Disclaimer: I don't own The Hobbit!

A/N: Grad school is trying to kill meee, I am SO SO SO sorry for not updating sooner! Thank you for being such lovely, loyal readers! MERRY CHRISTMAS! And please review, reviews tend to motivate me to update faster.

Chapter 5

Camy could feel the tension building between Mim and Fili as the two of them glared at each other, neither speaking. Durin, Durin…she knew that name, but she was having trouble placing it at the moment. There was a plant, she was sure, of that name. Durin's Wealth, a little green sprout with yellow flowers that could be used to ease toothache if you chewed it. But she knew there was another story behind the name of Durin, though it was escaping her at the moment. She moved over to the stove and set the skillet down on top of it. The sound of metal clanging against metal seemed very loud in the charged silence.

Omelets. Omelets would make everything better. She started cracking eggs.

"So what of it?" Fili finally asked Mim, his voice cold, "Why does it matter if we're making for the mountain?"

"It's idiocy, that's why," Mim replied. She moved away from the dwarf and grabbed the bowl that she had just dumped flour into. Some of the white flour fluffed into the air and clouded around their heads. "You must know what bides its time in that damnable mountain, and even if you don't, thanks to youth's ignorance, I'm certain the head of your esteemed household does."

Fili's back was as straight as a mountain pine. "We know the danger—"

"And yet you willingly go to taunt the beast?" Mim shook the bowl of flour at him, adding to the puffy cloud that had just begun to settle. "What're your plans, to nicely ask it to fly off and leave your gold and baubles alone? Bah!"

Camy glanced over at Fili, trying to tell him with her eyes that she was sorry for Mim's attitude. The woman could be somewhat, er, abrasive when she thought you were wrong or doing something moronic. Apparently this whole mountain and dwarf situation was sitting ill with her. Fili's bright blue gaze met hers, and the anger on his face lightened for a moment.

"We aren't going to the mountain without having thought about the consequences. We have a master burglar in our Company," Fili replied, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Mim again, "And Thorin has a solid plan to reclaim our kingdom."

"Of course he does," Mim said sarcastically, "But if the grand plan is to steal away years of dwarvish wealth, he'll need an army of master burglars, not just one." She thunked the bowl of flour down again, and Camy waved away the puff that floated over to her. "All of the well-laid plans in the world are for naught against a dragon."

"A dragon?" Camy asked, lifting her head, her eyes widening. Now she recalled the tale of the line of Durin, and she nearly dropped her skillet in the remembering. As it was, it clattered about on the stove top as she caught at the handle. "Oh! Oh! Erebor!" She gasped and then gaped at the golden-haired dwarf. "You're going to go fight a dragon?! The enormous, fire-breathing, flying, clawed, scaly ferocious kind?"

Fili's eyebrows rose as he turned toward her, a smile slowly catching at the corner of his mouth. "Well, I don't know if I'll be fighting him directly, but yes, that kind of dragon."

Camy could hardly imagine how horrible that would be, to face near-certain death by flame or talon. And he was so very calm about it! "Goodness…"

"You don't know if you'll be fighting—hmph." Mim snorted. "If you're going to be fighting a dragon at all, even indirectly, we might as well not have wasted the time to patch you up. Charbroiled dwarves, indeed…" She glanced over at Camy. "Speaking of burning, watch the stove. Your eggs are getting scorched."

"Fiddlesticks!" Camy moved the skillet off the stove top and frowned down at the curling, browned eggs. "Aw…" Oh well, not the end of the world, she would just have to start over. Throwing open the window over the stove, she flipped the ruined eggs out into the yard where the possums and foxes would enjoy them and then grabbed another pair of eggs. She cracked them in the skillet before glancing over her shoulder to see Mim cross her arms tightly over her chest.

"I suppose you're determined to rejoin Thorin on this fool's errand, aren't you?"

"We are. My uncle knows what he is doing, and I will ask you to show him the respect he deserves, ma'am."

"Ah," Mim said, "So Thorin's not just a cousin..." She sighed. "Dwarves and their blood ties. Then there's no use in trying to talk you out of it."

Fili picked up one of the hair clasps and pulled his hair back, away from his face. "No, not really," he said as he clipped the clasp into his hair. "We'll get back on the road as soon as possible."

Camy looked down at the skillet and tried not to appear too awfully disappointed. It wasn't that she wanted to keep them here as prisoners or anything, definitely not! But…she did sort of want them to stay for a while so she could get to know them better. Having Kili around for the past couple days had been quite fun, even when she was rescuing him from honey pots and acting as a buffer between him and Mim. It was almost like having a friend her own age, or the equivalent there of, and she wondered if maybe they actually could become true friends if they stayed a little longer. He was so very amiable and quite easy to talk to. And she didn't even know Fili at all yet, really, and she wouldn't mind getting acquainted. New people were far more interesting than she had even imagined.

"You won't be leaving before you're fully healed, you stubborn thing," Mim said to Fili, her tone sharp, "You won't make it past the gate, the state you're in, and your thick-headed brother isn't much better off."

Fili stared, and Camy had to bite her lips to keep from smiling as she slipped the finished eggs onto a plate. She had never seen anyone else talk with Mim before, so it was sort of funny to see them react to her cantankerous but kind nature.

"But you were just saying that you wasted time healing us…" Fili said.

Mim brushed some of the flour off her arm. "Well, there's no helping that now, is there? And I don't leave a task half-finished. Bad for business." She moved away from the table, heading in the direction of her workroom. "Ridiculous, foolhardy, obdurate dwarves, hard-headed as the rocks they live under—"

"Thank you, Mim," Fili said, interrupting her grumbling, "I appreciate what you're doing for us, even if you don't believe in our cause."

For a moment, Mim paused at the door, and her expression softened just a little as she turned back toward them. "You're welcome, princeling." She lifted her chin and went into her workroom, her voice drifting back to them before the door shut. "Do not mention it again."

The moment the door settled into place, Camy turned toward Fili and scampered over to the table to stand near him. "You're on a real quest, aren't you? That's terribly exciting, have you ever been on one before? I've only read about them in books and heard the stories, myself."

"Me too," Fili said, looking down at her. The frown lines smoothed out as he gave her a small grin. "This is my first real adventure. It's turned out a little different than expected…" He glanced down at his injured ankle wryly.

"Well, don't you worry about that, you'll be as right as rain soon enough. Then you can go fight your dragon properly."

Fili laughed and leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "I suppose you're right."

Camy smiled and then shook her head as she grabbed the bowl of flour and pulled it closer. "It must be very exciting, being on a quest."

"Some days it is," Fili said, glancing up at the ceiling before looking at her, "other days it's just a lot of walking, and it doesn't seem like we're getting anywhere."

"But you are. Going somewhere I mean." Camy moved to get a few more ingredients for the biscuits. Her eyes slid to the window as she passed it and to the vale beyond, the only place she had ever known. "That must be nice…"

"It is, until it's raining buckets and your wizard tells your there's nothing to be done about it. Or you almost drown in a river. Or you've got a pack of wargs chasing you down, wanting to tear you limb from limb."

Camy whirled around, her eyes wide. "What!"

"I'm telling the truth, honestly! The wargs were right before we reached Rivendell—"

"The Last Homely House! Describe it for me, please, I've only heard tales from Mim."

While they made breakfast, Camy listened as Fili told the whole tale, from the beginning when his uncle had declared that they were going to reclaim their kingdom up to the point where she had found them in the woods. It was a very riveting story, full of battles and exhilaration and bravery, but Camy kept finding herself intrigued by the burglar, who turned out to be a hobbit like herself. Yet in many ways, it seemed like they were not very similar at all.

Camy cocked her head to the side, smudging flour across her nose and cheek as she tucked some of her curls behind her pointed ear. "Why ever would he would be so adamant about proper table settings for dinner at a campsite?"

Fili rubbed his hands on a cloth and shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I suppose it was just because he was used to doing things a certain way. He gave up on table settings soon enough."

"You'd have to, wouldn't you, if there wasn't an actual table to set?"

"I don't think Mr. Bilbo thinks that way," Fili said, smirking a little, "He's a sort of fussy fellow, very proper, and Kili's always teasing him about it…" He lifted his head as if remembering something and looked at the door, his frown returning. "Kili should be back by now."

"He's probably looking for the best stick he can find for your crutch," Camy said, "I bet he's—"

The door of the tiny home slammed open, banging on the wall with a loud clap. Startled, Camy jumped. Fili was on his feet immediately, bracing himself with one hand on the table as he grabbed a knife left over from preparing breakfast. He lowered the weapon a second later as Kili rushed inside, wearing a triumphant smirk. His good hand was out in front of him and clutched in it was a hunk of honeycomb, dripping sweet sticky drops of honey onto Mim's rug. Unfortunately, that same hand was starting to swell.

"I got your crutch! And I got honey, too, but the bees didn't seem to like me very much."

Fili's face turned an intriguing shade of red. "I couldn't imagine why! Kili, you're a—" Whatever he called his brother and whatever else he said was lost in the dwarven language, a harsh but warm tongue that Camy didn't understand a word of.

While Fili grumbled at his brother, who looked entirely unashamed, Camy darted off to Mim's work room. She slipped inside, not looking at Mim in hopes of getting what she needed without questions. The woman was bent over her work table, cutting lavender with a steady hand. Grabbing fresh basil and parsley, Camy darted back out, feeling Mim's eyes were on her but she avoided looking back at her. Now to go patch up Kili.

Later that afternoon, on a quilt out on the front lawn, amidst the summer wildflowers and thick patches of mountain moss, Kili and Camy napped, the dark-haired head close to the golden curly one. The two of them had been pointing out clouds to each other, declaring them to be rabbits, swords, flowers and horses, before Kili had nodded off with Camy swiftly following suit. Kili's wrapped up bee stung hand was draped over his eyes while Camy's floppy hat shielded her from the sun.

Fili sat on the nearby front porch steps, whittling away at his new crutch. It was mostly finished, but he was adding runes to the side, ones for swift healing that his mother would have approved. One of his many knives made a good whittling tool. He occasionally glanced over at his brother and the little hobbit lass, a half-smile on his face. For the first time since they had begun this journey, Kili looked completely at rest, that rampant energy of his banked for an afternoon nap. Beside him, Camy had a peaceful look on her face as she slept. Hobbits were a kind, gentle race by nature, it seemed.

By the door, Mim was tilting back and forth in a rickety rocking chair, knitting needles clacking in her hands. Humans, on the other hand, were a mystery to Fili. And he still didn't understand why a hobbit and an old human woman were holed up together in this hidden mountain valley.

"Miss Mim," Fili said, glancing over at her, "Can I ask you a question?"

"You already did," Mim said, not looking up from her knitting, "But go ahead and ask another one. I can tell you'll do it anyways, not sure why you bothered asking for permission."

Such a prickly lady, like one of his mother's pin cushions except all the needles were sticking with the pointy side outward. Fili slid his knife along the side of his crutch, scraping away another layer of wood as he defined a rune. "All right then. Have you always been Camy's guardian?"

Mim's laugh was quick and startling, and it made Fili grip his knife tighter. However, her eyes as she finally looked up at him, were filled with good humor. "Master dwarf, are you asking if I stole my hobbit?"

"It's just a strange situation, a hobbit and a human living together," he said, watching her steadily, "I just—"

"It's not an illegitimate concern," Mim said, waving her hand as she looked back at her knitting, the needles click-clacking, "It is a snatch of an odd tale, but I've always been her guardian, since she was a babe."

"How's that? Are there hobbits about?" Fili asked. He lowered his knife, resting his elbow on his knee. It seemed unlikely seeing how the mountain was overrun with goblins. Unless they had killed Camy's folks…

"No, no hobbits hiding hereabout," Mim said, shaking her head.

Quiet fell on them for a few long minutes while Fili waited for her to tell more of the story. Finally, he had sigh and pick up his whittling again. "You're not going to me, are you?"

"It's not entirely my story to tell," Mim said, "But since you're such a pushy princeling, I guess I'll tell you."

Fili tried not to bristle too much the insult as he turned to her, the crutch resting in his lap. In the chair, Mim kept knitting and rocking, a steady beat to it.

"I've lived in this house for many years," she started, eyes on his knitting, "And I only go into town once a month to deliver herbs and tend to the sick and injured there. About thirty years ago, I was making the trip back from town in the winter months. It was bitter cold, like the wind would whip your nose off if it blew a little harder." She leaned back in her chair, and he saw her gaze dart to the sleeping hobbit girl on the quilt. "I saw her there, by the roadside, all wrapped in a cloak that wasn't warm enough for the time of year."

"It was Camy?"

"Her mother," Mim replied, "A very pregnant young hobbit, not too much older than Camy now. She was from one of the hobbit cans that live down by the Great River… She was very ill and had traveled for from home. I brought her back her, nursed her, tried to heal her but…" Mim shook her head, the knitting needles going still in her lap. "She passed on after Camy was born. Lived long enough to hold the babe and name her then gave her to me for safe keeping." Fili saw her smile as if remembering many years with company of the hobbit lass. "Raised her myself." She suddenly pointed one of the knitting needles at Fili, making him blink. She jabbed it at him. "I know what you're wondering, lad. How'd she turn out like she is living with an old sourpuss like me." Mim laughed and shook her head, the needles beginning to click and clack again, swift and sure. "Not sure. She's just full of light, born that way."

"Kili's like that, sort of," Fili said, nodding, "People like him right when they meet him, like they're drawn to him. He's just got that spark in him."

"Eh, don't compare the imp to my girl," Mim said with a snort, "Camy's sweet and full of goodness. Your brother is a happy-go-lucky fire demon."

And then they were back to glaring at each other.

The still heaviness of sorrow had not yet lifted from the Company even as they sat in the comfortable warmth of Beorn's cozy home.

"I'll take it to him," Balin said, glancing at the untouched bowl of stew at his elbow, sitting between him and Dwalin. His younger brother lowered his eyes and then tore at the bread in the middle of the table savagely.

"He should come eat on his own, he can't keep acting like this," the tall dwarf snarled, his voice dark. Dwalin was reacting with anger and guilt, as if he could have somehow saved the boys. Balin stood up and squeezed Dwalin's arm as he grabbed the bowl.

"Give him time," Balin said. He patted Bofur's shoulder on the way out to the porch, worried about the normally cheerful toymaker. He had been silent since the caves, his eyes clouded over. The loss of the boys was affecting everyone.

Balin doubted that they would recover any time soon from the events that had spiraled out of control in Goblin Town. They had all signed out for this journey with the knowledge that it was dangerous and death lingered, waiting for any of them at a moment's notice, but no one had suspected that they would lose their youngest members. Fili and Kili had seemed so alive, so invincible in their youth.

It was hard to adjust to the idea that the boys were gone. They had been part of Balin's life since they day Fili was born, laughing, joking, teasing, playing, reading, learning, talking. Kind-hearted, good boys, true and noble with a touch of royalty about them. They had brought joy to his life and to the lives of others, and whenever Balin thought about telling Dis…his heart couldn't take it.

He carried the bowl out to the porch, where Thorin was standing, his back ramrod straight as he stood statue-like by the railing. The leader of their Company was vicious of late, and everyone was avoiding him like you would avoid a rabid wolf. Granted, they had reasons. After they had gotten out of the caves, Thorin had attacked Dwalin for stopping him from going after the boys.

"You should eat," Balin said, his voice low and insistent.

It was a long time before Thorin spoke, and when he did, it was harsh. "Go, Balin. I do not need you watching out for me as if I am a child."

"Apparently, you do." Balin sat the bowl down on the railing and turned to face his old friend and student. He had trained Thorin in everything from war to strategy to diplomacy, which he hadn't taken to as quickly as the first two. He had seen him like this in the past, and it was a foul, dark time that would take patience and understanding to deal with. "You must eat, Thorin."

"I will eat when I take a care too, old one," he growled. "Leave me."

"They wouldn't want—"

"Go!"

Balin sighed and turned, closing his eyes against the pain and hurt in Thorin's voice, almost hidden completely by the rage. They would never fully recover from this. Good boys, too soon gone from this world. They would never know how much they were missed.