A.N:: So, first things first - apologies for leaving you all in the lurch! The story I was writing before under the same name underwent a complete overhaul with a new plot and characters to boot, hence the sudden call-off. I really hope you enjoy this one as much, if not more than the original! So, here goes! c:
All Khuzdul translations at the bottom of the chapter.
Fíli wasn't really sure what was happening. One minute, he'd been safely tucked up in the huge straw bed that he and Kíli shared, their mother gently coaxing them to sleep with now-familiar stories of the Lonely Mountain, and now he was being pulled onto a horse with his brother, his father shouting in his ear while pulling a thick, woollen cloak over the both of them.
"Da'-" Fíli wanted him to be quiet, he wanted to go back to bed – his warm bed - and snuggle up in cosy blankets with a fire roaring in the hearth and the musty smell of the mountains in the air.
But his nostrils were filled with the stench of smoke and burning flesh, his young eyes saw red and orange and amber in the flickering lights upon the mountain which was crumbling, breaking off and melting into the grey smoke. He saw floods of Dwarves – families - trying to forge a way through the crowds by any means; kicking and pulling and shoving as they went, faces pale and drawn with unmistakable fear.
Blood-curdling screams pierced sensitive ears and sent a shiver up Fíli's spine. The chilling sound was only drowned out by his own teeth chattering as he began to feel the harsh bite of the winter that was rolling in over Middle-Earth.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
It took a few moments for Fíli to piece everything together.
There was a fire, and fires meant ruin and destruction (or so he'd heard his Uncle Thorin say) and Fíli did not like the sound of that. Not one bit.
Fíli could smell the coppery tang of blood in the air – he'd come to know it all too well after getting into plenty of sticky situations, namely those involving his brother and the climbing of trees in the orchards – and then he started to make out shapes in the distance. At first, they looked like little more than shadows, but they moved in quick, lethal movements - too quick for the fleeing Dwarves.
Every so often, mangled limbs shot out from the indiscernible blackness, quick as lightning flashes, grabbing onto Dwarves and dragging them into the dark, kicking and screaming, but it was never long before the screams suddenly stopped.
Before Fíli could reach a solid conclusion, however, he felt the rough leather reins being thrust suddenly into his shaking fingers. Unconsciously, Fíli grabbed onto them as though they'd give him some sense of security, some protection from those scary shadows. They didn't, of course.
The beast below him began to move of its own accord, and Fíli wobbled dangerously as he clutched onto his screaming brother, head still swimming with incessant, babbling thoughts that he couldn't quell nor make sense of.
The only thing that broke through that barrage was this sudden silence. It was an empty silence. Empty, like something – or someone - was missing. And it was then that he realised he had not seen his Ma' since he was drifting into sleep hours ago, her voice on the edge of his waning awareness with Kíli snuffling and kicking beside him, being the annoying little brother he was meant to be.
"Ma'-?" Fíli blinked, eyes adjusting to the sudden dark as a group of torch-bearers suddenly moved away, not that he'd noticed their presence before, "Ma? Ma!"
His pleas remained unanswered, only amplified by Kíli's panicked cries.
Fíli whimpered, fisting a hand into his blanket as he tried to think. Da' wouldn't have left him alone with Kíli, not like this! He must have been hurt, or... or lost!
In his panic, Fíli only served to upset Kíli even more, and then: "Kíli, Kíli-" Valí appeared suddenly from the dark, reaching for Kíli. He calmed his youngest son with expert words and soothing motions, until Kíli was all but falling asleep in Fíli's arms, at which point Valí met Fíli's frightened stare with his own.
"Fíli! Ride for the halls of Moria, and do not stop. Find your Uncle. You hear me, inùdoy? Do not stop. Don't turn around, and don't look back. Don't look back!" Valí reached out and held his eldest son's face between leathered hands, his dark eyes glistened dangerously, but they did not leave Fíli's face.
"Promise me!"
Fíli didn't like the way his father's hands shook then, the way his eyes darted to and fro, the way his thin lips trembled and his neat braids unravelled. Faded tear tracks became apparent as dust from the black smoke clung to his father's worn skin, outlining the wear and tear of a lifetime spent in the forges.
"But where's Ma'?" Fíli whined, shaking his head free of Valí's grip. It scared him; it was too tight and not comforting in the least.
Valí's reaction to his words scared him more, though. He was sobbing, breaths coming in hard gasps as he struggled to breathe. Shaking hands clutched onto Fíli's own, and Valí said no more.
A sinking feeling settled in Fíli's gut and stayed there, and he felt like he was slipping down a deep, dark hole along with it. All the lights seemed to go out around him, like in his nightmares when he was lost in a gloomy forest somewhere with a gigantic wolf breathing down his neck.
Fíli drew himself up though, despite it all, and pulled his hands out of Valí's grip. As young as he was, Fíli wasn't entirely oblivious to the ways of the world, not with Thorin Oakenshield as his uncle.
And in that moment, he knew exactly where to go. But he knew exactly what he was leaving behind.
Hot tears stung at Fíli's eyes, and he quickly rubbed a rough hand across them, breathing in and wrapping one arm securely around his suddenly-quiet brother in front of him. Nodding, he could barely bring himself to look his Da' in the eye again.
"Promise." Fíli said, his voice unwavering.
Valí's eyes flashed with something akin to pride, then he kissed both his sons on their foreheads, pressed a smooth metal object into Fíli's hand and strapped a small dagger to Fíli's belt. Valí allowed himself one last, long look at both his sons, before stepping back and slapping the horse on the rump, the animal breaking off and forward into a gallop.
Barely a few seconds later, Fíli heard another spine-chilling scream not far behind him. Some small part of him was telling him to keep going, but he did exactly what Valí told him not to, and he looked back.
Fíli saw his Da' then, still looking at him, but he was on the ground now, kneeling where he'd stood. Fíli saw Valí's hands clutching at thin air helplessly, his throat was stained a garish red and rivers of blood snaked down his chest, beginning to pool in the dirt around him. His mouth hung agape, pale eyes unseeing. And then he slumped forward, still and grey as a stone.
Fíli's anguished scream was lost in the sounds of battle, and then he was disappearing into the thick forest that lined the foothills of Ered Luin.
Soon after, Fíli lost track of time and direction. Minutes stretched into hours. East turned into West. The moon became the sun. Mountains became Wilds.
He was lost.
"Fee-.. Fíli." He heard a whimper from below him, and looked down to his little brother, held securely in one aching arm that had carried him through the night. It stung Fíli to hear how pathetically weak Kíli sounded, like a frightened pup who'd wandered too far from home.
"Kíli." Fíli breathed, urging his aching legs to nudge the horse on, trying to ignore the huge distance between himself and the ground if he was to fall now, "M'here, Kee-"
"Mama..?" Kíli moaned, the sound caught somewhere between a sob and a whine. Fíli did not answer. What would he say? That their home had likely been burnt to the ground, and that they would never see their mother's brilliant grin or hear their father's rumbling laugh again? That all Kíli's favourite toys had gone up in smoke and there was no hero to save the day like there always had been in the tales that Thorin told them?
No. Hope was lost in the ashes of Ered Luin now, and Fíli could not answer.
So he remained silent for the rest of the day. They did not stop. They did not falter. Fíli did not look back again.
Khuzdul: (for most of these words, they loosely translate - I had no Khuzdul boffin on hand, only a dictionary!)
inùdoy - son