Saeril was stubborn, but so was Kili. Despite her telling him not to, Kili still blamed himself for her injury. "Oin had said to keep weight off of it," he reminded in a small voice. Had this been Fili, Kili would have argued more, but Saeril was a mother figure, and arguing with one's mother was much different than arguing with a sibling. 

As Gandalf aided Thorin, Kili watched, his heart sinking. Surely Thorin was not dead...he could not comprehend losing him like this, he could not fathom what that would do to their family, let alone their people. Without Thorin, Fili would become king, and they would be without their only uncle. "Gandalf?"

To the youngest's relief, Thorin's eyes slowly opened. With a shuddered breath, Thorin looked to Gandalf, his vision blurred. 
"The halfling...and the she-elf," he could barely string the words together, but that was the last he could remember. Bilbo and Saeril had come to his aid, and they very well may have lost their lives.