Kili stood upon the open hillside, staring around him in amazement and with growing unease. He and his brother were free; they had left the suffocating tunnels behind them, but they were not yet safe. The sun was shining and the fresh air was cold and clean in their lungs, but they had come out on the wrong side. The afternoon sun descended in the west upon their left-hand and the mountains were behind them.

Kili looked back over his shoulder at the steep cliffs rising above his head – there was no going back that way. He looked forward again, north across the endless, flat plains of the Forodwaith. It was like no land that he had ever seen before and the great, wide emptiness of it smote his heart.

All was white in that winter wasteland, faded to a dingy gray. There was no sign of life upon the empty plain; no wild beasts roaming or snow-birds flying. Tipping toward the horizon, even the yellow sun seemed pale on that hillside, and its rays painted dark shadows upon the snow, marking the hills in sharp contrast like the rippling waves upon a great, white frozen sea. But there was no water to be found there unless it were in the frozen droplets of snowflakes and bitter ice. The hills were not hills but windblown drifts; the valleys were filled with snow. The air, as chill as it had been when the company journeyed upon the other side of the mountains, was now ten times colder than the coldest night that they had passed upon the road. Where the brothers stood, they had no protection from the deadly winds that raced across the plain. Here was where they would miss most the oilcloth shelter that they had brought with them from Ered Luin and lost when the troll attacked.

As Kili stared into the north and struggled against the emptiness that sought to fill his mind, a gust of sudden wind rose up from the foot of the mountain. Sped on by the open plains in the east, it struck him full in the face and threw him back against the wall. He gasped for breath, shocked back to himself by the icy breath of the land. Fili stood beside him, leaning against the bricks that blocked up the entrance to the old King's Cavern. His shoulders sagged heavily under a great weight and he sank to his knees in the snow.

"So, this is how we will die," Fili murmured. His eyes were empty as they looked out upon the desolation of the Forodwaith.

Kili turned his back to the wasteland and took hold of his brother's shoulders. "We are not dead yet," he said, pulling Fili to his feet and staring him in the eye, "not while we have yet two legs to walk upon." He forced a smile to his lips and good cheer into his voice as he added, "We will not give up now, brother. We have beaten the mountain and killed the orcs, found our treasure… What good is any of it if we cannot return to Ered Luin and brag to stodgy old Fror over a pint of ale?"

Fili smiled and shook his head sadly at his brother. "What good is any of it?" he echoed, but he remained still standing when Kili let go.

They began to look around for some shelter, some place where they might be protected from the wind while they gathered their thoughts and chose their next course. All around were the scattered stones of the hills, cast down from the mountaintop, but most were small or broken in pieces. Some distance west of where they stood, Kili finally spotted a cluster of boulders half buried under snow, but he thought they might give some shelter to two cold and lonely dwarves.

"That way," he said, taking his brother's arm.

The snow was deep and Kili went first, breaking a path for his brother to follow. By the time they reached the boulders, they were both breathing hard, and it was a struggle to clamber up and around and down behind the largest but, true to Kili's indomitable luck, they found a small pocket of sheltered ground beneath the lee of the easternmost boulder. There, the snow was not so deep and they were out of reach of the wind.

Kili set his brother down beneath the stone and laid their packs in front of them for a wall. It was as close a shelter as he could contrive to hold in their heat while they rested.

Fili was slumped down against the boulder, holding his arm close and moaning quietly to himself. His injury had grown worse that Kili had imagined, and the fumes from the cavern had sickened him almost beyond healing. Kili missed those days when he could rely on his brother's stubborn-headed resolve to drive them over any obstacle, but now was not the time to wallow in his miserable state. Fili needed him, and it was Kili's turn to be the leader of their company.

He took hold of Fili's arm and rolled up the sleeve. It was too cold by far for bare skin, but he must have a look.

The long laceration had crusted over again, this time with thick, black scabs that stank of the cavern fumes and oozed yellow fluid when Kili pressed them. The redness that had been worrying before had spread and now stained Fili's whole arm from wrist to elbow, but with the close cavern behind them, Kili was certain that his brother would recover, if only he could keep his spirits strong… and if they were not killed by the cold.

With a gentle hand, Kili cleaned the wound again and wrapped it up well, then he poked and prodded at his brother until Fili agreed to eat and to drink a little of their water. They had filled their skins in Magha's cave but with no fire to melt the snow, they would have a limited supply.

"Well," Kili sighed as he swallowed his own bite of lichen, "we have no wood to burn, and so the only heat that we shall have is what we make for ourselves. I hope that we may find trees and better shelter, but for now we must keep moving, or stay here and die."

"I think it likely that we shall die in either case," Fili said. "I have no strength left to decide. I will follow you, brother, if you are determined to go on. At least we should die together."

"We will not die," Kili said, but he was only half sure of it. He knew that their situation was hopeless, but despair was ever slow to creep into his stout heart.

If the Naug had known that the tunnel was still open, then perhaps that meant that they came sometimes to this place, Kili reasoned. There must be a way through the mountains from the south, a pass or path that they might follow back into the shelter of the hills. If there was a way, then he was determined to find it; he knew that they would not survive long openly on the Forodwaith as lightly as they were supplied. Their food might have lasted them several days of travel underground, but two hungry dwarves would burn through it in half the time climbing over hills and pushing through heavy snow.

The brothers finished their meal and rested for a few minutes longer, but they each knew that every moment spent out in the cold would sap their strength and shorten their lives. They soon made ready to go on again.

Kili bundled up his brother, taking care not to jar his arm. He tied the blanket from Fili's bedroll about his shoulders so that it hung under his cloak, and then put on every hood and scarf his brother had. He repeated the same process for himself with his own things and wished that they had carried more warm clothes with them, but they had not anticipated so cold a journey. Their handkerchiefs were still tied over their faces, and the rope that they had unfastened before leaving the cavern was taken out again and retied about their waists. Kili left a longer length between them, but made sure that the knots were tight. They had learned early on how suddenly a storm might come down on them, separating them with blinding snow.

The two dwarves put on their packs, which were heavy enough, but they would have gladly born ten times the weight that they had if it had been in good, dry wood or sacks of coal for a fire.

While they rested, they had decided that they would go west, on and on as far as they could for as long as they could. There was no way to know where along the mountain range they sat, how far to the east they might have come, but to go farther east from where they were would be to end up at Carn Dum or upon Gundabad, the orc stronghold; even if they made it past those two terrible places, they would only find themselves lost among the Ered Mithrin and in the wastes where the dragons bred. West it was; that way, at least, they might find a southern pass or reach the end of the mountains and from there go about through lower hills, entering Eriador from the north above the Blue Mountains.

Having done all that they could do to protect themselves from the cold, Kili clapped his brother on the back and Fili nodded to him, his face grim. They braced themselves and stepped out from behind the sheltering stones. The wind struck at them again, but Kili's heart did not quail. He walked forward and Fili followed as they set off into the snow.

.

They made it only three miles that day before the sun began to set. Not even the terrible snowstorm above Emyn Uial had prepared the dwarves for the bitter cold of the Forodwaith. With neither tree nor hill to break the wind, Fili and Kili suffered through gusts that blew faster than a speeding horse cart and struck harder than a swinging hammer. The wind might have carried both brothers off their feet more than once if their boots had not been buried so deep in the snow.

It was as if they had crossed some unseen barrier between the north and the south when they had passed beneath the Angmar range. Like a wall it had been, separating the warmer lands from the cold, but crossing it, the temperature dropped twenty degrees if it dropped a one. The breath from their lips froze in their beards until Kili's hair was as blond as his brother's and the braids that hung from Fili's chin rang together like the icy moustache of a snow-troll. With every step, shooting pain rose up through their legs from their frozen feet, and they were reluctant even to lift their arms to wipe the frost from their eyes. It only served to open new paths for the wind to slip through the threadbare seams of their coats and set their bodies shivering.

The brothers trudged on. The cold had numbed Fili's injured arm and made it easy to forget the pain that he had felt in the cavern, but his weakness was growing and it spread down through his body. It grew harder and harder to lift his heavy feet, to take each step and the one that came after. In places where stones had gathered, the snow was drifted higher than his knees and it was not always possible for them to climb around them. They walked a narrow path upon the knees of the mountains; one slip, and they would go tumbling down the long slope to the flat plains below.

Fili clenched his jaw and stared hard at his brother's back. The strong muscles of his back and thighs burned from the effort of pushing through the snow, and he could only imagine how much harder it was for Kili who was first in their line, breaking the path for his brother to follow.

The sun began to fall toward the horizon, and Fili began to stumble and fall as well. Each time, he struggled to his feet and hurried on before the length of rope drew tight enough to alert his brother, but it was only a matter of time. It was a small bit of luck that north of the mountains, the brothers could look forward to the true horizon rather than a high ridge of western hills. They had an extra hour of daylight in which to march that would otherwise have been spent beneath the cold shadow of the mountains.

"There!" Kili called suddenly, pointing ahead. "There is a crack there in the wall. We might find shelter for the night." He looked back over his shoulder, but Fili's eyes were focused on the ground beneath his feet. His mind was on his labor and he did not look up or answer.

Kili sighed and shook his head, then turned back to the narrow gap that he had seen. He knew that Fili would follow and that it was most important that they find shelter. The plains would only grow colder once the sun disappeared.

The crack was indeed a crack in every sense of the word. It was a narrow fissure, cut straight back into the stone just deep enough for two dwarves to lie down side by side. Kili squeezed his brother in first and then climbed in after him. Even a dwarf had to duck down to enter that place, and it was so shallow and straight that there was no hiding from the wind.

Kili settled his brother at the back then went out again and gathered snow together with his frozen fingers, packing it into bricks and stacking them together like a wall with only a small opening along the threshold to let the cold escape. The wall was not as strong as he would have liked it to be, but it kept out the wind, kept in their heat and would hide them from searching enemies… not that they had any enemies up here, certainly not the sort that searched with eyes and ears. If their luck held, Kili thought, they might just survive the night.

He crawled back to his brother's side. They had no wood and their food was half-frozen, but they had hung their skins close to their bodies and, though it was cold, the water had not yet turned to ice.

Against the growing darkness of the cave, Kili lit the lamp that Magha had given them. The little flame raised his spirits, but it was too small to warm their bodies and not strong enough to heat even a mouthful of water in their mug. It took all Kili's skill to convince Fili to eat and then, with his own belly grumbling, he drew the blankets over their heads and they huddled together like the wintering animals of the woods in their cave and shared each other's heat.

For a long time, they lay without speaking. Neither brother could sleep; their shivering kept them awake. Kili could hear his brother groaning in his fever, and the chattering of his teeth was as loud in his ears as the great grinding machines down in the mines. He held tight to Fili, afraid for his brother and for what may well have been the first time in his life. He could feel the numbness creeping up from his fingers and toes up toward his heart, and he wondered whether tonight would be the night that he fell asleep and did not wake up.

"Some adventure this has turned out to be," Kili said when the silence became too much to bear. He had to clench his jaw to stop his teeth from rattling. "When next I see Thorin, I do not care what he says. I will go to Erebor alone with nothing but the sword on my back, and I think that it will seem a pleasant walk compared to these past few weeks."

There was a long, tense silence as he waited for his brother to answer.

"It has been more than a few weeks," Fili said, his voice hardly more than a whisper. "It seems like many months to me since we set out from Ered Luin…"

"I wonder how long it has been," Kili mused. "In the mountains, I lost count. I think that it was only three weeks before we went underground, but we must have been under there for a fourth or even into the fifth week of this journey." He tried to count the days, but his head was too cold and his thoughts drifted aside. "In any case, I am sure that Thorin is worried about us by now."

"I am worried about us, Kili. If every Dwarf in the Blue Mountains were sent out to look, they would not find us here, nor would they even think to search so far into the north. If we are to survive, then we must manage for ourselves… if we can…"

"We will manage," Kili insisted. The way that they lay, squeezed together between two walls, his face was pressed against Fili's shoulder and buried in his brother's unwashed hair. He blew out his breath. "Though, I dare say, I have known you to smell better, brother. I hope that I will not suffocate in my sleep, breathing in the stink off of you."

To his surprise, Fili laughed, weakly, but it was laughter nonetheless. "You are no basket of roses yourself, Kili," he said. "I only wish…" And he sighed.

Kili swallowed the lump in his throat. "I miss her, too," he whispered, "but we both are here together. Go to sleep, Fili. The old dwarves say that you should not fall asleep in cold weather, but I am too tired to care. If our spirits are meant to find the Western lands tonight, then at least we shall be warmer there."

They said no more that night. Both brothers closed their eyes and slept without dreaming wrapped in each other's arms. The wind shrieked outside their cave, battering against the snow and stone walls, but inside all was quiet and calm.

.

The cold did not take the brothers that night. It was not yet their time. Kili woke first, stiff and sore to the blue light of morning glowing through the wall of snow that had saved their lives. It took a great deal of rubbing and chaffing to restore the feeling to his numb hands and feet, and then he shook his brother awake and dealt with Fili's cold limbs the same way. The wind whistled cheerfully outside their cave while the brothers feasted on lichen loaves and drank a mouthful of cold water each. They took up their packs, broke down the wall and set out once more for the west.

The day dawned bright and clear without a cloud in the pale, blue sky. Kili was cold and his body ached, but his mind, at least, was rested and his hopes renewed by the seemingly warmer day. Fili, too, felt stronger than before. If there was any blessing to the cold air, it was that it cleaned the fumes from their lungs and from his wounded arm. He was still weaker than he would have liked, but his brother's confidence raised his hopes, and he began to think that they might even live long enough to see their mountain home again.

With the sun behind them and not yet high in the sky, the snow was less dazzling to his eyes, and Kili was able to keep a better watch on the mountains. The hills seemed already lower than before, their shoulders not so steep and their heads no longer crowned by rocky crags. Though the slope of the hill was still treacherous, there were fewer fallen boulders blocking their path, fewer opportunities for shelter but a better chance of finding any stunted trees that might be hiding among the ravines. Maybe, Kili thought, they would find a pass to take them south sooner than he planned.

And so, he watched the hills and Fili watched his feet, struggling forward as his strength failed. They made good time that morning, but by midday his steps had begun to falter once more. There was no pass, and even if they found a way between the first row of hills, their chances of finding a path that wound clear through to Eriador was slim. They ate their afternoon meal in the open, seated in a nest of snow with their foreheads pressed together and their shoulders bent against the blowing wind, and then they went on again. They had not spoken a word to each other since morning.

The afternoon was drawing on toward evening when Kili found himself wondering whether he and his brother could survive another night without fire. His own body was growing stubborn, ignoring his orders to move forward. He was growing sleepy and was just about to suggest that they stop early and try to build a shelter out of snow-bricks when he spotted a hopeful sign. Half a mile ahead of them there seemed to be a gap in the wall of the hills. Two great shoulders of snow-covered stone bent together but did not meet. A darker shadow between them seemed to be a pass that had not yet been filled in by the winter storms.

Kili hurried on, eager to confirm whether his eyes spoke true, but Fili could not go so fast. He had spent the last of his strength and as soon as the rope drew tight about his waist, pulling him forward, he stumbled and he fell, sinking into the snow and unable to rise up again.

Kili felt the tug on his rope and turned. "Fili!" He hurried back to his brother. "We have only a little farther to go. See, that is the way, I think."

But Fili shook his head. "Go and have a look, Kili," he said. "I am too tired. I will wait here for you…" His hands fumbled at his waist, but his fingers were too numb to untie the knotted rope.

"You will not wait anywhere," Kili said sternly. "You are coming with me." He took hold of his brother's uninjured arm, drew it about his neck and hauled Fili to his feet. "If you are grown too lazy to walk, then I shall carry you."

"Kili, no, I…"

"And if you refuse to be carried, then I shall sit beside you in the snow until we freeze to death, and a fine pair of silly sculptures we shall be." Kili spoke through clenched teeth, but he did not wait for his brother's answer. Already he was half-dragging, half-carrying Fili toward the gap in the wall.

If it had been only a trick of the light and not a true path, then even Kili's unfailing spirit might have finally met its match, but he reached the wall and saw that his guess had been right. There was a pass, indeed, a long path between two hills with a roof of ice that had kept out the snow. Going first and urging his brother along behind him, Kili pressed them on along the narrow, winding road. It was a tight squeeze in several places but after only a dozen yards, he and his brother were let out onto a wide and sheltered plain between the mountains.

Rolling snow-drifts rose up to meet them and many rocks and ridges for shelter. Half a mile to their right, the plain sloped toward the western wall of the valley and there… were trees! They were leafless and most were small, to be sure, but there were so many that the brothers might have built a bonfire to keep themselves warm through the whole night and then some. Kili laughed out loud to see the wood just waiting for his axe.

"Look, Fili!" he called, lifting his brother's head to show him. "And you were determined to sit outside this fine establishment while I feasted and warmed myself beside a roaring blaze!"

"There is no fire yet," Fili said, but he smiled to see the trees. "I will praise your hospitality once the fire is lit and we are seated beside it with… and then…" But he shook his head. He was too tired for long speeches and said nothing more.

Kili helped his brother to limp across the open space between them and the trees. Once there, he set Fili down upon a low stone and made sure that his brother was comfortable before he left to gather the wood for their fire. He cut the rope from his waist with his knife.

The lowest trees were the thickest and built of hard wood. Kili took one look at them and knew that he would not have the strength to chip through those frozen pillars. Looking up, he saw many thinner trunks along the top of the ridge. The stronger winds had stunted them, but they would burn as well as any other. He started up the hill.

The slope was steep, but not as dangerous as the one that they had left north of the mountain range. Kili half climbed, half crawled his way up the top of the ridge and then braced his feet in the snow. He unhooked the axe from his belt and drew back his arm.

With a resounding crack, the blade struck the tree and the force of it jarred Kili's arm. But, more than that, he was startled to hear an answering cry and a loud voice shouting orders from the other side of the hill. He looked down and stared in amazement to find more than half a dozen dark-haired Men standing together in a glade. Their skin was smooth and brown, chaffed by the cold winds of their native land, and each was clad in thick, warm furs. They carried long spears in their hands, and half of the hunters wore a bow and full quivers upon their backs. They were weather-worn but not weary. Even as Kili struggled to pry his axe out of the frozen tree, one of the Men saw him and pointed up the hill drawing the others' attention.

"Bakhuz," Kili muttered, shaking his head at the injustice of it all. "Just when I thought we were safe…"

His axe pulled free from the truck of the tree and he hefted it in his hand, but he knew that there was no chance for one Dwarf against seven tall Men armed with distance weapons. They were nearly upon him, and he wished for his old bow and arrows as he turned to run back down the hill.

To his surprise, one of the hunters called up to him – at least, Kili guessed that the words were meant for him. He did not understand the language of the north. He hesitated, but knew better than to wait and ask for an explanation. If he thought that he might save his brother by surrendering himself, he would, but Fili had been left out in the open and their best chance was to put their backs together and fight.

Kili turned and ran down the hill to his brother. "Fili! Your sword!" he called.

Fili had already heard the commotion and was on his feet, looking around in confusion. When he saw the fear on his brother's face, he drew his sword and braced himself for a battle, but Kili could see that he was in no condition to fight. They were both too tired, too hungry and too cold.

The dark-haired hunters had reached the crest of the hill and stood still, looking down at the dwarves. They spoke together in hushed voices, some pointing at Fili and Kili and others gesturing back the way they had come. The man that had called to Kili stood ahead of the others and did not speak. He stared at the dwarves with dark eyes and arms crossed. His hood was thrown back, and his face was stern and angry.

That was the leader, Kili guessed. Sure enough, the man raised his arm and the others fell silent. They took up their spears and started warily down the hill. Two of the hunters took out their bows and fit arrows to the strings. Kili gripped his axe with both hands, readying himself for the fight that would, he thought, determine the fate of himself and his brother.

So, this is how we die… he thought, echoing Fili's own words from the day before. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother wince as he raised his sword. At least it will be in battle… and together…

'Bakhuz' - (the) hammer. As in, the hunters are the Hammer and the cold and hunger of Forodwaith are the Anvil. The Dwarves are caught between the two.

And so, the countdown continues. Please, please, please, if you've read all this and never left a review, leave one now! Or at the last chapter, if you like. I really do want to know how I've done. This story has been a big project for me and I'd like to know whether it was worth the effort. What you think of it.

Thanks,

-Paint