♔ || ❝You were cold as the blood through your bones.❞ — vitrixlic The decision to open the gates of Erebor to any who wish to come pay homage to the King Under The Mountain had been made by Dáin who saw it as a way to show that there was still strength in the Line of Durin. Fíli didn't feel strong at all, he felt weak and stretched too thin. Dwalin opposed it at every turn, seeing it as a way to leave their King vulnerable to an attack. "His wounds haven't yet healed, cousin." He growled, slamming his fist down on the table. Fíli's shoulder twinged with pain at the mention of the still raw wound, the one he'd taken in defense of Thorin's life. "Stop.." He croaked, his voice wrought with a emotion, still they continued to fight amongst themselves. "I said stop!" He cried, trembling from the exertion. This outburst gets their attention and forced it on their golden King."We should not be fighting amongst ourselves. If Dáin says open the gates, open them!" "Fíli —," The blond cut Dwalin off before he could finish his sentence and shook his golden head, "Let it be, Dwalin, open the gates, let them come. I trust you to protect me." Dwalin gave his King a nod before rising to his feet. "As you wish, my King." He murmurs, giving Fíli's uninjured shoulder a gentle pat before leaving. "This is the right thing to do, Fíli. You mustn't seem weak." Fíli waves a hand dismissively, sighing quietly "I understand, Dáin, I understand that they think you'd have made a better King than me, and honestly, I agree with them." Balin shakes his head, brow furrowing. "Do not say such things, Fíli, Thorin would've wanted you to take the throne. He chose you, not Dáin. You must lead us in his place. You will be a great King. You will make your uncle proud." Fíli's face twists in pain at the mention of his uncle. "I know, Balin, I know. I would've rathered seeing him up here, not me. I never wanted this, I am not ready." Dáin rose to his feet and clapped his hands together. "Come, enough of such sad talk. We must prepare for what's to come." Fíli rose next to him, a crown of silver and rubies atop his flaxen hair. "Are you ready, Fíli?" Balin spoke softly, concern written in the lines of his face. "I am ready as I'll ever be, Balin. Let us go." They all files from the room in a line, Fíli at the head leading them up to the great throne of Erebor. He strode up the steps leading to his throne and stood upon the dais for a moment, steel blue eyes surveying everything going on around him before he settles himself on his throne, hands grasping the armrests on either side of him. "Open the gates." He calls out, voice loud and clearing, echoing in the great halls.
