So I am slowly getting back into this story and of course that means a rewrite. A friend bought me the extended edition of the first film and while watching it I got an entirely new idea that I couldn't help but build upon. For those that have been along for the ride already, you will notice bits in this chapter that are familiar. I pretty much copied and paste the bits that still worked and added everything else. Now, enough babbling, let's read (:

As Thorin had believed, there was a cave nearby, and the dwarves were quick to search it. There were things of little value and things of great value to be found. The stench of rot crawled through the cave and clung to nearly everything within it. The company more than once stepped upon or tripped over scattered bones. Bilbo had done the latter as he entered; he quickly decided venturing any further in was not of interest to him. The cave was dark and dank and stuffy. The dwarves and Gandalf chose to remain inside the cave, rummaging through the objects the trolls had stashed away. It was a short time later when he could hear Thorin ordering the others to keep moving. The company exited, some carrying weapons, objects. Bifur had brought out the skull of a male deer, handing it over to Kili. The young dwarf was unsure of what to do, so he just held on to it until Bifur had walked away, then set it down. Bilbo looked back to the cave's entrance to see Gandalf and Thorin returning to the fresh air. Both carried weapons; longswords. Bilbo was certain they were of elven-make. As the wizard approached the hobbit, he revealed a small sword. A dagger; though, in Bilbo's hands it appeared to be a sword. He studied the

markings on the blade as the company began gathering their things, ready to continue on.

There was a great cry from within the cave and all eyes turned quickly to its entrance. It went unnoticed that one of their company was missing. As the dwarves, wizard, and hobbit rushed into the cave they searched for the source of the cry. There was a shout for help and all recognized the voice.

"Ori!" many called out. "Ori, where are you?"

Fili and Kili were the firsts to discover him. The poor dwarf had fallen to the ground, crawling back on all fours as he fought to tear his eyes from the sight before him. All stopped as they approached a sharp corner in the cave in which a great shape protruded. Those that held torches did what they could to light the dark corner.

Ori began, stammering, that he had only wanted to see what was inside, thinking it to be treasure. "It gave way, Gandalf!" he said, looking up to the grey wizard as he made his way through the group. "Look! Look what is inside!" His eyes fell back upon the strange object.

Thorin stepped forward, following after Gandalf, as Ori was finally helped up. But Ori remained in his spot once standing, his face full of fear and worry. He could even be seen leaning forward, trying to catch a better glimpse inside the large object. Bilbo, ever growing unable to fight the interest within himself, pushed his way to the front so that he may get a better look at what had scared Ori so. He saw there, reaching out from the wall of the cave, what appeared to be an old wooden boat. But it was fully enclosed, as if it had been covered with a second boar. Bars of iron wrapped all around it, covered in a script and design he had never seen before and which looked nothing alike to any that he knew. Resting on the ground was a large chunk from the side, its inner wall blackened. Bilbo looked over to Ori, seeing that he cradled a hand, a trickle of blood coming from it. The dwarf had tried prying the piece away when he saw that a part of the wood had begun to splinter.

Bilbo could not understand why the others stared so strangely; though he had come forward, he most certainly did not go as near to it as Gandalf and Thorin had. Thorin asked the wizard quiet questions. He'd seen what was inside. Gandalf offered him on answers though. He had seen what was held within the peculiar box and would not step any closer to it.

Bilbo clenched his fists for strength and came to stand behind Thorin, to see inside this strange container. He then understood the hush that had fallen over the company. Little could be seen of the inside, it covered in shadows, but there was no mistaking what Bilbo saw. Draped in dark fabrics and aged leather he could see the bend of an elbow, an arm resting upon a chest, a hand gripping a missing sword.

"Gandalf," Thorin spoke lowly, "what is this?" He looked up to the wizard, but Gandalf only stared on in worry and wonder, unbelieving.

"Is it…" Bilbo began to say, swallowing deeply as he, too, continued to stare. What…who was this being? And why did Gandalf not speak? "Is he dead?"

"No."

The group was rattled from their watch, backs turning with haste to this…coffin. Many reached for their weapons, the strength now returned to them. They looked to the stranger that stood at the entrance of the cave. He held a longsword in one hand, its tip dug into the dirt as he leaned against it with defeat. His hair was curled and close to his head, a rich brown hue. He looked young, yet there were creases on his face and his eyes appeared a faded grey. His dressing was queer; he wore dark colors, a long and weathered sleeveless tunic over clothes many would have mistaken for that of a Ranger. His voice was foreign, a tone akin, if anything, to the earth itself. He looked past the dwarves, to the object that had been disturbed. His eyes traveled to Gandalf and he saw there that the wizard knew what he looked upon, though even the wizard questioned his sight.

"She isn't dead," the stranger spoke. "She sleeps." He sheathed the sword he carried, advancing on the group with slow, tired steps. Still, the others stood at the ready. He approached the boat and looked within, stretching a hand out to skim over the splintered wood. He looked down at his feet, to the piece that was broken, before turning to look over those that surrounded him. "She'll be waking now." There was a weary sadness to his voice.

He began sturdily tearing at the wooden container, as if it was merely fabric, dropping the pieces at his feet, leaving behind gnarled and twisted iron. At last he reached in, grunting as he pulled the form of a small woman out and into his arms. The stranger looked over those gathered once more and then carried the woman out from the cave. He continued on into the forest. He would take her to the remains of the home he had seen at the forest's edge. A farmer and his family had lived there once, he recalled. He had seen them before, but now they were gone, the house in ruins.

"Quickly!" Gandalf hissed once the man had gone from sight, collecting himself. He followed after. None had seen Gandalf rattled so. With few words, they all followed with haste. Only Thorin had the voice to ask why it was they followed after this stranger and who was it that he carried. He met with Gandalf at the end of the forest, the ruined home in sight. The stranger could be seen moving behind the walls.

"Gandalf," Thorin said, his eyes remaining on the house. "Who is this stranger? Who is the woman?"

But the wizard only shook his head, gripping his staff tightly as he continued on. Behind the remaining walls of the home the stranger had lowered the woman into a corner and was busy rummaging. It was unknown what he searched for.

"They are myth," spoke Gandalf, a wonder in his voice.

They stood back as the man made a space around the woman he had placed in the corner. It was then that the others were finally able to look upon her. Her hair was darker than the night, her skin the warmth one felt from the sun, though, as she lied there, a paleness held to her. Her face was sharp, having a cruelness about it, a hardship. The hands that lay lax spread out like fingers of a spider. Her clothing, as with the man's, was queer. She did not wear what any of the company thought proper for a woman. The clothing was similar to the man's, but much finer. Over the large tunic she wore a leather coat, the collar outlined in dark feathers. If not for her face and the body shape hidden under the coat, one would have mistaken her for a man. All over the material that covered her were emblazoned feathers, looking as if they were falling from a black background. Striking out from under the thin armor over her chest was the battled head of a raven, the tips of its outspread wings just visible.

Aramil smiled sadly. "Real. She is very real." The man looked back behind to the others. At this, Gandalf introduced all in the company. "Where is it you travel, friends?" Thorin did not answer, turning to the others, ensuring they, too, wouldn't answer. But Gandalf spoke of their journey, saying that they traveled to the mountain. Thorin clenched his fists, only relaxing them when Gandalf made no mention of Smaug, reclaiming the throne, or the Arkenstone. Aramil nodded lightly, in thought. "I remember Erebor, but only in passing. I have not traveled in a long time." He chuckled.

"Have you been here?" Bilbo asked, the shock not hiding from his tone. Aramil nodded. "How long?"

The hobbit sputtered. "I—I'm not—what if she wakes?"

Aramil laughed. "Not this soon." He looked back to the woman on the ground, a regret in his eyes. "She must find her way back first and that will…take time." He spoke to Gandalf. Thorin listened as he spoke while another dwarf, Balin, came forward. "I would have words with you."

The wizard followed after Aramil. With a nod from Thorin, Balin and he followed as well. Aramil looked to the two. The thoughts could be seen running through his mind. He said nothing of their following him. He walked from the shelled home, the three trailing behind. Out in the field he stopped, away from the rest of the company, but still in their sight. He could see the hobbit, Bilbo, and a few of the others carefully approach the woman. He smiled faintly, knowing well of their curiosity and fear.

It was Gandalf who broke the silence, his eyes, too, on the same sight. Balin followed their gaze, but Thorin studied the man. "So you are not myth," Gandalf said with a wearied breath. The wizard could feel as Thorin and Balin looked up to him with questioning. He thought of how to explain what it was they looked upon. "We all have our tales, do we not?" he said, that glint of a spark in his eyes. "Of things thought never to exist." He shook his head. "I do not recall ever knowing what they were called, but I remember your kind. One only mentioned in fairy tales." He turned back sadly to Aramil. "And I remember the only tale ever told, but never written."

"The fall of Vidari," spoke Aramil.

"But not such great of a fall," said Gandalf, his head cocked to the side.

Aramil's head rocked back slightly as he held a scoff in. "Or perhaps much further." Again, Thorin saw the regret that etched the man's face.

"Is she elven?" asked Balin, but Gandalf shook his head. Though their appearance would lead one to believe so, neither were of the same stature of elves.

"There is no word for what they are," he answered. He looked to Aramil. "Not in any tongue we could scarce understand."

"We are shadows, of a long forgotten time," said Aramil. "Nothing else, not anymore."

"I must speak with you, alone," Gandalf said to Aramil. He turned to Thorin and Balin, bidding they take leave. To return to the others and keep watch over this woman, this Vidari. The dwarves did not move at his words. Gandalf exhaled loudly, standing to his fullest height. "Go and make sure the others do not start poking her with sticks!" he exasperated.

Unwillingly, not trusting this newcomer, Thorin left with Balin. While the others had gathered around Vidari, he remained behind. But still watching. He would turn and look behind him, to the wizard and Aramil, seeing the two speaking. One moment in grace, in the other, effrontery. What was it they spoke of? And why in the name of Durin were they even still there? They should be moving again, not standing around in this field while Gandalf rattled off with this stranger and the other lied limp on the ground.

There was a commotion as Bofur stepped forward from the group, past Bilbo who had been standing nearest to the woman. Balin had given them the woman's name, but it did not quiet them. It only served to inflate their interest. Thorin cut through the group, calling to Bofur to stop where he stood. But the dwarf stepped forward. With an uncertain glance over his shoulder, Bofur reached out. Thorin rushed, grabbing onto his arm and yanking him back.

"Do not touch her!" he said harshly, eyes on the woman.

"Is there a spell over her?" asked Fili.

"Is that why she sleeps?" Kili asked.

"Look!" Bofur said quietly, pointing to the woman's skin. Its ashen tone had begun to give way, the warmth becoming unveiled. His face pleaded with Thorin to reach out once more. It was Bilbo who moved past them with quiet steps, his hand stretched out towards Vidari.

He breathed in deeply at the feel of warmth in her hands. He looked behind to the others. "She is warm," he said. And then Bilbo stood up and moved away with speed; they all did so. The woman took a great breath, it leaving her body slowly, as if a sigh.

The group raised a cry. Gandalf and Aramil were quick to make their way back to the others, the former scolding.

"She breathed!" the company said. "We saw it! Bilbo touched her hand and then she breathed! Yes, she breathed! She breathed!"

Aramil knelt before Vidari. He cupped her cheeks, turning her head about. He felt at her brow, her neck. Her hands were warming in his. Gandalf came to his side and raised a hand over Vidari's face. He watched intently for a sign of movement, but there was none.

"I do not know how long it will take," Aramil said, grabbing the ends of her coat, wrapping Vidari within. He turned to Gandalf at his side, his voice low. "What you spoke of, could it truly help?"

Gandalf looked over to Thorin, who had come forward once more, not liking how the two whispered. "I do not know the extent of the damage—if there is any at all, but yes, if help is possible, it will be given."

"What deals have you made?" Thorin demanded of Gandalf.

Gandalf stood, looking to the company. "We camp here again tonight." He began telling the others to do this or that. To find some game or to scout the area, make sure there were no others upon them.

"Gandalf!" Thorin spoke loudly. "Who are they that you cower before them, even the one that lies half dead?" The great dwarven king in exile turned swiftly as he heard someone laughing. His eyes fell onto Aramil.

"She is the raven, Thorin Oakenshield. She does not forget. She does not forgive." His eyes fell over Vidari. "And when she wakes, you will hear her tale." His head lowered. "And you will pity her."

There was an unsettled air about the group as they sat and waited. Kili and Fili had returned from their scouting, having found nothing. They did return with three conies though and Bombur was quick to get them into a stew. They sat and ate in small groupings, eyes always pulling them back to the house. In such a small company, it only took one whisper for the word to travel to all that the woman, Vidari, had taken another breath. And another and so on, until finally as the afternoon came to pass, the rise and fall of her chest could be seen steadily. It was at this time that Aramil excused himself from the party, returning to the troll cave. Gandalf kept vigil over Vidari.

The others were remaining outside the broken house, but still close enough that their eyes could see all. Thorin rose from his spot near the now fireless pit and came to the house. Gandalf sat on an old chest, staff in his hands as he stared unblinkingly at Vidari. She truly looked to be sleeping and Thorin spoke in a low voice without knowing.

"We should be far from here," he expressed. "Not two heavier in burden. I trusted you on that matter of our burglar, but now that trust is starting to run thin."

Though he did not look to Thorin, Gandalf smiled lightly, shoulders shaking just the slightest with a small chuckle. "If I believed them to be a burden we would not still be here." He muttered to himself words that Thorin could not catch.

"It is only by chance that we came across them."

"Chance? There are no chances in this world, Thorin Oakenshield. There is a reason for everything. Master Aramil has already said that when she wakes, you will have your tale, for it is not his to share." He became silent as Vidari took another deep breath. "And after that…we will continue on with this journey."

Thorin scowled. "With two greater." He looked down to Vidari's small form. "The wild is no place for a woman. She will slow us down, just as the hobbit does."

Gandalf rose, eyes on Thorin. His demeanor reminded the dwarf of that moment in Bilbo's hobbit hole, when the light had been sucked from the room. "I offer my aid to you in reclaiming your ancestral home. If you wish for that aid to continue you will trust my judgment." Thorin had looked away from the wizard, a sign of momentary defeat.

Evening had crept upon the sky when Aramil returned. In his arms he bore weaponry. Daggers and swords. He came to Gandalf and knelt before Vidari, asking of her.

"Her eyes move," the wizard told him. Behind her lids, they danced every which way. Aramil reached out to cup her face.

"The time is perhaps soon then," he said. Her skin was fully warm now. "They will hear cries," Aramil warned. "I will do what I can to subdue her. You must keep them from here."

Gandalf nodded and left, going to the dwarves and hobbit, ushering them away from the home. They all asked what was happening, if she was waking. Why couldn't they see? What was wrong? Kili had sidestepped and remained behind, craning his neck to see around Aramil. Gandalf pulled the dwarf prince away.

The companion could hear nothing as the night grew darker. But as the moon appeared in the sky a struggle emitted from the broken walls. Muffled cries of battle reached their ears. Many stood, though they could not move. Gandalf urged them all to remain where they were as he slowly stepped away. Thorin followed behind.

Coming closer, the cries grew louder, more painful. The corner in which Vidari had rested was empty. In the other corner though was a sight to send shivers down the spines of all. Aramil held onto Vidari, crouched above her. She shivered and breathed deeply, her mouth covered as she cried out in anger. She growled and thrashed while her body was racked with agony. It was like being reborn, but having to first pass through death. To relive it. Vidari gasped as she could feel the cold of ghost steel burst from her chest. She could feel as the second blade pierced her side. Another her back. But looking down, palms covering herself, she saw no sword or blood. Only the pain remained. She clutched at her throat, the cold of blade and blood upon her, though not seen. Aramil fought to keep her to the ground, pinning her side to the dirt floor. Vidari clutched fists of earth, pounded at it, as her cries grew silent. Her breathing erratic, she fought to gain control. As her muscles began to relax, Aramil released his violent hold upon her. He looked up to Gandalf and Thorin who stood at the far side of the home.

Vidari took one last deep breath, brushing a hand over her throat, feeling the slight rise in her skin. She laid on her side, staring at the broken walls of the home while taking slow breaths, her mouth hung slightly open. Her eyes began to wander, looking to the ground beneath her, to the shattered roof above her. All in a fragile wonder.

Her eyes raced over the area, falling upon Thorin. She stared up at him, eyes strained as if she was trying to remember him. But her mind was blank. She did not know who he was. She looked then to Gandalf, still unknowing. Looking behind her, she saw Aramil, who had lowered his head and would not meet her gaze. He remained kneeling before her as she rose on worn legs, steadying herself. She stood shorter then Aramil, such a small thing, but there was animal in her eyes.

She spoke few words in a tongue that was unknown. Her voice was soft and harsh, like smoke. She rubbed at her neck, throat sore, again feeling the slight scar that formed there. She grimaced, still trying to remember anything. Aramil shivered. He remembered little of their speech, but the words that Vidari repeated, those he could find no way to forget. It is over. It is all over.

Tentatively, he stepped towards Vidari. She looked to him with large eyes, taking a step back, gathering her cloak around her tensed body. "We thought you'd never wake," Aramil spoke softly to her with a warm smile. "Had me worried you did." Vidari could only look at him with confusion. Her eyes scanned over Gandalf and Thorin. "Don't you remember me?" Her eyes went back to Aramil. "It's me. It's me, Aramil."

"I…" Vidari shook her head. There were too many thoughts in her head, none holding any reason to her. "What…what happened?" she then asked. She cradled her head.

"The trolls, silly. Tried to turn us all into stew. But Gandalf saved us," Aramil answered her, looking over to the wizard. "You remember Gandalf, don't you? Our friend. And Thorin. And the others. Our friends. Don't you remember, they found us on the road." Vidari began to shake her head.

The sitting and waiting had gone on too long; the others were nearing. Their mixture of cautious and hurried steps all halted once their eyes came upon the woman. Gandalf saw their approach and spoke loudly, facing them.

"Vidari is fine. She is fine. Poor thing must have knocked her head when you lot were captured by the trolls. She does not remember a thing." His face warned them all to not say a word, only to accept his. As he turned back to face Vidari, he caught Thorin's glare. He ignored it.

Vidari had shrunk back from those that had gathered around her. Her face flashed in a mixture of fear and hostility. She spoke as if it pained her. "I don't remember. Anything."

Gandalf gave a weary sigh and smiled. "That's quite all right. I'm sure it will all return to you in time." The wizard looked over to Aramil as the man hid a grimace.

"Yes. In time."

"We can't have you feeling so lost, my dear," Gandalf told Vidari, stepping to the side. He motioned to the company. "Perhaps a second time will help the names stick, yes?" He smiled. "There we have Balin, Bombur and Bofur. Bifur, Oin, there's Gloin. Ah, and Dwalin. Ori, Nori, of course Dori. Bilbo, along with Fili and Kili." Gandalf turned back around, nodding to Thorin. "And you will recall Thorin, leader of our company. No? Well, those trolls were awfully rough."

Vidari stared at the company that surrounded her. None of the faces were familiar to her. Nor was this place. Not even the air. She looked with confusion to the dwarves and then Gandalf, noting her own short stature compared to him. Aramil stepped forward.

"They are dwarves, remember? And Bilbo, he's a hobbit. Come now silly, you'll remember it all soon."

Vidari nodded her head slowly. "Yes, silly me." She noted the dark sky above them. "Have I wasted time? Are we late?" She paused. "Where—where are we going?"

Aramil did not answer swiftly and so Gandalf came forward. "You were heading to Bree, did you not mention, Aramil?" The man nodded. "Yes, quite a storm came, few nights back. You two lost your way. But there was no worry, we came upon you and you travel with us now. We are going to the Lonely Mountain. To Erebor."

She nodded as if she understood, but no words made sense to Vidari. They served to confuse her further. Without realizing, she began to rub at her throat, feeling the scar across it. Her brow furrowed.

"Well, I think we should all get some rest for the night," Gandalf then spoke, loudly. Vidari lowered her hand and the wizard nodded. "We have quite the road ahead of us."

The company was ushered away from the remains of the stone house. Gandalf whispered heatedly to them, not allowing any to fall behind. Many turned to looked behind, to Vidari. She felt cold under their eyes.

Aramil came to her side softly. "We should sleep now. We'll have to keep moving in the morning."

Vidari stared harshly at him for a moment and then her face softened. "Of course," she replied, nodding. Aramil held an arm out, guiding her away from the house and towards where the others had made camp. She asked where their belongings were when she saw that the company had packs. Aramil told her they'd been crushed when the trolls got a hold of them. She nodded and took the information without question. It hurt her mind less to do so.

"Here, Vidari, come with me." Gandalf beckoned her over to him. "Let me see your head."

She faltered, but stepped to him at the edge of the camp. She looked away from him and tensed her shoulders as he held onto the sides of her head. He had closed his eyes, muttering under his breath. When he pulled away, has expression was expectant. But when Vidari continued to look to the ground, he sighed. "Find rest, child."

She kept to the edge of the company, watching as the others rolled out their bedding for the night. Some kept their gazes from her while others could not turn their eyes from her. Fili nudged his brother to look away when Vidari hung her head under Kili's stare.

With her head remaining down, Vidari backed away, her feet slowly leading her back to the battered farm house.

She did not belong here. That much she understood.

There we have it; right off from the start we have secrets being kept. Next chapter the dwarves will be questioning Aramil on Vidari and there'll also be some chaos courtesy of Fili and Kili (:

Reviews are appreciated!