i'm putting this up now because i'm quite positive that, once monday hits (here in the philippines, at least), i'll be too busy to be able to make time for updating. so yeah, on with the story!

ALL RIGHTS GO TO JRR TOLKIEN AND PETER JACKSON. (EXCEPT FOR FHEON AND ELIJAH. THEY'RE MINE. THEY'RE FINALLY SETTLING IN A BIT.)

"Your hair's gotten longer."

Fheon sighed, hefting her bow up at a better angle. "Yes, brother," she said, "That is what happens when you don't cut it for nine months. Quite frankly, I'm surprised you haven't gotten a beard fit for dwarves yet."

Elijah looked hurt. "I shave every three days, thank you very much. It doesn't do for a young face like mine to start looking like I was 43."

"Oh please—Wait." She stopped in her tracks when she heard rustling above them. Her head snapped up just in time to see the dozens of birds flying away from where they were headed, resulting in several twigs and leaves falling onto the Rangers' heads. Staring after the flock, Fheon asked, "Do you think Cali's with them?"

"Perhaps," Elijah said with a sigh. "I also think that it's going to rain rather soon."

"Should we tell the others?" she said, no matter how much she did not want to. Even after the months of travelling with them, she still felt that she owed no such loyalty to them. And rain was hardly going to be fatal.

"Though it would be fun to give them a surprise," said Elijah, "I think that would be best, yes." And after a moment, he added, "I'll do it."

Fheon frowned. "You're certain?"

He looked at her. "They aren't very far off. I'll make it quick," he replied. "The Company goes first." Before she could say any more, he gave her forehead a quick peck before circling back and jogging off. Fheon stared after him, waiting for him to disappear behind the thick neck of trees, and then turning around and continuing on her way.

And it was as they'd forecasted. Grey clouds gathered overhead only an hour afterwards. While the dwarves were prepared for a rather heavy kind of rain, Fheon and Elijah were not. When the first few drops of water started bouncing onto their cloaks, they pulled their hoods over their heads only to find that it would do no good. In less than an hour, the light drizzle had turned into a downpour of freezing cold rain. The ground turned muddy and slippery, soaking into their feet as the shower soaked through their clothes.

Elijah did not think twice before shedding his cloak, thinking that it would not be worth dealing with the extra weight anyway, since he was already trembling to the bone. After only a minute of coaxing, he convinced Fheon to do the same. They hurriedly trekked back to the Company and secured their rolled-up cloaks onto the saddle of their carriage-horse. While they did this, Gandalf had engaged the dwarves in an introduction about the rest of his fellow wizards.

"…five of us," he was saying. "The greatest of our order is Saruman the White. Then there are the two Blue Wizards… you know, I've quite forgotten their names."

"And who is the fifth?" Bilbo asked.

"Well, that would be Radagast the Brown," said Gandalf.

"Is he a great wizard, or… is he more like you?"

Fheon managed a small smile.

"I think he's a very great wizard, in his own way," Gandalf explained mildly. "He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the east. And a good thing too, for always evil will look to find a foothold in this world."

She felt someone tap her shoulder, and looked to find Elijah gesturing that they move on. Nodding, she made sure that the straps holding their cloaks were secure before following her brother. But already a little ways away from the Company, someone called her name: "Fheon!" And she knew that voice. She detested the owner, but halted to hear what he had to say anyway.

"If this rain hasn't stopped by nightfall," said Thorin, "make sure you know where to find shelter."

Biting the inside of her cheek, Fheon did not turn around when she nodded, but made sure that he saw anyway. She jogged after her brother, wondering if the Dwarf King had ever been ridiculed by a human before; and if he had not, then she was feeing rather proud to possibly be the first one. Proud and surprised.

Elijah caught sight of a large, open-mouthed dry cave just as the sun was going down. And though the rain was lightening up, they needed a dry place to sleep anyway; he and Fheon dutifully jogged back to the Company and told them of what they had found. If Thorin was pleased, he did not show it. The Rangers led the dwarves to the cave, where they immediately started peeling their armor and coats off of them. Elijah shared a glance with Fheon, who was the only female in the group, and she rolled her eyes.

"Believe me; it will not do me any good," she said, smiling slightly.

"Yes," Elijah quietly replied. "But I'm quite protective of my sister, and I do not want dwarves to be the first people she loses her modesty to."

"You've seen me half-naked before."

"Yes, but I'm your brother. Even Hiram hasn't seen you naked."

Over his shoulder, the Company had laid their wet clothes upon the rocks, no doubt hoping the rain would lighten up enough for them to dry. Everyone, even Bilbo, had changed into what seemed to be their only extra sets of clothing; which were, to say, tunics and breeches. Gandalf was the only one who had not changed out of his clothing, and Fheon doubted he ever would. She wondered when was the last time he had put on a different set of clothes, and wrinkled her nose. Were all wizards like that?

"Go change, brother," she murmured. "The rain looks like it will stop soon. When it does, I'll have to go back out again to look for wood for a fire. Don't want everyone to freeze to death, do we?"

"I'll come with you."

"There's no need. I saw a pile a little ways back, not very far. I'll be back in minutes."

He frowned. "We are very far from civilization, Fheon. There are sure to be wolves—"

"That is what we were trained for, Elijah," she retorted softly. "I know what to do. Now, change and go bond with the dwarves or something." She pushed him forward and, seeing the water dripping from his wild hair, added, "And ask one of them to cut your hair, will you? You look like a dog."

He threw a cheeky grin over his shoulder before removing his belt. Fheon looked away and stood by the mouth of the cave, waiting for the rain to stop completely.

It dragged on for quite a while, but ultimately ended. When it did, Fheon rushed out, ignoring the bite of the cold air compressing against her skin, and keeping her steps light. However, it was difficult to silently walk on mud. She traced the horse tracks of the Company and found the pile of wooden sticks the same place she'd seen it before: by a small hill. Perhaps an animal had gathered it, for some reason. Working quickly, she shook the sticks until they were as dry as they could be, stuffed them into her pack, and turned to walk back to the camp immediately.

She froze when she heard several heavy, wet thuds coming from her right. But the longer she stood still, the closer the sound got. Fheon whirled around, nocking an arrow in the blink of an eye. A large brown blur was coming straight for her. She was forced to dive to the side, barely being able to dodge the deer in time as it ran wildly up the hill, disappearing above. Fheon stared after it in confusion, wondering why it was running. And she received her answer when she switched her attention to where the deer had come from, and found a pack of wolves thundering through the trees. Alarm shot through her. She flattened herself to the muddy ground, forcing the panic out of her veins.

Her heart pulsed violently. The wolves were sure to hear it. Fortunately, they were too focused on chasing the deer to notice. As they ran past her position, Fheon counted that there were five of them. Not very many, but they were larger than the ones she was used to. It was unlucky that they were hunting the only deer that she was going to come across on the way. Slowing her breathing, Fheon stayed on the ground for a minute longer before standing up. Mud stuck to her over-shirt, making the cool cloth stick to her skin. She did all she could to wipe it away and then slipped her pack around her shoulders once more, before nocking an arrow.

If the wolves were left alone, they would follow the ponies' odor to the camp. A single deer was not going to be enough to sate an entire pack's hunger. She could not take that chance. And besides, there was still hope that at least some of the deer would be left.

Fheon followed the wolf tracks on the mud, being as quiet as possible because she knew their hearing was very good; and it was a quiet evening. But it was also getting dark. She had to hurry.

Quickening her pace, she found the wolf pack huddled around a mere lump of the deer, with its limbs already red and only its stomach untouched. Fheon cursed under her breath and pulled another arrow out, so that her bow was nocked with two. Taking a deep breath, she let the arrows fly. She didn't wait for them to meet their target before releasing another one, which embedded itself in a wolf's head. One. Two of the wolves growled at Fheon, advancing on her slowly with their teeth bared. Fheon waited for their next act, her eyes wide in anticipation.

They did not attack at the same time. The one to her left sprung first, and she buried her arrow shaft in its chest. She dodged to the side. The wolf fell to the muddy ground with a shortened yelp. Two. Its companion reared its head back to howl, but Fheon cut it short by shooting its neck. Three. The two wolves she had failed to down advanced as one, her arrows buried in their sides, broken, but not doing much to weaken them. Fheon quickly discarded her bow and unsheathed her dagger, the same moment they leapt at her. She slid to the side with her sword arm out, and was rewarded with a slick sound as her blade cut into one of the wolves' chests. Four. She was straightening up when the remaining lone wolf jumped at her, digging its claws into her shoulders.

As they fell, Fheon flipped them over and pinned the wolf to the ground. It snarled and bit at her face, making her lean back a bit. Tightening her grip on her sword, she pulled her hand back and buried the blade into wolf's neck, to the hilt. The animal's eyes rolled back into its head. With a final whimper, it turned limp beneath Fheon's body. Five.

Fheon stood up and wiped the blood on her sword off using the cloth of her pants. Breathing heavily, she walked from wolf to wolf, slitting their throats for good measure. None of her arrows could be salvaged. She had lost five. The deer's stomach—the part facing upwards, at least—was still good to cook. Fheon hacked off a good part of it and then, realizing she hadn't brought her cloak, peeled her muddy over-shirt off her and used it to wrap the meat. She had one more layer of clothing left apart from her tunic, which was a good thing. She wasted no more time and carried the meat back to the camp, silently hoping there were no more wolves within the immediate vicinity.

In the camp, there was still no fire running. Everyone had their arms around themselves, shivering violently, though Gandalf tried to be subtle about it. Elijah had not moved from his spot, and was staring at the ground when Fheon entered the cave. She dropped the deer meat in front of Bombur, giving him the briefest explanation she could give—"Supper."—before slipping her pack off and taking the sticks of wood out. She handed the bundle to Dori and Nori, who hurriedly went about making a fire. At that point, the wood was completely dry, the moisture soaked by her pack, so no words were said about it being wet. Satisfied, Fheon walked over to her brother and sat beside him. He smiled, nuzzling the top of her head, and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a familiar gruff voice.

"What took you so long?" Thorin asked, stepping away from his spot leaning against the wall. "Were the pile of sticks so far away from where you had originally thought?"

Fheon sighed, taking her boots off. "Do you think hunting a deer takes so short a while?"

"You didn't even bring back the whole thing, lass," said Gloin, further emphasizing Thorin's point. "One side of the deer isn't gonna stay 'til the morning."

"Why?" Thorin added, a suspicious tone edging into his voice.

"If you must know," Fheon said slowly. "I only managed to salvage that square of meat from a pack of wolves."

"Wolves?" Bilbo said, sounding so surprised.

"Yes."

"How many?" Dwalin asked, already hefting up his axe.

Fheon waved him away. "You needn't worry. I've dealt with them—"

"Why didn't you come back and tell me?" Elijah cut in, the worry clear in his voice. "I could have helped—"

"There were five of them, Elijah. Not very threateningly large either." With this, she was lying, but only to ease her brother's nerves. She gave him a reassuring smile as she rummaged through her pack for her extra set of clothes, saying, "I will change, now."

He frowned. "Where?"

"In that corner," she replied, nodding to a dark, vacant space near where Thorin was standing. It was the farthest from the bedrolls of the dwarves. "You're going to cover me with your bigger cloak, of course."

Elijah followed her to the corner and unrolled his cloak. He stretched it as wide as it would go, nodded, and then turned his head.

"If you peek, I'm going to stab you in the eye," she muttered to him, making him laugh. As Fheon was pulling her tunic over her head, she grimaced slightly as a stinging pain erupted from her chest. She glanced down at the compress wrapped around her torso, and found cuts by her collar bones. They must have come from the wolf that had pounced on her… Thinking quickly, she undid the compress and told Elijah to retrieve his canteen of water.

"Why?" he said, doubt lacing his voice. His head turned to look at her but she pushed it back.

"Don't look," she reminded sternly. "One of the wolves scratched me. I have to clean the wound."

"What about the cloak?"

"I'll hold it up." Her fingers tightened around the hems of his cloak and he rushed across the cave to where their packs lay on the ground. The cold air nipped at the scratches on her chest, making Fheon grimace.

As her brother was coming back, she felt eyes on her, and turned her head to find Thorin staring at her. Quietly, she asked, "Have I been useful yet?" He looked quite taken aback. Fheon took the canteen from her brother's hand, and as Elijah regained hold of his cloak, she turned and poured some water onto her cupped hand. She bent it slightly so the scratches stayed beneath the water. As it soaked there, she applied pressure to the skin beside the wounds, so as to dispel the dirt that could have gotten inside.

The stinging increased gradually, and Fheon bit back her hisses. Only when the water had slipped past her hand did she once again wrap her chest with the compress. She slipped out of her current pants and changed into a new pair, and then slipped into a clean tunic. Finished, she gave her brother's shoulder a light tap, but when he turned his head, she was already out of the corner, walking back to their spot by the far wall. She set up her bedroll and sat there, redoing her braid. While she did so, she stared at her bare feet, cool against the cave floor.

Bombur finished with the stew, and Dori gave away the filled bowls. Fheon nodded at the dwarf as he placed her share down beside her, as her hands were rather occupied. She glanced at her brother, who had already started eating, and whispered, "Is it good?"

"Better than yesterday's," he murmured past a mouthful of meat. "It must be the deer. You've saved us all, sister. I am eternally grateful."

The corner of her lips turned up in a small smile. "The Company goes first," she said, and then looked up. "None of the dwarves have cut your hair yet."

"I was thinking you'd know more about styling hair than the lot of them."

"You're joking," she said, feigning seriousness. "We've been in this company for nearly half a year now. Have you not noticed their beards? They're as majestic as the sun."

Elijah laughed loudly as she finished with her hair, shifting so she could unsheath her sword. "You know," he said, "It would do you good to show these dwarves that you actually have a sense of humor."

"And why is that?" Fheon placed the sheath onto the ground and adjusted herself so she was kneeling behind him. She regarded her brother's wild mane of a head.

"Well, you aren't exactly in Thorin's good graces. And the dwarves are actually a good crowd, once you get used to them. Even talking with Bilbo has its benefits!"

"Say if I were to show my true colors," she mused, cutting off a thick bunch of the hair by the nape of his neck. "Exactly how would that conversation start again?"

Elijah started stroking his chin, which had obtained a thin expanse of stubble. "I suppose I'd start it off with a story, and you would cut in from time to time with your wonderful jests."

"I do not think that would end very well." Fheon gathered some hair on the side of his head and cut them off as evenly as she could. "What story would it be anyway?"

"Perhaps our life story?"

She gave the back of his head a rough swipe, and then hastily finished off with his trim. "Funny," she muttered as she returned to her bedroll. While she finished her stew, she judged her work from afar. She could have done better with the back, but the front looked just fine.

When she finished with her food, she handed the bowl to Ori and laid down on her bedroll, staring at the stony ceiling. Elijah soon followed suit and rolled to his side, looking at her. "But I am serious though, sister," he murmured into the silence. "We must tell them soon. We must."

Fheon turned her head slightly—to look at the dwarves who had finally settled down and was humming a silent, peaceful tune; to Gandalf, who was smoking on his pipe as usual, a small smile playing on his lips; to Bilbo, enjoying the soft melody; to Thorin, who had taken up the first watch. Fheon read the look on his face silently, a look of calm and kindness. If his words were the same, perhaps she could learn to see him as a leader. But until then, he would simply be another one of the many dwarves she had to protect.

Meeting her brother's eyes again, she said, "Soon."

p.s. Quadratic Equations

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