Dwalin sat in a stiff wooden chair, next to the cot where the boy lay. He had helped Balin strip off Kili's clothing, and had supervised, hovering as the she-elf healer had gone to work on him, cleansing, bandaging, saying her chants in her native tongue. He didn't want to trust her, he didn't want her touching the boy, but he was silent, letting her do what she would, because there was nothing he could do. Dwalin was still wearing the same clothes he had been wearing during the battle, blood stained and dirty. His axe was leaning against the chair, at his side, in a position where he could easily grab it and use it to defend Kili, if the need came. He wasn't willing to dismiss that possibiity - not today - not after everything he'd lost. He wasn't going to leave Kili's side. He sat there, staring straight ahead, not allowing himself to feel the grief of his losses yet. Not yet. He needed to be strong for Kili. Balin had left him there earlier, finally accepting that Dwalin wasn't going to move from that spot. He had brought him some food, some ale, but it sat cold and untouched on the table. Dwalin couldn't bring himself to eat, to drink, to do anytihng but stand vigil. He needed to do this. He needed to see this boy pull through.
There was a soft moan then, and his eyes darted to Kili. The boy had done this, every now and again, seeming to shift in his fever sleep, shaking his head, mumbling, but nothing Dwalin could make out. He watched him for a while, to see if the boy might be heading towards concisousness, but the episode passed and then Kili was silent and still once more. He was pale, his skin sheened with sweat, and the only indication that indeed he was alive was the small but steady rise and fall of his chest. Looking down at him Dwalin felt waves of sorrow. He looked so young, still. He could remember the lad running to and fro when Dis had brought the boys to visit, causing trouble wherever he went. Over his lifetime he'd probably yelled at Kili more than anybody he'd ever known, the foolish child going around, stealing his knives, playing practical jokes with his food pantry, stealing the neighbor's chickens. What he wouldn't give to be able to scold the boy now, tousle his hair and knock foreheads over an ale. Oh and Fili, that boy, now he would only get into trouble when he followed behind Kili in some hairbrained scheme, or got tangled in it trying to get Kili out of whatever trouble he'd gotten himself into - Fili - well, he was a good lad. They were both good, strong dwarven men. They were too young for this. Dwalin shook his head, squeezed his hand into a fist and closed his eyes hard, willing himself not to give in to these emotions. He had seen that boy die. Mercilessly. Murdered, he was. Not given a proper chance to fight. Damn that foul orc!
Thoughts of the orc led unwillingly to thoughts of Thorin. By the time he had made his way to him, it had been too late. He had found Bilbo there, sobbing. Thorin's eyes were open, the last thing he must have seen were the eagles in the sky and the last thing he heard must have been Mr. Baggins' voice. He was glad for that. But, oh, that he could have said goodbye to his king. To his...friend. Thorin had won the mountain, he had defended the mountain, and he had paid for it with his blood and the blood of his family. Dwalin wasn't going to let Dain forget that.
Suddenly there was movement outside the tent, and he slowly moved his hands towards his axe, preparing for the worst. The flap opened, and he saw it was the male elf and the she-elf, the red-haired lass who had been with Kili on the mountain. They looked at him, and he looked at them, and they all looked towards the axe he had in his hand. He almost didn't remember gripping it and jumping up into a defensive stance - he was running on instinct and adrenaline and hope alone. He cleared his throat and lowered the axe slowly. "Can't be too careful." he said, gruffly, jerking his head towards the cot, "Come in, I ain't gonna cut ya."
The two elves looked wary, but entered nonetheless. The blonde one spoke first. "I am Leglas Greenleaf. We have met, but I am afraid not properly."
Dwalin huffed. "Yes, taking us prisoner isn't exactly proper, by Dwarven reckoning, anyway."
"Nor by elven, I assure you." the elf stepped forward and put his hand over his heart, then gestured out toward Dwalin. He recognized this as their greeting of respect and nodded in answer.
"Dwalin, son of Fundin." he said. Then he looked to the she-elf, whose eyes were resting on Kili, worry clear within them. Legolas lightly touched the she-elf's arm, and she started, then looked to Dwalin.
"I am sorry, master Dwalin. I hadn't seen Kili since the mountain and - and he is so pale." she glanced at Kili again, then back to Dwalin, stepping closer towards him, making the same gesture of greeting Legolas had made. "My name is Tauriel."
He surveyed her, confused about her concern over the boy. He knew she had saved him, up on the mountain, and he heard tell from his brother and some of the company that Kili and the she-elf had some kind of...bond. Some kind of friendship. It was strange to him, this warmness between an elf and a dwarf, but he knew full well she was the only reason one of the line of Durin still lived. He was grateful to her for that - more grateful than he could let her know in words. To lose Thorin, to lose Fili, and then to have climbed Ravenhill to find young Kili at the edge of death - it was too much. He let out a sigh, then cleared his throat. "Aye," he nodded at her. "I have heard what you did for him on the mountain and I...I thank ya." he said brusquely, willing himself to hold in the pain, swallow the sob that wanted to escape from his throat.
"He was yet alive when I found him. I simply did what I could to keep him that way." she smiled sadly. "I would like to sit with him...if you don't mind."
He looked at her for a few moments, then nodded. "Of course." What did he mind? She could sit as long as she liked, but he wasn't going anywhere. Not until the lad woke up. Woke up, or...he didn't want to think about the alternative. He knew it was possible, but he couldn't let himself think about it, or he would not be able to hold himself together. He lowered himself back into the chair and watched the she-elf.
Tauriel went around the cot, to Kili's left side, so she was mirrored to where Dwalin sat. She stood over the boy, looking down at him, and she gently moved a few pieces of wild hair from his brow, then tenderly stroked his cheek. "He is fevered." she whispered.
"Aye." Dwalin responded. "He's been running warm now for about an hour. The healer said she hopes to see it break by nightfall."
Tauriel nodded. She sank into the chair, then reached out and touched Kili's hand, holding it delicately, as if she were afraid he might break at any moment. For all they knew, he might. Dwalin was disconcerted by the physical closeness of the two, finding it altogether too intimate, but said nothing. Now was not the time to protest about strange friendships. As long as she was here to help and not to hinder, he wouldn't stand in her way. Elves were strange creatures anyhow, maybe to them this kind of intimacy was standard, something that they didn't even think about. There was a world of difference between their two cultures, after all. Legolas was near to Tauriel's shoulder, standing on the far side of the tent, seeming about as uncomfortable with all the touching as Dwalin felt, by the look on his face. Did that mean it wasn't normal for her to be touching his hand like that? Dwalin wondered, and his eyes moved back and forth between them. He had the feeling he was missing something, here.
They remainted in the tent in silence for some time, the only sound Kili's occasional murmering and the soft but steady sound of him breathing. It seemed that their entire world had shrunk to encompass only this tent and Kili's body - their whole existance orbiting around the steady rise and fall of his chest, confirming that he yet lived and that he yet fought for his life. After some time, the she-elf healer returned to check on her patient. As she entered Dwalin tensed again, his right hand on the axe until he was sure it was friend and not foe. Legolas and Tauriel said something to the elf in their own language and she nodded to them silently. The dark haired elf healer walked over to the left side of Kili's bed, and Dwalin watched her as she checked his pulse and counted the beats of his heart. She nodded slightly to herself, a sign as he took it that she was satisfied with what she found. She rolled up the sleeves of her grey dress, and prepared a cloth in the basin of clean water beside the bed.
"How long do you think this fever will last, Nimrodel?" Tauriel asked.
The healer went to work preparing Athelas in a mortor, mixing it with some herbs she had brought with her, as well as strange powders. As she worked she answered, "I hope to see it break within the hour. I will re-dress the wound, and then check back after sunset."
Tauriel nodded, looking forlornly at Kili's face. "Inikh-de, Amralime." she whispered.
Dwalin was shocked to hear Khuzdul words leave the elf's lips. He felt his mouth hanging open and quickly shut it. He stared at Tauriel. Amralime? Was this elf in love with Kili? That certainly explained a few things...but he had never heard of such an attraction before. Nimrodel was almost finished with the dressing now, and moved to the water basin to wash her hands. Dwalin struggled to keep his racing thoughts to himself. Part of him wanted to laugh - of all the dwarves he had ever known, it would be strange, reckless, flirtatious Kili who would fall in love with an elf. If Thorin had been here he would have erupted in rage - a son of Durin with an elf! He could almost hear the lecture Thorin would give the boy, of bloodlines and history, and at the end of it all full-on threats of thrashings and jailing. And then, finally, vowing to tell the boy's mother, Dis, of his stupid, impossible infatuation!
But it wasn't impossible, was it? Tauriel had spoken words of love in the Dwarven tongue. She had risked her life time and again to save the boy. She sat with him now, at the edge of death, and willed him to live. Dwalin couldn't say it didn't all seem strange and a little bit wrong to him - but right now, well, right now he hoped whatever bond they shared would work to bring Kili back to this world, back to the living.
Nimrodel turned to face them, wiping her hands on the apron covering the front of her dress. "I have done what I can for now. My lord Legolas, I will return within the hour to check on the dwarf again." Legolas nodded.
Tauriel said softly, "Hannon le."
Nimrodel glanced at her swiftly, then put her hand to her heart and gestured outwards toward Tauriel. With that she strode out of the tent, and the three of them were alone once more, each returned to their own thoughts, each focused on Kili in their own way.
Some time passed, and Dwalin felt himself dozing in his chair. Every once in a while his bearded chin would touch his chest and he would start, shake his head and fight the urge to sleep again. The two elves were stoic as stone, Tauriel's hand in Kili's, staring down lovingly at his face. Legolas stood at the back of the tent, like a soldier on watch, eyes straight ahead. Dwalin expected there were many thoughts racing within the elf prince, not least of which having to do with the strange relationship of his friend and young Kili. In this, they had something in common, at least. Dwalin silently cursed the stamina of elves, not seeming to ever give in to weariness, as he stifled a yawn.
Kili stirred again, mumbling, and Dwalin looked up, saw the boy shaking his head as if he was saying "no" to something, or someone. Tauriel leaned forward in her chair, whispering something to the boy, and Dwalin leaned forward in his chair, hoping the boy would break through his delirium. Moments later, though, Kili was still and silent again, and Dwalin slowly leaned back, sighing.
He felt himself nodding off again when suddenly Kili was yelling. Dwalin started and practically jumped out of his chair, until he was right next to the boy, his large hands gripping the edge of the thin mattress.
"Fi!" Kili was yelling, his eyes still closed. "Fili!"
Dwalin choked back tears, and put his right hand on the boy's chest. "Kili, we're here lad, wake up, open your eyes, boy!"
Tauriel was standing now, she had jumped back from the bed a few paces and stood, clasping her hands together in front of her as if in prayer, her eyes wide. Legolas was at her side, touching her arm lightly to steady her. "Kili?" she whispered.
Dwalin lightly shook the boy, trying to drag him out of whatever nightmare he was having, or re-living, he thought darkly. "Kili!" he cried, "Wake up! You're safe, lad, we're here! Wake up!"
"Fili! Fi-" the boy's eyes shot open and he looked around wildly, his chest heaving as if he had been running. His eyes finally focused on Dwalin leaning over him, and they softened a bit in recognition. "Dwalin?" he said weakly.
Tears streamed down Dwalin's face. He nodded slowly, smiling so big his face hurt. "Kili, my boy. You have no idea how good it is to see you awake." Kili struggled to sit up, and Dwalin helped him sit up in the bed, then touched his shoulders, bringing the boy's forehead in to touch his own.
"Dwalin...I...I was somewhere...else. Somewhere, beyond." he whispered.
"Aye. But you came back, my boy. You came back." Dwalin lifted his head, leaning back a bit, to get a good look at Kili. "I thought I'd lose you, too. I couldn't bear it."
Confusion filled Kili's face, and Dwalin's heart sank. Did he not remember? Did he not know Fili and Thorin hadn't made it through the battle? He shouldn't have said anything - stupid, stupid! Kili's face changed from confusion to grief, his bottom lip trembling, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. Dwalin felt himself crumbling again. "Lad..." he began.
"Thorin. And...and Fili." Kili said, his voice flat and distant. Dwalin could only nod his head. Kili nodded in response, the tears leaking down his face. He leaned back against the wall behind the cot, his eyes moving from Dwalin to the ceiling above. He sniffled, then turned his head, looking to his left. His eyes went wide when he saw her staring back at him, a sad smile on her face. "Tauriel." the way he said her name - his voice softened, in awe and sadness.
She stepped closer to the bed. "Yes," she nodded. "I am here, meleth nin."
He reached out his hand towards her, and she came closer again, entwining her hand with his, her other hand reaching out and tentatively stroking his cheek. Dwalin watched as they gazed at one another, their eyes seeing only each other, and he felt then that his watch was done. He was heavy and tired with grief. Kili was safe now. He looked up past the two lovers and his eyes locked with Legolas's, who had stepped back out of the way a few moments ago. He gave a terse nod, and closed the distance between them, whispering as he passed Dwalin, "Time to go, Master Dwarf." Then he was gone, the flap of the tent swaying behind him. Dwalin turned silently and grabbed his axe, then headed out of the tent. As he stepped into the night he looked up at the stars, thanking Mahal that there would be one less grave in Erebor.