A/N: I'm a glutton for punishment and am head-over-heels with Battle of the Five Armies feels even though the movie isn't out yet.
I own nothing but the ocean of tears I have wept/will weep/am weeping.
For a moment, just when the blade goes in, it isn't cold anymore.
There is filth and ice and blood mingling on the hardened ground, and his hands have long been numb around the hilt of his sword, and perhaps that's why he wasn't quite quick enough—
But overarching the pain, in a flash of something he cannot quite define, he sees sunlight.
Golden, like his brother's hair, and he remembers—
They were laughing as they ran through the fields, and he puffs out a breath, calling to Fili to wait—he is much smaller, still, and he cannot run as fast—
They lie on the grass and Fili helps him count the mountains—shadowed even on a summer's day. It is the day before his birthday, and Uncle will come tomorrow.
Uncle always comes.
Fili—
But the pain comes then and the warmth is his blood, dark on the ground. He is falling—they are all falling—and he is only here, only dying because he saw his brother with three arrows in his side—
The moments are very long and too soon over, and Kili holds onto his brother because he cannot run as fast—
Fili comforts and promises as he always does, and Kili is grateful even though he knows it is the end.
They do not count the mountains because there is only one here that matters, only one whose shadow was over them all—
And Kili feels the field beneath his feet, and he would call to his brother if he could, for they are running, running, running—
But there is no sunlight here.