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[rikfrorl]

Fili knew that it would come to this, one day. But that did not mean he was prepared for it--to bear a crown of dwarves is to feel the weight of the Mountain, and of the people he must see to. He was lucky enough to have Kili by his side, and many of the party that he had grown close to, in their travels to take back a home he had never known, but as stories in the tales of elders. He doubted that he would be half as good as he was now (which was not very good at all, in his esteem) without their care and guidance.

But with their help, Fili was assured that there would be no loss of Erebor, again, no. There would be no war, either, if Fili could help it--at least not between those who fought against the darkness that seemed to creep ever closer around them. Which meant that communication had to be made, maintained--so he sat himself up on the throne, trying his best not to shift uncomfortably. Ht was not a comfortable seat, and he felt it was too stark, too imposing. Even without the Arkenstone in place (which he had made sure had stayed in the tomb with Thorin--for it had never been a care to him), Fili did not like the feeling that he was above all, looking down with judgement.

That was not the King he wished to be, even if it was the King he had to be, at times.

And so he sat, and waited, crown upon golden hair, doing his best to look as Thorin wished him to. For if he tried hard enough, perhaps one day he would fill the shoes.