Disclaimer: I own nothing that J.R. Tolkien or Peter Jackson would not recognize.

"NORAAAAAA!"

Jolted from her daydream, Nora checks her watch. She panics and scurries to her feet. She was supposed to have the dishes and the laundry done by 4, and she's still folding clothes! She quickly and carefully puts the finished clothes in the basket to be delivered to their owners later, then rushes to the kitchen. Regina, as always, is standing by the sink with annoyance and anger clear on her face. However, this time, she's not wearing her usual slacks and blouse. She's wearing a long-sleeved loose shirt tucked into a long skirt.

Regardless of her foster mother's strange attire, she needs to get the dishes done now. She can finish the laundry later. She makes her way to the sink, keeping her head down, and begins to scrub. She counts fourteen individual pieces that need washed. She settles into a familiar pattern: soak with water, apply soap, scrub with sponge, rinse, set aside to towel-dry later.

After several plates and a few pots and pans, she starts to realize that the pile doesn't look any smaller. She counts the dishes again while rinsing a bowl. Sixteen. What? She's certain there were only fourteen when she started. She tries to keep track of the number, but it keeps changing no matter how much of her attention she keeps on it, and it seems to only grow the more she cleans. She counts again. This time, the dishes are piled dangerously high. One plate falls from the top and lands on her foot. Wincing, she backs away, but the pile only grows bigger. Several dishes escape from the top, falling to the floor with a deafening crash. One pot bounces off her shin before doing so, and she hisses in pain, instinctively pulling her leg away. The pile grows higher and higher, and the dishes collapse over and over, bouncing loudly off of the counter, the floor, and Nora. At some point, an empty whiskey bottle falls from the pile and hits her shoulder.

At this point, she's already covering her head with her arms, but as soon as the bottle appears, she freezes. Her eyes widen to the size of quarters, her bottom lip quivers, and she starts to whimper. The bottle mysteriously reappears at the top of the pile and hits her again, this time on her upper back. It reappears again and again, until it's the only dish left. She falls to the floor and realizes she's not in Regina's kitchen. She can't be. Regina would never allow her floor to become so filthy, nor her precious tile to become so discolored. The bottle continues to reappear and bounce off of her, though. Suddenly, Nora's much smaller, and the bottle is no longer falling on her. Attached to the neck of the bottle is a hand that guides it forcefully toward her, striking her over and over. Unable to get away, she pulls herself into a ball, protecting her head, and whimpers.

"Whatsa matter, Girl?"

The bottle keeps striking.

"Wake up, Girl."

The hand pulls it down for another blow. Wait, hold on...Kíli?

"Come on, Girl, it's only a dream."

The bottle...Fíli?

Nora's eyes snap open and she jerks awake, breathing heavily. It takes a minute for her vision to focus. When it finally does, she's met by two concerned pairs of eyes. The chocolate brown ones look worried, but the deep blue ones hold a hint of sympathy. Fíli probably recognizes the symptoms of a nightmare, and Kíli hasn't yet made the connection.

Hissssssssss. Snap!

Kíli's eyes widen and the blood drains from his face. He opens his mouth to speak or cry out, but grey foam blocks any sound and begins to choke him. His brother frantically calls his name as he collapses, his face quickly turning blue. He grasps at his throat while Fíli kneels beside him, crying in fear.

With a jerk and a gasp, Nora finally wakes up.

Panting heavily, with eyes wider than half-dollars, she scrambles to her feet and scans the room. The two little pairs of shoes haven't moved, and neither have the day clothes the boys were too lazy to put away before going to bed. Fíli and Kíli themselves are in their little bed, snoring softly and sleeping soundly.

Unable to calm herself and knowing she probably won't be able to as a wolf, Nora pads softly towards the foot of the bed and hops the short distance up. Carefully inching foward, she lies down and nestles herself between the two dwarflings. To her suprise and amusement, both of the boys roll over almost instantly. Fíli runs his left hand over the fur on her back a few times before once again becoming still, while Kíli simply throws his arm over her neck. The whole time, the both of them continue to snore.

Chuckling silently, Nora closes her eyes, convinced she won't be able to catch any more sleep. A few minutes later, however, she proves herself wrong as her subconscious takes over and she slips into more restful dreams.