Chapter Text
Year 2941, Third Age
“It’s pink.” Fíli stated, quirking an eyebrow at his companion. Standing on the drive in the early-morning sun it was impossible not to notice that the two-storey stuccoed house was most definitely not white. Why, in a town of nice, normal houses in shades of white and tan and brown, was it that they ended up in the one house that didn’t conform. It was pink, of all colors. And yet, here they were.
Turning from the cart that was now disappearing down the drive Kíli grinned at Fíli and, instead of answering, flipped his collar up against the strengthening sunlight. Fíli watched him, gaze drawn to his delicate hands as they brushed his thick hair out from under his coat. Before Kíli could catch him looking Fíli looked away and let his eyes roam the building, taking in the well-kept home - the neat shutters, fresh paint, actual glass in the windows. Upstairs there were even gauzy curtains. Fíli’s eyes narrowed, focused on an upstairs window. Kíli went past him, hauling his pack, but Fíli continued to stare. He could have sworn…but there was nothing there now. Pushing his unruly hair off his face he snatched up his own packs from the ground. Great, he thought, it’s pink and drafty.
“It’s pink.” he muttered, though he knew Kíli could hear him from inside the house, probably could have even if the door wasn’t standing wide open.
“Oh, come on, Fee! Don’t be such a spoilsport,” Kíli called from inside the front room. Fili sighed. In the face of Kíli’s unflagging cheer he hefted his own bags higher and carried them inside, kicking the door shut behind him. He dropped them next to Kíli’s at the foot of the stairs and turned to see his friend looking around the living room, hands on hips, bright grin lighting up his whole face. Fíli smiled, he never had been able to stay annoyed around Kee.
“This’ll be great!” Kíli exclaimed, looking over his shoulder at Fíli. He gestured to the bay windows looking out on the drive. “Some nice curtains, a rug for the hearth, it’s perfect!” Fíli smiled wider and studied the sparsely furnished room. A worn, sagging couch stood alone in the open space, its sad state all the more obvious in the uncluttered room. He shrugged off his heavy overcoat, the day had grown too warm for furs. Slinging it over the fraying armrest he watched Kíli’s enthusiasm with fond amusement. That childlike excitement was one of the things he loved about the vampire, no one else he’d ever known could get so excited about a barely furnished rental in a mixed town of Dwarves and Men. “Sure, Kee,” he agreed, “it’ll be great.” And Fíli meant it too, despite all the snark. For the first time in a long time, he meant it.
Kíli tossed his own leather coat carelessly in the direction of the couch and clapped Fíli on the shoulder. “And,” he added, leaning in conspiratorially, “it’s supposed to be haunted.”
“I take it you consider that a plus,” Fíli said with a laugh. Kíli didn’t have time to reply because a voice behind them snorted and said “Well, it is.”
Fíli’s heart skipped a beat, then thumped painfully. “Mahâl!” He exclaimed, sucking in a sharp breath, his hand flying up to press against his chest right over his wildly pounding heart. He spun around, looking for the source of the voice and felt Kíli’s hand drop from his shoulder. There, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, was a short, red-haired young dwarf. His eyes were so wide Fíli could see the whites around the irises. Really, he looked as shocked as Fíli felt. He was staring, mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
“Who the fuck are you?” Kíli demanded, putting himself between Fíli and the stranger. Fíli put a restraining hand on Kíli’s arm, he couldn’t see his friend’s eyes, but he was willing to bet they were getting darker. Kíli really didn’t handle people sneaking up on him well.
“Wait, you can actually see me?” the stranger squeaked, voice a couple of octaves higher than when he’d spoken before. Then a small frown creased his brow and he added “And don’t curse.” Fíli raised an eyebrow at the mothering tone the young man had taken.
“Of course we can,” he said gently, hand tightening on Kíli’s shoulder when he started to growl. “Why wouldn’t we be able to?” he continued, trying to keep his voice as calm and soothing as possible when faced with the possibility of a startled, enraged vampire. The man looked from him to Kíli and back, wringing his hands in what was obviously a nervous habit.
“But, but,” he sputtered, “but I’m dead!” he finally burst out. Fíli’s mouth dropped open in shock, which only doubled when he felt Kíli’s tense muscles relax at those words. Kíli’s mannerism did a 180 - he stopped growling, the tension sliding out of him, and said “Oh, you’re a ghost. That’s all right, then.”
“Alright!?” Fíli cried, finding his voice again. “There are ghosts? Ghosts are real?” he asked, dismayed to hear his voice rising in pitch with each question, until he was practically squeaking.
“Well, yeah,” Kíli said with a dismissive wave of his hand, like the revelation that the undead existed was no big deal! Kíli walked toward the ghost, leaving Fíli standing by the sofa, flabbergasted. Kíli threw a reassuring look at him over his shoulder and then extended his hand toward the ghost.
“Hi, I’m Kíli,” he said as the ghost took the offered hand. He nodded toward Fíli, who smiled weakly. “And this here is Fíli.” Fíli was just staring, dumbstruck, as Kíli touched – touched! – the ghost. He introduced them with that trademark easy smile and it seemed that not even the dead could resist that expression because the ghost smiled shyly back.
“Ori,” he said, taking Kíli’s hand. “Pleased to meet you.” The ghost – Ori, Fíli corrected himself, his name is Ori – smiled, more sure as Kíli shook his hand, grip firm.
“So,” Ori chirped brightly as Kíli released him, “would you like a cup of tea?” Fíli snapped his mouth shut and wondered how this was his life.