Okay, a day late. But you waited this long, right?

Sorry if it's a bit rushed. I'm rusty! But stay tuned for more!

And happy reading.

21

Snow Dragons

Fíli gaped at the flames rising from the festival on shore. The crew was panicking, looking to their leader to give them further instruction. Demetrius' face was red as a beet as Gris ground his teeth together, chasing Demetrius' heels.

"Drop the anchor!"

"Demetrius, we can't stop now."

"My son is down there," he barked back, "And so is yours for that matter. You want to leave them at the mercy of goblins and dwarves?"

Dwarves?

"We're already moving, we couldn't make it back now even if we tried!"

"We have boats!"

"We have jobs!" Gris pointed his finger like a spear at the commotion on the shore, "If we raised them right our sons shouldn't need our help. They can handle themselves."

"The entire confounded camp is on fire—"

"I think Demetrius is right, we should go back," Lia contributed.

Fíli's head spun as he watched the argument before him. Dwarves were attacking at the shore? Thorin must have found them.

But Thorin didn't know that Kíli was dead.

Suddenly Fíli hoped the ship would never stop. Not until they sailed to the edge of the world and toppled over it.

The argument was heating up when Gris pulled an axe from his belt and swung it at the anchor chain. A moment later, the anchor was lost in the river and the ship began its trek.

"You are out of line," Demetrius growled. "How are we supposed to stop when we reach the other port, did you think about that you brainless git?"

"Maybe if you're lucky they'll just kill each other and save you the trouble," Lia commented, standing suddenly very close to Fíli. He strained against his bonds, ignoring the sharp pain in his wrist, snarling a muffled curse at her. "Oh right," she sighed, "You want to kill me. Remember when we were friends? That was ni—"

Lia's words were suddenly cut off by an incredibly loud explosion of blue light.


"Tha' ships leaving," Bofur growled, pulling against his chains, "And it's not going to stop for the likes of you. You've been abandoned."

Daren and Rodney seemed to ignore him, striking down the goblins that ran into their path. The sky was getting darker by the minute and the goblins only seemed to be multiplying. Bofur's heart leapt when he saw Millí, Gimli, and Ori were still alive but the excitement was short lived when he saw the monsters on their heels. Thorin and the others were caught further up the bank, the camp was being lit up like a torch, and he was stuck to a tree. Chained up and still fighting the sleeping powder, the slaves were little more than bait for the creatures.

"Let us go," Bofur continued, "You're not going to be able to sell us anyhow, we're all just going to wind up in the bellies of goblins unless you give us a chance to defend ourselves!"

"I don't care anymore," Rodney snarled, striking down a goblin before turning to him. "I don't care if you sell for a thousand coins or you drown in the river. I don't want to be responsible for your fate any longer."

"So you'll let us go?"

Rodney's face seemed to resign. The boy was wounded, betrayed, and exhausted. "I will let you go."

The young man picked up a crude war hammer from a goblin carcass and raised it above his head, intent for the padlock when a sword was suddenly protruding from his chest. Bofur watched the light leave his eyes, the hammer drop, and the boy collapse to reveal Millí, already pulling one of her axes from its harness.

"Millí! He was going to free us!"

"No, I'm freeing you," she answered curtly, bringing her axe down on the lock. A moment later they were able to unravel themselves from the chains holding them back.

Except, as luck would have it, none of them could stand properly on their own.

"What's wrong with the lot of you?" Millí asked, helping Bofur to his feet.

"Drugs for them," Bofur answered, wincing, "Broken leg for me."

"Oh, right I remember." Millí's face was suddenly sad.

"I'm glad to see you alive," Bofur said earnestly. He watched her eyes scan over the crowd of stumbling slaves and knew who she was looking for. Who she wouldn't find.

"Millí, there's something I need to tell you."

"Don't tell me," she said quickly, blinking away tears from her eyes. "Please."

Bofur's heart fell but he nodded in agreement, leaning heavily on her for support. Brent, Avery, and Kendrick were suddenly there, forming a protective barricade around Aliza and the other slaves.

"Bofur I should go, I have keep—"

Something struck the girl sideways, effectively knocking Bofur to the ground as well. Daren was on top of her in an instant, knife arm raised and eyes blazing.

"Confound the dwarvish race to hell," he growled. He brought the knife down toward her chest, but she caught it with her one free hand. Bofur winced and Millí cried out as the blade bit into her palm, but she couldn't release it. A goblin took Bofur's defenselessness to its advantage and attacked, stopping him from being able to help Millí.

When suddenly Ori appeared out of nowhere and tackled Daren.

"Ori!"

The boy's charge was short lived, as his head struck a rock after his impact with Daren and he fell unconscious. Millí sprung to action and soon her and Daren were locked sword to axe in a shower of sparks.

Bofur, however, was struggling.

The goblin was ruthlessly fast and Bofur could hardly restrain it.

"I could use a little help!" Bofur cried out, turning his face away from the goblin's gnashing teeth. In the struggle, the creature stepped on his splinted leg, eliciting an anguished scream from the dwarf. Millí swung a surprise blow to Daren's face, knocking him back just long enough to leap over and cleave the goblin over Bofur.

But Daren was fast, and in an instant he surprised Millí and managed to wrench her axe from her hand. She swore, leaping back and away from where Bofur was lying trapped under a goblin carcass. She continued her arc until Daren's back was to Bofur, trying to lure him away from the easy target.

Bofur tried to shove the dead goblin from him when suddenly Bifur was there, freeing him.

"Cousin, am I ever glad to see you," Bofur declared. Bifur smiled at him ruefully.

"Seems you've gotten yerself into a spot of trouble."

More goblins descended and Bifur took it upon himself to stand over his cousin and defend him. Bofur was able to retrieve a dagger that he used to stab at the ankles of any offending goblins who got too close. He wasn't watching Millí, but if he had been he may have been able to stop what happened next.

"You've been nothing but a plague in my life since the moment we picked you up," Daren snarled. Millí had nothing to defend herself but a goblin's pickaxe and her bleeding hand. But Gimli could be seen making his way toward them.

"You brought it on yourselves," she answered.

"So we did."

Then two things happened at once. One, Daren turned on his heels and brought Millí's axe down in an arc just as an arrow appeared out of nowhere and pierced him through the back. But it was too late. The blow meant for Bofur was stopped as the axe was buried in Bifur's skull. Millí and Bofur both screamed in shock as the dwarf, eyes wide in shock, fell to his knees and collapsed entirely.


Kíli had no idea how he managed to make it to the port. His vision was pitching in and out of focus as he scanned the scene before him. The battle was raging and chaotic. Tobi and other slave merchants lay dead in the path of goblins and dwarves alike. He was on a hill above them, slightly isolated from the action but drenched in sweat from the heat of the flaming camp behind him. A goblin's bow and quiver were clutched in his hands.

He'd shot Daren. He had seen Millí fighting him and he shot the bastard. He also saw the axe strike Bifur.

His body was shaking, begging him to give up. The shock of what he'd just witnessed was extinguishing whatever mental dexterity he had left.

Where are you, brother?

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head, trying to get his eyes to clear. In the distance he could see a ship with brightly colored sails making its way down the river.

He's trapped.

Kíli took a step forward but found his legs wouldn't support him. For a moment everything slid to black as the grass rose up to meet him.

No no no! Not now.

But he was so tired.

The fifth comes afore the night,

As darkness turns sweet.

Your eyes too weary for the light,

Your bones too heavy for the fight,

The devil takes to his feet.

Kíli dragged himself up onto his forearms and vomited into the grass. Groaning, he rolled away and used a tree and pull himself to his feet. Every inch of him felt like lead. Darkness was beckoning for him, tugging at the corners of his vision. Kíli knew he was dying, but there was one thing left he had to do.

He had to stop the ship.

It was too far, he'd never be able to run that distance much less swim the river. Even if he got on board there'd be no way for him to save Fíli. He'd just get them all killed.

Without another thought, Kíli pulled one of the goblin arrows from the quiver and smiled as it gleamed with thick, sticky poison. A few clumsy steps and he was close enough to a burning tent to ignite the poison arrow like a torch.

This might kill him.

Or it will save him.

Kíli knew, even as his thoughts were strangled and muddled by the last, that his brother would choose death over enslavement regardless.

With his last drop of energy left, Kíli knocked the burning arrow and drew it back, firing it at the ship. The flame shot like a strange star over the river, falling in an arc onto the ship. Kíli's world tilted to side and soon he was laying in the grass, unable to move.

Suddenly the ship seemed to explode, erupting with colorful fireworks. Two sapphire blue fireworks burst in the air as Kíli's eyelids slid closed. The blue orbs left an imprint on his vision even as darkness overtook him, reminding him of a familiar pair of eyes he thought he'd never see again.

Perhaps Fíli had found him after all.


The ship was on fire. Something had struck crates full of fireworks and other exotic wares and now everyone had to choose to swim or die.

The initial explosion had knocked Gris over the side of the boat. Lia lay in a heap at Fíli's feet, trying to recover from the initial explosion. Fíli's ears were ringing and his gag slipped from his face but he was otherwise unhurt.

But the sails were catching fire and soon him and the rest of the slaves on that boat would burn to death. Demetrius was distracted by something on the shore and most of the crew had abandoned ship.

"Well, this plan has completely gone to shit," Lia groaned, stumbling to her feet. Her fiery hair seemed muted now against the blaze around them.

"I hope you burn," Fíli hissed, feeling sweat drip down his temple. The other slaves were screaming in fright, struggling against their bonds.

"Oh for the love of peace," Lia sighed, whipping out her knife and swinging it down until nothing but the hilt was protruding from Fíli's chest. The dwarf blinked in surprise, staring down at the blade. His heart was pounding in his ears but for all intents and purposes he felt…nothing.

"It's a trick Fíli," Lia said, pulling the knife away to reveal the blade springing back from the hilt. "It was just a trick. Kíli's alive."

"But…the blood…"

Lia held up her hand to reveal a long thin cut that still trickled blood down her wrist.

"I figured killing Tristan would protect him," she said, "I figured he'd help your brother and whatever happened to us at least wouldn't happen to them." She nodded toward the chaotic scene on shore. "But I never predicted this."

Kíli's alive.

Fíli didn't have time to think of how to answer. She took the keys from the shell-shocked Demetrius and undid the slaves' chains as well as Fíli's. Most them ran for the edge and jumped in immediately, though some who couldn't swim hesitated.

"Lia wait!" Fíli stumbled forward, still untangling himself. Lia was perched on the edge of ship.

"I have to go Fíli," she shouted over the roar of the flames and creaking wood. "I have to find my brother and leave."

"How are we supposed to get off this ship?"

Lia smiled and shrugged, "Swim."

She reached forward and grabbed the back of Fíli's head and kissed him. With that, she pulled away and plummeted into the river. The last time he'd ever see her was the faint orange wisps of her hair as she dove into the dark depths of the water.

Fíli looked at his mangled wrist and back at the captives who were hugging each other and crying. It was burn or drown.

Just then a familiar, musical screech carried over the air. Fíli squinted and sure enough, through the darkness, the strange bird creature from before was circling over the ship. It swooped down and plucked Gris off the shore, tossing him into the thick of the battle.

"Over here!" Fíli cried, waving his arms at the creature. She shrieked her bizarre call and dove for the ship, snagging several captives by their arms and legs and dropping them unceremoniously on the shore away from the battle. Fíli laughed, the absurdity of his rescue and the knowledge of Kíli's faked death making him a bit hysterical.

"My son is dead," a mangled voice panted behind him, "And it's your lots' fault."

Fíli turned in time to see Demetrius barreling towards him with a sword in hand. He sprung away just in time, the blade biting into the side of the ship. The bird woman was too busy collecting the rest of the captives to help him.

"Demetrius, we have to get off the ship," Fíli tried to reason, running to dodge another strike. "It's sinking!"

And he wasn't wrong. The flames were biting holes into the wooden shell and edge of the water was getting closer and closer. Demetrius lunged for him and Fíli leapt back, sending several crates toppling over the edge. Out of the corner of his eyes Fíli could see a shower of yellow flowers streaming from one of the crates as it fell.

Mallos.

"Demetrius stop this! You've lost!" Fíli cried, watching the last of the captives be flown to safety.

"I created this empire for my family. So they'd never starve as I starved," Demetrius bellowed. "And now my son is gone."

Fíli's next words were cut off as Demetrius sprang forward, tackling Fíli and a bunch of crates backward and over the edge of the ship.

There was a strange falling sensation and then the water hit him like a brick. Fíli gasped, pushing against the falling debris until his head breached the water's surface.

Breathe.

But he didn't get long to rest. Soon a set of hands clawed at him and pushed him under. For a moment Fíli thought Demetrius was holding him under to drown him, but he soon realized that the man couldn't swim. He was just trying desperately to keep above water.

The irony was not lost on Fíli.

The dwarf prince kicked against Demetrius' stomach as hard as he could, using the lazy pull of the current to propel himself further away. His head broke over the surface again to see Demetrius flailing and bobbing in and out of the waters' depths. For a brief moment Fíli felt pity for the man, but remembering the look of Kíli's face when he first found him in the camp took that pity away.

Drown for all I care.

Something on the ship exploded and it started to sink rapidly. Fíli's foot struck a strong undercurrent and suddenly found himself pulled under. The fire of the ship illuminated the water and there, at the bottom, was hundreds of thousands of Mallos flowers that fell from the crates. He forced his head above water a moment, ignoring his wrist, and then plunged into the depths deeper than he ever dared to swim before, fighting the current until he reached the bottom.

It was oddly quiet under water, compared to the racket of the scene above him. It was almost peaceful as Fíli swam. The yellow flowers were nestled like little suns into the clumps of mossy river plants covered in strange white flowers. But Fíli's lungs were screaming for air and his vision was going dark, so he reached out and grabbed a fistful of the plants before kicking toward the surface.

But he'd gone too deep, he wasn't going to make it.

Kíli.

The last of his air was gone, his head felt fuzzy. He was losing feeling in his hands but he forced his fist to stay closed over the Mallos. He'd never lose it again even if it killed him.

Kíli I'm sorry.

Suddenly a dark figure was above him, tangling its fist in his tunic and yanking him to the surface. Fíli coughed and sputtered, thankful for the firm grip of whomever had rescued him from the depths.

Thorin.

His uncle's face was stern and unblinking. On the shore, Dwalin and Era were holding a rope that was wrapped around Thorin's waist. At his sign they began hauling them in.

"We saw you fall," Thorin answered Fíli's thoughts, "We saw that beast try to drown you. The firelight is proving too much for the goblins and they're leaving."

"Where's Kíli?" Fíli ground out, his throat sore from coughing. Thorin, however, had no answer for him.

A minute later, Dwalin and Era were pulling them both out of the water. Fíli knew he had to thank them, he knew that there was a lot to say, but there were still goblins present. Kíli was out there somewhere. They would have to talk later.

"Do you know where my brother is?" Fíli asked urgently, stumbling to his feet. "Where's Kíli?"

"We don't know lad," Era answered. "We've had a tragedy, I think—"

Fíli looked around frantically and saw Oin and several others surrounding someone on the ground.

"Bifur," Thorin answered, a dark tone to his voice. Fíli shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts.

"Kíli was in the final stage when I last saw him," he continued, forcing grief and shock from his mind. "I thought he was dead. But…Thorin there's not much time. He was disintegrating so fast. I have the Mallos."

Something in Fíli knew that Kíli was dying. Like part of him was already walking into the next world.

But Fíli wouldn't let him go again.

The bird creature was circling above them, picking up goblins and dropping them into the water. Fíli cried out to her.

"Hey! HELLO! Please help me!"

"What is that thing?" Era cried, staring up at the bird woman. "A skin changer?"

"Fairytales," Dwalin grunted.

Fíli reached up his free hand and the creature flew close enough to hear him. "My brother, please. We have to find my brother."

Her peculiar dark eyes made him uneasy, but soon his arm was caught up in her talons and he was plucked from the shore like a weed. She flew him over the scene in circles until Fíli spotted a dark haired figure laying in the grass.

"There! He's down there!"

Without warning the creature dropped him and for the second time that night Fíli was met with the peculiar feeling of falling before he struck the ground. For a moment he laid there trying to get his breath back.

Why did she do that?

But a glance told him the reason. The bird creature dove down toward the earth, picked up the flailing figure of Gris from the scene and brought him up into the sky. Fíli watched her fly him all the way to the bank, where he was evidentially dropped into the merciless arms of Thorin and the company. With a single keening note, the skin changer did a final loop over the battle and then made for the mountaintops, disappearing into the night.

"Kíli!"

Fíli rolled over and saw the dark mass of his brother crumpled up into the grass. A bow and quiver laid beside him and flames licked the grass getting closer and closer to head. Fíli hauled himself up and stumbled over to Kíli, dragging him away from the worst of the flames until they were perched at the edge of the small cliff overlooking the river.

"Kíli? Kíli answer me."

Fíli shuddered at the dark bloodstain on his brothers chest, but sure enough there was no deep wound there. But scores and open wounds littered the boy's body and the ashy shadows of illness hung under his eyes. Fíli grabbed his hand to find that Kíli's nails were black as ink.

"No, no no please."

Fíli opened his hand, finding an assortment of weeds, white flowers, and Mallos still in his palm. He grabbed the Mallos and wrenched Kíli's mouth open, forcing them into his mouth.

"Come on, Kee."

He's already gone.

Fíli felt for a pulse but none answered him. He pressed his finger firmly against Kíli's throat and gasped with relief to find a small, weak drumming there.

With some effort, Fíli used the water reamed from his tunic to wash the Mallos down Kíli's throat. He held him up in sitting position so he wouldn't choke and wrapped his arms firmly around him.

"Stay with me Kee, please stay with me."

No thunderclap can wake the heart,

That's fallen to the sleep.

No weeping love can stem the start,

Nor remedy of herb and art,

Can release the devil's keep.

Without golden flower's mend,

Devil can't be slain.

And in the dark his hand extend,

And taken then, to mark the end.

To never wake again.

"Fíli!"

Thorin and Dwalin approached, horror playing on their faces. Fíli realized then that he was crying.

"He's not waking up," Fíli sobbed, "I don't even know if he's breathing. I gave him the Mallos but he won't open his eyes."

Thorin and Dwalin knelt down, eyeing him carefully. Thorin took Kíli gingerly from Fíli's arms and laid him in the grass, listening for a heart beat. The look he gave Dwalin made Fíli's heart sink. He looked down and saw the mix of plants he grabbed from the river. The white flowers seemed to glare at him and then he remembered.

He remembered the story of Snow Dragons and their medicinal qualities that Lia and Tristan had found when they were children.

"Give him these," Fíli offered, thrusting the flowers at Thorin, "They're supposed to help. Please."

Thorin raised an eyebrow but didn't argue, crushing the flowers in his hand and coaxing them down Kíli's throat. Dwalin watched silently, his face stoned against emotion.

"Well?"

"Fíli, medicine doesn't work instantly. You have to be patient."

"You may have to accept that it's too late for him, laddie."

It was with these words that Kíli coughed and let out a strained gasp for air.


Thanks for your patience! Please stay tuned, there's some solid h/c on its way!