In a moment, Lake-town is destroyed.

A town made of wood, even one on water, cannot withstand Smaug's fires for long. The entire place goes up in flames in minutes. They're lucky to escape, really. If not for Bard… but they make it. Smaug is dead, and the dwarves are pressing on. Fíli is desperate to know if anyone else has survived. They all are, but Fíli is in the lead, pushing them all onward, though he constantly checks on Kíli, making sure he can keep up. As always, Kíli stubbornly insists that he is fine, whether it be with words or a quick nod.

Fíli hopes he isn't lying.

—

Night falls, and the group stops for a quick rest. Óin builds a fire, and they all sit around it silently. Even Bofur doesn't say much; they're all lost in their own thoughts. Kíli is avoiding Fíli's gaze. He knows his brother is both concerned for him and annoyed with him—concerned because of his leg and annoyed because of his continuing flirtation with Tauriel. At least she is not with them now, though Kíli misses her red hair.

Everything has happened so fast. Kíli muses on the recent events: capture in Mirkwood, escaping only to be shot with a poisoned arrow, being left behind in Lake-town, almost dying, being healed by Tauriel, Smaug attacking, barely escaping. When he left the Blue Mountains with a stone in his pocket—it seems so long ago now—he had imagined a much different adventure. He had pictured himself as a hero, reclaiming a homeland he had only ever heard stories about, maybe slaying some orcs, proving his worth, his uncle being impressed with how well he handled everything. But he has not handled it well. He has been a burden and a nuisance and has been the one to get hurt worst of all. And worse than that is the thought that his uncle could possibly now be dead, burnt to a crisp by an angry dragon—and Kíli will still be a disappointment in his eyes.

Kíli cringes.

—

Fíli is watching his brother as best he can without looking directly at him. Whatever is going through his brother's mind, it isn't pleasant; he is frowning, and his eyes are downcast. They haven't spoken much since Smaug attacked—there hasn't been time. Fíli can barely think about anything else but getting to Erebor as quickly as possible. All three of his companions have turned to him to lead, and the thought that this leadership may be permanent is terrifying—he knows that he is the prince, but he does not yet know if he can be a king.

This must be how Thorin felt. The realization hits Fíli suddenly. A young prince, a home ravaged by dragon fire—at least Lake-town isn't (wasn't) his own home—and all eyes suddenly looking to him. The terror of the beast weighs heavily on his mind, though Smaug is dead now; still, he fears what he may find when he reaches the mountain. He fears having even more in common with his uncle than he already does. He remembers the look in Thorin's eyes whenever Smaug comes to his mind: the pain, the loss, the horror. The way his mother and his uncle look at each other when they speak of Erebor. Fíli never understood. Now he does.

—

Fíli is staring at Kíli now, and Kíli can feel it. He tries to keep his eyes trained on the fire, but his brother's gaze is burning stronger than the flames before him, and his eyes turn involuntarily. He meets his brother's gaze, and in a moment, their thoughts are one. Kíli sees Thorin in his brother's eyes; Fíli sees Dís in Kíli's. This is what has haunted their mother, their father, their uncle, their cousins, all these years. The calamity behind them is but a taste of what could await them, and neither one of them wants to have any more in common with their elders than they already do.

In a moment, they have become like the generation before them.

Fíli and Kíli cannot bear it. They both look back into the fire, and the moment passes. The feeling wanes, but it does not go away. Their lives have changed, and all it took was a moment. The moment they agreed to go on this journey; the moment they left their home with promises to return; the moment Smaug descended upon the lonely town in the middle of a lake. Another moment is coming—the moment they will find what Smaug has left behind in the mountain. There will be more moments after that, ones they cannot yet see. Ones they will never see coming.

"I don't know how they did it," Kíli murmurs.

—

Fíli knows what he means. How did they press on when so much bad had happened? Fíli and Kíli have never lost their home, but they have seen dragon fire and ruin, death and destruction. What awaits them in Erebor is a mystery, but if they only find charred remains—well, how do they carry on? How do they move forward from there?

"I guess we'll have to find out," Fíli says quietly.

Kíli looks at him sharply. "Don't say that," he says. "Don't say it like that."

Fíli doesn't answer. He continues to stare at the flames; they don't seem as malicious as the ones that burned Lake-town. The truth is he doesn't have much hope for those who made it to the mountain, but he has to know for sure. They all do. Even Kíli has been determined to press on through the pain, no matter what he says now. They're approaching a moment, and they don't know how it will shape the rest of their lives.

They've already changed so much in such a short amount of time. Fíli doesn't know how much more he can take.