Wednesday- Zombies!
The dreams do not haunt him every night, and for that, Kíli is thankful; but when they do come, they come with a vengeance.
He is fighting atop Ravenhill, filled with rage and despair at the thought of his brother's death. One by one the Orcs fall, only to rise again moments later. The lifeless shadow in their eyes brings with it the knowledge that he cannot win. How does one kill that which cannot be killed? Horror floods through him at the sound of Tauriel's voice as she calls for him; to know that she is in this place, surrounded by enemies that no one can fight. He reaches her just in time to see her body hit the ground; and then rise again, a moving corpse. He meets her shadowed eyes and can find nothing of her there.
He is in the Goblin City, running with his brothers, fighting whatever foul creatures cross his path. But his blade slides through ethereal bodies without resistance and he cannot harm them at all. Their claws, however, cut deep, and he cries out from the pain of it. He tries again to defend, but the steel in his hand is useless. He is left wounded to watch as his friends are torn to shreds, their death echoes bouncing from wall to wall in the cavern until it is too much, and he screams to cover the sound.
His leg is burning; the heat of it travels through his veins and he knows that with that pain will come the inevitable. He is losing himself already, the darkness is settling in at the edges. He would be better served to take his own life now while he still has the power. If there had been a blade at hand, he would have done just that. Better a short life as himself, than a never ending existence as a wraith. His brother would not understand, would only try to stop him. As his cries of pain grow stronger, his breathing shallower, he longs once more to see the Elf that had brought light to his life for so short a time. But she does not come and he slips away into shadow, a new puppet for a cruel master. From the outside, looking in, he sees the body that had once been his spill the blood of his brother, fight and kill everyone in the small house. He can do nothing but watch as the specter with his face slips out into the night.
It is only the presence of the Elf next to him that saves him each time. Her scent, her warmth, her soft hands and voice pleading with him to wake. Some nights his voice is raw, some nights his cheeks are wet with tears, but each time she holds him to her, whispers soothing words in her lilting tongue and brings him back to himself. She is the star that he uses to find his way home, she is his beacon to safety. The nightmares do not haunt him every night, and for that, Kíli is thankful; but when they do come, she is always there to drive the darkness away.
