Brothers in Arms
Kili's heart hammered loudly in his chest, beating without mercy or care against his ribcage; like a great beast wandering the plans, or the collective sound of hooves drumming against the cold ground. His eyes had been far too virgin to the horrors and decimation of war, and had seen far too few of winters. Had it not been for the taking of Erebor some many years before his birth, he likely would not have been here now nor would he have been thrusted into the middle of such a bloody battle and if he had ever seen war, it would not have been like this.
Kili had been born into this already damned world, his family already scarred. He had never seen the halls of Erebor before and yet, with the way his uncle had described it, he felt as if he knew the Dwarf home like he knew the very details of his recurve bow. The stories Thorin and his company would tell.
Oh, Mahal. Thorin.
He had lost so much in his life, only to gain back so few. The remainder of his family were those in his company. His nephews, Fili and younger brother Kili, were all he had to call his own. He had watched the slaughter of his own grandfather, and the disappearance of his father. The husband to his sister had lost his life during a raid and poor Kili had not even been three months in his mother's womb. The young dwarf hadn't the pleasure of knowing his father.
Had it been his way, neither dwarf brother would have ever seen battle.
Blood and sweat glistened Kili's brow, and a gash that had opened over his left eye had spilled the red liquid down the side of his face. He was tired, and hungry, and above all achy. His bones and muscles screamed at him in every which way they could, crying for some type of relief. But the youngest of the dwarves pushed himself on. He did it for his company, and for Thorin. Though he couldn't help but take the briefest of moments to look around the battle field at the damage already done.
His sword dripped with blood in an endless river of death. Arrows fired from the bow pertruded from the torsos and heads of many orcs. Dead wargs littered the battle field. It was difficult to tell among the dead who had once belonged to his race and who did not. There was far more to think about than just the dwarves; there were men and elves too.
But he did not stop for long. As waves of orcs poured onto the field of red, Kili raised his weapon and cut them down one by one. And all through his arms were beyond exhausted, he dare not give in or allow Mahal to take him. He had a job, and a purpose, one that he'd be damned if he did not carry out.
As a warg and its rider came at him, the grip on Kili's sword tightened. The large beast lunged for him and the young dwarf, being far slimmer and agile than the rest, dropped to his knees and slid himself under the large beast, bending himself back as the warg cleared overhead. Seizing this chance, he plunged his sword upwards into the broad chest of the beast. The animal dropped, bucking the rider from its dead hide. As Kili climbed to his feet and turned to face the rider, the orc in question had sneered and gripped the handle of his weapon even tighter.
The orc charged the young dwarf and swung his blade out for Kili's neck. Kili ducked under the orc's blade then brought his own sword up, slashing at the orc's side. The orc fell to his knees and in a final blow, the young dwarf cleaved head from body.
He turned on a dime when a scream he found all too familiar rip through the death cries of both dwarves and men and elves alike. Through all that bloodshed and gore, he looked to the north and caught sight of uncle being run through with an orc blade. From where he stood, it was impossible to tell where Thorin's body had been pierced but easy enough to imagine, and Kili didn't need either for his feet to start running. And as the orc hovered over the body of Thorin Oakenshield, Kili pulled his bow from his back and notched an arrow. He took aim at the orc's head and fired. Being of perfect aim, the arrowhead embedded itself in the orc's skull and the foul creature dropped dead to the ground.
Thorin twisted his gaze around to see his youngest nephew coming towards him, the horror of the battle written on his bloodied and bruised face. He almost smiled—had it not been for the orc he did not see on his left. Before his brain could contemplate what had happened, an arrow had buried itself in Kili's chest. And then another.
"KILI!" Thorin cried, and somehow summoned enough strength to grab for his sword and strike the orc down. The blade dropped from his hands. He pushed his hands against the muddy and bloodied ground in an effort to climb to his feet and reach his nephew, but pain had crippled him and he fell back against the rocks, his eyes rolling into the back of his skull.
His cries, however, had not gone unheard.
Fili, the elder of the two brothers, hearing his uncle's cries, had turned sharply after killing an orc to see his baby brother standing there amongst the dead. At first he thought nothing. Then to his horror, his brother dropped to his knees.
The older dwarf panicked. He ran through the battle field as fast as his small legs could carry him, hacking and slashing at orcs and wargs as he passed. He had somehow managed to reach his brother just as Kili's body was falling back, and was able to drop to his knees to cushion the young dwarf into his arms as he fell.
Fili looked over his brother's grave wounds and shut his eyes for seconds, though what seemed like hours. The younger looked up at his brother as he lay there in Fili's lap with his head of dark chocolate hair matted down by rain and blood pillowed in his brother's arms. "F-Fili…?" A single tear had escaped from the corner of Kili's left eye, and had mixed together with the dried blood coloring his pale skin.
The older brother opened his eyes and looked down into his brother's face. "I'm here, Kili." He watched his brother's chest rise, watched the arrows move with it, and could only imagine what sort of damage they had done. "You're going to be alright." He softly caressed his brother's cheek, spinning a lie so wonderful that even he had believed it.
"T-Thorin…" Kili's voice choked in his throat. "Uncle… is he alright?"
Fili looked up from his brother's body and saw their uncle laying unresponsive not more than a few feet from their position. It was difficult to tell whether Thorin still lived; Fili saw no obvious signs of life. His chest tightened. But looking back down at his brother, he decided a lie would be better. "He's fine."
Kili attempted to move but the crippling pain burning in his chest forced him back into his brother's arms. He coughed violently, a few spittles of blood coming up from his lungs. Fili pushed back the flaps of his brother's tunic and armor to inspect the wound more closely. The arrowhead buried itself deep within Kili's chest and from the looks of it, had pierced something vital.
Kili gave a lighthearted smile. "It's bad isn't it?"
"Take it out." He pleaded. "Please. It hurts. I cannot breathe…"
Fili was hesitant but his baby brother's misty eyes had cried to him, and it was hard to ignore him. So Fili curled his fingers around the arrow and tugged at it slowly. Kili cried and whimpered and kicked his legs. He grabbed for his brother's arm and tightened his grip, digging his fingers into Fili's tunic. The elder dwarf loosened his grip on the arrow and pulled his hand back. He looked into his brother's face and saw nothing but pain. Terrible, burning, white hot pain.
He cradled Kili's head and smoothed the underside of his right thumb over his brother's chin. More blood erupted from the young dwarf's lungs. Followed by an insane amount of wheezing. Every time Kili had coughed, blood spilled out of his mouth. Fili's heart jumped in his chest. He tried pressing his hand against Kili's wound to staunch the bleeding only to feel his brother's heart thrumming against his palm.
"We have to get you back. The elves… they—" Fili fought back tears, trying to remain calm for the young dwarf in his arms. "—they can heal you."
Kili struggled to keep breathing but the more he did, the more the pain flared in his chest. "I'm so tired, Fili. Can't I—can't I just close my eyes? For a little while?" He could no longer feel his legs.
"No. You must keep your eyes open, brother."
Kili swallowed a glob of blood that had formed in his mouth only to start hacking and the same glob to come spitting back out onto Fili's face. "I'm dying… aren't I?" His eyelids fluttered, lashes blinking back tears after tears.
Fili's heart dropped into his stomach. While he knew the situation was grim, it hadn't exactly hit him at full force until he heard his brother's words and realized there was no lie he could tell that could comfort Kili now. Swallowing a small lump in his throat, the elder dwarf brother nodded. "Yes." A single tear moved down Kili's face, and Fili brushed it away.
Kili – prideful, stubborn, obstinate – was scared. And his brother couldn't recall a time his baby sibling had ever been reduced to such a state. Never. Fili was always on the lookout for his brother, always protecting him, always doing what he could to make sure his brother was safe; but he couldn't protect him this time, and it killed him. His heart was dying. His soul was dying. How could he protect Kili – his baby brother, the one he shared laughs with around a camp fire, the one who would always get them in trouble as youngsters – from death? He couldn't. Maybe that's what terrified Fili; he couldn't protect his brother from death.
And when Kili started crying, Fili knew that he had to swallow whatever fears and torments bothering him to comfort his dying sibling. He gripped his brother's hand as tightly as he could. "Keep looking at me. It's alright. Look, keep looking at me." When he was able to get his brother's attention, Fili smoothed a hand over Kili's forehead in a very consoling way, in a way their mother would have. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
"You…you promise?" Kili asked, his voice trembling.
Fili nodded. "Of course. Just hold onto me. It will be all over soon." He continued rubbing his hand over his brother's forehead, and talking to him with a calm tone. He started thinking of other things that might comfort his brother and remembered listening to their mother's voice as she sung. Nothing was sweeter than her singing.
Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep, and caverns old
We must away, at break of day
To find out long forgotten gold
Kili looked past his brother's head, to something more invisible, more inevitable. Everything blurred together to create something of a different picture. That picture was fading fast. His eyelids were feeling heavier and his breathing grew more labored. Fili knew he was dying, but he had to finish.
The pines were roaring on the height
The winds were moaning in the night
The fire was red, it flaming spread
The trees like torches blazed with light
Kili's grip on his brother's hand went slack. He took his final breath and his chest went still. Fili could no longer feel his brother's heartbeat, and knew his brother was dead. He gathered his brother's body into his arms and sobbed into Kili's shoulder.
The battle raged on behind him. He kissed his brother's brow then laid him down on the ground. Grabbing his sword, Fili stood up and faced the oncoming onslaught of orcs with murderous intent in his eyes and a sneer about his lips.
"Come and get me."
This had been an idea I had in mind my after reading a few fanfictions of Kili and Fili's death. It has been many years since I've read The Hobbit so I honest to god don't remember much of anything from the book. I should start reading it again.
This is my first Hobbit fic. Hell, it's my very first LotR fic and I've been on this site since 2006. I do hope everyone liked it. My purpose was to make it as angst as possible. Please feel free to leave comments. I literally stayed up just to finish this. Now I go to bed!