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“You can’t have it all.”
Kili didn’t believe it. Why shouldn’t they get to have it all? They won back Erebor, dead dragon and all, after all. They should get to have it all.
And if they weren’t given it, they would just have to fight for it.
He knew Fili didn’t quite believe there was a way, too accustomed to Thorin’s stubbornness, to politics and the needs of the many.
But he didn’t stop Kili. Never did. Fili had never been anything but supportive, even if everyone else just laughed. Maybe that’s how this started. Or maybe they really were hewn from one stone, meant to be one, like the stories of old said.
Kili didn’t know how much he believed the old tales, but he believed in them. Believed in their love, believed that they were better together than apart, believed that he would never love someone as deeply or truly as he loved Fili. And he knew Fili felt the same.
He wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble to set this up if he wasn’t absolutely certain of it.
The ceiling wasn’t high and domed, and the room not as grandiose as it was supposed to be. The acoustics were none existent, keeping their voices between themselves instead of echoing it over thousands as was their due.
But it would do.
Candles instead of roaring fires, self hunted furs and food instead of banquets and luxury and everything a ceremony of this magnitude deserved.
But it had them, and that was enough.
That was all they would ever need.
They drank from the same cup, bound their hands together over the candles, and made love on the ground, only the furs and each other’s body keeping them warm.
They bound themselves together, body, heart and soul, in the way of the dwarves of old.
Maybe they couldn’t have a grand ceremony, maybe they had to be secretive, maybe they couldn’t have everything they could ever want.
But they could, and would, have this.
And that was all they needed.