4
"KÍLI!"
Thorin held out a hand in vain to try and stop the retreating figure of Kíli, a vaguely familiar panic rising in his chest. Not again... Oh, please, not again...
Images flashed through his mind of the last time Kíli had run off without a thought for his own safety. The pony trotting into Rivendell's courtyard, its flank stained red with blood... Kíli being cast at his feet by Azog... Fíli clutching his barely conscious form, broken to the point where he feared his nephew was beyond repair...
He didn't think he could bear it if it all happened again.
He was brought abruptly back to the present by a second figure rushing past him.
"Fíli!" Thorin grasped at Fíli's back, his hands closing around thin air as Fíli disappeared into the forest.
His shout was echoed around the camp, and Thorin flung a hand out just in time to stop Bilbo from doing for Fíli what Fíli had done for Kíli.
"NO!" Thorin pulled Bilbo back, his eyes following Fíli's path until he could no longer make out either of his nephews in the dark. This could not be happening again...
"Do we follow them?" Balin asked.
It seemed like a lifetime ago when this had last happened. He had made so many wrong decisions then, and Kíli had paid the price for them. Now, confronted with the prospect of losing both his nephews – those whom he'd sworn to his sister to protect...
"Thorin!"
This time, they're together.
But we may never see them again.
It may not end like last time.
But the chances are that it will.
"Thorin! Do we follow them?"
The words of Gandalf and Beorn came back to him. "If you stray from the path, you will probably never find your way again, lost forever in the depths of Mirkwood."
He knew that if he left them now, he would probably never see Fíli or Kíli again.
But if he left the path now to follow them, he would probably never see Erebor again.
They're together.
He had to think of the quest.
This had happened before. And he'd made the wrong decision before. And he made the same decision as last time.
"We continue on," Thorin finally said. "We cannot risk the chance of reclaiming Erebor for the sake of two."
In his heart, he knew he'd made the wrong choice.
Kíli didn't know how far he'd gone before he finally came to a small clearing, when he suddenly came to a halt, his energy completely drained. He collapsed down onto the floor, his face buried in his hands.
Sobs wracked his body as his memory shot back to the scene he'd just fled. He'd tried so hard to listen to Thorin's words, but he'd found that he couldn't take his eyes off Thorin's face. The mess that the scar had made.
That he'd made.
His heart clenched as comprehension hit him – he was capable of doing that. He had done that to one he loved. One he'd loved his whole life, his kin.
He'd made the right decision, hadn't he? If he could do that to Thorin, how easy would he find it to attack Balin, or Bilbo, or one of the others... His heart seemed to freeze painfully as he thought of Fíli with a scarred face.
He'd seen the fear rise in Thorin's eyes, he'd seen the horrified realisation in his uncle's visage just before he'd ran like the coward he was, but one day, Thorin would realise that it was for the better...
Perhaps...
It suddenly dawned on Kíli just how alone he was. True, he feared what else he would do if he was still with the company, but here, now, alone, he suddenly realised just how quiet it was. Silence pressed against his ears, deafening, loud silence. Mirkwood was never silent. True, nobody had seen hide nor hair of another creature since they entered, save for the eyes, but you could always hear the forest teeming with life. Good life, bad life, it was always there, disturbing his sleep. With the others, he'd found the endless rustling scary, but now, alone, without it, the silence that replaced it was more terrifying than he could have imagined.
Suddenly, he heard a twig snap from behind him. He shot up to his feet, his eyes scanning the dark for any sign of what could have snapped the twig, but nothing showed itself.
It's probably nothing... Probably just a squirrel or something...
His pathetic attempt to calm himself fell flat, as his eyes shot around the clearing. It probably was just a squirrel, but his mind filled itself with images of monsters, praying on stragglers in the dark of Mirkwood, as he wondered just what it was that could make Mirkwood so completely still...
The hair began to prickle up on the back of his neck as his mind went into overdrive. His eyes shot up and down over the shadows of trees, scanning the ground for some sign of what it was out there... What had he heard from the stories? Ungoliant. Giant spiders. Was that what was out there?
Somehow, putting a face to the monster in the dark calmed him. He knew what he was up against, didn't he? Spiders he could deal with.
Unless the stories were wrong...
He'd seen spiders crawl around the forest floor. Looking down now, he could see nothing. No insects creeping over the leaves. His eyes scanned the trees. There were usually webs on every second tree, but here, now... nothing...
If giant spiders are nearby, why would the little spiders flee?
A twig behind him snapped, and he fled once again into the forest. His eyes flew left and right as he ran, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever hidden horror it was that was making this part of the forest so quiet. He had no idea if it was spiders – or something else.
Kíli slowed to a halt as he broke into another clearing, straining his ears to catch some sound. He strained his ears over the silence, but whether he hoped to hear something or nothing was a question he couldn't answer. Yet as he strained his ears, he could have sworn he'd heard, dimly, in the distance...
No. The water must still have left some form of after-effect. He could not have heard that voice.
Azog could not be in Mirkwood.
He was quite as alone as he had been the first time he'd encountered the pale orc – just as alone, and just as unarmed. In his rush to leave, he hadn't taken anything. He just needed to get away from them all, before he could do any more damage. But he found himself wishing he was back there.
And he hated himself for it.
Yet he couldn't stop the cry from leaving his lips.
"Fíli?" he called out, his voice cracking through the unnatural silence.
He stepped backwards, his hands rising to his mouth. It was only then that he realised he was shaking. He staggered backwards towards the edge of the clearing – he could not endanger his brother, he was unsafe, he was a monster, he'd proven that time and time again – first with Thardin, and then with Thorin. He didn't need Fíli's blood on his hands...
He suddenly became very aware of his surroundings once again, and had a horrible feeling something was behind him. His breath was coming in short, jagged gasps.
"Help me…" he gasped. "Oh please, Mahal, NO!"
He spun around, and found himself face to face with...
A tree.
He let out a breath as he stepped away from it. It's only a tree. It's only a –
His reassurances to himself were cut short by the sound of footsteps crunching on leaves behind him, that he knew in his heart that he hadn't imagined. He froze, as the steps came closer and closer to him...
He stepped forwards, preparing to run, before his foot caught on a tree root and he was sent sprawling into the dirt. Unwanted tears spilled from his eyes as every emotional wall he'd built since his reunion with his brother came crashing down, and he rolled over, curling up in a childish attempt to protect himself as the sound of steel against leather rang out in the darkness.
"Kíli!" Fíli screamed out as he ran after his brother. He'd tried to keep him in sight, but it had not taken long for the dark hair to mingle with the surrounding blackness as Kíli had sprinted ahead. However, he was thankful that his brother was not making any attempt to cover his tracks. It made him far easier to follow.
By me and anyone else.
He suppressed the unbidden thought as it sprang to the forefront of his mind. He had seen the speed Kíli had taken off at, running as though Sauron himself was behind him. Though how long Kíli would be able to keep up the pace was a mystery to him.
Please... Mahal, keep my brother safe...
He'd already lost Kíli twice. He couldn't lose him again.
It felt like at least an hour had passed before he finally staggered into a clearing – completely deserted. But Kíli had been here, Fíli could see that. But he couldn't run anymore. He needed some time to recover his breath – even if only a minute. He fell to the floor, hating every second he spent idle. Kíli was out there in the forest, unarmed, and he was lying down, recovering his strength. His mind seemed to spit out those words at him like they were poison.
It seemed to take an age before his breathing returned to normal. He staggered to his feet, preparing himself to continue the chase, when he suddenly heard a voice that made his blood freeze.
"Well, look what we have here."
Fíli didn't get a chance to turn before he felt the tip of a sword dig into the small of his back.
A/N: Sorry about that ending... I know it was cruel...
Actually, no, scratch that. I'm not sorry at all. Well, maybe a bit. And I'm sorry about Kíli's experiences in the forest. I don't think I did it justice. I really wasn't sure how to write it, but I really wanted Kíli to have a psychotic breakdown at some point, and Mirkwood seemed like the best place to do it. Unfortunately, that meant I had to write it from his point of view, and it took some doing to get inside his head. I have no idea if this is accurate or not, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway.
Anyway, thank you all for the reviews of the last three chapters! I'm glad people enjoyed the opening of part 2, but now we're really getting to the exciting bits, which you should hopefully enjoy even more!