-Author's Note – Anything written 'like this' (bold and italics) means the orcs are talking in Black Speech. -

The forest had grown thicker by the time the orcs stopped. The dense leaves above them meshed together like a tent, only thin rays of sunlight penetrating through to the ground. Kili tilted his face upwards to feel the brief warmth on his skin, he guessed that it must have been around late afternoon, the sun beams had that particular golden glow that came a few hours before sunset. All he knew for sure was that his legs were aching, he was exhausted. He had stumbled a few times on the trek, his head thick and weary, over rocks and broken branches, for which he received stern shoves in the small of his back, pushing him roughly forward. He swallowed down his frustration, balling his fists to stop them connecting with an orc's jaw. Deep down he scolded himself for not fighting against them, for letting them march him through this unfamiliar and dark landscape without so much as an elbow in one of their ribs. No. He needed to stay quiet. The more he fought the more he'd get himself hurt. He was in enough trouble as it was.

The Orcs reached a narrow clearing. Large enough to make camp but small enough so that the high leaves still provided shelter from the sun, hiding away most of the sky.

"We will stop here." Azog said, the white warg bellow him coming to a halt, sniffing the air with her wet nose. She pawed at the ground as her rider dismounted, running his hand through her thick fur. Azog breathed in the scent of the forest. The pine was too sweet, it stung the inside of his nose. He preferred the rocky mountain side, deep caves cut into cliffs, where the air was cool and acrid. He grunted, this would have to do.

Kili didn't notice how much his legs shook until he was stood still, he wanted to fall to the ground, to sit. To sleep. It was all he could do to remain standing. He focused on what was around him, he counted the orcs as they shrugged off their weapons. Twelve, with one warg each. The rest had been thrown off the cliffs by the eagles, or left injured on the rocks.

"Gurlak. Bring the prisoner to me." Kili didn't understand what the pale Orc said, but the sound of the Black Speech made his stomach knot and a shiver run up his spine. Azog's icy blue eyes dug into him like daggers, they made his breath catch in his throat. Suddenly he was shoved forward by the one-eyed orc, who sniggered at him, flashing yellow and rotten teeth, and thrown to his knees. His legs stung as they met with the ground. He heard Azog before he saw him. Heard his heavy footsteps approaching and his deep, growling breaths. Kili gulped and dragged in a deep breath before slowly looking up at his captor. He wanted to hide his fear, to put on a mask of courage and hide behind it. But as he looked into Azog's scarred face, features twisted in a foul sneer, he knew the façade was failing, crumbling on the ground around him. Azog crouched down and reached a hand towards Kili who tried to flinch away, edging back where he was knelt. But Gurlak pressed a hand firmly down on his shoulder, keeping him where he was. Azog wrapped his fingers around Kili's jaw, tilting the dwarf's head back to get a better look at his prisoner. He narrowed his eyes and scrutinised Kili. He wasn't built much like the other dwarfs, he was far more slender with a thin face and delicate features. Azog supposed that he could squeeze his jaw and feel it crack in his palm, but then he would be of no use. He locked eyes with Kili and saw them full of anxiety and fear, but he saw that they were also young and hopeful. Azog sniggered. He would crush that hope, and leave Kili feeling more than just fear. The dwarf would be begging for death by the time they were finished. He would be easy to break. "Tie him up."

Fili was restless. He had paced back and forth, under the cautious stares of the company, until his legs ached and he collapsed down the side of a tree trunk, fingers tugging at the edge of his sleeves. Subconsciously pulling at a loose thread, he stared into the dancing flames of the campfire. He didn't feel its orange glow on his cheeks, he only felt the cold breeze on the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. He pulled his knees closer to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Fili felt lonely. There may have been thirteen others in the camp, speaking in hushed murmurs and flashing him quick, sympathetic smiles, but without Kili beside him he felt very much alone. He was used to sitting side-by-side with his brother, close enough for their shoulders to touch and to share each other's warmth. He was used to Kili whispering jokes into his ear or humming a familiar tune that would make Fili's tense muscles relax. But instead he sat apart from the others, not wanting to listen to their weak and strained reassurances. They were meaningless to him and he would believe none of them until Kili was safely back in his arms.

The sight of the sunset caused a nauseating feeling to grow in his stomach, it hurt like he was being crushed and it made his breaths come out quick and strained. As the world grew darker, so did his thoughts. Kili, he knew for sure, would not be enjoying such friendly company and would not be huddled up to the warmth of a glowing fire, the scent of Bombur's cooking drifting on the air. Was he hurt? Images of Kili slumped on the ground, blood running down the side of his face, features crumpled in pain, flooded his mind. Images of the Orcs crowding him, prodding him with swords and kicking at him with heavy leather and steel boots. No. No. Fili shook his head and tugged at his hair in a vain attempt to banish the notions from his head. He'll be fine. He's strong and brave. He'll be alright. He wasn't convincing himself. He knew for a fact that his brother was brave, he wouldn't have so selflessly jumped to Thorin's aid if he wasn't. But he also knew that Kili was impetuous and easily antagonised. He would not hold back from barking profanities. Fili silently begged the open air that his brother would hold back his nature long enough for them to reach him. Otherwise, Fili feared for what they would - or would not - find.

The camp was tense, Thorin could feel it. Thirteen figures were sat anxiously around the campfire with hushed voices and downcast eyes. Any looks thrown towards Fili were brief, or avoided completely, images of his fierce anger still fresh in their minds. But Thorin, hands laced uncomfortably in his lap, kept his gaze firmly fixed on his nephew, watching him from over the top of the flames. Thorin knew that Fili's pretence of calm was masking an inner panic. He knew his nephew well, and could see what the others were incapable of noticing. He observed the disconnected look in Fili's blue eyes, how his mouth twitched as he bit down on his lip, how tightly his knees where drawn to his chest. Thorin wished that he could wrap an arm around him and pull him close, to mutter reassurances into his ear in an attempt to ease his troubled mind. But he knew that Fili didn't want him, he wanted his brother. So instead, the exiled king simply watched on, Balin and Dwalin sat either side of him.

"Thorin." Balin said, his voice low. Dwalin leaned forward to see his brother across Thorin. Knowing the tone of his voice. "You know it is at least a two day hike back to where we lost Kili. If not three. By the time we get there the orcs could be leagues away or … he could be …"

"You think we should just abandon him, leave him with them?" Though he didn't say it out loud, Dwalin's particular soft spot for Kili never went unseen as the younger prince grew up in Ered Luin. Images of Kili as a child, a giggling and overly energetic little dwarfling suddenly filled the warrior's mind. Images of the young prince climbing onto Dwalin's shoulders, of Kili asking him the story behind every battle scar, of the boy jumping onto pieces of furniture as he charged with a wooden sword, of big brown eyes full of curiosity and joy. The embodiment of innocence and hope. Dwalin's fists curled. "We have to try."

"I'm not saying to abandon him, I'm just saying that we should be … prepared for what we may discover." Balin silently scolded himself for his pessimism, he wanted nothing more than for the company to retrieve Kili safe and well, but he was only thinking logically. Beside him, he felt Thorin tense. The king's heart felt suddenly like lead as he looked down to the ground, Balin's words resonating in his head. We should be prepared for what we may discover. Then, like a great weight, Thorin suddenly regretted not leaving to find Kili sooner. He understood that the company needed rest, but he knew that his nephew needed him more. Kili. What if help reached him too late? What if there was nothing left of him apart from a broken, lifeless body. How could he possibly forgive himself if that is what they found? Thorin closed his eyes in an unspoken prayer. Begging Mahal to keep his young nephew protected until he could reach him. "No, we'll find him … alive. We have to. I could not bear to lose him." Even the very thought made his heart shatter. He looked back across the fire at Fili, still sat silent and disconnected. Then another thought gripped him, what would happen to Fili if they were to lose his brother? It would devastate him and leave him empty, to have the person he loved the most taken from him would destroy him. It would be like losing a part of himself, like having his very soul torn from his body. "I do not wish to see what would happen to Fili if we were to find anything else." Thorin said quietly.

The night was quiet, noticeably quiet, Fili thought, without Kili's infectious laugh echoing around the camp. The company sat in a rare and unpleasant silence. It was surprising how much Kili kept the group cheerful, it was only noticeable when he wasn't present. Fili sighed and let his head fall back against the side of the tree. Shivering slightly, he pulled his coat tighter around him. It failed to make him feel any warmer, to keep away the icy breath of the shadows. He stared up at the stars, watching them glistening across the heavens like silver torchlight. Each one trying to out shine the next. Fili wondered if his brother, wherever he was, was looking at the same stars, looking at them gleam against the black sky. He may have been far away, but at least he was beneath the same sky.

Kili had always thought of starlight as being a cold light, the stars seemed so distant and unreachable. He watched their silver glow through the gaps in the leaves above him and thought about how they always seemed so far away, detached from the rest of the world. They made Kili feel small, and in that moment, tied to a tree, he felt very small indeed. In an attempt to ignore the orcs and the throbbing pain in his bound wrists, Kili had tried to count the stars, focusing on them and not his captures as they went about their business and shot him hateful glares. But he'd reach a certain number and loose count. In the brief moment before the young dwarf attempted to start again, he felt his fear bubble inside him again, fear for what the morning would bring, once the orcs were well rested again. Kili wouldn't rest, he would stay awake and savour the peace of the cold night before the inescapable torment that sunrise would bring. This, he knew, was the calm before the storm. And he hoped he would be strong enough to endure it when it hit.