Just a note, I originally never wanted to write a story about Kili and Fili dying. I thought if I ignored it, I could keep them alive in my head. (OK, in my imagination they and Thorin survived, and lived to a ripe old age.)

But then I started to look at peoples pictures of them dead on Devian art (especially creepy9's hearts of courage) and the story appeared in my head and I had to write it down. So here it is, but I will continue to live in la-la land, and say they survived the ordeal.

I do not own The Hobbit.

Kili shot another arrow at the goblins, and two fell down dead. He smiled grimly to himself. Fili was stabbing and cutting every goblin in sight with his dual swords. Kili shot more arrows, then shouted, "That's it! I'm completely out of arrows." He put away his bow, and pulled out his sword, then began to cut down the goblins like his brother.

Thorin noted that the brothers never strayed far from each others side. They might walk a foot or two away, but they would always return to each others side. They were always like that, Thorin noticed. Whether in battle or peace, they had always been together. Thorin's mouth thinned and he used Orcist to slash goblins like he was cutting water. In his other hand, was his battle-ax, and it cleaved through the wretched flesh of every goblin it touched.

Thorin frowned, his nephews insisted on fighting next to him in this battle. They fought side-by-side a few feet away from him. It made him feel old when they did it, like he was senile and could not protect himself. Thorin was a grown man, the king-under-mountain, he could watch his own back on his own.

He glanced at Kili and Fili who continued their assault on the nearby goblins. Thorin yelled at them, "Go! I do not need your assistance! Go and fight someplace else!" His words were harsh, even to his own ears.

But Kili grinned, and Fili laughed as they hollered, "Not a chance Uncle, You are our king and our mother's brother. We are honor bound to fight by your side!" Thorin opened his mouth to object, to say they should forget honor and leave him.

But that was when a goblin got in a lucky blow, and instead of speech, a shout of pain came out of his mouth. Kili and Fili cried out in anger. Kili said "Uncle!", and Fili said, "No!" As Thorin stumbled with his teeth gritted in pain, his nephews ran to his side to protect him.

Thorin frowned at then in frustration and pain, they did they not hear him. He tried again, "Go you fools! Go and fight other goblins, I have no need of you!" But his nephews refused to leave and yelled cheerfully back, "Never Uncle. We will not ever leave you!"

Thorin wished to tear out his hair and beard, he did not need this! But then, the horrible and unexpected happened. Thorin saw the goblin's arrow fly from its owner's bow. It shot through the air, and landed in Kili's chest with a thump. Several others followed ,and joined the one in his chest, and caused Kili to cry out in pain. Fili cried "Brother, please no!" Kili fell to his knees, then sat on his heels before falling. He twisted as he fell, so Thorin was forced to look down at his nephews pained face.

Just as horrible was what came next. Several arrows found Fili's body, and one landed in his throat causing him to gurgle. Kili gasped, "Brother, don't follow me!" Fili's legs collapsed under him, so his head lay nest to his brothers. They smiled weakly at each other, before they held each others hand.

Thorin fell to his knees, his legs wouldn't hold him any longer. He gathered his nephews into his arms. He opened his mouth, but no words could be forced out of his throat. His nephew's blood soaked into his armor and clothes as they smiled weakly at him. They each reached their hands that did not hold their brothers, and grasped his arms.

Kili spoke softly, "Sorry Uncle, it seems we lied. Were going now." Their faces were unimaginably pale as Fili gasped, "Don't follow us soon Uncle, we can wait to see you again." Thorin's throat unplugged, and he choked out, "No! Do not die, you must live!" But his nephews smiled at him one last time, and then lay still. Their hand slipped from his arms, and their eyes turned empty.

Thorin drew them close, and cried shamelessly. He remembered holding them when they were hours old and wailed so loudly. He remembered how he would hold them when they had nightmares as wee little dwarfs. How he told them stories of the wonder of their lost home. How he taught them how to braid their hair. How proud he was when he saw them learn to use weapons for the first time. He had bragged to every dwarf he saw that his nephews were going to be the best warriors Erebor had ever seen that day.

He remembered watching then grow their bears, even if Kili only had stubble so far. How they would drink with the rest of the dwarfs. He remembered the day he realized that they were not children anymore. He remembered how he promised his scared little sister, Dís, that he would protect her sons with his life.

But Thorin had grown distant from them, and kept them at arm's length. It was only now that he was dead, that he realized this. Thorin reluctantly put his dead nephews down, they where pale as snow, and turning cold.

Thorin picked up his battle-axe and Orcist, and killed the nearest goblin. He stood, and the grief turned anger and rage toward all goblins. He struck down goblin after goblin, and ignored his pained and tired body. Those arrows had been meant for him, but his nephews had taken them for him.

Thorin fixed on his face, a look of unforgiving hate and rage as he roared to the skies, "For Kili! For Fili! For my nephews!" He let loose a battle cry, and began killing every goblin he could reach. He forgot everything but the sound of Orcist and battle-ax. Then, there were no more foes, the battle was over.

Thorin fell to his knees. He wished Dís could forgive him for her son's death. Thorin could not save them. His eyes closed, and the grief returned. He regretted the last few words they heard him say, they were in anger and there was no meaning behind them at all. Thorin wished he could swallow the words, so they never existed in the first place. He wished he could have warned them in time to save their lives.

But mostly, he wished that he had held them more, told them that he loved them dearly. He wished he could hear their words, and see them smile at anything. He wished that he could have done so much more for them. But he could not do those things again. The time for kind words and gentle embraces had passed them all by, and it would never come to them again.

Wow, I cried a lot while writing this. Sometimes the keyboard would seem so blurry, that I had no choice to wipe my eyes!