II. Captive

Someone touched his forehead, light, soothing, comforting.

„Tauriel," he said softly.

The fingers withdrew. „Katla."

„Huh?"

„Katla. Do you remember me? From Ered Luin."

„Course I do." His voice was blurred. His brain tried to puzzle together the pieces. Katla from Ered Luin. Of course.

„Don't tell Thorin," he mumbled.

„What?" Katla sounded shocked.

„Don't know. Can't remember. But don't tell him, right?" He must have got himself into trouble again, he figured. Aching brain, numb body, a strangely fogged memory of riding a pony.

„Fee?"

„Your brother is not here. He's in Erebor. You do remember Erebor, don't you?"

„Sure. Don't tell Thorin. Won't take me."

„Take you?"

„To Erebor. Want to go. Need to go. Mum doesn't…" He tried to swallow the dry lump in his throat. „Doesn't want me to. Says too young. Too dangerous."

She was silent.

„Katla?"

„I'm here."

„Why is it so dark?"

„It's night. And we are in a cave."

„Why?"

„We needed to find shelter. Kíli, can you sit up?"

„Am not?"

„No. Here. Let me help you."

A strong hand grasped his arm and hurled him upright. Instantly his stomach turned over and he gagged.

„Sorry, I'm so sorry. You better lie down again."

„No." He pressed his hand over his mouth and tried to breathe through his nose. Slowly. In. Out. His head throbbed. He felt sick.

„Do you remember what happened?"

„Fell. From the pony."

„Yes." Her voice sounded relieved. „You fell. You hit your head."

His fingers searched his hairline where the aching and throbbing was worst. A sticky lump of hair was glued to his forehead. He picked at it and yelped.

„What? What happened?" Katla's hands were on his face.

„Bump on me head."

She laughed. „I'm sure there is a mighty bump. You were out cold for so long you really got me worried."

„Really?"

„Yeah. I was afraid the orcs got you after all."

„Orcs?"

„We were attacked. Don't you remember?"

His fingers were picking at the wound again, gentler this time, but the dried lump of grit and hair was too entangled. His face was crusted with something too. He scratched some of it off and tasted it. Blood. He tried to sit more upright and straightened his shoulders. It hurt. He had injured his shoulder a long time ago. His hand went down on his throbbing thigh. And his leg. He was not in Ered Luin, he suddenly knew. And Thorin was no longer here to protect him.

He let out a shaky breath.

„What about Ari?"

„Dead."

„Daisy?"

„Bolted when I got to you. I hope she makes it to Erebor."

„You carried me here?"

„Aye. You weigh a lot more than I thought, skinny as you are."

„Am not."

She laughed. „Ow. I see you're coming around. Arguing again."

„Where are we?"

„In a cave on the outline of the Lonely Mountain where the river meets the pine grove. It's probably a bear's cave judging by the smell."

„We have to get out of here."

„No. The orcs surely followed us. We left a good trace of blood. In here we are safe, the rift is too small for them to enter."

His hands searched for his sword.

„My weapons?"

„I've got your sword. Had to leave the bow though."

„Have yours?"

„No. My quiver was tied to Daisy's saddle anyway."

She sounded tired and as if suppressing a groan of pain.

„Are you okay? Wounded?"

„A little."

„Where? How bad is it?"

„It's nothing."

He felt her body for the injury, a little awkward at first – she was a female after all – but then got hold of a broken arrow shaft stuck in her side. She cried out at the touch. His fingers felt warm blood oozing from the wound.

„This is bad. We have to take care of that."

He needed light to check the wound. Dwarves could see fine in the dark but this was pitch black. He searched his pocket for his flint, then fumbled for dry twigs on the ground. Finally he managed to get a small fire going, making sure the smoke would escape through the rift in the rock so that they wouldn't suffocate. Katla's face was deadly pale, little beads of sweat stood on her forehead. He felt for the arrow again, buried between her ribs, and took a good look at the wound. Relieved, he realised the blood that was trickling down her side wasn't either bubbly or light red. Still, the wound was deep and probably causing inner bleeding. He had to get Katla to Erebor's infirmary as quickly as possible.

„Does it hurt when you are breathing?"

„Yeah."

„Too bad. Stopping is not an option. Not good for the healing process."

„Ow. You rat. Stop making me laugh."

Without warning he pulled out the arrowhead in one strong move.

She cried out in pain, her body convulsing and then collapsing.

„Sorry, love." He stroke her cheek gently. „Had to get this out. Stopped your laughter, though."

„Not funny."

„Yes, it is. You just have a poor sense of humour."

With a bandage he had ripped from his shirt he dressed the wound carefully.

„Press your hand on that. We need to stop the bleeding."

He stomped the little fire out with his boot so the light from inside the cave wouldn't attract unwanted attention. Peering through the rift in the rock he managed to catch a glimpse of the night sky, twinkling with stars. What a peaceful sight, he thought.

„I'll check for orcs." He started to squeeze through.

„No! Kíli, please don't. You are not well. I am not well. We cannot defend ourselves."

„We cannot wait until they find us."

„Let's wait until dawn. Please. Orcs shun sunlight. You might even get hold of a raven and tell it to fly to Erebor and get help. Please, Kíli. Don't leave me."

She sounded frightened, and he sat down again. „Alright. We wait until dawn."

Sword in hand, he moved closer to Katla and let her lean against him. He listened to her muffled breaths, knowing she was trying to suppress her sobbing. She was a soldier, but she was young. She had never been severely injured before, he reckoned. Had never had to fight for her life before.

„Hush." He put his arm around her and planted a kiss on her hair. „There is no shame in crying."

„Yes, there is. I'm a warrior."

He chuckled. „Every warrior has cried one time or another."

„Dwalin?"

„I've seen it happen."

„You're joking."

„No."

„Thorin Oakenshield?"

„Oh yes. Often."

„Now I know you are joking."

„He had a soft heart. That's what made him such a great warrior."

„Like you."

„I'm not. I'm just… dunno. Me."

She laughed softly and moaned. „Every soldier in Erebor admires you."

„Nah. I'm the odd one, remember? The one climbing trees? Sleeping outside under the night sky instead of under the mountain? The one choosing a bow for a weapon? Every dwarfling in Ered Luin teased me about that."

„Not every dwarfling."

„No," he said fondly, putting his arm around her. Katla had indeed been of the very few dwarves who hadn't slagged him for his choice of weapon. She had wanted to learn from him.

„I've always admired you for that strong will of yours."

„Call it stubbornness."

„I call it strong will, because that's what it is. And look where it got you!"

„In a cave stinking of bear droppings."

„Ow. Please. Stop making me laugh." She tried to gain her breath. „I mean it. You are Commander of the strongest army in all dwarven kingdoms. An army with archer forces no less. Because of you Erebor is the most powerful stronghold in the North."

„You have a fever."

„You're really not good with compliments, are you?"

„So you're sweet-talking me?" He grinned.

„I am telling you the truth. You are a hero, like it or not. Most of the cadets have volunteered because of you. They want you to teach them, they want you to notice them. Especially the lasses."

He snorted. „As if."

But she was right. He had noticed lasses giving him the eye. As long as they only winked and smiled he could tolerate it. He was practically a bachelor, so who could blame them? He was Erebor's Prince after all.

„Mahal, I'm tired." Katla sounded drowsy.

„Then sleep. I'll keep watch."

„Thank you."

She snuggled closer and her breathing became regular.

He only realised he had fallen asleep too when he woke with a start. There was a noise, a scraping, clawing noise at the entrance of the cave. At the same time the old wound in his leg began to burn with a searing pain. The orcs had found them.

He cursed silently and tried to wake Katla who was still sleeping pressed against his chest. It took her a while to come round and when she finally woke she was much too dizzy for his liking. She must have lost a lot of blood, he thought with a sudden fright.

„Orcs," he whispered. „Stay put."

Sword in hand he tiptoed to the cave's entrance. Judging by the sound the orcs tried to widen the rift, and it didn't take long before the first claw appeared. Having expected that, Kíli brought his blade down and chopped the grey claw right off. The screech was shrill and answered by more voices in Black Speech. He could distinguish at least five or six different voices. He could take on that many, he was relatively sure, even with a throbbing headache, a slightly dizzy feeling and the usual pain in his leg. But there could be more. He peeked out of the rift and looked right into a yellow eye.

„Shakutarbik! Shakutarbik!" The voice sounded pleased but somewhat alarmed.

„We feel you. We see you. We smell your blood. Out you come." Another voice in heavily accented Westron, deeper and more confident. The yellow eye vanished.

„Dwarf! We will not kill you. Come out and you live."

„Go away and you live," Kíli growled.

The orc laughed.

„Shakutarbik, come out. The master wants you."

„Piss off."

„I piss on you. Rramamb. Start with female. Make you watch. Make her scream."

The orc gave a command and the scratching sound came again. Debris tumbled down. Kíli tried to see what was happening and edged closer, pressing himself flat against the wall. An orcish blade shot through the rift before he could jump back and sliced his arm open. He cursed, gripped his arm and the orc gave an oily laughter. The fiend brought its face to the rift and licked Kíli's blood from its black blade in an obscene gesture.

„I drink your blood. Ha lat maushat" The orc licked its lips and let its wet tongue linger repulsively, the blood dripping on its chin, while looking the dwarf in the eye. Kíli didn't blink. He rammed his fist out and drove the orc's sword right into the offending creature's mouth.

„I don't think so."

The orc gurgled and fell backwards. Shrieks and angry roars exploded outside the cave. But the orcs withdrew.

Suddenly exhausted, Kíli had to lean against the stone wall. He was panting. His head ached badly and his vision became blurry. He had to steady himself with his hands on his knees. Mahal, he felt weak like a newborn.

„Kíli." Katla's voice was faint. „What do we do?"

„We must fight." He smelled smoke. „They are going to drive us out."

„I don't think I can."

„I will shield you as much as I can, but you must be alert. Promise me. You must fight."

„I will."

With his dagger he cut off one sleeve of his tunic and wrapped it around a branch he picked from the poor fire he had lightened earlier.

„Take this. I'll make another one for me."

Smoke filled the little cavern, and both dwarves started to cough. Kíli took off his tunic, cut it into stripes, and tied one of them over his nose and mouth. Gesturing to Katla, he gave her another piece of cloth and wrapped the rest around another branch, lightening the cloth with his flint. Setting Katla's torch on fire, he motioned her to follow him, sword drawn. The two dwarves sprang out of the cave, blazing torches in one hand, swords in the other, and fell on the orcs. Katla was holding herself up well, hitting one orc in the eye with her torch and driving her sword into another one's gut. Kíli had trouble wielding his heavy battle blade over his head with his aching shoulder and cut arm, he should have taken it into his left, he thought with regret. But when he was attacked by a massive grey body in ill-fitting spiked armour, and forced backwards, his leg nearly giving way, his warrior's instincts took over and his arm simply functioned. He swirled round with torch and sword, cutting and burning his way through his enemies, shouting battle cries for encouragement. „Baruk Khazâd!"

When someone touched his shoulder he spun round, managing only just not to behead his companion.

„It's over." Katla stared at him, wide-eyed. „They're dead."

He let his sword sink to the ground, the rush of blood still loud in his ears. Body-parts and dead orcs decorated the pine needled forest floor around him.

He nodded, slowly coming to his senses again, taking in her pale face and the fresh blood on her side.

„Come on. Let's get you back to Erebor."

He wrapped his arm around her and supported much of her weight as they stumbled out of the forest. Katla was on the verge of loosing consciousness when they finally arrived at the great road. The watch would see them and send out riders, Kíli knew, and when he heard the pounding of hooves, he gratefully waited to be collected, only barely managing to stay on his feet. Holding the limp form of the Master Archer in his arms he gestured for one the riders to lift her on his pony.

„She is gravely injured. Lost a lot of blood. Get her to the healers, quick."

„My Lord, what about you?"

„I need to see the King first."

The rider slid off his pony, offering him the reins.

„Take my steed, my Prince."

Kíli nodded and swung himself into the saddle, spurring the pony into a gallop as soon as he had mounted.

On a different day he would have enjoyed riding right into the mighty kingdom of Erebor, galloping over the stone bridges and through elegant corridors, halting just before the King's throne in a sliding stop. Fíli jumped up in alarm.

„Durin's ass! Kíli! Are you out of your mind?"

Then Fíli saw the blood on his face and arm, and the anger melted into worry. „What happened to you?"

„Orcs," he panted. „Attacked us on the riverbank near the pine grove."

Fíli's eyes turned to steel. „How many?"

„No more than ten or twelve. All dead. But I bet they belonged to a bigger pack. They were much too confident for strays."

„And too near." Fíli nodded. He gestured to his personal guard. „See to this. Bring one for questioning, one of the higher ranks. Second or third in command. Kill the others."

Kíli started to mount his pony again. „I show you where they attacked us."

„No need. The soldiers will take care of the pack. You let yourself be treated in the infirmary." Fíli smiled. „I think I might escort you. Just to make sure you arrive at the healers."

Kíli rolled his eyes. „Unlike our uncle I have a sense of direction, you know."

„You have a sense for trouble." Fíli put his arm round his shoulder. „I look the other way and you are on that pony again hunting orcs. But you need to see a healer. You look terrible."

„It was a close call," Kíli admitted. „Katla is badly injured. Most of the blood on me is hers."

„Is she taken care of?"

He nodded.

„Ari was killed."

„I'm sorry."

„Me too." He sighed. „Come on. Say it."

„Say what?"

„That I should have taken guards with me."

„You know it. So why should I say anything?"

„I'm so fed up with being pampered all the time. Honestly, I didn't think we would encounter trouble."

„Of course you didn't. And most of the times you don't. I know of those hunting trips on your own. I know you need to get out of here from time to time. I will not chain you to Erebor's rock, you know."

„No?"

Fíli stopped dead in his tracks. „I won't keep you here against your will. If it is truly your wish to leave for Khazad-dûm, I will not stand in your way. I just want you to think about what you are giving up. What you are about to lose."

„Lose?" He let out a hollow laugh. „I have nothing to lose."

His brother regarded him, hurt edged into his handsome features. „If that is how you feel, I suppose you must go." He resumed walking, his shoulders bent.

Dammit.

„Fee." Kíli limped after him. „I didn't mean it like that."

His brother shrugged. „That's how you feel. It is alright. You are only being honest."

„Come on, nadad. You know I love you and your dwarflings."

„Not enough to stay, evidently."

„Don't say that. I did stay for you, back then."

They looked at each other in silence until Fíli lowered his gaze.

„I know," he said quietly. „I can never make up for this."

„Don't." Kíli clasped his brother's upper arms, looking him sternly in the eye. „Don't take the blame for something that was my decision alone."

„You would never have left her hadn't it been for me."

„She left me."

„She didn't. She left Erebor. You should have gone with her. Mahal, you would have gone right into the Halls of Mandos and back for her."

„It's long ago. Don't bother yourself with it."

„You bother me. I worry about you."

Kíli grinned. „You always worry about me. But you don't have to. I'm fine."

„No, you're not. You are lonely."

„With your dwarflings conquering my room before dawn and flinging themselves on me in my sleep? How can I be lonely?"

„Do not lie to me. You are getting more and more reckless because you think there is nothing here for you. And when you ride out and come back in a mess like this…" Fíli bit his lip. „I am scared. Tell me what to do."

„Nothing. You are here with me, that's all I need. I am fine, truly."

He closed his arms around his brother, hoping Fíli would feel that he was speaking the truth. He needed his brother more than anyone.

Fíli hugged him tight. „Anything I can do for you, I will."

„I know." Kíli smiled fondly. „Lend me your arm to get to the infirmary?"

„You took your time." Graurr, the Chief Healer, grumbled. „The other has been looked after and tucked in a sickbed a good while ago. She is sleeping now."

„How is she?"

„Weak. Lost a lot of blood but nothing serious. Next time you leave extracting an arrow to me, young hotspur. The lass will get quite a scar because of your attempt to butcher her."

„I thought…"

„Leave that to those with more experience," the old healer cut him off.

„Hey. I am still your Prince."

„I am the Chief Healer, lad. In here, my word counts more than yours."

Kíli sighed and let Graurr examine his wounds and bruises.

When the healer's cool fingers came up to the gash on his forehead, he flinched.

Graurr nodded. „Quite a hole you got in your head there. Feel dizzy?"

„A little."

Graurr held up three fingers. „How many?"

„Too many. Get them out of my face."

The healer wriggled his fingers, tapping them on Kíli's nose. „How many?"

„Three. But I'm about to bite one off if you continue."

„Rabies." Graurr nodded. „Not unheard of after being injured by orcs. You might want an injection in your rear."

„Funny. Just clean the wound, will you?"

„I have to cut some of your hair."

„Never!"

„I can comb out all the grime and blood if you wish, my Lord Prince," Graurr said viciously. „But it will hurt as if Durin's Axe was splitting your skull."

Kíli decided he was not at all vain. „Alright then. Cut it."

„As you wish, my Prince."

„Bugger."

After being treated and dismissed, Kíli caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror and whined.

A thick, white bandage was wrapped around his head, a short tuft of unruly hair stood up like badly cut black grass. The complete right side of his face was bruised and purple, his eye swollen shut. He looked ridiculous.