I'm back! I am so sorry about the wait; it's been almost a month! I truly am sorry, but I've been really ill for the last couple of weeks and though I've been trying to write it's been so hard. Thank you all for your lovely reviews, they really are so helpful. Thank you in particular to Hermione Granger, Kililover01 and I Just Won a Free Toaster Oven, to whom I could not directly reply - thank you all sooo much!

In regards to the competition winners, I will try and get your stories done before Christmas or at the latest New Year if I can, though I may have to ask a few more questions :)

Right, this chapter isn't my best but I'm just getting back into the swing of things. Please forgive any mistakes.

Read. Enjoy. Review.

Chapter Seventy Five # Shadows #

A loud clunk accompanied the opening of the door and Ióni could just about bring himself to look up at who was entering. Shame and guilt burned in his stomach at the sight of the king himself and the feeling only grew as Lord Balin followed. A guard Ióni did not recognise was the last to enter, and the door was bolted behind them.

A single candle on the wall was the only source of flickering light, and Thorin Oakenshield looked nothing less than murderous in the darkness. Ióni averted his gaze and stared down to his hands. They were bound together and the coarse rope was starting to tug away at his skin now. A heavy chain had been locked through a ring on the end of the rope, effectively chaining him to the floor lest he try to fight his captors, or even run.

Ióni had no intention of running or fighting. He was beaten, utterly defeated, and he knew it.

"Who are you?" The first words from the king's mouth were twisted with bitterness and disgust.

"Ióni." He replied softly, well aware that the only name he had ever known would likely not be enough for the dwarf king.

Sure enough, Thorin ground his teeth together. "What is the name of your father?"

"I don't know, your majesty." He murmured.

"Oh? And how is that?"

"I was born inside of a prison. My mother was a thief, I am told."

"I see. What was her name?"

"I believe it was Hilde."

"You believe?" the king scorned.

"I was all of five years old when I left the prison and was moved to the orphanage, your majesty. I barely remember her." Ióni explained, his sorrow seeping into his tone by the end of the sentence.

"I am not here for your sob stories, boy." Thorin warned, and Ióni glanced up to see fury smouldering behind Thorin's eyes. "Your crimes are not the sort that can be excused because you had a difficult start in life."

I know, Ióni wanted to say, but he thought it might make matters worse so he returned his gaze to his bloody hands. What he would give for that blood to be his own, and not Finni's…

"Have you lost your tongue?"

Apparently respectful silence wasn't helping. "No, your majesty. I do not ask for my crimes to be excused. I know what I have done."

Thorin stepped closer and Ióni closed his eyes.

"And what are your crimes, exactly?" The king demanded.

Ióni closed his eyes. Finni would want him to fight, to show a little more spirit in the face of such callous adversity, but Ióni was done fighting. He was not Finni. Finni was gone, and Ióni wanted to pay the price for that. "Treason. Burglary…"

"You think to leave the attempted murder of one of my closest companions off of your list?" Thorin's voice was as hard as ice.

"And attempted murder." Ióni amended softly, though he could not help but add, "But that I did unwillingly. I did not want to hurt anyone."

"What about the thirty one men, women and children that bled and died not two hours away from the mountain? What about the twelve children that were slaughtered on their way to the Iron Hills? The infants now limbless, still trapped in the Healing Halls? What of the orphans and widows and widowers and parents who can no longer claim they have a child? What of them? They were hurt, by you and yours." Thorin spat.

Ióni raised his confused eyes up to the king's, meeting Thorin's glare for the first time. "What? That… that had nothing to do with me!"

"Oh, did it not? The same group of traitors to which you have confessed to belonging hired the goblins and orcs that ambushed innocent travellers. Children, babes in arms were slaughtered on the road because-"

"No, that wasn't us…." Ióni shook his head even as his blood froze in his veins. Lord Balin had mentioned the attacks after the fight, but Ióni had not connected the dots – his mind had been far too muddled with losing… with Finni… with… "It was just random, a random attack-"

Thorin lunged forward with the grace of a lion, slamming his hands onto Ióni's shoulders. "You think you can fool me with wide eyes and a stammer as if you are an innocent child?"

Ióni shook his head. The conspirators, they could not have been involved in the atrocities that had rocked the mountain so! They would have realised, surely Ióni and Finni would have realised. "We weren't involved-"

"Lies!" Thorin shoved him roughly back into the chair and dull pain spasmed through his shoulders.

Ióni relished the feeling while it lasted, for he knew it was deserved. "I swear to you, your majesty, if there were dwarves involved in any way with those attacks I did not know it!"

Thorin gave him the same look you would expect to be given to a piece of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

"Say we believed you," Balin spoke for the first time. "What did you think would happen with the explosive you were carting around? You cannot expect us to believe you thought no one would get hurt…"

"They're for effect, dramatic effect!" Ióni said, even as doubt began to claw at his heart. "They were not supposed to hurt anybody."

"Either you are an appalling liar or as stupid as an ass." Thorin's eyebrows were raised patronisingly.

Ióni swallowed but did not reply, turning his eyes back to his hands.

"You say you had no intention of hurting anyone yet you were in a group of traitors willing to harm anyone who happened to stand in their way. You must be aware that their ultimate goal was to kill the king and taking my life seemed to be your first thought when you saw me coming towards you."

"I understand that it doesn't make sense." Ióni replied hollowly, managing to meet Balin's eyes. "But we were only doing what we thought to be right."

"What you thought to be right?" For the first time, Thorin Oakenshield looked a little shocked, though he quickly recovered his scowl. "If you do not wish to lose a limb I highly suggest that you elaborate."

For a moment, Ióni was silent. If Finni was in this seat, he would likely refuse to give answers to anything. Finni would never give into a tyrant, not even if they bled him dry. But Finni was not in this chair, and it was Ióni's fault. He deserved all the punishment Oakenshield could deal him.

"We came with no intention other than that of forging an honest life for ourselves. In the Iron Hills our names were tainted by our mothers, and we heard that those in the Lonely Mountain would be given a new beginning – that those with petty crimes or criminal relatives would be treated with as much respect as those without as long as they worked as hard. It was too much for us to resist, but not two weeks after we arrived we were told that it was all a lie."

"Who is 'we'? And what 'lie' do you speak of?" The king interrupted his lifeless explanation.

"Finni and I. We were told that Lord Dain had sent records of the criminal ties of anyone who had left the Iron Hills – they showed us documents too, proof of it. That was how they found us, actually. Our names were on the list – mine for my mother and Finni for both his parents. Then they showed us the plans for the Criminal Labour act." Ióni could feel the fury that had burned in his stomach at the injustice of it all trying to make itself known again, but his grief was numbing every emotion but itself.

"What plans do you speak of?" Lord Balin frowned heavily.

Ióni would have rolled his eyes had he not felt so numb. "They showed them to us, the documents, in your writing, your majesty. They were taken from your room along with the plans of the journey of the princes."

The king and lord exchanged a glance. Balin was the first to answer. "What exactly did these plans entail?"

Ióni sighed shortly. The Act was not common knowledge, but he had not thought the king and lord so petty as to pretend they had no knowledge of its existence. "The Criminal Labour Act? It's the plan to move all criminals – and those associated with them – into the hardest laborious tasks with little pay as soon as the richer folk arrive. The homes will have already been renovated by the poor, who will be kicked out with the criminals and loaded into the poorer areas of housing. That is why Finni and I joined the rebellion. Good people have moved here with the belief that their past may finally be put behind them and within years they will be forced into a life that is little better than slavery!"

Anger was finally managing to equal the grief by the time Ióni finished. He could still see the utter heartbreak in Finni's eyes when he had found out that he would not be able to escape the legacy of the scum he was forced to name as his parents.

Neither the king nor the lord said anything.

Ióni stared at them and ground his teeth together. How could they simply stand there? How were they not burning in shame? Did they care nothing for the troubles of those whose lives they deemed lesser than theirs?

"You should not make promises you do not intend to keep. Folk get angry when they know they've been conned." He could not help the mutinous mutter that left his lips as he glared at the pair of callous dwarves before him.

"You should not be so quick as to take the words of thieving traitors over those who spilled blood, sweat and tears in the reclamation of a city that has welcomed you with open arms." Balin returned grimly. "Folk get angry when they know they've been betrayed."

Ióni's eyes narrowed as he felt a faint blush colour his cheeks, but this time he was able to hold his tongue.

"Balin." The king whirled around without a second glance at Ióni and stormed outside.

The Lord, on the other hand, lingered for a moment. Ióni felt guilt burning in his heart at the dwarf's gaze – this dwarf he had tried to kill, this dwarf who had let him try and help Finni – but he could not break his eyes away until Balin turned himself, walking out of the room and leaving Ióni alone.

Thorin's mind was racing at about a hundred miles an hour as he turned to Balin. "That traitor looked as though he believed what he said."

"Aye, and it makes sense, Thorin." Balin said pointedly. "If the conspirators behind this whole saga have been spreading lies like that it would explain why most of them are lads – young folk are always ready to get up in arms about something and they seem to be targeting the most vulnerable. But a Criminal Labour Act?"

"They had such systems in the far east, in ancient times, though their names were far less civilised, as were their practises." Thorin's trained composure prevented the grimace that wished to show at the thought of some of the unsavoury practises of some of the clans in times of old. "Anyone who was so unlucky as to have a criminal relative would find themselves enslaved for life."

"Those who come from Ered Luin will know full well that such an act would never be your intent, but others will be easier to sway." Balin worried. "Those lads were acting upon poor information-"

Recognising the tone of his friend's voice, Thorin cut him off with a raised eyebrow and sharp tone. "They tried to kill you Balin. No prelude, no cover, merely an attack."

"Aye, but even as they charged they seemed to regret it." Balin pointed out.

Thorin did not even bother to mask his groan. "Balin, that traitor in there is not a lost orphaned animal you can take in. He will pay for his crimes-"

"For trying to help those less fortunate than him?" Balin retorted. "If that was really his intent, and I'm inclined to believe that it was, then who is to say that you or I would not do the exact same thing. He is a boy, Thorin, no older or stronger than Fíli or Kíli – in fact I would say he is less so in both aspects, and far, far more vulnerable."

Thorin's heart gave its usual clench at the thought of his nephews. It had been so long, so long since he had seen them, and with every passing day his heart grew surer that only one would return – if Dís could even convince Fíli to leave at all. "Do not compare that criminal to my nephews."

"But that's the whole point." Balin insisted, refusing to back down. There was a fire in his eyes, a fire that Thorin dreaded not only because it would always goad Balin to victory, but also because it always meant that the younger dwarf was right. "You're dehumanising him, Thorin. Speaking of him in such words, criminal, traitor makes him appear less of a dwarf, but if we examine his crimes he has done nothing other than try to protect himself and his loved ones, if in a dishonourable, misguided manner."

"What do you propose we do with him then?" Thorin knew that by playing along he was entering a dangerous game, but the truth in Balin's words was ringing clearer with every second.

"Rehabilitation." Balin spoke without a moment's pause. So he had been thinking much of this then – Thorin was doomed. "We house him in jail for the time being, but in decent conditions, and during the day we let him work in the mines."

"Is that not slave labour?"

"Not if we pay him."

"Pay him?" Thorin's eyes bulged from his head. "Why in the world would we pay him?"

"To show the others that there is a way out, and that their king cares just as deeply for the low born as for those fortunate enough to have money."

Thorin shook his head. "If I were to send a message like that, I would want to let it be known that there was a way out for those who do so before they hurt anyone."

"And then what of those who already have? Who think that they already have? There will be some who believe themselves guilty for crimes they have had nothing to do with – should they linger in the midst of it all for fear of death or worse? Thorin, this may be the best way to combat the treason at the very heart of it." Balin insisted.

"I would rather just see them hang for their crimes." Thorin mutter mutinously.

"Thorin," Balin hesitated. "You know what it is like to be branded a criminal by association alone."

Thorin paused, and silently allowed Balin another point. "I do. I also know that forgiveness is a dangerous thing to throw around."

"Your forgiveness is harder to earn than that of most."

"That dwarf tried to kill you. Had he succeeded I would be speaking to your grave and the city would be in mourning." Thorin said pointedly. He paused. "Balin, I cannot pardon that dwarf for his crimes, however young he may be."

"I am not asking for a pardon. I am asking for what he was promised. A second chance."

"He threw his second chance away."

"I am not disagreeing with you, but had you been in his position what would you have done?"

"I would not have betrayed my king." Thorin glowered at the insinuation.

"Would you not have? If you believed that Dís or Dwalin or myself would slave away under a heartless hypocrite for crimes we had never committed? If you believed Fíli and Kíli would starve because their grandparents had committed crimes they were not even alive to witness?"

Thorin stayed silent. Loyalty and honour had always been deemed so important in his eyes, but which one truly took priority? Should you be loyal to your king or you kin?

"Thorin, trust me. I am not asking for him to be pardoned or given an easy way out. He would have to work hard and his pay would be less, but he would be given a chance to redeem himself."

Thorin stared at the door to the room where the traitor remained. "And what if he lies?"

"I am not saying we will not look deeper into the matter. But you cannot afford to forget that most in the mountain have never lived under your rule before. They know of you only by reputation and for some of them that reputation is the Gold Sickness. Our progress is good, but rulers who are excessively severe win no loyal subjects, only fearful ones. Fear breeds nothing but hate and rebellion, especially among our kind."

"Too stubborn for our own good." Thorin muttered, half to himself.

He looked back to the door and pursed his lips. No amount of logic could cool his fury that the dwarf in the cell had tried to murder one as close to a brother as him, but he knew all too well that good decisions were never made while anger blazed through your veins.

"Very well. Do as you will with him."

Balin smiled that sheepish, coy little smile of his that Thorin loved and loathed in equal measure. There was nothing funny about the subject matter, but Balin had won and he knew it.

Without another word, Thorin began to walk away.

"And where are you going exactly?" Balin called after him.

"To find Glóin." Thorin replied, his shoulders rolling in anticipation. "I would be seeking Dwalin, but he is currently incapacitated. I need to hit something…"


As his home finally disappeared out of sight, Kíli took a deep breath and wiped the tears from his face. It was done now. They were off. He turned his mind away from what he was leaving behind and cast it instead into the future. It would be nothing less than wonderful to see Thorin and the rest of the company again. A small smile twitched across his face.

"What are you thinking, Kíli?" Fíli raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Oh, only the look on Thorin's face when he sees just how many hobbits are heading to his mountain."

Fíli snorted and then laughed aloud, causing Merry to crane his neck around to frown worriedly at Kíli. "Why is that funny? Will he not like us?"

Kíli snorted himself, ruffling Merry's hair. "Of course he'll like you. He just won't be expecting quite so many of us to be coming back. You'll have to be on your best behaviour when you meet everyone so that you give the right impression."

Merry narrowed his eyes. "Your best behaviour or Baggins manners best behaviour?"

Kíli and Fíli exchanged a look and grinned. "Well…"

"Boys, if you spend all your time corrupting innocent children, one day it will backfire." Nori called casually from behind them.

Kíli turned to look over his shoulder. "Oh, will it? I see no negatives to having an army of pint sized minions…"

"Oh it most certainly will. I made that mistake with Ori."

"Ori?" Fíli frowned. "How on earth has Ori backfired on you?"

Nori grinned evilly. "Do you think you have secrets, Fíli?"

"Everyone has secrets." Fíli replied slowly.

"Not from Ori. He told me about the incident in that little village on the river Lune…"

"What?!" Fíli yelped, his cheeks flaming instantly. "How did Ori know-"

Kíli whirled around in. "What is he talking about?"

"Yes Fíli," Dís called from the front without even looking over her shoulder. "What is he talking about?"

"Nori, I am going to skin you alive."

"Blame Ori."

"I'll make a coin purse out of your-"

"Fíli!"

Fíli coughed and glared a chuckling Nori. "Sorry, Amad."

"Don't you 'sorry Amad' me, Fíli. Tell me this story Nori speaks of."

Fíli sighed. "We were in a town of men called Lhûnil that lies upon the bank of the Lune river, escorting a groups of merchants, and Ehren, Alfr and I got a little drunk."

"A little?" Kíli raised his eyebrows. "How drunk is a little?"

Fíli glanced to his mother's back. "Well… let's just I was worse off than you were in Lake-town."

"Worse than me?!" Kíli grinned even as his stomach curled slightly with embarrassment.

"How drunk did you get in Lake-town?" Paladin joined the conversation with no small amount of curiosity.

"He drank seven pints." Bilbo said mildly.

"Seven?!" Esme cried, her eyes alight with glee. "Did you offend anyone?"

"We're not talking about me, are we Fíli?" Kíli blinked innocently at his brother, who shook his head.

"No…"

"What happened?" Merry piped up curiously when Fíli trailed off.

"Tell them, Fíli."

"Nori, I swear on Kíli's life-"

"Hey!" Kíli protested, grinning.

"Fine, fine!" Fíli threw up his hands in defeat, only to return one to Pippin's shoulder when the little boy gasped in surprise. "I somehow consumed enough alcohol to make myself believe that it would be a good idea to run through the streets singing rather loudly…"

"I heard that there was also some nudity involved."

"That's a lie!" Fíli insisted fiercely. "Although I might've… ahem… I might've been missing my tunic."

Dís groaned as Kíli, Bofur, Esme, Saradoc and Paladin roared with laughter. "Fíli…"

"That's not all of it, though, is it?" Nori edged.

"No…" Fíli grumbled.

"Well?"

"I began to explain very earnestly to Ehren about the benefits of being a horse instead of a cow. Then I fell asleep in the old model boat on top of the inn."

"Why would you do that?" Nelly wrinkled her nose from the front of Nori's pony as she called above the laughter. "Is that what ale does to you? Can I have some?"

"No!" Kíli ordered in unison with both of the girl's parents, his own mother, Bilbo, Fíli, Esme and Saradoc.

Nelly made a face. "How come?"

"It's not for children." Bilbo said firmly in his very best end of conversation tone.

"Why not?" Merry looked back at Kíli with a cheeky grin on his face.

Kíli grinned back and turned the child's face forward. "Because Bilbo said so and that's that."

"Ow, Pippin – hang on. Ah, ah – no not there, Pip! Oh, Mahal!" Fíli cried as he dropped the reins to his pony in order to remove the hobbit child who was attempting to clamber onto his head.

Instinctively, Kíli held out a hand to steady his brother. "Pippin, what on earth are you doing?"

"Nothing!" came the sing-song reply as Fíli lowered the little boy back down onto the front of the pony. Instead of sitting still, Pippin wiggled around until he was facing Fíli, apparently unaware that with all his wiggling the only thing preventing him from tumbling all the way to the ground was the dwarf's hand. "Fíli?"

"Yes, Pippin?"

"Where're we going?"

Fíli looked taken aback. "Where are we going?"

Pippin nodded sombrely. "Where?"

"Do you ever listen to anything, Pippin?" Nelly called. The girl was now hanging over Nori's shoulder, not that the dwarf seemed to mind. "We're going to Erebor to live with the dwarves."

"Oh." Pippin's face furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

Kíli glanced up at Paladin, who was shaking his head in dismay.

"I don't know where he gets it from, I really don't. It must be Ellie's side of the family. A cute lad, but no brains at all…"

Ellie made an indignant coughing noise. "I think you'll find that my family is very clever – as is Pippin. He just lacks an attention span and any common sense."

Grinning, Kíli glanced at the toddler. He liked that assessment. None of his babies were stupid.

"Don't wanna go to Err-bor." Pippin protested, his little voice piping above the others. "I wanna see –see the trolls! The ones, the ones that Kíli made into stones!"

Bilbo looked over his shoulder and wrinkled his nose. "You want to see the-"

"Oh, let's go and see the trolls!" Frodo cried in delight. "Will they still be there, do you think?"

"I should certainly hope so. Nasty things they were." Fíli gave a mock shudder. "You don't want to see the trolls, Peregrin Took."

"I do!" Pippin stuck his bottom lip out and widened his eyes and Fíli instantly looked away.

"Did you teach him to do that?"

"Do what?" Kíli asked innocently.

"No puppy dog eyes. Ask my mother." Fíli told the child without looking at him.

"We'll see about trolls when we get there." Dís called from the front. "And not a day before, am I understood?"

A chorus of agreement rose up among the travellers with varying levels of enthusiasm. Kíli, for one, would like to see the trolls again, but he could understand Bilbo's trepidation. It was hardly the nicest of memories.

They continued on, their conversations light as the sun began to pass through the sky. They stopped for luncheon shortly after midday, which the children appreciated even more than the adults – some of them had been rather indignant at the revelation that second breakfast would not be a regular occurrence on the trip.

That was worrying Kíli a little. The little ones – however loyal and enthusiastic they may be – were very young. By nature they were generally cheerful and mild mannered, and while they were just as mischievous as their elders they rarely pushed the boundaries too far. However, travelling was hard. It was exhausting, gruelling and sometimes scary. It could be cold, wet, miserable and boring, and not one of the children had travelled even as far as Bree in their lives. Even the mildest of children would be expected to moan a little on such a journey as the one they were undertaking – Kíli just hoped that there would be as little reason as possible for any of the children to get upset.

Unfortunately, the first tears of the journey were shed on the first day, when Pippin woke up from his afternoon nap. For the past several weeks, Fíli's arms had been Pippin's usual napping place, so he was a little confused when he opened his sleepy eyes to see a pony instead of an armchair below them both. It did not take him long to remember that they were going to Err-bor, the place that his dwarves would all sing songs about, and he huffed. Err-bor indeed.

Why all the dwarves couldn't just come to the Shire and chase the bad men away with big sticks was beyond Pippin. It would be so much simpler. Oh well. Adults were mystifying at the best of times and there was never much use in trying to figure them out. There were more important matters to attend to – he needed to use the bathroom and he really needed Meggie. His fingers reached out for his trusty little dog, but they reached only air. He frowned. Meggie was always tucked in his lap when he napped. So why wasn't he there now?

Oh, of course! Merry was going to carry him in his big pockets in case Pippin dropped him.

"Merry!" he called, his voice mangled by his yawn. "Merry, can I have Meggie now?"

Merry's eyes widened and he began to pat frantically at his pockets, before turning around to Kíli. "We need to go back! I left Meggie on the bed! We need to go back!"

Pippin gasped. "Merry left Meggie?"

"I didn't mean to!" Merry said quickly. "I promise Pip, it was just a mistake, I'm sorry!"

Pippin blinked. "Meggie's still at home? We've gotta get Meggie!"

"Pippin," Fíli's gentle voice came from behind him. "We can't go and get Meggie."

"Why not?" Pippin let his eyes fill with the nasty, prickling tears. He needed Meggie. "He needs me!"

"Because, if we go back and get him he won't be able to go on an adventure himself!" Kíli replied quickly.

"What adventure?" Pippin sniffled.

"He's going to Erebor too, but it's just going to take him a little while longer…"

All in all, it took Kíli three hours to weave a story tight enough to satisfy Pippin. By that time the adventure that the stuffed animal would be taking seemed more epic than the Quest for Erebor by far, and while the toddler was not amused at the thought of his favourite toy remaining at home he finally accepted that saving the entire race of the pushmi-pullyu was more important than helping one little hobbit to sleep. Kíli had never had to make up an entire species to calm the boy before, but then again he had never had seen Pippin separated from the battered dog the boy called Meggie despite Nelly's insistence that Meggie was most certainly not a boy's name.

To his credit, Pippin made little fuss when they tucked him into bed with Frodo, Merry and all three of his sister's in the room the kindly Mrs Nooks had leant them for the evening, and as the days progressed the child asked less and less after his beloved toy – though he certainly moped far more than usual.

During the Shire the journey was easy, since they were never short of a friendly roof over their heads – the Baggins' reputation was far and wide and some of those who lived furthest away had decided to wait in their own homes rather than walk all the way to Hobbiton to see the travellers' off.

Despite this, Kíli felt uneasy. It was a sneaking feeling at first, and one that was not helped by the visits from Ned, the ranger. The man had returned to Bilbo was three others and a sealed note from none other than Gandalf himself, stating that they were rangers trustworthy enough to bring Sindri and Frár to Erebor. Every few days, Ned or one of his companions would catch up with the travellers to assure them that all was well. Kíli could tell that none of the other dwarves completely trusted the man, but that was not what troubled Kíli.

Kíli did not know what kept making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and that was what worried him the most. It was as if they were being followed, but there was never any sign of anyone else but them on the road. No one else seemed to have noticed anything off – if they had they were keeping it to themselves.

And then they left the Shire.

The first night of camping went appallingly, and no one got more than a couple of hours sleep. The next day and night were filled with stifled yawns and quiet, brooding youths, but by the third night some sort of routine had been established.

Kíli stared at the fire absently as he sharpened his knife. They were two weeks into their journey now, and already he was becoming more alert once more. The shadow of doubt in his mind was always stronger in the dark, and he cast his eyes over his large group of sleeping companions once more.

A faint rustling met his ears and he looked up intently. The sound grew louder and the whetstone was gently lowered to the floor. A shadow flickered over the trees as Frodo emerged from behind one of their trunks.

"Frodo Baggins!" Kíli hissed, almost dropping his knife in surprise. "What on earth do you think you are doing?"

The child froze, staring at Kíli with the wide, terrified eyes of one caught doing something they should not have.

"Here, now!" Kíli pointed at the ground near his feet, not wanting to raise his voice. He clasped his hand onto Frodo's arm as soon as possible and tugged the child gently closer, forcing the boy to look at him. "You know better than to go off into the dark on your own! We are not in the Shire anymore, Frodo, and I am not sure what might creep in the shadows. Not only could there be danger, but if you'd startled someone else on watch you could've been hurt – threats are hard to judge in the dark. What were you doing?"

Frodo licked his lips, glancing over his shoulder. "I just needed to go to the toilet-"

Kíli's blood ran cold. "Frodo, I have been on watch for almost half an hour, I would have seen you get up. Are you lying to me?"

The little boy swallowed and looked down at his feet. "I…"

"Frodo!" Kíli shook the boy slightly.

"I don't feel very well," Frodo whimpered, meeting Kíli's eyes once more. "My tummy hurts and I had to be at the toilet for a while."

Kíli narrowed his eyes. "Why wouldn't you wake someone?"

"I didn't want to be a nuisance." Frodo admitted miserably. Now that Kíli looked, the boy was cradling his stomach. "I just wanted everyone to get sleep and… I'm sorry."

Sighing, Kíli massaged his temples. "No, I'm sorry. C'mere." Reaching out, Kíli manoeuvred Frodo carefully into his lap. "I'm sorry, little one. You just scared me, that's all. Do you feel any better now?"

Frodo nodded.

"Good," Kíli kissed Frodo's curly head. "Now, go and try to get some sleep. Tell me if you feel any worse in the morning and do not go out in the night like that again, alright?"

"Alright, Kíli." Frodo whispered back, hugging him tightly for a long moment before scampering off to lie down beside Dís. Her body sheltered the child from Kíli's view entirely, explaining why Kíli had not noticed the absence sooner.

The fire began to die and Kíli paused once more. Reaching across to his brother, he pressed a finger to Fíli's lips and tapped his face gently. Fíli's eyes flickered open and blinked the grogginess away almost immediately, without saying a single word.

Using what little Iglishmêk he knew, Kíli tried to communicate silently with his brother. "Something wrong maybe. I search. You watch."

Fíli frowned, reaching towards his knives but Kíli shook his head.

"Not bad. Little wrong."

Sitting up, Fíli nodded shortly, grasping Kíli's forearm tightly and making one sign the younger knew very well. "Be safe."

Kíli grinned and nodded his promise, before slipping quietly into the trees. They had already scouted out a place for a toilet, as they always did. It was one of the less glamourous aspects of travelling, but if the females among them were not complaining, Kíli supposed he had no right to.

There was no moon that night, and the darkness was almost absolute in the forest, even in so short a distance as that between the camp and their makeshift toilet. That did not bother Kíli too much, but the moment he stepped into the small clearing a shiver ran down his spine and he put a hand on his blade.

He was not alone.

Swallowing, Kíli remembered the way that Frodo had reacted to his parents' death. The threat of the stranger, apparently Frár, had been enough to terrify the poor little boy to the point where he would not even tell his closest family of what had happened. It did not take much to scare Frodo to silence, and why would it? He was just a child…

A disturbing scenario played out in Kíli's mind, and he pictured Frodo getting up in the night to relieve himself. He imagined the little hobbit shuffling those few short feet through the trees into the smaller clearing. Then Kíli imagined a faceless stranger emerging from the shadows and he had to stop his imagining there. If Frodo had been hurt…

Something was moving in the shadows and it did not want to show itself, but it would not have much of a choice.

Kíli would be damned if he let anything scare his little Frodo like that ever again.

And there ends this chapter.

I'm sorry it's not excellent. I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless. On another note, I HAVEN'T SEEN BATTLE OF THE FIVE ARMIES YET AND IT'S KILLING ME! No spoilers please :P

Please do leave a review if you fancy, it would really make my day. Thank you :)