Chapter Text
They had been on the road for one week - which was very exciting for King Thorin’s two young nephews who had never been away from home this long or far.
It was less so for the dwarven king who could have never guessed the high level of exhaustion and exasperation one could attain when in charge of a pair of relentless teenage dwarrows with endless reserves of energy who suddenly had the wider world as their playground.
As the Ered Luin delegation departed from their mountain kingdom at the beginning of said week Princess Dís had stood at the gates long after the traveling noises faded into the distance and watched the shrinking silhouettes of her sons and older brother. Thorin had expected her to be in a subdued and worried mood but found her with a brilliant smile instead.
Was it really only a fortnight ago that the dwarrowdam had marched into the royal family room and told Thorin that the diplomatic training of her sons had been neglected for far too long? It did not take much to ignite his guilty conscience - after all, it was he who years ago had insisted against her wishes that his sister sons would become the heirs to their throne and kingdom. Even if said kingdom had been reduced to a shadow of one that had once been called one of the most powerful kingdoms in Middle Earth.
Erebor.
Smaug’s rain of fire decimated the grand empire and left a pitifully small number of survivors forever traumatized by the fiery deaths of their loved ones. Although quite a few of the royal family had managed to flee except for Thorin and Dis' mother and grandmother this was only a temporary blessing: King Thror (their grandfather), their father Thrain and brother Frerin perished a mere few years later along with far too many others as they defended their people against orcs and other predators during the long and treacherous journey across Middle Earth, poor and starving, desperate to find a place that would allow them a chance to rebuild their lives.
The duty to see to the survival of their remaining people fell upon Thorin and Dis, and when they finally found refuge in the Blue Mountain, it was Dís who met and married her One, a local dwarrow who had been one of the first to welcome and harbour the former Ereborians. As she settled into bearing the Durin's next generation Thorin remained singularly focused on his duty as king. He thought it an excellent idea when his advisor Balin suggested making his oldest sister son Fíli his heir apparent and to add his brother Kíli to the line of succession when he was born a few years later.
Sadly, these days he spent a lot more time wondering if the kingdom would be able to withstand the destructive forces of his nephews.
Kíli and Fíli sat atop their ponies with matching toothy smiles, wearing their duty with a calm confidence that made their uncle swell up with pride. They had faced the separation from their mother with an unexpected maturity, and he had breathed a sigh of relief that the “princes of chaos” were finally showing signs of growing up.
His captain of the guard and close friend Dwalin had scrutinized the young dwarrows’ states before their departure and sent his king a short satisfied nod.
Thorin sighed. That idyllic feeling had lasted only until first camp.
As the traveling party came to stop for the day, Kíli and Fíli dutifully gathered Thorin’s and their own ponies and led them to their designated resting and feeding area but it was only a short while later when the rascals took off and tore into the woods. Their uncle shook his head with a resigned sigh.
The dwarven leader knew that he had been far more responsible and serious when he was of the same age but he never begrudged them their innocence at 25 and 29, not when his own young carefree and joyous life was crushed too soon by a drake named Smaug.
“Dwalin! Leave them be,” he said to his best friend who was glaring in the direction of where the two princes had disappeared. “I’ll go after them. Make sure that the camp is properly secured.” The warrior dwarrow scowled and mumbled something that he pretended not to hear before stomping off and barking orders at his soldiers.
“Your Majesty.”
Thorin turned around and found himself looking at his chamberlain and his younger brother. “What is it, Dori?”
“Would you like me to send Ori to retrieve your two nephews?” He leaned in conspiratorially, “After all, you asked me to bring him along in the hopes that his calm and quiet manners may temper their recklessness....”
“I did. But ...” Thorin’s expression turned sheepish, “I don’t think it is a good idea to leave your brother alone with them quite yet. Perhaps later into our journey.” The king shot a dubious look at the young dwarrow scholar who was scribbling intently in his small notebook. “After we arrive at our destination. Until then I think either you or I need to keep an eye on all three of them."
“Certainly, Your Majesty. Let me assure you that Ori will be more than happy to take the two younger dwarrows under his wings once we are in the Shire. He’s brought all the books that he could find on hobbits and their culture and looks forward to sharing his historical knowledge.” Dori beamed with pride at his brother who at 34 could still easily pass as Kíli’s younger brother despite the extra nine years in age.
Thorin doubted that the two young princes would be enthusiastic over history and books but he nodded nevertheless and dismissed them with a smile before he walked towards his advisor. “Balin, I will be right back. I need to retrieve Fíli and Kíli from wherever they have taken off to.”
“Shall I tell Dwalin to see to the task?”
“I asked him to take charge of the camp. I don't need your brother or any other guards to accompany me for this.” And before he had to listen to Balin’s lengthy lecture on the importance of keeping a king safe at all times he added, “You may send them after me if I do not return within the next 15 minutes.”
“My King,” Balin began but Thorin cut him off, “Yes, and when I get back with those two, we will sit down and go over tomorrow's schedule and review the topics that we shall discuss with the Thain. I want my nephews to start learning about their royal responsibilities.”
“I agree fully.” Balin bowed and watched Thorin go off into the woods\.
If there was one skill that dwarrows were known for, sneaking around quietly would not be the one: Thorin had no trouble picking out the location of his nephews by following the increasing titters of his sister sons until he stood below them. Their bodies were well hidden from sight but their chortles were as clear as the tremolo calls of a loon on a still lake.
The dwarrow soundlessly leaned in and looked up into the tree's foliage. “Rule number one...” he stated in a loud sonorous voice and heard a louder rustling of the leaves, as if a few hands were grasping branches and trying not to fall off.“Always be silent enough so that you can scan your environment for any possible threats.”
“Awww, but we know it’s you, uncle.” Kíli hollered from the tree top. “We have sight on the camp and everything nearby so if anything dangerous approaches, we will know before anyone else.”
Thorin pretended to consider the argument. He quietly picked up a few cones that lay scattered on the ground while he continued, “have you considered how you would warn us about said danger all the way from up there?” At the end of the sentence he whipped the pine cones up into the tree with force and precision.
“Ouch!” There was more rustling, and then two aggrieved boys scooted down the tree. “That’s not fair!”
“What’s not fair?” The older dwarrow blinked with complete innocence.
“You distracted us.” Fíli and Kíli complained and checked their bottoms for cone pieces.
Thorin chuckled. “I suppose I did.” He let his gaze and tone turn serious.“ Let this be a reminder that you still have much to learn. As princelings you have a responsibility to act with a level of decorum, to respect your elders, act humble and show your future subjects that you are capable of learning and growing into your roles.”
“Yes, Uncle Thorin.” mumbled the two.
“What did you say?”
“Yes, my King.” the two princes hastened to modify.
“Very well, my sister sons.” He ruffled their hairs and slung an arm around each shoulder to pull them towards him. “Let’s return to the camp and help with the dinner, you scamps. And after dinner, you’ll ask for another lesson with Dwalin and Balin.”
He immediately regretted making the last statement as their walk back to the camp and most of the dinner was spent listening to his nephews trying to wheedle their way out of the lesson, using some of the most outrageous and elaborate reasons he had ever been privy to hear. After receiving far too many looks of pity from his entourage and countless “glad it’s not me” smirks, he firmly turned his back to all of them and retreated into his bedroll, wondering if he had been too confident of his child rearing abilities.
The image of his sister at the gates came to him unbidden and with it, the sudden realization that he may have had fallen victim to a clever scheme.