Hello and welcome to the next chapter :) We get back to Thorin here, and this is a pretty long chapter so buckle up :P
In response to 101olive4u, thank you so much :) I'm so glad you enjoyed it and I'm happy that you liked Tauriel's reappearance. The battle happens in the book, but the separate scenes I wrote were all original takes on it, so I'm glad you liked it! Thank you so, so much, I am so grateful for your lovely reviews and compliments!
So, without further ado, forgive any mistakes…
Read, Enjoy, Review
Chapter Thirty Eight #Home Thoughts From Abroad #
Thorin trudged through the gory battlefield, keeping as far away from the healing tents as he could, checking every dwarf, man and elf for a pulse in a desperate search for survivors. Of the few living souls he had found, three had perished in his arms and he held little hope for the handful that had been taken to the healers by the other searchers.
None of the other searchers asked why the dwarf king was fulfilling such a gruelling task. They just took the bodies from his arms and carried them to the nearest healing tent without a word at the look on his face.
Thorin had lingered outside his own tent long enough to tail Kíli back onto the battlefield unseen as his beloved nephew searched desperately for the poor halfling. He had swallowed his pride and ran to Thranduil's tent himself when Nori fell, the fear of his son living in so much agony defeating his humbled pride in a matter of heartbeats. He had watched the two elves heal the poor, loyal little hobbit and he had followed them back to the tent and lingered long enough to learn that Fíli was out of immediate danger.
Then he fled back to the bloodied slopes of his mountain to continue his harrowing search for survivors. One step fell awry and he stumbled, his hand landing in something unpleasantly soft and sticky. He looked over and cried out in horror, pulling his hand out of the dead elf's eviscerated corpse quickly, frantically wiping the blood off onto his battered clothes. The elf's frozen eyes stared at the darkening sky, horror still burnt into the pale blue orbs.
As Thorin blinked, his vision flickered and blurred, and then it was Fíli's blue eyes staring at the sky in an expression of eternal anguish, and it was Fíli's chest that was torn apart and it was Fíli's blood that was covering his hand.
No! The dwarf king shook his head, blinking again until the image of Fíli's corpse fell away and his eyes saw the elf once more. Thorin closed his eyes. Oh, Fíli…
"Thorin?"
He looked up and whipped his head around so quickly that his neck protested painfully as Dwalin approached him from behind. "Dwalin..."
"Thank Mahal, I've been looking everywhere for you! We thought you'd perished." Dwalin's relief shone in his voice and on his face. "Are you wounded?"
"Minor injuries, nothing more. I was lucky. Are you?" Thorin asked, glancing at Dwalin's heavily bandaged arm with worry.
"It's broken and bleeding but I'll live." The warrior replied. "Come, we should get back to the others…"
"Leave me here." Thorin snapped harshly, standing up. "I cannot go back."
Dwalin halted in his tracks, grief and anger rippling on his face. "Oh? And why is that?"
"You know what I've done!" Thorin wanted to roar but his voice was as weak as a kitten's mewl. "I've destroyed my nephews, Dwalin! I have hurt my family, my people, and for what?"
Dwalin's face tightened, though a fraction of the tension eased out of his eyes. "You've snapped out of it then?"
"Yes," Thorin closed his eyes, too stricken to care how weak he sounded. "But, sick or not, I have done some terrible things, Dwalin. I cannot go back."
"You have to go back, you're the king! Moreover, you're the uncle to two boys who are wounded and frightened and if you don't start acting like it you'll have a line of dwarves coming out here for your head - and I'll be the first in line!" Dwalin threatened, and Thorin knew that despite his friend's relatively easy tone he was not joking.
Thorin sighed. "I do not think my presence will bring them any comfort, Dwalin. They are safer if I stay away."
"They don't need to be any safer, Thorin, they need their uncle!"
"Do not mock me, Dwalin." Thorin warned angrily. "They have each other, they have the halfling, and they do not need a violent addled fool who betrayed them less than two days ago."
"How much longer do you think they will have each other?" Dwalin demanded, his eyes flashing. "How much longer do you think they will have the halfling?"
Ice seized Thorin's heart. "What do you mean?"
"Fíli and Bilbo are standing on death's doorstep, Thorin, and Kíli is lying alone in between their deathbeds, as lost as an elf in a mountain! He knows full well that he may lose them both, and he turns to the elves for comfort because they are the only ones who can help. Do you think he will take comfort in the fact that his mother's brother skulks around the edge of the battlefield in a desperate attempt to avoid him? Do you think he will appreciate your sacrifice of being out here, keeping your distance, while he's facing his fears and pains alone? He is not the sort of lad that does well on his own, Thorin."
Thorin was silent for a moment, the knowledge that Dwalin was right lying heavily on his chest. The next words out of his mouth burnt his throat as he forced them between his lips, the unimaginable horror behind them physically hurting the wounded king. "Fíli is dying?"
Dwalin sighed heavily, grief dancing a mournful ballet in his eyes. "We hope not... But it is a likely chance."
"I do not know if I can face them," Thorin admitted, too distraught to care that his voice was cracking with the weight of unshed tears.
"It would serve you right if Kíli were to scream at you until his throat bled, but I doubt he will." Dwalin put a hand on Thorin's arm. "Come back with me, brother."
Thorin nodded, a small, sad smile gracing his face. "I will come."
"Good," Dwalin smiled, before head-butting Thorin far more violently than was friendly.
"By Durin!" Thorin yelled, jerking away to clutch his bleeding nose.
"You've had that coming for days." Dwalin smirked.
"I suppose I have..." Thorin admitted, a sick feeling swooping into his stomach as he thought of his despicable actions.
His best friend - his brother - nodded in satisfaction before throwing his good arm over Thorin's shoulders and drawing him into a one armed hug for a long moment. "Let's go."
They strode back to the healing tents together and Thorin tried to ignore the numerous stares he received on the way to his own tent. The first person he saw when he entered was the elf, Elladan, who had agreed to help him and was now conversing with a female healer Thorin did not know. The king's eyes swept over the numerous beds set out and his throat caught as he observed the injuries of the company.
Bofur was either asleep or unconscious, his face tugged into a constant expression of pain, though his chest rose and fell regularly. Bifur was sitting next to him, his face battered and bruised, and the axe-ridden toymaker often glanced over his shoulder at Bombur, who was moaning softly, his closed eyes flickering as he slept restlessly with an ever growing blossom of blood on the white bandage around his head.
Glóin's head was similarly bound, but the banker was awake, his hands running over his axe as his haunted, wary eyes searched the tent for danger. He relaxed slightly when he met Thorin's eyes and bowed his head slowly.
Thorin nodded and swallowed.
Ori was on the bed next to Glóin, whimpering slightly in his sleep while Nori watched over him from the next bed with haunted eyes. Thorin's broken heart crumbled a little more as he realised that the battle would have robbed the innocence of the youngest three members of the company, and he prayed that Ori's nightmares were not as bad as his own dreams always were. It was with faint surprise that Thorin realised that Nori was actually perching on Dori's bed to watch over his little brother, and the thief's hand was entwined with his older brother's as Dori slumbered on.
Óin was up and about helping the injured, as was Balin, and the latter viewed Thorin and his brother with relief.
"Thorin..."
"Balin," Thorin swallowed, determined not to choke. "The company...will they live?"
"Mahal willing, yes." Balin hesitated. "But Thorin-"
"My nephews, where are they?"
"In the back." Balin sighed heavily. "I sat with them awhile, but Kíli insisted that my help was needed elsewhere."
Thorin nodded, gently pushing his way into the back of the tent and freezing. Bilbo was the first one he saw, and guilt flooded Thorin's heart as he took in the halfling's unconscious body. He fiercely prayed that Bilbo would survive as his eyes flickered over to Fíli. The terror in Thorin's heart doubled as he saw how pale and weak his eldest sister-son looked, and his eyes drifted over to poor, innocent little Kíli who was huddled up on a bed in between the other two beds, his head on his knees. A small table stood in the corner of the tent, holding several jars, a jug of water, several candles and three candlesticks – two silver, one pewter – and an uneaten bowl of food. Thorin knew exactly who the abandoned meal belonged to, and his heart broke a little more.
Thorin swallowed. "Kíli?"
Kíli looked up quickly, his eyes flooding with relief and tears. "Thorin?"
Thorin's own eyes filled with tears at the sound of Kíli's wounded, frightened voice and he swallowed again. "Kíli, I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry-"
The king broke off as Kíli leapt to his feet, launching across the room. Thorin did not flinch, well aware that he deserved any blow Kíli could deal him. Confusion and surprise filled the king's exhausted mind as Kíli threw his arms around his neck instead, pulling him into a fierce hug. Despite the fact that he knew he did not deserve such a loving gesture from his betrayed nephew, Thorin could not stop himself from holding the lad close.
"Kíli-"
"You're alive..." Kíli whispered, his arms tightening even further. "I thought you were dead..."
"I'm not dead..." Thorin whispered, daring to push his luck and tighten his own grip on his nephew. "Kíli, I am so sorry. My actions have been inexcusable and unjustifiable, and I have hurt you deeply. I am so sorry..."
"I'm still angry at you," Kíli sobbed, his fingers wrapping around Thorin's hair gently. Thorin could feel himself taking Kíli's weight as his nephew leant on him. "Very, very angry. Oh, I'm so glad you're alive, Thorin!"
"You should be angry..." Thorin admitted brokenly, though his aching heart felt a little relief at Kíli's other words. I'm so glad you're alive, Thorin… "The things I have done, gold sick or not... I will not beg for your forgiveness, Kíli. I cannot beg for something I do not deserve."
Kíli sniffled for a moment, before speaking quietly. "I do not want to forgive you so quickly for what you did... You are very right in saying that you hurt me. The sickness is no longer in you, though, is it?"
"No," Thorin whispered in shame, holding Kíli a little closer. "No, it is not. The sickness is gone."
"Good," Kíli sniffed, his grip shifting but not loosening. "Thorin, I have already forgiven you."
Thorin froze, his voice no more than a whisper. "What?"
Kíli pulled away gently to make eye contact with his uncle, keeping his arms on Thorin's. Tears had filled Kíli's brown eyes, but he spoke with conviction, no matter how weak his voice was. "It's what family does, isn't it? I can't forget what you've done, and I am still angry, but anger only leads to hate and suffering. I'm about as good at holding grudges as Fíli is at climbing trees... I've already forgiven you, Thorin."
"I...I do not deserve your forgiveness..." Thorin stammered, utterly confused and completely unaware of the tears streaming down his face.
"You saved Bilbo, you went to the elves..." Kíli insisted, and Thorin laughed sadly.
"It does not make up for what I did to him."
Kíli shook his head. "Well you have my forgiveness, anyway... ...you saved Bilbo, and you regret what you've done. I can see it in your eyes...I forgive you, Thorin."
"How can you be so tolerant, so merciful…?" Thorin whispered in wonder. "You are a much better person than I am, Kíli..."
"No I'm not..." Kíli protested, his eyes filling with tears. "I'm childish, and selfish and-"
"No." Thorin said firmly, putting a hand on Kíli's face. "You are young and afraid. There is a difference."
"Iola thinks they're going to die, Thorin!" Kíli whimpered, the tears he had been holding back breaking free as he looked back at Bilbo and Kíli. "They say I should pr...prepare for..."
"Hush, now," Thorin swallowed, taking Kíli back into his arms again and feeling the tension ease away from his own muscles as Kíli melted into his embrace.
"But what if-"
"If is a strange word, Kíli." Thorin said automatically, his voice trailing off as Kíli sobbed. "Kíli, I understand if you don't want me to-"
"Stay," Kíli begged without moving from Thorin's embrace. "Please..."
"I will stay." Thorin promised, his eyes falling on Fíli. "I will stay..."
The flap of the tent fluttered open and Balin looked in, smiling slightly at the king and the prince. "Thorin, Dain wants to know when you will be ready to hold council."
Thorin paused. Well, if that was not typical timing…"Tell him I will hold council when my nephew regains his strength and I am sure that Bilbo is well - would you also spread the word that Bilbo is no longer exiled? Just in case..."
"Of course, laddie." Balin smiled, looking satisfied. "I'll keep them all off your back for a while, Thorin. Kíli, the healers are demanding that you get some sleep. Óin's threatening to pour a sleeping draught down your throat."
Kíli nodded weakly and Thorin bowed his head at Balin. "I will make sure he sleeps, Balin."
Balin nodded with another small smile and left the room, and Thorin gestured to the bed. "I will stay, if it is your wish."
"I'd like you to stay." Kíli nodded, squeezing Fíli's hand and then climbing into his own bed, facing Bilbo, though his eyes did not close.
Thorin understood the young dwarf's fear. "They will be here when you wake."
"If they...if one of them..."
"I will wake you if either of their conditions change." Thorin promised and Kíli nodded, swallowing, though he still did not close his eyes. Hesitantly, the king reached out to stroke Kíli's dark hair, relaxing when Kíli closed his eyes almost immediately. "Sleep, Kíli. It is safe now..."
Kíli sighed softly, a sound that sounded almost like a sob, and Thorin swallowed. Slowly, the dwarf king began to hum, memories of another night spent on the slopes of Erebor making themselves known and stabbing Thorin in the heart. Not three weeks ago he had hummed until Kíli slept under a starry sky, soothing away the young dwarf's fears with a little lullaby. This time, no lullaby could sooth the hurt and terror assaulting his nephew. Thorin could hope only to calm the lad to sleep and pray that the nightmares left Kíli alone. The tent began to darken as the sun set outside and Thorin Oakenshield hummed on, weaving dwarven lullabies into the Shire melodies Kíli had sung and whistled himself on happier days, though this time Thorin's inclusion of the hobbit tunes was intentional.
Ever so slowly, the tension began to seep away from Kíli's muscles, until finally Thorin was certain that his nephew was asleep. He tried to continue his humming, but he broke down, the sound stuttering and dying as Thorin bowed his head. The weight of his grief upon his heart crushed the pain and horror that always followed battle into a painful mess of tangled emotions and desperate sorrow and made it hard to breathe without sobbing like a babe.
When did you become such an old soul with such deep regrets? A mournful voice reminiscent of his sister begged of him, and he closed his eyes, his fingers shaking as they continued to comb gently through Kíli's hair.
When I began to make mistakes that destroyed the ones I love…
Thorin took a shaky but steadying breath, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling.
Please, Mahal, let them live, let them all live, oh please…take me if you must, but do not take my sons, please do not take my sons from me…I could not survive such a blow, not again, not when it's my fault… oh Mahal, please…
His prayer ran through his head again and again and again as if there was nothing left in the world but those words, until finally Thorin found that he could not even see Fíli so close in front of him and he supposed that he really should light a candle. Carefully untangling his fingers from Kíli's mane of hair, Thorin slipped between the two beds and stood up; making his way through the dark towards the small wooden table he had seen earlier. Fumbling his way to the table, Thorin realised that there was no tinderbox there and he cursed almost silently. He had never liked matches, most dwarves did not, but he was not sure that he could even find a match in this blackness.
With a sigh, Thorin made to return to the larger, main area of the tent, but something stopped him short.
"Stay, please…I'd like you to stay…"
Thorin could not break another promise to Kíli, not even to find a match or a tinderbox. Instead he reached down and fumbled around in the dark until at long last he finally found a small leather bag beneath the table that contained several matches. When he was finally able to light a candle, he instantly reached for the pewter candlestick, unnerved by the entrancing glow of the two more expensive silver sticks.
Never again, he shuddered.
A soft whimper arose from the darkness behind him and he turned, holding up the candle and basking the small room in its soft glow as Kíli moaned again, his face contorted in the hideous expression of one imprisoned in the horrors of a truly awful nightmare. Even as Thorin started forward, Kíli's fingers began to curl and his legs and arms tensed.
"Kíli," Thorin tried to make his voice sound soothing, but if anything it made things worse, and all of a sudden Kíli flew into a thoughtless frenzy.
Thorin was at his nephew's bedside in seconds as Kíli began to toss and turn, guttural cries and pained screams wrenching themselves from his lips as the memories of battle grasped his mind. The dwarf king knew well the terrors that plagued the nights after battle – it had taken him years to be able to get them under control and even now he still suffered many a night with nightmares of the wars he had seen. Suffering in silence was still suffering, after all.
"Kíli, Kíli, shh…" Thorin rested the candle on the floor and knelt by Kíli's bedside, resuming his previous stroking of the young dwarf's hair. "Wake up, lad, wake up. It's over now, it's over now, the battle is won. Wake up, lad. Wake up."
With a sharp gasp Kíli's eyes flew open and he looked up at Thorin. The horror was still emblazoned onto his eyes and Thorin wanted to wail with the injustice of it all, but instead he just smiled sadly.
"Thorin…" Kíli swallowed, and Thorin nodded.
"I am here. Nothing will harm you now."
Kíli nodded slowly, seemingly assured by the promise that Thorin would die to keep, and looked over at his brother and hobbit before flopping back onto his pillow with a groan and closing his eyes. Sleep took Kíli quickly this time, and he did not dream of wars and warriors.
This time Kíli dreamt of a hole in the ground, a nice, warm, safe hole in a land of emerald green grass and blissful peace… He dreamt about the giggling children who were always darting around the place, and he dreamt of Merry clinging to his back and declaring happily that there was no better place in the world.
He dreamt of Paladin shaking his head and smiling wryly, playfully scolding Kíli for some small crime while Esme rolled her eyes behind her brothers back and Saradoc snuck behind them while they were both occupied and stole a plate of biscuits or some such thing…
He dreamt of life and laughter and love and he forgot about darkness and desolation and death.
Then Kíli woke up.
It was light when he woke again, and when he looked up he could see Thorin's pale, determined face staring intently at Fíli with a heavy frown on his face. Kíli's heart began to beat quickly and he looked over, but Fíli's chest was rising and falling evenly. Thorin made a small noise as he realised that Kíli was awake, but Kíli searched for Bilbo before he addressed his uncle, speaking only when he was content that his father, too, was breathing.
"Thorin…Is it morning?"
"Aye…" Thorin nodded, standing up slowly.
Kíli realised with a small twinge of guilt that Thorin had been perched on his bed for the entire night. He did not even want to think about how painful the dwarf's back must be. Then his uncle's previous actions came back to him, and though he had indeed forgiven Thorin – in a manner of speaking – he did not feel guilty at all.
"Is…is there anything to eat?" Kíli asked tiredly.
"Here," Thorin instantly reached down to the side of the bed and passed him up a small plate of bread and butter.
"Thank you." Kíli said automatically, before tearing ravenously into the soft white dough in a way that would get him clipped around the ears by Daisy Took.
"You did not finish your dinner last night." Thorin remarked and Kíli shrugged, finishing his mouthful.
"I was not hungry."
Thorin nodded, correctly sensing that Kíli was not in a particularly chatty mood.
The tent flap flew open and Óin sighed in what appeared to be relief at seeing Kíli sitting up.
"So you're finally awake, lad?"
Panic flared in Kíli's heart and he glanced at Fíli. "How long was I asleep?"
"It's nearly noon. Do not worry, Kíli, both your brother and father are doing very well." Another voice added as Elladan slipped gracefully into the tent, ducking at the lower ceiling of the smaller compartment. "Here, Elrohir passed these over to me this morning."
Kíli gasped softly as the elf pulled several letters from his sleeve and he reached for them before he could stop himself, the plate that once held his bread clattering to the floor, forgotten. "Thank you!"
"It is my pleasure, Kíli." Elladan smiled, before addressing Thorin. "I will take my leave of you now, but I will be back before nightfall to check on their injuries if I may."
"Of course, thank you." Thorin nodded, but Kíli's attention was already on his letters.
The moment Elladan and Óin left the room, Kíli tore open the first envelope, a strange sense of bittersweet comfort flooding his body as a letter in such brilliantly familiar handwriting tumbled into his lap.
Dear Kíli,
I'm going to pretend that they have a lack of paper in Rivendell, and that is why you wrote only to Esme and Merry and added our names onto the letter as an afterthought – that's right, I can still see right through you, Kíli, even when you're so far away. You're luckier than I us, I suppose, because even as I scrawl this quickly I can see my sister and Saradoc are both busy with letters of their own so you'll get far more letters back than you sent - assuming the elf reaches you in time, which he seems to think is unlikely. The girls, Pippin and Merry have also enclosed their own 'letters', though you'll be lucky to read that chicken scrawl.
I truly hope that you're safe and happy and that the dwarves are treating you and Bilbo well, and I cannot stress enough how much I pray that they're the family I know you've always wanted. Of all the people on this earth, you are definitely one who deserves to be happy. If they are mistreating you in any way, there's not much I can do about it apart from telling you to get your sorry dwarven backside back here, where you'll always belong.
That being said, there's something very important I have to tell you Kíli, because I can guarantee that neither Esme nor Saradoc will, and it won't even pass through the children's wildest dreams:
If you're happy with the dwarves where you are, don't return because of us. If you want to live with your kin then by all means do it, because it would be just like you to live here to avoid hurting anyone. Sometimes you have to be selfish, Kíli, and make decisions based on what you want to do. I can't guarantee that the others will understand, but we all want to see you happy. Don't mistake my meaning – it would upset me greatly if you chose to leave us permanently, but you need to make your own decisions. We'll survive without you if that is your wish…
Truth be told, it is not the same with you gone, Kíli. Nothing has changed, per say, this is the Shire, but still it's not the same. I hope that you'll find it in your heart to return, either for a visit or to live, but I do not want to pressure you into doing something you'll regret.
Right, now Esme is glaring at me because I'm the only one who has not finished writing, so I must finish here.
Good luck, Kíli, and be safe.
Your big brother,
Paladin.
Kíli smiled to himself even as the tears clogged up his throat as he re-read Paladin's words again and again.
Your big brother…
That had always been a joke between the two of them, a joke not even Bilbo was really privy to. Paladin had always seemed older, though Kíli had soon grown bigger, and the difference between their real ages with the addition of the fact that they were not related to each other in the slightest had always made the whole situation delightfully confusing. Nevertheless, the hugely simplified term of 'big brother' still meant the world to Kíli, and he mused over how different his relationships with Fíli and Paladin were.
With Fíli, their bond was stronger than the earth itself. Kíli did not know how to explain it as such, but Fíli was so big a part of him – Fíli was everything. He was protective without being stifling and he was such a constant, reassuring presence in Kíli's life that the fear he could lose Fíli now hurt Kíli just as much as the fear he could lose Bilbo. Paladin was the big brother he always imagined big brother's to be - friendly, teasing and supportive, but occasionally annoying and over cautious. In many ways his brotherhood with Paladin was far more conventional.
With a soft sigh, Kíli turned to his next letter. He did not really see the use in analysing his own relationships – he knew all that mattered was that he appreciated them.
You don't know what you have until you lose it…
Kíli pushed the voice to the back of his mind. I'm not losing Bilbo, I'm not losing Fíli, I won't, I won't!
The next letter was far, far shorter, but the handwriting was just as distinctive and Kíli smiled.
Dear Kíli,
I am sad you are gone when are you coming back I miss you lots and it's not the same and I want to play hide and seek with you so when will you be home? And dont forget you said youd bring presents and thats important but please be home soon because I miss you lots!
Lots and lots of love
Pearl
Kíli's smile grew as he glanced over Pearl's little mistakes and onto the barely legible handwriting of her younger sister.
Hello Kíli,
The dwarves should give you back now.
Love Pimpernel and Pervinca
Pervinca's name was tacked onto the bottom with a little drawing stick-hobbit-lass, complete with curly hair, though even that was far easier to understand than little Pippin's letter. Evidently, the three (no, he was four now, Kíli reminded himself) year old boy had insisted on doing his own letter, which was why Kíli had a page full of scribble that was covered with a small inky handprint.
Automatically, Kíli slid his own hand over Pippin's little handprint, feeling more tears rise unbidden to his eyes as he fumbled for the next letter.
My dear Kíli,
It was so good to receive your letter; I've been waiting for some word from you for a while. I thought you'd have written sooner, though I suppose that being on the road must make it a little difficult to find messengers…
Now, to business. I miss you horribly, Kíli and I sincerely hope that this journey is a short one so that you can come back home soon. It's not that I'm not happy you've found your blood family, I am, and I'm elated for you, but still. You're our family as well, don't you dare forget that! Paladin seems to have got it into his thick skull that you might not be coming home – may I remind you that you promised Merry that you're coming back? That being said, I'm worried that the only reason why you would not return is if something happened to you –
Don't you dare let anything happen to yourself, Kíli Baggins; I do not want to traipse all across Middle Earth to drag your good for nothing backside back home but I will if I must. Seriously, Kíli, be safe. I don't want to imagine how horrific it would be if something were to happen to you, but I am not as naïve as a good hobbit lass should be (as you well know) and I know what is out there, outside our borders. Be safe, Kíli, so that you can return to us in one piece. You know I have never been one for fussing, but I shudder to think of the things you could come across on your travels and I pray that your dwarves will look after you and keep you and Bilbo out of harm's way – life without you is difficult enough now.
Well, I suppose I should catch you up with my riveting life here in the Shire? Merry took your words to heart and has caused me more mischief in the past few months than he ever has before. Two frogs ended up in Saradoc's bed the other day and he screamed so loudly that Dudo Baggins ran around thinking that I had hurt myself. Oh – I can't believe I almost forgot - Peony had another baby! The little lad is absolutely adorable and his name is Minto. He looks just like his mama, the lucky lad, but he has Milo's white blonde curls already. Mosco and Moro dote on him, but little Myrtle is adamant that he only arrived to spite her and Milo has no idea what to do with a jealous five year old girl; he's more hopeless than you are with a pair of knitting needles. It's all quite adorably hilarious.
Right, I shall have to go now in the hopes that this messenger will reach you in time. Be safe, Kíli, I need my baby brother to be alright.
I hope you return soon, with love
Esme
Kíli smiled softly, the taste of the salty tears tingling in his mouth as he read over Esme's letter. Much like his relationship with Paladin, his friendship with Esme was rather complicated, but just like his relationship with Paladin it was normal for him and it was easy. Saradoc was the same – as he had told Fíli, they were his siblings as much as Fíli was.
Kíli missed them all, so, so much.
Despite everything that was going on and every horror he had been subjected to over the last few days, he still found that he found joy in the fact that Milo and Peony had welcomed another babe into the world. He recalled meeting Milo, and the way that within a few short hours, the frightened child had been clinging gleefully to his back.
I wonder if I'll ever get to meet Minto, Kíli mused sadly, folding Esme's letter in half and placing it carefully to one side, taking a deep breath before reading the next letter.
Dear Kíli,
It is so good to finally hear from you, I'm so glad you're well. I've been a little worried, truth be told, but I hope you're alright and that nothing too terrible has occurred between my writing this letter and your receiving it.
I'm sure that Esme will catch you up with all of the news of the place so I won't bother (not that there is much to say, I would wager that your life has been far more exciting than ours.) Esme is doing well, she worries (though she denies it) but she is still enjoying herself immensely teaming up with my rouge of a son (I know what you did there, Kíli Baggins, and you will pay for it!) and tormenting as many living souls as she possibly can. She goes to the tree fairly often – don't worry, I am making sure she doesn't stay grown up for too long.
Paladin is well, too, and we've been making our way around all the bars and pubs in we can, it's a great game. Merry usually comes with us, though he always falls asleep by the third pub. He really isn't the best substitute for your place, Kíli (and that is about as sentimental as I am going to get, so appreciate the fact that I wrote that)
My parents are well, as are Daisy and Adalgrim… Old Odo Proudfoot's a little ill, but we think he'll be fine too. Our house seems to have become the home away from home for half the children in Hobbiton since you told Merry to be chief mischief maker, but truthfully I don't really mind.
Take care, Kíli, I will see you soon.
Saradoc
Wiping his eyes, Kíli could not help but smile when he thought of Saradoc reading the letter aloud himself. After Esme and Paladin's thought provoking sentimentality, Saradoc's light humour and teasing tone was just as heart-warming for Kíli – indeed in some ways it was more comforting as it seemed so natural, so normal…
The last letter tumbled into his lap and Kíli took a deep breath before slowly picking up the paper marked with Merry's childish handwriting.
Dear Kíli,
I want to write this letter all by myself so I'm sorry if it's very wrong. I've been a very good boy and I've made lots and lots of mischief like you told me to but it's not the same. I miss you, Kíli? When are you coming home? Have you met any elves? Or goblins? What about ents?
I hope you're not hurt. Papa worries that you're hurt lots I think, but he won't tell Mama that - he only tells Uncle Paladin when he thinks I'm asleep on his lap when they take me to the pub. Are you hurt? Is Papa right? Uncle Paladin never says anything back when Papa asks, he just sighs and goes quiet and then he changes the subject completely. It scares me quite a lot. Uncle Paladin's more quieter than usual nowadays, and Mama doesn't laugh quite as much. Papa often goes all quiet and thoughtful too, and there's no one there to tell him 'thinking's dangerous, Saradoc' because that's your job and no one does it. This is why Mama can't write this letter for me – she'd lie to you but I won't.
We need you to come back, Kíli.
Pretty please?
Lots of love,
Merry
PS – did you like your present? I'm still looking after your bow all nicely, I promise!
Shuddering as his battered heart broke a little more, Kíli dropped the letter and grasped at his neck, searching desperately for the leather thong that was still lying against his skill, relaxing only when he felt the smooth wooden medallion in his hands.
"Kíli?" Thorin asked quietly, and Kíli looked at his brother.
His true brother, his brother by blood…
Maybe Kíli did have three brothers, but one of them lay dying and the other two were a world away and Kíli had never felt so alone. His eyes drifted over to Bilbo, his Bilbo, his father and he moaned softly, dropping his head into his hands.
"Kíli?" Thorin's voice held a little more panic and Kíli raised his tired, sorrowful eyes up to Thorin's.
"Thorin?"
"What is it, Kíli, what is wrong?" Thorin all but begged.
"I want to go home."
Just a quick note about this chapter: some of you may be disappointed that Kíli forgave Thorin so quickly and did not massively yell at him or anything. My reasoning behind this is that Kíli is simply too drained and too afraid to hate anyone at the moment – he is still furious with Thorin and he has not forgotten Thorin's actions, but he accepts that the sickness played a part because he wants to believe that he's not alone even with Bilbo and Fíli the way they are. You can still be angry with something even if you've forgiven it (I believe, anyway) and Kíli's anger will return later when he is less tired and more secure in his environment, but for now Thorin's all the family he's got.
I really wanted to write Kíli screaming at Thorin, but I couldn't. I hope this works alright instead.
Also, the letters were HORRIBLE to write. Trying to get several distinct voices while not sounding too modern or butchering the characters…urgh. Anyway, I hope they're okay for you all!
Thanks for reading, leave a review if you fancy :P
