The atmosphere of the sitting room had gone cold ever since the departure of Thorin after Kili but there was naught to be done about it. Much as the others wished they could help, Thorin had been right on one account. This was something the leader would need to sort out with their youngest. They would do little but interfere, and among dwarves well known for their difficulty expressing emotion, the less they could hinder it, the better. So, while it hurt to picture what might be said out in the dark, the group forced themselves not to fret about it. So, after selecting an order for watch, they began to prepare for the night.

Dwalin volunteered to stay awake to take first guard but it was fairly obvious he was waiting to see the outcome of the fiasco and hopefully reign in their leader if need be. While the entire group was loyal to the Durin line, he and his brother Balin had known them the longest and both of them had been involved in helping Thorin and Dis rear Fili and Kili. He couldn't help but feel a little more involved with this than the others even if there was nothing more he could do about it. There were some things that Dwalin or Balin could sway influence on but they knew from experience that there was nothing they could say or do. They could only wait.

Bilbo was not satisfied with that.

Fili had not moved from his spot by the door, his eyes always on the outside through the tiny cracks in the frame. The hobbit left his bedroll where it was and trotted over to the blond haired dwarf. One leg constantly tapping up and down, Fili was nursing his pipe like it was a lifeline, though he didn't ever see any smoke coming out. It looked more like he was chewing the end. Anxiety bled off him. Bilbo took a seat next to him and after considering himself a moment, he asked "Has Kili acted that angry before?"

"He's not angry," Fili corrected, though he did not turn to look at the hobbit. "Least, not as much as he seems to be. Well, I mean, he IS angry, that was a livid Kili, no doubt." He sighed and finally let out a deep exhale of smoke toward the door. "But he isn't…he isn't trying to wear on Thorin's nerves or anyone else's." Fili found that while Bilbo was quite easy to talk to, he really didn't know what he was trying to say. "He's not trying to cause strife."

Allowing a smile, Bilbo advised "Oh, I've known that, Fili." He said with a gentle pat to the dwarf's hand, "Neither you or Kili mean to do such things."

"He's scared." Fili clarified, his hands now mimicking his constantly jittering leg as his voice dropped in volume. "He's been scared since Carrock." Shifting his eyes finally from the door to meet Bilbo's, he stated "I thought I had…I thought we had gathered it under control. He was maintaining and we both knew that there would be things on this journey we would not be prepared for. We both knew that. I knew that. So, we talked about it, when the rest of the company slept. We have always leaned on one another and I thought he was coping with it." He rested his head into his hands. A sense of failure practically shone from him like moonlight.

Bilbo eyed the young dwarf. While technically Fili was older than him chronologically, Bilbo had found that dwarves definitely aged differently. Gloin was always speaking of his 'wee lad' whom Kili had said was 15 years his junior. If Gimli was merely a "wee lad" then Kili could not have been much older and thus, Fili could not be much older than that. It was all rather confusing to him. By Hobbit standards, would that mean both these brave lads were barely of age? Eyeing how distressed poor Fili was over not being able to ease his brother's emotions, he was inclined to believe it. Thinking a moment, the Hobbit asked,

"Fili, what about you?"

Startled a bit, his leg stopped for a moment and he lifted his head "Eh?"

Cocking his head a little, as he did not see what was so confusing about that inquiry, the Halfling explained, "You keep talking about how Kili is scared but what about you?" He hoped his warm smile was comforting, "I know you're worried about Kili but what about you? If Kili was frightened, certainly you must have been too. After what happened to Thorin with the White Orc." Bilbo tried and failed to suppress a tremble. That had cut into his own heart, to see Thorin fall and he had just begun to know the dwarf. Fili and Kili on the other hand…well, Bilbo knew that they were his nephews or his "sister-sons" as Thorin referred to them but what kind of relationship that entailed, he truly wasn't sure.

Ah, there is was. Fili stiffened significantly.

It took a moment but the blond dwarf gathered his wits, "I…I'm alright." He finally settled on. It was hardly convincing though, even to him.

Sure enough, the curly haired Hobbit folded his arms with a scoff, "No, you're not. I can't blame you either. That was a horrible experience!"

"I…I've been trained for battle, Bilbo," Fili argued. "By both Thorin and Dwalin. So has Kili. You, well, pardon me for saying it, but you're hardly warrior material." He offered a half smile to the statement, as penance for stating such a rather unflattering judgment but the hobbit hardly seemed bothered. If anything, he just took out his pipe and lit it after a moment.

"Oh, you're right, I'm not." Bilbo admitted. "I am surprised that I managed as I well as I did," he eyed the small sword to his side and then stated, "You and Kili were such a welcomed sight." He meant that too. When he had attacked, he had gone on nothing but raw emotion and he really had not had a plan on what he would do. He just knew that he could not let Thorin die. It was no surprise that the next dwarves to rally to the cause had been Fili, Kili and Dwalin. The others had followed shortly after but Bilbo had to admit that after the reconciliation on Carrock, he had not given much thought to the aftermath. In his mind, they were all safe and truly that was to be praised but now, seeing Kili and Fili, he suspected they all could have done with processing it a bit more. "There is no shame in being afraid" Bilbo offered reluctantly. After all, what did he know of battle?

All the same, he could not just sit here and watch Fili torment himself.

"I…have learned to cope with fear," Fili advised. "So, if my brother is in need of comfort, I provide it. I obviously did not do enough."

Tsking under his breath a moment, the hobbit retorted "Fili, you know I am new to this. None of this is familiar to me." He smiled "I suspect that I am often more trouble than I am worth but I am grateful for all the guidance you all try to give me." He lay a hand on the dwarf's hand until he turned and looked to his face again. "However, I feel on this I can offer some advice." He took a heavy breath. He certainly did not want to insult the warrior but the way he was acting, the way he was talking, so distracted, "Is it possible that you weren't able to help your brother as much as you felt you should have because YOU needed some help?"

The dwarf blinked at Bilbo for a long moment during which the hobbit opted to continue.

"In the Shire, we have a saying: you cannot fill your water pitcher if your well is dry." Bilbo had heard that so many times growing up, often as they lent a hand to the Gamgees or traveled to the market with extra supplies for those struggling with a bad harvest. "It must be hard to provide comfort to your brother if your own heart needs it." He trailed off. He really didn't know what else to say. It was apparent that it was not just Kili that needed to speak with their leader. While Thorin had certainly not gone out of his way to treat the boys any different, Bilbo had caught the very subtle signs.

The way Thorin would scoop an extra spoonful or so into their bowls as they passed around meals. The way no one would take the extra blankets Thorin tossed out unless neither Fili or Kili had claimed them. The extra few minutes of sleep Thorin would allow them as the company awoke in the morning. The way the Leader would make his rounds before he retired himself and would always pause, for a few moments, at the sight of Kili and Fili's slumbering forms. That simple, warm smile that the dwarf king appeared to save only for their youngest members.

"Go talk to him, Fili." Bilbo said firmly.

The blond dwarf didn't respond. Much as Bilbo made sense (far too much sense), he couldn't. He was the elder brother, he was the heir apparent.

He had to be strong, he had to be firm, no matter how the memory made his heart quake.

He could not crumble.

He would not crumble.

He never would have thought his nephew, either of them, would cast such a disrespectful gesture at him. Thorin remembered distinctly using such a gesture only once in his life, when he was a young and brash dwarf and the swat his father had given his cheek had nearly knocked him witless. Perhaps he should have been angry and even repeating the same action but he found that, much like earlier, he could not feel anger at it. Perhaps if it delivered by a heart heavy with contempt, he may have reacted as such but he knew his youngest sister-son and there had never been such foulness in his heart.

Yet now, there was darkness in Kili's eyes that Thorin had only seen reflected in his fellow warriors' eyes or when he occasionally caught Dis in mourning or a glimpse of himself within a lake. It was heaviness, a deep weight that did not belong on such a young dwarf, least of all on carefree Kili. Much as tried to let anger take him for the blatant disrespect, all it did was fill his heart with worry and squeeze it like a vice. He set the younger dwarf with a look, one he had used many times through both his sister-sons' lives and despite the unfamiliarity of this situation, it carried its same weight.

Kili stared, though just for a moment before he turned from Thorin and let the rest of the smoke out of his lips in the opposite direction. The satisfaction he had felt a minute earlier felt more like shame now and yet his uncle had not even opened his mouth.

"Will you speak with me now?" Thorin's tone was heavy but the more he focused on the pain he saw in Kili's body, his face, his entire being, he found the leader tone fading and a more familiar vocal returning. One he had not utilized since before the journey and had been oh so common place for many a year. He had used it for upset dwarflings when they had burnt their hands in the forge, he had used it when hearts were broken by unkind words and he had used it to chase away the shadows of the mind in the dark of night. Now, he found himself using it to try and pry open the mystery that was his youngest heir.

"Speak…" Kili finally responded, his eyes focused on his clenched fists. "You want me to speak?"

"Aye, I'd appreciate knowing what has gotten you so upset, Kili," he answered truthfully. He had focused so much on this journey to see Kili and Fili as fellow warriors, as fighters in their own right as they had earned that title. They were some of his best soldiers and that was not a title easily won. They did not want his favoritism and he had strived to respect that. They each had seen this journey as chance to prove themselves not only to fellow dwarves, not only to their prime mentor Dwalin but to themselves. So, he had forced his sight to see them as warriors and not as kin.

However, now, sitting here amid the night, watching Kili half hunched over, his shaggy hair framing and hiding his face from view, his hands clenched, how could the Dwarf King see anything but the boy he had helped raise? Mahal as his witness, he wanted nothing more than to sweep that pain away. The temptation to offer any kind of comfort won out and he reached out, gently easing some of his nephew's hair behind his ear, letting his fingers rest on the sweaty locks for a moment then gently stroking them, from root to tip, rubbing the ends lightly between his thumb and forefinger, as he used to do whenever Kili was upset.

It worked.

Leaping to his feet, Kili turned on his King, his Leader, his uncle, ferocity in his eyes. "How can you just act like nothing happened?!"

Surprised as he was, at least this was progress. Thorin kept his face calm. His sister-sons were quite young and despite their skill in the conflicts they'd been in thus far (he was not about to deny he had smiled brightly at Fili's sword skills and Kili's aim) they had much to learn. Kili had always been his emotional and reactive one. It was one thing to know about battle but quite another to experience it. Perhaps he should have put more effort into preparing them? The Dwarf King took a heavy breath but then spoke, his voice deep and level. "Kili, battle is inevitable—"

"No!" Kili protested and it occurred to him for a moment that he likely sounded like a child screaming out a tantrum but he didn't care. "Yes, I know battle is inevitable, I know we're going to have to fight. I knew that when I insisted I come but not all battles are! You did not have to march out there to face Azog!" His insistence was sharp and emotion packed. Hands ground into tight fists at his sides, he screeched again "You did not have to face Azog! Gandalf was summoning the eagles! We were going to get away. We could have bought time! You did not have to face him!"

Thorin frowned, deeply. He was not expecting this type of accusation but he did not appreciate what his youngest nephew was implying, "Kili, you are young. You do not understand nor have you endured the battles that I have. Azog has our entire family line on his mind. We are prey to him. He will not hesitate to kill when he gets the chance. I rose to face that challenge." He stood, though slowly. "When the time comes, I will do so again." He was intent on making this quite clear. "My stance against him was necessary."

"No!" Kili snarled again, taking a small step back as his relative stood. "No, it wasn't! Not that time. I understand we have to deal with him but we should deal with him together, when we have the advantage, not him. You…" He trailed off and his mind was whirling. So many images shooting through his memory. Growing up in the Blue Mountains and rushing to greet his uncle as soon as he returned from the forge. Sneaking into the meetings they had with the other dwarf clans, Fili at his side and clinging to their uncle's legs as he spoke about their future. Falling asleep before a fire, wrapped in his uncle's furs to the deep rumbling sound of Thorin's singing. A very faint image of Thorin pacing with him when he had been deathly ill with fever. Thorin talking about Erebor, talking about what a grand future they would build once the Dragon was dispatched. Telling Fili and him about the halls, the ceremonies, the grand mines beneath the mountain. Hearing his uncle's grand laugh as they discussed how they would help rule the kingdom and unite all the dwarven kingdoms into one, proclaiming the honor of Durin's line.

All that could have been erased.

His uncle, half crushed in the mouth of that warg, blood seeping from the wounds like some kind of cursed river. The orc, with the blade to his uncle's throat.

Kili's heart had hurt. It had burned. It felt like that orc had driven his blade right through his chest at that very moment and yet he could not move. Every muscle had been still, every vein cold. His mind had pushed so many memories, as it was doing now, through his mind at that moment and he found himself whispering for his uncle in a pitiful, lost tone. It was only Mr. Baggins' courage that had spared his uncle's life and that cry had spurred emotion in Kili to make him charge. Charge he had, forgetting the lessons he had been taught, forgetting the strategy, forgetting anything but the raw pain that made him see red.

"You're an idiot!" Kili shouted suddenly, and was rather surprised that such a statement came out of his mouth. "Your pride isn't worth your life, Thorin! It's not!" He felt a bit unnerved as, well, there was likely a better way to have phrased that statement but the truth of it rang true. His uncle accused them of not thinking but he had not thought either. If he had thought, he never would have stalked out there to a death match that by the grace of Mahal he had survived. What if he did it again? Kili did not know if his poor heart could take it. Not again. No, it could not—would not—happen again! "I don't care what you think, it's not!"

Okay, _now_ Thorin was angry. Though, on some level, he was rather amused simply because if it weren't for the lack of beard and breast, he could have sworn it was his sister Dis screaming at him instead of his nephew. Kili was indeed of Durin's line and it burned bright as flame right now. All the same, this level of disobedience he would not tolerate. Age notwithstanding, Kili knew better and Thorin was not about to let this go unanswered. He meant to make sure his young nephew understood though. He _needed_ to understand.

"As I said before, my sister-son," Thorin's tone was level through slightly clenched teeth. "You and your brother know nothing of this world. You are young and naïve. You have learned much on this journey but not enough apparently. Azog's assault is not just a matter of pride but of principle." Memories that Thorin preferred to leave buried were surfacing and he truly did not know if he could maintain his calm if it continued. His grandfather…Frerin…Balin's father…so many lost to the orcs at Azanulbizar. "You were not there, Kili. You have heard the stories but you were not there." Thorin's tone was dangerously low. "You were not there when I saw our people slaughtered, when my grandfather-your great-grandfather's-head was tossed at my feet. As if we were worth nothing!" Thorin tried to school his tone but as it always happened when such memories rose up, he was right back there again. Seeing the dwarf that helped raise him, upon whose knee he had sat and listened to songs, suddenly cut from his life and then for his own father to vanish amid the chaos. To wander the bodies only to discover the limp body of his only little brother, cold and gone. Thorin had screamed in grief until his voice went hoarse that day. It was only when Dis ran across the battlefield, casting herself from the safety outside the lines, young as she was and flung her arms around him that his heart had stilled in its agony and beat again.

"My duty is to keep our people safe. We are of the line of Durin, father of the dwarven line and a King is father to his people," Thorin went on, his tone stern but he was maintaining. "Azog slaughtered my grandfather, your uncle Frerin, Balin's father and countless others. We had to burn the dead that day, Kili. There were so many dead that we could not even give them the honor of returning them to stone." Thorin caught his voice and steadied it. Kili did not know of these things and he had to remind himself of that. May he never know that kind of pain. The very thought broke Thorin's heart. No one should know the pain his felt that day. "I will not stand by and let him do it again. I will not lose you or your brother nor one more dwarf to his hand—"

"And we do not want to lose YOU!" Kili screeched, his voice finally cracking though he fought the tears to stay at bay. "You think the same pain that broke you that day was not breaking me and Fili? To see you crushed in that warg's jaws? To see him demand your head?!" The younger dwarf's voice was strained and he sounded desperate, so desperate and hurting. It was tone that was almost not of mortal making, the kind that one makes when a fear deeper than one's life has been touched. "What do you think we were thinking? You are our leader, Thorin, our King and we will follow you. But you're also my uncle! More than my uncle! You may be the Father of our People but you're also MY father!" Tears erupted from his eyes and they ran, free as a waterfall down his cheeks "You are…you always…have been." Head dropped, hair draping into his face, Kili openly sobbed.

Thorin jerked like he'd been struck.

In everything except blood and title though Kili had never called him such, out of respect for his biological sire, Kalin, Thorin was. Whether he needed a comforting hand, a stern guidance, a gentle advisor or on occasions when he was able, a fun playmate, Thorin had always been there. It was a constant, a strong constant, through his young life and it was one that he could not fathom losing.

He could not lose it. He would not.

Energy spent, the young one's shoulders slumped and he fell partially forward, resting his forehead on his stunned elder's chest. "I…I cannot…it hurts too much, Uncle. I can't…lose you." His body shook with repressed emotion and he whimpered, a very young, heartbroken sound. "Everything else…I can take anything else. But I don't want to lose you. Don't make me lose you. Please…"

When the strong arms wrapped around him, he didn't try to stop his tears that time