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Fili left the shelter in such a hurry that he said none of the appropriate parting words or acknowledged their host's generous offer of trade. He was halfway through the camp before he realized that he had run off without even saying farewell to his brother, and he hesitated then, wondering whether it would not have been right to protest Ix's order that Kili remain behind and under guard. The Lossoth seemed safe enough, and Ix was not an evil man, but surely Kili would wish to see Betta, too, and soon…

A voice spoke up behind him, and Fili turned. He was startled to see that one of the guards had followed quietly from the hut and stood a short distance behind him. He frowned, but the guard was not looking at him; he had looked ahead and called out to the old healer who did not realized that Fili had stopped. Elm turned back and waited patiently. Neither healer nor guard seemed in any hurry; they would wait as long as Fili waited, but he felt his cheeks warm and was embarrassed by his own indecision.

He looked back once toward the hut, but Kili could look after himself and would not hold it against his brother that he had hurried away to see their guide. Fili motioned for Elm to lead on.

The old man waited until Fili caught up. He looked at him with understanding and put his hand on his shoulder. "This way," he said and gestured toward the many huts that all looked the same to a southern Dwarf's eyes.

"You know our speech?" Fili asked, surprised.

Elm nodded. "Some little," he said, "some little. This way."

They walked through the camp, taking the long way round the large fire. Fili kept his eyes open, trying to learn the route they took, but he was too tired and the place was too strange.

Though the night had grown dark, most of the hunters were still gathered around the roaring bonfire, cutting up large haunches of meat and wrapping them before burying them in the snow to freeze. From somewhere in the distance, Fili's nostrils picked out the savory smell of smoking meat, and beyond the circle of the largest fire, small groups of hunters sat together sharpening knives or polishing spear shafts; but, though every hunter was hard at work, they all laughed together and spoke merrily.

As Elm and Fili passed by, a voice rose up above the general chatter and began to sing. Almost immediately, other voices joined in. The tone was lively and quick, the words cheerful, and many of the hunters smiled as they sang. The first verse was short and ended soon, but a new voice piped up with the second, and Fili frowned to hear it. It might have been the voice of the young messenger that he had seen before, but he did not think so. It was a woman's voice he heard, and he thought of Betta lost and alone among so many grim-faced hunters. Did they allow women to join their ranks? Though Dwarf-women had fought in battles before, that was for glory, and they seldom condescended to join the company of mere travelling Dwarves.

The song of the hunters reminded Fili of the long nights in the caverns beneath Ered Luin when the halls would echo with the song of his own folk and where he understood all the words that were sung. He wished that he were back in his own home, but more than that, he wished to see Betta and to hear her voice again. The Lossoth were of the race of Men, as she was, but when he looked at them and heard their songs, Fili knew in his heart that she was not of their kind.

Elm touched his shoulder, drawing him from his anxious thoughts. They had arrived at a not-so-large hut far from the noise of the hunters and their fire. No warm glow seeped through the walls of this shelter; all was dark and silent within. The hut was painted with strange symbols and a mat had been laid to one side. Two long staffs stood in the place of spears beside the door, and they were hung with many rocks and feathers tied with leather thongs. Fili glanced at the old man beside him, at his wooden staff and painted robe. This was Elm's own hut, he guessed, as different from the other shelters in the camp as the healer was different from the hunters.

The guard that had followed them took his place beside the door, and Elm gestured for Fili to enter first. He thought of the long days that he had spent wishing for this moment. What would he find inside? A dead body or a broken one? It was not unheard of for the bitter cold to take the mind of a man lost in the snow. Would Betta remember him?

He shook his head. Whether she remembered or not, whether she was yet angry with him for ignoring her advice and leading them all into an orc ambush, he did not care. He pushed past the thick blanket that hung over the entrance and entered the sepulchral shadows of the sickroom.

The space was larger inside than he had expected – or, perhaps it only seemed larger to a Dwarf – and the air was thick and warm though the fire had burned down to embers. While Fili stood near the door and his eyes adjusted to the shadows of the hut, he felt the sweat begin to bead under his heavy clothes. The place smelled of medicinal herbs and long sickness, and Fili was reminded of the sickroom of his mother in the days before her death. He might have fled if Elm had not stood behind him blocking his way through the door.

The old man put his hand on Fili's shoulder once more and helped him to remove his heavy cloak and coat. A bed had been laid along the right side of the shelter and across from the fire. Elm motioned for him to look, and Fili started forward suddenly. He was tired and the close air of the hut coupled with his own hopes and fears spun his head and made him dizzy. If it were not for Elm's strong hand on his arm, he might have fallen into the hot coals, but the healer guided him to the bed and helped him to sit down on the well-worn mat that was laid beside it. He looked up at the old man, and Elm smiled, reading the gratitude in his eyes. He left Fili there and went to tend the fire.

As the flames grew brighter, Fili saw that the bed was piled high with thick furs. The small, dark head of its occupant was turned away from him, but a single, bare arm lay on top of the blankets.

"Betta?" he whispered, and touched her hand.

Elm's patient stirred in her sleep and turned toward him. When the light of the fire shone across her face and Fili saw that it was her, he nearly cried for the joy that was in his heart.

She was too pale, to be sure, and her cheeks were sunken deep and hollow. Her hair was washed and braided back, but many loose strands lay pasted to her forehead with the sweat of her long fever. He saw that the small patch above her ear had been shorn back again, revealing the blue lines of her tattoo stark against the parchment-yellow skin of her temple. He winced to see her marred that way, but before he could turn and show his anger to the healer who had let it happen, she stirred again, and he felt her fingers close around his hand.

"Betta," he said, and bent down to kiss her forehead. "Please, come back to me…"

He passed his hand over her face and saw her eyelids flutter and slowly open. She looked up and for a long time she stared at him so steadily that he wondered whether she saw him or not, but he did not dare to speak. He held his breath and waited.

"Fili?" she murmured, just when he would have given up hope, and a small smile touched her lips.

He might have laughed aloud to hear her speak his name. "Yes! Betta, I…"

But she closed her eyes again and turned her face away. "I am dreaming," she said sadly.

"No, you are not." He touched her chin and gently turned her head back to look at him. "You are awake, and I am here."

She looked up at him, and her brow was pinched with anxious thought. What was left of her smile disappeared. "Then I see a ghost," she said, "for you are dead… or you are dreaming and I am dead… or are we both…?"

Unable to contain his joy any longer, Fili's laughter burst forth. He kissed her hand and laughed. "No, neither of us are dead, Betta! You are not dreaming. You are not dead!" He pressed her hand against his cheek and cried many happy tears over it. "I gave you up. I grieved for you, but all for nothing. You are alive!" Alive and whole, he thought, and he was the luckiest Dwarf in Middle-earth!

Betta stared at him and seemed to doubt his word at first, but when he laughed and smiled at her, all doubt disappeared and her smile returned. She squeezed his hand so tight that he thought his fingers must break, but then she pulled loose from his grasp and instead caught hold of his shirt by the collar. Her hand was strong, but her arm was weak, and she could not pull him down. For a moment, she struggled in vain to raise herself up, but he held her gently and bent down to let her kiss him.

He smiled against her mouth and returned her desperate kisses with equal passion. Her lips were cracked and dry, and she tasted of strange herbs and illness, but he did not care. He kissed her. Her fingers were cold on the back of his neck, and he felt the frailty of her body under his hands, but he did not care. He held her close and did not let go until he felt her hold on him loosen as she shrank away. Then Fili laid her gently down and saw the pain behind her eyes. He reminded himself that she was not yet healed and that he did not know all that she had suffered after the water took her.

Reluctantly, he withdrew his arms and took his lips from hers last of all. She struggled to hold onto him, but she was weak and he knew that he must be strong for her and let her go. For now.

Betta's pulse beat hard against her chest, and her breath came in quick, shallow gasps. There were tears on her cheeks and her eyes were shut tight against the pain she felt. He pushed back the hair from her forehead and sought for some comfort to offer her.

"Sleep now, Betta," he said. "I will be here…"

"I love you!" she gasped. Her eyes flew open and searched for him. Her fingers stretched out, reaching for his hand.

He gave it to her. "I know it, and I love you," he said, "but you must rest now."

"I did not say it before I left you," she said, her words tumbling swiftly each over the other. "I must tell you now, Fili, I love you. Before I…"

"Before nothing," he said. "There is no need. We will have plenty of time together in the days to come. Ix has promised us safe passage to his village where we will rest until I am able to send word to Ered Luin."

She quieted a little then and was content to look at him and hold his hand, but her face was anxious. "Where is Kili?" she asked. "Why does he not visit me?"

"Kili is safe," he assured her. "He is with the Chief of these people not far from here. He… We thought that two visitors would be too much excitement for you." For a moment, Fili wondered why Ix had felt the need to keep his brother as hostage, but he shook the thought away. "I am glad this time you welcomed me first before you asked for my brother. That is a change."

She smiled at that, and he was glad to see that she remembered Evendim. "Do not tell Kili that I forgot him. He would not take it so well, though he does not have your same stubborn pride waiting to be wounded…"

She took a deep breath and sighed, exhausted by so many words at once. Fili was content to watch over her and did not mind the long pauses in between, but he worried over the sound of her breath rasping in her throat. He hoped that it was only the lingering cold and not something more serious that she had caught in the river.

Betta sighed again. "And so, everyone you love survives," she said softly, and her eyes drifted shut again. "It is a happy ending for you, Fili."

"For us," he said, moving closer. His knee pressed against the pile of furs that covered her.

She winced suddenly, and he looked for the cause. Her left hand was folded gently in his but the rest of her was buried under blankets. He saw the pain that paled her face and furrowed her brow, but he did not understand what sickness clung to her. There were no wounds that he could see.

"Tell me what is wrong," he said, touching the back of his hand to her hot cheek. "Tell me what you need and I will fetch it for you."

She shook her head. "It is gone and far from me," she said, taking back her hand and turning her face to the wall.

The effort of their reunion had drained her and she dozed lightly in the warmth of the hut. Elm had built up the fire and now he sat back in the corner, mending an old pouch and looking up now and again to check on his patient. Fili glanced at the old man. He wished to have some time alone with Betta, to say all the things that he wished to say without other ears listening, for he guessed – rightly so – that Elm understood more of the Westron speech than he let on.

"Later, then," Fili murmured. He passed his hand over her pale throat and peaked under the blanket there. A sharp, purple bruise cut across her neck, and he recognized the width of the strap that had held her quiver of arrows. He imagined it caught on a jutting stone, strangling her as the river's current pulled her down…

He shook away the image. She was here and whole and alive. The blankets had fallen low on one side when she reached up to him, and she wore no shirt. He saw that her right shoulder was bare, swollen and painted with bruises. She had been injured there long before the river took her, and he smiled to remember the many times that he had bandaged her, and the many arguments that they had had over his ungentle treatment of her wounds.

He was gentle now, as he trailed his fingers over her shoulder and under the blanket. He touched her carefully, mindful of her injury – and of the apparently few clothes she wore – but he followed the soft skin of her arm around the raised scar of the old orc-wound, down to the curve of her elbow and lower, seeking for her right hand. It was the first part of her that he had kissed and the hand that had drawn the arrow to save his brother's life. He was surprised to find, below her elbow, that her forearm was wrapped in thick, rough cloth.

As his fingers brushed the bandages, Betta's eyes flew open. She realized what he had done too late. "Fili, no…!"

He recoiled and stared at her in horror. He threw back the blanket that covered her and she turned away, but it was not her nakedness that she sought to hide from him; her breasts were bound with a wide strip of soft wool. It was not her bare skin that he stared at, though the many angry scrapes and bruises there would haunt him in the coming days. For now, he saw only one part of her and wished that he could take back the sight.

Betta's right arm was as thin and bruised as the rest of her body, but it ended not in the strong wrist and fair hand that Fili knew but in a fat knot of ugly bandages, stained with blood and seeping fluid. His heart insisted that there must be a hand there, folded and hidden somewhere under all that cloth, but he knew her arm as well as he knew his own; there was no room for wrist or hand. Both were gone, cut off halfway below her elbow.

"Tarûg Mahal," he swore, dropping the blanket, and he would have backed away from her if the fire had not been behind him. He stared at the mess of bandages, refusing to believe what his hand and eyes told him was true.

Betta snatched up the blanket to cover herself. Her hand was shaking and even the feverish color had left her cheeks; her face was stark white with fear. He understood now the pain and suffering that he had seen behind her eyes and knew why she seemed so distant, why her illness ran deeper than mere cold could cut. Her right hand was gone. The thick, strong wrist that drew her bow; the wide, calloused palm that gripped her knife; the quick, clever fingers that he had kissed again and again… all gone.

At once, Fili felt his anger flare up in his chest, a fire blasted by the bellows. His hand went to his side, reaching for the axe that was not there, as he turned on the old man in the corner.

"You dare to call this mutilation a part of the healer's art!?" he shouted. "Butcher! You will have wounds enough of your own to deal with when I am through with you!"

The blanket was snatched back from the door and the guard called in to them. Fili stopped short, crouched down as his hand reached for one of the secret knives that he kept in his boot. He was on his knees beside Betta, and he hesitated knowing that he had few weapons to compare with the many sharp spears and arrows of the Lossoth. He saw the firelight gleam against the sharp edge of the guard's short spear and realized that any violence he did here would only earn worse punishment for Betta who still relied on these people for her care, and for Kili who was held hostage. Fili looked at the old man, expecting him to call in the guard and have the upstart Dwarf removed or worse, but Elm's face was calm and he spoke quietly. The guard at the door seemed unconvinced, and looked back and forth between them, but finally he nodded to Elm and stepped outside again.

Fili stared at the healer in amazement, not knowing where to let fall the anger that still burned in his chest, but Elm was not looking at him. He looked past the red-faced, uncertain Dwarf to Betta, and he spoke to her in the northern speech.

To his surprise, Betta answered Elm in his own tongue. Not until he heard the words fall from her lips, carried by her deep voice, did he realize that it was the same language that he had often heard her muttering over their maps in the early days of their journey. Or, not the same language, but a distant cousin that shared a deep resemblance, especially in the drawn out notes that Fili had heard in the hunters' song. He thought back to his conversations with Magha and was reminded that, though the languages of Men might change with the changing of the years, the Dwarven tongue was strong and steady, as enduring as the mountainside.

Betta's words were no less weak and broken in her father's tongue than in the southern Westron. Fili heard her disappointment and grief scattered among fragments of unintelligible sound, and he knew that he had caused her pain.

When Elm finally turned his eyes to Fili, there was far less kindness in them than before. "You sit," he said and, to Fili's surprise, he obeyed, sitting down on the mat again with his legs folded under him. "Be glad," Elm ordered. "She lives! If she no be glad, then you be glad for her."

The old man stomped out of the hut, muttering under his breath. Even after he had gone, Fili felt anxious and as duly chastised as if the healer had given him an hours' lecture out of Thorin's own book. He turned back to Betta and was surprised to find no anger in her eyes.

She smiled. "He is lucky that I am so weak," she said, speaking of Elm. "He would have heard far worse from me when I first saw…"

She fell silent, and Fili looked down at the blanket under which lay her mangled arm. For a moment, he was tempted to lift the blankets again to confirm what he had seen, but he told himself that she had suffered too much indignity already. He regretted his lost temper and knew now what Ix had hoped to guard against. If Fili had not handed over his axe, Elm would not have had time to speak or the guard to answer before they were hewn down. But still, he was angry.

"They pulled me from the river," Betta went on, staring at the wall with empty eyes. "He says my wrist was crushed, and they could not save both my arm and my life…"

"I was wrong to be angry with Elm," Fili told her, "and when next I see him, I will apologize for I know that he made the right choice. But, Betta, please, tell me who is responsible. What evil injured you and forced the choice to be made? If you fell out of a tree, I would chop it down. If you were beset by wolves, I would hunt the pack and kill them all. If it were a dragon who did this, I would have my vengeance. Tell me where I may let my anger fall, for it must fall somewhere or I fear I will burst!"

"Then let it fall upon the mountain," she said, and her voice was hard and cold. "Those stones are your enemy, not Elm. They crushed my arm and took my strength. Or, be angry with me for leading us into the mountains when you would have turned back and been wise to do so. You said that we should weigh our luck after the quest is over. Well, it is over now, and what luck do I have…" She scowled.

"But if you must be angry," she added, "then leave me and do your shouting elsewhere. I no longer have the strength for it."

"Betta, I…"

"Please, Fili!" she cried. "I love you, and I am glad that you are alive, but we are even now. In payment and in skin. There was no treasure in those hills, but I have paid for my obsession, and for your adventure, too. Take Kili home. Your uncle is a fool if he thinks you are still too inexperienced for his quest. He would be lucky to have you."

She sighed. "If you still wish for the payment that was agreed upon, I will send your ten coins to the mountain as I may, but leave me now. You are released from any oath or responsibility to me. My quest is ended. Go, and give my love to Kili…"

Fili stared at her, but she would not look at him. "I want no coins, gold or silver," he said. "I would give all the treasure of all the lost kingdoms of Dwarves if it would buy back your hand. But that cannot be, and I will not leave you now, not when you need me most. I love you."

She laughed bitterly. "You love a barren, sickly woman? You love a one-armed, weakling thing? Whatever power it was that held me in the water and stopped my head from being gashed against the stone did not do so out of kindness. Of what use am I now?"

Fili hung his head, but he did not leave. He understood her pain and the weakness that she suffered even after she had been warmed and fed. He knew now the meaning behind the strange looks that he had been given, first by Ix and later by the healer, Elm. Betta's sickness was not of the cold or the bruises or even from the trauma of her missing arm. It was a sickness of the mind and heart, and if she did not heal from that, she would not survive the rest.

"One arm or two," he told her, "you are the same woman who put a knife to my throat when we first met at Ered Luin. Luck may have carried you through the water, but your own strength kept you alive. How many would have given up upon waking here alone to find…?" He could not yet speak of her loss. "But you have killed orcs and defeated the cursed wolves. You survived the high hills and the deep tunnels. You will survive this and grow strong again. Besides…" He smiled and took her hand in his; he pressed something small and round against her palm. "Kili would never forgive me if I abandoned you now."

Betta finally turned and looked at him and then down at her hand. He had laid there the little, golden bead that she had thought lost to the river. She closed her hand around it. "You think that your uncle will have me now for a daughter?" she asked him.

"No," he said, "but I did not think that he would before, and now I no longer care what Thorin will or will not have, nor what any other Dwarf will say. But why worry over tomorrow when today is yet uncertain? Will you let me sit with you a little longer?"

She looked at him a long while without speaking, and he feared that she would refuse, but finally she sighed and sank back into the thick fur of her makeshift bed. "Yes, stay," she said. "You are a stubborn Dwarf and no less a fool than when I saw you last."

"Who but a fool would be foolish enough to stand by the side of so stubborn a woman?" he asked.

She laughed, a soft sound and weak, but it was music to his ears. There was respect in her eyes when she looked up at him. "You have grown tall, Fili," she said. "Too tall for me up there, and the fire is too bright. Do not stand by my side but lay here and tell me how you found me."

He did as she asked, gladly, stretching out his legs alongside her bed so that his body shielded her from the glare of the fire. He told her all the long tale of what had passed between the orc's attack and the Dwarves' arrival in the Lossoth camp. Elm was not there to hear, and so Fili held nothing back. He spoke of Magha and the Naug, of the secret cavern and the strange island in the mist. He told her of the criminal Grahn and the meager treasure that Kili had looted from his body, and of the long, cold night that he had spent with his brother as they huddled together against the cold. He told her, even, all that he had learned and guessed of the human settlement that once lived in the hills and how they had traded and treated with the Naug in times long past, but Betta seemed less interested in their story than in his. She seemed to have put the quest behind her finally, and Fili thought it a good sign.

He brushed his hand over her hair as he spoke and told her more of their tale than even Kili knew, for he spoke also of his own dark dreams and the grief and anger that he had felt after he thought her dead. One thing only he kept from her and that was Kili's revelation of the pearl. He did not know how she would take the return of that much-contested jewel or what she would say to hear that he had traded it for their passage home.

Finally, his long story ended. The camp outside their hut was quiet. The hunters had all gone to bed. Fili lifted himself up on one arm and looked down at her. She had been quiet for so long that he thought she had fallen asleep, but she opened her eyes.

"And so," she said, her words heavy with sleep, "you come to find me here." She reached up and brushed her fingers over his untrimmed whiskers. "Not for the first time, you arrive just in time."

"As quickly as I could," he said. "But now our adventures are over and we will have much time together. Ix will take us west to Forochel, and I will hire a wagon to carry us south. At Ered Luin, in warmer lands, you will grow strong again, and I…"

"Will leave me for Erebor," she said.

He frowned and was more than a little confused that so important a thing had been left out of all his future plans. Lost in the joy of being with her, he had forgotten that he was soon to leave. He saw the worry in Betta's eyes and forced himself to smile. He held her only remaining hand and kissed her fingertips, but he did not answer her. She may have been too tired to see the doubt in his eyes, but she would certainly hear it in his voice.

Soon, Betta slipped back into sleep, and soon after that, Elm returned. The healer knew better than to try to order Fili away. Elm offered him a blanket, and Fili lay upon the mat beside Betta's softer bed. Elm unrolled his own mat on the other side of the hut and lay down for sleep.

The fire had burned low and in the darkness, Fili could see only the shape of Betta's body hidden under the thick furs. She had taken back her left hand, but he did not need to touch her to know that she was there and safe. He listened to the sound of her breath and felt her warmth beside him. Not even the hard ground under his thin mat could trouble him so long as she was near, and he knew that wherever Kili slept that night, he could not have found a bed half as comfortable.

Gosh, these two are so much fun to write together! Well, I hope that it was worth the wait and all that terrible suspense that I've put you through. You know you like it ;)

Happy Weekend!

-Paint