Sorry this chapter took so long in being published, college has been stealing my attention away from my writing because of midterms and the like. Please, enjoy this chapter and feel free to message or review! Unfortunately, no one reviewed since the contest began, so no one won the ficlet. Pity! But maybe I'll make another contest sometime soon. Cheers, lovely readers.

Ori couldn't take it anymore and thrust down his slingshot. "Stop! Don't 'urt 'er," he cried. The rest of the company reluctantly followed Ori's example. Kili was the last to relinquish his sword to the dirt, tossing his weapon down with the force of a well-aimed blow.

The trolls gathered up the dwarves, shoving them one by one into grimy burlap sacks. They didn't bother to tie Nierea up, believing she was either dead already or in no condition to fight back if she did indeed wake from their onslaught. Body brimming with anger, Kili cursed their ill luck. The only good that had come of the raid was their ponies had escaped with their lives, thanks to Bilbo. He nearly complained aloud about Ori's soft heartedness, stopping only as Bilbo hobbled towards the Trolls, a gaggle of Dwarves already roasting on a slow-turning spit high over the fire.

The dwarves remained irately within sacks as Bilbo stalled for time until Gandalf rescued them with the daylight.

Upon being freed, Kili stretched his muscles leisurely, enjoying each crack and pop of bone as he regained feeling in his body after being crushed under Bombur. Bilbo immediately rushed to Nierea's side, brushing her hair away from her face with tight, worried movements. "Gandalf!" He cried, his voice cracking with anxiety. The grey bearded wizard hurried to the hobbit's side, his face ashen. The damage to Nierea's body was severe, that much was obvious from the awkward angle her body lay upon the ground. Kili meandered over to the crowd forming around her, his conscience prickling with worry.

"If she dies, that saves us the trouble of turning her in," Thorin scowled, only to have Bilbo glare protectively into his eyes. "She saved my life, you know. She wouldn't have gotten injured had she not…" Bilbo choked on his words, his eyes filling up with tears as he snuffled and realized he was the cause of her pain, possibly her death.

"Spit it out, burglar," Kili growled. "In what way is this not entirely her fault?"

Bilbo glowered at the princeling. "She got between one of the Trolls and I while I had been trying to free the ponies, not to mention when she pushed me out of the way of the Trolls the first time they nearly caught me." He spun on Fili, shaking a finger at the brothers. "She thought it was foolish of you two to have sent me out there alone, so she slipped her bonds to rescue me. And you still treat her as a dangerous animal we'd be better without. She's as kind as you lot, just in her own way. Maybe even kinder," he added with a pointed glare at Thorin.

"I saw 'er, too," Bofur added. "She got between the 'obbit and the troll like she 'ad no fear."

Thorin spat upon the ground, unable to argue with his company. Mumbling, "Fix her if you can, Gandalf, but we do not take kindly to deadweight on such a journey," he stormed off, calling every available dwarf to help him search for a troll treasure cash.

Kili stared down at the unconscious girl. Figuring her out would be a task maybe even the best and brightest couldn't figure out, but he'd do his damnedest to try. Truthfully, no one here knew much about her aside from the stories their Uncle had been told. Such stories usually had two sides to them, he knew, but he had chosen to ignore that. Comfortable biases were rampant among dwarves, them with their stubborn mindsets. Looking down at her, now, no one would believe she was a murderess. Not while she was covered in her own blood. Luckily, the stone the Troll had hit her with hadn't cracked her skull, even though it left a bleeding gash. How she hadn't bled out while the trolls were attempting to cook the company was a mystery in itself.

Gandalf ran a hand over her body, muttering in a foreign language. Kili thought he felt a crackling of magic in the air, but that might have been the painful crack as Fili set Nierea's arm back in its rightful place. She was covered in bruises and scratches that were expected after a battle, but it was obvious she'd sustained the worst injuries of the company. Her eyes flashed open as she gasped for breath, the immense pain twisting her face into a mask of agony. Setting her jaw, she took a few moments to compose herself.

"What type of woman tries to fight troll?" Kili growled at her, earning himself a sour look from his brother and Gandalf. "You're barely a third of its size, you idiot. Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?" Fili asked, nudging his brother to clarify.

"Why would she save Bilbo? She owes us nothing!" He yelled, finally out of patience for the whole situation. Gandalf helped her sit up straight as he continued healing her. The head wound was slowly repairing itself, but it wouldn't be completely healed for a while. Fili began wrapping her arm in part of his cloak and added a few sticks to make a splint and sling for her arm, stopping when she leaned forward to scribe something in the dirt.

"You needed him." She scrawled simply, facing Kili and giving him a weak smile before returning to her usual, neutral façade. Nodding her gratitude towards Gandalf, she pushed off of the ground with her uninjured arm, attempting to get to her feet. Weakness wasn't something in her vocabulary; pain was something to make her stronger, but she didn't complain when Kili hauled her to her feet, taking care not to injure her further. Her first steps were wobbly, reminiscent of when her legs were squashed in the Trolls' grip. He steadied her, allowing her to lean on him momentarily before she got her balance. Brushing off his grip on her, she strode in the direction of the rest of the dwarves. Cradling her wounded arm to her chest, she ignored all of the other pain signals in her body. Aside from her arm, if someone had seen her from afar, they'd never know she had been beaten unconscious.

Reaching the trolls' cave, she was the only one to not turn up her nose at the disgusting scent of rotting flesh, mold and general decay. The past few years had readied her for nearly anything battle related.

Groping her way down into the cave, she steadied herself against the slime-coated walls of the trove until she could stand on the mostly flat stone floor. She picked up a rag that might have been a dress at one time, wrinkling her nose in disgust as bones of a hand clattered out of the cloth. Rolling her eyes, she meandered around the cave, ignoring Thorin's warnings of severe punishment if she touched anything. Spotting a few daggers stuck in the skull of some poor man, she yanked out the blades, grinning as she realized they weren't too decayed to be used. She tucked them into the folds of her shirt and went on her way, following the rest of the dwarves as they vacated the stinky hole.

Missing her step as she reached the entrance of the cave, she gasped. Nearly toppling back down the steep incline, Kili's arm shot out, catching her. He'd positioned himself against the entrance wall as though he was waiting for her to leave the cave. He tried to avoid squeezing her bruised ribs as he repositioned her in his grip. "You've got to be more careful," he mumbled gruffly. He didn't like what he couldn't understand. If she saved Bilbo, she couldn't be half as bad as Thorin made her out to be. He had to have proof one way or the other to her innocence or guilt before he made any form of decision about this strange girl.

"I never did ask," he examined her face for signs of, well, anything, really. "You are human, correct, despite your short stature? So how did you learn how to run as though you were light as an elf?" It was something that had been bothering him since he first spotted her in the forest. Her face lit up at the question, her eyes seeming to look at something faraway in her past before she stood on guard once again as Gandalf yelled, warning them to be ready for company.

Guarding her arm, she positioned herself at her most advantageous position with her new knives facing outward while Kili readied his bow. When the brown wizard burst through the bushes with cries of murder and black magic, she half expected him to be after her, but he took the company of Gandalf instead.

Ignoring Kili and straining to hear the wizards' conversation, she only managed to catch snippets of their conversation. The eccentric brown wizard, whose name seemed to be Radagast, mentioned Angar, the witch-king, and told of his possible return to life.

Shrugging, she assumed his speech of the moment wasn't going to end badly for her, this time. She did wonder what might happen if the motley crew of dwarves found out she seemed to have the protection of something from the Witch-King's lair. Craning her neck to get a better handle on her surroundings, she peered at the dwarves in her company. Each was distinct in their personalities and appearances, but she'd bet that each was just as stubborn as the next.

Letting her gaze wander, something prickled at the back of her neck, just as it always did when something dangerous was near. Moments later, the forest rang with the howl of Wargs. A single Warg burst through the brush, tackling Oin to the ground, jaws snapping at open air as Thorin swung his sword through the furry flesh around its throat, killing it instantly. Nierea felt the whoosh of an arrow dodge past her head as it buried itself into the eye of a second rampaging Warg readying itself to pounce on Thorin simultaneously as she buried one of her throwing knives into its other eye. Its dying screech echoed through the forest, calling to whatever pack it came from

"Warg scouts," Thorin angrily observed, "which means an orc pack is not far behind."

Gandalf stormed up towards him. "Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?" He bellowed, spittle flying from his lips.

"No one!"

"Who did you tell?"

"No one, I swear!" Thorin stepped closer to the angry wizard. "What in gods name is going on?"

Gandalf searched Thorin's face for any dishonesty. Finding none, he growled in annoyance and spun around, surveying the likely happenings of the near future if they were to stay put. "We are being hunted," he harrumphed.

"We have to get out of here," said Dwalin as he eyed the forest.

"I'll draw them off," Radagast suggested, staring intently into Gandalf's eyes.

"Those are Gundabad Wargs, they will outrun you!" Shaking his head, Gandalf disregarded the idea.

"These are rhosgobel rabbits," Radagast smiled knowingly. "I'd like to see them try." Without waiting for a reply, he hopped back on his rabbit-drawn sled and took off in the direction the Wargs had come.

Thorin yelled for everyone to gather, preparing to run across the open plain nearby to reach safety. "Kili, tie her to you again," Thorin said, tossing him a rope. "We can't afford for her to get in contact with the orcs if they are her employers." Kili didn't argue, not this time. His Uncle had more important things to worry about.

"Sorry 'bout this," he mumbled. Rolling her eyes, she tried to shrug, failing and wincing instead. It would have been safer to be untied, but she understood that Thorin's job consisted of keeping his men safe and alive. He couldn't yet trust her, despite her rescue of the hobbit. She just wanted her bow back. She couldn't shake the guilt of leaving it behind on the forest floor to be picked up by whatever wayward beast happened upon it.

Expelling a tired breath through her teeth, she wound her hand within Kili's. It would be easier to run this way, being able to better sense the other person's movements by the shifting of their muscles.

Moments later, Thorin gave the sign, and they were off. For better or for worse.