Word Count: 481
Disclaimer: If I owned the hobbit no one would die
Summary: Kíli invents an umbrella but the colors clash
“No one told me there would be so much fucking rain,” Kíli grumbled, trying futilely to wring the water from his coat as he glared out of the cave mouth at the torrential downpour.
“Well no one told you there wouldn't be either,” His brother retorted from where he struggled to light their fire. “You're the one who was so keen to go on an adventure.”
“An adventure yes, but at this rate we'll all die of pneumonia before we ever get to the dragon. And our wizard isn't any help.” Kíli replied, glaring over at Gandalf who sat puffing away at his miraculously dry pipe.
“Stop complaining and come help me with this, will you? It's not like you're able to do anything about it so you'll just have to suck it up. You can't stop the rain, can you?”
“Sure I can,” Kíli groused under his breath though he did as his brother asked. However, Fíli's question stayed in the back of his mind and every time icy water dripped down the back of his neck the young dwarf became more determined to find a solution to the problem. While he was no wizard to control nature with the power of his mind, Kíli was a dwarf born to shape the world beneath his hands and he would not let anything stand in his way.
So over the next few weeks, Kíli scrounged through the others' packs and gathered materials along the road, working diligently through his watches in the night. His brother shot him inquiring glances from his seat by the fire but the dwarf refused to answer any questions, saying that he would see in time.
Thus, it was only once the sky opened up once again that Fíli's curiosity was finally sated and he saw the fruits of his brother's labor. While everyone else scrambled around frantically to cover their gear, Kíli calmly removed a contraption of wood and cloth from his pack and pointed it toward the sky. He unfurled it in a splash of color and slowly everything came to a halt as the rest of the company stopped and gaped at the young dwarf instead.
“What is that?” Bilbo asked hesitantly, voicing the question on everyone's mind, but Kíli just smiled serenely in response.
Above his head arched a stiff wooden frame covered over with scraps of cloth that were sewn together in a riot of competing colors. There were bits from everyone's spare outfits: Bofur's blue sock here, Bilbo's yellow waistcoat there, red and purple from Ori's polka dots and brown from Dwalin's stripes.
Yet although the piece was an eyesore of utmost proportions, Fíli could not deny that it worked and Kíli grinned at him smugly from his circle of dry ground. “See brother, I told you that I would stop the rain.”