A/N: Happy New Year guys! Firstly, I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and favourited – your response has blown me away and given me the best start to 2013. Secondly, a note on pairings: there aren't going to be any explicit pairings in 'Family Tree', but this is an equal-opportunity fic; I don't mind my readers shipping who they want – hopefully there will be enough angst and fluff and tension to keep everyone satisfied! Now, on with Chapter Two...
"Now that you're here though, don't you feel somehow undone?"
Fíli had already felt sick to the stomach before he was pulled onto the back of Elladan's horse, and so the short journey to Rivendell did nothing for his nerves. He gripped the saddle so tightly that the dried, red-brown blood cracked over the knuckles of his left hand, revealing white skin beneath. It was the hand he had held against Kíli's chest in a desperate attempt to stem the flow of blood. Fíli's eyes moved from his knuckles to the front of their new company, trying to glimpse Kíli; he caught sight of his brother's limp arm before Elrond turned abruptly into a narrow passage-way between the towering formations of rock. The path was wider than the tunnel in which the dwarves had taken brief shelter, but would admit only one horse at a time, and so the company fell into single file. In the impaired light of the passage, Fíli felt the jaunty movements of Elladan's horse more acutely, and he wished he had Daisy back.
Light suddenly broke out ahead, and as each horse passed out of the dark, a hush fell over the company. Entering the valley, Fíli peered around Elladan and let out an audible gasp. Rivendell, glistening in the afternoon light, was a spectrum of red and gold and green; a rare gem nestled into the nook of the mountain, surrounded by silver ribbons of waterfalls. Their roar reached Fíli's ears and sounded like the wind.
Sensing his rider's awe, Elladan said with a small smile: "Welcome to the Valley of Imladris, Master Fíli."
The company followed the mountain path and soon reached Rivendell. Riding into the paved square, the horses clustered, and Elladan moved his horse to the front of the group to join his father. Fíli could now get a proper look at his brother, but what he saw made his heart sink. Kíli sat limply against Elrond, his bloodied head lolling forward on his chest, which was covered in dark blood that had spread out from the wound under his collarbone. Thorin appeared to have fared even worse; Gandalf kept a firm hold of him, and the wizard's grey robes bore several black smudges of blood.
"Lindir!" Elrond's voice tore Fíli's gaze away from Thorin.
An elf, clad in deep purple, had arrived to greet them. The shock clearly registered on his face as he looked from Kíli to Thorin. "My Lord Elrond?" he said uncertainly, tensing when he caught Fíli's eye.
"Send word ahead to our healers, tell them we have two very sick dwarves on the way," Elrond ordered. When Lindir appeared reluctant to leave, his gaze moving slowly from dwarf to dwarf, Elrond added: "Now, Lindir!"
The elf seemed to regain himself; with a quick nod he turned on his heel and rushed back up the steps as if he couldn't wait to get away. Fíli was the first dwarf to dismount, he landed hard on the paving stones, and went quickly to Elrond's side. The rest of Thorin's company returned their feet to the ground with relief, their faces bearing a hint of green; the ride had clearly been uncomfortable for all. They crowded around Kíli and Thorin, helping Elrond and Gandalf dismount.
Elrond took Kíli up easily in his arms, then looked behind him. "Elladan, Elrohir," he called, then spoke in Elvish, indicating Gandalf and Thorin.
Fíli did a double-take when another elf came to Elladan's side; there was no mistaking him to be anyone other than Elladan's brother. The two elves gently lifted Thorin between them, then followed their father who had set off up the steps, carrying the younger dwarf. Fíli fought to keep up with Elrond's long strides, hearing his heartbeat once again in his ears. He turned to check the other dwarves were following, and as he did he heard Glóin mutter: "Thorin will never forgive us for this." A lead weight dropped in Fíli's stomach and he swallowed hard; he knew Glóin was right. But then he felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned to see Bofur smiling at him.
"He'll get over it," Bofur whispered. "Don't you worry, lad."
Fíli tried to smile in return, but he couldn't manage it. Elrond led them through a labyrinth of beautifully carved wooden passage-ways until they reached a room away from the sounds of the waterfalls. The room held four beds with the whitest sheets Fíli had ever seen, and shelves ran the full length of the walls, holding an array of books and jars and vials. As they entered three elves, joined by Lindir, came to meet them. The only woman of the group, an elf with dark hair falling to her waist who bore a striking resemblance to Elrond's sons, stepped forward first and Elrond froze.
"Arwen," he said, failing to mask his surprise. "This is not a task for you."
"I have the powers to heal, this is my task," Arwen replied curtly.
Elrond moved into the room, Fíli following close behind him, and carefully placed Kíli on the furthest bed from the door. Elladan and Elrohir settled Thorin onto the bed closest to them, so that uncle and nephew were at a diagonal to each other. Arwen came to Elrond's side and they began a heated discussion in Elvish. Fíli tried to follow their facial expressions in the vain hope of understanding them, but their conversation was cut short by a sharp crack. Fíli looked over to Thorin's bed to see one of the healers holding half an arrow; on trying to remove it from Thorin's leg he had snapped the shaft, leaving the tip still embedded in Thorin's thigh. Elrond let out an exasperated sigh and moved to Thorin's bed, though he had to weave through a crowd of dwarves to get there. After speaking stern words to the offending healer, he turned to address the room.
"We cannot work in such chaos," he said gravely. "Lindir, speak with our kitchens and have them prepare dinner for our guests, and ensure sleeping quarters are ready for them after their meal." He surveyed Thorin's company. "If you would kindly follow Lindir..."
Lindir's look of discomfort returned, but he gave a short bow to Lord Elrond and disappeared from the room. The dwarves were not quick to follow him and glanced at each other uncertainly.
"I... I would rather stay," Fíli spoke up, looking to Elrond. "I will not leave my brother and my uncle." He knew he was hardly setting an example, but no power in all of Middle Earth was going to tear him away from Kíli at that moment.
Elrond returned an assenting nod, and Gandalf gave Ori a nudge with the end of his staff as he was closest to the door. "Come along now, Master Ori, and the rest of you, do not refuse Lord Elrond's hospitality."
Ori, flanked by his brothers, was the first to leave the sickroom, followed by Glóin and Óin, then Bifur and Bombur, with Bofur tugging on a reluctant Bilbo's arm. Dwalin and Balin lingered the longest, and Dwalin turned to Fíli.
"Do you want me to stay, laddie?" Dwalin asked gruffly. It was only when he cracked his tattooed knuckles that Fíli realised he was offering his services as a body-guard.
"Oh, er, no thank you, Dwalin," Fíli replied, his voice faltering. "I think we can manage."
Dwalin only gave a grunt in response, glared at all in the room for a final time, then stalked out with his brother at his side. It took Fíli a moment to register what had just happened... On their way to Bag End, Kíli had never stopped talking about 'Mister Dwalin', and the two brothers had long been in awe of this famed warrior. Dwalin had hardly spoken to Fíli on their journey, and never once asked him a question before... Now he was treating him like an equal, or more than that...
Fíli was dragged from his thoughts by a soft groan from Kíli. With Elrond and Gandalf attending to Thorin, Arwen had begun to treat Kíli's injuries. She had opened his coat and shirt and was inspecting the wound left by the arrow in his chest. Fíli felt his stomach knot and unknot itself as he stared at his brother in this miserable state. He reached out and took Kíli's hand in his own, squeezing it and closing his eyes, he murmured: "Can you save him?"
"I promise you we will do all in our power, Fíli, son of Dís," Arwen replied gently. "But I do not think your brother will abandon you so easily."
Fíli opened his eyes, studying the elf in shock, unsure of how she knew who he was or how to answer her. Instead he looked away, to the other corner of the room, where another healer, Elrond, and Gandalf were leaning over Thorin. They had removed his furs, coat, and shirt to get a closer look at the wounds left by the warg's teeth across his abdomen. That was when Fíli noticed the key hanging on a chain around Thorin's neck; the key to a secret door in the Lonely Mountain, the cornerstone of their quest, handed down through generations. Gandalf reached out and carefully removed the chain and key from around Thorin's neck, he looked up to see Fíli watching him, then stored it quickly away in his robes.
Fíli focused his gaze on the flames flickering in the grate on the other side of the room. When darkness had fallen, the elves had lit a fire and posted several candles around the room, which cast eerie shadows, so long they looked like swords, on the walls. Settled in a chair by Kíli's bed, Fíli hadn't moved at all that evening, and the disastrous events of the afternoon seemed so very long ago. Concerned that his brother was too far away from the fire, Fíli had sought out more blankets, and now Kíli lay snugly in his bed, with his chest and shoulder bandaged and the blood wiped from his face so that Fíli almost recognised him. His broken nose had been cracked back into place, and the deep gash running the length of his forehead had been cleaned and stitched. Thorin lay still in his bed by the door, his broken arm in a sling, and his thigh and abdomen wrapped in tight bandages. He appeared to have been dealt a more severe blow from the orc's mace than Kíli, and two deep, red lines ran parallel across his face, from his cheek, across his nose to his forehead, and across his chin to his cheek.
Fíli started when there was a knock on the door; he hadn't had time to reply when Bilbo entered, carrying a steaming bowl. The hobbit smiled at him meekly as he approached Kíli's bed. "I thought you could use some food," he explained, holding the bowl out to him.
Taking the bowl, Fíli caught a whiff of familiar cooking. "This doesn't smell like Elvish food," he said, managing his first smile of the evening.
"Well, the others didn't seem too impressed by Lord Elrond's banquet," Bilbo admitted. "So Bofur and Bombur threw a stew together... Though I'm not so sure they should have lit a fire on the wooden floor of our room."
After a moment's pause, Bilbo turned to leave, but Fíli stopped him: "Please, stay."
"I wouldn't be disturbing you?" Bilbo asked doubtfully.
"Well, Kíli and Thorin haven't been the most lively company this evening," Fíli smiled, then felt a twinge of pain in his chest for making a joke at his family's expense. Hoping Bilbo hadn't read the pain in his expression, he turned to the stew, poking at the meat with his spoon.
"You're not hungry?" Bilbo asked, after a few more moments of silence, sitting down on the opposite side of Kíli's bed.
"No," Fíli sighed, giving up pretences and depositing the bowl on Kíli's bedside table. "What I really want is my pipe... But the healers have asked me not to smoke in here; they say it would be bad for Kíli and Thorin."
"How very odd," Bilbo replied, musing on this revelation. "But if you want your pipe, I don't mind staying here whilst you join the others."
"Thank you," Fíli said warmly, trying to hide the ache that even the mere thought of separation had brought on. "But I don't really want to leave them... Not just yet."
Bilbo nodded, understanding. The two fell into a long silence. Bilbo was about to suggest his leaving, when Fíli said quietly: "Our mother didn't want us to come, you know. It took weeks of arguing before she gave in."
Bilbo leaned forward, but didn't say anything, sensing Fíli wasn't finished speaking.
"It wasn't just us she was worried about," Fíli continued, glancing over at Thorin's bed. "She said to me: "Fíli, your uncle has had a hard life, don't you and Kíli go making it any harder for him."" Fíli closed his eyes and felt the hint of saltwater sting at them. "I was supposed to be looking after both of them... But I suppose this isn't the first time I've failed Kíli."
When Fíli didn't look like he could go on, Bilbo whispered a gentle "Tell me."
"It was when we were children, back in the Blue Mountains," Fíli explained. "Mother put me in charge of Kíli, told me not to let him leave my sight... So, of course, I suggested we play a game of hide and seek. But Kíli found his way to the smithy and a sword had been left out to cool by the forge. He couldn't reach the handle so he wrapped his hand around the blade."
Fíli reached out and slowly turned his brother's right hand towards Bilbo; there were two white scars of raised skin running the length of Kíli's palm. "Half the dwarves in the Blue Mountains heard his screams. Mother was beyond furious. I ran away and hid in the store room larder, squeezing myself under the bottom shelf... It was Thorin who found me. But he wasn't angry and he didn't try to drag me out. He just sat down on the floor and talked me round. When I finally crept out he pulled me into his lap and held me whilst I cried... That was the last decent conversation I had with my uncle. Since then he's always been so distant with me."
Bilbo followed Fíli's gaze, his eyes resting on Thorin. "None of this is your fault... You do know that, don't you?"
Fíli's gaze moved back to Kíli. "It's kind of you to say so."
Sensing Fíli's need to be alone, Bilbo rose from his chair. "I best be going," he murmured. "The others all send their good wishes."
"Thank them and send mine in return," Fíli replied, but his mind was already far away and he never saw Bilbo leave.
It was true he and Kíli had been so desperate to join their uncle on his quest, but now that they had, Fíli felt an emptiness and an unravelling inside himself... He had never expected any of this to happen. How would he face his mother? Sitting in the darkened room with his brother and his uncle, he had never felt so alone. But part of this was a familiar feeling... He knew, and had always felt, that Thorin preferred Kíli over him. Jealousy begun in childhood had only been rekindled on this quest for Erebor; he had not missed the in-jokes they shared, or failed to notice the time Thorin spent helping Kíli practice his swordsmanship. He had tried to convince himself this was because Thorin thought Kíli needed all the help he could get, but he had never been sure. As the first-born son, Fíli knew he was Thorin's heir, and had carried that weight ever since he could remember, but he couldn't help wondering if Thorin wished Kíli had his brother's place.
Fíli was dragged from his thoughts by a soft groan from Thorin. Looking up he saw that his uncle's breathing had become heavy and laboured, and a sweat had broken out on his forehead. Rushing to his side, Fíli put a hand on his uncle's shoulder. "Thorin?" he breathed.
"Kíli!" Thorin gasped out, but then his chest fell, and Thorin breathed no more.