A/N: Hey everyone! I have returned! I've made it through my finals – sleep-deprived, but with most of my sanity intact – so here is Chapter Eight to celebrate. I'm really sorry about the delay with this chapter, but thank you all for being so patient. The thought of writing this got me through my exams, so I really hope you enjoy it!

"What in Durin's name are all these elves doing in here?!"

Kíli's eyes snapped up from the breakfast he had been contemplating, but not eating, as the disgruntled shout echoed around the Entrance Hall. He twisted around in his seat, searching out the source of the cry, and his heart leapt. A group had formed before the Front Gate; a white-haired councillor, who was flanked by other politicians and some of Dáin's men, was barring entry to a newly-arrived party… who were all at least a foot taller than their confronters. Legolas's light blonde hair was easily distinguishable amidst the blur of black and brown, and Kíli narrowed his eyes as his gaze moved to scrutinise the figure standing next to him. He was no elf. It was Estel.

Almost dropping his untouched plate of sausages, Kíli leapt to his feet, as did the rest of the company. It took Kíli an enormous amount of self-restraint to stop himself charging towards Estel and Legolas at full speed, but he managed to slow his step to a purposeful stride as his heartbeat began thudding manically in his ears. Dwalin and Balin appeared at his side, and from the cacophony of footsteps, Kíli guessed the rest of the company were following close behind. As he drew closer, Kíli realised Estel and Legolas were not alone; two dark-haired elves were standing behind them… His stomach did another flip. Elladan and Elrohir had also ridden out from Rivendell.

Kíli reached the grumbling crowd of councillors and vexed soldiers, which immediately parted to let him through, and all eyes turned to him with looks of suspicion and wary curiosity. Everyone fell silent, but the unnerving hush didn't stay Kíli's smile. He couldn't remember the last time there had been cause to smile, so he fully embraced this moment of hope and relief. "Estel!" he beamed.

Having meant to stop when he reached the front of the crowd, Kíli was surprised when he found himself still moving forward, but Estel seemed to have read the mixture of joy and relieved exhaustion in his expression, and understood. He bent down onto one knee and opened his arms to Kíli, who gladly embraced him as if he were a returning brother. That thought made Kíli tense, and Estel pulled away, keeping his hands firmly on Kíli's shoulders.

"It is good to see you, Kíli," Estel murmured, a small smile appearing on his lips.

"Thank you for coming," Kíli said quietly, trying to ignore the mutters that were stirring around them.

"I only wish we were meeting again under better circumstances," Estel replied, and the familiar ache returned to Kíli's chest.

He nodded, his gaze momentarily dropping to his feet, but then he looked up and peered around Estel to greet Elladan and Elrohir. And his heart jolted. There was yet another unexpected visitor: Lady Arwen was standing behind her brothers. Elrond's sons had taken a protective stance in front of their sister, their fingers poised on the handles of their swords, but Arwen seemed more than annoyed by their behaviour. She caught Kíli's eye and moved passed Elladan and Elrohir, shaking the snow from her purple travelling cloak.

"Kíli." She came to Estel's side as he straightened up.

"My lady," Kíli said, managing a smile. "We weren't expecting you."

"I had to come," Arwen whispered, taking Kíli's hands in her own. "We are all so sorry for your loss."

Kíli's eyes dropped to his feet once more; he had nothing to say to that.

"All right, enough of this!" growled the white-haired dwarf to Kíli's right.

A row of councillors stood behind him, wearing expressions of varying degrees of incredulity. This show of trust and affection between an elf and dwarf, which none had ever witnessed before, had obviously unsettled all of them.

"What are they doing here, boy?" the dwarf demanded, when Kíli stayed quiet.

Kíli glanced across at the councillor, but ignored the question. "I think there might be two rooms available on the old guard corridor," he said, looking to Estel. "We finished clearing the second one early this morning."

"Those rooms are being prepared for Dáin!" the old councillor spat, advancing on Kíli with a look of menace. Kíli felt Dwalin tense and shift closer to his side.

"I'm sorry we haven't got more space… I just wasn't expecting anyone but Estel," Kíli continued, undeterred.

"I am sure we will manage," Estel said, clearly impressed by Kíli's steadfast show of defiance.

"Estel can stay with us," Elladan put in, indicating Elrohir. "Arwen can have the second room."

Estel glanced behind at Elladan. "Arwen and I could –"

"No," Elladan said simply.

"We will not have elves staying here!" the councillor erupted, his face flooded with colour. He was obviously not used to being ignored and Kíli was sure he was about to start stamping his foot. "This is Erebor, not an inn!"

"If there is a problem, I am sure my father will gladly provide living quarters at our camp," Legolas offered, turning to Estel.

"Aye! You keep to your kind, we'll keep to ours," came the gruff reply.

"Oh, for Durin's sake, Nordul!" Balin suddenly snapped. "These are the children of Lord Elrond, who came to our company's aid when we needed it most. It is only fair that we return their hospitality." He took a step towards Nordul, his blue eyes full of fire. "And they are here by royal invitation, as guests of the King."

Kíli's stomach twisted painfully as his gaze moved from Balin to Nordul. The subject of Fíli, the reason for Estel's arrival, had not yet been mentioned… But now he knew it was inevitable. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage as he looked to Nordul for his reaction.

Nordul's eyes flashed black and a sickly smile appeared on his lips. "Really?" he said, and his silky tone made Kíli's skin crawl. "Then why do I get the feeling the King doesn't even know they've been sent for?"

Kíli's gaze moved to Estel, his grim expression indicating that Nordul was right. Estel's grey eyes were stony and his shoulders sank. He nodded to Kíli. They had a lot to discuss.

Fíli's eyes darted to his left when he heard the bedroom door creak open. Kíli slipped into the room and shut the door behind him carefully… very carefully. Fíli pulled himself up onto his elbows, scrutinising his brother as he turned to him. Kíli rarely returned to their room during the day; he rose early in the morning and didn't reappear until late evening. It was a routine that brought Fíli both relief and gnawing pain. He didn't have much to say to Kíli anymore; being slowly suffocated by his grief, he mostly wanted to be alone. But he also missed his brother, and Kíli's long absences sometimes made Fíli feel as if he were grieving for him as well as his uncle.

Kíli was lingering by the door, as if he was afraid to come any closer. He shifted guiltily on the spot, and Fíli recognised his mannerisms from their childhood, when he was forever getting himself into trouble and expecting Fíli to get him out of it.

"Kíli?" Fíli murmured. He slowly pulled himself into a sitting position and rearranged his pillows against the wooden headboard.

"You have visitors," Kíli said, his voice sounding strained.

Visitors? Fíli narrowed his eyes at Kíli. It was too soon for his mother to have arrived from Ered Luin, and Kíli had long given up trying to convince him to speak to other members of the company. Perhaps it was Dáin finally demanding a signature so that his crown could be officially signed, sealed, and delivered.

"Estel arrived this morning," Kíli continued, preemptively flinching.

Fíli's stomach jolted and his heart rose into his mouth… Estel? Estel had come to Erebor… Why? His chest suddenly tightened as the truth dawned on him, and he turned to Kíli, his blue eyes wide. Estel was here to force him onto the throne.

"Elladan and Elrohir are here too," Kíli said carefully. "And Lady Arwen."

Each breath got hitched in Fíli's throat and the room began to spin. Elladan and Elrohir too? And Lady Arwen… She had come all this way, and for what? Of course, he had always hoped he would see the children of Rivendell again… but not under these circumstances. And not when he thought they were here with an ulterior motive.

"Who sent for them?" Fíli said, through gritted teeth. "It was Gandalf wasn't it? I knew he wouldn't be able to resist getting involved…"

All the colour had drained from Kíli's face and he stood, frozen on the spot, his brown eyes wide with terror.

"What?" Fíli snapped, unnerving by Kíli's behaviour.

"I… I sent for them," Kíli said, in no more than a whisper. "I sent word to Rivendell."

"You? You did this…" Fíli breathed, and suddenly he felt like he was being strangled.

He thought Kíli understood… He had told him repeatedly that he didn't want the crown, and Kíli hadn't forced the issue since their argument in the tent. Fíli had thought his brother was on his side. He knew all his fears; he had heard him screaming about them at night, and he had soothed him. "I… I can't do it, Kíli…" "I know… I know…" But Kíli had betrayed him.

"I told you!" Fíli cried, angry tears beginning to blur his vision. "I told you I didn't want the throne… But now you've dragged Estel half-way across Middle Earth to come and bully me into it!"

"Fíli, I –" Kíli began, his voice cracking.

"And Lady Arwen!" Fíli shouted over him. "You put her in danger, forcing her to make the journey here… What were you thinking?!"

"I didn't ask her to…" Kíli trailed off, and tears appeared in his eyes.

"Or didn't you think?" Fíli continued, his voice rising. "You never think!"

Kíli recoiled at his brother's words. "You're… You're not well, Fíli…" he stammered. "I didn't know what else to do."

"Get out," Fíli growled, his voice dangerously low.

"Fíli, please…" Kíli whispered, his lips almost white.

But Fíli had nothing more to say to him. "GET OUT!"

Kíli didn't need telling again. He spun around and threw open the door. Storming out, he slammed it behind him so hard that it rattled on its hinges. Hardly able to see through his tears and feeling utterly lost, Kíli whirled around and without thinking, he smacked his fist into the stone wall of the passage-way. The pain took a while to arrive. Kíli kept his fist pressed against the wall and leant his forehead against the cool stone. He peered down at the floor, grinding his teeth with frustration. His eyes were stinging and the tears slowly slipped down his nose.

He had only wanted to help his brother. He had been so sure he was doing the right thing. But now it had all blown up in his face. There had been such iciness in Fíli's eyes as he screamed at him, and Kíli was sure, that for the first time in their lives, his brother actually hated him. All the hope he had felt at Estel's arrival evaporated. He doubted Fíli would even let Estel near him.

A sharp pain began needling his knuckles and there was something warm slipping between his fingers. Kíli straightened up and froze. His hand was bleeding; dark red lines of blood were branching out from his cut knuckles where the stitches had split. Gritting his teeth, Kíli looked up and down the passage-way. He couldn't go to Óin… The last thing he wanted was for the whole Entrance Hall to see the state he had got himself into. But now he knew another healer in Erebor. Clutching his bleeding hand to his chest, Kíli made his way to the guard corridor, thankful that he didn't have to cross the Entrance Hall to get there.

Kíli knocked on Arwen's door with his uninjured hand. Fortunately, Dáin had managed to diffuse the situation with his councillors and the Rivendell party had been given the two prepared rooms. Dáin hadn't commented on his cousin's guests, but Kíli suspected he would be sent for in the very near future. Now, waiting awkwardly in the passage-way, Kíli hastily wiped away his tears with his sleeve, although he was aware that his bleeding hand destroyed any chance of persuading Arwen that he was all right.

Arwen opened the door and her eyes widened. "Kíli!"

"Can I come in?" Kíli said meekly.

"Of course," Arwen said, unable to keep the horrified expression from her face.

Kíli moved into the room and Arwen shut the door behind him. Estel was sitting in a chair by the fire, but he leapt up as Kíli entered.

"Kíli?" he gasped. "Did… Did Fíli –?"

"No… No!" Kíli replied, mortified by even the suggestion that Fíli had been the cause of his injury… although the reality seemed much worse. "I, er, got angry and…" He trailed off.

Arwen gestured for him to sit on the bed. She brought over a basin of warm water and began to gently bathe his hand. Estel stood at the foot of the bed, watching them both, his expression sombre.

"Fíli did not react well to the news of our arrival?" Estel asked, though he clearly knew the answer.

"No," Kíli said, avoiding Estel's eye. "He… He thinks you're here to force the crown onto his head."

Estel sighed, scratching at the dark brown stubble on his chin. "Well, there is only one person Fíli needs to speak to… and it is not me."

A knock at the door cut through the silence and Fíli was dragged from his thoughts with a shudder. It seemed like an age had passed since Kíli slammed the door, and Fíli had sat in bed, waiting, his rage slowly turning to despair, willing his brother to come back. But the knock was unexpected: Kíli never knocked.

"Kíli?" Fíli said, staring at the door, his heartbeat growing to a gallop.

The door slowly opened… and Estel stepped into the room, ducking slightly under the door-frame. "May I come in?" he asked quietly.

Fíli tensed and his fingers curled around his bed sheets, but after one long moment he gave a stiff nod. Estel shut the door behind him and came to Fíli's side, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He hadn't changed a bit since Fíli last saw him, which only made Fíli's chest ache when he thought about how much he himself had changed… How his whole world had changed. Estel had promised they would meet again for Thorin's coronation, and Fíli's insides burned at the thought. But still, there was a small part of him - so far repressed by anger - that was glad Estel was here… even though he wouldn't dare admit that, not even to himself.

"Is Kíli all right?" Fíli murmured, his gaze dropping into his lap.

Estel took a while to answer. "He is very upset," he replied, his tone guarded.

Fíli looked up, studying Estel, knowing he was hiding something. Perhaps he had finally managed it; perhaps he had finally pushed his brother away for good.

"But he has already forgiven you," Estel added, seeing the fear in Fíli's eyes.

Fíli relaxed a little, though the news did nothing to alleviate the hot, sickly feelings of guilt stirring in his stomach. He stared at Estel, bristling under his alert, grey gaze, wondering why he was here, but having little strength left to question him. Estel seemed to sense Fíli's hostility, and he shifted on the bed, folding his hands in his lap.

"I am not here to force you into anything, Fíli," he said softly. "I am here only to listen."

Fíli raised an eyebrow; he hadn't bargained on Estel expecting him to do the talking. And he didn't even know where to begin… Or if he really wanted to relive the nightmare he had been wading through since the battle before the Front Gate. He was quiet for a long time, trying to untangle the thoughts in his head. But they were too tightly knotted and the words wouldn't come. He looked up at Estel, his eyes admitting defeat.

Estel suddenly rose from the bed, and for a panicked split-second, Fíli thought he was going to leave him. But Estel only moved to the corner of the room and collected the wooden crutches Bofur had made that were leaning against the wall. They had been there ever since Kíli had first brought them to him. Estel sat back down on the bed, laying the crutches at Fíli's feet.

"If you cannot speak to me, Fíli," he said carefully. "I would like you to speak to Thorin."

Fíli's heart jolted. Thorin. He knew his uncle's body was still laid out in Thrór's bedchamber, and Kíli was pulling every trick in the book to stall the funeral until he was well enough to attend. But he wasn't sure he would ever be well enough. And now the thought of seeing Thorin again made every part of him ache… Of course, he would give anything just to be able to talk with his uncle again, but the body lying in the bedchamber wasn't Thorin anymore, not really. He looked down at the crutches at his feet.

"You said you wouldn't force me into anything," he said, his eyes moving back to Estel.

"I am not forcing you," Estel replied patiently. "And if you can look me in the eye and tell me you do not want to speak to your uncle, I will leave you be."

Fíli stared at Estel… but he couldn't do it. Now the idea had been planted in his head, he couldn't deny the need that had arisen in him; the need to be near Thorin. Even if part of him knew his uncle wasn't really there, it was the closest he would ever get to speaking with him again.

"Thrór's chambers are only a few doors down from this room," Estel said gently, when Fíli stayed silent.

Fíli looked to the crutches again, panic swelling in his chest. Although his leg no longer pained him like it used to, and his back had stopped protesting at his every movement, Fíli had never set a foot out of bed since moving into Erebor. "I'm not strong enough," he said, shaking his head.

"You are stronger than you think," Estel said, looking at Fíli with a knowing glint in his grey eyes.

"You sound like Gandalf," Fíli said slyly.

Estel smiled, but didn't comment. Fíli waggled his toes beneath his blankets, as if to check they were still there. He closed his eyes, still trying to untangle the web of conflicted feelings rising with him… He wanted to speak to Thorin, but he was afraid of how he might react to seeing him again. The nightmares, filled with horrifying flashes of his uncle's bloodied body, were vivid enough; he didn't need to see the real thing.

"I… I can't," Fíli said finally.

"Can't or won't?" Estel asked, furrowing his brow.

It reminded Fíli of the way his mother used to scold him. "I'm not a child!" he said irritably.

"No," Estel agreed. "Not anymore."

Fíli sat back against his pillows, aware that they had reached an impasse. Estel was silent for a long time, but then he reached out a hand to one of the crutches and absent-mindedly ran a finger up and down the wood.

"When I was fourteen, I broke my leg whilst out riding with Elladan and Elrohir," he said quietly, keeping his eyes on the crutches. "We were racing each other back to Rivendell… I was in the lead, but there was a low hanging branch, and I forgot to duck."

He looked up at Fíli with a grin, and Fíli couldn't stop the small smile from tugging at his lips.

"I was knocked backwards off my horse and fell down into the creek," Estel continued. "I was unconscious for three days, and then I spent three miserable weeks in bed. As soon as it was clear I would survive, Elladan and Elrohir took great pains to torment me."

"What did they do?" Fíli asked, leaning forward slightly, unable to deny his curiosity.

Estel smirked. "They went back and cut down the branch that knocked me from my horse, and presented it to me in my room, claiming they had avenged my injury."

For the first time since the battle, Fíli laughed. He had been so sure that he would never laugh again, and it was a hollow, strange sound, but still he laughed, and Estel chuckled too.

"I hated being stuck in the sickroom." Estel's eyes were on the crutches again. "But then Lord Elrond had a pair of crutches made for me – just like these ones – and I was up and about in no time. I think I caused more mischief on those crutches than I ever did on two legs."

Fíli's eyes moved to the crutches. "Is it hard? To walk on them?"

"Not at all, once you get used to it," Estel replied. "Would you like to try?"

Fíli knew they were both avoiding mention of Thorin, even though Thrór's chamber was obviously their intended destination. For the moment it was easier to focus on the crutches, and not think about anything beyond them. Fíli nodded and slowly pulled away his bed sheets.

Estel had spotted Fíli's boots on the floor by his bed and he went to pick up the left boot. "If you could swing your good leg onto the floor," he said, with a nod. "I know Bilbo goes around Erebor barefoot, but I am not sure it will be the best idea with the amount of pressure you are going to be putting on your good foot."

Fíli did as Estel asked, and Estel came to crouch in front of him, carefully slipping on his boot.

"I am just going to move your right leg into the same position." Estel slowly slid Fíli's bandaged and splinted leg over the side of the bed, so that it dangled next to his left. Fíli winced slightly, but didn't say anything.

Estel collected the crutches and held them out to Fíli. "Grip the handles firmly and place the rests under your arms."

Fíli did as Estel instructed, and Estel helped him shift his position until he was comfortable.

"Now, straighten up, putting all your weight on your left foot," Estel said, and he placed his hands on Fíli's shoulders. "I will steady you until you find your balance."

Fíli looked down at the floor and swallowed. This wasn't going to be easy, but he was determined to try. Images of Thorin flashed before his eyes, but he forced himself to focus on the crutches. He slowly slipped from the bed, pushing all his weight onto his good foot, and bent his left knee to keep the foot hovering off the floor. He wobbled slightly, but Estel kept a firm hold of him. It was a strange experience, being upright again, and his head felt a little foggy, but the nausea soon passed.

"You need to keep looking straight ahead," Estel cautioned. "If you look at the floor, you will fall… Now, keep all your weight on your left foot, and move the crutches forward a few inches."

Estel relinquished his grip on Fíli's shoulders and stepped to the side. At first Fíli was unnerved at finding himself standing on the crutches unaided, but then he did as Estel asked and moved the crutches forward with a jerk. His balance faltered, but he managed to steady himself.

"And hop forward," Estel urged, hovering at Fíli's side.

Fíli felt slightly ridiculous hopping, and he was sure the young Estel had mastered the crutches with far more grace, but still he hopped forward awkwardly on his left foot and this time he kept his balance.

"Good!" Estel said, with a wide smile. "And again."

With Estel's coaching and gentle encouragements, Fíli slowly became acclimatised to the crutches. His movements were far from smooth, and more than once he almost fell, but Estel was always there to steady him. Fíli remembered his afternoon of training with Estel in Rivendell, and it appeared Estel knew just as much about crutches as he did about swords.

An age seemed to have passed, but finally Fíli found himself in the darkened passage-way, outside the door to Thrór's bedchamber. He gripped the crutches fiercely, his fingernails digging into his palms, and he could feel beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. His arms ached and his breathing had become ragged. The wounds on his back had flared up again with the jarring movements and he had a stitch in his side, where an arrow had once been embedded. But he knew a greater challenge lay on the other side of the door. He still wasn't sure he was ready to see Thorin, but maybe he would never be ready.

"Just a few more steps to go," Estel murmured, standing at Fíli's side.

Fíli looked up at him, his blue eyes clouded with uncertainty, but he had come this far. He nodded, then looked straight ahead. Estel opened the door and Fíli slowly moved into the room, his crutches echoing on the stone floor. He was immediately assaulted by a strange, overpowering perfume that walked the line between fragrant and foul… and Fíli realised it was there to mask the stench of death.

Thorin was lying on the large four-poster bed at the centre of the room, dressed in his finest clothes, covered with thick fur blankets pulled up to his chest, as if he were really asleep. Fíli guessed that was Kíli's doing. His step faltered, and he wasn't sure he could go any further. All the blood had been washed from Thorin's face and now it was a chalky white, as if he were made from wax. But, on closer inspection, he still wore a slight frown on his brow that made the figure before Fíli unmistakably Thorin.

Estel put a hand on Fíli's shoulder and silently gestured to the large wooden chair placed at Thorin's bedside. Fíli moved over to the chair, carefully twisting himself so that his back was facing it, and Estel helped him lower himself into it. He took the crutches and leant them against the chair's arm.

"I will be just outside if you need me," Estel said gently, and then, registering Fíli's look of obvious anxiety, added: "Speak to him, Fíli. Tell him everything you could not tell me."

Fíli glanced at Thorin. "He can't hear me."

Estel fixed Fíli with a hard stare, and he knew he was being silently reprimanded. Fíli opened his mouth to protest, but decided better of it. He sighed and turned towards Thorin. Without another word, Estel left the room, and Fíli heard a soft clunk as the door shut behind him.

Fíli wasn't sure how long he sat there in silence. It took a while for him to get his breath back after the exertion of the crutches, and he spent a long time examining the palms of his hands, where his fingernails had made red crescent moons in the skin. He then began inspecting the room, looking everywhere but at Thorin. But, eventually, his gaze came to rest on his uncle. He thought about reaching out and taking his hand, but he was scared of the cold touch that would confirm once and for all that this was no longer Thorin. Images of Thorin lying, bloodied and beaten, in the ditch in the far corner of the battle field flickered at the forefront of Fíli's mind… He could still see his uncle's wide eyes screaming up at him, begging him to run away. Screwing up his eyes, Fíli saw stars, and tried to shake the thoughts from his head.

When he opened his eyes again, blue spots speckled the edge of his vision, but Thorin was still lying there on the bed in front of him. The silence was becoming suffocating… and so, finally, Fíli gave in. Inhaling deeply, he leaned forward in his chair.

"Thorin?" he whispered. He waited a few seconds, his breaths getting caught in his throat, as if he was waiting for his uncle to answer. "I… I shouted at Kíli… again." The words sat uneasily in his mouth, but he forced himself to continue. "I was just so angry… I didn't mean to hurt him… But I did…"

Fíli glanced at the door, and then took another deep breath. "I'm not being a very good brother at the moment… Can… Can you keep an eye on Kíli for me? Please… Please just look out for him… Because I can't."

Tears began to prickle the corners of his eyes, and Fíli felt as if something was slowly thawing within him. Everything that he had kept locked away within himself was stirring to the surface, and soon the words came flooding out.

"I'm scared, Thorin… I'm so scared… and I don't know who I am anymore… I'm not ready to be King… I… I thought I was… But then you… you…"

Fíli's fingers slowly crept across the soft, grey fur blanket and touched Thorin's hand. It was ice-cold and he instinctively flinched away… but then he regained himself and took Thorin's hand in both his own, pulling it towards him. He felt Thorin's blacksmith's palm, hard and calloused beneath his fingertips.

"I… I miss you…" Fíli murmured, tears beginning to cloud his vision. "And… And I know you wanted to bring us home… But it isn't home if you're not here…"

And then Fíli began to sob. He leant forward and buried his face in the thick fur blankets, still keeping a firm hold of Thorin's hand. All the barricades he had built to try and protect himself against the grief, and the pain, and fear crumbled into dust. Everything he had been repressing since the battle, everything that had hardened his heart and driven Kíli and everyone else away, came tumbling forward in his tears. It was the release Fíli had been desperately seeking for so long, and now he embraced it, and just cried, and cried, and cried.

A/N: Wow, another long chapter, but it feels so good to be writing again. I promise updates will be far more regular from now on, but please do let me know what you thought of this chapter in the meantime!