A/N: Before we begin, I'd like to lay anyone's worries to rest. The only trigger warning you could possibly put on this is violence, so wherever your mind is wandering, reel it in a little.

Dís awoke late the next morning. It had been a long, hard journey, and it had required quite a bit of willpower to force herself to get up at all, especially with the new, soft mattress her brother had put in her old bedroom. The only thing that had pulled her from her bed was her need to see Fíli.

The problem with that, though, was that she had no idea where he was. Her guess was that if Thorin had taken their father's room, Fíli would have taken Thorin's old room. After she had dressed, she headed that way, her feet taking her on a route memorized many years ago; she still remembered many nights in which she had padded down this hall with little bare feet—she had been much smaller then—to be with her big brother after a bad dream, or to see if he would play with her and Frerin early in the morning. Frerin had always been the more fun brother, but Thorin had always been the one that made her feel safe.

The door was open a crack, and she pushed it gently and peered inside. This was definitely Fíli's room—she could see some of his things scattered throughout, including an impressive collection of Erebor knives on the dresser. She smiled; some things never changed. But Fíli was not there. She stepped out of the room and made her way down the corridor to Thorin's room and knocked on the door.

"Thorin, are you in there?" she called.

"Come in, Dís," came her brother's voice from the other side. She stepped in, and Thorin looked up from his desk and smiled at her.

"Did you just wake up?" he said. "It's late."

Dís scoffed and sat down across from him. "I have been on the road for four months, and I will sleep as late as I please."

"Fair enough," said Thorin with an affectionate grin. "And what are you going to do with your first day in Erebor?"

"Find my son," Dís said. "I just looked in his room, but he isn't there."

"He woke up not too long ago," Thorin said. "I believe he's with Kíli having breakfast."

"But he slept all day yesterday," Dís said, furrowing her brow. "Shouldn't he have risen early?"

Thorin shrugged and sighed. "I'm not sure that is how it works with him these days."

Dís looked her brother in the eye, her insides stirring with disquiet. There was grief in his eyes as he looked back at her.

"Is it really so bad?" she asked quietly.

Thorin leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath; he looked at her carefully, as if he were measuring his words before he spoke them.

"Dís, I have never seen him worse," he said. "I mean, he was worse directly after the battle, and he has improved in some ways… but I thought that leaving him be would get him to open up—to talk. But he has been just as closed off as ever, and I… I fear for him. I'm afraid he won't come out of this. He is my heir. He cannot stay like this."

"What are you saying?" Dís asked, narrowing her eyes.

"If Fíli is so… damaged," Thorin said, "I may have to name Kíli as heir instead."

"Thorin!" Dís cried, a wave of anger rising in her. "How could you say such a thing?"

"I have a kingdom to think of, Dís," said Thorin firmly. "This isn't a little settlement of exiles in the Blue Mountains. This is a true kingdom now, like our grandfather ruled over. In his current state, Fíli is not capable of ruling in my stead."

"So what are you going to do with him?" asked Dís vehemently. "Your damaged heir? Hide him away? Keep him out of sight? Treat him as if he were shameful, a stain upon the family name? Something to be thrown away, discarded when it is no longer of use?"

"No!" said Thorin, his eyes widening. "No, that isn't what I—"

"Hold your tongue!" said Dís, pointing a shaking finger at her brother. "You… you hold your tongue, Thorin! I won't listen to another word of this rubbish! You know Fíli as well as I do. He will come out of this. Your lack of patience sickens me." She spat the last two words at him, and he flinched, staring at her in shock.

"It has been five months, sister," Thorin said, his voice softer now. "When Jóli died, he was silent for three. Who knows how much longer this will last?"

"However long it takes should be fine by you!" Dís shouted. "I will not see him cast aside—not now, not ever! How could you even consider such a thing?"

Thorin opened his mouth to argue, but then his jaw snapped shut as a shadow passed over his features. He looked down at his desk.

"I do not wish to argue with you," he said. "Especially not when you have just arrived. But I have to think of what is best for Erebor and what is best for Fíli."

"Removing Fíli's title is not best for him," Dís spat. "You think he is doing badly now? Go ahead, heap shame upon his head in addition to everything he's already dealing with. That will surely bring him around."

Thorin buried his face in his hands. Neither he nor Dís spoke.

"I don't know what to do," said Thorin finally. "I have been trying for months to say the right words, to do the right things, but nothing I do helps. I have run out of ideas. I'm beating at the air, Dís."

"Give him more time," Dís said. "Let me try to help him. Don't give up on him yet."

Thorin nodded into his hands without looking up.

"I'm sorry, Dís," he said. "Truly, I am. For everything."

"I know," she replied. She felt cold and empty. She needed to see her son. She needed to see him with her own eyes, to touch him, to—well, not hear his voice. She supposed that would have to come later. She rose from her seat and walked around the desk to place her hands on her brother's shoulders. Thorin turned his head, still not quite looking at her, his back bent as if under a great weight.

"Just give him time," she said. "He'll come around."

"All right, poppet," he replied.

Dís let go and left the room, her stomach twisting with dread and guilt. She knew Fíli could come around—he had before—and she did not exactly regret her words, but she could see how heavily this had weighed on her brother for the past five months, and she had only served to make him feel worse. She did not wish to argue with Thorin any more than he wished to argue with her. She just wanted her family back together.

Tears sprang to her eyes then, and she leaned against the marble wall of the corridor and crossed her arms. Her family back together—that was a laugh. How could she put something back together when the pieces were all either broken or missing? She had no father, no mother, no husband, one dead brother and one consumed by years of anguish and bitterness. Her own heart had been broken so many times that she thought it must be more scar than flesh, bleeding and yet somehow still beating. And now her son, her beautiful, golden son, so like one of Durin's line and yet so much like his father, too—was he irreparably broken as well? Was he just another victim of the curse that seemed to hang over the heads of her family, waiting for the opportune time to strike?

No, she told herself, squaring her shoulders and pushing herself away from the wall. She would not let that be Fíli's fate. If she could not bring back those she had lost, she could at least make sure she would not lose one more. Her son would not fall victim to such a fate. Not her golden boy. Not her Fíli.

The royal dining room was not far, and Dís walked there slowly, fighting to regain control of her emotions. She wanted to be strong and stable for Fíli when she saw him for the first time. Who knew how he would react? Well, she had an inkling, but given all that Thorin and Kíli had told her, she was more than a little nervous to see her firstborn again. By the time she reached the dining room, she had composed herself, and she peered in, searching for her sons.

She found them at the far end of the dining room, sitting together on one end of the long table; Kíli was saying something she could not quite hear, gesturing wildly, and Fíli was smiling, though he did not look up from his food. She grinned at the sight of them and stepped further into the room.

Kíli spotted her first. He sat up in his chair, grinning brightly at her; then he looked back to Fíli, tapping him on the arm and pointing. Fíli followed his gesture, his brow furrowed, and then his eyes met Dís's.

Within a fraction of a second, Fíli was out of his chair, leaving it to clatter to the ground, and running towards his mother. She stepped forward, opening her arms, and Fíli dove at her, instantly wrapping his arms around her and shoving his face into her shoulder. Dís chuckled softly and closed her eyes, filtering the fingers of one hand through her son's soft golden waves. He breathed in and out heavily, his grip on her tightening.

"Hello, Fíli," she said softly. "I've missed you."

Fíli's only response was to press his face harder into her shoulder as he took another deep breath, this one hitching before he could let it out. Dís said nothing more. There was nothing more to say—not right now, anyway. Words could come later.

Dís opened her eyes to see Kíli standing beside them, beaming. She smiled back at him and then closed her eyes again, gently swaying her eldest from side to side. He did not seem to want to let go, and she would let him hold on as long as he felt he needed to. Kíli's footsteps drifted away until they could no longer be heard. Fíli still had not moved. His breaths were hitching more and more now, and Dís gently rubbed his back as he cried, her heart aching for him. What had he been through in the past months that merely seeing her face could bring him to tears?

After a long while, Fíli finally let go, looking up at Dís with red eyes. She smiled at him, and he offered a wan smile in return. Then he bit his lip, confliction passing through his face. Dís shook her head and then kissed him on the forehead.

"I am happy to see you, my boy," she said. "You don't need to say anything."

Fíli's lip trembled as a stray tear fell down his cheek, and then he was hugging her again, his face hidden in her hair. She held him again; she was in no hurry to go anywhere or do anything else. Fíli was her priority right now. If it helped him, she would hold him until the world's ending.

Something was certainly wrong with Fíli.

Dís had known it before she arrived, of course; Kíli's note had told her that. Then Thorin and Kíli had filled her in on the goings-on of the past months, and she had been horrified that her son could be suffering so much. But even so, the first few days in Erebor showed her that there was even more going on than that—her brother and her son had merely scratched the surface. Fíli was not just suffering; he was tormented.

It wasn't just in Fíli's silence that Dís saw this. It was as if he were a completely different person. Ever since he was a young lad, he had walked with a confident swagger, as if he knew that he owned any place he stepped into. But that was gone. Instead of walking with his shoulders back and his head high, he stooped, his head bowed, and he stepped cautiously, as if he were expecting something to come around the corner at any second. His once–sparkling eyes were now usually empty and sad, his gaze far off whenever someone was not claiming his attention—though what he thought of, no one knew. And the bad days were the worst. He locked himself in his room for hours—sometimes the entire day—and would rarely let anyone come in to see him, even if they were shouting on the other side of the door, worried sick.

Dís could not take it.

It had been a week since she had come back to Erebor, and Fíli had kept himself locked away for three of those days. According to Kíli, this was not necessarily uncommon, but it was more frequent than it had been in the past month or so. So when the fourth time came around, Dís knew something had to be done.

"Fíli, it's Mum," she called, knocking on his door. "Please let me in."

There was no reply from the other side. Dís knocked again.

"Fee," she called. "Please. We haven't seen each other in almost a year, love—don't shut me out now."

After a few moments, the door unlocked, and the door opened a crack; one red eye peered out at Dís. She smiled softly, and Fíli opened the door further and stepped aside. As soon as she was inside, he shut the door and stood awkwardly, staring down at his hands, one of which was holding the other. Suddenly Dís noticed an unnatural amount of red on his hands, and she reached forward and took them in her own. Fíli let her look; there was a decent slice on his right hand, and it was bleeding freely. She furrowed her brow and looked up at her son.

"Fíli, what happened?" she said.

Fíli pointed back towards his desk. A half-carved wooden figurine, stained with blood, sat there, a small knife set down next to it. Dís pursed her lips and sighed.

"Were you going to just sit in here and let yourself bleed, silly boy?" she said, pulling her handkerchief from her pocket and wrapping it around his injured hand. He simply shrugged, watching crimson quickly stain through the white fabric. Dís kissed his hand over the handkerchief, like she had done for her boys when they were hurt as chidren, and then looked Fíli in the eyes; a hint of a smile played on his lips.

"Come out of here, darling," she said softly. "You needn't be alone. Not now."

Fíli chewed on his lip, considering; then he held up his uninjured hand and signed Where?

"Just over to the kitchen," said Dís. "I'll make you a cup of tea and make sure no one else bothers you. We'll just sit together, all right?"

Fíli finally assented with a nod, and Dís took his hand and pulled him with her to the door. Quietly, she opened the door and peered out to make sure no one was there, and then the two of them sneaked through the corridors to the kitchen, thankfully not encountering another soul. Fíli sat down at the small table, staring at the handkerchief wrapped around his hand, and Dís put a kettle on for tea. She sat down with him while she waited, checking on his hand quietly. As much as she ached for conversation, she would not let it show. She had a suspicion that the others' pressure on him to speak was part of what kept him silent, and she would not make that worse. Instead, they sat in silence, and Fíli seemed content. Eventually the water boiled, and Dís set about making two cups of tea, scooping extra sugar into both mugs—both she and Fíli had the same sweet tooth.

"I can't…"

Dís nearly dropped the spoon in her hand. It had been very quiet, but she was sure she had heard Fíli's voice. She turned to look at her son, her heart pounding. His head was in his hands, and his eyes were shut tight, his teeth clenched. Tears dripped onto the table. Dís quickly stirred the sugar into their tea and sat down with Fíli, sliding a mug over to him and remaining silent.

"I c-can't take it an-anymore," Fíli said, his voice so quiet that Dís could barely hear it. "I can't, I can't…" He trailed off, letting out a sob and bowing his head further. Dís reached out and touched his elbow, and he flinched, but he did not pull away.

"What can't you take, my love?" said Dís gently.

"Everything." The word came out in a heavy sob. "I've wanted to say something for so long, but I couldn't—I can't talk to them—I can't tell them…" He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "It's all my fault."

"Fíli, how could it be—"

"I should have known!" Fíli cried, his voice cracking as he gained volume. "I should have seen that it was a trap, or—or I shouldn't have scouted out the noises I heard, I shouldn't have told Kíli that I could go it alone, I shouldn't have let myself get caught and used as bait…" He stopped and shuddered heavily.

Dís's heart sank like a stone, and yet it still pounded. Finally, Fíli was talking—but he clearly had more than this on his mind. Something else was eating away at him. She could see it.

"Fíli, what is it?" she said, keeping her voice as soft as she could.

Fíli shuddered again and shook his head frantically, pressing his lips together and breathing heavily through his nose. His breaths shook as his body trembled. Dís reached out and took his hands, pulling them away from his face and wrapping them around the mug of tea. Fíli did not pull away from her grip, but he did not look up, either—not until she touched the side of his face gently. The moment his eyes connected with hers, the words started spilling out of his mouth almost faster than he could say them.

"I was on the upper level alone," he said. "At Ravenhill. And then—and then I saw light approaching. I knew Uncle had said not to engage, I knew that, and I tried to run but they were coming from the other way, too… and then orcs were pouring in from every which way and I had no escape, and then hands were grabbing me and pulling me from every direction and the stench was unbelievable, I couldn't breathe and I couldn't move…" Fíli shuddered again, breathing raggedly, and looked at his mother with desperate eyes. "I tried, Mum, I tried to fight back, but there were so many of them, I couldn't even move my arms, and then they took all my weapons. I tried to fight back. I did."

"Of course you did," Dís whispered. She could say no more. The horror was thick in her throat.

"I tried to fight back," Fíli repeated frantically.

"I believe you, Fíli," Dís said, furrowing her brow. Fíli swallowed and nodded, bowing his head and rubbing his thumb against the mug in his hands. He shakily lifted the mug to his lips and took a sip of tea; a soft, warm smile played on his lips, and his shoulders relaxed a little.

"I missed your tea," he said.

I missed your voice. Dís kept that to herself and merely smiled, watching him drink his tea in silence. He did not speak again for a while, and she did not push him. Her heart was still pounding, her mind racing. There was more to this story. That couldn't be it.

Fíli swallowed and opened and closed his mouth a few times, but he didn't say anything. A grimace crossed his face, and he looked up at Dís. Though she desperately wanted to ask him what happened, she kept quiet and merely smiled. This seemed to give him some courage, for he took a deep breath and started to speak.

"I want to tell you what happened," he said. "I—I want to, but I—it's—" He stopped and gritted his teeth, and a tear slid down his cheek. "I'm so ashamed." His voice was quiet and hoarse.

"There is nothing to be ashamed about," said Dís. She reached for his hand, but he jerked away, looking at her with wild, incredulous eyes.

"Nothing to be ashamed about?" he cried. "You don't know what happened. What he—what A-Azog did to me—what I let happen to me…"

"Fíli, what did he do to you?" Dís said, tensing.

The look Fíli gave her then made horror course through her body. His eyes were dark, his expression drawn into such disgust and shame that Dís forced herself not to think. She didn't want to imagine. Fíli looked down, and Dís looked away for a moment.

That was when she noticed Thorin. He stood in the doorway quietly, arms crossed; as soon as she saw him, he put a finger to his lips and shook his head. She nodded quickly and turned her gaze back to Fíli, hoping he would not notice his uncle. If he did, she did not know if he would continue to speak.

"A-after the orcs came," Fíli began, continuing to look down, "Azog came, and the orcs—the orcs dropped me to the ground… I tried to get up, I tried to find something to fight back with, but he—he just grabbed me by the leg and threw me, like I was a ragdoll, like I was nothing, I felt so weak and frail and small…" He dropped his face into his hands and took a shuddering breath. "And he just kept doing it, over and over, like he knew how small I was, how useless I was, that I couldn't fight back and he could just do it forever, as if I were a child's toy."

"Oh, Fíli," Dís breathed, rising from her seat and pulling a chair next to him. She wrapped one arm around his shaking shoulders, but he did not move. She stole a glance at Thorin, whose hands had dropped to his sides, his eyes wide as he stared at Fíli.

"A-and then he stopped," Fíli continued. His fingers dug into his hair and his body tensed, his voice wobbling more and more as he spoke. "I'd already hit my h-head a few times, and I couldn't see straight and I could barely stand up… and h-he forced me to m-my knees and he just stomped on my leg and it took everything within me not to scream, I w-wouldn't give him that satisfaction of hearing me scream but he kept stepping on it h-harder and harder and then it snapped—"

A harsh shudder passed through Fíli then, and a long, high-pitched whimper left his lips. He bowed his head until it touched the table, covering his head with his arms, and carried on with his soft, high keening. Dís looked helplessly at Thorin, and he jerked forward but stopped, looking unsure. Dís pressed her lips together, thinking, and then shook her head at her brother. He leaned back against the wall, looking on with a horrified expression.

"I didn't scream," Fíli said into the table. "I didn't scream, I wouldn't, it was so hard not to but I didn't, even though my leg was on fire and I was so afraid… I wouldn't let him hear me scream, him or Kíli, he would have come running if he had heard me…"

"You were brave, my love," Dís said.

"I wasn't!" Fíli cried, looking up at her suddenly. "I gave up, Mum! I stopped fighting, I just gave up and let him drag me out and use me as bait, Uncle won't say anything about it but I know what he must have thought, that I was weak, that I was stupid, I shouldn't have been there at all and this never would have happened, he and Kíli would have been safe if it weren't for me—I wanted to tell him to go, to run, get out of there, and the next thing I knew I was falling and then I woke up and I had no idea what was going on, I was so stupid and weak—"

"No, Fíli," said Thorin suddenly from the door. Fíli's face melted into abject horror as he turned to look at his uncle, who was approaching quickly. He ripped himself out of Dís's arms and attempted to stand, but he tripped on the leg of the table and landed on his bottom with a thud. Dís rose from her seat, but Thorin dashed forward and got to him first, kneeling beside him and holding his hands up in a signal of surrender.

"How long were you standing there?" Fíli cried. "What did you hear?"

"I heard enough," Thorin replied. "I heard quite enough. None of that is true, Fíli—I meant it when I told Dáin you fought bravely. Do you remember me saying that?"

Fíli nodded, sniffling, though his eyes were distrustful. Thorin reached out, and Fíli took his hands; they rose together, and Fíli wiped his nose on his sleeve, staring up at his uncle nervously. Thorin smiled warmly and touched their temples together for a moment.

"It's good to hear your voice, my boy," he said.

Fíli let out a tearful laugh and a half-smile, adjusting his sleeves and looking away. Gently, Thorin pulled him back to his seat; Fíli sat down, and Thorin pulled up a chair as Dís returned to her seat as well. She and Thorin watched Fíli, who kept his gaze down, still picking at the hem of his sleeve.

"I was stupid, though," he mumbled. "I shouldn't have let myself get into that situation—"

"We didn't know," Thorin interrupted. Fíli looked up at him with shining eyes. "We didn't realize it was a trap, Fíli, or I never would have sent you in there. That is not your fault."

Fíli seemed to let this statement pass him by, dropping his gaze again. He took in a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, and there was silence for a few minutes more. Then, suddenly, Fíli let out a moan and shook his head.

"Oh, I can't do this, I can't do this anymore," he said. "I-I'm so tired of feeling like this… I just want it to stop…"

"Fíli, we can help you," Dís said, reaching out and taking his hand. "Now that you can tell us—"

"You can't help with this!" Fíli cried, pulling his hand out of her grip and looking up at her incredulously. "You can't stop this feeling, this nightmare, I feel like I'm always in a nightmare, day and night, that I can't escape—and I'm supposed to be a warrior, a son of Durin, and I can't even get over this. What good am I to anybody if I can't even handle this?"

"You were attacked and tortured in battle, Fíli," said Thorin. "That is not easy to get over."

"Nobody else is like this," Fíli said tearfully. "Nobody else can't even sleep at night half the time because they're reliving the battle, can't stop thinking about it, seeing it even with their waking eyes…"

"Nobody else suffered what you did," said Thorin resolutely. "You should have told us, my lad. Is that why you have been silent this whole time?"

Fíli cringed. "I w-wanted to—I mean, I tried—I tried many times, but… I couldn't get the words out. And I think after a while I just… gave up. Nothing was changing."

"You're doing fine now," Dís pointed out.

Fíli considered this and nodded. "Well," he said, "it's… it's like… remember that cliff over the river by the south entrance to our halls in Ered Luin? The high one that Kíli and I would always jump off?"

"I told you two not to do that," said Dís, raising an eyebrow.

Fíli smiled sheepishly. "Well, we did it anyway," he said. "Sorry. But that's beside the point."

Dís chuckled softly and shook her head. "Go on."

"Sometimes when I went to jump, I just… couldn't," Fíli said. "I had done it before many times, but sometimes, looking down…" He shrugged. "No matter how hard I tried to make myself jump, my body would not obey. That's what it was like trying to say something."

"I understand," said Dís, frowning. "Well, I am glad you have finally jumped."

Fíli let free a wobbly smile and nodded. Then the smile turned into a frown, and Fíli burst into tears again and covered his face with his hands. Dís moved her chair as close as she could and pulled Fíli into a hug, and he leaned into her, pressing his forehead into the crook of her neck. Thorin rose from his seat with a sigh and looked down at Fíli sadly. He walked around the table and rested a hand on Fíli's shoulder.

"You are brave, lad," he said. "The bravest Dwarf I've ever known. I am proud of you."

Fíli's only response was to cry harder. Thorin kissed the top of his head and squeezed his shoulder; then he planted a kiss on his sister's cheek. He removed himself quietly, leaving Dís rocking her eldest in her arms as he cried.

One chapter left from Kíli's POV, and then we're done. Three times as long as planned ain't bad, I guess.

Special thanks to madammadhatter for being my beta, as usual.

Please, please review! :D