AN – Sorry this one took so long. Real life was kicking me around for a bit there, but I'm back! (Also I don't like this chapter but I hope you do!)
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I still own nothing. Enjoy!
Warnings: Violence, blood, little bit of gore, canonical character death (in a flashback), somebody gets sick, angsty, angsty angst.
Greater than Gold
Chapter 8: Twenty-five and Nineteen
By Displaced Hobbit
"And just what do you think you're doing out here?" Dwalin grumbles from behind him.
Fili jumps in shock as his heart leaps up into his throat, the knife that he was twirling in his palm clattering uselessly to the ground. He wasn't supposed to get caught, not by Dwalin, of all people.
"Nothing," he lies lamely as he reaches down to pick up his knife. Dwalin's foot stamps down on it before he does, just narrowly missing his fingers. He gives an indigent shout when the warrior grabs him by his hood and starts to haul him away from the entrance to the mines.
"Hey!" he shouts out as he struggles to get free. "Let go of me!"
Surprisingly, Dwalin acquiesces, by throwing him down to the ground.
"I'll bet Clach and Clavin's shift ends soon, at sundown," he comments dryly. Fili swallows audibly, eyes following his instructor as he takes a few steps back to retrieve the lad's knife. "And you've got no business in the mines to speak of," he continues, tone making it obvious that Fili had better explain himself or else.
"I was going to check on the materials we requested for the forge," he explains, but Dwalin cuts him off with a stern glare.
"You know, neither you nor your brother have ever been any good at telling lies."
Fili flushes with embarrassment, but makes to stand up and brush himself off instead. Dwalin responds by shoving him back down to the ground once more.
"Do you know what the punishment is for murder?" he snaps, and Fili feels very small under his stern gaze.
"It wouldn't even be murder; it would be justice –"
"Enough!" Dwalin shouts. "It would be murder, two counts of it, and you would be executed. Nar wouldn't care about your princely status or about how few little dwarflings we have left." He growls roughly. "You would be executed, and then where would your brother and your uncle be?" He throws Fili's knife to the ground, watches as it buries itself in the dirt just between the lad's feet.
"I wasn't going to kill them," he mumbles lamely. "I just wanted to scare them."
"So you want to be the bully yourself then?" Dwalin snarls. "After all those idiots put your brother through, you would sink to their level?"
Fili snaps his head up to look at him. "What? No! I wouldn't…" His words escape him and he falls silent again, stares at the knife where it is embedded in the ground. Shame creeps in on him as he realizes with a sinking feeling that Dwalin is right. "Please don't tell Uncle."
Dwalin scoffs. "Your uncle has enough to worry about without you acting like an idiot. You'd best start learning how to handle yourself, before you get yourself into trouble and no one's around to get you out."
Fili wants to thank him, but he knows better than to do so when the warrior is so incised, so he settles for chewing anxiously on his bottom lip.
"Listen well to me, boy," Dwalin growls. "If I ever catch you near the mines again without purpose, I will throttle you myself."
Fili nods. "Yes, Mister Dwalin," he mumbles.
The warrior grabs him by the shoulder and yanks him back up. "Get that knife of yours and come with me. You're going to be working in the forge all night, lad."
He groans at the punishment, but he knows that he deserves far worse. He hadn't been thinking, not at all. The idea had come to him not an hour ago, to be waiting outside the mines when those wretched boys got off from their shift, idly sharpening his knives to remind them of just who's little brother they had assaulted. It had been a stupid thought, so, so stupid, he knew, but he was so tired of feeling helpless.
He wanted justice. It had been months since they had attacked him, but Kili still hadn't regained full use of his arm. A few weeks after the incident, Oin had noticed that the bone wasn't healing correctly, and he'd broken it again to reset it and give it a chance to heal correctly. The arm still gave Kili a great deal of pain, though he was good at hiding it (not to him though; Kili could never hide anything from him); he wasn't able to support his weight with it and he could barely participate in sparring lessons, all because of them. He hadn't even been able to shoot his bow, not with the level of pain that just pulling gave him.
He felt the now familiar rush of anger bubble up inside of him once more. Dwalin was right; he needed to learn how to get a better handle on his emotions. He was as hot headed as his uncle, though much less skilled at managing it. He clinched his fists at his sides, willed himself to calm down.
Dwalin turned to make sure he was following him, and his stern expression melted into something softer when he noticed the lad's distress. With a sigh, he walked back to Fili and patted a hand on his shoulder, urging him to walk with him.
"Come on, lad," he said quietly. "Trust me, a few good hours of hitting iron with a hammer will do wonders for your anger. S'what your uncle does, anyhow."
In the morning, when they finally leave the forge, Fili admits that he was right.
Thorin rubbed his face tiredly with his free hand. In the other, he held a salvaged blueprint of the great halls of Erebor, one that he was studying over at Nar's request to see how it could be adapted to build a similar set of halls in the Blue Mountains. He jumped, nearly dropping the print in surprise, as thunder boomed throughout their modest home. Sure enough, it was followed by the sound padding feet from the boys' room.
"Uncle?" Kili called sleepily from the hall. Thorin smiled softly and set the piece of parchment down.
"In here," he called, and not a moment later the door to his study creaked open. The lad's hair was mussed from sleep, and he blinked blearily at the soft candlelight in the room. Thorin offered him a warm smile before gesturing him over. Without further invitation, Kili crawled up into his lap, mindful of the scrolls he had strewn about the desk in front of him. He pressed his face against his uncle's neck and sighed heavily.
"It's just a storm lad," he chided, but slid an arm around him anyway. Kili had been afraid of the thunder for as long as he could remember, and he truly couldn't blame him. The thunder seemed to shake the very core of the mountain, as though it came from deep within the earth rather than up in the sky. It made him wonder if the tales Bofur always told of massive stone giants coming to life and hurtling rock at one another were actually true.
Yet, for as easily as the storms always woke Kili, Fili could sleep straight through them, which meant that his youngest nephew usually sought him out, instead of attempting to rouse his brother. As it was, Thorin was sleeping less and less these days, with trying to assist Nar with the building of the Great Halls and keeping up with correspondences about the fate of Erebor and that wretched dragon.
"So?" Kili grumbled, and he chuckled lightly.
"How will you ever be able to fight off orcs and goblins if you're frightened by a little bit of thunder?" he mused.
S'not the same," the lad protested. "And you and Mister Dwalin said I'm too little to do any fighting anyhow."
He chuckled again before pressing a kiss against his forehead. "That is true," he conceded, lifting the blueprint to focus on it once more. Thunder boomed again and Kili started against him, so he hugged the lad just a little bit tighter.
"What's that?" the boy asked as he tangled his hand in his uncle's hair. It usually worked well to simply distract Kili until the storm had passed, so he was glad for the easy opportunity.
"This, little one," he said as he ran his fingers across the parchment. "This shows the halls of Erebor."
Kili frowned. "It's not a very good picture," he complained lightly. "Not like the other ones, at least."
Thorin hummed in agreement. The blueprints definitely paled in comparison to the lavish sketches and paintings of the great halls he had shown the lads before. "It's not a picture, not in the sense that you are used to, at least. It's a plan. It shows where all the rooms go and the like."
Kili perked up a bit at the explanation. "Where's your room?"
"I was still a lad when we lived in Erebor, just about as old as your brother is, now," he explained as he gestured to an area on the parchment. "But the royal apartments were back here, deep within the mountain."
Kili wrinkled his nose. "I wouldn't like to be so far underground," he murmured. Thorin smiled softly, knowing this to be true. Kili hated be cooped up in their own modest home for too long, hated to be away from the fresh air and the sunshine and the wilderness. It was part of why some of the dwarflings called him an elfling, for Kili had always preferred the wilds to being deep underground.
"It wasn't so bad," he mused. "These rooms, here," he murmured as he gestured to a cluster of four squares in the royal apartments. "These belonged to your mum, Frerin, and to myself. We used the spare room for our adventures."
Thunder boomed again, but Kili barely started. "Adventures?" he gasped, excited. "What kind of adventures?"
He chuckled lightly before lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, some days, we would each build our own fortresses, and rule the three greatest dwarf kingdoms Middle Earth had ever seen. Other days we would go out hunting orcs and goblins, and still other days we would craft some of the finest things you've ever seen in our make-believe forge."
He feels his eyes grow misty at the memories. He hoped the lad wouldn't notice, but the small hand cupping his cheek let him know that he had. Kili always noticed, so perceptive he was of others. So like Frerin.
"You could still go on adventures like that, with me and Fee," he says after a moment of contemplation.
He presses a kiss against the boy's forehead. "I'm a bit too old for such adventures, little one," he murmurs.
Kili peers up at him, curious. "But going back to Erebor will be an adventure, won't it?" He frowned slightly. "You're not too old for that."
Thorin gives him a warm smile, one that is becoming increasingly rare and is reserved for only his nephews (and sometimes Dwalin, when his old friend manages to pull it out from him). "Indeed. It will be a great adventure. One that I am not yet too old for," he pauses to tap lightly at Kili's nose, "and for which you are not yet old enough."
Kili's frown deepens. "Would you go without me? If I'm still not old enough when it's time?"
He sighs, sets the blueprints down and pushes the child's hair back from his face. "I would not have you hurt, little one," he murmurs, his eyes flickering quickly to the lad's still healing arm. "But I would not fret over it. It will be many years yet before we will leave to take back our homeland. We will decide when the time comes."
The lad sniffles, clearly not satisfied with his answer. "Mister Balin says that you'll leave me. You'll leave me and you'll take Fee because he's your heir."
Thorin frowns slightly. He knows that Balin is only trying to help by letting the boys know all of the possibilities for their futures, and he knows in his heart that he would never allow Kili to accompany them on their quest, not when he is the spare, not when his sweet, little Kili would be expected to forfeit his life in favor of his brother's or his uncle's. Yet, he also does not know what the future will bring, what the world will be when they are ready to start their quest. If Kili has reached his majority by the time they depart, he will have taken his oath to protect his brother and his uncle with his life, and there would be little Thorin could do to stop him.
He shakes his head, wills the thoughts away. "We will see what happens when the time comes, my boy," he murmurs. "I am no seer; I cannot tell you what the future will bring." Kili's head drops back down to his shoulder and the lad sighs heavily. "Though you must know, Kili, there will be journeys that I must take, ones that Fili must accompany me one, ones that you will be too young for."
"I'm not that much younger than Fee," he protests, and Thorin shushes him quietly.
"Balin will start to teach you of your duties soon," he explains. "Fili is the crown prince, he is my heir, and his responsibilities are vastly different from yours. If we are called to court, then Fili and I must attend. You, you are the second prince; you will not be expected to attend such things, even when you are of age, unless you are specifically requested."
Kili sighs, flinches at bit at the loud burst of thunder that follows his uncle's explanation.
Thorin pulls the lad away a bit to see his face, and frowns at the tears he sees pooling in his eyes. "Know this, my little Kili," he all but whispers as he cups the lad's cheek. "If I must ever leave you behind, it is not because I do not care for you. I would have both of you safe at my side every moment of every day if I could."
Kili still doesn't look convinced, but he nods anyway, and Thorin pulls him close to his chest. It is a while before the storm passes, but when the last, light rumbles of thunder have faded away, he is please to hear the lad's breathing deep and even with sleep. With a sigh, he lifts himself up and deposits the lad in his own bed, smiling softly when Fili grumbles at the slight disruption of his sleep before curling around his brother.
Balin's warnings echo in his head as he slides their door closed and prepares for sleep. You coddle them so. They're far too close. Get them their own beds. Kili is too old for tears. If we were in Erebor, none of this would be proper. He knows it all. He knows he hasn't raised them to be proper princes, but they haven't even had a home to be proper princes in, so he can't bother to care too much. He's raised them to be good, loving, normal dwarrow boys, and that is what they are.
Yet he knows the days when all of that will start to change are ominously close at hand.
It's the scream that pulls him back from his bloodlust, stops the roaring in his ears, cuts short the elation he feels as he watches the pale orc being tossed back into the abyss, blood rushing freely from his stump of an arm, to let him die in the filth of his wounds. He'd have followed them, cut the head from the orc's shoulders to avenge his grandfather, but the scream from directly behind him pulls him back; the scream from a young dwarfling who by all rights shouldn't be on the battlefield in the first place.
He turns in time to see the orc yank its sword free of his baby brother's chest, just in time to see it kick him to the ground before raising its sword once again, to kill him, and the bloodlust swells up in him again.
It takes him less than a minute to slash the foul creature into bits, with such rage that it scares all of the nearby orcs off. The filth know they have been defeated, and they all scramble back to their holes and caves, but he can't be bothered to chase any of them down.
As quickly as it came, the bloodlust fades away, and he feels empty, drained, exhausted as he lets his sword fall from shaking fingertips as he sinks to his knees at his brother's side.
"Frerin," he murmurs softly as he pulls the lad to his chest, breath catching in his throat at how young he looks (how young he is, is mind reminds) as he pushes the hair from his face. He coughs up blood, the jagged, horrific wound in his chest lets his blood flow freely, but still his brother reaches a shaking hand up to his cheek. He grabs it and holds it there, the din of the battleground fading away as he looks at his brother's ashen face.
"You're…okay…?" Frerin rasps out.
He swallows around the lump in his throat as he uselessly presses his hand against the wound to stop the bleeding. Frerin is going to die, there's not a doubt in his mind, but damn him if he can't stay strong enough to help his brother pass into the afterlife. He doesn't trust his voice, so he nods.
A small smile spreads its way across his face. "Good," he mumbles. "Couldn't let them…"
"Shhh, Frerin," he chokes out, dismayed at how wrecked he sounds. He's just lost his grandfather, has no idea where his father is, and his brother is dying in his arms. He's nearly lost everything, and he counts his blessings that Dis is safely behind at their camp. "You need to save your strength."
Frerin's blue eyes focus on his face, the smile still in place as his fingers stroke along his cheek. "You'll take…take care of Dis…won't you?"
He nods again, pushes some of his auburn hair from his face, dismayed at how much of him is stained with blood. "Of course, of course. I promise."
His brother struggled to draw breath again, the smile slipping from his face as he winces in pain. "Tell me a story," he whispers. "So I can fall asleep. Tell me of the halls of Mandos"
Thorin chokes on a sob. It's been years since his brother has asked him for a story, not since the dragon had forced them out of Erebor, not since he had lost his One in the blaze, all before his twentieth year. Frerin had grown up too fast, they both had, and now he was slipping away from him. He forces himself to will down his emotions, to stay strong for his baby brother just one more time, and tells the tale his brother has requested.
"Far off, on the western shores of Valinor, are the halls of Mandos," he murmurs, not missing the small quirk of a smile that spreads across his brother's face, despite how much pain he is clearly in. He pulls him closer, wraps his arms around him and presses their foreheads together. "The halls look out across the Encircling Sea, and from every one of the great rooms, you can see the beauty of the water, feel the solid earth under your feet, breathe the freshness of the air."
Frerin coughs wetly, and he knows, he knows that he is so, so close to passing on. He swallows the well of emotion back down, determined to see this through.
"But beside all of the beauty, you'll find all of those who have passed on before you, all of your kin who you have lost, and mourned, will be there, waiting for you, with open arms." He presses a kiss to his brother's brow. "Grandda has gone just before you," he murmurs. "He is waiting for you. And mum, she's there for you too. You'll tell her I love her, won't you?"
Frerin chuckles lightly and nods.
"And Arah is there," he adds, taking note at the way his brother's smile widens at the mention of his One. "You two will be able to have the life you always dreamed of. The life Smaug took away from you."
His tears do start then, and Frerin brushes his thumb shakily across his cheek. "I don't want to…to see you there for…a long while, Thorin," he murmurs. "You live for me, okay?" His brother coughs again; the light starts to fade from his eyes.
"I will; I promise," he vows, pulls his brother as close as he can. "I promise, Frerin. I promise. I love you, nadad; I'm so sorry."
"No 'sorry's," Frerin gasps out. "Love…you."
Then Frerin's hand slips down from his cheek, falls limply to the ground, and Thorin just clutches him closer and screams.
He wakes with a start, covered in a cold sweat that seems to seep into his bones. He presses his shaking hands against his face to scrub away the tears he knows are there. He hates when he dreams of Frerin's death. He remembers it all, in heart-stopping detail, and half expects to see his hands stained with his brother's blood when he pulls them away from his face.
His head feels heavy, his body weak, and he would very much like to curl back up into bed and sleep, but he knows there is much to be done. He and Dwalin are behind at the forge, and he needs to meet with Nar about the plans, and he'd promised, promised Kili that he would come and help the boys with their sparring today. No, there was no time to wallow in his self-pity in bed all day, no matter how much he desired it.
He drags himself out of bed with no small amount of effort, wanting to first check on the boys. He is surprised to find Kili perched in their armchair, a too-bright candle in one hand and a book about animals Balin had given him set against his propped up legs. Fili still snores lightly from the bed, and Thorin feels a small smile tugging at his lips. Not a few years ago, their roles would definitely be reversed, but ever since Fili had started working in the forge, he'd begun sleeping later into the day.
He ought to get Kili started soon, but the lad is still so slight that he doubts he'd be able to keep up. Not to mention they'd barely had time to fill their own orders, much less train a little dwarfling. His youngest flashes him a small smile when he notices him checking in on them.
"Have your brother up in fifteen minutes for breakfast," he grinds out, slightly alarmed at how rough his voice sounds, making a mental note to retrieve a mug of water for himself as soon as he'd gotten breakfast started. Kili frowns at him, clearly concerned, but nods anyway.
He squeezes his eyes shut, as if to will away the tension that sits behind them. His head feels full, feels as though his brains are pressing out against his skull, and his body feels like it is made of lead. He must have slept horridly, on top of his bad dreams.
"Of all days to feel a wreck," he grumbles under his breath.
He is nearly to their front room when his vision lurches violently and everything goes black.
Kili is on his feet the second he hears the crashing and clattering from the hall. Even Fili, who can sleep through nearly everything, stirs and wakes, casting a confused glance to his brother before the younger sprints out into the hall.
He trips over his uncle's leg, so lost it was to the darkness, before careening to the cold stone floor, his still-healing arm instinctively coming out to break his fall. He gasps as the stars dance behind his vision, barely suppresses a cry of pain, before he starts pulling at the lump on the floor he presumes is his uncle.
"Uncle?" he calls as his hands ghost over his elder's face. He draws his hand back in shock as he feels how hot Thorin's skin is. "Fee!" he calls, trying very, very hard to quell the panic that he feels (Uncle is sick; Uncle never gets sick!).
Fili rounds the corner from their room not a second later, having wisely taken the precautions of grabbing his sword and lighting a lantern for them. He kneels next to his brother, passes a hand over his uncle's brow, and sighs. "Kili, listen to me," he commands, making sure that his brother is focused on him before he continues. "I need you to fetch Mister Dwalin and Mister Oin; do you understand?" Kili nods. "Get Mister Dwalin first; I'll need him to help me get Uncle back to bed. And wear both your coats, Kee, and your boots. There'll be a chill after the rains from last night."
Kili's gaze is fixed on his uncle's too-pale face, and he doesn't respond. Fili grips him firmly by the shoulders and shakes him once, forcing fearful brown eyes to focus on him.
"Is he…" the younger mutters. "Fee, I'm scared," he admits.
"I know," Fili soothes as he brushes a hand along his cheek. "I know you're scared; I'm scared too, but I need you to be brave and do this for me, alright?" He drops his hand to Kili's shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "It'll be alright, Kee; just fetch them for me. Please?"
Kili finally nods and scrambles to his feet, rushing to the door and lurching it open.
"Coats and boots, Kili!" he calls out, exasperated, sighing with relief when the lad does as he's told and pulls them on before tearing out the door.
It is still early, the first rays of sunlight are just peaking over the wall protecting their settlement inside the mountain, but he spy's smoke coming from the chimney of the forge, and decides to look for Dwalin there first. He crashes through the door, nearly falling to the ground in his haste, and is relieved to see the warrior poised at his anvil, not minding the peculiar look he is being given.
"Uncle is sick and he fell in the hall and he's not waking up and I think he has a fever and Fili needs you to –" he gasps out.
Dwalin immediately lets his hammer fall to the ground before hastening his steps to the boy and gripping his shoulders tightly. "Slow down, laddie. Take a breath and tell me what's going on," he urges.
"Uncle is sick," he murmurs quietly. "Fili needs your help."
Dwalin frowns, but nods, quickly retrieving the water bucket to douse his anvil and the flames in the hearth. "Have you gotten Mister Oin yet?" he asks.
Kili shakes his head. "Fee said to get you first," he whispers.
"Alright then," the warrior replies, before kneeling down to catch Kili's face in his hands. "You've done well, laddie. You have. Run along and fetch Mister Oin. I'll see to your uncle, yeah?"
Kili nods before rushing to the House of Healing, and is dismayed to find that Oin is not yet in. He all but sprints the distance to the healer's home, throws himself at the door to rouse the older dwarf as quickly as possible.
It is Aerona who pulls the door open; a sleeping Gimli balanced carefully on her hip, her stomach swollen with her second child. "Oh, you Durin boys always do come so early!" she teases before she takes in the stricken look of the lad in front of her. "Dear child, what's the matter?"
"I need Mister Oin," he gasps out. "Uncle is sick."
Her face pales just the slightest bit, but she nods. "He is still sleeping," she explains. "Run on home, dear, and I'll send him straight after you, alright?"
Kili nods and thanks her quietly before running across the marketplace once more. Once he arrives home, he is relieved to see that Fili and Dwalin have gotten his uncle back into bed, and that he is awake, though he seems disoriented.
"Uncle," he breathes as he moves to stand next to his brother at the bedside. "Mister Oin is coming right behind me; he'll be here soon."
Thorin does not respond to him, but Fili wraps his arm around his shoulders and tucks him close to his side. "Thank you, Kee," he murmurs before kissing the top of the lad's head. Kili melts into the embrace, wraps his arms around his brother's waist and buries his face into his shoulder, trembling ever so slightly. "It'll be alright," Fili soothes again. "Mister Oin will have Uncle all patched up in no time at all; you'll see."
"I told you you'd been working yourself too hard," Dwalin grumbles as he presses a mug of water against Thorin's lips, willing him to drink. They fall into a heavy silence, one that is eventually broken by the sound of Oin coming in the front door.
"Hello, hello!" he calls into the house. "I hear a certain kingly cousin of mine is ill?" He smiles as he rounds the corner into the room. "Let's see about fixing you up then, shall we."
Fili, Kili, and Dwalin all watch in silence as Oin examines his latest patient. It is just after he's finished looking in their Uncle's mouth that he speaks up.
"Dwalin, do me a favor and take the lads out of here," he murmurs, his tone still cheery, though there is something decidedly off in it.
Fili shakes his head at the exact moment that Kili says, "No."
"We're not leaving him," Fili elaborates.
"He wouldn't leave us," Kili adds.
Oin glances over to them and gives them a small, reassuring smile. "I think, laddies, that your uncle may be contagious; I simply don't want you to get sick as well."
Fili sighs heavily and nods, making to leave and grasping at Kili's arm to pull him along.
Kili doesn't budge. "No," he repeats, and Fili rolls his eyes.
"Stop being ridiculous," he hisses. "What good does it do you to get sick too? Come on, it's not like we're going to be far away."
Kili still doesn't move, so Dwalin grabs his shoulder and pulls him from the room, nearly tossing him into the hallway with his brother, slamming the door behind him as he does. The younger immediately presses his ear to the door, straining to make out any sound through the thick wood.
"Would you quit?" Fili chides. "You're acting insane; Mister Oin will take good care of Uncle. There's nothing to worry about."
Kili shakes his head. "No, Fee. Something is wrong; I can feel it."
Fili sighs and throws his hands up into the air before huffing off to the kitchen to find something to eat. "Have it your own way, then," he mutters as he leaves. "Just come and get breakfast in a few minutes, yeah? You're all skin and bones still."
Kili presses closer to the door, pleased that he is actually able to make out their words, muffled as they are.
"I'll need you to get those boys out of this house, and keep them out," Oin is explaining, and Kili's stomach drops into his boots.
He can hear the frown in Dwalin's voice when he answers. "Why? Can't be more than a simple cold, not at this time of the year."
Oin sighs. "When was the last time he traveled?"
"He got back from Fairfield not two days ago," Dwalin answered, referring to his uncle's short trip to the nearby town of men and back a few days prior. "Does it matter?"
"Did anyone travel with him?" Oin continues, ignoring Dwalin's question.
"Balin did," he responds after a beat of silence. "Oin, what aren't you telling me? Are you expecting my brother to fall ill as well?"
"I fear…" the healer murmurs. "I fear he may have contracted the Walking Death. Balin may have as well."
Kili feels all of the air rush from his lungs. He's heard the stories of what the Walking Death does to men; it makes them so ill that they waste away into nothing before they can recover. Spread through the breath of anyone who is actively sick from it, it ran rampant in a few towns for a few years back. He'd never heard stories of what it did to dwarrows, had never even heard of a dwarf falling ill from it.
"What do we do, then?" Dwalin continues softly in a tone Kili has never heard him use before.
He hears Oin's heavy sigh. "We need to get the lads out, keep them away from this place while Thorin is ill. The three of you could have contracted the sickness already…we'll need to keep an eye on you all, but they cannot stay here."
"No!" Kili shouts and he wrenches the door back open, startling both dwarrows from their conversation. He makes to run to Thorin's bedside, but Dwalin is there to intercept him, hoisting him up into his arms despite Kili's struggles.
"Do all you can for him," Dwalin tosses over his shoulder. "And for my brother. I will keep an eye on the lads." Kili struggles against him, shouting for his uncle. His cries bring Fili round as well, who looks completely flabbergasted by the state his brother is in.
"What's –"
"You lads and I are going to stay down at the Inn for a few days to give your uncle some rest," Dwalin explains.
"Why do we need to –"
"I'll explain later, boys," he says as he gives him a genuinely apologetic smile. "Now get on your coats and your boots. We'll fetch some clothes for you from the market later."
Fili warily looked at his brother, confusion obvious on his face, but he eventually nodded and left the room to prepare to leave. Dwalin followed after him, Kili still struggling against him, and Oin hefted the door shut behind him.
As Fili got himself dressed to leave, Dwalin adjusted his hold on Kili, balancing him on his hip despite the fact that he was just a bit too tall to be carried in such a way, and tucked the lad's head under his chin as he continued to cry.
"Won't you please tell me what's going on?" Fili asks quietly. "Why's he so upset?"
Dwalin sighs, but fixes the lad with a stern gaze. "Oin thinks he may have contracted the Walking Death." Fili pales visibly at this piece of news, and Kili wails harder against Dwalin's chest. "He isn't sure, lad; we must not jump to conclusions. He just wants to quarantine him for a few days, keep you lads safe. Just in case."
Fili nods, numbly.
"Now lad, can you calm your brother down?" Dwalin asks. "It won't do to have him sobbing in the streets."
He nods again, opens his arms to pull his brother into them. "Hush, Kili. Hush," he soothes, carding his fingers through his hair. "It's alright, nadadith; we don't even know if it's serious."
"But he was fine last night, Fee," Kili moaned. "He was fine and now he's sick and he's never sick, Fee!"
Fili swallows the doubt he feels, presses a kiss against his brother's temple if only to give him time to regain his composure. "It'll all be fine, Kee," He huffs out a humorless laugh. "The fates have been too cruel to us already, the Maker won't let them take Uncle, too."
Kili nods against him, takes several deep, gasping breaths to calm himself, and eventually straightens himself up and wipes his eyes, tries to regain some dignity, but winds up just latching to Fili's side as they head out the door. Dwalin leads them through the awakening marketplace, takes them straight to Bombur's tavern and inn.
"Little early for an ale, Dwalin," Bofur teases from where he is pulling down chairs as they walk in, but his smile drops when he takes in the lads. "Some breakfast instead, perhaps?"
"That might be a good idea," he agrees. "And we'll need two rooms for a few days. One for me and one for the lads."
Bofur raises an eyebrow, casts a glance down at the boys. "Is everything alright, Dwalin?"
"Oh, Oin thinks Thorin and Balin may have picked up something when they went to town," he explains lightly, trying not to draw too much concern to the situation. "Wants to keep me and the lads away just in case."
"Well that's not so bad!" he exclaims, making sure to catch Kili's eye as he flashes them a warm smile. He hands Dwalin two keys. "Come back down in ten; Bombur will have some breakfast for you by then."
Dwalin ushers the lads upstairs, sees them to their room before handing Fili the key.
"Whatever you do lads," he urges, gripping each of them on the shoulder, "do not go home until Oin sends for you. Do you understand me?"
Fili nods his acquiescence, but Kili stands still as a stone. Dwalin reaches down and grips his face in his hands gently.
"Promise me, lad," he whispers. "Not until you're sent for." Kili finally nods, and Dwalin knocks their heads together tenderly. "That's a good lad."
For three days, there is no news, save for that Balin had fallen ill the same day as Thorin. Fili spent most of him time in the forge with Dwalin, working constantly to keep his mind off the situation at hand. He would work until he could barely stand (something he noticed Dwalin was doing as well), then head back to the tavern to retrieve Kili and fall into bed.
Kili grew more despondent with each passing day. He spent the entirety of the first day helping Bofur and Bifur make toys, carving the delicate shapes out of pieces of wood with practiced skill. But, by the end of the day, he'd nicked every last one of his fingers, and Bofur had tutted over him as he bandaged them with a sympathetic smile on his face.
The rest of the time he spends helping Bombur in the tavern, cleaning up the messes and running food and drink to the dwarrows that have stopped by for some comfort. They had kept the news of Thorin's illness under tight wraps, so he tried his best to put on a good face for everyone, tried to quell all of the fears and doubts that were building up inside of him.
On the second night, when Nori comes in for a drink, he sees straight through the lad's façade and asks him why he looks so down, and Kili positively breaks down in tears. Bofur grabs him and ushers him upstairs quick enough, muttering something about Kili missing his mum and da and that the lad is just fine. He sits with him and tells him all of the fables he can remember for his childhood while the lad cries himself out, tucks him into bed once he falls into exhaustion.
The next morning, both lads are eerily quiet when they come round for breakfast. Kili keeps himself pressed close to his brother's side, and Fili keeps one arm slung around his shoulders. The lads are exhausted, he can tell, and Dwalin is too, for that matter. He wonders what it is that Thorin and Balin have fallen ill with, but he doesn't dare ask, not after Dwalin had asked him to keep the nature of their stay secret.
For a moment, he finds himself staring at the two brothers, marveling at their closeness. He thinks that he and Bombur are close indeed, but Fili and Kili are a million times closer. It must be the hardships that they had grown up with, from loosing their parents, from being raised by their uncle, who'd just about lost everything in the world, save for those boys. He finds himself envying their closeness, but not their circumstances as he spoons some more of his brother's baked apple tart onto their plates.
Fili leaves with Dwalin to return from the forge, and he takes Kili with him as he runs errands all around town for the day. He does his best to keep the lad distracted, but he doesn't miss the way Kili's eyes constantly look toward his home, doesn't miss the tenseness in the lad's jaw, doesn't miss the way he worries the bandages on his fingers.
Finally, just as the sun sinks below the wall, and the settlement becomes bathed in twilight, he pulls Kili inside the toyshop he shares with Bifur and urges him to sit on the floor with him.
"I'm worried about you, laddie," he states bluntly. Kili responds only by casting his eyes down to the stone floor. "Now, I don't know what's going on with your uncle, but whatever it is will pass in time. You're worried that he'll die, aren't you?" he asks.
Kili's head snaps up in surprise at the blunt question. Eventually, he nods.
Bofur gives him a warm smile. "Oh laddie," he murmurs as he pats the boy's knee softly. "We dwarrows are strong, and your uncle? He's one of the strongest of all of us. Goblins haven't been able to kill him. Orcs neither. Nor men, nor elves, not even a dragon could kill your uncle! I think it would take much more than a silly illness to bring him down."
The corner of Kili's lips pulls up in a slight smile, one that widens bit by bit as he shows the boy some of the newer toys Bifur has designed, ones with cranks and moving parts and are beautifully, meticulously decorated.
By the time they make their way back to the inn, night has completely fallen. Bofur keeps a hand on the lad's shoulder as he guides them back, and he almost – almost – misses Kili's tiny whispered 'thank you,' before they enter the bustling tavern.
"There you are!" Fili calls as soon as they enter. He looks mildly stricken, and Bofur flashes him an apologetic smile.
"Sorry about that, laddie," he murmurs. "Drug him all around town with me today and didn't even get him home in time for supper."
"No; it's fine," Fili stammers out, but he still pulls his little brother into a hug the moment he's close enough to. "Just needed to make sure he was okay, you know?"
Bofur gives him a knowing smile. "Believe me; I do."
Hours later, when they've retired to their rented room, Fili forces himself to focus on how Kili's breath is steady and even. His mind wants to wander, just as it has since their uncle fell ill. If Thorin didn't recover…well, he had no idea what would happen to them. He'd heard stories, plenty of stories about little orphaned dwarrows who were abandoned to the wilderness. He tried to remind himself that they were princes, and that wouldn't happen to them, but he was still faced with the daunting prospect of having to take care of the both of them, all on his own.
Well, he supposed, that wasn't entirely true. He was sure that Mister Dwalin and Mister Balin would do everything they could for them, Mister Bofur too.
A selfish though crept through his mind, one that he was not able to will away.
So much of his life had been about raising Kili, taking care of Kili, protecting Kili, and Kili, Kili, Kili. If their uncle did not recover, it would be more of the same, more of the burden of being a parentless dwarfling tasked to raise his little brother.
'No, no,' he thinks fervently. He's not a burden; he's his baby brother, the one person in the entire world who completely loves and adores him, without any precedence or agenda. Not a burden, just a boy.
'You're just a boy, too,' his mind unhelpfully supplies; 'a boy who will never have a right childhood because of his burden.'
He squeezes his eyes shut, pulls his brother just a bit tighter against his chest as he tries to quell down his doubts. Even if Kili were truly a burden, he is one that Fili is happy to bear because he is his brother; his sweet, baby brother who has never uttered an ill word against him, who has never looked upon him with anything other than love and adoration, who hadn't wanted to be parentless any more that he had. It wasn't Kili's fault, could never be his fault, and it was unfair of him to hold the lad's youth against him.
He sighs heavily and presses a kiss to his brother's forehead, murmuring a soft apology for his thoughts.
He's nearly drifted off himself when he hears the door creak open. In an instant, he has his sword in his hand, has positioned himself between Kili and the door, ready to face down the intruder should they have ill intentions. In the dim light from the lantern the intruder is holding, he makes out the large shape of a tall dwarf, one with an all-too familiar face that has his sword numbly falling from his fingers and clattering to the floor.
"Uncle?" he breathes out.
Kili scrambles out from behind him, and he can feel the smile that pulls across his brother's face. "Uncle!" Kili shouts excitedly as he tears away from the bed and throws his full weight into the much taller dwarf.
Fili sits numb with shock for a beat. For as sick as their uncle had been just a few days ago, there he is, standing and smiling and pulling a now sobbing Kili up into his arms. Thorin's eyes fix on him, and a small, comforting smile is all that it takes for Fili to run to him as well, tears of relief streaming down his face.
"Shhh, lads," Thorin is soothing as he moves them back into the room, as he pulls the door shut behind him. "It's alright; I'm alright. I am well; Mister Balin is, too." He sets the lantern down on the small table beside the bed before he toes off his own boots and sinks onto the mattress with them. "Everything is alright, my boys."
"Was so worried," Kili sobs out, as he curls up against his uncle's side. Fili finds himself nodding in agreement, and is mildly surprised when his brother reaches over to wipe some of the tears he didn't realize he was shedding from his cheeks. Thorin's arms are tight around them and every single doubt he'd had is fading away, causing relief to flood him like a drug. He can feel his limbs shaking, so he presses close to his uncle's side, wraps his arms around him and his brother as tight as he dares and let's the tears of relief and joy fall.
"My sweet little boys," Thorin rumbles, his own voice thick with something Fili doesn't care to identify. "I meant it when I said I would never willingly leave you."
And there is the assurance that Fili has always needed. Because he may have lost his parents, he may have to grow up too fast, he may have to give up his childhood in favor of his brother, but he doesn't have to do it alone.
As long as their uncle is there, he will never be alone.
Thanks for reeeaaading! Let me know what you think! (PS I love you)