Disclaimer: Well you know. I don't own the characters or anything, everything belongs to J.R.R Tolkien and Peter Jackson. I'm just borrowing them for 1,000 words or so.
Author's Note: I didn't dislike how the events at Ravenhill played out, not really. But there's still this part of me that really wanted the brothers to die together, and my over-creative mind keeps coming up with alternate ways that Ravenhill could have played out, and this idea was just too awesome to pass up.
The lower tunnels were empty.
There was no movement, no noise except the sound of his own footsteps echoing off the walls. The silence was almost eerie, and he couldn't help being nervous. It felt as if at any moment something could jump out of a corner and attack him. His hand went to the hilt of his sword and he kept it there.
As he made his way through the tunnels, a little nagging worry began to grow in the back of his mind. It was so silent here…where had that noise come from just moments ago? One of them was walking into danger—and the further down the tunnels he went, the more certain he was that it wasn't him.
It was Fili.
Kili swallowed hard and came to a stop. His brother had sent him the wrong way, and he had known it—he had sent him to safety and walked into the danger himself. Kili turned. He couldn't just let his brother walk into danger and not be there for him. Fili had been there for him so many times—always helping him, always supporting him, and never asking for anything in return. Now here was something Kili could do for his brother. He turned and began to run up the tunnels.
Do not engage.
Kili skidded to a stop. That was what Thorin had ordered—they were to scout, and nothing more. Was he disobeying his uncle's orders? Was coming to his brother's aid 'engaging'? Reluctantly, he turned back. The lower tunnels were empty. He would obey his uncle's orders and bring him the news.
Fili would be fine. His brother would come back to him, just like he always had.
Soon Kili emerged into the sunlight. He blinked in the brightness of the sun reflecting off the snow and looked around. He saw no one, but he knew they must be near. He was just beginning to search the area when he heard a noise above him. His heart pounding, he looked up.
High on a platform above him stood a giant, pale orc. And—Kili's heart sank and he felt a deep dread rising in his stomach. The orc was dragging something, or someone, behind him. It couldn't be. No…no…this couldn't be happening. Kili wanted to rush forward, to run back up the tunnels, to find his brother again. He couldn't be seeing what he thought he was seeing. It couldn't be Fili who was being dragged out like a useless object, ready to be discarded.
Kili found himself unable to move, unable to think as he watched. More than anything, he wanted to save his brother. He should have gone to his aid—he shouldn't have let Fili just walk into danger like that. As the orc dangled his brother high in the air, Kili wanted to scream. He wanted to tell the terrible orc to stop, that he would have Kili to deal with if he killed Fili. But he stood as if rooted to the ground, unable to speak.
The orc was speaking—saying something in its terrible language. It was a threat—a threat to himself and to his uncle, Kili could feel it deep in the pit of his stomach. It happened so quickly. He wanted to look away, but found himself unable to. Almost before he knew what was happening, his brother was dead, stabbed through the back.
His brother was dead. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the fact burned itself onto Kili's mind. He watched numbly as the orc dropped Fili to the ground and kicked him over the edge of the platform. His body fell, and Kili was unable to look away. And before his mind could register what had just happened, he found himself staring at the body at his feet.
Not quite knowing what he was doing, he dropped to his knees beside Fili, shaking him, begging him silently to wake up. "Fili," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Wake up. Please don't be dead. Please be alive."
His brother's eyes stared up at him, unseeing. A pool of blood seeped from his tunic where the blade had stabbed him. Kili winced and closed his eyes, cradling his brother in his arms. He had failed. He had failed to save the one he loved most. And now he was dead, how could he go on with life? How could he live, knowing he could have at least helped his brother? A sob wrenched itself from his throat and he felt hot tears running down his cheeks. He didn't care what happened to him now. For all he cared, he could die here, by his brother.
As he sat there numbly, one thought began to grow in his mind. There was yet one thing he could do for his brother, one last thing to honor his memory. He stood, drawing his sword.
"Let them come," he said quietly yet fiercely. "They will never defile my brother's body, not while I yet live."
Just moments later, orcs exploded over the ramparts, hundreds of them, it seemed. Kili stood his ground, his sword held tightly in his hand, unflinching as they swarmed towards him. A moment later he was fighting for his life, never allowing himself to be drawn from his brother's side. Every orc that came close to his Fili would die an ugly death.
He barely felt the wounds he was receiving, only knew that he must be receiving them, for blood seeped from his tunic in several places. The sword in his hand began to move slower, and slower, and he felt himself weakening, but still he fought on. He would fight to the end—to the death, if he must, to keep these horrible creatures from taking Fili's body.
Something attacked him from behind, and he was thrown forward, his sword flying from his hand. He groped for it desperately, but it was too late. Pain from his wounds flooded his mind and he was barely able to think. He felt a kick in his side and rolled over to see an orc standing over him, its sword raised. With one last desperate effort, he shoved his foot into the orc's leg. The orc tumbled to the ground and he rolled once again, grabbing his sword and shoving it though the creature's heart.
All was silent.
The orcs were gone.
Had they left or had he defeated them all? With his mind numb with pain and his body weakened from the many wounds he had received, he didn't know—and he didn't care. All he cared about was Fili. Wincing, he tried to get to his feet, but collapsed from the effort. He crawled forward, feeling pain stab his side every time he moved. Groping in front of him, he found his brother's body, untouched, undefiled by the orcs. Gasping for breath, he rolled over and lay beside Fili.
"I'm so sorry, brother," he managed to choke out. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you." And then pain flooded his mind once again, and just before the blackness closed in on him, he knew that he would die there with his brother.
Wow.
I'm kind of a wreck now.
Remind me to write something happy next time, okay?
