Summer Exchange: FiKi, G Rating, Teach Me to Ride
Fili learned to ride first, of course, on a round little goat more interested in dinner than running off. Kili was terribly upset, stuck as he was at his papa's side as Fili proudly trotted around the paddock, head held high.
"You have to wait until you're older," Papa said, running a fond hand over his braid.
Kili scowled, crossing his arms and glaring moodily at the paddock. "I'll never be older!" he argued. "Mama said I never get to be older than Fíli! I'll always be the baby!"
Papa laughed, which only made Kili sulk harder until Papa knelt in front of him. "You'll never be older than Fili," he agreed, "just like Mama will never be older than me. But!" he held his hand up, "one day you'll be thirteen years old," he paused and drew thirteen neat lines in the dirt, "and then you'll learn to ride your first goat as well."
Kili wasn't satisfied, but he knew better than to argue. He'd argued the "when you're older" rule a MILLION times, he was SURE, and they NEVER budged.
Fili always got to do EVERYTHING first.
Life was very, very unfair.
Five years later, Kili's mother placed him very carefully on the long-suffering old goat's back.
"Hold on," she warned gently, even as Fili's voice piped up with:
"Don't fall! It hurts your butt!" from his place on the other side of the paddock with Papa.
"I'm not gonna FALL!" Kili growled back, gripping the reins in his nervous little fingers.
Sitting on a goat's back was NOT like sitting on the ground! Not at all!
Not in front of FILI who had ridden a proper little pony just two days ago.
Kili dug in his heels (gently! Like Mama said!), and held on to the reins, and lifted his head, and made the soft little clucking noise he'd been practicing in secret ever since the day of Fili's first ride.
Ghosty the Goat took two steps forward.
Kili felt himself slip in the saddle
I can't fall off! he thought desperately, I can't land on my butt!
He tightened his knees, like Mama told Fili to do.
(Because he paid attention, even when they treated him like a baby who couldn't do anything fun ever.)
Ghosty the goat clopped forward three, four more steps, and Kili, a prince of Erebor, threw back his twin braids and kept his seat.
(No one had to know about all the butterflies in his tum, not when he was looking straight and handsome and Fili was clapping and Papa was whooping and Mama was saying, "Good job, my little raven!")
Kíli was going to be the greatest rider ever, except maybe for cousin Dain, who rode a warpig that was maybe a little too scary.
The boys were almost the same height when Uncle Thorin came home with a new pony, young and strong and "Well able to carry two dwarf lads about when needed."
It was the best present Fili and Kili had ever seen. She was a pretty red-brown with big white spots and two white feet like warm winter socks. They'd only ever ridden the old cart ponies used around the settlement, never one like this, young and bright eyed and bushy from the approaching winter weather!
Fili bounded forward, taking the bridle gently in his hand. "When can I ride him?" he asked breathlessly.
Thorin chuckled. "He's a good mount, I don't see why you can't ride him right away-"
Kili's voice was nice and clear, just like Balin told them to talk when they had something important to say.
Fili and Thorin turned as one. "Excuse me?" Thorin asked, and his eyebrows rose in a way that could me he thought this was funny or could mean he was about to get mad.
Uncle Thorin was hard to read.
But Kili refused to back down. "I want to ride first."
This was met, predictably enough, with a round of varied nos.
"You can't ride a new pony on your own!" Papa said. "You're too little."
Kili puffed his chest out. "I'm as big as Fili!" (this wasn't strictly true, he was ALMOST ALMOST as tall as Fili, but Fili was square and Kili was a skinny little stick of a dwarf, but he didn't say that).
"But you're not as old as he is," Mama said kindly. "Just let him see if she's a nice pony first-"
Kili scoffed. "Uncle Thorin wouldn't bring us a mean pony!"
Uncle Thorin smiled a little at this. "He has a point there, Dis."
Mama shot him one of her "mind your business" looks, but Uncle THorin didn't pay it any mind. He was looking Kili over thoughtfully. "You are tall aren't you?" he asked.
Fili's eyes widened. "But-" he sputtered, "but I'm the _oldest_!"
"He's not ready to ride alone-" Mama started, and Papa said, "Really, Thorin, a strong wind can knock the lad over-"
But Uncle Thorin smiled and said, "How about both of you ride together?"
Kili looked at Fili. Fili looked at Kili.
In one voice, they asked, "Do we HAVE to?"
"Yes," Thorin said, "I think you do."
It was better, Kíli figured mulishly, than having to ride second.
Thorin grabbed Fíli and started to lift him into the saddle.
“That’s not together!” Kíli yelped, stomping one foot in his brand new boot (well, brand new to him, it had belonged to Fíli, of course, first). Mama said if he didn’t stop growing he’d need a new set of boots every week.
Thorin stopped. “Ah,” he said. “That’s true. Dis, if you would?”
Mama shook her head, but she was smiling, and then she picked up Kíli and brother and sister carefully set the brothers in place, Fíli in front and Kíli in back.
Kíli huffed. “I can’t see.”
A hand petted his hair. “You’ll have to settle for the sides just now, little raven. Your brother has the reins.”
Kíli huffed and puffed, but tightened his knees and – cleverly! – chirruped before Fíli could, and the pony hopped forward into a joyful little trot.
It wasn’t so bad, Kíli decided, holding on tight because ponies were big and he was, really, only a little dwarf (though he was determined to be as big as Uncle Thorin or-no!- Mr. Dwalin some day!).
And at least Fíli smelled nice, and his hair was soft against Kíli’s cheek as he led their new pony around the paddock.
(In the end, Fíli offered to switch places with him and then KÍLI got to lead the pony, which was exciting and a tiny bit scary maybe, but the best part was when Fíli said that Kíli should name their pony since Fíli got to lead first, and that was awesome and Mama agreed and he didn’t care if Papa did laugh, Cinnamon was an excellent pony name.)
Years passed, and became decades, and Kíli grew up.
(Well, his body did anyway, or so his brother would tease before getting a solid kick to the rump.)
Fíli grew up too, if more in maturity than in height, and the boys learned to live in peace as they hunted, fished, and yes, rode together.
It was only with the utmost reluctance that Kíli finally admitted that Fíli’s calm energy worked well with ponies and rams alike, and that Kili liked to look around more than to look ahead. So with time, Kíli grew used to the warm presence of Fíli against his chest, Fíli’s hair tickling his jaw and lips, and the feel of Fíli’s waist under his arms as they rode on escort missions and hunting trips and supply runs. Extra ponies were better suited to pulling carts or hauling bags than to carrying one skinny dwarf.
So it felt almost strange, in the months leading up to the great quest, to ride his own new, strong pony, and watch Fíli on another. Thorin had made sure each member of his Company was well-prepared for the trip, and that meant everyone had a new pony, and the time to get used to riding (or learn to ride, as the majority of their number had dealt with cart ponies but never ridden one). Of course this included the young princes, pointedly outfitted with only the best.
Kíli wasn’t used to seeing the world without gold flecks in his eyes or steady breaths under his hands. He could ride fine, of course, and he got along well with his pony, but still-
So many things were changing, so fast. It’d be nice for something to stay the same.
Kíli lifted his head and met Fíli’s eyes. Fíli, regal in leather and fur, grinned at him.
“Race you home,” he called, and then he was off, his pony at a gallop before he hit the last syllable.
“Cheater!” Kíli growled, squeezing his heels minutely.
Fíli glanced over his shoulder, mouth curled into one of his best mischievous smirks. “I never cheat!” he called back, “The oldest always goes first!”
Kíli’s answer was a snarl, all tangled up with a laugh.
Some things never changed, and he liked it that way.
