Warning: trigger warning and gross out warning for puking

Thorin watched as his young nephews slept in the heat of the morning sun. They had walked on for several days after splitting from the company. Their pace had been unbearably slow because of the heat and their deteriorating health. They could only travel at night and in the early hours of the morning, as by noon, it became too hot to travel. They managed only a few miles at a time.

They had gone up and over the mountains, and it took more than a week to reach the River Lune at their devastatingly slow pace. The river had been slow moving, allowing them to cross and continue on, going east into Hobbiton. Finally, after two full weeks, they would reach the shire by nightfall. From there, they could head for Bree. The town of men would be their first place of refuge. Thorin thought he could find work there and decide upon their next course of action.

He just had to get them that far. As he looked down at Fili and Kili, he feared for them both. At least Fili had finally allowed him and Kili to take a look at his untreated orc wound. It showed signs of infection and they had done their best to bind it properly. He seemed to improve for the moment, and his pace had quickened.

The heat spell was relentless. Thorin could not remember a time in memory when this part of Middle Earth had baked like this. The river shrank and became still and unhealthy to drink from, and mosquitos and other insects buzzed around them relentlessly. The grass was a golden brown color, and the heat had caused many animals to die or move away and plants died as well. This problem was taking its toll on Thorin and his nephews. They had sometimes been lucky and had caught fish or a rabbit, but mostly, they were living off of berries and insects. They had gone many days without a full meal and that, coupled with heat sickness and a lack of fresh water, was having a devastating effect on all three of them.

Thorin moved over to wake Kili. Shaking him gently, he swallowed hard when his youngest nephew opened his eyes to look up at him. He looked terrible. He was in the early stages of starvation and of dehydration and was beginning to look emaciated. His eyes were shrunken in and Thorin could see the way his body trembled. His hair and tunic- which hung in rags by now- were still damp from a recent dip in the river.

Thorin remembered the devastating effects of starvation. In the time after they had been forced from Erebor, before they had made their home in the Blue Mountains, many of his people had died of starvation. He had never imagined he would have to watch his beloved nephews succumb to this.

"Come on, we need to make a few miles before it gets too hot," Thorin said, helping Kili to his feet. "With any luck, we can make it to the shire by tonight."

"Alright..." Kili responded weakly, swaying a little on his feet. Thorin felt the pains of hunger and thirst as well, and knew he didn't look much better.

"I was dreaming of Mother's roasted mutton," Kili said with a small smile as Thorin turned to Fili. "And ale and fresh cheese!"

Thorin's stomach lurched painfully at the thought of food, "Sounds delightful," he said as he reached out to touch Fili on the shoulder.

Fili moaned as Thorin shook him gently. But to his concern, the blonde dwarf didn't move. Kili frowned as he and Thorin exchanged concerned glances. Fili lay on his side, curled in slightly. Gently, Thorin tried to wake him again.

"Fili," he said firmly, "Come on, we must continue on."

Thorin's concern grew when Fili only coughed in response. Slowly, he rolled his nephew over onto his back and paled when his hand brushed against Fili's face. It was hot and his skin was flushed with heat, but took on a strange yellowish tint.

"Can't..." Fili gasped out, as he shivered slightly, "Hurts..."

"What's wrong?" Kili asked, moving closer, "Fili?"

"He has a fever," Thorin responded as he undid the bandages he and Kili had made of torn cloth. "Another infection, I think."

But when Thorin pulled up Fili's tunic to reveal his stab wound, he furrowed a brow in confusion. The wound showed no sign of infection and seemed to be healing slowly but steadily.

"I don't understand," he mused, replacing the bandages. "Fili, what hurts?"

"Everything…" Fili moaned. His shivering became more pronounced.

"Can we try to find Oin?" Kili suggested. Thorin sighed and shook his head.

"I wouldn't know where to look for him," he said, trying to think. He knew little about medicine and had no clue what could be ailing his eldest nephew. "We have to get him to the shire. Maybe the hobbits can help."

Thorin gathered his strength as he gathered Fili into his arms. His golden-haired nephew was very light now, his body reduced by hunger. Thorin slowly rose to his feet, wobbling slightly.

"Come," he said to Kili. Thorin moved on, slowly, with Fili in his arms. Kili stumbled along, and Thorin worried for him as well. The hunger and the heat were proving difficult for the younger brunette dwarf.

They walked on along the river and as the temperature climbed and the day wore on. They should have stopped long ago as the heat was becoming intense, but fear for Fili's life prodded them onwards. The blonde dwarf drifted in and out of consciousness in Thorin's arms.

Thorin gasped as he stumbled on, the sun beating down on him as they came out of the forest and onto the rolling hillsides. He was moving on pure adrenaline, the only thing keeping him from collapsing. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and his hair hung damply to his face. He kept glancing behind him to check on Kili, and each time, he was alarmed by how Kili seemed to stagger along.

As evening brought little relief from the sun, Thorin saw signs of life ahead. Small stone walls and hobbit holes.

"Almost there, Kili..." the king announced as he shuffled Fili in his arms. He hesitated when he got no response. He came to a halt before peering behind him. "Kili?"

Kili had collapsed. Thorin hurried to him and gently laid Fili down. "Kili!" he exclaimed, "Come on Kili, you must get up!"

"Can't…" Kili responded, rolling onto his back. His skin was flushed, and he was no longer sweating. Kili was succumbing to heat sickness. "Sorry, Uncle… so hungry… it's so hot… my head..."

Thorin ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and tried not to panic as he glanced from Fili to Kili. He was losing them both. He had lost so much already, and he needed them.

"No!" he cried. "I refuse to lose you both!" He gathered them both into his arms and pulled them to the river. Taking Kili first, he waded into the river with him, wetting his face and hair, and slowly spooning water into his mouth. Kili coughed and gasped for breath, his skin turning red and flushed. Thorin gently but urgently deposited him back onto the banks and took Fili into his arms, careful to avoid getting his wound wet.

Fili moaned like a wounded animal. That yellow tint on his skin was more noticeable. Thorin winced in fear as he gently wet him with the water. Finally, he returned to the banks with him- just in time to see Kili getting sick into grass before toppling over onto his back, utterly exhausted.

"It's going to be okay," Thorin assured them both. And himself. He tried to think. Neither of them could stand, let alone walk. How was he going to get them to the shire? Turning to glance behind him, he narrowed in on the closest hobbit hole. A small one with a small green door a short distance away. He just had to get them there.

Thorin was weak and ill with starvation and thirst himself, and the thought of carrying his two nephews was troubling. If he had been at full strength, the task would be quite easy, especially in their emaciated states. But now, with his strength faltering…

Taking a breath, he willed his frenzied mind to concentrate on the task at hand. Slowly and gently, he lifted Fili and draped his thin body over his left shoulder. He sat for a moment, allowing his body to adjust to Fili's weight on his shoulder, slight though it was. Once he had one nephew in place, time for the other. Slowly and with one hand, he tugged at Kili and lifted him up and nestled him onto his other shoulder.

Slowly, and using every ounce of strength he had, Thorin Oakenshield rose to his feet. He wobbled and his knees buckled, his legs threatened to give way under him. But he refused to let them. Groaning and holding onto his precious cargo, he took one step, then another. Then a third then- he was interrupted as he heard- and felt- Fili getting sick on him.

"Sorry…" He heard Fili mutter weakly as he dangled from his uncle's shoulder. Thorin couldn't help but smile as he imagined his nephew's embarrassed expression at having gotten sick on his king.

"It's alright, my Lad," he replied, as he continued to walk, closer and closer to the hobbit hole, "Just stay with me."

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Thorin arrived, panting and exhausted, on the doorstep of the little Hobbit hole, the one with the mailbox marked Bag End, and then promptly collapsed.