Chapter 3 : Awakening

Author's note: A lot of research has been put into this story, especially on the medical side of things. I've tried to make everything accurate, but since this is Middle-Earth and not our world, I've played a bit with what medical knowledge of this time would be. If anything seems out of place, just remember that Bilbo Baggins had a pocket-watch and indoor plumbing while they were still fighting with swords and shields and no one had heard of a bomb before.

Fíli refused to leave Kíli's side for any reason. As soon as they had brought him in and laid him down, Fíli had pulled up a chair and sat in it, and there he had remained for the past six hours. Kíli had not awoken since he lost consciousness in the woods.

He had wanted to make Kíli as comfortable as possible, with warm, soft blankets, but Óin had forbidden it. Just enough pillows to elevate the upper half of his body, he'd said. The tube that Óin had inserted remained in Kíli's chest to keep the lung from collapsing again, and it needed to stay uncovered. It had taken Fíli the better part of an hour to look at it without feeling an uncomfortable ache in his own chest and a queasy feeling in his stomach. Thorin had built a warm fire in the fireplace of Fíli and Kíli's room, and when Fíli wasn't keeping close watch over his brother, he was making sure that the fire stayed hot to keep Kíli's uncovered body warm.

The guilt he felt was immense. How had it come to this? Before the sun had risen, the day had seemed so perfect. Now it was by far the worst day of his life.

And it was all his fault.

The weight of his own inadequacy was slowly crushing him. He was still waiting for Thorin to express his anger towards him, an event he was sure was coming and dreaded. His mother didn't even know yet. The thought clenched his stomach. His poor mother… he would understand if she never forgave him. He knew he would never forgive himself. He stood up from his chair to stoke the fire, wrapped up in his thoughts. He tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach and watched the flames dance in the hearth.

A moan from behind him grabbed his attention, and he was instantly at Kíli's side.

"Kíli?" he said quietly.

Kíli's eyelids fluttered open at the sound of his brother's voice. Fíli laid a hand on his arm, and the younger dwarf turned his head towards the touch.

"Hey, there," Fíli said. He couldn't help smiling. He'd been entertaining the fear that Kíli would never wake.

"Hi," Kíli said weakly, returning the smile. His expression suddenly changed as he tried to take in a deep breath and wheezed painfully. His brow furrowed and his eyes widened with panic as he tried again with the same result. Fíli put a hand on his stomach to calm him.

"Light breaths, Kíli."

Kíli nodded and lightened his breathing into short, shallow breaths. He relaxed as his body got the air it required, but Fíli could see the pain crossing his face. It tore at his heart ferociously.

"How are you feeling?" he said meekly.

"Been better," Kíli replied with a cheeky grin. It faded quickly. "It hurts," he added.

"I can get Óin to mix you something," Fíli said, already starting to rise. "Would you like me to get him?"

Kíli nodded, his eyes closed against the pain. Fíli stepped out of the room and into the kitchen, where Óin and Thorin sat at the table, talking in grave voices. They both looked up as he entered, surprised to see him away from Kíli's side.

"Kíli is awake," he said. Thorin started up immediately and moved past him into the bedroom. Fíli shrank back as he passed, but Thorin paid him no mind. He stood quietly for a moment, looking down at the floor as Óin eyed him quizzically.

"He's in pain," he said finally. "I didn't know if you had anything you could give him. For-for the pain. And he isn't breathing well."

"He won't breathe well for at least a couple of weeks, but I can certainly give him a draught for the pain," said Óin.

"Thank you."

Suddenly, there came a cry from the bedroom. Fíli's heart jumped in his chest and he dashed into the bedroom. Thorin was holding Kíli's hands at his sides, and Kíli was panting wildly, clearly distressed.

"What happened?" Fíli exclaimed.

"He saw the tube in his chest," Thorin said gruffly. "Wanted to take it out. Kíli, lad, stop struggling. You cannot remove it. It has to stay."

"It hurts," Kíli grunted through gritted teeth.

"Of course it does, but it's keeping pressure off your lung so you can breathe," snapped Thorin. "Now, stop this nonsense."

Kíli obeyed, letting out a hiss between his teeth and glaring at the ceiling. Thorin let go of his arms slowly; Fíli leaned back against the wall and let out a sigh of relief. Óin entered moments later with a bottle of dark liquid.

"Óin, please take this tube out," Kíli begged as soon as he saw him. Óin simply shook his head, and Kíli's nostrils flared in annoyance. As Óin approached the bedside, Kíli turned his head away.

"Don't be a child, Kíli," Thorin scolded.

Óin studied his patient for a moment, and then opened his mouth to speak. "Do you know what a collapsed lung means, young Master Kíli?" he said.

Kíli shook his head.

"It means that air has escaped from your lungs and into your body. The pressure outside the lung collapses it, and the only way to relieve the pressure is to allow the air to escape. That is why there is a tube in your chest, and that is why you must not remove it."

Kíli remained silent, fuming.

"Stubborn lad," said Óin affectionately. "I've made you something for the pain. Come, drink it. Slowly, now."

Kíli accepted the draught and then leaned back into his pillows, refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room. Fíli could tell from his demeanor that Óin's warning had gone in one ear and out the other, and he feared for his safety; he resolved to keep a vigilant eye on him.

"I'd like to talk to Kíli privately," Thorin said suddenly.

Óin nodded. "I'll take my leave now," he said. "I'll be at my home if you need me." He stepped out, nodding to Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli separately. Fíli lingered, reluctant to go, and Thorin turned to face him.

"Fíli, go," he said. "I will speak to you afterwards."

Fíli's stomach flipped upside down; he knew that this had been coming. He quickly left the room and shut the door behind him, then ran outside, using the walls as support as the fear balling in his stomach caused him to physically bend. He was done for. What would Thorin do to him? Scream at him? Beat him? Publicly denounce him as heir? He felt that he deserved it, but he didn't want any of it. He wanted this whole damn day to disappear. He wanted to disappear.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pipe, eager for the relaxing properties of pipe-weed. He searched his pockets for his bag of tobacco, but he had none; he groaned and went back inside to find it. He checked the usual places in the kitchen where one of the three smokers usually left some pipe-weed, but to no avail. His was surely in his room, but he couldn't go in there right now. He briefly considered lifting some from Thorin's room when the door to his and Kíli's room opened and Thorin stepped out. Fíli froze, afraid for a moment that his uncle would know his thoughts and get him for that, too.

"He's asleep," Thorin said. "Must have been a sleeping draught. Óin's a clever dwarf."

"He's not just pretending, is he?" Fíli said.

"I've known him just as long as you have, Fíli."

Fíli felt heat creep into his cheeks. Of course Thorin would know if Kíli was pretending. How dare he doubt his uncle?

"Sit."

Fíli immediately obeyed, stuffing his pipe back into his pocket. His stomach was twisted in knots. He wanted to apologize, to grovel, to plead for mercy, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he remained silent. Thorin sat across from him and leaned back, crossing his arms. He studied his young nephew, who fidgeted nervously under his piercing gaze.

"I trust you understand just how serious this is," Thorin said.

Fíli nodded almost imperceptibly, waiting for the shouting to begin.

"Fíli, look at me, lad."

He brought his gaze up to meet Thorin's slowly.

"You know that it is my duty to be as a father to you. I promised your mother that when her husband – your father – died. I don't take that responsibility lightly… but I also do not consider you a burden."

This was not the direction Fíli had imagined at all. He searched Thorin's eyes, looking for some clue to what this all meant.

"I know that I can be hard on you, Fíli. You and your brother, but you especially as the eldest. You set an example for him. He looks up to you."

"I know," Fíli said, so quietly that he was practically mouthing the words.

"Kíli told me what happened. He feels quite guilty, you know."

"He what?" Fíli said. Why would Kíli feel guilty? He hadn't shot Fíli with an arrow. He hadn't nearly killed – or quite possibly actually killed – his only brother. What could he possibly feel guilty about?

"He was foolish," Thorin continued. "He told me that he moved into range of the bow and put himself in danger. He knows better than that." He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. "I've taught him better than that. And you, shooting without considering the path of your arrow?"

Fíli lowered his gaze and sank down in his chair. Here it comes.

"It's common sense, Fíli. You don't shoot when your comrades are in front of you. It's a perfect way to – well, for this to happen."

The knot in Fíli's stomach rose into his throat, and tears stung the corners of his eyes. He hid his face in his hands, ashamed of his weakness and unable to speak.

"But – it was an accident."

Fíli looked up, surprised.

"Uncle?" he said, unsure now.

"The situation is dire, and the consequences may be great, and yes, it was very foolish – stupid, really – but burying yourself in guilt will not make Kíli better."

Fíli could hardly believe what he was hearing. No shouting? No beating? Nothing?

"But, Uncle, I—"

"Have been punished enough," Thorin finished. "As I was saying earlier – I may be hard on you, Fíli, but I look on you as a son. I've seen the way you shrink in my presence, as if you are expecting me to strike you. I know you feel guilty, and I don't blame you, but I would that you were not afraid of me."

Fíli felt as if a great weight had lifted off his shoulders, but the lump in his throat grew larger. A tear spilled from his eye and he wiped it away quickly, embarrassed.

"Thank you, Uncle," he whispered. Thorin nodded sagely and offered him a comforting smile.

"Go to him," he said. "I'm sure you want to be at his side, and he will want you there if he wakes."

If he wakes. Fíli knew what he meant, but he also knew what it could mean. He stood up and returned to his and Kíli's room, reclaiming his place at Kíli's side. There he stayed for hours, only moving to build the fire. Kíli's chest rose and fell irregularly, but at least it was moving at all.

* * *

It was late in the evening when Dís finally arrived at home. Fíli could hear her humming as she entered and the clank of coins on the table from her day of selling trinkets in the neighboring human villages.

"Dís," came Thorin's voice rumbling through the door. "I need to speak with you."

There was a pause. "What's happened, Thorin?" she said.

Thorin explained to her the events of the day in a hushed tone; Fíli could not make out what he was saying, but his mother's horrified sob was unmistakable. He cringed. He hated to hurt his poor mother, who had already lost so much – her grandfather, her father, her husband, her brother Frerin… Fíli found himself wishing solely for his mother's sake that Kíli would not die.

Thorin was speaking again, surely words of comfort, and then Dís's voice rang clear – "Let me see him."

Moments later, Dís entered the room. Fíli looked back at her and met her bloodshot eyes. She slowly walked to the bedside and placed her hands on Fíli's shoulders; he put his right hand over her left and rested his cheek on top.

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"He's been asleep," Fíli said. "Oin gave him a sleeping draught… he was causing trouble."

"He's always causing trouble," said Dís, and Fíli smiled. Typical Kíli. She sat on the side of the bed and stroked his hair gently.

"He's strong," she said softly. "He is of the line of Durin. He will survive. I am sure of it." She placed her hand on his bare chest. "His heart is strong still."

"I'm sorry, Mother," Fíli said, his voice cracking.

Dís turned to face him and took his face in her hand. "You didn't mean to do it," she said. "I do not blame you."

Fíli let out a shuddering sigh and leaned his head into her palm. She stroked his cheek with her thumb and smiled.

"Thorin tells me you've been here all day," she said. "Go – get some fresh air. I'll sit with him for a while."

Fíli got up wordlessly and retrieved his pipe-weed from the mantelpiece. He snuck past Thorin, who was staring into the kitchen fire, and slipped outside into the cool air. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep.

He packed his pipe and then pulled his tinder-stick out of his pocket, lit it on the lantern by the door, and brought it to the bowl of his pipe. The fire went out before the leaves could catch, and he tried again – once again, the light went out. A burning frustration sprung up in his chest as he tried one more time – and again, the light went out.

Fíli tossed the pipe roughly and shouted a dozen curses in Khuzdul, his voice breaking with every curse he uttered. He leaned back against the doorframe when he was done, his anger spent.

"Oh, Kíli," he whispered as he sank to the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut and choked out a sob, and this time, he allowed the tears to fall.