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By the time they headed to the Elf guest rooms for bed, Kíli was reeling like a drunk, and that was the final straw.
Fíli had known Kíli from the day he was born. Thorin had put the baby in his arms, showed him how to hold him, and said "You're a big brother now. It is your job to take care of him." And Fíli had taken that task seriously. Kíli's first steps had been made holding his brother's hands. When someone made fun of him for not having a father, or for his unusual, lean build, Fíli beat them up. When Kíli fell out of a tree he had climbed too high into, Fíli carried him home.
Fíli knew Kíli better than anyone; sometimes better than he knew himself. And Kíli was a loud, happy drunk. The more he drank, the louder his laughter. The more he drank, the closer he sat, and the more maudlin his talk became. He was not like that this night. He had been more quiet than usual, and stayed away from people.
And he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol the entire night.
"What's wrong?" Fíli demanded when the door swung shut behind him.
Kíli looked shamed and nervous, but Fíli could see that his eyes weren't properly focused. "It's nothing. Just feeling a little sick."
"You've never been one to suffer silently," Fíli pointed out, stepping forward to press a hand to his brother's forehead. Kíli had been prone to fevers as a child, but he'd grown out of that by thirty.
Kíli shied back, nearly tripping though there was nothing to trip over. "Perhaps I'm trying to act like an adult. We're on a serious quest, there's no reason for me to act like a child. Uncle is busy with the Elves and everything, I don't want to worry him."
Fíli shook his head. "Nice try, and you practiced it well," he said grimly. "You will tell me what is wrong."
Kíli wavered on his feet, and wavered in his determination as well. Finally, he half collapsed onto the bed and pulled his coat and tunic off. On his right side, scraping the line of his ribs and contrasting the bright red of a possible infection over skin that looked far too pale, was a scabbed over wound.
Fíli frowned at it, drawing careful fingers over the edge of it and frowning harder at his brother's hiss of pain. "When did you get this? Was it the Trolls?"
"When we were running, one of the Orcs got me before I reached cover."
Fíli's eyes snapped wide. "Durin's hammer, Kíli! Orcs poison their blades!"
"It's just a scratch. I'm fine," Kíli insisted.
"You're not," Fíli said sharply. "I'm going to get uncle and Óin."
Kíli's eyes widened. "No! Fíli, no!" And when he reached out to grab his brother by the arm, Fíli felt how hot his hands were, and how clammy with sweat. "He'd send me home, you can't!"
But his breath gasped in his throat, and Fíli shook his head. "You should go home. You can't go on! Not when you've been poisoned!"
"It's just a scratch! I'll be fine in the morning!" Kíli's eyes were desperate and almost unseeing, but he held Fíli's gaze with his own. "Promise me, Fíli! Please!"
Fíli knew he should refuse, but in the moment he dithered he felt Kíli's pulse ramp up and his breathing stutter further. You were supposed to keep people calm when they were injured. He knew that from all his weapon and battle training. He needed to get Kíli lying quietly, covered warmly, safe and calm. But if he gave his word, then he couldn't tell Thorin. Promises had to be kept.
In the end, he took Kíli's hand in his own and pressed his brother down onto the bed. "Yes, all right," he said, spreading the blankets over him. "I won't tell uncle."
"Or the rest of the company. Promise, Fíli!"
"I promise," Fíli said, taking Kíli's hand again and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. As he had hoped, the assurance settled his brother's breathing and his pulse dropped almost to normal. He brushed sweat damp hair back from Kíli's face and dropped a kiss on his forehead. Kíli mumbled at him, almost asleep already.
Fíli sat and watched for a time, brows drawn in worry. Perhaps Kíli was right. It hadn't seemed like a bad wound; it was possible that he would sleep off the effects. Surely, Orcs would put a faster working poison on their weapons. But what if he was wrong? He'd been poisoned. Could you sleep that off?
But he couldn't go to Óin for help. He'd promised, and he'd always kept his promises to Kíli. He stroked his brother's hair, more as comfort to himself than any thought of comforting Kíli. He had to do something. His baby brother had been poisoned. He'd failed in the first and most important task ever given to him. He had let his brother be hurt, and now he had to make it better.
How could he do that? Even if he was right about infection, he couldn't just get a salve from Óin. He would demand to know who and what it was for, insist on examining for himself. And then Thorin would know and Fíli would have broken his promise. And where else could he get medicine?
He was out of the room and halfway across the building before he consciously caught up to what he had been thinking. He looked up and up as the door opened, the leader of the Elves so unnaturally huge that it almost hurt his neck to be so close.
"Lord Elrond, I need something for an infection."
"Your healer has nothing? Remind me in the morning, and I would be glad to give him any stock he needs."
"No!" Fíli said with a desperate shake of the head. "They must not know!" He saw the frown and crooked brow of concern and felt himself flush, because he couldn't truthfully answer the silent question. "U-- Thorin is very busy." Careful, Fíli. Giving away that relationship to an enemy was dangerous. "He is a good leader and I don't want to distract him with things that are easily taken care of." Points for plausibility and praising his uncle at the same time.
Elrond seemed less than convinced, but he said nothing. "I will find what you require in the morning. Come to me after breakfast."
Fíli nodded his gratitude and turned to go, but at the last moment he looked back over his shoulder. "Do you have antivenin for snake bites?"
"Who has been poisoned?" Elrond demanded, voice rising in alarm.
Fíli winced. "Just a precaution," he said. "We might encounter snakes."
The Elf eyed him closely. "Before breakfast," he said finally. "Be awake early, young Dwarf."
Fíli bowed thanks and all but fled back to his room. Kíli was awake, bent over the edge of the bed and throwing up into the chamber pot. Fíli poured water from the pitcher and set it on the night stand, then sat on the bed next to his brother, pulling his hair away from his face and rubbing his back.
Neither of them slept well that night. Kíli fell in and out of dozing between heaving up everything he had eaten in what seemed like days. Even after he was completely purged his body kept trying to expel something, thin amounts of bile coming from him alongside sobs of pain and anguish. Fíli remained awake with him, helping him sip water, bundling him up to rest as he could. And while Kíli slept, Fíli watched over him.
He snuck out in the pre-dawn twilight, and retrieved the medicines passed to him silently by the leader of the Elves. He clutched them to his chest as he made his way back, easily slipping through the door of the room without waking Kíli from his half conscious doze. He pulled the blankets back and saw that the wound was brighter red than ever against his brother's skin, and that his skin seemed to have lost all color.
Putting the liquid antivenin aside, Fíli twisted open the tub of salve and spread it thickly over the wound. Kíli's breath hitched at the touch, but seemed to smooth out as it went on. Fíli took a clean cloth from his pack and covered the wound, securing it tightly. Only then did he get into bed to sleep, keeping one arm around his brother to feel his continued breathing.
When morning finally came, Fíli rolled into wakefulness. He blinked a few times to get the sleep out of his eyes, and looked down at Kíli. His brother was still asleep, despite usually being the earlier riser. After the night they had had, it wasn't really surprising, but it still worried Fíli.
Kíli was burning hot and his breathing was labored and shallow. Fíli shook him gently until his eyes fluttered open. "Fíli?" he asked, voice hoarse and needy.
"I'm here," Fíli answered, reaching over to get a cup of water and the antivenin. He added the medicine to the water and helped Kíli drink it. Kíli made a face at the taste of it, but didn't ask any questions. He knew Fíli wouldn't go back on a promise. He never had, and he never would. Not to his brother.
Fíli ventured out of the room again, keeping a sharp eye out for any of the other Dwarves. Luck was with him, because it seemed that everyone was taking the chance to sleep in. He found his way down to the kitchens and then came back to their room with bowls of warm, creamy porridge.
To his dismay, by the time he returned Kíli had already thrown up the medicine. He put down the bowls and reached out for the bottle, but Kíli knocked it out of his hand and it smashed on the floor.
"No good," the younger Dwarf panted. "I could feel it turning me inside out."
"That's the poison, " Fíli objected. "The medicine is supposed to help you."
Kíli shook his head again, eyes leaking tears.
Fíli looked at the stained floor, brows drawing in pain, and bent to clean up the broken glass. He dumped it into the chamber pot, and then held his breath and took it out to clean it. The others were still asleep - it was hardly past dawn, so of course they were - and Fíli had to answer no questions when he found a place to dump it and scour it of the smell.
Kíli was sprawled in the bed when he returned again, eyes unfocused and breathing hard.
"I can't even feed myself, Fíli," he whispered, eyes welling tears. "My hands shake and I can't even lift the spoon." The tears dripped down his cheeks and he didn't try to wipe them away.
Fíli did it for him, not liking the heat in his brother's skin. "You're sick, Kíli. I should--"
"No!" The answer was fast, and desperate tears sprouted to replace the ones that had been wiped away.
"You're so weak you can't even lift a spoon, and you're hotter than I've ever felt you. Why, Kíli? Why won't you let me get you help?"
"I can't go home," Kíli said, clinging with desperate, trembling strength. He gasped and curled into Fíli's side, defenseless as a kitten. "Not without you. Don't know how to be without you."
Fíli's grip on his brother tightened. He didn't know how to be alone either, but Kíli was so sick.... He helped Kíli sit with pillows piled behind him and spooned porridge into his mouth. After that he brushed Kíli's hair back from his face, and pressed his own cool forehead to his brother's hot one.
Kíli reached out to hold his shoulders. "Don't leave, Fíli. Please don't leave me alone."
"I'm right here," Fíli said, voice low and soothing although he wanted nothing more than to fall to tears himself. He wet a cloth with the water from the pitcher and put it over Kíli's forehead and eyes. Kíli shivered at the touch of the cool water, but lay quietly and let Fíli cover him.
Fíli sat close next to him to have his own breakfast, listening to Kíli's rasping breath. The still form of his baby brother was the scariest thing he had ever seen. Kíli was normally so full of energy, and the hand that groped for his own made him feel that he had failed.
The heaving of Kíli's chest and his desperate swallowing gave enough warning. Fíli yanked the pot out from under the bed and helped his brother lean over the edge to throw up his breakfast. And that was the most worrying thing yet. Mother always gave them porridge when they were sick. If Kíli couldn't even keep that down....
"I'll be okay," Kíli whispered, voice rough, knowing the direction of Fíli's thoughts. "I just need to rest. I'll get better. Don't tell. Don't leave me behind."
Fíli quieted him, wrapping the blankets around him. "I'm not going anywhere," he said softly.
Neither of them ate again that day. Fíli refused to leave his brother, and didn't want to try feeding him again. He continued to throw up at intervals, even without adding anything new to his system. As the day went on, he became more feverish even though Fíli kept wiping him with damp cloths and covering his face.
Kíli shivered every time he was touched, and gasped in pain, even when Fíli was being his most gentle. Fíli knew his brother's eyes weren't focusing, but even still he forced his own tears back. Kíli needed him to be strong.
There were only two knocks on the door over the course of the day. The first time it was Dwalin, calling them to wake. Fíli called back that after the Trolls and Orcs, Kíli was still asleep and he wanted to go back to sleep himself.
The second time, Ori called through the door to tell them dinner was ready. Fíli refused to open the door and lied that they had snuck down to the kitchens and eaten already. He heard Ori shift as if he wanted to say more, but after a moment they were left alone.
Kíli just leaned against him, skin burning to the touch and feeling half as heavy as he had been a day previous. Fíli put an arm around him and rocked gently, wishing their mother was there, wishing he hadn't promised, wishing he knew more about healing than he did. His brother was poisoned, likely dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He must have started crying unaware, because a hot hand touched his cheek and Kíli was peering up at him, eyes clearer than they had been in a day.
"Fíli?"
"Please, Kíli, I don't know what to do." He reached up and took his brother's hand in his own, closing his eyes and saying the one thing he had hoped to never have to say to Kíli. "I'm afraid."
There was a long moment of silence, in which Fíli could feel his brother's pulse speed and his breath shiver. Finally, voice hardly more than a whisper, Kíli whispered "get uncle."
Fíli was out of the room like a shot. It was dark outside, but he didn't notice because all his attention was on finding his uncle. And he found him among the rest of the company, talking with Balin in soft voices. He went to him immediately, not apologizing for interrupting, and Thorin just smiled to see him, putting his hands on his nephew's shoulders.
"Uncle," Fíli said, breath whining in his throat. "Kíli--"
"He slept the day away and now he wants something to eat?" Thorin guessed, still smiling warmly. "He should get it himself, and not send you like his servant."
Fíli shook his head frantically, braids whipping around his face. He saw his uncle's smile melt into a puzzled frown. "The Orcs.... He was hit--"
Thorin blanched, grip tightening painfully. "Óin!" he shouted, not looking to see as he moved quickly to Fíli and Kíli's room. Fíli scrambled after him and Óin followed them both, rooting through his bag for the things he needed.
The door to the room slammed open under Thorin's hand, and when he stopped in slack jawed shock, Fíli looked around him and saw his brother with fresh eyes. He was white, skin gleaming with sweat, and bent over the edge of the bed again. He was retching up nothing, but his body shook with sobs of pain at the constriction in his body as it tried to purge itself of the poison that was in his blood.
Óin pushed past them both and shifted Kíli back onto the bed when the fit had passed, because he was too weak to do it himself. "Get water," he snapped, feeling his temperature and checking his pulse.
"I tried to give him medicine," Fíli said, hurrying to do as he was told. "Lord Elrond--"
"Pshaw," Óin said, spitting into the pot. "Would have done no good. Dwarves were made differently than the rest of creation." He pressed Kíli to lie down, pulling the sweat soaked blankets away. "Carved out of the stone itself, and in times of need, we go back to the stone to heal us."
He opened one of Kíli's hands and pressed smoothed stones into it. "Bloodstone to help your blood be strong. Pyrite to get the toxins out of you. Aquamarine to help you recover. Quartz to make you strong." He curled Kíli's fingers over the stones and reached for the cup of water Fíli held out to him. "And this will dull the nausea."
The healer watched Kíli drink it before turning to the others. "Let me know when he can keep food down, because I have more medicines to give him then. In the meantime, how did the poison get in him?"
Fíli pointed out the wound he had dressed, and Óin ignored them.
"Fíli, how could you let this go?" Thorin demanded.
"I made him promise," Kíli said, voice thin. "Don't blame Fíli, uncle. He wanted to tell you yesterday."
"That was not a promise he should have kept," Thorin said severely, turning to look at Fíli, who dropped his head in shame. Thorin moved around the bed to take Kíli's empty hand in his own. "You should both know that when someone is in danger you don't keep it hidden."
"I'm sorry, uncle," they both whispered.
Thorin held his other hand out to Fíli, and the older brother moved to his side, anxiously watching Óin work on his brother. Finally, the healer grunted satisfaction.
"We'll need at least four days for the stones to do their work; a week if we can spare it. Keep him cool until the fever breaks and try to feed him every few hours. Make sure he drinks constantly. When he can keep food down, I have more medicines for him, but they're no good on an empty stomach."
He shook his head and left, muttering about the foolishness of youth.
"You will continue to tend him," Thorin said to Fíli. Fíli nodded agreement, leaning briefly on his uncle's solid shoulder. "He will survive," Thorin whispered to him, and Fíli nodded again, feeling tears prick at his eyes.
Kíli looked at him, trying hard to focus his eyes. Even still, he seemed to know what his brother was feeling and thinking, because he reached out with his closed hand. Fíli took it between both of his own, feeling the stones resting against Kíli's palm and willing them to work quickly.
Four days. Up to a week. He pressed his head to his brother's, feeling his uncle's arm around him, and swore that this would never happen again.