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The first thing Fili thinks of is his mother, and how ridiculous is that? His brother has just been slain before his eyes, and he's frozen there, wondering how he is supposed to tell his mother.
Dís is a proud dwarf, the daughter of kings and mother of heirs, but even she was reluctant to let her only boys go on this quest with their uncle, and had only been persuaded when Fili had promised to look after his brother, to not let anything befall him, and with the added promise from Thorin, she had let them go.
And now Fili is standing frozen as Kili falls, less than ten feet from him, with an orc spear through his chest. Kili doesn't make a sound, dies quietly and bloodily, like they had joked so long ago when their hobbit had first heard the cries of orcs, joked that a raid in the night would be quiet and quick, with lots of blood. Such fools they were then, so young. And Fili is almost glad that Kili dies so quickly and so quietly, because the sight is enough to stop his heart and he doesn't think he could bear to hear the dying cries of his brother.
As it is, Fili's swords feel too heavy to hold, his breath caught in his chest and he can't lift his arms anymore, can't take his eyes off his brother's still form on the ground, where he is being trampled by orcs and elves and men in the heat of the battle when no one has time to be respectful of the fallen.
Thorin is roaring somewhere behind him, and Fili wonders distantly if he knows he only has one heir left, but he is shouting for Fili to move, and there is a break in his voice and Fii thinks he must know. Thorin is battling his way to his nephew, his only nephew now, because Fili still can't make himself move.
Really it's a miracle that it takes so long, or maybe it is the Ainur taking pity on Fili, a half now without its whole, but suddenly there is a gaping wound opening in his chest, a physical injury to match the raw pain that has been burning there ever since Kili fell and stopped moving. The orc behind him shrieks, and there is a sound from Thorin much closer than he had been before, a sound more like a wail of despair than a roaring battle cry, and Fili feels himself fall back against his uncle behind him and suddenly he cannot see Kili's prone form anymore, can barely see anything as every weak and faltering beat of his heart pulses more blood over his chest and his uncle's hands as they try in vain to stem the flow.
Fili's hearing is leaving him and his vision is going white at the edges. He wants to apologize to Thorin for leaving him without heirs, but he can't draw enough breath to form the words. He closes his eyes and thinks he hears Kili's voice, thinks he is going mad in his final moments on Middle-earth.
Fili's last thought, a stuttering half-formed thing that brushes his mind and takes his conscious, his life with it when it leaves, is that he won't have to tell his mother that he failed her and let her youngest fall.