The mini-muse has been checking my aol inbox nonstop for the past few days. It seems to be tragically lost without one or two reviews to open like presents. So to satiate it I drew names (literally) and picked the first Dwarf that came up to torture in a oneshot. I wound up with the most unexpected person ... and somehow it turned into a Fili and Kili angst fic. (Go figure.) Still, it does have a tiny bit of ouch for that one Dwarf, and he gets a semi-prominent part in this fic. :3

I do not own The Hobbit or anything related to Tolkein's works.

Enjoy! (And feed the mini-muse. The poor thing is starved for comments.)

Like maddened dogs they stood before their fallen king, lips pulled back in snarls of defiance as their swords danced in the sunset like crimson panes of colored glass. Above them the Pale Orc scoffed, arms spread out in mock surrender as he sneered down upon the senseless puppies which bared their teeth at him. Around them hoards of Orcs and Goblins circled like black ants, those who were not engaged in combat jeering in anticipation and awaiting the succulent taste of Dwarven flesh.

A howl of denial resounded from Thorin as the two princes surged forward as one, dark and light taking their last stand before the evil which threatened the line of Durin. His lip curled in derision, Azog sidestepped out of the reach of twin flashing blades and swung his club towards Kili's head. For an instant it seemed that the blow would strike true and the fight would be lost without a struggle. At the last minute Kili plastered himself to the ground, grunting as a discarded knife blade pierced between two plates of his armor. Fili shouted out, dodging the backswing of Azog's club and struggling to retain his own footing even while he glanced sideways towards his brother.

Wrenching to his feet, Kili snarled like a wild animal and stabbed towards Azog's unprotected ankle, the clash of Fili's swords as he was driven back distracting the Pale Orc long enough for black stained metal to drive into his lower leg. The pain was little more than an insect bite in Azog's blood lust, and with a growl of rage he kicked away the pest which had dealt him the blow. Tumbling head over heels, his sword lost in the mayhem, Kili shook the stars out of his eyes and grasped for the closest weapon he could lay his hands on. Fili's cry tore through his heart and he screamed his brother's name as Azog's club slammed down upon Fili's upraised swords, smashing one into shards and breaking the other in half in a single devastating blow. A sharp crack resounded and Fili's face drained white as his right arm was snapped against his ribs, the force of the strike driving him to the ground in a haze of agony.

Wrath could not describe the white hot vengeance that drove Kili to his feet, blood pounding in his ears as a strangled yell was torn from his throat. His hand closed on Orcrist's hilt and he leapt to his feet, the Elvish blade flashing in wide, inarticulate sweeps intended to maim and sever. Fili hollered his name and Thorin shouted in horror, but the sounds were but whispers against the roar in Kili's ears. Azog's leer widened and he beckoned the enraged Dwarf forward, yellow eyes gleaming with sadistic triumph as he taunted his prey. Without hesitation Kili thrust his blade towards Azog's stomach, the faintest glimmer of hope that he would succeed filling him with a surge of adrenaline.

The slam of Azog's metal hand against his chest drove the breath from his lungs, dribbles of blood streaming from the puncture marks in Kili's armor as he was thrown aside like a broken toy. The world spun in a cascade of browns and blacks and the sun seemed to tilt on the wrong side of the earth before Kili's head struck against his brother's armor and he slumped listlessly against Fili's side. He heard Fili call his name frantically, before the elder stumbled to his feet, his face drawn with pain as he brandished the sheared remains of his sword and brandished it at the enemy. 'Was it only seconds ago that Fili fell?' was the vague thought that drifted through Kili's mind as he blinked stars from his eyes and fought back the persistent veil of darkness.

Fili's brave charge lasted only an instant before a Goblin's misdirected spear rammed into his shoulder. He groaned and fell to his knees, clutching at the wooden shaft as Azog regarded him with calloused disinterest. Before Kili could voice his terror the Pale Orc hooked his metal hand around Fili's throat and lifted him high into the air. He tilted his head and examined the strangling Dwarf, narrowing his eyes shrewdly as though studying a peculiar insect. His intrigue waned quickly and he raised his club, intending to bash in the prince's skull and scatter the blood stained golden locks across the ravaged battlefield.

In his distraction he neglected to ensure the other Dwarf was incapacitated. Silver was suddenly tarnished in a flood of black liquid, the stub of Azog's sword arm gushing dark blood as a roar of pain and fury filled the air. A hand and wrist thudded to the ground at Kili's feet as he swayed, his expression livid before he dropped Orcrist and flung out his arms to catch Fili as the elder tumbled to the ground. Falling back in a tangled heap, he grabbed his brother under the arms and scrabbled backwards, dragging Fili along with him as hatred melted into terror and he found himself helpless against the malevolence in Azog's burning eyes.

Blood loss and certain death were not enough to daunt Azog from his mission; the line of Durin had proven too resilient for him to slink back into the shadows and nurse his wounds a second time. This time he would maim and destroy; rend and crush; break every bone and tear every ligament until they were nothing more but writhing masses of pulverized flesh begging for him to end their torment. Metal claws stabbed into bone and Kili screamed as he was dragged forward by his leg, the sensation of red hot pokers impaling his limb rendering him senseless as Orcrist slipped past his grasping hand. The claws tore free and re-embedded in his shoulder, a shriek of anguish resounding in Kili's ears long before he recognized the voice as his own. Grey tinged to white and he knew that he would die at Azog's hand, separated from his brother and so bitterly, horribly alone.

The axe swung out from nowhere it seemed, cleaving past the black spike of Azog's protruding arm and hacking the remains of his elbow from his shoulder. The bellow of agony which followed was more terrible than the screeches of Orcs around them. Pale, hate filled eyes met Kili's as the Pale Orc stumbled to his knees, a last vehement curse spewing from his lips before the notched blade struck again and the vile creature's head rolled in the dirt.

There was no thought in Kili's mind so as to wonder who had killed Azog. His gaze was riveted on the unblinking eyes of the corpse for but a moment, before he twisted onto his side and crawled to reach his brother. Dazed, pain filled blue eyes locked onto his own and Fili clawed out with his unmaimed hand, grasping onto his brother's forearm and dragging Kili towards him. A muted cry was wrenched past clenched teeth and Kili pressed his forehead against Fili's shoulder, gasping as rivulets of living fire overwhelmed him in an encompassing wave of agony.

"K-Kili?" Fili whispered, his voice hitched and broken as he weakly shook his brother. "Don't ... don't fall asleep, Kili. ... Kili?"

Turning his head to face his brother, Kili forced a wane smile and slung his arm across Fili's chest, already feeling the tides of darkness pulling him away. "T-together?" he whispered, knowing for certain that they could not possibly make it out of this alive.

Like a lancing blow, despair filtered into Fili's gaze and he shifted his broken arm, shamefully swallowing back a pained whimper as he attempted to pull Kili closer to him. "...Always," he assured.

His vision swam and Fili blinked away tears, begging to know why. He would gladly have sacrificed anything for his Uncle, but not Kili. His little brother was never meant to be caught up in this horrific carnage. Tears slipped unbidden down Fili's cheeks and he pressed his forehead against his brother's, weeping not for his own wounds nor the battle waging around them, but for the loss of something pure and innocent that was never meant to be involved in this war.

"S'okay, Fee," Kili whispered, wiping the moisture from his brother's cheeks and silently beseeching that Fili promise him one last time that everything would be all right. His voice wavered and broke, and he ducked his head under Fili's chin as hot tears of his own flowed. He remembered the sun glowing warmly over the Blue Mountains; the sweet call of their Mother's voice as they ran to meet Thorin returning from the forges and returned together to a place called home.

What are we doing here? he wondered with a pang. How did this happen to us?

He cried out for an answer, but his hands grasped only useless silt as hopelessness filled him. They would die here together, and their lives would be lost in vain. Erabor would fall, the armies would be swept under a black wave of evil, and this time Fili would not be there to smile and bring a twinkle of joy to their Mother's worn, tired eyes. They had lost, and there was no bitter triumph in their defeat. They would die for nothing.

"F-Fili!" Kili stammered, terror engulfing him as he clenched his brother's hand in a desperate search for one last form of security. His brother squeezed back and pressed their clasped hands over Kili's eyes, as though to protect his little brother for the final time as the enemy drew closer and Fate denounced the remaining heirs of Durin's line.

Blood streaked gauntlets suddenly grasped the two children under the arms, their cries of pain lost in the throes of battle as they were dragged away from the downstroke of an Orc scimitar. His axe was lost, and blood streaked down his hands from a thin blade and an arrow driven through one arm and the opposite shoulder, but he had not forsaken them.

Murky clouds distorted Kili's vision, and it was not until the world righted itself and he found himself in the shade of an overhanging boulder that he was permitted to see his rescuer's face. An exclamation of joy broke free as Bifur gestured wildly, indicating Fili's wounds and jabbering in his broken language to discern which brother had been hurt worse. Kili could not help himself. The harrowing tension finally broke free and he began to laugh, tears streaking through the grime coating his face. He scooted forward until he could cradle Fili's head in his hands, laughing until he wept and then crying until the tears would no longer come. Shimmering blue eyes met his and Fili weakly squeezed his hand, the same insane hope shining in his gaze as the wings of Eagles overshadowed them and the cry of victory rose from the allied forces.

They had won, and they had lived. They had all lived, and they had not failed. For Kili, this was enough. The crippling of his brother's arm; the permanent limp which would impair Kili until the end of his days; the wince that would cross Thorin's features as internal scars pained him until death at long last spirited him away - none of it mattered. For Fili was alive, and they had not lost. They were together, and that was all Kili had ever wanted.