Meet me in the garden where the weeds grow tall

[unbraided]

CHARACTERS: Kili ( unbraided ) & Frodo ( ringbearer )
LOCATION: O2 Gardens
WARNINGS: feelings :c
SUMMARY: Thorin disappears and Kili feels guilty about lying which means it's clearly time for an overdue talk with his hobbit buddy.
NOTES: gratuitous feelings all over the place, sorry TQ

Now that the bustle of post-jump has ended, Kili’s left feeling as if he’s adrift in an ocean. It’s like he was back in the barrel Bilbo had packed him in back in Mirkwood, scrambling to hold himself together and not drown or worry too much on whether he and the rest would live through this.

And there’s guilt throughout it all.

Had he wasted the only opportunity to speak with Thorin one more time? Had the lies they told and the things they’d kept from him damaged it all? One of the last things Kili remembers is the fighting, being banned from seeing Thranduil or Legolas and he’d felt as if he was but a dwarfling being chided for dragging mud through the house or skipping lessons. Kili was young, it’s true, and despite the fact that he’s had to grow up in the face of his own death, he’s still little more than the young dwarrow he was when he arrived.

So Thranduil worries over the dragon he’s gained guardianship over and Fili once more bears title of heir without king, and Kili feels nearly as if he is on the other side of a window looking in. But still, sometimes he is glad to not be the heir, to be steps away from a throne and crown Kili knows he could never have borne, and this is one of them. 

Still, it leaves Kili with a foul taste in his mouth and the silence of the gardens around him. There’s only so much he can take, so much bottling up and silence and while Kili knows he can’t burden his brother with more, he can’t keep quiet or he’ll shatter like too thin ice across a lake. With a shuddered breath he fishes his comm out and carefully plucks out a message.

Are you in the gardens? A pause and Can we talk?

Comments

[ringbearer]

He's already settled into his quarters when the device flashes, lights with words. About to rest his weakening limbs, the ringbearer finds it the letters from a familiar soul, and feels his heart clench.

It was never like Kili to express urgency or aid, no, the jolly dwarf often kept to himself with his lightheartedness. If he were to ask him such a thing, him of all things then it meant something. It had to mean something.

This in mind, the hobbit forgot his aching legs and rose upon them again, reaching for his cloak, fastening it tight over his shoulders. The door opens with a little slide and Frodo Baggins makes his way to the gardens, best as he can.

Granted his weakened body it takes a bit of time, but the answer he gives in the meantime is as assuring as he can make it.

Of course. I'm on my way as quick as I might.

Ten minutes later behind another ten, Frodo arrives slowly but surely. His feet pad the ground with a quiet, acquired softness of one used to walking in shadows, in hiding.

Slowly but surely, Frodo calls out his name, gentle, but concerned.

"Kili?"

[unbraided]

Though Frodo can't see it, Kili's face crumples in relief, brows drawing together and shoulders slumping. He's always been independent for as much as he could be, wild and reckless and testing limits but always, always returning to his brother's side like the crash of a wave upon the shore. They don't share everything, for Fili seeks to protect him and so too does Kili, but usually he can go to his brother with his concerns and be comforted.

This time he can't, not really. Kili's already seen the tears fall from pale eyes, has already been the pillar of strength for Fili when he needed it, and this would just undermine that effort. Or so he thinks. So there's a ragged draw of breath and he sends a quick Thank you before following it with directions to the meadow with a stream run right through it.

That settled, Kili draws his knees up and presses forehead to them, arms wrapped about his legs. He tries not to think about everything and anything, fails a bit miserably. So when Frodo speaks up, Kili isn't even sure how long it's been between one text and the call of his name. His voice pipes up, still worn about the edges but loud enough to be heard.

"I'm here Frodo."

[ringbearer]

It's the sight that tells him everything he needs to know. The drawn up figure, hunched and sad, so unlike Kili. Kili who always smiled, Kili who always laughed and bolstered other's spirits. It doesn't paint a pleasant picture.

Tentative, but steady, Frodo draws closer, on quiet feet, seating himself with a whisper of grass pillowing his weight.

"Kili, what happened?" He wouldn't have asked if they weren't friends, wouldn't have been so frank in wanting to know the source.

But they are friends and he can't ignore how badly Kili needs someone. He's often been a source of hope and optimism for him -- Frodo isn't the most put-together, in fact whether he's together at all is a question to the world, but for Kili, he wants to try.

[unbraided]

Hobbit footsteps were always softer than Dwarvish ones, no matter what, and even if he wasn't lost in thought Kili probably would have taken a second to notice the pad of feet in soft grass. As it is, he looks up and over, listing to the side until there's the slight warmth of Frodo against him and his hair curtains about his face.

He doesn't have to hide with Frodo, he already knows the ending of their story, and that's a relief to Kili as he is. There's a soft sound halfway between a sigh and a sob and one hand scrubs at his eyes.

"Thorin's gone." Breathes in, out. "I-- we--," his voice breaks, eyes troubled and pained when he meets Frodo's gaze. "We lied to him Frodo, we didn't tell him everything and now he's -- he's going off to die and he was so angry last I saw of him."

Kili feels young, younger than usual perhaps, and it shows. There's an almost childish hope that Frodo will know how to comfort him, but Kili doesn't think there is a comfort for this. He and Fili died defending Thorin, and though there was no hope of him remembering their words when he was sent back, there's horror in the back of his mind that Kili had forsaken his Uncle, he who would be King, and left him to his end.

It's almost too much to bear.

[ringbearer]

It doesn't take much for the emotion in Kili's eyes to be reflected in Frodo's large, blue as they were. If he could bear Kili's sadness he would, even if there's still much and more to bear, he would because Kili is his friend.

Thorin goes to finish his part in one of the great stories, Fili and Kili are left behind. Their own deaths held back, for a time. It's enough to make him swallow hard, because selfishly, Frodo doesn't want Kili to leave. He'd much rather his friend somehow return to Middle-earth, find Gimli and safer company with them while he finishes the journey.

Selfish, silly dreams that won't come true, because he is friends with someone who has already died, long before he was born.

But this isn't about his pain, it's about Kili's. How small and little he seems now, not the brave, wild fighter he knew him to be. The jovial, laughing dwarf who cast something like the sun in his otherwise darkening sight.

And there is nothing he can say.

Not in words.

So he scoots a little closer, moves wordlessly before he presses a thin arm around the other's, dark curls pressed against the side of Kili's head. He twines his arms around him, attached to his side, as if to hold him safe and secure, even if there are so many things that aren't, and will never be for him.

And Frodo begins to feel, for him as well.

[unbraided]

He wouldn't be able to bear that, knowing he was adding his sadness and burdens to the ones already laden upon Frodo's shoulders. Already there's regret in calling to him, in dragging the worn hobbit down from where he rested. Kili feels that regret and shame bubble up beneath the cage of his ribs, but there's a warmth brought about simply because Frodo cares enough to actually show up after one simple message.

So yes, Thorin has gone to his death, where Fili and Kili should and will find their places beside him. And while there is little more than a brutal battle and miserable death awaiting him, Kili still feels responsible. He should have done something, should have helped ease Thorin's burdens just a bit more. But for all that Kili wants to follow after his uncle and the dwarf that was his king in all but formality, he doesn't want to die.

He can not say it, has not said it. But Fili knows, Thranduil certainly sees, and is it not unlikely to say that Frodo too can see the fear of what he is returning to?

Because Kili likes not living in pain; likes that the ship sought fit to bring him back before a blade tore into the side of his face and ruined an eye, likes that there were no arrows punched through shoulder and lung and that he can still draw breath without the bubble of blood with each gasp. Dying is nothing he could ever put in words, and so he doesn't. Just as Frodo doesn't speak but comforts all the same.

He feels like a child, limbs too long and gangly like a colt, when he wraps around Frodo and turns his face into the softness of his hair with a broken sound.

[ringbearer]

Frodo hears the sound, only quietly squeezes his shoulder with a worn hand, as if he could impart strength, comfort, anything that could be used to help piece together his expression into something brighter. In so many ways does Kili remind him of Pippin, of Merry. So close to his brother, so bright and mischievous. Somehow so young even though he was older. Someone he felt needed looking after as he undoubtedly did.

He holds him like that, save that his curls aren't honey-brown or gold, but dark, braided and wild. Closes his eyes and wonders if he should ask what he feels nagging at him. Frodo could hardly lie and tell him he would see him again if he was from a time before all three of their deaths, something that made him feel more ill than he'd ever been hearing it from Bilbo.

It's with a pause, a sigh, that he find that courage that hasn't abandoned him.

"Kili..what last do you remember? Before arriving here."

[unbraided]

That touch is as grounding as a cornerstone of a building, solid and comforting for all the thin fingers and waifish build of his friend. Tears build at his eyes and slip beneath inky lashes, wetting Frodo's hair before he can pull away and angrily swipe them away. There's a deep breath and again, Kili wonders how he could have been so lucky as to find a friend like Frodo.

(That eats at him, the knowledge that he will never go home and have the freedom to visit the Shire and watch Frodo grow up, to become friends once more.)

Still, the question takes him by surprise and Kili blinks down at Frodo for a second. It ebbs, surprise filtering away into a dull sense of dismay and resignation before he once again settles against Frodo, fingers twining through dark curly hair. Frodo knows how Bilbo's tale ends, it cannot startle him, but Kili has become more of a friend than a figure, and he worries.

His heart quivers in his chest, feeling too tight and too tender.

"I remember seeing my uncle and my brother fall, and I remember looking into Fili's face as I followed." A quiet exhale, fingers rubbing at the bridge of his nose before he continues, gently. "I remember the end of my story."

[ringbearer]

He welcomes the tears, whatever grief he has, Frodo has enough left to bear. It is no trouble if it comes from a friend -- perhaps he has a gift at least in bearing things, so if he cannot ease this pain behind that sunny smile, he will take it. Frodo has been in the business of bearing the hopes of Man and Elves, but to bear a friend's is a honor greater, he thinks.

A hand curls into his hair, the hobbit listening with an anvil on his chest, a weight with the prolonged silence. There is no need to look at his face, for he will find his answer therein.

Kili has died.

There's a wetness that stings his own eyes, when he thinks the tears have long gone into his heart, with all the darkness inside.

He can no longer imagine Kili being felled, or killed -- and it has nothing to do with Bilbo's journey.

Frodo's gently pulls back, hands squeezing whatever comfort they can into his shoulders. His voice is soft, aching with sorrow for him, eyes brighter than they should be.

"Then there is little for me to say to you, brave son of Durin. It is a far sadder business than it is in a book. But I will tell you that I would not exchange our friendship for anything, and that I would prefer you as flesh and friend than a mere story close to my heart. Even so.."

His smile is watery.

"You are as heroic and as good as I imagined you. I am honored to be your friend, Kili, brother of Fili, member of the bravest company of dwarves I have ever heard in tales."

[unbraided]

The sight of those tears is not really one Kili had expected, and with a soft touch he brushes the wetness from Frodo's cheeks, brow creased. If Frodo had simply cried, hand simply put his arms tight around Kili and held him close, maybe it would have simply been a relief, a gladness in his chest.

Instead, Frodo seeks to comfort, to bear grief and he speaks, calls Kili brave and heroic and good with that wavering smile and voice surprising strong for such a little thing. For a moment he's shocked silent, letting the words build up and crest in the back of his mind. And then Kili bows his head, presses their foreheads together with a soft hiccup, tears falling from his eyes.

"And I am honored to be your friend, Frodo," A smile, wavering and soft, "I cannot say I have heard you in tales, but I wish I could have been there to see you grow up on mine."

[ringbearer]

There is a strength in the hobbit that few could openly see. It is one that is buried beneath layers and layers of suffering, an occasional madness but it is there. It is all that keeps the hero's feet moving, all that keeps him going when his body has long felt the limit passed.

Yet Frodo Baggins is a powerful little thing, even if he does not fully know the extent of how deeply that rings true. Perhaps not in the way of wielding a blade but there is a will and strength in him that has granted him an evil fate to begin with.

So he can bear this, if he can bear the world, he can bear his dear friend Kili's pain, feel it keenly as if it were his own. Shed tears for the brave, compassionate dwarf that he was. And maybe weep a little in his heart, that he had not ever been granted the blessing of meeting him in reality.

The words he says are painful but sweet, as are all the tales of Middle-earth, and Frodo laughs but it sounds a bit like a sob, gently smoothing back dark strands of hair in a tender gesture.

"Yes, you might have been there to see me in all my wildness, before I became a gentlehobbit."

Before he became what he could see. Someone unfixable and broken.

"But I might not know you then, but I know you now. And that is enough, I think, for now. For I would see darker days here if we had never met at all."

[unbraided]

Kili has learned not to underestimate even the most unlikely of people. Sure he'd always known that even small people can pack a punch, even he'd known appearances could be deceiving, but to see the well of strength still hidden in Frodo? Well, it is a surprise and will continue to be so even long after Frodo leaves back to his own quest and Kili is left to eke out a living on a metal ship floating in the sky.

That little laugh tears at him, tugs at bruised heartstrings and imprints itself along the tender lining of Kili's heart. He turns his face into Frodo's palm, tears wet against skin and a wet laugh of his own escapes him.

"I would like to have seen that, I think." Kili smiles, a broken little thing, " But this is enough. You have been a better friend to me than I ever expected, Frodo, and as long as I live I shall never forget that."