And on it goes!
This time I'd like to especially thank the lovely people who answered to a certain review the last chapter received, simply because it's a nice thing to do and I feel happy and honoured that people care enough about the story to "defend" it against certain statements, that probably were due to misinformation.

So now that we have established that it is very well possible to get to Rivendell within a day, I can only say 'Welcome to the House of Elrond!'

Enjoy the story :)

They arrived in Rivendell only a few hours before nightfall.

Gandalf led the company over the narrow bridge and was already met by Lord Elrond on the steps leading to the beautiful pavilion in which they had dined on the first evening.

"Now what is this", the elf asked quietly, looking from one dwarf to the next. "Already back after sneaking out on us just a day ago?"

His gaze rested on Thorin, who had not spoken a single word ever since they set off from the Misty Mountains. All the stress and anger seemed to have disappeared for his features looked gentle, in fact rather bored and tired, more than anything. Elrond raised his eyebrows at him but still not a single word came from Thorins lips.

Even the dwarves began to look at each other, puzzled and dumbstruck. What had gotten into their leader, that he did not speak?

Gandalf was just about to explain, when Thorin finally lifted his hand and spoke up but what he said wasn't expected by any of them.

"Friend, I must ask you, not to speak to Lord Elrond. And neither will I. For it was not my intention to come back here and I am not the one who needs to explain himself."

The brighter dwarves immediately looked for Fíli, who stood well hid behind Dwalins broad back. Confused, he looked from one staring face to the next and suddenly felt incredibly small. He should have guessed that Thorin wouldn't let him get away with what he had done so easily. Terrified and unable to mutter a single syllable he stood until he felt Dwalins large hand in his back, gently pushing him a little.

He glanced at his brother over his shoulder, seeing him still hanging on Dwalins back like a puppet and, breathing deeply, stepped forward.

"Master Elrond", his voice cracked and he quickly cleared his throat quickly, knowing that the eyes of the entire company rested on his back. He bowed. "I offer our greatest apologies for our hurried departure, not only in my name but in the name of all of us and especially in the name of my uncle."

Gandalf chuckled quietly, glaring at Thorin who already seemed to regret his decision to let his nephew do the talking.

"It was inappropriate and disrespectful and I hope you will accept our sincere apology."

"I will", Lord Elrond replied, not quite sure yet whether he should be offended or rather amused.

"My brother", Fíli vaguely pointed back at Dwalin and Kíli, "was severely wounded by the Great Goblin down in the mountain. We do not have the means to treat his wounds, thus we returned, hoping that we may once again ask your generosity and help to heal my brother."

Fílis throat felt dry and his heart had slipped somewhere down to his belly, a lump stuck in his chest. Never had he spoken to an elf before, especially not to such an important and noble one. Remembering Thorins stories, he had always imagined elves as foul, ugly creatures that never moved but always judged, did nothing but drink summer wine from ivory cups and every now and then left their lair to find other creatures to degrade.

Lord Elrond remained quiet for a while, looking at the young dwarf down at the bottom of the stairs.

"And how grave exactly might your brothers wounds be?", he demanded.

"How grave- well, we don't know exactly. His arm seems broken, so do some of his rips. His leg is torn as well."

"Any wounds which a young dwarf warrior like yourself has ever encountered before? I would be surprised if you hadn't."

Fílis hopes sank by the minute. He had imagined all this to be much easier but he could not be impatient right now. Thorin, suddenly again fuelled with anger at the elf, who obviously tried to lure his nephew into some form of trap, was already about to step forward and intervene, when Fíli spoke up again. And every dwarf was mildly surprised and delighted by the words of the young prince.

"Neither am I a warrior, nor have I ever seen wounds like these before. In fact, I have never travelled this far in my life and I never had to fight goblins or other foul creatures. And never was I afraid for my brothers life before", the young dwarf looked straight into Lord Elronds eyes. "I am only standing here as an ordinary dwarf, asking you to save my brother."

After what seemed like an eternity, the elf gestured towards the stairs, his features stern but not unfriendly.

"Follow me. We will find lodging for you and your comrades and tend to your brothers wounds immediately."

All the weight of the world fell off Fílis shoulders in that exact moment. His legs trembled and while the other dwarves walked past him, some of them patting him on the back, he remained frozen for a little while until life had returned to his toes.

In the back, Dwalin chuntered something that suspiciously sounded like "So no proper meal again fer the next few days", but then followed Lord Elrond, dragging Fíli along.

Gandalf and Thorin stayed behind, Thorin seemingly unsure whether he really wanted to follow them inside this hated place once again.

"You should be proud", Gandalf smirked. "The boy stood his ground pretty well here."

"Of course he did", Thorin stated, folding his arms in front of his chest. "He's my nephew after all."

Hours passed and the night slowly crept across the Hidden Valley. The elves had lit little lights in colourful lanterns dangling from the trees, torches in white and blue illuminated the gardens and terraces and from somewhere the beautiful sound of harps and bells rang across to where two dwarves had settled down. Snugly they sat on one of the many broad sills lining a long corridor, smoking pipes, enjoying the soft, warm breeze that came from the valley, curiously watching their two younger companions.

Bofur sat cross-legged, the familiar, mischievous glim in his eyes, smoking a pipe stuffed with the finest weed from the far east. He had feasted well, stuffed mushrooms were alright after all, and had now found entertainment in form of Fíli and Ori. Opposite him sat Dwalin, the broad back leaning against the round arch of the window, one of his large muddy boots casually planted on the light marble sill.

"How long's he been doin' that now?", he asked just as Fíli rushed past them once again, closely followed by Ori.

"Dunno. A while."

"Remarkable stamina."

"Aye, my feet hurt just from lookin' at it."

Fíli had chosen to ignore the remarks coming from the window.

Behind one of the many doors was his brother, alone and hurt and he wasn't allowed in. Lord Elrond and two other elves had disappeared in the room a long time ago and ever since, Fíli had been striding up and down the corridor, waiting for someone to come out. The only moment of rest had been forced on him, as they had sat him down to examine the cut on his neck and tend to it. The wound wasn't grave and a light bandage decorated his neck, which he didn't even seem to notice.

During dinner, Dori had spoken of something nice to give to Fíli to soothe his nerves and had sent Ori to the elves to get a decanter with wine and a glass on a tray. And just like that, juggling said tray, did Ori run after Fíli now, up and down the corridor.

"Uhm, excuse me? Fíli. I'm sorry but would you like a drink?", he tried once again and once again he was ignored.

As they waltzed past the older dwarves again, Dwalin nicked the glass from the tray, emptied it and put it back on. Still running after Fíli, Ori quickly refilled the glass and as they passed the sill again, Dwalin again downed the wine and put it back on the tray. The game was repeated a couple of times until the older dwarf seemingly had enough.

"Fer goodness sake, ye two are a pain in the arse", he growled, snatching glass and decanter from Oris tray, handing the glass to Bofur while taking a big gulp straight out of the decanter himself. "Sit yerselves down now or I'll break yer knees."

Ori immediately sat himself between them, whereas Fíli listened up.

The door to Kílis room opened and Lord Elrond stepped on the corridor, followed by his fellows.

"And?", Fíli didn't hesitate a second, rushing over to the elves. "How is he? Is he alright?"

Raising his eyebrows, Elrond examined Fíli for a brief moment. Ever since they had arrived, Fíli had neither washed the blood of his hands or face, nor cared about the dirt and his tattered clothes. He looked horrible.

"Well", he began. "Your brother has indeed broken a few bones. Unfortunately we cannot do more for him, than splint his arm and support his ribs, the bones will have to heal by themselves. The wound on his leg has been taken care of."

Fíli wasn't exactly sure if these were good news or not.

"And how long will it take for his bones to heal?"

"A while, young Master Dwarf. A while I'm afraid. But no worries, you have a very powerful wizard on your side and I heard that there is even a skilled apothecary travelling with you", Lord Elrond smiled benignly. "He needs a good rest now and some peace and quietness."

"Oh", disappointment crept into every cell of Fílis body. "So I won't be able to see him now."

"Oh no, sure you will", the Elven Lord gestured towards the door. "He asked for you."

Of course nothing could stop the youngster anymore.

He quickly bowed before he immediately rushed to the door to Kílis bedroom, gleaming with excitement and happiness. At the door, he abruptly stopped however, his fingers shaking as he pushed down the handle. What if he didn't want to see him? What if he remembered that all of this was his fault? Frozen to the spot, he just stared at the door, until he heard Bofurs voice in his back.

"Well go on now, you stupid twat!"

As Fíli quietly slipped into the room, Dwalin shook his tattooed head.

"Kids these days."

"Tiring."

"Any more wine then?", he looked at Bofur as he squeezed the empty decanter in poor Oris hands. "More wine!"

The blue and turquoise light from the paper lanterns in the trees illuminated the room, bathing it in cool blues and purples. A light, wooden bed stood at the end below the high windows and underneath the ivory coloured blankets lay Kíli.

He looked up when the door opened and as soon as he recognised his brother, a broad smile appeared on his face. Just three quick steps and Fíli had crossed the room to be pulled into a tight embrace. He felt Kílis fingers digging deep into his dirty clothes, felt his brothers cheek pressed against his and his smile, that made him smile in return. Never in his life, not once, had he been so happy.

"We made it", Kíli whispered.

"I know", Fíli replied, finally letting go after what seemed like an eternity.

Though he sat up next to his brother, their fingers remained entwined upon the blanket and this time, they surely wouldn't let go anymore. Kílis hands cleaned and pale in the dim light, Fílis hands still bloody and scratched.

"How are you feeling?", the elder asked, concern swinging in his voice.

"A lot better now", Kíli beamed, squeezing his brothers' hands. "They have this really good stuff for pain, can't remember what they called it but it's better than Master Burglars weed!"

"Ah", Fíli began, before he suspiciously narrowed his eyes. "Wait, are you high right now?"

"I don't know!"

For a brief moment, they just looked at each other, then burst out laughing. A heart filled laughter, relief and joy resounding from the walls of the bedroom, so loud and so full of bliss, that even the elves down in the gardens looked up to the bedroom windows, wondering what beautiful happening had caused that sound. For they knew what joy was but barely any of them had ever known the joy of seeing a brother alive. This was a joy only for the mortals.

They laughed and talked until the moon stood high above the valley and the lanterns in the gardens faded one by one.

"I thought I'd lost you, you know", Fíli quietly admitted, as the singing and music had ceased and high spirits of the brothers had turned into a silent, warm, contentment.

"Hm", Kíli smiled. "I thought I'd lost me too. For a moment. But I knew you wouldn't leave me."

"I'm sorry."

The youngest looked up to his brother. "For what?"

"All of this", Fíli gestured to the bed, the bandaged arm, the bruise on Kílis face. "If I had just kept my mouth shut, they-"

"Don't say that."

It rarely happened that Kíli got to lecture his older brother. Usually Fíli was the mature one, the sensible one who needed no lecturing anymore. The one that, as Kíli often thought, had grown up to be so perfect. But never, not even once, had he been jealous of his brother.

"You tried to protect me. That's what brothers do, right?"

"Right", Fíli replied after a brief moment, a gentle smile on his lips.

When dawn came and the other dwarves snuck in to check on Kíli, they found the brothers sleeping side by side, one under, one above the blankets. All the anxiety, all the pain had fallen from them, their faces calm and quiet. The only one still missing from the company, was its leader. Thorin hadn't spent the night in an elvish bed but sat awake or wandered around the gardens by the river. And during all of those hours of wandering, he came to realisations and decisions and he sat by the river and waited for the Hidden Valley to wake up.