As the heat from the fire warmed the shelter around her, Betta began to revive. Her cheeks and lips were red again, and she no longer shivered. When he saw her begin to wake, Fili poured some of the melted snow from the pan into a mug and knelt beside her. He lifted her up and put the cup to her lips.

At the touch of cold water, Betta woke suddenly, weak and disoriented, her mind in confusion. The fear of orcs and other attacks returned to her in a panic. In pain and fear, she swung her arm blindly and her fist struck Fili in the face.

It was a weak blow, but it was unexpected, and he stumbled back, touching his jaw in surprise. He supposed that it was fitting repayment for the slap that he had given her while he was trying to wake her, but he was glad that he had kept her knife in his own belt. After he let go of her arms, her first movement was to reach for the sheath at her back, fumbling for the blade that was not there. Fili stood apart and waited for her to come back to herself.

Betta lay gasping, wide-eyed and staring for several moments, but soon her mind returned to her and she sat up with a start, looking around in surprise. She wondered how she had come to be inside a warmly built shelter with a fire crackling beside her when the last thing that she remembered was snow and cold and bitter wind. Lastly, she looked at Fili, and he saw clearly in her eyes that she was more surprised to see him there than anything else thatwas there.

"Where is Kili?" she asked, the first thing she said, and her voice was raw from swallowing cold air. "Why did he not search for me?"

There was worry in her words, but Fili only heard that he was not wanted. He knew that Kili had been more a friend to her and had shown her more kindness on their journey than he had, but Fili had gone out into a storm to search for her and he was as cold and wet and as tired as she was. She might at least have thanked him for his trouble.

"My brother will be glad to hear that you care so much for him," Fili said with a scowl, "but I am afraid that I must disappoint you. Even if Kili did want you, our uncle would never agree to such an unnatural match."

Betta looked up at him, confused and dismayed; she did not like the implications that he was making even in jest. "I ask only because Kili is impulsive and would risk a nighttime search," she said. She stared down at her hands. "You are far more reasonable. You would wait for the light of morning… if you searched for me at all."

Fili frowned. He was not glad that she still thought him heartless, but hadn't he argued for exactly the plan that she said he would?

"Kili would have searched for you," he told her. "And I would have followed to keep him safe. He wanted to go out as soon as he knew you were missing, but I would not let him. I made him stay with the ponies in the shelter that we found. There's no sense in all three of us being lost in the snow." He felt the echo of his words as he repeated the same argument that he had made to Kili only hours ago. Betta said nothing, but still she looked worried.

"My brother is sheltering as best he can half of a mile from this place," Fili assured her. "It is you that we should worry about tonight. Now that you've ruined your bandage, will you let me come near to change it? Or do you mean to strike at me again?"

She looked down at her arm. Fili had removed her coat, but she still wore the shirt from the night before when she had been attacked by the orc, and the blood-stained sleeve of her right arm had been cut nearly through. The fire against her skin burned with a prickling sensation as it strove against the cold numbness in her arm. The hurt from that battle was so sharp that she felt no other pain, not even from the deep wound under the bandage that had been pulled loose. Blood was beginning to soak through the cloth.

Reluctantly, Betta agreed to let him touch her, and Fili returned to her side not caring whether she took a swing at him again. He took her arm firmly and untied the old bandage. He reminded himself to be gentle and that she was no Dwarf, but he had tended too many of Kili's wounds in this way and was not used to being gentle. His brother usually needed a little extra pain to teach him to be less foolish and more careful in the future.

In any case, Dwarf medicine was not gentle. With boiled snow-water and a clean cloth, Fili scraped away the blood and scab, scrubbing until there were tears in Betta's eyes and the raw flesh was pink. Only once did Betta risk a look down at the wound.

Her mother had taught her little of medicine, but she saw that the angry red swelling and fevered heat that had plagued her the night before were fading. Fili squeezed the thick flesh of her upper arm, and the severed edges of her wound gaped open like a toothless mouth exposing the wet, fatty tissue underneath; it was white and mottled like the raw meat of a plucked goose, and laced with bright red that surged up and out of the cut when he pressed hard with his thumbs. A thin stream of blood and clear fluid dripped down her arm.

Betta looked away, her stomach unsettled by the sight and the pain. She was ashamed to show weakness to a Dwarf, but if Fili saw her pale cheeks, he said nothing. He noted the blood, and that it flowed clean and red with no sign of infection or poisoning, and he was satisfied. On a clean cut, he would have sewn the skin together last night, but if there had been any trace of poison on the orc-blade, that would have been the worst thing to do and he had been forced to wait it out. Now, it was too late for stitches. He had to trust her body to knit itself.

He wiped away the blood and tied on a new bandage with herbs underneath that would encourage the wound to heal. He helped her to change her shirt for one that had both its sleeves and was not stained with blood. The hut was growing very warm from the fire, but he knew from his touch that her skin was still too cold.

He went to the low end of their shelter and took up a lump of snow to wash the blood from his hands. "You heal quickly," he said. "Take more care and that arm should be useful again in a few days."

"It was not very useful before," she said quietly.

Fili would have told her that she was wrong, but he did not want to be accused of lying. He found a dry blanket and put it around her shoulders. He had added more snow and put the pot back by the fire. The water was beginning to boil again, but the only food in his pocket was bread and cheese. He searched Betta's bag but found only more bread, dried fruit, and a packet of herb that he did not recognize.

"It makes a tea," she told him. "I found it near Greyflood and knew it, for my mother used to gather it in the wild fields near our farm. She learned the plant from her grandmother who knew much of the old herb lore."

Fili considered the leaf suspiciously; but, with a shrug, he threw some into the hot water. As it brewed, there was a wholesome smell to it, though he would rather she had thought to bring a packet of coffee instead. Since there was no food to cook, hot tea would be good enough for a drink. He began to split up what they had into bowls.

"What about Kili?" she asked again.

"I left him safe."

"You should go back to him. He will grow impatient and come looking for us both."

"I know that he will," Fili said with a smile. He felt badly for teasing her before. The concern she expressed for his brother was genuine. "I left a path clear to follow," he explained. "And the storm is ended. Perhaps after he has trudged through the cold and the wet as I have, he will learn to keep a better eye on his woman…"

Betta looked away, her cheeks flushed red from more than the warmth of the fire. Fili realized what he had said, and he knew how unkind he had been. Until then, it had only been a goad to his brother to call Betta "his" woman, and he had not thought of how the woman herself would feel to hear him speak of her that way.

"You should have stayed with Kili," she said. "He needs more looking after than I do."

"You think so?" He filled a mug with the herb brew and handed it around to her. "You were nearly frozen solid when I found you, hidden so well in the trees. Do you think that you can wrap up in so many blankets that the winter cold will not reach you? What good are you to us as a guide if you freeze to death? Or, perhaps you think that your ghost will be able to tell us which way to go next."

Betta did not answer. Her fingers were cold against the heat of the mug, and the cold in her stomach made her feel ill so that she could not eat the food he gave her. She was tired, more tired than she had ever been before, and her skin felt raw, as if it had been chaffed by rough cloth until even the heat of the fire hurt her. She wanted to protest, to insist that Fili was wrong and that she would not have frozen to death, but how could she be sure?

She remembered gathering sticks and taking the flint stone out from her pack, but she could not remember when she had given up trying to light the fire. Had she given up? Or, had the cold been so deep into her bones by then that she had turned over and fallen asleep without knowing it? The storm was passed now, but how could she be certain that she would have woken in the morning?

Fili saw the dark thoughts written on her face, and he regretted his sharp words and his pride. It was not this woman that he was angry with, but himself for his single-mindedness on the journey. He sighed and wondered what Thorin would think of him, choosing pity over treasure. And she was not even a Dwarf!

"Forgive me," he said. "I am wrong to blame you for what is beyond your control."

She looked at him in amazement, not knowing how to respond to his apology. He fished through his pocket and took out the pearl. "Here," he said, holding it out to her. "This belongs to you."

She looked at the stone and shook her head. "I gave it to you. It is yours," she said, and refused to take it from him.

Fili sighed and put the pearl back into his pocket. "We must call a peace, you and I," he said. "I do not hope that we can be friends, but we must at least learn to be civil to each other. For Kili's sake. He is probably worried sick tonight, knowing that we are alone together. I have no doubt that he believes we will fight, and that he will find us each dead at the other's throat."

"He would not be wrong to worry about that," Betta agreed. She looked at her knife, still hanging from his belt, and then she sighed. "I don't know why, but he makes me feel old. I know that I am young compared to the long years of your folk, and your brother has lived many, many more years in this world than I have, but it is long since I felt as young and careless as Kili."

"You have suffered more in your few years," Fili said. "You have lost more."

"Kili has been lucky," he said, "there is a difference to it. He lives a charmed life, and that is something that you should be glad of. He is fond of you for some reason that I do not understand, and I wonder if his charm has not protected you. More than once on this journey you should have been dead."

"And you."

Fili agreed. "But I worry that one day the charm will wear off, and then he will know that life is not easy. There are many cares in this world."

"But you will guard him as best you can," she said, smiling. "You are always at his side. Perhaps you are the charm that defends him."

Fili knew that she was trying to encourage him, but he was not cheered by the thought. There may come a day when Kili would have to face his troubles alone, and Fili would not be there to protect him. What then?

"Were all your brothers older than you?" he asked.

She nodded. "All but one," she said.

"And that one?"

Her face was grim and sad. "He died, years ago."

"In battle, like your uncles?"

"No," she said. "Not in battle."

They sat in silence for a long time, and when finally Betta spoke, she offered him her hand. "I will accept your truce," she said, "for the sake of your brother."

Fili laughed and shook his head, but he accepted her hand. "For the sake of yours, I will promise to keep a better eye on you from now on," he said, "and to see that you return to your fair Lebennin still in one piece."

"Say rather until we are all back at Ered Luin," she said, "for if we survive long enough to do that, I do not know whether I will wish to take the long road south again."

Fili frowned, but he did not question her on it. He knew that he and his brother did not look forward to a return to the Blue Mountains only to settle down in peace. If they survived this adventure, it was only to go on to another and more dangerous quest in the future.