Fili's skin crawled as he climbed out of his barrel, still feeling the cold slim of the fish dribble down the back of his neck, making his hair thick and sticky. The smell was the worst part, it truly was a wonder how he hadn't thrown up, for he had retched a few times. He tried only to breath through his mouth, but many a time found the slim dribble over his lips. It was a great relief when he could finally climb out of his barrel, the air seeming much colder than it had before. He shuddered, he felt disgusting. Though, it made him feel much better when he saw that the rest of the company looked just as bad as he did. Ori, he thought, had turned very pale and Dwalin looked angry enough to burst, Fili had to stifle a laugh. He moved to the barrel beside his and moved the fish about to free his brother, who had a pained expression on his face. It was clear he was using all his strength not to be sick. Fili didn't need to stifle a laugh this time, because there wasn't one to stifle. He reached to take Kili under the arm.

"You alright, brother?" Kili dragged in a deep breath, eyes squeezing briefly shut. He exhaled.

"Just help me out of here." He said.

Once Kili's feet were firmly back on the deck of the barge he walked over to the side and finally threw up all the muck he had been holding in, his face scrunched up at the bitter, burning taste. He felt rotten and the slime from the fish and the fish guts didn't help.

"I thought you looked like you were going to be sick." Came his older brother's sympathetic voice. He felt his hair being gently pulled back from his face. He wretched again, his insides burning as they were expelled into the cold lake water. Fili ran a hand through his hair comfortingly, rubbing the space just below his shoulders with the other. Before long, Kili's retching was dry and scratchy and he stood hunched over and panting. He squeezed his eyes shut, blinking away the tears that had formed, and turned around, leaning back on the side of the barge. He felt Fili place a hand on the side of his face. "Better?" Kili sighed.

"I'm tired, Fee." He said. "I can't do this anymore, I just feel so …" Weak. Fili reached down and grabbed the tattered blanket and used it to wipe the fish slime and sweat from his brother's face. How frail looking he had become. How unsteady he stood. How so unlike the brother he had left the Blue Mountains with.

"Not much longer, nadadith. The mountain is close, Dale is closer. Gandalf will be there." Kili stared at him, uncertainty in his dark eyes. His too dark eyes. Fili missed the sparkle. He wrapped a hand around the back of his brother's head and pulled him closer so Kili could burry his face in his shoulder. "I'm not giving up on you." He gripped him tighter, "not ever." He felt Kili relax against him and ran a hand through his hair, feeling it tangled and thick.

"Is he alright?" Fili glanced up, still holding Kili to him, to see Bard looking at them.

"Like we said, he's not well. And you're whole trick with the fish didn't help." He glared.

"It was that or you'd have been found out and he could be unwell in a cell, no one would try to make him better in there." Fili nodded, supposing he was right. "We need to go. Quickly, before you're spotted." Bard went to turn away but stopped and stared at Kili with concern. "Untie him." He said. Kili's eyes widened and he looked at his brother desperately. They couldn't untie him, they couldn't! Not now they were in Laketown, a place full of people, innocent people, that he, that the necromancer, could harm. They couldn't, they couldn't. Fili looked at him, at his silent and desperate plea.

"No," he said, shaking his head. Bard frowned. "It's for his own good, for his own safety."

"Untie him, or leave him."

"What?" Fili stared at the man with a hard glare. Leave him? He couldn't be serious. The blonde prince opened his mouth to speak again but Thorin, who had strode over, spoke first.

"Why are we waiting, we need to go." His brow furrowed as he took in the expressions of the three people before him. "What's wrong?"

"He wants us to untie Kili." Fili answered flatly, eyes still locked on Bard who had crossed his arms over his chest. Thorin glanced at Kili, still leaning against the side of the barge and looking worryingly sickly. And fearful.

"We can't, he has to stay bound for …"

"His own safety." Fili interrupted. "We told you, his fever makes him see things and he fights, we can't risk him hurting himself." Kili let his eyes fall. If only that was the truth, he thought. It wasn't for his safety, it was for everyone else's. It wasn't himself he could hurt, it was the people around him. His brother, his uncle, his friends, Bard, the whole of Laketown. He didn't want to be responsible for killing an entire town, something he knew the Necromancer was more than capable of.

"You are coming to my house, where my children are, I don't want them afraid. If he comes into my home with his hand bound like … like a criminal, then they will be afraid." Bard said, his voice steely, resolute. "He is unbound or left behind in the cold." His face was so stern, so hard it was as though his features had been carved into stone, his features etched into a permanent unyielding and forbidding look. A tough statue to deter thieves and other crooks. Leave me, Kili thought. He looked directly into his brother's blue eyes now, as though hoping he could read his thoughts, this is another chance, leave me. But Fili couldn't read his thoughts, or if he could chose not to. Fili was not leaving his brother.

"Fine." He grumbled. Kili's shoulders fell. No, no, no.

"You can't." He said, his voice pleading. But Fili didn't listen and crouched down to unwind the elvish rope from his wrists. When their eyes met again, the elder brother saw betrayal in the younger's eyes.

Kili felt like he was floating, his muscles weightless as they walked, the world spinning, the buildings about him warping and swaying, leaning so far that they looked like they were about to topple into the lake. In the bitter air of Laketown, a dreary looking place that stank of fish and garbage, where the people's faces were sunken and grey, he suddenly felt much worse. He looked away from the buildings around him, their unnatural swaying making his stomach churn. Kili, ran his hand along the walls, every now and again pushing against them to stop him from falling to the ground, and kept his heavy eyes on his feet as they walked, carefully, around the back of the houses, Bard said they were unlikely to get caught if they kept low and close to the walls. The back-streets were quiet at this time, he had said. Kili groaned, his head hurt. It more than hurt, it felt like it was about to explode. Every step he took, every sound, no matter how small – even just a bird – struck his skull like an iron hammer, the pain spreading to each muscle, to each bone, until it hurt to even breathe. Every inhale and exhale made it feel as though his ribs were breaking. His legs began to shake beneath him, each step more unsteady than the last, until he dropped to his knees, body bending awkwardly forward.

"Kili!" He head his brother cry. He sounded so far away. Why did he sound so far away? Kili knew he was on his knees, he could feel the cold, damp wood of Laketown against his legs, but he felt as though he was still falling. Falling, falling, falling. Fili was knelt before his brother to catch him as he crashed against him, forehead against his shoulder. "Kili." He could hear, could feel, his younger brother's quick and ragged breaths on his neck, feel the way his body shuddered with each breath, feel the way it shivered with the cold. He bunched his fists into Kili's tunic and pushed the sides of them against his chest, pushing Kili upright. Kili's head hung down, hair limp in front of his face. "Kee? Hey, look at me." Kili groaned weakly, and tried to lift his head, but it felt so heavy, his entire body felt heavy. It was all he could do to remain upright when his brother let go of him to place his hands beneath his chin, tilting his head up for him. "Kili? Brother?" Kili didn't reply, simply mumbled incoherently.

"What's wrong?" Thorin asked, knelt beside them now, his brow furrowed with concern. He looked from one nephew to the other. Fili placed the back of his hand against Kili's forehead, wincing at the heat. It was like holding his hand inches from a blazing fire.

"He's burning up, he feels like an oven." But his brother shivered, violently, nonetheless in the icy chill that wrapped around Laketown. He stroked a thumb across Kili's cheek. "Look at me," He said. But Kili's eyes were only half open, the irises beneath his lids staring downwards in a daze.

"Why have we stopped?" A voice demanded, "we cannot afford to linger." It was Bard. He had been walking ahead, leading the way through the narrow and dingy streets, only to stop when the footsteps behind him ceased. He stood above them now, what had been a look of impatience turning into one of concern, genuine concern, as he stared down at Kili. He pursed his lips.

"He's getting worse." Thorin said. "How much further? I do not think he can walk much more."

"It's close, just around this corner here." Bard shifted, "but my house is being watched. You may have to use … another means of getting in."

"What other means?"

This day, Bilbo thought, just kept getting worse. First the fish – the slime from which had made his hair greasy and matted – and now the company were climbing through what was essentially the Bargeman's sewer. At the very mention of Bard's alternate means the company had exploded into loud and disgruntled objections. They seemed most offended by the very suggestion. Bilbo couldn't blame them, though. Climbing through a toilet was not a particularly attractive idea. But, the hobbit supposed, it couldn't be too much worse than the fish, even if it was much more humiliating. It was, however, the only way. Unless they wanted to get caught. And so they did as they were told. After they managed to get Kili to his feet. Looking at the lad, Bilbo thought they would have to carry him. He looked so tired and Bilbo heart ached for him. The Kili that had came to his door in Bag End, who mispronounced his name and began the singing at his home was merely a ghost now. But Kili, with a little help from Fili and Thorin steeled his features and rose to stand, sucking in a deep, steadying breath. Bilbo smiled, the boy sure was persistent. There was iron in him yet.

It didn't take long for the company to climb up and into Bard's home, the bargeman's three children looking incredibly bemused at the peculiar sight. Bilbo was quite sure they'd never had anyone climb out of their toilet before, let alone thirteen dwarves and a hobbit. They had stood silent and with their mouths hanging ever so slightly open as the company filled past them. Bilbo offered them a smile as he walked past, the youngest – a girl – smiling back with wide brown eyes. Bard's home was small and dim, littered with pots and pans and various items, fishing nets hung from the ceiling with boxes stored within them. But it was warm and dry and didn't smell of fish.

Fili dabbed his brother's forehead with a damp cloth, the cool water running in small rivulets down his grey-white face. Kili had fallen asleep almost as soon as they'd lay him down on the bed and now he lay shifting uncomfortably and murmuring nonsensically with his brows pulling together. Fili had anchored himself on the bed beside him, face creased with concern as he ran his free hand through Kili's dark hair, soft words spilling over his lips comfortingly. Sometimes he hummed a tune from their childhood, his brother turning his head towards the sound and features relaxing for a little while.

"How is he?" Fili looked up to see Thorin. He sighed and shook his head.

"Worse, much worse." He said. His uncle perched himself on the edge of the bed. "This cloth doesn't seem to be doing anything to bring his temperature down."

"Oin is working on something that may help, it should be ready soon." Fili nodded and looked down at his brother's sickly face.

"Do you think we'll reach the overlook in time? Do you think we'll find Gandalf? I was sure we would but he's so unwell, and getting sicker, and now I just don't know."

"I hope so, nephew, I really do." Thorin reached out and took Kili's had in his, running a thumb over the back of it, he felt it warm and clammy. "With any luck the medicine Oin is working on will break his fever and we can get our provisions and move on."

"I hope it works, he can't fight the…" Fili paused and glanced at Bard, who was stood beside Oin offering his aid wherever he could. "… he can't fight in this state." Fili's brows creased pensively as he stared down at his unwell younger brother, at Kili's thin, pale face. "Do…do you suppose that this fever is the necromancer's doing? That he's weakening Kili so that he can't fight him?" He asked. Thorin looked at him and then at Kili and frowned. It was a reasonable assumption. Kili had only seemed to become feverish just before the Necromancer first presented himself. Before that Kili had been quite well, indeed he had been tired, unfocused and unsteady, but he hadn't been this sick. And since the first … attack, his youngest nephew's health had decreased quite considerably. Thorin shrugged and pursed his lips.

"I don't know, perhaps." He heard Fili sigh before he submerged the cloth back into the still cool water in the bowl beside the bed. Thorin watched him ring it out and place it back on his brother's forehead, dabbing it gently. Kili stirred slightly, a tightly closed fist bunching up the bed covers beneath him. He groaned and shook his head weakly.

"Hush, brother." Fili soothed, leaning in close and brushed the back of his knuckles along Kili's cheek. "It's alright." Thorin smiled a little. His eldest nephew was like two different people. One, a brave, fierce warrior, steely and determined. The second was the person he saw before him; an attentive older brother, fearful and pale with worry for his sibling, with soft hands you'd never suspect of wielding a weapon. Fili's never-waverinng love and vigilance for his younger brother had always been something which Thorin admired. It was clear to him, and to all others, that in his heart Fili knew he was a brother first and everything else came after – including being a prince.

Kili had stilled by the time Oin came over, a bowl in hand. With one look at Kili, prone and pale on the bed, the old healer's face creased even more. But it only creased for a few quick moments before he smiled at the other two dwarves and held up the bowl.

"This may help." He said.

"I think we're on our own trying to get that down him." Fili said, taking the cloth from his brother's forehead and placing it down on the rickety wooden table beside the bed. "He's out cold."

"We could try to rouse him." Thorin suggested.

"No, let him be. This stuff won't taste the best. We'll make do." The elder dwarf nodded. As Oin went to sit on the edge of the bed, Fili shifted to prop Kili against him. Kili groaned out a few indecipherable words but stayed otherwise still. Under Oin's instruction, though he didn't really need it, he held his brother as still as he could while the healer rose the bowl to his cracked lips tipping the medicine into his mouth bit-by-bit, Thorin applying gentle pressure to Kili's throat, rubbing it with his fingers in small circles to encourage the lad to swallow. Kili's brows pulled together as he tried to turn his face away from the nasty taste, dribbles of the liquid rolling over his chin.

"Drink it, nadadith, it will make you better." Fili said into his ear. Oin titled the bowl a little more and Thorin encouraged Kili to take another swallow. The process seemed to be going smoothly as the bowl of medicine gradually emptied. But then Kili spluttered and gasped and coughed, pulling away from it, deep creases on his brow. He coughed again. Oin took the bowl away and put it down on the table with a clatter.

"He's choking, lean him forward." He instructed. Fili did as the older dwarf instructed as the healer beat his palms against his brother's back. "Cough it up, lad." Fili ran a hand through Kili's hair as his dry, raspy coughs continued. A few moments passed before the younger dwarf collapsed back against him, body shaking as he took long, deep breaths. His head tilted back against Fili's shoulder.

"There we are Kee, it's alright." Fili soothed.

"We'll leave it there." Oin said, lacing his fingers in his lap, "We got some down him. We'll try again later." He nodded once and smiled, Thorin thanked him as the grey haired dwarf rose to his feet before walking away from the bed, leaving the three alone again.

"Is he alright?" The youngest of Bard's children, Tilda, asked as Oin sat down. Her brown eyes stared across the room as Fili shifted to lay Kili down flat again, brushing his dark hair from his face.

"He's very sick." Oin sighed, "But he'll get better." Beside him, Gloin placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Oin smiled weakly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Have some tea," Sigrid, the eldest child, offered, "freshly brewed." She smiled brightly and passed a chipped mug to the old dwarf who took it with a grateful nod. "Do you suppose they'd like some?" She nodded her head in the direction of Fili and Thorin who were talking quietly to one another.

"I doubt it, lass." It was Balin, his own mug of tea steaming in his hands. He had his fingers wrapped around it, the heat of the drink warming his palms.

"They're family?" She asked.

"Yes, uncle and nephews." Balin nodded. He took a sip of the tea. He wanted to go over, offer some sort of reassurance, saddened to see Kili, usually so full of life, so unwell. But instead he stayed sat where he was, watching them intently, the tea warming him.

Kili felt red hot pain, it spread through his body like flames as he lay in the dark. It came from his head, and pulsed around his muscles and bones with each heartbeat. He wanted it to stop but it continued, a constant, unrelenting agony.

Kili.

He couldn't move. It was is if he was being held in place by invisible hands.

Kili. Kili.

The ghostly voice slithered out of the darkness from all directions. It was the only cold thing in this shadowy place.

Hello Kili. I'm coming. There's no escape this time.

Kili felt his heart begin to race, the pain seizing at his lungs. It felt like someone had stuck a hot poker through his lungs and he was breathing in bits of the scolding iron.

You will be mine. Forever.

"Kili?! Kili?!"Fili shook his brother, who thrashed on the bed, heels digging into the sheets. He twisted and trembled, crying out and fighting against something that wasn't there. "Wake up! Kili! Wake up!" Panic gripped Fili like a vice. Until a few moments ago, his brother had been completely still, only shivering from the fever. And then he began struggling, shaking his head weakly and repeating the word no over and over. This sudden change startled Fili who immediately leaned over his brother, face creased with worry. Beside him Thorin had climbed further onto the bed, trying to hold him still. "Kili!" And then Kili shot up into a sitting position, eyes wide and a scream of pure agony escaping his lips.

-AN-

Oh no, the Necromancer is returning and poor Kili is very sick. I think sh*t is about to hit the fan.

This chapter has been a long time coming (which is why it may seem a little rushed - but I wanted to get this bit up before I go home for Christmas break) and I'm sorry, I am a top procrastinator and cannot, for the life of me work to deadlines. Maybe that can be my new year's resolution.

As usual, faves, follows and (especially) reviews are appreciated, I LOVE hearing from you guys!