Disclaimer: No, I do not own the Hobbit or anything related to Tolkein's works. If I did, the whole thing would be about Fili and Kili and there would be a lot more "Awww!" moments.

Silver glimmers in twisted strands, the light of hundreds of torches flashing against sapphires woven into the precious metal. The circlet is too heavy for Kili's taste, and he hates that inside the corridors he can no longer feel the cool breeze swish his hair back. There is a lack of freedom in the walls of thick stone. Lately he has found himself running outside for longer periods of time. Fili tries to understand, but he cannot grasp the deep sense of claustrophobia that causes black spots to swim before his brother's eyes whenever he stays in the dim hallways for too long. Fili was made for Erebor: he feels as comfortable in the heart of the mountain as Kili in the high limbs of a cedar. He would be a good king one day.

Kili wonders if he would ever be a good king, or even a good prince. He hopes that Thorin will still be proud of him, even if he fails in etiquette and social graces. The king is too busy now for Kili to expect a gracious smile whenever he makes a perfect shot or teases a grin out of his brother. He thinks he might have won a nod of approval when he bested Thandruil's son in archery, but if there was anything it was formal and brisk: a quiet note of acknowledgement kept subtle so as not to be taken as an insult by their guests. Kili wonders sometimes if he had imagined the gesture.

He slips out of the hidden passageway in the mountain at last and tosses his circlet aside, breathing deeply of the pine scented air. His clothing is too itchy and cumbersome, and Kili gladly discards the fur trimmed robe and heavy gauntlets of silver. Rings set with large stones only make his hands clumsy and awkward: he quickly throws those into the pile. Thick belts studded with gems are useless and tedious to unlatch, but eventually he is free of them. His sword and his bow are all that he needs.

For a moment Kili stares into the forest and it is not the pines of Erebor he sees, but the sparse trees of the plains near Rivendell. He closes his eyes and he can almost feel the sun bearing down on his head, and smell the musty scent of leather, sweat and sun-baked wheat. His clothing is too fine for gallivanting through the wilds now, and there are few orc scouts left to be wary of. Wispy memories of a simpler life make him sigh, and he finds himself wishing for a bowl of Bombur's undecipherable but succulent stew and a dry, choking hunk of... No, he supposes he would not miss the cram - not even for the sake of memory.

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, Kili grabs onto a lower branch and hoists himself into a tall oak. Adrenaline shoots through him and he clambers higher before he can think, fearful memories of sharp, snapping teeth and the jeers of orcs causing him to flee to the upper limbs. Catching his breath is an effort: Kili gasps for air and squeezes his eyes shut, clinging to the flimsy branches near the top as he tries to wipe the memories of scorching heat and the terror of falling from his mind. His leg throbs and he scrubs at the old wound, remembering all too well the day Fili had to practically drag him into Laketown after an orc ambush nearly cost him his life.

It didn't help that you tried to kill yourself hardly two weeks after, Kili berates himself with a frown. More dark memories fill his head: the screams of Elves and horses and Dwarves and a thick cloud of smoke blotting out the sun. Black and crimson blood as far as he could see, and the stench of death cloying his nostrils. Blinding pain causing white to crash into his vision as he fell against Fili, relieved to know he would be joining his brother soon and he would never have to say goodbye again. Agony forcing him to wake under a healer's care. Sobs exploding like fire in his wounds, as he stared into Fili's terrified blue eyes and saltwater trickled in streams off their clasped hands.

Kili brushes the back of his hand against his face, aghast to find it soaked in tears. Muffling a sob in his sleeve, he presses his face into his hands and trembles. Mahal, he wants to be home, where Mum would have hot stew and rolls ready for supper right now and their too small, rickety house would be cozy and safe in the glow of the fire. Thorin would be smoking his pipe and remembering, while Kili would jostle Fili's elbow and try not to grin. Fili would scowl and nod his head towards their Uncle, and Mum would purse her lips and then wink and sneak Kili an extra thick slice of bread. It would be simple and it would be safe, with no howling monsters or pale orcs tearing them apart from one another.

The memory of blood glinting on Fili's hair is enough to cause Kili to break down against all his efforts, and he buries his face in his arms and tries desperately to forget their mad, terrible adventure.

"Kili?"

Jerking his head up with a gasp, Kili looks around frantically before his eyes settle on his older brother. Fili is standing at the base of the tree, his hands fiddling anxiously at his sides as he watches his little brother cry. His crown and royal garments are also missing, a simple outfit of fawn and crimson replaces trinkets of gold. He looks tired: shadows of many sleepless nights darken his eyes, and there is a new hauntedness that has never fully left his gaze. This is not the first time he has sought out Kili. They both cannot bear to let the other out of their sight for long.

"Kili... it's getting late."

I'm worried. Why didn't you tell me before you ran off alone? What if something happened and I was not here for you? Mahal, Kili, don't do this to me again.

"I'm sorry," Kili mumbles, picking at his sleeve and avoiding Fili's eyes. He is afraid he will start crying again from the unshakable worry he will find in his brother's gaze.

Carefully Kili slides down, mindful of the smaller branches that crack under his weight. Fili watches him antsily from below, arms twitching in preparation to catch his brother should he fall. No sooner does Kili touched the ground than he is swept into an embrace, Fili's arms nearly squeezing the life out of him. His lingering wounds protest and Kili muffles a grunt, eliciting a gasp of horror and an instantaneous apology as Fili drew away.

"I'm sorry, Kili, I forgot..."

Fili is shaking. His eyes are wide and dark with terror, and he keeps his hand on Kili's shoulder as though his brother might shatter and vanish the moment he steps away. There is too much fear in them now: they both recognize it. Their journey has scarred them too deeply for the glorious rebirth of Erebor to cure.

Pulling Kili towards him more gently, Fili drapes an arm around his brother's shoulders and guides him back up the path. "It's getting late," he mentions again. "You shouldn't be outside after dark. Oin said there's still a risk of pneumonia."

Kili gives a small nod, unable to answer. He pauses when Fili draws a shuddering breath and looks accusingly into his brother's eyes.

Don't lie to me. You're hurting. We can't make this better. You're sick of it and I am too: the nightmares, the screams and the memories we can't erase. It was too much in too short of a time. We were both unprepared for this.

"It'll be all right," Fili says huskily, shrugging and offering a faint smile that never reaches his eyes. "We'll be all right, Kili."

Nodding once more, Kili hugs his brother tight and wills the images of the past to vanish. Erebor is returning to her former glory, and the era of peace has returned. Fili is right. Their troubles are over.

After all, they have always been good liars.