DISCLAIMER: The characters and locations of The Hobbit do not belong to me. They belong to JRR Tolkien, New Line Cinema, and probably a host of other people I've forgotten. I'm only borrowing them for a little entertainment, and I'll put them back when I'm finished with them. Inara, however, belongs to me and I would like to be consulted before she is used in any other works. Evendim and Ithil-valon have standing permission to use any of my characters in any fics they choose.

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE WARNING! This story is set in an alternate universe. This means that some of the features, faces, and places might differ slightly from the original. This is intentional and WILL NOT result in canon characters behaving in out of character ways. It DOES mean they might develop in slightly different ways.

THIS STORY IS NON-SLASH.

DEDICATIONS: To Evendim, who first gave me the courage to post in this fandom and has given me such pleasure with her own AU series. I would never have been so bold without your help, thank you from the bottom of my heart. To Ithil-valon, who has been more than a loyal friend and has helped me through some really tough times of late, and who has been the best beta-reader anyone could ask for. And to AJ, without whom my life will be a lot poorer. Rest well, my darling. You are sorely missed.

Love the story? Hate it? Think I should be burned at the stake? I'll never know unless you review!

Part Four

They had been traveling for many days when they finally came to the Celduin. The original plan to head south had been abandoned when the pony appeared with their water, and they had instead headed a bit north of due east in order to get to the river and still make headway toward the Lonely Mountain.

They had both healed fairly well. They were now taking turns leading the pony by day and having companionship by night.

The first time she had heard Thorin sing, she had been entranced. It was somber, sad, and hopeful, all at the same time. She had kept silent, listening, wishing for it not to end.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold,

To dungeons deep, and caverns old.

We must away,

Ere break of day,

To find our long-forgotten gold.

The pines were roaring on the height,

The winds were moaning, in the night.

The fire was red,

It flaming spread,

The trees like torches blazed with light.

She was enchanted. It was so sad, and yet so hopeful, that she hadn't realized she was staring at him. He seemed to be lost in the music and she had a chance to really look at him. His face showed strength in the clean lines and she was almost as lost in watching him as she was the music. What was WRONG with her? He was her friend, no more.

He had turned, caught her watching him, and smiled slightly. "An old song," he explained with a small shrug.

"A beautiful one," she returned. "And you sing it well."

He shrugged, a little uncomfortable with her praise. Since the night he had touched her face, her hair, thoughts of her had held an uneasy place in his mind. She was his friend, he reminded himself sternly. "Perhaps you could return the favor. Have you no songs of your own people to share?"

"Not if you value your ears," she replied with a small laugh before she was able to stop it. "I've been told I cannot sing a note. But I could recite something for you, if you like." She saw his slight nod and reached back into her memory for one of the songs she had heard wandering dwarves sing at her father's waystation when she was young. She thought it might be a bit cheeky to use this particular one, since it was about him, but her sense of mischief, long buried, was demanding it. She just hoped he didn't take exception to it.

The King beneath the mountains,
The King of carven stone,
The lord of silver fountains
Shall come into his own!

His crown shall be upholden,
His harp shall be restrung,
His halls shall echo golden
To songs of yore re-sung.

The woods shall wave on mountains
And grass beneath the sun;
His wealth shall flow in fountains
And the rivers golden run.

The streams shall run in gladness,
The lakes shall shine and burn,
All sorrow fail and sadness
At the Mountain-king's return!

He gave her a long look, considering, and she had a moment's fright before he smiled widely and ducked his head. "I confess, I hadn't expected that one. But you tell it well."

She colored slightly. That smile did something to her and she wanted to see it more often. Enough, she told herself sternly. Gharzgul was still out there. And as quickly as that, the mood was broken and she retreated into herself once more.

Thorin watched her change from the vibrant companion he had become accustomed to into the distant, determined woman he had met that first day and raged inwardly at the change. She had seemed so alive, so different, and he wished that woman back with him. The woman she was now seemed to feel nothing. He started to raise a hand toward her and thought better of it. In this mood, she wouldn't welcome his concern.

She saw his hand half raise and wondered at it and then let the thought go. She needed to get herself back under control. Gharzgul had to be her priority. But what was the harm in a little simple companionship? Confusion surfaced again and she turned away, wishing she could find a balance within herself. Hard to do when one part of her wanted to find Gharzgul NOW and the other wanted him to touch her face again. Had she really thought that? Her face was crimson and she was glad he couldn't see it. Again she reminded herself that he was a KING and she was nothing. Besides, he was her friend.

He rose and went to the pony, checking the hobbles and trying to put it out of his mind how much he wanted to bring her back from the abyss she stood on the edge of. Then he checked the packs, though usually he waited until later in the night. He just needed to be doing SOMETHING to keep his mind off her. He remembered vividly the feel of her skin under his fingertips, the silk of her hair as he'd touched it. Inwardly he groaned. She was his friend. He should not presume to think she would welcome advances. He was a Dwarf, not human like her. And yet, she seemed very like one of his kin: strong, stubborn, and with courage to spare. She had been hunting that thrice-damned Orc for years. Yes, stubborn was a good word for her.

Howls from behind them startled them both and they leaped into action. Thorin loosed the pony, allowing it to get to safety, and they turned and regarded each other steadily. More howls were added to the mix and Inara shivered. Many, many more wargs than she had met before were in this pack.

Thorin heard them as well and gave her a sharp nod. He wasted no words. "Run."

They were close to Laketown. A day or two more would have seen them safe there, but it seemed their luck had run out. Both sprinted northward, following the banks of the river, hoping to outrun what was pursuing them and knowing they never would.

They were surrounded within sight of the city walls and drew swords, Orcrist gleaming with blue fire in the darkness. They were preparing for a vain last stand when shouts came from the north of them and arrows pierced the night. Many of the Orcs fell before the rush of Dwarves and Thorin gave a triumphant shout as he also set to routing the monsters. Inara was also hacking and slashing her way through them and soon there were no more to fight. Kili and Fili approached Thorin, smiles wide.

"You're late," Kili said simply.

"We expected you back a week ago," Fili chimed in.

Thorin simply regarded them with that steady stare until they squirmed a bit and he relented. "Come, Inara, meet my kin," he said simply. She stepped forward then, watching them warily. Thorin was her friend, she kept reminding herself. Thorin would never allow harm to come to her if he could avoid it. He was her friend. But she wasn't used to people, and was a little uncomfortable until she realized what he had said. They were his kin. They were safe.

Kili and Fili bowed low before her. "At your service," they exclaimed together. She smiled slightly at their foolery and then remembered her manners. "And I am at yours." Then she turned to Thorin. This had been a mistake. There were too many people around for someone who had spent as much time alone as she had. "Thank you for the invitation to your home, but I must decline," she said stiffly. She hoped he understood it wasn't her intent to hurt him, but she couldn't stand so many people. Perhaps if she had more time to adjust... yes, that was it.

Thorin considered her carefully, his expression held blank. He would never let her see how her words had wounded him. But there was something in her eyes that calmed his pain. Those dark eyes, they held the window to her soul as her face did not. There was the inevitable anger and sorrow there, but now they were joined by something very close to panic. He bit down on his original response and simply nodded. "Perhaps you would wait here," he said simply. He was loathe to allow her to depart in the condition she was in. She was no longer injured, nor was he, but she needed supplies and proper armor if she was to go hunting Gharzgul. "You would be safe enough to regroup and allow me to bring you some supplies. I would repay your kindness, if you would allow it." Say yes, he pleaded silently. Stay here, where I can protect you for a time. Again he suppressed the urge to touch that scar on her cheek, to feel the silk of her hair against his fingers. Those golden strands, so soft to his touch, and he fought it down quickly. She was already afraid. He would do nothing that might frighten her further.

Inara regarded him steadily, now oblivious to the presence of the others. They, in turn, felt the undercurrents and withdrew a short distance away to wait for Thorin and whatever else might happen.

She wanted to stay. She needed to stay. She couldn't bear the thought of causing him pain and it was obvious to her that if she left now, it would hurt him. What harm could there be in allowing him to give her a gift of supplies and perhaps armor? She had wanted him to teach her the ways of war, and now she was running from him. She finally found her courage and faced him squarely. "If the invitation still stands, I accept," she said quietly, though her voice was strong. Courage, she told herself. Courage. Thorin will allow no harm to come to me in his home.

Thorin offered her his hand. Would she accept? He needed to know she was safe.

She took it gingerly and gave him a small smile, trying to ignore the feel of his skin against hers. Fili and Kili brought ponies forward for them and would ride together on another. They hadn't planned on a guest.

Inara mounted, feeling a bit foolish on the pony: her legs nearly touched the ground. But she would go to Thorin's home as he had asked, and from there decide what to do next, and how best to hunt the big Orc who was her quarry. If Thorin could teach her more of the sword, and perhaps the bow, then she would be ready.

She would finally have vengeance.