My fellow Irish may find this chapter particularly enjoyable ;)

Brothers

Chapter 11: A Game

Kili swallowed past the swelling in his throat as Dakog advanced.

"Don't let it bite you," the one surviving orc from the patrol said. "It's infected. It's mad."

Kili didn't contradict the orc, for he knew that with his black eye and the blood marring his tunic, along with the multiple new scratches that stung his face from his fall and the burning slice around his neck, he probably looked as mad as he felt. To say nothing for his hair, which would've horrified Fili with its ratted, pine-sap clumped mess.

Dakog sniffed the air in Kili's direction then cocked his head, studying the dark-haired dwarf. Kili clenched his jaw, screaming at his body to stop shaking, but try as he might, his adrenaline-bathed muscles had a will of their own.

Growling, Dakog held his sword out to the other orc. "Then you do it. Cut his bonds. Lash him to me."

The orc's eyes widened but he obediently took the blade from his leader and shuffled towards their captive. Kili narrowed his eyes at the approaching orc, making sure his feet were firmly in place for the moment he was free.

Leaning as far from the dwarf as possible, the orc sawed at the ropes until they gave. The sudden release of pressure nearly made Kili fall, and he utilized the momentum as he roared and tackled the orc to the ground.

The orc screamed like a piglet, dropping the blade and thrashing. Given that Kili didn't have the strength to do much else, he bit the orc's arm as hard as he could. The fiend screamed as if his worst nightmare had come true.

A blow landed on the side of Kili's head, filling his vision with white light as he was thrown off of the orc. Coughing as he landed on the ground, he heard a heavy footstep on either side of his head. Then his hands were being gathered up and bound, and he cried out as the rope was cinched tight around his damaged wrist.

Dakog growled with satisfaction then yanked Kili to his feet. It was all the young dwarf could do to keep his footing as the rider pulled him along to his warg. The orc behind him sniveled and cradled his injured arm.

"Dwarf-scum!" he squeaked, as if his feelings had been hurt.

Kili blinked several times, feeling sick again but fighting off the nausea as Dakog mounted his warg. With another snarl, Dakog tugged on the ropes and forced Kili to take a stumbling step towards him before beginning their descent to the fortress.

"Go tell the others," Dakog growled to his subordinate, and the sniveling creature dashed down the hill ahead of them.

Kili gasped, forcing as much air as he could into his lungs, hoping it would help to chase away the pain and disorientation he felt after being punched in the side of the head. He'd been stumbling behind the warg for some time when his senses settled enough for him to take in what was happening: He was bound and being led into an orc fortress. While a part of him was intimidated, he focused on the voice that chanted that he was going to see his brother.

Grinning, he chuckled as he thought of how warm and wonderful he would feel to see Fili's face again. His laughter drew a suspicious look from Dakog, and he hoped the fiend really thought he was mad.

Kili felt mad. This whole situation was mad. He was going to see his dead brother. A flush spread from the back of his neck over the rest of his body, reminding him that some of his muddied thoughts were probably due to a fever. That would explain why he felt like he was slanted sideways even though he knew he was upright.

The sun was just touching the ridges in the west as it sank. Kili narrowed his dark eyes in its golden rays then looked down to the fortress as orcs scrambled to the entrance, lining either side. Their cries carried to him on the wind in a pulsating roar and Kili stood as straight as he could, for he knew he was about to enter a storm.

Fili strained his eyes as he watched the orcs scurry towards the fortress entrance after receiving a gasped message from yet another wounded orc. Yet try as he might, Fili couldn't get an angle to see what they were looking at.

"What's happening?" he shouted, yet if any nearby spoke Common Tongue, they ignored him.

When the stomping began, however, Fili knew his suspicions were right: the orcs were forming another gauntlet, which meant they had a prisoner.

Fili's stomach felt like jelly as he dared not even contemplate who it might be. His face was pressed so hard against the stone that it hurt as he tried to spy out.

The chanting grew louder as the warg rider and Kili approached. The sound was doing its job well, for Kili felt fear chilling his belly as they neared.

Don't be frightened, he told himself. You're mad, remember? Mad dwarves don't get frightened.

Throwing his head back, Kili took a deep breath and did the most defiant thing he could think of in the face of such brute strength: he sang.

"In the merry month of May
From my home I started,
Left the girls of Ered Luin
Nearly broken hearted."

Kili belted out the lyrics, drowning out the chanting orcs even if only in his own ears.

"Saluted my father dear
Kissed my darlin' mother,
Drank a pint of ale
My grief and tears to smother."

Fili held his breath, his hearing straining to discern the voice singing amid the din of his captors.

Kili smoothed his gait as he sang, trying to look as cheery as possible.

"Then off to reap the corn
And leave where I was born,
I cut a stout blackthorn
To banish troll and goblin,
In a brand new pair of brogues
I rattled o'er the bogs,
And frightened all the wargs,
On the rocky road to Erebor."

They were entering the gauntlet, and though the sight of so many yellowed eyes nearly made Kili's voice falter, he merely sang all the louder, adding a skip to his step for the most lively portion of the song, even as he was pelted with rocks and sticks.

"One, two, three, four five,
Hunt the orc and turn him
Down the rocky road
And all the ways to Erebor,
Whack-fol-lol-de-ra!"

Fili grinned at the voice that was cracking from straining so loud, for he'd know that squeak anywhere, no matter how impossible it seemed.

"Kili!" he cried, though he could hardly hear himself above the din. "Kili!"

Then suddenly, Dakog was in view, stalking into the middle of the fortress with a rope in his hand. Shaking with anticipation, Fili craned his neck, trying to see behind the warg. Dakog gave the rope a yank and a filthy, blue-cloaked figure stumbled into view.

Fili yelped and covered his mouth. There before him, battered and bloodied, but alive, was his darling little brother.

Kili had his eyes closed as he continued to belt out the song until a swift kick from Dakog sent him to his knees and silenced his singing.

"Kili!" Fili shouted, but his brother didn't react, and within moments, the orcs had returned to the fortress, swarming in around their new captive and blocking Fili's view. "No! Move!" He growled when the sight of his brother was completely hidden behind grey bodies.

Kili stayed where he had landed on his knees, because his senses had been overcome by the bloodnoise in his ears and the burning of his throat as he struggled to breathe. He watched through a curtain of hair as a rusty spike was driven into the ground beside him and the rope binding his wrists was lashed to the metal.

Why not, he thought. I don't much feel like moving anyway.

His straining heart slowed, lessening the thunder in his ears, and Kili scooted until his back was to the spike, thankful to have something to help support his weight.

He was starting to feel sick again, and had to keep reminding himself of where he was. Then a voice broke through the foul chatter around him and he looked up, for he could've sworn he'd heard his brother.

Fili.

That's right. He was a brother and he was here for the other half of his soul.

Wake up, he scolded himself. This is no dream!

Closing his eyes, Kili took several deep breaths, centering himself. His body was throwing far too many pain signals at him but he acknowledged each one, taking stock of his withering condition. As far as he could tell, he was no longer bleeding, for which he was thankful for he was lightheaded enough already.

Letting out a shaky breath, he kept his eyes shut as he trained his senses outwards. Feet were shuffling all around him and the air smelled like sour leather and bird droppings. Orcs. Everywhere. And the panting of the warg.

A finger poked his shoulder in a childish, frightened sort of way, and Kili let his body sway from the poke. A few heartbeats passed before there was a poke from another curious orc, then another. He could hear them shuffling in closer, losing their fear of the mad dwarf.

Kili waited until he could feel the tips of their boots touching his bent calves before taking a deep breath. His eyes snapped open as he lunged and barked, biting at whatever he could. The orcs tripped over each other and screamed, actually screamed, as they fought to get out of his rabid range.

When Kili saw the mess he'd caused, he couldn't help but laugh.

Dakog glowered at him from his dais off to the side. As the orcs shuffled away, returning to their posts as the sun set, Kili heard his name coming from before him.

Silencing himself, Kili scanned the rocks, looking for his brother, but all he could see was rubble.

"Kili," the tear-laden voice called again, and this time Kili could see fingers sticking out of a crack between two large stones.

Kili grinned, laughter tainting his voice. "Fili!"

"Yes," Fili gasped. "By Durin, I don't believe my eyes."

Kili raised his brows, wishing he could see more of his brother. "Fili… I thought… but…"

"What're you doing here?" Fili asked, his voice steadier, and this time Kili thought he could see some of his blonde hair peeking out of the crack.

"What am I doing here?" Kili repeated, grinning hugely. "I came to rescue you, of course!"

A moment of silence reigned between the two before Fili broke into a low chuckle that, once joined by Kili's, turned into a torrent of laughter.

The orcs lingering near the two exchanged nervous glances at the absurdity of the dwarves' behavior.

Thorin sneered, cleaning his blackened war hammer off on the grass, surveying the orc bodies scattered around him. They had started to tail him as soon as the ruins were in sight, and it didn't take long for the exiled king to set a trap for them by pretending to check his pony's hoof for a stone.

Six now lay dead, their black blood glistening in the light of the setting sun. Scanning the plains around him, Thorin hunted for any sign of his nephew. Knowing that the lad was never fond of the plains, he mounted Zharr and made for a grove of pines on a hill in the distance. It seemed he'd been wrong and the young dwarf had been bent on revenge, after all. Why else would he come so close to such a place?

Hoping that a patrol hadn't managed to sneak up on his nephew, Thorin galloped to the trees. His eyes danced over the orange pine needles on the ground and pierced the shifting shadows of the boughs, settling upon the body of a dead orc.

Frowning, Thorin dismounted and readied his hammer as he approached. The foul creature lay contorted on the ground, large bite marks on its torso.

"Wargs," Thorin snarled. The knowledge that such creatures had been close, and fairly recently, by the looks of the kill, made the hair on his arms stand on end.

A mess of rope lay at the base of a tree, and beside it was something that made the bottom drop out of his stomach. Dashing over, Thorin picked up Kili's quiver, still laden with arrows. But what disturbed him more than the knowledge that his nephew had been stripped of his weapons, was the fact that the chest strap of the quiver was marked with blood.

"Why?" Thorin whispered. First Fili, and now Kili. He closed his eyes, afraid to look around more, not wanting to see the lad's disemboweled corpse. "Why?" he repeated, his voice faltering as his throat tightened in a spasm. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

Laughter drifted up to him from the orc stronghold, and Thorin growled as he stalked over to the edge of the trees. The wind picked up, tossing his hair back, and he sneered at the fortress. Murderers. Filth. Blemishes on the earth.

"I will wipe out every last one of your kind," he growled into the wind. "Mark my words."

Zharr jingled his bridle and Thorin took a step to tend to the pony when the laughter echoed again. This time, he froze. That was no orc laugh. Thorin went rigid. It had sounded like… like Kili. And while he couldn't be sure, he had thought the familiar laugh was mingled with someone else's.

Kili was alive.

Facing the fortress again, Thorin took a moment to breathe deep in the scent of pine, relief coursing through his veins. His nephew was down there, and when he thought of the lad alone and defenseless against such vile beings, his relief was swiftly replaced with battle lust as a war drum beat in his breast.

The orcs would rue the day they touched his kin.

While Fili would freely admit that the sight of his brother had moved him to tears, his eyes were now watering because he refused to blink. He was terrified that if he let Kili out of his sight, he'd be taken from him again.

Yet even as his heart thudded with joy so intense that he felt weightless and rejuvenated, he couldn't help but temper his happiness with worry. Kili was alive, yes, but he'd never looked so terrible before. His shoulders were slumped and his head bowed as he rested, sagging against the spike. And even from his vantage yards away, Fili could see that blood was staining his little brother's tunic in more than one place.

"Kili?"

Kili lifted his head and blinked several times before enough clarity returned to his gaze to smile at him. Fili reached his fingers out of the cell, even though he knew he couldn't reach Kili.

"Stay with me."

Kili nodded, shaking himself into wakefulness, though Fili could see it was a losing battle. What in Durin's name had they done to his brother?

The dark-haired dwarf's head was hanging again and Fili withdrew his hand, holding his breath.

Kili slumped face first onto the ground, and the sight of him so limp and lifeless made Fili slam his chest against the rock in front of him.

"Kili!" Growling, he shoved at the stones to no avail then cried out in frustration.

A low, deep chuckle rumbled and Fili ceased his struggling. Dakog strutted into view, toying with a war club.

"I have good news," the orc nearly purred, his green eyes glistening as his subordinates lit torches as the light failed. "Your uncle is above us, hidden in a pine grove. Or so he thinks."

Fili sank down onto his knees, resting his temple against the stone wall. His joy was now beaten and bleeding in the shadows. All had been for naught. Kili's survival of the attack didn't change anything., no matter how much it meant to him.

Dakog leaned down to squat in front of the gap, relishing the dwarf's reaction after so much stoicism.

"I find these… attachments your kind form with your littermates and kin to be… most fruitful," Dakog rumbled.

Fili opened his eyes to glare at the warg rider. "You know nothing of love."

"I know enough to recognize it. It is a very useful weapon."

Fili looked away, glowering instead at the wall opposite him, cursing himself for having reacted to Kili's presence at all. He should've pretended they were strangers. When Dakog next spoke, Fili focused all of his thoughts on the words. He no longer had the luxury to dwell on what might have been.

"The Master is a ways off yet," Dakog continued. "And the dwarf-scum on the hilltop gives us a new option."

"And what, pray tell, would that be?" Fili asked, looking back into the orc's gaze. He'd been impressed all along by Dakog's ability to reason, to the point of wondering if he was half human, but now Fili was wishing that the orc's mind wasn't so sharp.

"A game," Dakog said, baring his pointed teeth.

Dakog rose and nodded to a subordinate, who, with the help of several others, shoved aside the rock that served as the door to Fili's cell.

Fili stiffened, his heart suddenly hammering as the world widened and he could see every corner of the fortress and a few glimpses of the plains in the gloaming. "What're you doing?" he asked, hating the way his voice quivered.

Dakog stepped in front of him. Fili had never been next to the fiend off of his warg before, and now that he was before him, Fili realized just how large the orc was. Shakily climbing to his feet, Fili met the green gaze, resisting the urge to run to his brother's side.

"Here are the rules," Dakog snarled. "You may leave to warn the would-be-Oakenshield…" Dakog stepped aside to give the fair-haired dwarf the room to do so, then pointed to Kili. "Or you may lick the whelp's wounds."

Fili clenched his jaw, his wide eyes scanning the pines in the distance for any sign of his uncle before looking down at his little brother. Kili was breathing steadily, but it was obvious that he needed healing assistance… assistance that Fili didn't have. If he left, he and Thorin could rescue Kili, whereas if he stayed… Thorin would have no idea an entire orc horde, soon to be joined by their "Master," was waiting for him.

Dakog grinned at the conflict on Fili's face as he looked from the hillside to his brother then back again.

"How do I know you won't kill me?" Fili asked.

"If you run, we will wait before we hunt you. My men want sport, after all. And we only need one heir to lure the boar."

Fili licked his lips, his brows coming together as he studied the ground, taking in the booted footprints the orcs had left behind, wracking his brain for an answer that made sense.

Sighing, Dakog shifted his weight. "On three. One…"

Fili took a deep breath, looking up at the hills. Kili was his brother. He couldn't abandon him.

"Two…"

But Thorin was his uncle, and he couldn't abandon him, either. And he is your king.

Fili squeezed his eyes shut.

"Three."

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