That night, long after the sun was lost and the possibility of collecting more of the dead was gone, and Dain had returned to what remained of his army, the rest of The Company returned to the Hall where Kili still sat, now holding both of his relations' hands. His eyes were red and swollen from crying, his expression pained, but for now, he could find no more tears to shed. While the others knelt before the fallen, offering their silent respects and wishes for peace, Balin stood before Kili to offer him a waterskin. The young dwarf shook his head in refusal, his throat too dry and sore to vocalize his wishes.
"It's not an offer. I'm telling you to drink," Balin ordered firmly, yet gently. Kili accepted it and took a sip, though instinct soon took over and sips turned to gulps in his need to slate his mighty thirst. Balin knelt as Kili was finishing and looked to Thorin as he spoke. "Though it'll be tempting, you need to take care of yourself in the coming days. The battle is won, but there is much be done. We have not one but two cities that need restoring, friends or foes, who knows at this point, that will be making demands, and you, our king, need to be at your best. These coming months will be critical, Kili." Kili stopped searching the skin for one last drop and seemed to look through Balin.
"It wasn't supposed to be me," he rasped. "Thorin knew what to do. He was going to restore Erebor, make everything better than even before. We would prosper again, and another 100, 150 years from now, when Fili was old, fat, and had sons plenty, he would take the helm, while I…" he faltered. What did it matter now what he'd had planned? "I don't think I can do this, Balin," he admitted, safe amongst friends. If he'd been paying more attention, Kili might have seen sympathetic glances and felt the changing atmosphere of unspoken support, but he only felt like he was drowning in the enormity of this task. The Hall seemed to grow bigger or he was shrinking more and more and his heart started to race and his breathing grew shallow until Balin's firm hands brought him down to the present.
"Maybe this wasn't how anyone planned it, but it's the reality we've been handed. It won't be easy, and yes, you are young, but I speak for everyone here when I say that no one doubts your ability to be a great king. We have faced the impossible together, and together, we will get through this now. You are not alone."
"Here, here," Dwalin added softly. Kili would have cried again if he physically could.
"But for tonight, let's take care of Thorin and Fili." The younger members of the company had never been to a funeral before, and few had been to a royal one, so Balin took over to make for proper arrangements. Bombur was directed to bring basins, warm water, and cloth to Thorin and Fili's makeshift lodgings while Oin and Gloin would search for medical and hygienic supplies. Finally, Dwalin would lead the rest to bring two stone tables and any possible tapestry or cloth to the Hall. Only Balin, Kili, and Bilbo remained behind. Though the rubble at the front of the hall had been cleared in order to seal the entrance, the back half was still strewn with stone. They set off moving the more manageable chunks to the side so the tables could be carried in with ease and it would be easy enough for crowds to gather to see the king and prince lying in state. On the fourth day, they would be moved to the tombs for the funeral and then be interned in the tombs deep in the mountain. Everyone was sore and exhausted, but the sentiment of the work made it bearable. For Kili, it was something to focus on besides his grief. If his body was busy, his mind was not. They'd made good progress when Bombur returned.
"The tubs are ready," he announced, "and I passed Oin on my way here."
"Very good. Will you help us carry them?" Balin asked unnecessarily. Bombur and Bilbo took Thorin's cot while Balin and Kili took Fili's. It was a long walk to the corridor the Company had taken up residence in, and the coin-strewn floors did not make the journey easier. Balin breathed heavy by the time Fili was set down in the brothers' room. "Well, let's get him cleaned up. Do you want to find his spare clothing while I start washing?"
"No, I…," Kili felt his voice begin to falter, but he steeled himself with a deep breath, "I want to do this myself. He's my brother. I should do it." Balin began to object, but Kili stopped him. "Please. I need to do this. I thank you now, as I will many times over the next days and months, but let me tend to my brother alone."
"Of course. I would want the same if situations were reversed. I only worry about you, lad. It won't be a pretty sight, but if you must. Still though, don't try to stitch him up. Leave that to Oin. I've seen your mending skills," Balin managed to joke and Kili gave a humorless grin. His socks were the worst of the lot. Without another word, Balin left them alone. Kili turned from the door and assessed the room. Bombur had pushed the supplies they'd strewn across the floor to the side. Their mother had always scolded them for being especially untidy and this journey had not solved that. Another good reason Balin wasn't here was that Fili's spare clothing was wadded up under his thin pillow and fraternal loyalty required he keep that a secret. In between their two sleeping mats, now to the right of where Fili lay was an old, blue copper basin half full of water and on Kili's side of the tub were two stone bowls and a pile of cloth.
"Well, Fili, you were saying how good a bath would feel after all this," he mumbled hollowly. "But this is awfully rotten of you to leave me to clean your rancid feet. Trolls would flee before doing that," he joked morbidly, as he began to strip off his cloak and chainmail. The thought of doing so before hadn't occurred to him and now he felt too light without it. He tossed it all onto his mat and pulled off his boots and socks. "Not that mine smell like flowers right about now, either. Will you get a whiff of that?" He could think of half a dozen comments Fili would make and the silence that replied was deafening. He rolled his tunic sleeves up past his elbows and tied his hair back off his face. At this moment, he felt filled with purpose and focused wholly on the task before him.
As their mother had when they were sick as children, Kili lifted Fili into a reclining position and sat behind him. First, he unbraided his hair and pulled large chunks of debris from the golden mane. As he did, he felt the soft clots around the stab wound break onto him. He didn't mind though. Next, he removed Fili's armor and clothing. Already, Fili was growing stiff and so it was not as easy a process as he'd imagined. Plus, the cloth layers were sticky with blood, but Kili refused to cut anything away. When Fili's torso was bare, only then did Kili dare to look at his wound, and his stomach turned. He'd seen puncture wounds, had tended his own, but he was unprepared for the carnage Azog had inflicted. The chest exit hole was not terribly big, but the back was wide and flesh burst forward after being pulled out with the blade. His back was stained deep, dark red and when Kili tried to press some of the tissue back inside, the clots burst open and more blood leaked out, causing a bigger mess. He left it alone and steeled himself again. He got up, letting Fili lie down again, and reset his nose with a sickening snap before he finished undressing his brother. Fili's body was purple and black with bruises from his fall and the general journey as a whole, and Kili worried, as he placed his brother in the tub, how he was supposed to lie in state like this. He did not want people seeing his brother discolored and swollen for the last time. That's not what Fili would have wanted. But there was nothing he could do right now.
The water quickly began to turn a muddy red color and Kili scooped a bowl full for a clean rinsing. He'd underestimated just how dirty this would be. Using the other, smaller bowl, he carefully poured water over Fili's head, unnecessarily careful to avoid the eyes and ears, and then found the sliver of soap. As he lathered and massaged Fili's scalp, his mind demanded to wander.
He thought about what they should have been doing right now: celebrating Thorin's victory and mourning with their Iron Hill kin. In between memorial toasts, there would have been song and stories. He thought of times he'd been washed in such a manner, how is mother's hands had tended his fevered or weary body. Shouldn't she have been doing this now? When would she learn her firstborn had been stolen from her, in addition to her brother? How would she bare it? How could he not be there for her now? She'd asked him not to go on this journey, to stay with her, before she'd made him promise to return. Fili needed him, but so did their mother. When would they be together again? He thought of his childhood and the many misadventures they'd wandered into. How many times had Fili protected him? Taken the blame for his foolish mistakes? Now, in the most crucial moment, he hadn't been there to return the favor. He hadn't saved Fili. He hadn't saved Thorin. He'd done nothing. He'd trusted Tauriel to do his work for him and she'd failed too. She let him down. A portion of his mind tried to remind him that she was currently injured, but he couldn't help his anger towards her for failing to save Fili and Thorin. It wasn't rational, he knew it, but he didn't care. He felt hot tears begin to prick at his swollen eyes, but he swiped them away to keep working.
When Fili was relatively clean, Kili fished out his clothing, attempted to smooth some of the wrinkles out, and laid them aside so they would not be splashed. He poured a small amount of the clean, now-cool reserved water over Fili's head to rinse the remaining blood out, and then towel dried his hair. He figured it would make things easier. Finally, Kili reached into the water and pulled Fili up. However, Fili did not naturally lie flat, but remained awkwardly in the curled position from the tub. Kili tried to fix him, but the muscles were stuck and did not want to cooperate. The more Kili fought, and the more the water evaporated, the more reality set in. Suddenly, Kili could no longer stand the unnaturally cold flesh and awkward pose Fili was stuck in. With a frustrated yell, he fled his room and ran. He needed air. He needed to get out. He needed to get away. He'd failed him. He couldn't do it. It was too much. No. No. No.
He stopped when he reached the Hall and the icy night air. He was barely dressed and still wet, but he felt he deserved the painful chill. He'd let Fili die, and now he couldn't even properly prepare him for his funeral. What a disgrace. He sank to the golden floor and buried his face in his hands. Thorin couldn't be proud of him now. After a time, he heard footsteps and then felt a thick cloak being wrapped around his apparently shaking form. He grabbed the fur to him and tried to warm up as Bofur sat next to him.
"You needn't feel shame in it." He let the words settle in before proceeding. Kili was too cold to say anything. "I know you've seen death before. You've inflicted it plenty, but I'm guessing you've never had to see what happens just after. It's a frightful process. Don't see it so much in the animals since we butcher 'em, but it's not pretty. More shocking then when it's someone you care about. Had we been doing this proper like, we would have seen to them right away, gotten them cozy and there wouldn't have been quite the drama, but we couldn't. And now, it is what it is." There was no judgment in the words, and on that note, Bofur let them hang in the air to be absorbed with time.
"Will he stay stuck like that? Have I ruined him?" Kili finally asked. Bofur waved his hand to assuage his fear.
"He's not in the worst of it yet. Oin will have him all sorted out, and by tomorrow night, it'll wear off. It's not permanent. Don't you worry." Kili felt nominally better. They sat there in silence, and Kili must have drifted off to sleep, because he awoke when the rest of the company returned. Bofur and Kili joined the others around the tables and Thorin and Fili were transferred onto the tattered tapestries. By some miracle, Oin had improved both of them. They were dressed, groomed, and somehow Fili's skin seemed normally colored. And as Bofur had assured him, Fili did not look like he was in crippling pain. Neither of them lay quite naturally, but it passed for now. A low hum passed through the crowd and the old members of the Company sang a dirge Kili, Ori, and Bilbo did not know. When Bifur, two beats behind everyone else, finished singing, they reluctantly moved away.
"Would you like to share my room tonight?" Ori asked him as they walked. Despite being mid-yawn, Kili shook his head.
"I don't want to sleep."
"Understandable. At the least, drink this," Oin instructed, handing him a vial. "It'll restore you." Kili grimaced as he swallowed the bitter liquid.
"What is that?" he asked as he passed the bottle back to its keeper.
"Sleeping draught. Nothing restores you like a good rest." Kili would have been mad, but he suddenly felt warm and couldn't work up the energy to feel anything. He thought he heard someone say something about catching someone, but he was already asleep before his brain could make sense of it.
A/N: Thank you everyone for the reviews on Ch. 1 and all the favorites and alerts. Always makes it worth the effort.
I hope this chapter works. Kili wasn't supposed to panic, but then as I was writing, it's where the story went, so I kept it. If it's too much, that should be the worst of it. Chapter 3 is in the works, 4 is more or less written, so there should be regular updates for the foreseeable future.