kíli (sonofdurin) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2015-02-23 22:31:00 |
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All his life, Kíli had been surrounded by his family. As one of Thorin’s beloved nephews, everyone in their halls knew his name. They knew his lineage, they’d watched him grow. Everywhere he went, there was another cousin around the corner. That was the blessing (and burden) of their line. He was lucky; he had always known that. But his life didn't come without difficulties of its own, and Kíli quietly struggled to carry the burden he and Fíli were meant to. No matter how much Thorin tried to protect them, he couldn’t shield them from everything. Kíli knew that one day, Thorin would be gone, and the responsibility that Thorin had too often carried alone on his shoulders would fall to Fíli. He knew that, no matter how heavy the weight was on his and his brother’s shoulders, it was nothing compared to what Thorin felt. He knew, early on, that he wouldn’t let Fíli do it alone. He had more freedom than Fíli ever would, but that didn’t mean he was ignorant of why there were so often dozens of eyes following them, or why it meant so much to retake Erebor. He knew - at least in theory - what that would mean for him and his brother. It meant a future. It meant the home that represented their bloodline and their ancestors. It was a kingdom that would be theirs to care for and nourish and protect. He might have been young, but that didn’t mean he didn’t understand. It weighed on him, too. Joining Thorin’s quest had been as much about his uncle as it had been about proving himself, if Kíli were truly honest. Not being allowed to go would have been devastating, and as Kíli stared out at the unfamiliar landscape in front of him, he recalled questioning whether anyone would follow him if anything should happen to Thorin or Fíli while he remained behind. How could he command any armies if he had never been on such a grand adventure? If he had never proven himself in battle, or as a leader at all? What did he know about war? About loss, about sacrifice, about making difficult decisions, about doing what was best for his people? Thorin, Dís, and most likely Dwalin and Balin as well, had shielded him from that, but Kíli knew that they couldn’t protect him forever, and that one day he would have to see it for himself, so that he would know how to be the dwarf he was supposed to be one day. The dwarf who stood looking out over Ferelden was not the same one who’d left his mother behind all those months ago. Though little time had passed since he’d left the only home he’d ever known, he’d grown decades in the span of those months. He’d put his life on the line repeatedly to help the rest of the company, with little regard to his own safety. He’d done the same for strangers, simply because they were in need. He’d fallen in love, across cultural boundaries and despite centuries of bad blood. He’d faced a war head-on, knowing how steep the odds were, knowing what they had to lose (and gain), knowing he might not survive. All of that Kíli had seen with his brother by his side. And now he was facing a world he didn’t recognise without any of his family, for the second time in two months. The hours after his arrival in New York, before he’d realised Tauriel was there too, had been filled with confusion and a different sort of loss than the one he felt now. Once he’d found Tauriel, he knew that if no one else came, she would be enough of a family for him to be happy. And then the others began trickling in, and Kíli again found himself surrounded by people he loved desperately, and people who loved him in return. In Shale’s world (and this, he knew in his heart, was Shale’s world, no matter what his uncle said), he felt untethered. An ache had settled into his chest not long after he’d arrived and realised that the ones he wanted (needed, for so long) by his side weren’t there, and that ache had only grown stronger the longer they remained in this strange place. He felt lost without the scrutinising gaze of his uncle and the cautious one of his brother. He felt lost now that he wasn’t standing underneath his uncle’s great shadow, and was finally on his own. It was everything he’d always dreamt of -- the chance to show them that he wasn’t a child anymore and that he could take care of himself, a chance to be taken seriously -- but they wouldn’t even be there to see it. A small voice in the back of his head still wondered if they were right to be worried. Another worried about how they were faring without him there to do something reckless, but that was quickly silenced when he remembered how much longer Thorin had been a warrior. Each of them had experience he did not; they would know what to do. What did he know about anything? The complicated and opposing emotions made his head swim. He wanted to be able to fend for himself, but he doubted he had the knowledge or ability - wasn’t that why he always followed Fíli around, because he could count on Fíli to know what to do? On the other hand, hadn’t he done well on the quest for Erebor, even if he’d never be able to see the mountain returned to its former glory? His mother called him reckless, but that recklessness had helped, more than once. (It had also gotten him into trouble, he reminded himself.) And wasn’t it just a little liberating to be free, despite how guilty he felt for thinking that? Hadn’t it always been liberating to step out from the shadows and to feel sureness and strength in himself when he did what he knew was right? He shook his head and pried his gaze away from the sky above. Neither guilt nor self-doubt were going to help him here, or anywhere. More than anything, he needed to trust in himself and in his instincts. He could trust Shale. He could trust her companions. Of that much he was certain. If he had to be here, he was grateful to not be alone. The other question that remained was why? Why was he here and not his kin? Not Tauriel? Why wasn’t he with them? Had he done something wrong? He knew that it was a strength to be able to create friendships even in the most unlikely places, not a weakness, so he couldn’t fathom how that would be truly wrong, even if someone disagreed. His eyes darted to Shale, who no longer looked like the Shale he had befriended, but was still the same Shale underneath all of the stone. Maybe he was needed more here, for whatever reason. Maybe he needed to not be where his brother was, however much they always fought being separated. Maybe -- this thought took his breath away, because he could feel pieces of himself missing now that those he loved were so far away, and that was agony -- he needed to be on his own, for just a moment, so he could spread his wings and prove to himself that he was as worthy of praise as anyone else. Silently, he prayed: Mahal look after my uncle and my brother where I cannot, and all our friends. Keep Tauriel safe, because I would be lost without the other half of my soul. He couldn’t be sure his prayers would even be heard, but faith meant believing when you couldn’t prove it, and so he would pray every minute that he was separated from them, that they would all be safe and that they would find their way back to one another. In the meantime, his new companions deserved his full attention. He would not let them down, no matter how lost he felt. Hadn’t he always wanted to see far-off places, anyway? |