So Comes Snow After Fire

3.iv

"What happened?" Fíli asked as his brother came into their shared rooms. Kíli looked very much like he wanted to slam the door, but he closed it softly and deliberately. He hadn't slammed doors since his twenties.

Kíli said, "Thorin came in on Tauriel and me while we were in the far study; you know the little private one with all the tapestries?"

"Oh?" Fili prompted. That fact alone did not seem cause enough for the raised voices he had heard from Thorin's rooms.

"I— Um. I was kissing her."

"Oh," Fíli said again. Just what had his little brother been thinking? "Well, that explains why her face was as red as her hair and she didn't say anything to me when I passed her in the hall just now."

"You know that end of the halls is always empty this time of night!" Kíli said with sudden vehemence. "How was I to know Thorin had forgotten the construction outlines in there?"

Fíli nodded placatingly; his brother's reasoning was sound enough, as far as it went. It really wasn't safe kissing an elf anywhere in this mountain, unless maybe you found a forgotten mine shaft somewhere. Not that Fíli would exactly have recommended doing that, either.

"Was it worth it?"

"What?" Kíli asked, slightly exasperated.

"Kissing her, of course."

"Err, yes..." Kíli's expression lightened somewhat. "I'll probably never be able to face Thorin again in my life, but at least Tauriel wants me," he said self-deprecatingly.

"What did you say to him?" Fíli asked cautiously after a moment.

"More like what did I yell at him..." Kíli corrected miserably. "I told him he isn't my father. And that if being a Durin had to mean more than the people I loved, I didn't want my heritage any more." Kíli slid down the closed door and propped his head up on his hands. "Also I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Kíli, you don't have to—"

"I know. But I don't think I can ever look him in the face again. Not after everything I said. What he said..."

Fíli waited.

"He said I'm a fool," Kíli went on. "Which is true. But I'm not— Not faithless. I— I told him, before, that I would act by the truth with Tauriel. He thought that meant I'd let her go. I let him think that. But it was the only thing I could say! I'd do anything for him, Fíli! I was ready to die for him on Ravenhill. But I can't deny the truth. I can't undo my love for her out of love for him." He gave Fíli a pained look.

Fíli took a seat against the door at his brother's shoulder. He sympathized with Kíli's frustration; he himself had been torn between faith and honor when Thorin had held them all inside the walls while their friends and allies fought and died. He had wanted to offer his kinsman and king unswerving obedience, and yet felt it was impossible.

"Would you give that all away for her? For an elf?" Fíli asked.

"Is that all she is to you? An elf?"

"No. You know she's not," Fíli corrected. "Just... Give it time. I said I'd back you up, and I will. Just let Thorin get used to the idea. Show him you're sure about her, that it's not just a whim." Kíli had always been one to consult universal principles before considering the particular circumstances. His principles were good ones—he was brave and loyal—but that didn't mean they couldn't get him into trouble.

Fíli nudged his brother's boot with his own, and went on, "Kíli, you're my brother. I don't want you to leave. We need you here. Thorin does; and Mum will, too."

"I know," Kíli said softly. "That's why I can't lie to you all."

"No-one's asking you to."

"Thorin is." Kíli's tone revealed how much the idea hurt him.

"Thorin doesn't understand yet. Give him time," Fíli reasoned.

"I can't. I've ruined everything now."

"Kíli—"

"Don't," Kíli interrupted. Then, less harshly, he added, "You don't understand. You've done everything right; you always have. You don't know what it's like to need to do something nobody else wants."

"Kíli, I—" Fíli sighed. "I'm sorry. Just don't do anything you'll regret." There was more he wanted to say, but he knew his brother wouldn't hear any of it right now. When it came to what he believed, Kíli could be as stubborn as Uncle. Or Mum.

"It's probably too late for that," Kíli admitted with a weak laugh.

Fíli sat with his brother in silence for a few more minutes. Then Kíli pushed to his feet with a resigned sigh and made for his bedroom.

"Good night, Fí," he said and turned back to regard his brother for a moment before he closed his door.

"It'll look better in the morning," Fíli returned. He hoped it was true.