Whoohoo! Your second look inside Fili's mind. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit.
Fili POV.
The water is cold and clear as it runs over my shaking, busted hands. I had expected it to help clear my mind, to strip away these strange feelings, to calm my mind. But it didn't. Instead watching my hands, streaming blood from my battered knuckles, I am reminded of what I want to forget. I am reminded of that moment. Of him. Why did I hesitate? I know why. But why is that why there? I have seen the same look in the eyes of many others and have only felt contempt or nothing at all. But why? Why did that scared, lonely, vulnerable look in his eyes, on his face tear at me so? Tear at my heart as if trying to reach something below its frozen surface? I shifted my hands under the water and more blood streams out and I am reminded that I bruised my hands so, on him and once again that same feeling of disgust and self hate, roils up. I clench my fists under the water and this time, go over the moment deliberately. The point where his vision clears and he recognizes his predicament. The look of despair when he knows, that I am going to break something. The vulnerable look, the fright, as it plays about his expression-able face and then, the loneliness. The loneliness that echoed out further than that moment in the ring. I wouldn't have cared. I don't care. But for some reason, even now as I replay it. Something about the way he looks makes me feel, well, bad. There is harsh, cynical laughter in my head. A kid, making me feel bad about hitting him, when he asked for the fight in the first place. And a kid he was. He knew nothing of the world. But he was a good fighter. He'd lasted longer than I'd expected. And that, that was the only reason I'd pulled my last punch. A token of my appreciation. There was no other reason, even if my messed up head was trying to tell me otherwise.