AN: I forgot to post this here, my bad!

If one tries to navigate unknown waters,
one runs the risk of shipwreck.

Chapter 3: Montu

Kíli breathed in and out quickly; sweat dripping down the side of his face as he eyed the man across from him heatedly. Nori was quick and unpredictable with the way he moved, one of the most experienced fighters in the army. He fought low to the ground, and he fought dirty. He was the best person to train Kíli in hand to hand combat. Fíli watched from close by, lecturing the Pharaoh when he failed to react in time or made a careless mistake, and lecturing Nori when he got a bit too reckless with his daggers. Every now and then the other soldiers would shout something as the two grappled or crossed blades. Bofur in particular was rather vocal. The cheerful man was always the first to praise him, and the first to laugh when he screwed up.

The dagger in his hand slid within his sweaty grip, and Kíli tightened his fingers around the hilt, keeping his eyes on the redheaded man circling around him. He knew Nori was treating him more carefully than he would another soldier, but it was still difficult for Kíli to keep up. He found it hard to move quickly with his cane, and he was limited to acting only in defense. The redhead jerked slightly and Kíli flinched, his cheeks flushing when he realised the other man was trying to trick him. Nori snorted, twirling his blades around in his fingers carelessly. It made the brunet frown in irritation, and he had to take a deep breath to keep from getting angered. He was caught by surprise when the soldier suddenly lunged, swiping swiftly with one of his daggers and Kíli urged his body to dive out of the way so he could avoid the attack.

And avoid it he did. The blade swung past him with just a few inches to spare. But the sudden movement threw Kíli off, and he tottered awkwardly on his bad foot for a moment before falling to the ground with a grunt. It hurt more than he cared to admit, and when Nori hurried to help him up Kíli swung out with his cane angrily, tripping the other man in return. The redhead yelped in surprise and landed hard, groaning on the ground beside him. It didn't take long for Kíli to realise what he'd done, and he scrambled to his hands and knees and stared at the fallen man with wide eyes.

"Sorry!" Kíli cried, feeling bad for using such a cheap trick, but Nori chuckled lowly, and rolled onto his back to reveal a sly grin, while Fíli laughed heartily nearby.

"You're learning. There are no rules in battle," Fíli said, and he yanked Kíli upright, casting his gaze over the Pharaoh's form. The brunet sported a few bruises and minor cuts, but nothing serious, and Fíli patted him on the shoulder gently before moving away. "That's enough for now, take a break."

The blond unsheathed his weapons, walking towards Nori with a hint of a smirk, and a few seconds later the two men were caught up in their own dance of blades. Fíli moved like liquid light, twisting and turning to avoid each of Nori's attacks, almost as though he knew where they were coming before they even started. His hair flipped around his neck and shoulders like a mane, and his eyes gleamed as they focused on every movement around him. Nori was a formidable foe, but he could do nothing to counter the commander's ruthless attacks.

Kíli took a seat atop some wooden boxes to watch the fight, and he flinched when Nori went flying to the ground after taking an elbow to his jaw. The man coughed a few times but got back up, grin still in place, and the two were back to sparring not long after. He only pulled his gaze away when Bofur sidled up next to him and left out a hefty sigh.

"That dagger suits you well," he commented, eyeing the borrowed weapon Kíli still held in between his fingers, and the brunet hurried to sheath it before handing it back. "Keep it. I'm sure it's not as beautiful as some, but that metal is from the stars. It'll protect you," Bofur claimed. Kíli stared at him for some time before finally muttering his thanks and strapping the sheath to his leg. He hadn't thought he'd make so many bonds with the people in his command, but the men who trained him treated him like one of their own. It was refreshing.

The sound of laughter brought Kíli's attention back to the men fighting not far away, and he couldn't help but smile when he spotted Nori spitting out a face full of mud at Fíli's feet. The redhead looked suitably annoyed, but when Fíli taunted him he groaned and stood, determined to give it another go. The fight continued, the commander twisting around Nori's blades once more.

"I've never seen someone move like that before," Kíli whispered.

"He's a fearsome warrior, I wouldn't want to face him on the battlefield," Bofur admitted, and he leaned over to nudge Kíli gently in the side. "Easy on the eyes too," he added. Kíli flushed at the comment, but nodded slowly, lowering his gaze briefly before returning it to Fíli's solid form. The muscles in his back shifted as he swung his blades, and he was coated in a light sheen of sweat that caught the light with every movement. There was no disputing the fact that Fíli was an attractive man. Kíli shifted uncomfortably in his seat and clasped his fingers nervously together. He could sense Bofur studying him, and it only made the flush spread further. The other man eased down onto the box beside him, and placed a hand on the brunet's back. When Kíli met his eyes they lacked any judgement, but the concern on his face was plain to see.

"Be careful, my Pharaoh. The heart can lead us into dangerous places," he warned, and Kíli slumped slightly in response. If his heart guided him, how was he meant to fight its pull?

He couldn't keep the grin off his face as the scenery flew by, and Kíli steadied his bow as he saw one of the targets they'd set up getting closer in the distance. The chariot felt a bit unsteady beneath his weak foot, but Fíli's steady presence at his back and firm hand across his torso comforted him. The commander held him upright, grasping him tightly whenever they hit a particularly jarring bit of land. Kíli focused his eyes, ignoring the stray hairs fluttering over his nose and face, and he steadied his bow before letting his arrow soar. He could barely hear the thwack against the target over the loud thumping of hooves, but he saw the moment the arrow hit its mark and laughed happily when the commander tugged him closer.

"Good!" Fíli shouted in his ear, and Kíli gleamed in delight at the praise. He'd hit all ten targets, only missing the very middle on one. It was a worthy showing for a Pharaoh. If only he didn't require the help of another to do so.

"Someday I'd like to ride one by myself," Kíli voiced as the chariot began to slow. The horses ahead cantered lightly back towards the stables and Kíli almost wished he could do another circle. But his bad leg was aching already from the constant jarring motions, and he knew it was best not to overdo it. His eyes wandered towards the crowd across the field, where soldiers raced against one another on a simple track. They moved far faster than Kíli had gone, charging ahead and leaving large trails of dust in their wake.

"I want to race like them," Kíli whispered as the chariot halted, and Fíli jumped down and held out his hand for the brunet to grasp. The Pharaoh winced as he stepped down, and when he met the other man's eyes he frowned.

"Don't, I know what you're going to say," Kíli muttered. "That I'm too weak, too young," he said mockingly, his eyes rolling as he grabbed his cane from a waiting servant. "I'm nearly an adult," he finished with a huff. The commander reached over the brunet's shoulders to unlatch his holster, and grabbed the bow from his hands without comment. Fíli followed Kíli as he made his way to the stable alongside the horses, stopping while the handler eased them into their cubbies. Kíli approached, pressing his nose against each horse in thanks before offering them food and patting them down. He knew it wasn't his job, but it was soothing work, and he liked spending time with the animals.

"You are getting taller," Fíli commented as he watched from just outside the stall. Kíli turned his head slightly, observing as the other man's blue irises passed slowly over his form, and he wondered what the commander saw when he looked at him. Was he unimpressed by his slight stature and curved spine? Bothered as much by the sight of his malformed foot? Disgusted even that someone like Kíli could become a Pharaoh at all? It was impossible to tell just by looking. The commander nearly always kept his emotions hidden away.

"When you stop growing I will put in a request with Gloin. See if he can make something more suited to your needs," Fíli spoke quietly, and Kíli's eyes widened and he whipped his head completely towards the blond.

"Really?" he asked, his lips already rising as he showed off his teeth in a hearty smile.

"Don't get too excited, my Pharaoh, It will be a while yet," Fíli said cooly. Kíli smirked and turned back to face the horse. He patted the side of its neck gently and then ran his fingers through the coarse mane. He couldn't stop grinning and when he peered out of the corner of his eyes he noticed Fíli also sported a tiny smile instead of his impassive mask. The Pharaoh's heart skipped a little and he took a deep breath before backing away from the horse and grasping his cane.

"I have a name you know," Kíli muttered, lifting his chin as he looked up at the blond from beneath dark eyelashes. "You should call me by it."

Kíli squeezed past the commander, just barely brushing against his side as he exited the stable. For once the threat and worry of being Pharaoh was completely absent from his mind. He was excited to see what sort of chariot he might one day claim as his own. And though he knew racing was likely a distant and unreachable goal, the idea of riding by himself made him feel a little more worthy of his title. Kíli ignored the pain he felt in his hip and leg, holding his head high as he made his way back to the palace. He couldn't help but straighten his shoulders and stand tall as he sauntered as confidently as one could with a cane, and Fíli's blue gaze followed him the entire way.

The map spread out before him did not look promising. The Naharin armies were attacking at their borders and each day the ground lost was a little bit greater. Kíli stared at the marks that represented his soldiers, taking in the difference in quantity and their compromising position. If they did not do something soon he risked losing his kingdom entirely. They could not afford to give the enemy any more of their land. Kíli would not have his people put at such risk.

The most frustrating part of it all was that the people they were fighting had once been their greatest ally. The Naharin had fought alongside the Pharaohs for years and their kingdoms had sworn to protect one another. But his father had betrayed them, signing treaties with other kingdoms, abandoning those he once swore to protect. And now they were at war because of it. Kíli pursed his lips, once again cursing his father's inexplicable decisions. His advisors stood on either side, for once silent and unable to offer any solution, and Kíli frowned and directed his gaze towards the commander across from him.

"Our only choice is to send in the remaining soldiers and hope it is enough to hold them off. I can lead an attack tonight under the cover of nightfall. My men are better equipped for fighting in the shadows. If we catch their armies by surprise, we may have a chance. We'll place our troops at these locations and surround them," Fíli explained, pointing to a few key areas on the map, and Kíli nodded in agreement.

"I will go with you," the Pharaoh claimed, receiving three identical looks of disbelief.

"No, absolutely not," Fíli growled as he slammed his hand down atop the table. Kíli narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms as he glared at the blond man angrily.

"What was the point of teaching me, of training me, if not to fight?" Kíli asked in irritation, and the commander pushed himself away from the table.

"I was not teaching you to attack, I was teaching you to defend. There is a difference," the blond scolded. Kíli bristled at his tone and threw his arms out to his sides.

"I want to fight with my army!" he shouted, staring the soldier down with angry eyes. It had little effect on the stoic man.

"It is no place for you," Fíli spoke lowly. Kíli gritted his teeth when Balin reached over to touch his arm, and he swatted the elder man's hand away and grabbed his cane, making his way around the table to stare the blond man down.

"I'm not a child anymore!" Kíli insisted as he approached, and the commander's jaw twitched as he turned to face him head on.

"And in which chariot do you propose to ride into battle?" Fíli asked sarcastically. "Or were you planning to have one of my soldiers hold you up the entire time?" Kíli flushed in embarrassment at the comment, his grasp tightening on his cane. "My men are not your servants, and I cannot sacrifice their skill in battle for you," The blond insisted, and Kíli lowered his brow and flared his nostrils.

"All of the people in this kingdom are my servants. I'm your Pharaoh, and you would be wise to treat me with respect," the brunet spat, but Fíli did not cower at his words. He leaned in close, forcing Kíli to stagger backwards slightly.

"Do not talk to me of respect," Fíli seethed. His face morphed in his anger, his teeth bared like a wild animal. His eyes were like a hawk's, sharp and unwavering as they stared Kíli down. "I respect each and every man I fight alongside. They have fought with me, defended me, shed blood for me. They would die for me and I them. Are you prepared to do that? Are you prepared to die for each person that stands next to you as you march into battle? Are you prepared to kill another just for wearing the emblem of a kingdom that is not yours? Are you capable of it?" the commander growled in his face, and Kíli did his best to keep from flinching. "You know nothing of war. You will get respect when you've earned it," the blond spat in his face and Kíli was torn between cowering away and lecturing the other man for his insolence.

"Gentlemen, let's…let's calm down. We needn't fight amongst ourselves. Pharaoh, perhaps it might be prudent to listen to the commander in this case," Balin intervened, easing in between the two as he looked towards the Vizier for help. The gangly man took a moment to gather his wits and nodded quickly.

"The commander and Balin are both right, my Pharaoh. You must stay here. We cannot risk losing you to this meaningless battle," the Vizier agreed for once. Kíli felt himself deflating, his anger already replaced with an overwhelming feeling of worthlessness and shame. Kíli looked towards the commander, unable to bring himself to apologize, and Fíli spared him one last glance before leaving the room in silence.

Just after the sun had set Kíli crept through the palace, sneaking past the guards he spotted lining the walls. The shadows were his friend as he inched along the corridors, and the piece of cloth wrapped around the end of his cane kept it from clacking against the stone flooring and alerting anyone to his presence. He fiddled with the straps holding his bow in place, and checked his quiver for arrows for the hundredth time. He'd lain in bed for long enough, eyes wide open as sleep failed to claim him. His heart was screaming at him to do something, anything other than simply wait. It wasn't in his blood. He'd come from a long line of Pharaohs that fought for the prosperity of their kingdom. Even his father, despite his many errors in judgement, had been a fearsome warrior.

Ori's scruffy head of hair was easy to spot as he snuck into the servants' quarters, and Kíli snorted lightly when he saw his friend's legs sprawled across his bedding carelessly. When he leaned forwards and gently grasped the other man's arm Ori sat up with a gasp, and Kíli hurried to cover his mouth to stifle the sound. Wide eyes met with his, and the brunet waited patiently for his friend to calm down before pulling away.

"I need your help," he whispered. "Come on let's go," Kíli urged, and Ori slid from beneath his coverings groggily and followed, though he looked more than a little confused. Neither spoke again until they were well on their way to the stable, and finally Ori skipped closer and touched his shoulder.

"What's going on?" the servant worriedly asked.

"The army marched north towards our borders tonight, I won't let them go without me," Kíli explained quickly, moving beneath the cover of the stable's structure. Nearly all of the stalls were empty, and chariots had been left in a scattered mess along one of the walls. He eyed them for a moment, and decided against it. He knew he couldn't ride one alone. Fíli was right about that much. And he certainly wasn't going to drag Ori into battle with him. Kíli moved to the back stalls where a few horses still lingered restlessly and he hurried to start setting up the reigns. There were ceremonial headdresses and jewels meant to adorn the animal and he did his best to get things organized in his limited time. He needed Ori's help for much of it, and his friend scurried around the horse and brought him everything he needed while he fastened chains and straps together.

"You can't tell Balin, or the Vizier, or anyone," Kíli voiced, patting the side of the horse once it was ready. His friend nodded slowly, unable to hide his concern. "Come on, help me up," Kíli beckoned. Ori took a deep breath and stepped forward, holding out his hands to lift him. It was a struggle to get enough leverage with just one leg, but eventually he managed, and his body slid into place as he took up the reigns.

"Kíli I…I don't think this is a good idea," Ori muttered from the horse's side, his fingers toying with the decorative tassels hanging around Kíli's feet. The brunet eyed his servant fondly, offering him a sad smile as he shifted and prepared to leave.

"What kind of Pharaoh would I be if I let my men do all my fighting for me?" Kíli asked, and after a short pause he kicked his legs, guiding the horse into the night.

The sound of hundreds of hooves stomping alerted Kíli to the location of the army long before he arrived. He could hear the screams too, of men in anguish, caught in the midst of battle. The Pharaoh rode swiftly towards the sound, but the first sighting of dead bodies forced Kíli to slow down, pulling hard on the reigns until his horse halted atop the dry ground. Men lay face down all over the sand, blood seeping from wounds caused by any number of weapons. Kíli's throat tightened as he looked over the dead frantically, searching for a head of blond hair, but it was dark, and impossible to tell for certain.

His breathing quickened as he eyed the masses of men who had already died for this meaningless war, and Kíli hurried to lead his horse towards the thick of the battle. He readied his bow but could hardly see which men were friends and which were foes. Kíli's arms shook as he saw someone fall to the ground nearby, and he shot an arrow, hoping it landed true. He was surrounded by absolute chaos, men fighting on the ground and falling to their deaths everywhere in sight. Kíli struggled against the pull of the reigns, leading his horse further through the mass of people.

For a moment the clouds shifted, revealing the moon, and light cast across the battlefield revealing the bloody massacre in all its glory. Kíli nearly choked as he took in the ruthless fighting in his midst. Blood spurted from wounds as limbs were severed and men shouted as they threw one another to the ground. A spear flew just beyond his horse, sending a person flying into the dirt with it, where he gasped and guzzled, suffocating on his own blood. The army's chariots circled the fight and Kíli gasped when he saw one catch in a ditch, the man inside tumbling to the ground with a pained scream.

The Pharaoh forced himself to raise his bow again, firing off arrows where he could. He hit his marks despite his shaky grip, doing his best to help any soldiers in need. He caught the attention of several members of his army, and they pointed at him in surprise and whispered his name. The men cheered loudly when they saw him charging through their ranks, but he felt no pride. Each arrow that hit its mark felt like an added weight upon his heart. The brunet rode through the battlefield, desperate to find some solution to end the fighting, but it was impossible. It was just a mess of warriors fighting to kill. No man would listen to words when they were controlled by so much rage.

His eyes shifted, catching suddenly on familiar golden locks, and Kíli urged his horse in that direction, only to find Fíli at the mercy of an opposing soldier. The commander was struggling to hold him off, a blade just a few inches from his neck. His arm muscles flexed fiercely as he grimaced and struggled to hold off the attack, and Kíli shot without thinking, sending an arrow right through the opposing soldier's head. He collapsed atop the blond almost immediately, and Fíli looked thrown off by the sudden lack of force. Kíli had only a moment to breathe a sigh of relief, before Fíli's gaze met with his and widened.

"What are you doing here? Do you want to get killed?!" The commander shouted, and he stood quickly and lifted his weapons, moving to approach him. Before he could get more than a foot more men were upon him, and he fought them off furiously, his body showing obvious signs of fatigue. Kíli did his best to help hold of the attackers, but he could only shoot so fast, and it wasn't long before his many arrows dwindled to none. He panicked when he reached back to find little more than empty space, and grasped the reigns tightly to urge his horse to move. He was like a sitting duck, easy to spot sitting high above the ground troops, with little more than a dagger to use as a weapon. It would be no good to him now.

He caught sight of Fíli's emotion filled gaze once more, and then a spear drove into the front of his horse, sending it tumbling to the ground. Kíli cried out as he landed hard atop the hoof hardened dirt, his horse falling over his legs and pinning him in place. It whinnied and jerked atop him, crushing him beneath its weight. He'd never felt such pain or such fear as he did in that moment. His heart pounded against his chest, and he felt his eyes watering as he struggled against the hold atop his body. He couldn't move. All he could see were feet rushing by his head as soldiers swung their weapons. Kíli clenched his fingers in the horse's mane as he grimaced and let out a desperate sound.

"Kíli!" someone shouted over the din of clashing blades, and the brunet jolted at the sound of his name, twisting his neck best he could. He saw little more than the legs of soldiers rushing by. There was no sign of Fíli, and he panicked as a set of feet bolted towards him, coming to a halt at his side. Kíli half expected to look up into the eyes of the man that would kill him, but instead he saw a familiar face, one that oddly lacked its usual smile. Bofur hurried to lift the horse's struggling body, and Kíli pushed himself along the ground until he was free. He felt the drag against his skin as the grit dragged across his skin. He scrambled to his knees, his head spinning as he gritted his teeth and forced his bruised bones to move.

When Kíli looked up he was finally faced with the brutal nature of war. Men fell all round him, shot and stabbed, some dead immediately while others were left to suffer a slow and painful demise. Blood covered the ground, splattered over faces and arms and abandoned weapons. He was shaken and frightened, and for a moment could do little more than try to control his erratic breathing. Bofur knelt in front of him, looking into his eyes for some sign of recognition, but they were unfocused and Kíli was unresponsive. He never should have come.

The splatter of blood across his face brought him back in a heartbeat. He shuddered as his mind caught up with what had happened, and Kíli's gaze followed the movement of Bofur's body as it fell to the ground with a thump. The Pharaoh's jaw dropped as he honed in on the arrow that had struck the soldier. It protruded from his neck, and the pooling blood cut off the other man's air supply entirely. He was making strange noises as his fingers dragged across his throat, shakily touching the arrow as his eyes stared blankly at the sky.

Kíli let out a choked gasp and fell forwards, pressing his hands against the entry wound, but he could do nothing to help clear Bofur's airway. He watched the light fade from behind the other man's eyes, blood coating his hands as it pooled up around the arrow's shaft. Bofur coughed up even more, staining his lips red, and the soldier's body twitched atop the ground one last time before going unnaturally still.

"Bofur?" Kíli whispered. He bent closer so his lips were right next to the other man's ear. "B-Bofur, please," he stuttered this time, his shoulders shaking as he started to tremble. He hardly even noticed when the commander reached his side, tugging on his arm roughly.

"Kíli, we have to go," Fíli voiced, but the Pharaoh stayed put, his fingers tightening in the folds of Bofur's garment.

"Kíli!" the blond shouted at him, fully drawing his attention. The brunet whipped his head to the side, showing off his widened eyes. "He's dead! We need to fall back. This battle won't be won tonight," Fíli insisted. He grabbed Kíli beneath his armpits and lifted him, supporting him against his side as they walked away towards a waiting horse. Fíli paused only to capture the attention of Dwalin, who looked as though he'd been to the underworld and returned to tell the tale. "Tell the men to regroup at the Tombs of the Nobles, near the altars. I'm riding ahead, to take the Pharaoh back to the palace," Fíli commanded. Dwalin cast a surprised eye over Kíli's form, seemingly noticing him for the first time. After a brief pause he nodded, and then the bald man ran off to gather the remaining survivors.

Kíli felt like he was in a fog. He didn't remember getting on a horse or riding away from battle. His thoughts remained with the dead. The cold night air was painful on his face as the horse galloped through the desert, but he took no notice of it. The Pharaoh closed his eyes sombrely and he leaned back limply against the commander's form. He couldn't escape the sight of blood, the vision of his soldier's falling and screaming, begging even for mercy. Flakes of blood fell away from his fingers as he rubbed them together, and he grimaced, holding down the bile that wanted to come up.

"Are you okay?" Fíli asked, his voice a gentle lull in the brunet's ear. It was such a contrast to the last time they spoke that Kíli almost thought he was another person altogether. But as he turned his head slightly and caught sight of a few stray blond hairs, there was no doubt that it was the same man. Kíli couldn't bring himself to respond. He wasn't okay. But how could he say that when he'd survived and so many had died for his sake. His fingers clenched into fists as his eyes burned with unshed tears. He remained silent the rest of the ride home, and even when the commander's arm wrapped around his torso and thick fingers splayed across Kíli's belly, it did little to comfort his soul.

Notes:
Montu - Falcon headed god of war, originally a manifestation of the scorching effect of the sun, Ra
Naharin - Ancient Egyptian term for the kingdom of the Mitanni
The Tombs of the Nobles - Located to the North of Akhetaten, burial grounds for high ranking officials and royalty