Gold and Fire – Chapter 12 – Succumb
They say the way your life is made is only stars aligning
On you go, the sea's would roll, lonely souls a'pining
The great unknown we live and hope the one that fits you right won't pass you by
Will we be those who meet and know a love on its sight
Or two ships in the night?
Mick Flannery "Ships in the Night"
youtube .com watch?v=bP8IS3QjsG4 "Ships in the night" Mick Flannery
Kili found himself in a barrel. It wasn't a prank, it wasn't for a joyride, and it wasn't because he accidentally dropped something to the bottom of it. With a violently rushing river surrounding him, this barrel served as his lifeline.
The croak of wood could be heard when his barrel smacked into his brother's barrel and then the thunk sound of several barrels hitting against each other. Kili found himself suddenly grateful his fingers hadn't been severed as the contact of the barrels jarred them violently together. What was holding them up? With his head finally settling from being jolted, he opened wide eyes to realize they were being blocked by a gate built over the waterline.
Bilbo's rescue of the dwarves had been eagerly waited for, but when the hobbit brought them to the wine cellar and encouraged them to crawl inside of the empty barrels they began to believe he hadn't thought the plan thoroughly through. Still, a bad plan was better than no plan, Kili mused. And how could they have foreseen the barrier the elves had built?
Kili was ready to jump up and throw the guards into the water to get to the lever that would open the gate and release his barrel-riding kin. He had no weapon with which to fend them off, but that did not daunt him when he knew he had strength in his arms.
Something fell over him and nearly pulled him into the water—a guard! Were the elves obliging the dwarves by falling into the water without his assistance? Kili laughed inwardly at his own joke, but frowned when he saw the orc arrow at the back of the guard's head. Orcs?
They had been followed here by the same band of orcs that pursued them before reaching Beorn's house! But he did not see Azog—would it be too much to hope that the white orc had been killed by the eagles?
Kili's head turned—the lever! It was unguarded! The bridge over the water was unguarded and the lever to open the river gate was calling to him loudly.
Raising himself out of the barrel without toppling over, Kili jumped to dry land and ducked as an orc swung its sword at him. And just as it was needed, Dwalin threw a cleaver at the young dwarf, who expertly caught it and sliced at the orc's belly. Kicking him into the river, Kili let his comrades finish the foul creature and took the steps two by two, reaching the top.
Lopping the head off of the next fiend who got in his way, Kili noticed that his brother had thrown a blade at the orc approaching from behind. It was no shame to admit the thrill he felt in knowing his brother was still guarding his back despite the strange layout of the battle.
But just before his hands touched the lever that would release the barrels, Kili felt something bite hard at his thigh and all forward motion stopped.
"Kili!" He heard his brother shout.
If Kili had been made of wood, he would have described the sensation in his leg like an axe splitting wood and splintering at the edges. It stung, it burrowed, it grazed the bone and shook his foundation, it was pulling him down as if with a great weight.
He reached out for the handle anyway and tried to pull it down despite the clawing sensation that meant to drag him to the ground, but it overpowered him when he stretched to use his strength against the lever.
Mahal, it was an arrow in his leg, but it weakened him even to his arms.
He fell backwards, no longer able to resist the downward pull of the injury and feeling as though he was so heavy he might sink into the earth and continue to fall through all the way to its core.
Through eyes squinting with pain, he saw an enemy orc making its way to him and prayed that Mahal would watch over his uncle, his brother, and even the she-elf who had done so much for him while Kili passed into the halls of his fathers—but an arrow soared through the air and brought the orc down.
Glancing to his right, he saw the flow of red hair and the flutter of green fabric. Tauriel.
Kili didn't know how long he lay gaping at her, but it was longer than it should have been and he reminded himself of his purpose. With the elf guarding his way with the cover-fire of arrows, he had a better chance of success than before.
Resisting the pull against stone and dirt, he set his hands on the stairs beside him and used them to tug him upward, rising enough to reach the level. He had little strength, but he realized he didn't need strength to pull the lever downward, he needed the weight that kept threatening to bring him down.
What was working against him he used to his advantage, grasping at the handle and letting gravity do the rest. A satisfying clank was the reply of the gates, now open, allowing his companions to pass through the arch and onward to the roaring river. He rewarded himself by stopping his exertion and dropping to the stone beneath him.
But his reward was not long enjoyed before he heard his name called in panic.
Fili was holding the empty barrel that had served as Kili's boat and was beckoning for him to drop.
Drop. Dropping? I can do that.
Rolling to his side, he let gravity—his new friend—guide him into the barrel. Apparently, gravity was not so much of a friend as he first thought because it was that same force which broke the arrow shaft against the lip of the barrel.
An animalistic scream might have left his lips, but he didn't have enough breath in his lungs to give it its full potency and settled for an agonized grimace and an inhale of air tinged with water vapor.
youtube .com watch?v=iFiNlLt8sJw "Roads untraveled" Linkin Park
Tauriel saw the arrow in Kili's leg and assured herself that it could have been worse. Of course, that assurance did nothing when she saw him drop himself and sever the arrow shaft on the barrel's ridge. It was a distraction that cost her valuable focus, but thankfully her friend—for though she was beginning to disagree with Legolas and his father about many different things, she knew she could still call Legolas her friend—was guarding her back and made short work of the brute who took advantage of her lapse.
She was about to behead another orc when Legolas stopped her, insisting that the orc be brought to Mirkwood for questioning. Though confused as to what Legolas thought he could get out of the filthy creature, Tauriel complied and accompanied their captive back to the King's halls—though it was her dearest wish to run the shore of the river to guard the brother dwarves from the enemy she knew was still pursuing them.
Thranduil seemed pleased when Legolas and Tauriel brought the orc before him and launched into a speech Tauriel was sure she could do without.
"Such is the nature of evil," Thranduil droned on and Tauriel felt her patience being worn down by her King's habit of waxing poetic even in orc interrogations. It was lost on the foul orc, anyway, she thought.
"Out there in the vast ignorance of the world, it festers and spreads—a shadow that grows in the dark—a sleepless malice as black as the oncoming wall of night."
Legolas looked to be guarding his patience as well, struggling with the enemy who knelt beneath him under the elf's strong hold.
"So it ever was, so will it always be. In time, all foul things come forth."
"You were tracking the company of thirteen dwarves," Legolas hastily added. Only Tauriel could truly have appreciated that it was to prevent Thranduil from speaking on, though in such a way as to hide any disrespect. "Why?"
The black-skinned orc rolled his head around while Legolas' dagger fitted itself tightly against the orc's neck. "Not thirteen," it gargled. "Not anymore. The young one, the black-haired archer, we stuck him with a morghul shaft."
Tauriel hadn't meant to, but the words incited panic inside of her and she unwittingly displayed that concern for only a few moments before regaining control of her features.
Apparently, the orc had seen, because he continued with a jeer. "The poison's in his blood. He'll be choking on it soon."
Don't let him see, Tauriel scolded herself. Don't let any of them see… "Answer the question, filth."
"I don't answer to dogs, she-elf."
The ringing sound of a blade escaped her dagger before she truly realized she had brought it out.
"I would not antagonize her," Legolas smirked. He was perhaps the only elf in that realm who had been witness to Tauriel's more devious side and did not reprimand it as harshly as everyone else did—he probably knew it had its uses.
"You like killing things, orc?" She said with a ferocity that even surprised her, but Tauriel had unloosed something vicious when she allowed herself to have sentiment for the dwarf brothers, if not for Kili alone, and that protectiveness surged through her now. "You like death? Then let me give it to you."
She only had enough restraint to keep her blade from severing the head of the orc when King Thranduil stopped her with a word. But she resented that he had told her to stop. The orc had called her a dog and she marked how true that parallel was: Obedient and unquestioning, offering loyalty despite what small regard was given, and an attempt to be enthusiastic about conditions that did not truly make her happy.
And being told to leave did nothing for her spirits when there was already so much dissension inside of her.
"I do not care about one dead dwarf, answer the question." Thranduil said in a mellow tone while Tauriel descended the steps behind her King.
Tauriel could not help but recall the words Fili had spoken to her:
"All life is sacred." She had said. "Race is unimportant."
"I'm not so sure your King would agree with that." Fili had replied.
And Thranduil's words just now—"I do not care about one dead dwarf"—had struck her deeply as a confirmation that Fili was right.
Then what were her own sentiments if she was condemned to live out eternity within Thranduil's walls? No matter how she had done away with her prejudice for races, if she did not act then she was no better than Thranduil himself.
Comparing herself to Thranduil had taken on a whole new meaning, now, and it was one she would resist even if it meant being exiled for doing what she believed to be right.
youtube .com watch?v=O_pQC_tV3kQ "The Violet Hour" The Civil Wars
Fili wasn't sure what to make of the situation. As much as he fought against his protective nature for Kili—allowing the younger dwarf some room and recognizing that he couldn't hover over the younger dwarf like a mother hen—something wasn't right. His instincts were screaming at him to check Kili's wound, but he stopped himself. Or at least, he made himself count to a random number to give Kili a moment before barging in and demanding how bad the injury was.
Kili had already pulled out the arrowhead—much to Fili's frustration—and was pressing at the gouge with a piece of torn shirt.
"I'm fine, it's nothing." Fili heard his brother hiss at Bofur, who had already offered assistance to the younger dwarf, and he didn't know what to make of the angry sensation washing over him that he hadn't been the first one to check on Kili.
No more head games, Fili shouted at himself, and finally rushed to Kili's side. "Kili?"
"It's fine." Kili murmured, "I'm fine, leave me alone."
"No, you're not. Let me see it."
"On your feet." Fili heard his uncle command to the others.
"Kili's wounded," the blonde dwarf objected. "His leg needs binding."
"There's an orc-pack on our tail, we keep moving." Thorin's voice rose firmly, but Fili paid him no mind and was already wrapping a piece of his undershirt around Kili's thigh, making as good of a bandage as he could manage with the wet fabric.
"Bind his leg quickly," Thorin said in what sounded like a possessed voice. "You have two minutes."
youtube .com watch?v=FTV_sAbZsYs "Upside Down" Gungor
Tauriel was standing on the rocks overlooking the river and smiling as the breeze smoothed over her face, whispering sweet things to her and brushing through her hair. The open, it was something she loved more than the grand halls Thranduil himself rarely left. She knew that if the path she had chosen called for her to sleep among tree branches, drink from rivers, and nourish herself from whatever the forest offered her, it was worth the price of being alone.
A sound caught her ears and she strung an arrow in one swift movement, turning to face her enemy and interrupting her short communion with nature.
"I thought you were an orc," Tauriel smirked, lowering her bow.
"If I were an orc," Legolas jabbed back, lowering his own. "You'd be dead. Tauriel, you cannot hunt thirty orcs on your own." He sighed in exasperation.
Clearly, he did not understand that this was not her intention, but she wasn't ready to dispute it with him. She also wasn't ready to admit to herself that what she was doing was desertion. "But I am not on my own." She threw him a sly smile.
"You knew I would come?" Legolas wondered aloud. "The King is angry, Tauriel. For six hundred years, my father had protected you—"
If by "protect" you mean "locked away" then, yes, he has. She grumbled inwardly. She found it hard to be angry with Legolas, though, in misusing the term when it felt so nice to have the wind on her face, standing free and in the open.
"—favored you. You defied his orders, you betrayed his trust." Legolas drew closer to Tauriel. "Come back with me. He will forgive you."
Fixing her gaze on the Mirkwood Prince, she countered, "But I will not. If I go back, I will not forgive myself." When she saw his confusion, Tauriel continued. "The King has never let orc filth pass through our lands, yet he would this orc pack cross our borders and kill our prisoners."
"It is not our fight." Legolas interjected, sounding so much like his father that Tauriel's temper rose.
"It is our fight." She insisted. "It will not end here—with every victory this evil will grow," she borrowed a few words the King had used, hoping they would impact Legolas all the more.
But Legolas looked away from her and she finally revealed her true thoughts. "If your father has his way, we will do nothing." She sneered a little. "We will hide within our walls, live our lives away from the light, and let darkness descend."
What would it take to make him understand? Tauriel took in Legolas' stubborn expression and saw that her words had still made no impression. "Are we not part of this world?" She asked meekly, wondering if it was even necessary to say such a thing.
But at last, she recognized something in the elf-Prince's eyes, something that veered toward compassion and a shame that what she said was true.
Thorin was aware of his nephew's wound, but his patience was wearing thin. Kili had a terrible habit of hiding the severity of his injuries and normally the older dwarf would have dragged it out of him in an interrogation-style confrontation. But Thorin had enough to be concerned with and wouldn't cater to Kili's difficult nature, especially seeing as he was more than a little occupied right now—
—sitting under a mound of fish. He was holding his breath, partly because of the fish and partly because his barrel had just been tapped by someone's hand. To be discovered in his hiding place meant failure despite all they had suffered through.
As if that wasn't enough, Thorin could feel the arkenstone beckoning to him with a painful tug—much like the soreness that would have accompanied the strike of a warhammer against his chest.
It wasn't until he was standing safely before Bard the bargeman's fireplace that he took a steady breath. They had passed by the guard house without incident, scurried through the shadows like thieves, and risen through the latrine into Bard's home.
When the bargeman presented the dwarves with inferior weapons, Thorin's temper had risen to new heights. Had they not suffered enough already? Had they not given everything they owned, every ounce of energy, even their own blood, to get this far? Constantly waylaid, constantly attacked, constantly starving and losing what meager supplies they had gathered…
If they had been further from their destination, Thorin might seriously have considered turning back.
No! The once-sweet voice now spoke with fierce determination. You are so close. You must come.
I will, Thorin mentally assured it. But first he had something he needed to clear up.
Turning to Kili, who sat upon the window seat of Bard's house while clutching at a sledgehammer for support, Thorin crossed his arms. "Kili, let me see it, lad."
"It's fine." Kili said with a shake of his head.
"Kili," The older dwarf furrowed his brow. "Do not lie to me. I need to know I can depend on the able bodies of every dwarf in this company—with no supplies and these pitiful weapons, none of us can be lacking in strength—"
"You can depend on me," His nephew said, probably fighting the accusation of weakness Thorin hadn't meant to imply. Or had he?
Thorin could see Kili hiding his pain, but Thorin could not waste any time coddling his nephew. If the lad said he was well enough to move then he needed to either prove it to be true or fail and deal with the consequences.
"Then we will have you," Thorin said with a firm hand on Kili's shoulder. Even through the layers of fabric, he could feel the chill of the lad's skin. "Go sit by the fire."
youtube .com watch?v=gJMhZJjGGrU "Slip Away" Josh Garrels
Bilbo was certain he had never felt so miserable in his life. Sitting before Bard's fireplace and wrapped in a blanket, the hobbit sniffed and –not for the first time—longed for his faithful armchair back home.
He was encouraged to see Kili coming to sit beside him, though he noticed the dwarf looked out of spirits. Bilbo knew he had every right to be.
"How are you faring?" Bilbo tentatively asked.
"I'm fine." Kili barked, but Bilbo saw Fili roll his eyes and knew it wasn't true. Still, the hobbit had been friends with the younger dwarf long enough to know better than to press it.
"Are we leaving tonight or in the morning?" Bilbo asked after sipping at some hot tea.
Kili looked irritated with the question and didn't answer, but Fili—who came up behind his brother and set a blanket over the dwarf's shoulders—said, "Likely tonight. Why?"
"I was wondering if I could get some sleep." The Halfling yawned.
"Now is as good a time as any," Fili answered, tapping at Kili's shoulder. "You should rest, too."
The wounded archer replied with a guttural phrase in Khuzdul and earned a smack to the back of his head from Fili's hand.
"There are ladies present, lad," Bofur scolded.
"They can't understand dwarvish." Kili croaked, earning another smack.
Bilbo didn't speak dwarvish himself, but he knew that if Kili's words had caused the hardened miner to blush then they must have been pretty bad.
At a stern look from Kili's uncle—which must have meant, "Go lie down or I will wrestle you to the floor with a blanket"—the young dwarf rose and made for the floor of Bard's bedroom.
Apparently, Bilbo was not the only one to think on sleep because Bard and his children had offered their beds and small supply of blankets to a few of Thorin's company already.
"Maybe I don't know him as well as you do, but I've never seen Kili so upset." Bilbo remarked to Fili, who filled the seat his brother had left empty.
"I can vouch for his temper," Fili sighed. "But you are right."
Bilbo knew Fili was having trouble letting his younger brother be, but the hobbit only chalked it up to dwarf stubbornness—Kili was stubbornly trying to prove himself and Fili was being stubbornly protective. He watched as the dwarf lost another battle against that stubbornness when Fili removed himself from the chair and followed Kili's path to the room, sitting on the floor beside the laying form of the archer and reaching out a hand to the dwarf's forehead.
The heavens knew Bilbo felt sick, he couldn't imagine how his wounded friend felt.
He peered over at the brothers again and saw Kili swat Fili's hand away, speaking something angrily in Khuzdul. If Bilbo expected Fili to hit back or shout, he was wrong.
Fili held a patient look of concern and was replying himself in the dwarven language, though it sounded softer and more lulling. Bilbo watched as Fili dared to reach out his hand again, and this time Kili caught it less forcefully and slowly lowered it. Fili continued to soothe the younger dwarf with flowing dwarvish words.
Whatever Thorin's heir was saying, it was offering Kili some sort of solace and calming him to sleep, all while Fili's fingers reached out again to stroke at his brother's hair. He had no doubt his injured companion had finally begun to slumber.
Bilbo took his eyes away, feeling a little guilty for eavesdropping on the tender moment between the siblings, but secretly he was relieved that Fili could wade so patiently through the waves of Kili's irritability.
As the hobbit let his own eyes droop, he found his mind wandering to a thought that would have been unsettling if he had been more awake… he wondered what a dragon looked like in person…
youtube .com watch?v=9vocns3YPR8 "Begin" Wailing Jennys
Thorin stood on the dock which led to the outlet of the lake, handing supplies from a guard to the hands of Dori in the boat just below him.
The dwarves had been discovered late last night in the armory because Kili had stumbled down a set of stairs. Thorin could hardly be upset with Kili for stumbling—in fact, he'd been terrified that his nephew had impaled himself on one of the weapons he was carrying when the lad fell—and Thorin navigated through the politics of the townspeople easily enough.
No, none of these were why Thorin was angry—it was because his nephew had so blatantly lied to him. Furthermore, not being able to trust what the wounded lad said meant that Thorin had to assume the worst. He could not ignore the gleam of sweat on the archer's brow or the pale color of his skin.
An open wound caused by a rusted arrow-head, soaked by a river, patted down with dead fish, and then exposed to the waste of Bard's latrine was certain to become infected—and Thorin could not stand to watch his nephew become worse in the harsh conditions that awaited them in the mountains.
In all probability, Kili wouldn't last past the next morning in his condition. As heart-wrenching as it was, Thorin determined that his nephew stood a better chance of surviving if he stayed behind in Laketown. He knew Kili and his brother would object, would cling to any hope they could see in their uncle's eyes or hear in his voice, so he must remain firm—he must keep his expression stony and his voice tight.
"Not you," Thorin reached out a hand to stop Kili from entering the boat. "We must travel at speed, you will slow us down." It sounded like a heartless thing to say, but it was partly true. They had already lost so much time, and Thorin was constantly being reminded of this by the voice that beckoned him from the mountain.
"What are you talking about?" Kili smirked, as though he expected Thorin to admit he was joking. "I'm coming with you."
"No." Thorin said simply, keeping his answer short. He was doing his best to remain firm, but the lad's expression was breaking his heart and weakening his will. And he knew that if he looked at Fili's expression—which he was sure was one of disbelief—he would begin to question his decision further. He won't survive, Thorin reminded himself, if he comes with us.
"I'm going to be there when that door is opened." Kili said in what Thorin saw as an attempt to assert himself, but the lad's voice was weak and trembling. "When we first look upon the halls of our fathers, Thorin—"
Thorin reached out a hand to Kili's shoulder. "Kili," He drew his nephew closer, willing his face to remain still and stony. "Stay here. Rest." And passing his hand over the lad's head in what he hoped Kili understood was a comforting touch. "Join us when you're healed."
Incredulous was the face Kili wore, eyebrows pulled together, a grimace making lines on his cheekbones, and mouth open as though it had forgotten how to anchor itself. Betrayal. That's what Kili's face said.
But it isn't betrayal, Thorin wanted to cry out, I'm saving your life! And he turned away, knowing that his resolve wouldn't hold as long as he was gazing at his nephew's look of hurt.
"Oin," Thorin whispered to their physician. "Help him, please…"
"I'll stay with the lad," Oin answered, brushing off the surprised looks of the others with a wave of his hand and the explanation: "My duty lies with the wounded."
"Uncle," Thorin heard Fili address him and he groaned inwardly, knowing that Fili hadn't understood. "We grew up on tales of the mountain, tales you told us." His heir implored him. "You cannot take that away from him."
"Fili…" His brother grumbled. Kili lurched away from Oin's touch, brushing off the physician.
"I will carry him if I must!" The blonde dwarf offered in determination.
Didn't Fili comprehend that Thorin was saving Kili from getting worse? Only if he said it aloud, he'd be met with objections, with concessions—he didn't doubt their physician could have made a gurney for Kili if it had been necessary, along with whatever else the injured lad needed, but it would have cost him time he didn't have! No, this was the only way…
"One day you will be King and you will understand." Thorin said. "I cannot risk the fate of this quest for the sake of one dwarf. Not even my own kin."
"I said I'm fine!" Kili moaned to Oin, who had begun to prod the lad's leg.
Thorin watched as Fili fixed a stern eye on his brother and then his uncle, back and forth, and then stepped out of the boat.
"Fili, don't be a fool," Thorin pulled at Fili's elbow. "You belong with the company."
Fili stepped forward, close to his uncle's face and uttered in a strong voice, "I belong with my brother," before pulling away from Thorin's grip and planting himself defiantly beside Kili.
youtube .com watch?v=STWqRskxxyY "What Was Found" Peter Broderick
It was inside him—every vein, every muscle, under his fingernails, and sneaking into his inner ear. Kili didn't know what it was, but he felt a bit like a mountain with a gold vein running through him with hundreds of miners working away at every part of him.
"Fili?" He moaned weakly, clenching his jaw and pressing his eyes tightly together, his head rolling back as he was carried by his arms. He didn't know where he was, he didn't know who was touching him, and he couldn't have brought himself to care.
"Fili, please!" He didn't know what he was asking for; he only knew that he was no longer ashamed to ask for help. He'd tried to endure the pain quietly, tried to do it on his own, but now he was done.
"Kili, we're almost there, just hold on a moment longer."
Almost where? Kili asked himself for a moment, but then returned to not caring about anything but the seizing of his limbs and the fluidic molten gold running through his veins. The hundreds of miners were working furiously to tap into it and scrape it out.
"Please, forgive me," Kili groaned, thinking that perhaps the miners in his body might let up if he admitted to acting harshly to Fili beforehand. But they didn't, they kept right on mining his blood.
"Already forgiven," Kili heard as though it were far off.
His tongue fell asleep, otherwise he would have said more, and a prickling sensation began in his lips. Kili heard his brother talking to someone and then the familiar voice of Bard, letting them into his home once again, and the distant feel of hands scooping him up and lowering him to the bed.
It might as well have been a box of biting vipers for all Kili could tell, so stinging and pressing was the horrible sensation running from his leg to the rest of his body.
"Fili!" Kili just about screamed in agony, but he couldn't take in enough air to get much volume. "I'm sorry for what I said; don't leave me, I need you!" At least, this is what he was trying to say, but it was muffled by his numbed lips and swelling tongue.
"I'm here, nadadith." He felt the breath from Fili's lips whoosh against his ear.
But then the miners found molten mithril mixed in with the gold and began digging in earnest and Kili could hear nothing else as he cried out.
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Special thank you to BlueRiverSteel and SummerAlden for edits!
