The sun had gone down and the sky was dark. Kili had finally run out of things to say and he sat now, quiet and content, by his brother's side. He had his knife in his hand and was slowly working his way through the thick meat of the now-thawed haunch.

Fili had told twice over the tale of how he had caught each of the small game-animals, but all he would say of the haunch was that he had found it left-over from another animal's kill. Kili said something about wolves, and Fili did not deny it. His brother had little real skill at hunting and although he could shoot a deer and carry it home proudly, he gave little thought to the butchering or how other predators got their food.

Betta, however, knew better. She frowned at Fili's story, knowing that in a hungry land, no wolf would leave a whole leg untouched, and there were no tooth marks upon it. She doubted the truth of what he said but did not question him. She wrapped up each cut of meat as Kili removed it, charred it and then put them away, dividing the weight equally among the three packs, but Fili thought he saw her hesitate over her own bag. If he did not know better, he would have said that she put more of the heavier steaks into that one than either of the other two.

Did she already guess, then? He said nothing but was resolved that, if she were not overfilling her own bag, then he would do it for her while she slept. If she was determined to go north alone, then she would need more food than two stout dwarves marching south.

Kili cut another slice and then threw down his knives. "This is heavy work," he said. "I've got as much off it as I care to cut, but we can easily carry the bones along and boil them to make another feast tomorrow night." He grinned at his brother, but Fili shook his head.

"There's meat still there," he said. "The bones can be carried, but we cannot afford to shirk the cleaning. If you're too tired – which I wonder at, since I've been told that you slept all day when you should have been watching – then I will finish your chores for you tonight. It would not be the first time, but I am glad for something to occupy my thoughts tonight."

He glanced at Betta, but she was staring hard at her pack, frowning and wondering whether she had packed everything that she might need.

"Give us a song, then, Brother," Kili said, rolling out his blanket and laying down with a yawn. He had slept all day, but that did not mean that he would refuse a few more hours before his watch.

"I have none," Fili said, but even as he spoke, he remembered a song that he had heard long ago. Gloin had sung it upon their journey, and he had told Fili that it was a common song for dwarves to sing when they went travelling in the wide world and were separated from their kin.

His eyes on the fire, Fili repeated the few verses that he could remember. His voice was slow and deep, echoing against the stone walls on either side and rolling down onto the snow covered hills.

.

Tired I am, more tired still to be
Long is the way to the mountains for me
Over path and over stone
Long is the way between me and my home

The wild ways are weary
The camp fire is cold
The days dull and dreary
But brave heart be bold!

Hearth and home-fire I long to see
Long has the straw-mattress waited for me
Through the woods and through the field
Long must I roam before heart can be healed

The wild ways are weary
The famine I fear
The night now is near me
But brave heart be bold!

Songs there are sung there, welcome to meet
Long have I listened for notes half as sweet
Under bridge and under tree
Long have I longed in my own home to be

.

"That is a dreary song for a cold night," Kili complained, "but it has put me right to sleep."

"You are not asleep yet," Fili told him.

"That is true, but I would be if I had a straw-mattress to lie upon. Good night, brother, and if you must sing a lullaby, for my sake, next time choose a sweeter one."

And with that, Kili turned on his side and was soon fast asleep and snoring. Fili shook his head at his brother, but he did not begrudge him his rest. The long journey had worn them out, and the full meal made them all sleepy. It was only his own troubled thoughts that kept Fili's eyes propped open.

On the second verse of his song, however, Betta had stood up and left the hollow. He was not offended. He had seen her put her hand before her eyes as she left. She had pretended to wipe away sleep, but he knew that her fingers covered tears and not a yawn.

Satisfied that Kili was sleeping, Fili stood up and quietly followed her. She was not climbing the ridge as he might have expected. There was no mysterious mist, yet she was not willing to risk being cut off from the stone if it should suddenly appear.

She stood a few yards away, looking down at the road but her eyes did not see it. Her arms were crossed, and she seemed very small and alone to him.

"You did not like my song?" he asked, stepping up beside her.

"It was well sung," she said. "You need not be offended on that point."

"On what point, then, might I take offence? You have been over-quiet tonight, and the only way that I know to make you speak is to argue with you, but I am sorely out of practice."

Betta said nothing and they stood in silence again for some time.

The moon was nearly set, for he had sailed all through the day, but the stars shone bright as lanterns, bright enough to cast shadows under the two figures upon the hillside. It would be overcast by morning; already, clouds were racing to veil the silver lights.

Fili broke the silence first. "I learned the song from my cousin Gloin. Although I fear I was forced to alter one line so as not to give my brother another reason to tease. In the original, it is not a straw-mattress that the lonely dwarf is missing, but his lady-love who waits for him at home. It is a sweeter song, but not fit those who are returning to an empty house."

"Your brother tells me that you are in love," Betta said. Her hands shook but her voice was firm.

Fili glanced back over his shoulder toward the hollow where his brother slept, and he sighed. "Did he? Well, my brother is right." He looked at her to see how she would take the news, but she still would not look at him.

"He tells me also that your uncle will not accept your choice, and that he will cast you out from your family."

It was not news to him, but still, hearing it spoken aloud was a blow to his spirit. "He may," Fili agreed. "I hope that I might… that he could be made to understand… but no, that is not his way. He would certainly cut me off and refuse to see me ever again, unless I should one day repent of my crime."

"Crime?" She looked at him with dismay.

He shook his head. "There is no law against the match that I have in mind, but it goes against our traditions and to Thorin it would be as bad as lawbreaking." He waited, but she gave no answer. She was looking away again, thoughtfully.

"For my part, I would gladly give up any inheritance that I might lose in the match," he went on. "I would regret only the loss of my uncle, for I know that Kili would not desert me no matter how low I might fall. Then again, there are many dwarves who never marry, and I do not know whether I would do better to take this chance or that. Perhaps you might advise me?"

She pulled her cloak close about her shoulders. "I do not think that my advice will be welcome," she said, "for I would say that any woman who would willingly take you from your family must not love you very much."

He looked at her with a frown. "That is your answer, then?"

"What other would you have me give?"

He opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated and closed it again. He stood, frowning and staring at his boots for some time, weighing both choices and finding them frustratingly balanced between him. "I do not know," he admitted.

The silence fell again, but louder than before. Betta's heart was pounding in her chest, and in her ears. She was tempted to confess all to him, the pearl and the map, her plan to slip away. But then she would have to admit that her heart did not care whether he had his family or not, only that she had him. She bit her tongue and said nothing.

Fili stood for a moment and then turned to go back into the hollow.

"You are leaving me, then?" she asked.

"If I stay, then I must speak; if I speak, then I must say things which would cause pain to both your heart and mine."

"I mean, you will leave these hills. You intend to return to Ered Luin." She saw him look at her in surprise, and she smiled. "Your eyes confessed the plan almost as soon as you returned to camp. To be honest, I am surprised that you have stayed with me so long as you have."

Fili frowned, but he was glad that he did not need to deliver the news to her. "Yes, I mean to go south again, tomorrow. This quest has proved too dangerous, and the land too pitiless. If it were only my own life, then I would follow your map to Gundabad, or to wherever it may lead, but I have my brother to think of, and I will not set his life against the wrath of Angmar." He lowered his voice to a whisper and said, "There are evil things here that you have not seen."

Fili felt a cold hand grip his heart, and he remembered the despair that he had felt upon the plain. "No, I will lead him no farther. Tomorrow, my brother and I shall go south. I had hoped that you…" but here, his words faltered. He saw in her eyes that she would not be convinced.

"Kili will not want to go," she said softly.

"He will go whether he is willing or not. You think that my stubbornness has been worn all away? I promised our uncle that I would bring him back a treasure out of the north. What greater treasure is there than his two nephews returned to him, safe and whole?

"I can think of nothing that I would want more than that," Betta said. "But will your uncle still take you on his quest to Erebor?"

Fili thought for a moment. "I think that he will," he said, "but if he does not, then I shall have a quest of my own to fulfill. If Thorin will go without us, then my path shall once again lead me north, and it will be a treasure more precious than gold that I seek to find once more." He smiled at her and reached for her hand, but she pulled it away and shook her head.

"No, you won't," she said. "If your uncle refuses to take you to Erebor, then you must follow after him without his permission. There is more honor to be won dogging at his heels than at mine, and I think that he will need you. Your fate lies with him, not with me."

He frowned, but he knew that she was right. If in the morning they parted ways, he knew that he would never see her again. She would die in the cold northern hills. There would be no one to bury her or build her tomb; her shroud would be the falling snow and she would become one more ghost to haunt this land. Fili would go east with Thorin and Kili. Probably, they would all die there, crushed under the foot of a dragon. If they succeeded and he survived, it would only be to die alone on a stone bed, the heirless King of Erebor.

Whatever his final resting place, Fili knew that his first duty was to his brother. This journey was no longer a game or an exciting adventure. It was time to take Kili home.

"If we are to part, then we must say our farewells tonight," he said finally. "Tomorrow, I think there will be no time. Kili will have emotions enough for the both of us, and I may well have to drag him bodily back down the road." He put out his hand. "Good luck to you," he said.

"And more to you," she answered, taking his hand. "I do not envy you your journey, travelling under Kili's angry stare." She pressed his hand, and her smile was genuine.

It was the smile that undid him. Fili bent his head towards her, and she did not pull away. He pressed his lips to hers, and she returned his kiss with earnest, but it was a cold embrace, a farewell and not a welcome. He knew that there was still a part of her that she held back from him, and he did not blame her for it. It was not in her nature to bet all, even on a sure thing; and, when he stepped back from her, he could see the old walls had been rebuilt behind her grey eyes, and he was shut out.

He kissed her cold fingers and then let go of her hand. They returned to the hollow and sat apart from each other with the fire burning between them. Betta lay down with her back to him and slept while he kept his watch and cut up what was left of the meat on the bones. He stowed it all in her bag, along with a few other things that he knew she would need.

He thought of the pearl and, for a moment, even held it in his hand over her bag, determined to drop it inside for her to find after he was far, far away, but he could not let go. At the last moment, he closed his hand upon it and put it back into his pocket. It was wrong to keep what he knew was hers, but he could not give up the sea-jewel. The firelight flashed too brightly over its iridescent surface. It glittered over the tiny flaws under many fine and perfect layers. It felt warm in his hand, heavy and reassuring.

He told himself, as he settled back into his corner, that he kept the pearl as a remembrance of the woman who had given it to him, but he could not silence the harsh whispering doubt in his heart: that he kept it for itself, for its own worth and value.

That voice still whispered hours later as he handed over his watch to Kili. His brother looked at him strangely, and glanced toward their sleeping guide, but he said nothing. Fili lay down, turning his face to the wall. There was nothing more to be said.

I know some of you have been waiting months for this chapter, and I hope that it did not disappoint. Unfortunately, our trio has yet a few more obstacles to endure before they're home free.

Review! Review! Thanks!

-Paint