Why hello! For all intents and purposes, by human-maturity standards Fíli is 19-20 and Kíli's 17-18. In reality that puts them at 49, and 44 respectively.

Also, this is Pre Bifur-has-an-axe-in-his-head. Maybe we'll find out how that happened! *Thunder crash for effect*

This is my first time writing on a Tolkien; so if there's some law of Middle Earth that I neglect or something, let me know!

Happy reading!

1

The Caravan

"Hey! Catch!"

Fíli spun around just in time to snatch an apple that was sailing for his head. He raised his eyebrows at Kíli's impish grin, still feeling the sting of the apple's impact on his palm.

"You looked hungry," he explained, shrugging his shoulders. Fíli's eyebrows stayed up.

"The back of my head looked hungry?"

Kíli just smiled wider until his brother eventually bit the apple and turned around, shooting one more warning glance in his direction.

Around them the dozens of covered wagons creaked and groaned against the dirt road of the mountain path. A caravan of merchants was carrying their cargo to the northern sect of the Blue Mountains where Thorin and several other dwarves were temporarily employed in a town that Kíli couldn't remember the name of. From what he could gather, there was going to be a festival there in the coming months to honor some fancy lord for some reason or another. Honestly, at the time it was explained Kíli was eating. And it's always difficult for Kíli to listen when he's eating, especially when the food is good. And it was.

Apparently.

But what was really important was that the merchants needed to be escorted to the northern sect, and since the more seasoned dwarves were either already at the destination or covering for those who were gone, the task fell to the younger generation of dwarves to take on. Being that they had just recently celebrated Fíli's 49th birthday, this was the first real mission the boys were entrusted with without their uncle or mother present. It was a chance for them and their peers to prove themselves to their elders. It was a shot at freedom. It was an adventure. It was…

Well, it was dusty.

Really nothing more exciting than a broken axel had yet happened, a task that they were all a little too over qualified for. Gimli insisted that they weld a new spike to keep the wheels attached to the axel, while Ori insisted they needed to use rope to bind the broken ends together. Kíli wanted to use glue. Fíli wanted to use the perfectly good spare axel the merchants brought with them incase such a predicament would occur. The disagreement came to blows, so in the end they used the glue, rope, and a roughly hammered spike to repair the wagon they destoryed, and replaced the axel with the spare.

"Everyone wins," Kíli had said, throwing his hands into the air when their task was complete. He got a face full of mud for that.

The merchants seemed not to be bothered by the dwarves, however annoyingly eager they may be. Most of them were just happy to have able and willing protection against the goblins that were rumored to inhabit the mountain pass.

All except one, a large man named Brent. His section of the caravan seemed hard and quiet in comparison to the rest of the group. Whereas many of the wagons were adorned with colorful fabrics and golden trim, Brent's clan moved in shades of brown and gray. They didn't play music or sing songs; they merely glared ahead at the road. Kíli once expressed how they unnerved him to Fíli, who seemed to agree.

"Oi, laddie, gimme a hand!" Bofur called to Kíli. Bofur and his cousin Bifur were amongst the merchant party so that Bifur could deliver his coveted toys to the north. Their wagon was compact and covered with assorted sheets that were roughly stitched together to form a comical patchwork that suited the pair just fine.

"What do you need?" Kíli asked, watching with a smirk as Bofur shoved all his weight into the back of the wagon and pushed until he turned red.

"Wheel's stuck," he grunted, giving up his push. "Let's lift it up, shall we?"

Kíli nodded and slipped his hands under the wagon, waiting for Bofur's cue. "Ready?" he called from the other side.

"Ready!"

"Okay…one, two, three, lift!"

The two huffed and puffed until the wagon's wheel bumped over the large crack with a sudden lurch. Kíli stumbled backwards until his back collided with something solid.

"What the—" he twisted around and realized that he had fallen against someone's legs. A tall someone. Someone who did not look entirely pleased to see him.

Brent's oversized hand grasped the back of Kíli's jerkin and hoisted the boy to his feet and then some. Fíli—who had been watching the ordeal—visibly tensed when Kíli's feet left the ground. But they returned to it a moment later, and the only damage done was to Kíli's pride and the neckline of his shirt.

"Pardon me, Brent," Kíli grumbled, rubbing his neck grudgingly. The large man grunted in reply and moved forward a few paces to escape the whelp.

"He is charming," Millí commented from beside him, crossing her arms over her chest. Millí was Ori's cousin and protector, since the boy tended to lean towards scrolls and books rather than knives and axes. She had gold hair, green eyes, and a substantial beard that she kept in fine beaded braids laced with feathers. Kíli absent-mindedly rubbed his whiskery chin whenever she made an appearance.

"Delightful," Fíli contributed, coming to walk beside them. He tossed a new apple to his brother as a gesture of goodwill and then tossed his core off the path. "Hello Millí, you're beard's looking especially magnificent today."

"I wish I could say the same for you," she said back, tugging on the small braided mustache Fíli was so fond of. Kíli laughed at that, which only got him a look from both of the fair-haired dwarrows. "Like you should be laughing!"

They walked together in comfortable silence until the sun set and the merchants started whispering about making camp. Then Gimli appeared before them, smiling widely through his thick red whiskers. "Aye you three!" he called to the brothers and Millí. His eyes lingered on the female dwarf a little longer than necessary before he continued. "Come meet Ori and me up at the Bortly wagon, they've got the ale out and—"

Gimli was suddenly pummeled from the side by a horrible gangly creature, eliciting a simultaneous cry from his companions.

"GOBLINS!" Bofur shouted and terrible screeches rang out through the night. The caravan switched into action, children ducking into wagons and everyone else either drawing swords or calming the livestock. Kíli took a moment to marvel at their organization when Fíli crashed into him from the side.

"Oi!" the younger grunted, twisting around to see a goblin at the end of Fíli's sword, baring its teeth. With a clumsy twist of his blade, the older dwarf managed to pull the blade from its gut and take off its head.

Goblins were pouring from the trees around them, seeming to appear out of nowhere in particular. Fíli managed to roll off of Kíli and lurch towards Gimli, only to find that Millí had already defeated the goblin that attacked him.

"I have to find Ori!" she exclaimed before taking off into the chaos. Gimli was instantly on his feet and tearing his axe off his back, nearly hitting Fíli in the process.

"I'm goin' to go help her," he grimaced, sprinting into the crowd.

"Just don't accidentally murder her," the blonde prince grumbled.

A few paces back, Kíli had decided that the time for his bow had passed and was now wielding the large sword his uncle had given him not five years ago. It was clumsy work, but he managed to slay two goblins that were going for the wagons.

"You should clean up your foot work!" Fíli called, slashing a goblin across the gut.

"And you should raise your elbows!" the younger called back.

Roughly an hour later Kíli momentarily stopped fighting to watch his brother. Fíli seemed to be holding his own with his twin blades, but goblins were pouring in from the trees in a steady stream and it was all becoming overwhelming. Most of the merchants who took up weapons were beginning to feel the fatigue setting in and could barely wipe the sweat out of their eyes before having to raise their sword again. The children who were too old to hide and too young to fight sat on top of the wagons and fired arrows into the night with questionable accuracy. The amount of good they actually did was lost when they ran out of arrows.

Kíli growled and slammed his sword into the chest of another greyish beast, flinching away from the blood that splattered his face. He pivoted and raised his arm in time to deflect a whip that was meant for his back. He glared at the goblin holding the handle and then grunted as another body slammed into him from behind.

Instantly the dark haired dwarf lost his footing and went sprawling down the short side of the cliff until he collided with a bundle of scraggly trees. Whatever had hit him didn't follow down the slope.

The sound of the battle raged just above Kili, but all around him was peaceful quiet. It created an eerie sensation in his stomach. He was just in the thick of that horrible noise, and now he's not, and no one seemingly noticed. It would be so easy to lay low until it was over.

Uncle Thorin won't be able to help you this time, Kíli realized. They were alone, completely and utterly alone. If they failed the caravan now then there would be no way to redeem themselves and no one else to blame.

Wait...how did I get here?

He was back in the campground amongst the flailing goblins and shouting fighters. His sword was held slack beside him and his bow trampled into the mud where he'd originally been tackled.

"Kíli!'

Fíli's cry echoed over the noise of the battle but it was too late. Searing pain cut through the younger's shoulder, causing him to cry out. Then, realizing he was being taste-tested, the dark-haired dwarf ducked forward to his knees, sending the biting goblin sailing overtop of him. It landed heavily on its back and writhed until it was crouched before him, baring its bloody teeth menacingly. Kíli had never seen a goblin with such a wide mouth before. It leaped at him but this time he was ready and skewered the creature with his knife.

After that the battle was quicker work. The merchants and dwarves worked together to defeat the string of goblins that were assaulting their party until they stopped flooding in from the trees. Archers fetched new arrows and took to the trees to find any straggling monsters while the others began the recovery process.

The silence was chilling as the fighters' ears still rang with the noise of the combat. Children stepped cautiously out of the wagons and got to work bringing water and bandages around to the wounded. Several wagon covers were torn and the cargo spilled, so those who were able went to help clean and repair. Once again Kíli found himself awestruck by their organization and discipline.

"Kíli!" He turned around to see Fíli stumbling up to him with dirt and goblin blood caked to his face and hair. "Kíli, how many did you get? I think I must have killed twenty, if not more," Fíli's eyes were bright and his breathlessness only made him sound more excited, "Lost track after a while."

Kíli smiled at him and shrugged, the motion causing him to wince. Fíli's smile faded, "Are you alright?"

"Sure I am," the younger said brightly while turning away from his brother's examination. "Let's go make sure the others are alive."

It took a while to find their friends with all the organized chaos swirling about them. But eventually they found Millí talking soothingly to a hyperventilating Ori. Gimli stood protectively nearby.

"Still want that ale?" Fíli asked him with a smirk, tugging on his ginger braid.

"More than you could imagine," he huffed, not taking his eyes off the trees. "Are you two alright?"

"We're fine," Kíli answered for them, setting a hand on Ori's shoulder. When the timid dwarf didn't calm down, Millí gave Kíli and nod and he forced Ori's head between his knees until his breathing evened.

"I'm fine," Fíli amended, scrutinizing Kíli. He opened his mouth to say something back when a younger human girl came into their group carrying a bucket of water and bandages.

"Medic," she called in a singsong voice, "Does anyone need a medic?"

"You're a healer?" Millí looked at the girl incredulously.

"No, I am."

A greying woman with uneven eyes and wiry hair hobbled behind the young girl, her shawl drawn tightly around her hunched shoulders. Millí let out a breath behind her teeth, not seeming to be relieved by the change in circumstance.

"I think we'll be alright," Gimli answered, helping the old woman pick through the fragments of a broken crate. She studied him intensely and then forced him to sit down on the ground across from her.

"Light, please Isa," the woman said curtly. In a moment the young girl struck a flint and took up a torch, holding it next to Gimli and the healer.

"It's important not to ignore your injuries when it comes to goblins," the elder scolded, "Villages in these parts have been absolutely ravaged by a string of Goblin Fever the likes of which hasn't been seen since the Second Age."

She dipped a cloth into the water bucket and started to clean a small cut on the red dwarf's cheek. Millí scoffed and crossed her arms. "Goblin fever? Fairy stories, nothing more."

"Oh no, she's quite right lassie," Bofur interrupted. He walked beside Bifur with arms laden with mugs of ale. "We've all heard the stories. Goblins with yellow dots on their skin, infecting the good peoples of the mountain with a horrible disease."

"Aye," Bifur agreed, pushing a mug into Fíli's hands, "Boils. Hallucinations. Bad stuff they say, very bad stuff."

"Stop it you two," Millí hissed, waving her head towards a quivering Ori, "You're scaring him."

Bofur laughed heartily and plopped himself down next to the young dwarf, thrusting a half smoked pipe into his mouth. "Smoke this lad, it'll calm yer nerves." Ori looked at him with wide eyes and inhaled deeply. Bofur smiled at him and patted his shoulder. "But it won't prevent Goblin fever from melting the skin off yer bones."

The old woman snapped her fingers over the sound of Ori's coughing. "You're ignorance will get you killed," she said venomously, pressing too hard against Gimli's cut. "It's not something to laugh at, it's a terrible affliction. It destroys families and levels cities. It does not discriminate against gender or age or race. It will kill any and all that it is able, so you'll do well not to take it lightly."

Fíli looked over at Kíli who had visibly paled. He nudged him with his elbow and gave him a smile. "Relax, Kee. She's just a kooky old bat. I've heard of Goblin Fever and it's nothing more than the flu."

The dark dwarf nodded once and watched as the old woman pulled Millí down next to clean up the marks on her hands.

Before the woman could ensnare the brothers, they were dragged off by a merchant name Helen to help set her tipped wagon. And once their hands were put to work, the jobs came in an endless stream. Fíli's hands lifted, hammered, tugged, pulled, and pushed until he felt like he single-handedly assembled the camp himself; but his eyes never left his brother. Kíli was keeping pace with Fíli, but it was clear to him that something with wrong. He was giving a valiant effort to hide his pain, but Fíli knew him better than he knew himself.

It wasn't until dusk that Fíli's suspicion was confirmed. The sun just beginning to rise, creating an eerie glow over the convoy.

"One more lads, then you can rest," Petry, a clothing merchant, told them with a merry grin. The brothers lined up next to a tipped wagon and gave each other an exasperated look.

"Alright. One, two, three."

With a great heave, the boys raised the wagon off the ground, first to knee level then with another lurch, just above their shoulders.

Fíli was unprepared for all the weight to fall against him as Kíli cried out, dropping his share of the wagon. The wood frame creaked and groaned until Fíli's arms shook too much and let it fall roughly back to the ground. Kíli was wincing and holding his shoulder, not noticing his brother's sharp gaze falling on him.

"Kee…"

Petry came over with a shocked look on his face, inspecting the wagon from any broken beams. Fíli rubbed the soreness in his hands and smiled apologetically at the man. "No more, I think," he said, gesturing towards Kíli. Petry nodded quietly and allowed Fíli to haul his brother up and drag him to a campfire that was all but abandoned by the sleeping merchants.

"Sit," Fíli ordered, pointing to a log. Kíli glared at him but complied, his hand not leaving his shoulder. He was tired and hungry and really just didn't have the energy to argue.

"Come on, move your hand," Fee said, his voice gentler than before. Kíli slowly dropped his hand and let his brother examine the wound in the dim light.

"I knew it, I knew I saw that one goblin tackle you," Fíli muttered, his fingers brushing the punctured holes in Kíli's jerkin. "Take this off, we need to get that cleaned before it gets infected."

With some grumbling, Kíli pulled off his layers and tried not to appear cold as Fíli went off to find a healer. He returned with the graying woman who did not look at all pleased to be awake.

"Got yourself bit, boy?" she asked grimly, sitting down in front of him with her bucket and a cloth. Kíli smiled at her shyly and tried not to wince when she poked the flesh on his shoulder.

"Mahal Kíli," Fíli muttered, glaring at the blood that dried in rivets to the left side of his arm and chest. Teeth marks ringed his shoulder with puffy red punctures wounds. Not deep, but red and painful.

The healer—who they learned was named Thal—continued to prod the area around the bite until she elicited a hiss from Kíli. "It's bruised," she concluded, taking her hand away, "Bruised and weak. But not infected yet as far as I can tell. It shouldn't need stitches if you keep it bandaged for a while."

"Great, let's just get this over with then," Kíli grumbled as she dipped her rag in the bucket and started scrubbing at the dried blood.

"Just think Kee, if that leaves a mark you'll have managed your first real battle scar," Fíli offered with a wry grin. His brother didn't respond immediately, and even when he did it was only a slight smirk.

Something's wrong.

The young dwarf let out a gasp as Thal tore a fang from the back of his shoulder, holding it up to the light in fascination. Fíli dropped down to sit beside his brother, keeping a wary eye on the old healer. "Well, just be glad we caught that!" she laughed, tossing the tooth nonchalantly into the trees. Kíli sighed and dropped his head into his hands while Fíli patted his good shoulder. Thal finished cleaning and dressing the wound with nimble fingers and stood the moment the bandage had been knotted.

"Now, get some sleep whelp," she ordered, pointing to an open wagon laden with vegetables. He looked at his older brother who nodded encouragingly before stumbling off to the inviting wagon. Normally he'd sleep on the ground by a fire, but since daylight was nearly upon them he would have to make do with something mobile. Fíli watched him go and then turned around to thank the woman, surprised to find her face an inch from his.

"You watch him closely lad, you hear?" she hissed, leaning in so that their noses nearly touched. "Keep a sharp eye on him. I'm telling you, there is something foul about these northern mountains, mark my words."

And with that she was off before he had a chance to recover himself.

She's gone, you idiot. Wake up.

Fíli shook his head and gathered up Kíli's shirt and coat from the log. The sun was now fully up and most of the mess had been recovered, so the merchants were eager to move forward. In two more days they would reach the town, and after the goblin attack no one was particularly keen to stay on the road. With a heavy sigh he climbed into the vegetable wagon and found Kíli with his head propped against a crate of turnips. He tossed the shirts over him without a thought about waking him. Nothing would wake Kíli before he was ready to be woken, and that was a fact.

"Sleep well, brother," Fíli sighed, sitting against a burlap sack of carrots. As the convoy began to move, the blonde dwarf made sure to keep one hand on his sword and both eyes trained on the trees.

I will not fail; I will not let those fiends hurt the travelers or Kíli again.

All right! Author time!

I got this idea from a book I'm currently working on where Goblin Fever is a very real thing (In a massively different context! Hurray!). To accommodate my story I had to cut down the symptoms, but rest assured our favorite dwarves will understand it to its full wrath in this story!

I will try to update as soon as the chapters are finished. The (dun dun dunnnn) finals are coming, so I can't promise production consistency. But I will try!

Also, Gimli's young in this, so imagine him if he were hot and we'll go with that.

Also also, I have no beta. So grammar and I have a good relationship verbally and mentally, but sometimes the fingers get slap happy and well, stuff happens.

Sorry.

Be nice.

Please read and review!