I woke in my usual room at Bag End. It was still dark, but the warm air breezing in from the window told me that the sun would come to visit soon. I had no memory of getting here, but seeing as I was still wearing the clothes of the previous day I gathered that I had not put myself here. I would have to ask who it was, if I remember. Using the adjoining bathroom, I washed and dressed quickly in brown leggings, a beige shirt, my black corset/belt and matching knee-high boots.

I looked to the foot of my bed and there lay the pack, the one Gandalf had collected from the Old Took. I examined, it had everything I would need; a couple of spare leggings, a few shirts, soap, a brush and (most importantly, in my opinion) some spare underwear and socks – though the idea of the Old Took routing through my underwear drawer was slightly unnerving, I just hoped he had one of my aunts do it instead. The bag was a simple black leather and, though laden with the necessities in an appropriate quantity, there was still plenty of room left.

Beside the bag shone the handle of a magnificent sword, sheathed in charcoal leather. The pommel and hilt had been inlaid with precious stones, one of which I was certain was a rather large diamond, the thing must have cost an absolute fortune. The blade itself, once unsheathed, glittered in the light; thousands of tiny facets were cut into one side, creating a shimmering serrated edge whilst the other appeared plain, but was most definitely sharper than anything I had ever used before. It was not alone, there was also a marvellous matching bow, jewels gleaming in the wood. It was of such a size that, whilst it would be functional and no doubt of a long firing range, it would be easily concealed in a travelling cloak, no one would see the outline of it nor notice it unless they were touching it. A sheath of arrows were there too, and a note. It read:

Dearest Veyra,

It is my honour to give unto you weapons from your mother, she had left them with me a few years ago. They belonged to your father, though she would not tell me who he might be. She did, however, tell me that I am to give you these upon your first real adventure and that they would take you to him, if you so wish. Use them well.

Stay safe, young one.

Gerontius.

The Old Took seems to know far more than he lets on, but I suppose it is too late to ask anything of him now. The sun was nearing its awakening and there were distant sounds of the waking of the others in the bedrooms further along the hallway; quiet shuffling and stifled yawns.

I crept out of my bed chambers, bringing my possessions with me, as I made my way toward the kitchen where the smell of bacon was beginning to make itself known. The luxury of such a scent on the dawn of their mission symbolised both hope and despair; hope that when they return they will feast once more and despair that it should be many a day or even month before they have such delicious delicacies again. Either way, she was certain that bacon and egg would be enjoyed by all for one last time at least.

Finding Bombur cooking and whistling in Bilbo's kitchen, I slid into one of the free dining chairs at the long table. There were already a few Dwarves (Thorin, Balin, Dwalin and Bofur) and Gandalf awake.

"Good morning, Veyra!" Boomed the wizard, "I trust you slept well,"

I nodded, "I did indeed, thank you." It was quite difficult not to return his glowing smile, even at this time in a morning when I was usually rather irritable. "And thank you to whomever it was who set me to bed." I added on an afterthought, I would hate for any of them to think me rude.

"It was nothing, my dear." Spoke the last person I had expected: Thorin, "We could hardly have left you slumbering upon the stone floor now, could we?" He chuckled. Maybe we could be friends, now he realised that a woman might not be quite as useless on this quest as he had thought.

Once again, I conveyed my thanks and Bombur rushed in with the first batch of bacon and eggs; they were scrambled, poached, fried and boiled. We each of us took a pile for our plates and ate in a contented silence as soon more Dwarves rose.

Last in stumbled a bleary Kili, his hair matted and sticking up at the back, his clothes roughly thrown on and shirt buttoned up incorrectly. Wiping sleep from his eyes with the end of one of his overlarge sleeves he sank into the nearest chair. The chair just happened to already possess an occupant. Said occupant came in the form of myself. He, apparently, had not noticed this minute detail.

"Kili," I wheezed. He looked about himself confusedly, "Though you are far less heavy than some of my cousins whom usually sit upon my lap, I would greatly appreciate it if you were to move so that I may eat."

Immediately the youngest Dwarf leapt at least a foot into the air, apologising profusely in what I could only imagine to be Khuzdul (Dwarvish), vaguely I recognised the word for 'sorry'; the Old Took had taught me phrases in many languages when I was a child. The Dwarf scrambled away, his face a lovely shade of crimson.

"Ghuld ud sahn," I assured him, remembering the sequence for 'you are forgiven', one of the few other phrases I could still recall.

"You speak Khuzdul?" Fili questioned inquisitively.

I shrugged, "Not really, I was taught a few pieces when I was young. Alas, I doubt I should ever remember much more."

Despite my admission, the group appeared to be impressed, with the exception of Thorin who merely scolded Kili, "You would be best to speak to the girl in the Common Tongue, Kili, and to check your seat before you set yourself down." Though he added a laugh, his eyes searched my features with an uncomfortable intensity. I fear he had hoped he would be able to use his mother tongue in discussing things he wished me not to hear and now thought it an inconvenience that I might understand a few words.

I had finished and so took my plate to the sink so that I might wash up. Straight away the dish was out of my hands, a smiling Fili also reached to take my cutlery. "You are not a maid, remember?" He sniggered, smirking down at me. I made to retort, but he was having none of it. "Sit." He ordered. I did as directed.

Soon the Dwarves had washed and dried each piece of china along with all the cutlery. It was only then that I noticed that we were missing one vital person. "Where is Bilbo?" I enquired.

A wall of silence rose between myself and the guests, languidly dissolved by the wizard who had, until then, been quietly smoking on the far side of the room staying out of any conversation. "He says he will not come." He answered, fixing me with a curious stare.

I frowned, "I had almost believed he would accompany us," I confessed, disheartened.

Gandalf sighed, "So had I, alas if he does not meet us at The Green Dragon by the time the sun is well over us, we will be off without him."

That did not fill me with hope, but rather; trepidation. It somehow felt wrong to leave Bilbo, as though he were meant to go on this journey more so than I. "He will beat the sun." I asserted firmly.

"Ten pieces of gold wagers you are to be wrong," Proposed Kili, a smug grin settling about his face.

I considered this, "Done," came my reply, "Though I do hate to take money from people so easily." I found myself teasing.

Soon the entire room were exchanging bets with only four Dwarves (Bofur, Bombur, Oin and Fili) and Gandalf giving Bilbo any credit, though I had the distinct feeling that they were merely humouring me and did not support Bilbo in the slightest. At this point my uncertainty had waned, I severely desired my cousin to come with us and so he would, I prayed to the Gods he would at any rate.

The Company headed outside to where the ponies waited for our departure. I slid my sheathed blade into my boot for safe-keeping noting that it was exactly the right length to slide in unseen and be easily reachable, the bow too clipped into place inside my full-length grey travelling cloak, without being detected. The only thing that could not be hidden was the accompanying sheath of arrows, which I would have to wear upon my back. I did not mind that now though. I attached both bow and quiver to my pony, alongside my bag. The bag was a little fuller now, having had some food supplies and two water skins added.

I had a niggling feeling that the troop were giving me the least supplies to carry because of my being female, it should not bother me, but it did; I wanted to be viewed as an equal and here I was bearing the least burden, but it did feel as though they would see me as a complaining woman if I argued the point.

The Green Dragon took no more than a twenty minutes to get to and once there the Dwarves tucked into yet another meal and yet more ale. These people ate enough to rival the Hobbitish appetite, though not quite, the Hobbits would have already had breakfast, second breakfast and would be starting on Elevenses by now. I wondered how it is they could all stay so trim, none but Bombur had particularly large stomachs, and yet Hobbits were thought strange if they did not have rounded middles. Sadly, the race of Men could not eat as much as they wished without consequence, though I tried. I did join them in a second meal and all too quickly the sun was racing across the sky, as though desperate to win over poor Bilbo, like they were deadly competitors. I had never known time to pass so quickly; whether that was due to my not wanting it to pass or the fact that the gathering was so cheery that I did not notice the time from my enjoyment, I did not know.

"We must away now, if we are to make any progress." Announced Thorin.

I groaned, though I knew he was right; we could not wait for the Hobbit any longer. It was only ten o'clock, but it would soon pass as the last few hours had. Reluctantly I followed them out, slowly readying my pony for our departure.

My pony was a sandy brown with a flowing white mane that contrasted beautifully, I discovered his name to be Tobias. I did not learn the names of the other steeds; I was only just managing to remember the names of the Dwarves and that alone was enough of a feat when many had such similar sounding names and nicknames for one another.

We set out once more, this time heading towards the eastern border of the Shire. Our troop had not gone far before I heard a slight pounding of hairy feet along the path behind us.

"Wait!" Called a familiar voice.

The sun was not yet overhead. I smirked to Kili, who rode beside me. "Looks like I was right," I winked in his general direction.

My attention was taken by none other than my cousin running the dirt track. "I have done it, I've signed it!" Bilbo pronounced proudly, waving a contract similar to the one I had signed the night before.

"Victory over the sun," I cried triumphantly, throwing my arms in the air, ignoring Bilbo's befuddled gaze. A hand found one of mine and pressed something into my palm. I looked over to my right finding none other than Kili, his features dusted with pink as my sapphire eyes found his chocolate orbs. His hand did not move for a long moment after I realised he must have been handing over my winnings. All around us Dwarves were passing and throwing small bags of coins or whatever else they had wagered and those of us with winnings were grinning manically.

"It seems your faith in people has rewarded you," He remarked, "One can only hope it continues to do so." Kili uncurled his fingers from around mine.

I blushed. I did so far too often around this Dwarf, it was not typical of me to be quite as shy as I was behaving at this moment in time. I hardly ever found my cheeks warm, something that I could tell Bilbo was aware of from his knowing smiles. On no, what could he be thinking? This did not bode well. I had no time for shyness or embarrassment now. It just was not me.

Luckily for me none of the Dwarves seemed to notice – well, none of them, apart from Fili, but it was not my embarrassment he had cottoned on to; it was his brothers. At least it was not just me who was feeling timid of people. I faintly heard the two speaking Khuzdul under their breaths, it seemed as though Fili were teasing Kili about something – probably the fact that I had been blushing yet more each time the younger brother happened to peek over my way. Kili appeared to be becoming a little annoyed with it; his words coming faster, louder, harsher than they had been only moments ago. I urged my pony forward, lest I remember any more Khuzdul; I did not desire them to think I would listen in to a conversation clearly not meant for my ears.

I heard Gandalf informing Bilbo that he had known the Hobbit would come all along. It pleased me to know that the wizard had the same trust in my cousin as I, the Hobbit needed people who believed in him in order to believe in himself.

"Gandalf says you told everyone I would come," Bilbo stated once I was close enough to talk to without raising his voice.

I nodded. "I knew you would not wish to miss out on this," I teased, ruffling his hair.

He snickered. "So you came along to keep me company?" He questioned, though we both knew that would not be the answer.

"I could not let you have all the fun for yourself, dear cousin," I mocked. "I had other reasons too though."

"Your mother." He said sagely, he knew me better than anyone else in my life.

Again, I bobbed my head. "She left me these," I indicated my new weapons and revealed the note unto him.

He seemed confused for a moment once he had read the paper. "You have never told me you wished to find your father," He frowned, "I would have helped long ago had you asked." It was as though he were upset that I had not shown any inclination toward finding my father until I was in the presence of strangers.

"It had not been possible," I told him, no one even knew where my mother had been when she fell pregnant, "You know that." And he did. "Besides, I might never find him still. It could all be one of Old Took's fantasies, you know how he can be."

This perked the Hobbit right up, evidently he was troubled by the thought that I had been keeping things from him of all people. I would never do such a thing, there were no secrets between my cousin and I; we were the closest of all the family and had been ever since I was little and he would take me on Shire-adventures.

"Give the Hobbit your pony." Thorin barked at me. I did as told before he could grow angry, I could tell he already had a distaste for me for making them wait for Bilbo.

"No, no, that won't be necessary," Bilbo protested, "I'm sure I can keep up; I've done my fair share of walking holidays, even got as far as Frogmorten once. No, I'll go along on foot, I don't-" The Hobbit got no further; the youngest brothers had plucked Bilbo from the ground and planted him onto my former pony.

"You will ride with Kili," Thorin ordered as he passed me.

Uh oh. I was guaranteed to be a wild fuchsia right this moment. Is there no other I could ride with? I mean, I could not ride with Bilbo, his pony was far too tiny, but surely another could have me ride with them.

In an instant, the Dwarf in question was by my side, silently removing my bag and weapons from my possession and fastening them to his pony, which did appear much larger than the one I had vacated. So much so in fact that I had no idea how in the world I was to climb upon its back. That was until I felt two strong arms grip my sides and hoist me to sit in front of the arms' owner: Kili. Well, I need not have worried about getting on the pony at all and luckily for the Dwarf, I was still short enough so as he could see above my head.

"Thanks," I murmured.

He simply chuckled at first. "You would never have scaled such a distance by yourself, my lady." He informed me, supressing further bouts of mirth.

"Indeed," I muttered coldly. I had thought him to be above such underestimation of me, but he was a male and it seems the entire male species shall forever mistake females as weak.

It was not an uncomfortable feeling, sitting in front of the Dwarf, yet the snickering and staring from the other Dwarves set me on edge; what did they possibly think was going on between me and the pony-sharer? I ignored them and listened only to the teasing banter going on behind me, courtesy of Kili and Fili.

"Brother, if your beard continues at this rate you'll be able to braid it in a few hundred years," Fili mocked, stroking the braids at his moustache.

Kili brushed the comment off, "At least I do not sometimes mistake my moustache for food, brother," He sneered over the last word. Though he was joking, there was an undertone to his voice that portrayed he was hurt more than he would let on. I made a mental note to ask him about that later. Personally, I preferred Kili's look over Fili's, not that I would let either of them know that.

"What do you think, Veyra?" Fili questioned.

I shook my head, making a non-committal noise, "I'm not getting involved!" I giggled.

"That means she prefers the braids!" Fili hollered heartily.

I snorted, "Sorry, when exactly did I say that?"

Fili scowled, "I bet she does not even appreciate facial hair… Surrounded by beardless Hobbits… No sense of masculinity." He was babbling along like this for some time and I could feel his brother's silent laughter as he shook behind me. Fili did not look our way for a while, eventually going to join Thorin at the front of the company, muttering about the need of sharp eyes there as well as at the back.

I felt Kili rest his head upon my shoulder, the warmth of his breath stirring my hair brought a heat of blood to my face, thankfully he could not see from his angle. "So you believe a… light covering of beard is better?" He whispered. I could feel his smug expression growing.

"I do not recall having said that either." I shot back.

"I know," He said brightly, "but I can tell."

"Oh, you can, can you?" I countered, turning my head to face his grin with a raised eyebrow, "Pray tell how you can know such a thing of a person you have just met?" The sarcasm in my tone seemed to only amuse him further.

"I just can," He sniggered, raising his head and leaving me to mutter in annoyance.

I really did have a pet peeve of people assuming what I like and dislike; it made me feel as though I had no input in my own decisions, like I was not in control of anything however much I think I am. Though a part of me – a very small and very ridiculous part – did not particularly mind this Dwarf assuming things about me, especially seeing as though he was usually correct in his assumptions.

As the shadows lengthened and dusk began to settle around the Company like a blanket, I could feel myself sagging back into the warm body behind me, my head drooping forward and my eyes growing heavier and heavier. He did not complain.

Thorin halted at the head of the company. "We shall make camp here." We had arrived outside a reasonably sheltered outcrop of rock. Covered by trees over one side, it would be fairly simple to keep watch in a place like this.

"Veyra?" Kili nudged my back gently, I let out a sleepy 'hmm?', "You can sleep as soon as we alight, Vey." He told me. 'Vey', no one had called me that since my mother passed; it had been her pet name for me. It niggled in my mind that I should be annoyed that he had used it, I had, after all, been so upset with Bilbo every time he called me it that he had stopped. Yet it did not sound familiar on his lips, as though he had given me a new nickname, it felt like he was trying to make a strong friendship between us. The Dwarf swung himself from the pony, keeping a hand on my back so as not to allow me to fall. His arms encircled my waist as he slid me from the height of the pony.

"Thanks," I muttered blearily. I unclipped my belongings from the steed and Kili collected his. I tottered over to where Balin was making a fire, the scent and promise of food keeping me awake a little longer.

But not long enough. I woke not too much later to the sound of a low, crackling fire and a hushed conversation that had to be close by. I recognised the four voices. Balin, Fili, Kili and Bilbo were sat a little ways from me when I cracked open my eyes. It was then that I realised someone had placed me on my bed roll and put my blanket and cloak atop my sleeping form. At some point I would have to get to bed without someone putting me there, no matter how touching it was to be looked after.

"Did you sleep well, miss?" Balin chuckled, spying me behind the youngest Dwarves who had their backs to me.

I nodded. "Yes, thank you, Balin. I am afraid I should not be so used to such long treks for some time." I spoke as I clambered over to sit in their little group.

The men snickered. "Nor I!" Bilbo agreed whole-heartedly. I let out a light chuckle. It would certainly be quite some time before my cousin would be accustomed to living outdoors and travelling leagues at a time.

A strange sound echoed from far away into the woods.

"What- what was t-that?" Stuttered Bilbo.

Fili smirked, "Orc call." He supplied without so much as a glance toward the sound.

"Indeed, they hunt in packs; silently sneaking up on weary travellers in the night when all are slumbering, then they creep up and slit your throats. All quiet like, no noise; just lots of blood." Growled Kili, I shivered internally hoping that these creatures were not planning the same thing for us.

Both brothers burst into laughter. Evidently they thought such a thing to be an adventure and not a sinisterly common occurrence. How could they possibly dismiss mass death and murder in such a way?

"You think a night raid by Orcs is funny, do you?" Cut across the voice of Thorin, scowling from the outside of our circle. He had taken the words right out of my thoughts. My expression mirrored the leader. It hurt to see people I thought I could begin to like speak of the devastation left behind by Orc-kind in such a flippant way as to make a joke of it.

"Forgive me, we meant no harm," Kili pleaded. But he was not looking at Thorin; his eyes were focussed intently on my own.

"I cannot even give you the excuse of youth, what with the company you keep." Thorin scolded the brothers, his eyes flitting to me for a brief moment. For the first time since I had met him, he glanced at me with a modicum of respect; as soon as it had appeared, he had hidden it once more.

"Please, Veyra," Fili tried, "we did not mean it."

"I should have realised," Kili joined in, "I forgot about…" He could not bring the rest of that sentence into verbalisation; and for that, I was glad. "Please, forgive me."

I could not deny the regret etched onto the young Dwarf's face, I realised then how much of a child he still was by Dwarvish standards; he would barely be out of adolescence. He had never had to consider the emotions of those around him before.

I waved a hand in his direction, "It matters not." I told him, "It is done and passed now." The smile I wore did not quite reach my eyes.

The elder Dwarf merely took up huff, striding as far away as the camp allowed. He had probably expected me to be as furious as he. That would not have boded well for anyone; when I let myself become angry there are no half measures, I am either inconsolably weeping or screaming like a feral beast, there is no in between and even I cannot tell which bout will take over.

"Don't take it to heart, lad." Balin consoled a crestfallen Kili, "Thorin has more reason than most to hate Orcs," he explained giving me a pointed look. The elderly Dwarf told the story of Azog the Defiler, whom had slain Thorin's grandfather, the last King Under the Mountain, and of how it had been Thorin whom had defeated the Pale Orc using an Oak branch as a shield. So I had more in common with the leader than I had thought: we had both lost loved ones to Orc-kind.

Bilbo yawned, "Tired?" I enquired. He simply nodded.

Balin and the brothers looked exhausted too. "You three should get some sleep," I advised. I really needed to be alone right this moment.

"Kili and I are on watch, though, my dear," Fili explained, "We shall not slumber for a while as yet." He was yawning even as he said it.

"Nonsense," I dismissed, "You are both asleep in the mind already!" Fili did not argue my point for it was true, both were having immense difficulty in keeping their eyes open, let alone peeled for danger. The elder Dwarf and Fili ambled off in search of their bed rolls, they would not get long; the night was already lightening. Bilbo, too, sauntered away once he had given me a warning glance that clearly told me that he did not trust the remaining Dwarf. I shooed him away.

"You cannot keep watch alone," Kili stated sternly, "If you keep watch, then I shall also."

I groaned, "But you are exhausted! Besides, I would not be alone; Thorin is only the other side of camp, you will all be quite safe." I assured him. It was true, Thorin stood to the east of the camp, staring out into the distance, his eyes shining and alert.

"Still," Kili went on, "it would not be very chivalrous of me now, would it?" I must not have seemed convinced, "I have slept enough already whilst you did." He informed me, I had a feeling this sleep had been more a closed-eyed lie down than actual slumber, but I let it slide nodding an unwilling agreement.

There was a silence. Not an uncomfortable one, but companionable.

"Vey?" Kili's voice, though barely audible, sliced through the peace.

"Hmm?" I hummed, cautiously.

"I was talking to Gandalf the first night," He began, plainly wishing he had not, "He told us about your parents." I nodded for him to go on. Where was he going with this? "It's just… I never met my father either."

"I am sorry to hear that," I said, patting his arm. I still had no clue as to where the Dwarf was taking this. Was he simply trying to find a common ground for us?

Kili leaned toward my touch, I quickly withdrew my hand. This Dwarf was still a stranger to me. "I just wanted you to know that you can talk to me, or Fili if you would prefer, we would understand." He assured me, not meeting my eyes. The sentiment was touching, this stranger was willing, if I were inclined to, to allow me to ramble at him and listen. That was sweet.

"That would be appreciated sometime," I thanked him, but made sure to stress that I was not ready to pull him up on his offer just yet. "Can I ask you something?"

It was his turn to be cautious now, his brows drew close and his face became closed off, like he did not trust himself to answer in case I asked something that their leader would not want me knowing the answer to, "You do not have to answer if you do not wish," I promised him.

This calmed him, he nodded for me to proceed.

I collected my thoughts to decide exactly how to word my wonderings. "I was only thinking, what is the importance of beards with Dwarves? I do not wish to be impertinent, but it intrigues me to see such… interesting facial hair."

Kili frowned, as though I had mortally offended him. That was not my intent, I had been solely curious, now I regretted being so, I could have ignored it. I was about to apologise when he raised his eyes to mine with a small smile. "For us, a beard is a sign of pride and dignity. A beard is an extension of the Dwarf, a symbol of their power in battle. To have a great beard is to be a great warrior."

I realised then why he would be so guarded before replying; he was basically saying that his beard, or lack thereof, was seen as a source of shame; evidence that he had not seen battle, being the youngest.

He still looked vaguely ashamed. "Where I am from," I began, "It is not the beard that defines a warrior, nor even the weapons," He looked at me confusedly, "It is the stories they live to tell." It was true; Old Took had a thousand tales to tell, each more daring and amazing than the next, and he was certainly regarded as a warrior as much as it were possible for a Hobbit.

Kili considered this. "Thank you," He told me, though I am not sure it honestly made any difference nor sense to him, but he gave me a grateful smile all the same. I hoped he would not let his lack of annoying facial hair prevent him from being the warrior he could be.


This Chapter is named after the Biffy Clyro song Victory Over the Sun.