Disclaimer: The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings and all characters therein are the property of the Tolkien Estate and Wingnut Films. This story is for entertainment only and the author is in no way profiting from it, nor exercising any claims to The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings.

Author's Note: Thank you very much for hanging with this story while I waited to get my computer fixed! And now, let the mess truly begin…

22. Tempers and Temptations

Sighing wearily, Kíli braced himself against the cold stone wall as his mind sought to feel the conditions ahead once again. With the traps left by the cult and the instabilities of the ancient city, this had proven necessary with every new section the patrols had cleared. The entire eastern upper seven levels were now theirs, and they worked next toward clearing the northeastern city and mithril mines, as they knew that the southern mines were honeycombed with unmapped goblin and troll tunnels.

He gasped, mind jolting from other thoughts as his skin crawled as if marched over by dozens of ants. Even as he shuddered in revulsion, he identified the sensation as the scrape of goblin feet on stone. Blindly, one hand reached out to latch onto Kifir's shoulder, the physical contact drawing the prince from the rock just enough to speak.

"Third cross-corridor on the left. Ambush waiting."

It was a common pattern for the cult, placing small teams to attack their patrols as they walked through the city. Satisfied that they now were aware of that danger, Kíli turned his attention back to the stone, a new sensation grabbing him. Now it felt as though a knife poked into his foot, poised on the cusp of breaking skin, and the instinctive need to jerk away momentarily broke the connection with the stone.

"The first bridge has been weakened to the point of falling with any weight upon it." Turning his mind once more to the stone, he winced as something else made itself known with a throb in his temple. "And the ceiling has several water cracks in it. Natural. Watch for it."

Next came the feeling he had grown to hate the last few days, both because of what it meant and the discomfort it gave him. Fíli had asked about it the day before, saying his brother made an awful face every time, but the brunette had struggled to explain. Finally, he had settled on saying that it felt like the moment where the need to vomit overwhelmed the body, but nothing came up, leaving the suffer to curl around the agony and endure.

"Deadfall trap, left junction beyond the bridge, two paces in, and another seven paces beyond that."

At least he could warn them of such things. Trip wires and crossbows left no trace in the stone for him to read. The prince was about to pull out, giving the waiting team the go ahead to proceed, when agony blazed down every nerve, setting his body on fire. He was barely conscious of his scream, or the hands that grabbed at his falling form. Fire! His skin crackled and split, the stench filling his nostrils, the roar filling his ears and drowning out the voice calling frantically.

"Kíli!"

Desperately, his mind latched onto those two syllables like a lifeline, pulling him away from the maelstrom within. The voice repeated, sounds meshing together as he pushed; out; away. Gasping, he felt the fire ease as he returned to himself, fighting to separate what was 'Kíli'. Living, that was him, breathing, in and out, the cool air washing away the stench he had only imagined, the agony flowing away as if it had never been. Gasping, he managed to open watery eyes to find himself propped against his older brother, both hands, mercifully whole and healthy, clutching the Arkenstone. Frantic brown eyes sought out Durin blue, finding Thorin hovering close.

"The last team we sent! Fire! The cult coated the stone with oil and set it ablaze!"

His throat was surprisingly raw, voice hoarse. Had he been screaming? As his uncle turned away to bark orders, sending about half their small group running, he forced his wrung out body to straighten, sitting up and away from Fíli's support.

"I'm alright now."

"Uh huh."

Fíli regarded him with definite skepticism as he uttered the dry sounds, pushing a water skin at him before standing. The brunette gratefully gulped several mouthfuls and then allowed his brother to pull him to his feet.

"We return to camp."

Thorin ordered, raising a chiding eyebrow when Kíli grimaced at the order. He hated quitting early, even when it was the most logical choice. If the cult was resorting to fire, they were becoming desperate, the most dangerous kind of enemy. No doubt Thorin would be gathering his advisors back at camp to reassess the situation and their tactics, leading to another round of debate and shouting. That was the way of dwarrow politics, one of the many reasons that Kíli despised such things. At least he could most likely get away with pleading exhaustion and find a place well out of earshot!

Even as he distracted himself with that plan, the prince winced as his foot caught on an uneven stone in the floor, threatening to send him sprawling had it not been for Fíli's quick reflexes and the extra support of his cane. He dearly wanted to pull his arm from the other's hold, but tolerated it for the moment. Kíli could not say that he was all that surprised by his older brother's constant presence at his side as they began to make their slow, cautious way back to the camp. It had become a fact of life for him so long as they were here. This did not mean, however, that said attentions were welcome; indeed, the irritation built with every step treading upon his shadow and inhalation as if the other meant to speak, then censured himself. Even Thorin, walking just behind the younger dwarrow accepting murmured verbal reports from various patrol leaders grated upon already raw nerves.

The king, by protocol, should be preceded only by his guards, not by the princes, no matter that they actually had thrones to sit on and he did not. Kíli knew his uncle had never been one to insist upon such things, both because of the exigencies of exile and as a visible break with the ultra-conservative rule of Thrór and Dain, but many within their army were not of the Longbeards. Now was not the time to appear as the new, softer Thorin who had come with their return to life, but instead to show the occasionally harsh, coldly majestic leader who had defied any to take away his birthright, no matter the mistakes of his predecessors.

No one was so foolish as to believe that all the various kingdoms had offered warriors from the goodness of their hearts. No, at least some had come to assess this newly risen king, to assess his strengths and weaknesses, to watch for openings where an advantage might be found. Especially given Thorin's history. Even as the young, impulsive, self-absorbed would-be warrior in Ered Luin, Kíli had heard the whispers. That the elder line of Durin had grown weak, prone to madness and gold sickness, no longer fit to rule. That they should be supplanted for the good of all dwarrow. Even after all that had happened with the retaking of Gundabad and the Iron Hills, and fourteen prosperous years for Dale and Erebor alike, there were still rumors!

"Kíli!"

A voice hissed in his ear as a hand jiggled his elbow, making the brunette startle. When had they reached the smaller guardroom near the Chamber of Mazarbul that had been set aside for the royals? And how long had he been standing there, lost in his own ruminations? Too long, by the frown on his brother's face.

Fíli sank down with him, hand still on his elbow, as he took a seat on one of the small folding camp stools packed for those of higher stations or creakier bones. That Kíli, at not even one hundred, was afflicted with both those conditions did nothing to lighten his mood.

The flash of something coming toward his face seen only out of the corner of his eye made the prince jerk away, an instinctive protective reaction that soon turned to an exasperated one as he identified the offending object as Fíli's hand attempting to check his forehead.

"Stop that. I don't need big brother watching over my shoulder, Fíli!"

As soon as he snapped the words, he flushed, mad at himself for giving in to his own moodiness, but that regret abruptly disappeared at Fíli's own angrily spit out reply.

"Well, excuse me for being concerned about my little brother! Since this one obviously doesn't need me, maybe I should go find the other one!"

Both dwarrow froze at that, Fíli's face tinging pink in horrified embarrassment at what he had just said. Kíli sighed heavily, closing his eyes and counting slowly to ten before meeting guilty blue eyes.

"Kíli, I - I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't, but I'm not a child, Fíli!"

"You are certainly acting like one!"

Kíli sucked in a noisy breath, rage and shock rising as he gazed up at the dwarf who had just spit out that irritated rejoinder as Fíli groaned. Thorin simply stared back, hands on hips and blue eyes cold, Therin one step behind him, tears of shock glittering in his eyes. The lad must have overheard Fíli's words as they approached. Just now, however, he was too angry at Thorin to concern himself with his sibling, trying to stand and confront him only for his legs to collapse back down.

"Excuse me? Just what in Mahal's name does that mean?"

A weight settled on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, not about to be placated by big brother this time. Was everyone out to attack and belittle him today? Above him, the king snapped a warning glare at the blonde with the clear message to stay out of this, though Fíli rarely heeded such things where his brother was concerned, even as a child.

"You push too hard, reckless, irresponsibly risking yourself, refusing the very legitimate concerns of your family! Do you even give thought to the responsibilities you have back at Erebor? Have you learned nothing these past years, to be acting the foolish boy?"

Kíli gaped, blood rising to further heat a face already flushed with fever even as he surged to his feet.

"Do not speak to me of growing up and responsibility, Thorin! I think of nothing else! I have a responsibility to our people that cannot be denied, no matter the price I must pay!" Thorin's mouth opened, no doubt to snarl a retort, but a slash of the prince's hand through the air cut his uncle off. "No! It was not I who was so blinded by greed and ambition that all reasonable words were dismissed, almost bringing war and destruction upon our people on the eve of triumph! I did not insist upon setting out against a dragon with only thirteen, betting upon a fool's hope! You did not-"

"Kíli! Stop this!"

A blur of blonde hair and Fíli was between them, physically restraining his brother, who had not even realized he had been advancing upon his king. The brunette briefly struggled, but he already knew that there was no way he would escape Fíli's grasp. Kíli growled in anger, fist clenching as for a split second he considered swinging at the other before his mind caught up, informing him he was contemplating his own kin as if he were nothing more than an obstacle to be removed.

Choking on the horror of what he had almost done, the younger prince turned on his heel and walked off as quickly as trembling legs would allow, heading toward one of the lesser used corridors. Behind him, he could hear a heated debate, but did not stop. Right now, all he could think of was to be alone. He craved solitude with the cold, unfeeling stone his only companion, strong, hard rock... It would have no arguments for him, nor nightmares and conflicting demands that tore him apart; the stone simply was.

"Kíli! Do not walk away-"

"Let him go, Thorin, please! You will only tear each other further apart right now."

There was a pleading note in Fíli's voice that would normally have him halfway back, but this time, he could not bring himself to heed it.

"He cannot go alone, the fool! Where is Kifir?"

"With his father. I'll go, uncle."

Kíli cursed to himself as he heard Therin volunteer, pushing to go just a bit faster and hopefully lose the boy.

"I don't know if that's a good id-"

"Therin!"

Thorin's bellow overrode whatever objection Fíli had been about to offer, and Kíli wished that they would stop arguing about him as if he could not hear. Surely they knew how much sound carried in these stone halls!

"Kíli! Wait!"

The hard thud of metal soled boots upon stone told him that there was no way to evade the younger prince, no matter how much he wanted to. Realistically, he could understand his uncle's concern, especially after the attack upon the main camp several weeks ago. Therin's face was red, breath huffing and puffing as he slowed his pace to match his brother's, though he did not say anything more. As they reached the edge of the well-travelled area, the younger dwarf grabbed a torch to light their steps in the darkness.

"This way."

Kili paused, frowning as he regarded the corridor that branched off the main one. They had not sent patrols into this section yet, intending to do so today until the disaster struck. He knew vaguely where it went, having spent so much time pouring over the old maps, but it was well beyond the camp's safe perimeter.

"We shouldn't go so far from our patrol lines, Therin."

"Why not? You would know if trouble were coming and we're not really all that far. Do you really want a group of strangers walking along to hear us?"

No, he did not, but he really wanted to be alone. Or as alone as he could get with a little brother who had suddenly decided to stick to him like a burr. The older prince huffed, one hand lightly brushing the wall to gain a sense of nothing but emptiness ahead. He did not bother delving deeper to check for traps, knowing even a finger touch as he now had would be enough to warn him before a wrong step.

"Fine. But stay walking in my steps."

They walked in silence for several minutes, only the hiss of the torch and their footfalls providing any sound.

"Kíli..."

His brother's voice trailed off hesitantly and the other brunette sighed, strong emotion giving way to an emptiness and exhaustion that was becoming too familiar a state lately.

"He did not mean it, Therin. Fíli was angry with me and spoke the first thing that came to mind that would hurt."

Fingers ran along the wall, feet placed with little thought as the stone told him where was safe. It would be so much easier, to be as rock, unmoving, uncaring no matter the circumstances, a silent watcher. To stay as stone...

A muffled grumble pulled him abruptly out to gaze around at torchlight reflected off unfamiliar walls. How long had he been lost within his connection to the rock?

"What did you say?"

The prince asked his younger companion, who had stopped several feet behind, blue eyes glittering icily.

"You could not even be bothered to listen to me, could you? The replacement - discard if not needed!"

Kíli cringed, hearing some of his own words of the past being thrown at him and knowing that Therin had overheard more than Fíli and he had ever suspected. When he had first learned that his mother had two more children, that was exactly how he had felt, too, he just had not been as vocal about it as Fíli for once. At this moment, though, he did not have the patience to deal with a pouting dwarfling.

"I never asked for company, Therin, so do not yell at me for not bothering to listen to someone I didn't want along in the first place!" His sharp rebuke made his brother's scowl deepen as Kíli looked sharply around, the back of his neck tingling in a way it had not since Mirkwood. "We've come too far past our sentries. We need to return. Now."

If he had hoped the serious tone would cut through Therin's preoccupation with his own hurt feelings, it was in vain. The other prince sneered, holding the torch a bit higher as Kíli put a hand to the wall to steady himself, body warning that he was upon the edge of total exhaustion. Faintly, he heard the gutturals of the Black Speech and shook his head, cursing the memory traces caught within the stone around him.

"What's wrong, Kíli? The famous archer not brave enough to face an empty corridor without big brother?"

"That's not bravery, Therin, its stupidity! This isn't the lower halls of Erebor or the safe trails of the Shire! You saw the dead and wounded after we were attacked in our very camp!"

The fear that the prince felt, both for the situation they were in and the whisper that his younger brother could be right, made the words come out harsher than he had intended. Closing his eyes in frustration, Kíli made himself take a deep breath before opening his eyes again. For one moment, he thought that he had been struck blind, the inky darkness was so thick around him.

"Therin?!"

Had something somehow taken the younger dwarf in those precious few seconds that he had stolen for himself? Was a selfish action of his condemning his family to heartache yet ag- His dark thoughts broke off as a laugh came from somewhere in the darkness.

"What's the matter? Scared, brother?" The tone became low, with a nasty edge to it. "Who's the coward now? Have fun finding your way back-"

There was a flare of warning, a feel of pressure causing something to move that should not, which might have been all that saved their lives.

"Therin, run!"

The grate of the crude trigger stone against its setting raced down nerves already made raw by sheer emotion, then his senses were completely overwhelmed by the cascade of rock from the deadfall.

Silence, except for the harsh inhalations and resulting coughs from each dust laden breath. The grit ground between his teeth, making the prince gag and spit, breaking any attempt at concentration to discover if there was a body beneath the pile he knew now blocked the corridor back to camp. The mere thought of kin lying there was enough to make his stomach cramp and roll, but it was another sound that made the brunette freeze.

"What have we here, boys? A dwarf alone!"

The gleefully malicious words came from right behind him. Kili's palm was slick with sweat as he grabbed the hilt of his sword and put his back to the rock fall, determined to take as many of his foes with him as he possibly could.