AN: First off, I would like to thank all you lovely people who reviewed, followed or favorited this story. It means so much to me! I am going to try and stick to a release schedule of a chapter every other day, but keep an eye out, as I may get lucky and put one up early. Leave a review if you want to tell me what you think! As always, I hope you enjoy!

Torches Gold Uncle

Kili ran straight to his room, the oncoming attack seeping into his body, making everything feel numb and blundering, although his heart felt like it was trying to beat out of his chest. He had grown used to the signs by now, but it hadn't happened in so long, years. Anything could really trigger it, odd things, like the first time he picked up a bow, or playing tag with Legolas as a small child, or the time that snow came to Mirkwood.

The running probably wasn't a good idea, as it was only making it harder to breathe. It was like forgetting when it happened, as if he just couldn't figure how to properly take in air. His chest was rising and falling out of control, without tempo or steady beat, the strangled sounds escaping from his throat reminding him of Thorin pressed against the tree.

Thorin…The name bounced around his head, ricocheting back and forth incessantly, repeating over and over.

Kili stumbled as he slammed the large oak door shut behind him, fumbling with the key in the lock as tears were quickly stinging his eyes. He was sure the other elves had seen him, but he didn't care. There were times when he wished he would just cease to exist, and this was one of them. Somewhere in his head, he could hear a voice, soft and soothing, conflicting with the whirlwind inside him. Before, he never understood what the healers called a panic attack. Now it was far too painfully familiar.

He could barely see, hearing nothing as the voice got louder and louder, eventually becoming one with his own thoughts and voice. But somewhere it got lost in translation, the way elvish words never sounded right in common tongue. What had been a lullaby and song in his head had become a twisted jumble of words and notes. He was barely aware as he tripped over the bedside table, falling onto his front with a crash that he almost didn't hear at all. Kili knew that struggling against it was impossible, and finally let the attack devour him whole.

Mountains misty misty far away over over

gold forgotten long find cold old, so old, the through

caverns dungeons dungeons trapped

uncle uncle uncle uncle uncle

pines fire too much fire roaring

flaming roaring burning lights gold

red spread forgotten gold long dungeons

torches

gold

uncle

The words were building to a crescendo, roaring until it was the deafening sound of a child screaming at the top of his lungs, the word uncle ringing in his ears. Just as Kili thought he would be unable to take it a minute longer, it disappeared, leaving the off-putting silence in its place. Then, someone was speaking again. At first, he thought that the voices were coming back, when he realized that this was a different person, someone known and familiar. "Kili!" He was being shaken, pulled back into reality. Kili snapped his dark eyes, and found them meeting the frigid blue ones of Thranduil. The kneeling elven king let out a sigh of relief, looking down for a moment, releasing his tight grip on Kili's shoulder.

"Uncle," Kili whispered, catching his breath, tears streaming down his face. He was twisted on the ground, cramming in between the toppled nightstand and his bed. Books and scraps of parchment were scattered all over the floor, along with a pair of silver daggers and various other leafs and miscellaneous items. Through his back and face were throbbing from the impact, he didn't think anything was broken. It wouldn't have been the first time. He began to prop himself when Thranduil looked up, laying a hand on Kili's knee. He couldn't tell whether the king was terrified, furious, nervous, caring, or all of them at once.

"You will never do that again." He was giving off intensity like heat, a heat in which Kili felt scorched. He was still struggling to comprehend what was happening, the words of the awful song still playing in his mind.

"I couldn't do anything to stop it. You know that," he pleaded. Thranduil shook his head, nostrils flaring.

"I am not speaking about that. You clearly knew the attack was coming, and yet you decided to lock yourself in your room where no one could reach you easily to help if something happened. You fell. You could have bleeding to death for all I knew. I am the luckiest creature on this planet because I had the key." He sounded so disappointed and upset. Kili opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to come up with a response, the itchy sensation in his nose warning him of worse crying to come.

"I'm sorry. I just…I didn't want anyone seeing that." Kili let his head fall back onto the side of the bed, determined not to begin sobbing. He had always hated people seeing him cry, but as he was unable to stop the steady flow of tears, stopping the heaving and ugly hysteria was the most he could do. Thranduil reached out, holding him around the shoulders, pulling him close like he was his own child, letting Kili's head fall onto his shoulder. The king was not like the other elves anymore. In the beginning he had been stern, unsure on how to deal with a dwarven child, cold and emotionless. It was different now, and Kili knew that no matter how he was related to anyone else by blood, Thranduil would be his only true family.

The King of Mirkwood staid steady, as his adopted nephew's shoulders shook, his hands working their way through his tangled hair. Suddenly, Kili stiffened, pulling away. Though he the only thing he wanted to do was stay safe there in his uncle's arms he managed to sputter out the message he should have been delivering in the first place. "Thorin Oakenshield," he stammered. At the name, Thranduil's eyes closed, his lips becoming one solid line. "We captured him and a company of dwarves in the forest. Tauriel is bringing them to the dungeons. They have been searched and stripped of weapons. But-" The elf almost flinched, an action Kili had never seen before. "When I went to remove his gear, Thorin…he looked at me like I was a ghost. He knew me."

"It does not matter." Thranduil responded automatically. As he began, there was a tremor in his solid voice, but as he continued, Kili watched his face and tone drain of all emotion of connection. "Whatever that disgrace of a creature said to you should be none of your concern."

"Uncle, are you listening to me? The entire group, not just Thorin, was staring at me. They knew my name." The king rose to his full height, making Kili feel insignificant.

"They'll be locked up and left to rot! Why do you care?" The venomous and provoked side of the king was showing, and though one of Kili's worst fears was provoking the elf, he refused to stand down.

"You're avoiding the subject!" He grasped the edge of the lavish bed, using it as a crutch to lift himself from the ground, though his aching body groaned in protest.

"Kili, sit down. You'll injure yourself further." Thranduil almost seemed irritated. But like all dwarves, Kili was stubborn and not easily deterred.

"He looked at me, and he spoke my name like he was waiting his entire life to say it again. He told me that he chose what I was to be called." Kili groped for his necklace, ripping the chain so that it hung from his fist, the bead swinging from side to side. "It doesn't just say my name does it? Does it?" He gave the chain an angry jerk, so that it shook and spiraled, almost falling out of his hand.

"You'd take the word of a greedy dwarf king over what I've told you?" Kili was so frustrated he could have screamed, and did.

"I want the truth! Not what you want to believe, or what you want me to think! I'm sick of being treated like an outsider. Everyone here knows something I don't. Uncle, tell me!" Thrandruil seemed to explode, the composure that he usually kept ripping apart as he swelled with rage, once again making Kili acutely aware of his size.

"I'm not your uncle!" He shouted. "He is!" Kili felt like he was falling into the floor again, like all his organs had collided with his ribcage. Thranduil himself looked shocked at his own words, grimacing. A moment silence filled the chaotic room, a silence that was protesting against being filler. "The bead states your status as the heir to the throne of Durin. We knew exactly who you were the moment you wandered into the halls." Kili shook his head.
"So you kept me? You hate Thorin." The feeling of betrayal was swelling like a bubble inside his chest, shoving the words up out of his mouth. Thranduil's stony face softened.

"You weren't conscious when we found you, and we were making the decision on what to do with you. By the time we were finished, you were awake, and you sat there on that cot." His voice was close to breaking, and Kili felt the bubble pop within him, replaced with a throbbing. "You looked up at me, and as a child asked me 'Uncle, are we home now?' What could I say to a child like that, innocent, hurt, and alone? I didn't care what the others thought and I told you, 'Yes, Kili. This is home.' You stared at me for a moment, and said, 'I never want to leave my home again.'" Without even thinking, Kili fell over the debris on the floor, and wrapped his arms around Thranduil's waist, hugging him as tightly as he could. He felt the elven king's long arms hold him as well, a moment that was all too rare and all too sweet.

"I was handed life in Mirkwood, as an opportunity for a different life, and I will always choose this," Kili whispered, not letting go. From his hand, he let the bead and necklace fall to the floor, where it lay with the rest of the clutter. They both took a step back, looking at the dwarf's remaining piece of his former life as it looked so pitiful and lost.

"I was meaning to save this for the festival tomorrow." Thranduil broke the quiet with a sentence just above a whisper. Kili looked up, confused, as the king stretched out a palm, revealing a bead of his own. "But I think you should have it now."

Unlike the other one, this bead was gold and lyrical, streamline, with large swirls and shaped working their way around its smooth surface. In the center, Kili recognized his own name in elvish, along with an inscription, reading "the favored of Mirkwood." He closed his fingers around it, clutching it preciously to his chest.

"Thank you, Uncle." Thranduil smiled.

"I thought it was about time for you to have a new one." Kili nodded, before bending to one knee with some difficulty. In his free hand, he picked up the fallen necklace. He rose again, pressing it into the king's hand.

"You can take this, and tie it into the lock of Thorin Oakenshield's cell. Let him know that I will not be coming to see him, nor will I ever." Thranduil nodded, even the simple action seeming graceful with the elf's willowy body.

"I want you to stay away from the dungeons at all costs. If Thorin brought on the panic attack, then you should stay away from the other's as well." Kili bit his lip.

"I don't want to see them again."

"And you won't." The dwarf opened his hand again to look at the bead, so delicate and beautiful. "Sit down," the king instructed. "I can braid it into your hair in the back, so you can wear it to the festival tonight." Kili smiled, almost sadly as he slid onto the bed, handing the bead back to his adopted uncle and turning around, relief echoing on his face. It was best that way, so he couldn't see Thranduil bowing his head and closing his eyes, as the king thought of the task he was expected to carry out.