"We'll start with the youngest," the goblin king cawed, causing his underlings to fill the foul air with snickers that echoed from the damp walls like snapping branches. The king's eyes orbited around Ori, whom, because he possessed the smallest frame, he believed to be the youngest. However, in reality, the youngest in age was Kíli, whose muscles clenched as he heard the king's taunts ring out around him.
The young dwarf's face strained to remain smooth as elven-crafted metal. He produced a magnificent show; only those who knew him best would have been able to tell that fear had driven and lodged itself like a splintered stake in the dwarf's heart. The twitch of his temple, the upward, slight cline of his brow, the way the corner of his mouth shook and quivered as he pulled to keep his lips from pressing together were all details that betrayed his hastily-crafted facade, but could only have been caught by a trained and experienced eye. His brother, Fíli, had honed such a skill over the entirety of young Kíli's life, so much so that he was able to detect his terror from the corner of his eye. A sleeping beast that constantly dwelled within Fíli's chest writhed awake inside him, twisting and roiling. He recognized the feeling as that of the desire— no, the necessity — to protect his brother.
Fíli allowed himself one flash of a glance directed to Kíli's face, a risk in itself, for to reveal a connection between oneself and another member of his company that extended further than that of a comrade in arms was certain torture. The enemy could use the weakness to funnel information and confessions from the him as easily as walking into a hobbit hole uninvited. Fíli only lent himself the luxury of a profile of his brother strictly because he did not believe goblins to be intellectual enough to catch the significance of such a swift rove of the eyes.
When his suspicions were confirmed of his brother's fear, he kept his eyes trained straight forwards, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself.
That was when he took note of the fact of how tightly pack they were upon the weathered, wooden platform. He could not move without coming into contact with flesh of another dwarf or goblin, and every goblin's attention seemed to be captured by their king.
It was also in that moment that he acknowledged the overwhelming need to comfort his brother. He would have gladly turned out his pockets, ridding himself of what precious gold he had left, handed over his weapons, anything, to be able to provide Kíli with even the smallest form of consolation. Luckily, though, due to the confined space and the distracted attention of their captors, he wouldn't have to.
When the goblin king began to dance and sing ridiculously of all the bone-chilling things he was about to do to them, most of which Fíli desperately hoped were empty threats, Fíli seized his chance, his left hand shooting out and grasping Kíli's right.
Kíli's immediate reaction was to jerk his hand away, undoubtedly due to the worry of being found out, but Fíli held fast.
Struggling to keep his voice even, low, and strong for his baby brother, Fíli said quietly, "I will not let anything happen to you."
This had not been the first time he had made this vow. He had made it for the first time long before they even joined their uncle's company. He knew that the world was always lurking and reeking with danger. He knew that that danger would take a liking to a soul such as Kíli's: brave, just, loyal, and true. The darkness was attracted to the light, simply to absorb it. The moment he knew that, he swore he would protect Kíli with everything he possessed: mind, body, soul, sword, and shield.
And he would never go back on that vow.
