Kíli awoke with a miserable feeling in his heart and a sharp pain in his side. He looked to his right, but Fíli was not there. He was alone, then. He gritted his teeth and grunted, twisting slightly in an attempt to pull his lung off his ribs. He was rewarded with a terrible scraping feeling, but then the pain melted away; relieved, he relaxed, sinking back into the pillow.
He heard the bedroom door open but ignored it, trying to fall back asleep. His mother's gentle hand touched his back.
"Kíli? Are you awake?"
"Yes," Kíli said into his pillow.
"Are you hungry?"
Kíli considered this. He turned his head to face Dís.
"Yes," he said.
Dís patted his back gently. "There's food ready in the kitchen," she said. "Are you well enough to join us, or shall I—"
"No, I can come out," Kíli said. "Just… give me a few minutes."
"Do you need help?" said Dís.
"No!" Kíli said, a little too sharply. "No, I'm fine. Thank you, though."
"…You're sure you're all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine; I just need to… put clothes on," Kíli mumbled.
Dís laughed. "You didn't even bother to dress before getting in bed?"
"No," said Kíli sheepishly, burying his face back into his pillow. I was too upset.
"Well, join us when you're clothed," she said good-naturedly. Kíli heard her footsteps make towards the door, and he pulled himself up and called out:
"Is Fíli here?"
Dís stopped in the doorway. "Not yet," she replied. "I'm sure he'll be home soon."
"Hm," said Kíli. He tried to sound unconcerned, but an unsettling feeling turned his insides. Fíli had gone out on his own before—he would be fine. He was always fine.
The bedroom door clicked shut, and Kíli sank into the mattress for a few moments. Then he steeled himself and whipped off the covers; cool air floated over his skin, and his hair stood on end. Quickly, he scrambled for clothes and pulled them on, tugging down his tunic as he stepped out into the kitchen. Thorin was sitting casually, his arms behind his head and his feet on the table, and Dís was carrying food over from the stove.
"Get your filthy feet off the table," Dís said, slapping at Thorin's legs. Her brother obliged, but he took his time of it, earning himself a disparaging look. Kíli snorted and sat down as Dís laid down her burden, and he tore at a piece of meat, stuffing it into his mouth unceremoniously.
"Where did everyone go?" Kíli asked through a mouth full of food.
"They left hours ago," said Thorin, focused on the meat in front of him.
Kíli blinked and swallowed his food. He looked out the window; to his surprise, the sun was already setting.
"How long was I asleep?" he said.
"Quite a while," said Dís. She cut off a piece of meat in a decidedly more civilized fashion than her brother and her son. "And you looked like you needed it."
Kíli ducked his head, scowling. "I'm fine," he muttered.
"'Fine' does not look like being half carried home by your brother," said Dís, gently but firmly.
"He wasn't carrying me—I just—I was just a bit tired—"
"There is no need to pretend, Kíli," said Thorin. "You almost drowned. No one would think less of you for taking time to recover."
Kíli ripped another bite of meat off his chunk and said nothing.
"Ale?" said Thorin.
Kíli grunted, and Thorin rose to retrieve it.
"Did Fíli say when he would be back?" Kíli said.
Dís shook her head. "He didn't say anything to anyone. He just stormed out."
"Almost knocked Balin over, too," said Thorin. "I'll have to talk to him about that." He set a mug of ale before Kíli, who took a long swig and set the mug down with a satisfied sigh. He ripped off another chunk of meat and stuffed it in his mouth.
"Kíli! Slow down," said Dís, eyeing her youngest sharply. Kíli paused and looked at her blankly.
"I'm hungry," he said.
Dís rolled her eyes, but did not scold him again. Instead, she focused her attention on her brother.
"Thorin! Save some food for your nephew."
Thorin raised his eyebrows and gestured at Kíli.
"He's already got plenty."
"Your other nephew," said Dís. "He'll likely be hungry when he gets home."
"If he comes home," Thorin muttered, eyeing the remaining food wistfully.
Kíli looked up. "What do you mean?" he said.
"Sounded like he needed some space," said Thorin. "He will come back. In his own time."
"You think he'll be out all night?" said Kíli, setting down his food and ale as the unsettling feeling returned.
"Honestly, Kíli," said Dís. "Why are you worried? He's a trained fighter, and he's been gone overnight before."
"Not without me," Kíli muttered.
"I thought he didn't want to deal with you right now," said Thorin.
Kíli felt heat rise into his cheeks. "You heard that?"
"It was hard not to."
"You didn't have to scold him like that," said Kíli. "It wasn't his fault."
"That isn't for you to decide," said Thorin sharply, and Kíli bowed his head, chagrined.
"But it wasn't," he said softly.
"Fíli is heir to the throne of Erebor, and as such, he must learn to take responsibility for what has been placed in his charge."
"Me? Uncle, I'm not a child—"
"I've told him to look after you, and he didn't," said Thorin. "It is the duty of an older brother—"
"I don't need looking after!"
"Did your brother just save you from drowning today, or didn't he?" said Thorin, his eyes challenging.
Kíli opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. Yes, Fíli had saved him, but he would only prove to Thorin that he did need looking after if he pointed out that the rescue meant his brother had not failed. As much as he wanted to defend Fíli, he did not want to admit that. Instead of speaking, he rose and started for the front door.
"And where do you think you're going?" said Dís, rising and following him.
"I'm going to find Fíli," he said.
"No, no you are not," said Dís. She caught up to him and grabbed his shoulders, turning him away from the door and pushing him towards his room. Kíli fought her grip, but she held tight.
"Mum…"
"Sit down and eat, or back to bed with you," she said firmly. "You heard Óin. No gallivanting about. You are to rest."
"I just rested," Kíli protested.
"Your hands are shaking."
Kíli balled his hands into fists, but he knew he had lost the battle. He allowed himself to be pushed back to the table and sat with a huff—one that cost him his breath, but he recovered quickly, missing Thorin's suspicious glance. The three were silent as they ate their fill. When Kíli had finished, he pushed his plate away and laid his arms on the table, dropping his forehead onto them.
"Kíli, why don't you head back to bed?" said Dís.
Kíli shook his head. "I'll wait for Fíli," he said to the table.
"We don't know how long he'll be, love," said Dís. "Come, get back to bed."
"I'm not tired," Kíli said, even as he felt any energy he'd had leaving him. He felt his mother's gentle hands on his elbows, pulling him up, and he begrudgingly obliged, allowing her to push him towards his room.
"You've been through a lot today," Dís said. "Fíli will come back. You rest."
"I'm not a child," said Kíli, pulling away from her grip.
"Then stop acting like one and use some sense," said Thorin. The words were sharp, but his voice was kind; Kíli ducked his head, still feeling the sting of the rebuke.
"All right, fine," he said, trudging off to his room alone. He shut himself in and dropped face-first onto the bed with a sigh, feeling miserable; after a few minutes, he felt himself dozing off and pulled himself further onto the bed and under the covers. He hadn't wanted to admit it to his mother and his uncle, but he still felt exhausted and short of breath, and it frightened him. He did not like feeling like this—ever. He had had quite enough of it for anyone's lifetime.
Kíli rolled onto his side and pulled his covers up to his chin, staring at the empty space next to him sadly. Surely Fíli was not so angry that he would sleep elsewhere—surely he would be back soon. Fíli always forgave him. Always.
Morning came to Kíli and Fíli's bedroom with bright sun, birdsong, and a distinct lack of one blond dwarf.
Kíli could feel Fíli's absence before he even opened his eyes. The only breathing he heard was his own—thankfully back to normal—and he was definitely stretched into Fíli's space, but he was not touching anyone. He opened his eyes sleepily and looked around, confirming what he already knew—Fíli had not returned.
With a sigh, Kíli whipped off his covers and slid lazily out of bed. He stretched and yawned, and then stumbled out into the kitchen. He looked around; no one was there. Dís and Thorin were already out working for the day, then—apparently they had decided to let him sleep in.
Perhaps Fíli had already come and gone. Kíli comforted himself with this thought as he pulled together some breakfast and ate quietly. Perhaps he was out checking the traps.
After his meal, Kíli geared up for his trek and set off to where he and Fíli had set traps the day before. He found two rabbits, but no Fíli. Dísheartened and slightly concerned, Kíli returned home in the late afternoon with his rabbits and found Dís in the kitchen. He handed her his catch, which she received happily as he placed a kiss on her forehead.
"Fíli been home?" he asked.
"I haven't seen him today," she replied.
Kíli knew that he really should not have been worried, but something in his gut kept telling him that something was wrong. He had to find his brother.
"I'm going to ask around," he said, peering into his and Fíli's room. No Fíli. "I'll be back."
"Wait," said Dís, catching his wrist. He turned to face her again. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better," said Kíli honestly. Dís searched his eyes and then nodded, satisfied.
"Don't worry too much, Kíli," she called as he headed for the door. "Fíli can take care of himself."
"I know," Kíli said, but at the moment, he was not sure he believed it.
"Nowhere," said Kíli, his head in his hands. "He's nowhere."
"He's got to be somewhere, Kíli," said Dís. "I'm sure he is fine. Here, let me make you a cup of tea."
"I don't want tea," Kíli grumbled as Dís put water on. "Something is wrong, Mum. I can feel it."
"Where did you search?" she said. Kíli could hear the exasperation in her voice, but he didn't care.
"I checked the traps, I checked the square, the woods, even the creek," Kíli said. "I've asked Balin and Dwalin, Glóin, Gimli, Óin, Dori, Bofur—I even asked Bifur. No one has seen him since yesterday."
The door opened then, and Kíli looked up hopefully, desperate to see his brother's golden hair and swinging braids. Instead, he saw the dark mane of his uncle, and he dropped his head onto the table.
"Evening," said Thorin, perplexed by his nephew's behavior. "Everything all right?"
"Kíli's been looking for Fíli all day," said Dís. "He reckons something has happened to him."
"Why would he stay away this long?" Kíli said, lifting his head. "He couldn't have been that angry. He's never that angry." Kíli met Thorin's eyes and thought he saw a glint of worry there. He seized upon it desperately.
"Let's go search for him, Uncle," he said. "Let's go find him."
"He's only been gone for a day, Kíli," said Thorin. "We'll go search for him, and then he will come home and wonder why we made such a fuss."
"What if he's broken something and can't get home?" Kíli cried. "What if he's—he's gotten hurt, or attacked by orcs, or he's unconscious somewhere-"
"Kíli, calm down," said Thorin. "You know your brother. You know he knows how to fight and survive."
"He's not invincible," Kíli said, giving Thorin a challenging glare.
"Watch your tone, boy," Thorin warned.
Kíli looked down at his hands. "Sorry, Uncle."
"If he isn't back by morning, we'll go out and search, all right?" said Thorin. "I promise."
Kíli didn't want to wait until morning. He wanted to search now—but he knew that Thorin would not agree to a search in the dark. Fruitless, he would say. Not to mention that apparently Kíli was the only one who could sense that something was wrong.
"All right," he said. "In the morning."
"If he has not already returned," Thorin said.
Kíli nodded, but he felt that Fíli would not be back any time soon.
It was after midnight, and still Fíli had not returned.
Kíli lay in bed alone, his body still, but his mind racing. Horrible images ran through his mind—Fíli bleeding, dying, falling from cliffs, being buried by rocks… a shudder went up his spine. He wasn't dead, at least. Kíli was not sure how he knew—but he did. That knowledge, however, did nothing to calm his fears.
What would Fíli do? Kíli asked himself. If he had gone missing, how long would Fíli wait to search for him?
The answer was surprisingly easy. He'd go right now. Kíli whipped off the covers and dressed quickly but silently. Thorin would not go with him—not at this hour. He would see it as foolish, but Kíli did not care. Fíli's life was more important than avoiding his uncle's ire.
If Fíli was hurt, Kíli would need someone with him to help carry—and ponies. They could cover more ground with ponies. But who could he ask? Not Balin or Dwalin. They were fiercely loyal to their king. Getting them involved would only see him being brought back home with stern glances and sharp reprimands. Óin was too much of an old codger to go on such a "fool's errand", and Glóin was almost as loyal to Thorin as Balin and Dwalin, if not just as much.
Gimli! Kíli seized upon the thought of his younger cousin. They were close, and Kíli knew that if he explained his worries to the adventurous dwarf, he would join him in a heartbeat. But how to get Gimli without waking Glóin? He would have to call him from his window.
As quietly as he could manage, Kíli tiptoed out of his room and into the dark kitchen. Even the fire was out—good. Everyone was asleep. He took down his sword and his bow—just in case, he told himself—and made it out of the house successfully.
Now for the ponies. Kíli crept behind the house to their small stable and saddled up his pony. He considered taking Fíli's, too—but that would only slow him down. If Fíli needed to ride, Kíli would walk.
"Come on, Basil. Quietly," he whispered to his pony. She followed him obediently until they stopped at Glóin's home, where he pulled a treat from his pocket and held it up to Basil's mouth. She took it happily, and Kíli stroked her mane.
"Stay here, girl," he whispered. "I'll be right back."
Basil stayed put, and Kíli crept up to Gimli's window, as he had many times before. The only dwarf who could cause more trouble than Fíli and Kíli was Gimli—when he was with his two older cousins. Kíli was sure that Glóin did not appreciate the two princes' influence on his only son, but Gimli had little regard for any opinion, save his own.
Kíli tapped on the glass of Gimli's window, squinting as he peered inside. It was dark; clearly, Gimli was asleep.
Tap-tap tap-tap-tap tap-tap. It was their code. If the blasted dwarf would wake up, he would know it was Kíli. He tried again. Tap-tap tap-tap-tap tap-tap.
Several moments later, Gimli's tired face appeared in the window. He opened it quickly, and Kíli jumped out of the way before it hit him in the face.
"What?" Gimli growled.
"Come outside. Bring your axe. I need your help," Kíli said.
"Where are we going?" Gimli said, and Kíli grinned. Of course Gimli would come with him. He always did.
"Fíli's still not back," he said. "I think something has happened to him. We're going to go search."
Gimli studied Kíli's face for a moment, and then he nodded seriously.
"I'll meet you out back," he said, disappearing into the inky darkness of his room.
"Bring your pony!" Kíli called, and then he ran to retrieve Basil.
Gimli appeared quickly with his own pony and his axe strapped onto his back. The cousins nodded in greeting, and Kíli mounted Basil as Gimli hopped on his own pony.
"Where to?" Gimli said.
"I already searched the woods," said Kíli. "Let's start up at the base of the mountain… there are caves for shelter there. Maybe he's that way."
"And if he isn't?" said Gimli.
Kíli set his mouth into a grim line.
"We keep looking."
Hours and hours had gone by, and still Kíli and Gimli had found no sign of their missing kin. They had finally decided to split up and search, reasoning that they could cover more ground that way, though they both kept their weapons at the ready. If someone—or something—had the strength or skill to take out Fíli, it would certainly be a worthy opponent for either dwarf.
Kíli looked towards the east, worriedly observing the growing light in the sky. Thorin and Dís would be waking soon to find not just one, but two missing young dwarves, and Kíli cringed to think of the verbal lashing he would receive.
No, Kíli told himself. Focus. Fíli is more important.
"Gimli!" he called.
"What?" came his younger cousin's gruff voice from behind him.
"Anything?"
"Nothing. We'll find him, Kíli."
"If he's even around here," Kíli muttered. He was beginning to seriously doubt himself now. What if Fíli had come home during the night, and Kíli was worried for nothing?
But what if he didn't? his mind said. In his heart, he could still feel that something was not right; it was a feeling that was too strong to ignore. He tromped off further towards the north.
"There are a few more caves this way," Kíli called. "Let's check those—but I don't think he would go much further than that."
"Aye, it's further than I've gone," said Gimli, catching up with his older cousin.
They banded back together and searched further north, taking the caves one at a time, each with his own torch. After three more caves with no luck, Kíli was ready to give up. The morning sun shone into the cracks and crevices of the rocks and cliffs, rendering their torches unnecessary, and they got rid of them with heavy hearts.
"Maybe he's already home," Gimli said hopefully as they both mounted their ponies.
"If he is, I'll kill him," Kíli joked, though his own humor was lost on him. His stomach churned with disquiet. He turned and looked behind, hoping that he had not somehow missed his brother and doomed him to suffer alone. Perhaps when he went out again with Thorin…
A cave further up caught his eye then—one that he couldn't recall seeing before. A small stream of water trickled from it, and Kíli narrowed his eyes. Without a word, he turned Basil and kicked, galloping off towards one more unexplored cave.
"Kíli!" called Gimli, but he ignored him, pressing onward. A sick feeling was rising in his stomach, and he felt certain that this one, this cave, held some answer for him.
Kíli dismounted and peered into the cave warily. The mouth was wide and low, and Kíli could hear the rushing of stronger waters inside that clearly supplied this little stream. He stepped in and looked about, letting his eyes adjust to the lesser light and drawing his sword. Wolves, wargs, goblins, bandits—he was ready. Someone was here. He could feel eyes on him.
"Fíli?" he called, searching left and right. "Fíli, are you here? Are you hurt?"
The only answer he got was his own echo. He gripped his sword tighter and took a few more steps. The feeling of being watched was stronger now, and he wished that he had not left Gimli so far behind. He needed someone to watch his back.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Kíli could see that the cave was wide, but relatively shallow, with no twists or turns to be found. It almost looked to be carved by hands, it was so perfectly circular; the only indication of the rushing water he heard was a small waterfall near the back, its source too small to allow a dwarf through. No chance of Fíli there, then. There must be a river running through the mountain, Kíli thought. Boulders were peppered throughout the cave, and the floor was uneven; Kíli tripped once, even as he tried to watch his step.
"Fíli?" he called again, but there was no answer. He sighed and twirled his sword impatiently, feeling the hair on the back of his neck rising as he stepped further inside. There was someone—something—here. He was sure of it; whatever it was, he could not see it, and it made him nervous. He wanted to get out as quickly as possible. Swiftly, he swept through the cave, but no Fíli. Exasperated and beyond worried, Kíli dropped his sword tip-down into the stone and cursed.
Then something caught his eye.
Kíli turned his sword carefully, watching the bar of light reflected by the morning sun bounce off the walls of the cave. Everywhere it was a white, wet light—but then Kíli saw it again. A flash of gold. He wiggled the blade, and the gold flash remained, hidden behind a boulder. Kíli sidestepped, picking up his sword and holding it at the ready. Please don't be dead, he thought. Please be okay. If that's you, Fíli, please don't be dead.
Kíli took a deep breath and stepped closer to the flash of gold, hoping that the unmoving glint of light was not his big brother—that Fíli was home safe and sound, drinking ale or smoking his pipe; that Kíli would come home and Fíli would laugh at him for being so worried. Maybe even call him a fool. Kíli would gladly take the teasing as long as his big brother was alive.
As the mysterious golden light came into view, Kíli held his breath, fearing the worst but desperate for the best. He closed his eyes tight and took a final step forward; then, he opened his eyes.
A low moan escaped Kíli's lips, and he was vaguely aware of the sound of his sword hitting the ground as he ran forward and crashed to his knees beside the motionless figure. His worst prediction had come true. The still body beside him was none other than Fíli.