Brænna bolted upright from the nightmare, head snapping from side to side as she searched for the source of that feeling of being watched. When she heard absolutely nothing but the squeaking of the strangely small skeevers, she sighed before trying to rub the tiredness out of her eyes. 'I'm getting really sick of not sleeping,' she thought to herself.

She got up carefully, neither willing to disturb her sleeping companions nor put much weight on her leg as she crept to stand by the window. Far off in the distance, nearly obscured by the darkness of very early morning, she saw the moonlit, hulking figure of Beorn patrolling the edge of the woods. The distant barking and yapping, of course, would be the Wargs either turning tail and running, or at least being held at bay by the strange werebear.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Grabbing the closest thing she could find, she pinned her attacker to the wall, forearm across their throat, and her impromptu weapon between their ribs.

Her eyes widened in shock as she saw exactly who was pinned to the wall.

"That's certainly a first," Kíli said, grabbing her weapon, and bringing it up where both of them could see it. "Never been threatened with a spoon before. Now what, exactly, would that have done to a trespassing Orc?"

She shrugged, turning away so he couldn't see the slight flush of embarrassment colouring her cheeks. "Anything can be a weapon if you use it the right way," she huffed, before levelling the spoon at his head. "You, should be resting."

He shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. "Could say the same of you, I remember how tired you were last night, and we've hardly rested since the caves," he answered.

"I'll manage," she said, choosing not to recount the sleepless months she'd spent as a Werewolf, and then later as a Vampire. "Why are you awake anyways?"

"Couldn't sleep," he answered. "I think it's the fact that there's an unnaturally large bear that could come into the house at any moment who's capable of ripping us to shreds."

She couldn't help but giggle. "Beorn the bear is just as reasonable as Beorn the man, despite what Gandalf says. Many shapechangers are, or at least the ones that I've met are."

"Well doesn't that sound like an interesting story!" he said, leaning forward.

"Stories," she sighed, and her expression grew drawn as she remembered her husband, all those years ago. "I could spend ages telling you them, though not all of them have a happy ending," she responded. "Back then, I didn't understand how the world worked. I was a self-righteous child, even when it came to decisions that would affect the lives of thousands. But of course, hindsight is a blessing and a curse."

Sensing she didn't want to talk about it, though not for the reason he assumed, he stayed silent, watching Odahviing swoop down into the treeline, time and time again, wings lit by the light of the moon, then climb upwards, making lazy circles in the sky.

"I want to apologise," he said, continuing when Brænna quirked an eyebrow at him. "For the behaviour of my kin," he finished. "I knew they'd be upset but…"

"It's all right, Kíli," she said "I don't blame them at all. I'm actually surprised I had that much support when I finally decided to speak up. Never thought anybody except for you and Bilbo would…" she trailed off.

"Well, my brother and I trust each other's judgement most of the time, especially when it comes to people. He says I'm good at reading their true motivations. Though," he chuckled, shoulders shaking with mirth, "The look on Dori's face? Mahal, I thought I saw smoke coming out of his ears!"

She laughed, trying not to wake the others. "Thank you," she eventually said.

"For what?"

"For everything. Your support, your decision to keep my secret, even carrying me out of the cave," she said. "That… must've been difficult for you. Keeping it from Thorin, I mean. I don't regret keeping it from him, but I am sorry that you had to lie to your kinfolk," she responded.

He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and looked straight into her eyes. "You don't need to apologise at all. You are… important to me, and I hope you know that," he said.

Her face reddened, and she hoped that even in the moonlight that her blush was more difficult to see. "I…"

Sensing her vulnerability, the dragons within chose to ruin the moment and attack. She gasped, feeling simultaneously like her head had been pierced and had been struck across the back by the tail of a Dov.

She slumped against the wall, shoving Kíli away and crumpling to the floor. Through the haze of pain, she could hear and feel Kíli by her side, doing his best to help.

"Brænna, Brænna, it's all right, I'm here, I'm right here. Focus on this, focus on my voice," he said, giving her a lifeline back to reality.

She grabbed him by the arms, trying to push him away, keep him away from the danger that was her, but then his arms were pulling her close, and then she was holding his arm to her chest, panting, gasping for air as she tried to ground herself. He began stroking her hair, whispering words in his strangely harsh language. Eventually, the tumult of Dov and the pain left, and all that was left was that crushing bone-deep weariness.

"Are you all right?" Kíli murmured, still stroking her hair.

Wiping the sweat from her face, and taking a few shaky breaths she said, "The damn Dov. They swarm whenever they sense personal weakness, like slaughterfish to blood."

"Personal weakness?" he asked, more for the sake of keeping her grounded than for an answer.

"A slip of attention, she replied, as she shakily stood, with his support. "Constant vigilance is needed, especially so soon after using the Thu'um. They get… intense if… when I'm not careful." She looked at him with a weak, weary smile, "I guess I'm lucky you were here. Usually Odahviing helps but…" she trailed off, looking away. "Anyways."

Kíli frowned at her, concern etched onto his face. She was about to scoff at his seeming pity, when he lit up, then started rummaging through his pockets. Absently, he kept hold of her hand, and, having found what he'd been looking for, used the other to lay a smooth, hard object in her upturned palm. Squinting in the moonlight, she gazed at the small black, rune-etched stone he had given her. Raising a questioning eyebrow, she looked to Kíli for an explanation.

"It's a runestone my mother gave me, so I remember my promise," he explained. "I feel you need it more, though," he smiled.

"Promise?" she asked.

"To come back to her after the quest," he explained, before looking from their hands into the Bosmer's wine-red eyes. "Now, even if I'm not there, you don't have to feel alone. Promise that you'll come back to this world if another attack comes. Promise you'll come back to me."

Her breath hitched and her heart skipped a beat as he spoke those words. She couldn't look away from the honesty in his eyes, anchoring her in the raging whirlwind of her thoughts. No hidden agenda, no fear, no hatred, just sincerity. Her pulse raced as she felt her guard slipping down, but strangely, the Dov didn't respond.

Maybe it's worth it, she thought. She nodded, a mere dip of her chin, and she breathed out her answer: "I promise."

He smiled, before standing on his toes and placing his hands on each side of her neck, pulling her down to his level, pressing their foreheads to each other. For a long, endless moment, they stayed that way, simply basking in each other's closeness.

Pulling away, with a not-as-hidden-as-he-hoped blush on his cheeks, he said, "Get some rest, I hear you have a Hobbit to train tomorrow."

Heart still racing, she laughed, stepping away. She felt a slight tug at her hand, and realised that Kíli had yet to relinquish his hold on it. Still blushing, he opened his mouth to say something, but shook his head to say only, "Sleep well, Brænna."

"You too, Kíli," she replied with the same softness.

Her hand quietly slipped out of his grasp as she turned and walked to her bedroll. She felt a small smile on her lips as she laid down, and she listened as Kíli stood shocked for a moment before walking quietly to the other side of the skin-changer's house, the quiet shuffling of straw letting her know he had settled down for the night. She ran her thumb across the surface of the smooth black stone, and brought it up to her face, memorising the shape of the runes in the moonlight, before pressing it to her lips. She slipped it into her pocket, closed her eyes, and for the first time in much too long, had a happy dream.

Unbeknownst to both Kíli and Brænna, not everyone had been sleeping, and their exchange had not gone unnoticed.

She woke early the next morning, feeling pleasantly well-rested and refreshed. With a deep, contented sigh, she opened her eyes, and lazily tracked a few gigantic bees floating through the air, drifting in and out of a hive they had made in the crevice of the wall. Sitting herself upward, she groaned, softly, and using the small amount of magicka she'd regained through the night to heal her leg as much as she could, and a little of the throbbing pain faded away with every pulse. She cast her gaze around the room, looking over her friends, and while most, if not all were still sleeping, the lack of snoring informed her that it wouldn't be long before they'd be up and about.

Using this quiet morning, the Elf, (and she realised with a start, she was, in fact, a full-blooded elf, yet still half-Bosmer) quietly slipped out of the cabin and found Odahviing resting near where a giant man stood, chopping wood, though not sleeping. As she approached, the old Dovah raised his head from where it lay to look at her, and the man, startled by the sudden change of behaviour.

Reflecting her mood, Brænna called a chipper, "Good morning!" to the man, as she came up to Odahviing's head, repeating the phrase in Dovahzul.

The large man, reminiscent of the Giants who roamed the plains near Whiterun, looked at her with both a curious and calculating gaze before asking, "Who are you? You are like the Mirkwood elves, but… not. You do not smell of them."

She bowed low before responding, "I am Brænna Stormcrown, a wood elf of the far-off land of Skyrim, East of Middle-Earth. I believe Odahviing has introduced himself?" she asked.

"Strange company you travel with, Stormcrown of Skyrim," the skin-changer said. "Why does an Elf travel with a child of Morgoth, benevolent or no?"

Odahviing's hackles rose, having heard from Brænna of the history of this land, and knew from more than the man's tone that Morgoth was not someone or something that a noble, proud, 'benevolent' Dovah like himself would associate. Seeing her friend's distress, Brænna intervened, saying, "Odahviing is no spawn of Morgoth, but brought with me from Skyrim, a noble child of Akatosh, father of Dragons, and is on a self-imposed pledge to myself. I could nigh ask the same of you, child of Hircine."

"I do not know this 'Hircine,'" said the man. "I am Beorn, and I am a shape-changer."

"Strange," Brænna, smiled. "All shape-changers in my land are blessed, or cursed, by Hircine, with their abilities."

"My people were the first to live in the mountains, before the Orcs came down from the north. We are not blessed with our forms, but born with them," Beorn proudly explained.

"How curious," Brænna grinned. Her inquisitive tendencies that had gotten her so far as the Archmage of the College of Winterhold in full swing as she studied the man. Turning toward Odahviing, she asked, "How was the night? Anything interesting happen?"

"The Orcs left before midnight. I did not follow them where they went," the Dragon rumbled, stretching like a cat, a terrifying yawn setting dagger-sized teeth gleaming in the morning sunlight, though he was careful not to disturb the flowerbeds.

"That is troubling. I don't think Azog would've let his prey go that easily. Whatever called him away must have been very important, and nobody knows what the Orcs are planning."

"Azog?" Beorn hissed, and Brænna jumped at the sudden fury. "I thought I smelled that repulsive maggot," he said, hand tightening on the haft of the axe.

"I take it you know him, then?" Brænna asked.

As Beorn's jaw clenched, Brænna saw the remnants of manacles encircling Beorn's wrists, before he brought down the oversized weapon on a log nearly as thick as Odahviing's neck. "Knowing him is a cruel way to put it."

Brænna was about to ask for more details when she was interrupted with a cheery, but nervous, "Good Morning!"

The Elf's eyes darted to the wizard, and though her eye twitched in suppressed anger at the halt of her questioning, she gave the Wizard a tight-lipped smile.

Beorn's already hostile visage darkened further as he turned slowly toward the wizard who had invaded his home. "Who are you?"

"I am Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey," Gandalf replied, bowing his head.

"Never heard of him," Beorn responded almost angrily.

Brænna almost laughed to see Gandalf begin to fidget, obviously terrified at the prospect of talking to and thereby offending a man who could, quite possibly, tear the wizard to shreds.

Brænna was, of course much more used to shape-changers and were-creatures, By the Nine, she'd married one of them. Not to mention, while Beorn had made a very large bear, Odahviing was still much bigger.

"I'm a wizard! Perhaps you've heard of my colleague, Radagast the Brown. He resides in the southern borders of Mirkwood-"

"What do you want?" Beorn interrupted, even more angrily.

"Well, simply, to thank you for your hospitality! You may have noticed you took refuge in your lodgings last night," Gandalf said, almost quaking.

As Gandalf continued to explain, Brænna spotted a certain Hobbit hiding behind the tall wizard, desperately making himself as small and invisible as possible, obviously frightened at the size difference between himself and the oversized Man.

"Who is that little fellow?" Beorn asked, and his slightly-slackened grip on the axe tightened once again. "He's not a dwarf, is he?"

Oh dear, she thought. Gandalf, what have you done? You said 'overfond,' well he's downright murderous!

"That is Master Baggins of the Shire. He's a particularly good friend of mine, and a Hobbit," Brænna interrupted. "Though I am working on his abilities, so far, he is harmless, like a bunny."

Pretending to ignore Bilbo's scowl at the comparison to a rabbit, Brænna smiled brightly at the shape-changer.

Relaxing slightly, Beorn said, "A halfling, a foreign Elf, and a wizard. How come you here?"

"Oh well, the fact is that we've had a rough time of it from goblins, in the mountains," Gandalf began to explain.

"What did you go near goblins for? Stupid thing to do," Beorn interrupted again.

"We weren't aware of the goblins hidden there, or we would've stayed well clear of them," she answered for Gandalf as the wizard was clearly unable to avoid sticking his foot in it.

"Why not ride the Dragon over the mountain?" Beorn asked, gesturing to Odahviing with the axe.

"He is very… particular, about who he carries," Brænna answered, "and I don't believe he would've carried all of us even if he tried."

"What do you mean, all of you?" Beorn asked, eyes narrowing.

Brænna sighed as, simultaneously, Gandalf began sticking his foot in his mouth again, and Dwalin and Balin began striding confidently out of the home.

Deciding to just get it over with, Brænna cast a slight Muffle spell on Gandalf, silencing him, and gestured for the entire company to exit the house.

Though Beorn grew more and more angry, and his eyebrows reached higher and higher, as Dwarves exited his house, thankfully he waited for the last Dwarf, Thorin, of course, to exit the house before gritting his teeth and looking to Brænna to explain. Having shrugged off the Muffle, Gandalf wisely stayed silent, merely sending Brænna an irritated look as he also waited for her to explain.

"This is the Company of Thorin Oakenshield," she began, gesturing toward the Dwarf Lord, "And we are on a quest to retake the Lonely Mountain. I vouch for all of them, to a one," she said, having made eye contact with Thorin, And don't make me regret it, went the unspoken message.

Startling all but her, Odahviing chose that moment to speak. "Now you see why I did not carry them," he grumbled, stretching again, and coming to his feet. "Naal hin lif, Dovahkiin, Zu'u fen bodein shark wahl bek tah lost ni dall, (By your leave, Dragonborn, I will patrol and make sure the pack has not returned.)"

"Nox hi, Odahviing, hi aal lif," she responded, then coughed at the roughness of Dovahzul. "Zu'u all praag hi dela zuspein. (Thank you, Odahviing, you may go. I may need you later for training)"

Odahviing roared in agreement, before taking off, the nearer Dwarves falling over at the sudden gust of wind and the rest reaching for their weapons, still untrusting of the Dovah."

"Let us take this discussion inside," Beorn said, warily eying the dragon above. "I am certain you are all famished from your journey."

It was not long before the table was set with breads, cheeses, nuts and sweet berries. Beorn had not only placed down an enormous pot of honey that would've made Wulfgar cry tears of joy, but was walking around with a large flask of fresh milk.

"So, you are the one they call Oakenshield," the skin-changer began, while filling Fíli's cup. "Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?"

Thorin looked up, suspicion narrowing his eyes. "You know of Azog? How?"

Here, Brænna leaned forward, eager to hear the tale that Gandalf had interrupted.

"The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved," Beorn responded. "Not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him."

Brænna's heart ached in sympathy. Having visited her ancestral home of Valenwood after the events of the Dragon Crisis ended and seen the way the Thalmor treated her kin, she could understand Beorn's pain and grief. Quickly, her pity turned to anger and her hand clenched on the hilt of her sword, swearing to herself that Azog would die a very slow death at the end of her blade. No creature, man, beast, or in-between deserved the fate Beorn's people had had. Flashes of memory, of disappeared men, women, and children, man or mer, gone in the dead of night at the hands of the Thalmor caused her heart to pound in her ears.

Faintly, she could hear the Dovah souls within her shouting like a chorus of the damned, not only egging her on, but also strangely, somehow also sympathetic. That, combined with Bilbo's hesitant asking of "There are others like you?" was what snapped her back to reality.

"Once, there were many," Beorn responded as he brought the pitcher close to his heart. "Now there is only one."

Brænna's eyes stung with unshed tears of sympathy. Being immortal as she was, she had seen her friends and family fall, one by one by one, left to a fate and a duty she would have to carry alone.

Well, not quite alone, she thought, hand leaving the hilt of her sword to trace the runes on the smooth stone, a smile quirking the corner of her mouth.

"You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn?" Beorn asked suddenly.

"Before Durin's day falls, yes," Gandalf answered.

"You are running out of time, then," Beorn said, setting down the pitcher and crossing his arms.

Grimly, the wizard nodded and said, "Which is why we must go through Mirkwood."

"A darkness lies upon that forest. Fell things creep beneath those trees," Beorn responded, voice warning, but thoughtful. "There is an alliance between the Orcs of Moria and the Necromancer in Dol Guldur. I would not venture thee except in great need."

"We will take the Elven road. That path is still safe," Gandalf explained.

"Safe?" Beorn snorted. "The Wood-Elves of Mirkwood are unlike your companion here. She is compassionate and kind enough to help you on your foolish quest, and to lend you the help of her winged beast. The elves there are unkind and dangerous. But it matters not."

Brænna's pointed ears perked up at the news of quasi-kinfolk in the forest, Wood-Elves, no less! However, the way Beorn described them, they reminded her more of the Altmer than the Bosmer of Valenwood. She hoped her heritage would help her should they meet, though her thoughts darkened again remembering these were the same Elves who had abandoned the Dwarves during their time of need.

"What do you mean?" Thorin asked, and Brænna scrambled mentally to remember what the last thing someone said was.

"These lands are crawling with Orcs. Their numbers are growing, and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive," Beorn growled.

"Odahviing and I can help," Brænna answered, standing in her seat, hiding a wince as her leg twinged at the sudden movement. "It is my sworn duty to help these Dwarves to their destination, and I will die before I see one fall to the Orcs," and she intended to keep that promise, in spite of her immortality and the company's seeming danger-magnetism.

"How do you propose that the Dragon get through the forest? He cannot fly through the thick branches of the trees, nor will he be able to assist you if he cannot see you through the canopy. Your leg is also wounded and needs healing, and there are no travellers that stroll on the Elf Road," Beorn questioned.

Eyebrow arching defiantly, she looked Beorn straight in the eye and challenged, "I will bear through whatever is necessary."

Beorn stood up breaking her gaze, the ghost of a smile on his lips disappearing as he said, "I don't like dwarves, they're greedy, and blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own." He walked forward and picked up a mouse that Bofur had rubbed off his sleeve, and Brænna was afraid that the tiny creature would meet its demise in the shape-changer's massive hands, and quietly sighed with relief when he simply lifted it up to one of the ceiling joists. "But Orcs I hate more. You are welcome to stay here and recover, this place is likely the last safe haven you will find before continuing your journey."

Thorin seemed to want to argue, to get back on the road, before Gandalf cut him off by saying, "Thank you for your kindness, it would be foolish not to take this opportunity."

While Thorin silently fumed, most of the company's faces lit up with glee over the fact that they could rest after several days of walking almost nonstop. Gandalf was correct, though; it would be faster and easier to travel with a well-rested and prepared group.

After breakfast, everyone took to the outdoors. Gandalf smoked merrily on his pipe, making shapes out of the smoke, while some of the dwarves trained together. Kíli trained with his brother, Dwalin and Gloin faced off, Ori and Nori had paired up duelling side-by side with Bofur and Oin, while the rest looked on shouting encouragement.

Braenna finished talking to Odahviing who had returned, to walk over to Gandalf. She coughed at the smoke, waving away a particularly large smoke butterfly that he'd sent in her direction.

"I would prefer if you didn't silence me again," he began, his eyes stern, but his lips trying and failing to hide a smile. He laughed, though, and Brænna laughed with him, relieved that Beorn hadn't been angry at the Dwarves, or the dragon, and relieved most of all to have this small respite on their months-long march to the Lonely Mountain. "That was an interesting bit of magic you used, though, and I have not seen it's like," he said.

"Really?" she asked. "It's a simple Muffle spell, and I'm actually planning on teaching it to Bilbo later."

"Indeed?" the wizard asked, taking a long drag from his pipe. "Is your type of magic so easily taught and learned? Ours takes years of study."

"Gandalf, I am the Archmage of a college. If anyone knows how to teach someone magic, it is me. Besides, I've already taught Kíli a novice-level sword conjuration spell, and Muffle is only a level above that." Then she wondered- maybe she should just give Bilbo a pair of boots with the enchantment on?

"Sword conjuration?" Gandalf asked, eyes bright with curiosity. "May I see?"

She laughed. "I'm afraid not, Master Wizard, I'm all out of magic, at the moment. I've been using all I can to heal my leg. Though, I can attempt to teach you, if that's all right?"

Gandalf laughed as well, though not as brightly as he'd actually forgotten that Brænna's leg had not quite healed. "Indeed, Archmage Stormcrown, let us do our best!"

"So tell me," Fíli asked suddenly as he and his brother crossed swords once again. "What was that all about?"

"What was what all about?" Kíli asked, confused and startled as he pressed against his brother's guard.

Fíli raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Where's the runestone mother gave you?"

Kíli flushed, and in his lapse of concentration was sent sprawling backward, sword flying out of his now-stinging hand. "It is mine to give, what of it?" he asked defensively.

"Easy now, brother, I won't tell the others about your cuddling with her."

Kíli spluttered and coughed in startlement before snatching his sword and leaping at his brother. Once they were face-to-face again, Fíli whispered, "I don't think that Thorin would appreciate the idea of one of his heirs falling for an Elf."

Kíli's jaw set, eyes narrowing, no longer in a joking mood. When Fíli saw his brother's sudden change in demeanour, he stopped teasing, and quickly the mischievious smirk was replaced with one of concern as he asked, "You didn't see it did you?"

Kíli's cold demeanour was also replaced, but with one of questioning and incredulity. "It wasn't obvious before," Fíli continued. "I thought you were just hiding something- which you were, that being a Dragon, that is, but after the reveal, I looked back on how you and she… interacted, I guess. You've gotten very close, and you care about more than just her safety. Not everyone would dare get between Uncle's sword and his target."

"I guess," Kíli said, voice uncertain. "I.. guess I have. Mahal's beard, what am I going to do?!"

Fíli grabbed his brother by the shoulder and walked him out of the makeshift arena in between the flower beds, and sat his brother facing away from the others onto one of the low stone-stacked walls around the perimeter. Kíli buried his face in his hands and groaned, as his brother thumped him on the back.

"First, I must ask," Fíli began as Kíli peeked at him through his fingers. "Where exactly did this all start? You two hated each other."

Kíli sighed in frustration. "I'm not really sure? I think I started noticing my own feelings when we were separated in the caves."

Fíli gave him an unimpressed flat look. "After she tried to kill us?"

"She didn't try to kill us! It's just… very complicated," Kíli tried to explain, and Fíli pursed his lips, waiting for an answer. "Her Elf side is completely different from her Dragon side. She can't control what she does when they take over and she did it to save Thorin-"

Fíli cut him off quickly, saying "What do you mean, 'they?"

"She… cages Dragon souls within her. It's how she keeps them dead permanently? She explained it to me, once. Where she comes from, apparently Dragons have a way to… come back, I suppose, unless she takes their soul and cages it in her own. When her control slips, or when she uses her special, super-powerful magic, not just the normal stuff, they take control, and they are vicious. I can honestly tell you that we are lucky she has as much self-control as she does," he tried to explain. "I'm not sure how much you saw last night, but her control slipped even a little, and the first thing she did was back away so she didn't accidentally hurt me. I promise you, she cares about our wellbeing, despite the way you all have been treating her," he couldn't help but digging at his brother and the rest of the company with no small amount of irritation.

Expression tight, Fíli said, "It was not my decision to isolate her, though that dragon does make me nervous."

Kíli laughed outright. "Not only is Odahviing harmless, and completely loyal to Brænna, but doesn't that mean you all should endear yourself to her? If you're nervous about her being angry with you, make her like you instead of pushing her away," he said.

Both of them were quiet for a minute, distantly watching the Elf as she took something out of the saddle packs that she had taken off Odahviing's neck, before turning to the Dragon and saying something that they could never hope to hear. Fíli turned towards his brother and saw the soft smile his brother didn't even know he had on, though his eyes were tight with worry.

"What if it's her, Fíli?" he asked, quietly.

"What'chu mean?" asked Fíli, confused.

"What if it's her, what if she's my One? Can Elves be that? She's not even completely Elf though?" he turned toward his brother only to see Fíli's complete and unadulterated shock written all over his face.

"Cer-certainly you can't feel that strongly about her?" Fíli spluttered, glad nobody was around to hear. "This isn't going to end up like that time you chased after that Dwarrowdam, is it?"

Kíli scowled at the memory of that… incident. "No. I was young and foolish, then. This is… this is different. How do I even know that she returns the feelings?"

"For Mahal's sake, Kíli, you're barely seventy-seven! Barely an adult! And though her hair's white, she looks even younger than the Elves back in Rivendell! Durin's beard, you… how do you know you're not a cradle-robber?" Fíli hissed, trying to keep his voice low.

Kíli laughed. "Fí, she's older than you and I, and maybe even some of the others put together. Besides, you know that doesn't matter when it comes to your One.

Fíli glared at his brother, before whining, "Now we definitely can't tell anyone."

"So you'll stay silent then?"

Grimacing, Fíli said, "And deprive myself of future endless teasing you down the road? Of course not. Besides, why wouldn't I do that for my little brother?"

There was a commotion ahead, and the two brothers looked up to see both Odahviing and Brænna had entered the impromptu training area, and several of the Dwarves were getting a little… nervous about how close they were.

"Well, that's our cue to get back," Kíli said, before rushing over to the group.

Fíli shook his head at his brother's eagerness. He knew that Kíli had had feelings for the Elf maid, but he hadn't known they'd run that deep. This was beyond infatuation, and he should've felt that the way that his brother was even hinting at the fact that Brænna was his One was ridiculous, but he wasn't the best judge, as he hadn't found his.

When the Dwarves had realised Odahviing had entered the training area, they had instantly turned their defences, turning from each other toward the red and white Dragon.

Brænna approached the nervous group with a very sly smile on her face. "Bilbo," she called out, spying him through the bristling Dwarves, "If I remember correctly, you asked to learn a little more about dragons, and how to fight, them, right?"

"Y-yes?" he asked, pushing himself toward the front, but still keeping small, especially when Odahviing's jade-colored eyes turned towards him.

"Then your training begins now," she said, turning around and walking back towards the house.

"How will you train me if your leg is broken?" Bilbo asked, utterly confused, and backed up by the murmurs of the other dwarves.

Having sat down on the stone wall, Brænna said, "Oh, I'm not."

She pointed toward the Dragon.

"He is."