So Comes Snow After Fire

16.ii

Thorin was finishing a second cup of tea and pulling on his boots when the knock sounded at his door, and he knew it must be Kíli. No-one else would have had reason speak privately to him at this hour, right as he was leaving to join his personal council.

"Enter," he had called as he fastened a last buckle, and when he looked up, his younger nephew stood before him.

Kíli still wore yesterday's clothes, which were now streaked by dust and mud. His face was grubby, too, and not just with dirt; he had a gash along his right cheek, and it had bled.

"Before you ask, no, I haven't been in a fight," Kíli volunteered wearily, having apparently read Thorin's concerned expression. "I had a little trouble in the northeast mines."

"What—" Thorin didn't finish the question. So long as the lad wasn't brawling with visiting councilmen, his purposes were his own. Kíli would surely have enough else to explain as it was.

Kíli went on, "I just came to tell you: I know what I have to do." His eyes held a look of defeat and resignation that Thorin had only seen there once before, when he had refused to allow Kíli to follow the company from Laketown. Then, Thorin had known that Kíli's best interest outweighed his disappointment. But now there was no similar comfort to be found: even without his sister's insight, Thorin knew that letting go of Tauriel would be a great blow to Kíli.

"I'm going to—" Kíli's voice faltered, and he swallowed before beginning again. "I'm going to end my courtship of Tauriel."

"Kíli, I am sorry."

His nephew only stared back, his tight jaw and wet eyes betraying the emotion that he fought to hold in check.

"You've made the right choice," Thorin continued, knowing the words were cold comfort. "A marriage to her would cost us the last vote that we need."

Kíli nodded, and disheveled hair fell into his face, hiding his eyes.

"Fíli tells me he must buy a vote by marrying the Blacklock envoy's daughter," he said somewhat unsteadily.

"Aye, that is Lord Andvari's condition for his support."

"Understood." Kíli paused, clearly working towards some other statement, and Thorin waited.

His nephew said at last, "The Council of Seven convenes again tomorrow; is that right?"

"Aye, after midday."

"I'll declare my choice then. If I'm to prove I've any sense left, I must show the decision is my own."

"I agree." Thorin was moved by the young dwarf's resolution to declare a heartbreakingly personal matter in such a public way; the action would require no small degree of courage.

Kíli lifted his chin, meeting Thorin's gaze once more from beneath the fall of his dark bangs. His eyes were again dry. "May I beg one last favor?" he asked softly. "May I be excused again tonight to bid her goodbye?"

"You may." There was little else that required Kili's immediate attention, so long as he was decided on this one course of action.

"Thank you." Kíli bowed. After he had straightened, he brushed awkwardly at the dirt on his shirt and trousers. "I'll, uh, go change before I join the council," he added self-consciously.

"Clean yourself up and eat some breakfast," Thorin ordered, feeling for a moment as if he were once more back in Ered Luin overseeing the education of a young, unruly dwarfling. Then, the worst either he or his nephews ever faced was a scolding from Dís if manners weren't minded or lessons done. "The meeting can get along without you for a bit."

"Right," Kíli returned with a grateful nod.

No, Thorin reflected once Kíli was gone, of course Kíli truly was no longer the young lad who had needed to be reminded of his tasks. This dwarf who had willingly offered his own happiness for his duty to kin and kingdom was fully grown in both responsibility and years. Though he had questioned Kíli's loyalty little over a year ago when Kíli had threatened to deny his own heritage and run away with Tauriel, Thorin saw now that he would be wrong to entertain any more doubts regarding Kíli's devotion to Erebor and his family.

Then, Kíli had been all anger and offended honor, impatient to dismiss any responsibility that was not convenient to him. Indeed, he truly had abandoned his home to follow Tauriel for the better part of a day before recognizing that such a desertion was unworthy of him. But now Kíli proved he understood that some duties could not be dismissed and that some obligations must be chosen over others, painful as that choice might be. Letting go of Tauriel was surely the most difficult sacrifice Kíli had ever been asked to make, yet he did not rage or complain as he once had when Thorin had once commanded Kíli to give her up. Thorin was proud of how thoughtful and mature his young nephew had become. He only regretted that the proof of Kíli's growth had to come at such a cost.