AN – I am so angry with this chapter. I had such a VISION for it, and then I was completely rubbish at putting it into words. Ugh. I hope you all enjoy it! I don't personally think it's up to my usual standard, but hopefully I can get better from here! Thanks again for being such lovely people. I love reading your comments about this story and you are all SO SWEET.

I still own nothing. Enjoy!

Warnings: Kili sulks a lot. References to illness and hunger/food shortage and mid violence/gore toward the end.

Greater than Gold
Chapter 11: Thirty-Four and Twenty-Eight – Part 3
By Displaced Hobbit

Bofur takes one look at the lad as he stares forlornly out the window and sighs. It has been a week since Thorin and the others had taken their leave. He's tried to keep Kili as busy as possible, tried to occupy him with asking him to help out at the shop, or to help Bombur in the tavern, and for the most part, he thinks he's done all right.

It's the quiet times, though, the down time in the morning and evening and at night, that he worries most for the lad. It is apparent that he isn't sleeping well, and he's often the first one in their home awake. Most mornings, Bofur finds him exactly as he is now - perched in the windowsill, forehead resting against the glass and eyes fixed on some point on the horizon. He's eerily quiet and slightly withdrawn, though he does tend to perk up a bit when he knows others are around. Most days, he doesn't eat much, and Bofur would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't concerned.

Kili wears his heart on his sleeve, and it's easy to see how distraught he is becoming from just a single glance.

Yet, he doesn't know what to do for the lad, aside from keeping him as busy as possible. It still doesn't protect him from the lonely nights, still doesn't patch the gaping hole in his heart, or quell the loneliness that he feels. And he's not sure anything ever will, save for the return of his beloved brother and uncle. With an almost inaudible sigh, he presses into the kitchen to greet the lad.

"What, you're up already and haven't even made me breakfast?" he teases, fixing a warm smile on his face.

Kili jumps just a little, but plays it off by sliding down from the windowsill and returning his smile with a small, timid one of his own. The dark circles under his eyes confirm that he hasn't slept well again. "Mister Bombur made scones," he murmurs sleepily.

"Well, I'll be," he declares, patting Kili's shoulder as he crosses the kitchen to the aforementioned scones. "And have you eaten yet, you little imp?"

Kili bites his lip timidly and shakes his head. "M'not hungry," he says quietly, as his gaze drifts to the floor.

He grabs two scones anyway before sitting down on the bench of their table. He pats the spot next to him, urging the lad to come and sit. Kili slowly shuffles over, and as soon as he sits, Bofur has his arm around his shoulder and pulls him directly to his side. "You're not hungry because you miss them, yeah?" he asks.

Kili nods miserably from his side, so he reaches up and ruffles a hand through his hair to try and soothe him. With his other hand, he passes the lad one of the scones, smiling lightly when he takes it and starts to pick at it.

"You've got to take care of yourself, laddie; Aule knows your uncle will have my head if he comes home to find you naught but skin and bones," he murmurs. "Got to make sure you're eating, even if you don't feel hungry, okay? And sleeping better too."

Kili huffs out a sigh. "I can't sleep alone," he utters glumly, but obediently breaks off a piece of his breakfast and pops it into his mouth.

"And why's that?" he asks, taking a cue from the youngling and digging into his own breakfast, realizing just a second too late that he knows exactly why.

"Bad dreams," Kili murmurs quietly. "Fee and Uncle keep them away."

"They're just dreams, little imp; they can't hurt you," he murmurs softly, rubbing a hand across the boy's shoulders. "And if something was to come after you in the night, it'd have to get through me, and Bombur, AND Bifur. Not likely to happen, laddie. You're quite safe with us."

"I know," he whispers, after taking another small bite of his meal. "I just...I'll try to; I promise."

Bofur pulls him into a one armed hug, let's his cheek rest against the top of the lad's head. "It'll get better with time; you'll see," he promises, before they resume eating their breakfasts in relative silence.

He hopes beyond hope that he's right.

"Oh, no you don't, laddie!" Gloin calls as soon as he steps into the training area, practically vibrating with excitement at the thought of getting to train again. "You'd best be putting that bow away now. You know better."

Kili glances down at the bow in his hand just as Gimli snickers lightly at him. "It's Tuesday," he says, albeit a little dumbly.

"So?" Gloin asks as he rifles through the weapons rack.

"So," he huffs out, almost angrily, "Mister Dwalin and I practice with my bow on Tuesdays. Thursday is swords and Saturday is sparring. Tuesday is my bow."

Gloin hands a practice sword to Gimli, who gleefully takes off in the direction of the wooden practice dummies with a fledgling, yet fearsome battle cry. "Well, Mister Dwalin is away for a while, and I'll not be training you with the bow."

"But," he starts, clearly dismayed by this bit of information. He's knows his weapon of choice is not particularly proper, but no one has outright denied his wishes to train with it. Not even his uncle, and he is their king.

"No buts!" Gloin interjects. "You can practice your little hobby on your own time, yea?"

"It's not…"

"When you're training with me, we'll be training you to be a real warrior," he continues, with just a small bit of disdain in his tone, selecting a battle axe from the rack before pulling Kili's bow from his numbed fingertips and shoving the axe into his hands. "Tuesdays are for your axe, now."

"That's not fair!" Kili declares, half-heartedly reaching for his bow. He wants to fight, wants to kick and scream and fight to get to practice his bow, but Dwalin had asked him to make him proud. His weapons master would surely be less than proud to hear that he'd started a fight with his replacement. With a heavy sigh, he swallows his frustration and nods to Gloin as he moves to do as he's been told.

Though when he heads for the practice dummies, it is with considerably less enthusiasm than he'd had before.

"Looks like you've got an admirer, little brother," Bofur teases one night, with a meaningful glance to one of the lasses seated at the bar. She's come in every night for nearly two weeks, orders only a bowl of whatever stew Bombur has concocted for the evening. Kili's noticed her, of course; he's been the one to bring out her meal most nights. She always greets him with a small smile, but never says much, but even he has noticed how her eyes track Bombur's movements and little else.

Bombur, for the most part, has remained completely ignorant. "Oh?" he asks, peering around to see. The lass notices his gaze shifting to her, and she smiles sweetly before ducking her head. She's a pretty thing, with russet brown hair and pale green eyes, short beard neatly braided away from her face, and most of her long hair held in a single, thick braid down her back. By the looks of her, she's a commoner, not from any lord nor carrying any land, but the way Bombur's face lights up when he sees her indicates that he cares not for her status.

"That's Eila, isn't it?" Bofur continues, gently nudging his brother in her direction. "Y'know, why don't you take the night off and spend some time with the lass, yea? We're not busy anyhow."

It takes a few more good minutes of poking and prodding, but Bombur eventually abandons his post in the kitchen and trots off to sit with her on the other side of the bar. Bofur can't help the knowing grin that stretches across his face, mutters something about "proper courting" under his breath. Kili wrinkles his nose in disgust, clearly too young to still be interested in courting of any kind.

"Oh, don't you make that face, boy," he jests, nudging Kili's shoulder teasingly. "One day you'll find yourself a nice little lass to court - or maybe a lad, who knows - and you'll be all goo-goo eyed and smitten as well."

Kili just frowns. "Don't think so," he mutters. "All the lasses think I'm ugly anyhow. They all like Fee."

Bofur throws a friendly arm around his shoulder in a lopsided hug before moving to fetch a beer for one of the patrons. "Oh, come now. I'll bet once you're grown the lasses will be all over you, laddie."

Kili just frowns and shakes his head again. "Tha's gross," he mumbles, but his gaze can't help but wander to where Bombur is apparently flirting with Eila. Bofur tosses a dishrag at him, points to a pile of mugs that had just been freshly washed with a teasing grin, and he obediently sets about drying them and stacking them back.

His mind starts to drift as he completes his chore. He can't help but wonder if his mother and father were ever as smitten with one another, as this young couple appeared to be now. He tries to imagine their faces, but he just can't, He's only ever seen them in sketches and drawings, has never seen his father's eyes crinkle the way Bombur's do now, has never seen a flush cover his mother's cheeks the way Eila's does. He wonders if Fili can imagine, wonders if he remembers seeing their love for himself, wonders if Thorin urged his sister on in her courting, or if he played the part of the stern elder brother that Kili knows he could play oh-so well. He wonders, wonders, wonders.

"Brooding again, are you?" Bombur asks a moment later, gently pulling the mug and drying towel from his still hands. "Growing up to be just like your uncle; I can tell already," he teases lightly. There's a well-meaning smile on his face, but the older dwarf's eyes are filled with concern. "Maybe you should go up for bed? It is a slow night, as I said."

"No," he starts to protest. "No, I'm fine. I'm sorry." He reaches back for the mug and cloth, but Bofur pulls it just out of his reach and gives him a small shake of his head. It isn't until the toymaker reaches a hand up to brush along his cheek that he realizes he's crying. He is mildly horrified as he brings his sleeves up to scrub along his face. "M'fine; I want to help."

Bofur looks like he wants to protest again, like he wants to send the lad off to bed for certain, but he hands the cloth and mug back anyway, though the older dwarf's ever-present smile is strangely absent. Kili gives him a small, grateful smile and ducks his head away in embarrassment, and as Bofur pats him lightly on the back on his way to the kitchen, he makes a mental note to keep his feelings in better check.

"Can you teach me how to do that?"

Kili starts at the quiet question. He'd been fully engrossed in the carving he'd been working on - a dragon wing to go with a crank toy that Bifur was making - That he hadn't even noticed the younger dwarfling's approach. Gimli is watching his hands with rapt attention, and for a moment, he's almost flattered. But then he remembers Gimli's teasing while they were sparring the day before, when the younger had nearly managed to take him down with a well-aimed hit as Kili's attention had slipped, and he suddenly doesn't feel as such.

"I dunno," he says nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders. "Mister Bofur taught me how to a long time ago; I don't know if I could teach it."

Gimli seems undeterred by his polite dismissal, as he plops himself down to sit beside him, grabbing a spare piece of wood as he does. "Please?" he asks quietly. "Mum's driving me nuts and the baby's been crying for days. I think Da's gonna smack me upside my head if I pester him any longer."

"Fine," he acquiesces. He's not overly fond of Gimli, especially not now that he is training with him and Gloin. The dwarfling is very competitive and boisterous, and Kili has noticed that their personalities don't mesh well at all, despite the fact that Gimli is the only dwarfling in town close to his age, aside from his brother. Besides that, he's heard the things the lad's family have said about him, has heard the things Gimli has said about him, and he's never been overly concerned with striking up a friendship with him.

He sets his own carving aside and reaches for some of his smaller carving knives. Gimli decides that he wants to carve an axe, so Kili sketches the rough shape of it out, before showing the younger lad what to do. It's surprisingly relaxing for him, and honestly the most interaction he's had with another dwarf in weeks, as reclusive as he's grown.

He hadn't meant to become so anti-social, but Dori had insisted that the start of the winter chill was far too much for Ori to deal with outside, and Bofur and Bifur had gotten swamped with orders for toys, and Bombur was far too preoccupied with courting Eila to pay him much attention. Aside from his three weekly training sessions with Gloin, he'd not had much reason to converse with anyone for quite a while.

He was broody and sulking and he knew it, but he couldn't be bothered enough to care. He wanted Fili. He wanted his uncle, and Mister Dwalin. Hell, he even wanted Balin, and his dry, boring history lessons back. They'd been gone for nearly three months, and the rapidly approaching winter only served to remind him that there would be many more long, cold weeks without them ahead.

Gimli is prattling on about something as he attempts to make his carving. He's already strayed from the lines and taken a huge notch out of what should have eventually become the axe head. Kili's only catching every few words or so, as he's returned his focus to his own carving, using just the tip of his knife to carve the texture of scales into the otherwise smooth wood.

"But I never hear about your mum. Must've been nice, to have a princess for a mum, yeah?" Gimli asks, still intently focusing on his own work. "What was she like? I know she passed before I was born but -"

"I don't know," Kili answers simply enough, swallowing the lump that's found it's way into his throat. "She passed when I was a babe. I don't remember her."

Gimli is staring at him with no small amount of shock, the small braids in his fledgling beard still swinging from where he'd turned his head so sharply at his comment. "What?!" he asks, eyes wide. "No lullabies? No bedtime stories?"

"No, no!" Kili interjects. "We had all that. We just...didn't have our mum anymore. We have our Uncle."

Gimli deflates a little bit at that. "Oh. Well, that sounds awful," he murmurs sullenly, turning back to his carving, though with considerably less interest than before. "I don't know what I would do without my mum."

Kili shrugs and returns to his own carving as well. "I mean, I didn't know her at all so...I don't know what to miss, I guess," he murmurs. He can feel the annoying prickle of tears behind his eyes. His solitude has left him too much time for thinking, and his thoughts have continually drifted toward his family. He knows Gimli doesn't mean anything by his question, but he's annoyed about it all the same. They aren't even really friends; he doesn't understand why they're even spending time together, much less even talking about this…

Gimli lays a gentle hand on his shoulder and gives it a light squeeze. The young dwarfling's eyes are still almost comically wide, but his face is full of concern and compassion. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, eyes drifting down to the carving in Kili's hands. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to make you sad."

Kili can't find the words to reply, so he just nods and lets the both of them get back to their carvings.

The winter has been hard.

It's been colder, colder than he's ever felt, even when they lived in their rickety old house in that town of men, the one that let every chilled breeze in and made you feel as though you were still outside. There's been almost no snow, but everything has been frozen - the ponds, the food stores...even the wood to burn in the fireplace is little more than a block of ice. They'd been forced to ration their food supply, to eat as little as possible to make the stores last through the brutal cold. Everyone was cold, and hungry, and tired.

Then the sickness had come.

Bofur had ushered him out of the Inn as soon as the first signs of illness had appeared, had sent him away to stay with Ori and his brothers, safely tucked into the side of the mountain. Dori mothered over the three of them constantly, always checking for fevers and force-feeding them broth that became more and more watered down each day. It had been a good choice, though, as soon after Bofur had sent him away, the sickness had spread so much that the Inn had become an extension of the House of Healing, and most of the beds were filled with those who were suffering.

He shivers and pulls the furs tighter around his shoulders. Dori had insisted that the boys sleep in the front room, so he and Ori were huddled up on the settee, and Nori had set up camp in a neighboring armchair; both pieces of furniture were pulled up close to the fire. Nori had protested vehemently at first, but Dori had put his foot down, had told him that he could abide by his rules or spend the winter out on the streets. Nori had acquiesced, but he did still grumble about it from time to time.

He wondered how everyone else was doing, wondered who was sick. They hadn't heard anything from anyone since Bofur had sent him away nearly two weeks ago, and Dori clearly had no inclination to step outside until someone came to tell them the worst had passed. He stares into the fire and wonders if it's this cold in Bree, if Fili and Uncle are huddled against each other like he and Ori are now.

It's his birthday today, and he wonders if they remember.

No one here has said anything, even now that the sun has dipped low beneath the horizon. He doesn't have the heart to remind him that he's been forgotten, not when so many people are so sick and so hungry, but it does cause an ache in his chest that he'd rather not have. He's never been one to make a big deal of his name day, but it is nice to be remembered, and the fact that no one has said anything at all to him about it just makes him feel wholly left behind, even more so than he'd felt before.

He just hopes that Fili and his Uncle haven't forgotten him as well. He doesn't think he could bear that.

He sighs. Ori has already fallen asleep next to him; his head had dropped onto his shoulder not long after they'd settled back in after supper. Nori was diligently carving a pipe, but was never really one for conversation anyhow, particularly not with the pair of them. Dori was fussing over some of the firewood, trying to make sure that it was thawed enough to burn. He's cold and he's lonely and he's bored, but he settles on starring broodily into the fire once more.

"I suppose it's not the best night for some music, hm?" Dori murmurs some time later as he settles into an armchair a bit farther back from the fire.

"Ori's sleeping," he and Nori reply at the same time.

Dori sighs heavily. "True," he murmurs. "Though I am getting a bit tired of all of this; being cooped up inside is no good for anyone."

"I keep asking to go out," Nori huffs, sounding only slightly annoyed. "Just for a bit of a walk, but you keep on-"

They are all started into silence by a loud knock at the door. Kili jumps so fiercely that he shakes Ori awake, who stares up at all of them with wide, frightened eyes.

"Who is it?" Dori shouts as he nears the door. "I'll not be having any sickness in here!"

Curious, Kili has pulled himself up the sit backwards on the settee, giving himself a better view of the door. For a split second he allows himself to hope that his Uncle and brother have returned early, that they're here to retrieve him, that he can finally go home.

"I'm not sick, you old prude," a gruff voice yells back. Kili deflates as he recognizes it as Bifur's. "I've got some more wood for you; Bofur thought you might be low."

He sinks back down on the settee, no longer interested in their unannounced visitor. He likes Bifur, really he does, but the older dwarf isn't much of a conversationalist with youngling like himself, despite his occupation as toymaker. He really prefers the company of his cousins, and had let himself hope that his uncle would be at the door instead.

Ori seems to lose interest as well, for he flops back down beside him not a moment later. "Thought it'd be something more exciting than firewood," he muses.

Kili makes a small noise in agreement as he tucks the furs back around his body. They lapse into a comfortable silence, and he feels himself starting to drift off when Ori suddenly jerks up.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" he exclaims as he scrambles to his feet and rushes into the back hall where his bedroom is. There is the distinctive sound of things being rustled about, but Ori emerges a few moments later, carrying a knitted something or other in his hands. It's a hobby the young dwarfling has only recently started, but he's been keen on making sweaters and scarves and gloves out of everything that he can. He thrusts the thing into Kili's hands with a big smile. "Happy birthday!" he offers by way of explanation. Nori raises an interested eyebrow at him, and Dori is still fussing with the wood, completely oblivious.

Kili takes the knitting with careful hands and unfolds it, revealing an oversized sweater made out of scratchy looking yarn. A small, timid smile graces his lips, grateful that his friend had taken the time to remember his birthday.

"I know it's not the best yarn," Ori explains as he settles himself back on the settee. "But I know blue is your favorite and it's all I could find."

"No, it's great," Kili murmurs, shifting himself free of the furs to pull the sweater over his head. It's far too big, but it's warm, and the yarn isn't as scratchy as he thought it would be at first glance. "Thank you, Ori; it's brilliant."

Ori gives him a wide, sleepy smile. "Sorry I almost forgot," he slurs, sinking back down into the cushions and looking all the world like he could fall asleep at a moments notice.

Kili tucks himself back in, feeling much warmer and lighter now with the receipt of Ori's gift. When he drifts off a few moments later, he wears the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Being outside is a blessing. The wind is still bitingly cold, but it carries the fresh scent of a promised spring with it. He's gone out to the woods with Bofur to help chop and retrieve more firewood, now that the frost and sickness have started to pass and journeys outside of the town's walls are deemed safe again. It feels incredible to have fresh air in his lungs, to be able to explore the woods once more, even if the cold is bothersome and he feels weak from hunger, still.

Bofur watches him with amused eyes and a fond smile. "It's good to see you act yourself again, lad," he murmurs as they begin to load the sled with logs fit for burning. "Not good to keep little dwarflings cooped up inside for so long."

Kili flashes him a sheepish smile. It does feel nice. His heart feels lighter than it has in months. The coming of the spring means the return of his family, and he's already beyond ecstatic to throw himself into his brother's arms. He catches himself daydreaming often enough of how Fili must have changed through the winter, of how much taller he's probably grown, or how much fuller his beard will be. He wonders if Thorin's hair will be streaked with even more grey than before, or if his eyes will crinkle at the corners in a smile that rarely graces his lips.

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" Bofur interjects as they stop to take a break. "Your birthday present," he murmurs with a conspiratorial wink as he pulls a small thing wrapped in parchment from his pocket. "Tried to get Dori to let you out but he would hear none of it. Awful paranoid that one is, isn't he?"

Kili laughs lightly at the truth in his words, eager hands coming forward to grasp the gift. He pulls the parchment free with a small smile, revealing several small but gleaming arrowheads. He pulls one out, carefully examining it with reverent fingers.

"They're stone, but they're sharp," he explains. "Polished up nice too. I thought you might like something a little more lethal for when Dwalin takes you hunting." He gives Kili a wide, toothy smile. "I know some folks give you a hard time for your skill, but I myself enjoy a nice bit of meat now and then, you know?"

He knows that a stupid smile is tugging at his lips, but he doesn't really care. Someone else had remembered his birthday after all, and more than that, someone had cared enough about him, enough about his craft to get him a gift that would help him become a better hunter. "I can make some arrows from them before they're even back!" He exclaims happily. "Thank you, Mister Bofur." He launches himself at the older dwarf in a warm hug, dopey grin still splitting his face wide.

"Just make sure you get me a nice deer one day, or a boar, even!" he jests, clapping his hand to Kili's shoulder jovially.

Kili tucks the arrowheads into his pocket with great care before they set back to work. Chopping the logs is tedious work, but it relaxes him all the same. It makes him feel strong, and capable and he doesn't mind the manual labor, especially since they will be delivering the logs to families who really need them. Most of the sickness has passed, but between the cold and the illness and the lack of food, many dwarrow have died this winter. There is a permeating sadness in the town, and he is eager to help in any way that he can, even if it is just by bringing in some fresh firewood.

Bofur stops suddenly, nearly in mid swing of his axe. He takes a deep breath of the air, then another. "Do you smell that?" he asks, brows knit together in confusion.

Kili obediently takes a sniff. At first, he smells nothing but to cold air of the forest, but then he catches it.

Smoke.

They're too far from town to be able to smell any of the fires warming people's homes. It is a peculiar thing to be so far out in the woods and be able to smell fire at all, unless there are nearby wanderers or other unsavory visitors. Bofur is clearly on high alert, and that makes Kili feel uneasy as well.

"You can climb, can't you?" The former miner asks, gesturing to a nearby tree. "Get on up there and see if you can see anything," he elaborates when Kili nods his consent.

He climbs as quickly as he can, mindful of how brittle the branches have become with the cold, and careful to make sure he doesn't select branches that are too small to hold his weight. Most of the trees have dropped their leaves, and it makes it easy for him to see far off into the woods.

He can see far enough to Fairfield, where great plumes of smoke are billowing up.

"Fairfield is burning!" he shouts, alarm clear in his voice. "It's...there's smoke everywhere!"

"Alright, get down from there, lad!" he calls, a small spark of panic clinging to his voice. "Come on, we've got to get back!"

Kili has nearly reached the ground when the alarm bells from their settlement began to ring in the distance. Fear claws up his spine as they make great haste to return home, leaving the sled full of wood behind as they race the pony they'd brought with them as fast as they could.

When they get back, the whole settlement is in an uproar.

Bifur spies them as they hustle through the marketplace and rushes over to join them. "Orcs," he spits distastefully. "They've overrun Fairfield. A messenger came while you were out. The whole town burns."

"We saw," Kili confirms, his voice trembling just slightly. "We could smell the smoke so I climbed up and we could see."

"Nar thinks they'll come for us next. Their numbers are enormous," Bifur continues. "He wants us to prepare to fight," he adds, his voice a low whisper. "Every able bodied dwarf."

Kili sinks against Bofur's side. "Fight?" he murmurs, his voice obviously trembling with fear. Bofur slides an arm around him and tucks him close against his side.

"Where are the dwarflings going?" he asks his cousin.

"The younglings are being sent to the Great Halls," he replies. Bofur starts to usher Kili in that direction, but Bifur stops him cold when he next speaks. "Gloin wants all of the ones who are well into their weapons training to fight," he murmurs, with a meaningful glance to Kili's face.

Kili can feel the blood drain from his face as the meaning of Bifur's words sinks in. "I can't...I don't…" he mumbles, trying desperately to calm himself down.

"Absolutely not," Bofur snaps. "He's mad if he thinks Kili should be out in the fray. No, he's going to the Halls with the rest of them."

Bifur seems to sag with relief, and it's clear to Kili that neither of his caretakers wish to see him anywhere near the oncoming battle. "Come on then," the elder cousin urges, reaching for Kili's other shoulder to pull him along. "Let's get you tucked away, safe and sound."

They're nearly to the mouth of the halls when Gloin catches up with them. He looks frantic and desperate, even more so when Bofur tries to keep pushing Kili forward, to get him into the Halls before the gates can be shut.

"I'll need you on the wall," he declares, looking tired and aged beyond his years. "All three of you."

"No," Bifur snaps, just as Bofur murmurs, "He is a child."

"I need an archer -" he declares, exasperated. "I need a good archer, at least one -"

"One archer won't be enough to turn the tide," Bofur snaps. "You'll get him killed out there, and nothing else. He is a child, Gloin. He will stay with the rest of them in the Halls."

"And don't you forget just whose boy he is," Bifur supplies meaningfully.

"You don't understand!" Gloin all but wails. "There are hundreds, if not thousands of orcs headed toward us. I need every able bodied warrior I can find!"

"And are you putting your own son out in the fray?" Bofur snaps back, pushing Kili behind him in a protective gesture.

"Yes! He is to guard the gate of the Halls," he murmurs, his eyes a mixture of sadness and regret. "If I had any other options, I would use them, Bofur. You must know this. Our dwarflings are few and far between - I wouldn't risk them unnecessarily."

Kili pushes himself in front of Bofur, eyes set with determination. "I can...I can do this," he affirms despite the shaking in his voice. "I can. I can help."

Bofur is squatting in front of him not a second later. "You don't have to do this, laddie," he pleads, his eyes shining with concern and just the barest hint of fear. "You don't have to prove anything, not to anyone, you hear me?"

He nods. "I know...I know but I want...I just want everyone to be okay," he whispers. "I want to help if I can."

Bofur's face falls and he looks resigned as he nods and stands back to face Gloin. "Not at the wall," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You can have him at the gate to the Halls, or not at all."

"Of course, yes," Gloin exhales, face visibly sagging in relief.

"And I am staying with him," he elaborates.

"Yes, yes, absolutely," Gloin murmurs as he claps a hand behind Kili's neck, ducks down to press their foreheads together. "Be brave, laddie," he whispers. "I'm sorry I haven't let you train. I'm sorry."

Somehow, Kili manages to find the words to accept the warrior's apology, before he's being hustled off to the smithy and the armory and outfitted properly for battle. Bofur's worried eyes follow him the entire time, frowning when he sees that there is little armor that fits him (only a simple shirt of chainmail and a cuirass). They give Kili nearly half of all the arrows they can find, splitting the rest up among the men Gloin has chosen to be archers at the wall. His quiver is nearly full to bursting, but he still wonders if he'll have enough.

"The second you run out of arrows I am getting you inside," Bofur murmurs, seemingly having picked up on his thoughts. "I'm not keeping you out there any longer than I have to; do you understand me?"

The next few hours pass as a blur. At some point he and Bofur go to the training grounds to let him practice shooting a few arrows. His aim is horribly off and his hands are constantly shaking, but Bofur assures him that he will find his aim once the battle has started. He is force fed some broth and a small piece of bread, and before he knows it, he and Bofur are poised at the ledge above the gate to the Great Halls, just as the sun sinks below the horizon.

The settlement is eerily calm. The smoke from Fairfield has grown even thicker, and the pale haze is only illuminated by the flickering of torches that each of the battlements hold.

Below him, in front of the gate, Kili sees a few familiar faces. Gimli is off to the side, far enough on the outskirts to hopefully spare him from the worst of the fighting, should the orcs get so far. Nar had made it abundantly clear, when he had addressed the dwarrow earlier, that if the orcs were to breach the gate to the Great Halls, then all was lost. Kili desperately hoped they wouldn't make it that far. Clach and Clavin, the younglings who had been so prone to teasing and torturing him not so long ago, are situated a little ahead of Gimli, with their father, both of them clutching at their sword hilts with white-knuckled grips. He can't see where Bombur and Bifur have been positioned, but he hopes they will be safe. He knows Ori is inside the Hall, but knows not of his brothers.

He just wants everyone to be safe.

It is silent for hours, long enough that he's started to hope that the orcs were done at Fairfield and decided to move along, and leave them alone. He even starts to feel a bit sleepy, as the adrenaline from the afternoon's activity drains from him.

He's jolted back to reality by the first blood-curdling orc call in the night, before all hell breaks loose.

Everything is chaos. It doesn't take long for the orcs to breach the flimsy gate at the wall that is supposed to protect their settlement from the outside world. It is a long while before the orcs are close enough for them to see, close enough for him to aim at, and while he waits, he is forced to listen to the clash of metal upon metal, the screams of orc and dwarf alike. All of his courage wavers, and he finds himself staying pressed close against Bofur's side, desperately wishing that he could climb down from atop the gate and hide with the rest of the dwarflings.

As soon as they orcs are close enough, Baen, one of Gloin's men, gives the order for him and the five other archers perched along the wall to shoot.

He panics with the first shot. There are so many bodies moving about, and he isn't sure which are orcs and which are dwarrow. He wars with himself, bowstring pulled tight as he tries to find a good target, desperately hoping that he doesn't hit one of his own people. He's never really had to shoot moving targets before, save for some gourds that Fili had tossed in the air for him to hit last autumn.

Everything is real and moving terrifyingly fast. It's worse than any of his nightmares. He can't do this. He can't.

"Breathe, laddie," Bofur encourages from behind him. "Breathe out and shoot. Relax. You'll find your rhythm."

Kili takes his advice, drawing in a deep, steadying breath before taking aim and releasing it just as he lets the arrow fly. It doesn't hit its mark, not exactly, but it does bury itself into the leg of an orc, who howls in pain before collapsing to the ground, where three dwarrow were ready and able to take care of him.

"Good job," he encourages from behind him. "Just remember to breathe and shoot." Kili chances a look back at the toymaker, and sees his face wrought with concern, eyes scanning the mounting battle below them. There are hundreds of orcs flooding the town square, and Kili is sure they outnumber the dwarrow in the settlement, but everyone is fighting hard and he thinks that maybe they'll win.

Everything passes in a blur. He's caught up in a mantra of breathe, aim, shoot, and he's lost count of how many arrows he has let fly. The orcs may have entered the settlement, but they still look far off from being able to breach the gate, and for that he is extremely grateful.

He is scanning below him to find another suitable target, when he sees it.

Clach, his childhood nemesis, one of the boys who had beaten him nearly to death, stands with an orc sword through his stomach. From right beside him, Clavin screams in absolute agony, completely oblivious to the orc that is coming up behind him. Without thinking, Kili notches an arrow and lets it fly, watches as it buries into the skull of the approaching orc, before immediately pulling another and taking out the other, whose sword still sits grotesquely in Clach's chest.

"No!" he hears Clavin scream over the din of the battle, as the lad launches himself toward his brother and pulls him into his arms. Kili focuses on keeping the two of them safe, watching for any orcs that may come too close. If it were Fili, if he were losing Fili...he'd want every last second he could have with him.

He nearly panics when he reaches for another arrow and finds none. There are orcs all around the pair of brothers, and he can't do anything...he can't help them anymore. There are tears in his eyes and he turns frantically toward Bofur, who gives him a sympathetic look, but reaches for him to urge him back into the Halls just the same.

There's a sudden, blinding pain in his side, just behind where the cuirass protects him, and he stumbles before falling to his knees.

"No!" Bofur is shouting suddenly, catching him and easing him the rest of the way to the ground as quick as he can.

His side feels like it's on fire, and when he chances a glance down, he sees a jagged looking arrow bolt lodged in his side. He gasps weakly in pain, reaches desperately for Bofur as the burning pain in his side seems to spread with every breath that he takes. Bofur is saying something to him, shaking him and telling him to stay awake, but there's blackness creeping into his vision and it feels so warm and inviting that he wants to go to it. He thinks he might be dying, and he wishes he could see his brother and his uncle, just one more time.

Bofur shakes him one more time before everything lurches and goes black.

He is still in the blissful world right between sleep and wakefulness when fingers begin to comb through his hair. They're stroking soothing patterns against his scalp, grasping up strands of his hair and tugging on them lightly as they braid his hair piece by piece. He wants to tell them to stop, that they're wasting their time with his thin and wispy hair, but he can't dine a way to make himself voice the words.

An unknown voice of a woman is singing one of his favorite lullabies; the one Fili said he remembered from their Mum. He wants to will his eyes to open, to see who it is that sits with him, but they refuse to do as he bids. It's a calming person, whomever it is. He wishes he knew who the voice belonged to. He tries to sit up, tries to make himself move, but achieves little more than a slight twitching in his arms. Why can't he move?

"No, dear heart," the voice murmurs softly, hands not stilling their movement in his hair. "You mustn't wake up, not here; not yet."

"Want to…" he mumbles out, wondering why he can't get his voice to work properly. There's a stabbing pain in his side that he thinks could be made better with one of Oin draughts, if he could only wake up enough to take one. "Hurts," he murmurs.

"I know it does," she whispers again, hands still moving, before returning to the lullaby from before.

He struggles to open his eyes once more, and with great effort manages to get them open just a sliver to see pale blue eyes and rich ebony hair. She reminds him of Uncle Thorin, from the way she speaks, to the way she strokes his hair, to the way she looks. She seems like a nice dwarrowdam, one that he wouldn't mind spending time with and telling secrets to.

Suddenly, it all clicks into place. "Mum," he whispers, just as his eyes fall shut again. He wants to open them again, wants to see her face for himself, and he wants to know all of the little things he's always wondered about her.

"Shh, darling," she soothes, though her voice sounds impossibly sad. "Go back to sleep."

"Wan'na stay with you," he slurs out, even as her voice starts to fade away from him. He feels the barest flutter of panic in his chest; he doesn't want to leave her. He wants to stay. He wants to be with her. "Please."

"One day you will," she promises, voice faint as a whisper. "One day, my darling."

Her voice fades away completely, and he can no longer feel her hands in his hair. Everything is dark and cold, and he doesn't think he's ever felt so alone.

Aaand there will be a Part 4. It's cute how I started this one thinking it could be one chapter, isn't it? Thanks for reading, lovies. :)