Thank you to my lovely reviewer! Here's the next chapter for you guys – we've done twelve days so far! I'm exhausted, but so far think it's worth it! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that you forgive any typos that I have made today.

Chapter Twelve: Weathertop

The first few days of riding passed in a blur of grey boredom. Gandalf was pushing his horse to as fast a pace as it could sustain, and though the wolves easily matched the pace, it was not a good speed for chatter. More often than not, their paths forced them to ride single file, for Gandalf was leading them through trails far from the main road. As direct a path as he could forge, that was what he was planning. It made sense, of course, and Kíli was happy to put as much distance as he could between his kin and the black riders.

But the wraiths did not haunt his mind constantly, and when the fear left him, the boredom swept in to take its place. Hours on wolf back, with no conversation, book, or song to speed the way was not Kíli's idea of a good time. He quickly grew weary of his own thoughts, and of repeating the same stories and songs over and over in his mind.

Even the wolves seemed bored. Luno and Koda, who was bearing Bilbo, kept their noses on pointed ahead, but their nephews, Sokka and Sitka, kept looking into the woodland, and every so often, Fíli and Dís had to nudge them back on course. That provided a little entertainment.

But the entertainment lasted only moments. And of course, being left to his own mind also meant that there was nothing to stop Kíli remembering the look on Frodo's face as they rode away. He had never seen his brother so stricken, never seen betrayal etch so deep onto his young face. At least, he had never seen it directed at him before. It had felt like a punch in the chest, and the ache still grew when he thought of it.

He had wanted to wake Frodo, to say farewell. It was not fair to leave him without a word – if Kíli had been forced to stay behind, he would at least want to say goodbye. Fíli had backed his argument, but, for once, they did not win over their parents. Dís and Bilbo seemed to think it would be easier for everyone involved, to save the parting, and the fighting.

"Especially when he will see him so soon," Dís had said.

Kíli disagreed so strongly with this that he had been tempted to 'fall over' Frodo on his way to the door. But when Gandalf said to let Frodo sleep, Kíli had listened. Begrudgingly, guiltily, he had obeyed. And seen Frodo stare at him as if he had torn the world apart.

Kíli sighed heavily. He hoped that Frodo would understand. He was a smart lad – he would understand why they had done it. Or at least that Fíli and Kíli had no choice in the matter.

Disquiet began to infect Kíli's boredom as they left the shelter of the woods, and entered the sparse land of the Weather Hills. He would feel better if the hills were steeper, or offered more cover, but for the most part, they were rather flat. Towards the north, they grew a little taller, but they were not travelling that way. They were heading for Weathertop – the only hill that deserved the title, according to Bofur.

"The rest of them are just little mole hills," he would say on the rare occasions they passed the landmark, sparking a debate between the ex-inhabitants of the hilly Shire, and the dwarves of the high mountains over what, exactly, constituted a hill.

But there was no Bofur today, as the ruined fortress came into view. No Bofur, no debate, no laughter.

No words.

It was a strategic spot to camp. A watch tower, once upon a time. Dusk was closing around them fast, and they had no safer place to make camp. From the hill, they could see for miles around, and hide behind the crumbling walls. But the closer they drew to Weathertop, the more Kíli wanted to turn around.

Almost without thinking, he drew his hand back through Luno's fur. Immediately, the wolf slowed, trying to turn his head to look at Kíli.

"What is it?" Fíli asked tightly, drawing up alongside him. "Do you see something?"

Kíli shook his head, and forced a smile. He was sure that it was more of a wince. "Nothing. I see nothing. But you know how it is. You start to think of camp…"

Understanding dawned in Fíli's eyes and he sighed, nodding slowly. "Aye." Neither needed to finish Kíli's sentence. Then, Fíli smiled softly. "Don't be scared, nadadith. I've got your back."

Despite himself, Kíli smiled back. "I know. The same goes for you, nadad."

Fíli nodded, and reached over to pat Kíli's arm. "I know. Now, come. We're getting left behind. They will worry."

Kíli glanced ahead. Already, his parents and Gandalf were nearing the archway into the old fortress. He gave a nod, and dug in his heels, but Luno was already speeding up. Sokka gave an excited little howl, and Kíli heard Fíli curse as the younger wolf burst into a run. Kíli laughed, though he also took a moment to thank the Valar that their wolves were able to understand what 'quiet' meant. Sokka had been no louder than a dreaming puppy.

With a slight growl, Luno put on speed, refusing to let Sokka overtake, but Fíli's wolf was the among the fastest they had, and they quickly drew neck and neck.

Fíli and Kíli exchanged grins, and leant down almost in unison, each gently urging their wolf on. The archway drew closer, too narrow for two to ride abrest, but neither wolf would give.

Finally, only a metre away, Fíli cursed again and drew his hands back, but Sokka leapt through the air towards the archway. Kíli and Luno lurched out of the way, avoiding a crash at the last second, as Sokka skidded through the arch and wagged his tale. His nose was up in the air, in a clear 'look how good I've been' posture that looked hilarious beneath Fíli's disgruntled frown.

"You slow down when I tell you to," he chided, but Kíli doubted the reprimand's effectiveness while Fíli was still ruffling the wolf's ears. "You'll get us hurt, you silly pup."

Sokka licked his own nose, and Fíli sighed.

Chuckling, Kíli entered the watchtower. But his joy was short-lived. The ruins drained it from him, drop by drop, as he followed Gandalf to a little alcove by the top of the tower.

"This is one of the only rooms that is fully intact," the wizard said, sighing heavily as he sat down. "I think we may risk a fire here, if we ensure it does not smoke."

"Wonderful," breathed Dís, easing herself onto the ground. Kíli noted that she looked as though she would fall asleep on the spot – there were dark rings beneath her eyes, and she rested her head in his hands. Bilbo looked little better, though he had enough sense left to begin building the fire.

"We'll take the first watch," said Fíli gently. "Come on, Kíli. Let's sit outside, where we can see."

Kíli nodded, following Fíli out onto the balcony by the alcove. They sat atop a broken chunk of wall, hidden enough by their dark clothes against the rocks, though Fíli covered his hair with his cloak. Luno padded out after them, though the other wolves stayed inside, waiting for their turn to be fed.

For his part, Fíli felt no better than his brother. He was ravenously hungry, having had his breakfast and half his lunch pilfered by his thieving wolf. One of these days, Fíli was sure that he would learn his lesson and blindfold Sokka while he ate, to spare himself from throwing his food at those large, sorrowful eyes.

Moreover, he missed his family, and he worried about them. Four days on the road, and they had seen not a trace of the riders. Did that mean they were following the others? That they had found them? Without Gandalf, how much change would Aragorn have protecting the group?

"I do not like this place," Kíli muttered mutinously, pulling Fíli from his thoughts. "It feels dark. Haunted."

"Well, it's not the Prancing Pony, that's for sure," Fíli sighed, looking out of the horizon. Darkness was descending rapidly, and he did not doubt that it would be a dark night indeed.

Kíli paused. "I keep seeing Frodo's face… The way he looked at us."

Fíli winced. "He'll be alright, Kíli. He's a strong lad, stronger than Amad gives him credit for, I think. They baby him."

"I think he should have come with us."

"Now that we disagree on," said Fíli sharply, staring at Kíli. "You want another soul to be at the risk we are?"

"No," Kíli replied, his frown deepening stubbornly. "But Fee, he's of age, and he is a part of this family. He should have had the right to choose. And we shouldn't have left like that."

Fíli sighed. "I know that. I did not want to either. You're arguing with yourself, Kíli."

"But what if something happens? What if something happens to, what if something happens to any of you, and-"

"Calm down," Fíli said firmly. "Kíli, it's alright. Nothing will happen to me. Or Bilbo, or Amad, or Gandalf, and certainly not to you. We're going to be fine."

It was Kíli's turn to sigh. "I hope so. It feels like there are ghosts here," he murmured, his dark eyes drifting over the ruins around them. "It was the watchtower of Amon Sûl. I bet it has loads of ghosts."

"Why d'you think that?"

Kíli shrugged. "There was a battle, wasn't there? A Witch-King, I think it was, launched an attack on the Dúnedain who tried to defend it. They could not. It has been in ruins ever since. Bilbo told us on the way past three years ago. You must remember?"

But Fíli's mind was not on a past holiday to the Shire. A shiver had run down his spine, and he scanned the ground beneath them as best he could in the gathering gloom. "Did Gandalf not say that the leader of the Ringwraiths was known as a Witch-King?"

A light dawned in Kíli's eyes, and he looked to his brother fearfully. "Yes," he whispered, "yes, I think that he did. I don't like the foreshadowing of that."

Fíli put his hand on Kíli's arm. "It is long in the past, is it not? Life is not a story, Kíli, do not give yourself the worry of 'foreshadowing.' It is an old world, and there are bound to be histories wherever you tread."

Kíli pulled a face. "But it does mean that he knows how to attack this fortress. Perhaps it would've been better to keep going…"

"No," Fíli said firmly. The Valar knew they needed their sleep. "The wolves could not go much further, nor could Gandalf's horse. We are pushing them close to their limits, I fear. It would not do to push our luck further."

"I suppose you're right." Kíli pursed his lips, and looked away.

An easterly wind ruffled their hair, and Fíli glanced over to the hidden side alcove. He wondered if Bilbo was cooking, or if he had fallen asleep before he could strike a match. As minutes slowly ticked by, he thought that the latter was more likely. He dug in his pocket for some jerky and a loaf of cram, and split them both with his brother, while Kíli threw the wolves several strips of preserved meat each. It was not much, but they did not need much. Like hobbits and dwarves, the wolves could go without when they had to. With any luck, they would get a chance to hunt over the next few days.

By the time their meagre dinner was gone, the darkness was almost complete. Fíli gazed up at the sky, but the stars were shrouded with cloud. The veiled moon let out only enough light for Fíli to make out his surroundings. An hour passed, and he could hear no sounds, save Bilbo's soft snoring, his mother's heavy breathing and Kíli fidgeting beside him. Occasionally, one of the wolves would let out a whine in their sleep, and Luno, whose head was cradled in Kíli's lap, would made a funny little howling noise now and again. Now, though, it was almost silent.

"I am afraid," said Kíli suddenly, and Fíli turned to look at him. His heart sank at the tears glistening in his brother's eyes. "I am afraid, nadad. If Gandalf is afraid…"

"I am scared too," Fíli admitted. "But, we are making great progress, and we must hold onto hope. We have yet far to go, and a journey is always easier with a light heart."

Kíli snorted, and rolled his eyes. "Since when have you been the poet, Fíli?"

"Well, I was much more poetic than you before you went and got yourself raised by the most poetic hobbit to have ever lived," said Fíli, grinning as he coaxed Kíli back out of despair. "You hated reading and poetry before then."

"I had such bad taste," Kíli pretended to wince, and Fíli laughed softly.

"You know," he murmured, "this takes me back. Just the two of us on watch, while the rest of the world is asleep…"

"The start of the quest…" Kíli remembered with a smile of his own, "before we knew each other again. Though it didn't take long, did it?"

"Of course not." Fíli wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulder, holding him tightly. "It couldn't've. Not with you and I."

"Aw, Fíli the sentimental," Kíli teased, as he shuffled to better rest his head against Fíli's. "You're right, though."

"I'm always right."

"How about the time-"

Fíli rolled his eyes. "Almost always."

Kíli smirked. "Alright then."

They sat in silence for a while, until Fíli's thoughts pressed so heavily on his mind that he had to divulge them. "I forget, sometimes, how it felt. To find you again, but for me to mean so little to you. How it felt for my brother to be a stranger. I forget those early days, when things were awkward and uncomfortable, when we did not know where we stood."

"Me too," Kíli said quietly. "I look back, and it feels like I always knew you, even when I had no memory. I know that was not the case, but it feels impossible that I could have ever looked at you as a stranger. But that's what you were. You were a stranger, who was much like me. The family resemblance is uncanny."

Fíli let out a huff of laughter and held his brother a little closer. "You know, I wouldn't change it. All that pain, those years of grieving... I would not change it now. The family just would not be complete without Bilbo and the others."

"I wonder if we would've met him anyway," Kíli mused, his eyebrows furrowed. "Gandalf chose him as the burglar before knowing I was with him, perhaps we would have met him in any case. I wonder what would've happened…"

"That is an interesting thought," Fíli admitted. "But I wouldn't risk any of what we have now."

"Oh, me neither," Kíli shook his head vehemently, but then paused. "Except, perhaps, this part here, where we are chased by monsters and afraid for our lives. This part I would not miss at all."

Fíli laughed softly again. "No, nor would I."

"I love you, Fee."

He smiled. "I love you too, Kíli."

A comfortable silence fell between them, and Fíli absently rubbed circles into his brother's shoulder. The old wounds had healed now, and looking at the scars could now be done without sending him into a relapse of panic or sorrow. It had taken years to get to this point – after returning to Erebor, Fíli had tried to discuss about the years without Kíli with his mother, and had been plagued by nightmares for three weeks straight. Dís, of course, had sent him straight to the Mind Healers, and after a few years of what Kíli dubbed 'mind mending' Fíli was in a much more stable place.

Especially since Kíli had not left his side for more than half a day in the last two decades. That helped considerably.

A stronger breeze sent a shiver down Fíli's spine, and he frowned. Something felt off. Beside him, Kíli yawned, and Fíli narrowed his eyes, scouring the land beneath them. There was scarce enough moonlight to make out the mist clinging to the ground at the bottom of the hill, but it was enough to see five tall, cloaked figures floating through the darkness.

A cold fist seemed to clench around Fíli's heart, and the arm that was around Kíli's shoulder's tightened. "Get up!" he hissed.

"What?" Kíli frowned, and peered down. Then his face drained of all colour, and his hand flew to his belt. Fíli put a finger on his lips, and Kíli nodded, swallowing hard. They stood up noiselessly, and Luno bristled. Then, upon seeing the creatures below, the wolf let out a small whine and backed away to the wall, his ears pressed against his head.

"Go, go!" Fíli all but pushed Kíli into the guard room.

"Wake up!" his brother whispered frantically, shaking Bilbo's arm, and then Dís'. "Wake up, they've found us, we have to go! Gandalf-"

The wizard struggled to his feet, his face pale, and nodded. "All of you, up to the top of the tower."

"But-" Kíli glanced at Fíli. "Gandalf, we have to go, we have to run!"

"There is no running now," Gandalf shook his head, leaning heavily on his staff. "They will run us down; our steeds are too weary. We must defend ourselves. Now, all of you, up to the top of the tower."

Dís nodded and led the way. The wolves followed them all up, but for the first time in Fíli's memory, they looked half ready to bolt. Their ears were pressed flat against their heads, and their tales were between their legs and the whites of their eyes were visible in the darkness. Gandalf's horse remained behind, tethered in the side-room, its hooves tapping loudly on the stone floor as it let out shrieks of terror.

When they reached the top of the tower, Fíli's heart sank. They could see all around, but they could not defend themselves from all angles, not like this. The wolves kept close, and Sokka bumped against Fíli's leg.

"We are more exposed here," Dís insisted as Gandalf raised his staff. "This is not a strategic-"

But Dís' words died on her lips, and Fíli's heart beat faster than any wolf could run. Five wraiths, one in every direction, were approaching. Leisurely, as if they had all the time in the world.

"Get back!" Gandalf roared, banging his staff down on the stone and sending out a white light that burst in every direction. "Go back to the shadows from whence you came!"

With a shriek that seemed to pierce Fíli's heart, the creatures attacked all at once, each one of them charging at Bilbo. Roaring in anger, Kíli swung his sword at the wraith nearest to him, and the clang of metal on metal rang through the air. Dís and Gandalf engaged a rider each, while Fíli lurched at the wraith closest to Bilbo. The hobbit looked as though he was about to be sick, but he took a defensive stance against the last wraith nevertheless.

A jet of flames shot from Gandalf's staff, and one of the wraiths tipped over the edge of the mountain with another screech.

Time, Fíli thought, ducking the swing of the wraith's sword and countering with his own two blades. They did not even seem to tear the creature's clothes. We just need to give Gandalf time.

His family's battle cries rang in his ears, and out of the corner of his eye he saw more flames. Then he heard the distinctive crash of metal on stone, and his mother scream.

"Bilbo!"

Throwing a sword into his opponent's hood, Fíli whirled around and his heart dropped into his stomach. Sting lay two feet away from Bilbo, who had been knocked onto the floor. There was a wraith bearing down upon him, sword in hand and –

Fíli was sent crashing to the floor with a cry of pain. The wraith he had turned his back on had struck him, but once again the mithril shirt had saved his life. But he turned his back again, because the wraith above Bilbo raised its sword to strike.

Desperate, Fíli began to crawl, three feet, two feet, one foot-

The sword was falling.

Fíli flung himself forward and landed on top of Bilbo.

The sword came down.

Fíli turned over, glaring at the attacker and striking up with his own sword-

Too late.

The tip of the Nazgûl's sword came down and pierced Fíli's skin just below his collar bone.

Just before the top of his shiny shirt.

And then it went deeper, and light began to dance in front of Fíli's eyes. A scream wrenched from his throat, but he was cut off by a pain he had never felt before. Choking on air, Fíli felt the blade be wrenched from his body, but the pain only got worse. Burning, searing, he could smell his own blood pooling beneath his neck, but already he could see nothing but blurs.

Suddenly there were arms around him and he was dragged upwards into someone's lap. He tried to draw breath, but it did not feel like it reached his lungs. His fear grew into terror and he gasped, fingers clutching at the air that would not help him.

"Fíli!" a voice, Bilbo's voice, cried, and there was a hand brushing hair from his face. "Oh Fíli, what have you done? What have you done?"

"Fíli!" Kíli was screaming, and Fíli tried to find him, but lolling his head made the pain so much worse and Bilbo held him in place and he could not see. Was his brother hurt? Was he still fighting? Did he need help? Why was Bilbo not helping Kíli? He could smell burning, and his eyes stung as if there were smoke or heat in the air, but he could not see. He could not see anything but stars. What if Kíli was burning?

"K-K-K-" Fíli coughed, but still it did not feel like he was breathing – why couldn't he breathe? – and he could not get past the first letter of his brother's name.

"Kíli's fine," Bilbo's voice sobbed. "You hold on, Fíli, you hold on now. Good boy, you brave, brave boy, just hold on, Gandalf's coming! Gandalf!"

Then he felt a hand take his, and his mother's voice murmured to him. "Stay with us, dushtêl, you stay with Amad. Amad's here, everything is going to be fine. You're going to be alright, Fíli, you're going to be alright."

The sounds were getting fainter, and Fíli felt his useless eyelids flutter.

"No!" Kíli, that was Kíli's voice, and a hand seized the one his mother did not hold, so tight that it hurt. "No, no, Fee, don't you dare. Gandalf! Fíli you stay awake, dammit! Fíli!"

Terror flooded every one of Fíli's veins as his eyes dragged themselves closed. He tried to cling to his mother's hand, to cling to consciousness but he was being pulled, pulled by the darkness and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He could hear Kíli screaming.

"Stop it, Fíli, stop it, wake up, wake up now!"

I'm trying, he thought, more frightened than he had ever been in his life. I'm trying, Kíli, don't leave me, Kíli, please…

I don't want to die.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It feels a bit more whole now, to me, so do let me know if you agree, or disagree, or have any other comments in general. Until next time, thank you, and take care.