I do not own any of the characters or The Hobbit (just the AU storyline and my OC) Those are the work of the esteemed and brilliant John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, and without his genius, this and many other fan fics would not be in existence.

Yay! An update! Just a reminder to my readers- please don't expect frequent/regular updates until January due to real life craziness (explained in responses below). Thanks to all!

Cirashala placed the peppermint leaves into a pot next to the fireplace to boil, taking care not to add too much water lest the paste become soupy, before her eyes trailed over to the young prince.

Kili appeared to be sleeping, fitful though it was. His head tossed and turned every few minutes, and his eyelids flickered rapidly above his very red cheeks. Beads of sweat still dripped down the sides of his face, and his hair looked for all the world like he had just gotten out of a river, and she frowned.

I gave him the willow bark tea to lower his fever during breakfast, she thought to herself in confusion. Why does he still look so flushed?

The mint began to boil then, and her attention was diverted as she carefully poured the mixture into the mortar and pestle, taking care not to spill. Inwardly she thanked her creator with giving her the ability to be fairly ambidextrous, though her dominant right hand was still stronger than her left, and the entire mixture went into the mortar without incident.

I suppose it comes from being a mother. Goodness knows I've had to use one hand many times.

The young woman's face fell at the thought, fleeting images of her babies floating through her mind. Indeed she had ended up working with one hand on more occasions than one could possibly count, a baby on one hip and her elder daughter's hand, a cooking spoon, grocery bags, or a boiling pot in the other, among many other things.

The two girls were only two and a half years apart, and though they fought as siblings are wont to do, they were best friends all the same. She had passed out right after the long, difficult birth of her second daughter, and so had missed their first meeting, much to her regret. But many a night would come when she would check on the two girls and find them sharing the elder's too small twin bed, snuggled up together with their special blankets and stuffed animals fast asleep. Or they would be conspiring with each other in mischief, pulling antics that would have made her hair turn grey very early on, had it been dark instead of light honey colored.

Those sweet memories she cherished, even as they caused her pain, because that's all she would ever have now- just memories. She didn't even have a photograph of them anymore, for nothing but what she wore on her back made it into Middle-earth with her. Tears gathered in her eyes at the thought, and the flame before her blurred.

A slight moan sounded to her left, and she turned toward the young dwarf, blinking her tears back. As she caught sight of his dark hair, an image suddenly came into her mind- one of two tiny dwarflings asleep on the knees of their uncle, the pair the dwarf equivalent of two and a half years apart as well. One dark, the other light- brothers, best friends, inseparable- until now.

They are not meant to be separated.

She turned toward the minty concoction in front of her, and picked up her pestle. As she ground the soft leaves into a paste with her left hand, holding the mortar between her knees in order to keep it still, she made a silent promise to the young prince.

Her back began to protest, the wounds from Goblin Town burning with each push and sending tears to her eyes, but she set her jaw and dug her knee into the hard wooden floor to distract herself from the pain on her back as best she could. She could only hope that she inherited enough of her mother's astonishingly dwarf like stubbornness to fulfill her promise, because it would take every ounce of strength she had left.

I WILL get him back to his brother alive, even if it kills me.

XXX

Kili felt like his head was in a furnace, even if the rest of him seemed encased in ice. His eyes were emitting heat like the flame of a forge under his eyelids. His chest ached terribly, especially near the breaks, and his shoulder was still very tender from the fall in Goblin Town.

A sweet smell, the same one from earlier, reached his nostrils, and he breathed it in as deeply as he his broken chest would allow. It had a very soothing effect on his lungs, and seemed to give him air where there was little before. It smelled vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

His eyelids cracked open, but everything in the room- or at least it seemed like a room, was still hazy. His mind felt foggy, heavy almost, somewhat like he felt when Thorin had given him a sleeping drought back in Rivendell.

He could just make out Cirashala on the floor next to his bed- was he in a bed? He frowned at her white garment, wondering where his tunic was and how she found a nightgown, when she turned toward him. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask her where they were, but his tongue seemed to be as heavy as his leaden head.

The young dwarf suddenly felt slightly cooler air on him as the blanket he was under was drawn down to expose his torso, and despite the incredible heat emanating from his head, he began to shiver. He tried to move his hands to grab the blanket and pull it back up, but he couldn't seem to move them much at all.

A strange tugging sensation on the top of his clothing caused a slight gasp to escape his lips as he felt the upper part of his chest and his injured shoulder exposed, and he instinctively tried to reach up to cover it but his hand would not comply.

Wh-what is she doing?!

Cirashala's hand dipped into what appeared to be a stone bowl, before coming up, and before his foggy mind could comprehend the action she began to rub the strange smelling stuff on his injured shoulder. His eyes widened in surprise at the odd feel of the paste, which was both warm and tingly cool.

The pain from his shoulder began to lessen after a moment, and the sweet smell began to ease his breathing as well, soothing his pained lungs. He could feel the tension in his shoulder and chest slowly dissipate as she rubbed, along with the pain, which surprised the young dwarf greatly. He soon found his eyes drifting shut as the sensations of her movements began to relax his entire body, the soothing ministrations of her nimble fingers as gentle as the day she set his breaks.

What those strange circular motions she performed on his muscles were, he did not know, but never had he felt something so wonderful or soothing, especially from the rough hands of a dwarf healer.

XXX

Cirashala breathed a sigh of relief as Kili finally fell into a deep sleep, a few contented sighs escaping his lips in the process. His body visibly relaxed under her touch, after initially tensing up, and, given how many knots she'd felt in his muscles, he desperately needed it.

It seems as though massaging the paste in worked, thank goodness, she thought to herself, before glancing down at her left hand. Though my hand is green now.

Something was not quite right, however. Despite the amount of willow bark pinched into the tea being exactly as Meril told her, the young dwarf only seemed to be getting hotter, a stark contrast from the night before. The young woman's brow furrowed in confusion and concern as she stared at the sleeping dwarf prince.

She wiped the remnants of the mint paste off her hands with the rag Meril had given her, before dipping it into the cool water and placing it atop the young dwarf's forehead, hoping it would help. Footsteps sounded behind her, and she could hear the distinct sound of wood banging against wood. The sound of a loud thump and flame crackling reached her ears, and her eyes widened in recognition.

The fire- of course! That's why his fever won't go down. He's too hot right here!

She glanced toward the old woman, who had finished the tunic as best as could be done, and was now working on Cirashala's trousers. Rising to her feet, she bit her lip nervously. Meril had already helped them a great deal, that was for certain, but there must be some reason why she had brought the straw tick out here to the main room, rather than keeping it in the room on the left.

"Um, excuse me, ma'am?" she asked, and the elder looked up from her work. Cirashala gestured toward the sleeping Kili.

"He- my brother- he's, well," she began, and Meril raised an eyebrow. "He's still feverish. I think the fire might be making him too hot."

Meril sighed, returning to the task at hand.

"I cannot put the flame out," she replied. "I need it for cooking. Unless dwarves eat raw things, I would think you would know that." Cirashala flushed, and nodded.

"Aye," she replied, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "I understand. But…is there, maybe, somewhere else he could sleep, at least for now? Maybe in the room you took the bed out of?"

The startled young woman jumped back a little as Meril's head shot up, not expecting the blue orbs to be so fierce.

"He will NOT sleep in there," she spat vehemently. "That room, it…it…."

"It was Gelin's," Freida piped up, the child busy in the corner with her doll and a bowl and spoon. "He died—"

"Freida, far'e*!" Meril snapped, cutting the child off. Freida looked at her grandmother with wide eyes, her mouth instantly shutting with an audible click. Cirashala's eyes widened, and her gaze dropped to the floor.

"I'm so sorry," she replied, her voice sounding small to her ears as her own grief welled up inside her. "I-I didn't know."

XXX

Meril sighed, returning to her task, and glanced up as the young girl moved the quilt completely off her brother, before beginning to soak a rag and bathe his face and lower legs. The old woman could see the deep worry in the blue orbs, and glanced toward the lethargic young dwarf, noting his damp hair and deeply flushed cheeks.

There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that he was highly feverish. She'd always heard that covering up someone who was ill would help them sweat the fever out, but clearly it wasn't working with him for some reason. They couldn't give him more willow bark tea, not for a few hours at least, otherwise the young dwarf may never wake up at all. She didn't know if dwarves were more hardy and capable of handling larger doses of medicine than humans, but she wasn't willing to try it, especially since her store of healing herbs was limited right now.

The healer in her warred with the pain she still felt at Gelin's passing. It had been difficult enough entering his room, the memories assaulting her from the moment her hand rested on the door handle. But she couldn't very well leave the injured dwarf lying on the floor, nor could she give up the bed she and Freida shared for the child's sake. And she most certainly wasn't going to put him in the same bed as Freida and herself, even if there was enough room.

As much as she disliked dwarves, this one had saved Freida's life at risk of his own, and he didn't deserve that indignity. Given his bruises and injuries, it would be extremely painful for him as well. And if he caught infection or became even more ill as a result of it, his life would be on her own hands.

But he is ill, her conscience warring within her. He cannot stay by the fire if that is what is making his fever so high.

She reached for the dwarf's trousers, and began scrubbing vigorously, her inner battle evident in the movements and strength of her arm as it pressed on the filthy, slightly torn fabric. She could see bloodstains near the tears, and remembered the young girl saying that her brother had gotten those bruises protecting her from their fall down the cliffside. He must have sustained some cuts as well, and one glance toward the healing scabs on his knees and shin proved that.

The pair's sacrifice for Freida's sake again entered her mind, and once more she glanced toward Gelin's room. The door seemed to loom ominously toward the old woman, as though taunting her, and a sudden thought entered the old woman's mind, fear rising in her chest.

If it hadn't been for them, I would have lost my Freida too.

Despite her hard life, full of loss, grief and bitterness, Freida was her light, her sunshine and her one source of joy. It was evident to everyone who knew her that the one person who could bring out deeply held emotion in the tough, wizened face was the little girl with golden curls, eyes as blue as the sky, and a dimpled, loving smile.

Freida was everything to the old woman, and the fear of losing her nearly tore Meril's heart in two. Abd the only reason why the child was still alive lay in the bed on the floor, wounded and very ill with fever. A fever…that could be lowered if she could overcome her own fears and prejudices of the past.

The old woman gripped the edge of the washboard as she swallowed heavily, before looking up at the worried young girl. Taking a deep breath, she made her decision.

"Come, child."

XXX

Cirashala looked up in surprise as Meril moved toward the room in question, wondering at the sudden change in countenance. Her eyes followed the wrinkled, aged hand as it reached for the doorknob, the nervous trembling in the limb evident.

"Ma'am, i-it's all right," she said quietly. "You-you don't have to—" Meril cut her off, opening the door.

"You are right," she said quietly, jaw setting in determination. "He needs to be moved, and….this room has sat shut long enough." Cirashala's eyes widened, as did Freida's.

"But Gramma, you said—" Freida began, but Meril cut her off as well.

"Freida, go get the broom," she instructed, before turning toward Cirashala. "The room hasn't been cleaned in a very long time, so if you want to move him in here, you will need to sweep and put fresh sheets on the bed."

Stunned, Cirashala nodded wordlessly. Rising to her feet, she moved toward the door, accepting the broom from the equally surprised child. Stepping into the room, she was surprised and mystified at how such a thick layer of dust managed to accumulate in the room with the window closed.

Meril's footprints from when she had taken the straw tick out, along with the sliding path of the mattress, were evident in the thick coating of dust on the floor. Meril moved toward the window, opening the faded curtain and exposing the room to sunlight. The sharp shift from nearly complete darkness to bright light blinded the young woman for a moment, and a loud sneeze escaped her as the dust stirred up at the motion.

"Ah-choo!" she heaved, lurching forward at the motion as she cried out. Pain shot up her back, and she took a few deep breaths in rapid succession as tears welled up in her eyes. Meril turned toward her, blinking herself as she coughed.

"Freida, go get a tin of water and bring it in here to sprinkle on the floor," she instructed. The child nodded, returning quickly with the cup as Meril turned back toward the window.

Cirashala took in the small, sparsely furnished room as Meril fought with the stubborn glass. The old woman grunted loudly as it finally gave, the old frame opening up with a loud groan. Grabbing a stick lying on the window sill seemingly meant for that purpose, she quickly propped it open, and the breeze from outside began to stir up the dust on the floor.

Freida immediately jumped into action, dipping her fingers in the tin cup and sprinkling water on the floor to help settle the dust. Meril turned toward Cirashala, brushing the dirt away from her face where it had fallen on her as she opened the window.

"I know your hand is broken, but sweep as best as you can," she instructed. "Might want to wash the window and scrub the floor as well after we've moved him in here. Goodness knows it needs it."

The young woman nodded, starting the task as Meril left the room. If this is what it took to get Kili away from the fire, then she would gladly do it.

XXX

Breglin mused on the strange events of the morning as he sat by his still, petting his dog and taking a deep drink of his home brew. The potent alcohol dribbled down his scraggly beard, but he didn't care.

The strange girl who unexpectedly ran into him in the corn field was definitely not of their people. She was also surprisingly short in height, given that she seemed large enough in the chest to be an adult. She looked quite young as well, but looks can be deceiving. Then again, age mattered not to him, not when it came to pretty girls.

She wasn't bad looking at all, though she was obviously a little disheveled. Her teeth were fairly straight and not discolored or missing, from what he could tell, and that was highly unusual, at least amongst his people. Even he was missing four teeth, and given the ache in his jaw, another was headed that way. He didn't know of anyone whose teeth were as white as hers.

Her eyes were especially intriguing, the large blue orbs framed by long lashes, and she was very fair, though her cheeks had obviously been kissed by the sun. His mind wandered toward her legs, visible up to the knee due to the way she tied up that nightgown- usually ladies would cover their legs to their ankles, at least with boots.

Perhaps she's not as innocent as she looks, he thought to himself, a snort escaping him as he smirked.

The only thing that really bothered him was her height. The girl, or woman- whatever she was- merely came up to his chest. Yet if she were fully grown, as her feminine figure claimed to be, that was far shorter than any other grown female in the village- at least a head shorter. And that thought greatly disturbed him.

His mind recalled the stories of the dwarf caravan that had come amongst their people one hundred and five years prior, and the murder and thievery they had engaged in. He never did like those who were different from him, and he especially hated dwarves. They tried to swindle his great great grandfather out of some fine leatherwork, and he would take no offer less than what he felt he deserved.

In Breglin's mind, dwarves were nothing but pathetic and ugly cheats, and innately inferior to humans. Good for nothing more than blacksmithing his horse and cleaning stables, they were. As his mind recalled their big hands, big ears, and ridiculously thick beards- oh how he wanted to just chop the damn things off!- he felt his fist clench by his side and spat venomously at the ground.

Infernal dwarves- rich beyond measure, yet they were so stingy with their gold! Their wild hair reminded him of wooly sheep, and the way they acted- why, they were no better than animals, in his opinion! Incredibly stupid, too, if he recalled correctly. They actually thought they could get away with killing his grandfather's cousin!

He was very much surprised that Meril would even consider allowing dwarves in her home- not after the way they killed her great grandfather over a stolen sheep. She had always hated dwarves as much as he did, and refused to forgive them for his death, or so Breglin thought.

But, regardless of her bizarre change of mind, to have dwarves under the roof of someone in their own village- it was unthinkable. They belonged amongst their own kind, not his people, pure and simple. The old chief had even banned them from the village after Meril's father was killed, and she was fully aware of this restriction.

The girl who ran into him confused him a little. Her ears and hands were actually pretty small, but he had never actually seen a dwarf woman before. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure they existed, at least until now. The dwarf women hadn't dealt in trade with his people, and he supposed the dwarf men must have hidden them away for some reason- a fact that caused him to wonder even more about the dwarf female in Meril's home. If the others were pretty like her, then he might understand why they kept them hidden.

Standing up, he set his flagon down and let out a loud belch. Now that he had satisfied his thirst, it was about time he went over to Meril's and had a little chat with her about her unwanted guests.

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A QUICK NOTE TO READERS/SUE HATERS: Cira's teeth are NOT perfect, especially by today's standards (don't want her considered a sue because of this, nor do I wish to give that impression, but I bet that it would be bound to come up in ME at some point and I'll explain why). Considering the lack of proper dental and orthodontic care in ME, how common wisdom teeth extraction is nowadays due to lack of space in the mouth, and how many teenagers end up in braces at some point (at least here in America), I would bet that realistically most of ME's inhabitants have at least some degree of crooked teeth, possibly even very crooked, and yellowed or even missing teeth is probably pretty common. By contrast, a person who regularly brushed her teeth, had fluoride treatments and sealants as a kid, and got dental cleanings every six months prior to arriving in ME, and has had braces (even if treatment was aborted early- hence why they're not 100% straight) would probably have a very nice set of teeth from a ME inhabitant's perspective. Not perfect at ALL by today's standards, but really nice by ME standards.

Same with her appearance- people in ME don't wear makeup like they do today (obviously), so today's ideals of who is pretty/what is defined as pretty is most definitely based on false beauty because of the common use of makeup (especially with celebrities spending hours a day on appearance and using upteen zillion makeup and hair care products and plastic surgery/eating disorders), not without makeup (for reference, the story picture is with no makeup at all, so that's what Cira would really look like and yes it was deliberate). I would bet that the definition of what is pretty vs what is not would change drastically if everyone in the world went without makeup/had plastic surgery canceled out/without hair styling/products for 24 hours! So that's kind of the point I'm making here- that her appearance is being judged based on a no makeup, no fancy hair care, no dental care world.

So please, PLEASE don't flame me for this. She's not a "Barbie doll", I swear!

Far'e- enough*

*Note to the woodsmen's tongue I used- Tolkien never elaborates on their language, however I personally view the woodsmen's language as being similar to elvish, given that area of Middle-earth also used to have Silvan elves in it before Oropher (Thranduil's father) retreated north toward the end of the Second Age to get away from Sauron and Dol Guldur as he rose in power the first time (Oropher dies in the Battle of the Last Alliance, and Thranduil becomes king). Also, the Silvan elves resided in the vales of the Anduin long before the Edain (men) awoke in Middle-earth, so it's more likely that the humans in this area would have gleaned from the resident elves' language, rather than having entirely their own (I'm not 100% certain of the origin of Freida (however that name is used by the Rohirrim, who were also originally from the upper vales of the Anduin (see Framsburg on the ME map ;), but Meril is an elvish name (Sindarin specifically).

Give that it's been 2,941+ years since then, I would imagine that the tongue has morphed a little bit (this is also consistent with Tolkien's ideology regarding elvish language). There isn't much on Silvan either, so I went with what was available to me- the word far in Sindarin means "enough". However, I added the apostrophe and the e at the end to differentiate it as a result of this morphing. It is, however, made up morphology, for those who are interested in this sort of detail :)*

Ok, long winded author's note is done lol ;P I will be deleting my big author's note from a few chapters ago in a couple days, so if there isn't a notification for the next chapter as a result then just keep an eye out for it- hopefully soon (fingers crossed, no guarantees ;)

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A response to guest reviewer Ri-chan: Well, I'm not fine per se- I've been battling a severe migraine for five days now (a terrible kind of headache) that's put me unable to do chores or tasks around here ;( I'm glad you liked the update- I was a bit worried about it after not having written anything for a month. I hope to update soon as well, but that will greatly depend on real life craziness...

A response to guest reviewer Kaia: Thanks! What did you like about it? I will do so as real life allows :)

A response to guest reviewer Guest: I'm sorry you aren't enjoying the story and think Cira is a Mary Sue. How would you suggest righting it?

A response to guest reviewer Marie: You're welcome- I find it more polite to inform my readers about what's going on, rather than just disappearing for a month at a time :) I will update as real life allows :)

Thanks to all who review, favorite, and follow- your patience is much appreciated! :D :D :D