AN – Hey-o, this one's a doozy. Lots of brotherly love abounds, and lots of FEELLLSSSS. I hope you all like this one. I actually didn't plan on this chapter, but it came to me in a dream.

I still own nothing. Enjoy!

Warnings: Battle scenes, mildly graphic description of death, mild violence/gore, mentions of slavery and abduction. Talk about babies being soul bonded (but remember that this will not become Durincest), Uncle Dwalin saves the day again!

Greater than Gold
Chapter 19: Sixty-Four and Fifty-Eight
By Displaced Hobbit

Fíli sighs happily, grateful for the warmth of the sun on his face, of the freshness of the cool autumn air as it fills his lungs. He's been cooped up inside for far too long, acting as the head of the settlement in Thorin's stead, though he was under Balin's constant guidance and supervision. It had been a little over a year since Thorin had suddenly up and left to search for his father, chasing rumors and reports received from all corners of the earth, and both he and his brother felt his absence keenly.

"I don't know how Uncle does it," he grumbles slightly, nudging Kíli's shoulder with his own as they walk through the forest. "I can't stand to be inside all day. Most of the time it feels like my head is so full it will explode."

His little brother hums in agreement. "S'why I spend all summer and autumn outside," he murmurs. "Well, as much of it as I can manage."

Fíli laughs softly. "You spend half the winter outside as well," he comments dryly. "Not that I'm complaining though. Especially when you manage to bring home an elk."

Kíli gives him an impish grin, standing a bit straighter at his brother's praise. In the distance, Dwalin is waiting for them, having taken the initiative to leave at first light to set up a camp for their brief hunting outing. Normally, Kíli would have left with him, and Fíli would have joined later on, after his morning session with Balin, but the warrior was insistent that neither of them travels alone. Kíli had complained about Dwalin's constant hovering, but Fíli could understand why the old warrior was being so cautious. Last time Thorin had left the settlement for an extended period of time, Kíli had nearly died. In truth, Fíli found himself grateful that they were under near constant supervision.

"Come on, lads," Dwalin says as soon as they are within earshot. "There's two boar roaming around here; we should be able to get at least one of them."

They set off on the trail, following the signs of the boar for a mile or so, before Kíli suddenly stops and stands up straighter, looking to the east and away from the boar's trail. "Do you hear that?" he asks, brow furrowed in concentration.

Fíli and Dwalin cast each other speculative looks, falling silent and listening closely. Dwalin shrugs, and Fíli is about to shake his head when he hears it - the distant sound of shouting.

Kíli veers off from the course, following his ears swiftly, moving almost silently through the underbrush of the forest. Fíli and Dwalin follow him, though they are quite a bit slower, as they are trying to move as silently as possible. Abruptly, Kíli stops, and Fíli sees why. There's a rather large encampment ahead of them, with several dozen men milling about. There are a multitude of others sitting about, shackles on their wrists, and chains leading away from them. He's only ever seen such restraints on criminals, but these people don't look like criminals. In fact...they're all dwarrow, a lot of them dwarrowdams and dwarflings.

"What is this?" he utters, shocked.

Dwalin curses under his breath. "Slave traders."

"What?!" Kíli whisper-shouts. "But there's...there's so many children...how can they...how?"

They've only ever heard of slavery from Balin's lessons, as Thorin had resolutely refused to engage in such a practice. In fact, none of Durin's line had owned slaves in living memory, so it was hard for him to grasp that it still existed. "Where are they taking them?" he asks, reaching forward to place a comforting hand on his brother's arm. He can feel how tense Kíli is, how distressed his brother has become, but Kíli had always been far more empathetic than most.

"Hard to say," Dwalin answers, anger burning quietly in his eyes. "The nerve of those men; thinking they can own us…"

"We have to do something," Kíli says suddenly. "We have to help them." He turns imploring eyes to his brother and weapons master, begging them to agree.

Dwalin eyes the men, frowning hard. "They're too well-armed, and who knows how many of them there are," he says, shaking his head at Kíli. "It's too much for the three of us to manage; it'd be suicide."

"So we go home and get help," Kíli pleads, and then it's Fíli who shakes his head.

"We would...we would need approval from Balin first, to bring the patrol in," he explains, sadness tainting his voice as he realizes they would be fighting a losing battle. "He'd never agree to it, to risking lives of our own to save them. And we don't have the resources or the room to house them…"

"But it's the right thing to do!" Kíli whisper-shouts, barely managing to keep his voice down. "Fee…"

"He's right," Fíli says, turning to look at Dwalin. "We have to at least try."

Dwalin frowns, but nods anyway. "I think you're right though, laddie. With winter coming...I don't know that we'll have the resources to spare." He pats Kíli's shoulder comfortingly, as if in an apology. "Come on, lads."

Kíli shakes his head, clearly reluctant to leave, but Fíli reaches for his arm and pulls him away gently. "Shouldn't…shouldn't someone stay? And keep an eye on things? What if...what if they leave?"

Dwalin looks back toward the encampment, and his eyes widen. "Lads, get down!" he hisses, grabbing at both of their arms and pulling them down into the underbrush. Not a moment later, they hear the heavy tread of boots coming closer.

"Take that one out in the woods and kill it!" one of the men in the distance sneers, laughter evident in his voice. "Sickly thing like that won't get us any coin at all."

The man passes right by them, chuckling as he does, dragging a young dwarfling behind him. At the notion of his own death, the dwarfling begins to struggle wildly, kicking and crying out in his attempt to escape. The man pauses not far from them, though he has moved quite a bit away from their camp, tossing the dwarfling to the ground. The lad tries desperately to get up, but the man kicks him hard in the chest, sending him back down to the ground.

To his right, Fíli sees that Kíli is reaching for an arrow, stealthily adjusting himself in the underbrush to remain hidden while he draws his bow. He knows, knows that Kíli is about to be something ridiculously stupid and reckless, something that could get them all killed.

"Kee, don't!" he hisses under his breath, desperate to not be heard. Dwalin makes a mad grab at his brother from his other side, but he's just too far away, and barely manages to graze his boot. Fíli curses under his breath, quickly grabbing the throwing axe stowed in his boot to prepare himself as the man pulls out a dagger and advances on the cowering dwarfling.

Fíli hesitates, just as Kíli pulls back on his bow. The encampment is close...if those men catch them...well, they'd have three more dwarrow on their line, if any of them survives that long. The dwarfling cries out once again, and it sounds so, so similar to how Kíli had when he was much younger...

He doesn't even realize that Kíli has let the arrow fly until the man sputters and falls to his knees, bolt of an arrow lodged firmly in his neck. Behind him, Dwalin curses, but they both quickly spring into action. Fíli pulls his axe, springs forward with deadly accuracy and gruesomely finishes what Kíli started, dragging the axe along the man's throat and ending his life, while Kíli jumps on the dwarfling, covering him from the sight and placing a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound when he cries out in surprise.

"Hurry up lads," Dwalin hisses, eyes on the encampment, watching for any suspicious movements and covering their backs.

"Shh," Kíli murmurs, pulling the dwarfling up into his arms. "We're here to help you. We're taking you somewhere safe." The dwarfling's big blue eyes are terrified and filled with tears, but he nods in acceptance of Kíli's words, then burrows his face into the crook of his neck with a sob. His brother looks back at him with a nod, and they take off swiftly into the woods, hugging the underbrush as closely as possible, with Dwalin keeping a constant watch behind them.

The men don't appear to notice, and it doesn't seem like anyone follows them, but Fíli doesn't dare breathe a sigh of relief until the walls of the settlement come into view, and they are safely inside them. His mind is whirring; their quick hunting outing had rapidly turned into something more. And Kíli was right. They had to do something.

Kíli sinks down to his knees and sets the terrified dwarfling down on the ground to look him over. He's covered in bruises; his wrists are rubbed red and raw from the chains that once bound him. He has tears streaming down his face, leaving clear tracks on the dirtied skin. He has blue, blue eyes, even brighter than their Uncle's and mussed auburn hair, with just a slight dusting of stubble on his chin.

"Are you alright?" Fíli asks, kneeling down next to his brother and the dwarfling. "Are you hurt anywhere?" He reaches forward to brush some of the stray locks from the lad's face, but the dwarfling flinches away and cowers closer to Kíli.

"It's alright; you're safe now," Kíli murmurs calmly, and when he reaches a hand up to stroke the lad's hair, he doesn't startle. "No one will hurt you here. This is Fíli; he's my brother. My name is Kíli. What's your name?"

The boy just shakes his head, disheveled hair falling back into his face, and curls closer to Kíli's chest with a sob.

"You lads should get him to the healers," Dwalin says, still breathing heavily from their sprint through the woods. "I will go and speak with Balin about the slavers and tell him that we should keep a close eye on the wall. Just in case."

Kíli nods again, and Fíli watches as his brother carefully gathers the little dwarfling back into his arms, tucking his head tightly under his chin. In truth he feels more than a little useless; the dwarfling seems afraid of him, but he appears to trust Kíli. He wonders if he will only make the child even more uncomfortable if he accompanies them to the houses of healing.

"I'll come with you," he says to Dwalin, standing just as the warrior prepares to depart. "I'm sure Mister Balin will need a lot of convincing if we are to get him to do this."

Kíli gives him a small smile. "Thank you," he murmurs. "Please, Fíli. We have to help them. You have to make him see that."

He can only nod as he attempts to swallow down the lump in his throat, following off behind Dwalin without a second glance.

"It should go without saying that I'll be punishing the both of you for that stunt later on," the warrior murmurs. "I know you lads have you hearts in the right place, but if you're not careful, you'll get yourselves killed."

Fíli sighs and nods. "This is...this is why I hate that he's the spare," Fíli whispers once they're far enough away from Kíli that he doesn't think they'll be heard. "He nearly got himself killed for a dwarfling he doesn't even know. If it were me, or Uncle, or you or Bofur or anyone he actually cared about he wouldn't have hesitated at all. Not a bit."

"I know," Dwalin says quietly, voice somber and almost regretful. "And I've no idea how to train that out of him."

Kíli sinks back into the armchair in the house of healing, as he begins to feel the exhaustion settle into his bones while he anxiously awaits Balin's decision regarding the slave traders. The little dwarfling was considerably calmer, having been looked over by Oin and given some herbal tea to help him relax and to soothe him after his ordeal. His injuries hadn't been too bad - he'd suffered several cracked ribs from the man's rough treatment, and the skin of his wrists had been torn and infect from the chains they once bore.

"Lobruk," the dwarfling murmurs sleepily as he settles into the furs atop his cot. "You asked my name before," he clarifies at Kíli's bewildered expression. "I...thank you. For saving me."

Kíli gives him a small smile, genuinely happy that they had been able to help.

"Are you gonna save my Mama too?"

His blood turns to ice in his veins. He regards the lad once more, who looks so small and frail under the furs, eyes impossibly bright with unshed tears.

"They killed Papa a long time ago, but Mama's still there," he murmurs, tears spilling when he blinks.

He swallows down the lump that has welled up in his throat. "I'll try," he promises, not trusting himself to elaborate any further. The dwarfling - Lobruk - seems contented with his answer, the barest hint of a smile tugging the corners of his mouth as he snuggles deeper into the furs, heavy eyelids finally falling shut.

Kíli's stomach has turned to lead. He sits, unmoving and scarcely able to breathe, until he is positively certain that the lad is well and truly asleep, before he all but sprints to the settlement's Town Hall.

The door pulls open just as he reaches it, revealing a rather livid looking Fíli and an exhausted Dwalin.

"Fee…" he calls, hesitantly. "Did he…?"

"No," Fíli snaps. "He said no, Kíli."

He cannot help the undignified wail that escapes him. "Why? How can he…"

"There's nowhere for them to go, laddie," Dwalin mutters, and from the fatigue in his voice Kíli knows that he fought hard for him. "We'd barely be able to keep them fed. We can't help them. As bad as it is to say...they're better off where they are," he explains, though he sounds utterly remorseful.

Kíli pushes past them with a frustrated noise, ignoring it when Fíli yells out to him to stop, heading straight into Balin's office, without even taking the courtesy to knock before he slams the door open. His tutor looks up as he's startled, but then his face pinches into an expression of annoyance.

"My decision is final, laddie," he says easily, turning his attention back to the papers on his desk with a sigh.

"You'd let them all die?" he accuses, jerking out of his brother's grip when Fíli grabs his shoulder to pull him away. "That's what you're doing! We could help them, we could save them and you're just going to leave them there?"

"Save them for what?" Balin snaps, rising up from his chair and slamming his hands down on the desk. "To starve to death when we run out of food? To freeze during the winter? We don't have the means to support them if we could, and I will not risk the lives of our patrolmen for a few measly slaves."

Kíli jaw drops in surprise, and Fíli successfully grabs him to start pulling him back. "Come on, nadadith. He's right. As awful as it is, he's right."

"They're not just slaves," Kíli snaps as his brother pulls him away, blinking rapidly to clear the tears that suddenly blur his vision. "They're people. They're our people. They're not property! They don't deserve to be…to be owned. Mister Balin, please!"

"Our people are the ones who live inside these walls!" Balin snaps, uncharacteristically angry. "And until you are ready to take responsibility for any blood that may be spilled by our people in a folly attempt to free those slaves, you will be silent. I'll not have blood on my hands, not for you. You've given me enough of a mess with that dwarfling. Know your place."

His words sting, as they were meant to, and Kíli falls silent and lets Fíli pull him away. "Come on, Kee," he murmurs as he wraps an arm around his shoulders. "You did what you could, okay? You saved that dwarfling and that's all you can do."

Kíli twists from his grip, tears pooling in his eyes once more. "But his mum, Fee. His mum is still there and he doesn't...he doesn't deserve that, nadad," he chokes out with a sob. "You didn't deserve that and neither does he."

"Oh, nadadith," Fíli murmurs, reaching out to cup his cheek, thumb tracing over skin. The skin around Fíli's eyes is reddening just a bit, a telltale sign that he is fighting tears of his own. "Kee," he whispers as he presses their foreheads together.

"I have to help him," he whispers softly, hiccupping around a sob. "He doesn't deserve it…"

"Shh, Kíli," his brother murmurs as he brings a hand around to the back of his neck, squeezing gently to soothe him. "You can't...Kíli, look at me," he demands when his eyes sink down to the floor. "You can't make yourself responsible for this. You can't. You did everything you could. Everything."

"I could fight. I could go back out there and -"

"No," Fíli snaps. "No. Those men would catch you. They would kill you. They would…" Fíli blinks, causing a few tears to slip down his cheeks. "They would take you away from me. Please, nadadith; I can bear living without Mum and Da but not without you."

"Fee," he whispers, mindful of how badly his brother is trembling.

"Promise me," he demands. "Promise me you won't."

"I won't," he murmurs. "I won't, Fee; I promise."

Kíli sulks for three days straight. Dwalin had deemed it fit to punish them with the gathering and chopping of firewood to be distributed throughout the settlement in preparation of the coming winter. It was long and backbreaking work, but Fíli welcomed it. It helped him take his mind of off what had transpired, off of the little dwarfling who still rested and healed within the walls of the settlement. But for all the relaxation Fíli feels, Kíli only seems to smolder.

Fíli had made him apologize to Balin the day after, which his brother had done through gritted teeth. He'd not even been able to look their tutor in the eye, not for all of the anger he felt.

And Fíli understood, truly he did. Kíli had always loved too much and too deeply, had always cared far more about others than himself, and it continued to burn him that he had no choice but to sit quietly while he knew others suffered. But he knew it was for the best. If they had gone out on patrol and any of their patrolmen would have perished, Kíli would have blamed himself. If any of the rescued dwarrow didn't make it through the winter, Kíli would have blamed himself. While it was awful to see his brother suffering so, it really was for the best. Time would heal this hurt for his brother, and all would be well in the end.

It also helped that Thorin was due to return before the winter, and that would lighten his brother's heart considerably.

"Should we go a little farther out?" he asks, surveying the land in front of them. They usually only took wood from felled trees, in an effort to keep from scaring off the wildlife, and there weren't too many left this close to the settlement. Besides, the fresh air seems to be brightening his spirits significantly, and he was sure it wouldn't hurt to spend a little more time outside.

Kíli gives him a small smile - not nearly as bright as Fíli is used to, but it's a genuine one at least - and nods in agreement. "Might be able to snag some rabbits too," he adds, clearly in better spirits to be able to do something more useful. "But not too far out," he murmurs. "Mister Dwalin said. And I don't like that he's still cross with us."

It was true. Half of Kíli's sulking was probably due to Dwalin being angry with them. Kíli had always been a bit of a people-pleaser (not that he was any different himself), and he was sure it grated on his nerves for their weapons master to be so furious.

"Yea," Fíli agrees. "Who knows what new chore he'll think up for us to do."

That pulls another wane smile from his brother, and they head deeper into the forest in a comfortable silence, Kíli dragging the cart they'd brought to help carry the wood back to the settlement. The find a suitable tree relatively quickly, and set to work chopping it down into firewood.

They've been at it for a couple of hours when they hear it, causing both of them to snap up in alarm.

The warning bells are chiming in the settlement.

When he turns to his brother, his blood runs cold at the sight of a man, one of the men they'd seen with the slave caravan, looming behind him. He isn't even able to get a warning out when the man raises his arm and slams his elbow into the back of his brother's head, causing him to slump to the ground, unconscious.

"Kíli!" he screams, frantic as the man yanks his brother up by his arm, yanking the throwing knife from his vambrace and preparing to throw it, hesitating for just a second out of fear of hitting Kíli instead. He misses his chance, as another man, one who had snuck up on him, grabs him by the arm and throws him down to the ground, before jumping on him to pin him down. He fights back voraciously, kicking up to flip them back over. He raises his arm to go for the man's throat, but the man grabs at his arm, pushing his hand back and keeping him from attacking. With a snarl, Fíli drops the knife and wrenches his arm free, reaching back to grasp one of his swords instead as he springs back to his feet, straddling the man. With lethal accuracy, he drives his sword straight into the man's chest, relishing in the gurgle of blood that resounds when he yanks his sword free.

He turns back around to come to Kíli's aid, but he cannot see the man or his brother. "Kíli!" he screams, panicked. He has to find him, has to! He was the one who suggested they go farther out; he'd been so stupid, stupid! "Nadadith!"

He has to find their trail. The man was dragging him, there had to be a trail! He lets out a frustrated howl when he cannot find it, curses himself for not throwing his knife when he had the chance. He takes off running in the direction he thinks they must have gone, heedless of any danger. He has to find his brother; he has to.

This is his fault. It's all his fault.

The dull roar of hooves behind him puts him on full alert, and he pulls his other sword, ready to face his attackers. Relief crashes over him when he sees that it is the settlement patrol, led by Gloin and Dwalin. Dwalin drops off of his pony as soon as he's close enough to.

"The scouts saw the slave traders wandering too close to the wall," he explains, grabbing the back of Fíli's neck and squeezing gently. "Where is your brother?"

Fíli can't speak around the rough sob that escapes him. He hadn't realized he was crying before, but he's all too aware of it now. Dwalin presses their foreheads together.

"Breathe, lad," he urges. "Tell me what happened."

He takes in a shuddering breath. "They took him," he grinds out, voice hoarse. "The...two men snuck up on us and...and I killed one of them...but...but they...he knocked Kee out and took him away and I can't find him…"

Dwalin pulls away from him to give a curt nod to Gloin, and he's dimly aware of orders being barked all around him. "And you kill every last one of them and bring our prince home," Dwalin snaps, voice full of something he can't really identify. He hears the ponies take off once more, and then it's just him and Dwalin left behind. He becomes aware of his ragged, frantic breathing and the almost violent trembling in his limbs, and at Dwalin's gentle insistence, focuses on getting himself back under control.

"Come on, lad; breathe," his weapons master urges. "You've got to get a hold on yourself if you're going to help him, alright?"

Fíli nods, and after several long moments is able to calm himself substantially. "I'll kill them," he swears. "I'll kill every last one of them for touching my brother."

"Aye," Dwalin agrees. "Every last one of them."

He comes to all at once, drug back into consciousness with the stabbing pain in his head. With a sharp cry he lifts his hand up to check for a wound, and is alarmed to find his wrists shackled together. The last thing he remembered was gathering wood with his brother…

And the bells. He sits up sharply, the sudden movement causing the pain in his head to intensify violently.

"Shh, little one," someone murmurs nearby in Khuzdul, and a cool cloth is pressed against his forehead. "Don't move so quickly."

He tries to crack his eyes open, but it's too bright and he is forced the squeeze them closed once more. "Where are…"

"Khuzdul," the voice interrupts him sharply. "So they don't know what we are saying. Only speak in common if you must."

"Where are we?" he asks in the correct language, slowly blinking his eyes open in an attempt to adjust them to the light.

"Somewhere in the Blue Mountains," the voice answers - a dwarrowdam, he realizes. "I heard them speaking of taking us to a town called Fairfield to sell us."

He frowns, finally manages to open his eyes just a sliver, taking in the auburn haired dwarrowdam that sits near him, hands and feet shackled just as his are. Her hair and beard are messy and unbraided, and she looks tired and worn, though somehow familiar. "Sell us?" They are sitting on the ground, in a clearing outside of the forest. There are several wagons about, and at least a dozen men that he can see standing guard. He can see twenty or so dwarrow, chained at the wrists and ankles just like he is, all of them looking thin and frail.

She gives him a small, sympathetic smile. "They're slave traders, darling. They steal us from our homes and lock us away, slaughter our children, then sell us so we can wait on some men hand and foot…" Her words trail off into a variety of angry curses.

"We have to escape," he mutters, testing the movement of his hands before grasping at his boot to find his knife. He curses under his breath when he finds it's not there.

The dwarrowdam gives him another sympathetic smile. "They took all your effects, little one," she murmurs sadly. "No one escapes from here, not unless they die."

He shakes his head, groaning softly when it throbs viciously once more. "No, my brother will come for me…"

"He'd be one dwarf against nearly twenty men," she says. "It would be better if he didn't."

"No, there's…there's a settlement near here," he whispers, mindful of prying ears. "That's where I'm from. We have a patrol...and scouts...they sounded the alarm before I was taken...and they...they'll come for me," he murmurs, but suddenly, he wonders if they will. Him being captured doesn't mean that Balin's decision will change...they still wouldn't be able to care for all of the rescued dwarrow. A leaden stone settles down into his stomach as doubt fills him. They might not come...Fíli would fight for him, but they might not answer.

"Oh, sweetheart," she murmurs softly. "They won't be so hard on you. You're young and fair...you'll fetch a fine price as you are, so they won't treat you so badly."

He shakes his head, his throat constricting as he feels the tears coming as the reality of the situation comes crashing down on him. The dwarrowdam reaches her hands out and pats his thigh comfortingly.

"I shouldn't say such things," she murmurs softly. "Your people may come for you. I should not let you give up hope. My son...my son always held on to hope. And then they...they killed him. And in the days since I've found myself unable to hope for anything other than our reunion in Mandos."

At the mention of her son, Kíli's brow furrows. "Lobruk," he mumbles absently, suddenly realizing how she seemed familiar.

Her head snaps up and her eyes brighten just the tiniest bit. "How do you know his name?"

"I...my brother and I were on a hunt and this...man came and was dragging a dwarfling with him and they told him to kill it and I couldn't...we couldn't just sit there…" he whispers out in a rush, mindful of how one of the men has focused his attention on them with narrowed eyes.

"He's alive?" she gasps out, clearly not letting herself believe him just yet, not wanting to give in to hope just yet. When he nods, her eyes fill with tears. "How is he? Is he well?" A genuine, bright smile splits her face wide, relief and hope evident in her face.

He nods once more. "He misses you," he murmurs softly.

Unexpectedly, she throws her arms around him, looping her bound wrists over his head and pulls him close. "Thank you; thank you," she cries over and over.

"'Ey!" the man who'd been eying them shouts in the common tongue, before giving them both a swift kick in the sides that leaves them gasping for air as she pulls away. "Keep your mouths quiet and hands off!" He kicks Kíli a second time in the back for good measure before stalking back off to his post.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Just...thank you. Thank you for saving my boy."

Kíli only manages to nod as he pulls himself back up to a sitting position and catches his breath. They sit in silence from then on out, as the men nearby on watch keep a constant eye on them. As the sun starts to set, and the night chill blows in, Kíli pulls his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around them in an attempt to keep warm. Most of the men have abandoned their posts in favor of dinner and a warm fire when he hears the owls.

Twice a barn owl, once a brown owl.

His breath catches in his throat. It could just be a coincidence. He doesn't dare let himself hope…

Twice a barn owl, once a brown owl.

Relief floods him. Fíli. Its the signal they'd come up with as children, most often used late at night when they were both supposed to be sleeping and wanted to know if the other was awake, or while hunting to make sure that Kíli knew where his brother was before he dared take a shot. "They're coming," he whispers harshly, watching as the dwarrowdam's eyes widen.

Suddenly, dwarrow burst from the tree line, fearsome battle cries ringing out deafeningly around them. The men are clearly caught off guard, and most of them have to scramble for their weapons. He spies Dwalin and Gloin leading the charge, and between the pair of them they take down at least five men in a matter of seconds. There's chaos everywhere, and he makes an attempt to get to his feet, mindful of the chains that don't let him move too quickly.

One of the men rushes toward him, grabbing the dwarrowdam with one hand and reaching for him with another. He manages to dodge it, taking advantage of his small size and agility, but the man spits a curse at him and kicks out at his legs, sending him toppling down to the ground once more. With a snarl, he throws the dwarrowdam to the ground before drawing a knife from his belt and advancing upon him with a menacing snarl.

"Coming for you, are they?" he growls. "See how they like it when they find you dead."

Panic grips at him; he's going to die here.

Then a sword breaks through the man's chest and he coughs blood. Kíli barely has the time to scoot out of the way before he slumps forward, dead. Fíli stands behind him, and he sobs in relief.

His brother doesn't hesitate to free him of his bonds, using his sword to break the chains between his hands and feet, before handing the other sword to him. "Can you fight?" he asks, voice strong and face impassive, but Kíli can see the storm brewing in his eyes. He's clearly relieved at finding his brother, but they both still need to survive this.

He nods shakily, and takes Fíli's other sword. Quickly, he wraps a hand around the base of his skull and presses their foreheads together, the smallest bit of comfort they can spare with the looming battle.

The dwarrow make quick work of the remaining men, the element of surprise and their impressive numbers giving them the edge. Kíli and Fíli fight at each other's sides, watch each other's back through it all with a practiced ease and elegance. When the last of the slave traders is slain, Fíli lets his sword fall from numbed fingertips before he turns and grabs his brother, tangles one hand through his hair and wraps him in an impossibly tight embrace.

"I'm sorry," he gasps out with a sob. "I'm so sorry; I never should have let us go so far out."

Kíli just shakes his head and wraps his arms just as tight around his brother, even though he is trembling something awful and his hands shake too much to even gain purchase in his overcoat. "It's okay; I'm okay. It's fine."

"No!" Fíli snaps hoarsely, pulling back to press their foreheads together. "It's not. I could have lost you. I could have lost you…" He coughs around another sob and pulls him close again, murmuring more apologies. "I can't…can't lose you, nadadith."

Another pair of arms wrap around them both, and someone presses their head against his, but Kíli can't tell who it is through the thick curtain of his hair. "Are you hurt, laddie?" Dwalin asks gruffly, concern painting his voice.

He manages to shake his head. "Might be a little bruised," he whispers shakily, hands gripping at his brother again. "But m'fine," he assures them when Fíli chokes out another sob. Dwalin stays with them for a while, until the shaking in Kíli's hands has subsided and Fíli manages to stop the worst of his tears.

It is an even longer while until Fíli pulls away from his brother. "Where are you hurt?" he whispers finally, voice rough from crying, but he looks considerably calmer now.

"My head," he admits, frowning when his brother immediately prods at it. "And I...got kicked a few times," he says. "But I'm fine, Fee. I promise."

Fíli shakes his head. "This is my fault. I knew we shouldn't have gone so far out."

"You can't blame yourself for this, nadad," he says sternly, echoing his brother's own words from just days ago. "You can't. It's not your fault. It's not," he reiterates at his brother's self-depreciating groan. "It's those men who did this. They came here; they attacked us. And they've paid for it, nadad. There's no blame in this for you."

Fíli sighs. "I know," he murmurs. "I know it's not but I...you're my brother. I'm supposed to protect you. I'm supposed to keep you safe."

"You did, Fíli. You saved my life," he whispers. "I'd be dead if it weren't for you."

Fíli can only nod.

"I welcome you all to this settlement," Balin calls out into the town hall, filled with the dwarrow rescued from the slave traders. "And I wish to offer you asylum from your troubles. We will gladly house you in the Inn and provide you with food and drink for one week, to give you time to get your affairs in order and make arrangements for your futures. There are many in these halls that would benefit from your skills in your trades, and you may find employment here. You may wish to return to your original homes, and we will assist you in these arrangements, though you are welcome to take up a trade and reside here in this settlement." He gestures to Bofur, who begins discussing how they will provide rooms for their new guests.

Fíli and Kíli are standing in the back, pressed shoulder to shoulder. Kíli spies Lobruk, reunited with his mother, and feels a sense of pride well up within him, one that quickly melts into a familiar feeling of longing. With a sigh, he let's his head fall to his brother's shoulder, and Fíli wordlessly reaches a hand up to stroke his back comfortingly.

"Are you tired?" he asks softly, and Kíli nods. "We should get you home then. Mister Oin gave me some tea to help with your head."

"Mm," Kíli hums in agreement. They make it back to their home quickly, given the late hour. Fíli frowns hard at him when he pulls his tunic off to change into his sleeping clothes, eyeing the bruising on his side and back. He wrists are also chafed and bruised, but he makes a point not to complain and worry his brother any farther, even though the bruises sting.

Fíli disappears for a while, before returning with a mug of tea and wordlessly pressing it into his still shaking hands. He swiftly changes into his own sleeping clothes while Kíli downs the tea, returns to retrieve the mug and sets it down on the nightstand. He hesitates at his bedside, clearly reluctant to go to his own bed for the night. "Can I…?" he murmurs.

Kíli lifts the furs in invitation, and he shuffles in wordlessly, wrapping his arms tightly around him once more. They're both still trembling, and Fíli is sure that sleep will elude them both this night, but he needs the physical reassurance that his brother is still safe and well beside him.

The thought of losing him forever had struck him down to his core. It was such a bleak outlook, such an impossibility that he never wanted to see it come true.

He didn't want to live in a world where his brother was not.

"Have you sent word to Thorin?" Dwalin asks as they return home.

Balin wipes a tired hand down his face. "I'll need to draft some sort of missive to him. Probably send it with a scout, to keep it safe from prying eyes."

"I'll do it," he offers. "I know this has put a lot of strain on you, brother. You've done an admirable job of making arrangements for them. You should rest. There's plenty more to do in the morning."

Balin chuckles lightly. "Of that I am certain. Time will tell if this will be a mistake for our people or not," he admits. "Though you speak as though you're not exhausted yourself. You fought today, and I know...I know the thought of losing that boy unsettled you."

He sighs heavily. "I swore to Thorin I would protect him - both of them. And then I send them off to the forest to chop firewood as punishment and the lad gets abducted and nearly forced into slavery." He grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I fear Thorin may have put his faith in the wrong place."

Balin shakes his head and pats a hand warmly on his shoulder. "You got him back, nadadith," he reminds him. "You've kept him safe. Thorin's trust is exactly in the right place."

He reluctantly nods, but still appears deep in thought, a small frown tugging the corners of his mouth down. "Do you think...ah, never mind."

His brother raises an eyebrow, curious. "Do I think what?"

"It's just...the lads. Do you think they could be...that they might be soul bonded?" he asks, hesitant. Balin has always preferred fact and history to the myths and legends of their people, and he isn't quite sure how he will react, though he doubts he will take him seriously.

As he expects, his brother frowns. "That story is just a myth, dear brother. They're very close, yes, but I wouldn't go so far to say they were bonded."

"You're right," he agrees quickly, not wanting to extend the conversation farther. "Go on; off to bed with you. I'll draft the missive for Thorin." Balin nods and gives him a grateful smile before excusing himself to his bedroom.

He sits, attempting to write the missive for hours, but his thoughts continually drift to the lads. They're far closer than any pair of sibling he'd ever seen, closer even than Thorin and Frerin had been. The soul bonding myth took many forms, sometimes speaking only of a romantic love, but most often of a familial bond - siblings who were unnaturally close in age, or the ever-rare twins.

Fíli and Kíli were only five years apart. Conception was difficult for most dwarrowdams, and it often times took ten or more years to conceive a second child. He thought of the brother's Ri, and how they were all thirty years apart in age; a typical set of dwarrow brothers. But Fíli and Kíli…the lads had not only grown up together, but they had also been brought together by unnecessary hardships and trials.

But what struck him more was how they interacted with one another, the wordless glances that were perfectly understood, the reassuring touches, the deep, emotional connection they shared...it was unlike anything he had seen before. The look in Fíli's eyes when he feared that he had lost his brother forever haunted him. It was as though he'd lost everything; it was a look he'd only seen once before, in Thror's eyes as they fled the mountain long ago.

It was in the way Fíli's demeanor hardened when they came upon the men's camp, the way his gaze focused in on his brother and no one else. It was in the way they drew comfort from one another, how Fíli had held his brother tightly to him to assure that he was real and alive, when such a physical gesture was all but unheard of for dwarrow, much less one in public. It was in the way that they always looked out for each other instead of for themselves, in the way they fought side by side.

He and Thorin had spoken of it once, after they had taken Fíli to Bree to meet with Dain and Kíli had nearly been killed in the orc raid during their absence. It had been Thorin who believed it then, and he who had scoffed at him, but now he wasn't so sure.

If they lost Kíli, if he lived up to his duty as the spare, he wasn't sure that Fíli would survive.

And if he lost both of his boys, he knows, without a single doubt in his mind, Thorin would spiral out of control with his grief.

I hope you all enjoyed this one! I felt like it was a bit of a risk, but it popped into my head and I had to write it.