A/N: This one is a bit long, sorry! I changed my tumblr URL to pxnds, in case any of you were trying to find me (: I'm working on chapter four, so hopefully that will be up soon! I know I say this a lot, but reviews really do make my day. Thanks for reading!
Fili awoke to the sounds of birds chirping high in the trees and creatures rustling in the undergrowth. The morning sun shone bright and clear, and the ground was wet with dew. He rose quickly and ate a small breakfast. After feeding his pony and gathering his things, Fili set off once more on his journey to save his brother.
It had been less than a day since the elf-witch Elenwen had spelled Kili, nearly killing him. Summoned by Kazryk, Balin had tended to Thorin's wounds but could not cure Kili. He had said it was only a matter of time before he died. Fili had set out immediately, his tears mixing with the heavy downpour of rain, in search of Gandalf, the wizard he believed could heal his brother.
Fili had decided to begin his search in the Misty Mountains. Not knowing how long Kili had, he'd chosen to ride straight for the Mountains, only stopping when he or his pony was about to collapse from exhaustion. He predicted that with the best conditions, it would take two days to reach his destination, and at least another to find Gandalf.
Fili refused to cry. He refused to lose hope. He'd sworn to his brother that he'd be back soon.
"Don't go," Kili had pleaded, "Not now. I need you. What if I…"
"Don't think that, Kili, please. I wouldn't go if I had a choice. You know that better than anyone."
"I know," he whispered. "I just wish – I just wish I'd been able to tell you before…"
Fili gripped his brother's hand, drawing strength from the contact. "What?"
"I love you." Tears sprung from Kili's eyes. "I've never said it before. But you're my brother. My only brother. And you mean the world to me."
Fili laughed and cried at the same time. "Kili, it never needed saying."
Fili reached the Misty Mountains at dusk on the second day. He reigned in his pony and sat back, staring up at the vast range of snow-covered peaks. Somewhere in the midst of that looming pile of rocks was the one who could save his brother. But how would he ever be able to find the wizard? He could be anywhere. If only there was some sort of sign that could lead Fili to his friend.
As if on cue, the sounds of goblins screeching their battle cries leapt from the mountainside; a small horde of them came running out of a concealed door in the mountain, chasing after a cloaked figure. Fili recognized the door to be the same one he and his friends had escaped from about fifty years ago. He looked more closely at the cloaked person and saw a hat, grey and pointed, atop his head and a long, wooden staff in his hand. Gandalf!
Fili spurred his pony into action, choosing a path that would place him between the goblins and the wizard. As he approached, Gandalf turned and cast a spell at the goblins, blinding them with light. They screamed and covered their faces, stumbling backwards and tripping over one another. At last the wizard noticed Fili approaching him. He drew his sword warily, but sheathed it when he heard Fili's shout.
"Gandalf! It's me! Fili! I need your help!"
"This is not the place to exchange words, I'm afraid. Let us go someplace safe, eh?" Gandalf turned and whistled a few high-pitched notes and waited. Some of the goblins had recovered from the spell and were regrouping. They began to slowly advance towards the two friends.
Noticing this, Fili took a crossbow from his saddlebag. He shot a few bolts at the goblins, and turned back in time to see a white horse approach. He recognized Shadowfax immediately. Gandalf mounted his steed and looked back at Fili. "Follow me, quickly now!" he said, then turned and galloped down the mountainside. Fili urged his horse forward, following swiftly in Gandalf's wake.
Together, the pair quickly outpaced the goblins and headed towards Mirkwood. They stopped at the outskirts of the forest, and Fili briefed Gandalf on what had happened at Erebor. After he had finished, Gandalf sighed and smoked his pipe for a few moments. At last he snuffed out his pipe and looked Fili hard in the eyes. "You said Elenwen spelled your brother?"
Fili nodded. "Aye. Can you help him, Gandalf?" He leaned forward hopefully, like a small child eagerly awaiting some form of praise.
Gandalf looked away. "It has been a long time since I have dealt with magical wounds. I'll see what I can do." He looked up at Fili with a sad smile playing on his lips.
The two companions rode into Erebor a day later. Gandalf leapt off his horse and headed straight towards Kili's chambers. A small crowd had gathered to welcome their prince home, but they hastily stepped aside as the wizard plowed through them, Fili following close behind. Gandalf headed to Kili's room, Fili to Kazryk's. His first instinct was to make sure his brother was alive, but he knew it wouldn't do much. He thought it best to leave Gandalf alone while he treated Kili.
The door to Kazryk's room was shut, but the guard Fili had appointed to watch over his son was missing. His pace quickened in time with his heartbeat. There were faint signs of blood on the floor, as if someone had attacked the soldier. Fili tried the doorknob. Locked. He pounded on the door, shouting, "Kaz! Kazryk, can you hear me? Are you all right?"
No response. Fili's heart leapt into his mouth, and he got a hollow feeling in his stomach. Someone had attacked his family. Again. A strange feeling engulfed him, like an unquenchable fire. His insides burned, fueling his actions and making him feel lightheaded. Who dared threaten the Line of Durin? He would make them pay for what they did. He'd hunt them down and kill them himself. He swore he'd be the last thing they saw.
Fueled by his anger, Fili kicked open the door and rushed into the room. He stopped, looking around. There was no one in the room. He felt confused. For some strange reason, he had expected his son to be lying safe in his bed, as if knocking down the door would bring him back. His anger dissolved into helplessness and sorrow. He slowly walked over to the lone window. It hung open, overlooking the stone courtyard that led to the outside of Erebor. Soldiers ran about below, searching for something. Or someone.
Fili turned around at the sounds of footsteps behind him. Balin stood at the entrance to the room. He wrung his hands nervously and ran his fingers through his beard, as if uncomfortable with the happenings. Fili took a step towards him, fists clenched, anger returning. It was Balin's fault Kazryk was gone. He was supposed to look after him; he was the one Fili had trusted when he left to search for Gandalf. The old dwarf didn't know a thing about taking care of children; he only knew how to care for wounds and sicknesses. That's what he was, Fili realized. A sickness. He wasn't worth anything to the kingdom. He was an infection, an plague slowly working its way through Erebor. Fili was barely able to bring himself to speak, but when he did, his voice was low and quiet, almost threatening. "Where is he? Where is my son?"
Balin could not bring himself to meet Fili's gaze. "I'm sorry, sire," he whispered, "He's been taken."