{Warning; F-bomb used a lot in this chapter.}
Kili slowly opened his eyes. Everything was in a blur of colors. He stared up at a wood ceiling and suddenly felt his arm go into a blaze of pain.
He grit his teeth, then let out a loud and long scream. Birds on tree branches flew away in alarm.
A dwarf with a strange hat burst into the room. "Oin!" The dwarf yelled down the hall and another dwarf quickly came. Kili yelled every curse he knew in Black Speech. He was very fluent in the language.
More dwarves came in, but the second dwarf, Oin, quickly ushered them out, saying they would overwhelm the boy.
Kili continued screaming. He didn't clean his arrows, except with the quick single wipe of a wet cloth to get the blood off. Infection could easily set in.
The screams disturbed the dwarves, who started to pity the boy. He had been through a lot, and would never accept them as friends.
He pushed Oin away every time he came close, tears running down his cheeks. He hated it. He hated appearing so weak.
Oin dabbed cleaning oil on the wound. Kili hissed and squirmed. "Bofur, hold him down," Oin said. Kili struggled against the toymaker, refusing to be overpowered so easily. Bofur had a bit of trouble, but a quick threat was enough to silence the lad. They held his arm down. Oin muttered to Bofur, who left and came back with a tall and scary-looking dwarf. They both made sure the lad's arm wouldn't move. Oin murmured something to the dwarf. "W-What are you-" Kili started, seeing Oin pull a scalpel from his bag. The healer quickly sliced the scalpel straight through and deeper than the scar. Kili let out a bloodcurdling scream, pain ripping through his body. Sweat and tears mixed and dripped down his face, and he was in too much pain to wipe them away.
Oin continued to cut and add medicines. "S-Stop!" Kili yelled. He couldn't stand the unbearable pain.
They only continued. After a few minutes of excruciating pain, Kili passed out.
He awoke hours later. His arm was wrapped in cloth, blood seeped through. He looked around. It was nighttime, and he felt very tired. Suddenly the door opened slowly.
He looked up and saw a Bofur, and the blonde dwarf behind him.
He growled. "You," he said dangerously, narrowing his eyes at the blonde. The dwarf seemed to cower back, but the other grabbed his un-injured arm and kept him in place. Kili never looked away.
"End this fight, now. You've done enough damage to each other. You're brothers!" Bofur exclaimed. Kili was silent. Fili seemed as if he wanted to say something.
"Sorry," he muttered.
Kili kept glaring daggers. "Fuck you."
Fili looked taken back, then had a look of annoyance and anger. "Really!? Are you THAT insensitive!?" he yelled. He lunged at Kili, but Bofur held him back. "Calm yourself, laddie!" Bofur said. "He doesn't trust us."
"He doesn't trust his own family!? He knows! He knows who me and Uncle are and that we're related! He's just fucking insensitive to anyone here who tries to help him!" Fili growled angrily. He stormed out, very pissed off.
"Lad-" Bofur started, turning to Kili, but was cut off.
"All of you just leave me the FUCK alone!" Kili said darkly, then pulling the blankets over himself. Bofur sighed and walked out, closing the door behind him.
An hour later, Oin came to change the bloody cloth to a new clean one. No words were spoken.
Another hour of silence later, a kindly-looking old man with grey robes and a gray hat with a staff came in, and sat in the rocking chair close to Kili's cot. "Who're you?" the boy asked.
"Gandalf the grey," said the man, starting to smoke his pipe. "I would simply like to know about you being raised by orcs. It's incredibly rare to see them take in and care for one for another race."
Kili stared at him, confused. "Why do you want to know?"
"I'm simply curious," said the man with a smile.
"Okay..." Kili murmured. "You could say its hard. Especially when you're different. No one really takes you seriously. It's kind of annoying, really, when you almost get cornered by a bear but no one believes you. They all thought I made that stuff up." Gandalf nodded, listening. Then, Kili's voice became darker, as if telling a scary story.
"No one really cared about me, either. I got hurt a lot. Once I had an arrow in my shoulder after helping to raid a village, and no one paid any attention to me. When I was 50, I had a knife in my stomach and I had to rip it out and clean and bandage it myself. I didn't have any clean bandages, so I took my blanket and ripped it to strips. Then I was 65 when I fell out of a tree and got a concussion." Gandalf nodded, pitying the boy for his hardships.
"And no one cared. Azog said the pain would make me a better fighter." Kili started to cry. "I don't want to be a fighter! I'm not good at it! A child could beat me! I don't want to fight. I'm not a killer. I only do things like that because I'm told to!"
Gandalf stood. "I understand. You have been through more than anyone your age." Kili nodded, wiping his tears. "Food will be brought up for you," said the man, and he left Kili to think.