Um, yeah, it's been a (long) while, but I'm still alive! Here's the next part! :)

Exhaustion didn't even begin to label what exactly trailing his overexerted body around really felt like, Dwalin mulled cynically as he and Dori carefully weaseled their way around the ruins of Dale, scouting the perimeter for the night and (vainly, in his mind) keeping an eye out for possible unfortunate survivors.

They had been stuck here for about three weeks now, and the burly warrior strongly doubted that anyone who hadn't previously made it safely and relatively unharmed to the Great Hall would have survived this long by their lonesome- he didn't particularly want to discredit Human will to survive, but even stretching the whole thing, it seemed realistically impossible a feat to achieve by oneself.

Nevertheless, he understood why he and Dori were tasked to do this while they were keeping an eye out and patrolling through the miserable cold, their faces sore and red after hours spent outside facing the unforgiving elements: this had become the only way to keep some semblance of hope and optimism among the survivors, men and dwarves alike, for Bard's dwindling comrades and what remained of the Iron Hills' army had grown weak and weary after such a long siege with little to no supplies left for them, and were thus of no real efficiency anymore when out on the battleground. Dwalin still didn't particularly appreciate being the one stuck out here by his lonesome in the dark and cold though, and the fact that Dori had eventually insisted in joining him, claiming that he could probably do with another sturdy companion by his side to keep him company and watch his back (Dwalin had scoffed at that last part, a trained warrior such as himself knew how to ensure their own safety, he'd been doing fine over the past two weeks). It hadn't really been much of an improvement to their situation however, it just meant that if ever they were to be unlucky enough to be taken by surprise, that they would be two to die instead of just his sorry arse.

Near a month of fighting in an increasingly desperate effort to protect what now amounted to nothing more than a bunch of ruins certainly seemed to have taken a toll on him and his psyche, and had sent what little remained of Dwalin's ever-dwindling optimism plummeting. Their current situation certainly wasn't one he found ideal: trapped in a crumbling city, whatever soldiers still stood all reaching a point far beyond exhaustion, their weakest being torn apart day after day –waiting for Gandalf to hopefully return with help from Rohan seemed pointless now, by the time he made it back (if he did, that was) they would most likely be dead- gaunt women and children who dared not entertain a glimmer of optimism that they might survive if they dared set a foot outside in a desperate attempt to flee now found themselves slowly starving to death locked inside the Great Hall, nothing Dwalin could really foresee as a potential victory for them. Poor Bombur had done his best to ration whatever little stocks they had left, but he'd searched out for Thorin a few days ago in a frantic panic to tell him that even those were dwindling fast, and if they didn't manage to do something soon, Dwalin had no doubts that hunger would wipe them all out a lot faster than the orcish spears and crude axes that were waiting for them outside. This certainly wasn't the glorious end he'd pictured for himself once upon a time, when he'd been naught but a dwarfling looking up to the tales of battles of old and grand dwarven heroes.

If he were to be honest with himself, Dwalin had to admit that the Company wasn't faring much better than their companions from Dale or from the Iron Hills. There were little doubts as to their skills: even the youngest members, Kili and Ori, had been well trained and verse din the art of war and wielding weapons (after all they had to be if they hoped to join Thorin Oakkenshield's companions before departing the Ered Luin), and the two had so far been lucky enough be blissfully unaware of experiencing hunger gnawing at their insides since Nori and Thorin had taken it upon themselves to delegate their shares to them instead –and it had taken some degree of convincing before they had relented, and instead had taken to offering their help around the Hall with whatever strength they could spare.

An extremely reluctant Thorin had even let Kili go outside that one time, under Dwalin's supervision of course, to help their human companions on a run for whatever weapons they could find (young stealthy dwarves with better eyesight were candidates of choice for such missions, and with little youth left to spare, Kili had offered himself, promising adamantly that he would be more careful this time around). Dwalin had naturally kept a close eye on him the whole time, knowing all too well that losing his youngest nephew weeks after Kili's brother would more than likely break Thorin beyond repair –Fili dying and the Company subsequently coming to terms with the loss of one of their own had not been easy. It was something neither Kili nor Thorin had had an opportunity to properly grieve yet for it was something they could not afford to do while under constant attack – Kili however seemed to have cut down on his reckless attitude however, which was a small relief for all of them.

At the end of the day, the dead stayed dead. Only the living could go on to fight another day and hope to secure a time for mourning and proper goodbyes in the future, and having Kili understand it and grow from it was a small thing Dwalin had begun to cling to. He and many others were beginning to truly see just how much they had lost from this siege, how much they had things and people torn away from them without a chance at a proper goodbye, but if victory meant a chance to come to terms with it all and eventually find a way to move on for Kili, for Thorin, for himself, for everybody, then it was worth hanging on just a little longer. It was worth fighting to live.

By pure chance or some luck that Fate deemed it necessary to bestow mercy upon them for a short while, the orc filth seemed inclined enough to give them respite for tonight. The eerie silence weighing heavily over the ruins of Dale and the decaying bodies littering the crackled pavements they could not afford to bring back to the Great Hall out of fear of a possible infection, was by no means a comforting picture to look at, but was proof enough that for tonight at least, they could lay down their weary bodies and rest for a short while. And by the Gods did they need it at this point.

Ever the duty-fulfiller however, Dwalin had offered to stay out on watch, and thus now found himself patrolling down a nausea-inducing painting of corpses and decaying flesh, carefully stepping over the bodies until his feet knocked into something hard. Daring to have a little hope as he cast his eyes down, his knees cracking uncomfortably as he knelt over the item, he reached a hand out for the cloth material, taking a hold of the rough texture in his hand and peeling it back over the box slowly with baited breath, hoping against hope that it might be something he could bring bac-

Of course it just had to be empty, just his luck. Dwalin's heart sank heavily as he realized that he and a lot of the others would still be going hungry tonight. His famished stomach gave an audible growl as he kept staring at the food-less container, as if hoping to find some safely tucked away left-over crumbs of some sort he might feast on in the corner, and to quell it's cries, the dwarf's hands swiftly flew to his offending organ, pressing down harshly in the hopes to quell it's cries and not dwarf attention to himself. Ignore it, ignore it. You've probably gone over a day without food, you can keep on going for another few hours.

"I feel you, mate. I think I could do with another rade of Bilbo's pantry tonight."

Dwalin smiled fondly at that, the memory of what seemed to be all of a sudden a time long past, before all this, back when things were simpler. Back when they had hope. "If we ever manage to get our hands on that, can you imagine how goddamned happy everyone would be? Why, we'd be heroes!"

"Mahal knows I'd like that." Dori sighed wistfully, remembering a time that seemed long gone now, when his little brothers still had high hopes for a grand and glorious adventure, when neither of them had been disillusioned like they were now. "A blast from the pa-"

But Dwalin however, interrupted him as he held his hand up, the other one going straight for the damaged axe at his hip, and the small air of camaraderie vanished into thin air. Dori longed for it to come back for a moment, upset at no longer even being able to share little moments with his closest friends without it being taken away from him, instead replaced with that all encompassing fear he'd grown accustomed to when looking out for his own life.

Painfully aware of his thundering heartbeat now, almost certain that he'd just given away their exact location whatever orc must be lingering in the rubble around them, Dori pressed his back into his comrade's and gripped his weapon tighter, feeling his knuckles go white as he wrapped his fingers around the pommel of his battle-weary sword.

Their feet creaked in the snow below, their breaths felt more like pants, little white clouds exhaled from his mouth in time with his increasing heartbeat and the pair of them crouched down as they reached the side of what must have been some merchant's stall, the ruined frame of his selling cart now lay broken against a crumbling wall.

Leaning against the solid stone, Dori could now very clearly hear the grunting and shuffling on the other side and he swallowed in anticipation, not looking forward to this at all. His arms were heavy, exhausted and covered in cuts Oin had deemed too superficial to treat –what little they had went for the ill and deeply wounded, and as long as the damage his body sustained did not prevent him from fighting, Dori had to do with nothing- but the lingering fear he had of sustaining something deeper or having the misfortune of opening them while fighting off one of those orc-filth (and potentially not being there for Ori and Nori, which was by far the worst) had him suddenly very worried and very aware of the fact that he could simply not afford to be careless with his body, not when his only family depended on him coming back to them alive and well.

Dwalin seemed to be wrestling with the same problem for Dori could clearly see the dilemma written all over the burly dwarf's face as he turned to him, taking a deep breath. Silently, Thorin's best friend counted down with his hand and as he curled back his last finger, Dori gripped his sword as tight as he could, raised his arm and the pair rounded the corner-

"No please! Please don't! I'm not one of them, I swear!"

Dwalin halted in his movement, arm still drawn back and ready to strike as Dori lowered his weapon slightly, poking the tip of his blade beneath the creature's face. From its kneeled position, it held its hands up in surrender, and craning his neck to either side, Dwalin saw no trace of any weapon beneath the fabric of the stranger's dirtied clothes –pretty foolish, to be out here without any means to defend oneself in times like these.

"Are you tiring to get yourself killed out here?" It came out a lot more harshly than Dwalin had probably meant it to be, but the cold, exhaustion and utter brainless decision this fool had made for himself really tried his patience.

Dori shot him a dirty look, already lowering his weapon and crouching down next to the huddled figure, hand reaching out towards the stranger's arm.

"We're not going to hurt you, just… Let us help, we can bring you back to the others, it's warmer there, we might even be lucky and gat a hand on a spare change of clothes for you. Just let me give you a hand-" He said quietly, as if he were trying to soothe a spooked pony or calm a crying dwarfling, and instead of butting in, Dwalin stood back, keeping an eye on their surroundings and hand at the ready just in case –or at least he did until the hood was pushed back and Dori's exclamation had him turning right back to him.

"H-How can you possibly still be alive?!"

Indeed, while neither had expected to come face to face with anyone in particular, Dwalin could safely say they had not ever thought that they would be seeing the lecherous little scum that had first welcomed them to Lake Town at his Master's side. How the little man was still alive when the little he'd seen of him had let Dwalin know that he was in no way cut out for survival was truly the only question he could come up with on the spot.

"Well?" He asked, poking him with his weapon again to get him to answer.

"O-Okay." The trembling voice certainly didn't do him any favors, if anything, Dwalin remained as unimpressed as he'd been the first time they'd first met in Lake Town. "O-Okay, just, pull that thing back a little."

Dwalin did so without lowering the sword: Likspittle was a coward, there was no denying that, but he also seemed to be cunning (he had to, if he had managed to survive almost a month by his lonesome), and Thorin's companion wasn't above suspecting that at the first chance he got, the quivering human would make a run for it if he could. "So," He pressed. "How come you're still in one piece?"

"Orcs." The human choked out, lips turned blue and trembling due to the cold. "They're smarter than Bard and your boy Oakenshield gave them credit for, they cornered me and decided to keep me. Thought I could be a reliable source of information."

Dwalin could already feel where this was going, anger bubbling up in his chest and found himself having to clench his fist closed to avoid striking the man across the face. "And you did? Tell them how to get in here? Where to strike? The best ways to cut us off?"

Dori was the only reason Alfrid didn't get punched in the face right there and then as he placed himself between Dwalin and the human, and for good measure, the latter thought it wise to take a step back, just in case the angry dwarf decided to come at him again. What reason could he have to take it out on him anyway? In Alfrid's books, he'd managed to survive, and if a few dead people were a consequence to that, well he guessed he could live with it if it meant that he was still breathing at the end of the day.

However, antagonizing them would probably not be a wise move on his part, especially if he was supposed to gain Oakenshield's trust and have him believe it was necessary for him to go all the way up the mountain again, and so, thinking quickly, Alfrid did what he usually did, and used others to get by. It had always worked for him before, and he certainly saw no reason to stop now.

"N-No, t-that wasn't me. However, I can still be of use to you." He stuttered, partly to play his part and partly because of the cold. If he could just convince them to bring him back to the Great Hall and offer him a bowl of nice soup…

The burly dwarf raised a questioning eyebrow at that, already taking a step back and hand inching for his weapon once again, much to the grief of his silver haired companion, who had to talk him out of it.

"And why should we believe you'd have anything of value to offer us?"

Time to play your cards right, Alfrid.

"Because I have information, something Thorin might be interested in knowing."

Thorin eyes flicked from Dori to Dwalin, and went back and forward several times as he took in the tale they'd spun. It all seemed a little surreal when they'd first said it, after Bombur had sat them down in front of the fire at the center of the Hall and offered them what little soup he could spare for them, and he looked back to the quivering human several times (Bifur and Bofur had agreed to tend to the scratch on his head and were now trying to get him to talk, and judging by Bofur's expression, neither seemed to be getting much out of him), he really didn't look like much, what with the trembling limbs and the blanket threatening to fall off his shoulders at any minute.

"You think he's telling the truth?" He asked after a while, pondering on the answer the human had given them.

"Honestly, I can't say. He's good at lying, and I certainly wouldn't believe everything coming out of his mouth, but I don't see a reason as to why he'd lie either. What ahs he got to lose?" Dori asked, shoulders sagging as he wrapped his hands around the warm bowl. His stomach growled, crying to be fed.

"I still don't trust him." Dwalin grumbled, obviously more inclined to just throw him back out to the wolves as soon as they were done with him. "He said he'd offered up information as to how best attack and surround Dale, he gave the orc scum that piece of information, all to admitted to it himself, why should we believe anything else he might have to offer."

"But you did say he wanted to talk to me, personally?" Thorin asked back, still not quite getting what the battered human could possibly have to offer him that might be of any interest.

"Aye, wouldn't tell us though." Dori shrugged, glancing past his shoulder.

"I still wouldn't trust him. Probably only looking to save his own skin." Dwalin muttered, clearly not willing to give the human a chance.

Neither did Thorin for that matter, after all, Alfrid had never shown them any kind of favor, and if anything, he'd been openly hostile to them ever since that first evening in Lake Town. There was absolutely no reason for the man to seek him out specifically, and the less it made sense, the more nervous he could feel himself growing. What kind of game was he playing at?

He caught Bard's eye over the fire, the other man watching the fellow survivor skeptically, as if weighing his options as to what he could do, until he decided to take a step towards him. Thorin did the same, Bofur and his cousin immediately stepping back, as if aware their lord would probably wish to speak to Alfrid alone.

It was awkward for a minute, both Thorin and Bard eying each other, as if waiting for the other to make the first step while Alfrid gulped down the soup between them until the other sighed, and sat down beside him, leaning back and stretching his tired legs, muscles cracking in the process. It had been a long day for all of them.

"So, how exactly did you survive in a pack of orcs for three weeks?" Bard asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow, ready to distrust whatever came out of the man's mouth if it wounded too far-fetched. "Forgive me for sounding rude, but they don't exactly seem like the type to let a mere man off the hook."

"I-I was with Mikkel-"

"The blacksmith.?"

"Aye, he and I got caught together." Alfrid lied, not looking Bard in the eye and focusing on the warm soup instead –it was a nice change from the meat, he could say that for sure. "He's a good spokesman you see, he thought it would be a good idea to offer our services to them if it meant we got to live. We'd be able to escape one day that way."

"Orcs aren't famous for letting their prisoners go." Thorin cut in, finding the whole story rather odd, but with no proof Alfrid was lying, he guessed he just had to take it at face value. Maybe Azog had kept him alive.

"They do if you have something to offer them. And what with the dwarf they had and Mikkel being desperate enough to do anything to save his life, he quickly came up with some idea."

"Dwarf?" Even to his ears, the question sounded dumb. Thorin knew there was nobody left up there, it had been him, Dwalin, Kili and Fili, they had been the only ones to attempt to 'cut off the head of the snake' as Gandalf put it, and had failed in the attempt. Dain certainly hadn't brought up having tried to climb the mountain either after the incident.

"Dain's people would have tried to climb up there behind his back?" Bard suggested, looking to Thorin for conformation, but the latter only shook his head. The read-headed was quite reckless at times, but he wouldn't have been that frivolous with the lives of his men. Anybody going up there by themselves was practically suicide in his books.

"He was younger than your friend over there." Alfrid pointed out, seizing the opportunity to get Thorin to listen to him. "Little blond boy, not much older than the one I saw writing notes earlier."

"Blond?" Either it was weariness finally getting to him or Thorin was indeed slow that evening, but the distinction didn't go unnoticed by him. Thing was, Alfrid had to have been mistaken, there were no blond dwarves down here, his nephew had been the only one, and well… He was long dead, he'd seen it himself. "Your eyes probably did a number on you, there are no-"

"Aye, the one you left behind with his injured brother, that blond." Fingers crossed in the sleeve of his coat, Alfrid hoped he could get Oakenshield to believe him. The conversation wasn't going exactly the way he'd wanted it, but at least, that piece of information was out now, he simply had to get him to believe it was worth his while going up the mountain again and then he would be free to leave. "He's alive." He added for good measure, just to get it to sink in.

He's alive.

Thorin blinked. Blinked again. Blinked several times as the words still rung in an echo around his ears as they waited for him to let them sink in and believe it was true.

Fili was alive.

According to Alfrid, Fili was alive.

Apparently.

But-

"No." He shook his head vividly, making the image of his elder nephew disappear. It simply wasn't possible, he'd seen it himself, nobody could have survived that blade, let alone the fall. There was no way. Kili had even told him he was dead, had come to him needing reassurance, a shoulder to cry on and a chest to burry himself in, there was absolutely no way Kili would have left his brother behind. Alfrid was lying to get him to fight, have him take care of the beast while he quivered and shook behind his back.

"No, you're lying. My nephew died three weeks ago, I saw it for myself with my own two eyes!" He shook his head, the resounding thud as his sister-son's body had hit the ground, unmoving, after the Defiler had let go of him still fresh in his mind. There were a lot of things Thorin was willing o believe, but this nonsense was not one of them.

Alfrid, however, still looked unimpressed, actually raising an eyebrow as if daring him to come up with a valid reason as to why he would be lying. Which made absolutely no sense: Thorin ad seen the blood, the unmoving body, he'd seen it all. "H-He can't possibly be alive after that, you've got the wrong person."

Shut it down right now.

Alfrid shrugged his shoulders, having half expected this. Thorin had seen the kid impaled and dropped down the side of the cliff, his other nephew had no doubt run back to him, telling him his brother was dead, he had no reason to believe the brat was alive in the first place. And now realizing that he was going to have to find some damn good story to get him to believe he was alive didn't seem as easy as he'd initially thought.

"Well, I know for a fact that the kid called out for you –Thorin Oakenshield is your name after all- I was there. After, with what's been done to him I'm not entirely sure he'll actually want to see you again though. I'm honestly surprised he didn't try to kill himself or that your orc pal didn't off him, what with all the crying he was doing."

Thorin, who had turned away, stilled. Alfrid was lying, Alfrid had got to be lying, there was no other explanation possible, but the words still hurt, to have his deceased nephew talked about in such a manner.

"Don't know how he's doing now, but last I saw, he was definetly-"

"Stop it!" Whether he was aware of it and doing it on purpose or not, Alfrid was picking at a raw wound, one Thorin wasn't ready to deal with right now. He had grieved, they all had, but it was behind them: Fili was dead, there was nothing they could do to bring him back, could only hope to honor him properly once this was all over, and here was this coward, trying to talk him into believing he was still alive- "He's dead! Whoever your fellow prisoner was, it wasn't hi, couldn't have been. He's… dead."

Thorin hated how his voice wavered on that last word, as if he'd almost hesitate don it as he'd turned back to Alfrid, as if he'd hesitated when he'd seen the raised eyebrow and impassive features, as if he was subconsciously already doubting (wanted to doubt) his own mind.

Indeed, Alfrid caught onto the pause, knew what it meant and saw his opening. The dwarf was wavering –it was slight, anyone else might have missed it- but he caught on, grasped ad that tiny seed of doubt and pried on Thorin's possible willingness to believe. He had his opening, now if he could just push a little further and convince Oakenshield to actually go up there, he knew he would sleep easy tonight.

Alfrid had offered nothing as rebuttal yet, but he hadn't corrected Thorin either, and he now found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. He didn't know what to think anymore: the chances that his nephew was alive, that there was even the hint of a chance that he might see him again (apologize, bring him back, to where he belonged) weighed heavily on his conscience. Part of him wanted to believe Alfrid's words, that he was telling the truth because it was Fili, Fili was family, something he had all too little of and someone he would want back at any costs if he could.

But if Alfrid was telling the truth, the heavy underlining of his words meant that his nephew had also spent the past month in the company of the Defiler, and all of a sudden, Fili dying when Azog had initially gotten his hand son him seemed like such a more merciful outcome. Mahal only knows what he will have tone to him.

The mere thought of it was enough to have him shaking his head in denial again, the sheer possibility that it might have happened too horrible to face.

"No, the Defiler ran him through, I saw it. Dwalin saw it. Bilbo saw it. Kili saw it! There is no way Kili would have left his brother were he alive!"

He was pacing now, hand restless as it worried his beard and then his hair as Thorin was vainly trying to convince himself –and doing a rather poor job at it- Alfrid was lying. Looking back at him, the man looked unperturbed, as if leaving the choice whether he ought to trust him or not up entirely up to Thorin. He'd said his piece, and had it been a lie, Thorin liked to hope he would have seen something flicker in the other man's expression that would have given him away, and unfortunately, nothing had. The possibility that Fili just might be alive became slightly more real then as he kept waiting for Alfrid's features to betray him. After all, from where he'd stood that day, it had been impossible for him to judge whether his nephew was alive after the fall or not, he'd simply assumed without ever checking. If what Alfrid said was true, that he'd seen him up close and that Fili was still breathing…

Caught in the dilemma, Thorin bit his lip, unsure as to whether he even wanted Fili to be alive in the first place. If he was still alive, it meant that a rescue could still be organized, that Thorin could still go after him, that Kili could actually have his brother back that he could still apologize for leaving him there in the first place after they saved him.

If there's something left to save.

Because Thorin had no illusions that three weeks with his sworn nemesis would not have born well for his sister-son, who was probably a mangled mess of broken bones and tortured skin at this point.

"W-Why should I believe you?" Shit, now his voice sounded meek, unfit for a future dwarf king, the tremor of anticipation definitely audible to whoever would have been in the same vicinity as them at that moment. But Thorin be damned, even as he asked it, he still wanted to trust a dishonest guy like Alfrid, because this wasn't some random citizen of Lake Town or Dale they were talking about, this was his nephew, Fili, who he'd seen grown up all though his life, how own blood.

Alfrid, for his part, sensed that something had changed, and that he now had the opportunity to get the complete upper hand if he was careful. He just had to make it that more real for Thorin, give him something concrete to back up his words, and as he rummaged through the pocket of his coat, he was fortunate enough to come across a small sharp object, the knife he'd first pulled off the kid. Well, if that didn't reel him in completely, he wasn't too sure what else he could offer.

"Here, he must have dropped it before they got him."

Thorin took the offered object, one of Fili's prized knives he kept in his sleeve, the carved design on the side of them unmistakable. He would never have parted with it unless he'd been forced…

"What proof is this that he's alive?"

"Don't you want him to be?" It was playing it close, and for a moment, Alfrid thought he'd almost blown his chance as Thorin frowned down at the knife, still debating whether he ought to believe him or not.

"What proof is this that he's a live?" Bard asked as he leaned forward, taking part in the conversation again. "It's a knife, no insurance that the boy is still alive and breathing, or that he's still up there at all."

Curse Bard and his unwanted level-headedness! Thinking quickly, there was only one thing Alfrid could do at this point, and it was play on Thorin's will, with a deep breath, he gave it a shot. "But don't you want him to be?"

How was that supposed to help anything? Of course Thorin wanted him alive, what Uncle would he be if he were to answer with the opposite? The problem wasn't him wanting Fili to be alive, it was what was in Fili's best interests, and Thorin was pretty certain that it would be for best were he dead for Azog was no merciful creature, the things the beast must have done… Still, was it worth sacrificing the possibility of his heir still breathing and making it home if he were to simply organize a rescue party?

No, no it's not.

It was selfish, wanting to go up there to rescue his own blood before wanting to go up there to remove the origin of the threat they were all facing, but right then, Thorin couldn't exactly bring himself to care. He'd believed that his nephew was dead for too long, now with the hint of him being potentially alive and him being able to actually do something about it… He wasn't about to stand by and do nothing.

And so he gave in completely.

"When did you last see him?" He cringed at the hint of desperation, at how un-royal he both sounded and felt, but it was a discomfort he was willing to bear. A few minutes where he degraded his image were nothing when compared with the fact that they might just be a means to save a life. His voice was hoarse, eyes still locked on the knife –now tangible proof to him that Fili was indeed alive, had to be- and hand ghosting over it as if it might somehow bring him closer to the latter.

"So you believe me now?" Alfrid almost scoffed (retained himself simply so this would be seen through and he could make sure Thorin was well intent on heading up that mountain, and having a fit might just jeopardize that if he wasn't careful with how he handled his emotions), but none the less relieved that he seemed to have a stroke of good luck. He could deal with his hurt pride later, right now, he just had make sure that Thorin and as many of those dwarves as possible actually attempted a rescue. "Saw him a few days ago, think he was still breathing when I left."

Well, that dampened things immediately. If he was still breathing, Thorin could only imagine that it was the less preferable of the options.

"What did he do to him?" To be fair, he wasn't even sure he wanted to know, but if it meant that he'd be aware of what state they'd find his nephew in, he was willing to hear it.

"Well he gutted him in the die, that much you probably know already." And at Thorin's nod, Alfrid continued on. "After that though… I'll be bluntly honest with you, but he completely broke him."

"Broke him?" Damn his voice for sounding so small, Thorin really wasn't sure he wanted the detail at all. He knew the orc scum would have shown no mercy on his nephew, but to actually go as far as to break him? No, Fili wouldn't break. Ori, he could see collapsing, maybe even Bofur, but not Fili, the heir he'd trained for the past eighty-two years.

"Aye. When I got caught with Mikkel, they brought us up there, tied us up next to your kid. Not long after, the orc came and offered us a deal, work for him and he'd make sure we were well fed, warm and would actually be safe, as in, he wouldn't kill us one day like we were prisoners. Of course, I tried not to but Mikkel, he was really taken in by the idea –desperate to live you see-and what with Mikkel looking like you, long hair, dark bear you name it, your orc pal offered him a deal: break the kid and he'd be sure to be safe."

Thorin brought a hand to his mouth, worrying one of his nails as Alfrid continued on. Mahal knew he wished to be anywhere else right now, not having to hear this.

"Looking back on it, he looked quite like you, like I said, hair, eyes, beard… And with the bottles he'd scampered off with, it wasn't really difficult to make your kid believe it either. So when Mikkel tried to drown your kid, of course he believed it was you doing it."

"That's ridiculous!" Thorin cut in sharply, refusing to believe a word of the sordid tale. "Fili would never ever believe me capable of doing that to him! He knows I care for him!"

Just picturing the whole thing, Thorin felt sick to his stomach –how much further would he have to listen to this man's lies?

"Fell free to believe what you want, he certainly fell for it, hell he completely lost it when he thought you were about to gut him through, sent him into damn hysterics for days." He snapped back, Alfrid's patience now thin with the hot headed dwarf. Stubbornness was one thing, this was something else.

"The point is, the boy's still alive, right?" Bard interrupted, eager to placate the two before they drew knives at each other's throats and not keen to hear more horrors spouting out from the poor man's mouth. By no means was he doing this out of concern for Alfrid, he did not hold the man in any esteem at all, but recognized that he could be a useful fighter, especially since he'd been in the company of orcs –maybe had more information to offer about them, and Thorin offing him now would not help anybody anyway.

Alfrid nodded, looking directly at Thorin as if daring him to disagree. Instead, the dwarf king seemed deep in thought, and when he turned back and made his way back to his kin, Alfrid knew he had him wrapped around his finger.

Thorin's mind was reeling, Fili was still alive, Fili was still alive. They could get him back as soon as dawn broke tomorrow and end this once and for all.

How should he break the news to Kili though? He couldn't outright say that they'd abandoned his brother to be… That would make all of the implications real, that would make the current state of Fili's body real, that would make the fact that they abandoned him up there real, and Thorin still couldn't wrap his mind around it. Kili had told him-

"Thorin?"

"He's alive." Well, so much for not blurting it out. Looking up from the knife in his hand, Thorin looked at their puzzled faces, as if it weren't that obvious to them, and lingered on Kili's for a moment –Kili who was still unsuspecting, who didn't know, who might be better off not knowing- "Fili's still alive."

The way Kili's eyes widened would have been almost comical were it not under these circumstances.

"Laddie-" Balin tried gently, rising up to meet him and hands up in a placating gesture, "We all know-"

"No, he really is alive." He left out the part where he supposedly hurt his sister-son because Thorin knew Fili would never ever believe him capable of sinking that low, that was all Alfrid's superfluous nonsense to try and get him up there out of desperation.

"No."

Thorin's head whipped to his other (no longer only) nephew as Kili reeled back, as if the news had come like a blow to him. "He… He can't be."

The irony of the urge he had to tell him don't you want him to be was rather ironic, instead, Thorin opted not to say anything, let Kili see for himself that his uncle truly believed that his brother wasn't dead.

"But- But I saw! I saw the body Uncle, he was dead!"

"Are you sure? Did you check?" The horrible seed of doubt was still there, and while Thorin would take Kili's word over a man like Alfrid's any day, this wasn't something he could chose to dismiss, not when there was a life they all cared about at stake.

Kili's opened his mouth, the words of course I did! At the tip of his tongue but for some reason, unable to push them past his mouth.

"Kili, did you see?" Thorin's tone was more pressing now and Kili could feel cold sweat trickle down his neck as he pictured himself back there, his brother's body in front of him and panic threatening to overwhelm his whole body. He could still feel the cold, still remember the shock, still recall how his muscles hurt as he ran, and by Mahal were of course I did wishing to come out.

Kili's honor was the only thing holding them back, because a dwarf of Durin's line did not lie, and it was with dawning horror that he realized that he hadn't.

The implication of it all, the knowledge that his brother might have been spared three weeks of… Whatever it was that had been done to him, could have never even happened had he just taken a moment to rationalize and check, that things might have been different f he had, it was all too much.

"I swear Uncle, I didn't mean to! He wasn't moving, I panicked and I thought- Oh Mahal, what have I done?"

With his nephew now pacing up and down, painting aloud every scenario in which he could have done something, Thorin caught him by the arm as he past, knowing that the route he was about to go down was not one that would help them.

"Kili, there was nothing any of us could have done after we descended that mountain, and you know that."

"But I left him! I left him to-" I left him to a fate worse than death.

"And that's done, none of us can change that now. The only thing we can do is get him back, and trust me, we will. Don't beat yourself up about it, it never helps." Mahal knew he'd had to deal with Frerin's death for that lesson to sink in, for Thorin to understand that death is death, one doesn't come back from it, ever, and the only thing for those still alive to do is to learn how to deal with life as it is then. They hadn't lost Fili (yet), but Kili losing himself in guilt and self-loathing over something his panicked-addled brain had not thought to do in the heat of the moment wouldn't be of any help to him, he just had to accept it and move on to a way to get him back.

Looking back up to his uncle, eyes moist and teats threatening to trickle down his cheek at any moment, Kili couldn't understand why the other dwarf wasn't angry or eve upset with him, like he was treating this as something they simply moved on from. Kili knew he had a certain fault in all of this, or at least, felt like he did, shouldn't his actions not garner him a free pass?

"Listen." And a large comforting hand landed on his shoulder, Kili's eyes looking directly into his Uncle's blues (like Frerin's, like Fili's), and there was no trace of anger, resentment or condemnation there –which was both a relief and frustrating at the same time. "We can't change the past, we can't change what was done to him over the past month, we can't change what either of us did at Ravenhill that day, but we can decide to do something for your brother now, we can decide to bring him back, but if we're going to do this together, I need you to be level-headed for it, all right?."

Kili nodded, before Thorin's hand at the back of his head tightened a little and he buried himself in his uncle's shoulder, as if he were a dwarfling seeking comfort after a nightmare. Maybe he was putting on a show, maybe the others were looking at him like a child, but right now, he didn't really care. Thorin's firm chest beneath his face was unwavering and it was strong, something he could rely on, and if his uncle thought they could pull this off, then they would, and he would be there by them when they did so.

"Well, I guess that means an early start for everyone tomorrow morning then." He heard Dwalin's gruff voice say form behind his back, not without a hint of fondness. Turning his head just slightly, Kili realized it wasn't just Dwalin though: the whole Company seemed to have converged towards them, Balin so close he now had a reassuring hand on his shoulder and a new surge of confidence bloomed in his chest.

"I could find us a passage with a little help." Nori offered, one hand on Ori's shoulder as he looked to Thorin. "Give me a weapon to make sure those things don't bight my head off and I can probably scout a way to the mountainside."

"And I can gather whatever bandages, gauze and herbs I have left." Oin offered from beside Bofur, who was already holstering his small axe.

"You-" Thorin's words caught in his throat as he understood, as he saw them all banding together for something they didn't have to, and in that moment, he realized that he truly could not have wished for better companions. "You don't have to-"

"We want to." Dori's strong hand was on his shoulder now, steady, strong and firm, like he actually believed in this, believed in him. "The kid's your family, he's part of this family, of course we'll go after him."

Seeing everyone nod, including little Bilbo hovering at the side of the Company, made Thorin all the more aware of just how deep this friendship they'd created over the past year ran, and made him appreciate what he had right now in front of him so much more than he'd ever thought he would –for these eleven companions truly were worth more than any amount of treasure he could hope to amass inside the walls of Erebor during his lifetime.

"All-All right, I… thank you, I really don't know… Thank you, truly. I could not have wished for better friends."

"Well, as your friend," in said cheerfully, "I think a full night's sleep would be in order for everyone if were actually doing this. No point in you all collapsing before reaching the bottom of the mountain would there?"

The Company laughed at that, and the new levity Thorin felt as he watched them truly was something he realized he'd missed, something he'd never hoped to see again someday, yet here they were, alive and jovial as ever at the prospect of putting their lives on the line for him, fir his family, for-

"We'll make it." Bilbo said quietly from beside him, but with such a conviction that, for a moment at least, Thorin couldn't help but believe him. Maybe, for once, everything would turn out all right for them.

One thing was for certain, he wasn't coming back down that mountain without Fili.

Having long since lost Thorin's attention as he'd gone back to his Company made it all the easier for Alfrid to slip about unnoticed. Bard certainly had no love lost for him and the people of Lake Town, Dale and Esgaroth currently held up in here neither, so slipping out the door after claiming he had a need to relieve himself had been easy. Now if he could just quickly let his half-blind orc protector know that Thorin would indeed be on his way soon and then escape, Alfrid was pretty certain he would like that. It was probably dangerous to stay with those monsters once he was no longer of any use to them, how long would it take for them to turn on him then?

No, it was a much safer bet to run while he still could.