Chapter Two

Anger swelled though his veins as Kíli marched through the forest towards nowhere in particular. He just needed to get away, cool off; he knew he didn't mean anything he had said. His exhausted mind was probably just exaggerating about everything, right? Fíli and Thorin didn't really mean all of that, right?

No, a little voice whispered in his head. It sent shivers down his spine. You know it was the truth. All of it. You're completely useless, a disgrace to the line of Durin.

"No!" He screamed at the air, at himself, at that satanic voice infiltrating his thoughts. "I'm not useless! I'm not! They don't feel that way! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HEAD!"

Silence, for now. Kíli took advantage of the moments of peace and stumbled ahead at a more rapid pace, determined to keep all of the disturbing echoes of his family's words lost in the woods where he wouldn't ever remember them again.

He sighed. He had to go back. As furious as he was, Fíli must be at least a bit worried, even if Thorin wouldn't be. Dís would miss him. She had done nothing wrong, it wasn't right for him to frighten her like this. No matter how much Thorin, Dwalin, Bifur, even Ori preferred his brother, Kíli was still loved. Bofur, Nori, Bombur, Balin, Fíli, and Dís were still there.

Right?

Just as Kíli turned to begin the somewhat long and confusing trip home, he laughed at himself for being so paranoid. Of course he was still loved. If he wasn't, why did he still have a home and a bed and a warm place by the fire and a family who could sometimes be really sweet? Fíli was probably pacing back and forth right now. His hands would be in his hair, messing with the beads Kíli gave him for his fortieth birthday as he always did when he was nervous. Thorin would be sitting by the fire with his pipe, reassuring Fíli and insisting Kíli would be home soon, trying to convince both to his nephew and himself. Dís would be locked in her room. Everyone thinks she's crying, or pacing, or sleeping it off, but she's really planning the murder of the ones who hurt her family. Kíli has seen all of this firsthand when his father died. He didn't remember the face, but he remembered the reactions. That was just how they operated at home.

But…where was home? He was in the middle of nowhere. He had no way to find his house again. The stars were blocked by the canopy of trees as it was now in the early hours of the night and the mere light of the stars were not enough to shine through the enormous, color-changing leaves. They would be of no help to him.

Tracks, of course! He must've left tracks! One cannot run off in a fit of rage and manage keep their feet light enough to prevent footprints. A smile, spreading on his face, he turned quickly, staring down at the ground to search for the signs that he had been there. The tracks didn't look quite right for a dwarf, but he brushed it off considering his boots were animal skins that probably contorted the mark…right?

The tracks lead to a large clearing that Kíli was almost certain he had never been to before, unless he was so deep in thought he never noticed. That scenario was entirely possible. He entered the grassy area with caution, staring intently at the ground, set on somehow finding his way back. His heart nearly stopped when he looked up.

An entire camp was set up there, animal skins laying out on the rocks and a fire cracking in the middle. It would have been fairly normal had the weapons sitting out not been made of dark, bloody metal and the foul smell of orcs poisoning the air was petrifying. Kíli knew what it was. It was one thing to stumble upon an orcish camp in the middle of dwarf territory, with bloody weapons, no less, but the thing that really chilled his blood and shook his bones was when he realized what the tracks he had been following belonged to.

And why were there fresh footprints for him to follow directly from himself in the first place?

He quickly grappled for his sword in the sheath in his panicked state of mind and ripped it out, whole body shaking. His hands still ached from the day's intense practice and the sword felt heavy in his hands, but he knew that if the orcs knew where he was, if they were following him, he would have no choice but to use it. His bow would be irrational here. Kíli was sure that he would be able to take down a few orcs, especially with all of their weapons left at their campsite, but all hope escaped through his shaky breaths as one of the 'rocks' he had seen earlier began to rise.

Needless to say, it wasn't a rock.

The giant warg bared his teeth at the unwelcome visitor interrupting his slumber. It rose off of the ground only it's strong legs and let out a long, low growl. It's thick gray fur was stained with dark red blood that looked too fresh for comfort. At the sound of the angry warg, it's friends perked up from where they laid and showed off their teeth, standing to join their companion. Kíli counted six in total. Six wargs must have six riders. If only Fíli was here. As much as he hated to admit it, all of the comments he had been told for years were absolutely correct. Fíli was the superior in almost every sense, he would know what to do.

The first one launched at him before he remembered he was in a potentially dangerous situation. He swung his sword and it slashed its jaw, causing it to stumble back a few paces while the next one pounced. Kíli knew he could not fight all of them, but when he dived to the side and stabbed the beast right through the middle, dragging the blade down instead of pulling it out, he felt as though he stood a chance.

With one as good as dead and another momentarily incapacitated, Kíli was feeling very good about himself until he tried to focus on a third monster. It raked out with its claws and he blocked the attack with his sword, slicing the paw of the beast which was sent limping away. As he was focused on finishing the job, he didn't notice a warg circling behind him until it had already pounced, throwing itself into his back and knocking the breath out of him.

The wargs weren't exactly light, and when Kíli landed on his stomach he heard a sickening crack as a pain erupted suddenly in his chest.

It must be the ribs, he could hear Oín in his head.

He struggled to turn himself around, cradling his ribcage as the monster on top of him pulled out its claws and began ripping into his first layer of clothing. The huge talons easily demolished his thin armor he had the sense to put on before rushing into the forest, and he felt them begin to rip into his skin. He squeezed his eyes tightly, determined not to cry out as he weakly reached for his sword and stabbed it through the creature's neck, pushing it off of him and stumbling to his feet.

Kíli's survival instincts kicked in. He knew he wouldn't last long with the intense bleeding like this. He needed binding and cleaning to prevent it from becoming infected. He needed Oín here.

The remaining wargs circles him, getting closer and closer as he held his sword up, wincing at the movement.

He needed Fíli.

_.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._

Kíli's predictions were spot on. Fíli paced nervously back and forth from Thorins chair to the fire and back again. He subconsciously reached up towards the golden braids in his hair and quickly found the silver and bronze beads his brother had made him almost forty-two years ago. He stopped his movement and all but collapsed on his chair in the dining room and laid his head down on the table, never releasing the beads from his grip.

Thorin knew he should say something but he didn't know how to comfort his nephew. He knew he would be blamed for anything that happened to the lad's little brother, understandably, but the King knew that Kíli had been holding this in for years and needed to let it out. If not, the inevitable explosion would have far more casualties.

"Fíli-"

"Do not try to justify your actions, Uncle. If he is injured or worse I shall never forgive you." The heir looked over to his uncle, fury raging through him, but he sighed and resumed fiddling with the beads. "I shall never forgive myself."

This was not right. Thorin knew that if this was anyone's fault it was his, Fíli had no control over it. Oh, why had he been so foolish? The entire time during training Thorin was only trying to make Kíli better, he hadn't realized how much he had been pushing the lad. He made a mental note to always listen to his nephews after this.

"Whether you will listen to me or not, I know he is strong and he will be fine. I have no doubts he will return by morning, if not sooner. If for some reason you still wish to venture after him at noon, alert me and I will be happy to assist you in your search. Until then, get some sleep." The king stood and stormed to his room. He didn't mean to sound like he didn't care; he had actually begun the sentence hoping to console his nephew. Now look at what he'd done.

It seemed as though Thorin broke everything he touched.

Sighing, the dwarf ran his calloused hands through his hair and laid back on his bed, allowing his eyes to close.

"Thorin? Thorin! Wake up!" Two strong hands gripped his shoulders and lifted him up and down repeatedly. Gasping, Thorin sat up quickly, pushing away the hands and opening his eyes. Fíli stood before him, weapons in hand and armor glinting in the sunlight. Sunlight? How long had Thorin been out?

"It's almost noon. There is no sign of Kíli. I'm going after him." Fíli refused to make eye contact with his uncle, who was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "You can join me if you care enough."

Suddenly wide awake, Thorin stood and glared at his nephew. "Have you assembled a search party?"

Fíli nodded sheepishly. "Nori and I have been looking since dawn. We haven't found anything."

"Be off then, we need to find your brother." Thorin attempted to give the lad a comforting smile. Fíli returned it briefly before racing out the door to continue the search.

Thorin grabbed his boots and his armor. He didn't know what to be prepared for, but he had a sick feeling in his stomach that should he find his nephew, it would not be on friendly terms. He feared for the worst as he grabbed his favorite and best sword, Orcrist. Swinging it into a sheath, the dwarf king set out closely behind the prince. He had so many things to do; find Dwalin, get a party together, decide where to search, and on top of it all, he didn't even know if Kíli wanted to come back.

Thorin cursed himself and trudged forward into the village, towards the healers. If someone knew where Kíli was, they would be there.