So Comes Snow After Fire

8.ii

"You've done well," Thorin told his nephews as he gazed along the restored vault of the south halls. "You've made elegant use of what was left here."

The dragon had torn out most of the old columns; and while the destruction had rendered it impossible to restore the stonework in the old, heavier architectural style of Erebor's early days, Fíli and Kíli had improvised with somewhat lighter, airier columns and buttresses. As a result, the ancient and well-trafficked thoroughfare was structurally sound once more, with an aesthetic that looked hopefully to the future rather than vainly trying to recapture a lost past.

"The buttresses were Kíli's suggestion," Fíli offered.

Kíli admitted, "I was thinking of the ones in the guest hall back home."

Thorin smiled. He knew that his nephews, born in exile, still felt a nostalgic tie to the halls where they grew up; it was important they could connect this, their true home, to the only other place they'd ever lived.

"You know I designed that room," Thorin noted, amused. "It's a shame we never used it more than we did."

"Well, this one'll see plenty of use." Fíli's satisfaction was evident in his tone.

"Indeed; and all the better it no longer looks a dragon's den," Thorin confirmed. He turned to face his young kinsmen. "Now that you're done here, you ought to take thought to what new responsibilities you wish to take on. I have a few suggestions, but I'm open to your own requests."

Fíli nodded. "Dwalin asked me to help with armory inventory this sennight, but I'll meet with you about my plans after that."

"Fine," Thorin affirmed.

"Actually, Uncle, if I could speak with you now," Kíli broke in.

"Aye, I've time," Thorin answered.

Fíli's eyes flicked to his brother in surprise and recognition. He excused himself with a slight bow and left.

"Actually, it's about Tauriel," Kíli went on when they were alone.

"I expected it might be."

"I suppose you know: I have no wish to forget her." Kíli's words held no challenge this time; they were simply a statement of fact.

"No, I thought not." If the topic hadn't been such a strained one, Thorin would have been almost amused by the lad's direct approach to the problem.

"Forgive me; I've never meant any insolence. But I love her."

"Kíli." Thorin sighed. "I've said before: this truly isn't about my will or yours. I don't doubt that you care for her, but you're the son of kings. Kings do what we must, not always what we want."

"We do what is right, don't we?" Kíli prompted.

"Yes..." Thorin conceded. He could see where Kíli was taking this.

"I'm asking you to give me a chance to prove that caring for her doesn't require me to betray my family, my honor, or my king." Kíli met his uncle's eyes steadily as he spoke.

"What do you suggest?"

"Allow me to court her. And if doing so impairs my duty here, I will submit to your judgment. I will do what is right."

Thorin regarded Kíli intently. "You're telling me that if I say she does you no good, you'll walk away from her, just like that?" He had not expected his determined nephew to capitulate so easily.

"I am relying on you to judge us fairly," Kíli said earnestly.

"You believe you'll prove yourself," Thorin said, adding what Kíli had so clearly implied.

Kíli nodded.

"Is there any agreement between the two of you?" Thorin knew Kíli took his word seriously; he could trust the lad if he promised this, but what else had he sworn? Kíli wore her token, a strand of her braided copper hair set into a silver cuff on his left wrist.

"No... and yes," Kíli corrected himself honestly. "I've promised her my love. Only that." But in the end, couldn't that mean everything?

"Have you thought of where this will end?" Thorin asked, not so much because he supposed Kíli hadn't, but because he had to know Kíli accepted the only possible conclusion. "If she agrees to you, if you should marry her... No elf could be allowed to stand in line to the throne. You know I'll have to disinherit you." Thorin spoke reluctantly; it was the last thing he wanted for the boy who had always been a dear kinsman.

"Or I could formally renounce my claim," Kíli suggested. It would be less shameful that way, surely.

Thorin took a breath to speak, but stopped himself before he remarked that Kíli had nearly done so already. Kíli looked grateful, as if he guessed what Thorin would have said.

"Aye, you could," Thorin finally said after a long moment. "But how does that leave your family?"

Something bold, almost defiant, flickered in Kíli's eyes. "Thorin, you and Fíli will always have my service, in any way you will ever need it." He paused, the boldness swiftly giving way to vulnerability. "Will you not let me find if my life has a place for all the people I love?"

As Kíli watched his uncle, his face full of hopeful desire, Thorin was struck by how much the boy resembled his mother at his age. Dís had found unexpected happiness after those early hard years of exile, a happiness owed almost entirely to the quiet blond, Víli, who had given her hope for new life after so much hardship and loss. Thorin would never have told that joyful young woman that love did not matter.

Thorin felt his expression soften at the memory. "No, I cannot deny you that," he admitted at last.

"Uncle—" Kíli's eyes were suddenly bright. "Thank you."

Thorin was warmed by Kíli's happiness: wasn't retaking Erebor meant to restore happiness and hope for all of them? If only his nephew had been asking for a dwarven maid, Thorin's pleasure would have been complete.

"Kíli," he said. "I insist you keep your intentions discreet. It would hardly be honorable for the prince of Erebor to seem to offer false attention to any woman."

Kíli nodded. "I understand."

"And I expect you to consult me before offering her your troth."

"Yes." Kíli caught his uncle's hand and bowed over it. "I wish only to prove myself honorable, both to you and to Tauriel."

At Thorin's nod, a sincere smile—the same that had surely won the elf maid's heart—broke over Kíli's face. If only the lad hadn't been gifted with such fine looks, Thorin thought ironically.

"And for Mahal's sake, if you're going to kiss her, don't do it where someone will walk in on you," Thorin finished sternly, though the words were partly meant as a jest.

"Oh, never," Kíli returned, deadly serious.

Thorin only permitted himself to smile once Kíli had turned and gone.