Oh cliffhangers...I can't promise this next cliffhanger will be any better. Thank you for all the reviews! Your feedback is inspiring! You guys are AWESOME!

Jas: Seeing as how Fili is just as pigheaded as his uncle, it might take a little more time. Thank you so much for reviewing!

Areylia: Done! You will get a signed first copy! :) Thanks so much for constantly reviewing! I really appreciate it! And let me tell you, things just continue to get hotter from here.

Shout out to my beta, Nathália! Just a warning, though, that after Chapter 7 there might be a bit of a hiatus as she is catching up on beta'ing. I think I may have been working her too hard. Anyway, on with the show!

Chapter 6

It took some doing that morning, but eventually the halls of Erebor had been cleansed of the aftermath from the battle, and slowly the dwarves began to move back in.

Thorin watched from the balcony above the entrance as dwarves began to file through the front gates. Strange to think that so many years ago he was standing there, watching as Smaug destroyed Dale, coming to claim their gold.

Amongst the influx of dwarves he spotted his two nephews. Kíli had mastered the art of using his cane, which he used to his advantage to find some enjoyment during the day. However he was moving much slower so that he could walk side-by-side with his brother. Fíli's movements were a little slower, not by choice. Óin had warned him that should he rip open his wounds once again that he would chain the prince to his bed until he was fully healed.

He didn't have to look to know that Balin stood next to him. "I have dreamt of this day for a long time. Now that it is happening, I'm afraid to close my eyes in fear that I am in a dream."

"I can assure you that you are awake and that this is very much real," Balin reassured.

The corners of Thorin's mouth twitched back as he smirked. "Has Fíli opened up on what happened last night?"

"Not yet."

"Give him time, Thorin. Battle changes even the mightiest warriors."

"That it does, my friend."

After a few moments, the King left the balcony to intercept his nephews. He wanted to be the one to show them around their new home. The home that they should have grown up in.

He found them in the throne room, looking around the halls in awe. Kíli had his bow and quiver on his back, bag hanging on his good side, leaning heavily against his cane. Fíli's gear was on the ground by his feet, seeing as how Óin's instructions had also banned him from carrying his swords and bags on his persons until he was healed.

Thorin approached with a smile. "Fíli, Kíli, come with me. I want to show you some things."

Fíli went to grab his bags but Thorin's hand stopped him. "Leave them, I will have someone fetch them and place them in your new quarters. You too, Kíli. You will not need your bow in these halls."

And so they did as they were told, leaving their bags and weapons before following their uncle further into Erebor.

The dark stone seemed brighter now that the threat did not loom over them anymore. The walls were lined with lanterns and treasure, glistening from the flicker of the light. Kíli took everything in with wonder in his eyes and although there seemed to be a brightness in his eyes as he was shown around Erebor, Thorin could still see the haunted look in Fíli's eyes.

Thorin pushed open the door to a room and led the boys in. "This was your mother's room when we were growing up. I want you to have it, Kíli."

At first Kíli was ecstatic but when he locked eyes with his brother, he faltered. "What about Fíli?"

"Do not worry, Kíli, he will not be far away. Come, Fíli, I will show you where you will be staying now."

The room was not far from where Kili was now residing, as Thorin had said. When they walked through the room, Thorin had stepped aside to allow Fíli in first.

The room was simple and organized, left untouched by the mayhem that had happened all those years ago. The four post bed sat on the back wall in the middle between two paned windows with royal blue curtains. There was a chest on the left and a weapons rack on the right. On the headboard of the bed was runes carved into the stone. Fíli recognized the etchings.

"This was your room," he muttered under his breath.

"Yes, and now it is yours."

"Mine?" Thorin smiled and nodded. "What about you?"

"I'll be staying in the King's quarters." Thorin watched as Fíli walked further into the room, running his hands over the weapons rack and walls as if the memories of the past could be felt from the walls. Balins' words rang in his mind; Give him time, Thorin. Battle changes even the mightiest warriors.

"Are you ready to talk about what happened last night?"

"I was just tired, Uncle."

Thorin knew he was lying. Having raised them while they were growing up meant that he knew every little mannerism. When Fíli lied, he made solid eye contact and his eyebrows would raise ever so slightly. As much as he wanted to get Fíli to speak to him, to tell him what was going on so that he could help him, he did not push the matter. "If you say so. Just remember that you are not alone."

At firs,t Fíli looked to his boots, wondering if he should come clean to the hero of his childhood. As much as it feared him to tell him that he thought Dwalin was Azog, he knew that he had to come clean sooner or later.

He opened his mouth and turned his face to look to his uncle only to find that Thorin had disappeared as silent as a phantom. He heaved a sigh before falling onto his bed.

The day was nearing the time for supper. The sweet aroma of the kitchens were running through the halls and Fíli's nose was detecting it. However, he wasn't hungry. The thought of food turned his stomach. So when Kíli came in to fetch his brother, Fíli smiled gravely and said, "I think I will pass. I am feeling rather ill right now and the last thing I want to do is to retch in front of our Uncle's court."

Kíli did not want to leave him by himself, but the pleading in his brother's blue eyes told him all he needed to know so, reluctantly, he left. A few moments later, Fíli felt sleep tugging at every fiber of his being and as much as he fought it, he couldn't fight the exhaustion his body felt.

The shimmering surface of the water in the pedestal reflected a rippling image of the sleeping prince. A disheveled, ragged man stood grinning into the pedestal, his back hunched. The clothes he wore were nothing more than torn rags. He rubbed his hand together.

"Is it time yet, Master?" he hissed.

Coming to stand next to him was a woman, tall and beautiful with ravenous hair. Her dark eyes leered into the pedestal, a malicious grin on her blood red lips. Her long black dress fell to the floor and trailed behind her. "Almost, my pet. First we have to have loosen the thread before the whole cloak unravels."

A long, slender finger touched the surface of the water, distorting the image even more and turning the water darker. As it changed, the sleeping prince began to toss and turn in the image, his face scrunching up as his dreams turned into a nightmare.

The battle raged all around him. Blood flowed freely through the hills from the dead bodies. All the Orcs and goblins around him ignored his presence, fighting the dwarves, Men and Elves. Never before had his swords been so stained black. He whipped his head around, his braids flying and hitting his skin. "Kíli!" he called out.

A shadow fell over him. Slowly he turned to see Azog staring down at him, his mace in his hand. A haunting smile danced upon his lips as he looked at the dwarf. "You're too late," he hissed at him.

Before Fíli could ask he heard the familiar cry of his brother call out, "Fíli!"

He spun around, looking for his brother but could not spot him. When he turned to face Azog again that he spotted and him and when he did, his blood ran cold. Lying at the pale Orc's feet was Kíli, still and pale. Blood oozed from the wound in his abdomen, rolling down the hill to Fíli's feet. "Kee?"

Azog's laugh thundered in his ears. With anger and rage in his blue eyes, he glared at the pale Orc. Azog would pay for what he had done. With his swords in his hands he lunged, a warrior's cry erupting from his throat. Metal clashed on metal. Fíli fought with the ferocity of a lion, stemming from the anguish of the body of his dead brother. He swung his left and then his right but in doing so he left his side open. Azog's claw came down and cut into his flesh. A howl of pain burst from Fíli's lips. Before he could get back into the fight Azog dug his claw into Fíli's shoulder and hoisted him in the air. "Die!"

Fíli's good arm reached into his belt and withdrew his knife and plunged it into the Orc's neck. "You first."

Dinner hadn't been the same without Fíli.

Without his brother, he felt lost. He was stuck sitting up by Thorin and the majority of his court, which meant he was away from most of the dwarves that he knew. A few of them Kíli did know. Gloin and Balin had been there but the rest of the company was further down the table. If Fíli had been there he would have been able to talk to someone and crack jokes, but instead he was stuck listening to the seemingly dull plans to reestablish Erebor.

Kíli didn't belong there. Fíli was the heir, not him.

Kíli had excused himself after he had finished his plate, proceeding to the kitchens to make a plate for Fíli. Surely his brother would get hungry at some point and would want some food; then he could make jokes about the dinner and how dull it was.

After getting a fresh plate, he headed towards Fíli's room. The door was closed when he arrived so, out of politeness, he knocked. There was no answer. He could faintly hear the sounds of Fíli muttering something. Sleeping, no doubt. Kíli balanced the plate in one hand and opened the door.

When he poked his head in he saw that Fíli was, indeed, sleeping. He was tossing and turning in his bed, making soft noises.

"Fíli?" Kíli called softly, placing the plate of food down on one of the tables in the room.

When he got closer Kíli could see that his brother was sweating and his face was contorted. "Fee?"

Fíli began to toss around more and his noises turned to growls. "Fíli, wake up!"

When Kíli grabbed his brother's shoulder, he was not expecting what happened next.

Fíli's eyes shot open and pulled his hunting knife from his belt, aiming it directly at Kíli. Kíli narrowly missed the knife, the blade slicing his right arm with a shallow cut.

Very quickly he rolled away as Fíli sat up and took in his surroundings. He was panting heavily, the knife clutched firmly in his hand. When he spotted Kíli, he relaxed a little but confusion was glittering in his eyes. "Kíli?"

As Fíli focused on his brother, he saw Kíli clutching his arm, blood escaping between his fingers. Fíli looked at the cut, then to his knife and back at his brother.

The blood drained from his face. "Mahal, what have I done?"

Before Kíli could say anything, Fíli jumped from his bed and ran out of the room, the knife clattering on the stone ground as he dropped it.

TBC…

What is going on? Wait, I shouldn't be asking you this because I know where this story is headed you don't. Please R&R!