For a long minute, all Kíli could do was panic.

Where could he have gone? he thought. Why would he leave? Why would he do this?

Kíli's thoughts turned to Thorin then; his lip curled and his hands began to shake. Thorin. If the old mule had just accepted Fíli back… that had to be it. Fíli had run off before because he thought that he was unwanted, and it had been Thorin's fault that time, too—Kíli remembered it well. Thorin had ripped him out of the room and slammed him against the wall by his throat, shouting at him and then leaving him, sick and alone, on the floor. Kíli's vision was going red. Thorin had done it again… before he could even think, Kíli was on his feet and running down the hall to his uncle's bedroom. He slammed Thorin's door open, startling his uncle out of his sleep. Kíli dove at him and grabbed hold of the front of his tunic.

"This is all your fault!" he shouted hoarsely, shaking Thorin violently. Finally Thorin had his senses about him enough to defend himself, but Kíli was relentless. He pulled his arms out of Thorin's grip and swung out with a clenched fist, making contact with Thorin's cheekbone. Thorin shouted out in surprise and pain and struggled to pull himself out of bed, blocking his face with one arm as Kíli swung again.

"Kíli, stop!" Thorin cried.

"It's your fault!" Kíli said again. "Fíli holds you in highest honor, with greatest respect—he is more loyal to you than anyone else and you treat him like a criminal, like an outcast! How dare you! What kind of leader are you that you would forsake your own kin?"

Suddenly, arms wrapped around Kíli's middle. They pulled him away from Thorin and sent him flying across the room; he hit the wall with a thud and cried out, looking for his attacker. Dís stood between him and Thorin, her arms outstretched defensively. Boiling with wrath, Kíli yelled and charged, attempting to bypass Dís, but she caught him and threw him back again.

"Enough, Kíli!" she shouted. "What in the name of all the Valar has gotten into you? How dare you treat my brother in such a way?"

"He isn't worthy to be called kin!" Kíli spat. He jabbed a finger in Thorin's direction. "He forsakes those who are most loyal to him when he should forgive! He rejected Fíli when he should have accepted him! I will not claim kinship—I will not even say the name of one who treats my brother such!"

Kíli bent over, breathing hard; his breath was coming with great difficulty now, and he felt dizzy. His knees wobbled and gave way, but Dís caught him before he hit the ground.

"Kíli—Kíli! Are you all right?" she said, her voice fraught with worry.

"Fíli's gone," Kíli gasped. "He ran off. He ran off again. And it's his fault!" Kíli looked up at Thorin with a hateful glare; his uncle's eyes were wide.

"What?" Thorin said.

"He's gone!" Kíli said hoarsely. "He… he must have left in the night—I couldn't find him anywhere…" He trailed off, wheezing; Dís held him upright as he struggled to regain his breath. He heard Fíli's voice in his head. You're panicking, little brother. Breathe in, Kíli. He drew in a difficult breath, letting it out slowly, and then drew in another. Still not quite right, but good enough. He pulled himself unsteadily to his feet.

"Kíli," said Thorin, his voice barely more than a whisper, "where did he go?"

"I don't know," Kíli said, still gasping. "I have no idea."

Thorin and Dís looked at each other, speaking silently with their eyes; Kíli glanced back and forth between them, leaning against his mother heavily. Then Thorin looked at Kíli.

"I won't lose him again," he said heavily. His blue eyes bored into Kíli. "I can't. You're right, Kíli—he is my kin. And I will not let him believe I do not want him."

Kíli stared at Thorin, breathing carefully. He felt the hot anger inside him draining away, leaving him cold and shaking, and he swallowed.

"Thank you," he said.

Thorin nodded seriously and looked at Dís.

"Arrange a search party," he said. "Groups of two in every direction. We will gather here in half an hour."

Dís nodded and let Kíli go, quickly leaving the room. Thorin started to change, ripping clothes from drawers and throwing them on as fast as possible.

"Go get ready, Kíli," he said. "We're going to find your brother."

In half an hour, all those that Dís could find had been rallied—twelve dwarves in all. They stood in a small circle outside the front door, waiting for Thorin's instructions.

"We do not know where Fíli has gone and we have no clue to start on," Thorin said seriously, taking a cursory look at the group around him. "We will split into six groups. Balin and Dwalin—head south. Óin, Glóin—you'll head west. Bofur, Bombur—start east, along the established road. Dís and I will go north, and Dori and Ori, you stay in the area and see if anyone has seen or heard anything."

"What about Gimli and I?" said Kíli.

"You remember the route you took when you ran off?" Thorin said. Kíli shrank a little but nodded. "Start along that way, then." He looked out at the group. "We will regroup here at sunset if we have found nothing. Do not harm him if you find him—he is unlikely to be violent. Only split up if you have found Fíli and he refuses to come home. In that case, one of you stay with him—do not leave him on his own—and the other come find either me and Dís or Kíli and Gimli. Is that understood?"

A chorus of ayes sounded from the circle, and dwarves began heading off in every direction. Kíli and Gimli exchanged glances and headed northeast.

"I thought he'd make you stay with him," Gimli said. "After all that's happened."

"I think he's still angry with me," Kíli replied. "Probably more so now. We argued yesterday."

"Argued or fought?" said Gimli, casting a glance at his cousin. "There's a nice developing bruise on his face, there."

"Well, that was just within the past hour, actually," said Kíli sheepishly. "I… didn't take well to finding Fíli gone. I blamed Thorin."

"Why?"

"Because it's his fault," said Kíli crossly. "He hasn't said a single word to Fíli since we returned—hasn't even looked at him, really. I'm sure Fíli ran off because he thinks Thorin will never forgive him." He lowered his voice and looked at the ground. "He was afraid of that, Gimli. Really afraid. I've never seen him act the way he has lately."

"Well, Thorin is looking for him now," said Gimli. "That has to say something."

"If we find him," Kíli mumbled. "Honestly, I'm surprised he was so quick to set up a search party."

"Well, given what's happened in the past, I think he learned his lesson," said Gimli.

Kíli blinked. He had not thought of that—Thorin actually listening to him for once. As much as he was angry with Thorin, he had to give him credit for stepping into action so quickly. It was certainly a welcome change in behavior.

"Well, let's speed up," he said, brushing the topic aside. "We don't know how long he's been gone, and I want to cover as much ground as possible if we have to meet back home by sunset. There's no knowing where he could be."

"If he came this way at all," said Gimli, matching Kíli's pace.

"Well, we have to try," Kíli said. "Come on."

The day's search had proved fruitless for all, it seemed; no one had seen or heard anything of Fíli from any direction. He had simply disappeared.

"We have to keep searching," Kíli said to Thorin desperately as the other dwarves began heading for home. "Thorin, please."

"I know, Kíli," said Thorin, nodding to Óin and Glóin as they left with Gimli. "I don't plan to stop searching, but I cannot ask the same of everyone else."

"Why not?" Kíli demanded. "You're their king!"

"And they are my kin, not my slaves, Kíli," said Thorin. "Balin, Dwalin, and Bofur have volunteered to continue the search into the night. We will keep looking—I promise."

"I'll help, too," said Kíli.

"No," Thorin said quickly. "No, you are to go home and rest."

Kíli furrowed his brow. "No, I'm going to help," he said adamantly. "Just put me with someone—"

"You could barely breathe this morning, Kíli," said Thorin firmly. "Now is not the time to make yourself ill." He took hold of Kíli's shoulders and looked into his eyes. "Go rest, Kíli. You can rejoin us in the morning."

"I can't just give up on him!" Kíli said, his voice cracking as he ripped himself out of Thorin's grip. "I can't just go home and go to sleep—"

"And if Fíli decides to come home, someone should be here for him, don't you think?" said Thorin. He nodded to someone behind his nephew; Kíli turned around to see Dís coming towards him with outstretched arms. So he wasn't to be given a choice in this matter. He could feel a lump developing in his throat.

"Please, Uncle—let me join you," he whispered as Dís's hands closed on his arms and began to pull him towards the house.

"Go inside, Kíli," said Thorin.

Kíli bowed his head and let his hair fall over his eyes as he reluctantly allowed Dís to take him away. He felt defeated. The lump in his throat grew larger, and he fought hard against the growing tears in his eyes.

"Maybe he'll come home tonight, my love," said Dís softly as she led him in. "Or maybe they'll find him. Do not despair."

Kíli nodded and said nothing. When they had made it inside, Kíli trudged off to his room alone and shut the door quietly behind him. He sat heavily on the bed and sighed, looking up at the ceiling to keep the tears from falling.

"Fíli, please come home," he said.

Somehow, Kíli managed to sleep that night, but the morning did not bring him the news he desired. Fíli was still missing. The weather seemed to match Kíli's gloomy mood; dark clouds had moved in during the night, casting the mountains into darkness. A warm, wet wind blew, signaling a violent thunderstorm was on its way. Some of the other dwarves had agreed to search again despite the weather; Balin and Dwalin were relentless, and Glóin, Óin, and Gimli had returned for another day, eager to help. Balin and Dwalin returned south, but Thorin sent Óin and Glóin east. He and Dís agreed to go north again, leaving the west and local areas for Kíli and Gimli. They set out quickly, eager to cover more ground than the previous day.

The first half of the day was fruitless, and Kíli began to despair. Where could Fíli have gone? Kíli could not think of anywhere his brother would go—no one he would go to see. As far as he could tell, Fíli had avoided seeing anyone, which meant that he wanted to be alone.

Kíli and Gimli ate lunch under a large willow and discussed further plans.

"Where didn't we look yesterday?" Kíli said.

"We were in the east yesterday," said Gimli. "We haven't looked anywhere around here."

"I wonder why Thorin sent us this way today," said Kíli. "We could have continued that way…"

"I think he was trying to keep us closer to home," Gimli replied. "We could go forever east. Unless we go over the mountains, we can only go so far west."

"The only things west of here are tombs," said Kíli, gesturing towards the mountains. "There aren't many places to hide this way."

"Nevertheless, we should check again. He might not have been there yesterday, but that doesn't mean he's not there today."

"You're right," said Kíli, rising and dusting crumbs off his trousers. "Let's get a move on, then—the sooner we get there, the longer we can look."

The two cousins set off together towards the tombs in the mountains. On the way there, the dark clouds above finally burst, releasing torrents of rain; neither Kíli nor Gimli was deterred, however, and they continued on towards the base of the mountain.

The dwarves of the Blue Mountains had chiseled the final resting places out of the rock itself; contained among the mountains west of the several dwarf villages were hundreds of these carefully crafted compartments, each filled with the body of a loved one and a plaque placed over the opening. There was no greater honor in death than being able to return their bodies to the stone from which their maker had crafted them. Some dwarves had more elaborate tombs than others. The commoners had simple graves with simple plaques made of stone, while wealthier and nobler families had plaques made of gold or silver or other precious metals and inlaid with gems of all shapes and sizes. Whatever the graves were made of, they stretched along the mountain for at least a mile in each direction—the settlement in the Blue Mountains was over a hundred and fifty years old, and in that time, many dwarves had been laid to rest, including Kíli's own father, Jóli. Unlike the other dwarves, Jóli had a large, elaborate tomb all to himself as one of the royal family. Also unlike the others, Jóli's tomb was not permanently sealed; when Erebor was reclaimed, his body would be moved to the royal tombs of his birthplace. Only the royal family was afforded this honor.

Kíli and Gimli arrived roughly in the middle of the long line of tombs and headed south, calling Fíli's name all the while, though their voices could barely be heard over the din of the rain and the constant rumblings of thunder. Even so, Kíli felt slightly disrespectful shouting in a place to honor the dead, but he brushed aside his inhibitions in his need to find his brother.

"Where is your father's tomb?" Gimli asked. "If Fíli would be anywhere, it would be there, right?"

"That's assuming that he has a plan," said Kíli. "I don't think he does, Gimli."

Still, the idea was better than nothing. They continued south; the further they got, the more elaborate the tombs became. Jóli's was near the end, laid out in splendor befitting one of the royal family; instead of a simple plaque, a doorway had been carved out of the mountain, complete with a portico at the entrance. Kíli kept an eye out for the tomb; he did not visit here often, and in the heavy rain, the stone entrance would be hard to spot. Finally they were almost there, and Kíli raised his hand to his brow, shielding his eyes from the rain.

"I don't see anything," he said to Gimli.

"Well, let's be certain about it," Gimli replied. Kíli nodded and moved closer to the tomb, searching all around the area and still seeing nothing.

Then, as he rounded a corner, he saw him.

"Fíli," Kíli whispered. He grabbed hold of Gimli's arm. "Gimli, that's Fíli. I'll go to him. Go get Thorin and my mum."

Wide-eyed, Gimli nodded and immediately ran off; Kíli ran towards the tomb, his approaching footsteps lost in the sound of rain. Fíli was sitting on the steps, safe from the rain under the portico. He was leaning against the door with one shoulder, his temples resting against the stone. Kíli leapt up the steps and knelt in front of him.

"Fíli," he said, placing a hand on his brother's knee. Fíli did not move. His eyes were open, but they stared out into nothing; their color seemed dull. For a moment, Kíli panicked—He's dead. I'm too late. He shook Fíli's leg violently, and much to his relief, Fíli slowly raised his eyes to meet his little brother's. Kíli's heart jumped at the look in his brother's eyes. They looked so lifeless—like Fíli had been completely drained of all spirit. He frowned.

"By the Smith, Fíli, have you been here the whole time?" he said.

Fíli lowered his gaze and shook his head. "No," he said. "Wandered around a bit… didn't know where to go."

"We've been looking for you since yesterday morning," Kíli said. "You can't just disappear like that—not after all that has happened. What were you thinking?"

Fíli ignored his question and looked at the stone door he leaned against.

"Do you think Da would have forgiven me?" he said.

Kíli blinked and furrowed his brow. "I… I don't know," he said. "I never knew him, Fíli… you know that."

"But do you think he would?" Fíli said.

Kíli stared at Fíli and sighed. How could he possibly answer such a question? He thought hard, searching his mind for any information he knew about their father.

"Mum said that he was better than those of the royal line," he said. "That he didn't have the vices that we have. She said he was selfless. I think he would have forgiven you, Fíli."

This did not seem to comfort Fíli at all. His chin wobbled, and he closed his eyes.

"But he's not here," he said tearfully. "Thorin is. And he'll never forgive me."

"Of course he will," Kíli said. "You'll see. But you have to come home. You can't run off like this."

"No," said Fíli fervidly, shaking his head. "No, I can't come home. No one wants me there—I don't deserve to be part of the family anymore… you're better off without me."

"That is ridiculous," said Kíli. "Of course we want you home. Do you think I risked everything—betrayed Uncle's trust—because I don't want you around? Fíli, there is no one in the world more important to me than you. I don't care what Thorin thinks. You belong home."

"I care what Thorin thinks," Fíli said. "If he doesn't want me, what use am I, Kíli? I've betrayed my king. I deserve exile."

"You deserve nothing of the sort," Kíli said vehemently. "Now, stop this. We'll talk to Thorin together… we'll get this whole mess sorted. You'll see. It'll be fine."

"I wish I could believe you," Fíli whispered. He looked down at his knees. "But I saw the look in Thorin's eyes when he saw me."

Kíli pressed his lips together and looked out into the pouring rain. Gimli would be coming back with Thorin and Dís, but it could be hours before he found them and brought them back. He wanted to tell Fíli that their uncle was on his way, but he was afraid that Fíli would try to run again. It was better to let Thorin do the talking for himself.

"Well, if you don't want to go back, then I'll just sit here with you for a while," he said, pressing his back against the stone door.

"No, Kíli—go home," Fíli said. "You don't need to be here. I just want to be alone."

"No, you don't," said Kíli.

Fíli did not respond. He simply closed his eyes and bowed his head. Kíli made himself comfortable and sat quietly. If Fíli wanted to talk, he would talk—until then, Kíli would wait. At least the portico sheltered them from the rain.

Minutes passed. Neither dwarf said anything; in fact, Kíli was starting to think that Fíli had fallen asleep. He counted the time between the lightning and thunder; the storm was moving away, it seemed. He cleaned his fingernails. He wondered how much time had passed and if Gimli and Thorin were on their way.

"Kíli?"

Kíli looked up. "What?"

"I didn't mean to frighten you," said Fíli. "I'm sorry."

"I'm just happy to see that you're all right, Fee," Kíli replied. "Don't worry about it. All is forgiven."

Fíli nodded and drew his knees up to his chest, resting his chin in the gap between his kneecaps. He wrapped his arms around his legs and stared off into the distance beyond Kíli.

"I thought about coming back," he said. "But I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"I thought everyone would be angry with me," Fíli said, his voice wobbling. "Because I ran away again. I knew you and Mum would be worried, but I…" He sniffed. "I thought that if I just left, Thorin wouldn't have to bother disowning me. I'd just be gone. He would never have to see me or mention me again."

"Fíli, Thorin isn't going to disown you," Kíli said.

"How do you know?" Fíli said.

Kíli looked out into the rain. "I just do."

Fíli sighed and tucked his chin into his chest, pressing his nose against his knees. Kíli reached out and patted his shoulder reassuringly, searching for any indication of shapes in the downpour. Still nothing.

Once again, the two sat in silence for a long time. Fíli did not question why Kíli was still there, and he was glad of it; as much as he wanted to tell Fíli that Thorin still cared, he knew it would mean much more if Fíli heard it from their uncle himself first. So he merely waited, watching puddles form on the ground and turn into little rivers downhill. He wished that his clothes were dry.

Finally, Kíli spied silhouettes approaching. He sat up straight and counted the shadows—there were three dwarves. It had to be Gimli, Thorin, and Dís… Kíli looked at Fíli, who was eyeing him curiously.

"What are you looking at?" he said, craning his neck to look in the same direction. His eyes widened and he looked back to Kíli. "Who is coming?"

"I… had Gimli go get Uncle and Mum," Kíli said sheepishly. "We've been searching for you—all of us. I just happened to find you first."

Fíli shrank back and shook his head. "Oh, no, I don't want to talk to him, Kíli, please—"

Kíli grabbed Fíli's wrist and looked out at the approaching shapes. "He's almost here, Fíli. Just listen to what he has to say."

Fíli looked around frantically, as if he were looking for a means of escape, but Kíli held his wrist tight. He looked back out towards his kin. They were almost to the tomb. Thorin was running towards them, and Fíli pressed himself into the stone and looked down. Kíli waited until Thorin was nearly upon them before he let his brother go; then he stood and stepped back. Thorin came crashing to his knees before his heir.

"Fíli!" he said, taking his nephew's face in his hands. Fíli flinched and continued to look down, but Thorin forced his head back up.

"Fíli, are you all right?" Thorin said. He looked him over quickly for injuries; finding nothing, he turned his attention back to Fíli's face. "You can't run off like that, lad… after all that has happened… I can't lose you again. Not again."

Fíli did not reply. He was looking at Thorin with a furrowed brow, confusion written all over his face.

"I am sorry, Fíli," Thorin continued. "I rejected you when I should have accepted you. I should have celebrated at your homecoming and instead I was angry. Please forgive your bitter old uncle."

Still Fíli said nothing, continuing to stare in disbelief. Thorin pulled himself closer and touched his temples to Fíli's, closing his eyes tightly.

"None of it was your fault," he said. "The words, the attacks… you were victim to circumstances outside your control, and you should not be blamed for any of it. I forgive it all, my boy. Do not blame yourself. Please come home."

Fíli looked as if he could hardly believe what he was hearing. Thorin pulled back and looked at him expectantly, and Fíli opened and closed his mouth a few times before he could make words come out.

"You… you still… want me?" Fíli said, his voice small and timid.

"Of course I do," Thorin said.

"You're not angry with me?" said Fíli.

Thorin shook his head. "I was wrong to ever be angry with you at all," he said. "Please forgive me."

Fíli's lower lip quivered, and he nodded fervently. "Of course," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Of course, Uncle, I forgive—"

Before he could finish speaking, Thorin pulled him into a tight embrace. At first, Fíli looked startled; after a few moments, he returned the embrace, clinging to Thorin's tunic. His eyes moved to and fro as he struggled to process what had just happened. A smile grew on his face, and he clung to Thorin even tighter, pressing his nose into his uncle's collarbone.

Then, Fíli burst into tears.

One chapter left! Don't forget to review!