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The trip to Bree and back to the Blue Mountains had been uneventful; Kíli had been part of a guard of a merchant trek but no danger had presented itself. He had delivered them safely to their small town at the foot at the mountains the day before. The trip on his own up the mountain towards home had been leisurely. One of Kíli’s favourite bits about travelling was coming home.
After hanging up his bow and quiver on the designated hooks on the wall, he put his bag on the table in the main room of of their hut, which served as kitchen and living area. As expected, nobody was home. His mother and Thorin had actually been part of the trek up to Bree, where they would stay a while longer to meet with dwarves from the Iron Hills and the small dwarf community that had settled just outside Bree. Fíli was apprenticed to the local human blacksmith.
Kíli let out a deep sigh and sat down on the bench next to the cold fireplace, massaging his calves. The decent thing to do would be to start cooking, so there would be a meal ready to greet Fíli. But he had walked almost the entire day and felt he deserved the rest.
He got a nice fire going in the fireplace and soon enough, he was able to divest himself of his heavy coat. The heat warmed up his tired limbs and after he got himself a nice tankard of ale, he felt much better.
It was not long before the door creaked open. Kíli started smiling and jumped up to greet his brother, but the smile died on his lips. Fili looked a mess: split lip, one arm wrapped protectively around his ribs, the way he carefully balanced his weight on his left foot told Kíli that something was quite possibly broken. Still, as he stood in the door of their hut, he looked defiantly at Kíli, “Welcome home.”
Kíli took two quick strides towards him. “Let’s get you to Oin.”
“No.” Fili’s voice was mangled. “He’ll tell Uncle.”
Kíli sighed. In Fíli’s current state, it would be no problem to force him. But he did not want to fight with his brother the moment he got home. “All right. Let me help you to your bed.”
“I’ll manage. You need rest.”
“Don’t be silly. Come on, put your arm around my shoulder.”
Fíli complied and hobbled through the hut with Kíli’s aid, wincing with every step. How he even made it this far escaped Kíli. He kicked the door open to the little room he shared with his brother. It wobbled in its hinges and Kíli made a mental note to fix it while he was home.
It took a while to manoeuvre both of them in the narrow space between their two beds. And then the process of sitting down on the bed was very slow and deliberate for Fíli. Finally, he was resting against the headboard, his breathing coming in short gasps.
Kíli let out a long breath as well. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Fíli did not respond, so Kíli went to fetch a sponge, some warm water, ointment and bandages. As he was dabbing away the blood from Fíli’s face he asked: “Are you going to tell me what happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Nothing important.” Fíli winced.
“Was it that bastard smith?”
Fíli did not respond to the question. So it was that bastard.
“You’ve got to quit before he kills you.”
“Never!” Fíli sat up, and gasped in pain. “Never,” he wheezed. “I am not going to quit, Kíli!”
“What are you learning there apart from how to be beaten up? Dwalin will do that for you without seriously injuring you.”
Fíli glared at him in the twilight. “I have a contract as an apprentice with this smith for a year. I will not embarrass Thorin and our clan by not honouring my obligation. I will endure. That is what dwarves do.”
Kíli glared back. “Stupid dwarves.”
Fíli settled back into the bed. “Real dwarves. Mahal created us to be the hardiest creatures on Middle Earth. And the most steadfast. If a dwarf’s word is worth nothing, what do we have?”
“So I’m not a real dwarf then.” It stung more when the implication came from Fíli.
Fíli looked away. “I did not say that.”
“I would quit though.”
“No. You’re just as stubborn as me.”
They were both too tired for this. “Rest now. Even real dwarves need that, right?” Fíli looked at him as if he wanted to say something, but then sighed and turned his head away and closed his eyes.
Back in the main living area, Kíli started aggressively cleaning the pot. It had not seen a good scrub in a while and he was too agitated to sit at the fireplace now. Kíli had been against Fíli’s apprenticeship to the human smith from the beginning. He had more dealings with the humans of the village than other dwarves, and he knew that smith’s reputation for being vicious, particularly when drunk. And he was usually drunk by midday. There were reasons why he, the most racist of all the villagers, had taken a dwarf as apprentice. And there were reasons other than the fire hazard that the smithy was outside the village. Thorin’s objection had been that no human smith could teach his nephew what dwarves did not already know. Balin and Fíli’s argument had been that they needed better relations with the humans of the area. All the Longbeards had was a crumbling old mine that had been abandoned by the Broadbeams and that they had renamed Thorin’s halls and dwarven stubbornness combined with Thorin’s natural charm (or lack thereof).
Kíli had nearly screamed at everyone at this point in the conversation. He had been cultivated ties with the humans in the next village ever since he was old enough to run through the forest. As a child he just loved having more playmates. And later, when those playmates grew up quicker than him, he played with their younger siblings and cousins. By now, he had ties to everyone in the village. That was why he knew that going through the blacksmith was the worst possible idea. But no, Fíli had to take the man’s offer.
He had started four months earlier and this was not the first time Fíli had returned bruised. Kíli had worried about his brother during the entire trek and his worries were obviously not unfounded.
Kíli walked to the back of the hut and slowly opened the door to look towards the bed where Fíli was shifting, trying to find a comfortable position. It had darkened even further, but Kíli had even better night vision than the average dwarf. His brother was in pain.
Kíli swallowed his hurt feelings for the moment.
“Let me look at that foot.”
“It’s okay.”
Kíli raised his eyebrows. “I may not be a real dwarf, brother, but do you really want to test who’s more stubborn right now? I’m going to look at that foot. Try and stop me.”
“You’re a real dwarf,” Fíli muttered.
“Thank you.” Kíli knelt next to Fíli’s feet. “Taking the boots off may be painful.”
“Fine.” Fíli gritted his teeth in anticipation, and although he shuddered and winced as Kíli worked the boot loose, no sound came over his bruised lips.
In the light of the candle, Kíli did not need Oin’s second opinion to assess the damage. Fíli had broken two of the bones in his foot. At least it was not the ankle.
“Your foot will be fine. If you rest it.”
“I can’t.”
Kíli glared at Fíli. “You may have an obligation to that human smith. But you also have an obligation to your people. You will never properly walk again if you go to the smithy in this state. The bones will grow together all wrong. You won’t be much of a warrior then.”
The anguished look in Fíli’s face made Kíli want to shake his brother. Only Thorin could beat himself up more for things that were beyond his control. “I will tell that bastard tomorrow. For now, I’ll bandage that foot and then we eat. It is getting very late.”
One of the things he had learned as a guard on treks was first aid. It happened occasionally that a merchant’s foot was crushed by a wheel or a horse’s hoof or that somebody twisted their ankle on the road. He was still determined to get Oin to eventually look at Fíli, but for now he was able to splint the fracture and bandage it securely.
Dinner was just bread with some carrot salad and cold cuts. Fíli struggled to eat it, but persevered. Kíli prepared a generous tankard of hot whiskey with honey for Fíli to help him sleep and dull the pain.
It took a second tankard to make Fíli drowsy. His eyelids were drooping over those blue eyes, and as Kíli looked at him, a mild smile played around his lips.
“You’re the best. I missed you.”
Kíli laughed and patted Fíli’s head as if they’re were still dwarflings. “I know. Get some rest now.”
“You really are.” Fíli patted Kíli’s arm. Kíli chuckled and tucked his brother in.
Kíli then settled down on his own bed, little more than a bag of straw over some some planks. They creaked every time he shifted. After weeks on the road and an evening caring for his stubborn brother, his bed was the best thing ever.
“Good night brother. Wake me if you need anything.”
The next morning, Kíli helped Fíli to their outhouse to relieve himself, and then cooked them some hearty porridge.
When Fíli looked towards his boots, Kíli got up and put them away in a chest. “Do not even think about it. You’re staying at home. I’ll get Freya or Gimli to look in on you today, I need to go to the village of men.”
Fíli glared weakly at him. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Of course, beating up the smith had been at the forefront of Kíli’s mind, but he was not THAT stupid and impulsive. So, he rolled his eyes, “I will tell that bastard that you’re not coming back until you’re healed. And I need to look in on Gritt anyway.”
“All right.”
Kíli got the cushion and blanket from Fíli’s bed to make him comfortable next to the fireplace, where he kept a low fire burning. He did not like to leave his brother alone, but he had promised. And, as Fíli had said, if a dwarf’s word was worth nothing, what did they have left?
The path to the village of men led through a thick pine forest that was shaded even now, in winter. Ice crunched under Kíli’s boots as he made his way down. He met a small group of dwarves cutting logs on their part of the forest and, further down, a group of men doing the same. Everyone greeted Kíli cheerfully enough. Just before he reached the village of men, he took the little path to the East, towards the smithy.
The forge was already on, the smith pumping it fiercely. When he heard Kíli’s approach he turned around and glared, “You’re the wrong midget.”
Kíli ground his teeth. “My brother won’t be able to come back for a few days. His foot is broken.”
“I won’t pay for him laying around being lazy.” The man spat on the ground.
“Nobody asked you to. He’ll be back once his foot healed.”
“So much for the toughness of dwarves.”
Only fear of Thorin stopped Kíli from pushing the man into the fire of the forge. Instead, he turned around without another word and walked towards the village.
Gritt’s hut was on the outskirts of the village, but well kept. Gritt was a woman who in old age was smaller even than Kíli. She stood in her doorway, smiling broadly at Kíli. He touched her forehead to his, in a dwarven greeting.
“You should not stand out in the cold waiting for me.”
“I have not been here long,” she claimed, but her cold cheeks and red nose told a different story. “Come in, dear, I got fresh bread for you. And honey.”
“You shouldn’t spoil me!” Kíli protested, but he knew all his efforts to refuse the food would be in vain.
“Come, come, this is the only payment you will take from me.”
Gritt was the mother of one of Kíli’s childhood friends. Being human, his friend had rapidly surpassed him in maturity and had died in childbirth while Kíli was still considered a child by dwarves. After the death of her and her newborn child, her husband had gone to Bree, as had Gritt’s son. The husband had remarried there, and occasionally sent a present with Kíli to his former mother-in-law. Kíli had never been able to find Gritt’s son in Bree; nobody seemed to know him. So Kíli had taken it upon himself to help Gritt around the house and her garden.
As he did justice to the thick slice of toasted bread with honey, Gritt sat down next to him and took up her knitting. “I heard about what happened to your brother.”
Kíli put the bread down to the plate and glared at it as if it was the smith, but did not answer.
“I hope he is not too badly injured? Farmer Aarne said the beating would well have killed a man.”
“I doubt it’s that bad,” Kíli conceded. “But he’s in bad shape. He won’t work for a while. If I can stop him.”
“The stubbornness of dwarves, ey.”
“I’m a dwarf!” Kíli reminded her. “I can outstubborn my brother.”
“Still, it’s not right. Aghi needs to be punished.”
Kíli could only very emphatically agree.
Later, while he was chopping wood for Gritt, Aarne himself came over and stood next to Kíli. “Bad business between Aghi and your brother.”
Kíli stopped chopping. “What happened? My brother wouldn’t tell.”
“It was when I came to pick up the two shovels I had ordered,” Aarne was always willing to talk. “Fíli spotted a fault in one of them and suggested Aghi should not charge full price for it. Aghi accused your brother of deliberately spoiling his ware. Of course, if I had known what would happen after, I would have stayed,” Aarne said very quickly, “but in fairness, I thought a dwarf could hold his own. Anyway, when I was nearly back at the village, I heard your brother scream. Me and Jesse ran back, and we pulled Aghi off Fíli. Fíli did not say a thing, he just picked up his bag and went away.”
“That bastard.”
“Yeah. Still.” Aarne crossed his arms and looked at Kíli almost defiantly. “I don’t mean to be rude, Kíli, but you dwarves are a strange folk. We all knew Fíli when he was a dwarfling and we were kids. But these days, he’s like the others. Never a smile, never a word too much, never a word of thanks, and why did he not even defend himself when he wrestled with grown men as a dwarfling and won.”
“We’re wary of outsiders,” Kíli explained, not for the first time. In truth, he wished that the other Longbeards were just a little more open. “My people have made bad experiences. And Fíli did not defend himself because to a dwarf it would not be honourable to beat his master.”
“His master. Pshaw.” Aarne made a rude gesture. “Everyone knows that Fíli is the superior smith. And heir to your uncle no less.”
“Still, he’s apprenticed to Aghi.”
There was an uncharacteristic silence. “Join us at my house for some ale later,” Aarne finally said, and patted Kíli’s shoulder.
Kíli was conflicted. On the one hand, he wanted to get back to his brother as soon as possible. On the other hand, Aarne’s invitation seemed important. The village being too small for a proper tavern, Aarne’s place was the general gathering place for a drink on many an evening and usually the invitations were a cheerful slap on the shoulder or somebody hollering at Kíli, while he was leaving, to come and have some fun.
In the end, he cooked some supper for Gritt and himself - while she was protesting that he was spoiling her - and after dinner they both walked over to Aarne’s. Most of the village was gathered, the women in one corner of the room with their needlework, the men in the other with their tankards of ale. Aghi was absent, as he almost always was.
“So,” Jesse said, while he was pressing a tankard in Kíli’s hand. “We’ve had enough of Aghi.”
“Oh?”
“Your brother might not be one of us, but you are,” Aarne said and everyone nodded. “Helping out the old folks, as you do. Childhood friend to most of us.”
“And next time, it might be one of us,” Jesse, always less sentimental than his little brother added grimly. “We have tolerated him because he is a cousin to most of us. And the only smith. But lately, seeing what you dwarves can do, we have thought that we don’t need a human smith.”
Kíli put his tankard down, not much in the mood for a drink right now. “What are you planning?”
“The young ones want to chase him out of the village,” Joonas, a man almost as old as Gritt said. “But I say no to that. We will not become lawless. We’ve seen what it does to other villages.”
The human settlements between Bree and the Blue Mountains were a loose confederation, the remnants of Arnor, bereft of a ruler and protector. They relied on the dwarves and rangers to protect them, never realising just how hard the rangers fought for them. Kíli had met them frequently while on the road and had tremendous respect for the way the Rangers dedicated their lives to protecting the human settlements. But there was no formal justice system as such.
Kíli finally took his ale and drank while around him, the humans argued about the best way to proceed. Only when they asked him how the dwarves would deal with such cases, he became involved in the discussion.
It was dark when he made his way home - they had wanted him to stay, but he took a torch and braved the dark forest to make it back to his brother. The path was frozen but Kíli had sure footing and better night vision than humans. While it was cold, it was not so cold that the wolves went hungry. Kíli’s passage was uneventful.
He found not only Gimli sitting by Fíli’s bed but also Balin and Oin.
When he spotted the healer, Kíli practically leapt to the bench his brother was resting on. “What is wrong with him?”
Fíli glared at him from the comfort of his cushion. “Him has a voice.”
“Why is Oin here?”
He had spoken loud enough for Oin to catch it. The healer gruffly patted Kíli’s arm. “I’m here because Balin fetched me. Your brother was not pleased to see me.”
Balin smiled. “I thought it was better to get a second opinion. I’d trust Fíli with my life, but not with his assessment of his health.”
Kíli dared to laugh a little. “And? What do you think Oin?”
“No walking until that foot is healed.” Oin glared down at Fíli. “Too many of our old warriors are not well on their feet, there was no time to rest after Azanulbizar. You’re young, we’re not at war. No need to handicap yourself, lad.”
“My apprenticeship …”
“… will continue after you are recovered,” Balin interrupted. “We need you as a warrior, lad.”
“Yes.” Kíli glared at his brother, who had the grace to look away, but then he looked back at Kíli. “Can you offer them something to drink? I cannot get up.”
Kíli flushed. “Of course. Gimli? Balin? Oin?”
Balin got up. “Thank you, lad, but I think it is time we all retired. Take care of your brother.”
“Gimli’ll be back in a moment with some ointment,” Oin promised, as he got up too.
“Thank you. And thank you for taking care of Fíli today. I’m sorry I was away all day.”
“With those humans,” Oin grumbled, but Balin patted Kíli kindly as he went out.
As soon as the door closed, Kíli knelt next to his brother. “I’m really sorry, Fíli, I wanted to be there for you.”
“You also need to be there for your friends.” Fíli smiled, his dimples flashing, extenuated by the red glow from the fire. “I understand.”
“I’d promised Gritt on my way home yesterday that I’d come today,” Kíli explained nonetheless. “I expected she was running out of firewood and I always need to make sure the roof is not leaking and …”
“I know,” Fíli interrupted him. “Did you talk with Aghi?”
Kíli balled his fists. “Yes. Bastard.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Not what I wanted to tell him.” Kíli growled. “Just that you’ll come back once you’re healed.”
“Good.”
“Did you eat?”
“Yes, Freya brought some stew over. Don’t worry about me.”
An angry retort was on Kíli’s tongue, but then he looked at his brother. Fíli was putting on such a brave face, as always. Softening, he put his hand on Fíli’s chest, right over his heart.
“Do you remember the fuss you made when I came back from my first trip as a guard without you? And I had that small flesh wound in my shoulder? You acted as if I was about to die from blood poisoning.”
Fíli laughed faintly. “It looked bad.”
“Not as bad as you do right now. If you’re allowed to worry about me, I worry about you.”
Fíli put his hand over Kíli’s. “Thank you.”
For a while, Kíli just enjoyed this quiet closeness to his brother. They remained like this until Gimli returned with the ointment.
When Gimli was gone, Kíli helped Fíli sit up and pulled his tunic up very carefully. Fíli’s broad chest was bruised all over. How hard did that smith hit? Kíli was very careful as he rubbed the ointment gently over the entire area. Still, Fíli could not suppress the occasional hiss of pain.
Once this ordeal was over, Kíli let Fíli’s tunic drop down again and helped Fíli into bed.
The next morning, when the sun’s rays tickled Kíli awake, Fíli was still sound asleep. Kíli smiled as he got up to properly close the shutter, so no sun would disturb his brother’s rest.
He busied himself around the kitchen, until he heard his brother call for him. Helping Fíli to the outhouse, rubbing ointments over Fíli’s bruises, and then redoing the splint and bandages for Fíli’s leg took a considerable part of the morning. Just as Kíli had started lunch, a knock came at the door. Too meek to be a dwarf. Fíli tried to sit up straighter on his bench, holding on to edge. Kíli slowly walked to the door, not sure what to expect.
It was Jesse outside the door and Kíli smiled in relief and confusion as he let his human friend in.
Jesse stomped his feet to get rid of the fresh snow that had fallen over night. “Good day Kíli. Fíli.”
“Welcome,” Fíli and Kíli said in unison and had to laugh a little. Kíli gestured to the space next to Fíli on the bench. “Sit down. Do you want a drink?”
“Something hot would be nice. Temperatures really dropped last night.”
“Indeed they did.” Kíli already had some spiced weak ale on the stove and poured some in the biggest mug they owned for Jesse. Jesse took it with a smile.
“We were talking a bit more after you were gone last night, see, and then this morning.”
“Of course. What did you decide?”
“We liked the idea you told us about, with the juries.”
“Juries?” Fíli looked at Jesse and then at Kíli. “What were you talking about?”
“Aghi of course.” Jesse looked down at Fíli in surprise. “What else? We need to do something about him. Some of us just wanted to chase him out with our pitchforks, tradition-like, but the older folks were against it.”
“But - why would you chase away your only smith?” Fíli still tried to sit straight despite the pain visible in the white knuckled grip on the edge of the bench and the corners of his eyes.
“What do you think would happen if he beat a young man of ours up instead of a young dwarf like yourself?”
Fíli did not answer and Jesse nodded. “See?”
“So what are you going to do?” Kíli repeated his question, not liking to be kept waiting.
“Form a jury of course. We’ll send to the other villages, Joonas’ idea. And,” Jesse looked between Fíli and Kíli, “we were thinking of one dwarf in the jury as well.”
“A dwarf?” Again the brothers spoke in unison. Kíli pulled a stool over to sit opposite his brother and his tall friend. “A dwarf?” Kíli repeated. “On a jury judging a human?”
“Yes. He beat up a dwarf after all. Of course, we’ll also deal with other things he’s done.”
Kíli thought that was logical but of course, Fíli had to be sceptical. “Is that wise? Kíli, get Balin.”
Kíli glared at his brother, but did as he was told.
Balin, once he was confronted with the idea, hedged as well.
Once more, Kíli had enough of dwarfish mulishness. “No, the humans will not mind. It was their idea. And we all live in the same area, it is time we pull together.”
Jesse nodded. “Right. At least in those cases. This time it was a human attacking a dwarf. Next time, a dwarf might attack a human. We would like a say then in the punishment.”
And that, of course, was why Balin had hesitated. Much to Kíli’s surprise though, Balin nodded. “We would ask you to wait, though,” the old dwarf said. “Thorin should be here for this.”
Thorin and Dis were home three days later. By that time, Fíli’s bruises had almost healed, and a tiny scab was all that remained of his bruised lip. His foot, too, had improved much and he was hobbling through the hut with the help of the crutches Kíli had fashioned for him.
He was just hobbling in from the back, as the door to the front of the house opened and Thorin and Dis stood in the door, staring at Fíli. Kíli was in the corner of the room that served as his workshop, fletching arrows.
“Would you close the doors?” He finally said, quietly wondering when exactly he had become the voice of reason in the family.
“What happened to you?” Thorin growled, not even looking at his younger nephew.
Fíli ducked his head sheepishly, but he finally closed the door and hobbled to his now customary spot at the fireplace, where he could put his leg up on a stool.
“I angered Aghi,” he explained.
“What did that human do to you?” Dis pushed her big brother aside to hurry to her son, snow falling off her shoulders.
“Don’t worry, mam.”
“Don’t you brush me off.” Dis tapped her foot. “I was against that meddling with humans, look where that brought us!”
“It is just that one human!” Kíli protested, jumping up. “And Jesse and Aarne stopped Aghi!”
“Not too soon.” Thorin was still growling but he, as well, was at least shutting the door again. The hut had become quite cold. Kíli went to the stove to put the kettle on.
“As soon as they could.”
“Kíli’s right,” Fíli said quietly. “They did come running as soon as they realised what was going on. And they want to punish him.”
It took a while for Fíli and Kíli to convey what had happened and what Jesse had proposed. To Kíli’s surprise, their mother cut off Thorin before he could immediately veto the idea.
“It’s a good idea. I’m not happier than you are, Thorin, at the idea of humans judging dwarves if the matter was reversed, but remember, the reason my son is in this state is that you agreed we need better relations with the humans. And establishing a justice system is a greater step than one apprenticeship.”
Thorin did not respond which was as good as an agreement from him.
For the day of the trial, Fíli let Kíli help him clean up. Fíli had such beautiful hair and Kíli had always loved it when he was allowed to wash it and to help styling it. Fíli’s moustache had grown a lot in recent months. As Kíli was combing it, he suggested, half joking, “Do you want me to braid your moustache, brother?”
Fíli creased his foreheads. “A braided moustache?”
“You love braids.”
“Let’s try!”
Once Kíli was done, Fíli took a long moment to contemplate himself in the mirror. “I like it,” he decided then, flicking one of the braids.
Thorin and Dis also seemed to agree. Dis complimented her oldest on looking very dignified.
They all took the wagon down to the village of men. Despite the cold, the square in the middle of the huts had to serve as make-shift court as nobody wanted to miss the proceedings and with all the villagers, a group of dwarves plus the extra jury members and their curious families from other villages, there was no house big enough. There were even a few rangers who had heard about this new style of trial.
It was immediately obvious that Aghi had not come willingly. Aarne as well as two young men from the village were sporting bruises and Aghi was actually bound.
“He’s a dwarf!” Aghi roared as the dwarves came closer.
“Shut your face!” Kíli roared right back, backed up by Gloin who had been all for just beating Aghi in revenge.
Balin put his hand on Kíli’s shoulder. “Calm down, my lad. We agreed we do this in a civilised manner.” The old dwarf smiled kindly at Joonas as if the two were old acquaintances, despite them having met only twice and only in recent days.
It took hours to even set up the trial, as everything was new for everyone involved. People from different villages had to agree on precedence and procedure. To Kíli’s chagrin, the dwarves stood apart in a sullen group. Apart from Balin, who was in great form and who helped Joonas to settle things to everyone’s satisfaction. Kíli himself hovered around Fíli, worried that this outing was too much for his brother in his state.
Finally, the trial began. It took little time for the jury to decide that Aghi was guilty of attempted manslaughter (or rather dwarfslaughter) despite Fíli’s reluctance in giving evidence. The jury decided that the apprentice contract was void and after more villagers came forth and accused Aghi of threatening them, he was also found guilty of disrupting the village’s peace.
That led to the question of punishment. Some suggested exile, but most villagers seemed uneasy by that suggestion. Much as they feared Aghi, he was related to almost all of them and exiling Aghi would be a death sentence. A man of his temper would not be welcome anywhere. When Balin suggested the dungeon the dwarves had in the old mine, a heated discussion broke loose. Could a human be held in prison by the dwarves? At this point, Kíli asked Gritt if he could bring Fíli to her house and she immediately agreed.
Once Fíli was a bit more comfortable, resting on Gritt’s bench, he still did not look happy.
“Everyone will think I’m weak now.”
“Everyone knows he injured you badly,” Kíli retorted. “He was found guilty, your apprenticeship is void.”
“And the debate right now may destroy all our efforts to foster good relations with the humans.”
“It won’t. As mam said, this is just the start, whatever happens.”
“No.” Fíli smiled again and patted Kíli’s thigh almost awkwardly. “The start was when a wild dwarfling decided that he needed to make friend with the tall children of men. We should have listened to you from the start.”
“I know.” Kíli put his hand over Fíli’s. “I worried about you while I was gone.”
“Worrying about you when you’re gone is my job.”
“I’m a good warrior.”
“I know you are. But a bit reckless.”
There was nothing that Kíli could say to defend himself against that so he remained quiet for a while.
Not long after Gritt came to fetch them to hear the final decision.
It was decided that the dungeon in the mines would serve as prison for both men and dwarves, as it was the only proper jail for miles. Thorin had agreed to sign a deal that said that the dwarves would not treat their human prisoners worse than their dwarven counterparts and that they would ensure their survival as best as they could. And specifically, he promised that they would not kill Aghi. Aghi was sentenced to five years in the dungeon.
Dusk was settling in, so the dwarves took their new prisoner and made their way back to their settlement. Nobody spoke much apart from shouting at Aghi to shut up when he went on yet another rant.
The next day, Jesse and Joonas both came to the hut the Durins shared. They suggested that, as everyone knew Fíli was an excellent smith, he should take over the smithy in Aghi’s absence. Before Fíli could answer, Thorin roughly said that they would need to think about it. Luckily, Balin chose this moment to appear and he whisked the humans away to the hut he shared with his wife and Dwalin. Before Thorin could kick out two humans who had come all the way without drink or food.
Once they were gone, Thorin told Fíli that the offer was out of the question. “Enough of that smith for humans nonsense. You are my heir and you are to become a warrior.”
“You’re a smith and a warrior,” Kíli pointed out, but, as usual, his contribution to such discussion was not honoured by more than a sidewards glance.
“As I said, Fíli, you’re my heir. Heir to the Longbeards. That apprenticeship has already strengthened our ties, but at the cost of almost crippling you.”
“Hardly!” Fíli protested, “I just broke my foot. And rejecting their offer is weakening what we just achieved.”
“You’re not going to waste your life crafting tools for farmers.”
When it looked like Fíli was going to cave in, as always, Kíli resolutely stood between his uncle and his brother.
“Thorin. For once, listen to me. Fíli is hardly going to stay there forever. Aghi will be released and by then, they will need to decide whether to give him his property back or compensate him. And Fíli could take on a human apprentice, teach him all he needs to know. That will establish a good relationship with the humans.”
They stared at each other. Kíli was every bit as fierce as Thorin. But it was Dis who broke the stand-off.
“Listen to Kíli, Thorin. He’s right. It will only be a few more years. You and I will spend that time as we have, setting up our community here and strengthening our ties with the Broadbeams in the South. My sons will strengthen our ties with the humans.”
“One day, we will be back in Erebor,” Thorin’s balled his fists. “One day we will have reclaimed the Arkenstone and not seek favours from human villages.”
Dis nodded. “One day.”
They all knew it meant that Thorin had given in.
When Thorin and Dis left for Dwalin’s hut to tell Joonas and Jesse, Kíli settled next to Fíli. “How do you feel about that?”
“I need you to stay there with me for a while.” Fíli’s blue eyes were imploring. “I know we need the money from your guard jobs as well, but without you, I don’t know how to establish myself in the village.”
“You played with most of them as a child.”
“And now they’re old!” Fíli rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know how you managed to keep all your friendships.”
“It’s a gift.” Kíli put his forehead against Fíli’s. “It’s a gift you share, brother, if you just allow yourself. Everyone admires you wherever you go. And I will stay with you in the village of men until you have rediscovered your connections with them.”
“Thank you.” Fíli pressed his forehead closer, his hands on Kíli’s shoulders. “Thank you for everything.”
In moments like this, Kíli didn’t know how he could ever leave his brother. Fíli was everything.