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rynneer · 2 months

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Promises

He was so much like his father, wasn’t he?

Promises made.

Promises broken.

Fíli’s childhood was defined by promises—but not every promise can be kept.

“Go, pony, go! To war!” Fíli bounced in the saddle, brandishing a wooden sword. His mount paid no attention to the dwarfling’s commands. It merely snorted and scuffed at the ground with its hoof.

“There’s my little warrior,” came a chuckle from the stable door. Víli shook his head with a smile, hoisting his son off of the pony.

“Can I come with you?” Fíli asked, his eyes wide and hopeful. He waved his sword in the air at imaginary foes. “Look how good I fight!”

Víli balanced Fíli on his hip, ruffling his hair. “Not just yet. Give it a few years, hm?”

“We should make haste, Víli.” Thorin entered with two packs slung over his shoulder. He tossed one to Víli, who caught it in his free arm with ease. “We’ve only a few days before the snow begins to melt and refills the gulch.”

Víli nodded and set Fíli on the ground. “Go fetch your mother. She’ll have my head if she doesn’t get a kiss goodbye.”

Fíli scampered away, still swinging his little sword.

Víli’s smile faded as he watched his son running back up the hill to their cottage. “Thorin?”

“Hm?”

“If anything happens–”

“Don’t, Víli,” Thorin cut him off. He turned from where he had begun saddling up his pony. “Nothing will happen. We will be back by springtime’s end.”

“Please, Thorin.” Víli placed his hand on Thorin’s shoulder. His dark brown eyes were troubled, his brow knitted with worry. “If anything should happen to me, promise me you will look after my boy.”

“You have my word.” Thorin busied himself with tacking up his pony, trying not to show his discomfort with the thought. He had not spent much time alone with the child, not since Fíli was a baby. Though he cared fiercely for his sister, his last remaining family, she was starting one of her own. He respected that, and did his best to stay out of the way—a difficult task when they all were forced to shared a small home.

“I know this is important,” Víli said after a long silence.

Thorin turned. His brother-in-law fidgeted with his mount’s reins, checking and re-checking the buckles. “And I will follow you wherever you ask, without question. But my heart is heavy, and I don’t know why.”

“We will return,” Thorin assured him. He tugged on his pony’s reins and led her from the stables.

“Not so fast, little one!”

Thorin and Víli looked up to see Fíli running back down the hill, his legs a blur. Dís trailed after. “Amad said I can go!” he crowed as he launched himself at his father.

“I said no such thing!” Dís puffed. She was slightly pale, perhaps even a little green. Her brow shone with a thin sheet of sweat.

Víli noticed immediately. “Are you feeling ill, amrâlimê?” he asked, stepping forward and taking her face in his hands. His steps were hindered by Fíli, who had wrapped his arms around his father’s leg. Víli lifted a boot and tried to shake him off, but the little boy held on stubbornly.

“I’m fine,” Dís replied. Her face grew solemn, and she combed her hand through her husband’s golden locks. “You’ll come back to me, won’t you, my love?” She fiddled with his silver beads, tracing the runes.

“Of course.” Víli kissed her forehead. He bent over and tugged on Fíli’s hair, drawing a squeak of protest. “I promise.”

Dís gave him a peck on the cheek, and turned her attention to Thorin. She adjusted the pack on his shoulder and straightened his collar. “Don’t do anything rash. Don’t be a hero,” she whispered. Her hands stilled, and she locked eyes with him. “I refuse to bury another brother.”

Thorin reached up and took her hands, bringing them back down to her waist. Silence hung heavily between them at the reference to Frerin. At last, Thorin leaned down and gently rested his forehead against hers. “You won’t have to.” He straightened up and dusted himself off. “Balin and Dwalin will be waiting for us down the road. We should go.” He saddled up and kicked his pony’s sides, nudging her forward to the path leading up to the mountain pass.

Víli took his wife into his arms once more. “Must you go?” Her voice was muffled in his coat.

“You heard the reports from the south. We have to go flush out that band of orcs. I have to keep you safe.” He released her, and crouched down so he was level with Fíli. Víli wrapped him in a bear hug.

“Promise you’ll be back?” Fíli’s voice was small, almost lost in his father’s thick mane.

“I promise.”

***

Dís hummed as she scrubbed the breakfast dishes clean, elbow-deep in the soapy water. A black curl fell in her face and she blew it away with an impatient huff. “Fíli? Can you come help your mother, please?”

Fíli grumbled, but he clambered to his feet and joined her in the kitchen. Dís handed him the plates and a dishcloth. “Thank you, kurduwê.” She leaned against the counter with a sigh and placed a hand on her small bump, just starting to strain at her dress. There was a tiny flutter in her belly. Dís smiled, stroking it gently.

“When’s it gonna get here?” Fíli asked, standing on his tiptoes and tugging at her skirt.

“Six more months, my dear.”

He pouted, wrinkling his nose. “That’s forever!” he whined.

Dís chuckled and shook her head, taking the dried plates from his hands. As she put them back in the cupboard, there was a frantic pounding at the door. “They’re back!” came a shout from the other side.

Dís’s eyes lit up. She rushed from the cottage, running as fast as she dared down the hill with a grin. It was only a few days after Víli and Thorin left that she learned she was with child, and since then, all she could think of was how excited her husband would be.

The two ponies plodded into the village, heads drooped in exhaustion. Thorin’s head hung low as well, betraying his own weariness. A small crowd of dwarves began to gather as news of their return made its way through the town.

“Víli, Thorin!” she cried. But as she neared, her brow creased in confusion. Yes, there were two ponies, but she saw only one with a rider. She saw only Thorin. Dís halted. Cold dread spread through her chest. “Thorin? Where’s Víli?”

When her brother did not reply, she came closer. She could see something large on the pony’s back behind Thorin. “Thorin,” Dís whispered, her voice wavering. “Where is my husband?”

At last, Thorin slowly lifted his head. His mouth moved wordlessly for a few seconds before his voice returned to him, dry and cracking. “I tried, Dís. I tried.”

“No…” Dís could see now what was slung over the back of Thorin’s pony. A battered, broken body. There was dried blood caked in his hair, silver beads now stained. She looked back at Thorin helplessly. “Thorin, I’m… I’m pregnant.”

Her brother’s face fell even further.

“Amad?” Fíli finally caught up with his mother. His blue eyes were round and hopeful. “Where’s Adad?”

Thorin dismounted. The movement jostled the body behind him, and he was too slow to keep it from thudding to the ground. But he was fast enough to move between his sister and his nephew as she crumbled, throwing herself over her fallen husband. He quickly pressed Fíli’s face into his tunic and covered the boy’s ears as she screamed.

And oh, how she screamed. Wordless howls of raw grief. Broken only by gasps for air fueling the next scream.

“Uncle Thorin?” Fíli’s voice was muffled by his uncle’s clothing, stained with his father’s blood. “Uncle Thorin, what’s wrong with Amad? Why is she sad?”

“Not now, little one,” Thorin mumbled. He ushered him back up the hill, turning Fíli’s head when he tried to look back.

“You promised!” Dís’s shrieks echoed off of the hills. “You promised!”

***

The ringing of metal on metal filled Thorin’s ears as he hammered away. Sparks flew with each strike. He paused for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, then plunged the red-hot iron into the barrel at his side to quench it.

“Thorin!”

Thorin looked up to see Dís rushing into the forge. She hiked up her skirt with one hand to avoid the soot and dust on the stone floor, the other supporting her heavy stomach. She was due any day now.

“Thorin, I can’t find Fíli anywhere,” she panted. “I’ve checked all the places I could think of—he’s nowhere to be found.”

Thorin laid the piece he was working on aside and discarded his apron. He ducked out of the heat-choked forge and into the brisk autumn air. “You checked the valley? The creek? The beech copse? You asked the older children?”

“Everything,” Dís insisted. “I’ve searched all afternoon.”

Dying rays of sunlight barely reached over the buildings in their little hamlet. If they were to find Fíli, they had better do it fast. The woods and plains in the foothills of the Blue Mountains were no place for a five-year-old on his own with the autumn chill plunging to a bitter, near-winter cold at night. A frigid breeze was already tugging at Thorin’s hair.

His eyes scanned the landscape, stopping when they reached the crest of a small hill almost a mile from their door. “Dís,” he said quietly. “Are you sure you checked everywhere?”

Hidden on the far side was a crack in the earth that lead to a small cave. And sure enough, Thorin found what he was looking for.

Fíli sat at the entrance, hugging his legs to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. He didn’t acknowledge Thorin; he just kept looking ahead into the cave.

Thorin lowered himself to the ground and sat next to his nephew. “Your mother has been very worried about you.”

“I’m alright. I’m just waiting for Adad.” Fíli pointed into the cave. “He’s busy.” He was shivering.

Thorin sighed. It had been months since he returned with his brother-in-law’s lifeless body. “Your adad was laid to rest. He will never leave this tomb.”

Fíli shook his head vigorously. “Nuh-uh. He’s coming home.”

“Fíli,” Thorin placed a gentle hand on Fíli’s shoulder. “Your father is gone. He is not coming back.”

“No, he’s gonna come back because he promised and he never breaks a promise!” Fíli’s little hands balled up into fists, tears welling up in his eyes. “Leave me alone!”

“He asked me to look after you,” Thorin continued, paying no mind to Fíli’s protests.

“I don’t want you!” Fíli tried to push Thorin away. “I want Adad!”

“Come on.” Thorin stood and easily lifted his nephew, throwing the squirming child over his shoulder like a sack of flour. “It’s not safe for you out here alone.”

Fíli started to sob, hitting Thorin’s back with tiny fists that he barely felt. “No! He’ll come back! He will!” Fíli cried over and over. He kicked his legs in protest, but Thorin only tightened his hold.

Finally, his movements became weaker and his shouts became sniffles and hiccups as he wore himself out. “I hate you,” he whimpered.

Thorin winced. He knew the boy didn’t mean it, but still, it stung.

It was dusk when they returned. Dís stood in the doorway of their little home, hands on her hips and tapping her foot. “Now just what do you think you–”

Thorin silenced her with a look. Not now, he mouthed. He set Fíli on the ground, nudging him inside. “It’s bath night,” he reminded the boy. “Go get ready.”

Fíli gave his uncle a final, tearful glare, and stomped off. Thorin collapsed on the couch.

“Where’d you manage to find him?” Dís joined her brother, laying a hand on his arm.

Thorin didn’t look at her. “Sitting in front of the… the hill.” Something about speaking of cold graves in what was supposed to be a warm home felt wrong. “He still refuses to accept it.” He rubbed his brow with a sigh.

“He’s grieving, the poor lamb. Give him time.” Dís squeezed his arm. “Things were not the same without Frerin for so long. And we were grown by then—Fíli is so little. He scarcely knows what death is.”

Thorin raised his head and stared darkly into the fire. “The way things are going, he’ll need to learn sooner or later. We’ve seen far too many goblins straying close to the mountains. And more elves passing through to the Sea.” Thorin nodded slowly, lost in his own musings. “Something is coming.”

Dís snorted, shaking her head. “You listen to Dwalin’s grumblings too much,” she remarked. “I think we will be alright.” With that, she excused herself and followed the trail left by Fíli’s muddy footprints, muttering about hot water and dirty dwarflings.

Little Fíli poked his head into the living room, sucking his thumb nervously. Thorin sat on the couch, reading by the dimming light of the fire. Fíli padded across the floor and climbed up next to him. Without a word, he snuggled up against Thorin’s side, laying his head on his uncle’s thigh. And equally silently, Thorin put his hand on Fíli’s head, hair still damp from the bath.

“I’m sorry I was mean, Uncle Thorin,” Fíli finally whispered.

Thorin put down his book, looking at his nephew with an expression somehow both pitying and reassuring. “We have all said things we are not proud of,” he said. “I appreciate the apology.”

Fíli nodded and yawned. “But he will come back. I know he will.” He curled up in Thorin’s lap and closed his eyes. “He promised.”

***

“Fíli.”

The blonde dwarfling screwed his eyes shut tighter and wrinkled his nose. He shoved his face into his pillow, trying to ignore his uncle’s voice. He’d been waiting for hours, listening to his mother’s pained cries from the room over, and he had just about had enough.

“Fíli, you are not setting a very good example as a big brother, are you?”

That did it. Fíli’s eyes shot open, and he sat up so quickly that he nearly fell over.

Thorin stood in the doorway, a tired smile on his face. In his arms, he cradled a tiny bundle.

Fíli wiggled with excitement as his uncle approached. Thorin sat on the bed next to him. He gently moved aside the blanket guarding his precious cargo and lowered the bundle so the boy could see.

“Fíli, meet your little brother,” Thorin whispered. “This is Kíli.” He dared not disturb the sleeping newborn too much, vividly remembering how loud and shrill Fíli’s cries had been as a baby.

“Hi Kíli,” Fíli breathed. His blue eyes were wide with awe as he peered at his brother snuggled up inside the blanket. Kíli’s face twitched every so often, small bubbles of spit collecting on his bottom lip. Fíli looked up at Thorin eagerly. “Can I hold him?”

After a moment of hesitation, Thorin nodded. “Be very careful,” he warned as he shifted the baby into Fíli’s arms. “He’s not quite as big and strong as you yet. Hold him close. Support his head, just like that. There you go.”

“He’s so little!” Fíli gently brushed his hand over the fuzz on Kíli’s scalp. Dark-haired, like Dís and Thorin. At his brother’s touch, Kíli began to stir. With a squeak, he opened his eyes.

Fíli gasped. “Uncle Thorin, look! He’s got brown eyes, like…” He trailed off, staring down at the baby in silence for a long time. Kíli blinked curiously up at him with little gurgling noises. When Fíli looked back at his uncle, his eyes shone with tears and his lip quivered. “Adad’s not coming back, is he?”

Thorin’s heart cracked—but there was relief, too. He’s finally come to accept it. “No, little one. He’s not.”

Fíli’s face crumpled. He buried his face in Thorin’s side and began to cry. Disturbed by the noise, Kíli let out a few whimpers of his own before starting to wail.

Thorin put his arm around Fíli’s shoulders, saying nothing.

“For Mahal’s sake, Thorin, what did you do to make both of them cry?” Dís leaned against the doorframe, still weary from labor and nursing her newborn. But her tired glare softened when she saw the look on Thorin’s face, the way he held Fíli against his side.

“I should take him back,” Dís sighed, crossing the room and prying Kíli from Fíli’s arms. “Hush, wee one,” she murmured, rocking him as she left and starting to hum a lullaby.

Thorin shifted on the bed to face Fíli. His large, calloused palms swallowed up Fíli’s tiny hands. “Fíli.”

The little dwarf sniffled and looked up at his uncle, tears still streaming from his eyes.

Thorin wiped Fíli’s cheeks with his sleeve. “I have something very important that I need you to do.”

“What is it?” Fíli tilted his head to the side like a puppy, his sadness momentarily replaced with curiosity.

“Look after your little brother. Promise me, no matter what, you will always look after him.”

Fíli nodded solemnly. “I promise.”

***

Kíli was losing. He ducked under Fíli’s swing, barely managing to block him. “Just wait till we do target practice,” he muttered as he pivoted away from Fíli’s next attack. “I’ll show you.” His wooden sword clacked against Fíli’s when he went on the offensive, trying to reclaim the ground he’d lost.

“Archery is for elves,” Fíli scoffed.

“You only say that because you’re no good at it!”

Up the hill, their uncle and mother watched, leaning against the side of the cottage.

“We’ve raised two fine boys,” Thorin mused, sharp eyes following the brothers as they sparred with blades and words.

“They’re only in their twenties, Thorin. Hardly more than striplings,” Dís reminded him with a smile and a nudge. “We’ve still a while to go.”

“We are raising two fine boys,” he amended his statement. Thorin rested his arm around his sister’s shoulders. He fidgeted with her sleeve, fingers plucking at the fabric.

Dís glanced up at him, eyebrow cocked. Though his eyes were still fixed on Fíli and Kíli, she could tell he was not entirely there. So she waited patiently for him to let her into his thoughts.

“I want them to be my heirs,” Thorin said abruptly.

“What?”

He did not look at her. Instead, he turned and went inside, still deep in his own mind. “Fíli would be the crown prince, of course, as the elder brother.”

“Heirs? Crown prince? Thorin, what are you talking about?” Dís followed, kicking the door shut behind her.

“I want them as my heirs. I want Fíli to rule after me once we have retaken Erebor.”

Dís’s eyes narrowed. “Erebor is lost, Thorin. This is our life, not kingdoms and crowns.” She waved her arm toward the window.

“It is not yet lost, not while I still have breath in me,” Thorin insisted. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms.

The familiar Durin temper flared to life in both brother and sister. “You want to die like Father?” Dís hissed. “Fighting for a home that is long gone? Or burned alive like Mother?”

Thorin whirled around to face her. His blue eyes flashed. “Father is not dead,” he spat. “Víli and I found signs of him down south–” He snapped his mouth shut when he realized what he’d done.

“South?” Dís’s voice was dangerously low. Her eyes grew even narrower. “You have not been south since…”

Thorin tried to turn away, but Dís grabbed his wrist with a crushing grip.

“There never were any orcs, were there? Did Víli know?!” she demanded. “Did he know he was going off to die for your stupid wishful thinking?”

“You think I would lie to him?”

“You lied to me!”

“Of course he knew!” Thorin ripped his arm away. “I will speak no more of this.”

“Do not walk away from me, Thorin Oakenshield.” She said the name with a mocking sneer. “Look at me, you coward.”

Thorin halted, his shoulders tight. His eyes were stormy, flashing with lightning when he looked back. “You were a child—you do not remember it the way I do,” he rumbled, his voice the thunder to the storm in his eyes. “I will reclaim what is rightfully ours, and I want Fíli and Kíli at my side when I do.”

“So you’ll take my boys from me the same way you took my husband?” Hot, angry tears filled her eyes.

“They are my boys, too,” Thorin shot back. “I’d sooner die than watch them live their lives in poverty and servitude.”

“Is peace not enough for you?”

“It will never be enough,” he snarled. “Not while that beast still–”

“Uncle Thorin?” Kili’s voice broke into their argument. He stood in the doorway, holding up his thin sword, snapped neatly in two. “I think I lost. Do you know if Bifur or Bofur have made any more training blades?”

Dís clenched her jaw, turning her face away until she could control her voice. “I’m sure they will be happy to make you a new one,” she answered, forcing brightness into her tone. “Why don’t you go ask them? Dinner should be ready by the time you return. Don’t be out too long.”

Kíli’s face lit up. “Yes, Amad!” He tossed the broken sword into the fireplace and dashed from the cottage, leaving his mother and uncle in silence once more.

“This is not finished,” Dís muttered. While Thorin’s eyes were dark and stormy, hers were bright and fiery with an anger that made her hands shake. “Get out of my sight.”

But Dís knew the day would come, and she dreaded it. While others became excited when they heard the dragon had not been seen for years, it only tightened the knot in her stomach. Her sons, however, couldn’t be more eager as they bustled around the cottage, packing their rucksacks and sharpening their weapons.

“D’you think I can fit another knife somewhere?” Fíli asked his brother, twisting around to inspect his coat.

“Sure,” Kíli replied. He slung his quiver over his shoulder with a lazy grin. “Up your ass.”

”Language, Kíli,” Dís scolded.

Kíli repeated his answer in Khuzdûl instead.

Fíli laughed, shaking his head. “Come on, Kee. If we leave now, we should have a good head start on Thorin. Shouldn’t take us more than a week to reach this burglar’s house.” He made for the door, but his mother stopped him.

Her hands trembled as she double-checked the buckles and ties on his clothes. “So much like your father,” Dís said with a sad smile. “He could never wait to get on the road.”

Fíli struggled to remember his father’s face, now just a blurry memory almost eighty years old. Visions of Thorin overpowered those of Víli—dark hair instead of gold, blue eyes instead of brown.

Dís stood on her toes to wrap her son in a tight embrace. The lump in her throat threatened to choke her. “Come back to me,” she whispered in his ear. Their parting felt all too familiar. “Promise me, you will come home.”

“I will take back our home,” Fíli corrected her softly. He drew back and gave his mother a comforting smile. “You will walk the halls of Erebor again. I promise.”

***

It was that promise to his mother that drove Fíli onwards, that kept him from despair in the Elvenking’s dungeon, that kept him anchored as his uncle began to spiral into the same madness that claimed Thorin’s grandfather.

It was his long-ago promise to Thorin that kept Fíli’s eyes on his brother, that kept him close to his side, that stopped Kíli from following him as he combed the upper levels on the Ravenhill.

It was why his last words were a warning, a desperate plea for his uncle and brother’s safety.

And it was that promise to his mother that he thought of as the blade ripped through his back.

His last breath gurgled in his throat as he choked on his own blood. His vision blurred, head dropping to his chest as darkness fell. Fíli was dead before he hit the ground in front of his baby brother.

He was so much like his father, wasn’t he?

Promises made.

Promises broken.

#fanfiction #Fíli #Kíli #BABY Fíli and Kíli #thorin oakenshield #dís #lady dis #Fíli and Kíli’s father #canon compliant #someone please give Dís a hug #she’s so tired #the hobbit #Fíli and Kíli #uncle thorin #big brother Fíli

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