The first thing they hear is a peal of thunder, low and menacing as it rolls across the fields that lay in front Erebor before fading into the pitter-patter of rain. It is soon followed by a single warg-howl, and then the unmistakeable sound of heavy iron orc boots marching towards them. Fili's gut sinks; the Orcs and their fell beasts would not breach the walls of the dwarvish stronghold in a hundred years, but they were already low on food and without more provisions they will not last more than a couple of weeks. Thorin's promises that Dain Ironfoot would bring warriors and fresh supplies had been empty, and now any help would come too late.

He looks at his uncle from where they both crouch against the great wall they had built only a day ago. Fili had been raised on stories of gold-greed as a dwarfling, but growing up in the iron rich Ered Luin meant that he had not seen it for himself.

Until now.

Thorin's cheeks are sunken and hollow, and his pale skin looks a sickly yellow in the reflection from his burnished gold armour he once wore with pride. He is frowning, his brow furrowed into an angry line. Fili thinks Thorin has not stopped frowning since Bilbo brought back the first gem incrusted goblet from Smaug's hoard, and it strikes him that he has not heard Thorin laugh since the company first started out on this quest.

It takes Kili elbowing him hard in the ribs to knock Fili out of his troubled thoughts, though he quickly notices that his little brother looks troubled himself.
"Can you hear them?" he whispers, glancing worriedly at their uncle. "I think there are dwarves out there!"
Fili does not have to strain his ears to hear the khuzdul battle cries, nor the flowing speech of the elves that sounds oddly musical even when spoken in anger or even the common speech of men – and that is why he knows that Thorin will not willingly open the gates even if Mahal himself asked him to.

Time seems to drag until minutes seem like hours. Hiding behind stone and steel inside a mountain while their kin go to battle against the orcs that the company's own actions had led here – that was worst part, the cowardice of it all. Fili felt as tightly strung as a bow, with only the solid, familiar weight of Kili leaning against his back keeping him from snapping. Blindly, he reached behind him and squeezed his brother's hand.

"Thorin-" said Fili.

-Suddenly there was a great shout, and part of the great wall fell outward with a crash into the pool. Out leapt the King Under the Mountain, and his companions followed him.-

Fili opened his eyes. The bare earth that he lay on was wet – with blood, if the smell of it was anything to go on – and had turned to mud, oozing and cold where it touched his bare skin. He could feel a dull ache in the back of his head and a bright, burning pain across his chest and down his arm. Something tickled at the back of his thoughts, and Fili realised he could hear something, like someone shouting. But it was quiet, as if they were so far away their voices were only whispering.

It took a moment for Fili to gather the strength to turn his head towards the noise. He felt like he was carved from granite, stiff and unyielding, his own body rebelling against him. Fili blinked slowly, trying to focus on the figures approaching him. One of them appeared to be a small, fluffy white cloud, and it was a second or two before he recognized it was Balin. When he opened his mouth to call to his friend, however, all that came out was a hoarse croak.

It was enough to alert the old dwarf, to Fili's surprise. Balin had heard the sound and had started to head towards him with what looked like Dwalin and Gloin close behind. But it was too late, for exhaustion had been creeping up on Fili, unstoppable as the tide, and with a sigh he slipped back into unconsciousness before his rescuers could reach him.

-Fili dreams of the stone giants, their titanic bodies smashing together and raining debris upon the huddled dwarves. He dreams of Kili's face staring at him in horror as his brother is dragged further and further away from him as he stands there on the thin mountain ledge , helpless and alone-

The next time Fili woke, he was in a strange room. The ceiling above him was white, as were the walls, which moved with the breeze. Some sort of elvish medical tent, he guessed. Fili let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and relaxed further into the cot he lay on, which was soft and warm. Mind still hazy with sleep, he tried to push himself up into a sitting position before an elf abruptly appeared at his side and gently pushed him back. "It is best to lie down for now, Master Dwarf. You have been severely wounded, and we do not want you to strain yourself and delay the healing process."

Fili tried to tell her that he felt fine, really, but the only noise he made was a dry rasping sound. A look of understanding passed over the elf's face, and she reached over him to pick up a glass of water that sat on a small bedside table. "You have been asleep for the better part of a week, Master Dwarf, and you must be thirsty. Here, lean your head forward and I will help you drink." Gratefully, Fili lifted his head, and the elf held the cup to his lips. He began to gulp it down, water dribbling from the sides of his mouth and into his beard, until some of it ended up in his lungs and he began to cough. Smiling, the elf put the now empty cup back on the table and stood as if to leave.

"Forgive me, my lady." Fili interrupted before she could go, his voice husky and slurred with disuse. "Could you tell me more about my injuries if you've the time? I'd sit up and look for myself, but my healer has told me to stay put." He tried to smile winsomely at the elf, but his jaw felt oddly sore and stiff with the effort of speaking, and Fili was sure it had instead been an ugly grimace. The elf's own smile faded a little, and her brow creased ever so slightly as she sat back down. "Of course, Master Dwarf. You have several deep cuts on your chest which needed stitching, and three broken ribs. Multiple scrapes and scratches across your entire body which we are monitoring for infection. And-" She took a deep breath, her frown deepening. "Your left hand was severed at the wrist"

She was wrong, of course. He'd know if he'd lost his hand- and besides, he could feel it, resting against the sheets. He lifted up his arm to show her - but all that there was at the end of his arm was stump wrapped in bandages. It was strangest thing in the world, Fili mused numbly, to see no hand where there had always been a hand before. It didn't seem real, to have something so familiar be gone from one moment to the next without warning or notice. "Oh. I hadn't realised," Fili mumbled, hating how young and childlike he sounded. "Can you fetch my brother for me, my lady? I'd like to talk to him."

The elf would not meet his eyes.

HELLO! This is my precious, and like the ring it would have probably stayed in the dark caverns of my mind without a bit of luck and my wonderful friend and bilbo - I mean beta - februarysong dragging it out into the light.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and those that will follow.