Fili took his time walking up the hill to Betta's ridge. He had been confident in his objections to his brother, and it was easy to speak with Kili alone, but after hearing all that he had to say, the prospect of facing Betta and admitting his objections to her while she looked him in the face with her arms crossed and anger in her eyes had Fili as anxious and fidgeting as his brother. Kili was right and Fili had never before felt that way about any dwarf-woman, but it certainly could not be love. There were few dwarf-women, and fewer dwarf couples for him to observe, but he could not help but feel that no dwarf had ever been so apprehensive in their love as he felt now. Gloin had once said that he knew that he would marry his wife from the moment he laid eyes on her, and Dwalin always spoke as if his marriage to Frei had been inevitable.

But then, how many dwarves might have said the same of a love that had been felt only on one side?

Betta's shadow was no longer visible against dark sky, but he remembered where she stood. Not for the last time, he reminded himself of his true purpose in these cold hills, to win honor and a treasure that he might take back to Thorin. After he and his brother returned to Ered Luin, they would say farewell to their guide, and that would be the end of his troubles.

The ridge was higher than it seemed, and Fili was surprised that she had managed to force her way up through the snow when she was even more tired than he or his brother. His hunger hurried him up the last few steps and he turned round an outcrop of stone. Betta stood at the very edge of a sudden drop and she was peering through the dark down the north side of the hill.

"Carefully, there," he said. "My brother would never forgive me if you fell."

She was startled and turned around suddenly. Her face was wide with a proud smile, but when she saw which brother it was, her smile faltered and she quickly stepped back from the edge. "It is not so steep as it seems by this light," she said. "The worst you would need do is dig me out of a snowbank… but that would be even more trouble than I have already caused you, and so I shall take care."

"Whatever the steepness, I would rather that you did not fall," he said. He stepped up to the edge and looked around. The moon was nearly gone from the sky and there was little light to see by. "What did you hope to see up here?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said.

"If you looked for nothing, then you might have found it more easily down below. There is plenty of nothing nearer to the camp," he said, but he saw that the smile was pulling at her lips again, and he frowned; she so seldom smiled that he thought she must be laughing at him.

"Did you find your nothing, then?" he asked, a little less kindly than before.

"Oh, yes," she said. "There is plenty of nothing here, but there is also something down there." She turned and pointed down the northern slope. "Can you see it? That darker patch of shadow."

He stepped closer to her and looked where she aimed him, but he saw nothing. He would not admit that to her. "Yes, shadows," he said. "What of it?"

"What of it! It is made of trees!" she said, grinning in triumph. "I took my look before the sun left us, and with her last rays, she lit for me a thick patch of trees. Their branches are bare and shivering in the cold, and I saw no animals, but it is a broader wood than we have yet seen up here in the snow-covered north. You might catch us a rabbit, or at least a line of squirrels to best your brother's."

"I might, and I shall," Fili said. He, too, could not help but smile at the prospect of good food again, but when he looked at Betta he remembered what Kili had said, and his joy faltered. He quickly put away his smile. "The meal is cooked and ready to eat. I told my brother to wait for us, but I would not try his patience. His mouth was already watering when I left him."

"I did not think that it was your turn to fetch me tonight," she said. Her eagerness had fallen when Fili's smile had disappeared, and she seemed uncertain again. "I am sorry that you had to make the climb."

"I am not," he assured her. "I am glad to know where there are trees. It gives me hope for tomorrow, and I know that Kili shall sleep easier knowing it, too." He looked down again, hoping to see what she had tried to show him, but the sun had taken the last of her light from the sky and the hills below were all in shadow. Only the starlight and the thin silver moon shone down upon them.

"We should go down," Betta said.

Fili nodded, and she turned to go, but he did not move. He knew without thinking that she would wait for him, and she did.

"Was there something else?" she asked, reaching up to tug at her hair in her nervous habit.

"Yes," he said, but suddenly he found that he did not know what to say. Never before had he been tongue-tied this way. Not even when he and Kili had gotten into trouble as young dwarves and Thorin would shout and scold them had Fili ever been at a loss for explanation, but now when he most needed one, his mouth was dry and he had no words.

He looked down the hill and saw the reflection of the cooking fire glowing against the white snow. Betta followed his gaze.

"Do you hear that?" she asked.

He strained his ears, listening for any sound of danger. The only thing he heard was the whisper of the wind and the distant snap of the twigs from the burning branches below. He was frustrated, first not being able to see the trees she showed him and now missing the sound that she could hear. He looked to Betta for an answer.

She smiled again, but sadly this time. "Do you not hear the fire burning? Sound carries far in these empty hills," she said. "You would think that the snow should dampen it, but it does not. I might even call your brother to us without needing to shout."

For a moment Fili did not understand. When he did, he felt his cheeks flush red as he realized that she would have been able to hear nearly all that he had said to his brother, and certainly she had heard what Kili said, which was the more damning half of their conversation.

"I am sorry," Fili said. He was ashamed and knew how harsh he must have sounded to her ears. "You were not meant to hear…"

Betta held up her hand to stop him. "Then it is I who should apologize," she said. "I did not mean to listen to words not meant for me, but the night was quiet and I could not help myself. I did not hear all you said, but what I heard was enough and you should know that it makes me glad. You are right that I saw what your brother saw, and it troubled me. As much as I told myself that I was mistaken, I could not know for sure until I heard it from your own mouth, but I was too afraid to ask."

"Am I right then, and this is why you refused to let me tend your arm?"

"In part," she admitted, "but the wound is healed and needs no more tending. I would have refused in either case. It is too cold for bare arms."

"I have been careless in my actions towards you, and I am glad that you are not angry with me for what I have done," Fili said, but in his heart he felt only disappointment that she so quickly accepted his account of it.

"I am relieved to find my fears unfounded," Betta told him, "although I admit that I have been torn in my heart. If you did love me, as a dwarf and a prince, I know that I could not have had you, nor you me, and it would be a grief to me that I had caused you pain." She shrugged her uninjured shoulder and added, "Of course, if you had loved me as a Man of my own race and station, and if we succeeded in making it back safe and whole to Ered Luin, then I might say that your uncle would have had a hard battle to keep you. I do not easily give up on what I want, and I have lost too much in my life to let pass so valuable an unlooked-for treasure as I have found in you."

Fili stared at her and, not for the first time, not for the last time, found himself with no words to say.

She laughed and looked away, her cheeks flush red against her white face. "But all that means nothing to you, and I am amazed that you are not laughing at me now. I think that hunger has addled my brain; it makes me babble like a foolish girl. I must remember that though the elves have made a habit of marrying into my race, a dwarf never shall. We should go down and fill our bellies before I speak anymore nonsense."

"Indeed."

Fili could say nothing more. Betta's words confirmed that she had not heard all that had been said below, for Kili had reminded his brother that there were a small number of dwarves that had married with the tall folk. They were shunned by their families and lived apart from both Men and Dwarves until the lesser-lived half of them perished. Then, the dwarf – for it was always the dwarf who outlived his or her spouse – would return and live out their remaining days in grief and shame, looked upon with pity by all who knew their sad story.

It was no future for the heir of the great Thorin Oakenshield. Fili did not correct Betta's assumption. He thought it kinder to let her believe that their match was an impossibility than that she should think that he did not want her.

They started down the hill together. Betta did not hesitate to take Fili's arm when it was offered to her, and he helped her over the steep and slippery slope that lead down to the camp. She was no longer reluctant to be touched by him for in her mind, the matter was settled, and her heart had not yet learned to take up cause against her reason.

When they returned, Kili looked with interest at his brother's hand upon their guide's arm. He saw Betta's pleased expression and Fili's unhappy frown, but he said nothing and handed them over two bowls of watery stew and two thin slices of stale bread. That was all that they would have to eat that night, and for breakfast the same but without the bread. If they wished for food after that, then they must hope that the trees Betta had seen held more than bare branches and snow.