A/N: Thank you to pepperonyscience on tumblr for being my beta for this chapter! Your input is greatly appreciated 3 as are you! And love and kisses as always to Mhyin, my darling, for reading it over before I posted as well.

Kíli awoke with a sudden intake of breath and then a burst of pain in his chest. He let out a strained groan and lay still, hoping for the agony to pass. For a moment, it did; then, as he breathed in again, it came back. He wiggled his fingers to find them in the dark. Still there. He slowly pulled his arms inward and felt his torso. Nothing felt out of line, but even the smallest pressure hurt fiercely. He let out another groan.

His head. His head was killing him. He lifted one hand to his forehead and felt around. Wet. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to clear his head, but when he opened them, he saw two wavering hands instead of one. He closed his eyes again. What on earth had happened to him?

"Kíli! Where are you?"

"Here," Kíli called, wincing at the volume of his own voice. After a few strained breaths, he pushed himself up to sit, grunting at the effort, and backed up against the stone wall behind him. He looked out, trying to focus on anything moving, but his vision swam nauseatingly, and he looked back down and covered his eyes.

"Kíli!"

"Over here," he called, pressing his palms deeper into his eye sockets. By the Smith, everything hurt. He heard heavy Dwarven footsteps approaching and waved weakly. Warm, wet hands were suddenly on his face, and he recoiled from the sensation.

"Are you all right?" Fíli asked, his voice trembling. "I thought it might have killed you…"

Kíli didn't know what it was. "I-I think so," he replied, wiping at the wetness Fíli had left behind. "I mean… my head—and I think some of my ribs are broken, too." He opened one eye to look at his hand. Whatever Fíli had left on him was dark and thick, and he blinked and looked up. Before him was a dark spectre of his brother. His face, his hair, his coat—almost every inch of him was covered in blood.

"Fíli," he whispered, aghast.

"It's not mine," Fíli said quickly. "I—I killed it. The troll. I just slipped and fell into its blood, that's all."

A troll. Kíli stared at his brother in the low light. The blood was dark against his light skin and hair, but clouds now veiled the moonlight. No reflection of red shone upon him. The concentration was too much for Kíli to maintain; he closed his eyes and bowed his head. He hissed as hands palpated his torso, but Fíli ceased his torture quickly.

"Nothing broken than I can feel," Fíli said. "Bruised or cracked, more likely. I think you'll be all right. Do you remember what happened?"

Kíli shook his head and immediately regretted it. "I don't know," he said. "Last thing I remember…" He paused. As soon as he tried to grasp the memory, it faded like a dream. He tried to think. "I remember a family. Hidden in a hatch. I know s-something bad happened—I don't remember what."

"It was a troll," Fíli prompted.

"Right, a troll," Kíli repeated. He had no recollection of any troll. "Where are the others?"

"Likely not far, if they heard the noise," said Fíli. "Stay here. Rest. I'll find them."

Kíli nodded carefully and watched his brother rise. A brief grimace passed over Fíli's face, and Kíli furrowed his brow.

"You're not hurt, are you?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Fíli said, his gaze already beyond Kíli to their ever-darkening surroundings. "Don't worry about me."

Kíli settled back against the stone, and Fíli ran off. A drop of water landed on his cheek. He wiped it away, and another droplet landed on the tip of his nose. He groaned. As if he weren't miserable enough.

The next thing Kíli was aware of was the sound of voices and the patter of rain. Slowly, he started to make sense of what he was hearing; it sounded like Fíli was arguing with Thorin.

"It picked Kíli up without a single sound," Fíli was saying. "We never saw or heard it coming. I didn't have time to find you. Look at him!"

Kíli remembered none of that. Someone touched his torso, and he jumped and let out a small, irritated noise. He opened his eyes to see Óin poking and prodding painfully at his ribs, a lantern at his side.

"Watch it," he grumbled. Óin ignored him and poked around some more, but Kíli's head hurt too much to say anything else.

"Where is the troll?" asked Thorin. "Are you sure it is dead?"

"Unless it can survive without its head, then yes, it is dead," said Fíli. Kíli could hear the irritation in his voice. "It isn't far."

"Kíli, can you walk?"

"I can try," Kíli said. He made himself look up again. Thorin was standing before him now, his hands outstretched; Kíli took hold of them, and Thorin pulled him up. He let out an involuntary cry as his body protested the movement, and Thorin and Óin both caught him and held him upright. He tried a few deep breaths, pausing as they caught painfully in his chest, but he managed to stay standing.

"All right?" Thorin asked.

Kíli nodded carefully and pushed towards his brother, but Fíli took a step back and turned around, gesturing for them to follow. Thorin kept a steadying hand on Kíli as they followed. In the rain, it had not been immediately obvious, but the body of the troll lay only a couple dozen yards away. A pool of black blood surrounded its short neck, and its head faced away from them, completely severed. He looked at Fíli's blackened face and hair again.

"Durin's beard, laddie," said Dwalin. "All by yourself?"

"And you're sure you're not hurt, Fíli?" asked Óin, surveying the scene with his lantern. Glóin was inspecting the head. "A creature this size—it would not be shameful. Let me take a look, at least."

"I'm fine," Fíli insisted. "I slipped and fell—that's all."

"Trolls can cause more than just wounds," said Glóin, kicking at one of its tusks. "We need to clean this up. Let the people know the trouble is over."

"Aye," said Thorin. "Dwalin, Glóin, Óin, the four of us will remove the carcass. Here, Fíli, let your brother lean on you."

"I don't need to lean on someone," Kíli grumbled, but as soon as Thorin relinquished his hold, he regretted his words. Fíli came up on his right and wrapped an arm around him; his fingers dug a little too hard into Kíli's side, and he let out a sharp gasp that got caught in his chest before he could let it out.

"Sorry," Fíli whispered, loosening his grip.

"Not your fault," Kíli whispered back.

Fíli was silent for a moment as Thorin started directing the others.

"Yes, it is," he said quietly.

Kíli turned to look at his brother, perplexed. Fíli's eyes shone unnaturally white on his blackened face as he looked straight ahead at the others dealing with the troll, his jaw set. Before Kíli could think of something to say, Thorin approached them again, a lantern in one hand and the other shielding his eyes from the rain. Kíli winced and turned his head away from the light.

"Kíli, how are you feeling?" Thorin asked.

Terrible. Kíli wished he would put the lantern away. "Well enough to help," he said, straightening up as best he could. "I don't want to sit aside while everybody else does something."

Thorin nodded and looked to Fíli. "And you, Fíli? You're certainly a sight to see."

"I'm fine," said Fíli. "Don't worry about me."

"Well, perhaps you could at least clean your face before I send you off," said Thorin, holding up the light to look at him. The black blood was starting to drain in rivulets off his face, dripping into his coat collar. "We need to start searching for townsfolk and see who has survived. Let them know that the danger has passed." He smiled fondly and rested a hand on Fíli's shoulder. "Thanks to you."

The smallest hint of a smile graced Fíli's face for just a moment before he averted his gaze. Bemused, Thorin glanced at Kíli, who raised his eyebrows and frowned; he would have felt prouder than proud, had he brought down such a thing himself.

"So, you are up to the task?" Thorin continued. "I know we have all been awake for a very long time now, but once we spread the word, I am sure the village will extend hospitality to us for a day to rest. I will make sure you both can recover strength before we begin the journey back home."

Kíli would take a day to rest starting now, if he could. Fíli glanced over at him, and he gave him a short nod.

"We are up to it," Fíli said. "Where do we start?"

"You can start by washing that troll blood off your face," said Thorin. "No need to frighten the villagers. Find the inn and see if it is intact. If they have blankets, see if they will let you take them. Cover any bodies you find. Take the injured to the inn."

"Aye, sir," said Fíli and Kíli together. Thorin turned to rejoin the others at the troll. Kíli looked to Fíli.

"Stay in front of me," Fíli said. "I want to keep an eye on you."

"Oi," Kíli protested. "I don't need to be hovered over."

"Well, I'm the one who should have been keeping watch, and I missed a great, hulking troll about to snatch you up and toss you into a wall," Fíli snapped. "So I think, given the circumstances, you will forgive me if I make sure something I let happen doesn't get worse."

"You didn't let it happen," said Kíli, looking at his brother quizzically. "That troll managed to destroy half this village without being spotted, Fee."

Fíli did not reply. He pulled out his lantern and set to work lighting it, cursing as the rain became heavier. Kíli winced and looked away as the light burned into his eyes. Everything was becoming too much—even the gentle patter of rain sounded too loud. He wanted nothing more than to just rest.

"Right," Fíli said, lifting the lantern. "Go on. Let's find the inn so we can get out of this rain."

"And your face?" Kíli asked.

"I've nothing to wash it with," said Fíli. "The rain can take care of that. Let's just go."

That was good enough for Kíli. He traipsed toward what he thought could be the center of town, and Fíli followed behind with the light. Along the way, the destruction continued as it had behind them; some structures were destroyed, while others were untouched. Kíli was grateful not to see any dead bodies in the street. They knocked on a few doors, but no one would answer.

"We'll probably have better luck in daylight," Fíli said after the fourth home with no response. "They're likely hiding and can't even hear us."

"I hope so," Kíli said, wiping wet hair out of his face. Fíli's mood was souring quickly. Kíli did not have the heart to tell him how miserable he felt—his head felt like the inside was trying to escape outwards, and even the low light of Fíli's hooded lantern behind him seemed bright as the sun. Breathing against his bruised ribs was torture. All he wanted to do was lie down somewhere warm and dry and fall asleep.

Suddenly, Fíli started and swung the lantern to his right.

"What is it?" Kíli asked, following his brother's gaze a little too quickly for his vision to catch up with. Nothing caught his attention, but he did not trust his own eyesight at the moment. He looked back to Fíli.

"Did you see that?" Fíli said, holding the lantern out. "I thought I saw something move."

"I didn't see anything," Kíli said, furrowing his brow. Fíli's eyes were wide. "You all right?"

Fíli stared out for another few moments, and then he blinked rapidly and shook his head.

"I'm fine," he said. "Don't—"

"—Worry about you, I know," Kíli finished. He looked out into the rain miserably. He still didn't see anything.

"Never mind," said Fíli quietly. "Let's keep moving."

Kíli turned and continued forward. "Everybody is safe already," he muttered. "There's no point in knocking on every door when these people can learn what happened in the morning."

There was no answer from Fíli. The light behind Kíli wavered, and he looked back again. Fíli was holding his lantern up and peering out into the darkness.

"Fíli, what are you doing?" Kíli asked.

Fíli's eyes were focused somewhere far out in the distance, and he didn't seem to have heard Kíli's question. Cocking his head to the side, Kíli took a few steps towards his brother and repeated his question, only to be ignored again. He took a few more steps forward and laid a hand on Fíli's shoulder. Fíli jumped and swung the lantern, and Kíli jerked his head back.

"Watch it!" he said irritably. "Fíli, what is the matter?"

Fíli's gaze flickered from whatever he had been looking at to Kíli and back.

"Nothing," he said, lowering his lantern. "Sorry. It's nothing."

Kíli raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"It's nothing," Fíli insisted, turning a harsh eye to Kíli. "Keep going."

Too tired to argue any further, Kíli turned back around and started walking. The rain was making it very difficult to see anything, and the village was larger than he had anticipated. He felt a wave of distress wash over him as he considered how much longer the two of them had to be out here. He never should have said he was well enough to help—he clearly was not. Why did he have to be so stubborn?

The two of them walked for what felt like forever in silence, though by the count of the houses they passed, it could not have been very long. The rain continued to intensify, and a chill was settling in Kíli's bones. There was little to see outside what Fíli's lantern could touch; everything else was mired in darkness, making it difficult to find anything at all. Another house came into view, and Kíli miserably stepped up to the door to knock. Just as he raised his fist, he heard a clatter behind him, and he whipped around. The lantern was on its side on the ground, and Fíli was stepping backwards, his eyes wild.

"Fíli?" said Kíli. "What is it?"

Fíli did not answer; he just kept backing up, as if some great, horrible thing from which there was no escape were slowly stalking towards him. Kíli abandoned the door and walked towards his brother as quickly as he could manage, but Fíli paid him no mind. When Kíli grabbed his shoulders, he let out a startled shout and reached for his swords, but halfway there, he grimaced, and his right hand dropped to hold his side. Kíli looked down to where Fíli's hand wandered, but all he saw was the dark stain of troll blood.

"Are you hurt?" Kíli asked.

Fíli closed his eyes and stood still.

"Fíli?"

"I'm all right," Fíli said finally, removing his hand and opening his eyes. "I think—I think I just need a moment—a moment to sit down, perhaps."

"There's nowhere to sit," Kíli said, frowning. "What aren't you telling me?"

Fíli stepped back out of Kíli's grip and staggered towards the lantern, forgotten on the ground. "Just a moment," he said. "Just to—to rest—"

He never made it to the lantern. Fíli crumpled, landing face-down on the ground. Kíli shouted and ran to him, crashing to his knees beside his prone brother. The jolt shot through his bruised ribs and his battered head, and for a moment, the world went white, and bells rang in his ears. When the pain lessened, Fíli was curled up on the ground, his forehead pressed into the mud and his arms wrapped around his body.

"Fíli, tell me what is wrong," Kíli said, placing a shaking hand on his brother's back. "I can't help if I don't know."

"I'm fine," Fíli said, but his voice was strained and weak.

Kíli moved his hand on Fíli's back, and his fingers ran against the edge of something unfamiliar on Fíli's coat. He paused and touched the spot again, and Fíli hissed suddenly below him. A deep foreboding rose in Kíli's stomach. He left Fíli for a moment to fetch the lantern and looked again; the light, however, was too much for him, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Just let me rest here for a few moments," said Fíli faintly, his voice barely audible above the rain.

"I'd love nothing more, Fee, but you have to tell me what is the matter," Kíli said, attempting to look again. Everything swam before his eyes, and he cursed. This night was hopeless. He set down the lantern and put his hands on his brother; perhaps he would be able to feel more than he could see. Fíli cried out and pressed his forehead harder into the ground, but Kíli could not tell what was amiss. Frustrated, he pulled at Fíli's belt and coat to remove them.

"Kíli, stop," Fíli said, his voice cracking.

Kíli paid him no mind and continued his work, lifting Fíli up to his knees. Fíli did not help him, but he stopped trying to hinder him, resting his head on Kíli's shoulder. Shortly, Fíli's coat was off; the troll's blood had soaked through even into his shirt, and Kíli grunted in frustration. He laid his hands on Fíli once again, feeling for injuries, and Fíli whimpered and pushed his forehead harder against Kíli. Something felt wrong on Fíli's side, but with the way Kíli's head was pounding, he could not find the focus to identify what it was.

It was then that a glint of color caught Kíli's attention. He lifted his hand into the light, and his heart felt as if it had stopped. Red. His entire hand was red—not black—with blood.

Kíli yanked up Fíli's shirt. Black streaked across his back and side, but the red shone even brighter. Kíli's eyes followed it to its source; instantly, bile rose in his throat and the ringing in his ears returned. Blood pulsed freely from two holes, wider than Kíli's thumb, in Fíli's back. His ribs on the right side were visibly broken, contorting his chest beneath the skin, and the flesh that was not streaked with black or red blood was turning a deep purple.

"Fíli, why would you hide this?" Kíli said breathlessly.

"I'm sorry," Fíli whispered. "I'm sorry… I don't—I don't know…"

For a selfish moment, Kíli wished Fíli had admitted that he was hurt before they had done all this walking. He pushed the thought away. His head was still ringing, and with each panicked breath he took, his body protested against him. There was no way he would be able to carry Fíli, or even support him walking, in this condition. And to make matters worse, the blood was flowing more freely now that Kíli had freed the wounds from the covering of Fíli's coat. He cursed again and pulled Fíli's shirt back down. The coat was soaked with both water and blood, but so was everything else. He placed it over Fíli's back and looked up, desperately hoping someone was nearby.

"Help!" he shouted, and searing pain went through his chest. He winced for a moment and then tried again. "Help, anyone! Please help!"

There was no answer. They were alone in the dark, and the only people nearby were hiding for their lives, unaware that the danger from which they sought refuge had passed. Thorin and the others would likely be gone for some time. Tears welled up in Kíli's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Fíli said again. "I didn't think—I didn't mean to…" He trailed off, and his hands gripped the front of Kíli's coat. "I thought… I don't know—"

"Save it for later, Fee," Kíli said. "Let's worry about getting you taken care of for now."

"It's too late," Fíli moaned, his voice gaining volume. "I should have said… I shouldn't have lied—"

"Don't talk like that," Kíli said as a jolt of panic shot through him. "Stop it. We'll find help."

"I'm sorry," Fíli said again. "It's too late… too late." His leaned into Kíli and shivered.

Kíli felt as if his heart might burst, it was beating so harshly in his chest. He had never heard Fíli talk like this in all his life.

"Help!" he called out again. "Please, help!"

Fíli was muttering under his breath now, things that Kíli could not hear and was not sure he wanted to hear. He pulled Fíli's coat closer around him—not that it offered any warmth now—and looked up to the dark sky, his tears lost to the rain.

"Please save him," he prayed, hoping that some benevolent spirit or god could hear. "Please."