ataraxionlogs | Where he dwelleth none can say [CLOSED]

Entry tags:

fili,
thranduil

Where he dwelleth none can say [CLOSED]

CHARACTERS: Thranduil and Fili
LOCATION: The O2 Gardens
WARNINGS: Grief, loss, feelings
SUMMARY: Thorin's gone and Thranduil has something to give Fili.
NOTES: Forward-dated to after the jump.

Thorin's gone.

Those had been the words, spoken wearily, sadly, like they were the only two words Fili could process.

There had been a pause.

You are sure?

I'm sure, Thranduil. The number on his pod was gone and he was missing.

There had been another, longer pause.

Can I come see you?

Of course.

Thranduil now paced the gardens, completely unsure what he should feel about this. Ultimately it didn't matter. He had two boys to see to, bequeathed to him by Thorin in fact if not willingly. One of them was on his way. He could decide later what his feelings were.

Thorin never took Orcrist back from him. Thranduil was having a hard time deciding if the universe forgave him anyway. Perhaps instead it was a sign that he shouldn't keep trying to look at the dwarf through rose-colored glasses for the sake of the boys.

And maybe he could discharge his obligation another way. Thorin's heir was coming, and the sword lay still underneath the roots of the great tree. The sword belonged to Fili now by right. And to Fili's hands it would come.

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Fili felt numb. He had done his best to try to help Kili through this...but he felt the need to see Thranduil, as well. Such heavy guilt, he wore--for while his Uncle had forgiven him for their earlier fight, he had still forbidden Fili from seeing the elf, and still Fili had gone against his uncles direct wishes.

And now, there would be no way to ever try to find a way to mend the gap between, no way for him to say he was sorry, to say that he had disappointed him, and that he had not meant to, in an attempt to be friends and stay good to all.

Again more mistakes made, water rushing past in a river, that could not be gained again.

So it is with this heavy heart that he heads towards Thranduil, his hands loose and useless at his side.

"I am sure Kili will come see you, later. He...we did not make good use of our time together, Thorin and us."

Thranduil takes a deep breath and nods. "Sit. Before you continue, I...have something for you."

He needs to do this now. The duty needs to be discharged.

Edited 2013-06-03 23:45 (UTC)

"I do not think now is the time for gifts, Thranduil." Fili sighs, though, and sits, just feeling tired in a way he has not in some time.

"It isn't a gift. It belonged to your uncle and now it belongs to you."

"Thranduil--"

Fili immediately knew what it was, and started slightly, frowning. "I can--

--I am not worthy of it. He should--"

Fili falls silent, unsure what to say, holding his hands tightly together, to keep them from trembling.

Slowly, Thranduil draws the sword out from under the roots of the tree and clasps it in both hands. He had had laid it on Thorin's tomb, an acknowledgment of honor come too late.

"It appeared in my locker when he arrived, though I knew not why at the time. He would not take it from my hands, for he feared some trick." He feels like it has to be explained the way it never was. He owes it to Fili. "Perhaps it is fitting. I withheld this sword from him when he was my prisoner and regretted doing so after seeing him in battle. At least fate has given me the chance to return it to his heir."

He offers Orcrist to Fili.

"It should--" Fili took the blade with trembling hands, touching it reverently, as if merely touching it would be tainting it. "I am not deserving of it."

He stared at he, shaking his head. "I betrayed his trust. I went against his word. He thought me truthful, faithful and I proved false. I do not deserve this." He said it again, as he gripped harder at the handle, his shoulders starting to shake.

Thranduil kneels swiftly and takes Fili's shoulder, looking straight into his eyes. He wants to deny the claims Fili makes against himself, but from the shaking of his shoulders, he can see the dwarf needs to calm down first or the words will not be heard. No, Fili doesn't need an argument. He needs to grieve.

He does shake his head softly, lest Fili think he agrees with the words. But he lets the dwarf do the talking, if that's what he needs.

"Don't--" Fili stiffens at the touch, remembering all the council his family has given, that dwarves do not show grief in public, it is for things behind closed doors. But still, as he stares at the blade, he feels the tears starting to form, and he starts to wipe them away angrily.

"My second chance was here, and I used it ill. I was at odds with him--I--I am not a worthy heir."

"You tried to heal a wound in him that he has borne since Erebor fell," Thranduil says softly. "That is all you are guilty of. Moreover, you have tried to heal a rift between two nations, and in Middle-earth, you would have succeeded in such a way none other has. You were not given enough time with him. Even Elves find they are not given enough time, sometimes. I could never even tell my father how I betrayed him."

His face is even. There's no guilt there, really. This is a subject he doesn't speak of, but maybe it would help Fili to hear it, if he is willing and able to listen.

"Time--" Fili nodded, he heard what Thranduil was saying about his father, and would ask about it...but the first words hit him hard, striking at the core of him. That is when the tears started to fall once more, shoulders shaking harder as he struggled to keep the sobs in, not wanting to break like this in front of Thranduil, not wanting to see so weak, so self pitying.

"I had such plans--the time given here. I just--" He shook his head, gripping at the sword. "--I wish I had something to return to." It was the best way he could say that he wished he were not dead.

Only dwarves. Seriously.

Thranduil squeezes the dwarf's shoulders gently. "Why are you ashamed of your passions? Weeping is for the strong and the weak alike. Do not fear how it will look to me."

"We feel too much--we fear that it will overtake us." Fili shook his head. Even with permission, even with such desire to let go, he struggles to do so. And yet he can not do it in his room, for fear Kili will come, and have to bear that burden.

"Allow it for a little, whether you weep or no. Allow yourself to grieve. You have lost two fathers, and that is more than most ever have to begin with."

"I have lost more than that though, have I not?" He has lost family that he never even had a chance to know, but more importantly, he has lost himself, and his brother. Whether they are alive here, or not, they are not at home. And that idea, itself, is what makes him finally break, the tears flowing freely, a hand moving to muffle a sob.

This time Thranduil nods, stoic face falling. Fili has lost a world, and grieves for everyone he ever knew. He climbs into the grav couches every month unsure if he will emerge. So often Thranduil has seen it, known it, but refused to think about it, refused to think about finding himself waiting in the locker rooms for the sight of someone who will never return. Or just as bad, of waking up in his own realm with no memory of this, no way to help the people he loves here and no awareness that he should even care. Without thinking, he is suddenly pulling Fili into his arms as if he can absorb some of that grief and fear through touch, as if Fili can feel through the strength of his embrace how very badly he wants not to lose him.

Fili should feel embarrassed, some shame in being embraced like some dwarvling who has lost his favorite toy. But he can not find it within him--even when he mourned with his brother, he had been conscious of what the other needed, and did not allow himself to completely let go, always aware of his position, as a brother. But here, with someone his Uncle wished him to hate, he found comfort, his thick fingers tugging into the elf's shirt, simply clinging as he let the grief wash over him; for his brother, his Uncle, his mother, and for himself--the first time he allowed himself that.

He would have expected it almost to be like holding a child, but it isn't. As much as he almost thinks of Fili as an honorary elf, the body in his arms is broad and stocky and strong, fingers blunt, back and shoulders muscled. He is not cradling a crying elfling. He is embracing a grown, if young, dwarf as he would a brother. Somehow it is not Fili in his eyes who is humbled, but himself, gone from king and protector to friend and mourner.

Why did he have to befriend someone he has already lost? When did Fili become so dear to him? Thinking back, he cannot think of one moment alone where it clicked into place, one instant in time he could correct if ever he went back to it. Nor does he want to correct it, although he grieves to think he will return home with his friend truly dead in deed as well as in memory. He will not even know how deeply he valued the one buried under the mountain, not even know he should at least visit the tomb and honor the one who lies there.

But he cannot think overmuch on the future. At this moment, Fili is here with him, warm and firm in his arms and not lost to him at all. Right now, Fili is alive.

It takes a few long moments (how long the minutes stretch out, he doesn't know) for Fili to come down; he loosens his hold on Thranduil only lightly, the sobbing stopped. He doesn't however pull back, completely, but simple rests his head on the elf's shoulder, trying to calm his breathing down, feeling utterly spent. Fate was a terrible thing, at times; especially to know the outcome with no way to change it--or any drive to. Fili wished that Thranduil, that Legolas even, would know him, or remember him, when they returned. If not to mourn, but to at least check on a mother that had lost so much, or to share stories with others, to know that he had managed something a bit more, even after death.

But that was not the fate he would be provided. This place was all they had, and he had to make peace with that, and live as best he could, now.

"I am sorry." It is all he can muster, a soft murmur against Thranduil's now damp shirt.

He shushes Fili gently, one hand coming to stroke the back of his hair soothingly. That gives him an idea. His a final firm squeeze, he releases the dwarf.

"Stay where you are."

Then he moves into position behind Fili, nimble fingers carefully taking out his braids.

Fili lets out a shuddered sigh, closing his eyes against the hand in his hair. He rarely gained touches like that, and it felt familiar, safe. Opening his eyes when Thranduil shifted, he frowned slightly, but his face eased when he realized what the elf was doing.

It was almost enough to bring tears to his eyes again, but he managed to swallow those emotions, but instead placed Ocarist to his side, and brought his legs up, resting his chin against his knees.

"Twas not long ago that I did this for you."

Finger-combing the long gold tresses isn't too difficult a task, but Thranduil takes longer at it than he needs to anyway, occasionally allowing his fingernails to lightly scratch the scalp.

"That is what made me think of it. If you thought it would bring comfort to me, perhaps it will bring comfort to you."

Fili finds he is relaxing, leaning back just slightly, letting Thranduil's unfamiliar, lean fingers press through his hair. "Besides my brother, no one ever touches my hair." He chuckles, "As a child I was considered lucky, and I always had people wanting to touch my locks--it shined like gold. I hated it." Blonde dwarves were rare; in the line of Durin, having more than one (as his Frerin had been blond as well, he was told) was doubly lucky.

Though that seemed quite ironic, now.

"Gold is an unusual color among the Eldar as well, but not the most unusual. I think you must be the first Dwarf I have seen with golden hair. I am quite honored, as you are so particular, that you allow me to dress it." His tone is faintly teasing.

Fili smiled, despite the sad tidings surrounding this entire day, finding comfort in someone who is not betherin, but could still easily be so, as strange as that has become. "I am told that I look a great deal like Frerin...he died in battle when he was younger than Kili." Perhaps that should have been a sign; that his looks tied to the fate of someone who died so young.

Still, it is a sad thought, and not one he wishes to dwell on. "You have allowed me the same chance to comfort; I am glad it is something we can share."

"He would have been very young indeed when he lived under the mountain. It is no wonder I never saw him." Carefully beginning to braid the golden strands. "Do you think it a burden or a comfort, to you and to your family, that you resemble him so?"

Fili let out a sigh, keeping still as he felt the fingers sliding through his hair. "I think it was a comfort to my mother. Thorin...it depended on the day." He smiled ruefully. "But that was how he was, always. I was either a blessing or a curse. It took me years to fully understand it."

It's hard to imagine what it would have been like if one of his children had been the spitting image of, say, his father. A burden and a comfort at the same time, maybe. "Did you know very much of your family, then? Or was Thrain before your time as well?"

Fili shook his head only slightly, not wanting to ruin Thranduil's work. "Only the stories told. Thorin was in and out of my life like the wind. He had responsibilities to all dwarves," so that he could not devote all time to family. "So often it was just my mother and I...and Kili. My father died not soon after Kili was born."

Carefully: "Then Thorin did as a king should. But if he had a father's love for you, I know he would rather have spent his time with you."

"I know. I never begrudged him what he had to do." Fili frowned; "His burdens were great. I tried not to add to them."

"There are some burdens fathers do not mind." Thranduil begins the other braid. "But I can say little of uncles. I have neither brothers nor sisters."

Fili smiled sadly. "I can not say what burdens fathers or uncles have." And he never will; there will never be a chance for that. "But you know how I care for my brother. I..." He shrugged, "I attempted to be father as much as I could as a child; it seemed what I should try to do, to help my mother."

"And who did the same for you?"

He's pretty sure the answer is no one, really. Or Thorin tried, but....

Fili gave a slight shrug, and proved Thranduil's ideas correct. "Thorin attempted to, but he had other duties." He did not begrudge his Uncle, nor his lack of father. He missed him, the slight shadow of a memory in his mind...but at least he had a memory of him. Kili had none of it.

Edited 2013-07-17 03:30 (UTC)

He finishes off the second braid and begins to knot them together. "As kings do. Your burden has not changed since then, but you have new ones now. You needn't carry them alone."

I'm here.

Fili turned his head just slightly to look at Thranduil, giving him a bit of a smile. "We dwarves aren't always the best at knowing how to share the load." He knew that Thranduil was here for him; and he appreciated it more than he could truly say.

"Neither are kings. That is why it is important to have one who knows how to coax it from you."

"Do you take the same advice?" Fili smiled a bit wider, then. He knew that Thranduil did, for their relationship would not be the same if he didn't, but still it was a thought.

"I am wed." In other words, he'd better. He finishes the knot and sinks down to sit beside Fili, but faced in the opposite direction from the one Fili faces.

"Of course." Fili knew it was a jest, but for some reason, it struck a hollow part in him. He had never truly thought on the future, of taking up any of the dwarven lasses and their pretty looks...but he never would, now. He did not wish to spend time feeling sorry for himself, but when things were brought up such as that, he remembered how much he lost.

When the knot is finished, he touches the braid, absently. "...a good strong braid. Thank you."

"...How do you feel now?"

Fili looked back at Thranduil, giving him a slight smile, and a nod.

"Better. I am glad to have you here with me, Thranduil."

"And I to have you, dear friend. That is a thing I will never regret about this ship."

Even when he can't remember it anymore.

Fili smirked, "Well if I can be one less regret, I will be glad for it."

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Where he dwelleth none can say [CLOSED]

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