They were laying at his feet, all of them, deep red blood pooling out around them. Some were piled on top of one another, others laying sprawled, limbs twisted and bent in unnatural angles. Kili pushed through them, looking down at their lifeless faces and glassy, unseeing eyes. The company were dead, their blood was on his cloths, his hands, his face. He could even taste it in his mouth. It dripped from his fingertips, he could hear it as it landed on the ground, echoing off stone walls. Drip, drip, drip. He couldn't remember killing them, he couldn't remember anything. But there they were. He felt the world begin to spin and felt his own body begin to sway.

"Look at what you've done." Kili clamped his hands over his ears, but the Necromancer's cackles echoed in his head, reverberating off his skull. He took a stumbling step back and felt the heel of his boot hit against something as he took a step, something soft which shifted at the impact. Kili turned and looked down to see Thorin laying before him, one arm spread to his side and the other folded over his chest. The right side of his face red with drying blood, his eyes shut. Dead, like the others. He had done this. Kili's hands began to shake at his sides, the blood dripping from his fingers quicker. He began backing away, eyes flicking around at all the still bodies around him, when a hand wrapped around his ankle. Fili dragged in a hoarse, ragged breath, blue eyes staring up at his younger brother, blood dripping from the right corner of his mouth. There was a deep slash across his forehead.

"Kili." He said, "why did you do this? Why didn't you fight harder?" Kili pulled his foot free, almost falling back onto the stone floor. Fili let out a cough, face contorting in pain. Kili wanted to say something, wanted to apologise – not that it mattered now– wanted to say that he loved him – even though it wouldn't provide any comfort – but the words wouldn't come. He must have looked like a fish on the end of a line. His brother was dying, by his hand, and he couldn't even say anything.

"Finish it," came the Necromancer's voice, "do it." And suddenly nothing mattered. He felt no guilt, no fear, no sadness. No anything. Kili straightened his back and rolled his shoulders, a blade, a thick, uneven orcish sword, appeared in his hand. He stared back down at Fili and grinned a twisted grin and raised the sword.

"Ki…Kili," Fili stammered, weakly trying to raise a defensive hand, "don't do this."

"Goodbye, 'brother'." And with that, Kili brought the blade down.


Kili's eyes shot open, his chest rising and falling rapidly, a fresh layer of sweat upon his brow.

"Woah, Kili, easy there brother." Fili had a hand on his elbow, leaning close to look into his eyes. "You're alright, it was just a bad dream." Usually, Fili would ask him if he wanted to talk about the nightmare, but the way his brother looked at him, terrified, relieved, brown eyes staring at him as though he couldn't believe he was real, told him everything he needed to know. Fili pursed his lips as Kili pushed his back into the side of the barge, looking about him and at the company, eyes lingering on Thorin for some time. Before he sighed, his stiff muscles relaxing. Fili shifted towards him and wrapped the blanket back around him – kili had managed to wriggle out of it and was beginning to shiver again. "Here." Kili's breathing had slowed and the panic had disappeared. But there was still a hint of fear in his eyes. Maybe it was just the light, but his brother's skin seemed almost completely white now.

"Are we almost in Laketown?" Kili's voice trembled slightly as he shivered, tucking his knees in close.

"Not yet, but I don't suppose it will be too long." Said Fili, still watching him. Kili shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He didn't look at him, didn't want to see the concern which seemed now to hold a permanent place in Fili's blue eyes. He craned his neck to look behind him and down at his hands, glad to see how normal they looked. There was no blood staining his palms, running through his fingers or drying beneath his nails. And he prayed there never would be. Tilting his head back he rested it against the side of the barge. He could still feel his older brother's eyes upon him. He sighed.

"Stop looking at me like that, it's making me uncomfortable."

"Sorry, I'm just…"

"Worried?"

"Yes." Kili frowned and dug the heels of his boots into the wood floor to push himself up straighter. He flashed Fili a sideways glance, glad to see his brother had finally looked away.

The barge was peaceful, Kili thought, it's passengers talked only in quiet voices – some appeared to be sleeping - the soft breeze flapped the sails gently and the water of the lake lapped against the sides in quick, rhythmic intervals. He was quite thankful for the peace as a harsh headache had began assaulting him since he had woken up, there may as well have been someone sat beside him, hitting the side of his skull with a hammer. But he simply grit his teeth and ignored it. He could feel the barge rocking, it was almost enough to lull him back to sleep, but it was the images of his friends dead, of him bringing the sword down onto his brother, each time he even blinked that prevented him from drifting back off. He was more than happy to stay awake until they found Gandalf and all this was over. If they found Gandalf, that was. He had asked Fili that first night where the wizard was, but he couldn't say. Nobody seemed to know.

"Do you think uncle's plan will work?" He asked his brother without looking at him. He felt Fili shift slightly and was sure he was looking at him again. There was a silence, the barge jerked to the left with a flap of the sails.

"Of course," Fili answered, with what sounded to Kili like forced confidence, "Gandalf is a powerful wizard, he'll know what to do."

"You don't even know where he is, neither does Thorin."

"He said he'd meet us on the overlook."

"And you trust him?"

"He saved us from the trolls, didn't he? And the goblins." Kili said nothing for a time, his brother was right he supposed. Gandalf always came for them, why should this time be any different? "He'll be there, you'll see." If Fili believed it, then Kili did too. He smiled at his brother and nodded. Just as he was about to open his mouth to reply when the company around them began rising to their feet, staring over the left side of the barge with mouths hanging open and arms falling to their sides.

"What's happening?" Kili asked, "what is it?"

"The mountain," Fili said in a low voice. Fili had his neck craned so that he could see over the side of the boat, his blue eyes focusing on the mountain with what seemed like mild displeasure. Kili scrambled to his feet, looking much as though he was on ice. "Woah, Kili, easy brother, easy." Fili said, rising and holding onto Kili's waist.

"Aren't you happy to see it?" Kili asked, throwing his brother a quick glance. Fili smiled at the look on his brother's face, the same look he recalled his brother wearing when Thorin retold stories of the mountain when they were dwarflings.

"Of course I am." Fili said, though he didn't feel the way he thought he'd feel when they first set out from the Blue Mountains. Over the past few weeks, the mountain seemed to have lost it's appeal. He wouldn't allow himself to get excited – not until his brother was well again, the Necromancer banished - wouldn't let it drag his thoughts away from what was really important. But he forced a smile towards the mountain, pretending to share in Kili's excitement, pretending to share the company's awe. He looked at it, emerging through the fog, huge – bigger than he had thought – and somewhat forbidding. Even stood alone, it was powerfully dominating. He turned his head to look at Thorin, his uncle seeming as though he had seen a ghost. Though, Fili supposed, it was. Under different circumstances, Fili thought he may have felt the same – he felt like he'd known the mountain for forever, with all the stories he'd been told – but the circumstances were not different. He looked back towards Kili, seeing the way he swayed unsteadily on his feet with each rock of the barge, his eyes struggling to stay focused when his mind and body fought to keep him upright. Fili reached his hands to grab his shoulders.

"Come on, brother, sit back down."

"…But…"

"The mountain isn't going anywhere." He pressed down on his younger brother's shoulders, gently lowering him to the floor. Kili coughed once and rested his head back against the side of the barge. He couldn't have been stood for more than a minute but his head felt light and floaty. He squeezed his eyes closed and drew in a long breath – the air was getting much colder now.

From where he had been, steering at the back of the barge, Bard marched across the deck not paying much attention to the dwarves, still staring openmouthed at the shadow of the mountain through the fog. Instead the man's eyes stared straight ahead.

"The money quick," he implored, "give it to me." Thorin turned to shoot him a stern glare, arms crossed over his chest.

"We will pay you when we get our provisions. Not before."

"If you value your freedom, you'll do as I say." Bard's voice was harsh, "there are guards ahead." The company followed his gaze as wooden structures, tall and grey, emerged from the fog, their shapes becoming more pronounced as the barge floated closer. Voices of men, still yet to be spotted through the mist, carried over the water. "The money, quick." Bard repeated. This time, no body spoke back as the company hurried to gather the coins and give them to him, the shapes looming closer. Bard counted the coins in his hand and nodded. "Good," he said, "now, get in the barrels" He jerked his head towards the wooden drums.

"You're joking?" Dwalin growled, brows raised. But nothing about Bard's demeanour suggested he was being anything but serious.

"You can't be seen," he said, monotone. He and Dwalin held eye contact for some moments, before the dwarf, with a grumble, broke the gaze and turned away. The other dwarves, at first, didn't move. Not until Bard repeated himself with the same dry tone, "the barrels, now."

"Come on, Kee." Fili said, pulling his brother to his feet, noticing the slight wobble in Kili's posture as he stood. He wasn't particularly happy with the idea of his sibling, sick with a fever, being crammed into a barrel. "Why don't I unbind you?" He suggested, Kili frowned at him with instant dismissal. Fili sighed. "Just whilel you're in there. It wont be very comfortable with your hands tied behind you back." He offered a smile but his brother simply shook his head.

"It's a barrel, it's not supposed to be comfortable."

"Kee…"

"We can't risk it. Can't risk me." Kili whispered, eyes flicking towards Bard who was watching them from the back of the barge. He sighed. "Just help me in."

Bilbo pressed his face against the barrel, eye gazing out through a hole in the wood, watching as Bard tied the barge up and strode across the dock. The dock was busy with traders and fishermen, busying themselves with their work and shouting jokes from boat-to-boat. The grey mist clinging to the structure. Bard seemed to know precisely where he was heading, dodging through the crowds to meet a man, dressed in a shabby hat and an equally shabby coat which brushed the top of worn boots, with whom he shock hands.

"What's he doing?" Bilbo heard Dwalin ask.

"He's talking to someone." He replied. At that moment, Bard looked directly towards the barrels, the man beside him following his gaze. Bard raised his arm and pointed. With a gasp, Bilbo ducked down further in his own drum, heart thumping in his chest. "He's pointing right at us."

"What?!" Came Thorin's voice some barrels away.

"He's selling us out!" Dwalin growled. At this there came the sounds of the company mumbling an shifting about with panic. Dwalin curled his fists and pressed the sides of them into the wood of the barrel. Above the noises of the others he heard a mechanical clicking sound, that seemed very out of place. He strained his ears as it got louder, seeming to circle above the barge, grinding and churning and then felt something drop onto the back of his neck, slimy and cold. And then there came more, dropping around him, filling his nostrils with a horrid stench. Fish. He groaned – hearing the company do the same – trying his best to hold his breath as the fish continued to fall, by the dozen, on top of him, quickly filling the barrel.

The barge bobbed along the lake, leaving the docks behind it as they disappeared back into the mist. Bard steered the barge to the left, dodging a towering rock, briefly chilling beneath it's shadow. In front of him muffled groans emanated from the barrels on the deck, some of the fish moving as the dwarves inside shifted. On the dock, it had taken all his will power not to smirk as the fish were dropped into the barrels, wishing he could see the dwarves expressions – especially the bald one, that one had an attitude problem. Ahead of him he saw the shapes of more buildings appearing on the horizon, the fog thinning to let them through. Bard kicked the nearest barrel.

"Quiet." He said, "we're approaching the toll gate." A seagull cried out overhead, hungrily eyeing up the fish on the barge. Bard kept the boat steady as he neared the Laketown gate, the buildings growing up around him bathed a deep orange from the early sun.

"Halt!" Cried a greying man, appearing out of the toll booth with a lamp. "Goods inspection!" His long black coat billowed slightly as he strode towards the barge. "Papers please," he said, adjusting the leather cap on his head. "Oh, it's you Bard."

"Morning Percy." Bard replied with a nod.

"Anything to declare?"

"Nothing. Other than I am cold and tired and ready for home." He pulled the papers from the pocket inside his old coat and passed them over.

"You and me both." Percy hardly glanced at the papers before he quickly returned to the booth and stamped them. "Here we are," he smiled, "all in order." He began passing the sheets back to the bargeman when they were snatched from his hand by a greasy man dressed all in black.

"Not so fast." He said with a sneer. From the barge, Bard rolled his eyes with a groan. He stared at Alfred with distain, the Master's minion was as cruel and stupid as the master himself, but much more sly. Alfred unfolded the papers with crocked, dirty fingers. "Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm,' he read. He glanced up with a smirk and peered into the barrels, "only they're not empty," he walked down the steps, guards on his heels, and threw the papers away into the cold wind, "are they, Bard? If I remember correctly, you're licensed as a bargeman, not" he picked one of the fish and held if up, "a fisherman."

"That's none of your business" Bard said back.

"Wrong." Alfred sneered, "it's the Master's business, which makes it my business." Alfred always spoke with an air of self-importance which made Bard hate the greasy little man even more.

"Oh, come on Alfred, have a heart," not a great chance of that, Bard thought between words, "people have to eat."

"These fish are illegal." Alfred tossed the fish into the water and turned to the guards behind him, "empty the barrels into the water."

"You heard him." One of the guards barked gruffly. Bard watched them, his muscles stiffening, as the boarded the barge and gathered around the barrels.

"Come on, people are struggling." Bard said, trying to keep his voice stern, resolute, the guards shuffling the barrels to the edge of the barge. "Times are hard, food is scare."

"That's not my problem."

"And when the people hear the master is dumping fish in the lake," Bard turned to Alfred, his voice and expression turning hard. The other man's face wavering slightly. "When the rioting starts." Behind him, he heard the first fish land in the water. "Will it be your problem then?" Alfred looked at him and then to the fish, eyes flicking between the two for some time. Bard's fingers twitched at his sides as the barrels continued to be emptied. Any more and the dwarves would be revealed. He felt his chest tightening, panic rising. Eventually, finally, Alfred held up a hand.

"Stop." He growled. The guards obeyed, immediately returning the barrels to their places and leaving the barge. "Ever the people's champion." Alfred said, lips curling back in disgust. "You might be in favour now, bargeman, but it won't last." The moment his back was turned, Bard let out a sigh. A breath he felt like he had been holding forever.

"Raise the gate!" Percy cried. The chain began to groan and click and Bard returned to steer the barge again, feeling suddenly lighter.

"The master has his eye on you," Alfred hissed, half hidden in the shadows, "you do well to remember. We know where you lived." Bard eyed him as he floated past and allowed a smirk to appear on his face.

"It's a small town, Alfred, everyone knows where everyone lives."


-AN-

Drop the mic, Bard. Love that little bit of sass there. Also, I'm not sure whether it's just because I'm tired, but the chapter title amuses me greatly :')

I am SO sorry this took so long! Omg, I'm terrible! I hope you guys forgive me and enjoy this chapter anyway. I really need to update more often! I'm gonna try so I don't keep you all waiting for so long!

I'm really loving Fili in this fic! I love how he's gone from "omg, we're reclaiming the mountian!" to "Omg, who cares?" He really has his priorities straight. Love me some Big brother Fili!

If you guys enjoyed, don't forget to leave me a comment! Maybe it'll encourage me to update sooner ;) faves and follows are also appreciated!