AN: I do not own. Sad Day.

WARNING: This contains allusions to SLASH. Don't like, don't read. You have been warned.

My head canon of Valinor is a little wonky, sorry. Also, seeing the future in dreams and bonds between brothers are actually things in Middle Earth, so not all of this is a weird plot device.

This is a companion piece to A Bead of Silver and Weight

Fili and Kili were not blind. They saw the looks that passed between their uncle and Mr. Baggins. They may, or may not, have capitalized on the two adults' distracted state more than once. Such was the nature of their lives.

But there was no such levity as the brothers gazed across the firefly flicker of campfires in the valley below. Bilbo was gone, thrown out of Erebor, and their uncle had shut himself in his room, refusing to talk.

"There will be battle tomorrow, little brother."

Kili merely grunted in reply, staring out into the dark. He could feel the weight of the coming day hanging heavy in the air. Never having been one for omens, he nonetheless felt a sense of dread and loss. It was disconcerting, a feeling of a dream that slipped from memory but left the dreamer screaming in fear.

"Kili, Uncle took out Mr. Baggins's braid."

That roused Kili from his brooding. He looked at his brother then, a frown chasing across his features. The feeling of a dream grew. It did not bode well for any involved parties. He sighed.

"I guess it's time. Can you feel it?"

Fili nodded, no flicker of mischief in his eyes, the weight of the dream feeling heavy on his mind as well. The two brothers embraced, clapping each other on the back, foreheads together in a silent moment of mutual grief. Then they went to their room and slept one last time, the way they did as lads, curled into one another. For once, neither dwarf dreamed of a small figure and their braidless uncle lying motionless beside one another on a battlefield.

The next morning dawned red. The brothers said their final goodbyes to the others, in ways that no one looking back could mistake. The older dwarves laughed them off, attributing it to nerves, but Thorin saw. Thorin, who had watched his nephews grow, and knew the nightmare that stalked their dreams, nightmares of death and separation. He saw, but by the time he thought to do something, it was too late.

The hardest thing Kili ever had to do was step onto the battlefield that last morning. Noting his discomfort, Fili pulled him aside by the arm, resting his forehead against his brother's, ignoring the tears that threatened to spill. He repeated their plan, one last time, divide and protect their uncle and Mr. Baggins, no matter the consequences and despite the pain.

"Whatever happens, little brother, I will see you on the other side."

That was the last coherent thing Kili heard before the battle commenced. Orcs descended upon the valley, and elves, men, and dwarves alike fell in their onslaught. In the rush, he lost sight of Bilbo, gone in the blink of an eye. And then he felt it, a searing pain in his chest, like someone had ripped out his heart. He frantically scanned the battlefield and, as if in a terrible vision, saw Fili, standing over their Uncle, shoving an orc off his blade, only to collapse from the knife in his own gut.

Everything was a blur after that, he lost count of the enemies he slew trying to reach his brother. He didn't even notice the arrows trained upon him until he was kneeling over Fili, tears streaming down his face. Then the pain increased tenfold, and he closed his eyes in grief, if only for a moment…

The sounds of battle receded, becoming nothing but a dull roar and then finally fading entirely. Cautiously, he opened his eyes to find his brother gazing at him from across a stone room, tears glinting in his eyes.

"I'm afraid our dream was right on one count, little brother. He hasn't much time left."

He motioned to a stone bench, where the prone form of Thorin was flickering in and out. Kili crossed the room and sat by his brother, head resting wearily on Fili's shoulder. They waited, long hours passing before Thorin's form became solid and his eyes flickered open. The older dwarf blinked once, and then an expression of sheer horror and grief that his nephews had never seen the like of crossed his face. He sat up, and the brothers noted that Bilbo's braid was back in his hair, as if he had never removed it. Thorin drew in a shuddering breath, swallowing the sob that threatened to spill forth.

"I gave Bilbo a silver bead," he choked out.

And the brothers understood. Mr. Baggins had survived and had forgiven their uncle, but the cost of war had been too great, and separated too many far too soon. But as the three members of Durin's line stepped from the dark halls of their ancestors into the brightly lit valleys of Valinor, the brothers were sure in two things.

No matter how long it took, Bilbo would find their uncle again, and he would still have the bead.

AN: Please review. I know it's not as good as the others, but please review.