Chapter 3

Eventually, after a long and tiresome eight hours of travel, the company's horses slowed before settling into camp in a clearing only a stones throw from a small lake.

The day had taken its toll on you, you felt tired and miserable, having hardly spoken to the others since falling from your horse. The humiliation of that moment still hung over you like a stale cloud, unwelcome and bothersome. Slowly, and to waste time, you climbed from your horse and walked it over to the others, taking longer than usual to remove your pack and put down the hay.

You could feel a thick layer of grime on your skin, and you muscles felt sore from sitting in such an uncomfortable position for so long. You longed to make your way down to the lake and wash the filth caked on your skin, and to feel the cool water sloshing over you. Secretly you hoped that a good wash would rid you of your earlier embarrassment, but in your heart you know this to be untrue.

Kicking a large chunk of mossy dirt that had detached from the forest floor as you went, you made your way to the edge of the clearing to make your spot.

You had just put your things down when you heard Thorin call out, 'Over here, where we can keep an eye on you.'

He sounded tired. He looked it too. Huge bags aged his face, making him look older somehow, and angry. He looked angry. Not the in-the-moment kind of anger most encountered, but the slow building anger of a man crippled by disaster.

You let out a growl, the frustration of the day and the building desire to be surrounded by your kin, and to be in one place for more than a day. If only for this day, even just an hour, you could sit with you mother and enjoy your birthday. The birthday that was forgotten. Your action was unexpected, shocking the other dwarves at your defiance of Thorin. You hadn't meant to come across like that, so picked up your stuff and dumped it down closer to the spot Dori was piling with wood for the fire later on. Looking up you saw all eyes on you, some amused, some irritated. Thorin's were unreadable. He looked calm, composed.

'I don't need to be watched over' you stated, clenching your jaw.

'That is a matter of opinion,' he replied, dismissively.

'I'm going to wash,' you say to no one in particular, looking for an excuse to leave.

The dwarves only stare at you, the atmosphere tense. Only Bilbo shows any emotion, looking fairly awkward at the edge of the group, unsure weather to speak up on not. You feel grateful for his sheepish attempt, the eternal struggle showing his caring nature. You found comfort in that, in any display of emotion other than the cold stares of homeless warriors that you had been rewarded with recently.

You leave, walking quickly away from the group, and the situation, and lose yourself in thoughts of home, and the reason for your journey.

The lake was beautiful, undisturbed by creatures foreign to it, surrounded by reeds and wild flowers. Even here, in your chosen escape, you felt like an intruder. The water was cool against your skin, but instead of disturbing the calm scene as only you would, you gently scooped water into your hands and pushed it into your face, taking time to clean the grime from your skin. You would bathe properly later.

Not feeling quite ready to return to the others, you sat down on a fallen tree trunk, careful to watch the rotting places. You relaxed and sat thinking of nothing, letting your mind drift. Hearing the approach of footsteps in your direction, you prepared yourself for a lecture. Probably from Oin. You see movement from the side of your vision and the the trunk makes a worrying sound as your approacher sits next to you. You wait a minute in silence, for the inevitable telling off, but it does not come. Turning your head to the side, you find yourself met with the handsome side profile of Thorin's kin, Kili. He does not turn his gaze to meet yours, not even to acknowledge you. You turn back to the lake, watching a frog jump into the cool waters. The silence is comfortable, and you begin to relax.

'When I was young,' Kili began, pulling you out of your thoughts. 'My mother would not let me out of her sight for long, and even then I was with someone. My uncle, my brother. I was never truly alone. I was always where she could see me. Under her watchful eye.'

You turn to him, confused as to why you were being told the tale. He turns to look at you, his dark eyes sinking into your own, pulling you in. He turns away. Continuing.

'As I grew up, I expected my mother would let me be, at least more than she was. But she was resistance to let me go with the other dwarves, to act my age and explore, and it began to frustrate me.

I craved independence, like my brother had, like the other dwarves my age. Eventually I confronted her,' he pauses, playing with a piece of bark talked from the rotting trunk.

'What did she say?' You whisper, curiosity getting the better of you.

He smiles slightly, eyes fond with the memory. 'She told me that in the destruction of her home, throughout all the hardship she had faced, all the death... I had remained her innocent one. I was too young to understand what I had seen, and she clung to that. She wanted to protect me from grief and danger, from the horrors in the world.'

He turned to you, meeting your eyes again, 'Thorin is only trying to protect you from danger, he cares.'

You scoff, kicking your boot into the leaves at your feet. 'Its not the same and you know it. I fell from my horse, that's all.'

'Maybe that's what you think,' he mutters standing as he pulls you to your feet. 'Come, little dwarf. I have a birthday present at camp for you, and the others will be missing us.'