Chapter Text
Fíli was at a complete loss. It was one thing that, for all his good intentions, he got literal crap all over his saddle, but nothing came even close to how mortified he felt when he realized he. Hadn’t. Apologized.
“Now we’re even,” the princess said, and he had far too little time to think of a reply before it dawned on him in all its embarrassing glory that he was yet to say what he’d come there to say. He wanted to run after her then and there, but she was gone before he even turned to follow and was stopped by Ora’s insistent neighing that he was not about to leave her in the middle of the stables, with a saddle on and stinking of bird stool. So he stayed and hurried to clean her and the saddle up to the best of his abilities before anyone could catch him in the act.
Even that turned out to be wishful thinking.
“Hey, Fíli,” Bilbo said, leaning over the door of Ora’s stall. “You alright?”
“Yes, of course,” Fíli said, hopefully not too quickly. “Right as a bird.” Honestly. Why did everything seem to rotate around birds that day?
“Really? Because I just spoke to Y/N and she seemed rather upset for some reason. Did she not take your apology well?”
Fíli stayed quiet.
“You did apologize to her, right?”
He stayed quiet some more.
“Fíli!”
“I know, I know! It doesn’t look very good but…please don’t tell Uncle.”
“That depends. Mind telling me why you didn’t apologize before I make that decision?”
“Alright. Well, the thing is I wanted to apologize, but she...,” Fíli trailed off because he couldn’t for the love of gods put together the main reason why indeed the apology had not left his mouth that day.
Bilbo eyed him with something akin to disappointment and although Fíli hated to see it in pretty much everyone’s eyes when it came to him, he had far little time to let it sink in when Bilbo’s scowl turned to a look of contemplation that against all odds morphed into a smile. “She caught you off guard, didn’t she?” he asked.
Now it was Fíli’s turn to gawp. “Something like that. How did you know?”
“Lucky guess. That and she happened to almost shoot me once, so.”
“She did what?!”
“She didn’t, alright? Besides, it was my fault. I sneaked up on her in the woods and I think she just wanted to teach me a lesson not to try it again.”
Fíli didn’t know why, but against his better judgment, he grinned. “Does my uncle know?”
Bilbo was very much unimpressed. “As a matter of fact, yes. And he also happens to know about the months I spent on the road with her and that, at the end of the day, I would always vouch for her. So… what did she do to you?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t really know what I did wrong. She just shouted at me for scaring the birds away and called me a buffoon. I mean, who does that?”
“Now hang on, she called you a buffoon even though she knew who you were?”
“Well, no, she didn’t look at me at first, but when she did, it was like—like that thing from before didn’t happen at all.”
“You mean the thing with the birds and the shouting?”
“Yes! Aside from the fact that she apologized to me for it.”
“And throughout it all, it didn’t occur to you that you’d come there to apologize as well?” Bilbo asked and chuckled when Fíli just helplessly shrugged at him. "You are Thorin's nephew, that's for certain."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," Bilbo said and grinned when Fíli glared at him. "Nothing other than the fact that I have absolute faith that you'll come up with the right apology the next time you see her. If it's not to give any of us peace of mind, then for Ora's sake. We wouldn’t want to see her go through a similar ordeal now, would we?"
As if on cue, Ora scoffed and bumped into Fíli’s arm with her head. It was both a show of affection and a warning. He knew her far too well not to heed it.
"I won't mention it either,” Bilbo said next. “To anyone, but I presume Thorin and Kíli are a priority?"
"And my mother."
"My lips are sealed."
"Thanks, Bilbo." He meant to say more, but his mind was stuck in the dilemma of where to go from here. There was not a single faculty within him that desired to go and seek out the princess even if he knew it was more than just due at that point. All of a sudden, cleaning his saddle from bird shit did not seem like such a nuisance because unlike dealing with the princess, it was actually simple.
She was anything but simple. She was reckless and, despite the serious upfront she put on, impulsive. Her priorities and principles made zero sense to him. She didn’t believe in what they had done here, what they had sacrificed in order to call this place their home again, and her respect for what they were doing right now was most likely non-existent. Were it not the case, wouldn’t she have brought more from her kingdom to truly help them get back on their feet? Wouldn’t she care more about the going-ons inside the Mountain? Or was it simply because her kingdom did not have more to offer? If that were the case, in what way were they possibly going to benefit from this match?
Either way, he was at a complete loss at what to make of her and instead of being excited about the notion, he felt dread any time he remembered she was now part of his life, and he could not for the life of him figure out why Bilbo, Bofur, and Óin liked her so much
"You know," Bilbo said and Fíli realized he was yet to get to work. "you don't have to marry her if you don't want to."
Fíli frowned. It wasn't about having to marry her. It was about having to marry her.
"In fact, you don't have to marry at all. I know there are all kinds of pressure on you right now, but it can wait."
"I know, but it's just... Erebor needs to get back on its feet. I want to help."
"You are helping, Fíli. More than you know. Just by—"
"Breathing in general, yeah, I know, and don't get me wrong, I am very happy to be doing that, but I see how much my uncle and mother are doing, how much you're doing, and the Company and... as a crown prince, I'm always part of the council meetings and I never know what to say. There's only so much of it I can take before it occurs to me that I might not be doing anything at all. Everyone's doing their part. If forming an alliance through marriage is mine, then I will see it done. Besides, I don’t have a One, so I’m more than suited for it.”
“How do you know you don’t have a One?”
“There’s this thing called the Longing… Uncle didn’t tell you?”
“No, he did. It’s just that from the way he spoke about it, I figured it was more complicated as in that it didn’t have to manifest right away. Balin told me there were cases when the dwarves realized fairly late in their lives, only after they met the person. It could be your case as well.”
Oh, how he wished that were true. That he could wake up from every day’s slumber and indulge in the thoughts of having that one person who stood out in any sort of crowd. Wouldn't it be just the perfect respite from all those times he'd had to wake up from nightmares of him and Kíli and Uncle not making it out of the battle alive? Or that sort of distraction from his princely duties that no one would scold him for? He had eyes, of course, that it had occurred to him once or twice that it would be nice to have what Kíli had with Tauriel or what Uncle had with Bilbo, but as it was, no one had ever made him look twice, and consider something more, he'd never felt drawn to another person in the way he knew he was supposed to feel and the idea of marrying for the good of Erebor didn't have him reeling. Kíli would never stand for it and Thorin would rather spend the rest of his days alone if he couldn't have Bilbo. Fíli had no such dilemma, his heart beat simply because it was keeping him alive and he was just thankful it still had the ability. So, whoever Uncle and his mother chose, he would marry. He just couldn't understand why they hadn't explicitly done so already and why it seemed that their choice lied with, in his eyes, the least prosperous marriage in sight, but he couldn't ask Bilbo that.
"I don't need a One," he said. "But Erebor needs all the help it can get."
"Even if it has to come at the cost of your heart? I don't think you realize what you're in for when it comes to arranged marriages. You don't owe us anything."
"Come on, Bilbo, I'm sure it's not as bad as you make it sound. Me and my future wife, whoever she turns out to be, we are both adults. We'll figure it out somehow."
"Are you sure? I don't want to see you having to clean your saddle like this for the rest of all eternity."
"And you won't," Fíli said and smiled and although there was still a very prominent frown on Bilbo's face, he left him to clean his saddle in peace right after.
The problem was that you were left far too often to wallow in your own thoughts. Had you been home, you would have spent this time in the woods or by perusing the lands of the hobbits or addressing the problems of the common folk neither your parents nor your brother had spare time to address. But you were not home. You had nowhere to escape. The number of people you could lean on was nowhere near being as big. Your parents were not there, trying to make you see the good in all that had gone wrong and worse in your life. There was no magic you could yield that would make the prince forget your second meeting as there wasn’t any to make you forget the first.
And as much as there were Bilbo, Bofur, Óin, and the king and the princess treated you with nothing but utmost kindness, it still felt like you were trying to climb a large tree, and each branch you reached for, crumbled into dust under your touch. You never missed your parents more, and the idea that the others who were in a similar situation as you were seemed to handle it a lot better than you was paralyzing beyond what words could say, making it all that much harder for you to believe that promising not to wander too far outside the mountain was good for you. But you made that promise and at least tried to brace yourself for the consequences.
As it was, your head had nothing else to focus on and there was only so much time you could waste trying to read at least one page in a book properly before anything you did, provided the total opposite of the respite you sought. You were all too eager to stand up and go in search of the kitchens where Bofur had asked you to have lunch with him and a few others the previous day. Now, you definitely had been there—or at least in the near area of it, when you’d requested to have something small to chase the hunger away before retiring for the night—but how little that actually meant in the only other mountain you had ever been in beside your own which had nothing on the grand scale and sheer size of the Lonely Mountain that seemed larger the longer you stayed there. Life had taught you to be able to read your surroundings if you’d ever needed it and although you remembered something, your hands trembled, you felt nervous for every whipping turn of your head you did in search of the right directions, and you had no idea whether you wished more to be left alone to your own devices or for anyone passing by and seeing how hopeless you were to finally approach you and help.
In the end, you grew tired of the charade your own brain was playing on you and you approached the first dwarf you saw. Judging by the plate armor and an axe on his back, you surmised he was part of some stationed guard—though he wasn’t wearing the blue and silver of the house of Durin and he and his comrades were definitely not one of your own—but you approached him anyway and sheepishly asked for the directions. He eyed you at first and upon realizing who you were, he surprisingly bowed his head and told you where to go without much of a preamble. You noticed that the other two guards narrowed their eyes at him but didn’t say anything to dispute his words, so you thanked him and marched off in the direction he pointed you to.
And it worked for a little while. Now that you had something to go on, the feeling of being lost evaporated into thin air as if it had never been there and you walked with a confidence that finally put an end to everyone’s staring. However, it was a bit baffling when the further you ventured, the less familiar everything seemed to you—and even if you were on completely new territory, surely your awareness from the previous day couldn’t have been so flawed—but you kept on walking and didn’t stop until it was not servants who were passing you by, but dwarves with aprons and their hair and clothes littered with dirt and sweat. Their staring was as far from being subtle as you’d ever seen it. Their eyes went wide, some of them even hastily bowed to you and then went on in a state of clear bewilderment despite the fact they’d seemed to have been in such a hurry mere seconds ago.
Then, as to make matters worse, you stumbled into one of them, throwing the last semblance of pretense that you had things under control out of the window. The apology was there, on your tongue, and then it wasn’t when the dwarf addressed you partly in Common, partly in Khuzdul, using your name without the title to stand in the way. He said his name was Bifur and your legs almost buckled from under you when you recognized the name from the time Bofur spoke of his cousin who not so long ago could speak nothing but Khuzdul because of an axe stuck in his head. There was certainly not one there now which might have been why the Common kept getting through. It should have been comforting that you’d stumbled upon a friend, but in all honesty, you wanted to flee and if you had any idea where to, you would have bolted right then and there.
This feeling didn’t cease as Bifur asked you what in Mahal’s name you were doing in the lower wards that led to the mines. He didn’t seem angry, just agitated, most likely because having a princess of a foreign kingdom traversing through hallways that were under heavy reparations after the dragon’s attack was so not part of his workload for the day, especially since the said princess was the royal guest of the king himself. You told him you were looking for the kitchens because you had been invited to lunch with him, Bofur, and Bombur—if your memory served you well—and your whole world died just a little when Bifur told you the kitchens were almost on completely another side of the mountain. You were no fool. About halfway through, it had occurred to you that the dwarf from before might have led you astray on purpose, but you tried to believe things were different when so many times in your life cynicism had turned out not to be the right approach, but it seemed even that was different in Erebor, the kingdom that kept on insisting so vehemently that it was not your home you started wondering whether that would ever change.
You didn’t tell Bifur about the dwarf. You already felt bad to your very core. Let everyone think you had a terrible sense of direction even if it wasn’t true. It was better than everyone knowing you were so easily fooled and compromised and as much as you believed Bifur meant well with his questions and eyes searching for the truth of the matter, you knew your words would not stay between the two of you for long, so you kept your silence even if everything inside you raged in protest.
When he finally let the matter be, he said he would take you to the kitchens—as he was naturally heading there himself—but stopped when he noticed how you deflated at the mention of a lunch that had been the uprooting cause of this whole fiasco. Of course, it wasn’t on Bifur in any way, he was being a friend you desperately needed but found unable to appreciate when you were now barely holding the tears at bay. There was no helping it. You were embarrassed in a way you’d never experienced. Facing Bifur—someone you’d just met—was hard enough, and when you thought about facing anyone else, your stomach turned into knots upon knots, making it impossible to feel hungry or even capable of getting anything into your system.
Bifur didn’t fight you when you said no and surprisingly didn’t lie when you explained you weren’t hungry. Instead, he offered to escort you back to your quarters. You had little say in the wince that went through your body and the blush that took over your whole face at the words and, most of all, at the infuriating fact that you clearly needed the help, that you were no good at keeping to yourself, that you could not handle anything on your own. You despised the idea with the sheer force of your being—you, who might have been of royal descent, but had been faithfully taught to fight, to cook, to know the good herbs and berries from the poisonous ones, to sow clothes just as much as living, bleeding flesh, and to generally survive—it was unthinkable that you seemed to have fallen short on something so trivial as finding your way in the Lonely Mountain. So even this time, you said no because you’d had enough of embarrassment for the day, and you were tired of acting detached and as if you were above things when you were anything but.
You hadn’t lasted even a day. A fact that probably surprised no one.
With a voice small and breath hitched, you reassured Bifur you would be all right and when he grew quiet, you thanked him in Khuzdul and turned away to walk in the direction you’d come in. You found the way back to your quarters without a problem. It only served to infuriate you further.
Overall, he was fairly calm about everything when he came to escort her to dinner that evening. It wasn’t his idea. His mother had come up with it and said that it could be the hammer that would help to break the ice. Fíli thought to himself then that it would have to be one large hammer, but it did not seem like his mother was aware of why exactly everything was so fragile regarding where he and the princess stood and so Fíli didn’t fight her and headed to look for the princess out of his own volition. Then he was stopped by one of her guards that had been stationed near her quarters and all went downhill from there. They told him where she’d gone—he didn’t have to wonder on his own anymore—but it provided no comfort. Quite the opposite, actually.
Rebuilding the front gate had been one of the first orders Thorin had issued. As much as proclaiming that the door was always open was a huge gesture, all things considered, it didn't mean as much when there was actually no door to speak of, which was exactly the kind of irony Bofur couldn't help but dwell on. He got a glare for that and was positioned to be in charge of the reparations and his smile was seen no more. As it turned out, none of them were very happy to spend their time by that gate—particularly on the ramparts—longer than was necessary. For Fíli, the place brought out too many memories he would rather forget if he could. Memories of explanations that were shouted in vain, of the inner struggle to say something while having absolutely no idea what would help, of foolishly letting himself believe that things could not have been possibly that severe, and of fear that followed right after. Fear, unlike anything he’d ever felt when he was forced to watch what had become of his uncle and didn’t have the slightest clue how to fix it. He presumed the other members had similar reasons to avoid that place. Especially, Thorin and Bilbo.
But despite what had happened, the front gate had been restored, and it was thanks to both the dwarves and Bard’s men. And as a standing symbol of both their peoples and their allegiance, that was fragile but still there, all the memories became at least slightly easier to bear. But Fíli still did his best to avoid them if he could. No such luck today, because that was exactly where her guards had advised him to go and there he was, eyes falling on her almost instantly. There were watchful guards nearby, but they retreated enough to give her a sense of privacy. She wore a green dress—the very shade that reminded him of her eyes—and was yet to notice him, as she kept staring into the distance. There was something almost peaceful about her which made him reluctant to disrupt it, but it couldn’t be helped. He came here with a purpose after all.
When she heard him coming, she whipped her head to look at him and there was something, a very brief moment during which she looked scared, like a spooked animal, and before the mortifying realization that she might be scared of him truly sank in, she schooled her expression into something more neutral and turned to look at him. “Your Highness.”
Everyone would say she’d said it rather coldly, but Fíli couldn’t help but feel that she’d said it somewhat pompously and with a very derisive tone.
“How may I be of service to you?"
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
"Why not? Is there an ambush about to happen I should know about?"
"You could fall."
"I could fall," she repeated slowly and looked over the battlements which made the bad memories of this place all the more tangible and Fíli moved on instinct, reaching for her arm and gently pulling her away from the edge. She swatted his hand away and glared at him with so much ferocity it felt like a slap on his face, but she followed him all the same even though she looked as if doing so brought her immense pain. "Oh, please! This is ridiculous. Seriously. I could fall. So could anyone here and you're not treating them as if they just been born! You could fall on all that steel you've got under your coat, and you don't see anyone watching your every step."
"How do you—"
"My people are weavers, and I have eyes! They are quite helpful for determining how far I can go before I would meet my inevitable end. To fall from here, I would have to jump. Very. High. I would need a reason to do that, which I do not, but I would lie if I said your presence is not making it tempting."
"Well, that makes two of us!"
"Yes, you've hinted as much!”
They both went quiet, while on the inside, he felt like something was about to burst. He had no illusions that the gate's watch was keeping themselves out of this and minding their own business, but at the same time, he was inclined far too little to let that change how he acted and what came out of his mouth. Even if he returned from the ramparts with his throat completely sore, it mattered not, because he just couldn’t understand her.
"What do you mean?" he asked, and she narrowed her eyes at him and mumbled several words in Khuzdul, most of which he failed to pick up, but he was pretty sure the words "fool" and "unbelievable" were spoken and were perfectly enough to rattle him to the point he really considered walking away and not looking back. "What are you talking about?" he asked her instead. "I've tried to be nothing but polite. You're the one who keeps shouting at me and calling me names any chance you get. That's not reaching out."
"And treating me like I'm a flower about to be stepped on is? Don't go outside the mountain, don't stick around here. What's next? You'll appoint guards to watch my every step? I'm no different than the rest of your guests and yet I'd wager you don't go around telling them where they should or shouldn't go."
"Well, maybe that's because they know best where it's safe to go and where not to. Maybe they just happen to appreciate being here, in the kingdom that had been usurped by a dragon and remained his for decades. Maybe they see Erebor for what it truly is and do not try to escape it."
"An insight that is beyond commendable."
"What is your problem? You're the royal guest of our king. Do you have any idea what most dwarves would do to receive such an honor? Let alone someone like you—"
“Yes, someone like me. That’s just it, isn’t it?” she asked, but before he could question it, she finally wavered and blinked multiple times before looking away. He had no idea what about his words seemed to have finally reached her, but the victory was short-lived, for she turned to him again and regarded him just as coldly. "I do not seek to know your reasoning. You shouldn't seek to know mine."
"Why did you come here, then?" he asked because while backing away might have been the right thing to do, it also felt incredibly wrong to him. "Why, when it seems to bring nothing but great grievance to you?"
"Maybe I expected this all to go differently."
"In what way?"
She flailed with her hands in clear desperation. "Well, I definitely didn't expect to be puked on the first night, that's for sure!"
And as much as so many things had felt like a slap on his face before, nothing came close to what he was feeling right in that moment as the realization that he’d failed so utterly yet again sank in. A punch in the gut would be more merciful. Thorin would have every right to throttle him and at this point, Fíli would join him if he could.
Because it was no longer just about the immense shame that seemed to come upon him in waves. She was hurt. He could see it in the way she was blinking rapidly and resolutely not looking at him, and although some part of him felt it odd she would react thusly to something that in no way had anything to do with what she could have altered or done differently and was just the result of him being a fool, he knew he had no right to question her about it and denying her what was rightfully hers—an apology, as honest as his heart begged him to voice it—was unthinkable.
“You said dinner is about to be served,” she said after taking a deep breath. “We should linger no more.”
“Wait,” he said when he saw her walking away and felt immense relief when she remained where she was at the word. She didn’t turn around to face him again, but she was still there. “I’m sorry.”
“S—sorry, Your Highness?”
“For… giving you that sort of welcome. No one should be treated like that. It might have been accidental, but that’s no excuse.”
She regarded him in silence, eyes assessing and somewhat distant at the same time. She didn’t lose the sadness in them. Her shoulders were slouched in a way he’d never seen them—she no longer cared about being proper—and before he could add more to his apology because he wanted, he needed her to believe that he’d meant it, she straightened herself up. “Thank you.”
It wasn’t forgiveness or even coming close to it and he just wanted her to explain to him why—it couldn’t be just about the puking because that was ridiculous—but he never got to voice any of this because she walked away before he could even open his mouth and that alone felt like another punch in his gut, and he was far too tired to question any of it. So he rushed out to catch up with her, ignoring all the stares that seemed to cling to him, and escorted her to the dining hall in utter silence.