Kili's heart sinks a bit when Bitty admits to having been subjected to that awful place. What Beth had told him of it had been horrible enough, and he's selfishly relieved that he hadn't been forced to endure it himself. He knows what he would have seen: his brother and uncle, accusing and chastising; his mother and father, disappointed in his failures as an heir of Durin; and perhaps even himself, the part that's still flooded with guilt over the fact that he hadn't been there to save his brother. All his life, Fili had been the one to keep him out of trouble, even if he was right there causing it with him; but that day, on Ravenhill, Kili should have been able to do the same.

There's no need to be in the other Darrow to face the demons inside him, he supposes. He does it enough to himself right here.

Which makes it all the more necessary to shift his focus to things of a brighter nature. For a little while, especially when Fili had been angry with him for keeping his own death a secret, Kili had worried that he wouldn't be able to pull himself from the self-pity and sorrow he'd been feeling. It'd been with the help of his friends that he'd managed to keep his head held high, as a rightful Durin's son should. He doesn't know Bitty very well yet but in troublesome times, Kili thinks it is most helpful to be surrounded by those who mean nothing but the best; and so, if he can help lighten the weight on Bitty's shoulders in any way, he is happy to do it.

"But you were not alone," Kili says gently, reaching out to lay a comforting hand against Bitty's arm, "and I am glad for it. Being safely returned here makes this Thanksgiving celebration all the more important, does it not? Though I must admit, for me, it's more to do with the food than anything else."