At first, Kíli did not notice that Fíli had awoken, tired as he was. When he finally caught sight of the dark eyes looking up at him from behind the iron bars, he started. A mirthless grin played on Fíli's lips.

"You're awake," Kíli said, regaining his composure quickly.

Fíli did not respond. He merely glared.

Kíli straightened and looked towards Dwalin, who was leaning against the wall, cleaning his fingernails with a small knife. The old warrior said nothing, merely meeting the brunet's eyes for a moment before returning to his nails. Kíli took a deep breath. Now was his chance—but would Fíli speak? If he did, would he tell him the truth?

"I need to ask you some questions," he said, forcing the waver out of his voice.

A glimmer of panic shone in Fíli's features before a stone mask closed over them. He sat up straight, fixing his unnaturally dark eyes on his brother's face. A slight quiver passed through his bottom lip before he bit it.

"I won't answer," he said.

"I'll keep asking until you do," Kíli shot back. "You may not remember me, but I know who you are, Fee—Fíli—I know who you really are. And I will have my brother back, with your help or without."

Fíli scoffed and looked down; a messy, half-undone braid fell over his face. Kíli's fingers twitched—he wanted to fix that braid, to make Fíli look more like Fíli. He leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands together.

"What do you remember?" he said.

Fíli's head snapped up, a fierce scowl on his face.

"I already told you," he snapped.

"Yes, yes—you told me everything I was there for," Kíli said with a wave of his hand. "But what else? What about before you awoke? You must remember something."

Fíli squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "There's nothing there."

Kíli would not be fooled. He knew his brother, though his brother did not know him, and he could tell when he was lying—and he was lying now.

"Tell me the truth," he pressed.

"I am telling you the truth," said Fíli through gritted teeth.

"When you were unconscious, you were screaming. Do you remember why?"

"Stop," Fíli growled.

"You do, don't you?" Kíli said eagerly, though his heart was thumping. Part of his mind was telling him to stop, remembering his mother's words—don't push him—but the other part was pushing him onward, desperate to get any information at all. "Why, Fíli? Why were you screaming?"

Fíli shook his head violently. "Don't," he said, his voice cracking. "Stop it. Just stop it."

"Laddie, perhaps you should let him alone," said Dwalin, though he did not move from his spot.

"No!" Kíli said, though in truth, he wanted to. He was hurting his brother, and he knew it. But—"I have to know! I have to find a way to bring him back!"

Dwalin was silent, and Kíli turned back to his brother.

"I am trying to help you," he said. "Just tell me."

"You're not helping," Fíli growled. "Leave me alone, or I swear I will kill you the first chance I get."

Kíli pushed away the deep stab of hurt those words brought and pressed further. "What did this to you?" he said.

"I'll wrap my hands around that neck and choke the life out of you!" Fíli shouted. Kíli could see his hands shaking.

"What do you remember?"

"I'll gouge out your eyes and cut out your tongue!"

"Tell me!"

"You'll beg for death before I'm through with you!"

"I'm not going to stop, Fíli, until you tell me!" Kíli shouted, standing to his feet.

Without warning, Fíli threw himself to the ground and buried his face in the pillow Dís had brought him. He let out a long, hoarse scream that shook Kíli to the very core of his being. Dwalin pushed off the wall and stepped forward; Kíli met his eyes, wherein he saw the same fear and confusion that coursed through his own heart. They looked back to their kin, who had curled into a tight ball, his arms over his head and his body shaking with sobs. Kíli stepped hesitantly towards the cell and grabbed the iron bars.

"Fíli?"

"It was d-darkness and despair and a-anger and laughter," Fíli sobbed. "Hollow eyes and sharp teeth and d-dead flesh. It wouldn't let me go—it laughed and laughed and I screamed and begged but it wouldn't stop, it wouldn't stop, it wouldn't stop!"

The last phrase came out in a shriek as Fíli curled tighter into himself, shaking uncontrollably. Pitiful sobs left his lips as he began to whimper.

"Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, no, no, please…"

The repetition continued, and Kíli swallowed, unsure of what to do. He looked back again to Dwalin, but he was gone. He took a deep breath and sank to his knees, pressing into the bars that stood between him and his brother. He called out softly, but Fíli merely moaned and scooted himself into the corner of the cell, hiding his face and continuing to whisper to no one.

"Stop, stop, please, please no, no…"

Kíli could do nothing but watch. Dwalin had taken the keys with him, wherever he had gone, and even if he hadn't Kíli was sure that his comfort would not be welcomed.

What have I done?

He sat in silence, regret coursing painfully through him as Fíli was lost to reality. He had done this. Once again, he had pushed too hard, and Fíli had snapped. Would he never learn? This new Fíli was fragile and frightening and full of fear and anger, so unlike the brother he knew.

Minutes later, Dwalin returned with Óin in tow. Kíli looked up at his two elders wearily.

"Help him," he said.

Óin stepped closer to the cell and stared at Fíli for a few moments, his lips pressed together and his eyes filled with compassion. Then, he reached into his satchel and pulled out a small bottle filled with a greenish-yellow substance.

"Let me in," he said softly. Dwalin stepped forward and unlocked the door; Óin stepped in quietly and knelt at Fíli's side. Fíli did not notice him at first, his head tucked into his arms and his babbling covering the sounds of Óin approaching. When the older dwarf touched his shoulder, he jumped and backed further into the corner, peeking through his arms at his attacker. Óin held out the bottle in his hand; Fíli stared at him apprehensively.

"This will make it stop," Óin said.

Fíli slowly let down his arms, but made no further move towards his cousin. His fingers twitched.

"It'll stop?" he said, his voice high and childish. The former animosity seemed to be completely gone, replaced by a frantic fear of whatever was in his mind from which he was so desperate to escape. Óin nodded and uncorked the bottle, the pop making Fíli flinch. He held it out again, and Fíli reached out with trembling hands and took it. He gulped it down quickly, and Óin rose and stepped back out of the cell. Kíli made to get up and go in, but Dwalin put out an arm and stopped him.

"Let him be, laddie," Dwalin said. He locked the door, and Kíli watched his brother's trembling slowly cease and his whimpered pleas quieten as the medicine took hold.

"What did you give him?" Kíli said to Óin.

"Just something to calm him," said the old apothecary. "It settles the mind and slows thought. He should be sluggish for a few hours, but he'll be relaxed."

Kíli turned to Óin and nodded. "Thank you," he said.

Óin smiled sadly and nodded in return. Kíli pulled himself up on the bars watching as Fíli curled up on his pallet and hugged his pillow tightly. One cold blue eye was watching them, the other hidden from view. Kíli ground his teeth.

"I'll be back later," he said. "Mister Dwalin, do you need someone to take your place?"

"I'll stay a while longer," Dwalin said. "Send for someone in a couple hours."

"All right," Kíli said. With that, he dashed outside; however, he did not make it far. As soon as he was out of sight, he stumbled aside and slammed into the wall, covering his eyes with one hand and letting out a sudden sob. His other hand joined the first, and he sank to the ground as he began to weep.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry, Fíli."

Knock knock.

The door before Kíli swung open after a few moments, and the dwarf on the other side grinned widely upon seeing his young friend, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Bofur," Kíli said, unable to return the smile.

The light faded from Bofur's face as he regarded the look on Kíli's face, and he furrowed his brow.

"Come in, lad," he said seriously. Kíli nodded and stepped inside, his mouth watering instantly at the smell of Bombur's cooking, and he sank into a chair at the kitchen table. He rested his head in his hands, overcome with weariness, and closed his eyes for a moment—or what he thought was a moment—until a hand latched onto his shoulder and shook him hard.

"Kíli, lad, when is the last time you slept?" said Bofur.

Kíli blinked slowly and looked up at his fair-tempered friend, whose visage was unnaturally creased with worry. He offered a half-hearted smile.

"Couldn't sleep last night," he said. "I'm all right."

Bofur raised an eyebrow, but made no further comment. Instead, he made his way over to the stove and poured a cup of coffee and set it before Kíli.

"Bombur just made it," he said. "Looks like you need it more than I do."

"Thanks," Kíli said. He took a gulp and sighed, enjoying the strong taste characteristic of anything made by Bombur's hands. He looked around. "Where is he, anyway?"

Bofur chuckled. "The pantry, most likely."

Kíli let out a huff of a laugh at that. The pantry, indeed. Where else would he be? Bofur sat down at the table and studied Kíli's face.

"What's wrong, lad?"

Kíli traced the rim of his mug with his middle finger in silence. He had come to Bofur for help, but now that he was here, he didn't know how to start, or how to get the information he sought without alluding to Fíli's situation. Bofur was a friend, but he was not kin, nor any kind of ranking official.

"This is about Fíli, isn't it?"

Kíli's head snapped up, his eyes wide, before he could plan a less telling reaction.

"What?" he croaked.

"I saw them carry him in to the jail," Bofur said gently.

Kíli's eyes grew even wider, and his heart began to thump harder. Bofur had seen? Who else had witnessed Fíli's compromised state? Was their secret out?

"Relax, Kíli," Bofur said. "I haven't told anyone."

"Bombur?" Kíli said as the large, red-haired dwarf entered the kitchen, munching.

"Aye, he was with me," Bofur said. "But-"

"Please, Bofur—you have to keep this a secret," Kíli pleaded. "And you, Bombur."

"We wouldn't tell a soul, lad," said Bofur. "We may not be kin, but we are loyal to your uncle and to your family. Thorin has made a good life for us here. We would not cross him."

Kíli relaxed and leaned back in his seat. Of course Bofur and Bombur wouldn't tell. They were old friends, and good dwarves.

"But—Kíli. Tell us what's happened," Bofur said. Bombur sat beside him, silent as usual as he ate, his eyes lit with compassion and curiosity.

Kíli, reasoning that more information couldn't hurt at this point, launched into the full story, from his near-drowning to the conversation with his brother from which he had just come. Bofur and Bombur listened intently, their faces growing more and more distressed as Kíli spoke. When he had finished, took in a shuddering breath and was silent. After several long moments, Bofur spoke.

"Blimey, lad," he said.

"I came to you for help," Kíli said. "I know that some don't put stock in it, but… I think some kind of pixie or faerie or… something… has done this to my brother. You have both told me stories about the fey, and I wondered if you knew of any where a fey's mischief was reversed."

Bofur and Bombur exchanged glances; Bombur shrugged, and Bofur looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought.

"I don't think I've heard of any," he said finally. "But these pixies and such—they do things just for fun. Maybe you could just ask it to change him back. It might consider that a good laugh."

Kíli's lips twisted. It was not the answer that he wanted, but it was a reasonable suggestion. At least the two brothers had taken him seriously.

"I don't know where it is—or even what it is," he said. "Or—really, I don't even know if I'm right. But I have an idea that I can start with."

"It's worth a try," said Bombur. "I'd try anything for Bofur."

Bofur smiled, his eyes twinkling as he looked at his younger brother. Kíli felt a surge of jealousy as Bofur patted Bombur's shoulder affectionately, and he became keenly aware once again of the ache in his heart. If Bombur, bumbling as he was, would fight for his brother, Kíli would fight all the more. He would do anything to get Fíli back.

"Promise me one thing, though, lad," said Bofur, suddenly serious again.

Kíli met his gaze. "What's that?" he said.

"If you go off anywhere to face fickle creatures, don't go alone," Bofur said. "Take someone with you. It would be no good to lose both our princes."

"I won't," Kíli promised. "And I'll be careful."

Bofur grinned at that. "As careful as a son of Dís ever would be, eh?"

Kíli chuckled sheepishly, taking the jab with grace. He was used to such teasing, especially from Bofur, but he knew that beneath the joke, his friend was deadly serious. He would heed his advice.

"Thank you," Kíli said, rising to his feet. "Thank you both."

"Where are you going already?" Bofur said, dismayed. "Stay a while! You need rest!"

"And food," Bombur added.

"I've got to save Fíli," Kíli said. "Sooner rather than later."

"But you're exhausted!" Bofur protested. "Kíli, be sensible, lad."

"This is too important to wait," said Kíli. "I won't go alone. You have my word."

Bofur hurried around the small table and grabbed Kíli's wrist, his eyes pleading.

"Kíli. You need rest."

Kíli looked down at Bofur's hand, irritation itching in his abdomen; the elder dwarf let go, and Kíli straightened and looked him straight in the eye.

"I'll rest when I have Fíli back," he said. Then he turned and left the small house, ignoring the stricken faces of his friends.