#fikiweek2020

Of course Fíli loved his little brother. That wasn’t even a question. They were family, as close as brothers could get. Fíli and Kíli spent most of every day together and up until recently, spent even nights together as they shared a room far into their adulthood. Then, it was only their mother who encouraged them to sleep across the hall from each other, and though Fíli adored her, he wouldn’t forget who forced endless, lonely nights upon him. Nights without Kíli seemed cold.

But days with Kíli were always bright and warm. No matter what terrors or intrusive thoughts lurked in the darkness, Kíli was always there in the morning to hide all the evils away, like a high tide bringing well worked sand to cover any sharp rocks on the ocean floor. And Kíli himself was just as mesmerizing as the boundless sea.

This Fíli began to notice when Kíli moved into the other bedroom.

That was one thing their separation gave Fíli- this realization that sibling love was not enough. He wanted more.

***

That night when Kíli stated that he was tired and wanted to go to bed for the night, Fíli agreed and led the way to their bedroom. He fully expected his little brother to follow him as he always did. Kíli would crawl into the small bed on his side of the room, leave the candle extinguishing to Fíli, rip off his tunic, throw it on the floor and wish Fíli a good night. It was routine.

Instead, Kíli halted in front of the other door and smiled. “You’re free to snore all you want now,” he said.

It hit Fíli like an ax. “You’ll still hear me from all the way over there.”

Kíli laughed. A sweet sound. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Night, Fee.”

“Goodnight, Kíli.”

Fíli did not snore because Fíli didn’t sleep. He slid his tunic over his shoulders and left it folded in the top drawer. The last candle was extinguished and he was left in the pitch black bedroom. Before his eyes could adjust and remind him he was alone, he said good night to the empty side of the room and climbed in his bed.

Tonight there was no rustling as Kíli tossed and turned until he landed in a comfortable position which happened to be the one he was first laying in. There was no pillow punching or fluffing, no sighing, no Kíli giggles as he thought of the day’s events and no quiet storytelling. None of Kíli’s clothes were there. Those and the bed had been moved across the hall, and yet the room still smelled of him. A scent that was indescribable, but so unquestionably Kíli.

So because he was alone and he could, Fíli jerked himself off. He closed his eyes and inhaled the lingering smell that would soon be replaced with candle smoke and dust and thought of nothing but the old tricks his hand knew to make him finish fast. He came over his bare belly but it wasn’t satisfying, just something to do to make him fall asleep. It didn’t work. He laid there all night and maybe he drifted off a bit, but it felt as if the moon had won out against the sun, and dawn was never going to come.

Until it did. And so did Kíli.

“Miss me?” he asked. He’d barged into their room- Fíli’s room- without a knock as Fíli was dressing.

“Nope.”

Kíli stole the tunic from Fíli’s hands and whipped him with it. “You were right, you know.”

Fíli went after his shirt, but missed. “I’m always right. What are you referring to now?”

“I could hear your snoring from across the hall.” Kíli threw the ball of fabric at Fíli and ran out of the room like a dwarfling racing through a game of Kings and Orcs. His heavy feet could be heard stomping down the hall to safety.

Fíli chuckled. He wouldn’t correct Kíli.

He fished through the oversized tunic for its neck and when his head popped out the other side, he saw Kíli standing in his doorway again.

“What?”

Kíli smiled. Soft, genuine, irresistible. “Missed you too.”

***

As the days grew warmer, Fíli and Kíli would spar together in the early morning. After their father died, Thorin was the one to encourage the training at least a few times a week. He left his nephews to decide when they went out into the far field as long as they actually went.

Although Fíli despised early mornings, he took pity on Kíli who detested the heat that came quickly in the middle of the summer. Fíli himself threw off heat like a forge flame, but while he would glisten with a handsome sheen and healthy glow, his baby brother would simply wilt beneath the high noon sun. Fíli finally decided he’d rather graciously give up a few hours of sleep than listen to Kíli complain and beg to be carried back to the mountain after an abbreviated session.

But getting out of bed at dawn was easier said than done for Fíli.

This morning Kíli woke his brother particularly early to escape the sun’s heat. When he opened the door with enough force to send the knob into the wall with a bang, Fíli only grumbled and flipped over to face the wall.

“Too early.”

“Fee, it’s the middle of the hottest summer Erebor has known in decades.” He whipped the light sheet off Fíli’s body with no mercy. “If we don’t go out to the field now, I’m not going at all and you know what Uncle will say to that.”

“He will drag you out there himself in the peak of the afternoon and beat your ass.”

“And I will die.”

Fíli squinted over his shoulder. “Some Durin you are.” He squished his face into the pillow before Kíli could steal it away. He heard Kíli sigh.

“You know, I had a real nice treat to give you this morning, but now I don’t think you deserve it.”

Fíli flopped to his stomach, rolling slightly so he could look at Kíli with one eye. “What was it?”

“Not telling.”

Kíli left. And Fíli wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t. Fíli could have easily taken hold of his brother and dragged him into his bed to spend the rest of the morning in a sleepy haze. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d shared a bed after years of adolescence and months spent traveling. Maybe this time Kíli would shimmy down the bed so he could rest his head on Fíli’s shoulder. Maybe they’d tangle their limbs together and make a cocoon of their own, only busting out like ripe, seasoned butterflies when they were too hungry to stand it. But Fíli was sure he’d starve himself before leaving a shared bed with Kíli.

Real nice treat indeed.

However, Kíli had left and he’d let the door swing open on his way out. The smell of freshly baked cakes wafted into the room, past Fíli’s fantasies, and between his nose and the soft pillow that specific feature was currently stuffed into.

“Ma made your favorite and I’m going to eat them all!” Kíli called.

By the time Fíli stumbled from his bed, full of grumbling and embittered sighs, Kíli was standing in the doorway with one of the sacred cakes in his hand. He lifted it to his mouth and watched Fíli’s reaction carefully.

“If you don’t save me one I’m going to slice your throat with my dullest sword,” Fíli said, standing in the middle of the room with hair so disheveled, it rivaled a warg’s tail.

Kíli shoved the cake in his mouth- a mean feat for spite. “You’d never do that,” he said around the sweet treat that filled his maw to the brim. “You love me too much. You’re just grumpy in the morning.”

Fíli’s groggy eyes sharpened like a pair of daggers when he trudged in the kitchen and saw his mother’s baking plate sitting in the middle of their small dining table. The dish boasted its neatly painted decoration along with a few crumbs toward the center, but no cakes.

Before Fíli could find a more menacing threat for his brother, the culprit, Kíli took the last cake from his pocket and held it out to Fíli.

“For you, brother,” he said. “And I hope you remember this kind act next time you try to intimidate me with your dullest sword.”

Fíli took the cake, stuffed it in his mouth, and smacked the back of Kíli’s head as he walked out the door. “Come on,” he said, leading the way. “Before Your Highness melts in the heat.”

Melt, Kíli did. After a half hour of sword training and about the same of hand-to-hand sparring, Kíli was dripping and his once crisp clothes were drenched. To his credit, he wasn’t yet drooping or wilting, for he’d grown stronger and more tolerant over the years, which Fíli began to notice. Yes, he noticed.

Fíli noticed how perfectly messy Kíli’s dark hair looked when all of it was pulled into one clip on the back of his neck. His stubborn bangs and whisps of errant locks around his pointed ears clung to his damp skin and flew around like raven’s wings whenever he moved his head.

And Fíli noticed when Kíli shed his last layered tunic and threw it on his pack, leaving his tanned skin gleaming in the low sun. More hair sticking, more lean muscle rippling, more sweat dripping down his bare torso. His chest was heated red and heaving from the effort he was putting forth into his training.

“I’m too old for you to be taking pity on me, Fíli. Don’t go easy.”

Fíli handed Kíli the cool canteen from his own pack in the shade and watched as his brother gulped at it. Rogue drops slid from the corner of his pink lips, down his jaw, and pooled in the divots and hollows of his neck. The skin was tossed back Fíli’s way and Kíli turned his back, lifting his hands over his head for relief.

Fíli forgot how thirsty the morning’s work had made him. His mind was elsewhere.

With Kíli this breathless, it wouldn’t be an awfully hard feat to press his back up against a tree. Touch him. Kiss him. Feel his heart beating under Fíli’s wide palms. Kíli had seen his brother bare from the belly up hundreds of times, but what would he think if Fíli ripped his tunic off his body and pressed their chests together? Plunged his tongue into Kíli’s waiting mouth and nipped at his lips? Stood on his toes so he could grind his hips against his little brother’s? Would anything stand at attention in greeting? Which words would come from his mouth-

In an instant, Fíli was knocked to the ground with the air slapped from his lungs.

“You should follow your own advice, brother. Never let your guard down.”

Kíli hovered over him with a smile like fire- bright, hot, and hypnotizing. His hands were planted on either side of Fíli’s head until one lifted to wipe the drip from his eyes. “Now, let’s get back to the house, hm? Sun’s rising fast.”

Fíli hummed, relishing his brother’s closeness for another moment, before knocking him off balance and to the ground. He fearlessly slotted his entire body over Kíli’s in a power move that scratched his fantasy itch for the moment. “Another piece of advice, little one. Don’t get cocky.”

***

Months passed, but spending nights alone in their- his- bedroom didn’t get any easier for Fíli. He refused to grow used to it. But he did grow more clever, more convincing, more creative in finding ways to share his nights with Kíli. The pair would go on hunting trips that lasted days longer than planned. After hours of traveling and tracking that quickly turned into swimming and picnicking, Kíli and Fíli slept under the stars. Kíli would share his secrets and Fíli would attempt to give advice and end up spilling his own fears and before he knew it, the sun was warming the blanket they shared and Kíli was slapping him awake. “I forgot how loud you snore!” he’d yell and scare every bird within a two league radius.

But this night was one both the brothers had been looking forward to for weeks. It was Kíli’s 75th birthday.

The day had flown by as Fíli knew it would. Their mother had made a delicious breakfast that Kíli barely got a bite of because of the constant callers that began their visits just after sunrise. Thorin made an appearance before dragging both brothers to the forge for the day. No rest for the weary, and no time off for the line of Durin. Apparently.

Which is why Fíli had planned a night in Kíli’s favorite pub after a tiring day and a refreshing supper with their mother. Kíli deserved time to kick back and celebrate. Three quarters of a century was quite a milestone, even for a dwarf. And if he partied a little too hard, Fíli would be there to take him back home and taunt him about it all in the morning.

But an ax was thrown into his carefully laid out plans.

“What do you mean you-” Fíli lowered his voice, grinding out the rest of his sentence to Bofur. “What do you mean you ‘got him a dam’?”

Bofur’s shoulders rose in a shrug and stayed pinned to his ears as he tried to explain. “Well, you know, someone to... treat him well on his birthday.”

The dam was already doing just that. She sat in Kíli’s lap, skirts rucked up to the middle of her thighs as she kissed his beat red cheek that was rounded with his grin. She took his hand and led it along her leg and under her skirts and Kíli’s entire stature went from sweet and tipsy to focused and lustful in a single blink of an eye. Fíli’s stomach sank at the sight.

“I thought that’s why we brought him here,” Bofur said.

“We brought him here because Kíli likes the pies.”

“He’ll be getting some sort of pie,” Dwalin said from behind Fíli. A heavy hand came down on Fíli’s shoulder as he continued. “Let the lad have his fun. You’ve had plenty a workin’ dams yourself, Fíli. Share the lot with some of us!”

That sent the dwarves around into a laughing fit, but Fíli’s veins filled with stone. As he watched Kíli get pulled from his seat and led up the stairs, he couldn’t even nod his head, though he knew Kíli was waiting for his brother’s approval. But when Kíli tried to stop, he was only yanked forward by that shrieking little dam with red hair and a tightly tied corset. Then he was gone.

And so was the rest of the party.

“He’ll be up there for the rest of the night!”

“And into the morning, if he’s lucky!”

Fíli barely heard the voices from outside the tavern. He stood still as a statue, feeling an oversupply of emotions swirling through him like stale beer, threatening to make him lose all that he’d drunk so far.

“Fíli, you coming?” Bofur asked.

“No,” he said. “Go on with the others. I’ll wait for Kíli.”

“He could be all night.”

Fíli didn’t look from the frothy golden ale in his mug. “He’ll need someone to walk him home.”

Even after Bofur left, Fíli wasn’t left alone. Not completely. His thoughts crowded him and taunted him just as his friends had. He knew this wasn’t the first time Kíli had taken a lover for the night, but this was the first time Fíli ever had anything to do with it. In fact, this time, he felt like he had front row seats for it all. He could practically hear his brother upstairs in the corner bedroom, moaning and groaning at the tricks all those dams knew.

Yes, Kíli deserved to be worshipped, but whatever that paid lass was making him feel wasn’t real. No one else could give Kíli a sliver of what Fíli could give him.

He wanted to be the one touching Kíli now.

Fíli pushed his half empty mug away and let his mind wander. He could easily conjure the image of Kíli lying naked on a bed- his bed. He’d thought of it so many times before in the past months. Wriggling and writhing; impatient, yet lost in bliss. Long fingers gripping the sheets, or Fíli’s hair or arms as he left his marks. Pink rings of teeth, purple medals of not-so-honorable but oh, so delicious suction, shining sheens of sweat over his forehead or down his back, thick fluid pooling over his belly and coating raven curls.

He could see his brother’s face as he realized what it meant to be cherished, teased, appreciated. Loved.

Someone sat across the table from Fíli and he felt a snarl unfurling in his chest. He looked up to deliver it, but instead- “Kíli.”

How long had it been? Those around him had barely moved, but that didn’t tell him much. The dwarves he knew could drink for hours on end before feeling the urge to move for any reason. Then he found the clock on the wall.

“That was quick,” he said.

“Time enough,” Kíli said. There was a permanent flush on his chest from his… activities, but now his ears caught under Fíli’s glare. “Not exactly what I was expecting for tonight. But there are some things you can’t exactly say no to when they’re, uh, right in front of you.”

Fíli stood. “Let’s go. You ready?”

Kíli caught his arm. “Wait. Have a drink with me.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Fee,” Kíli said, chasing him around the table. “I’ve barely seen you all day. Just one drink.” He clasped Fíli’s shoulders, standing close enough for his scent to wrap around Fíli like a well worn blanket. He only smelled like Kíli, no one else. Granted, he smelled like a Kíli who’d had their bedroom to himself in his adolescent years, but he didn’t smell of any dam or any tavern bedsheets. Only Kíli.

Brown eyes twinkled. He knew he’d won. “You’re buying,” Kíli said, pulling Fíli to sit at the table.

“As if you’d ever buy.”

With a slap on the shoulder and a scoff, the two settled in at their table. They sipped from their mugs, arguing, teasing, and reminiscing on another year gone. The evening’s blight was forgotten, despite the working dams circling the pair like vultures for a kill. They and their feathers were eventually shooed away by the tender who kept the tavern open an extra hour thanks to the golden prince’s gentle persuasions.

Though Fíli did his best to stretch out another night with his brother, they too soon had to head for home.

They ambled along as one mass, arms wrapped around a thinner waist or draped over shorter shoulders. One section of the mass tripped, sending it toppling over and down to the ground, but somehow it found its way home after much ribbing about a certain half failing to keep up with the other, birthday or not.

When the challenge of fitting through the backdoor of their home presented itself too difficult, the dark half pulled away, like a bubble growing out of too much soap and separating from the main suds to float through the air.

“Wait,” Kíli said.

“What?”

Kíli took the heavy blanket from the top of the wood pile by the door and shook out the dust. Then he laid it messily out on the ground, ignoring the lumps of fabric in the middle. “Let’s sleep out here tonight.” He plopped down harder than he meant to and watched the clouds above that kept the earth warm while the sun was away.

Fíli joined him and felt sleep’s lure the moment he settled down at Kíli’s side. But his eyes snapped open, wide awake, when Kíli rested his head on Fíli’s shoulder and sighed. Content.

“Happy birthday, Kíli.”

“Thanks, Fee. For everything.”

***

No matter how Fíli tried, there were still nights he spent alone in his room. Though he’d lay on the bare mattress- blankets kicked to the floor and pillows thrown far away- he still felt suffocated. As the hours between dusk and dawn stretched on, his thoughts pounded in his head, like a hammer bludgeoned fiery metal in a forge.

He was completely alone, and would be for the rest of his life. He’d watch his brother, his One, eventually find someone else to love and make a life of his own without him. Fíli would keep Kíli as long as he could- he was an island whose waves crashed on the shore and destroyed each getaway raft, and whose fires extinguished any hope of forging another escape. But soon, someone would see the smoke and make a daring rescue, stealing from Fíli what he so longed to keep for himself. It was only a matter of time. He would be left utterly desolate.

Yet, he was constantly and forever surrounded, mauled by his people, his king, and his duties. The stress of his realm lived on his shoulders and drove him far down into the ground, below any mine ever built, until his worst fears would be realized: he could never be a good king. And what was the point of ruling if he couldn’t do his people the justice they deserved? He knew ‘King Fíli’ would never be celebrated, only cursed, and the line of Durin would crumble under his throne.

Uncle Thorin says pressure builds diamonds. For Fíli, it only made him crack.

And so the dark nights went on. Sometimes he would doze in a light, distant sleep, but he would soon wake and mull over which was worse- his latest nightmare or his future as king. Often before he came to a conclusion, he would drift off again, diving back into very real images of his people spitting on him, stoning him, despising him- and facing it all completely alone.

When dawn finally came this morning, he found his bed neatly arranged around him. A pillow lay under his head and a blanket covered him comfortably, though he distinctly remembered tossing it all away in the middle of the night. It was as if the terrors of the darkness never came. With all of his might, he decided he had imagined it all and went to find Kíli.

Sneaking up on Kíli never worked. Not since he had started hunting with his bow. His senses were far too keen for his heavy-footed brother, but he didn’t turn from his focus as Fíli approached. Just off the hill behind their home was a deer and her fawn, grazing on the fresh, dewy grass and Kíli watched them, fascinated.

With Kíli’s focus elsewhere, Fíli was briefly allowed to admire the golden halo of the sunrise that left the crown of Kíli’s hair red and glowing. But Kíli caught him and smiled.

“Rough night, last night,” he said.

“I’m sorry if I woke you.”

Kíli shook his head. “You put too much pressure on yourself, brother.”

“Considering what Uncle has planned, I think I’m putting exactly the right amount of pressure on myself.”

“But that doesn’t mean you have to face it all alone.”

The deer fled. Big and small, together they ran across the field and over the hill, into the safety of the trees. The bushes quivered in their wind and a small flock of birds flew through the pink sky.

“You’re scaring the animals.”

“This isn’t funny!” Kíli hissed. “What kind of a life is this for you? Spending full days in council meetings and never sleeping at night?” He blew out a breath and set a heavy hand on Fíli’s shoulder. “Why won’t you ever lean on me? A king does not rule alone, he has his council and his army. His family.” A squeeze. “You are never going to be alone so stop acting like it.”

Kíli always knew.

Fíli’s view of him was framed with clear, waving tears. He blinked them away, brushing the one rogue droplet off his cheek. Though he opened his mouth to speak, no sound would come.

Kíli rubbed his shoulder. “You’re exhausted. Let’s go down to the lake today and lay out under the trees, hm? Have a swim and some rest.”

“Yeah,” Fíli nodded. “Sounds good.”

“But first, breakfast. I could eat a whole warg after worrying about you all night.”

Fíli smacked him. But before he could lead the way inside, Kíli stopped him. Kíli said his name, took hold of his arm, and barely cupped his jaw with trembling, nervous fingers. The wet line on Fíli’s cheek, the remnants of any fear between them, was wiped away. Then Kíli kissed his lips. Tender and protective.

“I love you,” Kíli said.

He kissed Fíli again. Fíli kissed him back with everything he had.

***

Of course Fíli loved his little brother. And Kíli loved him back, that wasn’t even a question. “I love you” had always been something said often and anywhere and those around just assumed the brothers were as close as family could get. Which was true.

But now, “I love you” not only meant “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” and “You’re everything to me.” It also meant “You are mine and I am yours regardless of what happens and regardless of who tries to come between us. I will care for you, fight for you, and love you forever. Brother.”

It didn’t take long to move all of Kíli’s things back into their bedroom. This time the two beds were pushed together into one, as were the brothers. Kíli still left his tunics on the floor and Fíli still extinguished all the candles before climbing into bed and acting as Kíli’s pillow.

Kíli remembered its original quite clearly: the single, long banner of silky mulberry paper folded concertina-style between two brocade covers tied shut with ribbons.  Fíli had pretended, of course – fingering every other item on the shelf in a great show of indifference – but the journal commanded his interest to the exclusion of all else in the shop.  

Proud to the core, he never asked for much and confessed to few needs in this life.  But that day on Nevsky Prospekt, he wanted that one thing— enough to cobble together a clumsy facsimile at home.

Kíli immediately dispatched his valet with orders to arrange a certain item’s delivery to Liteyniy Avenue.

It arrived plainly wrapped, without a note, as if from a secret admirer.   When Fíli unwrapped it, he gave a wordless cry of joy—then, like a magpie, he immediately flew upstairs to hide his treasure.  

Kíli had never dreamt of asking where the journal had gone, or what thoughts and memories now existed between its covers.  Did it matter?  Even if Fíli never wrote in it –  even if he only looked at the journal, sat and stroked it or played with opening and closing it – it made him happy, which made Kíli happy.  

Still, sometimes he idly wondered where Fíli had squirreled away the journal.  Someplace veiled in mystery, no doubt.  At the bottom of the waist-high vase that held a plume of dried pampas grass… behind a hidden wall panel… thrust under the mattress as far as his arm could go…

Today, Kíli went hunting through their shared desk for a letter opener.  Teasing open a bottom drawer, he came upon an object that prompted first astonishment, then a fond smile.  

It had been there all along—not hidden, not really, though Fíli had half-wrapped it in the scarf Kíli gave him when they first loved one another.  He’d never thought to conceal his secrets from the one he trusted… which meant, perhaps, that there were no longer any secrets to conceal.