Right lads and lasses, Chapter III!
Once again I would like to thank the most wonderful Feathered Filli for lending me her idea and I also want to thank you guys for reviewing, sending me messages, reading all this and letting me know that you enjoy it. I keep up the good work and you keep up the good work. Deal? ;)
Fíli did not hesitate for long, bringing the blade of his sword down into the large hand of the Goblin King who, though still on the ground, held onto Kílis leg like a bench vice, effectively cutting off three of the beefy fingers.
The Goblin King roared, trying to grab the two youngsters once more and again, Kíli nearly fell hadn't it been for his brother who kept him in a firm grip and pulled him along.
"Don't look back! Don't look back, just run!"
"My legs are giving in!"
"Don't let them!"
They rushed through the thick layers of dust, not even once looking back on the enemy.
"Across the planks straight to the wall! The exit lies behind a tunnel!", Gandalf yelled across the peaks.
Suddenly the howling behind the youngsters became deafening and the ground began to tremble under the heavy weight of the Goblin King. Fíli glanced over his shoulder only to find the Great Goblin merely a few feet behind them, stretching out his bleeding hand at them. Before them lay nothing but vast stone and dust, the bridge still in the distance and they could not run any quicker with Kíli being so gravely wounded.
Ready for a last stand off, Fíli already grabbed one of his swords when suddenly Thorin appeared from the dust, Orcrist shimmering in the dim light.
"Run! Go on, it's not far!"
The Goblins hammer crashed down and met Thorins blade with a roaring thunder.
But Fíli ran no further, fear freezing him on the spot until his brother tugged at his clothes.
"What's the matter? We need to go!"
"I- I can't."
His eyes were fixed on Thorin, who countered one blow after the other, cutting and slicing the thick goblin skin and driving the Great Goblin closer and closer to the edge of the peak.
"Fíli!"
Suddenly it dawned on him. That he had nearly lost his brother. The one precious being he had, the one he loved more than anything and he had nearly lost him due to his own fault. He had betrayed him. Twice. And yet, even though he hated himself in this moment, it was still Thorin on whom he vented his wrath. Thorin who had idly stood by, not able to swallow his pride nor give up on the thoughts of gold and treasure to safe his own kin.
Looking at his uncle now, fighting for his life, an unknown fear crept into Fílis heart, making him numb. It was the fear of being so angry at his uncle, that he could never admire him ever again. The fear of not wanting to be like him anymore.
"I can't, I'm… terrified."
Kíli sensed that something was wrong with his brother though he could not place his finger on what it was, for he did not know of Thorins words and his initial hesitation. Concern showed on his young face as he tried to catch his brothers gaze but Fílis eyes were fixed on Thorin who, by now, had driven the Goblin King so far towards the edge of the platform, that one single more swing of Orcrist sufficed to send the beast flying down into the black abyss.
It wasn't until Thorin snapped at them, that Fíli found his way back into reality.
"What are you doing?! I told you to run!", Thorin yelled furiously.
"I'm not listening to you anymore", Fíli hissed in return, not only surprising Kíli but also leaving Thorin speechless.
Without so much as looking at Thorin one last time, he grabbed his brother again, firm enough to support him but gentle enough to not hurt him any more and began dragging him away.
"Fíli-"
"Not now. We have to get you out of here."
The other dwarves had, by now, slashed a good number of goblins, clearing the path ahead. Only few tried to get into the brothers ways and Fíli cut them up mercilessly, dealing one blow after the other while still holding onto his brother as if his own life depended on it.
Close to the tunnel by the end of the planks, Thorin finally caught up with them, his face grim and stonelike. He did not say a single word and neither did Fíli, causing the youngest amongst them to feel even more uneasy and hurt than he already did.
It was then, that the ground began to shake one last time and the Great Goblin burst through the planks right in front of them, roaring with laughter, holding his great war hammer with the bleeding stumps that once were his fingers.
"None of Durins kin will leave these mountains alive! Not one of you!", he thundered, raising the hammer above his head.
Immediately both Thorin and Fíli took a step forward, shielding the injured Kíli. Thorin stood, Orcrist firmly in his grip while Fíli had both his swords drawn, the dwarvish runes on the blades glistening red already.
"Try it", Fíli growled.
It was neither Thorin nor Fíli though, who killed the Great Goblin.
It was Gandalf, coming from nowhere, slashing the throat of the beast and sending him down into the black deep of the mountain.
"We have no more time! We need to get out into the sunlight!", the wizard yelled and on their way they were, running as if Durin's Bane itself was after them with flaming whips. Through the narrow tunnels, across shaky bridges, running at the bank of a great underground river that eventually erupted into a waterfall, leading down the mountainside.
When they reached the rocky slopes of the Misty Mountains, daylight crept over the hill already, bathing the treetops and meadows in a deep, warm orange glow. The air was still fresh and chill from the night and each and every one of them felt pure joy and relief tingling in their stomachs, breathing in the clean, beautiful sunrise.
"HAHAAA! Living to see another day!", Bofur exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and while all of them dropped their weapons where they stood, Kílis legs finally buckled and he fell from his brothers grip, limp like a ragdoll.
"KÍLI!"
As soon as Kíli hit the ground, his brother kneeled by his side, his blood stained hands pressed firmly against the cheeks of the youngest.
"No! No, no, no, come on now, don't do this to me!"
"Out of the way", Gandalf shooed Dori away and knelt down at the other side of the young dwarf. "He needs a healer, as soon as possible."
"Will he die?", fear deformed Fílis voice to nothing but a croaky whimper and the despair in his eyes nearly broke Gandalfs heart in two.
Suddenly the world had become very, very quiet. The dwarves stood around the two brothers and nobody dared to even breathe. Not even Thorin, standing a little behind Balin and torn mercilessly, between wanting to rush to his nephews aid and not backing down on the accusations that Fíli had thrown at him just a few moments ago. It was again the pride of Durin, that held the King on the spot, clenching his jaws in frustration.
For a long while, Gandalf just looked at the young dwarf, for the first time not able to comprehend the turmoil and grief within another living being, for he had never lost a brother and could not know what it felt like, to have fear ripping through the body with a burning blade, knowing the wounds would never heal.
He reached out, gently placing a large hand on Fílis shoulder, a warm, small smile playing on his lips.
"I do not believe that he will die, my boy. We must however find shelter soon enough and attend to his wounds."
The relief that immediately flashed across Fílis face was brighter than the sunrise.
He would live. The rest of the world did not matter anymore in this moment. His brother would live. They would stay together. He hadn't lost him. Smiling brightly, he leaned his forehead against his brothers', closed his eyes and quietly whispered: "We're alright now."
Fíli never recalled Bilbos sudden arrival at the scenery, he didn't hear any sorrow about the lost ponies, nor did he care for any food or drink they offered him, while everyone packed. He sat by his brothers' side, gently stroking the dark hair, afraid to burst with happiness.
"Mister Gandalf, sir", Bofur began, a pipe already between the lips. "Where are we going from here then? The lad needs a bed, not the cold ground to sleep on."
"He does indeed", Gandalf agreed. "I can not remember any houses nearby though."
This time Fíli listened up again, once more showing signs of worry on his still dirty face.
"But where do we take him then?"
"Well, if we hurry now, we can reach Rivendell again by nightfall."
"Tsk, Rivendell", Thorins deep voice cut through the air like a cold knife.
Of course everyone knew of Thorins deep hatred of the elves. Balin and Dwalin exchanged short glances, knowing exactly where this anger came from and also knowing that Thorin could not really be blamed for it. Over the past years, the King had infected most of his kin with this blind hatred and even his nephews, who had never seen elves before they visited Rivendell for the first time, met the beautiful but cold creatures with a natural mistrust.
Never trust an elf.
It thus came as a surprise to everyone, that Fíli, in whom Thorins suspicion of elves had rooted most deeply, spoke up.
"We'll go back to Rivendell then."
"You want to leave your brother in the hands of elves?", Thorin demanded, not quite believing what he just heard.
"Easy lads", Dwalin muttered but it was already too late.
Fíli rose from his position, drawing himself up and facing his uncle like he had never done before. The dwarves exchanged nervous glances, not sure what to do and even Gandalf and Bilbo remained quiet.
"Exactly, my brother! My brother, who lies there because of my fault and I will make it right! Don't come along if you don't want to but I will turn back and I will take Kíli with me! I will go alone if I must!"
For a while, only the quiet splashing and gurgling of the waterfall in their backs was audible and nobody knew what was going to happen. Thorin stared at his nephew, shocked, angry and confused and Fíli stared back, unblinking and unfazed.
And to everyone's surprise, it was Thorin who broke the stare first and began picking up his weapons and belongings.
"Rivendell it is then."
They divided their belongings up and helped Dwalin, who was the biggest and strongest of the company, pick up the still unconscious Kíli on his back to carry. With the ponies gone, the march took a while but they barely rested. Even the little Hobbit did not complain about the long journey, for he was most amazed by the bond that Kíli and Fíli shared. Never, not even for one second, did Fíli leave his brothers side. He walked with Dwalin, always keeping up with the steps of the larger Dwarf, occasionally reaching out to caress his brothers hand that was dangling from Dwalins shoulder, as if he needed to reassure himself, that his brother was still there and had not slipped into a world to which he could not follow.
Thorin marched at the tip of the company, Balin and Gandalf close by but nobody dared to speak a word to him.
He was brooding, his face stern and not even Balin, his old beloved friend and advisor could guess what was going on in Thorins bullhead. The sole one dwarf confusing him even more however, was Fíli. Fíli the young boy whom he remembered running around the aisles of Thorin's Halls, chasing after his squealing brother to plunge a living toad down his collar. Fíli who had sneaked up on the sleeping Dwalin more than once, equipped with a carbon pencil to draw more tattoos on his face. Fíli who could never hear too many stories about his heroic uncle, even dressing up in Thorins big fur coat, pretending to be him, ordering the cook around to prepare this and that.
Fíli, who had now stood up against the one man he admired more than anything in his life.
Balin glimpsed at Thorins strained face and a smile, so small that it was barely visible, twitched in the corner of his mouth.