AN: Sorry for the short chapter, but it felt right to end it where it did. Hope you like it!
Chapter 2 – Kings
"It just so happens that I am travelling in the company of Thorin Oakenshield, with the purpose of travelling to the Lonely Mountain," explained Balin as he lit his pipe. "We are going to take back Erebor."
Ora felt her eyes widen and looked down to hide her surprise while next to her, Gorim scoffed.
"And what of Smaug the Terrible? An ancient fire drake would hinder your quest somewhat."
Erebor had been once the greatest of all the Dwarven kingdoms – a veritable honey pot of gold, jewels, and the finest craftsmen in all of Middle Earth. It had been under the rule of the descendants of Durin, and inhabited by Durin's folk, and was thriving and healthy. However, as Ora's father had once told her Thror, the King Under the Mountain, ruler of Erebor and heir to Durin grew so sick with his greed and goldlust that it infected the very kingdom itself and drew unwanted attention.
Not long before Ora had been born a fire drake from the north called Smaug the Terrible plundered the Lonely Mountain. With his legendary and draconic hunger for all that glittered he drove Durin's Folk from their home to take it for himself where, to that day, he sat and watched over his insurmountable horde.
"We have a plan," said the elder Dwarf. "Gandalf is with us, and we've just hired a thief to aid us in our endeavor. Smaug has not been seen for many years and there will be no great battle, but we will outsmart the beast and get our home back."
"And what do you need of us, then?" asked Ora. "A band of mercenaries will be of little use to you, especially since I'd imagine you want to keep this secret."
"We don't need mercenaries," said another familiar voice. Turning, Ora saw Gandalf the Grey had quite suddenly appeared next to them, seated next to her, smoking on his long pipe. "We need a guide, someone who's travelled, who knows the roads, side roads, paths, and mountains better than anyone currently in our company."
"Gandalf," greeted Gorim, both he and Ora clasping hands with the old wizard.
"I should have known you'd be involved in this. I don't have any scouts or guides with the skill you're describing, and if I did I wouldn't dare hire them out without their consent," said Ora.
Balin smiled.
"We mean you, my lady."
Ora crossed her arms, leveling an icy gaze at her two old friends.
"And what makes you think that I would leave my men to join a company that I barely know to lead them across Middle Earth to almost certain death?"
"Because you would be given a fifteenth of the share of treasure recovered," said Balin. "You could feed the refugees for half an age. And the lady I once knew would never back down from any challenge, especially certain death."
Ora sighed and rubbed her forehead, mind racing. Balin was right – even one of fifteen shares was an incredible amount considering the legendary treasures of Erebor and she could probably start their own colony with the gold. However what he was asking was no small feat. Not only would she have to leave her men, but she would be leading a group of strangers who would no doubt oppose her presence as a woman and (if they ever found out) the exiled Aeducan kinslayer, through the Wild, the Misty Mountains, and Mirkwood if they were to take the most direct route – by no means an easy or safe road.
It surprised her to hear that the company was being led by Thorin Oakenshield. They'd never met, but the renowned Durin heir and rightful king to Erebor didn't seem to be the type to run off on a quest in which there was absolutely no chance of success. Perhaps, Ora wondered, there was a greater chance for victory than what she saw and maybe it was enough for her to consider Balin's proposal seriously.
Of course, her leaving meant that Gorim would have to be left in charge and the Stoneheart Mercenaries would be left without her to complete the contract with the Rangers. The agreement didn't necessitate her presence, after all, and the sheer amount of gold being promised her was far too great to not give consideration.
"You should do it, my lady," said Gorim suddenly, interrupting her thoughts. "We can handle ourselves, you've trained the lads well enough and I'm sure they'd appreciate the chance to prove themselves without you acting like a mother hen."
"I do not act like a mother hen," she retorted.
"You do. They will be fine. We leave tomorrow to meet with the Rangers, do we not? They will be away from taverns and given work, and the elders will keep the young ones in check."
Ora sighed again, her desire to help her people winning out over her trepidation.
"Very well."
"Excellent!" said Gandalf as Balin grinned, producing a packet of parchment from somewhere inside his coat.
Ora examined it carefully, reading over the promised pay and compensation but skimming the risks, finally signing her true name before handing it back to the white-haired Dwarf.
"Very good," crowed Balin as Ora stood, indicating to Gorim that they were leaving. "We are departing at ten tomorrow morning."
"I will see you at nine," she replied. "If you'll excuse us now, we have business to attend to before the morning. Good evening."
Gandalf and Balin returned the farewell, giving her a small bow and watching her as she swept out of the Prancing Pony with Gorim trailing behind, heart heavy at the thought of telling her men she was going to be leaving them.
"I do hope you know what you're doing," said the Dwarf to the wizard once the pair had gone.
"I always do, Balin," said Gandalf with a wink. "It will be good for her."
XxX
Bree was already busy when Ora rode into town the following morning, the sun's light warm. It was going to be a hot day but she wasn't concerned - her pony, a hardy, feisty roan aptly named Red, handled all weather well and without complaint so long as she was fed and others kept their distance.
The men hadn't taken her news particularly well until she shared with them the amount she'd been promised, and even the elder, more skeptical members of the Stoneheart Mercenaries were excited. Ora, while being assured by Gorim and Vonten, was still anxious about leaving them as they were about to leave on such a large and dangerous contract of their own.
She knew they wouldn't be alone. They would be fighting alongside the Rangers who were more than capable in battle but the thought of her not being there with them put her in a slightly melancholy mood that followed her all the way to the Prancing Pony. It only brightened slightly when she saw the tattooed, bald head of Dwalin next to Balin checking the company's supplies in the front yard.
"And here is our guide!" said Gandalf as she swung out of the saddle.
Those that were in the yard turned to see Ora, and she quickly found herself engulfed in the massive, muscular arms of Dwalin.
"Mahal, Dwalin, put me down before you strangle the breath from my body," she gasped.
The old warrior complied, beaming down at her despite his gruff appearance. Even though he was the second eldest member of the company, Dwalin was the most intimidating looking with tattoos scattered across his head, his hands, and Ora knew across most of the rest of his massive body. He wore knuckle-dusters, hard, dark leather and metal and more than one scar on his face though for all his abrasive appearance he was a kind Dwarf who was as fierce in his loyalty as he was in battle.
"You're our guide?" he asked.
"Your brother and Gandalf cornered me last night," she said. "My boys weren't happy to see me go, but they will be busy with Gorim."
"Boys?! The princess finally settled down!" he roared as he slapped her hard on the back.
"Don't call me that," she hissed, pulling herself free from his grasp. "And no, I didn't. I meant my own company which I left under the promise of gold and anonymity."
Dwalin grinned.
"Of course. What am I to call you, then?"
"Ora Stoneheart."
Dwalin raised his brow in a questioning manner, but was interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the company.
Fili and Kili greeted her with wide grins while the rest that she'd met the night before simply nodded. The new Dwarves Balin quickly introduced – Oin was ancient, though spry, and used an ear trumpet to hear stuffed under white hair while his younger brother Gloin was a surly, energetic redhead. Trailing behind close to Bofur was a handsome young gentle-Hobbit Bilbo Baggins with fine sandy curls and warm blue-green eyes. He looked positively terrified until he laid eyes on Ora, then he was shocked.
Ora knew she didn't appear as many outside the Dwarven race expected. While she had no beard, her dark hair ran in two lines of fine, dark hair just below her cheekbones that reached midway across her cheeks. Little facial hair on females was common of Aeducans and while it was more than any Elf or woman, she found few thought it masculine while her kin simply found it almost delicate looking. Then, as she saw the Hobbit's eyes rove down her figure she wondered if his staring was at her fitted, laced breeches and a light – albeit figure hugging – tunic and emerald undershirt. While only showing the tiniest hint of what could be an almost disproportionate amount of breast for her stature it was far more than any Hobbit would dare reveal, and when he realized she noticed his staring he blushed furiously and looked quickly at his bare Hobbit feet.
"Your guide better be as good as you say he is, Gandalf," growled an unfamiliar voice as a figure pushed their way to the front of the group. "He – "
Thorin Oakenshield was slightly less impressive than Ora had pictured him to be. Stories of how he led his people to safety when Smaug took Erebor, then to Ered Luin, and after the death of King Thror and his own father after the battle of Azanulbizar, she had been expecting a Dwarf the size of a Man with lightning shooting out of his eyes and fire out of his arse.
He was rather handsome, however, and still tall for a Dwarf. In fact, as he stood amongst the company he was the tallest (Dwalin a close second) and had wisps of fine grey streaked through luxurious black waves. Blue eyes, cold as stone and bright as sapphires, gleamed above sharp cheekbones and a trimmed black beard. He wore few braids, another surprising fact, and black leather with furs and plate mail.
With every movement as powerful and fluid as the next he was undeniably regal and Ora felt a sharp pain in her heart as she thought of her father.
He stopped when he laid eyes on her.
"How dare you show your face," he snarled. "How dare you enter the presence of any Dwarf, kinslayer?!"
Ora flinched, and immediately began to regret her decision as cries of outrage and surprise began to sound from the rest of the company. The only ones who didn't were Balin, Dwalin, Gandalf, and the Hobbit and she felt the temptation to cower under their furious glares but stood firm.
It disappointed her slightly that the young king believed her brother's lies. There were very few who still believed Orrak's claims, especially after so many long years of monstrous tyranny, but they were out there and, apparently, in the Company.
"You should be dead, in the bottom of a ditch with a knife in your back for what you did! You brought down Ered Nimrais with your greed, you killed your own brother! They should have never let you leave Aglarond with your head, gluttonous wench."
"You know as well as I that she is innocent," barked Balin.
"Innocent? Is that what you call half the Noble Council finding you standing over your own brother's body, covered in his blood?"
"Believe what you will, Thorin Oakenshield; there are two sides to this tale," growled Ora as she stood directly in front of the enraged king and matching his frigid glare. "Regardless of your confidence in my guilt, I have been hired on as a member of your Company as your guide. I've signed the contract, and I never break my contracts – I'm sure my reputation precedes me in that, as well. And," she added, crossing her arms, "I am equally sure you don't break yours. Say what you will about me, but I will not be leaving until the contract is fulfilled."
A tense silence fell over the crowd in the yard, the only noises coming from the shuffling of the ponies and distant noises of town.
Just when Ora thought she might be forced to defend her life against Oakenshield, he turned away and began barking angry orders at his nephews. There was no sigh, but there was a collective release as everyone seemed to relax once more and return to their tasks and though Thorin relented the Company was regarding her in a decidedly less friendly way – with the exception of Balin, Dwalin, Gandalf, and a very confused Bilbo who just avoided her.
It was going to be a long trip, and as they journeyed out of the town gates and Ora glanced back to see the Stoneheart Mercenaries watching from the woods in silence she was reminded of her cause. Not even the great Thorin Oakenshield would stand in her way, even if she was working for him.
