A/N: Hey guys! Well, I have just been absolutely blown away by the response to Chapter Eight – it's provided the best end to my finals period that I could've hoped for! So an enormous thank you to everyone for reading and for your wonderful reviews, and for the favourites and follows – you have no idea how much you've made me smile! Now, here's Chapter Nine, which will hopefully prove a little less emotionally traumatic for you all…

Kíli kept his brown eyes fixed on Fíli, watching his brother's chest slowly rise and fall beneath his blankets as he slept. Waiting in Lady Arwen's room for word from Estel had been a new form of torture. More than once he had leapt from the bed and made towards the door, but Arwen had stopped him and gently talked him round. As the minutes dragged on, Kíli had realised it was probably a good sign that Estel hadn't returned; it meant Fíli had at least agreed to speak to him. Estel's plan was a good one, but it was hardly fool proof, and had depended upon Fíli co-operating. It had been obvious that Fíli was going to take a lot of coaxing as he was outdoing Thorin for stubbornness these days… Kíli instinctively flinched at the thought, picturing his uncle lying in the four-poster bed in Thrór's bedchamber. Before Estel went in to Fíli, Kíli had gone to his great-grandfather's chamber and pulled a chair up to Thorin's bedside. He had also covered his uncle in a thick, grey fur blanket, hoping it would help Fíli speak to him if he could pretend, if only for a second, that Thorin was really asleep.

The waiting had made Kíli restless. Elladan and Elrohir had come to keep him company, asking him about the progress he had made with his archery. But this only conjured grim flash-backs to the battle before the Front Gate and Arwen had shooed her brothers away when it was clear they weren't helping. Finally, when Kíli was ready to start tearing at his hair, Estel had returned, bringing news that Fíli had agreed to see Thorin and was already quite adept at walking on crutches. Kíli couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, but still it had made his heart soar. Estel remained a little guarded about what he and Fíli had actually discussed, and about what had transpired once Fíli was left alone with Thorin, but Kíli hadn't pressed the matter. He had only asked one thing:

"Is he still angry with me?"

"No. I am sure he is far angrier with himself."

Fíli had returned to his own room, and with his strength flagging, he had needed a little more help from Estel than he had done in the outward journey. Estel had settled him back into bed and he had quickly fallen asleep, clearly physically and emotionally exhausted from the excursion. Kíli watched his brother now and was reminded of the incident back in Fíli's tent, when Fíli had first managed to sit up in bed and the effort had cost him dearly. Fíli's face was pale, almost an ashy grey, and his eyelids looked sore and red. Kíli knew he must have been crying. His stomach twisted in a sickly motion as he endured another stint of waiting, and he dreaded to think how Fíli would react when he woke up. He really hoped speaking to Thorin had been a help, and hadn't set him even further back, but Estel assured him this was a positive first step on Fíli's road to recovery. Kíli was reminded of the quite literal first steps his brother had taken by the wooden crutches, which had previously been leaning against the opposite wall, that were now resting against Fíli's bedside table, well within easy reach. Kíli couldn't wait to tell Bofur.

Suddenly, Fíli stirred. Kíli was sure he stopped breathing entirely as his brother's eyes fluttered open. They peered up, blearily, at the ceiling for a few moments then slowly came to rest on him.

"Kíli?"

Kíli froze. Fíli's blue eyes were yet to harden as they stared at him. For the first time in weeks, Kíli felt that his brother, and not a stranger, was looking back at him. He reached out a hand to Fíli's shoulder, and was about to tell him to take his time in coming round, when all of a sudden Fíli lurched bolt upright and threw his arms around Kíli, pulling him into a crushing embrace.

Stunned by the gesture, it took Kíli a few moments to register what was happening, but then he wrapped his arms around Fíli and buried his head in his brother's shoulder, pushing his nose into his blonde hair. Fíli was holding him so tightly, as if he were scared that if he didn't, Kíli would disappear and be lost to him. And then Fíli's shoulders began to shake and Kíli could feel him trembling in his arms. His soft sobs were muffled by Kíli's shoulder.

"Oh, Fíli… It's all right…" Kíli whispered, holding his brother closer. He knew he had broken his cardinal rule about telling Fíli it was all right when it wasn't. But he suspected this wasn't entirely about Thorin.

As if to confirm Kíli's thoughts, Fíli slowly moved his head so that he could speak without his voice being drowned out by Kíli's coat. "I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry…"

Kíli had never heard his brother's voice sound so small. "Fíli…" he said gently. He sensed his brother had cried enough that afternoon, and didn't want him shedding any unnecessary tears.

"I'm a… terrible brother…" Fíli gasped out between sobs, his fingers bunching around the fabric of Kíli's coat as he clung to him.

"Of course you aren't," Kíli soothed, resting his chin on Fíli's shoulder. "You had every right to be angry… I should've told you I had sent for Estel."

Kíli thought back to their first argument in Fíli's tent. "I… I think I'm going mad, Kíli…", "No, you're not… And you won't… I won't let you, I promise…"

"I just wanted to keep my promise," Kíli murmured, screwing up his eyes against his own tears.

Fíli slowly began to quieten, and finally he pulled away, brushing the stray strands of blonde hair from his face as they had been matted to his cheeks as he cried. He studied Kíli, his blue eyes cloudy. "Do you forgive me?" he asked, his voice strained.

"You shouldn't even have to ask," Kíli replied warmly, putting a firm hand on his brother's shoulder. "Of course I do."

Fíli's eyes travelled down to Kíli's hand, which was newly bandaged. "Kíli," he breathed. "Your hand…"

Kíli winced. He knew Fíli would notice and had tried to persuade Arwen that it didn't need to be bandaged, but Elrond's daughter was having none of it. "If I tell you I tripped will you believe me?" he said weakly.

Fíli stared at Kíli as the truth dawned on him and his face seemed to grow even paler. "Kíli…" His voice was heavy with remorse.

"I'm fine," Kíli said softly. He didn't want Fíli to have to suffer any more guilt… And he was also terrified of the stony look returning to his brother's eyes. "It just seems both of us have inherited the Durin temper," he said, managing a smile. "And my fingers were healing too quickly for my liking."

Much to Kíli's surprise, a small smile actually appeared on Fíli's lips, and he felt his heart soar again. Part of him was desperate to ask Fíli about what Estel had said to bring about this change, and about his visit to Thorin, but he knew not to push the subject just yet.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked gently, as Fíli settled back into his pillows.

Fíli suddenly froze, his blue eyes wide. His gaze dropped to his stomach then sprang back to Kíli, and he studied his brother with a look of shock.

"Fíli?" Kíli gasped, his voice tense. "What is it?"

"I… I think I'm hungry," Fíli whispered, his voice full of wonder.

Kíli couldn't stop the huge grin that broke out on his face. He knew Fíli hadn't been eating since the battle; he never asked for food, and ate only because Óin forced the small, daily meals into him. But now Fíli was staring at him with such a look of surprise, as if he'd forgotten what it felt like to be hungry.

"I'll get Bofur to prepare something for you right away," Kíli beamed, and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry with joy.

The fire in Elladan and Elrohir's room on the guard corridor crackled merrily to itself in the grate. As it was the larger of the two rooms occupied by the Rivendell party, the twins' room that they shared with Estel had been chosen for the impromptu meeting to discuss Fíli's progress. Elladan and Elrohir stood, leaning against the fireplace, every so often exchanging glances, and Kíli was sure the pair had some form of telepathy working between them. Estel and Arwen were sitting side by side on one of the beds, and Kíli had taken the chair pulled up to the fire at Elrohir's side. And Dwalin was standing by the door.

Kíli hadn't explicitly asked Dwalin to the meeting, but ever since they had moved into Erebor, Kíli had sensed the older dwarf shadowing his movements from time to time. He often came to check on him whilst he was working with the digging parties, and on the first morning in the Mountain, Kíli had come out of his room to find Dwalin asleep by the door, slumped against the wall of the passage-way. Kíli suspected this had something to do with a promise Dwalin had once made to Thorin.

The company had been thrilled to hear that Fíli was out of bed, though none of them asked about the specifics of his excursion. Bofur had almost tripped over his own feet and gone hat-first onto the ground in his excitement to prepare Fíli's requested meal. He had asked Kíli if he could deliver it to Fíli personally, but Kíli hadn't wanted to push his brother too far. He knew the situation was delicate, and one foot wrong could catapult Fíli back into blackness. They needed to be careful. Kíli had left the company's fire and headed towards the old guard corridor, only to find Dwalin falling into step at his side. He hadn't commented as he sensed Dwalin was joining him because he cared about Fíli's welfare as much as he did. His promise to Thorin dictated it.

Kíli glanced across at Dwalin now, standing like a sentry on duty by the door. His axes, Grasper and Keeper, were strapped to his back. Kíli wasn't quite sure why Dwalin felt the need to be armed, but, then again, he also kept casting dirty looks over at Elladan and Elrohir, so Kíli decided not to mention it. Dwalin hadn't been as quick as the others to trust the elves during their time in Rivendell, and he was clearly still trying to make up his mind. Kíli's gaze moved back to Estel, aware that everyone was now waiting for him to begin the discussion.

"Now that Fíli has allowed me to speak to him," Estel began, turning away from Arwen to address the whole room. "We need to try and convince him to speak to others. But it is important that we do not try to tackle the subject of the succession just yet."

Estel's grey eyes moved to Kíli. "We must get Fíli feeling more like his old self again before anyone even mentions the crown. He needs to work through his grief first and remember who he was before any of this happened. Only then will he be ready to consider his status as Thorin's heir."

There was a murmur of agreement from everyone, and then they fell silent, waiting for Estel to continue. "Of course, Fíli needs to be given space to grieve, but he cannot continue this solitary life he has been living. He has walled himself up in his mind and needs others to coax him out."

Estel looked from Kíli to Dwalin. "We will start small. Can you think which member of your company Fíli would find least threatening?"

Kíli and Dwalin exchanged glances. "Ori," they said in unison.

Estel smiled and turned to Kíli. "See if you can persuade Fíli to speak to Ori. I am sure even five minutes of conversation will be a great help to Fíli, to give him some sense of normality again."

Kíli nodded. "And you will speak to him again, won't you?" he asked quietly. He had witnessed for himself the change that one discussion with Estel could work on Fíli, and he was anxious to see Fíli improve further.

"Of course," Estel replied knowingly. "But only when Fíli asks for me. He is well aware of why I am here and I do not want him to feel pressured into anything."

Kíli knew Estel was right, but still his shoulders slumped slightly. He was about to reply when there was a knock at the door. Everyone froze and exchanged concerned glances. They weren't expecting anyone else. Dwalin moved to the door, flexing his fingers, and slowly opened it, his huge, imposing form filling the doorway.

"Oh, for Durin's sake, Dwalin!" Balin's voice sounded from the corridor. "Who were you expecting? A Balrog of Morgoth?"

Dwalin reluctantly moved away from the door with a scowl. "No, something worse," he replied gruffly. "One of Dáin's councillors."

Balin flinched ever so slightly at Dwalin's words, and Kíli felt his stomach sink. What had Dáin's council done now? Balin moved into the room, clearly unsurprised by Dwalin's presence there. He turned to Lady Arwen and gave a short bow.

"My lady," he said kindly, his troubled eyes moving to Estel, and then to Kíli. "I've just come from a council meeting with Dáin… Suffice to say, news of Fíli's little, er, excursion this afternoon has reached the councillors and they aren't happy about it."

"I bet they aren't," Dwalin growled, taking up his position by the door once again.

"What's happened, Balin?" Kíli asked, feeling his throat tighten with every word.

Balin sighed, his gaze moving around the room again before it came to rest on Kíli. "Dáin won't wait any longer. He wants Thorin's funeral arranged for the end of the week."

Kíli tightened his grip on the wooden arms of his chair. He knew what Dáin was up to. "Can't you stall him?" he murmured, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"Laddie, you and I both know we've been stalling Dáin for weeks," Balin answered, his eyes lit with a sad twinkle. "He is done waiting."

"Because now he's worried that if he waits, Fíli might be well enough to be there," Kíli said, looking to Estel, who had been studying him curiously for answers.

Estel's grey eyes darkened as he realised Kíli's meaning. "He knows if Fíli does not attend the funeral, it will confirm all suspicions that he is not fit to be King. He wishes to deny Fíli this first public appearance and chance of closure."

"Exactly," Kíli said grimly. He turned to Balin. "I thought Dáin was better than this… Fíli and I are his kin…"

"I know, lad," Balin sighed. "But I don't believe this is wholly Dáin's decision. He has been swayed by his councillors, and unfortunately they have far greater influence over him than we ever will."

A glum silence descended over the room, but then Estel spoke up: "And so there is only one way forward." His voice was full of determination. "Thorin's funeral will be one of the greatest challenges of Fíli's life, and we have three days to ensure he is ready for it."

"… And you must under no circumstances mention Thorin… Unless he mentions him first… If he does, you make sure you be tactful about it…"

Kíli watched with a small smile as Dori dusted down Ori's knitted cardigan and then went to clean his face again with a wet cloth. Ori shrunk away and looked to Kíli, his wide eyes begging for help.

"Dori, he'll be fine," Kíli said, putting a hand on Dori's shoulder to try and stop him fussing. "It's just Fíli, no one else."

Dori lowered the cloth from Ori's face and nodded reluctantly. Ori still looked mildly mortified at having been summoned, and Kíli knew Fíli was just as nervous. It had taken him some time to agree to the visit, but in the end he had asked to see both Ori and Bofur, wanting to thank them for their gifts of the blanket and wooden crutches. Kíli and Estel had agreed to wait and see how Fíli coped with these first visitors before they broke the news to him about Thorin's funeral.

Kíli gave Ori a warm smile of encouragement. "He wants to see you, Ori. Just talk to him about what you've been up to… Pretend you're both still on the journey over here and you've just sat down by the fire after a long day's trek."

"What I've been up to…" Ori repeated quietly, and then a light seemed to go on in his eyes and he suddenly disappeared into his tent.

"All set, Kíli." Bofur appeared at Kíli's side, his face and hands newly washed and scrubbed.

After a pause he reached up and adjusted his hat again, and Kíli was shocked when he realised just how anxious Bofur actually was. His stomach squirmed again; this meeting could turn out to be a disaster. But he had faith in all that Estel had said, and he knew it would do Fíli good to speak to the company again.

Ori reappeared from his tent, clutching the brown, leather-bound sketchbook that he had carried with him throughout their journey to Erebor. He smiled meekly at Kíli, who returned another encouraging smile. With the two visitors now ready, Kíli ushered them away from the company's fire, and towards Fíli's room.

Fíli continued to wring his hands as he glanced, nervously, towards the door, waiting for Ori and Bofur to arrive. He felt sick to his stomach and he was sure he was actually sweating. Kíli had tentatively asked him if there was anyone else he might like to speak to, and at first he had refused to see anyone. Although his mind felt a little clearer, he was still plagued by visions of Thorin lying in the four-poster bed in Thrór's bedchamber. But Fíli was aware that these flashes of Thorin in his mind's eye were mostly just symptomatic of his desire to speak to his uncle again. Estel had been right in thinking the only person he really wanted to speak to was Thorin. He had told Kíli so, but still his brother had managed to gently talk him round.

Fíli couldn't deny that he had, in part, given in to Kíli because he didn't want to upset him any further. His thoughts kept wandering back to Kíli's freshly bandaged hand and his chest ached when he heard his own voice bellowing inside his head: "GET OUT!" He was determined to make it up to Kíli and never lose his temper like that again. So he had agreed to speak to other members of the company. He knew he should really be speaking to Balin and Dwalin; those who had been most affected by Thorin's death. But he sensed Balin was too involved in the politics of the succession, and he couldn't bear to see the crown reflected in Balin's eyes. And Fíli knew Dwalin's grief rivalled his own. The older dwarf had been so close to Thorin, and Fíli wasn't sure he was ready to face him just yet. Not when part of him still felt responsible for the cause of Dwalin's pain. So he had asked to see Ori and Bofur, members of the company at a remove from Thorin's death, so that he could thank Ori for the blanket and Bofur for the crutches.

Ori's blanket was laid out on his bed now, and his fingers curled around it when he heard the door creak. Kíli entered the room, and Ori and Bofur slowly shuffled in behind him. At first they fought to avoid Fíli's eye and began fidgeting with their clothes, and Fíli realised they were as nervous as he was. His heart began a frantic thump against his chest as they moved closer, and Ori had to be practically dragged to his bedside by Kíli. Fíli had been through everything with Ori and Bofur and now he was scared of the unnerving atmosphere in the room that made them feel like strangers. An awkward silence settled over them.

"You're looking well, lad," Bofur offered, when no one spoke. He managed his familiar, wide smile, and it made Fíli feel a little better.

"Thank you for the crutches," Fíli murmured, his gaze moving to the wooden crutches leaning against his bedside table. "They're… They're the perfect height."

"I'm glad to hear it," Bofur replied, his smile unwavering. "I'm just happy I could help you get back on your feet."

Fíli nodded, and then turned to Ori, who was staring at him with the look of a startled squirrel. He clutched his sketchbook to his chest; he never seemed to go anywhere without it, and at that moment it seemed to be serving its purpose as a comfort blanket. Fíli looked down at his own brown and gold blanket.

"And thank you for the blanket, Ori," he said, wondering how he could make Ori feel more at ease when he could feel his own fingers shaking.

Ori flinched when he heard his name, and didn't seem quite capable of a verbal response. He only gave a few quick nods and bit his lip. Fíli cast a side-ways glance at Kíli, who seemed equally aware that the visit might be over before it had even started. But then Ori suddenly took a bold step forward.

"I… I brought my s-sketchbook to show you," he stammered, thrusting the leather-bound book towards Fíli.

Although startled, Fíli accepted the sketchbook and opened it up in his lap.

"Kíli said to tell you what I'd been up to…" Ori explained, his voice quivering slightly. "And… And Estel told me you might be having trouble remembering who you are… So I thought this might help."

Fíli's eyes darted up from the book, and he felt Kíli tense at his side. Ori had obviously revealed more than was intended about what had been discussed before the visit. Fíli's stomach felt like it was turning itself inside out and his heart was throwing itself against his ribcage… His mind returned to Thorin's bedside and he heard himself whimper: "I'm scared, Thorin… I'm so scared… and I don't know who I am anymore…" The sketchbook's pages began to tremble beneath his fingers.

Kíli seemed on the verge of bringing the visit to an end, but Ori continued, seemingly unfazed. "See… This is the start of our journey at Bag End… And these are your weapons…"

Ori turned the sketchbook's thick, yellow pages back to the beginning and Fíli found himself looking at a beautiful ink drawing of Bilbo's round front door. It was intricately detailed and Fíli could make out each individual flower in the window boxes beside the door. Ori had even included the rune Gandalf had carved into the wood. Ori's finger moved to the opposing page and pointed to another set of intricate sketches, showing Fíli's twin falchions and his throwing knives. Fíli could suddenly picture himself back at Bag End, handing over his weapons to the startled hobbit who had greeted him and Kíli at the door. "Careful with these… I've just had them sharpened."

An unconscious smile flickered onto Fíli's lips. Spurred on by this, Ori began to turn the pages again. A wealth of black ink drawings and Cirth inscriptions passed by in a blur until Ori found his next intended page. Fíli's heart skipped a beat. He recognised the scene rendered in ink before him.

"This is our battle with the wargs out on the plains," Ori explained, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's what I saw from the tunnel."

The drawing was framed by the mouth of the tunnel the company had been hiding in when Kíli was shot down by an orc arrow and Thorin had been injured trying to protect him. Fíli could make out the shadowy form of his fallen brother sketched into the grass with a warg fast approaching him. And at the centre of the drawing, Fíli recognised himself, climbing out of the tunnel, one falchion raised as he charged back out onto the plains. Fíli's eyes moved down to the caption Ori had added beneath the sketch and his eyes widened. It read: 'Fíli leads the company into battle.'

"Thorin!"

Arwen froze as she shut the door to her room behind her. Straightening up, she peered up and down the corridor, feeling her pulse quicken. She was sure it had been Fíli's voice she had heard, but she knew it couldn't have possibly reached her from his room, which was located several corridors away from her own. And the voice had sounded soft, almost scolding. It wasn't the sound of someone having a nightmare.

Suddenly, something brushed the bottom of her dress and her heart jolted. An impossibly small child rushed passed her, his blonde hair bouncing as he ran down the corridor. His hair was wild and unruly, apart from the strands that were pulled into a braid at the back of his head, fastened with a silver pin that looked somehow familiar. Arwen watched, hardly daring to breathe, as the child approached a figure that had materialised, standing in profile, at the other end of the corridor. It was Fíli. Only not as Arwen knew him.

He was dressed in rich clothes of deep red and gold, and his coat was lined with thick brown fur. His beard had grown considerably, down to his chest, though his still kept his moustache tied in braids. And upon his head was the crown Arwen had seen depicted in the sketch of Thrór in the book she had given Fíli when they met in Rivendell. Fíli turned towards the child approaching him and Arwen's heart skipped a beat when she realised he was holding another child, even smaller than the one coming to his side. The child's dark brown hair was braided with blue ribbons and her features were freckled and petite… Fíli's daughter.

"Thorin, hurry!" Fíli chided, holding out his hand to the child with a sigh.

The blonde-haired boy reached his father and took his hand, turning back to look at Arwen. His eyes were a bright blue, identical to the pair that were now also staring down the corridor at her. Fíli fixed Arwen with his blue gaze, and a small smile appeared on his lips. Arwen opened her mouth to say something, but then a hand suddenly fell down on her shoulder. She spun around to find Estel studying her with a curious expression.

"Arwen?" he murmured, his grey eyes almost fearful.

Arwen blinked and felt the salt water sting her eyes. She hadn't even realised she was crying. She glanced back over her shoulder, and Estel followed her gaze down the corridor.

He was quiet for a long time, until, finally, he whispered: "You saw something?"

"Fíli," Arwen replied, her voice choked. "I have to speak to Fíli."

A/N: The fight with the wargs out on the plains depicted in Ori's sketchbook can be found in Chapter One of 'Family Tree', if anyone is interested, and as always, please do let me know your thoughts on this chapter!