The air was cold as the icy wind blew through the white, skeletal forest. The stiff timbers creaked and groaned under the strain, filling the woods with a strange sort of lament. A crooning, eery song of nature. The snow that coated the ground was pristine and glittering with the reflection of the moonlight and starlight filtering through the starched fingers reaching for the sky. It was a serene night, though something menacing hung in the air, a tension that could only be described as foreboding.

Several shrieks that seemed to come from the depths of hell filled the icy atmosphere above the song of the trees. The tension in the air seemed to grow exponentially and a scent of blood filled the air.

Two tall figures broke through the undergrowth wearing dark navy blue cloaks. Both were tall and lithe with blonde hair, though one was female and the other was male. They took turns glancing fearfully over their shoulders with pale, smooth complexions marred by terror. The woman's wide eyes showed her fear as did her frantic, desperate hold on a small bundled form close to her chest. Her husband's mood was defined by the cut across his forehead that bled profusely down into his eyes.

"Come, Ánië! We must hurry!" the man whispered, guiding her through the tangle of plants to duck behind a large fallen tree. "Remain quiet. They shall pass us by."

"Angrod, they will find us! They killed the horses in the most ruthless way and they were protected through the grace of the Last Homely House of Lord Elrond! We were too, but what will that do?" she protested, nearly in tears. "I will not allow our little Maera to be taken by them to be killed just as brutally!"

"Ánië, be quiet!" he said furtively, and slowly rose enough to see over the top of the log in an attempt to get a look at their assailants. A startled cry was jerked out of his mouth though as an orc arrow embedded itself in his throat, and he fell to the ground gasping and gurgling on his own blood. Ánië screamed and got to her feet, trying to turn and run as well.

The twang of arrows and the joyful screams of orcs rent the air and the elf fell to the floor, back bristling with arrows. The whooping cries of their killers carried out into the night, and people in the nearby town shivered in their beds, held their children more closely, and locked the doors.

Save one.

"Ooh! Are those orcs, uncle?" an eager young voice asked from before the fire. "Are you gunna go and fight 'em, like you did in the stories?"

"No, Kíli. One doesn't go out looking for a fight," Thorin admonished from where he was sitting on a stool, reading his book by the fire. "And orcs are far from being a simple item for childhood games. They are dangerous and violent. Fíli, do you not tell your brother these things?" he admonished and the little blond boy looked up from where he was whittling away a wooden figurine, completely oblivious to the situation around him until another orc cry shattered the peace, followed by a different scream.

A scream that sent shivers up and down even Thorin's spine.

"Uncle Thorin!" Fíli cried, dropping his whittling, and the adult closed his book with a snap and pulled the two boys into his arms. They gripped his arms and back tightly in their fear, fists making small knots out of the leather and fur.

"Sh...it's okay little ones," he said softly. "It's just the wind playing tricks," he lied. Suddenly, a series of rapid knocks sounded at the door, making Kíli squeak in fear. Fíli started and grabbed his uncle's hair even tighter, making the adult's eyes smart.

"Boys, let go. I must go and answer the door," he said softly, trying to pry them off of him.

"But what if it's orcs?" Kíli whispered fearfully and Thorin laughed.

"Orcs...wouldn't knock, Kíli," he assured him and slowly managed to free himself from his nephews' merciless grips and sighed in mild exasperation as their tight holds were turned on each other as they huddled on the floor. He reached the door just as his visitor began knocking again. Muttering to himself about the impatience of humans, he jerked the door open.

"Balin," he said in mild surprise as the dwarf pulled him outside. "What is it?"

"You heard them. Why do you think I'm here?" he asked and gave a stern look to the two children who were trying to sneak in closer to hear their conversation. At the old warrior's glare, they scampered back a few feet to a safer distance.

"I'll wake Dís so she can watch her boys." Balin nodded in agreement and moved off to join his brother outside. Thorin walked back in the house and knocked on his sister's door waiting impatiently as it opened.

"What is it, Thorin?" she asked, blinking sleep out of her eyes as she saw his stiff demeanor.

"Orcs. We have reason to believe they've waylaid some people out in the woods so we are going to inspect. I need you to watch Kíli and Fíli." She nodded and walked out into the warm sitting room.

"Mommy!" Fíli cried in fear and ran over to his mother, open arms held up to her.

"Oh, come here little one," she whispered and took him into her arms. "Uncle Thorin is going off to check on something with Mister Balin and Mister Dwalin. We're going to wait patiently for them to come back, okay?"

"Sure," the blonde one answered and Kíli, out of habit of doing the same as his brother, nodded. Thorin nodded and picked up his sword from where it was leaning against the door frame before walking out to his comrades, the forest in their sights. Once the door closed, Dís led her boys before the hearth and began telling them a story. She couldn't help but be afraid as to what they would find in the trees.

Outside, Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin treaded softly through the skeletal wood, making sure that they didn't make any unnecessary noise. The torch that the half bald dwarf held high cast enough light that they could see for several meters ahead of them. The ground before them was troubled, the snow disturbed in what could only be described as a mad struggle. Then, a soft noise of disgust from Thorin drew their attention upwards.

"In the name of Aulë..." Balin said softly and they looked on at the pair of brutally ravaged horses lying in the white snow before them, blood turning the ground bright red. "Where're the riders?" he asked and Thorin didn't respond at first. Then Dwalin answered.

"No longer of this world, judging by the screams." The three of them forged on through the snow, avoiding the bloodied carcasses. The trail the two riders had left wasn't hard to follow, nor was the following pathway of the orcs.

"They were probably human," Thorin commented as they continued on. "There." They stopped their procession as Dwalin's hoisted torch cast light onto the blood covered scene before them. Two figures lay stretched out on the ground behind the shelter of a large fallen tree and their blood flowed from their stiff bodies in a slow trickle. They had mostly bled out by this point, Balin realized and sighed sadly. This was no way to go.

Thorin walked forward, Dwalin going with him to provide light. Suddenly though, both stopped and the leader of their people said in a disgusted tone,

"They are elves." Balin trudged forward and they looked down on the finely tipped ears, fair features, and long blonde hair. "Most likely a couple." With that Thorin turned around and began walking off.

"Is that it then?" Balin asked. "Thorin, they were still living beings! Are we going to leave them here for the carrion?"

"The elves didn't help us with our dead," he protested darkly and Balin shook his head.

"This isn't a war, Thorin. These elves did nothing to wrong you. This is the equivalent of a back alley murder," he said sternly. Thorin however ignored his friend's words and continued walking, stepping over the log as he left the area.

A soft cry drifted up to his ears. Startled, Thorin looked down and found a small angelic face with wide brown eyes looking up at him from a hidden crevice in the log.

"Great Aulë!" he proclaimed and stepped back in surprise, jumping slightly at the sudden appearance of another living thing practically right under his feet. His expression must have been alarming since Dwalin immediately tightened the grip on his weapon.

"What is it?" Balin asked stepping forward and looking into the log. "Oh..." Thorin looked around at the dead elves on the ground at his feet and at the baby tucked away in the safety of the fallen tree.

"They saved their child with their own lives," he said, neither showing support for the action or disregard for it.

"Well, take it out of there, Thorin," Dwalin instructed and the dwarf looked at his companion, taken aback.

"I will not touch an elf," he responded, voice stiff. Balin gave his friend a look.

"She's an innocent child, Thorin. She'll die if you do not take her in," he responded and Thorin looked at the white bearded warrior gravely.

"You are asking me to hold the offspring of my enemy," Thorin protested. Balin responded without hestiation.

"Yes. Because it is a child, Thorin. And this child has done nothing to you," he added and Thorin still stood there gazing at the helpless form hidden away in the frosty cavity. "For the love of all the gold beneath Erebor, pick the baby up, Thorin!" Balin insisted.

"You pick it up," Thorin retorted, a child like response in and of itself. However when no response was forthcoming, the dark haired dwarf reluctantly reached into the crevice and gently grabbed the bundled baby, lifting it out into the cold.

"A..ta..." the little one cooed, reaching out and gently fastening a hand in Thorin's beard, making the dwarf's eyes harden at the insult of having his hair touched by an elf. "Ata..."

"What's it saying?" Dwalin asked in his normally harsh way, lifting the torch in order to cast more light on the situation and Balin smiled, breath forming a cloud as he stepped closer to the adult and child.

"I think, dear brother, it is saying atar," he answered and Thorin looked up sharply, jerking his beard from the baby's grip and making the child cry.

"Atar?" he asked, affronted. "I am not its father," he said seriously and tried to ignore the rising pitch of scream in his arms. "I am not your father. And stop crying!" he demanded, looking down into the infants face. The cry was cut short and a small smile graced the fine features as the elf reached up and gently tapped his nose, letting her tiny hand trace down his cheek to fasten in his beard once more. She giggled slightly and pulled herself close into his leather and fur collar, hiding her red nose and cheeks from the biting cold.

"Atar," she said once more and Thorin sighed in angry frustration, turning around to face his two companions.

"This...doesn't leave this hallow, do you understand?"

"The child or the fact that the child seems to think you're her father, Thorin," Balin asked, a twinkle in his eyes and Thorin gave him a look.

"In an ideal world, both. But seeing as I can't abandon this thing without you chasing me halfway to Mordor for it, the second." They stood in silence for a few moments when Dwalin asked a question.

"What's her name?" Both of the other men turned to look at him with eyebrows raised. "Well we can't very well continue calling her it, can we?"

"It will remain as an it," Thorin responded and began walking back to the town. "Once you name it, you get attached to it." Balin and Dwalin watched him walk off, skillfully carrying the child from years of experience with his nephews, though he looked as though he wanted to proceed carrying it at arms length from himself.

"He's got a point," the younger of the two brothers admitted. Balin nodded and the two continued on in the steps of their leader.

Dís was just getting her sons to fall asleep on the hearth. Kíli was drifting in and out of consciousness, wrapped in his nine year older brother's protective hold, and blearily watching the flames dancing about before his eyes in the grate. Fíli was completely asleep, his arms clasped tightly about his seven year old, dark haired sibling. The two of them were curled up around each other like two kittens, their mother reflected: all they needed was a ball of yarn tangled about them and the image would be complete. She slowly stopped singing as she heard footsteps approaching their door, stood up, and was half-way to the entrance when the door opened to reveal three snow dusted dwarves and her thoroughly unamused brother holding what appeared to be a screaming baby in his arms.

"Oh my!" Dís cried and hurried over to her sibling, Thorin gladly passing the baby off into her care. "Where did you get this little one?"

"Her parents were killed by the orcs we heard. Elves," Thorin grunted as he moved off to the kitchen to wash his hands of the contamination he had just been exposed to.

"I hope you didn't just leave their bodies there," Dís said slowly, looking up from where she was lightly bouncing the baby to hush it. Thorin cleared his throat and continued to wash his hands. "Thorin..." she said warningly and Balin and Dwalin quickly bowed to the man before making a hasty retreat to the door. "You did!"

"They are elves, Dís. There was no way I was touching them."

"You carried their child here well enough!" Dís protested.

"Balin made me," he returned. When her brother continued to ignore the topic at hand she walked to her bedroom and slipped the dozing child into the crib she had used for her sons. Now she could come back with fists flying.

"Thorin! Give the people some decency in death and give them a proper burial!"

"They are elves, Dís! I don't expect you to understand my particular hatred towards them - "

"Oh that's rich, coming from my own brother! Of COURSE I know why you hate them, but that was ages ago!" At the hearth Kíli and Fíli slowly opened their eyes to watch their mother and uncle shout at each other.

"Why they mad?" Kíli asked his brother, still half-asleep, and before Fíli could give an answer a soft cry of an infant drifted to their ears. "Wha' was that?"

"I dunno," Fíli admitted and both carefully got to their feet and walked over to their mother's room, trying to make as little noise as possible. If either adult caught them, they would be sent straight off to bed without knowing what this mysterious noise was.

And for two inquisitive young boys that just was not acceptable.

The cry was getting steadily louder and they realized whatever this strange intruder was, it was in their mother's bedroom. "Careful, Kíli. I should go first," the blonde one said seriously and pulled his younger, accident prone sibling away from the door and slowly walked in, though his dark haired brother wasn't far behind.

"It sounds like it's comin' from o'er there," the elder continued and took his little brother's hand in his as they slowly approached the crib by their mother's bed. The noise was definitely coming from there and the crying was interrupted by pitiful hiccups and sniffs. "It sounds hurt."

"Or sad," Kíli said, as equally morose sounding as the bawling that issued from the bassinet. Slowly both brothers simultaneously went up on tip-toe to gaze down in the crib. The crying slowly stopped and the watery brown eyes that gazed tearfully up at them shone with happiness as she giggled.

" 'S a baby," Fíli said, almost as though he were disappointed.

"Mae..." she cooed, and the boy frowned, looking up at his brother just in time to see him reaching out to touch the baby on the head.

"Kíli don't do that!" Fíli snapped, throwing his arm out to grab Kíli's wrist, stopping the younger boy's hand half-way on its journey to touch the downey soft blonde hair.

"Why not?" he asked belligerently.

"It's an elf," Fíli responded as though it were common knowledge and the younger scrunched up his nose and withdrew his hand rapidly.

"Ewww..." However, the reaction seemed half-meant. Curiosity was taking over and Fíli didn't stop his brother this time as Kíli reached in and touched the baby's forehead with a single tentative finger. The girl fell silent with her insensible coos and looked at the strange thing on her skin with crossed eyes, making the brothers giggle. Then, she reached up and batted around at Fíli's longer hair as it dangled into her crib, tiny fist fastening gently around a small blonde braid. Something warm and fuzzy began spreading in the dwarfling's chest at the gesture and he leaned over a little farther so she could get a better grip.

"Thorin, I will not allow you to abandon this child on a human's door step!" Dís nearly shouted and Thorin threw his arms up in the air.

"What do you expect me to do with it, I'm not going to keep it anywhere near me!"

"Then I will!" Dís proclaimed. "I'm sure Kíli and Fíli would love having a sister - "

"She's an ELF! What don't you grasp about this, Dís?!" Thorin cried, exasperated. "There would be fundamental problems raising them together! Aging differences, intellect, psychology, skills, biological contrasts! It just wouldn't work!"

"You're being stubborn," Dís said simply as she warmed some milk in a small pot over the fire. "She's a little baby girl. And if you don't want her, I'll take care of her."

"You do that and I will never come within a hundred kilometers of this house," Thorin threatened, but his sister rolled her eyes.

"Don't think I'm going to believe that for a second. You love your nephews too much to do that," she scoffed. Thorin grumbled something to himself that clearly translated into something about her being right. "Now, are you through being a stubborn jerk?" she asked after a long silence. Thorin glared at her and opened his mouth to say something more about the matter but before he could proceed, a different noise interrupted him.

Small footsteps.

Dís, who was facing the doorway and her brother, saw what was behind him before he did and she smiled, slyly covering her mouth and turning away to prepare the milk for the infant. Almost dreading what was behind him, Thorin turned around and fought the urge to grind the heels of his palms into his forehead.

Fíli was standing in the threshold of the kitchen, awkwardly - yet more or less correctly - holding the baby elf in his arms. She was asleep and had her hands fastened on the braids that ran down either side of his head like reins. He was smiling and had an innocent expression on his face that was mirrored on the wide-eyed features of his younger brother, who, as always, was by his side. A slightly awkward staring contest and silence stretched out between the uncle and nephews.

"Can we keep it?" Kíli finally asked with puppy dog eyes, his older brother giving Thorin the same expression. His answer was definitive and swift.

"No."

"Pleeeeeeaaaaaaasssssseeeeee?" his two boys chorused and Dís fought the urge to join in with her sons. Thorin rubbed his forehead as he tried to drown out the noise of annoying children and finally relented.

"FINE!" he cried and the two boys fell into eager silence. "Fine...you can keep it." Fíli smiled protectively down at the sleeping form in his arms and Kíli went on tip toe to look down into her sleeping face.

"We 'ave a sister, Fíli!" he whispered in awe, and from that moment on the three were inseparable.