I've been very nice today don't you think. Four new chapters; haven't I been busy. Enjoy this one. I hope to make you cry lots but I don't think that's going to happen. If I suceed in my vilianous quest please tell me. I like emotional response (that is why I have my dear friend, who can't be named coz then Gandalf would know who I am. She likes to cry!) Read on!

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The little company of four continued as planned for a further tiring three days. After the fourth leg of their journey Sabrielle called a stop.

    “We camp here for now,” she declared attempting to keep the weariness from her voice, “Four hours and we’ll continue.” Fili slid clumsily off Êlthalion looking dismayed and tired. Even when he had the time to rest he found he could not for long. Sleep was plagued with fitful dreams and he’d wake in a cold sweat only to be stared at by Sabrielle in pity. From a young age he had been taught that proper dwarves never showed weakness. His cold was clearing though so he was not as miserable as at the start of the journey but to replace his scratching throat he had an aching backside. To say he was saddle sore was an understatement.

    “Take heart, Fili,” the elf smiled softly resting a slim hand on his shoulder, “Ten more hours tomorrow and we’re there. You can rest in a proper bed with soft sheets and your brother will be well. How is he?” Fili sighed and rolled his shoulders to ease his stiff muscles.

    “I do not know,” he complained, “He does not seem any different to me. He was the same as usual; hot and restless.” Sabrielle nodded, she had been fairly confident that the ill dwarf would not be any better but miracles do happen and the elf considered herself generally an optimist. She turned her attention to her dark-haired companion. She placed her delicate hand on his sweaty head and her green eyes widened. Quickly she checked his pulse and his forehead again.

    ‘No,’ Sabrielle thought to herself as her heart began to gallop in panic, ‘This is not good. Kili’s fever has deepened. Without immediate attention he is sure to die. I did not come all this way to be so close only to return his lifeless body to Erebor!’

    “Fili,” she tried to keep her voice calm as her pulse raced, “I understand you are very tired, as am I and Êlthalion but we need to push on.” Fili sleepily gazed up from this seat on the ground confused.

    “We need to keep going,” the elf stated firmly, “Please get back on again. This is important. We can’t rest now.” Seeing the barely hidden fear in her eyes Fili did not hesitate to obey. He’d barely scrambled onto the horse when Sabrielle took off with renewed vigour; much faster than she’d ran the whole way. Êlthalion took off at a gallop to catch up to her fleeing friend. The elf continued at the speeding pace never seeming to tire. How she’d found the strength I guess we’ll never know but fear and the determination to save the life of a dear one does strange things to some people. The little party reached the Ford of Isen in almost record time and did not slow until they were at the foot of Sabrielle’s door.

The elf bent over only momentarily to catch her breath before rushing to pull Kili off the horse and bridle carry him swiftly inside. Red faced and quite out of breath she ducked into one of the guest rooms slamming the door behind her with a booted foot. Fili, who had been following closely behind, was confused at having the door slammed in his face. Through the wall he could hear lots of clattering and shifting before the door was thrown open and out burst Sabrielle.

    “Run out and fill this with water,” the elf commanded shoving a large wooden bowl into his hands before slamming the door again. Soon he returned with the required water. Sabrielle merely nodded her thanks and took it from him. Exhausted and muddled, Fili sunk down onto the wooden floorboards next to the door leaning his back against the wall and drifted into unconsciousness. He slowly awoke some hours later to find the door was open so he wandered inside.

Sabrielle was seated next to the bed, elbows on knees creating a cradle for her dark head, drifting in oblivion. In the bed Kili lay, deathly pale and lifelessly limp, drenched in a glittering sheen of sweat. Fili coughed a little and the elf’s head snapped up startled from her doze.

    “Oh. Fili,” she mumbled, “Sorry I didn’t hear you come in.” She shifted in her chair. “I can’t do anything more. I’ve tried everything and now it’s up to him. He’ll pull through if he’s got the strength. He can hear us I’m sure. Talk to him and he’ll listen. I’ll get us something to eat.” The elf began to rise but Fili pressed down on her shoulders stopping her movements.

    “No,” he stated forcefully, “I will get food and then you will go to bed. And stay there until I say otherwise.” Sabrielle’s mouth quirked in the corners.

    “Yes, my Lord,” she croaked bowing her head in mock respect. Fili gave her a short nod before leaving to the kitchen.

It was a simple affair. As you entered from the hall a hearth for cooking rested in the far right corner. In the fair left was a barrel full of washing and drinking water next to a sink. In the centre of the room was the large oak dining table and the closer right corner held the preparation bench. Between the hearth and the bench was a little door which led to the pantry where all the food was stored. Fili pulled out a wide wooden plate from the recess under the preparation bench and proceeded towards the pantry door. There he collected various items of food; a loaf of bread, hunk of soft cheese, a bunch of red grapes, some dried berries, a cucumber and a handful of dates, before returning to the room his brother was occupying. 

    “Eat up,” he commanded not unkindly, placing the platter before her. Sabrielle waited patiently staring at him.

    “My Lord,” she deadpanned, “As next in line to the House of Durin you must start the meal, Your Highness.” She held it out to the blonde dwarf as an offering. His face cracked in a smile as he remembered the old joke between them and he took a date.

    “Happy now?” he questioned cocking an eyebrow.

    “Very.”

Of course Sabrielle, as stubborn as her dwarven friends, did not do entirely what she was asked. Before going to bed she snuck out and took care of Êlthalion, apologising to the horse for the hard ride and then not caring for her properly. As a token of her remorse she set the horse out into the wild vowing not to ride her again for the period of two months. This was often the way the pair made up. Fili, naturally, did not leave his brother’s side and so did not hear about the violation of his terms. Sabrielle slept peacefully until morning but not Fili.

    “Remember the time that we stole Uncle’s shoes?” he reminisced in an almost whisper, hoping his brother would reply. “And he thought that Ori’s new puppy had taken them. He got so mad that we just had to give them back. Or the time that you found that tankard of ale sitting on the bench and drunk it all? It was Uncle’s. Don’t you remember? You were only eleven. He’d filled it up but then had to rush outside to help mother with carting water. You were so tipsy. Gee that was funny. What about when Dwalin and Balin brought Uncle home and he was stone drunk? Surely you remember that. Or breaking Bombor’s favourite saucepan? That was me though. I couldn’t sit down for a week.” Fili sighed and looked over at his brother. The cloth was dry so he changed it with one of the ones from the water bowl. “Kili,” he whispered, “I’m going to tell you a secret.” Fili lent in close, right next to his brother’s ear. “I’m scared,” he admitted voice shaking softly, “I don’t want you to leave. I’ll do anything for you if you just come back. Kili, I love you so so much. Don’t make me go on alone because I don’t think I can do it. Not without you.”

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Anyone want to tell me how much they hate me? Sweet Fili moments! And Kili's ill again! He just can't stay healthy for two minutes (I am talking about the movie so if you haven't seen it I advise you do.) I have a question of the utmost importance! When you good people are reading books or watching films and a character gets hurt do you feel as though you are having a less painful version of the same wound/illness? And who wants Legolas and/or Gollum to appear in my story? And Nadadith is Khazdul for little brother. Until we meet again!

~SpanishFox