Hello again!
The events of this fic occur prior to All Will Be Well - it takes place sometime prior to Tauriel and Legolas arriving in Lake-town.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Hobbit.
"Fíli?"
Fíli jerked upright immediately at the soft, cracked voice asking for him. Kíli still looked like death, but at least he was awake.
"Kíli!" Fíli cried, careful to be quiet enough not to disturb the others. "Thank Mahal you've woken."
"Why did you stay with me?" Kíli asked, his voice hoarse. Fíli busied himself with getting him some water before replying.
"What do you mean, Kíli?" he asked, helping his brother to drink. Kíli's eyes took a heartbeat too long to focus, but they did, fixing Fíli with a glare.
"You know perfectly well of what I speak," he retorted, his voice sounding a bit stronger. "Why did you not go to Erebor with our uncle?"
"You know me well enough to know my answer," Fíli countered. "I would not leave you behind. The sight of Erebor means nothing to me if I do not see it with you."
"Why do you care so about me?" Kíli asked, staring blankly up at the ceiling. His eyes were fever-bright. "I am nothing but a useless failure, only able to hinder our Company."
"Why would you say such a thing?" Fíli demanded, grabbing Kíli's hands and forcing his brother to look at him. "Kíli, you speak a lie."
"It's what Uncle thinks," Kíli countered. Perhaps the fever was not entirely to blame for the brightness of his eyes; as Fíli watched, a tear rolled down Kíli's face. "He left me behind here, while he continued on to Erebor. He doesn't trust me to help. I could have ruined things here with my foolish weakness."
"Stop this madness!" Fíli demanded, squeezing Kíli's hands slightly. "You must know that what you say is untrue. Uncle loves you. He loves us both."
"I could have ruined everything," Kíli whispered, not even seeming to have heard Fíli's words. "I have done nothing to help the quest. All I have done is hinder it." Another tear ran down Kíli's face. "Uncle has judged me and found me wanting."
"Oh, Kíli," Fíli sighed, taking his brother in his arms as carefully as he could. He ignored the feverish heat rolling off him in waves and the slight trembling as best he could. "Uncle thinks no such thing. He loves you, as do I. We are your family, Kíli. We will never find you wanting." Fíli pulled back slightly. "Can you imagine what Mother would say if she heard you now? She would be furious."
"As furious as Uncle Thorin is with me," Kíli replied, pulling himself out of Fíli's grip. "Do not coddle me, Fíli. I know that he is angry with me, and I know he has reason to be."
"Will you not listen?" Fíli demanded, shaking Kíli slightly. Kíli let out a low gasp of pain, his eyes losing focus for a moment. Guilt washed over Fíli like a wave. "Kíli?"
"See how weak I am?" Kíli whispered, offering Fíli a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I am not worthy of being called a son of Durin."
"Stop this," Fíli urged quietly, brushing his brother's sweaty hair from his forehead. "Why are you saying such things? Has someone said this to you? Merely tell me their name and I shall seem them beaten for it." Even as he made the threat, Fíli knew no one had been telling this to Kíli; there was no one who would. The Company were all too close to say such things, and no one else knew enough of the relationship between Kíli and Thorin to make such comments. These thoughts must have been ones Kíli had himself.
"No one said anything," Kíli whispered, his voice hoarse and barely there at all. Fíli held the cup of water to his lips again, helping him to drink more. "No one had to. I know this to be true. Uncle left me behind, Fíli. What other reason would he have to do that?"
"He left you alone to protect you," Fíli retorted, setting the now-empty cup to the side. "You are in no position to fight anyone, not wounded as you are. There is no shame in that!"
"No shame in being weak?" Kíli asked dubiously.
"No shame in having been wounded in the service of the Company," Fíli corrected. "We would never have escaped the halls of Mirkwood if you hadn't reopened that gate. Thorin knows that as well as I. But Thorin does not want you harmed again. He told you to rest and to join us when you are healed."
"He said I would slow the Company down," Kíli countered. For a moment, Fíli was furious with Thorin; how could he say such things so thoughtlessly?
"You know as well as I that Thorin does not always know how to say things when they are to do with feelings. He wishes to protect you. That is why he did not allow you to face a dragon while wounded."
"He is ashamed," Kíli mumbled. Fíli sighed, cupping Kíli's face with one hand. The heat radiating from him was terrifying; how could anyone survive their body reaching such temperatures?
"Kíli, you are fevered and delirious," Fíli whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his brother's forehead as he used to do when Kíli was small. "Sleep and heal, and when you are well again, you will realize how foolish your words are."
"Foolish I may be in many things, but not in this," Kíli countered, but before Fíli could say anything, he turned away and closed his eyes. Fíli sighed, knowing that meant Kíli wished to be left alone, and sank down to the floor, sitting by the bed.
Kíli's words twisted around in his head, hurting him even more the more he thought about them. He knew Kíli was wrong, that Thorin didn't hate him and wasn't ashamed. And Kíli was a fool if he thought he had done nothing to help the quest; he and his arrows had always been a great help in battle. He had been wounded when he saved the rest of the Company, for Mahal's sake! He was far from useless.
And the words were probably the manifestations of a feverish dream. Fíli couldn't believe that Kíli actually thought such things about his place in the Company and in Thorin's esteem. But at the same time, Fíli knew that the fever would not have conjured up such doubts out of nowhere. They must have been on Kíli's mind already, if shoved aside or dismissed. Kíli had thought such things.
Once everything was settled, Fíli was going to have a talk with his brother. And, while he was at it, he might as well have a talk with Thorin as well. Kíli could not be allowed to think such things, to think that Thorin was ashamed of him. Fíli would do whatever he had to do to dispel those thoughts.
Kíli had drifted off into a light, restless sleep, his breath occasionally catching in pain. Fíli hated how helpless he was. Kíli was his little brother, whom he'd always protected. Any hurt against him was a hurt against Fíli. It had always been Fíli's duty to protect Kíli, to keep him from doing anything too idiotic. Fíli hadn't always succeeded - in fact, sometimes he was the one making idiotic suggestions - but he'd done his best to keep Kíli from serious harm. He'd always tried to keep Kíli safe, even if it was to the detriment of his own wellbeing.
Fíli barely remembered his father. He died before Kíli was born, when Fíli was merely five years old. Thorin had been a paternal figure of sorts, but he'd been different. Kíli'd never really had a father, and Fíli might as well have not had one either. So Fíli had placed himself in that sort of position for his little brother, taking it upon himself to protect Kíli and do everything within his power that a father would do. Part of that involved protecting Kíli. It was more than just being his big brother; Fíli was Kíli's guardian, his protector, his shield against the world.
But now Kíli had gone off and hurt himself in a way Fíli couldn't fix. There was nothing Fíli could to do now to make things right. He had to depend on Óin to heal Kíli, and thus far, it didn't seem as if Óin's treatments were doing much good.
Kíli's breath caught again in his sleep, immediately attracting Fíli's attention, as it always did. He expected Kíli's breathing to back to normal, as had happened every other time.
It didn't.
Kíli made noises like one fighting for air, gagging and choking. Fíli jerked upright to see his brother struggling to cough up his own blood and immediately rolled Kíli onto his side. "Óin!" he half-shouted, not caring that he would wake the others. "Óin, help!"
Bofur woke first and shook Óin awake before the two of them rushed to Fíli's side. Óin maneuvered Kíli into a slightly more upright position, but there wasn't much they could do. Fíli felt tears prickling at his eyes as he rubbed Kíli's back, whispering soothing phrases to him as he struggled to breathe around the blood clogging his throat.
Finally, the fit passed and Kíli was able to breathe again. Fíli gently laid him back on the bed, smoothing his hair away from his forehead and hoping his hand wasn't trembling too obviously.
"Óin?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know," Óin replied in an equally soft voice. Fíli's chest tightened at the note of defeat in his tone. "I can't think of anything that'll help. So far, nothing I've done has made a difference."
"We can't just let him die!" Fíli hissed, one of his hands compulsively tightening on the bedsheets.
"I don't know that we can do anything to stop it," Óin countered. Fíli felt the air leave his lungs with a whoosh, as if he'd been punched. The cold reality set in for the first time, the horror of it making the room feel much colder and as if it didn't have quite enough air.
Kíli was drifting away from them.
And if they didn't figure something out soon, they were going to lose him.
Tolkien never released any information about Fíli and Kíli's father, as far as I'm aware; the idea that he died when they were young is entirely my own.
The scene of Kíli coughing up his own blood is inspired by a line spoken by Thranduil and Legolas' orc prisoner in Desolation of Smaug: "The poison's in his blood. He'll be choking on it soon."
