Thank you all so much for your kind reviews! Time for some hurt!Fíli, some brotherly moments, a (brief) supernatural trip down memory lane and the introduction of a few more dwarves.


4: The fear of losing

Dean reached the spot where Óin, Thorin and the black-haired youth were huddled around Thorin's nephew. The latter was obviously awake, but his eyes were half closed and his forehead was covered with sweat. He whimpered when the healer touched the sewn-up wound, and his brother bit his lip as he laid his hand onto the blonde hair.

"Shh, Fee, it's okay."

"It hurts…" the blonde whispered, and the healer looked sharply at his brother.

"What happened, Kíli?"

"I don't know," he replied helplessly. "I thought he was fine, but then he stirred and woke up and he was all hot to the touch, said he was hurting, and he said he was cold but how can he be cold?"

His dark eyes were shining with anxiety, worry for his brother seeming to take its toll on the young one.

"I thought you cleaned the wound, Óin," said Thorin, "but he shows all signs of infection."

"I did clean it," answered Óin rather sharply. He probed Fíli's wound gently, barely touching it, but still the young dwarf writhed underneath him, strangled moans escaping his otherwise shut mouth. He was shivering violently, his head still resting in Kíli's lap, and the young dwarf's eyes darted from Óin to Thorin and back.

"What's happening?" His voice sounded fearful and almost child-like, and Dean wondered how young he actually was. He didn't even have a beard, only dark stubbles covering his chin which made him look almost like a man from the real world, if you didn't take into account the fact that he was only half the average size of a man.

"I think it's not the warg wound that's causing him trouble," mumbled Óin thoughtfully. Carefully he pulled up Fíli's sleeve, and Dean wasn't the only one gasping at the sight. The formerly clean bandages were stained with dark blood.

"Durin's beard, that's bad!" exclaimed a dwarf with a huge, funny hat who had suddenly appeared behind Thorin, and Óin shot him a warning look as Kíli's growing fear became even more visible on his white face.

"Maybe I've overlooked something," he said. "Keep still, Fíli, I'll try not to hurt you."

Carefully he took off the bloody bandage, with one eye on his patient who was breathing raggedly under his brother's firm hands. Dean's insides twisted to a knot when he looked at the wound. It couldn't have been more than a cut before, but blood was pooling from it and the skin around it was of an angry red colour.

Óin gently touched the dwarf's arm, and Fíli screamed. The sound of agony tore at Dean's insides, and he felt himself dropping to his knees and grasping the youth's legs as he tried to wriggle away from the healer and Kíli's iron grip on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Fíli!", Óin called out, and the other dwarves stood and watched with shock in their eyes as Thorin laid both hands onto his nephew's torso in order to pin him down.

"Make it stop!" gasped the blonde, staring wide-eyed at his brother, "Make it stop, please!"

But all Óin could do was clean the wound again, and eventually Fili's hoarse screams died away until he was laying shivering on the ground, quiet but for an occasional moan in between laboured breaths. Dean released his firm grip on the dwarf's legs, but remained kneeling on the earthy ground, unable to look away from the brothers.

Kíli was still in the same position he'd been in ever since Óin had first tended to Fíli, and he didn't look like he'd change it soon. He was bent over, his face almost touching his brother's, and he was murmuring soothing words that Dean barely heard.

"Gurùd mabakh, nadad."

"But it hurts. Like… fire. Everywhere. Hurts, Kee."

"Aktùbi, Fíli. I know."

Their language sounded strange to Dean, but there was a softness in Kíli's voice that made it seem warm and friendly. The blonde dwarf seemed to relax a little, but he was still shivering despite the heat radiating from his fevered body.

"What's wrong with him?" asked a timid-looking young dwarf, staring at his friend. Óin looked helplessly at his patient.

"I'm not sure, Ori. Something's not right with that wound. That's not an ordinary infection."

"What do you mean by that?" came Kíli's choked answer. "Can you do nothing?"

"I've heard that sometimes orcish blades can be poisoned," replied Óin quietly, and when Kíli gasped and pressed his hand more firmly onto his brother's shoulder the healer turned to Thorin.

"I'm afraid this is beyond my power, Thorin. If it is indeed orcish poison, then it's evil magic against which I am powerless."

"And what would that mean for Fíli?" asked Thorin sharply. The healer didn't reply immediately, and the black-haired dwarf took a step further towards him. "Will – my – nephew – live?"

"I fear he will not last the night."

The words were almost inaudible, but they felt like thunder in Dean's ears. He heard Sam inhale deeply behind him, but all he could do was staring at the two young brothers in front of him. The blonde one was laying almost still, his body being wracked with shivers from time to time, and his eyes were pressed shut as if by keeping them closed he could keep away the pain that was written all over his face. The dark-haired brother was caressing his hair while tears were running unchecked down his pale face.

"No, no, no," he was muttering, and it was a sound of such misery and fear that Dean felt his own eyes burning as memories of the past flooded his mind. Memories of holding Sam in the dirt, feeling his life leaving him, wet blood sticky on his hands when his world was crashing down around him. Memories of sitting next to a still, deadly-pale Sam, when he had nothing left to lose.

"No, no, no! Don't die on me, Fee. Don't do that to me, don't you dare!"

It's not even that bad, alright? Sammy, Sam! Hey, listen to me, we are going to patch you up, okay... You'll be as good as new. I'm going to take care of you. I'm going to take care of you. I gotcha. It's my job, right, watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother... Sam... Sam... Sam! Sammy!

Dean thought that if a heart could break, he would find the shattered remains of Kíli's heart on this bloodstained forest ground.

"I won't. Someone's got to look out for you," answered Fíli, his voice strained and raspy, and Kíli pressed his forehead onto his brother's for a brief moment.

"There is one place where we could find help," said the white-bearded dwarf quietly. Kíli's head shot up at the words, a sparkle of hope flickering in his shining dark eyes. Thorin eyed his friend wearily.

"No, Balin. Not them."

His voice had a bitter tone as he spoke, and Sam watched sympathetically as Kíli's face fell at his uncle's words.

"What do you mean? Who are they?"

But the black-haired leader ignored the younger one and looked sharply at Balin instead.

"I will not give my nephew into the hands of the elves."

"Elvish medicine might be his only chance," muttered Óin.

"Gandalf..."

"Gandalf is gone to Mahal knows where, Thorin!" cried Ori, his young voice hitching as his brown eyes went from his leader to his friend on the ground. "Fíli needs help now!"

"Thorin knows that," intervened another dwarf, who laid his hand onto the younger one's shoulder. He looked almost as grim as the tattooed Dwalin, thought Sam, with his bulky stature and the battle axe in his hands, black sticky blood still dripping from the blade.

"But Dori -"

"Shut up, both of you!" gnarled Dwalin, and not only Ori and Dori, but everyone flinched. There was something intimidating about the rather tall dwarf. But his fierce expression changed when he knelt down next to Fíli, laying one hand onto his forehead.

"How do you feel, laddie?"

The blonde opened his eyes, a hint of surprise reflected from his blue orbs. Sam could only guess that he hadn't expected the grim warrior Dwalin, of all dwarves, to ask this. He lifted himself up a little and seemed to think for a second before he answered.

"I'm cold," he said hoarsely, and a tremor ran through his body as if to prove his statement. Dwalin narrowed his eyes at that point, but waited for Fíli to say more. "But... but my arm is on fire. Hurts."

He exhaled audibly, closing his eyes and letting his head sink into Kíli's lap again.

"You'll be fine," whispered his brother, "we'll find the elves and they'll patch you up. We'll be off again in no time and get to the Lonely Moun-"

"Kíli!"

Thorin shot his nephew a warning look. For a split second it seemed to Sam that the young one wanted to say more, but then decided against it and focused on his brother instead.

"We'll get you better, Fee. Mahgandi, nadad."

"Aktûbi. Dijnûi zu, nadadith. "

Sam couldn't understand the words, but they held a kind of intimacy that made him feel almost uncomfortable just looking at the brothers. They seemed to communicate not only by their foreign language, but also by mere looks and subliminal gestures. Sam was sure that were they suddenly blind and deaf, they would somehow still be able to understand each other. He knew that feeling, and he wondered if he would ever find it again.


A/N:

Gurùd mabakh, nadad. = Fear nothing, brother.

Mahgandi, nadad. = I promise, brother.

Aktûbi. Dijnûi zu, nadadith. = I know. I trust you, little brother.

PLEASE correct me if I got the Khuzdul wrong! I used this awesome website (dwarrowscholar) but I'm not sure if I got the grammar right. (So if I ever have too much time and no ideas for new stories, I might just try to learn Khuzdul. If I made it through French grammar, Khuzdul can't be that difficult ;))

I would have loved to see some more brotherly moments between Fíli and Kíli in Bard's house, apart from that brief scene in which Óin was tending to Kíli's leg and Fíli was standing next to the bed. So I reversed their roles here - hoping for a nice scene in the extended edition!