Betta was dozing lightly when a sound from outside the hut roused her. She sat up and saw that Fili was still sitting beside the fire with no alarm for the noise. A large shadow fell upon the oilcloth and, with a flourish, Kili pushed through the seam and stumbled into the shelter. His shoulders were piled high with snow and his cheeks and nose were red from cold.

It had taken more than an hour for Kili to find them. He had had long work pushing through the snow with two stubborn ponies behind him and no help, and now he stood scowling at his brother and stomping his boots to get the feeling back into his numb toes. He had followed Fili's path easily enough, but the path had been long and had gone round-about before finally reaching the trees under the stone.

"And here I find you, brother," he said, crossing his arms. "Are you quite content sipping tea in warmth and comfort? Ought I not go out and fetch you food and feathers for your pillow tonight?"

Fili grinned up at his brother, unashamed. "I did not think that it would be too hard a task for you to rescue us, brother, with your sharp wit and keen sight," he said. "And if you've brought the feather pillows, let's have them! We shall be warm and comfortable this night. Though, I cannot speak for what tomorrow will bring."

Kili tied the two ponies outside with the other, and then shook the snow out of his cloak before hanging it from the frame to dry in the heat of the fire. He had brought more food, including meat, and they added snow to the pot to cook it while they drank the hot, herbal brew that Fili had made. Soon, the whole hut began to smell deliciously of food and drink and good wood-burning.

Kili was glad of it, and glad that no ghosts seemed to have troubled them, but there was no singing or tale-telling tonight. Betta sat apart from him and his brother as she had every night since their setting out. She had not spoken when he arrived, but he had seen in her face that she was glad to see him. Now, she looked thoughtfully into the hot mug that she held in her cold hands, and she appeared cheerful but tired. Kili looked at his brother, sitting next to him, and he was also silent.

As glad as he was to find that no ghosts had troubled these two, the hut was all too peaceful for Kili's comfort. It was hard to believe that Betta and Fili had sat in silence all this time, but he had no other explanation for why they had not come to blows.

"Are you well?" Kili asked Betta finally, when he could no longer contain his curiosity.

"I am only cold," she said, and she smiled. "Your brother is a fine healer with a good bedside manner."

Kili stared at her, and then he stared at his brother. Fili smiled and filled his pipe from the pouch that Kili had brought; he kept his thoughts to himself. There was no point in worrying his brother by saying that Betta had nearly frozen to death before he found her, or that he himself had nearly given up the search for her… and that she would have frozen if he had.

There was no reason to tell Kili of his truce with the woman, either. The words they had shared were their own, and his brother would find out for himself soon enough. It would be a fine joke to watch Kili struggle to pry free what he had missed. But Fili did not know that Kili was keeping a secret of his own, and that not all of his frowns were made of frustration and a sore temper.

.

Fili took the first watch that night, determined to return to their old routine and with luck break the curse that their company had been under since crossing the Lhun. Soon after their meal, Betta lay down again and was fast asleep. She was too tired for nightmares tonight, but Kili sat up a little longer, sitting beside his brother and breaking twigs. He tossed them into the fire with a dark look on his face.

"What are you brooding on now, Kili? You fill the whole hut with your clouds."

"First rainstorms now snowstorms, what next," Kili muttered. First thieves and orcs, now ghosts, he thought, but kept that thought to himself.

"What next," Fili agreed. "We will take our time setting out in the morning, I think. We could all use a bit of rest after today, and we must ride swiftly and as straight as our path will allow. I do not think there will be another storm, but the snow is here to stay. Farther north, there will be hills again. Until then, our path will be little sheltered from the wind."

"And what path is that?" Kili asked. "Where will it lead us?"

"You know that. We look for the tower on Betta's map."

"And you know that that is not what I meant," Kili said. "In any case, we passed by these trees in the storm. How do we know that we won't pass a broken tower, too? What if we have passed it already? We cannot wander blindly in the northern lands."

"Then we make for the bridge," Fili said. He had hoped that his brother's despair would end now that they were all three together again, but it had not. If anything, he seemed even more worried about their future road. "There are other marks on the map that we might find. Do not worry. I have faith in our guide." He said this looking at Betta. Kili looked, too, and then he looked at his brother. He raised an eyebrow, and the shadow over his thoughts passed away.

"This is a change," he said. "It seems that she is not only my woman, eh, brother."

"She is our guide," Fili said, "that is all."

"That is all," Kili agreed, but he winked.

Fili ignored him. He looked at Betta again, and remembered what she had said and what he had promised. "Kili…" he began, and then he hesitated. He could always talk about anything with his brother; but, because he knew that he always could, there were some things which he never had.

"What do you remember of our father?" Fili asked.

Kili looked at him in surprise. "As much… or, I should say as little, as I ever did. He did not leave much for me to remember him by. Why do you ask this now?"

Fili shook his head. "I only thought… of your bow," he said. It was sitting nearby and he did not dare mention Betta's name and suffer any more winks from his brother. "I suppose the howling of the wind in the trees reminded me of it, of why our father gave you your first bow."

Kili winced. He remembered the dog bites more than the bow. "I am surprised that you ever forgot it," he said. "You never let me forget that he gave me a distance weapon and you your first axe. When we came to Ered Luin, Thorin gave me a sword. 'A bow is for hunting, not battle,' he said. That is what I remember."

"But Thorin is proud of your skill with the bow, and he did not teach you to use your sword. He left that to Balin. Our mother never wanted us tangled up in Thorin's battles," Fili added quietly. "Yet she did not take your sword away."

Kili frowned. He had no memory of his mother saying anything about battle or being anything but proud when he had shown her the plain short sword that Thorin had given him. "What do you remember of our father, then?" he asked, but more earnestly.

"I remember that he taught you to shoot and spent many afternoons showing you how to sight your bow and how to cut a shaft that would fly straight. I remember that he said the bow made you behave and taught you to be patient. And I remember that his eyes were dark like yours, but your kindness comes from our mother."

Fili smiled, and Kili could not help but smile, too, though it was tinged with sadness.

"I don't know where you found your willfulness, however," Fili added. "That is all your own."

"Well, I guess that it is our father in you when you refuse to have any fun and are so serious," Kili said. "And also you have his golden hair that the dwarf women of Ered Luin think is so fine. Although he was never as fond of braids as you are."

Fili laughed, but now Kili looked thoughtful. "I did not remember that he taught me to shoot, though I don't know how I could have forgotten it. That is good to remember," he said quietly to himself.

It was good. Fili did not think that it was enough, but it would have to be good enough for tonight. He had too much else to think on, and this was a conversation for when they were back home, safe and warm. It was a conversation that he and his brother should have had long ago.

He sighed. "Go to sleep," he told Kili. "It will be time for your watch soon enough."

"And what of our guide?" Kili asked. "She thinks that she is well enough to take her watch."

Fili shook his head. "She is not," he said. "Let her sleep and wake me instead. I will take the third watch as well."

"You need your sleep, too, brother," Kili told him, but Fili's jaw was set and he would not change his mind. "Split the night in half, then," Kili said. "We will share it this time, but I will be glad when your woman is taking her fair share again."

Fili knew that he had earned his brother's teasing, but he did not rise to the bait.

Kili laughed, and he lay down near the fire. He had forgotten all about ghosts and was soon fast asleep, dreaming of his younger days when he roamed the hills of Dunland with his brother and shot blunt arrows at the trees.

Fili sat awake while the others slept, and he thought on their next day's ride. The snow was a difficulty that he had foreseen, but not enough. They would need to take care with their food and look out for the ponies as well. There would be more danger than snow on the northern plains.