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The Choice of the King

Thorin lay awake. Sleep eluded him, as it had done for the last week. In the week since Tauriel came to them and he had learned of his nephew’s betrayal and that there had to be consequences, had he been unable to sleep. In the three long days during Tauriel’s labor and in the aftermath, his mind has been attempted to get changed by his sister, Tauriel herself, and both of his nephews. Many of their words were etched in his thoughts like carven runes in cold stone. All these were the reasons for his sleepless nights.

Thorin had considered it all a thousand times over and over in his head. He knew every angle, every option, every solution, yet he could not make a decision. He thought of his nephew, and his daughter, and her undeniable claim to the throne. He thought of his sister, and how much they had both lost in their long lives. So many deaths and so many disappointments. He did not think she would forgive him another.

Everything was too complicated. How could he possibly make a decision?

Thorin rolled over on his back and exhaled heavily. He threw away the pelts covering him, and sat up in the bed with his legs over the edge. The hour would be closer to midnight than dawn, and yet he could not sleep, for the energy surged in him; from his stressed mind, throughout his body and limbs. His fingers tickled with restlessness as he took the pants lying on the chest next to his bed and a pair of boots, and got dressed with impatient movements. He did not bother with a shirt, as he was burning hot from all his thoughts. Walking out of his chambers with angry steps, he muttered to himself of all the annoyances that kept him awake.

«Would Mahal clear the world of the nuisance that is family matters,» he growled under his breath, and walked down the hall past the chambers of his family, eventually coming to the dining room. He continued through and once in The Hall of the Kings he took left and went through the archway next to the one he had just come out of.

He walked through the dark corridors for a time and entered eventually the training room of the royal family. It was a big hall, as other training areas, though more richly equipped and with tapestries of kings in battles all around the room. The biggest one was of Durin VI, as he battled the Balrog and was defeated. It was not a fond time in the history of the dwarves, but it was important, and was appreciated for its significance. Thorin always spend some moments beholding it and remembering that even the mightiest king may fall at the hands of his foes. He bowed his head in the memory of his ancestor, and turned away.

The room was grand, with a big arena in the middle, carved down from a plateau that went along the walls all around the room. On the far left side was an area with shelves and racks with weapons of various kinds.

Thorin walked over to the rack with the battle-axes. They were beautiful to behold, richly engraved and bejeweled, and he lifted the greatest of them. These were the axes of his father and grand-father, which had been lost in the desolation, and then found again when he retook the mountain. He remembered them from his childhood, how heavy they had been and hard to wield for a young dwarf, though he watched his father move them swiftly and easily.

Carefully and slowly he swung it around, feeling the force and weight of the deadly weapon. Axes had never been his natural choice in battle, but these held such importance, and just holding it brought him closer to the good memories of his father. He kept moving, with both hands on the handle, wielding it with respect and admiration. He sighed and straightened himself, holding the weapon out in front of him. He let his hand glide over the metal, which looked untouched by the two hundred years in the dragon’s captivity. It was still sharp and deadly, and Thorin racked it carefully. It was not his weapon.

Thorin walked over to the swords, and lifted his own sword which stood on the rack beside the other dwarven-made swords. «Orcrist,» He said with a smile. His smile died and his brows creased as he thought about its origin; forged by the elves in the first age of middle earth. Was it then so bad to accept Tauriel into his home and family? After all, he had done it before. The sword had become a part of him, was it then so wrong to let his nephew marry the elf?

He swung the sword and turned around with a powerful attack. What he had not anticipated was his nephew standing behind him. Thorin exclaimed and the sword barely missed his nephew’s neck, as Kíli fell backwards of the surprise.

«Kíli!» Thorin roared and moved to help his nephew off the ground. «What are you doing here?» He demanded when Kíli stood before him again, out of breath and wide-eyed of the shock.

«I… I wanted to see you.» He was perplexed and instinctively rubbed his hand over his neck. His face bore a mixture of surprise and fright, and he laughed nervously.

«You should know not to sneak up on someone who’s wielding a weapon, lad,» Thorin laid a hand on his shoulder, shook his head in exasperation and laughed. «Had you been an inch closer, you’d lost your head.»

«Yes. I’m sorry, uncle. But I thought it to be the only time you’d see me.» Kíli’s eyes grew sad suddenly, and his gaze wavered from Thorin’s. He did not know how to begin speaking of what he wanted to say.

«What do you mean?» Thorin mumbled and turned away from his nephew to place his sword on it’s rack. In truth Thorin knew perfectly well what his nephew meant, for Thorin had avoided speaking to him for a week.

«We have barely spoken since the birth of my daughter.» His eyes were hard as he fought not to show his uncle the pain he felt by his negligence.

«I didn't realize.» Thorin said nonchalantly, then suddenly remembered his naked chest. He cleared his throat for the awkwardness of the situation.

«I have been thinking since Tauriel came here, since you stopped talking to me. I realize I have failed you with all that I did, and then I remembered that I never truly apologized for my actions.» Kíli stood with his head and shoulders hanging, yet his eyes held Thorin’s.

«Kíli, I…» Thorin began.

«No, uncle, I need to say this. I truly apologize for all the ways I’ve wronged you, though I cannot go on like this. I will not stay here if that means never having you speak to me again, and if that is the case I would rather go away to live with Tauriel and our child somewhere else in the world. I will not divide our family more than I’ve already done, and leaving so that the rest of you may live in peace seems the only right thing to do.» Kíli exhaled through his nose after his speech. His hands were in fists and his lips were pressed together determinedly.

«Let’s talk about this before you do anything you’ll regret.» Thorin insisted. He was not ready for this conversation, yet he knew it was time.

«What is there to talk about?» Kíli raised his head and looked at Thorin with a desperate expression, his voice demanding and full of sorrow. «Your silence during the last week is all the indication I need that you do not want me to stay. I wish you would just tell me now, so that I can spare you any more trouble, and prepare my family for departure.»

«It is not that easy, Kíli. I cannot…,» Thorin stammered, trying to find the right way to explain his trouble. Kíli cut him off with a sneer.

«Do you know what isn’t easy? It isn't easy walking around this kingdom we both fought for, having our people talk behind my back because you do not acknowledge me, and having the woman I love feel unwanted and homeless in the one place I want to build us a home.» Kíli sneered angrily, his eyes filled with sadness and desperation. His hands were in fists and for the first time in his life he wished to punch his uncle. «I do not know what to do, because you won’t speak with me, and I am so angry, I… I do not know what to do with myself. Therefore I would rather have you exile me, if that would make things easier for you.»

«You are not going anywhere!» Thorin boomed, hitting the weapon rack with his fist so the sound echoed throughout the hall. He then exhaled and spoke through his teeth: «Damn it, lad, of course you’re not being exiled.»

Kíli stood as frozen, his expression hard and suspicious. «What?»

Thorin exhaled and scratched his beard tiredly. His eyes turned to Kíli, as the nephew eyed his uncle with wondering eyes. «Let us sit down, Kíli. We need to talk.» Thorin gestured to the table in the corner beside the archer targets. Some barrels of mead stood beside the table for pauses during training. Thorin grabbed two flagons of the few that stood on the table, and filled them to the rim.

Kíli stood a few moments with wrinkled brows, looking like he considered his options, before he decided to sit down. He folded his hands on the table, and kept his gaze at Thorin.

Thorin took a mouthful of mead, then passed the other flagon to Kíli. He decided they needed the comfort of the drink if they were to make it through the conversation ahed. Kíli had a hint of surprise in his eyes as he accepted the flagon, but he nodded thankfully and drank greedily.

«How did you know I was here?» Thorin spoke with a soft expression on his face.

«I have barely slept the last week. I heard your footsteps pass my door, and I decided this was the only time you would actually speak to me directly, with nothing and no one to excuse you.» Kíli spoke carefully, though his words were clearly full of spite. His eyes were softer as well.

«How did you know it was me?» Thorin asked quietly. He lowered his eyes, for he felt the guilt and he knew he deserved it. He had actively avoided Kíli after the events surrounding Kíliel’s birth.

«Ever since I was little I have been able to recognize your footsteps. When Fíli and I lived in the Blue Mountain as children, I would lie awake wishing for you to come home from your travels, and whenever you did return I would hear your stomps in the morning in the next chamber, and I would run to you.» Kíli smiled of the warm memories. Then his smile grew cold. «I never tell Fíli this for he remembers our real father, but to me you were our only father. You were always there for us, for me…,» Kíli lowered his eyes, and pressed his lips together.

Thorin watched Kíli as he spoke, and his breath came shallowly. Without thinking he reached across the table and put one of his big palms on Kíli’s folded hands. Kíli looked up at him, his eyebrows curled upwards, and his eyes pleading with sadness.

«I will always be your father, Kíli,» Thorin murmured as he lowered his eyes, his heart unable to bear the expression on his nephew’s face.

Kíli moved one of his hands from under his uncle’s to lay it on top of them. Their eyes met again, and Kíli smiled faintly, though his eyes still had a look of sadness about them. There would be a long way to go to heal the father-son relationship between them after all that had happened.

After a moment of silence Kíli moved his hands away from Thorin’s and into his own lap. His expression turned sombre. «I need to know what you want with me. Am I to stay or am I to leave? It’s got to be one way or another. And if I stay, so does Tauriel.»

«Kíli, you have to understand that I…» Thorin’s voice failed him. His hand was a hard fist beside his flagon as his stormy blue eyes held Kíli’s. «I love you; ever since I held you in my arms for the first time have I loved you. I promised your father to watch over you like my own, and that I have tried to do, even when it became too hard for me to do what is expected of me. Because, Kíli, there is nothing more important in my life than you and your brother.»

«Is that why you haven’t said anything?» Kíli felt his heart fall in sadness. «You know it is right to banish me, but you won’t do it because you love me? Uncle, I never thought…» His voice trailed off, and he exhaled heavily, lowering his eyes. The guilt laid heavy in his stomach as he swallowed. His thoughts of his uncle had all been accusing, when Thorin had done nothing but think of him and his brother.

«No.» Thorin said assuringly, though too quickly. He thought about it, and exhaled heavily. «I mean, yes and no. The reason I cannot let you leave is that I love you, and the reason I cannot allow you to stay is that I am king, and must uphold our laws without questioning them. And yet I cannot make that decision, for I wouldn't bear to lose you. Therefore I postponed, avoided you and told myself it was fine as long as we didn't speak.»

«Then you are selfish to make me stay.» Kíli scoffed and looked away. «You inflict so much pain simply for your own failure to act out what is expected of you. Had you told me to leave right away we could both have been spared the agony of the wait.» Kíli was angry now, for Thorin’s reason was not what he had expected.

«Yes, I am selfish.» Thorin admitted sourly, clenching his jaws. «But I have already lost so much of my family, and the last thing I want to do is to split up the little that remains.»
By those words Kíli returned his gaze to his uncle, who seemed small as he sat before him. He thought about it, and took a deep breath. Nothing in the world seemed easy at this moment. Why could it just never be easy?

«Is there no other way then?» Kíli looked at his uncle pleadingly. «What are the options?»

«I have gone through it all in my head the last week. There are only two; either I betray my vow as king and break our ancient laws, or I exile you.» Thorin put his hand over his face, and exhaled defeatedly.

«No, there must be another way,» Kíli straightened his back suddenly, folded his hands in front of his face and leaned his elbows on the table. He had an alert expression as he went through the options. There must have been something they have overlooked, some way around the laws which did not involve giving up their honor as dwarves. He could think of nothing.

Kíli exhaled and sank back down after a moment of silence between them. He rubbed his face, and shook his head slightly. «If only there was a way to change the laws…»

He met his uncle’s gaze with a down-hearted expression. Thorin on the other hand seemed suddenly to have awoken of a sleep-like trance. He looked at Kíli with a look of surprise and unexpected hope.

«What is it?» Kíli said, alert of his uncle’s sudden change of mood.

«You are right, we cannot live like this, never speaking to each other. It is time for me to make a decision, as the King. I cannot avoid this anymore; it is too important to me.» Thorin cleared his throat and rose from his seat. He walked around the table with decisive steps.

«What will you do?» Kíli was surprised, taken aback by Thorin’s sudden movement, and rose awkwardly to follow his uncle out of the hall. «Thorin, what is your choice?»

«Follow me, lad, there is someone we must speak with.» Thorin sounded almost excited as he rushed away from the training hall with his nephew rushing to follow.

They walked as quickly as dwarves could, through the Hall of the Kings, out past the royal quarters, walking in the dark corridors of the night, past chambers of their people, through the forges, and further into the mountain. They passed several guards, none willing to question the nightly stroll of the bare-chested King and his nephew.

Kíli’s suspicion grew as they walked further and further, until at last they came to the quarters of the generals and advisors, in the far south part of their realm, a floor underneath the arrival hall and the captains chamber where they had met Legolas a week before. They had walked for nearly an hour and Kíli wondered not little who they had come here to see.

Thorin walked left into another corridor and they entered The Great Hall of Council. The room was a perfect circle, with a matching, great table hewn out of the floor stone, with fifteen chairs surrounding it, one for each of the council-members. On the south end stood a greater chair than the other, the one reserved for the King. Kíli had not often seen this room, though his brother had spent much time here the last year, as he learned more and more of his responsibility as the future king. There had been much to arrange, still two years after the re-taking of Erebor. Two hundred years in the possession of a dragon had damaged the kingdom and much rebuilding remained, both within the kingdom and in the spirits of its people.

After another few dark corridors Thorin stopped outside a copper laid wooden door and knocked heavily three times. «Balin?» He roared and knocked again. «Open the door, we must speak with you!»

After a moment the lock clicked and the door opened to a surprised and half-asleep Balin with his eyes squinting and his beard tousled. He wore a dark, blue tunic for sleeping. Clearly they had awoken him from a deep sleep. «My King? What is going on? Are we under attack? Where is the dragon?»

«The dragon is dead, Balin, do you not remember? But we need your advice.» Thorin urged impatiently and pushed past his advisor into the chamber. He moved to light a candle and sat down in Balin’s chair by the table in the room.

«Come on in, my Lord,» Balin mumbled quite flurried, and closed the door behind Kíli as he too entered the room. Kíli still had no idea what Thorin was doing or why they had interrupted Balin in his private chamber. He was alert by his uncle’s strange actions. Though nothing in his kingdom was off limit for the king, it was highly unusual to invade sleeping chambers during the night.

«Balin,» Thorin began, his hands folded in front of his face as he sat leaning back in the chair, considering something only he knew. «I have been struggling with my decision concerning Kíli.»

Balin waited patiently, or maybe he was too tired to urge, while Thorin paused to think again.

«I have decided I cannot exile my nephew. You of all dwarves know how much I have lost in this life, and he is part of the little family I have left after all that has happened. No dwarf can force me to exile my own kin when there are so few sons of Durin left in this world.»

It seemed Balin had finally awoken. He tilted his head and pursed his lips like he did when he thought of the problems that needed solving. Eventually Balin smiled satisfied. «I know this, lad. I never thought you would.»

Thorin growled, and his eyes grew narrow. «Can you never give advice so to make my choice easier? You know me better than I know myself. Had you simply told me, I would have been spared many sleepless nights.»

«Then you would not have grown to know yourself as you do today. I cannot tell you what you want to feel, you must find out for yourself.» Balin smirked and stood with his hands in his sides. «You have always been too hasty for council.»

Kíli stood observing the conversation, finding strange joy in the way Balin treated Thorin like a spoiled child, much like Thorin treated Kíli. It gave him a feeling that they might not be so unlike after all. Kíli had the colors of his uncle, and was more alike him in features, so he had always hoped he would resemble him also in spirit and strength, though Fíli always was the strong and smart one. Now finding that Kíli had a bit of Thorin’s hastiness brought him great amounts of joy.

«I do not agree,» Thorin grunted and waved his hand discarding. «But that is beyond the point. I have come for my decision, finally. You know the laws of our people better than anyone?» Thorin partly asked and partly stated, still with a ring of impatience in his voice.

«That may be. Though I did advice your grandfather in warfare and strategy, I have always had a big respect for our laws and ways, as should we all.» Balin looked at Thorin with an examining gaze, like he knew that the King was leading up to something.

«Yes, I know. But there is one thing I was hoping you'd help me with. You see, I believe I‘ve heard somewhere that the laws of our people may be changed by a King if the change is in the interest of our people. Is this correct, Balin?» Thorin spoke against his folded hands. It was clear he was nervous.

Kíli’s mouth fell open as he considered this. At once his thoughts began to wander. What law would Thorin change if this was the case? He dared not trust the hope, yet his heart beat harder as he considered the possibility.

Balin looked surprised, but then his expression softened. «This… may be. It’s been a long time, but I remember to have read something of the sort in The Book of laws.»

«Do you have it?» Thorin straightened in the chair and looked at his advisor with hopeful eyes.

«It is in the locked chamber behind The Great Hall of Council, along with all the other books of our history and laws.» Balin was out the door before Thorin got the chance to urge him. He returned a moment later with a big and dusty book. It was worn and the leather wrappings had almost dissolved so the pages would scatter was it not handled properly. He dropped it on the table with a heavy thud, and dust flew out of it. Kíli moved closer to get a look at the book he had never seen, only heard tales of. It was said to be bound in the skin of the first dwarves to walk Middle Earth, that their hair was woven to make the pages and their blood was the ink.

Kíli had always laughed at the old sayings, but seeing this old, tattered book, he might start to believe them a little more. The leather was rugged and unlike any he had ever beheld, but that might as well be from age as any other reason. Yet he kept his fingers off. He wouldn't easily get himself to touch it with those ideas in mind.

«Luck I am one of five with the key to that chamber.» Balin laughed and waved a rusty key in the air. It was fastened around his neck with a leather string. He handled the book as it was nothing but an old journal, caressing the bindings easily. A chill ran down Kíli’s back.

«Luck I appointed you Master of Script when we retook the mountain, you mean,» Thorin snorted and rose to stand beside Balin as he proceeded to open the book.

«Yes, yes,» Balin waved him off, and began loosening the leather wrappings holding the pages together. Kíli took another step towards them, peeking over Thorin to see them open the old pages, though still keeping a safe distance from the ill bearing book.

«What exactly are you looking for?» Thorin inquired and looked at Balin with questioning eyes.

Balin didn’t answer. Dust scattered as he turned the crisp and dry pages. He took care to turn them carefully not to damage any, and his eyes kept skimming the pages he opened for any clues to what he was looking for. As he expected, it was not before the very last page in the great book that it was written, as an epilogue.

«This book is a collection of all the laws of the children of Mahal. Found and recited by Skírfir, Master of Script under the rule of Durin V, the King Under the Mountain in the year of TA 1852. This book is to be given through the generation, to each King Under the Mountain, for it belongs to the children of Mahal. These are the laws of the Khazâd, founded by the forefathers of the First Age, for the safekeeping of our people. Any breaking of the laws means great offense to Mahal and all of his people, and must be punished.»

Thorin and Balin stood completely still while Balin read aloud what was written in the old script. Kíli kept a sharp eye on Thorin to see his reaction, still he was in wonder, for he had never read nor heard such old words from a time long past gone.

«How does this help us?» Thorin growled, after Balin was finished. «I know all of this.» He threw up his arms and turned away from the table.

«There is more here, in the small script at the bottom. ‘A King who is pure at heart and in blood, and sits on the throne under the mountain, may alter our written law, under the witness of his advisors, be it in the favor of all children of Mahal’.» Balin finished, his eyes big of amazement and cheer. Kíli stood like frozen, his mind barely comprehending the words and their meaning.
Thorin spun around and stared at the book. «So… That means it can be done? I can change the laws!» Thorin looked at Balin, his eyes sparkling with new hope.

«It seems like it. All you must do is convince the council members it is in the favor of all dwarves. It might prove difficult, do I know them right. After all, we aren't the easiest people to convince out of our stubborn ways.» Balin seemed skeptical, as he scratched his beard and looked down at the book again.

«But it is possible.» Thorin muttered, his gaze hollow as if he was somewhere else. He thought hard, for he would have to know what exactly needed to be changed, what laws to alter. After a moment he looked at Balin again, his grin wide. «Balin, first thing in the morning you call for a meeting in The Hall of Council. I want everyone to be there, for I need everyone’s favor in this.»

«What do you intend to do?» Balin asked, his face grinning like he knew the answer already.

«I intend to marry away my nephew to an elf.» Thorin looked at Kíli and winked.

Kíli felt his heart beat hard in his chest, as he could hardly breathe. It was possibly the last words he had ever thought his uncle would utter, and now he did, changing everything Kíli thought he knew about him. It surprised Kíli, yet it was so obvious. Thorin was his father.

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The Choice of the King

Thorin lay awake. Sleep eluded him, as it had done for the last week. In the week since Tauriel came to them and he had learned of his nephew’s betrayal and that there had to be consequences, had he been unable to sleep. In the three long days during Tauriel’s labor and in the aftermath, his mind has been attempted to get changed by his sister, Tauriel herself, and both of his nephews. Many of their words were etched in his thoughts like carven runes in cold stone. All these were the reasons for his sleepless nights.

Thorin had considered it all a thousand times over and over in his head. He knew every angle, every option, every solution, yet he could not make a decision. He thought of his nephew, and his daughter, and her undeniable claim to the throne. He thought of his sister, and how much they had both lost in their long lives. So many deaths and so many disappointments. He did not think she would forgive him another.

Everything was too complicated. How could he possibly make a decision?

Thorin rolled over on his back and exhaled heavily. He threw away the pelts covering him, and sat up in the bed with his legs over the edge. The hour would be closer to midnight than dawn, and yet he could not sleep, for the energy surged in him; from his stressed mind, throughout his body and limbs. His fingers tickled with restlessness as he took the pants lying on the chest next to his bed and a pair of boots, and got dressed with impatient movements. He did not bother with a shirt, as he was burning hot from all his thoughts. Walking out of his chambers with angry steps, he muttered to himself of all the annoyances that kept him awake.

«Would Mahal clear the world of the nuisance that is family matters,» he growled under his breath, and walked down the hall past the chambers of his family, eventually coming to the dining room. He continued through and once in The Hall of the Kings he took left and went through the archway next to the one he had just come out of.

He walked through the dark corridors for a time and entered eventually the training room of the royal family. It was a big hall, as other training areas, though more richly equipped and with tapestries of kings in battles all around the room. The biggest one was of Durin VI, as he battled the Balrog and was defeated. It was not a fond time in the history of the dwarves, but it was important, and was appreciated for its significance. Thorin always spend some moments beholding it and remembering that even the mightiest king may fall at the hands of his foes. He bowed his head in the memory of his ancestor, and turned away.

The room was grand, with a big arena in the middle, carved down from a plateau that went along the walls all around the room. On the far left side was an area with shelves and racks with weapons of various kinds.

Thorin walked over to the rack with the battle-axes. They were beautiful to behold, richly engraved and bejeweled, and he lifted the greatest of them. These were the axes of his father and grand-father, which had been lost in the desolation, and then found again when he retook the mountain. He remembered them from his childhood, how heavy they had been and hard to wield for a young dwarf, though he watched his father move them swiftly and easily.

Carefully and slowly he swung it around, feeling the force and weight of the deadly weapon. Axes had never been his natural choice in battle, but these held such importance, and just holding it brought him closer to the good memories of his father. He kept moving, with both hands on the handle, wielding it with respect and admiration. He sighed and straightened himself, holding the weapon out in front of him. He let his hand glide over the metal, which looked untouched by the two hundred years in the dragon’s captivity. It was still sharp and deadly, and Thorin racked it carefully. It was not his weapon.

Thorin walked over to the swords, and lifted his own sword which stood on the rack beside the other dwarven-made swords. «Orcrist,» He said with a smile. His smile died and his brows creased as he thought about its origin; forged by the elves in the first age of middle earth. Was it then so bad to accept Tauriel into his home and family? After all, he had done it before. The sword had become a part of him, was it then so wrong to let his nephew marry the elf?

He swung the sword and turned around with a powerful attack. What he had not anticipated was his nephew standing behind him. Thorin exclaimed and the sword barely missed his nephew’s neck, as Kíli fell backwards of the surprise.

«Kíli!» Thorin roared and moved to help his nephew off the ground. «What are you doing here?» He demanded when Kíli stood before him again, out of breath and wide-eyed of the shock.

«I… I wanted to see you.» He was perplexed and instinctively rubbed his hand over his neck. His face bore a mixture of surprise and fright, and he laughed nervously.

«You should know not to sneak up on someone who’s wielding a weapon, lad,» Thorin laid a hand on his shoulder, shook his head in exasperation and laughed. «Had you been an inch closer, you’d lost your head.»

«Yes. I’m sorry, uncle. But I thought it to be the only time you’d see me.» Kíli’s eyes grew sad suddenly, and his gaze wavered from Thorin’s. He did not know how to begin speaking of what he wanted to say.

«What do you mean?» Thorin mumbled and turned away from his nephew to place his sword on it’s rack. In truth Thorin knew perfectly well what his nephew meant, for Thorin had avoided speaking to him for a week.

«We have barely spoken since the birth of my daughter.» His eyes were hard as he fought not to show his uncle the pain he felt by his negligence.

«I didn't realize.» Thorin said nonchalantly, then suddenly remembered his naked chest. He cleared his throat for the awkwardness of the situation.

«I have been thinking since Tauriel came here, since you stopped talking to me. I realize I have failed you with all that I did, and then I remembered that I never truly apologized for my actions.» Kíli stood with his head and shoulders hanging, yet his eyes held Thorin’s.

«Kíli, I…» Thorin began.

«No, uncle, I need to say this. I truly apologize for all the ways I’ve wronged you, though I cannot go on like this. I will not stay here if that means never having you speak to me again, and if that is the case I would rather go away to live with Tauriel and our child somewhere else in the world. I will not divide our family more than I’ve already done, and leaving so that the rest of you may live in peace seems the only right thing to do.» Kíli exhaled through his nose after his speech. His hands were in fists and his lips were pressed together determinedly.

«Let’s talk about this before you do anything you’ll regret.» Thorin insisted. He was not ready for this conversation, yet he knew it was time.

«What is there to talk about?» Kíli raised his head and looked at Thorin with a desperate expression, his voice demanding and full of sorrow. «Your silence during the last week is all the indication I need that you do not want me to stay. I wish you would just tell me now, so that I can spare you any more trouble, and prepare my family for departure.»

«It is not that easy, Kíli. I cannot…,» Thorin stammered, trying to find the right way to explain his trouble. Kíli cut him off with a sneer.

«Do you know what isn’t easy? It isn't easy walking around this kingdom we both fought for, having our people talk behind my back because you do not acknowledge me, and having the woman I love feel unwanted and homeless in the one place I want to build us a home.» Kíli sneered angrily, his eyes filled with sadness and desperation. His hands were in fists and for the first time in his life he wished to punch his uncle. «I do not know what to do, because you won’t speak with me, and I am so angry, I… I do not know what to do with myself. Therefore I would rather have you exile me, if that would make things easier for you.»

«You are not going anywhere!» Thorin boomed, hitting the weapon rack with his fist so the sound echoed throughout the hall. He then exhaled and spoke through his teeth: «Damn it, lad, of course you’re not being exiled.»

Kíli stood as frozen, his expression hard and suspicious. «What?»

Thorin exhaled and scratched his beard tiredly. His eyes turned to Kíli, as the nephew eyed his uncle with wondering eyes. «Let us sit down, Kíli. We need to talk.» Thorin gestured to the table in the corner beside the archer targets. Some barrels of mead stood beside the table for pauses during training. Thorin grabbed two flagons of the few that stood on the table, and filled them to the rim.

Kíli stood a few moments with wrinkled brows, looking like he considered his options, before he decided to sit down. He folded his hands on the table, and kept his gaze at Thorin.

Thorin took a mouthful of mead, then passed the other flagon to Kíli. He decided they needed the comfort of the drink if they were to make it through the conversation ahed. Kíli had a hint of surprise in his eyes as he accepted the flagon, but he nodded thankfully and drank greedily.

«How did you know I was here?» Thorin spoke with a soft expression on his face.

«I have barely slept the last week. I heard your footsteps pass my door, and I decided this was the only time you would actually speak to me directly, with nothing and no one to excuse you.» Kíli spoke carefully, though his words were clearly full of spite. His eyes were softer as well.

«How did you know it was me?» Thorin asked quietly. He lowered his eyes, for he felt the guilt and he knew he deserved it. He had actively avoided Kíli after the events surrounding Kíliel’s birth.

«Ever since I was little I have been able to recognize your footsteps. When Fíli and I lived in the Blue Mountain as children, I would lie awake wishing for you to come home from your travels, and whenever you did return I would hear your stomps in the morning in the next chamber, and I would run to you.» Kíli smiled of the warm memories. Then his smile grew cold. «I never tell Fíli this for he remembers our real father, but to me you were our only father. You were always there for us, for me…,» Kíli lowered his eyes, and pressed his lips together.

Thorin watched Kíli as he spoke, and his breath came shallowly. Without thinking he reached across the table and put one of his big palms on Kíli’s folded hands. Kíli looked up at him, his eyebrows curled upwards, and his eyes pleading with sadness.

«I will always be your father, Kíli,» Thorin murmured as he lowered his eyes, his heart unable to bear the expression on his nephew’s face.

Kíli moved one of his hands from under his uncle’s to lay it on top of them. Their eyes met again, and Kíli smiled faintly, though his eyes still had a look of sadness about them. There would be a long way to go to heal the father-son relationship between them after all that had happened.

After a moment of silence Kíli moved his hands away from Thorin’s and into his own lap. His expression turned sombre. «I need to know what you want with me. Am I to stay or am I to leave? It’s got to be one way or another. And if I stay, so does Tauriel.»

«Kíli, you have to understand that I…» Thorin’s voice failed him. His hand was a hard fist beside his flagon as his stormy blue eyes held Kíli’s. «I love you; ever since I held you in my arms for the first time have I loved you. I promised your father to watch over you like my own, and that I have tried to do, even when it became too hard for me to do what is expected of me. Because, Kíli, there is nothing more important in my life than you and your brother.»

«Is that why you haven’t said anything?» Kíli felt his heart fall in sadness. «You know it is right to banish me, but you won’t do it because you love me? Uncle, I never thought…» His voice trailed off, and he exhaled heavily, lowering his eyes. The guilt laid heavy in his stomach as he swallowed. His thoughts of his uncle had all been accusing, when Thorin had done nothing but think of him and his brother.

«No.» Thorin said assuringly, though too quickly. He thought about it, and exhaled heavily. «I mean, yes and no. The reason I cannot let you leave is that I love you, and the reason I cannot allow you to stay is that I am king, and must uphold our laws without questioning them. And yet I cannot make that decision, for I wouldn't bear to lose you. Therefore I postponed, avoided you and told myself it was fine as long as we didn't speak.»

«Then you are selfish to make me stay.» Kíli scoffed and looked away. «You inflict so much pain simply for your own failure to act out what is expected of you. Had you told me to leave right away we could both have been spared the agony of the wait.» Kíli was angry now, for Thorin’s reason was not what he had expected.

«Yes, I am selfish.» Thorin admitted sourly, clenching his jaws. «But I have already lost so much of my family, and the last thing I want to do is to split up the little that remains.»
By those words Kíli returned his gaze to his uncle, who seemed small as he sat before him. He thought about it, and took a deep breath. Nothing in the world seemed easy at this moment. Why could it just never be easy?

«Is there no other way then?» Kíli looked at his uncle pleadingly. «What are the options?»

«I have gone through it all in my head the last week. There are only two; either I betray my vow as king and break our ancient laws, or I exile you.» Thorin put his hand over his face, and exhaled defeatedly.

«No, there must be another way,» Kíli straightened his back suddenly, folded his hands in front of his face and leaned his elbows on the table. He had an alert expression as he went through the options. There must have been something they have overlooked, some way around the laws which did not involve giving up their honor as dwarves. He could think of nothing.

Kíli exhaled and sank back down after a moment of silence between them. He rubbed his face, and shook his head slightly. «If only there was a way to change the laws…»

He met his uncle’s gaze with a down-hearted expression. Thorin on the other hand seemed suddenly to have awoken of a sleep-like trance. He looked at Kíli with a look of surprise and unexpected hope.

«What is it?» Kíli said, alert of his uncle’s sudden change of mood.

«You are right, we cannot live like this, never speaking to each other. It is time for me to make a decision, as the King. I cannot avoid this anymore; it is too important to me.» Thorin cleared his throat and rose from his seat. He walked around the table with decisive steps.

«What will you do?» Kíli was surprised, taken aback by Thorin’s sudden movement, and rose awkwardly to follow his uncle out of the hall. «Thorin, what is your choice?»

«Follow me, lad, there is someone we must speak with.» Thorin sounded almost excited as he rushed away from the training hall with his nephew rushing to follow.

They walked as quickly as dwarves could, through the Hall of the Kings, out past the royal quarters, walking in the dark corridors of the night, past chambers of their people, through the forges, and further into the mountain. They passed several guards, none willing to question the nightly stroll of the bare-chested King and his nephew.

Kíli’s suspicion grew as they walked further and further, until at last they came to the quarters of the generals and advisors, in the far south part of their realm, a floor underneath the arrival hall and the captains chamber where they had met Legolas a week before. They had walked for nearly an hour and Kíli wondered not little who they had come here to see.

Thorin walked left into another corridor and they entered The Great Hall of Council. The room was a perfect circle, with a matching, great table hewn out of the floor stone, with fifteen chairs surrounding it, one for each of the council-members. On the south end stood a greater chair than the other, the one reserved for the King. Kíli had not often seen this room, though his brother had spent much time here the last year, as he learned more and more of his responsibility as the future king. There had been much to arrange, still two years after the re-taking of Erebor. Two hundred years in the possession of a dragon had damaged the kingdom and much rebuilding remained, both within the kingdom and in the spirits of its people.

After another few dark corridors Thorin stopped outside a copper laid wooden door and knocked heavily three times. «Balin?» He roared and knocked again. «Open the door, we must speak with you!»

After a moment the lock clicked and the door opened to a surprised and half-asleep Balin with his eyes squinting and his beard tousled. He wore a dark, blue tunic for sleeping. Clearly they had awoken him from a deep sleep. «My King? What is going on? Are we under attack? Where is the dragon?»

«The dragon is dead, Balin, do you not remember? But we need your advice.» Thorin urged impatiently and pushed past his advisor into the chamber. He moved to light a candle and sat down in Balin’s chair by the table in the room.

«Come on in, my Lord,» Balin mumbled quite flurried, and closed the door behind Kíli as he too entered the room. Kíli still had no idea what Thorin was doing or why they had interrupted Balin in his private chamber. He was alert by his uncle’s strange actions. Though nothing in his kingdom was off limit for the king, it was highly unusual to invade sleeping chambers during the night.

«Balin,» Thorin began, his hands folded in front of his face as he sat leaning back in the chair, considering something only he knew. «I have been struggling with my decision concerning Kíli.»

Balin waited patiently, or maybe he was too tired to urge, while Thorin paused to think again.

«I have decided I cannot exile my nephew. You of all dwarves know how much I have lost in this life, and he is part of the little family I have left after all that has happened. No dwarf can force me to exile my own kin when there are so few sons of Durin left in this world.»

It seemed Balin had finally awoken. He tilted his head and pursed his lips like he did when he thought of the problems that needed solving. Eventually Balin smiled satisfied. «I know this, lad. I never thought you would.»

Thorin growled, and his eyes grew narrow. «Can you never give advice so to make my choice easier? You know me better than I know myself. Had you simply told me, I would have been spared many sleepless nights.»

«Then you would not have grown to know yourself as you do today. I cannot tell you what you want to feel, you must find out for yourself.» Balin smirked and stood with his hands in his sides. «You have always been too hasty for council.»

Kíli stood observing the conversation, finding strange joy in the way Balin treated Thorin like a spoiled child, much like Thorin treated Kíli. It gave him a feeling that they might not be so unlike after all. Kíli had the colors of his uncle, and was more alike him in features, so he had always hoped he would resemble him also in spirit and strength, though Fíli always was the strong and smart one. Now finding that Kíli had a bit of Thorin’s hastiness brought him great amounts of joy.

«I do not agree,» Thorin grunted and waved his hand discarding. «But that is beyond the point. I have come for my decision, finally. You know the laws of our people better than anyone?» Thorin partly asked and partly stated, still with a ring of impatience in his voice.

«That may be. Though I did advice your grandfather in warfare and strategy, I have always had a big respect for our laws and ways, as should we all.» Balin looked at Thorin with an examining gaze, like he knew that the King was leading up to something.

«Yes, I know. But there is one thing I was hoping you'd help me with. You see, I believe I‘ve heard somewhere that the laws of our people may be changed by a King if the change is in the interest of our people. Is this correct, Balin?» Thorin spoke against his folded hands. It was clear he was nervous.

Kíli’s mouth fell open as he considered this. At once his thoughts began to wander. What law would Thorin change if this was the case? He dared not trust the hope, yet his heart beat harder as he considered the possibility.

Balin looked surprised, but then his expression softened. «This… may be. It’s been a long time, but I remember to have read something of the sort in The Book of laws.»

«Do you have it?» Thorin straightened in the chair and looked at his advisor with hopeful eyes.

«It is in the locked chamber behind The Great Hall of Council, along with all the other books of our history and laws.» Balin was out the door before Thorin got the chance to urge him. He returned a moment later with a big and dusty book. It was worn and the leather wrappings had almost dissolved so the pages would scatter was it not handled properly. He dropped it on the table with a heavy thud, and dust flew out of it. Kíli moved closer to get a look at the book he had never seen, only heard tales of. It was said to be bound in the skin of the first dwarves to walk Middle Earth, that their hair was woven to make the pages and their blood was the ink.

Kíli had always laughed at the old sayings, but seeing this old, tattered book, he might start to believe them a little more. The leather was rugged and unlike any he had ever beheld, but that might as well be from age as any other reason. Yet he kept his fingers off. He wouldn't easily get himself to touch it with those ideas in mind.

«Luck I am one of five with the key to that chamber.» Balin laughed and waved a rusty key in the air. It was fastened around his neck with a leather string. He handled the book as it was nothing but an old journal, caressing the bindings easily. A chill ran down Kíli’s back.

«Luck I appointed you Master of Script when we retook the mountain, you mean,» Thorin snorted and rose to stand beside Balin as he proceeded to open the book.

«Yes, yes,» Balin waved him off, and began loosening the leather wrappings holding the pages together. Kíli took another step towards them, peeking over Thorin to see them open the old pages, though still keeping a safe distance from the ill bearing book.

«What exactly are you looking for?» Thorin inquired and looked at Balin with questioning eyes.

Balin didn’t answer. Dust scattered as he turned the crisp and dry pages. He took care to turn them carefully not to damage any, and his eyes kept skimming the pages he opened for any clues to what he was looking for. As he expected, it was not before the very last page in the great book that it was written, as an epilogue.

«This book is a collection of all the laws of the children of Mahal. Found and recited by Skírfir, Master of Script under the rule of Durin V, the King Under the Mountain in the year of TA 1852. This book is to be given through the generation, to each King Under the Mountain, for it belongs to the children of Mahal. These are the laws of the Khazâd, founded by the forefathers of the First Age, for the safekeeping of our people. Any breaking of the laws means great offense to Mahal and all of his people, and must be punished.»

Thorin and Balin stood completely still while Balin read aloud what was written in the old script. Kíli kept a sharp eye on Thorin to see his reaction, still he was in wonder, for he had never read nor heard such old words from a time long past gone.

«How does this help us?» Thorin growled, after Balin was finished. «I know all of this.» He threw up his arms and turned away from the table.

«There is more here, in the small script at the bottom. ‘A King who is pure at heart and in blood, and sits on the throne under the mountain, may alter our written law, under the witness of his advisors, be it in the favor of all children of Mahal’.» Balin finished, his eyes big of amazement and cheer. Kíli stood like frozen, his mind barely comprehending the words and their meaning.
Thorin spun around and stared at the book. «So… That means it can be done? I can change the laws!» Thorin looked at Balin, his eyes sparkling with new hope.

«It seems like it. All you must do is convince the council members it is in the favor of all dwarves. It might prove difficult, do I know them right. After all, we aren't the easiest people to convince out of our stubborn ways.» Balin seemed skeptical, as he scratched his beard and looked down at the book again.

«But it is possible.» Thorin muttered, his gaze hollow as if he was somewhere else. He thought hard, for he would have to know what exactly needed to be changed, what laws to alter. After a moment he looked at Balin again, his grin wide. «Balin, first thing in the morning you call for a meeting in The Hall of Council. I want everyone to be there, for I need everyone’s favor in this.»

«What do you intend to do?» Balin asked, his face grinning like he knew the answer already.

«I intend to marry away my nephew to an elf.» Thorin looked at Kíli and winked.

Kíli felt his heart beat hard in his chest, as he could hardly breathe. It was possibly the last words he had ever thought his uncle would utter, and now he did, changing everything Kíli thought he knew about him. It surprised Kíli, yet it was so obvious. Thorin was his father.