Whew. Sorry it's been so long since my last update. AGAIN. I've barely had a minute to do anything that wasn't textbook and paper-writing related. But this affords me some sanity while I'm up to my eyeballs in school stuff. So yay :)

Big thanks to everyone who has been reading/following/reviewing thus far. I think I finally figured out which direction to take this story in. :)

Oh, and I finally noticed (I'm not one for detail, you see) that some of the characters' names have accents. So from now on I'll be adding them in.

May ye be warned, this chapter gets a bit harsh. Angst: it might be a buzzkill.

Ah, well. Onward!

They brought me up to Kíli's room and trailed in behind me. The healers had gone and we were alone. At long last, I approached his bedside and took a closer look at him. He was still deathly pale, but upon searching for a pulse, I found a weak one. His heart still beat and his breathing was shallow, but he was alive. Mercifully. For now.

Unfortunately, my mind wandered to the ultimate worst, and I felt a lump forming in my throat.

"Leave me," I urged. "Please." They had been kind, but if an elf were to see a dwarf cry…I'd never hear the end of it.

They obeyed, and left me alone at Kíli's bedside. Just in time too, tears were clouding my vision and threatened to spill as they closed the door behind them.

And spill they did. A torrent of them. Damn it. Come back to me, Kíli. You can't leave. I—we need you. "Stay strong." I whispered to him. "You've never failed me before. So don't do it now."

I was finally alone—well and truly alone. Everyone else was asleep several floors below. It had been a long day, I thought, of trying to hold myself together for everyone's sake. Looking down at the mere shell of my brother, I couldn't have run away from my emotions if I wanted to, and I gave myself up to sobbing like a forlorn child yet again. I had cried more in the past few days than I had in years, I was sure, but I didn't care. No one could hear me now. I could no longer look at Kíli. With every glance, I saw just how much closer he was to death than life. Shoulders shaking, I sunk to the floor, burying my face in my hands. Why had this had to happen? That moment, I wished we were both home, that we had never come on this journey. At least Kíli would be safe.

Home…I'd probably never see it again.

I was seven years old again, and Kíli, not quite two, trailed after me as I was on my way somewhere—probably just to wander through the woods as I usually did.

"Fíli!" his shrill cry echoed. "Fíliiiiii….! Where you goin'?" Kíli pattered up behind me, in his baby's tunic and leather booties.

"The woods. You can't come with me—you're still too small."

He plowed himself into my stomach, wrapping his arms tightly around me. "Wanna go too!" he wailed. "Take me wif!"

"Maybe in another year or two, but it's too dangerous for a little wee dwarf." I petted his hair that was barely long enough to braid. "Go help Mum. Maybe she'll give you a sweet."

Kíli dug a finger in his nose. "I bring you a sweet!" he cried, skittering back into the house. I chuckled and carried on my way. I had important things to do—trees to climb, rocks to skip, small animals to throw sticks at—and I didn't want him in my way.

Now I would do anything to have him back and in my way. Lost in my reverie, I was only barely aware of something touching my hair, toying with the braid that ran down the back of my head. I reached up to feel—a hand. Wiping my tears, I looked up. Kíli was half-awake, and his hand had fallen off the bed onto my head, fingers tangling in my hair. Tucking his hand back under the covers, I strode to the far side of the room and faced the wall, pressing my knuckles into my eyes. This had to stop. I would not be made weak by a tragedy that was no one's fault. But it was my duty to protect him. I could not forget that.

Steeling myself, I drew a breath and pulled a chair up to his bedside. His head lolled in my direction and I could see tear tracks worming their way over the bridge of his nose and down the side of his face. My weak smile was returned with a grimace that would have been a sob, if he'd had the strength.

Why? he mouthed

"I can't help it. I'm sorry." I sniffled.

Don't cry, he mouthed slowly so I could understand. I'll be fine.

"We don't know that," I said. "That's why I'm worried." Gently, I took his hand. It was limp and cold, and he showed no signs of being able to move it. A shudder passed through his body as he wept. I had done it now. He'd just woken up to a blubbering, terrified elder brother. I really gave him hope.

"How are you?" I asked. He rubbed a hand weakly across his chest in reply. "In pain?"

He nodded and drew a sharp intake of breath. "Hurts," he panted. He sounded like he's had the wind knocked out of him. And it was no wonder. He'd fallen flat on his back. The pain must have taken a while to set in. "The healers say my back is bruised, and my arm may not heal. What will I do if I can't shoot?" he asked tearfully, beginning to panic.

"Don't think about that," I murmured, pushing his hair back from his face. "Just rest." I got up to leave, and he tugged my hand.

"Stay," he said.

So I did.

...

"Fíli," a voice thundered. "Fíli! Wake up!"

Thorin stood at the foot of the bed, looking irate. I had fallen asleep in the chair, holding Kíli's hand and resting my head on the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing up here?" he demanded.

My head immediately shot off the mattress as I tried to gather my thoughts. "I…I came to visit him last night, with Elladan and Elrohir. He wanted me to stay." I swallowed. "He's in great pain." Looking over at him, I saw that he was at the most peace he had been in days, but perhaps that was only because he was sleeping. A novice healer had come in the middle of the night to dose him with an opiate when he complained loudly of the pain in his delirium. He would sleep through the day now.

"We are leaving," Thorin announced. "In just a few hours. We must reach the Lonely Mountain before Durin's Day, and we've lost time backtracking as it is."

"What about Kíli?" I fumed, suddenly unable to control my temper. "Does reclaiming a pile of gold and Mahal knows what else—shiny rocks—mean more to you than your own nephew?"

I received a powerful blow to the face before I could react, the force of which sent me flying backwards into a table. Pressing the back of my hand to my stinging cheek, my fingers came away bloody. Thorin's ring bore the evidence of destruction, and the knuckles of his right hand were bloody as well.

"A pile of gold and shiny rocks? Is that all our home is to you?" he roared. Kíli twitched in his sleep but did not wake.

Standing up, I confronted him, nostrils flaring as I spoke. It was all I could do to maintain a level tone. "It may be your home, but it was never mine. I've never even seen it, and I have ceased to care if I ever do."

For a moment, he looked taken aback. But after an instant, his expression changed back to one of resolute anger. "So be it. I have tolerated you and your endless worries long enough. I thought you had the courage and strength deserving of this company. But you have failed me, Fíli. You who I hoped might one day ascend the throne when I had gone. But no longer. I renounce you as my heir, Fíli, son of Dís. Do what you will, but do not attempt to follow us or return to the Blue Mountains. You will not be welcome. I will see to it that everyone knows you for what you are. A coward…and a traitor."

With that, he swept out of the room without a backwards glance. I righted myself and swiped at my bloodied face. If valuing my brother's life above a collection of cold jewels and stone made me a traitor, then let him call me a traitor. But there was one thing I knew I never would be. And that was a coward.

Poor Fili... :,(

Whatever will he do now?

I am a horrible person sometimes.

Let me know what you think via review! (About the chapter, I mean. Whether or not I'm a horrible person can be left to your imagination.)