AN – Whew. Writing this was…emotionally draining, to say the least. Yes, I torture our sweet boys in this chapter. A lot. But, there are some good years coming for them; I promise! I hope you all enjoy this last part.

Also, Kili is about the human equivalent of 11, Fili is about 13ish.

I still own nothing. Enjoy!

Warnings: References to death, references to battle/violence/mild gore, trigger warning: panic attack, potty words, and waaaayyyy more angst than I should have added.

Greater than Gold
Chapter 13: Thirty-Four and Twenty-Eight – Part Four
By Displaced Hobbit

How had things all gone so very, very wrong?

That was the question he was constantly asking himself now, as he sat on a cot in the would-be Great Hall turned hospital ward, Bifur with an axe buried in his skull to his right, and Kili, who shuddered through the effects of a poisoned arrow, tucked securely against his left. He'd escaped with naught but bruises and a few scrapes, but he had been obscenely fortunate. Kili and Bifur were too, though they probably didn't realize, for they'd managed to escape with their lives, and that was more than most of the settlement could boast of.

He'd panicked when Kili had fallen, jagged orc arrow through his side. The lad had already seen so much, been through so much - he'd wanted nothing more than to get him into the safety of the Halls before any harm could befall the lad, and he'd failed. If he'd been just a second faster…

No, he scolds himself. No blaming yourself.

Kili had been lucky. The poison in the arrow had been a rather common one, one that Oin had been able to provide an antidote for the second he'd rushed the lad into his makeshift infirmary. The chainmail he wore, though weak enough to allow the arrow through, had stopped it from going too deep and causing any irreparable damage. But, the poison had plenty of time to take, and Kili still had a bit of a fight ahead of him as the toxin continued to work its way out of his body.

A violent shudder works its way through the lad's form, and he hastily reaches for the nearby washcloth, dips it into a basin of cool water and presses it along the lad's fevered brow, hoping that the coolness is a small comfort to the unconscious youth.

Bifur had been even luckier, at least so far, though only time would tell if he would survive this ordeal at all. He hadn't known what to think when his cousin, the dwarf who had told him stories and taught him how to carve and convinced him to leave the mines and work with him as a toymaker, the cousin who had been more an elder brother than anything else, had been all but dragged into the infirmary, ghastly axe still lodged in his skull and blood covering his face. Oin had decided not to remove the axe, for fear of causing him to bleed to death, since he was still breathing and his heart was still beating. They had no idea what to expect when he woke, or if he would wake at all. Oin seemed confident enough that he would, but it still didn't alleviate the hours of anxious waiting.

"Is…is he…are they going to be...be okay?" an unusually quiet and timid voice calls out to him, pulling him out of his thoughts. Little Gimli, with his hair askew and eyes swollen and rimmed red from crying, sits gently on the foot of his cot, his eyes constantly flitting from Kili to Bifur and back.

He manages a small smile, for the sake of the lad and no one else. "They'll be right as rain with time. You'll see."

Gimli nods but still looks anxious. "Can I…?" he murmurs, clearly on the verge of tears once more, and Bofur gestures for him to come closer. Gimli practically crawls into his lap, immediately buries his face in his chest and lets out a shuddering sigh. He lifts a free hand up to hold the lad close, murmuring encouragements all the while. He wishes he could help more, but he knows there's not much else he can do.

Losing his mother and baby sister was more of a hurt than he can ever hope to assuage.

The orcs had managed to break through the gate to the Halls, not long after he had struggled to get Kili inside and treated by Oin. All hell had broken lose then; it had been complete and utter chaos. He'd barely had enough time to realize what was happening before he'd dragged Kili's limp form to the closest wall, covered him with his body and played dead as best as he could. He wonders if he should have gotten up and fought, if it would have made any difference, but he had promised to look after Kili, and, for better or worse, the princeling had been his first priority.

The dwarrow had followed the orcs in, managed to corner and kill all of them that had gotten inside and win the fight, but their losses had been great. So many of their dwarflings and dwarrodams had perished or been seriously injured. So many of those who had already been wrought with illness had been struck down with such thoughtlessness. So many of those who had been placed inside the halls to keep them safe…

How had things gone so wrong?

This settlement was supposed to represent a fresh start, to be the new home of so many that had already lost so much, and they just kept losing more.

He doesn't understand how any of this is fair, how the Maker allows them to go through such pain. He looks at the two boys that sit with him, one fighting the desperation that threatens to drown him, the other fighting to stay alive, and doesn't understand how two so young could have lived through such hurts already.

It isn't fair. None of this is fair.

But then again, life for the dwarrow has never been.

Everything hurts.

He feels like he is positively on fire. Every nerve ending is screaming at him, begging him to make it stop, but he doesn't know how. He knows he needs to move but he cannot figure out how. Everything around him is black, and it's pressing in on him like nothing he's ever known. He needs to get out. He needs to escape, but he can't move, can't breathe, can't even think clearly. There are hands on him now, pressing against his face, pulling him into strange directions. He wants them to stop but he can't make himself voice the words.

Everything hurts and he feels so alone. He wants to give up, wants to stop fighting, but something is telling him not to. Something is telling him to keep fighting. There's the briefest flash of gold at the corner of his vision, and he thinks he hears Fili calling him.

Then something lurches inside of him and all he knows is pain.

Bofur barely has time to get Gimli off of his lap and pull Kili into a sitting position before the older lad retches violently off the side of the cot. One of the younger healers, one whose name he can't remember, comes running, bringing a chamber pot with him to help with the sick.

"Breathe, lad," Bofur urges, twisting himself so that Kili is nearly in his lap, his arms coming to wrap around the boy's middle in what he hopes is a comforting embrace. Gimli's eyes are wide, but he reaches out one hand to stroke along Kili's arm in an attempt to help calm him down.

"No, Fee," Kili chokes out as he starts to struggle against Bofur's hold, forcefully jerking his arm away from Gimli. "Help me, Fee! Uncle!" His voice takes on a desperate tone as he thrashes against him. "Help!"

"Shh, Kili," he murmurs. "Hush, lad; it's alright. I've got you. You're safe."

"Uncle, please," he whispers, though he stops struggling and sags back against Bofur's chest, a tiny, broken sob escaping him as he does. Tears are running in steady rivulets down his cheeks, and he's trembling something awful.

"Shh," he soothes again, hands moving to brush away the sweaty strands of hair that cling to the boy's face. The healer brings up another cool cloth to wipe away the sick and sweat, before pressing a smooth jug against Kili's lips and urging him to drink.

"That's it," he encourages quietly. "Drink some more. It'll help flush the poison out."

Kili obediently takes a long drink from the jug before pulling away and coughing pitifully. "That's it," Bofur encourages quietly, patting the lad's back gently before laying him back down on the cot at the healer's instruction.

"Keep a good eye on him. Make him drink some water every hour or so" the healer demands, rising from his spot on the floor. "The next few hours are going to be rather difficult, I'm afraid." His eyes fix on Kili's slender form, a concerned frown stretched across his face, before setting about cleaning up the sick and tending to his other charges.

Bofur brushes a calloused hand across Kili's face, frowning at the heat he feels there. The lad is drawing shallow, hiccupping breaths, his whole form shaking with gentle tremors. He shifts just slightly, and his face screws up in pain as he draws in a ragged gasp.

"Are you cold, laddie?" he asks, hopeful that a warm blanket might help the trembling in the boy's limbs. Kili nods the affirmative, albeit slowly, before letting out another pitiful whine. He glances up to Gimli, who still sits at the foot of his cot, wide eyed and visibly shaken. "Fetch a blanket for me, won't you lad?" he asks.

Gimli is up like a shoot, hurrying about the hall in search for a blanket.

"Hurts," Kili mumbles from beside him, drawing his attention away from the young dwarfling.

"I know," he sighs, reaching for the cool cloth and wiping the lad's face once more. "It's the poison, lad. Oin thinks it will run its course quickly enough," he explains.

"Where is everyone?" he mumbles. "I saw...I saw Gimli but where's…?"

"Bifur's right here, resting up just like you," he says, trying his best to sound reassuring, but his voice cracks on the last few words as he turns to regard his wounded cousin. "Bombur's okay; he's helping to cook food. He should be around soon enough."

"An…and Ori?" Kili asks, just as Gimli returns with a rather scratchy looking blanket, one that he quickly sets about placing overtop of his new friend.

Bofur sighs. "Haven't seen him or his brothers yet, to be truthful," he admits as he helps Gimli to tuck the blanket around their injured archer. "I'll try to find word on him, alright? All I know is that he and Dori were barricaded in their home; they weren't in the halls when…" he trails off, not yet about the bring voice to the atrocity he'd seen.

"I saw...I saw Clach and…" Kili starts, but a rough sob cuts him off. Bofur runs a hand through the lad's hair; he had seen too. "It was awful...it was…" he shudders, dissolving fully into tears then. Bofur pulls him up, draws him close to his chest and wraps his arms tightly around him.

He looks up and meets Gimli's tear-filled eyes, before extending an arm out to his as well. He youngster needs no further invitation, as he immediately slots himself against Kili's back, wraps his arms around his friend as he cries out his own anguish.

Bofur holds them both, probably tighter than he needs to, daring to hope that his embrace will keep the lads safe, that it will shield them from further pain and loss.

He hates that he knows it won't.

When he wakes again, he is alone.

The Great Hall is dark and eerily quiet. He immediately reaches across the cot, pats his hand around to try and find Bofur or Gimli's form, but the sheets are cool and he nearly falls off the cot himself trying to find them. Fear starts to claw its way up his spine. He's alone. He doesn't want to be alone, He needs to find Bofur or Gimli or Ori or someone because he cannot bear the thought of being alone.

He drags himself upright, heaving with the effort that it takes for his exhausted body, and swings his legs to the side of the cot. The cold of the stone stings the pads of his feet as they touch, and he recoils for just a second before pressing his feet down to the floor once more. He has to find them.

He cannotbe alone.

His legs are horribly unsteady as he stands, and his knees give out on the first step that he takes, sending him toppling to the hard stone. With a small, frustrated cry, he pushes himself back up, only mildly alarmed at how much effort it seems to take, at how hard it is to just breathe. With a great deal of effort, and by pulling himself up with the assistance of the cot, he manages to get himself standing again, only to take another step that his legs could not support, and wind up back on the floor.

He feels like he's drowning, then. Desperation claws at him. He cannot be alone.

He can't. He can't.

He gives up on walking. His legs feel like they're made of lead, and he knows he won't be able to get far. With a tiny whimper, he starts to pull himself with his hands, but it's so hard to find purchase on the rough stone and why can't he breathe? He keeps taking in big, gasps full of air but none of it seems to reach his lungs and he's cold and he's scared and alone. He keeps crawling, keeps pulling himself along, keeps trying to breathe but he can't and his head is starting to feel so fuzzy and there's a deafening roar in his ears and why is he alone?

There's light all around him then, and voices, but he doesn't know who they belong to. He tries to recoil into himself, does his best to curl up into a ball despite the pain that flares up in his side. There's hands on him then, pulling him up and wrapping around him and holding him and rubbing his back and he knows those hands. He's safe, he knows, but he still can't breathe.

He's not alone anymore.

The roar starts to fade from his ears, and he can hear someone crying and someone speaking. He can hear someone gasping for breath and someone shouting frantically.

He can feel Bofur's fingers carding through his hair, can hear him murmuring that everything will be alright, can hear that he sounds shit-scared.

"Breathe, laddie, breathe," he's murmuring. "Come on now; you can do it. Breathe, Kili; I need you to breathe." He sounds so worried, so scared and he's never heard Bofur sound like that and he never wants him to again, so he does his best to focus on the older dwarf's words. Belatedly, he realizes that the screaming and crying was coming from him, and he takes deep, steadying breaths of air to calm himself down. "That's it," Bofur encourages, so he tries to continue, but it's so hard…

"I thought…" he gasps, suddenly realizing that he is shaking something awful. "I thought I was alone," he whispers, finally aware of his hands again, so he curls them into the fabric over Bofur's chest, despite the fact that his hands feel like they are on fire.

"I'm sorry," Bofur whispers, and Kili can tell that he's crying too. "I just left for a moment to check on Bifur; I'm sorry, lad. I'm so, so sorry."

The world slowly comes back into focus. He becomes aware of how Bofur is rocking him back and forth, of how the light has dimmed, of how those awful screams and gasps have faded, of how cold the stone is under his legs, of how much his hands and side burn.

"I need to see your hands, lad," another voice asks, one that he dimly recognizes as the healer who'd helped him before. With great reluctance, he lets go of Bofur's shirt, but is alarmed to find his fingers covered in blood.

The healer examines his hands carefully, and when he flips them over to examine his palms, Kili audibly gasps. There are three deep cuts on his left palm, cuts that he hadn't truly felt before, but now that he sees them he is all too aware of how much it stings. He winces as the healer prods at him, highly dismayed by the streams of blood coming from them. He must have cut them on the stone but he hadn't even felt it…

"We'll have to stitch these," the healer murmurs a moment later. "Come on; let's get you up."

Bofur helps him to stand on shaky legs and leads him the few steps back to the cot. He's in a different room than before, he realizes. The last time he'd woken he'd been in the Great Hall with hundreds of others, but now he is in a small room that had just two cots and no one else. He looks up to Bofur to voice his question about where he is, but falls silent when he notices the bloody handprint on the front of his tunic and the stricken expression on his normally carefree face. He's led back to the cot and sat down so that his back is propped against the cool stone of the wall behind him. The healer comes with a small basin of water and several washrags, and uses one to start cleaning at the cuts on his hand. Bofur takes another sighs as he sets about wiping his cheeks, clearing away the salty tracks left by his tears.

"M'sorry," he murmurs finally, pointedly looking away as the healer prepares to stitch his wounds closed. "I just…I didn't know where you were." He winces as the needle presses through his skin the first time, and Bofur cups his cheek before pressing their foreheads together.

"It's alright lad," he murmurs. "It's okay. We moved you in here so you could rest better, since the poison seems to have worked itself out. Bifur woke up not long ago, so I went to check on him. I should have woke you first, but I just…" he frowns and shakes his head. "I wanted you to rest. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Kili mumbles, feeling incredibly drained. He hisses in pain as the healer continues to stitch him back together. "Is Mister Bifur alright?"

A shadow passes across the toymaker's face. "Physically, yes; he'll be fine. But he doesn't...he can't seem to remember how to speak at all."

Kili's head snaps up in alarm. "What?" His favorite thing about Bifur is listening to the older dwarf tell stories while they carve things together, rare as those instances were, and Bifur has always had such a beautiful way with words that he just can't imagine him not being able to speak.

"From the head wound," Bofur clarifies, and Kili's heart positively breaks from the remorseful expression on his features. "Oin doesn't think it will go away. He was able to use iglishmek, but the words just...weren't there."

He doesn't know what to say, but he is thankful that the three of them have survived. "What about…?" he starts to ask, unwilling to finish the question because he knows he won't be able to take bad news.

"Ori is fine," Bofur replies, giving him a small smile. "Nori is here; he broke his leg but he should heal up fine. He said that Dori and Ori stayed locked up in their home, though a few orcs did get in that he took care of. Might not look it, but Dori's always been a strong enough fighter."

"All done," the healer interrupts quietly, and Kili looks back to examine his new stitches. "I'll get you bandaged up, but those shouldn't take too long to heal."

"Where's Gimli?" he asks. "If he was here does that mean he was hurt?"

"He's not...physically hurt," Bofur murmurs, sighing heavily. "He...his mum...and the baby...they didn't…"

Kili is shaking his head, disbelief clouding his features. "No," he murmurs. "No, no, no. That's not fair...that's not..."

Bofur sighs and cards a hand through his hair, before pulling his head against his shoulder. "It's not fair," he agrees. "Not at all."

"Thank you," a young dwarf lass murmurs as Kili hands her a few steaming bowls of stew. It's been two days since he woke up for good, five days since the orc attack. He's slept little, and the few short naps he's taken have been filled with nightmares. Bombur had taken him up on his offer to help out in the kitchen, to help make sure that those who needed a meal were able to get one. He's realized how fortunate he is with every interaction he's had. There's not a single dwarf he's seen that hasn't lost someone, be it a loved one or a friend. Sadness permeates through the air, and he can feel it in every breath, pressing in on him constantly.

He wishes Thorin and Fili's trip hadn't been kept such a secret. He wants to send a raven, wants to hear from them, to know that they are all right, but he can't, not if it means putting their safety at risk. Thorin had been absolutely clear that they not send word unless it was absolutely necessary, for fear of attracting unwanted attention. He needs to know that they are okay, that they haven't met with any trouble on the road, that Dain hasn't brought any ill-will with him.

He needs Fili because he's can feel himself falling apart, and Fili's always been the best at putting him back together.

"Kili," he snaps himself out of his revere, looks up to see Clavin, his hair hanging limply around his face and his beard unbraided. His eyes are rimmed red and swollen and Kili's fairly certain he hasn't slept since the attack and he can't blame him for a second. If he had lost Fili...if he ever had to see Fili die he doesn't think he could take it.

"Clavin," he murmurs, using his good hand to fill a bowl of stew, unsure of what to say.

"I need five," he explains. "For my sisters and my mum."

Kili just nods, grateful for the distraction as he fills the requested bowls and balances them on a tray.

"I just…" Clavin starts as he finishes filling the last bowl. "I just wanted to say…to thank you."

Kili frowned. "I was too late," he murmurs. "I didn't see in time. I could have…"

"No, you…"he interrupts, his face twisted in a pained expression. "You couldn't have saved him. It…there was too much...it…" he stammers. "But you...you gave me the chance to say goodbye and I...thank you."

Kili feels tears pricking at the back of his eyes as he nods.

"And I'm sorry," he adds. "I...I was a stupid kid, and I thought I was...better than you, because you're different, and that...that wasn't fair. And the fight...oh, Aule…"

"It's okay," Kili murmurs, surprised that he means it. "It…it's okay. I'm fine now and…it's...it's okay."

There are tears in Clavin's eyes when he meets them again. "Thank you," the older lad whispers as he reaches for the tray. He gives Kili a soft, timid smile before disappearing back into the halls.

Kili scrubs at his own eyes with the back of his hand before forcing himself to get back to work, lest he start dwelling too much.

Finally, finally they can see the ruined wall of the settlement before them. The air smells thickly of smoke and ash is still floating up from their home. The sun is shining, the sky is clear and bright, but it all seems so mockingly calm. Thorin spurs his pony on, nearly running it into the ground in his haste to get home. Fili and Dwalin are right behind him, and Balin and the guard are just a few leagues back. They're barely inside the settlement before they've launched themselves off of the ponies. Balin and the guard set about wrangling them and corralling them into the stables, while Thorin, Fili, and Dwalin burst into the town square.

It's full of death.

Fili almost screams at the sight of it. It's been days and there are still bodies everywhere. There are quite a few dwarrow bustling about, loading bodies of orcs onto wagons and dragging them away to be burned. Still others are carefully collecting their own dead so they can be returned to the stone, trying to identify those that have been lost to report to their families. It is carnage and death and loss and the smell of it makes Fili sick.

He needs to find Kili; he needs to find his baby brother right now because damn him if he mucked everything up just to lose him, damn him if he never gets to fix what he broke because he had been so stupid.

"Thorin!" Gloin calls out, looking entirely exasperated and at his wits end. He looks thin and frail and worn and it shakes Fili to his core because he's never seen any of his kin in such a state.

"Where is Kili?" his uncle asks as soon as they are close enough, not bothering to hide the desperation in his voice.

"In the Hall," Gloin answers quickly. "He was injured in the battle but he'll recover. Thorin, I need to speak with you. Nar is dead, and we need you to…"

"What do you mean he was in the battle?" Fili nearly shrieks as soon as Gloin's words process for him. "You made him fight?"

"I didn't have a choice! We needed every able-bodied dwarf we could get," he explains, but he does quiver under Dwalin and Thorin's murderous glares.

"Come on, lad," Dwalin mutters gruffly, dragging Fili by his arm in the direction of the Halls.

"You put my boy's life at risk," Thorin all but growls, eyes narrowed and hand subconsciously reaching for his sword. "He was injured? He could have died…"

"I had to! Gimli fought as well...and…" Gloin heaves out a heavy sigh. "Kili fought bravely, Thorin. He saved many lives. He...he was injured, yes, but he will be fine…"

"He is a child!" Thorin shouts. "Though I would wager he isn't any longer, is he? Not really. You had no right…"

"Da, they're ready to give Mum and Colina to the stone," a small voice cuts in, and Gloin squeezes his eyes shut. Thorin turns to regard Gimli, who looks a bit bruised but otherwise no worse for wear. Then the lad's words sink in, and he realizes, with a terrifying chillness to his gut, just what Gloin has lost.

"I did what I had to, Thorin," Gloin murmurs one last time. "I'm sorry."

Thorin is stunned into silence. Then the realization that Kili probably would have been kept with Aerona and Colina and the other dwarrodams and dwarflings hits, that he could have been killed alongside them, and a chill that is not at all from the cold air washes over him.

"Kili!" an all too familiar voice calls out, and Bombur shouts out in delighted surprise from behind him. He drops the bowl of soup he'd just filled, barely cares as it clatters down to the floor to be wasted before big, strong arms wrap tightly around him.

"Dwalin?" he calls out, disbelieving, but tightens his hold on the warrior nonetheless.

Dwalin pulls him back to look him in the eyes, and Kili is shocked to see the tears brimming there. "Oh, laddie. Are you hurt? Are you alright?"

Kili nods. "I'm okay," he promises. "I'm...I'll be fine. Where's Fee? And Uncle?"

Dwalin pulls him back in, hugs him impossibly tight as he presses a kiss against his temple. "Right behind me; we weren't sure where you were. We split up to find you." Dwalin easily hefts him up into his arms, and Kili wraps his arms around his neck and tightens his legs around his waist.

Unexpectedly, he dissolves into tears. "I was...I was so scared," he admits as he presses his face into Dwalin's neck, wanting to hide his tears but mostly craving the embrace of a man he'd come to regard as an uncle his entire life. "I missed you all so much." He is filled with relief that they have all made it home, that everyone is all right and that they will all be together again soon. His heart feels lighter than it has in months. He loves Bofur, really he does, but Dwalin and Balin, Thorin and Fili are his family. He never wants to be without them again.

"Shh," Dwalin soothes as he carries him away from the kitchens. "It's alright; we're all alright. Everything will be fine now."

Despair still clings to him. He's seen too much, lost too much. "No it won't!" he sobs. "It's not okay. It's...everything is wrong." He's dimly aware of being set back on his feet, but Dwalin's arms are still warm and tight around him.

"It is," he admits, his hands coming down to rub comfortingly at his back. "But it will...time heals all things, lad. You'll see." Kili can tell that his voice is choked with tears, and another kiss is pressed against his temple.

"Kili!" a voice calls from nearby, and Kili practically rips himself away from Dwalin before flinging himself at his brother.

"Fili, Fili, Fili," he chants like a mantra, gripping his brother close and sobbing harder than he ever has in his life. He doesn't want to be separated from Fili, not ever again. Fili is crying too, and hugging him so incredibly close and for the first time in days he feels safe, he feels like maybe everything will be okay. Fili is speaking to him, but he can't make out most of his words. But he's here and they're speaking and by Aule, Fili must've gotten taller and bigger and stronger because Kili feels so impossibly small in his embrace.

Fili pulls back from him, holds him at an arms length and look him over. "Are you hurt?" he manages to say, though his voice is tight with emotions Kili can't even name, and his eyes are full with tears.

"I'll be fine," he replies, just as Fili's gaze catches the bandages on his hand.

"Just your hand?" he murmurs, frowning deeply when Kili shakes his head. With a small amount of hesitation, he lifts his shirt to reveal the still-healing wound in his side. It looks monumentally worse than it feels, still swollen around the small puncture and bruised black and purple and yellow, and he promises as much to Fili when his elder brother's eyes widen like saucers, and even Dwalin lets out a small gasp of surprise.

"Poison?" the warrior asks, running timid fingers around the edge of the bruising.

Kili nods. "But it's all out of me now. I'm okay. I promise, Fee."

Fili doesn't look the slightest bit convinced, but he nods anyway. "You're so skinny," he whispers instead as he pulls Kili back to his chest. "I've been wearing silks and furs and feasting and you've been...I'm sorry. I should have been here for you. I should have…"

"Stop," Kili whispers. "It's okay. I'll be fine; we'll all be fine." He tucks his head in against Fili's chest and hugs him back, trying to focus on evening out his breathing again. He turns his head back to look at Dwalin, to ask him about Balin, when he sees his uncle running down the hallway towards them. A wide smile splits his face; it had been a great comfort to hear that his uncle was all right, but to see him again…

"Uncle!" he cries out, disentangling one hand from Fili and extending it toward him (he's far too reluctant to let go of his brother just yet) just as Thorin drops to his knees in front of them. He reaches out trembling hands to cup Kili's cheeks, brings him in close and kisses his forehead, breathing out words of love and relief in Khuzdul before wrapping his arms around both of them and holding them tight.

It doesn't change the fact that he's scared and he's hungry and he's weak, but he has his family again, and he's fairly certain that there isn't much that matters past that.

Dwalin sighs as he sinks into the settee opposite the armchair Thorin is currently occupying. He can hear Fili and Kili speaking quietly from the direction of their room, and he's fairly certain that at least one of them is in tears, but he wants to give them their privacy after so long apart, especially with all that had happened just before they'd left.

"Thank you again for letting us stay with you," Balin murmurs as he emerges from the kitchen. The Fundin brothers had returned to their home to find it absolutely in shambles. The orcs must have thought there was something of value hiding out in there, as they'd ransacked the entire place. Thorin's home had been mostly untouched, though the door had been broken in and would need mending in the coming days.

"It's nothing," Thorin replies automatically, eyes locked on the dying fire in the hearth. "Better than having you stay in the Halls when there's so much sickness there." Balin nods in agreement before excusing himself to the guest room, clearly fatigued after evening meetings with Gloin regarding Nar's wishes that Thorin become head of the settlement after him.

"It will be fine," Dwalin comments once his brother has left. "Good practice for ruling before we get back to Erebor."

"I know," Thorin agrees, before falling silent once more. Dwalin can see the practical storm brewing on his face, and has so many questions to ask of his friend that he isn't quite sure how to put into words.

"I don't know if I can do this," Thorin murmurs a while later, eyes still fixed on the fire, but the rest of his face is filled with doubt and hesitation. "I...this was never supposed to be just me. It should be father leading the settlement, not me." He sniffles just slightly, and Dwalin manages to catch sight of the shimmer of tears in his eyes. "I should still have Frerin and Dis with me...I was never any good without their help...it shouldn't be me...I'm not...I don't know if I can do this by myself."

Dwalin sighs, rises from the settee before kneeling in front of the armchair. It is rare for him to see such self-doubt in his friend, and he wasn't entirely sure what he should, or could do for him. "Look at me, Thorin," he urges quietly, offering up a small, supportive smile when he does as he's asked. "You are a great leader, a great king; we all see it in you. We trust in you…"

"And what if I'm not deserving of that trust?" he murmurs, sounding lost. "Fili and Kili...I've not done right by them. Fili is so full of doubt that I've let fester in him...and Kili...Kili should be dead from my negligence, by all counts; it's a miracle he survived, luck."

"Shut up," Dwalin scolds, though not unkindly.

"If I can't even manage two dwarflings, how am I to care for this entire settlement?" Thorin whispers piteously

"You had no way of knowing this would happen," he reminds.

Thorin scoffs. "And how were we so horrendously unprepared?"

"But we need someone to guide us through the darkness once more; we need you to set us right again," he continues.

"And if I can't?" Thorin asks, blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear the tears in his vision.

"You can," Dwalin murmurs, pressing their foreheads together. "I've followed you through hell on earth, my friend. I know you can lead us to prosperity once more."

His king looks wholly unconvinced, but he isn't able to speak with him further, for Kili meanders back into the front room, wearing an oversized blue sweater and cradling his injured hand close to his chest. "Uncle?" he calls, voice quiet and unsure. "Are you alright?"

Thorin has to chuckle humorlessly at that. No matter what, Kili has always been able to pick up on his emotions, and apparently now he can do it through walls. He tiredly rubs at his face, hoping that he just looks tired and not like he was near the brink of tears. "I'm fine, my boy," he murmurs finally, and Dwalin rises from his spot on the floor before excusing himself to bed, ruffling Kili's hair as he passes him by. "Are you?" he asks.

He knows Kili's not. He's naught but skin and bones, and is almost frightfully pale after his ordeal with the poison. There are dark circles under his eyes, his cheeks are far too hollow, and he's holding himself like he's afraid the very floor will open up underneath him and swallow him whole.

The lad only hesitates for a second before shaking his head no. "I saw...it was...it was awful, Uncle."

He knows. He was just about Kili's age when the dragon came. That had been the first time he had seen death, and it had haunted him to this very day. He'd never wanted that for Kili, never wanted that for either of them, but he'd failed them. Again.

"Come on then," he says, gathering his courage and walking over to the boy. "You look like you haven't slept in days," he confesses. "I'll stay with you - you and your brother - so you can get some sleep." Kili looks immensely relieved, and offers him a small smile and a nod, before taking his hand as Thorin leads him back to his bedroom.

They fall asleep in a way that they haven't since the lads were very small, Thorin on his side with Kili curled against his chest and Fili spooned behind him, and for a moment, he lets himself think that all is not lost, that he hasn't failed them entirely, that he can do this.

But Kili is thrashing and screaming after less than an hour, fighting invisible demons, and Fili looks so utterly horrified and lost, and all he can do is wonder how things had gone so very wrong.

Welp, there you have it, my dears. This monstrously long series of events has finally come to a close. But a storm is brewing, isn't it?