Sleeping felt like even less of an option, but the only one his Ma would let fly as long as he was in the Kwiet Room. If she came in to check on him now, she'd find him throwing a Koosh ball up at the ceiling and he'd get quite the earful. About how he was supposed to be resting against the restlessness the room alone brought out of him; about how he was putting himself at risk when he put his body through the strain of… tossing a Koosh ball?

Everything he'd already heard and after thirteen years, if it hadn't sunk in already, she knew it wasn't likely to change –and yet she kept trying. Why? "Because you're my baby boy," she'd say, bringing a sheet back up around his shoulders as if to swaddle him like he actually was a baby she was desperately trying to get to sleep.

But today the Kwiet Room was particularly stifling. The most immediate reason, and most physically distressing, was the light. A warm familiar sunbeam shone through the open window, bypassing the glass directly to the bed up against the same wall. The blinds were up and out of the way. Kili usually enjoyed the sunlight but it was at such an angle this afternoon that, no matter how he moved along the head of the bed it shone right in his eyes. He winced against the direct brightness and tossed the rubber thing back up into the air. He thought for a moment about throwing it out the window, but it was too far from the patio at this end of the house. It wouldn't hit anyone in the head and that took the fun out of it.

He huffed as he was reminded of the worst of his stay today. Everyone was here and all about the house, getting ready for the surprise party, and the surprise of which he probably wouldn't be able to take part in.

"You'll be out of here at five," Ma had promised when his protests that morning had been particularly vehement. "Fili won't be home until five-thirty."

But he knew his brother better than anyone did, even their mother. And after not seeing his family for months, away at school, surely he'd be here much earlier than he'd said –to surprise them, unaware of their intentions to surprise him. It seemed stupid to the younger one and even more stupid that he couldn't be the first one to see his brother home.

He was left alone all day, aside from the irregular check-ins from his mother. She was amazingly shameless with family and friends about the daily situations, and as people had arrived to help with the party she first made sure everyone knew that while they'd be working to welcome her oldest son home, the youngest of two was "sick in isolation" and "to be left alone." His uncle said that's how it always went, whenever Kili was unwell and company was over. He took Thorin's word for it, with little other choice.

"Why can't someone just break the rules for once?" But the others weren't willing to instill his mother's anger or agitate his illness. Nobody called, nobody came. He kept looking out the window to see if anyone had snuck away and he could call out to them. Ori had been lingering nearby a few hours ago, struggling to make himself of use at decorating the yard –Kili had tried to call out to his friend, but his voice was hoarse after the argument that morning and then disuse, and his words didn't reach his tutor's ears.

"I'm not that sick."

He watched the clock when his toy fell too far out of reach. He took a sip of water and the green numbers made out 4:27. He'd been counting the hours since nine, and the minutes since three. Too long, he thought. Still too long and no one around.

"I'm not contagious!" he called out to no one, smirking to himself –that should get someone's attention, even if his ma's and the kind of attention he didn't usually want.

There was a pause, but he heard muffled voices: someone was hesitant to join him. He almost wanted to call out and coax them, provoke them, but there was no need. Footsteps came –one, two, three, each step clicking sooner than the last. And good news, it wasn't the clop of his mother's heels. Maybe a friend was coming by to see how shitty he was today.

The knob turned (no one ever knocked when he was supposed to be asleep, whether or not he actually was.) The door slid open to reveal a shorter and stouter man than Uncle Thorin, but even when he had barely revealed himself in the crack of the doorway Kili recognized him easily.

"You're supposed to be sleeping." Bilbo's voice came hushed as if he worried the boy's mother would be behind him any moment.

"How can I sleep when it's such an exciting day?"

"I think the excitement is exactly what your mother's worried about." Bilbo moved inside and shut the door behind him, moving closer to the bed and sitting down against the teen's right thigh. "How are you feeling?"

Kili shifted a little, not uncomfortable except with the question, and maybe a swelling feeling in his chest moving to his shoulder. "'M fine. Better than when I woke up. Not bad enough to be in here, honestly." He stared out the window, at the mountains and the trail leading down into the valley. Fili would be riding down the winding road in a friend's car, the tail end of a long drive following a longer flight. He'd be exhausted by the time the party would start but be grateful enough to celebrate his return nonetheless. Kili smiled at the thought and turned back to Bilbo. "I think it was the excitement that got me in here, but not the bad kind. I just can't wait."

Bilbo nodded and smiled in understanding, patting the boy's shoulder. He went to say something but was interrupted by the creaking of the door as someone else arrived. Lost in his thoughts Kili hadn't noticed the approaching clop of his mother's heels, and now it was too late.

She gave him the kind of look only a mother could give –the kind that bore into the child's soul, the disappointment that could strike remorse even into one who firmly held to having done nothing wrong –the kind of look that could not be met with any steadiness. "You should be resting," she reminded him gently before her eyes turned on their guest.

"It's almost time to go," Kili mumbled, picking at a loose thread in the sheet.

Bilbo moved slightly as if to get between the boy and his mother. "I'm sorry, Dis, I came to check on him and—"

"He was already awake." Her keenness to the situation had both men's eyes averted. She couldn't help a small smile when she held all the power in the room. "My brother's looking for you, Bilbo."

Whether or not it was true –granted, it probably was— it was enough reason to get Bilbo back out into the hall. He gave his fiancé's nephew a sympathetic glance on his way out.

Kili still couldn't look at his mother, but she wasn't angry. She understood, if not from experience, how listless he was waiting in here for Fili to come home. But she couldn't ignore her son's health concerns even for a day, whatever day it was. "How are you feeling?" she asked calmly, hoping for an honest answer.

He felt almost too guilty not to give her one. "Just a little tired," he admitted. "Not feeling faint like this morning, I think I'm ready to go."

She chuckled, "Of course you do," and moved closer. "It won't be like this much longer, and I'm sorry today had to be as difficult as it was. But I've had to play nurse as well as mother lately," she reminded, pulling his covers back. He took this as his chance to sit up and reached over to the shelf to grab a shirt, pulling it on. He brought it down to cover the prominent vertical scars on his chest –bunched together, some longer or thicker than others, tallying up his surgeries over the years.

His ma hadn't looked while he got more fully dressed, focusing on rolling the sheet around her arm. "Things will be better," she continued absently as she stuffed it away, "when I can find you a new one."

Kili frowned at that and moved to get out of bed. He slid a sock across the carpet and appreciated the feeling but focused on his mother's words. "I thought Ettie was coming back on Tuesday?" His nurse had just been on vacation down south, and was due to return to her long-standing patient.

Dis sighed and shook her head, offering him a small smile for reassurance. "No, she's decided otherwise. But we'll find you a good one –a better nurse! One who won't hog the bathroom."

Her joking attempt to comfort him was appreciated but not otherwise well received. He'd liked Ettie. She'd been his only personal home nurse since he was thirteen and had always been good to him, always managed to please both the boy and the mother that employed her. Sure, he'd been a right brat to her sometimes, but he thought he'd been softer to her lately. He had grown to overtly appreciate her work and she leaves? He stared ahead at the wall, and didn't question her reason, convinced himself he didn't care.

"I've invited a prospective new nurse to come to the party," his mother quipped, and helped him stand. "Sweet young thing. I'll think you'll like her."

"You know her?"

"I wouldn't invite her if I didn't, at least a bit. She's a former student of mine. I only had her one semester but she kept in touch, and got her certification. I trust she could do well –it'll come down to what you think of her."

Now steady on his feet, Kili moved to the door and peeked down the hall. Everyone was gathered in the entryway, hidden wherever they could find to hide. He glanced at the clock –nearly five— and then out the window. An unfamiliar car was approaching, but it had to be him. "He's early."

The change in topic brought Dis's attention back to the party. "Of course he is. Well, come on, then, go and hide! No— go outside and meet him! He'll want to see you first. Keep him busy a few minutes while I make sure everything and everyone are where they should be."

He grinned and nodded, moving down the hall and heading for the door. Excitement bubbled in his chest and making it ache all over again.