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A/N: Hello everyone! So I decided to post a chapter for you as there's been hardly any stories updated over the last couple of days, only then did I remember when proof reading this that the San Diego Comic-Con is currently on and all you lucky buggars in the States are probably there. CURSE YOU ALL! Stuck in NZ and I can't go! I hope you guys had an amazing time. So between homework and school I've been diligently working on the story. You know how you write a chapter, then re-read it a few days later and think 'this doesn't fit into blahs personality', then decide to re-write it to try and make it sound better, only to go back a week later and go 'what was I thinking?! This is so off the mark!' FOUR TIMES! Four flaming times I've re-written the next chapter as I just haven't been satisfied with it, but I'm happy with the way it's written now and the character reactions, so hopefully I'll have it completed soon and coming your way.
See PJ, I can give a chapter so where's the damn trailer?!
Anyway special thanks to MissSilverspoon, Nori_getashovel (vlh114), marigoldfaucet, MeanKittyArchimedes, WytchDr, madb94, Astaraiche, cybersuzy, and qwikshot16 and the 22 guest who've commented or Kudosed, you guys are awesome!
As much as it breaks my heart I do not own the writings or the characters of The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings, they are the wonderful and exclusive workings of J.R.R Tolkien
Dís stood and took a deep breath, allowing a mask of calm to overtake her features as she looked to the part of the Healing House she knew held her son. She couldn’t let her grief overcome her, not now, not when her youngest (and now only) would be suffering a whirlwind of emotions as he struggled to come to terms with this new reality.
Her heart clenched in pain as she walked inside, her mind flooded with memories of when her older brother had Frerin died and how both she and Thorin had reacted, their reactions the complete opposite of the other; hers yelling, screaming and tears whilst Thorin’s was to shut down, barely function or acknowledge his surroundings. Reactions so different yet so similar with the belief their world would never heal; but they had, surprisingly, slowly recovered over time.
But what would it be like for Kíli?
She had always considered herself to have had a close relationship with her brothers, but now she was beginning to understand that it had nothing on what he and Fíli had. If she’d thought back then that she’d never recover, she couldn’t bear to think what Kíli would be like when he found out just what he had lost.
Numbness overtook her limbs as she walked towards her son’s room; she needed him, needed the comfort she knew just being near him could bring. She would do whatever it took to protect him, consequences be damned, but she refused to lose him and shuddered at the thought of her little raven looking so pale and small in that big bed, so unnaturally still.
‘Oh Kíli’, she thought sadly, ‘I would give anything to spare you the grief you will go through my love.’
When they arrived at Kíli’s room they found his door shut but could hear talking inside. Dís looked at Thorin, who had stayed close behind her silently with a worried frown, Kíli had been deeply unconscious when she left her son’s side not too long ago, so who would be talking in there now? Before she could say anything the door opened and Oin walked out, a look of relief on his face when he spotted the pair.
“His fever is making him sweat out the poppy milk too quickly,” Oin said in way of greeting. “I had hoped he’d stay under longer to get some rest but the lad has always been stubborn at the best of times. I was actually about to come get you as he’s starting to struggle and if he keeps it up he’s in danger of pulling his stitches and bleeding to death. He -”
There was a yell causing all three of them to look at his door in alarm before Oin wrenched it open and dashed inside, Dís and Thorin close behind.
At the bed two healers were trying to pin Kíli’s flailing arms down whilst a third was attempting to give him something to drink, but Kíli kept turning his head away every time the healer came near.
“This is ridiculous!” The healer with the cup yelled in frustration after Kíli head-butted the cup out of his hands. “Master Kíli, you need the poppy milk!”
“I n-need my b-brother!” He cried back weakly with renewed struggles, panting as the pain made his vision white out momentarily.
Thorin carefully placed the bundle he’d taken back from Dís onto a chair and raced over, he and sister taking over from the healers to try and calm the panicking dwarf.
“Although his struggles indicate otherwise, he's not fully coherent,” one of the healers told him quietly.
“Understood.”
Upon hearing his Uncle’s voice Kíli's eyes snapped open and darted around unseeingly. “Uncle,” he whimpered, face contorting in pain as the stitches in his stomach pulled again. “Uncle?”
“Shhh, Kíli,” Dís soothed, her voice wavering as she ran a hand over he son’s burning forehead. It killed her seeing him like this; injured and afraid - not knowing what was going on. “You need to relax or you’re going to hurt yourself even more.”
“Mama, where's Fee?” He asked weakly, blinking rapidly to try and clear his vision so he could bring into focus the two blurry shapes above him.
“He’s... He’s not here right now Kíli,” Thorin answered quietly. He had almost revealed Fíli's fate then and there, but the look of terror that had appeared in Kíli's hazed eyes when he paused, he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not yet.
Kíli’s whirling mind tried to grasp onto what his Uncle had just said. Something wasn't right; Fíli wouldn’t just be absent when he was injured and in pain. Fíli had never left him when he needed him the most. The pain in his stomach brought back memories of how the injuries happened, but at the forefront of his mind was seeing his golden brother disappear under a sea of grey and black bodies.
That moment the healer returned with another cup of poppy milk. “You need to drink this,” he said firmly as he pushed the cup against Kíli's lips.
Kíli may have been injured, but his fight hadn't lessened any; in fact it had just engulfed every corner of his mind in his desperation to get to his brother. He realised Fíli wasn’t there for him because he had to be lying in another room, needing Kíli but unable to get to him. He yanked his arm free from Thorin’s slackened grip and slammed his injured arm into the cup with a feral snarl, sending it crashing to the floor.
“Fíli!” He cried out. “FÍLI! I’m - get off me! I’m coming!” He yelled, struggling desperately to free himself from his mother’s and Uncle’s hold.
“Kíli! Please stop!” Dís begged hysterically, trying to hold her son’s flailing limbs. “Stop moving!”
“Kíli-” Thorin let out a grunt as one of his nephews fists connected with the side of his face.
“I WANT FÍLI!” Kíli cried as the echoes of clashing swords rang in his ears. “WHERE IS MY BROTHER?!”
“Kíli! Stop moving! You’re going to hurt yourself more!” Thorin yelled, contemplating lying across his nephew to pin him down. But his comment didn't deter his nephew, if anything it made him struggle more. Dís was barely holding it together and he wasn’t sure how much longer Kíli’s stitches would hold out.
“I WANT MY BROTHER!”
“Stop moving!”
“WHERE IS HE?!”
“HE’S DEAD!”
The room instantly went still, only the merrily crackling fire and the heavy panting from both Thorin and Kíli could be heard. Thorin stared down at his frozen nephew. Wide, horrified brown eyes framed by a pale face looked back at him, as though they were waiting for a smile, a chuckle, something to tell him that it was only a joke.
He swallowed, lowering his voice until it was but a murmur. “Kíli...”
His name is what broke him out of his shock. He started trembling, his eyes filling with tears and bottom lip quivering as he shook his head. “No,” he whimpered. “No, you’re lying!”
Thorin grabbed Kíli’s face lightly. “I’m so sorry Kíli, I wish I was. He...” He broke off with a sob, unable to finish his sentence.
“He’s not dead! HE WOULDN’T LEAVE ME!” Kíli screamed back, the mere thought of Fíli no longer existing too horrendous to even contemplate.
He stroked a thumb over his cheek, turning his head so they were looking at each other once more, if only to show Kíli how desperate he was for him to believe him. “We got to your camp Kíli, it was… a bloodbath. There was nothing left of him except for his braids and swords. I’m so sorry Kíli but there’s... There’s nothing left. He’s gone.”
“DON’T LIE TO ME!” Kíli screamed. He punched out at Thorin, collecting him in the eye sending him reeling from the bed in surprise and tore his arm from his mother’s grasp. He sat up quickly; crying in pain as some of the stitches finally tore from the sudden movement and threw himself off the bed onto his knees.
Thorin recovered quickly and threw himself at the young dwarf to stop him crawling away and making his injuries worse. He grabbed him around his chest and pulled him flush against him, narrowly avoiding the head that was slammed backwards in the fight for freedom. He wrapped one of his arms around the squirming dwarf so he could pin Kíli's forearms to his sides, and tried to use his other hand to hold his head against his shoulder.
Kíli squirmed and hissed and spat like a trapped animal, wanting to be rid of the prison he’d been caught in. When he realised he couldn’t get free he did the only thing he could do, he screamed and howled at the agony in his heart, cursing Mahal and Aüle and every other higher being out there for taking his brother from him, the one person who was meant to stay by his side forever.
Dís fell to her knees beside her family, sobbing uncontrollably as the tears flowed freely down her face. She tried to lay her hand on her screaming son’s head but pulled back quickly when he jerked his head backwards once more. “Kíli please!” She sobbed, “Sweet heart… please...”
It was in this moment that Oin appeared with the third cup for the evening. “Hold his head Thorin.” the healer instructed calmly as he crouched at Thorin’s side.
Thorin nodded and trapped Kíli's head in the crook of his neck with his palm, tightening his hold to keep him in place. He placed his temple against the top of the brown hair and squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that were threatening to spill free, cursing himself for having to hold his grieving nephew down even if it was for the best.
He watched through watery eyes as Oin used Iglishmêk to communicate with Dís where Kíli couldn’t see before he moved forward and gripped Kíli’s jaw, squeezing it so his mouth opened and placed the cup against his lips before pouring the liquid into his mouth. Before Kíli could spit it back out Dís, as instructed, quickly clamped a trembling hand across his mouth and used her other hand to pinch his nose closed. All three dwarves cringed at the look of betrayal in Kíli’s eyes before they eventually saw his throat bob as he swallowed. Dís withdrew her hands quickly, tears pouring down her face as she quietly begged her child for forgiveness for what they were doing. They all knew it was for the best, but that didn’t make it any easier.
The moment his mouth and nose were freed Kíli gasped in the oxygen that had been denied to him before he started screaming again, his lungs beginning to protest as he struggled to breathe. The weight of his Uncle’s arm, the pain in his heart, the knowledge that not only would he never see his brother again, that he couldn’t even see him, for there was nothing for him to beat his fist upon, allow tears to fall onto, or to whisper final prayers and pleading to have him returned made it feel as though the entire world was crashing upon him, and that he was being left to stand upon a desolate plain on his own.
Slowly the poppy milk began to work its magic, and Kíli’s screams began to die down to whimpers and choked sobs as Oin poured the last of the liquid into his mouth, Kíli not even bothering to try and spit it back up. Thorin continued to rock him gently, making soothing noises in his nephew’s ear as he buried his face in the long hair, not wanting the others to see him crying. Eventually even the whimpers stopped as the injured prince finally succumbed to unconsciousness once more.
His brother’s name was the last thing he whimpered before he went limp in Thorin’s arms.
“Alright,” Oin sighed as he began checking Kíli’s stomach wound. “I added some valerian root to the poppy milk which will definitely keep him under for good while. It’s more durable than the poppy milk, harder to sweat out. Now from what I can see I think it’s only the outside stitches that he’s reopened, so let’s get him back onto the bed so I can fix him up.”
Thorin took a deep breath before he nodded and lifted his eyes from the dark locks which were now damp from his tears. With Oin holding the now limp Kíli he extracted himself and picked up his nephew before carrying him over to the bed laying Kíli down gently onto the soft mattress.
Placing a kiss to his hair he put their foreheads together, the movement stirring memories of a time long passed when his barely walking nephew would do the same to him in greeting or in comfort. “I will always catch you Kíli, no matter how far you fall,” he whispered before taking a seat next to the bed, pulling his sister to him as she brought over another chair and hugged her fiercely, refusing to let her go until morn.