The Path Through Mirkwood: Epilogue (B) - The Return
Characters/Pairings: Fíli/Bofur, Thorin, Thorin's Company
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Horror
Warnings: Body Horror, Oviposition, Medical Procedures, Character Death, Hallucinations
Summary: The things Thorin’s company encounters in Mirkwood are beyond their worst nightmares. As Fíli’s uncle says, the faster they travel, the sooner they will leave the forest and all its horrors behind - if they manage to....
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit.
Epilogue (B): The Return
The temperatures took a sharp dip before Kíli’s company reached Lake-Town and stayed low after that. The cold was another reason Kíli delayed the company’s departure from Lake-Town as long as possible, but Thorin did not come and in the end, Kíli kept his promise and left just in time to reach the keyhole of the Hidden Door by Durin’s Day.
Things gained speed from there and Kíli felt they were barely able to breathe between entering Erebor for the first time, the destruction of Lake-Town and the men of Lake-Town showing up at Erebor with an army of elves. Not a day passed without Kíli looking towards Mirkwood hoping that Thorin and Fíli would show up with the remaining company.
Instead, Dáin received the message Kíli sent him with one of the ravens and came to Erebor with five hundred warriors and half that number of craftsmen.
“This amount of treasure was bound to draw scavengers,” Dáin explained, “perhaps even worse than elves and men.”
As thankful as Kíli was to have Dáin’s people as support, their arrival threw back the negotiations with the men of Lake-Town, and this was not the first time there had been difficulties. Bard called the arrival of heavily armed dwarves a betrayal of hard-earned trust and days passed before the men and elves realised that the dwarves of Erebor still would not choose battle over negotiation.
Despite this, Kíli slept easier now that the mountain was protected. The sound of hammers rang through the no longer quite so empty halls as Erebor was slowly made fit for habitation again. Kíli quickly came to value Dáin’s advice nearly as much as Balin’s.
Finally, an agreement was reached that Erebor was to pay a large sum as compensation for waking Smaug and the resulting destruction of Lake-Town. The dwarves would also help rebuild the two towns and help house the men until then.
An agreement with the elves was harder to reach. Their claim to compensations was based on accusations that were often centuries old or on things that Kíli had always thought were common decency, like the right to travel on roads. For Kíli, most of the claims sounded like excuses to cheat their way into getting a share of the treasure. His blood boiled at the thought of paying for their miserable voyage through Mirkwood in gold. To add to his displeasure, none of the elves could give him any word on his uncle or brother, claiming they had used a different route out of the forest.
In the end, Kíli swallowed his pride for a chance to start a better relationship between the two realms. Erebor would pay a sum that made Kíli grind his teeth for the rights to travel through Mirkwood as long as the two realms existed. In return, the elves pledged to keep the path in a state that permitted safe travel on it every year from spring till autumn and to provide protection for any dwarf travelling on it when that wasn’t possible. In addition to that, Kíli would publicly apologise for the crimes his ancestors might have committed against the elves.
The apology took place during the festivities to celebrate the treaties. There was a feast in the large hall of Erebor, not as bountiful as it would have been if their food supplies had been larger, but a feast nonetheless. Kíli delivered his apology, half expecting Thorin to barge in through the doors of the hall commanding the elves to take back their atrocious demands. Kíli cringed at the thought of explaining the sum he was paying to men and especially elves, but it all came from Kíli’s fourteenth of the treasure and whatever the others had decided to pitch in. Instead, it was Roäc the raven who flew in through the doors to warn them about two large armies of orcs and wargs marching on Erebor.
The battle that followed was one Kíli would never forget. He carried a wound on his leg from the battlefield that would leave him limping for the rest of his life and left behind his right eye and half an ear.
Recuperation tore at his patience. Thorin and Fíli still had not returned and being confined to his chambers left Kíli more than enough time to worry about everything that might have happened to them. He itched to return to Mirkwood to look for them.
Most of his companions were either injured themselves or busy rebuilding Erebor so they were only able to keep him company for brief stretches of time. Instead, Bard often sent his children to keep Kíli company so that they could learn about the dwarves’ culture. Bain and Sigrid often had other tasks to help with, so they only came occasionally, but Tilda was a regular guest.
“People are starting to call you King Kíli Mithril-Eye,” she mentioned one day.
“I’m not a king,” Kíli protested.
“Why not? You rule Erebor like my Da rules Dale and he is a king now.”
“My uncle will be king once he reaches Erebor,” Kíli explained. “And my brother Fíli is next in line.” He told her why they hadn’t come to the mountain with Kíli, trying to keep the story simple enough not to scare her, even though the mere thought of some of the things that had happened sent shivers down his spine.
“I hope they reach the mountain soon,” Tilda said, patting his hand when he had finished.
When the healer from the Iron Hills proclaimed Kíli well enough to travel, Kíli had already had everything necessary for the journey prepared. He informed Glóin, Ori, Bilbo and Gandalf as well as the dozen warriors and another of the healers from the Iron Hills who would be travelling with them that they would leave the following morning.
Daín would rule in Kíli’s stead while he was gone, since Balin had still not recovered from his heavy injuries. He tried to convince Kíli to at least wait until the spell of icy weather they were experiencing had passed, but Kíli had waited long enough. Gandalf agreed with him, stating they were less likely to encounter any more wasps when it was cold.
Snow crunched beneath their feet when they left the following morning, glittering in the sunlight like millions of tiny diamonds. Where the river emerged from Erebor, huge icicles had formed on the rock and pieces of ice floated down the river like giant, white water lily leaves. The dwarves’ breaths formed white clouds and within minutes, ice crystals were forming in their beards and the furs of their coats. Even Bilbo had agreed to wear boots.
The weather stayed clear and cold during their entire journey to Mirkwood. As glad as Kíli was to be on the road to find the part of the company that had remained behind, his trepidation grew as they came closer to the dark wall of trees on the horizon.
The branches of the trees jutted into the sky like enormous skeletal hands. Kíli tried not to shudder as they stepped into their shadow. The same discomfort also showed on his companions’ faces and the ponies pulling the wagon with their supplies snorted uneasily as well.
Despite the lack of leaves, the forest was no less gloomy than when Kíli had left it. The trees wore thick coats of ice on their trunks, dyed brown or green from the slime that covered their bark. What little light hit them reflected off them strangely, making the forest glisten like an otherworldly hall of mirror columns. In place of the constant rustling that had made Kíli uneasy when he had first travelled through Mirkwood, the forest was now silent, save for the occasional crackling of ice when it expanded or shrank.
Water had gathered on the path in some places and frozen over to form dangerously slippery patches that were sometimes so wide the company could not always walk around. Instead, they formed lines and inched across the puddles, trying to prevent each other from falling. Occasionally, they toppled over one after the other, gathering a colourful collection of bruises. Other times, the ice was not thick enough to carry their weight and they broke through, soaking their boots and risking twisting their ankles and cutting themselves on the jagged edges of the ice. Luckily, their ponies were surefooted mountain ponies and none of them was injured.
On the third day in Mirkwood, it began snowing again. The tiny crystals soon made way for great clumpy snowflakes clinging to their eyelashes and clothes. Whenever one drifted into Kíli’s remaining eye, he was temporarily blinded until he managed to blink the cold, watery mass away.
The ground was soon covered by a thick blanket of snow, concealing the treacherous patches of ice. After a few dangerous falls, the company soon began prodding at the ground ahead of them with make-shift canes. While this mostly kept them from slipping on unexpected ice, it slowed their pace considerably.
They were all exhausted when they made their camp that evening. To their relief, the snow abated slightly.
Kíli woke to a heavy weight on him. Everything around him was white. Kíli struggled to sit up and realised he had nearly been snowed over. His companions had fared no differently and he quickly helped them free themselves from the snow.
As they started walking, Kíli realised how many creatures had left their tracks close to them in the snow, just out of eyesight of the dwarf who had been on watch. Kíli couldn’t even recognise what kind of animals they had been, so strange were the tracks they left behind.
It had stopped snowing by now. Where the boughs and twigs formed especially dense thatches, there was a thick layer of snow in the trees. In some places, the path was almost like a dimly-lit tunnel.
That afternoon, Kíli suddenly heard a loud crack and a white mass came crashing down in front of him. When the dust had settled enough that he could see again, he saw Ori struggling and sputtering, trying to free himself from an avalanche that had been caused by branches collapsing under the weight of the snow.
Kíli and the others quickly helped him. Luckily, Ori had not been badly injured. He only had a gash on his forehead where a small branch had struck him. They quickly cleaned the wound and when they were convinced Ori was really alright, continued on their journey.
Like on his last journey through Mirkwood, Kíli quickly lost all sense of distance. The path wound its way through the forest in seemingly random curves and they still frequently had to navigate through patches of ice and around branches and trees that had broken under the burden of the snow.
Kíli had counted the days on the way out of the forest, but since they were going so slowly, he had no idea how much further they would have to travel to reach the place where they had left the others.
Kíli was walking near the front of the company when he heard Glóin fall and curse.
“Damn branches, lying hidden under snow just to make us trip!”
Glóin picked himself of the ground, brushing more snow off what had made him stumble in the process.
Ori froze. “That’s... that’s not a branch.”
Kíli had come close enough to see as well and drew a sharp breath. Glóin was turning around slowly to look at the clearly dwarf-shaped lump.
“Clear the snow off him, quick!” Kíli instructed and Glóin and Ori sprang into action while the dwarves from the Iron Hills watched the forest uneasily.
It was Dwalin.
Snow clung to his beard and crystals of ice covered his skin, which was stretched tautly over his bones. Kíli had never seen him so haggard. Kíli knew Dwalin was dead before the healer examined him.
A wave of despair washed over Kíli and he wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground to grieve. There was no way Thorin and Fíli would just leave Dwalin lying on the path if they had any choice.
"Look for the others," Kíli commanded, but they didn't have to look far.
They had already passed Bombur, whom they had mistaken for a log by the side of the road. Oín and Bifur lay on one side of the small clearing Kíli now recognised from when Bofur hadn't wanted to continue their journey. On the other side of the clearing, Fíli leaned against a tree trunk, holding Bofur. Thorin lay on the path close to them.
Like Dwalin, they were skin and bones and frozen stiff. Kíli looked away from them.
"Keep a lookout," Kíli told the warriors from the Iron Hills. "Especially watch for any wasps hiding between the branches of the trees."
"No, no, it can't be!" Gloín was sobbing over Glóin's body. Bilbo and Ori looked between their former companions helplessly, tears streaming down their faces.
Kíli took a deep breath and straightened. "How did they die?" He asked the healer, who was examining the bodies.
"All of them have large injuries from which the parasites, wasps as you say, must have emerged. Before that, the larvae seem to have consumed almost everything they could: muscles, fat, inner organs."
Kíli nodded. They were barely recognisable as emaciated as they were.
"That one seems to have been dead a bit longer than the others," the healer continued, gesturing at Bofur. "Decay has already set in slightly while the others are completely preserved by the frost. He also has fewer wounds from the larvae."
Again Kíli nodded. "Oín removed several of the larvae from Bofur. We thought he had gotten all of them..." He trailed off, looking at the bodies of his kin and friends. "Why did they stay here and not do anything? Bofur was still able to travel for a few weeks after he was stung. Why didn't they cut the larvae out?"
The healer shrugged. "There are parasites that can adapt to their hosts, infecting different kinds of animals in different ways. Perhaps the wasps adjusted and made sure they couldn't move. From what you told me, it is also possible the wasp that stung Bofur was simply forced to flee before it could completely immobilise him. I am sorry for your loss, I wish there was something we could..."
Kíli shook his head. "Is it safe to take them back to Erebor or do we have to build them a funeral pyre here to make sure nobody else is harmed by the wasps?"
He looked at the wood already stacked into a pyre. Bofur must have died while the others were still able to move. Fíli must have been devastated. For a moment, Kíli was almost overwhelmed by the urge to comfort his brother, before he remembered he too was dead.
"I am fairly sure all the wasps hatched weeks ago. There is no danger in taking their bodies back to Erebor to give them a proper funeral," the healer said.
Gandalf, who had come over without Kíli noticing, nodded. "The wasps are gone and it is more than unlikely that they will return at these temperatures. You can take as long as you like."
"We load them onto the wagon and leave as soon as possible," Kíli decided, realising the others were looking to him for directions.
The dwarves from the Iron Hills formed a circle, still keeping an eye on the forest. When Kíli walked over to Thorin’s body, Ori and Gloín quickly came to help him. Together, they moved Thorin's and the others’ bodies onto the wagon but Kíli barely saw what they were doing.
When they were done, Kíli carved a rune into the tree at which Thorin and Fíli had died so that a stone to commemorate them could be raised in the future. Then the dwarves turned around and started the journey back to Erebor.
Kíli was not sure for how long they had walked when Bilbo’s voice pulled him from his daze.
“Are you alright, Kíli? If there is anything I can do….”
“I am fine. Thank you for returning to Erebor with us to pay your respects at the funeral instead of continuing your journey. They would have appreciated it.” Kíli distantly realised how impersonal he sounded.
“It is the least I can do,” Bilbo replied and they lapsed into silence again.
Kíli only noticed it was getting dark when one of the warriors from the Iron Hills approached him.
“Where shall we make camp for the night, King Kíli?”
Kíli almost replied automatically replied that he wasn’t king before it all hit him with full force.
“This spot looks as good as any, doesn’t it?” Ori said when he noticed Kíli’s blank stare and inablility to reply.
Kíli nodded and sprang back into action, mindlessly going through the motions of setting up camp. He was vaguely aware of Ori and Bilbo watching him with concern. Kíli ate the piece of bread he was handed without tasting anything, then watched as everybody went to sleep. Gloín’s back shook soundlessly as he fell asleep.
When snores began to drift through the air, Kíli climbed onto the wagon and looked at Thorin and Fíli. After a while, he became aware of Ori’s presence at his side.
“He knew, didn’t he?” Kíli finally said. “They both knew. Thorin gave me the key and the map because he knew he wouldn’t follow us. And Fíli... he was trying to make sure I would get through all this alright. I didn’t even realise....”
“I think most of us didn’t. Nori probably did, but I think most of us others thought they would wait until Bofur got better or... died and then they would rejoin us. How should we have known this would happen?”
A few snowflakes started drifting down.
“I didn’t think I would have to do this forever. I assumed I was just keeping things going until they took over again. I should have seen this coming, should have been prepared, but this is all so much...”
“You have achieved so much already. Everything is running so smoothly that you can surely take some time to grieve. Don’t forget we are in this with you and will help you in any way we can. You don’t have to be a king around us, you know.”
Ori pulled Kíli into his arms. For a moment, Kíli tensed even more. Then he sagged into the hug. He began to cry.
Previous Chapter <> Chapter Index <> The Beginner's Guide to the Animals of Mirkwood
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Horror
Warnings: Body Horror, Oviposition, Medical Procedures, Character Death, Hallucinations
Summary: The things Thorin’s company encounters in Mirkwood are beyond their worst nightmares. As Fíli’s uncle says, the faster they travel, the sooner they will leave the forest and all its horrors behind - if they manage to....
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit.
Epilogue (B): The Return
The temperatures took a sharp dip before Kíli’s company reached Lake-Town and stayed low after that. The cold was another reason Kíli delayed the company’s departure from Lake-Town as long as possible, but Thorin did not come and in the end, Kíli kept his promise and left just in time to reach the keyhole of the Hidden Door by Durin’s Day.
Things gained speed from there and Kíli felt they were barely able to breathe between entering Erebor for the first time, the destruction of Lake-Town and the men of Lake-Town showing up at Erebor with an army of elves. Not a day passed without Kíli looking towards Mirkwood hoping that Thorin and Fíli would show up with the remaining company.
Instead, Dáin received the message Kíli sent him with one of the ravens and came to Erebor with five hundred warriors and half that number of craftsmen.
“This amount of treasure was bound to draw scavengers,” Dáin explained, “perhaps even worse than elves and men.”
As thankful as Kíli was to have Dáin’s people as support, their arrival threw back the negotiations with the men of Lake-Town, and this was not the first time there had been difficulties. Bard called the arrival of heavily armed dwarves a betrayal of hard-earned trust and days passed before the men and elves realised that the dwarves of Erebor still would not choose battle over negotiation.
Despite this, Kíli slept easier now that the mountain was protected. The sound of hammers rang through the no longer quite so empty halls as Erebor was slowly made fit for habitation again. Kíli quickly came to value Dáin’s advice nearly as much as Balin’s.
Finally, an agreement was reached that Erebor was to pay a large sum as compensation for waking Smaug and the resulting destruction of Lake-Town. The dwarves would also help rebuild the two towns and help house the men until then.
An agreement with the elves was harder to reach. Their claim to compensations was based on accusations that were often centuries old or on things that Kíli had always thought were common decency, like the right to travel on roads. For Kíli, most of the claims sounded like excuses to cheat their way into getting a share of the treasure. His blood boiled at the thought of paying for their miserable voyage through Mirkwood in gold. To add to his displeasure, none of the elves could give him any word on his uncle or brother, claiming they had used a different route out of the forest.
In the end, Kíli swallowed his pride for a chance to start a better relationship between the two realms. Erebor would pay a sum that made Kíli grind his teeth for the rights to travel through Mirkwood as long as the two realms existed. In return, the elves pledged to keep the path in a state that permitted safe travel on it every year from spring till autumn and to provide protection for any dwarf travelling on it when that wasn’t possible. In addition to that, Kíli would publicly apologise for the crimes his ancestors might have committed against the elves.
The apology took place during the festivities to celebrate the treaties. There was a feast in the large hall of Erebor, not as bountiful as it would have been if their food supplies had been larger, but a feast nonetheless. Kíli delivered his apology, half expecting Thorin to barge in through the doors of the hall commanding the elves to take back their atrocious demands. Kíli cringed at the thought of explaining the sum he was paying to men and especially elves, but it all came from Kíli’s fourteenth of the treasure and whatever the others had decided to pitch in. Instead, it was Roäc the raven who flew in through the doors to warn them about two large armies of orcs and wargs marching on Erebor.
The battle that followed was one Kíli would never forget. He carried a wound on his leg from the battlefield that would leave him limping for the rest of his life and left behind his right eye and half an ear.
Recuperation tore at his patience. Thorin and Fíli still had not returned and being confined to his chambers left Kíli more than enough time to worry about everything that might have happened to them. He itched to return to Mirkwood to look for them.
Most of his companions were either injured themselves or busy rebuilding Erebor so they were only able to keep him company for brief stretches of time. Instead, Bard often sent his children to keep Kíli company so that they could learn about the dwarves’ culture. Bain and Sigrid often had other tasks to help with, so they only came occasionally, but Tilda was a regular guest.
“People are starting to call you King Kíli Mithril-Eye,” she mentioned one day.
“I’m not a king,” Kíli protested.
“Why not? You rule Erebor like my Da rules Dale and he is a king now.”
“My uncle will be king once he reaches Erebor,” Kíli explained. “And my brother Fíli is next in line.” He told her why they hadn’t come to the mountain with Kíli, trying to keep the story simple enough not to scare her, even though the mere thought of some of the things that had happened sent shivers down his spine.
“I hope they reach the mountain soon,” Tilda said, patting his hand when he had finished.
When the healer from the Iron Hills proclaimed Kíli well enough to travel, Kíli had already had everything necessary for the journey prepared. He informed Glóin, Ori, Bilbo and Gandalf as well as the dozen warriors and another of the healers from the Iron Hills who would be travelling with them that they would leave the following morning.
Daín would rule in Kíli’s stead while he was gone, since Balin had still not recovered from his heavy injuries. He tried to convince Kíli to at least wait until the spell of icy weather they were experiencing had passed, but Kíli had waited long enough. Gandalf agreed with him, stating they were less likely to encounter any more wasps when it was cold.
Snow crunched beneath their feet when they left the following morning, glittering in the sunlight like millions of tiny diamonds. Where the river emerged from Erebor, huge icicles had formed on the rock and pieces of ice floated down the river like giant, white water lily leaves. The dwarves’ breaths formed white clouds and within minutes, ice crystals were forming in their beards and the furs of their coats. Even Bilbo had agreed to wear boots.
The weather stayed clear and cold during their entire journey to Mirkwood. As glad as Kíli was to be on the road to find the part of the company that had remained behind, his trepidation grew as they came closer to the dark wall of trees on the horizon.
The branches of the trees jutted into the sky like enormous skeletal hands. Kíli tried not to shudder as they stepped into their shadow. The same discomfort also showed on his companions’ faces and the ponies pulling the wagon with their supplies snorted uneasily as well.
Despite the lack of leaves, the forest was no less gloomy than when Kíli had left it. The trees wore thick coats of ice on their trunks, dyed brown or green from the slime that covered their bark. What little light hit them reflected off them strangely, making the forest glisten like an otherworldly hall of mirror columns. In place of the constant rustling that had made Kíli uneasy when he had first travelled through Mirkwood, the forest was now silent, save for the occasional crackling of ice when it expanded or shrank.
Water had gathered on the path in some places and frozen over to form dangerously slippery patches that were sometimes so wide the company could not always walk around. Instead, they formed lines and inched across the puddles, trying to prevent each other from falling. Occasionally, they toppled over one after the other, gathering a colourful collection of bruises. Other times, the ice was not thick enough to carry their weight and they broke through, soaking their boots and risking twisting their ankles and cutting themselves on the jagged edges of the ice. Luckily, their ponies were surefooted mountain ponies and none of them was injured.
On the third day in Mirkwood, it began snowing again. The tiny crystals soon made way for great clumpy snowflakes clinging to their eyelashes and clothes. Whenever one drifted into Kíli’s remaining eye, he was temporarily blinded until he managed to blink the cold, watery mass away.
The ground was soon covered by a thick blanket of snow, concealing the treacherous patches of ice. After a few dangerous falls, the company soon began prodding at the ground ahead of them with make-shift canes. While this mostly kept them from slipping on unexpected ice, it slowed their pace considerably.
They were all exhausted when they made their camp that evening. To their relief, the snow abated slightly.
Kíli woke to a heavy weight on him. Everything around him was white. Kíli struggled to sit up and realised he had nearly been snowed over. His companions had fared no differently and he quickly helped them free themselves from the snow.
As they started walking, Kíli realised how many creatures had left their tracks close to them in the snow, just out of eyesight of the dwarf who had been on watch. Kíli couldn’t even recognise what kind of animals they had been, so strange were the tracks they left behind.
It had stopped snowing by now. Where the boughs and twigs formed especially dense thatches, there was a thick layer of snow in the trees. In some places, the path was almost like a dimly-lit tunnel.
That afternoon, Kíli suddenly heard a loud crack and a white mass came crashing down in front of him. When the dust had settled enough that he could see again, he saw Ori struggling and sputtering, trying to free himself from an avalanche that had been caused by branches collapsing under the weight of the snow.
Kíli and the others quickly helped him. Luckily, Ori had not been badly injured. He only had a gash on his forehead where a small branch had struck him. They quickly cleaned the wound and when they were convinced Ori was really alright, continued on their journey.
Like on his last journey through Mirkwood, Kíli quickly lost all sense of distance. The path wound its way through the forest in seemingly random curves and they still frequently had to navigate through patches of ice and around branches and trees that had broken under the burden of the snow.
Kíli had counted the days on the way out of the forest, but since they were going so slowly, he had no idea how much further they would have to travel to reach the place where they had left the others.
Kíli was walking near the front of the company when he heard Glóin fall and curse.
“Damn branches, lying hidden under snow just to make us trip!”
Glóin picked himself of the ground, brushing more snow off what had made him stumble in the process.
Ori froze. “That’s... that’s not a branch.”
Kíli had come close enough to see as well and drew a sharp breath. Glóin was turning around slowly to look at the clearly dwarf-shaped lump.
“Clear the snow off him, quick!” Kíli instructed and Glóin and Ori sprang into action while the dwarves from the Iron Hills watched the forest uneasily.
It was Dwalin.
Snow clung to his beard and crystals of ice covered his skin, which was stretched tautly over his bones. Kíli had never seen him so haggard. Kíli knew Dwalin was dead before the healer examined him.
A wave of despair washed over Kíli and he wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground to grieve. There was no way Thorin and Fíli would just leave Dwalin lying on the path if they had any choice.
"Look for the others," Kíli commanded, but they didn't have to look far.
They had already passed Bombur, whom they had mistaken for a log by the side of the road. Oín and Bifur lay on one side of the small clearing Kíli now recognised from when Bofur hadn't wanted to continue their journey. On the other side of the clearing, Fíli leaned against a tree trunk, holding Bofur. Thorin lay on the path close to them.
Like Dwalin, they were skin and bones and frozen stiff. Kíli looked away from them.
"Keep a lookout," Kíli told the warriors from the Iron Hills. "Especially watch for any wasps hiding between the branches of the trees."
"No, no, it can't be!" Gloín was sobbing over Glóin's body. Bilbo and Ori looked between their former companions helplessly, tears streaming down their faces.
Kíli took a deep breath and straightened. "How did they die?" He asked the healer, who was examining the bodies.
"All of them have large injuries from which the parasites, wasps as you say, must have emerged. Before that, the larvae seem to have consumed almost everything they could: muscles, fat, inner organs."
Kíli nodded. They were barely recognisable as emaciated as they were.
"That one seems to have been dead a bit longer than the others," the healer continued, gesturing at Bofur. "Decay has already set in slightly while the others are completely preserved by the frost. He also has fewer wounds from the larvae."
Again Kíli nodded. "Oín removed several of the larvae from Bofur. We thought he had gotten all of them..." He trailed off, looking at the bodies of his kin and friends. "Why did they stay here and not do anything? Bofur was still able to travel for a few weeks after he was stung. Why didn't they cut the larvae out?"
The healer shrugged. "There are parasites that can adapt to their hosts, infecting different kinds of animals in different ways. Perhaps the wasps adjusted and made sure they couldn't move. From what you told me, it is also possible the wasp that stung Bofur was simply forced to flee before it could completely immobilise him. I am sorry for your loss, I wish there was something we could..."
Kíli shook his head. "Is it safe to take them back to Erebor or do we have to build them a funeral pyre here to make sure nobody else is harmed by the wasps?"
He looked at the wood already stacked into a pyre. Bofur must have died while the others were still able to move. Fíli must have been devastated. For a moment, Kíli was almost overwhelmed by the urge to comfort his brother, before he remembered he too was dead.
"I am fairly sure all the wasps hatched weeks ago. There is no danger in taking their bodies back to Erebor to give them a proper funeral," the healer said.
Gandalf, who had come over without Kíli noticing, nodded. "The wasps are gone and it is more than unlikely that they will return at these temperatures. You can take as long as you like."
"We load them onto the wagon and leave as soon as possible," Kíli decided, realising the others were looking to him for directions.
The dwarves from the Iron Hills formed a circle, still keeping an eye on the forest. When Kíli walked over to Thorin’s body, Ori and Gloín quickly came to help him. Together, they moved Thorin's and the others’ bodies onto the wagon but Kíli barely saw what they were doing.
When they were done, Kíli carved a rune into the tree at which Thorin and Fíli had died so that a stone to commemorate them could be raised in the future. Then the dwarves turned around and started the journey back to Erebor.
Kíli was not sure for how long they had walked when Bilbo’s voice pulled him from his daze.
“Are you alright, Kíli? If there is anything I can do….”
“I am fine. Thank you for returning to Erebor with us to pay your respects at the funeral instead of continuing your journey. They would have appreciated it.” Kíli distantly realised how impersonal he sounded.
“It is the least I can do,” Bilbo replied and they lapsed into silence again.
Kíli only noticed it was getting dark when one of the warriors from the Iron Hills approached him.
“Where shall we make camp for the night, King Kíli?”
Kíli almost replied automatically replied that he wasn’t king before it all hit him with full force.
“This spot looks as good as any, doesn’t it?” Ori said when he noticed Kíli’s blank stare and inablility to reply.
Kíli nodded and sprang back into action, mindlessly going through the motions of setting up camp. He was vaguely aware of Ori and Bilbo watching him with concern. Kíli ate the piece of bread he was handed without tasting anything, then watched as everybody went to sleep. Gloín’s back shook soundlessly as he fell asleep.
When snores began to drift through the air, Kíli climbed onto the wagon and looked at Thorin and Fíli. After a while, he became aware of Ori’s presence at his side.
“He knew, didn’t he?” Kíli finally said. “They both knew. Thorin gave me the key and the map because he knew he wouldn’t follow us. And Fíli... he was trying to make sure I would get through all this alright. I didn’t even realise....”
“I think most of us didn’t. Nori probably did, but I think most of us others thought they would wait until Bofur got better or... died and then they would rejoin us. How should we have known this would happen?”
A few snowflakes started drifting down.
“I didn’t think I would have to do this forever. I assumed I was just keeping things going until they took over again. I should have seen this coming, should have been prepared, but this is all so much...”
“You have achieved so much already. Everything is running so smoothly that you can surely take some time to grieve. Don’t forget we are in this with you and will help you in any way we can. You don’t have to be a king around us, you know.”
Ori pulled Kíli into his arms. For a moment, Kíli tensed even more. Then he sagged into the hug. He began to cry.
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