Kili knelt on the opposite side of an injured boy, his face and clothing covered with soot from the fires they'd escaped from. Fili had been helping to wrap up a scrape on the boy's arm, and Kili had successfully stopped the bleeding on his knee. 
"There you go. That's not so bad," Kili tried to be optimistic for the sake of the wounded, but inwardly, he felt sick. Was this much destruction and pain worth retrieving their homeland for? It felt wrong. These people were paying for their mistakes. How could they ever hope to make up for this?

"That's them! [i]Right there![/i]" A middle aged man pointed towards both brothers, and before Kili could register that they were the ones being referred to, he and Fili were forced to their feet, each by burly, heavyset men. One of them shoved Fili, when Kili moved to defend his brother, he was restrained. 
"It was your kin that did this!" This earned shouts of agreement from the rowdier of the group. "We've lost our kin...now that king of yours will have to lose some of his."

"It appears that orcs aren't the only ones you'll have to watch out for." The stranger speaking to Saeril had taken notice of the confrontation, though he didn't seem phased by the scene ahead of them. "I'll keep your warning in mind, now hear mine. These people will be consumed by anger and grief...and they'll need someone to blame," he moved towards the group, prepared to break it up. "I wouldn't advise that we stay much longer."