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Heirs of What

| Part 4 |

-The Shadows Start to Fade-

Chapter (29) 'Peace Fights for a Place'

Bofur was the first to notice Fili's absences. When the younger dwarf did not show on time for his watch shift the hour before dawn, the toymaker found it odd but was not at first concerned. When they had set up the watch all the members had agreed that Fili needn't worry about taking part. They didn't feel hours of solitude and silence would serve the prince well in his current state nor did they think his attentions would be fully engaged. It was doubted by more than one of them that he could really do the job adequately. But Fili had insisted. He was eager to help and said that something to do would be a good thing for him. They had agreed in the end with the exception of a few lingering hesitations.

When at first Fili didn't arrive for his watch Bofur assumed he had lost track of time which was easily done in the Mountain even when one was awake. As the early morning progressed and Fili still did not relieve him, however, Bofur began to grow increasingly uneasy. He hadn't know the younger dwarf for terribly long, but one gets to know their companions well rather quickly on such a journey as the one they were just on. Everything Bofur knew of Fili contradicted his present behavior. He was dependable and even if a bit brash at times, he was consistent. He would not abandon his duty nor, more importantly, his friend.

With his worry increasing and time passing, Bofur decided he had no choice but to tell someone. As quickly as possible he found Bifur to relieve his overdue post and went in search of Thorin who, despite the early hour, was already awake. In spite of his hope, the toymaker saw no sigh of Fili on his way to the king. At lengthen he found Thorin in the small, private council room he favored. He was sitting before the fire when Bofur came in quickly, pausing for his breath for a moment before speaking.

"Thorin," Bofur's voice made the dwarf king look up, "I thought you should know," he hesitated, "Fili never showed up for his watch."

It took Thorin a moment to respond, concern quickly leaching into his features as he stirred from his slouched position and sat up. "You don't know where he is?"

The toymaker shook his head. "It's not like him," he said, the statement too apparent to need voiced. They both knew Fili's absence at his intended post was reason for apprehension. They both knew that's why Bofur had sought him out. Thorin felt worry stirring in his gut, immediately uneasy. He no longer had any tolerance or such circumstances. He had been hurt so deeply and too frequently that he could no longer help but assume the worst when his mind began conjuring outcomes for unfavorable situations.

"Has no one seen him?" Thorin asked next, knowing already that Bofur couldn't know the answer.

He was proven right when the other dwarf simply said, "I don't know. I haven't."

"We must go and ask the others," Thorin instructed as he rose from his seat. "If no one has seen him bring them back here to meet," he added, a distasteful mix of confusion and dread settling inside him.

It was a quarter of an hour before most of the company was gathered back in the council room, confirming that no one had recently seen their prince. They had quickly split and checked everywhere they thought he might be, finding no evidence that he was anywhere near. Thorin was miserable with concern by the time he returned to the council chamber and every eye looked to him expectantly, waiting to hear what he would have them do.

"When was he last seen?" he wondered aloud.

"Last night," Ori said, "I saw him on the battlements."

"Where could he possibly have gone?" Gloin asked.

"Are we certain he hasn't just lost sense of time by himself somewhere? He's favored solitude lately," Balin mentioned.

"Where haven't we checked?" Dwalin disagreed, adding to the voices speaking at once as they each tries to justify Fili's absence with reason. They were so loud that they nearly missed Bilbo's entrance as he arrived late, clearing his throat loudly before speaking.

"Thorin," he spoke over them until they quieted down and turned his way. He looked genuinely concerned and the apprehension in his face alone caused Thorin's heart to sink even before the hobbit spoke again. "Fili's weapons are missing."

Realization dawned quicker for some than others, but Thorin knew immediately that his worry had been justified . He watched Bilbo nod gently, confirming their shared understanding, a hateful, dreaded fear arising inside him.

"He's gone after Bolg," Thorin said breathlessly, barely able to believe the words he spoke any more than those around him could.

"You mean…by himself?" Bofur stammered.

Thorin nodded. "I should have known he would do something foolish," he said, not sure whether fear or anger was the stronger emotion making his voice tremble. All the signs had been there.

Confusion was one of the emotions Thorin had least expected when first he was met with loss. Knowing very well how he felt about his family, he thought his loss would be most clear. He knew exactly what had been taken. His hurt should be sharp and precise. But he'd been confused beyond measure when his kin was killed. He didn't know how he was supposed to act, wasn't sure even how he was meant to feel. He didn't know how to envision a future beyond his grief and certainly not one without those he had always loved and relied on. He had no idea how to gather the frayed scraps of his life, shredded most eagerly by cruel hands, and mend them back into some resemblance of safety, peace, and contentment. Confusion was an unimagined but entirely real part of grief, Thorin had learned. And Fili was not immune to its reach. Erebor's king had seen in his nephew's eyes the same lost uncertainty he had felt too many times. It evoked a search for answers, a desperate need to establish some goal, some purpose. Thorin's had been taking up the crown of Durin's folk and leading a kingdom. Fili's confusion, it seemed, had sought a different end.

Anger was a force known to be strong. There was no denying the rage in the wake of the tragic death of kin, and the greater still fury that came with the murder of a most beloved family member. Thorin had not been at all surprised by the anger pooled in Fili's irises, or the flames in his belly, fanned by the memory of a stolen brother. The blaze in Fili's blood was understandable. Thorin had no room or inclination to talk his nephew out of his rage. He never wished for Fili to become bitter and callused. But there was a little peace found in fury, a distraction from the grief. There was a strength in the fight that built up in a hurting heart, and Thorin had hoped that at least Fili's anger would help him in overcoming the grief that had weakened him so terribly. There was more than enough justification for the prince's feelings, and Thorin was willing to bear the brunt of some of Fili's outrage if it would, in the end, help him to heal. Still, Thorin had always known it could be dangerous.

Pain, the strongest emotion Thorin had ever felt, was by far the most capable of leading one to insanity. Thorin had felt the desperation of it many times before. The raw hurt, the placeless ache with no release at all was maddening. The frustration of a grief without any relief left one utterly hopeless. While rage was a flaming inferno of crimson, pain was dark. Sadness was the absence of color and warmth. Void of any sign of life or the possibility of one with any value after the loss of one so loved. Pain itself had the ability to inspire any other emotion, evoke any reaction. Thorin had come to know the power of a hurting heart. He had seen the influence pain had over reason. Its ability to banish reality in a haze of tortured conjurings, memories and fears blending until all that could be seen was the grief stitching them together. He knew how suddenly pain could overwhelm a bleeding soul. How far it could push a broken spirit. Yes, Thorin knew how frighteningly powerful pain could be in encouraging foolishness. And he had seen more pain in his nephew's eyes than he'd every before seen in anyone's.

He should have known. Fili's confusion, his anger, and pain had been obvious and had created something in his heart, a restless grief that stirred up recklessness inside him, an ache that begged to be filled.

All the signs had been there and Thorin hadn't been looking.

"We have to go after him before he…we need to go now," Thorin broke the stunned silence. There was no hesitation in his decision, no doubt in his course of action. He knew the cost of waiting, of trying to use reason, of delaying at all. He had thought his logic was sound when he organized his attempted rescue for Kili. He had ignored Fili's pleas to leave immediately, insisting they had to prepare and would only succeed if they heeded their heads rather than the frantic impulses of their hearts. He'd been wrong and he'd never been so sorry. He was too late to save Kili but it had taught him the lesson Fili had insisted upon. He would not wait this time. Not at all.

"All who are willing, gather your weapons and meet me at the gates. We'll leave immediately." He looked around the Company and, with a selfish relief, saw them all nod and move to comply. He would not have to go alone. The loyalty of his companions, his friends, was unflinching, always resolute in the face of every trial. He knew he was not worthy of it, and it weighted his heart with guilt. But he was ever so thankful for it all the same. Even little Bilbo came forward.

The hobbit, possibly for the first time since leaving the Shire, felt a desperation he couldn't will into submission. Even while he had always felt inept and ill prepared for the hardships they faced, he had always trusted that his companions were far more capable and experienced. He had been able to rely on the wisdom of Gandalf and the courage of the dwarves each time uncertainty and worry crept in. Even when he had heard of Kili's capture and was surrounded by unmanageable concern during their attempted rescue, he had never felt more desperate than hopeful. He had carried on with perhaps a naïve sense of optimism and a belief that all would work out just as it had always proven to before.

He'd been wrong of course. But still, there was never the chance for desperation for he had gone in a matter of seconds from hope to despair. Now, for what felt like the first time, Bilbo was fearful and he wasn't sure he had quite enough hope to adequately counteract it. Now, unlike before, he knew that devastation was a possibility, failure an option. And the reality of another friend lost to orcs was too much for the hobbit to bare. It was why he knew, quite instantly, that he had to go with Thorin and try to do what they hadn't been able to do for Kili. The thought of another perilous mission was enough to unsettle the mild, gentle heart of the hobbit entirely. The idea of it made Bilbo miss his home and armchairs and tea more than ever before. But the alternative, not helping to save Fili from a mistake that could kill him, was far more uncomfortable than the harsh dangers of the effort.

"I want to go too if you'll have me," he said. "I know I am no great warrior, but still, maybe I can help." Thorin couldn't stop the weak smile he offered the halfling. He couldn't say if it was Bilbo's faithfulness to the Company or his love for Fili that motivated him, but either was a more valued devotion than they deserved. Their burglar had proven himself over and over, far beyond Thorin's expectations and further still beyond any obligations demanded in the contract he had signed. But Thorin was not willing to allow mere loyalty or blind commitment rob him of another he cared for. There was a time he might have. A time when such things seemed more important than those who possessed them. Now though, he knew better.

"I would not have you risk your life again when I can offer you nothing in return. Your willingness means more than you know but I assure you, no one would think less of you if you remain here. Our good opinion of you would not so easily be lost."

"I should hope not," Bilbo smiled. There was a part of him, the Baggins part of him which longed for Hobbiton and safety, that considered Thorin's offer of a pass. There was a weary, frightened part of him that wanted nothing more to do with orcs, fighting, or death. That part of him, however small, begged him to accept Thorin's offer and remain in the Mountain and allow the others to face peril without him this time. But what kind of friend would that make him? And how could he live with himself if he did not do everything he could to make sure his friends lived at all? No, that was no choice at all.

"But I want to go," Bilbo said. "I feel a part of this group now and I do not want any harm to befall Fili, not when I could do something. Please, allow me to come."

Thorin marveled at the hobbit's insistence. He thought it very unlikely that Bilbo would be able to aid them in such a venture, but then, the hobbit had surprised him a great many times already. Either way, he was more grateful for Bilbo's company than he would have admitted only a few weeks prior.

"In that case master Baggins," Thorin told him, fondness and gratitude making his throat tight, "we would once again be honored to have you. After all, if it is the courage of one's heart that makes a warrior you are surely that. Just hurry," he added.

O O O

Thorin had just left the armory and was heading towards the gates, so deep in his own thoughts that he collided most directly with a young dwarf near his nephew's age, startling the lad as much as himself. Thorin recognized him quickly as one who had accompanied Dis from Ered Luin. He didn't know the younger dwarf well, but he remembered the lad being among Fili and Kili's playmates when they were small, and he had seen him in the training ring on occasion when he was older. His name was Leidan. He was dressed now in a light armor and, aside for the surprised look on his face, appeared rather intentional in whatever his endeavor. He took a step back quickly to separate himself from Thorin and hastily bowed his head as he cleared his throat.

"King Thorin," the boy said, "I was just coming to see when we are to leave?"

Immediately the lad's armor made sense and Thorin realized he meant to accompany them in their pursuit of Fili. He had been so relieved his Company had agreed to come that he hadn't considered others might be willing too. Something about the readiness in the lad's young face made Thorin's gut clinch even as he shook his head.

"I should have been more clear, I have enough with me. I need you and the rest to stay here. We need as many as possible to hold the Mountain. There's no saying who might try to take advantage of our absence," he told him.

The look of disappointment in the younger dwarf's face was immediately evident and for a scares moment Thorin almost changed his mind. But he didn't have the time to question his choices or indulge the young, untested warrior before him.

"But I can help," Leidan pleaded, "if you'll only let me." Those words were much too eager and far too familiar for Thorin to accept their offer. They sounded immediately like another voice from a night in Ered Luin, a tone that sounded something close to a beg pleading for his consent. He should have refused. But he hadn't.

"You can help by remaining here and protecting Erebor," Thorin insisted. "You can explain what has happened to Dis when she returns, and make sure she doesn't do anything foolish." Leidan made an appearance of opening his mouth as if to protest but changed his mind and accepted his defeat with a weak nod of discontent.

Thorin could well understand the lad's displeasure and it was not without justification. Perhaps, he realized, there was not much reason in taking a hobbit while refusing a skilled warrior. But Thorin was beyond reason. The eagerness in the young dwarf's face looked too similar to another's whose bright eyes and ready grin would torture Thorin with its absence for the rest of his life. There was something in Leidan's loose hair and the scarless hand which gripped the hilt at his side that made Thorin burn with grief. This lad reminded him too much of Kili. The Mountain King could not see pass the other dwarf's youth nor could he ignore the similarities between Leidan's brashness and impatience for action and his dead nephew. He would not see this lad killed needlessly, not matter the desperation that shown in the youth's eyes.

"Please just stay here," Thorin said, this time a bit more gently. "Tell my sister I will bring Fili back to her. I swear it." As he turned to leave he stopped, a sick weight in his stomach giving form to the opposition sounding in his head. He realized quickly that he was a liar. He had already lied to Dis when he told her that her sons would be fine and kept safe on the Quest. He had lied to Fili when he promised they would get Kili back alive. Or even at all. He could be lying now. There was no assurance that he would succeed this time any more than last and recover his nephew before disaster fell. Thorin realized despite his sincerity, a promise to save Fili now meant nothing at all. Because it could be the last thing he tried to do. And he could fail. He could fail to save Fili from the destruction he was undoubtedly walking into and he could die trying. Thorin did not want to lie to his sister again and he certainly didn't want it to be the last thing he ever did in regards to her.

"Wait," he said to Leidan as he met the lad's face again, "no." He paused for just a moment before continuing. "Tell her I will bring him back or die trying." Thorin didn't wait to see Leidan's troubled face as he walked away, nor did he dwell on the selfishness of his words. He was telling his sister that she would see them both again or neither ever again. It was not fair and some might even call it cruel. Dis was the least deserving of loss or even the fear of it. But Dis needed to know he would stop at absolutely nothing to recover Fili. She needed to know he would not return empty handed again while he kept his life and her loved ones died. Thorin also knew he could not face his sister's grief. Not again. If it were to come, he would not be there to witness it. With a selfish desperation he hoped he would succeed or die trying rather than fail and live. He couldn't bare that.

O O O

Dis, Dhiran, and Gandalf left Dale as soon as they had finished their council with Bard. Dis had wished to leave immediately the previous night, forgoing her meeting in favor of informing her brother of the impending attack on the Mountain and the possibility of prisoners still living in their keep. She didn't say so, but both she and the wizard knew that the second reason was far more an incentive than any amount of common sense would ever allow. The raw, foolish, and unspoken hope that Kili could be among them was enough for his mother to forget all the sense she had always been praised for. She had readily ignored Gandalf's reminder of the duty she had taken upon herself when joining Dhiran. Dis had not, however, been so easily able to reason her way out of his next argument; the wizard reminding her that they would need all the allies and support they could get if they were going to survive an orc attack. With firm reluctance on the part of Dis, Gandalf was at length able to convince her to wait one night more and leave the next morning after their meeting.

The princess of Erebor was not able to put Dale at her back quickly enough once their council adjourned. They were on their way at once back to the Lonely Mountain. It was strange now how eager she's been to escape said Mountain and go to Dale two days prior. She had longed for the distraction and been fervent about fulfilling the role of ambassador. Had demanded it even. But now nothing could keep her there.

Now everything she did, everything she was, pulsed with anticipation, an eagerness calling her back to Erebor, something like dread settling in her stomach. She needed to know if the orcs did indeed still keep prisoners. There was nothing more important anymore than finding out if her son could still be in need of rescue, if there was even a possibility that there was life left to preserve. Even the slightest chance carried in Gandalf's words were enough to overwhelm Dis and mute her to everything else. The hope in those words changed absolutely everything. If there was any possibility that Kili was alive there was nothing that would stop her from pursing every effort to recover him.

But she had already said goodbye. She had already faced her son's death. Only days ago they had buried his memory. Doing it again would be worse. Laying these hopes down at Kili's tomb and walking away from a dead child and dead hopes which served only to torment her would be worse than doing it the first time. Dis was not at all sure she could survive anything worse. It was foolish, indeed everything that was unwise, to throw sense and her painfully, carefully constructed composure to the winds that never seemed to blow in her favor and grapple for a hope so frail and capable of destroying her.

But how could she not? How could she silence the stirring in her heart, so violent that she could hardly breath? How could she ignore the burning inside her, bright and hungry as it latched on to a possibility she had wished for so desperately for so long? How many times had she wished she would wake from the nightmare she dwelled in, so certain at times that she would? Besides, she realized, she was already destroyed. The fear of another blow never had a chance of convincing Dis to turn her back on the single hope she had longed for with more of her soul than she'd ever known she had.

Kili was the only thing she could think of. And not the dead Kili. Not the stone table with the blade that was meant to symbolize his resting place. Not the realization that she would never see him again. Not the grief that assailed her mind every time thoughts of him visited it. Not memories of his smile, a thing that now only belonged in the past. No. Dis thought of Kili with the orcs. Hurt and alone. Alive. Now she could only wonder if there was any chance it was true. When they passed a weak stream that escaped the confines of the lake and reached for the Mountain before dying out into the soft ground, his mother could see Kili's face in the water, could hear his laugh in the ripples. But those things were soon replaced with the silent uncertainty of his fate, Dis's aggressive heartbeat pondering the likelihood that he could have somehow escaped death.

Kili was the only thing she could think of. Until suddenly they were back at Erebor, rushing through the gates and were met by a young dwarf Dis had traveled with from Ered Luin. He was speaking to her as her eyes looked for her brother, the lad's words only truly reaching her when she heard "they've gone."

"Who?" she turned to him sharply. She already knew. They weren't there to greet her even though they would be.

"Fili, Thorin, and the rest of the Company," Leidan answered.

"Where?" she pressed quickly, though the look on his face made her wonder if he had already said when she wasn't listening.

"The orcs were passing by not far West. Fili went after them alone and Thorin followed."

"Alone?" she repeated. It wasn't really a question. She'd heard him the first time and she wasn't surprised, or not nearly as much as she thought she should be. Some part of her had known her son well enough to know he was desperate beyond all reason. She had recognized the tremble in his voice and darkness in his eyes. She'd seen that fury and fear before. There was no doubt in her mind that Thorin would have gone after Frerin's killers without hesitation had the opportunity presented itself. She'd always been glad it hadn't. But knowing her son had taken that same opportunity, while not stunning, horrified Dis.

"He'll be killed," she said, as blunt and gut-wrenching as any statement could be. She knew if he faced the orcs alone he would die. Only moments ago she'd been consumed by improbable hopes that her youngest son had escaped fate's devices and had maybe been spared for them with any aid of fortune. But she was under no delusions now. Dis knew Fili was heading to his death. She could not lose her child. Not again.

"Thorin and Company are not far behind. They may reach him in time. Thorin promised to bring him back," Leidan told her. He did not finish the statement. He could not imagine any good in telling Dis what her brother had really said. And so, while he took no pride in defying his king, Leidan found wisdom in silence.

"Where are they going?" Dis asked quickly, having decided immediately that she would follow them. Leidan's words, while meant to be comforting, did little. She needed to go after Fili. To see him again. To hold him in her arms. To scream at him for his selfish foolishness.

"You will never reach them in time," Gandalf spoke up. "But I might have a chance if I go alone." His words made Dis burn with anger.

"How dare you try to stop me. He's my son," she spat.

"I don't need to stop you. I know already that you will do what is best for your family," the wizard said, causing Dis to tremble with fury, partly for his pretention and partly because she knew he was right. He would be able to move much faster alone. Without another word Gandalf headed for the gates with Leidan as the young dwarf explained all he knew of their location. Dis took a dozen rushed steps in pursuit before stopping, fear making her rage swell and tears burn her irises. She shook and ached. She was left standing alone, without her family, without any assurance of their safety, and without anything to do about it.

She stood in the doorway of her home in Ered Luin watching their backs until the sunlight washed their silhouettes way. Tears brimmed her eyes and she had to draw deep breaths to steady her hands. As she shielded her face in an effort to get one more glimpses, she couldn't help wondering how long it would take them to reclaim the Mountain. How long it would be until she saw them again. Months? Could it be years? The rest of her lifetime? She had shuddered then, the thought of them never succeeding, never returning overwhelming her. Her family, all of them, had packed up and walked out her door, her bright eyed children promising to go get her home back.

Again Dis stood alone. Again her family had disappeared into peril. And it struck her then, as terror and grief choked her, just how foolish her sons were. They fought to give her back her home. She shook her head as wetness dripped down her cheeks. A pained, humorless, enraged laugh fell past her lips, all composure lost. Didn't they know it could never be home without them?

O O O

For the first time since he'd sank into the mud and ash and blood outside of Gundabad and knew with a wretched certainly that his brother was dead, Fili felt something that resembled peace.

It wasn't. Not really.

At least nothing like the peace he had known in the Blue Mountains, the soft breeze often cool but not cold, the smell of cape jasmine perfuming the air, the stars bold in the night skies. Fili had known absolute peace there with his family, Kili's steady breathing next to him as constant as the chirps and calls and whistles of the wild evening lullaby. That was utter peace and nothing like the lapse of agony he now chose to claim as peace; perhaps the closest thing he would ever get to it now. Would it really get any better? Everyone told him it would with time. Promised it. But how would they know how much and how quickly he would heal when they could not imagine the loss he felt? Fili was still convinced no one could truly understand the depths of his grief, not even his uncle and mother. His pain felt unfamiliar, untouched before like no one else had ever known anything like it. He knew it was not possible to ever heal completely and what mending he would do would take the rest of his lifetime he was sure.

But for the moment he chose to be content with the quiet peace he found in the absolute solitude and escape from Erebor. It was the first time since the day his brother was taken that he'd been alone without fear of being interrupted and forced into company. The night was warmer than most had been the past few weeks and Fili was thankful for that too. Considering the rage that had bubbled inside him and driven him from Erebor's gates in pursuit of the orcs, Fili was surprised by the calm he felt now. The rage wasn't gone, only settled. Waiting. He knew he would need that fury when the time came to face the orcs, but for now, settled into his camp for the night in the grasses that laid in the rocky plains north of Mirkwood, Fili decided to be content. If Tauriel's report was accurate, he knew he should be able to catch up to Bolg's pack as they moved north the next day. He could follow safely from a distant until they stopped for the night and then… well he had only one goal then. He felt a hint of rage flicker in his belly as he thought about all the things they deserved, and pushed it away with a calming breath. Not yet.

He laid back in the long grass that folded gentle and soft beneath him and watched the sky. He had always enjoyed stargazing and had done it many times in the past. Sometimes it was by himself and somethings with Kili. It was never as peaceful with his sibling because his kid brother could never stay quiet for long.

"Look how they're getting brighter. Hey, you can see them more clearly over there now. I think I saw a shooting star!"

Kili was all eagerness and excitement. Always. Fili would just lie there and smile without a word, letting Kili entertain himself while the elder prince soaked in the night sky. It wasn't as peaceful with Kili but it was more fun. And if ever Fili had to choose he always invited his brother to join him most readily.

Perhaps his calm was simply defeat disguised as peace. There was a broken, beaten quietude in accepting his loss. Slowly and painfully Fili had begun to accept a future life of bruised happiness and missing joys. Every celebration laced with sorrow. Every joyful moment shadowed by lingering grief. Every pleasant day darkened by a persisting sadness. Now every fond memory would be painful because nearly all of them were made alongside Kili. Everywhere Fili walked would be a ghost of his brother's smile. Everywhere he turned would be the echo of his brother's laugh reminding him what he had lost.

He knew now every special occasion would pull on his heart, the empty space beside him feeling bare and empty. But it would be the daily things that hurt the most. The moments when Kili had always been there and now would never be again. His tired face in the morning. His grin when their meal was placed before them. His bright eyes when they journey out of doors to a nearby town on errands. His laugh in delight of his own joke. It would be the habits what would be so painful to break. To stop looking towards his brother for a smile or to see that he was alright. Stopping himself for glancing around in an almost constant search for Kili would take years to quit, perhaps it would never leave him. It hurt both when he did and if he didn't. Every time Fili looked to his side and saw only emptiness he would feel the loss in his chest anew. But to stop looking would be forgetting and that was easily as painful. Maybe more. He did not want to forget a moment of his life with Kili. And he did not want to erase the life he had so loved with his brother always next to him.

He knew now there would always be dreams left unachievable. Hopes that could never be realized. Plans that would never reach their intent. Fili knew that he would never again be as happy as he was before. It occurred to him that Kili would disapprove of his decided discontent. But it wasn't something he chose, rather something fate had forced into his hands and he couldn't let go of no matter what he tried.

For the first time since his death Fili truly wondered what Kili would think of what he was doing. Everyone had been telling Fili to think of his brother and what he would want. If asked, Fili would have said he did. But now, he realized he had never really considered it like they'd told him he should. He knew immediately what Kili would think. He wouldn't want him to do it. The youngest prince would say it wasn't worth it. Too dangerous. He'd say Fili had no business risking his life just to avenge him. He'd want Fili to do whatever it took to stay safe. Fili was certain those would be Kili's feelings on the matter and he could very nearly hear his brother's words even now, telling him to use his head and pleading for him not to do something stupid. Fili was sure because that's exactly what he would want Kili to do if their places were reversed. He would never want Kili to endanger himself in pursuit of his killers. He would never want Kili to endanger himself at all.

For a moment Fili felt guilt swell up inside his throat. How could he in good conscious do exactly what he knew Kili would hate? How could he ignore his dead sibling's wishes so completely? But then he knew, without a doubt, that if their places were reversed, Kili would do the exact same thing. He would be lying in the same place, waiting to spring the same attack on the orcs that slayed his brother. Kili would probably have gone after them even sooner. Fili was certain that Kili would not heed his wishes any more than he was heeding his little brother's. They were too alike, cut from the same stubborn cloth and stitched together the same way.

Fili knew his family was right. Kili would only want him to be safe and happy. But Kili would know, when they couldn't, that it was impossible. Kili would know that Fili couldn't live with his rage and his grief while Bolg lived. Kili would know there was no choice to be made, only the dawn to wait for and vengeance nearly in sight.