Kili muttered to himself as he stomped up the hill, following Betta's tracks in the snow. His brother was a stubborn dwarf, but the journey was wearing on him more than Kili would have expected.

This was not the first time that they had been away from the mountains for more than a few days. They had many times journeyed up and down the Blue Mountains and even so far as Bree, but always they had travelled through populated lands and had been in the company of other, older dwarves who had looked out for them. There had been little food and less sleep on those journeys, but there had also been the prospect of a hearty meal at the end of it.

Even so, Kili could think of no reason why Fili would behave the way he had these past few days. He had clung to his suspicions of Betta too long and too stubbornly for it to be practical and, even after his heartfelt confessions tonight, Fili had still refused to walk up to the woman and make peace. Could it be what Fili had said, that there was something about the land they were in that was affecting him. Harandir had called it haunted.

"Whatever the reason, the next time he asks, I will refuse to go," Kili muttered to himself. "Let him make his own apologies, for I will not play the messenger any longer."

He had reached the crest of the hill. It was a tall hill, and he could see far down onto the plains. He looked south, back toward the old bridge which was far too far away to be seen. Remembering the crossing and what he had seen there, he felt a shadow pass over his heart. Betta stood a few yards down the hill from him, her back to him and giving no sign that she knew he was there. She had walked far enough to be out of sight of the camp, but not so far that she would risk losing herself in the snow.

She stood, arms crossed against the cold wind with her body turned toward the plains, but when he stepped up beside her, he saw that she was not looking downhill. Her face was raised up to the sky. She was looking at the dim moon and her eyes searched for the few stars that could be seen between shreds of black cloud.

Kili stood beside her, but she said nothing and did not look at him. "I should apologize for my brother's harsh words…" he began.

"Your brother should make his own apologies, if he regrets his words at all," she said. "I do not hold my breath waiting for him for I do not think that he does. But I do not blame you for the things that you brother has said," she assured him, and then she sighed. "And, although he was wrong, he was also right; I do keep secrets from you, from both of you."

"You seem to think I should be surprised by that," he said, smiling.

Betta stared at him, but he only smiled wider and thought that perhaps his brother was right and the two of them were more alike than they were different.

Kili smiled and eventually, inevitably, Betta gave in and returned his smile. "Why can your brother not be as forthright as you, Kili," she said. "He would earn more friends if he learned to smile the way that you do."

"He might earn more," Kili agreed, "but they would not be better nor more loyal than the ones he has earned through his actions, and those friends he has in plenty. When you have earned a smile from Fili, then you will know the worth of it."

"Perhaps," she said, unconvinced, "but he is not in a smiling mood tonight."

"Nor am I, though it may seem otherwise," Kili told her. "It is a strange night, and there are whispers on the wind." He did indeed hear whispers, but he closed his ears to them and thought instead on what his brother had told him.

"Fili thinks that you do not like him," he said.

"He is after gold and adventure. Those things he will have in abundance if our journey is successful. And if we are successful, then he will have much more of my liking when we finally part. What does it matter to him now whether I like him or not?"

Kili frowned. "He is not only after gold," he said. "And he is not only after the goal which he keeps secret from you. You misunderstand my brother. He is stubborn and strong minded, and it is in his nature to lead others, but like our uncle, Fili has no desire to lead the unwilling. I wonder if that is not why you so easily find your way under his skin. He believes that you follow him unwillingly."

"I did once," she admitted. "But now… I suppose that I would be more willing to follow your brother if I knew to what place he led us, for I know that his goal is not on my map. But that is a secret that he will not share, and I do not ask it of you. I always keep my word. I did not lie when I said that I will leave your brother to his secrets so long as he leaves me to mine."

Betta shook her head. "You have spoken like a true brother," she told him, "but Fili and I are doomed to argue. That will never change unless the world does."

She turned her face away, but not before Kili saw in her eyes the same stubbornness and regret that he had seen on his brother's face. "That I cannot speak to," he said, "but for now, I believe that Fili has no more desire to dig up old secrets than you do. If you return to camp, he will start no more arguments tonight."

Betta nodded, but made no move to return just then. Kili was satisfied to wait. He had more on his mind than his brother's bickering. The ominous clouds overhead reminded him of the tattered black shapes that he had seen skirting over the snow on the night of the storm so few days ago.

"Since we are speaking of secrets tonight," he said, "I would tell you something that I have kept from you. But it is my own secret to tell, and not my brother's."

Betta turned back to him with interest.

"Three days ago, you asked me what it was that I saw when we had crossed over the bridge and I looked back. To answer you, I must tell you what I saw five nights ago when you and my brother were lost in the snow and I was left alone to guard the ponies."

"I was reluctant to speak of this until now, and I had nearly convinced myself that I did not see it… until we crossed the bridge. Now that we have come to this haunted land, I wonder if it would not have been better for me to speak sooner. As much as I would like to confide in my brother, Fili is not a superstitious dwarf. But you… you said once that you camped in the ruins of Tharbad. Even among the dwarves there are stories of that place though we seldom cross the river there."

Betta shivered and pulled her cloak tighter about her shoulders. "There are stories in Gondor as well," she said, "but I guess that even dwarves would be reluctant to speak of such things unless they were warm and safe under their mountain. I spent two nights upon a broken bridge, gathering my courage to make the crossing, and two nights is more than most can claim but it was not courage that kept me there.

"In daylight, those ruins are strange and full of whispering noise, but at night mist crawls through the flooded streets and every stair descends into shadow, and then…" She shook her head to shake the memories away. "No, I will not speak of that here."

Kili frowned and looked down at his boots. "You need not," he said. "I do not want to hear it, but I must tell you what I saw five nights ago."

And so he told her of the howling of the wind that was too much like the crying of a voice. He described the ghostly shadows that he had seen flying from Evendim into the northern lands where they now stood, and finally he told her of the shape that he had seen perched upon the banister of the old bridge after they had crossed it. A shadow had hung there like a tattered cloak billowing in the wind but there had been no man or support beneath to hold it up. Like a flag of death, it had seemed to him then.

Kili told his tale and fell silent, expecting Betta to laugh at him, or at least to tell him that he was a fool to let his eyes play such tricks on him in the storm or at the bridge, but she did neither of those things. She listened to what he said without interrupting and afterwards looked out from their hillside thoughtfully.

"I might also say," Kili added, "although it is not something that I have seen, to me this land feels haunted. When I have sat up on watch while you and my brother sleep, I have felt eyes upon me, but when I turn, there is nothing. The Ranger was right, I think, and there is sorcery lingering here. Yet I do not say, as he did, that we should abandon our purpose. No, I do not say that, but we must take care as we go farther north."

"That we certainly must do," she agreed.

He nodded, and then he looked up at her in surprise. "Do you believe what I say, then? You need not lie to me if you do not. I would rather you told the truth. All I ask is that you do not tell my brother what I have told you. Fili does not believe in ghosts."

"Neither do I believe in them," Betta said. "The ghosts of Men are taken into the West; as are, I have heard, the spirits of Dwarves."

"That is what our stories tell us."

"But I do not disbelieve in haunted things," she went on. "I have seen much that is strange on my long walk over Middle-earth. I have seen what others would call the ghosts of men, but there are things in this world that have no name and that no man has seen. I do not pass judgment upon them, but I do hope that they will pass us by."

"And you believe that I did see something," he said. Relief coursed through him. He had worried for days that he would be thought mad if he told anyone what he thought he had seen.

"I believe that you saw something," she assured him. "And so do I now." She pointed down the hill toward a patch of flat land in the south. "But those are not the ghosts of men or dwarves. The spirits of the dead do not run on four legs."

Kili had been searching Betta's face, but now he turned and looked where she pointed, shielding his eyes from the green moonlight. Perhaps two miles from the hill where they stood, he saw shapes running across the ground, dark and small in the distance but coming swiftly near.

"Wolves," she said. "At least a dozen. Probably more if there is a pack, but they move to fast to count."

"I do not need to count them to know that there are more than we can defend against, camped where we are and with three ponies to guard." Kili frowned as he watched one of the wolves stop and turn. It looked up as if it saw them, and then it howled. When it ran on it turned its course northwards and the rest of the pack followed.

"Look! They have our scent. They are following our tracks and coming straight for us! There is no cover in these hills."

"Certainly there is no cover here where we stand," Betta agreed. "I think that we had best get back to the camp and warn your brother." She said this, but she made no move to go. She looked down at the wolves and frowned. There was something in the way they ran that did not seem right to her.

"They do not move like any animal that I have seen before," she said.

"Whatever their breed, their teeth will be sharp upon our necks," Kili said. "We must go!" He took hold of her coat and pulled her down the hill after him, stumbling through the snow.
.

At the bottom of the hill, Fili sat and sulked beside the dying embers of the fire. He held Betta's pearl in his hand and rolled it between his fingers, but he was not looking at it. His thoughts were dark and shapeless, and he felt the same eyes upon the back of his neck that he had felt every night since they had crossed the bridge, boring holes through his skull like a hot, iron bit.

There was nothing there, he told himself, and so he did not turn to look. He did not see the shape that separated itself from the dark shadows upon the hillside just beyond the circle of their camp. A great, shaggy wolf with gleaming eyes and moonlight reflecting off of its long, sharp fangs crouched down and made ready to spring upon the unsuspecting dwarf...

Yay! A new chapter! I'm about as excited as you guys, 'cause this one almost didn't happen ;-). Are you tormented by the suspense or yawningly bored because you know... you just KNOW I wouldn't kill off a main character (...or would I?).

Let's see some love in those reviews :-D That's what keeps me on the edge of my seat!

-Paint