Disclaimer: The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings and all characters therein are the property of the Tolkien Estate and Wingnut Films. This story is for entertainment only and the author is in no way profiting from it, nor exercising any claims to The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings.

Author's Notes: First, for those of you who noticed that I stopped the Thursday updates – April and May are the busiest months at my work, with about 20,000 school kids, so please bear with me while I am slower in the updates!

Second, this chapter is dedicated to Jessie152, who requested a chapter from Therin's point of view. Thank you so much for all your thoughtful comments!

Third, this is a slightly revised version of the chapter, hopefully clearing up a misunderstanding pointed out by Tweetzone86 in the second paragraph. Thank you!

35. Another Perspective

Therin, self-titled Prince of Nowhere, looked up dejectedly from where he sat on the stone floor of his small cell, idly wondering if it was time to eat again. Not that such an event was anything to look forward to, given rabbit food the way he was. It was typical fare for prisoners, a subtle insult to remind them that their actions had made them no better than elves. It was disgusting, insulting, and degrading.

Footsteps approaching his corner told him it must be time, and he sighed, heaving himself to his feet to accept the meager offerings through the bars only to find himself facing the stern visage of Vili, son of Fíli the Elder, instead. How ironic that he, the youngest of the brothers, should bear a name of royal lineage while his older siblings, Fili and Kili, were named for their paternal grandfather! He had even heard one or two Erebor dwarrow mistake the other two princes for Vili's children, instead of the offspring of Vili's younger brother, Vidri.

"Father!"

He was so shocked that the young dwarf completely forgot that he was not to speak unless spoken to. Neither his father nor the ever present guard rebuked him, though, in many ways making the transgression worse. To have his father see him here, like this… Well, there was only one person Therin could think to have staring through bars at him that would have knotted his gut more.

"Thorin gave permission for me to speak with him."

Vili addressed the guard, who grunted and moved several steps further away. He then turned his attention back to his wayward son.

"Why, Therin? Why would you do such a thing, and to your own brother? I had hoped your mother and I, and Bilbo, had raised you better than that."

Therin flushed, ducking his head to avoid seeing the disappointment and rebuke on his parent's face. Then an even more distressing thought struck him. One hand tried to discretely swipe away the threatening tears.

"Is Mother here, too?"

Heart sinking, he did not need the older dwarf's nod to know the answer. It was as well his meal had not come; he would have been hard pressed to keep anything down right now, let alone that slop.

"She's with Kíli."

Of course she was. It only made sense, as he was the one in danger, still, so why did that make him flush with resentment? Was he truly still that jealous and petty?

"How is he? They won't tell me anything."

Tears stung his eyes at that, and he did not bother to wipe them away. He still cared about his brothers, and the not knowing was the worst torment. Sitting alone for so many hours had given him plenty of time to remember all of the good days with his brothers, the kind gestures the two had made, even when he did not deserve their regard. Sparring with Fíli, or giving him background on a particular dwarf that Therin knew but the 'new' princes did not; working on his archery skills or walking the mines with Kíli. When had everything gone so wrong that he would willingly hurt his family like this? Kíli had not even looked alive the last he had seen of him, though his chest rose and fell where he lay in Dwalin's arms!

A swarm of healers had descended upon the rescue party the moment that they set foot in camp, most focusing on Kíli, but a few breaking away to survey the rest of the group for injuries. Among them had been the twin elves that Therin had noted seemed to go about the place as if they had a right to be there, coming and going from Lothlorien to Khazad-dûm at random times.

One of the healers, a rough Firebeard who looked old enough that he might have fought at Anzanulbizar the first time, had at least taken the time to dress the cuts Therin had acquired. He had also delivered a blistering lecture about responsibility to the sullen dwarf before none too gently shoving him back into his cell with an order to alert the guard should he become feverish. Had he not then turned as brusquely to Einarr, Therin might have been even angrier at such treatment.

That had been almost a day ago, most of which Therin had spent dozing as nightmares jolted him awake again and again with images of dwarrow being skinned alive or bitten by vipers, flesh melting from their bodies. It was enough to make a hardened warrior vomit, so Therin had not even been eating what little he was offered. Unsurprisingly, such an avoidance had brought the return of the old goat, and Therin found himself swearing to eat every scrap of his next meal just to get the healer to leave him alone.

"Kíli is alive."

His father's flat statement broke the younger dwarf from his thoughts to retake his seat with a huff, trying to surreptitiously wipe the new sweat from his forehead. Someone might have had the consideration to tell him that!

"Though the healers cannot break the high fever he suffers from. If they can do so, they believe he may yet make a full recovery."

Therin blinked back the tears that prickled his eyes again, fists clenching at the relief he felt coupled with renewed anger. Was this all it took to reduce him to a sniveling child? How could he have been so stupid? What was it that Bilbo had always told him?

"Use that head for more than growing hair, me boy!"

It had always been delivered in a light tone with a wink, one hand affectionately ruffling his hair, but with just a hint of sternness. How he missed his hobbit uncle! At least no one had dared say he was less of a dwarf for the high regard he held Bilbo Baggins in! In fact, several of his contemporaries had been rather jealous themselves at the sight of him ambling through the market with his elderly companion.

"What were you thinking, Therin?"

His father demanded again, and this time he was honest enough to answer.

"I wasn't. I just-"Therin paused, searching his soul for a way to articulate the conflict inside, "I wanted someone to hurt as much as I did, and Kíli was so… smug. The dwarf who's every hammer stroke turned iron to mithril. The wise prince, strong warrior despite crippling wounds won honorably in battle, King's councilor, guardian of the symbol of our bloodline, friend to our burglar, wanted-"His laugh was painfully bitter. "Everything I'm not, and can't be."

"Do you truly think so little of Therin that the only way he can find worth is to tear others down?"

"Therin!" He spat out his own name as he would the vilest curse. "And who is that, Father? How can an illusion have worth?"

He knew such a statement would fuel his father's exasperation with him, but he no longer cared. It was time someone else had to hear truths they did not like, to understand his side in all this. Sure enough, Vili scoffed, settling himself on the other side of the bars.

"And just what is that supposed to mean? Therin is a sturdy young dwarf of Durin's Line, heir to his uncle, the King of Khazad-dûm, brother to Fíli and Kíli, Princes of Erebor, and LIs, Lady of Aglarond. He is the son of Vili and Dis, who love him deeply, even when he exasperates them. He is a friend of hobbits, a fine, though untried, warrior, and a future leader of our people, if he would ever learn to use his-"

"Stop it!"

He snarled, unheeding of the newly alarmed guard inching closer. He had felt the anger growing inside during that pretty recitation, scorching his blood and tinging his vision red until he shot to his feet, hands curling around the cold metal keeping him caged.

"Just stop it! Can you not hear your own words? You describe Therin by what he is to others- heir, nephew, son, prince- without ever once saying what I am! A warrior? Hardly! What true warrior would be required to hide in the core of the mountain with the children as even the dwarrowdams answer the call to defend our home against a siege? An heir? An empty word when it comes with no responsibilities and cannot even be publically acknowledged! I notice you did not say craft master as it was judged that a supposed prince was above such ordinary work! Was that not what Dain told me when I begged leave to take an apprenticeship upon returning from the Shire, desperate for something to do? But I could not be allowed even that, could I? I am nothing!"

Therin screamed the last three words than sank down, suddenly exhausted, sweat trickling down his face mixing with the hot, angry tears. He tucked his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them, hiding his red face in his knees, hoarse voice muffled.

"I am nothing. Nothing but an outline, to be filled in as others desire at the moment, then erased again. Let uncle do what he will with me, I shan't be missed."

A hand settled on his shoulder and he shrugged it off, leaning out of reach.

"Leave me alone, Father. Go find my brothers. At least you can be proud to be related to them!"

"Therin…"

It was a gentle exasperated chiding, which only made the anger surge weakly back to the surface. How many times had he heard that tone over the years, as if his feelings had no validity? He was tired of giving in, of being in the wrong, of changing himself to be what they wanted!

"Go away!"

"Fine." Vili's tone was now tight with anger of its own. "But Kíli is alive, which means you cannot be held any longer if you give your word of honor to submit to proper punishment."

Therin knew what his father wanted him to say, but he did not respond nor move to look at him. A hand settled on his shoulder again, but this time the grip was too tight to be easily dislodged, fingers biting into his muscle.

"Answer me, young dwarf. Will you give it?"

Therin sneered to himself at that, stung that even his own father seemed to be siding against him, requiring such a thing of him. Did he not know Therin would abide by his honor without asking? Vili was his father, not Fíli and Kili's! His!

"Whatever."

It was impudent and dismissive, the answer of a spoiled, sullen child. If he had hoped it would anger his parent enough to make him leave, however, he was disappointed.

"Whatever what, Therin?"

Vili grated out, tone cold. That finally brought his head up to meet the other's eyes again, Durin blue as chilly as the ice on the mountain top.

"Whatever I need to do to make you leave me alone! You have my word of honor, are you satisfied?"

"No."

There was a deep hurt there, and Therin cursed himself for lashing out once again, especially at one who had only ever tried to help him. Why was he acting as if he were forty? It was not Vili who had put him in this situation!

"I'm sorry." He whispered, hiding his face again, "I can't do anything right. You can tell Thorin I will abide by my word of honor."

His shoulder was given another squeeze, then a heavy sigh sounded from outside his cell and his father was gone, leaving the young dwarf sunk once more in a misery of his own making.