Chapter Text
Surviving
“Fili.”
The golden-haired Dwarf prince paused in checking over his gear and turned to face his dark-haired mother who stood in the doorway to the room he shared with his brother.
“Yes, Amad?”
She entered the room and briefly cast her eyes over his things. “So you’re all set then?”
He nodded. “I think so. And I think Kili’s ready, too. At least I hope so. He told me he’d finished packing, but you know how he is.”
“I do indeed.” Dis sat down on part of his bed that wasn’t occupied by her son’s many knives. “I’ve already talked to him, told him to watch himself and listen to you and Thorin…”
“But you know he won’t.” Fili gave his mother a knowing smile. “Kili’s never been one to take a step back and think things through.”
“I worry more about putting himself in harm’s way to impress Thorin. He promised me he wouldn’t, but he’s reckless.” She reached out and took his hand. “I know you both want to prove yourselves worthy to be on this quest.” She squeezed. “Please be careful. Maybe it’s not very Dwarven to say, but as your mother, I would rather you cut your losses and return to me, than give your lives for a lost cause.”
“Amad,” Fili squeezed back. “You know what this quest means to Unc-to Thorin.” Fili reminded himself he had to start calling him by name from now on.
“Hang the blasted quest!” Dis snapped. “You’re my sons. You’re all I have left; you two and my thick-headed brother. I know there’s no changing Thorin’s mind once he sets it to something as important as Erebor, and I don’t want to discourage him, but, my golden dwarrow, I cannot lose you and Kili.”
“I’ll make sure we both stay safe, I promise.”
Dis stood and cupped her elder son’s face in her hands, bringing their foreheads together in a gentle bump. “See that you do. Look after your brother, Fili. And look after yourself.”
“I will, Amad.”
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“I’ve got this.”
Fili hefted his sword in his hand as he sent his brother off to scout the lower levels of Ravenhill, knowing he would find nothing. Knowing, that for now, his brother would be safe. Kili obeyed him without question, just as he always had, just as Fili knew he would, because Kili always trusted his big brother to keep him safe. In his heart, Fili felt he had failed in that task. No one but him noticed that Kili still favored his right leg, still limped when he thought no one was looking, still moved a bit slower than he usually did.
Fili wasn’t going to fail again. He would keep Kili safe and make sure his baby brother kept his promise to their mother.
He moved to the stairs as soon as Kili was out of sight, running up them as quietly as he could as he stayed on high alert for any signs of danger. It was quiet; too quiet. He thought he could almost hear his heart pounding in his chest. In his head he could hear his mother’s voice - Look after yourself - and it almost made him want to turn around and run after Kili to safety, but they were so close, so close to destroying Azog the Defiler once and for all. With him gone, they could finally go home. His mother could be a proper princess again. Thorin would be king. Kili would be safe. They could live in peace without the fear of being hunted.
He had to do this.
The glow of firelight stopped him dead in his tracks as he turned to continue down the corridor, but rather than warmth, it chilled him to his bones. This was a bad idea. He was outnumbered; he couldn’t fight his way through this and win. He needed to find Kili and get them both out of there and back to Thorin before things got worse.
He turned to go back the way he’d come only to stop dead in his tracks as firelight licked the walls down that passage, too. Trying not to panic, he whipped his head back and forth looking for a way out, only to be faced with cold, stone walls.
He was trapped.
The orcs set upon him like flies and his battle-honed instincts took over as he swung his sword, decapitating the first couple that came into view. He had a slight advantage in that the passage was narrow and they could only come at him a few at a time, but as their numbers were great and relentless, he began to tire from fighting on two fronts. A lucky blow to his hand sent his sword flying, the blade bouncing off the wall and dropping to the ground. The few throwing knives he had already lay embedded in the skulls of the first few orcs he had taken down, now buried under the bodies of more of the fallen creatures.
Weaponless, Fili resorted to his fists in a desperate attempt to fight his way to freedom. Another blow caught him on the left temple and he felt a warm trickle run down his face, even as the force of it knocked him face-first to the ground. Dazed as he was, and trying to shake off the throbbing in his head, Fili frowned. The orcs chittered and screeched around him as he pushed himself to his elbows and tried to get a knee under him. They should be moving in for the kill and ripping him to pieces by now, unless…
His vision cleared and he looked up into the face of the Pale Orc.
Azog growled low and guttural as he picked Fili up by the back of the neck, tugging sharply on his hair. He spat words at him in the harsh language of the orcs that Fili didn’t understand, but knew meant nothing good. The cold realization that he was going to die settled in the pit of his stomach, and as Azog dragged him along the passage, higher and higher, he tried to comfort himself with the fact that at least Kili was safe.
Fili stumbled as the orc that was at least twice his size hauled him roughly up the stone stairs, and as his knees scraped the ground, the stubbornness of his race to be subdued by another surfaced, and he struggled in the white orc’s grip, trying to break free. Azog’s claws dug into his neck, and he was lifted up as if he was nothing more than the ragdoll that Bard’s little daughter Tilda liked so much, before Azog backhanded him hard across the face. Dazed and with his head throbbing, Fili tried to shake off the blow as the large orc continued to drag him towards the edge of the landing. From below he heard the orcs’ war drums boom - once, twice, then in quick succession - and Azog’s grip shifted to his tunic.
He dangled uselessly in the orc’s grip while a dozen thoughts raced through his head. Kili. Kili had to be safe. He promised their mother. Well, one out of two promises kept wasn’t so bad, right? Down below, across the frozen river, he saw Thorin, flanked on either side by Dwalin, and Bilbo Baggins of all creatures. Good. Their Hobbit was alive; he would make sure Thorin and Kili made it through this day safely.
“Go!” Fili shouted, to Kili, to Thorin and Bilbo and Dwalin. He had to make sure they would be safe. But Thorin was shaking his head in stunned denial, and Bilbo seemed frozen where he stood. He couldn’t see Kili anywhere. They had to leave!
“RUN!!!” he screamed at them.
Pain lanced along his spine and exploded along his back before he even had time to gasp, and the last thing he knew before it all stopped was that he was falling.
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He was falling and he wanted to scream, but his voice felt locked in his throat and the only sound he was able to emit was nothing more than a pitiful wheeze.
“Fili!”
His arms flailed and one of them connected with something solid and warm, and his eyes snapped open even as he held on for dear life. He met wide brown eyes as he looked up at his brother’s face, framed by a shadowed leafy canopy that danced in the crackling flames of their small campfire. Slowly, Fili willed his breathing to even out.
“Kili…”
“I’m here, Fee. It’s okay. You dozed off, and I guess you had a bad dream.”
Fili sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face, groaning slightly. “I guess I did.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Kili was lying back down again, his fingers fiddling with something in his hand.
“I’m not sure how to describe it. Some of it’s already fading. The last thing I remember before you woke me was falling. I think it was from a tower, I couldn’t see very clearly.” He grabbed a long stick and stirred the embers of their fire up a bit more, watching the flames leap up.
Kili propped his head up on one arm. “Well, don’t think too much on it, brother, it was just a dream. Go back to sleep.”
Fili looked over at him hesitantly before letting out a tired sigh and laying back on his bedroll. The dark-haired prince flopped on his back, tossing what looked like a pebble into the air and catching it again effortlessly. Fili watched him, letting the motions of the stone and Kili’s hand soothe his frayed nerves. Now and then he caught a flash of blue.
“What is that anyway?” he asked.
“What, this?” Kili held up the stone towards the firelight so Fili could see, and the other noted the runes carved into it. “Amad gave me this. Said it was a good luck charm to protect me, and to remind me that she would be waiting for me to come home.” He smiled a bit wistfully. “I miss her.”
“We’ve only been on the road three days, Kee.” Fili’s blue eyes watched his brother. “I miss her, too, though.” He yawned.
“Here.” Kili pressed the stone into his hand. “Maybe it’ll keep the bad dreams away for the rest of the night.”
Fili softened as he leaned in and touched his head to his brother’s.
“One of us should keep watch.”
“We’re on the borders of the Shire. Ranger territory. Nothing’s going to harm us here. Besides, we’ve got a long day of travel tomorrow if we want to reach the burglar’s house by nightfall, so it’s best to rest now.” Kili replied. “You know if we get there later than Uncle-”
“We need to start calling him Thorin now, Kee.”
Kili let out an impatient sigh. “If we get there later than Thorin, we’re both dead.”
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Dead.
He should be dead.
But he doubted the journey to Mahal’s Halls of Waiting was accompanied by the shocks of pain that set his nerves from his head to his feet on fire. He also doubted it was supposed to be cold. He groaned, or tried to, but his throat felt like he had swallowed sand though he could taste traces of copper in his mouth. The pain coursing through him kept him from wanting to move his limbs. In fact, the only part of him that didn’t hurt at the moment were his eyes, and after squeezing them tight for a second, he started to crack them open.
Somewhere around him, something clattered noisily to the ground, and he winced as someone shouted.
“He’s breathing! Get a healer over here! NOW!”
He tried to focus through the haze of pain which seemed to start from his back and the back of his head, but even that sent of new waves of pain through him, that threatened to pull him under again.
“Fili!” Someone was calling his name now. That was his name, right? “FILI!” Yes, it sounded right. It had to be. He tried to focus his half-opened eyes on the speaker, the light hurting him too much for him to want to open them all the way. “Fili, stay with us, lad!”
He saw grey. There was a lot of grey. Was he slipping back under? Again he tried to make some sound to anchor him in the present moment, but all that came out was a soft wheeze, and it brought with it a memory of a time that felt so long ago now - of lying under trees around a campfire, with someone he knew he held dear to his heart. He remembered grasping a warm arm, and as if triggered by the memory, his own hand moved.
“K… K…” His throat was too parched for him to get anything more than a sound out.
“Keep still, lad. Keep still.” This voice was old. Familiar, but not the one he’d been hoping to hear. “Here, you! Fetch Gandalf! Durin’s Beard, this is hope unlooked for. Hold on for us, dear lad. Hold on. I’ve got you.” Something cold and wet trickled into his mouth and moistened his throat, even as he heard the voice mutter, “Wish we had proper water; the snow will have t’do for now. Where’s that blasted Wizard.”
He coughed as he tried to swallow, and then let out a weak cry of pain. He wasn’t sure how much more of it he could stand as he lay… wherever it was. He didn’t remember. Something warm covered him from above, even as the ground beneath him remained cold and just a little sticky, though he wasn’t sure with what.
“Oin!”
“About bloody time you got here, Wizard,” the voice beside him said. Oin. He knew that name. It was family, but not the name he wanted to hear. “Help him. He’s barely holding on.”
There was a shuffling of footsteps and he tried to turn his head to see who had come, only to have pain shoot through his skull sharp enough to give voice to another agonized cry.
“I cannot treat him here. I don’t have anything to stabilize him with, let alone the tools to start patching him up,” Oin’s voice was saying. “We need to get him out of the cold, or he’ll freeze to death before I can so much as put in a stitch.”
“Keep him still.” There was a power and warmth to this new voice that he just knew belonged to no Dwarf, and through his pain-hazed eyes he saw a white glow. “Much of my power was spent, but I will do what I can.” A warm hand was laid on his brow and the pain reduced to a dull ache though he still couldn’t move much. He heard whispering, but couldn’t make out the words. “Fili,” the voice called him, and his vision cleared a little more for him to look up into a pair of bright blue eyes. “Yes, that’s it, young prince. Come back to us.”
He wanted to follow that voice wherever it went. It made the pain go away and that was just fine in his book. The warmth spread from the hand, through his head and down his body till he felt as if he were cocooned in a blanket like he used to be when he was a baby asleep in his mother’s arms.
Sleep. That sounded nice. His eyes started to close again.
“Fili!” That was Oin’s voice.
“No!” the other voice was commanding. “Let him. We cannot move him otherwise.”
Sleep. Yes, that was something that didn’t hurt, so he let himself drift off, and as he did so, he remembered eyes again. Only these were not bright blue, but a warm brown.
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