Disclaimer: The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings and all characters therein are the property of the Tolkien Estate and Wingnut Films. This story is for entertainment only and the author is in no way profiting from it, nor exercising any claims to The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings.

Village of Sorrow

Epilogue

Thorin cradled the limp form of his youngest nephew in his arms as he walked, guided by the steady light of the full moon. There was a slightly reddish tinge to it tonight, appropriate for a day when not only blood had been spilled, but they had almost lost one of their precious children. In his mind, he could not help going over the horrific events in that cursed village.

The meeting had not been going well, accusations being shouted on all sides, when the woman and her husband had come through the door.

"There! They have taken my child again! Thieves who must take our children because stone cannot breed! Did you think we would not know?"

It was the same superstitious nonsense Thorin had heard before, and he snorted, about to snap at the lady when Balin put a firm hand on his arm.

"Nonsense, my lady. We have our own children and love them dearly. Never would we think to force such grief upon another mother. Can you not aid us in ending my own kinswoman's tears? Kíli is but five, a mere babe, and very precious to his mother-"

"I am his mother!" The woman's face was screwed up in hate as one hand shot out to point at Balin, almost poking him in the nose. "You are the accursed, hiding behind your supposed skills!"

She glanced around at the others and Thorin frowned, one hand resting on his sword. There was a growing atmosphere in the room that he did not care for at all. His eye caught Bofur's where the young Broadbeam guide was standing near the door, examining a barrel left there. The hatted dwarf shook his head shortly, face grim as he, too, watched the men warily. So, Thorin was not the only one uncomfortable with the situation. The woman was still speaking.

"You! Clem! Was it not dwarves who supposedly fixed your wagon? The one that broke a week later and fell on your brother?"

There was a murmur as Thorin scoffed.

"Surely you cannot believe that we could do such a thing? Accidents happen."

"Oh? Then how do you explain the traveling smith who came through early this spring? He said it was too dry, and three days later it started to rain, not stopping for almost a month! Black sorcery!"

"Aye, and what about my little Bella? She started havin' fits at about that time, then she lost her baby!"

"My cows all did the same!"

The crowd fast threatening to turn into a mob as more and more misfortunes, from the petty to the more serious, were shouted out, being blamed on the dwarves. Thorin pushed Balin behind him as he began to casually sidle toward the door, hand tight about the hilt of his sword. One of the men, a large, overly muscled farmer, pushed to the front, and Thorin tensed himself to draw his weapon, only to feel one of Balin's hands clamp down hard on his wrist.

"Don't, lad, there are too many of them and too few of us."

The other dwarf lord whispered in his ear, which unfortunately drew the suspicions of the crowd.

"They mean to put an evil spell on us!"

"Lord Thorin!" The strange voice made Thorin start to turn in attack, only to recognize it a moment later as Bofur. "We need to leave! Now! I know what's wrong, and they'll be no sense from'em!"

The Broadbeam thrust his hand around the royal dwarf and opened it to display kernels of wheat. Almost half were an unhealthy, bloated black. Balin immediately stepped forward, hands raised in supplication as he gave them a short bow.

"We seem to have made some mistake, and beg your most humble pardon, good men. We will be taking our leave immed-"

"Dwarves command the stone, you must have told the rock to cave in down by the river and trap my Kalan!"

That last, shouted by the red-faced husband of the woman, changed everything. Like a wild thing, the woman turned on her husband, leaping onto his back with a scream of utter despair. Where she acquired the knife, Thorin could not say, but she plunged it into the man's torso several times before anyone could move to stop her. The dwarf was not about to wait for the outcome. Turning, he pushed Balin and Bofur ahead of him and out into the hot sun of midday. Had they truly been in there for several hours?

"Now what?"

Thorin spat bitterly, kicking at a child's ball as he passed. How could they possibly find Kíli now?

"Stay here a moment."

Bofur told them, running off before either older dwarf could remind him that they needed to leave, now! The Broadbeam instead approached two children listlessly scratching at the dirt with a stick, talking earnestly to them. One nodded, a skinny arm pointing down a path that led out of the village. Smiling, Bofur gave the girl a pat on the head and a small wooden carving before hurrying back over to them.

"The lass says there's a cave near the water at the end of the path. That's where the couple's lad died."

"You think one of them put Kíli there?"

Balin sounded as skeptical as Thorin felt, but the hatted dwarf shrugged.

"'Tis worth a look. Better than fighting this whole village."

Thorin could never repay Bofur enough for insisting upon that seemingly small chance. One look had been all the dwarves needed to see the signs of a recent, purposely caused cave-in. Bifur had brought a contingent of the miners among them, making short work of the rock pile even in the stifling heat of the cave. And when they opened it up…

Thorin had been certain Kíli was as dead as the several weeks old corpse of the couple's son. Lifeless, the tiny body had felt so fragile in Thorin's rough warrior hands, then Óin had all but snatched the boy from him. The healer had taken the child right into the water of the stream, muttering all the while about heat and either ignoring or not hearing every shouted question from the bank.

Kili's heart still beat, but the dwarfling would not wake. Thorin, Dis and Vidri had taken it in turn carrying the boy and his brother, who would not let Kíli out of his sight, through the night. They had dared not stop, wanting only to put leagues between them and the cursed little village, following the river so that they could keep wrapping Kíli in wet clothes to cool him.

Finally, as Thorin sank wearily down onto a log in the shade to take a break and eat lunch, the child stirred. Brown eyes blinked open to stare blankly up at him, and the prince was quick to brush a bit of sugar-water across the boy's lips.

"Kíli…!"

Dis was on her knees next to him, but Thorin could not spare her or any of the other dwarves crowding around them a glance. Kíli flinched at his mother's voice, but made no other sign of recognition, only a tongue licking at lips telling them the boy was cognizant. Hand shaking, Thorin brushed the wet cloth across Kili's mouth again, and this time, the boy opened his lips, sucking on the cloth when it was placed there.

"Good lad. Do you want some more?"

Óin's voice was overly loud, but none of the others seemed to notice or care. The healer handed Thorin a newly dripping cloth, both smiling when the lad gave a short nod. Silence descended, the only sounds the wind in the trees, the burble of the stream and the soft sucking of Kíli at the cloth. Dis began to gently wipe her son's face with another cloth and he finally shifted his eyes to focus on her. A small form wormed his way past his elders until the blonde dwarfling could stand next to his brother, between Óin and Dis. Fíli reached up to gently stroke his brother's hair.

"Kíli?"

"Fee…"

A hand reached out to be securely captured by the older boy as the older dwarves all breathed a sigh of relief at hearing the barely intelligible word. Dis laughed aloud, which quickly turned into a sob, her husband pulling her close. The little dwarfling's face screwed up in puzzlement as he strained to look around at his elders.

"I felled outta the tree? Is Mister Dwalin mad?"

Thorin let out the breath he had been holding, eyes darting up to meet the large warrior's as the other huffed in annoyance. The big hand he reached over to rest on the lad's head was gentle, however.

"No, lad, I'm not mad. It used to rain dwarflings every day in Erebor! Do you remember anything else?"

"I don-" Kíli broke off with a huge yawn. "I don't know. My head's all funny and mixed up! Did I shake it too hard?"

That brought laughter from all sides, a smile even stretching Thorin's lips as the boy closed his eyes, settling back down into slumber. Óin held up a hand, and everyone quickly quieted, waiting the healer's words.

"I think the lad will be just fine, but if he does not remember anything after falling on Dwalin, none of you are to push him! Best the lad never recall whatever he went through in that cave."

Thorin could only pray that the wish came true, settling into an exhausted, and peaceful, slumber that night, never realizing that the incident would surface again many, many years and miles from that small village, drowning in sorrow.