LotR/The Hobbit Drabbles

Contrary Durins (Kili, Fili, Thorin)

A tumblr request for Imagine Fili and Kili asking you who of them you like better during the whole journey, until Thorin has enough of it and declares that he's sure you like him the most anyways.

The argument had been going on for months now. Ever since you'd joined Thorin Oakenshield's Company just outside of the Shire, his exuberant nephews had been sending taunts back and forth, each sure that the other was wrong.

"She couldn't possibly like you better," Kili called to his brother. "She prefers those with darker hair, such as my own."

Fili snorted. "But she also prefers thicker facial hair, which you," he poked his brother in the chest, "have yet to show any evidence of."

"You go too far!" Kili shouted. "Just because my beard is a bit slow doesn't mean it won't be full and luscious when it does grow in!"

"I think you mean if," Fili said calmly.

"What?"

"If," Fili continued, staring blankly ahead, "your beard grows in."

"Why you cotton-headed"—

The rest of Kili's insults were muffled as he wrestled his brother down the slope of the leaf-covered hill. You sighed. "It's your turn, Dori," you said, turning to the red-headed dwarf next to you. "I broke it up last time."

He sent you a resigned look and clambered down the leaf-covered hill after the brothers, still locked in their dispute. You wished they would stop. It was flattering at first, but now it was simply too much. Truly, if you were asked to pick between them, you would not be able to. They were both handsome and brave, and loyal to a fault. But both were a bit brash for your tastes, and hotheaded in their youth. You were a quieter sort, and did not think courting either of them would be in your best interest. Their constant pranks and loud jests were funny at times, but mostly they just exhausted you.

Not that they'd asked your preference, of course. They were too busy hissing at each other like a pair of alley cats.

But if you were to pick from among the entire Company, you knew your choice would be far easier. There was one that always seemed to capture your gaze without any effort on his part at all. He was quiet, sometimes to the point of being sullen, but he was so confident, so sure of his path. And yet, there was something about him, a part of himself that he kept hidden from the rest of the group. He had emotional scars you wanted to heal. You wanted to bring a smile to his face, just to see it. Even if it was just once.

It was even worse since the Company had departed from Beorn's home. Without Gandalf's forbearing presence, the trek across Arda to reach Erebor had proved even more trying. Not to mention this confounded forest. It confused your senses, making you forget which way was which.

"Look out!" Thorin's shout surprised you, and you pulled your broadsword, Striker, just in time to skewer the monstrous spider that blocked your path. You fought valiantly, but there were just too many, and you were overcome shortly after the fight began. One jab from their giant, hairy fangs knocked you out completely.

You woke abruptly when you fell to the ground with a great thunk. You struggled free of the silk you'd been swathed in, spitting it out of your mouth and muttering things no lady had a right to mutter.

"Are you all right?" Fili and Kili were suddenly at your side, picking strands of spider silk from your hair and clothing. Exasperated and completely done with the day, you shrugged them off, insisting that you were fine. They trailed after you, still shoving at each other, until they found elven arrows pointed at their throats. You were no better off, and apparently neither was the rest of the Company. You were promptly removed from your weapons—quite roughly, too, though you protested that your Striker was to be treated with the utmost care. They then herded you and the rest of the group to Mirkwood's cells, where they locked you up without a word. For a short while, you had a cell to yourself. That is, until the elves escorted a fuming Thorin through your barred door and locked it with a foreboding click behind him.

Thorin kept himself busy, alternating between cursing the elves out soundly in Khuzdul and brooding in silence. You tried not to watch him too closely. Instead, you settled for listening to Kili and Fili bicker over you yet again from their cells down the way.

"It should be obvious to you that between the two of us Durins, she'd prefer to be locked up with me for the rest of eternity."

"What are you talking about? You'd bore her to death."

"Me? Boring? I'd sooner call you handsome."

"If you're going to"—

"Enough!" Thorin roared from his corner, making you jump in surprise. "Stop that bickering at once."

"But, Uncle, we must decide which of us Y/N likes best!" Kili called.

"Or which one of us best suits her," Fili piped in.

Thorin rolled his eyes, though only you could see it. "If she were to pick one of Durin's folk, she might not pick either of you at all."

Their protestations and noises of confusion stopped when Thorin called out, "This argument has gone on long enough. In any case, it is obvious that she prefers me to both of you," he said. You couldn't tell from his tone whether he was serious or not, even after he called his nephews insufferable idiots under his breath.

"How did you know?" you asked after a lengthy moment of silence.

Thorin started, leaping to his feet and clutching at the air around his belt for his sword that was no longer there. He exhaled roughly when his blue eyes focused on you. "I was not aware that you were being kept here, too."

You shrugged and smiled in apology. "I didn't mean to startle you."

He seemed to remember your initial question as he settled back down on the floor of the cell. "How did I know what?"

You winced. "That I preferred you."

He blinked once, then twice. "I did not know. I guessed. But mostly I wanted to put an end to their childish argument."

"Oh." You turned your head, hoping the hair falling across your face would hide the blush. He had not known about your childish crush until you'd just revealed it so plainly. How could you be so stupid?

"Wait," Thorin said, scooting across the floor so that he was kneeling in front of you. "You do prefer me?"

You rolled your eyes then pinned him with a glare that you would turn upon yourself if you could. "I just said I did, didn't I?"

He nodded. "I just wanted to make sure I was not dreaming."

"Dreaming?"

He smiled apologetically. "I have dreamed, but I did not... I did not dare hope that you might."

You fought the sudden urge to throw your arms around him. "Then, do you prefer me, as well?"

"Aye," he said, his voice so low that it sent shivers up your spine. "I do prefer you. Above anyone else."

"Good." You smiled so wide you were sure your cheeks would crack with it. His answering smile stole your breath. It was better than any smile you'd imagined on his face, and you had been the reason for it.

He gently took your hand in his and turned it over, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles. The velvety softness of his lips combined with the contrasting tickle of his beard made a blush flood up your neck to your cheeks.

"I would be happy to spend an eternity locked up with this Durin," you whispered with what little breath you could muster, trying to joke about one of his nephew's earlier comments.

Thorin chuckled. "If my encounter with the Elvenking has anything to do with it, you will likely get the opportunity to put that statement to the test."

You groaned. "Thorin, what did you do?"

He turned to sit next to you, pulling you close with one arm around your shoulders. "I've started another argument."

You muttered something very unladylike about contrary Durins that sent Thorin's bellowing laughter ringing through Mirkwood's prison.