Author's Note: Hello! Thanks for all the continuing support-I really appreciate it. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Just a little note to apologise that the dialogue and events taken directly from the film may not be altogether accurate, as, while I've seen the film now three times, I haven't watched it recently, and I can't remember exactly what people say and when. Also, this fic is to be a two parter, with part one ending in the next chapter. Anyway, hope you enjoy-please do keep reviewing; your words mean the world to me!

I couldn't remember actually falling asleep that evening, but I suppose I must have done at some point, for I awoke the next morning to Ori pounding away at my skull with his axe. Or rather, it felt like he was doing so. I groaned into the floor and tried to remember the events of the previous night, though with little success. When I had first joined Lady Lorienna's establishment, she had given us all a lecture about the dangers of beverages such as mead, and now I understood why. Blearily, I lifted my head up, and squinted around in the early morning sun. One of my old boots lay discarded a few feet away, and I was tangled up in what looked like Bofur's moleskin overcoat. Bofur himself now made his way over.

"I'll have that back, if you don't mind," he said, not waiting for me to reply and pulling the coat away from me.

Groaning once more, and cursing Gloin and his homebrewed mead, I dragged myself up off the floor and looked around. A few of the dwarves were over by the fire, happily breakfasting together. Bombur was making his way successfully through a plate of sausages, and Dwalin was prodding something in a pot that was bubbling away over the flames. Bofur, now complete with moleskin coat, joined them. I looked around for Bilbo, and saw the hobbit just emerging from behind some trees, rubbing a blanket over his hair which was slightly damp.

"Hello," I said, eyeing his damp hair curiously. "Where have you been?"

"Ah," said Bilbo, smiling mischievously. "I discovered a really rather pleasant stream just through those trees," he pointed. "And I've just been taking a bath."

"How...pleasant," I said, slightly bemused. It was amusing to me that someone should still take baths while on adventures.

"It was," agreed Bilbo, sighing. "And very refreshing."

I rubbed my eyes again. "Perhaps I should follow your example," I said. "After last night, I'm sure I've never felt less refreshed in my life."

Bilbo nodded. "You should," he said. "It might be the last chance you get to wash for a while." He smiled once more, and moved away to join the breakfasting dwarves.

I followed Bilbo's instruction, and stumbled over the uneven ground and through the trees, passing a surly looking Thorin Oakenshield as I did so.

There was a dampness in the air as I entered the forest. The lush, dark leaves on the trees were glistening slightly and the air was thick and muggy. It was suddenly also very quiet; the density of the trees blocking out any noise drifting from the dwarves' camp. The only sound that could now be heard was that of trickling water, and I followed it eagerly, keen now I was there to find Bilbo's stream. When I reached the stream; a beautifully clear one that twisted in and around small grey boulders, and eventually disappearing into the darkness of the trees, I found that I had not been the only one to take up Bilbo's advice.

Fili was there, just finishing pulling on his boots and tightening his belts.

"Oh, sorry..." I said when I realised I had intruded upon him. "I didn't realise..."

Fili looked up. He was leaning against one of the grey boulders, but straightened up when he saw me, smiling. "No, its fine," he said. "How are you feeling after last night?"

"Oh," I said, drifting over to the stream. "Alright I suppose...Oh dear!" I exclaimed, catching sight of my reflection in the water's surface. My hair, thick and coarse compared to the sleek locks of the elves I had grown up with, was now even wilder than usual, having come unravelled from its braid, and sticking up all over the place.

"Here," said Fili, obviously reading my thoughts. "I'll fix it."

"Oh no, there's really no need..." I began, but Fili had already moved closer and was fiddling with my hair with an unexpected deftness and delicacy.

"My friend used to braid it," I said, for lack of anything else to say. "She was always very good at things like that, unlike me."

"Is that the elven friend you brought with you to see us that time?"

I thought for a moment about who Fili was talking of, but then remembered Tahadrial.

"Oh, no," I said, darkly. "She wasn't really a...friend of mine."

There was silence for a moment.

"No," said Fili, after some apparent consideration. "No I thought she wasn't."

Surprised, I turned to face the dwarf. "What do you mean?" I demanded. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh!" said Fili, who suddenly wouldn't meet my eye. "Just...just some of the things she said. About you."

I narrowed my eyes. "Things?" I said. "What sort of things?"

"Well..." Fili fiddled with his hands awkwardly. "She just seemed to be under the impression that I would be...well, impressed if she told me some secrets about you. Not," he added quickly when I had glared angrily at the thought of Tahadrial. "That I expect any of them to be true in the slightest."

I was silent for a moment, still seething. Fili took this as an opportunity to provide distraction.

"Anyway, look," he said, swivelling me around so I was once again looking into the water. "What do you think?"

I stared. Fili had somehow managed to loop and braid my hair so that it no longer resembled a porcupine sat on top of my head, but nor did it look like the awful ersatz copy of the elven braid that Anneli had always done for me, and which never looked right on my shorter, coarser hair.

"Oh wow," I said, twisting my head to look at the sides of the braids. "Do I look like a dwarf now?"

Fili laughed. "Not quite," he said. "You haven't nearly enough beard for that."

"Surely dwarf women don't have beards?" I said, turning to look at Fili.

He nodded. "Most do."

"How...how..." I struggled to think of an adjective. "How unfortunate!" I ended up blurting out, stupidly.

Luckily for me, Fili saw humour in my words, and laughed again. "Unfortunate for whom? Them?" he raised an eyebrow, suddenly coy. "Or us poor men who have to marry them?"

I stared, shocked, at the young dwarf.

"Well!" I said, suddenly flustered. "Well! I hardly think that's for, uh, me to say, do you? Ha!" I let out a nervous, embarrassed laugh, feeling uncomfortable.

"Come on," said Fili, chuckling at my expression. "We'd better get back. I know that my uncle is anxious-

"Anxious to get away," I finished. "Yes, you're...you're right."

Still flustered over Fili's comments about marriage of all things, I followed the dwarf back through the trees away from the stream.

It was not until we were back at the camp that I remembered my initial intentions for going to the stream in the first place.

"Did you enjoy your bath?" Bilbo asked, the moment I appeared, his green eyes shining.

"Bath?" I said, vaguely. "Oh, yes! Very...very pleasant."

"I see you've changed your hair as well," said the hobbit. "It's very nice."

"Oh thank you," I said, running a hand over the braids. "Fili did it for me..." I turned to the dwarf in question, but found that he was no longer there. Fili had moved over to the fire, joining his brother and the rest of the dwarves at breakfast.

"Hey," I said to Bilbo, remembering something. "Did you know that dwarven women have beards?"

Bilbo, who had just taken a drink of water from his mug, choked.

"Of course!" he spluttered. "Doesn't everybody know that?"

"Well I didn't," I said, sulkily, scuffing my old boot over the ground. I had been looking forward to impressing the hobbit with my knowledge.

"Oh yes," said Bilbo, musingly. "The longer the better, I believe. 'Beauty is measured by beards'. That's the rule I think that dwarves abide by."

Suddenly miserable for no apparent reason, I ran a hand over my very-much hairless chin, frowning.

"Don't worry," said Bilbo, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "I'm not sure Thorin would be more accepting of you, even if you had a footlong beard."

He gave me a smile that I was sure was meant to be reassuring, but I did not feel comforted. While I may have not known the exact reason for my present misery, I was quite sure that Bilbo had gotten the wrong end of my sad stick.

x-x-x

The weather underwent a dramatic change as we trekked up towards the mountains. The moment our feet stepped off the soft, grassy slopes, and made contact with the stony, uneven ground of the mountain path, the skies clouded over, and the heat of the sun disappeared almost at once. As we climbed higher, the terrain became rockier, and more difficult to navigate our feet over. Even some of the dwarves, with their thick, sturdy boots, could be seen tripping and stumbling over the path. I had once again found myself in charge of a heavy sack of utensils, and I was struggling to remain upright under its weight. This was something that became increasingly difficult as the day wore on; a few hours into our trek, and the light breeze that we had set out in was fast becoming a cold wind, strong and forceful. My cloak whipped around me, and I was very glad I had donned Ori's homemade woollen trousers, and was not still stuck in my floaty skirt.

By late afternoon, the wind had turned into an all-out gale, and thick, cold water droplets were now falling from the darkening sky, splashing onto our faces and to the path below, where they pooled, making the stones wet and slippery under foot.

"What's going on?" I cried out to Bilbo who was in front of me. I was surprised at the high-pitched element of fear in my voice.

But Bilbo did not get a chance to answer me. For, at that moment, there was a great crack of thunder in the sky, and the whole mountain shook. Bilbo slipped, and went veering over the edge, and would have fallen to his death, had Bofur not grabbed him just in time, pulling him back against the wall.

The rain was now splashing down heavily, and the wind was howling as more thunder ripped through the blackened sky.

"This is no mere storm!" I heard someone cry from further up the line.

And then, out of nowhere, a great figure, as tall as the mountains themselves and made of solid rock, loomed out of the darkness.

"Storm giants!" shouted Bofur, his hand still clamped round Bilbo's arm. "So the legends are true!"

I gazed up at the storm giant. But there was no thrill or excitement pulsing through my veins; only terror.

The storm giant moved, just as the floor beneath us gave an almighty lurch. I threw my arms out wildly, trying frantically to grab hold of something solid and sturdy, but everything was slippery and moving about. There was another crack through the sky and, just behind me, the stone mountain path gave way. It ripped right down the middle, separating out group in two. I gave a cry as the stone structure lurched this way and that, before eventually slamming into the mountain face once more. We watched in horror as the rest of the dwarves were hurtled about on their rock. My heart was pounding in my chest, as I feared imminent death for all of us. Then, there was a loud crash, and the rock containing half our party slammed right into the mountain edge.

"Fili!" I heard someone yelling through the fading sounds of thunder. The storm giants were moving away.

Everyone scrambled over the wet rocks to get to the others who, by some miracle, all seemed to be alive; squashed in a heap on a ledge of the mountain. Panting, as the dwarves began getting to their feet, I leant against the wall that was thankfully no longer moving, and closed my eyes. But then they snapped open again at the sound of alarm.

To my absolute horror, I saw Bilbo hanging treacherously off the edge of the cliff, his fingers barely grasping the slippery rocks.

"Grab my hand!" Bofur yelled, throwing himself on the floor to try and reach the hobbit, while Ori made similar frantic movements. I wanted to move closer, I wanted to help, I wanted to be heroic, but I was frozen to the spot in horror. Thorin Oakenshield then leapt down onto a ledge, and heaved Bilbo up into Bofur's arms.

If I hadn't lost the ability to breathe normally, I would have exhaled a sigh of relief. But my lungs didn't seemed to be working properly, and all I could do was make a strange rasping choke in my throat. Dimly, through the darkness and hysteria, I saw Dwalin's massive frame haul Thorin up from the mountainside.

"I thought we'd lost you," I vaguely heard Bofur say.

"He's been lost ever since we left the Shire," said Thorin, who was breathing heavily. "He should never have come."

The dwarf now turned away from Bilbo, and looked to where I was standing.

"We'll make camp here for tonight," he said. "Check to the back of the cave. These mountains are seldom unoccupied."

I realised then that I had been leaning against the opening to a dark cave build into the mountain face. Dwalin swept past me, striking up a flaming torch seemingly out of nowhere.

"Seems alright," he declared. "Cold, though."

"Well, let's get a fire going," said Dori, as everyone trooped into the cave, dimly lit by Dwalin's torch.

"No," said Thorin, sharply. "No fires tonight. Just try to get some rest. Bofur take the first watch."

I lay down in the darkness of the cave, staring up at the black ceiling, and shaking. It was cold in the cave, but it was not just the low temperature that was sending tremors through my body. I was terrified. There was no other word for it. The incident with the storm giants had shocked and scared me, and now I lay there in the cave, more frightened than I could ever remember being before.

How could I have been so foolish? To think of adventures as nothing but one thrill after another? To think of near death experiences as exciting? Anneli Rose had been right-it had been childish to think in this way. I was a coward. I realised this now; by the way my body was still trembling, and he way that tears still threatened to fall from my eyes at any moment. Most likely the only thing that had kept crying at bay so far was that I thought if I started to cry, I would never stop, and would end up bawling into Thorin Oakenshield's fur coat.

I was so disappointed in myself; I had left my home seeking an adventure, and had gone to pieces at the first sniff of danger. Who had I been trying to kid? Adventures weren't exciting, thrilling places for young people dreaming of fame and fantasy. They were dangerous and scary, and not for foolish girls like me, who were stupid enough to believe that they had a hope at becoming an adventurer. I shivered again at the thought of the storm giants. Someone near to me; Fili or Kili or Ori, coughed in their sleep, and I jumped, jittery. Would this long, dark night ever end?

I wanted safety, I decided. I wanted reassurance. I wanted stability I wanted to go-

"Back to Rivendell."

A voice interrupted my thoughts. I had been so wrapped up in them that I had not been aware of a curious conversation unfolding at the mouth of the cave.

"I don't belong here. I should never have come."

I twisted myself slightly so I could view the opening of the cave. Peering past Kili's sleeping face that was now turned toward mine, I saw Bilbo stood next to Bofur, his stature illuminated by the light of Bofur's torch.

"Thorin was right," Bilbo said. I noticed now that his bag was packed and slung over his shoulder. "I should never have gone running out of my front door."

I frowned. Was Bilbo...leaving?

"You're homesick," soothed Bofur. "I understand. I-

"No, you don't!" interrupted Bilbo, his voice rising slightly. Kili shifted, frowning in his sleep. "No you don't understand. None of you do. All you lot," he gestured around at the sleeping dwarves. "You're used to this way of life. Never belonging anywhere. You haven't got a home-none of you have!"

There was silence following Bilbo's words. They were true, there was no denying, but they were also harsh.

"I'm sorry," said Bilbo after a while, obviously realising this. "I'm sorry, I-

"No you're right," said Bofur softly. "All of us. We've no home to go to. We don't belong anywhere."

Perhaps I was more similar to these dwarves than I realised before. I had never belonged in Rivendell, and yet now I'd found I didn't belong out in the adventurous wild either. Maybe I didn't belong anywhere.

"I wish you every luck in the world," Bofur was saying.

Wait, so Bilbo was going back to Rivendell? Couldn't he take me with him? I may not belong there, but I'd rather be not belonging somewhere safe than not belonging out here in the dangerous wild!

Then, all of a sudden, I felt a strange juddering sensation in the floor beneath me. The very foundations of the cave seemed to be slipping slightly.

"Wake up! Wake up!" Thorin's urgent voice now echoed through the cave. I sat up. All around the dwarves were raising their heads, bleary with sleep.

"Was-goin-on?" slurred Kili.

But no one had time to answer the young dwarf, before the floor itself gave way completely, and we were sliding down into darkness.