Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot, Róskva, Ari and any other original characters.

Thank you so much to all those who have reviewed, and those who are still reading this. Once again, so sorry for the wait!


Chapter 12: Faces from the Past

The last few days had been peaceful, as peaceful as they could have been since the last attack. Fili had wondered if many other rulers had this frequent assassination attempts. He didn't know the answer to that, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to. The attacks had made him more cautious, not for himself, but for his kin. He didn't doubt that sooner or later someone would think to get to him by harming his friends. A part of him had wondered if he should distance himself from others, from the company, from Róskva and Ari. The thought pained him, but if it came to it, he would.

He wasn't the only one who was concerned, his Lady mother was as well, obviously. For himself, however, not his kin. She was sitting across from him now, breathing deeply. He had been arguing with her again, and by the way she had folded her arms like Uncle used to, he guessed that she had reached the end of his tether.

"Fili, I know you trust this Róskva, but I do not think her protection is enough. The incident at the river proved that."

He recoiled, "She succeeded in her duty's, she saved my life."

"Yes, but only after a band of orcs approached, attacked and dragged you into the river," she paused for a moment, her blue eyes looking away for a moment, "why did neither of you notice them approaching?"

He felt himself flush slightly, and he wasn't sure why. It wasn't as if they had been doing anything... "We were training."

His mother raised an incredulous eyebrow, training?"

Oh, Mahal, I made it worse. He thought it best to clarify, "Róskva has been teaching me to fight in my chair and on horseback. She is a skilled warrior. The river proved that."

His mother stared at him for a moment, as Uncle used to, observing and calculating. "You have been training to fight?"

He nodded, "I… when Frár attacked, I felt so vulnerable, so helpless. I have only felt like that once before… when it happened. I never want to feel like that again."

After a moment, his mother nodded, accepting what he had said. "I am still worried. I… people are talking."

He frowned, "about?" They could be talking about anything, his legs, his deceased kin, the fact that he was the only one of his line with blonde hair, besides his father- Though many didn't know that. The possibilities were without limit. As they had always been.

She sighed, "No one has seen you cry, or show much, well, emotion. They are beginning to call you things, Fili. They don't know you as your kin does, and they don't know what to think."

He shook his head, "let them talk. They do not understand, is all."

"No, they do not," she paused, "but Fili, know this. I do not wish you to think I am siding with them, but I do not want you to stop yourself from feeling your own grief. You need to Fili; it is the only way to... to let go of it. To let go of them." There were tears in her eyes now as she shuddered, "you do not have to forget them, nor do I expect you to simply 'get over it.' They were our family, and I feel their losses as you do, and I know we can get through this together… like last time."

Like last time. When Father was killed. He had done the same when he had passed, 'not let himself feel' as his mother put it. He supposed that last time he did get through it. Because last time I had Kili.


He had given some thought to what his mother had said in the last day or so. He had to let go, but he did not want to. It felt wrong, to do so. He didn't understand how others did it so readily as if their deaths were so easily forgotten and dealt with. He felt disgusted by the idea of it- and angry. He also felt anger towards those who thought he felt nothing either. He felt so much, too much. He felt as if he was going to burst with all the confusion, anger and sadness fighting within him. He didn't want to let it out for fear of what might happen if people saw what he was made of now.

Sadness and fear.

The fear was sometimes worse. It crippled him, beyond the physical. It made him think that there was always something lurking around the corner, even when he knew it was impossible. A flicker of a torch in a dark hallway could spark it, or the reminder of his inability to run if necessary. Worse was the fear, the anticipation, that he would see them. He knew it was impossible, and he must have been mistaken all those times, but he still saw them, even if it was only a flicker. His mind knew it couldn't be real, but his eyes said otherwise. He wasn't sure what to believe.

He as afraid, and there was only one person he felt he could trust not to judge him or make panicked assumptions right away. The only one, other than Ari and his mother, who would talk to him as Fili, the dwarf from the Blue Mountains, not Fili, The King Under the Mountain.

So, he found himself outside Róskva's door, without a guard, possibly foolishly. He would have asked Dwalin, or maybe his mother, but he didn't wish to raise suspicions.

Hesitantly, he raised his closed hand to the door and knocked. Not long after, the door was pulled open by a slightly weary-looking Róskva, a hand on the hilt of her mace. Her eyes filled with realisation a second later, and she dropped her hand and defensive posture, "Oh, Fili. I wasn't expecting you. Is everything all right?"

He shook his head, deciding it was better, to be honest, "I need to talk to you about something."

She nodded, moving out of the doorway.

He hesitated, for a moment, unsure if it was proper for him to enter her chambers like this? He shook the thought away; they were friends. He moved his chair forward, into the room, Róskva following behind.

Her rooms were similar in shape and design as his, only less. There were no lush blue fabrics or dark furs. Only basic fabrics and worn furs. Though, it was homely. The hearth was alight, and the room filled with belongings. However few they were. The was a weapons rack by the door, with short swords, axes and maces alike. The desk held an assortment of books, and papers, all well looked after. The bookshelf held more. A bookworm. He smiled, imagining what would happen if she met Bilbo, or Ori at that.

Róskva took a seat at her table, pulling a chair away for his own. She waited for him to settle before speaking. "What is it you wish to discuss?"

How do I say this? He hadn't really thought that far ahead. "I do not completely know how to explain it, for I don't quite believe it."

She nodded, "whatever it is, I will listen."

He believed her; trusted her not to turn away in fear of him, "I… I see things. Things that shouldn't be there."

She didn't react for a moment, only looked at him, thinking. "You are seeing Thorin and Kili, aren't you?"

There was no point denying it. He nodded, "I am."

She nodded, "Is that what- who you are looking at when you-"

"Yes, and I know they couldn't possibly be real. I'm not mad- but I still see them, and I wonder if I am," he stopped, taking in a deep breath.

Róskva shook her head, "you are not mad, Fili. I'm sure there is an explanation."

He hoped so but did not say anything.

"Perhaps we should go to the library; there may be something about it there. Maybe someone- "

"The library is an idea, but please, I don't want anybody else to know yet. Not unless I can find a way to stop it, or at least its cause." He had briefly thought the gold sickness was to blame; it was known to cause hallucinations, he had seen it in his uncle. Yet, he felt nothing for gold, nothing at all. He had ruled it out as a possibility.

So, to the library, they went.


Getting to the library seem to pose more difficulties than originally anticipated, well, for Fili anyway. It would seem that the library was not included when plans for wheel-chair acceptable pathways were made. He sighed, looking at the long, steep stairway. There were obviously intervals of flat ground, every ten steps or so, but there were five of those intervals.

"I could… I could carry you."

He froze, shocked. She would offer to do such a thing? He wasn't quite sure how to react, so he simply nodded.

She smiled, "right then." With that, she bent down, slipped her arms underneath him and swept him up into her arms like he weighed no more than a child. Maybe he didn't; he hadn't been eating well as of late.

He stared up at her, arms around her so he might relieve some of his dead-weight. He felt shocked, anyone else he would have felt embarrassed, childlike even. But now, he felt pride? He was impressed, in awe, not in her strength- all dwarves are strong, but in her loyalty. A warm feeling filled his chest, maybe even his heart. He smiled, "thank you."

She smiled back, "to the library?"

He nodded, "of course."

She nodded and began there accent up the stairs, and all the while his eyes did not leave hers. Eventually, they made it to the top, and they were posed with a new issue: his chair. Róskva looked at him where he sat on a chair. "I could carry it up as well, but I would have to leave you alone."

"I can defend myself if necessary."

Róskva didn't look so sure, but before she could argue her eyes looked beyond him, in relief. "Master Ori, would you mind guarding your King for a jiffy?"

Ori, quill and book in hand as was usual, nodded. "Of course."

And so, Fili was left as Róskva went to go and retrieve his chair. He turned to the scribe, "hello, Ori," he said, with none of the normal mischief that sentence used to hold when he said it. That was when I was not a King, and Kili were alive.

Ori seemed to notice, judging by the suspicious frown on his face, which was quickly masked. "Hello, my King."

He shook his head, "Ori, we have known each other since we were dwarfing's. You can call me by my name."

The scribe considered this for a moment, before smiling ever so slightly. "Okay, Fili. What can I help you with?"

He felt a stab of caution. He didn't want to raise suspicion in the scribe, but he knew he could trust him. He felt ashamed for thinking otherwise. Though… he was Nori's brother. He sighed, putting caution to the wind anyway. "Do you know of any books that speak of illusions, hallucinations. That sort of thing."

Ori raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond Róskva returned, chair in hand. She set it down carefully, gesturing to it. He shook his head, "thank you." He turned back to Ori, wondering.

"I… I think I might have something."


It was true that Ori did have some books on hallucinations and such. But they weren't making much progress in determining what exactly was the cause of her friend's hallucinations, if that is what they were, after all. Always good to keep an open mind. Although she did think it was possible that what he saw was real, she did believe that he was seeing something.

The books she had been going over spoke of dwarves who often saw things from a young age that weren't there, particularly after a terrible event, and that it often drove them mad. That wasn't particularly helpful. Though, she supposed, it made some sense. However, it said that these 'delusions' were often present before an event, and only worsened by them. She did not know if Fili had always seen things, but she doubted it.

All in all, the books were particularly vague.

She told Fili as such, much to his disappointment, for it would seem had found nothing either.

She wondered though. Maybe they were looking for an explanation in the wrong way. She sighed, only time would tell.

Having failed in finding an explanation to his situation, Fili returned to his duties wearily. He did not know who he might see in court. He had begun to double his already doubled dosage of the potion Glorfindel had given him, hoping for some relief. He wasn't sure if it did.

More dwarves had arrived from the Blue Mountains, the ones who had lingered in fear that the mountain would fall again, in its weakened state. They were here now, seeking the company of those who had already left them for the Mountain, he assumed. As King, he was responsible for providing a guided tour of the mountain, for those who did not, or could not remember it. A part of him wished he could ride Felaróf for these tours. It would mean less staring, or at least less judgmental staring. Róskva was with him; hair braided neatly with his beads. He smiled when he saw her absentmindedly ran her fingers through her hair.

They rounded a sharp corner to a cross-path, approaching the chambers, the ones nearest the kitchens. "These halls were among the first to be prepared, and you will find them furnished for your comfort," he told, repeating the words he had spoken so many times the last few weeks. His followers talked amongst themselves, expressing their opinions. He stalled, slowing his chair so he didn't rush them.

A moment later, he felt himself slow to a stop, his ears beginning to prick with noise. Sounds, voices footsteps; not just from behind, but from all sides. Other groups were approaching it would seem. He felt his chest tighten slightly, the sensation of being surrounded itching in the back of his mind. He could hear Róskva's voice, though he could not hear her words. Instead, his eyes caught the light of the torches lining the halls, flickering. Threating. His breath caught in his throat, and he tried to back himself up, only he backed into the dwarves behind him. Trapped.

Then suddenly he felt he was there again. Ravenhill. In every way except physically. Everything seemed to grow cloudy, except somehow, what was right in front of him.

Thorin and Kili.

Standing amongst the stone, torches, and noise. Eyes staring, concerned and disbelieving.

He froze, unable to move anything except his eyes, like that day on Ravenhill. He clenched his eyes, determined to be rid of the illusion. You cannot be here… You are not real. He drew another deep breath, the voices and sounds around him muted. I am not there. I am in Erebor, and I am safe. He opened his eyes.

They were right before him, close, and still he could not move.

They were as clear as they had been when alive, no longer faded or fuzzy, a flicker of a face in the crowd. Their mouths were moving, speaking. But like the others, their voices were muted. He shook his head, denying. Slowly, Kili took a step forward, arm outstretched, almost tentatively. Ever so lightly, the illusion touched his shoulder.

He shivered.


Fili wasn't responding to anything, not her voice or anyone else. Róskva had known as soon as his breath had ceased up that something was wrong, which was only confirmed when his eyes fixed on some point ahead of him. At something she, or anyone else, could not see.

He eventually closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them again. As if he was trying to convince himself of whatever he was seeing.

Suddenly, he reeled backwards in his chair, throwing it and him back. She let out an involuntary gasp, jumping out of the way as the other dwarves did. A moment later he began pointing, shouting. Names. Their names. It was a mess of shouting and noise. The dwarves on the tour began shouting too, unsure of what was happening, and what to do.

"He's lost it," one said.

"Just like his uncle and those before him," another muttered.

She felt herself growing angry at the judgment, which only increased as they began to circle around the trembling King. She growled, kneeling at Fili's side ", can't you see you are making it worse, go and find help. Oin, Dwalin, Lady Dis, anyone. Go, quick!"

Soon the crowd dispersed, murmuring, hopefully, to return with the help she had demanded. She looked back to Fili, on his back, propped up by his arms, eyes still glazed as he breathed heavily. She thought about what she should do; she didn't want to startle him further by making contact. She decided it was best to try and continue talking. "Fili?" Nothing. She swallowed, "Fili, can you hear me? Please. Let me know if you can hear me."

He didn't respond for one terrifying moment, but then he blinked, his eyes re-focussing. He turned to her, chest still heaving. "I… can see them. Róskva, I can see them. Why can I see them?"

His voice was so small, so frightened. It broke her. And so, ever so carefully, she pulled him into her arms, burying her face in his hair. "I don't know Fili; I don't know. But I promise we will figure it out. I promise."

They stayed like that for a while. Just holding each other. But soon urgent footsteps approached. Three different strides, for three different dwarves. The Lady Dis, the healer Oin, and the warrior, Dwalin.

Fili was still muttering that he could see them, repeatedly, even though he was turned away from the place he had been staring, hidden in her embrace.

The Lady Dis looked around, confused and bewildered, before realising what had most likely happened. She fell to her knees next to them, "Oh, Fili," she said, taking Fili from her arms and into

She swallowed, "I think… I think he was remembering the place where he was captured. He sort of lost focus and began staring off into nowhere, barely breathing. He said he could see them."

Dis looked down at her Son, who had his eyes clenched shut again, "did he specify who he could see?"

Róskva looked down, suddenly wondering Is she should have spoken to Dis earlier. Maybe this could have been avoided. "I… he spoke to me earlier that he had seen them. Only flickers, never anything like this," she paused, "Thorin and Kili." At the words, she saw Dis give a small shudder, though not in disgust, but rather in shock.

Dwalin looked at her, drawing his gaze away from Fili "You knew of this?"

She bowed her hair, "I- "she stopped. She didn't have the right to justify herself, for it would mean that she was denying her responsibility, "yes, I did. I learned of it two days past."

They said no more and instead turned their attention towards Fili. Oin began to look over him, listening to his breathing, checking his eyes. Fili, though responsive, seemed to dead to the world, eyes looking else wear.

"We best take him back to his room," advised the healer. Dwalin and The Lady Dis nodded in agreement.

She herself rose to her feet, "If I may, can I accompany you back to ensure his safe return?"

Dwalin was already lifting Fili up, Dis following his example, except with the chair. Oin turned to her,"'Lass, I think its best if ya go on your way, it ain't proper for you to be spending so much time with him."

She felt a stab in her heart. She knew that people would argue it was because they were not formally courting, but the real reason would always lie with her birth circumstances. She felt herself grow a little empty in feeling, watching as the four disappeared to Fili's quarters. She was alone.

But she would not leave Fili in his hour of need.


They waited outside Fili's room, for Oin to return to give a report of her son, and in Dwalin's case, friend. There was an eery silence, filled with dread and fear. What has happened to my son? Fili had never reacted well to grief; when he was a dwarfling and his father had passed he had been much the same as he was now. Only, it never escalated to hallucinations and illusions. If it continued, or they could find no cure, they might have to consider options in terms of leadership. Dis did not want that to happen- she would not let that happen. Her son would be a great King, but first, they had to get past this.

Oin soon came shuffling back out the doors of Fili's chambers, an assortment of things in his hands came to a stop before them, "he is resting now. I searched his room, as you asked, and I found these." He presented the items to them: some papers and a bottle. The potion bottle; it was empty.

She took the papers, curious. "What are these?"

"They are letters. He wrote them to get his thoughts out of his mind," a new voice said.

All eyes turned to its owner, and Dis was met with the sight of Róskva, despite having been told not to follow, and with her was no less the Ari. The girl was chewing her fingernails, holding the dwarrodam hand. No doubt the girl had no one else to watch over her at the present time, as she herself had to leave her to attend to her son. "Do you know what they contain?"

Róskva shook her head, "I do not."

Dwalin shuffled closer, peering over her shoulders, "we better have a look then."

Agreeing, she began to read over them. They were not dated, so they had to determine the time of the events based on their own knowledge of the events. Some she knew of, some she did not. 'It has been years since I last wrote my thoughts on paper, not since my father was killed in battle.' 'I am not alone, I have family still, but I feel alone.' He had written about his injury as well; it would seem. 'I can sense their uncertainty around the topic; they act as though it is not there. Like avoiding looking at a scar on someone's face, you know it is there, yet you know you must not stare.' She had noticed people doing that, and even had to catch her self once or twice.

'For the dreams and nerve damage, he gave me a potion, one drop a night; I have not tried it yet, but I suspect I will when I am done writing this. The nightmares are growing strong now.' She sighed at that, so that is where it began; perhaps his overdosing was linked to his troubles.

He wrote of Róskva often, very often at that. 'Róskva is dutiful. She has been at my side since I first started being able to stay awake for a whole day. I respect her for that, and maybe I feel something else, but I can't be sure.' It was during his first ride with Róskva that he first started seeing them, if his recordings were accurate.

'A dwarf attacked me this night. I was saved, by some unseen force. I can't help but connect it to the other things I have been seeing. I know I shouldn't. They're dead.'

'Róskva pulled me from the river today; she saved my life. Though, I would have thought it impossible had I not lived it. I was sinking, a dead weight, yet she pulled me up like I weighed nothing. The tingling still hasn't stopped; I have doubled my dosage, again.'

'Róskva and I searched fur a reason for my hallucinations. I know they cannot be real, but that does not seem to stop me from seeing them…'

That was enough for her, the story seemed clear, yet so much was still unknown. The reasons, causes, and solutions were all hidden. However, she did not doubt that the potion had something to do with it. Maybe it was even the cause.

A tugging on her sleeve drew her from her thoughts, "grandma?"

Ari then; she had grown used to the title, despite having no relation, she supposed in the girl's eyes she fitted the idea, though not physically of course. She prided herself on her young appearance. "Yes, little one?"

"Is Fili sick?"

She sighed, a lump forming in her throat, "it would seem so little one, it would seem so." But of what kind of sickness, she did not know.

She drew herself up, her chin held high, "come, my friends. We should leave him to his rest."


Róskva had not seen Fili since the day it had happened. He had stayed shut in his room, only opening the door to accept food. The Lady Dis had taken over his duties temporarily, telling the court that Fili was unwell and unable to attend to his duties for the time being. It wasn't that far from the truth.

The mountain continued to move around him, and the world with it. People were asking questions, questioning him even. Since the incident with Frár, that kind of talk often one many distrust; anyone was could be the next Frár.

Orcs were approaching again, not trying the luck with the mountain- even they weren't that stupid. They were approaching one of the newer camps set up by the human settlers, not quite ready to live in Dale yet. Many of the humans could not defend themselves, and so a few dwarves were summoned to defend them, by the order of Lady Dis. And they answered so gladly.

She herself was one of them.

There were about one hundred or so orcs approaching, and twenty or so dwarves. An even match, to be completely honest. The orcs wouldn't stand a chance; still, there was a chance they would.

She wanted to bid her goodbyes to Fili before she left for a few days, just in case.

Just in case it was the last goodbye.


Róskva had been outside his door for half an hour or so, and she had not left yet. She had said many things, but he couldn't focus enough to understand many of her words. There was another rasp on the door, "Fili please, I want to see you- "

He felt a fury rise up inside him, "leave me! Can't you see I don't want you here!"

There was a silence, a cold and quite one. Then came a sound he had not heard before. A shaking, breathing sound. Róskva was crying. "Goodbye, Fili," she said. Then there was another silence.

He clenched his jaw, swallowing; a feeling of dread and guilt overcoming him. I shouldn't have done that…

Yet, he wanted to be alone, from everyone, even from Róskva. Even from them.

He didn't want anyone to see him, for he knew what they would say. That he was crazy, unfit to be King, that he was imagining it and they weren't real. All sorts of things. A part of him thought they were right; wanted them to be right. It would be easier; make more sense then what was truly the reality. But he knew better now.

He had been right, Thorin and Kili were not alive. Not really; they had died on the battlefield, where he should have. Yet, they didn't seem to be truly dead either, in the same way, that they were not alive. They were somewhere in between.

They were with him now, Kili sitting beside him on his bed, frowning in concern. His uncle was leaning against his desk; arms crossed as he looked over his old rooms. They would not leave him alone, not once in the last few days had they left. He wondered if they ever had.

They looked as they had before they died, battle armour and all. Kili looked sad, so very sad. The sparkle in his eyes had gone out; Fili did not doubt he was the reason why. His brother had not left his side since the tour. Once he wouldn't have minded, for it was as it had always been. The both of them, side by side forever.

But not like this.

His uncle looked as he always had done, stern and composed in his nobility. Only happy and smiling amongst himself and Kili. It would seem that had changed too. His uncle looked weighed down, defeated. His blue eyes met his, "Fili, I know this is hard, but you must attend to your people; support your friends."

He looked away; he would not talk to them. They looked like them, were probably them, but they couldn't be. They had died; whatever they were could be nothing more than a shallow reflection of what they were. Though in the back of his mind even he doubted that. If he hadn't known they were dead he would have thought they were alive and well, just sadder. He didn't want to face them, not after causing their deaths.

So he sat, silent. Surrounded by the dead.