Hi! SUPER long chapter for ya! Life's been crazy, sorry about the wait. But I think you guys are going to like this one.

Also, I'll be adding a key to the next chapter to decipher the poem's description of GF symptoms in case it was hard to follow. And potentially a name reference list in case that too is getting confusing.

Happy reading!


4

Blood and Fireworks

"Come on lads, get those rocks out of there. We don't have all day!"

Kíli wiped the sweat from his brow and glared up at the whiskery whip holder—Daren—who was sitting on the rock pile drinking. His hands were sore and tired—not to mention the raw marks from the shackles—but there was still rubble piled as high as his head standing in the way of the wagons. On either side of them, archers had arrows knocked and pointed lazily in their direction.

"We've been workin' for hours," the village boy, Aaron, groaned. His left hand was bleeding lightly as he rolled another stone from the pile and over the side of the path.

"And you'll be working for hours unless you hurry it up."

Millí and Ori had been silent for the entirety of their work, but Kíli could see on their faces that they weren't fairing as well as they should. The rocks were heavy and Ori was never known to be strong. Millí was trying her best to cover for him, but the wound on her head was slowing her down. Aaron complained the most vocally, but also did the most work. He eyed the whip in Daren's hands warily the entire time.

"Kíli," Ori whispered as they came close, "what are we going to do?"

"I'm not your mother Ori," the prince hissed back, "figure it out for yourself. You're supposed to be the smart one anyway, isn't that why you don't have a single muscle in your arms? All books and scrolls, no training?"

Ori looked stricken and Kíli just rolled his eyes and moved on. He was angry at everyone and even angrier at himself for being so cruel. He couldn't help it, the venomous words spewed from his mouth before he could stop them. Like they were waiting for an opportunity to escape.

He scooped up a larger boulder and dropped it over the edge, all the while watching Millí struggle to loosen one small enough for her to carry. She bit her lip in frustration and pushed off the other rocks in hope that the extra leverage would pull it free, but it didn't work.

"Come on, weakling. It's not that hard," Daren taunted. He cracked the whip in the air just above her head for effect. She sucked in a deep breath and tried again, to no avail. Kíli wanted to wipe that smug look right off of Daren's face more than he wanted anything else.

"Here," he grunted, tearing the rock free. As soon as it came loose, the weight of the stones shifted and the stack crumbled, sending Daren to the ground. The captives backed up and held back smirks as the man stumbled to his feet and rubbed his tailbone.

"You little runt," he snarled, suddenly grabbing the collar of Kíli's tunic, "You did that on purpose."

"You wanted us to move the rocks. I did."

Daren smirked and drew dangerously close. "I'm going to wipe that smirk right off your face, boy."

"I'd like to see you try."

Kíli fought as three men grabbed him by the arms and dragged him to a tall thin stone by the edge of the mountain wall. They tore his shirt off and forced him against it, binding his wrists to the other side. The stone and leather necklace, the one that his father had given him before his untimely death, now ground uncomfortably against his chest. And as soon as the knots were secure, he yanked and pulled against the ropes with all his might, but it only succeeded in biting them further into his skin. The rock was too tall for him to pull his arms over and too rooted to budge. The young dwarf growled in frustration as the struggle seemed to more and more hopeless, but kept a defiant sneer on his face that he shot in Daren's direction.

"Leave him alone!" Ori cried from some point that Kíli couldn't see. There was the noise of feet and scuffling and fists hitting bone. It sounded like the other prisoners were struggling against their captors with all their might.

"Stop it you fools," Kíli hissed at them all, "you'll accomplish nothing but getting yourselves killed. Think with your heads for once."

Millí's response was to use her head to head-butt the man in front of her. But three prisoners were no match for the sheer number of people available in the camp and they were quickly restrained while Kíli remained stuck to the rock. Daren cracked his whip in the air and everyone fell silent.

"Your friend will pay for your mistake," he told them, no doubt pointing to Kíli. "And you will learn quickly how things are done around here."

Amongst the toxic streams of anger and hypersensitivity the dark-haired dwarf was experiencing, a new emotion began to emerge.

Dread.

"Let us go you foul, putrid little—"

Kíli's voice cut out with the sound of the whip snapped across his back. The sting of it quickly followed with a ferocity that he did not expect. He ground his teeth together so as not to cry out and shut his eyes against the second lash that cracked across his back. The third cut across the preexisting wounds, adding to the bite of it. Rage boiled inside him intensified by every iota of pain he felt, which at that moment was a significant amount.

At the fourth crack of the whip, the darkest and most forbidden of curses began to pour from his mouth at those who held them captive. The words were in his people's language so the men could not understand them, but one didn't have to to feel the rancor behind them. Though Kíli couldn't see their faces, both Ori and Millí were thoroughly shocked and sickened by the foul speech spewing from Kíli's lips. It was the kind of words dark enough to potentially get a dwarf forbidden from Mansions of Mahal. They seemed to turn the sky darker and the blood colder. Ancient words, evil words.

Words Kíli was more than happy to use.

The fifth lash stretched its claw over the old bite wound on his shoulder, which momentarily silenced the dwarf.

"Wait, wait, wait," came a voice, just as Daren raised the whip again. Kíli recognized it as Demetrius, the jolly merchant he had once been fond of. "We need that boy in tip top shape," Demetrius continued, closer now, "The scouts are meeting us in a fortnight and they will want to see some strong specimens."

"Dem, if you heard the kind of attitude that little shit has been giving me…"

"Oh I have no doubt about that," the leader's voice chuckled, "But for now, we really need to sell. If they see him all beat up on the first viewing, he won't sell at all."

Daren seemed to mull it over a moment and reached peace. "Very well," he said, "I understand." There was the sound of movement and a small popping noise. "Well, don't want him to get infected either then."

Something cold and wet poured down Kíli's back in rivets, setting the whip marks on absolute fire. He clenched his jaw so tightly it threatened to break as his wounds screamed in protest. "There," Daren said with a patronizing tone, "All clean."

Kíli felt like he was going mad with the pain and fury he felt inside. His breath caught in his throat and he barely noticed himself being untied from the stone. When he was free, he did not rise from his knees. It was too much, simply too much for him to handle. He'd never felt so miserable so strongly.

Someone forced him to his feet, tugged his shirt over his head, and pushed him at the pile of stones again. He stumbled and fell, just managing to catch himself before hitting the ground. His back blazed with the movement, but he straightened up with his dignity in tact. He a deep breath he picked up the stone in front of him and threw it over the edge, barely missing Daren and Demetrius.

"Watch it, boy!" the whip holder snarled. Demetrius smiled at Kíli and stepped towards him while adjusting the gold belt around his belly.

"Kíli my boy," he cooed, "don't go making this worse for yourself, hm? We don't want o have to hurt you, but if you act like a devil we're going to have to."

Kíli spit at him and smiled as it hit the man in the eye. "We helped you," Kíli hissed, "We helped you get to the village and this is how you repay us? By enslaving us? What kind of man does such a thing?"

Demetrius chuckled and pated Kíli's shoulder, "A rich one, lad. A rich one."

Kíli tore his shoulder away from his touch and scowled. "Don't touch me with your filthy hands. You're no better than an orc. No, you're worse. Far worse."

"Ah ah ah," Demetrius tutted, waggling a finger at him, "Show some respect boy, you're property now and you're going to have to learn to act like it."

On cue, someone behind him slammed something hard against his back, hard enough that he could feel it in his ribs. He gasped and spun around to find his attacker holding a large wooden plank with holes drilled through it. The stocky woman raised struck him again over the shoulder and again to his side.

"That'll be enough, Gretchen," Demetrius said with a gentle hand held up.

"I'm avoidin' his face," she complained. The leader tightened his lips at her and she dropped the paddle, shooting a dangerous glare at Kíli, who was trying not to let his eyes tear up against the stinging in his skin.

Demetrius' hand clutched Kíli's jaw and turned his face to look at him.

"Listen to me boy," he said in a dangerous, yet almost kind voice, "Cooperate. Your friends are not as strong as you are and will not be that much of a loss if we have to send a message." His head nodded towards the archers who had not let the tension fall from their bows. Kíli studied the arrowheads a moment as they gleamed in the sun before turning his eyes back to Demetrius. Suddenly a question rose to the surface that he didn't even know was there.

"Where's my brother?" he asked tightly. His voice lacked the venom that he'd grown accustom to. It just sounded tired.

Demetrius studied him a moment before releasing his jaw and patting his cheek. "Best forget your brother, young dwarf." Before Kíli could ask what exactly that meant, the rotund man walked away and Kíli was forced back to the work on the road.

What did he mean?

Fíli, he can't be dead.

He didn't say he was dead, he just said forget him…

Horrifying thoughts stuck in Kíli's mind as he stared at the rocks in front of him. Millí, Ori, and Aaron joined him in silence, finishing up the work one stone at a time. Kíli's body shook and his hands felt weak as the sun dragged its way through the sky. Beads of sweat rolled down his head as he tried to shut out his pain. His hunger. His thirst.

Someone came by with water for the workers. Aaron accepted it greedily and clutched the ladle so that the woman wouldn't take it away before he had had his fill. When it came time for Ori to drink, the dwarf looked with concern to Kíli who had taken the reprieve to rest his arms and legs. He felt dizzy with thirst and heat and exhaustion and pain. Ori then shook his head and pushed the ladle away from him, but Millí smacked him hard on the arm. Kíli couldn't make out the words of their exchange, but in the end Millí won and Ori drank the water with a guilty look plastered to his face the entire time. She accepted her drink without hesitation and then cupped her hands and held them out.

"A little more please," she said firmly. The woman looked at her with a raised eyebrow and Millí thrust her hands closer. "To splash me face, it's hot out here after all."

The woman pursed her lips and then dipped the ladle in the bucket and poured a conservative amount into Millí's hands. "Thanks," she said curtly. Then, without any attempt to be subtle, she walked straight to Kíli and knelt in front of him.

"Open your mouth," she demanded. "Before this all goes drippin' from my fingers."

Kíli looked up at her and his eyes narrowed. She didn't look happy to be helping him, but the water did look appealing even when contained in a pair of dirty hands. So Kíli allowed her to pour it into his mouth and tried not to groan at how meager the amount was. It was barely enough to wet his mouth, much less coat his throat. She wiped her wet hands against his forehead and neck in an attempt to cool him down and frowned, drawing her hands away slowly.

"Thanks," he mumbled, refusing to look at her. He knew he should be angry at her for getting more water than him. That would be consistent with the way he's been feeling for the past week, but something was different.

His rage, much to his confusion, seemed to be slipping from him. He didn't want it to; it kept him strong. It kept him bold. But now the ire that had been his constant companion for the past week felt like ice in his hands.

Millí grunted in reply and walked away, waving off the glare of the water woman.

Kíli closed his eyes and rested his head against the stone behind him. Sleep was the only comfort he could accept that this point. But just as the inviting darkness began to take him in, a shadow passed in front of the setting sun and kicked his feet.

"Get up," Daren demanded, "Time to get this mess done."


"I don't understand," Fíli groaned, kicking at a chair in frustration. "Where could he have gone?!"

"It's not been a full day Fíli, if he went out to hunt he could be gone for days and none of us would be the wiser," Thorin reasoned. Gloin and his wife Guinn were smoking their pipes with grim faces while Dwalin stood by the door with his massive arms crossed over his chest.

"Something doesn't feel right," Fíli insisted, looking pleadingly to the others in the room. Nori and Bifur came into the room carrying large mugs of ale that they passed out to the company. Millí's family, a collection of gold-haired dwarves with intricately styled and beaded beards, sat and drank quietly. Fíli and Thorin both declined the drink. "Uncle, you can't tell me you don't feel it too. We haven't been able to find Gimli or Millí or Ori either, and if they four of them went out together, don't you think they would have told someone?"

"Gimli and Millí said they were going out for a hunt just last night," Guinn said calmly, "We're not concerned for them, they promised to not go far. They're expected back by nightfall."

"No doubt Ori went with them," Nori added, "He's not often far from Millí."

Balin, who always soothed Fíli at times like this, gently added, "Kíli could have followed them, lad."

"He wouldn't have gone without telling me," Fíli retorted, though he did not feel it was completely true.

"Not if he has the fever like you say," Oin added, "He probably wouldn't even think of it."

Thorin sighed and rubbed his temple. "They're young…" Fíli opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by his uncle's raised hand, "But collectively, not stupid. If Kíli has followed your friends on the hunt and falls ill, they will return him. If they have not returned for the festival's opening ceremony tomorrow, we will go out and search the outskirts of the town. Otherwise, I think we need not worry on it. Kíli's a strong lad; he will not stay gone for long. Have some faith in him."

Thorin patted his nephew's shoulder and left the room without another word. Fíli hung his head and stayed only a moment longer before heading for the door. He was stopped by a hand to the shoulder.

"Bombur used t'panic when Bofur would disappear," Bifur said in a low voice, "But he always turned up jus'the same."

Fíli nodded and then made his way outside. The sun was nearly set and the village bustled with last minute preparations for the festival. He watched as a large cart of fireworks was wheeled by him and into the square. The colorful wagons he had escorted had sold their bounty to the party-planners and had already cleared out of the streets entirely. Their organization really did serve them well.

Brent's clan of boring wagons still littered the squares with their produce and clothes. Fíli made his way by them and winced at the unintelligible yelling coming from the groups of people running the wagons. They were clearly upset about something and he didn't care to find out.

He had his own problems.

After checking Kíli's room for the fifth time, he sighed and sat on his brother's bed. His rucksack was still in the corner with his few belongings strewn across the floor. The quiver was gone and the bow, and his shoes. By all accounts and measures it looked like Kíli had gone out shooting and didn't plan to be out long.

So then where are you?

Fíli was soon called off to help prepare the square for the following day's festivities. He tried to focus on the work instead of his brother, but the nagging feeling in his chest never left. Even as the moon set over the village and Fíli was instructed to go to sleep, a million thoughts circled his head like a swarm of bees.


The stones were clear just as the sun said its last about the day. Millí and Ori's hands were bleeding lightly and Aaron was as stoic as ever. Kíli had long been silent and was on his knees in the dirt with is head hanging loosely on his neck.

"Give him some water," Daren grumbled at one of the guards, "If he dies now there would've been no point in sparing him in the first place."

Kíli felt a hand pull his hair so that his head fell back and water hit his face, choking him and going up his nose. He coughed and sputtered in surprise, blinking the water from his eyes. When he had his breath back, he was forced to drink again, but this attempt he was ready for and guzzled as much water as he could. Then they left him to his solitude.

The reason Kíli was on his knees was because he had recently discovered standing was exceptionally difficult. While they were working, bright colors had blurred his vision and the world felt like it was tipping. He nearly collapsed, but covered it by lowering himself down to work on the lower layer of fallen stones. And that's where he stayed, even as the others walked about to get bread and drink.

"Come on," their old friend Rod shouted, "Back to the wagon with ye."

Millí, Ori, and Aaron were lined up with arrows pointed at their backs. They spotted Kíli still on his knees and picked him up by the hair. "Are ye deaf?" the man asked, "I said, time ta go."

He thrust Kíli forward who stumbled and reeled until he nearly fell to the ground again. He could barely tell which way was up, but he closed his eyes against the dizziness and pain and moved forward until he reached his companions. He was wedged between Aaron and Ori and together they made their way back to the wagon. Kíli kept his eyes closed and his head drooped, but their footsteps guided him where he needed to go. The advantage of being a hunter and an archer, he could function pretty well without his eyes open.

Soon they were pulled back into the purple prison and pushed pass their friends who were shouting their names in relief and worry. Kíli fell clumsily into his spot and couldn't fight the yelp of pain as his back his the bars.

"Kíli, what's the matter?" Bofur's voice called out to him. Whoever was charged with Kíli chained his hands up again and left, kicking the foot of one of the prisoners who swore at him as he passed.

"Kíli? Lad?"

Kíli whimpered in response and shook his head against the way the ground pitched underneath him, like a rocking ship. He was a dwarf, he hated water.

When did they get on a ship, anyway?

"Are we…" Kíli began, his words slightly slurred, "Are we on a boat now? When did—when d'we ge'on a ship?"

"Yer not makin' much sense, boy," Bofur answered, concern in his eyes. It was too dark to make out anyone's appearances, but Kíli felt sure everyone was looking at him.

But why?

Kíli let his head flop back against the bars and groaned. "E'rything is spinning. Are we spinning?"

Bofur chewed his lip and turned his face towards the dark mass he knew was Millí. "What did they do to the lad? He's completely nonsensical."

She shook her head with a frown. "They whipped him but…I don't know. He's dehydrated I think."

The wagon stayed relatively silent for some time with a few brief whispers to make sure everyone was okay. Gimli had found a way to slip out his gag, so he could talk freely with Millí and Ori. Kíli listened to them for a while as he tried to shut out the feeling that he was being turned upside down.

What is wrong with me?

He thought back to the way he'd been acting for the past week and winced, realizing how monstrous he'd been. Sleep was creeping its claws over his dazed mind, but he managed to stay awake just long enough to speak.

"Millí," he groaned, "Ori, Gimli, and Bofur. I've been horrible." He took a deep breath and tried to push the weakness from his voice. "Please forgive me. I don't know why I acted that way."

I cursed my uncle. I cursed my brother.

How could I?

A few of the villagers who were imprisoned with them exchanged glances, but in the darkness they went completely missed by the dwarves.

"Just go to sleep Kíli," Bofur said in response. "It's in the past."

Kíli wanted to say more, but he couldn't fight the darkness anymore. So he stopped fighting and fell into its blissful emptiness.


The festival was, in a word, sensational.

Fíli was so distracted by the dancers and music and colors that he nearly forgot his missing friends and his sick brother. People flooded the streets and flowers were thrown into the air. It was a phenomenal display, especially when the new king or mayor or whatever he was—Fíli did not know—paraded his way through the streets on a decorated horse. The people cheered and hollered and threw their petals in a burst of color. When they reached the square, the dancers blew fire into the air and twirled knives like they were made of feathers.

The day stretched on and the intensity didn't drop.

The crown Thorin had forged himself was placed on the man's head and then the feast began. The ale was limitless and free to take, so Fíli soon found himself quite inebriated. Girls of the village giggled and batted their eyes at him as he stumbled past and he found himself quite intrigued.

"You don't look like any dwarf I've seen," one of the girls, Yune, remarked. "You're so handsome."

Fíli raised his eyebrows and swayed a little on point. "You think so, do you?"

She giggled and touched his braid. "Yes of course."

He grinned widely at her and noted how cute her ginger ringlets looked when she laughed. He looked across the drunk, dancing crowd to see Brent looking dangerously angry about something. He narrowed his eye and was about to go see what was bothering the man so much, when Yune's hand turned his face back to her.

"I have an idea," she said with a glint of light in her eye.

Well, consider me intrigued.

"Oh?" he used his best smolder, "and what would that be?"

"Well," she ran her finger down his forearm and then circled the rim of the pint with it, "This ale is good…" She looked up and smiled brightly so that Fíli felt he couldn't breath, "But I know where they've stashed some that's much better."

Fíli felt his grin widen as the girl took his hand and dragged him through the crowd. Sure, her legs were longer, but what he lacked in height he made up for in enthusiasm.

They broke free of the crowd and stumbled through the streets, laughing heartily as they tumbled into walls and into each other. A fire dancer cartwheeled down the street with a lit torch in his mouth, making them pause and giggle in awe. Then she gripped his hand tighter and dragged him down an alleyway.

Fíli tried to keep his footing so that he wouldn't fall and embarrass himself in front of his new friend. His fingers brushed against the sides of houses he didn't recognize and his feet sloshed through puddles on the cobblestone. Yune's hair looked like fire.

Pretty fire.

They came to a clearing and began to run through it.

"It's right up here," she told him in a fluttery voice, "not far."

He smiled at her as they staggered forward, but something made him stop. Yune nearly fell over when she lost Fíli's grip and turned to see him staring at the old whipping post in the middle of the circle.

"From the Second Age, I b'lieve," she said as-a-matter-of-drunken-factly. "Some real nice history there. Lotsa people flogged n'stuff. " She grabbed the yellow dwarf's hand and tugged it impatiently, "Now c'mon!"

But Fíli wouldn't budge. His eyes were locked on the arrows protruding out of the post.

"Someone's shot it," he said in a flat voice. Yune pouted her lips and frowned at the post.

"What a shame," she said, "Maybe someone's great great uncle got beat there once." She laughed and tugged on his arm again, but he ignored her and instead started moving towards the post. Even in his drunken stupor, a few steps brought the clarity he needed; he'd know those arrows anywhere.

Kíli.

He ran to the post now and touched his finger to the arrow. The first was split entirely down the middle by the second in expert precision. "You always were annoyingly good at archery," Fíli remarked with a smirk. Yune crossed her arms and stomped her foot.

"I don't understand what's so interestin' about one damned arrow," she complained, "There is ale to be had, right in that cellar!" She gestured wildly at the dimly lit tavern just ahead. "Right there! Not three steps away! Do y'think ye can make it or not?"

Fíli didn't hear her. His eyes started examining the circle around them for any signs of his brother. He found none and sighed heavily.

"It's my brother's arrow," he told the now quite annoyed girl, "He's been missing since yesterday's night."

Yune dropped her arms and interest sparked in her eyes. "A mystery, eh?" she intrigued, "And we've got a clue? That's exciting."

Fíli sulked back to her and scanned the surrounding houses once again. "I don't know how we'd ever find him."

"Wait here," she said, "I'll go get some hot spiced wine and we can go for a manhunt. Sound like fun?"

Fíli grinned at her, the sobering effect of the arrow starting to wear off against the influence of alcohol and a pretty girl. "Yes, thank you."

She smiled brightly and started to walk to the tavern. Fíli looked back to the post and shook his head.

What did you do, brother?

"Uh…Fíli?"

The dwarf turned to see Yune frozen in her tracks with her back to him. She seemed to be starting at her feet for some reason.

"What is it?" he questioned, walking quickly to her side. He looked down and his face blanched immediately.

Blood.

It was dried to the cobblestone, but there was no mistaking it. There wasn't a lot, but enough. Any was too much, really. Fíli knelt down and ran his fingers over the stone. They soon found small black feathers stuck to the blood and into the cracks of the cobble. Raven feathers, to be exact.

The feathers Kíli used for his arrows.

"Something's not right," Fíli said in a shaky voice, "Something's happened."

There was no trail to follow and no further clues. Just the blood, the arrows, and the feathers.

"I'm sorry," he said hurriedly as Yune looked back to him with a bewildered expression, "I have to go. I have to go find my uncle."

And with that he was off, running as fast as he possibly could. He ran straight into the noise of the crowd, calling for his uncle. For anyone.

"Thorin! THORIN! Nori! Balin! Anybody!"

A rough hand grabbed him and he turned to find Dwalin towering over him. "Where's the fire, laddie?"

Fíli didn't realize he was panting so much until he tried to speak. "Blood," he gasped, desperate to make him understand. "Kíli's arrows. Something…something horrible's…happened. I…need to…find Thorin."

Dwalin gave him a grave nod and dragged him through the crowd until they reached the inn where Thorin was bunked. They tore through the door only to find Thorin already in the tavern area with a frantic group of dwarves around him.

"He's s'posed to be helpin' me sell the toys," Bifur urged, "But he's gone. He's been gone all day yesterdee as well."

"Gimli and Millí haven't returned either."

"Or Ori!"

"There's no way they'd all miss the festival!"

Thorin's eyes were wide as he tried to take in the teams of voices shouting in his direction. He turned to see Fíli and Dwalin approaching, but there was no relief there. Not when he read their expressions.

"Kíli?" he asked, a gleam of worry coming over him more prominently than before.

"I found his arrows in a post not far from here," Fíli explained, fighting the tightness in his throat, "There was blood tried to the cobblestone with his…with pieces of his arrows dried to it. He's gone, Uncle."

"Whoever got Kíli must've gotten to the others," Guinn growled, "They've got them all."

"Who would do such a thing, it just doesn't make sense!" Nori cried out.

"Where is he?!" another voice rose above the others. "WHERE'S THE DWARF PRINCE?"

The crowd parted as the towering Brent made his way through them, his face red with fury. "You," he pointed a large finger at Fíli, "I need you."

"I beg your pardon?" Thorin's noble voice snarled.

"My daughter's been taken by those sniveling slave rats, and I don't intend to let them get away with it. I need this one to show me through the mountain pass, I don't know the way."

Fíli blinked in shock as the room fell silent.

"Slave rats?" Balin repeated in his gentle voice. Brent looked at him and his hard expression fell away ever so slightly.

"Those merchants that travelled with us here," he elaborated, "A bunch of rotten slavers, they are. Sell their cargo on the Greyflood River. It's how they afford all those flouncy silks."

"You allowed us to help slavers through the Blue Mountains without telling any of us!?" Fíli shouted, feeling hot blood flood to his cheeks.

"They swore they had no one with them," Brent barked back, "We went through their wagons, we didn't find a soul. In case you haven't forgotten Master dwarf, we were not associated with any of it, my family and I. It's none of our business to tell you who you can and cannot take through the mountains and it is not my responsibility to do a background check on your travelling companions. But they have my daughter, and I will see her returned."

"How do you know?" Balin asked calmly.

Brent seemed to be eager now that they hadn't rejected him. "She's been gone for nearly two days now, every since the wagons went out. We sent her to stay with a friend for a night and she never returned. We thought we'd wait it out and see if she just made off somewhere, but she's gone. We found her shoe at the edge of the village trampled into the mud with their wagon wheels. I followed the tracks up as far as I could, but the paths split and the ground was dry and stoney, there's no sign of them in any which direction." His eyes filled with uncharacteristic desperation as he examined the room, "I can't go after them myself."

"I believe," Thorin began in a slow and careful voice, "That the men who took your daughter have some of our own as well." There was a rumble of noise behind him as the dwarves muttered in agreement. "We will help you."

Thorin's words seemed to set off a spark as the room began to move about. "Prepare a party of your own people, and we will prepare ours. Be ready to depart by sunrise."

Brent nodded and took off and Thorin turned to Fíli.

"We're going to get him back," he assured him, "Have courage."

Fíli nodded and looked about the room as the dwarves began to decide who would be joining the search party. "What should I do?"

"Get some Mallos, first thing," Thorin said gravely, dropping some coins into his hand. "Then pack your things. And your weapons. Get us both a pony and meet me at the kitchens in two hours time to pack provisions."

Fíli nodded curtly and Thorin was off into the thick of the crowd. Fíli ran into the streets just in time to see the first of the night's fireworks light up the sky. Its loud crack resounded through the air in a mighty brilliance. But the fiery color held no joy for him now.

I'm coming for you Kíli. His feet carried him as fast as he could through the streets and past the lights and music and laughter that once intrigued him.

I promise.


Alright, hope you liked it and a thanks to the previous reviewers!

Sorry about any typos/grammar errors :/ No time for proofing!

Comments = Ego cookies.

Ego cookies = Production motivation.

:D

Indulge me. Bake my ego cookies.

Or don't.

Gonna write either way.

Til next time!