21

Fíli felt a jolt in his stomach as Kíli collapsed sideways, and if he hadn't been expecting it, Kíli would have hit the floor. As it was, Fíli ran forwards, catching his brother and gently putting him down on the bed, just as the door opened and Thorin walked in.

"Try again," Oin said, flatly ignoring his leader's presence.

"What's going on?" Thorin asked.

"Oin deemed it acceptable for Kíli to attempt to start walking again," Fíli answered.

"Ah."

"And I just – can't – do it!" Kíli ground out, refusing to look up.

Following a fitful night's sleep, Oin had announced that if Kíli felt up to it, they could try walking once around the room. Kíli had rushed out of bed almost immediately, regardless of his still-healing leg, which turned out to be a very bad idea, given as how the moment Kíli put his injured leg down, he'd fallen sideways into Fíli, and the pair had ended up on the floor. Oin had done his best not to laugh – Kíli was fine afterwards, save for his pride, and the looks on this and his brother's faces was something that Oin could not fail to be amused by. However, that was the only amusing moment that morning, and with every passing attempt Kíli had become more and more downhearted until, after an hour, he was so dejected that he could barely find his feet, even with Fíli's aid. Which was when Thorin had entered.

"Yes, you can," Thorin said, matter-of-factly.

"No, I... I can't!" Kíli said, and he sounded close to tears. "I've been trying all morning, and all I've gained from it is an interesting collection of bruises!"

"You can also stand," Fíli pointed out. "You don't need me holding you up once you're on your feet to stay upright."

Kíli snorted. "Yes, I can stay on my feet – once you've stood me up like some oversized ornament."

"Which is better than what you were doing earlier – half an hour ago I'd let you go and you'd fall over. That's got to count for something."

"He's right," Oin chipped in. "I've seen people with injuries like yours and let me assure you that at this stage in the recovery, most of them would still be in their beds, unable to sit up, let alone stand. You're doing remarkably well, I'm worried that you're pushing yourself. Perhaps it would be best if we called it a day and tried again tomorrow-"

"NO!" Kíli cut him off abruptly. "We can't stop now, I... I have to push myself! Otherwise... Otherwise Azog's going to reach Erebor before us!"

Kíli only realised after he'd said this that this was the first time he'd spoken of Azog's plans to the company, and his exclamation was only met with confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

Kíli looked up at Thorin apologetically. "Azog... Azog wants to disgrace the line of Durin. He wants to insult us as much as possible, and to do that, he wants to take Erebor. He feels that there is no better way to disgrace our name than to sit on the throne of our ancestors."

Kíli's eyes flickered around the room – Fíli looked shocked, Oin looked angry, and Thorin looked resigned, if not slightly sickened by the thought.

"Of course..." Thorin said quietly. "He would want that..."

Without another word, Thorin walked out the door, his face set, leaving the others to wonder what exactly he'd come in for in the first place.

"Well, I'm... I think we should call it a day," Oin said, gathering his resolve once more.

"But-"

"Kíli, if we try anything more I'm worried that it will do more harm than good – I know you want to push yourself, but you do have limits."

"Please, Oin..."

"No," Oin said decisively, showing that no amount of begging, puppy-dog eyes or bargaining was going to get him to change his mind. "I've made my decision. After you've had a rest, then maybe – maybe – we can try again this afternoon. And don't give me that look, Kíli, this is for the best."

Kíli refused to stop glaring at Oin, barely suffering Fíli to help him get back into bed. Oin sighed – he'd endured far worse than a glare for his decrees as a healer – and followed Thorin out, mildly annoyed.

"Kíli, there's a point where I can tell when you're being difficult deliberately," Fíli said exasperatedly. "Tensing your good leg and refusing to allow it to move comes under that heading."

Kíli huffed theatrically and fell backwards across the bed. Fíli sighed – the only thing worse for him than an injured Kíli was a sulking injured Kíli.

Nevertheless, he 'aided' (if lifting him up and putting him back into bed in the right position could be called 'aiding') Kíli around so that he was settled into a comfortable position on the bed.

"You'll get there, you know," Fíli smiled.

Kíli gave another derisive snort, turning away with no small degree of annoyance. "You saw how well it went today," he snapped.

"Yes, I did," Fíli said testily, his own annoyance beginning to show. Kíli had a short temper at the best of times, which was only shortened by whatever had happened to him at Azog's hands. Fíli usually possessed a remarkable ability to keep his head, counteracting his brother, but the sheer intensity of what he'd felt over the past couple of weeks – had it really only been two weeks? – had shortened his own temper considerably. "It seems to me that you, on the other hand, didn't. Kíli, you suffered a week with barely any water, and less food. You fell off a cliff! It's going to take a while to recover from what you went through."

He chose to ignore how Kíli tensed at the penultimate sentence, shuddering at the memory. He wasn't going to treat his brother like he was made of glass anymore, and to be perfectly honest he wanted an answer to the question that had been gnawing at his very sanity for a while now.

"Why did you do it, Kíli?"

Kíli closed his eyes, and it was clear that he was fighting back tears.

"Was it for me?" Fíli probed. "Were you trying to save my life, trying to stop me from doing... that?"

Kíli looked around, determinedly avoiding Fíli's eyes.

"I have to know, Kíli!"

He hadn't meant to shout this last sentence, but it finally provoked the reaction he'd wanted.

"If you must know..." Kíli said in a small voice, "I... I wasn't doing it for you. I was doing it for myself."

"What?"

"You were bargaining for my life, not my freedom," Kíli forced himself to meet Fíli's eyes. "Do you really think that Azog would have just let me go? No, he would have kept me prisoner while he slaughtered you, making me watch, and then he would have made me watch as he killed Thorin, and then the rest of the company, before finally, by his hand or my own, I would be killed, thus ending whatever quest for vengeance Azog had in mind."

"So what? Are you saying that it was my fault?" Fíli's voice rose half an octave with indignity.

"No, I'm not..."

"Because it sounded a lot like that's what you meant!"

"It would have happened anyway!" Kíli finally snapped. "From the moment you started talking, I knew that it had to happen – if not then, then maybe not long after! I just cut out a few victims!"

A ringing silence fell, and suddenly Fíli realised he was on his feet, anger coursing through him.

"You know, you're selfish!" Fíli hissed. "How did you think I'd feel after that? Happy? Pleased that I was alive and you weren't? I'd already lost you once, losing you a second time was no easier!"

Tears were running down his own face now, and almost as soon as those words had left his mouth, he felt guilt twist like a knife in his stomach at Kíli's pale face, and it struck him that he'd never before seen Kíli look quite so broken – including the day before when he had just realised that he'd lost his hand. Unable to bear the sight of it, he flung the door open, and stormed out.

-:-

Thorin was deep in conversation with Gandalf and Beorn over the latest revelation that Kíli had brought him.

"This... This changes everything..." Thorin said breathlessly, once he'd finished explaining what Kíli had told him. "With Azog following us, we cannot hope to take back the mountain with thirteen of us! We'll be slaughtered before we get through the door!"

"It was a foolish quest anyway," Beorn said matter-of-factly. "I'm not entirely sure what you were thinking, taking on Smaug. You might as well save yourself the trouble of Mirkwood – turn back now."

Thorin glared at Beorn, showing just how much he valued the skin-changer's input.

"Thorin, do you know if Kíli told Azog about the map and the key?"

"He wouldn't." Thorin said flatly. "Kíli's loyal. He wouldn't."

Gandalf raised his eyebrows sceptically, but said nothing of the trust Thorin put in Kíli's ability to withstand tortures. "In which case, this changes nothing. Azog cannot possibly hope to gain entry by the main gate with Smaug there, and if he doesn't know about the other entrance, and doesn't have the key, then he has no other way to enter the mountain."

"Then what should we do? Should we go as soon as soon as possible?"

"Well, that depends," Gandalf said calmly.

"On what?"

"Whether Kíli is accompanying you or not."

Thorin chose not to respond to that. The simple truth was that he didn't know what Kíli would want to do anymore. Before he had woken, and indeed for some time after, Thorin had assumed that Kíli would want to turn back. But the conversation he'd had with Kíli the evening before... He recalled the tone that Kíli had used when describing the group – he had focused the conversation on how best to destroy the company of orcs. It was very subtle, and he doubted that anybody else would have noticed it. But the tone he'd used to describe Bolg... That was no mere desire for revenge. There was an element of bloodlust there, and as he'd described what killing Bolg would do to Azog, he'd noticed an expression of joy flit across his nephew's face. The smile... Thorin had never seen it grace his nephew's face before – or indeed the face of any of his kin, or his own race. The closest to that was the expressions he'd seen on the faces of orcs, just after the first red blood had been shed on a battlefield. It was not a desire to see more blood spill, it was more than that. It was an obsession.

Before Thorin could dwell any longer on whatever darkness had seized Kíli's soul, the door of Kíli's room burst open, and Fíli came storming out, tears streaming down his face. The entire room fell silent – since Kíli had been brought back by Bilbo, Fíli had emerged from that room twice, and neither for particularly long. The first time he'd shown his face had been to tell Thorin that Kíli wanted to speak to him, and the second time had been later that evening, escorting Thorin from the room, pausing on the threshold to tell Thorin that if his uncle ever... ever lost his temper with Kíli like that again, he, Fíli, would personally see to it that Thorin's face would be decorated with an interesting blue and purple blend, and that his uncle would 'piss blood for a month.' So what Thorin found most surprising was Fíli's reaction to the question posed to him.

"Fíli, what happened?"

"Do whatever you want with him!" Fíli snarled. "Rip his head off if you like, see if I care!"

Which was followed by the front door opening and slamming behind Fíli's retreating form.

Dwalin shot Thorin a confused look as the silence only intensified. The unspoken question resided on everybody's lips: What is going on?

Without a word, Thorin walked into Kíli's room, his eyes focusing on the dark-haired figure who was staring at the ceiling.

"What just happened?"

Kíli's gaze switched from the rafters to Thorin, only just noticing his appearance. "Fíli asked me a question, I answered it, he over-reacted, we both said some harsh things and he stormed out." The monotone in which Kíli delivered his explanation told Thorin absolutely nothing except that Kíli would really rather not talk about it.

Not that Thorin was in any mood to indulge his nephew.

"What question did he ask you?"

"Ask him about it." A hint of annoyance had crept into Kíli's monotone.

"I'm asking you, Kíli."

Kíli sighed, finally realising that Thorin wasn't going to go away until he had the answers he'd sought. "He asked me why I jumped off the cliff."

Ah.

"And your answer was...?"

"I might have told him it was his mistake."

Oh, Mahal spare me...

"Please... please tell me you didn't..."

"Why shouldn't I? It was! No matter how pretty the lie may be, one thing I've learnt is that brutal honesty is usually best!"

"How was it his fault?" Thorin's anger was clearly threatening to break loose, but he kept his head this time.

"If he hadn't started bargaining with Azog, do you think that such a thing would have occurred to me?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest, I'm surprised it only occurred to you then!"

"What?" Kíli's voice had gone lower than usual, hurt evident in his eyes. It had been a slip of the tongue, but Thorin knew Kíli had taken it to heart.

"I'm only saying that if it was going to occur to you at all, I'm surprised that it occurred to you when Azog was about to spare you."

"And if he had, what then?" Kíli all but screamed, his voice still slightly hoarse from dehydration. "What would have happened then? Is it so hard for everyone to see? Azog would have butchered Fíli before my eyes! Do you think I'd have been able to live with that? Knowing that he died for me?"

"I had to."

It was this quiet admission that finally calmed Kíli. Never had Thorin spoken with Kíli about Frerin's death, and as far as Kíli was aware, Thorin had never spoken with Fíli about it, either.

"I had this insane plan... At Azanulzibar, I thought that we could slip inside the mine, and poison the orc's water supply... It seemed like such a great idea – the two young exiled princes, winning back Moria with a daring scheme that vanquished the orcs..." Thorin gave a grim laugh, sitting himself down on Fíli's chair. "I begged..." He swallowed. "I begged Frerin to join me. He didn't want to at first, but everyone seemed to look down on him, and he hated it. I knew what to say to get him to join me. 'Please, Frerin! We'll come back as heroes! People won't look twice at Dain if we're standing next to him!' – You have to understand that Dain often criticised Frerin, never seeing him of any worth, openly mocking him in the street, and it eventually got to the point where Frerin actually hated Dain. He eventually agreed, and so later, at dusk, we set out.

"And that's where it all went wrong..."

"What happened?" Kíli asked, hardly daring to speak.

"We forgot something very important – we hadn't planned our raid, we just did. We forgot that orcs were at their most alert at night. It was the stupidest oversight we could have achieved. We got inside easily enough, slipping in when the guards changed, but once inside, we... we didn't find their water supply. Instead we found... their armoury.

"The whole place was full of orcs, in various states of undress. One thing I distinctly remember Frerin saying as we fled was 'I don't care how many times I wash my eyes out with soap, I am never going to get that image out of my head.'"

Kíli gave a weak laugh.

"But the alarm was raised, and so orcs from all around Moria were on the lookout for us, and somehow, we ended up being herded into the throne room. Azog was sitting there, the 'King of Moria,' and I could feel Frerin seethe beside me at the injustice. But he'd been faced with the orc king before. I don't know if he knew how dire our situation was, but he whispered in my ear in Khuzdul: 'On the count of three, I'll distract them. You run, I'll meet you back at the camp.'

"Of course, I tried to argue, but he just went ahead and counted anyway. I knew that he was going to go ahead and carry out his part of the plan whatever I said, so I thought I'd better do my part. So when he reached three, he attacked, and I ran for it. I... I shouted at him to run once I'd reached the door, but he'd encountered some difficulties of his own. He... He told me to go..."

-:-

Thorin could barely see Frerin through the wall of orcs surrounding him.

"Frerin, RUN!"

As soon as these words had left his mouth, he knew something had gone wrong. There were splashes of red blood on the floor.

Frerin's blood.

It's just a cut, Thorin told himself. It's just a cut...

But as soon as he'd told himself this, he knew it was a lie. The standard cut did not bleed that much. This was... worse.

He had to help – Thorin drew his sword. This was all his fault – if Frerin died for his foolishness, he would never, ever forgive himself...

But just as he lunged forward, Frerin shouted something over the din.

"Go! Thorin, for Mahal's sake, GO! I'll... I'll catch you up!"

And like the fool he was, Thorin believed him.

He made it out somehow, running down corridors that were deserted. He didn't know how much time had passed between leaving Frerin and escaping into fresh air, but by the time he made it back to camp, dawn was creeping over the mountains. At the sight of the tents, he turned back to the mountains.

"Frerin?"

He knew it was useless – Frerin probably wouldn't be able to hear him, even if he had made it out. But he couldn't help himself.

"FRERIN!"

Tears began stinging his eyes. No, Frerin had to come out. Frerin had to show his face sometime, this was just a joke that Frerin was playing on him. Any minute now, Frerin would jump out from behind him, laughing his head off, with maybe a few new battle scars...

But Frerin had never kept him waiting before...

His eyes fell down to the bag of crushed herbs and poisons in his left hand. They hadn't even succeeded in doing that...

Thorin's legs gave way, and he fell down onto a rock, failure crippling him. He sat there for Mahal knew how long, waiting. Dawn turned into dusk, and dusk back into dawn, the endless cycle of the world fulfilling itself over and over again, and still Frerin did not emerge...

"Oh, Frerin," Thorin sobbed. "I'm so sorry..."

-:-

"I made it out," Thorin concluded. "Frerin... didn't."

"I'm sorry..." Kíli reached out his hand, completely at a loss of what to do.

Thorin took it, giving Kíli a weak smile. "I learnt afterwards, when we were interrogating an orc captain, that apparently the last thing Frerin ever did was that, as he was dying, he spat a mouthful of blood at Azog's feet. I don't think I've ever been more proud of him."

Kíli smiled, wondering where Thorin was going with this.

"Kíli, I have to ask – do you wish to continue with us? I'd understand if you wanted to go back to the Blue Mountains..."

"What? Uncle, of course I want to continue!"

"Kíli, you don't have anything to prove to anyone..."

"I don't want to prove myself!" Kíli snapped. "It just feels like... turning back now would have made the past few weeks seem like nothing. It would make this – " Kíli held up his left arm, where the sleeve of his shirt (a gift from Fíli) fell back to reveal the stump where his left hand should have been, "-be for nothing! I'm coming with you, whether you like it or not!"

Thorin smiled, dropping Kíli's hand. "Good lad..."

He stood up to leave, but paused by the door. "Oh, and Kíli?"

"Hm?"

"I... I don't think I've ever been more proud of you."

Four days later...

Kíli hobbled awkwardly into the dining room, using a stick to keep himself upright, with Fíli hovering behind him, his arms ready just in case Kíli should fall. Not that Kíli entirely appreciated the effort.

"I can walk by myself, you know," he huffed indignantly, causing a roar of laughter from the table.

"Well, actually, I think you'll find that you can't," Dwalin pointed out, gesturing to the walking stick.

It was the first time Kíli had actually emerged from the bedroom, and, unsurprisingly, the youngest dwarf in the company was getting sick of the room. Kíli gave a good show of being delighted to be walking around again, but the look of relief on his face as he fell down into the chair Oin kicked out for him told a different story.

"So what's been happening?" Kíli asked, as Fíli pushed his chair under the table.

"I've pretty much told you the entire story of what's been going on since..."

"Did you mention the bit about Bofur forgetting to remember which direction the sun rises?" Bifur put in helpfully.

"What!?"

"It was one time!" Bofur said defensively. "I knew I'd overslept! I just... didn't realise... how much I'd overslept..."

Kíli made a disappointed noise. "I'm sorry I missed that..."

"And did you mention how Dwalin had issues with stairs?"

"Don't – even – think – about it..." Dwalin ground out, glaring at Nori, who'd dared to bring up the issue.

"Oh, yeah!" Fíli began, his memory having been jogged. "Basically, after about two days of Dwalin flatly refusing to have a bath, Thorin finally put his foot down-"

"It's not that I didn't want to have a bath, it's that I didn't want to go around smelling like daisies-"

"-And so anyway, the bath is upstairs, but the stairs are steeper than usual, given as how they're designed for men, but there's this one irregularity about half-way up. The rest of us all figured out that one of the stairs is slightly higher than the others, but not Dwalin. He tripped on that stair... how many times?"

"Four," Oin put in helpfully.

"Four times on the way up," Fíli concluded, leading the entire table to burst out laughing at Dwalin's expense.

"Hah hah, very funny," Dwalin said sarcastically.

"Of course, when he came back down, he slipped on the same step and fell down the stairs again!"

"The mighty Dwalin, defeated by a flight of stairs," Ori grinned.

"Well, what about the time you fell through the door, Ori?"

This triggered a series of anecdotes about embarrassing or hilarious incidents (depending on your viewpoint) to be related for Kíli's benefit. Bilbo gazed around the table fondly. It was very much a dwarven party – completely uncivilised, loud, lots of food being thrown around the place, at somebody else's house, obviously, and with an incredibly happy atmosphere.

"So is your leg healed up then, Kíli?" Bilbo asked.

"Pretty much," Kíli answered, helping himself to a flagon of ale being passed around by Nori, who was walking down the table. "It's still a bit stiff, but I can walk on it."

"Good thing, too," Thorin cut in. "Given as how we're leaving tomorrow."

Kíli jumped just as he took a swig of ale, showering his face with foam. "What?"

"We're continuing our journey tomorrow. Did Fíli not mention it?"

Kíli turned around to face his brother, who shrugged and mouthed 'I forgot.'

"I suppose it's for the best," Oin said. "With Azog on our tail, it will be very hard to find the door discretely. Particularly if he, too, is prowling around the base of the mountain."

"Azog will not keep us from success," Thorin said calmly. "He may seek to disgrace us, but we will not run from him. We are not cowards. We will not stand idly by and pass up the best chance of retaking our homeland that will come around in this lifetime or the next because an oversized orc wishes to steal it from us. We will not allow any others to claim what is ours by right! With the wolves at our backs, we will not hide! They can take our blood, but they will not steal our home! Because Erebor is ours, and we will not have anybody other than the line of Durin sit in our throne!"

A/N: And so ends part 1! (Yes, I am doing it in parts now.) So very soon, they'll be on the road again – and by very soon, I mean next chapter. Now, just in case you were wondering, the incident with Dwalin falling down the stairs did actually happen – to me. Yes, it did take me five attempts to climb up a flight of stairs, something which my friends never cease to wind me up about. (In my defence, the French had some really bad medieval architects.)

Anyhoo, moving swiftly on from embarrassing stories about myself, I regret to announce that this is the end (for two weeks). I'm going now (to France, where I intend to surf, not to climb badly designed staircases, and also where there is no internet except in a cafe which I may or may not be able to go to a couple of times over the holiday, so don't expect any updates for a couple of weeks, but there may be a small tidal wave of them on the 14th/at a really random time during the two weeks). And I bid you all a very fond farewell. *Puts on ring and vanishes.*

Now, I'm off to write a couple of depressing chapters. All that hope and happiness at the end is making me queasy.