Summary: Fíli and Kíli have returned to the Ered Luin, but their wounds are still affecting their life, sometimes more, sometimes less.
This is the Sequel to "Alive", if you haven't read the story it's possible that this one will be a bit confusing, therefore I suggest to read the Prequel first. As it was with "Alive" this story too is a translation of a story I've originally written in my mother tongue. If you find spelling errors or grammatical mistakes it would be really helpful if you could tell me where exactly they are so that I can correct them.
By the time Kíli woke up on one morning, he knew that something wasn't right. Some weeks ago they'd arrived at Ered Luin and moved into their old home. Dust had covered the chambers, which had cost him and Fíli, – who had done his best to help Kíli with the cleaning, – a lot of time, until they were disposed of all the dirt. It was difficult to settle back in their old life, over the amount of time they had been gone. But somehow they succeeded. With their share of the treasure they didn't need to worry about work and their surviving, and so they performed only small tasks for now that they were able to achieve despite their injuries, just to find a new routine in their life.
But this morning something was different. Kíli had already felt it, before he opened his eyes. An uneasy pulling in his arm stump that he could feel to the point of his elbow. Kíli cursed. When would he finally stop thinking like that? He'd to quit seeing the pain like it belonged to his limb. He'd lost this arm, therefore he could feel nothing – nothing at all – in his non-existent elbow!
It was going to be an uncomfortable day, he realized suddenly. Almost the whole way back and, until now, the time in Ered Luin he'd lived without such sensations. So why would he feel now, of all times, this pulling? Indeed, Óin had told him before his departure, that even after the remission of the ache he'd to live through, it still could return spontaneously. However, he'd hoped to be spared from something like that. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes with his remaining hand and kneaded the base of his nose half-heartedly. Hopefully this unpleasant feeling would fade away during the day.
But, of course, this wasn't the case. The pulling remained and it felt so weird compared to the pain that had tormented him in Erebor and briefly even on the road, that he was unable of interpreting it. Like it was a bad omen and the more he concentrated on it, the more unpleasant it got. Fíli recognized it immediately, blindness aside, when Kíli rubbed over his stump time and time again at the breakfast table. His raised questions only got evasive answers form Kíli and afterwards he hurried to leave their quarter as soon as possible. He'd to run a few errands and hoped that movements and distraction would ease his suffering. Moments later he already shook his head fiercely. This wasn't suffering! He wasn't allowed to make such a fuss! It was only a tearing, a tearing that would soon abate.
But it didn't abate and once he reached the market the attention of the children followed him. Their parents avoided his appearance sheepishly with their eyes and tried not to stare, but it was hard to convey this in the heads of the little ones and so their glances dug blatantly in his back. At this place the glances were different, not disappointed, like they had been in Erebor, but only therefore no less annoying. According to this, he hurried up to work his list off as quickly as possible, although it was easier said than done with only one hand.
With a full basket he started his way back. The handle dug in an uncomfortable manner in his fingers and not for the first time he wished to have never lost an arm in the battle. But he was stubborn. Of course he could have put the basket down to get the feeling back in his fingers, but he was determined to prove that his life wasn't restricted. He could lead a fine life with only one arm, even if he'd to go without hunting and riding, there had to be other things he would be able to do just fine. Following this he endured the pain, when his fingers eventually started throbbing displeasingly and only put the basket down by the time he reached the front door of his home. Kíli hurried inside and strode to the pantry, where he started to fill the shelves bit by bit. He would need to visit the market again this week, after all there was only room for a specific amount of food in a basket.
Just as he lifted a small bag of flour, to put it away in one of the shelves, it slipped from his sluggish fingers. He tried to reach for it, could feel his shoulder moving, but the arm to grab the bag wasn't there anymore. With a dull sound the heavy sack met the cold stone floor and Kíli cursed angrily.
He had done it again. Again he had tried to use his left arm, although he knew that he had lost it months ago! When would his stupid head finally be able to grasp it?! Involuntarily he clenched his remaining fist. His muscles were constricting so much that they started to hurt.
"Kíli", Fílis voice cut through to him. Of course his brother had heard Kílis curse from his seat in the kitchen and stopped working immediately to join him, so he could make sure, that the younger one was alright.
Fíli moved so naturally in their home that he wasn't carrying his cane and Kíli couldn't even completely realize the loss of his arm!
Just as Fíli reached for him, after Kílis noisily and heavily breathes had revealed his position, the pulling in his stump changed into horrible agony. But the pain wasn't coming from the place of his scars. No, it felt like someone was digging a sharp knife into his elbow and moved it to ensure flesh and bones would be separated. Nothing could ease the pain, because his arm wasn't existing anymore. Fílis fingers brushed his shoulder and Kíli winced, his jaws were clenched, while the pain literally wrestled him down. Every fiber of his body seemed to be stretched to its breaking point, as if the lightest touch could unleash an inferno of agony in his insides. He stumbled some steps away from his brother, moaning in anguish. He'd started to sweat and tears were blurring his vision.
Oh Mahal, he wanted it to stop. Kíli had forgotten how much it could hurt. Unable to restrain the pain he clutched the stump of his arm frantically.
"Kíli", his brother said worriedly. But Kíli was barely able to hear him, too much agony covered his senses.
So he did the only thing that had always helped him so far: fight pain with pain. He raised his hand and punched the stone wall of the pantry. For one moment he could just feel the injury of his hand. Felt how the skin burst and how an agonizing throb shot through his fingers until they were shaking. He was barely able to suppress the groan that followed his action. But before he could hit the wall again Fílis arms entwined his upper body and yanked him coarsely backwards, obviously in the attempt to prevent him from doing it again. Kíli fought back instinctively, still fearing that every touch would chase torrid agony through his oversensitive nerves. They didn't fight long against each other. Both were panting grimly, their boots slipping over the stone floor while Kíli thought he would lose his mind through pain and captivity. Finally they lost their footing and fell to the ground, but still Kíli wasn't able to wriggle himself out of the hold of his brother.
"Stop it!", he heard the desperate cries of his brother, which slowly banished the deafness from his ears.
And Kíli had no choice but to do what Fíli demanded. In the meantime the sharp pain of his lost arm bombarded him mercilessly. His whole body convulsed, only an anguished groan escaped his throat.
"Try to take steady breathes", Fílis shaky voice whispered into his ear, so that he could feel the warm breathe of his brother at his cheek. "Breathe. In and out… in and out…"
With difficulty he found the strength to follow Fílis instructions, his lids were tightly shut and every breath of air interrupted by an agonized moan.
But what other option did he have? He wasn't able to free himself, something he would've done easily before the cursed battle. Now he couldn't do anything. He wasn't able to carry something and open a door at the same time. Cooking was equally problematic. He was barely able to button up his clothes. Without help he couldn't mount a pony. Every little moment of his daily routine was much too difficult. In Erebor these things were of no consequences, because everywhere had been servants, who had done such tasks for him. Kíli had drawn his attention to Fíli and had only taken care of his needs, whereby he now felt it for the first time. He regretted his return. His whole concentration had belonged to Fíli, so that Kíli never really thought about how he should live on with his injury. The result was devastating. Fíli found his way perfectly in their old environment whereas Kíli slowly despaired, while the urge to shout his frustration out grew inside him.
"Oh, Mahal, it was a mistake", he sobbed eventually, after the pain had finally vanished.
What had he been thinking? Then Erebor didn't feel like home, but at least his lost arm hadn't been a problem there, except for the stares of the other dwarves.
And his bow… Mahal, why hadn't he realized it sooner? It was over. Entirely. He was nothing without his weapon. With it he had earned respect from others and now? Every meaning he ever had for his folk was gone. He was a nothing. Here or in Erebor, it didn't matter. No one needed him. Failure, whispered a voice at the back of his mind.
"What? What was a mistake?", Fíli asked unsettled, while he intensified the hold around Kílis upper body and thereby hugged him tighter.
"We should never have come here", he sobbed.
His brother fell quiet when Kíli wasn't able to hold his tears back any longer and his desperation grew in the presence of Fílis silence. It seemed to be exactly the affirmation that he hoped his words wouldn't bring.
"We'll get through this together", Fíli breathed hoarsely. "Everything is going to be fine", he assured.
But Kíli didn't believe a word of it.