Could you please do a fili lives au for the headcanon prompt? Thank you!
it’s cold, so cold that the mountain seems made of ice when they lay the two dead heirs of durin and a hobbit to rest in the crypts.
of all the deaths that weigh on him, bilbo baggins’ weighs on him most. it should’ve been me, he said to gandalf, afterwards. i should’ve been the one there on ravenhill. i should’ve been the one azog killed.
if it was anyone’s fault, it was mine, answered gandalf. i was the one who brought him on the accursed quest in the first place.
the condolences are endless, going on and on. but what is almost worse is the i was like you once he receives from the other kings.
i was crowned when i was thirty-two, and you are made of sterner stuff i was then, dáin tells him. fili does not tell him you were crowned lord and i am being crowned king of all of durin’s folk.
even the king thranduil approaches him. i became king young as well, (and fili could scoff at that, an elf’s definition of young, but he finds he has not the heart). your uncle and i had our differences, but he was a good dwarf. i have no doubt that you will be a greater one.
(he does not know what to make of that.)
the lonely mountain is cold, and stiff, and she is unyielding, a thing fili can never seem to understand. erebor is not home, home is the blue mountains— home is not this place his brother and his uncle died for, home is not this.
his mother arrives in the late spring, when the snow has started to melt and the flowers have begun to sprout. she is cold, and grieved, and she hugs him and they weep.
what was he like, toward the end, she asks him. i have heard rumours, but balin denies them. i trust you will tell me the truth.
he was mad, answers fili. utterly, utterly mad.
her jaw tenses. of course. she answers, of course. she pauses. do you think it was worth it? this mountain.
and fili looks at the flowers bursting from the ice, and the dwarflings playing in the early spring, and he says, perhaps.