The company had settled down to sleep, choosing to group together in the same area, despite the vast size of Beorn's house. Sleeping close to one another seemed to lessen the danger posed by the fierce, unpredictable bear and the man with a dislike of dwarves. Everyone had gathered together, everyone except Fili who had excluded himself from the rest of the group, choosing instead to sit alone. He had his arms wrapped around his legs with his chin resting on his knees. He was still awake, dim firelight reflecting in his blue eyes that stared blankly ahead. Thorin was sat on the opposite side of the room, arms crossed over his chest. His nephew looked so young sat like that, he looked like a lost, scared child, not like the strong prince he had helped raise. The fire in the young dwarf's heart had been extinguished.

"Thorin." Balin slid down the wall to sit beside him. "You need to talk to him."

"He doesn't want to speak to me, Balin. He hates me, he blames me." Thorin lowered his gaze. A mouse scampered across the stone floor. "And I can't help but think he's right."

"He doesn't blame you." Thorin's head snapped to the side, brows furrowed. "When I spoke to him earlier he confessed something to me." Thorin noted the troubled look that crossed his friends face. "It's not you he blames for this, not really."

"Then who?" He asked. For a moment Balin said nothing, just stared over to the blonde sat alone in the corner. "Who?"

"Himself." It was just one word, just one simple word but it stung Thorin like a dagger to his heart. In fact it hurt worse than any dagger.

"No." He breathed, looking towards his nephew – who now had his forehead buried in his arms and appeared to finally be asleep - feeling a fresh grief seize him. "Oh, no. I would rather he blame me. He can't do this to himself, Balin. He is hurting enough already. Why? Why does he blame himself?"

"Because he convinced Dis to let Kili join the quest. He said that if he had listened to her that he'd still be alive. He said …" Balin's voice began to tremble and fresh tears blurred his vision as he repeated the words that Fili had said earlier, the words that sent his blood running cold. "He said that he as good as killed Kili himself." If Thorin had not already been sitting, he would have fallen to the ground at that. He prayed that he had misheard Balin, but he recalled the look on his friend's pale face when he had returned with Fili earlier that day, the concern and distress that marred his features, and he knew that those words had indeed passed Fili's lips. His nephew couldn't do this to himself, he couldn't let guilt weigh down on his already unbearable burden of grief. That would only break him quicker, and he was already in such a fragile state. Every impulse urged Thorin to go Fili, every morsel of love and compassion in the stern king's body instructed him to take his nephew in his arms and purge him of the evil guilt that had overwhelmed him and turned him into a shell of what he once was. If it wasn't for Fili sleeping so soundly now, he would have done so. But the blonde's position had shifted enough for his uncle to see that his eyes were closed and his breathing was soft and relaxed. Sleep was the only time he could be at peace, and so Thorin made a note to speak with him in the morning and chase the away guilt.


Kili was weary, his lids felt like they were made of led as he battled to keep them open. He couldn't recall the last good sleep he'd had. Every night since he had been captured had been long and he'd been afraid to close his eyes, sleep had been almost as daunting as the days he had spent in the orc's company. Rivendell. That had been the last time he had slept the whole night through. He had slept amongst his companions, amongst his friends. Beside his brother. He had felt cheerful and contented, excited for what lay ahead. This had not been one of the things he had foreseen when he and Fili had spoken eagerly about the grand adventure they were embarking on. Rivendell. Ered Luin. They both felt so very far away, and so long ago. Almost as though they were in another life. He wanted to go back, to go back to when he was untroubled and happy. Feelings that seemed alien to him now. He wanted to feel like that again. With a sigh he tried to shift his position. He could feel the tree bark digging uncomfortably into his spine, pressing against his wounds. He never thought he would become tired of trees, but if he never saw another one again, it would be too soon.

The orcs had been stationary for some time and Azog seemed to be observing something. And whatever it was, was making him increasingly impatient. Kili could see it in the way the pale orc stood, with his arms crossed over his chest, and in the way his scarred face grimaced in frustration. The beastly wargs were riled, snapping and growling at one another, batting each other with huge paws, claws flashing. In fact both orc and warg seemed on edge. There was an air of grim expectation hanging over them. Expectation for what, he didn't know, but it was making Kili nervous. Every growl, every snarl and each snap of sharp teeth made him flinch. He tried to ignore them, but his drowsy mind had grown ever more alarmed. His head hung down, limp and matted brown hair hanging in front of his face, hiding his pale skin from seeming even paler in the glow of the moon. Through the gaps in his hair he watched Azog and Gurlak striding over, the white orc saying something in Black Speech. A scowl on his face. Both sets of eyes flicked quickly towards him, he was sure their hard gazes would have frozen on him for much longer, if it wasn't for the sudden snapping of branches and rustling of leaves. Something was coming.

Suddenly all of the orcs had weapons in their hands, scimitars, spears and axes flashing in the moon's sliver light. Their eyes staring into the darkness of the treeline. The prancing wargs had fallen still, bodies low and poised, ready to pounce on whatever was approaching. Suddenly another huge hound, dark furred and with glowing eyes, burst through the trees. It came to a halt mere inches away from Azog, its snapping jaw almost touching him as it snarled cruelly. But the pale orc didn't flinch, or move away at all. Instead he straightened his back and stared directly into the beast's eyes. Saliva dripped from the warg's teeth. Azog crinkled his nose. Kili dragged his eyes off the hound and looked instead at its rider. The orc sat upon it was just as pale as Azog and twice as ugly, if that was possible. He had metal woven into the flesh on his face which cut jaggedly down his forehead and right cheek. With only half a nose, one completely white eye and a seemingly torn away top lip, he looked like he had been mauled by some ferocious wild animal.

"They are gathering at Dol Guldur, the master had summoned you." He said. Looking down at Azog, whose face contorted in a scowl. Then then new orc stared over at Kili, whose blood ran cold in his veins. It was such a forbidding look. The young dwarf tensed with trepidation. "He wants you to bring him."


Bilbo was the last to wake up the next morning, golden sunlight streaming in through the windows of Beorn's house. At first he had forgotten where he was and it wasn't until a rather large bee buzzed past his face did he remember the huge black bear from the day before. The rest of the company were already awake and sat around a huge wooden table, so large in fact that their legs swung comfortably beneath the bench they were sat on. The hobbit shrugged on his red jacket and moved to join them, gazing up at a brown cow, who munched on straw and watched him pass. He suddenly became aware of Beorn, who was indeed the tallest man he had ever seen, towering above the rest of the company, including Gandalf. He was a very hairy man, dressed in furs and a long tufts of grey/brown hair along his jaw. He wore a hard look upon his face, dark eyes beneath long, bushy eyebrows. He didn't acknowledge Bilbo as he pulled himself onto one of the seats – which was higher from the ground than he had first thought. Instead he was pouring milk from a massive wooden jug into a tankard on the table in front of Fili. The cup was as big as the dwarf's head.

"So you are the one they call Oakenshield." The Skinchanger said, walking away along the side of the table. He peered over his shoulder to look at Thorin, who was leaning against a carved pillar with his arms crossed over his chest. "Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?" A dark look crossed Thorin's face, his gaze quickly flashing from Beorn to Fili and then back again.

"You know of Azog?" He asked with a stern voice. "How"

"My people were the first to live in the mountains, before the orcs came down from the North. The Defiler killed most of my family" Beorn gripped the jug with both hands and Bilbo noticed a rusted iron manacle around his wrist, with two loops of chain still dangling from it. The hobbit's brow creased. "But some he enslaved." Beorn said darkly. He paused for a moment, jaw tensing before he continued. "Not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging Skinchangers and torturing them seemed to amuse him." Without warning and before anyone had time to say anything, or Beorn had chance to continue, Fili marched from the room, pulling open the huge front door and stepping out into the cold morning light. The moment the door swung shut the company lowered their eyes sadly. Ori pushed away his tankard of milk, which until that moment he had been enjoying, and Bofur removed his hat and placed it on his lap. Beorn raised his large eyebrows, "did I say something to offend?" Thorin sighed and ran a hand through his greying black hair. It was Balin who answered.

"The lad's brother, Thorin's youngest nephew, was murdered by Azog a few days ago." The old dwarf said sorrowfully, "he is still grieving." Beorn's gaze moved to Thorin, who had his eyes lightly shut and was pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I am sorry," the huge man said in far less gruff voice, "I did not mean to upset him."

"It's alright." Thorin nodded. He sighed and his blue eyes flicked open. He sunk back against the pillar slightly and stared towards the door. "You weren't to know."


Fili paced, entire body shaking, and kicked a tuft of grass with a growl. Lumps of dirt and green blades flew through the air. He had walked straight through Beorn's garden and out of the tall gate, which had been open ajar. Now he walked back and forth along the length of one section of the wooden wall. It casted a long shadow in the sun and felt like the wall of a fort. Fili suddenly felt a fresh grief building up inside him and burning in his gut, it made his chest feel tight. He slid down the wall and sucked in long deep breaths. He was fed up of feeling like this, of crying until his eyes stung, of feeling like everything was collapsing around him. He titled his head back so that it rested against the wall, he could feel and ivy leaf on the back of his neck. He stared up at the sky, Beorn's word's echoing in his mind. Enslaved. Caging. Torturing. These particular words hurt the most to remember, but no matter how hard he tried to banish them, it was as though he was in a cave and they were reverberating off the rocks over and over.

"Fili." He turned his head to see Thorin. He hadn't even heard him approach. His uncle's face was half hidden in shadow, but he could see that he was wearing a sad look. "Are you okay?" Fili looked away. At first he didn't respond. He took a moment to think about how he felt. Upset, yes. Angry, yes. But he also felt afraid. Afraid that the things Azog had done to the Skinchangers, he would have done to his brother. Had Kili been caged and tortured? Had his last days been painful and miserable?

"If Azog would do those things to Beorn." He said in a quiet voice, "what would he have done to my brother?" He heard Thorin sigh before moving forward to sink to his knees before him.

"You can't think about that."

"I can't help it. I can help but wonder what Kili's life had become before he died. About how scared and hurt he must have been." A sole began to creep down his cheek. "How alone." Thorin reached forward to wipe the tear away with his thumb. His hand lingering on the side of Fili's cheek. "It hurts, uncle, it hurts to think of him. In here." He pressed a closed fist against his chest, above where his heart would be. "And I can't think of anything."

"One day, but it won't be tomorrow, or next week and probably not month, but one day the hurt will go away. And when you think of your brother, you will feel only happiness and love." A small smile appeared on Thorin's face as he looked into Fili's eyes.

"I don't think I want it to stop hurting." Thorin frowned, not quite understanding. "Because the pain I feel is him, it's Kili. And if it stops hurting then it's like he's truly gone. Like … like I'm forgetting him."

"Oh, Fili." At that Thorin leaned forward and pulled Fili into an embrace. At first Fili didn't return it, his body going tense at the action, and Thorin feared he would pull away, but then Fili's arms wrapped themselves around him and he buried his face in Thorin's shoulder. "You will never forget him. No matter how many years pass, your brother will always be with you. Even if the pain is not." Thorin stroked his nephew's blonde hair. "You have so many wonderful memories of him which will never go away, they are too strong and too happy to go away. And whilst he may not live here he lives in those memories. That is where you will always find him." Thorin felt Fili tighten his hold on him.

"I am sorry that I shouted at you, uncle. I am sorry that I blamed you." His nephew said, voice muffled slightly in the fur of Thorin's coat. "It's not your fault." It was then that Thorin remembered what Balin had told him the night before. His blood had frozen with horror and he had made a note to speak to Fili. Thorin pulled away and held his suffering nephew at arm's length, looking deep into his blue eyes, which had darkened considerably in the past week.

"Balin told me what you said to him." Fili looked away but his uncle reached to turn his face, fingers placed gently beneath his chin, so that they were once again staring at one another. "And I want to make one thing absolutely clear." Thorin's voice was firm. "You did nothing to get your brother killed. You are not to blame for what happened to him."

"But…" Fili began, but Thorin held up a hand to silence him.

"Since the day Kili was born, I have watched you. And you were the most wonderful, caring and protective brother he could ever have wished for. I know what it is like to be an older brother, but you never ceased to astound me. Everything you did was for him, you were so selfless. Even on this quest you put Kili first. On days you were hungry, you gave him some of you own food. On cold nights you gave him your blanket." A silent tear rolled from his eye. "And I am so proud. And Kili loved you so much, he would not want you to feel guilty, Fili. That is the last thing he would want." Thorin placed his forehead against Fili's. "You must promise me to banish this guilt." The younger dwarf smiled ever so slightly and sniffed back a tear.

"I promise, uncle."


-AN-

Due to the fact all of your reviews have been so very, very kind and seeing as tonight is Christmas Eve, I thought I'd update! A gift haha! And this one has a slightly nicer and lighter ending than the others, even if it does have all of the Durin feels. Good old uncle Thorin, hopefully this will help Fili feel a little better.

I know in the movie the orc who tells Azog to strike is … I think … called Narzug, I'm not sure. But here he is called Gurlak, who is almost as big of a dick as Azog, because I forgot about Narzug and to add him now would be confusing and pointless.

I hope you all have a great day tomorrow! Merry Christmas all!