The night had been a long one. Kili barely slept; his conscious nagged him, he felt sick to his stomach and the pain only worsened. When morning came, he had to force himself to his feet. The company was rewarded with new clothes, armor, and weaponry. Such gifts should have brought pleasure to all, Kili could not share in the excitement, he merely followed the others down the dock, head hung low.

Upon seeing Saeril's cloaked figure, Kili looked to her with the faintest bit of hope that he might follow. To his dismay, she did not. "She isn't coming with...is she?" Heartbroken, Kili looked to his brother, and then Thorin clasped a hand to his shoulder in order to stop him.

“Not you." Thorin knew that this would crush his nephew, but he was left with no choice. Kili's health had worsened. "We must travel with speed, you will slow us down.” 

Thinking his uncle to be joking, Kili smiled lightly. “What are you talking about? I’m coming with you.”

Thorin's mind had been made up. Bringing Kili would threaten his life more than it was already. “No.”

Kili's worst fears had come to pass. Swallowing hard, he attempted to move forward. “I’m going to be there when that door is opened, when we first look upon the halls of our fathers, Thorin.”

Thorin laid a hand to his shoulder. “Kili, stay here. Rest. Join us when you’re healed.” 

In a state of shock, Kili turned away, his mind reeling.

“I’ll stay with the lad. My duty lies with the wounded.” Oin tried to see to the youngest's injury, but Kili pulled away, refusing treatment of any kind. This was the lowest Kili had ever felt. Thorin had forbid him to come, he had proved himself nothing more than a burden, and he'd even broken his promise to Saeril.