A/N: Thank you for your lovely comments thus far! They always mean a lot. Here's a short update for today.

Fíli found himself watching Bofur somewhat more closely over the few days that followed. It was a handy distraction, something that drew him from his insular thoughts, and he learned a great deal. He did not know the toymaker well, nor his brother or cousin. Thorin, of course, spent many a month in his home, and by his friendship with them, Dwalin and Balin too. Their cousins, Óin and Glóin, were familiar faces through their kinship – in their youth, Fíli and Kíli had a great deal of fun hiding Óin's precious ear trumpet, using it inappropriately, and fill it with wax. The remaining six dwarves were unknown, as a whole, far from Thorin's closest friends.

A little examination showed why Bofur was the somewhat well-known toymaker he was – that childish humour he possessed was perfect for the role. He was always teasing, always joking, not least with his brother – and Fíli recognised that humour in himself all too well. It was not a surprise that the games made him smile, even when he found himself surrounded by his gloomiest thoughts. When the whole company shook with their roaring laughter, how could he not find his spirits lifted in turn? And when it was not himself and his brother causing that laughter, it was almost certainly Bombur and Bofur.

Bofur's humour sparkled, in his eyes, in his ready grin. His hands were agile, always with something to twist around his fingers or whittle, busy and fidgeting. Every movement and moment was twitching with energy and life, that the whole company seemed to draw upon.

When Thorin reminded them – as he so frequently did – of the sombre nature of their journey, and it dimmed their moods like a gravid cloud, the misery would slip from Bofur like rain off an oilskin. His smile set something warm in Fíli's chest, that reminded him of home – comfort, and the protection of four sturdy walls.

It was not as Fíli expected it to be – judgement or the fear that Bofur would tell his secret. The world did not end or even shatter a little. It was safe with Bofur. All that changed was a little more food in his belly, the occasional touch of a hand on his shoulder when he stumbled, or saddened, and a smile more often sent his way. If it was tinged with pity, he did his utmost to ignore it.

000

Their company and their breed were far too stoic to complain of the aches and pains that bothered them usually, only the occasionally grumble after a night on a particularly gravelly bed. Yet having been strapped tight to the roasting spit, elbows and knees seemingly multiplied, all gave voice to their grievances.

Kíli had been dragged across the ground in his sack, and nursed rapidly blossoming bruises with little grace. Fíli found himself looking after his younger brother, smoothing ointment over his skin.

"Hey, that stings!" Kíli hissed in protest as the treatment was applied to torn skin.

"You are no longer a child. Take your medicine without complaint," Fíli ordered him, a little sharper than he had originally intended. The minty scent of the light cream was, to him, soothing, but it was not his broken skin it was applied to. He had borne two months of sickness and nausea at near constant levels – Kíli could manage a little graze.

Kíli scuffed his boots into the dirt. "If you were more gentle, I would not have reason to moan."

The chuckle that statement elicited from Fíli was gruff. "Brother, you would gripe and grouse if you stubbed your toe. So stop shuffling and hold still."

"That is not fair," Kíli muttered.

"It is, and you know it." Fili had been teasing, but it seemed Kíli either did not think so, or thought it unfair for him to do so. He turned away from his older brother's ministrations, and shrugged his shirt back over his shoulders. "Do not waste the cream!" protested Fíli.

"There is no need for it, as I ought to bear it as the prim and proper heir of Durin that I am, feeling every wound inflected on our most noble race since since its establishment!"

To say Fíli was bewildered by his sibling's outburst was an understatement. He was speechless as Kíli stormed away in the direction of the ponies. Before Fíli could do more than re-stopper the tub of ointment and return it to his pack, there were rumbles and shouts, and they were facing danger all over again.

000

Fíli took the first chance he could get to corner his brother. Unfortunately, that was after a race and a battle and a meal, and another. Balin and Thorin had disappeared into a dark corner with Gandalf, and half of the company were readying themselves for a much-needed rest. The other half were smoking and softly singing. Kíli made to excuse himself to go to the room the elves had offered him, and Fíli followed unbidden.

From the stiffness in the younger dwarf's shoulders, it was clear that he knew Fíli trailed in his footsteps, but he did not acknowledge him – not even when Fíli entered his room and perched on the luxuriously soft bed. It sunk a little under his weight, and for a moment, all Fíli wanted to do was lean back and let it, warmth and sleep swallow him. He was so tired, for the trolls had kept them awake until dawn, but he supposed that was partially his own fault. His hands found his forehead, to take the weight of his head, elbows propped on his knees, as he waited for a sign from Kíli that he was allowed to speak.

All he could hear was the rustle of fabric, the clink of a metal buckle, the shuffle of Kíli's feet, booted then socked. And then, a sigh. The bed depressed at Fíli's side, and he waited for the angry words of before. He did not receive them. Instead, fingers found the hair of his bowed head, and began to undo his somewhat untidy braids, releasing the tightly bound hair. It made his head ache wonderfully.

Slowly, as his hair was unravelled, so too was his own tension, and he leant against the warmth of his brother at his side. The room no longer felt like a cloud hovered over them, waiting to burst. Rather more empty. Just empty and tired.

Eventually, Kíli ventured, "I did not mean to be as I was this morning."

"Then why were you?" Fíli could not help but be on the defensive. "I do not think I deserved it. My words were meant in jest."

Kíli was silent for a moment, clearly judging how to phrase his words. His fingers continued to card through the waves of Fíli's hair, more out of habit now his braids were all undone. "You have not been the brother I know these past weeks – since we left Bilbo's house, I think. You have taken Uncle's words to heart, I think, but you should not be like him."

In surprise, Fíli's eyebrows rose. His thoughts had been full of the child within him, not Thorin's lectures on duty and pride. But he supposed silence was silence. His usual games with his brother were not as appealing as before, seeming trivial, and that morning was not the first time had had brushed Kíli away as childish. He could understand why Kíli might draw that conclusion.

The continuing silence was making Kíli fidget, and after too many seconds had passed for his liking the impatient younger dwarf burst out, "Are you keeping something from me?"

Fíli's heart leapt in his chest, sudden fear and alarm. It was his chance to tell his brother everything – but he knew at once that he could not take it. Fear formed a solid barrier in his mind, and instead, he managed, "I did not mean to push you away. And I do not think I am better for being older, I swear, I have never thought that."

"Yes you have!" Kíli exclaimed, and the joviality had returned to his voice.

Fíli could not help but laugh too. "Alright, but no more than any other older brother feels he is better than the bratty little one that came after him."

Outraged, Kíli cried, "I am not a brat!" but he was laughing. Much more relaxed, he lay back on his head. "Well perhaps I was being."

Fíli turned, and for the first time met his younger brother's eyes properly. "This quest is hard on Thorin, and it is serious. We could have died twice over today alone." His hand crept towards his stomach as he thought of all the could-have-beens, but thinking of Bofur's words, he snatched it away after little more than a cradle at the reassuring weight. "If it sobers me a little, at times, then you must forgive me. It is not to do with you." It was entirely selfish.

000

An hour of jokes and cheering tales had vastly lifted Kíli's spirits, but not so Fíli's. Primarily, he felt guilty for making his brother worried and upset, and his own humour had felt half-hearted. That made him understand Kíli's point of view. He tried to engage, but there was always this nagging distraction in a corner of his mind reminding him that his joy was not complete. The child darkened everything.

Obsessed with his own thoughts, he almost knocked into Bofur as he rounded the corner.

"Woah there!"

"Sorry. Not paying attention," Fíli apologised in a mutter.

"I can imagine." The sympathetic expression that too often found its way to Bofur's face when he caught Fíli stretching out a kink in his back, or rubbing his eyes in tiredness appeared.

Something inside Fíli snapped. "Do not look at me like that! I am not a cripple."

"I know that," Bofur said, thick brows knitting in concern.

"Then, stop!" hissed Fíli.

Bofur watched him with wariness. "Do you want to come in and have a word?"

The gentle tone had Fíli's indignation melting away, and he deflated. "Yes I do." He was hurriedly ushered into Bofur's room.

"I told you, you could come talk at any time. No need to build yourself up into a state."

Fíli decided to ignore the judgement, as it was more reproving than accusing. "It is not that easy." When waved to, he took a seat in a light-coloured wooden chair that looked as if it ought not to be able to support his weight, but held him without a creak.

Bofur sat across from him, hands folding in his lap, quite at his ease. "Have you been at odds with that brother of yours?"

"Apparently. Without my knowing it." Fíli shrugged, a little helplessly. "I have been neglecting him, it seems. He is quite needy of attention at times."

"He is young," Bofur said, a little dismissively. "You both are."

"Too young for this," Fíli waved at his distended stomach, pressing at the confines of his shirt fabric as it was. A little abashed, Bofur opened his mouth as if to protest that was not his intention, but Fíli shook his head. "I know it is. I am."

A wry smile twisted Bofur's lips. "I had guessed you had not intended it."

Without the raging emotion and shock of their previous conversation, beneath dark trees, Fíli found it easier to talk, easier to sat his own thoughts into something coherent. And Bofur had been nothing but kind to him, the grating pity aside. "I did not tell Kíli tonight. I could have done, I had the perfect moment to, but I could not."

"Why not?" Bofur gently pressed.

Fíli knew the answer, it was on his tongue, it whirled his head, but it was a battle to finally say it. "If I told him, I would have to tell him what I intend to do. And that would require a decision."

Bofur tensed visibly in his chair. "What decision?"

"Not that!" protested Fíli. "Not what you think. I thought – but I could not. But I risk this child with each day that passes on this quest, yet I can not abandon Thorin. There are so few of us as it stands."

"He would not want you to risk an heir of his."

That startled a laugh from Fíli. "Would he not? Erebor is all he speaks of, all he thinks and dreams of. I do not think any cost it would take would be too much."

The exhale of breath through Bofur's nostrils indicated his disapproval. "You do him a disservice."

"It has always been that way. He could not tell us stories when we were young enough for them if they were not about those halls. It was all he would speak to mother of, though it pained her – he wanted her and us to know every detail of a home she left when she was ten years old, and we had never seen!" The last words were an exclamation, and he broke off, breathing hard.

Bofur could not restrain himself to his chair a moment longer, and he knelt at the foot of Fíli's chair. His hand found Fíli's knee, and he earnestly said, "You can not leave your Uncle's side. You can not go alone through this. So we must ensure this is no cost."

Desperately, Fíli cried, "How?" His voice wobbled as much as his emotions.

But Bofur was clam, and his voice soothing, as he promised to keep Fíli safe, as he promised the situation was not either-or. Fíli allowed the words to wash over him, and tried his best to believe in and accept the help offered to him.