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Kíli rested his shaggy chin in his palm, furrowing his brows and clenching his jaw as he watched his older brother play with little Frodo in the distance, his only comfort Tauriel gently braiding his long black locks.
It was an injustice, it really was. Kíli tried hard to befriend the little guy—well, as much as a year-and-a-half-old was capable of consciously forming a friendship—but Frodo seemed intent on hating him.
He never wanted to be held, never. Every time Kíli tried to pick him up, the boy would whimper and struggle to be put down, only to run to Fíli, Bilbo, Thorin, or anyone else and raise his little arms in a clear plea to be picked up.
He didn't want Kíli to go near his toys or his bedroom, pushing him away, yelling loudly, and, a couple of times, even biting his knees with his few baby teeth that had already grown.
"You're young, younger than your brother, maybe he still sees you as... a child, someone who might steal his toys or play pranks on him. I'm sure in a couple of years he'll want to spend all his time with you." Bilbo tried to console him, patting him lightly on the shoulder and smiling kindly.
"You are lucky. When you were little, you and Fíli used to play a game of who could pull out the most hair from me, using my braids as ropes to climb on top of me." Thorin would tell him, fondly remembering the chubby cheeks of his nephews in their youth as he ran his fingers through Frodo's black curls.
"He just knows which brother is nicer, better looking, smarter, and... better!" Fíli would tease him.
“Just give him time, Amrâlimê, and don't push too hard, you'll only make things worse.” Tauriel kissed his temple, leaning down slowly before standing up, a lock of red hair tickling the young dwarf's nose.
“Must you leave so soon, Meleth nîn? Stay the night.” He took her hand, stroking the back of it before kissing it without taking his eyes off hers.
“I'd like to, but duty calls, and besides, you wouldn't have much time for me today, would you?” She smiled at him, stroking his cheek with her fingers.
Kíli looked at her, letting go of her hand, a question mark painted on his face.
Tauriel raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth turning up in a smirk.
“Have you forgotten already?” She asked, amusement in her voice, watching realization strike her beloved's face.
Bilbo and Thorin. Frodo. Damn, it was today!
He kissed Tauriel's hands again, nearly tripping over his own steps as he turned and ran towards the throne room, his limbs feeling much lighter as he heard his beloved's laughter echoing through the halls of the mountain.
He arrived, trying not to show his heavy breathing, cursing when he saw they were all already there. Fíli watched him with a goofy smile, while Thorin stood there with his arms crossed, visibly annoyed.
"I'll be sure to send a raven every hour to remind you of your obligations from now on, Kíli." He scolded, shaking his head softly as Bilbo gently hit him on the shoulder for being so mean to his nephew.
"Don't worry, Kíli, you're here just in time." The hobbit held baby Frodo in his arms, trying with little success to stop the child from putting the soft fabric of his clothes in his mouth.
“Bard wants your uncle at Lake-town to discuss trade between the mountain and them, and I know Thorin well enough to know that if he goes alone, he could get arrested for drawing his sword on a man. We should return tonight. Give him some fruit for a snack; last time, chocolate cake gave him a stomachache.”
He kissed Frodo's chubby cheeks, who looked every inch Bilbo except for his black hair and piercing blue eyes.
“Behave, my little one.” He kissed him again, before carefully passing him to Fíli. The little boy stretched out his arms and laughed at his favorite uncle.
“And behave,” Thorin said instead, indicating his nephews, before planting a tender kiss in Frodo's curls.
“Come on, Ghivashel.” He looked at his consort, heading towards the exit of the hall.
Bilbo gave Frodo another quick kiss and waved goodbye to his step-nephews before quickly following the king.
“So…” said Fíli as Frodo tried to bite one of his blond braids.
“Do you want to go with Uncle Kíli?” The little boy cried out, as if the very idea was repugnant to him.
The blond dwarf laughed at his brother's dismay, while Kíli dreamed of running away with Tauriel into the forest.
_________________
Since the baby was born—
“A little cousin! A little cousin!” He shouted, scooping Bilbo up in his arms and spinning him around.
Thorin looked like he was about to break his sword on his nephew's head.
“I hoped you took it so well,” Bilbo said, panting but happy, as Fíli patted him on the shoulder and smiled.
“Wait, does that mean you and uncle Thorin —no, that's disgusting!”
(Kíli was forced to run away to avoid his uncle's wrath)
-the halls of Erebor began to be dwobbit-proofed, and actual wooden baby chairs were placed in the kitchens.
“Now, little one,” he tried to approach his nephew, moving away when the boy screamed and shook his fists in front of him.
“I just wanted to ask you what you wanted to eat, you ungrateful little thing,” he replied, digging in his heels like a naughty child.
“Leave him alone, brother, he's just a child and you're behaving worse than him.” Fíli pinched his cheeks, making him chuckle, while Kíli grumbled to himself.
“I'll go see if there's any milk or juice we can give him, in the meantime you find something to feed him.”
With that, he walked away, leaving the two alone.
Kíli looked at Frodo, Frodo looked at Kíli.
“It’s just the two of us now, ” he said, feeling only a little ridiculous talking to a baby.
Frodo made a noise that sounded like “I wish I were anywhere but here with you,” but he would have to wait a few more years to say that.
With a sigh, the young man turned, grabbing a juicy red apple from the shelf, rolling it in his hands a few times before placing it on the cutting board and starting to slice it into small pieces.
“You know, I don’t think I’m really the problem with… this. I mean, I’ve never changed your diapers or anything, but I thought we could be friends, you know, partners in crime and stuff.”
He spoke more to himself than to the child, biting his tongue as he heard his brother’s footsteps in the distance, announcing his return to the kitchen. He wouldn’t get caught speaking so seriously to a child.
Then, the footsteps stopped.
And for a second, Kíli swore he felt the air stop.
He didn’t turn around, convinced his brother was giving their little cousin something to drink, but when he heard Fíli’s tone of voice, a shiver ran down his spine.
“Kíli.” He called out to him, using the same tone he'd used throughout their adventure whenever they'd encountered orcs.
Except now the situation seemed much, much worse.
Kíli turned around, the bowl of apple slices still clutched in his hands, looking questioningly at his older brother.
“Where is-?” He asked, looking at his brother with wide, frightened eyes.
“Where is what?” He said, uncomprehendingly, stealing a piece of his nephew's snack.
“Frodo, you idiot, where's Frodo?”
He finally lowered his gaze, noticing only then that the high chair where his cousin had been sitting moments before was now empty.
Damn.
The bowl flew into the air, along with the apple and the knife still clutched in his hand, as the two brothers rushed out of the kitchen.
“A child that small can't have gone far, damn it. A few months ago he couldn't even walk straight, and now he's running everywhere!” Fíli complained as they hastily searched every area and room they came across.
“I didn't even hear him move, damn his silent hobbit genes.” Kíli hissed as he crouched to look under tables and chairs.
“Listen.” Fíli grabbed his shoulders, forcing his brother to look at him. A few blond strands had escaped from his braids and were resting on his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, giving him a mad look.
“If we don't find Frodo, or, Mahal don't make it happen, something happens to him, Thorin will kill us: he'll beat us to a pulp with the consent of Mother, Dwalin, Balin, and everyone else, but the worst part—”
He froze for a moment, as if the very thought made him sick, as if someone were sticking a dagger in his heart and twisting the handle over and over again.
“The worst part is that Bilbo will be disappointed, hurt, and will never, ever trust us again.”
Just the thought made Kíli's heart ache. No, he wouldn't allow himself to be the cause of their hobbit's pain.
“Let's find our cousin. You go to the right, I'll search the lower floors, and if anyone asks, we—we are playing hide-and-seek!” He patted his brother on the shoulder, as if that were a great idea, before running off towards the nearest stairs.
Fíli prayed that everything would go well.
________________
He arrived at the forges, praying with all his heart that the little boy hadn't ended up in perhaps the most unsuitable place for a child in all of Erebor.
"Kíli! Boy, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be taking care of the little one today?" Dwalin's voice echoed off the walls as the boy whirled around and gave him a tight smile.
"Ah, sure, I just came for a little, you know, a walk. These children tire your soul." He laughed, trying not to let his restlessness show.
Dwalin, however, had been dealing with him since he was a baby.
"What are you hiding from me, boy? The last time I saw you make that face, you were setting fire to a wagon while playing with matches. I'm still thankful it was empty."
The man, all muscles and tattoos, came closer, leaning in to look at him through narrowed eyes.
“Is that Ori climbing the ovens?” he said suddenly, looking over the older dwarf’s shoulder.
Dwalin twisted his neck, frowning when he saw no one, least of all Ori.
“Have you been drinking, boy—”
He turned, but the dwarf had already run away.
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Fíli was running like a madman: up, down, left and right, back and forth, hoping to glimpse blue eyes and raven hair.
“Fíli! You look like one of my spinning tops! Are you all right?” Bofur was leaning against a doorframe, a misshapen piece of wood and a small knife in his hand, hacking and carving with great skill.
“Oh, sure, you know, I try to stay fit.” He tried to reassure him, wiping his forehead and breathing heavily.
“Bofur, have you seen Fro-Kíli with Frodo? I haven't seen them in a while.” He tried to ask almost casually.
“No, I saw Kíli running towards the forges earlier, actually, but he didn't have Frodo with him.” He chuckled, returning to his wooden model before stopping.
He looked at the prince again.
“You two—”
“It was a pleasure, Bofur, see you later!” he shouted before running off wherever his heart took him, while Bofur watched him go with a sigh and a shrug.
“Who am I to judge? I once lost mine for two days before finding them.”
_________________
“Come on, come on, Frodo, where are you?”
It was truly strange how time seemed to speed up. The sun had almost completely set behind the mountains, and Bilbo and Thorin would be home in no time.
Of Frodo, still no sign.
“Brother!” Fíli ran towards him, looking behind Kíli, sighing when he saw he hadn't found the boy yet.
“I've looked everywhere: his room, Bilbo and Thorin's, our rooms, Mother's. Nothing, nothing at all! How can a child just disappear like that?!”
He raised his arms, the weapons hidden inside his jacket jingling as he ran his hands through his hair, further messing it up.
“We still have time, okay? We can—”
“Fíli? Kíli?”
They froze.
Please, please, please, don't let it be true—
"There you are! I was hoping to find you in the throne room." Bilbo, always smiling and polite, dressed in a heavy fur coat and crumpled gloves, walked towards the two young men, looking at them.
He wrinkled his nose as he usually did.
"Is Frodo in his bedroom? Is he asleep already? Oh, I have Yavanna to thank for that." He tried to walk past the two, heading towards his son's bedroom to bid him goodnight.
But the two brothers were faster.
"Take it easy, Bilbo! T-tell us how it went today! So, did Thorin kill anyone? How's Bard? I haven't seen him in a while."
Bilbo looked at Fíli, his smile faltering just a little.
The situation couldn't have gotten any worse.
However, it got worse.
Because Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, king under the mountain, appeared behind his consort.
The wrinkles on his forehead deepened as he saw the expression on his beloved's face.
“Boys, how was it today? Where's Frodo?”
Neither Fíli nor Kíli answered, too busy making their knees knock in fear.
Bilbo tried to walk past them again, but they didn't budge an inch.
“Boys, let me go to Frodo.” The smile on the hobbit's face had completely disappeared, giving way to an expression akin to annoyance, while Thorin's face also seemed to change.
“Y-you see, Bilbo, my friend, my favorite uncle—”
He looked at Thorin, immediately lowering his gaze after seeing that fiery gaze.
“F-Frodo is not in his room.” Fíli said, trying to remain calm as best he could.
Kíli, on the other hand, looked like he was about to faint.
“Boys.” They had never heard Bilbo use that tone, perhaps with an orc or when talking about his annoying cousin Lobelia, but never against them.
“Where—” he looked at Thorin, then back at the boys.
“—is my son?”
Thorin looked like he was about to scream, or kill the two young men with his own hands, or both.
Kíli was about to throw himself to the ground and beg for forgiveness, to say it was all his fault and to spare his brother.
“Frodo isn’t in his room because—”
“We lost him! We’re terrible cousins, terrible people, and terrible heirs!” He wanted to scream.
But someone else spoke in his place, a voice melodious and sweet as honey and fragrant as flowers, a voice that he dreamed about day and night.
“Because Frodo is with me! These two wanted to send him to bed without a bath, so I took care of it.”
Little Frodo clung to Tauriel, looking at the woman as if she’d created the moon and stars, babbling softly as he played with her hair and pointed ears.
Both brothers stared at her, mouths agape, unable to believe their eyes.
Bilbo sighed, putting his hand on his chest as he moved towards the woman.
“You guys should have told me, sure, it’s not very hygienic, but I wouldn’t have gotten so mad.” He picked up the baby, smiling at Tauriel in thanks.
“Did you have fun with your uncles, little one? Oh, I missed you so much.” He kissed his rosy cheeks and buried his nose in his still-damp curls, continuing to shower his child with kisses and cuddles.
Thorin also seemed to be calming, expelling the air he was holding from his lungs. He looked at his nephews, as if knowing they were hiding something, before deciding it was best, for his sanity, to let it go and go to his husband and son.
Tauriel, whom Kíli could have married right then, looked up from the happy little family and glared at the two dwarves, her jaw clenching as she looked at Kíli.
She walked towards them, dragging them away without the couple noticing.
"What the hell have you done?! How could you lose a child? You're warriors, you fought against orcs and trolls!"
The elf paced back and forth, running her long fingers over her pale, soft forehead.
"Tauriel, Meleth nîn, I've never been so happy to see you!" Kíli leaped forward, hugging his beloved. His head reached just below her breasts, and Fíli bit his tongue to avoid teasing his brother.
"But how did you find him?" He asked, pulling away from his beloved and clutching her hands to his chest.
"I was just coming back here to see if you needed a hand, and I'm glad I did! Frodo was near the lake when I saw him. You're lucky I was the one who found him; I don't even want to think about Thorin's reaction if he saw his son alone so close to the water.”
Both brothers shivered, thinking of what could have happened, but the worst was over, Frodo was safe.
“I will never again claim to be a better archer than you, I swear to you. I will have statues built in your honor. I will marry you on this very day if you—”
He stopped, his cheeks red with shame, as he realized that he had, almost unwittingly, proposed to his beloved.
He had imagined it, of course he had, but always while he was alone in his room, free to indulge his imagination: he and Tauriel in the halls of Erebor, his beloved strewn with diamonds and gold, dressed in pure white, a white that would make her stunning red hair stand out even more, so beautiful that the starlight seemed a paltry flame compared to the light emanating from—
“If I?” She asked, shyer than he had ever seen her.
Fíli slunk off, returning to his uncles and cousin. All that love would give him cavities, worse than Bofur's sweets!
"If you, well, if you accepted."
He suddenly felt stupid. Stupid, stupid, Kíli! The courtship had been going on forever, if she'd wanted to marry you, she would have asked you, you—
"Yes, of course I would marry you. I have to tell Legolas to come back for the wedding. We could get married in the forest, or here! We can—"
She also stopped, embarrassed.
The two lovers looked at each other, laughing as they clasped hands.
"My king will lose all his hair when he finds out I'm marrying a dwarf, but I don't care." She leaned in, kissing him on the lips, his stubble tickling her chin.
Kíli was about to run out, shouting to the whole mountain and its surroundings that he was getting married to Tauriel, whether they liked it or not, before his uncle and the baby came through the door.
“Someone wanted to say bye,” he said as Frodo, tired and almost asleep, reached out his little hands towards his uncle.
“He wants to punch me,” he said, frowning at the child.
Frodo stammered, waving his hands.
“If you want war, cousin, you—”
“Kíli!” he shouted, clapping his hands.
Time stood still.
“Kili! Kili, Kili!” He continued as if singing a poem.
“His first word! Oh, I’ll tell you the truth, I was hoping for Dada or something like that, but—”
Bilbo looked at Kíli, his eyes wide.
Big tears streamed down the dwarf's cheeks as he leaned forward.
"Frodo! My cousin! I love you so much! I knew, I knew I was your favorite!"
He tried to grab him, but the little boy slammed his hands into his, screaming and clinging tightly to his father's neck.
Okay, no hugs, but that was still a victory.
Now he just had to announce to his uncle that he was marrying an elf.
Child's play.