HIYA! Thanks for the review!

I just want to apologise for the wait. It has been very hard to write recently – my mum is convinced that it is a complete waste of my time and that I should be looking at universities. Can you tell I am running out of chapter names? Either way, I hope this chapter is okay. Next chapter things start to kick off with goblin caves and focus shifts almost entirely to the company FOR AGES so that should be good.

Am I wasting my time? Interesting question. I enjoy writing, anyway :P

Read. Enjoy. Review.

Chapter Seven # Wherever You Will Go #

"So lately, been wondering
Who will be there to take my place
When I'm gone, you'll need love
To light the shadows on your face
If a great wave shall fall
It would fall upon us all
And between the sand and stone
Could you make it on your own?

If I could, then I would
I'll go wherever you will go
Way up high or down low
I'll go wherever you will go." Charlene Soria, Wherever You Will Go

Dori was on watch duty with Nori. Though neither brother had protested at Thorin's uncommon request for the two of them to watch together, they were both unhappy with the predicament.

Their leader had spoken of a need for two pairs of eyes on the camp, though he had not said why those two pairs of eyes were required.

Dori watched his brother behind the flickering firelight, his heart heavy. Nori was still and calm, his posture relaxed and his eyes glazed over with the mist of pleasant memories.

Dori guessed that he was thinking of Kára. Despite what Nori thought, Dori liked Kára. He had always liked her and he recognised that she was good for Nori - he had stopped stealing and brawling, he was settling down...

Once Dori had hoped that Nori and Kára would give him nephews or nieces to dote on and care for, and that they would all go and visit Ori in Moria. In Dori's fantasy life, Ori had a fine wife and children of his own, and they lived happily in the same great Kingdom - whether Moria or Erebor it did not matter.

His heart was shattered with the words of a messenger.

"…they found their bodies, and the Book of Mazarbul. Gimli sends word that they had time enough to bury Balin with dignity before the orcs attacked." The messenger finished with the sad confirmation of the fall of Balin's company.

Dori could not breathe. He could not move, he could not think. He had failed, Ori had died. Ori was dead…his little brother was dead.

"He…he also said that if it was any comfort Ori was found with a sword in one hand and the book in the other." The messenger said hesitantly.

Dori felt anger boil inside him as Nori smirked. "You think that's funny, Nori?"

Nori scowled. "How dare you!"

"This is your fault! You convinced him to go!" Dori growled, though for a second he wondered if he had misunderstood the curl up of Nori's lips.

Nori's eyes flared with anger and his hands balled into fists. "It was his choice, Dori. You couldn't baby him forever! He was free to make his own choices in life!"

"And look where it's got him!" Dori yelled back, fighting tears by now. His anger was not meant for Nori, and inside he knew it, but the devil's emotion took a hold of his tongue.

"Stop." Kára tugged at Nori's jacket like a frightened child. "Stop, please, Nori."

"Don't come near me. Stay away from me, Dori, I mean it!"

"Gladly!" Dori spat, though his heart broke more and more with every word from his brother's mouth. Inside his head, a voice chided him constantly. Now you are losing both of your brothers!

The voice was a familiar one. His mother.

I raised you, I clothed you, I fed you, I looked after you all! And why can't you just listen to Nori? Listening never hurt anyone!

He did not realise that he muttered an insult to the meddlesome ghost of his mother until Nori turned around.

"What did you just say? I just lost my brother, Dori! I loved him too, even if I thought that he deserved a chance to do his own thing! How dare you stand there, insult my wife, insult me? You are not my brother!"

Dori's mouth dropped open. He had not meant to offend Kára, but he had lost the ability to speak.

"Nori, please-" Kára began, but her protests stammered to a stop.

Dori fell to his knees, overcome by emotion. Grief blinded him, pain paralysed him, and guilt burnt him.

Ever since, he had wanted to talk to Nori, wanted to explain, but he did not know how to make the words come. Every day that passed without his apology to Nori, guilt grew in Dori's heart, and the more guilty he felt, the harder speaking to his brother became.

"Dori."

He looked up in surprise as Nori spoke to him.

Once again, he was overwhelmed with the urge to talk to his brother, but the shock of Nori addressing him had sealed his lips, dumbness striking once more in the most irritating place. "Hmm?"

"Watch is over." Dori nodded with a little grunt. Grunts were good; Nori couldn't hear the disappointment in a grunt.

He started to wake the others, starting with Ori, which he regretted when his brother flew from a silent nightmare and a fist flew into Dori's nose.

As Ori apologised profusely, Dori swatted his little brother on the arm with a smile. Amiable silence hung in the air as they packed up camp. They had left the horses once they reached the mountains as planned; the great beasts galloping gracefully and knowingly back to their home.

"A horse is approaching!" Legolas announced, peering over the large boulder that had sheltered them from unfriendly eyes during the night. His eyes widened and a whisper escaped his mouth. "Frodo!"

"What?" Bilbo cried, scrambling up the rock himself. A strangled cry emitted from his throat as he saw his cousin's body dangling from the side of the horse, his arms and legs both tangled in the beast's reigns. "Frodo!"

The poor animal was foaming at the mouth, terror shining in its wild eyes. Its charged seemed undirected, and its stumbling gait told Legolas that the poor creature was pained, afraid, and tiring.

Without a second thought the elf slipped over the edge of the rock, moving slowly but purposefully towards the horse. Fearing that the elf would make matters worse, Thorin started to call out a warning, but Gandalf dragged his arm away, hissing a warning.

"Wait!"

A low humming came from Legolas' throat, rising to musical calls in elvish. As he called, the horse stumbled but slowed, turning its course toward the elf.

Certain that the elf was about to be trampled on, Kíli nocked an arrow, but Gandalf seized his hand. "Kíli, wait!"

The horse stopped moments before crushing Legolas, and the elf avoided eye contact with the horse as he ran his hands over its face.

None of the others could hear the elvish murmurs pouring from Legolas' mouth, but they could all see him cut the rope away from the animal and catch Frodo's limp body in his arms. Legolas began to run back to the group, the horse trotting along behind him with a severe limp.

"Frodo!"

Balin winced when he heard Bilbo's desperate call. He did not call like a hobbit afraid of losing his cousin. He did not call like an uncle afraid of losing his nephew. He cried like a father afraid of losing his son. He had heard that cry too many times before. He had heard too many fathers lose their sons. Too many mothers, too. He felt his eyes slide to Kíli and Fíli. Including Dís.

He exhaled in relief as Frodo moaned softly and stretched a little in response to Legolas laying him on the ground.

"Gimli, will you feed the horse?" Legolas asked as he placed experienced hands on the back of Frodo's neck, feeling for broken limbs. "Frodo, can you hear me?"

The hobbit's face was caked with blood, but his eyelids fluttered a little. Óin grabbed his own medicine bag and worked in silent collaboration with Legolas. While Legolas was no healer, he was an elf and therefore possessed both the knowledge and the ability to heal anyway, and Óin had been healing for many, many years.

Óin grunted at his brother wordlessly but Glóin was already there with a bowl of water and a clean cloth. Óin started working on the blood instantly to try and see how seriously Frodo was wounded. His cleaning revealed a wide but relatively shallow gash on his forehead. Splinters were embedded throughout the wound, causing Óin to muse aloud.

"Hit his head on a branch. Or someone did it for him."

"We should get the splinters out," Legolas spoke loud enough for the healer to hear him. "They will increase risk of infection."

Frodo groaned again, his muscles flexing and his fingers opening and closing weakly. Bilbo swallowed, watching as Legolas passed Óin what looked like a metal toothpick. Frodo's eyes began to open when Óin began removing the splinters and his next moan was saturated with pain.

"Frodo, it's alright…" Bilbo soothed hopelessly, coming as close to his cousin as he could. "Can you hear me?"

Slowly, Frodo's eyes focussed. "B-Bilbo?"

The elder hobbit let out a tiny grin. "I'm here."

"We are cleaning out your wound, Frodo." Legolas smiled as the hobbit's confused gaze landed on him.

"Wound?"

"Hit yer head pretty hard there, by the looks." Bofur remarked, skilfully and subtly lightening the mood with his easy tone.

Frodo scrunched up his eyes for a moment.

"What happened?" Bilbo asked anxiously. "Where are Merry and Pippin?"

"They-OW!"

Óin did not respond as he removed the last splinter, pressing the cloth against Frodo's forehead. "Bandage, please."

This time it was Gimli on hand to pass his uncle the much needed supplies, and Frodo was able to sit up, though dizziness and nauseous attacked, to allow Óin to bandage his head.

"What happened?" Thorin repeated firmly, and Frodo swallowed, trying to remember.

"Everything went well, until the fireworks spooked the horses. I was knocked off my horse…Merry and Pippin couldn't get back."

"They got away?" Kíli confirmed hopefully, and Frodo nodded, slowly explaining about meeting Faramir and creating the plan. His memories were muddled, but he managed to recall the orcs' third attack and the branch hitting his head.

"So you were only unconscious for an hour or so, if your timeline is not blurred." Legolas mused.

"Better than it could have been." Óin muttered darkly, and several dwarves nodded.

"Well, Frodo Baggins. I am glad to see you all in one piece." Gandalf smiled fondly at the young hobbit. "It seems that fate wishes for you to accompany us."

Frodo looked up, and Thorin considered. "If you wish to travel with us I will not turn you away."

"Well he's certainly not going anywhere!" Bilbo huffed, and Frodo laughed, his mouth falling open with amusement despite the throbbing pain in his skull.

"Bilbo!"

"What?" Bilbo looked firmly at Frodo. "I am not about to let you go off into the wilderness alone, wounded, after being attacked by orcs twice. No."

"I don't think that Master Baggins is giving Master Baggins any choice." Kíli piped up with a grin. He liked Frodo, and having another hobbit, even an injured one, in the company could only be a good thing.

"We need to keep moving, but I think my sister-son is right. There is not much of a choice. We will go as slow as we can." Thorin warned, and Frodo nodded, pushing himself onto his feet. The dwarven leader swore to keep an eye on the young halfling, especially when he began to sway.

Bilbo was there in an instant, his arm looping around Frodo's shoulders, taking most of his weight for him. He glanced worriedly at his heir when Frodo leaned into him a little, but the sunny smile his cousin sent him warmed his heart intensely.

Óin also kept a careful eye on the hobbits as they began trekking through the mountains. Frodo stumbled more than the others, but he kept up regardless. Both he and Bilbo wrapped their feet in spare clothing when the snow became unbearable, but neither complained and they forged on. As the days progressed, the weather lightened a little, but the company grew more and more tense. The site of the storm battle and goblin caves was little more than a day away, and though the weather was comfortably clear, the whole company were still on the edge.

Bofur tried to distract himself by musing over where the newest members of the company were fitting in.

While Frodo largely remained in close proximity to Bilbo, Bofur was not very surprised to see him spending a lot of time with Ori, Kíli and Fíli. The youngest four members of the company seemed to intrigue each other – Frodo had been raised on tales of Fíli and Kíli's mischief and the dwarves were amazed at how a young hobbit had saved the entire world, so they were never short of anything to talk about. They had got on well in Rivendell, and Bofur was happy to see the four laughing and joking.

Gimli had surprised Bofur initially; though with retrospect his tendency to spend more time with his father and the older dwarves than the younger ones made sense. He remembered Gimli as a child, constantly trailing after his cousins. They had in turn taught the boy all they knew. Gimli was crushed when they died. Bofur had originally thought that Gimli would have spent all his time with Fíli and Kíli, catching them up on everything, but he did not. He spent time with them, certainly, and a good deal of it, but he spent more with the older dwarves. It had not taken Bofur long to suppose that it was because Gimli was now more mature than his older cousins, by a long way, both mentally and physically. They were not exactly children themselves, but Bofur thought that Gimli felt alienated by the youth of the older dwarves and Bofur did not blame him.

"RAWR!"

"Eeek!"

"Die, dragon, die!"

"Ow, Gimli, that's my-"

"Fíli!" Kíli and Gimli cried out with horror.

"Sorry, I mean RAWR!"

Bofur stepped out of his toyshop into a battlefield. The twenty year old, thirty five year old and forty year old were rolling around on the floor like animals. Fíli's was ticking Kíli mercilessly, and Gimli was smacking Fíli with a little wooden sword.

"What on earth is going on out here?" Bofur asked, amused.

"I'm a dragon." Fíli explained as if the toymaker was a simpleton. "And Kíli is dying, to protect Gimli from my ticklerous rage."

"Ticklerous?" Bofur raised an eyebrow, amused at the matter-of-fact tone to the dishevelled dwarfling's voice.

"Like murderous-" Kíli wheezed between eeks and giggles. "But – only – with – tickling!"

"I see."

"An' I'm going to save Kíli." Gimli said with determination, returning to the attack on Fíli's arm. The blonde was surprisingly easy with having his little cousin hitting his arm repeatedly with his wooden sword.

"Are you now?"

"Save – yourself!" Kíli laughed as Fíli tickled him under the arms.

Gimli dropped the sword and turned away, before running at Fíli and jumping on his back, taking the older child by surprise and wrestling him away from his brother.

"Ha ha!" Kíli screamed with delight, scrambling to his feet.

"Idiots." A voice muttered, and all three boys stiffened as Calder, a local smith's son walked past, giving them a scathing look. "Where's your beard, Gimli?"

"Leave him alone!" Kíli's voice hardened instantly and his hands balled into fists, though Fíli pulled him back calmly. Kíli had a little stubble, of which he was very proud (which was funny, thought Bofur, because one hundred and four years later his stubble showed no signs of becoming anything more) and he was the only one allowed to tease Gimli about his lack of a beard. "He's just a kid, Calder."

"Why don't you just leave?" Fíli's voice was the perfect balance of calm and cold, and the boy narrowed his eyes.

"Make me."

The three lurched forwards instantly but Bofur shouted. "Hey, hey, hey! Stop right there, I won't have people fighting outside of my shop! Get out of here!"

Calder scowled and moved on. He was not a bad lad, not really, but he was in a foul mood and dwarves were not renowned for their tolerance.

"You three need to keep out of trouble." Bofur struggled to keep the fond tone out of his voice. "Off with you all."

The three children apologised to Bofur sheepishly, pushing each other playfully as they ran away.

It was hard for him to realise that they would never again have that relationship. Gimli no longer needed protecting. Fíli was no longer the most mature of the three. Kíli's short temper had lengthened, a little. They were almost completely separate from the boys he had known when they were children.

Legolas stayed mostly where Gimli was, though if he was not by the young dwarf's side he was usually speaking to Bilbo, Frodo or occasionally Kíli. The youngest heir of Durin was warming steadily to the elven prince, and the two could talk to each other for what seemed like hours about various archery tactics.

A soft, grey covering of clouds spurred the dwarves on faster, and many a curse was uttered as light rain began to fall.

"Ah…we may have a problem." Bilbo, who had been leading the group due to his sharp memory of the last journey and his maps, stopped still.

"What?" Thorin called from the back with trepidation. He had subtly manoeuvred himself to be directly behind Fíli and Kíli when they had moved onto the infamous pathway. His sister-sons had not even tried to be subtle – Kíli stuck so close to Fíli that it was a wonder they did not knock each other off.

"We've reached the place where the rock split, last time." Bilbo worried. "The path is completely gone."

"What?"

"Our path. It's down there, at the bottom of the chasm. On the legs of the stone giant. All that is in front of me is a solid rock wall."

Thorin swore loudly. "Is there no way on?"

"There is." Came the nervous reply. "But we would have to climb…"

"Gandalf?" Frodo asked hopefully. He was sure that the wizard was using magic already just to stay on the thin path. "Can you do something?"

Gandalf sighed heavily, looking around. "Well…"

The whole company waited with excitement, and Gandalf sighed once more. Magic was a tricky business, and it was not something that he could use excessively.

He muttered under his breath and the rock in front of them cracked, creating a makeshift bridge.

The cheer that rose up among the company reminded him of the cheers of the children he created fireworks for, and he let out a small chuckle himself as they went across the bridge.

Their newfound happiness was quenched when they reached the other side. A cave lay just ahead.

A very familiar cave.

"Do we have to go through goblin town?" Kíli winced.

"Unfortunately, yes. It would be best to retrace your steps as closely as possible." Gandalf nodded gravely.

"I'm not sure we can survive that again, Gandalf." Balin noted.

"We shall have to hope to travel unnoticed."

"Unnoticed?" Frodo raised an eyebrow. "Travel underground, hoping to be unnoticed, in a place full of goblins? That sounds strangely familiar. And the situation I think of did not end well."

Gandalf smiled sympathetically at the wary young hobbit. "I remember, Frodo. But we do not have much choice. I will be with you."

"And we just stick with the plan?" Dwalin asked incredulously. "You think it will work?"

"It must." Thorin said firmly.

They slowly made their way into the cave and quickly settled down 'to sleep'.

Kíli smiled as Fíli looped the rope loosely around their belts and a nearby rock. "You think the plan will work?"

"Thorin trusts the plan. So do I." Fíli said calmly, leaning a little against Kíli.

Kíli was not so sure, but he closed his eyes regardless, unaware of the horrors that would haunt him from the moment he opened his eyes.

Okays, sorry for any mistakes.

BTW, any and all flashbacks are relavant straight away and later on so bear with :P

Next chapter = my forte. AKA mega angst. This is where the story takes a turn for the different and hopefully interesting. I know I have said this for a while, sorry :( I mean it now!

PLLLLEEEAASSSE review and convince my mother that this fic is worth writing! :) Thanks for reading!