A/N: Well, this was fun to write. I channeled my inner Faulkner for this chapter, so if you're confused, that's okay. That's how you're supposed to feel. You're doing just fine. If you want to decipher it, feel free to reread, or just ask me questions and I will gladly answer them.

Much love and hugs to Nalbal for her incredible help with this chapter—she actually wrote a couple lines of it, to tell you the truth, especially when it comes to Flán's dialogue, as he is her character in the first place. She also beta'd most of it on top of that. Much love as well to Pericula Ludus, who was also instrumental in the development of this chapter. Honestly, I don't know how people write without friends to discuss things with. Whoever said writing is a lonely profession was wrong.


Nála's eyes

Kíli's eyes

fear in their eyes

Fíli stirred. Darkness surrounded him, enveloped him. Not ready to let him out. He rose, he fell, he did not move.

Kíli's eyes

He was so sore… his arms, legs, all of him.

Kíli?

His throat burned.

not Kíli

no

The darkness ebbed. Dark, but inviting. He sank into it.

Azog

He started. Fire crackling. The smell of pipe-weed.

metal on metal

knife on bone

pipe-weed?

He opened his eyes. Dark curtains above him. He looked to his right; Thorin was there, smoking his pipe, his gaze focused on Fíli. Fíli closed his eyes again.

Nála's eyes

fear in her eyes

"It's all right, lad," came Thorin's voice from outside. "Take your time."

eighteen years

time

Azog

He forced his eyes open again. Blinked a few times, slowly. Lifted his head. Pain swarmed through his skull, and he let out a strained noise. He dropped his head back onto his pillow.

not Azog

can't be

eighteen years

He kept his eyes open. Could feel Thorin looking at him. He had never found waking up easy. The heaviness of sleep still had its fingers in him.

he's not there

it's not real

make it stop make it stop make it stop

"No," Fíli grunted, pushing himself up, pushing himself awake. His sore arms quivered at the sudden movement. Thorin leaned forward, but he did not interfere.

"You all right, lad?" he asked.

Fíli drew up his knees and ran his hands through his hair. He scanned the room for others, but as far as he could see, they were alone. His shoulders dropped, and he let go of his hair and scratched his knee. His throat was so raw.

"I'm thirsty," he said softly.

"Of course," said Thorin, springing into action. He already had a glass on the nightstand, and he handed it over. Fíli drank it all.

he must be seeing something

don't just look at him

He handed the glass back to his uncle and wiped his lips. Still raw, but better. He looked down at his sleeves and furrowed his brow. He did not remember putting this shirt on.

you just had a seizure

do you remember that

Heat crept into his cheeks. They must have dressed him while he was unconscious. He knew what that meant.

"How do you feel, Fíli?" Thorin asked.

Nála's eyes

Nála

can you find Nála

"Fíli?"

He blinked and looked at Thorin. Why did everyone always want him to talk? His uncle was searching his eyes, and he let him.

"You've been asleep for a long time," said Thorin finally. "About fourteen hours, I believe. It's eleven in the morning."

That was a long time. Yesterday had been exhausting, though. And horrible.

Kíli's eyes

fear in his eyes

he has been poisoned

"The honey," he said abruptly. "It was the honey. I took it out of the basket—"

"From Beren, yes, we know," Thorin interrupted. "He has already been arrested. His judgment waits on you and Kíli."

Fíli frowned. Beren? The Man from Gondor? He had been so kind…

"But do not worry about that now," Thorin continued. "That can wait. I want to make sure you are all right first." He looked Fíli over warily. "If you still feel poorly, I can bring Óin to you…"

Fíli lowered his gaze. Of course he still felt poorly—but not as poorly as yesterday. He wanted Nála. She wouldn't make him talk. She would just sit with him.

Fíli you're scaring me

please say something

please Fíli talk to me

Fíli please just talk to me

He heard Thorin say something, but whatever it was, he missed it. He stared at the quilt covering his legs.

stay here

search the lower levels

I've got this

"Fíli, did you hear me?"

He blinked rapidly and looked up at Thorin, startled. His uncle was frowning deeply.

"I asked if there was anything you wanted right now," said Thorin. "Anything at all."

I thought he was getting better

fear in her eyes

"Nála," Fíli replied. "I want Nála."


Nála had a book in her lap, but she was not looking at it.

She was looking at the wall, actually, and her mind was not on the book or the wall. She was thinking of Fíli, as she had been since Dís had told her to go home the night before. Of course, he was in good hands with his family, but how was he feeling? Had he awoken?

"So is the book really boring, or is the wall just really interesting?"

Nála's focus came back to the present, and she looked up; her brother Flán was standing beside her, grinning. She tried to smile back, but from the look on Flán's face, she had not quite succeeded. His grin disappeared.

"Thinking about Fíli?" he asked, sitting on the arm of the chair.

She nodded. "I know he needs to rest, but I just… I wonder how he is. I want to be there for him."

"He'll be all right, sissy," said Flán, wrapping an arm around her. "Fíli has always been strong. I don't doubt he will come through just fine."

"I've never seen him like that, Flán," she said, looking up at him. "He looked so frightened."

"Hm," Flán said. He looked away and said nothing more. Nála narrowed her eyes.

"You are hiding something from me," she said.

Flán looked back to her, his eyes wide. "No," he said. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I know you," she replied. "There is something you aren't telling me, and I want to know what it is."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Flán. He started to rise, but Nála grabbed his arm and glared at him fiercely.

"Flán, I am going to marry this boy, and you are clearly keeping something about him from me. Why?"

Flán looked down at his sister with sad eyes, any trace of levity gone.

"Because there are some things better left unsaid, sissy," he said.

Nála furrowed her brow and did not let go of his arm. "What does that mean?"

"It means stop asking me questions," Flán said irritably, pulling his arm out of her grip and hopping off the arm of the chair.

Just then, there was a knock on the front door. Flán walked past without answering it.

"Flán, get the door," Nála said.

"Get it yourself," he retorted, continuing on his original path to the kitchen. Nála sighed and rolled her eyes, setting down her book and getting up.

"You're just as mature as the day you were born, you know that?" she called to him as he left the room.

"That's because I've been the most mature since day one!" Flán called back.

Nála rolled her eyes again and opened the door. It was Thorin. Nála stared, momentarily at a loss for words. Thorin had never come to her home before; she was engaged to Fíli, and Flán was one of Fíli and Kíli's best friends, but that had never warranted the King taking time out of his own schedule to come see them. His eyes were grave. She frowned.

"Fíli is awake," Thorin said finally. "He is asking for you. Will you come?"

Nála blinked. "Of course," she said. "I'm sorry—of course, yes. How is he?"

"I will tell you on the way there," said Thorin. "Come."

Nála ran back to retrieve her shawl from the back of her chair, and then she and Thorin were on their way. Thorin walked quickly, and Nála nearly had to jog to keep up with his long stride.

"He isn't speaking much," Thorin said in a low voice. "As far as I can tell, he is feeling better, though I think he is a bit sore and weak."

"What has he said?" asked Nála.

Thorin sighed. "I'm more concerned about what he isn't saying," he said.

Nála looked sidelong at Thorin. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Thorin was silent for a moment. Then he said, "You will have to talk to him. See if he opens up to you."

A ball of frustration rose in Nála's chest. What was this big secret, and why were they keeping it from her, of all people? She wanted to stop and shake Thorin until he answered her questions, but that was probably not the best idea. Besides, Fíli wanted to see her. She could only hope that he would not be as secretive as her brother and Thorin.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Soon they had reached the royal wing, and Thorin knocked on Fíli's door and peered in; a moment later, he opened the door wide and gestured in. Nála entered slowly, not quite sure what to expect. Inside Fíli was sitting on the stool in front of his washbasin, staring into the mirror. He did not seem to have noticed the two of them arriving. Nála looked at Thorin.

See if you can get him to leave his room, he signed.

She nodded and turned back to Fíli. He was still staring into the mirror and did not see her approach; in fact, he did not seem to notice her at all until she stood behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. His far-off gaze returned to the present, and their eyes connected through the reflection in the mirror. She smiled.

"Hello, Fíli," she said gently.

He pressed his cheek into the back of her hand and closed his eyes. She pulled her hand off his shoulder and stepped around in front of him, and he looked up at her soulfully.

"How are you feeling, my love?" she asked.

Instead of answering, Fíli leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head against her. Nála embraced him in return and then kissed the top of his head. After a few moments, she drew back and lifted his face.

"You have been in this room for a long time," she said. "How about we get out of here? We'll go sit in the parlor by the fire."

Fíli searched her eyes for a moment silently, looking unsure, and then he nodded. Nála took his hands and pulled him to his feet; he stood close, his nose nearly touching hers. His eyes trailed down to her lips, and Nála, conscious of Thorin watching, leaned back and turned her head towards the door. Fíli followed her gaze and, seeing his uncle, stepped back and ran a hand through his hair, his cheeks reddening. Nála kept hold of his other hand and tugged him towards the door.

"Come on," she said.

Fíli followed her out of the room and past Thorin, who looked impressed. She led him to the parlor, which was not far, and they settled down together on the couch. Fíli curled up and leaned into her heavily, pressing his face into the crook of her neck, and she rested her cheek on the top of his head, frowning. Thorin nodded to them from the door and departed, leaving the two of them alone. Nála stared out absentmindedly, gently stroking Fíli's arm. Something was weighing heavily on his mind; she suspected it had to do with whatever everyone else was hiding from her, but Fíli did not seem to be in the mood to talk. Minutes passed in silence.

Just when she had started to think he had fallen back asleep, Fíli spoke.

"Were you there when I… Óin said I had a seizure," he said. "Did you…?"

"Aye, I was there," she said.

Fíli groaned and bowed his head. She chuckled and kissed his temple lightly.

"It's all right," she said. "You couldn't help it."

"And after?" Fíli said into her collarbone. "With the…" He stopped, and his grip tightened on her leg. "Seeing things…"

Nála frowned. "I was there for that, too," she said. "Don't you remember?"

Fíli let out a shuddering breath and did not answer. Nála bit her lip. She knew that Fíli preferred to let things out at his own pace, but curiosity was eating away at her, and something was eating away at him. She brushed his braids behind his ear and then lifted his chin until he was looking at her, and then she gently pressed her lips to his; he responded in kind, drawing himself closer to her and opening his mouth to allow her further access. Instead of deepening the kiss, Nála drew back, and Fíli made a discontented noise in the back of his throat and looked up at her.

"Fíli, what did you see?" she asked.

He shook his head and leaned in again. "Why don't you just kiss me instead?" he whispered, closing the space between them.

Nála allowed him a small kiss before pulling back again. He looked at her miserably.

"Please, Nála," he said. "I… I need you to just… sit with me. For now. Please?"

"But why can't you—"

"Don't," said Fíli, his eyes widening. "Nála, please—I can't—everyone always wants me to talk about it, and I…" He paused and pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "My head—it's a mess right now—I can barely focus as it is… so… please."

Fíli opened his eyes, and a stone seemed to drop in Nála's stomach as she looked into them. They were shining, pleading, but there was something else there, too—a wavering, somehow, like he was looking at her and not looking at her at the same time, there and at the same time far away. It scared her. She wanted to know—needed to know—but the look in his eyes said that he was not ready to tell her.

"All right," she said. "We won't talk about that." She bit her lip. "Just… focus on me."

She leaned in and kissed him softly, and he melted into her. It was soft, and she could feel the relief coursing through him.

But then it was something different. His lips on hers were strong, seeking, desperate, and one hand was moving through her hair, the other on her leg, and she leaned back as Fíli plundered her mouth, his tongue exploring, her own responding, and the room began to fade away—

"Oh, Mahal, honestly…"

Fíli and Nála broke apart hastily and sat up, looking towards the door. Kíli was turning around to leave.

"Don't mind me," he said. "I just wanted to see how Fíli was doing… looks like you're just fine…"

"I'm sorry, Kíli," Nála called. "We didn't mean to—"

"You never mean to," said Kíli, giving the both of them an exasperated look. "But when you don't ever stop, someone's going to catch you." He tapped on the doorframe and looked to Fíli. "How are you feeling, brother?"

Fíli looked at his brother, and Nála furrowed her brow as some sort of silent communication went between the two of them. Here was that thing again. Kíli seemed to be looking for something that she could not decipher; something about the way he looked, the way he stood, made him seem like he was on the defensive, like he was used to being denied. Apprehensive.

When she looked at Fíli, she was baffled. One of the things that made their relationship so easy was that they always seemed to be on the same page, and it only took a look for them to come to an understanding. Now, she could understand that something was distracting him, pulling him from the present to somewhere else, but where that was, she did not know. Wherever it was, it was not a good place; it kept him quiet, withdrawn, trying to avoid it and yet it was all he could think about. She had felt it in that kiss. Usually, his kisses were spurred by longing, adoration, impatience; this time, it felt like when he leaned into her, he was trying to leave something behind, drawing the present from her lips.

The only piece missing was that very something he was so desperate to get away from. Curiosity was burning through her, but neither Fíli nor Kíli seemed to be volunteering any information, no matter how hard she looked. That faraway look grew stronger in Fíli's eyes, and finally, he looked away and leaned back into Nála.

"I'll pull through," he said quietly.

Nála started stroking his hair and looked up at Kíli, concerned. He was staring at his big brother, wide-eyed; then he abruptly turned and left the room without a word.

"Goodness," she mused, looking down at Fíli. "What was that about?"

"Nála, please," Fíli whispered, closing his eyes.

So she wasn't going to get answers any time soon, it seemed. She kissed the top of Fíli's head and let him rest.

Her mind was stirring with questions. What was it that he—and everyone else—was keeping from her? Why was it such a secret, and why did everyone seem to know except her? She looked down at Fíli's golden head and frowned. Whatever it was, she hoped he knew that he could trust her to stay at his side through anything. Fíli would open up to her soon; he wouldn't keep secrets from her for long.

Would he?


"Are you sure you want to do this now?"

"Aye, it's fine," Fíli replied. He looked up at Thorin; his uncle was looking back at him with a strange look in his eye. He recognized that look, and he hated it. It was not exactly fear, but it was not exactly a look of care, either; he was considering Fíli as something delicate and fragile, something to be handled lightly. He had seen it many times over the years.

Well, perhaps he was right.

"There is no harm in delaying judgment, my boy," said Thorin. "That Man can rot in prison for as long as we desire. Gondor has given us the right to do as we see fit."

"Perhaps it is better that he does sit for a while," Kíli added, plopping down in an armchair by the fire. "Make him realize that his life isn't going to be so comfortable anymore."

eyes

so many eyes

this is how they will all remember you

Fíli took Nála's hand. Here. He was here.

"Tell me why he did it," he said.

Thorin and Kíli exchanged looks. Fíli shifted his jaw as frustration bubbled up within him. He was having a difficult time, yes, but he was not made of glass.

heart beating

head beating

beating beating

He tightened his grip on Nála's hand, and she rested a hand on his knee. His shoulders relaxed and he closed his eyes.

What was he made of?

Focus. He opened his eyes.

"He is a servant of evil," said Thorin. "Of Sauron himself. The enemy wanted to show his hand, to show us that we are vulnerable even in our own domain… that even as we plan to unite, he can put a wedge between us. The goal was to poison Kíli, but it does not seem to have bothered him that it was you instead. Either way, his purpose is complete." Thorin scowled. "To show us how easy it is for him to infiltrate our ranks."

He had certainly proved that point. Fíli looked to Kíli.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"Execution," Kíli replied immediately. "He is a danger to others. Even if we imprison him, he still has a tongue. He can still get others to his side. And even if he doesn't, if we keep him in solitary confinement… he may garner a following. People will talk, make up stories. It is better if we show our strength now."

"But you can only kill a person, not an idea," said Fíli. "He will die, but his legacy will remain."

"Are you saying we should let him live?" Kíli asked, looking at his brother critically.

"No," said Fíli defensively. "Not necessarily…"

"Do you have a different idea, Fíli?" asked Thorin.

Did he have a different idea? Fíli looked down and considered.

keep low

out of sight

do not engage

"Fíli?"

light ahead

light behind

no way out

"Fíli, hey, come back to us."

Fíli blinked rapidly, pulling himself back. Kíli was crouching in front of him, his eyes fraught with concern. For a few moments, there was silence, but Kíli never broke his gaze.

"What's on your mind, Fee?" he asked gently.

"I'm sorry," Fíli whispered, looking from Kíli to Thorin. "I'm sorry, I'm trying, I really am…"

"Do you need to count?" Kíli asked. "Would that help?"

Fíli merely glared at his brother. Yes, it probably would help. But in front of Nála… She didn't know—he had never told her. He had never wanted to tell her. But how could he? How could he allow her to know that he was not as strong as she thought him to be—that he was a warrior haunted by war?

"Can someone tell me what is going on, please?" asked Nála beside him. A jolt of panic went through him as he turned and looked at her. He could feel Kíli's eyes on him, and he bowed his head.

"I'm fine," he ground out. "What were we talking about?"

fear in their eyes

go

run

He felt Nála's thumb pressed into his palm, moving in small circles. He looked at it, then up at her. She smiled softly.

"Good," said Kíli. Fíli wondered what he had said before; he must have missed something. "Now help him count on his fingers. He knows what to do."

Fíli glared at Kíli again.

"I am sure he knows how to count," said Nála, raising an eyebrow.

"Trust me," said Kíli. "Fíli, focus."

Fíli grimaced, but he did not see a way out of this. Not one that ended with him firmly rooted in the present. He looked down at his hand again; Nála had closed his fist, and she lifted one finger.

"One," she said, looking up at him curiously.

Fíli shifted his jaw.

snow swirling

bones burning

ice and fire

"Fíli, come on," said Kíli. "There is no need to be stubborn about this."

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and nodded. Kíli was right. He was tired of this, and he needed help. Keeping secrets would only make it worse.

Nála was still holding out his pointer finger.

"One," she repeated.

"Azog is dead," he said quietly.

He heard the gasp, but he did not look at her. He kept his gaze focused on his hand wrapped in hers. She lifted another finger.

"T-two."

"He cannot hurt me."

Another finger. "Three?"

"I survived."

One more. "Four."

"I am safe."

She lifted his thumb. There was a pause.

"Five."

"My family is safe," Fíli whispered. Azog was dead. He could not hurt him. He had survived. He was safe. His family was safe.

Were they safe?

"Execution," he said abruptly, looking up at Thorin. "He must be executed—soon. He cannot be allowed to live. No one is safe while he draws breath."

Thorin stared at Fíli for a few moments. Then he looked to Kíli.

"You are in agreement, Kíli?" he asked.

"Absolutely," Kíli replied. "We may not stamp out the will of the Dark Lord, but we can remove one wedge he tries to put between us."

"All right," said Thorin, crossing his arms and looking at his nephews. "If that is your final decision, I will inform Balin so we may give Denethor a chance to appeal."

Fíli frowned at Thorin. "A chance to appeal?"

"I doubt he will, but it would be a diplomatic courtesy to give him the chance," Thorin replied. He searched Fíli's eyes. "Will you be all right?"

Nála's thumb was pressing small circles into his palm again. "I'll manage," he said.

Thorin nodded and departed. Kíli pulled himself up from his crouch and stood before Fíli and Nála.

"Do you want me to go?" he asked.

"You don't have to," Fíli replied. He knew what Kíli was doing, and he did not enjoy being strong-armed into things by his little brother.

"I think I'll go," said Kíli. "Leave you two alone for a while… just remember you're not in private. This room doesn't even have a door."

"Oi," said Fíli, glaring at him as a blush crept over his cheeks.

Kíli smirked and winked at Nála, who quickly looked away. Fíli rolled his eyes.

"I'll get going, then," Kíli said. He started towards the door, but then he stopped and turned back around, his expression suddenly serious.

"Fíli, you should tell her," he said. "I think you know that."

Fíli did not respond. A few moments passed, and Kíli left. The room was silent. Nála moved closer, never letting go of his hand; she pressed a kiss to his temple and then leaned in close to his ear.

"I don't like you keeping secrets," she said. "Not from me."

Fíli took a deep breath. Didn't she already know enough? Did he have to tell her more?

Nála took his face in her hands and turned him to look at her. Her eyes were green as jade and hard as diamonds.

"I've loved you nearly all my life," she said. "Through absolutely everything. Do you really think there is something you can tell me that will make me stop loving you?"

Fíli leaned forward and kissed her. He did believe her—he would be a fool not to—but he did not know how she would react. She would still love him, but would she treat him differently? Would she see him as an invalid or something delicate? He wanted to savor one last kiss, one last taste of this, before he told her.

Finally he pulled back and touched his forehead to hers. There was silence between them for a long time, but Nála did not move, and she did not speak. He could feel her waiting.

"All right," he said. "All right… here goes."


One chapter left, I think. Don't quote me on that.

All memories in italics are taken from either BotFA or one of my own fics, namely Ice and Fire and The Ghost of Erebor. See if you can spot the references. ;)

My apologies to Amanda, who knows the couple Fíli and Nála's gross love is partly based on. Sorry for making you witness it yet again. I can't believe I wrote this much kissing. What the heck. My apologies to the rest of you, too.

Please review! I read somewhere once that people actually think that us fanfic writers don't want long reviews because that would be rude or something. That is very very very not true. You could write me a novel-length analysis and I would soak up every word.