Chapter Text
For as long as he lived, Fíli would never forget Mirkwood.
It was a thousand hostile sounds; the creaking of boughs and the clicking of insects. His boots sunk into a carpet of decay, lending greater danger in a place where a turned ankle or unlucky fall could mean catastrophe. Overhead, the trees pressed down with branches like arms, hearts like maws, and a smell like death. The hated forest path, which they had abandoned days ago, was now lost, and they could not find their way back. Despair crept in as hunger bore into lean bellies, and those who had entered the forest as proud dwarves began to quiver as paranoia seeped in around the real threats.
The menace was bad enough during the day, when through the green murk one could at least tell friend from foe. Yet at night an absolute darkness shrouded them, so black and terrible that no one could rest. When the company did attempt to sleep, Fíli and Kíli wedged themselves side by side, each grasping a weapon.
Distracted by otherworldly eyes all around them, Fíli wasn't aware his brother was awake until he felt the brush of stubble against his ear. "We should never have left the road. He doesn't know where we're going."
There was no longer any doubt they were going in circles. Earlier that day, they'd found Bofur’s lost tobacco pouch ahead of them on the path. At that time, Fíli looked to his uncle, just as the others had, and when they saw Thorin’s ashen expression, the group had dissolved into shoving and panicky cries. Thank Mahal for Bilbo. Their halfling friend seemed not so affected as the rest of them. He climbed a tree, and when he descended, speaking of breezes and butterflies, the mood had calmed. Still, the memory of Thorin's bewilderment was terrible, and Fíli didn't wonder that Kíli was dwelling on it.
Unwilling to speak ill of their uncle, yet understanding Kíli’s need for reassurance, Fíli turned onto his side so he could face his brother. "Do you remember the time we were lost in the foothills of Ered Luin?"
Fíli imagined the twitch of remembrance that had surely found its way onto Kíli’s face. "No one could find us, but you never panicked."
"Neither did you."
"I knew you would get us home," Kíli said.
Fíli’s brow notched, he remembered that first encounter with the full weight of responsibility he would carry; the knowledge that the fate of someone other than himself would be decided by where he lead. Yet, although that childhood forest had seemed so vast – as vast as Mirkwood to his inexperienced eyes – he had been anchored by his brother’s fist, knotted around his tunic.
Fíli continued, "Four days we chewed on dandelions, trying to find a star we knew – and cursing. You would not stop swearing, Kíli, do you remember? I thought Thorin was going to skin you alive during that phase, all while he was damning the Westerners for their influence. And then, when we were finally so weary we could barely walk, we found that village."
Kíli’s teeth set with an audible grind. "I'll never forget that village."
Fíli swallowed past that memory. "Yes, but Thorin found us, didn't he? Didn't stop for a bite to eat or a moment's rest." This he knew from Balin's stories, related to them in safety, when they were finally returned home. A true smile found its way onto his lips. "And that, in spite of his reputation for having no sense of direction."
Kíli stifled a snort. "Balin despairs of him, you know. The heir of Durin, wandering bemused under a few trees, in full view of the sun."
The brothers, who had been reared as much in the wilds as in halls of stone, shared an incredulity that such a thing was possible. "Better that our ancestors dwelt underground, I suppose."
"But we aren't underground now," Kíli said, all levity gone.
Fíli exhaled, a puff of breath not unlike the caress of the huge black moths that whispered past in this withered wood. He knew his brother did not mean to be rebellious, but his natural temperament was as turbulent as their uncle's, and regrettably his willfulness extended even as far as Thorin sometimes. Fíli himself refused to be anything but certain. His own faith was a carefully cultivated thing, and he allowed no vein of doubt to weaken it. They would be free of this forest. They would reach Erebor. Thorin would never relent until it happened. Groping first to find it, he squeezed his brother's wrist. “He’ll get us out of here, Kíli."
The pressure of Kíli’s answering grip put his heart at rest. The situation might seem dire, but it would take more than a comfortless forest full of fierce black squirrels and a poisonous stream to undermine the confidence they had in one other. Comforted now by the breathing of his comrades, by Kíli’s warm shoulder, by the familiar squeak of a glove around the leather hilt of his weapon, Fíli allowed his eyes to drift closed.
In the small hours of night, when the shadows themselves were cloaked by deeper shadow, Fíli awoke to a whisper like a cat’s paws padding over flagstone. He raised his head, though he could see nothing, not even the ridge of his own nose before his face. His body, wearied by the near-constant hallucinations, longed to lie back, but restlessness plucked at him. Straining, he listened to the pitch black, but all was silence, silence...
It was then that Fíli realized it was the silence which disturbed him. Where had the threatening calls and creaks gone? Fíli’s fingers curled around his weapon, fully alert. He opened his mouth to speak a warning, but before he could, the leaves exploded outward, and in their wake, great beasts broke in upon the company. Fíli had the brief impression of jaws and of gleaming dagger-like points affixed to many, many legs, and then a heavy body pinned him with its abdomen, shrieking in his face even as he raised his arm to parry the greedy, rasping mouth. He cried out when it dodged his clumsy defense and buried its fangs into his forearm. He struck out, aiming for the eyes, and it released him, but the burning pain remained, along with a light-headedness that almost prevented him from staggering to join his companions, now locked in combat.
Their horrified cries joined the unnerving shrieks of the spiders – huge, monstrous spiders. Moved by instinct, Fíli barely dodged the singing, deadly arch of Bofur's mattock, and he heard Ori's baleful wail of fear and rage as he fought, no doubt with little but his hands since his catapult would be useless in this murk and confusion. Dwalin's roar and Glóin's furious bellow rang out, but Thorin he did not hear, and even in the midst of battle, Fíli’s mind turned to those whose backs he could not put against his own and whose bodies he could not shield. He thought of Bilbo. Was someone with him? Was Kíli?
The spiders were fearsome opponents, and they had the advantage of terrain. They swarmed from the trees, which were coated with loathsome webs. Some strands caught Fíli’s wounded arm, and he yanked free. A hissing enemy hemmed him on one side, then another, moving so fast that even with their glowing eyes Fíli could not follow their movements. He swung blindly, trying to drive them back, but they were too ravenous, too fell, too ferocious.
At that very moment, Fíli heard his brother's cry. Desperate, he turned in that direction, but a spider's leg swept his knee and hobbled him. Then he was down, pressed suffocatingly into the underbrush. A penetrating pain pierced his side, and he screamed. Then the darkness filled with bulbous yellow eyes. His companions’ voices faded, and Fíli knew no more.
The world was a sober grey twilight without shape or form. Fíli drifted like a cork on the sea, bobbing at first upon and then under its waves, at times aware of himself – Fíli, sister-son of Thorin, brother of Kíli – at others only a dim, flickering being, swollen with dark waters. There was no air but the faintest, most infrequent breath, and that breath was like a dagger which Fíli swallowed greedily before the waves bore him down again, into deep coma.
Then suddenly pain poured in, and Fíli was seized by oxygen. He was no longer in the ocean, but in a tree: hanging, poisoned prey. There was a burning feeling in his chest as small hands tugged at the webs binding him. Blistering faerie lights spotted Fíli’s eyes, and his limbs jerked as he tried to free himself.
Bilbo pressed insistently against his chest, hissing, "Stop squirming, Fíli," and Fíli caught sight of a blade.
It required all his willpower to remain still as Bilbo sawed, and even more to keep from vomiting when he was finally hauled onto a branch. Bilbo rubbed circles into his back in a soothing but urgent rhythm while he fought nausea, the pain of the spider bites making him tremble all over. Fíli pawed feebly at his eyebrows and nose, but the sticky mess would not come free, and meanwhile Bilbo was speaking, coaxing, pressing one of his own knives into his hand.
Understanding came, and Fíli moved like an old man down the branch to the next captive. By now his wits were returning. They had been attacked by spiders. One of these bundles was his brother, the others his kin and companions. With fumbling hands, he hurried to haul another up with Bilbo, cutting the web until Bofur's red face was revealed, his thin moustaches caked and white. The older dwarf coughed and struggled, but Fíli held him down until his rolling eyes steadied.
On down the line, the others emerged. Most were barely capable of movement; Dori could do little but dribble bile down his chin, and Bombur fell to the ground below, rolling onto his back and moaning. Finally, finally, Fíli found dark hairs tangled in a web. Only when Kíli’s face became visible, his lips almost blue but his eyes already blinking, did Fíli breathe again. He gripped his stupid, heavy little brother against his shoulder and panted with relief.
"I'll get the last," Bilbo said, leaving Fíli to deal with Kíli, who was still regaining consciousness.
"Don’t move," Fíli commanded, busy using his knife, his fingers.
Kíli stopped straining and sagged against his brother. A short cough made it out of his throat in place of a laugh. "Knew you'd get me out."
Fíli rasped through gritted teeth. "You knew no such thing. We'd all be dead if it weren't for Bilbo. We might still be dead. The spiders are distracted, but they'll be back."
"I can't feel my fingers," Kíli muttered. "Numb all over."
Fíli gave him a push, hoisting them both to their knees so they could begin their unsteady climb to the forest floor where the others were gathering. "As long as your toes are working. We have to get out of here."
Kíli giggled. "Bifur only has seven, you know."
"What?"
"Toes."
Only filial benevolence kept Fíli from shoving his brother off the branch and watching him knock his idiot head on the way down. As it was, Kíli lost his footing at the final approach and – grasping Fíli’s jacket – sent them both plunging the last few lengths. Dwalin snatched Kíli up by the collar and put him on his feet, thrusting a rock into his hands. Fíli saw his old mentor’s face in the eerie phosphorus light put off by the webs, grim but aware. More aware than the others, some of whom were barely upright.
The unnatural cries of the spiders reached them, echoing as they came closer. Fíli took new grip on his knife, but Bilbo chose just that moment to appear. He shoved them, shouting at their backs. "Run. I'll do the stinging. I said run, you fools!"
So they ran, headlong through a corridor of darkness that bent under their poisoned legs and lashed about their swimming heads. Soon the spiders swarmed, darting in to bite and strike with their legs. Fíli retaliated, guarding what he thought was their flank. He knew that at one point a blazing blue sword joined them, snapping about and driving their foes back for a moment, but there were always, always more.
Their flight seemed to last forever, and the forest seized their minds again, twisting everything into an ever growing circle. Fíli’s lungs heaved. "Kíli," he cried in a wavering voice, wanting to hear his brother say his name. He reached out his hand, his vision tilting crazily, but though the shadows warped around him like the figures of his friends, his fingers went through them like mist. Finally, he dropped to one knee, and once again, every light went out.