Merry Christmas! Here's my gift to you today!:)

Even if you don't celebrate Christmas, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Happy Holidays!


Kíli could hardly process what had just happened.

Thorin had ordered him to stay. He was to remain in Laketown until he healed.

It was then that he realized that he would not be saved by Gandalf after all.

But Thorin didn't know that Kíli wouldn't be healed. His Uncle didn't know that he had just said goodbye to his nephew for the last time.

And Kíli didn't have the heart to tell him.

Kíli couldn't find it in himself to say goodbye. Not now. Even as he turned away, he knew it would be the last time he would ever see the Company. It would be the last time he would see Thorin.

The last time he would see Fíli.

His soul crumbled as he understood. The pain of the poison was nothing compared to this.

He didn't notice the townspeople staring at him, whispering amongst one another of his ill countenance. His feet were heavy as he walked. He didn't know where to go. He supposed it didn't matter if he didn't have his brother by his side.

At least Fíli wouldn't be there to witness Kíli's suffering and eventual death. He let that small inkling of hope enter his mind.

But, Kíli thought, he really didn't want to die. He had so much to look forward to. So much to live for. How would he ever have the chance to meet Tauriel again if he were dead? How would he rule side by side with Fíli as a prince under the Mountain? How would he keep his promise to Mother?

No. He didn't want to die.

It scared him, the thought of passing into the next realm. He had heard stories of the promised beauty and happiness that the Halls of Mandos would bring. But he knew he would never be truly happy if Fíli weren't with him.

Kíli was buried deep in his despair, when suddenly Óin appeared before him. He grabbed hold of Kíli's arms and guided him onto a wooden crate. The apothecary took the young Dwarf's chin in his hand and began studying him, murmuring of fevers and remedies.

Kíli defiantly shook his head from the old Dwarf's grasp. He didn't need help. He just needed his brother.

But he quickly lost energy to fight off the examination. He stared down at the wooden deck as he was looked over. His world tilted as he stared. The colors of the wood greyed as his vision blurred. That wasn't a good sign. His thoughts quickly became muddled, and all coherency left him.

He didn't even notice when Fíli sat down next to him.

"Kíli?" Fíli asked, placing a steadying hand on his brother's back. "Kíli. It's okay. I'm staying here, with you. We'll get you better."

Kíli didn't answer. He couldn't. Pain pulsed through his veins, pounding through his limbs. It tore at his heart. Darkness entered his mind.

Hurried footsteps bounded down the boardwalk. Bofur burst through the crowd, shouting for the Company. But they were already gone.

Bofur's face fell in disappointment, but his smile reappeared when he saw Óin, Fíli and Kíli remained. At least he wasn't alone!

"Ah! Did you miss the boat as well?"

But his joy was short lived when Kíli fell forward.

"Kíli!" Fíli's eyes widened as he held his brother up. "Kíli!"

The Dwarfling groaned in pain. His eyes were half-lidded, and his breaths came out in short gasps.

This wasn't right, Fíli thought, panic sinking in. Kíli was supposed to be getting better.

"Kíli?" He knelt down before his brother, never letting go of his wavering form. "Kíli, look at me. You need to tell me what's wrong." His took his face in one hand.

His heart plummeted.

Blood stained Kíli's lips.

No.

"No. No no, Kíli." Fíli shook his head. "Someone! Please! We need help!" He called out. The townspeople stood, eyes wide as they took in the scene. "Please! We need medicine! Something! My brother, he—he's dying!"

His eyes darted rapidly, desperately seeking help. But the people in the crowd slowly wandered off, as if they had seen nothing. They did not want to be held accountable for the young Dwarf's fate.

In a matter of minutes, the four Dwarves were left alone on the dock.

Tears of rage sprang to Fíli's eyes. How dare these people, who were promised wealth from his kingdom, resist helping them.

But he couldn't find time in his heart to be angry. Not when his little brother was suffering. He brought Kíli close, holding him against his chest.

He felt Kíli's harsh breath against his skin.

"We need to do something." His eyes grew red at the brimming tears.

Both Óin and Bofur looked momentarily at a loss for words. Nothing could have prepared them for this.

"…We could take him to Bard's?" Bofur offered, his finger rose in inspiration.

Fíli nodded firmly, lifting Kíli in his arms and standing tall.

"Do you need help, laddie?" Óin stepped forward.

Fíli shook his head. "I will carry him."


Bard sighed as the door knocked. He was quickly growing tired of visitors. Lately they only brought him unwarranted trouble. Worry cluttered his mind with the knowledge of the Dwarves setting out to reclaim Erebor. He still stood by his belief that, if they succeeded in opening that door, they would only bring destruction upon Laketown.

That Dragon was not to be fooled with.

"I'll get it, Da!" Tilda rushed to the door.

"No, thank you love." He smiled at his overeager daughter. "I'll get it."

His frowned deepened at the Dwarves who stood on the other side.

"No. I'm done with Dwarves. Go away—"

"No, no, no! Please," the one with the floppy hat, Bofur, interjected, stopping the door. "No one will help us. Kíli's sick." He stepped aside, revealing the young, raven-haired Dwarfling leaning against his elder brother. He was on the verge of unconsciousness. "He's very sick."

Compassion surged through him as he stood under the lintel. These Dwarves must have been left behind to tend their injured companion.

Bard wasn't one to ignore those in need.

"Bring him in." He stepped aside as the Dwarves stumbled into the house.

"Bain!" He called for his son. "Come quickly!" He turned to his daughters, who stood wide-eyed. "Fetch some water and blankets. And medicine if we have any."

His gaze fell on his visitors. "Lay him here." He motioned to a nearby bed. The golden-haired Dwarf nodded in gratitude. He laid his ailing brother on the bed, and gently removed the armor. Bard and the two elder Dwarves moved to help. Kíli shuddered as the armor pulled on his tender muscles.

Feet trampled down the stairs, and a young teenage boy came into view over the banister. "Da? What's wrong?

"I need you to run for supplies. One of our guests is ill." Bain paled at the sight of Kíli struggling for breath.

"I can tell you what we'll need." Óin beckoned for the boy to come forward, giving him a list of the necessary supplies in detail.

Bain nodded and dashed out the door.

"We need to take a look at the wound." Óin spoke in hushed tones to Fíli. The blonde nodded as he stood aside to let the professional do his work. He unwrapped the binding with skilled hands. Kíli gritted his teeth when it came away from his skin.

"What in Durin's name…" Óin gasped. His leg was weeping with black blood, the flesh around the wound taking on a grisly tint.

Bard moved closer, brow furrowing. "What happened to him?"

"He was shot in the leg with an Orcish arrow." Bofur spoke. "I think it's become infected."

Bard nodded, and pressed gentle fingers against the wound.

Kíli cried out at the touch.

He pulled his hand away. "This is no simple Orc wound. Nor is it an infection." Bard shook his head as he sighed. His eyes fell on Fíli's worried gaze. "He's been poisoned."

Fíli's blue eyes widened in horror, and he stepped back as if the words had physically hurt him. "No." He breathed. "No. It can't be. I… I looked at it. I treated it. He was fine—"

"He was hiding it from you." Bard suggested carefully.

"No." He shook his head in denial. "No. He would've told me."

Their troubling revelation was interrupted by harsh coughing. Every head turned to the figure on the bed.

They watched in terror as blood came spurting from Kíli's mouth.


Ahh I'm sorry. But not really. Hahaha.

Let me know what you think! :)