Child of the Shard

He woke so cold he could barely utter a word. Every inch of his skin, where is had been hot with fever the previous night, was now trembling with the undeniable frigid nature that now filled him. It was agony. He had been told that a person's preference of season came from the time of year in which they were born. Thranduil, therefore, had always assumed that the prince had been born in the summer, as he had always had a doubt towards the snowy times. Kili barely had the strength to shiver. He blinked several times, trying to find some source of light, but everything became dim. The dying dwarf fumbled with his hand, trying to pull the sheet from his eyes. His frozen fingers found nothing. Was he blind? No. He couldn't be. Still in his terrified sickness, he could see the vague outlines of the objects in his dark room. He saw his uncle sitting next to him. He found the corner of the room, and the entrance to the balcony. His heart slowed its beat as something in the corner caught his eye: a dark shadow, the size and shape of a man, a man he recognized but couldn't name.

"Soon," the darkness hissed from the corner. Kili tried to cry out, but his throat was almost closed and he croaked instead. "We shall see soon whether you will turn the tides. We may have lost our hold, but we still have you." There was something unnatural in such a voice, and he had heard it before. The prince knew he had. He repeated the words, moving his lips as best he could, trying to make the words make sense by saying them aloud. The shadow seemed to laugh at him. "You have forgotten what you were taught. You'll remember soon enough."

But the moment the figure blended in with the night and disappeared, the prince drifted back into dreams, and the experience was all together forgotten.

~:~

He woke so sore he could barely move. The place where the shard resided in his skin felt worse than ever before, as if he were still being stabbed. His bones ached, and his joints were swollen. Bright early morning light seeped from the entrance off the balcony. Some sort of distant voices could be heard, but he didn't care what they were talking about. Kili wanted to fall back into sleep, but was soon interrupted when his caregiver came back of the balcony, and noticed him blinking.

"Good morning," Ori chirped, round eyes looking somehow eager and frightened at the same time. "Is today a good day or a bad day?" It had become almost a little game between the two dwarves. Every time the scribe was given care over his former friend, he insisted on greeting him with that question. At first, the prince had tried to be optimistic which, in a way, ruined all the fun. Slowly, as his illness progressed, the positive attitude became harder and harder to achieve. Finally, one evening Kili snapped and answered 'It feel like someone is using my innards to jump rope, how do you think my day has been?' So became the tradition. Ori would ask his question, and the sick dwarf would try and use the most disgusting description for whatever pain he was feeling. Fili had never understood, as he was always too concerned for the true health of his brother. The scribe was easily disgusted and easily impressed, so he made the perfect partner.

"Well it must be a bad day, Ori," the dark-haired dwarf replied. The skittish one started to smile.

"And why is that?"

"Because it feels like someone removed all the muscles from underneath my skin and then stuffed them back in, but in all the wrong places," Kili explained, grinning. His friend made a face.

"You're vile," the brother of Ri accused. The other dwarf tried his best to shrug without moving any part of his core.

"I try my best." Ori walked over to the chest of drawers and starting filtering through the contents of the top compartment.

"What are you looking for?" the curious patient asked. The scribe muttered something inaudible, before slamming the drawer shut.

"It's official," the shier dwarf announced, throwing his hands up in the air for emphasis. He continued before Kili could ask a question. "Oin was right. He used the final dosage of kingsfoil last night when you were having fits."

"Fits?" The young prince could not quite comprehend such things. Before he had been discovered in Mirkwood, he had simply assumed that anything he didn't remember was unimportant. In the Lonely Mountain it seemed to be that only the things he forgot were important. Despite the other's shock, Ori seemed unfazed by the statement.

"That doesn't really matter. What does is that the primary source of effective medicine we have has dried up. With the elves and men at our door, it looks like we won't be able to get any more unless we reach some sort of agreement. I hope that's what they're doing right now at least." The scribe took a peek through the archway of the balcony.

"I feel very out of the loop at the moment. Care to explain?" Though Kili spoke with a jesting tone around his newfound friends, mostly because he could do that with dwarves, he always used the tactic to ask the more serious questions. The more he looked back at his behavior in the dungeons of Mirkwood, he more he felt like he had acted like Legolas: pretentious, manipulative, and far too serious for his own good. Being around the dwarves, usually joking individuals, he had tried to loosen up his way of speaking, and somewhat succeeded at it too.

"Hmm?" Ori appeared to be trying to listen to something with one of the old instruments Oin used to improve his own hearing. The scribe pulled it away from his ear. "You know it's morning. What was going to happen this morning?" Kili's mouth opened slightly. The events that were unfolding were ones of very mixed emotions for him, specifically the parts he had been involved in.

"Thranduil has come to offer his deal. Bard speaks for the men of Laketown as well," he offered. Ori screwed up his face in concentration as he tried to listen. Someone in the distance was shouting something.

"We have another visitor as well. Thorin's cousin Dain arrived this morning with an army of dwarves at his back to help hold the mountain." The scribe paused as someone gave a particularly loud shriek. "It's a mess out there. Nothing I want to be involved in, of course. That's why I'm here and not there. Your brother wanted to stay, but as heir to the throne it's his responsibility to be there." Kili processed the information for a moment.

"Has the elven king announced his deal?" he asked. The brother of Ri laughed.

"No, they've really just been shouting at each other really. Such is the diplomacy of our people." Ori was interrupted from continuing when a loud horn sounded. The prince felt his chest tighten. Did that mean war? Were they all going to kill each other?

"What's that for?" he tried, but his friend shushed him, straining to hear.

"Thranduil is bringing forth his demands," he relayed. The dark-headed dwarf went deathly quiet so his watchman could listen more carefully. "It seems to be what he previously mentioned, except for the jewels. He wants a peace treaty between Erebor and Mirkwood, including trade relations with Dale. That isn't too bad. He also wants you to be temporarily removed from the mountain so as to be properly healed. After such events take place," Ori paused to listen more carefully, "you are free to make your own decision where you want to continue your life, when it is with Thorin, Thranduil or neither." He looked expectantly at Kili, searching for some sort of response. The prince stayed quiet. He didn't know how he felt. He was sure that if given the decision he would have no idea how to choose. He had betrayed Thorin by using the white gems as a trade to Thranduil, and he had betrayed Thranduil by not leaving the mountain when he still could. Both seemed to be more and more similar as he examined them closer, and he wasn't sure that was what he wanted at all. But he didn't think he could leave his family, no matter what their nature. "And Bard speaks for Laketown, desiring the share of the gold that was promised to his people, and residence in Dale until another form of shelter can be figured out."

"What's Thorin saying?" the ill dwarf inquired immediately. Ori shook his head.

"Nothing yet. Dain is taunting the elves. Thranduil is refusing to acknowledge him in any way. He says he will stay there until he receives an answer from the King Under the Mountain." A tense silence replaced the course conversation. Kili wished he could at least sit up so he could see more of his friend than just a profile. The earpiece was covering more of the scribe's face, and his reaction to what was going on was difficult to understand. The prince could now hear the familiar rumble of his uncle's voice, though the words were indistinguishable. Ori groaned.

"What?" the elf-raised dwarf requested.

"Your uncle says he refuses to even consider either of the demands, as they are all thieves and usurpers seeking to rid him of his kingdom and treasure. He says Thranduil has brought the line of Durin nothing but death and pain and that…" the scribe didn't continue for a second, more than hesitant. "Thorin says that the only way you will ever be back in the elven king's hands is if he has you executed for treason and sends Thranduil your head." Kili closed his eyes, drawing a long, painful breath. He didn't mean it. Fili told you. He can't control his paranoia. He can't control his mouth. You have to ignore it. Don't get upset. He was trying the best he could, but something deep inside his felt like it was falling apart. Thranduil would never say something like that.

"Kili, if you want to…" Ori began on what seemed to be some sort of comforting words, but was cut off as a wave of terrible commotion that erupted outside. The scribe couldn't control his gasp, and loudly cursed.

"What is it? What's wrong?" the injured dwarf begged. His friend began rapid-firing a play-by play of the events mixed with questions.

"King Thranduil demands that your uncle take the deal. He has the Arkenstone, holding it up for all to see. We didn't give him that. Did you give them that?"

"No!" Bile was slowly rising in the dark-headed dwarf's throat.

"Thorin is claiming it to be a falsehood. Fili is doing the same. Did you know about this?"

"No! I swear. Ori, I haven't been out of this bed."

"Thranduil says it is true. Bard seconds it. They say someone from within the mountain gave it to them to ensure that peace between the peoples was reached. Who could have done that?"

"Bilbo…" Kili breathed. "He left yesterday to get Tauriel. He must have found it when he was with Smaug a given it to them before he heard about our plan with the gems." The scribe dashed to the bedside table, setting down the earpiece, rushing all the way.

"I have to go get Bilbo out," Ori mumbled.

"It's not your job to be a hero. Thorin could kill you," the prince reasoned. His friend ran back to the balcony and peeked out, just as he turned to come back into the room, the brother of Ri did a double take, whirling back to watch the scene unfurl.

"Kili," Ori whispered, "Thorin isn't there. Thranduil said it was a company member who wanted peace between the peolples. Our king was already suspicious of you…He's coming here. I have to-"

"If he comes here, you run past him, you get the others," the prince instructed. The scribe's eyes were watering and caused them to look twice their normal size. "Don't worry about me. Just…" Footsteps could be heard outside in the hallway. Kili feigned sleep. "Trust your instincts," he breathed. The prince could practically hear Ori quivering as the door creaked open.

"Thorin-" the Company member began.

"Get out," was the growled response from the king. His nephew knew he should be breathing. The thought came to him as his friend scurried out the door. Sleeping people drew long, constant breaths. Instead, the young dwarf found his entire body seized up. His fingers could barely tremble as they closed around his only hope for defense. The hilt of the silver dagger was encrusted with gems, making it easily recognizable to the touch. When Oin had requested a dagger of Fili, the patient had assumed it to be for some sort of complex medical procedure, not self-defense. 'If anyone threatens you in any way,' his brother had explained, "you use this. I don't care who it is.' Kili held onto the handle for what felt like dear life as he could hear the ruler's footsteps stomp closer and closer until they stopped directly next to the bed. He dared not flinch. In that moment, neither moved.

"Two-face thief!" his uncle exploded suddenly, grabbing a fistful of the front of the prince's shirt. Kili's eyes snapped open just in time for Thorin to fling out of the bed. The injured dwarf cried out. The elder was stronger than he thought he would be, as the younger was thrown across the room, skidded on his good side, and finally came to a halt a dangerous distance away from his safe place. He shouldn't move. Fili had told him so. He could end up killing himself. Yet, as he watched his uncle move towards him, he couldn't just sit there and take another attack. Thorin strided forwards, and his nephew responded as quickly as his weak and aching body could. One hand pressed on his damaged side; the other pulled the dagger from his pocket. He attempted to push himself up onto his elbows when his muscles went stiff. He soon found himself at the mercy of the King Under the Mountain. Thorin grabbed him around the shoulder, hauling him onto unsteady feet. The prince's knees threatened to buckle. Kili called mercy, but any sort of fatherly instinct was gone from his king's face.

"What are you?" the mad dwarf shouted, dragging him further from security. The leader slammed the door shut, and used his free hand to throw the bolt across, locking the door to all outside help. The injured dwarf's heart threatened to fall out of his chest. He was relying on the door to be open for the other Company members to send help. Now they had no real way of getting in.

"I don't understand!" the younger dwarf pleaded. It felt like everything in his abdomen was being strained to the breaking point, like a rope about to finally snap.

"Dwarves don't just fall ill," his uncle spat. "We don't get sick and bedridden like some sort of weak human child." The dagger was still concealed in the folds of fabric. If the prince could only reach it for a minute… "We don't whisper odd things in the night as though they came from another mouth altogether. And we never betray our kin. What are you if not a dwarf?" Kili got his opportunity, given the chance to bend down just enough to get the dagger in his hand. He slashed at his uncle's fingers with it, drawing a slash of blood. Thorin recoiled, hissing. With a shaking hand, the prince pointed the dagger at his relative, using his other arm to support his weight on the wall. He began to feel feint.

"You don't know what you're saying," he begged, limping towards the door. He could hear dwarves on the other side of it, struggling against the weight, pounding on the weak parts to try and get the bolt to be compromised. A few shouted his name, but Kili didn't dare call back.

"Is that how you got it?" Thorin raved. The gold battle armor he wore made the king look larger than life, the metal glinting in the light. It mimicked the terrifying spark in the powerful dwarf's eyes. "Did you threaten them into giving it to you?" The ill dwarf's injury gave another terrible throb. The edges of his vision began going white. "Or did you guilt your brother in fetching for you so you could just hand it over to Thranduil?" The prince was using sheer willpower to stay standing. His hand was shaking so badly that the knife was barely pointed at Thorin anymore. When he spoke, he was quaking so much the words were almost unintelligible.

"What, doing what you have been to him for years?" he asked. Whatever logic left in his uncle snapped. He lunged. Kili tried to maneuver out of the way, but upon being put off balance, toppled to the floor. Instinctively, he curled into a ball, protecting the part that mattered most. Thorin flew over him, and tripped a few steps before regaining his composure. The prince stared helplessly at the silver dagger, which lay out of reach by his uncle's feet. The side of a battle-axe peeked through the crack in the doorframe, hacking at the bolt. The roar from outside was growing louder.

"I didn't take it!" the dark-eyed dwarf rasped, feeling as if the words were being ripped from his throat. "I didn't take it. I didn't take it. I didn't take it." He could feel Thorin pause, like a dark storm cloud swirling, unable to decide where to strike next.

"Kili!" his brother screamed through the door. The axe had been replaced with one of Fili's swords, desperately digging into the wooden obstruction. But before Fili could say any more, Thorin was upon him again. It didn't seem aggressive at first, as his uncle stepped over him and knelt. The victim tried to move, but his body was unwilling to follow his mind's instructions. The air seemed chilled.

"You're a liar," Thorin accused, barely raising his voice, "and a thief." Behind him, the bolt began to splinter at its weak point. When another voice came through the door, it belonged to no dwarf.

"It wasn't him!" Bilbo confessed. "Please, it wasn't him. It was-"

"I saw you with the she-elf last night," the royal grimaced. Kili's heart stammered.

"She came to help, to see if she could heal…" the prince attempted. The corners of his uncle's mouth were twitching.

"You gave her a leather pouch," the king explained through gritted teeth. "Inside it was some sort of heavy object, I could tell. And it was no coincidence that your would-be uncle was in possession of the Arkenstone today. You instructed you elf maid to give the package to Thranduil."

"How did you-" It occurred to Kili the moments the words came out of his mouth that they convicted him. Asking how the king saw only proved his guilty. Thorin snatched him aggressively by the neck and tore him from the ground, all the while roaring.

"How did I know? Was that what you were going to say?" Kili couldn't answer; he couldn't breathe, and it wasn't from his fear anymore. Each time he tried to draw a breath he found his body rejecting it, refusing to give him air. A terrible failing sound came from his throat and he was unable to communicate with the leader as he yelled. "I am not as blind as those who so easily believed you." The grip tightened dangerously. "You took from me my honor, my reputation, and now you dare hand over my very birthright to the filth that left us to burn!" Thorin released his grip on his nephew, allowing him to stumble backwards. The world was reeling, and the dying dwarf was unable to put it right. His legs couldn't hold his own weight, and he held on to the stump of a brazier that hung from the wall. Already he felt like he was falling. His uncle's overwhelming anger seemed to be fading into disgust.

"Please," Kili shrieked, the escaping word forcing air into his lungs. Behind his elder, the door was rattling, the bolt holding it shut by a splinter. He could see Fili reaching his arm through the crack, almost past the obstacle.

"I rather you'd died in the snow when I loved you, then survive to make me hate you like this," Thorin declared. The prince's fingers gave out the moment the door did. His brother burst throught the entrance as Kili hit the cold stone. He may have screamed. He couldn't tell. Fili definitely did.

"You promised!" the gold-haired dwarf cried, pouncing on his uncle, slamming both fists into his armor. "You swore you would never hurt him again!"

Kili felt his legs and arms go cold, and his body collapse in on itself. He saw a child with dark hair and a hollow face running through fresh snowy, tears freezing on his cheeks. He saw that child fighting to a get free from a great attacker, bleeding into the white flakes. He saw that child cowering at the knees of a great shadow. He saw that child cry out for his family as an arrow flew into his back every day. He saw that child beaten down to something lesser than any creature in Middle Earth. He saw that child lose himself in the darkness. He saw that child replaced with a shell of a person, running through trees and tripping over mossy logs as the hallucinations took their toll.

He saw that child's pain, anger, and sorrow forming around the shard as it slid loose and back towards his heart.

And then, he saw nothing at all.

AN: Thank you for reading the latest chapter of this little story of mine. I hope you enjoyed it…or threw your computer across the room, as I have had several people say they were going to do if this chapter happened. If you liked it, follow this work to make sure you get notified when I post the next chapter. If you want to share this story with other authors, make sure to favorite it. And, as always, I love to get feedback from you guys so make sure you leave a review for me to read. Until next time…