27When he woke there was nothing but confusion. The leaves on the trees above him were blurred and the light caused searing pain to course through his head. He lay there for a moment longer, until he had finally regained control over his body. He slowly stood, the world still indistinguishable under his own two feet.
Where am I?
The questioned played over in his mind. And the more he thought about it the more it frustrated him; he knew where he was, and he knew how he had gotten there, but he felt as though the memory had escaped him. He took another glance around, feeling uncertain once more about his surroundings. He was damp, and the sword sheath that was attached to his belt was empty. Another weapon remained fixed in its place however, and he only noticed its existence when he found the string running across the front of his chest. What was he doing with a bow? He carefully removed the weapon from its place before laying it in the dirt beside him. It was beautifully carved, the small details on the side taking his focus from what was really happening. How did he come across a weapon so beautiful? He did not know; he did not know very much at all, the more thought he put into it. He walked closer to the water's edge, and without any hesitation cupped his hands and drank from the flowing river. Further out towards the center of the brook, the rapids were running fast. He ran his hands down the front of his tunic again reassuringly; it was damp, as it was just a few moments before. He looked towards the sky, and its dull colour sent a shiver through his body. Night was closing in, and he didn't know what to do. The only thing that came to his mind was fire, find firewood, and make a fire. He gathered the bow from where he had left it, and almost instinctively slung it into place.
As he walked further into the thicket he put almost all of his concentration into his next step. The undergrowth was dark, and a cool air swept over him, making him realize only just now, how cold he really was. He needed to find firewood, and he was going to have to find somewhere to sleep. Why was he walking through this forest? Why was he lost in the threatening darkness alone? How was he going to find his way out? He had no recollection of where he was, or where he was going, he just needed to push on and start a fire.
Fili stared into the night, he was lost… so lost. Who was he now, the other half of him was gone and washed away. He could hear the river running, and he could feel the calm waters lapping at the front of his leather boots.
Kili can't swim…Kili can't swim.
Tears had welled in his eyes, the only thing preventing him from releasing them being hope that his little brother would appear from the darkness. His little brother; his chest felt heavy at the thought of him, and the last time their eyes had met before the torrents had pulled him under and out of sight. Kili's hand was so close, just out of reach. At the moment his brother's grip failed on the pony's reins, Fili's heart had stopped, and all of the yelling and frightened cries of the company ceased to affect him, an inaudible blur surrounding the events that had just taken place.
Suddenly he was pulled back into consciousness and out of the mourning state that had taken over his mind. A soft hand was placed on his shoulder, he couldn't turn to face whoever the hand belonged to, he had let his brother fall. Bofur's grip was tight around his arm, but he couldn't resist against it, all of his energy was gone. The old toymakers eyes were full of tears, ready to take the place of the ones that had already rolled down his cheeks, and in seeing this, Fili let out an uncontrollable cry. The sobs wracked his body, and nothing, not even the tight embrace that he had now been pulled into was going to ease his guilt.
The company's sadness at the scene that had unfolded before their eyes caused silence and the shedding of tears, only the sound of the haunting river and the young prince's cries of anguish could be heard. It was all too surreal for them. How could they accept the young archer's fate, the cheery young dwarfling with high spirits? Nobody uttered, and even the clearing of ones throat seemed to be disrespectful to the line of Durin in such a time as this.
Balin stood, and without a word turned and walked towards the streams bank where Bofur was holding Fili in his arms. The sight before him was one that would have unnerved even the strongest and most heartless of all beings. He knelt down until he was face to face, but the young prince's once proud and strong stature was gone, and Balin saw a young boy, shattered by the distressing events that had occurred, longing for his brother's touch. He was there to coax him away from the water's edge and back to warmth, but somehow in his heart he could not summon the courage for any words, instead he cleared the matted hair that had now covered his face and gripped his arm. Balin could see the hurt he was feeling, even when his face was turned away. He pulled Fili into a standing position with Bofurs much needed support, and hauled him back to the fire and the company, with Fili, keeping his eyes on the never changing darkness, with that hope still shadowing his mind, that his brother would return to him.