It was the dwarves.

Kili had sprinted back with two other orcs to tell Azog of their findings. When he looked at the dwarves' small camp, he watched with hatred burning in his eyes. He recognized one of them as Thorin Oakenshield, the dwarf who was Azog's sworn enemy and must die.

In the two minutes he had to look, he studied them. Most were asleep. Few were awake. The blonde dwarf smoking his pipe caught his attention.

His facial features looked similar to Kili's. He had a small beard, though Kili had a stubble of one. They had the same shade of pale skin. He seemed familiar, like a distant memory.

Junithril's legs were about to give out when they reached camp. Kili leaped off as Junithril collapsed. As the two scouts reported to Azog, Kili stroked Junithril's head and fed him some meat.

Fili smoked his pipe, clenching his fists when he heard the orcs. He hated them with all his heart. They had killed his baby brother. He longed for the chance to kill the orcs that had hurt Kili.

As Balin described the battle in which Thorin had slain the Pale Orc, Fili felt a stab of pain in his heart. Kili should be here. Not dead.

"Thorin's got a lot of reasons to hate orcs," said the wise dwarf. "More than most. He and Fili both." The hobbit looked at the young heir, then to Balin. "Why Fili?"

Fili gripped his pipe with much more force than necessary.

"His younger brother, Kili, was taken and killed by orcs when he was just a babe. Never been found."

"Oh."

"Kili," said Azog. Kili stood up and walked over. "Go with them." He spoke in Black Speech. Kili nodded. Excitement burned in him.

He walked back to Junithril, who was definitley not happy about going again. As Kili pulled on his travel pack, he assured that he would get his rest.

They went out again, running to catch up. Kili tried to make sure that Junithril wasn't too tired. But they made it without any accidents.

They followed the dwarves. There were times when Kili went so far ahead, that he could see them. The urge to shoot them all with his bow was great, but he couldn't. Not yet, anyway. He would aim at the backs of their heads, but not loose the arrow.

He frowned when they seemed to have lost the dwarves. But they were found quickly, when two warg scouts went ahead. Kili sat on Junithril anxiously; he was told to wait there in the forest until the dwarves were spotted. The other orcs were chasing a strange man on a sled pulled by rabbits in the valley. Kili knew this was important. If the dwarves got to Rivendell, then they would have to wait until the Misty Mountains.

Junithril stepped out of the trees, sniffing the air for the dwarves. He caught the scent of his brethren, but not dwarf. Kili's eyes watched carefully for movement. He found none, but the warg crept forward, eager to run after hours of resting.

Suddenly an orc scream caught their attention. Immediately, Junithril jumped forward and ran down the valley. Kili clenched tightly and leand forward, surprised by the sudden bolt. Junithril sped down towards the sound and around the rock. The moment he saw them, he pulled an arrow and aimed at the blonde.

"Don't move!" he hissed. They stared at him, confusion on their faces. Kili had hoped they would be ignorant to the other orcs, but they turned and ran.

Kili aimed at the blonde's back, but when he fired, it hit his shoulder. He cried out in pain and Kili couldn't help but smile to himself for it. He'd never killed before. Would Azog be proud if he did?

He shot at two more, just missing them by inches. But before he could hit any of them, they had all slid down into the rocks. For a moment, Junithril stood there, growling at them threateningly. Kili got just see their faces, watching him.

A horn blasted. Elves. "Damn it," he muttered, and Junithril leaped forward and bolted out of sight. They both crouched behind the rock, waiting for the elves to leave. He heard arrows slaughtering the orcs and wargs, but he was safe. They finally passed.

Kili cursed to himself. He should've shot Oakenshield when he had the chance. Now, it was off to the Misty Mountains. Kili hated going there; Goblins were his least favorite race.

"Fili," said Ori, once the elves passed. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine," Fili muttered. It was painful, but he managed to hold back a scream.

"No ya aren't, lad," said Dwalin. "An arrow in your shoulder is not fine."

"Then what will you do about it?" Fili asked, giving a look to anyone who stepped in to help.

"Get it out," Balin said simply. "It looks deep."

"I don't care," Fili growled. "Leave me alone."

"Fili," Thorin said sternly. "Let them."

"Best leave it to the elves," Gandalf said. "They are experts in healing."

"I will not let them touch my nephew and heir," Thorin growled.

"Thorin, he may bleed to death if he does not get treated. We have no way of knowing whether it was poisoned or not, especially if its as deep as it is in his shoulder!"

"An orcish arrow fired by a dwarf," Ori said quietly.

"Yes, who was that?" Bofur asked. "No orc. Definitely dwarf."

"Why would a dwarf be riding a warg with orcs?"

Everyone was silent for a moment. Then Thorin and Gandalf both said at the same time,

"Kili."

It took a while, and some resting on Junithril's half, but they made it to the foot of the mountains. Kili prayed that there were no storms in their way. He hated rain.

It had started to dizzle, then turned into a full-out raging storm. He was soaked to the bone, and Junithril's fur pelt provided next to no warmth. The mountain pass they took was wide enough for them to go in single-file line, but even Junithril nearly slipped, almost taking Kili down with him and would have, if the warg behind them hadn't pushed them back against the mountain.

Kili felt relief when they were inside the mountains, the goblins' fires giving warmth. He was nearly asleep. But he forced his eyes open. He couldn't sleep now.

Azog would be arriving and he had to be in top shape. But soon, he gave in to the darkness and let sleep take over as Junithril carried him, shivering.