Bilbo could not recall the last time he had witnessed such grief, nor the last time someone else's sorrow caused his heart to hurt as much as it did as he watched, with wet eyes, Fili sob into his uncle's coat. It seemed to Bilbo that with every tear the young prince broke even more. He wasn't sure if he would see the Fili he had come to know again. He felt a sob form in his throat and he was thankful of Gandalf's presence, of his strong hand squeezing his shoulder for otherwise he was sure the sob would have escaped him. He turned his head to see that the old wizard's eyes were looking away from the scene in front of him and instead were gazing upwards to the leaves above. His mouth was a thin line and he looked somewhat paler.

There was no air left, there was no light, there was no hope. The world Fili had known was suddenly and cruelly dismantled, it shattered and crumbled around him, and he was left in a new world of darkness and crippling grief. His chest hurt from the sobs and his eyes stung from the tears. This couldn't be happening. Not his Kili, not his baby brother. In that moment every happy memory he had of Kili flashed before him, every smile, every laugh, every mischievous prank, things he was never going to see again. He failed, failed to keep the person he loved the most safe from harm, safe from a cruel, lonely death. How could he have failed so badly? He let out another sob and buried his forehead deeper into Thorin's shoulder. Fili didn't know how long he was wrapped in his uncle's arms for, all he knew was that he wanted to stay there, knelt right there in the dark with the smell of his sick lingering in the air. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to carry on without Kili. He didn't want to carry on alone.

"Thorin." he vaguely heard Dwalin say, his heavy footsteps sounded a million leagues away as he approached. He felt Thorin shift as he looked up. Dwalin was walking towards them with stiff movements, every muscle in his face fought to keep his expression hard. But there was sadness in the warrior's eyes. "I found this. The runes are Dwarfish." He said, kneeling and holding out a carved stone in his hand, which trembled ever so slightly. Fili glanced down and felt his heart stop with a crash against his ribs which took his breath away. He knew that rune stone, he remembered his mother giving it to Kili. He reached out a shaky hand and took the stone, reading the words carved into it.

Return to me.

Fili closed his hand around the stone. "What am I to tell mother? I promised her I'd look after him, that I wouldn't let any harm come to him." He sobbed, "How can I tell her that I broke my promise? How can I tell her that he's dead?"


Kili's legs hurt, every step sent a pain through his aching and battered muscles. And the rope tugged on his wrists with every movement of the huge white warg, its rider paying no mind to him as they continued on through yet another strange stretch of woodland. He had noticed that half the orcs had not left the clearing with them, that they had lingered behind with their wargs as the rest of the marched off into the trees. He'd peered behind him as the light of the campfire grew smaller and smaller and as the forest grew darker and colder. He'd felt uneasy in that moment, he felt a feeling of hopelessness wash over him, for he knew, somewhere deep inside him, that they were going somewhere worse. But so far they had only walked, for how long he couldn't tell. He couldn't see the sky now, he couldn't see the stars or the moon, and he couldn't tell if it was midnight or nearing sunrise. All he knew was that he was tired, exhausted. He didn't want to walk anymore, they hadn't stopped, not for a single moment, and he feared his legs were about to give way. He had already stumbled and tripped multiple times, to which he received harsh shoves and kicked to the back. Twice he had fallen to his knees, and both times Gurlak beat him in the ribs and yanked him back to his feet by his hair. It took all his concentration, all his will, to remain walking.

Kili wished to see the stars, at least to figure out which direction they were heading. Not that he knew what good it would do. Perhaps if he knew they moving west, he would know that Ered Luin was creeping closer, even if he would not be able to see the familiar mountains and trees. If he knew that they were moving east, he would know that they were heading towards Erebor, even if he would never reach it. Any sense of direction would have been comforting as he staggered, as he was dragged, through the strange forest, orcs and wargs growling.

It was starting to get cold now, there was an icy breeze blowing through the leaves and bit at the skin of his bare chest. As he shivered he wondered if orcs could feel the cold, as none of them seemed bothered by the chill. Whenever they had lit a fire during the previous nights, it seemed to only serve as a light source – it wasn't like they used it to cook their meat – for he had never seen them huddle around it for warmth, nor even hold their hands above the flames to warm them. Kili wished to share in their abilities to ignore the cold, they seemed to do it rather easily. Orcs were used to this life, and he was not an orc He supposed he had lived fairly comfortably up until now, even his complaints on the journey with the company seemed trivial now. Kili bit down on the inside of his lip and marched onwards, the cold wind blowing through his hair.


"We should go," Thorin mumbled, "We should put leagues between us and this damned place." Thorin placed a hand each side of Fili's face, whipping his nephew's tears away with his thumbs. Fili looked so lost and confused and broken, his blue eyes glistened with grief. It stung Thorin's heart. "Come on," he said softly, getting to his feet and pulling the distressed Fili up with him. Fili swayed as he stood. "Let's go."

"What should we do with Kili's things?" Dwalin asked, pointing towards Kili's weapons that still lay in a pile, the dying firelight illuminating them with a dim orange glow.

"We take them with us." Thorin said. He had one arm wrapped around Fili who gazed down at the stone in his hand. "Distribute them amongst the packs and we will bury them in the halls of Erebor, once it is reclaimed." Dwalin nodded and walked to retrieve them. He didn't recall ever handling weapons so delicately and with such care. He held them as though they would snap. Now that he had his back turned to the company, the warrior allowed a chocked sob to escape him, his face briefly contorting in grief. I'm sorry, Kili, he thought, you did not deserve this.

Once the weapons had been spread amongst the bags – Fili had been intent on carrying his brother's bow, which he held close to his chest, - the company left the clearing in a mournful silence. Fili looked over his shoulder one last time, at the place his brother was so cruelly murdered. At the place where he had failed as an older brother.


- AN -

Thanks for the positive feedback for the last two parts, it was great knowing they were worth the wait and that I conveyed all the emotions I wanted to :)

So here we go, ch13, if only Fili and Kili knew what was happening!

As usual, follows, favourites and (especially) comments are very much appreciated! *high-five*