Summary: In which there is a mighty battle, and we bid a fond farewell to canon, and send it on its way with hugs and kisses and chocolate and flowers.

A/N: BoFA in the book is like 5 pages, I think. Apparently PJ feels this deserves 45 minutes in the third movie. I have decided that if PJ is going to overweight it, I am going to underweight it. Like, a lot. Pls forgive me, k thnx.

(And sorry to those to whom I still owe a reply from the last chapter - there are a few. I will get to them, I promise, but tonight was my one free night and it was either post this, or answer comments, and this won.)


After so many days spent inside the mountain with naught to do but search for a treasure that Bilbo knew would not be found, the frantic pace of war preparations proved to be quite unsettling, and there was nowhere to go to escape from it. Thorin had gifted him with a small mithril vest, and Bilbo felt alternately ridiculous wearing it and terrified that it would prove necessary. The dwarves too were clad in armor, of a much fiercer sort, and they had availed themselves of the best weapons to be found in the armory. The clash of steel on steel was ever present and quite disconcerting; it gave Bilbo a headache no amount of tea could ease.

"Again!" he heard Dori say, tone grim, and Bilbo saw Ori pick up his sword and attack his brother with unusual fervor.

"He is not meant for fighting," Nori said from off to the side, where he sat surrounded by daggers of every shape and length, honing them to edges so keen, Bilbo could scarce focus his eye on them. "Any dwarf will answer a call to battle, of course, but Ori is meant to be among his quills and books, not on the battlefield." He looked very imposing even as he sat there, half-armored with his heavy helmet at his side, and his beard and whiskers braided into points as sharp and fierce as his daggers. The honing stone whistled as it kissed the gleaming edge of the blade beneath his fingers.

"Ori does not seem to agree with you," Bilbo said.

"Aye," Nori said with a scowl. "He would not admit it, even to himself." Then his gaze slipped sideways and his frown grew deeper still. "He is not the only one unprepared for battle."

"No," Bilbo said with a sigh. He stood in silence for a moment, watching as Dwalin, glowering furiously, sparred with Kili.

"Watch your feet, boy," Dwalin said after a moment, as he stepped back to let Kili regain his balance. "You think swordwork is all about your hands, but it's your footwork that matters most."

Kili nodded, eyes narrowed in deep concentration, and came at Dwalin again, but even Bilbo's unpracticed eye could see the hesitation in the younger dwarf's movements.

"He should have been training him his whole life," Nori grumbled. He had put down the first dagger and started in on another. "Bad enough that we neglected Ori's training as much as we did, but at least he knows the basics, and he's a fair cop with a slingshot. Kili's had naught but a few weeks practice with a sword, and with Fili for a teacher!"

"Fili seems quite an excellent teacher to me," Bilbo said, stung a little on Fili's behalf.

"Oh, aye, he's good enough, for someone his age," Nori said. "But he's never seen battle himself. That Thorin kept Kili's training to dagger and bow ... pah!" He spat out a wad of something foul and viscous and brown, barely missing Bilbo's feet. "The boy should have been taught proper dwarf weaponry, no matter what tradition said was proper. If Dwalin was too much of a thick-skulled coward to do it himself … well then, Dori could have done it. Not half as good a job as Dwalin, but good enough. He's strong, Dori is. You think him fussy with all his braids and his fancy tobaccos and his teas, but he's the strongest dwarf here. He could have trained the boy."

Before Bilbo could reply to this rather remarkable statement, Dori (who did, now that Bilbo looked closely, possess some rather remarkably large biceps) knocked Ori to the ground. Nori sprang to his feet, muttering obscenities, and hurried over to where Dori, spluttering, was helping a somewhat dazed Ori to his feet. A loud argument ensued among all three Ris, and if volume could stand as a proxy for ferocity, Bilbo mused, Ori must be the most ferocious of the lot.

He watched Kili and Dwalin spar for another few moments, feeling a dull unease at the thought of the upcoming battle, for who knew what the outcome would be? The best that could be hoped for — and so he did, fervently! — was that they would all emerge alive and whole, but surely they would not all escape unscathed, not with the goblins and wargs in such heavy numbers.

"A few more times, laddie," Dwalin said. "And then you should eat something. You'll need all your strength in the morning." Bilbo wondered if the gentle undertones he heard were only his imagination. But no, there, Dwalin reached out to adjust Kili's grip on his sword; their hands touched, and Dwalin did not flinch away. Progress of a sort, Bilbo thought, but oh, so very late.

Dwalin and Kili resumed their sparring, and Ori was fighting Nori now. All at once the clanging of the swords was too much for Bilbo to take, for he could not help but imagine his friends facing fiercer, less friendly opponents on the morrow. Fretfully, he hurried away, searching for a quiet place in which to gather his thoughts, which could not help but race at any thought of the upcoming battle.

"But Uncle," he heard as he padded silently through the halls of the mountain, "he is not ready. You know he is not ready."

Good manners would call for Bilbo to leave before he overheard what was meant to be private, but most of Bilbo's manners had been left behind in the Shire, and those few that remained had been rather thoroughly trampled by the dwarves, who cared little for niceties (though oddly, they were rather keen on proper forms of address). So Bilbo did not leave as he ought to have (though he did suffer a nasty pang of conscience about it), but rather crept closer, hiding behind a tall pillar, very conveniently wide enough to hide an eavesdropping hobbit.

"And what would you have me do?" Thorin asked. He sounded very tired, Bilbo thought. "Send him away? Forbid him to fight?"

"Yes!" For his part, Fili sounded quite exasperated. "Send him away with the burglar. He is scarcely any more prepared!"

Bilbo was, for a brief moment, quite offended at this perceived insult before his senses returned. He felt lightheaded and jittery then, for there had been an instant when he had been on the verge of barging in to demand to take his place among the Company on the battlefield! He leaned against the wall, heart thumping ferociously, wondering if he had gone altogether mad, for surely nothing else could explain this lapse of all reason. A hobbit on the battlefield! It was madness indeed to even think of such a thing.

"I cannot send him away," Thorin said gruffly. "You know it as well as I."

"I do not know that! Uncle, he will be slaughtered."

"Enough!" Thorin no longer sounded tired; instead, he sounded furious. "He has slain the dragon! He has found the Arkenstone! He has more than earned his place among us! I cannot deny it to him."

"You are his shemor!" Fili exploded. "What is the point of it, if you cannot use it to keep him safe?"

There was silence for what felt like a very long time. Bilbo peeked cautiously around the pillar, but all he saw was the two dwarves perched upon mounds of treasure, wearing matching frowns.

"I cannot deny him this fight," Thorin said, slow and deliberate. "This is his chance to prove himself to all. For if we win, noone can ever again say he brings a curse on us. Not even Kili himself."

"If he is dead, it shall not matter what anyone says," Fili shot back, voice bitter. "None can best him at the bow, but it is ill-suited for combat, and his quiver can only hold so many arrows."

"Then you shall have to protect him," Thorin said. "He will not leave us, Fili, but that I force him. And even then, I do not think he would stay away."

Fili sighed. "He has become more disobedient of late. I blame it entirely on Ori. He is a bad influence."

"Worse than you?" Thorin said. "I find that hard to believe, nephew." He rose up, gold coins spilling to the ground beneath his feet. "You should sleep. We fight tomorrow."

"I do not think I shall be able to sleep."

"Then rest, at least." He pulled Fili to his feet, and clapped him on the shoulder. "You should rescue Kili from Dwalin, else he shall be too sore and bruised to lift a sword in the morning."

"He can hardly lift it now," Fili said, but there was no heat in it. He paused for a moment. "I am not sure I will be able to protect him, Uncle."

"I am," Thorin said. "I am certain you shall."

Fili sighed heavily. "But he is not ready."

"Neither are you, my sister-son," Thorin said. "But I shall have you by my side anyway, and we shall have Kili too, and together we shall defeat this enemy."

Oh, how Bilbo hoped Thorin was right! He pulled on his ring, and, invisible, crept past the two dwarves and to his poor little bed, where he lay quite awake the whole night through.

Morning dawned, and with it came war. It was a terrible battle. Bilbo realized very early on that his poor little dagger would be of little use to protect him against the mighty swords of the goblins and the fearsome fangs of the wargs. And of course he had no experience whatsoever with combat, and his mithril coat of mail would only serve him so well if a goblin sliced off his head or a warg bit him in two! So he very sensibly put on his magic ring, and made his way slowly and very cautiously to Ravenhill, where the elves had gathered to make a stand, and there he spent most of that horrible day.

Even eyes so keen as Bilbo's could not make out what was happening on the fields of war below, but that the battle was joined on all sides and it was horrible and fierce. Desperately did Bilbo seek out some sight of his friends, but there were many thousands of creatures on the battlefield, and from a distance, a dwarf could not be told from a man or an elf. Sadly, they were even harder to distinguish when lying broken and bloody on the ground — even the bodies of the goblins looked much the same in death as those of friendlier folk.

Oh, Bilbo saw more death in that one horrid day than he had ever witnessed in his entire life, and it was on that day he was the most regretful that he had ever left the Shire, for surely he would never be able to wipe those sights and sounds from his mind! But that was supposing he survived to remember any of it, and for much of the day he was sure he would not, for the forces of the goblins and wargs exceeded the men and dwarves and elves by countless number, and they fought with a cruel and fierce brutality.

The battle was not lost after all, by the grace of the great Eagles, who hated the goblins more fiercely than did the elves, and then Beorn, who hated the goblins more fiercely than even the eagles, but Bilbo was not awake to witness the miraculous rescue, for a stray stone knocked him quite unconscious, and he did not awaken for many hours, by which time all was well said and done. When he woke, he was alone on the hilltop — for he had been wearing his ring when he was knocked out and none could see him. But a man was there who had been sent by Gandalf specifically to find Bilbo, and once Bilbo became visible again (to the man's great surprise), they departed quickly for the camps below. From this man Bilbo learned how the war had ended, and also that most of Thorin's Company had been accounted for but for young Fili and the slave boy.

"He is no slave!" Bilbo cried, quite indignant. "He owes a debt, that is all."

"My apologies, Mister Halfling," the man said, though he looked more bemused than abashed. "I repeat only what I heard from the elves." He dropped Bilbo off then in a tent of healing, wherein Bilbo found Gandalf deep in conversation with a battered and scowling Thorin, who was covered in bandages but otherwise appeared whole enough, for he was sitting up and eating with a hearty appetite.

Bilbo's stomach growled, as it had been at least a day since he had eaten anything, and that meal was cram; the sight and smell of fresh roasted meat set his mouth quite to watering.

"Mr. Baggins," Gandalf cried, delighted. "It is quite a relief to see you alive! You had been missing so long, we feared you dead and trapped under the body of a warg somewhere. Come, have some food. There is plenty to spare."

Bilbo was very cautious to approach, for he knew not what state of mind Thorin would be in and whether his madness had quite retreated, but the King under the Mountain merely grunted and pushed forward a plate of food. "Well," he said gruffly, "it appears you have burgled your way out of a war. I am relieved to see you unscathed, Mr. Baggins."

Bilbo nodded politely, and set to eating. "Has there been any word of Fili or Kili?" he asked, when he had somewhat slaked his hunger.

"I saw Fili after the battle was won," Thorin said grimly. "Though he was gravely injured. But he would not rest until he found Kili, and left the tent of healing before he could be properly tended to." He grimaced. "I live only because Fili fought at my side, else I should have been felled by a goblin's blade more than once. And Fili lives only because Kili saved him from a warg with an arrow shot from the bow of Regrin."

Gandalf raised an eyebrow at that. "So he gained the bow back, then? I did wonder."

"Aye," Thorin said. "He used it first to slay Smaug. It is a mighty bow indeed and he wielded it with great skill."

At that moment, a great commotion arose outside the tent, and there was much shouting and excitement. "Help!" someone was crying, loud and harsh and desperate. "Help me!"

They dashed outside, and it was Fili, and he carried Kili in his arms. Kili was limp and bloodied, but one arm rested across his chest and in his hand was clenched the bow; though he was not conscious, still he would not release his hold on it.

"Help me with him!" Fili pleaded. "He is grievously wounded. I cannot wake him."

"In the tent!" Gandalf cried! "Fetch a healer!"

Elves descended, from where Bilbo did not see, and they gently lifted Kili from Fili's arms and hastened him into the tent, wherein they laid him down and began to strip him of his blood-stained clothing, tutting in their delicate speech at what they found beneath. Fili sagged the instant Kili was taken from him, and Thorin pulled him close. "Nephew," he murmured, "it warms my heart to see that you are well."

"Not so well," Gandalf muttered, "if I am any judge, and I am. Fili, come and rest. You look near to falling over."

Fili did stumble then, but Thorin was there and guided him into the tent, where he laid him down on a cot. "I shall get more healers," he said gruffly. "And this time, my sister-son, you shall stay in the bed and let them tend you."

"Sorry, Uncle," Fili mumbled. He looked quite pale, and Bilbo saw now that his clothes too were torn and bloodied, and the sheets beneath him were staining with a slowly seeping red.

"Oh, my boy," Bilbo said, wiping at Fili's brow, "you should not have gone back out. There are plenty here who could have searched in your stead."

"They think him a slave," Fili muttered. "They think his mind is clouded. If they found him first, they would have taken him from us and told us he had died here, and we would never have been the wiser." He gripped Bilbo's arm with a strength Bilbo would not have guessed he could muster. "Do not let them take him, Mister Baggins. Please. I beg it of you. If you ever felt any friendship for him or me, do not let them take him away."

Bilbo did not say anything, but patted Fili's hand gently. He looked over to the elves tending to Kili, speaking quickly and urgently in their own tongue and bustling about in a manner that seemed foreign to their usual smooth, unhurried grace. Kili lay still as a corpse and was almost as pale, but Bilbo took comfort at least from the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. "It will all be fine, I'm certain," Bilbo said, but when he looked down, Fili had fallen into sleep or unconsciousness. He looked quite wan under the bruises and blood on his face. More elves appeared, now to tend to Fili, and Bilbo was very politely pushed aside and then out of the tent altogether.

Bilbo spent the next several hours wandering the camp looking for his dwarves — for that is how he thought of them — and there were many joyous reunions, as if it had been weeks or months since they had last seen each other and not a single day. Ori, Dori, and Nori he found together in a tight group, Nori and Dori clucking over a gash on Ori's forehead that was certain to leave a scar, Ori himself quite proud of it. "I took down the goblin who gave it to me with my slingshot, Mr. Baggins!"

"One stone in the eye, and another in the throat," Nori said gruffly, and ruffled his brother's hair.

The Ur cousins Bilbo found with some dwarves from the Iron Hills. "More cousins!" Bofur said cheerfully, and introduced Bilbo to Wilfur and Wondur and Histur and — oddly — Deris. "On my mother's side," this last dwarf said with a cheeky grin, and bowed low to the ground. "At your service, Mr. Baggins."

They were all eating and invited Bilbo to share the meal with them — "Is that cram?" Bilbo asked, aghast. — "What?" Bombur said. "I like it!" — but Bilbo declined politely, bowed low and took his leave.

Balin and Dwalin he found with Gandalf and a stout, fierce dwarf with a large red nose and a beard full of fearsome, intricate braids. This proved to be Dáin, Lord of the Iron Hills, and Bilbo was much intimidated, though Dáin himself was quite polite and at-your-serviced Bilbo as heartily as any other dwarf. "Nasty business," Dáin said, though he looked very cheerful indeed. "And I understand from my cousin the King that we've much to thank you for, Mr. Baggins."

"I was merely fulfilling the terms of my contract," Bilbo demurred. "Where is Thorin? I have not seen him since the morning. I thought he would be out and about by now."

"He's back in the healing tent with the lads," Balin said. "He fetched Oín to take a look at them. He's no love for elves or their medicine."

"He's no love for any he does not already know," Dáin said. "Nor trust. Thorin would not accept even my healers, though I offered him our best."

"You've enough of your own wounded to attend to," Dwalin said gruffly.

"True enough." Dáin still looked quite cheerful. "It was a mighty battle. Many the proud scar was born this day."

Balin and Dwalin nodded, as if such sentiment was perfectly sensible, but Bilbo simply nodded his head a few times and excused himself to head back to the healing tent, for if Oín was there then surely Gloín would be too, and those two were the last of the Company he had yet to see for himself. And then too, he was eager to see Kili and Fili, as they had been the most seriously wounded, and Bilbo was very anxious as to their well-being. Balin accompanied him, for if Thorin was awake, they had many important political matters to discuss, though privately Bilbo doubted that Thorin would be amenable to such discussions so soon after the end of battle, with Fili and Kili injured so gravely.

When they arrived back at the tent, Gloín was indeed there, standing outside with his arms crossed, glowering at all who dared approach, looking nearly as intimidating as his cousin Dwalin. He was well pleased to see Bilbo, however, and greeted him heartily with a hug fierce enough to cause Bilbo to worry about his ribs.

"How are things inside?" Bilbo asked, when he had been set back on his feet.

Gloín frowned. "Thorin is grumpy but not very injured, and Fili has been stitched up and has eaten. They have both been forced to bed to rest." He sighed then. "They do not think the boy will survive the night."

Bilbo felt a wrenching pain in his chest and blinked against the tears that leapt to his eyes. "He cannot die," he murmured. "The world could not be so unfair." Though of course even a hobbit growing up sheltered in the Shire knew the world could be so unfair, and often was. He steeled himself and ducked into the tent.

The earlier chaos had dissipated, and there were but two healers left: an elf, tall and willowy, and Oín, who in comparison looked as short as a rabbit and as wide as an oliphaunt.

"But surely," Fili was saying from his bed, looking mulish and furious, "there is some treatment."

Oín shook his head. "I've told you, lad, he lost too much blood."

"But something," Fili said. "You elves. Can't you do something? Use some magic?"

The elf frowned. "There is no magic that can replace one's life blood once it is lost. Though–"

"What?" Fili asked. "What?"

"It has never been done with a dwarf," the elf said reluctantly. "I know not whether it would work. It is reliable for elves but far less so for humans, and dwarves are different to both races. I cannot predict what the outcome might be."

"If you do nothing," Fili said, "he will die. Surely whatever risk there may be is worth it."

"Perhaps," the elf said, but he did not look content. He placed his hands over Kili's motionless form and murmured something liquid under his breath, eyes closed. After a moment, he breathed in deeply and shook his head, frowning at Fili. "He is very weak. He was weakened to start. His wounds did not all arise today."

"No," Fili said, and looked ashamed.

"What is this treatment?" Oín asked. "If it is not magic, what is it?"

"It is just medicine, like stitching a wound or applying a salve. It is a way for one to lend blood to another."

Oín grunted. "Blood cannot be borrowed."

"It can," the elf said. "And quite easily, in fact. Among elves, any one can share blood with any other. But among men, sometimes the receiving party will sicken or even die. It is best performed among the closest of kin, though that is still no guarantee of success."

"Then take my blood," Fili said. "If it be kin's blood that you need, take mine."

"Fili," Balin muttered — in warning, Bilbo thought.

"What," Fili demanded, "shall I pretend still that he is not my brother, even now as he is dying? We have been pretending for 77 years, but it does not change the truth of it."

"It is a generous offer that you make," the elf said carefully, "but I would be a poor healer indeed if I overlooked your own injuries, Prince Fili. You could not supply enough blood to save the boy. He would still die, and you would have risked your life for nothing."

"Then take mine," Thorin rumbled.

Bilbo was quite astonished, for he had not realized Thorin was awake, so still and quiet had he been in his bed. But he sat up now, and though his face was still bruised and bloody, he looked quite fierce and determined.

"If Fili cannot supply enough blood," Thorin said firmly, "take mine. Take both of ours, if you need it. I am not so injured as Fili, and I would give all that I can to save Kili's life."

Balin coughed and looked quite uncomfortable. "Thorin," he said. "Have a care. If you do this, you shall all but have named him as your nephew."

Thorin looked quite spectacularly furious. "In front of whom? The elves, who already think us barbarians for our treatment of him? Dáin? He holds no truck with these traditions, and well you know it. If we had fostered the boy with his father's family, he would have been raised in the Iron Hills as a prince, and he would already be married to one of Dáin's nieces and held forth as an heir to the throne of Erebor. Dáin would recognize his claim as superior to even his own. It is only our own customs that have held him low."

"As that may be," Balin said, "but our traditions they remain. You cannot simply discard them when they are no longer convenient. You are King Under the Mountain."

"What good is it that I should be King, if I cannot save the life of one child?" Thorin threw back, veins throbbing in his anger. "He has given all the years of his life to our cursed customs. Would you have him sacrifice the rest of them now, so that propriety can be met? I shall not do it. I shall not do it any longer. Take what you need," he said to the elf, who was standing very still, with eyes wide and unblinking and no other expression on his face at all. "Take what you need from both of us, and save his life."

In the end, eight healers were called in to decide: four elves, each next as tall and graceful as the last, and three of Dáin's healers, and Oín. They dithered and bickered worse than hobbits on market day squabbling over the price of pastries, and through it all Thorin sat off to the side, glowering and silent and worried, Dáin and Balin nearby speaking in soft whispers.

Bilbo hovered by Kili's bed, and though he knew he had no place in this debate or even in the tent, he could not help but feel that if these were to be Kili's last hours, that he should have a friend to share them with. Kili was so desperately pale, and his chest hardly moved at all. Bilbo stroked his hand and felt entirely useless.

"He nearly died," Fili said from his cot, which he had consented to stay in only after they had moved it next to Kili's. "When we were younger, Thorin took him on a trading trip. I was so jealous — I was older but had still never left Ered Luin. They were gone for a month, and when they returned, Kili was sick. Oín first thought it was just a cold, but when Kili got sicker and sicker, Oín realized he'd picked up some sort of pox in one of the human settlements. Oín didn't know how to treat it, and none of the other healers would see him."

"Because he was khazd khuv?"

"For fear it would spread," Fili said, "or so they claimed. But I am sure that if it had been me, or any other dwarfling, they would have seen to him. At least Oín came — he was there when my mother died, you see, and I think he has always felt responsible. He has always taken care of Kili."

"I suppose Oín must have worked out how to treat the pox."

Fili shrugged. "I don't know. Nobody told me anything. I knew only that Kili was very ill, and I was forbidden to go into the sick room. I did anyway, of course."

Bilbo was thoroughly horrified. "You could have caught his illness!"

"I was young," Fili said. "I could not believe myself in danger from some human pox, or from Kili. And you must understand, though no one would ever acknowledge a kin relationship between us existed, he grew up in my house. When we were very little, he was my closest playmate. And then we got older and things changed, and he always had to do chores and could no longer play with me. I was not so very nice to him then," he said wistfully. "But he never complained." Fili fell silent for a moment, then heaved a great, sad sigh. "The night I crept into see him, he had been alone in the sick room for days, with no one to see him but Thorin and Oín, and even they would not come close. He was very lonely and scared. He asked me if I thought he would go to the Halls of Waiting when he died."

Bilbo had learned enough of dwarves by now to understand the question, and it pained him greatly to imagine a young Kili, sick and afraid to die, though of course he had not died then, and so it should not be so sad — but still it was. He patted Kili's hands again ineffectively. "What did you tell him?"

Fili looked down miserably. "I told him no, that khazd khuv are cursed even in the afterlife, and that if he died before finishing his sentence he would be sent to gehenor to work the forges until he had paid his full penalty, but that it would take longer because the work of the dead counts less than the work of the living." He would not look at Bilbo, but reached out tentatively to wipe some stray hairs off Kili's forehead. "I was a horrid child. I thought it was funny to tease him. But Kili just accepted it. I don't think he had expected any other answer. Then Thorin came in and nearly took my head off for being there. By the time they let me out of isolation, Kili had recovered, and I forgot all about it." He looked at Bilbo then, searchingly. "Do you think he still believes it? That if he dies, his punishment will continue?"

"I could not say," Bilbo said, "for we have never spoken of such things." In his heart, he was certain that Kili believed exactly that, but he could see no benefit to telling that to Fili, whose guilt looked already to be too heavy to bear.

"I hope he doesn't," Fili said. "I hope he knows that if he dies, he will go to the Halls like every other dwarf, and there they will sing of his great deeds and valor."

"Let us hope," Bilbo said fervently, "that he shall not find out the truth of the matter for many years." He patted Kili's limp hand then, but frowned as he took a closer look. "Is it just me," he asked worriedly, "or are his lips turning blue?"

They were, and things got very busy then for there was no more time to bicker, and Thorin after all was King Under the Mountain, and would have his will done. Though the dwarf healers were still suspicious of the elves, they all agreed Thorin was well enough to spare some blood, and Fili a little bit too; also they were very curious how this great feat was to be accomplished. The elves were cautious in their promises, but when they set to work they were quick and efficient, and Bilbo could not help being bolstered by their quiet, competent chattering.

Bilbo could not imagine how blood could be given from one dwarf to another, but maybe that Kili must drink it and perhaps the elves would work some magic that would send it from his stomach to his veins. But in the end it seemed to be very mundane, with some tubes and needles and nothing magical at all, not even a single spell. Thorin was dizzy and pale when it was done, and Fili fell right to sleep, but the elves showed little concern for either of them. "Give them liquid," they said, "and sweet foods, and keep them abed, as they should be anyway to recover from their wounds."

It was Kili the elves were more worried about, and initially they were quite worried indeed, but as the hours passed and Kili showed no further signs of illness, they grew very pleased. "Though his recovery is by no means assured," they warned, "but he is young and strong, and now he has a fair chance, and that is all we could have hoped for."

Bilbo secretly disagreed, for they could have hoped for a miracle, as he surely did! But as the afternoon turned to evening, then night, and then again to morning, Kili's color improved and his breathing grew easier and more regular; the elves were practically merry, and Bilbo found he was quite content after all.


A/N: C'mon, you didn't really think I was going to kill them, did you? That would be very distinctly unsatisfying. :)

Thanks as always to my beta SapphireMusings. DH has a cold and hasn't read this yet to catch any egregious canon-errors. I hope there aren't any. And thanks as always to everyone who takes a miinute to drop me a comment! It makes me day every time! Even the short ones. :D