Brothers

Chapter 10: Uncontrollable Blaze

Kili swallowed hard, hugging the pine as he watched the orcs below him warily. His body was aching and warm, and he knew it had nothing to do with the effort of climbing the tree, for that had been over an hour ago.

"He ain't coming down," one of the orcs griped. "I'll tell Dakog."

"Wait," another hissed. "This one's mine. I'm not sharing."

The first orc growled but seemed to begrudgingly agree.

All three peered up at Kili in the golden light of the setting sun, and he felt a chill from their amphibian faces being focused on him all at once.

"It doesn't shoot us because it's injured," the second orc, who had taken the lead, remarked. "Isn't it?"

Kili swallowed hard. "I wouldn't want to waste the arrows on you filth."

The leading orc sniffed deeply. "I smell sick and blood. Come on down and I'll clean the festering hole for you – by eating it."

Kili blanched and tightened his grip on the pine, though his arms cramped from having been in the same position for so long and he felt rather seasick from the swaying of the tree.

"If you so much as touch me," he shouted down, forcing courage into his voice. "I'll kill every last one of you. And then some."

"I don't know about you, boys," the leading orc chuckled. "But I'm scared outta my wits. Looks like the kitten thinks it can bite."

Kili sneered and loosened his hold enough to show the orcs below that he had a knife. As soon as they erupted in cackling, he wished he hadn't. They were right: he couldn't do much with the small weapon from this height. He cursed his injured hand, for if he could use his bow, he'd have made quick work of his tormentors long ago.

After a nod from the leading orc, one of the others withdrew what appeared to be rocks from its belt. Kili held the knife out in front of him, hoping to deflect the projectiles. The orc stepped back behind Kili where he couldn't see.

Not about to let himself get pelted in the back, Kili stiffly rose, readying to scoot to the other side of the trunk when a whining sound registered in his ear. A split second later, something was trying to cut off his head.

His good hand immediately flew to his neck that was burning as if with insect venom, realizing with shock that a thin line had dug into his skin, wound in place by the rocks he'd seen in the orc's hand.

Struggling to breathe, his smashed windpipe only let in a squeaking thimbleful of air, and primal panic that took over him was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. The orcs were laughing and cheering below but he was dying, his strength fading as his lungs burned. He tore at his own skin but couldn't get the molten twine off.

Before he registered the thought, he'd dropped his bow and was climbing down as fast as he could, but it wasn't fast enough. Pinpricks of light shot across his vision like shooting stars, then he couldn't see anything and could only hear his own blood like a swollen river, and he was falling.

Thorin unsheathed his sword as he registered the movement in the distance as a belonging to a horse. Someone was coming.

He stretched his arms and loosened his shoulders as he approached the rider, preparing to spring into action if need be. Yet even as he readied himself for an attack, he recognized the fair fur and steady lope of a pony. A familiar pony.

"Kili?" he shouted before cursing himself for his rash action. He had no idea who could be watching.

The pony broke into a canter and Thorin trotted towards it, his heart racing wildly when he recognized that it bore no rider.

"No…"

Spurring Zharr into a gallop, he met up with the pony and took in its severed reins and pillaged saddle bags.

"Oh, by Durin, no…"

Dismounting, he greeted the pony whose name he couldn't remember, other than it belonging to a flower as a joke among the boys. He rounded the pony, checking her over for any sign of what could have happened to her rider, relieved that there were no bloodstains on her pale fur.

But even so, her reins had been cut. His heart clenched over the thought of having to bear Kili's broken body home and lay him on Dis' doorstep. His sister wouldn't be able to survive it. And now that he was faced with it, nor could he.

Thorin yanked a length of rope out of his saddlebag and tied Kili's pony to the pommel of his saddle before hastily remounting. He spurred Zharr harder than he should have and both ponies broke into a gallop and he charged east, the cold wind whipping tears into his eyes.

He would find his nephew, and slay those responsible for harming him. Even if Kili was beyond saving.

A horrible, wheezing whistle kept sounding in Kili's ears, waking him up, and it took some time before he recognized it as his own breathing. He tried to lift a hand to his neck but his arm felt made of stone and he couldn't move.

Birds chirped on the fringes of his consciousness and something very close by stank of mildew, sweat and dung. A slap to his cheek forced his eyes open, and Kili looked up into the spinning image of the three orcs peering down at him.

"See?" one barked. "Told you it was still alive."

"Only one way to find out," another said.

Kili only had time to take another ragged breath before a boot was slammed into his side, boring into his wound. Kili screamed, arching his back as he tried to recoil from the pain as the rest of his body awakened from the near-strangulation.

His tortured cry echoed in the surrounding hills, bouncing down to the fortress where Fili heard it as a sound so distant that he couldn't place it. Yet it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He held his breath, listening for more.

Kili was dragged to his feet and hauled to the trunk of a tree. Two orcs held him in place against the bark while his vision swirled and was peppered with lights. The third orc approached with a length of rope, and just as it was a foot away, Kili's stomach churned from his dizziness and he retched. Onto the orc's face.

For a moment, all four stood in silence, watching the sick drip off of their comrade's nose.

Kili recovered the fastest, though recover wasn't quite the word for he still felt half drunk. A short little chuckle escaped his throat, and the orcs all turned to stare at him for another heartbeat before yanking his arms behind him and lashing him to the tree.

The soiled orc grabbed a handful of pine needles and cursed in Black Speech as he attempted to clean himself.

"You'll pay for that," he growled. "I'll make you scream even when you're past feeling pain."

Kili spat on the ground, the throbbing of his head finally abating enough for him to realize just what was going on. The rough bark of the pine stabbed into his quiver-less back and blood was crusting on his neck. The wound in his side was causing the muscles around it to spasm and he felt detached from his own body as he watched the soiled orc unsheathe a blade.

He'd always imagined that if he were tortured, he'd be terrified but would force himself to hide his fear. But now that it came down to it, he felt oddly separate from the situation. He knew he ought to be afraid but this was all so ridiculous, so painfully real that he just couldn't grasp it. Not even when the rusting blade dragged across his chest in a burning line, drawing a crimson trail from collarbone to side.

The orc watched his face intently, frowning when the young dwarf gave no reaction other than meeting his gaze, his waxy complexion almost calm.

The other two orcs shared a nervous glance. "It doesn't feel it," one muttered.

"Didn't I tell you they're not good sport?"

"Quiet!" the soiled orc snapped.

"It's true," the other insisted. "Look at the yellow one in the cell. He never eats nor drinks and no matter how much we beat him, he doesn't react. They're made of stone, they are."

Kili's pupils constricted as the orc's words made his world come back into focus.

He was tied to a tree while the birds around him sang their roosting songs, for the sun was setting, and once its golden rays were gone, the night would be terribly cold without a fire. His chest burned as sweat mingled with blood, and by Durin, it actually did hurt. Because he wasn't made of stone. He wasn't made of stone because his heart was pumping furiously in his breast, nearly dancing at the words.

The yellow one in the cell. Fili. He'd been right. His brother was alive. His brother was alive and the blazing hope in his breast had just been stoked into an uncontrollable blaze and he was laughing. He was laughing so hard that he was doubling over.

The three orcs shifted nervously around him, backing up a ways.

"It's mad…" One whispered. "I told you from the start. I smelled sick."

"Do you think it's rabid?" the other asked, backing up even further.

Kili felt tears clumping his lashes as he tried to stop laughing long enough to breathe and failed.

"Shut up," the soiled orc snarled. When the young dwarf ignored him, he marched over and grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking his head back. "I said shut up!"

When Kili didn't react, he hauled his fist back and slugged him in the side once more.

Kili's laugh choked into a cough. Growling, the orc slugged him again, and this time he got the reaction he wanted as the dwarf screamed.

In his cell, Fili leapt to his feet then hissed as he hit his head against the rock above him. That was a scream, he knew it was. But it didn't belong to an orc. That was someone being tortured. His arms shook as the haunting cry replayed itself in his mind.

He wasn't the only one who noticed, for Dakog mounted his warg and after shouting a few commands, took off, heading towards the source of the cries.

Kili gagged and tried to retch again but he had nothing left to throw up. He sagged against the ropes, thankful they were there to help support his weight as he forced all of his energy into breathing. His knees had buckled from the last blow and his vision went in and out of focus with each heartbeat. Heat flared up his spine, flushing his body into sweating even more and he knew it was because he didn't have enough air.

Digging his heels into the ground, he clenched his jaw to stay quiet as he straightened his torso, leaning back against the trunk and straightening his neck. He closed his eyes, taking deep, steadying breaths through his bruised windpipe.

He knew the orcs were still there but they were a distant annoyance – like pesky flies. How could they be anything else if Fili was alive? Alive! And down the hill waiting for him.

Something cold touched his face as the scent of his own sick drew nearer. He didn't open his eyes, for he could feel the hot breath of the orc touching his cheek. The clawed fingers on his jaw tightened as a drum assaulted his ears. They tightened again, shaking his head, and Kili realized it wasn't a drum at all, but a voice.

"Look at me," the orc beside him demanded, and Kili opened his eyes, though his lids were still heavy.

The soiled orc sneered in a smile.

"That's better," he hissed, raising his rusting blade to rest against Kili's scabbing throat. "I want to watch your eyes as your little light goes out."

Kili stiffened as the orc's words wormed their way into his brain, and his mind screamed that no matter how tired he was, no matter how he hurt, he could do his brother no good if he were dead.

The orc chuckled as it pressed the blade against him, and Kili realized that the fiend held a fistful of his hair, pinning his head back. Bound as he was, there was only one thing he could do.

The orc loosed his grip just enough to gain the leverage to slice, and in that moment, Kili brought his knee up, ramming the orc in the groin as hard as he could, just as his mother had taught him to do to strangers when he was small.

The orc's mouth twisted into an O as he lowered the blade, its eyes wide as he let go of Kili's hair and stumbled backwards, curling in on itself as a strained groan escaped his throat.

Kili smirked, adrenaline pumping through his veins, feeding his senses until he felt alert once more.

The other two orcs gave the soiled orc a wide berth as he continued to stumble backwards. Once several feet away, he straightened, snarling at Kili. With a bellow, he raised its rusted sword and charged.

Kili's eyes widened and he jerked from one side to the other, desperately trying to escape his bonds. But there was no escape, and the fiend was charging straight for him with murder in his eyes.

Bracing himself, Kili held his breath…

Only to see the soiled orc snatched up in the jaws of a warg as the rider pounced upon it. Kili gasped as the warg shook its prey then then threw the lifeless body to the wayside. Looking up, the dwarf recognized the rider as the same who had attacked him and Fili all those nights ago, and despite his relief, dread crept up his spine as they locked eyes and he knew the rider recognized him as well.

"You," Dakog snarled, prodding his warg towards the dwarf.

Kili once again strained against the ropes, gritting his teeth as his wounds complained.

"You're supposed to be dead, whelp."

The warg paused just in front of Kili, and Kili turned his head away as it sniffed his prone form then dragged its tongue across the blood on his chest.

"What happened here?" Dakog demanded of the two remaining orcs, who were cowered in the distance.

"We… we found him in a tree," one squeaked. "We only wanted a bit of sport. We didn't know he was valuable."

Dakog growled.

"That's a lie," Kili said, surprised by the strength of his voice. "They found my pony first then treed me when I confronted them."

Dakog whipped his head from Kili to his subordinates. "I knew you stank of deceit."

The orc hardly had a chance to squeal before its cries were replaced with gurgles as the warg sank teeth into his flesh and the orc's lung ruptured with a pop. His companion cowered, covering his head.

Kili let out a shaky breath, trying to still the quaking of his body as Dakog slowly turned and unsheathed his sword, advancing upon him with a wicked smile.

Please share your thoughts by reviewing – I'm making this up as I go and you never know – you're feedback just might influence the direction of the story! :)