Part 5: Future Perfect

And Kili wept.

He made no sound with it, bar the occasionally choked-off sigh. In fact, he made no sound at all, neither in Common nor in Black Speech, nor yet did he raise his hands in iglishmek. He simply sat with tears streaming down his cheeks and stared, and Bilbo would perhaps have been more concerned than he was, except that he remembered how Kili had seemed to be completely absent after their escape from Lake-Town, and this did not seem half so bad as that. Kili did not speak, but he could sometimes be coaxed into nodding or shaking his head, and it was clear that he recognised Bilbo and Fili and kept his eyes on them when they were in the tent.

And they always were in the tent, for Fili would not be parted from his brother, but sat behind him all night, and Bilbo found himself quite unable to bear untangling Kili's fingers from his sleeve, and so eventually he crawled up onto the bed, too, and slept rather uncomfortably, half in Kili's lap.

And when he woke, Kili was weeping still.

The elves were quite disconcerted by it all. Certainly Kili was physically injured - he had been beaten rather brutally and was a mess of bruises, especially on his left side, and his knee seemed to be troubling him again - but there was nothing they could find that would explain why he did not speak, and why he could not seem to stop crying. Fili eventually cajoled them into admitting that there was no reason to keep him in the tent any longer, provided he would not be left alone and that someone would endeavour to feed him broth at regular intervals to replace the water and salt he was losing through his constant tears, and since of course there was no chance at all of Kili being left alone, and since both Fili and Bilbo would have fed him broth all day and all night if they could, for they wished only to be able to do something to help, the elves had no option but to let them go.

They went back to the mountain. Fili barked orders without once letting go of his brother, until they found themselves installed in a little chamber that was mostly free of rubble and seemed stable. It was in the outer part of the kingdom, and there were light wells in the walls, which made Bilbo feel a little less like he was buried deep underground. They set up a makeshift bed in the corner with trestles and mattresses and blankets given to them by the men and elves, and Fili climbed onto it and pressed himself into the corner, pulling his brother in to lean on his chest and wrapping an arm around him, though gently, mindful of his bruises. It was quiet, for most of the able-bodied were still occupied at the battlefield in the north, and although the healers had begun to bring some of the less-injured dwarves back to the safety of the mountain fastness, the kingdom was still largely echoing and empty. Bilbo filled up the silence with chatter, and though Fili's face was pale and strained, he smiled and even chuckled here and there, and put in a comment or two of his own, and Kili seemed to listen, though he did not speak.

And yet still he wept.

On the evening of the day after the battle, when Kili had been weeping for a night and a day and showed no signs of stopping, there came a knock at the door of the little chamber. By now, Bilbo was beginning to feel a little more concerned, if only because it was difficult to persuade Kili to drink the broth that the healers left regularly outside the door, and he often choked on it when he did. And Fili had grown quieter as well by this time, no longer so quick to smile, his arm a little more tightly wrapped around his brother. In truth, Bilbo rather hoped their visitor might be one of the healers, come to tell them they had found a remedy for ceaseless weeping. But when he cracked the door open and peered out, it was not an elf, but Dwalin, hulking and shadowy in the torchlit corridor.

"Mr. Baggins," he said.

"Mr. Dwalin!" Bilbo cried, for he had seen none of the company but Fili since the battle had ended, so concerned had he been with Kili. "It is good to see you well. Are you injured at all?"

"Not to speak of," Dwalin said, which, from what Bilbo knew of dwarves in general - and of this dwarf in particular - could mean anything from a stubbed toe to a punctured lung. "Will you let me in?"

Bilbo glanced back at Fili. "Dwalin," he said in a low voice, and Fili hesitated, then nodded.

Bilbo sat back and swung the door open, and Dwalin stepped through, taking in the sight of Fili and Kili on the bed with something like relief.

"It seems you both have harder heads than even I realised," he said.

Fili smiled a little at this, but Kili had bowed his head when Dwalin entered the room, and now his tears dripped on Fili's palm where it lay on his chest. Dwalin stepped a little closer, seating himself on the little trestle table that Bilbo had set beside the bed, and although it creaked rather alarmingly, it held his weight. "Kili, lad," he murmured. "Are you hurt?"

"He has been hurt for twenty-five years," Fili said quietly.

An expression of great grief passed across Dwalin's face then, though it was gone as quickly as it arrived. Then he nodded.

"Aye," he said. "If anyone has a right to tears, lad, it's you."

They sat in silence for a moment, Dwalin seeming sunk deep in thought, but then he roused himself. "Your uncle sent me to inquire after you," he said to Fili. "He awoke this morning, and they are bringing him to the mountain."

Fili's jaw clenched at that, and he nodded stiffly. "Tell him we are as well as can be expected," he said, and Bilbo saw that now that Thorin was out of danger, Fili had not forgotten his fury, not at all.

"I will," Dwalin said, and he made as if to stand, but then leaned forward instead, taking hold of Kili's chin with gentle fingers and raising it so he could look the little dwarf in the face. "I am going to talk to your uncle," he said, "and then I will come back and stand outside the door. Do you understand me, Kili lad? I will stand outside the door."

Kili did not reply, but his tear-bright eyes met Dwalin's for a moment before looking away, and Dwalin nodded and let go of his chin. He made to go, and Bilbo stood, too, following him out into the corridor.

"Mr. Dwalin," he said, shifting from foot to foot in his uneasiness, "what about the gold? And the Arkenstone?"

Dwalin stood a moment, considering him. "Thorin has agreed to give one twelfth-portion of the gold to the lake men in return for the Arkenstone," he said, "on condition that they take all the treasures that they claim belong to men or elves, and that they renounce any further claim to what is left. Let them fight it out amongst themselves, so he says."

Bilbo nodded, though he did not feel in the least reassured, for he feared what Thorin might do when the Arkenstone was back in his possession. "And what happens to the rest?" he asked.

"The company are each entitled to their share," Dwalin said. "Thorin's share along with Fili's is being moved even as we speak. It will be locked away in vaults deep in the mountain, along with the Arkenstone, and no member of the line of Durin will know their location, nor who keeps the key. It is enough that there is treasure enough to keep the kingdom. There is no need for the king to always be looking upon it."

Bilbo let out a great sigh, then, and had to lean against the wall a moment, so great was his relief. "Then it is truly over," he said.

"Aye," Dwalin replied. "It is truly over."

"Then who keeps the key?" Bilbo asked. "What if they have gold-sickness themselves? Oh, but I suppose I'm not allowed to know."

But Dwalin only smiled a little and then, to Bilbo's amazement, dropped to one knee, holding out a beautiful shining key carved with many runes as if he wished Bilbo to take it.

"No, Mr. Baggins," he said. "You are allowed to know."

Bilbo felt his eyes grow wide. "Surely you cannot mean me!" he said.

"I do," Dwalin said gravely. "I ask you once again to stand as a shield to my king and his kin. Will you accept?"

Bilbo could think of nothing at all to say, so great was his astonishment, but he wished Dwalin would stop kneeling in front of him, and so he reached out and took the key, stuffing it into his pocket. Dwalin nodded as if in satisfaction and rose to his feet.

"But aren't you afraid that I will steal the gold as I did the Arkenstone?" Bilbo asked.

Dwalin laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. "No, lad," he said. "I am not afraid of that at all."

On the second morning after the battle, Bofur came to see them.

Nothing had changed in the little chamber, except that Dwalin had returned and now stood guard before the door, just as he had promised. Silent tears still ran ceaselessly down Kili's cheeks, and although the swelling on the left side of his face had gone down a little now, and he was able to open his left eye partway, his gaze seemed rather glazed to Bilbo, which was a cause of some concern. Fili had sunk into a gloomy silence, and it could not have been good for him to have been sitting so long in one position, but of course he refused to be moved, even if only for half an hour. And this was the way that Bofur found them, once both Dwalin and Fili had agreed that he could enter.

"Bilbo," he said, "good to see you in one piece. And you lads, too." He nodded at Fili and Kili, seeming entirely unaffected by the tears that still slid down Kili's cheeks, and winced a little as he sat down on the little trestle by the bed.

"But you are hurt," Bilbo said, gesturing at the sling Bofur wore.

"Oh, aye," Bofur said with a cheerful grin. "Three broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder, so they tell me. Hurts like the blazes, I don't mind telling you. And that's not even the worst thing."

"What's the worst thing?" Fili asked, seeming slightly enlivened by the presence of Bofur in the chamber.

Bofur swept off his hat and pushed three fingers through the crown, wiggling them at Kili. "The foul beasts wounded my hat!" he said. "I ask you, is nothing sacred?"

Bilbo found himself smiling for the first time that day. "Perhaps the elves can heal your hat," he suggested.

"Perish the thought," Bofur said, sounding rather offended. "I wouldn't let those tree-shaggers within ten leagues of it. The elf king told me he'd get me a new one, can you believe it? Gold and silver, he said it'd be. As if a gold and silver hat is of any use to anyone!"

"Why would the elf king give you a hat?" Fili asked, frowning now.

"Apparently I saved him from getting his face smashed in," Bofur said. "Though if I'd've known it was him, I probably wouldn't have bothered."

"Well, I hope you were polite when you turned him down," Bilbo said, though since it was a dwarf he was speaking to, he was fairly sure that his hope was in vain.

"Oh, aye," Bofur said. "I told him that a bit of smashing might have done his face good. Flattened out that pointy little nose of his."

Bilbo groaned and Fili smirked. Bofur beamed at all of them, then shoved his hat back on his head and smiled particularly at Kili.

"I made something for you," he said, apparently still completely ignoring Kili's weeping. "I meant to finish it up a little before I gave it to you, but it'll have to wait now till my fingers start listening to me again." He fished in his pocket with his good arm and drew out a little wooden flute, rather crudely carved, but serviceable enough. "Since you liked mine so much," he added, and held the flute out.

Kili did not even seem to notice the gesture, his eyes fixed on Bofur's face, though rather distant beneath the sheen of tears. Bofur smiled at him and waggled the flute in his general direction, but Kili did not even look at his hand, and after a moment Bofur shrugged.

"Well," he said, "I'll keep it for you for now, then, will I? You can come and get it from me whenever you're ready." And he put the flute to his lips and played a strange little tune, though since he was one-handed it was missing half the notes. Kili blinked at him, his eyes falling to the flute, but when Bofur kept playing he suddenly closed his eyes and bowed his head, tears falling faster now. Bofur stopped, frowning at Kili, then at Bilbo. Bilbo shrugged helplessly.

"He likes the music," he said. "I wish you would keep playing."

And so Bofur did, though his cheerful countenance seemed a little strained, for Kili did not look up at all, and after a little while he stopped and shook his head.

"It's making him cry," he said, sounding troubled. "I'd better stop."

But when he rose to go, Kili looked up, sharply, his good eye wide, and half-reached towards Bofur, his fingers closing on empty air. Bofur stopped, half-turned away, and held out the flute again.

"Do you like it?" he asked. "Do you want me to keep on?"

Kili said nothing, but simply stared at Bofur, eyes huge. Bofur turned back slowly and sat down again, but his face was solemn as Bilbo had rarely seen it.

"Why are you crying for, Kili?" he asked.

But Kili didn't answer, and after a moment, Bofur put the flute to his lips and began to play.

After that, it seemed like there was an endless procession of dwarves through the little chamber, though most of them stayed not long at all, seeming uncomfortable with Kili's obvious distress, though it was clear they all wanted to see their companions and ascertain for themselves that they were unharmed, or at the very least not dead. To Bilbo, it was some relief, for the chamber had become melancholy indeed when it was just him and two silent dwarves, but it seemed rather difficult for Fili, who took to answering most questions with grunts and single words as the day wore on. Kili, meanwhile, improved not at all, and if anything he sank deeper into the daze that had threatened in the morning, seeming gradually to be losing what little energy he had. Finally, towards evening, he seemed to fall asleep, though the tears still squeezed from the corners of his closed eyes. Shortly afterwards, Fili dropped into an exhausted slumber, and Bilbo found himself nodding on the little trestle, and was just thinking about climbing onto the bed when he woke up with a start to find the room lit only by flickering firelight and Thorin Oakenshield sitting beside him, his leg swathed in bandages, staring at his sleeping nephews.

"Thorin!" Bilbo gasped, and Thorin turned and gave him a sombre glance before looking back at the two dwarves sleeping on the bed.

"I have been a fool," he said, as if speaking to himself. "I have been the greatest of all fools."

Bilbo blinked, not entirely sure he was not dreaming. "Well," he said, "I certainly will not argue with that."

Thorin did not answer this, merely continuing to brood over his nephews, and Bilbo stretched himself as much as he could with Kili's fingers still curled in his sleeve and turned to frown at Thorin.

"I suppose you've forgiven me, then, have you?" he said. "For the Arkenstone?"

"Forgiven you?" Thorin said, and then shook his head. "I have never been so indebted to any creature."

Bilbo did not know quite what to say to that. "Well," he said finally, "it is good to see you have finally come to your senses."

"I shall never come to my senses," Thorin said bleakly. "It is a curse that lies upon my line, Mr. Baggins. I was a fool to think I could resist it where my fathers all failed."

There was little answer that could be made to that, for of course it was true, although in the end Thorin had shaken off the curse, and Bilbo felt he deserved a little credit for that, at least. But he was a soft-hearted hobbit, and very quick to forgive, especially when he saw someone truly suffering for the hurt they had caused.

"There is no sense brooding about it now," he said. "Why do you not think about something else?"

"And what else should I think about?" Thorin asked. "What else would you suggest to occupy my time?"

"Oh, I don't know," Bilbo said, groping for the first thing that came to mind. "What about... elevenses? I always find elevenses occupy the time between second breakfast and lunch admirably."

Thorin gave him a startled look, and then choked out a laugh. "Mr. Baggins," he said, "you never cease to surprise me." And then he grew sombre again. "If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world."

"Well, merry or sad, we have to live in it," Bilbo said. "And there are many who need your help, not least your nephews over there, so you had better stop feeling sorry for yourself and do what you can for them."

Thorin leaned forward, then, raising a hand as if he wished to reach out to the dwarves who slept before him, though he did not do so. "How do they fare?" he asked.

"Fili has some bumps and bruises," Bilbo said. "And - and he is very angry."

Thorin nodded soberly. "It is his right," he said, with some resignation. "And Kili?"

Bilbo shook his head. "He does not speak," he said, feeling suddenly quite bleak himself, "and he will not stop crying."

"If I had seen what he has, I would not stop crying either," Thorin said, without taking his eyes from Kili's face.

Bilbo put a hand over Kili's where it clutched still at his sleeve. "I fear for his mind," he said finally, reluctant to voice the thought he had not even discussed with Fili.

Thorin turned to him then with a frown. "Was it not you who told me his mind is stronger than any of us imagined?" he said.

"And was it not you who didn't listen to a word I said?" Bilbo retorted.

Thorin turned back to his nephews, then, staring at them as if he could divine the mysteries of Kili's tears merely by force of will.

"I am listening now," he said.

It was Ori who brought everything to a head.

He arrived on the morning of the third day after the battle, and by now Bilbo was beginning to feel rather frantic, for Kili's gaze had grown distant and his face pale, and there was a hint of fever about him. Bilbo knew they should be making him eat more broth, but he could not bear to force it down his throat, not after what the elves had done to him, and he had spent much of the morning so far coaxing and cajoling and exchanging anxious glances with Fili. The idea that the little dwarf might simply fade away after everything that had happened was quite unbearable, and so it was that when Ori walked through the door with a leather bag under his arm and a bandage on his head, both Bilbo and Fili were in quite snappish moods.

"Hello, Mr. Baggins!" said Ori. "Hello, Fili, hello, Kili." It was the first time he had come to visit them, and he looked a little uncertainly around the room before his gaze lighted on Kili. It was clear he had been forewarned, for he did not seem surprised to see him crying, only rather sad. "I heard you weren't feeling very well," he said.

"Ori, it is not a good time," Fili said, but Bilbo was eyeing the bag and thinking that perhaps it was a perfect time, and he gestured for Ori to sit, sending a quick glance at Fili to quell his protest. Ori looked nervously at each of them, and then sat himself down.

"I'm sorry I didn't come and see you before," he said to Kili. "I got a knock on the head in the battle, and Dori hasn't let me out of his sight since. Well, I only woke up last night, anyway." He smiled a little. "Everyone's saying how brave you and Fili were, of course, but they're saying it about me, too! Apparently I killed a lot of orcs. I don't really remember it, though."

Bilbo smiled and patted his knee, for he looked rather disconcerted by his lack of memory. "I'm sure you were very brave," Bilbo said.

"Well, I wish I could remember," Ori replied. "I suppose you feel like that all the time, though, don't you?" he said to Kili, and then suddenly looked grief-stricken. "I was so afraid that they had killed you," he said.

"Ori!" Fili snapped, and Ori sat up, dashing the back of his hand across his eyes and looking guilty.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean- I'm sorry."

Kili, though, did not seem strongly affected by Ori's talk of death. He simply stared and wept, although Bilbo was not entirely sure he was seeing Ori at all.

"Well," Ori said, clearing his throat, "anyway, I brought your things back to you. One of the elves was going to throw them away." And he reached into his bag and pulled out the sheaf of pictures, laying them in Kili's lap, and following them swiftly with the golden harp. "I don't suppose he would have thrown that away," he added in a mutter.

Bilbo waited hopefully, but Kili made no sign that he had noticed the things Ori had given him, still staring at the other dwarf with that glazed look in his eyes. Finally, Bilbo leaned forward and tapped him on the knee.

"Ori has saved your things for you, Kili," he said. "What do you say?"

Kili looked at Bilbo and frowned, and Bilbo took his chin in one hand and gently tilted it down until Kili was looking at the pictures. "Ori has saved your pictures again," he said.

Kili stared at the pictures, and for a moment Bilbo thought it would make no difference to him at all. Then he raised a shaking hand and brushed his fingertips against the paper. Bilbo held his breath, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with Fili, and Kili reached for the harp and lightly touched a string, the delicate, silvery sound reverberating softly in the quiet room.

Then, without warning, Kili crumpled, curling in on himself and pressing both hands to his face, his shoulders suddenly shaking with silent sobs. Fili threw Bilbo a look of some alarm, and Bilbo quickly moved the pictures and the harp to one side and crawled onto the bed, trying to peel Kili's hands away from his face. When he found he could not do so, he instead wrapped his arms around Kili and held him close, murmuring soothing sounds as the little dwarf shuddered against him. And to his amazement, Kili took his hands from his face and clutched instead at Bilbo's back, burying his face in Bilbo's shoulder and sobbing out loud now, breath heaving in his chest.

"Oh," Bilbo said, "oh, my lad. There, there. It will all be all right now."

"Mr. Baggins," Fili said, and he looked quite distressed now, but Bilbo reached out an arm and pulled him forward, so that he was pressed against Kili's shaking back with Bilbo's hand on the back of his neck.

"It will be all right, now," Bilbo said. "It will be all right."

Kili sobbed until he had exhausted himself, and then he fell asleep on Bilbo's shoulder, and when Fili sat back and gently pulled his brother back against his chest, Bilbo saw to his great relief that Kili was truly asleep now, his face pale and drawn, but the tears no longer oozing from his closed eyes. Bilbo smiled at Fili, and Fili smiled back, though he looked quite wrung out.

"Do you think it's over?" he asked hoarsely.

"I don't think it will ever really be over," Bilbo said with a sigh. "But I think it will get better. I think it is already getting better."

Kili slept all through the middle of the day, and Bilbo himself fell into a doze towards afternoon. When he woke, the light that suffused the chamber had a golden quality that tellsof the last hour before sunset, and Fili was asleep, his head lolling back in the corner. Kili, though, was awake, watching Bilbo with more alertness that he had since before the orcs had taken him for the second time.

"Why, master dwarf!" Bilbo cried. "You are not weeping!"

Kili did not answer, swallowing in a way that looked rather painful, and Bilbo quickly helped him to drink some of the water that Ori had brought after Kili's sobbing fit had begun. When he had had enough, Kili sat back and watched Bilbo, and Bilbo smiled at him.

"Hello, my lad," he said. "It is good to see you."

Kili blinked slowly. "Hello is happy," he said, his voice ragged and soft. "Is happy see, yes?"

Bilbo all but clapped his hands in delight, breaking out into the broadest of smiles. "Yes!" he said. "Yes, yes, hello means I am happy to see you."

Kili nodded and leaned back on his brother's chest, looking weary but not closing his eyes.

"Hello, hobbit," he said.