Guys... I am about to whump the Little Lion. Big time. For no good reason. And I am going to make him cry. If you have any issues with a certain cute little blond dwarf being in a world of pain, you might want to stop reading now.

I basically got the idea from the book, where one of the ponies ran into the river and "Fili and Kili were nearly drowned" trying to get it out. Yeah. You can see where this is going.

For Kili fans, sorry, there isn't much Kili here. This is mostly a Fili & Thorin story.

DISCLAIMER: I own absolutely nothing. NOTHING.

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His arms are aching, his fingertips are burning. His head hurts. The ribs on his left side are on fire. He's freezing – a deep, aching cold that reaches all the way down to his bones. He can't remember ever being warm, doesn't know if he'll ever be warm again. He's never been in this much pain in his life. Maybe he'll die here.

He's lost track of time, doesn't know how long he's been clinging to this rock in the middle of the raging, ice-cold river. His foot is still trapped in something under the water, he hasn't been able to move it an inch. Rain pounds down from above, water crushes him into the rock from behind. His teeth are chattering, his numb fingers want to let go so bad.

Don't let go. They'll come. They'll come.

But it's been hours, it must have been. It seems like days ago that he and Kili stepped into the river to pull Myrtle out, though night has not yet fallen. And the river had been too strong, and they'd both been swept away... Fili had tried to grip half a dozen rocks – and hit his head on one - before finally managing to grab onto a large tree root near the side.

He'd watched, clinging on for dear life, trying to keep his head above the water, as Dwalin had heaved his brother out of the water some twenty feet from where he was holding on, and then – just as Dwalin and the others headed for him, he'd lost his grip on the slippery wood and been dragged on down the stream. What felt like ages later he'd crashed into this rock he's on now – hence the aching ribs – and while trying desperately to climb out of the water, he'd somehow got his foot stuck in what he guesses must be tree roots below. And he's been clinging here ever since.

There's nothing moving on the river bank, he's sure of it. His uncle and his brother and the rest of the Company are not there. He has no way of knowing how far he was carried down the river.

A thousand terrifying thoughts swirl through his mind as his teeth chatter pitifully in the background.

Why have they not come? I couldn't have been swept that far downstream. Maybe I was. I'm so cold. What if they can't find me? What if I slip off and then I go even further down the stream and then they never find me? What if... what if they gave up? What if they think I'm dead?

He imagines the Company going on without him, Thorin – sad but stoic – in the lead, Kili sobbing silently at the back. The thought of Kili alone is worse than the thought of himself slipping off this rock and drowning. Hang on Fili. He imagines them going on to the Lonely Mountain, finding all that forgotten gold Thorin's so determined to find, Thorin being returned to his throne and Erebor restored as the greatest kingdom in Middle-earth. All the amazing adventures they'll have there that he'll never be part of.

We've barely started this journey and already I'm going to die. I never imagined it would be like this. I don't want to die yet.

For the first time since they set off on this journey, he feels just how young he really is. He and Kili had spent months trying to prove to their uncle that they were old enough to join the company and take back Erebor, and now he can only think of how much he has never done, how much he never will do. All the wonders of Middle-earth Thorin has told him about and he will never see.

Tears prickle at his eyes, but he clenches his jaw and holds them back. I won't cry. All the same, he longs for the safety of his uncle's protective arms, the comfort of Kili's constant presence at his side.

Oddly, a memory that is quite a few years old comes back to him – crying into his uncle's shoulder because he wasn't as good of an archer as Kili. It had been the first time Kili was better at something than him – more than that, it had been the first time either of them was different in their fighting skills at all. At the time, it had seemed like the end of the world for some reason.

For days and days he and Kili had gone out to the range, and day after day Fili had tried as hard as he could to be as good as Kili, and it just was not happening. Kili had never, ever mocked him in any way, but in some ways that was worse. Kili's gentle "Maybe tomorrow"s every time he threw down the bow in frustration had only made things worse. If Kili had laughed, he could have been mad. As it was, he just felt stupid.

"Why is Kili a better archer than me?" Fili had asked his uncle, fighting valiantly to keep down the tears that had been threatening for all of those last few frustrating days.

Thorin – who had been preparing to leave on some journey, Fili can't remember what for – had barely looked at him as he saddled his pony. "He's probably not. You just need practice."

Frustrated with everything, Fili had thrown down his stupid, stupid bow and raised his voice. "All I have been doing for the past week is practicing! I am not getting any better. And Kili has been using a bow for the same amount of time as me and he shoots it dead center every time. I'm so useless, Uncle. I can't do anything!"

Thorin had turned in surprise at his nephew's sudden outburst, his blue eyes narrowing. "Fili, calm yourself. Now is not the time. Perhaps you can ask Dwalin for lessons. I must be off."

Fili well remembers the impatient look on his uncle's face – and how at the time – so full of self-loathing as he was - he'd read it as disgust, and it had just been too much. He'd lost his battle with the tears, and a moment later he was just standing in front of his uncle and crying, feeling more pathetic and ashamed than he ever had before in his life.

There had been a few long moments of silence, the only sound Fili's sad, quavering little sobs, and then suddenly strong arms had wrapped around him and his uncle's strong, gentle hand was on the back of his head, pressing Fili's face to his shoulder.

"Don't cry, Fili. It doesn't matter. You will find your weapon. And when you do, Kili will be wishing he could be as good with it as you."

He wasn't totally sure he believed his uncle, he'd felt so useless right then – What if I'm never good with any weapon? - but the words had comforted him anyway, and he had leaned a little more on Thorin and settled into the comfort of his uncle's embrace. Even after Thorin let go of him, he had stayed with Fili for a while, made sure he really was alright, before he left on his errand. His uncle's attention and concern during that fragile moment had meant the world.

Of course, only weeks later, he'd discovered he was excellent with a blade – and exceptional with two. And the whole bow thing hadn't mattered one bit anymore.

Now as he clings to that rock, in the middle of that freezing, rushing river, he wonders if he will ever see his uncle or his brother ever again. His head throbs where it hit the rock, and he wonders vaguely if it's bleeding. There's no way he can take either of his hands off the rock to check. The thought of slipping under the water and being unable to get back up is terrifying.

Where are they?

Night falls slowly but steadily, and the grey world around him darkens further. There is a blood red stain on the horizon, just visible through the trees. He watches it desperately, knowing that when it is gone, he will be in the pitch black. All alone.

He's lost the feeling in his fingers now, and his arms and neck are cramping painfully in the cold. The ache in his ribs is disappearing, but not in a good way – numbness is gradually spreading over his entire body, and it's becoming harder and harder to breathe. His lungs don't want to expand anymore. The river is constantly trying to pull him down under, and he is slowly losing the battle to stay above.

I'm going to die here.

He can't see any other outcome to this situation anymore.

I'll either freeze to death, or drown. It's inevitable.

And yet he still clings to the rock, and he still clings to hope.

Times passes on. It's getting hard to keep his eyes open. His left hand slips on the rock, sharp pain bringing him back to full consciousness with a jolt, and that's when he sees it – a light on the riverbank, small but bright in the blackness of the night. It's bobbing a little, moving slowly closer, and Fili's heart leaps into his throat.

They're here!

He tries to shout, cry for help, but as soon as he draws in breath to shout a flash of pain shoots through his ribs, and nothing comes out but a pathetic little whimper.

The light comes closer, he can make out the outline of someone – definitely a Dwarf! – and it hesitates there, higher up than before as though the one carrying it is lifting it up to see better.

Fili tries to call again, but his lungs are exhausted and sore and they've had enough. It doesn't feel as if there's enough air in his body to make any sound at all, but he manages a whimper again, his teeth chattering loudly. The light swings to the side, and Fili can suddenly make out Gloin's profile. And then Gloin starts heading further down the river.

Panic floods him. Tears of frustration fill his eyes, he yanks fruitlessly at his trapped foot. Gloin is almost gone. He tries again, forcing his aching lungs and ribs to expand, whimpering - and then

"Help!"

He's shocked at the power of his own voice. It's rough and feels like sandpaper, but it was loud, even over the rushing water. Gloin turns back, comes closer to the water's edge.

"Fili?" The older dwarf sounds uncertain, his voice is quiet.

"I'm here," Fili wails, fighting against the agony, forcing his voice louder. Please, please see me!

"Fili?" Gloin holds the torch even higher, and suddenly his whole stance changes. "Fili! Oh, thank – Dwalin! I found him!"

Fili sags against the rock, too exhausted to even cry.

Gloin, laughing in relief, keeps calling encouraging things from the bank. "We've got you laddie! It's okay! Dwalin's on his way. Won't be long! Keep your head up!"

Another dark shape appears next to him, by the hat Fili can tell it's Bofur. He can vaguely hear their conversation over the river rushing past his ears.

"Are you sure it's him?" Bofur.

"Of course I'm sure," Gloin growls. "I heard the lad shout! And you can see him, just there – see his hair?"

"Maybe."

Gloin's angry huff is in no way hard to hear. "It is him, you fool. Dwalin's gone to fetch him, then you'll see."

But Dwalin seems to be taking forever to get there.

If I never see water again I will be the happiest dwarf in all of Middle-earth.

Fili leans his sore head on the rock and waits.

And then suddenly Dwalin is there, right above him on the rocks, a torch in hand. "Fili! Durin's name, laddie. We thought we'd lost you!"

He doesn't wait for a reply, he just crouches down, grips Fili's arm and pulls. The young Dwarf yelps in pain, and Dwalin almost lets him go, catching his sleeve at the last moment before Fili slips.

"What? Are you hurt Fili? Speak, lad!"

Fili swallows hard, trying to find the breath to speak. The torch light is too bright, his head hurts just looking near it.

"I – I'm stuck," he half-sobs, looking up desperately at the warrior's familiar face.

"How are you stuck?" Dwalin puts down the torch, leans closer. "What's stuck, laddie?"

"My f-foot." Fili wants so bad to be out of the water, so bad to go and see his uncle and his brother, so bad to be warm and dry and comforted.

Dwalin growls a curse under his breath, and then he sits down on the edge of the rock as though preparing to jump into the river.

"D-don't!" Fili almost lets go of the rock in his panic. "You'll – you'll..." He can't get the words out.

Dwalin laughs, a rough, unexpected sound, and Fili jumps. "Laddie, it'll take a lot more than a river to take me down, trust me."

And he jumps right in a little ways away from Fili, and wades over confidently as though the rushing water is nothing. The large Dwarf pats him on the shoulder roughly, a wry smile twisting his mouth.

"You look like a wet lion. Poor lad. Which foot is it?"

"R-right," Fili whispers. "Dwalin I'm – I'm so tired."

"It's alright laddie. I'll have you out of here in no time."

Dwalin ducks under the water, and a few seconds later Fili feels the older dwarf's strong hands gently but firmly manipulating his foot from between the tree roots. His ankle is immediately shot through with pain, he whimpers out loud even as Dwalin comes back to the surface.

"Nothing to it, laddie." He lifts himself out of the water easily, climbs back around to the top of the rock, and gently takes Fili's upper arms. "You can let go now Fili."

Fili isn't sure he'd have been able to pry his fingers off the rock himself – they've been holding on so long - but Dwalin just lifts him from the water with what seems like hardly any effort, and then he is laying on the rocks and he is out of the water and he is so beyond cold he's not sure there's even a word for it anymore. His gasping breath rises in white clouds into the night air above him.

Dwalin lifts his torch up high and looks back toward the opposite bank. "I've got him boys!"

A couple of joyful shouts echo through the still night air. "We'll tell Thorin!"

At the mention of his uncle's name Fili tries to lift himself up, desperate to get back to Thorin and Kili. His ribs protest immediately, white hot pain shooting all down his left side. He cries out, curling in on himself, and Dwalin's hand comes to rest on his shoulder.

"Where're you hurt, laddie? Tell me."

He can't answer. Every fiber of his being is screaming in pain – if there were a knife sticking out of his side at this moment, he would not be surprised.

"Fili?" Dwalin's voice sounds very far away, and considerably worried.

Fili breathes hard through his nose, willing the pain to back off. There is something very, very wrong with his side. He tries to tell Dwalin, he really does, but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper.

Dwalin, however, seems to understand and gently pulls Fili's arm from around his body. "Is it your ribs, lad?"

Fili nods, his teeth clenched hard against wayward whimpers, his head pounds steadily along with his rapid heartbeat. His teeth are chattering so hard now there's no point in even trying to stop them.

Dwalin is silent for a few minutes, as though trying to make a decision, but before he can speak again Bofur shouts from the opposite bank.

"Dwalin! Are you coming? We have told Thorin and he is on his way!"

Thorin, I need Thorin. Fili tries to sit up, but Dwalin is holding him down with one hand.

"Lie still, lad."

To the dwarves on the opposite bank, he calls back "I don't know if I should move him. He might have some broken bones. Doubt he can walk, either. Maybe we should stay here the night, and in the day light when we can see the rocks better we'll come back."

"I can walk!" Fili rasps desperately, struggling in vain against Dwalin's hold. "P-please, I can w-walk."

The thought of staying here all night fills him with panic. He just wants to get away from this spot and never see it again, no matter how much pain it causes him in the process. He tries to push Dwalin's arm away from him, tries to show some authority, and instead ends up yelping in pain as the motion shoots pain through both his sore ribs and his bloody hands.

Dwalin looks down at him pityingly. "Fili, stop."

"Where is he? Where is Fili?"

This voice he knows better than any other in the world, besides Kili's. This voice manages to be effortlessly heard above the rushing water, Dwalin's voice, the pounding blood in his ears, everything. Thorin.

"Where is my nephew?" Thorin sounds both angry and desperate, a common tone to hear when he has been scared.

"Over here," Dwalin calls above him. "Thorin, I think he may have broken at least one of his ribs, and he's got a head wound and possibly a twisted ankle. Perhaps we should wait for the sunrise before moving him."

Thorin is silent for a moment, and Fili can't stand it. I need him. "U-Uncle," he tries to raise his voice loud enough to be heard, but it's so quiet and it hurts so much to talk.

Dwalin shushes him, but Thorin has heard him. "Fili! Mahal, it is good to hear your voice!"

Fili marvels at the fact that Thorin heard his tiny voice over all this noise, and he longs for the safety of his uncle's comforting embrace. He is getting colder and colder out here on this rock, drenched clothes chilling him to his very bones. His head aches, and although his ribs have quieted to a dull throb, he knows as soon as he moves the pain will come back full force. He whimpers softly, struggling against the pain and cold and Dwalin's restraining hand.

"I think we should stay here tonight," Dwalin calls again. "I will build a fire, we will be perfectly safe. I do not think it is a good idea to..."

Fili doesn't hear the end of Dwalin's sentence. Dwalin is going to convince his uncle, and he is going to have stay here in this world of pain and suffering for a whole night before he can return to his family. Dwalin is a very old and trusted friend, but he has never been much for comforting, and comfort is what Fili is longing for right now. Tears of frustration and exhaustion well in his eyes, and using all his strength he shoves Dwalin's hand off his shoulder.

The older dwarf looks down at him in surprise, his expression a cross between concern and irritation.

Fili pants at the exertion, willing himself to breathe past the pain, but it is too much and his tears finally overwhelm him.

"...m-my uncle," he sobs. "P-p-please. I w-want m-my uncle!"

He is vaguely aware that he would be wildly ashamed to be speaking like this - like a tiny dwarfling – at any other time, but right now he has forgotten that he is the heir to the throne, forgotten that he is expected to act like royalty at all times. All that matters is that he find a way to get to his uncle, because it is his uncle who has always comforted him before, ever since his father died, and it his uncle he needs now. He lays curled on his side, one arm wrapped around his ribs – which have gone beyond painful now into something there is no word for – and sobs into his forearm, every ragged breath accompanied by a whimper of agony.

It seems that for a long time there is nothing said, but Fili hears Dwalin sigh next to him, and then he hears Thorin's voice, low and calm. Gone is the desperation and anger from a few moments ago.

"Fili, do not cry. You will not be spending the night there. Dwalin, please bring my nephew to me."

Dwalin sighs again. "Thorin, it will not be that easy. His injuries..."

"Then carry him," Thorin interrupts, his voice still calm. "Or I will come and get him myself."

Dwalin does not argue any more, instead he leans down and gently pushes Fili onto his back.

"This will be painful, lad. I hope you are ready for it." He does not wait for an answer, instead gently sliding his right arm under Fili's shoulders, and his left under the young dwarf's knees. "Here we go."

He stands, and Fili howls in pain, for the first time knowing for certain that he has broken ribs – he can feel the jagged edges of them shifting against each other as his body is moved. He gasps for air, black spots dancing in front of his eyes, hot pain spreading steadily down his side. Dwalin does not apologize, he simply continues to fulfill his duty.

"I will need light," he calls, and within moments the night brightens around them as torches are lit.

Fili cannot see where Dwalin is carrying him to, nor can he see what Dwalin must walk on to get him there. He clings to the warrior and keeps his eyes closed, willing the pain to retreat, willing himself to be strong.

It seems to take a very long time to cross the river, and the water gets louder sometimes, and sometimes the steps Dwalin takes jar him so much he can't help but cry out, and the older dwarf curses fluently under his breath – Fili is sure sometimes he hears his uncle's name amongst those curses, and it would be funny any other time to hear Dwalin complaining about his proud and willful uncle but now it barely registers.

And then quite abruptly the voices of the company are so near, and Dwalin sets him gently onto the ground and it is soft earth underneath him, not rock, but it doesn't matter because it all hurts anyway and then suddenly Thorin is there. Fili senses him more than sees him, after all his eyes are half shut in misery, but he is there and strong, familiar hands smooth back his wet hair, Thorin's forehead touches his gently and Fili abruptly begins to cry again because it seems that is all he is capable of doing lately and he wishes his uncle would hold him, tell him it is all okay and banish the never ending pain with a single word.

Thorin gently squeezes his arm with one hand, the other rests on Fili's chest. "My brave Fili," he says quietly.

Fili forces his eyes open, looks up into Thorin's sad, proud face and tries to be the brave dwarf his uncle is speaking of, but still the tears flow.

Thorin reaches out then and gathers Fili into his arms, and somehow he knows exactly how to hold him so that the pain does not get any worse, and Fili finds the strength to cling to his uncle's fur jacket as hard as he can, his hands trembling at the effort but desperately needing something to hold onto.

Thorin's hand is on the back of his head then, gently holding Fili to him, and Fili breaks down completely, sobbing openly against Thorin's shoulder, the familiar fur soft against his face as he clings there helplessly, finally safe in his uncle's arms.

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Good? Bad? Ugly? I know, I am awfully mean. xD Please leave me a review and let me know your thoughts. :)

I am also thinking of writing a second chapter which would deal with Fili being taken back to camp and just tons and tons of shameless hurt/comfort while he is warmed up and Oin looks after his injuries - and obviously Kili would show up too. Thoughts?