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“Sit.” Thorin’s hand pressed hard on Fili’s shoulder, dropping him down by the front corner of the meeting house. “Do not move. Do not speak to anyone. Do you understand?”
Fili nodded quickly, squinting up at where his uncle’s form was obscured by the morning sun behind him. He could make out Thorin’s arm snagging the back of Kili’s tunic as he attempted to run. “Watch after him.” He propelled Kili into a seated position beside him. Balin offered both boys a quick smile before entering through the door. Thorin made to follow but paused long enough to point a stern finger at the pair. “And Kili, mind your brother.”
Kili huffed but thankfully settled down to pout rather than make another ill-fated attempt at freedom. Around them, the waking Port of Forlond prepared for its daily business. Soon, vendors arrived to set up their booths in the open air market across the way. Kili sat up, sulk forgotten as he watched with rapt attention. Slowly, the streets filled, though no one paid much mind to the Dwarflings in the corner by the meeting house.
With little else to do, Fili fiddled with the ring on the pointer finger of his right hand, twisting it first one way and then the other. He was still adjusting to the weight of it. The thick band of silver nearly covered the second knuckle of his finger, stopping just below the joint. Intricate geometric shapes in gold overlaid the silver, both metals twisting in the center to form a housing for an incredibly cut emerald, the seven faceted gem catching the sunlight and scattering it whenever he moved the ring.
Thorin had not wanted him to have the ring. As an heirloom of the house of Durin, its worth was staggering, made more so by the fact that the last wearer of the ring had been Thorin’s little brother, Frerin. Understandably, Thorin guarded the ring zealously but Dis had overruled his objections, claiming that if Fili was old enough to accompany Thorin on this journey to Forlond, he was old enough to wear the ring. So it was under Thorin’s reluctant and disapproving gaze that Fili had accepted the ring from his mother. Afterwards, Thorin had pulled him aside and made him swear solemnly that he would take care whenever he wore it. A vow Fili did not have to be told to make. Even at twenty-six, he understood the importance of such an object. Fili would not treat it as a toy. He knew it to be much more than a mere trinket. The ring to Thorin was a symbol of their kingdom, of their family, and Fili respected it as such.
When the sun climbed higher, Fili shifted them from direct sunlight into the shade of the building. Kili roused at the change and became insufferable, refusing to sit still. So Fili allowed him to stand. And when he would no longer stand in one place, Fili allowed him to climb the outer posts of the door. And when Kili grew dissatisfied with that, Fili allowed him to walk up to the edge of the thoroughfare. But not for long, as the bustling crowd made Fili nervous and the distance between it and Thorin’s appointed waiting spot could be considered rebellious.
Kili ducked and dodged but Fili caught hold of him in the end, dragging him back to their assigned position. Kili was not happy with the arrangement and made his displeasure known. He whined and tugged on Fili’s hair and squirmed and complained. Fili, worn down and not enjoying the situation any more than him, finally suggested that they go to the market. Only for a moment, as Thorin’s direction had left little allowance for roaming.
The smile that took over Kili’s entire face made it worth the risk of discovery as they darted across the road. Wandering through the stalls brought temptations Fili had not anticipated however. Apples, melons, carrots, and tomatoes gleamed in the sunshine. Spiced meats filled the air with exotic scents. Piles of fish and pots of roasted nuts taunted them as they passed. Fili’s stomach rumbled and he looked longingly at the rounds of cheese. Kili’s hand on his coat pulled him from his daydreams.
“Can we get something?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No, Kili.”
“But I’m hungry.” Kili’s eyes narrowed. “And you are too.”
“Am not.”
“Yes, you are. I can hear your stomach.”
Fili, irritated at being caught out, pulled his coat from Kili’s grip. “It doesn’t matter. We need to get back.”
“Not without something to eat.” Kili stamped his foot.
“Yes. We’re going now and we better hurry before we’re missed.” Fili took Kili’s hand and his brother let out a shriek.
The people around them turned to stare and Fili instantly dropped his hand, blushing. “Kili, stop that. You are not a babe.”
“I’m hungry,” Kili repeated. “And I’ll scream again if you try it!”
Huffing out a frustrated breath, Fili glanced around. “Fine. Will an apple suffice?”
“I want that.” Kili pointed to a stall stocked with bread loaves.
“Why not an apple?” Kili shook his head and opened his mouth to shriek again. “Fine!” Fili grudgingly fished out the meager coin he had in his pocket and gave it to Kili, who bounded over to the stall eagerly. He came back a moment later, a hunk of bread in hand, chewing, with honey dripping down his fingers.
“You bought honey too?”
Kili grinned. “She gave it to me. Said I was adorable.”
Rolling his eyes, Fili plucked the bread from him. He tore off a bit to satisfy him as they made their way back to the meeting house. His own bite turned sour as he imagined Thorin already finished with his business and waiting with crossed arms and an angry glower. Worried by the prospect, Fili set a hurried pace back, much to Kili’s irritation. However, there was no disappointed Dwarf waiting on them. The meeting house stoop was empty.
Relieved, Fili propped his back against the wall, splitting the remaining bread between them, and resolving not to move again. Kili finished his meal in relative silence before climbing the door posts again. However, his full belly and the afternoon heat soon drove him to pillow his head on his brother’s leg for a nap. Fili drifted too, though he refused to surrender to sleep completely.
Kili woke when the sun started its downward path. His energy had returned with vigor and Fili’s resolve to stay put waned with every passing moment. The vendors at the market gradually put away their wares and closed their shops. Without the distraction, Kili pressed Fili to go to the docks. They had seen the docks only briefly on their way into the town, when they crested the hill leading to it. The sight of so many large boats had enthralled Kili and he’d been begging to go there since. Thorin immediately forbade the idea whenever it was brought up. He wouldn’t give a reason but Fili could see the intensity in his eyes as he warned them away. Sneaking off to the market was a harmless bit of fun, but going to the docks would be a direct violation, with dire consequences. Thorin’s intensity had given Fili a sense of foreboding and he refused to give in, no matter how Kili pleaded. Used to getting his way eventually, Kili retaliated with more hair pulling, even going so far as to yank one of Fili’s braids loose, an offense that couldn’t be ignored. Fili swatted Kili upside the head, which led to a short tussle and then sitting in separate corners as they licked their wounds.
The sound of music on the wind reunited them. Kili bounced up to him, excited, and with only a single glance back at the meeting house to ensure Thorin wasn’t on his way out, Fili took his hand and they raced down the street. The crowd grew thicker as they came closer to the source of the music. When they reached the town square, they stopped to gape at the sights around them. Acrobatics flew between flag-topped poles. Jugglers handled torches like playthings. Masked men and women sat on the erected stage, playing strange instruments.
Close by, a group broke into cheers. Drawn by the commotion, Fili went over, Kili in tow. They shoved their way through until they were able to see a man at a table, moving a set of upside bowls around at great speed. A woman stood in front of the table and when the man stopped moving, she pointed to the bowl on the right. He lifted it to reveal nothing underneath. At the woman’s disappointed sigh, he lifted the center bowl to reveal a bead. The crowd laughed, the woman handed the man a coin, then moved away, while another took her spot. Fili watched with rapt attention as the man’s hands flashed, the bowls swooping and gliding across the tabletop as easily as fish through water.
“Fili. Fili. Fili.”
Another tap. Another reveal. Applause and a new player.
“Fili. Fili. Fili. Fili. Fili.”
Fast hands and swimming bowls.
“Filiiiiii.”
Fili snapped, “What?”
“Can we go to the docks now?”
“What? No, this is amazing!”
“I want to see the boats.”
“Thorin forbade it.” Fili peered past the edges of the gathered group. “But if you will not watch this, perhaps you will watch something else.” He took hold of Kili’s shoulders and steered him to where a dozen children sat before a puppet show.
“No,” Kili groaned, “puppets are for girls.”
“You’re acting like a girl. Now sit down and watch. I’ll come fetch you in a moment.” Fili waited until Kili sat before returning to the table with the bowls. He watched the spinning bowls closely, certain that he would be able to follow the bead. His luck was no better than that of the gambling players. When he felt as though his eyes would cross from staring at the motion so long, Fili pulled himself away from the table and turned to collect Kili.
Before he went more than a few steps, a woman with a thin sword appeared in front of him. He startled at the weapon in her hand. She merely gave him a wink before opening her mouth and dropping the sword inside. Fili jumped and took a step back. Perfectly at ease, she swallowed it down to the hilt. She seemed to smile at him around the blade, eyes laughing, and he hurried around her with a shudder. Only to stop abruptly.
The puppets were gone. The children were gone. Kili was gone.
Heart jolting, Fili jogged around the area, peering between poles and stages and crowds. The sun nearly touched the horizon, blanketing the area in twilight. What had before seemed so enticing and fascinating now felt threatening. Odd shadows bent and stretched. The performers took on monstrous qualities. Jeering faces and clawed hands surrounded him at every turn. He ducked and evaded, calling his brother’s name frantically. No laughing voice answered, no head of dark hair appeared at his side.
Fright hammered in Fili’s chest and he desperately began questioning those around him, tugging on women’s skirts and pulling at men’s hands. Most ignored him. Some brushed him aside with annoyance. A few pitied him but they had no answers. Panicked tears sprang to Fili’s eyes. His stomach dropped. Spying the well in the center of the square, he clambered onto it, hoping for a vantage point from which to see Kili, perhaps hiding behind a wagon wheel, waiting to spring out at him for a joke. His new position afforded him only the sight of the rapidly emptying street.
What was he to do? What was he meant to do? He’d never lost his brother before. What was he to do? He didn’t know what to do. Leaping from his perch, he charged up the road, dashing at his eyes with his wrist occasionally. Whether it was due to tears or his distress, he found himself at a dead end, blocked by the stone wall that surrounded the city. His breathing sped up as he took in his unfamiliar surroundings. Clenching his fists, he went back the way he’d come, seeking some landmark to guide him on his way. There, a little ways down, that was the inn they were staying in on this trip. Which meant the meeting house was not far.
Steadied by the knowledge, Fili gathered himself and sprinted. The meeting house loomed before him and his steps slowed. Thorin was going to have his hide. But better Fili take a beating than Kili remain lost. With that resolution, he shoved open the meeting house door and strode into what turned out to be an antechamber. Another door sat directly across from him. Before he could reach it, a man blocked his path.
“You can’t go in there. It’s a private - ”
Fili stomped on his toes, following the action up with a swift kick to his shin before racing past him. He burst into the main room and immediately every eye in the place turned to him, including his uncle’s furious one.
“What is the meaning of this?” The man at the head of the table demanded.
“My apologies, Master Hermund.” Thorin scraped his chair away from the table. “‘Tis only my sister-son. I will see him out and return.”
“Uncle Thorin, wait,” Fili tried.
“Silence,” Thorin hissed, forcibly hauling him from the room. The man in the antechamber glared at Fili but quickly looked away when he saw the thundercloud on Thorin’s face. Once outside, Thorin cuffed Fili’s ear. “I told you to stay. You know better than to interrupt. I have taught you better. Your mother has taught you better.” He cuffed his ear again. “What were you thinking? A rash and disrespectful action such as that I might have expected from Kili but you…” Thorin trailed off, gaze leaving Fili to look around. “Kili. Where is Kili?”
His ears stung. His knees wobbled. Fili shivered, wetting his lips twice before murmuring, “He’s missing.”
“What.” Thorin’s tone dropped dangerously low.
The door opened and Balin slipped out into the evening, glancing between the two.
“What happened?” Thorin asked, face hardening.
“H-he’s gone.”
“What happened?” Thorin repeated.
Fili’s guts twisted. His hands clutched at each other, the ring an unyielding knot pushing against his fingers. “I…”
“What happened?”
Balin came forward, confusion evident on his face. “Thorin.”
“Do not make me repeat it again!” Thorin barked. “Tell me what has happened!”
Fili cringed at the volume of his voice, shoulders hunching. “We - I…disobeyed.” He bowed his head and stared at his boots. “We went to the square to see the music and then…”
“Then what? Speak, boy!”
His uncle wouldn’t accept his silence. Fili would be made to say the damning words. He pressed his lips together, wishing vainly for Balin to intercede. But his teacher said nothing and when Fili glanced up through his lashes, he saw the anger in the line of Thorin’s shoulder, in the set of his jaw. There would be no escape for him. No mercy. The truth must come, and swiftly. “Then I…” Fili’s breath caught in his throat and he swallowed convulsively, the confession a mere whisper when it left him. “I left him.”
“You left him?!” Thorin bellowed, his hand coming at Fili’s ear again, harder and faster this time. “I entrusted your brother to you and you abandoned him. Why? Festival treats? Is that what you were after? Was some carnival trinket worth more than your brother’s life?”
“Thorin,” Balin interrupted. “We must get to the square. Perhaps Kili has only wandered a little ways, and we may yet find him quickly.”
“Kili is not the one who has wandered.” Thorin wrenched himself away from Fili as if with great effort, his eyes burning like coals when he fixed them on him.
Fili cowered from such ferocity. Certainly he had upset his uncle before. Missed lessons, childish pranks, and the like were not uncommon in Dis’ household. But never had he failed in such a way before. Never had he directly disobeyed in this manner. And it was the first time he had ever endangered Kili. Thorin’s wrath was justified and earned, though Fili felt it as sharply as a thorn through the palm of his hand.
It was almost a blessing when Thorin turned and marched off for the square without another word, or even a look in Fili’s direction. Fili shivered in the shadow of the doorpost, head aching. A drop of blood dripped from the shell of his ear, sliding across the slope of his jaw, and caught in his stubble, painting it red.
“Come, laddie.” Balin’s handkerchief was suddenly against his face and he recoiled. “Easy now,” Balin murmured, weathered hands sure as he cleaned away the blood. When he was finished, he tilted his head in the direction Thorin had disappeared.
Fili stared at him.
Balin sighed and placed a gentle hand between his shoulder blades, urging him on. Finally, Fili moved, tripping over himself, though Balin remained a steady guiding presence. They caught up to Thorin in the nearly deserted square. A few performers remained to facilitate the cleanup of their gear but the crowds and others of the circus bunch were nowhere to be seen. As Balin herded Fili towards Thorin, they could hear him speaking with a man pulling down the flagged poles.
“-wearing a blue tunic, with dark hair.”
The man shook his head, in a manner far more courteous than he had shown to Fili.
“Any luck?” Balin asked.
Thorin whirled around with a growl. “It’s as if he disappeared off the face of the earth.”
Fili stopped short, dread swelling in his breast.
“None have seen him. Or at least, none will tell.” Thorin shot a suspicious glare at the masked musicians walking past.
“You have yet to ask me.”
Fili recognized the man as the one whose game of bowls and bead had captured him earlier. Regret bubbled acidic in his throat and he shrank behind Balin.
“Have you seen a Dwarfling, about this high, dark hair with a blue tunic?” Thorin asked.
The man scratched his chin. “To be sure, I’ve seen a few children around today.”
“And?” Thorin pressed.
“And my memory’s a bit shaky.” He grinned down at Thorin. “Perhaps a coin or two would go a long way to improving it.”
“You swindling crook,” Thorin snarled. “He’s a child!”
The man laughed unpleasantly. “Make it three coins then.”
Fili bit his lip. In front of him, Balin pulled his purse from his belt and loosened it. Thorin’s eyes shot to him. Balin shook his head ever so slightly as he began counting out the money.
“Wait.” The woman who had swallowed the sword stepped into their circle. “Put that away. I will tell you.”
“Yedda,” hissed the man.
“Quiet,” Yedda snapped. “It’s not enough to cheat people, now you seek to profit from their misery?”
The man glowered at her. “You are costing me coin, Yedda. I shall be taking it from your earnings.”
“Do what seems best to you,” she retorted, turning her back on him.
“You know of Kili? Of the Dwarfling child?” Thorin asked impatiently.
Yedda’s mouth frowned in sympathy. “I am afraid it is a lost cause, Master Dwarf.”
“Where is he?”
“The docks, sir.”
Fili gasped. He should have known. Kili had asked many times to see the boats.
“The docks?” Balin repeated. “Why would he be there?”
Yedda hesitated. “I fear I have worse news for you. The child did not go alone.”
“What do you mean? Tell me,” Thorin demanded.
“It’s no use, sir. You can not hope to go against them.”
“Do not speak in riddles. Tell me plainly what has become of my nephew.”
“It matters not. For the gates will soon be shut and they open to no one until the morning.”
The docks. Fili knew which road led there. He had seen it when he climbed the well earlier. He would find Kili at the docks.
“Who has taken my nephew?” Thorin asked Yedda, voice hard.
“Fili!” Balin exclaimed, reaching for the back of the boy’s tunic.
But Fili was faster and he ran for the road, unimpeded by Balin’s hands or Thorin’s shouts to stop. Ahead of him rose the city walls, tall and imposing. And there, the gate. Already he could see the watchmen coming toward it, their torchlight growing as the last traces of sunlight faded from the sky. He would not lose this chance to find Kili. He raced forward, slipping through the gate even as it was closing, ignoring the startled shouts of the Men. When he passed through, he stumbled as the path changed unexpectedly to wooden planks sloping downward to the sea. As he picked himself up, he could hear Thorin behind the gate, arguing with the guard to open it again. Without waiting for the outcome, Fili ran on.
Multiple ships were tied in the harbor. Stacks of crates towered around him. Barrels and livestock pens hindered him. Haphazardly hung lanterns threw conflicting patches of light and shadow across his way. Sailors, shipfitters, and longshoremen set about their tasks or meandered in groups, adding to the chaos of the shipyard. Fili grimaced, slowing his pace as he realized the enormity of his task. How was he to find Kili in the midst of all the activity? The air stank of fish and burning oil.
Fili ran up and down the length of the harbor, breaths coming in short gasps. He strained his eyes, searching for any glimpse of Kili, the untamed hair hanging down his back, or the blue of his tunic. Men brushed past him, uncaring or unaware of his presence. He tried calling for Kili but his voice wouldn’t obey him, cracking and whimpering, rather than cutting through the ambient noise levels.
A large wooden box swung by him unexpectedly. It hit his shoulder and knocked him off balance, nearly pitching him into the water. He barely managed to catch hold of a mooring line as he fell. Panting, he clung to it, shutting his eyes as the fright dissipated, leaving hopelessness in its wake. He was too small, the world too large, and Kili surely too far gone by now. How would he face Thorin after this? Their mother? The people of Erid Luin? How could he face the rest of his days without his little brother by his side?
His eyes flew open. Gritting his teeth, he dragged himself hand over hand up the rope, until he was a little higher than the dock. From there, he dropped down, striking his ribs against the planks. The air left his lungs and he lay where he had fallen, slightly stunned.
“-ili!”
He pressed his face into the wood, gathering his strength.
“Fili!”
The call jerked his head up. “Kili,” he breathed.
“Fi-mph!”
“Kili. Kili!” Fili pushed to his feet, arm going around his sore ribs, eyes wild as he searched for the place his brother’s voice had come from. It had been close by.
Craning his neck, he peered up at the deck of the ship looming over him, the mooring line of which he’d just jumped from. Though not as large as some of the other vessels, it was still an impressive size. Two large black sails dominated the deck, ribbed and pointed as dragon wings. The shapes of many men moved on the deck in a flurry of activity. A little further ahead, Fili spotted the gangplank. Sailors constantly came up and down, arms loaded with crates and barrels of provisions, preparing for departure.
Setting his jaw, Fili ducked under a wooden beam held between a pair of deckhands, and then sprinted up the ramp. He burst onto the deck and stopped short. Twenty burly men surrounded him, their clothes black, faces rough, and with no shortage of weapons among them. A hand seized his wrist and he was spun around.
“What’s this? A stowaway?”
Fili yanked away from the pirate, who had not expected such strength from one so small. “Let go!”
“Oi!” The pirate made to grab him again but Fili slipped under his arm. “Catch ‘im!”
Others stopped their work and joined in the chase. Fili dodged their clumsy attempts, ducking around them with practiced ease. He rounded the helm and halted. Ahead of him, a giant of a man held Kili, one large hand held over his mouth, the other wrapped around his torso, holding him off the ground and to the man’s chest. Though Kili squirmed like a fish freshly pulled from a lake, his efforts had no effect on the man.
“Did I not say to make the ship ready? Why then do I see my crew standing about like maids waiting for flowers at a dance?” A man emerged from below deck, dark hair secured in a topknot with a small rod of copper. He surveyed the gathered sailors, all of whom shifted nervously under his inspection, though the crowd did not disperse. “To work all of you, pox-faced ale-chuggers, before I flog your hides to leather!” His sharp eyes dropped to Fili. “Are you the one responsible for the disruption of the work aboard my ship?”
Fili said nothing.
“Shall I toss him over, captain?” The man who had grabbed his wrist motioned to do so again.
“You shall do no such thing.” Fili sidestepped him. The captain raised an eyebrow. Fili drew himself up to his full height, squared his shoulders, and raised his chin. “My name is Fili, son of Dis, daughter of Thrain, son of Thror.”
The captain chuckled. “Are those names supposed to mean something to me?”
Fili blinked. His heritage was well known in the world as he’d experienced it. Even in the kingdoms of Men, the names of Dwarven lords were at least recognized, if not honored. “Does the name Thorin Oakenshield carry more weight?”
The captain offered a casual shrug.
“Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, heir to the throne of Erebor. I am his nephew. That is my brother.” He pointed to the still wriggling Kili. “You will release him to me at once.”
The captain performed a mock bow. “Forgive me, highness, I did not realize I was in the presence of royalty. My name is Vogric, son of a bastard.”
His crew broke out in raucous laughter. Fili glanced around helplessly as his plan fell to pieces around him. These men held no regard for his title, and he had no other authority to command them. His hand drifted to the knife at his belt, the first he had ever successfully crafted, with Thorin’s watch and direction. But it was small, only a step above a training blade, little more than a toy. Even if it had been the sharpest battle axe, what could he do against so many?
“You would defy a prince of Durin’s House?” he tried.
Vogric snickered. “I don’t give a warg’s fig if you’re the Lady of Lorien herself. The boy’s cargo and we’re going to sell him as such. He’ll fetch a handsome price, I’ll wager.” He crossed the deck to Fili and took his chin in his hands, turning his face to and fro in the flickering light of the braziers. “I’d take you too but for the fact none would believe you to be a Dwarf, what with that straw hair of yours.” He let go of him with a patronizing pat to the cheek, turning around for the stairs and motioning for the man to bring Kili down below.
“Wait!” Fili burst out, hesitating when Vogric actually looked back. “If…if I could purchase him, would you let him go?”
Vogric faced him fully, eyes bright with amusement. “What have you got for payment?”
The weight of his predicament settled into Fili’s mind as he patted himself down for anything of value. He had already spent the small amount of coin his mother had sent him with, not that it would have been enough anyway. He carried no purse or jewels. The only ornaments he wore were the simple metal clasps in his hair, significant among his people but of little interest to a pirate captain. His knife was neither decorated, nor fashioned of high quality. The longer he spent checking his pockets, the louder the laughter of the pirate crew became. Fili’s gaze darted to Kili.
“Do all dwarf princes run about in poverty or only those of Durin’s House?” Vogric mocked.
Prince. House of Durin.
“Will you accept this as payment?” Fili thrust his right hand forward.
The emerald in his ring sparkled in the firelight. A hush fell over the crowd. Vogric didn’t respond, staring for a long moment. Regret swept over Fili. He wished he hadn’t offered the ring. He didn’t want to lose it. It was a symbol of his status, an heirloom of his people, and one of the only reminders Thorin and Dis had of their fallen brother. He slowly lowered his hand back to his side. Vogric’s eye followed it down before snapping up to meet Fili’s.
“Aye.” He gestured for Kili to be brought forward. “You can have the whelp and I’ll take the ring.” Reluctantly, Fili started to remove it. “With the finger too.”
Fili paused, unsure of what that meant.
“Here, bring that box around.” One of the men did as Vogric said and set a crate in front of Fili. “Go on then.” Vogric waved between Fili and the box. “Set your hand on it.”
Alarm shot through Fili. Vogric jerked his chin and Fili steeled himself, placing his hand on the crate, noting how it trembled. He shut his eyes and waited. When nothing happened, he risked opening an eye to glance at the captain.
“You can use that wood whittler hanging on your belt.”
Confused, Fili cocked his head.
“Your knife,” Vogric clarified. When Fili still didn’t move, he grew impatient. “My crew and I set sail within the hour. I don’t have time for your boondoggling. Either you slice it off quick and clean or I sell the runt to those who will actually pay.”
“You’re not going to…”
Vogric sniggered. “I won’t touch a hair on your head. This is your brother, your bargain.” He leaned forward and slid Fili’s knife free of its sheath, pressing it into his left hand. “I suggest you start hacking.”
The blood drained from Fili’s face, leaving him lightheaded. He looked around the circle of faces hemming him in but found only predatory anticipation. Sweat sprang to his forehead and palms, and he squeezed his fingers tighter around the knife hilt.
With a thoughtful hum, Vogric circled around behind him, then crossed over to where Kili was held. “Or you can keep it.” He took a piece of Kili’s hair and twirled it around his finger. “And I’ll keep him.”
Kili jerked his head away, glaring fiercely at Vogric.
“No, I’ll…” Fili’s voice sounded faint, even to his own ears. He trailed off, mind blanking as the horror of what he was about to do swept over him.
Vogric grinned nastily. “Get on with it then.”
Fili laid the knife against the base of his finger, just above his first knuckle. He had gotten cut before. Working in the forge with his uncle, helping his mother skin and clean wild game, playing out in the woods with Kili. This would be no worse than that. He’d jammed his finger playing with his mates, caught it in a door, even dislocated it once when training with Mister Dwalin. This would be no worse than that. It would be like any other injury. Injury was nothing to a Dwarf, especially one of Durin’s line. Sucking in a breath, he looked to Kili before making the first cut.
Blood sprang up fast and hot. Fili stared at it, at the bloody knife in his hand held over his finger. It was only when a screech broke his trance that the pain came.
“What are you doing? You can’t, you can’t, Fili, you can’t! Don’t make him!”
Agony rushed over him, blood wept freely from the cut, and laughter swelled around him again. Fili set the blade to the previous cut, though the sight made him ill.
“Keep going, little princeling,” Vogric goaded.
The pirates, encouraged by their captain, jeered at him, teasing and taunting. Tears welled in his eyes and he lifted the knife away. Vogric smirked, stroking Kili’s cheek. Choking back a sob, Fili started in on his finger again, going deeper. The blade split his flesh and made quick work of the muscles beneath, gliding swiftly as if through a summer peach. It hurt, Mahal, did it hurt. The knife hit something solid and stuck. He paused, bewildered. Until he realized the obstruction was bone. Gorge rising, Fili’s heart quailed. Dwarf bones were strong, like the stone their creator carved them from. It would be no easy feat to cut through it, requiring a strong arm and a steady sawing motion. Darkness swooped over the edges of his vision. The scoffing of the crowd and Kili’s cries seemed to fade away. Fili swayed on his feet. Kili’s tearful face swam before him.
The knife was removed from his grip. Fili lurched to the side, attempting to take it back. He missed and his torso collided with the corner of the crate. He slumped over, sick and frightened. Someone tugged him upright, positioning him away from the puddle of blood surrounding his maimed finger. He drifted for a moment, dropping beneath the swell of darkness. When he broke the surface, Balin knelt at his side, wrapping his finger in a length of cloth, squeezing it tightly as he did so. Sound returned slowly and he recognized Kili’s sobbing beneath the roar of Thorin’s voice.
“ - string your guts from the mast for the crows to feast on, you wretched pieces of sea-trolling scum!”
Though most of the crew recoiled from Thorin’s temper, Vogric remained unmoved, even grinning at him.
“If you’re quite finished, I’d like to take a moment to explain the situation to you rightly. You see, there’s no need for threats of violence. We’re merely conducting a bit of business. Young Prince Fili here has struck a bargain with me.”
Thorin’s eyes widened briefly, gaze darting to Fili.
“That’s right. I know who he is, and who you are, Thorin Oakenshield. He told me of your rank and heritage. And the word of royalty is not to be broken. He will fulfill the terms of our agreement or the deal is forfeit.”
Anger flared in Thorin’s expression and Fili wished he could sink down behind the box to escape that look but Balin’s hold on him was secure.
“And what are the terms of the agreement?” Thorin grit, shifting his focus back to the captain.
“He’s promised me that trinket he wears, along with the finger it sits on.”
“No.”
Vogric raised an eyebrow. “No?”
Fury and defiance carved deep channels in Thorin’s brow.
Vogric shrugged. “Have it your way then. I’ll send word to Master Hermund. He’ll jail you for interfering, lash the lad for breaking his deal, and I might just hold on to the other one. Take him off the market and keep him for my own, just to see what all the fuss is about.”
Thorin trembled with rage. “You despicable, orc-bred rat!”
“If I may,” Balin interrupted.
The two leaders whirled on him. Balin placidly unwound the makeshift bandage. “I’m sorry, Fili, this may hurt.” So saying, he gently slid the ring the rest of the way off his finger, taking great care not to jostle it more than necessary. Fili let out a strangled whimper despite his best efforts. As soon as it was off, Balin replaced the cloth and took Fili’s left hand, molding it around his right. “Hold this tight, now.”
He tried to do as Balin instructed but the pulse of pain that followed shocked a gasp from him and he settled for loosely keeping it in place rather than putting any pressure on it.
Meticulously clearing any trace of blood from the ring with his sleeve, Balin came around the crate and stood between Thorin and Vogric. “Hermund strikes me as the sort of man who would never turn down an opportunity to charge a fee for his help in such matters, particularly when he stands to make a profit of such magnitude as this would afford.” Balin laid the ring in the center of his palm and held it up for Vogric’s inspection.
Thorin’s arm jerked forward, as if he would snatch the ring. But he stayed his hand and pulled back to cross his arms over his chest instead. Vogric leaned over, greed shining bright as he inspected the ring closer.
“It is true Dwarven craft. Forged in the heart of Erebor, with pure elements found in the self-same mountain. The gold and silver on their own are a fortune. Add to it the magnificent gem in the center and you are well on your way to being a lord in your own right.”
Vogric stayed quiet, spellbound by Balin’s description.
“Now, you could sell to any of the nobles around here and be satisfied to the end of your days with the profit. However, if it were I doing the selling, I would sail farther south. To Eriador, or even Enedwaith perhaps. Somewhere Dwarven craft is rarely seen. A sample such as this will fetch double, no, dare I say, triple the price. But,” here Balin held up a finger, “time is of the essence. Who knows what wagging tongues might even now be scheming against your anticipated fortune?”
Vogric reached for the ring but Balin pulled it out of his reach. “I propose a new bargain: this ring for both of the lads.”
“Yes, yes,” Vogric quickly assented, greediness all too clear in his expression.
“Balin,” Thorin grunted.
“Thorin,” Balin returned evenly. The two stared at each other for a moment before Thorin clenched his jaw and looked away. Balin offered the ring to Vogric and the man plucked it from him and clenched it tightly in his fist.
“We depart at once.”
“I certainly wouldn’t wish to cause you any delay, Captain. May we go then?”
Looking nearly startled at the reminder that there were more aboard his ship than himself and his new acquisition, Vogric snapped his fingers. The brute holding Kili dropped him to the deck. Wasting no time, Kili scrambled over to where Fili slouched, slamming into his side and securing his arms around his waist. The air left Fili in a rush but he paid no mind to that, bowing his face into his brother’s hair, soaking it with his tears.
The conversation carried on around them. Fili let it wash over him without attempting to decipher the meaning. He wrapped his left arm across Kili’s back and pressed him closer to his chest. A trembling ran through their joined forms and he worried it was Kili. Until Balin drew Kili away and left Fili shaking, alone. Kili stretched his arms out for him and Fili would have gone to him, were it not for the lightheadedness that left him dizzy and sick.
A hand clamped onto his shoulder. Fili jumped and looked up into Thorin’s angry, cold, and bitter face. Terror shot through him. He feared what Thorin would say now, about the mess Fili had landed them all in. The trouble he’d caused, the damage he’d done. The people he’d endangered and the irreplaceable treasure he’d lost. But Thorin said nothing.
His silence was a burden of its own.
He pushed Fili before him, maneuvering him through the crowd and down the ramp. Fili’s limbs tingled with numbness and his head spun with each step. His finger throbbed and pulsed in time with his anxious heart and he battled the urge to be sick. They had not yet made it to the end of the dock before Fili’s legs failed him, leaving him stumbling. He could not catch himself and would have fallen into the sea if it were not for Thorin’s grip on the back of his coat.
“Atrâd,” Thorin rumbled.
Fili’s cheeks flushed with heat and he fought his uncooperative body into submission. He focused on taking one step at a time, on putting his breathing into some semblance of rhythm. The path before him sloped up, making his task more difficult. Darkness swam before his eyes again and his pace slackened.
“Come along, Fili.”
“Thorin.” The tips of Balin’s boots wavered in and out of Fili’s vision. “Perhaps we should take a moment. He’s gone whiter than a bucket of sheep’s milk.”
A finger tilted his chin upwards, Thorin’s expression finally softening at the edges. “Aye, we can spare a moment.”
Fili gratefully collapsed to his knees. Kili appeared instantaneously beside him, a comforting presence as Thorin knelt also and unraveled the cloth around his finger.
“Look away, child,” Balin urged.
Fili didn’t know if he was talking to him or to Kili. When he glimpsed a flash of white beneath the bubbling fountain of red his finger had become, he wished he had heeded the warning regardless. He retched, toppling to his other side, vomit splattering the boards under him.
“Oh, Fili,” Thorin whispered, large palm cupping the side of his face.
“Here. It must be wrapped again.” With one hand Balin pressed Kili’s face into his robe and with the other, he held out a fresh kerchief to Thorin. “We’ll need to send for a healer immediately.”
Thorin sighed heavily and accepted the cloth, winding it quickly and efficiently around Fili’s finger, drawing it tight with a sharp jerk. Fili cried out and tugged his hand from his grip. “On your feet.” Miserable, Fili shook his head, ducking away from the arm Thorin put around his shoulders. “If there’s to be any hope of keeping the functionality of that finger, we mustn't delay. Up!”
Thorin grabbed the lapels of his coat, pulling him to a standing position. Once he was upright, Kili attached himself to his left arm, gripping it fiercely, fingers digging in tight enough to hurt even through his sleeve.
“Kili, let your brother be. You’ll hinder his walking,” Thorin admonished.
“No!” both boys protested.
Tired of argument, or perhaps unwilling to waste time, Thorin said no more on it, allowing the two to do as they wished. It was a long, arduous walk back up to the city walls. The closed gates loomed ahead of them. To Fili’s surprise, Thorin led them past the gates and around to a little guard’s door in the side. He knocked thrice and when it opened a crack, he passed a handful of coins through the gap. The door opened fully then and their small party shuffled through.
“Shall I inquire after a healer?” Balin asked quietly as they made their way past the outer walls.
Fili shrank in on himself as the watchmen stared after them, aware of the blood stains on his clothes, the bandage on his finger, the smell of sick that still lingered on him.
Before Thorin could reply, a pair of men strode purposefully up to him. “Master Hermund wishes to know if he should consider the business closed,” one said.
Thorin bristled.
“Hang Hermund and his blasted business,” Balin grumbled.
“Inform Master Hermund there was an urgent matter I had to attend.”
The other man raised an eyebrow. “I will be sure to pass along how little you value his time. He’ll be only too happy to show the same disregard for yours.”
Thorin growled low in his throat. “I shall come to complete the business.”
“Thorin, don’t,” Balin entreated. “Your kin needs you!”
“Our people need access to the trade routes of Forlond,” Thorin countered wearily. “If I do not secure the cooperation of Hermund, our journey shall have been in vain and our people’s situation no better.”
The first man wrinkled his nose. “I wouldn’t count on his good will. He hates to be kept waiting.”
Balin tossed the soiled remains of Fili’s first bandage with precision. It hit the man’s chest with a sloppy splat. “Give this to the master as reason for our delay. If he has no good will left in the face of the spilled blood of children, we do not wish to conduct business with such a soulless creature as himself.”
The men exchanged a shocked look before hurrying back the way they had come.
“Balin, we cannot afford to risk this venture,” Thorin reprimanded, though it seemed almost half-hearted to Fili.
“I meant what I said,” Balin sniffed. “If he remains offended after learning what has happened, we are better off without him.”
“You are talking from the heart, my old friend. But I must think with my head. I’ll have a healer sent to the inn. Then I shall conduct business with Hermund, soulless though he may be. After, I will return.”
Balin exhaled. “If you are set on it, might I suggest reconvening at the tavern. Perhaps a round on your coin will put him in a more forgiving mood.”
Thorin nodded, then stepped in front of Fili and Kili.
“Uncle,” Kili whimpered.
“Take heart, dear one, I won’t be gone long,” Thorin assured. “Go now with Balin.”
Deep disappointment enveloped Fili. “You will not stay?”
“I cannot,” Thorin said regretfully, tugging gently on the braid at Fili’s temple.
Fili turned his face away. After a moment, Thorin’s heavy footsteps sounded and then faded as he went farther from them.
“Alright, let’s go, lads.” Balin took Fili’s left hand and Kili’s right in his, setting off for the inn.
“Where is Uncle Thorin going?” Kili asked.
“He’s fetching a healer.”
“And then we shall see him?”
Balin sighed again. “No.”
“Why?”
“He must finish his dealings with the leaders of this city,” Balin answered.
Fili sullenly kicked out at a small stone along the road.
“Why couldn’t he stay with us?” Kili continued.
“Because he is angry with me,” Fili answered bitterly.
Balin stopped suddenly, drawing the boys up short. He waited until he had Fili’s full attention, making sure to look him in the eye before he spoke. “Nai, Fili. Your uncle is frustrated with the master of this town. And he is downright murderous in regards to that wicked Captain Vogric. He’d have cleaved his skull in two if he’d had an axe handy. But he holds nothing but concern for you.”
“Concern?” Fili repeated doubtfully.
“Mm. When we found you with your own knife in your flesh…”
Fili shuddered and dropped his gaze.
Balin swayed their joined hands, garnering his attention again. “Thorin loves you, though he is a cantankerous old goat who doesn’t know how to express it.”
Kili giggled at the description and though Fili didn’t entirely believe Balin, it was a nice thought to hear. They continued on to the inn in better spirits than before.
When the healer arrived, Balin arranged a bath for Kili while the man examined Fili’s finger. He proclaimed himself to be no expert in Dwarven anatomy but was of the opinion that the ligaments would mend, given time and the avoidance of infection. After wrapping it in clean strips, he handed Balin a jar of ointment with instructions, then took his leave. Balin had dinner brought to their room and Kili ate enthusiastically, though Fili found he could only poke and prod at his own portion. Soon after, Balin sent both boys to bed.
Fili drifted along the edges of sleep, never completely surrendering. His finger pained him severely, but it was his unsettled mind that kept him awake. So he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. Kili slept soundly beside him, one arm tossed across Fili’s stomach, head pillowed on his brother’s shoulder. Given the circumstances, Balin had insisted Fili use his bed instead of the pallet on the floor. As soon as Fili had climbed up, Kili was next to him. Balin didn’t have the heart to separate them, for which Fili was grateful. Having the warm weight of his brother against him soothed a troubled part of his spirit.
It was far into the night before Thorin returned. He joined Balin by the fire.
“It is done,” he said, voice quiet.
“Hermund has agreed?”
“With a few concessions, if you’ll be kind enough to sort those out with his council in the morning.” Thorin turned to face the bed and Fili quickly shut his eyes, feigning sleep. “How are they?”
“As well as can be expected. Kili will not be parted from Fili. I hardly managed to get him into the bath earlier, though goodness knows how he needed it. Blood in his hair, on his clothes. I’ve sent it off for washing, both of theirs, and I warrant yours’ll be needing it as well.”
A floorboard creaked as Thorin crossed the room. “What did the healer make of his wound?”
“He believes it will mend.”
Thorin hummed in acknowledgement and Fili felt his shadow fall across his eyelids when Thorin leaned over him. His hand was lifted and he tried to stay as still as possible. “The bleeding appears to have stopped.”
“Aye, I believe the wound’s been packed and securely fastened. He also applied an ointment.” A bottle clacked on the tabletop as Balin must have produced it for Thorin’s inspection.
Fili’s hand was set down and the floorboard creaked twice, once as Thorin went to look at what the healer had left and then again when he came back to the bed. “They are resting.”
Balin hummed an assent.
“I am glad of it,” Thorin continued. Kili’s hair tickled against Fili’s collarbone as Thorin pet through the unbraided strands. “Kili does not seem too greatly affected by what has happened.”
“He is young.” Balin’s voice came softly. “I don’t think he truly understands the nature of what occurred.”
“And Fili?”
Balin sighed. “I fear he will be changed by these events.”
“Surely after his finger heals…”
“It’s not only that, Thorin. He was quite frightened by Kili’s absence. You know how he cares for him.”
“Not well enough,” Thorin rumbled, hand shifting to trace the shell of Kili’s ear with a fingertip.
Fili’s stomach clenched and his heart sank to his feet.
“Now, Thorin.” Balin’s robes shuffled as he stood. “That’s not a fair judgement. Any lad would be taken in by the carnival’s diversions. And Kili has a talent for wandering off quickly and quietly.”
Thorin huffed but did not argue.
“Besides, you heard what the woman Yedda said. The corsairs are known to snatch any unattended children. In fact, we should consider ourselves fortunate that it was only Kili they found. Think, Thorin, if they had taken both of them.”
Thorin’s hand withdrew.
Balin’s shadow crossed Fili’s face. “Fili saved his brother’s life, at no small cost to himself.”
“He was foolish and reckless,” Thorin growled lowly.
“And also brave and selfless,” Balin shot back. “It is a cruel thing to make one hurt their own body. To have a child do it…” He sucked in a shuddering breath. “There are few adults I can name who would have the fortitude to go through with such a ghastly action, and Fili did it without a second thought. That is the love he has for his brother.”
“I wish it had not come to that,” Thorin muttered. “And to think, that miserable khakf now possesses the Ring of Zigil-urus.”
“A small price to pay for the safe return of your sister-sons,” Balin reminded, pointedly.
“It was not his to bargain with,” Thorin returned, sharply.
Fili flinched, though the others were too caught up in their argument to notice.
“What is it that you and the Lady Dis have put into his charge, hm?” Balin’s robes shuffled again, though Fili wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he was gesturing with his arms. “How often has he been tasked with keeping watch over his brother? To look out and care for his brother? To protect his brother?”
“I do not see how - ”
Balin wouldn’t let him finish. “Fili fulfilled his duty, the obligation you’ve placed on him since the moment Kili was born into this world. He accomplished what we could not have done, and he did it alone. No one there to advise him, none to support him. Yet he made the decision he deemed best in the terrible position he found himself in. You give him no credit.”
“The loss of Frerin’s jewel grieves me,” Thorin responded. “But do not doubt my pride in Fili’s actions.”
Balin grunted. “Perhaps you should tell him that.”
“What?”
“He thinks you to be angry-”
“I am!” Thorin disputed.
“-with him,” Balin finished, exasperated. “Your temper wounds him far worse than any blade to the hand ever could.”
Thorin made no response and Fili carefully peered through his lashes to find him with his head bowed.
“Think on what I have said,” Balin murmured. “It would not harm you to show him your true affections.” He moved away, presumably to the pallet on the floor he would be using for the night.
Thorin’s chest rose and then fell slowly as he took a great breath. Then he too moved away from the bed. Fili let his eyelids fall shut again, his mind thrumming with the conversation he’d overheard. Thorin was upset. But also proud? It didn’t make sense.
The bed dipped beside him and Fili was too startled to remember to pretend to slumber. His eyes popped open, widening when he saw Thorin sitting on the edge of the bed, staring back at him, equally surprised. For a moment, neither spoke. Finally, Fili licked his lips and found the courage to break the silence.
“Thorin…” His voice was a thin, hesitant thing. “...I’m sorry.” Thorin’s eyes narrowed and Fili dropped his gaze, arm curling around Kili, seeking comfort to go on. “I shouldn’t have - ”
Thorin moved forward suddenly and Fili recoiled, ears stinging with the memory of earlier, outside the meeting house. But there was nowhere for him to go, the pillow poor protection against a Dwarf warrior. Thorin’s arms took hold of him, hoisting him up and forward. Between his shock, pain, and exhaustion, it took Fili a bit to process where he ended up.
He was cradled to Thorin’s chest, the strong arms around him a welcome pressure, the heartbeat beneath him a reassuring sound.
“Uncle?” he breathed.
Thorin’s arms tightened in reply and a sob burst out of Fili. He brought his own arms up to reach around Thorin as far as he could, grasping the back of his tunic with the strength of his emotion, uncaring of the ache in his injured finger.
“Shosh, ziriz khî,” Thorin soothed, rocking ever so slightly. “You have naught to apologize for.”
“But the ring,” Fili managed between cries.
“It is but a memento of the dead, not worth more than the living.” Thorin drew back far enough to meet Fili’s tearful eyes before leaning forward to rest his forehead against Fili’s. “You conducted yourself as a true son of Durin, fearing neither man nor pain to protect your kin.”
Fili pressed his head harder against Thorin’s, willing all his fear be banished in the presence of his uncle’s rare display of fondness. He took a few shaky breaths.
“I know I am not adept at showing it, but I care more deeply for you than you know,” Thorin whispered.
Fili nodded, steadying himself, though tears still fell. “Balin says you’re a cantankerous old goat.”
That pulled a chuckle from Thorin and he gently separated from Fili. “Aye, Balin is right in most matters, and this one is no exception.”
“You forgive me then?” Fili asked shyly.
Thorin’s face softened. “I do. Azlâf, irakdashat.” He carefully lowered Fili back to the mattress.
Kili rolled forward, still asleep but instinctually reaching for his brother. Fili settled more comfortably, turning onto his left side and drawing Kili’s back against his middle. Thorin stayed beside them, thumbing away the remnants of tears on Fili’s cheeks, the corner of his mouth turned up in quiet reassurance. Fili’s mind, now removed of its burdens, slipped into peaceful sleep.