Prompt for the Feels for Fíli Art and Fic Mini Contest / #6 Autumn

Runner-up in the Feels for Fíli Art and Fic Mini Contest / #6 Autumn / Fic

This is un-beta'd.

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THROUGH TREES OF GOLD
Marigold Faucet

I
the greatest bread

for Sarah

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"You only had to look at it for a moment, and instantly you could think of dozens of things you'd rather eat. Your boots, for example. Mountains. Raw sheep. Your own foot."
—Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad

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Fíli is certain of two things in his life.

Firstly, that it is his job—nay his duty as Uncle Thorin says—to protect Kíli from the greater evils of the world. And secondly: that Dwalin's bread is truly the greatest evil in all of Middle Earth.

Fíli doesn't understand why Dwalin feels he needs to bake so much bread, especially during the autumn months. He heard Thorin and Balin talking about it once, about how it was because Dwalin missed his 'amad and that the Night of the Kill makes him miss her more. Fíli thinks he can understand that, he misses his Da a lot sometimes but he doesn't make people eat horrible bread because of it. He asks for a hug instead.

(A hug is better than bread.)

They've been lucky, Kíli more so than most, the last few years, but, as Fíli will grow to learn, luck does not hold fast to the Line of Durin. Kíli's never had Dwalin's bread before, but he's only started learning his letters and lacks self-preservation, which means Fíli has to work extra hard to look out for Kíli when Dwalin starts baking.

Thorin is supposed to pick them up from their tutoring session with Balin, but they find Dwalin waiting for them outside the door. Thorin is trapped at the forge, Dwalin explains, I'm to look after you. Kíli is ecstatic about it, but Fíli knows the look on Dwalin's face, the sad grumpy one he gets from time to time, means there's going to be bread and silently prays to Mahal that Dwalin won't be staying for dinner.

His prayers go unanswered.

Fíli plays with Kíli in their room, wooden soldiers scattered about the floor. Kíli had wanted to help Dwalin bake some bread, but Fíli keeps him from the kitchen with the promise of letting him play as Thorin in their game. He listens to Dwalin bang about the kitchen and hopes Thorin comes home soon, but Thorin doesn't and the longer time goes on the more worried and desperate Fíli starts to feel.

So Fíli does the only reasonable thing left to him, he takes Kíli and hides them both in Thorin's wardrobe.

It's dark in the wardrobe, but neither seems to mind. Fíli passes the time by retelling the histories Balin had been teaching him earlier that morning, and Fíli thinks Balin would be appalled to hear him butcher them so. Kíli is an attentive listener, when he isn't giggling at some of Dwalin's more creative curse words, asking questions that range from surprisingly insightful to wildly ridiculous. It's fun, Fíli finds, despite the dire fate that awaits them outside the wardrobe.

But then Kíli asks about the Night of the Kill and Fíli's throat closes up.

It is not that Kíli is ignorant of its meaning and significance, but he is still too young to make it through the entire festival without succumbing to sleep. Fíli is too and it never seemed important before, the only family for him to mourn no more familiar to him than a character from a fairy tale. Yet, ever since Jóli's passing, Fíli makes a special effort to stay awake as long as he can for the lighting of the mourning fires to signal the return of the hunting party (the night's kill held proudly aloft).

"Why are there fires?" Kíli asks, for he has never seen the fires. Always asleep, sparse meal in his belly, before Thorin leaves and never awake when he returns, the fires nothing more than embers when dawn arrives.

"To honour those that we have lost and those we still have," Fíli explains. It is the same reason for the hunt, the meat and hide given to those less fortunate than most; a show to Mahal that the living a cherished and deceased remembered.

It saddens him to think of his 'adad as only a memory, but he does not dwell on it. It's only a matter of time before Dwalin will search them out and sure enough the kitchen clatter halts abruptly, Fíli suddenly painfully aware of the heavy footsteps coming down the hall.

Fíli tightens his hold on Kíli, clamping his hand tightly over Kíli's mouth, as the door to Thorin's room swings open. He will fight body and beard to keep Kíli away from that bread. It's his job after all, to keep Kíli safe.

The door to the wardrobe opens, the light momentarily blinding Fíli as he stares up at the large form before them. For a panicked moment Fíli thinks it is Dwalin, but then his eyes adjust and Kíli squirms free, holding his arms up to a bewildered Thorin who stands staring down at them.

"Fíli?" Thorin blinks. "What are you and Kíli doing in my wardrobe?"

"We're hiding," Fíli whispers, casting a furtive glance towards the door.

"From what?" Thorin asks, following his gaze.

"Mister Dwalin!" cheers Kíli brightly, attempting to free his small arms from the overwhelming length of Thorin's coat sleeves.

"And why are you hiding from Mister Dwalin?" Thorin chuckles, pulling both Fíli and Kíli from the wardrobe and up into his arms.

"He's making bread, Uncle!" Fíli cries, lip trembling. He doesn't want to cry, biting his lip as his heart jumps from relief to fear in a few unsteady beats. He's truly afraid, a rather unfitting quality for an heir of Durin, but he still remembers the first time he had eaten Dwalin's bread. It felt as if he were trying to eat a rock, though it didn't taste as nice (he knows the difference well enough to be sure) and afterwards he had found his boots to a rather appetising prospect if that bread was still waiting for him at the table. It was most unpleasant and for a time afterwards, Fíli was positive Dwalin must hate him. He used to hide behind Dís' skirts whenever he would visit just in case he had anymore bread hidden behind his back.

(That was until Dwalin had thrust several toy soldiers into Fíli's quivering arms and all was forgiven between them.)

"Ah," Thorin nods, face caught between bemusement and serious concern. "I see."

"I'm supposed to keep Kíli safe from all the bad things," Fíli mutters, burying his face in Thorin's shoulder.

"You did the right thing Fíli," Thorin says, the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betraying his amusement. "I'm very proud of you."

Fíli buries his face further into Thorin's shoulder, face turning a light shade of red. "Promise we won't have to eat any?" he mumbles.

"I promise," Thorin smiles. "It is, after all, my job to keep both of you safe." he says, placing them both on his bed with a kiss on the forehead each. "Now, wait here."

Thorin comes back for them not ten minutes later, Dwalin muttering darkly behind him. Kíli practically bounces off the bed, throwing himself at Dwalin who deftly catches him before handing him off to Thorin. Fíli stares, drawing his knees up to his chest and ducking his head slightly so that he doesn't have to meet Dwalin's gaze. He didn't think Thorin would tell him.

Dwalin sits on the bed, the bed dipping beneath his weight. Fíli lets out an indignant squawk, the shift in the bed causing him to lose his balance and tumble into a graceless heap on Dwalin's lap. Fíli stares up at Dwalin, giving him a fierce glare (or as fierce as one can look while pouting), but Dwalin only grins back at him.

"You don't have to eat it if you don't want to," he says, poking Fíli in the belly. Fíli frowns, face scrunching up as he tries not to smile. He's supposed to be angry and betrayed, but he's too relieved to truly feel anything but happy.

Yet, though he's smiling, Dwalin still looks sad.

"Would you like a hug?" Fíli asks, sitting up. Dwalin startles, eyes wide with surprise, and Fíli can tell he's about to refuse. That cannot be allowed. "Too bad!" he beams, tackling Dwalin with all the effectiveness of a light breeze against the mountainside. It takes a moment, maybe two, but eventually Dwalin returns his hug with an exasperated huff and a lighter heart.

A hug is definitely better than bread.

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Cont.

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Khuzdul:

'adad / father

'amad / mother