Fili had stopped him before they entered the tower; it would be a long time before Kili would forget the way his brother's hand had landed on him, and pulled him from the doorway.

"Kili, I'll go first," said Fili. Kili frowned.

"What are you talking about? My eyes are sharper than yours, I should go first," Kili argued.

"You're still slow on that leg, though," Fili had stated simply, eyes darting to his younger brother's arrow wound hidden beneath layers of fabric. "Now quiet. And remember what Thorin said. Do not engage."

Kili thought Fili was hardly being fair. Not an hour ago they had fought through an army of orcs to reach the peak of Ravenhill, and if Kili had been keeping track properly, he'd managed to make five more kills than Fili. But he nodded in agreement and they entered the crumbling tower, Fili in the lead, and Kili after.

Kili followed his brother as they crept through the darkened hall of stone. The walls sheltered him from the howling wind outside; still the old stone seemed to suck away his heat more fiercely than the mists on the icy cliffs. His senses were alive and crackling, and his heart still pounded from the thunder of the battle below.

He smelled none of the fetid stench of orc, only ice and rock. No darting shapes caught his eyes. No scraping, murmuring, howling or clanging caught his ear. They cleared another corridor and found now clue. Still, they must be up here, hiding in this tower. And yet there was no sign of them.

The came around a corner, and Fili nodded towards the dim staircase at the end of the corridor. Fili elbowed Kili in the ribs, silently gesturing to a streak of white slush that must have been tracked in by an orcish foot.

Up there, Fili's eyes said. Fili gripped his sword and led them forward. Kili followed his brother with a grimace and a tight grip on his sword. The top of the staircase led them up into a narrow corridor. Kili noticed that Fili was treading more carefully than usual to avoid making noise, and Kili quickly adopted Fili's stance. He strained his ears.

And then he heard it. Or had he? He'd heard something. Kili looked wildly up and down the corridor, not yet certain. And something clanged.

Azog and his scum were in the tower! And so close! Kili gritted his teeth, raised his sword and quickly strode forward. Or he would have, if Fili's hand, for a second time, didn't fall on his chest to block him.

"Stay here," Fili insisted, meeting his eye. "Search the lower levels."

Kili stared at his older brother, but Fili turned his gaze towards the dark hall where the noise had come from.

"I've got this," he said, his voice calm and steady.

Kili still stared. He felt the unease in his stomach grow. You should not be apart, said a small voice in his head. Was Fili really doubting him so much over his leg? But that was almost healed! You fight together. Yet Fili sounded so sure. But you are not here to fight at all, he remembered, only to scout.

Kili nodded, casting Fili one more look. Fili gazed ahead with a centered stillness, a surety. Kili tore off to the stairs and descending to the lower halls.

He emerged in another dark and winding passageway. Kili had good eyesight. He could shoot down a deer by moonlight, and he could see well enough in this dim passageway. Still, the shadows of the tower seemed to close in on him in Fili's absence. He thought to abandon this task and rejoin his brother; dwarves were always stronger fighting together than apart. But against his gut, he pressed on.

Is this really about my leg wound?, Kili wondered.

When Thorin told him that he must stay behind in Lake-town, Kili felt betrayed, as if were no more than worthless burden to be cast aside.

That feeling had lingered, festering in him as his wound spread into a fever, engulfing his head. As he lay in bed in the bargeman's little wooden house, writhing with fever, images of Thorin's face had swam before his eyes.

"Not you... you will slow us down."

The words had stung.

Hadn't he more than proven himself on this quest? Thorin had pressed on through his injuries after fighting Azog and the wargs, so why not himKili He was of Thorin's blood, after all. His bow was always at the ready for his uncle's command, and where Thorin commanded, the arrows never missed their mark. And was it not he who'd taken an arrow wound to free the company from the halls of Mirkwood?

But that arrow hadn't earned him any honor. It had earned him the status of a burden. He felt small, like a shell within a shell as his fever raged, dragging him down into a dark, spiraling hole where shadows whispered and white, sinister lights flashed in and out of his vision.

And there, in the dark, he wandered, aimlessly, wraithlike, full of despair and rage. The lights swarmed at him, taunting him, and he slashed at them with wild arms. Until, suddenly, the blackness gave way to a soft gray, like a fine rain on an early morning, and a gentle yellow light, different from the harsh, taunting lights, had appeared. Something like a bird song hovered in the air. The soft light grew and grew. The gray slowly took on other hues and lines. Kili slowly came back into himself.

The first thing he'd noticed was her.

Oh.

Her. What?

No. It couldn't be, definitely not.

And yet, impossibly, it was. While at the same time, entirely unlike the fierce red-haired elf called Tauriel with the wry smile. This being before him wore her face, and yet she was far too beautiful to be her. She radiated. Quite literally. So, it was a dream.

The second thing he noticed was his brother's arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. The third thing he noticed was that he was on a table. That was odd

At last, the pain receded. Kili's breathing eased, and he dropped into the gentle blue of sleep.

When he came to again, he thought he must be dreaming, for the elf was still there, bandaging his leg. And yet she could not be. Tauriel was far away in the halls of the elvenking.

His body was exhausted, but the sting of the poison had greatly lessened; though his mind immediately grasped for the well-trod anguish over Thorin's words, that pain, too, seemed distant now, unintelligible, like letters written long ago in another language.

Yet now, there was something else there in its place, as she stood above him now, fussing over the bandage, face soft like snow and hard like marble at the same time. It was a powerful yearning Kili had never known before, and he felt at once more whole and yet more achingly desperate than he could ever remember. As her hand brushed against his, and he felt a deep jolt deep within his tired body, so precious and exhilarating that Kili was almost embarrassed by it.

Much later, after Smaug's body tumbled from sky to lake, after parting with Tauriel, Kili trailed behind Fili, followed by Bofur and Oin as they made their way up the slopes towards Dale and the gates of Erebor.

"How's the leg, brother?" Fili said to him. "Say something if you need to rest."

"It's fine, I can walk," said Kili, disgruntled.

"No reason to put on a brave face, lad," scolded Oin, ambling a few paces behind him. "That's what got you into trouble in the first place. I hope you learned your lesson, hiding the severity of a wound like that!"

Kili grumbled, but in truth, he was fighting to hide the irrepressible grin that kept creeping back onto his face. It was a curious thing, and remarkable through the pain, exhaustion and uncertainly gripping the party, (and not to mention the worry Kili felt towards Thorin and the rest of the company).

Tauriel had not come with him. But she had accepted his token and smiled at him, and held his hand. And she had come for him in Lake-town, after all. What had that meant? It was thrilling to think about her sharp eyes meeting his. He had to bite back his tongue from saying her name aloud just for the joy of it.

They continued for a few minutes. Fili glanced back at his younger brother, frowning every time he stumbled.

"You know," said Fili suddenly, "I think we could all use a bit of food. We haven't rested yet, and we've still a long march ahead. Bofur, you managed to secure some rations?"

"Aye, but just a few scraps of bread," piped up Bofur. "I'm afraid the old market of Lake-town is a bit, well, run down these days."

"Well done, Bofur," said Fili, "Let's rest for a few minutes. Get our strength back."

Fili threw Kili and almost imperceptible glance. Kili nodded.

Kili knew his brother's game. He was a little embarrassed, but still he was grateful for the chance to get off his feet and stretch out his wounded leg. He settled down with his back against a boulder, and sighed as his aching muscles finally relaxed. He felt a little lightheaded.

Fili dropped to the ground next to him, holding a rather sad and stale looking roll. Fili tore off half and passed it (the bigger half, Kili noted) to him. Kili wolfed it down, for he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. Fili chewed his half more slowly.

The brothers sat in silence for a while, side by side, staring at the pillars of smoke rising from the ruins of Lake-town below. Tiny dots moved along the lake shore, and dark splotches of brown signified that more makeshift tents had been put up since the dwarves had departed that morning. Oin and Bofur sat a little ways down the slope, fussing with repacking their hastily assembled supplies.

"We should arrive at Dale well before nightfall," said Fili. "We are making good time."

"What do you think we'll find up there?" said Kili. His voice wavered as he asked it.

That morning, Fili had been eager to leave the camp of the Lake-men as soon as possible and quickly rallied Oin and Bofur into action, scrounging what supplies they could from wreckage washed upon the shore. His reasoning was that once the men had regrouped from the terror of the night before, they wouldn't take too kindly to dwarves in their camp, for they had suffered many losses by the arrival of Thorin's company.

Fili and Kili had one winter, long ago, witnessed an ugly riot in a town of men near Ered Luin when the crops had failed and food was scarce. They'd learned about the wrath of hungry and tired masses and knew to avoid being on the brunt end of it if at all possible.

This was true enough, and with the stink of death and fear in the air, it was only a matter of time before the men reared together and took out all that fear on someone. Fili, Kili, Oin and Bofur would be all too obvious candidates, for everyone in town had seen them and knew that the dwarves had woken the beast, nevermind that it was Thorin, not the four of them, who had anything to do with Smaug.

The unspoken reason for the hurry, however, was that Thorin, Dwalin, Balin and the rest of the company may very well have perished during Smaug's rampage, and that was an uncertainty they wished to bear no longer than necessary. Bofur and Oin, too, had brothers up in the mountain, and the tension among the party was as palpable as their exhaustion.

Kili sighed and sipped some water from his skin.

"Fili, do you think Thorin...?"

"Thorin'll be there," said Fili, "I'm sure of it. And Bilbo. And Gloin and Dwalin. Bombur, too. I bet Bombur is cooking us up a fine feast as we speak."

"We better get there fast or Bombur won't spare us a mouthful."

This got a chuckle out of Fili.

Fili padded his pockets with his hands. Not finding what he sought, he sighed, a shadow fell over his eyes and Fili suddenly looked as exhausted as Kili felt.

"I could really use a smoke after all this, but it seems my pipe is good and lost by now."

"Mine, too," said Kili. "I haven't seen it since we escaped Mirkwood." And got myself shot in the leg.

"Terrible business down there," Fili said, nodding to the ashen remains of the town. "Still, Thorin was looking out for you, more than I was, even. You wouldn't have survived this march a day ago, had I carried you or not. Thorin was only doing what he thought was right, and I can bet you it didn't sit well with him to leave you behind."

Kili didn't answer. The weariness in Fili's voice made him want to squirm, but Kili understood. Fili was right. He'd been so drowned in feelings of betrayal earlier he had never considered that Thorin's decision might have been born of anything other than selfishness. He felt a twinge of shame for the anger harbored towards his uncle. Had Thorin allowed him to come, he would never have stayed in Lake-town. He'd have died on these slopes instead. Or in the mountain.

"Kili," said Fili slowly, swallowing his last bite of bread, "You'll try to remember that? When we see him."

"Yes. I know Thorin was right," muttered Kili. "I'm not angry with him," Kili assured his brother.

"Well that's a relief. I could use a little less blockheadedness and a little more merriment. And I'm sure there will be plenty of that once we reach Erebor!"

In the fortress of Ravenhill, Kili continued along the passageway on in the bottom of the tower, his heart hammering in his chest, wishing he could just go and rejoin his brother already. He cleared every door carefully, though each hall and room beyond appeared empty. It seemed that no orcs hid in the lower levels. He supposed that information was as good as any.

Kili followed the passageway to its end, where it broadened and filled with daylight. He emerged on the ledge, casting a careful eye onto the mountain top below, searching for black shapes slinking through the mist. But the mountaintop was a blanket of white, silent and empty.

A knot tightened in his stomach inexplicably. Kili took a steadying breath and ignored it.

So, what now? If the orcs were in the upper levels, Fili would have spotted their positions and numbers by now. He must already be on his way back to the entrance. Kili quickly resolved to go meet him there. They would regroup with Thorin and Dwalin and go from there.

But before he could turn to dart back through the passage, he heard the drums.