On we go. I hope you enoy this chapter, and I promise the sad times will stop eventually! Thanks very much to Filisgirl251, animexchick, DawnScarlet19610, MissRuthless, MissCallaLilly and Erikawaskiki for your lovely reviews on the last one. You guys make my day every time with your thoughts on these characters and their journey!


*** 5 years after the battle ***

It was a quiet morning. The sun had barely risen yet and the mountain was still asleep, though it would not take long until the hustle and bustle of the day would start. People would rise from their beds, have their breakfast and go out to work, in the mines, in the market, in the kitchens, and wherever else they spent their days.

His own day had started several hours earlier already. He had gotten out of bed when it had still been dark, as he usually did. He never slept soundly, anyway, so he liked to get started with his day as early as possible. He had grabbed his swords of their stands by the wall and had made his way out of his chambers and through the dark hallways, which were illuminated by torches. He had stopped by the kitchens and grabbed a small bread roll, which he had eaten on his way down to the training ground. He liked to go there when no one else was around, knowing that the guards usually began their training not long after dawn and he did not fancy seeing anyone.

He had spent over an hour, swinging his swords at a target made of wood and hay, then practicing his balance, training his strength and his technique. It was something he had always done, something that brought him a sense of steadiness and calm. He was on his way back to his chambers shortly before the first light of the sun broke across the sky. Once back in his rooms, he changed out of his training clothes and washed, before he got into the fine robes, which he wore every day now. Dark blue, the colour of Durin's clan.

It had already been two hours since he'd woken up, when he sat down for breakfast with his mother. He did not say much, he never did during these times, though they did this every morning. But he was happy to listen to her, while he answered all her questions and made sure that they held a small conversation before he left her for the day.

Then, he attended his first meeting of the day. He was the first in the room, already sat down at the head of the table when his advisor entered. Balin took the space to his right, after which the one to his left was soon filled, when Dwalin entered the chamber, still chewing on a piece of bacon. The rest of his council followed soon after, filing into the room one by one and taking their seats. He listened as they talked, paid attention to what they discussed, considered the arguments they put to him for the issues they presented. He spoke little and listened a lot, only raising his voice when he found it strictly necessary.

Three hours later, he was sat in the throne hall, listening to other people. Every week he held hearings for the people of the mountain, who came to him with problems and requests they had, hoping for his guidance and his help. With him at these meetings were always Balin and another advisor, Lord Thrakur, who was known to the people as the stricter of the two. Of course, the king knew of these rumours and thought that perhaps there was some truth to them, though he had always found the combination of these two councils invaluable.

It was already late afternoon when he came to his last meeting, though it wasn't really a meeting at all. These were hours that he spent alone in his working chambers, reading, writing and answering letters, documents and notes. He never rushed through any of it and always stamped his seal into the wax of every letter with care, enjoying the fact that during this time he did not have to talk or listen to anyone.

Later, after he had sent out the letters that needed to be sent with the use of several ravens, he made his way down into the depths of the mountain. It was late by then, and he had skipped lunch as well as dinner, making a mental note to himself that he would have to grab something from the kitchens again on his way back. But this was a trip that he made every night, making his way down the familiar path, along dark hallways and down steep sets of stairs until he came upon the archway that led to the tombs. He entered quietly and spent part of his evening with his little brother and his uncle, whom he still talked to, though only when he was sure that no one was around to hear him. Nobody ever was at this late hour.

When he returned to his chambers, he sometimes imagined a voice welcoming him home, though tonight he heard nothing. A fire had already been lit in the fireplace and he let himself slump into the armchair next to it, a quiet sigh escaping him as he stared into the flames for a few moments. Then he bent down and took off his boots, letting them drop to the floor carelessly before he leaned back into the chair. He had forgotten to bring some food from the kitchens, he realised, though he didn't think it mattered.

He sat motionlessly for a little while before he picked up the book that lay face down on the little table beside the chair, where he had left it the night before. He read a few pages until his eyes began to burn with the effort of keeping them open. He put the book back in its spot then and got up, discarding his clothes and letting them drop down onto the floor without a care. He pulled on the loose, soft trousers he usually wore to bed, picking them up from where one of the maids had left them neatly folded.

Once he was in bed, he turned onto his side, so his bare back was turned to the fireplace. He always left it burning during the night, letting the flames go out by themselves, knowing that the chamber got uncomfortably cold otherwise.

He lay down his head on the pillow, letting out a small sigh as he closed his eyes. Sometimes, as he lay like this, he imagined someone telling him goodnight, perhaps the same voice that he'd imagine welcoming him home, though he could only rarely conjure it.

He knew that he would not get a full night of undisturbed sleep, though he was used to it by now. He was already looking forward to being able to wake up again.


The day had begun as usual. He'd gone to train, then had breakfast with his mother and had attended his first meeting. After that, however, he had gone down to the stables and saddled his pony, a calm grey steed that he had grown fond of over the years, and had ridden out. He hadn't told anyone where he was going, knowing that Balin would probably guess, anyway. The old dwarf knew his routine as well as he himself did.

Now he sat with his back against the tree in the midday sun, staring out into the open land before him with a hard expression on his face. The trees on this part of the lands were still young, having been planted and grown after the battle. Fili had buried the seed of this particular tree himself, which was why he kept coming back to it every few months. He always sat in the very same spot, knowing the familiar feeling of his heavy heart and his sorrowful thoughts.

This was the spot. This was where he had found his little brother dead five years ago. This was where he had found the druid watching over his body.

Fili wasn't entirely sure why he always kept coming back to it. After all, he visited his brother's grave every evening in the tombs in the mountain. To outsiders it might seem as though there was no need for him to ride up to Raven Hill every few months to sit in the very spot where he had died, perhaps it even seemed strange that he would seek out the very place where he had lost almost everything that had ever mattered to him. But to Fili the time he spent here was something almost precious. He was the only one that ever came here and he felt oddly at peace when he did. It was as though he felt closer to Kili here than he did when he was standing beside his tomb. As though his brother's spirit still lingered here. Or perhaps he only imagined it.

He could sit there for hours, not doing anything. Sometimes he brought a dagger to sharpen, which he had done today, and other times he just sat with his eyes closed, breathing in the air.

Today he was sharpening his dagger, while his grey pony was grazing a few feet away. Fili took his time, carefully handling the blade until it was as sharp as on the day he had gotten it. The sky was beginning to glow red with the beginning sunset at that point, and Fili finally stood slowly, taking one last deep breath of air as he sheathed the dagger underneath his coat. He stood for a moment, looking out into the distance toward Erebor with a small sigh, before he walked over to his pony.

The steed seemed slightly nervous for some reason, though the dwarf could not tell why, for there lay a peaceful silence over the plain. He looked around cautiously, knowing that one could never be too careful, but there was nothing to fear here, not anymore. Still, the animal was restless, neighing quietly and scratching its hooves against the ground, ripping out a few patches of grass. Fili didn't pay it much heed as he grabbed the pony's reins, shushing it quietly and patting its neck to calm it slightly, when he suddenly saw something on the ground that caught his eye. Out of the corner of his eye, he had seen something glimmer faintly in the grass.

The pony neighed again as the dwarf bent down slowly, looking at the patch of earth that the pony had loosened. There was something stuck in the damp ground there and Fili looked at it curiously, before he took out his knife and loosened the earth further with the tip of the blade. His movements were slow and his face set with a frown as he sheathed the dagger, before he dug his fingertips into the dirt and pulled at the small silver thing he had uncovered.

He felt his heart stop for a moment as he freed the object from the earth, staring at the silver necklace that was now dangling from his dirty fingers. The dwarf's legs buckled slightly as he took a shuddering breath and he fell forward onto his knees, his free hand coming up to touch the small charm that hung from the chain.

It was a leaf.

Fili felt sudden tears fill his eyes as his thumb smoothed over the knotted strand of silver, tarnished and dull after all these years. He carefully brushed some of the dirt away from it. The dwarf's breath came in short, trembling bursts as he beheld the necklace in utter disbelief. His thoughts were whirling in his head, when sudden flashes of the object appeared in his memory, dangling from the druid's neck. And then flashes of her. And then flashes of them.

Fili's fist closed tightly around the dirty necklace as he bent over, feeling a sudden physical pain at the flood of unwanted memories invading his mind, an involuntary, guttural cry leaving his throat and echoing over the hill, as tears began to fall down his face. For the first time in over five years, he had completely lost control over his emotions, and was now sobbing into the grass beneath him, the silver leaf digging into his palm.

It was a long time before his anguish finally began to ebb down slightly and he pushed himself back into an upright position, wiping at his eyes, angrily trying to get rid of the wet tracks on his face. He looked at the druid's necklace again, his fingers trembling as he opened his fist. He wanted to throw it away, to hurl it as far away from himself as possible, to throw it into the River Running and let it be carried away, so he never had to see it again. So that he never had to feel again the way he felt now. He had not felt so desolate, so hollow, since the day of the battle before the mountain. He had not felt the druid's absence as much even on the day that she had left him, but now the wound in his heart had opened up again with a sudden force, and it felt as though it was going to rip his very insides apart.

In the end, Fili couldn't bring himself to throw the necklace away, or to let go of it at all, as much as he felt he wanted to. Instead, his thumb ran over the tarnished silver once more, before he clenched his teeth together and slipped the necklace into the pocket of his coat.

It took him another long while before he finally got back to his feet. He wiped the remaining tears from his eyes and the dirt from his clothes, and took a few last deep breaths, before he mounted his pony and began his slow way back to the mountain.