"Fíli!" Kíli cried, shaking his brother's shoulders. "Fíli, wake up!"
No response came from the blond dwarf, and Kíli moaned in horror. He put a hand on Fíli's cheek, and all the blood drained from his face.
He was ice cold.
"No," Kíli whispered, shaking his head as his heart pounded even harder. "No, no, no, no no no no no no…"
He slapped his brother's cheek gently. Wake up, Fíli. You have to wake up. You can't be dead. When no response came, Kíli bit back a wail and sucked in a deep breath; he laid two trembling fingers on Fíli's jugular and closed his eyes, desperate to feel a pulse. A relieved, manic laugh left him as he felt a steady thump-thump, and he leaned down and rested his cheek on Fíli's chest, listening to the strong heartbeat.
"Oh, Mahal," he whispered. He did not move for a while, willing his own heartbeat to come back to normal as relief washed over him. Fíli was alive. He was unconscious, but he was alive. Then he came back to the present and realized that he needed to do something. He rose to his feet and dashed to the mouth of the cave.
"Gimli!" he shouted. "Gimli, come quickly!"
Gimli was already halfway there, but he seemed to have been taking his time to get to the cave. Kíli could understand his hesitation; they had been searching for hours, and the further north they went, the further south they'd have to go to get back home. They were already at least an hour, if not two, from the village. When he saw Kíli waving, however, the younger dwarf quickly made his way to the cave and dismounted.
"Did you find him?" he said.
"Yes, but he won't wake," said Kíli, his voice cracking. "He's ice cold. Let's carry him out into the sun."
Gimli nodded and followed Kíli inside to where Fíli lay motionless. They both knelt beside the blonde's still frame; Kíli shook his brother once more, but Fíli still remained unresponsive.
"What's wrong with him?" said Gimli.
"I don't know," said Kíli. He quickly checked him over for wounds or broken bones. "Nothing is broken… no injuries that I can see. Come, let's get him into the light."
Kíli and Gimli lifted Fíli between them and carried their kin into the morning sun; they laid him in the damp grass and looked him over once more.
"He's so cold," Gimli remarked. "Hypothermia?"
"Maybe," said Kíli. "But his breathing and heartbeat are too strong. If he were freezing to death, he would have been dead by now, wouldn't he?"
"Let's get him home," said Gimli. "I'll get my uncle. Maybe he'll know."
"Right," said Kíli, and the two dwarves lifted Fíli onto Basil. Gimli held him in place as Kíli ran back for his forgotten sword; then, Kíli took his cousin's place at Fíli's side, and Gimli mounted his own pony. They began the long trek home with hearts full of disquiet; not once did Fíli stir.
"Thorin!" Kíli cried from outside his home. "Uncle! Come quickly!"
Thorin came outside moments later, his expression crossed with a fury that melted the moment he saw his elder nephew doubled over on Kíli's pony. He rushed to Fíli's side and gripped his face, lifting his head to search for signs of life.
"What happened?" said Thorin brusquely.
"I don't know," said Kíli. "I found him unconscious in a cave up north."
"Is that where you and Gimli snuck off to?" said Thorin. "Glóin came by this morning, and he was livid. Where is Gimli?"
"He's getting Óin."
"Well, let's get your brother inside," Thorin said. "Help me carry him."
They brought Fíli in together and laid him in bed; Thorin checked his pulse and his breathing. Finding nothing amiss, he laid a hand on Fíli's forehead.
"He doesn't have a fever," he mused.
"He was ice cold when I found him," Kíli said. "Gimli thought it might be hypothermia, but—aside from how cold he was, there was no sign of it."
"Hm," said Thorin, looking his elder nephew over worriedly; he brushed a stray hair off Fíli's face. Kíli and Thorin sat in silence for a moment, both wrapped up in their own thoughts.
"I knew something was wrong," said Kíli quietly. "I could feel it… no one believed me."
Thorin looked up at Kíli then, a look in his blue eyes that the young dwarf did not recognize.
"Kíli—"
"I'm here! I'm back," called Gimli from the kitchen, startling the king and the younger prince. "I've brought Uncle."
"Óin," Thorin called. "Thank you for coming."
"Of course," said Óin. "Let me see him."
Kíli stood in the corner of the room and chewed anxiously on his thumbnail as Óin examined his brother. After checking his heart, his breathing, and various other things, Óin sighed and shook his head.
"Take off his shirt," said Óin, and Gimli and Thorin quickly stripped Fíli of his tunic. Óin checked him over and shook his head again.
"I cannot see any cause for unconsciousness," he said. "He is perfectly healthy. He just isn't awake."
"Will he, though?" said Kíli. "Wake up, I mean."
"I don't know, lad," said Óin. "I don't know why he is unconscious. We will just have to watch him and hope he wakes."
"Could you try smelling salts?" Thorin suggested.
"Oh! Yes," said Óin, and he retrieved them from his bag. Kíli held his breath as the old apothecary passed them under Fíli's nose, but still he did not stir. Kíli let out a soft moan and slid to the floor, taking his head in his hands.
"I knew something was wrong, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it," he moaned. "Why did no one listen to me?" He looked up at Thorin pleadingly. "Why didn't you listen to me?"
"Kíli, I didn't know—"
"You didn't know! You didn't! I did!" Kíli shouted. "You said he would be fine! Look at him!" He threw his hand forward towards his brother. "He is not fine!"
"Calm down, lad," Thorin said. "I had no reason to believe—"
"You had me!" Kíli exploded. He felt tears well up in his eyes and did not hold them back. "But you didn't listen! You never listen!"
"Enough," said Thorin sharply, and Kíli bowed his head, gripping his hair tightly and breathing hard. The room was silent for several long moments as Kíli fought to regain his composure. A hand touched his shoulder, and he jumped and looked up into Gimli's concerned eyes.
"You all right, Kíli?" he said.
Kíli sniffed and nodded vacantly. "I'll be fine," he said with a wavering voice. Gimli smiled sadly, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and patted his cousin's shoulder. Kíli looked beyond the ruddy young dwarf to Thorin and Óin.
"Is there anything that can be done?" he said.
"We wait," said Óin.
Kíli sat alone in his and Fíli's room, cross-legged on the bed next to his unconscious brother. He still had not so much as stirred in the hours since Kíli and Gimli had brought him home, and Kíli's heart was continually in his throat. With no clue as to what was wrong, he had no clue when—or if—his brother would wake up.
Kíli undid the braids in Fíli's hair and ran his fingers through the waves, untangling the snarls that always found their way into his brother's long, golden hair. He began to re-braid the loose hair, taking care to make the braids straight and clean.
"You always want to look nice," Kíli murmured. "Even in your sleep…"
It was true. Fíli would take out his braids and re-do them before bed, only to take them out again in the morning and repeat the routine. Kíli had never understood it, but it was so characteristically Fíli that doing it made him feel some sort of normalcy. He finished the four braids and sighed, dropping his hands into his lap forlornly and staring at his brother.
"Wake up," he whispered. "Please, Fee."
Suddenly, Fíli inhaled sharply and furrowed his brow; Kíli's eyes widened as hope and excitement blossomed in his chest.
"Fíli?" he called softly, laying a hand on the covers over his brother's chest and shaking him gently. "Wake up, brother."
Fíli whimpered, but his eyes did not open; Kíli shook him again.
"What's the matter, Fíli?" he said. "Wake up."
Instead, Fíli let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Kíli jumped back, heart pounding, as Fíli lashed out, his arms still pinned under the covers. He let out another scream and thrashed violently, and Kíli reached out to grab his arms.
"Fíli!" he said frantically. "Calm down! It's all right! Wake up!"
Fíli let out a moan and yanked at his brother's grip, but Kíli held him tight. Thorin ran into the room with wide eyes, freezing at the sight before him.
"Uncle, help!" Kíli cried. "He won't wake!"
Thorin came to the bedside and tried to take hold of Fíli's face, but the blond dwarf was tossing his head back and forth as he writhed on the bed. He curled suddenly into a ball, pulling his arms protectively over his head despite Kíli's grip and let out an agonized wail. Kíli let go, horrified, and looked up at Thorin, who was hesitantly reaching out to his older nephew as he curled into a tighter and tighter ball, his wailing still not ceasing. As Thorin touched his face, he jerked back and screamed again. Quickly, Thorin withdrew his hands, stricken.
"What do we do?" said Kíli.
"Try to wake him again," Thorin said. "Keep trying."
Kíli nodded and shook Fíli's shoulder, sending him only further into hysterics, but Kíli only shook him again.
"Fíli! It's all right!" he shouted. "Wake up!"
"Kíli, his hands," Thorin said.
"What about—oh, Fee," Kíli said, horrified. Blood beaded up from Fíli's palms where he had dug in with his fingernails; Kíli grabbed his hands, struggling to keep his hold as his brother jerked away from him, and fought to pry his hands open. Fíli let out a hoarse cry and shook his head violently, kicking his legs. Thorin leaned on them before Fíli could do any more damage.
"Give me one of his hands," Thorin shouted over Fíli's howling. Kíli pulled one of Fíli's arms towards his uncle and worked on pulling his brother's fingernails out of the palm of his other hand. He was finally successful, and he held the screaming dwarf's hand tightly. Fíli squeezed back, and a trickle of blood ran down Kíli's arm. Thorin passed Fíli's other open hand to Kíli, who took it and locked his elbows over Fíli's to keep his arms in place.
"Brother, please, wake up," Kíli cried as Fíli fought to escape his grip. "It's all right, Fee. Wake up. Come on. Please."
The only response from Fíli was panicked gasping as he struggled violently to escape. Blood began to trickle down Kíli's other arm. He leaned forward, putting his weight on his brother's heaving chest, and pressed his forehead into his shoulder.
"It's okay," he said hoarsely. "It's okay—it's all right—you're safe now. You're safe, Fee. It's all right."
Fíli still struggled, but he was pinned underneath his brother and his uncle now and could not harm himself. For long minutes, Kíli continued to speak comforting words through his brother's screams and wails, tears flowing from his own eyes as the unconscious dwarf jerked beneath him and never woke. After what felt like an eternity, something broke, and Fíli finally stopped struggling. Silence fell as the air became void of Fíli's unconscious screams, and in the vacuum of sound only the harsh breathing of the three dwarves could be heard.
Hesitantly, Kíli lifted himself off his brother and peered into his face. Tear tracks crossed his cheeks and the sides of his face, but his expression was once again placid. His hair was everywhere, bits of it stuck to his wet cheeks. One of the braids Kíli had just put in had come undone. Kíli held Fíli's hands with one hand and used the other to brush away the stray hairs; he cringed when he left a smudge of blood on his brother's cheek. Fíli was still—as still has he had been when Kíli had found him cold in the cave.
"What… in Durin's name… was that?" said Thorin. Kíli had never heard his uncle so afraid.