Summary: After being wounded by the Morgul poison arrow, Kíli keeps getting worse and worse, unnoticed by the others. In the night before they leave Laketown for Erebor he starts doubting.
The first fanfic I have actually finished in a very long time and the first one ever I'm uploading in English and on this page. I hope you enjoy it, please feel free to leave any comments containing feelings, thoughts, constructive criticism. Remember – reviews are the only reward for a fanfiction-author!
A gathering storm
Even if the merry chatting of his companions grew jauntier with every ale being drunk and louder with every hour passing by, Kíli had not ever felt so secluded in his whole life.
He could still see his uncle's aghast expression, that very moment his leg had failed him and he had revealed them all. He had almost ruined their whole quest, so close to it's end.
He just couldn't bear the thought of it, the shame that came over him once again, and instead gulped down the remaining contents of his jug. As the bitter liquid ran down his throat, a shiver went through his body, along with a sudden wave of nausea.
If only the pain would stop. He was so sick of the constant aching of his muscles, the panging in his head and the cramps in his entrails, that made him dizzy throughout the day and kept him awake in the night.
It had been easy to ignore at first. The pain in his leg had faded to a continuous smoldering throb, after Oin had forced him to drink that gruesome potion he had made from a milky latex. He had collected it from some rather pretty red and purple-coloured flowers, by incising their green capsules and mixing the whole thing with a good portion of ale, looking quite pleased with himself.
It had only left him a little lightheaded and shaky for the first day.
Although, deep down he had known for the whole time that something was wrong, he thought bitterly, reaching for another ale from the tray of a portly serving girl.
And when the dull soaring in his limbs had started, and the heat had filled his body, he had thought of it as the wound taking it's toll, and the fever visiting him.
Of course he had thought about telling Fíli, there were few things his brother wasn't able to fix, it had always been this way. But this time, he knew even Fíli wouldn't be able to help him. So he had kept his mouth shut, hoping it would all go away. He took a strong gulp, and another, and a third and forth one. His jug was half-empty already.
He was beginning to feel kind of lightheaded, welcoming the numbing of his senses with every new sip, easing the pain in his muscles. He couldn't help a twisted smile, due to the strangeness of the situation, when his limbs started feeling funnily numb and ticklish at the same time.
When had he stopped being the young dwarf that left his home to go on an adventure?
Fíli enjoyed himself. They were feasting in a small tavern nearby the master's palace (if one actually wanted to call that barn a 'palace'). There was plenty of food, and ale, all served by those lovely young maids (though he still found their clean, hairless faces somewhat irritating – at least they were not as scraggy as the elvish ones). Even the master and his smeary counselor had joined them for a couple of hours. The atmosphere was exuberant. Everyone was drinking, laughing, and drinking even more, it was like all the strains from the past weeks had vanished into thin air. He took another deep gulp of his brew, savoring the cool taste of it. With one ear he was listening to Nori's chattering on his left side, nodding approvingly every now and then, with the other to Bofur, entertaining half the table, including their dear Mr Baggins with his abysmally funny jokes.
"Two orcs walk into a bar. What does the third one do?", he was just yelling, pausing expectantly, before he roared:"HE DUCKS!" The whole table burst into laughter, and Fíli saw even Thorin smiling slightly.
He was just finishing his third drink, when he suddenly noticed his brother getting up. He hadn't payed much attention to Kíli all evening. His brother had seated himself at the complete opposite of the table, and as there had always been someone leaning between them, he hadn't really been in sight.
But know he was, and what he saw, deeply irritated him. While the faces of the others were broad smiles and laughter, his brother's expression was gloomy.
Worldlessly he climbed over the bench, failing to lift his right leg high enough, almost tripping over. As he had steadied himself again, he marched off, ignorant to the confused looks that Oin and Dori, as well as some other dwarves gave him. He saw him swaying lightly, as he climbed the stairs that led to the second floor of the small hut.
He didn't have to think much. Without hesitation he excused himself, got up and followed his younger brother.
"Kíli? Kíli!", within an instant he was at his brother's side, grabbing hold of him. Kíli had just made it a few steps into the room, before he had slumped down the wall he had been leaning on for support. His face was pale as a sheet, his breathing erratic and he was trembling like a leaf. Fíli saw beads of sweat on his forehead.
"Kíli, I'm here, what is it?" He pulled his brother into his embrace, supporting his upper body with his right arm, putting his left hand on his shoulder, but Kíli only seemed to notice him, as he shook him lightly. And as he finally did, he started sobbing.
"Shhhh, it's alright, I'm taking care of you, it's all going to be fine", Fíli heard himself saying, rocking his younger brother slightly back and forth.
He was shocked. He didn't have the slightest idea what on earth was going on. Kíli had seemed to be alright during the past days. Was it the arrow wound? Of course Fíli had noticed that Kíli wasn't feeling as well as he pretended to, but he had kept up well all the time, not complaining once, so Fíli had thought this was just the healing of the wound taking it's toll – nothing to worry about gravely.
Suddenly the sobbing stopped, and Fíli watched his brother's expression go from hollow to somewhat afflicted and immediately he knew what was about to come.
But it was too late. He could only draw aside just in time, before the retching began and Kíli started throwing up the contents of his stomach.
Fíli sat by, comfortingly rubbing his back, talking reassuringly, always having a firm grip on Kíli's upper arm. He wouldn't have him fall over, at least.
Or had it been the ale? Although Kíli was quite a firm drinker and usually could take quite a lot, as most dwarves did, that would at least explain the staggering and vomiting. Although Kíli had often been close to the point of the overkill, he had never passed the peak yet.
When it finally stopped, Fíli pulled the shivering Kíli up to his feet, never letting go of him, walked him a couple of steps away from the mess he'd made and lay him down on one of the sleeping bags, one of the dwarves had already laid out, rolling him onto his side – just to be safe. When he was certain, his brother's breathing had calmed and steadied, he touched him on the shoulder.
"I'm gonna get you some water, quickly, alright? Don't move, I'm not gonna be long."
Kíli's nod almost wasn't noticeable.
"What's happening? Is everything well?"
Fíli hadn't heard or seen his uncle approaching and almost let go of the jug, he had just filled with water. He turned around to look at Thorin and shook his head, feeling his uncle's intent look upon him. Once again he was reminded why Thorin of all people was the one leading the company – the one the dwarves had chosen to follow as their leader. While the other dwarfves had gone back to their jovial babbling, Thorin had been the only one noticing his quiet entrance.
His uncle's face was stern as ever and Fíli was certain, that he hadn't drunk a drop. He could imagine how fraught his thoughts must have been, so close to the end of their journey, even more strained by the carelessness around him. But his uncle knew, that all his fellows needed in such dark and dire times, was a bit of entertainment, distracting them from all the bad around them, and so he gave them their head.
Fíli had admired him for that, he always had, even as a child, when Thorin had just been an uncle to him, telling him wonderful tales about the old days of Erebor and Fíli hadn't even for a moment considered them more than just very entertaining stories.
"I will come and help", Thorin declared with one short glance back to the table, already setting into motion, but Fíli stopped him.
"Don't! It will do him no good right now, when you see him like this, believe me."
His uncle's look was dark, he wasn't pleased with what he heard, but at least he stopped.
"Fíli, if there is anything I should know…", he didn't finish his sentence, but Fíli had the odd feeling, that this was more than simple concern for his nephew.
It took him the entire way up the stairs to realize, that this had been a warning.
Kíli was just where Fíli had left him. He opened his eyes as Fíli approached, wearily watching his brother kneel down next to him, placing the water on the floor.
He didn't resist, when Fíli sat him up, allowing him to lean onto him, before carefully placing the jug on his lips. Fíli made him drink five small sips, then paused, until he had counted to hundred, then another five sips. He repeated this several times, until the jug was empty. Then they just sat there, Kíli's head resting against Fíli's chest, Fíli holding his brother in a firm embrace.
"Please don't tell the others, will you?", Kíli suddenly said, and even if he didn't see his face, Fíli knew from the certain tone of Kílis voice, how important this was to him.
"Won't", he finally said, unable to say the word 'promise'. He didn't have the heart to tell Kíli, that Thorin already knew.
Then all was silent again.
As Fíli considered Kíli asleep, he sat there for a little longer, then lay him down on the sleeping mat softly, covering him with the blanket. But as he got up to clean up the room, he felt something tugging on his sleeve.
"Stay…", even if Kíli's voice was nothing more than a faint whisper, it made Fíli kneel down again instantly.
"I'm here. How are you feeling?" He softly brushed the tangled hair from his forehead. He was still burning. Fíli suddenly felt a cold sting in his chest as a strange thought doomed upon him. This didn't look like the mere effects of alcohol. This seemed actually quite serious. He swallowed hard. No, that couldn't be, and even if, it would have time until tomorrow,maybe when they woke up, everything would be forgotten. Despite this thoughts he didn't quite manage to brush off the dark feeling completely.
Kíli groaned, drawing Fíli's attention back to the present. He seemed clearer than before, being able to focus on Fíli's face.
"Headachy", he admitted, a crooked smile dangling around his lips. He suddenly looked so much like the careless, cocky young dwarf that had left Ered Luin not long ago and Fíli felt a sudden sadness creeping up his chest.
"Well-deserved, you brawly drunkard, you are", he forced himself to sound merry and unconcerned.
It was meant to be a joke, but Kíli's face grew serious, nevertheless.
"Did you expect it to be like this?", Kíli said, plainly, his eyes never leaving Fíli's.
Did I expect it to be like what?, Fíli wanted to ask. To be so clueless, about how they were going on, never knowing what was to come next, only able to react to the direct hindrances they were confronted with?
Did he expect to face so many lifethreatening situations, that he even had lost count on them, accompanied by men, that weren't even used to fighting with weapons other then sticks and forks?
Did he expect life to be so dire, often not even getting food twice a day, and being lucky, to have the choice between a rock and a very hard place for a bed, rather than being grilled over a trollfire?
And… he had to swallow hard. Did he expect to face the possibility of losing his brother?
"Kind of", he finally said, after long consideration, seeing the ache flickering over his brother's expression.
"I didn't." The words hurt Fíli.
"I always knew there was the possibility to die, but somehow it seemed kind of more heroic for me, when I thought about it at home, than it does now. I mean, I know, we are meant to be fighting for home, but… I mean, we had a home in Ered Luin, didn't we?"
He paused, and a shudder went through him.
"I don't want to die for gold."
"You won't", Fíli said, way too fast, sounding far too reassuring. He knew, what Kíli wanted to say, now. Where others called it greed, the dwarves called it overly love for gold, and while he had always been told, that it simply lay within their nature to long for the shining metal, it suddenly seemed way more attractive to Fíli, to be at Ered Luin, the only home he knew, together with his brother and uncle. He had never doubted Thorin or the aim of their quest, but right now he was wondering - What did they have in Erebor they didn't have here, except for the great treasure Smaug was hording? What menat an united dwarvish kingdom to you, if you had to pay with the ones you loved?
A shudder went through him, he didn't want to finish that thought, because deep down he had the feeling, that this would change everything for him. And besides, they could talk about this another time.
"You better shut your mouth and eyes and go to sleep, now", he ended the conversation abruptly, squeezing Kíli's hand one more time, unable to not notice, how hot it felt.
"You'll see, everything will be better tomorrow."
For one second Kíli thought about telling his brother, that he wasn't so sure about that, and how dire he felt, and that he didn't know what to do. But then, what would that change? They couldn't do anything to help him. So Kíli didn't disagree, and smiled instead.
"It will… as long as you are with me."
And suddenly Fíli thought, that he might have actually been wrong in his dark suspicions. Everything would be well again, tomorrow.
When Fíli finally left the room, with the words "You need your rest, it will be a very long day", he didn't know, how right he would be.
» We lay under the Misty Mountains cold
In slumbers deep, and dreams of gold «