Hello Everybody :)

Welcome to my first fanfiction. This story is a repost for I did not manage to upload for quite a time, so here we go again. I hope you'll enjoy reading, please be so kind and leave a review for me :)

Chapter one: The tale of the boy in the shadows

Night was close. The last rays of sunlight vanished behind the mountains far on the horizon. It grew colder, even though it was still quite mild for the season. The lands between the Misty Mountains and the Shire were rough, uninhabited and wild for most parts, animals roamed the plains and great meadows unchallenged by men. The great eastern road followed through these lands and led to the small cities of Hobbits and the Ered Luin where the Dwarfs dwelled as of late.

Thorin had been on his way to the settlements of his people when he had been overtaken by a group of men. He had been about to prepare a camp to stay for the night. He had come from the great cities of men down in Gondor and desperately wanted to see his family again, the men had simply outnumbered him. Of course, he had put up a good fight, but still he had been captivated, killing four of his attackers on the way. Nine still remained, however, and now he lay in a pool of mud at the trunk of a tree, his hands bound on his back and a deep gash on his shoulder. It was bleeding and though he was not going to die of it, it still pained him a lot. He wondered if the men even knew who he was or if they were interested in getting his name. After tying him up they had settled around his fire, passing his ale from hand to hand, grinning malevolently at him and insulting him. Hatred shot through his veins, if he was free he would show them how to treat him properly. After all, he was a prince! But he pressed his lips firmly together, ignoring the brutes as best as he could. He had tried to get rid of the ropes that held him to the tree, but it was of no use. He could not free himself. There was little chance that somebody would come along the road to help him, his situation was not good. Not good at all. He shut his eyes in defeat. His shoulder throbbed at every move and anger clouded his mind. Five of the laughing men around the fire he had wounded as well. What they were after he did not know. He owned nothing except for his clothes and his axe. The pony he had purchased in Minas Tirith was a thin one, and without value. So they consumed his food and drink and shot him evil glances.

"I thought dwarves to be rich... lots of gold and jewels... and stuff. But this one is as poor a soul as we are... Damn it! At least we have a nice meal... But what to do with him?" one of the men asked.

"Die he must... to pay for the deaths of our comrades, I dare say. He's a dwarf... nothing more." another replied and right he was. Though it pained him Thorin had to admit that his life was worth little out here. Men and Elves did not care for his race and if he was killed the murderer was not likely to be punished. So that was his fate, he would find his end in the wild at the hands of outlaws. He was not to see his sister or his nephews again.

A brush against the skin of his wrist pulled him out of his reverie. A hand touched his, felt his swollen flesh and the rope that caused his hands to ache. Only a second later he heard a low whisper in his ear, the warmth of breath causing his cheeks to tingle.

"I shall free you now." the voice told him. "Stay where you are and wait for me to show up. Flee and don't look back if it goes ill with me!" a swift cut loosened the bond and he felt the hilt of a dagger in his palm. He clutched it tightly and waited as he was told. It took some more minutes when singing was heard and footsteps fell on the road. The men around the fire looked up alerted and drew their weapons. On the road a small figure appeared, leading a pony along and singing. When the light of the fire illuminated the stranger the men relaxed again. The dwarf also looked upon the stranger and did not believe his eyes. It was a boy, small and thin, barely off age with long, raven-black hair and a beardless, pale face. His eyes were as dark as his hair and held a distant fire that burned cold and dangerously as far as Thorin could tell. He wore a leather garment of brownish colour, his travelling cloak was torn and dirty. A sword was sheathed on his belt and a bow clung to his back, along with a quiver full of dark arrows.

"Good evening, laddie!" one of the men welcomed the boy. "You gave us a scare, young one. A pup like yourself shouldn't be travelling alone out here in the dark... You could end up... in trouble!" the speaker grinned wickedly. "But I will take care of you, pup!" and he made a step closer to the boy who froze in his place.

"I am not defenseless, as you see." he took his bow and showed it to the men.

"What are you doing out here on your own? Isn't your mother worried?" the men started laughing and went back to drinking. The boy looked to the dwarf and flashed him a smile.

"Funny you are... I saw the fire and was curious... Tell me, why is it that you hold the dwarf captive?" he gave a nod to him. The man narrowed his eyes as he watched the dwarf.

"Tried to rob us, the bastard."

"I wish I could believe in you..." he sighed. "You will free him and grant us save passage or I shall kill you... am I understood?" For a short moment the men all stared at the boy, as well as the dwarf. What was the youngling thinking? The brutes would kill him... Than the men started laughing and rose. "You will kill us? Watch out what you say, pup. We will not set him free, he is to die. If you want him, come and claim him!"

"Oh, that I will do. I warned you. You had your chance!" and with one movement and faster as the ale-blurred visions of the men could muster the boy put two arrows on the string and killed two of the men with one blow. Two more arrows did the same and the remaining five approached him with screams of fury. He let go of the bow and drew his sword. "Elendil!" he whispered and ducked a blow only to strike another attacker down. As soon as all men focused on the boy Thorin got up and struggled to get to his feet. When he looked at the boy again he was surprised to see only three men standing and fighting with the lad who had some talent with bow and blade unquestioningly. The dwarf moved forward to support the boy in fighting, yet the wound hindered him more than he would have thought. One of the remaining men saw him and forced an attack on him instead. The boy cursed under his breath and threw his sword at the man, hitting him in the back and killing him immediately. He was now without a weapon and still faced two men, both launching forward to hit him. He avoided being hit with a duck and a turn and stumbled when one of the blades cut his upper arm slightly. He looked up and saw the sword coming down on him, he closed his eyes. But the blow never came. The dwarf had stopped the blade with the dagger the boy had given him and pierced the man with the sword the boy had thrown at the other. Fierce determination in his eyes made the last man standing retreat. Yet he was not spared. Breathing heavily, Thorin turned round to face the boy who got to his feet with a swift movement. He was just a bit taller than the dwarf and looked at him curiously. The boy bowed low and remained with his head down, though he glanced at the dwarf.

"Thank you for saving my life. My name is Del, son of Dhal. I'm at your service."

"Look up, Del, son of Dhal. I should be thanking you, for you freed me from my perilous situation. I'm Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. And I am definitely at your service!" Del did as he was told and looked directly at Thorin.

"Still you saved me. And I am grateful. We should not linger here. If you just allow me, I know a shelter nearby. And if you would have me let a look at your shoulder I could offer to mend it. Are you willing to come along, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, heir of Durin?" the dwarf was astonished at the respectful tone of the young one and the title he used for him. It spoke of knowledge that did not fit with his bodily appearance. Yet he had no reason not to accept the offer and nodded.

"Lead the way, Del. I shall gladly follow. I'm sore." the boy gave him another shy smile and got his pony. Thorin collected his belongings and mounted his pony. Obviously the boy had heard his name before, but his face did not show what he thought about him. The dwarf prince knew that the lad would not have needed help if he had not tried to fight despite his state. Without him he would have finished the men off single handedly. He knew his ways and Thorin was more than impressed by the little one. Del watched Thorin carefully as he got his things ready. So this was the prince of the line of Durin who had lead his people to the Blue Mountains after their home had been taken by the dragon Smaug. His clothes were worn and now cut and bloodstained. He had long, black hair with few slim braids and a matching beard. His eyes were stern and proud and of blue colour. Del liked his looks. Even if he had not known his name he would have guessed to face royalty. They took off and he lead the way.

"Where are we heading to?" the dwarf asked.

"To a friend of mine. Belladonna Took. She will provide us with medicine, food and a warm place to stay... We're close... your injury..." he left the sentence unfinished. He did not want to imply that Thorin was weakened to a point where he could not journey on.

"I will last, for move I must." Del had expected no less. They had nearly reached their destination when he realized that Thorin could not move along on his own. Before he could say something to object Del flung himself off his pony and mounted up behind Thorin, urging his pony on. He held the dwarf pressed to him to prevent him from falling down. Just when the small lit windows of the little house they rode toward came into view Thorin fell unconscious. He was quite heavy for Del's thin body and he had to push hard to hold him upright. In front of the round door he slid down from behind Thorin and pulled him with him and let him sink to the ground. Del knocked on the door and waited.