Author's note: Time frame skips around a little in this one. Enjoy!
(Edit: Thanks to the reviewer who reminded me about adding in the section lines! I had forgotten.
hearts so raw and clear
Kíli thrashes, trying desperately to free himself. But he is weak from injury and illness, and there are too many ranged around him, holding him down.
"Hold him," someone orders, and two more sets of hands descend, turning Kíli's face to the side and pinning him there. Kíli keens as he feels two handfuls of hair cut away and the skin is quickly shaved.
The hands holding him down loosen briefly and Kíli struggles to try and escape. Someone curses overhead, someone else demands that they end this now, and Kíli is dragged back into place, held down firmly. His head is briefly free and he looks around, trying to find an ally or an escape route.
His eyes fall on the blade being prepared, and he begins to scream.
"My brother," Kíli informed the goblin sullenly, "is never going to let me hear the end of this."
The goblin hissed as it died and Kíli swung around, eyes taking in the field quickly. There were no more goblins close to him, and he discarded his sword for his bow, drawing quickly on the struggling figures across the open space.
"It's only a few weeks, Fíli," he said, high pitched as his brother would no doubt say it, punctuating the sentence with arrows. "I'll be fine, Fíli. The Rohan are our friends, Fíli. Didn't last too long, did it, Kíli?" He took down the last goblin he could see, dropping back to his own tone. "And he'll keep doing that for weeks," he told the dead goblin, turning in a circle to make sure none of the raiding party had gotten past him. He could see the Rohan villagers starting back up the slope towards him, tired and filthy, nursing various small injuries. "Where did they come from?" he called as the men came into hearing distance.
"Emin Muil?" someone suggested. "Who knows."
"Who cares," another added. "We're grateful for your assistance, little master."
Kíli shrugged, turning to look for his sword. "It's no hardship for a Dwarf to kill goblins." He almost added "Maybe you'll pay me fairly tomorrow" but managed to control himself. Alone in a town of Men, he couldn't afford to raise their ire.
"Are you injured?" the same Man asked. "The women will be waiting."
"No injuries, sir," Kíli said easily. "Only one came close enough, and he died on my blade."
"Then you might help the others stack the bodies? We'll burn 'em before the children can slip away to come look." Considering Kíli, he added, "There'll be food and ale after, and I daresay some one of us'll find a corner of a barn or something like. Better than the field I know you've been camping in."
"It doesn't belong to anyone," Kíli protested. "I made sure."
"No, it's no one's land. Barn'd be warmer, though. You come along the town hall with the others when you're done."
"Thank you," Kíli said finally, giving up. Securing his bow across his back, he nodded to the Man and headed down the slope to join the others. Some of them were working on stripping anything useful from the bodies; Kíli ignored that, dragging the stripped bodies to the pile they were forming. Dwarves didn't loot enemy dead, but he wasn't going to stop these Men looking for a little payback.
It didn't take too long – it had been only a small raiding party – and eventually the Man they were taking orders from waved Kíli off. "Head on up to the town hall," he said gruffly. "There'll be a bite to eat there."
"Thank you," Kíli said politely. Waving at the nearby stream, he added, "I'll just clean up first."
The water was icy cold. Kíli shivered as he splashed his face, stripping off his bracers and archery gloves to rinse his wrists and arms. The Men had been vicious in their defence of their families, and Kíli thought privately that the field would need to be burned to clear the mess they'd made.
A slight noise nearby alerted him. Kíli stayed leaning over the stream, pulling his bracers back on and letting the movements hide his drawing his dagger. Staying balanced, he counted softly under his breath before spinning, blade out, and sliced away a handful of branches.
A young girl threw herself backwards, landing with a thump, and Kíli reared back, dropping his knife. "I'm sorry, little lady, I didn't know who it was. Are you hurt?" She shook her head, staring at him, and he leaned forward to offer her a hand up. "I'm sorry," he said again.
"You don't look like a Dwarf," she told him. She was perhaps seven or eight, maybe a little older, and blonde like almost everyone he'd met here.
"Don't I? Why's that?" She pantomimed a beard, and he grinned. "That, little lady, is because I'm an archer. You've seen bows?" He pantomimed drawing back the bow to his mouth, and she nodded. "Well, a long beard just gets caught in the string, and then I shoot myself at the enemy. And that just looks silly." She grinned, and he smiled. "But look." Standing up slowly, he stood close enough that she could see he was only a little taller than she was. "See? You'll grow much taller, but this is as big as I'll ever get. Is that like a Dwarf?"
"I saw a Dwarf once, and he had big hair to here." She stretched her hands out as high as she could reach.
"Some do," Kíli agreed. "Little lady, someone will be looking for you. Let's go back to the village."
"Éadnes," she told him, and then her eyes widened in horror. "Behind you!"
Kíli was already turning when the sword hilt smashed into his temple, and that probably saved his life; he went with the blow, crashing onto all fours, dizzy and sick with pain. Éadnes screamed, a thin, high pitched sound, and he looked up; his eyes refused to focus, but he could see her scrambling back away from a dark figure.
"Hey!" He threw a clump of grass, catching it in the back. "Hey, piss face! Leave the girl alone, she's no meal for someone like you!"
The goblin turned, studying him. "You'll keep," he said dismissively, turning back to Éadnes. She'd backed up a little more, but now she was trapped against a rise and couldn't get away without turning her back on the goblin.
Kíli scrabbled around, trying to concentrate past the fiery pain. He'd never felt anything like it; it was coming in waves, and all he wanted to do was curl up and try and wait it out.
Éadnes cried out, and his fingers closed over the hilt of his dagger. He looked up again, but his sight was getting worse and he could barely distinguish the two figures now. Blackness swirled around the edges of his vision; he forced it back with an effort.
"Hey!" he shouted again, and when one turned, he breathed a prayer and threw the dagger. It caught the figure in the chest. The movement overbalanced Kíli and he fell, trying to get his hand up to break his fall and failing, landing half in the stream. The water felt like acid in his wound and he flailed for a moment, trying to push himself out of it.
A hand caught the back of his tunic and jerked him out of the water. Kíli moaned; that had to be the goblin, so he must have hit Éadnes. Giving up, he allowed the darkness to overwhelm him.
Éadnes is clinging to his hand, whispering comfort. Kíli rolls his head towards her with an effort; it feels as though it's swollen to three times its' normal size. "Éadnes," he slurs. "Where's my brother?"
She shakes her head, eyes wide. "I sent the message. Nothing's come back. Are you thirsty?"
Kíli's head rolls back towards the centre of the bed; he can't quite manage to stop it. "No."
"Westron," she reminds him, and Kíli closes his eyes in frustration.
"I am."
"Westron, Kíli."
"I am!"
The pain in his head spikes, and he groans, curling in on himself, pulling free of Éadnes' hand. He knows what's coming, and he waves vaguely, hoping that she'll leave. He's given up trying to stop this; it only makes it worse when it finally overwhelms him.
Pain, and darkness, and just before the darkness he knows he's moving, shuddering in place, completely unable to stop himself, spitting out bitten off Khuzdul and Westron words and half phrases. When the darkness lifts he's almost off the pallet and every part of him aches; he drags himself back into place and lies down, completely exhausted. Éadnes is sobbing quietly from somewhere near the door and he holds out a hand, beckoning her closer. "I'm all right, Éadnes."
"No, little master, you are not." Éadnes' father; Kíli knows his name, but he can't remember it right now. Heoru...? Maybe. "You are not all right," he repeats, stepping into Kíli's field of view, "but you will be. We will make sure of it." And other villagers are appearing, circling the pallet and reaching to pin Kíli down, and he begins to struggle.
As soon as Kíli woke he tried to roll off the pallet he was lying on; his head swam sickeningly, and he had to abandon the attempt halfway through. It was enough to catch attention, though, and a firm hand pressed him back down. "Easy, little master," a woman's voice said. "You've been injured."
Kíli caught at the hand. "Éadnes?"
"She's well. You saved her."
"I thought…" Kíli trailed off, frowning.
"You thought you'd hit her," the voice says gently. "You talk in your sleep, little master. But she's unhurt. You hit the goblin. Can you see anything?"
Kíli opened his eyes, saw a blur of ceiling and blonde hair, and closed his eyes again. Even that moment had made him sick to his stomach and dizzy. "No."
"You took a blow that would have killed a man."
Kíli almost nodded before catching himself. "Dwarves are sturdy."
"Sturdy, but you can be hurt, it seems. Is there anything particular you need, little master?"
"Need," Kíli echoed. The pain was starting to build in his head, making it difficult to concentrate.
"I know how to take care of human injuries. I've never met a Dwarf before."
"No. I – no. It will heal."
"Will you drink something?"
He took a couple of sips of water, but his stomach rebelled and he pulled away, trying to curl around the pain. The woman held him still, and he thought dimly that he should probably be worried that a human woman could hold him still against his will.
The pain ebbed and he relaxed, groaning. She tried to give him more and he turned his head away, unable to face the pain again so soon.
"Later, perhaps," she said softly. "Rest, little master. I won't be far."
Kíli drifted for a while. The pain in his head came in waves; each time he tried to curl against it the woman was there to hold him still, and after a while he was too tired to try anymore, tensing where he lay instead. She coaxed more water into him, a few drops at a time, but he refused to even try to eat anything and she didn't push.
At some point a small, warm hand slipped into his, and he turned his head that way without opening his eyes. "Éadnes?"
"Are you hurt?" she whispered, voice very small.
"Nothing to worry about, little lady." He forced a smile, and though it felt wrong to him it must have been enough for her. "Are you hurt?"
"No, you saved me. Thank you." She hesitated before adding, "Can I hug you?"
"I would like that," he murmured, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on.
They've been keeping Éadnes out of the room, but she slips in whenever they're not looking. Kíli's never quite sure how to feel about it. It's nice that she worries, he supposes, but having to pretend he doesn't hurt as badly as he does wears him down very quickly.
She slips inside now, taking his hand as she usually does. Kíli stirs, coming out of a half-doze and turning his head to look at her. His vision refuses to clear fully, but he can see shapes and shadows and colours, mostly. "Éadnes."
"Kíli," she answers.
"Éadnes, I need something."
"I'll fetch Father."
"No," he says quickly. "This is something for you to do."
He thinks she's frowning, but she nods. "What is it?"
"It's important, and it has to be a secret."
"What is it?" she repeats.
Kíli slowly explains how to call a Raven – they're rare, so far south, but he is Durin's Line and there will be a Raven – what to write and what to tell the bird. Éadnes listens to all of it before asking curiously "Who is Fíli?"
"My brother."
She's frowning again, he can hear it in her voice. "We're taking care of you."
"Yes. You are," he agrees. "But I was supposed to be home, Éadnes. He'll be worried. Please. Please send the message so he won't worry."
It occurs to him suddenly that maybe she can't write, but she hasn't protested so he doesn't worry about it. "All right. I promise."
"Thank you," he breathes. The pain is starting to build again, and he focuses on holding it back until she's gone. "Hurry, now, before your parents find you in here again."
Éadnes slips out silently; Kíli waits until he hears the door close before allowing the fit to overcome him.
The first time Kíli woke up hurting all over, he was confused. He'd done nothing but lie still for almost two days now. And when the woman who was his caretaker tried to explain, he found it hard to concentrate on her words; they kept slipping away from him, leaving him even more confused. She gave up, eventually, smiling rather helplessly and patting his shoulder.
The second time, he recognised the way the pain had swelled beforehand, but he still couldn't understand why he hurt so badly in his arms and legs and down his back and across his chest. This time the woman let him sleep off the worst of the aftereffects before explaining, slowly, that he'd thrown some kind of fit, that he'd shaken so hard he'd almost fallen off his pallet, that he'd been shouting in at least three languages. Kíli shook his head slowly, uncertainly. "I've never heard of that," he told her. "Not in Dwarves. I know - there's a Dwarf I know, he took a head injury and lost all his Westron - but not what you're describing."
"Perhaps it's nothing," she reassured him. "Only a passing illness."
"Yes," he agreed. "Of course."
After the fourth time she began murmuring to the other villagers when she thought Kíli couldn't hear her, and though she was as careful and kind as ever he thought she was wary of him. He couldn't put his finger on why he thought that, exactly; something in her manner.
Eventually she told him that he was slipping into Khuzdul in the middle of his sentences. Kíli couldn't tell when he was doing it, which worried him more than anything else that had been happening; as far as he could tell, he was speaking Westron all the time.
The fits didn't grow any more frequent, but he found it harder and harder to shake off the effects. He couldn't eat anything; keeping water down was a challenge. The bruise on his head faded, but the pain was constant, fading and strengthening but never fading completely. He tried to ask them to send to Ered Luin, or to one of the nearby towns where there might be Dwarves, but his Westron was too far gone, or he was too ill to make himself understood.
And the fits kept coming.
The blade is pressed against his skin. Kíli is held down too tightly to even scream any more, but he keens frantically as the blade rocks back and forth, scoring more deeply each time. The first line is completed and Heoru repositions the blade for the next one.
There's noise outside, shouting and weapons clashing. Kíli's eyes roll towards it, but he can't see anything past the bodies holding him down and no one is moving. Heoru's movements have sped up the tiniest amount, though.
The door bursts open and Éadnes darts inside, running directly to a back corner. Heoru exclaims, but before anything can happen there are two Dwarves standing in the doorway. Kíli weeps as the blade is lifted away from his head.
"Take your hands off him!" one demands, in a voice Kíli's fairly sure he should recognise.
"We are trying to save his life," Heoru says warningly. "Who are you to stop us?"
"We are of the family Ri, retainers to his uncle the king and his servants. You will not touch him until the king's physician has seen him."
Nori. Kíli knows he should be surprised, but he's too worn out; the hands are loosening all around him and he rolls off the pallet, unable to break his fall and landing with a thud. Éadnes creeps out from under the table, pressing a cloth to his head.
"The boy is possessed," Heoru says from above him. "We've seen him try to cast the demon out. This method we are trying to use works."
"It works for Men," the other Dwarf – Dori, Kíli thinks distantly, Fíli must have been beside himself to force the oldest Ri to leave the youngest behind – says. "We are Dwarves, good master. Our demons are different and our methods of dealing with them are different too. What you are trying here will not work on Dwarven demons."
"You might have strengthened it," Nori adds, and Kíli can hear the grin in his voice. "We'll take charge of him. Come on, demon bait, can you walk?"
Kíli doesn't answer, can't figure out how, and a moment later the world swoops sickeningly as Nori heaves him upright. He does his best to walk, but after a moment Nori mutters "Leave it. You're less hindrance dragging. Mahal save me from the Durinsons and their height!"
Dori comes up on his other side and Kíli lets them half carry him out, leaving the villagers behind.
Dori and Nori had a camp some way outside the village; Ori was waiting for them there, nervous and wary. Kíli had managed to explain what was happening to him as they travelled, and when they arrived Dori left him with Nori to get cleaned up and took Ori to help him with something. Nori was brisk but not unkind, cleaning away the blood and bandaging the wound on Kíli's head. When he was done Dori appeared to help Kíli to the pallet they'd made for him, wider and deeper than usual.
"The Men were holding you down during your fits, weren't they?" he asked, helping Kíli to sit. "I have seen this happen after head injuries. It's safer and easier on you to just let it happen, and make sure there's nothing around you can hurt yourself against. Oin should be able to help you once he gets here."
"Is he coming?"
"Him and Fíli both, and probably others. We were closest when the message came out."
Ori appeared with a bowl in one hand; Kíli started to protest, and Dori shook his head firmly. "It's light, it won't make you sick, and you need to start eating. Try it, at least."
Kíli tried it, reluctantly, and discovered Dori was right; it was light enough not to make him sick. He still couldn't manage much of it, but Dori seemed satisfied with the small amount he ate.
He fitted again that night, and again late the next afternoon, and slept for nearly a day afterwards. Dori was right, it was easier when no one tried to restrain him, but it still wore him out, exhausting him. He woke, early in the afternoon of the second day, to someone checking the bandage around his head, and immediately tried to scramble away.
"Kíli, stop, it's me. Stop, let me look at it."
Kíli hesitated, opening his eyes and trying to force them to focus. He still couldn't see much, but he saw the blond and beads of Fíli's braids and closed his eyes in relief. "Fíli."
"Let me look at it," Fíli repeated softly, and Kíli turned his head to make it easier. Fíli carefully untied the bandage, peeling away the dressing to study the wound. "What were they trying to do?"
"Free me from demons."
"You're speaking Khuzdul."
Kíli nodded as Fíli tied off the bandage again. "I've been doing that."
"Bifur'll be pleased." Fíli's hand rested on his shoulder.
"Fíli," Kíli murmured, "do you remember –"
"It didn't happen," Fíli interrupted him. "Don't let it worry you."
"Fíli…"
"It didn't happen," he said more firmly. "And it won't ever happen. I'll never let it happen to you." He glanced away at something Kíli hadn't seen. "Oin needs to look at it, Kíli."
Kíli shivered, but nodded. "Quickly."
"Yes." Fíli waved over his head and then shifted to sit on his other side. Kíli wound a hand into Fíli's leathers, hanging on tightly.
Oin kept the examination as short as he could, but Kíli was still tense by the end of it, forcing himself to breathe. Oin wrapped it back up and, after bringing Kíli a tonic to drink, left them alone with instructions for him to rest as much as possible.
He fell asleep before too long; Fíli waited to be sure he was asleep before carefully extricating himself and crossing to join the Ri brothers. "Thank you," he murmured.
"I'm glad we made it in time," Dori told him.
"Or almost time," Nori added, grinning unrepentantly when Dori glared at him.
"Is he all right?" Ori asked.
"No." Fíli shrugged at his look. "Do you remember when our father died, Ori?"
"I remember hearing about it," Ori said warily. "Everyone heard about it."
"Yes," Fíli agreed. He was used to everyone knowing everything that happened to their family; they always had, as long as he remembered. "But everyone doesn't know what happened to him. And they won't find out, understand?"
"You don't have to tell us," Ori said quietly.
"You saved Kíli; you should know. Our father was working in a Man village on the edge of Gondor: they returned his body, they told us he'd been injured and they hadn't been able to save him."
"Yes, that's what we were told," Dori agreed, pressing a plate into Fíli's hands.
He stared down at it sightlessly. "There was a hole in his head. Fist sized and straight edged, a deliberate hole, like the one they started in Kíli's head. Oin didn't know why, and he couldn't say that it killed him, but the other injury shouldn't have."
"Does Kíli know that?" Nori asked quietly.
"Yes," Fíli said just as softly. "He knows that our father died because someone made a hole in his head. And he knows that someone just tried to make a hole in his, and they'd have done it if you hadn't made it in time."
"I don't think the Men were trying to hurt him," Dori offered. "They thought they were helping him."
"They should have kept their hands off him," Fíli muttered.
"Maybe, but…"
"Camp!" someone called from some distance away, and Fíli and Nori both dove for weapons. Fíli pointed Ori back to sit with Kíli and went to meet the Man who was shouting.
"That's the Man was holding the blade," Nori said directly into his ear, and Fíli snarled. The Man was holding his hands out to the sides, clearly unarmed, and watched without reacting as Dori and Nori circled him.
Fíli halted in front of him and raised one eyebrow. "Yes?"
"I am Heoru."
"Yes?" Fíli repeated in exactly the same tone.
"Your friends here took a Dwarf from our village."
"Yes."
Heoru frowned slightly. "He saved my daughter's life. I would like to know if he lives. She is very worried for him."
"Not so worried that she tried to stop you butchering him," Fíli noted tightly.
Dori shifted slightly. "She showed us where he was being kept," he offered. Fíli nodded to show he'd heard, but he didn't look away from Heoru.
"You may believe it or not, as you choose, Master Dwarf, but we meant only to help him. We have no fine healers here, but the treatment –"
"Cutting his head open?"
"It works," Heoru insisted. "My own uncle suffered as Master Kíli did, and the treatment gave him relief. He lived for years afterwards."
"It may work for Men," Fíli allowed. "But we are Dwarves, sir. Our injuries are different, our healing is different, and what you call treatment kills us. It killed his father, and he knows it, and you showed him the blade and held him down to apply it. You may have meant no harm, but you have injured him grievously."
Heoru nodded slowly. "I am sorry for that, Master Dwarf. We meant to help. Is there anything you need?"
"You've done enough," Nori started, but Fíli shook his head, half turning.
"Oin?" Oin came to join them, and Fíli said, deliberately loud, "Is there anything you need to help Kíli? Herbs, food, anything?"
Oin nodded, unruffled. "There are herbs I'm running short of, and we can't move Kíli until he's stronger."
"Good. This Man will bring you whatever you need."
He turned away, but Heoru called after him. "What shall I tell my daughter, Master Dwarf? Will Kíli live?"
Fíli stopped dead, but it was Oin who answered. "He needs care, from those who know how to care for him. I think he will most likely live."
Heoru nodded slowly. "I am glad."
Fíli turned, coming back to study him. "I believe you intended no harm, Master Heoru," he said, voice very even. "And I think you'll remember this. So remember, if a Dwarf is hurt and you feel some need to help, the best thing to do is find another Dwarf. That is what I will ask of you."
"I will remember."
"Good," Fíli said shortly, and when he turned again he kept going until he could kneel beside Kíli. Ori scuttled back a little, wide eyed, but he didn't speak.
Kíli was drowsing, awake enough to know who was there but not much else; he found Fíli's hand, holding it loosely, and Fíli knelt by his brother and watched him breathe.