Balin had waited for his little brother but when the sun began to slip toward the horizon, his patience had grown very thin. He heaved a heavy sigh and stomped his way home. Dwarves rushed past him here and there as he made it closer to home and Balin stumbled to a halt when he made it inside the front entrance to the halls of Erebor to find pandemonium. Dwarves now rushed past him in groups and the larger halls were filled with panicked families and wives calling to the miners and soldiers that ran past them. Balin felt panic rise in his chest and squeezed his way through the crowd, trying to get home as quickly as possible.

A thousand different scenarios and images raced through his mine and most of them included his little brother and his friend in some form of danger. His boots pounded against the stone floor and Balin felt his eyes start to sting as he panicked more and more. He tried to reassure himself, I'm sure they're home. They must be. They have to be.

When he finally made it past the majority of the crowds, he crashed through his front door. Balin's mother dropped the tea kettle she was pulling out of the hearth and let out a yelp.

"Oh, my son!" His mother rushed forward and wrapped Balin in a crushing embrace.

"Mother, what's happened?" Balin's words were muffled as he talked into his mother's side. He finally pulled back and looked up at his mother. He asked again, "What is it, Mum?"

She opened her mouth to answer but froze and took in a panicked breath, "Where is your brother?"

Balin felt his heart stop, "He's not here?" His mother shook her head and covered her mouth as she tried to stifle her tears. Balin asked one more time, "Mother, what's happened? Why is everyone in the halls?"

She finally answered after a shaky breath, "There's been a collapse in the mines. Your father's been called away to dig out any survivors," she tried to take a calming breath, "They say it was in the older mines but there are dozens of dwarves down there."

Balin's chest froze and he felt like someone had just knocked the air out of his lungs. The older tunnels? He looked up to see that his mother was waiting for him to say something.

"Balin, did you hear me?" He shook his head. She took a breath and said, "Where is your brother?"

...

Thrain stood next to his father with his arms crossed over his chest. Thror glanced at his son to see he had the same worried look as the miners and soldiers etched into his face. They watched as builders and miners directed dwarves to do this or that as they tried to figure out how best to clear the tunnel. The crowd that had started in the small market inside Erebor now spread into the larger hallways connected to the opening of the collapsed tunnel. The air was thick with dust and smoke from extra torches Thrain had ordered in the tunnels.

Now the king and his son stood toward the back of the main group of volunteers. Thror put a hand on Thrain's shoulder, "This is a terrible thing, son, but this is not our first cave-in. We'll be okay."

Thrain tried small smile in response, hoping it would reassure his father in return, and then sighed and nodded. Thror tightened his grip on his son's shoulder and offered his own small smile. "Now where is my grandson? I'm surprised he isn't here with you."

Thrain's brow furrowed even more, "I don't know." He looked around for a dwarf that wasn't occupied and spotted a familiar face.

"Fundin!" The dwarf's head snapped toward the call and rushed over when he spotted the king and prince waving him offer. He offered a small bow and said, "What can I do for you, my lords?"

"Have you seen Thorin today? He said something about visiting your son with morning."

Fundin shook his head, "No sir, not since this morning."

Thrain felt panic bubbling under the surface, how could neither of them know where their sons were?

"Fundin," he put a hand on his shoulder, "Would you mind finding our sons for me? They should be home while we determine which halls and tunnels are still safe." Fundin nodded.

"Of course, sir," he gave small nod to Thror and vanished into the crowd.

Thrain looked to his father for more reassurance as a knot started forming in the pit of his stomach, "Do you think he's already gone home?" Thror patted his shoulder.

"Try not to worry, son. I'm sure he's fine. Come, we have work to do here." Thror walked away, slowly making his way through the crowd and didn't look back- he knew his son would follow. Thrain took a few long strides to catch up with the king and followed him as they approached the group of builders standing near the pile of debris that spilled out of the entrance to the collapsed tunnel.

...

Thorin woke with a start and coughed when the dirt in the air stung his throat. The torches were completely extinguished and it was so dark that Thorin couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed. His eyes stung from the dirt as well and when he tried to bring both hands up to rub them, he cried out from a sudden pain in his left arm. There was a heavy weight holding his arm down and Thorin gritted his teeth as he tried to move it again. Something in his arm moved and a wave of nausea and screaming nerve endings took the breath out of the little dwarf.

Thorin froze and tried to steady his breathing as one word ran through his mind over and over again: Broken. A quiet groan a few feet away from him pulled Thorin out of his cloud and he felt his heart skip a beat with relief.

"Dwalin?" He strained his eyes to look for his friend even though he knew he wouldn't see anything in the pitch darkness. A slightly louder groan as an answer.

"Dwalin? You okay?" Thorin tried to sit up a little more and bit the inside of his cheek to stifle any chance of a whimper escaping him. He stayed quiet and waited as he heard a few rocks moving and what he hoped was his unharmed friend moving about. The noises ceased and Thorin called again with a touch of panic sneaking into his voice, "Dwalin?"

Finally, Dwalin groaned again and answered, "What happened?"

"Are you hurt?"

"I...I don't know. My head feels kinda funny."

"What do you mean 'it feels funny?'" Thorin tried to pulled free of the rock again, forgetting just how badly it would hurt if he moved his arm. He heard Dwalin start to say something but he stopped when Thorin's lungs betrayed him and forced out a cry of pain.

"Thorin?" Dwalin said meekly.

"I'm fine. It's just my arm." Thorin could feel another wave of nausea hit him and a cold sweat forming beneath his shirt. A few tears stung his eyes and Thorin was grateful in that moment that no one could see him in such a state. A few rocks moved, alerting him to Dwalin's movement and he quickly tried to scrub his eyes with his free hand.

"What's wrong with your arm?"

Thorin pulled in a deep breath and fought the bile he could feel stirring. "It's broken. And I'm stuck." Thorin rested he head against the rubble piled behind him and heaved a shaky sigh. He knew it was going to hurt, but Thorin wanted his arm from beneath that rock and he wasn't going to wait much longer.

...

Balin sat at the table, tapping his foot impatiently. He always loved sitting at the table and talking with his mother as she prepared meals, but today he had no stomach for sitting idly by while his little brother was out there somewhere.

His mother busied herself making tea to take to some of the workers along with a few loaves of bread. From the exterior, to any other dwarf, she would have seemed fairly calm but Balin could recognize that signs that she was fighting a battle on the inside. However, that didn't quell the frustration he felt now- they should be out looking for Dwalin, helping Father, doing something. He couldn't stand just sitting there; something was wrong and he could feel it.

"Mother, please," he begged, "We have to go help. I have to find Dwalin."

"We are helping. I'm making this food for everyone out there; all the families are. Now hush and come help me."

"But Dwalin-"

His mother cut him off, "I'm sure he's fine. He'll be walking through that door any moment now." She turned her face toward the door as if she were waiting for her youngest to prove her prophesy true.

"But what if he's in trouble? Something's wrong-"

"Enough!" She yelled as she whipped her head around and gave him a stern look. Balin's mouth snapped shut and he held his breath. His mother smoothed her dress as she tried to calm herself. "That's quite enough, Balin."

She picked up a loaf of bread and busied herself with wrapping it as she continued in a low voice, "If something is wrong, your father will find him. But I will not have all three of my boys disappear on me."

Balin stared at the table top as he felt his cheeks and eyes burn with frustration.

"Now if you're not going to help me with this," she said with her back to him, "please go wait in your room until dinner's ready."

Balin's eyes shot up to the back of his mother's head and waited for her to turn around, willing her to see the anger, hurt and worry he felt. His mother never turned so the dwarfling stood up quickly enough to knock the chair onto the floor. He stormed down the hall to his room, channeling all of his emotions to his stomping feet, and slammed the door behind him.

The room he shared with Dwalin felt far too large and empty in Dwalin's absence. The box of toys they usually fought over felt like a cruel tease to Balin now and he paced the room as he tried to think of what to do. He needed to find Dwalin, he was the only one beside Thorin that could think like his little brother. He knew he was the only that could find the tunnel again if that was indeed where they were. This is my responsibility, he assured himself, I have to do something.

Balin turned and peeked out the door. His mother was just barely in view at the end of the hall. Her back was still turned, and it looked and sounded like she was busy with something- her light humming serving as a calming agent as she occupied her hands and thoughts. Balin slowly stepped out of his bedroom and closed the door as quietly as he could. He grabbed one of his overcoats as well as one of Dwalin's from the hook outside his door and waited for a moment; looking for an opportunity to slip past his mother without being noticed. Just as she turned slightly more to the right, Balin slid along the wall to the left, toward the door and opened it only as far as he needed to squeeze through.

He held his breath as he closed the door and then made a run for it in case he caught her attention. As soon as he rounded the corner that would lead him where he figured his father would be, he let out a sigh of relief. Pulling the hood of his cloak up with one hand, Balin clutched his brother's coat in the other. Breathing heavily, the older dwarfling willed his legs to carry him as fast as possible. Dwarves were good sprinters and Balin knew as long as he kept breathing, his feet would get him to his father soon.

The trip to the site of the collapse went by quickly until he ran into the crowd of miners, builders and volunteers that filled the large open area at the junction of the hallways on the edge of the market. With his short stature, it was impossible to see past the wall of dwarves standing shoulder to shoulder. There was a storm of shouting and jostling as everyone worked to clear the tunnel and take provisions, survivors and medical supplies to and from the site of the collapse.

As Balin pushed his way through the crowd, he could see glimpses of the aftermath: piles of rubble that been pushed away, injured miners resting along the wall, healers running from one person to the next. The whole area was filled with a thin cloud of dust that made the torches seem to glow much duller than usual. Balin could taste the dirt as he drew in long breaths to calm himself after his run. Just as he began to panic that his father was not there, he heard a familiar commanding voice call his father's name. Balin thought he saw a familiar helmet move through the crowd a little ways away from him. He rushed forward but the crowd was impossible to break through.

...

"Thorin, just rest." Dwalin sounded like he was still a few feet away from Thorin, but he could feel his friend's panic. Thorin adjusted himself so he would be sitting with his back square against the rubble behind him. The waves of pain and nausea had only grown closer together and the only thought he had was the want and need to have his arm free so he could cradle it.

"I think I can get my arm out if I just move this rock a little." Thorin gritted his teeth as he tried to push the rock up with his right hand.

"No, Thorin-" Dwalin was cut off by Thorin's sudden shrill scream of pain.

Thorin clutched his arm to his chest, but in his panic he grabbed his arm right over the break. Colored spots danced in front of his eyes and Thorin gave in as he let another cry of pain escape him. He felt his body sag away from the rubble he'd been buried beneath and he rested his head on the uneven ground.

As his breathing relaxed a little, his other senses came back to him. A quiet call of his name brought him back to where he was and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Thorin?" Dwalin said again. His voice sounded like it was low to the ground as well. Thorin swallowed again as he tried to push back down the contents of his stomach that stubbornly tried to travel upward. His throat felt raw and he could taste the dirt that filled the air. He cleared his throat as he tried to speak and managed a croaky, "I'm fine."

Dwalin humphed and said, "You don't sound fine."

Thorin scooted himself back up to lean against the wall and sighed. His friend didn't speak again for a while and the silence was unsettling for Thorin. He strained his ears to try to hear anything in the emptiness. Dwalin's small breaths sounded like they were a couple feet away from him.

There was a faint sound coming from somewhere above Thorin's head. He turned up his head to stare into the darkness that shrouded the ceiling. "Dwalin, can you hear that?"

As Thorin tried to focus even more on the faint sounds, he was certain he could hear muffled talking and what he figured were the sounds of shovels and picks scraping against rock. Thorin called for Dwalin again but was met with silence. He was about to consider trying to scoot to where he thought Dwalin was when something cold dropped on the top of his head. Another small droplet fell on the little dwarf's upturned face and Thorin broke into a wide smile. He stuck out his tongue in the dark and laughed in relief when a cool, refreshing drop of water landed on the corner of his mouth. There was still no response from Dwalin so Thorin tried to collect some of the cool liquid in his hand and flick it in the direction he thought he could hear breathing coming from. A small yelp made Thorin sigh with relief.

"What was that?" Dwalin's words came out slurred in a way that worried Thorin.

"Water!" Thorin turned his face up to the tiny but steady drip and smiled again. "Come over here, Dwalin."

He heard some shuffling and then it went quiet again.

"Dwalin?"

"I'm too dizzy," he whimpered back, "and I can't see anything."

"Neither can I, just move toward my voice." Thorin held out his good hand to search blindly for his friend as Dwalin started scooting along the ground. After several minutes of Dwalin struggling to crawl past the various piles of rocks and dirt, he finally collided with Thorin's outstretched hand. Dwalin latched onto Thorin's arm and used it as an anchor as he tried to stand. He shuffled the last few inches and dropped heavily to the ground next to his friend's shoulder. They both heaved a heavy sigh, and Thorin let himself relax a little by leaning against his friend. After a few quiet moments, Thorin broke the silence with a quiet, "Father's going to kill me."

I hope you guys are liking this little story so far! Please feel free to drop a review or a pm if the fancy strikes you.

The next chapter should be up in the next couple of days as well. Until then, have a wonderful day!