It doesn't take much for the emotion in Kili's eyes to be reflected in Frodo's large, blue as they were. If he could bear Kili's sadness he would, even if there's still much and more to bear, he would because Kili is his friend.

Thorin goes to finish his part in one of the great stories, Fili and Kili are left behind. Their own deaths held back, for a time. It's enough to make him swallow hard, because selfishly, Frodo doesn't want Kili to leave. He'd much rather his friend somehow return to Middle-earth, find Gimli and safer company with them while he finishes the journey.

Selfish, silly dreams that won't come true, because he is friends with someone who has already died, long before he was born.

But this isn't about his pain, it's about Kili's. How small and little he seems now, not the brave, wild fighter he knew him to be. The jovial, laughing dwarf who cast something like the sun in his otherwise darkening sight.

And there is nothing he can say.

Not in words.

So he scoots a little closer, moves wordlessly before he presses a thin arm around the other's, dark curls pressed against the side of Kili's head. He twines his arms around him, attached to his side, as if to hold him safe and secure, even if there are so many things that aren't, and will never be for him.

And Frodo begins to feel, for him as well.