Several days of long, tiresome walking was behind them by the time they could see the expanse of the Misty Mountains stretching out before them. Once the clouds decided to disperse, the jagged peaks could be seen in hues of blue and purple on the horizon, and (if the sun was just right) shining white peaks could be seen. Travel was slow for the company of Thorin Oakenshield. Each dwarf (or hobbit, or half-elf) had filled every crevice of every pack with food and other necessities that had been lost with the ponies, which made the supposedly simple task of walking far more strenuous and tiresome. At night, no one stayed up long after supper, and the story telling and singing had slowly died off. Despite having rested and ate well in Silevon's home, and discovering new hope, the morale of the company was dull.
Silwen found herself walking with Fili and Kili more often than not, for their spirits were not so easily dampened. The two young dwarves were eager to cross over the mountains, she had learned. They had only ever heard stories of the greatness of Erebor and the City of Dale, and wished for nothing more than to walk the halls of their forefathers and help re-build Erebor to its former grandeur. She grew to want to walk through the hidden door alongside the brothers, and see their faces as they looked upon the once great city for the first time.
The dwarves had also asked her about her own past more, and in a kinder manner. She told them what she knew, but when a dwarf (or Bilbo, for he had done much of the asking) asked about her family history, she could not answer. In the past, Silevon refused to tell her (despite how often she would ask or demand to know) anything about his lineage, along with her mothers. Questions even came up about Silevon and why he chose to live so far away from his own kin, and Silwen could only shrug or shake her head, for he never told her the truth.
Two nights prior to arriving in the shadow of the mountains, they made camp in a well sheltered hollow in the increasingly rocky earth. Two large, grey trees towered above them, providing a good shield from the chilly breeze that swirled down to mountains and nipped at their faces. Everyone set out their bedrolls and huddled in the fur of their cloaks, backs to the breeze. Silwen had changed her garb before leaving her fathers - replaced her thin leggings with laced leather pants, and leather bodice with a steel plate breastplate of elvish make that had been a gift from her father. She also traded in her former cloak for a heavier one, collared with soft fur. She felt that more protection from both the elements and weapons would be a wise choice at this point in the journey – especially since being hunted by Orcs short days ago.
Silwen looked up from her bedroll to see the silhouettes of Balin and Thorin bent over the map in Thorins hands. She had no doubts that they were planning the best and fastest way to get over the mountains. She had crossed the Misty Mountains only once before, several years ago. To her knowledge, there was only one path that was near them that they could take, and they would be forced to travel even closer to Rivendell to find it. She knew that was what they were debating – to go near Rivendell and risking being delayed by the elves, or attempt to pass through the mountains by another path.
She got up from her bedroll and joined Balin and Thorin on the hill. Thorin was in the middle of a declamation of his hate for elves, "... he is different. He trusts elves no more than we do. If we are found by other elves, they will try to stop us and steal this map and key from us!"
"I would not fear to assume," Silwen peered over Thorin's arm and pointed at the area just North of Rivendell, "that we could pass by Rivendell unseen if we cross North of the valley in the night."
"And if we get caught?" Thorin folded up the map as he spoke.
"They will not force us into their valley... not Elrond's folk."
"How can you be so sure?" It was Balin speaking this time.
"Lord Elrond's people are not like the elves in Thranduil's halls." Silwen saw anger flash in Thorins eyes and anticipated his next question.
"How do you know this?"
"Because," she laid a hand on Thorins arm, "Before we left, my father warned me about the elves of Mirkwood. I have not encountered them for myself, but all I know is that they are dangerous."
Balin was shaking his head, "We cannot take the chance Thorin."
Thorin turned away from them and strode down the hill, "We can, and we will."
Silwen turned to Balin and looked at him apologetically. The dwarf "harrumphed" into his long white beard, and looked up at her, "I do not understand why Thorin agrees with you so easily."
She patted the dwarfs shoulder, "I do not understand either," she said with a smile, "Come, lets go eat."
Together, they walked back down into the hollow to where the rest of the company was. There was a small fire already lit, the kindling was just starting to burn. Thorin had demanded that their cook fires be kept smaller and put out once everyone had eaten. He also wanted two on watch at a time, for he had grown even more wary. At first Silwen had thought these changes were simply because he feared they were still being hunted by Orcs, but upon more thought, realized that he grew more uneasy the closer they were to the Misty Mountains. He was rightful uneasy – Silwen had encountered Orcs far too many times in the shadows of the mountains to be at ease. Her armour never left her body, and her swords and bow were never out of reach. She had even fallen asleep the previous night with her arms wrapped around her sword, cradling it close to her body.
She overheard the dwarves debating watches for the night, and it seemed that no one wanted the first watch, everyone was too weary to stay up so long into the night. Silwen had taken the second watch the previous night with Bifur, so the watch was long and quiet. The dwarf had an injury that damaged him in such a way that he could only speak dwarvish, and Silwen knew no dwarvish.
Walking up to the circle of dwarves debating over watches, she shouldered between Fili and Gloin, "I will take the first watch, if need be."
"Aye," said Gloin with a brisk nod, "there be a need."
From behind her came Thorin's mighty, dominating voice, "I will take first watch as well. Ori and Gloin, you can take second, and Dori," he stepped into the circle, eyes smouldering into Dori, "You and Bombur can have the last watch."
It seemed that he grew tired of the continuous bickering that always arose with the question of watches each night. His smouldering eyes passed quickly over each of them before he strode promptly away. He disappeared into the darkness between the two grey trees looming over the hollow.
When supper had been finished, Silwen shouldered her bow and quiver and took two bowls from Bofur before heading up to where Thorin had disappeared. She hung her quiver from a broken branch and rested her bow against the silvery trunk of the tree, "Thorin?"
She squeezed carefully between the two trees to find him leaning against the grey trunk of the tree on her right. She offered him his share of supper, and he took it politely without saying a word. Silwen smiled halfheartedly at him before sitting down, back against the other tree, with her legs crossed and eating her stew. Fili and Kili had hunted down some rabbits earlier in the day, and everyone was thankful for the few extra morsels of meat. She was nearly finished before she decided on some words to say to break the silence, "Crossing over the Misty Mountains is going to be slow and difficult. And dangerous."
Thorin set his bowl down on a rock, "Yes, even though we have a trail to follow, I fear that at times, it will be easy to lose. We barely have time to spare. Getting lost is not an option."
"We must be careful, and keep our eyes open." She finished her supper and set the bowl down near her feet, then looked up at Thorin, "Did my father warn you at all about Mirkwood?"
Thorin finally looked down at her, his hair falling over his shoulder to cast a shadow over his face, "All he told me was to not tarry in the forest. Why? What did he tell you?"
"He warned me against the elves," she started, "With such malice I had not seen in him before. I still do not really understand why there was such a fear in his voice when he spoke to me. They are his kin, after all."
Thorin gaze lingered on the dark, hazy, jagged peaks for a moment, before saying, "Maybe that is why he wanted to tell you to fear them."
Silwen was about to ask him what he meant when he sat down beside her, and said, "He knows what they are like better than most, and that is why he hates them." He pulled his cloak around himself, and continued, "The Elf King, Thranduil," he spat the name, "would do everything in his power to stop us if he learned we were near or in his realm. I cannot risk it – he is a powerful elf. Cold and greedy, too, like all elves."
"My father lived in Mirkwood," Silwen said softly, "He told me he left after he met my mother. He never told me much about my mother, or any of my lineage."
Thorin studied her briefly, "Maybe it's best that you don't know. Your father is unlike any elf I ever knew. Whatever reasons he had to hide your history from you... I'm sure they were to protect you."
"What could be so horrible?"
"The elves."
Silwen remained silent, unwilling to further the conversation, and pushed the frustrating thoughts away, occupying herself with scraping bits of dirt and dried gore off of the engraving on her fighting knives with her finger nails. As the sun sank behind the horizon and the moon began its ascent into the sky, she felt sleep pulling at the edge of her consciousness, nagging at her eyelids, and taking over her body. She rolled to her feet, shaking out her braid and letting the wind wash over her. Thorin glanced at her briefly as she shouldered her quiver and took her bow in her hand. She found herself walking around the hollow, around the company. The fire had been stomped out and was only smoking, and the whole company appeared to be asleep. The cool wind shooed away her sleepiness temporarily, and awakened her senses. When she returned to the two gnarled trees, Thorin hadn't moved. He still stood there – back rested against the tree, arms crossed over his chest. He looked down at her, "Where did you go?"
She sat down against the tree again, "Just for a walk to wake myself up."
"Aye... it seems the rest at your fathers was not enough of a rest. For many of us."
"Oh Thorin! I am not complaining. I am accustomed to life on the road, but not accustomed to being hunted by an Orc pack."
"None of us are."
Silwen pulled her hair over her shoulder, as she looked up at him, not afraid to let him see her pointed ear, "I do not hope that we will have to be accustomed to being hunted by the time this journey is over."
He uncrossed his arms and knelt down next to her, "The road to Erebor will not be easy, but I am sure we will not have to be running from Orcs the whole way there."
"What if it's not the Orcs I fear?"
He seemed to sense that the elves were still on her mind, for his eyes lit up with burning hatred, though he did not mention them, "If you are weary, sleep."
"It is my re-"
"We need your help, Silwen. I was wrong to not trust you. You know these lands better than any of us. I need you to lead us past Rivendell, and I would much rather have you well rested to do so."
"I will be fine, Thorin. This watch will be over soon enough."
He unclasped his cloak and dropped it on her lap, and ended the argument by giving her a look that made her feel small, like a child. With a sigh, she bunched it up into a pillow and lay down. She pulled her own cloak over her body and pulled her feet under it. The fur of Thorins cloak was soft on her face, and filled her nose with a scent that was earthy, heady, and smoky. The scent of it lulled her senses, and she allowed sleep to take hold of her and pull her far away and into darkness.
