Day 193

On the one hundred ninety-third day since the battle fought at the foot of the Lonely Mountain, the sun dawns on a world different from the one Fíli has known for the last six and a half months. A world in which his brother is still alive.

And not just that. He's right there in front of him, almost within arm's reach, the first hesitant sunrays touching his dark hair, damp with sweat after the battle they have just fought. Fíli cannot seem to take his eyes off Kíli. Seeing him now, in the bright light of day, somehow makes it all even more real than it has been in the darkness of night, when fact and fantasy are often so much harder to tell apart.

Right now, Fíli watches as Kíli examines the leg of his fire-haired Elf – his wife, as insane as that sounds – with uncommon tenderness. There's a wound on her calf that looks like a bite and even though her face is averted from him, Fíli can tell that it gives her a considerable amount of discomfort. She, too, is watching Kíli, who appears to know what he's doing as he begins pulling several items from a small leather satchel he's had stowed underneath his cloak and sets to treating the injury.

Fíli steps closer, intrigued by his brother's practiced actions. They've had to treat each other's wounds while on the road more than once, but mostly this has consisted of tying a more or less clean strip of cloth over the injury and then hurrying to get to Óin to have it looked at properly. What Kíli is doing now, however, is a different thing altogether and speaks of no small amount of training.

"When did you learn to do that?" Fíli asks while Kíli applies a paste of a dark purple color to the raised flesh around Tauriel's wound.

Kíli continues his work for a few moments, his whole attention fixed on his task. "I picked up a few bits here and there," he finally says, leaving Fíli with even more questions than before. When Kíli finally looks up, it is not Fíli whom he fixes his eyes on, but Tauriel. "I learned from the best," he comments and grins.

A look passes between the two of them and Fíli feels compelled to drop his gaze when a stab of jealousy pierces his heart. It used to be him whom Kíli shared his secret jokes with, only him, for so many years. Clearly that has changed now and even though Kíli has done his best to defend Tauriel's innocence when it comes to the course of events after the battle, Fíli cannot help but regard her as an intruder upon the relationship between him and his brother.

"I am glad to find you well."

Tauriel's voice, quiet and not yet overly familiar, startles Fíli out of his grim musings and he looks up to find her studying him with trepidation in her eyes.

"Surprised, but glad," she adds when she can be sure to have his attention. A faint blush has risen to her cheeks, but she holds his gaze, her eyes widening by a fraction when she is confronted with some of his darker feelings. But no matter how hard he tries, Fíli cannot detect any malicious intention in her expression, no secret regret that he and Kíli have been reunited.

Well if she felt that way, she would probably not have saved your life just a few hours ago, he reminds himself. He and Kíli had been fully engaged in the battle with the goblins, fighting side by side like they had not done for months. Maybe he had gotten a little too carried away in his enthusiasm, or maybe it was just another instance of rotten luck, but suddenly Fíli found his back being jumped by one of the hostile creatures.

Before he fully registered what was happening, before he even had time to panic, the whirring sound of an arrow cut through the air, and Fíli felt the impact when it hit the goblin, causing the creature to release its hold onto him with a gargling sound issuing forth from its ugly, twisted lips. When Fíli whipped his head around in search of the arrow's source, he spotted her further uphill, her bow still clutched in her long, pale fingers. The Elf who had stepped in to save his brother countless of times already. Fantastic. Now he owed her his life as well.

There hadn't been time to ruminate on Tauriel's reasons for saving him just then, with the goblin attack still in full swing. Now, though, as Fíli looks at her smooth, almost too perfect features, her feelings laid bare for him to see, he comes to the conclusion that she must not have had any ulterior motives in saving his life. He does not know much about her, but what he does know is that she loves his brother deeply. If he hasn't been convinced of that fact before last night, just the way that she looks at Kíli is enough to do so now. She saved him because of her love for Kíli and Fíli cannot find fault in that.

"Thank you," he says, hoping that if he does not manage to put an awful lot of warmth into his voice, he at least manages to sound sincere. "For taking out that goblin. He did get a little too close for comfort."

A smile lights up the Elf's face, making her beauty almost painful to look at. "My pleasure."

Despite his very best efforts, Fíli feels warmth creep up his neck and he quickly ducks his head, pretending to be entirely caught up with watching Kíli work again. His brother is now busy dressing the wound, eyes focused on his task. Still, Fíli thinks he sees a pleased smile grace Kíli's lips.

After another minute or two, Kíli straightens up, taking a hold of Tauriel's hands to assist her as she slowly shifts her weight onto her injured leg. "How does that feel?" he asks, his eyes shooting back down to her leg to study his own handiwork critically.

"Much better," Tauriel assures him. They continue to hold onto each other, losing themselves in each other's gaze for a bit. Fíli looks away, made uncomfortable by his intrusion upon this private moment between his brother and his wife. His eyes flit to the form of Kíli's other companion instead, a giant wolf that has taken up position a few feet away from where they are currently standing and that has been alternating between keeping a rigorous watch over Kíli and Tauriel and sending murderous glares in the general direction of everyone else.

It's a Mirkwood wolf, Fíli believes, for it is much too large to be an ordinary wolf. Until today, Fíli has not been entirely sure whether the giant wolves said to inhabit the northern regions of Mirkwood are not merely the stuff of fables. As soon as he laid eyes on this particular specimen, though, any doubts about its origin were instantly eclipsed.

In his initial shock over the presence of the wolf and Kíli's declaration that the animal was with him – really, Kíli, an Elf and a giant wolf? – he did not really pause to study the animal, but now that he does (and feels safe to do so with Kíli there to stop it from ripping him to shreds), Fíli realizes that he has seen the wolf before, in a dream. Back then he thought it was a nightmare, but what if it was more? Stranger things have happened, at least in Kíli's more recent history, so who is to say that the connection he and his brother have cultivated through all the years they've spent on this Earth together did not extend into the realm of the preternatural after external circumstances ripped them from each other's sides?

There are so many questions he wants to ask Kíli, for clearly there is still much about the months spent apart that his brother has not yet revealed to him. Before he can even begin to formulate any of those, however, fate stages yet another intervention in the form of Dori running up to meet them. His face is quite red from exertion, but underneath all the huffing and puffing, Fíli can tell immediately that his friend does not come as the bearer of good news.

"It's Thad. He's hurt so badly that he probably won't last much longer. You should come."

His worst fears confirmed by Dori's announcement, Fíli briefly closes his eyes. Not Thad. Not anyone, if he had a say in such matters, but of all the Dwarves in his company the two brothers are probably his most vulnerable spot. He may not know Thad and Flad for as long as some of the others, but has come to care deeply for them, his protectiveness for them somewhat resembling that which he feels on behalf of Kíli. To think that one of the two might be forced to watch the other die... it seems a cruel reversal of things, with one set of brothers reunited while the other stands at the brink of being torn apart for all eternity.

"I will be right there," he hears himself address Dori, a familiar numbness spreading quickly inside his mind. It does not matter whither he turns – there is always death and destruction to be met. "I have to go and pay my respects," he says to Kíli and his Elf, both of whom are studying him with concern. "Thad has been the most loyal of fighters and a good friend."

How on Earth is he to comfort Flad? He knows how his friend must feel right now, just as he knows that there is no remedy for his pain. But go to him he must and stand by him just as the brothers have done for him, for all these months, without ever asking anything in return.

"Maybe we can help."

Kíli's voice causes Fíli to pause and turn back around to look at his brother in surprise. Written all over Kíli's face he finds the sort of stubborn determination that usually makes his brother either do something very brave or very reckless.

Fíli's first impulse is to say no. If things are as bad as Dori says (and there is no reason to distrust his account), then he does not want to waste Thad's final moments on a futile attempt to save him. But then his eyes fall onto the leather satchel Kíli carries. He's just witnessed with his own eyes that Kíli has apparently obtained some new skills during their separation. And as for Tauriel... he has seen her achieve the impossible before when she pulled Kíli back from the shadows and whatever it was that brought him and Kíli back to life after the battle, Elven magic has played a substantial part in it.

Perhaps it is worth a try after all. Except for Bofur, who is the only one in his present company who witnessed the miracle of Kíli's recovery back at Lake-town, no one will be particularly happy to turn to Elven healing to save one of their own. But that does not matter – not if it's what is going to save Thad's life.

Fíli's eyes lock onto Kíli's and he nods. "Come, then. It did not sound as if Thad has much time left."

Kíli and Tauriel exchange a quick glance and then proceed to follow Fíli back to the waterfall at a brisk pace. Neither of them spares the spectacle of the water glistening in the early morning sun a second glance as they make their way into the largest of the caverns concealed behind the waterfall.

Most of the Dwarves in Fíli's company appear to have found their way into this particular cave by now, either nursing an injury of their own or tending to those of others. In a corner, Fíli sees Bofur attempting to bind Bifur's sprained wrist. Bifur keeps slapping his brother's hands away, clearly deeming the bandage an unnecessary fuss. All other injuries Fíli notes in passing are relatively minor from the look of it – except that sustained by Thad, whose unconscious form Fíli soon discerns at the far end of the cavern.

The group of Dwarves huddled around the patient steps back respectfully when Fíli approaches. He nods to them, catching Dwalin's eye for a moment. He looks worried, and rightly so. As Fíli turns his attention to the injured Dwarf in the ground before him, he finds Thad deathly pale, his eyes sunken and bis breathing extremely shallow. There are several bloodied rags piled on the floor next to him, a circumstance for which the gaping wound in the blond Dwarf's shoulder must be responsible. Dori was right. This does not look good at all.

Fíli swallows against the heavy lump in his throat as he kneels next to Flad, who is crouched on the floor beside his brother, his lean form shaking with barely suppressed sobs.

"Flad," Fíli manages, his own voice thick with his pain, "I have brought someone who might be able to help your brother. Will you let them take a look at him?"

He's dimly aware of a surprised whisper passing through the small crowd gathered around them at his announcement, but ignores it completely, his whole attention focused on his friend.

When Flad shifts his bloodshot gaze to him, Fíli's heart breaks for his young friend, for he recognizes the agony behind his troubled eyes. It has, after all, held him, too, in its clutches for many months after the battle.

Flad barely glances at Kíli and Tauriel before he shakes his head. "It's too late. He's halfway gone already. There is nothing anyone could do."

Fíli shares a brief look with Kíli, hoping that the faith he is willing to put into him will not bring them all even more pain. Then he reaches out a steadying hand to clasp Flad's trembling shoulder, asking for his trust.

"These two believe that they can. I think you should let them try."

"We can save your brother," Kíli adds, and Flad looks up at him as he steps closer. "But he does not have much time."

Flad hesitates for another few seconds, but then Fíli senses a shift in his friend's demeanor and he rises to his feet, his eyes wide and hopeful as he stares at Kíli and the Elf at his side.

Kíli and Tauriel do not waste another moment, each kneeling down on one side of Thad's lifeless body. Fíli comes to stand beside Flad, again placing his hand on the red-headed Dwarf's shoulder while they watch the younger Durin brother and his Elven companion set to work.

It is oddly calming to Fíli's troubled mind to observe the pair of them going about their task, each of their moves practiced and confident. They communicate with each other mostly through looks and hushed remarks, seeming to be guided by a shared intuition of what needs to be done next. They clean and treat Thad's wound with swiftness and precision. Fíli is so absorbed in watching them work, that it takes him a second or two to notice when they have stopped.

"What's the matter?"

Kíli's question is voiced softly enough so that only those standing closest can hear it. Tauriel, Fíli now notices, is holding several clean bandages in her hands, but is making no move to dress Thad's wound. Instead, she leans over the form of the unconscious Dwarf and examines him. Fíli cannot really see what she is doing, but when she straightens up again, she mutters something in Elvish and then turns to look at Kíli. "The blade responsible for this injury was poisoned. Even if the wound does not kill him, he will drift into the shadows before too long."

Fíli does not need to be versed in the art of healing to know what his means, for he has seen it happen before. He bites down on the inside of his cheek to stop a curse from escaping his lips. Kíli, too, does not seem happy with this bit of news and closes his eyes, his lips twisting with the pain of unpleasant memories. When he opens his eyes again, they seek and hold Tauriel's gaze, their usually so warm, brown shade now cold with grim determination.

"Then we know what we must do," Kíli says.

There can only be one thing his brother is talking about, and Fíli finds himself slightly confused by Kíli's use of the pronoun 'we'. As if reading his thoughts, Kíli turns his head to look directly at Fíli and it seems as if there is something he wants to say but does not have the words for. Then the moment passes and Kíli once more shifts his attention to Tauriel, who has begun crushing the leaves of a plant which Fíli would recognize anywhere after their time in Lake-town - Kingsfoil.

The distinctive smell of the herb transports Fíli back to those hours in Bard's house when his abstract fear of losing his brother turned into deadly certainty with every minute that passed, with every degree by which Kíli's fever rose. Back then, Sigrid and he were barely more than strangers to each other and he suddenly has the most irrational longing of being able to travel back in time and tell his former self that the young girl who has welcomed them into her home without question and tried to help save his brother will one day become his rock, his reason to keep going, and that no matter how dark his days will become, the light which she carries inside of her will enough for both of them. Perhaps, he thinks, that knowledge would have made the horror of everything that happened after that easier to bear.

Commanding himself to be done with such silly, sentimental nonsense right this instant, Fíli drags his consciousness back to the present and finds Kíli and Tauriel engaged in a whispered conversation over Thad's limp form. Kíli looks doubtful while Tauriel continues to speak to him with urgency in her gaze and finally Kíli nods, squaring his shoulders.

Before Fíli has time to reflect on what all that may have been about, the pair of them reach out with their hands at the same instant, Tauriel pressing some of the now soggy Kingsfoil leaves into Kíli's hand. That Kíli should assist his wife in treating the injury with the herbal paste comes as no surprise to Fíli. What his brother does next, however, is much more puzzling.

Kíli appears to have frozen on the spot, his hands hovering above the injury to Thad's shoulder. His eyes are closed, but Fíli can see them move rapidly behind their lids, searching for something no one but his brother can see. Their movement grows calmer, after a while, and eventually they grow perfectly still. Kíli's mouth, a hard line at first, has gone slack and then... Well. Then he begins to chant.

It begins as a low hum, so low, in fact, that it takes Fíli several moments to realize that it is his brother who is making this sound. After a few repetitions of the same pattern, those vague sounds begin to flow into distinctive words, words which Fíli does not understand. But he does not have to in order to grasp their meaning, in order to know what Kíli is doing. He's saving Thad.

At some point Tauriel's soft, melodic voice joins in with Kíli's and it is then that Fíli senses something in the air around him shift, like the pieces of a whole coming together. He knows it is going to happen before it does, but that does not make the bright light which gradually begins to envelop Kíli, Tauriel, and Thad any less blinding, and Fíli raises his hands to shield his eyes.

Then it is over, the light in the cavern returning to its normal levels. Fíli lowers his hands to stare at his brother, utterly dumbfounded by what he just witnessed. Did Kíli really just use Elven magic to heal Thad? Kíli's eyes are open again, but he still seems in a bit of a trance, his chest rising and falling quickly with each breath.

A gasp cuts through the silence, and Fíli's attention is drawn to Thad. He's conscious and clearly in quite a bit of pain, but his eyes dart around the cavern, taking in his surroundings with alertness. A relieved sob tears from Flad's chest and he rushes forward, dropping to his knees at his brother's side.

Fíli turns his head when a large hand is placed onto his shoulder and he finds himself gazing into Dwalin's face, the older Dwarf's brow furrowed in a confused frown. Fíli gives a small shake of his head in answer to his friend's unspoken question. He, too, has no idea whatsoever how Kíli was able to do what he just did.

Turning back around, he observes that Kíli, who is still kneeling on the ground and has merely scooted back a little to make room for Flad, is looking rather pale. The energy that surrounded him mere moments ago appears to have left him and now he seems exhausted, with strands of his dark hair clinging to his damp forehead.

Tauriel has left her spot at Thad's side and has crossed over to Kíli. They speak to each other in tones too low to be overheard before Kíli hoists himself to his feet and makes his way to the mouth of the cave, where he pauses and looks over his shoulder, his hesitant eyes finding Fíli's gaze. Fíli, still at a complete loss over the events of the last few minutes, merely inclines his head, signaling to his brother that he will follow him before too long. They have much to discuss still. More, it appears, than Fíli originally thought. Before he throws himself into this conversation, though, he wants to make sure that everyone else is alright.

Flad is just rising to his feet when Fíli turns back around, and before he can open his mouth to speak, he finds himself enfolded in the younger Dwarf's arms.

"He'll live," Flad says, his voice muffled against Fíli's shoulder. "I do not understand how this is at all possible, but he'll live."

Returning his friend's embrace, Fíli mutters, "That makes two of us."

Over Flad's shoulder, he sees that Tauriel has returned to Thad's side and is dressing his wound – which looks considerably less stomach-turning than it did just half an hour ago – with clean bandages. If she is at all troubled by the suspicious glances of some of the cavern's other occupants, she does not show it, working with steady hands and a neutral expression.

Flad loosens his hold onto him and comes to stand beside Fíli instead, gazing at his brother, who has fallen into a deep, exhausted slumber, with a tender expression.

"It would appear that I am not the only one to whom a brother was returned when such a thing was thought quite impossible."

"Aye, it would appear so indeed." Fíli tries for a smile, but it's a rather tired one. As wonderful as some of the events of last night have been, they are only now beginning to catch up with him and leave him more than a little exhausted. "I will explain it all in due course," he says to Flad. "Once I fully understand it myself, that is."

"No worries," Flad returns with a lopsided grin. "I know a thing or two about what it's like to have a reckless little brother to look after. It can be a lot, sometimes."

Fíli isn't entirely sure whether Flad is in any way inferior to Thad when it comes to a certain tendency for reckless behavior, but he grins nevertheless, clapping his friend on his back. "That is certainly true. Still, I couldn't be happier for you."

"And I for you. Clearly you and Kíli belong with each other – nothing can break such a bond, right?"

With that statement left hanging in the air, Flad leaves Fíli to return to Thad's side. Fíli looks at the pair of them with a thoughtful frown. In how far he and Kíli really still belong with each other – that is something that the next few hours shall determine. And he is not altogether convinced whether he even wants to know the answer.

He briefly joins Dwalin, who has retreated to the sidelines to watch the scene before him unfold with his arms folded across his broad chest.

"I must go and speak with Kíli," Fíli informs him. "This might take some time. Will you be alright here, for a while?"

Dwalin grumbles something about having managed quite well for many years without some youngster to watch over him, but then grunts his agreement.

Fíli tries and fails to suppress a grin. "Thank you. And keep an eye on Kíli's Elf while she's still here. He won't forgive me if anyone lays so much as a finger on her."

"He's really quite serious about that, then?"

Fíli barks a laugh. "You have no idea."

Dwalin's eyebrows shoot up questioningly, but Fíli does not elaborate. Leave the honor of explaining to their brethren how he ended up married to an Elf to Kíli himself.

He quits the cave after that, briefly speaking to some members of his company on his way out. Everyone is exhausted after another night without proper rest, but other than that, spirits are not as low as you might expect them to be. It would be risky to stay at the caverns much longer, but for the day, Fíli deems it safe enough. Let everyone recover and get their strength back up and then, maybe, they can finally cross those blasted mountains.

Outside, Fíli walks into a wall of hot, humid air, a result of last night's rains and the intense glare of the morning sun. He has no trouble following his brother's tracks. Clearly, Kíli has meant for him to do so, for Fíli knows he can be quite good at confounding potential followers if need be.

A short hike leads Fíli to a spot on the riverbank about half a mile further downstream. Kneeling on the gravelly ground near the water's edge, Kíli is busy rinsing out a couple of rags, pausing, from time to time, to wipe away the sweat gathering on his forehead and at the back of his neck.

Kíli does not look up when Fíli approaches and his dark eyes remain fixed on the fabric soaking in the water in front of him even as Fíli sits down next to him, resting his elbows on his knees.

"That was certainly... something," Fíli says when it becomes clear that Kíli will not be the one to break the silence.

Kíli's shoulders tense up before his breath rushes from his lungs in a deep sigh. "I know. It—it's hard to explain. And probably even harder to understand."

"I can imagine. It strikes me that marrying an elf is the least strange thing to happen to you in the past few months."

Fíli is relieved when his attempt at humor is met with a small laugh. "You might say so indeed." Fíli watches as Kíli lifts his head to gaze out over the water, his eyes unseeing. "I did not simply ride off into the sunset with her after the battle, you know. In fact, I waited so long until I finally allowed what was between us to become real that it was almost too late."

"I believe you."

It is the truth and so it does not cost Fíli any pain to say it. He did not really mean what he said upon finding out where his brother had gone after the battle, about how Kíli abandoned them all to chase after a lass. However, that neither changes nor lessens his nearly overwhelming sense of betrayal.

"I still cannot wrap my head around the fact that you left," Fíli admits, staring at his hands as they swim before his eyes with the onset of tears. He blinks them away.

Kíli drops to the ground beside him, sitting so close that Fíli can hear the trembling of his brother's breath as he draws up his knees in an imitation of his own posture.

"I was in a bad place after the battle," Kíli says, still staring straight ahead in an obvious effort to maintain his composure. "And aside from all that grief, all that pain, I felt so terribly guilty. Guilty over being alive when so many, including Thorin and yourself, had died. Guilty over being the reason why Tauriel had been exiled from her home."

Huh. That's new. "She was?"

"Aye – as her punishment for following us to Lake-town. For coming to save me. I thought that, if there was nothing else I could do to undo the damage already done, I might at least convince her king to lift her banishment. So I made a deal with him – if he took us both back to Mirkwood, I would find a way to help him get back those gems he and Thorin were quarrelling over."

By Durin's beard. Fíli has been wondering how Kíli gained entrance to Thranduil's kingdom but thought it would have had something to do with Tauriel calling in a favor with her king. That it has been the other way round, essentially, is more than a little insane.

"And he went with that? The Elvenking, I mean?"

Kíli nods, an almost smug smile playing around his lips. "He did. Although I am not entirely sure why. Back then, I did not care. I had gotten my wish and was permitted to accompany Tauriel back to her home in the woods."

"Which provided you with a perfect way of escaping the responsibility you thought would fall to you if you stayed," The words are out before Fíli can stop himself and he watches with a sickening mixture of guilt and satisfaction as Kíli's shoulders sag with shame.

"As I said, I was in a bad place at the time."

The dejection in Kíli's voice helps Fíli cast aside his own demons for a moment and he shifts, turning to face Kíli. "But you are in a better place now?"

Much depends on Kíli's answer to this question. Fíli's destiny is painfully clear – he has accepted the crown and the responsibility it symbolizes. Kíli, meanwhile, has chosen a path quite far off the beaten track. Now that they have found each other again, will his little brother be willing to return to his side and to the life they had cut out for them since they were children?

Fíli's stomach clenches when Kíli squeezes his eyes shut, pain distorting his features.

"I am not the same Dwarf you set out with on what we thought would be the glorious quest to reclaim our homeland. You have just witnessed with your own eyes how much I have changed."

That may be true, but Fíli finds that he would not care if Kíli had grown a second head during his absence – he would still be his brother and Fíli would still want him at his side.

"Maybe you need something to remind yourself of that Dwarf whose dream it was to see the halls of his forefathers with his own eyes."

Kíli's eyes widen in surprise when Fíli reaches inside the collar of his tunic and pulls out the runestone he keeps concealed there. Tugging sharply to break the knot that keeps the leather cord tied around his neck together, Fíli places the stone in Kíli's hand, mourning the loss of its familiar weight against his chest. Who, though, if not Kíli would have a right to lay a claim on this precious talisman of his?

"How– how did you get this?" Kíli whispers, his voice choked with emotion.

"Once I had recovered enough to do so, I went back to Ravenhill. The others had found some parts of your armor up there when they first searched for you, but we still had no idea what had happened to you. The conviction that you really had died was beginning to spread, but I just couldn't give up and so I went back. That's when I found it."

Fíli sees himself forced to stop there, the memories of that day threatening to overwhelm him. It does not matter that Kíli is now sitting next to him, alive. The agony he felt that day on Ravenhill was real and he can still feel its hold over him today.

"I kept it," he goes on once he can be sure that he is not going to break down entirely, "hoping against hope that you would find a way to keep the promise it stands for."

Kíli keeps studying the stone like he has never seen it before, his mind lost in thoughts which Fíli can only guess at. Well, they're in the middle of this now anyway, so he might as well stop beating about the bush.

"We are on our way to the Blue Mountains," Fíli continues, "to convince the remainder of our people to come to Erebor. To honor the cause for which Thorin gave his life and help rebuild that greatest kingdom of the Dwarves." He pauses, gathering his courage. "Come with us. Fulfill the promise you made to our mother."

Kíli closes his fist around the rune stone, clenching his fingers so tightly that his knuckles turn white. When he looks up, tears spill from his eyes and down his cheeks, leaving glistening tracks in their wake. Fíli's heart, filled with tentative hope mere seconds ago, sinks.

"I—," Kíli begins, but cannot seem to get the words to make it past his lips. He takes a shuddering breath and tries again. "I am not sure that I am in a position to keep that promise. Not without hurting Tauriel. And I cannot—I won't do that."

At those last words, Kíli has dropped his gaze to stare at the ground, and Fíli now studies the slumped form of his brother while opposing forces tear at his inside. A part of him, that which feels an indescribable hurt at being rejected, wants to lash out, to protect himself from further harm by pushing Kíli away. If Kíli wants to put someone else's well-being above that of his brother, his own flesh and blood, then fine, let him have his wish and sever all ties to his former life.

Only... it's not as simple as that, is it? For if Fíli is completely honest – which, usually, he endeavors to be – he does not find it all that difficult to put himself in his brother's shoes, and to imagine being faced with a choice that might result in breaking the heart of the woman he's sworn to cherish, to love and protect. Nor is it so very hard to admit that if it were him asked to make that choice and Sigrid the one whose happiness were at stake, his conduct would not differ from Kíli's.

Which leaves them... well, nowhere really. Or at least not anywhere close to where they used to be, for the last eight decades. Fíli sits up, the stirrings of a new resolution straightening his spine.

"Kíli. Look at me."

Kíli obeys his request, though hesitantly, his dark eyes widened with fear and pain. Fíli lifts a hand to his brother's shoulder, the familiar touch reinforcing his determination to find a way to make this right.

"If you cannot keep the promise you made," Fíli says, "then I suppose you will just have to make a new one. To me. Can you do that?"

This time there is no hesitation on Kíli's part as he nods eagerly, his red-rimmed eyes not straying from Fíli's earnest gaze. "Yes," he whispers. "Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it."

Fíli moves a little closer still, his arm sliding around Kíli's shoulder in a loose embrace. "It is not so much about what you have to do, but about what we both have to do if we want this to work. I need you... I need us both to promise that we will not allow the shadow of what has come to pass between us to darken the path ahead. That we will not shy away from any opportunity to still partake in the life of the other because we fear the pain this might entail. That, even as we lead separate lives, we will never be truly separated from one another, not in our hearts. Can you do that for me, Kíli? Can you accept what has happened and move on from it, to a place yet unknown to either of us?"

"I can," Kíli promises, "I can, and I will, no matter the cost. But you... can you really forgive me? It was my choice that brought all of this on, after all, my actions that caused you so much pain."

It is true – out of the two of them, Fíli is the one wronged more grievously. And yet... "It was also your actions, your tenacity, your love for me, that saved my life in the first place, brother. And while that does not excuse some of the very questionable choices you made, it does count as something. But even if it didn't – I do forgive you, yes. And I promise that we will make this work, somehow."

It is with a sigh of relief bordering on a sob that Kíli leans into his embrace more fully, burying his face against the side of his neck. They sit like that for a long time, and eventually Fíli begins to outline some of the plans he and Balin began working on before he left for Ered Luin; plans to travel across Middle Earth, form new alliances where possible. Those plans lie far, far in the future and largely depend on the outcome of his current journey, but as he and Kíli paint tentative pictures of travels they might undertake together, the warmth of his confidence in the bond between himself and his brother fills Fíli for the first time in months.

When they fall silent again, there is still much left unsaid, things they will need to discuss at some point. There are still many aspects of Kíli's story which Fíli does not understand, and some, like Kíli's strange healing powers, which he suspects he never will. Fíli, too, has yet to reveal the changes in his life since he became king, particularly those revolving around a certain bowman's daughter. But that can wait. Maybe, Fíli thinks with a sudden flash of mischief, he ought to keep Kíli in the dark with regard to that last point for a while, if only to repay his brother for marrying an Elf in secret.

The only thing which does matter, now, is that Kíli and he are both willing to work on rebuilding their relationship under new terms. It will take some time and a fair bit of patience, but that's alright. If there is one thing that the last six months have taught Fíli, then it is that some things are more than worth waiting for.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

A/N: Again, most of the dialogue here is the same as found in The Gift. Hope it wasn't too repetitive. There is one more chapter to go plus an epilogue. Both are already written, so if things go well, I might upload them this weekend. Can't believe its almost over, even though this story turned out waaaaaaayyy longer than I originally planned...