A light breeze crept its way lazily through the trees, stirring the branches enough to rain a few crisp leaves upon Fili’s head. It was almost sun-down and he knew he’d be summoned shortly, drawn from his peaceful reverie by the knell of the supper evenbells.
He was soon to leave this place he’d never called home to reclaim a place he’d never called home. But to restore hope and glory to all Dawrf kind was the highest of honours and Fili would fight for his people until death knocked him down. The spark of passion that had been set ablaze long ago, set ablaze by Uncle Thorin’s stories of Dragons and Balin’s tales of gold, flickered as the desire to regain Erebor glowed fiercely inside him.
This would be a long journey, but it would be a worthy one.
Fili blinked, surprised by his own lapse into such dreamy realms. “Kili,” he looked up from his position against the great tree trunk and smiled.
The setting sun had illuminated his brother’s dark mane, making him seem very beautiful indeed, and suddenly the embers inside him sparked in a different kind of way, one just as familiar but twice as bright.
“What brings you to the top of the hill?” He asked.
“You did,” Kili replied softly. Calloused fingers from years of wielding a bow and arrow reached forward to grasp the locks of golden hair that had been braided by Kili two days prior. The gentle motion caused Fili’s eyes to slip shut for a fleeting moment and his head to bump back against the bark of the tree.
“You should be down wishing Goodwills to our mother,” Fili admonished. But he did not mean the rebuke and he knew Kili understood. In a burst of fondness he wrapped his hands around his Kili’s forearm and tugged his brother down to sit side by side.
The companionship of Kili was all Fili would need for the long journey ahead and he wanted to tell his brother this. Another spring wind drifted amongst the canopies and still Fili remained silent.
The words would not come but he did not need them, for Kili turned, pushing into Fili’s side and brushing the end of his nose against the line of File’s beard.
“Brother,” Kili breathed against Fili’s cheek. “Tomorrow we go.”
Fili turned, reaching up to clasp Kili’s hair in both his hands, tugging his brother against him and wanting nothing more than to be as close as sword and sheath. Their lips met wildly, a desperate force arrowing between them. But the kiss was as gentle as an Elf’s touch and Fili’s brow furrowed as he vowed never to leave his brother’s side.
They broke apart, Kili still clinging to Fili, his lips seeking to touch once more. Fili sighed and complied, ghosting his lips over his brother’s in the most sincere of kisses. They held tight until the stars were twinkling in the skies of Middle Earth.
“Tomorrow we go.”