"You are mine now."
The Necromancer's voice echoed in his mind as he opened his eyes. When Kili awoke he was laying on his back, looking up towards the ceiling. His vision was hazy, it made the shadows seem like they were dancing and shifting around the edges of the stone and creeping down the walls like long, sharp fingernails. For a time, he couldn't move, it was as though his body was made of lead, and he continued to lay where he was. He had woke with a new and strange understanding of his surroundings. Somehow, he knew exactly where he was and what he had faced in the cavernous hall, how he knew he couldn't say. It was as though the answers to his questions had been seeded into mind. As he dragged in a deep, shaking breath, his head pounding and swimming, he could finally put a name to the evil fortress in which he had been imprisoned. Dol Guldur. The name was like an echo in his mind, he was sure he had heard it before, no doubt in one of Balin's history lessons that he had dozed through, only catching fleeting bits of information. But somewhere in his memory, the name lingered.
After a while, Kili managed to roll onto his side, groaning as he turned. Even that small movement seemed to drain him and he panted for breath. It was darker in the dungeon now, the only light was the orange glow of a torch down the hallway. The glow barely reached the cell but caused the bars to cast serpent-like shadows across the floor. Kili followed them as they slithered over the stone until his eyes fell on a dark patch near the centre of the cell. He couldn't remember it being there the last time he was locked in there, it seemed like it didn't belong. At first Kili supposed he had been moved to a different cell, but he recognised the way the iron bars bowed in different places along their length and the fresh scratch marks where Gurlak had opened the rusted door.
Gurlak.
Kili's eyes flicked back to the patch, immediately knowing what it was. Blood, dried blood. Gurlak's blood from when Kili had driven the stolen scimitar through his chest. When Kili had killed him. He had remembered the vicious glee he had felt when he drove the blade through the one-eyed orc, the feeling of accomplished revenge for all the pain Gurlak had cause him. It had been like a madness had taken over him. With a shaky breath, his eyes searched the floor, looking for that second patch of blood that had belonged to Murg. He found it near the door, dark lines trailing off like dried rivers, merging with the shadows. Kili's stomach churned and he turned almost onto his stomach, retching onto the stone floor. His throat began to burn, dry coughs scratching their way up it like claws. His sight went blurry and he was worried that he would pass out again, white began creeping in from the sides of his vision, distorting what he could see.
After a little while, he managed to push himself onto his knees and half-crawled-half-dragged himself towards the far corner of the cell, hoping to distance himself from the dried orcs' blood. He let his eyes fall lightly closed. Images flashed against his lids: The blade twisting in Gurlak's chest as the creature fell silent. The hundreds of orcs that crowded in the gaping hall, weapons raised a flashing. The Necromancer emerging from the shadows, draining the light and warmth from the air around it. Kili shock his head. No. Necromancers aren't real, he told himself, it was a trick. It had to be. Necromancers were just legends. But in his mind he was so certain. Just like he knew where he was, he also knew what he had seen. He had faced a necromancer. He could almost still hear its voice inside his head.
Dol Guldur. Necromancer. He sighed, almost wishing that he didn't know these things. Wishing that he was still unaware of them. He remembered wanting to know, but now, he wasn't so sure. Now, he was even more afraid.
Fili couldn't say how long the company had been marching, it was hard to be sure of anything with a hood covering his head. He could only make out vague shapes through the fabric. But after a while of being blindly lead through the forest, the hood was removed and they were steered down stone staircases, cavernous walls lined with doors made of metal bars reaching up around them. He titled his head back. He could see Elven guards watching them from the upper levels, pacing back and forth, bows and arrows strapped across their backs. One by one the dwarves were unbound and pushed roughly into stone cells, their coats removed, leaving them in only their tunic. The iron doors slammed closed behind them. Fili didn't turn as the keys were twisted in the locks, or when the elves disappeared down the halls, he simply remained stood where he was, hand shaking at his sides for many moments. He could hear the other dwarves yelling, some kicking at the bars. Fili ignored them and slumped down against the wall, pulling his knees up and resting his arms upon them.
"I waited for you to come, and you didn't!" … "You left me alone to die!" … "You abandoned me!" … "I'm dead because of you!"
The quieter the Mirkwood dungeons became, the company finally falling silent in their cells, the louder the echoes got. Kili's voice repeating in his head over and over. The first time it happened, Fili clamped his hands over his ears, hoping to block the words out. But the voice was a memory, lingering in his mind and his hands would do nothing to quieten it. Instead now, he allowed it to fill his head, each word, each letter, like a dagger to his heart. Kili was right, no matter what his uncle told him, Fili had left him, whether he wanted to or not. Fili had left Kili behind on that cliff. A silent tear rolled down his cheek as he pulled the rune stone from his pocket, fingers tracing over the engraved letters. Return to me. It had been a promise. And promises, it seemed to Fili, didn't matter much anymore. Fili had promised to keep Kili safe. Thorin had promised they would find Kili alive. Neither of which had been kept. But as Fili rolled the stone over in his hands, there wasn't any part of him that doubted that Kili had fought to keep the one he had made their mother.
"The stone in your hand." Came a voice. "What is it?" Fili's hand snapped shut around it, and he raised his head to see who the voice belonged to. A red hair elf, stood on the other side of the bars, her green eyes staring at him. Fili quickly wiped the tear from his cheek and glared at her.
"It's none of your business." He spat. She crossed her arms over her chest and straightened her shoulder.
"I could have it confiscated."
"You may as well." Fili grumbled. "You have everything else of his."
"Of whose?"
"It is none of your business." He repeated, his words slow and hard.
"Then I will call another guard to come in there and take it from you." At this Fili stirred, grip tightening around the rune stone. His knuckles turning white. "Whose is it?" Tauriel probed, copying his tone. Fili huffed, jaw getting tight.
"My brother's." He said.
"Where is he?"
"He's dead. He was murdered by orcs." Fili struggled to say the words, they crept from his lips slowly as he tried to ignore each of them. Tauriel's posture relaxed, her arms falling softly to her sides.
"I'm sorry." She said, sounding almost as if she meant it. Fili sighed.
"Everyone always is." What good is sorry? He recalled the words he had spoken to Balin some days ago. It was as if people felt like they had to say it, like some part of their mind required them to mutter this meaningless word whenever they learnt of someone's death. He remembered saying it a few times, he thought it was a polite, considerate thing to say. But now he realised how tiresome and irritating it really was. It was meaningless, yet people still said it.
"Was he younger than you?" The elf enquired.
"By five years. It's not much at all, but he was my little brother nonetheless, and it was my duty to protect him. And I failed." Fili dragged in a slow breath, before looking at her. Brows knitted together slightly. "Do you still wish to take it from me?" He asked, "As you did his bow? This stone and his weapons are the only things I have, do you wish to take them both?"
"No. You can keep it." Tauriel shock her head, her voice was gentler now. She watched Fili closely, as he uncurled his hand from around the stone and ran his thumb across it. "I have never heard of a Dwarven archer." She said. "I thought most dwarves prefer axes and swords."
"My brother was not most dwarves." Fili smiled despite himself, looking down at the object in his hand. "He was different. Quicker, swifter. He cared more for fun than anything else, others could have learnt from him." From the corner of his eye Fili saw the elf give him a sad look, he had received enough of those forced smiles from his friends. He did not want another, especially from someone who was keeping him locked up. "Go away." He groaned, "I don't need your sympathy, elf." Tauriel lingered for a moment, before nodding and leaving him be. She did not understand grief, because she had never felt it, but she saw it in Fili's eyes. And she felt sad for him, without understanding why.
Kili must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he was aware of was knocking on the bars and the door being swung open. His head snapped up and he saw two orcs walking towards him, three more stood outside the door, holding flaming torches. The tallest held a fresh piece of rope in his hands, twisting it around his palm as he approached. Kili did his best to snarl at them as they got closer, pressing his back against the wall, teeth bared like a feral animal. The shorter orc, lingered back slightly, looking almost nervous. His eyes seemed too big for his face, disproportionate to his other features. Apart from his ears that were long and pointed. Well at least one was long and pointed, the other had been cut to half its size, the top of it curling over slightly like a limp fish tail. He stared cautiously, as if he was facing a ferocious bear, not a battered and weary dwarf. The tall orc, however, was not as careful. He strode forward without concern, eyes flashing in the torchlight. Kili tried to back away, forgetting about the stone wall, his heels kicking out. The orc growled and reached forward, wrapping the rope tightly around Kili's wrist, despite his feeble attempts to wriggle free. Kili hissed when the rope was tied, feeling it press against his scratched and cut skin, which had been breathing the cold air whilst he had been locked in the cell.
"It is time to go, dwarfling."
"Where?" Kili managed to ask, his voice barely more than a whisper. The orc said nothing, simply pulled Kili to his feet. Kili could hardly keep his feet beneath him, his legs shaking under his weight, as he was marched away, the other orcs glaring at him as he passed. He felt the tips of two scimitars digging into his back, keeping him walking forward through the halls. Kili didn't know where they were taking him, he only hoped it could be better than he was now. Anywhere would be better than where he was now.
-AN-
A little conversation between Fili and Tauriel. She may play another role in later chapters. But unfortunately for the shippers there will be no Kiliel or Filiel in this story, because this story is all about the brotherly relationship between Fili and Kili. (Sorry not sorry.)
Hmmm, so Kili has left Dol Guldur. I wonder where he's going.
For anyone who wants to know about how he knows about the Necromancer and Dol Guldur, its because the Necromancer was telling him these things when he was hearing the Black Speech, though he doesn't know this yet.
As usual, favourites, follows and (especially) reviews are very much appreciated.
