The brothers had been gone nearly half an hour, but when they returned, they found Betta still in her place by the campfire. She had only moved to turn her back to the wall in order to watch both the front entrance to the cave and the mouth of the cavern nearby. As he emerged from the darkness behind his brother, Kili saw that she held her bow in her hand and had just set aside an arrow. Undoubtedly, she was only taking precautions, having heard their footsteps before she saw their faces, but he was still on edge from the strangeness of the cave and his first thought to reach for his sword.
"What did you see?" he asked, looking quickly around, but there was no sign that anything had changed. Theirs were the only tracks in the snow.
She shook her head. "No, not see…" she said. She looked at Fili. He, too, had looked briefly around the cave to assure himself that all was in order, but seeing nothing amiss, he had taken a fresh torch from the fire and walked away without a glance at her.
Betta's eyes followed him as he passed, and her face was sad, but she spoke to Kili in a firm voice. "I heard noises, but since I see you alive, I guess that it was you who made them and that you found no danger."
"We saw no living thing inside the cavern," he assured her. "It is safe enough to give us shelter for the night, and there is a fine cave where you will be much more comfortable. It is far easier to defend than this place."
"There are few places that would not be easier to defend," she muttered and laid her bow aside.
Kili followed her gaze. Her eyes were still on Fili who had gone across the cave and stood beside the mound of old cloth many yards from their camp. Kili knew that there was no hope of convincing his brother to speak with Betta tonight. All that he could do was get them safely into the cavern where they might rest and wait for morning.
He turned to Betta with forced cheer and said, "Can you walk? Give me your arm and I will help you into our new home for tonight. You were right to stack the wood in there, and we will have enough to keep a small fire burning. It is so cold out here!"
He made a shivering sound with his lips as he would if he were trying to cheer a young dwarf child and it earned him a small, if bemused, smile from Betta who shook her head at him. He was glad to see that, although she was unhappy, she was no longer wholly miserable.
Taking up her pack, he slung her bow and quiver over one arm, then offered the other to her. Carefully, he helped her to her feet. Her movements were well-guarded, and he could see the pain in her eyes, but it was not until she took her first step onto her left foot that she gasped and her hand tightened on his arm. He felt her fingers through the thick layers of coat and shirt and, if he were not dressed so warmly, she might have left bruises on his skin.
"Sit down," he said, but she held tight to his arm and would not sit. "Let me ask my brother to…" he began, thinking that two dwarves might at least carry her, but Betta shook her head.
"I am no invalid," she said sharply. "One dwarf for a crutch is already more than I need."
Kili kept to himself what he thought about that, but he agreed to go on. They took one step, and then another. Each time her left foot touched the ground, he saw her face tense and felt her grip on his arm, but she made no other sound. With even more care than he had taken before, he helped her forward, taking the full weight of her on his arm rather than allowing her left foot to stand. As they walked, he glanced over his shoulder at Fili. His brother had turned to watch their progress, and his shoulders were tense, his face a mask of agony as he forced himself to stand firm and not go to help them. Betta's eyes were intent on the cavern, and she did not see that they were watched.
They crossed over the threshold and darkness surrounded them. Kili felt Betta hesitate. Her eyes were not accustomed to the pitch black of the world underground, but he had walked this path before and knew the stone under his feet. He needed no torch.
Kili made his way around the perimeter of the cavern, counting his steps until they came to the cave that he and his brother had chosen. Feeling with his left hand, he found the entrance. "I must set you down here for a moment and go back for the wood," he said, angry with himself for not thinking to build the fire first.
Betta did not answer him, but he felt her movements and guessed that she had nodded. He helped her to sit within the smooth mouth of the cave, and then hurried back for an armload of wood. Even at a distance, he could hear her ragged breath, harsh and quick. He was confused and it took some time before he realized that it was not pain or exertion that troubled her, but fear!
He returned quickly and laid the fire. In the dim light of the flames, he saw relief in her eyes.
"You are afraid of the dark!" he cried in amazement. "You have travelled long in the empty lands. I cannot believe that you have never passed the night without a fire." He fed the flames until they were bright.
"I am not afraid," she insisted. "I do not like it, that is all. And there is always a star to be found in the night, if you know where to look."
Kili had little to say of the stars, so he busied himself with her pack instead. He laid out the best bed that he could with only one blanket and the pack itself for a pillow, and then he helped her to lay comfortably. He could feel the tight muscles in her legs protesting each movement, but he was confident that no bones were broken. Fili would know better, of course, but one look at Betta's face told him that now was not the time to suggest she let his brother look her over.
He pitied her. She had always been determined to do for herself and was as stubborn as any dwarf woman, but Fili's cold shoulder seemed to have taken the spirit out of her, and her injury made it impossible for her to so much as walk without help. Betta's face was pale, her eyes empty and her voice quiet when she answered his questions. He tucked the blanket around her shoulders and wished that his brother would hurry up with the screen for their cave. The space was warming up, but not nearly fast enough.
He left the bow and arrow near her once more and smiled even though Betta was no longer looking at him. He stood up to go. "I must see what is keeping Fili," he said.
"I am keeping him," she answered sadly. "He cannot even look at me because he hates me."
Kili sighed and shook his head. "No, he does not hate you," he assured her. "I think that it would be less painful to him if he did."
"What can I do?" she asked. "It was a mistake. I cannot undo it."
"He is only angry that you did not trust us. And dragons… you must realize by now that the memory of those creatures is painful to us. You know of our history, and our uncle. Thorin..."
But Betta was not listening. She looked up at him. "You are his brother. You know him well. What must I do to make him forgive me?" she asked.
Kili laughed, but not happily, and shook his head again. "That, even I do not know. I have never been able to make Fili do anything." She hung her head and he waited, but she said nothing more, only sat and stared at her hands.
"Will you be safe here while I go retrieve my brother?" he asked her.
She nodded, and Kili told himself that he had done all that he could for her. It was time to see to his brother. He walked to the mouth of the cave and glanced back. He watched as she slowly shrugged her right shoulder, testing the old injury. A pained grimace flashed over her face, and he thought of the last time that he had seen her bend her bow. She had saved his life after nearly crippling her arm in that battle. Could she even use the weapon? Her shoulder was healing, but she still guarded it and the fall would not have helped her there.
Thinking these and other thoughts, Kili left the darkness of the cavern and came out into the open cave. He saw his brother still at work upon the half-frozen mound of moldy cloth. He had made progress and was crouched before a small indent in the pile, working to free a square of wool with his knife.
"We should take what we need and return to Betta," Kili said, approaching him. "I do not like to leave her alone in that unguarded place."
"She has her bow," Fili said, chipping away a frozen bit of leather. "She will guard herself. The entrance is small enough for one woman to defend."
"The fire might defend her, but she has a bow that she cannot bend," he insisted. "The fall hit her harder than I guessed, but she will not admit it."
Fili continued to pull at the frozen cloth.
"She thinks that you hate her," Kili said.
Fili sighed and stopped his struggle. He rested his hands on his knees and shook his head. "I do not," he said. "I cannot," he added more softly.
"You should tell her that. It would give her hope."
A shadow passed over Fili's face, and he returned to his work on the pile, chipping at the cloth with broad and angry strokes. "That, I cannot do, either," he said. "I have no hope left, and it will be easier for her to abandon hers as well."
Kili had no answer to that. Fili went back to work, feeling the weight of his brother's eyes on his back, but he was not yet ready to speak even to Kili of what he felt in his heart. He nodded to the pile of old iron. "We will need rods on which to hang our screen. Is there anything there still of use?"
Kili shook his head but went to search the pile. He found a few brittle rods that still had strength enough for the task they had in mind. Fili had cut loose a few scraps of leather from the pile, and with his knife Kili cut them into thongs and tied the rods together. He worked quickly, his thoughts still on the lonely cave where Betta sat unguarded, and perhaps his brother thought of her, too. Certainly, Fili seemed to be working more swiftly than before, unless it were only that it was growing late and he wished to get in out of the cold.
Once the frame was finished, Kili joined his brother and helped him to pry at the frozen cloth. There was a particularly thick, folded square that Fili had almost freed from the rest and, after the stench of the troll's toilet, Kili found the smell of rotting wool to be a breath of fresh air.
The cloth was extracted from the pile, and Fili carried it to their still-burning campfire. He thawed it as best he could and then unfolded it, hoping that it would do. There was not much of use in the pile and neither dwarf was eager to offer up his own coat. Their blankets were still rolled up in their packs, lost upon some hillside.
The folded wool proved to be a crudely cut cloak. It was stiff and brittle and there were several large tears besides the ones that Fili had made to cut it free. The holes were rimmed with rusty red and spoke to the life and death of its former owner, but the size was more than enough for what they needed. Indeed, the cloak was fashioned greater than man-sized, and as Fili shook it out and contemplated the size of the body that had worn it, his brother cursed in the dwarf tongue and muttered, "Are there giants in these hills as well?" sounding more frustrated than afraid.
"I would not be surprised," Fili said, shaking his head. "This will not help us to escape prying eyes or sniffling noses, but it will hold the heat in. And if Betta is as injured as you say, we may need to have a look at her. It would not do to have her complaining of the cold, if we…" His words trailed off and he frowned, remembering when she had refused to bare her arm in cold weather and why.
Kili was watching his brother with interest, and Fili pushed the memory away. "Help me fasten this to the frame," he said, laying the cloak over the iron rods that Kili had tied together."
The result was a sorry sort of screen that would keep most of the heat from escaping their cave, but it would not hide the fire. There were too many holes and the rods had been too short to make a frame wide enough to cover the whole of the cave's entrance. It was as much as they could do tonight, and Kili lifted it up, expecting his brother to help him carry it into the cavern, but Fili was looking at the stack of tree trunks in the corner.
"We may need more wood…" he said, dropping his hand to the axe at his side, but Kili shook his head. He had had enough.
"No," he said firmly. "You have delayed too long already. We have plenty of wood for tonight's fire and the rest will wait for morning. You may chop up the whole forest tomorrow if you wish, but tonight you will sleep if I have to knock you over the head and drag you into that damned cave myself."
Kili scowled and crossed his arms, daring his brother to argue. Fili stared at him in surprise, and then he laughed. "Alright, brother," he said. "You are right, and I am playing the coward, hiding from our guide. There is no need to threaten me. I will go to my rest."
They gathered the few supplies that were still in the outer cave and then picked up the screen and carried it into the cavern. They left the campfire to burn out. With so much snow and damp, there was no fear of anything catching fire from it. Just before they entered the cavern and the ice roof was blocked from sight, Kili looked up and saw that the snow was falling lighter now, and the wind seemed to have died down. Perhaps, if they were lucky, they might still have a chance to get out of this place.
.
Ix stood outside the ring of huts and stared into the darkness. Behind him, a great fire was burning and his men were telling tales, but he was too restless to sit with them. They had been four days on the hunt but had taken less than they should of the elk and little deer. The herds were wary and skittish, as restless as Ix himself, and he worried. The lines in the smokehouse were hung with large-footed rabbit and thick-haired squirrel, but without the larger game it would be a lean season in their village and they would have to rely on fish from the sea.
Ix frowned as he thought of his wife tearing up her hands scaling fish all through the year. They must have wild, hooved meat.
Orn, a hunter second in skill only to Ix himself, had spotted the herd's trail late that afternoon and they had followed it as far as they could before nightfall, but it wound up into the mountains and east toward the haunted passes where the trolls dwelt. The spirits were strong up there, and many a young and unwary hunter had been lost to their wiles and whispers. The hunters had returned to camp, dispirited and with empty sleds.
Ix looked up at the sky. The clouds were thick tonight, and the moon a mere sliver of his former glory. There had been a storm in the mountains, but though the air was cold and the wind strong enough to pull the skins off several of their huts, the snow had passed them by. It was a strange storm to blow so strong and yet remain small over the hills, and Ix looked at the clouds with distrust.
Tomorrow was the New Moon. It was unusual for their hunt to fall this late in the season. Winter was well underway, but the signs had been read and Elm had delayed and delayed until finally insisting that now was the time, in spite of the dark nights, to find food for their village. Elm's brothers had disagreed – and Ix wondered if they would not soon be proved right – but he trusted the old man and had agreed to lead the hunt. While his brothers stayed behind in their warm snow-huts, Elm had travelled with the hunting party for as long as Ix could remember; the Shaman knew their ways and not a hunter in the village had not at one point or another been sewn up by his hands. None, save Ix, who had never taken a wound that he could not bandage himself.
Ix heard the crunch of snow under boots and smiled without looking to see who had joined him. "You are late," he said. "I have been thinking of you for some time. Did you not hear me?"
"The air is thick with voices," said a tremulous voice at his elbow. "The spirits are restless tonight."
"As am I," Ix said, "as are the herds. They run too quick. Something has frightened them." He heard singing by the fire, and knew that it was near the time for sleep if the men had left off tale telling and turned to song.
"Ah, but the herds do not know fear. They act according to their nature, according to the air and the earth and the season. They feel change, but they do not fear it. What do you feel, Son of Chief?"
Ix looked down at the white-haired, old man. Elm had been a healer from the day he was old enough to hold the medicine basket for his mother, and he had seen only twelve seasons of cold before the visions came to him and he was called Shaman. There was wisdom in those bleary eyes but his hands could still thread the needle. For forty years, Elm had counseled the Chief of their tribe, and he knew, as all others knew, that Ix was not the Chief's son but his sister-son. The old ways cared little for the blunt ends of bloodlines. Ix would be chief, and so he was called Son of Chief.
"I feel a change in the air," Ix said, turning his eyes back to the thick clouds overhead. "The ground is uncertain under my feet. I feel as if the very mountains are awake and watching…"
"And what do they watch, I wonder?" Elm said with a knowing look at the hills.
Ix shook his head. "They do not watch us," he said. "It is a strange feeling, and one that I have never known before. The herds run, but not from us. The sun that rose this morning seemed to shine, but her eyes were upon the hills and she did not look our way."
Elm nodded. "She had other business to attend to, as do you, Son of Chief. Orn is waiting in your hut. There has been too little meat, and he has many words to say."
Ix smiled at the thought of the large man pacing anxiously in the small hut. Orn always had many words to say, much counsel to give to others and too many thoughts in his head. Ix followed Elm into the hut and, just as he expected, the hunter turned impatiently towards them before the flap had fallen over the door. A small bowl of embers sat smoking in the center of the hut waiting to be coaxed into flame. Elm took a handful of woodchips from a pouch at his side and threw them onto the embers, filling the room with a sweet scent. It was not magical, only pleasant, but it reminded Ix of his boyhood when Elm's wife, who was also a holy man, told the young children that the scent drove away bad spirits and bad dreams.
"I looked for you by the fire," Orn said.
"And that is why you did not find me," Ix answered, but he smiled. "I wished to take counsel with myself, but that is done, and now I will hear what others have to say." He sat down on a folded skin, and fed sticks into the embers. The two men sat down also.
Orn shook his head. "We left too late for the hunt," he said, "and the herds have gone elsewhere this season. I do not complain. The signs are the signs, but if we are to find meat, then it is right that we should follow them."
"It has been many years since our people explored the haunted hills."
"We are not afraid," Orn said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "We have only two young lads this season. The other men have hunted here before. We have seen all the ghosts that Angmar has to offer and we are not afraid."
Ix nodded gravely, but in his heart he was glad. He had already made up his mind to go into the mountains, but he would rather lead his party there to hunt as well as to explore.
"What does our Shaman say? You hear the voices of the spirits. Will they be angry with us if we enter their realm?"
Elm sat apart from the two hunters and looked down into the glowing embers that had not yet caught fire from the sticks. He passed his hand through the smoke and shook his head. "The spirits are restless, but this change is not evil. They think not of us but of something new and something old that has returned."
Ix frowned. He was reminded of an older and a darker tale than those that were told by the fire.
"What say you now, Son of Chief," Orn said, though the title was not needed between the two friends. "Are we to shrink away from ghosts? Or will we follow the herds and bring home meat to our children?"
It would take a full day to move the camp, a full day lost from the hunt, but if the herds had indeed moved up into the mountains, then they would have better luck finding their meat there than on the flat plains of the Forodwaith.
Ix nodded. "Tell the men, tomorrow we will pull up our stakes and move our camp into the mountains. Tell them that we follow the trail that Orn discovered and if we find meat there, it is his sharp eyes that shall be praised in our song."
Orn lifted his chin and his face was proud. He nodded to Ix and left the hut, hurrying out to share the news with the other hunters. Orn was well liked and his words would strengthen any quavering hearts among the younger men.
"It is generous to give him honor for the meat we find," Elm said after Orn had left them. He had both of his hands in the smoke of the fire and moved his eyes through it as if he were reading a scroll. "But who will be praised if we find no meat? The land is strange about the old fortress."
Ix frowned at the seer and looked into the sweet smelling smoke, but he saw no visions there. "If there is no meat, there will be no praise," he said. "It is I who lead us, and it is I who will answer to my uncle and our village if we return with empty sleds."
Elm nodded and not long after bid Ix good night. The old Shaman unfolded the skin that he had sat upon, wrapped it about his shoulders and curled up beside the fire. It was tradition for the holy man to share the hut of the Chief or, in this case, the Son of Chief. The Chief of their village had a very large hut with two doors, and both of Elm's brothers slept there. When he was not on the hunt, Elm had his own small hut, for himself and his wife, and it was built next to Ix's home.
Ix waited until he heard the songs of his men fall silent and knew that they, too, had gone to their rest. The camp was silent; the other men were asleep, but Ix lay awake for some time before finally drifting into the strange and confusing shapes of old, familiar dreams.
Look at us, starting this New Year out right with my longest chapter yet!
And can we give a round of applause to DepthsOfMySubconsciousness for reading through the whole story all at once and giving me so many lovely reviews along the way! Try not to hate Fili too much. He really does mean well and Betta is not an easy woman to love.
-Paint