Chapter Text
Though his boots stood upon hardy stone, he could sense no connection to the earth; nor could he feel the icy fingers of a baleful wind that tossed his hair in his face and plucked at his clothes. The grievous wounds he'd taken did not pain him, and he knew with dispassionate surety that he was dead.
The landscape about him was indistinct save for a flicker which caught his attention, like a campfire glimpsed through a murky night. Approaching, he saw that it was indeed a fire, though kindled on bare rock with no other fuel. Its heat was the first thing that had been able to touch him since he'd... awoken, and he drew very near, greedily soaking it in.
"How like you my blaze, son of Durin?"
It was not within his present capacity to be alarmed by the sudden question, or by the tall shape he now spied on the opposite side of the fire. He thought it had not been there a moment before. Where he was a faded ghost of his former self, the figure seemed cut out of smoke and shadows, held in shape by raw will.
"It was laid in anticipation of your arrival."
Mindful of having taken the other's hospitality, he opened his mouth to reply without being certain that his voice remained to him. "It is appreciated. You have my thanks."
"A princely gift," the figure chuckled, and the fire licked toward the sound.
There was much he would ask -- his brother and uncle, the Company and armies -- but first he had to know, "Are you my Maker?"
"Does this look like the waiting halls to you?"
It did not. All was exposed to the elements, with no shelter near. He knew this, though his vision could not penetrate far beyond the ring of firelight.
The other reasoned, "If you were ready to make that journey you would not linger here."
"Do I linger?" The fire's heat delivered the answer as it seeped into him, thawing places that had been numb. Anger and resentment sparked to life, and with them shame. Laments would be sung for him, and a fine tomb carved. His mother would hear that he'd fallen honorably in battle when in truth he'd been helpless against the fatal blow, his hands empty of weapons and fear in his heart.
It should not have been his end. He'd been raised to believe himself better than that.
Grasping something from the ground, the figure dipped it into the fire. "I once served Aule and know much of your kind -- your bloodline in particular. For years I stood watch over your grandsire, and thus I have the means to make his grandson a gift."
The item held out in offering proved to be a massive goblet, solid gold and crusted with jewels, such as belonged in Erebor's treasure hall. Indeed it was so handsome that a king would think twice to put it to common use, preserving it instead for occasions of ceremony. Feeling that this was such an occasion, he accepted with due solemnity.
"Drink," urged his benefactor, "Fili, son of Dis, daughter of Thrain."
The cup held a dose of liquid fire, smoldering darkly yet giving little heat of its own. Doubt stirred in him. "What will happen?"
"That is the gamble. It is possible some stones will remain fixed in your way, impeding your goal, but you have within you the potential to alter the course of the entire mighty river. Whatever happens will be at least partly of your making."
"You speak like an elf," he decided, "or a wizard. Can you give me no plain answer?"
The figure uttered a harsh word, causing the fire to roar and spiral as a great column into the sky. Its light pierced the surrounding gloom, exposing the nearby edge of a cliff before sweeping down to crawl over the valley far below.
Never losing the cup, Fili moved to the icy precipice and took in the scene. If any living souls still toiled upon the battlefield he could not see them. Only the slain, carpeting thick the land before the mountain's gate: dwarves, men, and elves alike. Their numbers were beyond counting, and he understood that the day must end in sorrow.
No, not just sorrow. Defeat and bitterest grief, for when he looked behind him he saw the broken bodies of his brother and uncle. He cried out and meant to run to them, but he was seized by some power and held transfixed.
"Here is your answer. Your lineage is ended. Your kin and allies water the dragon's desolation with their blood. Is it plain enough for you, oh prince?" Cruel point made, the figure gentled its voice with sympathy. "Will you not take the chance I give you to set events down a different road?"
There was no outcome that could be worse than the truth he faced. Fili raised the goblet to his lips and drank.
~~~~~
It wasn't the first time Fili had come to his senses with his brother's arms clamped around him. He knew their sinewy archer's strength at once. A chokehold was the one reliable maneuver Kili could employ to win against him; and Fili had been known, in his pride and stubbornness, to black out for lack of air before yielding.
That traditionally ended the tussle or argument.
"Kee," he panted. "Enough. Need t' breathe."
Kili was trembling, as he sometimes did when furious, but his arms clung more than they squeezed. He rocked back and forth with his face mashed into Fili's shoulder, causing Fili to reflexively hold him in kind.
The sun was near its dazzling zenith, but it was water rather than the sharp light blurring Fili's vision. He blinked back tears, troubled by the tightness in his chest that gulps of fresh air did little to alleviate. If there'd been a fight, he couldn't remember it. In fact, his recent memory was blank, not telling him where they were or how they'd come to be curled together in the dirt. The last thing he could recall was-
"I lost you," Kili was mumbling. "You left me. You left me behind and I stayed. " He hauled Fili down by his braids to stare him dead in the eye. "Never again."
Fili nodded, accepting the threat and promise both. "How...?" As soon as he asked it he realized an odd hesitance to speak of the figure and the flame. Indeed, they were already fading from his mind like a dream not fully grasped upon waking, whereas the battle rushed back to him with a nightmare's tenacity.
"Does it matter?" Kili shot back, finally averting his gaze with something like guilt. If he felt he was hiding secrets then he must have met a similar encounter, and now experienced the same nearly superstitious reticence.
They might compare tales in time. For the present, Fili said, "Not really," and made a show of taking first stock of their surroundings. He paled to recognize the Ravenhill watchtower looming behind, far more foreboding than simple stone should be beneath a crystalline sky.
The phantom sensation of fire curled in his gut.
"If we are here, perhaps Thorin..."
Kili untangled himself and stood, apparently to delay answering. He strode toward the vantage overlooking the valley. It wasn't until Fili joined his side that he said, "Thorin won't follow us. He traded his life for revenge on Azog."
A willing end, in other words, without cause to tarry from a well-deserved rest. "That is just like him." Though saddened by the news, Fili was invigorated by too much strange hope to give up their uncle entirely. "So, whatever is to be done falls to us."
Kili elbowed him. "Fee, look at the-"
"Ho, you two!"
The brothers spun about together, hands flying to sword hilts. It was then Fili realized they were outfitted as they'd been for that final charge out Erebor's gate. The swords he wore were finer than the pair he'd lost to the elves, but held no comforting familiarity.
The dwarf barreling toward them either didn't notice the tension hanging in the air or cared to ignore it. Perhaps he could afford such confidence, wearing good if plain armor, the only decoration the royal insignia worked into the breastplate. "You've no business up here."
A guard. Now Fili understood his unease for the watchtower. It stood intact, mended back to its former purpose. Repairs of that scale would have taken time, and fallen behind other priorities as well. He turned back to the valley, searching out the gate, and could see no sign of the damage caused by Smaug's rampage. From a distance it seemed good as new.
The season was similar to the one they'd left, clear weather with a chill the sun could not ward off. Was it spring? How long had they been... away?
"Are ya listening?" Arms spread, the guard made as if to herd them down the hill. "I said clear off. This is no place for sightseeing."
"Sightseeing," Kili began in a tone that heralded trouble.
Fili cut in front of Kili. "We need to speak with-" Back home, in Ered Luin, guarding had been Dwalin's domain. It should be the same in Erebor, but he hadn't been figuring Thorin's death, or the possibility that Dwalin too might have joined the fallen. Durin's folk held the mountain, that was something, but caution would be prudent without knowing more. "Our apologies if we've strayed where we shouldn't. We've only just arrived to Erebor and meant no harm."
He could almost feel Kili bristling at his back.
The guard's frown softened. "Welcome to ye, then. Dunno what put it in yer mind to climb all this way after... what was the name, laddie? If I know it I'll set ya in the right direction."
Fili discarded name after name as potentially awkward.
"The commander of the guard," Kili said, stepping forward. He threw a quick, unhappy glance at Fili, almost as a warning.
"Oh? And what would you be wantin' the captain for?" The insinuation was clear: what would the captain want with a pair of outsiders? Worse, the guard was eyeing them with overdue suspicion.
"We want to join, of course!" Kili was convincingly eager as he drew himself up and squared his shoulders.
It might have been the first excuse to pop into Kili's mind, but the idea had merit. Fili added, "We didn't want to be caught out as unprepared, though. We don't even know the captain's name." He tried his best to look sheepish.
The guard tugged his beard and hooted with laughter. "Aye, that'd be embarrassing! Fundin's his name, and ya must've come far to not know it."
Fundin? Surely not...
"Eriador," Kili supplied, thankfully vague. If the name had startled him he didn't show it.
"Well, friends from Eriador, trials are every fortnight. The next is in two days; see Dofri at the gatehouse."
Fili inclined his head. "Our thanks."
"Won't you wish us luck?" Kili just had to press.
"Ha! You'll be needin' more than that. Posts are few and competition fierce... although ya look a pair I'd not want to cross in a dark alley. Maybe we'll meet again in the training yard."
"You can bet on it."
"Come on, Kee. Two days isn't much time, and we have a lot to do."
Kili followed a step before turning back. "Speaking of bets, perhaps you could settle one, master guard. My brother doesn't believe there are dragons in these parts."
"Dragons?" The guard's perplexed expression alone gave the answer. "Best pay up, and that's what ya get for listening to fireside tales. No dragon's been spotted here for an age."
"That's what I was afraid of," Kili muttered.
~~~~~
"How did you know?" Fili finally asked.
They'd picked their way down the mountain's spur in silence, first to get low enough that the wind wouldn't lift their voices back to the watchtower, and then because Kili had been absorbed in his racing thoughts. "The trees," he answered late, pulling himself back to the present. "Gate and watchtower could be rebuilt within a year-"
"And Dale?"
They were in a better position now to overlook that whole and teeming city. "Maybe. I don't know. But nothing grew in the desolation when we crossed it, and I remembered Balin describing what the slopes looked like before Smaug burned them." Kili pointed. "Those woods are older than we are for certain." Meaning they'd either gone forward a long time, or they'd gone back.
Fili made a sound that fell short of a chuckle. "Trust the hunter to observe the vegetation."
"What about you? You must have guessed."
"You know Fundin's fate as well as I."
As princes, they'd been fed on stories of the great deeds of their kin for as long as Kili could remember. (He knew from Fili that it had begun even earlier, recollections of their mam humming old ballads over her round belly.) Balin and Dwalin's father had fought in the vanguard at Azanulbizar, and perished there with countless others.
Wait.
"Fili-"
"I don't know."
Kili slowed. "Could we... save them?"
"I don't know," Fili repeated, voice going soft the way it did when busy subduing his emotions. He was more adept than Thorin had ever been at projecting calm despite inner turmoil.
It used to drive Kili insane when Fili managed, in one fell swoop, to fool their mam or uncle and make Kili's behavior look childish in comparison. The downside was that Kili knew him too well to ever be fooled, and had learned exactly where his snapping point was, and how to push him over it.
Given the nature of their situation, that point was too near for comfort.
"We don't know what the year is," Fili went on. "We don't know our purpose, or how much we can change, or if it's even possible. One mistake..."
Fili's purpose had ever been to support the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders, but to say as much would be a nudge in the wrong direction. Kili knew he'd take no comfort from being reminded of a responsibility never far from his mind. A different approach was in order. "We know that Smaug has not yet come; and more, we know the serpent's weakness. Get me a wind lance and a rack of arrows and I'll do the rest."
"You've never fired a wind lance."
"I'll learn."
Fili paused to look back at him, one eyebrow raised. "When? How?"
"I'll join the guard in Dale if I must," Kili decided. "Practice in secret while everyone sleeps. And if Smaug comes tonight I'll steal onto the walls and hone my aim while the city burns around me."
"It won't be so easy. Remember, if Bard spoke true, Smaug will have no weakness before Girion's arrow loosens his scale."
"Wind. Lance."
"I see what you're doing."
The game was already up, so Kili repeated in singsong, "Wind lance," and drew an imaginary bow to shoot into the sky.
Fili marched back up to slug him in the arm -- gently. "It won't work."
"It already has. Admit you love pointing out the flaws in my overhasty plans."
"If by 'love' you mean having done so for nearly my entire life as a matter of self-preservation-"
Kili was suddenly swallowing around a lump in his throat. Death had apparently made him maudlin where his brother was concerned; or perhaps it was the shock of having gained back what he'd thought gone forever. He dragged Fili into a hug, secretly delighted that higher ground he stood on added to his natural advantage of height. "Fee, we'll figure it out. There are no two dwarves, living or dead, who are better prepared for the task. Mam and Thorin saw to that."
Fili took his turn mashing his face into Kili's shoulder. "He might be there, you know. In the mountain."
Kili had done his best to drive that possibility from his mind.
"Half of me is afraid he won't be, and the other half fears what I might do if I see him."
"Try not to call him uncle, for start."
Fili tightened his hold briefly before extracting himself. "Admit you love having answers for everything, no matter how terrible."
Now it could be said. "I'd hardly make a good adviser to my brother the king if I didn't."
"Mahal help us all should that ever come to pass."
~~~~~