"...stay, Fíli. Don't give up."

Zefur bolted upright, drenched in sweat. He struggled to calm his breathing, pressing shaking palms to his forehead. Dis shifted beside him.

"Alright, love?" she whispered, twining her fingers in his curls.

"I think...I just need to walk it off. Go back to sleep, darlin'," he murmured and pressed a kiss on her brow. As he climbed out of bed he plucked his sweater from the floor and pulled it over his head.

"You sure?"

"Aye, lass. No worries."

His stocking feet carried him to the kitchen where he restlessly dug through the cupboards, not looking for anything in particular until his fingers brushed a coveted treasure. A brick of chocolate. Traders from the southern reaches of Gondor rarely made their way so far north - especially these days. But last season a merchant stayed with Zefur and his family during her time in the Blue Mountains, and the chocolate brick was her gift of gratitude.

Without a second thought, Zefur filled the small kettle with milk and set it over the glowing embers in the fireplace. After stoking the coals, he set about shaving slivers of chocolate and dropping them into two mugs. Yes, two. For soon enough came the pad of little feet and a golden tangle of curls framing eyes puffy and red. Zefur spoke no words as his son climbed onto the bench next to him. Fíli hunched with his blanket pulled tight about his shoulders, waiting patiently. The kettle whistled softly, and Zefur removed it from the fireplace before the whistle grew to a full blown shriek. He poured half into Fíli's mug and half into his own before arming himself and the boy with spoons.

Metal clinking on ceramic harmonized with the crackling fire, relaxing father and son. They sipped at their chocolate, taking comfort in each other's company. For the past four years this had been their ritual on the last night of summer. Each woke from the most unsettling dreams, but unlike Fíli who always dreamed the same thing, Zefur's nightmares evolved and worsened every year. The two exhaled together. Zefur reached over and rubbed soft circles over his son's back. Fíli sighed deeply, eyelids already drooping again.

"Thank you, Papa."

"You're welcome."

Zefur smiled, and Fíli snuggled into his side. Scooping him up and returning him to his bed, Zefur stayed as Fíli fell asleep. He ran his fingers through the boy's hair until his breathing grew deep and even. Dis found Zefur still there at dawn, arms curled protectively around his wee lad.

Ripping cloth.

Lowered voices.

The scuff of feet.

Coughing and groaning wounded.

Not a sound from Fíli. Sometimes his chest rose and fell. Other times - terrifying times - it didn't. Thorin clenched his fists and held his breath, biting down on his tongue. Willing his nephew to breathe.

"Don't take him yet," he begged hoarsely. "Not yet."

Then at last, Fíli would breathe.

Two weeks. Fourteen agonizing days since the battle. Thorin spent more than half of those days confined to a cot. The elf "physician" insisted that he needed to remain still, but Thorin told him in no uncertain terms that he could kiss his royal arse. What he needed was to be elsewhere. During Balin's visits at his bedside he learned of the battle's outcome. Although constantly assured that his nephews lived, after eleven days, three hours and thirteen minutes of bed rest, Thorin had enough. He forced himself to his feet in spite of Fallaner's insistence that he really should wait.

"Help me or stand aside, elf," he growled.

Fallaner sighed patiently and took Thorin's arm.

"This way, my lord."

Kíli dozed in the main hall with the rest of the wounded. His injuries no longer threatened his life, but he required heavy sedation to keep him still, lest he try to walk and tear the wound in his thigh open once more. Óin's meticulous stitching held the laceration neatly together, and the physician, knowing Kíli's willfulness, took precautions to prevent the tearing of his needlework. The lad lost enough blood already. He didn't need to lose more due to his own rash behavior. Thorin hissed and slumped onto a stool beside him, a hand pressed to his screaming torso.

"I'll leave you to it," Fallaner murmured. Óin shuffled over, and the elf nodded briefly to him before disappearing.

Kíli's eyes opened and focused on Thorin. A stupefied grin spread over his face before his eyes rolled back and the medicinal herbs claimed him once more. Thorin smiled back and brushed Kíli's hair from his forehead with trembling fingers. He pointed to Kíli's arm wrapped in a sling and shot a questioning look at Óin.

"Dislocated is all. Nothing broken."

"Good. Where's Fíli?"

Óin's brows pinched together, his eyes glistening. "You'd best follow me, laddie."

Thorin spent as much time as his body could handle with each of his nephews, though as the days wore on and still Fíli did not wake, he found himself straying from his bedside less and less often. Which is why - fourteen days, six hours and forty-seven minutes after the battle - Dwalin found Thorin slumped in the chair at Fíli's side, eyes wide and riveted on the boy's chest.

"Thorin..."

No response.

"Thorin," Dwalin said a bit louder, gripping his cousin's shoulder.

Thorin blinked, lifting bloodshot eyes. "What?"

"Kíli's asking for you."

Thorin glanced at Fíli, hesitating. "Will you...?"

"Aye, I'll stay with him."

A nod of thanks then Thorin grasped Dwalin's forearm, the latter helping the former to his feet. The distance to Kíli's cot was not great, but Thorin felt each step keenly from the pit of his stomach to his scalp. His wound ached terribly, pain pulsing along with his heart and jarring with every step. Kíli spotted him coming and raised his head. Thorin offered a tight smile.

"Alright?" Kíli asked.

"No," Thorin admitted and sank on the edge of his cot, "but it's not as bad as it was."

"And Fíli?"

Thorin sighed, "Resting."

Kíli frowned deeply, nostrils flaring and jaw muscles ticking. "Why does everyone keep saying that? Even Fallaner won't say more. Where is he? What aren't you telling me?"

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's here, yet...he's not."

Kíli clenched his teeth tighter. "I don't understand."

"The elf's words, not mine. He lives, but he does not wake. Fallaner and Óin agree that they've done all they can. We must be patient."

"Take me to him."

"Kíli-"

"I NEED TO SEE HIM!"

Kíli's outburst cast silence over the hall, causing many heads to turn their way. Óin bustled over, laying aside his tray of medicines and supplies.

"What's this, now?"

Kíli said nothing, staring Thorin down. At last, the king sighed. "Óin, would you ask your assistants to move Kíli's cot into the other hall, please?"

"Thorin, I don't think..."

"Please."

The old one pressed his lips together, glancing from Kíli to Thorin. "Aye, I will."

"Thank you," Kíli exhaled.

Bandages swathed his brother's face and torso. Only Fíli's mouth and right eye were visible, the rest hidden in bloodied cloth, and his breath rattled low in his chest.

"Mahal," Kíli choked. "What happened?"

Dwalin glared at his fists as he recounted the skirmish following Kíli's rescue. When he finished, heavy silence settled over them all. Kíli roughly raked his knuckles across his eyes, dashing away the wetness blurring his vision.

"Is he going to die?" he asked flatly. No one answered, and Kíli searched unreadable expressions. "Is my brother going to die?"

"That," said Óin, "is up to him."

Kíli looked beseechingly to Fallaner as the elf bent over Fíli, checking the bandages wrapped snugly around his torso.

"Is there nothing you can do?"

"I'm afraid that I've already done everything in my power, Kíli," Fallaner replied dolefully. "Master Óin speaks true. Your brother must find his own way back to us."

Cold, tangible dark.

It curls and drifts over Fíli's skin, guiding him forward. A million steps he trods and millions more before the deafening silence breaks. Two voices murmur somewhere in the inky blackness ahead, and his pace quickens. He wades through the dark, the voices growing clearer.

"You're sure?"

"Half a mo, Zefur, for Durin's sake! There are scores of names here, you know."

"Mind your tongue, Frerin. If Deathless hears you speaking that way-"

The second voice hums in irritation, "Yeah, yeah, I'll meet him in the sparring hall after dinner and settle it then."

"He'll hand you your arse, you idjit."

"Wouldn't be the first time." A pause, then, "Yes, I'm sure of it. He's not there. Honestly, Zefur."

All at once the dark rolls back like fog, depositing Fíli before a set of double doors so immense that they stretch forever upwards. One half of the monumental portal stands ajar, warm firelight filtering through the opening. Hundreds of thousands of voices clamor within, as jovial and rowdy as any dwarf could wish. Two blonde dwarves sit just outside, their hair flashing gold in the firelight. Both heads bow over a large tablet as they scan for the name Frerin insists isn't there. The dwarf on the left freezes as the other continues scanning.

His eyes lift slowly, still that sparkling blue, and his face is lined with laughter even without a smile creasing his face. He's not a day older than the last time Fíli saw him. The other dwarf notices his companion's change in mood and looks up.

"You're not on the list," Zefur whispers in awe.

Fíli blinks. "I'm not?"

"No, you're not," insists the young dwarf, whom Fíli realizes appears quite young and can't be more than fifty. "Not that it isn't wonderful to meet my own nephew, but you're early."

"Early?"

"Peace, Frerin," says Zefur. Frerin glances sidelong at him before turning back to Fíli.

"Right, sorry. Bit much, all this. I understand. So I'll shake your hand," which he does, "and we'll see you later, yeah?"

Fíli offers Frerin a bemused smile as the uncle he'd never met disappears through the open door. A roaring welcome issues from inside, and the festivities continue. Zefur and Fíli are alone now in the relative quiet outside, and all they can do is stare at each other.

"Will you look at you," Zefur chuckles at last, stepping forward to fold Fíli in a firm hug. "You did it."

"Da," Fíli sighs gustily. "Mahal, I've missed you."

"And I you, lad, but," here Zefur pulls back, holding Fíli at arm's length. "You mustn't linger."

"There's so much to tell you-"

"It's not your time, son. You have to return."

Fíli peers back at the darkness whence he came. It isn't inviting by any means, and he's so very tired. "Can't I stay, Da?"

Zefur smiles sadly. "Oh, my son. I love you too much to keep you here. They need you, Fíli. My brothers. Your mother and Kíli. Thorin. They're waiting for you, lad."

Fíli bows his head. "I don't know the way."

Zefur's eyes crinkle at the corners. "Come. I'll walk you home."

Fíli can't help it. He laughs.

"Now, then," says Zefur as he leads the way. "Tell me all about your adventures!"

"I thought you said he was getting better," Thorin growled.

"He is," Fallaner replied patiently.

"Then why doesn't he wake?"

Fallaner passed a hand over Fíli's face, eyelids fluttering shut. "Give him time."

"I wish you could have seen Mum's face!" Fíli gasps with laughter. "Kíli has never managed to pull a plank as glorious as that since."

Zefur grins wistfully. "Is she happy?"

Fíli notes the bittersweet tone. He grins softly in return. "Aye. She talks about you often."

His father exhales slowly. "I miss her," he murmurs, eyes going hazy. "Though, I am more than content to wait for her. I'd not wish death on her afore her time."

He trails off as a simple oaken door appears in the mist ahead, the runes of Fíli's name carved in the wood.

"Well," Fíli says shakily, "I suppose this is me?"

"Aye, it is at that."

Fíli straightens, clearing his throat. "Good-bye, Da."

Zefur clears his own throat and pulls Fíli close. "No, son. Not good-bye."

The embrace is over before either is quite ready for it.

"Be seeing you, Da."

"Later rather than sooner, I hope," Zefur laughs as he fades into the misty darkness, back to the other side.

"Aye," Fíli whispers into the silence. Pushing the door open, he steps into the light.

Author's Note:

Hello, all! I apologize for the lengthy intermissions between chapters. I promise I didn't mean to leave you hanging for so long without a word! I appreciate each one of you and thank you so much for reading :)

The story's not quite finished yet. There's room for a little more.

In response to sorrellkaren's review on chapter 35: Thank you for your kind words! I enjoyed your review very much, and it was a highlight of my day.

For those who may be interested, I've drawn a couple illustrations for this chapter and will be posting them shortly on my tumblr blog. My username is ofahattersmind there as well.

Thanks again, and stay tuned for the final chapter!