#gift by MarigoldVance

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @marigoldvance​ based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Gen

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

Druidbury

—

The town of Druidbury was nestled in the Valley of Magic, the place where all lines of all energies converged above the Crossroad of the Realms. An idyllic little town built of brick and stone, blending traditional architecture and modern conveniences. Trams jangled along behind horse-drawn carriages, clocksmiths worked elbow-to-elbow with sculptors of the finest sundials, tailors and dressmakers offered fashions from countless eras.

It was a charming town that Kíli enjoyed visiting when he wasn’t bogged down by coursework.

Druidbury was almost exclusively occupied by Wizards, though a few magical creatures (and entities, like Brodrick the Shadow Wraith who haunted the local inn) had made their home there as well. Master Dwalin’s Sanctum was above the cobblers, and Mistress Minerva’s took up an entire block behind the community library.

Wizards who had married outside of Wizardry brought their families to live in Druidbury, and so there were schools to accommodate the magically impaired, jobs to support those who couldn’t perform spells, and all manner of inclusive event or club.

The ladies of the local knitting club were fond of Kíli, always gifting him sweaters and socks, or baking him cookies (that wouldn’t accidentally turn him into a snail).

            “You asked me about Christmas the other day,” Fíli said, striding ahead of Kíli by a few paces. He was dressed finely in a three-piece brown suit under a thick tan cloak trimmed with fur. Unlike Kíli had seen previously (that is, in public), Fíli’s hair was loose around his shoulders and his eyes were bare of his glasses (those still misplaces in the chaos of his desk). It suited him, this casual appearance, and Kíli found himself somewhat more bashful whenever Fíli looked at him directly.

            “Yes,” Kíli said, hurrying to keep up as they strode down the main avenue. “Well, I was more wondering if I’ve missed every Christmas since I got here. I’d imagine I have.”

Fíli stopped at the corner and turned to face Kíli, “Technically, you have so far. But, you could amend that if you decide to travel through the doors in the Cave of—”

            “—Names.” Kíli finished for him, “Yes, I remember.” He looked disheartened. So, he had missed several Christmases, his family moving along without him. Had they even tried to get in touch? Or was there an unspoken rule that once a child is taken to the University, he’s erased from the family tree and never heard from again?

A finger hooked under his chin lifted his gaze to meet Fíli’s. “No need to be upset, Kíli. I’m sure your family loves you.”

            “I suppose but…do they even know who I am anymore?”

Fíli moved his hand to cradle Kíli’s cheek briefly before letting go. “Of course!” He said cheerfully, “The University sends families letters whenever its learners achieve something.”

Kíli’s stomach dropped, “But…I haven’t achieved anything!” He really hadn’t, apart from a soap-bubble shield and an Apprenticeship with Fíli his gap year between The School of Tutelage and The Academy of Information. And that hardly counted; Kíli had made more mistakes than he’d made strides toward bettering his skills as a Wizard.

            “That’s not true.” Fíli told him, taking Kíli by the shoulders and leading him across the street and down the next block. “You’ve achieved far more than you give yourself credit for, Kíli. Trust me.”

Kíli did trust Fíli, but it sometimes felt as though Fíli regarded him through rose-tinted glasses and not as who Kíli was. Which was a paltry Wizard who’d fumbled through the last leg of his lessons under the School of Tutelage trying to earn a vocation as—Kíli sighed—a Harbinger.

(He had mastered herding crows into lines on tree branches, at least. Not that that required much strain on a learner’s Flare.)

            “You asked me about Christmas,” Fíli said, smiling and tipping his head to those they passed as they walked. “And today, I’m going to show you how we celebrate it here.”

Bug-eyed, Kíli blurted, “I didn’t know we celebrated it at all!”

            “What do you think the Yule Feast is all about?” Fíli asked, a twinkle in his eye.

            “It lasts twelve days, sir, that’s hardly Christmas.”

            “Maybe not as you celebrated it back home.”

            “And there are no presents.” Kíli added, giving Fíli a pointed look, as if that was entirely what Christmas was about.

            “Not true!” Fíli countered, taking Kíli gently by the arm, “Which is why I’ve brought you here.”

Here being a dimly lit shop squished between a cobbler’s and an apothecary. The Cabinet of Curiosities the sign above the shop read in swirly gold lettering. Unlike the prettily decorated shops along the street, this one was dark and somewhat autumnal. The storefront was painted black and had gold runes carved into the wood. Thousands of candles illuminated the interior from gothic chandeliers and tarnished candelabras.

            “I don’t understand.” Kíli said, frowning through the glass door. “What does this have to do with Christmas presents?” A thought hit him, “Wait, are we buying presents…here?”

Even from outside, he could see the strange and unusual objects littering the shelves within. Twisty branches embedded with jewels and tiny skeletons in glass belljars. Books and old maps and what looked like a well-preserved mermaid’s tail without the rest of the mermaid attached.

            “No, Kee, we’re not buying presents.”

That was a relief. Until now, Kíli hadn’t had to consider what currency was used in Druidbury, but he knew he didn’t have a cent of it to his name. Whenever he and his friends visited the local, he assumed someone else always took care of the tab as he’d never been asked for payment.

            “So…”

            “Come on.” Fíli encouraged Kíli through the door with a gentle push to his lower back, the weight of Fíli’s hand making Kíli blush.

The shop smelt of leather and dust and was a comfortable temperature compared to the wintery outdoors. A fire roared in the massive fireplace on the farthest wall. There were rows upon rows of floor-to-ceiling shelves, some with long tables between them, all filled to capacity with gruesome and weird trinkets.

An old, webby gramophone crackled to life on the service counter, telling them, “Back room!” as they wandered further into the shop.

Fíli obliged the voice, leading Kíli to the back of the shop and behind a heavy curtain. He held it open for Kíli politely, jerking his chin in the direction of a monstrous worktable cluttered with instruments and materials of all sorts.

Kíli eyed it warily, unsure what he was supposed to look for.

            “Although the Crossroads and, therefore, the University, exist outside of time, we are still effected by it.” Fíli said, coming to stand beside Kíli. He spoke as he removed his cloak and hung it on a stand in one corner. “And some of us even participate in it.”

Just then a large man kicked open the splintered wooden backdoor, pushed inside with a gust of wind. He was as tall as he was wide with a jolly face and snow-white beard, round cheeks, and a bulbous nose. In his arms he carried a box bursting with scraps of fabric and small pieces of weathered wood.

            “Hullo Fíli,” He boomed merrily, clearly happy to see Fíli there. He set the box down and began to empty its contents on the table. “Glad you could make it.”

            “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Fíli said. He’d removed his suit jacket and was rolling up the sleeves of his light-coloured shirt when the man greeted him. Now, he put a hand on Kíli’s shoulder and introduced him, “This is my Apprentice—”

            “Former,” Kíli corrected.

            “Not quite, lad.” Fíli chuckled and then resumed, “This is my Apprentice, Kíli. He’ll be helping us today.”

Kíli looked between the large man and Fíli, confused.

            “Kíli, this is Nícolae.”

Kíli bobbed his head cordially, “Pleasure to meet you, Master Nícolae.”

            “Please, boy,” Nícolae smiled, “It’s just Nícolae.”

            “Good luck with that.” Fíli teased, “Took ages to get him to stop calling me Master.”

            “Hey!” Kíli pouted; he hated being spoken of as if he wasn’t there. Even if what Fíli said was true. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Nícolae.” He said out of spite, though it felt strange not to use the title he’d been taught to use whenever he met an elder Wizard.

Nícolae smiled at Kíli’s deliberate cheek. “Shall we get to work, then?” He asked, tilting his head toward the table. More specifically, the items he’d deposited on it.

            “Absolutely,” Fíli said, clapping his hands, “Where would you have us start?”

Nícolae explained how things were to be done: no magic, no miracles, no mystifying feats. Just simple toolwork and some elbow grease. Kíli didn’t narrowed his eyes when he was given his instructions and encouraged into a tall tinker’s chair at one end of the table.

            “No magic?” He asked.

Fíli shook his head, a secretive smile arcing his lips. “Can’t have anyone with an undetected Flare interacting with it.”

            “Undetected…” Kíli peered at Nícolae, who took his seat on the other end of the table, the chair groaning under his weight. There was something peculiarly familiar about Nícolae that Kíli couldn’t quite put his finger on. “What exactly am I supposed to make?”

            “Just follow the illustrations there, boyo.” Nícolae said, pointing at a small pile of illustrated parchments. They were step-by-step instructions of how to put together a—

Kíli frowned, “Dolls?” He glanced at Fíli, “We’re making dolls?”

            “We’re making everything on our lists.” Fíli said, patting his own little pile of parchments. “There isn’t much left.” This, he said to Nícolae.

            “The others have been very helpful this season.” Nícolae grabbed a thick piece of wood and a carving knife and started scraping away the bark. “Master Pallando and his brother have been by every week since the end of summer.”

Pallando. He was the Wizard who’d escorted Kíli to the University when he was a boy. Kíli hadn’t heard from or seen anything more of him since. It was interesting to discover that Master Pallando was still around.

            “How did they fare without use of their magic?” Fíli wondered with an undercurrent of animosity that Kíli didn’t understand.

            “Horribly.” Nícolae said, “but they got the hang of it quickly enough.”

They worked in silence for some time, until Kíli’s back began to ache, and his bum lost all feeling. He’d made approximately seven dolls, two wooden cars, nine stuffed rabbits, and six wooden soldiers.

It was as he was finishing the paint on the sixth wooden soldier that he realized, “We’re making toys.”

Fíli tried to hide his amusement and failed. “Spot on, Kee.”

            “No, that’s not—” He glared half-heartedly at Fíli, “Why are we making toys?”

            “Because you asked about Christmas.”

Kíli stared at Fíli for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then looked at Nícolae, who was hunched over a beautifully crafted dollhouse. White beard, jolly demeanor…He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it sooner.

            “My word…You’re Santa!”

Nícolae cast his gaze to Fíli. They shared fond looks before both turning to Kíli.

            “Some call me that, yes.” Nícolae acknowledged. “But I prefer Nícolae.”

Kíli didn’t hear him, too busy filling the air with questions, “Santa’s a Wizard?! How long has this been going on? Do you really deliver all these presents yourself? Don’t you have a village of elves to help you make toys?”

            “No elves, I’m afraid. Just the charity of fellow Wizards such as yourself.” Nícolae said with a wink. “As for how long, I can’t be sure.”

            “Fíli,” Kíli implored, “He’s Santa.”

            “I’m well aware, Kíli.” Fíli said, not looking up from his work on a gorgeous tea set. His tongue poked out the corner of his mouth while he concentrated on his intricate brushwork. “Which is why I brought you with me.”

            “To meet Santa.”

            “To meet Santa.” Fíli echoed, finally meeting Kíli’s gaze. His eyes sparkled warmly, an expression of adoration adorning his features. “I could only answer your questions about time, and even then, only so much. But Nícolae has been a member of the University since its earliest days.”

            “Why, you’re positively ancient!” Kíli blurted before he could stop himself. He slapped a hand over his mouth, his apologize muffled but sincere, “Sorry…”

Nícolae threw his head back and laughed, a rich chorus of sound. He flapped a hand in dismissal, wiped a tear from his eye and said, “I can’t deny that it’s true.” When he calmed, he looped his thumbs in his belt and said, “Now, you have questions, I have answers, and we both have a lot more to do. Why don’t you ask me while we work, hm?”

Kíli checked with Fíli that it was alright, knowing that he had the tendency to ask more questions than most were willing to answer. Fíli gave no indication that Kíli should restrain himself, so Kíli started with the most pressing thing on his mind:

            “Do you really eat all those cookies yourself?”

Fíli bit his smile, willing himself not to laugh.

This was either the best or the worst idea he’d ever had.

[marigoldvance]

Courting Fíli

Part Six

for @legolaslovely because she deserves nice things 💛

Part One ׀ Part Two ׀ Part Three ׀ Part Four ׀ Part Five

note: and it is herein that we conclude this journey, mes frens!

Dís’ words knock about Fíli’s mind like pebbles in a shoe as he makes his way toward Dís’ solarium. He’s glad the meeting will take place there; it’s become something of a refuge for him since his lessons on holding court and leading council have become longer and more intense. The natural light is a refreshing change from the red-orange glow of torches, or the dim reflection emitted from the channels of liquid copper-tin veined throughout Nogrod. Even at night, when the sun has sunk below the horizon, Dís’ solarium seems to retain some of its splendor in the petals of the night blossoms.

Fíli hides in there as often as he can get away with, sometimes hefting large tomes in to read and others, simply lying back on the stone bench in the center of Dís’ strange little garden and gazing at the constellations through the skylight. It’s easy to feel like one is beyond the cloistered and crowded halls of the mountain while taking a pause in there.

Which is exactly why Fíli suggested Dís’ solarium in the first place: If all goes well, once introductions are exchanged, Fíli intends to escort his sweet maid out of doors, away from possible interruptions and, more significantly, away from eavesdroppers (read: his mother, possibly his brother, definitely his uncle). 

Fíli has dressed normally in a comfortable tunic and supple bottoms that allow bits of himself to breathe, thank you very much. Overtop he wears a sheep’s hide vest and, on his feet, sturdy boots for walking. He’s prepared a dozen or so alternatives should his sweet maid decline to leave the mountain, as well as gone over in his mind as many different outcomes of this meeting as his mind could come up with. 

If she rejects his proposal to court in such a foreign manner, Fíli is ready for that as well.  

Still, he truly hopes she doesn’t. She was the most beautiful thing he’d beheld all evening; he hasn’t been able to put her out of his head since, even amongst all the taunting and teasing Kíli had done when he waltzed in all Melkor-may-care after Dís left Fíli to ruminate on the contract. 

Strange as it may sound coming from a dwarf who previously wanted nothing to do with courtship and romance, Fíli’s excited to get to know his maid. Soft and radiant as a starlit eve in late Thrimidge, that fascinating ember of extraness in her eye that Fíli spotted when he admired her at the table last night. Oh yes, Fíli isn’t above admitting to being moved by her. 

Finally, he reaches the private entrance to Dís’ solarium and slips in, closing the door gently behind himself and padding toward the divan where his maid waits on light feet so as not to startle her. 

What happens next, however, has him rethinking that consideration as she shrieks in terror at the sound of his voice. 

            “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Fíli says, hands held up in a gesture of placation. He adds through a wide, resigned smile and a hearty chuckle, “I come in peace, I swear!”

His maid is clutching her heart, face red from either embarrassment or the strength she put behind her shriek. She has a good set of lungs, Fíli notes, oddly pleased by the fact. After a moment she uses to catch her breath and her bearings, she hiccoughs and then bursts into a fit of laughter. Fíli can’t help but join her, the sound catching and wonderful. Not at all like the other maids Fíli was forced to engage with, their controlled simpering behind their fingers, trying to emulate tinkling bells or delicate birdcall or some such.

No, his maid laughs like she means it, from the diaphragm. And that’s it, he’s smitten. Bring him the marriage contract and the pen, he’s ready to sign.

They each wipe the tears from the corner of their eyes, studying each other in the quiet that follows until, at last, his maid speaks.

            “I must admit, my Lord, I hadn’t anticipated meeting you in such a familiar manner. I had hoped to make a better first impression.”

Fíli melts and he’s pretty sure she can tell, given how terrible a job he’s doing at keeping it off his face.

            “Please, call me Fíli.” He says and then continues, “And I rather enjoyed how things played out. I feel we know each other better for it.” He leans in close, inhaling a delightful combination of scents from her skin, of loam and wet grass, “Besides,” He whispers, “You have the most enchanting laugh.”

She swats him on the shoulder with the back of her hand and snorts, “I absolutely don’t, but I shall take the compliment anyway.”

Oh, how she continues to endear herself to Fíli.

He stands and holds out his hand, an invitation she accepts by sliding her own into his palm. “I was thinking we could travel down to the lake.”

            “May I ask why?”

            “There is a boat my brother and I built—”

            “Ah, yes, Nessy.” She says primly, “A very fine vessel, from what Kíli told me over supper.”

Fíli tilts his head in consideration, “She has seen some adventure, I agree. But!” Fíli pulls her gently into his side and tucks her arm into the crook of his elbow as any honest gentleman would, “She has a small store of blankets and I’ve had a picnic prepared and loaded on her. I thought we could make use of her for the afternoon.”

            “That sounds lovely,” Her smile is honeydrizzle and warm breezes when she turns it on Fíli, “Though I have to say, that’s not what I expected when you mentioned the lake.”

Fíli raises a single brow, “Did you think I’d ask you to come skinny dipping with me?” He puts on an offended tone though can’t surpress some of the playfulness that seeps in, “I would never be so presumptuous.”

She glances at him through narrowed eyes, her expression turning positively filthy, “Well, that’s too bad, I wouldn’t have minded seeing what you’re hiding under that tunic of yours.” With that she drags Fíli toward the public entrance to Dís’ solarium, chin up and looking the picture of poised and polite as they step out.

Fíli balks.

This is going to be an interesting and most thrilling courtship, indeed.

~ fin.

dearest readers, we have reached the end of this saga. to those who waited patiently for an update, thank you! also, thank you to everyone who read, liked and reblogged, your support and interest gives me life!

and to those who expected more from this, i apologize; the fact is that i’d lost inspiration/motivation for the plot awhile ago. i’d hoped that it would return but, alas, it didn’t. still, i didn’t want to leave it unfinished 😘 i hope this ending will suffice!

xx - Mari

-*-

@emrfangirl @tmnts-world

[shinigami714]

Something Wicked - Society6

Inspired by The Gilded Wolf by @marigoldvance

“ When he’d awoken, the scent less full-bodied in his pores, Fíli was introduced to the sight of the idiot who’d saved him. He was handsome and charming, his edges intense and his voice smooth wine; a mage with no allegiance and no desire to work for anyone but himself. It had been his miscast spell which had summoned the wraith from hell and he had been very sorry that Fíli had found himself in the middle of the catastrophe, but I had it handled, there was no need for you to involve yourself! ”

This is my gift for @marigoldvance as part of the Durin’s Day Gift Exchange over on @gatheringfiki. I hope to read more from this universe someday in the future! The characters you’ve created have already intrigued me greatly. There were several other stories I also considered drawing for, but this one really just pushed its way into my mind and forced itself onto the page through my fingers. That rarely happens so I thought it was best not to fight it! Hope you like it, it was a pleasure to draw for one of your stories!

[linane-art]

Prompt #44: Shapeshifter (why, yes, again!)

This is a gift for @marigoldvance - thank you for all the stories!

MY OTHER EDITS

WinterFRE2020 Prompts

—

The Line of Durin has always been especially blessed by the Sun Gods.

Out of the youngest pair, Fili was always going to be a lion – you only had to look at him to see a confident young dwarf sinking deeper and deeper into his Persona, both in appearance and personality, as if he was curling up into it, the way all cats do.

Fili had been born in dangerous times: on the road, among the vast, empty spaces of the Outside, his screaming mother guarded by two blood-sworn dwarves, ready to cut down anyone who approached. But the Blessing came like it always did – a drop of molten gold landed on his cheek and rolled harmlessly down its curve. Dis barely managed to catch it in a tiny glass vial prepared just this purpose.

He would carry it with him for the rest of his life.

But the raining metal seemed to startle the baby, making Fili cry out with all the volume available to a newborn. Those who heard it, swore it sounded like a roar.

He never stopped roaming the Outside, like a predatory cat ought to.

Kili’s Persona was harder to predict. The drop of his Blessing splattered wetly right between his eyebrows, causing him to wrinkle his nose and go cross-eyed, as he tried so see what had landed on his forehead. That it caused him to open his mouth as if he was baring his non-existent teeth, was something Dis connected only much later.

An adolescent Kili fought frequently, protected his own fiercely, and evaluated his chances with an instinct few possessed. He roamed no less than his brother – both of them often solitary and content, though they always came together in the end, like an odd pack of two or a mated pair.

It was Fili who took Kili’s vial in his hands and fixed it on a fine golden chain for him, so he could wear it around his neck without losing it.

(It was unheard of – letting another handle your Blessing – but they didn’t know any better).

And when Kili finally appeared as a wolf one day, his Persona beautiful and golden like all Personas of the Durin line, people stared and wondered what kind of future lay ahead, that two predators joined such a powerful family almost at the same time.

Fili didn’t wonder; just like Kili, he felt the power and freedom sing in his veins and looked to the future fearlessly, hungry for a lifetime they would spend together.

[marigoldvance]

Courting Fíli

Part Five

for @legolaslovely​ because she deserves nice things 💛

Part One ׀ Part Two ׀ Part Three ׀ Part Four

Arrangements are made between Dís and Thorin that Fíli finds - rather astonishingly - have nothing to do with him. No input, no consult, no simpering in the corner about her eyes and hair as they try to ignore him while they conduct their business. 

In fact, Fíli is told to leave his uncle’s council chamber and is escorted - like some soft, mollycoddled Prince of Men - by his esquire (who he hadn’t even known before that afternoon!) back to his rooms. His bed is already turned down and two servants appear like phantoms from the shadows to descend upon him and pull apart his costume; in some places, literally, the seams finally surrendering after as difficult a quest as keeping Fíli’s thighs encased. 

His legs feel like uncooked dough and, Oh Mahal Yes, the bloodrush nearly topples him when his cock goes half-hard once the air meets it, ready to rise and praise the Valar for its release from the suffocating codpiece. Bloody traditions need to be examined and remade, Fíli grouses, kicking the boots and bottoms away, shimmying his limbs in an effort to dispel the pins-n-needles prickling under his skin. 

The servants duck and hop around his kicking legs and milling arms, remaining efficient even through Fíli’s steadily mounting impatience to be done with all this. Tomorrow, he soothes, he’ll wake alone to nothing but the warm, hollow echo of the mountain in his ear. A smile spreads across his lips that looks somewhat dopey in the context of the situation but Fíli can’t bring himself to care. 

One of the servants misinterprets his happiness, “Thinkin’ of yer bride-to-be?” 

Fíli chokes, voice snaring itself in pulls as the questions trip out of him. “Pardon? Bride? What do you mean?”

            “Well. Yer back ‘ere awfully early to not’ve made a match. We’se was only expecting you returned ‘round midnight. Must mean you met yerself a dam.”

Fíli coughs and shakes himself loose from the servant’s busy hands. He grabs the robe that’s offered to him by his esquire and wraps himself in it, folding himself into the large, cushiony chair set in front of the fireplace. 

            “Something like that, I suppose.” Fíli is hesitant to admit. 

His mother was clear before the banquet that Fíli isn’t obligated to commit to anything as important and life-altering as marriage quite yet - he’s barely over the threshold of fifty, for Aulë’s sake! - but then ... she was very keen to take his word for it when he mentioned he somewhat-sort-of-noticed someone. As in, thought she was pretty and fair and worth properly introducing himself to. Not as in, I want that one forever, if you’ll kindly wrap her up so that I may take her home. 

No, his mother would surely have warned him if his interest would lead immediately to ceremonial arrangements. He doesn’t want the seriousness of an official courtship. He just didn’t want to listen to that father scar the table further with another tale of his daughter’s virgin prowess - whatever the Halls that means. 

Fíli is traumatized enough, thank you. 

            “Sure it’ll be a beautiful weddin’.”

            “No one is getting married.” Fíli says sternly. “Meeting, perhaps, but not marriage. So quit fishing for your gossip and consider yourself dismissed for the evening.” Fíli tacks on a stiff, bitten, “Thank you.” when he hears the servants and his esquire rustling out of the room. 

            “Oh,” He groans, slouching in his seat and gazing intently at the high ceiling, “Please tell me I haven’t made a horrible mistake by saying anything to my mother.”

            “You haven’t made a horrible mistake by saying anything to your mother.” Dís replies on behalf of the Valar Fíli was imploring to. She shuffles in from the door, a roll of parchment in her hand and a motherly smile on her face. “It was Kíli’s girl, was it?”

Fíli is often blindsided by his mother’s knowledge of all things without needing an explanation but he still allows himself to be baffled. “How did you figure that out?”

            “I pay attention.” Dís flaps her empty hand and settles herself into the chair opposite Fíli. She fixes her skirts daintily, smoothing out the wrinkles, taking her time because she enjoys watching her sons squirm, Fíli is convinced. “Now,” She says at last, “Thorin has agreed that we should not make this official under the law. Courting is all well and good but, right now, it is to my benefit and that of your uncle that you are merely seen sweeping someone off their feet.”

            “Uhm. Alright?”

            “Alright, indeed.”

            “Please, excuse me Amad, but I don’t follow.”

            “We’re unabashedly using your interest in this girl to make all those idiots tonight go home. Those numbskulls offer nothing to our court, nothing to the refugees of Erebor, except their daughters who they’re thrusting at us in exchange for opportunity and a title.

Their daughters are awful now, they’ll be awful in ten, twenty, thirty years. I don’t fancy you courting any of them. Ever. At all.” Fíli’s relieved to hear that. “However, pet, those fathers are going to want to see you courting someone. Proof. Politics.” Dís rolls her eyes, a commiserating grin growing beneath her nose, “Thorin and I discussed it and you’ll court her, publicly. However, we’ve drafted up a courting contract that underscores that this courtship isn’t official. No seals, no witness of intent, no chaperones beyond what’s socially demanded. You’re free to get to know this girl as ... ” Dís searches, squinting into the fire, “As a real person. If you two decide you want to scratch each other’s eyes out, you aren’t obligated to continue seeing each other. It’s all rather liberal and loose.”

            “What does that mean?” Fíli wants to be clear.

            “Well, my darling, it seems you’re going to be the first in our Line to casually court.” 

-*-

Part Six

[marigoldvance]

Courting Fíli

Part Four

for @legolaslovely​ because she deserves nice things 💛

Part One ׀ Part Two ׀ Part Three

note: we continue to enjoy Fili’s POV from The Banquet because First Impressions are e v e r y t h i n g

Fíli is stiff and uncomfortable and he’s inclined to believe he’s offended all the Aratar at once because how does this Dwarf have more to say? Fíli has heard everything from his daughter’s conception (he’s still feeling a bit green behind the jaw at the images that saga conjured) to the poise and grace she shares with her mother to the (Fíli shudders) rather gruesome advent of her ladyhood. 

To his utter despair, his mother sits at his side, smiling warmly like these tales mean something wonderful, tinkling just right at parts Fíli suspects he’s also supposed to find amusing but absolutely doesn’t. 

He doesn’t want to be impolite - is doing everything he can to seem interested in (oh, Mahal) her fastidious ability to bleed a deer - except that her father smells like stale drink and chewed meat and spits around every ‘S’ and ‘T’. Meanwhile, his daughter has moved on from sitting daintily to looking smug, as if her fertility and skill with animal viscera should be celebrated by all. 

Maybe Fíli should ask his mother to mark a new holiday in the calendar so they can put the topic to rest at last. Fíli sinks further into his seat as if he can make himself small enough to disappear and wills the servant handling the wine to make another round just for the interruption. He sneaks a glance at Kíli, halfway down the table on the opposite side, speaking freely and gesturing wildly as he spins some yarn for the entertainment of his neighbors. The guests laugh uproariously, two Dwarves smacking the table hard enough to send their tankards spilling all over their dinnerware, when he’s done, leaning back and laughing with his whole body. 

Fíli’s nearly chokes on his own tongue when Kíli’s movement reveals her. 

He’d met her before, he recalls; was introduced to her at the entrance before the banquet began, but he’d been too preoccupied with making sure he didn’t bow too low and split a seam. 

She’s lovely as a summer morning, with dewy skin and a gentle expression, her glossy hair twisted up in a simple knot (unlike all the other maids around who look as though they’re wearing his mother’s centerpieces on their heads). She emits an aura of calm respect that Fíli can appreciate even from where he sits. And there’s a glint of something in her eye that makes it difficult for Fíli to turn away, something that reminds Fíli of the fire glowing within his mother and brother. 

He doesn’t realize right away when she catches him staring. Apparently it was long enough that even Kíli stopped his storytelling to watch Fíli watch her, not bothering to conceal the glee he feels at Fíli’s expense. 

Kíli raises a brow; Fíli snaps his mouth shut and turns back to the Dwarf who’s moved on to telling them about his daughter’s hips as wide as a heifer’s. 

Fíli holds himself still for another few minutes, the conversation moving along down the row to another father who begins reciting poetry about his own daughter’s achievements - won just by existing with a pretty face - before he has to steal another peek. 

She’s openly looking at Fíli, much to his horror, Kíli leaned close to her ear and shaking with repressed laughter. Fíli is quite relieved to note that she isn’t laughing along (and Fíli doesn’t have to be a wizard to know that whatever Kíli’s saying is about him); instead, she turns a comely shade of pink, the blush high on her cheeks and across her nose and, oh, she’s sweet as a faun! 

Fíli is forced back to the conversation being conducted at him rather than with him at this stage, when the father says, “ — and that’s when she bit the orc’s ear clean off ‘him!” 

He turns a slow gaze back toward his mother who primly ignores him, her hands clasped in a white-knuckled grip her lap and a too-wide smile stretched across her face. 

                “Please,” He grits out from the corner of his mouth in an effort to be subtle, “Let me be excused.”

                “Not a chance.” Dís hisses back, lips not moving. 

Fíli cringes, listens to another minute of this father’s embellishment, glimpses at the beautiful maid sitting with Kíli and then makes a decision, pushing it out abruptly between his teeth, “I think I’ve found someone who interests me.”

Dís immediately deflates in relief, “Oh, praise Mahal.” and pushes her seat back, interrupting the father who is now constructing some kind of scale model out of his potatoes. “Right, our deepest apologies but my son needs speak with his uncle, privately. Sensitive matters; you understand.”

They clearly don’t but no one argues when Dís holds her arm out for Fíli’s to be escorted away. Thorin, who’d been silent in a half-daze at Dís’ other side, comes alive, jerking in his seat and looking about in a fluster. 

                “Speak to me about what?” He asks but Dís has Fíli marching her around the head of the table already. 

                “Hurry up, Thorin, can’t have these matters discussing themselves!” She clips, chin to the ceiling. 

The row of fathers and daughters gape helplessly as Thorin gets to his feet and follows his sister and nephew as majestically as he’s able with a little dribble in his beard, leaving their guests behind to sit awkwardly with one another for the remainder of the evening.

-*-

Part Five

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @marigoldvance based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Mature, Mafia AU.

Warnings: Mentions of rape, though no actual rape occurs.

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

Sweet Silver Bells

---

“Keep him out of trouble,” Thorin instructs, lounging like a lion behind his desk. His posture is welcoming, the smile on his face an offer of the casual familiarity he shares with everyone, whether or not he knows them well. A tactic that has benefited Thorin greatly.

Fíli sits quietly and waits for the strike.

Thorin holds Fíli’s gaze for an extra few seconds before his eyes glide to the box that was sitting in front of Fíli’s seat before he was escorted into the room. It’s small and unassuming, black, tied in sleek black ribbon, no indication as to what could be inside.

After a heavy beat, Thorin finally says, “You’ve done a remarkable job thus far, handling Kíli.” He bats a hand at the box, encouraging Fíli to take it, “Consider this an offering of my,” Thorin’s smile turns sharp, “heartfelt thanks.”

Heartfelt thanks, my ass.

Fíli takes the box, removes the lid and peers at the gift, careful to maintain a blank expression lest he give away the wrongfootedness that snaps through him.

A brass key is nestled on a black velvet cushion, a room number emblazoned across the bow: 801.

Thorin flashes a hand as he turns his chair to face the large window of his office, reaching for the thick crystal rocks glass – one cube of ice in two fingers of amber – that he’d been pouring himself when Fíli arrived.

            “Happy Christmas.” Thorin says, amusement oozing into his tone, and Fíli is dismissed.

-*-

Fíli understands that if he doesn’t accept Thorin’s gift, it won’t look good. In fact, it’ll look very, very bad. What Thorin gives you from the kindness of his stone heart, you appreciate it. It’s a demonstration of trust. It means you’re in, you’re family, and it’s what Fíli’s been hoping to achieve since Day One.

He didn’t get this far in his career by pretending; he got here by becoming. And in this instance, he’d fucked himself over. He told Thorin he was a man capable of cruelty, a man void of conscience. Moral ambiguity always gives evil men hard-ons, and it was what Fíli knew it would take to get in.

The very idea of fucking someone who doesn’t completely consent is revolting to Fíli Durin, the cop. But Fíli Weller, the man in service to the Oakenshield Family?

The only thing Fíli can do now is hope that the Devil negotiates…

-*-

To say he’s surprised is, frankly, an overstatement. Because the kid is a little shit at the best of times. And this? Is pretty fucking standard at this point.  

            “Where’s Nori?” Fíli asks, voice neutral, as he steps into the bedroom of the luxury suite.

He’d expected to find the Azog girl, drugged, possibly cuffed. Instead, Fíli finds Kíli sitting in the middle of the king-sized bed, leaned against the pile of pillows, fully dressed, ankles crossed, and smoking a black Sobranie, the cut-crystal ashtray at his hip on the duvet.

Kíli is packaged in a pressed white shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows and top two buttons undone. A grey vest sporting gold buttons and subtle burgundy accents defines his waist and shoulders impeccably, and trousers in a gunpowder color hug his long legs. He’s beautiful and severe, curls brushed back, away from his face, and lips pink against the contrast of his permanent five o’clock shadow.

He looks older than his twenty years like this. Fíli almost forgets the 10-year gap between them in the sudden rush of desire to get his hands on him. Almost. He keeps his hands at his sides, arms and back tense, but he can’t stop his gaze from trawling down Kíli’s body like the lecher the kid’s turned him into.

The spark in Kíli’s eyes tells Fíli he notices.

            “I sent him off to deal with the girl.” Kíli says mildly, tapping the ash from his cigarette, a lethal grin on his face. He sweeps a hand in front of himself, “They’re in 802, if you want to go see for yourself.”

Fíli really doesn’t.

            “He left you alone?” He asks, stepping further into the room, quickly assuming the skin of concerned bodyguard.

Kíli tilts his head, stamps his cigarette out, “Why? Are you expecting a retaliation so soon?” He scoffs, “I don’t even think Azog’s noticed his precious niece is missing.” And then the grin returns, “I’m sure he’ll regret that later.”

            “Isn’t that the point?” Fíli says, doing an unnecessary tour of the room. Two of Thorin’s cameras are on the nightstand, crushed under Kíli’s heel if the evidence on the bottom of Kíli’s loafers says anything. Kíli, however, isn’t as smart as he thinks he is when he’s feeling smug. Fíli spotted the pinhole sized glare of a third lens in the knot of the tassel on one of the curtains.

Briefly, Fíli wonders what Thorin will think of Kíli’s intrusion to his plans when he watches the recording later.

None of his business, Fíli tries to tell himself. Kíli will undoubtedly be punished, and Fíli will have to babysit while he goes on another self-pitying bender. He finds himself praying it won’t be any worse than that; Thorin’s patience with his nephew and heir has been thinning lately.

            “Don’t worry,” Kíli says, “I made sure Nori gets it all on camera. Wouldn’t want Azog to miss a second of it.”

            “Hm.”

Fíli doesn’t know what to do. On the one hand, he’s in charge of Kíli’s wellbeing. On the other, he was given an indirect order to rape Azog’s niece and Kíli stuck his nose in where he shouldn’t have. A voice that sounds eerily like Thorin’s whispers in his ear, wants Fíli to reprimand the brat on his behalf.

Christ, if the psych eval is right, that would make Thorin’s mouth water, maybe even earn Fíli a spot in Thorin’s personal security team.

On the bed, Kíli shifts, drags himself to the side and swings his legs over, standing in a flourish of grace Fíli can’t believe he possesses. He sashays into Fíli’s space, too close to be friendly, the fingers of one hand undoing the button of Fíli’s blazer before he rests his hand over Fíli’s heart. Fíli feels the heat of it like a brand.

            “Do you think Uncle will be angry with me?” He whispers, leaning in close, his breath sending shivers across the skin of Fíli’s throat. Huh. So maybe Kíli isn’t as stupid as Fíli thought. “Do you think he’ll make you do to me what Nori is doing to that girl?” He shuffles closer, presses against Fíli, noses at the sensitive hollow behind Fíli’s ear.

Fíli sucks in a silent, shuddery breath and grabs Kíli’s wrist, prying Kíli’s hand away from his chest.

            “Why’d you get yourself involved?” Fíli questions, pushing Kíli back a step to put some distance between them. He tightens his grip on Kíli’s wrist, feels the bones shift under his thumb. “Why can’t you mind your own business and do as your told?”

It was supposed to be harsh, authoritative, and instead all Fíli heard was the first scene of a porno read in his own voice.

Jesus, Durin, get a hold of yourself.

Kíli’s eyes simmer, lids drooping and grin softening into something lazy. He wrenches his wrist out of Fíli’s grasp, bites his lip and bluntly drags his gaze from Fíli’s eyes down to his crotch. There’s nothing to see, but the suggestion behind Kíli’s actions is making it damn near impossible to keep it that way.

            “Fine,” Fíli growls, grabs Kíli at the nape and shoves him forward toward the bedroom door. “You don’t wanna talk, I don’t care, but your uncle is going to want an answer.”

            “I didn’t want you to fuck her!” Kíli blurts, wincing at the strength of Fíli’s hold.

Fíli doesn’t mean to, but he falters.

Kíli never hid his attraction toward him, was always curling innuendos around his tongue whenever Fíli was in range, saying things that would make a hooker blush. Fíli just brushed it off as Kíli trying to get a rise out of him, the way he’d done to all his former bodyguards who he’d made so uncomfortable, they quit (and were shot, point-blank, as a result, but Fíli doesn’t believe Kíli is aware of that).

Fíli never expected Kíli would really give a shit if he fucks around with someone else.

            “Why do you think my uncle wanted it to be you and not someone else, ay?” Kíli demands, untangling himself from Fíli’s hold and straightening up, smoothing down the fabric of his vest. “When you were hired strictly to be my security detail?”

Fíli doesn’t answer, simply raises an imploring eyebrow.

Kíli releases a harsh sigh and throws his hands up, drops them and paces away before turning to look at Fíli once again, face beet red. “Because he knows I like you.”

            “You like anything with a pulse.” Fíli deadpans. Fíli, the cop, hates being cruel, but Fíli, the bodyguard, has, on several occasions, seen Kíli go through Daddies and wannabe models interested in the danger Kíli’s name poses.

Kíli stutters into silence, expression wounded. “That’s not true.” He says, voice small, sounding as young as he is.

Fíli rubs his brow, seeking guidance from a God who long ago abandoned him for his sins.

            “Why would Thorin bother getting involved. Kid, you’re not thinking.”

            “I am!” Kíli insists, marching toward Fíli and grabbing either side of his jaw. “Uncle is still mad about the diamonds, and he knows it would kill me if I had to watch you being used like that.”

Just as Fíli parts his lips to speak, Kíli swoops in and crushes their mouths together in a clumsy kiss. His hands fall to Fíli’s shoulders, pulling Fíli into him, as he tilts his head to less awkward angle. Fíli freezes for a second, calculating the breadth of the hidden camera’s range, before throwing his last fuck out the window and allowing himself to have this. At least once.

He hardly has a chance to respond to the kiss when Kíli breaks apart, face twisted in insecurity. Fíli doesn’t let him get far. Hauls him back in with a fist in his vest, the other cupping the back of his head, fingers combed into his soft hair.

Fíli bites Kíli’s bottom lip, sucks and releases, dipping back in and licking into the moist heat of Kíli’s mouth. He drags the point of his tongue over Kíli’s, catches Kíli’s top lip between his and separates with a dry smack and then repeats the process in a different order, enjoying how Kíli’s body goes lax against him.

Kíli hitches a moan, hands snaking under Fíli’s blazer to travel and claw up and down Fíli’s back.

God, but the kid is responsive, so desperate and eager for Fíli to—

With a ragged gasp, Fíli tears himself away, knocks his forehead against Kíli’s and rests there for a moment to catch his breath.

Of course, Kíli is grinning like the cat who got the cream.

Brat.

Fíli can’t help himself and returns the smile with a small one of his own. Kíli leans back, eyes eclipsed, cheeks a cherubic rosy color, and moistens his lower lip as he gazes hotly at Fíli.

Fíli loses his composure completely and tugs Kíli in again. Despite his conscience screaming in the back of his mind, the knowledge that Thorin wasn't going to be pleased about Kíli's actions, all Fíli could think was:

Happy fucking Christmas, indeed.

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @marigoldvance based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Gen.

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

Nipping at your nose…

—

It was winter in Burgess again and Kíli was excited.

That’s right, Kíli, because, thanks to Baby Tooth, he’d remembered who’d been before he’d been drawn out of the lake to assume the position of Jack Frost. It’d been Fíli’s idea to use his old name, bless him, and Kíli hadn’t had an argument as to why he shouldn’t. The others continued to call him ‘Jack’, though, which had rankled until Fíli explained that ‘Jack’ was like Kíli’s superhero name.

Being a Guardian, Fíli had said, was like being in the Justice League – a makebelieve team Kíli hadn’t heard of until he’d met Fíli Durin and Fíli’s little brother, Tíli. (Tíli, Fíli had mentioned gravely with a sad shake of his sweet, blond head, preferred The Avengers.) Apparently, heroes referred to each other by their superhero names all the time. So, that North, Tooth and Bunny kept calling him ‘Jack’ was exactly the same.

Besides, after a while, Kíli had kind of liked that only Fíli – and, by extension, Tíli – called him by his real name. It made their bond feel more special. Something Kíli wasn’t looking into at all since, although he looked fifteen, he was probably somewhere around three-HUNDRED-and-twelve years old, give or take a decade.

Fíli had just turned thirteen in August.

Gross.

Anyway – Kíli flapped a hand by his head as if to dispel that train of thought as he leapt and twirled from rooftop to rooftop on his way toward Fíli’s house – this year was special; for the first time in their short friendship, North wasn’t the only one equipped with a present for Fíli. Kíli had seen it during his stint in Australia and knew instantly that it was perfect for Fíli, so he’d, maybe, sort of, quite possibly begged North to have his elves design something similar (you know, to avoid having to steal the one Kíli had seen in the shop window).

            “Please, North, it’s for Fíli!”

North yawned, rubbed his eyes and frowned at Kíli from his armchair, voice gravelly from sleep, “And is only June, Frost. I will make him camera myself when time is come to do so.”

            “Come on, he’s the Last Light, he deserves to get a gift before Christmas, don’t you think? If it wasn’t for him, we’d all be dead!” North made a face of acceptance, “And it’s not from you, it’s from me; I just need your help.” Kíli batted his lashes and painted on his most endearing smile, “Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

            “Fine,” North agreed, “But you let elves take lead, they know what to do.” He narrowed a suspicious glare on Kíli, “I cannot afford second fire. Deal?”

            “Deal!” Kíli cheered, swooped in, and hugged North tightly before backflipping in the air and taking off like a shot out the open window, eager to get to North’s factory and get things underway.

During Kíli’s visit last year, Fíli had briefly mentioned a budding interest in taking pictures. The polaroid – at least, Kíli thought that’s what it was called – was enamel-white and pretty bulky, but developed the pictures right then and there, no waiting, so Fíli could admire his creativity in the snap of his fingers!

Kíli chewed the bottom of the smile he couldn’t restrain. He somersaulted over the peak of an attic, swirled around a treetop, and landed on his toes on Fíli’s windowsill, using the head of his staff to knock on the glass.

It took less than a second for Kíli to hear the sounds of Fíli clamoring out of bed, his body making a dull thud when it hit the ground, before the scrape of the metal rings against the rod when Fíli threw open his curtains. Fíli’s grin matched Kíli’s in excitement as he lifted his window and ushered Kíli in.

            “You’re here!” Fíli said, jumping into Kíli’s ready embrace and laughing at being spun around in circles.

            “I’m here!” Kíli chuckled, setting Fíli back on his feet, holding his shoulders until his eyes stopped spinning. “And I have something for you.” Kíli added with mischief.

Fíli lit up, bouncing as he flopped back onto a bed much bigger than the one Kíli remembered. In fact, much of his room had changed since Kíli had last been. It looked like it belonged to an older boy. Which, Kíli supposed, Fíli was.

            “Well?” Fíli prompted, holding out his hands and making grabby motions with his fingers. “What is it?”

With a flick of his wrist, Kíli summoned the box that contained Fíli’s camera out of the ether and presented it to Fíli with a flourish. Immediately, Fíli began to tear into the wrapping paper. As he opened his gift, Kíli floated over to the bed, dropping into the space beside Fíli, watching Fíli’s face change from eagerness to awe. Fíli lifted the camera out of its box, eyes big and jaw slack.

            “You got this for me?” He asked, turned to stare at Kíli in wonderment.

Kíli nodded, pleased with himself because he was certain he’d got it right.

Fíli placed the camera carefully down on his other side, “Thank you!” and then tackled Kíli backwards, his arms tight around Kíli’s neck, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

            “Ah-haha!” Kíli lifted them both into the air, rolled over and let Fíli drop onto his back on the mattress, drifting down like a feather beside him and propping his head in his hand. “So, I take it you like it?”

            “Oh-ho-ho, yeah!” Fíli sat up and reached for the camera, hauling it back with him as he lay back down, “C’mon, I want to try it out.” He hooked an arm around Kíli’s neck and dragged him into his side, squishing their faces together, “Say cheese!” And he clicked.

The light was blinding, and it took several blinks to see through the spots. Kíli heard the whir of the camera developing the photo and spitting it out onto Fíli’s chest. Fíli began to shake it, grinning the whole time, his eyes sparkling happily as he flicked his gaze between Kíli, who’d moved back to watch Fíli at work, and the polaroid.

Finally, the image began to appear.

Kíli’s face fell. He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed and turned his back to Fíli, head hung in familiar defeat.

            “Oh,” Fíli mumbled, his voice capturing Kíli’s heartache.

The image only showed Fíli’s smiling face, Kíli entirely invisible, as had been the case for too many years before Fíli had rallied the children and had brought Jack Frost into the light. The memory of centuries of being overlooked reared in the hollow of his ribcage.

He felt the mattress shift to his right and a warmth envelope his hand where it dangled between his knees.

            “Hey,” Fíli said, nudging Kíli’s shoulder with his own. “Hey, look at me, Kee.”

Kíli did, but he couldn’t hide the disappointment and fear that had settled within him.

            “I don’t want you to forget me.” He admitted, snagging his bottom lip between his teeth, frown pinching his brow.

Fíli scrambled off the bed to crouch in the space at Kíli’s feet, palms on Kíli’s knees, expression fearless and determined.

            “And I never will.” He said firmly, catching Kíli’s gaze. “Ever.”

Kíli scoffed. “All kids do when they grow up, Fíli. It’s just what happens.”

            “Yeah, well, not all kids are best friends with Jack Frost, are they?”

Best friends? Yeah, Kíli figured they kind of were, weren’t they? But still…

Kíli swallowed thickly, “But what if you do?”

            “Remember how my Believing made it possible for you guys to defeat Pitch?” Fíli said, lifting himself onto his knees, holding Kíli’s thighs for support, “Remember how I helped everyone else Believe, too? Huh?”

Kíli nodded. “Hard to forget, kid.” He curled his forefinger and cuffed Fíli’s chin with it fondly, trying his best to blink the sadness from his eyes.

            “You said I was special, Kee.” Fíli reminded him. “You just need to Believe it.”

A strange sense of understanding and hope flushed through Kíli as he welcomed Fíli into his arms for a comforting hug.

-

Fíli hadn’t been lying that evening when Kíli had presented him with his first camera. Now in his thirties, he remained Kíli’s best friend, if not a little bit more. The silver band on his finger glinted in the moonlight as he waved goodbye to Kíli, another winter melted into spring.

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @marigoldvance based on this photoset.

DarkHawk, Teen, based on her MarkHawk AU

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

The Admiral Benbow

---

Christmas was a quiet affair that year, so many of their number unable to attend as they were scattered about Great Britain and beyond, holed up in camps and Order outposts, Voldemort’s war curdling the landscape of the Wizarding World into something wicked and ugly. Its insurmountable darkness snuffed out all semblance of merriment, and Jim couldn’t muster even the slightest bit of holiday spirit despite Demelza’s efforts.

She’d hung wreaths and baubles and frosted garlands all about the Admiral Benbow Inn, sparkling tinsel and bright holly berries on bare twigs in clusters, determined to cultivate a warmth that felt long behind them. The smell of fresh, crusty bread, and succulent meat, and sweet dough pervaded the interior, wafted into the lanes of Kilnburn – a small, rustic village not too far from Bristol, hidden from Voldemort’s Scryers by use of heavy wards and infinite webs of ancient magic drawn from the Nemeton that stood tall and proud in the heart of the village. Its leaves were still a lush, vibrant green, the mighty oak impervious to the bite of winter’s deadly teeth.

Jim dragged his feet, toes scuffing the carpet with each motion, his hands in fists in his coat pockets. He was cold, always cold, always on the edge of a sneeze. A roaring fire in the common room invited him, crackling and popping loud enough for him to hear one floor up, but he wasn’t ready to join the handful of others who’d been removed from rotation, sent home to recover from their exhaustion for a fortnight before returning to the frontlines.

Memory weighed heavy on Jim’s shoulders, making it difficult to lift his head to the photograph he’d journeyed from his bedroom to see, driven by a whim that he regretted as soon as his eyes processed the image.

With a distant gaze, Jim watched a much younger, less burdened version of himself laugh along with a group of his old school friends, two of who were currently downstairs, the others either dead or well on their way to marching toward the Veil. In the photograph, dressed in their Hogwarts robes, stuffed into a compartment on the Express, Jim threw his head back and brayed silently at something Dwight Enys said. Beside Enys was Caroline Penvenen, blond curls bouncing as she giggled prettily behind her hand.

Israel Hands, Ben Gunn and Morwenna Chynoweth were all doubled over in their laughter, slapping knees, and elbowing each other. Drake and Demelza Carne, squished into the narrow space between the benches, sat on the floor, were covered in soot, their hair sizzling and on end after the spell Jim remembered they’d accidentally casted on the chocolate frogs they’d been eating.

Sorrow, like shivery, wet sludge, oozed down Jim’s spine when, at last, his eyes found the final member of their motley crew. Crammed between Jim and the window, features as striking in black and white as they’d been in life, Ross Poldark smiled, a little, fond thing that slanted his mouth gently to one side, his stare filled with an emotion Jim hadn’t noticed until it’d been too late.

A hiccup of noise drew Jim’s attention to the present, shuddering through his chest and swaying him onto his heels. It took a moment for him to realize he was responsible for the noise, his breath pushed out of him as grief swelled between his lungs. He clenched his teeth against the sting behind his eyes, willed away the tears that were already falling in thin trickles down his cheeks and onto the front of his sweater. Ravenclaw blue. A gift he’d found amongst his things when he’d unpacked during his last Christmas at home. The last Christmas before Voldemort tore the world apart.

Jim had been in his last year at Bryndox, had begged Ross to visit so they could celebrate Ross’ 18th together. It’d taken awhile for Jim to organize, but he’d managed to get everyone together, a surprise Ross hadn’t been expecting. Silly twat still hadn’t been able to wrap his head around the idea that he’d had real friends who’d given a damn about him.

Jim sniffed and ripped his gaze away from the photography, forced his body to turn around. On rubbery legs, he made his way back toward his room. The floor creaked under his feet in tandem with his heartbeat. He felt brittle, webbed like cracked glass, on the verge of shattering entirely if met with the slightest amount of pressure. He heaved himself through the open door, shutting it with his back as he fell against in, unable to keep himself upright any longer. Sliding to the floor with a miserable thump, Jim succumbed to the furious spiral of unwanted memories: Catching Ross’ gaze across the Great Hall, studying together, miscast spells and fingers brushing and touches that lingered and so many, too many almosts.

And now Ross was gone, burned to death because Dumbledore had misjudged the depths Voldemort was willing to sink to, to achieve his ends.

What had been harder to acknowledge, was that Albus Dumbledore wasn’t so different in that respect.

-

Demelza found Jim crumpled at the foot of his bed, comforter half dragged onto the floor and partly around him. Quiet as a church mouse, she deposited the tray of picky Christmas tea on the chest of drawers beside the door and stepped over to Jim, concern etched into her fair features. She’d seen him like this a scant handful of times since the fire that’d razed their camp outside of Crawley. It’d been the worst blitz attack on record, killing hundreds of the Order in one fell swoop.

Killing Ross Poldark.

Demelza sucked in a staggard breath and crouched down beside Jim, tracing her knuckles softly along the slope of Jim’s jaw, up, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. His face was lax in sleep, but the effects of the war were still evident. Grey-purple pouches under his eyes, lines around his mouth and across his forehead that had no business on the face of a twenty-two-year-old.

She spent a minute rearranging his comforter, fetching a pillow and placing it under his head. She rekindled the fire, stoked it until it burned hot and wide, chased away the chill of mourning. A quick spell to keep his food at the perfect temperature, and Demelza exited the room, closing the door behind her with a light snick.

Upon returning to the kitchen, Silver swept a sad, knowing look at Demelza through the steam of his boiling potatoes. He shook his head, made a low noise at the back of his throat, then returned to stabbing into the pot, checking for softness.

            “I wish I could do something to help.” Demelza said meekly, slipping into the chair beside Ben Gunn. He offered her a sympathetic look, squeezed her knee in support.

            “Ah, lass,” Silver gravelled, “This is a voyage he has to take alone.” He glanced at her over her shoulder and said wisely, “It’ll all work itself out in the end.”

            “It’s been almost a year.” She argued weakly, propping her elbows on the table, and leaning forward, dropping her head into her hands. Ben began to rub her back in comfort, humming the song they’d all made up one night in their tent, scared and desperate and naïve. It’d helped keep the shadows at bay back then; now, it only served to remind Demelza of what she’d lost.

            “I’m alright, Ben,” She said, lifting her head long enough to give him a small smile. He dropped his hand and returned her smile with a forced one of his own. “Thank you.” She added. He nodded again.

Ross had taken so much of Jim with him to the grave that Demelza wasn’t convinced Jim would survive his grief long enough to see the other side of the war. He was more brash, cared less about his wellbeing and was more erratic with his wand when they encountered Voldemort’s enforcers. The number of Unforgivable Curses Jim had hexed had risen from none to more than Demelza was comfortable admitting, even in the privacy of her own head.

            “Go on, lass,” Silver said a few minutes later, “Call the others.”

Already, serving trays and bowls floated through the open kitchen door toward the common room. They drifted to the tables Demelza and Benn had pushed together to make one long one beneath a few white tablecloths, setting themselves down neatly.  

Although she’d taken Jim an assortment of things from what had already been ready, she nevertheless asked, “Should I wake Jim? See if he feels better?”

He’d been locked in his room since they’d arrived.

            “No need. Let the lad sleep.” Silver said, waving her away.

Demelza stood and followed the potatoes and carrots into the common room, passing them as she made her way to the front door and out.

As soon as Silver was sure she was gone, he spared Ben a look that spoke volumes.

            “It’ll all work itself out in the end,” He repeated firmly and folded the dishtowel he’d had slung over his shoulder.

Ben nodded, his expression pinched but determined.

For what they knew and no one else did – by order of Dumbledore himself – was that Ross Poldark wasn’t as dead as it was made to appear…

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @marigoldvance based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Gen.

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

Happiness and Cheer

---

Pelargir sparkled in the holiday season, garlands on every lamppost, magnificent displays in storefront windows and charming, homey tunes crooning from small speakers along the High Streets. A light dusting of snow covered everything, transforming the bustling city center into a postcard-worthy scene. People bustled from cafés to department stores, arms laden with paper bags stuffed full of gifts, stress and cheer blending into interesting expressions on their rosy faces.

Hallmark movies soundtracked wine-and-wrapping evenings, themed plays and ballets were sold out, the Winter Village in the Market District was a revolving-door of families visiting from all over Middle-earth, coming to life as soon as the 30th of Halimath ticked into the 1st of Foreyule.

A low thrum of anticipation swept through the city in the lead up to Christmas. The big night itself wasn’t the only thing people looked forward to. On Christmas Eve, every year, while the more traditional attended Midnight Mass, another event took place that had become, itself, something of a tradition.

The Durin Corporation Holiday Party: A massive coming together of the who’s-who of Middle-earth; princes and kings and queens and celebrities, socialites, politicians. The red carpet preceded a night of comedy, music, delicious food, and entertainment. And then, after those two or so hours, the cameras stopped rolling and guests were invited to enjoy themselves.

There was something to be said about Dwarven festivities. They were exceptional in bringing out the most indulgent and rowdy sides of any member of any Race; even the demure, well-mannered Elves couldn’t contain themselves when introduced to Dwarven party games. And to Dwarven ale, which flowed freely and heavily from massive barrels, tapped, and arranged on their bellies in rows behind the bar.

This year, CEO Thorin Oakenshield had given the responsibility of organizing the event to his nephew, Kíli. An honor and a privilege, indeed, and Kíli took the task very seriously. Things had been coming together nicely until—

            “Everything is a catastrophe and I’ve ruined Christmas.” Kíli moaned into his phone, tilted upright against a cloche serving dish.

His messy hair curtained his face when he dropped his head forward in defeat.

            “You haven’t ruined Christmas.” Fíli said calmly, watching his brother through the videochat with a fond smile. “Everything’ll be fine, Kee, chin up.”

            “Easy for you to say! You’re hosting, you’ve just got to be your usual charming self, how hard is that!?”

Quite hard, actually, Fíli didn’t say, closing his laptop to put aside his introduction speech and give Kíli his full attention.

            “You don’t understand, Fee, the venue’s freezing and the man I spoke to said he couldn’t get permission to turn the heat on ‘til New Year, the caterer stepped down last minute, the second act had to cancel because apparently, one of the bandmembers wants to explore his inner jaguar or some prattle and—”

Behind Kíli, a streak of bright-hot orange dashed across the frame.

Fíli raised a brow, “Bofur’s on fire.”

            “AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH—”

            “—And Bofur’s on fire!” Kíli finished, gesturing as though to say voila. It took a few seconds for Kíli to clue into what Fíli had said, at which point his eyes widened comically and he whipped around, “AND BOFUR’S ON FIRE!” He tripped out of frame, returned equipped with a fire extinguisher, and then disappeared in the direction the screaming inferno had gone.

Some minutes later, Kíli reappeared, sooty and pitiful, puppydog pout in full affect. “Help.”

Although he hadn’t made much progress on his speech – a task he’d dreaded having to follow through with since Day One, but Uncle Thorin had appointed him Master of Ceremonies, so… – Fíli could never resist the lure of Kíli’s wobbly bottom lip and the hot-chocolate warmth of those watery eyes.

-

Kíli hadn’t been kidding, the venue, on of Pelargir’s historical buildings, was colder than the North Waste. But, l i g h t b u l b, that gave Fíli an excellent idea.

-

In the end, they’d swapped places. Kíli was better at engaging an audience anyway – and was downright edible in his well-tailored tuxedo – and Fíli’s organizational skills thrived under pressure. Thorin looked pleased with himself though Fíli couldn’t comprehend why. Regardless, the Durin Corporation Holiday Party was sweeping success. Champagne and fancy, signature holiday cocktails were passed around by smartly dressed waiters. Soft gold and white trees stood around the perimeter of the space, ribbons of crushed velvet fabric hung in a Big-Top fashion from the ceiling, the tails draped down the walls, reflecting the light and making the room feel elegant yet cozy.

Small electrical heaters were disguised as woodstoves and quaint fireplaces around the edges, behind the dining tables outfitted in shiny silverware and simple white cloths, thick fur throws on the backs of all the chairs should anyone desire the extra insulation.

At the center of the room, however, was Fíli’s biggest achievement. He’d decided to lean into the fact that the venue would be cold as a witch’s tit no matter what he did, and so he’d gone ahead and had a skating rink constructed. Guests could rent a pair of skates for a small fee, told the money would be donated to the children’s charity the following day. The Prince of Rohan had rented his for a generous six-hundred castars and was now showing off his abilities on the ice, spinning and twirling and winking at the ladies who watched him in awe. Meriadoc Brandybuck, friend of the Mayor of Michel Delving, was doing a rather impressive job of keeping pace with the Prince despite the significant difference in their heights.

            “You did it,” Kíli grinned, beautiful and boyish, bowtie loose around his neck and top two buttons of his dress shirt undone. He was leaned, back against the bar, elbows on either side of him, cheeks pink from mulled wine and merriment.

            “Nah,” Fíli dismissed, “You did it.” He nodded toward the platform where the brass band was in full swing, playing a lineup of upbeat, jazzy Christmas classics. Where Kíli had regaled their guests with anecdotes from the past year and told jokes that made the Elven King of Mirkwood spray wine from his nose.

            “We did it, then.” Kíli amended and lifted his glass toward Fíli.

Fíli clinked his sifter of brandy against Kíli’s whiskey and took a sip before dragging an empty stool as close as he could get it beside Kíli and climbing up one-handed, tucking himself into Kíli’s side happily. Simultaneously, they found their uncle in the crowd, smiling woodenly at him when they made eye-contact.

            “Why does he look so smug?” Fíli wanted to know.

            “I have absolutely no idea.”

            “It’s unsettling.”

            “Very strange.”

They threw back their drinks, spun on their stools and ordered another round.

-

Thorin was beaming, so very proud of his nephews, both having learned the value of asking for help. A lesson he’d intended to teach them from the start, one that was necessary as he groomed them to one day take over the Durin Corporation when it came time for him to retire.

That one of his advisors and closest friends had to ignite for that lesson to be learned flew completely over Thorin’s head.

[gatheringfiki]

Secret Admirers 2020 - The Summary

Hi lovelies,

Wow, we had 19 stories posted this year, which is a fantastic effort! Thank you so much, everyone who contributed!

If you haven’t already, please take a moment to leave a comment for the lovely authors :) We are having a particularly bad ratio of hits to comments on this event.

Also - did you know that as an Author, you can respond to comments and it will show up as ‘Anonymous Creator’?

As promised, below is the list of all stories written for this event:

Barbe à Papa for @curstaidh-mcintyre-writing (is this the right person?)

Ikhbêb Akhdashthuhûr for @patchworkideas

Heart of Stone for @rillils

Tire d’érable for @dragonquill

What The Water Gave Me for @sugarsu

Massepain for @morcanta

Biscuits for @patchworkideas

Just This Once for @patchworkideas

Hands Like Ice for @curstaidh-mcintyre-writing

From Dark Corners to Open Corridors for @dragonquill

Taming of the Heart for @damnitfili

Always for @marigoldvance

Du Chocolat for @legolaslovely

Summersong for @msilverstar

Woolgathering for @linane-art

Brim and Style for @rillils

Miel for @linane-art

Sleeping Alone for @legolaslovely

Farewell to the Lonely Mountains for @linane-art

Coming up next: Durin’s Day Gift Exchange!

(If we can get enough people)

Stay Tuned~

~gatheringfiki

[gatheringfiki]

(As usual, may I participate from LegolasLovely please? Thank you!)

I have so many I’ve loved this is so harrrddddddddddd

What the Winter Snows Gave Me by @i-am-still-bb (Curstaidh_MacIntyre)

Fili/Kili, Teen, Not Related

Fili lives in a very isolated cabin in the winter woods and comes home one day to see a squatter in danger of freezing hiding on his porch. Fili, being our usual, loving Fili, invites the stranger inside.

Bad Luck by @dreams-of-wander

Fili/Kili, Teen, Not Related, Modern AU, Warnings: Talk of homelessness

Fili leaves his office late one night to find a man sleeping in his car in order to escape the below freezing New York City streets. Fili is left with the decision to help or abandon the needy stranger.

Cornish Prisoner by dandelionpower

Darkhawk, Teen, Warnings: Mild Violence 

Pirate Jim and Prisoner Ross. Jim has to make a decision that may change his life (or end it) forever, and all because of the prisoner he’s grown a little too attached to on his captain’s ship.

A Book, A Downpour, and a Plate of Falafel by @lakritzwolf

Iolaus/Luke, Teen, Human AU

Iolaus, as always, leaves his studies to the last minute and runs to one of the local bookstores for help. The owner goes out of his way to help him, though Iolaus has to stay in the shop longer than planned because of a rainstorm. Not that he really minds…

It’s A Condition by @marigoldvance

Fili/Kili, Mature, Modern AU, Warnings: Mild Sexual Content

The boys think they have the house for themselves for some them time and to her slight (but loving) embarrassment, Dis knows exactly what them time means to her boys. Things get a little rocky (and hilarious) when something threatens the boys’ them time.

To Speak of Eternity by rillaelilz < I think this person has a tumblr? Sorry!

Fili/Kili, Teen, Gladiator AU

When their freedom is taken from them and all hope of happiness seems to be stripped away, Fili and Kili find love and hope in each other. “This is okay. This you can have.”

The Gift That Keeps Giving by @patchworkideas

Fili/Kili, Gen

All of Fili’s plans for Kili’s birthday gift have crashed and burned, but he’ll die of sleep deprivation before he let’s Kili’s day go by without the perfect gift.

[gatheringfiki]

Winter FRE 2020 - Responses Masterlist

Dates

How It Works

Crafters’ Signups

Prompts FAQs

Prompts Masterlist

Prizes Masterlist

Responses Registration

Google Docs Spreadsheet (In Progress)

AO3 Collection

Responses Masterlist

Winners Masterlist

Okay, it’s official! We’ve had the second most popular Raffle ever!

Woohoo!!! You guys are incredible!

Well done everyone and thank you for the time and effort you put in, helping build this wonderful fandom! Thank you for playing with us!

133 responses

17 people took part

~84 unique prompts had a response

Please take this opportunity to reblog, comment and provide some feedback for the entries you liked! Love your authors/artists! Can’t stress this enough.

You can still use the Google Docs Spreadsheet if you prefer, or browse the AO3 Collection, which also contains some of the fills.

Responses under the cut:

1) The genie tilted his head and presented his wrists, bound by a golden chain so fine, it might have been just a shimmering thread. "If you set me free, you will never see me again."

Photoset: Linane-art (F/K)

2) “I would kill for you in a heartbeat.” “I know, dear.” “Please, let me kill for you.” “No, dear.” (Anders/Mitchell)

Fic: MarigoldVance (A/M)

3) He keened, letting the water slide down his skin, suspended and helpless.

Fic: LegolasLovely (F/K)

5) Character A has been planning on proposing for a long time (everything has to be PERFECT) and then proposes to character B in a spur of a moment while doing something mundane like eating pizza or playing video games or something

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

6) Fire

Photoset: King-On-Carven-Throne (F/K)

9) Someone gets a cat. The other has allergies.

Fic: Silva-13 (F/K)

10) Fili using a bow

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

12) A golden locket

Photoset: King-On-Carven-Throne (F/K)

14) The magic flowed through his veins

Photoset: King-On-Carven-Throne (F/K)

Photoset: Linane-art (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

18) Fumbling, tickly, giggly sex

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

Fic: I-Am-Still-BB (F/K)

19) "Tell him that I miss him..." They have been cursed, and can't see or hear each other.

Photoset: King-On-Carven-Throne (F/K)

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

20) Rules are made to be broken

Fic: I-Am-Still-BB (F/K)

23) They drew lines and symbols all over his body. He knew he was the sacrifice.

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

24) "You're cute when you're angry."

Art: Tweak-girl-stuff (A/M)

26) Person A gets off work late at night to find a stranger (Person B) sleeping in his car (something fancy, Range Rover, Bentley, Porsche SUV, etc.) because it was below 0F and he had nowhere to go.

Fic: MarigoldVance (DH)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

Fic: Zulfiya-The-Warrior-Princess (F/K)

29) Ice Skating AU

Photoset: King-On-Carven-Throne (F/K)

Fic: Dragonquill (F/K)

31) Pets

Photoset: King-On-Carven-Throne (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

Photoset: LegolasLovely (F/K)

33) Time Travel

Photoset: King-On-Carven-Throne (F/K)

Fic: MarigoldVance (IoLuke)

35) The merman had been tied up, beaten bloody and by now was only weakly spasming against the cage.

Photoset: Linane-art (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

Photoset: LegolasLovely (DH)

37) It’s Character A’s birthday. Character B is stressed because he cannot find the perfect gift.

Fic: MarigoldVance (A/M)

38) Arranged Marriage AU (between them or not!)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

41) Voyeurism

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

Photoset: King-On-Carven-Throne (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

44) Shapeshifter

Fic: LegolasLovely (F/K)

Fic: MarigoldVance (A/M)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

Photoset: Linane-art (F/K)

Fic: Dragonquill (F/K)

Photoset: Linane-art (F/K)

45) (Preferred FiKi) Wizards in Training AU

Photoset: LegolasLovely (F/K)

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

49) Kili's braids

Fic: Damnitfili (F/K)

51) FiKi - The Borgia AU (With their uncle vying for the papacy, his limitless greed isn't even the family's darkest secret; incest is.)

Photoset: Linane-art (F/K)

Fic: Linane-art (F/K)

53) Epistolary style story

Photoset: King-On-Carven-Throne (F/K)

Fic: Damnitfili (F/K)

Fic: Flow-It-Show-It (F/K)

58) FiKi - His Dark Materials AU

Photoset: Damnitfili (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

59) "Wh- What's that for?!" "Oh, you'll see."

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

60) Wonderland AU. They're not too wild about these chaotic size jumps, but crazy tea parties are surprisingly enjoyable.

Photoset: Linane-art (F/K)

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

62) You're the stranger who's using my car's window as mirror to check how you look without noticing I'm sitting right in there, so I go ahead and open the window to tell you how pretty you are' AU

Fic: LegolasLovely (A/M)

63) They hooked the chains directly to Fili's spine

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

64) Sensory deprivation

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

67) Ancient Rome AU, where they're stationed at Rome's frontier (FiKi is preferred, but all others are welcome!)

Fic: Linane-art (F/K)

Fic: I-Am-Still-BB (F/K)

69) A/B/O dynamics

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

70) If you love someone, let them go.

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

72) Making a deal

Fic: Z-Aliada (F/K)

73) The telepathic bond has always been there, ever since they could remember.

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

74) One of them is a dragon that can take human form.

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

78) Met online AU

Fic: Z-Aliada (F/K)

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

79) Fili and Kili fall into a parallel fantasy universe of your choice

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

80) “That’s twice that you’ve killed me now. Shall we go for round three?”

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

84) Kid fic (either them being kids or them adopting/having a kid)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

87) Getting lost in the Land of Still Time wasn’t their smartest idea, but at least it was an idea

Fic: Z-Aliada (F/K)

88) Modern royalty AU

Fic: MarigoldVance (DH)

Photoset: Linane-art (F/K)

91) Kinky Fili: slight domination, ass slapping

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

100) A city that never wakes

Fic: Z-Aliada (F/K)

103) “You would seriously sacrifice the lives of millions of people just for one person?” “In a heartbeat.”

Fic: SaucyWenchWritingBlog (A/M)

104) Fili, a NASA scientist, and Kili, an artist

Fic: LegolasLovely (F/K)

106) "How long have you known?"

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

107) Kili and Fili - runaway teens

Photoset: Mysticalbarbariancreation (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

110) "I saw this and it made me think of you"

Fic: Damnitfili (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

111) They’ve tortured the prince for days, until he finally broke and gave them his dead brother’s name. He never expected for said brother to save him.

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

113) Tattoo studio AU: Whelp I got this tattoo when I was drunk and I heard you're the best please save me AND STOP LAUGHING I BEG YOU

Fic: Starstruckcrossianteggslime (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

114) Harry Potter AU

Fic: MarigoldVance (DH)

117) "Are you going to pick that up?" "I'm not sure" "Well, seeing as it's going to disappear in, like, three seconds, you'd better be sure fast."

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

118) A 1990s AU

Photoset: Mysticalbarbariancreation (F/K)

119) His voice had never sounded so cold.

Fic: Silva-13 (F/K)

120) FiKi - The Witcher AU (One exists to kill monsters and is not supposed to have feelings. The other is a mage playing a dangerous game)

Photoset: Linane-art (F/K)

Photoset: Linane-art (F/K)

Photoset: Linane-art (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

Fic: SaucyWenchWritingBlog (F/K)

Photoset: Linane-art (F/K)

124) Secretly holding hands

Photoset: King-On-Carven-Throne (F/K)

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

126) Plushie (not necessarily a kid!fic)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

143) Werewolves

Photoset: King-On-Carven-Throne (F/K)

145) Narnia

Photoset: LegolasLovely (F/K)

149) Post-victory moodiness

Fic: Z-Aliada (A/M)

154) One or both get turned into an animal (bonus: pov of the person turned)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

155) Kili keeps asking for help with simple household tasks (like buttoning jackets and tying shoes and clasping jewellery) that are obviously excuses to be close to each other. Fili is oblivious and happy to help, and everyone else just don't get it

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

156) Soulmates AU (anything sort of soulmates)

Fic: MarigoldVance (A/M)

Photoset: King-On-Carven-Throne (F/K)

Fic: Lakritzwolf (Ioluke)

157) Character A is a zoo keeper. Character B is a visitor who keeps using awkward puns to try and flirt.

Fic: LegolasLovely (F/K)

158) Mob AU

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

160) The Mummy AU

Photoset: Linane-art (F/K)

163) The "honeymoon" is over. One has habits that are annoying to the other. Write about it and make it funny.

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

165) Person A goes on a quest to see/capture an Oracle. The Oracle wants nothing to do with these shenanigans.

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

171) From lonely to never alone

Fic: I-Am-Still-BB (F/K)

178) Plant-sitting for my colleague did not go as planned

Fic: LegolasLovely (A/M)

182) Dis discovered about Fili and Kili relationships

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

186) “You kissed me.” “You kissed me back.” “And I’m not here to apologize.”

Fic: LegolasLovely (F/K)

187) There’s an old house at the end of the lane that’s not abandoned, but no one ever sees the occupant. One day Character A finds out why.

Fic: Z-Aliada (F/K)

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

1) The genie tilted his head and presented his wrists, bound by a golden chain so fine, it might have been just a shimmering thread. "If you set me free, you will never see me again." + 15) One of the pair has a disability (they were either born with it or became disabled through injury).

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

10) Fili using a bow + 56) “Easy,” he murmured. “You need to let me do this.”

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

16) A trip to Gondor + 39) The heir’s partner is determined through a challenge/tournament. Kili sneaks in to win it. (He doesn’t realise that Fili would bend the rules to fight for his own hand as well.)

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

37) It’s Character A’s birthday. Character B is stressed because he cannot find the perfect gift. + 46) It’s been days since he last slept; it was only a matter of time before he couldn’t stay upright any more.

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

48) Doing/Designing (each other’s) tattoos + 86) The tattoo was elaborate, with clever use of shadow to make the wings look almost real. And then one of them moved…

Fic: PatchworkIdeas (F/K)

69) A/B/O dynamics + 120) FiKi - The Witcher AU (One exists to kill monsters and is not supposed to have feelings. The other is a mage playing a dangerous game)

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

84) Kid fic (either them being kids or them adopting/having a kid) + 159) “Is it okay if I lean on you?”

Fic: MarigoldVance (F/K)

159) “Is it okay if I lean on you?” + 161) An unexpected kiss from Kili that shocked Fili

Fic: LegolasLovely (F/K)

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @marigoldvance​ based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Teen.

You can also read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

—

I Wonder As I Wander

Introduction

‘Tis known, though not by many, that there exists a vast eternity of worlds. Worlds above and below and all around. Worlds that float in the creases of memory, just outside the corner of a glance; in shadow and the in-between. Bleak worlds where laughter is never heard and some spectacularly bright. Worlds ruled by creatures with the bodies of one thing and heads of another, stitched together by myth.

Endless possibilities and places, sprouted from every What If and Could Have Been.

All this infiniteness meets neatly in the Crossroads of the Realms. Each stream of dust and light and life converging in a single place that so few have heard whisper or rumor of, it is believed it doesn’t exist at all.  

But exist it does, and thankfully so, or this tale would have ended before it had a chance to begin …

Once Upon A Time

Our story begins in a time of transition and hope; in a kingdom, in a mountain, cradled in the center of a world called Arda.

There had, not too long ago, ruled a mad king who had neglected his duties. Instead, he was fixated on gathering spells and assurances to return his dead queen from the After. But it could not be, no matter who said what, and so he sunk further into his grief. Following many long, weary years, he lay himself down and took the Endless Sleep, leaving in his stead his grandson to undo the ill the mad king had inflicted upon his kingdom.

When the new king took the throne, he swore to his people that he would return the prosperity and splendor the kingdom once knew.

And so it was.

But soon, the new king’s promise became obsession.

Despite all he achieved, the new king sought more. Over the years, the new king heard tales of a heart so pure it shone like the stars and gifted they who held it respite from pain and sickness and death. No challenger would be able to defeat the holder nor their armies, nor argue the holder’s divine right to wear the crown – one or all.

The new king took his sister-sons on a quest to find this pure heart, over mountains and through forests, until – at last – they found it. The heart was caged in the chest of a woman who slept peacefully on a bed of moss. She was beautiful and ageless, with skin that shimmered like snow under moonlight. At once, the new king’s sister-sons realized they had made a terrible mistake.

Yet the new king could not be swayed.

With his sharpest blade, the new king cut the woman’s heart from her chest and returned to his kingdom where he displayed it above his throne, so that those who thought to oppose him may gaze upon it and know, before they managed a word, that they held no power over him.

For awhile, the possession of the pure heart seemed to quell the new king and he ruled contentedly.

But awhile is not forever and the peace the heart yielded was eventually ended.

The woman whose heart the new king had stolen came seeking it. She was twisted and cracked and had aged many years in the time since her heart was removed. She stood before the new king and demanded he return it lest she be forced to take something equally as precious.

The new king denied her. Thus, without hesitation, she gathered one of his sister-sons for her own, to fill the hole where her heart had been. And it is here where our tale truly takes shape …

Part One

   “Kíli, no!” Fíli shouted and charged past his uncle who stood stoic on the dais.

Somehow, in the blink of an eye, Kíli had vanished from Fíli’s side and manifested again in the middle of the Hall of Kings, imprisoned in a thick glass sphere magicked from nothingness. Within, an unearthly storm raged; snow whipped and flurried and beat Kíli to his knees.

With waning strength, Kíli pounded against the seamless arc barrier, screaming what Fíli knew without a doubt was his name.

            “Let him go!”

The witch studied Fíli for a moment before she asked, “Do you love him?”

            “More than anything.”

Her smile, a slimy, unnatural thing, made Fíli sick. She already seemed to have regained some of her youth and Fíli didn’t want to consider where she was drawing those years from.

            “Then,” She said in a slippery voice, “He is perfect.”

Fíli’s eyes widened. “No! You can’t take him!”

He rushed the glass, sword drawn. When he brought the blade down, the metal shattered like ash. The shock ricocheted through him, shuddering in his bones, making his teeth chatter and head spin. The glass remained entirely intact.

The witch cackled and grabbed him by his hair, yanking him backward and forcing his back to arch until he was almost folded half the wrong way. Holding him tightly at his nape, nails dug into his skin, she bore into him. The intensity behind her eyes stole the breath from Fíli’s lungs.

            “You have no voice here, little prince. Your brother is mine. Your king has made it so.”

The Hall trembled under her power; shadows swelled and stone crumbled. No matter how this ended, Fíli only cared for one thing. 

            “I will find him.” Fíli swore through gritted teeth. “Wherever you take him, I will follow.”

            “You can try.”

She released Fíli, tossing him to the side like some raggedy plaything. Before he could find his feet, the witch burst into a thousand too-bright shards. The sphere exploded not a moment after and the storm within rushed the Hall – a tempest of biting snow and glass. Fíli winced, holding a hand up to protect his face. Where Kíli had been a solid body, there was now a spiral of frenzied white, gathering and letting out erratically.

            “I will find you!” Fíli swore into squall, straining to be heard over the roaring noise.

When the chaos settled, Kíli and the witch were gone.

An icy damp chilled Fíli’s skin as he knelt in the aftermath; a mound of snow and glass all that remained of his brother and the hell-creature who snatched him. Fíli willed his mind to find reason in what had just happened, but there was none to be found.

Kíli.

Fíli felt his uncle loom behind him; a calloused, heavy dark in his presence where once Fíli could trust he’d find tenderness and reassurance. Thorin rested a hand on Fíli’s shoulder though there was no comfort in the gesture.

            “One day, you will understand.” Thorin said.

Rage roiled within Fíli, making it impossible to answer. A thundering of too many feelings at once stung his eyes and his fists shook on his thighs. Somehow, he remained still, allowing Thorin to walk himself back to his throne and to his madness.

∞

Thorin lied about the encounter with the witch, about what happened to Kíli. Claimed Kíli was killed during the altercation: Nothing could be done, his wounds were too severe and, no, sister, you should not see him in such a state. Remember him as he was: Young and beautiful and alive.

Fíli’s throat burned when he remembered how heartlessness it was.

Still, he didn’t dare speak against his uncle. He couldn’t very well go after his brother if he was jailed or, worse, executed. Despite being Thorin’s heir, Fíli was no longer sure he was exempt from Thorin’s indifference and cruelty. As king, Thorin had already put too many to torture for little more than sassing a member of the court.

He was gone, the man Fíli called uncle, and he was unlikely to return.

A week had passed since Kíli’s taking in the Hall of Kings. A week of studying maps and collecting rations under his uncle’s nose. A week of preparing to depart without anyone noticing. A week of watching his mother wilt and her brightness dull. Throughout, Fíli bit his tongue and forcibly ignored his uncle’s ravings about how I, the king, sent the witch scurrying away with her tail between her legs, ne’er to return.

Fíli had a plan and he was ready to get it underway. Thorin was distracted with his duties in council and the feast to be held in Kíli’s honor (Fíli resisted the hate that threatened to overcome him); there would be no better time.

His mother was staring sightlessly out of her window, blanket draped over her lap, though Fíli was sure she felt neither warmth nor cold in her grief. He took a knee beside her and cradled one of her hands in both of his, resting his brow against them.

            “I’ll bring him back, Amad.”

His mother turned to rest her misty gaze on him, her voice shallow, “You cannot raise the dead, my son.”  

Fíli took a deep, settling breath. “I do not intend to.” And he swept himself onto his feet and marched from her chambers before she could see his anger.

In A Land Far, Far Away

The young prince began at the beginning: In the forest where he and his uncle-king and his brother had stumbled upon the woman whose heart they stole. Her bed of moss was empty and dead, the trees circling it petrified and black. Wherever she had taken her prize, it was not there.

The young prince traveled through swampland and tall grass and forest. Into the belly of mountains and out again – not always unscathed. He found refuge in the kindness of a Beast and his bees during a savage rain, and easier travel on the back of an Eagle after he helped it loose from a trap crafted by ambitious Goblins.

Woefully, there surfaced not a hint of his brother.

Nevertheless, the young prince wouldn’t falter; he would search all of Arda if he had to.

It was in the fourth month of his journey, when he was feeling particularly low and near defeat, that the young prince heard it. Well, heard is not exactly right: He felt it. A song with dips and highs and clever strings washed over him, gliding over his senses like silk over skin. It was soft and faraway and when the young prince tried to concentrate, it slipped as water through the shadows of dreams.

The young prince knew with everything that made him that it was his brother.

As soon as the song started in his mind, a small flit-fluttering streaked from the trees and dipped and swirled above his head, grabbing his attention quite deliberately. It swooped back and forth, into and out from the forest, urging him to his feet. A cardinal, the young prince marveled, was rare in parts that far North.

Curious, he followed.

Before long, he was greeted by a strange sight. A tall man with a thick, white beard and ancient eyes stood in the center of a circle of toadstools. He had a gentleness about him that the young prince was grateful for.

This man, the young prince was sure, was going to help him.

Part Two

Fíli frowned, looking the man up and down inquisitively. There was a peculiarity to him that Fíli couldn’t put his finger on. Something that made Fíli think he was more than one of the Men he’d met in the months he’d been traveling.

            “Who are you?” Fíli asked, hand hovering over the handle of his sword.

The man leveled him with a stare before answering, “I am Gandalf. And this – ” He gestured to the cardinal that had perched itself on the tip of his staff, “ – is Verling. He believes you are in need of some guidance.”

Fíli shifted from one foot to the other, eyes darting around as he thought of how to respond to such an unusual introduction. A cardinal wasn’t exactly a creature that believed things.

Unable to keep the question to himself, he blurted, “What are you?” completely eradicating any sense of princely decorum he may have had.

Again, the man paused for an uncomfortable moment before stating rather flatly, “I’m a Wizard.”

            “A Wiz— … ” Fíli shook the surprise from his head. “And you’re going to help me?”

            “Yes.” The Wizard – Gandalf – was overtly exasperated. “It seems I am.”

While he wasn’t opposed to assistance of any kind at that point, Fíli couldn’t help but wonder, “Why?”

            “Because it seems, Master Dwarf, that you cannot help yourself.”

Fíli couldn’t argue.

            “Do you know the woman who took my brother?”

A shadow settled over Gandalf and a low noise rumbled from his throat. Whoever the woman was, she was no friend of his.

            “She is a Silmaril Witch. One who you should never have crossed.”

            “That was not my choice!” Fíli said roughly. “Do you know where she has taken Kíli?!”

            “It is difficult to say. Witches of her ilk can walk the Crossroads of the Realms. She may still be here or … ” Gandalf scanned the skies as if to read the clouds, “She may be somewhere else entirely.”

Very helpful.

            “The Crossroads of the Realms isn’t real.”

Gandalf didn’t bother replying, simply looked at Fíli then looked ahead with narrowed eyes. He strode forward, his steps long and sure, in a direction Fíli assumed was the right way. They walked without sharing a word until sundown, when Gandalf didn’t so much ask as silently command Fíli to build them a fire.

As he relaxed into his roll, Fíli’s curiosity outweighed his desire to maintain the amicable not-being-condescended-to-ness he and Gandalf had erected between them.

            “What is a Silmaril Witch?”

            “For someone so committed to finding his lost brother, you didn’t do much to understand who took him. Now,” Gandalf leaned back against the large root of a tree, “We have a long way to go and hardly the time to go it. Rest. We leave at dawn.”

∞

Gandalf, Fíli decided, was mad.

They stood on a precipice with nothing ahead of them but blustering wind, and emptiness below. Gandalf was resolute and insisted they stay there so long that Fíli wasn’t sure his hands or ears or nose remained. His extremities were numb to the point of likely having cracked off without his noticing, and his beard was frosted white. That damned cardinal had had some sense, staying behind under the sun in the lush forest green.

            “Are you sure?” Fíli asked again. His tongue felt heavy and his lips swollen.

            “Quiet.” Gandalf barked, “It will happen soon enough.”

And happen it graciously did.

If Fíli could feel more than the cold, he would have been filled with amazement at the sight. When the moon rose to the peak of one of the many surrounding summits, a pulse of colorful aurora-light swept the vast northlands. It spread across all Fíli could see and then, unexpectedly, gathered itself into a teensy pinprick ball, hovering close to where he and Gandalf stood. It twinkled, the light somehow warming Fíli’s cheeks.

Fíli regarded it, ready with another in a series of questions, but was interrupted before he could open his mouth. The light flared again, erupting every which way and brought into existence a bridge that opened at Fíli’s feet. In the distance, at the other end, Fíli saw nothing. He didn’t have time to wonder what it meant since, in a snap, the light retreated, sinking into the tip of a spire (that surely hadn’t been there before Fíli blinked) and spreading outward again, its magic revealing a city of white marble and snow, vibrant and splendorous across the bridge.

Fíli gasped. A whole city, gone and then there!

            “Where did – … how is this possible?”

            “The Fae are a mysterious breed, Master Dwarf.” Gandalf sounded pleased with himself, “Their magic is as old as the Lamps themselves. I suggest you stay close.” And with that, Gandalf – who was somehow completely unaffected by the harsh cold (though perhaps moving slightly more stiffly) – forged ahead, Fíli close at his back.

∞

The Fae were, indeed, a mysterious breed. As the city had been difficult to find, existing just out of sight, so were the creatures who inhabited it. When Fíli was able to catch sight of one, he was lumbered by pools of deep onyx that trailed him as he moved along the path behind Gandalf. They were shorter than Dwarves, slenderer too, and their skin was so pale Fíli didn’t believe they’d ever seen sunlight. 

Somehow Gandalf managed to wrangle them an audience with the King of the Fae who was openly vexed at having the Wizard in his realm, never mind right there at the foot of the wide, ornately decorated dais his throne sat upon. Fíli could sympathize.

            “No.” The King said, trying to make their exchange quick. “I cannot do that. It is not within my power. Now,” He waved a dismissive hand, “Go away.”

Gandalf wasn’t deterred. As he was about to speak again, Fíli stepped forward.

            “Please, Sire. My brother was stolen from our home and I mean to get him back. I will do anything – anything – to see him returned safely.” 

The King stayed silent though his expression softened somewhat, to Fíli’s relief.

            “I wish only to access the Caves of Names so that I may search for him.”

            “Would you even know where to begin, boy?” The King inquired, raising a patronizing eyebrow.

Fíli stuttered, obviously not having thought of how immense something like the Cave of Names would be. “I – no. But with your help I’m sure – ”

            “No.”

Fíli deflated for a tick, but he rallied and mustered the courage to take a step toward the dais. Fist over his heart and determination in his eyes, he wasn’t giving up without a fight. For Kíli. 

            “I – ”

            “I have sweeties.” Gandalf offered.

Fíli’s mouth snapped shut, stunned. He remained facing the King while his eyes flitted urgently to Gandalf. Because offering a king – any king – candy as a means to secure entry to one of the most sacred places in the whole of Eä was … was absurd.

Fíli was further perplexed when the King seemed to seriously consider Gandalf’s offer.

            “No.” The King made up his mind at last. “I cannot help you. I am sorry. Now leave before I am forced to have you removed.”

            “Sweeties!?” Fíli demanded when they were out of earshot of the guards who’d escorted them past the palace gates. “You thought sweeties would persuade him to let me enter somewhere as enormously important as The Cave of Names!?”

            “I told you, Fíli: The Fae aren’t like the creatures you know. They aren’t of your world, nor are they of any other. Ridiculous as it may be, they appreciate things as common as sweeties; they’re hard to come by in these parts. Besides,” Gandalf explained, “The King usually enjoys them.”

He sounded distracted. Fíli chased his gaze and met with the sight of a young female Fae, hooded and dressed in beaded white robes. He recognized her from the throne room. She’d been among the councilmen and courtwomen.

            “It seems it doesn’t matter, Master Dwarf. Help may yet come in another form.”

            “I wish you’d just say things as they’re meant to be said.”

            “Nonsense. How would you get anything done properly if you didn’t have to consider it carefully first?”

            “A lot faster.” Fíli sighed and followed Gandalf as Gandalf followed the Faerie out of the street and around a corner.

∞

She led them down a steep and tapered path behind the palace. Fíli slipped several times over the icy crags and was astonished to see the Faerie move with all the grace of a dancer. She was fast to reach her destination and disappeared abruptly behind a large boulder.

Fíli and Gandalf manoeuvred more cautiously. Eventually, they arrived at a crevice that yawned wide and high. It was whipped and beaten smooth by a dozen ages of harsh weather and, when Fíli stepped inside, he saw that it was as deep as it was massive.

Light. Everything the Fae did, they did with light, Fíli was coming to realize. An eerie blue beckoned him downward, the path at last shaping into proper stairs as he descended. He was greeted by a wet heat and the sight of the Faerie waiting regally in the middle of a ring of large stones that appeared to come from somewhere else. There was a strong magic emanating from them; Fíli’s soul stammered under the pressure of it.

She turned to them and lowered her hood. Fíli staggered back, shocked, and fumbled for his sword.

            “It’s her!” He cried but the strength of his voice was muffled by the magic permeating the cave.

            “No.” The Faerie assured him calmly. “Though I understand your confusion.”

Opal eyes and skin that glittered like ripples of water under moonlight …

            “A twin, then!” Fíli accused.

            “In a way, I suppose.”

Her patience was infuriating. 

            “I wish to help you, young prince. My father’s refusal was … unfair.”

            “So why did he? Refuse?” Fíli’s brow knitted. He prowled a slow circle around her, hand still poised to unsheathe his sword should he need to.

            “He doesn’t like your Wizard.”

Gandalf harrumphed somewhere over Fíli’s shoulder. 

            “And why should I trust you?”

            “Why did you trust him?” The Faerie motioned to Gandalf.

            “We all make mistakes.”

She dipped her head and smiled. Rising again, she explained, “Hear me. Where your brother is, he doesn’t belong. I merely hope to restore balance. You can either trust me or continue to look everywhere he isn’t.”

Kíli…

            “Do what you need to. Just get me to my brother.”

            “So be it.”

In a sharp flash, the Faerie struck Fíli’s chest with her palm. Worlds opened behind his closed eyes, shapes of things he never could have imagined himself coming into focus and then swept away like sand in the wind.

All Fíli knew thereafter was the weightless sensation of falling before he was claimed by utter black.

There Lived A Prince…

The fae-witch set the conditions under which she would help the young prince.

Once a year, on the twelfth day of the twelfth month, when her magic was strongest and the veils between worlds was thinnest, she would reveal for him the doorway to the Crossroads of the Realms. Howbeit, she could grant the young prince no more than twelve days in whichever world he chose to rove in search of his lost brother.

The young prince agreed to her terms and was thrust through the doorway and along many pathways that had their roots in the Crossroads.

For eleven years, the young prince wandered. For eleven years, he failed.

Despite his failure, his hope never waned: The young prince would persevere until his last breath. Never would he surrender his brother.

Finally, on the twelfth day of the twelfth month in his twelfth year of searching, the heartsong beckoned him through his last doorway. As soon as the young prince entered the new world, he felt his brother’s presence caress him.

But things are not always as simple as they seem …

Part Three

Kíli stood under the twinkling fairylights strung crisscross and everywhichway above the courtyard. He’d been preened and pampered, dressed handsomely in black silk and white cotton, and paraded before his Mistress’ band of fat, well-to-do men and their sparkling women all evening until, finally, his Mistress had declared the party a bore and announced they should return home.

He closed his eyes, fingertips gentling the neck of his violin in restrained anticipation, reveling in this rare moment alone.

His Mistress treated him well; doted him with the newest clockwork trinkets and toys. Lately, Kíli wondered if these gifts were meant to shut him up. To mollify his curious mind, his want for answers. She loathed his questions – deflected or ignored him altogether; if he caught her in a mood, she punished him using nails and teeth and rough kisses.

She would apologize. Kíli would forgive despite a hushed yet insistent voice screaming that it was wrong wrong wrong, don’t! Flee, run, escape! He could never make sense of those thoughts. Because he loved his Mistress and his Mistress loved him and they’d been together for …

He wasn’t sure.

But it must have been a long time for her to love him as she did.

Sometimes Kíli wondered if everyone struggled to recall things. The years behind him were grainy, elusive. Whenever he tried to focus, the images his mind conjured wouldn’t stay still. His dreams felt more real to him than the memories his Mistress fed him. Dreams of a man with golden hair and leonine eyes and a passion so fierce, it consumed Kíli, lingering into those blissful, lazy junctures between sleep and wakefulness.   

Kíli hoped that, somewhere out there, the man existed if only so they could meet, even once.

Kíli lifted his violin to rest snugly between his chin and shoulder. His mind emptied, arms loosened, and he drifted as the music came to life through his hands: Affection and devotion, joy and warmth, a hint of melancholy at the edges of a song he had no memory learning.  

One day, he thought, you will find me.

∞

The heartsong was a finicky compass but remained steadfast, following the impressions of the witch’s left-behind magic. Elven worlds where she and Kíli had been and gone. Eleven worlds where Fíli had heard the melody, each note a breadcrumb leading him closer to his brother.

Fíli rose from the crouch he stumbled into after being thrust through the portal. It never got easier, like being dragged underwater against the charge of the current. He heaved and coughed, blinked the dizzying spots from his eyes. The portal had deposited him in an alleyway under thick shadows for which he was grateful.

Discretion wasn’t always guaranteed …

Falling against the side of the building at his back, Fíli allowed himself a moment to asses any changes. The sometimes-transformation was incredibly disagreeable in the first few moments after it happened and now was no exception: Fíli ached, his body stretched lean, the bulk of his muscles lighter. In this foreign world, he was the height of a Man – if on the shorter side – and, should he catch his reflection, he knew he wouldn’t recognize himself; beard trimmed, and wild mane of hair close-cut.

Fíli smoothed his hands over his arms and chest, fingertips scratching along the fabric that made a prim three-piece suit (a fashion he’d worn in a previous world). His shoes were glossy black and narrower than he preferred, and the starched white collar of his shirt buttoned just a little too constrictively around his neck. Straightening and searching his pockets, he breathed a sigh of relief when his left hand curled around the object that he’d carried with him since the fist day of his venture.

Satisfied he had everything he needed, Fíli closed his eyes, as he had done eleven times before, and listened.

∞

The music felt different that night as it thrummed through his veins. With every sweep and pull, Kíli came more to life. The stickiness in his mind began to recede. He played and played until the song ended and then began again, the compulsion to don’t stop, guide me, let me find you – resonating in every heartbeat.

He was utterly devoured by sensation.

∞

Fíli ran, hardly bothering to take in his surroundings. He caught glimpses of brass and gold, gears and cogs and steam working everything that made the city around him. Electricity buzzed through lines and lit the cobblestone streets in amber.

He dodged another lamppost, calling an apology over his shoulder to a prim woman and her dog, out for an evening stroll. Fíli wasn’t going to stop. Couldn’t stop if he wanted to. His soul was summoned, pulled forward as if by threads, and Fíli didn’t have the mind to question it as his legs pumped under him.

The heartsong became louder, clearer, closer.

Kíli, don’t stop, please, I’m almost with you …

∞

A rustling from the end of garden was obtrusive enough to distract Kíli from continuing. He peered into the dark, frowning when he saw the silhouette of a figure emerge from between the bushes. There was no fence, no wall, nothing aside from the line of twigs and leaves to prevent intruders from sneaking into the garden and it seemed that this stranger had taken advantage of that.

            “Hello?” Kíli said to the shadows, watching the figure carefully should he mean Kíli harm. He might not have much of a memory but Kíli wasn’t useless. He knew how to defend himself.   

∞

Fíli couldn’t breathe. His brother, his Kíli, was right there, beautiful under the canopy of glittering lights. He stood proud and tall, his hair in playful curls and his scruff shaved away. Fíli resisted the urge to clutch his chest, his heart pounding an unsteady rhythm against his ribs, his pulse rushing in his ears, making it impossible to think straight.

He never really considered what he’d do or say when he finally found Kíli. Just knew he wanted his brother back in his arms where he belonged. Who cared about words and fluff when they would have each other again?

But right then, he felt he should’ve rehearsed something to emphasize the significance of their reunion.

Fíli emerged into the courtyard’s dim light, revealing himself, preparing himself for Kíli’s weight when he received an armful of him. However, Kíli stayed where he was, stiffening minutely, examining Fíli like he would a stranger with an odd proposition.

Devastation struck Fíli in the stomach.

He – he doesn’t know me.

∞

Kíli lowered his violin. The man looked … familiar. Something he was rarely able to say with confidence. Kíli cocked his head to the side and studied him as he approached, slowly, as if Kíli would startle like some skittish deer.

            “I’m not an animal, I won’t run away.” Kíli groused and took a few steps forward to prove his point.

            “That’s … a relief, actually.” The man smiled, somehow managing to look miserable and happy all at once.

The man didn’t stop at an appropriate distance as Kíli assumed he would. In fact, he sidled right into Kíli’s space until they were sharing breath and heat. For reasons unknown, Kíli didn’t object. He searched the man’s face, not sure if he was hoping to find answers.

            “Do – do you know me?”

            “Yes.” The man whispered, bringing a hand to cup Kíli’s jaw. The gesture wasn’t shy. In fact, it felt like they’d done this a thousand times before. Like it was natural between them to touch and caress and fall into each other as people do when they’re –

            “Do you love me?”

            “More than anything.”

The man’s response didn’t startle Kíli as he imagined it should have. Which did startle Kíli. Because who was told that they were loved – by a stranger, no less – and didn’t have a single objection or thought to spare about how impossible that was. And not simply a stranger, a man who’d decided to come through the bushes. Kíli’s head spun, his mind leaden and throbbing as it was bombarded by questions.

            “Do you know who I am?”    

Their faces had drawn closer without Kíli noticing.

            “Will you let me help you remember?”

Kíli nodded weakly, lids heavy and breath quick. The man’s hands coaxed Kíli to bend his head toward him. Their lips brushed and the sensation sparked fire through Kíli’s veins.

More, please, more.  

∞

I can’t believe I’m about to do this…

As much as Gandalf argued the contrary, Faeries were exactly as described in the stories their mother had told them in their youth. Sneaky and wily and temperamental. And exceptionally fond of curses with simple resolutions.  

True love’s kiss …

            “This’d better not be a load of shit.” Fíli murmured when he pulled back, breath quavering as he searched Kíli’s eyes for any sign of recognition. All he saw was confusion.

            “What?”

            “Nothing,” Fíli said and took a second to muster all the belief and prayer and love he had within. Grabbing Kíli by the lapels, Fíli dragged him down and reclaimed his lips with renewed vigor, firmer and more … just more.

He nipped at Kíli’s mouth, pinprick sensations that drew a gasp Fíli wanted to hear again and again for the rest of his days. He sucked Kíli’s bottom lip between his teeth greedily and released, licking in to explore the wet heat of Kíli’s mouth. Kíli tasted of spice and musk and home. They slotted together, Kíli’s body beginning to slacken under Fíli’s ministrations. Kíli’s hands hesitantly moved to cup his waist, not clutching tight like Fíli wanted, but it was better than nothing at all.

The deeper he kissed Kíli, the more frantic Kíli responded, embracing him, accepting him, inviting him in.

Suddenly, Kíli tore himself from Fíli and released a wounded scream into the night.

It was working.

Fíli caught him as he lurched forward on unstable legs. He collapsed into Fíli as years of memory crashed over him in waves, the sound of his reawakening echoing loudly in the courtyard.

            “No!” The shrill cry came from inside.

Dread filled Fíli. Kíli writhed and twisted unnaturally, both falling to the ground under his weight. The wind gusted and the air crackled, pricking the exposed skin on Fíli’s face and hands.

The door from the house to the courtyard exploded outwards, destroying most of the surrounding structure with it, and revealed the witch. Her face was gnarled with a firestorm-rage, tendrils of her dark magic spiking from her body and whipping in all directions. Fíli held Kíli tightly to him. He wouldn’t let go; he wouldn’t lose him. Not again.

            “You will not take him!”

            “He is not yours to keep!” Fíli yelled, defiant, managing to rise to one knee. “He was never yours!”

The witch’s mouth spread into a thin, ugly smile, all black gums and sharp teeth. She raised her hands, concentrated blisters of magic ready to be hurled.

Before she could attack, however, everything went sideways. Great rips and tears split the world like shredded fabric.

The courtyard and everything around it receded and changed, whorls of new colors replacing the old. Bricks sunk into the earth and, where there had been carefully crafted walls, rocks and cavestone knitted together to form a cavern around them. Fíli held Kíli tightly when he recognized what the world was shifting to.

The witch came into focus seconds later, her wail ringing throughout the cave. Unaffected by the tug-drag of abruptly entering another world, she lunged at the brothers, scrabbling to reclaim her hold on the one she’d claimed for her heart.

She clawed herself across the ground, slithering with otherworldly speed toward Fíli and Kíli, who had gone rigid except for the erratic rise and fall of his chest.

As she came upon them, there was another clap-boom of light, this one warm and comforting. Flaring outward between the brothers and the witch, and in again, it took the shape of a person. Or rather, Fíli surmised, a Faerie.

The light dimmed to nothing and in its place floated the Faerie Fíli had come to know as Allya. Her angles and lines were harsher and her shoulders squarer as she stared the witch down. The witch rose onto her spindly legs and stared back, seeming far too excited about being interrupted.

            “Hello sister.”

Fíli knew it. A point he would celebrate later. For now, he had to ensure that Kíli would never be hunted by this hell-creature again.

A spear blossomed in Allya’s hand, readying to strike the witch who was still creeping toward them by inches.

            “Wait!” He cried, laying Kíli down as gently as he could in his haste, “Stop!”

Both the witch and the Faerie looked at him in confusion.

He stood, reaching into his pocket. “Wait.” He said again with a calm he certainly didn’t feel.

The witch eyed him suspiciously but wait she did.

            “I believe this is yours.” Fíli held out a stone that shone brighter than moonlight. The pure heart his uncle had stolen from her chest. “You can have it back only if you swear never to come after us. You leave us in peace. You leave Kíli in peace.”

Fíli refused to gape at what happened next. Gradually, in increments, the witch’s magic abated. Her face softened and limbs released their perverted shape. She was made lovely once again.

            “You would return my heart to me? Against the wishes of your king?”

            “I would do anything, against him or anyone else, if it means my brother is safe and his life is his own.”

Allya smiled, banishing the spear into nothingness, and glided forward. She reached out to take the pure heart from Fíli so that she might return it to her sister.

            “What say you, Moira? Will you give them peace?”

The witch – Moira – considered long enough for Fíli’s hope to falter but, eventually, she, too, smiled and accepted her heart from Allya. The stone’s light flared, glad to be reunited with she who belonged to it.

            “You have my word.”  

… Whose Heart Was Made Of Bones And Flesh

With her pure heart returned, the woman blessed the young princes and gifted them with a raven who was wise and loyal and great in size so as to be ridden across the skies of Arda to home.

After the witch vanished, the young prince turned to the fae-witch and thanked her for all she had done. As a final gift, she blessed the young princes with pendants of ice that would never melt and would always point them in the direction of the other so long as their love was true.

Many weeks later, when the princes finally returned home on the back of their raven, much had changed. They were received by their mother who had forced the new king from his throne. She sat in his stead, proudly and without the madness that had corrupted him and his grandfather-king before him. She welcomed them with feasts and dancing and allowed the all the peoples of their kingdom and others to join them in their celebrations.

But, it was when the merrymaking was over that the brothers truly celebrated. In the sanctity of their chambers, in the light of a dying fire, they found love in each other, using their bodies to explain all the things they couldn’t say in words…

Part Four

Fíli slunk behind Kíli and wrapped his arms around Kíli’s naked torso, relishing the feel of Kíli’s smooth back against his furry chest. He’d missed this so profoundly Fíli wasn’t sure how he’d managed to survive as long as he had without it.  

            “How does it feel?” He asked, lips grazing the shell of Kíli’s ear. “Being yourself again?”

Kíli sighed contentedly, “Honestly?” He turned and grinned over his shoulder, a cheeky, sunbright thing, “It’s a relief to know I can play more than one song.”

There was a beat of stunned silence before Kíli snorted and then burst out laughing, Fíli joining in soon after. Kíli collected his violin from the chair beside the window where they stood and began to play. Fíli followed suit and together they played every melody Kíli remembered, their music carried by the wind to spread their joy throughout the land they called home.

And They Lived Happily Ever After…

—

Author’s Notes:

[The Crossroads of the Realms/Cave of Names: (ref.) The Way of Wizards by Tom Cross

The “Heartsong” inspired by: “I Wonder As I Wander” performed by Lindsey Stirling

I imagine them playing “I Saw Three Ships” performed by Lindsey Stirling at the end … do with that what you will XD]

This was … I mean … this got out of hand somewhere between receiving the photoset-prompt, watching The Golden Compass and listening to I Wonder As I Wander. By the end, I was grasping at straws trying to tie in the photoset and the lads are exhausted and I’m exhausted and I know there’s so much missing because I have it written down (bullet-points) but ... deadlines? I’m satisfied for now but, heed me folks, I will be fleshing this out! Especially the end. I have so many cuts and notes, it’s not even funny. This is the most elaborate piece of writing I’ve undertaken in EVER (maybe 13 years?) so THANK YOU @GatheringFiki for pushing me to go beyond what I thought myself capable of :D now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to die gracefully somewhere… xxx

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @marigoldvance​ based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Gen.

You can also read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

—

Fíli settled back in his seat, politely refusing the steward’s offer of headphones and a blanket. It wasn’t a long flight. He dozed after takeoff, allowed his mind drift to the myriad of possibilities that awaited him upon his arrival.

The place was theirs, gifted to them by the forest during a time when they were desperate for privacy, aloneness, somewhere they could indulge in each other and the thrashing heat of taking what they wanted.

They’d made it theirs over the years. It was a cozy smudge against a vast, white landscape. Wood and glass and stone. The world around it was serene, all shy mornings and peaceful nights. Somehow, he and Kíli had blended perfectly into that place as if they’d always belonged there.

Fíli knew – a profound, unshakable truth – that Kíli was waiting for him there. A candle lit in the window ushering him through the darkness of their choice to abandon the comfort they’d known forever. They’d given up everything, together, but somewhere along the way Fíli had gnarled and grown distant under the weight of what they’d done. What they’d ended to find their beginning.

Kíli had never questioned it. Had always been confident and forgiving and promised Fíli they would have each other and that meant more than anything else in the world.

Why hadn’t Fíli believed it?

Eventually, his regrets snarled and gnawed at him until, no matter how much love Kíli cast on him, he had to leave. To think, to find answers, to find himself? He wasn’t sure anymore.

But he was done.

He knew who owned him and, every day without Kíli was agony. He’d been stupid. Stupid to leave Kíli in a tumble of his uncertainty; the questions answered the day Kíli was born but those answers ignored because Fíli hadn’t known how to agree with them anymore.

Every thread unraveled until he was nothing, standing in the middle of a city he couldn’t name.

So, Fíli had gotten his head out of his ass, booked a ticket and was on his way home, where he was meant to be.

When he landed, he hurried through the airport, paid for his rental and drove. Beside him, in the passenger’s seat, his apology snuffled and watched the scenery streak by in a grey-brown blur, a look of pure, unconditional elation on its furry face.

            “Let’s hope he accepts you, boy.” Fíli said and scratched the pup behind his floppy ears. He got a sloppy lick in response. Hopefully a sign of good things.

Fíli would understand if Kíli couldn’t take him back with open arms, the way he needed Kíli to.

Kíli could’ve moved on. Could’ve sought refuge where they hadn’t been able to find happiness together. It had only been months, but it felt like years to Fíli; who knew what storm he’d left in his wake. Kíli was reckless and emotional at the best of times. Fíli didn’t doubt that Kíli would have, had he been so inclined, returned to the home they’d run from out of spite.

But when paved road turned into dirt and Fíli pulled up to the cabin, he saw it, in the window, flickering its welcome: A small candle lit just for him.

Kíli was already standing on the porch, trying to look every bit as angry as Fíli thought he was. Still, there was a hint of something else at his edges, something lighter that roused Fíli’s hope and stirred him into action. It didn’t take more than a blink, a strangled gasp, before Fíli ran to Kíli, praying with every heavy step that he hadn’t imagined that something-lighter.

Kíli caught him in a tight embrace, face immediately finding its way home into the crook of Fíli’s neck and shoulder.

            “God, I’m so sorry.” Fíli choked, holding his brother like he would lose him if he let go. “I’m so, so sorry.”

            “What the fuck took you so long?” Kíli’s voice was thick, his words shattering Fíli one by one.

            “I – ”

Before he could continue, Kíli was shifting them around and staring a question over his shoulder. Fíli frowned and then remembered. The pup had jumped out of the driver’s side door and trailed Fíli, jumping back and forth in his path of footprints.

            “Oh.” Fíli squeezed Kíli to him, arm tight around Kíli’s waist. “This is Brax.” Kíli glanced between Fíli and the dog, confused. The anger was seeping from his expression in increments. Fíli stumbled to explain, “He’s – uhm – he’s sort of my way of apologizing.”

            “He’s an apology-dog?” Kíli asked, snorting in disbelief.

            “If you’ll have him?” Fíli cleared his throat. “Have us?”

Kíli sighed and looked away. Just as Fíli was preparing his heart for ruin, Kíli responded, “He’s a start.”

And Fíli knew: He was home again. 

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @marigoldvance​ based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Gen.

You can also read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

—

Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies

He was dreaming, he knew, because rats didn’t have kings and he wasn’t a prince and candies didn’t dance nor curtsy. Most of all, how he really came to realize this was all a dream was nutcrackers weren’t handsome. Or his height. Or able to move on their own. He could list off quite a few more reasons but the nutcracker was staring at him, waiting for him to say something.

            “No?” He said uncertainly.

            “No?” The nutcracker repeated, frowning.

            “Yes?” He tried again.

And, again, the nutcracker repeated, “Yes?” And then said, “You don’t seem very sure.”

That was an understatement. “Truthfully, I’m not very sure of anything at the moment.”

            “Such as?”

            “Well, for starters, where I am. Who you are? If I’m still myself because that – ” He pointed rather hard to the corner of the room – that was once not as huge as it was then – where an alarmingly tall Christmas tree stood, “ – shouldn’t be as gargantuan as it is. Which means either I’ve shrunk, or it’s grown and neither seems possible, thank you very much.”

            “You’re welcome.” The nutcracker said dismissively, more concerned with the tree and the changes it supposedly underwent. “Do you still feel like yourself?”

            “I – sort of?” He sputtered for a moment, backtracking and deciding to take control of the situation. “Who are you!?”

The nutcracker turned his full attention to him and bowed deeply, “Fíli. At your service.”

When he straightened, the nutcracker regarded him expectantly.

            “Oh. Oh!” He shook the fog from his head. “Kíli. My name is – uh – is Kíli.”

Satisfied, the nutcracker – Fíli – led him by the hand to the should not be that gargantuan tree and through a forest of gold and white and shimmering red; over velvet and satin ground, deep into a world Kíli couldn’t wrap his mind around. They came upon a gathering of tittering, twinkling folk who hummed and buzzed their gratitude for Kíli who wasn’t entirely sure what they were thanking him for. All he could recall was disposing of a rat that had had the misfortune of scuttling out of its hole while Kíli was dousing the candles in the parlour.

Fíli pulled him gently forward through the crowd of whatever they were (little creatures resembling confections, so unusual Kíli had nothing he could compare them to) and settled him in an ornately crafted gold chair. Fíli graced Kíli with a warm smile (Kíli winced in return) before turning his attention ahead.

Before Kíli could ask what they were doing, music began to play. It came from everywhere, no band or instruments or music box in sight, as if gifted from the air itself. Kíli watched dancers leap and twirl in flutters of ribbon and tulle. Performance after performance. It was marvelous, really, and Kíli was certain he’d appreciate it if he wasn’t so bloody confused.

He chanced a glance at Fíli beside him who was merrily enjoying the show. When he met Kíli’s eyes, the world began to spin, becoming a hazy stream of glittering white and berry red and sugary laughter. It swirled and swirled, Kíli’s breathing erratic as he tried to find something to tether himself to, until, finally, it stopped.

Kíli lurched up and immediately flung a hand out, relieved when it landed with a smack on his brother’s firm, furry chest. Fíli ha-oumphed, jolted awake by the abrupt force of Kíli thwacking him as he slept.

            “What – ?”

            “You’re not a nutcracker!”

Fíli blinked groggily, voice sleep-rough, “ … No?”

            “I dreamt you were. And I killed a rat and then you made me sit through an entire ballet and … ”

Fíli groaned and tucked himself back under the covers, rolling onto his side facing away from Kíli and his frenetic energy.  

Kíli turned wild eyes on him, vowing to them both and anyone listening: “And I am never drinking Bofur’s eggnog again.”