Chapter Text
Ori didn’t mind being the way he was. He couldn’t really imagine being any other way, or else he would no longer be himself. The only thing that mattered, Dori said sometimes, was to know his strength so he could fully use them, and his limits so that he could know when to stop.
Knowing his strength was easy. He could spend hours working on a drawing to make it perfect, he could write and write until his wrist was ready to fall off, and he had learned to use his slingshot so well that he could hit a fly in the dark (just the once, mind, but still). His sensitive sense of smell was really useful when it was Dori’s turn to cook and he’d forget something on the fire, too. These, and other things, were his strengths. He liked them. They were good things, and Ori was proud of himself for them.
He was less at ease with his limits. He so wished that he could be at ease around people… like Dori, who seemed to make friends with anyone, and was capable of chatting about everything, if only a little. He also wished loud noises or even simple conversations didn’t tire him so much, and that he was less picky with his food… and with his clothes, come to think of it. Jumpers were nice and comfortable, but they weren’t terribly attractive, and Ori did dream of being found handsome, some day. Handsomeness seemed such a capital element in finding love, at least from what he’d heard and seen. But any nicer clothes he had were uncomfortable and itchy, and so jumpers had to do. These were his limits. He didn’t like them, and he wished he didn’t have them.
He wished…
He wished he were better with people, and braver, and handsomer.
He wished…
He wished he were more like Fili .
Fili was perfect, or as close to perfection as any dwarf could ever be.
Fili was strong and graceful and clever, he was painfully handsome, he always had a smile for everyone, he didn’t speak much but always found the right thing to say when he did… Fili was amazing and Ori would have given anything to be more like him. To be someone who didn’t make a mess every time he talk to people, and could talk to them for more than five minutes before needing some time alone to recover… someone who could look at others in the eyes, and not panic.
He wanted to be like Fili.
Or to befriend him.
Or to kiss him, depending on the days.
Any sort of close proximity would have done the trick, really, but Ori knew better than to hope. Fili was a prince, a future king, and Ori was…
Well.
He was Ori.
With his books and his big jumpers and his words that got stuck in his throat when he tried to speak out loud.
Hardly something that could ever catch the eye of someone as perfect as Fili.
Fili’s only defect, as it were, was probably his sister Kili. And even there, defect was a pretty strong word. There was nothing wrong as such with the princess. She was a lively, energetic girl, always ready to laugh and joke and have fun, and sometimes Ori envied her too, for how easily she chatted with others. But she was a silly young thing (older than Ori, but still) and she almost always brought attention to herself by saying very funny things, or rude ones at times… but she was smiling so much and being so relaxed about it all that no one seemed to really mind. Even Fili didn’t seem angry at her, not even when she did these silly things as he was trying to talk to people and it took the attention from him… Ori admired him for this too. He was certain he’d have been angry if this happened while he was talking.
But then, maybe it was just impossible to be angry at Kili. She did have such a warm smile after all.
Ori did not have many occasions to be near the royal siblings, of course. He was a scribe and they were royalty. And more importantly, he tended to stay home where it was safe and quiet, and where the siblings had little enough reason to come. He knew that sometimes, Dori went to parties where Fili and Kili were, but he was usually excused from going.
Usually, but not always.
Lord Balin, for whom Ori had worked a little over the past summer, had organised a party to celebrate something, and he had gone out of his way to invite Ori and his brother. Ori had tried to make an argument that it had just been out of politeness, and probably a ploy to get Dori to come. But his brother had insisted that it would be good for him to try sometimes to be around people.
“Maybe you’ll meet nice people,” their mother agreed. “You should try to make friends, sweetie. It’d be good for you.”
Ori had shrugged, because it wasn’t as if he’d never tried. He wanted friends. He wanted to have fun with people like everyone else did, but he always ended up doing something wrong and being cast away. It wasn’t fun for anyone involved, and Ori would rather have just given up on the whole thing. But if mother ordered it, there was no way around it.
As soon as Dori and him stepped inside Lord Balin’s house, Ori knew this would be a chore. There were so many people chattering everywhere, loudly, and there was music, and fancy food with a smell that slapped his nose over and over. And Dori, who had promised to stay by his side the entire time, was soon captured by Balin who wanted to introduce him to some friends. Ori was alone in front of all this. He was alone, and he had to make himself even more alone if he wanted to survive the night.
Thankfully, Balin’s house was big, and it was easy to find a small, quiet, dark corner where to hide. It was easy to curl up on himself against the wall until he calmed down. Beside, he was close enough to the actual party to hear voices, and when Dori would start looking for him, he would easily know it. It even became a game, once he was no longer panicked by all the sensations. Having nothing better to do, Ori listened, and tried to recognise voices, and once he recognised them he would attempt to understand what they said. It was not the game of the century, but it was better than nothing… and it was how he realised that the royal siblings had been invited too.
He wondered briefly if it should have worried him that he could so easily recognise Fili’s calm and controlled voice, or Kili’s merry chatter. He soon pushed away the thought, and instead listened more attentively.
At first, it was mostly Fili speaking, and though Ori couldn’t hear the full conversation, it seemed to be about some serious matter. The prince managed to laugh about it sometimes, but even his laugh was under control. Another thing Ori envied him: when he laughed, he just didn’t know how to stop… and just as he thought that, Kili’s loud laugh rang, almost as uncontrollable as his own. She also started talking a lot more after that, not leaving any space for her brother, but no one called her out on it.
The perks of being a princess with a beautiful smile.
After a few minutes, Fili started talking again, and for a while, Kili fell silent. It did not last though. Before long, she started chatting again, louder than earlier. And then, as if she felt she’d not made herself the center of attention enough, she grabbed her brother, shouted she wanted to show him something, and dragged him away from the party.
And toward Ori’s hiding place.
Ori curled up tighter in his dark corner, terrified he might be discovered and accused of spying or worse… he almost panicked when the siblings stopped across from him, but they were thankfully too distracted to notice him.
Kili, who had been laughing pretty loud, stopped entirely the instant her brother and her felt alone, but it was Fili who interested Ori the most. The prince, who was usually standing straight and in perfect control of his every movement, was almost staggering, half leaning on his sister. When they arrived at Ori’s level, Fili pushed Kili away and sat down, almost falling to the ground. That was strange, because everyone knew that the prince hardly drank at all, and never to the point of being drunk.
“I’ll get your some water and something to eat,” Kili announced. “Don’t move from here, okay? I’ll be back in a second, don’t move.”
Her brother ignored her entirely, but the princess didn’t seem unfazed by this and she went back running to the party. When she was gone, Fili curled up on himself and started rocking slightly back and forth. That was strange, once again, but it wasn’t until the prince started clawing at his left wrist that Ori got it.
It was a gesture he’d too often seen on Nori, that Dori had taken too many years to erase from Ori’s own list of habits, taking pains to replace it with something where he didn’t harm himself...
Fili was like him.
Fili, brave Fili who spoke so well in public and was always so perfect in everything he did, Fili was like Ori.
Ori’s fingers clenched on his scarf as he watched the prince try to regain his calm. He’d always known there were other dwarves like him, he’d found them reading, and talking with his mother’s friend Oin who was a healer… and the fact that Nori was like this too had been another proof. But he’d never have expected someone like Fili to be like them.
Like him but not quite, because while Fili was clearly much better around people, he’d not learned there were other ways than pain to regain control.
Normally Ori would never have dared to go near the prince, let alone give him advice, but he couldn’t bear to see him in that state, not when he’d been there before and could try to help. So before he could stop himself, the scribe uncurled himself, stood up, and removed his scarf from his neck to put it on Fili’s shoulders.
The prince’s startled, and tensed up, but he didn’t look up, as if he were frozen. Ori knew that feeling, too. And at any other time, with any other person, he’d have ran away to beg Dori to take him home, but he couldn’t bear to think of Fili in pain like this.
“It’s better at clawing,” he tried to explain. “The wool feels nice and soft and it’s relaxing and, and, and…”
Ori forced himself to stop, and bit his lips. He wished Fili would have looked up at him, so he could have used Iglishmek. It was always so much easier to talk with his hands than with his voice, but since this wasn’t an option, he took a deep breath and tried again.”
“When things become too much, I rub my scarf against my hands or my face and it helps, and… and if you don’t like wool use something else, but clawing’s bad. Anything that hurt’s bad.”
“Feels good,” Fili grunted, digging his nails into his wrist so hard that his knuckles went white.
“Touching nice things feels better and it doesn’t leave a mark. Try it.”
The prince’s hand clenched harder, and then relaxed.
“How do you know that?”
“I used to bite my forearms, and then I clawed at them, and then I pulled on my hair, and then I switched to the scarf and it’s better.”
Fili looked up at last, glancing a few times at his face and frowning. He was still rocking, and a little harder now, but he finally stopped clawing his wrist. Looking away from Ori, he brought his right hand to the scarf, caressing it hesitantly. Ori stepped back and looked away too, in an attempt to give him some privacy. He knew how intense a good sensation could get.
“It works I think,” Fili mumbled, sounding surprised.
Ori grinned, and nodded fervently. He was about to let the prince all the things he did or knew off to calm oneself, but approaching footstep stopped him. Kili soon appeared, carrying a mug in one hand, and holding a tray with food on the other. She was smiling, until she saw Ori and glared at him. It made her look almost as scary as her uncle, and Ori panicked. There were probably rules against talking to a prince the way he just had. He probably wasn't allowed to give an old, home-made scarf to someone who was royalty, to a future king, and to chat with him about coping mechanism as if they'd known each other their whole life. Certainly he'd meant well, he'd only wanted to help, but he had probably messed up and done something bad. He always did when he was allowed around people.
And so, terrified by the princess's glare, Ori did the only possible thing : he ran away.
Dori, thankfully, didn't ask any questions when his little brother begged him to go home. If anything, he seemed pleasantly surprised to have had this much time to chat with lord Balin and his friends. He praised Ori for doing so well, but his brother didn't hear it. He just wanted to be home, grab something soft, and forget that once again, he'd messed up everything.
The only thing that did calm him down a little, as they walk home, was the absolute certainty that the royal siblings had no idea who he was, and that he would never see them again.