I have come to accept that my chapters are short. I've noticed that they're kind of episodic and that I just end them where I think they need to be ended. You will rarely see a chapter from me that takes place in two different places. Plus, I have the tendency to stop writing when I start writing filler. In the words of my former English teacher. "I don't care if you stop short a page, if whatever comes after that is crap-tacular, just stop writing."

So that's how I roll :)

Thanks to all my reviewers, and a shout out to Mzzmarie, who tells me that I have an "incredible" grasp of Fili's voice. :)

Coward. Traitor. For days afterwards, Thorin's words resounded in my ears as I paced the grounds of Rivendell. I no longer sat a constant vigil at Kíli's bedside; the healers had had enough of me. Thorin had a very short temper, and I credited his outburst to it. It gave me some comfort, knowing that someday he might forgive me. Might.

But it didn't matter now, the company was long gone. By now they were probably treading along the same mountain passes where we first met with misfortune. Possibly even farther, without two members to worry about. I wondered, who was doing the scouting now? Kíli and I, being the youngest with the keenest senses, had always taken those duties. Certainly they wouldn't be sending Bilbo out. If he met with any treachery, he'd faint on the spot. He'd never make it back to tell them.

All the same, it was no use pacing and fuming like I was. For the first time in my life, I felt completely useless. Even back home there was always something that needed doing, and I had usually been the one to do it. Mahal knows Kíli was always the lazy one. He never lifted a finger if he could help it.

I needed to get away, that much I knew. But where would I go? Thorin must have sent word by now that I must not be welcomed back to his halls. If by some chance I caught up with him and the others, they'd surely leave me behind. The company was completely loyal to him, and, as I had witnessed, while they were out in the wild his word would be law.

When I had finally had enough of pacing back and forth, I wandered down into the valley. I didn't want to leave, what if something were to happen to Kíli while I was gone? He would surely ask for me. He always did when he was unwell, ever since we were children. But I had to go, for my own sake.

I was only now aware of the somewhat precarious state I was in—dwarves are not natural climbers and the descent was steep. My boot skidded on a patch of moss and my leg went out from under me. I frantically clutched at the long grass to steady myself and only succeeded in tearing out a clump of earth. My nails dug into the wet soil as I clung to the hillside, panting. I had to act fast, the loose dirt would not hold my weight for long. There was a tree root not far away, but it proved to be just out of my reach. As soon as I let go my hold and grabbed for it, I slid further. Down the hill I rolled, end over end, landing flat on my back at the edge of a shallow stream.

I don't know what compelled me to do it, but in the next moment I found myself angrily splashing into the water in nothing but my trousers rolled up to my knees. The cold mountain water swirled around my shins and delivered a numbing shock that froze me to the core. It felt good. After all that had happened, a good uncomfortable shock was what I needed. My foot slid over a slick river rock. Picking it up, I hurled it as far as I could, followed by another. And another. Splashing, stomping, and throwing stones, I cursed out Thorin at the top of my lungs, never stopping to think anyone could hear me, giving no care that I looked like a madman. When I was spent and had screamed myself hoarse, I sank down and sat in the freezing water, knees drawn up to my chest, shivering. If I stayed like this for long I would develop hypothermia. Serve me right if I did. I just wanted to give up...to die.

I heard a noise behind me; someone cleared their throat. Turning, I saw Elladan standing at the bank of the stream, and Elrohir at the top of the hill. Amid my shouting, I had not heard them approach.

"Are you finished?" he asked, trying not to sound as shaken as I knew he was. "You gave everyone quite a scare."

"Yes. I…I'm sorry. I know that was not appropriate." I stood, dripping wet and half naked, and strode out of the water, pulling my clothes on before I was anywhere close to dry. I left my coat and boots off and carried them over my shoulder as I stumbled up the hill, with Elladan pushing me up from behind. As I reached the top, Elrohir took my hands as Elladan gave a final shove to my back, sending me sprawling on the grass.

"Steady, there," said Elrohir, taking my elbow, as if he were calming a horse. He gave me a smile that I'm sure was mean to be reassuring, but which I found so disparaging that I punched him in the stomach, causing him to double over and retch.

"Fíli!" Elladan cried. "What's gotten into you? You were just fine a few days ago!"

"A lot can change in a few days." I spat, literally—a gob of mud at his feet. "I need a pony," I grunted. "I'm leaving." If they had heard me, then so had Elrond's entire household. I could not bring myself to face them. What was I doing? It was Kíli who was always the hothead, not me.

"We only have horses," Elladan replied. "But you're welcome to borrow one, provided you return it."

"I will." I promised.

"Where will you go?" Elrohir coughed. "Why must you leave?"

"I don't know." I said. I neither knew where I was going or why I must leave. I only knew that I must. Besides, why would they want me here, after what I'd just done?

"We will get you provisions," Elladan offered. I noted he did not invite me back inside.

Half an hour later, I mounted my borrowed horse and rode off into darkness. No one saw me off. I sped the horse into a gallop, testing my balance. I was not used to horses, and feared I might fall. The saddle had been adjusted for my height, but even so, my feet barely rested in the stirrups.

Once I was sure of my balance, I sped the horse to a canter, and then a run. I planned to travel through the night, and I wanted to get as far as possible. I did not relish camping alone. It was when I thought of that that I also realized why I was running away. Thorin was right. I was a coward. I was leaving the safety of Rivendell for fear of the elves' judgment. It might be forgivable for anyone else to have such an outburst as I had and still be forgiven. But I was a dwarf. And that was an entirely different matter.

To make matters worse, I had left Kíli all alone in that strange place. What would he think when he awoke the next morning and I did not come to visit him? I was miles away from him, heading West. My destination, I decided, was Bree. It was the only town I had seen between the Shire and Rivendell. From there, perhaps I might go to the coast, or even get passage to Valinor somehow, where no one knew me and I would not be dismissed as a traitor. Thorin had been right all along. He had trained me since I was a child, and knew my strengths and weaknesses better than even I did. So I would do what any coward would. I would run away. It was for the best.

I had planned to travel without stopping, but within a few hours I was nearly bursting from the need to relieve myself, and my not being able to sit the horse properly wasn't helping. So I stopped and at long last decided to set up a lonely camp, and ate a minimal amount of something the elves called "lembas" bread. Elladan had assured me one small bite would fill my stomach, which was just as well, considering I didn't feel like making a fire. Praying no night creatures would attack me for lack of one, I settled back against a boulder and went to sleep with my weapons drawn and one eye open.

Has Fili finally cracked? I think he's too hard on himself sometimes. There's only so much that a young prince can handle.

Or at least that's how I see him. He is Thorin's heir, and after so many years of discipline and responsibility, he would suddenly find himself without purpose. I think that would make anybody go nuts and lash out.

I'm trying to write him as though he's aware that he's being a chicken, and hates himself for it, because he knows how he should be acting.

Please review! It still feeds the creativity DemonBeastThing! Yes, that is how I am referring to it from now on. :)

Teehee.