It was not yet dark, but Fili knew that his company could not go on much longer. There was a time when he would have pushed them further even knowing this, but the journey had changed him. He no longer cared that Kili would not complain and Betta was no dwarf; he knew that they were tired, and so he found a sheltered valley between two hills not far from the road and brought them there before the prow of the sun touched the horizon.
They built the shelter against a low ridge, for the wind had grown bitterly cold as daylight faded; the hills gave them some protection, but it was too cold to camp in the open air. Fili built the frame and Kili helped to spread the oilcloth over it, but the long march had taken its toll and he could no longer hide the pain that he felt. His chest ached when he breathed, and his shoulders were so tight that he could no longer raise his arms above his head. As they made camp, he ordered his muscles to move as they were ordered, but there was no hiding the stiffness from his brother.
Fili had said nothing yet, and Kili hoped that he would continue to say nothing. They would not last long in the wild if every bump and bruise was cause for alarm, but even he worried that these were becoming more than mere bruises.
Once the shelter was built, Kili sat down to rest his back. He watched Betta move about the camp, doing her full share of the work with one arm. The other was kept close to her side, but Kili could see that she was holding it there and that her sling had been worked loose by the taking on and off of her pack. She gave little sign of any pain, but if he watched her face carefully, he could see her wince now and again when her right arm sought to reach out of its own accord and help its mate lift and carry.
They were a comical pair of stubborn, limping fools, Kili thought, and if there were still ghosts watching from the hills, then they were probably too busy laughing to do any real harm tonight.
Fili built the fire inside the shelter under a small vent that let the smoke escape. The space was small so that, as short as the members of the company might be, they were forced to crawl in and out of the narrow entrance and to keep their head and shoulder ducked low if they moved about inside. Mostly, they sat upon their blankets. There would be only enough space for two to lie stretched out upon either side of the fire, so it was just as well that their third member would be outside in the cold keeping watch.
The fire quickly warmed the small room and only a little heat escaped through the seams in the cloth. Soon, they were sighing and slipping out of their cloaks while they ate sparingly of the wolf's meat and bread. There was warmth and warm water in abundance, but little food and less talk. Kili watched his companions as they ate and noticed that, although Betta's eyes were mostly upon the fire, his brother's gaze rested more often upon her. There had been no more fighting that Kili had heard and no chance for them to be together out of his hearing. He had no guess for what the trouble was this time, and no interest in investigating tonight.
After their bowls were put away, Fili examined Betta's injuries as he had done every night and morning for the past week. He washed the old orc-wound which was now nearly healed and beginning to pucker into a raised, red scar. He used cold snow to cool the swelling in her shoulder, but that was not healing so well, if Kili was any judge of the unhappy sounds that his brother made when he saw it. As long as she must walk and carry her pack, that sprain would not heal, but both dwarf and woman knew that she must do both. They could not spare even one arm on the journey.
There was nothing more that Fili could do but tighten the sling and remind Betta to take care. She said nothing in response, only nodded and allowed him to help her on with her shirt and coat again. She moved to the other side of the fire and took up her cloak to mend a tear in the collar. Fili frowned when he saw her using her right hand to hold the cloth, but he did not scold her for it.
Kili watched all this silently, hoping to be ignored. He sat stiffly on the hard ground and moved as little as he could to avoid bending his back, but even that was not enough and a sharp pang through his shoulders caused him to wince. Fili's attention was drawn away from Betta and he remembered that there was yet one more patient to be seen to before he went out to take his watch.
"Like it or not, brother, I must have a look at those bruises," Fili said.
"You have seen them already. They have not changed. What more can be done?"
"I have not seen them, and what can be done is what I offered t do last night and the night before," Fili said, "to tight-wrap your ribs and shoulder so that you cannot always be moving them in your sleep. It will give your muscles a rest and make it easier to carry your pack tomorrow. We are far away from any wolves now, and it is not so cold inside. What other objection can you have?"
Kili frowned and glanced at Betta. She had not complained of her injuries, but he did not want her to see how badly hurt he was and to think him weak. He knew without looking that the bruising would be bad.
Fili saw his brother's glance and said, "Is that what worries you? You are too shy to have your shirt off with a woman here to see it?"
"I am not! What other objection do I need but that even with fire and shelter, it is still too damned cold?" Kili protested, but even as he spoke he felt another pang through his shoulder and under his left arm. He winced, and Fili waited, knowing that the pain would convince his brother when arguments would not.
"Have it your own way, then," Kili said, finally. "Do what you will, but I only agree to stop you from worrying. I will not have it be said that I could not stand the pain of a few of bruises."
"Remember this night the next time that you call me stubborn," Fili answered, and took out what spare cloth he had left that had not been used on Betta's sling.
He helped his brother out of his heavy coat and then to take off the many layers of shirt and shift that he wore underneath to protect against cold weather. Each garment was set aside where it would stay dry and safe from the snow.
Finally, Kili was down to his last shirtsleeves, and Fili helped him off with that as well. After the wolves had attacked, Kili had refused to have more than his coat off, and even last night when they had camped in relative warmth under the stone, he had insisted that the injuries were not severe enough to warrant more than a cursory exam.
Now, with his bruised skin bared, Betta meant to cast only a quick, assessing look at his injuries, but once she saw them, she could not help but stare in dismay. Fili's expression was grim and Kili knew that his brother would blame himself, which was exactly what he had not wanted.
His back was covered with mottled blue and purple bruises, some so dark that they were almost black. The swelling of the worst of them showed that they had gone deep into the bone around his shoulder blades and spine. Like fingers, bruises spread under his arm and around his side, following the line of his ribs until they disappeared into the thick hair on his chest. On his left side were also two round, red welts where his quiver had been crushed against his body by the weight of the wolf. Betta winced to think that he had carried his heavy pack upon those bruises for more than eight hours without a word of complaint.
Where it was not bruised, Kili's skin was pale and goose-pimpled from the cold. He would have been pale in any weather. As a rule, the only color that most dwarves carried upon their skin was in their ruddy faces and work-worn hands – less common was the color upon their forearms, but that was only among dwarves who had worked long outside their mountain homes and had rolled up their sleeves in the forges of the towns of Men. During her travels, Betta had heard rumors that there was one race of dwarves with skin as black as the coal they mined, but she had not met any to confirm it.
Weeks of hard travel and meager rations had begun to drain all three of them of their extra pounds, and there was little fat left on Kili's body to keep him warm. Even inside the shelter, he shivered.
Betta had seen her fair share of naked skin on men of her own race as they sweated in the fields or swam in the streams, and she was surprised to find not much difference between them and the bodies of dwarves, except that the dwarves were shorter and more broad about the hip and shoulder. They grew more hair on their chest and arms, she saw now. Kili was young – even if he was forty years older than Betta – and, like the beard on his chin, the hair that covered the rest of his body would grow thicker and fuller as he grew in years.
Kili was not at all pleased at being stripped to the waist in cold weather, and he was ashamed that he had not been able to suffer through his pain. He knew that his brother would be worried, but it was the anxious pity on Betta's face that brought home the sorry shape that he was in. Kili had never before been injured in any serious fashion and he preferred to forget and ignore his new weakness. Fili's face was a mask that did not show his brother how much the bruises troubled him, but Betta wore her feelings on her face, and Kili did not like it. She had no right to pity him when she had her own injury holding her back.
Fili had begun to lay cloth with cold snow over the worst of his hurts. He sighed and had to admit that the pain was eased, but Betta still stared and frowned at his body.
Kili cleared his throat. The sound startled her from her thoughts, and she raised her eyes to his face. There was no pity there now, only surprise and guilt that she had been caught. Fili looked over, and when she saw him, her cheeks flushed red with shame. Kili was sorry that he had called attention to her. He had to admit that he had done his fair share of staring when her orc-wound had been fresh and bleeding.
He smiled and would have spoken, but she turned away. "I will keep watch while you work," she said, taking her cloak and ducking out of the shelter past Fili. She did not look at either dwarf as she left.
Kili sighed, and then he looked back over his shoulder at his brother and had to laugh at the look of utter confusion on Fili's face; there was concern there, too, but the confusion was the most comical.
"It seems that I am not the only one who is shy," Kili said.
"You should not tease her that way."
"Did I tease?" he asked with feigned innocence. "I said nothing! You were the one who made the first joke. Is it my fault that you are no good at it? Get on with your bandaging, brother, and be glad. Next time it may be you who must sit bare-chested while our guide stares, and you are not so good looking as I am."
Fili shook his head at his brother but began to wrap the cloth. "You should have spoken up sooner," he said. "These bruises go deep into the muscle."
"Why speak up? We have nothing to heal this sort of injury, and I did not want you to worry."
"I will always worry too much about you, little brother," Fili said, putting on a smile, but he did not like the look of his brother's back. Kili was right and there was little that they could do about it here but wait for time to do its work. He took care that the wrappings were not too tight and that the folds lay flat so that they would not become uncomfortable during the night, but he still saw his brother wince at the pressure.
"And I only meant that you should think before you speak, Kili," he said to distract his brother from the pain of his already painful bruises. "I know that it is not easy for you, but this is not the first time that your jokes have made our guide uncomfortable."
"Ouch! Go gently there! I would hope that you cared more for my comfort," Kili said. "You are the only one that I have seen being made uncomfortable here, and it is you who I tease. You have been against Betta all this time because she is not a dwarf, but that is exactly why I enjoy her company."
"How is that?"
"It is no fun to be always stared at by dwarf-women and know that they are not looking at you but at the rich life that they might lead as the wife of Thorin Oakenshield's nephew."
"Take care," Fili said, laughing. "I understand that the women of her race marry more often for money and status without love than do dwarf-women. You do not know what Betta thinks when she stares at you. Certainly, I have never been able to guess what is in her mind, though I have often tried…"
"It is a burden, being the more handsome brother," Kili sighed, "and one that will only grow harder to bear once we have the wealth of Erebor and a kingdom to inherit. I do not wonder that Thorin never married when every would-be wife is counting gold coins behind her eyes. But none of that will trouble your heart. You have never noticed any lass that once made eyes at you. You do not see them fawning over your braids and blond hair. Have you not heard, Thris has already declared that she would marry no other dwarf but Fili?"
Fili shook his head. "Thris is a child, barely fifty years in the world. She will have another fifty to regret her choice, or to change it, before she is ready to marry anyone."
"Perhaps," Kili agreed. "And Betta would be a child if she were a dwarf, but she is not, nor does she look for marriage in the north; I would bet money on it. But I have never seen you blush so often as you have upon this journey, therefore I say that we need more jokes. Our guide laughs often enough, but that is more than I can say for you."
"There is little reason for laughter," Fili said. He did not like the tone of his brother's conversation and sought to change the subject. "You talk of Erebor as if that quest is already over. Think of where we are! We make our journey through a black land and every day that we tarry here is one day closer to Thorin leaving us behind. Which would be worse, I wonder, to miss out on the quest to Erebor completely, or to find upon our return that our uncle has postponed his leaving in order to search for his missing nephews?"
"They are both unhappy prospects, but I prefer to think of Thorin's proud smile when we return to Ered Luin laden with gold and sea-jewels."
Fili could not hide his smile at that. Kili could always find the bright side of a tarnished coin. "Alright," he said, "think on our uncle's smiles if you wish. He has always had more of them to spare for you, little brother."
"Only because he still thinks me a child. But you are very like our uncle, and you hoard your smiles like a dragon hoards his stolen gold. If you are not made to be more free with them, then you shall end up a grumpy, old dwarf like Fror with a sour-faced wife."
Kili looked over his shoulder at his brother. "Betta has noticed it, too," he added, and winked at Fili's red cheeks.
"Now you are being foolish," Fili said. "Head forward, Kili. I must tie this straight or you will sleep with a knot in your back."
But Kili did not put his head forward. He continued to look at his brother, searching his face. "It was good that you told her about Erebor," he said.
"It will only be good, so long as our uncle does not hear of it," Fili answered, his eyes on his work. "You were right to trust her when I did not. Is that what you wish to hear?"
"It is not often that you admit to your mistakes."
"Because I do not often make them." Fili tied the last knot and helped his brother on with his shirts and coat. "There. Does that feel secure?"
"Yes. Very much better," Kili said with obvious relief. "You might have been a healer if your bedside manner were improved. Yet I think that someday you will make a proud dwarf-woman very happy with your gentle hands." He was joking again, of course; Fili's hands had been anything but gentle.
"The dwarf-women will have to wait," Fili said. "I have no intention of taking a wife tonight, and not for many long years to come."