A/N: Dedicated to a reviewer who with her kindness shamed my lazy ass back into action. You know who you are :)

As expected Thranduil was not alone in the medical wing when Thorin rushed through the doors. He regarded the other dwarfs, before rushing forward and shouldering them aside. They parted easily enough, and he was not obstructed until he made it to the bed, where Fili and Kili were sitting, clasping the elf's hands.

"Stand aside!" They didn't move, but when Thorin made to clasp Fili on the shoulder and pull him aside Kili sprang up and shoved his uncle hard in the chest.

"No!" he screamed. "You get out! You shouldn't even be here! It's because of you he's here like this."

"Kili…"

"No. I don't want to hear your excuses or apologies uncle. It won't help him so it means nothing!" Kili's hands were clenched into fists. Thorin attempted to glare him down but it only sparked resolve in his eyes. A heavy tension settled on the room.

"Where's Oin?" asked Thorin.

"Here, your majesty." Oin stepped around his brother to stand beside Thorin, still glaring down his nephew.

"How is he?"

"Weak."

"And the cause." There was a rustle of fabric as Oin shrugged.

"Could be the fall," he muttered, but sounded unconvinced. "Could be something else. Anything really. I'm a dwarrow medic sire, elves are strange to me."

"Then what good are you?!" roared Thorin, breaking the stare and spinning on Oin. A moment later he felt himself being shoved head first into a nearby stone pillar.

"Don't you shout at Oin!" roared Kili, hands still tangled root deep in Thorin's hair. "He's done nothing but try and help. Unlike you, you murderer!"

"Get off, or I'll have you in chains!"

"Oh yeah? I'd…"

"Kili, that's enough." Fili sounded exhausted. It was not his voice, or rather it was for it spilled from his mouth in sync with the heavy roll of his lips, but it lacked his usual benevolence, his cheerful, cheeky disposition. In fact it lacked any living quality. It was a voice forged from stone, cold and lacklustre like wind blowing on an empty plain.

Kili immediately disengaged from his uncle and stumbled to the bed.

"But brother he…"

"It doesn't matter now." Fili leaned over the elf and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. "Sleep meleth," he whispered. Then he rose from the bed, and without looking at anyone, left the room. Kili opened his mouth as though to say more to his uncle, but instead gave a disgusted, exasperated sigh and followed his brother out. Silence reigned for long, heavy minutes. Finally Thorin, having claimed the vacant spot on the bed, spoke quietly.

"Everyone get out."

"Thorin…" Balin placed a consolatory hand on Thorin's shoulder.

"I said get out!" roared the dwarf, springing up and turning on the room. "Get out! Leave us!" No one moved, struck dumb into silent awe. Finally, with one shake of his head, Balin stepped away.

"Ok laddie, ok." He said and left the room, with the rest of the company soon following with equal number of cautious and compassionate looks at Thorin.

When they were all gone, Thorin finally allowed himself to cry; and cry he did. Collapsing heavily against Thranduil's chest he wept until it hurt to breath and his head was heavy and congested.

"Oh Aulë, what have I done?! "

"Precisely what you set out to do I imagine." Thorin sprang from the bed and turned on the intruder. How dare someone eavesdrop on his moment of grief? More so how dare they interrupt his mourning? From a little door in the corner of the room Gandalf emerged, as though stepping forward from a tangle of shadows.

"Gandalf? What are you doing here?"

"I was invited, if you recall, to the most highly anticipated wedding in Middle Earth since the union of Bard the Bowman and Lady Filial Merrydew." There was no customary gleam in his eyes. Thorin hung his head and reclaimed his seat.

"The wedding, of course." He muttered, but his mind was already elsewhere.

"Now it appears there will be a delay in festivities." Thorin remained silent, and after a while the rustle of long robes move across the room indicating that Gandalf had claimed a nearby bed.

"Help me Gandalf," he whispered when the silence and the potent smell of pipe weed became too much to bear. "I can't…" But he didn't know how to finish that sentence. Can't what? Can't loose him? But you were happy to do so less than an hour ago. Can't bear to see him hurt? But you hurt him plenty last night. Perhaps you can't live with yourself for what you've done, and even there you're on your own my friend. No one can carry this burden for you.

"I know." Said the wizard as though privy to his internal monologue and in full agreement. "Wish that I could, but I am no healer. However…"

"I am." Spoke a different voice. Standing in the doorway was Elrond. No doubt another victim of Bilbo's enthusiastic dispatch of wedding invitations. Thorin thought he must have been very deep in his thoughts indeed to miss the loud creek of the hinge. None the less he sprang off the bed and bowed. Uncharacteristic of him perhaps, but he was desperate enough to get on his knees and grovel if that's what it took. Elrond, however, barely acknowledged his presence. He strode quickly to the bed and pressed the palm of his hand to Thranduil's burning brow.

"Oh meleth," he said with a quite sadness that sparked suspicion in Thorin's heart. "What has been done to you?"

"What can be done to fix him?" demanded Thorin, unable to watch in silence as Elrond stroked Thranduil's cheek, whispering kindly in his own lyrical tongue. Ignoring Thorin, Elrond cupped Thranduil's face between his palms, leaned down and pressed their foreheads together in a gesture so intimate that Thorin would have protested had Gandalf not chosen that moment to speak.

"You've been a foolish dwarf on many an occasion Thorin Oakenshield, but if you interrupt Elrond now your foolishness will cost you more than just your pride."

"Why is he doing that?" Thorin gestured frantically at the intimate clasp between the elves. Elrond had his eyes closed, his lips all but sharing the same air with Thranduil. "How is that going to help anything?"

"Elves invest heavily into the healing of the mind. They believe a healthy mind can provide the willpower to heal physical ailments." Thorin gave a dubious snort.

"You do not believe master dwarf that healing starts from within?"

"He fell down the stairs Gandalf. He needs treatment, not therapy."

"Uh yes, but why did he fall down the stairs?"

"I don't' know, he slipped. The stairs in the west wing can be treacherous." Shrugged Thorin.

"Oh but elves are known to be quite nimble on their feet, even those in the final stage of confinement."

"What are you saying?" Thorin barked, spinning on Gandalf like a cornered dog. "You think he was pushed? Nonsense!"

"I do not think he was pushed." Gandalf was gazing deeply into Thorin's eyes.

"Then what?"

"I believe master Oin had mentioned a fever. An unusual malady in an elf. Very few conditions can raise an elves' temperature."

"Like what?" Gasped Thorin. He feared exposure more than anything. He couldn't bear to face the shame of what he'd done. Gandalf watched him sternly for a long moment before leaning back to resume his smoking.

"Oh I don't like to speculate," he muttered with his usual neutrality. "We'll just have to wait and see."

Kili, having caught up with his brother in the hallway stormed into his room ahead of the demure Fili.

"I can't believe him I swear! That cruel, unremorseful bastard!" He kicked a nearby stone table, then set his face into a fierce scowl to hide how much it hurt. Fili, well versed in his brother's actions, silently waved him to a chair. "He's not fit to be king. By Aulë, he's not fit to be a dwarf." Continued Kili, and banged his fist on the table in retribution for his aching foot, then winced and placed it gently in his lap. "Let him go live with the orcs, he'd be better suited around his own kind. I can't believe we're even related."

"I can." Said Dis, stepping into the room and heading straight for Fili. "My boy." She said. "Don't fret. Things have a way of working out." She kissed him gently atop his head then turned to Kili. "As for you, you know better than to cripple yourself in a fit of rage. What did I tell you the last time you broke a toe kicking the forge table?"

"That if I ever break another you'll cut it off."

"And so I will. Look at you acting like a child, banging furniture and calling your uncle an orc."

"You did." Dis winced.

"I suppose Dori told you, that big gossip?"

"No, actually, I did." They all watched Bilbo slink into the room. "I thought it was great what you said Lady Dis." His cheery tone contrasted with his face, which was stricken by a great sadness. "I'm sorry I don't mean to interrupt. I just heard." He muttered. "About Thranduil. I…" He wiped away a stray tear. "Well it's my fault you see. What happened to him it's all my fault." Suddenly he broke down and if it wasn't for Dis foreseeing the inevitable, he would have surely fallen to the ground.

"There, there dear," she said holding his face against her shoulder and patting his hair with a mother's gentle touch. "What nonsense is this? Of course it's not your fault."

"But it is!" cried Bilbo. "If I hadn't gone to Thranduil for advise, Thorin wouldn't have been mad at him."

"What are you talking about?" said Fili. "What advice?"

"Uh…" Bilbo was unsure if he should speak about his affection for another dwarf in front of his future sister-in-law. "A matter of a personal nature."

"You mean Bofur?" Bilbo glared at Fili, but Dis only smiled.

"It's ok love, I know all about that. Nothing escapes this dwarrow's keen eye when it comes to matters of the heart." She laughed. Bilbo stepped away from her in disbelief.

"And you're not mad?"

"Mad? Why of course not. Why should I be mad? I know very well why my brother asked you to marry him, just as I know why you agreed, and neither of those things were done with thoughts of love in mind." Embarrassed, Bilbo studied the floor.

"Bilbo! What advice?" Urged Fili, springing up from his seat.

"Oh, well I asked him if I should go ahead with the wedding even though my heart belonged to someone else. Out of duty you see. But he told me to follow my heart regardless of consequences. He knew I was afraid to disappoint Thorin after stealing the Arkenstone, but he encouraged me to set aside this fear, and to tell him about my love for Bofur, and consequently my decision to call off the engagement."

"And did you?"

"Well I did speak with him, but he never let me finish. He grew enraged, threw a candle stand to the ground and almost set the bed on fire. He stormed from the room and that's the last I saw of him till morning."

"He must have gone to talk to Thranduil?" Muttered Fili. "Then he must have done something to make him ill."

"We don't know that." Argued Dis. "After all he was present at dinner."

"Yes, but he was missing from breakfast and Thorin discouraged us from visiting him all day." Fili looked to his brother and Kili nodded.

"When I think about it, Mika was looking sickly when she attended to my measurements this afternoon." Said Dis, looking worried. "I asked her what was the matter, and she mentioned that the elven king was not in the highest of spirits. She said his room was frigid. That the fireplace was out and very few candles lit."

"He must have been trying to drop his temperature." Said Fili. "He was already suffering from a fever."

"You can't mean that Thorin had anything to do with that Fili." Reasoned Dis. "How would one go about spreading fever around unless they themselves were ill?"

"I know mother, but something about this doesn't add up. The timing is too perfect to be coincidental. I don't know what happened." He said, storming resolutely towards the door. "But by Aulë I will find out."

Elrond surfaced with a heavy sigh. Even before he spoke Thorin knew the news was not good.

"His spirit is weak, it will not resurface unless his body travels to the undying lands."

"The undying lands?"

"Valinor." Supplied Gandalf.

"Then he must go and stay as long as he needs to get better."

"It is not that simple." Finally Elrond addressed Thorin, but the ferocious anger in his gaze startled the dwarf. "If he leaves he cannot return, and neither can his children. He wishes to have them before he sails so that you may see them. And though I tried to convince him otherwise, and it breaks his heart to do so, he intends to leave them here in your care. He mentioned an agreement, which precludes him from taking the children from Erebor once they're born. Apparently they are welcome here, while he is not." Elrond said the last with so much loathing that Thorin took a cautionary step back. "So I will deliver the children and take him with me to Rivendell, from where he will travel to the coast and sail to Valinor."

"I won't allow…" Thorin started to protest.

"You have no say in the matter." The last of Elrond's composure snapped, and he hissed every word like an angry cat. "And you will not stand in my way King under the mountain, or I will rally every elf, man and beast in Middle Earth and desolate what's left of your precious mountain into rubble." Aghast, Thorin turned to Gandalf for help.

"He will." Said the wizard unhelpfully. "He's ancient and wise, and has the Great Lady Galadriel for a mother-in-law. I would certainly be on his side."

"I will make the arrangements, and though your very presence repulses me, I will still attend these misguided nuptials out of respect for Bilbo Baggins." He turned to Gandalf, nodded politely then swiftly took his leave. After a moment of stunned silence Thorin reclaimed his seat on Thranduil's bedside, and clasped one of his delicate hands between his callused palms. It might have been minutes or hours before Thorin spoke again.

"I've lost him, haven't I?"

Gandalf solemnly doused him pipe.