From a prompt on Livejournal which read:
The first time Thorin found them like that was when Kili was sick and curled up against Fili with Fili's thumb in his mouth. The last time was after BOFA with Kili in a healing sleep, Fili's thumb in his mouth and drying tears on his cheeks.
Here is the result:
Sum
Thorin was unattended, propped up on a great mound of cushions and salvaged oddments, when Gandalf brought Bilbo to him. The wizard hurried off on some other business within a few minutes, leaving the two of them alone in the half-light of the tent to talk. Forgiveness was asked and given in as many breaths, and they turned to comparing accounts of the battle.
"Bilbo… they won't tell me what happened to Fili and Kili. Did anyone tell you?"
"I- no. No-one said anything. But then, they were in a hurry to get me to you. I could ask, if you like?"
"Please."
Thorin paused for a long moment, and Bilbo was about to quietly take his leave, when he spoke again.
"I saw Kili fall." He spoke in spurts, as though the words were too painful to be dealt with in one go. "An orcish axe, from behind. I saw Fili gut the orc. I couldn't reach them. I couldn't see." He raised his eyes to Bilbo once more, and repeated himself.
"Please."
Balin seemed ready enough to talk when Bilbo approached him on the subject.
"They are with the healers. Both of them took severe wounds in the battle. They can't be moved."
"Will they live?"
"We aren't sure." Balin admitted with a sigh. "Oin is with them every hour of the day he's not with Thorin, but he won't give a definite answer. I think we all know that Kili won't be using his legs any time soon."
"Thorin won't make it, though." It wasn't a question.
"Balin?"
"Yes, Bilbo?"
"Why aren't we telling Thorin about Fili and Kili?"
"Oin thought it would distress him."
"But surely he is already distressed? He's desperate for news."
"Really? He has been hiding it from me, then. I had not realised that it would bear down on him so much. Well, let us speak with Oin. Perhaps he will change his mind."
Oin grumbled and fretted, but at length he too was persuaded. Together, they returned to Thorin's tent. The king-under-the-mountain watched them warily, suspicious of what this delegation might mean. Oin cleared his throat and began.
"Your Majesty. Bilbo said you desired news of your nephews."
"And Bilbo told truth, as well you know. Are you finally ready to let me have some answers, Oin?"
The healer nodded.
"You know, I think, that both princes were injured on the field. They both live for now, though they cannot be moved."
"For now? Come now, Oin, don't spare me your thoughts. I want to know."
"We had to put Kili into a healing sleep to stop him injuring himself further. I am inclined to think that he will live. But he will not walk again, unless he finds a better healer than I."
"And Fili?"
"Him I am less sure of. His wounds are severe, but he is young and strong, and I see no reason to lose all hope."
"Can I see them?"
"You shouldn't move."
"Why does it matter now? I'm dying anyway. Aren't I, Oin?"
Oin looked as though he would have preferred not to answer but gave a grudging nod. Thorin looked as though it came as more of a relief than a blow.
"Let me see them."
Kili lay on his side, his brother draped across his back like a cloak. Fili's arm was around his shoulders, and they saw that Kili had his brother's thumb in his mouth. It looked as though he had recently been weeping- the mark of the tears had not yet faded from his cheeks, and they could see how their trails snaked over Fili's hand and into his sleeve.
The attendant clearly felt that he ought to explain.
"They both fretted until we pushed the beds together, so we left them that way. They're more inclined to lie still when they're together."
"It has always been the way." Thorin's voice was hoarse, and as his attendants helped him to a chair, his eyes filled with tears that did not spring from pain alone.
"They lay like this as children. When Kili was ill, I found Fili wrapped around him just… just as now." Chair pushed up to his nephews' bedside, Thorin reached out to lift some stray hairs from Fili's brow.
"That was the first summer I came to take Fili away with me. Fool that I am, I was ever trying to separate them in some way. I could never see what lay in front of my eyes."
"That first year, he would cry out for Kili in the night. I pretended not to know. I thought it was something he had to grow out of."
Thorin began to run his fingers idly through Kili's hair. His hand trembled, and the heaving of his chest betrayed his struggle to draw breath. Seeing this, Oin said;
"Walking takes a lot out of you. I will find a cart, or a bier, to take you back."
"No."
"Your pardon?"
"I will not be returning to that tent. Leave me here."
"But Thorin-"
"Leave me, I said!" Something of the old fire sprang into Thorin's face, and Oin took a step back. Then it faded, as quickly as it had come, and Thorin merely looked old, and achingly tired.
"Forgive me. But as I am king for this brief time, I have at least the privilege of choice in the place and manner of my death. Have I not earned that right, Oin? Balin? Will you take the light from my eyes before the breath is out of me?"
The two dwarves shook their heads. Balin closed his eyes against the tears threatening to overflow them. Oin signalled to one of the Ironhill dwarves at the tent entrance.
"I'll send for extra blankets from your tent, and some more cushions. We can at least make you comfortable."
"Thank you, Oin." Thorin bowed his head, seeming to address his words to his own knees.
"You have ever been gentler to me than I deserve. And I have never given you the praise you merited."
Oin paused, deeply moved. Then he bowed.
"It has been an honour to serve you, Thorin Oakenshield. Too short a time, perhaps, but none of it regretted."
The blankets were fetched, and when the two dwarves had done all they could usefully do for their king, Thorin kissed them both, and shared some final words. Then there was nothing left, and they took their leave of him. Other members of the company passed by, and Dain. Eventually, even the princes' attendants were persuaded away, and Thorin was left alone with his nephews. The tent filled up with shadows.
Thorin watched the boys sleep until it became too dark to see, even for a dwarf. The moon must be hidden tonight, he thought. Or perhaps it was his own eyesight that was failing. No matter. He would hardly need it again.
Perhaps he slept, though he could not be sure. At any rate, it seemed to him that he woke at the sound of sheets shuffling in the dark, and a low moan. He drew his aching bones together, and whispered in what he hoped would be comforting tones:
"It's alright, lad. Don't fuss."
He heard a startled intake of breath. The scuffling ceased.
"Uncle?"
"I'm here, Fili."
"Thorin, I-
"Ssh." Thorin leant as far across as the pain in his side allowed and pressed a hand against his nephew's head. "That sounded like it was going to be an apology. And you don't owe me anything of the sort, now or ever."
There was a long pause. Neither of them knew quite how to proceed. Then Fili asked;
"Uncle, the battle- what happened after I fell? Did- is anyone dead?"
A foolish question, but Thorin knew the lives that concerned his nephew were few enough.
"The battle was very great, and all the orcs and goblins were driven back or killed. Erebor belongs to the dwarves, and we have made peace with elves and men, and with the hobbit. Our companions are safe, though a great many corpses lie still upon the field. And I too have been slain, though I have not yet stopped speaking."
From the sound of sharp movement in the darkness, Thorin knew Fili had understood.
"Thorin!"
"No, Fili, don't concern yourself with such things as cannot be changed. Be content to hear me out now. I owe you so many apologies, and I have such a little space of time to fill with them. And besides, you should rest. You yourself are not entirely unscathed."
Fili sagged, and even through the darkness of the tent Thorin could tell that he had drawn closer to his brother.
"You were right." He began. It seemed as good a start as any. "You belong with your brother. I am sorry that I ever believed otherwise."
"Time was pressing, Thorin. We could not all have waited. You had no-"
"No- no…" Thorin cut across his nephew's protest, but was taken by a fit of coughing before he could explain. Eventually, he managed;
"I meant to go beyond this last adventure. I have meddled in your lives for so long. I tried to make you grow apart from him. Your futures seemed so different- I thought that you might hold each other back. But now I begin to understand that you are not… whole when you are apart. And when you are together you are more than the sum of your parts."
Thorin's hands shook, and he pressed them to his lap, seeking a few minutes, a few moments more. To ask and know. Almost his nerve failed him, even now, but yet he spoke.
"Can you forgive a broken, foolish dwarf for all that he has cost you both?"
"Of course, Thorin!" There was no hesitation in Fili's answer. "How could I not? Thorin, you… you have been a better uncle… a better father, even, than you can know. We followed you here for a reason." His voice faltered, but he forced himself to finish. "We would have followed you further, if we could."
Thorin sighed, a frail sound that rattled in his chest. "I am indeed surrounded by kindness," he said. "I cannot believe that I have earned a third of the love that any of you give, or the smallest fraction of the loyalty. But I will gladly accept it, as I am fading from this world, and can hardly make myself more worthy of it now.
But let us have no talk of following me further. You must live, Fili. For the mountain's sake, but for Kili above all. You are better together. All the world apart from me has known it for longer than I care to think on, and now at last I see it too. I only pray that I have not left it too late. Too much has been lost to my folly already. Do not let your life be added to that list."
Fili swallowed the wad of emotion threatening to choke him, and stammered an answer.
"I- I will try, Thorin. I will."
"When Kili wakes, tell him… tell him.." Thorin's voice failed under the weight of words unspoken.
"Yes, uncle?"
Thorin was so still that for a moment Fili was afraid. Then he spoke, few words, but those he considered to surpass all others in importance.
"Tell him that he is a fine prince, and a true dwarf. And that I never loved him less."
"Yes, Uncle."
The tears were in full flood on Fili's cheeks now, but Thorin could not see them. They did not speak again. There was nothing left to say that was not already understood. At length, the silence was softened by Fili's snoring.
When he woke, Thorin was gone. He had slipped away in the night to the halls of his fathers, leaving behind an empty shell in his likeness, its stiffening fingers still cradling a lock of Kili's hair.
Oin had it carried away before the sun had even broken free of the horizon, but the chair remained. Kili woke in tears, weeping before anyone could tell him why, and clung to his brother. Fili held him just as close and promised, in his heart, not to die first. No matter what.