They inherited it, Thorin told them, from some distant relative in their grandfather’s circle. Fíli was feeling less sure by the second that there was any truth behind the claim. The gravel crunched under the tires as he pulled to a stop in front of the wide stone staircase, its balustrade entirely consumed by falls of ivy and its steps weathered and cracked.
Beneath the dark, overcast sky, the house look transplanted from Bram Stoker’s Transylvania; like something out of a nightmare, left to rot with its secrets. The place was being cared for in the most casual sense: If a pipe burst, it was mended; if a tree branch shattered a window, it was replaced. Otherwise, the grounds were left untouched for what seemed to be more decades than Fíli had been alive.
“Jesus, we should’ve called a priest.” Kíli said, sounding very uncertain about being there. He sunk back into the passanger seat after leaning across Fíli for another moment, shaking his head in disbelief. “Are you sure this is the address?”
Fíli spared his brother a look that told Kíli exactly how Fíli felt about Kíli’s question.
“Of course it is,” Kíli sighed through his nose, “Because aren’t we lucky enough to inherit a fucking haunted house.”
“Manor.” Fíli corrected, distracted by the eerie façade.
There were black stains licked up around some of the windows and into the eaves; dead, brown vines spilling over either side of the balcony above that rustled like dead hair in the wind, framing the grand oak doors on either side as curtains. No light came from inside, natural or otherwise, as if Fíli was peering into the void of Hell itself.
A shudder overcame him from the toes up, clutching in his gut as he took it all in. The drive through town was enough to give him the creeps but now, being here, he felt ill. A squirmy, cold-wet feeling clawed up his spine the way it would when he’d been a child and saw a shadow flicker the wrong way in his room at night.
Fíli swallowed the dread that thickened in his throat like sludge.
“I think we should reconsider the inn in town.” Kíli uttered, clearly faring no better, his brow clammy and the whites of his eyes too big.
Fíli grabbed his brother’s hand and took a breath, clenching once to reassure Kíli that they were together, that nothing could hurt them. Besides, “It’s just a house, Kee.”
Kíli snatched Fíli’s gaze and held it fiercely, “Say it like you mean it and I’ll believe you.”
Unable to give the words shape on his tongue, Fíli simply clutched Kíli’s hand harder.
