This Thanksgiving I am thankful for time to write and patient, wonderful, loving readers.
17
Brief and Cruelest Fair
Fíli ran his hands through his hair nervously, feeling it tremble in spite of himself. The excited chatter amongst the merchants outside proved what he wasn't ready to hear.
They had arrived.
That is to say, they found the Greyflood, but now they were following the river to the trade port where all the auctions were to be held. Fíli would listen from his prison on wheels, gathering bits and pieces of information about the world outside. They were going to arrive within two days. There would be a final viewing where the slaves would be displayed and then the auction would fall the evening afterwards, where each individual would be brought up to bid.
The viewing is what Fíli was aiming for.
Kíli watched him with narrowed eyes, feeling the worry radiating off of Fíli's skin like heat from a furnace.
A furnace would be nice.
Fíli had taken to making Kíli bite down on a rag when he slept so that his shivering wouldn't shatter his teeth. In exchange for the blow to his dignity, Kíli would periodically braid pieces of straw into Fíli's hair. It lightened the mood, at least.
Kíli shuttered, tightening his folded arms against his chest. He shut his eyes a moment to hide them from his brother's searching glare.
Keep it together; you're worrying him sick.
But when he opened them, it was if Aulë had shone mercy down upon him at last. The roof to their wagon was being lifted off and the incredibly bright warm sun flooded in, bathing him in its glow.
"Ah," he sighed, resting his head against the wood, "That feels nice."
Across the way, Bofur cocked an eyebrow at Fíli, who looked equally as confused.
"Laddie, this is a small compartment we're locked in. Pity us."
Fíli suppressed a chuckle as the serene look on Kíli's face twisted in confusion.
"I was just enjoying the sun," he defended. Then his eyes flicked around the wagon and his face seemed to fall in disappointment. Fíli looked at their barred window, perplexed by how such a small trace of sunlight could bring his brother so much joy.
I don't understand.
Kíli furrowed his brow, blinking a few times to make sure he wasn't being deceived. Had the roof not just been off the wagon? Where did the sun go?
Kíli, that doesn't make any sense.
"Hey, you're not shivering anymore. Is the sun really helping that much?" Fíli asked with an encouraging smile. Kíli looked at him with confusion written all over his features.
"You see the sun?"
"…The window?"
"Oh…" Kíli looked at the weak few beams of light coming through the bars. "Yeah, I guess so."
Fíli and Bofur exchanged a look before shifting uncomfortably in their enclosure.
He's delirious, Fíli sighed to himself. He misses the fresh air. He reached out his hand and touched Kíli's temple, which was burned with scorching heat. Sweat trickled down his skin and dampened his dark bangs.
"Stop," Kíli grunted, jerking his head away. Doing so left his ears ringing, forcing his eyes closed so his brother wouldn't see them go cross.
"Kee?" Fíli had finally torn the sleeves of his coat the other night so that Kíli could wear it over him fully, but it did hide his wounds from Fíli's watchful eye. "What's wrong?" He laid a hand on his shoulder, eliciting a sharp hiss from the dark haired dwarf. Fíli snatched his hand away as if it'd been burned, muttering a stream of quick apologies.
"I'm sore," Kíli admitted, shifting with discomfort, "And I'm not so fond of your hand landing on my forehead every time I blink funny. I have a fever Fíli, and here's a fresh bit of news; I'm going to have a fever again within the next hour. And I'll have it again tomorrow. If you're hoping it's just going to go away just spare us both, alright?"
Fíli raised his eyebrows and readied a retort, but thought better of it as a small shutter ran over Kíli's body. Arguing wasn't going to help.
"You're right, I'm sorry," Fíli replied carefully.
Bofur was whistling a tune while Kíli braided more straw into the sleeping Fíli's hair. He scowled at his nails, which were blackening more everyday, like tea steeping hot water with black tendrils reaching for the top.
You really could die from this, Kíli.
He chuckled at himself. The idea of dying from Goblin Fever had been with him every step of the way on this journey, yet the actual reality of it still couldn't touch him. The truth of death, that nothingness, hadn't infiltrated his psyche.
Not yet, anyway.
So for now he'd laugh and assume that somehow, everything was going to work out. Outside of the wagon everything was quiet beyond the general noise of the animals and the rolling of wagon wheels. Someone coughed. A child let out a loud whine.
For slavers, they really are a rather boring crowd.
Suddenly somebody screamed, and chaos erupted outside. Fíli startled awake so fast he nearly knocked heads with Kíli.
"What's going on?" he demanded as their compartment wobbled with the impact of someone's body hitting the side.
"I don't know!" Kíli cried, wincing as the wagon rattled again.
"WHERE ARE THEY?!"
Fíli looked at Kíli with wide eyes. "Thorin!"
Bofur began shouting first. "HERE! WE IN HERE, LADS!"
"Uncle Thorin!" Fíli cried out. Kíli pounded against the wood with his fist, making as much noise as possible as his heart raced a thousand miles a minute.
Suddenly the door was torn off and there stood Dwalin and Thorin, bloody axes poised and snarls set into their faces like carved stone.
"Thorin!" Kíli cried, his voice breaking in relief. The two older dwarves stalked into the wagon, seeming to consume its space with their forbearance.
"Let's get you out of these chains then," Dwalin grunted, raising his axe. In moments, the chains keeping Kíli and Bofur tethered to the wall were split and they were running. Bofur was thrown over Dwalin's shoulder and Thorin had a firm grip on both of his nephews' forearms. If it weren't for his total elation, Kíli would feel like he was in trouble with a grip that tight.
"Get on these horses and ride for Ered Luin, we'll catch up," Thorin commanded, thrusting them at two impatient scouting horses with full saddles.
"But—"
"Go!"
Thorin spun around and Dwalin threw Bofur on a horse rather unceremoniously before joining his king in the fight. Fíli helped Kíli onto the horse as they watched their uncle plunge his axe and sword into every merchant that came their way. Daren fell, Tobias fell, Demetrius was gone before he even drew his sword.
"C'mon Kíli," Fíli said calmly, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. Kíli felt the horse move below him without prompt and closed his eyes, ignoring the noise around him and focusing on the thought of being home.
"C'mon Kíli," Fíli pleaded, shaking his brother's shoulder, "Kíli, snap out of it!"
"He's hallucinating laddie, there's nothing you can do," Bofur said sadly, watching as the youngest Durin's thrashings quieted. "He looks happy, be glad of it."
Fíli brushed the damp hair back from Kíli's forehead. His brother's eyes had closed now and a smile stretched across his face.
"He's fading so fast," Fíli groaned, adjusting his coat so that it covered Kíli's shoulders. Kíli shifted and mumbled something about their mother while Fíli shushed him and stroked his hair. "He's almost at the end of the stages," Fíli continued, frowning as Kíli chuckled lightly in his sleep. "Four is brief but cruelest fair, to the truth you're blind. And all you loved is clearly there as boundless visions grace the air, but only in the mind."
Bofur sighed, unable to figure out what to say.
"Adad," Kíli groaned, opening his eyes blearily. "Adad, don't be angry."
Fíli blinked down at his brother, who was staring up at him with eyes bright with fever. "Kíli, I'm not…you know I'm not…"
It had been twenty years since their father lost both of his legs in a mining accident. He's the reason Kíli took to archery; his father needed to learn to fight without his legs and Kíli wanted to learn to use a weapon. The two of them practiced endlessly until they had mastered the art, though Kíli may have surpassed their father after some time. But who bested who didn't matter; they never said it but they all knew the huge role that the archery lessons played in their father's recovery. Kíli pulled their father through it.
And now Fíli was losing him.
"Adad, I tried to keep them safe," Kíli continued, taking Fíli's hand. "You understand right?"
"Kíli…" Fíli sighed and squeezed Kíli's hand. "I understand. There's nothing you could have done."
"There's nothing anyone could have done," Kíli pressed, "Fíli and Uncle Thorin came as soon as they knew…they saved me in the end. This isn't their fault."
Fíli smiled sadly at his brother. "Alright Kee."
"You won't yell at him?"
"Of course I will," Fíli answered with a chuckle. Kíli frowned but Fíli stopped him from speaking. "But first I will embrace him, tell him how happy I am that he's home. I'll make sure he's alright. Then I'll yell at him."
"But—"
"He ran away from your uncle twice, Kíli," Fíli felt odd talking about himself like this, but it was oddly therapeutic. "He'll need to answer for his recklessness." And will I ever. "But for now there is peace, go to sleep."
Kíli sighed and nodded his head, closing his eyes again. As soon as Fíli could feel his breathing even out, he pulled his hand away and stood up in anger.
"I need to get my pack from the merchants," he growled, "I need to get that Mallos."
"You'll not make it past them," Bofur answered skeptically. Fíli shrugged.
"Have a little faith."
Tristan sighed as they handed him another tray of food and water to bring to the 'dwarf scum' in the prisoner's box wagon. This meal featured stale bread, a strip of deer jerky for each dwarf, and a stem of dark red berries that stained his fingers with juice.
"An' after that you can brush down the horses," the gruesome woman who was charged with watching him commanded.
"Very well."
Tristan turned and stalked away. Lia crossed his path on her way to a different wagon, her arms laden with firewood. Her weapons were gone, save for the long-hilted dagger that she had kept from their various odd and exotic wares. An odd choice. Her face was composed and her demeanor stiff and Tristan knew his sister well enough to know she wasn't happy. She barely even looked at him as she forged her way across the camp.
"Berry?" he called, tossing one of the dwarf's berries at her. She caught it without looking at him and kept walking.
I'll have to take care of that later.
He arrived at the wagon and balanced the tray in one hand with the key in another.
"Oi, I'm coming in. Don't do anything stupid."
He turned the key and next thing he knew, he was on the flat of his back with the wind knocked from his chest.
"What the—"
"Where is it?! Where's my pack?" Fíli hissed, landing on Tristan's abdomen.
"Augh—g'off!"
"Tell me where they put my pack!"
"I don't know you crazy bastard, get back in the wagon before—"
"OI!"
Fíli sprang up, looking in the direction of the voice. Other merchants had spotted the encounter and were running towards them. Tristan sighed and kicked Fíli's legs out from underneath him, pinning the dwarf with his elbows.
"Why did you have to go and do a stupid thing like that?" Tristan growled as Fíli struggled. The dwarf bucked violently and suddenly Tristan lost his grip, his face landing in the dirt where Fíli's body used to be. He felt the weight of a foot in his spine and grabbed at it before it could run further. Fíli hit the ground and Tristan wasted no time scooping him up and throwing him as hard as he could back into the wagon. The door was shut and locked before the others even reached the scene.
"What happened?!" Gris demanded, grabbing Tristan by the hair.
"Dwarf fell out of the wagon," he answered, wincing at the man's iron grip.
"Fell out? What do you mean, fell out!?"
"As in I opened the door and he'd been leanin' on it, I expect!" Tristan tore Gris hand from his hair and took a defensive step back. Gris was quick to react and soon his nose was an inch from Tristan's.
"I'm watchin' you boy. I don't trust you, not for a minute."
"Enjoy the view," the boy replied with a smirk. Gris struck him across the face so hard he thought he'd snapped his neck. He was still registering the blow as Gris wrenched open the door to the prisoner's wagon and pulled the blonde dwarf out by the hair. Fíli was thrown to the ground and kicked hard.
"Fíli! No, stop it!" Kíli and Bofur were struggling against their chains in desperation. Kíli's face was screwed up in confusion as if the lad didn't know exactly how he'd ended up in a wagon. All he knew was that his brother was currently being strapped with a knotted rope whip that Gris kept in his belt.
"Stop!"
Tristan winced, now finally feeling the panic of the situation. Fíli grabbed the tails of the whip on the fifth blow and tried to yank it from Gris' hands. The momentary tug of war ended when Daren slammed the dwarf into the dirt and stuck a knife to his neck.
"He's Demetrius' prize sell now, so I suggest all of you stop this nonsense before someone gets killed."
Lia was standing on the outskirts of the small cluster that had accumulated. Her arms were crossed and her normally wild hair braided back. She threw her brother an icy look before turning her glare to Gris.
"I don't take orders from mountain rats," the man spat, taking a threatening step at Lia.
"Doesn't change the fact that I'm right," she answered coolly, not responding one way or the other to Gris' posture. "The viewing is in less than two days, if he's covered in bruises then he won't sell."
Tristan looked at the dwarf who was heaving huge, angry breaths from the ground where he was being held. Both he and Lia knew that he was already covered in bruises from his tumble down the cliff, but that was beside the point. Tristan threw her a wink from across the way, one that she didn't return.
"Very well," Gris allowed, gesturing for Fíli to be taken back to the wagon. Without warning his whip caught Lia across the face, the knots each landing a different spot. Tristan prepared to lunge but some of the men held him back.
"You'll make him worse," they whispered.
"You know, maybe if you'd done what I instructed you to do with those creatures, you would not have lost all of your stock," Gris hissed, "But you didn't listen. Your recklessness will get you killed."
"And your methods would have killed the cargo," she replied simply.
"Who's side are you on, wretch?" Gris was towering over her, fist bared.
"Mine."
She easily dodged the punch that was meant for her face, scooped up the basket she'd been carrying, and walked away. Tristan breathed a sigh of relief and shook off the men that were holding his arms. The crowd was dispersing now that the excitement was over, allowing Tristan to his sister's knife laying in the dirt.
"Lia, wait!"
He scooped it up and brushed the dirt off on his way towards her. She turned, revealing the swelling on the left side of her face. Tristan winced and held the long-hilted knife to her.
"You dropped this," he said with a smile. She looked down at the weapon in surprise. "It's the one father got you from that odd trades fair in Gondor, right?"
"Yes, thank you," she said, taking it by the hilt.
"You might need it someday," Tristan shrugged, patting her on the shoulder. if she answered, it was lost as he walked away.
Fíli punched the wall, tugging angrily at the new chains that kept his feet tethered to the wagon. Kíli blinked at him groggily.
"Are you okay?" he asked, putting a hand on Fíli's shoulder.
"Yes, I'm fine," he grumbled, grinding his knuckles into the wood.
"They didn't bite you, did they?"
Fíli bit back his irritation. "What are you talking about?"
"The wolves."
Fíli looked at him in surprise. Had he told Kíli about the wolf pups he'd adopted when he was with Thorin? But then he noticed the sort of out-of-focus way that Kíli was looking at him and realized it was just another hallucination.
"I'm alright, I promise," Fíli reassured him in a kinder tone. Kíli nodded and patted his blond hair.
"At least tell me you got one. Mum's winter coat could use a new collar, the fur on it is matted."
"Just missed 'em."
Kíli shrugged, wincing a little. "Next time. We should get back anyway, mum will have dinner ready by now."
Fíli's stomach growled involuntarily at the thought of his mother's cooking. What he wouldn't give for something hot right then.
"I'm with you laddie," Bofur agreed, hearing Fíli's stomach loud and clear.
"We'll be there Kee, don't worry."
It went on like that for some time, with Kíli musing on home and the other two playing along rather than disrupt his happiness. The door to the wagon opened again after a few hours and in walked Tristan.
"I got your pack," he said, closing the door and dropping it in front of Fíli's feet. The dwarf blinked in shock, staring at it like some kind of foreign entity. "Not sure why you wanted it so bad."
Fíli lunged at it and tore it open, searching it frantically. Tristan shrugged and put a pitcher of water on the ground. "Couldn't convince them to give you any dinner after the stunt you pulled, but I got you something to drink."
Fíli was too distracted to pay attention, so Tristan waited until he had Kíli's attention.
"Make sure you drink all of it, understand?"
Of course Kíli didn't. Who was this guy, anyway?
"Got it," Bofur said, something in his voice indicating he was saying more than what Kíli understood.
"WHERE IS IT?!" Fíli roared, turning the pack upside down and shaking it violently. A compass, some rolls of bread, and a blanket tumbled out.
"Where's what?" Tristan replied, eyebrows raised.
"The m—" Fíli stopped himself and looked disdainfully at Tristan. "They took everything out of my pack!"
"I imagine they would loot it after taking it from a prisoner," the boy shrugged.
"Tristan," Fíli's voice was desperate now. "I need a…a favor…"
"No." The ginger boy folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. "I'm raising enough suspicion as it is. I can't do you any more favors."
"But it's life or death!"
"In a couple of days you will be free or dead, that's the best I can offer you."
"I just need you to get something for me!"
"Understand me, Fíli," Tristan said bluntly, "I can't help you. They'll hurt Lia before they hurt me. I can't put my sister at risk for you. The viewing is approaching, you should prepare yourself." Tristan made to exit and pointed at the pitcher, "Drink that. All of it. I mean it."
A little over a day later.
"Mum," Kíli groaned, swatting an annoying hand away from him, "Leave me alone."
His mother muttered some unintelligible curses as she fought back against him, forcing him to change the bandage on his shoulder. They'd said something about it getting infected. Minor, but still needs treatment.
"Kíli, we've got to go soon. Stop fighting me."
"I don't want to go hunting today."
Kíli looked up at whoever was gripping the sides of his face to find Fíli's face swimming into view. "Focus Kíli."
"Hey Fee," he groaned, "What's wrong?"
"We've got to put on these weird clothes and line up."
Kíli screwed up his face and sat up.
I…I'm in a box.
Bofur's here. He looks awful.
"Kíli, are you with me?"
His eyes lolled back to Fíli's concerned and mildly impatient face. "You're anxious, what's going on?"
"We…arrived at the Greyflood. It's time for the viewing."
Kíli blinked, his reality flooding back into focus. "The final viewing?"
"There's an auction this evening."
Kíli was silent. Both Bofur and Fíli were dressed in slate gray tunics and pants with thin leather boots. He himself was shirtless save for Fíli's old coat draped over him.
"What are we going to do?" he asked, taking the set of clothing Fíli had waiting for him. He realized his hands were shaking and sent his brother a nervous smile in an attempt to pass it off. Fíli was shaking too, anyway.
"There's a plan in motion," Bofur said with apprehension.
Kíli tested the new bandages on his body that, no doubt, Fíli had wrapped himself. Satisfied, he started to pull on the clothes as the other two explained the plan. In short, they'd managed to get the antidote for the sleeping powder that the slavers use to make them lethargic and complacent at the viewings. They'd originally planned to act up right at the viewing, but they'd found out that there were going to be archers on guard. Now the plan was to act completely under the influence. Go through the motions of the viewing flawlessly so as not to raise suspicion. And then again at the auction. But when they were all sold and the masters came to collect the cargo; they would take advantage of the relaxed guard and let all hell break loose. They would grab whomever they could grab and run.
"Won't people realize who we are?" Kíli asked, wincing as he adjusted his tunic. The effort it took to put on his clothes had left him a little winded. His heart rate was up and a small sheen of sweat covered his forehead.
It's just the stress.
"Tristan said the whole place is going to be saturated in traders, which includes hundreds of stands with all kinds of clothing and weapons. He suggested we steal the first things we see and find somewhere dark to change."
"My my, first you run away from Uncle Thorin and now you're planning a full blown assault and robbery case? What have you become?"
Fíli froze a moment, not expecting Kíli's words. But the moment his saw the edges of Kíli's mouth pinching into an impish smile he laughed openly.
"Mother is going to be so proud."
The door swung open and the dwarves assumed the slack position of someone under the influence of the drugs. They'd found traces of the powder on their clothes, so no doubt the other captives would be in a stupor by now. Daren walked in with his whip folded in his hands.
"Stand up," he demanded, "It's time to go."
Fíli got into line with the others. It was chilly this morning as the sun was beginning to rise. The land around them was crowded with wagons laden with goods of every color and shape. Yet it was eerie the way everything was still and dormant at this early hour. The wagons had their covers drawn and heavy locks kept furniture and possessions in place. It felt like watching beautiful but dangerous predator in its sleep, just waiting on the brink of disaster.
Kíli was lined up in front of him, his head bent forward loosely on his neck and his shoulders slumped. The others surrounding them had their eyelids at half mass and the posture limp.
Good, he's playing the role well.
Fíli worried a little for Bofur, who was still limping but not allowed to walk with a cane for fear of scaring off bidders. He was scared for his brother, who was swaying slightly on his feet and shaking as if greatly chilled.
It could be his wounds, Fíli suggested, or he could be getting sicker.
"Remember Kíli," Fíli whispered, once the guards had passed down the line out of earshot. "This is the most important part. We have to pull this off or else the whole plan fails."
"I understand."
Fíli closed his eyes, brushing off his concern. He'd have to help Kíli later. Every captive had their hands shackled behind their backs and connected to a longer chain that held them together. They marched like that through the camp, their footsteps crunching on the frosty ground beneath them. Kíli was shivering violently as they moved, his teeth chattering so loudly it made Fíli's jaw hurt just to listen to.
Not much longer. It's going to be alright.
He glanced to the left and saw Tristan, casually counting heads and dressed in full tradesman garb. He really looked like one of them, in his black pants and boots with a colorful vest that made the vibrant wagons look like rice paper, a woolen knit tunic underneath and a band tied around his head. Daren stood close by in an almost identical outfit, minus the copious amount of yellow that Tristan embraced. Fíli felt a pang of worry.
Maybe he's one of them after all. Maybe this is all a trap.
Just then the ginger boy's eyes landed on Fíli's and he gave the slightest of winks before looking on.
"Move along."
It was Lia's voice. It took everything in Fíli's system not to be startled by her; not to look at her and ask a million questions. From his eyes being cast to the ground, he could see she too was wearing the black leather boots and pants, but this ability to see her ended there. The line started shifting in its slow, pulsing and dreary cadence and the dwarves moved with it. Fíli's heart was racing as he walked and he prayed to Mahal that they wouldn't see his heart trying to pound its way out of his chest.
Within the next two hours, Fíli witnessed one of the most bizarre awakenings he's every scene. The dormant beast of a trading ground suddenly reared with new life and the smell of fresh cakes and hot cider wafted through the air. The Greyflood River rushed and babbled along of the waking voices and tuning instruments.
And I thought the festival in Brendor was extravagant.
Fíli and the others were lined up in a hidden compartment under a stage-like platform. They were hidden from the bustling activity outside by wooden beams and tarps, but the isolation only made Fíli more anxious. Kíli knees were shaking and sweat clung to the collar of his tunic, but from what Fíli could tell he was doing better than expected.
That's my strong brother, Fíli bragged to himself, keeping it together even in the face of this.
Soon the crowd outside of the stage alone was dense enough that just their excess in breathing made the dwarves concerned that there would be no air left before the day was done.
"It's show time," Demetrius rang, passing through the anxious guards. Fíli's eyes caught sight of a young man who looked very much like Demetrius—minus a significant portion of weight and age—walking gingerly up to the blond boy who'd set up shop next to Tristan and Lia. Bot of them looked nervous to be where they were, no doubt expecting a disgruntled client to pounce at any moment.
"Rodney, it's good to see you on your feet," Tobias remarked. The ginger boy gave him a tight smile, folding an arm lightly over his abdomen.
Fíli felt his eyes boring into him and forced himself to remain calm.
"That's the dwarf you brought to us, cousins?"
Lia and Tristan seemed surprised to be addressed, but nodded.
"That's him."
Rodney scoffed and looked between Fíli and Kíli. "Dwarves are a mistake we will not make again."
Tristan laughed darkly. "So I've experienced."
All insults and slights aside, Fíli realized that this whole time, Demetrius had been talking to the crowd. They sounded excited and soon, row by row, the captives were brought up the stairs and onto the stage. Fíli, Kíli, and Bofur's line watched two other rows disappear, all sullen and depressed, before theirs was called.
Remember. Act. Normal.
Demetrius was waiting for them, along with a sea of hundreds of faces glaring up at them from below the stage. Though he was fully clothes, Fíli felt completely naked. He glanced over at Kíli, who now stood next to him facing out at the crowd. His face was slack and there was no sign of expression in his eyes. He was pulling it off perfectly, now Fíli only had to worry about himself and the limping Bofur. First two human girls were shown, one at a time. The line of ten captives would wait toward the back of the stage while one of them was unattached and brought to the front where Demetrius would talk about their special talents and values.
The others all went before the dwarves were even mentioned. It made sense really, seeing as they were such commodities.
"And now, all the way from the depths of the Blue Mountain…pulled from the mines of ice and diamonds I give you this fine creature!"
Bofur's turn. He did his best not to limp too heavily. Demetrius passed it off as a hard-work injury. Fíli barely listened to what was said. And then it was his turn.
I'm going to throw up.
Gris unlinked him from the ground and led him by the elbow to where Demetrius stood in a jolly green ensemble. How could he bare to have so many greedy eyes on him at once? Even some with pity. He could see that there was some pity.
"…royalty! But rest assured, this one knows that his allegiance lies with the one in charge. And that could be y—" Fíli closed his eyes and steadies his breathing. He could do this. This river, these people, this situation. Nothing mattered except freeing Kíli and getting him medical attention. He had to get it right. He had to be perfect. Kíli had always been the performer, not him.
And then, all of a sudden he was being sent back as several people out in the audience nodded in approval and scribbled things down in their books. If it weren't so revolting, Fíli might be flattered.
You can do this, Kíli.
Fíli nearly gasped at the gaunt look on Kíli's face as he passed, his whole body trembling. Demetrius was too distracted to notice, calling him a snake slayer and master swordsmen.
"Would you care to demonstrate?" Demetrius offered, procuring a bow and soft-ended arrows. Kíli look them with no emotion and fired at the provided target. He hit it, though his performance was slacking from what Fíli knew his brother could do. Perhaps hew as trying to keep some cards to himself?
"There, now what a fine young lad! And as I said about dwarves earlier, he love to follow di—"
Not long now. It's almost over.
Kíli had his arms chained behind him again, the fake bow and arrow gone; a rotund slave driver selling him in the same way one would sell a horse or a rocking chair. And hundreds of expectant, spoiled, judgmental people staring up at him.
Demetrius smiled at the crowd. "But what really stands out—to me personally—about the dwarven race is their endurance. Their strength."
And suddenly, as if someone had blown out a flickering candle, Kíli collapsed into a heap.
He landed with a thud that echoed like a gong over the sea of people who'd suddenly fallen deathly silent. Demetrius' words had died in his mouth. Fíli's heart died as well.
"KILI!"
I'll be back soon! Yay holiday breaks and writing time!
