So Comes Snow After Fire

10.i Old Grudges Forgot

Kíli had never spent much effort on diplomacy before. Surely it was Fíli's responsibility as heir to know how to handle sensitive or potentially awkward political situations, but Kíli had always supposed that it would fall to him merely to follow the examples others had set. In the last few months, he'd been learning, of course, to navigate the social complexities created by his own decision to woo an elf, but even that had seemed a sort of exception due to personal circumstances. But Kíli was quickly coming to see that even being the younger prince held far more authority and responsibility than he had ever envisioned before.

Standing now in the Elvenking's chambers as Thranduil himself welcomed him and Tauriel, Kíli felt very distinctly out of his depth. A friendly meeting with their neighbors was far beyond anything Thorin, his uncle and king, had achieved since their return. With no precedent to follow, what was Kíli supposed to say and do?

The best place to begin, he supposed, was to remember his manners.

"Please accept my thanks and my service," Kíli said, sweeping the practiced bow that, thankfully, his mother had drilled into him till it was effortless. What was it that Tauriel had said was a proper elvish greeting? "Mae govannen," he added as he straightened, hoping he had remembered right.

Thranduil's look of approval—it was not quite a smile—seemed to indicate that he had.

"I see you are not entirely untutored in our ways," the Elvenking remarked with a quick glance at Tauriel that Kíli could not quite read. Was he pleased or amused?

"I am more ignorant than I should like," Kíli admitted, supposing honest humility was to his advantage here. "But I hope to mend that defect with Tauriel's help." He glanced at her and saw she was blushing.

"I trust you shall," Thranduil agreed, and Kíli was sure, just for a moment, that the elf king truly was amused. Then Thranduil's expression became serious once more. "I suppose you find my invitation unexpected," he said. "I know my relations with your kindred have not always been cordial."

"Tauriel tells me you wish for friendship with my kingdom," Kíli returned. He was glad that Thranduil did not expect him to pretend that their prior meetings had been anything other than strained.

"I confess that I think of my own interests, but then, is not an alliance to your advantage as well? None of us would stand here today were it not for those who fought beside us."

Kíli had a sudden vivid memory of the fight on Ravenhill and of Tauriel backstabbing an orc that had nearly kept him from his brother. Thanks to her, he had been able to turn to Fíli's aid, and even, perhaps, saved his life.

"Our people have not always been at enmity," Thranduil went on. "Surely you know of the great concord between your ancestors of Khazad-dûm and the elves of Eregion? There was even trade between Erebor and the Greenwood in your great-grandfather's day."

Kíli remembered the history lessons of his youth, though he had certainly not imagined then that elf-dwarf relations would ever have any particular relevance to him. And yet it had become clear that, if Tauriel was ever to be accepted by his own people, he would need to win friendship between her kingdom and his. As much as he felt that all that should matter was the courage and honor of Tauriel herself, he could see that their success as a pair depended on the fate of their respective kingdoms. The realization was truly daunting.

Kíli answered, "I would gladly see that friendship restored. Though it may be some time before Erebor is able to fulfill that hope. We have matters of our own to set in order." He supposed this was what diplomacy meant: telling things not quite as they were, but as they needed to be seen. The real reason for patience was the newness, not of Thorin's rule, but of any hope of reconciliation.

"I understand. And yet I believe that you have a personal interest in realizing a connection between our people," the king said.

"I do," Kíli acknowledged simply, at a loss for how to answer such a pointed remark. Of course Thranduil would know of his former captain's affection for the dwarf prince, and yet Kíli nonetheless felt somewhat uncomfortable to hear him speak of their affection so readily. Kíli knew, more or less, what else the Elvenking had once said about Tauriel's love.

Kíli glanced at her again: she seemed even more embarrassed than before, though he did not think she was actually worried. He supposed a retraction of Thranduil's previous judgment was perhaps the nearest to an apology they could expect from the proud and impassive elf king. He would try not to take offense.

Thranduil must have sensed Kíli's discomfort, for he went on almost warmly, "I would be pleased to acknowledge an alliance between the Prince of Erebor and one of my own people."

"Thank you," Kíli stammered, both surprised and relieved that the king had voluntarily offered his approval of their courtship. Despite his assurance to Tauriel, he was not quite sure he could have brought himself to ask for it. He still felt conflicted about this man who had managed, at some point, to injure all those Kíli cared for: his family, his comrades, even his beloved Tauriel.

Remembering himself somewhat, Kíli added, "I dearly hope to be granted such an honor." So long as nothing had been fully settled yet between him and Tauriel, Kíli could offer no stronger assurance, regardless of his own optimism.

"Your Majesty," Tauriel cut in then, sounding nearly as flustered as Kíli felt. "We have had a long day's journey. Perhaps I might show the Prince to his rooms so that he can refresh himself before dinner?"

Thranduil's mouth crooked up slightly. "Of course. Forgive me; you must wish to rest."

Tauriel bowed, and then, taking Kíli's arm, towed him from the room.