So Comes Snow After Fire

9.iii

Fíli paused, watching, in the entry to Dís's room, the filled tea kettle in one hand. His mother and brother sat on the comfortable old sofa, embroiled in a lively, good-natured argument about who was truly responsible for Thorin's concession regarding Tauriel.

"He never would have agreed to it if I hadn't made a reasoned and elegant case," Kíli was insisting. "You're not trying to say your brother would grant his approval to just any half-baked, barmy scheme of mine, do you?"

"I should certainly not like to say that," Dís returned emphatically, "any more than I should like to accuse the brightest of my younger sons of having such a deplorable memory that he would forget it was his uncle who once agreed to let him go fishing with a fowling net and a basket of wizard's candles."

Fíli grinned. He remembered that: with those fireworks, they had made a glorious mess of mist and flame, blown half the stream bed away, and not caught a single fish.

Kíli shrugged, undeterred. "Yes, well, every genius has to have a few false starts."

"Indeed," Dís chimed in eagerly, "And you'll have to admit that, while you're struggling to coax that genius into flame, it doesn't hurt to have someone else supply a little heat?"

"You admit I have genius!" Kíli crowed triumphantly.

"Only to flatter myself you inherited something from me besides your good looks."

"Mother! You're forgetting my unerring ability to pick the most ludicrous side of an argument."

"It's true," she said and caught him about the waist with one arm while tickling his stomach with the other. "You can't help but laugh at yourself, poor silly boy," she added as Kíli's inarticulate protest degenerated into muffled laughter.

"Help!" Kíli gasped breathlessly as Fíli passed him to set the kettle on the fire.

"Don't worry: I've got your back, brother!" Fíli declared, taking advantage of Kíli's doubled over position to attack his unprotected ribs. Kíli's attempts to complain were cut short by another helpless fit of laughter, though Fíli thought he caught the word "betrayed" as Kíli slid to the floor at Dís's feet.

Fíli and Dís let him be then, and after a few moments' gasping, Kíli struggled to sit up.

"That's not what I meant," he told Fíli deliberately, tugging his shirt back into place.

Fíli gave him an unrepentant grin. "Maybe you should be more specific next time."

Dís was chuckling softly to herself now. "I love having you both home," she said, and Fíli heard the deep fondness in her voice and was glad. He tucked his arm around her waist as she smoothed Kíli's hair back and resettled its dislodged clasp.

Even though they were reunited here in Erebor, it was an unusual occurrence to be together, all three of them, now that Kíli oversaw the construction on Ravenhill. The old fort was far enough away that he stayed there most nights with the rest of the crew. Kíli was home tonight only to gather fresh clothing and supplies in preparation for an extended scouting expedition with Tauriel the next morning. If he was to captain the patrols, he would need to be personally familiar with the land they covered.

"You boys are something of legends in your own time," Dís remarked, sounding both proud and amused. "Even those who gainsaid your uncle's quest consider you all heroes now. Is it strange?"

Fíli nodded against her shoulder. "Everybody treats me like I'm a different person now."

"You are," Dís said gently.

"I know. I feel it and I—" He shrugged. "I don't. I know I can't go back, but sometimes I want to. This is all so much bigger than I imagined it would be: Erebor, being Thorin's heir..."

"My first, darling boy," Dís said tenderly, nudging her head against his. "You have done, and you will do, well."

The kettle began to hiss, and Fíli stood to fetch it and pour the boiling water into the teapot Dís had already prepared. When the tea was done, Kíli rose, too, to get a cup for himself and one for their mother.

As they all were sipping spiced peppermint, Kíli remarked significantly to his brother, "Well, the good news is that you're not become such a grand figure yet that you completely overawe the girls. You'll never guess who I found with him in the very crowded taproom tonight, Mum," he added, evidently quite pleased with his news.

"I suppose it was Sif," Dís returned readily.

Kíli's smug expression gave way to one of surprise. "What? How did you—"

When Dís answered, she spoke to Fíli. "While you were gone, Sif called a few times hoping for news of you. Oh, she didn't ask outright, of course, but I knew what she wanted."

Fíli sipped tea so he wouldn't have to respond. He felt oddly grateful to know he'd been remembered, even worried over a little. As the younger of them, Kíli had always been the one who seemed to get the first "Be careful!" and "Are you all right?" from people. Fíli knew his mother and uncle cared as much for his own safety as for Kíli's, but he had had to learn they expressed their concern differently for each of them.

"And when do I meet your Tauriel?" Dís asked, turning her attention back to her younger son, rather to Fíli's relief. He didn't want to talk about whether it meant anything that he had somehow melted Sif's shyness and reserve. He wasn't sure what he thought, himself.

"Soon," Kíli answered, wearing that musing smile which was reserved for the mention of Tauriel's name. "I want to ask her to celebrate the new year with us this autumn."

"That will be but a year from when you met her, will it not?" their mother remarked, thoughtful.

Kíli nodded. "She saved my life on Durin's Day."

"Did she." Fíli saw her expression go still, as if her face had closed on some private, deep emotion. He didn't have to ask where her prayers had been that night when the flames of Durin's forge were renewed, as they were on the eve of every year. Her gaze shifted back to her youngest before her. "If Mahal sent her then, she will always be welcome to my hearth," she said.

Kíli smiled his thanks, then asked, hopeful, "Would you host her when she comes? I want it to be a family visit, not an official one."

"I will." From her slow, thoughtful smile, Fíli guessed she was imagining the addition of an elf and a stranger to an intimate family scene such as this one. It was a peculiar prospect, certainly, but not one he found unwelcome. Fíli wanted to see more of that warm, unguarded side of Tauriel, the self that she had readily given to his brother, and which he had still only just glimpsed.

Kíli set aside his empty cup and stood. "I should go to bed," he said, apologetic. "I'm leaving early to meet Tauriel in Dale."

"Good night, my darling," Dís said, beckoning him to her for a last hug. "Behave yourself," she added as he kissed her.

"They're taking a chaperone, so he'll have to," Fíli said smugly, pleased to have repaid Kíli's earlier mention of Sif.

"Hey! Of course I will!" Kíli protested. "I wouldn't bring Darion with us if I didn't mean to!"

Dís smiled. "I know. Now go to bed."

"Yes, Mother," Kíli returned meekly. He left, giving a practiced yank to one of Fíli's braids as he passed behind his brother on the way out.