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"Fíli! Fíli! Where are you?" Thráin yelled in the deepest part of Mirkwood.
"Fíli! Come on out, the game is over. You won!" Legolas yelled in a different direction.
"Fíli! Fíli! Son, are you here?" Víli screamed.
All that was met was the echoes of their own voices yelling the name of the missing dwarfling in the stillness of the Mirkwood forest.
This was not funny anymore, thought Thórin. His nephew was missing, his dear, sweet Fíli, whom in his short life was probably the most important person in Thórin's life. Now he was missing, and the only person to blame was himself.
To make matters worse, he by extension, had turned everyone in his family against him. His own father will not even look him in the eye, over what he said and did. His sister had only said one sentence to him in anger before he left her with an unconscious Kíli and ran to join the search party for Fíli. His brother-in-law could not even look in his direction. He did not even want to think about what his grandfather thought of him back home.
When it came to Fíli, he could care less about what his brother thought. He was even sure Legolas and Tauriel were against him as well, once they had been told by Thráin what had happened. Thórin felt sick about the feeling of Thranduil hating him, as one of his close friends. He truly was all alone in the world. He felt lonely, guilty, and just plain awful about himself. He could guarantee he probably felt worse than he imagined Fíli to be feeling, wherever he was.
As far back as he could remember, he had been taught not to show emotion in front of other people no matter whom they are to him. Nevertheless, all he felt like doing was crying. He felt like crying for what he did to Kíli, and what he said to Fíli. Thórin wanted to cry for the broken relationships he was not sure he could repair. It was him who had caused the damage, and he would never forget it for the rest of his life.
Thórin and his cousin/bodyguard, Dwalin were in the training room dueling with new swords made by the royal blacksmith. Víli and Frérin were sitting underneath a worn stone statue of Durin that had been there for centuries watching the dance of swords. It was an evenly match duel with two dwarves that had been training partners and brothers-in-arms throughout their entire lives. Thórin could say that he was in battle mode where nothing from the outside world seemed to matter, save for his opponent.
"Fee, catch me!" a very young voice cried, muffled from the closed stone door.
Energetic laughter answered. Two dwarfling princes who were done with lessons for the day were now creating havoc and chaos throughout Erebor, causing their mother and guards grief. Normally when Throin and Dwalin would hear Fíli or Kíli's voice behind the door the duel would stop in its tracks, and end for the day. However, today it just wanted to continue, neither of them wanting to stop.
Suddenly and unexpectedly, the door to the training room opened up and 15-year-old Kíli came running into the room followed by his 20-year-old golden haired brother, a room both princes knew they were banned from entering, especially when the door was closed.
"I'm going to get you, Kíli!" Fíli yelled in laughter, completely oblivious to the danger that his uncle and cousin were presenting to them.
In his laughter, Kíli spotted his father and younger uncle sitting beneath the statue. He wanted his father to join in his and Fíli's fun. Kíli darted right down the middle of the room towards his father, right into the midst of the duel. Kíli had one destination in mind, the stone statue where his father and uncle were sitting. Abruptly Kíli screamed in pain, as he passed his older uncle. Thórin, not paying attention had swung his sword and hit Kíli in the head with the handle, and somehow bringing him airborne where he came to rest just feet from where Víli and Frérin were sitting on the statue.
"KIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLIIIIII!" Fíli yelled effectively ending the duel, bringing Thórin and Dwalin back to reality.
There was silence in the room as the two swords were dropped to the floor with a clink and clank. Frérin and Víli immediately stood up and ran to where Kíli had landed. Fíli stood there looking at his brother in horror, what had just happened? Thórin could honestly say he had Dwalin to thank for acting quickly to run out of the room to get a healer for that what his nephew needed. All he could do was stare at the motionless dwarfling on the floor.
Reacting first, Frérin picked up his youngest nephew, and made way to leave the room to the infirmary, Víli on his heels. That left Thórin with Fíli who was now in tears. This normally would be normal, for lately Dís and Víli were allowing him to discipline Fíli. They felt that at twenty, it was time for him to learn to be an heir to the throne, something that would inevitably be his in the future.
Seeing Fíli cry sparked something in Thórin. He was extremely worried about Kíli, but he was madder at Fíli for even allowing this to happen. Both princes knew that the training room was banned until they were much older. Whose idea it was to open the door and run into the room was beyond him, but he was livid that both boys had disobeyed the rules. Even worse, was the fact that he had just told Fíli the previous evening that it was still banned to him when he asked when he could begin to learn to wield a weapon.
"What were you thinking, Fíli? Allowing your brother to run into this room and for you to follow him not even trying to stop him, but in laughter nonetheless! What were you thinking?" Thórin let his anger talk.
Fíli sniffled, looked down at the floor, and mumbled something incomprehensible. There was nothing but guilt in his golden nephew's eyes, and Fíli knew that Thórin could see it.
"What did you say?" Thórin asked angrily, probably the first time in Fíli's life that Thórin's anger was directed directly at him. He's been angry in front of Fíli before, but never once was this angry at him.
"Sorry," was all Fíli could say as he continued to look at the floor.
Thórin had had enough. He grabbed Fíli's chin and made him look him in the eye.
"Sorry? Sorry? Look what happened and all you can say is sorry? You have been told multiple times, you and your brother both not to come into the room. If I remember correctly and my memory is not fading, I just told you yesterday! As the older brother, you should have been watching him, should have stopped him from entering this room, but did you? No, you decided to drop down to his level! And what's the worst part about it is that you were laughing about it." Thórin yelled at his nephew.
Thórin dropped Fíli's chin, and allowed him a moment of tears, when he heard Fíli sniffling to the floor. "What do you have to say for yourself?" Thórin said through gritted teeth.
"I'm sorry uncle." Fíli all but whispered.
"What did you say?" Thórin yelled again.
"I said I'm sorry uncle!" Fíli shouted the last word.
Thórin was beyond mad at that point. Fíli should have known better and he knew it. Moreover, all he could say was I'm sorry?
"Sorry again? How dare you! How dare you apologize to me! You knew you were wrong! You knew it! As third in line for the throne you should know better! YOU'RE NO HEIR OF MINE! GET OUT! I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE!" Thórin screamed.
Fíli did not have to be told twice he turned and left the room before his beloved uncle could see him cry. The second Fíli left, Thórin fell to his knees in tears of his own. What had he just done to both his nephews? The rest of the day was a blur to him, as everyone in the royal quarters seemed to ignore him, servants and family members alike. He did not even realize Fíli was missing until Dis found him in the hallway in tears later on the evening.
"Thórin, how could you?" She left almost as soon as she had come.
Punzzled by this, Thórin ran to the gate and saw his father, Frérin, Víli, and a contingent of guards including Dwalin and a few others he recognized including Gloin, Dori, and Nori heading down the path to Dale. He asked the gatekeeper where they were going. Those words he said would haunt Thórin forever.
"They're going to go find Prince Fíli, my lord. He is not in the mountain."
Thórin felt his eyes widen. What had he done? At that moment, he regretted what he had said in the training room more than anything. Thórin knew what he had do, he had to fix this, make this right. He could not currently help Kíli, but he certainly can help find Fíli. Since this was his fault. He turned on his heels and ran back to his room. Thórin quickly grabbed his pack, sword, and water skin that were stored in the bottom of his wardrobe.
Leaving his room, he had no trouble dodging servants since no one seemed to want to be in his path, and he did not blame them for that. He made it to the kitchen in what had to be a new time record, grabbed some bread, and salted meat. He filled up his water skin using the pump that was installed when Thórin himself was Kíli's age. He turned to leave the kitchen when he found himself looking at a much older version of himself who was blocking the only way out. Thórin gulped at this unexpected meeting, he did not want to see anyone, but someone had found him. His grandfather, Thrór, King under the Mountain stared at him. Thórin could only stare back.
Seeing an exit behind the King, Thórin tried to go around his grandfather, but the king sensed this and put his arm out to block his mad dash.
"My king?" Thórin asked in question. He was sure Thrór would be glad to get rid of him after what he did.
"You caused this, now you fix this." Thrór said to him as he put his arm down.
Throin could only nod in acknowledgement as he ran past the king, to the gate, and sprinted to catch up with the search party…
In reality, it had been six days, nearly a full week since he had last seen his nephew. Or was it a full week? Thórin had truly lost track of time, and himself. All someone had to do was look at him to realize that something was wrong. He refused to braid his hair and his beard, something unheard of for the second in line to the throne. To be honest with himself he did not care anymore. He was all but an outcast from his own family, and Thórin was beginning to feel isolated. If anyone would give him the time of day, he would at least look presentable but no one cared about him and he did not care about himself. He wanted someone to talk to him; he needed someone to talk to him. He needed to apologize, especially to Víli for both his nephews. He was mad at himself for what happened to Kíli and took it out on the one who could not defend himself. Thórin was sorry for it all.
Once Fíli was found, he was going to apologize, and hold him in his arms and never let him go. He just hoped he did not ruin the relationship between him and his nephew forever. The last thing he wanted to do was lose Fíli to Frérin. Out of all the possible outcomes, that was the least acceptable. Dís, Víli, and himself had done a good job in Fíli's life to keep his brother away from him. His best friend had already tried to take Fíli from them once, and although it had never been proven, Thórin was certain Frérin was involved in the plot.
There was never a reason that would allow Frérin to be in the same room alone with Fíli. If Fíli's parents were not with him, then Thórin would be there. Thórin had become more like a second father to Fíli than an uncle because of this. It took a lot of convincing from Thráin and Thrór for Dís and Víli to even allow Frérin to hold baby Kíli when he finally made his appearance. At least Frérin could be an uncle to one of their nephews.
So engrossed in his memories was he, he did not realize he was crying while staring at the trunk of a tree. He was beginning to lose hope of ever getting his family back Thórin did not even hear Tauriel come up next to him. He barely felt her put her hand on his shoulder, his first person-to-person contact with someone else in what was beginning to feel like a lifetime.
He leaned into his friend's touch, milking it for all it was worth. All of the sudden, a cry went out. Tauriel released him and both of them ran to the center of the search area where their party had gathered. Víli was in the center of it holding some objects with Legolas looking solemn. Thórin at that point could not stop the tears from flowing.
For in Víli's hands was a lock of blonde curly hair and a piece of ripped cloth. At closer inspection, the ripped cloth was Durin blue and had half the symbol of the royal house on it. It could only belong to Fíli. Thórin choked on his own tears.
A finger jerked, or so Narvi thought. He had casted out everyone in the royal family save for cousin Oin who he had sent out to get some hot tea for them. Therefore, it was just him and the listless prince. Narvi had to admit he was scared that Kíli was never going to wake, and when he did, he would never be the same. Head injuries were funny, you never know what's going to happen with them. What will the person lose? Will they ever gain it back? Narvi glanced at the prince's still face. It had been too long since he had seen that heart warming smile. Kíli was known throughout Middle Earth of having a very infectious smile that everyone loved to see on him. He missed the smile and his laughter. He even missed his brother and him coming into him almost every hour on the hour with their latest scrape or bump that they needed fixed. Would he ever have that happen again?
Narvi reached out to smooth Kíli's dark hair back away from his closed eyes. He immediately pulled back; he could have sworn he felt his eyes twitch. He turned his gaze to Kíli's hands again, this time he did not imagine it, a finger was moving, albeit slowly but it was moving. Was Kíli waking up? He did not want to give the royal family false hope, but Kíli deserved to wake up to faces who loved him. He stood up and walked to the door to signal to the guard to go retrieve the king, his granddaughter, and nephew from wherever they had gone when he banished them. Looking back at his patient, he looked like his normal self in a deep sleep, but why did he feel that something was not right with the dwarfling?
Fíli tried to keep up with Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur as they ran as far away from the sound of the wargs as possible. His short young legs kept him behind the three grown-ups. All that mattered to him was that with every step he took closer to the caravan or wherever he was being led to, the further away he got from those who did not want him. He screamed as his foot met a hole in the ground buried by snow and he found himself face down in the snow again. He was done with the ground and snow after this week, he vowed never to sit nor sleep on the ground again, it was very uncomfortable that was for sure.
"Help!" he screamed, hoping to catch the attention of Bombur, luckily it had stopped snowing so his voice could travel a bit more.
He groaned, this time he was sure he had injured his ankle. Narvi and Oin would only be shaking their heads at him, another injury to add on to the list he and Kíli have. He yelled again, only to find himself being lifted into the air. Bifur had come to his rescue. Instead of placing him on his feet, he threw Fíli onto his shoulder like uncle Thórin used to do when he was smaller and began to run to catch up with his cousins. They could not stop, they had no idea how much distance they had put between them and the wargs. They had to reach the caravan. It felt like they had been running for hours.
In Bifur's arms, he felt comfortable, more comfortable than he had felt in six days, well not as comfortable as last night as he felt sleeping on Bombur, but comfortable, and well protected. He could get used to this, a father in Bombur, and uncles in Bofur and Bifur. Fíli felt himself dozing off again, and he was certain he did when he was woken up by a female's voice.
"Bombur! Bofur! Bifur! Why are you running?" The voice yelled.
Fíli lifted his head up off Bifur's shoulders to see that they had arrived at a site next to a river. There were about 15 wagons set up around a campfire. Each cart appeared to belong to a family for each one seemed to have bed rolls in front of them as well as various other odds and ends. Nomads! He had found three members of a nomadic tribe of dwarves! Balin had taught him all about them, they were part of a long lost line of Longbeards though not Durin's Folk like himself. This was an unexpected turn of events. Most likely, they had no idea who he was to Erebor, for he was certain Prince Fíli of Erebor and the rest of the royal family was known throughout the major settlements of Middle Earth. This was perfect; as long as he played his part correctly, they would never send him back.
He felt two arms gently come from behind him and take him away from Bifur, it was a familiar feeling that Uncle Thórin would do to take him away from an adult when he would fall asleep in their arms. His father or mother never did that, it was always his uncle. But this time, it was Bombur, and he did not feel like he was taking any chances with him slowing them down. He was brought over to one of the wagons, where a dwarrowdam and four dwarflings, all looking to be around his and Kíli's age were sitting around eating what looked like a stew around a bunch of bedrolls. He placed Fíli down with the dwarflings, as the dwarrowdam stood up.
"Fíli, these are my children Eydis, Oydis, Eluf, Tyr, and my wife Ase. Children, Ase this is Fíli, he's an orphan I found." Bombur explained.
"Bombur!" Ase began to say in protest as Bombur held up his hand to stop her.
"Children, help your uncle and cousin to pack up the camp, we need to leave quickly. Ase, come with me."
The two adults made their way over to neighboring wagons to warn the other dwarves that the wargs were behind them, and that they needed to leave. None of the children protested their father's orders when they saw the urgency that Bifur and Bofur were picking up the families' belongings. Even Fíli joined in not knowing them.
"Who are you?" One of the lads asked.
Fíli looked at the other lad. He was about Kíli's age, with bright ginger hair and eyes the color of a spring grass. This dwarfling was certainly younger than the other lad and one of the lasses. He saw no harm of at least telling them his name again since their father had already broken the ice. Fíli did not think these dwarflings would recognize his name since their father obvious did not, and friends would be a nice thing to have.
"My name is Fíli. Your father found me in Gap of Rohan."
"What were you doing there?" The older lass asked as she was rolling up a bed roll. Fíli decided to tell the same lie he told Bombur, Bifur, and Bofur.
"My parents and I got attacked by something. I ran before they could capture me, but I heard my parents scream," said Fíli, as he threw a kettle into the wagon.
The older lass and lad looked at one another. Fíli wondered if they were suspicious of him. He did say that excuse a little too quickly and instantly for it to be the truth. He only hoped that they were not on to him.
"You're an orphan, aren't you?" the youngest lass asked coming up to Fíli with a doll in her hands.
Fíli's only response was a nod. At least he had won one of the dwarflings over.
"Yay!" the lass said again. "Other families have taken orphans in it's our turn!" She finished the last part a little too loudly, catching the attention of other dwarves in the caravan their way.
"Oydis!" the oldest girl scolded.
Oydis giggled. "Oh my name is Oydis!"
"My name is Tyr!" The lad who initially asked Fíli his name was coming over with a handful of forks.
Oydis and Tyr seemed to be the same age. Twins perhaps. She had hair the color of midnight and had the same spring grass eyes as Tyr.
"My name is Eluf!" The other lad said from behind Fíli. He appeared to closer to Fíli's age than Tyr and Oydis but a bit younger, perhaps a year or two. He was certainly older than the other two. He had the same colored hair as Bofur, brown as tree bark, and liquid black eyes, as dark as night, just like Kíli. He, like Fíli had the beginnings of a beard.
After a long sigh, the oldest lass finally introduced herself. "My name is Eydis."
She looked like she was the same age as himself. She resembled Tyr and her father a lot with the same ginger hair and the same grass green eyes. Fíli could see right away that Eydis was going to be the hardest one to convince that he was truly an orphan. She seemed to be on to him already and they had only known each other for a few short minutes.
There was a loud crash from the other side of the camp fire as one of the wagons tipped over in all of the chaos, spilling all of its contents and three dwarflings in the wagon to the ground. The entire family with the aid of Bombur and Ase up righted the wagon and threw the contents back in.
"Fíli, what's going on?" Eydis asked him, as she realized that something serious was occurring, as her parents rarely helped other families.
Fíli saw no harm in telling them the truth, about why they were leaving this area in a hurry. Even Kíli knew what wargs and orcs were, he suspected these nomadic dwarflings would surely know what they were and how dangerous they were.
"We believe we were followed by wargs," said Fíli, "we need to leave here before they can catch us!"
He watched as Tyr and Oydis's eyes widened up in fear. Maybe he shouldn't have told them?
"We were nearly captured last year by orcs. They killed Bifur's wife," Eluf said out of the blue.
"I miss her, she was funny," Tyr interjected.
"Me too!" replied Oydis.
"But, if it's the same orc pack, we need to leave," an older voice sounded from behind them.
It was Bofur followed by Bifur. Fíli could only stare at Bifur, was the axe in his forehead from the orcs? He wanted to find out.
"Into the wagon with you kids," Bofur said as he picked up Tyr and Oydis and placed them into the wagon. Bifur picked up Eluf. He felt arms around him again and placing him with the others into the wagon. It was Bombur again. He did not see who helped Eydis into the wagon as she was placed next to him. He assumed all of the wagons were packed.
Bombur went to the front of the wagon and pulled the handles up. He pulled it to the front of the caravan as Ase, Bofur and Bifur walked alongside. The other wagons followed them towards an unknown destination, away from the orcs, away from the Gap of Rohan, and away from Erebor the only place he had ever called home.