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Dwalin stood on top of the gates and watched the wasteland below. It would take many years to get it back to the glory it once was. He sighed and was turning around when a little group of figures caught his attention. Lads! Thorin had been beside himself with worry if they’d managed to avoid dragon’s wrath.
“Thorin!” he shouted and soon his old brother in arms was standing beside him. “Fíli and Kíli are coming here. Bofur and Óin also”, he continued and Thorin squinted his eyes against the sun to see better. Kíli seemed to be still sick, he was lying on stretcher while others carried him. King smiled warmly, he had waited this moment so long and couldn’t wait to show his nephews the glory of Erebor.
“Open the gates!” he shouted down, where Balin and Bombur were on watch. Thorin wanted to be careful, just yesterday that human – Bard – had been there to demand part of the treasure along with Elven King, hence the extra watch. “Welcome, lads!” they heard Balin say warmly as Dwalin and Thorin made their way down from barricades. They couldn’t hear answers but soon enough they were down and Thorin spread his arms, smiling widely at Fíli.
“Fíli, my lad! Welcome home!” Thorin’s smile fell from his face when his nephew didn’t answer, just watched ahead with unseeing eyes. Heavy stone dropped to Thorin’s stomach as he turned to look his other nephew. Óin was kneeling beside Kíli’s stretcher, head bowed down and eyes closed. And Kíli was too quiet. Too unmoving and pale. Thorin took a staggering step forward.
“No… No.” Óin lifted his head and watched his king with teary eyes. “He didn’t make it, Thorin.” Everything fell quiet around him as his life narrowed down to his nephews. Fíli was now kneeling next to his little brother, openly crying and others came closer after hearing the commotion. Ori was clutched between Dori and Nori, crying quietly and Bilbo sat a little far away, hugging his knees for support. Thorin fell to his knees next to Kíli, afraid to touch him.
“Uncle…” Suddenly Fíli was hugging him tightly, face buried in his chest. Thorin hugged him back tightly, not taking his eyes off Kíli. It was like waiting him to suddenly stand up and laugh at their stupidity – just like he did when he was a dwarfling. “Kíli, please…” Thorin wasn’t sure if it was him of Fíli who said it, but suddenly he was clutching both his nephews to his chest. Other shaking with violent sobs and other cold as stone.
“I’m so sorry, Thorin.” Dwalin put his hand on Thorin’s shoulder, knowing no words would help him now. He gave a little squeeze and then backed off, waving others to do the same. They needed to mourn in peace and no words or actions would help them.
“It happened so fast”, Fíli told quietly so only Thorin heard him. “Tauriel – “ Fíli hiccupped and then swallowed. “She came there and tried to help. It worked, Kíli woke up – “
“Kíli woke up for a moment”, Óin explained, coming closer, when Fíli couldn't continue. As company’s physician it was his duty to tell the news. “But then orcs came. They interrupted the healing and – it was too late after we got rid of them.” He looked at his feet and then at Thorin. “I’m so sorry. We came here as soon as we could after Bard killed dragon. Thorin, there’s an orc army marching here. And we heard a word that Bard and Thranduil are gathering armies.”
“Let them come” Thorin growled. “I don’t care. Not anymore.” Balin glanced at Dwalin, who had bowed his head in sorrow. Just a moment ago Thorin was ready to march to war just to keep his gold. It seemed everything had it price and now it was Kíli’s life.
***
The room was dark as Fíli sat on cold stone floor.
“Finally a moment of peace”, he sighed. “We’re finally home, Kíli”, he continued sniffling.
“You should have seen the throne room, it’s magnificent.” He smiled a little and wiped tears from his cheek, looking around. “You really should have seen it. Not this cold, damp… tomb.” He paused for a moment and then continued. “Thorin’s a king now. And I’m officially his heir. You’d have laughed at how I look. All jewelry and ridiculous clothes.” Now he sat quietly for a long moment, thinking how things were now. Their mother was on her way to Erebor and other dwarves from Iron Hills were coming home. Fíli had written her a letter, telling about Kíli. She would have guessed something was wrong when there was no happy post script from her youngest son complaining of something what Fïli had done.
“I miss you brother.” He leaned his forehead on cold tomb and run his fingers over the text Here lies Kíli, son of Dís. Prince of Erebor.