The warg was prowling the woods, its sneaky little eyes looking this way and that in search of prey. A snapping noise behind it caused the warg to pause, the moonlight in the clearing reflecting in the warg's eyes, but at the silence that followed, it disregarded the sound and continued to tread softly over the forest floor.

It did not realise it was being hunted.

Fíli shifted the grip on his sword. He was still young by dwarf standards, a mere thirty years old, but he was soon growing into a competent and capable fighter. His uncle Thorin had seen to his training, and the training of his brother, refusing to let the heirs to Erebor remain incapable of defending themselves.

Fíli took another step forward. A grimace passed over his face as he stepped down on a larger stick, the resulting noise echoing in the trees. There was no doubt in the warg's mind now – he knew he had company.

The warg twisted around. It was only a young warg, but dangerous all the same. It laid its eyes on Fíli, who was slowly reaching for the dagger in his arm sheath. It didn't take the warg long to figure out what Fíli was up to, and with a loud snarl, it bounded forward.

Fíli stood his ground. He swung at the warg with his sword, but it passed over the beast's head. The warg's paws were outstretched, and they found his chest. Fíli was knocked back to the ground, and would have been flattened by the animal had it not overestimated its momentum and gone flying over the dwarf.

Dwarves were not known for being graceful, especially when next to an elf, but they could move fast when they wanted to. Fíli jumped to his feet, just as the warg had started his next attack. With a loud battle cry, Fíli moved to the side, intending to slash at the warg with his dagger. It almost worked, but at the expense of his sword. It went flying out of his hand and disappeared into some bushes.

The brief moment Fíli had used to curse the loss of his sword, the warg had taken advantage of to wrap its jaw around the dwarf's leg. Fíli yelled as teeth pierced through his clothes and into his skin, and he brought the dagger down, burying it deep in the monster's hide. The warg yelped and instinctively let go of Fíli, slinking away to the edge of the clearing while trying to get the dagger out of its back.

Kíli … any moment now … Fíli was weaponless, defenceless, and facing an injured and now enraged warg. Where are you, Kíli? Kíli!

There was no sign of his brother anywhere. The warg, sensing Fíli's mounting fear, snarled its victory, one side of its snout rising in a hideous grin. The warg was in no rush. It had won.

'Kíli?'

A low growl slipped out of the warg's mouth. It pawed at the ground lazily, but Fíli could see the powerful muscles rippling behind the fur.

'Kíli!'

At Fíli's shout, the warg pounced, almost flying over the ground and crossing the clearing in a matter of seconds. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide – the warg was getting closer, so close, Fíli could almost see his terrified reflection in the warg's glowing eyes –

'KÍLI!

At the last moment, unable to bear it, Fíli closed his eyes – just to hear a twang and something whizzing by his ears. When the blow didn't come, Fíli opened them again.

The warg was lying on its side, dead in front of him, with one arrow sticking out of the side of its head.

Kíli, Fíli's brown-haired counterpart, jumped out of a tree, his youthful face shining with a wide grin.

'You took your time!' Fíli said, his voice heated with anger. 'Where were you?'

'Behind you the whole time!' Kíli was on the verge of laughter, twirling his bow in his hands. 'You should have seen your face –'

'For Durin's sake, brother! Do you think this is a laughing matter? Do you think my life is a joke?'

The smile faded, and Kíli started to look troubled. 'I had him in my sights the whole time,' he said, more uncertainly. There was a slight childish pout on his face now. 'You sound like Uncle.'

Fíli shook his head. 'You are far too reckless sometimes, Kíli.'

Kíli frowned. 'Me, reckless? Whose idea was it to go hunting wargs in the first place?'

Fíli didn't have a comeback for that, but by that time his initial anger at his younger brother had faded. He reached over and gave Kíli a light slap over the head, before bringing him into a hug in the next movement.

'I thought I'd lost you,' Fíli sighed, stepping back. 'When you didn't answer my call –'

Kíli was smiling cheekily again. 'Take more than a warg to separate us, brother. It couldn't take a pack of wargs. Nor orcs, nor trolls or giants, not even a dragon.'

'I should hope not,' Fíli muttered. With their bond so strong, both brothers couldn't deny they felt intensely disturbed at even just the possibility that they could get separated one day.

Fíli walked forward, gasping in pain when he found his injured leg couldn't take his weight and gave way underneath him. He would have fallen to the floor if Kíli had not been there to catch him.

'You're hurt!'

'Yes,' Fíli said with gritted teeth, leaning on his brother for support. 'Did you not see the warg bite me? Mr-I-Had-Him-In-My-Sights-The-Whole-Time?'

Kíli flushed. 'I was adjusting my bow.' Before Fíli could admonish him further, Kíli quickly said, 'That looks bad … Mother won't be happy.'

'We'll make up some excuse,' Fíli grunted as they left clearing for the path out of the forest. 'No need to tell her we were hunting wargs.'

'What about Thorin? He knows a warg bite when he sees one. We won't be able to keep the truth from him.'

'Oh really?' Fíli's mouth quirked into a smug grin. 'Watch and learn, brother. Watch and learn.'