A/N

Before we begin, I would like to wish FiliandKiliatyourservice15 a massive HAPPY BIRTHDAY! This chapter is my gift for you! I hope you enjoy it and have a wonderful day J

So, let us begin!

It had been a long while since the red haired elf had left Fili alone, how long, however, he wasn't sure. A day, maybe creeping towards two. Sunlight didn't reach the depths of the Mirkwood dungeons, so there was no indication of time. The company had been brought food twice since being locked up, bowls of what Fili could only describe as porridge which had an odd leafy flavour. It tasted as if he'd taken a chunk out of a tree. He didn't have much of an appetite as it was, and after three spoonfuls he pushed the bowl back out through the iron bars, his nose scrunched up in mild disgust. The others had been, for the most part, almost completely silent, muttering briefly across the cells or loudly voicing their dislike for elves whenever the guards marched passed, shooting piercing glares through the bars. Fili however, said nothing. He remained slumped against the wall, resigned to a deep silence. Perhaps he deserved to be locked away in that cell. That's what they did to people who did misdeeds, wasn't it? Put them behind bars? As he sat, arms still resting on his pulled up knees, Kili's rune stone held tightly beneath curled fingers, he supposed the dungeon was a befitting place for someone who had let their brother die.

Soon, whilst still in his daze, he heard the other cells coming to life. Dwarves beginning to talk amongst themselves after waking up from their dozing – there was nothing else to do and they'd long since given up trying to break down the bars.

"I'll wager the sun is on the rise," Bofur said, sounding very fed up. "must be nearly dawn."

"We're never going to reach the mountain are we?" Came Ori's mouse-like voice. Never reach the mountain? Fili thought. He had been so busy stewing over his own self-pity that this notion had failed to register in his mind. They – he – had to reach Erebor. He had made a promise to his brother's spirit when they had left Beorn's home, when he whispered towards the morning sky, words being carried away on the breeze, that he'd continue on for him. That he would reach Erebor for the two of them. He had promised. And he didn't want to break another promise. But then came a familiar voice that made Fili jump to his feet with a start.

"Not stuck in here you're not." The voice said, accompanied with the jangling of keys.

"Bilbo!" Balin cried out in delight, wrapping his hands around the iron bars, beaming a great smile. The rest of the company began laughing happily.

"Shhh, there are guards nearby." The hobbit warned. Looking about him to make sure no sharp-eared elves had heard their shouts of glee as he began unlocking their prisons, running swiftly from cell to cell. Fili gave Bilbo the first genuine smile he could remember giving in some time. He had never been so glad to see their hobbit. His chance to keep his promise had returned.

Once every dwarf had been set free and after they had checked upon their kin, they began to move up, ushering one another forward.

"No, not that way." Bilbo said, before making his way down another stone staircase. "Down here, follow me." Down? That didn't seem right. Down would lead further into the deep halls of Mirkwood. But they didn't argue. They had seen most of the Elven Kingdom through the fabric of the hoods, only being able to make out shadows and distorted shapes, and had not been able to build their own map of the place. And so they followed him down the twisting stairs and through dimly lit halls, creeping as quietly as their heavy boots would allow, listening carefully to the sounds of the passageways. Before long, they filed into a large room, walls lined high with glass bottles. Grapes hung from hooks at orderly intervals. They came to a sudden stop when their eyes fell upon a pair of snoring elves, heads resting in their arms which were stretched out across a table. There was an obvious smell of wine. Fili thought that elves didn't get drunk, well not that drunk. They must have drunk enough wine to knock out half a dozen of any other race. "This way." Bilbo said quietly, waving the company towards him. Cautious of the two elves, who shifted where they snored, they crept towards him, passed huge drums of what could only contain the wine that the intoxicated elves hadn't drunk.

"I can't believe it," Nori hissed, looking about him more closely. "We're in the cellar!"

"You're supposed to be leading us out not further in." Bofur said.

"I know what I'm doing." Bilbo assured, brows knitting tightly together. "This way. Everyone climb into the barrels."

"Are you mad?" Dwalin growled, only just managing to keep his usually loud and booming voice in a whisper. "They'll find us."

"No, No. They won't, I promise. Please, you must trust me." The company muttered amongst themselves uncertainly, eyes studying the barrels lined up before them. Damn the stubbornness if dwarves, Bilbo thought before giving Thorin a pleading look.

"Do as he says." The exiled king ordered, Bilbo smiled thankfully and without further question or complaint the company climb into the barrels, grunting and groaning as they pulled themselves in and twisted about. It was an uncomfortably small space, even for a dwarf.

"What do we do now?" Bofur asked, poking his head out of his barrel. His hat slightly lopsided. The others peered out at the hobbit, shooting him questioning looks.

"Hold your breath."

"Hold my breath? What do you mean?" Bofur hardly managed to finish his sentence before Bilbo pulled down on a metal lever and the barrels began to roll away. The company cried out, hearts plummeting, as the barrels fell a small distance before landing in water with great splashes. They began to drift away, dark stone cliffs reaching up around them, encasing the river.

Fili gripped onto the edge of his barrel as it twisted and turned, sending water up to soak him. The company used their arms to pull themselves through the water, the channel only wide enough for one barrel at a time, keeping themselves straight as the current tried to push them against the cliffs. The tunnel coiled and weaved, and deep roots of trees penetrated through the rock, reaching down like jagged claws. Soon there came a blinding light which grew closer and closer, the water speeding up as they approached it.

"Hold on!" Yelled Thorin as the barrels tumbled over a waterfall. He only managed a quick glance of green trees and blue sky before he found himself beneath the surface of the river, water engulfing him. The river became like rapids, the barrels rocking and colliding with one another, the company struggling to keep them upright. There came the sound of a horn being blown; the elves had caught them up. Thorin willed the water to carry them faster, hoping that not even the swift footed elves would be able to keep up with a raging river. But they began to shout at one another in their own tongue, running towards an open gate which was the dwarves' way to freedom. Or at least it would have been if an elf hadn't sped forward, leaping up a small staircase and heaved the wooden lever down towards the ground. "No!" Thorin shouted as the gate clicked and groaned to a close, his barrel hitting the metal with a thud. He pressed his hands against it, as though he could push the gate back open. But it was locked. The dark haired dwarf groaned as the other barrels piled together, each colliding with the next and forcing the company to a stop. They were trapped, their way out blocked. Their escape halted.

Elves began to group on the high banks, staring down at the dwarves ready to attack or drag them back to the cells. Their armour glistening gold in the light, beams of sunlight reflecting off the intricately designed metal. But then one tumbled forward into the river, disappearing with a splash beneath the surface. There came a sound, an unmistakable sound, a growl from above the bridge. And all the elves' attention moved. Orcs.

"Watch out!" Bofur cried, orcs leaping over the walls, weapons flashing as they began to fight the elves, who dashed forward to meet them. The languages of the two races clashing. Thorin could only hear the commotion, the sounds of blade against blade, the snarling of orcs and the cruel Black Speech which called out over the sound of the elves' cries and rushing water. He craned his neck, trying to get a better view, but the bridge above him obstructed his sight, he was only able to catch fleeting glimpses and shadows. "Get under the bridge!" He called to the others, wanting to shield them from the battle and hoping that the space beneath the bridge was big enough to shelter all the barrels. But then the sound of the fight lessened and a voice called from the bank.

"Thorin Oakenshield!" It said. Thorin couldn't see the orc who it belonged to, the bridge blocking the speaker from view. "We have come to strike a bargain!"

"There is no deal I am prepared to make with orcs." He growled loudly back. He heard the orc chuckle.

"Oh really?" The clicking of fingers. Then the company fell into a stunned silence, apart from one member who screamed out.

"KILI!" Came Fili's voice. It was so small a word, just one word, but it overflowed with so much emotion that Thorin's heart crashed to a halt. At first he thought it was a mistake, Kili was dead, he had been for nigh on a fortnight. He was gone forever. But the sound of Fili's scream, the way the rest of the company stared disbelievingly towards the back, the way Balin turned to him, pale faced and mouth hanging open, told him it was true. Kili was there, just out of his view. Thorin wanted to push through the other barrels and drag his into the open, he needed to see his nephew. But the barrels were too tightly packed, and he remained trapped.

Fili almost collapsed inside his barrel, fingernails digging into the edge and scratching at the wood. His heart coming to such a sudden stop against his ribcage that it is a wonder it didn't crash through his chest. How could this be? It was another illusion, it had to be. His little brother was gone, killed. For two weeks he had mourned him. Yet there he was, stood upon the bank with his wrists bound before him, bruises and slashes crisscrossing over his bare chest. He looked ghostly pale in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the raven hair which clung to his face. He swayed on unsteady legs, and if it was not for the orc holding him up, he surely would have collapsed to his knees. The sight of him tore at Fili's heart. His little brother looked so thin - he could have counted his ribs - and so sickly. This couldn't be real.

"Your life for his!" Bolg called down.

"No…" Kili mumbled, hardly being able to keep his head high, his eyes out of focus and staring at nothing in particular, "…don't … don't do it."

"Silence, dwarfling!" The orc holding him growled, shaking him roughly. Kili let out a whimper at the action. Fili growled, his grip on the rim of the barrel so firm that his knuckles turned white.

"Unhand him, fifth!" He shouted. The orc sneered at him and the brother's eyes briefly met before Kili's became unfocused again, and flicked about him blankly. But in that brief moment, Fili had seen his little brother's brown irises, and he knew that this was no illusion. He really was there. This was no illusion being played by the Elven realm. Bolg kicked Kili in the leg, causing another yell to escape the blonde haired prince's lips, and the orc opened his mouth to speak again, back straight and chest swelling with gratification. But before he had chance to utter the first word an arrow whistled through the air, plunging itself deep into the other orc's shoulder who let out a shrill cry of pain, his grip on Kili failing as the dwarf slipped from his grasp and tumbled down the bank, landing close to the water's edge, eyes falling shut.

As soon as he came to rest and without a moment's hesitation, Fili leapt from his barrel and onto the hard ground. He pushed away an orc who reached to seize him and sped towards Kili, seeing nothing but his little brother, laying prone on the floor. Everything else around him ceased to exist.

"Gloin! Come on!" Dwalin cried, snatching up a dagger which had lodged itself in the side of his barrel and jumping away to protect the princes.

Fili skidded to a halt, falling to his knees once he had reached Kili's side. For a moment his hands hovered above him, afraid to reach out to him in case he should vanish, in case he wasn't real. In case none of it was real. But then Kili shifted ever so lightly and Fili took him into his lap, pushing messy dark hair from his face. He leaned in close, feeling cool air blow upon his as Kili exhaled. He placed a trembling hand on the side of his face, looking down at him, tears welling in his eyes. It was him. It was him. Kili. His baby brother was right there in his arms, alive and breathing. He smiled, trembling all over as he held him close to his chest. A tear fell from the Fili's chin and fell upon Kili's cheek, he wiped it away, thumb tracing below a sharp, methodical cut on his cheek.

"K…Kili." Fili stammered, shaking him gently. "Come on, brother, wake up." But Kili's eyes remained firmly shut. Fili needed to see them again, he needed to see those big brown eyes he had loved and missed so much.

"Fili. Lad." Dwalin said, stopping beside them. A little farther away, Gloin swung a stolen axe at an orc, sending it into the river.

"We have to get him in the barrel." Fili said, without taking his eyes off his brother. "Put him in mine with me."

"You won't both fit."

"We'll fit." He said firmly, he wasn't being separated from Kili again. Not even for a minute.

"Very well." Dwalin nodded. "Get in, I'll pass him to you." But Fili didn't move. He didn't want to let go. "It's alright." The warrior assured, kneeling down to meet the young prince's gaze which had flicked towards him.

"Okay." Fili let him slip his arms beneath his brother, holding onto him as he was lifted into the air. He ran a hand through Kili's hair, fingers briefly lingering on the ends of the strands, and jumped into his barrel. Gloin guarding them fiercely, Bofur threw a knife which wedged itself in the chest of an orc who was ready to spring down upon him.

Dwalin moved as softly as he could and as slowly as he dared as the orcs began congregate around them. He gazed down at the boy in his hold, shaken by how sickly he looked and how shockingly light he felt. But he was there. The dwarfling he had watched grow up, the one he secretly favoured for his mischievous and joyful demeanour, was there. Alive, despite what they had all believed. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly, but inside he cursed himself. Kili had been with them all this time, suffering with the orcs.

"Dwalin!" Fili's voice brought him back to the present and he gently passed Kili to his brother, who had his arms outstretched ready. The moment Fili's grip upon his sibling was secure, he sunk down to the bottom of his barrel, which rocked precariously. Dwalin let out a shaky breath. He looked towards the tunnel and the gate that was still firmly shut. They had to get it open, or Kili may be back in the orc's grasp before he was safely within that of the company's. The lever. It was unguarded as the elves had all ran to battle the intruding orcs.

"Gloin!" Dwalin called to the red haired dwarf. "Get in the barrel!" And, after another swipe of the axe, he did. Dwalin sprung forward, pulling himself onto the bridge and towards the wooden lever. Determination forced him onward, an orcish arrow narrowing missing his head as he reached the switch, pulling down upon it with all his might. It clicked and moved towards the ground, he heard the gate groan open. The line of barrels began moving forward. He watched as they began to disappear beneath the bridge, slipping away one by one, and just before his own followed, he leapt from the stone bridge and into it as the current pulled it onwards.

Fili took no notice of the fighting happening outside the barrel, the clashing of weapons and the shouts of the three races that fought along the river were muffled in his mind. The sound of his heartbeat boomed above all other. He could only focus on Kili. He arched his body forward, trying to shield his brother from the cold water that gushed over the top of the barrel. It was a tight squeeze but the two brothers managed to fit, Fili holding Kili like an infant in his lap, his brother's head on his shoulder. He stroked his dark, feeling his brother's steady breaths on his neck. He couldn't peel his eyes away from Kili's face, still in shock that he was actually there, actually wrapped in his arms, safely tucked within his hold. He could scarcely believe it, in fact he was afraid to believe it. He feared that any moment now an elf guard would tap on the cell bars and wake him from this dream to pass him another bowl of porridge. But with every one of those little breaths the fear faded, replacing it instead with joy. Kili stirred slightly, brows pulling together, as the barrel lurched forward and burrowed his face deeper into Fili's shoulder.

"It's alright, brother." The older sibling soothed, tightening his grip on him. "I'm here." Fili smiled as Kili fell still again and rested his chin atop his head, relishing in the sensation of the breaths upon his neck. He felt Kili grip his tunic, fingers digging into the fabric.

"I'm here."

-AN-

EEEEEEEEEE! HERE IT IS! OUR FAVOURITE BROTHERS ARE TOGETHER AGAIN!

I swear, I squealed like a little girl whilst writing most of this :') I can't believe I'm finally posting it, you guys have waited for it so eagerly! When I originally planned this story, this reunion was supposed to happen in like chapter 12 … but other ideas got in my head so … but yay!

Sooooooo, was it worth the wait?

But before you think "Yay! Happy ending!" … This is not the end. Oh no.

As usual, follows, faves and (especially) reviews are very much appreciated!