It seemed to Kili that he had been drifting through the cosmos for an eternity and he had seen, no imagined many strange wonders beyond his comprehension. Slowly, he began to become aware of his physical surroundings again. First, the bed beneath his back and then pain, much pain throughout his body. The worst was centered around his abdomen, but he cannot recall for the life of him what had happened to him. The last thing he remembered was charging towards Ravenhill astride a battle goat, with his uncle, Fili and Dwalin with him. His mind shoots off random thoughts. Where was that battle goat? Was it dead? A sudden feeling of dread over came him, one which he couldn't shake. What had happened to Fili and his uncle? He heard voices around him, none of which were familiar to him, but one. That voice belonged to Oin. Oin. So Oin was here, where-ever here was. There were two possibilities that sprung to his muggled mind...
The first, and to him the most likely because the sleeping draughts he had been given to help him heal were affecting his thinking, was that he was in the Halls of Mahal. It would explain the strange, drifting sensation he had experienced in his draught induced sleep. A small smile spread across his face. If Mahal's Halls was indeed the place he was located, then the others of the company must still be living, and only in and Oin were....
But if that were so, then why did he feel pain? He was sure that if he was in the Maker's Halls, then there would be no pain in his body at all, and that knee of his was almost as bad as the pain shooting through his abdomen. He uttered a groan, not because of the pain he was in, but because one of those strange, random thoughts popped into his head as he lie there. If he was in somewhere in Erebor, then apart from Oin's company, he was alone, for he recognized none of the other voices and that meant his uncle and the others of the company were gone, and they were ones residing in Mahal's Halls.
He felt strong hands lift him into a sitting position and a mug pressed against his lips. He is told to drink, and he does so, drinking too quickly. He chokes and coughs, because it has been some time since he last drank and his mouth and throat are parched. Ever patient, Oin waits until he recovers himself and he tells him to try again, but this time drinking more slowly. He does so, and he loses his hold on reality, and that drifting sensation soon returns as the sleeping draught takes effect. He dreams.
He regained consciousness some time later. He had no idea how much time had passed since the battle, or since he was last aware of his surroundings. He remembered, or thought he remembered being awake, but his mind was full of fog and confusion. How long ago had it been? The pain was less now, but was that because he had begun to heal, or was it because the sleeping draught Oin had given him still was still in effect? The one pain that didn't hurt less was that in his leg where the Morgul arrow had struck him. He could hear voices, but none of them were the ones he longed to hear, those of his brother and his uncle. Where was Dwalin? Had he been injured too? For the moment, that was a mystery. He was thirsty, his throat dry enough to cause him to cough. His cough was loud enough to catch the attention of a passing dwarrowdam who rushed off to fetch a tankard of water. She placed it into his hands, and as he brought it to his lips, he spilled half of it because the sleeping draught was effecting his movements. He was just glad when the cool water touched his lips and he was able to rid his throat of the dryness. Taking note that he had spilled it, the dwarrowdam took the empty tankard off him and went away to refill it. When she returned, he was able to get a good look at her for the first time. She seemed tired, and sorrowful. He tried to speak to her, but his voice came out hoarse and he had to take another drink before he could make himself understood.
"Thank you, my lady. Tell me, is there any word at all of my Uncle, and my brother? I fear they may have gone to the Halls of the Maker."
She looks at him, blankly, as she clearly didn't know who he was - to her, he was just another dwarven solider who had been hurt in the battle who needed care to recover. "I am sorry, but I don't know. If you tell me who you are, I shall see about inquiring for you." He lifts up his hand to show her the ring that was on his finger, and gives her an amused smile.
"You don't recognize one of your princes when you see him? I am Kili. King Thorin is my uncle. I've heard no word of his fate, or that of my brother, Fili."
She looks at him in shock for a moment before bowing her head in respect. "Of course! I shall see to it right away, my lord." She rushes off to make inquiries.
The first, and to him the most likely because the sleeping draughts he had been given to help him heal were affecting his thinking, was that he was in the Halls of Mahal. It would explain the strange, drifting sensation he had experienced in his draught induced sleep. A small smile spread across his face. If Mahal's Halls was indeed the place he was located, then the others of the company must still be living, and only in and Oin were....
But if that were so, then why did he feel pain? He was sure that if he was in the Maker's Halls, then there would be no pain in his body at all, and that knee of his was almost as bad as the pain shooting through his abdomen. He uttered a groan, not because of the pain he was in, but because one of those strange, random thoughts popped into his head as he lie there. If he was in somewhere in Erebor, then apart from Oin's company, he was alone, for he recognized none of the other voices and that meant his uncle and the others of the company were gone, and they were ones residing in Mahal's Halls.
He felt strong hands lift him into a sitting position and a mug pressed against his lips. He is told to drink, and he does so, drinking too quickly. He chokes and coughs, because it has been some time since he last drank and his mouth and throat are parched. Ever patient, Oin waits until he recovers himself and he tells him to try again, but this time drinking more slowly. He does so, and he loses his hold on reality, and that drifting sensation soon returns as the sleeping draught takes effect. He dreams.
He regained consciousness some time later. He had no idea how much time had passed since the battle, or since he was last aware of his surroundings. He remembered, or thought he remembered being awake, but his mind was full of fog and confusion. How long ago had it been? The pain was less now, but was that because he had begun to heal, or was it because the sleeping draught Oin had given him still was still in effect? The one pain that didn't hurt less was that in his leg where the Morgul arrow had struck him. He could hear voices, but none of them were the ones he longed to hear, those of his brother and his uncle. Where was Dwalin? Had he been injured too? For the moment, that was a mystery. He was thirsty, his throat dry enough to cause him to cough. His cough was loud enough to catch the attention of a passing dwarrowdam who rushed off to fetch a tankard of water. She placed it into his hands, and as he brought it to his lips, he spilled half of it because the sleeping draught was effecting his movements. He was just glad when the cool water touched his lips and he was able to rid his throat of the dryness. Taking note that he had spilled it, the dwarrowdam took the empty tankard off him and went away to refill it. When she returned, he was able to get a good look at her for the first time. She seemed tired, and sorrowful. He tried to speak to her, but his voice came out hoarse and he had to take another drink before he could make himself understood.
"Thank you, my lady. Tell me, is there any word at all of my Uncle, and my brother? I fear they may have gone to the Halls of the Maker."
She looks at him, blankly, as she clearly didn't know who he was - to her, he was just another dwarven solider who had been hurt in the battle who needed care to recover. "I am sorry, but I don't know. If you tell me who you are, I shall see about inquiring for you." He lifts up his hand to show her the ring that was on his finger, and gives her an amused smile.
"You don't recognize one of your princes when you see him? I am Kili. King Thorin is my uncle. I've heard no word of his fate, or that of my brother, Fili."
She looks at him in shock for a moment before bowing her head in respect. "Of course! I shall see to it right away, my lord." She rushes off to make inquiries.
