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Unlike his brother, Fili had given thought to the strange mist when it first arrived. From the start, he had not liked the look of it; it seemed to speak too closely to the conflicts in his mind and heart and had arrived as if to herald his despair upon the empty plain. And then, last night, standing upon the hill which the mist had poisoned with its shadow, he had both found and lost his love.

When Kili told him that Betta had gone and the mist had returned, Fili had felt the icy hand of fate upon his heart. How could he think anything but that the mist was an enemy of his own devising, a manifestation of all his doubts and fears upon the journey, of all that had changed in him since he had left his home? There was a reason Dwarves seldom left their mountain homes, and seldom went in company other than their own kith and kin, but it was his duty to fight this enemy; if he had not told Betta that he meant to go south, she would not have felt the need to escape under the cover of darkness, and the mist would not have swallowed her.

Fili's heart was torn as he entered the mist with his brother close behind him, and it was that chink in his armor that made him easy prey for the malevolent shades that lurked within the shrouding darkness, seeking any weakness through which they might inject their poison. The crack in Kili's guard was obvious, the weakness of his injured body and his reliance on his brother's strength, but Fili's disadvantage was his mind. His thoughts were in revolt, running here and there, uncontrolled, while his eyes were on the trail, going from footprint to footprint in a way that would have hypnotized even a wise man who had seen many such campaigns. So it was that he did not notice when thoughts other than his own began to creep into his head and take root there.

Ever since they had entered the northern hills, there had always been whispers on the wind which Fili ignored, but he had heard Kili and Betta talking quietly of the "voices" as they called them. Fili had closed his ears and refused listen to their superstitious talk. And maybe that was another reason for why the whispers entered so easily into his usually so guarded mind. He knew, but refused to believe, and how do you guard against a weapon that you are determined not to see?

The voices whispered and slowly, slyly, they began to echo the doubts and fears of his own heart, to increase and expand upon those things which already weakened his resolve: he must keep his eyes on the trail or they would lose it. He must hurry to catch up with Betta before something else did.

But Kili is falling behind, Fili's mind protested.

Kili would keep up, the voices answered. They were not walking so fast as that. And, besides, he was just behind him, always right behind him, but they must hurry. Hurry now, or it will be too late.

And so the whispering winds urged him on, speaking in Fili's own voice, taking up pieces of his thoughts and weaving into them their own until he had few thoughts left that were not infected by the shadows.

Watch the path; it is most important. Keep to your feet and your brother will follow. Watch the path, and keep your feet. Faster, faster, or it will be too late. It is the most important thing.

Fili no longer recalled what it was that he was hurrying towards or whose path it was that he followed. His mind was so far gone that he forgot he had a brother at all. What followed him was only the shadow cast by his own torchlight, and that would stay with him no matter how fast he walked.

The hills on either side of him rose up dark over his head. The mist wrapped its arms about him, drawing visions down before his eyes. When he did lift his gaze and looked up from the trail, all was dark and there was a heaviness upon his shoulders. It was so much easier to keep his eyes down, to rest his chin upon his chest and look only at the ground under his feet.

What was this mist to him that he had been so afraid of it before? It was not so dark as he had imagined, and it was so thin, hardly anything there at all. No dwarf would be afraid of a little mist in the early morning hours. And see! How it parts before you, Fili, like the sea before a ship's prow, like the clouds before a strong breeze. Like the crowd falling back and bowing down before a King.

Fili heard a loud cry upon the wind. It flew fast over his head, but he ignored it. What were the ghosts of Men to him, the heir of a Kingdom of Dwarves? He strode forward, holding his torch aloft in his left hand while his right was thrust deep into his pocket, wrapped around the fair sea-jewel. There was power in the secret stone, Fili knew now, just as he knew that it was his. He was the Master of this land.

Betta had known it, too, or why else would she have refused to take back what had been hers when he offered it to her...

Fili's footsteps faltered and he stood still, clinging to that name. Betta. He saw grey eyes and remembered a little bead that had also been in his pocket and was now folded into long, black hair.

The mist about him swirled up in a rage, but it could not come any closer. It stretched out its fingers, trying reach him, but its anger only served to break the fragile dreams that had been woven in Fili's mind. He came back to himself with a start and looked around as if seeing the hills for the first time.

"Kili?" he called, frowning, and his brother's face was before him, his laughing eyes and mischievous grin. "Kili!"

Fili spun around and searched the road for his brother, but he was no longer on the road. Only his own footsteps were behind him. He had walked off of Betta's trail and could not know how long he had wandered, or how far. He stood among the hills, alone.
.

It took far less time for Fili than it had for his brother to realize that he must back trace his steps to find the road again. With luck, he would meet his missing companions. Kili, at least, would have the sense to stay where he was and wait for his brother to return. Or, more likely, he would go on following Betta's steps, find her and they would be even now sitting beside a warm fire, laughing and waiting for him to catch them up.

As Fili trudged back toward the road, he often heard in the distance, voices crying. Once, he felt certain that it was his brother's voice, calling out to him, but though it pained him to do so, he turned his back to the noises. They were false cries and false voices. The lights about him were false as well, their green lantern flames sent to lure him off his path. Only a fool would run after such ghost lamps as those.

The cold wind blew, and Fili pulled tight his cloak. He wished that he had had the sense to stay by the stone and wait for daylight before he went after Betta. What use was he to her, what use was he to his brother, now that he had gotten them all three separated? He might pass by either of one in this fog, near enough to touch, and not see them.

But he marched slowly on, through the mist and the lights and the distant voices. The spirit of evil was not easy to shake, and the ghosts that had dwelt in these hills for many an age had chewed on their discontent for so long, nursing their hatred. They had more tricks up their molded sleeves than a few sleepy whispers.

Fili had walked for what seemed like hours when finally he looked up and saw a light that was different from the green ghost lamps. It was colder and yet more clear than torchlight, and it came towards him through the mist, carried by a familiar shape. Fili stood still and put his hand on the handle of his axe. He waited, warily, willing it to be his brother, but when the light of his own torch finally lit upon the figure; it was not Kili, but someone else who had found him.

"Uncle!" He cried out, in joy and amazement. "Thorin! How came you here so far from Ered Luin?"

There was no mistaking his uncle's grim face and broad shoulders, though Thorin had stopped several feet from his nephew and stood still half-shrouded in mist. Fili had opened his arms and would have run to embrace him, so glad was he to see a familiar face again, but Thorin thrust his torch into the snow at his feet and crossed his arms; he came no closer.

"How came I here?" Thorin said, his words full of anger. "So should I ask my hapless nephews. How came you here? I should have known you would get yourselves lost in the wilderness the moment I took my eyes off you."

Fili had been glad, but now he hung his head, chastised and ashamed. It was strange how easily his uncle's anger could take away all of his long years and turn him back into a shamefaced dwarfling no taller than his uncle's knee.

But he was no dwarfling, Fili reminded himself. He had faced danger and adventure to prove to his uncle that he was no longer a child; and, if he truly meant to convince Thorin of his worth, he could feel as a scolded child, but he must not behave as one.

Fili lifted up his chin. "We were not lost until this night," he said – only partly lying, for how could they have been lost if they had never known exactly where they were going? "I am glad to see you, uncle," he said. "Where are the others? Is Gloin with you? Kili is back there, somewhere in this mist. We must look for him. He will be glad to see you, too."

"I have found your brother," Thorin said. "I know where he is."

"Where? He is not with you." Fili looked around but there was only himself and his uncle.

He knew that he should have felt relief at hearing that his brother was safe, but he did not. There was something strange about his uncle. How had Thorin come to be here, so far from Evendim where the brothers had said they were going? If he had found Kili, then where was he? Not even a chastised Kili would have hung back in the shadows; he would have rushed forward into his brother's arms. Where were the other dwarves that must have been part of Thorin's search party?

"Where is Kili?" Fili asked. He stared hard at his uncle. It certainly seemed to be Thorin who stood before him; his clothes and his bearing matched exactly what Fili would have expected to see.

And perhaps that was what made him wary and think that all was not well. This Thorin was what Fili would have expected to see if he had met his uncle coming down one of the many narrow passages beneath Ered Luin, or riding up the road to the Gates after meeting with the Men of the town. This was not the Thorin Oakenshield who would arrive to rescue his wayward nephews lost in the frigid north.

And, now that he was looking closer, Fili grew even less certain of what his eyes seemed to show him, for this Thorin bore neither weapon nor pack. His face was clean and his hands were bare. There was no sign that he had ridden even half of the many hundreds of leagues from Ered Luin to the mountains of Angmar, over hill and snow-covered vale. Even if all this were nothing and Fili were only agitated by the mist and his troubled thoughts, even if his uncle had arrived grim and angry, annoyed at having to rescue Fili from his own bad choices, the true Thorin would not be so standoffish. He would have embraced his nephew, and then chided him for a fool. He would have been glad first and angry second, not standing at a distance, scowling and impatient.

"You've wandered long enough," Thorin said, taking up his torch again. "Come now, this way."

Without looking back to see if Fili would follow, he began to walk into the mist. Fili did follow him, but only because his uncle was still walking along the trail that he would have followed in any case. He would not have trusted this image of Thorin to lead him off the clear path. He had heard tales of ghosts and false visions that preyed upon unwary travelers in the haunted passes of Hithaeglir and other mountain ranges in the east.

Fili walked after his uncle, but he kept his distance and was thinking now of his brother who this spirit claimed to have found. "Where is Kili?" he asked again. "He was not far behind me. Is your camp nearby, and he is there with the others?"

"I was a fool to think you could look after him," Thorin said. "You have never been fit to lead anyone, not even your unruly brother. With you as my heir, I must never die, for my spirit would not rest under the shame of leaving my kingdom to you."

Fili stopped short in his tracks. His cheeks warmed and he felt himself wounded by the words even though they came from what he felt sure was not his uncle. The words were his own doubts echoed back at him. He had shamed his uncle, and his brother. He was a disgrace for loving a human woman, and a failure for leading his brother into the mountains and losing him there; he had not managed even to find a single gold coin to bring back to his uncle. But these things the true Thorin could not have known, and with much effort Fili told himself that, although Thorin may have doubted the wisdom and experience of his eldest nephew, he had always been proud of his sister-sons. Fili may have disappointed Thorin's highest hopes, but his uncle had never, never been ashamed of him.

He would follow this phantom no longer. "You are not my uncle," he said.

The false Thorin turned to him with a sneer. "And I would that you were not my nephew, but we cannot-"

"You are not Thorin Oakenshield," Fili told him. "What are you? Some spirit of these hills sent to lead me astray? I have shaken off your whispers, and I shall shake your visions as well, but first tell me, where is Kili? What have you done with my brother?" He had lost Betta, his brother, the road and perhaps even his life, but his will was his again and he would not give in to doubt or despair while there was a chance that any member of his company still lived.

The phantom laughed. "Your brother is lost, just as you are lost. Gone forever you are and ever shall be; ever sleeping, never waking. You've failed in your quest, Fili. Your uncle will never take you to Erebor."

"That may be so, but you do not know it. You are a ghost and know nothing beyond these hills. I will find my uncle, and we will return to Ered Luin. We will follow Thorin on his quest. We will go to Erebor and face down the dragon."

"The dragon!" the phantom cried, and the image of Thorin's kindly face was twisted into a malevolent grin. "Why would you seek another dragon? Ha, ha! Are you not satisfied with the one you have already found, the snake in the grass, the sly little worm? Beware your battles of today, for if you lose them, there will be no other." The body that the phantom wore had begun to fade. The moon was rising in the east, and his light fell upon the hillside, soft and silver, driving slowly back the mist.

"What dragon? What other?" Fili demanded. "There is only one. Speak!" he ordered, but the false Thorin had faded away. The laughter still echoed over the hills, a terrible sound, but Fili was left alone and staring into the dark. The mist closed in about him again, but the moon shone and his thoughts were still with him.

He shivered and put his hand into his pocket, reaching for the pearl out of habit, but then he stopped. Fili frowned and slowly took out his hand again. He remembered what he had felt in his madness, that the pearl had a power of its own, and in his dream, it had been something more than a pretty sea-jewel. Why had Betta refused to take it from him when he offered it back to her?

He had always known that she kept her secrets close, and that she had not told him all she knew, but he had convinced himself that at least she would tell them all that they needed to know for their safety.

Slowly, and on his guard for any tricks, Fili took the pearl from his pocket and held it out on the palm of his hand. He looked at it, not for the first time, but for the first time without an eye for its beauty. It lay dull and plain with no light of its own, no power of its own that he could feel now. What was it? Where had it come from? It had belonged to Betta's ancient family and been passed down along the line of her father's people that she claimed to know so little about.

Fili thrust the stone toward the mist and watched the smoke recoil. He drew it back to his chest and the mist returned again, but always it remained a few feet from him.

Was this what the phantom had alluded to and called a Dragon? This stone? This thing that had captured his mind in the same way that the gold-sickness was said to capture the hearts of dwarves in the ancient days? Dragons had the power, so it was said, to lay a curse upon their treasure so that one gold piece might enslave the mind of a man long after the worm itself had died. Had this pearl come from a dragon's hoard? Was that what he had carried all this time?

Fili scowled and plunged the thing back into his pocket. He was tempted to cast it aside, to throw it into the darkness and let it be lost, buried under snow, but he dared not lose the only true talisman he had to defend him from the spirits of the mist. If ever he met Betta again, he would demand his answers from her and, if she refused to give them, then he would know that she had always known the danger she put him in. He had given her his heart, and that could not be undone, but bitterly did he regret it now.

It pained him to think of all the lies she must have sown, all while smiling at him and laughing with his brother, and so he refused to think on it. He may never see her again, and that would be a blessing to them both, but he must find Kili.

With the moon behind him, Fili returned to his path and continued the long walk back to the road. So intent was he on the path before him, as much in a daze of confused thoughts and fears as he had been when the mist had held his mind ensnared, that by the time he heard the first heavy footfall behind him, it was too late. He spun around, drawing his sword, but a great fist struck him and threw him aside. He was stunned, seeing dark spots before his eyes. He felt his limp body lifted up and slung over a great, solid shoulder that was as hard and as bitterly cold as ice.

"Kili," he murmured as he was carried away at great speed. He would never find the path again. The road was lost, and so was his brother.

The rise and fall of each lumbering step, the loll of his head upon his neck and the suffocating smoke were too much for him. He had suffered too much in those few hours that he could struggle no longer, and he fell finally into unconsciousness.

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-Paint