Here's the continuation of 'The stuff of nightmares,' because Fíli needs a happy ending (that makes it sound like he's going to die but he's not!). The title came about when I was listening to my ipod on the walk to campus the other day, I thought 'Always Gold' was quite a good song for Fíli in this fic :3
I don't own anything.
1. Dreams and reality
"Hurry up Fee!" Kíli calls, as he runs ahead of his brother, much quicker on his feet despite being five years younger and tiny for his age.
"I'm giving you a head start!" Fíli shouts after him.
"No you're not, you're just slow!" Kíli crows. Fíli pulls a face at his brother's back; Kíli might only be twenty years old but he is already far too observant for his own good.
Just as Fíli catches up, grinning widely to try to hide his heavy breathing and flushed face, Kíli is running again. This time though, he takes a flying leap at a nearby tree and dangles by his arms from the lowest branch, his feet several inches from the ground.
"Look Fee, I'm flying!" he giggles, swinging his stubby legs wildly. Fíli bites his lip in frustration.
"Kíli, you mustn't do that," he says sternly, trying to sound like Uncle Thorin does when he tells Kíli off.
"Why?"
"It's dangerous!"
"Why?"
"You might fall off and hurt yourself!"
"I won't!"
"Well…trees are for elves!" Fíli smirks, sure that this will get Kíli down. Like their uncle, they both hate elves. Kíli sticks his tongue out.
"Nope! I like trees and I'm a dwarf!" he shouts, as he pulls himself up to sit on the branch, before standing up to reach for the one above.
"I'll tell Mama," Fíli threatens. Kíli's jaw drops; he stops climbing and dangles limply from the next branch.
"No Fee, don't be mean!" he pouts, gazing at his brother and blinking his large eyes sadly. As usual, Fíli caves.
"Okay, fine! Just a little way up though," he concedes, sitting cross-legged on the grass at the foot of the tree. Kíli cheers and continues to climb, while Fíli takes out a handful of toys from the pocket of his tunic and busies himself with setting up a battle between the wooden dwarf-soldiers and an army of orcs improvised from a few scavenged pebbles. He is so absorbed in his game that he forgets to keep an eye on Kíli, and soon he can no longer hear Kíli's laughter or the rustling of leaves as he climbs. Worried, he looks up, but Kíli is nowhere to be seen in any of the trees around the clearing.
"Kíli? Kíli where are you?" he shouts, a note of panic creeping into his voice. He was supposed to be looking after his little brother, not losing him.
"Up here!" The faint triumphant shout seems to be coming from directly above where Fíli sits.
"Where?" he calls, looking up again, scanning the tree frantically with his eyes. This time, he catches a glimpse of one side of Kíli's face, peering over a particularly large branch. The dwarfling waves enthusiastically, and Fíli replies with a relieved smile.
"I'm gonna jump down!" Kíli grins. The smile falls rapidly from Fíli's face, replaced by a stare of open-mouthed horror.
"No you're not!" he insists, folding his arms across his chest. "Just climb back down safely!"
"It's okay, you'll catch me!" Kíli chirps confidently, and with that, he launches himself from the branch. Fíli instantly stretches out his arms, watching anxiously, but the little dwarfling never appears through the branches and leaves overhead.
At least, not in the way Fíli remembers.
A body falls in front of him. Kíli. Dead.
The sun is setting when Fíli's eyes flicker open, the fading light reflecting off the snow, bathing everything in a warm golden glow. He can feel the weight of Kíli's head resting against him as he sleeps, both of them covered by a soft white blanket, their hands clasped together for comfort.
Kíli's fingers are ice, his hair decorated with beads of frost. He lies quite still, his lips a faint purple and ghosted by the remnants of a smile. There is no slow steady heartbeat beneath the ill-fitting armour, no soft tickle of breath against Fíli's arm.
"Gone," Fíli whispers, his breath misting in front of his face. Never has he felt so cold before. Snow has fallen while he slept, beginning to draw a clean sheet over the remains of the battle surrounding them.
He looks around slowly, the muscles of his neck stiff with disuse, his eyes catching sight of something familar half-buried in the snow. Kíli's bow is snapped in two, the wood splintered, the two halves now joined only by the thinnest frayed strand of the string.
"I'll mend it for you," he reassures his brother, clutching the broken pieces in his fist. If only he could mend Kíli so easily.
It seems like hours he sits there in silence, cradling Kíli in his arms, willing himself to wake up, praying desperately that this is nothing more than a bad dream.
"Fíli, you're alive!" a voice calls urgently.
"I'm not alive, Kíli's not dead," he murmurs to himself over and over, shaking his head frantically, though in his heart he knows the words are a lie.
"Fíli, it's me, Bilbo. You need to come with me, quickly!" the hobbit stutters as he gasps for breath.
"I'm not going anywhere," Fíli whispers, pressing his forehead to Kíli's.
"It's Thorin." Bilbo continues. Fíli's face darkens in fury. Thorin. Thorin did this.
Not sure if I like this or not, but I guess intros are usually necessary :/
The dream/memory part will hopefully become more relevant as I go along..