Author's Notes: This story was very much inspired by an amazing piece of fan art by bridgioto on Tumblr, and goes hand-in-hand with the last fic I wrote (The Darkest Hour). Like the last fic, I drew greatly from an (amazing) William Kircher interview from the LA Times, as well as other various interviews given by James, William, and Stephen. I know it's sort of up in the air about where the trio of cousins come from, so in my head canon they hail from the Blue Mountains. Enjoy.

NO GOOD NEWS IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT

The night air was abuzz with many noises. Crickets chirped as they hopped through the grass outside. An owl hooted to its mate. The wind moaned as it rustled through the trees and brush. A stag could be heard walking through the calming rush of a nearby stream. These sounds all mingled together, creating the evening melody of mother earth, but Bofur could not hear any of it. Not over the sound of Bombur's snoring, that is. The dwarf rolled onto his other side, hoping his brother's heavy breathing only several feet away would cease soon enough.

The brothers had been living together for quite some time. Ever since their father had passed on, they found themselves closer than they had been in years. Bofur and Bombur had always had a sturdy bond, but as of late they seemed to have gained a certain closeness that they had not felt since they were children. They now shared a home together and both worked in the mines to earn enough wages to keep on living. They worked throughout the day, and when they came home each night Bombur would cook them a hearty meal while Bofur sung songs and poked fun at his younger brother's vast size. It was a good life; simple, but good. However, it was beginning to look like their days living under the same roof would soon be at an end. Bombur, for the last several weeks, had been courting a dwarf lass, Hón, whom he was particularly fond of. It was far too early in their relationship to make any lifelong commitments, but the topic of marriage had come up a time or two between the brothers. Bofur understood. Dwarf females weren't exactly common amongst their people, and Hón was an exceptionally lovely lass. As much as Bofur didn't mind the idea of having a house all to himself, he would miss living with Bombur – not to mention all the good cooking that came along with him.

The small village on the side of the Blue Mountains where Bofur and Bombur called home was primarily a mining town, and the profits the miners turned out had increased ever since more dwarves had made the village their home. While the men who already lived there were decent miners, the dwarves were experts. They knew their way around the caves, and wielded their mining tools with far more precision and greater strength than the men could ever hope for. Not that the men were complaining. The dwarves, while a tad greedy about their findings, were great assets to the miners and they were thankful for their assistance. Bofur enjoyed his work as a miner. It was a fine way to spend the day.

As the snoring continued, Bofur groaned and rolled to his opposite side yet again. He opened his eyes, looking at Bombur sleeping soundly – and loudly – in his own bed a ways off. Normally Bombur's snoring didn't bother him. The two of them had shared a room when they were little ones, and he had grown accustom to it at a young age. Bofur couldn't help but think, while the snoring was indeed loud, that wasn't what was keeping him awake. He had a funny feeling at the pit of his stomach, as if something wasn't sitting right with him. He couldn't put a finger on it, but he found himself worried over nothing in particular. Thinking this over, the dwarf sighed. He was just being silly. There was nothing to worry about. Nothing whatsoever. With that, he closed his eyes once more, nestling his face against his soft pillow.

Just as Bofur finally felt himself beginning to drift off, there came a loud knock at their door. Bofur bolted straight up, the sudden sound taking him completely by surprise. He waited a moment, listening, until there came another knock, this one much longer and louder than the last. When he realized the snoring had ceased, Bofur looked to Bombur. His younger brother sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Who could that be?" Bombur asked groggily.

Bofur did not respond. He did not know who was at their door, but what he did know was that no good news was ever delivered this late at night. When the knocking continued – now incredibly louder than before – Bofur leapt out of his bed and rushed to see who it was. The worried feeling that had been nagging him awake only moments before was suddenly back, leaving Bofur with much unease. Upon reaching the oak door, he swung it open to see who was knocking.

It was Gustaw, a man who lived in the village next to theirs. They had met him a few times when visiting the neighboring town. He was a jolly fellow, almost as large in size as Bombur, and was one who always seemed to have a smile on his face and laughter on his breath. The dwarf felt his heart begin to sink when he saw there was no laughter or smiling to be had from Gustaw on this night. There was no joy at all. His face was worn and austere, and it looked as if he had just been in a tussle of sorts. Bofur wondered if maybe he had been attacked on his way home at this late hour and was in need of shelter for the evening.

At least, that's what Bofur found himself hoping.

"Gustaw. What are you doing here?"

The man gritted his teeth, searching for the words to explain what had happened. "It's my village. There's been an attack. Orcs. They came out of nowhere."

Bofur closed his eyes. No, he thought. Not this. Please, not this.

"Is everyone all right?" Bombur asked, who had made his way next to Bofur by this point.

Gustaw hesitated, but then nodded. "Most of the townsfolk are fine. They sounded the alarm early on, and we were able to fight them off before they… but… but there were some… there were some causalities…"

Neither of the two brothers spoke for a moment as fear began to engulf every inch of them. While Bofur had already presumed the worst, they both now knew for certain why Gustaw was there. Bofur finally found his voice and asked the dreaded question:

"He's dead, isn't he?"

A wave of relief washed over the brothers as Gustaw shook his head, but before they could release their held breathes the large man gave them the blunt of his news. "No. At least… not yet… To be honest, lads, it doesn't look good. He's wounded. Badly. They're saying he might not make it through the night." The two dwarves looked up at the man, wide eyed and afraid, which made it all the more difficult for Gustaw to continue with his bad news. "But there's more. His family – his wife and son – they didn't… we couldn't…"

Gustaw did not need to finish his sentence. From the expression on his face and the way his hands were tightly grasping one another, the dwarves knew exactly what he meant.

In silence, Bofur and Bombur prepared to leave. They threw on some clothes for travel and grabbed the bare minimum of necessities for their journey to the other town. Bofur placed his hat on top of his head as they made for the door.

They found Gustaw waiting outside for them on his horse. The two retrieved their ponies from the tiny paddock next to their home. On any other occasion Bofur and Bombur would walk to the neighboring village, seeing as it wasn't too far away, but this wasn't any other occasion.

The trio did not speak as they galloped down the path towards Gustaw's village. A million questions raced through the brothers' minds, but they found their mouths paralyzed. All they could do was silently pray that this night would not end in anymore loss, and grieve the ones who were already taken from them.

It was still dark out by the time they reached the village. It was another mining town, much like the one the brothers lived in, only a tad larger and better known for their exporting. As they rode down the path they had trod on so many times before, Bofur and Bombur took notice of the wreckage around them. Some of the houses appeared to have been set aflame earlier in the night, and the contents of shops were flung throughout the streets. Doors had been ripped off their frames. Windows were broken, and gardens demolished. And the townsfolk. The townsfolk were in hysterics. Babies were crying. Women wandered through the streets, frightened looks upon their faces. Men with bows and arrows stood on rooftops keeping watch. Some dwarves were dragging orc corpses to the edge of the town. In the distance they could hear sobs and screams.

As they rounded a bend, they saw it. The house they had often visited and come to know. Upon seeing it, Bombur let out a strangled cry and dismounted from his pony. Bofur watched as his brother ran towards the home, before getting off his own pony and then following after him. He tied their mares up to a post outside, steadied himself, and then entered the house.

While the home did not appear to have been set on fire, as many of the others had, it was not in its normal state. Dishes knocked to the ground, pictures fallen off the walls, furniture overturned. A struggle had taken place. Bofur's eyes scanned the room, taking in his surroundings. He almost could not recognize the orderly, well-kept home he was so accustomed. His boot kicked something on the ground. He reached down to pick up a toy horse, recognizing the handiwork almost instantly. It killed him inside to know the young one the toy was intended for would never hold it in his tiny hands ever again.

"Bofur."

The dwarf turned upon hearing his brother's voice. Bombur, whose face had gone quite pale, pointed a pudgy finger to a side of the house Bofur had yet to take notice of. Bofur clamped a hand over his mouth when he saw what it was that made Bombur look so afraid.

Blood. There was blood everywhere.

Bofur looked back towards Gustaw, who was quietly crouched outside the front door.

"Where is he?"

Gustaw stood. "Town's doctor has been looking after him. Follow me."

Bombur and Bofur left the home, not bringing themselves to look back s they went. Bofur slid the wooden horse into his coat pocket as he followed after Gustaw.

The three walked past several buildings. Already the townsfolk had begun to clean up from the raid, despite the fact that it was still night. After several minutes of walking, Gustaw stopped in his tracks. Looking down at the two, he gestured towards a building in front of them.

"He's in there?" Bombur asked the man.

Gustaw responded with a soft "aye" and this time, instead of just Bombur, both brothers took off together. They burst in through the building's door, not even bothering to knock, and that's when they saw him.

Their cousin lay unconscious on a man sized bed. While he was completely clothed, the dwarves saw that his body was covered in wounds. Patches of blood seeped through some of his clothes, and bits of his gray and black beard were covered in red. But this was not what caused their mouths to hang open, nor the fear they had been carrying since Gustaw had first spoken to awaken to new levels. No, it was something far worse that caught their eyes.

There was an axe lodged deep inside Bifur's forehead.

They were so focused on their wounded cousin that the two of them did not notice the other occupants in the house. There were several other patients, both conscious and unconscious, lying on beds in the same room and having their wounds tended to. The town's doctor, a tall man who'd seen many orc raids in his life, could tell by the expressions on the dwarves' faces that they were more than just friends of Bifur. They were family. Unfortunately, he could not have the family of a patient in his home. Not just yet. There was still work to be done.

"Wyn."

One of the young girls, who had just finished wrapping an elderly man's arm, nodded. She had been assisting the town's doctor for close to a year now, and she was used having to turn family members away.

The girl, who could not have been more than sixteen, went forward to the two dwarves and began ushering them out the door they had just come through.

"I'm sorry, but you can't be in here right now."

"But that's our cousin!" Bombur protested.

"Bifur!" Bofur called out, but the unconscious dwarf did not respond. He tried again. "Bifur!" Nothing.

Wyn worried for a moment that the two would fight back against her. While she was a good head taller than them, she knew the strength of dwarves and that, if they choose to fight her, she would not be strong enough to hold them back. Lucky for her, while the two verbally protested, they did not physically fight against her. Once they were outside, Wyn folded her hands in front of her chest, trying to keep her demeanor calm and collected. "You may see him when the doctor is done caring for him. For now, you may wait out here."

Without another word, the girl closed the door in their faces.

The two dwarves stood in silence for a long while, almost as if they were waiting for the girl to come back, apologize, and usher them inside at any moment. She never did. Suddenly, Bofur slammed his fist angrily against the side of the house, releasing an anguished scream. He wheeled around, only to find his brother looking petrified. Bombur was unaccustomed to seeing his elder brother so upset. Bofur was always the laid back one, finding the positive when all hope seemed lost. He was the one Bombur always turned to when he needed cause to smile. Bofur felt instant regret as he realized how scared his brother must be. He couldn't put Bombur through anymore. Not on a night like this.

"I'm sorry, Bombur," Bofur said with a disgruntled sigh. "I just… I can't understand why we have to be out here. Why can't we be in there? Why can't we wait with him? That's not right. This is not right. We wouldn't be in the way. Why can't we?"

Bombur did not answer any of his brother's questions. He simply stared at the door, remembering what he had just witnessed, until he finally brought himself to ask aloud, "What was that in his forehead?"

And Bofur found he could not answer his brother's question either. Not for lack of an answer, but because he could not bring himself to say out loud what they had seen.

The next couple hours consisted of almost nothing but pacing. Bombur and Bofur paced like mad, knowing that if they were to stop the gravity of what they were going through would hit them. Hard. They paced and paced and paced, and as the hours rolled by they felt their fear worsen.

"I wish I had brought food…" Bombur said at one point, placing his hands on his large gut.

To the untrained ear this comment would sound gluttonous and selfish, but Bofur knew his little brother all too well. He knew food was not only his greatest passion, but his source of comfort in times like these. To be eating would truly calm Bombur's nerves. Bofur also realized just how worried his brother truly was, to have forgotten to bring any food whatsoever along with him. He gave Bombur a small smile. "Maybe we can find you something to eat. The sun's almost up and some of the markets that weren't too badly damaged might be open."

Bombur gave him a disheartened look. "Do you think we'll know by then?"

"… I'm not sure."

The two resumed their pacing, and it wasn't until the sun had risen ever so slightly above the hills, beckoning the start of a new day, that the brothers were admitted to the house.

The doctor opened his door, allowing Wyn and some of the other girls to exit carrying tools that were in need of washing. As she passed by the dwarves they noticed how Wyn refused to look them in the eyes. Anxious, they hurried over to the doctor who stood in his door frame waiting for them.

"Well?" Bofur asked, clutching his hat against his chest.

The doctor was wiping his hands on an old rag. His face sagged with the tiredness of a stressful night.

"Your cousin's a brave dwarf. When the attack came he was one of the first of our village defending it. He was badly wounded many times, but he should be fine. I was able to fix him up and clean all of his wounds… except for one."

The dwarves looked at him, puzzled at what he could mean. Knowing he couldn't hide it from them, the doctor took a step aside from the door. Bofur and Bombur were now able to get their first good look at Bifur since they had burst in earlier that evening. The wounds certainly looked like they had been touched up, as there were bandages placed all over Bifur's arms and body. The blood that had been caked on his skin and clothes was now washed away, and no longer was there any red to be found in his big, bushy beard. Bandages aside, Bifur looked as if he were back to his normal self, save for one problem. One immense problem.

The axe blade, the one they had seen protruding from their cousin's forehead hours ago, was still there.

"The axe?" Bombur asked, returning his gaze to the doctor.

The doctor nodded. Bombur thought about this for a moment, looking back at his cousin, and then back once more at the doctor. His brow furrowed, wondering how the doctor could not see the solution to the problem when it was so obvious.

"Well, just take it out then."

"It doesn't work like that –"

"No. No, no, no," Bombur said, cutting off the doctor's words. "You just said he was fine. He is going to be fine, right? So just take the axe out. What's so difficult about that?"

"We can't take it out."

"Well why not?"

"Because it could kill him if we did."

Bombur drew in a quick breath as the doctor revealed this news. He looked to his older brother, whose eyes were glued on Bifur in horror.

"He'll die if you remove it?" Bofur asked quietly, wringing the hat in his hands.

"Most likely."

No one spoke for a moment; the only sounds to be heard were the doctor's assistants tending to other wounded patients inside.

"How did it happen?"

The doctor tucked his rag away in his pants pocket. "The townsfolk saw him fighting, uninjured, early on in the raid. They said he took down many an orc and was a fierce fighter… but by the end of the attack no one knew where he had gone. He was soon found in his home, with a dead wife and child. We don't have any confirmation, but we think he may have died trying to protect them. Or maybe they were dead when he got there. We're not sure."

Tears prickled at Bofur's eyes. He noticed his brother's lowered head as he took in the information about not just their cousin, but the sister-in-law and baby boy they had loved so dearly. They had been family to them, and now they were gone. Just like that.

Trying to bring the conversation back on topic, Bofur asked, "So he has to live with that thing in his head for all his life?"

The doctor nodded again.

Bofur licked his lips, trying to find the light in all of this. Yes, his cousin would have to bare an axe in his forehead for the rest of his days, and yes, his family was gone, but Bifur was still alive and well. That had to count for something. "But he's going to be all right… right?"

The doctor did not respond for a moment. He looked back at the unconscious dwarf, then pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Come inside."

Bofur and Bombur entered the doctor's chambers. Everything was of a man's scale, but they were used to feeling small amongst the men of the Blue Mountains. Most of the other patients were unconscious or asleep, with only one or two still awake. Some of them looked in even worse shape than their cousin, and the dwarves wondered to themselves how many would live to see the end of the day. The doctor directed them towards two short stools, appropriate heights for dwarves, which the brothers sat upon as the doctor brought over a chair of his own. He looked at them both, chin resting in the palm of his hand, eyes squinting at the pair, trying to find a way to explain what had to be said.

"Your cousin… he's never going to be the same."

A nervous smile twitched on Bofur's lips. "Well of course he's never going to be the same," he said, attempting to lighten the mood. "He's got an axe sticking out of his face. He's gonna have to fight off nicknames for the rest of his life. I've already got a list going myself."

Bofur hoped for a smile in return, but instead the doctor just stared at him blankly. "That's not what I mean." The dwarf felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"This is what we know," the doctor began. "The axe is lodged in a part of your cousin's brain that is crucial to his way of living. I have seen and dealt with things of this nature in the past and, trust me, it is safer to leave the axe in. Most cases where the axe has been pulled out… they did not end well.

"For a small portion of time while we were cleaning his wounds and caring for him, your cousin did become conscious. It appears, physically, he will be fine and should have no problems operating his body… but his mind… it seems the axe may have damaged his way of thinking. Of conceiving the world around him. When he spoke to me it was in some language I had never heard before – I can only assume it was your people's language – and he did not speak once in the common tongue. I have spoken with Bifur many times before tonight, and never once have I heard him speak this language.

"I fear that the axe's blade may have caused harm to the part of your cousin's brain that controls the way he speaks. I don't know if this will be permanent, but I'm afraid it may very well be. He also seemed… very much not himself. When he woke up he was in a frenzy. He attempted to fight the girl who was cleaning him, and it took almost all of my assistants to hold him down. It'd be understandable if he were frightened about what's happened, but it seemed much more frantic than that. His actions were untamed. What's more, when he looked at me… it felt as if he did not recognize me. It felt like he didn't recognize anything. As if he could not conceive where he was or what was going on. He didn't seem all there… Now, I don't know what else is wrong with him, but I don't think it's all right for him to be on his own. He'll need constant supervision, especially in these first few days to come. He doesn't have a family now, so you two will have to watch him. Maybe even take him in. There's no telling what he'll do or how he'll act, but I don't think it's safe to leave him on his own. Your cousin is not the same dwarf you've come to know… and I fear he will never be the same again."

The brothers silently took this all in. The doctor's words scared Bofur. It was too much. Bifur was his older cousin, and had been there for him ever since he was a babe. He had watched over them and taught them so much about the world. He was the cousin that gave them pony rides and made them toys as children, and later taught them how to fight when they reached that certain age where young dwarf boys long to take up arms. Bifur had always been there for him, and now there was a chance that he would never be again. Bofur had no idea how to deal with this change. The chance that his cousin, one of his dearest friends, would be forever different broke Bofur's heart in two. He had no idea what Bifur would be like now. He had no idea what to anticipate.

Bombur, who had been looking at Bifur for a while now and had not said a word since the doctor had ceased his arguments to take the axe out of his cousin's head, finally spoke up.

"But he'll live."

A small smile graced the doctor's lips. He nodded one last time. "Yes. He will live."

Bombur's eyes drifted back to his unconscious cousin, a sudden determination imprinted on his face.

"Good."

The fat dwarf stood up and waddled over towards the bed Bifur lay on. Before reaching his destination, the dwarf stopped and looked back at the doctor once more.

"You're wrong. He does have a family. He's got us."

With that, Bombur made his way to a chair next to the head of the bed. He sat down, then without hesitation plucked up Bifur's limp hand and held onto it tightly.

Bofur shook the doctor's hand and gave him a quiet "thank you" before following his brother's suit. He stood behind Bombur and observed his wounded cousin. Bifur looked so peaceful, as if he were simply sleeping. While Bofur was terrified about what the future had in store for them, he knew his brother was right. Bifur was family. No matter the changes, they would welcome him into their home with open arms and do whatever it took to make sure he was all right. Just as Bifur had watched out for the brothers when they were young, they would watch out for him now. Bofur removed the toy horse from his pocket, running his thumb over the each notch of the carving Bifur had made not too long ago. As Bofur placed the toy horse on a table next to the bed, Bombur spoke. While his voice had held so much resolute determination when he told the doctor they were Bifur's family, his words now sounded soft and sad.

"We're all he's got…"

Bofur placed his hands on his younger brother's shoulders and gave them a tight squeeze of encouragement. They were both scared for their cousin's future, and he knew the only way they could ever get through this would be together.

"I know, lad. I know."