A/N: This is a sort of sequel to another one-shot of mine, "Take Some Pride In Your Appearance, Brother". It's not necessary to have read that before this one, but I guess it's nice background information!
I was never going to write this (there are enough sad BoFA fics out there) but SilverWind13 changed my mind, so send all abuse her way!
Kili had never been afraid of the dark. Disliked it, perhaps, as most people did, but never feared it. His big brother had always been there to chase away the monsters and the wicked things that dwelled in the shadows.
His big brother was not here now, and it was getting very dark.
He dragged in a ragged lungful of air, doing his best to breath around the arrows in his chest. How many had it taken to make him fall? Two? Three? He hadn't been paying attention after the first horrible lightning flash of agony, and it hardly mattered now, did it? No, not when the pain had all but faded and his vision was fast following it. He was dying. Slowly but surely, cold and alone and in the dark, and with his big brother not there to chase away the monsters or the wicked things.
Fili. He closed his eyes against the thickening darkness of his failing vision. The ache in his chest had less to do with the arrows and more to do with the thought of his brother. He'd heard Fili's roar of denial from across the battlefield when he'd fallen, but dozens of orcs had separated his brother from getting to him, and then Kili had been pushed into a shallow gully at the foot of the mountain and everything had gone white for a time that might have been seconds or might have been hours. However long it had been, when Kili woke up he was alone and he was dying, and he hadn't even gotten to say goodbye to his big brother.
His breathing hitched around a hollow laugh. No goodbyes, he remembered telling Fili as they stood upon the wall, watching the advancing armies. We don't need to say goodbye. After all, we'll be seeing each other so soon it's hardly worth the effort, right? And he'd elbowed his brother playfully in the ribs, a desperate grin fixed on his face.
And Fili, brilliant, golden, big brother Fili, who could always read Kili like a book, had seen that wild desperation in his face and known that he'd needed someone to agree with him. So Fili had smiled and ruffled his hair, and told him quietly to tighten his vambraces.
"Would've been nice to say goodbye," Kili slurred, tears prickling beneath his eyelids.
There was a noise somewhere off to his left, clearer and nearer than the general sounds of battle coming from outside his sheltered little gully, and to Kili's oxygen deprived brain it sounded an awful lot like his brother's voice. "Fili," he breathed. His eyes shot open and with a mighty effort he managed to turn his head to face the direction of the sound. "Fi–"
His voice died in his throat.
Not five metres away at the other end of the gully, an orc was clambering to its feet from where it had fallen down the slope. As it bent to pick up its sword its eyes met Kili's and a cruel grin twisted its misshapen features. It lumbered forward, barking something in Black Speech, and Kili did not have to understand the words to get a sense of the general meaning.
An easy kill.
"I'm dying anyway, you great cockroach," he said softly, closing his eyes once more and waiting for the killing blow.
There was a horrible wet squelching sound, and an inhuman screech, and then someone's hands, warm, warm, blessedly warm against his frozen face.
"Kili," came a strangled sort of sob.
He hardly dared open his eyes, half sure that this was another trick of his dazed mind. But there were those rough, calloused palms pressed against his cheeks, anchoring him to reality, and the smell of spiced tobacco that he'd recognise anywhere, even over the pervading stench of death, convincing him without doubt that this was not a dream. He forced his eyes open.
Fili was leaning over him, blue eyes glazed with pain and fear and grief and his brilliant golden hair matted with blood. Seeing the slight glimmer of his brother's eyes, all the breath went out of him and his head fell forward onto Kili's shoulder.
"I thought y– …you'd gone without me," he whispered.
Kili sought out his brother's hand with numb fingers, squeezing it with what strength he had left and smiling into the worn palm. "Not yet, big brother," he mumbled.
"Together, or not at all," Fili said quietly.
Kili's eyes went wide with alarm at Fili's tone of voice. "Wha…no. Oh, no." He willed his broken body to move, straining to get a better look at his brother. "No, Fili, what have you done? What did you–"
Fili tried to push him back down, despair etched into his face. "Kili, stop, stop it–"
"Nononono," Kili gasped. At last he caught a glimpse of Fili's abdomen, a mess of shredded skin and blood and gore, and he froze. "No."
His big brother pressed one arm against his stomach, shielding it from Kili's view with a barely muffled cry as his gauntlet brushed the torn flesh. He had to hold on. "Kili–"
"No," Kili insisted adamantly, shaking his head in denial, as if by sheer force of will he could make everything better. "No, it'll be fine, it's gonna be fine." Tears snaked pale tracks through the grime on his face. "It'll be fine, Fee."
"Kili–"
"It'll be fine," he said again, smiling giddily, not quite knowing what "it" was considering that they were both dying, but sure that it would be fine anyway.
"Oh, little brother," Fili whispered, brushing Kili's hair out of his face as his own tears fell unchecked. "I'm so sorry. You of all people deserve more than this. I couldn't…I failed you."
Kili blinked rapidly, eyes wandering feverishly as his body began to shut down. He clutched at Fili's hand, trying to anchor himself to the world of the living somehow; the darkness was creeping back over his vision, and it was getting harder to focus on his brother's voice, but he still shook his head frantically. "No, Fili…no, you…never…failed m–" His words were cut off by a hacking cough that stole away what little breath he had and brought blood to his lips. He mouthed the words he needed so desperately to say. You've never failed me, big brother.
Fili put shaking fingers to his brother's lips, hushing him with a choked sob. "Shh, Kili, just lie still." But Kili looked like he was going to try and say something else, so Fili spoke over him.
"Remember when I last braided your hair, little brother?" he asked in a shaky voice, running his fingers through Kili's dark curls.
Kili looked up at him with wide glassy eyes, swallowing convulsively around the blood in his throat. Fili felt rather than heard him say yes. "It took three people to hold you down, you big oaf," he whispered with a broken laugh. His fingers, usually so deft and nimble, felt like they were weighed with lead as he fumbled to section off Kili's hair. His little brother shuddered beneath him, and Fili started babbling, almost blinded by the silent tears that streamed from his eyes. He spoke of anything that came to mind, of Bombur's plans for opening up a kitchen in the palace, of Nori's boasts that he could have whisked all the gold right out from under Smaug's nose (if only the dragon wasn't so accustomed to the smell of dwarf), of how happy Ma would be to have a new bed, one that wasn't creaky and half-rotten.
The tears continued to flow as he spoke about their home, of the pranks they'd pulled as teenagers and the adventures they'd gone on. He choked out a laugh here and there, remembering fondly how irresponsible they'd been.
Then Kili stilled beneath him, and the world seemed to lose all its colour.
And Fili, brilliant, golden, big brother Fili, who had always stayed strong for his little brother's sake, continued to talk, his body wracked by the sobs that he refused to let out.
As he spoke he worked, coaxing Kili's unruly hair into loose braids that fell un-tied about his shoulders. He'd done the same thing one merry night, what felt like years ago. The Company had been around them then, laughing and cheering, and even Thorin had cracked a smile.
"I wish you…could've seen your own face, little brother," Fili said, voice hoarse. "Priceless." He swayed where he sat; a comforting numbness had washed over his body, slowing his senses as it did so, and it was all he could do to continue talking. "I'm…afraid it's not…quite as good as the last time," he murmured, brushing a few stray strands of dark hair off Kili's forehead, ignoring how icy the skin was to touch. "But you were never…very picky."
A wave of dizziness threatened to overcome him, and Fili steadied himself against the side of the gully. "Not done…yet," he grated out.
His head swimming from blood-loss and his fingers clumsy with the cold, Fili reached up into his own hair and drew out a bead from one of his braids. Then, carefully, he secured it in his brother's hair. It gleamed brightly against Kili's dark curls, and Fili thought that his baby brother had never looked so princely.
"Not too bad, Kee," he said, as his eyelids fluttered closed. He felt the darkness calling him, a warm, comforting blackness that he'd heard old soldiers speak of with fear. But Fili didn't feel afraid. He knew he didn't have to be. He knew he wasn't alone.
As if on cue, he felt an icy finger on the back of his neck. Someone was waiting for him.
"Coming…little brother," he breathed, and pressed a kiss to Kili's forehead before the darkness finally claimed him.
Thanks so much for reading, you guys. I like to think that when Fili and Kili's bodies were finally found, the Company noticed the bead in Kili's hair, and insisted that it be left there for his burial.
Sorry for all the emotions (really, I am). Writing sad stuff is pretty exhausting for me, so if you thought this was suitably heart-breaking, please let me know! All comments and critiques are enormously appreciated! Thanks again for reading C: