13

Keeping Vigil

"No! Fíli!"

Thorin felt like he'd been punched in the chest. One moment he was there and then the next…

Thorin bolted to the side of the cliff where he'd last seen Fíli standing. He peered desperately over the side, begging for his nephew to be clinging to a branch or something else incredible, but there was nothing except a long drop clouded by a dense white fog. Thorin let out a choked gasp and resisted the urge to fall to his knees. Someone was beside him and he turned to find Dwalin also looking over the side.

"I…Thorin, I should've been watching him."

He didn't blame Dwalin. Of course. But he couldn't find any proper words through his grief. First Kíli, always one step out of reach. And now this.

He took a moment, just one moment, to feel the icy chill of worry and grief before bundling it up into a ball and forcing it deep down into the depths of his consciousness. "Get a rope and two pick axes," Thorin ordered, "I'm going to look for him."

"I'll go for the lad," Dwalin answered, "You should stay with the company."

"He's my sister's son."

"And so is Kíli." The mention of his youngest kin sent a shiver through Thorin that he had been withholding. "He's been captive for far too long. Those bastards are sending every trick they know to put us off the trail, and when we do find them, you need to be there." Dwalin pulled his bag off of one of the ponies they had kept hidden during the battle and reached for his supplies. The rope and axes were out when a passerby bluntly took them from Dwalin's hands.

Era didn't speak nor look at the king or his cousin. There was a task that needed doing, so she would see it done. Before the men had a chance to protest, she had the rope tied around her waist and over her shoulders into a harness and was securing the loose end to a rock.

"I'm lightest," she said curtly when the company began gathering around, "Can't have the rope snapping when we find the lad."

The solemn group didn't dare argue, but bid their companion good luck and placed a firm hand on the rope to provide security that the rock could not. Thorin took his position right at the edge, close enough that his own mortality whispered at him with every feint breeze that coursed over him. But until he saw Fíli with his own eyes, he would not be moved.

Era disappeared into the mist and they were left with only her tugging on the rope as a sign that she was all right. Brent and his brothers deemed there was not enough room for them to help with the rope and began retrieving weapons and supplies that the merchants had stolen or abandoned.

No one said a word, but after an hour of Era's search everyone's hands were starting to burn. Thorin's eyes stung from lack of blinking and his heart felt like a stone. It shouldn't be taking so long. She should have found him by now.

The rope had no slack left, which meant that Era, wherever she was, had gone down as far as she possibly could. It slid left, it slid right, and still the world below didn't yield any results. Thorin silenced the voice in his head reminding him that if Fíli had fallen as far as Era was, there was no way he was alive.

And then a blonde head breached the surface of the mist. Thorin's heart jumped and he forgot all about the soreness in his hands.

"They're coming, pull them up!"

Thorin could no longer see over the edge, so he trusted his arms to bring the precious cargo back to him. Several eager sets of hands launched into action and before long, the blonde head breached the edge of the cliff. But Thorin's stomach dropped when the blonde head belonged only to Era, and Fíli was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm…sorry…Thorin," she panted, "I couldn't…find him…anywhere."

"I'll go myself then," he responded forcefully. He was untangling Era from her rope harness despite her protests.

"I looked on every possible ledge in the area where he fell," she tried to tell him, "Wherever he is, he's too far down to reach."

"Then I won't take the rope."

"Thorin—"

"Enough!"

Era fell silent at the king's outburst, the rope falling slack in her bleeding hands. Thorin knew there was probably guilt to be felt, but he didn't feel it. He took the rest of the rope from her and added it to the loop on his shoulder. "You understand," Thorin said finally. Era nodded curtly, her cheeks still flushed with exertion.

"I wouldn't fail you if there was an alternative," she said in annoyance, "I understand why you want to look, but I was thorough. And I'm sorry." She cast the pick axes at his feet and stormed away with a straight back and clenched fists. Tears at the loss of a young friend were already springing to her eyes, and she didn't care for anyone to see them.

"I'll drop the rope down and when it runs out, I'll go beyond it. When I find him I'll pull three times."

Thorin wasn't going to hear any arguments and he was turned from his friends before they had the chance. He had his leg over the cliff when a voice broke through the uncomfortable silence. "Perhaps that won't be entirely necessary."


Fíli groaned the moment he became aware that he was alive. Adventures, he was deciding, were unpleasant. A shame too, because he was so sure that he was going to like them. After all, the Durin's had a long and glorious history of such things.

But adventures, it seemed, didn't like him.

Not at all.

He allowed himself to keep his eyes closed while he assessed his injuries. His head hurt horribly and his entire right side felt bruised if not broken. But he was lying on his back, and he couldn't detect any pain there.

Mahal…I've been paralyzed.

His eyes flew open and he was instantly met with the towering cliff to his right. He fell from…somewhere up there. The ledge wasn't even visible from where he was. How could he be alive right now?

Mercy he had a headache.

Also, one of his boots was missing and he could tell because his toes were cold. Which meant he wasn't paralyzed.

Lucky me.

But how was he to get back up to his uncle? To Kíli? He looked to his left and allowed his vision a moment to stop swimming before realizing how small of a ledge he was on. His hand had been flopped next to him with two of his fingers extending over the side.

What do I do now?

The first thing he attempted was sitting up. His ribs and hip protested loudly, but he gritted his teeth and subsequently decided to ignore them. He had endured worse conditions, despite less lethal cause. One example was a time that Kíli spooked his horse when they were in their late twenties and Fíli actually broke his neck and bruised his spine. He was on house arrest for months before being allowed to be active again, and Kíli would still maintain Fíli's ponies to this day out of guilt.

But despite his injuries being somewhat manageable, Fíli could still see no way out of his predicament. Too high up to climb without a rope, especially since the cliff lacked ample grips and going down served no purpose. Maybe someone would find him?

"Oi! A little help down here?!" Biting back a groan of pain, he listened as his voice echoed off the mountains and soon faded into nothing. The wind was howling ominously, no doubt muffling him. He tried again. And again. And one more time for luck.

He should've known better than to hope for luck.

He began exploring his small ledge, hoping to find something he could use as a rope or pick axe. When his eyes met something he didn't expect.

"Well, fancy our luck," Lia smirked, both her and her fireheaded brother staring at him from a deep crevice in the mountainside. It was obscured by jagged blue stone, so his eyes had missed it. "We thought we heard something out here."

"Wha—"

"The trolls attacked and we escaped through a cave," Tristan explained, "It led us out here. I…I'm having a hard time processing this. It's just too coincidental." Tristan swung himself out of the crevice with reckless ease. "Did you fall?"

"No," Fíli made no effort to hide the distain in his voice, "It seemed like an opportune place to take a nap."

Tristan smirked and extended his leg until his foot landed on Fíli's ledge, putting himself in such a compromising position that even the dwarf shivered in discomfort for the man. One little breeze and he could fall into nothingness, and Tristan seemed completely undaunted.

"You look awful," he told Fíli, giving him a smile.

"Well I feel great," he responded with a scowl of his own.

Tristan laughed, an action that caused his body to shutter and even his sister drew a sharp breath of fright for him. "Well come on then," he said eventually, "Take my hand and I'll swing you over."

"What?"

"All of our cargo is gone," he said, "We have no where to go. If we help you back to your friends perhaps they'll grant us peace."

Fíli scoffed at that, "My uncle isn't known for his aptitude towards peace."

"I caught that," the boy responded, "But he seemed rather fond of you. So come on."

The dwarf tried not to think about how far he would fall if Tristan's hands were even the least bit sweaty. He didn't have a lot of other options so he closed his eyes a moment and put his hand into the merchant's, silencing a yelp as he felt his body leave solid ground. A second later and he collided with Lia and tumbled into the stony path of the cave.

"Dwarves are heavier than they look," Tristan noted, swinging himself into the cave and rubbing his shoulder. Fíli was still on the ground, trying to keep his eyes from tearing up from the pain in his side. He wasn't crying after all, it was just making his eyes water. Completely different thing entirely.

"Can you walk?" they asked him eventually. Fíli gritted his teeth and nodded, using the wall as a support on his painful journey to his feet. There was a long scrape on his leg—from what he could assess with his trousers still on—and it was sticking painfully to the fabric. Was he drunk? As the adrenaline started to leave him, the sleepiness he felt before his fall began to set back in. Vaguely he remembered the sleeping powder clouding the air of the wagon wreck.

But he could manage. He had to manage. There was not a chance in the world that he would allow Tristan to carry him.

"It's a straight shot from here to the cave entrance," Lia said, "But it's going to be a steep incline."

Brilliant.


We had a deal.

Millí's eyes snapped open as icy water filled her lungs instead of air. Flailing desperately, her feet found purchase against some sort of surface and her head breached the surface of the water that had somehow come to surround her. She barely had time to pull in another ragged, desperate breath before she lost all sense of direction under the current once more.

Sheer stubbornness allowed her flailing limbs to find something—perhaps a root—to grip onto. The current hit her like a wall and her hand nearly relinquished its hold on the lifeline, but she refused, utterly refused to drown. Not that quickly, anyway. Millí resisted the water with all her strength and forced her head above the surface again.

Mahal.

All she wanted was to breath, but her lungs felt it was necessary to rid themselves of all water before that could happen. Deliriously she wondered if she'd break her ribs before she got a chance to inhale again, when suddenly her body allowed her to pull in breath. Air was never so sweet as it was in that moment.

What. Happened.

She strengthened her hold on the root before allowing herself enough of a reprieve to think. They had been running…Bofur hurt his leg…Gimli—

Gimli.

Kíli had pushed Gimli in the water, before he pushed her.

We had a deal.

All her memories came flooding back in one painful wave, causing her hands to slip before she could register what was happening.

"No!"

The river was merciless as it thrust her over boulders and under currents alike. Every breath was impossibly brief and painfully waterlogged. But even in her panic for her life, despair began seeping into her subconscious. Bofur and Kíli would probably be executed. Gimli had probably drowned by now.

Her head broke free of the water once more and air filled her abused lungs. It was then that she saw the faint glow of orange hair amongst the angry white water.

"GIM—" Millí's shout was cut off by a mouthful of water. Gimli's body was splayed over a rock not far down the river from her. If she could just aim herself correctly…

Her body hit his so had it knocked the water and remaining air from her lungs. Choking and gasping, she used her immobile friend as a support to help her stay on the surface.

Once she had breathed enough to clear her head, she finally began to comprehend the sight in front of her. Gimli's lips were blue and his face was white as a sheet. He wasn't moving and his features were slack. For all intents and purposes, he looked dead. And frozen.

Warm, salty liquid oozed into her mouth and she sputtered, suddenly aware of a copious amount of blood seeping down her face and into her mouth. Her nose was bleeding.

When did I hit my nose?

It didn't matter; she needed to get Gimli to breathe. The water pressed against her back and one false move to either side would send her sailing past the boulder that had supported her and Gimli so far. Mustering up as much of her basic medical training she could, Millí drove her fists over Gimli's chest over and over again.

"Breath, you idiot," she pleaded, continuing to drum on her friend's lifeless chest. Clumsily trying not to dislodge them from the rock, Millí lurched forward and pressed her lips to his, forcing air into uncooperative lungs. "Come on!"

She drove her fists into Gimli's sternum again and this time was rewarded as the ginger dwarf was violently brought back to life. He coughed and spluttered and wheezed until air found him. But unfortunately, he also flailed. Millí yelped as both dwarves were torn from the rock and thrust back into the rapids. This time she managed to keep afloat as she shouted instructions to Gimli for him to hold his breath and let the current drag him. They soon lost contact, however, when the river sloped and Millí could no longer tell if she was in rapids or a waterfall. Her body glanced off rocks that were too slippery to hold onto and the water constantly forced her under. Distantly she heard the roar or what could possibly be a massive waterfall and the end of her life, but she couldn't resist the water anymore. She was too exhausted. She closed her eyes and accepted the folds of the water when a hand grabbed the neck of her shirt and yanked her out of her reverie.

"Oh, no y'don't."

Somehow she was on land, and instantly fell to all fours as she coughed up half the river. As soon as she could breath, she collapsed onto her back and let out the scream of frustration she'd been withholding through the entire ordeal. Blood flowed into the back of her throat and sent her coughing again, her rescuer forcing her into sitting position with her head bent forward so the blood could flow from her nose uninhibited.

"You have to stay like this," Gimli said, releasing her head. "At least until the bleeding stops."

Weakly she nodded, silently succumbing to tears as all the adrenaline left her body. She'd killed people. Two soldiers, innocently following orders with likely no knowledge of her plight. People with families and loved ones who would be mourning their loss tonight at the first knock on the door.

"Where are Kíli and Bofur?" Gimli asked eventually, somberly slouching against a tree to rest.

"Kíli was shot with an arrow right before he pushed us in," she said shakily, "Bofur…I don't think he made it out either. I didn't see him."

"So…they're still captured?"

"I think so."

Gimli paused a moment. "We have to go back."

Millí shook her head, wincing as dizziness made her eyes swim with colors. "I made a promise with Kíli that whoever got out would go get help. And that's what we're going to do. We go alone and chances are we'll just end up getting everyone killed."

If they aren't already.

"Alright," Gimli said softly, pulling Millí into his chest. "We'll get help."

She didn't want to be coddled. She wanted to leave immediately, but the weight of the sleeping powder and the river ordeal was pulling her under faster than she could fight.

"We'll…go as soon as the sun is up," she murmured, unsure if the words even left her mouth.

"When the sun is up," Gimli agreed with a yawn. Neither of them fought anymore as the dark took them completely.


Thorin gaped as two ginger merchants frog marched his nephew out of seemingly nowhere. Fíli's head lolled loosely on his shoulders and his feet seemed to barely contribute to the movement of the group. But he was alive.

"Fíli!"

Before the merchants could open their mouths, blades found their throats from the darkness behind them. "Don't you move a muscle," Brent growled into Tristan's ear.

"You either, lassie," Avery agreed. The pair froze, knowing not to challenge fate so many times in one day. Thorin pried Fíli none so gently from their arms and dragged him back like a stolen good. The boy's blond head fell into the crook of Thorin's neck and his feet struggled to find purchase underneath him.

"Unc…el…"

"Quiet," Thorin admonished. His eyes never left the pair of merchants, despite his nephew's grisly appearance. He struggled a moment, desperate to stand up on his own; until Thorin handed him over to Dwalin in order to draw his sword.

"I c'stand," the prince slurred, wriggling his arm between him and Dwalin's chest. He got a curt order to shut up and submitted to being supported. In the end he really wasn't sure he could uphold himself anyway.

"What were you doing with my nephew?" Thorin demanded, his sword pointed directly at the merchant pair who'd since been forced to their knees.

"We found 'im," the girl answered. "On a ledge over the cliff."

"He was injured, so we brought him back to you," the boy continued. "We didn't do anything to harm him."

The dwarves laughed darkly at that, though Thorin's scowl only deepened and the tip of his blade made contact under the boy's chin. "I trust you don't need a reminder that it was you and your people who had him captive in the first place."

"We thought he was a thief," he reasoned, "We've killed people for less, you should be thanking us we didn't stick an arrow through his back when we had the chance."

"Not especially bright, is he?" Avery commented with a smirk.

"My name is Tristan," the boy went on in defiance, "and this is my sister, Lia. We mean you no harm, we brought your friend back to you as a gesture of goodwill."

Lia quickly took over; "You have to understand, we've lost everything we've worked towards in the past few hours this night including our livelihood and our friends. We have nothing."

"That's not my concern," Thorin said bluntly.

"Everyone knows this area is full of goblins and trolls," she argued, "Yet you came storming into our caravan as loudly as possible and awoke the brutes. Now priceless craftwork, products, and creatures are smashed on the cliffs and our people have scattered or died. You are, in part, responsible for our hardships Master Dwarf."

Thorin didn't speak. He felt like they were placing blame where it wasn't due, but he didn't have a rebuttal. Fíli had seemingly acted recklessly when raiding the merchant party, and it was true that he could have been killed instead of held captive…

"I will accept that under better circumstances, your party may have avoided the trolls," Thorin reasoned, "But your party did nothing to aid in the fight against the trolls and your wagons match that of the slave merchants we are hunting. I will not pretend that I am not suspicious of your relationship with the criminals who took our companions." Thorin took a moment to let them chew on what he said before drawing a heavy sigh. "Be that as it may, you have brought my nephew back to us alive. Therefor, you are free to leave with your necks in tact."

Brent and Avery took their knives away and sheathed them as Thorin turned the tip of his blade to the ground. Tristan and Lia rose to their feet and brushed the dirt off of their clothes, throwing dirty looks to the armed men behind them. Thorin turned to address Fíli when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Master dwarf." Thorin's party tensed immediately, weapons gleaming in his peripherals. He controlled his incredulous expression to find Lia's pleading eyes meeting his. "Please, we have no where to go. If it's discovered that we have lost our cargo, the other circles of merchants will not be kind to us. The dragon egg alone took—"

"Dragon egg? Ha!"

"Silence, Guinn."

Lia bit her lip and dropped her hand, resigning herself to an unannounced fate. "We will be killed if we return to the circles empty handed," she said softly, "We've failed."

"I cannot carry you two as a burden," Thorin replied in a bitter tone.

"I wouldn't expect you to," she said. "But you mentioned you were hunting a certain party of merchants and…" she glanced at her brother, who gave her a small nod. "I think we could help you find them."

Thorin scoffed and pulled away from her. "We've been tracking them just fine on our own."

"You were at the festival in Brendor, I know," she said quickly, "The slavers were there not a day before. If you've been tracking them since that day, I can tell you now that the only reason you haven't caught them is because you're being mislead."

The dwarves were silent, unable to hide their interest in her words. The girl looked encouraged and braved a step closer to Thorin. "Demetrius, the leader, is our uncle. We know his weaknesses, strengths, and most importantly, his tricks. No doubt he's been putting you off his trail more times than you can count. My brother and I can help you see straight through them."

Thorin glanced over to his companions, where Bifur and Oin had narrowed their eyes in thought. She was making sense; they had been on the road at a breakneck pace for nearly two weeks without any success.

"How do I know you won't lead us astray?" Thorin pressed. "I've learned not to trust your kind."

"Because we will die at the hands of our kind the moment we leave your side." Tristan stepped up and put a hand on his sister's shoulder. "Our vocation lies in working as a team, we're not built to survive own. You don't have to trust us Master Dwarf, but trust our desperation."

Thorin stood silent a moment, before relenting with a small nod. "Very well," he said, "But you will be watched closely."

The pair nodded and whatever they did next was lost to Thorin as he turned to address his now unconscious nephew.

"How is he?"

Dwalin had laid him down on the ground and was knelt by his side. "He's breathing and there's no fever," he reported, "Didn't get much further than that."

"Let me take a look at him," Oin muttered, pushing through the tense dwarves. Thorin took vigil by Fíli's side as the healer removed Fíli's layers and began prodding for injuries. The king started tapping his foot in impatience until Oin spoke up. "He's badly bruised, especially on his right side," he said, indicating to where with his finger. "One broken rib, three cracked if I'm not mistaken. Nearly broke his hip too if it weren't for the thick furs on his jacket." Thorin nodded, wincing slightly at the bright discoloration revealed when Oin lifted Fíli's tunic. The healer went on with a set grimace. "His leg is alright minus this long scrape. It won't need stitches, but it will need a good cleaning. He must've scratched it on a rock on his way down…His head has a welt on the right side as well, but shouldn't be anything serious. There's a cut there too that should be cleaned."

"Anything else?" Thorin asked in exasperation.

"From what I can tell…no. Lots of scrapes and bruises all over, but for the most part he was…incredibly lucky."

Thorin couldn't deny that it was better than what he could've dared hope for. How Fíli escaped death was a mystery, but one that would have to be solved at another day. "Why isn't he waking up?" Thorin asked, gingerly peeling the hair stuck to the dried blood on his nephew's head.

"He was actin' strange before he fell," Oin reminded him, "I'm guessing he was drugged."

"Drugged."

"He'll be alright," the old healer smiled, "Sleeping powders are often used and sold by merchants. He just needs to sleep it off." Oin rose to his feet and popped his joints with a mighty groan. "As for now, I'll prepare some cloths and bandages to patch the lad up."

"Thank you," Thorin muttered, giving up on the stuck hair for the moment. Fíli's breaths were slow and deep, but his face was completely wiped of emotion as he slept.

Perhaps this is for the best, Thorin thought, noting the dark circles of restlessness under Fíli's eyes. He needed to sleep.

"Here."

The weathered dwarf looked up to find Era holding out bandages to him, her eyes steely. He took them silently and placed them on his knee, knowing to wait for Oin to return before he attempted to wrap injuries. Era knelt beside Fíli and ran a hand along his face and then undoing a snag in his hair.

"The lad looks peaceful," she said.

Thorin didn't reply, though he agreed. She picked up Fíli's discarded cloak and tucked it over his bare chest to fend off the night air and rolled up his shirt for him to use as a pillow.

The ministrations continued when suddenly three sleepy wolf pups were stumbling over to them, yipping drunkenly at the sight of the sleeping Fíli. Era frowned in disbelief as the three little dogs nuzzled into a their own respective corner of Fíli's body and fell instantly asleep. Ori came running over, an apology already half way out of his mouth.

"—rocks, but then they woke up and they're are so wriggly and—"

"It's okay Ori," Thorin brushed the boy off, though not unkindly, "I think he likes them. And they'll keep him warm."

"But…Master Thorin…aren't you worried about fleas? Or diseases?" Ori swallowed, glancing at the stack of snoring pups. Thorin shrugged and ran a hand over their soft pelts.

"They're cleaner than we are, Ori."

Thorin combed the fur with his fingers again with a smirk. He did make a promise, after all. Not to mention their tiny wet noses were not…entirely disagreeable.

Ori walked left them in peace while Oin cleaned out Fíli's wounds and bandaged them. Era lingered even after the healer had finished and retired to his sleeping mat. Thorin knew what he had to do next.

"It was wrong of me to doubt you, Era."

The woman stiffened briefly before letting out a sigh. "We're all worried." She rose to her feet and gave Fíli one last glance before turning her cool expression to Thorin. "I'm glad he's alive."

And then she was gone, leaving Thorin alone with his sleeping nephew. He ran his hand over Fíli's bandages and shook his head. "What have you boys gotten yourselves into?"

His response was a tired groan from one of the puppies and a small twitch from his nephew and nothing more. Without another word, the king rose to sit on a higher perch and watch over the camp as they retired into a brief but much needed rest.


o

Thanks for all the amazing reviews on the last chapter! It was so long and took so much out of me that this chapter took a lot of willpower to write, not to mention I needed some time to catch up on life. You should see the state of my laundry. Seriously. But hopefully you enjoyed it, I'm having fun writing it for sure. Milli and Era found a special little place in my heart :) Expect some tiny Durins in the next chapter!