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No one exactly was sure at which point it had happened. One day, Fili and Kili were two idiot brothers, while Dwalin and Ori were unlikely friends. The next, the four of them were always together, day and night, walking together, sleeping close, talking and joking between them. If anyone had asked Balin, he'd have said the change had seemed to happen during their stay in Rivendell, but of course no one asked him.

Dori and Nori disapproved, because their brother was too young to be courted by anyone, and also because they still weren't sure who exactly was courting him. Thorin disapproved because as far as he was concerned, no one in his company should think of anything other that Erebor, least of all his nephews and his best warrior. Everyone disapproved, because no one knew who was interested in who in that strange love square they had. But as Gandalf had told them, they could disapprove all they wanted, the facts were there, and it was too late to change anything.

The four of them were perfectly happy like that, too. Fili had always admired Dwalin's strength, his scars and tattoos, his dry sense of humour and his frankness, in return for what the warrior had always had a great fondness for the prince who was just as stubborn as all men of his line, but kinder, and maybe more worried than his uncle about doing the right thing. As for Kili, he had fallen for Ori as soon as he had seen him, struck by his fine face and clever words, and the young scholar had been just as touched by the young prince's kindness and courage. Fili and Kili had always been close, of course, and Dwalin and Ori's friendship had been quick to grow, but was already as strong as if they had know each other for a life time. And sometimes Dwalin would help Kili learn to use a sword as well as he did his bow, while Fili and Ori would discuss great kings of the past.

“Aren't you worried people might gossip?” Gloin once asked Dwalin. “The four of you, like that, and no one is really sure who's courting who...”

“We know. That's what matters.”

“Isn't the age difference going to be a problem?” Balin had worried when talking to Fili. “He's old enough to be your father, no matter which one is actually involved with him.”

“He's survived that long, I'm sure we won't kill him before quite a few years, don't you worry.”

“They're far above the like of us,” Dori had whined to Ori. “They're royalty, and we're nothing, it can't last.”

“I'm of the same blood as them, you know. And even if it doesn't last, I'll be more than glad of whatever time I have with them.”

“Are things like that common among dwarves?” Bilbo had enquired to Kili.

“Not that much, no. Well, brothers are supposed to be close. And sworn brothers, like Ori and Dwalin, aren't rare. And of course, dwarves fall in love, like everyone. But I don't think I've ever heard of a combination of all that before.”

“The four of you look very happy.”

“We are,” Kili has assured with a bright smile. “Happier than I'd ever thought I could be.”

“Then I'm happy for you.”

Their first talks of wedding happened at Beorn's. It was just a joke a first, something that Dwalin had said to make the young ones laugh. But Fili had looked very seriously at him, as if noticing something for the first time. It was not unusual for him to stare at the warrior like that, his fair face darkened by desire and possessiveness, and no one said anything.

The following day, the four of them were outside the shape-shifter's house, each to his hobby, silently enjoying the sun and the good company, when Fili cleared his throat and declared he had something to announce.

“I know it's probably early to talk of such things, but this is a dangerous quest, and I want to do things as properly as I can. So Dwalin, will you marry me when we have reconquered Erebor? You can say no, and I won't hold any grudge against you, since you've never promised me more than what we have now...”

“Are you serious, lad?”

Fili looked away, his face red. “Like I said, I'll understand that you don't want to...”

“Nothing would make me happier than that,” Dwalin said, taking the prince's hand in his. “You're an idiot to think I could ever refuse you.”

Fili had thrown his arms around the warrior's neck at that, dragging him for a kiss that left them breathless. Next to them Ori and Kili laughed and congratulated them, sharing their joy.

“Maybe we could have a double wedding,” Kili said suddenly. “You know. You two. And Ori and me. Would you like that, Ori? With... with me?”

“If I... oh! OH! Yes, of course! Are you sure? Are you really sure? Because I really want you, but only if you're sure, and...”

The dark haired prince cut him with a kiss, and it was Dwalin and Fili's turn to laugh and tease, calling them copycat, pretending they might not want to share their wedding day with anyone, but they all knew that could only be a joke.

For the four of them to be married was the nicest thing they could think of.

Going through Mirkwood was a hard time for everyone. But Dwalin watched over the company at all times, making them feel safer, and seeing an old seasoned warrior like him keep hope helped them go on. Fili would sometimes look at him, and feel strangely proud of his betrothed. He'd often go and touch Dwalin's arm in those moments, just to make sure it was all real, and the warrior would laugh and kiss his temple before going back to his business.

But soon, food and water started missing, and even Dwalin had trouble pretending all was fine then. They had all lost hope, and more than one regretted having come on such an adventure, though they never said so aloud, for fear of angering Thorin. And yet Ori kept writing every day, and sketching this or that plant, as if it still mattered.

“You're too young to die like this,” Dwalin told him one night. “This is worse than facing orcs. At least then it was quick, if it wasn't always painless.”

“I'm glad to be here though,” the scholar assured him. “Even if there's death at the end of the journey, I'll have known you, and Kili, and that's something I can't ever regret, right?”

“Glad to know I'm appreciated,” Fili grumbled next to him. “Though I know what you mean, of course. And I suppose you're right, but I'd rather not die, all the same.”

“You and all of us, princeling,” Dwalin said. “But it is rather nice to have known... this, at least once.”

They didn't die there, of course. In a rather surprising turn of events, the elves ended up saving them. That didn't please Dwalin at all, and he'd have starved rather than eat their food, if Ori, who was in the next cell, hadn't pointed out that it was a rather stupid reaction.

“You'll be of no use if you're starving, will you? What if the burglar finds a way to get us out, and you're... you're too weak because you won't eat?”

“But it's elvish food! Could be poisoned for all we know.”

“It's green stuff, doesn't need more poison than that, does it? But if I'm eating it, then so can you. I thought a great warrior was one who didn't shy away from a challenge?”

Dwalin grinned, and grabbed the nearest piece of celery.

“You win for this time, lad. But I swear if they don't give us some proper meat soon, I'm eating my own leg rather than have another mouthful of that crap.”

“If you give me a bite, I'll even help you cut it down.”

“So nice to have a friend ready to help you. Hey, Fili! Ori says he'll cut my leg if we don't get any meat soon, will you want some?”

There were a few laughs from the nearest cells.

“That's not the sort of meat my brother wants from you!” Kili yelled. “And Ori, I think I ought to be jealous that you want to touch anyone's legs, just because I'm not there! Your brothers raised you better than that. Also, Fili says if you so much as touch Dwalin's leg, he'll tear off your eyes and make you eat them.”

“That's my tough little prince,” Dwalin said proudly.

The next day, there was a healthy dose of meat in the food brought to them, and the elves looked them as if they were monsters. Elves, apparently, did not understand dwarvish humour.

Esgaroth was a decent enough place. Of course, any place that wasn't Mirkwood, or the elves' dungeons, was by definition a nice place, but this was particularly pleasant. The men treated them like heroes, giving them the best food they had had since leaving Beorn's house, and a nice house to use until they were ready to go. Which would not be until at least a week, Thorin declared, since their little burglar had caught a rather severe cold, and needed to heal before anything could be done. They still had some time before Durin's Day, and the small lad more than deserved to be treated well, after all he had done for them.

Some bedroom arrangement where soon made by Thorin, so that there would be two of them in each room. It took some negotiation to convince Nori, who was supposed to share with Dwalin, that he should trade places with Ori, but in the end he agreed, quite certain that it would allow his little brother to have some private time with his beloved. Which it did, of course, once Ori went to join Kili, leaving his place to Fili. By the end of their stay, the four of them were quite surprised that no one had caught them, though at that point, they were rather certain that the others had just given up on understanding what was going on with them.

They had a nice time, still. It was the most privacy they had had since the beginning of their quest, and Fili took full advantage of it.

“Your uncle thinks I've caught Bilbo's cold,” Dwalin told him the third night. “Says I look as though I don't sleep properly, and I should stay in bed longer while we can afford it.”

“And that is the best advice he ever gave anyone. You should obey your king and stay in bed all day tomorrow. I'll keep you company, if you want.”

“Not sure that will help me rest,” Dwalin laughed, kissing the young prince. “But I've known worse ways to spend a day. Not sure your uncle will be too happy to have you disappear in my bedroom a whole day, though. He might even finally understand it's me you're sleeping with.”

“It would be about time, too. I think at the moment, his best bet is on Kili, and that's why he doesn't want to ask me about it.”

Dwalin sniggered. Thorin had never been particularly good at this, even when they had been young and careless. There had been a reason he'd remained single all these years, and Erebor wasn't the only thing to blame.

“I rather like that your uncle is clueless, princeling. If I weren't to marry you, I don't think I'd ever tell him. A wolf would be less protective of its cubs that he is with you lads.”

“It's not Thorin you should fear,” Fili protested. “Mother is worse than him, and she'll threaten you in all the ways she knows, once we tell her. I rather hope we can get married before she arrives, too. I don't want to face her and have to tell her I've shared my bed outside of wedlock.”

“True. She raised you better than that. You ought to be ashamed, lad.”

“Oh, I am. Terribly. I think as a punishment for my improper actions, I should be forced to marry the poor dwarf whose honour I've destroyed. Seems only fair to me, don't you think?”

Dwalin smirked, kissing him again.

“Then let's make sure my honour is properly ruined, princeling, just to be sure you won't escape that wedding, eh?”

And Fili, always ready to help, set out to do just that.

Their last night in the town of the men was a rather melancholy one. Ori wasn't sure he wanted to leave at all. Even from there, the mountain was far too close for his tastes, and he couldn't help but think of the dragon hiding there, that terrible monster that had killed so many good dwarves and men. What chance they had against such a creature, he did not know.

“It will be alright,” Kili promised him as they laid in bed. “We have the burglar, and he's the cleverest little thing I've ever met. He'll find a way to rid us of the beast, and all will be well. Our kingdom will be ours again! Can you imagine, having a proper home, at last?”

“I had a home, in the Blue Mountains, and so did you. It's the old ones who didn't feel at their right place there. Not that I'm not glad I came! It's... well, it's been something. I'll have tales to write about for years to come, if we survive.”

“Of course we will survive! That I promise you. I certainly have not survived your brothers' suspicious stares to not even live long enough to wed you. I haven't acted right, but I'll make an honest dwarf of you, you can be sure of it.”

“I don't care about honest, as long as I have you. I love you, you know.”

There was a moment of silence then.

“You've never said it before,” Kili whispered.

“I have. But never when you... when you were awake. I was... afraid, I s'ppose.”

“But you're not now.”

“Not of that, no. We're going to attack a dragon with thirteen dwarves and a hobbit, it puts things in perspective. So. I love you.”

“And I love you too. But you knew that.”

“Still nice to hear it again,” Ori assured him. “It's one thing I'll never get tired of hearing, actually. So never stop telling me, okay?”

“I promise. And. I love you.”

But things went wrong, and it wasn't even because of the dragon, but because of a foolish king's greed. The entire company disapproved of Thorin's desire to keep the entire gold for themselves, and Fili even dared to argue with him, after their burglar had been forced to leave them. He called his uncle a terrible ruler, accusing him of selfishness, of holding old and meaningless grudges that would kill them all.

“Think what you want, nephew,” had been Thorin's answer. “When you're king, you'll do as you see fit. But you are not yet, and until then you will obey, like the others, unless you want me to send you away. I got rid of one traitor, I do not mind doing it again.”

That had struck Fili more than any physical blow could have, and for the first time of his life he had felt dislike and contempt for his uncle. Why he had followed that dwarf so far, and why he had believed his words before, he would no longer understand it.

“That's only the gold sickness talking, princeling,” Dwalin had told him later, when they had taken some time alone with Kili and Ori. “Dain will arrive, and as far as I remember, he has more sense than your uncle, he will set things right. Thorin will soon enough see the error of his ways, and the shame of it will make him act good and proper once again.”

“You say that like it changes anything of what he's doing now!” Fili yelled. “It's still not right! Tell me, was he always that terrible a ruler? Was I too blind to see it before, in Ered Luin? Have I really been mistaken about him my whole life? Have you followed him knowing what he really was?”

“Don't be unfair to him or to me, laddie. He's always been a great king to our people, and I didn't expect this any more than you did. Don't you think I've already had my share of battles for your line? I was in Azanulbizar, and war is the last thing I could ever want again in my life. Your father died in my arms there, as did many of my friends. And Thorin's friends too, mind you. None of us wants to see that again, and I am quite sure your uncle will see reason before it is too late.”

“But what if he doesn't?” Ori mumbled behind Dwalin. “We don't have a chance, do we? Not against... all of them.”

“We'll find a way, lad.”

“We'll fight!” Kili claimed loudly, surprising them all. “Not for uncle, not for his gold, nor his stone. We'll fight for each others, to stay together!I'll protect all of you if you protect me, and I swear I'll survive if you promise me to do the same. Deal?”

“Deal,” Ori agreed, determination written all over his young face.

“Deal,” Fili said, with a fond smile for his brother.

“Deal,” Dwalin sighed. “And I rather hope none of you young idiots die, or I swear I'll kill you myself.”

The four of them fought around Thorin, by duty more than affection at that point. They all agreed that the news of the orc's armies coming had put some sense of that thick head of his, but as Fili gloomily reminded them all, that didn't excuse his previous behaviour.

It was a tough fight. The orcs and the wargs were in greater numbers than them, and when one fell, two would replace it. Fili soon found he was tired, and the last few days spent with nothing but cram to eat had put a stroll on his strength. But a few feet from him, Dwalin was fighting, though he was quite as tired as him, if not more, and that gave him the energy he needed to go on. He could not die there and then. He had made a promise.

But promise or not, he failed to see a warg approaching him until the beast's jaws clenched on his arm, and the last thing he saw before the pain became too much was Dwalin, running to his rescue.

Fili woke up with Ori at his side and though the pain in his left arm and eye made it difficult to think, he knew that was bad news. He was the last person the young scholar should be caring for. It wasn't right.

“Kili?” he rasped. “Dwalin?”

“Kili's right here, on the bed next to yours,” Ori answered, his voice wavering. “We'll save him. I swear we'll save him.”

“Dwalin?”

Ori broke down into tears. Fili closed his eyes again, and went back to sleep. He hoped he would not awake again.

The next few days were hell. The pain in Fili's arm and eye had turned out to be caused by the absence of both of these. He'd been lucky, the healers said. The wounds had been easy to clean, and there was no infection. His brother had not been had as much luck. He'd taken a blow to the head, and the orc's axe had cut through his skull as if it had been butter. Kili was still alive, but only barely, and just because Ori wouldn't give up on him.

“He'll get better,” the scholar kept repeating. “I'm trying something new, that the elves gave me. It'll work. I'll save him. I'll save him.”

They all tried to convince him that there was no hope, but the young dwarf wouldn't listen, pushing everyone away until, in the end, only Fili would still risk talking to him. For the first few days, he believed in Ori, certain that if there was any way to save his brother, the small dwarf would find it, that he wouldn't lose everything. But with every passing hour, it became clearer that nothing could be done, that they were only prolonging his agony.

“Let him go,” Fili begged by the end of the second week. “It's no use.”

“But he can't DIE! He promised! We all promised we wouldn't die, we were supposed to be always together. WE PROMISED! And if he dies, what do I have left? You? I don't want you! I want Dwalin, and I want Kili, not you! Why did it have to be you?”

Fili sighed.

“If I could, I'd die if it could bring them back. I want them. I want them both. But I can't have them now, and neither can you. Let him die, Ori. I can't stand it anymore, seeing him like that.”

“But I can save him. I can.”

Fili did not insist.

It took another three days for Kili to die, and until the very end, Ori had refused to give up on him. Neither of them went to the young prince's funeral. Fili was not yet strong enough to go out, and Ori stayed with him, unwilling to leave him alone at such a time.

There were many discussions while Fili was recovering about who should become the next king of Erebor. Fili was, technically, Thorin's heir, and with his uncle's death the throne should have become his, but some did not agree. His health was still uncertain, and the battle had had a dreadful impact on his moral, it would be wiser to let Dain rule, as he had experience of these things. But the entire company protested and fought for the young prince's right to his crown, and in the end they were the ones to win.

Fili would be king to a mountain he did not even want.

“It was Thorin's dream, not mine,” he complained to Ori the morning he was to be crowned. “I liked Ered Luin. That was my home. That was our home, for all of us. I miss it. It was nice and sunny, and there were flowers. Erebor does not have flowers.”

“It's winter,” Ori reminded him. “In a few months, we'll have all the flowers you want. Come here now, I'll braid your hair.”

Fili sighed and rolled his eyes, but went to sit next to Ori. He did not like the way he needed help to do anything at all. Even getting dressed was a chore, and getting care of his hair was entirely impossible. But Ori helped. Day and night, he stayed by Fili's side, as if he had nothing else to do with his life. Which was probably the case, in a way. His inability to save his lover seemed to have broken the little scholar, and Fili felt enough pity for him that, even though it hurt his pride, he had decided to let Ori help as much as possible, until they were both better.

And it was rather nice, having someone braid his hair and moustache. Nice and sad. Dwalin had only done it for him once or twice, there had never been much time for it, but each time it had felt terribly intimate, and Fili had loved it. Having it done by Ori was entirely different of course, his hands were smaller, less assured, but he didn't pull as much.

“Your hair is just as soft as Kili's,” Ori whispered, almost to himself. “A bit straighter though, it's a wonder you manage to braid them at all.”

“I have our father's hair. Kili is a true Durin, like uncle. He's got the brain to go with to. Thank Mahal, I'm the brain of this family.”

“I know how that feels,” Ori assured him. “But Kili isn't that... I mean. Wasn't. He... wasn't...”

His voice broken, and even without seen his face, Fili knew the younger dwarf was fighting tears. Usually that meant he would excuse himself and flee the room to cry alone, but not this time. Instead, the young scholar continued working on his braids until he was finally ready.

“There, now you look like a king,” Ori said with a proud little smile. He looked so young then, still a child, even after all that had happened. Thorin should never have allowed him to come, Fili thought. Thorin should never have dragged any of them into this mess, really.

“I don't want to be king,” he growled. “I hate this place, and they don't even want me to be king. They want my uncle.”

“Then they are idiots,” Ori exclaimed. “I... it's you I followed into battle, that day. I think... it's you we all followed. Well, all... You know what I mean. But, really. You lead the four of us, that day, not Thorin. And I think you'll be a greater king than he would have been, and... oh, sorry, that's probably not something I should be saying, right?”

Fili smiled. “Let's say you should not criticize Thorin near most of the others, yeah. But, I guess... thank you? I still don't really want that damn mountain, but it's nice to know there's a least one person who thinks I deserve it.”

Ori did not answer, helping him put a last touch to his outfit. Once he deemed the future king presentable, the young scholar took a step back to look at him, and frowned.

“You really aren't like him at all. Like... your brother.” Fili said nothing, surprised the other one had never realized before how different he was from Kili. But Ori's frown deepened, and he spoke again. “You're not at all the same, and yet you are. You've got the same smile, when you think you don't deserve a compliment. And you play with the tip of your hair when you're nervous, just like he does.”

“I don't do that!”

“Well, you do. But... Kili also thought he didn't do it. And he... Mahal, I can just imagine it, if he saw you now. He'd say you look like a pirate from a fairy tale, with that patch on your eye and your missing eye, and he'd... he'd say you didn't have to try and compete with Dwalin's scars, and Dwalin would laugh, but only just a little because he'd be dead worried about you being hurt, and... and they'd both try to make you laugh, and, and, and... Oh, Mahal be cursed, it's not fair!”

This time the young dwarf cried, and Fili found that he could not stand it. He had not cried a single time over his lover or his brother, but Ori was doing it enough for the two of them. The little scholar had been too young for all of this, Fili thought again. He was just a child. A child who had lost everything he loved before he had time to properly appreciate it all. A child who was right on one point: none of this was fair.

So he pulled Ori into a hug. He did not know what else he could do. Nothing he could say would change the fact that all they had left was each other, and that it was the last thing they could ever have wanted.

The life of a king was even more boring than Fili had ever imagined it would be. People kept coming to him to tell him that they had taken a decision, and needed him to approve it so that they could set to work, all the while making it clear that his agreement was a mere formality, and that they would do what they wanted anyway.

It was his own fault, of course. If he had shown any interest in what they were all doing, they would have included him a lot more in what was happening. But with every new day spent in Erebor, he hated the place a little more. He hated it for how dark it was, for the way it stank of the dragon, for how hungry they would all be without Esgaroth, for how empty it was, without Kili's laughter and Dwalin's jokes. He hated it for the way it had taken everything he had ever loved.

But then again, there were few things he didn't hate. The kingdom, the dwarves around him, his uncle, Dain, Bard, the dragon, himself. Even Ori was often the victim of his perpetual anger, but the small scholar did not seem to mind. But of course, there was nothing Ori seemed to mind, these days. When he was not helping Fili, he would just stand there and stare at empty air. The young king was torn between finding it infuriating, and worrying about the boy.

In the end, because he was a Durin, it was usually the anger that won. Anger at himself, more often than not, because he hated not being able to help Ori, when he was doing so much for him. But nothing he could do or say would make the little scholar react. Ori would just look at him with that sad little face of his, and Fili would know that he was wondering why Kili couldn't have been the survivor. That was at least one question they had in common.

Months came and passed. Dis sent many letters, explaining she would come as soon as things were settled in Ered Luin, but it was clear she did not want to see again the kingdom that had cost her so much. Fili couldn't blame her. Eleven months after the reconquest, he sent her a letter of his own, telling her not to bother. There were dwarves in the Blue Mountain that had no intentions of moving back to Erebor; she should stay there for them.

That letter might have been a bit more aggressive than it ought to have been, he had to admit it. But things were at their worst. Everything felt dark and bleak and utterly useless. The only reason he got up in the morning was because Ori came to dress him. And Ori only got up in the morning because he had to take care of Fili.

“You don't have to do that you know,” Fili told him one morning.

Ori shrugged, and started buttoning his shirt without a word.

“You really don't,” the young king insisted. “I can find someone else to help me, or I can learn to do it alone.”

“But if I can't do that, then what do I have left?” Ori whispered back.

It was the first time in more than two months that Fili had heard his voice. He didn't know what to say.

“If you want me to leave you alone, I will,” Ori sighed. “I know I'm not much fun to be around.”

“If you leave, then who do I have left?” the king answered. “You're all I have left. But if you stay, I don't want it to be out of pity. We... are we even friends?”

Ori shrugged again.

“You don't hate me as much as you hate everything else, and I care more about you than I do about the rest of the world. I suppose it does make us friend.”

Fili didn't answer, but it almost made him smile. He still had a friend.

The anniversary of the Battle of the Five Army arrived, and Fili had to organize a great celebration for it. It made him sick that people expected him to celebrate with a feast and music the horror that had claimed his lover and his brother, but there was no escaping it, as Balin made it clear.

“It's a lack of respect to the dead, not being glad of still have your life,” the old dwarf told him. “If Dwalin, Thorin, all the others and I found it in ourselves to celebrate what little victory we found at Azanulbizar, then you can do it for a battle as successful as the one we had here. You may be in pain, young king, but your subjects should not be forced to cry with you.”

“Do it, if it can make them leave you alone,” Ori advised him. “And think about it, would you rather be alone when that day comes, or have people around you so that you're less tempted to jump out of the nearest window?”

“I'll do it if you stay with me all the time,” Fili demanded.

“And where else could I be?”

Jumping from a window, the young king thought with no little worry. He had his anger to keep him alive. What did Ori have?

Still, it was a nice enough feast, in the end. Or so Fili supposed. He spent most if his time drinking, and ignoring both Thranduil and Bard. That made Balin glare at him, but he was far too drunk to care. The only thing that somehow mattered was that Ori didn't leave his side for a moment, and that he managed to make the young scholar almost as drunk as himself. Fili was fairly sure that they spent a good part of the night giggling, for some reason, and that he made a fool of himself, but he absolutely did not care. He hated all those people around him anyway, and it was nice to see Ori smile again. It made him feel like the old days.

But even drunk, Ori had a sense of duty, and when he saw that Fili could barely even lift his glass without spilling half of it on the table and the rest on his tunic, he decided it was time for the king to go to bed. Since he wasn't in a much better shape, their travel to the royal bedroom was a rather eventful one, but they still arrived there in the end. At that point, Fili would have been glad to just fall on his bed and sleep until the end of times, but Ori would hear none of it.

“I have one job in this kingdom,” he claimed, almost yelling. “And that's to do my job. By underessing you. Every night. So I'll underess you now.”

“Last time someone said they'd undress me every night, I got laid,” Fili grumbled sleepily. “Got laid plenty. And it was quality laiding too. And how can you be so bad at removing b'ttons? I just got... I just got...”

He tried to count them, but the number kept changing and he had to give up. Maybe that was why Ori was having so much trouble with them.

“You're so small,” the young king suddenly said. “Like, I think our burglererar was taller than you. Because. You're small. You're a very small dwarf. The smallest of all dwarves. But you look cuddly. A cuddly small dwarf. I'm sure I could cuddle you until the end of days.”

Fili felt Ori's hands go still on his last button, and he saw the younger dwarf tense. That he was able to notice that through all the alcohol in his blood must have been proof of just how tense the other was, he thought. But that thought was not allowed to go any further, because suddenly Ori was kissing him, and it was a shock, yes, but his lips were soft and warm, and his hands were warmer still on Fili's cheeks. When the young scholar pulled away just as suddenly, the young king felt almost disappointed.

“You really are nothing at all like your brother,” Ori said as if that explained anything, and then he left the room, no longer caring that Fili was still half dressed.

And really, the king felt he should have gone after him to demand what that had been about. But his bed was right there, and he was tired and drunk, and sleep felt a lot more important than kisses at that point.

So he tried to fall on his bed, and missed it by a good two meters.

When morning arrived, and Fili started waking up, he immediately had the nagging feeling that something important had happened during the night, but he didn't know what, and except for a rather awful hangover, everything was just as usual. Ori was maybe a little rougher than usual while dressing him, but too be honest the little scholar was clearly even less used to alcohol than him.

“Next year, we don't drink,” Fili decided.

“Agreed. But did... did I do anything strange? I feel like I missed something...”

“Well, you are actually talking to me this morning. That's... strange. You don't usually talk.”

Ori frowned.

“I'll stop if that's a problem.”

“It's not. Just. Strange. But not in a bad way, you know?”

And Fili was sure that Ori was almost smiling then.

Neither of them remembered what had happened during that night, nor were they sure that anything had actually happened, for that matter. But things started improving slowly after that.

Not that Ori talked a lot more, of course, and he still refused to draw or write, no matter how many times his brothers suggested he tried to write about their quest. And Fili still didn't want to be king, and was making it as clear as ever that he hated Erebor. But they both made an effort. Ori started reading, at least, and most of what he read was old treaties with the elves and the humans, and books on how to rule fairly, which he shared with Fili. In return, the young king did his best to get involved in the affairs of the mountain, and he even gave his opinion during councils, to Balin's obvious joy.

It was in private that the change was really visible, though. Ori still wouldn't smile, but Fili did. Not as often as before. But still. Sometimes, Ori would say something, with that serious little face of his, and Fili would smile. The lad reminded him of Kili, both of them so young (and Ori would soon be the age Kili had been when they had left), and of Dwalin, who just like him could be so involved in the things he cared about that he would seem to despise everything else, if you didn't know him. And so what if one was a scholar, when the other had been a warrior? The passion was just as strong, and Fili had to admire that. He rather hoped that Ori's mourning would soon be over, and that he would start drawing again.

Not that it was always easy. Some days, Ori would look at him, frown, and close up entirely, not talking for days at a time. Fili didn't know why. But each time, when he started speaking again, the small scholar always told him the same thing.

“You really are nothing at all like your brother.”

It hurt, for some reason. After years, decades of everyone saying the two princes were like one soul in two bodies, it hurt to hear the one person who still mattered tell him it wasn't true. That nothing of Kili lived in him. That he was all that was left.

But Fili couldn't protest. It was true. He was nothing like Kili.

Kili would never have thought of surviving him.

Months came and passed once again. Fili could see that Ori was tempted to pick up his old hobbies once again. Why he resisted was a mystery, and the young king was more than half tempted to ask him for a scarf or a nice cardigan. It would have been useful, too. Winter was coming again, and the whole mountain would soon be freezing. Another reason to miss Ered Luin. It was never that cold, back there, and at least on the coldest nights, Fili knew his brother would join him in his bed to share the heat. They never slept much on those night, and instead they would often talk until morning. Fili missed that.

He missed many things. His brother's smile when he was happy, and Dwalin's smirk he was in a good mood. Kili attempting to sing and failing terribly, his voice worse than a sick troll's, but he didn't care, and they still had fun, and they would dance and drink at parties, which had always been too rare for their taste. Dwalin telling him about weapons, and how to use them and care for them, handling his axes with a delicacy that had always amazed Fili as a youngster, until he had other, more intimate occasions to discover just how delicate the warrior could be in private. And oh, didn't he miss that too, as the days grew shorter and the nights colder.

As the second anniversary of the battle came, Fili found himself having to organize another feast, and this time he could not even count on alcohol to help him. He still wasn't sure what had happened the year before, but he was certain that he didn't want to get drunk again.

It wasn't nearly as bad as the year before, though. The food was good, what little beer he had was cold and comforting. Bard wasn't a bad fellow in the end, especially now that the rebuilding of Dale had advanced. Thranduil was still rather annoying, though their was a certain melancholy to him, and Fili could sympathize with that at least. He just wished the elf hadn't brought his son. Prince Legolas reminded him of Kili, with how young he looked, that smile he had, and his tendency to point out the obvious. Ori must have noticed the resemblance too; whenever he wasn't talking to Fili, he was with Legolas.

Fili wasn't jealous, of course.

Except he was. For the past two years, Ori had been his, entirely. His one link to Kili and Dwalin. The only one who had known them as well as him. And it wasn't fair, but he didn't want the young scholar to talk to anyone. It was supposed to be the two of them, mourning until their last day, reminding one another of those they had lost.

It was selfish. But when Ori and the elf started talking in sindarin, like old friend, the king yawned and grumbled and announced he had to go to bed. Ori immediately abandoned Legolas, and came to help him. It didn't improve Fili's mood. The scholar should have refused, he was having fun, and they both knew that Fili could manage on his own now, if he really had to.

“You seem to like that Legolas,” Fili noted as they walked toward his room.

“'sppose I do.”

“I think he likes you too. He kept talking to you.”

“Not many dwarves talk Sindarin, and he's not really used to Westron, that's all. And... I think he's really intrigued by us. By dwarves, I mean. Never really saw any of us before his father imprisoned us. Thranduil always kept him away from... well, everything that could appear to be dangerous.”

“Bit like your brothers did to you, then,” Fili said. “Guess you two have that in common.”

Ori stopped, suddenly tense.

“Are you trying to imply something here? What, you think I want to... to jump him, to run away with that elf, just because he's sort of kind to me, and we both have an overprotective family? Is that really the opinion you have of me?”

“What? No, I just...”

“You just what, exactly?” Ori snapped. “You think I'll get over Kili that easily? You think I loved him so little that I'll take the first person who treats me... well, like a person? It's bad enough that everyone think I'll have forgotten him in a year or so, just because we had so little time together, but I didn't expect you to... to... to think what I had with your brother was nothing.” The young dwarf was sobbing then, and Fili realized that, in two years, it was only the second time he'd seen him cry. Ori usually hide his tears. But not this time.

“I loved him! It still love him! He was mine, and I was his, and we were supposed to stay together until the end, but now he's dead and everyone tells me to move on. Even you do it now! I thought you understood, but you don't, you're like the others! You don't get it what it's like for me, you've had them both your whole life! But me, I met them on that quest, I had a few weeks with them, and they became the most important people in my life, and before I could even start properly knowing them, they were gone, and I... I... Mahal, I can't stand it anymore, I don't even know why I keep trying, why I, why I, why I don't... jump into the lake?”

His sobs grew louder, until he could no longer speak, and it scared Fili. Ori wasn't supposed to snap. He was supposed to be quiet and to endure things and to be there for Fili when things were bad. But of course, maybe that just meant that it was the young king's turn to be there for him. So Fili put his arm around Ori's shoulder, and pulled him closer until the younger dwarf's head was against his chest.

“'M so jealous of you,” the scholar whispered. “You had them for so long. You've had so many memories with them. Me... I don't have much, and maybe everyone's right, maybe I'll forget them, and it's the most awful thing I can think of.”

“You won't forget them,” Fili promised, kissing his hair without realizing it. “I'll be there to tell you everything you'll need to know, if you forget. And I'll tell you all the things you didn't have time to learn. We'll remember them. Together.”

Ori raised his head then, his eyes red and still full of tears, but a small smile on his lips. A real smile, not just Fili being sure that, deep down, his friend was maybe sort of smiling.

Maybe that was why he kissed him.

Or maybe he was just lonely, and missing Dwalin more than ever.

In any case, Ori didn't resist, though he didn't exactly participated either. Fili didn't expect him to, not after what he had just said.

“You are nothing like your brother,” Ori murmured when the young king pulled away. But this time, it didn't hurt as much as before. It was not an accusation, Fili realized. Just the statement of a fact.

They did not talk of that kiss again, and nothing changed. Except Fili started asking questions during the councils, about how cold it was during winters, and had it always been that bad in the past, or was the dragon responsible for it. And when Balin admitted that maybe it wasn't that bad in the past, Fili suggested that someone should be appointed to find out where the problem was, so that they could solve it.

And Ori started knitting again, after that council. He made a scarf for Fili, one that was similar yet slightly different from those he had made for Dwalin and Kili, during their quest. It was warm and nice, and it made the young king feel less alone, somehow.

Their third kiss was, again, on the anniversary of the battle. It was Fili again who initiated it after they had, again, left the feast before everyone else. He wasn't sure why he did it. He had just wanted to, really, and it had been so long since he had wanted something he could have that he hadn't resisted the impulse. Ori didn't complain, and even kissed him back this time.

“You are...”

“Nothing like my brother. I know.”

“It's not a bad thing.”

“I know that too.”

Ori had smiled, and had helped Fili undress before leaving him for the night.

The following year was a difficult one. The goblins were starting to roam the mountains again, and an alliance had to be made with the elves to protect the area, a suggestion of the young king. Fili himself couldn't go to battle, not with only one arm, but Nori, whom he had appointed as the new head of his Guards, did very well. It amused the king and Ori a lot to think that the most dishonest dwarf of all Ered Luin was now the most honourable one in Erebor.

Neither of them was surprised when they kissed again on the fourth anniversary of the battle. It was becoming a bit of a habit, really. Fili rather liked it. Ori was a nice kisser, nicer than he expected from one so young, and who had only been involved with one person. When he commented on it, the little scholar had laughed.

“I had kissed other people before Kili,” he admitted shyly. “When I was still learning with my master. He had two other apprentices, and we got bored sometimes.”

“Are you telling me my brother was the third dwarf you've kissed in your life?”

“He knew,” Ori immediately assured him, blushing and looking worried. “And, well. Technically. Second dwarf.”

“But you said...”

“One of my master's apprentices was a an elf. And I might have been a bit drunk that day, too, so there's that.”

Fili had laughed, and kissed him again. They kissed several time, in fact, until Ori decided it was time to go to bed. Fili almost wanted to ask him to stay, to sleep with him. Just that, just sleeping. Just to not be alone again.

But he didn't, and instead he just wished Ori a good night.

The orcs were still causing problems, and so what had been a temporary alliance became a permanent system. Dwarves, elves and humans worked together to defend their lands. Fili was rather proud of himself. He still hated being king, and he still hated Erebor, but it felt rather nice, knowing he was making a difference. And Balin was proud of him. The whole company was proud of him, in fact. And that was nice too.

To Fili's joy, Ori was keeping busy too. Finally, after months, years of trying, the young king had convinced his friend to start writing again.

“I don't even know what had could write about!” Ori had protested at last. “I have no inspiration.”

“Write about us,” Fili suggested. “Write about Dwalin, and Kili. I remember you saying you were afraid you'd forget them. But if you put them on paper, they'll be there for ever, won't they?”

“I'm not sure I can. It's... I don't think I can. Not about them. Never about them. It'd hurt too much.”

“For me? Do it for me,” Fili begged. “I miss them as much as you, but I don't have the words to make them immortal. You do. You're the only one who can do this. Do it for me, for them?”

Ori had looked at him a strange way, before he nodded.

“Very well. For you. Not because you're my king, mind. But because you're my friend. The only one I have left.”

The young king had smiled, and he could have kissed the little scholar then.

He didn't, of course. They didn't kiss, unless it was the anniversary of the battle. It was the rule. Not that they had ever actually talked about that, of course. It was just something they did, and that Fili enjoyed more than he should have. He was still in mourning, for Mahal's sake. He was in mourning of the husband he'd never been able to marry, and there he was, dreaming of kissing his fiancé's best friend, who had been his own brother's fiancé.

It just wasn't right.

But right or not, they kissed again on the night of the anniversary. Though this time, it was Ori who did the first step. But Fili was the one to suggest they spent the night together. Just sleeping, the young king promised, and Ori had sniggered, answering that he knew that.

“If you wanted a quick fuck, you wouldn't have come to me,” he laughed. “Not with the every single girl in the kingdom dreaming of warming your bed.”

Fili had laughed back.

When morning had arrived, Ori woke up before Fili, and he was dressed and ready to leave by the time the young time opened his eyes.

“Leaving already? I feel used, Ori.”

“Yes, and you'll feel the object of every piece of gossip in the mountain if I'm still here when everyone else wakes up.”

“They all think we're lovers already, you know,” Fili sighed. “And they are going to talk, no matter what we do. I don't see the point in hiding anything, especially when there's nothing to hide.”

Ori froze, his hand on the door. “Would you prefer that there was something to hide?” the scholar asked, without turning to face Fili.

The question left the young king voiceless, and before he could even start thinking about what that was supposed to mean, Ori had left.

It was a quiet year, thank the Maker for that, because Fili was in no state to think about anything other than Ori, and whatever it was that was going on between them.

They kissed, that he knew. And they enjoyed each other's company, that much was clear too. There had been a time when Ori had just been his lover's friend, and his brother's lover, but now the young king saw him as his friend. Probably. You didn't kiss friends. You didn't ask them to spend the night with you.

And that had happened again, after that first night. Ori had admitted one day that it had been the first night since the battle where he hadn't been plagued by nightmares. Fili had immediately insisted that they try again, just to see if there was any link between the absence of bad dreams and the king's bed. As it turned out, there was. And despite Ori's initial reluctance, Fili had convinced him to turn that into a regular thing.

“Why have you never told me about your nightmares?” Fili asked one morning.

They were both lying in bed, side by side, close enough to touch, should they want to. But they never seemed to want to, or at least they never dared to do it if they wanted it.

“Didn't think it was important,” Ori explained. “I started having them long before the battle, to be honest, but they'd go away when I was with Kili or my brothers.”

“What do you mean, you had them before? What did you dream of?”

Ori shivered. “Of falling. Ever since... that first meeting with Azog, and the trees, and... if the eagles hadn't arrived. I used to dream of that, again and again. I still do. But now I also see... I see Dwalin during the battle, and Kili... Kili when I was trying to heal him...” Fili took Ori's hand in his, but the younger dwarf didn't appear to notice it and went on. “I dream of you, too. You almost died. I was there, you know. When... when they realized that they had to amputate you. I was there, and Dwalin was dead, and Kili was dying, and so were you, and I had nothing. I dream of that. I dream of what would have happened, if you had died too.”

“You would have been okay,” Fili whispered, squeezing the other's hand lightly. Ori had not even wanted him to live, back then. And these had been words of anger, certainly, but there had been some truth to it, he was certain of it.

“You're stronger than you think,” the young king added. “I think you could lose everything, and still go on bravely, helping everyone around you.”

Ori moved closer, until his head was against Fili's shoulder, their hands still linked.

“You don't know that,” Ori protested, but there was no heat to his voice.

“Oh, I do. Because you've already done it.”

The sixth anniversary came and went away without anything special happening. But Fili mentally noted that, really, Ori was a very, very good kisser, and if that was what you got for snogging elves, maybe he should try it. But that idea did not linger long. He'd take the small scholar's kisses over anyone else's.

The alliance of the three races against goblins worked well, Erebor was on its way to regain its former glory, and Balin wanted Fili to marry and have babies.

“It's been six years, lad. My brother would understand, and the throne needs and heir. I'm not even asking you to fall in love, just do your duty, for the kingdom.”

“Dain has three children, and two grandchildren. The throne can pass to one of them, can't it?”

Balin frowned. “It wouldn't be the same. The people like you, lad, though sometimes I can't see why, since you certainly don't return the feeling. But still, they want your flesh and blood to remain after you. They could... understand, I'm sure, if you decided to announce that you have a lover, a male lover...”

“I don't.”

“Then find yourself a nice lass, and make some babies with her. Maybe that will finally have you stop brooding like your uncle.”

Fili had not deigned to answer.

To his surprise and horror, Ori agreed with Balin.

“You deserve to be happy,” the young dwarf had explained with a sad smile. “And being married probably won't do that for you, but I've seen you around children. You're good with them, and they're good for you. And don't you want a little one to take care of?”

No, I want you, Fili thought suddenly.

It hit him like a blow to the stomach. It was the worse possible thing ever he could want. He wasn't meant to like Ori, not that way, not with their shared history. It wasn't right. It was the very opposite of right. It was the most insulting thing he could do to the other dwarf, the worse possible betrayal of both their lovers.

But the Maker help him, he wanted him.

That year, when the anniversary of the battle arrived, Fili had a dozen excuses ready to sent Ori back to his own dwellings. The young king felt that he hadn't betrayed the change in his feelings yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he did something stupid, and then he would lose Ori for good. He couldn't stand that idea.

But in the end, he was too attached to their little tradition of spending that precise night together, and so he let Ori guide him back to his bedroom. But when the other dwarf moved to kiss him, as was usual, Fili panicked and pushed him away. He wanted it to much for it to be safe. If Ori touched him, he would know.

The look on the younger dwarf's face was one of pure hurt and betrayal, and Fili instantly regretted what he had done. He pulled Ori closer, asking for forgiveness between two kisses, but it was too late.

Ori did not stay with him that night.

Fili's bed had never been colder and lonelier, and knowing the dwarf he cared for was alone too, and fighting nightmares, did nothing to help.

Things were tense after that with Ori, and the young dwarf did not sleep with him nearly as often as before. It took Fili a lot of convincing to make it appear like he had just drunk a little bit too more that night, that he had never meant to hurt his friend. He knew Ori didn't believe a word of it, but the scholar still pretended he did. Probably didn't want to talk about it. They never talked about what happened on the night of the anniversary. It was one of the rules. The rules which they never talked about either.

Fili wondered sometimes what the others would have done. It was easy to guess for Kili: his brother had never been one for secrets, and he would have forced a discussion right after the first kiss. But of course, Kili would probably never have kissed his dead brother's lover in the first place.

It was more difficult to imagine what Dwalin would have done. There were many things about him that Fili had never known, things the warrior had promised he would say later, when they would have time and would be free of the pressures of their quest. But the young King knew this at least: he had not been the other dwarf's first love, there had been others. Had they died or just left him behind, that would remain a mystery, but Dwalin might have understood what it felt like to start wanting another, even though you had believed your heart to be broken. Still, Dwalin had been brave, both in war and out of it. Had he fallen in love again, he wouldn't have hidden from his feelings, but he'd have gone to the one he wanted and he would have told them. Fili didn't have that courage, and he despised himself for it.

At least, there was enough work to distract him. There had been problems in some of the lower mines, the tunnels there were highly unstable sometimes, and needed to be consolidated. There were also treaties to be made with the humans, so that farms were built on dwarven territories that would give every year a certain part of their products to Erebor as payment for their lands. Another idea he was rather proud of, though to be honest he had stolen it from a book about hobbit culture that Bilbo had sent him for his birthday.

For the eighth anniversary of the battle, Fili barely managed to convince Ori to take him back to his room, as the young dwarf objected that he didn't actually need him. The king assured him that he had drunk too much to walk alone, that he didn't trust his balance, that he would get lost.

As soon as the bedroom's door had closed behind them, Fili had pushed Ori against the wall to kiss him as if it were a matter of life or death. The scholar lips were intoxicating, soft and firm all at once, waiting only to be touched and bitten and licked, and so Fili did exactly that, eliciting soft moans from the other dwarf. It was without a doubt the most impassioned kisses they had shared so far, and Fili kept coming back for more. He knew it was his only chance to touch the one he wanted. The rest of the year Ori was his friend and nothing more, but that night, that special night, Ori was his entirely.

And he knew it was awful of him to use what should have been a moment of remembrance and mourning to touch someone who would never have allowed it otherwise. But life hadn't been very king to him, he felt, and he was more than allowed to be a selfish bastard once in a while.

Another year came. Fili was getting used to being king, and once in a while, he caught himself thinking that Erebor wasn't such a bad place, in the end. He still hated him for claiming the lives of two of the people he had valued the most, but seeing all these dwarves around him so happy, feeling like they belonged somewhere again, like they had a place to call their own and where they could raise their children safely... maybe it hadn't all been in vain after all. He was particularly glad to see that the rest of the company was doing rather well, and that they had all found their place in life, at last.

The one thing that prevented him from really enjoying it all was that Ori wasn't around as much as before. Dori and Balin had decided together that he needed to help with what was left of the library, and in particular that he should hurry to copy the books that had been damaged during Smaug's rule, lest time should finish what the dragon had started. It must have been a lot of work, for it left the young scholar exhausted every night, and more than once Fili had to undress on his own, Ori having crashed onto their bed and fallen asleep as soon as he had been back.

It was all very domestic, and Fili liked that. It almost felt like they were an old couple sometimes, except for the part where they weren't a couple at all, of course.

But then, as autumn approached, Nori once asked to talk to him in private, about personal matters. They did that often. It usually was a code for “there is someone around you I don't trust, but I don't want them to know it yet so make everyone leave that we may talk in peace”. But not this time. This time, Nori really had personal matters to discuss, concerning Ori and his relationship with the king.

“I'm not sure I would call it a relationship,” Fili carefully protested. “We are only friend, as I am sure he must have told you.”

“A friend whose bed he shares, and so often that most of his things are in your apartments rather than his. I'm sure you must have felt very discreet the two of you, but I've got ears and eyes everywhere. That's what you pay me for, after all.”

“It's not... like that. I've never... we've never done anything improper. I'd never touch him, I can swear that. He... he was Kili's, you know.”

“I know,” Nori said. “He told me once. He'd had a nightmare. He has them often enough, and that one was about your brother.”

“He told me about these, yes. That's... that's why he sleeps with me, you see. He doesn't have any bad dreams when he's with me. And I can promise you, that is all that is going on. I care too much for your brother to ever do anything that might hurt him.”

“That's part of the problem, I suppose,” Nori grumbled gloomily. “Mahal help us, you're no better than your uncle sometimes.”

That careless remark hurt Fili more than he would have liked to admit. After all that had happened, after all that his uncle's greed had cost them, being compared to him felt like being stabbed. If anyone but a member of their company had tried it, Fili would have... well, he wouldn't have done anything probably, because death apparently meant you were no longer allowed to hate someone. Which wasn't fair, really, because it wasn't as if being dead magically made you a better person.

But Nori had meant no offence, of course, and he was now carefully observing his young king. Never a good sign, coming from the dwarf, but Fili did his best to pretend the stare didn't make him uncomfortable.

“They'll take him away from you,” Nori said after a while. “They're working at it already, and if you don't do something, they will win.”

“Who will take who from me?”

“Balin and Dori. They think it's unhealthy, and not the way a king should act. That's why they gave him that job in the library, and it was only the first step. He won't talk about it, but I know Balin has plans, and he wants to involve Ori in these, because it will mean separating him from you.”

“Maybe he's right to want that,” Fili replied, thinking of all the things he shouldn't want from Ori. “Honestly, I'm surprised you could be happy to let your brother stay around me. I remember you being quite protective during the quest.”

Nori nodded. “He was a babe, then. But now he's as old as you were when we left Ered Luin, and he's seen enough things to deserved to be treated like an adult. Dori won't see that, he spent too long smothering the lad. And Balin doesn't want you to get over his brother just yet, no matter what he tells everyone. As long as you mourn Dwalin, his memory is still alive. But I think Ori is mature enough to make his own choice, and as soon as you've made yours, there should be no problem.”

“And what choice is that, exactly?”

“Wouldn't be fun if I told you, little king. But think about it hard enough, and you'll find the answer.”

Fili thought about it for days, weeks even, refusing to imagine that Nori could have wanted him to do what he thought he had understood.

Not that it wasn't tempting, the idea of courting Ori, properly courting him. But that meant convincing the small dwarf to accept his feeling in the first place, and thus risking the fragile friendship they had managed to build. And Ori was just starting to get better, it had taken him so long to accept their deaths, to start living for himself again. He had finally dared to open his diary of their travel, for the Maker's sake, Fili couldn't bring chaos in his life again.

Sometimes though, the young king wondered if his attention would really be so unwelcome. Nori was right about one thing: Ori practically lived with Fili already, he even had his own wardrobe and bookshelves in the royal bedroom. And it wasn't rare for the two of them to fall asleep each on a side of the bed, only to awake in each other's arms. Such morning were always difficult for Fili, especially if he somehow woke up first with Ori holding him tightly, as if he were afraid he'd disappear in the night. The small scholar's body was so warm and nice against his, his skin soft to the touch, so different from what Dwalin's had been. He liked that his lost warrior and the scholar were so different, just as much as he liked to discover unexpected similarities between them. For example, Ori was almost as strong as Dwalin had been and, when he was in a mood for it, he had the same sense of humour.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that this could work, one day, with enough time.

But as it turned out, time was one thing he didn't have.

The ninth anniversary of the battle had been... rather nice. Bilbo had come to spend some time with them, and he had arrived just in time for the feast. They had shared stories, old and new. The hobbit had lost all his respectability at home, it seemed, but he didn't mind one bit, and even found it rather amusing. He told Fili and Ori about the troubles he'd had to prove he was alive, and how some of his relatives still refused to admit he was himself.

“That means less presents to give away on my birthday, so I don't really mind,” Bilbo happily said. “And how are things going for you two? Not too hard, being a king?”

“They say I'm not doing too bad a job of it,” Fili said with a grin. “Still not the job I'd have picked if I had had a choice, but fate chose it for me, and I just have to do the best I can.”

“And Ori helps, I suppose,” Bilbo said with a kind smile. Fili turned away, and looked intently at the glass in his hand. There was something in the way the hobbit looked at him and Ori, always with that same smile he had now, so kind and accepting and happy for them. It made Fili feel guilty. If Bilbo, who had been gone for years, could so easily guess his feelings, then all of Erebor must have known of it.

Or maybe not. Their little hobbit had always been rather perceptive of these things, and he'd been the only one to never judge them. Suddenly, Fili decided he needed to talk to Bilbo. Their burglar had always been good at putting things in perspective, and his point of view on things had always been so different from that of a dwarf that he could find solutions where they saw none.

He wasn't even sure what excuse he found to distract Ori and have some time alone with the hobbit, but Bilbo seemed rather suspicious, and asked him if he had anything he wanted to say.

Maybe it was because he hadn't seen the hobbit in a long while, or really just that he needed someone to talk to, more than he had realized. In any case, Fili found himself telling him everything. How much he had loved Dwalin, the pain of losing him, the horror of having to rule a kingdom he hated, and how Ori had been them for him, always there, always patient, until he had become a funding stone in Fili's life. He even told Bilbo about those kisses they shared every year, and how he wanted more of that, more of Ori.

“I know I shouldn't,” he sighed pityfully, looking at his scholar who was talking with Balin. “He was Kili's. And he was Dwalin's best friend. But I want... I want to hold him and kiss him, I want him to smile. He used to smile so much, before, and I miss that. And I want to hear him talking about old legends and stories, like he used to. I want to be here when he's happy, and I want to be here when he's not, to make things better for him. I want to protect him, like I couldn't protect the others, and that no harm ever befall him.”

“You love him,” Bilbo said. It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes, I do love him,” Fili admitted, surprised he had not realized it before. “Mahal, that makes it even worse, doesn't it? It hasn't even been ten years, if I had been married to Dwalin, I would barely have finished the first half of my mourning. I shouldn't be thinking about that, not so soon!”

“But you are, so why fight it? You're not hurting anyone. And I know Kili would want the two of you to get on with your lives, and to be happy. For Dwalin... I didn't get to know him as well, but I don't think you'd have loved a bad person, and no good person would want you to remain lonely and sad for ever.”

“If I told him, I might lose him.”

“If you don't tell him, I think you'll lose him anyway. Don't make my mistake, Fili. Ori isn't Thorin, but don't take any risk. If you want him in your life that badly, you have to let him know, or he might just... disappear.”

Fili nodded. He wasn't even surprised by the implied admittance of the hobbit's feelings for his uncle. The entire company had seen how these two had been together, and they had all expect that once the quest was over, they'd find a way to court, different species or not. A few how them had even taken bets, including Fili.

Fili who suddenly wondered if anyone had been making bets about him and Ori.

If yes, he'd have to find who. There was some money to be made there.

“Tell him,” Bilbo said one last time, as Ori was coming back to them. “Before it's too late, you must tell him.”

After that, the hobbit started a very animated conversation with Ori, about some elfish book they had both read, and that Bilbo was suggesting the other should translate in Westron if he had time. They tried to include Fili, once or twice, but the young dwarf was too busy thinking about what the hobbit's advice. He only started paying attention again when Ori offered him to take him back to his room, since he looked tired.

Neither of them talked on their way there, and even once they were behind closed door, they did not kiss this time. This was it, Fili decided. He had to say something. He had to know if there was any chance that anything could happen, properly happen, with Ori. He opened his mouth to talk, but the small scribe beat him to it.

“I've got something to tell you,” Ori said, looking away. “And you probably won't be too happy with me, I suppose. But... I've been talking to Balin a lot, these days, and he's told me he wanted to attempt to reclaim Khazad Dum, and he offered me to come with him. I'd write down the story of the conquest, make it immortal, as it were.”

“Aren't you already supposed to be writing about us?” Fili protested, refusing to acknowledge the rest yet. “You said you'd make Dwalin and Kili immortal, have you already forgotten that?”

“I can write about them anywhere,” Ori answered with a shrug. “And it's not like... it's not like I have much to keep me here anyway, do I? Things just haven't been the same with my brothers since we arrived in Erebor, and I haven't made any friends at all, and you... let's be honest, you can do fine without me now.”

“No I can't!”

“Yes, you can. You can do everything on your own now, just as well as before, and I know you're still asking me to help so that I have something to do. But I can't keep doing that forever, I have to find my own thing...”

“You have the library!” Fili interrupted urgently. “You have all those books to copy, and you have to tell the story of our quest for Erebor. You can't leave.”

“Fili...”

“I mean it, you can't leave! You'll die if you leave. Others have tried to get back us back to the Moria, and you know how that ended. You've heard Dwalin talk of Azanulbizar, for the Maker's sake, how can you want to join Balin in that foolish idea? You're not even a fighter, you'd be one of the first to fall!”

Ori glared at him. “I thank you for your confidence in my strength, my king. I am touched, I really am.”

“I didn't mean it like that, and you know it. Come on Ori, why would you do this, why? You've got everything you could want here. And if it's adventures you want, I can arrange it, I'll find a way, just... just don't leave me. We need you here. I need you.”

The young scholar smiled sadly at that and, coming near the king, kissed him softly.

“I need you too. That's why I am leaving. We can't go on like that, Fili. I can't go on like that. It's hurting too much, being with you like this, and I'm tired of hurting. I care too much about you to stay with you like this, and...”

“Marry me.”

Ori gasped. “W-wha... Excuse me?”

“Marry me,” Fili repeated, trying to ignore the fact he sounded like he was begging. “I love you. And I don't know if you love me, but I know you care at least, and maybe with time you'll love me, or maybe not, but I'll do my best to make you happy, I'll do everything I can. Please, marry me. Because I can't lose you. I can't, Ori. I just can't.”

“You don't mean that,” Ori whispered, looking in shock. “You can't... why would you ever... Oh, it's not fair of you to ask me that, it just isn't!”

Fili took his hand. “I didn't mean to ask yet. Mahal, I wasn't even sure I'd dare to just suggest courtship at that point. I was just working up my courage to tell you how I felt, to be honest, but this... you're not leaving me any choice.”

“You'd marry me just to stop me from leaving?” There was something of a warning in Ori's voice, and Fili sighed.

“I'd have wanted to marry you anyway,” he said. “In a couple years, after I had courted you nice and proper. You deserve that, and I wanted you to have it. A proper courtship, the traditional way, with learning each other's trade and everything. I'd have wanted that even if you weren't talking of leaving.”

“So why ask me now, then?”

“Because if I don't marry you know, they'll take you away before I even have a chance to make you like me. Which... is... a rather awful way of putting it, I realize. Can we just... pretend I did not say that, and then you wait a moment while I look for an explanation that doesn't make me sound like a creep?”

Ori smirked.

“That certainly wasn't the most romantic way of telling why you want to marry someone, that's for sure. But you've always been rather terrible with proposals. Not that your brother was any better, and yet I accepted him.”

Fili frowned. “You accepted Kili, yeah. But you loved him. And I... I know I'm not him.”

“Of course you're not him,” Ori agreed with a smile. “I've told you often enough, haven't I? You're nothing like your brother. That... that's what I like 'bout you, I suppose.” The young scholar squeezed Fili's hand a little, as if to comfort him. “If Kili was still the only one I wanted, I'd never have let you kiss me, and I'd never have kissed you myself, and I certainly would never have shared my bed with you. I don't know 'bout love, Fili, but I sure like you a lot.”

“Oh. Really?”

Ori rose on his toes and kissed him softly. “Really.” Another kiss. “And since you like me to...” A kiss again, this time more heated. “Then Balin can go to the Moria if he wants, I'm staying with you.”

“Are you sure? Because I can take a no, I really can, and it's okay if you don't want me, and...” His rambling was cut by another kiss, Ori grabbing his braid to pull him down and devouring his mouth until they were both breathless and flushed.

“You are an idiot. And yes, I am sure.”

They spent a good part of the night kissing and talking. Ori managed to persuade Fili that even if Balin disapproved, there was no need to rush their courting, especially since that would displease Dori, a far more terrifying prospect.

“He wanted me to go with Balin, yeah,” Ori admitted, “but only because he thought that going against orcs could never hurt me as much as my... infatuation for you. He's a protective old thing, Dori. But if we do this all nice and proper, he'll be crying tears of happiness at the wedding.”

They also decided that Ori would officially move into Fili's apartment, because as many people had already told them both, he lived there anyway, but that he'd keep his own place, in case they had an argument, or he just needed some time alone.

But more than anything, they agreed that they should take the time to properly know each other, not just as broken people with too many common memories, but as the proud dwarves they were who had managed to fix up the broken bits, one way or another. It would take time, they both knew, but it was worth waiting for.

Little more than a year later, they were getting married.

It wasn't how they had planned it, of course. But when they had announced publicly their intentions to court, it had surprised most people in Erebor to discover that they weren't, in fact, married already. There was a lot of pressure on them after that, and in the end, it was Dori who told them it would be best if they'd just get on with it.

“And if in the end Ori decides he didn't have any feelings of that sort for you, it'll be easy enough to end it,” he'd said with his usual kind smile. “By which I mean, I'll kill you, Fili, because divorce isn't proper, but I can't have my baby brother living with someone he doesn't love.”

They had laughed at that, as if it were a good joke.

Mahal, Ori and Fili really hoped it was a joke.

It was a nice enough wedding, as far as these things went. Dori cried. Balin left before they even exchanged the hair pearls that showed they now belong to each other. Nori drunk, and kept on hitting on Bofur, who didn't seem to notice it, far too busy talking to Bilbo. It meant a lot to Fili that the hobbit had come, and so soon after his other visit too. It helped him forget that his mother hadn't come, using her usual excuse of having to take care of things in Ered Luin. Once, it would have hurt him that she wouldn't come to her own son's wedding, but now it was of little importance. He had a new family now, Ori's, and that was all he could have desired.

It was still awkward, going to bed after the ceremony, knowing they were now properly married. They had never been intimate, no matter what everyone seemed to think, and they had agreed that it wouldn't change until they were both comfortable with the idea.

“D'you think they'd mind?” Ori still asked, cuddling his new husband.

“Mind what? To see us happy? 'Course they wouldn't. I wouldn't mind if I was dead and they were alive. I'd just be glad to see them not being alone.”

Life wasn't always easy. They had bad moments, terrible arguments, and uncertainties. But for every bad time there were two good ones, and Fili felt rather happy, though not much had changed.

He still woke up every morning next to Ori, even when they hadn't managed to see each other in the evening. Ori, naturally an early riser, would stay where he was until his husband was awake, to make sure they'd have kissed and talked at least once each day, even for just a few seconds.

In exchange, Fili made sure that, no matter how busy his schedule, he'd always eat with his husband at least twice a week. Sometimes it just meant grabbing a piece of cheese and some bread, and leaving as soon as he was done, but he always made sure that he actually got that time with Ori.

One thing Fili enjoyed a lot, though he couldn't do it as much as he would have wanted, was watching his husband work. It seemed almost magical to him, the way Ori's quill would bring to life either words or drawings, and transform mere stories into visual masterpieces. He found it as beautiful as any gem, and he could have spent hours like that.

Whenever possible, they would go together in Dale. Officially, they went to buy supplies for Ori's art, because he never was happy with anything bought for him if he wasn't there to check the quality. But really, they just needed a break sometimes, away from the court and the responsibilities. They pretended very hard that they were incognito, though of course, blond dwarves weren't all that common, and blond dwarves with one eye and one arm even less so. Still, the food was good, the beer even more so, and it gave them a couple hours where Fili could pretend he was a normal dwarf.

But their favourite thing, really, was the night when Ori would write about Kili and Dwalin. Such evenings were always special to them. Ori would be sitting at his desk, his quill going fast on the paper as he tried to capture everything Fili was telling him, adding here and there a few anecdotes of his own. It almost felt like the other two were still there in a way, like it was the four of them once again, as things were meant to be. It should have hurt, thinking about the lovers and friends they had lost, but on these nights, it never did.

Life was not all love and memories, of course. Dark powers were at play in the world, orcs were a constant threat, and a few decades after the reconquest of Erebor, an army of Easterling came and attacked Dale and Erebor. There was a great battle then, costing many lives, but they managed to win in the end, though it was a close thing.

Ori came to be hurt, though Fili had instructed him to not take part in the battle in any way. That was the source of the greatest argument they ever had, thought they did make up in the end, after Fili admitted that king or not, he could not forbid his husband of doing his duty as a dwarf.

“You can't protect me against everything,” Ori said after, kissing him tenderly. “You've got to trust me sometimes.”

“I do trust you. It's the rest of the universe I have issues with.”

A few years after the Battle of Dale, Nori became a father, to the great joy of Ori and Fili. Their small niece was the most adorable little dwarfling they had ever seen, and they both doted on her, spoiling her terribly. But she was a sweet little thing, and with her mother and Dori to bring a little authority to her life, she soon grew up to be the nicest little princess Erebor had ever known.

Her birth also served to remind the royal couple that one day, the kingdom would need an heir to the throne, a child of royal blood. They hesitated for a while about what they should do. Ori suggested they did it the natural way, with Fili finding a woman willing to help, but the king had little taste for that method. He had sacrificed enough for his kingdom, and having to share his body with someone he did not care for was too much.

In the end, after long negotiations, they adopted Dain Ironfoot's youngest daughter, a fierce little dwarfling with a quick brain and an even quickest tongue. They both liked her very much, and she simply adored them. It wasn't easy for her to leave her family and come to Erebor, but she still managed to find her place, and seemed quite happy there. She soon adopted Nori's daughter as her sister, and together they made a terrifying team. It reminded Fili of his youth with Kili to see these two little dwarflings doing mischief all around, though the princes had never quite managed to have everyone wrapped around their finger like the two girls did.

Ori was 230 when he fell ill, and it soon became clear it was a sickness he would not survive. It was not an old age for a dwarf, but the scholar had had a fuller life than many older than him, and he had no regrets. So he told Fili, anyway.

“I'll be seeing them again soon,” Ori said one day with a weak smile. Only a week or two more, the healers said. “Then we'll wait for you, the three of us, but don't join us too quickly. We can wait, and Dais is still a bit young to become queen.”

“You can't die, Ori, it's too early. I don't want you to die.”

Ori laughed weakly. “I'd be rather cross if you wanted me to die, you know.”

Fili snorted. “Terribly moment to be joking, love. I'm trying to be dramatic and emotional here, in case you hadn't noticed.”

“I had noticed, sadly. Have I ever told you how terrible you are at being emotional?”

“With Thorin as a role model, I think I did rather well, actually,” Fili protested softly, kissing his husband's brow. “I could... ask for an elf healer to come, you know. Maybe they would have a cure. Something to keep you alive a few more year.”

“It's a tumour, Fili. You know even elves don't have a cure for that. You'll have to be strong. For Dais, and for Giri, and for everyone else. Be strong. Be a good king. And don't cry too much, because someday, we'll be together again, the four of us, and that's something to look forward to, isn't it?”

Fili nodded, holding back tears. “I'll miss you, Ori. I'll miss you so much. I love you.”

“And I love you to. I never said it enough, I'm sorry. But I do love you. Even though you're about as romantic as a dead troll, and you snore terribly.”

“Like you're any better. Now sleep, love. You need all the rest you can get.”

Ori died nine days later.

It was different from when he had lost Kili and Dwalin, though. There had only been despair then, despair and loneliness and the horror of knowing he still have his whole life before him. But this time, he had a family around him, Nori and his wife, their little Giri who didn't cry because she was trying so hard to console Dais and Fili.

It was still hard on him, but he wasn't alone, and he knew he'd join Ori, Dwalin and Kili some day.

Fili spent the following years preparing Dais for her future duty as a queen. She loved Erebor, more than he could ever have, and he was sure she would be a better ruler than him.

He was 264 when he died in his sleep. He didn't feel a thing. One moment he was in his bed, falling asleep, and the next he opened his eyes to see Ori before him, looking as young as he had when they had taken back Erebor, a shy smile on his lips.

“So that's it, then,” Fili said, smiling too. “It wasn't half as bad as I thought it would be.”

Ori kissed him. “Death can be a good thing when you're old and tired.”

“Why are you alone, though? You didn't find them?”

At that idea, Fili felt panic rise in him, but Ori shook his head and took his hands to calm him (two hands, Fili noted, and two eyes too. Being dead had its perks)

“There somewhere around,” Ori told him. “I just... didn't dare to look for them. Not alone. I thought it'd be nice to go to them together.”

“Together, then.”

And they started walking.

It didn't take long to find Kili and Dwalin (who was younger than Fili had ever known him, the dead king noted appreciatively. That mowhak looked good on him). They must have been searching for them too, and they too were holdings hands, a shy smile on their face.

“Didn't think you'd be here so soon,” Kili said, trying to avoid Ori's eyes. “Thought it'd be another century or two before you came.”

“Not that we're not happy to have ye back,” Dwalin added. “We just hoped ye'd have longer to live.”

“We've had long enough,” Fili assured him, caressing his long lost lover's cheek. “We have so many stories to tell you, and all of eternity to share them.”

“You still want us then?” Kili asked, taking Ori's free hand. “Even though you have each other now?”

“It's the four of us or nothing,” Ori answered. “It has always been, and it always will be.”

The End