Fili wished he hadn't agreed to go to dine with the others, as he stood in his room, trying to stir up the will to go, trying to tell himself that it won't be as bad as he thought, that the food would do him good, that company might make the pain subside for a short time. Numerous times he had strode towards the door, lifted a hand towards the handle, froze, lowered his hand and returned to sink down onto the bed. It was a horribly uncomfortable bed, but he could stay there forever. In the end, it was Thorin who coaxed him from his room, a hand on his shoulder, practically pushing him through the door. Fili hadn't seen anything of the Master's house beyond his room. It was dark, that was the first thing he noticed, the windows were so thick with dust that the glass looked grey and not much light seemed to penetrate the layer. The maids and servants were sour faced and scurried about like rats, they kept their eyes low and seemed most discontent with their job. Fili didn't blame them, he wouldn't want to work here either. It was dreary and smelly and the air was thick and clammy.

Fili followed his uncle through crooked hallways and down a set creaking stairs. It got lighter as they descended, clearly the Master kept the lower levels more appealing, for guests. The furniture was finer and cleaner and the air wasn't as stodgy. He could hear voices as Thorin lead him to room which was so aburst with light it flooded the hallway like a wave of warm sunlight. The voices were contained and courteous, apart from one that boomed above all others, a chortling, boisterous voice. Fili could make quite a confident guess as to who it belonged to. They were nearing the door, the scent of food and wine wafting towards them, when Thorin turned, stopping Fili in his tracks.

"The Master knows nothing of Kili, as far as he is aware you are the only nephew I have ever had. Do you understand?" He said. Fili stared at him, brows pulling together. It had been less than a day, was Thorin truly ignoring Kili's very existence already? "Do you understand?" He asked again, his voice firmer.

"I won't pretend Kili never existed, Thorin, that he doesn't still exist."

"You must. This business is not something the Master needs to concern himself with."

"This business? Is this what this is to you?"

"Fili. Now is not the time for you to get hysteric. You will hold yourself together, you will act like a prince, you will not bring up your brother. You will not make a fool of yourself or me. Do you understand?" Thorin wasn't asking him. This wasn't up for discussion. The pair's blue eyes stared at each other for some moment's, each gaze as icy as the other. Thorin took Fili's silence as his nephew complying and once again led the way towards the dining hall Fili followed, indignantly, behind him.

The heat hit Fili first as he and Thorin entered the room, he hadn't felt warmth like this for some days. Lamps were lit and the fireplace crackled away on the nearest wall. Then came the smell. How long had it been since he had smelt such pleasant scents? His stomach grumbled hungrily almost immediately. Everyone rose from their seats at their entrance and the Master strode over with heavy steps.

"Mr Oakenshield, at last." He smiled, flashing crooked teeth. "I was beginning to wonder where you were." His appearance was comical. He was a large man, not just in terms of height but also in width. He had a huge, swollen belly beneath an open fur coat and a red doublet, the buttons of which were clearly struggling. And upon his huge body was an


equally large head with wispy hair making, swept over to make a poor attempt of disguising the balding beneath. "And this must be Fili." The sound of his name snapped him from his critical studying of the rather grotesque man. The Master flashed another crooked smile and reached out a hand. Fili stared at it, at the small, fat fingers adorned with rings that were clearly too tight – he could almost make out the discoloured skin beneath. They were greasy from where he'd torn at some sort of meat. Fili forced a smile and shook it, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "Your uncle told me you weren't well, but you're looking much better." The Master was still shaking his hand. Please let me go, Fili silently begged.

"Yes, thank you." He said, forcing as much composure into his voice as he could. Finally, his hand was released. He sighed gratefully.

"Now, come and eat." The Master clapped Fili on the back with a force that almost had the blonde stumbling forward. "I have saved you seats." He steered them to the table. "Thorin, beside me, Fili beside him."

Fili took his seat and was quite relieved to find Bofur was sat on his right side. His friend gave him a smile which seemed to express his own dissatisfaction for their host. Not that it seemed to have prevented him from drinking three goblets of wine. Opposite him sat Dwalin who watched him as he sat, it seemed that the warrior was also rather discontent.

"You alright, lad?" He asked in a low voice, leaning forward slightly. Fili flicked his eyes towards Thorin, feeling an argy heat in his gut, before looking away.

"Yes." He said flatly. Dwalin didn't look convinced but said nothing else. He straightened up. Even when Fili let his eyes fall, he could still feel the older dwarf's on him. He wondered if Thorin had said the same thing to him, to pretend that Kili had never existed. Had Thorin said it to everyone? Was everyone sat around the table pretending that they never knew him, because how could you know someone who didn't exist? Of course he had. Because this was business. Is this what a kings business was? The complete disregard of family? No, he's doing what he must, he still loves Kili, it's a pretence, he tried to tell himself. He wanted to believe it, but something tugged at him. He dragged in a deep breath, inhaling the smell of the food on the table before him. His stomach grumbled again. In the end, he took some pork sprinkled in spices, potatoes and bread. Though his stomach growled, he knew he wouldn't be able to eat much. His appetite was almost non-existent and he spent quite some time pushing the food about on the plate. He did not, however, turn down some wine when Bofur offered to pour some. Perhaps it would help him sleep that night. As he finally took a bite of the pork he listened to the conversation beside him.

"You have come at a good time for my town,Winter is fast approaching, I feel her bitter bite every morning, and winter means that food becomes scarce. The lake freezes, you see, it's harder to fish when you can't get a boat through the water." The Master chuckled. Fili doubted he'd ever even held a rod or a net. He doubted the Master had ever done any sort of manual labour. He probably didn't even dress himself. How could he with such stubby arms and such an overly large stomach? The sides of Fili's mouth turned up as he raised the wine goblet to his lips, he took a sip and placed it back down. "The gold you'll grant our fair town in exchange for my help, will do much, not just for this winter but for all winters to come. Laketown will stay your most faithful ally."

"I am glad to here it." Thorin said, "And I'm glad a deal could be struck. Just a few days until Durin's Day and Erebor will be reclaimed. It would have been no easy task getting there without your help" At the sound of that word, that name, Fili's fists closed tightly around the silver fork he held until he felt it dig into his palm. He let it go and reached forward to pour more wine into his goblet. He was aware of Bofur and Dwalin's eyes on him but he ignored them. He took a big gulp.

"And what about you Fili?" The Master eyed him from his place at the head of the table, "you've never been there, I understand, but you must have heard many great stories." Fili took another drink and placed the goblet down. He twisted his body to rest his right elbow on the table and faced the Master who was looking at him expectedly.

"Yes." He said unenthusiastically, "almost everyday when I was growing up." When we were growing up.

"Of course, as Thorin's only heir I expect you were taught all about the place." The Master smiled. Fili didn't like this man, not one bit. His speech didn't sound genuine, it was all forced niceties so he could get what he wanted – Fili doubted the rest of Laketown would see much if any of that gold. The Master turned to Thorin. "He is the only heir isn't he? No other siblings back in the Blue Mountains I can expect to meet one day?" Fili stiffened. The whole table fell silent, each member of the company were staring at him, he knew it.

"No." Thorin said quickly, "he's the only one." Fili turned away, resting both elbows on the table now, a hand covering his mouth. His jaw was stiff and his chest constricted with fury and sorrow.

"You sure? Your nephew doesn't seem as convinced as you." The Master said with an amused tone as he stared down the table at Fili, his small eyes asking a question he didn't voice. Are you as sure as your uncle, Fili? Are you the only one? Fili dragged in a deep breath which seemed to burn in his throat. No, he wanted to say, I have a little brother who is alone and scared and in trouble and hurt but Thorin would rather pretend that he was never born because he doesn't matter as much as Erebor. Because nothing matters as much as Erebor. The words howled in his head, he couldn't lie about the person he loved the most, he couldn't dismiss Kili's existence, he couldn't pretend like Thorin could. That would be an insult to his brother's suffering. How could he lie? How could Thorin even ask him to lie? But that's exactly what Thorin expected him to do, and that was made clear by the kick Fili received to the leg. 'Don't make a fool of yourself or me.' Fili straightened his back and took a steadying breath.

"No," he said, his eyes devoid of all life as he looked at the master. "There's just me." The words were like poison, they clawed at his throat, begging not to be spoken, burning and tearing at him. But he said them, and as he did so, his soul shattered. The Master grunted approvingly and carried on his conversation with Thorin. Fili turned away. In that moment he loathed himself, he had betrayed his brother, the one person he thought he could never do that to. But in that moment, he too had been betrayed. By his own uncle, the man he looked up to like a father, who had raised him, who he had thought wouldn't ever betray him or his brother. He felt as though he had been gutted, right there on the table, in front of everyone. He wanted to get up and leave the room, leave that town. He just wanted to leave. Because he knew that after the feast was ended, he would never be able to look at Thorin without feeling an all-consuming anger, that he wouldn't be able to hold his own head high again. He hoped that when the Necromancer came back, that he would kill him. Fili deserved nothing more than to die, staring at the form of the brother he so cruelly betrayed. He sat there numb after that, unfeeling, cold and staring into oblivion. He didn't feel Bofur lay a comforting hand on his arm or see the look of unadulterated heartache on Dwalin's face from across the table, nor the way the rest of the company bowed their heads sullenly.

Fili was only pulled from this state of devoid and desolate being, with the entrance of four armed men into the room. His head turned sluggishly in their direction as the black-clothed man beside the Master shot to his feet and marched towards them. Alfrid, he was called. Fili hadn't payed that much attention to him, other to come to the conclusion that he looked like some greasy black weasel, or some other rodent.

"What's the meaning of this? Can't you see the Master has guests?" He gestured a thin hand to the company. The man at the front cast a critical eye over them, his thin eyebrows pulled together in a scowl. "Whatever it is you can …"

"Speak quickly, Braga. Don't disrupt us for long." The Master waved Alfrid away with a quick motion of his hand. He looked down the table at his guests, "This is Braga, Captain of my Guard." He turned back to Braga, "this best be important."

"Aye, it is, sir." He bowed his head. He looked at the company again, this time with uncertainty. His fingers twitched at his sides. The Master sighed loudly and impatiently.

"Speak up, Braga." He ordered with a growl. Braga straightened himself, the harsh look back on his face.

"Three of my men were found dead this morning, sir." He said, "on the edge of town." At that it seemed each member of the company suddenly froze, their eyes flicking about nervously.

"That's awful, how did they die?"

"Murdered, sir." Braga informed him. "Happened sometime during the night." The company became even more on edge. And though they tried to hide it and fake shock and confusion, there was no pretending they didn't know who – or what – had done it. "Necks snapped clean, heads facing the wrong direction. No signs of struggle." The Master made a nauseated sound into his hand and his face scrunched up.

"Perhaps this was better disgusted in private." He said with a shudder. He looked at the company and their distressed expressions and cleared his throat. "Braga." His voice had changed now, and held an air of stern authority, "double the watch, find the fiend that did this and put him behind bars." Braga nodded, "now go." He waved the captain away before smiling at the company, "and don't fret, you are very safe in my house." They forced smiles back at him. "Now, as awful as that was, let's put that business behind us, desert it next." He rubbed his hands together hungrily. But nobody else felt quite as keen.

In his seat, Fili felt as though he was shrinking. What had that beast made his brother do?


Dol Guldur was dark and cold, just the way the Necromancer liked it. A stone skeleton, rotting away in a dead forest. He could feel the cold air swirl around him, picking up the ends of his hair, making his fingertips tingle. He smiled, how good it was, to have a body again. To feel these sensations once more. He had been without form for so long he had almost forgot what it meant to feel cold, to feel anything, hard stone beneath his feet, the rough walls of Dol Guldur against his palms. He smiled and inhaled deeply. Yes, it was good to have a body again. And with this body, and the royal blood flowing through it's veins, he will state his claim to the richest kingdom in Middle Earth, and with it's wealth bring other kingdoms crumbling to their knees, watch their people beg for their life as he ripped their life straight from their bodies. Just like he'd done to those Laketown guards. The satisfaction he felt when he heard the snapping of their necks, that last breath pass over their lips, the sound of their bodies collapsing to the ground, made him hunger for more. He smiled again and stepped into the shadowy structure of the fortress, the three orcs following him obediently.

Azog stepped from the darkness to meet him, his pale skin shining in the moon light and his icy blue eyes reflecting the glow. He grinned, revealing sharp rows of teeth, as his master approached. It pleased him to see the body of the irksome dwarfling with the brash mouth being used like this, for he knew the boy was aware of it all. That he could see him and know he couldn't fight.

"Master" he said, bowing his head. The Necromancer smiled a cruel smile and strode side-by-side with the orc through the crumbling hallways of the fortress. More orcs lined their path, kneeling as they passed. The Necromancer's black eyes studied them, his servants, his army. They stared at him with fear, avoiding his gaze as he walked passed them, keeping their heads bowed and eyes fixed on the floor. He liked being feared. It is better to be cruel and feared than kind and loved, that way nobody could call him weak, that way he had control. With fear he would rule the world. But one orc, it seemed, did not fear him and refused to fall to his knees and avert his gaze. Rather than being enraged, the Necromancer was amused, because he would make this creature fear him. He would make him tremble with terror.

"You do not fall to you knees like you comrades, are you unable?" The Necromancer asked, keeping his voice flat. The Orc approached and squared up to him. Indeed his current form, this dwarfish body, meant he had less height but it didn't matter. He was more than this pathetic beast could ever be. He sneered.

"I choose not to." The orc said, his voice low and growling, yellow eyes shining. Around them the other orcs looked up to watch the scene, but their knees remained firmly planted against the cold stone floor.

"Is that so? What a shame." The Necromancer raised a hand and curled it into a fist, slowly as if he was squeezing something between his fingers. Immediately the orc began to cough and choke, body trembling as a red liquid began to trickle over his cracked lips. He gasped for air, clawing at his chest as if he was trying to get to the lungs caged within. About them the other orcs began to shriek, some with fear, others with excitement. The Necromancer kept his pitch black eyes firmly fixed on the orc he had trapped, his mouth twisted with sick delight. Now the creature was afraid, he could feel it and it thrilled him. He laughed as the orc struggled, yellow eyes pleading, desperate for the pain to go away, for the burning in his lungs to subside. He was afraid, yes, he was very afraid. The Necromancer was pleased and released his grip, the sneer not leaving his face as it lay in a crumpled heap, gasping, at his feet. He rolled his neck and sighed dramatically before crouching beside the form in front of him. "Now, get up and kneel." The orc remained where he was, still struggling to pull in breaths. The Necromancer sent his boot into his gut, the orc whimpering like some sick mutt, at the impact, "Get up and kneel!" He growled, his words like venom. The orc flinched and pushed himself unsteadily to his knees and bowed his head.

"Master." He said. The Necromancer smiled and looked about at him.

"I am your master, you will do as I say." He said, turning slowly, projecting his voice so all the orcs could see. "And by doing so you will wage wars and create ruins, the orcs will be the most powerful race, all will fear you, no one will dare defy you." About him the orcs began to cheer and whoop, they punched the air and drummed their weapons, their wargs howled. "Do as I say and Middle Earth will be ours! Together we will rule the world." The sounds of the orcs echoed through out Dol Guldur, ringing off the walls, as if the very fortress was cheering with them, the dancing of their torchlight made the shadows look like living things. This was the sound of an army ready to destroy. The Necromancer flashed his teeth in an inhuman grin, he looked much like some predatory animal. He stepped close to Azog. "Now," he said "I hope you have been keeping my guest comfortable." Azog sneered and the pair walked through the crowd to find the wizard, enthusiastic cheering following them as they went.


Fili was sat on the edge of the bed, eyes looking straight ahead, chest heaving with angry sobs, and his hands elevated slightly before him. Blood dripped from cuts on his palms and his knuckles. He had returned to his room as quickly as he could once the Master called an end to the feast and he'd forced a 'thank you.' He had slammed the door shut behind him screamed, all the anger he had tried to subdue at dinner finally exposing itself. It burst from him, red hot and like nothing he had ever felt. It was like his very soul was tearing itself apart, ripping and burning, the alcohol in his stomach intensifying it. And he had taken his rage out on the furniture about him, which now all lay about the floor. A splintered chair leg. A broken bowl. Books from a desk had been hurled against a wall, loose pages fluttering free with the force of it. A shattered mirror. He had seen his reflection in it and launched his fist at the glass again and again until the shards fell from the frame and his hands had turned red with blood, knuckles screaming out in pain from where the slivers of glass had torn them. If he hadn't suddenly felt his rage-fuelled energy leave him, he would have continued. But instead he slumped down as salty tears run down his face. He felt like he was suffocating beneath this shame, this anger, this betrayal. It all weighed down on his so hard he felt as though he'd sink straight through the mattress, straight through the house and straight to the bottom of the Lake. It weighed down on him until he felt nothing but a cold numbness. He wiped a tear from his cheek, aware of the blood he had just smudged across his face. But he didn't care, he didn't care about anything now. It was hard to care when you didn't feel, and sat there in that room, with only the moon to cast any light, he felt nothing anymore. Only emptiness.

There came a knock on his door, his head snapped in it's direction. His top tip curled back with a malice that was alien to him. It was Thorin knocking, he knew it. And he didn't want to see him. Thorin betrayed him, he betrayed Kili, and in turn made Fili do the same. And he hated him for it. The knocking came again.

"Go away, Thorin." He spat, "I don't want you near me."

"It's not Thorin, lad." Fili frowned as Dwalin's voice came, why had the warrior come to his door? "Can I come in." Suddenly Fili felt a yearning for the strong dwarf's presence, Dwalin would snap him back to his senses. Dwalin was sturdy like a rock. And it was better company than his uncle's.

"Yes." He said numbly. The door opened slowly, Fili looked away from the light that flooded in. Dwalin stepped inside, a lamp in his hand, and looked, with dismay, about him at the ruined room.

"What on earth?" He pushed the door closed behind him and strode towards the bed, stepping over an overturned chair. "Fili?" The young dwarf's eyes must have burnt with fury in the lamplight, because Dwalin's movements became more cautious as he approached. "Lad, are you alright? There's blood? Are you hurt?" His grey-blue eyes widened and he lunged forward, his weariness of the clearly angry dwarf subsided by the concern he felt at the red liquid that dripped from his hands and smudged his face. He wanted to ask how he'd done it, but had already seen the shattered mirror. He placed the lamp down on the tabled beside the bed and sank to kneel in front of the blonde. "Let me see." He said. Fili shook his head and pulled his bleeding hands away.

"It's nothing."

"If you don't let me see, I'll get Oin." Dwalin rose and eyebrow at him. "Or Thorin." At this he saw Fili's entire body stiffen, his eyes burn red with fury.

"I do not want him anywhere near me." He growled.

"Then let me see your hands or I'll have no choice." He smiled when Fili, resentfully, let him examine his hands. "I don't know what in a worse state, these or the mirror." He rose to his feet and walked across the room to a dressing table near the window, it was one of the only pieces of furniture that was still the right side up. On top of it was a jug of water, a bowl and a washcloth. He carried them and knelt back down. He began to clean the cuts, gently running the wet cloth over them and making sure no glass was embedded in the skin. Luckily this wasn't the case. Which was an upside, he supposed. Fili said nothing and made no movements as he carried on with his work, every now and again he gazed up to see complete emptiness to Fili's blue eyes. The anger he had just witnessed at the mentioning of his uncle's name was gone. But this hollowness pulled at Dwalin's warrior heart even more. He hated seeing this fiery lad so dispirited. Once he was done he used the cloth to wipe the blood from Fili's cheek, finding no objection there, either. He sighed. "There, I really don't know what Oin makes such a fuss about." He forced a smile but Fili simply stared at him, broken.

"Why would he do that, Dwalin? Why would he make me do that?" He asked, his voice cracking. Dwalin huffed sadly and shook his head. He shifted to sit on the bed.

"It was easier than explaining everything to the Master."

"The Master didn't need it explained to him, he doesn't need to know. And Thorin is going around pretending that Kili never existed, made me deny my own brother. How could he do that?" Fili stared at him, eyes desperate for an explanation, for it to make sense. But Dwalin didn't have an explanation. It would have been easier if Kili had never returned. Dwalin had thought he'd understood, but seeing the hurt on this young dwarf's face, the betrayal and heartbreak in his eyes, he wasn't sure he did anymore. He watched a tear crawl down Fili's cheek and wrapped his arms around him. This wasn't fair, what Thorin was doing was not fair.

Fili didn't expect Dwalin to pull him into a hold. Dwalin was staunch, he didn't give hugs often. But Fili collapsed into it anyway and found himself sobbing into the warrior's shoulder. Under different circumstances Dwalin would have told Fili to pull himself together, but it seemed that he too shared Fili's sorrow. At Kili being taken by the Necromancer, at Thorin saying he had no other heir.

"Did he tell you to do the same?" He asked, his voice muffled, "to not talk about my brother?" Dwalin hesitated and Fili could feel him trying to find the right words to say, but in the end he just sighed and said:

"Aye, lad, he did." Dwalin had thought he understood Thorin's request, but he wasn't so sure anymore. It sounded so outrageous now and he scorned himself for agreeing. "I'm sorry, I..." Before he could finish and as if on cue, the door opened and Thorin walked in. Immediately Fili unwrapped himself from Dwalin's arms and moved to lunge at his uncle, only being stopped by Dwalin's hand around his wrist.

"Get out!" He bellowed, "Get out of this room and away from me!" He tried to pull free but the other dwarf's grim was too firm. "Stay away from me!" He soon found one of Dwalin's arms around his chest, holding him tight. He struggled and thrashed, wanting to cross the room, he wanted to hit Thorin.

"Fili, calm down." Thorin said, holding up his hands.

"Don't tell me to calm down, you have no right to tell me to calm down, not after what you did!"

"Thorin, I think it's best you leave." Dwalin grunted, trying to keep Fili restrained. But Thorin didn't leave, but rather took a step closer.

"Contain yourself, Fili, we're guests in this house." He looked around him, "and you've already destroyed this room." In Dwalin's grip, Fili growled like some sort of wild animal and tried to tear himself free. Dwalin's arms began to hurt and he knew that before long the younger dwarf would get away.

"And that's your fault!" Fili yelled

"How exactly?" Thorin gestured to the room about him, "I didn't break any of this stuff."

"You don't get it do you? You don't understand what you did!"

"I know what I did, and why! What was I supposed to say? The truth?"

"Nothing, Thorin! You didn't have to say anything, or you could have but you shouldn't have made me say it! Do you have any idea how that made me feel?" Thorin said nothing to this, rather continued to stare at his nephew with an almost vacant stare. Fili felt himself deflate and stopped his struggling. He shook his head in disbelief, "what's happened to you?" He asked. His uncle was changing, suddenly it was as though he didn't care, not about him, not about Kili, not about anything … except Erebor. He sank in Dwalin's grip, thankful that the warrior's grasp was still strong, for he was sure he would have fallen to his knees.

"I am thinking logically, Fili. I know what's happened to you brother is … worse than anyone could imagine, but I can't think of that now. The Necromancer is going to destroy everything we've worked for, if there's a chance that we can stop him, then we must do it, and we can't do that if we keep holding onto something we can't change. If that means saying I have no other nephew, then so be it." Thorin crossed his arms over his chest, "Do you understand?"

"Yes." Fili said angrily, shrugging Dwalin off him, "I understand." He stepped towards Thorin, squaring up to him, noses just inches apart. "I understand that you've only ever cared about one thing. I hope you get what you want, Thorin, I hope it makes you happy." He turned away. "Now, get out." He said, fists curled at his sides, the light of the lamp on his back, his face in partial shadow. The moon outside had been concealed by thick clouds. From behind him, he heard no movement. He growled, "get out!" he roared.

"Thorin … I think …"

"That's alright, Dwalin, I'm going." The door opened, the room flooded with light, the door closed and the room became dark again. Dwalin shifted his weight and sighed.

"Fili, the way you said that," he said warily, "I hope you're not planning on leaving." Fili said nothing, "you're not are you?"

"What reason have I to stay, Dwalin?"

"The mountain, we're so close. I know that's not what you want to hear …"

"You're right, it's not. That mountain is the reason all of this happened. I don't want it, it has brought me nothing but pain and I'm not even there yet. No matter what anyone says, it is not my home. Home is where my brother is and I … he's been taken from me."

"I know that, lad, but don't go. Help us finish what we've started." The room plummeted into a silence. The moon quickly shifted from behind the clouds, briefly illuminating the room with a silver light before settling back into its hiding place. Dwalin stared at Fili, the blonde still turned away from him, with a sinking feeling in his gut. He did not want Fili to leave, they had already lost one of the young Durin heirs, it would be unbearable to lose the other. He heard Fili sigh as he turned to face him.

"I will come with you to the mountain, I will finish this journey with you, whether I will stay when the task is done I have not decided." Dwalin felt his spirits pick up at this. "Now go, I'm tired." I want to be alone. Dwalin said nothing, just nodded.

Once he was alone, Fili felt himself exhale the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, it came out long and trembling. He sank down on the bed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on his shoulders until he ached all over. He felt heavy with guilt and anger and betrayal and sorrow. It made him feel sick. He blew out the lamp and lay back, eyes staring up into the darkness. A sole tear creeped from his eyes and fell onto the sheets. He was tired of crying, it made him feel weak and broken, when he had held Kili to him in that barrel as the river carried them away from the elves and the orcs, he had thought that all the pain was behind him. But it came back anew. He squeezed his eyes closed and dragged in a breath.

"No … it's just me."


-AN-

CH.40. 40. 4-0. FORTY! I cannot believe how far this story has come! When I originally planned this, it wasn't even half this long. And I have you guys and your support to thank!

I'm gonna be honest, the part where Fili says "It's just me" made me so sad. I think of everything I've written, of Kili's 'death' of his possession, this is the worst. The fact Thorin is forcing Fili to say that he has no brother is just so heart breaking to write. I think it would have been easier to Fili to say that his brother was 'gone' but there you go. I mean, I understand where he's coming from but, my god, no need to be such a dick about it, Thorin. I think I see a fractured relationship between Fili and Thorin from here on. *cries*

But can we just appreciate fatherly Dwalin for a sec. You know those 'cinnamon roll' memes? Well, he's the one which says "looks like they could kill you, is actually a cinnamon roll." Well, in this chapter at least!

The next few chapters may come a little slow, it's the last few months before I graduate Uni, which means … essays, a dissertation and exams. *dying whale noise*

As usual, faves, follows and reviews are appreciated