A/N: Whoa. Okay. Hi there! I haven't said anything yet about anything in this fic and so here I am.

This chapter just... got too long. I was trying to do this cool thing where the perspectives alternate but I just kept writing and writing and writing and oops there are like probably 3-6k more words in Kíli's perspective so I decided to just FREAKING CUT IT OFF HERE whoops. Maybe I'm too obsessed with patterns. Do me a favor and pretend I didn't say anything and you didn't notice.

Important note: "nonplussed" does NOT mean not bothered. It means "surprised and confused so much that they are unsure how to react." Look it up. You learned something today. Gold star. (I thought about using a different word where that comes up but I liked it too much and now you've gotten an education so there.)

Er, carry on.

The desolation of Smaug.

Kíli looked around at the pale dirt and the grey snow that surrounded Erebor with his heart in his throat. There were no trees, no grass, nothing living from here out to Dale in the distance; the Men had sought shelter in Dale, for the most part, and save for some who stayed to help with the wounded at Thranduil's command, the Elves had departed for their home. It was cold and it was empty. Though the bodies had been removed, Kíli felt as though he could hear the blood crying out to him from the ground. He stiffened and closed his eyes.

The desolation of the Battle of Five Armies.

A cold wind blew, and Kíli drew his cloak tighter around his body and closed his eyes. At least the air felt fresh—it was why he had come outside, after all. Even though he had grown up in the halls of the Blue Mountains, he had always enjoyed being out in the open, more than most Dwarves, and after eight months on the road, he was used to the sky above his head rather than a ceiling of stone. It was time to go back, however. He had been out all day, and though the sun was still in the sky, the air was getting colder. He was sure that someone must have been looking for him at some point during the day, but when he had set out in the morning, he hadn't cared. At least he had let Ori know where he was going. He did not regret taking a day to himself, even though he had responsibilities and Fíli still wasn't doing well. Responsibilities could wait a day—and Fíli had others around him. Kíli was not his only aid, and he had no desire to be. He pulled his gloves tighter over his fingers and looked towards the mountain, frowning.

When Kíli finally got to the main entrance, he was surprised to find Ori just inside, sitting by the wayside as if he had been waiting for someone. When he spotted Kíli, he jumped up, his face grave.

"Hello, Ori," Kíli said, his heart sinking. "What are you doing out here?"

"I was waiting for you," Ori replied. "It's about—"

"Fíli," Kíli finished. His heart dropped down into his toes. "What happened?"

"He fainted again today," said Ori. "He was crossing the library and he just… dropped. They brought him up to his room several hours ago… I think he's still there."

"Did anything else happen?" Kíli said, immediately taking off quickly down the corridor. Ori followed.

"I think they put him out with a sleeping draught," said Ori. "He—he didn't react well to the idea, though—"

"They did what?" Kíli exclaimed, stopping and whirling suddenly on Ori. "Why would they do that if he didn't want them to?"

Ori raised his hands, startled. "I didn't do it, Kíli," he said. "I just went and got Óin and Thorin."

Kíli ground his teeth and looked back down the corridor. "You say he's still in his chambers?"

"I would imagine so. I haven't seen him."

Kíli nodded. "I'll see you later, Ori. Thank you for helping him."

"Of course," said Ori, but his voice was already back in the distance. Kíli was running through the long passageways to his brother's room. If they put Fíli out with a draught, he wouldn't be able to wake himself up from nightmares… as much as his brother needed sleep, it would do him no good if he was being plagued by horrible dreams. How could they not know that? How could they not see?

Kíli made it to Fíli's room in record time and entered quietly, shutting the door behind him. Fíli was indeed still in bed, his covers pulled over his shoulders and the fire burning bright in the hearth. Someone had been making sure he was well taken care of, at least. He sat on the bed and looked his brother over with a furrowed brow. Fíli's eyes were roving beneath fluttering eyelids, and as Kíli looked closer, he saw how damp the pillow was beneath his brother's head. A tear rolled across the bridge of his nose. Kíli felt a jolt of alarm—Fíli was having a nightmare.

"Fíli," he said, taking hold of Fíli's shoulder and shaking. He prayed that the draught had worn off enough to allow his brother to wake. "Wake up." Fíli let out a low moan, and Kíli shook him harder, sending curses to his uncle and his cousin in his head.

"Fíli!" he cried. "Fíli, it's all right! Wake up! Fíli!"

Finally, Fíli's eyes opened, and immediately his arms flew out, swatting Kíli's hand away. Kíli reached out frantically to take hold of Fíli's arms.

"It's just me!" he shouted. "Fíli! It's all right!"

Fíli's only reaction was to rip his arms out of Kíli's grip and pull himself back towards the wall, his breathing coming in panicked gasps and his broken leg dragging in front of him. Kíli came closer again, reaching out, but Fíli pressed both hands against Kíli's chest and pushed fiercely; confused, Kíli reached out once more, but Fíli kicked with his left foot, making contact with Kíli's gut. Kíli grunted in pain and slapped his hands over his stomach. He backed out of the reach of Fíli's legs, and Fíli curled himself up in the corner of the bed, holding his arms up defensively over his face.

Kíli stared at Fíli in horror as his brother sat pushed into the corner, gasping raggedly and protecting himself with two shaking arms. Why would Fíli fight against his own brother? What was he seeing?

He's not just afraid right now. He's afraid of you. He doesn't know who you are.

"Fíli!" Kíli called, standing back. "Listen! Listen to my voice. It's me! It's just me. It's Kíli!"

Fíli suddenly paused. His arms came down first, and he stared at Kíli, wide-eyed. Kíli crawled back on the bed and knelt before his brother, reaching out slowly with one hand. Fíli flinched, but he did not fight.

"It's just me," Kíli repeated. "It's your Kíli. I won't hurt you."

Fíli blinked rapidly, and the wildness seemed to melt out of his eyes. Kíli brought himself a little bit closer, and Fíli reached forward and rested a shaking hand on his brother's face. His mouth formed the word Kíli, but no sound emerged.

"That's right," said Kíli slowly. "That's right. You're all right. It's just Kíli."

Fíli nodded, his hand still resting on Kíli's face; he dropped his head and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. When his eyes opened again, they dropped to Kíli's chest, and his trembling hand followed, stopping over his brother's heart. Kíli stared at him for a moment, confused. Then, as his heart beat beneath his brother's palm, the meaning of his gesture dawned on him.

"You dreamt I was killed, didn't you?" Kíli said.

Fíli's lip quivered, and then a moment later, his face crumpled. Kíli immediately leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his brother, and Fíli buried his face in his shoulder and began to sob.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here to stop them," Kíli said. "I'm sorry, Fíli."

Fíli tightened his hold on his brother and wept, trembling. Kíli moved so that they were both sitting more comfortably, giving berth to Fíli's broken leg, though he did not relinquish his hold. He waited as Fíli's sobs quietened and his trembling slowed, his anger burning even stronger now at Thorin and Óin. If anyone should have known better, it should have been them. They should have known. He was itching to go give his uncle a piece of his mind, but he was not going to leave Fíli alone—not in this state. He had never seen Fíli react so badly to a nightmare in his life.

After a long while, Fíli finally relaxed and sat still, resting his forehead against Kíli's shoulder. They sat in silence for several minutes.

"I imagine you don't want to sleep anymore," Kíli said finally.

Fíli shook his head.

"All right," said Kíli, thinking. He needed to speak to Thorin, but he didn't want to leave Fíli alone, either. Who would put the least pressure on his brother to speak—who would Fíli feel safest with right now? His mind went through the list of his companions. Bifur. Of all the people in their company, Bifur would surely understand if his brother did not want to speak. He pulled Fíli upright and looked into his red eyes. Fíli took a heavy breath.

"I'm going to go make sure Thorin and Óin know not to do that to you again, all right?" he said. "Stay here—I'll send Bifur to keep you company. That's all right with you, isn't it?"

Fíli considered this for a moment and then nodded. Kíli offered him a reassuring smile and patted the side of his face gently, and then he slid off the bed and headed for the door. As he departed, he took one last glance at his brother; Fíli had leaned his head against the wall and pulled up his knees, and his eyes stared out at nothing. Kíli sighed and left the room.

They should have known.

Kíli knocked on the stone door to Thorin's study and waited, his jaw shifting. He had just left Fíli and Bifur in Fíli's chambers; when he had returned with Bifur, Fíli had been in the same position he had when Kíli had left, and the look on his face had not changed. Bifur had been able to gently pull Fíli out of his reverie—it amazed Kíli how mild the typically callous Dwarf could be—and handed him a block of wood and a knife. The two of them were now carving silently together, and Fíli had seemed happy to be preoccupied with a craft. But now it was time to confront Thorin about what he had done.

"Uncle, it's Kíli," he called.

"Come in," Thorin called from the other side.

Kíli pushed the door open and slipped inside, looking around the room. His uncle was alone—good. He could speak openly, then. He made his way across the room and stood before Thorin's desk; Thorin looked up from his papers and smiled warmly at his nephew. Irritation niggled at Kíli's insides.

"How was your day outdoors?" he said.

"Cold," Kíli replied. Dead. "The fresh air was nice, though."

Thorin nodded, studying Kíli's face. He frowned. "You've seen Fíli, I presume. Is he awake?"

"Aye," Kíli said. "He's awake now. Bifur's with him."

Thorin furrowed his brow. "Why is Bifur with him?" he said.

Stay calm, Kíli told himself as flames of anger began to rekindle in his gut. "Because I didn't want to leave him alone," he said. "He was having a nightmare, and I had to wake him up. Uncle, how could you make him sleep like that?"

"He needed rest, Kíli," said Thorin, nonplussed. "He fainted in the library. He refused to sleep."

"Because he's afraid of nightmares!" Kíli countered. "How is sleeping going to help him if he's reliving whatever happened to him every time he closes his eyes?"

"Kíli, he needs to sleep," said Thorin. "He cannot refuse to do so forever. He had a severe concussion, and only rest will help him."

"But he's not resting!" Kíli said, stepping forward and setting his hands on Thorin's desk. "Uncle, if he's forced to stay under with a sleeping draught, he won't be able to wake himself if he's having a nightmare! He was crying in his sleep when I went in to see him. When I woke him up, he tried to fight me off—he didn't even know where he was or who I was! It took a long time to calm him down. Because of your decision—you and Óin! Ori told me that he didn't react well when you suggested it, and you did it anyway! You should have known! How could you not know what that would do to him?"

Thorin looked up at Kíli, one hand sitting loosely over his mouth. "He tried to fight you off?"

Kíli nodded. "He didn't even realize it was me. I've never seen him like that. Except for—except for right after I found him."

Thorin closed his eyes and sighed. "I am sorry," he said. "I did not wish to hurt him."

Kíli nodded curtly. "So you won't do it again?"

Thorin opened his eyes and looked up at his nephew with an exasperated glare. "What other options do I have?" he said. "If you have an idea, please do let me know. Kíli, he needs sleep. What if the next time he falls, he doesn't wake up again? Do you want that to happen?"

"Mahal's beard, Thorin!" Kíli cried.

Thorin's eyes widened. "Kíli!" he scolded. "Watch your language."

Kíli shot his uncle a furious look as the flames of anger licked up into his head. He didn't care about his language. "You aren't understanding what I am saying," he said. "Just listen—for once—listen. Fíli is having nightmares. He is afraid to sleep. He doesn't want to sleep. Could you not see that in his eyes—in the way he reacted? How could you betray his trust like that?"

"And what do you propose we do?" Thorin said, gaining volume. "Let him stay awake for as long as he can manage until he collapses again? It has been two and a half weeks, Kíli, and he has fainted four times. I cannot allow him to continue in this way. He has to rest, and if he refuses, well—we have to make him rest."

"Mahal's… It's not rest!" Kíli shouted. "You are making him worse! You forced him to experience the horror of the battle with no escape once again—he trusted you, and you subjected him to what he is most afraid of!"

"What am I supposed to do?" Thorin shouted back. "Leave him to wither away? Allow him to—to…" He stopped and looked down, swallowing. When he spoke again, his voice wavered. "He's slipping away, Kíli. Every day a little more. I can't lose him like that. I will not."

Kíli stared at his uncle, tears suddenly stinging the corners of his eyes. He ran one hand over his face and through his hair; the hot anger inside him began to die, leaving him feeling cold and empty. For a long minute, neither one of them spoke. Thorin did not look up.

"What do we do?" Kíli said. "We have to do something."

Thorin cleared his throat. "He has to sleep," he said resolutely. "But he also has to rest. I don't know how to…" He shook his head.

Suddenly, Kíli had a flash of inspiration. "The Elves," he said. "Uncle, maybe they have something that can stop nightmares. I could ask Tauriel—" Suddenly he stopped; his eyes widened, and heat rushed into his cheeks. Thorin didn't know about Tauriel.

Thorin looked up at Kíli sharply. "Who?"

"O-one of the Elves," Kíli said quickly. "I could ask the Elves if they have anything that could help…"

"Who is Tauriel?" Thorin demanded.

Kíli could feel his face getting even hotter. "She's just one of the Elves, the captain of Thranduil's guard—"

"She?" Thorin said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, she—I mean, she's a captain, but she's—I promise, Thorin, there's—I just know she could help, she helped me when my leg was infected, maybe she can help Fíli." He pressed his lips together and cleared his throat. His cheeks were burning, and he had half a mind to dash out the door to get away from the bemused look on his uncle's face.

Thorin studied Kíli critically for a long moment, and Kíli looked away desperately and bit his lip. Now you've done it. Why, why had he grown an attachment for an Elf, of all people? Couldn't he have liked a nice Dwarf lady with a nice Dwarf beard?

"Go ask this… Tauriel… what she can do to help," Thorin said finally, releasing Kíli from his gaze. "If she has something that can stop nightmares, we need it, and now."

"Aye, sir," said Kíli weakly. He hastily bowed and whirled around to make his exit, practically running to the door.

"And Kíli?"

Kíli stopped, cringing.

"Just what she can do to help Fíli. And it is a favor for the King, not for you. Understood?"

"Aye," Kíli said, his voice cracking. He let himself out and ran away from Thorin's study as quickly as he could.

Kíli peered through the crowd of Elves that still occupied the lower levels of Erebor nervously. Though most of them had gone home, there was still a small number that had remained to help with those who were still wounded. Most Dwarves, Men, and Elves had recovered, either in full or in part, but still some lagged behind, keeping watch over those more seriously wounded or keeping company to their friends, it seemed. A few weeks ago, Kíli would have expected Thorin to kick them all out, but he seemed to be willing to tolerate their presence if they did not make a nuisance of themselves. Kíli had actually not seen any of them, save for when he had made his exit and re-entrance earlier that day, and he had purposely avoided their temporary quarters then—he had been avoiding all the Elves, really, since the battle. Well, not all of them. One of them. Fíli had not been pleased with his behavior around Tauriel, and he had known well before his blunder earlier that Thorin would be even less so. But now he needed her help.

"Excuse me," Kíli called out to a tall, brunet Elf passing by. "Have you seen Tauriel?" Suddenly he realized that he wasn't even sure Tauriel was still here. Of course she's still here. She still had his runestone. She wouldn't say goodbye without giving it back.

"Yes," said the Elf in his strange elven lilt, eyeing Kíli curiously. "You must be Prince Kíli."

Kíli blinked. "Y-yes," he said. "How did you know?"

"Tauriel said you might come," the Elf said. "The tall one with the angry eyebrows and no beard." He looked Kíli over. "Sounds like you."

"I have a beard," Kíli grumbled, rubbing his stubble defensively. He thought suddenly that he could understand why his kin disliked these Elves so much. And angry eyebrows? He didn't have angry eyebrows—did he?

The Elf merely chuckled and pointed a bit behind him. "She was back there, last I saw her," he said.

"Th-thank you," Kíli said. He skirted around the Elf and headed in the direction he had pointed, searching for a sign of red hair; he spotted her speaking to another Elf in a somewhat lonely corner and hung back, waiting for their conversation to finish. When it did not appear to be ending quickly, he took a breath and stepped closer.

"Tauriel?" he said, looking up at the captain nervously. She broke from her conversation in Sindarin and looked around at eye level, furrowing her brow when she saw no one. Feeling quite small, Kíli cleared his throat and called her name again, and she looked down, smiling warmly when she saw him.

"Hello, Kíli," she said. She rested a hand on the shoulder of her companion and said something in Sindarin; the other Elf nodded and took her leave, and Tauriel looked back to Kíli, waiting for him to speak.

"I-I'm sorry I haven't come to see you," he said. "I know it's been two and a half weeks, but it's been trying, what with all the new responsibilities… and Fíli…"

"How is he?" Tauriel asked. "The last time I saw him…"

"He's… better. And worse. More worse than better, really," Kíli said. "I never thanked you, by the way, for helping me get him out of harm's way—thank you."

"It's all right," she said, frowning. "What do you mean, he's worse? Is his leg—"

"No, his leg is healing just fine, I think," Kíli said. "Though he's on it more than he should be. It's more…" He stopped and looked around at the other Elves. "Is there somewhere we can talk more privately? I don't want to discuss the Prince of Erebor's problems for everyone to hear."

"Of course," said Tauriel, looking around. "Where should we—"

"Follow me," Kíli said, grabbing her hand. Tauriel pulled her fingers away from his quickly, looking around with wide eyes, and Kíli frowned.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't think—but—er, just follow me. Please."

Tauriel nodded and followed Kíli quickly through the lower halls until they reached a small side room. They stepped inside, and Tauriel looked at Kíli expectantly.

"I need your help," Kíli said. "Fíli, he's not doing well. At all." Kíli shuffled his feet. "He won't speak—he hasn't said a word since the battle. He keeps fainting because he's exhausted and his head hasn't quite healed, and he won't sleep because he's afraid of nightmares. He's… he's crumbling away, Tauriel. I've never seen him like this."

"How can I help?" Tauriel said, her green eyes shining with concern.

Kíli smiled up at her fondly. He knew she would want to help. "Well, I know that Elves' medicine is better than that of the Dwarves," he said, resting a hand on his right leg. "My uncle and my cousin Óin tried to put Fíli out with a sleeping draught so he would at least be able to sleep, but they just made him worse, I think. I woke him up from a nightmare and he tried to fight me off. He's never done anything like that before."

"You need something to stop the nightmares," said Tauriel.

Kíli swallowed and nodded. "Aye—something so that he can rest."

Tauriel nodded and looked towards the door. "I am not the most skilled of my people when it comes to healing," she said, "but I know we have something that can help. I will ask."

Relief washed over Kíli, and he smiled broadly. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you for—for everything, really."

Tauriel smiled and nodded. "Follow me," she said. "I'll get you what you need for your brother." She stepped back out of the room, and Kíli followed, watching her red hair from behind. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch it. Soon they were back at the Elves' temporary quarters. Kíli stood awkwardly by the wayside, waiting keeping his gaze down; he could feel the eyes of some of the Elves on him, and he blushed to think that they may have seen he and Tauriel coming back together. After a few minutes, Tauriel returned to him, holding a jar filled with powder. Kíli looked at it and furrowed his brow.

"Powder?" he said.

"Mix a spoonful in water and have him drink it," she said. "That is what the healer told me. It will ease his sleep."

"It will stop the dreams?" Kíli said, taking the bottle.

"It isn't good to stop dreams completely," said Tauriel. "If you did not dream at night, you would start seeing things during the day, and that would be no better. No, it simply eases the mind during sleep. That is all."

"Oh," said Kíli, looking down at the bottle. Now he knew. "And if he wants to wake up…?"

"It only eases sleep—it does not cause it," Tauriel replied. "He will be able to awaken if he needs to."

"Good," Kíli muttered. He had no desire to repeat what happened earlier. "Is there anything else I should know about it?"

"Yes," Tauriel said. "If he is not about to go to sleep, he should not take it. It will make him disoriented and he will have difficulty controlling his movements."

"All right," said Kíli, suppressing the thought that it would be amusing to see his brother flopping around and putting the jar in his pocket.

"If you need anything else, you can ask Tathariel," she said, gesturing to the Elf she had been speaking to earlier. "She is a healer and knows better what can help your brother."

Kíli looked up at Tauriel, confused. "But I don't know her. I could just ask you, couldn't I?"

Tauriel smiled sadly and shook her head, and Kíli's heart sank. He had been fearing this. She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a little stone—Kíli's runestone—and pulled his empty hand towards her. She pressed the stone into his palm and folded his fingers over it gently. Kíli looked from his hand to Tauriel's eyes, frowning deeply.

"I am glad that you are safe," she said, "and I am glad that you came back to see me again. I wanted to give this back to you."

"I gave it to you as a promise," Kíli said. "That I would come back."

"And you did," said Tauriel, smiling. "Here you are. And now you must go back to your people, and I to mine."

"But—"

"Kíli," said Tauriel. Her hands were warm over his. "Did you really think that more would come of this?"

Kíli blinked. He had not been thinking that far ahead. "I-I mean, I suppose not, but…"

"I am going home soon," she said. "I don't know if I will see you again, but I am glad our paths crossed here, at least."

"Tauriel," Kíli said weakly. He tried to think of a protest, but he could not. Tauriel was right; nothing could come of whatever he had tried to initiate. Once again, he wondered why he had formed an attachment to an Elf, of all people. Tauriel pressed his hand holding the stone to his heart and let go. He sighed.

"Take care of your brother, Kíli—he needs you," she said. "Maybe we will see each other again."

Kíli swallowed and nodded. "Thank you, Tauriel. Thank you again for everything." Spurred by a sudden impulse, he took her hand and kissed it; Tauriel jumped, but she did not pull her hand away until Kíli released it. He looked up at her and grinned, and he couldn't help but wink as well. Tauriel brought a hand up to her mouth and suppressed a giggle.

"Goodbye, Tauriel," he said, bowing. "…Until next time."

"Goodbye, Kíli," she said.

Kíli glanced once more at the tall Elf before him before turning to leave. He hoped that he would see her again, but he knew in his heart that even if he did, nothing would come of it. It was better that way—for both of them. He knew that, but it still didn't make him feel any better. He slipped his runestone into his pocket and started on his way back.

So I'm just gonna admit that I'm a total Kiliel shipper. But I killed the Kiliel for all our sakes, though it pains me to do so. You're welcome. Or I'm sorry. Whatever applies to you.

In other news, I've got a lot of scenes planned and about 300 words written of the next chapter; this is pretty much the last couple weeks of the semester, so your patience is greatly appreciated.

Reviews are always greatly appreciated (and ravenously devoured by me)!