Author's Notes: I'm not only learning bits and pieces of Khuzdul and Sindarian, but now I'm trying to teach myself Old Norse, as well. Because I apparently hate myself as much as I love languages (my parents tried to teach my brother and I Latin when we were young). What can I say? I still have a love of languages even if I never became fluent in any of them.

It was bugging me that Moira swears "Odin's beard" in English, even in her mind, when she spent 50 years speaking Old Norse. At some point I'm going to go back and edit that. And things just kind of snowballed from there. I doubt any of my readers are as obsessive as I am, but if you're curious, I've mostly been using the English-to-Old-Norse dictionary that is on (

. Tufts .edu/hopper/definitionlookup?type=exact&q=honey&lang=non )

but also the Vikings of Bjornstad dictionary.( Old_Norse_Dictionary_ ). Only the Perseus site has a search function. Hopefully I'm doing okay and it's not word salad. I'm also trying to teach myself more Khuzdul and Sindarian for future chapters, because I'm nuts.

Imagine what I could do in life if I turned by obsessive personality to something real. Sigh. This chapter is split between Fili's and Moira's POV.

Khuzdul Words:

Amrâlimê = my love (female)

Amrâlumê = my love (male)

Durinultarg = Durin's Beard!

Nadad = brother

Sindarian Words:

Mae govannen = Well met (a greeting)

I've put the Old Norse phrases at the end of the chapter since I feel it would be a bit spoiler-y to have them at the top here.

~0~0~0~

Chapter 25:

Identity Crisis

The next few days of travel passed, thankfully, without event. Moira's dreams still troubled her, but they were not the ones that were intense enough to cause her to scream. That was a blessing from Mahal as far as Fili was concerned. He didn't want to explain their purpose in traveling to Strider. After a few days Fili had to concede that the Man was most likely who he claimed to be. He and Moira had conversed several times and discovered that Faron was not the only mutual acquaintance they shared among the Rangers. That led naturally to a swapping of stories about brothers- and sisters-in-arms that Moira had not seen over the winter, or even longer as they had moved farther afield across Eriador. Often they sat together and talked as they smoked their pipes. A new habit for Moira, Fili couldn't help noticing. Watching her sit and talk and smoke with Strider (and especially when she laughed) made Fili burn with jealously. He hated that response, but couldn't control it. Fili had always known that Moira was a Ranger, and he was also aware that most Rangers were men. That is, males, not simply from the race of Men. Yet somehow he had never pictured her interacting so much with them. She had always seemed so antisocial that picturing her interacting positively with anyone he did not personally know was difficult.

Strider had deduced who they all were that first night before even being told their names. At first, that had made Fili more suspicious. But the Man had pointed out that it was rare to find a company of so many races working so well together, and even with a Hobbit, so far from the Shire! Fili had to admit that he would have had less respect for the mysterious Ranger if he hadn't figured out who they were. After all, how many Dwarves were courting an Elf? That alone was a dead giveaway. Which was why they had avoided entering Bree together in the first place.

Strider deferred to Fili's leadership, and made no comment about the fact that he was never on watch alone. Most often he took up the rear of their group as they traveled, keeping an eye out for approaching Orcs. Still not entirely trusting him enough to have all their backs turned to him, Fili made sure that his brother stayed at the rear with him, with left Kili's pony for Bilbo to ride, since Strider was on foot. Somehow the Ranger never slowed them down, even without a steed. Strider accepted his distrust and wariness with understanding and quiet dignity, and almost against his will Fili felt a sense of respect for the youthful dark-haired Ranger growing in him. It was annoying.

They managed to avoid any more Orc attacks, but a few times they heard Wargs howling in the distance and they knew that they were still being tracked. Moira had told them they would be taking a different path to Rivendell than the one they had entered on the quest. Although she had never used it personally, Strider knew the way to the Ford of the Loudwater well. So Fili supposed it didn't hurt to have him along, just in case Moira's second-hand knowledge of this particular path failed them. Although he felt like a traitor for just thinking it.

One night he awoke to overhear a whispered conversation between Moira and Tauriel when the wood Elf was on watch duty. Instead of rousing to relieve himself, he listened intently, hoping it would clear some things up.

Moira's voice was strained. She hadn't been getting much sleep lately. Not that she ever did. But she slept even less, now.

"You need to stop talking to me about it, Tauriel. Until my connection to Rahl is broken, I may be my own worst enemy."

"Yes, but –"

"Taur, there's a reason I haven't told the others. The more we talk about it, the more it's at the forefront of my mind, the more likely Rahl will find out. And it may be our only advantage right now."

The Elf was quiet for a moment. "Is it getting worse?" Her soft voice was full of worry.

Moira sighed. "I think I can feel his fingers inside my mind, sometimes, digging around. Keeping the shields up is tiring work, and I can't do it forever."

"And you're most vulnerable when you sleep."

A pause. "Yes."

"So the dreams aren't natural, then."

"Not entirely." A sigh. "He's not a Dreamwalker. He can't outright control them, thankfully. That may be the only thing that's saved me so far, and all of you. But there are spells that can help him influence them, yes."

A heavy pause between them again, before Moira spoke again. "Just remember what I told you. Keep it hidden, keep it safe. And for Odin's sake, don't try to use it. It's deadly."

In the dim light Fili saw Tauriel nod solemnly.

"I'll reevaluate when we get to Rivendell." Moira promised the Elf. "But right now, we can't use it, and we can't tell the others. And please, please, stop making methink about it. It's hard enough to control my thoughts as it is."

Well. That just raised more questions than it answered.

~0~0~0~

"I'll take first watch tonight." Moira declared when she had returned from setting her snares. Fili had finally started letting her set them alone. Moira suspected it was because he was afraid that hovering too close would look undignified in front of Strider, or something equally ridiculous. But his protectiveness hadn't worn off.

Fili frowned. "You don't have to do that."

Moira had had enough. "Nonsense. I'm going to pull my weight around here."

Fili, however, was insistent. "You need rest."

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

"If I'm not, IF, more sleep isn't going to fix what's wrong with me."

The rest of the group had stopped their activities to watch the battle of wills going on in front of them. At this point the Ranger and the Dwarf were both glaring at each other. Fili's arms crossed over his broad chest and Moira's hands were perched on her hips. Both had fire in their eyes, and neither was willing to give an inch.

"It's not going to hurt, either."

"It might."

"What does that mean?"

A sigh. "It doesn't matter."

"It does!" Fili's voice was raising now.

"Fili, what matters is that I'm taking one of the watches tonight." Her voice was low and firm and she was doing her best to make it was plain that she was not going to be argued with. "If you don't want me to take the first watch, fine. I can take the middle one." Middle watch was the hardest, since you didn't get a solid night of sleep, but rather two chunks of sleep. You not only had to wake in the middle of the night, but when the last watch started, you had to try to fall back asleep again. "Now, which watch would you rather I take?"

His expression clearly told her that she had won. Checkmate.

"Fine." he was actually grinding his teeth together. His frustration and that famous Durin anger was coming off of him in waves, so Moira tried to keep the smirk at her victory off of her face. She mostly successful.

That night as the camp slept, Moira sat glumly by the fire, which was beginning to burn low. Across from her, his face illuminated against the darkness by the glow of the dying fire, sat Strider. The young Ranger and secret heir to throne of Gondor sat smoking his pipe. She wasn't sure why he had chosen to stay up for part of the watch with her. Moira also wasn't sure how much she was supposed to know about him, as Faron had spoken of him always as Strider and never Aragorn. Faron trusted her with his life, but not with the secret of who exactly was the chieftain of the Dunedain. She fought with them, but she wasn't exactly one of them, after all. She wasn't exactly one of anything. So any conversation about Gondor was strictly off the table.

Right now she ignored him and stared into the flames, trying vainly to divine her future and where this new, strange path was going to take her by observing its flickering movements. She absentmindedly fingered the courtship beads on her Mjolnir necklace as she did so. That first morning in Bag End, she had almost put her courtship braids back in. Fili still wore his, after three years. Three years of no contact with her, and he still wore the braids, and her beads! But somehow, it had seemed … presumptuous. It felt like it was outrunning Rahl that bought them back together, not their love. After Rahl was taken care of, if they both survived, she wasn't sure if their relationship would. She was always good when she had a mission to focus on. She wasn't good at idleness. It was easy to fall in love in the wild, when all you had to think about was survival and the person beside you. It was easy to fall in love when at war, when you could die at any moment, when desire was forged in the fire of shared trauma and near misses. Civilization, and everyday life, was much, much harder.

It was Strider who fnally broke the stillness of the night. "He cares for you. His harshness is only born from a fear for your safety. Especially in light of the bounty."

Moira answered without looking away from the flames. "I know." Her voice sounded hollow, empty."I don't deserve him."

Strider considered her for a moment before responding. "Do you believe that because he is of a royal line?"

Moira shrugged. "There are lots of reasons."

"Does one of those reasons have to do with the wound on your arm, or your nightmares?" Strider's voice was gentle and kind, but it was the last thing she wanted him to ask. Fuck, was everybody in Middle-Earth this fucking observant? Or was it a King thing? It would make sense if it was King thing. She decided to ignore that question, and speak about something else that had been plaguing her thoughts.

"Did you know Dwarves love only once, and never again? I've ruined him." Her voice dropped to a pained whisper on the last sentence.

Strider let the deflection pass without comment, instead settling on her choice of conversational topic. "If that is true, and he has given you his heart, then you must treasure it."

"But I don't deserve it!"

"If it cannot be undone, you must endeavor to become worthy of his heart."

"What if I never can?"

"You can." He was so sure, so confident, but his voice was brimming with kindness and understanding. "It may not be easy. Your path may be full of trials, and certainly of the hard work it takes to make a relationship work. But it's worth it, if you love him back."

"How do you know? How the hell did you get so wise?"

He smiled enigmatically around the stem of his pipe. "It's not always easy to love one of another race."

Moira knew this story, of course. The love story of Aragorn and Arwen was one of best and most epic parts of the Middle-Earth Legendarium. But she had to pretend otherwise. "An Elf, I assume."

"Lord Elrond's daughter, the Lady Arwen."

"Ouch. I assume that didn't go over well with him." Strider's expression darkened and Moira hastily changed the subject. "I hear she's very beautiful."

"She is." Strider's entire demeanor changed when talking about her. His face not only softened, making him appear even younger, but the stiffness left his posture and the invisible weight that he carried on his shoulders seemed to lift.

Moira couldn't help but smile at his obvious happiness and infatuation. "We're just two romantic fools, falling for people we shouldn't, aren't we?"

"Perhaps." Strider smiled back.

Because she didn't know what else to do, Moira pulled out her pipe to smoke. Smoking meant there was no pressure to talk. They sat in silence for a while, until he tired and wished her good-night. When it was time, Moira woke Kili for his turn at watch. The younger prince grumbled under his breath in Khuzdul as he disentangled himself from Tauriel's arms, but nonetheless woke up to do his part. Finally Moira crawled into the bedroll she shared with her own lover.

"I love you, Fili." She whispered to his sleeping form. "I'll try to be better for you." She knew she had even more explaining to do when she got to Rivendell. It promised to be very unpleasant. She sighed and pushed the worry away. For now, she just snuggled into the sleeping arms of her golden prince.

~0~0~0~

A week after Fili overheard the conversation between Tauriel and Moira, things finally came to a head. Strider assured them that they were only a few more days journey from the Ford of Bruinen. And then they could finally get answers from Lord Elrond, if indeed there were answers to be had. But Fili didn't allow himself to consider the possibility that there were no answers.

The half-crescent moon was high in sky when Fili was awakened by Moira stirring in her sleep. His senses had become very attuned to her night terrors at this point, and sometimes he would wake before they became too bad. She was only stirring slightly, but her brow had furrowed, and she was whispering something. Fili leaned closer to hear what she was saying. Her voice was quiet.

"Du're bróðurbani, litt bróðir."

Fili sighed. She was speaking in those strange languages again. This one – whatever it was – was the one she spoke most frequently. Fili didn't understand the words, of course, but the twinge of heartbreak in her voice was unmistakable. She wasn't fearful right now, but the plaintive sound in her tone spoke of a soul-deep hurt that tore at Fili's own heart.

"Hvé kná ek hlíta du, bróðir?"

Fili started to whisper back to her. "Moira, love, amrâlimê, you're okay, I'm here." And then she reacted in a way he didn't expect. She shot up, instantly awake, and Fili recoiled to avoid having their foreheads collide. It would not have harmed him in the slightest, but he doubted her human skull could take the impact of hitting a Dwarf's. Her dark eyes were casting about the camp, and there was panic swirling in their depths.

Fili reached forward cautiously. "Moira?"

Her eyes finally lighted on him. And what he saw reflected there saw chilled him to the bone. She doesn't recognize me.

"Hvar ek? Vera du?" She demanded angrily.

The flat of her palm suddenly collided harshly with his nose, sending stars sparking behind his eyes. In the moment it took him to recover, she was on top of him, pinning him beneath her, thighs on either side of his hips, and she held his wrists pinned at his side. With his natural Dwarven strength he could have thrown her off easily, but the surprising iron in her limbs told him that all but the strongest human males would find it a challenge to do so. At the moment Fili cared more about figuring out what was going on than overpowering her, so he remained submissive. Somewhere at the back of his mind he wondered where Kili was, because it was his turn at watch, and he wasn't responding to this strange turn of events. Had his brother dozed off on watch again?

"You're okay," he said as soothingly as he could. "I'm not a threat."

Moira's face was contorted into an expression of confusion and anger.

"Vera du? Sem er tíðr?"

Uh oh. She not only didn't recognize him, she didn't seem to understand him. What would he do now?

"Hvar ek?" she demanded again, more forcefully.

"Hvar ek? Ormstunga halftroll kamphundr!" She shook him as she spewed that in his face. Fili caught "half-troll", and assumed the rest of the sentence was similar insults. Fili schooled his features into an expression of harmless innocence, one that he and Kili had practiced and mastered when they were tiny dwarflings causing all sorts of mayhem and mischief in Ered Luin, and tried to control the completely inappropriate stirring in his loins that her positioning was causing. Unfortunately, her eyes narrowed and the hiss of anger that escaped her lips told him that he had failed.

Fili heard footsteps then, and he tried to tell his brother to back off with a hiss of "Kili, no!" But in a flash she was on her feet, backing up. With both of his axes in her hands. He hadn't even felt her pull them from his boots. There was a stirring behind her, and the fair, curly head of the Hobbit popped up from the bedroll. Fili saw her arm tense and knew what was coming.

"Bilbo, look out!" He yelled at the same time that she whirled and threw the ax. Bilbo squeaked and leapt out of the way of the oncoming weapon, but just barely. It embedded itself in a log behind him. His shout roused the rest of the party, and Moira held the other ax in front of her, stance battle-ready, eyes casting between the five of them in a panic.

"Hvar ek?" She demanded again. "Hvar Ragnar?"

Ragnar. Her King. Her adopted father. When she was Viking. The bottom dropped out of Fili's stomach. She thought she was back there, back in Norway or whichever world her Viking life had been in. No wonder she was behaving this way. She probably thought she had been kidnapped in the middle of the night.

"Dvergr …." Her eyes were flicking between him, Kili, and Bilbo as she said that.

"Alf!" Well, the meaning of that word was obvious, even if she hadn't been looking at Tauriel when she uttered it.

She looked back to him, and Fili thought he saw uncertainty flicker in her eyes.

"Du're dvergr..." she said again, confusion alight on her face.

"Moira, amrâlimê, come back to me." Fili held his hands open in front of him in the universal sign of 'I'm unarmed' (even if it was a lie, she couldn't see the knives in his coat). But he couldn't keep the desperate edge of pleading out of his voice, and to his relief it seemed to cause her face to soften somewhat.

A blur of gray knocked her to the ground, and Strider had her disarmed, the ax tossed into the grass a little ways away, his large hands pinning hers above her head.

"Neinn! Neinn!" She howled and bucked, the uncertainty in her eyes gone, knocked back into her delusion.

"Du villi kenna vàrr reidi! Ragnar villi komma!"

"What. … is … going … on?" Strider grunted as he struggled to hold her immobile. "What's wrong with her?"

Good question.

"It's Rahl." Tauriel looked at Fili as she said that. "He's been in her mind, digging through her memories. It's confusing her. It's not her fault, she doesn't know what she's doing."

The flash of anger and betrayal was red-hot and blinding. "Why didn't she tell me?" He roared to a shocked Tauriel, who had never seen him lose his temper. "Why didn't YOU?!"

Tauriel opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by Strider, who was still struggling with Moira. "Not now! Somebody get me some rope! Argue later!"

"Villi tortima du! Hvergi!" Whatever she was yelling now was a threat, Fili would bet his beard on that.

Fili was impressed that the Man was holding his own with her. He knew she was stronger than she looked and when enraged she would be quite a challenge, especially for a mere Man. A Dwarf or an Elf could handle her relatively easily, but she had spent lifetimes fighting her own kind by now. Bilbo rushed to pull some rope from his pack, and Fili to help the Man. She paused her struggling for a moment when she caught sight of him, and gazed at him in slack-jawed confusion. That was encouraging, Fili supposed, that something in her seemed to recognize him. But the struggling started again within mere moments as soon as Bilbo returned with a rope in his hands and Strider forced her to stand with her hands behind her back. She was fuming, hissing what Fili assumed was threats and curses in that Viking tongue of hers, trying to kick anyone who came close as Strider dragged her to a tree and started to tie her to it.

"Forgive me, amrâlimê," Fili murmured as he joined the Ranger and moved to tighten the ropes, drawing her arms around the trunk of the tree. He played her story over in his mind, the bitterness of history repeating itself on his tongue as he remembered how while under Rahl's spell she had been tied to a tree somewhere in the woods of D'harra after trying to kill her friends. How her wizard, Zedd, had failed to bring her back to herself. But her future lover Cara had. He only hoped that their connection was as strong as the one she had shared with the rogue Mord-Sith.

Fili was surprised when she suddenly went slack, the fight just disappearing as if it had never been there.

"Amrâlimê …." she whispered to the empty air in front of her, a bit uncertainly. It filled him with hope as he moved around to face her, crouching next to her. Strider had bound her ankles together so she couldn't kick out.

"Yes. Do you remember that word?" She was looking at him with suspicion in her dark eyes, but something else, too. "Do you remember what it means?"

Realizing what he was doing, Strider had retreated to the campfire, leaving Fili alone with Moira. Alone, but carefully watched by the others.

"Moira?" Fili began again, carefully keeping his voice soft, nonthreatening. "Do you remember the meaning? Do you remember, amrâlimê?"

"Am … amrâlumê?" Fili's heart leapt as she correctly responded with the masculine version of the term of endearment, but right now, it was a question. Her eyes were clearly asking who he was. And what he was to her.

He tapped his chest. "Fili." He gestured at her, saying slowly "Moira."

Understanding dawned in her eyes, but she shook her head violently in denial. "Brenna." She insisted. "Brenna."

Fili shook his head slowly, sending his golden locks swishing. He noticed how she watched his hair move and wondered if that was what had set off some kind of sense memory within her. She had always loved his long, thick golden hair.

"No, not Brenna, not anymore. It's Moira now. Moi … ra."

"Moi … ra," she repeated after him, still uncertain. She was sounding out the name, running it around her mouth, tasting it on her tongue, trying it out. "Moira." There was a flicker of recognition in her eyes.

Encouraged, Fili nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, you're Moira. My Moira, amrâlimê. Moira," he gestured to her "and Fili." he tapped his chest again. "Moira and Fili."

"I'm … I'm Moira."

Hope surged in Fili's breast as she seemed to slowly be remembering how to speak Westron.

"I'm – I'm in Middle-Earth."

"Yes! Yes, you are." Cautiously, Fili reached out and touched her, caressing her face. The confusion cleared from her eyes, and she looked horrified as the realization of what she had done hit her.

"Fili! I'm sorry! Oh Gods, Bilbo! I'm so, so, sorry!" A tear trickled from one of her eyes, and Fili wiped it away, before withdrawing.

Fili wanted badly to hold her, to comfort her, but he suppressed that instinct. She had lied to him too much lately, and he wanted answers more than anything else right now.

"You need to tell them."

Fili jumped. Damned Elves. Tauriel still walked so softly that you could not hear her footfalls, especially if you were occupied with something else.

Moira winced. "Tauriel, please..."

"No! You almost killed Bilbo! You are losing yourself, Moira!"

Before Moira could respond or Fili could demand answers, the infuriatingly calm voice of Strider broke up the argument almost effortlessly. "I think you had better tell me what is going on." It wasn't a request. It was a command, spoken like one who was used to leading, who had commanded men in battle and would do so again. It was unexpected coming from this somewhat ragged, weather-stained Man with knotted and unbrushed hair.

Durinultarg. The newest Ranger in their midst knew even less than Fili. This would be a long night if Moira decided to tell him everything.

~0~0~0~

Moira had decided not to explain the world-hopping to Strider, for now. He didn't know her well enough yet to not decide that she was simply mad. It had been hard enough to tell her friends. She did tell Strider about Rahl, leaving out the gory details, as well as the specifics that would have identified him as being from outside of Middle-Earth. Thankfully the others took their cues from her.

"Now, these last few weeks, since Tauriel and I tried to break the connection, I can sometimes feel him digging around inside my mind. He's changed to a more subtle tactic than the pain, since I cut off the mark. I can keep the shields up most days, but its tiring to defend against a constant mental assault, and I have no defense when I sleep."

Moira was untied now, sitting down, Tauriel beside her. The Elf was the only one who was willing to get close to her right now apparently. Not that she blamed Bilbo, who was lurking on the other side of camp. He was looking at her with concern, but obviously shaken up. She was still somewhat uncomfortable with the friendship that Tauriel wanted to cultivate with her, but Moira had accepted her as an ally. Besides, the Elf was incredibly kind, and she needed that kindness right now. Kili was on the other side of Tauriel, keeping a watchful eye on Moira in case she lost it again. Fili was pacing nearby.

Strider was standing, his face in a firm grim mask, unreadable. His posture was stiff, and he watched her, and everything around the camp, with his keen gray eyes. He had taken on the mantle of the commander, probably unconsciously. This was Aragorn standing before her, not Strider the Ranger, although the others didn't know it. She kept that knowledge to herself for now. She would explain everything to Fili when they got to Rivendell. They were so close now.

"I've heard whispers that a necromancer had taken up residence in Dol Guldur." Strider finally spoke. Well, shit. Apparently he hadn't been to Rivendell in the last three years, either that or Elrond didn't tell him about the activities of the White Council. It was a reasonable connection for him to make, given the amount of knowledge that he had. Should she disabuse him of that notion, that Rahl was the Necromancer? No, not just yet. This wasn't the place for councils and consultations, out in the wild being hunted by Orcs. Odin, she was going to busy in Rivendell.

"You are right to make for Rivendell." Strider continued. "Lord Elrond will help to rid you of this evil. And I understand why you did not tell me sooner. You did not know me well enough to trust me yet. Do not worry." He smiled then, for the first time since she had started telling her severely edited tale to the other Ranger. "I hold no grudge."

"Well, now that that's solved," Fili finally ceased his pacing, coming to a stop beside Strider, glaring at her. His voice held a sarcastic edge that made her cringe. "I want to know why you didn't tell me you were having so much trouble!"

He had every right to his anger. Moira felt ashamed. Truly ashamed. She should have told Fili, she knew that. Some part of her had thought she was protecting him by not telling him, but really, it was selfishness. It was motivated by the desire to not appear weak. "I didn't want to worry you."

"You know what worried me? Waking up with you holding me down, gibbering in another language! Throwing MY ax at Bilbo! Some warning would have nice!"

"I know! I'm sorry! I had no idea I would … regress like that!"

The argument was cut off by a sudden howl, much, much closer than they heard so far on this journey.

"Oh no..." She exclaimed as Fili cursed in Khuzdul.

Bilbo came running up to the group, face pale. "That was Wargs, again, wasn't it?"

"Don't let the horses run this time!" Moira yelled. Soon they were all mounted. Tauriel snatched up Bilbo, placing him in front of her on her large horse despite some protesting. After some quick arguing, it was decided that it was best for Strider to ride Moira's horse, and for Moira to ride with Fili. Being small for Manfolk, her extra weight was not likely to overtax his pony. It would have been seriously awkward if the howls of the Wargs hadn't told them just how close they were. As it was, the adrenaline pumping in everyone's veins kept the thought of what she had just done out of their minds. For now.

~0~0~0~

They rode hard and fast all night and for half the day, until all their steeds were exhausted, slick with sweat and foaming at the mouth. They were only a few hours from the Ford, only a few hours from safety, when the Orc pack finally caught up with them. Tauriel slowed her horse to drop behind the group, and Kili drew his bow and began to fire arrows at their pursuers,while Tauriel directed the stallion on where to go. They were trying to cover the others as they fled.

A riderless Warg sprung at Moira's brown mare, knocking Strider to the ground. The horse let out a loud, piercing shriek of pain as the claws of of the dark creature tore at it, and its jaws closed around the Man trapped under it.

"NO!" Moira bellowed. She slipped under Fili's arms then, sliding to the ground as she drew her daggers. She raced towards where the huge Warg that had her fellow Ranger in it's mouth, shaking him like a rag-doll. The sword had fallen from his hand and his eyes were glazed over. The monstrous creature could have easily crushed him, ending his life. It was playing with its prey like a cat does with a mouse. Moira dodged and didn't engage several Orcs, only stabbing or knocking them back when they got in the way of her goal. She instead leapt on the back of the Warg, driving both her daggers into its skull, one behind each ear. She tilted the daggers forward and in, twisting them, scrambling the creature's brain inside its own skull. The great Warg's eyes rolled up into its head and its jaw dropped, releasing the ragged Ranger. Bloodied and wounded Strider rolled away from the falling corpse of the Warg, retrieving his fallen sword, and forced himself to his feet with obvious effort. He nodded his thanks at Moira before they diverged, both taking on more of the Orcs on foot. Kili was no longer mounted, but still firing arrows into the Wargs that circled them.

He's alive, then, Fili thought as he drew his twin swords from their scabbard on his back, Good. He still wasn't sure if he liked the Man, but he could handle himself in a fight and they would need that. Fili braced himself as a Orc rushed at him. Fili wasn't sure when exactly he had dismounted the pony himself, but suddenly he was in the thick of it. Dwarven steel clashed with the brittle, crudely made weapons of the surrounding Orcs. He was vaguely aware of the death-cries of one of the other horses, and the stamping hooves of the other two fleeing. They would be on foot the rest of the way to Rivendell then.

"Moira!" Tauriel called while slashing the throat of one Orc and moving quickly to another. "What about using the weapon?"

Weapon? What weapon?

"No!" Moira yelled back. "We can't tip our hand yet!"

But Fili didn't have much time to think about this mysterious exchange as two more Orcs charged him simultaneously. He roared a battle cry in Khuzdul as he raised his swords to clash with theirs, silently thanking Mahal that he had inherited his father's ambidextrous leanings as well as his swords. The world narrowed to the red haze of battle fury as he ducked and whirled and slashed and hacked and dodged and blocked and charged. He couldn't see his brother in the chaos, but he could hear the distinctive twang of arrows being let loose. That meant that Kili still lived. That, or Tauriel had abandoned her daggers and switched to her Elvish bow. Even worse, Bilbo was in this mess somewhere. The quest had changed him much, and there was a new steel in the little Hobbit's soul. But he was still the least trained of the entire party. But there was no time to dwell on that. All there was the fight. The song of battle sang in his blood, as it did in the blood of all Dwarves, and Fili lost himself to it as he fought the ancient enemy of his people. Vaguely he was aware that another had joined their fight, an Elf by the way he moved, but Fili did not concern himself with the newcomer's identity. Not yet.

When the fight finally ended, Fili could not have said how much time had passed. An hour, a day, a year … it was all the same. He breathed a sigh of relief to see his brother was still alive, leaning on Tauriel, but alive. They limped over to him at the same time that Bilbo appeared next to him, moving remarkably silently. The Hobbit's ripped clothing was covered in black gore, his little Elvish sword still clutched in his hand. The new Elf, a blonde, had his back turned to him and was talking lowly to Strider in a way that made it seem as if they knew each other. There was something oddly familiar about him, but Fili couldn't place it from this distance and angle. Strider was wounded, leaning on Moira, and Fili's eyes narrowed.

They all stood for a moment, battered, bloodied, the battle frenzy starting to wear down, among the scattered bodies of dozens of Orcs. At least 30, maybe 40 of them, Fili would wager. Perhaps more. A sizable force. The grass was slick with the black blood of Orcs and the air with its festering foul smell. Suddenly Moira spotted something, gasped, and pushed Strider roughly aside. An arrow bloomed from her shoulder on the left side. A wordless scream ripped from Fili's throat at the same time that Kili and Tauriel whirled, both of them impaling the last Orc with their arrows. An archer hidden in the trees that they all had missed. Strider knelt beside her as Fili rushed across the field. Too close to her heart. Far too close. was all he could think as he ran.

"Why?" Strider demanded, gathering her in one arm as he attempted to staunch the sickening flow of blood. "Why take an arrow for me?"

"Because," she said, smiling up at him in a way that made Fili's stomach twist, "Gondor needs it's king. It's true king."

King? Fili's mind whirled. But that line was broken, long ago. Only Stewards rule in Gondor now.

Strider seemed just as confused as he was. She's wrong, then. Fili thought with satisfaction as he reached her side. She's confused, like before.

"How did you know?" Strider asked in awe. Durinultarg.

"I know." The same enigmatic answer she had given Fili. She looked to Fili now, apologetically, grasping his outstretched hand. "I was going to tell you when we got to Rivendell. There wasn't time. There's …. never …. enough …. time."

And giving proof to her words, she passed out.

The Elf stepped forward then, and Fili recognized him. Legolas. Tauriel's former liege, and son of the Elf who had imprisoned them all. Who had threatened Moira. "We make for Rivendell on foot." he declared.

"We?" Fili snarled at him.

There was a sorrow in Legolas' eyes then, that Fili did not know the cause of. But his One had been seriously wounded and he did not want to see this tree-hugging bastard claim to be one of their party right now.

"Easy, Nadad," Kili breathed from behind him.

"Mae govannen, Tauriel," Legolas was saying, but Fili wasn't listening. He didn't care if his brother's Elf responded.

"Can you carry her?'" Strider addressed Fili.

Fili bristled. "Yes." He declared a little more forcefully than he had to.

For the briefest of moments, there was offense in those clever gray eyes. But it passed. "Of course." He gently passed Moira to Fili's outstretched arms. "I meant nothing by it, Master Dwarf."

And they were off.

~0~0~0~

Author's Notes:

Yup, I decided to go with the "sanity slowly slipping away" thing, because crazy is too much fun to write.

I did not intend for Fili to be so jealous, I don't think he's naturally super-jealous, but as I was writing it came out that way. Afterwards, I was thinking about why that may be, I realized that with the amount that he's been lied to by her, overreacting a little right now would probably make sense. And I apologize for another cliffhanger, but the next chapter will be the flashback to the Battle of the Five Armies, and then we'll pick up in Rivendell. There may be ONE more flashback chapter after that to wrap up the Hobbit quest, like in a healer's tent or something, and then it's on to the next quest with no more flashbacks.

OLD NORSE PHRASES:

Du're bróðurbani, litt bróðir = You're a kinslayer now, little brother. (bróðurbani = literally "brother-slayer")

Hvé kná ek hlíta du? = How can I trust you?

Hvar ek? = Where am I?

Vera du? = Who are you?

Sem er tíðr? = What's going on? (literally, "what is happening?)

Ormstunga halftroll kamphundr = Serpent-tongued half-troll carrion eater

Dvergr = dwarf

Alf = elf

Neinn! = no!

Du villi kenna vàrr reidi! Ragnar villi komma! = You will feel our wrath! Ragnar will come!

Villi tortima du! Hvergi! = I will kill you! Every one!