Author's Note: Hi guys! Here's the Friday update, which is actually happening on Thursday, due to my gentleman friend getting picked up at the airport at the time when I normally post, and the urging of all my readers that it should happen sooner rather than later. :) Hope you enjoy! And see if you can guess what my favorite line is in this chapter. No, it's not the title line. I'm not that obvious. :D

Disclaimer: All hail to Tolkien and the Wizard of Wellington! (Peter Jackson, if you didn't know.) ;)

He Is Not Dead to Me

The key grated in the lock with a horrible screech. Bilbo cringed, but the cell door swung outward a second later and the dwarves shoved past each other to get out. Fili elbowed his way to the front as the other dwarves filed out past him. Thorin stopped by his side to listen.

"Where're the weapons? Let's get Kili!"

Bilbo opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Thorin.

"No."

Fili turned to his uncle, but it was Bilbo who recovered speech first.

"What? You don't mean you're just going to leave him?"

"Yes."

"Hear me," Thorin continued, before Fili could protest, "I cannot risk the lives of all my dwarves for the hope of saving one, even though he be my kin. We have no way of knowing where he is in this hole, and if perchance we did find him it would be for nought. Kili is already dead to us-"

Fili interrupted, more angst in his manner than anger.

"Thorin, he's not dead to ME!"

"Peace, nephew." He sighed. "When we are safely out of the caves, I will come back for him. You have my word. But you will obey my command and stay with the company, both during our escape and when I return for your brother. I cannot loose both of you; you are far too valuable a warrior to this quest, Fili, and one day will reign as King. Am I understood?"

Fili stared at his uncle, his expression flat and unreadable.

"You are."

"Good," Thorin grunted, and turned to the halfling. "Lead us to the weapons. There is little time."

Fili still stared at his uncle.

Bilbo glanced between the dwarven-king and his fair-haired kin, a bit unsure and just a little nervous. He wished Gandalf would show up; he didn't think he was cut out for handling a lot of hot tempered warriors and royalty.

"Uh-m...right then. This way."

Bilbo quickly squeezed through the crowd of dwarves on the narrow rickety boardwalk and led the way through several twists and turns to a gouged-out crevice in the rock; fairly small and quite apparently disused. Rusty, but still wicked-looking spikes lined the inside walls.

"Nasty looking broom-closet," Dori commented, "What on earth is it for?"

"It's a carcer," Dwalin said, grimly. "Poor soul who ever was left in one of those!"

"Wait here," Bilbo said, quickly disappearing into the carcer, his small size allowing him to slip easily past. He'd left the goods piled at the back, where they could not accidentally be discovered.

A second or two later the dwarves were all gearing back up.

Fili slung on his pack, and then paused a moment before shouldering Kili's as well. His brother wasn't there to carry it. He strapped on Kili's quiver and bow. He had no idea how to use them; that had always been Kili's area. But he needed his hands free in the event of a fight, and leaving them behind wasn't an option. Kili would need them when he was safe. He made sure they were secure and began unclasping his belt.

"What are you doing?" Bilbo asked, watching him with a furrowed brow. Fili paused.

"Kili's sword?"

The hobbit shook his head regretfully.

"I didn't find it. It wasn't with the rest." He looked at Fili apologetically for a second, and then fumbled with the clasp of his own pack. "But I did find this. Isn't this his?"

Fili felt a strange tightness in his throat when he felt the object pressed into his hand. The smooth, cool stone, engraved on one side with khuzdul writings. Kili's talisman. The token of the promise to return to their mother. His hand closed and tightened around it, his jaw hardening. Kili would keep his promise. Fili would see to that.

"Excuse me, but shouldn't we be hurrying a little faster? What if goblins come and cut us all to bitsies?" Ori asked, in his infantile whine.

"Good point," Dwalin said, who'd been geared up before anyone else and was waiting impatiently for the others to finish.

"Where are the goblins? The guards?" Bofur asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"Watching their sport, no doubt," Thorin said, darkly, "Come. Our time is bought by Kili's torment; let us not linger."

"Right…okay," Bilbo said, obviously unsettled by Thorin's remarks, not to mention the actual situation. "It's a fairly direct rout to the exit; keep to the wider walkways and paths straight on until we come to the mountain of bones, then cross the wobbly rope bridge to the round tunnel. And follow it through to the end."

Bilbo knew he wouldn't be able to keep up enough to lead, and he let Thorin shove to the front of the group as the group set off in double time. There wasn't just one reason why he chose to walk in the back with Fili. An idea was niggling at the back of his mind, and the Tookish part was begging him to do it. The kind, decent parts of his Baggins side agreed, but the sensible side screamed at him not to. Disobeying orders, doing something incredibly dangerous. But then, maybe….his fingers fidgeted with the smooth, gold ring in his pocket.

"Bilbo. Bilbo," Fili hissed, giving a sharp tug on the halfling's sleeve to get his attention. "Come with me."

Bilbo looked at him, startled, quickening his pace to keep up.

"Where are you going? Thorin said-"

"Sh!" Fili hissed, glancing carefully at the dwarves ahead of them. "I'm getting my brother. You're the burglar, and you know your way around. Coming or not?"

Bilbo glanced back at the group, and then turned back towards Fili. His fist closed around the treasure in his pocket. And in that moment, his Tookish side completely and indisputably won out.

Author's Note: And yes, the carcer is an actual torture device. It was used in Soviet Russia behind the Iron Curtain. I learned about it from the book by Richard Wurmbrand, who was tortured in prison there for fourteen years. So, little miniature history lesson for you, right there! See how educational these things can be? (Not to mention borderline morbid)