Kíli stood outside the door, his heart pounding ferociously. Don't give up now, he told himself. His fingers gripped the bag in his hand so tightly that his knuckles were turning white; but he would not give in. He couldn't—not now. He had to do this.

This is a terrible idea.

Slowly, Kíli set down his burdens next to the doorframe and slipped two small things in his pocket with trembling fingers. His heart felt like it was about to leap out of his chest, but a fierce determination kept him from turning and fleeing immediately. This is my only choice, he told himself for what felt like the hundredth time. If this doesn't work, what else will?

Kíli blinked several times rapidly and took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He reached a hand back into his pocket and fingered the items sitting within; then, with one more deep breath, he opened the door and peered inside.

"Who's there?" called a voice from within.

No. Not him. Anyone but him. Why did it have to be him?

Immediately Kíli wanted to completely abandon his plan and run, but he straightened and stepped through the doorway, forcing his expression to be blank. He stepped into the light of the room at what he hoped was a normal pace.

"Kíli, why are you here?" said Thorin, standing to his feet. "I have told you that you should not be here."

"I checked in the window first," Kíli said. "He's asleep. I wanted to see him."

Thorin sat back down with a sigh and glanced at his elder nephew's sleeping frame. "You shouldn't be here," he repeated.

"But Uncle—"

"But you can stay for now," Thorin continued, his eyes flicking up to Kíli's face. "But if he awakes, please listen to what I say and go home."

Kíli swallowed. "Aye," he agreed, his voice cracking. Thorin raised an eyebrow, and he cleared his throat and tried again. "Aye, I'll leave when he wakes," he said with a stronger voice.

"Good," said Thorin, and he looked Kíli over with concern. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," said Kíli. He walked closer and stood behind his uncle, watching Fíli sleep. "I just—I just haven't seen him since…" he stopped and sighed softly. "How is he?"

"He's been quiet," Thorin said. "I spoke to Óin earlier. He hasn't said a word to anyone since the incident."

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing," said Thorin. "Óin tried to get a word out of him, but all he would do was nod or shake his head."

Kíli thought back to earlier in the day. So that's what he had been doing.

"Maybe I could—"

"No." Thorin turned to look back at Kíli. "I know this is difficult for you, but you have to try to understand, my boy. I have told you many times—I am trying to keep you safe as well as your brother. I do not want him to hurt you."

"He can't hurt me, Uncle! He's behind bars!" Kíli argued, throwing his hand out towards his brother. "What is he going to do to me from there?"

"Are you telling me that his words have had no effect on you?" said Thorin gently. "Because we both know that is not true."

Kíli crossed his arms and stepped backward, leaning against the wall. Thorin had a point, but not one that he was willing to accept. Thorin turned back to look at Fíli; for several minutes, neither Dwarf said anything. The only sound was Fíli's deep breathing as he slumbered.

"Uncle?" said Kíli finally.

Thorin turned his head to the side.

"Would you really not take Fíli anywhere if there was someone who could help?" he said.

Thorin sighed. "Kíli, I gave you my reasons," he said. "It would be too dangerous. If there is nothing else to be done, perhaps we could try something—but at this point… I want to see what else we could do."

"But what if I had an idea?" Kíli said. His heart leapt in his chest. Maybe Thorin would agree with him. He had to try.

But his hopes were dashed. "No," said Thorin immediately. "Not yet. We try other things first. Then we try rasher options."

"But what if—"

"That is my final say on the matter," said Thorin. He held up a hand to silence his nephew and shook his head. "I will let you know how things go. He isn't going anywhere, Kíli. He will be fine here."

"But he won't," Kíli muttered. So he was on his own, then. He would have to carry through as planned… he felt his stomach contract as anxiety overtook him momentarily. I don't want to do this. I have to do this. He was torn and yet resolute. He knew what he had to do—for Fíli.

He waited quietly. Minutes passed in silence; Thorin pulled out his pipe, packed it, and lit it, and Kíli watched him relax, his stomach twisted in knots. His fingers slipped into his pocket, and he impatiently fiddled with the items sitting there. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and reached into another, pulling out his own pipe. Maybe smoking would relax him. He lit his pipe and leaned against the wall, watching Fíli carefully.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time Fíli finally stirred. Kíli pushed himself up off the wall immediately and put out his pipe, watching his brother with a pounding heart. Now, he told himself, but he couldn't move. Now, you fool!

"Kíli," said Thorin, but he did not turn around. Finding the ability to move again, Kíli pulled out two things from his pocket, his fingers fumbling with the lid of the small bottle in his hand. Finally he got it open just as Thorin said his name again.

"You need to go," Thorin said as Fíli lifted his head.

I can't do this. I have to do this.

"I'm—I'm sorry, Uncle," Kíli said with a cracking voice.

"What are you ta—"

Before Thorin could finish his sentence, Kíli sprang forward and slapped a rag over his uncle's nose and mouth. For a moment Thorin tried to turn his head, but Kíli held fast. A muffled cry that sounded vaguely like Kíli came from beneath the rag, and tears sprang to Kíli's eyes as he felt the cold sting of his own betrayal washing over him. Still he held the rag over his uncle's face, and then Thorin's eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped. Kíli guided him carefully to the floor and stood over him, shaking; for a moment, his vision blurred, and he had to force himself to breathe.

"I'm sorry—I'm so sorry, Uncle," he panted. "I'm so sorry."

He had no time to lose. He shook his head, and his vision cleared; then he bent down and pulled the key ring from Thorin's belt and ran to the cell door.

"Fíli, get up," he said urgently. Fíli stared at him curiously, his brow furrowed. "If you want to leave, you have to come with me. Now."

"Isn't that your uncle?" said Fíli, nodding at Thorin's unconscious frame.

"Yes, and I have just betrayed him. For you. So get up. We're leaving." Kíli unlocked the door with shaking hands and swung it open. Fíli stood up, staring hard at his brother.

"I have supplies outside," Kíli said. "I'm taking you to someone who can help."

"What makes you think I'll go with you?" said Fíli.

"Please, don't argue with me—just come," said Kíli. He tugged on Fíli's arm, but the blond yanked his arm out of his brother's reach with wide eyes.

"Fíli, we don't have much time," Kíli said, glancing back at his unconscious uncle. When he looked back, Fíli had stepped far back into the cell, shaking his head.

"I don't trust you," he said. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"I thought you wanted to escape!" Kíli said with a wavering voice, trying to push down the hurt of that statement. I don't trust you. "I'm giving you what you want. Now, let's go."

"Not with you!" Fíli cried, his eyes wild with fear.

Kíli stared at Fíli in utter shock. Before, he had seen Fíli as angry—yes, Thorin and Dís had said that he was frightened, but when it came to Kíli, all he had seen was irrational hatred, not this terror that shone in his eyes now. Suddenly Fíli seemed small, smaller than Kíli ever remembered seeing him before. He knew in his head that he was taller than Fíli—he had been since they were in their twenties—but Fíli had always seemed so big in his eyes. He had never thought much about it, but now it felt as if the world had gone askew. Fíli is afraid of me.

He didn't have time for this. With a sigh that almost turned to a sob, Kíli reached into his coat and pulled out a blade—one of Fíli's. He pointed it towards his brother; the tip wavered, but Kíli's glare was fierce.

"You're coming with me because you don't have another choice," he said roughly. "You come with me, and if this doesn't work, you can go wherever you please. You have my word. But for now, you're stuck with me, whether you want it or not. Now get a move on. He'll wake in just a minute or two."

Fíli eyed the blade warily and seemed to shrink even further into the wall, and Kíli groaned inwardly. As if this would help him gain his brother's trust… but it was a precaution that he knew he had to take. He had no intention of being attacked again. He flicked the blade to the side, gesturing for Fíli to follow, and his brother reluctantly stepped out of the jail cell and towards the door.

"Don't try to run," Kíli said. "I have impeccable aim. I promise you that."

Fíli attempted to put on a calm façade, but now Kíli could see right through it. His heart throbbed, but he held his ground and moved forward with his plan. He had gotten this far—he couldn't stop now. He left the keys in the cell door and stepped past his brother to lead the way.

Then he heard a groan behind him.

For a moment, the world went white as Kíli panicked. "No," he whispered. His heart began to pound even harder than before, so hard that it hurt. He looked back at Thorin, who had just begun to stir. Kíli grabbed Fíli's arm and pulled him along.

"Go!" he hissed. "We need to leave now."

"Ki-li," Thorin mumbled, and a glint of blue became visible beneath his eyelids. Kíli ran for the door, dragging Fíli behind him, desperately trying to ignore his uncle as his heart began to shatter.

What have you done?

"He won't be able to move yet," Kíli said in a loud whisper. His voice shook, and he swallowed. "Get outside. We only have a few minutes."

Wordlessly, Fíli followed his brother's lead, and they rushed outside as quickly as possible. Kíli picked up the pack he had left by the door and tossed it to him.

"Take this," he said. "There are some clothes and some food and a few other things in there. I packed it for you."

"Any weapons?" Fíli said, slipping the pack on his back.

"I'm not stupid, despite what you may think," Kíli snapped. "Now, let's go."

"Why are you doing this?" said Fíli.

"I'll explain later," he said. "Let's go! And don't run away. I've got more than just a knife." He nodded to the bow that he had just put on his back.

Fíli scowled, but when Kíli ran, he followed.

They had been gone for hours, and in all that time, neither brother had spoken.

The longer Kíli rode on, the more he regretted his decision. What were you thinking? he scolded himself. You should have told him. You should have just asked.

He would have said no, he thought then. He would have told me to wait. I can't wait. I need him back.

Kíli looked back at Fíli, who was riding his pony with an uncomfortable expression, his eyes darting to and fro, as if he were expecting someone to come from the trees and attack him. His gaze turned to Kíli, and the brunet looked away suddenly.

"It's later," Fíli said. "Can you explain now?"

"We're still too close," Kíli said. "We need to make good time and get as far away as possible."

"I'm not going further until I know what's going on," said Fíli. Kíli looked back again; Fíli had stopped his pony and sat there, his gaze icy. Kíli looked beyond him towards home, but it was far out of sight. They had time. He sighed.

"All right," he said, riding back towards his brother. "I've heard tell of a person who may be able to help you. His name is Tom Bombadil, and we are going to find him and ask for his help."

"I don't need your help," said Fíli obstinately. "I don't need anyone's help. I just need to get—I just need to… to be on my own."

"That's not true," said Kíli softly. "You can pretend, Fíli, but I have the advantage here—I know you already. You may not remember me, but I have known you my entire life, and I can tell you… I know you're frightened."

Fíli's eyes widened, and he looked away and set his jaw.

"You're lying," he said, but his voice was weak. "You don't know what you are talking about."

"It's dark, isn't it?" Kíli said with a stroke of inspiration.

Fíli looked back up at him. "What do you mean?" he said.

"In your mind," said Kíli. "I know, because I've felt it. It's dark in your mind. You keep reaching out, trying to figure out what happened to you, who you are, what's going on, but there's nothing. Every turn is a thick, dark wall that terrifies you more than you can say and you just want to shy away and find somewhere to turn, but there is nowhere to turn. You're caught—you're stuck. And you don't know what you can do to make it stop."

Fíli's eyes glittered as he stared at his brother in utter shock. "How did you—"

"It attacked me, Fíli," he said. "The same thing that got you. I went looking for it, and it got me. Not as badly as it got you, but I felt that fear. I felt that darkness. I know you are frightened, Fíli, and you are confused, but I am only doing this because I think it will help you. Please believe me."

Fíli stared at his brother with a curious expression, but he did not yield. His eyes strayed to the bow on Kíli's back, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

"I don't have to believe you," he said then. "But if you give me your word—when this is over, you'll let me be—then I won't run."

Kíli's heart ached once again, but he nodded. "Good," he said. "Now, let's keep moving. I want to get the town far behind us by nightfall. If we're quick, we can make it halfway to the Lune before we make camp."

Fíli nodded, and once again, the two started off, but the ache did not leave Kíli's chest.

"So tomorrow, we'll camp on the banks of the Lune, if we've gone far enough," Kíli said, pointing at the map of the western lands of Middle-Earth. Fíli looked on, his body rigid, but his eyes curious. "Then in the light of the morning we can cross. And no funny business from you." He pointed a finger at Fíli, scowling as the blond unsuccessfully attempted to hold back a grin. "It's not funny."

"Of course not," said Fíli lightly. Kíli's stomach burned with frustration, and he blinked quickly. Fíli would never make light of trying to kill him. Who was this stranger beside him?

"A-anyway," he said. "After that, we'll go just south of the Hills of Evendim. I want to avoid the Shire completely—Hobbits are talkative folk, and I want to keep quiet. If anyone is on our trail, they'll certainly ask there, and we don't want them knowing where we've gone. Then we'll cross the Brandywine and head south." He pointed to a dark spot on the border of Buckland. "This is where we're going."

"The Old Forest," Fíli read from the map. "What's in the Old Forest?"

"An old fellow—not a Dwarf, nor a Man, and certainly not an Elf," said Kíli. "I've heard that he may be able to help with what has happened to you."

"But what is he?" said Fíli, turning sharp eyes onto his brother.

"I-I don't rightly know," Kíli admitted. "I just know he might be able to help, and that he won't harm us."

Fíli looked at him incredulously. "You are putting your trust in a… a creature, someone you have never met and you don't know anything about?"

Kíli blinked. For a moment, Fíli had sounded so much like his old self that Kíli almost forgot circumstances of their trek. He was always the voice of reason when the younger had rash and wild ideas.

"It's my only chance," he muttered, folding up the map and putting it back in his pack. "I have to do what I can."

Fíli scoffed, and his voice once again took a cruel edge. "You really have no idea what you're doing, do you?" he said. "You never have any idea what you're doing."

"Shut up!" Kíli snapped. "I know what I'm doing."

Fíli merely chuckled and shook his head, a dark gleam playing in his eyes. He pulled his pack over and searched through it; his hands stopped moving, and he glanced over at Kíli again.

"There's a pipe in here," he said, pulling it out reverently.

"It's your pipe," said Kíli, feeling self-conscious. "I thought you'd like to have it."

Fíli ran his fingers over the carvings in the wood, admiring the handiwork. He held it closer to the fire to get a better look.

"It's beautiful," he said. He reached into the bag again and pulled out a pouch of pipe-weed, running his thumb over the soft leather. "Thank you."

"Y-you're welcome," Kíli mumbled. He tried to keep himself from gaining hope, but a warmth spread in his chest, and he felt his shoulders drop just a little. Fíli stared at the pouch for a long moment; then, he seemed to remember his previous attitude, and his eyes flicked up to Kíli's face, unnaturally dark as they had been lately. He stood and carried his pack to the other side of the fire, avoiding his brother's gaze.

Kíli watched Fíli unroll his bedding and lay down; as always, Fíli lay on his stomach. His messy hair went every which direction, covering his face, and Kíli looked down at the fire. Some kind of animal made a sound far off; then the only sound was the crackling of the fire. For a long time, Kíli merely sat, lost in thought, wishing he could talk to Fíli about all of the things on his mind, but he kept quiet, knowing that he would receive only mockery in return.

Please let this work, he prayed. I need him back. You know I need him back.

Fíli sighed and turned his head, and Kíli froze. Still awake, then—he never moved in his sleep. Kíli wondered what he was thinking about, but thought better than to ask him about it. Instead, he wrapped his arms around himself and looked around, keeping an eye out for anything unwholesome that may be near. This was not a common road; usually, when heading east, the Dwarves took the road through the Shire, though the Hobbits were generally unhappy about their presence. It was a quick road and a safe road, and not one that Kíli was willing to take. That well-known path lay south of them, and Kíli knew that had he taken it, his kin could find him easily. No—they had to stay far from anywhere they might be expected to go.

Kíli yawned and shook his head. No, he told himself. Stay awake. He didn't trust Fíli not to run away or kill him in his sleep… he would find rest somehow along this journey. Maybe once he falls asleep. In the meantime, though, he would keep watch. Maybe if Fíli could prove himself to be trustworthy—very unlikely, but Kíli clung to hope—he could keep watch, too. Or maybe, if they made good time, Kíli could rest when they arrived at Tom Bombadil's house, wherever that happened to be.

His thoughts turned to home, and he thought of his uncle. His eyes squeezed shut involuntarily, and he cringed. What have I done? he thought, he pain of his betrayal radiating through his being. He could not even bear to think what Thorin would think of him—and his mother. He covered his mouth with his hand as a small, distressed sound made its way out. She would be hurt, so hurt, and so worried about them both. What would they do when Fíli and Kíli had been gone for too long? Would they keep looking? Would they give up? Would they assume that they were dead?

The pain of his thoughts was too much, and Kíli shook his head violently, forcing them away. No—he had to do this. No one was getting anything done, and Fíli was hanging in the balance. Fíli was more important than his reputation or even the disapproval of his family, and when he came back, they would see that he was just fine—he was a capable warrior and certainly responsible enough to be gone for a few weeks, and they would not worry about him again.

He just hoped that, given what he had done, this would all prove to be worth it in the end.