Fíli liked to believe that he possessed some modicum of common sense, and it had kept him out of trouble.

Mostly.

Sort of.

Perhaps a minor correction – it had kept him out of trouble with the exception of a few instances, like when he and Kíli lost the Company's ponies to the Trolls because they had been too busy horsing (heh) around. Or, that unfortunate instance with those rambunctious children in Hobbiton that most definitely did not end in blackmail. Nonetheless, Fíli felt like his common sense acted as a gatekeeper against impulsive, reckless actions.

Which was why Fíli could not help but feel slightly betrayed by his own body upon waking up the next morning, reeking of booze and feeling very much like death.

"Owwww." He cracked his eyes open with a hiss as his head pounded to the beat of his heart in slow, hot, aching pulses. His throat felt parched and scratchy, his skin taut from the salt of his dried sweat, and his eyes heavy and crusted over.

Mahal, what happened?

He took few slow breaths and made a few attempts to swallow as his mind wandered to the evening before. He remembered meeting up with his cousin, meandering through what seemed like nearly every single stall in the night market (because Cousin Thorin was ruthless when it came to securing discounts), then, finally, wandering into a bar where Thorin promptly dragged him and half the establishment into a drinking contest of epic proportions. It lasted 'til the wee hours of the morning.

The latter may or may not have involved a fist fight but the details were alarmingly hazy.

(What he did remember was drinking to drown out the feelings of bitterness, frustration and hopelessness as the image of his brother with that she-Elf continued to sear itself into his mind like a brand. He drank until sweet numbness spread through his body like ice through his veins, and he drank and drank and drank until his thoughts, his feelings, everything just stopped –)

Fíli groaned and shut his eyes. He took a shuddering breath.

Right. None of that.

Breakfast. He should focus on getting breakfast instead, preferably something salty and greasy to coat his stomach and one of Bilbo's ginger teas to wash down the shame.

With the energy he did not know he possessed, Fíli rolled out of bed, landing on his hands and knees on the carpet with a slight "oomph." He tried to haul himself upright once his strength returned to his jellied limbs, but even then, it took two shaky attempts before his knees stopped buckling under his own weight.

Slowly, painfully, he shuffled to the basin of cold water by his night stand with one hand pressed against the cool stone wall to support his weight. He wiped himself down as best as he could with a damp rag, and when he deemed himself somewhat presentable, he shuffled towards the door on steadier legs.

With half-shut eyes, he let his nose guide him to the breakfast table. Already, he could smell the heady, delightful aroma of eggs and cured meat, but he did not dare to open his eyes wider to check, least the brightness of the room aggravated his pounding headache even further.

Let this be a lesson learned, Fíli thought with annoyance and something akin to deep, pained regret. Cousin Thorin was a chaos enabling little shit, and Fíli will never set foot in another tavern with him ever again, or so help him Mahal. In fact, he –

"Fíli?! What happened to you?"

Fíli reeled back by the sudden, sharp pain lancing through his head. "Ow, ow, not so loud," he hissed out. When he managed to crack an eye open, it was to the blurry sight of his brother, dressed and cleaned, sitting at the breakfast table with a tall stack of pancakes in front of him.

"Kíli? What are you doing here?" he croaked out, "I thought you have plans with Miss Tauriel this morning."

"I do have plans but they are after breakfast and well," Kíli shrugged a little helplessly and added, his voice quieter, "I wanted to have breakfast with you first."

Despite his miserable state, Fíli can't help but feel a flutter of light happiness in his heart. "Thank you, Kíli." He gave his brother what he hoped was a gentle smile though he suspected it came out more as a pained grimace. "No need to worry about me. Just battling a headache at the moment."

"A headache? From what?" he heard as he finished dragging himself to his seat. "What did you do?"

Fíli grunted. "Ale. Drank copious amounts of it." Then, he added with a mutter, "We definitely went overboard."

"We?"

Fíli hummed and reached for some dry toast and ham. Best not to overdo it with food until he was certain that his stomach agreed with him. "Cousin Thorin and I went to a tavern after the night market and, well, Cousin Thorin is a bit of a troublemaker. My head is paying the price for it."

"…I see," came Kíli's response a few beats after. Fíli looked up from his plate.

"Kíli? Is something wrong?"

His brother was quick to shake his head. "No, no. Nothing wrong. Would you like some ginger tea? I can ask one of the servants to prepare some for you."

"That would be lovely, thank you," Fíli said, relieved, slumping back into his chair to chew mechanically on his breakfast, the sound of his brother's cutlery clinking against tableware oddly soothing and lulling him into a sleepy daze.

He roused at the heavy thud of something being deposited on the table in front of him. Warm, spicy scent of ginger filled his senses a second later. "Hmmmm," he breathed out in appreciation, his eyes falling shut again.

"Oh, for the love of – here, let me." There was a scraping sound – a chair against the floor, followed by liquid pouring into vessel before something warm and smooth was pressed into his hands, and the spicy scent intensified by two-fold. "There, now be careful not to spill that."

"Thanks, Kee," Fíli cracked an eye open and grinned at the disgruntled look on his brother's face. Slowly, he drew the mug to his lips, taking a light sip of the liquid, and savouring the warm tingling sensation that flowed down his parched throat to rest comfortably in his stomach.

"Better?"

"Hmm," Fíli nodded, taking a second, then a third sip.

"You are positively useless after a night of indulgence," Kíli huffed out.

"All the better that I don't indulge often, then." Fíli placed his empty mug on the table and reached for the tea pot, pouring himself another cup.

"Especially not with Cousin Thorin," came Kíli's muttered response. At Fíli's frown of confusion, he turned away and cleared his throat. "I mean, if you are going end up in this sorry state every time you and Thorin spend time at a tavern, then, well," he gestured at the pot, "I don't think Erebor has enough ginger tea to keep you functioning."

"Yes, yes, rub it in, why don't you," Fíli grumbled. "Besides, weren't you the one who encouraged me to spend time with our dear cousin?"

Kíli made a face of disgust like he had swallowed a rancid lemon. "Urgh, do not remind me." He pushed his empty plate away from him in a gesture that reminded Fíli of a sullen child, or a disgruntled kitten.

"Aside from your evening of terribleness, has anything been causing you grief?"

Fíli shook his head. "Things have been surprisingly peaceful. The suitors have been quiet. I haven't even received a single love note, let alone gifts."

And thank goodness for that. The Dwarves have opted to watch from afar, whispering to each other in a frenzy whenever Fíli crossed paths with them. As much as he hated to admit it, the visible guards placed near him was probably one of the factors that dissuaded the suitors from being more…aggressive with their courting attempts. Uncle Thorin's very public expulsion of the more egregious Dwarves was another.

"Good," Kíli uttered with force before reaching for the pot of coffee and pouring himself a generous cup. "Hopefully, it stays that way."

Fíli shrugged helplessly and drained the last of his tea. Knowing the tenacity of Dwarves, he doubted that this moment of peace would last.

At least if the Dwarves decided to mob him again, he would be prepared this time. That and if Cousin Thorin was nearby, he could help fend them off.

The image of Thorin soaring through the air, screeching came to his mind again and he bit down his snicker. If nothing else, Cousin Thorin would make for a good battering ram. Or a cannon ball.

"What are you snickering on about now?"

"Just the thought of Cousin Thorin sailing through the air," Fíli chuckled. "I pulled the trick Dwalin taught us," he mimed the over the shoulder toss.

The grin that spread on Kíli's face was positively devilish. "Oh, I saw that bit. I was passing by the rink yesterday. Hard to miss with all the screeching. You were brilliant, by the way."

And just like that, Fíli felt his good humour turn sour. Of course, his brother had witnessed it, although it was news to Fíli that Kíli was even paying attention given how the archer was clearly preoccupied with –

"Right," Fíli stood up and pushed his chair back. He was definitely not thinking about it. "I really ought to check on Cousin Thorin to see how he is holding up. I will, uh, see you this evening then."

With a tight nod to his surprised looking brother, he turned to march back to his chambers for a change of clothes when he felt a hand tugging at his sleeves.

"Wait." Kíli stared up earnestly from his seat, his brows furrowed. "I just, that is – " he shook his head. "I – this was fun. I know I was a bit of a prick for the past few months but, um, I miss this, a lot," he looked away, his expression sheepish. "Do you think we can do this again? Maybe, tomorrow even?"

As if Fíli could ever deny his brother anything.

"Of course, Kee," he promised. "Tomorrow."

For the second time that day, Fíli found himself cradling ginger tea against his chest, this time contained in one of Bilbo's delicate porcelain teapots. As he hefted the pot closer to his body, he could feel the warmth bleeding uncomfortably through the tea cozy and into his blue woollen overcoat.

In hindsight, he should have carried it on a tray or something, but Fíli's effort to do something kind for his cousin only extended so far. In this case, it was having the tea in one of those frou frou pots that he knew Cousin Thorin would appreciate. And bringing an empty tea mug (of dubious cleanness) with him, which currently sat in his pocket.

"Thorin?" He knocked on the door with his free hand. "Are you awake? I brought you some tea."

No answer.

"Thorin?" The lack of answer did not surprise him, especially if Thorin felt as miserable as Fíli did. Still, "If you do not answer the door in the next few minutes, I am leaving with your tea."

Distantly, he could hear a crashing sound, and muffled curses, followed by a louder, "Coming! I am coming!"

Fíli rolled his eyes and adjusted his grip on the tea. He glanced down, bored, and blinked.

There was a package sitting outside of the door, barely hidden behind the statue of Durin the Deathless.

Fíli leaned a little closer. It was a shabby, lumpy, plain looking thing, wrapped in brown burlap and tied together with twine. There were holes in the burlap, and through them, Fíli could just make out something dark and gleaming from the inside…

"Cousin Fíli!" The door yanked open and Fíli jolted back with a yelp, his arms tightening around the tea pot.

"Ah! Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to startle you there," Cousin Thorin croaked out by way of greeting. His hair and beard were barely braided with loose strands escaping from all directions. A dark red, loose-fitting tunic fitted over his body with simple silver embroideries adorning the collar and the sleeves. This was contrasted by the dark, plain pants tucked into equally dark, plain boots. They matched the deep purple circles under his cousin's sleepy eyes.

There was a certain softness, a certain vulnerability, that Fíli had never seen in his cousin before, and he has an inkling that not many were privy to seeing this side of Thorin, stripped as he was of his usual dazzling smiles and flowery words.

Not like Fíli will ever tell his cousin any of that, nor stop him from teasing Thorin.

"I brought you some ginger tea. It has the effect of quelling stomach pains and nausea." Fíli hoisted the tea pot a little higher. "Can I come in, or would you like me to leave this here for you to consume by your lonesome and in wretched misery?"

Scowling, Thorin opened the door wider and waved him in. "Not an ounce of pity even when you see your favourite cousin in pain," he bemoaned. "Heartless, utterly heartless."

"I would feel more pity if you did not do this to yourself." Fíli paused, "There is also a satchel sitting outside of your door. Do you want me to bring that in for you?"

Thorin looked confused until his gaze fell on the package. For a second there, his eyes narrowed and his frown deepened, but just as quickly, his expression relaxed into a nonchalant half-smile. "Oh, never you mind. I will fetch that later. Come in."

"Alright, if you say so." Shrugging, Fíli entered the room, deposited the tea and the mug on the table before taking a seat. The royal guest room that Cousin Thorin was staying in was one of the few places that required minimum renovation. It was the furthest removed from the royal vaults and as a result, it was mostly insulated from Smaug-related damages. Much of its architecture remained unchanged from the days the room was first carved out of the mountain. The ornate geometric designs chiselled into the walls and pillars, however, were added under the rule of Thráin the Old.

It made for a rather somber-looking room if not for the wall tapestries featuring blooming flowers and lush curling vines, and the vibrant green tablecloths, topped with lacy, delicate doilies.

The red wool rug on the floor also lessened the chill in the room.

Clearly, those were all Bilbo's additions, and the Hobbit had positively cackled when he had Uncle Thorin lug those items to the room – something about having been "wrenched out of Lobelia's wretched, no-good claws" and "he'll be damned if his favourite tapestry stayed in Bag-End where his greedy cousins can have a second go at it." Why anyone would want to claim such an ugly tapestry was beyond Fíli, but none had dared to protest, least of all Uncle Thorin, who had wisely stayed silent.

"How are you feeling?" Fíli asked when his cousin slumped into his seat with a sigh of relief before sprawling out on the table, laying facedown with his arms outstretched. "Aside from your stomach that is. Your head better be smarting, you arse."

Cousin Thorin barely lifted his head up to throw him a dirty look. "My head is hurting a little, thank you for your concern." He mimed a Give Me motion at the teapot a few inches out of his reach. Rolling his eyes yet again, Fíli reached for the pot and poured him a healthy mug.

"I brought you tea and I am serving you a cup," he said as he thrusted the mug into Thorin's eager hands. "That is the most amount of pity I am willing to spare."

"Why, you're welcome, Cousin Fíli, for giving you a cracking good evening of merriment and mirth," Cousin Thorin muttered and pulled himself upright. He took a delicate sip and made a face of disgust. "Urgh, and here I thought you were trying to help me. What in Mahal's name is this?"

"Like I had said, this is ginger tea and it helps with the nausea. Stop being such a beardling and drink it." Fíli ignored the drawn-out groan of protest. "It's good for you. And you better not let Bilbo hear you insult his precious ginger tea."

"For such a small creature, he sure is terrifying." Despite his whining, Cousin Thorin took the next sip without so much of a grimace. "Are you certain that he is a Halfing and not, say, half-Balrog?"

"Can't be. He is too fond of doilies and etiquette," Fíli responded dryly. "And green things."

Cousin Thorin shot Fíli a look of incredulity over the rim of his mug. "How do you know that Balrogs are not fond of green things?"

Fíli spluttered. "Because they are evil incarnate?" Fíli was no expert but he was fairly certain that Balrogs hate everything. Except maybe murder or torture.

Apparently satisfied with the answer, Thorin only grunted in response and went back to his tea. At least more colour has returned to his face, Fíli was happy to note.

"I am assuming that you were the one to bring me back to my room last night?" Fíli shifted in his seat at his cousin's attention, suddenly feeling awkward and embarrassed. "I cannot remember much from last night, but um, thank you, for that. I think."

Thorin scoffed. "I think we more or less ended up propping ourselves up as we meandered back. The guards stepped in to help at some point. I did haul you to your bed though." He leaned over and leered, and although his air of mischievousness was somewhat dimmed from how haggard he looked, Fíli still stiffened instinctively at Cousin Thorin's shit-eating grin, "I did not know you were such a cuddler, Cousin. Why, I practically had to pry my arm away from your iron grip."

"I do not cuddle!" Fíli recoiled, mortified.

"Oh," the leering intensified along with the tic in Fíli's left eye, "then clearly it is only me who is getting the special treatment. I knew it! Cousin Fíli has a soft spot for little old me all along!"

Fíli threw him a dirty, dirty look. "Oh just – just – shut it and drink your tea!" At his Cousin's guffaw, he glared even harder. "I hope your headache continues to make you feel miserable for the rest of the day, if not, for the rest of the week."

Cousin Thorin gasped and clutched dramatically at his heart. "Oh, how your cruel words wound me."

Fíli rolled his eyes. He did not know why he even bothered with his cousin. "Well, clearly you are feeling better judging from your dramatic antics. And with that, my moral obligation to act as a good host is complete." Fíli stood up and brushed himself off. "Feel free to find me later this afternoon when you are feeling more alive. I have some free time then. Assuming, of course, that you are acting less like an insufferable git by then."

He did not bother to disguise the smile on his face at the sound of his cousin's indignant squawk as he let himself out.

As he closed the door behind him, he found his eyes inexplicably drawn to the haggard package again, at the glint of glossy black that peaked out from where the burlap wrapping had teared.

He edged towards it closer, only hesitating a little before picking the package up and turning it in his hand. There was something about it that bothered him, something about the texture of the item inside the package that screamed of familiarity, but he could not quite put his finger on it.

"Oh, Your Highness!"

"Gah!" He jumped at the voice and whirled around. A wide-eyed servant stared back at him with a wicker basket clutched to his chest. The servant was dressed in a fading green tunic belted around his middle. Embroidered at the collar and the sleeves were simple, but decorative runes that identified him as a Dwarf of the Iron Hills.

"Many apologies for startling Your Highness." The servant bowed humbly without jostling the contents of his basket. "I thought Your Highness was –" the servant cut himself off with a firm shake of his head. "Never mind that. What brings Your Highness here this fine morning?"

"I was, em, just visiting my cousin." Upon seeing the servant's not-so subtle, nervous glances at the packet in his hand, he frowned, instantly suspicious. "I found this outside his room and thought I should bring it in for him."

"No, no, Your Highness! Please do not concern yourself with such lowly task," and if Fíli thought the servant sounded nervous before, he was positively sweating now, "Let me take that."

Fíli easily side-stepped the servant's desperate grab at the package and held it aloft. "What is going on," he narrowed his gaze at the spluttering servant. "What is in this package."

"It is – I am – " the servant's eyes dart from side to side. "Many apologies Your Highness!" And with that, the servant made to turn tail and run.

Except, no. Fíli was not having it. His free hand snaked forward on instinct and pull the servant back by his tunic.

At least, that was his intention except at that very moment, the servant slipped backwards, and with the loss of the servant's footing, Fíli suddenly found himself yanking the other back with more force than anticipated. He had a second to register the blur of panicked, flailing mass rushing towards him before –

"Oof!"

Twin bodies crashed into the ground with a solid thud. Fíli could feel the air knock out of his lungs as the servant land directly on to his chest, pressing his body firmly into the cold, unforgiving floor.

There was a beat of awkward silence, then, "Owww." Fíli hissed out with a wince. Mahal, his back was going to smart.

"Your Highness, I am so sorry, so sorry!" came the squeak from somewhere above him. He cracked an eye open.

The servant from before stared back at him, practically quaking in fear from his position on top of Fíli. "Are you going to run now?" Fíli asked dryly. At the sharp shake of the servant's head, he sighed. "Good. Now, get off of me and explain why you felt the need to escape."

He ignored the squeak and the servant clambering to his feet, his eyes drawn by the glint of something that caught his attention from his periphery vision. He turned his head.

A few feet away from him was the servant's discarded basket, but from it, lay a scattering of other packets similarly bundled in rough cloth and twine, some of which have burst open from the impact on the floor.

"What is all this?"

A small mound of dark glinting something has leaked from one of the packets and has collected on the floor. Fíli reached into the mound and plucked out a smooth piece the size of his finger tip. It looked like the same item that was found in the packet by Cousin Thorin's door.

Fíli bent the piece a little between his thumb and index finger. It felt strong, but flexible, with small bumps lining the surface. Strangely, it reminded Fíli of –

"It is imitation dragon scale, Your Highness," came the servant's resigned answer.

They made their way back to the breakfast nook in Fíli and Kíli's shared apartment after they had cleaned up the mess.

"Now, talk." Fíli said after he had gotten the servant to sit down. The room was mercifully empty – Kíli having apparently left for the morning – and they were left to their privacy. "What are these imitation dragon scales and why were they being delivered to Thorin? Why were you running away from me?"

"Your Highness, I did not mean to run!" blurted out the paling servant. "I just – I panicked! Lord Thorin had told me not to – " his eyes widened and he slapped his hand over his mouth.

But the servant had said enough for Fíli to piece together some of the events. He stared at the servant, unimpressed. "Lord Thorin told you to keep quiet about the fact that he is receiving imitation dragon scales. And to comply with that order, you ran."

The servant only paled further.

Fíli sighed and pulled up a seat beside the servant, ignoring the other's full body twitch when he sat down. "Imitation dragon scales. What are those things?" he repeated.

"They are made of leather but treated to look like dragon scales. It is not the leather that is the problem, but what they are shaped to look like." The servant swallowed. "Your Highness, with respect, how familiar are you with the custom of item exchanges in the Iron Hills?"

More familiar than he would have liked. "I know that Iron Hills dwarves are fond of sending tokens of affection," Fíli answered wryly instead.

"It is not just tokens of affection that get exchanged. Iron Hills Dwaves send all matters of items based on their symbolic values. Diamond for strength and purity, amethyst for health, iron for protection."

Fíli has a bad feeling about where this conversation was going. "And what do dragon scales symbolize?"

The servant sighed heavily. "Misfortune, calamity, sickness."

"What?" Fíli cried out, alarmed. "You mean to tell me that someone is making threats to Thorin?"

The servant nodded in misery. "Aye. More than just one individual, and it has been occurring since the banquet. The basket that I was holding, it contained all the packets I was asked to deliver to Lord Thorin today but I, I could not. I would not." The servant balled up his fists in his lap. "I was about to cast them into a fire, but I wanted to make sure I did not miss any packets first, and I know some Dwarves tend to prefer delivering their packets to the Lord themselves…"

"Which was why you went back to Thorin's room. That was also why you sounded so startled when you saw me fiddling with the packet by the door until I explained that I had found it there," Fíli said, his voice tight.

Cousin Thorin has been receiving death threats since the banquet. It does not take much mental acuity to realize what triggered the onslaught of hate.

Fíli scowled. Of course, his cousin would hide it from Fíli in his noble attempt to protect him. But more than anything, Fíli was just so utterly disappointed with himself for never noticing that anything was wrong. Had he been so wrapped up with his own problems and misery that he did not even realize that Cousin Thorin was suffering? Not only that, but had he never realized that Cousin Thorin was suffering because he had made himself a target to protect him in the first place?

And all that time, Cousin Thorin had acted perfectly content. His jovial mask never slipped, not even once, in front of Fíli.

Fíli cannot stand for it. He will not stand for it. He may have been blind before, but he refused to remain blissfully ignorant. He owed it to Cousin Thorin.

"I need you to tell me everything," Fíli said to the servant with conviction. "I want to know the extent that Cousin Thorin has been threatened. Please," he added when the servant looked hesitant. "I know Thorin told you to keep all this a secret from me, but I cannot in good conscience do nothing. I wish to protect him from harm. Will you help me?"

The determined little nod he got back felt like a minor victory. It was not much, but it was a start.

Fíli found himself meandering in the gardens as he pondered back on what Cousin Thorin's servant had said. The day was blessedly sunny with hardly any clouds in the sky – a rarity for Erebor and a perfect day to go venturing beyond the city walls. Not like Fíli was in the mood to do so.

To say that the rest of the conversation was enlightening would be an understatement.

"They say Lord Thorin betrayed his own after the banquet."

"What? For defending me?"

"No. There is a general understanding that the Dwarves who have lunged at Your Highness have acted in a way that was unbecoming of nobility, with the exception of a few riffraffs who disliked Lord Thorin for interfering."

"Then how has Lord Thorin betrayed anybody?"

"It was afterwards, during the expulsion. There are grumblings that those who were expelled from Erebor included Dwarves who were not part of the fray who had lunged at Your Highness."

A pause.

"There are rumors that Lord Thorin was responsible for that, that he had used his close relationship with the King to influence who got to remain in Erebor."

"What? Why would Cousin Thorin do that?"

"To eliminate the competition in an underhanded manner, so that no other suitors for Your Highness remained."

Fíli idly kicked a piece of loose pebble from the path and watched it skitter a few feet away. It should not be surprising that other Dwarves think that Cousin Thorin was looking to court him. Despite their rocky start, he and his cousin have been getting along swimmingly, to even Fíli's surprise.

And yet, Cousin Thorin had not made any moves despite his teasing, but Fíli has a feeling that the teasing has more to do with Cousin Thorin being…Cousin Thorin rather than him actually showing any interest.

Fíli shook his head. This was stupid. All this musing and speculating would lead to nothing unless he had the truth in front of him, and what better way to obtain the truth then directly from the source? He had learned his lesson on how damaging miscommunication can be from his recent fiasco with Kíli. He should just talk to Cousin Thorin directly and be done with it.

Right. Talk to Cousin Thorin. He could do that.

With his mind made up, Fíli squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. Good. Now, to find his cousin.

His courage stayed with him throughout his march out of the garden and towards the guest wing, but it started to fade with every step closer to Cousin Thorin's room.

Just talk. It would only be a talk.

He could do this. He needed to do this. Especially in light of the servant's parting words to him when they had finished their discussion.

"Lord Thorin can use all the allies he can get, Your Highness. He is shrewd in the ways of his kinsmen's intentions and he is good enough of an actor to hide his weaknesses, but he is young, and…we worry about him sometimes."

He almost made it to where his cousin's guest room was located when he heard voices. A flurry of angry ones. Quickly, he ducked behind a nearby pillar.

"-To think that you would turn your back on us like this!"

"What, did you believe that you would not be able to win in a fair competition? Is that why you had to opt for such underhanded tactics?"

"I do not know what you are accusing me of this time," came Thorin's familiar voice, smooth and a little haughty. "Unless, you are rehashing old complaints. Need I remind you that you have yet to provide evidence in support of your accusations? One would imagine that nobles such as yourselves would be more careful with your words."

"Do not paint yourself as the victim here! Everybody knows that you are a snake in the grass, Thorin," a new voice hissed out. "What poison have you whispered into the King's ear to have him remove Northri? Bruni? They were innocent!"

"More importantly, what have Northri and Bruni done to deserve the ire of the great Lord Thorin," another voice sounded out in a sneering tone.

"I have not whispered anything to King Thorin's ear. I did not need to. The king has eyes," drawled Thorin. "Had they been truly innocent, then King Thorin would not have seen fit to remove them from Erebor. They have no one but themselves to blame."

"You – "

"You are a liar and a cheat – "

" – have you no honour?"

"Aye, he has no honour," said another voice menacingly, and to Fíli's alarm, to the sound of scraping metal pulled out of a scabbard. "and no Lord Dáin to defend him either."

Fíli has heard enough. He leapt out from behind the pillar, drawing twin swords from his belt, and bolted towards the group of four Dwarves who had his cousin surrounded.

"Guards!" he bellowed out.

At the sound of his command, the Dwarves collectively jolted and spun around. "It's the Lion of Erebor," one of them whimpered, paling at the sight of him with his blades out.

It took less than a minute to subdue the situation. He swung his right sword at the nearest Dwarf, ignoring the squeak of fear he uttered as he fumbled to bring his dagger up for a weak parry. With his left, Fíli brought his sword up against the Dwarf's neck.

"Yield," he ordered with steel.

Guards swarmed the premise just as four sets of knives clattered to the floor. The Dwarves in front of him were immediately pushed to the ground by the guards with their hands crossed behind their backs. Only when they were secured did Fíli deigned to sheath his blades and to spare his cousin a glance.

"Are you alright?" he asked amidst the cries for mercy amongst the Dwarves.

Cousin Thorin looked a little worse for wear; although his hair was perfectly braided, and he was dressed as impeccably as always, his eyes were wide and panicked, and his lips were pressed in a pale, thin line.

"Thorin," Fíli reached out, worried, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

That seemed to have jolted some life back into Thorin. "I am fine, Cousin," he said, his voice cracking a little. He cleared his throat. "I am fine," he repeated with more strength.

After a beat of silence, he added quietly, "There is no need for this. This was all just a misunderstanding. Let them go."

"A misunderstanding?" Fíli cried out in disbelief. "They pulled their knives on you! On a member of the royal family." He glared down at the cowering Dwarves and spat out, "This is an act of treason punishable by death. I will see these criminals hanged for what they have attempted to do to you."

The cries of mercy began anew.

"Cousin, that is unnecessary. They have learned their lesson."

Fíli refused to let up his glare. The Dwarves may seem like they were sorry now that they have been caught, but who could say what vile lies they would continue to spread upon their release? What would stop them from amassing more Dwarves on their side? Cousin Thorin would only continue to be a constant target for their hateful vitriol.

Fíli would not allow it.

"Fíli, please."

Fíli blinked.

His cousin has reached out to clasp his hand over the one Fíli has kept on his shoulder, his expression imploring.

But despite his earlier nerves, despite the verbal and physical threats against him, his hand over Fíli's was warm and steady.

Cousin Thorin may have been startled, but he was not frightened.

Something in Fíli's chest loosened at that realization.

"I think this is the first time I have heard you call me by my name without any added titles," Fíli noted wryly, but he gestured his guards to release the Dwarves, who began to thank him profusely as they slowly got back up. "What happened to your obsession with courtly manners?"

"Desperate times calls for desperate measures," Cousin Thorin said with a tired smile. "My obsession can be very understanding. Now, please. Let them go. I am fine, as you can see." He gave Fíli's hand a reassuring squeeze.

Fíli bit back a huff of relief and turned back to the Dwarves, shuttering his expression once again. "Let us be clear, this act of mercy is only granted because Cousin Thorin has asked it of me." He hardened his glare. "Should I find any of you near him, or if I catch you speaking ill of him again, I will not be so forgiving.

"And, that goes for any other Dwarves as well. Should they wish to threaten Cousin Thorin in any other way," he casually unsheathed one of his swords and twirled it in his hand, "they will have to go through me first. Now, get out of my sight."

"Cousin Fíli," Thorin said with something akin to deep-seated exasperation as they watched the Dwarves flee with their tail between their legs, "while I appreciate your timely aid, I am afraid that your…warning will stir up more misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding, how?"

At that, Thorin let loose a defeated, weary sigh. "You have effectively defended my honour in front of everyone and have declared your intention to act as my champion. What do you think the rumour mill will generate from this incident?"

[A/N] This fic refuses to die (I refuse to let this thing die). Slowly, we are progressing to last arc. Slowly. Heh. But we will get there! Thank you all for tuning in despite the long wait between updates. Your comments and kudos-es are phenomenal motivators for me to keep writing despite writer's block, RL, and all other shenanigans that come with fanfic writing. As always, I love to hear what you think.

Special thanks to the anonymous commenter whose recent review got me to pull myself up by my bootstraps and finish this chapter. This update is for you.