Heart of Erebor: You're A Mess, Kili

Thorin was not Balin. He did not have his old friend’s gift for words, and often used actions in their place. His family knew this well enough, and it was with that thought in mind that he strode forward, taking advantage of Kíli’s downcast gaze, for his nephew did not realize how close he was until it was too late, and Thorin had already extended his hand to finger the tangled locks framing the younger dwarf’s face.

"Your hair is a mess," he stated simply, in answer to the startled, almost wild glance his actions earned him. "Where is your clasp?"

"I…" Kíli frowned pensively, wrong-footed by the tame subject matter and searching for the right memories to provide the answer Thorin sought. Thorin saw clearly the moment when he found them, his eyes darkening and growing distant as he bit his lip. "Bolg took it from me."

"I see."

He remembered now how that same clasp had been tossed at his feet in jeering mockery as Bolg threatened to torment his youngest nephew before his eyes, but did not realize how condemning those two words sounded until Kíli’s face fell, the archer’s head ducking quickly to hide his pain. The clasp had been his mother’s, just as Fíli’s once belonged to Frerin. The third part of the set was Thorin’s own, though he no longer wore it in his hair. It was a cherished heirloom, and a grievous loss, but if Kíli thought he would blame him for having misplaced the relic then he had fallen far further in his sister-son’s eyes than he would have thought possible. Reaching out again, he gave the dark locks adorning the younger dwarf’s head a gentle tug, pulling Kíli from whatever thoughts he had retreated to examine.

"Turn around," he commanded gently.

Clearly confused, Kíli nonetheless acted on his ingrained instinct to obey his uncle’s commands, sitting rigidly still as Thorin worked the worst of the knots from his hair with practiced ease. He then proceeded to braid it, just a single plait down the back of Kíli’s head, before reaching for the cord that hung about his neck. How Bolg had not espied it and robbed him of it was a mystery, and one he was not of a mind to solve. Carefully working the clip free of its chain he placed it where his sister’s had once sat in her son’s hair. Kíli stiffened the moment he felt the extra weight, raising a hand to touch the clasp, before turning to look over his shoulder at his uncle with a look that was both tentatively hopeful and sharply wary.

"The emblem of the House of Thráin should be worn by his kin," Thorin answered his unspoken question. "I have never regretted a moment of my life more than that where I denied you your place as my sister-son. I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, Kíli, so I will not. Know only that I am sorry, that I would give every last coin in that accursed mountain for the chance to undo what has been done."

Sketched a scene from Amillionmilesofroad 's amazing Hobbit fanfic, The Heart of Erebor (found here: AO3 & FFNet).

You guys should read it. <3

This picture was a big pain in the ass for me to draw. XD;;; I spent FAR TOO LONG ON IT. XD;;; I still am not 100% pleased with Kili’s stupid face… I don’t think he looks very recognizable as Kili… BUT whatever. I TRIED;;; I intend to redraw the scene at some point. BUT FOR NOW, enjoy this. 8’>