Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One: 

Bilbo Baggins Hates || Hobbit Soundtrack

Misty Mountains || Hobbit Soundtrack

Under My Skin || Jukebox The Ghost

Chapter Text

Chapter One: What Vexes All Men

Word Count: 7,410

Chapter Warnings: canon mentions of dragon dismemberment, slight sexism, Thorin being stupid, Gandalf being a prankster

**

Out there, past the rolling hills of Bag End and far beyond the streams that run through Rivendell, and even round the great Dwarven Kingdoms of the North, a Hobbit was born. A Hobbit whose parents had no business being where they were, gave birth to a baby girl. And through the terrible nature of Middle Earth, the new parents of their darling perished before the child was even a year old. But small mercies are granted to the helpless and innocent, and a wandering wizard stumbled upon the ruined camp where a cry was heard from the rubble. Covered and protected by the parents’ lifeless frames was that Hobbit, clingy to the hope that she would be found.

This Wandering Wizard, Gandalf, took the child as his own and raised her the only way he knew. With a strict education of the languages of Elven and Ancient speak, as well as the appreciation for the arts of music and foraging. While he could not provide the same love that her own parents surely would have given her, he gave her the love to help grow her into the young woman she would become.

However, even a childhood as rich as hers, with an education as vast with many fine scholars and rulers as her teachers, was riddled with empty pockets that could not be filled by all the riches provided. For Gandalf had a duty to the world that required him to go on dangerous quests, lasting weeks to months at a time. Strict watch was placed on her by Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel when he had to take leave. And even though generosity was given to her care, they too had matters to attend that left her at the watch of court members, huddled in rooms and meetings where she was more easily managed.

Yes, she longed for an adventure.

During one of her many months of being under the watch of Lord Elrond (and by Lord Elrond she of course meant Lord Elrond’s court), a letter arrived on a very seemingly boring day of lectures and studies. A letter addressed to her, not to “Gandalf’s Student” nor to “The Lord/Lady in the Charge of Y/N” but her and her alone.

“What a curious way to start the afternoon,” she muttered to herself, as she used a knife to slice down the side.

She had already recognized the handwriting as the scribbles of her wizard guardian, but the contents were unlike the usual postage sent to her. In place of herbs and flowers, with a list directed to her new courses to begin, was a simple piece of parchment with a few sentences in the entire page.

My Dear Y/N,

Your presence is required in Bag End in a months-time for an important meeting. Please pack for a long journey, as this is merely a stop in a long year. Are you still waiting for your adventure?

Sincerely,

Gandalf

P.S. Take a pony, for the trails this time of year are often washed by the rain.

Her watchers and educators would say that she was readied in less than an hour after reading the letter. She bid farewell to Lord Elrond and set out before the night had fallen on the land.

Place blame on her excitement, or perhaps the good weather, but Y/N reached Bag End in three weeks’ time, with no sign of Gandalf in the town.

Now, despite her trailing lifestyle, Y/N was a Hobbit by blood, but never by nature. She knew nothing of Hobbit culture, garb, or slang to pass her in the town, nor was she making effort to blend in. Instead, she opted for a peaceful camp just outside the borders of the town, where her pony Chamomile and her rested three more days before Gandalf found her.

“Good morning, my dear,” he greeted, as she poured water on the sizzling coals to stop their burn. “Has your journey here been faultless?”

“That it has,” she replied, shaking her cup to get the last of the drops out. “And how was yours? I haven’t seen you in at least four months. They get boring when you’re not there to buffer the conversations.”

“With a horse my journey’s time was lessened. But there were many places I had to be present.”

“Does it get tiresome to be so needed?”

Gandalf chuckled. “Among common folk I am very needed, but among Wizards I am quite free to do as I please.”

“It’ll explain why you’re always in Hobbit country.” With her comment she was unable to escape her bitter taste. She was not one to judge an opportunity to be away from her stone walls, having begged on countless occasions for such, she was raised by Elves, whose refined tastes carried her through all areas of life. This, however, was Hobbiton, where country folk rested and retired, grew and never left. It was nothing more than another Rivendell hall, without the art and riches to make it bearable.

He gave a look to her, the look he always gave when he was suspicious of something or a bit perturbed. “These are a pleasant folk,” he said. “They throw wonderful parties and are always so appreciative of my fireworks.”

“As am I! What are you insinuating?”

“That you are much more Hobbit-like than you’ll allow me to say.”

Y/N gave a pouted lip. “Hobbits… country folk who prefer the hearth over the campfire.”

“And is that such a bad thing?”

She knew this conversation was futile, as she didn’t have anything against Hobbit lifestyle. Just that she was much more interested in the nomadic paths that were available to her. “I suppose not. But this need for me to rejoin Hobbit society is copper turning green with every conversation it enters.”

“Very good metaphors,” Gandalf teased. “Is your study of poetry treating you well?”

“One day a sonnet will kill the arts and I’ll laugh at its funeral.”

Gandalf laughed, and a cool breeze blew through the air across the trees.

A beat past before Y/N spoke again. “Why are we here, Gandalf? What meeting is to be held?”

Gandalf’s smile faded and he grew serious, as if speaking of something grave and grief ridden. “Have I done a proper job of educating you of Dwarves?”

“Hardly. I only know of King Dain of the North. Though that cannot be entirely your fault. You’ve entrusted me with their natural enemy my whole life.”

He had a comment on how there nearly no beings that were natural enemies, but ultimately said nothing. “Well, King Dain has a cousin. And the cousin is the rightful king to the Lonely Mountain Kingdom. A dragon took the homeland over a hundred years ago, and the prophecy to reclaim is has begun. Tonight, we are to meet with 14 members of a company to journey back to Erebor.”

Her blood ran cold, but her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Is my first adventure involving a dragon?” she asked, mouth agape.

“I’m afraid it is.”

She processed for a moment, the weight of this task sinking into her shoulders. “I’m unsure whether to be excited or horrified.”

“I’m sure those emotions will change often on this journey.”

By nightfall, Y/N had finished feeding Chamomile, and watered his trough, when she began making way into the shire. Gandalf said to look for his mark on the door of the holder, and he would join shortly with the rest of the company. Apparently, some of the Dwarves are often lost in the confusing routes of Bag End. It took herself a few streets before she saw the shine of the rune engraved on the wooden door. When she made her way through the gape and up the knock, she already heard the lively commotion inside. She gave a firm knock, and it was only a pause before the door opened quickly and wide.

“Y/N, at your service.” She gave a curtsey, trying to follow the court rules set for her by her training ladies. This was a meeting of secrecy and great importance; yes, but it was diplomatic to say the least. She could deny it all—every chance she got—but her skills lied in her studies. Her tutors had made sure of it. “Have I arrived late?”

The Hobbit who answered the door looked quite annoyed and did not introduce himself in return. “Apparently not.”

When he made no move to invite her, she peered at the four Dwarves that were bringing food from the pantry to the table. “May I come in?”

“Well, to be perfectly honest--”

“Is that the rest of them?” one of the Dwarves called.

“I hope to gods that it is!” The Hobbit stormed away as the Dwarf appeared in the frame.

He had blonde hair and a blonde beard, with braids going down the side of his face. He seemed to be an average sized Dwarf in height, but bulky with the stature of a trained fighter no doubt. His eager smile faded quickly when his eyes fell on her, stunned from his mid-hug position.

“Y/N, at your service,” she greeted again. Perhaps the Hobbit wasn’t the host, but a neighbor or a friend called to help. It would explain his rude behavior in scuttling off. She did not let it deter her from her manners, as best as she was able to keep them.

“Um, Fili, at yours.” He bowed suddenly, as if remembering it was custom.

She adjusted her sleeves under her cloak, straightening out the buttons, and gave a quick smile. “May I come in?”

Fili shook from his state and nodded quickly, “Yes, of course Miss.” He stepped to the side. “Please come in.”

She stepped inside as the door was shut behind her. She looked about at the decor and the furnishings of the hole. The were warm, yellow and gold, shining life a soft candle in the wind. It smelled of food, with the comforts of indulgence. “Have I arrived late?” she asked once more, shedding her coat and bag.

“No, not at all. We are still waiting on--”

A knock at the door interrupted him.

The Hobbit from before rushed to answer, exclaiming quite angrily. “There’s nobody home!” he shouted, throwing it open. About ten Dwarves all piled on each other fell through the doorway, and a very amused looking Gandalf bent door to say hello.

“Gandalf,” the Hobbit sighed.

Despite his reputation and title as wizard, Y/N could tell that he was very amused. He often was when matters of jokes were at his disposal, but there was something special about this Hobbit that made his eyes light up a bit more. She could only find a similar dynamic between a horse and a house cat, after having stomped a puddle all over the poor feline.

The many Dwarves gathered themselves, all giving introductions on top of one another, before joining the rest about the kitchen, pantry, and dining hall. The many hands made the set up go by much faster, but she could hardly keep up with all the conversations that were happening at once.

Some dwarves were carrying foods and discussing the many different roads that led them to the Master Hobbit’s home, while others were reminiscing over past battle stories, all while finding their mugs under the ale and beer taps. She could tell that this was a merry group, filled with old and new friends by the way they could barely notice her presence.

A couple times, a Dwarf or two would make eye contact with her, but none introduced themselves the way that they did to the other Hobbit. She decided to chalk it up to preoccupied minds or even nerves at a new face that was (come to find out) was not on the guest list (damn, that wizard, yet again). But she would be just as dishonest as her guardian if she did not admit that she wondered if any of them were displeased that a woman was now in their midst, rather than the promised all-men company. What furthered her silence was that one of the any things she inherited from her guardian was his taste of mischief, and it was quite intoxication that for once, no one quite knew who she was or what she was capable of.

“Put that back!” the Hobbit shouted. “Put that back!”

His orders fell on deaf ears as a red-headed Dwarf walked past him with three cheese wheels in his arms.

“Tad excessive, isn’t it? Have you got a cheese knife?”

“A cheese knife?” questioned a different Dwarf. “He eats it by the block.”

She moved from the hall connecting the pantry and table, into the small open area where Gandalf stood. A Dwarf offered him a glass of red wine, which looked amusingly small in his hands. She watched as he took a sip, nodded in delight, and went to find that there was not a second sip to enjoy.

“Enjoying yourself, I see,” she commented, crossing her arms as she leaned against the frame.

“Ah, my dear; have you introduced yourself to everyone?”

“My Elven ladies would be displeased to hear you ask such a thing,” she replied, with a slight sense of humor behind her voice. “They would say, ‘Mister Gandalf, do not encourage such a deranged way of court. For the lady should never introduce herself before the gentleman has had a chance to.’”

“I thought you called such customs ‘backwards and pigheaded?’”

She laughed, her shoulders bouncing with delight. “Well, I never said I agreed with their teachings.”

Gandalf chuckled into his beard, peering down at her with a smile. “Well, are you going to introduce yourself?” The way of court was strange, the rules abundant and wild, but so was chess. And she, to her and Gandalf’s admittance, was excellent at the game.

She looked back up and returned his grin. “Perhaps. But perhaps I should take a page from your book and enjoy the amusements a while longer.”

He shook his head in displeasure. “Perhaps I do not give your Elven ladies enough credit, and they’ve given up on you.”

“Sounds like the ramblings of a senile Wizard at his wits end.”

“Wits end, perhaps, but senile I am never.”

As she opened her mouth to continue their banter, a loud belching contest sounded from the dining table. “Well, I’ve certainly one thing in common with my professors,” she said, scrunching her nose up in disgust.

“It’s a merry gathering,” Gandalf insisted. “Now, go get yourself some food and refreshment before this bottomless lot finds the bottom.”

As she turned to snatch some food form the table, the other Hobbit wandered his way to Gandalf, muttering angrily under his breath.

“My dear, Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?”

‘So, his name is Bilbo.’

The feast was starting to come down from it’s high by the time she had entered, but she spotted some rolls and untouched chicken down by the end. However, the issue of Dwarves came back again as there was hardly any room for her to slip through to grab something without prying her way between two of them.

“Pardon me,” she said, tapping the shoulder of the Dwarf in a hat. “Can you pass me a honey roll and a bit of chicken?”

The Dwarf turned and his eyes widened. “Oh, um, but of course. Miss…” he trailed off, waiting for her to tell her name.

“Y/N. Pleased to meet you.”

“Bofur, and the pleasure is all mine.”

She gave a friendly smile, and a moment passed before she said, “May I have the honey roll?”

Bofur shook himself from his stare. “Yes, yes of course.”

He quickly grabbed a plate and piled on a few rolls and the rest of the chicken. Y/N decided against telling him this was far too much for her to eat and accepted it graciously. “Thank you, Master Bofur. May our conversations continue another time.” As she slipped away, the last of the food was finished off and the youngest looking Dwarf wandered into the conversation between Gandalf and Bilbo.

“Excuse me,” he said, in a soft voice compared to the others. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But what should do with my plate?”

Bilbo opened his mouth, clearly to point him in the direction of the sink, when a Dwarf plucked it from his hands. “Here you go, Ori, give it to me.” Then he tossed it away and it was gracefully caught by Fili, the Dwarf from the door.

Bilbo looked utterly appalled. “Excuse me! That’s my mother’s Westfarthing pottery; it’s over a hundred years old!” His anger was accompanied by the sound of cutlery being hit together and against the table. “Ca-can you not do that? You’ll blunt them!”

“Oo, d’ya hear that, lads?” called Bofur, with a mischievous look on his face. “He says we’ll blunt the knives.”

The phrase must’ve reminded them of a shanty or song that they knew, because the black-haired dwarf started to sing.

“Oh, good gods,” Y/N muttered.

“Are you not a fan of joyous song and dance?” Gandalf asked.

“Oh, don’t make me out to be a sad spinster when I’m clearly just confused.”

“That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!”

The dishes flew about the air and were tossed both by hand and bouncing off of feet and elbows into the kitchen. A Dwarf was by the sink, quickly scrubbing before tossing to be dried, and winding back at the dining table where they were being carefully stacked. From Bilbo’s position he could not see that the cutlery and dishware was safe and fussed about in a panic.

Bofur was playing his flute as he continued to knock dishes about, looking very pleased at what he had started. ‘He must be the Bard of the company,’ she thought to herself.

While she wasn’t a merry Hobbit (by Hobbit standards), she still enjoyed song and dance as much as the average lady in Middle Earth. The only issues that occurred were two left feet and a soft voice that could not carry much farther than the occupied room. She hummed to herself, occasionally, and sometimes spun about her room when she heard the Elven musicians played, but never aloud and never in public. So, in light of the new situation, she began to clap along, small laughs escaping her lips.

“That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!”

The Hobbit pushed his way through to find his dishes were cleaned, stacked, and in one piece as the Dwarves around him chuckled heartly at hid reaction. But the laughter soon came to a deathly silence as a few deliberate knocks were heard from the front door.

The Dwarves looked to Gandalf, who too had his jolly face sunken into a seldom and serious frown. “He is here,” he told them.

The wizard went to go open the door, to find a Dwarf in blue clothes and black braided hair standing in the frame. He looked a bit annoyed, or perhaps his face was always so serious and cross. “Gandalf,” he said, skipping the greetings. “I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way twice.” He entered, shucking his coat from his shoulders, and laying in atop the growing pile by the entrance. She admitted to no one but herself, she thought he was very handsome. “I wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.”

“Mark?” Bilbo demanded, incredulously. “There’s no mark on that door; it was painted a week ago!”

“There is a mark,” Gandalf corrected. “I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company; Thorin Oakenshield.”

Neither made much effort of shaking or bowing to show respect.

“So… this is the Hobbit. Tell me, Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?”

Bilbo raised a brow. “Pardon me?”

“Axe or sword?” he clarified. “What’s your weapon of choice?”

“Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know.” Thorin gave a very displeased look between him and Gandalf, who looked most amused by the situation. “But I fail to see why that’s relevant.”

“Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” The Dwarves at the table laughed, and Bilbo looked more and more disheveled by the comparison.

The older looking Dwarf looked to Thorin. “What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?” he asked, looking very hopeful.

“Aye, envoys from all seven kingdoms.”

“And what did the Dwarves of the Iron Hill say? Is Dain with us?”

Thorin hesitated, and then shook his head. “They will not come. They said this quest is ours, and ours alone.”

“You’re doing a quest?” Bilbo asked, re-entering the conversation.

‘Typical,’ Y/N thinks to herself. ‘Gandalf would torture the poor man only to leave him hanging when the leader made himself present.’

Gandalf must’ve sensed the deadly stares being sent at him by his pupil, because he quickly turned his attention to the confused Hobbit. “Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light.”

Bilbo obliged, still concerned about being a good host, and a map was placed on the dining table for him to look over.

“Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single salutary peak.”

“The Lonely Mountain,” Bilbo finished, looking in awe at the map in front of him.

She looked up, surprised to see a country boy such as himself show interest in something as this. Something in his eye twinkled, like adventure called to him the way it did her, even if he did not confirm aloud.

A sitting Dwarf nodded. “Aye, Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time.”

The Dwarf who must’ve been Oin agreed. “Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold. When the birds of the old return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.”

Bilbo looked up with alarm. “Uh, what beast?”

Bofur laughed and began to give a colorful description of a dragon, much to Bilbo’s annoyance.

Y/N moved her way to Gandalf, and he leaned down as she began to whisper to him. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” she demanded, disappointed.

“I haven’t the slightest clue what you speak of.”

“You didn’t mention to Bilbo just as you failed to mention to them that I would be joining this company. And by the sounds of it, I haven’t even known my role to prepare for such a journey. And I doubt this ensemble will be able to help fill in an equipment gaps I require.” She motioned to her clothes. “Not to mention that all I’ve packed were scrolls and documents. I’ve a pair of weapons and scarcely more. And Baggins? Ha! I doubt he even has a butter knife should he be so desperate to defend.”

“My dear, why worry when--”

“And you forget we have a wizard in our company!” the black-haired Dwarf shouted. “Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time.”

The wizard’s face fell as she pressed her fingers to her lips to stop herself from bursting out in laughter.

“Oh, well. No, uh, I… I wouldn’t say--”

“How many then?” a Dwarf asked.

“What?”

“Well, how many dragons have you killed?” the Dwarf clarified. Gandalf began to puff his pipe. “Go on, give us a number!”

The party began to argue with each other, only to be silenced by Thorin shouting to them. “If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years.” He looked much more serious and deadly, as if it were even possible for such a stoic Dwarf. “Eyes look East to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?”

“You forget,” said the older looking Dwarf. “The front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain.”

“That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.” Gandalf produced a key hung on some rope and place it in front of Thorin, who’s eyes lit up with recognition.

“How did you come by this?” he questioned, accusingly.

“It was given to me by your father. By Thrain.” Thorin looked furiously displeased at this secret. “For safe keeping. It is yours now.”

“If there’s a key, there must be a door,” said Fili.

‘Ah, the beautiful thinking of Dwarves in their element.’

Gandalf nodded. “These runes speak of a hidden passage to the Lower Halls.”

The black-haired Dwarf piped up again. “There’s another way in.”

“Well, if we can find it, but Dwarf doors are invisible when closes. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map… and I do not have the skill to find it.” For a quick moment, the Dwarves at the table let their faces fall. “But there are others in Middle-Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth… and no small amount of courage. But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done.”

“That’s why we need a burglar!” Ori exclaimed.

“And a good one too. An expert, I’d imagine.” Bilbo crossed his arms, looking thoughtfully at the map in front of him, unaware at the eager faces looking to him.

“And are you?” asked the Dwarf with a hearing-horn.

Bilbo looked up and cocked a confused brow. “Am I what?”

The Dwarf smiled widely. “He said he’s an expert!”

The table erupted in cheers as Bilbo quickly tried to shush and negate them. “I’ve never stolen anything in my life!”

Balin nodded in sad agreement. “Well, I’m afraid I have to agree with Mister Baggins. He’s hardly burglar material.”

Despite the Dwarves looking as if this was an insult or even perhaps a lost skill, Bilbo was nodding his head in a quick manner. “Nope!”

The bald Dwarf with many tattoos shook his head. “Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk, who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.”

Bilbo agreed once more.

Y/N leaned towards him, lifting a hand to block her words from the table as she whispered, “Master Baggins, while I understand the necessity to dispute being a criminal, I doubt this is the crowd you want to seem helpless to.”

“Are you not a Hobbit?” he asked, looking shocked. “What could have possessed you to go about on journeys like this in the first place?”

“Well, as long as you don’t tell anyone, this is my first one.” She lowered her hand and quickly brushed her hair from her face, trying to look as serious as the rest of them. But a smirk was pulling at her lips as she devilishly winked to him. “But I am quite excited to be as mysterious as you in this conversation.”

His eyes widened as he coughed and quickly turned away. “You are quite bold for a young lady.”

“I am many things, and all of them are what make me very wonderful young lady.”

The arguing of the table quickly hushed as Gandalf boomed and stood, creating dark shadows across the room. “If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is.” As he calmed, the room opened to light again and the Dwarves were once again ready to listen. “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most, if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of Hobbit is all but unknown to him. Which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the 14^th member of this company and I have… What is it Ori?”

The youngest Dwarf had his hand raised patiently, despite another Dwarf trying to swat hit hand down. “Well, I’m sorry to interrupt Mister Gandalf, but what is…” His eyes locked with her, and he quickly shut his mouth and turned away, searching for the words to his inquisition.

Gandalf turned to follow his gaze and nodded. “Ah yes, I almost forgot. This is Y/N, and she will be joining our company as well.”

“What?” a few Dwarves demanded at once, some sounding surprised, and others displeased.

“She is a very talented Hobbit that is well-read in politics, and a very experienced traveler, as she is something of my apprentice.”

“Ah, Gandalf; too kind,” she said to him. “I’m sure you were just startled at being put on the spot and will find a more appropriate way to describe our relationship. He took me in as a child and raised me as his own. He is something of a parent to me.”

“Are you a wizard?” Oin asked, still confused as to the nature of the relationship.

“No, sir.”

“Are you magical?” asked Balin.

“No, sir.”

“Are you a princess?” Ori finished.

Her heart warmed at his question, soft and sincere. She shook her head softly. “No, dear. I am simply a woman.”

“Enough of this introduction,” Thorin ordered, standing. He took two quick steps before her was inches from her face, eyeing her up and down. “So, Gandalf speaks highly of you, does he? But he has failed to tell you that 14 members is all that was agreed upon, and every position filled with Mister Baggins.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to protest, but Thorin lifted his hands to stop him.

“Tell me, what weapons are you proficient in?”

“Daggers.”

He scoffed. “Throwing or melee?”

“Melee, Master Oakenshield.”

He didn’t look pleased with that answer. “And what politics are you ‘well-versed’ in?”

She looked to Gandalf, who nodded for her to answer his question. “I’ve held delegations, treaties, land distribution, wealth divisions, and matters of importance with many beings. I’m verse in many languages, orders of most court--”

“Such as?”

“Man, Hobbits, Elves--”

Thorin slammed his fist on the table, causing her to jump. He said nothing and turned to Gandalf. “You and your love of Elves.” He almost smiled, but here was no joy behind it. “There are three things wrong with this arrangement. She is a Hobbit, with only skills in close combat, yet none hand-to-hand. She has dealings with Elves. And she is a woman.”

“Excuse me?” she exclaimed, filling the space as she marched forward. “I know not much of Dwarven culture, but I highly doubt a proud people would succumb to a patriarchal society that would diminish the accounts of a woman simply on the grounds of her sex!”

“Do not mistake me, Miss Hobbit,” he snarled back, his breath hot against her face. “If this was a battle, a diplomatic journey, or even a political meeting-- as you are so proficient in-- I would not hesitate. But this is a quest that shall span months on end, with other beings searching to stop us from regaining our homeland. We cannot afford distractions.”

She scoffed, eyeing him just as he had her. “Do I distract you, or are you easily distractable?”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m implying that it is not the notice’s fault of being noticed. Perhaps if your eyes should cause you to stray from such a noble journey you should not have them!”

“Y/N! Get some air.” Gandalf separated the two, just as she was beginning to breathe heavily and burn with anger.

“But--”

“Listen to me, child. Allow me to speak to the stubbornness of Dwarves.”

“But--”

Gandalf’s look was growing increasingly impatient.

She bit her tongue. “Fine.” She shucked her holster and shoved it into the arms Bilbo. “To stop my tempted nature in destroying your garden out there.”

Y/N slammed the door behind her as the cool night air hit her, slightly chilling her boiling face. She stomped down the path and through the gate and walked about the paths in the calm of the dark. The homes were lit faintly with the dying light of hearths, curtains drawn and the figure shadows moving slowly behind them. The twinkle of twilight was upon them, and the dew of the cool had set across the hills, sparkling like stars fallen. When the night had finally calmed her, she made her way back.

“Apologies, sir, I reacted harshly,” she practiced to herself. “Please allow me to prove my worth to aid you and your kin.” She shook her head, thinking she sounded insane. Going against her wishes by groveling at his boots to allow her to join them. She shouldn’t care at all about a company that didn’t welcome her, but she did. She wanted it so badly, she could almost taste the wind against her as she climbed through those woods beyond the Shire. She took a final breath before re-entering the home, only to see Bilbo collapse in front of her.

“Oh, very helpful, Bofur,” Gandalf said.

Her eyes widened. “What did I miss?”

“You missed Bofur botching our burglar.”

“Do you enjoy speaking in alliterations or is he unconscious?” She crouched and grabbed Bilbo’s hands, pulling him up. He was mostly dead weight, making it extremely difficult, but she pulled him to his feet and helped him move to his armchair.

“She’s strong,” Balin said, who must’ve been making a point. “For her stature at least.”

She let Bilbo fall into his seat, where his face was still pale, and his head lulled form side to side. “Gandalf, can you go make some tea for us?”

As Gandalf went to go fetch a fresh cup, she threw a blanket over Bilbo’s legs and carefully lifted his head up. “Hey, you’re okay. Let’s try to wake up now.”

He was still white as a sheet, but he was holding his head up by himself, and she was patient in handing him his own cup of tea. “Thank you.”

“Come now, Bilbo, surely you’re in shape to discuss this,” Gandalf said to him, pacing the room.

“I’ll be alright. Just let me sit quietly for a moment.”

“You’ve been sitting quietly for far too long!” he protested. “Tell me, when did doilies and your mother’s dishes become so important to you? I remember a young Hobbit who was always running off in search of Elves in the woods.”

Bilbo looked down at his tea, a bit ashamed.

“Who would stay out late, come home after dark. Trailing mud and twigs and fireflies. A young Hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find what was beyond the borders of the Shire.” His voice softened as he looked with compassion and understanding. “The world is not in your books and maps. It’s out there.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I can’t just go running off into the blue!” he sputtered. “I am a Baggins of Bag-End.”

“You are also a Took!” Gandalf insisted. “Did you know your great-great-great-great uncle Bullroarer Took was so large, he could ride a real horse?”

Bilbo looked up with hopeful eyes. “Yes.”

“Yes, well he could! In the Battle of Green Fields, he charged the Goblin ranks. He swung his club so hard it knocked the Goblin head’s clean off! It sailed 100 yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. And thus, the battle was won.” He smirked to himself but forced himself to stay serious. “And the game of golf invented at the same time.”

Bilbo chuckled to himself, and looked to her, who was smiling ear to ear at the story. She noticed and gave him a wink, but it felt more heartfelt than the last. “I do believe you made that up.”

“Well, all good stories deserve some embellishment. You’ll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back.”

The air of the room grew heavy, and the question he was reaching to say made the tea go cold. “Can you promise I will come back?”

Gandalf hesitated. She had to admit, he was never straight forward, and he often omitted important details, but he never lied. “No,” he answered. “And if you do… you will not be the same.”

Bilbo’s face fell, and he set his untouched mug on the coffee table. “That’s what I thought. Sorry, Gandalf, I can’t sign up for this. You’ve got the wrong Hobbit.”

Gandalf nodded, clearly disappointed, but left Bilbo to his quiet.

Y/N stood as well but paused on leaving the room. “You know, there’s a story about a Man who laid on his death bed, with his wife and children by his side. The wife says, ‘Is there anything you regret, my darling?’ and the Man replies, ‘I don’t remember what I wanted to do in order to regret not doing them.’” He didn’t look at her, but she could tell he was listening.

“And if changing is what you fear most, then I must remind you don’t need to change, but the world around you will. One day, you will look up from your books and tea and crocheting, and the world looking back won’t recognize you, and you it. Perhaps the only way to accept the inevitable is to join it in its making.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a silent comfort, and took her leave.

On her way out, she overheard a conversation between Thorin and Balin. While she never means to listen to private talks, she was never good at pulling herself away.

“There are a few warriors among us,” Thorin said, trying to comfort his friend.

Balin scoffed. “Old warriors.”

“I would take each and every one of these Dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills, for when I called upon them: they answered. Loyalty. Honor. A willing heart… I can ask no more than that.”

She cursed herself a bit, but in this light Thorin was not as brutish as she had pegged him to be. Instead, he was kind and understanding, offering hope to these hopeless Dwarves. She softened a bit, and considered that his comment, however rude and insensitive it was, was coming from a kind place.

“You don’t have to do this,” Balin went on, sounding a bit like he was trying to persuade his leader. “You have a choice. You’ve done honorably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains. A life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor.”

Thorin sighed, and she could hear him walked softly back and forth. “From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me,” he urged, sounding more desperate and passionate. “They dreamt of the day when Dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin… not for me.”

“Then we are with you, laddie. We will see it done.”

Before she could make herself scarce, Balin walked past her, giving her a surprised but realizing look. And then Thorin nearly bumped into her.

It was obvious of her position of what she was doing. She didn’t even bother making eye contact as she could feel the daggers he was staring into her head. “Forgive me,” she apologized. “I did not mean to listen.”

“This impression you are making for yourself is not a very high one.”

She bit her cheek to stop from saying something rash and reminded herself how she felt just a few moments ago. “I know. I reacted to your words without first considering the motivation behind them. While I do not agree with your logic, I understand the compassion that drove you to say what you said. I am sorry for addressing the issue in front of your companions.

“But I want to say that, like it or not, I am more hired by Gandalf than I am by you. I am joining you on regaining your homeland, and your throne.”

“Your regret is quickly fading as you continue,” he growled.

She looked up, with a scowl on her face. “I am here to help you.”

“I did not ask for your help.”

“I am loyal,” she insisted. “What of what you said just a moment ago? That you were honored by those who came to your call? For I am one of those hearts willing to pledge service to this cause!”

His face darkened, as if he, too, was able to suck the light from a room. “How dare you use words spoken in confidence against me. What do you know of loyalty?” He demanded, taking another step. “You, orphan Hobbit, Wizard-apprentice, Elf conspirator? You’ve no home in which to pledge to.”

It struck deep, hitting her darkest insecurity. But if he was an axe, she was an arrow, and willing to strike right at his heart. “And this journey is to happen because you have a home? You’re a king with no throne on which to sit, no gold on which to count, and no land on which to rule. If my pledge if nothing, so is your word.”

She went too far. She showed no mercy to his home, birthright, standing, and honor. There was nothing she did not disrespect. But she only felt satisfaction. He stepped that line first, and she’d journey any place anyone dared cross first. Thorin walked closer, and her back hit the wall as she was cornered. “I don’t know what you think you can accomplish coming in here and offering peace while making demands. Disrespecting me in such a way after begging for a spot in my company. Whether it for me, Gandalf, or the treasure in the Erebor halls; I do not care. This lot will welcome you, allow you what you wish, but I am not so easily seduced.”

Her breath hitched in her throat.

Thorin moved back a bit, an angry expression still across his face. “What?”

Y/N’s face flushed red, and her ears felt hot. “I’ve, um… never had a man be this close.” Perhaps it was the embarrassment, or how his rage seeped through his skin, but the air around her grew thick, until she could hardly bring herself her breath.

He raised a brow, looking at his hands and her eyes, which were darting at everything except him. Somewhere in his speech he had placed his hands on each side of her head, blocking her in with very little room to move. He quickly pulled away as she sharply exhaled. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to…”

She caught her breath. She knew it was wise to move on to prevent further discourse, but she couldn’t stop herself from saying one last thing. “I do not distract men, Master Dwarf. But that is a fine excuse for less-than-polite behavior shoved my way.”

As she went to walk away, a hand grabbed her upper arm. “Please--”

She yanked away, as if she was burned. “Do not touch me!” she hissed, thinking how lucky he was she did not have her blades on her person.

“I’m sorry--”

“All men are sorry when their actions are no longer tolerated. It’s not called remorse; it’s called weaponized guilt.” And with her final word, she walked away.

After the Dwarves had gather by the lit fireplace, and she had a moment to come down from her anger, Y/N stood in the entryway.

The Dwarves, who must’ve been used to song and dance to pass the evenings, began to sing of the night Smaug took their home.

The choir was unlike any Y/N had heard before. The songs sung by the Elves were often higher pitched should they ever sang at all. They often opted for instrumental pieces to accompany dinner, but never of cheer like the one displayed earlier that night. But this was a somber song, with low voices and baritone pitches. It was unlike the graceful songs of the Elves, but it was beautiful.

"Far over,” Y/N sang, after the Dwarves had stopped. “The misty mountains grim.” They looked up to her, shocked by her addition to their reminiscing moment. “To dungeons deep, and cavern dim. We must away, ‘ere break of day. To win our harps and gold from him.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: Fierce Affirming Sight

Word Count: 8,948 words

Warnings: Mentions of violence (in a story), mentions of trolls eating people, Thorin being stubborn, Gandalf being stubborn.

**

“I think the Dwarves are going to sleep in the main room,” Gandalf told her, watching as she wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and fasten the loops tight. “Should you join us, you’ll have to be used sleeping in such close quarters with others.”

“I am not welcomed here, Gandalf,” she replied, her tired voice slipping through. She spoke lowly, considering that some eyes were already shut and resting in just the other room. “I will journey with you, as you called to me for a reason, but I cannot rejoin this… this society you want for me. They do not want me. And I’d rather not give more reason upon the growing annoyance and hatred.”

She didn’t allow Gandalf to protest, and instead pulled the door open and hurriedly tried to block the blowing of the cool summer breeze. “Forgive me, Gandalf, but perhaps I should enjoy my last night alone before the ruthlessness of Dwarves becomes my only company for this next year.” And with that, she disappeared into the Shire, and began to make her way back to Chamomile and her dim fire.

When she had gone, Gandalf let loose a sigh, rubbing his beard in a contemplative manner. He looked up to see Thorin sitting in an armchair, arms crossed, and eyes fixated on the wizard.

“I will not yet tell you to let go of this hatred,” Gandalf began, eyes serious and still. “But may this be the first and last time your emotions harm someone standing too close to the real person you mean to hurt.”

Thorin turned away, scoffing. “I’ve no doubt of her skills, but close quarters in such times can lead to situations we must avoid.”

“Dwarves are chivalrous folk. It should sadden your ancestors to hear you would allow such behavior and place blame on the recipient.” And then Gandalf left too, realizing the room was far too filled with stubbornness and pride to be allowed to sleep in.

The next day came swiftly. Y/N woke before the sun had risen, with only a sliver of the morning light peaking over the horizon. She hadn’t even lit the fire last night. She just collapsed on her cot and let herself sleep the less-than-expected night away. But now was no time to think or dwell on the words of a bitter king. It was time for an adventure, her favorite, and no one was going to ruin that for her.

She packed Chamomile tightly, feeding a morning sugar cube as thanks, and saddled up to meet the party at the edge of the Shire, where Gandalf had stationed his own horse.

Y/N did her best to ignore the looks she was receiving from the Hobbits that had risen to start their morning chores. But it was difficult. As much as she wanted to convince herself that the onslaught of Gandalf remarks about her being a Hobbit, and her replies to saying she was only technically, somewhere deep down she longed for such a community to call her own.

No one, not even her magical guardian, could tell her what became of her parents. Sure, she wasn’t ignorant and knew that they had died a death leaving her here, but the question was not “Why had they died?” but was “Why had they left?” Here, in Bag End, was the Hobbit home. What had happened that drove them from their hearths and halls and happiness? Gandalf insisted it was a hereditary need for adventure. But deep down, Y/N knew that if there was anything Hobbits loved more than the same, it was their unforgiving nature of the different.

And with the Shire’s very hills eyeing her, watching her as children watch fish and parents watch merchants. As an outsider, and something to be cautious of.

“Good morning, Miss Hobbit!” Bofur called, knocking her from her trance of thoughts.

Everyone was there, readying their ponies and packs. Some looked very tired, and others looked very skittish. She sympathized with them, for her own skin seemed to be crawling and trying to drag her away with it.

“Good morning, Master Bofur. I hope your rest was fulfilling.”

He placed his gloved hand to his chest, nodding graciously. “You asking has made any worry melt away.”

She laughed and trotted up to where Gandalf sat upon his own horse.

Before she could reach him, Thorin outstretched a hand through her path, stopping her in her tracks. She looked to him, trying to keep her face as simple and plain, hiding the already building rage in her chest. “Good morning, Master Oakenshield.”

He nodded, looking at what she was wearing. “Will… this be sufficient for the journey?”

“Pardon?” Y/N searched for what he was implying but could not think of it. “Could you elaborate?”

He reached out and grabbed the hem of her cloak, which rested on the hind of her pony. “I mean, this is very fine silk and wool. This journey will quickly sap any comfort we hold. Are you prepared to have it ruined?”

She assumed he was trying to scare her, and it only caused her to grin very wide.

He raised a brow. “What is it?”

Without a word, she lifted the side he was not on, revealing a large mud spot that had already stained the fabric. She had gotten it on the first night of her journey, when Chamomile was startled and threw her into the mud. She had tried her best to clean it, but it was still useful, so she did not worry much when the round spot of muddy blue was still there.

“Thank you for your concern, sir. But I am very aware of what life without home is like. For I was born in it.” She nodded her head, a bow that she could muster. “Good morning.”

Gandalf looked rather displeased, and a bit worried. When he saw her approach, he barely attempted to hide his emotions. “Ah, good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” she answered, letting the reigns rest in her lap. “Do you think he shall be joining us?”

“Joining us?” mocked the bald Dwarf, with many tattoos. “I bet a pouch that we don’t see him again.”

Y/N and Gandalf raised a brow and shared a knowing look with one another. “I’ll take those odds,” the wizard replied.

She shook her head, letting the curls near her ears shake. “Shall you start gambling so early in the morning?”

“Were you not the one who got us banned from Spring Feast due to placing bets on the musicians playing wrong notes?”

“Certainly not. I remember the ban being in response to you flicking your fingers and making the flutist play wrong.”

Gandalf chuckled, nodding happily at the memory.

Y/N turned around, making eye contact with a Dwarf, who was challenging her on if the Hobbit would show. She nodded, accepting the odds, and turned back round. “But perhaps I should see if my skills have increased since our last try.”

Gandalf began leading the way, and the party followed. Should they leave the Shire without their burglar then they should know which side won. But just as the ponies were about to step onto the traveler’s path, saying goodbye to the Hobbit’s home, they heard a voice calling out to them.

“Wait! Wait!” it called.

Everyone halted their steeds and saw a dressed and packed Bilbo Baggins sprinting across the hills down to meet them at the Shire’s end. Bilbo ran to Balin’s side, panting and waving the contract to him. “I signed it.”

The Dwarf looked over the paperwork, making sure that everything was signed and initialed correctly. “Everything appears to be in order,” he confirmed, shaking the Hobbit’s hand. “Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thorin rolled his eyes, but nodded, nonetheless. “Give him a pony.”

Bilbo gave an incredulous look. “No, no, no, no. That…that won’t be necessary.” He tried to match the pace of the animals, as everyone began to move once more. “Thank you. I’m sure I can keep up on foot. Yeah, I…I’ve done my fair share of walking holidays, you know? Even got as far as Frog Morton once.” The last word was ended on an exclaim of surprise, as two Dwarves on either side of him lifted him up and place him on one of the bag ponies in the middle.

Bilbo looked very displeased, holding the reins but with his head back, making his chin disappear into his neck.

One of the Dwarves began to laugh. “Come on, Nori! Pay up!”

A few groaned, and soon bags of coins were being tossed back and forth between the wagering members. Bilbo watched them fly, looking for a sort of explanation. “What’s that about?” he asked, after Y/N and Gandalf had let him trot alongside them.

“Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you’d turn up. Most of them bet that you wouldn’t.”

He looked a bit sheepish. “And what did you think?”

Gandalf stroked his beard. “Well…” Suddenly, a pouch flew to his, and he caught it with a mischievous smile. “My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second.”

“And what of you, Miss?”

She turned around, letting the cloak twirl with her, as a small bag of coppers came her way. She caught it with both hands, giggling to herself as she joined it in her belt, alongside her own money. “Well, even I cannot explain the desire in my blood. Perhaps you and I are alike in many ways to come.”

Bilbo rubbed his neck, smiling sheepishly, before sniffling out a sneeze. He apologized quickly. “Oh, it’s horsehair,” he explained, not that Y/N minded. “Having a reaction. Uh…wait, wait.” He used both hands to pat his jacket and pockets, before raising a hand. “Stop! Stop! We have to turn around.”

Gandalf rolled his eyes but stopped anyway. “What on earth is the matter?”

“I forgot my handkerchief.” He spoke with no shame, but the company only gave him a laugh. There was no sympathy to be shared, which she wondered how he expected any after the display of his home and dishware last night.

“Here! Use this.”

Bofur threw a semi-wet rag at Bilbo, that he held away from his body with two fingers. His face was twisted in displeasure, and Y/N could not blame him.

Oakenshield was already growing impatient, as they’ve been stopped twice now before the journey had even really begun. “Move on!” he ordered, and he moved as if he would not stop should even a Dwarf fall.

Despite how entirely unappealing watching a grown Hobbit look so heartbroken over his lack of handkerchief, she reached into her sleeve and produce a white one of her own. “Here you are, Master Hobbit,” she said, a bit quietly. “You may keep that one. I’ve plenty more in my bed and board of study.”

Bilbo thanked her, quickly wiping his face, and tucking the cloth in his pocket.

“You’ll have to manage without pocket handkerchiefs, and a good many other things, Bilbo Baggins, before we reach our journey’s end,” the wizard instructed. “You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire. But home is now behind you. The world is ahead.”

Bilbo seemed to blanch at the words, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

Y/N shot a look at Gandalf. “Oh, don’t scared the chap now,” she chastised. “Worry not, Master Baggins. Your home will never be gone. It is just that once you see this world, your place of belonging will feel much bigger.”

Night had fallen quicker than anticipated. The company tied their ponies and horse to a range of trees that lined a rock overpass. Dinner was had in joyous laughter, much like the night before. Y/N still had yet to allow herself to take place in the merriment, but she enjoyed listening to the stories and jokes they were sharing in her company.

When the food was finished, and everyone had their fill, many dozed off where they sat. She watched as Thorin found a spot up against the rock and laid his head back to rest. Bilbo not so subtly tiptoed over to his pony, holding an apple in his hand. He fed her, whispering little praises to her. It was quite sweet, given his displeasure of her just hours before. But the moment was quickly moment when a screech let loose into the night, from far into the night.

“What was that?” Bilbo demanded, and Y/N had to admit that even she did not know what it was.

Fili and Kili looked to each other, and then back to Bilbo, with serious looks on their faces. “Orcs.”

“Orcs?” she and Bilbo asked in unison. The three looked to her, a bit shocked to hear her speak, let alone with a slight fear in her voice.

Thorin woke to the word of such a creature and looked quickly to his nephews.

“Throat-cutters,” Fili began, stalking around Bilbo. “There'll be dozens of them out there.”

“The lone-lands are crawling with them,” Kili continued, popping his head from behind Y/N. She tried to calm her nerves. However, even not knowing much of such beings, she knew they were created by dark forces to do nothing but spread plague and destruction. “They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood.”

Bilbo and she gulped at the idea, the former rubbing his neck and the latter grabbing onto the handle of her dagger to ease herself. But Kili and Fili began to laugh, and Y/N quickly glared at being the recipient of a ghost story. Even more so at herself for falling for it.

“You think that's funny?” Thorin demanded, standing, and moving to his kin. “You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?”

They both immediately looked guilty, staring at the ground. “We didn’t mean anything by it.”

He scoffed. “No, you didn’t. You know nothing of the world.” He walked away, looking angrier with every step.

Balin, who had witnessed the whole thing, gave a patient grin. “Don’t mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs.”

The four of them gathered around the fire, listen to the old Dwarves tale.

“After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first.”

Y/N let out a gasp, and immediately turned red. “Forgive me. I’m quite fond of stories and history.” Kili laughed as she tried to cover her face. “Forgive me, Master Balin. Please continue.”

He gave a forgiving smile. “Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs, led by the most vile of all their race: Azog the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the king.

He shook his head, and it was clear that such a tragedy still stung and hurt after all these years. “Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing. Taken prisoner or killed; we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us. That is when I saw him. A young Dwarf prince facing down the pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe. His armor rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield.”

“That is how he got his alias, isn’t it?” she asked, nearly on the edge of her seat. “Oakenshield. His name given from battle.”

“Aye, lass. And Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the Orcs back. And our enemy had been defeated.” His melancholic smile faded. “But there was no feast nor song that night for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived.” He motioned to the sleeping Dwarves, and a heavy weight fell on Y/N’s chest. “And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call king.”

She sighed, feeling at peace with the story’s end. “That is quite admirable,” she stated, much to the surprise of the three she spoke to. “I’ve never had a king. Well, a king I answered to. But I’m sure seeing such a sight would make anyone loyal. I can see why he has spoken highly of this lot.”

“And the Pale Orc?” Bilbo asked quickly, a bit apologetic at his outburst. “What happened to him?”

Thorin appeared from the shadows, casting his large frame against the light of the flames. “He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago.” It was clear he wanted the talk of such painful memories to cease, even if it was revering him at the end. He returned to his spot against the stone, trying to fall asleep sitting up and ready at a moment’s notice.

“We should take leave,” Y/N finally said in the moment of silence. “We will be up at dawn, and the nights this season are short.”

“I agree. Perhaps we shall have more comforting stories to share in the morning,” Balin added, patting his knees, and sliding onto his cot in front of him.

The other agreed and turned in as well.

Y/N left the nest of Dwarves and found her own pack near the edge of the wood. She unfurled the mat that was once tied to the hind of Chamomile, grabbing her cloak to pull over her body as a makeshift blanket.

“You shouldn’t sleep so close to an opening.”

She quickly looked up to see Thorin looking over to her. He was maybe twenty feet from her, his back still flesh to the rock.

“One would rather I sleep next to a cliff?” she joked, attempting to lie back down.

“I’m serious,” he spoke again, a mix of stern and soft. “While my nephews have an affiliation for pranks; they were not wrong of the start. Orcs can wander these lands, as well as other creatures that stalk the night.”

She sat up, realizing this wasn’t an argument she could have while laying. “You can’t be suggesting that I sleep among… the Dwarves.” Just saying it caused her voice to falter and fall to a whisper. She noticed the way Thorin was studying her face, and she quickly cleared her throat, brushing strands of hair from her face. “Because… because I’m sure to suffocate from the lack of air.”

She didn’t sound very convincing, and he wasn’t very convinced. It also was becoming clear that this was a conversation she could not have when fighting sleep.

Holding up a hand, to stop a foolish king from speaking, she stood up. Keeping her silencing hand raised, she used the other to grab the corner of her mat and pull it up on to the same landing Thorin was on. She kept distance and positioned her feet to face him rather than her head. “Permissible?”

Thorin took a closed hand and knocked the stone, signifying how sturdy it was. “Aye. I’ll take first watch.”

“Thank you. Good night, Master Oakenshield.”

He nodded, and Y/N could finally allow herself to fall asleep.

Despite the nights being shorter, Y/N arose before the dawn again, and before the sun’s sliver had even begun to raise. However, the stars were beginning to fade from an incoming light, and she concluded that it was still an hour or so until the sunrise.

Rubbing her face, trying to wipe the sleep from her eyes, she rose. Her back cracked when she stood, twisting to get any knots out. Despite her comfort on her three-week journey to the Shire, she had never slept on rock. Even the hardest of the earth and clay was much more comfortable compared to the sleep she endured that night.

Up the rocky cliff, Thorin leaned on his own shoulder, snoring softly into his coat. When he wasn’t awake, he didn’t look so angry. It was almost enough to forget that she was still pissed at him. She trusted that he kept his first watch but noticed none of the other Dwarves were awake. Someone here fell asleep, she giggled to herself.

She dropped her cloak, letting it sit on her cot. Then she looked at the embers from last night and her stomach grumbled. Despite her renouncing her Hobbit ways, she was still of blood and her stomach was often asking for multiple meals. While she wouldn’t be having tea or anything of the sorts, she still started to the river nearby to catch breakfast.

Her net was attached to her hip, and she disconnected it to tie it to a tree on opposite sides of the fall. She continued to hold the other end, and dip her now rolled legs into the stream of cold morning water. It was only a moment before the morning salmon began their leap and landed blindly into their trap.

Y/N decided to catch enough for Dwarves to have a share as well, and soon began her wet walk back to the camp. The light of dawn had yet to show itself, and she made quick work of gutting and cleaning everything. Then she started back up the fire and began to cook.

“Shoot, I need more wood,” she muttered, making quick work to grab some kindling to help keep the heat and flame.

She saw the sun rise as a bundle was gathered in her arms, and decided it was plenty for just a morning bake. Her walk back was soon accompanied by the shouting of Dwarves. “Now, what are they going on about now?”

“I don’t know, Uncle!” Fili cried, sounding annoyed.

“Was anyone keeping watch towards the morning?” Thorin demanded.

“That was Oin!”

“Nay, it was Bofur!”

“Oh, don’t even try! It was Bombur’s turn!”

“Well, she couldn’t have just vanished in thin air!”

Y/N stopped dead in her tracks. ‘Oh, those foolish men are speaking of me.’

“There is a fire,” Bilbo pointed out, trying to be the voice of reason. “So clearly, she just went to the wood for… a moment.”

“She left her weapons here,” Kili said, and she saw his head pop through the foliage and poke at her things.

Thorin was the first the call attention, banging his mug against the stone wall. “Just to be clear; we identified the sounds of Orcs last night, the morning watcher fell asleep on duty, and our Hobbit maiden wandered off like her Wizard father and no one knows where she is?” No one said a word, staring shamefully at their feet. He grabbed his sword and strapped it to his waist. “I need volunteers to go look for her.”

Deciding to put an end to the speculation and bickering, she took quick steps to cut through the edge of the forest. “Sirs, I’m right here.”

They all turned, and she suddenly realized having the eyes of 14 people was quite too many.

Thorin had a hard stare, his fists clenching at his sides and on the hilt of his blade. “Where were you?” he demanded, voice low.

With a brow raised, she jumbled the sticks in her arms and nodded her head to the fire. “Breakfast.”

Every wide eye stare was replaced by hungry and happy eyes.

She had finished cooking and serving the fish and sat on her mat as the lot began eating for the day ahead. Thorin still looked miffed, but she tried her best to ignore it. It was rather easy when the Dwarves would pass by her, giving thanks to a delicious start to the day.

As the company began packing, Y/N grabbed one of her daggers and made way to the wood.

“Where are you going?” Thorin asked, sounding rather annoyed.

“To the bathroom, Master Dwarf,” she called back, not turning around. “Surely you wouldn’t want to chaperone.”

The company laughed after her, leaving Thorin fuming in his seat.

Gandalf had joined the breakfast, which Y/N had only assumed. Despite his refutes he was quite fond of a good meal. The old wizard turned to the young king, who was about to turn red from holding in an outburst. “Are you getting along with the company?” he asked, with humor in his voice.

Thorin scoffed, letting his red face turn back to its normal color. “It is no wonder she is your child,” he said. “She wanders about as much as you do.”

“Well, I often had her in classrooms and studies for her life. She is eager to see what’s beyond.”

Thorin shook his head. “I’ve seen what’s beyond, and only those who are naïve should want to see it.”

When everyone was ready, the company set out for another long day of travelling. It was not long before heavy storm clouds began to roll across the horizon, settling over the party and began to rain heavy drops in fast succession.

Despite the silken cloak soaking, once wet the drops rolled off rather easily, and the wool trim underneath kept her rather dry. The same could not be said for everyone. Some had hats and hoods and cloaks, others had nothing and simply sat in the downpour. One being Bilbo, who look positively pitiful, and another Thorin, who was stoic to the point it seemed he barely noticed a shift in wind, let alone the storm.

Chatter had died about ten minutes into the onslaught and continued for the hour it had been since it started.

Dori was the first to break the silence, clearly miffed by the conditions. “Here, Mister Gandalf? Can’t you do something about this deluge?” he called ahead.

“Yes, Gandalf,” Y/N teased, a smirk pulling at her lips. “Oh, can’t you do something about the horrid rain?”

He shot a look in response and turned his head a bit to call back. “It is raining, Master Dwarf. And it will continue to rain until the rain is done!” He shook his head, annoyed at being asked such a task. “If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.”

“Are there any?” Bilbo asked, trotting close by.

“What?”

“Other wizards?”

“There are five us,” Gandalf began, and Y/N sensed he was much happy with this topic of conversation than the previous. “The greatest of our order is Saruman, The White. Then there are the two Blue Wizards.” He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He closed it, puzzled, and started again. “Do you know, I’ve quite forgotten their names.”

“You have me memorize the different mushroom and fungi native to the Blue Mountains, but forget two names of your kin?” Y/N demanded, laughing. “What was that bit of not being senile? Their names are Alatar and Pallando.”

Bilbo nodded, taking in the information. “And who is the fifth?”

“Well, that would be Radagast, The Brown.”

“Is he a great wizard or is he…more like you?”

Gandalf looked like he had been wounded. Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but Gandalf held up a hand, signaling her to contain herself.

“I think he’s a very great wizard, in his own way,” he replied, deciding to be patient with the Hobbit. “He’s a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forestlands to the East, and a good thing too, for always evil will look to find a foothold in this world.”

“Gandalf speaks too modestly of his friend,” she interjected, ignoring the guidance her guardian was trying to give her. “He is a powerful herbalist. His skill is trained for protection of all living things. Perhaps in the eyes of Saruman this does not qualify him as great, but the world has far too many ‘Greats’ I should say.”

Bilbo shifted, but he didn’t seem to be retreating from the conversation. “If he is not the Great, what should you have him?”

Y/N pulled back her hood, the rain flying into her face in a cool breeze and brushing her curly locs behind her. She extended her hands out, feeling the storm on her skin, and relishing in the cool chills running up and down spine. “He is Good.”

She looked behind her, ignoring the strange stare Bilbo was giving her, and notice Thorin’s eyes locked on her back. When she caught him staring he turned away, and she pulled her pony to a stop and then start again at his side. “Are you spying on me, Master Dwarf?” she asked, light teasing in her voice.

“Not at all. You’re just ahead of me.”

“You know, you look rather sad all wet in the rain.”

“There are worse things than a little drizzle.” Thunder sounded in the distance, and she smirked. “There are still worse things.”

She pulled another white square cloth with embroidered edges out from the dry pocket of her vest. “Do you need a handkerchief?”

He glanced over, raising a brow. “No, thank you.”

“Well, just in case.” She leaned over, ignoring his protests, and laid it on his thigh. The rain began to clear, and she bowed her head. “Enjoy your drizzle, Master Dwarf.”

With the new warming light, and a clear sky, the company parted from the forest path and into a slight clearing. Thorin immediately jumped from his pony, looking at the west to the sun beginning to set.

“We’ll camp here for the night,” he said, and the others began to unpack, following his lead. “Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them.”

The nephews groaned at such a task, and Y/N wondered if it was just punishment for the trick, they tried to pull the previous evening.

But no matter. She followed stead as well, handing the reins to Kili when he was able. He gave a quick grin. “I’ll keep her safe for you.”

“Thank you, Master Dwarf.”

“You may call me Kili, Miss Hobbit.”

She tutted her tongue against her teeth. “Why, such familiarities so soon? What should my ladies say?”

“I’m not sure about your ladies,” he chuckled, tying Chamomile to a long fence post. “But Dwarves in battle form quick bonds.”

“I’d hardly call us in battle yet.”

“Perhaps, but what say you if battle should dawn upon us? Would you call me by my name then?”

She thought for a moment, considering his question. Then she gave a curtsey, her eyes dazzling with a mischievous nature. “If it shall save you, I’ll be sure to say it a hundred times over.”

“But I’ve told you already. I will not go near that place!”

The banter was interrupted by Gandalf and Thorin fighting once more.

“Why not?” the wizard demanded, walking after the young king. “The Elves could help us, we could get food, rest, advice.”

Thorin scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I do not need their advice.”

“We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us—”

“Help?” He was angry now. A fire set ablaze in his eyes, with a cold fury over his face. “A dragon attacks Erebor. What help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing! You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father.”

“You are neither of them,” Gandalf insisted. “I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past.”

“I did not know they were yours to keep.”

The wizard looked ready to steal the light from the very sun. He huffed quickly, before marching away and towards the edge of the wood.

Y/N left her place near Kili and ran to him. “Where are you going?”

“To seek the company of the only one around here who’s got any sense.”

“Who’s that?” Bilbo cried, following as well.

“Myself, mister Baggins! I’ve had enough of Dwarves for one day.”

Y/N stopped dead in her tracks, watching as her guardian walked away once more. It was a pattern at this point. “When will you return?” But he did not answer her.

The camp’s eyes were on her as she turned around slowly, refusing to meet the gaze of anyone else. Bilbo went to say something, but she shook her head. She turned to Thorin, who was just as pissed as she was. “Must everything be a fight?” she demanded.

“When you have your own company, you can let them walk all over you if that’s what you wish,” he replied, not even giving her the decency to look her in the eye.

“Don’t mistake people walking by your side as walking over you. Continue that attitude and you’ll find yourself walking alone.” She stomped off, shrugging off those who reached for her.

Thorin scoffed, watching her leave. “Come on Bombur, we’re hungry.”

Bilbo looked around, slightly frantic. “Is he coming back?” he asked Bofur, who merely shook his head and shrugged.

Irony was not lost on the Dwarves, who watched her stomp away and wander till nightfall, in a tantrum of sorts against her wizard (who had too stomped away in a tantrum to wander). In lulling conversation, they could hear thumps from the wood, of knives imbedding into trees, followed by the cursing when they bounced off the bark.

Bilbo was the first to try and find her, part of him assuming that Hobbit nature would break through the wizard nurture, and she would need some sort of help getting back. Thorin prevented him from leaving camp. “When she grows up, she’ll be back. Or she and that tiresome wizard will be out of our hair.”

Fili and Kili attempted to sneak away to find her when dusk was settling in and she still hadn’t returned, but—to their surprise—Balin was the one to stop them. “Lads, I know you’re worried, and I won’t stop you from doing that, but you’re forgetting something. She’s a lady.”

Fili, who tended to be the more responsible one of the two, shook his head. “Balin, we’re thinking precisely of that. Who knows what’s out there?”

“Exactly! What if she’s gotten lost?”

“She’s not lost,” he reassured them. “And while we should never treat her as anything less than equal in our company, there are still silent rules of respect to be followed when a woman is in our midst.”

“What’s that?”

“You never follow a lady into the woods. Never sneak up on her, and never cause her fear or harm.”

Kili scoffed, offended by the accusation. “Are you suggesting we’re going in there to spook her?”

“Or worse?”

Balin shook his head, hands up in defense. “Nothing of the sort! But she doesn’t know that. She’s wanted to be alone and even accidentally sneaking up on her can cause friction.” His eyes trailed over to Thorin, who was still silent and angry over his row with Gandalf. “And for her sake and ours, we need to avoid that.”

Meanwhile, she muttered an angry word with every strike, in the darkness of the wood. “Son of a—no—pain in my—AGH!” Her dagger struck a trunk, and inch into the wood, and she ripped a sizeable chunk from the tree when she retrieved it. “That stubborn Dwarf! How dare he? Telling me what to do! With his stupid face and attitude and hair!”

She lined up another shot, puffing a curl out of her face. “I’m Oakenshield and I have perfect hair,” she mocked, lowering her voice. “I’m Oakenshield and I hate Elves. Blah blah, I want everything to be harder. Blah blah, I want to brood and sulk till Durin’s Day is upon us.” She pictured his expression when she reeled her arm back, hacking at the same spot of the tree. “Unnecessary conflict makes me happy, and then the happiness brings me anger. Blah blah, I’m going to get in her face and—” The image in her mind shifted suddenly, throwing her off balance as the handle of the blade clunked the tree and bounced back.

Her own mind caught her by surprise, and heat rose up from her neck and through her ears. His face. His voice. His intense stare.

“Oh, COME ON!” she screamed, slashing the nearest bush. “No! Absolutely not! Oakenshield, you have crossed the line!”

The line her crossed was, of course, completely newly drawn, and, also, not actually crossed by the Dwarven king. But, it mattered not to her. While she prided herself in being unlike her Hobbiton race, part of the pride came from her sheer focus of the arts and battle strategies, rather than typical Hobbit hobbies, like breakfast, second breakfast, brunch, elevensies, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, supper, and dessert. Not to mention, she turned her nose up to marriage, love, and courtship. She wasn’t against the idea, but she was almost exclusively around Elves, and neither of the two had any interest in the other.

That all is to say, it is quite easy to ignore a very natural feeling (or feel it hardly at all) when there is no… suitable material, she would put it politely.

Much to her dismay, this was no longer the case, and would continue to not be the case for the next several months. The idea made her burn with rage.

When she returned, dinner was filled with stories and jokes once more, but Y/N could not bring herself to laugh at them the way she did previously. While the soup was delicious, and she gave compliments to the chef, she could bring herself to finish the bowl.

“Are you alright, lass?” Balin questioned, when he noticed her tossing the rest out to pasture.

“Hm? Oh, yes yes, I’m quite fine, Master Balin. I had…” She eyed Thorin from her seat, quickly breathing in and out his features, “…quite a large breakfast this morning.” The old Dwarf didn’t seem to believe her, but she quickly tried to make herself scarce. “Evenings like these in this dry heat are always so chilly. I’ll collect some more wood to last the night.” And she hurried away.

She had picked up maybe two twigs when she had noticed a light in the distance. Her hand went to her daggers, safely holstered to her side, and crept quietly towards the source.

Couching behind an uprooted tree trunk, Fili, Kili, and Bilbo were sat, observing the creators of the new camp.

She tapped Fili on the shoulder, causing him to jump but quickly compose himself. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down to his side, hidden behind the tree. “Stay down.” He had pulled her in a way that made her back lay flesh to the log, and she could no longer see the creatures they were investigating.

“What is it?” Bilbo asked, sounding more curious than terrified.

“Trolls,” Kili replied, matter-of-factly.

“What?” Y/N whispered, bringing herself up to look. “Trolls do not live the wood. Perhaps it is something very Troll-like.” She peered over, watching as three large trolls gathered around a large pot and fire. “Oh, those are Trolls. How curious.”

Bilbo gasped. “He’s got Myrtle and Minty! I think they’re gonna eat them, we have to do something!”

Kili and Fili looked to each other, with Y/N in the middle switching back and forth between them. “Yes, you should. Mountain trolls are slow and stupid, and you’re so small. They’ll never see you.”

The Hobbit blanched, practically being sucked of his color. “Me?” They nodded. “Me?” They nodded again. “No. No. No.”

“It’s perfectly safe!” Kili insisted. “We are just going to bring Y/N back to camp.”

“What!?”

“We’ll be right behind you,” Fili went on, standing to a crouch and corralling the female Hobbit away. “If you run into trouble hoot twice like a barn owl, once like a brown owl.”

She looked incredulous, watching as Bilbo was left to defend the Trolls alone and she was herded off. “Master Dwarves; you can’t be serious of taking me back!”

“We’re going to alert the others so they can join and fight back,” Kili explained, a silly smile spreading his face.

“That does not explain why I had to join! Surely, I could have been useful to Bilbo, who’s never seen a Troll in his country life.”

Fili broke through the foliage and into the valley, where the other Dwarves were cleaning up their dishes. “Think of it as learning on the job.”

Y/N felt her face get hot. “Is this behavior I should be expecting for the continuation of this journey? I mean, we aren’t even a week in, and we’ve already sent a member to be cooked!”

“Only if he gets caught.” Kili winked. “And we believe in him.”

While Y/N didn’t think that Bilbo was incapable of staying out of sight, she also didn’t want to leave that chance so far out. “Well, we should tell Master Oakenshield of the situation.”

The Dwarves halted their steps to those around the fire and turned around with nervous looks. “Well, perhaps we needn’t tell our uncle,” Fili said in a low voice.

“Aye, it would only worry him!” Kili stammered.

“Oh, we are not going to kill half the party under the nose of the leader!” she hissed. “Forgive me, gentlemen, but I shall not see we lead these men to a hanging.”

She looked to see if they would push back, but to her surprise they let her walk to Thorin, who was preparing himself for a long night’s rest.

When she approached, he looked up but did not speak, simply returned to laying his blanket against the damp grass. “Master Oakenshield, there appears to be a situation.”

He raised a brow but did not give his attention again. “What kind of situation, Miss Hobbit.”

“Trolls have taken four of our ponies.” With this, he looked up quickly with a hard look against his eyes. “Bilbo has gone ahead to try and release them, but there are three and they are huge. Despite the slow nature of Trolls, they need not be smart to kill.”

Thorin looked past her, noticing how Fili and Kili were alerted the rest and they had already begun to gather their weapons. He must’ve seen the slight sense of pleading that was in her voice, because when he looked back, he sighed and stood, holding his hilt in his hand. “Very well. Show us the way.”

The company quietly crept through the woods, trying to be quick but light in their approach to the camp. They all waited around the perimeter when it was observed that Bilbo had been caught.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like the way it wriggles around!” the Troll cried, dropping Bilbo from his hand and into the dirt.

“What are you then? An oversized squirrel?”

Y/N stood to intervene, but Thorin held a hand to stop her from crossing into the light, shaking his head for her to wait.

“I’m a burglar…uh, Hobbit!”

“A ‘Burglar-Hobbit’?”

The third Troll moved in on him. “Can we cook him?”

“We can try!”

“He wouldn’t make more than a mouthful. Not when he’s skinned and boned!”

She felt her stomach turn listening to the ramblings of creatures ready to kill and feed. “Now?” she whispered, but Thorin shook his head.

“Perhaps there’s more Burglar-Hobbits ’round these parts.”

Thorin looked over and saw how she began to sweat.

“Might be enough for a pie! Grab him!” The Troll reached for Bilbo, who dodged out of the way. The others began to rapidly grab at him as well, all missing when he would duck under their hands.

“He’s too quick!” one shouted, frustrated.

“Gotcha! Are there any more of you little fellas hiding where you shouldn’t?”

Thorin had to physically restrain her this time, holding onto her belt to stop her from leaping over the logs and practically killing herself. He yanked her back, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back to his chest as he braced against the log. “I know you want to save him, but we need to wait for an opening,” he whispered directly in her ear.

She huffed, but ultimately nodded. The last thing she wanted was Bilbo to be hurt, and there was no way she could break away from Thorin now.

“No!” Bilbo replied, but he looked less and less confident.

“He’s lying!”

“I’m not!”

“Hold his toes over the fire. Make him squeal!”

Kili was the first to jump from the darkness, as Thorin and the others were unsuccessful of stopping him. He held his sword high and swept at the Troll’s leg, causing him to yelp in pain. “Drop him!” he shouted.

“You what?”

Kili held his sword in front of him, twitching his head. “I said, drop him.”

The Trolls looked at each other, and the one holding Bilbo tossed him at the Dwarf, causing them both to fall. At this, Thorin finally let go of her waist and motioned for the Dwarves to go to battle.

It was chaos. This was perhaps the first combat she had ever been in, not including hunting or sparring, and sighting against creatures ten times the size of her was something she had never done before. She slashed at hands that tried to grab at her, and feet that nearly stomped her. And while she would never admit it aloud, now she understood the protest to her weapon of choice. With creatures this size, her attacks were nothing more than deep paper cuts against the thick skin.

However, one Troll hand got too close for comfort, and she promptly slashed in an ‘X’, causing the tip of his finger to fall into the fire.

He howled in pain, and Y/N saw how it only made him furious. “Oh, gods,” she muttered disgusted.

The rousing all came to a quick stop when the Dwarves turned to see Bilbo being held by two of the Trolls, a hand on each limb.

“Bilbo!” Kili shouted, outraged.

“No!” Thorin pulled his nephew back by his shoulder, and Y/N realized it was to stop from either him or Bilbo from being killed instantly.

“Lay down your arms!” demanded the leader Troll. “Or we’ll rip his off!”

Bilbo looked terrified, and before Thorin could even give the signal, she dropped both daggers into the dirt. He looked through the corners of his eyes, and they all did the same.

Only moments later, many Dwarves were tied to the spicket, slow roasting over the fire, and the rest was stuffed in bags, with the ends tied at their necks.

“Don’t bother cooking ’em!” one shouted, watching the cook of the group turn the handle. “Let’s just sit on 'em and squash ’em into jelly!”

“They should be sauteed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage.” And he took some herbs and did just that.

“Oh, that does sound quite nice,” said the one who’s finger Y/N had chopped.

“Never mind the seasoning,” grumbled the leader, “we ain’t got all night! Dawn ain’t far away, let’s get a move on! I don’t fancy been turned to stone.”

Bilbo and she looked to each other, thinking fast at the information.

In a flash, Bilbo was at his feet, hopping over in his burlap sack. “Wait! You are making a terrible mistake.”

“You can’t reason with them, they’re half-wits!” Dori shouted from the fire.

“Half-wits? What does that make us?” Bofur joked.

“I meant with the…uh, with the…with the seasoning.”

“What?” Y/N exclaimed, as this was not the direction she had in mind.

The cook Troll looked curious. “What about the seasoning?”

“Well, have you smelt them? You’re gonna need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up!”

The Dwarves all protested, shouting angry remarks and trying to kick him down through their bags.

“What do you know about cooking dwarf?” shouted the impatient one.

The cook shooed him with his spoon. “Shut up, and let the…uh, Flurgerburbur-Hobbit talk.”

“Uh…the-the secret to cooking dwarf, is um…” He looked around; a bit frantic to figure out his secret.

“Yes? Come on.”

“It’s, uh…”

“Tell us the secret!”

Bilbo nodded. “Ye-yes, I’m telling you. The secret is…to…” He looked to Y/N, who was looking nodding her head towards the burlap bags, shaking a bit in her own. “To skin them first!”

“What!?” she shouted. She had meant to cook them with potatoes, hopefully sending the lot off to find some.

“What!?” agreed the rest of the company.

“Tom, get me filleting knife.”

“What a load of rubbish!” The shook his head, glancing to the horizon but finding it blocked by stone and trees. “I’ve eaten plenty with their skins on. Scoff ’em I say, boots and all!”

“He’s right!” said Tom, excitedly. He grabbed at Y/N, picking her up by her feet and into the air. Bilbo and a few of the Dwarves gasped, as she shouted and cried angrily. “Nothing wrong with a bit o’ raw Dwarf. Nice and crunchy.”

Bilbo shuffled feverishly. “Uh…not…not that one, she… she’s infected!”

Tom looked at her, shouted, “EW!” and promptly threw her back on the pile, landing next to Thorin at the top.

“Are you alright?” he whispered, sounding concerned.

She gasped for air, as the landing knocked it all from her lungs and whipped her head back onto the rock. For a moment all she saw were stars and bright lights clouding her vision. “I’m perfectly fine,” she wheezed, clutching her chest from inside her bag. He reached over as best as he could, steadying her from slipping anymore.

“You what?”

Bilbo nodded. “Yeah, she’s got worms in her…tubes.” Saying the last word caused him to wince at how horrid he sounded.

“Good, gods,” she muttered, disgusted by the imagery. Thorin side-eyed her, and she blushed as she shook her head very slightly, as to not be seen.

The Dwarves looked around confused, clearly believing what Bilbo was saying. They looked to Y/N, wondering how long she had worms, and she was so confused that she started to wonder how low as well.

“In-in fact, they all have. They’re infested with parasites, it’s a terrible business, I wouldn’t risk it, I really wouldn’t.”

Oin, hearing without his horn, began to shift. “Parasites? Did he say parasites?”

“Yeah, we don’t have parasites! You have parasites!”

All the Dwarves protested and shouted again, to which Y/N rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. “Gentlemen don’t you remember?” This caused them all to quiet. “When we got those parasites in our… tubes… and the medics informed us that we are all infected!”

They looked at her, confused.

“We’re infected, so that’s why we’re in the woods,” she continued, nudging Thorin with her shoulder. “Because we don’t want to infect anyone else?”

With the help from Thorin kicking at the pile, the Dwarves finally caught on.

Oin nodded. “I’ve got parasites as big as my arm!”

“Mine are the biggest parasites, I’ve got huge parasites!” Kili yelled, trying to explain how he practically was just parasite now.

“We’re riddled!” shouted Nori.

“Yes, I’m riddled!” added Ori.

“Yes, we are, badly!” cried Dori.

The leader Troll looked very angry. “What would you have us do then? Let ’em all go?”

Bilbo looked up to the sky and shrugged. “Well…”

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to. This little ferret is taking us for fools!”

“Ferret?” Bilbo and Y/N asked.

“Fools?” asked the cooked.

Suddenly, Gandalf appeared atop the stone boulders, where the light of the morning was peaking. “The dawn will take you all!”

“Who’s that?”

“No idea.”

“Can we eat him too?”

Gandalf brought down his staff, sending a crack through the stone, and breaking to reveal the rising sun.

The Trolls screeched in fear and pain, trying to shield the light form their eyes and bodies and running to hide in the wood. But it had already begun, as their skin started to harden and grey into rough stone. And it just a moment, three Troll statues stood around the fire.

The Dwarves cheered, save for Dwalin, who was still struggling against his bonds. “Oi, get your foot out of my back!”

Gandalf rushed to free the Dwarves from the fire first, and they in turn started untying the ropes around the necks of the pile.

“That was a nasty fall,” Dwalin said, quickly pulling the bag from Y/N’s shoulders and down to her feet. “How’s your head?”

She brought her hands to her neck, rubbing gently at the red parts. “Just a bit of an ache. Some blurriness. But I shall be fine.” She touched the crown of her skull and pulled her hand back, happy to see no red on her fingertips. Granted, it was still dim out. She winced nonetheless at the tender spot forming under her hair.

“Well, perhaps you’ve some Dwarf in your blood.”

She laughed, something she didn’t expect after what had taken place. “Because of my thick skull? That is certainly a pleasantness I’ve yet to be offered.” She walked to grab her daggers, returning them to their home in their sheaths.

“Are you having a laugh at me?”

“Of course not, Master Dwarf. In fact, they may be the first genuine compliment I’ve ever received.” She picked up his axe, using two hands, and offering it back to him. “You have my thanks.”

His eyes widened, and he took his weapon. “Aye…”

Thorin was speaking with Gandalf, as the company grabbed their weapons and loaded their ponies. “Where did you go to, if I may ask?”

Gandalf pointed outwards. “To look ahead.”

“What brought you back?”

Gandalf raised a brow. “Looking behind. Nasty business. Still, they all are in one piece.” He was speaking of the company.

“No thanks to your burglar,” he responded bitterly.

“He had the nous to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that.” At that, Thorin had nothing to say. Gandalf nodded, running a hand above the stone Trolls. “They must have come down from the Ettenmoors.”

Thorin shook his head in disbelief. “Since when the mountain trolls venture this far south?”

“Oh, not for an age. Not since a darker power ruled these lands.” They share a worried glance, but Y/N could tell that they recalled different events just based on what she knew about them. “They could not have moved in daylight,” concluded Gandalf.

“There must be a cave nearby.”

“Gandalf!” Y/N shouted, marching up to him in a fury. “You left.”

“I did, dear. I am sorry.”

“I was worried about you! I ought to smack that hat from your head!”

The Dwarves looked terrified, as to their knowledge Gandalf could smite her to nothing. But he only chuckled, noticing how her lower lip quivered and her hands were balled into tight fists. “I know. I am sorry.”

She took a deep breath, forcing any swelling tears to go back into her face. “You can’t go running off and leave me here to be eaten.”

“I won’t.” Gandalf gestured to Thorin, who was looking curiously at the dynamic. “Thorin here will protect you, as he will the rest of the company.”

“Yes, I saw firsthand his protection.” She curtsied him. “Thank you, Master Oakenshield. Without you the Dwarves may never have listened.”

He cleared his throat, looking away. “It was nothing.”

“Well, I thank you anyway. Now I must go extend my gratitude to a certain Hobbit that saved me.”

She went off to thank Bilbo, and Gandalf nudged his staff against Thorin’s leg. “She is quite the woman, is she not?”

Thorin watched at how she curtsied again, and Bilbo’s neck turned red. How she smiled at him, laughed with him, and bestowed her own highest honor, a kiss on his cheek. Bilbo’s face turned hot, as one hand went up to touch where her lips were.

Thorin grunted. “She is certainly something.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: And She’s A Lady

Word Count: 5,732 words

Warnings: Lindir, nudity (in a bath), Y/N’s ladies existing, alcohol use and consumption, Thorin being stubborn (but what’s new)

**

“Oh, what’s that stench!?” Bofur shouted, upon descending into the dark cave.

Y/N gagged but swallowed her disgust down. She held onto the wall as she stepped, pulling away to see the walls were cold and wet. “And the walls chilled.”

Gandalf turned around and stifled a laugh. “It’s a Troll hoard,” he tried to explain, but in that way that made Y/N frustrated. “Be careful what you touch.”

“Oh, good gods!” Bofur laughed as she flailed her arm about, trying to get the liquid off her fingers. “I’ve enough with Trolls and their disgusting habits.”

“And yet you journey with us lot?” Bofur asked.

“Oh, should the company be anything like this than I shouldn’t last much longer.”

He chuckled, halting quickly in his joking when he noticed a chest of gold among the hoard of shiny items. “Seems a shame just to leave it lying around,” he said to the others. “Anyone could take it.”

Gloin nodded furiously. “Agreed. Nori, get a shovel.”

Y/N noticed that Bofur was no longer by her side and turned to see three Dwarves were on their knees, pushing dirt over a closed chest. “Heavens, what are you doing?” she giggled.

“Just making a long-term deposit,” Gloin responded, to which she laughed more.

“Have fun, gentlemen.” She made her way to Gandalf, who was inspecting a weapon collection with Thorin.

“These swords were not made by any troll,” Thorin observed, wiping the thick layer of dust to see the sheath.

Gandalf opened one, looking at the blade and engravings of the hilt. “Nor were they made by any smith among men. These were forged in Gondolin, by the High Elves, of the First Age.” Thorin’s face turned sour, and he was in the middle of his movement to return the sword back to the pile. “You could not wish for a finer blade,” Gandalf barked.

Thorin shot a look, quickly unsheathing it to see the beautiful markings of the weapon. Y/N could tell that even under the anger and bitterness towards the Elves that he was still a Dwarf, and Dwarves could not help admiring the fine works and arts of smithing.

“She is beautiful,” she offered, not being able to bring herself to search through the weapons herself.

“If it is sharp and agile then it shall be fine,” he responded. “Nothing more.”

“Perhaps not,” she agreed. “But beauty is not limited to usefulness.” She ran a finger over the dust of a sheath about her stature and height. “I’ve had my fair share of… unpleasantness with Elves. But just like how Dwarves take pride in their work, as do they.” She pulled out the blade, examining the décor of the etched vined climbing the sharp edges, and the way the marking stretched to the handle. “Hence—” she held up the sword, “—she is beautiful.”

Thorin didn’t reply, but she thought of that as better than a lecture. “Let’s get out of this foul place,” he decided. “Come on, let’s go. Bofur, Gloin, Nori.”

The three scrambled to get up, their buried treasure now completely hidden.

Y/N moved a bit frantically to once again breath the fresh air of the wood and decided from then on that she’d never once again stay in a cave willingly.

“Uh, lass…” She felt a tap on her shoulder and spun to see Dwalin standing behind her. “Does your head still pain ya?”

“I suppose. It’s only been an hour.” It was a dull pain. Quick movement would send a sharp spark from her head and down through her spine, but it wasn’t unbearable. She lightly tapped her head and to her concern pulled back to see sticky, drying blood on her fingers.

“I think there’s a pack in one of the bags. Just… sit there.”

Fili was talking with his brother, brandishing, and boasting about his many daggers, when he turned and saw her sitting on a stone, patiently waiting for Dwalin’s return.

“Tired, lass?” he asked.

“Oh, no. I guess getting tossed did more damage than initially anticipated.” She waved to Dwalin, who was taking large steps with a pack in his hands. “I’ve got just a small head injury to be taken care of.”

The brothers gasped. “Well, let me see.”

The blocked Dwalin in his ministrations, gather behind her. “Great Durin, doesn’t that hurt?” Kili gaped.

“Aye, it looks terrible.”

Kili elbowed his brother when she noticed her shoulder tense.

“But not you!” he insisted, and his brother nodded in agreement. “You look great!”

“A-Aye! You can hardly tell you had a dealing with three buffoons.”

Dwalin motioned for her to lean her head forward, so that her wound was facing the sky. “Are you two alluding to yourselves?” he said, causing Y/N to laugh.

Fili nodded. “Aye, with you as the third.”

She laughed harder.

With her head down, she didn’t notice the way that the silence was being occupied with glares being shot between the Dwarves. Instead, all she knew was Dwalin informing her that it may sting as he began to clean her hair and dress with ointment.

Beats passed before he said, “Your hair is quite well taken care of.” She heard the sound of a smacking above her, but she couldn’t tell from whom to whom.

She gave a hesitant chuckled. “Thank you, Master Dwarf. Elves are quite fond of hair routines. However, they had quite the journey learning how to take care of Hobbit styles.”

“Elves have nothing on Dwarves I should guess!” Kili exclaimed.

Y/N played with her trousers as her head was dabbed dry and clean. “Dwarves are fond of hair care?”

“Well, braiding, care, and length all mean something in Dwarven culture,” Fili explained. “Status and wealth are often portrayed through styles.”

“Oh? And what does my hair mean?” More smacking sounds.

Fili cleared his throat. “Well, you have very… healthy hair—”

“Aye, healthy!”

“And long! So that would mean you would be of high status.”

Dwalin told her he was done, and she lifted her head to stretch her neck.

“What about the styling? I suppose I only tie it back, if ever.”

The Dwarves gave nervous laughs. “Well, the simplest way to describe it would be that you don’t have a relationship.”

“As in marriage or such?”

They nodded.

“Oh.” The three of them held their breaths as she absentmindedly played with the ends of her curls. “I suppose that is very accurate then. I haven’t a spouse. Too many days in stuffy classrooms and being chaperoned by my Ladies.”

It looked as if one of them or all of them wanted to comment, but they were all stopped when Thorin drew his blade. “Something’s coming!”

Y/N stood, brandishing the blade she grabbed from the hoard, a rustling sound came from the distance, approaching fast.

“Stay together! Hurry, now! Arm yourselves!” Gandalf ordered, wielding his own weapon in preparation.

Suddenly, from the thick of the tree, large rabbits pulling a forest sled broke through the foliage, crashing in the circle of Dwarves with a boom. “Thieves! Fire! Murder!” shouted the rider.

“Radagast,” Gandalf muttered to himself, and a bit to the rest of the party. “It’s Radagast the Brown!”

Y/N pushed through the wall of Dwarves, a smile on her face. “Radagast! What in great Heavens are you doing here?”

The frantic wizard took her hands, rubbing the tops of her knuckles and returned a warm smile. “Hello, my dear. I was looking for you. Oh, wait, no. I was looking for Gandalf.” He dropped her hands and turned quickly. “Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.”

Gandalf nodded, expectantly. “Yes?”

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His brows knitted together in confusion. “Just give me a minute. Um…Oh! I had a thought and now I’ve lost it. It was…it was as right there, on the tip of my tongue!” He pointed to his mouth when his tongue curled. “Oh! It’s not a thought at all! It’s a silly old… stick insect.”

Gandalf carefully grabbed the legs of the bug, and Y/N saw how Bilbo and the others looked perfectly disturbed by the sight.

“Did he have a bug in his mouth?” Bilbo asked her.

“You should see what lies in his hat,” was her only response.

Gandalf and Radagast stepped to the side to continue their discussion in private, and Y/N silently played with her hair. With all the walking that would have to be done given their ponies were gone, she decided that braiding it back would be the best solution to keeping it free from blocking her face.

She reached behind her head and began to braid, though it being proven difficult with how thick and curly it was. It was contained in a braid that was certainly not for show, and she tied the end to keep it at least behind her.

“Your braiding is terrible,” Kili laughed, standing behind her to tease.

She huffed, only joking in her annoyance. “Well, I’ve never practiced much so this will have to make do.”

“I’d be happy to let you practice on my hair—OW!”

Kili was promptly smacked on the back of his head by his uncle, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “This behavior ceases, do you understand?” he asked his nephew, who was rubbing his head gingerly.

“That hurt!”

“Haven’t you supplies you need to finish packing?”

Kili pouted. “No!”

His brother stepped to his side, linking their arms, and pulling him off. “Yes, you do!”

“Ow ow ow you’re being rough!”

Thorin shook his head as they walked off. He took a glance at her hair and stifled himself. It was the first time she had almost heard him laugh, let alone show that he found something humorous. “But he is right, your skills leave much to be desired.”

She gasped, mocking hurt. “Master Oakenshield! Surely, I was not brought on for my protective hair knowledge. I needn’t worry of such trivial matters.” But she still let her hands lightly brush over. “Besides, a ponytail is often all that is needed. Unless, of course, you’re offering to braid it for me.”

Thorin knew better than to think anything of her ask. After all, she knew nothing of Dwarven culture, which was why he stopped his nephews from asking in the first place. But she had asked him, away from the ears of others, and the sassing tone was what did him over the edge. He coughed into a fist, turning away from her. “Not at all.”  

Suddenly, there was a howl followed by a low growl coming from just beyond the trees. Then, a large beast leaped through the trees, straight towards the company. “Get down!” Thorin shouted, grabbing Y/N by her shoulders, and covering the back of her head.

The beast was quickly shot and stabbed, the Dwarves killing it instantly.

Thorin watched from the ground, going to look down to see her staring back up at him, with wide eyes. Their faces were only an inch apart, noses practically touching. All she felt was his body on hers, legs tangled together, and his hand holding her head closer. They both stayed still, not daring to move, before Thorin jumped up, clearing his throat. “Apologies.”

“No need.”

He extended a hand to her, which she took to help herself up. Their hands lingered a moment as she stood.

“Thank you,” she said.

“No need.”

She quickly took her hand back, blushing slightly, and smiled. “Right, well…” She curtsied and turned to look upon the dead thing.

Thorin would be lying if he wasn’t expecting a kiss on the cheek, the way she had done for Bilbo. He looked over to Bilbo, who was standing next to him, and smacked his head as he did with Kili.

“Ow! What was that for?” Bilbo asked, incredulous.

“Because life isn’t fair.”

Trying to ignore the attack, Bilbo changed the subject.

“Was that a wolf?” Bilbo questioned. “Are there…are there wolves out there?”

Bofur shook his head. “Wolves? No, that is not a wolf.”

“Warg scouts! Which means an orc pack is not far behind!” Thorin tried to look past the trees and out to the open field beyond, trying to catch sight of where the Warg came from.

Bilbo blanched. “Orc pack?”

“Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?” Gandalf demanded.

“No one.”

“Who did you tell?!”

“No one, I swear!” He stepped closer, his voice lowering. “What in Durin’s name is going on?”

“You are being hunted.”

Dwalin gripped his axe, looking down at the animal. “We have to get out of here.”

“We can’t!” Ori exclaimed. “We have no ponies. They bolted.”

“I’ll draw them off,” Radagast said, much to Gandalf and Y/N’s surprise.

“These are Gundabad Wargs. They will outrun you!” Gandalf protested, as Wargs were one of the fastest creatures in the hunt.

Radagast had a very mischievous look on his face. “These are Rhosgobel rabbits. I’d like to see them try.”

Y/N and Gandalf shared a look. “Right, keep us safe,” she told him.

“Anything for you, lass.”

Trying to move around the chase was difficult. There were many times they were almost caught. Many times, they had to turn back the way had come because Radagast was trying to be unpredictable. He was, but it only made escaping that much harder.

Running made Y/N’s head pound, and it was becoming more and more apparent that the lack of sleep and food was starting to affect her.

Gandalf was leading the way, motioning for them to run ahead of him. “All of you, come on, come on! Quick!”

“Where are you leading us?” Thorin questioned, suspicious.

But Gandalf knew better than to answer him.

They soon ran into a large rock, where the company had their backs cornered with the Orcs closing in on them. “This way! Quickly!” Gandalf shouted, but she could not see where he was calling to.

Kili drew an arrow. “There’s more coming!”

“Shoot them!” Thorin shouted.

“We’re surrounded!” Fili exclaimed, his eyes darting about.

Kili shot an Orc, killing him, but it proved overall unsuccessful. The Orcs were inching closer, the Wargs beneath them snarling and gnashing their teeth at anyone that moved.

“Where’s Gandalf?”

Dwalin swung his axe to wade off the beasts. “He’s abandoned us!”

“Hold your ground!”

Gandalf appeared from nowhere, motioning to an opening in the base of the rock. “This way, you fools!”

Thorin saw how the hole was not big enough for the Wargs to fit through and started to push his company towards it. “Come on, move! Quickly! All of you! Go, go, go!”

She watched as everyone jumped, one by one to safety, with Kili and Thorin still standing ground with her. The king pushed his nephew down as she slashed her sword at one of the Wargs faces, eliciting a whine and howl from the beast.

“Y/N, let’s go!” Thorin yelled, grabbing her arm.

She faced him and the hole, stomach flipping, but nodded anyway. She stepped back from the snarls and Orcs as Thorin wrapped an arm around her waist and jumped through together.

They slid down the rock holding on to each other, and he was quick to stand and pull her back from the entrance. An Orc fell through, but landed dead on the dirt with an arrow in his neck. Thorin let her go to make it to the body, knelt and pulled it free, before scoffing and throwing the arrow away. “Elves.”

Dwalin came from a way from the underground, peering his head around the corner. “I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or not?”

Bofur nodded, already making his way through. “We follow it, of course!”

Gandalf saw how Thorin was shooting daggers at him. “I think that would be wise.”

The path was cool, and the walls close together. It felt like forever until the end had a shimmer of light, signaling the end of the underground path. She pushed her way out, and overlooked a white and gold valley city, overlooking a river and waterfall from the mountain it was at the base of. The greenery was overfilling the countryside, with the mist of the waterfalls wafting free into the air.

“The Valley of Imladris. In the common tongue, it’s known by another name.”

Bilbo looked speechless out upon the sight. “Rivendell.”

Y/N couldn’t help but a sour look to befall on her face. “And I’m already back.”

Thorin raised a brow, shocked. “You don’t like it here?”

“Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘It’s a beautiful prison, but a prison nonetheless?’ It rings very true in my mind.” She adjusted her pack, sighing. “Well, at least I won’t feel as out of place as I used to.”

Gandalf, who ignored her negative review of the sight, smiled at Bilbo, who looked perfectly starstruck. “Here lies the last homely house, east of the sea.”

“This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy,” Thorin accused.

Gandalf looked miffed, glaring back. “You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself.”

Thorin lowered his voice. “You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us.”

“Of course, they will,” he told him, sounding like even being asked such an obvious question would be insulting. “But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful this will need to be handled with tact, and respect, and no small degree of charm, which is why you will leave the talking to me.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, you certainly shan’t be talking,” Gandalf said to her. “I’ve a library filled of the reports of your behavior.”

She giggled wildly, following them down the path. “It’s not my fault it’s so easy to get a report made. It only takes a well-placed note on the professors back and enough young children to read it.”

“Have you spent your entire childhood tormenting the very beings I asked to look after you?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

He sighed, looking up to the Heavens for forgiveness. “No wonder they all said you were ready when I asked if you should accompany me.”

She turned to Thorin, who was watching the whole exchange, and winked. “If I knew that was all it took, I would’ve started acting up ages ago.”

His face reddened in response, and he turned away. “I thought you loved it here.”

“What a foolish thing to assume. Besides, you never asked me.”

Upon entering the city’s gates, Lindir greeted them. “Mithrandir.”

Gandalf smiled. “Ah, Lindir.”

Thorin leaned to Dwalin, whispering, “Stay sharp.”

Lindir began to speak in Elvish, telling Gandalf he is aware they were crossing the valley.

“I must speak with Lord Elrond.”

Lindir looked nervous. “My Lord Elrond is not here.”

Gandalf raised a brow. “Not here? Where is he?”

A war horn was sounded as the rush of horse hooves began to surround the Dwarves.

“Close ranks!” Thorin ordered, and the Dwarves began to huddle, their backs to each other. Luckily, Y/N was still on the other side of everything, watching as the horses and elves circled them. It was clear that some of the Elves recognized her and gave puzzled looks to each other.

But emerging from the hunting party was the Lord of Rivendell, Elrond, with a smile on his face.

“Gandalf!” he greeted. He paused and turned to see her standing among the huddle. He stepped from atop his horse and extended a hand to her. “And Miss Y/N.”

Comically, all the Dwarves turned to her, their armor and weapons clanging.

She knew this was not the time to joke and did her best to follow the expectations that were placed on her since she was born. She straightened her back, lifted her gaze to meet the Lord’s, took his outstretched hand, and gave a bow. “My Lord.”

Ori reached to her to pull her back, as she was led to stand next to the wizard, but Gloin smacked his hand.

“Lord Elrond.” Then Gandalf began to speak in Elvish, asking where Elrond had been.

Elrond responded, looking between the guardian and apprentice. “/We’ve been hunting a pack of Orcs that came up from the South. We slew a number near the Hidden Pass./” He then embraced Gandalf, as an old friend, and Y/N felt herself relax. “Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders. Something or someone has drawn them near.”

Gandalf nodded, gesturing to the Dwarves and Bilbo. “Ah, that may have been us.”

Thorin stepped from the group, giving his best version of a smile (which was not much).

“Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain.”

Thorin grunted. “I do not believe we have met.”

“You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled Under the Mountain.”

Thorin glanced back at the group, a smirk tugging his lips. “Indeed? He made no mention of you.” The company laughed, and Y/N found herself biting the inside of her lip, something she did when it was improper to laugh, but she wanted to so dearly.

Elrond raised a brow, before saying, “/Let us begin our feast, joined by our guests./”

Gloin turned around, shuffling angrily. “What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?” The company protested with him.

Gandalf shook his head. “No, Master Gloin, he's offering you food.”

They quieted, turning to each other in quiet discussion. Then they turned back. “Well, in that case, lead on.”

Y/N began to walk with the Dwarves when Elrond held up a hand. “Just a moment, Miss Y/N. Your Ladies await to prepare you for dinner.”

Then from the other side of the courtyard three Elven maids made way to her, giggling when they saw. “Oh my!” said the first.

“Indeed!” said the second.

“We must clean you up!” said the third.

Y/N looked panicked and turned to the Lord. “Oh, my Lord, surely anything permitted for my company should extend to me.”

He shook his head. “Nonsense. It should only be a moment before you rejoin.” Elrond motioned for the Ladies to take her, and they began to hurry her off to the baths.

Bofur looked through shoulders, watching as she was taken away. “Where is she going?”

Some of the other Dwarves began to protest too, watching as she finally turned the corner and disappeared.

“She is going to bathe, Master Dwarf.”

Bofur turned a red and promptly shut his mouth.

Y/N also turned red, as her Ladies had her strip her clothes and dispose of them. They then had her step into the steaming water, where her cuts and bruises stung before relaxing. Despite hating being bathed by others, she had to admit that the bath was nice.

“You are quite dirty,” said Zelda.

“Yes, perfectly covered,” agreed Helda.

“No worries, we shall prepare you for the banquet,” assured Elda.

Y/N smiled shyly. “Perhaps nothing too extravagant this time.” But she knew requesting was futile as the Elves already looked at her face, examining how they wanted to add makeup to her features.

“But you must tell me,” Zelda began, scrubbing Y/N’s arms. “How is it to be with Dwarves?”

“Dwarves?” Helda exclaimed, soaping her hair. “How is it to be with men?”

“Clearly, it is awful,” Elda finished, taking a cloth to her feet.

Y/N began to laugh, trying to pull her foot away. “Lady Elda! Lady Elda; that tickles a great deal!”

Back at the banquet table, the Dwarves and Hobbit sat in relative silence. It was clear no one was too happy to be there. “Try it. Just a mouthful.” Dori was pushing a fork of lettuce to his brother’s mouth.

Ori pouted. “I don't like green food.”

Nori searched through the salad, looking shocked to his brethren. “Where's the meat?”

“Have they got any chips?”

From the distance, a laugh sounded through the hall, which the Elves ignored fine. But the company raised brows and looked to each other.

“Was that Y/N?” Fili asked, looking down towards the sound.

“What in Durin’s name are they doing to her?” Kili demanded.

Bilbo rolled his eyes, eating bits of his food. “She’s laughing, you lot.”

Then a scream.

Bilbo leaned back in his chair, looking to the bathing rooms. “Okay, I’m not sure what that is.” He turned around to ask Gandalf, but the wizard didn’t look very fazed at all.

“Kind of you to invite us,” he said to the Lord. “Not really dressed for dinner.”

Elrond smirk, drinking his wine. “Well, you never are.”

Kili turned his attention away from Y/N, and saw an Elven lady and gave her a wink. When he noticed Dwalin shooting him a look he quickly shrugged. “Can't say I fancy Elf maids myself. Too thin. They're all high cheekbones and creamy skin. Not enough facial hair for me. Although... That one there's not bad.”

Dwalin rolled his eyes. “That's not an elf maid.”

Sounds of hushed giggling was heard in the hall, and they looked to see three tall maids hurrying Y/N to join the festivities. “Aren’t you excited to show your friends how you look?” Zelda questioned.

She shook her head, causing a round of laughs.

“But we worked so hard. I’m sure everyone is expectant of seeing you.” Helda smoothed the dress they had put on her.

“Now, off you go.” Elda gestured for them to bow to which she curtsied back quickly before making her way to the empty seat in between Kili and Dwalin.

The table was silent as she kept her hair in front of her face, looking down to not see anyone else. The Dwarves looked to each other, wondering what to do or say. It was finally Bilbo who said, “Are you alright?”

She exhaled before lifting her head.

Her hair was curled in small and tight ringlets, like a waterfall down her back. She wore an Elven headdress that was rose gold with pink gems. Her dress was white, a straight cut that rested off her shoulders, with the sleeves opening wide at her wrists, and the bodice hugging her body. And being Hobbit in Elven clothing, it was tight to her round frame, not hiding much of anything from sight. There was gold stitching in the fabric. Her face was scrubbed clean, with her eyelashes curled, cheeks reddened, and her lips tinted.

Thorin was grateful to be at the head table, away from where everyone was looking, because when she sat down, her bodice tightened and pushed further out, and his thumb bent the fork 90 degrees.

“I am alright, Master Baggins,” she replied, carefully reaching for her fork to begin eating. As she was about to take a bite, she looked to see the silence and stares of the party, open-mouthed gaping at her. Dori even dropped the fork he was using to get Ori to eat. “What? What is it?”

Some tried to reply, but no sound came out.

She sighed. “It’s my face, isn’t it? I look dreadful.”

Bilbo was the first to find his words. “No! No, not at all. You look… quite nice.”

Nori nodded furiously. “Aye, quite nice indeed.”

The Dwarves sounded off in agreement.

Y/N pulled at the fabric on her wrists. “I feel ridiculous. This is how they dressed me during me studies. I thought this journey would free me from this.”

Kili leaned forward. “You looked like this every day?” he gawked, earning him a slap on the head from his brother. “It looks lovely,” he remedied.

“Well, I think you look like a princess,” Ori offered, his mouth opened a bit.

She blushed, feeling her ears get hot. “Well, thank you.”

“I was also going to say that!” Bofur shouted.

“Oh, by my beard, you were!” Gloin objected, rolling his eyes.

Y/N tried her best to ignore the bickering that was beginning and ate her salad in relative silence.

She grabbed her glass of water, passing over the wine, much to Dwalin’s surprise. Perhaps he would’ve ignored it, but when her water glass emptied, she politely waved to have it refilled rather than partake from her other cup. When she noticed him looking at her wine, she pointed to it. “You can have it.”

“Not a wine lady, are ya?” he asked, obliging.

“Oh, I’m not sure. I’ve just seen how the ladies of Man act when drunk and decided I didn’t want to find out if I’m able to get there.”

“You’ve never had a drink!?” Kili interjected, slamming his fists on the table.

“You what!?” Gloin yelled.

They started yet another round of objections, speaking over each other and shouting wildly. The noise caused her to press her back to her chair, scrunching her chin into her neck. She looked over and saw Dwalin smirking into the cup. “You just had to ask.”

“In my defense, Dwarves are known for enjoying liquor.”

“Yes, I quite remember the night in Master Baggins home.”

Eventually, the outrage slowed down and Y/N was able to enjoy her water once more.

Members of the Elven orchestra played music to fill the hall, beautiful notes on the flute, harp, and violin. She quite liked the sounds the Elves brought to them but looking at the table the Dwarves were less than pleased.

They were plugging their ears, groaning, and stuffing napkins into hearing horns.

“Change the tune, why don't you? I feel like I'm at a funeral.” Nori shouted, to which no one took heed.

Oin looked around. “Did somebody die?”

Bofur clapped his hands, standing up from his seat. “All right, lads… and lady. There's only one thing for it.” He pulled himself up onto the table and began to sing. “There's… an… inn, there's an inn./ There's a merry old inn/ Beneath an old gray hill!”

The Dwarves clapped their hands and banged their goblet against the table and started to sing along.

“And there they brew a beer so brown/ The Man in the Moon Himself came down/ One night to drink his fill!”

Bofur winked at Y/N, who was smiling wide at the performance. “The ostler has a tipsy cat/ That played a five-stringed fiddle/ And up and down he saws his bow/ Now squeaking high!/ Now purring low…/ Now sawing in the middle.”

She clapped excitedly as he began to jump around the table, sending some of the bowls flying (not that anyone minded).

“The cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle/ A jig that'll wake the dead!/ He squeaked and he sawed/ And he quickened the tune/ And the landlord shook the Man in the Moon!/ 'it's after Three!' he said!”

The Dwarves cheered, throwing bread and lettuce at him, as he took a bow for his audience. Y/N laughed cheerily, excited for such a display of fun. Fun she had yet to experience there in Rivendell. “Bravo! Bravo!” she yelled.

“Not bad for a Dwarf, eh?” he asked her, hopping down from his tabletop stage.

“Not bad at all. Though, I’ve yet to hear that song. Is it a drinking song?”

“Aye. I don’t suppose you’d know many of them when this is all that’s playing.” He gestured to the band, who began playing their song melodies once more. “Especially since you don’t drink!”

She groaned, elbowing Dwalin who was laughing quietly. “No, nothing as exciting as that. But I know of a song about whiskey—”

“Really!?” he exclaimed, practically vibrating in his boots. “Surely, you’ll sing for us.”

She quickly shook her head. “Oh no! If you do not like these slow melodies, then I doubt you shall like the one I know.”

“Nonsense!” he continued, grabbing her hands. “Any song about spirits is bound to go with this lot!” He pulled her up and, without her even having to stand, lifted her clean off her feet and onto the table.

“Master Dwarf!”

“I’ll let you down if you sing for us.” He gave a wink, standing back to look up at her with full view.

She looked at the table, expectant faces on most everyone watching, and curious faces on the rest. The band had ceased their playing, waiting for her to sing so they could continue after. “Well, alright.”

The company hooped and hollered, and she quickly shushed them with a laugh. “I haven’t dedicated much of my time recently to the musical arts, so I may be rusty. And Oakenshield? If at any time you need to reprimand me, I will not fight back this time.”

The company turned to their leader, who was sat with the Elves discussing their found blades, waiting to see if they would shut down the fun they were having. Thorin craned his head to Elrond and Gandalf, who said nothing at the display. “Well, I surely enjoy being entertained.”

She rolled her eyes at their cheers. “You’re no help.” She pushed down the floaty feeling in her stomach and cleared her throat. “Come guess me this riddle/ what beats pipes and fiddles?/ What’s hotter than mustard and milder than crème?/”

She waited for someone to stop her, but everyone waited patiently for her to continue. “What best wets your whistle?/ what’s clearer than crystal?/ Sweeter than honey and stronger than steam?” The harpist began to strum, the flutist began to tune, and soon she had the band accompanying her. “What can make the mute talk?/ what can make the lame walk?/ what’s the elixir of life and philosophers stone?/ And what helped Mr. Brunnel to dig the thames tunnels?/ Surely wasn’t it whiskey from yonder and fro?

“So, stick to the creator/ and the best thing in nature/ for sinking your sorrows and raising of joy./ And oh I’d half wonder/ if lightning and thunder/ was made from the plunder of whiskey, my boys.”

She finished her song, looking around at the Elves and Dwarves that had paused their conversations and playing to watch her, and gave a low curtsy. “Thank you,” she whispered.

She stuck her hand out to Dwalin, who took it as delicately as a rose petal falling to the ground, and helped her down. “That was beautiful, lass,” he told her. “Never thought I’d hear such a song.”

She smiled. “Well, if courage ever accompanied me again I’d be happy to share once more.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Four: Greener Looking Times

Word Count: 5,794 words

Warnings: Thorin being stupid and stubborn

***

When dinner had ended, the Dwarves began making way to designated chambers that were set aside from them. Y/N was about to go with them when Gandalf motioned for her to follow him, Thorin, Balin, and Bilbo. They seemed to be following Lord Elrond towards the Elvish library, and to the secluded podium by the falls.

She made her way, to which Thorin finally got a look at her. He took her in, brows knitted together. He thought about giving her a compliment, given how he thought she looked at dinner. “You look like an Elf.”

She raised her brows. “An insult from you, Master Oakenshield,” she teased.

“I meant no insult.”

She laughed. “That’s quite alright. Ori said I looked like a princess. But I think this style is not suited for me.” She let her hands run over the fabric, as the group began moving through the darkened pathways.

“Were you not raised this way?” he questioned, shifting between looking at her and glaring at Gandalf’s head.

“I suppose I was, but I don’t think this is who I am meant to be, you know? I don’t think this is who Miss Y/N will be in my future.”

Thorin’s face softened, less tense than he was just being in this place. “And who is Miss Y/N?”

She felt her eyes drop, melting into a melancholic gaze. “I don’t believe either of us shall know.” Her fingers intertwined with each other, holding a poised stance in front of her stomach. “I speak very little of my life, out of respect of the Dwarven company, but I, too, know what it is like to long for a place of belonging.”

Thorin contemplated her words. “I don’t believe I ever asked how you came to be the apprentice to Gandalf.”

His silent question hung in the air. “Perhaps, Master Oakenshield, I shall inform you. But not now. I believe Gandalf wants your map.”

Thorin glared, clutching the map in his hands. “Our business is no concern of Elves,” he told the wizard, who stood with his out outstretched.

Gandalf rolled his eyes. “For goodness’ sake, Thorin, show him the map.”

He shook his head, standing his ground. “It is the legacy of my people. It is mine to protect, as are its secrets.”

Gandalf stomped his staff, looking about furiously to contain his annoyance. “Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves,” he muttered. “Your pride will be your downfall. You stand in the presence of one of the few in Middle-Earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond.”

Y/N moved to Bilbo’s side, who was watching the exchange with a nervous glance. “Who do you think shall win?” she asked, in a low voice. “An old wizard incapable of being straightforward, or a Dwarven king with a personal vendetta?”

“I think the joke here is that you expect either of them to actually ‘win,’” he responded, causing her to giggle.

Thorin stared hard, but it was clear that any hope of completing this journey would be gone should he not agree. He did not look happy, but he walked to hand the map anyway.

Balin looked heartbroken. “Thorin, no.” But it was done.

Elrond unfolded the delicate paper, examining the writing. “Erebor,” he noted. “What is your interest in this map?”

Gandalf stopped Thorin from answering something snarky. “It's mainly academic. As you know, this sort of artifact sometimes contains hidden text. You still read ancient Dwarvish, do you not?” Elrond nodded, and the map began to glow in the light of the night sky. “Moon runes? Of course. An easy thing to miss.”

“Is this the charming nature he was speaking of earlier?” Y/N whispered to Bilbo, making him laugh.

“I don’t think Elrond is buying it.”

“I don’t think he is strung enough to care.”

“Hush, you two,” Balin ordered, but she could see the whispers of a smile trying to invade his lips.

“Well, in this case, that is true,” Elrond continued. “Moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written.”

Thorin stepped forward, hope in his eyes. “Can you read them?”

Elrond nodded, moving to the podium that stood in the rays on the moon. “These runes were written on a Midsummer's Eve by the light of a crescent moon nearly 200 years ago. It would seem you were meant to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield. The same moon shines upon us tonight.”

Y/N felt her blood run cold. “It is Midsummer Eve?”

Bilbo shrugged. “I suppose it is. I haven’t a calendar with me.”

“Oh…”

He looked over, confused. “Are you alright?”

She quickly shook her head, planting a fake smile on her face. “Quite so.” And she pretended not to see him attempt to ask again.

 “’Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole.’”

“Durin's Day?” Bilbo asked Balin.

Gandalf took in the information. “It is the start of the Dwarves' new year, when the last moon of autumn, and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together.”

Thorin was clearly thinking through everything. The plan and how it was seemingly rushed. “This is ill news. Summer is passing. Durin's Day will soon be upon us.”

Balin quickly moved to his king’s side. “We still have time,” he insisted.

“Time? For what?”

“To find the entrance.” Balin spoke with his hands, completely forgetting about the Elven Lord who was looking puzzled and alarmed at the map. “We have to be standing in exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened.”

“So, this is your purpose, to enter the mountain?” Elrond demanded.         

Thorin shot him a look. “What of it?”

“There are some who would not deem it wise.”

Gandalf got that look that Y/N could never quite read completely. It was a look he got when someone else was using word tricks against him. She saw it the most when Galadriel was present. But Gandalf also looked very longingly to her, and Y/N found herself content with such affairs. “What do you mean?”

Elrond leaned, more serious than she had seen him in a long time. “You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle-Earth.”

Gandalf had the four of them excused, telling them to rejoin the celebrations the Dwarves were having in their quarters.

“I think I shall go for a walk,” Y/N said aloud, trying not to sound suspicious.

Bilbo turned around, noticing she had stopped following them. “Would you… like if I joined you?”

She quickly shook her head and hands in unison. “No! I mean, no thank you. It is not often I get to have time dedicated to my thoughts. Constant companionship from my Ladies.”

He didn’t seem to buy it, but he also knew that if she wanted him to know she would tell him. “Well, I’m sure you know where everyone is staying. Should you come find us.”

“Of course. Until I see you next, Master Baggins.”

The quiet late-night walks were always peaceful for her. The way the breeze blew through her hair, and how the stars sent a comforting light to her face. When she was able to escape her quarters and studies, walks like these were the perfect seclusion. But tonight was not an escape, as she could never escape herself.

She went back to the library outlook, watching as the moon was beginning to make its descent. Despite being in a white dress, she sat next to the podium, overwatching the falls and the river below her.

“Not with your companions?” asked a voice.

She jumped, looking back to see Elrond behind her. “My Lord!” She began to get up, but he held a hand, halting her movement. “Apologies. I was just…” But there was not excuse she could think of.

“As a student who spoke of nothing but adventure since her birth,” he began, making way to her side, “I would expect you to be enjoying the festivities the most.”

Y/N let her shoulders fall, exhaling into the chill. “I do not understand, my Lord,” she admitted. “I wanted this so badly. But I feel as if I didn’t know what I wanted at all.”

He looked around, as if he was about to do something quite mischievous and knelt to sit by her side. “I have noticed the way your face falls at the mention of the Eve, over these years. Are you able to tell me why?”

She shrugged, bringing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. “I had thought it was because Gandalf would leave to Hobbiton country and leave me here since he had diplomatic duties to take care of as well. At least, that’s what I had hoped it to be.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean… I mean that I thought what I felt in those rooms and in these walls was a longing for the world ahead. But after having a taste of it. A taste of real adventure with noble purpose…” She shook her head, curls falling into her face. “I do not know.”

Elrond held out a hand, which she took as he brought her up. He began walking, pointing to his side for her to walk along with him. “Sometimes, it is the journeys in ourselves that need tending to the most.”

“I was not even aware there was a journey inside me.”

He waited for her to continue.

“My Lord… I fear that sometimes I… I am more Hobbit-like than previously thought.”

“How do you mean?”

She began to pick at her fingers, watching her bare feet as she walked. “I remember you saying that Hobbit’s are fond of their comforts at home.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Well, what if I am not looking for adventure or purpose?” she asked, fearing the words she was speaking. “I have a fear that perhaps I am wanting something I never had and may never have again.”

“And what’s that?”

She felt her eyes water, and she made no move to prevent one from falling. “A sense of belonging.”

Elrond paused walking, allowing her to take a moment to dry her eyes. “My dear,” he said, holding his hand for her to take. “Look out at the bay.” He pulled her towards the railing, overlooking the city and the water beyond it. How the stars shone above, reflecting through the ripples of the waves. “There is a constant between the races that wander Middle-Earth. From the smallest of Hobbits to the hardiest Man to the pride of Elves. Whether great or small; good or evil, everyone is searching for purpose.

“Some are born into their comfort and meaning, and others must take destiny in their own hands. And I dare say that some pass before they find it.”

“My Lord…”

“That is to say, that some must go through the pain of being alone so that they may appreciate when they are surrounded by those who cherish them.” He tapped her knuckles, and she turned her palms upwards to him. “There are many things in this world we must face alone, and what we do in our solitude will speak to our character in ways we never knew. But it is also how we respond to help from companions and friends that show us the best version of ourselves.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Elrond smiled, placing something in her hand and closing her fingers over it. “Do not mistake comfort for dullness. Sometimes the simplest path is the right one. But do not ignore what the rough path has taught you.”

The sound of laughter and yelling was heard from the other side of the walk, the light from the Dwarves quarters still shining as they ate in jovial manner. Elrond bid her goodnight and left her with her hands clasped around what he had placed there.

She opened her palms to peek. It was a shell from the bay. She held it up to her ear, and in the tiniest of shells she could hear the ocean.

Y/N returned to the company, watching as some of them were splashing in the pool. She wanted to greet them but noticed the pile of clothes on the water’s edge, and realized they were swimming naked.

“Oh, Heavens.”

The Dwarves in the room were fully dressed, but their behavior was far from formal. A fire was lit in the middle of the floor, and the wood they were burning was from the furniture. Food and beer were strewn across the stone, and they continued to throw meat, cheese, and eggs at each other.

Bofur looked at the egg in his hand and stared at his mate who sat on a far-too-small stool. “Bombur,” he called. He tossed the food to Bombur, who caught it in one of his free hands. Then, the sound of creaking and cracking introduced itself as the stool collapsed from underneath him. The room busted out in laughter, as the food in his arms went flying.

Bofur wiped tears from his eyes, looking as Y/N walked in. “Ah! Nice of you to join us. Have a pleasant walk, did ya?”

“I see you have made yourselves at home.”

Bofur shook his head. “You are mistaken, lass. We would never burn Dwarven furniture. It is far too well-crafted.”

“I shall be sure to tell the Elves that made them.”

Thorin made his way to the party, his face serious. “Everyone, gather your things. We leave in a moment.”

Y/N sauntered over to him, as he began to stuff his bags with his map. “So soon?”

“Gandalf is distracting Elrond as we make our leave,” he explained. “A council has been gathered to discuss our quest. We must leave before they prevent us.”

She nodded, pulling at her sleeves. “I’ll change at once.”

With the rising sun, the company climbed the large hill that bordered Rivendell, making way back into the wilderness. Y/N was dressed back into more suitable clothing, with her hair pinned back out of her face. With no ponies, everyone carried a big pack of supplies, but had left certain items behind for room.

“Be on your guard,” Thorin ordered. “We're about to step over the Edge of the Wild.” He let his dear friend ahead of him. “Balin, you know these paths. Lead on.”

“Aye.”

Bilbo continued to look out at the city, seemingly considering going back. “Master Baggins,” Thorin called, getting the Hobbit to turn. “I suggest you keep up.”

He nodded and began to follow suit.

The day’s journey was starting to wear her down. First, Thorin made some comment about her being too far ahead and how if she was to wander he would not ask anyone to look for her. Then when she was at the back, he yelled at her to keep up. Her water breaks were too long, not long enough, she wasn’t pulling her weight, she was overworking herself.

It wasn’t until the sun finally started to go down that he let off.

“We shall stop here for the night,” Thorin decided, letting his pack fall from his shoulders.

It was a secluded opening in the forest, following the stream path. The grass was low and soft, perfect for a floor bed for the night. Y/N was ready for sleep. She hadn’t slept in a couple days, and it was starting to affect how well she could keep up. Thorin called her out three times before calling camp. It was embarrassing, but everyone was equally exhausted.

As she unrolled her pack, a pair of shoes came into her view. She looked up to see Thorin standing above her. “You take first watch.”

Thorin had been bugging her all day. Constant berating, critiquing, and callouts. She was sure he was in a bad mood and taking it out on the Hobbit who was raised by Elves was the easiest thing to do. As much as she wanted to argue (and smack him for even suggesting that), she just let go of her pack and got up without a word.

“Did you hear me?”

“It’s hard not to,” she whispered under her breath, walking away.

“What was that?” he barked.

She took a deep breath, before turning around with a hard look on her face. “I said, ‘Of course, sir.’”

“Do I detect sarcasm?”

Y/N rubbed her face, too drained to even pretend to care. “Master Oakenshield, I am not arguing with you. I am going on watch, and if my tone offends you then you can tune me out. Gods know I’ve been doing that all day.”

His face turned dark. “What?”

“Okay, Thorin!” interrupted Balin, who grabbed his king by the shoulders. “Let’s get to bed so we may rise early.”

He took the anger-building Dwarf to the other side of the fire, as Y/N scoffed and sat against a tree on the perimeter of camp.

She leaned her head back, feel the bark just above her wound, when she felt a presence at her side. She opened one eye, looking over to see Kili sitting next to her. “Uncle ask you to do night watch?”

“That he did. He ask you the same?”

“No, but you look like you’re going to pass out any moment so I thought I would take first watch with you.”

She laughed, feeling the way her muscles and bones wanted to melt. “Well, thank you. The last thing I want is to fall asleep and endanger the company.”

Kili shuffled closer, until there were only inches between their shoulders. “If you fall asleep, I won’t tell anyone. Promise.”

“Anyone?”

“Not a soul.”

Y/N nodded, taking it all in, and smiled. “Thank you. Wake me should anything happen.” She let her head slump back, crossing her arms as she felt her consciousness leave her against the tree.

“Aye, I will.”

Y/N was fast asleep when it came to swap watch. Kili was about to wake her and let her go to her pack on the ground, but her head lulled to the side, falling onto his shoulder. He guessed he did not breathe for half a minute or more, tensing and freezing completely under her. He carefully looked over and noticed how peaceful she was.

Her face was lightly scrubbed to remove the makeup, but her eyelashes were still lightly coated. Her cheeks had a natural flush to them, glowing in the dying firelight. Her chest would rise and fall in a constant stream, so soft it was barely noticeable.

When he would shift, her brows would knit, and he would quickly sit still again.

“Nori…” he whispered, as this Dwarf was the closest to him. “Nori!” He pulled a shoe from his foot and threw it at the sleeping Dwarf’s head.

He woke with a start, grabbing the boot and turning red with anger. “Kili! by Durin’s kin I’ll—”

Kili quickly shushed him, pointing to Y/N who was still sleeping.

Nori looked between the two and rolled his eyes. “Does she know that’s happening?”

“Shut up and give me back my boot.”

“You can have your boot when she wakes and you can take it,” Nori said promptly, smiling as he got up and went to his post.

Kili looked shock. “Nori!? Nori get back here!”

“Can’t. I’m going on watch.”

Kili continued to look at his friend in bewilderment. When it was clear Nori was not joking, his face scrunched together, and he tried to make himself comfortable against the tree. He felt his heart pound in his chest so hard that he was sure it would wake her. He swallowed his fear, and let his head lay on hers.

She shifted and Kili panicked. But after a second of pure terror, he felt her nuzzle into his shoulder, trying to get just a bit closer.

“You are quite extraordinary,” he whispered.

Morning came and Y/N awoke to the shine of the sun on her face. She realized she had fallen to the side in the night, laying on the bare ground, which was quickly accompanied by realizing Kili was sleeping on top of her. His arm slung over her body, face in her hair, and half of his weight over her body.

Her face reddened and she tried her best to crawl away. But it was to no avail. He was far too heavy asleep to move. She watched as the Dwarves began to rise, and Nori pass them to his pack. “Master Nori!” she called, gaining his attention. “A bit of help?”

He laughed and walked over. “Wake up, you oaf!” He grabbed Kili by his clothes, pulling him up to throw him in the opposite direction. Kili looked around wildly, trying to figure out what had happened. “Don’t go sleeping on lasses,” Nori said, shaking his head. “’Tis not polite.”

Kili swallowed and ran his hand over his face. Nori had already begun to walk away, leaving the two in an awkward cloud of silence. “I uh… hadn’t realized… Of course, if I had I would’ve—I mean wouldn’t’ve! I wouldn’t’ve done… that.”

“No, of course not!”

She stared at the ground, avoiding his gaze, before pointing to her things. “Well, I should pack.”

“Right! As should I.”

Y/N didn’t have much to pack. Because she fell asleep during watch, her cot and blanket was still in her bag, and she just had to resecure the straps.

“How was first watch?”

She looked up to see Thorin looming above her, with his bag slung over his shoulder. “Nothing to report.”

“Did you get enough sleep?”

Thinking she was about to be lectured on falling asleep, she just simply nodded.

“And… I trust you were comfortable?”

She froze, pausing in tying her straps. “I was… until morning.”

He said nothing else, and simply left without a final word. Instead, he addressed the camp. “Move out. We aren’t stopping until we are at the rendezvous point.” As he went to the front of the company, he grabbed Kili’s shoe before he could put it on and smacked his head with it. “Don’t do that again.”

They began trudging along once more. The silence was intermittently paused with moments of brief chatter. But the tension of the leader was evident to the rest of the party. No one dared joke or laugh, in fear that any sense of comradery would be portrayed as silliness and frivol.

It was not long before a light rain joined them again. They had begun to navigate the narrow paths of the rocky cliffside, through the valley of the mountains. Continuing onward was met with smaller and smaller footholds, with the company’s back against the stone.

“Master Oakenshield!” Y/N called from the middle of the line. “Perhaps we should turn back and continue after the rain.”

“We do not stop!” he barked.

But the rain was getting heavier, and the fragile rock was beginning to crumble. Thunder cracked and light struck across the sky in scars of white. Wind pushed them around, threatening to send them flying off of the side of the mountain and into the void below. Y/N’s hands gripped the mountain side with all her might, taking the smallest of steps that she could.

Thorin looked back at his company but refused to let his face show regret. "Hold on!" he shouted through the wind.

 One strong force pushed Y/N to an unstable area and rocks collapsed beneath her feet. She let out a yelp, watching as the darkened valley below grew closer. Dwalin stood in front of her, and quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her back firm against the stone. “Oh, gods,” she swallowed, grabbing onto her companion’s sleeve for stability.

"We must find shelter!" Thorin shouted, pushing ahead.

"Watch out!"

 Y/N looked up in horror. A boulder, the size of a town, hurled across the sky and shattered against the mountain top, shaking it violently. Rocks fell down, impacting against the already too small path, chipping away more and more footholds for standing. Dwalin pushed his hand against Y/N’s stomach, keeping her tight against the side, and she kept one hand to the jagged mountain and the other tangled in his fabric. The company tried to merge with the wall, giving quick prayers as lightning struck against the sky once more.

"This is no thunderstorm…” Balin yelled in awe. “It's a thunder battle! Look!"

 They all looked up to what he spoke of and the light flashing revealed a giant. A giant hundred upon thousands of feet tall, with black rocks forming his body, stomping around the valley, and throwing giant boulders across the range. It was almost impossible to process, but it there it was. Real and true.

 Bofur looked up in pure terror, as it grabbed another piece of the mountain. "Well bless me, the legends are true. Giants! Stone Giants!” As he cried out, the giant threw another boulder, hitting an opposing giant in his head. The second stumbled back, but not falling.

Thorin looked around, trying to keep the worry off of his face. "Take cover! You'll fall!" The wild wind and the shaking of the valley was proving nearly too strong for the company to handle.

 Kili looked around, his eyes darting wildly. "What's happening?"

The stone giants ran at each other, causing the mountain to shake from the deadly vibrations. The ground beneath them began to crumble away, and a chasm formed in the middle of the line. Y/N risked letting go of her hold, and grabbed Bilbo, who was wavering against the quakes.

Fili quickly reached out to his brother, grabbing onto each other's wrists. "Kili! Grab my hand! Ki…” His voice trailed off as he looked up, watching a third stone giant appear from behind the range. It was bigger than the other two and heaved a giant rock above its head. It throws it at one of the first two, knocking it across its head. The impact caused it to stumble, and the leg holding the rest of the party hit the mountain side, crumbling to pieces.

Thorin rushed over, his face distraught. "No! No! Kili!" he screamed, trying to look passed the dust.

Y/N felt the ground beneath her give way. The protective hand on her stomach had disappeared and she turned around as quickly as she could to grasp the edge of the cliff. Her voice died in her throat, as the rock crumbled around her, and the party regained their stances.

As the dust and deluge settled, the form of the rest of the company made way. "We're all right! We're alive!" Balin shouted.

She felt her fingernails splintering from how hard she was holding on. The halves of the company rejoined each other, and she tried to find her words to call for help.

Bofur looked around, smacking the arms of the other Dwarves, with panic rising onto his face. "Where's Y/N Where's our Hobbit!?"

Everyone quickly searched, Dwalin grabbing at the empty part of his sleeve, and Ori gasped. "There she is!" He pointed to a pair of fingers holding tightly to the ledge, and knuckles turning white.

 "Get her!" Dwalin shouted, one of the first to drop to his knees.

Bilbo collapsed to his stomach at the edge, reaching out for her hand. As his fingers graze over her arm, her fingers slipped from the rain, and she fell down farther. She gave out a yelp, her feet kicking at the cliff, trying to find a ledge.

Thorin pushed everyone aside, rushing to her side. "Hold on!" he said. He jumped down the cliff, holding onto the edge with one hand.

She nodded, trying to swallow the fear and terror inside her throat. He grabbed her waist, lifting her up and sending her over the ledge. Dwalin quickly pulled her away, as she scrambled up, leading her back against the mountain. Then he grabbed Thorin by his arms and pulled him up as well.

“Oh gods…” she rasped, clutching her chest. “I really almost died there.” Bilbo sat next to her, rubbing a reassuring hand over her shoulder.

Dwalin panted, leaning against the wall for support and keeping her back. "I almost thought we lost our Hobbits."

 Thorin grunted, fixing his coat, and glaring at the two. "They've been lost ever since they left home. They should never have come. They have no place amongst us." He glanced down at Y/N, as she tried to steady her breathing, and walked into the cave.

Bilbo looked to her, ready to say something of comfort, but she held up a hand. “I’m fine, Master Baggins. I’m quite right.” He helped her stand anyway, keeping her close to the wall, and followed the Dwarves into the secluded cave.

Dwalin walked in first, holding a lantern out in front of him. "It looks safe enough."

Thorin pointed farther in. "Search to the back; caves in mountains are seldom unoccupied."

Dwalin quickly checked, as everyone filed in and smiled. "There's nothing here."

Everyone gave out a happy sigh and began to throw their things down. Y/N let her bag fall from her shoulders, a soft thud against the sandy floors. She thought how strange it was for a stone mountain range, where there was barely any dirt or foliage, had sand. But after the events she was far too in a haze to speak up.

Gloin threw down a bundle of sticks and rubbed his hands together expectantly. "Right then! Let's get a fire started."

"No," Thorin said quickly, holding his hand out. "No fires, not in this place." He looked around the ceiling of the cave. It was clear he too didn’t quite trust the environment, but after the battle no one’s mind was working quite as clear as needed. "Get some sleep. We start at first light.

Balin looked at him puzzled, and perhaps a bit concerned. "We were to wait in the mountains until Gandalf joined us. That was the plan."

"Plans change," Thorin snapped.

Y/N looked up, her legs like jelly as she walked over to the leader. “But Gandalf is surely to join us,” she protested. “He is expecting us here.”

“Save me your sentiments,” he ordered, tipping closer and closer to a shout. “If your relations to the wizard prevent you from following, then you can stay behind.”

No one moved. Hardly a breath was exhaled after such a statement.

“Bofur, take the first watch.”

As the night continued on, Y/N found herself asleep next to the entrance of the cave. It was the farthest she could be from the pile on Dwarves, while still shielding her from the outside world. Bofur, who was standing watch, found that watching her sleep was a rather good pastime to the peaceful night. She laid on her side, with her lips opened slightly, and her eyes completely calm.

He tried not to think about how had he not notice her absence it might’ve been too late to save her. He also tried not to think what her decision would be come morning. She held her own, and she was strong as vinegar, but a single Hobbit in the wilderness with giants… he only hoped that if she stayed behind Gandalf was not far.

He could have watched her for hours, until Bilbo stepped over her on his way out of the cave.

“Where do you think you're going?” he asked, jumping up to stand behind him.

Bilbo took a deep breath and sighed. "Back to Rivendale," he replied.

Bofur looked at him confused. Were all Hobbits set on going out alone? “No, no, you can't turn back now, you're part of the company. You're one of us.”

Behind him, Y/N rustled awake. She yawned silently and looked to the two. “What is with all the chatter? Is it not difficult enough on this stone to sleep?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Bilbo's trying to leave,” Bofur said quickly.

Her eyes widened, the sleep leaving her immediately, and she stood up quickly. “Leaving? You can’t just leave. You’re our companion; one of us.”

“I’m not though, am I?" he accused, quite annoyed. “Thorin said I should never have come, and he was right. I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins, I don't know what I was thinking.” His own name sounded like an insult on his teeth. “I should never have run out my door."

“You can't let what he said stop you," Y/N urged. “The stubbornness of Dwarves and all. Certainly, you can keep up with his words. He spoke the same of me, and I’m staying.”

Bofur perked up. “You’re staying?”

“Well, you're different.” Bilbo glanced back at the cave entrance.

“How so? I understand just as well as—"

“No, you don't, you don't understand!” he snapped. “None of you do ­-you're Dwarves and Wizard-kin! You’re used to-to this life, to living on the road, never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere.”

The words hit directly in their chests. They looked to each other, trying to hide their own hurt, but it was quite clear that the statement was true.

Bilbo's expression softened and he sighed. "I am sorry, I didn't..."

Bofur placed his hand in Bilbo's shoulder. "No, you're right. We don't belong anywhere.” The Dwarves slept unaware, and he looked sadly and lovingly over them. He turned back and gave the best smile he could. “I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do.”

“Aye,” Y/N continued. “Once you find where you’re meant to be… well, I’m sure I wouldn’t give it up for anything.”

Thinking he would never see her again, he held his hand against her cheek, rubbing a thumb across her skin. Then he let go, and her and Bofur turned to leave.

Before she could take a step, Bofur held his arm out, stopping her from moving. "What's that?" he asked.

She followed where his eyes were gazed and landed on the cracks forming in the rock. The suspicious sand was falling down the stone, stretching from the entrance of the cave to the very back, completely under every Dwarf. Y/N whipped around, seeing Bilbo still standing in the end. He unsheathed his sword and watched as the wall lit up with its bright blue glow. “Mercy be given…”

Thorin suddenly leaped up from his cot, running around and smacking everyone awake. "Wake up! Wake up!"

But before anyone could get their bearings, the floor around them collapsed and they all fell through.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five: Oh, And I Digress

Word Count: 6,220 words

Warnings: threats of torture, threats of beheading, battle gore, injury, death (but he gets better), Thorin being stupid, and then having a change of heart

**

Bofur and Y/N clung to each other, as they slid down the wet rock through carved tunnels. She couldn’t help but scream with the rest, and Bofur hugged her face into his chest, trying his hardest to shield her.

They were soon flying through the air and landed in a giant wooden cage. The wind was knocked from her lungs, as the company cluttered together in such tight quarters. She looked around, barely having time to stand, and watched as Goblins overrun them, grabbing their weapons and supplies.

“Thorin!” she shouted, noticing him in front of her.

“Stay together!”

 One Goblin grabbed her shirt, and his sharp nails and hands began to rip it. Thorin turned at her scream, and kicked it away, protectively putting his arms up to block her.

More and more Goblins overran the cage and pulled them out one by one. Y/N was pulled out by her hair, thrashing at the perpetrator as he strung her along. She managed to punch him in the nose, knocking him back and sending him falling down the dark cavern. Any other that dared come close to her, she did the same.

But knocking a couple Goblins down from the walks could only do so much. The whole company was herded like cattle, being pushed forward through the horrid place. The only light was from lanterns and torches, sending dust and ashy yellow across the walls. The wood was rotting, and boards being fixed with femurs and spines. They were stopped in front of a giant throne, constructed with sharp spears and bones, where a giant Goblin sat on top of it. His beard was made of the same skin that covered his body, and he wore a crown of bones and corpses.

“Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?” the king demanded. “Spies? Thieves? Assassins?" His incredulous tone rose higher and higher, smashing his scepter against the wooden floor.

A Goblin grabbed for Y/N’s head, grabbing her hair by the roots, and snatching her before Thorin could grab her back. "Dwarves, Your Malevolence. And this creature with them." He threw her in front, sliding her across the wood.

She stood quickly, kicking the Goblin back, before looking to the king and spitting at his feet.

He seemed unbothered by the sign of disrespect. “Dwarves? And this thing?" he asked, eyeing her carefully.

“We found them on the front porch," the Goblin wheezed, clutching his stomach.

“Well, don't just stand there; search them! Every crack, every crevice."

The Goblins run them for a third time, grabbing at their belongings. Even Oin's hearing trumpet was snatched and stomped underfoot. When a Goblin reached for Y/N's dagger, his fingers lingering to her trouser band, she placed a barefoot against his face and kicking him back. “Perverted creatures!” she hissed.

When the Goblins were satisfied with their findings, they cleared way, leaving the company standing in the middle of the crowd.

The king looked over them, trying to analyze. But Y/N thought his brain wouldn’t be big enough to produce even two thoughts to rub together. "What are you doing in these parts? Speak!"

None of them spoke.

"Well then, if they will not talk, we'll make them squawk!” Cheers erupted. “Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker! Start with the girl!"

A Goblin lunged for Y/N, clearly not learning from the mistakes of his kin, but Thorin stepped in the way and pushed her back into the group of Dwarves. They held her back, as she looked with bloodlust to the one trying to grab her. The Goblin finally got the hint and scuttled away in fright.

“Wait," Thorin said, stepping forward.

The king looked over him. "Well, well, well, look who it is. Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror; King under the Mountain." He laughed as he pretended to bow, greatly praising him. "Oh, but I'm forgetting" he said, stroking his skin beard, "you don't have a mountain. And you're not a king. Which makes you nobody, really."

Y/N stomped forward, her blood still boiling. The Dwarves held her back, whispering in hushed tones to stop. "He's twice the king you'll ever be! You bloated pig’s corpse!" she shouted, angrily twisting against her restrains. Thorin didn’t let the Goblin king see his surprise, but the other Dwarves could not hide their glee at her insult.

The Goblin didn't seem to mind her outburst, and instead tapped his head. "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached.” Only then did he give attention to the Hobbit, who was still fuming. “And maybe that little minx back there. Perhaps you know of whom I speak, an old enemy of yours. A Pale Orc astride a White Warg."

Thorin's shoulder went rigid, taken aback by his comment. The company looked at him for his next move. "Azog the Defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle long ago."

The king laughed loudly, his enormous belly shaking and jiggling. "So, you think his defiling days are done, do you?" He laughed once more and pointed to a goblin aside, sitting with a slate in his hands in a basket. "Send word to the Pale Orc; tell him I have found his prize."

The small Goblin laughed loudly, scribbling the message down, and pulled a lever. He disappeared down into the darkness, leaving the company with an unspoken question.

As the Goblins return with torture weapons, Y/N’s eyes began to dart. Her hand over her dagger became less and less comforting, and the prospect of being mangled was only growing.

"Bones will be shattered, necks will be wrung! You'll be beaten and battered; from racks you'll be hung. You will lie down here and never be found, down in the deep of Goblin­town." the king sang loudly, laughing maniacally.

Kili moved closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer to the middle of the group. She jerked away, much more frightened, and violently than he had anticipated. He looked more worried, and gently took her hand. "It's okay. Nothing is going to hurt you." He helped her up, as she tried to stop the tremors that were shooting through her body.

One of the Goblins opened up Thorin's sword, only a few inches, and then hissed and threw it in horror. The blade revealed more of itself, and the goblins reeled back in terror.

"I know that sword!” the king shouted, pointing a horrid finger to it. He climbed atop his throne, trying to escape the sight. “It is the Goblin Cleaver, the Biter, the blade that sliced a thousand necks."

The Goblins outrageously leaped onto the company at hearing this, biting and gnashing their teeth as they began to tie them up.

Y/N sliced at a few, nicking fingers and ears, causing howling screams to unleash.

"Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all!” The king was in a blinding state of anger, calling more Goblins to join in the attack. “Cut off his head!"

Y/N looked to Kili and locked one of her elbows in his. He nodded, and locked the other as well, so their backs were to each other. She leaned back as he leaned forward, lifting her off of the ground with her feet in the air. He began to spin, and she kicked every Goblin she could, sending them flying down the cavern. When an opening was made, she slipped her arms out and she rushed to Thorin's side. She ripped the goblins off of his arms and threw the carving knife down the pits.

“Now’s not the time to lose your head!” she shouted, handing him his sword.

He did a double take, wiping his hair from his forehead. “Was that a pun?” he asked, unsheathing his blade.

A smirk tugged at her lips. “Not intentionally.”

Suddenly, there was a massive explosion of bright light. It was unadulterated by shadow or streaks, sending the yellow flames of the cavern back. The sound was so loud it deafened the ears of the listeners, and a shockwave ripped through the area. Goblins were sent flying through the air, and the machines were destroyed and crumbled. Everyone was knocked back, including the Goblin king. When the force of the wave had passed, most of the lights in the area had been blown out, and a figure in a pointy hat remained.

Gandalf.

He turned around, holding his staff in one hand and Foe Hammer in the other. "Take up arms!" he ordered, gesturing to the pile of stolen items. "Fight. Fight!"

The company rushed to their weapons, grabbing them quickly and slashing at the attackers. Y/N scrambled for her sword, returning her dagger to its sheath. She was never trained in sword fighting and hoped beginners’ luck would pull through in battle.

Gandalf slashed through a wave of goblins with his own blade, causing the king to fall and begin to cry out. "He wields the Foe Hammer," he sniveled. "The Beater, bright as daylight!" He sent more Goblins out, not caring that many were lying dead around him.

The king rushed forward with his mace above his head, aiming to crush it atop Nori, who was lying flat on his back from the onslaught.

"Nori!" Y/N shouted. Quickly, she ran forward and raised her sword above her head, deflecting his blow, and slashed back, causing him to stumble backwards. The impact was heavy on her arms, and she felt how her bones rattled from the force. She pushed through it, and sliced at the king’s feet, causing him to yelp in pain, before falling back into the pit of darkness. “Scum,” she muttered, wiping the sweat from her brow.

She turned around, ignoring the awed looks she was receiving, and extended a hand to Nori. “This is my payment to saving me from being crushed by the Dwarf prince.”

He nodded, his jaw slack as she hoisted him up.

"Good." She quickly ran to Gandalf's side, as the party ran back to find stairs. "It's about time you showed up."

"I was a little busy waiting at the rendezvous point!" he grumbled, looking about the cavern walls. “Follow me. Quick! Run!”

As they rushed across a bridge, with thousands of Goblins following close behind, Gandalf stopped quickly, as more were swarming towards them from the front. He gestured for the Dwarves to start suggesting a way or trick out, as they were about to be covered.

"Post!" Dwalin yelled, beginning to hack away a large log from the guardrail. Other Dwarves followed his lead, chopping it down like it was a standard oak in the forest. Splinters sprung from each whack, flying about like confetti. When the post finally fell, with an old creak, him and several others picked it up like a ramming ore. "Charge!" he yelled, running at the hoard straight on.

The post knocked the creatures out of the way, like a giant spear. They pushed back most of the hoard, until they had the playing field to their advantage. They suddenly dropped it, after pushing back many of the Goblins, and Dwalin charged with his axe.

Y/N followed his lead, aiming not to fight but to push through, knocking each fighter over the edge or out of the way. As the massacre continued, with each person using their collective fighting skills, she grew impatient and eventually ran past Dwalin, who was attacking with his many axes, and charged towards the hoard.

"What are you doing, lass?" he shouted, throwing another Goblin off of the walkway.

She grabbed her dagger, fixing it in her hand to slash behind her, while dual wielding her sword to attack her front. "You have to cut the ropes!" she shouted, slicing the nearest hold. “If we need to go down, then go down they must first!”

Thorin looked around and saw that the bridge was only being held by a series of ties. "Do as she says! Cut the ropes!"

The Dwarves begin to slice at the ropes, taking a few seconds to saw all the way through, and eventually the way began to fall. Y/N was stationed on the stable side of the bridge, slashing at the Goblin’s that gathered about her feet. "Time's up!" Dwalin yelled, grabbing the back off her collar, and pulling her back. The floor beneath her feet disappeared as she was pulled into another run.

The Goblins swinging in, from higher ground, quickly got tangled in the rope and hang meekly in the air, still shouting.

As arrows were flying all around them, Kili deflected most with his sword and quickly grabbed a neighboring ladder. He slammed it onto their heads, their necks getting caught in the poles, and sent them across the floor and over the canyon. As the Goblins fell into the darkness, the ladder held on to the two sides and created a makeshift bridge.

Dwalin, who was behind Y/N crossed and then quickly broke the ladder before any of the goblins could make it across.

“Heavens, does every Dwarf just have these on-the-go survival skills?” she shouted, pumping her arms so she could keep up.

“Less talking, more doing!”

They arrive at another suspended path, where they cut the ropes like before. As the pathway began to swing, another side came close and empty. "Jump!" Thorin ordered. Most landed on the other side, however, a few dwarves and Gandalf were left on the swinging pendulum. As the swung back to where they began, more Goblins jumped on.

“Gods, give it a rest!” Y/N shouted, as Kili grabbed her arm and pulled her to the end of the swinging bridge. They quickly jumped back to the other side, and destroyed the ropes, letting the bridge fall with its unlucky attackers still aboard.

"We have to get down!" someone shouted, although Y/N didn't know who.

They ran through a maze of pathways, being led by Gandalf, until they made it to a bridge in the middle of two large stone walls. But before they could cross, the goblin king broke through the middle, sending boards flying, blocking the path, and laughed maniacally. "You thought you could escape me?" he demanded, chuckling.

He swung his mace at Gandalf, who in turn stumbled back. The king laughed again. "What are you gonna do now? Wizard?"

Angered, Gandalf stepped forward and poked his staff right into the king’s gigantic eye. Having seen how pointed the end of that staff was, Y/N hardly thought he would be able to see out of it every again.

"Ow ow ow!!" he shrieked, dropping his mace to cover his wound.

Then Gandalf sliced over, cutting his round stomach like jelly.

The company collectively winced as the king covered his wound to keep everything from spilling out. Y/N even had to swallow back her vomit, just thinking about how terrible that mess would smell.

"That would do it," he croaked, before the wizard sliced his neck.

The king fell down, dead, and began to shake the bridge with his weight. The company braced themselves, as the beams under the bridge began to snap like twigs and gave way. Their section broke apart from the other and began to slide down the chasm with great speed. They screamed as the darkness grew closer, their deaths at the door. However, the other wall was closer than it appeared, and they slammed into it.

The bridge broke apart, until it was nothing but rubble, and they hit the ground with the bridge landing on top. Y/N braced the wood on her back with all she could, feeling how trapped she was under the weight. She looked up from her place under the rubble and saw Gandalf inspecting the Dwarves still underneath.

"Well, that could have been worse," Bofur managed, trying to bring light to the horrid situation.

And the Goblin king’s giant body landed right on top of them.

"You've got to be joking!" Dwalin shouted angrily, wriggling underneath the weight.

"To whomever said we need to go down," Y/N gasped, crawling out from underneath a beam. "We went down." She wriggled around, watching as her wizard stood still, inspecting the caves. “Gandalf," she said, grabbing the wizard’s attention. "If you could help us out of the rubbish before looking for the way."

He bristled in his beard. "Oh, yes! Right."

He went to her first, and she rolled her eyes. "Get someone else! I’m fine!"

And so he did.

Her foot was caught underneath a heavy beam, and she felt the corners digging into her ankle. She winced as she pulled it, only deepening the cut. Trying to turn onto her back, so she could sit up, she hissed in pain.

Suddenly, the weight was lifted off of her. She looked up and saw Dwalin holding the beam, above her. She gave a thankful nod, crawling out and bringing herself to stand. "Thank you, Master Dwalin."

He grunted in response. “Are you alright?”

“Why, are you worried about me?” she teased, turning with a laugh. He was grateful she looked away and couldn’t see the heat rising to his cheeks.

They ran straight out of the cave, following Gandalf’s lead into the light of the setting sun. Y/N had never felt so happy and free to smell fresh air and see the natural light of the sun above her. The party was battered and bruised, and probably very disgusting from being covered in Goblin blood, but still in one piece.

Gandalf counted as they ran out, mumbling to himself. "....and 14. Where is Bilbo?" he asked, looking around. "Where is our burglar?"

Dwalin turned around to see everyone, shaking his head. "Curse that Halfling! Now he's lost!?"

"I thought he was with Dori!" Gloin shouted.

"Don't blame me!" Dori shouted back.

"Well, where did you last see him?" Gandalf asked, having to bend his back to hear better.

Nori ran up. "I think I saw him slip away, when they first collared us."

"What happened exactly? Tell me!"

The company looked to everyone for answers, as to where their burglar had gone.

"He must've fell down with us!" Y/N said, getting everyone’s attention. "He didn't make it out of the cave! He was the first to notice the blue light to alert us of Goblins.”

Thorin stomped to Gandalf, set off by her defending words. "I'll tell you what happened. Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it! He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door!” The Dwarves listened to him, and while none were pleased with what he said, none disbelieved his words. “We will not be seeing our burglar again. He is long gone."

Y/N's shoulders slumped a bit, as she tried to keep a strong face. “That is not true!” she shouted.

The wizard reached for her, trying to stop her from marching up to the leader. “Y/N—”

“No, Gandalf!” She shrugged him off, getting very close to Thorin. “You need not believe in him, but I do. Your Dwarven brothers look to you because you believed in them,” she gestured to the company, “and because you swore to protect them. You never extended that fellow loyalty to Bilbo and I, despite our constant devotion to you.” Her eyes burned brightly, and she thought her heart would leap from her throat.

“I don’t know what you heard,” she continued. “But you are wrong. You heard a man who gave up the life he knew for you, and you have said nothing but harsh words and criticisms to him. He did what you told him to do, Oakenshield. He tried to leave because you said you did not need him. So, how dare you speak ill on his name for following your orders.”

Thorin’s face darkened, and he kept his gaze, inches from her own. “Do you insinuate that coward followed us and fought for us in there?”

She locked her jaw. “I would bet my life on it.”

“Then where is he?” He gestured around to the company, and to the open end of the mountain. “I do not see him. He is not here because he left us. He did not fight with us. He did not because he is not a warrior. He. Is. Gone.”

The Dwarves looked at each other with sorry expressions.

For just a second, Y/N eyes fluttered down, wondering if she was wrong. If Bilbo saw the party fall, watched as they became trapped, and left anyway. Because he was too scared to help them.

"No, he isn't," said a voice. From behind a tree, Bilbo walked out to everyone, his face stern and serious.

Y/N couldn't help but smile widely. She pushed back Thorin, who bit his tongue in between his lips, and ran at him. "Bilbo!" She jumped into his arms, giving him a giant hug, and pulling him close. “I almost gave my life betting you were still with us,” she whispered in his ear.

He tenses up for a moment, then hugged back. “It’s a good thing you are always right.”

She pulled away and looked at his face, a bit concerning at his flushed face and sweat. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"You have no idea."

Gandalf gave a hearty laugh, tapping his staff against the ground. "Bilbo Baggins! I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life!" He quickly adjusted his smile when Y/N cleared her throat. “Save for my apprentice, of course.”

Bilbo rejoined the group, patting Balin on the shoulder with affection. The old Dwarf looked very pleased, his eyes twinkling.

Kili and Fili rushed up to him, smiles covering their face from ear to ear. "Bilbo, we'd given you up!" Kili said, looking him up and down.

"How on earth did you get past the Goblins!?" Fili exclaimed.

Dwalin looked a bit mystic. "How, indeed," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bilbo hesitated. He looked at the group, who was excited for a story, and sighed. He placed his hands on his hips and shrugged. "I just... slipped by." He placed his fingers in his pocket, as if reaching for something, and smiled at Y/N.

She smiled back. “The ways of the Shire?”

“Aye.”

Gandalf shook the strange look from his face. "Well, what does it matter? He's back!"

"It matters!" Thorin interrupted, knocked from his trance. "I want to know. Why did you come back?"

Bilbo looked around, and he saw Bofur’s sad face as Y/N gave a comforting rub on his back. "Look, I know you doubt me,” he started, “I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books. And my armchair. And my garden.” He looked to each Dwarf as he spoke. “See, that's where I belong. That's home." At the word of home, Y/N looked up with a soft expression. "And that's why I came back because you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can."

The Dwarves digested what he said, taking it close to heart, and Gandalf gave a soft smile. Bilbo of Bag End seemed to change, and for the better.

The sound of howling interrupted their moment, and they looked back at the mountain. Orcs on top of Wargs rode down the side, charging at them.

Thorin's eyes widened, as he grabbed his sword. "Out of the frying pan..."

"...and into the fire!" Gandalf finished. "Run! RUN!"

They ran down the mountain, as the Wargs snapped at their heels. One ran at Bilbo, gnashing at his head. Bilbo ducked and the beast tumbled over. He readied his sword, and the Warg ran into it, impaling itself. He looked down at his own hands, surprised by his actions, and grabbed his blade back.

The company came to a halt and stared out. The only way down from there would be to fall to a terrible death. Thorin looked at the few trees on the cliff, which were only feet away from being over the edge. "Up into the trees, all of you! Come on, climb! Y/N climb!"

She quickly sheathed her sword and grabbed onto a low hanging branch, pulling herself up. Her hands were still cut and hurt from her nasty fall during the thunder battle, and the bark of the large pines only stung worse. She gestured for their burglar to hurry, and Bilbo ran up after her, climbing as fast as he could.

Wargs surrounded the tree, of which the full company was perched. They jumped into the air, trying to bite at the branches and catch any limbs they could. Their large paws scratched at the tree, like axes to the wood, and it was only a matter of time before they either climbed, or the company’s refuge fell.

Y/N climbed up next to Thorin, who was looking out to the mountain. "Azog?" he asked to himself.

She looked to where his gaze lied and saw a white pale Orc, riding a snowy Warg. His left arm was replaced with a sword stuck inside his stub. His face was slashed with pink scars and his smiled evilly. It was clear that the Goblin king was being truthful, and the messenger had sent word very quickly to lead them here.

Azog said something, calling out to the king that Y/N did not understand.

Thorin, however, heard it loud and clear, his face being stricken with pain and grief. She could only wonder if the Orc had done something terrible to the Thorin’s missing father, the fallen king.

"It cannot be..."

Azog commanded something in Black Speech, pointing his sword arm at Thorin. Then the Wargs leaped into action, knocking into the tree and clawing at the trunk. The tree shook violently, and the Dwarves tried to hold on, in fear of falling. The beasts began to climb it, uprooting it and sending the tree toppling to the other.

The Dwarves leaped to the neighboring tree, until that one began to fall as well. Y/N found herself inches away from Wargs, trying her best to keep up with the vertigo rushing through her body. All the company landed on the very last tree, the tallest on the edge of the horrific cliff.

Gandalf, sitting at the top of the pine, grabbed a pinecone and lit it with his staff. He threw it at an oncoming Warg, and it ran back in fear of the flames, and licking its fur. He began light more pinecones, handing them to different Dwarves. They chucked them in resistance, hitting the fallen trees and lighting them on fire. Y/N took one in her own hands, wincing at the heat, and chucked it directly at a Warg below her. It whimpered, fleeing with its tail between its legs.

The cliff side became overrun with flames, sending the Wargs running back in terror. They cheered, loudly, as their enemy was retreating, leaving only the Orcs behind the wall of flames to remain.

But celebration was cut short, as the roots began to snap, and the tree fell. The roots held on to the side of the cliff, as the Dwarves tried to hold on. Y/N shouted, holding onto Bilbo to keep him from slipping. Her feet kicked empty air and she stared down at the ground far below, contemplating her next move at such a defeat.

Ori shouted, and she saw that he was slipping. He almost fell, but Dori grabbed onto his leg and tried to keep them both up.

"Mister Gandalf!" Dori shouted.

He slipped from his hold on the branch, and grabbed Gandalf's staff, holding onto both it and Ori's ankle. "Hold on Ori!" he screamed.

Thorin, who was holding onto the branch next to Y/N, looked at Azog with hate. He had ridden his Warg past the flames and watched as the Dwarves were pushed to the outer world. Thorin snarled at him, pulling himself to stand on the trunk.

She looked on in horror. "You can't fight him! You have to have a clear mind!" she begged, but Thorin ignored her and drew his sword. She reached for his feet but had jumped from the tree back onto solid ground and charged at the Orc.

He lifted his sword to slice, but the Wargs paw swiped his head with intense force, and sent him flying, knocked him across the ground.

"Thorin!” Y/N cried in terror, clawing her way to pull herself up.

He wiped the blood flowing from his cheek and stood up. The ash and flames sent a flurry of soot everywhere, haloing the battle. He ran at Azog again, his face filled with malice and destruction.

Azog swung his mace, hitting Thorin in the face and knocking him far.

"Stop it!" she shrieked, bringing her leg up onto the trunk. The whole tree rattled, and the sweat of her fingers threatened to slip and cause her to fall.

Azog laughed with excitement, as she managed to dig her nails into the bark, clawing herself up in sheer will. His Warg grabbed Thorin, biting into him with his salivating jaws, and he yelled in pain.

Dwalin struggled ahead of her, trying to crawl his way over to Thorin. "No!" he shouted.

Thorin hit the Warg’s head with the hilt of his sword, right between the eyes to release him. Outraged, the Warg threw him several feet, landing on a flat rock. The impact went directly to his ribs and skull, and Thorin weakly moved his head, barely conscious.

Another Orc walked up to him, holding his sword right at his neck, and smiled. As he was about to bring his sword down, Y/N screamed loudly and jumped onto his back. He stumbled backwards, trying to grab hold of her. She lifted her sword high above his head and brought it down in his forehead.

The orc fell over, dead, and she pulled her sword out. She snarled at Azog, swiping her blades against one another.

She backed up to stand over to Thorin, who laid there unconscious. She held the sword out in front of her, waving it as Azog inched closer. He snarled a command, and the other orcs ran at her, raised their weapons high above their heads. “Halfling,” he growled, barely able to pronounce the Common Speech.

“Scum,” she hissed back.

But Kili, Fili, and Dwalin attacked back, after managing to get off of the falling tree. As they fought, giving cover, Y/N sheathed her blade and turned around to the leader. "Thorin? Thorin?" She placed her ear against his chest and heard the slightest heartbeat. "You're going to be okay," she said, her fingers shaking as she tried to apply pressure to his chest wounds.

A mace hit her against her side, knocking her over and away from Thorin's body. She gasped, feeling iron spit through her teeth. Her body hit the dirt with a thud, and she laid immobile. Azog stood over her, with his mace turning her face to look at him and smiled. He raised his weapon to kill her, when a loud shriek sounded through the night, and he looked up in shock.

Giant brown eagles swooped down, catching the Dwarves as they slipped from the tree, and knocked the Orcs back. The enemy ran away in terror, leaving only Y/N and Thorin on the ground. Giant talons carefully picked her up in one foot and Thorin in the other.

They flew away, leaving behind Azog who howled angrily after them.

As the eagles flew them to safety, Y/N watched as Thorin laid limp in its claws. "Thorin…" she tried to yell, but to no avail.

The eagles set them down on a giant stone rock, as the sun began to rise in the sky, and left as quickly as they had come.

Y/N crawled her way to Thorin, pressing her ear against his chest. She heard nearly no heartbeat; something so faint it was practically gone. Desperately, she placed her hands in the middle of his chest and began to push, trying to get his heart to beat again. "You'll be okay," she whispered, tears beginning to prick at her eyes. "Everything will be okay."

The company had gathered around, still in their horror and grief.

She continued chest compressions, pressing her entire weight into each pump. Then she pinched his nose, tilting his head back and pressing her lips to his, breathing air into his lungs. She kept going, tears streaming down her face. “Come on, Thorin. Wake up, wake up!”

Gandalf came up behind her. "Move, my dear." He placed his hand on Thorin's abdomen and whispered a spell.

Thorin's eyes fluttered open, as he gasped for a breath. When he finally managed to breathe, he sat up. "Where is the girl?" he asked immediately.

Gandalf smiled. "She is right here. She is safe."

The Dwarves landed after, surrounding Thorin in worry. Dwalin and Kili helped him up, asking quick questions of worry. He groaned as he stood, grabbing his stomach, and quickly pretending that everything was alright, shrugging off their hands.

His eyes landed on Y/N, who stood slack jawed and motionless. He marched forward, looking down at her with fierce eyes. "You!" he shouted, pointing his index finger at her. As silly as it sounded, she thought he was going to yell at her for performing CPR.  "What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed! Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild and that you had no place amongst us?"

She felt no fight left in her. She looked down in shame, refusing to meet his eyes in challenge.

Thorin's face soften and approached her quickly. He grabbed one of her arms, beginning to bring her close. "I've never been so wrong in all my life." And he hugged her tightly.

She tensed up as he held her close, and she let all the tears she had been saving fall from her eyes. Her arms wrapped around his torso tightly as she pressed her ear into his chest, nearly sobbing at the sound. She tried to stop the tears before he broke the embrace, stiffening her lip with her teeth.

As Thorin pulled away, he looked down at her and smiled.

She tried smiled back, but it quickly melted into anger. "You! You careless idiot!" she screamed, causing him to step back. "What were you thinking? Going after him? Alone?” She pushed her finger at his chest. “You almost died! You imbecilic, dense, stubborn Dwarf! You giant, egotistical king! You… you…" she trailed off, trying to think of something else to say. "You are the head of a company! What would we do without you!? We're here to help you regain the mountain and you go and pick fights!?" She hit his chest, rapidly with her fists. "We almost lost you!" She began to cry, still hitting his chest weakly. "You scared me. What if you had died? You foolish, foolish man…”

Thorin stopped her fists, holding them in his large hands, and pulled them close. "I am deeply sorry. I should not have attacked him. I will not leave you-- any of you-- behind."

Her bottom lip quivered as she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Hesitantly, he hugged her back.

"I am sorry I doubted you," he said, stroking her hair. “You have my deepest apologies.”

"I forgive you and your arrogance,” she sniffled. “But know I am still angry.”

Thorin laugh and pulled away. “Perhaps you are more Dwarf than Hobbit.”

“Perhaps one being Dwarf is why I’m angry in the first place,” she joked back, wiping her eyes.

He looked across the vast lands, and his gaze landed on the solitary mountain in the distance. Fog had settled across the treetops, and the light of the sun began to peak through the darkness.

"Erebor," Gandalf said. "The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great Dwarf kingdoms of Middle­ Earth."

"Home," Thorin said wistfully.

A bird flew overhead, chirping wildly as it flew in the direction of the mountain.

"A raven!" Oin shouted. "The birds are returning to the mountain!"

Gandalf looked at the bird and shook his head. "That, my dear Oin, is a thrush."

Thorin smiled at the sight of birds. "But we'll take it as a sign. A good omen,” he said, taking in his party.

Bilbo sheathed his sword and stood next to Y/N, who was wiping the soot from her face. "You're right. I do believe the worst is behind us."

Y/N sighed. "Oh gods, I hope so."

The company laughed, staring at the mountain in hope, as the sun rose into the sky behind them. A clean wind blew through them, as autumn was beginning to descend, and the end of coming with a close. While she had hopes that the worst had come and was dealt with, she remembered the howl of anger from the Orc, and her injured side pulsed at the thought. She doubted that was the last time she would see him.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six: It Takes a Woman to Make Him Compromise

Word Count: 7,214 words

Warnings: descriptive injuries, pining, nudity, implications of rated R thoughts, a single curse word used in description

***

"Master Oakenshield," Y/N said, approaching him, as he drank from his canteen. "I need to tend to your wounds." She held a kit in her hands, looking down at him from where she stood.

"I have told you; leave me be," he replied, waving her off.

"It is far too early in this morning for you to argue with me. That Warg didn’t tickle you, and I am going to treat this before we continue on." He looked up to her, watching as her face was stern and set.

Gandalf looked onward from the edge of camp and took a sip from his cup with a chuckle. "I believe Thorin will tire before Y/N ever will."

"Does she ever give up?" Balin asked, laughing, also watching the stand-off.

Gandalf grunted, haunted by his own arguments with her. "Rarely, if ever."

"Oakenshield, I will not ask again,” she continued, her voice raising.

"For the love of Erebor, I am fine!" Thorin shouted, standing to face her.

She flinched a bit, taking a small step back, but continued forward. "Gandalf may have healed you of your internal injuries, and brought you back from the brink, but he does not possess the power to heal all wounds. Should you be telling the truth, and have no wounds to treat, go ahead and show me.” She crossed her arms, holding the bandage roll in her hand, and tapped her foot.

Thorin looked at her, realizing it was a fight he couldn’t win, and sighed. "Fine, make it quick." He sat back down onto the rock, looking quite annoyed, and rolled up his sleeves. "Small scratches," he said, nodding his head to his arms.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't try to hide it. That Warg didn't just nip at you."

He glared up at her, but she only returned his look. He shed his coat and grabbed a bundle of his shirt in the back and pulled it off. He discarded the clothing on top of his coat and straightened his back. "Happy?" he asked. His chest was completely exposed, with years of work in the mines chiseled into his muscles. As he breathed, she could see them work underneath his tan skin. He was covered in dirt and sweat from the morning heat glistened over his shoulder. Bite marks riddled his abdomen, deep and pink puncture wounds.

She found herself staring, blushed, and quickly looked away. "Thank you.” She took out a wet rag and began to dab the wounds. She wiped away dried blood that had hardened on his skin, carefully erasing it with her cloth. "Let me know if I'm hurting you,” she said, having to wipe away dirt and grime from inside the holes as well.

He laughed. "I think I'll survive a cleaning," he replied.

She rolled her eyes, and carefully applied pressure to the individual marks. He held his breath as she pressed but made no movement or noise. The rag was turning brown and red from the old blood, and she was beginning to see his healthy skin once more.

As he stared down at her, he noticed how her eyes were squinted and her brows would furrow together in concentration. Her touch was delicate, but hard enough to get work done. Her fingers were scrubbed of dirt to stay somewhat sterile on the road, but he could still see the breakage of her nails and the scrapes and callouses of her palms.

Her sigh snapped him from his haze, as she looked closer to his abdomen.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"You'll need stitches. I think I may have a needle in my bag, but the thread is another story." She quickly got up, running back to her pack, and produced a silver needle. “Thread, thread, thread…” she muttered, looking about her bag. Her face quickly lit with an idea, as she grabbed at a piece of thread hanging from her shirt. She pulled at it, causing a rip at the hem, until a small pile laid in her palm.

"You are ruining your shirt," Thorin said, shifting a bit uncomfortably. He could see her skin through the line, and it was only a matter of when for the rest of the item.

"Your wellbeing is more important than some thread," she replied, pulling the last bit from the hem. She threaded the needle, tied it off, and aligned it with the first wound. "This may hurt." She began stitching him up, tugging at the thread to tighten it together. Thorin didn't make any sudden movements. Only flinched a few times as she made her way around.

Once she finished, she took the thread in her teeth and bit the end off, tying it quickly.

She wiped her forehead with her arm and set down the needle. "You'll have to lift your arms so I can wrap the bandages around your stomach." His eyes squinted, and he readied a protest on his tongue. She held a hand to stop him. "This would go a lot faster if you didn't complain the entire time."

He lifted his arms up, without saying another word, and she began to wrap. She placed the end on a middle wound, and slowly made her way to the back, pressing her head against his chest so her arms could reach. His breathing stopped. Her skin was so soft against his, and all he could think about was how he shouldn’t be thinking about anything.

"Do I hurt you?" she asked, pulling the roll back around. “If you need a break, I can stop.”

Thorin cleared his throat and shook his head. "No, not at all." He manually took every breath, as she went around his body, head bobbing back and forth from his chest.

Y/N finished quickly, tying off the end, and bandaging his arms as well. "Good as new," she said, with a smile, and stood back up. "That wasn't so bad, now, was it?"

Thorin looked passed her, staring at Balin, who was laughing a stupid laugh, and scowled. "No, it was not."

"You Dwarves and your pride," she muttered. "Always having to prove something. You can prove you have a head if you prevent such injuries from occurring."

"I do believe you were the one who ran in after me,” he asked, smirking. “So, tell me. How is your side?”

She gaped. "That is not the point!" she exclaimed. “I’ll get assistance should I need it.”

“Were you not the one who said it would go faster without such complaints?”

Y/N ran a hand lightly over her side, feeling the dull pain of the bruises at the impacted area. “It is not pride that prevents me from asking for medical attention.” Thorin raised a brow, standing from his seat. He was close to her, and she felt herself only get hotter from embarrassment. “I am not entirely comfortable with lifting my clothes in front of so many eyes,” she said in a hushed tone.

Thorin felt his neck turn warm, swallowing the quip in his throat.

“I know that is not something you can give much care to,” she continued. “But I would be more secure in medical if it were away from camp.”

He nodded, thinking about how heavy his tongue felt in his mouth. “We can step aside, should you need. I can also ask another if you request.”

“I think I’ll be fine. The faster this is started the faster it is done, yes?”

“Yes.”

She looked around, as if she was about to sneak off to do something nefarious and made way to the wood. Thorin followed behind her, leaving the rest of the party behind.

“Where is Uncle and Y/N going?” Kili asked Gandalf, who continued to sip his coffee.

“I think they’re going to dress her wounds,” he replied simply.

Kili’s brows knitted together, looking between a very smiley Balin and a very unbothered Gandalf. “Well, why must they do it in private?”

“I would assume it’s because it’s a private area,” Balin stated, gesturing to his own side.

Kili’s face flushed. “Do you think they need help?”

Gandalf didn’t dignify a response, and only clanged his empty cup against the Dwarf’s head.

“I don’t see camp anymore,” Thorin noted, once they had made it to a small clearing in the forest.

Y/N looked around, her fingers tapping nervously together. “Right… well, let’s get on with it.” She brought her hands to the hem of her now tattering shirt, and hesitated. “Make like a gentleman and turn around.”

“Apologies.” He rotated until he was staying at foliage, trying to ignore his thoughts from wandering much anywhere. After all, this was a wound dressing after a brave fight in battle. To think anything else would be disrespectful.

After a moment, she turned her back as well. “I’m ready.”

He took a step to look at her and froze in place. “Oh, Mahal, have strength.”

There she stood, the morning sun shining through the trees, and a soft light haloing her form. Her bare back was to him, purple bruises, and irritated slices up her side. But the first thing he noticed was that she had her back to him because her hands were covering bare chest away. She breathed softly, shifting from one foot to the other, as her shirt laid at her feet.

After only hearing silence, her head perked up. “Are you alright?”

This knocked him from his spell. “Yes! Yes, just… wondering if you’ll be comfortable standing.”

“There be no stools or stones, so this will have to do,” she replied with conviction. “So, let’s get on with it.”

Thorin tried to stay at her back, giving her that privacy as best as her could. Luckily, most of the injury was bruising. Terrible bruising, that would probably plague her for a few weeks or so, but bruising, nonetheless. The slashes that went up her skin were not deep enough for stitches, but they were red and orange with irritation. He tried applying cooling pressure, and she hissed through her teeth.

“Apologies,” he said, his voice barely going above a whisper.

“No need. I’ve had worse.”

He chuckled, lightly touching her elbow so that she would lift it. “Such as?”

She huffed, laughing a bit as well. “Well, I can’t think of any now that you’ve put me on the spot.”

“Sure, right right.”

Her laugh rang out. “I am serious!”

He did not joke back, suddenly very serious in his diligence. “I do not like how this particular wound appears,” he said, his eyes squinting.

She lifted her arm up, stretching her neck to look at her side. The rising sun was only causing glares in her vision, and she was unable to make out her own injuries. “How do you mean?”

“The yellowing concerns me. I think we may need some spirits to disinfect it.”

She swallowed. “Well, that’s not going to feel good, is it?”

He straightened up, clearing his throat and returning back to the stoic king. “Wait here. I’ll only be a moment.” And only a moment it was, as he returned with a small bottle of clear liquid and new clean rag.

“Oh, joy,” Y/N said sarcastically. “You’ve found it.”

“A moment of this is a small price to pay for your health,” he stated simply, dressing the cloth with the alcohol, and beginning to dap over the wounds.

“Oh, heavens have mercy,” she winced, jolting from the stinging pain.

Thorin tried his best to be gentle, only wiping where absolutely necessary. Her breathing was labored, as she forced each exhale to steady herself. With the silence of the clearing, and the shining of the sun, he was mesmerized by how her skin stretched over her muscles, how soft it looked. He nearly bit his own tongue off when in one particular deep inhale her arms lifted, and he could see the curve of the underside of her breasts.

“Are we almost done?” she asked.

He cleared his throat, shaking the thoughts from his head. “Yes. All better.” He wrapped the bandages tightly but keeping it only one layer to allow the wounds to breathe. “I’m sure you’ll be right by the end of the day.”

She sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. Now, if you could turn around once more.” He did, and she pulled her shirt back over her head, tsking at the holes that now riddled it.

“Forgive my intrusion,” he started, waiting for a sign of protest.

“Intrude, if you must.”

“Why did you run after me?”

She looked up, tucking the front of her top into her waistband. “How do you mean?”

“I mean… I am aware of my erroneous way. I did not show you much kindness or partnership these past few weeks, prior to the mountain side attack. Even before the event occurred, I spoke awful words that I wish I could now take back.” He stayed firm, standing with his posture secured and his eyes set ahead, but even Y/N could see how his words were paining him. “Why did you run after me? You had every right to save yourself.” She walked to face him, and he set his hands out with his palms upward. “Your injuries were preventable. I do not deserve your loyalty.”

She gave a soft smile, carefully cupping his hands in hers. “I have seen how caring you are to your kin. I have heard your words uplift them. Despite your actions to me, I know that you only meant good.” She let his hands fall, brushing a curl behind her ear. “I forgive you. You need not worry your heart of my loyalty any longer.”

Thorin watched her as she left, following a few steps behind her, thinking only of her soft touch and smile. Back at camp, she joined Kili and Fili, who were throwing daggers at a tree. He shook his head at her jovial nature, laughing to himself, and threw his shirt back on. He sauntered over to the dying fire, where a log was empty, and sat down next to his oldest friend.

Balin nudged him, and Thorin pulled his arm back. "What?" he asked, defense in his voice. He had quite the smirk and twinkle in his eyes.

"I might not be able to call her Miss after this journey is over," he said, laughing.

Thorin sat up straight, wiping the happy emotions from his face. "I don't know of what you speak."

Balin smiled, shaking his head, and leaned closely. "I can see you fancy her."

"I most certainly do not!" Thorin grabbed his own cup of coffee, taking a sip despite the pot being lukewarm. “Don’t insinuate such notions. They are the very reasons I opposed to her joining in the first place.”

But the old Dwarf just shrugged and shook his head. “I thought she fancied you as well.”

The king shook his head. “You shouldn’t say such ridiculous things.”

“I did not see it as being out of line. After all, she was quick to kiss you once we were to safety.”

Thorin choked on his drink, causing his friend to laugh loudly and slap him on his back. “I joke, laddie! Well, a bit. She was trying to save your life.”

Thorin’s head spun wildly, blasphemously cursing even Durin that he couldn’t remember. His hand touched his lips, wondering what it had felt like. When he saw Balin looking at him with a wild grin he dropped his hand and glared into his cup.

Y/N joined a few moments later, making the two Dwarves elbow each other to stay silent. She stopped behind Gandalf and tapped him on the shoulder. "Gandalf, we need to stop by a village to gather supplies."

Gandalf took his pipe out of his mouth and frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked, blowing smoke through his nose.

"I mean that we've used up the last of the bandages and we need food." She gestured to her clothes, where even her trousers were tearing. “And some new clothes as well.”

"Bandages, yes. Clothes, of course. But I doubt we need food."

She threw her hands up in the air. "How do you mean? I'm not sure about wizards but we need food to survive."

"You are an excellent hunter. We need not waste resources on such things we don't need."

Y/N huffed. "I'm not a hunter," she protested.

"Not when anyone is watching."

“Even solitary, I would hardly call my skill worthy much of anything.”

"You hunt?" Bilbo asked, a small smile creeping. He was enjoying a rather peaceful morning now that the princes were occupied in their game and not on pushing his buttons.

Before she could answer, Gandalf raised his pipe. "She most certainly does. What did you catch down at Rivendale? The Elves took her on her second ever most hunt, and she caught a giant boar. Practically bigger than herself."

She groaned, hiding her face in her hands as the party began to gather around. “Gandalf, I should have your tongue for spilling such private memories.”

“Hardly private when you shared the catch with the entire Elven court. As horrified as many of them were.” Gandalf winked at Thorin, who became more intrigued at the idea of Y/N plaguing the Elves. “Most being vegetarians and all. She cleaned the thing right in the middle of the dining hall.”

Gloin laughed loudly, slapping his knee with his fist. "What be your weapon of choice?"

She glared through her fingers at Gandalf. "Don't you dare."

“She was able to catch the thing with nothing but a bow and a carefully placed net. Shot it in the eye and corralled it before slicing it.”

She finally snatched the wizard’s pipe, using it to point at his face. “You can have this back when you learn discretion.”

As the Dwarves laughed, Bilbo inched closer. "Why are you so nervous about hunting?" he asked.

“I’m hardly nervous about the sport,” she said, smacking Gandalf’s hand as he reached for his tobacco. “But I chose not to continue such studies in favor of the arts. I’m probably utter rubbish by now.”

Dwalin’s nose scrunched. “Why in Durin’s name would you do that, lass?”

Gandalf burst out in laughter, and her face rose with heat. “Don’t you dare.”

He snatched his pipe from her hands, took a deep breath, and blew a butterfly through his lips. The little smoke creature fluttered around and hit Y/N in the face with a puff. As she coughed, occupied, he answered, “Her Ladies told her a change in studies would increase her prospects.”

Bilbo inched closer; an eyebrow raised. “Prospects in what?”

“Gandalf!”

“Marriage.”

The entire company had gathered round, interested in such telling’s of her life, but they all grew silent at that word. Gloin was perhaps the only one who did not have such a silent and stoic approach. “Marriage is great, lass. I love me wife, and me wee lad, Gimli.”

Y/N smoothed her hair from her face, composing herself from the embarrassment as best she could. “That’s wonderful, Master Gloin. But Gandalf speaks of a matter that should’ve remained in Rivendale. It’s a matter that’s not being pursued anymore.” She mumbled the last part, but a certain king and his friend could hear.

“I’ll say nothing more,” he said, holding his hands up in defense.

Before the round of questions could spur forward, Y/N used her hands to stop anyone from proceeding. “Gandalf is an old, old creature who finds enjoyment in the stirring of troubles and gossip. Please do not give him the satisfaction in asking me anymore questions.” Having put an end to such a humiliating topic, she grabbed her pack and looked to Thorin. “Is it not time we headed out?”

An hour or so into their marching, Y/N walked to Thorin and said, “I want you to train me.”

He raised a brow. “Train you? How do you mean?”

“I barely held my own against those Orcs,” she explained, her hands wrapped around the straps of her bag. “I know I’ve much to learn in the ways of combat, but I want to learn it nonetheless.”

“I admire anyone willing to harness their strengths, but I—like the rest of these Dwarves—do not hold back in teaching. You will need to be ready for failure.”

She nodded, very determined. “I am ready.”

She was not ready.

When they camped later that day, daylight was still in the sky, setting lazily behind the horizon. Y/N had been swallowing her nerves the entire day, as she fiddled with the hilt of her sword. To fight hand to hand was first, and Bofur stood ready. He had made making jabs and jokes the entire walk, and now he was shedding his layers until he wore only his cotton shirt, work trousers, and hat.

She had on her spare undershirt, with her trousers tucked in tightly to her boots and her belt looped secured around her hips. She had pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, making sure that the flurried curls stayed out of her face.

They gathered in the middle of a green pasture, with a few trees surrounding them. She had placed her sword between two rocks, and the rest of the company huddle together to sit on top of them.

"Must we really fight in front of an audience?" Y/N asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She could already here Fili and Kili placing bets and chuckling amongst themselves.

"It'll help with the concentration aspect," Bofur replied coolly, rolling his shoulders. "Help ya learn not to worry about the world."

"To be quite honest, I'm even worried about the trees at this point."

Bofur laughed and lifted his fists in front of his face. “Get ready, lass.”

She mirrored his stance, trying to square her shoulders to broaden her appearance.

Oin stood on the sidelines, his newly fixed hearing trumpet in his ear. "Try not to get knocked down and held for the count of three," he instructed, and the Dwarves chattered in laughter.

Y/N dropped her arms slightly. "Why three?"

 "Because by then you'll be dead," Bofur deadpanned.

She swallowed dryly. “Makes sense.” And readjusted her fists.

"Begin!"

Bofur didn't jump into action, like she had thought he would. Instead, he crouched his head and began to move around her. His feet crossed, one behind the other, as his head stayed level to the ground, as if floating through the pasture. She attempted to stay facing him, trying to push down her nerves. She mimicked his movements, keeping equal distance between them.

"That's good, lass," he commented, giving a genuine smile. "Try to keep moving." Suddenly, he lunged forward, causing her to stumble back. "At least try to keep your balance," he laughed.

She scowled at him, quickly fixing her feet, and resuming her movements.

He sidestepped, but quickly pivoted on the toes of his feet and charged at her. She yelped as he grabbed her waist and tackled her to the ground. She tried to wiggle out, but his arm was across her body, and he leaned against his hand on his elbow, barely even trying.

"And that's three!" Oin shouted, accompanied by a mix of cheers and groans.

Y/N glared at Bofur, who was smiling far too wide.

"You're so cute when you're mad," he said, as he pinched her nose, and got up.

She jumped up, ignoring the handout stretched to help her, and brushed off her pants. “Try that again, and I’ll be simply adorable.”

"Again!" Thorin ordered.

 Y/N wiped her nose and got in a ready position.

This time, she tried to move to the offensive, charging at him first. As she lowered her stance to tackle him, he merely laughed and grabbed her wrist. He twisted it behind her back and swept her feet with his boot. She fell hard, as he straddled her back and held her arm in one of his hands. "I must say,” he chortled, as she squirmed, “you surprised me when you ran."

"It didn't look like it," she grumbled, trying to shake him off. “Now get off me. That’s the call.”

"Again!"

The third time, she tried to leap onto his back when it was turned to her, but he ducked at her presence, and she grabbed nothing but air. She rolled over her and quickly got up, attempting to charge back at him, but he sidestepped and stuck his foot out to trip her. As she slid against the grass, dirt getting all over her chin, he stopped her and sat on her back. She tried to use her arms to push him off, but to no avail. He simply faked a yawn, causing the whole company to laugh.

 "Again!"

She wasn't really sure what she was trying to do as that point. She did a mix of fake stepping and real stepping, zig zagging and circling around him. It became clear that she was stalling, and he just stood still with his hands behind his back. She lunged to kick his head, but his hand stopping her swinging leg, and made her hop around. She eventually fell flat on her back, and Bofur proceeded to tickle her sides.

“No!" she laughed. "No! Stop it!"

"But your laugh is infectious!"

Tears began to pour out of her eyes as she wheezed out giggles. “I’m going to kill you!”

"Again!"

Y/N was patient this time. She kept her hands up in front of her face, circling him and he circled her. She didn't move her gaze off of him, as she slowly inched herself closer.

"Try to find an opening,” he instructed. “A weak spot, you might say. Go for uncomfortable, and less force." Each step they took was mirrored by the other, until a circle was indented in the green grass.

"I can think of one weak spot, but I’ll save you your dignity,” she answered.

He howled in laughter. “At this point, I’d say you need some sort of win,” he said, keeping up his motions.

She figured she'd go for his head, given how she hated the expression that stained his face.

"Interesting," he said. He ducked as she charged, grabbing her waist, and hoisting her over his shoulder. "If I go up, you go down." She protested, smacking his back as he spun around before he threw her off, letting her get her footing.

The world spun and she felt dizzy.

"Once they've lost balance," he continued, kicking the knees of her legs down, and making her fall back, "try to keep them down." He pinned her arms to the grass, cheekily smiling. "You look a bit flustered."

Y/N growled, and placed her foot on his stomach, sending him flying over his head.

She rolled over, bringing herself to a standing position. Bofur stood as well, shaking his shoulders. "Now that's more like it!" he encouraged, with a grin on his face. He started jumping more wildly, becoming unpredictable in his moves. His lips were moving in silent insults and jabs, making the seething rage rise in her chest. She charged at him, finally throwing a punch out of anger and humiliation. He opened his arms to let the hit make contact, and she landed directly in his sternum.

He stared down at the spot, with a bit of a worried expression. "Is that really how hard you punch?" he asked. "It felt like a tap."

The company oo-ed and laughed, and she clicked her tongue against her teeth. She sent a right hook into his jaw, the hollow sound echoing through the wood. "That's how I punch," she retorted, gaining cheers from the sidelines.

Bofur moved his lower jaw around, wincing a bit. "Not half bad. But I can't give you a win over one good punch." He took two large steps to her and grabbed her by the wrist. He pivoted quickly, pulling her on his back, and throwing her over his shoulder.

She stared at the sky, her breath knocked away from her, and stayed on the ground. Her muscles were too tired to pull her up to try again, and even the hard dirt felt too comfortable to leave.

Thorin, who had been watch intently with his arms crossed, waved off the scene. "I believe that's enough for one night," he said, finally ending the session.

Bofur walked over to the lying Hobbit and stuck out his hand. "You fought pretty well," he said, kneeling next to her.

She took a weak gasp of air. "I was going easy on you." She was pulled to her feet, with an aching wince. She rubbed her shoulder, on the arm she was thrown with, and Bofur laughed.

"I thought that wasn’t much of a challenge." He slapped her on the back, giving her a smile, and walked off.

“Heavens,” she murmured, as she rubbed her shoulder, her side, and her head. She winced as she stared at her hand, thankful no blood rested on her skin, and turned go to lie on her cot.

Thorin stood behind her, holding her sword out to her, and smiled. "You did well for your first time," he said, as she grabbed her blade.

"It feels like I got thrown around." She grabbed tender side, and walked back to camp with Thorin, limping a bit.

"You will soon be able to hold your ground."

"I can barely hold my weight right now." She plopped down onto a rock, next to her things, and set her sword down.

“Are you alright?” he asked, in a low voice.

Realizing that she was aching more than she wanted to, she quickly sat up, straightening out her crunched side. “Quite right,” she replied. “Nothing a quick trip to the stream won’t fix up.”

He clicked his jaw. “Are you going alone?”

A laugh escaped her lips, mostly from the incredulous notion of his questions. “You can’t be proposing that someone chaperone me.”

“No, nothing of the sort,” he assured, realizing how his inquiry sounded. “Only that I mean it is dark out, and the stream in the wood.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured, grabbing her dagger and blade from her pack. “Besides, I haven’t a proper bathe since Rivendale and that was over two weeks ago.”

She had already begun to walk away, before Thorin could protest further. “Miss Y/N! You can’t just wander about!” he called.

“It’s not wandering if I know my destination, Master Dwarf,” she yelled back.

He shook his head, as the fire in the center of camp lit up and an orange glow filled the mats and cots. He went to sit next to Bombur, who had just finished preparing the company a meal. A bowl was passed to him, and he began to eat as his nephews took their own helpings.

“Hey, where’s Y/N?” Fili asked, looking at the company present.

“Yeah, we want to offer her tips in pinning Bofur next time,” Kili added.

Thorin barely paused in his eating. “She’s at the stream.”

The two exchanged confused looks. “But we’ve plenty of fresh water already,” spoke Kili.

“That’s right. We made sure to fill her canteen full.”

“She’s not getting water,” Thorin explained plainly, trying to avoid conversation of Y/N going to wash.

Kili began to ask more, but his older brother caught on, backhanding him in the chest. “You don’t mean she’s bathing, do you?”

Their uncle huffed, clearly annoyed with their constant questions. “I am not entertaining this. She will return soon enough.”

“Is she the only one out there?” Kili demanded. “Gandalf, is she the only one out there?”

The wizard spun round from looking to the pasture, his pipe between his lips. He raised a brow. “Surely I’d allow the girl some privacy.”

“Who’s knows what’s out in these parts,” the prince continued, his brother nodding alongside him. “There could be Vampires or Werewolves! There could be Orcs, Uncle!”

Thorin sighed, making eye contact with Gandalf. “When I told my sister I would watch her sons with diligence, I did not think this was what I’d be doing.”

“Now you understand my constant evasion,” he replied.

Down at the stream, Y/N hummed to herself as she stepped out of her undergarments and into the cool water. It was chilly, much colder than she had thought, but the icy feeling eased her cuts and bruises, bringing a calm numbness over her aches.

She submerged herself down to her neck, looking about the starlit forest with a new peace in the world. In the quite stillness, she noticed steam rising up from a pocket of water, lined with smooth stones on the bay. Curious, she waded downward, and gasped happily at discovering an opening in a hot spring.

Shivering at the night air, she stood and stepped into the pool. “Ahhh hot hot!” she whispered, carefully lowering herself back into the water. “Oooh, that’s quite nice.” She leaned her head against the bay, continuing her happy humming as she relaxed.

Y/N didn’t know how much time had passed, but the silence broke when she heard rustling and twigs snapping behind her. She jumped up, frightened and reaching for her blade, and made eye contact with Bilbo.

Neither moved, having scared the other motionless. It wasn’t until his eyes snapped down then up did she scream.

He screamed back, smacking his hands to cover his eyes. “I didn’t see anything!” he said hastily. “I’m so sorry!”

“What are you doing out here?” she demanded, covering herself with her hands.

“Kili poured my water by accident!” He went to reach for his pouch, but she screeched again. “Sorry! Sorry! I’m not looking!”

More rustling was heard, and Y/N collapsed into the water, attempting to hide herself from further exposure. From the wood, Thorin rushed through, his sword drawn, and his teeth bared. Upon assessing the hiding Hobbit and the blind burglar, he huffed, and covered his blade. “You screamed.”

“Master Baggins snuck up on me!” Y/N said, sinking lower into the spring.

“Not on purpose!” he cried, still covering his face with his hands.

Thorin lowered his gaze, and marched to Bilbo, grabbing his collar. “Go back to camp and go to sleep.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Go!” And he threw him back into the forest.

He kept his gaze to the ground, before slightly turning to face Y/N, who remained completely submerged. “Apologies. No one should disturb you further.”

As he turned to leave, she grabbed the stones at the bay. “Wait!” He halted, his back to her, and she cleared her throat. “Can you stay?”

Thorin felt thankful he was not facing her when she asked, as his face felt hot, and his eyes widened at the question. “You don’t find that inappropriate—”

“Not like that!” she exclaimed quickly. “I meant, to stand guard.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “I am frightened.”

He sighed, not willing to admit he was melting at her words and nodded. “As you wish.” He sat down, staying faced to the tree line, with his sword in his lap. “Take your time.”

Her shoulders relaxed at his words, and she began to scrub her hair and massage her scalp. “How are your injuries?” she asked, rubbing the crown of her head.

“I’ve had worse,” he answered. “I am quite well.”

“That is good. I’ll have to take the stitches out soon now that your wounds should be closing.”

“You needn’t worry about such things. Oin is very skilled in his craft.”

She moved to rubbing the grime and dirt from her body, watching as the dust washed away. “I do not mind. I’ve studied advanced aid most of my life.”

“Well, thank you.” He listened to the water wade and splash from her movements, trying not to image what she was doing. “How are yours?”

“They are well. Practically healed. Part of me is sad to think that they will scar.” Thorin tilted his head to hear clearer and understand better. “I was always jealous of the warriors who had scars from battle. Showing that they had been noble and brave. It’s quite silly to think, but I am saddened for now realizing that scars are not achievements, but reminders.”

“They are a sign of bravery and nobility. This lot has plenty of stories behind their own.”

She wrung the water from her hair, standing from the steamy water and stepping into the pebble laid beach. “Perhaps those are stories to be shared around a fire.”

He laughed, staying still as she walked about to get dried. “More accurate to say a beerhall, or a pub.”

She tapped his shoulder, and he carefully and slowly spun to face her. Her wet curls settled on her shoulders, her clean(ish) clothes hugging her body. “I am finished,” she whispered.

“I can see that.”

Perhaps it was something in the evening air, or something about the way Thorin for once looked less like a stubborn Dwarf or egotistical king, but instead looked like a man. His fingers reached to brush against hers, wanting to interlace, and sending shivers up her spine. She wasn’t sure if it was him or her, but they looked at each other with a new sense of emotion and understanding-- perhaps longing-- and began moving closer to one another. She could feel his breath on her face, his lips only inches from her own, and felt a panic rise in her chest.

She wasn’t sure what came over her, but it was a fearful memory she couldn’t yet place. She pushed him back, more forcefully than she thought was appropriate in hindsight. It was a response she hadn’t yet experienced, and she didn’t even have a clear enough mind to wonder where it was coming from.

“Um…” Words evaded her.

Thorin looked as if he had been slapped, and he felt as if he deserved it. “P-pardon. Please forgive me.” He outreached his hand, but she did not take it, instead pulling her own to her chest. He retracted it. “Apologies. I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to offe—"

“Thorin! Y/N! Are you still out here?” Gloin called from the wood, making way to the stream.

They jumped, looking to where the call was coming from. “Yes, we’re fine Gloin!” Thorin responded, sounding a bit irritated. “We are heading back now.”

He looked back at her, and she gave a wavering smile, rubbing her arm. “Well, I suppose we should get some sleep.” They took another step away from one another, creating what now felt like a valley of space apart.

“Right.”

Y/N walked first, Thorin a few paces behind her, and returned to camp without exchanging another word.

Gloin gave a fatherly smile, as she settled under her blanket. “Did you have a refreshing time?”

“Pardon? Oh, right, yes. Yes, quite refreshing. I feel much better.”

“That is good. You should feel right as rain in the morning.” He snuggled down against a tree for his helmet resting at his side. She rolled over to her side, and for a moment of silence attempted to sleep. “I have a question,” he whispered suddenly.

“If it’s about my marriage prospects, you are not permitted to ask.”

“Very well, I will see you in the morning.”

She woke the next morning with her hair dry and frizzy, and her side aching with sharp pains. She pulled herself up right, clutching her side tightly. The camp was quiet as they awoke around her, sludging through coffee and tea and breakfast. No one seemed to notice how she stayed in her cot, hunched over in pain.

When it started to dull, she pulled her hand away and saw how her palm was bright red. “Gods,” she muttered. She realized that asking to train after dressing her wounds wasn’t the smartest choice. She thought about how that last flip was close to her side, and she wondered if the gashes had torn wider than the original wound.

“Is everyone ready to move out?” Thorin asked, his pack already on his back.

She looked to be the only one with her mat still open, and she quickly pulled a coat on to cover her side and packed her bag. “Yep, ready to go.”

They walked through lunch, eating pieces of bread and cheese in their single file. But however hungry she probably was, the pain rendered her too nauseous to eat.

“Are you okay?” Fili asked, walking by her side. “You look a little pale.”

She nodded. “I’m fine. Just tired from yesterday.” She didn’t think that anyone would be upset at her injuries, but she didn’t want to delay them. If she could make it to the next stop that night she would be able to clean it herself and go about the rest of the night.

“Have you eaten?”

“I will later.”

By the time they stopped for the night, she felt blood trickling down her leg. She sat down at a distance from the rest of the group, sweat beating down her forehead. She pulled her jacket from her body and laid it next to her, a large stain of blood under the arm. The sight made her sway.

“Miss Y/N, are you up for watch?” said a voice, fuzzy and far.

“What?” She turned toward the sound, and the movement drove the rest of her balance from her spine and she collapsed.

“Hey!” The owner of the voice came into focus as Thorin knelt down by her. His eyes lowered to her side, widening at the sight. “Mahala, Oin, get me a kit!” he ordered.

He lifted her tunic, wincing at the redness surrounding her ribs. The area that concerned him the previous day had opened wider, tearing jagged. Oin rushed to his side, quick to pour water over the area to clear it of dried and caking blood. She chuckled, a bit woozy, and lifted her arm. “Very forward, undressing a woman in front of the view of other men.”

Some of the others that had gathered coughed while the others laughed, diffusing the tension of her being unwell.

Thorin rolled his eyes, ignoring the warmth on his face. “How long have you known this was severe?” he asked. He thought he could stitch her up quick and have her rest the night, but that would be easier said than done. She was giggling widely, which he could chalk up to blood loss and weariness. “Hey, can you hear me?” he asked, leaning her face towards him.

“You’re loud,” she muttered, eliciting a laugh from him.

“Well, I wouldn’t have to be if you would’ve said something hours ago.”

“Remember when I said I had felt worse?”

“Yes?”

“This is worse.”

He rolled his eyes again, and waved his hand at the other Dwarves that had gathered round. “She’s fine, just stubborn.”

“You’re stubborn.” Then she giggled to herself, rubbing her eyes.

He started to sew up her side, shaking his head. “Don’t go passing out on me. I think Gandalf would have my head.”

She nodded, looking at him through the corner of her eyes. “Especially if you had to give me CPR the way I did you.”

Thorin’s face reddened, and Oin raised a brow at the exchange. “Yes, well, thank you for that. You have my life.”

“Bah, I don’t want your life. You’re far too grumpy to want that. Besides, it was nothing.” She hummed, sleepy from the pain washing away. She lifted her head to watch, pleased that only a few stitches needed to be done. “You have soft lips.”

He choked on his tongue, grateful that the company had gone back to their own doings. He finished rewrapping her bandages, and had Oin change her soiled shirt, and shook his head when the old Dwarf stared at him. “Do not start,” he ordered. “That goes for both of you.”

Oin shook his head. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

She laughed, sitting up and holding her side tentatively. “I meant no insult,” she told him. “I may have left you for dead if they were chapped.” Thorin stood from her side and tossed the cloth on her face, making her shriek in laughter. “Who knew the serious king was so easy to fluster.”

“Go to bed!”

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: I Would Not Ask and Neither Should You

Word Count: 9047

Warnings: mentions of kidnappings, mentions of SA, brief acts of violence, Thorin tries to murder someone

**

Combat with Bofur continued on an endless week of bruises, scratches, and pains. She was improving significantly, especially given among all her studies hand-to-hand was never a part of her training. But despite her great steps forward, her annoyance and impatience were growing. She was tired of Bofur’s taunts and laughs, and more tired of the grass stains in her clothes, that she was unable to replace due to there being very few towns in the wilderness.

Luckily, Y/N had convinced Bofur to wait on his supper and train as the others ate, so that at least there would not be an audience. At the start, he had her practice her punches at his hands, which she laughed at.

“No, absolutely not,” she said, her hands on her hips.

“Why not?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves.

“I’m not going to punch your bare hands,” she enunciated.

He scoffed. “Oh, please. I’d hardly feel a thing.”

She raised a brow. “Is that an insult?”

“Oh, I meant nothing by it. Dwarf hands can hold molten gems and stone. And I’ve yet to meet anyone with more burning than melted gold.”

“Hmm, well when you put it that way.” She readied her fists, as Bofur turned his palms to her. “I’m ready.”

“Now, I’m going to say one of four things. Left, right, left foot, right foot. Whichever I say, you do. You can throw whatever punch or kick at whatever hand, but you have to use the part I say. Got it?”

“Got it.”

He rubbed his hands together, widened his stance, and nodded. “Left.”

Direct impact. She kept the force in the center of her knuckles, her arm straight from wrist to elbow.

“Right.”

Another hit.

“Left foot.”

She swiped up, swiveling her hips and turning her body in the movement.

“Right foot.”

Again, keeping her balance as she switched between the two.

He started listing out rapidly, and she already felt the dull ache set in. She burned through it, knowing that if she continued, she would be able to hold her own longer. It was the hardest when Bofur would say the same thing more than three times in a row, putting immense pressure on just one side.

“You’re doing good, lass,” he commented, a smile on his face.

Y/N wiped the sweat from her forehead, her shoulders bouncing from her huffs. “Thank you. But I already feel exhausted.”

“Just a bit longer.”

He continued in his instructions, absentmindedly listing them off. It was actually quite nice. She started to get into the zone, adding her own style and twists to each throw. The payoff was more in view, and she felt how much more natural her stance and power became. She didn’t even notice when Bombur called from fireplace.

“Left foot—What, Bombur?” He turned to look at the Dwarf, his hands falling a bit, as Y/N brought her foot up in full force and knocked it directly into the side of his head.

He collapsed with lurch, laying unmoving on the ground.

“Bofur!” she yelled suddenly, snapping out of her haze. She dropped to her knees, gently cradling his face in her hands, bringing his head from the dirt. “Heavens, are you okay?”

His neck was limp, and his eyes were barely open as he looked around. “My head hurts,” he muttered plainly.

“Yes, I would think so. I conked you directly in the face!” She leaned in, trying to examine where her foot impacted. It was red, and a bit swollen, but nothing that wouldn’t fade morning come.

“You’re so pretty,” he slurred, a dumb smile spreading on his lips.

“Oh, hush,” she ordered, carefully running her fingers over the inflamed area. “Such talk makes me suspicious of a concussion.”

He laughed but winced at the movement. “Hardly. Only the truth.”

“Well, you can tell me the truth once we get some food in you and get you a long night’s rest.” She grabbed his hands, despite his limp elbows causing more hinderance than help. “Come on, you must at least give some assistance.”

“I don’t want to get up.”

That much is clear, she thought to herself, as he stood and then immediately toppled over her. “Oh, for goodness’ sake… Certainly you’ve experienced worse than this?”

“What is that lovely perfume?” he asked, dazed silly.

“It’s my hair, now get off me!” Her face started to blaze, thinking about how this was the longest that someone had been touching her, and the closest someone’s lips had been to her neck.

Y/N heard the grass ruffle as someone’s presence appeared out of view. “I thought you were training.”

Thorin.

“I kicked him rather hard by accident,” she explained. “Can you get him off me? And perhaps get him checked for a concussion.” The weight lifted from her body, as she could finally breathe again.

“Go see Oin about some alleviant,” he ordered, pushing Bofur by the back of the neck. However, the moment Thorin let go his bard collapsed again. “Oh, for the love of Durin.” He slung him up over his shoulders, grunting at the dead weight. “I’ll be a moment.”

She stayed on the bed of grass for another moment. Despite being far into training, the workout was still intensive. She was surprised that she was so winded, and her muscles felt as if they were filled with lead. But as much as she was enjoying the rest, she made note that once she got up, she would go check on her trainer to ensure he was sound.

“Are you injured?” Thorin had reappeared behind her, looking down as she continued to lay.

 They had barely exchanged any words since the night by the stream. Nothing more than a pleasantry “good morning” and the occasional request. But comradery or conversation aside from tasks at hand were avoided. Nights of slumber were spent on opposite sides of the camp, she walked the back of the trudging line, and he insisted that more time should be spent on her hand-to-hand training, and that she wasn’t ready to train sword with him quite yet. If she was being honest with herself, which she often was despite her better judgement, she was under the impression that he was avoiding her.

“Not at all.” She jumped up, ignoring how her knees felt like jelly and her ankles were sore. “Just… taking a breath.”

He nodded, and she could only describe his expression as miffed. “Dinner is ready, should you want some.”

 “Oh.” Y/N looked over his shoulder and saw how everyone was still sitting and telling stories. Gandalf had taken leave once again, muttering something about “Dwarves” and such, and the only empty sitting area was clearly occupied by Thorin once he would return. “Perhaps I’m okay.”

He raised a brow, suspicion of her “condition” growing. “You have not been eating lately.” He stepped forward. “Are you feeling alright?”

She put her hands up to stop him from advancing. “Yes. I’m very well, Master Dwarf,” she answered quickly, looking for a way to escape the conversation. “I should check on Bofur—I mean Master Bofur—pardon me. Um… good evening, sir.” She took her leave, wondering where her mind was.

Bofur laid on his mat, with Oin applying a wet cloth to his forehead. While Y/N thought that Oin would be disappointed, he gave a wide grin and a thumbs up. “Well done, lass,” he said, ignoring his patients groans.

“Oh, thank you. How is he?” He knelt down next to him, opening her hand to take the cloth from him.

“Oh, he’ll be fine. Just a rattled brain.”

She dabbed his cheek gently, taking note at how it was already less swollen and returning to normal color. “How are you feeling?”

He opened one of his eyes and gave a pained smile. “I thought that when I had a lady nurse me for the first time, she wouldn’t be the one who landed me in the first place.”

“I’m hardly nursing you, Master Dwarf. But let this be a reminder of your first lesson. To not let the world distract you.”

He laughed, lazily pointing at his brother. “It’s Bombur’s fault for calling my attention in the first place.”

She wrung out the warming cloth and repoured some fresh cold water. “Well, should you need anything tonight just let me know.”

“I would love a kiss to ease my aches,” he said smoothly, pointing to his temple.

“I’m sure Oin would love to give you one.”

He frowned, which caused her to erupt in giggles. “I feel much better actually, thank you.”

 Another week went by in silence, and Y/N began to regress back into herself. Balin had asked her very gently if she was feeling alright, and she tried her best to reassure him. But it was impossible to pass wool over the old Dwarf’s eyes. She couldn’t quite understand herself why her months of progress was starting to reverse itself, but she knew it had something to do with the strange dreams and memories that were coming to her in the night.

More than once she woke up in a cold sweat, and a handful of times she moved her blanket farther from the others, exiling herself from the company. Gandalf was still away, which at first worried her. But she found bittersweet comfort in that fact that he was often out, leaving her alone, so it was nothing new.

After the sixth day of sleepless nights, and absentminded eating during meals, Bilbo walked up to her, fiddling with something in his pockets. “Good morning, Miss Y/N.”

She looked up, a bit confused as to his formality and nervousness. “Good morning, Master Baggins.”

“Yes, it is a good morning,” he commented, looking at the sky.

It confused her further. “Aye… I suppose it is…”

 A bead of sweat rolled down his face, which he wiped quickly. “May I speak to you for a moment?”

 Suddenly, she felt very concerned. “Of course. Is everything alright?”

He was occupied somewhere else, looking over his shoulder, back at the packing Dwarves. “What? Oh, yes. Quite a nice morning. Anyway, can I take you aside?”

She let herself be ushered to the far side of camp, just beyond the tree line. “You’re worrying me, sir,” she spoke, pulling out a handkerchief from her sleeve. “Are you feeling alright?”

 “Stop that,” he quickly ordered, a bit annoyed. “Stop… stop asking if I’m okay. I… I should be the one asking you.”

“Me?” She gave a laugh, which she looked apologetic about when he raised a brow. “Pardon my outburst, but why are you asking if I’m okay?”

“Because…” His eyes looked up to the sky, as if he was trying to find his words up there. “Because… because you’ve hardly been yourself ever since I saw you… saw you that night by the stream.”

 Y/N’s eyes widened, realizing his nervous glances and blanched complexion was due to guilt. “What? I know it was an accident. I don’t fault you for that.”

 He switched from having his hands in his pockets, to behind his back, to fiddling into front of his chest. “Then why haven’t you been eating? And I hear you get up at night and move away. And you’ve barely spoken two sentences to anyone in two weeks.”

Bilbo started breathing heavily, looking like he was the most uncomfortable he had ever been in his life.

“Hey now, that has nothing to do with you.” She straightened out the front of her last good shirt, thinking carefully of what she could tell him to bring him a moment of peace. “While that night… shocked me—”

“My apologies.”

 “—I am also aware that you meant no harm.” She lowered her voice. “There are some things, Master Baggins, that one can carry through their life. Some days they can forget it exists and some days they lay awake to morning. Please, need not worry yourself about me.”

“I’m hardly the only one worried,” he interjected quickly, playing with the pads of his fingers. “Thorin is under the impression I offended you and he—” He quickly shut his mouth, stopping himself from speaking any further.

“What? What did he do?”

“Hmm? I think I hear Bifur calling me.” And he quickly rushed away.

“Bifur only speaks Dwarvish!” she yelled after him, but he had already made his mind and disappeared.

On the seventh day, Gandalf returned, speaking of a village not far from camp. “It took you seven days to find a town only a few hours away?” Y/N asked.

“Well, it wasn’t the first direction I had headed to.”

“What is it that you do when you wander off?” she continued, hoping this time he would actually answer honestly. “If it is important business, then I shan’t complain further, but if it is avoidance of the company, it makes me curious as to why you wanted to journey at all.”

Gandalf stroked his beard, deciding whether to be truthful or not. “Well, sometimes it is because the Dwarves are much too prideful to be taken consecutively. Other times it is because while I am not the most important wizard, I am a wizard, nonetheless. There are forces and conflicts of this world that I must be attendance to, whether I want to or not.”

“Was this one of those times?”

“Heavens no. But Thorin’s nephews sure know how to dance upon my nerves.”

As the party set out, Y/N stayed lingering towards the end, lost in thought looking out at the plains of tall grass. A mountain range sat in the distance, and the rockiness of the dry land stretched out before them, with only a small strip of yellow grass guiding them along.

 “What are you doing back here?” Kili asked, jostling her from her thoughts.

She raised a brow, noticing his smile. “I’m reflecting.”

“Reflecting on what?” Fili questioned, appearing on the other side of her.

“The choices in life that led me to have this conversation with you.”

“Is it a happy reflection?”

She sighed. “Each word you ask makes my reflection more and more discontented.”

He mocked hurt. “That’s very rude to say.” Instead of continuing his charade of sadness, he quickly linked his elbow in hers, pulling her close to his side. “But I must say, I have a dire question to ask you.”

She squirmed at the contact. “What is it?”

Suddenly, his brother came to her other side, mirroring the arm lock until she was trapped between the two. “Did you have many proposals when you studied in Rivendell?”

She sputtered. “What?”

“Yes, I also want to know,” Kili added, tightening his arm when she tried to slip out. “Gandalf said it was to increase your prospects, not your chances. Surely you were already receiving a few before studying more Elven like hobbies.”

“And was it only Elves or were you seeing a turnover from other races as well. Perhaps a few Dwarves?”

“More Hobbits?”

“Man, even?”

Y/N wanted to melt into the ground, given up on trying to escape. “I’d rather not say.”

Fili pouted. “We’ve been asking Gandalf all day, but he refuses to budge. Won’t you please grant us some answers?”

“I still don’t understand why you must know.”

“Satisfying our curiosity.” Fili answered.

She dug her heels into the path, halting their progression, and then straightened her arms to slip them out of the brothers grasps. She straightened out her sleeves and held a finger up to them. “I never thought I would have to scold grown Dwarfs on acceptable behavior, but I will use the training I’ve gained to shut you up if I must.”

Kili laughed, causing the rest of the party to turn and observe what was happening. “I doubt you’d be able to take us both on.”

Y/N felt a vein in her temple pop. She was running on barely any sleep, walking miles upon miles while completely sore from trainings, and now the Dwarven princes are pushing her last nerves. “I’ll take you on right now if it’ll get you to leave me be in my thoughts.”

His lips pulled into a smile, his tongue running along his canine. “Are you challenging me?”

“Unless you agree to drop such subjects.”

Kili dropped his bag, and the group surrounded them. Thorin pushed his way through the wall of Dwarves, glaring at the display. “What is the meaning of this stop?”

“I’m about to teach your nephew a lesson.”

His face twisted in confusion. “What?”

Gandalf was at his side, tapping his staff into the dirt. “I must say, your sisters’ sons are quite the troublemakers.”

“And I would say you only gave them bait to egg them on,” Thorin growled, watching as Y/N threw down her own bag and rolled up her sleeves. He stepped forward, hand outreached to her. “Y/N, whatever he said to you, please allow me to apologize for it.”

“I’m sorry, Oakenshield,” she replied, not turning around to face him. “But some must answer for their own transgressions.”

Fili was the first at his brother’s side, hand on shoulder and trying to pull him back. “Kili, perhaps we took it too far.”

“Oh, brother. As if you would not appreciate a duel with a lovely woman.”

“Yes, but Uncle has already begun to dig his nails into his palms.”

Y/N got into stance, the way Bofur had her do every day for training and rolled her shoulders flat. Kili mirrored her, planting his feet wide and careful. She shifted to him, on foot in front of the other, toe to heel, until she was within an arm’s length.

“I will go easy on you, since it’s such an impromptu fight,” he told her, winking.

 “It won’t be much of a fight.” Then she did a sharp jab directly to his nose.

Y/N lightly dabbed Kili’s nose and mouth, outside of a town they had walked to. By now, his chin and shirt was covered in blood, and his eyes had begun to droop. While his nose wasn’t broken, she did clip his top lip and cause it to split, along with causing some of his cartilage to tear. She strung out the rag in her canteen of water, and lightly wiped his chin, causing him to wince.

“I feel the need to apologize,” he said, sucking his teeth.

“That is probably wise.” She cleaned the last of the blood and was happy to see that the split in his lip didn’t need stitches.

“I am sorry for asking about… private matters.”

“I forgive you.”

He rubbed his neck, running a tongue along his wound and wincing at the sting. “It was… very dishonorable of me.”

“It was.”

“And I understand if you hate me.”

She sighed, packing her supplies. “I do not hate you. This journey has been happening for months now, and everyone breaks in their own way. Yours is just inappropriate teasing.” The wind blew gently, the sun climbing over its crescent and beginning to dip. “But that doesn’t mean what you did was okay. I’m just saying that I understand.”

Thorin crossed his arms, staring at the town “Come, let's just get what we need so we can move on. The sun has already begun to set," he grumbled, eyeing the crowds of people in the streets. "I give us two hours before we are in darkness." 

They entered the town of man together, looking at how many shops and stands were stood along the pavement. A few people looked at the company with curious eyes. While no one could blame them, as a group of Dwarves and Halflings, four-feet tall, and a wizard with a large grey hat was a strange site to see in such a small village. One would be crazy not to look and wonder. 

Y/N looked up at all the shops, mentally tallying on what was close by, and what they had yet to pass. "What is everything we need?" 

"Horses," Kili threw out.

"Bandages and thread," said Oin.

"Rations of bread," added Gloin. 

"Two of those things we can get," she muttered, looking at the money she had in her pouch. "We can't possibly buy 15 ponies in this town, Mister Kili." 

He shrugged, grinning through his bruising face. "You asked for what we needed. You didn't say it had to be within reason." 

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "From now on, always assume when I ask that particular question I mean within reason." She pulled out the coins, holding them in both hands. "We'll need each person to get themselves a week or so amount of bread. Mister Oin, you'll have to get the medical supplies. And if you see anything that we absolutely need, grab it." She looked over at Fili, hesitating to drop the gold in his own. "A throwing dagger does not count as a need."

"What if I run out?"

"You have seven on your person at this very moment; I know you don't need anymore." 

When her hand reached to Thorin, he eyed the coins disapprovingly and refused to accept. "I will not take your money. We’ve all our own.”

She decided she didn’t have such energy to fight him, grabbed his empty hand, placing the coins into his palm, and closing his fingers around them. "I have the money to spare and I will not let you starve. Where will we be meeting afterwards, Oakenshield?" 

He hesitated, staring at his closed fist. Reluctantly, he placed the coins in his coat pocket and sighed. "We'll meet by the edge of the town, along the main road." 

"And lads," Balin said, calling everyone’s attention. "Don't waste Miss Y/N’s money." 

She gave him a gracious smile, adjusting her bag straps on her shoulders. "I'll see you all before dusk." But before she could begin, Gandalf placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from walking away. 

"I feel the paternal need to dissuade you from going by yourself." 

"I'm of no need to company," she protested. "I find it hardly appropriate to be the only member with a chaperone." 

To compromise, Gandalf went around the group, pairing everyone with someone else. “Bilbo, Thorin, please accompany Y/N.”

She ground her teeth, nodding to her partners and began to walk to different shops. "I assure you that my displeasure has nothing to do with you," she growled, leading the way through the market. "It's entirely on the Wizard’s misplaced, overprotective nature. We were almost eaten by Trolls and he picks now to worry?" She huffed. 

"I'm sure he means well," Bilbo offered, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets. 

"He does," she admitted. "But that's one of the reasons why I hate it. His good intentions always come round when it is most inconvenient." 

People turned their heads as they walked, causing her to carefully pull the hood of her cloak closer. This only made people look at her more, as it made her seem smaller than she already was. It wasn’t that she was worried about eyes being on her, but more how they whispered to each other in quick, hushed tones. "I take it back," she mumbled, mostly to herself. "I am no longer excited to be in town. Let's get what we need and leave. I don't think I can take these people looking at me." 

"You are a Hobbit that travels with a Wizard, raised among Elves," Thorin said, folding his arms in front of him. "I think you draw enough attention to yourself on a regular schedule." 

"I’ve only met his companions in the familiarity of Rivendell," she explained, quickly turning a sharp corner. "I've never had to be surrounded by strangers alone. Well, except for my first few nights in the company.” She began to sweat, flushing from the suffocation of the crowd.

Thorin held his hand up to her. "We understand. Perhaps we should step aside." And that was all he said. 

She cleared her throat, trying to defuse the tension and deplete the spots filling her vision. "Oh look, a bread vendor." She quickly made her way over, with the men following close behind, and stood in front of the stand. If desired, she could rest her chin on edge, barely looking over. Despite being raised by Elves, they made her accommodations to her stature, and she rarely noticed her height when everything set for her was fitted perfectly. But here, among Man, the stand was fit to them, there at their mid abdomen, where her own length barely reached.

The vendor looked down, his forehead creasing, and an eyebrow raised. "Hello there," he said, looking down both ends of the street. "Are you lost?" 

Bilbo started laughing, only for Y/N to elbow him in the side. She forced out a laugh and tried to stand taller on her toes. "I'm actually an adult. I'm a Hobbit." 

His face lit up. "A Hobbit? I didn't think they left the Shire." 

"We have a particular Wizard to thank for that," Bilbo grumbled, thinking back to the unwanted house party. 

"What can I get you?" he asked. 

"We would be ecstatic if we could have three weeks’ worth of bread." She held out her hand, so Bilbo and Thorin could place their coins with hers and placed them on the counter. 

The vendor smiled, swiping them into his palm. "Very well, Miss Pretty Lady." 

An unwanted giggle escaped her lips, and she quickly covered her mouth. She looked over at Bilbo, who was raising a confused brow, and frowned. "Oh, hush. It's nice to have a compliment every once in a while.”

"I’ve complimented you." 

"That is not the point I’m trying to make." 

The vendor placed down the bread, sliding them toward her. She took them, graciously, placing them into your bag and to Bilbo and Thorin, and smiled. "Thank you, sir." 

He shrugged, leaning down. "It was no problem." 

As Thorin and Bilbo watched, at least trying not to, they noticed that the vendors eyes continually dipped down passed her eye level, and underneath the opposite side of the booth. How when she wasn’t looking, his teeth were just a little more visible, his tongue barely in between them. Bilbo had a feeling he might soon be able to place as protective, whether that came from a place of love or simple care he couldn’t quite know. Thorin, however, noticed how one moment his anger began to set in, and the next he saw red.

"What are you doing later tonight?" the vendor asked, leaning onto a lazy fist. 

"We'll actually be leaving by sundown," she answered, having fitted the wrapped breads into her pack, noting how she hadn’t much room for anything else now.

He sighed, shaking his head, "That's a shame. I was hoping to take you dancing. You look rather light on your feet." 

She looked up, rather shocked, and said nothing. A compliment every now and again was nice, but something about the unabashed flirting was becoming too much. She wasn’t the only one now having to bare the onslaught. Thorin whipped his head, burning a hole into the side of the vendor’s unsuspecting temple. Bilbo clenched his fists in his pockets, grinding his teeth into dust. 

"And I thought that maybe after dancing we could—" 

"Okay!" Bilbo shouted, as Thorin wrapped an arm around her and began to steer them away. "Thank you so much for the bread, you've been a tremendous help, but we need to leave. Thank you and goodbye." He gave one last dirty look and followed after.

Y/N tried to sputter something out, but the speed of which the two were pushing her she was more focused on not tripping than getting out her words. Bilbo was at her other side in just a few strides, huffing to himself in a very low tone.

            "I know a dishonorable man when I see one," Thorin growled, hand still wrapped around her as he pushed through the market. "And he had it written all over his face. It is none of my business what kind of creatures you find flattering, but I greatly dissuade you from being charmed by such forward language. You deserve—” He stopped himself, quickly clearing his throat and dropping his hand from her shoulders. “—you deserve the upmost respect.”  

Her feet were forced to walk, and she began to piece everything together. She wasn’t sure why the vendor’s words had turned her as quickly as they had flattered her. "Oh, my gods; I'm an idiot." She placed her head into her hands, causing them to stop in the clearing of the pavement. 

Bilbo placed an affectionate hand in Thorin’s place. "It's fine, you didn't know." 

"I'm so... disgusted!" She looked down at her clothes, finally taking care and notice into the tattering middle, exposing her mid-drift ever so slightly. "I can’t believe I’m walking around with this--" she pulled at her top, “—on, expecting decency.”

Thorin's nostrils flared, and he saw that red haze set over his eyes again. "Do not even consider conceiving the thought that this is your fault," he barked. "That was completely intolerable for on his behalf and you’ve no blame." 

She bit her lip, still toying with the end of her shirt. The crowd felt tighter, and the sun felt hotter, despite the year reaching towards the autumn months. "It would still be helpful to change. Grant me peace of mind and all. My pony used to carry my clothes, until she bolted." 

People walked around the trio, only giving them a moment of their attention before moving on with their lives. No one seemed to bump into her, despite having had stopped in the very middle of the walkway. However, it was not long until someone ran into her, cursing as they ran past. She quickly grabbed Thorin and Bilbo's hands, bringing them over to an empty sidewalk, where they wouldn't be in the way. “Surely there is a shop nearby.” She looked around, trying to find a shop or vendor that sold clothes, but couldn't see over everyone’s heads.

She stood up on her toes, which only brought her up a few measly inches, and sighed. She usually didn't care for her height. It didn't define her, and she usually met people who didn't care. But standing here, in the middle of a crowd of Man, she cursed to herself for her shortness. 

"Here," said Thorin, extending a hand to her. “Trust me.” 

She did. He pulled her close with a hand on her waist, quickly hoisting her up until she was sat on his shoulder, him holding her hips and legs to keep her steady. Butterflies and moths fluttered in her stomach, clawing out her throat as her face lit up in rose hues. “Oh… um…”

  "Can you see?" he asked. Bilbo and him shared a look, one she did not see, and Thorin tried his best to keep his composure, thankful her clothes prevented his cheek from resting on her bare thigh.

She looked ahead, trying not to think about, well, anything. "Uh, aye, I can. Thank you." 

"Tell me when you see a shop or a tailor." 

It was difficult to focus, as a Dwarf was holding her up with one hand. She felt his finger wrapped around the curve of her love handle, firm and gentle. "I'm not... heavy, am I?" 

He laughed, softly, shaking her lightly. "I have carried sticks with more weight than you."

"I'm not sure if I should be offended or not."

Bilbo looked up and away, with an expression that was hard to read. "Go for offended." 

She turned her head, looking passed the people who walked around. Thorin turned with, helping her to not crane her neck. "I think I found one," she said, staring at a shop with mannequins in the windows. "Just down the way.” 

  The shop had people walking in and out, with the display showing dresses, suits, and everything for children. She knew she were going to have to purchase the boys clothing, but it didn't matter that much. At least she would be able to move properly without tripping or falling. At she’d feel less exposed during her training. 

"Very well," Thorin replied, setting her down, hands still gripping her waist. One of his fingers lightly brushed against the exposed skin, and he quickly pulled himself away. "You may lead the way." 

She pulled the end of her shirt down, fingers lingering where she felt his touch, and pointed a finger. "This way." 

The shop was very nice. As she opened the door, a bell, hanging over the door, rang to alert the workers inside. A lady came out, looking no older than twenty, and smiled down at her. "You must be the Hobbit everyone is talking about!" she greeted, cheerfully. "You look even more adorable than everyone says." 

Y/N managed a strained smile. "Thank you. Have people have been talking?" 

She clasped her hands together and nodded her head. "Oh yes! It's not every day we see Dwarves or Halflings in this town. And word does travel ‘round fast." 

"I can see that." 

"So, what can I do for you? Are you looking for a lovely dress?" The shop worker placed a hand on her upper back and guided her towards the dresses. 

  "I'm actually looking for trousers," she replied. "And a simple shirt, if that isn't too much to ask. Nothing I should regret getting dirty or damaged.”

The girl merely smiled, and quickly steered the opposite way, towards the changing rooms. "I have the perfect set for you. But you may have to roll the ends. You are certainly the smallest costumer I've served." 

"Wait, where is she going?" Bilbo asked, watching as the worker pushed her behind a curtain. 

"Changing, of course." The girl looked at him, as if it was the stupidest question she had ever heard. "Surely you can't expect her to change out here?" 

Bilbo's face flushed, ignoring how Thorin and him must be remembering the night at the stream. "No, of course not! I just want to make sure she doesn't get lost." 

The girl giggled, like pixies causing mischief, walking passed him to the boys section. "Your wife will be completely fine behind a curtain." 

Bilbo coughed. "I'm not her husband," he said quickly. 

"Oh." She looked at Thorin, who was looking at the closed curtain. "So, you must be the lady's lucky lad. Once again, your wife will be safe." She went back to the curtain, handing the clothes through the fabric. Before Thorin could protest, trying to uphold her virtue, she continued. "It was rude of me to assume that only the Mister Hobbit could marry her. Forgive me. Dwarves and Hobbits do make such a cute couple. But I did not see a ring on her finger. Are Dwarven engagements much different than that of Man?" 

Thorin widened his eyes and shook his head quickly, wondering if Y/N could hear the conversation so close by. "You are mistaken. We are not in a courtship, nor are we married. She is a free dame. We are merely escorting her around town." 

She closed the curtains, and a bad look was stained on her face. "Good thing, too. There have been rumors spreading. Girls have been getting kidnapped." They tense up at this knowledge. "It's strange that no one knows who's been committing this, as it's such a small town, but keep a careful eye on her. They'll snatch her up faster than you could say, 'Stop.'" 

She poked her head into the curtain, gaining a quick scream from Y/N. "Are you almost ready? Do you need help buttoning up?" And then she entered and left the members in the shop, alone. 

The worker entered into the room, with her struggling to keep her pants up. "Do you have a belt? Or something to keep them up?" she asked, holding them with a tight fist around the waist. 

The girl laughed, maybe because of how ridiculous she looked. 

Her white button-up was half sticking out of her trousers, and half tucked in. The individual legs were a little long, covering her feet, and the sleeves of the shirt fell over her hands. Her hair became disheveled from the struggle, with her braid falling apart, a bit. Her old clothes was discarded on the other side of the room, with her bag hanging on a hook. 

"Here you go." She grabbed leather suspenders from the doorway, tightening them to a shorter length. She hooked them to the back of the pants, brought them over her head, and clasped them to the front. "That'll keep them from slipping." She then grabbed the pine green vest and left it unbuttoned, it feeling a bit loose but fitting all the same. 

Y/N gave a gracious smile, tucking the rest of her shirt into her pants. "Thank you. I don't normally struggle with wearing trousers, but these were on the larger side." She rolled up the sleeves, letting them rest just above her elbows, and the girl rolled the trousers up to her ankles. 

"It was no problem." She brushed the hairs out of her face, and smoothed down the fly aways. "And off you go. Don't forget your cloak or your bag... or your sword." 

Y/N gave a smile, letting the cloak rest over her forearm and slung the bag across her body. She tied the sheath to her waist, letting her sword hang from it. "How much do I owe you?" 

She shook her head. "Don't worry about that. Any supplies needed for this quest, I hear you're on, is completely free. Just make sure you remember me. I'm Emily." 

"And I, Y/N," she replied, bowing as she did for her company. "I am in your debt." 

She stepped out, Emily holding the curtain open for her. She saw the boys talking to each other, then they turned to look at her. "I must say, this feels much more practical," she said, clipping the cloak around her neck. "I might be able to beat Bofur for once." She looked up to see their faces. Their eyes were wide, with their pupils the size of coins, and their mouths were agape. It looked like they were trying to say something, but no sound would escape their lips. They were frozen, like statues, and completely turned to stone. 

The worker, behind you, laughed into her palm, muffling the sound.

"Are you okay?" she asked, glancing behind herself. 

This shook them from their daze, and they coughed.            

"Yes," Bilbo replied, playing with his coat. "Yes, everything is fine. Right Thorin?" He nudged the Dwarf with his elbow. 

"Yes, there is no need to worry about anything." 

She smiled, raising a confused brow, and clasped her hands together. "Right then. We ought to find the others now," she stated, adjusting her strap. "Thank you, Miss Emily. For everything!" She waved goodbye as she followed the two out of the shop.

"Good luck on your quest!" she called after, waving the entire time until the door closed shut. 

"You think the Dwarves are at the vantage point, Oakenshield?" she asked, looking up at him. 

"Honestly? I do not think so," he replied, bluntly. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay," she sighed, a bit annoyed. "Where would a band of Dwarves go on a night, like this, in a town of man?" 

Before anyone could throw out a suggestion, the three looked at each other and nodded. "Pub," they said in unison. 

"How will we know where the pub is?" Bilbo asked. 

"Follow the crowd of people," she answered, watching people walk towards the sound of music. "How sure are we that they're in there?" 

Thorin looked over to the crowd of people, and heard the sound of crashing plates and dishes. "Positive." 

"I thought Dwarves were especially light with balancing things," she said, as Thorin began to march angrily to the pub. "Like how they were at Baggins house? They didn't break a single thing while throwing all of his dishes." 

"We are very capable at keeping things stable," Thorin agreed. "We can throw things and catch them with ease. But if someone were to trip, from being smashed, then they'll end up breaking a few things." Another crash punctuated his sentence, and laughter rang through the open windows. 

"At least they're not in my house," Bilbo muttered, shuddering from the memory of them tossing about his silverware and furniture. 

She mumbled a tune to herself, reminiscing of the jovial gathering. "Smash the bottles and burn the corks. Chip the glasses and crack the plates- Ha!" She bumped him with her hip, making him roll his eyes. "That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"

"I'm starting to hate you." But he was smiling. 

"But I'm so wonderful to be around." 

As they entered the pub, the smell of rum and beer hit her nostrils and burned them to nothing. Songs were being played on the piano, and people were dancing on tables. They ran around like chickens with their heads cut off, holding pints of beer in their hands as they tripped and gave out roars of laughter. She looked around, getting a quick scan of the room, and found the Dwarves sitting at the bar. More appropriately, sitting on the bar. 

They chugged their beers, laughing as told jokes and pushed each other. 

Thorin glared at them, his fists clenching. 

"Oakenshield, don't go doing anything irrational," she said, holding a hand to his chest as he began to make way towards them. 

"I am being completely rational," he replied, speaking through his teeth. "I'm just going to ring the necks of each and every last one of them." 

"We’ve much different definitions of rational.”

He made his way over to them, her warning meaning nothing to him, and he stopped in front of Kili. 

Kili didn't notice his uncle at first, laughing and pushing his brother. He took a swig of his beer, turning to face the front, and spit everything when his eyes landed on Thorin. "Uncle!" he said in surprise, his eyes widening in fear. "We were just... uh?" 

Nori laughed and raised his glass. "Celebrating!" 

Thorin had to cross his arms to stop himself from lunging at them. "And what are we celebrating?" he asked, his voice dripping with venom.

"The Blue Moon Festival!" he shouted, gaining cheers from the bar. 

"We have to get moving. We were supposed to meet at the edge of town." 

Balin came up from behind, clasping a hand onto the king's shoulder. "They're just having a bit of fun." It was clear the Dwarf was aware of his oldest friend’s anger, based on how his eyes were softened with worry.

"Their 'bit of fun' is being reckless and putting this entire journey in danger," Thorin spat, his eyes filled with fire.

As Y/N watched the two Dwarves argue, she removed herself from the butting and sat down on a stool, at the bar. The bartender came over, handing her a wooden pint. The top overflowed with white foam, falling down the sides and pooling on the counter. "Oh, I didn't order this," she said, looking at the tender. 

"I know," he replied, quickly throwing the dirty rag underneath the counter. "It's complements of the gentleman at the end of the bar." He pointed down to the opposite end, where the bread vendor from earlier sat and cheered her, holding his own pint. 

Not wanting to be rude, she returned a forced smile and carefully picked up the large cup. The beer bubble to the top and fizzed and she swished it around. She carefully raised it to her lips, feeling the liquid run through her teeth and over down her throat. The drink was nice, at least she thought it was. She wasn’t sure what good or bad beer tasted like, as they all seemed to muddle together into nothing. It was cold, and the aftertaste made her want to cough. But instead, she cheered the man back and took another gulp. 

The more she drank, the easier it was to swallow and the better it seemed to taste. She was shocked at how her chest felt fluttery, and how she felt the heat in her knees.

Fili watched and hollered. "Even Y/N is having fun!" he shouted. The company looked at her, as she licked the remains of the sweet crema from the rim of the cup and set it down on the counter. 

They cheered and drank from their own cups, handing Thorin and Bilbo a glass. 

"I didn't know you drank," Bilbo said, taking a sip from his cup. He didn’t look too keen on this brew, and she quickly recalled how he had unopened barrels of mead but a plethora of wonderous wines.

"A man bought it for me," she replied, suppressing air from bubbling in her ribs. "I didn't want to be rude." She hiccupped out, causing her ears to go red and the Dwarves to laugh. 

"Can't hold your liquor?" Dwalin asked, with Nori talking over his shoulder. 

"I suppose we’ll find out," she replied, covering a hiccup rising. She flushed as the alcohol began to hit, and her face reddened from it warming her bones. She tried to remain civil, and not lead on that the world was beginning to tip and shift out of focus. "Did you guys get all the things you needed?" she asked, her tongue feeling numb.

"I sure did!" Nori shouted, throwing bread, knives, gold, jewelry, and coins in front of the bar. 

Her eyes widened, as she picked up each item carefully. "You bought all of this?" she asked incredulously, sliding it back towards him. 

Dwalin laughed, as Nori shoved the goods into his pockets and shrugged. "Bought, borrowed, never returning. It's all the same, isn't it?" 

She gasped. "You didn't steal everything did you?"

He looked offended, placing his hand on his chest in mock hurt. "Of course not! How could you ask me that?" he demanded. "I bought the bread. Well, most of it anyway." 

The company roared with laughter, clanking their cups together, while Thorin smacked Nori upside his head. 

Then the drink really started to hit. 

The world grew fuzzy, and everything began to tip to the side. Faces swirled together and it was hard to keep balance. Her words were slurring together, as her tongue felt too big for her mouth. Her eyes were closed, half-lidded, as she leaned against the counter for support. Her body tingled, making it hard to feel anything in particular. 

The bread vendor sat down at her side, as the Dwarves got into a heated argument about who would take down a dragon faster. "Hello!" he said, leaning on his elbow. "It looks like you came after all."

She swallowed, feeling nauseous, and spoke a bit slowly to enunciate the words. "My friends decided to stay later." 

"And you always follow what your friends say?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

She blushed, from the beer or from the question she didn't know. "I couldn't leave without them," she explained, feeing her stomach swirl and tighten. "They'd be worried." At least she thought they would be. 

He sighed. "I thought so. Are you still up for dancing?" 

She shook her head, the queasiness in her stomach spreading up to her ribcage. "I'll have to decline," she replied, holding up a hand. 

The man grabbed it, rubbing his thumb in circles around the back. "Come on, it'll be fun." 

Her heart began to both skip faster and slower, as it fell through her torso. "I really can't," she said, attempting to pull her hand back. 

But he held on tight, ripping her from her seat. Her feet hit the ground, and the force of gravity hit like an anvil. She fell down, unable to balance correctly. "Please stop," she slurred, unsure if he heard or not. 

He began to pull, dragging away from the company and towards the door. 

"Stop," she said louder, pulling her hand back. She managed to get it loose, only angering him, and stumbled back to the bar. 

The man suddenly grabbed her braid, ripping the back of her scalp. He used his grip to pull her head towards his, and she could feel his breath on her neck and ear, as he got close. “Knock it off.” He tried pulling again, and she used all the strength she had left in her throat to scream. 

The company turned their heads to the sound, noticing she near the edge of the crowd. Their expressions were first confusion, then quickly melted into unbridled rage. "What are you doing?" Dwalin demanded, his fist turning blue around his cup handle.

Thorin saw red, the way he did when this very man was disrespecting her earlier. But the red faded, and a sea of black filled his vision, only a pinprick of sight allowing him to set on the scene. He marched over, with the company behind him. 

The man held on tight to her hair, fear gripping his throat a bit, and he ripped her back into his arms. She struggled against him, his hand holding her neck back and her arms tight. The company reached for their weapons, their faces dark and murderous. 

"Let go of her," Fili demanded, pulling a dagger out from his pocket. 

"I will rip your skull in two if you lay a hand on her," Dwalin added, arming himself with his axe. 

Watching as the company grew closer, and the grip on her hair tightening, she groaned. She felt anger and fear and sorrow mix together into a ball of emotions, waiting to blow in her chest. She elbow his stomach, sending him hunched over. When his grip released on her, she lunged forward, falling into the arms of her company waiting to catch her.

The tavern didn't realize the danger that had just happened, and laughed as she fell to the ground, and the man gripping his stomach with a red face. One of the patrons, having found it all very funny, smashed his glass mug against the vendors skull, knocking him out cold.

With a final huff, she collapsed on the ground, unable to hold herself any longer. 

The company shouted her name, and they rushed to her side. 

Oin lifted her lids, checking her eyes. "Can you hear me?" he asked, though his voice was sounding through honey. 

She gave a meek nod, curling in on her burning stomach. It felt as if someone had sunk their claws into her side and moved them around like taffy. She was stretched and compressed, clawing at her skin. But she remained motionless on the ground, feeling her insides be ripped apart. 

Thorin walked over to the bar, snatching the mug from the surface. He looked inside, giving it a sniff, and threw it down, angered. "It’s been spiked," he snarled. "A drug used to mimic the symptoms of being drunk. If she already can't handle it, it will have an even greater impact on her." 

"Let's get her out of here," Kili said, sobering up and looking serious. 

He went to lift her up, but Thorin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He crouched next to her, carefully scooping her close to his chest, cradling her close. She gripped his shirt with a tight hold, steadying herself against him as he moved to the exit. 

"Where is the man?" she asked, her words strung together and soft. 

  Thorin glanced back at the rest of the company, who had completely surrounded the man, and shook his head. "Don’t concern yourself with him now," he replied. "You'll be okay." 

"Thorin?" she asked, as the night air hit her face. 

"Yes?" He adjusted his hold on her, melting at how his name sounded from her broken lips.

She slowly felt her eyes close, letting sleep begin to wash over her. "You are quite nice."

He chuckled softly, catching eye of Gandalf in the distance, framed by the moon. “As are you.”

“May I tell you a secret?”

“I find words spoken drunk are more important if saved sober.”

She rubbed her face closer into him, inhaling how he smelled like leather and pine, coals and morning dew. “May I tell you anyway?”

Her curls blew in the wind, and he caught scent of rose and vanilla, and sweet milk used to soften her skin. “I shall never deny you anything you wish.” And in his heart, he meant it.

“This is not the first time such a thing has happened,” she managed, her voice hazy and rough.

His hands twitched, but he restrained himself from such callous touches while holding her. “What did you say?”

“I’m no fool,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I know what would have become of me if I was taken. It is not the first time.” Her hair fell away from her face, revealing tears streaming freely, as she had no energy to stop them. “I only wish it was the last.” Thorin went to say something, but she shook her head to stop him. “So please understand the weight of what I mean when I say that you are quite nice.”

“I will.”

He wanted to hold her tighter, closer, deeper. He wanted to crush her with adoration and drink the honey of her soul. She was so strong and so fragile. How could something so close to breaking in turn break him so?

“Does the Wizard know?”

She shook her head, but it was clear she was close to unconsciousness. “Please, do not tell him. It has been some time now. There is nothing to be done.”

“Something should be done, regardless of the time passed.”

“Please,” she begged. “Please, I’ve lost pride and dignity long ago. Grant me this request and allow me my secrecy if nothing else.”

Gandalf turned and waved to them, tapping a fake pocket watch about being late.

“I’ll give you anything you wish.”

She sighed, finally giving in to the pull. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight: Boldness Stands Alone

Word Count: 4,366 words

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of previous chapter events, Thorin is REALLY stupid this chapter, like gigantic idiot, if you thought the enemies to lovers tag was dramatic this chapter is for you

***

Breakfast the following days were silent, training in hand combat came to a halt, and even the teasing from the prince brothers had ultimately ended. She pulled her weight, in packing and cooking and occasional assigned watches. But despite the party trying to do their part in alleviating some of the burden or the travels, she would volunteer brunt work and labor. If she wasn’t assigned watch, she would be up anyway, standing at the edge of their camps. If she wasn’t cooking, she was taking a hatchet to the brittle trees for fire wood. The only person she would talk to would be Gandalf, but only in privacy, and each conversation ended with her in his arms, him stroking her hair.

In fact, the lowered morale of their Hobbit was seeming to infect the rest of the camp. Each story and song took longer to compose, everyone tripping over mentions of drinking, dancing, or love. It wasn’t until she had taken leave to the stream did Bilbo finally say something.

“Okay, we need to do something about this,” he whispered, stirring his soup with a tin spoon. He nodded his head towards the direction Y/N had gone to. “Has anyone seen her get a wink of sleep since the incident?”

Gloin sighed, tapping the bottom of his empty canteen. “The whole situation is bloody awful. We should’ve killed that sod when we had the chance.”

“We can’t just go around killing people,” Bilbo protested. “Though, there is no guarantee he walked away.” He thought back to how he couldn’t bring himself to lay more than a punch, but how the other Dwarves had to be pulled away from using their weapons on the man. He also couldn’t shake the sound of cracks and impacts turning wet.

“I don’t know who’s more upset at missing the beating,” Bofur said into his cup, eyes scanning over the brim, looking out to where two figures stood and talked in hushed tones. “Gandalf or Thorin.”

“Gandalf nearly obliterated us while arguing in Bilbo’s house,” Kili mentioned. “That lad would’ve been nothing but an ash spot if he had witnessed the scene.”

Bilbo waved his hand, trying to draw the attention back. “Off topic. But what are we going to do now?”

“What is there to do?” Dwalin asked, throwing his coat down on his cot. “She seems fine.”

The circle stopped, raising brows and ruffling mustaches at they stared at him. “Have you truly not noticed her complete change in behavior?” Bilbo asked, a bit shocked that he was actually questioning the intimidating Dwarf.

“’Course I’ve noticed; I’m not blind. But she is putting energy into what she can. I admire that kind of drive and perseverance. A lesser man would buckle. But not her.” He paused, looking off into the distance as a soft look fell over his hard and rough features. The glow of the campfire often made him look even angrier than his usual self, but the light showed how he glanced behind himself, towards his leader, before blinking and clearing his throat. “Not her.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened, at the quick realization of this Dwarf’s growing soft spot. “Right… well, we don’t need her collapsing, so if anyone’s got some idea about how to get her to sleep, toss your hat in.”

Ori raised his hand. “Mister Bilbo, only Bofur’s got a hat.”

“Yeah, and I don’t want to toss it into the flames!”

Bilbo rubbed his hands across his face, sighing loudly into his palms.

At the edge of camp, in the shadow barely illuminated by the flickering fire, Gandalf and Thorin took part in a hushed conversation. The wizard puffed his pipe angrily, the darkness of the wood seemingly darker than the usual nights. His foot tapped rapidly under his robe, and he pulled his pipe away and breathed quick smoke through his nose. “I don’t appreciate how I kept in the dark about this, Thorin,” he scolded, snapping his fingers to relight his tobacco. “Three days before I was told what happened.”

“She demanded my word in secrecy,” Thorin protested. “Had I known she would disclose to you, I would’ve told you the moment we met at the end of town.”

The glowing embers of the pipe lit with Gandalf’s inhale, dark and thick smoke seeping through his ears. “I should have his head on my staff.”

“I doubt he is even alive now.” After handing Y/N to her guardian that night, Thorin went to back to grab his members, having to block Dwalin from brandishing his axe. The dance floor had cleared, people stumbling in a drunken stupor from the bar. What was left was thirteen blurring figures huffing as a beaten man laid in a pool of blood. “If he is, I doubt he could ever attempt again.”

Gandalf chewed on the end of his smokes, until he scoffed and emptied the ash from the bowl. “He needn’t be alive for his head to anoint a spike.”

“Surely as her guardian you know what could help her.”

He shook his head, adjusting the brim of his hat. “It’s a unique situation. That last time I saw her quite this upset was when I returned from a journey, and she had gutted that boar in front of the Elven court. But she was downtrodden about her prospects partaking in such a violent sport.”

Thorin held his tongue, but her aversion to such topic was starting to make come to surface with fierce clarity. Instead, he held his hands behind his back to keep his clenches fists out of sight. “I suppose being able to fight helped her manage.”

Gandalf’s eyebrows raised; his lips pursed. “That would explain the many letters expressing displeasure in her frustrations in music. She never broke an instrument, but there was always a new chip in her furniture.” He quickly hushed himself when he noticed Y/N returning from the stream, hair damp and the back of her shirt wet and clinging to her skin. “Hello, my dear. Enjoy yourself?”

She looked up, eyebrow raised with a confused look on her faced. “Aye?”

“That’s wonderful! Thorin and I were just discussing how well your training has been going. I heard you were able to take down Bofur while sparring.”

Her fingers lingered over the warmed surface of her cot, which she had laid by the fire during her leave. While she didn’t look up, she pushed her hair behind her ear, as to show she was listening. “Well, that was an unfortunate accident, but yes. I agree in saying that it is going very well.”

Gandalf chuckled, the way he had in Rivendell when questioned about the nature of his inquiries; charming and illuding his true reasoning. “I find it wise to begin your sword training. You fought well in the Goblin hoards, but their weapons are often primitive at best. Crossing steel with steel is sure to be more of a challenge.”

Quickly braiding her hair back, tying it off with a simple ribbon, Y/N nodded. “Noted. I will begin tomorrow.” As she smoothed her peaking strands down, the chatter of the party came to a stop, watching her in her administrations. When she noticed the eerie silence befalling the camp, she looked up, seeing the three dozen eyes staring. “Alright then.” She dusted off her knees and stood just on the edge of her cot, careful not to track dirt onto her blanket. “I am quite fine. So if everyone could no longer whisper and gossip about the past day’s events, I’d be much appreciative.”

Mutters of yeses and ayes sounded around, and they began to get up and ready themselves for bed. In the bustle of their movements, Fili’s leg caught the ankle of his brother, sending him flying with his nearly empty bowl outwards. Kili caught himself, but the contents of his dish splashed against the side and soared, landing on Y/N’s shirt and chest.

He felt his nose throb at the sight, as she looked down and saw how the bits of carrot and thick stew was dripping down, staining and rubbing across her freshly washed skin. He silently prayed to whatever gods or ancestors stayed by his side through his mischief behavior and hoped they would protect him now. “Durin’s beard, I am so… sorry.” He straightened himself up. “It was Fili’s fault.”

Fili blanched. “Oi! Untrue!”

Y/N ran a hand down the mess, flicking her wrist to send the excess into the grass. She took a deep breath, with her eyes closed. “It is fine.”

The brothers’ mouths fell open together. “It is?”

“Aye, yes, it is.” Eyes opened, she reached for her pack, pulling out the old shirt she was wearing before. “Accidents happen. Everyone; return about your business.”

Thorin watched as she walked back toward the wood, holding a hand out to stop her from crossing the edge. “My sister’s sons meant no harm.”

Looking between his hand and face, she nodded. “I’m aware.”

He dropped his arm. “You’re aware?”

“Yes.” Quickly scanning to see that no one was overhearing, she lowered her voice. “The one I am truly angry with is not here. I will not punish your nephews or any member of this company over the actions of an unrelated person. I refuse to act on anger on those who have shown my nothing but… kindness.” The last word lingered on her tongue, and her glance shifted between Thorin and space. She shook herself. “So, worry not. I am… very levelheaded.”

As she walked to change, Gandalf clicked his tongue. “Well, that was more unnerving than her dismembering a pig.”

Thorin crossed his arms. “You don’t believe her.”

“Y/N is quite mature for her age, and even more so for a Halfling. But she never was able to control her temper. Her pride is the cause.” It was clear the wizard was insinuating correlation between her and the leader, but Thorin kept himself silent, waiting for the poetry to become clear. “If a kettle has not boiled over, it does not mean it is still. It means perhaps the depth is much deeper than once thought. It is only a matter of time before it topples. I just hope we are not in battle to where that grief brings her danger.”

That night, Thorin did not sleep. He took watch, closed his eyes when the shifts changed, and listened to the cool breeze of autumn setting in. The air had not yet turned cold, but the crisp bite of the wind was setting in, as if sharpening its teeth in preparation. This was all important for him to note because it was not very long in the second shift did, he see Y/N sit up in her blanket, pushing the covering off of her and stretch her arms to allow the rush of air to completely engulf her.

Perhaps, in another night and at another time, such a sight would make his soul ache, the way it did by the stream. But, in light of torturous circumstance, he felt a second-hand grief. The way her skin was turning pink across her cheeks and nose, the slight grey on her lips, and the way the hairs of her arms and back stood on edge.

He thought back to the night in the Shire, how quick she was to passion and promise. How she demanded respect with every movement and word, the way her eyes lit and extinguished with every wave of emotion. Oh, how full of feeling she was in her ministrations, how easily it flowed and poured before her. But now, he recognized the motions in her, having had done them himself long ago. Throwing himself into weaponry, war, and craft. Lighting flames and hammering red hot metals, the days blurring in the steam of the blacksmith shops. Searching for a feeling that would distract him from what he lost.

He could only wonder what she had lost. Her hinting and secrecy were still buried beneath the surface. All he knew was once, some time ago, something terrible happened. He knew no details, no names, no time nor place. He knew not where she came from, her happening upon the wizard, her living among the Elves, and not even the true reason of her joining. All he knew was there was woman in front of him, blind to his watching in waning moonlight, hurting to feel something other than the shame and humiliation that plagued her.

Morning, movement, and set up all came again. Y/N was brandishing her blade, sparring with a sturdy oak near the clearing. Chips of bark and wood flew with each hit, and notch being made with every impact.

Dwalin had come to join her, offering tips and stances to try. From any outside view, it was just another standard of training. He did not sugar-coat his criticisms, quick to tell her what she was doing wrong and what she needed to be doing instead. But from those closest to him, they knew that his soft spot was growing—especially the brothers.

They knew first-hand what Dwalin’s corrections looked like. He did not hold back in knocking them flat, or banging the hilt of his axe into their backs when they tried to stand back up. But here, he would just have her stand up immediately and try again, barking some order of her failing. They even thought she was about to have enough and throw a sword through his nose. But she didn’t, not that they should’ve been surprised. She was tougher, seemingly, now. The adjustments were plain to see, as she implemented them immediately and started sparring better and faster.

“You’re slow,” he told her.

“I’ve also been going for an hour,” she retorted, picking up the pace in her swings. “And striking a tree is boring.”

“If you wanted more entertainment you could always spar against me.”

She dropped her sword, fear seeping into her skin. “What?” she asked. “Against you? Master Dwarf, I may talk big but I don’t think I’m quite ready for that.”

He shrugged, spinning his axe before leaning it against the tree. “It’ll be good for you to see what you’re working towards.”

She grabbed her sword, watching as Dwalin walked to Thorin, asking for his weapon.

“Do you think that wise?” the king asked.

His friend nodded, unsheathing the blade and spun it in his grasp. “She can only gain something from this. I know none of us want a repeat of what happened in that town.”

The fire in Thorin’s chest started to burn again, except it was a feeling he could only attribute to jealousy. She had asked to train with him, as innocent as the question and request was. Dwalin was proficient in the sword, but it was not his chosen weapon. And yet, he insisted in training her tonight. “Very well.”

Y/N straightened her back when Dwalin returned. “Are the others going to watch?”

“Excellent idea.”

“Wait no I wasn’t suggesting—”

“Everyone! Gather round, Miss Y/N is going to start her sword training.”

The Dwarves, Bilbo, and Gandalf looked up from their bowls of dinner. They started to chatter excitedly, moving to the edge of the clearing where they sat along the grass and continued to eat.

“Dinner and a show!” Bofur joked, leaning against the tree she sparred against. “It’s nice to not be a part of the entertainment for once.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are the entertainment, Master Bofur. Watch your head.”

The axe lulled to the side, nearly chopping off his leg if he didn’t react fast enough and roll away. The company laughed as he spilt his bowl of soup, grumbling since there was no more to be had.

“Nervous?” Dwalin asked her, rolling up his sleeves and revealing his tattoos.

She gulped the lump in her throat, mimicking his rolls and freeing up her movements. “A bit. More about embarrassing myself than anything.”

Thorin watched with a careful eye, crossing his arms at the sight. When the others looked to him to sound off the start, he nodded. “Begin!”

Dwalin extended his blade and motioned for her to come closer, having her cross her sword with his. “Don’t think of it as a longer dagger but as an extension to your arm. Let it stay loose in your grip and move freely, use that to your advantage.”

She shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It will.”

Shaking still, she decided to jump right into it and slash her sword against his, the sound of steel clashing filling the clearing. It didn’t faze him, as he swung with the impact and circled back around, hitting her blade and sending it flying from her grasp. “You didn’t do what I told you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t even know what you told me.”

“Begin!”

She parried around him, stepping one foot over the other in a stalking manner, both hands on the hilt. He stood still as she circled him, following her only with his eyes. Then, like a viper, and rushed forward and startled her, sending her tripping over her boots and landing on her stomach. He took the flat of his sword and smacked her rear, making her yelp and groan with anger. “Pay attention.”

“Did you just spank me?” she growled, only becoming more furious as the onlookers snickered.

“Those who don’t listen get punished.”

She stood to her feet, ignoring the slight sting, and peered her gaze. “Oh, I am going to behead you with glee.”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Let’s focus on you landing a hit.”

“Begin!”

Y/N started to land blows on his blade, quickening her moves despite how fast he was to block. For a moment she thought she was winning, driving him back across the clearing and steady his steps. That moment was short lived as for one block he swept his sword out and the force made her lose balance, he then shot around her and swept her feet from under her.

She wheezed from the fall, then screeched when another smack hit her rear. “Knock that off!”

“Stand and make me.”

“Begin!”

Begin, begin, begin, over and over, until her back was red and her fingers calloused. She thought she was close countless times, only to be overpowered each time. Dwalin considered ending the session, but saw how the determination was growing in her soul and was ready to pop.

“You fight like a wee fairy,” he teased, trying to egg her further into anger.

“That’s it!” she yelled, her fury finally boiling over. She charged forward, using more strength than she had before to send her blade down.

He blocked, pleasantly surprised by the force, as she quickly spun on one foot and brought it down again in the same motion. Then she sliced by his side, left then right and right again. She moved faster and faster, seemingly dancing around him with blow after blow speeding up. He actually felt a slight tinge of worry, his blocks barely saving him.

She yelled and growled, standing firm in her onslaught.

Finally, he was able to get ahead and send her sword flying from her hands. Thorin almost called the match when she charged him without a weapon, ducking his sword and grabbing his wrist. She swung herself around, wrapping her legs around his neck and spinning, sending him falling. Her grasp stayed on his blade-hand, freeing the hilt from his fingers. He fell backwards, her straddling his chest with the sword pressed to his neck.

She huffed, sweat beading down her face and hair flying wildly from their bounds. His eyes widened at the sight, of her holding him down with the bright fury clear in her eyes. His heart skipped.

“That’s enough,” Thorin called, irritation in his voice.

She exhaled, the anger leaving her face, as she rolled off his chest and extended a hand. “How was that for a wee fairy?” she asked, voice light and humorous.

He took her hand, still marveling at her growing skills. “Fantastic.”

After the circle broke from the sidelines, Thorin went to his friend, who ate his dinner silently, watching the Hobbit pull her hair from its tie and ready herself for bed. “She did well,” he said, breaking the silence.

Dwalin nodded. “Aye. Very skilled. Though, I do worry a bit.”

“How do you mean?”

He shrugged, tapping his spoon on the bowl side. “Sometimes anger and passion can aid us in battle, the way it did tonight. But I hate to think what happens if she cannot tap into that on the field. Or worse, she taps in to the point that the power it gives her clouds her judgement.”

Thorin knelt by his side, joining him. “She will get stronger and won’t need such hatred.”

“I hope so. It’s hard to tell now, with everything that happened. She needs some sort of closure or something else to focus on. Right now, she can only think of what happened.” Dwalin finished the last of his soup, tossing the bowl back to Bombur who was cleaning up the fire. “Though, I could always be wrong. I can’t say I know much of women.”

The king chuckled, but it was airy and hollow. “Even if you did, I’d doubt it could be applied to her.”

His eyes had a slight twinkle to them, watching as she went to say her good nights. “She is unlike the dames I’ve ever met.”

Thorin, who watched his friend soften in a way he’d yet to see, resolved himself in a sacrifice he thought needed to be made. How much trust did she have in him? How much trust did he deserve? How much would she rely on him when he staked place in her life in the way he has? He didn’t know, but feared it was too much. But at least Dwalin was there to offer her that support, when he decided he couldn’t.

The next day, she continued her practice strikes alone. Despite her success in the previous day’s training, she was still quiet. The emotions that were still clouding her did not disappear from the victory the way they had thought it would. If anything, she seemed more unlike herself with how she kept insisting someone train with her, looking for a fight and an assailant to let her anger out on.

Balin stood over his king, who was cleaning his sword from the training. “Thorin, do not do this,” he pleaded. “Trust her in what she says.”

“We need to focus on reclaiming our homeland,” Thorin said, buckling his blade to his hilt. “We cannot do that if everyone is worried over her behavior. We certainly can’t if she herself cannot handle it.”

“I know you are not so cruel,” his friend spoke, shaking his head. “I have heard the things you say in order to protect the rest of us. I know when you mean it and I know when you do not.”

Thorin hesitated, only for a moment, but quickly returned to shedding his coat and readying his sleeves. “Stay here.”

Y/N did not look up as Thorin approached but acknowledged him in between her strikes. “Good evening, Oakenshield. Am I to fight you tonight?”

He swallowed his doubts. “I need to speak to you before we start.” He gestured towards the clearing, away from the camp.

“Um, alright.”

Thorin held on hand on the hilt of his sword, avoiding eye contact as they moved to the side and she stood in front of him. “We need to talk about your attitude.”

She laughed; a bit incredulous. “My attitude?”

“Please do not interrupt.” Her smile fell from her face, and she waved her hand for him to continue. “Dwarves are a fiercely loyal race, and these Dwarves before you hold you in deep and caring regards. But your emotions are effecting them in a negative way.” He kept his hand up to stop her from speaking, forcing his face to harden, digging to find some sort of anger in his chest. “Each tear, each aversion, each lie you tell harms this company’s purpose.”

“What are you trying to say? I cannot control how they feel. I said I was fine, and if they cannot trust that—”

“How can you expect them to?” he erupted, causing her to stumble back. “You have not eaten, and you have not slept. This has been a pattern even predating the incident, and it has only progressed.”

She bit her lip, feeling an intense heat rise in her face. “I do not appreciate this implication of blame.”

“I informed you from our very first meeting that having you here would increase risks… and distractions.”

She cocked her head, her grip tightening on the handle of her sword. “Are you saying I am at fault because I am a woman? Was it not you who said to never utter the thought that I should be at blame for the thoughts and actions of others against me?”

“It was also I who said you should not have come!” His roar shook the trees around them, and the company looked over at the commotion. He took a step, closing the gap as he lowered himself to her face. “If you do not heed my warnings, fine. A confident fool if you must. But then you must keep your emotions under control. Do not let this happen again.”

As he turned to walk away, the tree to his left, at eye level, suddenly had a dagger sticking from it. He looked back, barely granting a glance, and saw Y/N, panting with misty eyes and a hand extended out from her. “How dare you speak to me in such a callous tone. How dare you look me in the eye and take back your word as if it meant nothing.”

“Do not speak to me of my word. I have broken nothing.” He unsheathed his sword, and stabbed it into the ground, letting it stand straight. “Dwalin will train you tonight. I do not have the energy to waste.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine: Unwearied Were Durin’s Folk

Word Count: 6,423 words

Chapter Warnings: Thorin being jealous and stupid, sickness.

**

  "So is there anyone you fancy?" Gloin asked, causing Y/N to choke on her soup.

  A carrot was caught in her throat, and she had no choice but to swallow it whole. The pain settled in the square of her upper back, and she rubbed her chest. "Pardon?" she asked. “I thought we had already settled this matter?”

  Gloin shrugged, swirling his bowl of soup in his hand. "I mean, we’ve only spoke of your proposals, ne’er anyone you like. And it’s just that you've met many traveled people. Surely there's one lucky lad who has captured your heart along the way, even if just the slightest.” 

  She laughed, a forced laugh, and set down her dish. "I must say, Master Dwarf, that whether I fancied someone or not does not matter."

  He scowled, bristling his beard. "It doesn’t matter? It mattered to me when I met my wife."

  "Yes, but you had affections for her in return," she explained, holding her hands together, palms flat. "Even if I did feel that level of attraction, it would not matter. The other party simply would not love me back."

  "That's a rather morbid way to look at life," Balin gaped, sipping his soup.

  She let her hands drop, her elbows lazily on her knees as her wrists hung loose. "Since when did my life become so important?" She cocked a brow, leaning back against the rock. “I swear, ever since Gandalf spoke it has been the circling conversation point.”

  Balin lifted his hands up in surrender, one splashing the bowl around. "Forgive me for caring about you, lass."

  She pointed at Gloin. "You, I think are just curious." She shifted her finger and had it pointing to the nose of the company’s scribe. "You, however, are thinking something quite secretive. I do not trust that notion for a second."

  He laughed, rubbing his nose, "Where did the sweet and trusting Miss Y/N go? I'm sure she was the one who signed the contract."

 She rolled her eyes. "I think our memories of that night differ greatly. I quite remember being told to leave because of my outbursts." She let the piece of Thorin’s part in that remain silent. She glanced very quickly in his direction and turned back when their eyes met briefly.

“It is such passion that allowed for successful battle against the Goblins and Azog’s attack.” Gloin offered, nodding his cheers to her.

  "Yes, I’ll be sure to let the Orcs know of my passionate spirits the next time our swords cross.” The three of them laughed, her throwing her head back and letting her curls fall. When her eyes opened, and the two Dwarves were holding their tongues from more questions, she sighed. “I’ll tell you a secret, if you can keep it to yourselves,” she whispered, hand on the corner of her mouth.

They nodded frantically, scooting to the edge of their seats.

“Before this journey, a Dwarf offer me his hand in marriage.”

It was their turn to choke, coughing wildly into their soups and dabbing their beards from the spilling broth. “You what?” Gloin demanded.

She giggled a bit at the memory. “It wasn’t anything serious and clearly I declined. There was a Dwarf, named Londer, in a town of Man. I can’t recall why he was there, but Gandalf went to meet with someone important. I had tagged along and spent my time riding my pony Chamomile over the hills outside the town.” She hummed thinking of her pony, and wondered if she was doing well now. “And over yonder came bounding a Dwarf dressed in full armor and a hammer on his back.”

Balin leaned to Gloin. “Do you know a Londer?”

“Haven’t the faintest.”

“He was there while we were, and we had some lovely conversations about ponies and gems and the make of my daggers. Then it came to when we were leaving and he called me to the stables. I went there and he dropped on one knee and offered this…” She waved her hands at her neck. “Gigantic ruby necklace. He said that ruby was the stone of passion and love, what he thought I was.”

Gloin’s eyes widened, fully engrossed by the story. “What did you say?” he asked, as Balin smacked his head.

“I obviously said no! He was very nice, but I hardly knew him.”

As Gloin rubbed the back of his head, Balin raised a brow. “Tell me, lass. Do you remember the name of the pub in that town?”

Y/N tapped her chin, searching her memory. “I think it was called the Prancing Pony, but it’s all fuzzy. It rained terribly one of those days and I stayed in the inn.”

Thorin, from the side, perked his head up. He had been listening close, and realize that when Gandalf went to see him all those months ago to propose the journey, she had been there. She had been there getting proposed to.

“Oh, Londer. I hope he met a nice lady. He certainly had a nice necklace.” Then she laughed loudly.

As she came down from her joyful high, she felt a slight tug on one of her locks, and she opened her eyes to see no one other than Kili looking down. “Good evening," she said, easing her brows. "What brings you over to the fireplace? Aren't you supposed to be keeping watch?"

  "That's not until later tonight, when everyone falls asleep." He tugged at the lock of hair once more, causing her to rip her head away.

“Personal space, sir,” she said, looking him up and down. “Did your brother knock the senses out of you again? I haven’t it in me to start another row with you.”

He chuckled, eyes darting between the two Dwarves watching the interaction. “Your hair is so untamed,” he teased. “How do you ever manage to stop it from matting while you sleep?”

She absentmindedly ran a hand delicately over her hair, noting the wild volume from the shortened care. “I sleep in the dirt with the rest of the lot. Certainly, the knots in my back would be more of a concern.”

“You’ll have to cut it if you don’t start at least brushing it.”

She huffed, tossing the remaining contents of her supper into the brush. “Well, if you’re so particular about it then you can go ahead and do it for me.”

  Gloin suddenly choked against his soup, coughing as he pounded a fist against his chest.

Kili’s joking face fell, as Y/N barely paid mind to him. “You mean braid your hair?”

“You are the self-proclaimed expert,” she offered, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll feel much more comfortable should you be the one to do it.”

“…Really?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! if it’ll get you to silence yourself about my curls.”

“Well, if you insist!” Before Kili could round the rock she sat on, a quick blur passed and knocked the Dwarf to the ground.

It happened rather fast, but she barely gave her attention when she noticed it was Fili who attacked, and the two began to wrestle in the dust. “I never thought I would miss the quiet evenings my study brought me.”

Bilbo, who was passing by, nodded. “Remember this feeling should you ever question my original hesitance again.”

“Yes, but it was much more humorous when I was just a witness,” she retorted, a grin tugging its way up her lips. Grunts of struggle was heard behind her, as the two princes continued to fight. “Any reason that’s happening?” she asked, pointing at the tussle.

Balin set down his bowl, glancing over her shoulder. "Tell me, lass, how much of Dwarvian culture do you know? Diplomatic studies must’ve allowed you many opportunities to learn of different traditions."

  She shook her head, twirling a curl around her middle finger. “Oh, I haven’t the slightest about Dwarvian culture. Just a few stories and legends. Nothing more. A distaste for Elves is a common trait you all seem to share. As much as I insisted on learning, Dain isn’t the most welcoming of strangers. I think we got as far as the outer wall."

  Balin's lips formed a tight line, that he pushed up into a smile. "I figured as much. If you would excuse me." He stood up from his log, wiping the dirt from his trousers, and left muttering.

Bilbo took his place, rubbing his hands and holding them up to the fire, as Y/N began to braid a piece of hair. Her fellow Hobbit noticed, pointing directly at her. “Are you actually doing what those Dwarves told you to?”

She gasped, sputtering to get out a word. “No! No I’m just… never mind what I’m doing!” His finger stayed pointed, eyes never wavering. “Oh alright. So they do have a point. Whether or not my hair is for glamour is irrelevant. But I’ve quite enough with people grabbing at it in combat. It wouldn’t be unwise to contain it.”

“Surely living with those Elves would have given you some insight.”

She scoffed, undoing the piece and starting again. “You would think. But Hobbit hair and Elven styles do not mix as well as one might think. And I can’t exactly practice if I’ve no one to practice on.”

“You can practice on me!” Kili yelled from the ground, only for his brother to push him further into the dirt.

“I can’t recall a single time you bathed yourself since we’ve begun our journey,” she answered, looking over her shoulder. “The day I touch your hair is the day I cut my hands from my wrists.”

The next day, Thorin demanded to keep moving. Time was slipping through their fingers— precious time they did not have. Instead of stopping for the night, he called for an all-night journey. Risky, as the walking would have to be done in relative silence and darkness. The silence was nothing Y/N had to worry about, but the darkness was something to be overcome. Gandalf had tried insisting that she hold to his sleeve, as he would be able to lead without losing her, but she denied on the premise of, “I cannot be the only one to hold the hand of another.”

Luckily, they kept to the traveler’s path. But dark clouds rolled in, and it was not long into dusk did it begin to rain. Dori clearly wanted to ask Gandalf if he could stop the deluge, but quickly stopped himself after remembering that he was not that kind of wizard.

Mud and sloshing slick coated the path, causing stumbles from the suction hold it held on the company’s feet and shoes. Y/N wondered if her pony was doing well, still holding onto her warm winter coat and slick cloak that easily resisted downpours. Instead, she was silently marching in her now heavy coverings, counting the seconds until the sun rose.

When sunlight finally peaked over the horizon, Thorin called a brief break for cleaning and rations. “We continue in five,” he ordered, before walking out ahead to survey the rolling hills.

Y/N took off her boot to dump the water, shaking her wet curls. “How is he exactly the same after walking for such a night? It’s nearly been a full twenty-four hours and he looks the exact same,” she grumbled. “His clothes are just as dry, his hair just as groomed, his face just as nice.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, just not bad.” Ripping stale bread with her teeth, she quickly ate half a portion before wringing out her hair and standing. “Right, let’s get on with it, shall we?” she announced.

Some Dwarves looked rather displeased at the rushing by both their leader and their Hobbit, but stood nonetheless. Fili was the first to smile and pump his fist in the hair. “Aye! That’s the spirit, lass!” He stomped his way towards her, weighed down by his own soaked clothes, and clasped her hand in his. “Keep up spirits, lads. The faster we move the sooner we reach the mountain.”

Y/N grinned wide, trying to revive those excited and happy emotions to push her through the next twelve hours before she could finally rest. After pulling her hand away she coughed into a closed fist, sniffling as she cleared her throat. “And sooner we can sleep.”

Through determination and perseverance, Thorin examined a rocky peak, much like the one on their first ever night, and said, “Let us stop here for the night. We can continue at first light.”

“Finally!” Gloin shouted, collapsing and snoring immediately upon landing on the ground. Y/N swore she saw the stone crack under his forehead, but decided that if something was wrong he wouldn’t be sleeping so soundly.

She dropped her own things, falling into a sitting position and began to peel her still damp clothes from her body. She stayed in her long-sleeved shirt and thin trousers, but let her second layers and coat hang from the branches of a sturdy tree erupting from the rock. Then, she leafed through her bag for her second half of bread and ate it as she raked her fingers through her hair. Due to the rubbing of her hood and the cold rain of the day, she began to worry about her scalp and whether it would be or rated by the abuse it sustained. Surely sleeping now would only cause it to mat in the night and result in serious pain by morning. “Master Dwalin,” she said, her voice thick and hoarse. “Do you have a brush?”

He looked up from his cot, the rings under his eyes revealing that he too was feeling the effects of the long day. “A brush?”

“Yes, I need to do something before I sleep. I can’t have that prince be correct in his prodding.”

He laughed and searched through his bag. “You’ve asked one of the few Dwarves with a shaved head for a brush. I’ll doubt I even have one.”

“I don’t trust asking one of the royals. They’ve all mentioned something about my braiding skills, and I don’t need them to add on my frizzy hair.”

He nodded, fully agreeing with how annoying it would be, and found a comb he had used for his beard. “Here you are, lass.”

She eyed it, noting the few teeth missing in the row, and wondered if she would be able to use it without breaking it further.

Dwalin watched her ponder and clicked his tongue before saying, “Everything alright?”

“I think I’ll snap this in two, and then I’ll feel terrible. Do you think you could help me?” He took a moment to think about it, almost opening his mouth to decline, but ultimately nodded. She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Chuckling, he walked behind her and sat on his knees, carefully parting her hair to begin combing the underneath, slowly working his way up her head. She hummed at the contact, shivers sent up her spine and resting in her neck. He was gentle in knotted areas, carefully massaging her scalp as he worked through the thicker parts. “That feels nice.”

He didn’t say anything. She felt his finger falter as he gave a sharp grunt in response.

“I hope it isn’t too troublesome. My Elven Ladies hated doing my hair. They brushed as if exorcising demons from my curls.”

He laughed. “None at all. I wouldn’t take what those tree-shaggers say with too much weight. They don’t have the brains to take care of you the way they needed.” He stopped himself, suddenly cursing for letting something so intimated slip. He meant it, but wasn’t sure if she would take it as a euphemism of something that would have Gandalf pike his head.

She didn’t say anything, sighing into the feel. “Thank you. Maybe in less wilderness settings you can teach me what they didn’t.”

Somehow, her response made it worse.

Y/N wasn’t sure when it happened, but sometime into the braiding of her hair she fell asleep, head lulling and balancing on her neck. Dwalin wasn’t sure she had fallen asleep until he heard a small noise in her throat like a soft snore. He finished quickly upon realization, clipping silver beads with red gems embedded in them on the ends of his work.

“What are you doing?”

He looked up to see Thorin staring down at his, a murderous glare upon his features. “She asked for helped,” he gulped.

“Yes, and you are finished now so you can leave her be.”

“Aye, Oakenshield.”

Thorin made sure Dwalin climbed into his own cot, noticing how he refused to meet his gaze. He looked back at the dozing Hobbit, who was still miraculously upright in her slumber. His eyes flashed something fiery at the sight of the rubies in her hair, and the intricate molding of the hair clips. Her hair was done with two braids one each side of face, pulled back into a four-piece containing all of her hair. Pieces of her bangs remained free, gently curling as they dried. He sighed, because such a style required love and care, and he didn’t want to see such admiration given by his dear friend.

He knelt at her side, cradling her head as he laid her down, resting her on her cot and pulling her blanket over her body.

She woke up sweating, feeling her body ache with every movement to turn towards her supplies, in hopes to reach her water. But even that small reach of an adjustment sent sore shocks through her muscles, as if she had spent the previous day holding the heavens on her shoulders. Now, Y/N has felt a way such before, once staying in the care of Galadriel’s ladies and lords. But the constant, vigilant care and almost unbearable smothering that came with their nursing prevented her from wanting to ask for assistance ever again.

However, as heat continued to radiate out from her skin, and her throat dry and scratching upon itself, it was clear she needed someone to pass her pouch.

Her mouth fell open, and all she could manage from her chapping lips was a squeak, a barely audible rasp. Gods, I feel like I’m on fire. She tried again, this time getting a whisper out. “Fili…” she pushed out, noticing the Dwarf close by. “Fili…”

He had set up in the direction of her feet, stirring ever so slightly at the sound of her voice. When he did not fully wake, she toed the back of one of her shoes, slipping it off the heel and used the last of her effort to kick it off and hit the prince.

He woke with a start, immediately producing a dagger from his coat and holding it out to the darkness. When no danger presented itself, he searched to see what had hit him and held Y/N’s shoe out for her. “You dropped this,” he said in a gruff and tired voice.

But Y/N had already slipped unconscious, her chest rising and falling shallow and rapidly. He stood up, craning his neck to attempt to see her better. “Are you warm, lass?” He grabbed his own pouch, making his way slowly to her, whispering her name. “Y/N, come on,” Fili whispered, holding his water out to her. “You need to drink something.” He knelt down beside her, lightly grabbing her shoulder, He pulled it back, as if burned, and gasped.

She was hot, too hot for such a chilly night. The cot around her was soaked wet, and her blanket was pushed off of her, causing the cold air to set on her skin. “Oin!” he shouted, his palm pressed firmly against Y/N’s forehead. “Oin! Get over here, quickly!”

The Dwarf was knocked awake by Bombur, who had accidently clubbed him while jostling at the sudden shouting. “What’d ya say!?” he yelled in return, reaching for his hearing trumpet as the rest of the camp began to complain. “By Durin’s beard, you better have a good reason for scaring an old Dwarf out of his rest!”

“Brother, we’ve walked for thirty-six hours. Only a demented, cruel man would interrupt the one time to relax,” Kili groaned, throwing a forearm over his eyes.

“Aye, whatever it is can wait until morning!” Bofur added, yawning before cuddling into his pack.

“It’s Y/N! She’s not waking.” The camp woke in an instant, sitting up in a cold start. Oin clambered to get up, pushing against Bombur’s forehead as assistance, and stumbled his way over, hearing trumpet left behind and medic parcel in his hand.  “I woke to offer her water and she wouldn’t stir. And when I went to shake her, she was burning up!” Fili explained, running a hand over his face.

Dwalin pushed his way to the prince’s side, heart dropping into his stomach.

Oin opened his bag and pulled out clean rags. He quickly soaked them in water and began to lightly dab her forehead. Her skin was flushed, a layer of gleam across her completely. She took shallow breaths, through her parted mouth. Her eyebrows were knitted in pain and her eyes shut tight. “Y/N, can you hear me?” he asked. She made no sign of consciousness, instead pulling herself away from the coolness of the cloth. “I’ll have to make her an herbal remedy, hopefully bring down the fever.”

Thorin appeared behind the three, looking over as they worked. The whole company had piled closely, as the sun began to rise, all speaking over each other with questions and concerns. He turned to them, scowling at the sight. “Give them space and pack your things.”

Bilbo raised a brow. “But Thorin—”

“Do it!” The crowd dispersed as Thorin turned back, noticing how her discomfort was putting her in a… well, he couldn’t bring himself to think of such a word to describe her state. Her shirt was pulled up, exposing her stomach, the ties of her neckline coming undone. Her arms were stretched above her, elongating her torso, and causing her hips to peak over the band of her trousers. “Step aside.” He knelt beside her, shedding his coat, and laying it on top of her, attempting to bring her some normalcy in her state of undress. “Can you work while moving?”

“I don’t deem it wise, Thorin,” he replied, beginning to pluck his herbs from their wrappings, inspecting them closely before setting them aside for use. “Movement could worsen her condition. And I need boiling water to steep these.”

“Boil some now and use a canteen to steep. We leave once you’ve finished.”

Fili stood, grabbing Thorin by the shoulder to halt him from walking away. “Uncle, she cannot walk. It is what put her in this state to begin with.”

“Do not question me.” He paused, his face softening, and rest his hand upon his nephew’s to offer comfort. “I will not ask her to.”

“Then what would you have her do?”

“I will carry her.” Dwalin answered as he placed his axe on his back, tightening the strap to keep it in place.

Fili glared, eyeing him up and down. “You?”  

The large Dwarf shrugged, cracking his knuckles. “One day you’ll be strong enough to volunteer.”

Thorin’s face hardened once again, turning away to hide his expression. “Very well.”

Once the water had come to a rolling boil, Oin poured some into Y/N’s empty pouch and stuck the sprigs in, sealing it shut. He motioned that he was finished, shaking the canteen to help release the properties and infuse faster. “Be careful with her. Jostling could cause discomfort,” he instructed to Dwalin, who nodded before carefully scooping his arms under her legs and behind her back.

As he lifted, she groaned, head lulling over. He adjusted her, such that her cheek was pressed to his chest, and she shivered into Thorin’s coat. He linked his hands underneath her, locking his arms in place to hold her for longer. He gave a nod to his king, who announced to begin moving.

“Has anyone seen Gandalf?” Bilbo asked aloud, looking for the wizard. When no one answered he rolled his eyes. “Of course not. He’s always elsewhere when you need him and lingering when you don’t.”

The world spun and swayed, like a ship on a rising tide, drifting out towards an endless black sea. Cruel heat pounded down on the back of Y/N, the only sailor aboard a desolate ghost vessel. The wind creaked through the broken sails, applying an frost on sunburnt skin. As she held to the fighting wheel, she struggled to remember why she was sailing in the first place.

Off the left side, bouncing through the darkness, were pieces of furniture and boards, sweeping under the never-slowing ship and erupting in splinters. Sounds of scratching and clawing filled her ears as she watched Orcs and Goblins pile over the sides, but never rushing her or attacking.

Instead, they were fleeing the abyss of the ocean, steaming and melting from the poisonous waves. They scream in silence, collapsing on themselves as skin burned away, leaving only bone to become ash. But she did not waver and she did not fall, holding tight to continue forward, towards the edge of world beyond the horizon.

Figures manifested onboard, blurry and shadowed by an unplaced darkness. The first came to her with their arms outstretched, towering above her. Despite the loving nature exuding from their presence, she kept her hands in place.

The next figure approached with a twin at it’s side, both humming as if a laughter was escaping the smoke. They reached out as well, but before she could decide to not take them the pulled back, humming louder at the humorous occurrences.

The third stood on the steps, tall and proud against the ship. It offered no hand, sang no hum, and made no effort to meet her at her wheel. Instead, it looked at her. A true look. One of silence, understanding, and clarity. There was not responsibility, no flirt, and no advantage.

She blinked.

And it blinked back.

She let her grip waver, feeling how the moment she let go the wheel began to spin and the ship began to turn, tipping against the tide. The figure turned and began to walk away, and she let go to follow.

As the ship began to fall and crash into the sea, she leapt from the step, rushing to meet the figure leaving her behind. “Wait! Don’t go!” she shouted, her voice pushing through honey. “What are you doing? You’re going to drown.” The wind pushed her forward and back, screaming through the sails.

She reached out to it, grabbing onto the figure’s hand, only for the smoke to clear and the figure begin to disappear. “No,” it said, rumbling as the ship finally turned on its side. Her feet slipped from under her, and her nails broke as she clawed at the boards, trying to save herself. She looked to the figure, floating away with the wind. “But you will.”

“This is the last dose. She should be alright by tomorrow,” Oin said, tipping the last drops of the remedy past her lips. “Aren’t you tired?”

Dwalin carefully laid her down on top of the cot Oin had set, lightly brushing her bangs from her face. “I’m fine,” he gruffed. “I’m going to bed. Do not wake me.” He went to remove his hand, but she groggily reached for it, wrapping her fingers around his palm.

“Wait…” she muttered; her face twisted in pain. “Don’t go…”

Oin’s eyes widened, looking between him and Y/N, his lips pursed in a tight line. Dwalin met his eyes, clearing his throat. “I’ll set up here… It uh… it is a good distance from the flames.”

Oin said nothing, but he didn’t need to with a growing smirk producing under his beard.

Moments later, Y/N sat up suddenly, gasping for air and causing her watcher to flinch. She immediately grabbed her head, groaning at the movement. “Oh, stars above, my head.”

“By gods; you scared me, lass.” Dwalin extended a hand to her, holding out bread and some sliced cheese. “Here, eat this.”

She shook her head, slowly and with premeditated care. “I don’t think I can bring myself to a single bite.”

“You should try anyway.”

She hesitated, contemplating as her stomach rolled over itself and her arms continued to ache. “Do you insist?”

“I do.”

“…I shall eat the bread. Perhaps that will settle things.” She took the piece and laid down, eating it slowly as she closed her eyes. “My head is swimming.”

“That is what happens when you are sick.”

“I am not sick,” she denied, a piece of bread resting in her cheek. “Just a bit sore.”

Dwalin raised a brow. “You are aware you’ve been out for nearly eighteen hours, correct?”

“Dis-correct. Or, un-correct… In-indirect.”

“You are still sick.”

“You’re still sick.” She finished off her ration, turning on her side and sighing. “Perhaps I should sleep again.”

“I deem that very wise.”

She hummed, a strand of hair escaping her thoughtful braid and slipping down her cheek. “Dwalin, you are quite nice.”

He stopped himself from saying anything, which he found quite easy as he didn’t know what he could even say. Instead, he interlaced his fingers, resting his palms over his stomach, and leaned his head against the rock behind him. By the time he had decided to thank her, he noticed how her breathing had steadied and she was asleep once more and let her rest uninterrupted.

As the two began their night of rest, Thorin tried his hardest to ignore their quiet repour. It was quite easy for him to link this feeling with those that were already present in his mind. The slow nature to the mountain, the dredge of their journey building. But he could not truly convince himself it was not something else, no matter how similar they were. For he had a growing anger and impatience for their arrival, and some differing emotion entirely in watching the two speak so softly to one another.

As the days carried on, they stuck to each other. Granted, she didn’t show much favoritism. She still wandered into the woods on her own and she wasn’t picky about watches, set ups, or order of walking. But everyone could see how she lit up to train for the night. And since Dwalin was the one training her (and sometimes Bofur but she started besting him most of the time, leaving him without much to teach) they would eat after everyone else, sitting together with their bowls.

Dwalin did not become a talker, but he listened more than he used to. Before, he would stay by his brother and wait for the orders to move, fight, or sleep. But now, she was telling random stories of Elves and how she used to distress them, making him chuckle. He was the first to ask a question during her tales and the last to stop laughing.

“Can you tell us another story?” Ori asked one night, even though Dori had told him to stop asking (he had requested a story for the past seven nights in a row).

“Well, I’ll have to think a moment. I feel I’ve told so many already.” She looked to Gandalf, who smoked his pipe and blew rings of smoke into the sky. “I can’t believe I’m to ask of this, but Gandalf? Do you have any stories of mine you think I should share?”

He tapped the tip of his pipe against his chin. “Well, have you shared the first time you were arrested?”

Kili gasped. “Arrested?”

“First time?” Fili added.

She held her hands in defense. “Hey, now, I was innocent.” She paused. “Mostly.”

Gandalf chuckled, watching the ring dissipate in the air. “She was arrested by Hobbits.”

Bilbo stared at her. “What, in Bag End?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yes, Bilbo, in Bag End. Your stomping grounds have quite the ridiculous rules. I was arrested the first time I showed up to a festival.” She stood up in front of the blazing fire, facing the gathering crowd as the light behind her brought a sinister shadow to her face. “Let me string a tale of how I got my daggers, the very ones I use to this day.”

She pulled them from her hips and watched them glisten in the light. “I was a young Hobbit, barely 20, when Gandalf brought me along for the Midsummer’s Eve festival where he would launch the biggest and brightest fireworks into the sky. And he even had me…” She paused for dramatic effect, waving the Dwarves closer. “Wear bright yellow Hobbiton clothes!” She pretended the scream in horror, making Ori laugh delightfully.

“You looked lovely!” Gandalf protested.

“I looked like a nursery rhyme.

“But leading up to the festival, Gandalf had me go to the market to procure him more blast powder, promising the locals that he had a fantastic show stopper. But he didn’t have it made, and wanted it done by that night, like he promised. I went there, and as I was about to spend the coin I saw two decorated daggers hanging from the side of the stand.” She waved the blades. “I asked how much they were, and the Hobbit said they weren’t for sale. Well, I wasn’t having any of it. After arguing back and forth for ten minutes he relented and said, ‘Okay, lass. If you beat me in a game of cards, I’ll let you keep them.’”

She snapped her fingers, and Gandalf blew his smoke into the flames, magically producing the scene. Behind her, just over the fire, was the silhouette of a Hobbit girl and man, sitting at a table with cards. “It was a simple enough game of poker, and the cards he had laid out were seemingly perfect. He had a royal flush and a ten, which would’ve made him the winner. But I wanted these blades more than I want the air in my lungs. So I did something rather… naughty.”

The smoke behind her twisted and the Hobbit girl reached across the table as the man turned around, and shuffled through the deck to pull out an ace. “With my winning hand, I took the daggers and the powder, and congratulated myself on my victory. But as I left the stand, the man saw the ace stacked on top of the original four, and chased after me through the hills of the Shire. When I thought I had escaped, BAM!”

Her smoke ran into two Hobbits, a part of the mayor’s council. “I was arrested and grounded in the mayor’s chambers until the sun dipped down. I knew I had to get out, but what they didn’t realize was that my hair was done by Elves. And Elves love to use pins. I had that lock picked in less than 30 seconds, grabbed my belongings from the desk, and made it to the festival in time for Gandalf to make and light his finale.”

The company clapped as she bowed, juggling her two daggers before returning them to her hips.

“Did they ever catch you again?” Dwalin asked.

“Nay, and neither did they find out who the mysterious Hobbit was,” Bilbo piped up, shaking his head as he laughed. “A very crude and inaccurate sketch of you is on every stand during the festivals. Though, I didn’t know it was you until you confessed just now.”

“Well, now you know. I’m the special Hobbit that fuddled the entire Shire, all because I wanted something that shined.”

“Now that,” Nori said, pointing at her in solidarity, “sounds like a Dwarf.”

Now, Dwalin wasn’t the only one who shared a new bond with her. She had gotten rather good at making conversation with anyone in the company. Bilbo she talked all things Hobbit, and they shared knowing glances when the Dwarves got too loud. The princes she bickered with, but all three enjoyed the banter. She cooked and aided with Bombur and Oin, helped Balin with his scribing and scrolls, and even started to learn a bit of Dwarvish for Bifur’s sake.

But one of the most special bonds was that of her and Bofur, who constantly asked she play a tune with him. He had pipes and a flute, and asked for a duet as often as he could. She would decline until he would beg, holding his hand to his heart. Or even his head to remind her that she kicked him rather hard. So, soft for her friends, she would oblige him and play a tune that he could follow and vice versa.

One day, while walking in a downpour, he asked her to play with him.

“No, it’s raining!” she insisted, trudging through the mud. “You need to start playing for me; I feel extorted.”

“You hurt me, lass. I would never use you. You just play so beautifully!”

“Hmph, well my point still stands. You play if you want to so badly.”

The others quickly assured him he didn’t need to, begged him not to, but he pulled our his flute anyway, making them all groan. “Oh, don’t worry, laddies. You all like this one.” Rather than play another upbeat jig, his notes were low and somber, playing almost what seemed to be a funeral march.

The Dwarves heads popped up in the rain, recognizing the tune and almost falling back into their musical ways, just as they had at Bilbo’s house when recalling the dragon. “Of mighty kings in Nargothrond/ and Gongolin, who now beyond/ the Western Seas have passed away./ The world was fair in Durin’s day.”

They continued their march, humming together. She joined to just offer some structure, singing and humming a few ooh’s and aah’s out of respect. “Unwearied then were Durin’s folk/ beneath the mountains music woke./ The harpers harped and minstrels sang/ and at the gates the trumpets rang.”

As they finished their song, Y/N brushed her cloak of the water. “Much care goes into the songs and legend you sing,” she told her company.

“It is who we are,” Balin responded. “We are Durin’s folk.”

She looked ahead, smiling sadly as the Dwarf noticed. “It must be so lovely to have that. Even in times of great suffering and loneliness to know you still have your people.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “These are your people too, now.”

And in her heart of hearts, she wanted so badly to believe what he said was true.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten: The Waves of Life/Lies in the Morning Aurora

Word Count: 8131 words

Warnings: male nudity, mentions of skin-changer torture/genocide

***

“/Through the eyes of the stars, the Elven are born./” After a moment of thinking, she spoke again. “/From the light of the tree, the Elven are home./” More moments passed. “/In the land of the West, where the renown will rest, the songs of peace are forever known./”

“What are you muttering over here, lass?” Dwalin asked, coming up from behind her.

“Good morning to you too,” she smiled, tightly binding the hilt of her sword with a strip of leather.

“It sounded like you were reciting something. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were casting a spell on us.”

“At the rate of snoring you Dwarves are carrying, a spell of silence might do us all some good.”

He sat next to her, taking her lead and rebinding his own weapon. “How would that do the rest of us good? I sleep like a bairn every night.”

“I know, you are one of the many that keep me awake. Should I lose any more sleep, your rest may become permanent.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “But back to my original question.”

She felt the hilt in her grip, examining the angles and holds. “I was reciting Elven poetry. I was tasked in memorizing it many moons ago. It helps me idle the time away.”

He huffed. “Didn’t sound like any Elvish I’ve ever heard.”

With a laugh, she brushed hair from her face. “Well, you must be used to hearing Sindarin, common Elf-tongue. I was speaking Quenya, the language they spoke upon their first arrival to Middle Earth.

“They are near immortal, but not all came from the West. Only a few remember the language, Lady Galadriel being my teacher.” She tsked her work, quickly undoing it and trying again. “Many languages were lost during the First Age, and there are many more that will come. Sometimes, speaking in lost tongues makes me feel less alone. Gives hope that someone in the future will speak the words I spoke, and remember my story.”

Dwalin hadn’t expected the vulnerability, but she was too occupied to notice her admittance. Something about the work relaxed her, and allowed her idle speak. “Perhaps it is because I first heard it from your lips, but the words are beautiful.”

“Flatterer you are, Master Dwalin, but I thank you nonetheless. It seems there is only Elven dialect to learn, nowadays. One could make the argument that Man once spoke Sindarin, but Westron is all they know now.”

“You never learned Khuzdul?”

“Your brothers in the Iron Mountains do not wish to share their tongue nor their scriptures. If I were to learn, it would be by an act of thievery.” She smiled at the thought. “Perhaps then I would earn more respect.”

“Do you wish to learn?”

She raised a brow. “Are you willing to teach me?”

“You know I am not much of a teacher, but I suppose you could learn the same way I did.”

“And how did you learn?”

Then he responded in a different language, the words coming from all corners of his mouth, employing every muscle and tooth. It was rough and jagged, yet flowed like a river. It wasn’t flowery like Elvish, or simple like Westron. It was like blacksmith forges. It was smoky and deep.

“That was beautiful, what does it mean?”

He spoke the language again.

“Dwalin, what are… Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. You learned as a baby not knowing anything, so that is how you will teach me?”

He nodded, with a sentence she didn’t catch the syllables of.

She looked to the sky, a pleading look on her face and she prayed to anyone watching. “Why must this journey be harder than it already is? Deliver me from this misery.”

At first, she thought it wouldn’t be so bad. There was hope on the horizon, as he treated her like a child and repeated words over an dover until she repeated them back with understanding. However, her luck grew sour as the other Dwarves caught wind of the little project and halted in speaking Westron completely.

Thorin was the only one to continue speaking in a language she knew, but it didn’t matter much given he wasn’t speaking to her except for barking orders. A week passed before she wondered what she would prefer, speaking a language she had no idea what anything meant or annoying words spat from a king.

“Bilbo, please speak to me. I fear I’m going mad,” she begged one evening.

But Bilbo was already approached by the princes, who threatened to hide his handkerchief should he ruin the teaching moment. He shook his head, turning back to unfurling his mat.

“/Please, will someone speak to me!/” she shouted suddenly from the back of her throat.

The Dwarves whipped their heads up, dead silence among the camp.

The eyes made her squirm. “/Did I pronounce that correctly?/”

Dwalin’s lips twitched. “/Aye, you did./”

She let out a sigh of relief. She could hardly understand more, but at least now she didn’t have to suffer in silence.

Bilbo was finally permitted to speak to her, which brightened the days even more than she had thought. She stood near him and Dwalin during their marches, sometimes holding the cuffs of their sleeves when passing over uneven territory.

When the others saw, they insisted on rotating who got to stand next to her. While she suggested they could hold on to one another, the idea was quickly dismissed when Bofur threw his arms open wide to Nori, who slapped him across the face when he got too close.

“This is perfect!” Bofur exclaimed one day, as they sat around the fire eating their bread. “Now we can start singing traditional songs. I could teach them to you!”

“I never would have guessed Dwarves were so musical,” she mused.

“Well, most everything is passed down through oral teachings. Songs, stories, lessons. Dwarves are no different.”

“Well, except our music is better,” Kili piped.

“Aye, the stories are good,” Fili continued.

She nodded her head, listening intently. “Alright, but don’t let this become a canary moment. I’m more than a songbird to display.”

Bofur gasped, pulling the cap from his head and holding it to his heart. “I would never dream of such an insult! No, Miss, you are the wind beneath our songbird wings. The… the breeze gently rocking the wind chimes. No! You are the resonating song that the ruby sings when you listen close enough.”

Despite it being clear he was only half serious, she warmed at the sweet words, quickly hiding her embarrassment with a cough. “You have such a way with words.”

“As a bardic Dwarf, his words are the only thing a man has.”

Bilbo stuck a thumb through the crust of his bread, contemplating his addition. “Are you a fan of poetry?” he asked finally.

She hummed. “Well, I wouldn’t dismiss it, but sometimes poetry is just words. Not word like a man’s honor, but empty meanings. I wouldn’t say that is the best way to another’s heart, friendship or otherwise.” As she spoke, more Dwarves gathered round, listening closely to every breath she shared.

“You see, words and action is like sun and rain, I suppose. Neither one can make the rose bloom on its own. Each flower and plant requires a different amount of each. I would say learning what it is that makes the love blossom is the most important ingredient to love.

“Take, perhaps, learning Dwarvish. I care deeply for you all, and you all deserve to be known in your own tongue and acknowledged by your own words. I also take my watch, tend our fire, and participate in song. This is my recipe to you, just as you training me and watching over me is your recipe to me.”

As she finished, a smoke butterfly landed on her nose, dissipating with a kiss. “And you said you had no way with words,” Gandalf interjected, puffing happily on his pipe.

She rolled her eyes, fanning the smoke away. “Of course, the recipe for Gandalf’s love is to stuff him full of tobacco and set off explosives in funny locations.”

“Your recipe,” Bilbo started, the only brave enough one to speak, “is it more word or action?”

She hummed once more. “Depends on the person. Are you more a man of word or action, and how hard do you try to remedy your weaker trait?”

“This all reminds me of a song!” Bofur sighed, looking wistfully through the flames.

Balin rolled his eyes. “Everything reminds you of a song.”

“But it is a good one!” He stood suddenly, ignoring the groans of his company, and pulled the lute from his pack. “Come on lads! It’s a jig at least.”

“We are to be up early,” Thorin spoke from the shadows. “We’ve no time for jigs.”

“Bah! A small one!”

Before their leader could protest more, Bofur had already started to strum. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it short and sweet, like our Hobbit maiden.”

“Didn’t she knock you out?” Nori asked.

“Details—I’d swim and sail on savage seas, with ne’er a fear of drowning./ I’d gladly ride the waves of life, if you will marry me.” He locked eyes with her, stepping down to one knee.

She rolled her eyes with a smile, throwing her hands up. “Oh for the love of—"

“Oh, marry a poor Dwarf, lass,” he mock pleaded. “Make an honest man of me. Reclaim my stone house and turn it into a home.”

She barked out a laughter. “This is certainly the most unique way I’ve been proposed to. I’ll tell you what, when we are both too old to be deemed marriage material, we can marry each other then.”

He twirled on his foot, strumming louder and faster. “Didya hear that lads? She said yes!

“No scorching sun nor freezing cold would stop me on my journey./ If you would promise me your heart—come on lass, I know you know the words!”

“And love me for eternity!” she relented. She stood up, pulling her fellow Hobbit with her, much to his loud and stammering protest. “Come on, Baggins. It’s time you joined the dance, just as I have.” She took his hand in hers, placing his other on her waist. “My dearest one, my darling dear, your mighty words astound me./ But I’ve no need of might deed when I feel your arms around me!”

Bofur motioned for his fellow Dwarves to follow suit, pulling up Nori, who pulled Dori, who pulled Ori, who pulled Gloin. Gandalf took his staff and magically pushed Oin, Bifur, and Bombur to stand. Fili and Kili shrugged and stood, locking arms as they started to spin. “But I would bring you rings of gold, I’d even sing you poetry./ I will keep you from all harm, if you would stay beside me!”

Y/N spun and switched partners, pushing Bilbo to the princes (much to the Hobbit’s dismay) and grabbed Dwalin who was still seated. “Come on, my friend! Dance with me!” she insisted, and it was with a glee and joy that the Dwarves had yet to see from her. “I have no use for rings or gold, I care not for your poetry./ I only want your hand to hold, I only want you near me!”

She hopped and spun around, switching from partner to partner in a round-a-round jig, even spinning under the arm of Gandalf as he chuckled lightly. “To love, to kiss, to sweetly hold, for the dancing and the dreaming,/ through all life’s sorrows and delights I’ll keep your love beside me!/” As the tune picked up, the Dwarves spun faster, until it was a blur of hats and beards, blending in with each other. “I’ll swim and sail on savage seas with ne’er a fear of drowning,/ I’ll gladly ride the waves of life if you will marry me!”

When the spinning stopped and the faces returned to their bodies, she opened her eyes to see herself staring at the Dwarven king, inches away from him. As it turns, the party and dancing grew wider than the fire ring, pushing close to Thorin’s seat. When he got up to excuse himself, she spun in front of him with a wide smile, and bright voice, asking him to marry her.

Her smile fell and she stepped back. “Apologies,” she said, bowing her head.

But she only saw hardness on his face. “You are too loud. Go to bed,” he gritted.

The company was quick and quiet to ready their cots, not even uttering a good night or establishing watch. During times like this, Thorin would just pick someone and all they could do was say yes.

Balin smacked the dust from his mat, looking to his friend who was taking a swig of water. “Might I speak plainly, Thorin?” he asked under a hushed breath, careful to not let anyone hear him.

“Very well.”

“That should’ve been you.” Then he turned his face and went to sleep.

Thorin did not ask him to clarify. It should’ve been him dancing? It should’ve been him singing? It should’ve been him that was teaching her Khuzdul? He already knew the answer. It was all of them. He should’ve taught her the first words, so she may call his name in his tongue. He should have joined the company, his loyal friends, in song, and he should have held her hand as she spun.

But he knew his old friend alluded to something else entirely.

Balin thought and continued to think that he, Thorin Oakenshield, should be the one to ask for her hand.

***

A week later, Y/N watched as Bilbo climbed down from the cliff top, with night falling on them, and reach the ground. It was dark, the leaves beginning to change as autumn fell upon them, causing the company to grow impatient and nervous at the expected end-date of their journey. Nerves were only worsened by the orc pack following them, too close for comfort, and Bilbo had just finished taking watch on their location.

"How close is the pack?" Dwalin asked, with his voice hushed. She stood next to him, sweating as they had just finished their sparring. He had stopped using Thorin’s sword and started using his axe. Tonight, he had her practice with it, using a two-handed weapon to build her strength. The cold air hitting the dripping sweat made her shiver.

"Too close. A couple of leagues-- no more-- but that is not the worst of it," he replied, looking pale and maybe a bit frustrated. His curly hair was disheveled from his anxious messing, and his fingers danced along the bands of his pockets.

"Heavens," Y/N said, tightening the grip around her cloak. "Did they see you?" 

Bilbo looked at her, eyes wide. "No, no they didn't," he urged. 

"Have the Wargs picked up our scent?" Dwalin questioned, trying to grasp the severity of the situation. 

The Hobbit shook his head, a bit out of breath and frustrated. "Not yet, but they will. We have another problem."

Y/N gasped softly, her voice a bit hoarse. "They did see you!" 

"They saw you!" Gandalf accused, tapping his staff against the ground. 

Bilbo waved him off. "No, that's not it."

She let out a sigh of relief, as the wizard turned to the Dwarves with a smile. "What did I tell you? Quiet as a mouse. Excellent burglar material," he praised. 

The Dwarves nodded and laughed quietly. Y/N rubbed the bridge of her nose, holding her lip in between her teeth. "Oh, this anticipation is doing horrors on my head," she muttered. “What is the fuss about, then?”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and tried to shush them a third time, clearly losing patience with every second. "Will you listen—" they continued, ignoring him. Seeing the distress of her friend, Y/N stomped Dwalin’s axe into the ground, grabbing their attention, before returning it back to its owner. "Will you just listen? I'm trying to tell you there is something else out there!"

At this new information, the company hushed quickly, and grave looks fell upon them all. They looked worried, eyes shifting between themselves, but Gandalf did not seem phased. More... interested? Perhaps angry or curious. "What form did it take?" he asked. "Like a bear?" 

"Ye…Yes..." He looked at Gandalf, confused and strangely. "Y-yes, but... bigger. Much bigger." 

"Gandalf, what is with that look?" Y/N asked, suspicion growing to his behavior. “Do you know something about this creature?”

Bofur stepped closer, to which she held up a hand to stop him from getting too close. The entire company was tired. It was only a matter of when should one of them crack and reveal their cover. "You knew about this beast?" he demanded, waiting for an answer. But Gandalf did not reply and only took leave to the back to look through the line of trees. "I say we double back." 

"And be run down by a pack of orcs," Thorin replied, shutting him down quickly. 

"What else is there to do?" Y/N asked, trying to stop a glare from escaping to her face. “Less our wizard would be gracious enough to tell us the dangers of the beast roaming these lands.”

He looked down at his company, studying the worry on their faces. "There is a house,” he admitted, keeping the identity of the creature close to his chest. “It's not far from here, where we might take refuge."

She raised a brow. "Might?" she questioned. 

"Whose house? Are they friend or foe?" Thorin added, stepping closer.

The sounds of Orc shouting and Warg howling was clearer, the scent trail they were unintentionally leaving leading the enemy closer and closer by the second.

Gandalf bristled his beard. "Neither. He will help us, or he will kill us." 

The Dwarves paled, and Bilbo looked at the wizard horrified. "Why must you always speak in riddles?” she demanded, tightening her belt to prevent it from slipping should they begin to run. “We will never know of who you speak if you do not disclose clearly."

"Do you know who this person is?" Bilbo asked. 

She cocked a brow, as if it was a ridiculous question to offer. "Of course, I don’t, but I doubt whoever it is appreciates uninvited guests." 

"That makes two of us." 

Thorin sighed, frustrations growing from the pressure. "What choice do we have?" he asked, rhetorically. 

Before his question could be answered, a howl from the unknown beast sounded in the distance, growing closer and as if under attack. "None," the wizard replied plainly. 

They bolted from the trees, running through the forest and over the streams. Gandalf led the way, with the rest of the party close behind. The sounds of the Orc pack running behind them grew louder and closer, chasing after their trail, frightening them to move faster than they had imagined. As they leaped over another stream, an earsplitting roar sounded behind them, haunting their movements. 

"Everyone stay close," Y/N urged, noting how the sun was coming up. She could not think of a single time she had ran so much, but it was amazing how the adrenaline in her veins made it so she couldn’t feel the burn in her limbs. One could pose the argument that such an activity so soon after her illness would only plunge her back in. But it was a risk one had to take in such dire situations.

They ran out of the woods, escaping into an open field, and she spotted the little house out in the distance. "To the house!" Gandalf ordered. "Run!" 

They continued to sprint across the field, air trying to access their lungs but to no avail. She took a glance behind her, trying seeing how close the pack was, and a shiver ran up her spine. Rather than seeing a group of Orcs, a much-too-large black beast charged after them, scarred and torn across its chest and shoulders. Bombur took the lead running to the door, expecting it to be open, but planted into it and landed flat on his back. 

The rest of the company caught up to him, as they tried to push the door open with great force. Y/N was pushed towards the back, watching as the beast grew closer, jaws dripping with drool as it snarled.

"Open the door!" Gandalf shouted. 

"Quickly!" Thorin ordered.

Deciding to take matters into her own hands, Y/N quickly climbed the shoulders of the Dwarf closest to her, running across their backs and heads. "Oh, heaven’s sake!” She rushed to stand on the shoulders of Dwalin, who was pushing the door in vain, and lifted the lock beam that held the entrance shut. 

The door caved in, as the beast rushed towards them from the field. The company broke through, ushering everyone inside, and worked together to slam the front back in the creature’s face. "Come on, lads!" Dwalin shouted, as they pushed with all their might. The beast snapped its jaws at them, trying to grab onto anyone one of them, only to have been shut out. The door shut with a slam, and the defeated howl from the monster shouted on the other side of the wall. 

The company let out a breath of fear, perhaps of relief, and sank against the door. "What was that?" Ori demanded, looking up at Gandalf, who was watching in a bit of amusement. 

"That... is our host," he replied. 

The company looked at Y/N, who was hunched over trying to catch her breath. When she noticed their stares, she shook her head. “Well, do not look to me. I have no recollection of ever meeting such a creature.”

"This man is a skin-changer," Gandalf explained. Oin tried to mess with his hearing trumpet, to see if the wizard had spoken correctly. "Sometimes he's a huge black bear, sometimes he's a great strong man. The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with. However, he is not overfond of Dwarves." 

"We did just break into his home," Y/N pointed out, fanning herself. “Oh, heavens, I need to sit.” She fell right where she stood, ripping the cloak off of her shoulders as Dwalin handed her his canteen. “Much thanks.”

The rest of the party didn't seem too pleased at the sound of that and looked at each other in dismay. "He's leaving," Ori pointed out, looking through the cracks of the door. 

"Come away from there! It's not natural; none of it. It's obvious he's under some dark spell," Dori said, ripping Ori away from the door. 

"Don't be a fool, he's under no enchantment but his own," Gandalf said sternly, his voice trying to keep steady. "Alright now." He back away from the group, getting air. "Get some sleep, all of you. You'll be safe here tonight." The company, still a bit nervous, spread out. "I hope…" 

"Gandalf, I’m sure your host will be fine," she assured him, handing Dwalin back his pouch.

"I am more worried about those inside the house."

She laughed, though it was a bit hollow with worries of her own. "We will be okay, as well." 

“If only your confidence translated to your fellowship. I shall see about the place. Perhaps he has some supplies we can request.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, wondering if her wizard was going to launch them into trouble should morning come and possessions of the owner were missing, swiped by the old man. “Keep your hands clean,” she called, as he disappeared down the halls. She made her way to where the Dwarves were setting up, noticing a large armchair unoccupied. She climbed up, curling in between the armrests and laid her cloak over her body like a blanket.

"Good night, Y/N," Bilbo said, as he passed her chair. 

"Good night, Baggins. Dream well." She listened to the Dwarves, as they settled in the hay and about the eerie cottage. She stayed alert for as long as she could, hearing the skin-changer howl a few more times, before falling into a deep slumber. 

Y/N woke up before the sun, as the morning dew had started to collect on the leaves outside. A chilly morning air rushed through the cracks of the house and shook her awake. She yawned, stretching her hands above her head, and jumped down from the chair. She tiptoed over sleeping Dwarves, snoring loudly as large bees flew around.

“Where is that wizard?” she muttered to herself, peaking through doors of the house. One room she peered into held a large bed, to which she presumed was the owners chambers. She pondered on whether he had turned back to Man, and assumed that if he did he would be in need of coverings, especially on such a chilly morning. She pulled open drawers, grabbing trousers first, and noticed how there were no shirts, only vests.

With the folded clothes in her arms, she exited through the front door and out into the foggy field surrounded the farm. In the distance she spotted the bear, roaring at nothing and twisting on itself. Finally, he collapsed to his paws, which began to melt away and a man laid in the beasts place. He huffed, his breath visible and appearing in the air in front of him. He brought himself to his feet, as Y/N continued to move to him, and held a hand to stop her.

“Who are you?” he asked, voice low and dangerous. “Are you Dwarf?”

“I am Y/N, at your service, sir.” She evaded her gaze, realizing that while the grass was tall for her it was not for the large Man. “I am a Halfling.”

“There is more with you.” He said it as fact, not asking for truth. “Why are you in my home?”

“I am with Gandalf the Grey,” she explained, carefully walking to him with her eyes to the ground. “He says he knows you?”

He shook his head, still eyeing her warily. “I do not know that name. Who are you to him? Simply a called upon person?”

“I would more attribute my relationship to something of his apprentice.” She held the clothes out, slowly making way to him. When he did not argue or threaten, she shut her eyes and marched ahead, waiting for him to grab the clothes.

He pulled his trousers on and she opened her eyes. He tied the band to his hips, barely making eye contact. “Forgive me. I am not very trusting of strangers. But, I still feel I should be more respectful to a lady.”

She looked up and gave a soft smile. “Please don’t worry yourself about any of that. I am a stranger, and you’ve a right to whatever reaction you think necessary.” He started to walk back to his home, with her following in tow as quick as she could. “But you are?”

“My name is Beorn,” he replied.

“Right, nice to meet you Master Beorn.”

“Just Beorn will suffice. I am not your Master any more than you are my Halfling. My name will do.”

She nodded, as they made it to the backyard of his home. He grabbed the axe that was by the chopped wood and motioned for her to step back. He lifted it high above his head and brought it down, splitting the logs one by one.

As he worked, the chains on his wrists jingled, and the sight made her queasy. “Are you alright, Beorn?” she asked, carefully trying to allude to his bides.

He looked at his wrists, but made no motion of worry. “I am fine. These… serve as a reminder of my people. My family.”

“I’m sorry,” she offered, taking a seat on a stump. “I never knew my parents, but I cannot imagine it is that you’ve endured.”

He hesitated on a swing, staring straight ahead. “I do miss them. Thank you.”

The sun began to rise and the air warm, but she still found it a bit chilly. “Are you cold?”

“The beast inside keeps me quite warm. But I apologize if you are.”

“Not at all.” She stared at the backdoor and watched as Gandalf and Bilbo rushed out, staring at her confused. “Oh, good morning.”

They muttered to each other, before Gandalf put on a smile and raised his hand to say hello. “Good morning!” he called to Beorn, who continued to chop firewood. She wasn’t sure he even heard them. The skin-changer raised the axe again, almost hitting Gandalf in the process, and brought it down with a shaking force. “Good morning!” the wizard tried again.

Beorn finally paused, holding the handle of the axe as he sighed and glanced behind him. “Who are you?”

“I am Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey,” he introduced with a bow, putting on the sickly sweet smile that he used to trick Elves and other wizards alike.

Beorn turned around, still holding his weapon, and growled. “Never heard of him.”

Gandalf sputtered a bit. “I am a wizard. Perhaps you’ve heard of my colleague Radagast the Brown. He resides in the southern borders of Mirkwood.”

Whether he had heard of the wizard was left unknown, as he quickly asked, “What do you want?”

“Well, as simply as a thank you for your hospitality.” He looked to his apprentice, who swung her feet on her stump and waved. “I see you’ve met Miss Y/N.”

He nodded. “She met me in the field at dawn.”

Gandalf nodded. “Yes, well, I presume you may have noticed we took refuge in your lodgings here, last night.” He pointed behind him as Bilbo popped from his back, watching the exchange.

Beorn tensed when he saw him, holding his axe tighter. “Who is this little fellow?” he demanded, and Y/N suddenly felt unwell.

“Oh, this would be Mister Baggins from the Shire.”

The larger man lifted his axe, bracing himself against the two. “He’s not a Dwarf, is he?”

Bilbo looked as he might be sick.

“Oh no, Beorn!” Y/N piped up, hopping from her seat and walking to him. She placed a hand on his, relaxing his grip on the handle. “He’s like me. He’s a Halfling.”

He softened at her touch, and lowered his axe, as Gandalf patted Bilbo on the back. “He’s a Hobbit! From a good family and an unimpeachable reputation!”

“Two Halflings and a wizard,” he drawled, feeling the words on his tongue. “How come you’re here?”

“Oh, well, the fact is we’ve had a bad time of it. From Goblins in the mountains.”

Beorn scoffed. “What did you go near Goblins for? A stupid thing to do.”

“We were trapped when trying to cross,” Y/N answered, remembering how the floor collapsed around them. “And we were in there trying to escape a giant battle.”

He raised a fuzzy brow, seemingly more upset with the wizard for assumingly putting them in danger than at her for telling him. “That is even more stupid.”

Gandalf waved his hand, trying to keep the peace. “You are absolutely right!” When he spoke, two Dwarves came out of the cottage, startling Beorn who readied his axe to attack.

“Dwalin, Balin,” the former introduced, as the latter waved happily.

Gandalf and Bilbo looked as if they might faint, and Y/N wondered how long they had been awake and standing there. “I-I-I must confess that uh, several of our group are in fact… Dwarves.”

She had never heard him so speechless and nervous, and wondered just how dangerous Beorn was supposed to be. It almost made her worry about how she had gone to see him alone just an hour ago.

“Do you call two ‘several?’” He spoke slowly, shifting from foot to foot as if he was about to attack. If this was how he was acting to two, he certainly wasn’t going to be happy with 13.

“Well, I did put it that way but uh…” He looked down to Bilbo, who remained silent watching the man three times his height with an axe twice his size stare at them. “We have a good more than two.”

He started to count and Oin and Gloin rushed out, bowing as they got in line. “Here’s some more of our happy troop.”

“Do you call six a troop?” He was incredulous now, and she had to admit it looked like an ambush. “What are you, a travelling circus?”

He waved an arm around, and would’ve hit her if she hadn’t ducked. “Beorn, if I could just request you put the axe down.”

“What are you doing bringing this young lady around a band of Dwarves?” he continued to demand of Gandalf, as Ori and Dori walked out.

“At your service!” Dori called.

“I don’t want your service!”

Gandalf held a hand, trying to hold on to what little peace was left. “Absolutely understandable!”

Then out came Fili and Kili.

“Are they just waiting for the worst moment to pop out?” Y/N asked Bilbo, who looked just as exasperated as she was.

“Bofur keeps mistaking Gandalf’s hand gestures for the signal to come out,” he explained, sighing into his hands.

“Oh! Fili and Kili, I quite forgot.” Finally, four more fell down the stairs, quickly straightening themselves in the line. “Yes and uh Nori, Bifur, Bofur… and Bombur.”

Beorn’s eyes filled with fire, but he dropped his axe as requested. “Is that it? Are there anymore?”

And from around the corner, Thorin appeared, wind blowing against his face as he leaned against the house.

Y/N shook her head, looking up to the tall man. “In my defense, Gandalf said he knew you.” She kicked a rock, hands behind her back. “You don’t owe us anything, but may I ask you hear out this old wizard, who has gone senile and forgets who he meets.” She shot a glare at the wizard, who elected to stay silent.

 Beorn took a few deep breaths, letting the axe fall in the dirt. “Very well. Miss Y/N, are you hungry?” The Dwarves began to chatter and he growled at them. “I didn’t ask you!” he barked.

“I could eat,” she offered. “But, is it okay if they have some as well.”

He glared at the line up. “Would that please you?”

“Yes, sir.”

He grunted. “Very well. I will get started.”

The Dwarves sat silently at the table as Beorn filled their cups with milk and set out a plate of bread. They didn't make eye contact and glanced at each other to share uncomfortable looks. The only one who seemed comfortable and even cheery was Y/N, who filled him in on the Orcs and the journey, and was given a book to sit on as to better reach the table (an offer not extended to the rest of the party).

As he stopped behind her seat, he frowned. "I have a cup much more fitting to your stature," he said plainly, removing the large wooden mug from her plate. He returned with a small teacup, carefully holding it between his thumb and finger, and set it down. “How is this?”

"It is wonderful, Beorn." she said, as he filled it with milk. "Thank you kindly." 

He gave the smallest smile, and then continued to frown as he filled the rest of the table.

"How has she already befriended him?" Kili asked, leaning over to his brother Fili. “The man almost charged us with an axe.”

"I have no idea." 

As Bilbo joined them in the room, Beorn filled Fili's rather large mug. "So, you are the one they call Oakenshield," he said, speaking to Thorin. "Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?"

Thorin perked up and eyed his questioner. "You know of Azog? How?"

Y/N raised her eyebrows, quickly glancing between the two, and sipped her drink quietly. She wondered the possibilities on if Thorin was stubborn enough to challenge their host, and if he would die quickly or slowly.

Beorn set down the pitcher, letting it clang against the table. "My people were the first to live in the mountains, before the Orcs came down from the north. The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved."

The table remained silent, sharing looks of discomfort and nervousness.

 "Not for work, you understand," he continued, "but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him."

"Beorn, you don't need to explain yourself to anyone if it pains you so," she said, as his chains sounded louder than ever. "They will understand." 

When she had said 'they' instead of 'we' it made a strange disconnection between the Dwarves and Bilbo, and herself. She hadn't realized it, but it was there. Like they truly were out of their element, and she knew exactly what she was doing. Who she was speaking to was now like an old friend, and to them he was nothing more than a stranger. But her eyes gave away that she had already begun to grow close to him, which made the silence greater and more intense. 

"It is alright, Miss," he replied. "If they enter into my home, they should know their host." 

She quickly shut her mouth and returned to drinking her drink quietly. Should any of the Dwarves offer disrespect or insult, it would be on them. Y/N thought to herself that if they did, after hearing such a story, then it would be most deserved of Beorn to be angry.

"There are others like you?" Bilbo asked, standing off to the side from the table. 

"Once there were many," Beorn answered.

Bilbo looked as if he shouldn't ask what he asked next, but he did anyway. "And now?" 

A heavy silence fell upon the company. "Now, there is only one." 

The company looked on in silence. Y/N placed a gentle hand onto his hand. "I am sorry," she said. "You deserve better, along with your family." 

He placed his large hand over hers, rubbing it. "You are a kind soul, Miss." He let go of her, and she brought it back to her lap. "Y/N has told me you need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn?" he asked, changing the subject. 

Gandalf nodded, clearly eager to continue. "Before Durin's Day falls, yes."

"You are running out of time." 

"Which is why we must go through Mirkwood," the wizard explained. 

Beorn scoffed. "A darkness lies upon that forest. Fell things creep beneath those trees. There is an alliance between the Orcs of Moria and the Necromancer in Dol Guldur. I would not venture there except in great need." 

"We are in great need." Y/N set her cup onto the table. "You have said it yourself; time is running out and going any other way would be too long, for we do not have time to try."

"It is not secure." 

 "We will take the Elven Road," Gandalf suggested. "That path is still safe."

"Safe?" Beorn asked, clearly baffled at what would make him think so. "The Wood-Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They're less wise and more dangerous. But it matters not."

Thorin stood, crossing his arms over his chest. "What do you mean?" he challenged, which made Y/N glare into her milk.

 "These lands are crawling with Orcs. Their numbers are growing, and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive." His grave warning sent the Dwarves into shock, even Thorin, who was determined to stand his ground. Beorn stood up, leaving Y/N's side. He began to walk towards the king, who stood on the opposite side of the room from him. "I don't like Dwarves. They're greedy and blind; blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own. How someone such as Miss Y/N has come to trust you is beyond my reasoning." He quickly picked up a mouse, which scampered across the table and into his large hand. Thorin looked to her at the word of ‘trust’ but she looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. "But Orcs I hate more. What do you need?" 

She let out a sigh of relief, her anger at her leader melting, and smiled. "Ponies, should you have them, will speed our journey." 

Beorn owned the most beautiful ponies, with white milky manes and coco bodies. There were several to be used, and Y/N looked around quietly as all the Dwarves hopped on, sharing with each other. She thought about asking Dwalin if she could ride with him, but he had a large pack and she feared that adding herself would hurt the poor pony. 

“Y/N,” Thorin called, as she whipped her head around. “You can ride with me.”

Her heart skipped, to which she scolded it for doing such a thing. “Are you sure?”

“We need to make haste and if you walk you’ll get left behind.” Before she could open her mouth to protest, he held up a hand. “Everyone else has packs or another with them, and Bilbo can hardly hold himself.”

She couldn’t argue with that. She exhaled sharply and went to his side. He extended a hand that she took and pulled herself over, straddling the pony in between Thorin’s legs. “Do I hold the reins?” she asked.

“Here, let me.” He reached an arm around her waist, pulling her back into him as his other snaked around and held the leather straps in a fist. She blushed feeling his chest against her back, wondering if he could feel her heart race.

He had his own thoughts he tried to quiet, and silently regretted having her so close. He could smell her vanilla hair and feeling her skin against his. It was enough to make him pray that she couldn’t feel the affect she had on him press against her back.

Beorn walked with Gandalf, having finished their hushed conversation. "Go now, while you have the light. The hunters are not far behind," he said to Gandalf, watching him climb onto the provided horse. 

"Thank you, Beorn," Y/N said, about to take off. “We are in your debt.”

"Be careful around these Dwarves," he warned, ignoring that Thorin sat right behind her. "Do not let their greed compromise your safety." 

"I will. Perhaps we shall meet again." 

Beorn smiled. "My hearth will burn as I await your return." 

"Be well, Beorn." And then she rode off after her company.

They rode quickly over miles of hills, approaching a line of trees, and slowly to a stop. The wood was thick, brush preventing from being able to look inside. It did not help that the days were shortening, and it was only time before darkness engulfed them both in night and in the forest.

"The Elven Gates," Gandalf said. He called the company over, motioning for them to join him. "Here lies our path through Mirkwood." 

"No sign of the Orcs. We have luck on our side," Dwalin commented, hopping off of his horse.

"You cannot say such things, sir," Y/N shamed, laughing a bit as she hopped of her pony. Thorin reached out to help her down, but she was off before she could notice. "You shall jinx us." 

Gandalf looked passed them, and she followed his gaze. Beorn was now in bear form, stalking the edges of his property and watching them carefully. "Set the ponies loose. Let them return to their master." The company dismounted from their horses, grabbing their supplies, and lugging it towards the entrance of the forest. 

"This forest feels... sick," Bilbo said, looking into the wood with a careful eye. "As if a disease lies upon it. Is there no other way around?" he asked quickly. 

"Not unless we go 200 miles North," Gandalf replied, stepping lightly into the trees. "Or twice that distance South." He walked passed a stone statue, covered in green moss and ivy, and looked at a covered tree. Bilbo looked after him, his hand in his pocket. 

"A heavy enchantment lies upon these woods," Y/N noticed, catching the attention of Balin. She ran a hand through the air over the aura of the forest. "A magic from older times. I fear that something dark awaits us inside. We should not take what Beorn has said lightly." 

Fili leaned over to his brother. "Have you noticed that she calls everyone 'Master' or 'Mister' or any other title, but calls Beorn by his name only?" 

Kili nodded. "Do you think there's a reason for that?"

“It is because he requested I see him as an equal,” she answered loudly, letting them know she could hear their gossip.

“I have asked you do the same for me,” Kili protested.

“Aye, but I’d rather honor Beorn’s request than yours.”

“You are a cruel woman.”

She laughed, running a hand over her braid. “’Hell hath no fury like a woman’s scorn,’ dear prince.”

Gandalf suddenly bounded out from the trees, looking distraught. "Not my horse!" he shouted at Nori, before he loosened the supplies from the ponies back. "I need it." 

Y/N marched over to him, her face pulling into a scowl. "You're not leaving us, are you? Why on earth are you leaving us?" 

"I would not do this unless I had to, my dear."

"You can leave at the drop of a hat and return before anything has happened. But the moment you say you must, I begin to fear that you shall not return." Her voice cracked on her last few words, and she cleared her throat. "Tell me you will return." 

"I will return, my dear." 

She nodded. "You better. I cannot lose anoth… ahem, I cannot lose you." 

He didn't reply, leaving their promise as their last words. He looked over at Bilbo, who was looking on the exchanged with worry. "You've changed, Bilbo Baggins. You're not the same Hobbit as the one who left the Shire." 

Bilbo fiddled with his fingers, stepping forward. "I was going to tell you, I...found something in the Goblin tunnels." He looked nervous, sweating beads down from his forehead. 

"Found what?" the wizard asked, suspiciously. Bilbo did not reply, fumbling with his pockets, as if not sure where to put his hands. "What did you find?" 

Bilbo looked at Gandalf, for a simple moment, before removing his hands. "My courage." 

Gandalf seemed convince that wasn't all but gave the Hobbit a firm nod. "Good. Well, that's good. You will need it." 

He walked past them, making way to his horse. He stopped in front of Thorin, staring at him very sternly. "I'll be waiting for you at the overlook before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe. Do not enter that mountain without me." He continued to his horse. "This is not the Greenwood of old. The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray." 

"Can you please explain further before you ride off into the sunset?" Y/N asked, as he climbed onto his horse. 

"You must stay on the path, and do not leave it. If you do, you will never find it again." He began to gallop away. "No matter what may come, stay on the path!" he called after, before disappearing behind the curve of trees. 

"The magic I sensed; it must be made to incept the mind. If we lose the path the forest will certainly lead us to a bitter end," Y/N explained, slinging her pack onto her back. “This would be the best time for someone to reveal they are a practitioner of the mystic arts.”

Bilbo scoffed. “If any of us could be, it would surely be you.”

"Come on. We must reach the mountain before the sun sets on Durin's Day," Thorin ordered, leading the way into the forest. 

"Durin's Day," Dwalin confirmed, following his king. "Let's go!" 

She followed. Fiddling with her hands just as Bilbo had done. “I don’t like this one bit. This might be the first time I may suggest we hold hands to stay together.”

Kili turned around, walking backwards into the wood. “I’ll hold your hand!”

“I’d rather risk dying, Prince,” she deadpanned, grabbing onto Dwalin’s sleeve.

The Dwarf’s breath hitched in his throat, but he didn’t say anything to stop her. Instead, he ticked his pinkie up to her hand, letting her grab onto it. “Stay close,” he told her, refusing to turn around.

“I don’t plan on leaving,” she replied, voice uneven as she stepped over the threshold of the forest and onto the sickened path.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven: For Want of Wit

Word Count: 8577 words

Warnings: lots of mention of blood, Thorin being stupid (there is good reason as to why this is a main tag)

 **

The air of the forest was thick, and heavy. It was hard to breath, without feeling like they were inhaling lead and stone. As they walked farther in, their muscles felt tense and heavy, sinking low and making them walk slower. The sun was blocked from the thick canopy top, and the plants on the ground were grey and sickly. Y/N thought back to when she was sick. Her haze dreams of drowning in the blackened sea, and how this was the earthen equivalent.

Her hand found its way into Dwalin’s, fully grasping his palm as he guided her through the path. They marched as they always had, but swayed with every step. Whatever enchantment that lied in the woods was seeping into all their lungs, and already began to take hold.

Suddenly, in the silence of the trees, Bofur spoke up. "Air! I need air!" 

"You are breathing air. Do not mistake it for anything else,” she answered, for him and for herself. If it got into their minds that they weren't breathing, then that would leave to a series of Dwarves holding their breath. 

"My head," Oin moaned, trudging on heavy feet. "It's spinning." Suddenly, the company crashed into one another, and Nori stopped suddenly and blocked the path. "What is happening?"

"Keep moving!" Thorin ordered, pushing the company aside. "Nori, why have we stopped?" 

The Dwarf looked pale as Thorin pushed his way up to him. He pointed numbly outward. "The path. It's disappeared." Before him, the ground had taken a quick and sudden stop, leaving them standing above a cliff. 

"Mercy be given," Y/N mumbled, she pulled her hand back, clutching her chest as the air thinned to almost nothing.

"What's going on?" Dwalin shouted ahead, after hearing her distress and feeling the loss of her touch. 

"We've lost the path!" Oin groaned, twirling around. 

Thorin shoved his way away from the edge, searching the ground. "Find it." The company looked at him numbly. "All of you look. Look for the path!" His anger and worry shook them from their trances, as everyone scuttled to find the brick way. 

Y/N tried to keep her mind clear, reminding her things from her life to help her fight the illusions that were trying to get into her head. However, as the Dwarves wandered around, the world disappeared, and she found herself. A younger version, anyway, standing before her. Her hair was in ribbons and bows, the way the Elves would do it to keep it somewhat manageable, and she wore a blue dress with yellow flowers cascading down the skirt. She looked up at her older counterpart, eyes wide and young. She opened her mouth to speak, but a high-pitched ring erupted from her lips like a siren. 

She gripped her ears to stop the horrifying sound, but how could one stop something that was in one’s head? "You're not real," she whispered. She shook her head, opened her eyes, and found the younger version of her melting in the black tar-like water haunting her dreams, and forming above the puddle was the shadowed figure.

“You are drowning,” it said.

She sniffed, clearing her throat and hardening her face. “No I am not.”

“Not in a literal sense, Halfling. Did those days studying poetry and literature leave you so soon?”

The smoke figure made its way towards her, and she was frozen in place. “You are not real.”

“You don’t even know what I am.” It reached out, wrapping it’s hand-like appendage around her throat, causing her to claw at the grip. She slipped to her knees, falling to the ground in sorrow. “I am not just your fear. I am your downfall.” Then it let her go, freeing her and leaving her to cover the fresh scratches on her skin, reminding her that she was trying to escape from nothing tangible, and something forever with her.

As the figure faded into the breeze, another took its place, falling in front of her. “Y/N, can you hear me?” Thorin asked, holding her face to him.

She tried to stifle her cries, swallowing the lump in her throat. “There was something there,” she said, running a hand over her throat. “Or I-I thought there was. He grabbed me.”

“Who grabbed you?”

She shook her head, trying to get the image out of her mind. “It was… fuzzy. I don’t know, I think—” She stopped herself, finally looking in his eyes and realizing that the dark figure, promising to be her downfall, was him.

Thorin did not push. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her, keeping her close as the Dwarves rushed around themselves. “Stay close to me.”

"Look," Oin said, catching their attention. He held up a small pouch, mostly likely for holding smokes. 

"A tobacco pouch," Dori confirmed. "There's Dwarves in these woods." 

Bofur grabbed it, to examine it closer. "Dwarves from the Blue Mountains, no less. This is exactly the same as mine!"

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "That's because it is yours. You understand? We're going around in circles! We're lost!" 

"We're not lost," Dwalin protested. "We keep heading East." 

"But which way is East?" Oin asked, his voice fading. "We've lost the sun." 

They began to bicker with one another, shouting and pushing against each other out of anger. Or maybe hallucinations making them look like an enemy. "Fighting shall get us nowhere!" Y/N shouted. But it was in vain as they continued to shove anyway. 

“Quiet!” Thorin ordered, as she continued to plead with them to keep sane. The Dwarves ceased their bickering, quickly looking at them.

“This forest is feasting on our weaknesses!” she told them.

“I have no weakness,” Bofur protested.

“This enchantment cannot allow me to even begin with how wrong you are.”

“Are you calling me weak?”

She rolled her eyes, the world beginning to spin. “I am calling you an idiot!”

A whisper sounded through the forest, blowing like an eery wind onto their backs. "Enough! Quiet! All of you! We're being watched!" Thorin shouted, gaining the Dwarves attention. 

She moved away, towards a tree to steady her shaking legs. "The darkness that lies in the forest," Y/N muttered. She looked around, watching her surroundings move in and out of focus. "Crawlers of the dark ages." She saw something along the trees. She touched it, with a single finger, and watched as it stuck to the tip and pulled away with an elastic bounce. "Spiderwebs… Wait, spiderwebs?" In fear, she whipped her head around. "SPIDERS!" she shrieked. 

The eight-legged beast fell from the branches above and began to attack them. The spiders were huge, standing at 6 feet tall with sharp fangs gnashing at them. Y/N tried to draw her sword to fight them, but the magic of the forest had made her limbs numb. The spiders crowded in on them, and it all went dark.

In a blink, Y/N didn't know where she was. It was cramp and sticky. It was difficult—nearly impossible-- to breathe and she couldn't help but panic a bit as she couldn't move. And when she didn't think such a situation could get any worst, she found herself falling and hitting her head on every branch on the way down.

Everything was a bit blurry after that, though she could barely see any light to begin with. She heard sounds of people screaming. Who was screaming? She still couldn't breathe. Or at least it felt like it. If she kept breathing, would she die? She would certainly die if she stopped breathing, so she chose the former. The illusions of the forest were strong, and the panic of her binds were only allowing the magic to infect her mind faster.

Was that the sound of bows being used? Who uses bows again? Was it Kili?

The webs that wrapped around her were cut apart and sweet air was allowed to reach her face. She gasped, lurching forward, and coughing wildly. A hand patted her back, allowing her to inhale fully.

"Are you alright, Miss?"

"Y-yes," she replied, clutching her chest. "Yes, I'm fine, concern yourself with someone who needs it."

"You do need it."

Y/N opened her eyes to see a white-haired Elf, staring at you with concern in his eyes. She was about to say something when a spider shriek interrupted her. The Elf narrowed his eyes and shot the spider quickly and swiftly. "Go, they need you." She coughed some more.

"Don't move." And then he ran away into action.

Sure, stay there. Perhaps I can cover myself in seasonings and roast myself over an open flame. Y/N unsheathed her sword and stood to her shaking feet. She shook her head, knocking the blurriness from her eyes, and walked towards the sounds of people yelling.

Just beyond her sight, there was her company, alongside with Elves, fighting giant spiders. It was a sight to behold. But there wasn't any time. She leapt into action, helping them fight off the giant creatures.

Finally, Kili was brought to an empty area, accompanied by an Elf with red hair.

"Search them!" The order came from the same long blonde-haired Elf. He stood tall above them all and looked down at them in disgust.

The Elves rushed to grab their things, including their weapons. As an Elf walked over to Y/N, she raised a brow. These must by the kin of those in Rivendell. Beorn was right. They are much less welcoming. "/Do not touch me/,” she ordered, speaking Elvish as she handed over her sword and her backpack. "/I was almost a spider’s meal, so surely you can respect this request/."

The Elf looked at her, as if to see if she was jesting, and laughed nervously. "You're no Dwarf, are you?"

"No, I am not. I’m a Hobbit."

The Elf’s eyes widened. "So far from the Shire?”

“I have been raised by the guardianship of Gandalf the Grey, Lord Elrond, and Lady Galadriel.” She spoke with such a conviction and confidence that she noticed as the Elf began to sweat and back away.

"Who is this?" the leader Elf asked, holding Gloin's pocket frames off to the side. "Your brother?"

"That is my wife!" Gloin replied, angry.

The Elf didn't apologize. Instead, he raised a brow, as if he didn’t believe him. "And what is this horrid creature? A Goblin mutant?"

"That's my wee lad, Gimli."

Y/N turned her attention to Fili, who was shrugging as the Elf searching him who held multiple knives. The Elf reached behind his back and pulled out another. "I thought I told you not to buy another dagger in that town!" Y/N exclaimed, gaining laughs from the others.

The leader Elf looked to the red haired Elf. "/Is the nest close by?/" he asked.

"No," Y/N muttered. She thought she had said it quietly, but the leader Elf turned to her. He raised a brow. "The spiders are here because of a magical lure that lies upon the woods," she explained. "And this isn't the spider’s natural home, so the nest would not lie here."

"You speak Elvish?" he asked, missing what she had said.

The Dwarves looked at her, making her sigh. “Yes, much to my company’s dismay.”

The Elf looked a bit impressed. Another Elf handed him Orcrist. He unsheathed it and looked at it with great interest. He pulled it out of its container, examining the carvings along the blade. "Where did you get this?" he asked Thorin.

"It was given to me."

The Elf quickly pointed the sword at Thorin's face, inches away. "Not just a thief, but a liar as well." He scowled down at them, before turning to his attention to his fellow elves. "/Bring them with us!/"

"Oh, gods."

The Elves usher them to move, following them as they lead the way out of the forest.

"Thorin," Bofur whispered. "Where's Bilbo?"

"Oh, not again." She looked around, light panic in her chest, and saw no sign of her friend.

"What has brought you into the company of Dwarves?" the leader elf asked, as she stood next to him.

"I don't think Oakenshield would be too pleased if I revealed that," she replied. “Besides, many do not deem it wise to reveal such purposes to those unintroduced.”

The Elf laughed. "Excuse my rudeness. I am Legolas Greenleaf."

"Y/N, Mister Greenleaf."

Legolas laughed again. “Such callousness of a young lady.”

“Well, one cannot be too crude to one’s captor. /Besides, as an Elf living hundreds of years, surely you are use to a sharp tongue by now./”

“/I am a prince. No one speaks to me the way you are./” She scoffed, laughing as he looked to her confused. “What?”

“Not to your face, perhaps.”

Suddenly, Bofur and Fili were at her sides, pushing Legolas farther away. "Excuse me, you gigantic arse," Bofur said, causing Fili to laugh. "But would you please step away from her?"

"And while you're at it," Fili continued. "I would be happy to let you know where you can stick your arrows."

"You should hold your tongue before I remove it from your mouth!" Legolas hissed.

They continued to bicker, and instead of dealing with it, she slunk back and let them fight it out.

They were quickly thrown into prison cells, as they entered the kingdom, with the exception of Y/N and Thorin.

"Why them?" Kili demanded, being thrown into the stone cell.

"I don't have to tell you anything."

"Stay silent, Kili," Y/N urged, as she was escorted passed him. "I can't help you if you're behind bars."

He smiled, a bit of a dumb look on his face. “You said my name.”

“I shall never say it again if you worsen our sentence.”

As they were taken away, much to the protest of the rest of the company, Y/N tried to look on the brighter side. There was bound to be a deal. A compromise that they could use to get out and make it to the mountain before Durin's Day. But Thorin did not look as hopeful or wanting. His face was dark and murderous, looking around the halls with a deep disgust.

“Do not trust them,” he whispered to her.

“Such an order comes from an implication that I would ever put trust in our guards,” she responded, slightly annoyed.

“I am serious.”

“As am I.”

They were brought before a throne, made up of constructed branches growing from the ground, and resting under a deep cavern beneath sunlight. Standing there, slowly turning to face them, was the ruler of the Elves of Mirkwood. King Thranduil. He had long white hair, with a tall, elegant crown constructed of branches and different jewels. He wore a white robe, stretching down his long body, with a tail of fabric follow him.

Y/N bowed, attempting to show a bit of respect, much to the displeasure of Thorin.

“I thought you did not trust them.” he hissed.

“And I thought you wanted to reach the mountain!” she hissed back.

"You need not bow before me, Traveling Hobbit," the king said. "But I must ask why a young maiden, as yourself, has found business traveling with a band of Dwarves?"

"You will not speak to her," Thorin spat, shocking her in the fact he would offer his defense.

"Oakenshield, contain yourself. We are at their mercy."

"Yes, Oakenshield. Listen to her."

Thorin seemed to growl at the king as he stood there, looking up at him. She quickly straightened herself, holding an arm out to stop him from potentially moving forward. “This is a battle not worth fighting," she urged.

Thorin continued to glare but let out a pent up breath of air. "Very well. But her purpose with us is none of your concern."

"Some may imagine that such a secret would imply a noble quest is at hand," Thranduil said, pacing over to them. "A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive. Attempted burglary, or something of that ilk."

"We are no thieves. We are looking to regain homeland," Y/N protested.

"But not your homeland, I presume?"

She looked down at her feet, balling her fists behind her back. "No, not my own."

"You have found a way in," the king continued, addressing Thorin and circling towards him like a vulture. "You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule. The King's Jewel; the Arkenstone. It is precious to you beyond measure. I understand that. There are gems in the mountain that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight. I offer you my help."

"Thank you. That means so much--" Thorin held up a hand to stop her from speaking.

"I am listening."

Oh thank the stars.

"I will let you go, if you but return what is mine," the king explained simply.

It seemed like a very reasonable request. "A favor for a favor." Thorin confirmed, pacing in front of the Elven king and Y/N.

"You have my word," he said, giving a small bow. "From one king to another."

Thorin paused. He turned his face, his eyes filled with a burning fire of hate, but a calm smile on his lips. "I would not trust Thranduil, the great king, to honor his word should the end of all days be upon us!"

Y/N's face paled. "Oakenshield, stop it!" She stepped in front of him, trying to stop him, but he pushed her away.

"You lack all honor!" he shouted, pounding a fist against his chest. "I've seen how you treat your friends. We came to you once… starving… homeless… seeking your help, but you turned your back." His words were dripping with venom and he spat each one. "You turned away from the suffering of my people and the inferno that destroyed us! Imrid amrad ursul!"

Thranduil marched over to Thorin, and held his face inches away from the latter. "Do not talk to me of dragon fire! I know its wrath and ruin.” His face began to reveal burns and flesh torn away, his teeth visible through his cheek and a white, dead eye. It looked painful to muster and show, but he continued anyway. “I have faced the great serpents of the north." As he pulled back his face hid itself once more.

"He didn't mean it, King Thranduil. He knows not who he speaks to--"

"I know exactly who I speak to!" Thorin shouted, causing her to reel back.

"I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon, but he would not listen," he said, beginning to walk back up to his throne. "You are just like him." He waved his hand, and guards grabbed them and began to pull them away. "Stay here if you will, and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an Elf. I am patient. I can wait."

They were thrown into their cells, together much to her anger. The jailer walked away, after locking the doors, and left them alone.

"Did he offer you a deal?" Balin asked Thorin.

"He did. I told him he could go Ish kakhfê ai'd dur rugnu! Him and all his kin!"

The Dwarves groaned, realizing they would not see the king’s mercy anytime soon. "Well...that's it, then. A deal was our only hope."

Y/N looked through the bars, thinking back to Bilbo, who had escaped, hoping that he would show up to free them. But she could only hope so much, as her own anger was building. “You’ve some nerve, Oakenshield."

“What?” he demanded, his voice just as dark as it was when speaking to Thranduil.

“You speak so lowly to me of my emotions,” she started, holding onto the steel doors. “You say that I cannot control them, and I should not journey with you because of them. But here we are. Days away from our end and you butcher our one chance at leaving.”

“I do not give my word to those who don’t deserve it.”

“You lie.”

Thorin pounded his fist against the bar. “Do not speak such slander—”

“You lie because you gave your word to me!” she shouted, completely boiling over. She turned to him, closing the space between them and pushing her face to his. “You gave it to me and all you’ve done is tell me about how I do not deserve a place among this company. I have given you my word. My servitude, my comfort, my sleep, and my loyalty. And as payment we are in prison, Thorin. We are in prison, and we will die here.”

She backed away, watching as the Dwarf shrunk slightly into himself. “I will not live to the hundred years it will take to kill you. So when my wizard buries me, tell him how you did nothing to stop it. And when I haunt your remaining days, you will find no forgiveness.”

Silence fell upon them, as they sunk low into their cells and waited as the sun fell low and the stars poked out into a sky they may never see again. Thorin said nothing, for even a proud man can be brought to shame by such an act of wrath.

After hours of doing nothing, Ori tapped his finger against the stone. “Miss Y/N?” he called, softly.

“Yes, Ori?”

“Can you sing for us?”

She smiled. Such a genuine and innocent request. She wondered if he had a mother waiting for him back home, or a family member that would sing to offer comfort in his times of distress. “I wouldn’t want to disturb the rest of the Dwarves.”

“Please. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

She sighed, running a hand over her knee as she leaned her head back against the cold walls. “Very well…”

She began to sing a departing tune, her song rang up into the party that was being thrown, causing the Elves to stop and listen to her song. It was... enticing. Legolas even poked his head down at the cells, watching her as her song left her lips. Thranduil heard her song from his throne, lifting his head to hear her better. The Dwarves listened to her, letting her sing most of their worries away and offer comfort. Her voice had a soft power, that caught the attention of most of the people inside of Mirkwood. She leaned against the wall, letting the world tick by, and waited.

"I wager the sun’s on the rise. It must be nearly dawn," Bofur commented, as the restless company members nodded. He said 'wager' as if to have someone challenge him and bet against him, but the dwarves were too sad to try to play along.

"We're never going to reach the mountain, are we?" Ori asked, sadly looking out the bars.

"Not locked in here, you're not." Bilbo.

"Bilbo!" the Dwarves exclaimed, happiness setting into all of their hearts.

The Hobbit quickly shushed them, beginning to unlock the doors. "Shh! There are guards nearby!" he whispered, scowling at them.

He walked up the steps to see Y/N's face through the bars. Her bright smile was on her face, as she clutched the bars with happiness. "Thank goodness you're alright," she whispered to him. “Ways of the Shire?”

Bilbo smiled back. "Ways of the Shire. Now let's get you out of here." He placed the key into the lock, turning it with a satisfying click, and opened it.

She walked out of the cell, trying to duck out of view from the nearby staircases, and began to follow the hurrying Dwarves. They began walking up the stairs, desperate to get up and out, but Bilbo quickly stopped them. "Not that way," he hissed. "Down here, follow me." He led the way down the stairs, giving orders as to which staircases to follow and which to avoid.

They reached a bottom room, where a few Elves slept in a drunken nap on a table. Looking around, at the many barrels of both fresh water and wine, the Dwarves began to panic and become frustrated. "I don't believe it!" Kili said, outraged. "We're in the cellars."

Bofur, surprisingly, was also mad. "You were supposed to be leading us out, not further in!"

"I know what I'm doing!" Bilbo protested. He walked over to a stack of barrels, lying in the middle of the room, empty and open. "Everyone, climb in the barrels, and quickly."

"Are you mad?" Dwalin demanded. "They'll find us!"

"No-no, they won't, I promise you. Please-please, you MUST trust me!" Bilbo looked frantically at them, in fear the guards would turn into the room at any moment.

"I believe you," Y/N stated, and climbed inside one of the bottom barrels without another word.

Thorin watched as his party looked to him, wondering if they should agree with the Hobbit that had just yelled at him so terribly earlier. "Do as he says," he agreed.

The Dwarves grumbled at how idiotic they thought this plan was but made no further objections. They climbed inside the barrels, as Bilbo counted each Dwarf to make sure they were all there.

"What do we do now?" Bofur questioned, as the Dwarves stuck their heads out to see their burglar.

Bilbo sucked in a quick breath, grabbing a lever that was nearby. "Hold your breath."

"Hold my what?" As Y/N asked this, the floor beneath them shifted and they all began to roll down. They screamed, some yelling words and profanities, as the plummeted into freezing waters.

Y/N felt water rush into her barrel, quickly soaking her clothing and flattening her hair. She jumped up, sputtering out water, and coughed. The river laid under Mirkwood, with a cave surrounding them. Shivers rushed up her spine as she stood up in the barrel, her knuckles white as she clutched to the rim of the barrel.

The Dwarves and Y/N held on to the sides of the cave, stopping their barrels from moving.

"We have to wait for Bilbo," Y/N said, refusing to let go of the rock wall. As she said this, the trap door opened once more and Bilbo fell down, sliding across the wood and hitting the water. He surfaced, gasping for breath, and latched onto Nori's barrel.

Thorin smiled as he saw Bilbo, releasing his grip on the cave. "Well, there he is Miss Y/N." He grabbed onto her barrel, pulling it in front of him. "Well done, Master Baggins." 

Bilbo, sputtering water out like a fountain, emerged from the water and gave a thumbs up. 

"Yes, thank you, Baggins," Y/N added, lending her hand to allow Bilbo to hold onto the rings of her barrel.

"Yes yes, well there were no issues here." He clasped her wrist and pulled himself through the onslaught of clattering Dwarves and freezing water. "Why is this so cold!?" 

She laughed, sounding like wind chimes, and turned her head in front of her. Her face sunk a bit. "We are reaching winter. But it is about to get much colder."

"Waterfall?" 

"Yep," Y/N replied, holding tight to the edge of the barrel. 

Down the waterfall they went, cold river water pouring into the barrels. Y/N was at least grateful she couldn't get any more soaked on the ride. Bilbo looked like he was a cat thrown out into the rain. She could swear his hair was standing on edge. She used one hand to pat down her clothes, making sure she still had her money and water strapped to her waist. Even though it still remained at her side, she knew the river wasn't doing much to help it.

"/Shut the gates!/" Legolas shouted. 

Y/N turned to see the Elf running after them, being followed by many, many guards. "They're going to shut the gates!" she shouted, alerting Thorin. 

Thorin turned around, and saw the river gates, lying underneath a bridge, be closed by the Elves watching guard on top. "No!" he yelled, bracing himself against the bars. The rest of the others push into each other, piling up at the end of the river. 

She watched as the Elves drew their swords and bows, pointing at them. Legolas ran up, near her on the shore. "Miss Y/N; surrender. You do not belong with these Dwarves. You are not like them." He held out a hand, waiting for her to reach for it. When she made no effort to take it, he urged her further. “We can return you to Lady Galadriel.”

"Don't you speak to her, you snake!" Kili hissed. "She has more loyalty than you will ever know."

She could see the sadness in Legolas' eyes. "And that will be her downfall." He drew his bow, ready to point an arrow at her.

As he readied the quiver, one of his guards fell into the water, with a low grunt. Thorin pulled an arrow from his back, examining it. "Black arrows?" Y/N muttered. 

"Watch out! Those are Orcs!" As Bofur shouted to both the Dwarves an Elves, grey skinned orcs swarmed them, shooting poisoned arrows and swinging iron swords. "Someone open the gate! We are literally fish in barrels!" 

Kili heard her and leapt from his barrel. He reached shore and began to climb the stair, making his way towards the lever, fighting off orcs as they charged him.

One Orc jumped to Bilbo, and he raised his sword to stab him off. He splashed into the water, and another jumped to Dwalin, who managed to elbow him off. If the Orcs had prominent noses, Y/N was sure it was be broken. One charged to her, and she locked her hands on the sides of the barrel, and lifted herself out. She kicked her feet at the Orc, pushing against his chest, and sending him flying back and onto an Elf’s blade.

Bilbo, who had witness it, nodded. "Nice shot."

Y/N turned and smiled. She looked up, and saw Kili throw a dagger at an Orc, before throwing another over the bridge and down the river. "Way to go, Kili!" 

He looked down and smiled, when an arrow hit his leg. Y/N gasped loudly, as Kili staggered. 

"Kili!" Fili shouted. 

Kili began to pant, taking quick and shallow breaths, before falling onto his back. 

"NO!" Y/N shouted. 

The Orc who fired the arrow made his way over to him and raised another arrow to his face. A white arrow was then shot through the Orcs body, and he fell down, dead. Y/N turned to see Tauriel running from the bushes, fighting the orcs with much strength and vigor. Kili noticed her and lifted himself to grab the lever. He used his strength, weakened by his wound, and managed to pull it down. The gates creaked open, and the barrels began to move down the river, and away from the orcs. 

"Kili! Get in a barrel!" Y/N shouted to him. 

Hearing her voice, Kili managed to roll off the edge of the bridge and fall back into an empty barrel. As he fell in, the arrow snapped from his leg, and flung out of sight. 

"Are you okay?" she asked him. 

"I'm fine." 

"When we get away, I'll take a look at--" she was stopped mid-sentence when a large branch was thrown at her head. It impacted with a crack, and she soon saw black stars fill her vision. 

"Y/N!" Kili shouted, as she collapsed inside her barrel.

"Y/N! Y/N! Can you hear me?"

She gasped loudly, coughing up river water. Her head was too dizzy and heavy to have the ability to feel embarrassed by it. The dull and persistent pain on the back of her head was drumming as the blood rushed to clot it. She turned to her side and convulsed as more water came up. A hand was patting her back as she choked to gain enough air. "Thank goodness," Bofur said, rubbing between her shoulder blades. "Any longer and we might've assumed the worse."

"Where are we?" she rasped, sitting up fully. She lightly touched her hair and saw faint traces of blood trailing down them.

"We've stopped for a moment. We hit a lull in the river."

He was right. She and the company laid on the stone of a sharp riverbank, with water still journeying out to the lake. Luckily, this is exactly where they needed to go.

"And we have... some damaged members."

She turned to him. "Who?" she questioned, suddenly aware of the state they were in.

He said nothing, perhaps afraid to speak, but she followed his gaze and turned to see Kili sat near the river, clutching his upper thigh. Blood was leaking from his wound, blackened and thick as it flowed down his calf.

"Stars!" she exclaimed, standing to rush to him. Perhaps it was the concussion or the intake of water, but her movements were sloppy and clumsy, as she wobbled and fell trying to approach him.

"Y/N you're not well!" Bofur cried, marching after her.

"Let me see your leg," she ordered Kili, ignoring Bofur.

"It's fine," he replied, trying to ignore it.

"That wasn’t my question," she insisted. "All wound needs examining."

"I'll be fine—"

"Kili, I have already decided to be kind to those who need my assistance, but in gods' names if you continue this chauvinistic attitude, I will pin you to the ground and pull your trousers down myself!" she shouted. She wondered if the concussion was causing her mental filter to fail, but it certainly didn't stop the onlook of the fellow party members. "Now if you wish to avoid that I would suggest you stop with the stoic act and show me where you've been shot."

He stared at her, wide eyed, which wasn't surprising due to her aggressive tone. But, without further fight, he turned his leg to show the bleeding wound. She nodded, approvingly, and knelt down to examine further. Gingerly, she placed her hands on either side of the puncture, pulling apart the fabric until it ripped enough to expose fully.

As far as wounds went, having seen her fair share of them, this was not out of the ordinary. An arrow wound was usually a clean slice, and the blood would flow evenly. However, perhaps it had to do with the arrow shape or, worse, what the arrow was laced with, but the blood came out clotted, and dark. The wound had begun to spread in lightning patterns across the skin. It seemed to crackle and splinter off.

"Heavens, Kili. I think you've been poisoned," she told him, grabbing to cloth he was using to ring it out. "We need to do something. I'm not sure what kind of poison but I think if I can suck out most of it--"

"If it's really poison you'll die trying," he protested. He pulled down the top of the rip to cover his wound, as if he had decided and closed the discussion.

"You need to get some of it out before we can see what kind it is." But he had already began to stand, ignoring her as best he could. "Hey, listen to me. You could die!"

Kili looked down at her, as she rung the cloth tightly around her fingers. She was sure she was able to keep the fear deep down inside, but something must've leaked from her expression because Kili's own face softened as he extended his hand to her. "I'm fine, Y/N. We can't stop here."

She huffed, knowing she was both right and wrong, and accepted his hand.

"On your feet," Thorin ordered, already shuffling across the shore.

"Kili's wounded!" Fili shouted to his uncle. "His leg needs binding."

Kili gave a look; one that said, 'You dirty snitch.'

"There's an Orc pack on our tail," Thorin insisted, sounding less than pleased at... any of the issues the party was experiencing. "We keep moving."

"To where?" Balin asked, sounding rather upset with Thorin's tone.

Bilbo was shivering, as to be expected. Winter was almost upon them, and the river was beginning to chill. "To the mountain," he said, sounding a bit desperate. "We're so close."

"We're close, but with no weapons, food, clothing, medicine, and a way across the lake," she said, ringing her hair out. "We need a plan."

"Then we go around," Bilbo offered, seeming the most motivated to reach the mountain as he has looked the whole journey.

Dwalin scoffed. "The Orcs will run us down as sure as daylight. As Miss Y/N said, we've no weapons to defend ourselves."

Thorin stared out towards the water, quietly contemplating the very limited options they had. "Bind his leg," he told Fili, who had taken a stance next to his brother. "You have two minutes." Neither willing to go against their uncle, Fili knelt and began to tie above the wound, to cut off blood flow, and just over the wound, to prevent any further infection.

She saw that his brother had it covered, and went to the bank to join Ori, who was emptying his shoes of water. She sat next to him, and cupped water into her hands to wash the back of her head. Ori was about to ask if she were okay, but she flash a quick smile to cover her winces, and he stayed quiet. She went to turn her back to the river, in hopes to wash the blood away easier. As she turned, she saw the point of an arrow aimed right at her forehead.

Kili looked up from his brother and saw the strange man with a weapon aimed at the Hobbit. He grabbed the dagger in his belt, only to have the man react quickly, and shoot the blade from his hand.

"Do it again, and you're dead." The man equipped another arrow and returned the end to point at Y/N.

“This would be the most shameful way to die,” she whispered to herself, glaring up at the man.

Balin stood up, holding his hands up in surrender, and took one step forward. "Excuse me, but um...you're from Lake-town, if I'm not mistaken?" The man said nothing, but Balin had already deduced that he was right. "That barge over there," he pointed to the mouth of the river, "it wouldn't be available for hire by any chance?" As Balin tried to negotiate, Y/N’s foot slipped on the bend, and she fell backwards into the river.

"Miss Y/N!" Ori shouted. He went to help her, only to have the man point the arrow at him.

"Can she swim?" he asked, showing little to no concern.

Ori shrugged, realizing the entire time they all were in the river she had been in a barrel, floating unconscious. She coughed as she surfaced, doggy-paddling to the shore and grabbing onto the rock. "Barely," she called, spitting out more river water. The man raised a brow at her, slightly easing on his quiver. "Oh no, but don't mind me, sir. Balin, feel free to continue," said her, sarcastically. She struggled to flop onto the bank but managed to land on her back and take in a few breaths.

Deciding she was no threat at the moment, the man looked down at his vessel, and eyed the rest of the company. "What makes you think I would help you?" he asked.

"Those boots have seen better days, as has that coat." Balin walked closer, and the man lowered his weapon. The huntsman listened, but not very well, as he took the barrels they had floated in and placed them in his boat. Free barrels must've been a hard thing to come by. Seeing his lack of interest, the Dawrf tried again. "No doubt you have some hungry mouths to feed? How many bairns?"

The man finally looked to him, seemingly trying to figure you all out. "A boy and two girls," he replied, shifting the barrels to fit better.

"And your wife, I imagine, she's a beauty?"

The man's expression softened, and he nodded, grimly. "Aye, she was."

The past tense hung in the air and caused the whole party to quiet.

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," she apologized, bowing her head in respect.

Dwalin pushed forward, rolling his eyes. "Oh, come on, come on. Enough with the niceties."

"That attitude isn't going to get us anywhere," she scolded, and the brazen Dwarf quieted himself. “It’s what got us in this position in the first place.” She shot a look to Thorin, who turned away just as their eyes met.

The man smirked a bit, at the sight of a fearsome Dwarves looking seldom from the words of a Hobbit. "What's your hurry?"

"What's it to you?"

She elbowed his side and raised her brows. "We are in no position to be making such remarks."

"I would like to know who you are, and what you were doing in these lands."

She went to open her mouth, but Balin stepped in front of her, quickly taking the lead once more. "We are simple merchants from the Blue Mountains, journeying to see our kin in the Iron Hills."

She thought the lie was rather ridiculous. Two of the company members were very clearly not Dwarves, but perhaps the man did not know the difference.

"Simple merchants, you say?" He looked at her, clearly seeing that she were out of place of the lie.

Thorin stepped forward, trying to find his way to being the leader once more. "We need food, supplies, weapons. Can you help us?"

"Anything you have to offer would be much appreciated," she added, remembering bitterly what happened last time Thorin tried to make a deal with someone in a time of distress.

He looked to her, eyeing her up and down, and sighed. "I know where these barrels came from," he told her, running his hand along the iron rim.

Thorin's expression darkened. "What of it?"

The man hopped into his boat and began to gather the rope that hung over the side. " I don't know what business you had with the Elves, but I don't think it ended well." He tapped the side of a barrel which had arrow scuffs along the wood, and harsh indents from axes. "No one enters Lake-town but by leave of the master. All his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland realm. He would see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil."

"A rather reasonable thing," she muttered to Dwalin, who chuckled towards the ground.

The man threw one of the ropes he is working with to Balin, who began to help in hopes of working towards his good side. "I'll wager there are ways to enter that town unseen."

"Aye," the man agreed. "But for that you would need a smuggler."

"And you're not one?" she asked, stepping forward, ignoring Thorin’s glares. "An honest and good man is not always one of the law."

The man considered what she said, but Balin added, "We'd pay double to be smuggled."

This peaked the man’s interest. He considered the offer, staring at the barrels now on his barge, and nodded. “Everyone get in. But if you haven’t got the coin I’m not turning around to bring you back to dry land.”

The company grumbled, but Y/N was most annoyed with them than the man. She was cold, aching, and tired. The last thing she wanted to do was break up another fight when Orcs and Elves were hot on their trail. “Perfectly reasonable. Everyone in the boat.”

Bofur eyed her. “Are you sure—”

She pointed a finger at his chest, and it felt like a knife to his throat. “I have yelled at two Dwarves already, Bofur, so get in the boat before I make it three.”

The man watched the exchange and turned to Thorin. “Is she always this way?”

“I’ve seen worse.”

The farther into the lake they travelled, the thicker the mist became, falling onto the surface of the water. The frozen breeze that came from the mountain began to set in, as it was only a few more days until winters arrival. The lake started to allow the floating bits of ice journey towards the hull and knock against the wood. Bard, the man from before, was standing with a steering stick in his large hands. Through the fog a large rock from the water emerged and nearly impacted against the barge. "Watch out!" Bofur cried, but Bard skillfully maneuvered around it, and continued without worry.

"What are you trying to do? Drown us?" Thorin demanded, watching as more and more large rocks appeared.

"I was born and bred on these waters, Master Dwarf. If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here."

Y/N weren't very skilled in drowning people, but this seemed like the perfect spot to "accidentally" crash a boat and strand 15 people.

Dwalin sat in between Bilbo and her, which the former scoffed at. "Oh, I've had enough of this lippy lake-man," he grumbled, shifting. "I say we throw him over the side and be done with him."

"Oh, hush yourself!" she urged. "Why can't you be grateful for safe passage?"

"Because this Man is making it difficult."

"Oh, Bard," huffed Bilbo, who ruffled quite annoyed. "He's named Bard." He shifted in a way that suggested he was more willing to follow Bard than the Dwarves.

"How do you know?" Dwalin asked, sounding suspicious.

"Because I asked him!"

Dwalin grumbled, glaring daggers into the back of Bard. "I don't care what he calls himself. I don't like him."

She placed a hand on his knee, turning to look at the man as he steered past rubble. "No one is asking you to like him," she told him. She looked up to him, and gave as much of a soft and patient smile as she could manage in face of such stubbornness, aware that trust was not something that came easy to these Dwarves. "We just need to show gratitude for his passage. That is all."

Balin reached into his trouser pockets and pulled out a few gold coins. "We also have to pay him." The other Dwarves groaned and began to shuffle. "Come on, lads. Turn out your pockets."

She removed her hand from Dwalin’s knee and scooted away to reach into her pouch comfortably. "How do we know he won't betray us?" he asked, no one in particular.

"We don't." Thorin threw a few coins to Balin, who caught them easily.

She handed in some of hers, knowing she still had a small handful left. As Balin counted, She stood up and moved her way carefully, to stand next to Bard at the helm. "Forgive my party," she told him, giving a half smile. "Distrusting bunch that they are. I wouldn't hold it against them."

"Well, the feelings are mutual," he replied, with a bit of humor behind his words.

"Well, we can't all be trusting in the first moments. You did almost shoot me."

He chuckled, slightly more embarrassed. "I do apologize for that."

She shrugged. "I suppose it's alright. I’m not very happy about it, but I suppose in a similar situation I too would be cautious." She watched the floating ice pass them by, and how he steered around them. “It seems autumn passed us by before I had a chance to notice.”

The chilly wind rolled through, sending a shiver up her spine. Bard looked at her through the corner of his eye. "Cold?" he asked.

"A bit. I did fall into that river again. I'm still not very dry."

"Miss Y/N, we have a wee problem," Balin called, holding his hand up. She made her way over, rubbing her hands over her arms. "We're ten coins short."

Thorin watched as she were about to reach into her pouch, and held a hand out to stop her. "Gloin, come on. Give us what you have."

Gloin looked rather offended, raising his brows high. "Don't look to me. I have been bled dry by this venture! What have I seen for my investment? Naught but misery and grief and..."

"It's okay, Gloin. I've got it." She pulled the last of her coins from her bag, and tossed them to Balin.

As the other Dwarves elbowed their member, through the mist the top of the Lonely Mountain peaked through. The grey clouds covered the bright sunlight, but the image of the mountain was not mistaken. A hush fell over the entire ship, watching as the end of the quest was closer than they all thought.

Bard turned to walk to them, in a quick brisk that was worrying.

Bilbo cleared his throat, and the Dwarves quieted and looked up.

"The money," Bard said, holding his hand out. "Quick, give it to me."

Thorin put a hand to Balin's chest, as he began to hand over the payment. "We will pay you when we get our provisions, but not before."

Bard tilted his head, with an annoyed expression on his face. "If you value your freedom, you'll do as I say. There are guards ahead."

She rushed back to her company, standing next to the barrels. "Give it to him, and worry about getting rich later," she ordered, the last of her patience wearing thin. She turned up to Bard. "What do we do to hide?"

Now, hiding in barrels wasn't what she had in mind, but she hadn’t imagined a better plan. The one and only concern she had about the situation was the gaping hole on the top, that should a single person think to look in the barrels they would be immediately discovered.

"What's he doing?" Dwalin asked, from his sightless barrel.

"He's talking to someone," Bilbo replied. "He's pointing right at us. Now they're shaking hands."

"Is he betraying us already?" she questioned aloud. “That was quite quick. I at least thought he’d be smart enough to wait until we entered town.”

Suddenly, large fish were dropped onto her head. It took a great deal of strength and will to not scream from the smell and the weight of them. The air was cut off considerably, and she were compressed into the bottom of the barrel, but she was covered. Just as promised. The next half hour or so that passed was blurry. It was hard to hear through the barrels and thick layer of fish. But she could feel the soft rock of the boat. The halts when the ship came still and the slight jolt when it returned to motion.

Finally, she was tipped from her spot and spilt onto the floor of the ship. She coughed to breathe in fresh air. Well, fresher air than the fish. It was musky and thick, with the cold sent sending her nose into a frozen shock. "I hate fish," she said, as Bofur and Fili helped her up.

Bard moved to a man who watched strangely as they climbed and made way to the docks. He held out his hand and Bard placed a single coin in it. "You didn't see them; they were never here." When the man's expression didn't change, Bard gestured with his head to the barrels. "The fish you can have for nothing." The offer of free food must've been enough, because the man turned the other way and let them all pass. Bard made a motion. "Follow me," he said.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve: Lonely in This Home

Word Count: 8,453 words

Warnings: First ever swear word in here, Thorin becomes aware than he is an idiot

The way to sneak in Bard's house was rather resourceful, as he really had seemed to know everyone. After his son had intercepted their path, to warn them of the watchers, he knew exactly what to do. While Y/N had no problem doing what needed to be done for the good of the party, jumping in a frozen lake to climb back out through a toilet wasn't what she had in mind.

Dwalin hopped in first, holding onto the edge of the dock to wait for everyone else. "Come on, lads. Nothing we haven't done before." 

  "Really?" Y/N asked, sitting on the edge to prepare to jump in. 

  Balin laughed. "He means the water, lass."

  "My question still stands." 

  She let her feet dip in the cold and decided that maybe it wasn't as bad as it seemed. But then the water actually seeped through her shoes, and she realized it was much, much worse. Biting her tongue, she scooted off. One of the first things that happens when a warm body hits the freezing temps of water, is that a shock and almost burn will set in on the skin. Then, the freeze will set deeper into the fat and muscles of the body, causing them to seize and almost become immobile. If left cold too long, even out of the water, the body will begin to freeze, bruise, and even fall off. 

  Y/N hit the water, with a quiet splash, and her lungs instantly forgot how to hold onto breath. A large air bubble escaped her lips as she began to claw to the surface. Two separate hands grabbed her and pulled her up, until she was able to grab the dock as well. 

  Dwalin on her right and Thorin on her left, they both chuckled. "That's the spirit," Thorin said, and nudged against her. He looked down at her and turned away suddenly, seemingly trying to pretend she didn’t exist. "Everyone start moving. We need to get out of the cold and to a hearth." 

The party shimmied along the dock, before going diving under to swim to the opening of the house. Dwalin crawled through first, snapping at the voice on the other end. He reached his hand down, and she grabbed the other end of it. He hoisted her up and ushered her ahead. "Go get warm. You'll catch your death dressed like that." He nodded to her appearance, before raising his brows, coughing, and looking away. 

"I'm wearing the same as you," she replied. She looked down, and noticed that her white shirt was, in fact, different that his dark toned one. She quickly wrapped her arms around her chest and turned. "Right you are. See you up." 

Bard's son, Bain, wrapped a scratchy blanket around Y/N's shoulders. "Go on up, Miss." 

  "Thank you." 

Up the stairs were two girls, one very young and the other on the cusp of adulthood. The latter watched down the stairs, with a very confused look on her face. "Da, why're there Dwarves coming out of our toilet?" 

The youngest had a slight grin on her face. "Will they bring us good luck?"

Y/N laughed a bit and shook her head. "Oh no, not these ones,” she teased with a wink. “They've all gone bad." 

"We heard that!" Bofur called up. 

The Dwarves and Hobbits climbed the stairs, dripping and shivering, and gathered around the table. Thorin wandered around the windows, before halting and looking out in surprise. "The Dwarvish Wind-Lance!" he exclaimed, leaning closer to the window. 

Bilbo, who had found a spot next to Y/N, looked up and recognized the horror in his face. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Balin moved closer and placed on hand on her shoulder. "He has. The last time we saw such a weapon the city was on fire. It was a day the dragon came. The day that Smaug destroyed Dale."

"Was Man living in that village?" she asked, wondering why such a weapon from a city near the mountain would now lie in a city of Man.

"Aye. Girion, the lord of the city, rallied his bowmen to fire upon the beast. But a dragon's hide is tough, tougher than the strongest armor. Only a Black Arrow fired from a wind-lance could have pierced the dragon's hide. And few of those arrows were ever made."

Thorin turned back, and walked to the table, looking more upset and annoyed by the word. 

"The store was running low when Girion made his last stand." Balin lifted his hand and nodded solemnly. 

Thorin placed both large hands on the table, shaking his head. "If the aim of men had been true that day, much would've been different."

Bard walked closer, and face of confusion on his face. “You speak as if you were there," he said.

"All Dwarves know the tale," Thorin answered plainly.

It wasn't until then that Y/N realized they were still undercover. "Like how all Hobbit's know Bilbo's ancestor invented golf," she added, nudging him in a tease. 

Bilbo turned to her, shaking his head. "He didn't invent golf." 

"Hush, it's a good example."

"Then you would know that Girion hit the dragon." Bain stood tall next to his father, looking like a copy, with a stern look on his face. "He loosened his scale under the left wing, and one more shot and he would've killed the beast."

Dwalin chuckled, crossing his arms. "That's a fairy story, lad. Nothing more." 

"Well, Gandalf always said stories have a base of truth with embellishments," Y/N offered. But when she made eye contact with Dwalin his eyes glared, and her hands tightened. She cleared her throat and stared down at the floor. "Like soup." 

Thorin raised a brow. "Did you just compare the history of my people's suffering to the likeness of soup?" 

"She actually compared the history of our people to the likeness of soup," Bard interjected. 

"I'm so hungry," Bofur grumbled. "Talk about anything else again." 

Thorin walked towards Bard and his son, looking more serious and sterner, excusing himself from the soup analogy conversation. "You took our money," he said, his voice sounding much darker. "Where are the weapons?" 

Y/N glanced at Bilbo, who still had his sword, and gave a jokingly mean look. "I found one right there," she whispered to him. 

Bilbo leaned close to her ear, nearly touching the shell. "Next time don't get caught," he whispered. 

Goosebumps rippled all the way up her back, and she let out a nervous laugh. She brought the blanket up closer to her face and rubbed her cheeks. "Very funny, Master Baggins." 

Thorin gave a grunt, interrupting them, and stared out the window at the sun beginning to set past the fog. "Tomorrow begins the last days of Autumn."

Balin gave a grim nod. "Durin's Day falls the morning after next. We must reach the mountain before then."

"And if we do not? If we fail to find the hidden door before that time?" Kili demanded, groaning as he shifted off of his bad leg.

"Then this quest has been for nothing," his brother said, sounding just as frustrated as his uncle.

"We will find a way there," Y/N assured. She glanced at the children and lowered her voice. "We're not exactly in cohorts with the law anymore. I think we're wanted by Elves."

A round of much warmer and much needed laughter sounded through the party before Bard walked back up. He carried long and metal objects in his arms, that clanked together as he sauntered, and was wrapped in netting and scraps of fabric. A path cleared for him, and he cleaned off the table before clunking down the items. 

The party began to pull open the wrappings, only to reveal tools they, and Y/N, had never seen before. "What is this?" Thorin asked, his temper beginning to surface.

"Calmly, Oa--" Y/N looked up at Bard and cleared her throat. "Master Dwarf."

Bard gave a most suspicious look but seemed too tired to engage. "Pike hook," he answered Thorin. "Made from an old harpoon."

"And this?" Kili asked, holding a large hammer. It seemed like hammer one might see in the old Dwarven mines.

"A crow bill, we call it." Bard took away the fishing net and gestured to the many reformed tools. "Fashioned from a smithy's hammer. It's heavy in a hand, I grant. But in defense of your life, these will serve you better than none."

Gloin waved his hands in front of Bard, dismissing all of the tools. "We paid for weapons. Iron forged, swords and axes!"

"It's a joke!" Bofur exclaimed.

All of the Dwarves threw their mishandled weapons back to the table, giving another round of displeasing insults. Y/N gave a sympathetic look, but also agreed. She'd never be able to hold any of this, and her lessons in hand-to-hand would never help against Orcs or Man or Elves. 

When Bard looked to her, he found that even if she defended his weapons, it would not sway the stubborn Dwarves minds. "You won't find better outside the city armory." He grabbed the tools. "All iron forged weapons are held there under lock and key."

Balin and Y/N silently agreed about the severity of the circumstances. "Thorin," he began, "why not take what's on offer and go? I've made do with less, so have you." Like a branch for a shield. He turned to the rest of the party, accidentally shutting Bard out. "I say we leave now."

"You're not going anywhere," he said, catching the attention of a very large group of angry and tired Dwarves. He put his hand on Y/N's shoulder, to which she thought about how many times people had touched her in just the few moments they had arrived in the town. It wasn’t a threatening grip, but it was one to show that he would stop them should they try to leave. She gave a sideways glance to Bilbo, to Bard's hand, and back to Bilbo. She must've looked as uncomfortable as she felt because his face quickly grew red. 

Dwalin stepped over, grabbing his wrist to cause Bard to let go. Bilbo grabbed her blanket to usher her away. "What did you say?" Dwalin asked, his voice murderous. 

Bard ripped his hand away, glaring back down at the Dwarf. "There are spies watching this house and probably every dock and wharf in the town." He gave an apologetic look to Y/N. "We must wait till nightfall."

Understanding the importance of hiding, the Dwarves gave a reluctant vocal indication and sat down among the room. Kili gave a grunt as he sat, much to the worry of his brother.

"Are you okay, Kili?" Y/N asked, removing her blanket to wrap it around his shoulders. "You really must allow us to try and treat that wound. It doesn't look normal. Darkness is filling." 

"I am fine," he hissed.

Cold, tired, and far too exhausted to argue, she let herself flinch at his tone, and sink away. Fili slapped his brother’s chest, to which Kill looked remorseful. Y/N gave a yawn, and pulled her knees close. Her hair had begun to dry, and was frizzing a bit, but so was everyone else's. She rubbed her eyes and shook her head to help wake herself up. 

Dwalin moved to her, and dropped his own blanket around her, covering her knees and shoulders. He sat on the floor right next to her and gave a look to Kill over her head. "We won't be going until nightfall, and the barge is asleep. That gives us an hour or so." 

Y/N looked up at him. "What do you mean, Dwalin?" 

"Well, if you want to get some shut eye, I'll wake you when we're leaving." 

She laughed and yawned again. "You sure you don't want to leave me behind? Keep the troublemaker out of the company’s way?" 

"You are not the troublemaker of the group," he assured. 

She raised a brow, still smiling, and shrugged. "Well, if you promise."

"I promise." 

She scooted down a bit, to where was leaning back more, and rested her head against Dwalin's shoulder. When she let go of the weight, she could feel his muscles tense, and his breathing hitch. "Is it too cold?" she asked sleepily. 

He cleared his throat, and his body relaxed. "Not at all, Miss Y/N." 

When the time to leave had arrived, Dwalin had also fallen asleep, his own head resting on hers. Thorin, upon seeing them, felt something rise inside of him. He had been subduing it the past few weeks, watching their training, their walking, their camping. But he no longer had the capacity to hold back any longer. He knocked his foot against Dwalin's, stirring him from his peaceful slumber. The jolting of his body shook Y/N, and she sat up quickly. 

"I'm up! Is it my turn to take guard?" Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she saw Thorin's hand in front of her.

"No, Miss Hobbit. Now is time to move. We need to get to the armory." 

Bain, who had fallen asleep near the door, awoke to the sound of motion, and stood up. He stood in front of the door, his hands blocking the exit. "I can't let you leave," he said.

Y/N crinkled her nose in confusion. "I thought your father told us to leave at nightfall."

"He told me to keep you here," he argued, looking less sure of himself.

Thorin marched up to him. Even though the human boy was a bit taller than him, the aura of a king was known. "Has your father ever told the truth?" He pushed passed him and opened the door. "Follow me." 

Bain protested and tried to block the rest. But the many Dwarves proved too stubborn and too focused to have a teenager deter their movements. They kept pushing his chest to move him back to the wall, and even Bilbo puffed up to push through. Y/N followed, with a few members behind her, and she gave a sad smile. "I know what your father said. And it's not your fault." 

In the night, with chilly air blowing caused shivers to race up Y/N's spine. She breathed into her hands, in a failed attempt to warm them up, and followed the party across the town. Sneaking to the armory was easy and sneaking in was almost easier. But at the top of the stairs, where the many swords and axes were held, there were difficulties discovered. 

While she offered to carry the weapons down the stairs, Kili, still feeling guilty, took her place. Thorin and the others continued to pile weapons high into his arms. "Are you alright?" Thorin asked him, watching his nephew sweat. 

"I can manage," he strained, adjusting his grip. "Let's just get out of here." 

She kept her own weapon in her hand, and moved to the bottom of the stairs, ahead of Kili. She looked around the room, and out the far windows. She spotted two guards, near the front doors, but other than that a clear way out the way they came. "The coast is clear, but if so much as a wood creak louder than my voice sounds, we'll have some very tall guards against us."

Y/N used the word to simply describe them, but her tone was mistaken as admiration. The men upstairs all glanced at each other and sizing each other up. Kili tried to ignore the comment and took a few steps. However, the sharp pain in his leg betrayed him as he slipped down and clattered to the bottom. "Oh, my gods! Kili, are you alright?" 

He wasn't able to marvel at the fact she used his name, and his name only, as the noise caused the guards outside to burst in. The dwarves ran down with the remaining weapons in their hands, readying to attack. One guard had already seized Kili and her, and the spears stopping the company on the stairs. 

"Shit." 

"Y/N!" 

The guards had gathered all around the party, grabbing every fighting arm, and escorted them to the main building, near the center of the town. Snow had begun to fall, and the prospect of warmer clothing was much too evident. The ruckus had quickly spread through the town, and many of the citizen had awoken to see what the commotion was about. 

The guards had pushed them forward into the square, and the doors of the building swung open. A large, red man, with falling hair and a pointy beard marched down the steps, with a man in black following him. "What is the meaning of this?" the first man demanded, looking to the guards.

"We caught 'em stealing weapons, Sire," he replied, making the Dwarves shift.

The man, who Y/N had presumed to be the master of the town, nodded. "Ah! Enemies of the state, huh?"

"A desperate bunch of mercenaries, if ever there was, Sire," said the man on his right, giving a strange look to all of them. "I assume this rat is some kind of witch." He grabbed at her arm. Having far too much annoyance with men not knowing how to ask, she struggled against him. He let go after a moment, causing her to fall back into the company’s arms.

Dwalin caught her and gave a glare. "Hold your tongue!” He moved closer, and gestured to Thorin, who looked much too proud for such displays. "You do not know to whom you speak. This is no common criminal. This is Thorin. Son of Thrain, son of Thror!"

Thorin stepped closer and spread his arms wide. "We are the Dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland." The townspeople began to murmur to one another, and the sound of their gossiping only encouraged the king. "I remember this town in the great days of old," he continued, turning to face the crowd surrounding them. "Fleets of boats lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake. This was the center of all trade in the north!" 

Some of the members gave a cheer, and the town began to chime in. 

"I would see those days return." He paced, and even made eye contact with the master, who looked much more pleased at the intruders. "I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!"

The crowd cheered very loudly, and the master clasped his hands together, also happy at the thought of more gold and jewels.

"Death!" shouted a voice in the crowd. Bard pushed through, and stood right next to Thorin, glaring down at him. "That is what you'll bring upon us." Thorin gave a deadly look to him. "Dragon fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all."

"You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this; if we succeed all will share in the wealth of the mountain," Thorin yelled, ignoring what the Bard had warned. "You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!"

Bard gave a pleading and almost desperate look to the crowd, and to the company. "All of you! Listen to me, you must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm? And for what purpose?" He turned to Thorin, who had a cool look on his face and fire in his eyes. "The blind ambition of a Mountain King, so driven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!" 

The master, perhaps not wanting things to escalate into a riot on his front steps, made his way to Bard, shaking his head. "Now now. We must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame. Let us not forget, that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor, who failed to kill the beast."

"It was you?" Thorin demanded.

"It's true, Sire. We all know the story," the right-hand man said, stalking his way. "Arrow after arrow, he shot. Each one missing its mark."

The crowd agreed and began to boo and protest Bard. 

The man moved to Thorin and gave a pleading look. "You have no right. No right to enter that mountain."

Thorin glanced up, and gave a serious, and unbending look. "I have the only right." He looked up to the master. "I speak to the Master of the men of the lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people?"

The master looked across the sea of people, to the company, and to Bard. Thorin asked again, causing a silence to run through the crowd. "I say unto you...welcome!" The people roared in cheers and applause. They hugged and slapped the backs of the party. 

However, Y/N looked to see Bard glance around, looking for anyone to share his concern. She moved towards him, tapping him on his hand. "Bard, what causes your concern?" she asked, getting his attention. "Why are you against this journey?" 

"There is a prophecy that your king is either too ignorant to remember or too ignorant to care about," he replied. "If you wake that dragon, you will be unleashing him on the town. This city will go up in flames." 

Thorin turned to see her talking to Bard and moved to her. "Do not listen to this man," he ordered, stepping between them. "This prophecy is nothing more than a tall tale in hopes to sway us from our path." 

"I am not lying to you!" he insisted. 

"And how can we trust that? The weapons made of rubbish, then the order of imprisoning us in your home. Now, when we seek freedom from your lies, you've come to keep us here? This is our birthright!" 

"This town is our home!"

"And that mountain is ours!"

She pushed herself between them and held onto Thorin's clothes. "Oakenshield, this is no time for a row," she told him, pushing towards his body. "We need to keep up morale." 

Thorin motioned for her to rejoin the party, keeping a watchful glare on Bard. "We should go. It seems they'd like to celebrate." 

The morning sun was welcomed, even if it was barely shining through the mist, fog, and clouds. The rays shown through the window, and onto the sleeping party, who had fallen asleep about the celebration hall. Most were still asleep, thanks to alcohol and overeating, but Y/N steered clear of the beverages, not even wanting to attempt. 

The townspeople were gracious enough to clothe them, with much warmer fabric and coats, and supply weapons and rations. They had given her thick wool tights, white and warm, and a leather dress with fluffy trims around the base, collar, and sleeves. She opted to keep the shirt she was wearing before and kept it under the thick dress. They had also given her a coat, fitted for winter, and attempted to give her boots. But since that was all for the morning, she stayed in her large white shirt, and her undergarments.

In the light of the morning, Y/N made a pot of tea, and poured herself a cup as she watched the townspeople prepare the boat through the window. 

Behind her, Thorin approached, wearing his trousers and shirt from the night before, but no shoes. "Good morning, Miss Y/N," he greeted. "Did you make tea?" 

She raised her cup to him, using the motion to answer his question. "I can pour you a glass if you need it." 

He smiled, and she noticed how at unusually happy he seemed. "That would be lovely." 

“You seem uncharacteristically cheerful this morning,” she noted, taking a sip from her cup.

He shrugged. “Today we regain my home. What is not to be cheerful about?”

“I don’t necessarily question why you are content,” she explained. “Perhaps I worded my observation incorrectly. You seem uncharacteristically cheerful towards me this morning.” He said nothing, instead looking down at his hands. “You confuse me, sir. I have offered my unwavering support from the beginning. I’ve been knocked unconscious more times than I can count, and I’ve sustained multiple head injuries trying to pull my weight.”

Thorin opened his mouth, hoping the words would find themselves, but he couldn’t manage much. “I… thank you for your sacrifice.”

“I do not require your thanks. Why do you not like me?” she asked.

“What?”

“Why do you not like me?” She leaned against the table, one hand on the edge and the other holding the handle of her cup. “I understand there are pieces of my personality that could leave something more to be desired, but that is not what is happening here… What have I done to make you hate me so?” She set her tea down behind her, taking a step towards the king to close whatever remaining distance between them. “You once said that a woman could cause distractions on such a long journey.”

Thorin’s eyes widened, suddenly aware of how close she was, her face peering up and only inches away from his own. “Ye… yes, I did.”

“The very idea of such a thing occurring drove you quick to anger.”

“Aye.”

She smelled like vanilla and fresh cream, her face lightly flush in the morning light. Her features delicate and soft, as most Hobbits were, but her eyes were locked on his, cold with an icy blaze in them. “One might think that you hate me so… because you were right.”

His breath hitched in his throat. Her sudden forwardness in a such a topic she tended to avoid was surprising. “How to you mean?” he asked, his voice low and airy.

“Do I distract you… sir?”

The blood left his head in such a rush he was sure he would stumble into the pile of Dwarves that surrounded them.

She pulled away, remanence of a smirk leaving her face as she turned to get her tea. “Perhaps such a conversation should be saved for a later time. Or perhaps we never speak of it again.” She tiptoed over the company, making way to the kettle as Thorin took a seat at the table, still slack jawed and silent. It granted no leave to him that she was wearing the white shirt, and scarce nothing more. “Did you have a good night?” she asked, pouring him a cup.

The question allowed him to shake himself from the spell, avoiding his gaze. “Aye. Did you enjoy the festivities?”

She was alternating between feet, tiptoeing on both, and rocking back and forth. "I did. Nobody parties like Dwarves." She laughed to herself, and it sounded like wind chimes in the morning. "You don't seem the party type, however. I quite remember you arriving after the Baggins party, avoiding the jesting at Rivendell, and spending most of last night in a corner." She played with a piece of her hair and grabbed the sugar jar. "Sugar?"

"No thank you." 

She stirred a splash of cream into the tea and tapped the spoon lightly on the side. She turned and walked back, handing the cup to Thorin, and taking her own seat. “Did you ever take up like your kin and have such freeing fun?”

He took the cup, smelling the freshly steeped drink. "I can't be the same Dwarf I was before the mountain." 

"Well," she began, giggling as she sipped. "I dare not ask you to be the same. I did, however, think kings were the ones who knew exactly how to behave in a banquet. 

He drank his tea and nodded. "I must oblige you, but that could never be achieved in a hall like this. Wooden and fragile and only fish meat.” He shuddered. “Suppose you would need to see how I am when there's a boar I've hunted or the long-polished marble table stretching down the hall." 

"I would like to see that," she admitted. She sadly stirred her tea, which was more sugar than anything. "I don't regret much in my life with Gandalf and my studies. I’ve learned much more than many would ever have a chance of knowing. But I do often wonder. Music and games and dancing. What could have been if I was raised in Hobbiton country rather than the Elven courts." She leaned in close, moving her eyes to a sleeping and snoring Hobbit. "Don't tell him I told you, but most Hobbits are actually very skilled dancers. Much more skilled than I." 

He chuckled at that. "I'm sure the smallest villages had the biggest gatherings." 

Y/N nodded. "But I would love to see a Dwarven party. When Gandalf decides to come back once we've reclaimed the mountain, I hope he allows me to stay to see one." 

Thorin pauses mid sip and notices the fleeting wistful look in her eyes. "You could stay."

She looked over, as if she did not hear him. "Pardon?"

"I know it's not my place, but you could stay. In the mountain, with us. Some of that gold is yours anyways." He glanced to the boat and noticed the workers had tied it to the dock and a crowd began to form to wish farewell. "As a… loyal lady of the king, you could have a home anywhere you would like. And you'd be invited to every party. As a guest and as a loyal company member." 

Y/N laughed and drank her tea. "That sounds like a dream." 

"...But?" 

She looked sheepish and sorrowful, torn between everything. "I long for adventure. But I also long for belonging." She forced a smile, blinking away any beginnings of tears. “You asked me in Rivendell who I was and how I came into the care of our Wandering Wizard.”

“I did.”

She finished her tea, setting down the empty cup and holding her hands together. “I know not many details, but my parents were someplace they should not have been. Hobbits, wandering about; if you can imagine. Gandalf did not tell me how they died, only that a cry was heard among the bodies. There was no Hobbit country to return to, as I had never been. I could never find place with Elves nor Man. Even my wizard is rarely present for company.” She looked over the sleeping faces of those who slowly became her friends. “It truly sounds like a dream. A place where I belong. But I won’t. Not as a guest. Not with… you.”

Thorin nodded grimly. He knew she wouldn't be able to leave everything she knew behind. To leave her one family, to leave her diplomatic duties and her studies. Even his own people were reluctant to leave their familiar lives. Most of all, he found it foolish of himself to ask her such a thing after all that had transpired. It was selfish of him to ask such a thing of her, but he still hoped she would stay. "Well, you are always welcomed a room and food, should you ever visit."

"Of course, I will. This has changed my life, forever." 

The time to wake was upon them, and Y/N dressed in a separate room as Thorin awoke the other members. When she appeared, wearing her winter dress and wool tights, she glared as the company snickered under their breaths. “What?”

“Nothing!” Nori insisted, looking up and down again.

Bilbo pulled his own coat on. She looked to him for answers and he shook his head no. She continued her stare and he sighed. “Well, you look… rather cute dressed like that.”

She pulled the hem of her skirt. “Cute? How is that funny?”

“Because everyone here has a deep respect and fear for you, and you look like a doll.”

Put like that, she couldn’t help but giggle. “I’m sure it doesn’t help that under this dress are two daggers strapped to my thighs. How silly.”

A handful of Dwarves, and the Hobbit, heard her comment and had to look away, faces red. Balin laughed loudly, and many tried to shush him before she asked. “Well, some prefer a woman who is both beautiful and deadly.”

She rolled her eyes, adjusting her pack. “Yes, well, when you find such a gentleman please send him my way. I don’t think many would enjoy my threats.”

Balin looked between his brother and best friend, who stared back shaking their heads.

The walk to the dock was a blur, and the many similarly dressed people caused much chaos. The packs weren't too heavy, but bulkiness of the packs was hilariously large compared to the small beings. Y/N was helped onto the boat, and held her hand out for Kili, who was limping his way along. 

"You do know we're one short? Where's Bofur?" Bilbo called, and the company craned their heads to look.

"If he's not here, we leave him behind," Thorin ordered, helping load the different items and members. 

"We can't just leave him," Y/N insisted, attempting to leave the boat to find him.

Balin grabbed the sleeve of her jacket and kept her on. "He's right, lass. We'll have to if we're to find the door before nightfall. We can risk no more delays."

"But--"

"He will find a way to us," Thorin interrupted. "This is a fishermen's town. There are boats at every turn."

Kili began to board when his uncle placed a hand on his chest to stop him. "Not you. We must travel at speed; you will slow us down."

With a hurt expression, Kili tilted his head. "What are you talking about? I'm coming with you."

"No, no--"

"I'm going to be there when that door's opened!" he protested, looking to the company for backup. "When we first look upon the halls of our fathers, Thorin..." His voice began to fail him, either from the pain in his leg or the fear catching in his throat.

Thorin shared in his sorrowful expression but gave a hopeful smile. "Kili, stay here. Rest. Join us when you're healed." Looking betrayed, Kili watched as his uncle boarded the boat.

Oin hopped off, standing at Kili's side. "I'll stay with the lad. My duty lies with the wounded."

Fili looked to his uncle, who nodded, and shook from the fury. "Uncle, we grew up on tales of the mountain. Tales you told us. You cannot take that away from him!" he protested, standing at his brother’s side.

Much too tired and wounded to argue, Kili grabbed his brother’s shoulder. "Fili."

"I will carry him if I must!" 

He shook his head, offering a sad smile. "One day you will be King and you will understand. I cannot risk the fate of this quest for the sake of one Dwarf. Not even my own kin."

"Oakenshield, please try to see his side of this," Y/N suggested. "I could care for him on our way there." 

Thorin looked down at her and shook his head again. "We have no transportation. Walking on foot would worsen his condition and cause massive delays." 

"We could care for him on the boat."

"There's no room, Miss Y/N." He sighed. "I want them to gaze at the halls of Erebor just as I had promised them, but Kili needs rest."

"Well, I refuse to leave them behind." She gathered her bag, and attempted to leap to the docks, only to have her coat caught. “Dwalin! Let me go!”

"Fili, Y/N, don't be fools,” Thorin urged. “You belong with the company!"

"I belong with my brother," Fili said, refusing to budge.

Thorin looked to Y/N, and she gave a serious glare. "Keep me if you must, but the company will remain incomplete until their return." 

The boat was then pushed and set adrift through the canals of the town, as the majority of the company watched with sad eyes as they left their fellow members behind. "Go now with our good will!" the master called, and the crowd cheered in agreement.

The boat ride was in complete silence, up until they reached shore. The party journeyed onward on land, and came across an abandoned city, crumbling by its walls. The greenery was dead and breaking, and the metal hinges and decorations were rusting away. Bilbo, looking at the ruin, turned to the company. "What is this place?"

"It was once the city of Dale," replied Balin, looking about with grief. "Now it is a ruin. The desolation of Smaug."

Y/N ran her hand along the walls and watched as dust and chalk collected on her fingertips. "It's been abandoned and left to die, along the people who lost their lives here. You can almost feel their anguish."

"How can you?" Bilbo asked.

"Gandalf. He had a gift for sensing the destruction of homes."

Thorin led them out of the city, not taking any time to mourn the buildings and its people. "The sun will soon reach midday. We must find the hidden door into the mountain before it sets. This way." The mountain, standing tall in front of them, had a large stone wall with sealed doors at the base. It was watching them through the carvings of the dwarves.

"Wait," Bilbo said, noticing Y/N's worried look. "Is this the overlook? Gandalf said to meet him here, on no account were we to--"

"Do you see him?" Thorin asked, gesturing to the emptiness around him. "We have no time to wait upon the wizard. We're on our own. Come."

"Y/N, is Gandalf usually like this?" Bilbo asked, as the Dwarves passed them.

She shrugged, swallowing her nerves. "He would often dash about, but there is no being sure about him. He went on his separate way upon discovering the darkness of Mirkwood. I can't help but fear the worse." She tightened her pack and fiddled with the handle of her blade. “Come, we can’t wait for him. Only hope he joins us soon.”

They walked along the base of the mountain, running their hands along the rock, looking for a place to climb. However, the stone was just that—stone. It was smooth from the winds constant abuse, and the ice skidding along.

"Anything?" Thorin called.

Dwalin slammed his fist against the mountain. "Nothing!"

Thorin opened the map again and peered closer at the text. "If the map is true, the hidden door lies directly above us."

"Then there should be a pathway or stairs leading to the door," Y/N concluded, taking rapid steps backwards to get a better vantage on the mountain side.

"Up here!" Bilbo shouted from ahead. She followed his voice and found him standing at the base of a large dwarven king carving, standing out from the mountain. Inside of the carving were step-like patterns, leading to where the door was held.

"You have keen eyes, Master Baggins," Thorin congratulated, smiling from ear to ear.

"What?" Y/N questioned, as the company happily moved towards the base. "It's a giant Dwarf at least fifty meters high. It's amazing we didn't spot it before." Bilbo shrugged, smiling lightly at the compliment. “Oh, calm yourself. So, you found the giant statue.”

“And you didn’t.”

“Oh, whatever,” she scoffed, but smiled back, nonetheless.

As they began to climb, she stayed behind Dwalin. Every slip he might have she tried her hardest to catch his feet, ignoring what could happen if he toppled completely on top of her. "You know, lass, it's usually the gentleman that helps the lady it times of hiking and climbing," he told her, linking his hands together to boost her up.

"Well thank heavens there's none of those here." She placed her foot in his hands as he hoisted her up. She landed and let her hand dangle down the ledge, waiting for him to grab on. “But I doubt my assistance will offer you much.”

"If you two are done flirting, we need to hurry!" Thorin yelled from the top. "It's nearly nightfall."

"We’re not flirting!” she protested, but Dwalin said nothing.

When the party had gathered at the top, Thorin placed his hands on the wall. "This must be it. The hidden door." He turned to his members and smiled. It was a tired one, full of different griefs for different fallen lives, yet it was happy and longing for the peace the mountain could bring. "Let all those who doubted us, rue this day!"

"We have a key," Dwalin said, moving his hands along the wall. "Which means there's somewhere there is a keyhole."

Y/N looked to the horizon, at the sun setting into the distance. "’The last light of Durin's Day...’" she began.

"’Will shine upon the keyhole,’" Thorin finished. He looked at the sun setting, and then to the wall where the light was shining on it.

"Perhaps we all need to backup," Y/N suggested when nothing happened. "So, sunlight can touch all of the wall."

The Dwarves murmured in agreement, and shuffled to the edges of the ledge, trying their hardest to prevents shadows blocking any part. With no keyhole appearing, Thorin asked for Nori's help in locating a lock. He pressed his ear to the wall, and used a spoon to lightly tap the stone, listening for where it might be hollow.

"We're losing the light," Thorin shouted, sounding a bit desperate. "Come on!"

Out of desperation or anger, Dwalin began kicking the wall. "Dwalin, Nori needs to focus!" Y/N hissed, trying to pull him away.

"Exactly! I can't hear when you're thumping!"

Dwalin pulled away and banged his fists. "I can't find it. It's not here! It's not here!"

"Break it down!" Thorin ordered. In a frantic panic, the Dwarves pulled their weapons and began to hit the wall hard. On impact, the iron in them began to chip and fly away, and the handles began to crack and bend. "Come on!"

"Thorin! Come to your senses! You are only destroying your weapons!" Y/N yelled, getting his attention.

"We are so close!" he shouted at her. "You've no mind to comprehend the loss we've had to endure!"

"Haven't I? Have I not bared my soul to you just earlier this day about the loss I have endured? I dare not suggest my own history counters yours, but how dare you insinuate that mine is nothing." she challenged back. She sighed, looking to the horizon as the sun sunk and began to disappear. "We lost the light, Thorin."

"It's no good," Balin agreed, and the company lowered their weapons. "The door's sealed. Can't be open by force. Powerful magic on it." Darkness finally set in on the land, and the light that was on the wall vanished.

"No..." Thorin said. He pulled the map from his side, and frantically searched through it. "The last light of Durin's Day..." his voice cracked, "will shine upon the keyhole." The company watched him. "That's what it says. What did we miss?" Balin shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. "What did we miss, Balin?"

"Let me see that." Y/N held out her hands, and Thorin gave it to her, heartbroken. "'Stand by the grey stone, with the knocking of the thrush, as the sun sets with the last light of Durin's day will shine upon the keyhole.'" She looked around. "Have the birds not returned?"

"We've lost the light," Balin sighed. "There's no more to be done. We had but one chance. Come away, lads. It's over." The Dwarves, with tears in their eyes and dejected expressions, they turned to follow back down.

"Wait a minute, what?" Bilbo demanded, watching as they left. "Thorin, where are they going?"

"He's right!" Y/N added. "If it's magic perhaps I could do something. I don’t know much of the mystic arts, but I can certainly try!"

"Yes! You can't give up now!"

"Miss Y/N and Master Baggins, you are kind to have followed me here, but it is too late." Thorin took one last look at the key, and let it drop from his fingers. "I am sorry, Y/N," he added. "You may never get a Dwarven feast in this lifetime."

"Thorin," Bilbo said. He turned away, and left, leaving the two hobbits behind. "You can't give up now!" Bilbo called after them.

"Hey, I'm here," Y/N said to him. "I'll see if I can try to understand some of this enchantment." She ran her hand along the stone, peering close at the rock in search for any inscriptions or runes that may provide clues of the lock. "Stand by the grey stone. When the thrush knocks, and the setting sun. And the last light of Durin's Day will shine."

He paced as she muttered the prophecy, keeping track of the requirements on her fingers.

"The last light. The last light."

He stared out at the sky, watching as lazy clouds moved across them. One of those floated along and revealed the moon. The blue and white light illuminated the wall, and a small knocking was heard. Y/N stopped her searching, and she and Bilbo both turned to see a thrush, with a snail in its beak, rapping against the stone. The light from the moon speckled across the stone and shifted in view.

"The last light," Bilbo said, in disbelief.

"We all thought of last sun light," Y/N added, standing quickly. "But the parchment said, 'With the setting sun comes the last light of Durin's day!'"

The shifting orbs of light began to travel across the wall, and joined together to reveal a nook, where a small keyhole was placed. "The keyhole!" they shouted together.

Bilbo rushed to the edge and began to shout for them.

Y/N dropped to her hands and knees and began running her hands along the ground. "The key is here somewhere," she muttered to herself. "Where is the key?"

Bilbo shuffled around, muttering the same to himself, and small ding was heard as his foot kicked the key across the stone. Both Y/N and Bilbo reached for it, hoping to catch it before it fell off of the edge, when Thorin's boot stomped on the string. He bent down, and picked it up, as the company returned to the landing. He gave a soft and teary smile to Bilbo and Y/N, taking careful movements to the newly illuminated keyhole. He placed it, and turned till the wall gave a click and pushed in.

"Erebor," he said softly.

"Thorin." Balin stood next to Thorin, his eyes filling with little drops of tears. Thorin clasped a hand around his friend’s shoulder and stepped into the entrance.

He placed a hand on the stone and choked up at the very feel of them. "I know these walls," he told the company. "These halls. This stone." He kept moving forward, staring at the little details carved into the chamber. "You remember it, Balin. Chambers filled with golden light."

Filled with emotion, Balin nods. "I remember."

The rest of the company make way into the mountain, with Y/N and Bilbo trailing behind.

"We're actually here," Y/N said in disbelief.

Her tiny voice carried to Thorin's ears, and the company stepped aside as he moved towards her. He wrapped her in a hug, burying his face into her shoulder and hair. "Not without you," he whispered. “I have many transgressions to make up for, but let me be the first to thank you. Thank you.”

While shocked by his sudden emotion and familiarity, she hugged back, firm and tight. “Anything for the rightful king,” she whispered back.

"'Herein lies the seventh kingdom of Durin's folk. May the heart of the mountain unite all Dwarves in defense of this home.'" Gloin read aloud, folloing the words carved above the entrance.

Thorin released Y/N from his grasp and placed a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. Balin nudged the burglar and gestured to the carved pictures accompanying the words. "The throne of the king," he said.

The small throne held a gem above it, lines indicating it glowing and shimmering. "And what's that above it?" Bilbo asked.

"The Arkenstone."

"The Arkenstone," Bilbo echoed, and Y/N glanced between Thorin and him. Memories of the Elven king and their meeting filled his head. The name "Arkenstone" was mentioned when he discouraged the journey. "And what's that?"

"That," Thorin began, "Master Burglar, is why you are here"

Bilbo and Y/N looked around at the faces of the Dwarves and realized that the task ahead of him would be one of great skill and great danger. "You want me to find a jewel?" Bilbo questioned, shocked by the simplicity.

"A large white jewel; yes," Balin answered.

"That-that's it?"

"Only I imagine there's quite a few down there," Y/N added. "Halls of jewels overflowing like rivers, as the legends say. There's no way for only one white jewel."

"Aye, but there is only one Arkenstone. And you'll know it when you see it."

"That's terrible advice."

Bilbo nodded. "Right."

Sensing his nervousness, she wrapped an arm through his, patting his forearm. “We go together. Ways of the Shire.”

Thorin stepped forward suddenly. “You would go with him?”

“I carry the weight of my members. Up until the end, your Highness.” Then she winked.

Balin glanced around at the party and motioned for the two Hobbits to go deeper into the walkway. "In truth, friends, I do not know what you will find down there." Y/N could tell by the crinkle of his brow and the fidgeting of his hands showed that he was scared on their behalf. "You needn't go if you don't want to. There's no dishonor in turning back."

"No. Balin, I promised I would do this." Bilbo looked to Y/N and nodded. She nodded back, in agreement. "And I think we must try."

Balin lightly chuckled. "It never ceases to amaze me."

"What's that?"

"The courage of Hobbits." He grabbed one shoulder on them each and gave a comforting squeeze. "Go now, with as much luck as you can muster." They nodded and began to make their way down the steps. Only a few in, however, Balin's voice piped up again. "Oh, and Bilbo. Miss Y/N." They turned. "If there is in fact a um... a live dragon down there... make sure it stays asleep."

Bilbo nods to the advice, while Y/N gave a very big gulp. They look at each other, and glance down the way, where the stone leads to the hall. Before Y/N could ask more, she turned and saw that Balin had already made his way back to the landing, with the other Dwarves.

"We'll be okay," Bilbo told her, sensing her nervousness.

"I know," she replied. "Just jitters."

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen: Struck From Great Height

Word Count: 5,133 words

Warnings: violent/gory descriptions, dragon sickness, severe character injury

**

Bilbo and Y/N walked through the halls of stone, following the way to a large bridge. The air was slightly musty, dust piled along the walks and the railings. The was no sign of gold, dragons, or the vaguely described Arkenstone to be found. Before making way through the threshold, Bilbo knocked on the walls, allowing only the soft and empty thumps to be heard. "Hello?" he asked, to no one in particular.

"What are you doing?" Y/N whispered to him, looking around the corner to attempt to spot movement. 

"I'm... trying to see if anyone's home," he explained, lightly rapping his knuckles again.

She snatched his wrist. "But if something is home, we can't go knocking and potentially waking it." 

Bilbo's lips formed a tight line, as he nodded in agreement. He joined her by the wall, glancing around the stone to look into the larger hall of the mountain. When the coast appeared to be clear, they continued their way, each step carefully calculated before it was placed. Little gold coins were scattered across the ground, leading to stairs journeying to a golden light peaking at the end.

"He's not at home," Bilbo told her, when no movement was seen. "Not at home. Good. Good, good, good."

She looked to him and tried to force a soft smile. "Nervous?" she asked, nudging his side lightly.

Bilbo clicked his tongue and tilted his head. "Not every day I'm out searching for jewels in a dragon's lair." 

"You're doing great. You can hardly even tell you're not a professional burglar." 

“You say that as if you are one.”

“Perhaps not professional, but in case I must remind you of how I originally got my daggers, and my sketch in your Shire.” She finally let go of his wrist and gripped her belt to stop her hands from fidgeting.

“Nervous?” he questioned back.

“Well, just as you said. It is not every day I am searching for jewels in a dragon’s lair.”

They tiptoed, tapping into their natural gifts as Hobbits, and descended the staircases. At the bottom, there was barely any room for footwork. The marble was covered in jewels and coin, towering in piles reaching for the vast ceiling above. The shine from the lit fires danced across the walls, and the sheer mass and gravity of the amount was almost too much to conceive. 

Bilbo and her looked at each other and nodded. Immediately, they got to their hands and knees and began to wade through the sea of treasure. Y/N tried to focus some of her senses into feeling for where it might be. If this truly was a jewel and gem of its own kind, one powerful enough to drive a king mad, then perhaps there was an enchantment behind it. If not… well, she began to wonder. If a jewel or gem or metal or mineral holds no enchantment, no magic, and no other-lordly power, than the obsession for such materials is nothing more than greed for rocks. And the kings, no matter how powerful they are or claim to be, are none more powerful than the common crowd.

While shaking herself of her thoughts, Y/N heard Bilbo mumbling to himself. He must do that when trying to focus under stress. "What's that?" he whispered, shaking a white gem, the size of his fist, near his ear. After hearing no twinkle of magic, he tossed it aside onto the pile of coins. The loud noise caused them both to jump, as Bilbo held a finger to the gold, like scolding a child. "Shush. Shush!"

“If we die because you toss about gems, I’ll be very disappointed in you.”

“If we die from my tossing, then I’ll be disappointed in myself.” He looked around the large hall, stretching meters upon meters in all directions, completely filled with treasure. "Arkenstone. Arkenstone. A large, white jewel." He then looked to her and sighed, gesturing to the hall. "Very helpful."

She followed his lead as he began to climb the pile of gold, carefully stepping behind him. As they passed one of the large columns in the middle, Bilbo picked up a gold chalice, filled with coin, and poured it out on the growing floor. The coins, however, began to slide down to the bottom, catching more and more treasure in its avalanched, and reveal a single, closed, scaled eye. 

She could hear Bilbo's breath stop, along with his heart, as he began to gesture for Y/N to move back. When they made it behind the column, the dragon awakened and began to pick up his head. Glittering gold fell from its scales, twinkling down like rain to reveal a large, red dragon, stretching the length of the hall. 

"Y/N, don't be frightened," he whispers back to her. "I will not have left you." 

"How do you mean?"

When she turned back towards his voice, she found him gone. Panic rose in her, as she frantically looked around to find him. But in her midst, the dragon gave a deep breath, smelling for intruders.

"Well, thief..." he said, his voice deep and gravely. There was a rumbling in his throat, that of a large beast that had not spoken in a hundred years. Tired and perhaps cranky to be woken up. The was a slight humor behind his words, and the shifting gold caused Y/N's already shaking knees to fail her. "I smell you. I hear your breath. I feel your air. Where are you?" He snaked his head around the pillar, and she was certain he had seen her. He was just playing games. "Where are you?" He continued his lazy hunt, the waves of gold shifting with every one of his movements. "Come, now. Don't be shy. Step into the light," Smaug said, nearing closer. Y/N could feel the heat radiate off of his body, and smell his breath surround her.

"Mm. There is something about you," he continued, chuckling. "Two of you. Strange beings.  Something one of you carries. Something made of gold. But far more...precious." The way he growled the last word made his eyes glow gold with fire, and Y/N fall in front of him. "There you are, Thief in the Shadows. But where is the other?" 

"Th-there is no other being h-here," she stuttered, scrambling to get back to her feet. "There only be I." 

Smaug's laugh rumbled deep in his throat, like hot coal cracking in a fire. "Lies do not suit young ladies. Deceit and thievery..." He moved closer, causing Y/N to stumble as she dodged his snarl. "I expect as much from Dwarves... but you are not one." 

"I-I am a humble Hobbit," she trembled. She knew she should've grabbed her sword to offer herself some comfort, but he was too close, and such efforts against his scales would be in vain. 

"Humble?" A single hand, with yellowing claws landed next to a pillar, causing an eruption of gold to fly. "Do you think trembling before me will have me pity you?" 

Her eyes dashed about, looking for movement of where Bilbo could be hiding. He was hired to search for the Arkenstone, as was she to grant him some sort of protection, but now that she was cowering at the feet of a fiery dragon, she felt abandoned. Again. "No, O Mighty Smaug. I-I am here to see if you were as the songs said." 

Smaug paused. The thought of people writing hymns and legends about him piqued his interest. After all, what is praise if not a form of gold? "Songs you say? Has the little liar found a new trick to try?" 

"Never! They have written such daring and terrifying and incredible poems in your honor," she quickly said, holding her hands in front of her. "The legends are barely true compared to your form in person." 

"You don't say?" He lifted himself to his full stature, towering over the piles and columns. "If you do not lie, perhaps you could grace me with an example. It may give you a few more moments of life." 

Part of Y/N was grateful, to be given a chance to use her bardic hymns to subdue him but panicking at the thought of having to write and preform a song praising him on the spot. "I-I haven't a harp or--" Before she could finish, a single claw carried a silver harp, with rubies encrusted in the curves, and placed in front of her. "Right... Thank you." 

She sat down on a tall pile of gems and pulled the instrument towards her. Giving one last glance at Smaug, who stared down at her with steam slowly leaving his snout and cleared her throat. Oh, please let this be how I discover I too have the gift of the arcane and bardic arts, she prayed.

She began to strum and pluck, a simple tune to start, and tried to force an ounce of magic to produce itself and flow into her notes. "Beware the nights of Yore Town when clock strikes half past three/ for a beast from the depths may find himself inside your streets./ Men of iron and of ice find their mighty means mean not/ for all will burn to the fire Smaug has breathed and brought." 

Hoping to make the lullaby sound like a "mighty" and "cautionary tale" one sings to naughty children, she pushed her voice to its sweetest to lull the dragon. And after the first three verses, Smaug's golden eyes began to fade, and his head lowered back to his bed. She began to sing harmonies to her harp, watching as Smaug let out a deep sigh, signifying his slumber. 

"Hear my tale and promise me to never hoard or steal/ lest you wish a dragon king make home inside your hill./ Some say the mighty serpent lies away, sleeping ways to go/ but I know wiser truths, he waits in trea...sured... gold..." With the last word, she let her voice fade away and ended her strumming. 

Relief rushed over her, and she slumped in her make-shift seat. Whether this was the result of magical ability or song was unknown, but she rocked nonetheless as the blood fell from her head. Her lungs were tired, and heaving slowly, her fingers shaking and cut from the strings, and her head was swimming. The focus and hope needed to attempt to subdue such a beast was one of great power, that she had never managed before. Luckily, some gods were watching over her, because the sleepy dragon was indeed still tired.

Y/N stood up, and slowly made her way down the hill. Her own eyes were beginning to fail her, she searched the blinding halls for a sign of Bilbo. But her Hobbit friend was nowhere to be found. Swaying on her feet, she wandered a few meters, hoping to catch sight of the Arkenstone. But before she gave in to her exhaustion, a shimmer of blue, pink, and white wavered in her spotting vision. There, at the base of the gold, was a stone, about the size of her hands, laying against the floor. 

Hope rose in her, as she wandered her way to it. As her fingers were about to touch it, Bilbo's hand grasped onto her shoulders. Before she could let out a scream, his hand wrapped around her mouth as he shushed near her ear. "You did wonderful." 

He let go and picked up the Arkenstone. Once his grip was around the gem, she fell to her knees, breathing heavily. 

"Y/N!" Bilbo whispered quickly, kneeling next to her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just... so tired... and so very drained. He was so close to me. Have you ever smelled the fire on someone’s breath? I almost keeled in fright." She let out a ragged breath, and it was almost enough to prevent Bilbo to look behind her in fear.

"Did you think," a deep voice growled, murder dripping from the depths of the halls, "I could be subdued by the hymn of a single song?!" Smaug rose from his coins, awake and eyes flashing wildly as he stomped towards them. "Did you think I did not know this day would come?" He demanded, as Bilbo tried to pull Y/N to her feet. "That a pack of canting Dwarves would come crawling back to the mountain?"

"Y/N get up, please!" 

"Leave her to die and you may see yourself saved, Thief in the Shadows!" His throat began to light and crackle, sparks flying and landing on the treasure under him. "It's Oakenshield," he said, cruel humor behind his voice. "That filthy Dwarvish usurper. He sent you in here for the Arkenstone, didn't he?" His eyes flashed to the stone in Bilbo's hand, as the Hobbit opened his mouth to sputter something. "Don't bother denying it!" he roared, stopping Bilbo. "I guessed his foul purpose some time ago. But it matters not. Oakenshield's quest will fail. A darkness is coming. It will spread to every corner of the land. You are being used, thieves in the shadows. You were only ever  means to an end. The coward Oakenshield has weighed the value of your lives and found them worth nothing."

"Liar!" Y/N croaked, as Bilbo dragged her away. The mention of the darkness infecting the land frightened her, causing her to think of her wizard, and where he was. “You are a deceitful beast!”

"What did he promise you?" he mocked, sensing her strength slowly returning. "A share of the treasure? As if it was his to give." He threw a shower of gold out, the pieces clattering against them. "I will not part with a single coin. Not one piece of it!"

Bilbo managed to get her to stand and tried to run to shelter. But Smaug's tail quickly swiped under them, causing them and the stone to fly in all directions. Y/N impacted with a stone column, landing on her back, and gasping as the air was stolen from her lips. The headache spread quickly than any plague as she clutched her skull. “For heaven’s sake, the results of head injuries!” she rasped, pulling herself to a shaking stance. She pulled her sword from her sheath, vainly hoping for its protection.

"My teeth are swords; my claws are spears." The sound of Smaug's nails scratching the floor was piercing. "My wings are a hurricane!"

The dragon paid no attention to Y/N, who was running down the golden hill with her blade in hand, as he pursued the Hobbit actively searching for the Arkenstone, lost somewhere in the distance. 

Bilbo said something that the ringing in her head prevented her from hearing. But Smaug's anger quickly flared. "What did you say?!"

Bilbo said something else, and the sly laughter from Smaug returned.

"I am almost tempted to let you take it," the dragon sneered, bashing his jaws, "if only to see Oakenshield suffer. Watch it destroy him; watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad." 

Y/N rushed to Bilbo, avoiding the coins. Her knees felt like pudding and her blood was turning to lead, but Bilbo was two words away from charred remains. Smaug stood before her, his body towering over the treasure, and the heat of his stomach and throat was causing her to sweat. “Bilbo!” she screeched, watching as her friend was nearly frozen.

"But I think not, I think our little game ends here. So, tell me, thief. How do you choose to die?"

She rushed under Smaug, avoiding his snarling teeth, and grabbed Bilbo's hand. She sprinted, dragging him along, and the dragon breathed in and filled the hall with inferno flames. She found way back to the stair where they had originally descended and pulled herself and Bilbo to the top. As they were about to make way back through the secret passage, Y/N impacted with a being, and fell to the ground.

"Y/N!" Bilbo exclaimed.

"You're alive!" Thorin said, kneeling to help her. 

"Not for much longer," Bilbo retorted, shaking his head. Thorin picked up Y/N, having her lean on him. Her face was sinking, and her color was fading to grey. Sweat began to break out against her face and she shivered. 

"What happened to her?" Thorin demanded. "You were supposed to keep each other safe!" 

"She’s been knocked about for the past three days! She’s got a severe concussion." he answered, making way back through the hall.

But Thorin's hand blocked him. "Where were you when she was attacked?"

Bilbo gave a questioning look and glanced between her and the king. "What do you mean? I was looking for the stone!"

"And did you find the Arkenstone?" 

Bilbo huffed and pointed behind himself. "The dragon's coming!"

"So not only did you allow her to end up in such a state, but you also failed to do the one job I had assigned you to do!"

Bilbo hesitated. A dark shadow was casting across Thorin's features. Instead of arguing, he nodded and held up his hands in surrender. "You're right. But we need to get out." He took a step to leave, but Thorin placed the tip of his sword to Bilbo's chest. Thorin took another step towards him, causing the Hobbit to back away. "Thorin."

He continued to advance, his eyes growing darker.

"Thorin!" Bilbo repeated, more worried.

"What are you two doing?" Y/N questioned, her voice raspy and cracking. 

Thorin kept his sword pointed to Bilbo's chest, looking ever more threatening. The king's grip on Y/N adjusted, as her head slumped a bit. This moment may have turned deadly had the Dwarves not joined the tension. They had their weapons raised and ready, as Thorin quickly lowered his. Every being stopped at the sight of Smaug inching closer. "You… will… burn!"

"Come on!" Thorin picked up Y/N and began to run, leading the rest.

"Come on, Bilbo!" Balin yelled, pulling him from his trance.

Smaug roared another round of flames, the fire licking at the heels of the party. Thorin was the last to enter the safe room and handed Y/N quickly off to Dwalin. He shrugged his burning coat off quickly and stomped out the fire. "Come on," he ordered, leading them deeper into the rooms and mazes of halls.

Y/N huffed into Dwalin's chest, holding onto his coat. "Great Durin..." he muttered, quickly following suit. "What happened to ya, lass?" 

She shivered, and forced out a laugh. "I'm fine. Now, put me down. I am in no need of assistance.” She wasn't entirely sure about anything she said, even the 'I’m fine’ part, but if she could focus on the world around her, drowning out the stress and everything else, she would be able to bring herself to stand.

The company came across a large and railing-less bridge, spanning to the other side of the great hall. Before crossing, Thorin held up a closed fist, and everyone stopped behind him. "Ssh. Ssh-ssh," he whispered. He looked around the hall, listening intently to locate where Smaug could be lurking.

Dori stuck his head towards the front. "We've given him the slip," he whispered.

"No, he's too cunning for that." Dwalin slowly lowered Y/N from his arms and wiped the hair from her forehead. He helped her steady herself, and she pushed away, nodding at her state.

"So where to now?" Bilbo asked, placing one hand on Y/N's. She rubbed her thumb across his palm, before taking it back and rubbing her pulsing head.

"The western guard room," Thorin answered. "There may be a way out."

Balin shook his head. "It's too high. There's no chance that way." 

"It's our only chance. We'll have to try." Thorin gave one last look, before motioning for everyone to follow. "Come on."

The party followed him, slowly and softly. The darkness of the shadows casted onto them was eerie, like ghosts from the lost souls showering over them. The silence was much welcomed to Y/N. She could focus and there were no sounds to batter her skull. She found it was easier to breathe, and she didn't feel as cold as she once did, but her body still ached. In the deathly silence, the sounds of little coins pattering against the stone floor echoed. The company stopped, and looked around, to see whose pockets were emptying. But the gold was falling from high above, and it was seen that Smaug was moving silently above them, coins dripping from the creases of his scales. He hadn't seemed aware of their presence, and Thorin motioned for them to follow.

Once they made it to the other side, the creeping turned into a brisk jog, as they hurried to the western guard room. "Stay close," Thorin ordered, and Y/N wondered how he was able to sound so sure, and confident.

They entered the room, and the hushed breaths fell upon them once more. Y/N could hear the hitches in Dwalin's breathing, as he paused and looked around. "That's it then," Dwalin said. "There's no way out."

Littering the floors and walls were the skeletons and decaying remains of fifty or so Dwarves, huddled and tangled into each other. Dust of their disintegration was strewn about their bones in piles, and their hands intertwined with one another. “Oh, gods.”

"The last of our kin." Balin's voice was on the verge of breaking. "They must've come here, hoping beyond hope."

Thorin moved around the room, searching for anything they could use or a secret way that hadn't be discovered.

"We could try to reach the mines," Balin suggested. "We might last a few days."

Thorin shook his head, less sure of himself than he was leading them there. "No. I will not die like this. Cowering, clawing for breath." He looked to the company, seeming to have come up with an idea. "We make for the forges."

"He'll see us, sure as death!" Dwalin protested.

"Not if we split up."

Balin stopped his king from heading out of the room. "Thorin, we'll never make it."

"Y/N can hardly walk!" Bilbo added, pointing at her as she gripped the table with white knuckles. "She's become our only defense against Smaug."

"What do you mean?" Dwalin questioned.

"She didn't end up this way because she was doing nothing! She practically had him subdued with nothing but a harp. But he’s far too awake now to be lulled again.”  

"Hey!" Y/N croaked, letting her fingers leave the table and make way to the middle of the company. "I'm fine. I can walk." She rubbed her head and pushed the strands of hair out of her face. "Thorin has yet to lead us wrong. We can make it."

Thorin didn't look very pleased at her trying to stand, but he didn't stop her. "Some of us might lead him to the forges. We kill the dragon. If this is to end in fire, then we will all burn together." He motioned for Bilbo, Balin, and Y/N to follow him to the forges.

Putting most of her focus on staying upright and blocking away the spots in her vision caused her to almost go into a trance. She didn't have time to look where they were running or what rooms and halls they passed through. She simply kept her eye on Thorin's back and hoped she wouldn't trip.

"This way!"

Suddenly, out of the shadows, Smaug's voice boomed in the halls. "Flee! Flee! Run for your lives! There is nowhere to hide!" He got closer, when three dwarves appeared behind him.

"Behind you!" Ori shouted.

"Yeah! Come on!" Dori added.

At the sound of their shouts, Smaug turned and charged towards them.

"Run!"

With the dragon distracted, the four of them made it to the forges. 

"This way! It's this way! Come on!" Balin shouted. 

Bilbo noticed Thorin run a different direction. "Thorin!"

"Follow Balin!" he commanded. 

"Come on!" 

Y/N followed Thorin, as he made was to a large, stone hole surrounded by columns. Her sword was sheathed, and she abandoned the skirt of her gifted dress to allow for better mobility. "Y/N! Go back!" 

"I know what you're doing!" she argued, watching as Smaug came closer. "And you will need my assistance." 

Before he could fight back, the heat from Smaug's fire was felt on their necks, and the dragon began to charge towards them. Thorin nodded his head, trusting her, and grabbed her hand. They didn't need to count, and simply jumped into the hole together. Smaug came in after them, snarling. She wrapped herself around Thorin's torso as he grabbed a hold of a hanging rope from the ceiling. He grunted at the sudden stop, but what really stopped them was Thorin's feet hitting the closed mouth of Smaug.

"Y/N! Thorin! Hold on!" Dwalin shouted from the top, beginning to feed another rope to pull them up.

Smaug chuckled and began to open his jaws to release and inferno upon them. Thorin grabbed the rope that was tossed down and grabbed her by her waist. She took her sword in one hand, and threw it down, hitting the beast in eye. “Pull us pull us pull us!” she ordered, as the dragon cried out in pain and anger. At the top, when they were on level ground, the dragon released an angry roar of flames, charring and nearly melting the stone and columns.  

"Come on! Go go go!" Thorin shouted when the flames ceased. 

Y/N knew Bilbo was asking how she was, but it was almost as if she was underwater. Heavy. Light. Dark. Piercing. Muffled and soft. She almost wasn't in control anymore. There was only one thought, to survive.

They reached the forges, and Dwalin rubbed his hand across the furnaces. "The plan's not gonna work," he informed them. "These furnaces are stone cold."

"He's right. We've no fire hot enough to set them ablaze." Balin looked about, most likely searching for a place to take shelter.

Thorin turned to the sound of Smaug's claws scraping against the floor. A smile crept onto his face. "Have we not?" He made his way back to the hole, leaning over. "I did not look to see you so easily outwitted!" he taunted, laughing at the dragon. "You have grown slow and fat in your dotage!" Smaug's furious face was fuming. "Slug!" He turned to the company. "Take cover. Go!"

Everyone hid behind the columns, as Smaug breathed more flames into the room. The rest was a blur. Everyone ran somewhere. Thorin shouted orders, and Dwalin grabbed her waist to move her along. 

Black. 

Fires in the forges heating up long forgotten metals.

Black.

Boiling water pouring over Smaug, as he cries out in anger.

Black. 

Dwalin crouching over her, brushing his fingers across her cheeks, trying to get her attention. He looked so sad, touching her face. 

Black.

Gold shimmering. A gold lake below the blue and cold halls. And a dragon, shaking and roaring about, thrashing in anger. He opened his mouth, pointed straight at the Dwarves, but none of them were moving. Too shocked. Or too tired to run. 

She quickly brought herself up, stealing Dwalin’s axe, and running to the edge of the platform overlooking the hall, where the golden lake shimmered and glistening under the movement of the beast. “You snake!” she shouted, gaining his attention.

“The pot and the kettle, thief,” he responded, building up his next exhale of flames.

“Do not speak to me of comparisons,” she spat, holding the weapon in both of her hands. “You are nothing compared to us.”

He snarled, the last of the gold dripping down his face. “You are none more worthy to even look at me.”

She lifted the axe over her head. “I was just about to say the same thing.” With her final word, she launched to weapon at him, watching as it soared through the air, spinning wildly, and landing directly in his other eyes.

The floor beneath her cracked, and the halls shook from the sound of his roar. Smaug shook his head, his eyes turned orange from the blood flowing down his face and his scales cracking and rippling. He contorted his body around, sending molten gold raining toward her, burning, and cutting her skin. The fear soon became impossible the ignore, as Smaug turned around, and fled. He smashed through the wall and flew away, leaving the Dwarves alone and alive. 

Y/N tried to smile, but it would be bittersweet anyways. Lake-Town would suffer, set ablaze the way Bard had said it would be. 

Thorin grasped her shoulder turned her around, and she expected a hug, like the one she received after saving him from the Orcs all those months ago but he looked deathly afraid. 

Confused, she looked down at her palms and arms, and saw they were red and scratched, bleeding down her fingertips. Her feet, once very durable, were now bleeding too. She opened her mouth to reassure them, but only coughs and gasps escaped. All along her torso were slashes and burns, the gold having impaled her. She coughed more and more and found herself searching for air. She collapsed on the ground, as blurry faces surrounded her. Her breathing became more and more erratic, until everything turned black.

“You are drowning.”

“I am not.”

“I am your fear.”

“You are not.”

“Then why are you so afraid?”

“Because you are dear to me.”

“Afraid of those you love?”

“Of course. You may be the only one to live to make me so scared.”

“Because of what I may ask you to do?”

“No, because of what I may do whether you ask it or not.”

“Such as?”

“Die.”

Bonus poetry verses:

Beware the Nights of Yore

Beware the nights of Yore Town when clock strikes half past three,/ for a beast from the depths may find himself inside your streets./ Men of iron and of ice find their mighty means mean not,/ for all will burn to the fire Smaug has breathed and brought.

Desolation and cruel fates to your dreams he brings,/ Who steals the children from their beds and ceases pleasant rings?/ Vigilance and clarity may save you from this end,/ but what a dragon king loves most is a challenger at hand.

Stalking lands with armored backs and wings like sails to tides,/ those who succumb to glistening jewels are sure to lose their minds./ Elven lords and kingly Dwarves have no more to command,/ for all with fall to the power Smaug curses on our land.

Hear my tale and promise me to never hoard or steal/ lest you wish a dragon king make home inside your hill./ Some say the mighty serpent lies away, sleeping ways to go/ but I know wiser truths, he waits in trea...sured... gold...

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen: Something Would Always Rule Me

Word Count: 6,213 words

Warnings: Thorin being insane, brief coma, like a smidgen of sexual activities (not really but like alluding to them)

She woke many times, but nothing more than a few awareness glances. No one really seemed to know she was awake.

The first time was to the sound of Bilbo crying into her hand. She wanted to tell him that it was okay, and that Lake-Town would be okay, and that she was okay, but nothing came out. He would sob, try and hold himself together, only to cry again at the sight of her.

The second time was to Bofur talking. He wasn't as cheerful as he usually was, and his eyes were red. He talked about how he missed sparing with her, and the stories she would tell at the fire. How he was waiting to show her the instruments they found looking for the Arkenstone. He was changing the bandages on her hands and stomach, and she wondered when they started making bandages red. It was hard to make out what he was saying towards the end, but soon he started crying too.

The third time was Fili and Kili. They didn't say anything. She wanted to jump with joy that they had returned, and that Kili was alive and well, but she remained laid in bed, motionless. They each held one of her hands, and carefully stroked the top. She tried to tell them it hurt a little, with their tough palms, but she quickly fell back asleep.

The fourth and last time was Thorin. He was dressed differently, wearing a large and long cloak, and it seemed to be a crown on his head. He looked a bit thinner in his face. And weaker. And when he wasn't crying into her palm, he was saying something as he stroked her hair. It was such a sight to see, such a proud king in his royal garb, crying bedside. Silent tears moving down his stern face, to where if no tears produced one could not see he was crying at all.

She wasn’t sure how long she was asleep between each moment of consciousness, but when she finally woke up, and stayed up, it was the middle of the night. She sat up in her bed, clutching at her side, and checked to see how much of herself was injured. It seemed to be her whole front of her body, and some places were worse than others, but it didn't seem to be internal. At least, not in her organs. Her throat was wrapped, with a pressure on it that felt nice. But there were still the remains of aching scratches on her trachea. Even thinking about crying pained her. She concluded that an well placed nick on her artery was what did the trick, and the wounds sustained elsewhere were just added straws to the stack.

She looked around, and saw she was in a very large room, almost the size of a Hobbit house. She laid in a large bed, with soft blankets and covers and quilts on her body. Crocheted pillows were stacked up behind her, and the nightstand was covered in medicines, herbs, water, and medical supplies. Soft fires lit near the door, and a single window showed that it was a cloudless night.

She pulled the covers from her body, and slowly moved her legs over the side of the bed. The ground was cold beneath her feet, and the white covering on her body were still causing chills to run through and up her veins. She grabbed a small blanket for a shawl for her shoulders and attempted to stand.

She fell immediately, and sharp sparks ran through her knees. She gasped and subdued the urge to cry out, feeling the stitches on her neck pull with every motion. She looked up and saw a rack for walking sticks and canes by the door. She crawled her way over and pulled out a sturdy and smooth looking one. Grabbing onto the handle as well, she hoisted herself up and leaned into the stick, holding with both hands.

She opened the door, and walked out into a hall, stretching far in both directions. One side felt cold, and didn't seem to light, and the other was warmed by a breeze, and lights could be seen in the distance. Guessing that was where a common hall would be, given the warmth coming from there, you began to slowly shuffle. It took maybe ten or twenty minutes to simply make it down the hall. She had to continue to stop and catch her breath and leaning against the wall. When she made it to the end, you came across stairs leading down. Perhaps four levels worth.

"Durin’s beard," she muttered, before grasping the railing and shuffling further.

After an hour of shuffling, she felt hunger rumble in her stomach and clasped her abdomen. Except upon grasping, she winced, remembering that she was injured there too. The fire felt closer, and she could even hear voices chattering down the hall. The closer she became, the easier she could make out what they were saying. It wasn't perfect, but it was something.

"She should've woken up by now." Bilbo.

"She almost destroyed herself; she needs time." Balin.

"I don't understand what happened." Kili.

"The gold had begun to harden. Some pieces must’ve been like arrows aimed straight for her." Dwalin.

"Well, then what can help her?" Fili.

"This doesn't help Thorin either." Bofur.

She made her way around the corner and saw the six of them sitting in chairs around a table. A fire was lit behind them, and untouched food was sitting on wooden plates and bowls. "I-I don't know..." Bilbo's voice cracked as he rubbed his forehead. "I don't know if she'll be okay..."

She had meant to say, 'Don't count me out yet,' but it came out as an airy sort of laugh.

They all looked up, and it almost seemed to worsen things. They looked like they were staring at a ghost, the pins in their heads all pointing towards that she must’ve passed, and her spirit was now haunting the lonely halls. But it all melted away when she tried to move closer, a bit faster than she had been moving in the halls. Dwalin stood up suddenly, knocking down the chair behind him. Kili and Fili followed suit, and she smiled as they rushed towards her.

"Y/N!"

She dropped her stick and made a few steps before falling into their helpful arms.

"Great Durin..." Dwalin muttered, looking her up and down. "How are you standing?"

She stopped herself from saying anything, and touched her throat, tapping it lightly.

"Right," he said, apologetically. "Course, lass."

They helped her to the table, and sat her down in an armchair, cushioned with soft fabrics. When she finally sat, she let out a breath of relief, and smiled at them.

"You look better, Y/N," Bilbo said, still in shock.

She let out a breath that she meant as laughter and shook her head. She raised her bandaged hands and mimed knocking her head. Bilbo couldn't help but laugh.

"Are you hungry, lass?" Balin asked, as everyone sat back down around her.

She nodded quickly, feeling her mouth quickly fill with saliva, and he placed a bowl of soup in front of her.

"You might want to wait for it to cool. We don't know the extent of your internal injuries."

She nodded, and began to spoon and blow on the soup, before drinking quickly. It was rabbit stew, she assumed, but Balin had taken out the veggies and rabbit meat. She must've been put on a liquid diet while she was unconscious. It was delicious, and she eventually opted out the spoon and lifted the bowl directly to her lips.

"How did you get down here?" Kili asked, noticing her dropped walking stick.

She nudged her head towards it without bringing down the dish, continuing to eat.

"How long have you been awake?" Fili leaned forward and grabbed a piece of bread.

She held up two fingers.

"Two hours?"

"You seem to have your appetite back," Bofur mentioned, as he saw the soup disappear from the bowl.

She gave him a confused look, but nodded, nonetheless.

Balin elbowed him in the side, and he looked apologetically back. "Well, you didn't really eat much when you were... well asleep."

She stopped eating and placed her bowl down. She looked at the group, trying to find a way to mime to ask how long she had been out. She rasped out a few words, but nothing above a whisper.

"Woah, Y/N. You can't try speaking," Kili told you.

She threw her hands up, exasperated, and looked around to see what she could use to communicate. Bilbo noticed and moved from the table to the bookshelf. He moved through some of the book, until he found an empty one, and pulled it out. He also grabbed a charcoal pencil, and handed them both to her. She opened to the first page and began to scribble. 'How long was I asleep?' It was a bit difficult to hold the pen, and her writing reflected that, but she held it up and showed the group.

They all exchanged nervous glances.

"Well, lass, I'm not sure you want to know," said Balin, fidgeting his fingers together.

She huffed, and tapped the question again, this time more urgently.

He sighed. "It's been about six days."

She cocked a brow and scribbled some more. 'Why were you all so worried then?' Sure, six days was nothing to sniffle at, especially if the reason was head injury related, but given her injuries she was sure she had made quite a speedy recovery.

Balin shifted some more, clearly uncomfortable telling her. "We didn't think you would make it, miss." He rubbed his head and stroked his beard. "When you collapsed, you lost a lot of blood. More than enough to kill you. And your skin was turning burnt and tearing." He sniffled. "To be honest, how you're up and able is nothing short of a miracle. Yesterday you were on the brink. Fever, chills, and you hadn't eaten at all. Barely any water. None of the medicines would take."

'But that can't be true. I'm walking which means something must've worked.'

"Maybe, lass, but I wouldn't be surprised if you slip back under."

She knew he was right. The journey just down the stairs was strenuous. Even now she were dreaming of the bed with a million pillows and blankets to sink into. And the cool breeze from the window slowly rocking her to sleep. But she wrote more, her hand starting to shake and weaken. 'Is anyone else hurt?'

They all took a moment to read and process her written words, and Balin smiled. "Thanks to you, we're all safe."

She sighed and nodded, feeling relief wash over her.

"I think it's time for bed," he said, pushing his chair back.

Kili was at her side in a heartbeat, extending his arm for her. She wrapped her arms around his elbow, as Fili pulled the chair from under. She pointed to her cane, gesturing that she could walk with it, but Kili shook his head. "I've got you."

Too tired to protest, she let him support/carry her back to her room. The rest followed, trailing slightly behind in case she needed the help. Once she was in bed, tucked and snuggled until moving wasn't an option, one by one the Dwarves and Hobbit said goodnight. She could tell by their faces that they didn't expect her to wake up the next morning, or even the next day.

They left the room, but Kili straggled behind, contemplating the door and the stool by her bed. She managed to free an arm and waves it to get his attention. Misreading it as a sign that she needed help, he quickly came to her side and sat down. "Yes, Miss Y/N?" he asked, holding her hand in his.

She smiled and shook her head and reached for the braids she had made some time ago, when she was able to practice. They still had the beads in them, and the braid was intact, but hairs began to fly away. He laughed and embarrassingly tugged the other one. "I had to keep the hair out of my face," he explained.

She nodded, slightly teasing him.

His smile began to fade as he bowed his head. "I was terrified when you collapsed," he admitted, shielding his eyes from hers. "We all were, but... but we had no one who knew of your injuries. No one who knew what to do..." He touched his forehead to her side, and she could hear him steadying his breathing. "We knew you would know but you didn't wake. Dwalin said you told him you'd be fine in a day of rest, but you weren't. And you aren't." He rubbed his eyes and sharply exhaled. "I felt useless. You constantly tried to fix me up, knowing so much more about healing than this lot put together. And I couldn't do anything but watch."

She softly stroked his hair, guilt pouring out of her. The way she felt with Ori asking her to sing for him was the same way she felt now; protective. Wanting to take away any fear that was lingering in their hearts.

"I didn't want to lose you."

She fought to keep her eyes open, but she could feel herself slipping back. Her hand felt numb, and slowly fell from Kili's hair. He looked up suddenly to watch her breathing slow. She could tell he was worried, and horrified, but he didn't move from her side. He quickly grasped her hand in his and held it to his face. "Please promise me you'll wake up," he whispered, tears moving free from his eyes.

I will.

But it was only thoughts she hoped would land in his mind, because her tongue filled with sand as her eyes finally weighed down.

When she awoke, the light in the room was warm and deep, and she concluded it must've been midday. She turned her head to see the stool was empty, and the medicines on the table had been moved and used. On her hands were fresh bandages, stark white, with only a bit of red. The sheets had been pulled back so only a light blanket covered her body, and a small fire was lit in the place across the room. She smacked her lips and found they were chapped, and she were very parched. On the table, she saw a metal cup nearly filled with water. She reached for it, having to use both hands, and brought the edge to her lips.

As she were about to drink, the door swung open, causing her to cough the water and drop the chalice with a clatter. The Dwarf at the door jumped too, and looked to see her half sitting up, covered in her drink.

"Y/N!" Kili said, rushing to her side. "You can't be lifting things. Even little things," he ordered, grabbing a rag to dry her off.

A little laugh came out, as he dabbed her shoulders and face.

He tried to suppress a smile too. "I brought some soup. I'm not the best cook but I tried." He laid a serving table over her lap, as she shifted carefully to fully sit up and lean against the headboard.

He placed a new cup of water and the bowl and took a wooden spoon. "Do I need to make it an eagle or will you let me feed you?" She knitted her brows together and reached for the utensil. But he pulled it from her reach. "The soup will be more unpleasant to wipe away than the water."

Allowing him to feed her, and focusing on just swallowing, she felt your arms and legs lose their ache. Her head stopped pounding, and she didn't need to lean against the headboard. Kili noticed as well, looking much brighter than before, but he didn't ask her to do anything but eat.

The rest of the day was filled with visitors, all trying something to help her. Bilbo was helping her regain strength in her arms and hands, having her do exercises like bending her elbow and making a fist around a pen. Bofur brought up instruments and played for her, but she didn't have the heart to tell him it hurt to see him playing. Dwalin was helping her walk, now that her feet were better. He would hold a hand and guide her around, catching should she fall. And Balin came in last, giving her a newly carved cane.

He placed it next to your bed, as she was about to sleep, and smiled. "You're a true warrior, lass. No one else would be able to do what you did."

She accepted his compliment and motioned for him to come closer. She mimed a grumpy and burly man, puffing out her chest and circling a finger around her head.

"Thorin?" Balin questioned, unsure of what she was trying to say.

She nodded.

"Ah." He sat down, looking much grimmer than usual. "You're wondering where he is."

She raised a brow, suddenly worried.

"Thorin is... he's sick." Before she could mime more, he held up a hand to stop her. "It's the gold. I think he may have dragon sickness."

The next day, she stood overlooking the treasure horde, cane in hand to keep herself standing. "How long has he been pacing?" she asked, her voice stronger but rough with work.

"At least three hours today," Bilbo replied, as they watched from a faraway bridge.

She shifted her grip on the cane in her palms, as she sat to have her feet hang lifeless over the edge. Her hands were still bandaged but her head and outer throat injuries had healed completely thanks to Oin's medicine and care. Bilbo was taking her on her longest walk so far. Down through the sleeping chambers, passed the barracks, by the kitchen, around the outer wall, and now near the treasury.

"Has he slept?"

"Not if he can help it. Sometimes he doses off on the examining table looking at the rubies." He handed her a cup of herbal tea, filled with antioxidants and soothing remedies. She sipped slowly, focusing on it slipping down her throat, while watching as Thorin rubbed his hand across the mountains of coins and gems.

"Has anyone tried talking to him?" She set down the cup, half empty, and pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve. She coughed a few times, noticing how the blood was almost nonexistent, and folded the cloth in her lap.

Before Bilbo could voice his concern, the sound of her cough had carried far enough through the halls to reach Thorin, who looked up in her direction. She couldn't make out much of his details from so far away, but his figure did seem to stand taller and prouder than before. No longer hunched like an animal, but straight and upright like a king. He gave a wave for her and Bilbo to join him, to which Bilbo groaned. "If he tries to get you to look for the Arkenstone as well, I swear on my great-grandfathers grave—"

She held a hand to silence him, but he absentmindedly helped her from the ground. "He wouldn't ask such a thing in my state. Look at me. I'm the most pathetic I've ever been. Surely he can't enjoy the cruelties of watching me hobble from pile to pile."

Bilbo laughed as she leaned from him into her cane, but it was humorless at best. His own eyes had begun to sink into his head, with his worry lines deepening with each look between her and Oakenshield. While she had made tremendous progress, she wasn’t the Hobbit he had known for the many months on this journey. He was respectful enough to not insist on giving his arm, but still walked closely with one always floating behind her back. When it came to the steps, she held the wall with on hand and carefully moved down each landing, placing her cane in front first.

Thorin met them both at the bottom, his eyes twinkling happily. "Miss Y/N! You're walking even better than before."

He gave her a big hug, which she noted was very unlike him. Laughing a bit, as he lifted her from the ground, she said, "That is not a very larger scale of my improvement. I couldn't very well walk before."

He set her down and gave a soft nod to Bilbo, who responded with a tight smile. "Has Master Baggins been treating you respectfully?"

She was taken aback by his choice of words, laughing once more. "Of course, Thorin. Do you instead mean to ask if he is simply taking care of me?"

He laughed, and it sounded unlike him; detached and cruel. "No, Miss Y/N. I can only assume what he has been influence by, due to the company."

Eyes widening, she looked to Bilbo, who seemed even more hopeless with Thorin's condition. "I appreciate your concern but should anything of the Dwarves be rubbed to Bilbo I would find no fault in this. Everyone in the company is very loyal and honest and respectful."

Thorin clicked his tongue, and he shook his head. "My dear Hobbit... when the time comes, I must confide in you something of great importance." He waved his hand, dismissing them from his sight, and returned to his business of searching and counting the jewels.

“What has gotten into him?” she whispered to her friend, concern ever-growing in her chest. “I’ve never heard him say something so callous about the Dwarves.”

“This gold is cursed!” he hissed back, glancing over his shoulder to see if Thorin was listening. “He seeks the Arkenstone, and the search is driving him to the brink.” He guided them through the hall, until their feet no longer stepped on coins and the halls were lined with the quiet light form the morn.

“But we lost that in the fight with Smaug,” she retorted, catching a strange look on Bilbo’s face. “We lost it, right?”

“I may have grabbed it before grabbing you,” he admitted, running his fingers over his trouser pockets.

She stopped in her tracks, cane tapping against the ground in anger. “Bilbo, are you mad!? You’ve gone and stolen it?” She pinched her nose, having great difficulty thinking about all the events that transpired right under her nose. “I suppose you were hired to burgle, but I’d never think a Hobbit such as yourself would steal a birthright from a ruler.”  

“No! No, I just… Y/N, you did not see him when he entered in after us.” His face was deep with worry, running a hand through his messy hair. “The very thought that I had failed made him point a sword at me.”

She was taken aback, trying to remember the fuzzy details of that night. “What? You mean he threatened you?” She did recall how they had paused on the steps, but how their voices were so muddled.

Bilbo cocked his head, shrugging his shoulders. “Well, it was like a threat without outright threatening me. He was angry at your state; telling me that I had failed at protecting you, and then he tried to prevent me from escaping Smaug after I ignored his questions about the stone.” He guided her over to the golden hall, when Smaug had escaped through the front wall. “And not just that. Look.”

She did, looking between him and the badly patched up door. It was rudimentary, truly, but a dragon had destroyed it and she could hardly blame the quick craftmanship. “And?”

“And...” He pointed through a small hole, allowing them to look out on the world, and at the City of Dane. “The people of Lake-Town have been stranded here, come to ask for their share of the treasure to rebuild. And Thorin has called them robbers and sent them on their way.”

She pushed him aside, peering through the makeshift window at the snow-covered town, with pitiful smoke from campfires rising into the air. “But they’ve nothing now. Winter is upon us all, and there be plenty of room to house them until spring.”

“Not just that. Our friend, King Thranduil, is out there as well, with a complete army at his beck and call.”

She turned and saw the line of gold armored Elves up on the rolling hills, standing in formation, pointed directly at the mountain. “Oh, good gods. They’re here for the gems?” The figure of the king strode about the distance, atop a large deer with silver armor on his body. “Oakenshield didn’t even want to give them in exchange for our lives out of spite.”

“Thorin refuses to let anything go.” Bilbo sighed, toying at the gem in his pocket. “I am leaving tonight. I am going to the Thranduil to give him the stone.”

Her face paled. “You’ve really gone completely mental. Thorin would have your head if he ever found out you even had such a thought. I’m not even too pleased myself.” She tapped her cane against his foot, causing him to yelp and jump back. “What is going on in that big head of yours, for surely it is not rational thinking.”

“The Elves want their jewels and Thorin wants the stone. Maybe if the king offers it to him, war can be avoided.” Bilbo held her arms, looking her directly in the eye, stern and serious. It was the most serious he had ever been in addressing her, and her pupils widened. “A war. We are at war because he has gone mad.”

Her shoulders slumped, her grip on her cane tightening. “I know. I know, he has.” In a flash, she hit him on the foot again, breaking his grasp as he clutched his now bruising toes. Straightening herself out, she looked through the corner of her eyes, and small smile on her face. “There is not much I can say to stop you, is there?”

He scoffed, limping slightly. “I’m afraid not.”

She pulled him into a hug, careful not to knock him again with her walking stick. “Be careful,” she whispered to him, arms wrapped around his neck and a hand tangled in his hair.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling a shaky breath. “I will.”

“This may be the last time I see you.”

“Never. I am not leaving the company. I’ve… grown rather fond of them.”

“Should Thorin find out what you’ve done, he will become very dangerous.”

Bilbo ran a hand through her hair, taken from her braid and let loose the flow freely down her back. He noted how soft it was, and how warm she felt in his arms. “I will return.” But he said that mostly for himself than for anyone else. “You’ve my word.”

“Ha. Men and their words.” She rolled her eyes and tightened her grip. “Promise me on nothing but the truth.”

“I promise.”

That night, while Bofur stood guard, Bilbo slipped from the rafters and down a rope positioned down to the water below. She only assumed the standing Dwarf had been made aware of his departure, but not his intentions, for the only words she could catch between them were their goodbyes. She watched from the base of the blocked up wall, silently praying for his safe journey and return.

“Ah, there you are,” said a voice. She turned to see Thorin, in his kingly gowns still, completed with rings on every finger. “I had expected you in the library, but I suppose you’d want to stretch your legs.” He held a hand out to her. “Come, I need to speak to you in… confidence.” His eyes lingered over Bofur, who continued to look out into the night.

She took his hand, and stumbled as he quickly pulled her arm to wrap around his. It was clear he didn’t want her to use her cane, and instead rely on him for stability. She chuckled nervously and began to walk along his side. “Is everything quite alright, Thorin?”

“Well, to start, I want to apologize for my behavior,” he said, voice low and light with cheer. “It is not the way I wish you to perceive me.”

“And how do you wish I see you?”

He stopped, pulling her away so she may look upon him. “A king.”

She tried to humor him and look at him with new eyes. But, if anything, he looked like he was wearing a costume, performing about. “I always saw you as a king. More than I could now with your ensemble.”

His smile faded as he looked down at himself. “Do you not care for it?”

“It seems very… expensive. But you know I am not one for riches or silks. You even tried to forbade me from wearing a gifted cloak on account it could be ruined—”

“To which you revealed you yourself had already ruined it.” They shared a laugh, and the eerie tone upon them lessened. “Yes, I should’ve known. You are humble. Generous. And very kind.” He continued walking, hands behind his back with his head high to the halls. “I feel I have lost sight of what we were discussing. I want to apologize.”

“You’ve said that twice now, sir,” she told him giggling, taking her own pace so that he would slow down to be by her side. “Careful, I may mistake your words as sorrowful.”

Suddenly, he pulled her aside, causing her to drop her cane as he hid them behind a wall. “I must confide in you something mischievous afoot,” he whispered, low and close to her. “I fear the Arkenstone has been discovered already and is in possession of one of the company.”

Y/N did not have to feign her surprise. She thought of Bilbo being caught and a gasp escaped on its own. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. One of them has taken it. You and Bilbo are the only ones I can trust.”

If she had to choose between facing another dragon, readying his jaws to snap, or hearing Thorin admit that he thought the two people conniving against him were his only friends, she would choose the former. “Surely you don’t mean that.”

“I do.” He leaned in, a hand lifting her chin to raise her gaze. “You are a remarkable woman, Y/N. You’ve much fight and spirit. Whether you had seen it this way, you have become something of a leader yourself.”

Her fingers splayed across the wall to keep her upright, her weight pressed against it as he continued to move closer. “Much thanks, but why are you telling me this?”

The back of his hand brushed the hair from her face, lightly caressing down her face. “You are very dear to me. You say you worry about staying in this place as a guest.” He leaned close, his mouth brushing over the shell of her ear. “Would you stay as a rightful ruler?”

Her knees began to buckle, but not in the way she had felt that night by the stream, when she came so close to him. But instead the way she felt at the pub, when the man alluded to being unaccepting of a no. “Thorin, I am no ruler.”

“I could teach you… There are many things I can teach you.” His left hand ran up her side, toying with the fabric of her shirt tucked into the band of her skirt. “You distract me. Enrage me. Engulf me.” He pinched the shirt between his fingers, lightly pulling it until the hem had escaped and a small portion of her side was exposed. “Seduce me.”

“Thorin… Thorin, you are not well.” She tried to step aside, but his hand remained at her waist, keeping her still. “Thorin, please.”

His breath was hot against her skin, his lips on the vein of her neck. “Such meek words falling from a proud woman’s lips. This is the most I’ve heard you say my name, and my name only. I want to hear it again.”

“Oi! What are you doing?”

Thorin was ripped from her, removing the one thing keeping her upright and allowing her to sink to the floor. She let out a deep breath, placing a hand on her neck to cover where he had been touching. Her body racked with tremors, staring straight ahead at the two pairs of shoes.

Bofur turned his king around, looking incredulously at him. But the king held himself as if he did nothing wrong. “What are you doing?” he questioned, straightening his fur coat. “Shouldn’t you be on watch?”

“I just got off. What were you doing to her?” he demanded, looking behind to see her. She refused to meet his gaze, instead holding herself tight.

“She dropped her cane,” Thorin answered coolly. “She wanted to rest against the wall and I was helping her stand.”

Bofur looked shocked. “Is… is that true?” he asked her, keeping his eyes on his leader.

Thorin turned around, raising a brow at her. “Is it not?”

She gulped, using the wall to help her climb back to a stand. She made no move for her cane, as it was closer to Thorin than it was to her. “I feel tired.” Quickly, she tucked her shirt, holding it tightly in on her hips. “I should return to my room.”

Bofur pushed passed his king, making way to her. As he did, she could see the darkening look on Thorin’s face, the one she had seen when he spoke of distrust among his company. “You can tell me the truth.”

“Nothing happened!” she exclaimed, holding her arms straight to stop him from getting any closer. She wasn’t sure if she was saying it to protect Thorin, knowing he was under some sort of terrible spell, or to protect herself. Knowing she would not—could not—accept that he was capable of doing such a thing of his own right mind and volition. But the debate on whether he was in control was beyond her cares. It happened and for the first time since meeting him, in presence of his anger and stubbornness, she was frightened. “Please, just let me go to bed,” she pleaded, keeping her voice low. Before she turned, keeping her words airy and without use of her voice, she said, “He is very sick.”

She bowed her head, excusing herself and ignoring the pleas of Bofur, and took her leave. The adrenaline of the entire interaction made her feel completely numb of her injuries. Her feet carried her as fast as they could, up her many flights of stairs and into her room, where she locked the door behind her. She kept her back pressed to the frame, breathing heavily in her sudden privations. It was not long before knocking came, causing her to jump away and press her hips against the foot of the bed.

“Y/N, open the door,” Bofur insisted, trying the handle to no avail.

“I am tired; please leave me,” she croaked, feeling mixed tears stream down her face. For she was exhausted, sore, pained, and wronged. All that could comfort her now was herself, and each check and prod was preventing her from even having that.

He tried again, knocking the middle of the wood once more. “You can tell me the truth, please open the door.”

“I said, NO!” she shouted, grabbing her sword from its dusty corner. “If I need to say that word more than once again tonight you shall all know of the ruin I can bring!” She slashed at the awning above her bed, letting the wood split clean and clatter on the hard floor. “Dwarves can either be chivalrous or stubborn, but-- mercy be upon you—you cannot be both!” She sliced again, cutting through her pillows and bedding. She continued to scream and cry, swinging her blade with true abandon and rage, until not a thing in her room remained intact.

“Am I not allowed my grief?” she demanded, pointing her sword at the locked door. “Am I not allowed my madness? You want the truth, Master Dwarf? I have given my fair share of forgiving and I’ve run out!” She slashed at the door, chipping away the carefully carved designs and rattling it on its hinges. “I am done letting such acts of pride go! Should another person touch that door tonight they will not have the hands to offend me again!”

She stabbed her blade into the wood portion of the floor, collapsing to her knees, holding tight the handle to keep her up. “So leave…” she sobbed. “Just leave me be.”

There she stayed, dozing in and out of a terrible night’s sleep, with pillow stuffing and shredded furniture surrounding her. In spite of it all, she was able to manage the slightest of shut eye, and she heard no knock or voice come her way. And while she lamented over her actions, her words, and her wants, she was mostly pleased at being granted something all of her own, for once in the past several months—her wishes.