Chapter 7

To Share One's Memories

It took them nearly a whole week to leave the borders of the Shire. It was almost comical to Bo, who answered Ori, Fili, and Kili's inquiry from time to time of 'are we out yet?' She had taken the time to explain the boundaries of the land, how far the Shire actually stretched (and not just Hobbiton), as well as Tuckborough and Buckland. Fili had approached the subject with a critical eye, whereas his younger brother was merely content to question her on the issues that surrounded the Shire.

"It's not a very well-defended area, that's all I mean." Kili reiterated as he threw his bedroll down across the floor. He kicked his bag next to the head of his roll and turned to Bo with a hand below his hip. The rest of the camp had spread out and surrounded their fire with Bombur happily cooking away.

"It really wasn't chosen for its defense, Master Kili." Bo replied with her own bedroll already set as she sat upon it. "When we came down from the mountains centuries ago, theoretical history speculates that we chose that land for its fertile soil." Bifur trudged past her, his arms jerkily jabbing at his side as he went. Bo watched him with a bemused look, but turned at the sound of Ori's voice.

"From what mountains?" Ori asked with his journal open in his lap. Dori had already taken to his bedroll, his hands full with a cloth and string. Is he sewing? Bo wondered at the sight.

"We traveled west from the Misty Mountains, or so the Rangers have told me." Bo replied with her attention back to the youngest Ri brother. She shrugged her shoulders. "It's said that we traveled down to escape the dangers of Mirkwood and avoid the Easterlings."

"And you trust the word of these Rangers?" Fili asked, his brow furrowed. "What's to say they're not lying?"

"How would I know? I'm only fifty. Rangers, or some of them, are well past a hundred or so." Bo smiled gently at the young prince. "In any case, history is written by the victors and all stories turned to legends eventually."

"Horse dung," Oin interrupted with a heavy cough. "A well-kept history survives even the test of time. Dwarrow history is like the strength of a mountain, everlasting." Gloin and Balin nodded their heads in agreement, though a few of the others around the camp were silent as they dug into their meal. Bo held up a hand, releasing the argument.

Bofur stepped by her bedroll and held out a bowl for her. She accepted with a smile and nod, but placed the bowl in her lap, momentarily forgotten. Bofur sat next to her, while the three youngest were to her left. Behind her sat Dwalin and not far off to his left was Thorin, hidden away in the growing shadows of the trees.

"I find it strange," Bofur said after a moment, "that so little is known about Hobbits, and yet you seem to have so much to tell."

"There isn't much, really." Bo answered with a spoon lax in her left hand. She frowned and switched to her right, mindful of her fingers. Bofur's gaze flickered to her hand, but he said nothing. From the corner of her eye, she could see Ori look to ask her, but a swift kick from Dwalin sent a rock into his back and caused him to clamp his mouth shut.

Thank you.

"When you think about it…" Bo continued on as if she had missed the exchange. "We're simple folk. Good food, a good home… there isn't much more that we need. Unfortunately, I do believe that my kin have grown overly soft."

"What, do you mean around the middle?" Nori teased from the other side of the campfire. Bofur took a flick of his spoon and sent a rock sailing into the grinning thief's face, but as he dodged the project tile, Dori clapped a hand along the back of his head. Gloin and Bombur laughed at the sight of a fussing Nori desperately trying to keep his braids in place.

Bo chuckled. "That, as well. But no, what I mean… you've seen us. It's rare for a hobbit to have anything more dangerous than sheers or a pitch folk. The very idea that I have a sword in my possession is cause for gossip."

"Better to be able to defend yourself than to be left wishing you could." Dwalin grumbled from behind her. Bo raised a finger and nodded in agreement, silent as she was with a spoonful of stew in her mouth. "It's almost unnerving to walk through your village, mistress, and not even see an armed patrol, merely a gentle-folk with a jug of ale and a lantern."

"Ah, that." Bo nearly spat up her stew with her snickers. "Yes, well, we have no need for it. As I mentioned, the Rangers have kept us safe for centuries. For so long, in fact, that most of the hobbits even forget that they are there."

"Begging your pardon, mistress," Fili entered sternly, "but that's quite rude to forget one's gratefulness at being defended, and with no cause for repayment or tribute."

"I didn't say we were the brightest bunch, now did I." Bo snorted softly. "But the Rangers ask for nothing, nor do they come into our lands unless it is under great need."

"I did see a few odd looks from the Men when we stopped at the inn on the way." Bombur burped and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Bo winced at the sight, but snickered when Bifur tapped Bombur's cheek harshly with an edge of a cloth square.

"I would not be surprised. They hardly see hobbits beyond Bree. We don't travel far." Bo finished her soup and then stood to walk toward the edge of the camp, her voice carried over the gentle breeze. "We're farmers, not traders. I have seen a few dwarves, Men, and Elves come through to trade with the people of the Blue Mountains, but aside from that." Bo shrugged as she cleaned out her bowl with a small cup of water from the nearby bucket.

"And you, mistress?" Bofur asked gently. "You mentioned that you had left the Shire a few times before?" Bo could hear it in his tone of voice, his uncertainty at whether such a question was safe to ask. She returned to her bedroll after leaving her clean bowl with Bombur and gave Bofur a smile.

"I have, after that winter, I… became restless, you could say." Bo answered softly once her legs were folded neatly to one side. "Fighting isn't in a hobbit's nature, but my mother said that there was a bit more Took in me than most, much to my father's worry."

"Battle blood," Dwalin growled from behind. "Some of the dwarflings get it when they have their practice for battle. A restlessness that makes them fierce." He shifted and Bo could feel her muscles spark with movement for just a moment, the nervousness of having someone at her back with axes overcoming her sense to stay still. Again, she caught a small glimpse of Bofur as his eyes flickered to her, watching and waiting for her movements.

"I do not doubt that is the case with dwarves… or," She turned to Dwalin, her scar scrunched along her face, "What was it that you called a collection of dwarves? Dwarrows?" Dwalin nodded to her silently, his face seemingly forever stern and stone carved.

"Aye, lass." Balin said as he came alongside his brother to rest upon his bedroll. "It's the appropriate word to use for us. The other folk don't know it, or chose to ignore it."

"I understand," Bo replied, "Must be like when the Big Folk call us Halfings…" She lulled her head from one side to another, her gaze to the fire and her voice gentle. "It's not necessarily offensive, per say, but one hardly enjoys being referenced as half of something, for our worth or otherwise."

"But I can see it," Kili wondered lightly just beyond her left side. "Hobbits don't fight, nor do they have anything to be considered a threat, why –" A swift elbow from Fili stopped his brother with a grunt. Kili gave Bo a wincing, apologetic look.

"It's quite right, you know." Bo amended as she stretched her back out along her bedroll. "We're hardly a threat, I would venture even further to say we wouldn't stand a chance against anyone in a true fight." There was a heavy silence that blanketed the camp and after a while, Bifur made a great show of yanking his bedroll open and flopped against the ground, snoring loudly.

Bo chuckled, and the rest soon followed his lead.

0o0

The next morning Bo rose before the dawn peeked over the horizon. Bofur snored loudly beside her and the brothers just beyond him. Ori was to her left and was curled tightly into his knitted clothing and blanket. The sight made her smile and she sat up quietly. Dwalin grunted behind her and she stuttered in her movement. The dwarf was wide awake, it appeared, and fixed a glare at her before he continued with his whetstone along the edge of his axe.

Bo shuffled around the sleeping company and off the edge of the camp to stretch. Bifur sat against a tree and in his hands was a small piece of wood. The knife was in the other and he gently carved into the piece with steady hands. Bo finished her stretching and quietly padded over to him. She knelt and then folded her legs under her bottom, her hands resting in her lap.

Bifur murmured something in Khuzdul and shook the wooden piece at her, his eyes never leaving his knife or his hands.

Bo frowned, "For the last few days, I've noticed you only speak in your language… may I ask, have you always been that way?" His hands paused and he glanced up at her and not for the first time did Bo find herself at the end of a hard stare. She swallowed but held her hands firm against her fidget. The dwarf huffed and again, muttered something and his hand reached up and tapped the axe in his head.

"Your injury caused it?" She confirmed. At his nod, she continued, "Can you only communicate in… in your language?"Bifur stared at her and Bo realized how stupid her comment sounded. She shook her head and waved her hand with crooked fingers, "No, no. I'm sorry, I meant… can you only speak and write, in Khuzdul? Or are you capable of writing in Westron?"

There was a pause and then Bifur was a flurry of limbs as he moved closer to her and cleared the ground before them. Bo rolled back on her legs and they flexed out beside her and Bifur hastily scribbled something into the dirt with his thick fingers. Bo held her braid away from her face and leaned over to view his mangled lettering.

"That's strange, indeed." She said and Bifur looked up at her, his brow up to his hairline in silent inquiry. Bo pursed her lips and flashed a look to him before pointing to his scribbled wording. "Half of it does appear to be in Westron, I know these letters… but it seems that you… you start to revert back to Khuzdul, or what I assume is your language, as I do not know these letters…" She wasn't even sure they could be called letters, as they were more scratches than connected lettering.

Angrily, Bifur took his hands and motioned something, but only until the last of it did she realize he was trying to tell her something through the use of his hands. "Oh… oh! You, you can speak with your hands, like hand signals?" Bifur nodded and again his hands made the same gesture. Bo couldn't recognize the signals and sighed sadly.

"What are you trying to tell me, precisely?" Bo said quietly. Bifur chortled brightly and pointed a finger to something behind her, over her shoulder. She turned and nearly jumped out of her skin to find a grinning Bofur behind her. A hand flew to her heart and she gasped which only caused her companions to snicker.

"Oh, hilarious." Bo huffed, and then grinned at Bofur and Bifur, pleased at least to see the amusement. "Scare a poor lass right through her bones, you do."

"No harm meant to ya, mistress." Bofur answered and hunched down beside her. "But, to answer your question," Bofur slowly and carefully repeated Bifur's earlier gesture, and then tapped his chest with the end of his thumb. "Bifur was giving you my name. Or rather, telling ya I was behind you."

"Oh," Bo exhaled, surprised. "Oh, well, then I suppose it's no one's fault save my own for being so startled, is it?"

Bofur grinned. "Well, granted, you didn't know what he was trying to tell you, but I suppose you'll get accustomed to our strange ways." Bofur made to stand with a pat of his knee, but Bo reached out and placed her fingers just at the edge of his coat's cuff. Almost instantly, the dwarf went still and Bo frowned at the sudden reaction, but placed it out of mind for the moment.

"Wait," Bo said quietly. She turned her frown up to Bofur, and then glanced to Bifur for a brief second. "Isn't it against your culture to teach an outsider these… hand signals?" Bofur shared a look with Bifur, but the older dwarf muttered something harshly and seemed to make a crude gesture with his hand. Bofur snickered and shrugged.

"True enough and we weren't going to teach you any of it, which would be dangerous, indeed." Bofur said softly, a sad smile on his face. Bifur stilled and became quieter, his attention back to the wooden piece that laid forgotten on the ground beside him. Bofur murmured something to him in Khuzdul and then patted his shoulder before moving back to the waking camp. Bo turned her blue gaze from Bofur's retreating back to Bifur's avoidant gaze.

Are you lonely? She wanted to ask, but she would not insult him so. Instead, she moved closer to him and with her legs once again folded under her, she leaned over to catch his gaze. He glanced at her from under his heavy brow and slowly, she signaled with her own hands. Bifur looked up at her, surprised, but she continued and spoke as she signed for him.

"The Rangers taught me, a common language, with their hands." She said softly, each word given a shape with her hands and a pause so that he could follow, and perhaps even learn. "They used it, when speaking was, too dangerous." Then, with her crooked fingers, she pressed the first three to her chest and then gently moved to touch them just at his beard, not quite to his chest.

"I would like to teach you," She whispered for him. "So that we may speak, as friends?" Bifur stared, and stared for a long while, his dark eyes searched her face and she did her best to keep her smile upon her face despite the anxiety that grew within her throat. Did I go too far? Perhaps this was too personal? Too close? I am still just an outsider. She felt another come up behind her and her eyes flickered down to the boots, then back up to Bofur who returned. His face was somber, but he answered her.

"That would be mighty generous of you, mistress. He'll accept."

0o0

The rest of the camp arose with a call from Thorin. Some were already awake and packed (Bofur, Bifur, Dwalin, and Thorin) while others had dozed for a bit and watched as the sun came up over the hills. Bo made her way through the camp and found Gandalf down by one side, smoking his pipe quietly.

"You seem to be making friends, my girl." Gandalf said quietly with a small puff from his pipe. Bo shuffled up beside him and onto the rock he found as a perch. She remained quiet for a moment and adjusted her scarf around her neck. The trousers she wore were warm and plain, her coat tucked tightly around her.

"I would hardly call teaching one dwarf a new sign language as friendship, Gandalf." Bo murmured through a yawn. "It was just… disheartening, to be within the same company, but never speak a word to each other."

"You'll find that some within this company will never say more than a handful of words to you in a day, Miss Baggins." Gandalf replied with a raised brow. The camp was being dismantled behind them, bedrolls were packed away, bags tightened, the ponies saddled for the march ahead of them. Bo sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

"True, but it doesn't hurt to try. I just found it peculiar…"

"And what was that?" Gandalf asked when she did not continue. Bo held her hands out in front of her and with a rolling motion of leaves in a breeze, curled her fingers down into her palms until the crooked ones could not.

"He was making something, something small, with a wooden stub he had found." Bo released her fingers and rubbed her palms together. "I thought at first it would be something like another pipe, or maybe a new weapon of some sort… but then he made," and with a short flick of her hand and a gesture, she signed for Gandalf. The wizard puffed his pipe and smiled indulgently to her.

"It's a toy," Bo explained, "and at first I believed we had confused the signal, but he corrected me. A toy. What warrior makes toys, Gandalf?"

"They were much like you, Miss Baggins." Gandalf answered with a small nod of his head. He pulled the pipe away from his mouth and coughed. "Some of them here were not battle-hardened, nor veterans of the blade. Many, like you, were forced into a situation that no skill other than that with a blade could save them." At this, Bo glanced up and around at the company. They were all on their feet now, and the ponies nearly ready after a small, cold breakfast. A spear, axes, bow, swords, and knives were littered among the armored companions and Bo felt a shudder run through her body.

"Toymakers, bakers, miners, and jewelers; some were criminals, and others have found no place for themselves just yet." Gandalf said. Her gaze flickered to Ori, the young dwarf with a talented hand for words and portraits, a skill of his she had only seen last night. She turned her gaze up to Gandalf and he gave her a gentle sigh. "But unlike you, my girl, they had no home to return to, no one to calm them during the terror, for their nightmare has never ended."

"Oh, please don't say that." Bo whispered painfully. "I know of some dwarrows who have made a home for themselves in the Blue Mountains, surely they could have found peace there?"

"Peace?" Gandalf interjected with a sharp word. Bo hushed and turned her chin down, her gaze cast off into the grass. "Are they at peace? Are you, my girl? If you know that which gives darkness to your terrors exists, would you be at peace?"

"… perhaps that was a stupid thing to ask."

"Perhaps it was."

Bo slipped away from the quietly fuming wizard and found Myrtle. She raised her foot and just as the first time, a hand appeared over her saddle. She spared a look and found Dwalin along the other side of her pony, but without a word she took his hand and he pulled her up and over. She flashed him a grateful smile and he huffed before moving on to find his own mount. So strange, that dwarf. Bo shook her head and tugged on Myrtle's reigns and the pony slipped into a trot along with the others.

Their traveling was at a steady pace, fast enough that the ponies huffed and steamed with heat and sweat by the end of the day. The land they had crossed through was one of vague familiarity to Bo, some of the hills and forest ones she had seen with the Rangers when they allowed her to travel out with them. Her head would turn one way and another as she tried to place where she was and how far from the Shire.

Soon, though, the hills were unfamiliar to her and the forests were darker. She relaxed away from Gandalf's side and found her way to Bifur. Bofur came along beside her and not long after, they had a broken conversation going among the three of them. It was a slow process, but they managed their hellos and minor items like swords and tools. She even got a thank you from him, which warmed her inexplicably and brought a smile to her face.

Bo wasn't sure whether the dwarves had forgotten she was among their troupe or if they had grown accustomed to her presence, but the silence that followed them their first few days of travel slowly began to disappear. She could always see Balin and Thorin at the front, their heads turned one way or another to speak in hushed tones. Behind them rode Gloin and Oin who spoke loudly and spared a few moments to break into laughter now and again. Fili and Kili, she noticed, would wander up and down the line. They would accompany Ori for some miles, then up to Thorin, before trailing down toward her with the others.

Gandalf remained at the head, and that was where Bo would keep him, his sour mood having no less of a hold on him as before. She felt guilty for it, and as she gazed at the dwarves around her, her guilt grew. It was wrong of her to think that they could settle in just any place and leave their past well enough alone. If I cannot do it, I should not expect others to be more willing of the task. She could hear her mother's voice ring clear as day in her ears, 'Do onto others as you wish to have done unto you, Bo Billa Baggins.' She smiled and shook her head.

"Something on your mind?" Bofur quietly interrupted with a smile on his face. For a moment, she was struck by his expression. Something along the lines of his face, the turn of his smile or the twinkle in his eyes caught her and she smiled wider.

"You're a very peculiar dwarf, Master Bofur." Bo suddenly answered. Bifur huffed and chortled deep in his throat and gestured wildly with his fingers. Bofur laughed and tipped his hat to her gently.

"I'll take that as a compliment from you, mistress," there was a wicked grin that painted his face now, "mostly considering that the wizard made mention you were no ordinary hobbit, yourself."

"Right." Bo laughed. "I could not even imagine what he may have told you about me."

"Not much, to be honest." Bofur frowned and shifted in his saddle. "When we first took on this quest, he said that the fourteenth member was to be a hobbit by the name of Bo Baggins. That, when the line was cross, we would find no truer form of courage than yours."

Bo flushed from her face down to her chest and her mouth ducked into her heavy scarf. Why in blazes would he say anything like that? They'll expect to see something from me that I will not be able to give, that old wizened creature. Still, she would not think ill of the wizard, despite his meddling. She sighed and adjusted the scarf against her neck.

"You do that a lot, I've noticed." Bofur said quietly, and gestured to her scarf. "We, well, I thought at first you were… hiding another scar." He vaguely waved to his neck with a gloved hand and then hastily lowered it. Bo hesitated, but with a shake of her head, she lowered the scarf to reveal her pale neck. With a quick flash of her fingers, though, the skin was soon covered up.

"No scar. Just a nervous habit."

"One of those memories, mistress?"

"One of those memories, Master Dwarf."

Bofur nodded his head and left it at that. She swallowed and became painfully aware of the proximity of every dwarf to her. She closed her eyes and felt the scorch of fire behind her eyelids. She inhaled and held her breath as she rode along between Bifur and Bofur, and took a small notice to Bombur behind her. She exhaled and reached out to run her fingers through Myrtle's mane.

"When I meant peculiar," Bo started softly, catching Bofur's attention and gaze once more, "I meant that you… seem far more accepting of an outsider than the others." Her voice had been soft and carried gently through the space between them. Bofur's face frowned again and Bo couldn't help but think how awkward the expression appeared on his features. The other dwarves were made to frown and scowl, it seemed, Thorin most of all, but Bofur's face held a light to it that she couldn't spot in any of the others, even the brothers Fili and Kili.

"I suppose it goes something like this." Bofur answered a few moments later, having collected his words. She jumped in her saddled, startled by his voice, but careful pat from Bifur kept her mind steady. "Sorry, mistress, but what I mean to explain is that… well, this here is my cousin, Bifur. Bombur back there is my brother, by blood. We're not what you would call high class, aye?" Bo nodded with understanding and he continued. "So by that, our occupations were less… noble? Aie, no, that's not what I want to say."

"Less royal?" Bombur included from behind. Bofur shook his head and Bifur grumbled something with an angry shake of his head. He looked about ready to rock from his saddle and Bo feared for his stability upon his seat. Bofur laughed, "Aye! There you are, our work was menial, to say the least. We were toymakers, sans Bombur, who took after our mother."

"I wouldn't call toy making menial," Bo said politely.

Bofur shrugged. "Past that point, we dealt much more frequently with those who weren't strictly our kind. Dori there, with his brother Ori, well – they aren't necessarily high class either, but they're a bit higher than us by way of status."

"How so?" Bo frowned as her gaze shifted to the Ri brothers in front of her. Dori rode with Ori at his right side and Bo could barely hear the quiet words that were exchanged. Nori rode behind them, silent and mildly still upon his saddle, his fingers occasionally tying and untying the ropes among his bags.

"They're weavers, knitters, what have you." Bofur explained quietly with a hand to his hat. "Dori is a deceptive dwarf, and not by willing choice. By his hands, fine fabrics turn into fashion, and he's been known to mend a tunic or two that seemed hopeless. Don't let all that fool you, though," Bofur warned with a snap of his gaze to her. "He's the strongest of us all, can lift a boulder the size of you clear over his head, he can."

"Really?" Bo exclaimed, wide eyed. Her surprise was heard clear up the line and a few of the dwarves turned to look at her. She flushed brightly once more and ducked again into her scarf with a mean grumble to herself. Bifur could only laugh at her and smack his leg in amusement. Bo glared at him over the tuffs of her scarf and with one hand, angrily gestured to him. Bifur blinked, having seen the gesture before and howled with laughter.

"Oy, what did you say?" Bofur asked, surprised by his cousin sudden cheer. Bo grumbled and Bofur leaned in as close as the ponies would allow. "What was that?"

Bo grumbled louder, just enough for him to hear.

"You said what?! Hahaha!"

0o0

"No!" A clash of steel and the vibration echoed through her slender limbs. She cried in pain and fear, her heart hammered in her throat and she couldn't bring herself to breathe. She panicked and stepped back, but the shadow followed her and another swing came down on her. She screamed as the blow jolted the sword from her hands.

"Please! Please, no!" She cried desperately, her hands now scrambled on the muddy ground. Was it raining? When did it start raining? A crash of thunder clapped over her head and she pulled her hands up to her ears out of shock. There was a howl and she looked up, only to see the blade she lost come down along the left side of her face –

Bo awoke with a lightning strike flashing through her muscles. She clamped her teeth shut and swallowed the scream. Her limbs burned as she tensed to keep from shooting up from her bedroll in a panic. Another swallow and she exhaled. She closed her eyes and counted to ten and willed the tears to stay away. She thought she heard the faint echoes of screaming in distance, but no, that's nonsense. Why would there be…? She sat up and shuddered from the chill. Not far off from her and under the ledge of the cliff were Fili and Kili, the fire between them. The rest of the camp spread around her and she sighed, relieved.

She stood and shook the spark of nervousness from her bones. Her scarf came around her neck, tough and warm, and she shuffled her way over toward the ponies. There, Myrtle raised her head and nickered happily at seeing her rider. Bo smiled and reached out, petting the velvet nose that was pushed toward her. "Hello, darling. Good night so far, hmm?" Myrtle pushed into her hand again and whined. The pony moved back to her little patch of grass on the cliff. Bo felt her bones jump unexpectedly as a scream drifted from away.

Bo reached for her hip and cursed when she remembered her sword was tucked away under her bedroll. She quickly shifted over the rock with her bare feet and made it to her bed in time to hear another scream float along. Her eyes turned up and locked with the royal brothers. She swallowed and held herself still against the shake that threatened to take her. "… those are not human."

"Orcs." Kili replied. "Night raids, most like. Hunt after dark, when all are asleep."

"I know," Bo whispered. The faint smile that ghosted across Kili's face faded and he shared a heavy look with his brother. Fili shifted in his place and cleared his throat. Bo shook her head and flipped away the edge of her bedroll to pull out her sheathed sword and held it to her side.

"They won't come here, mistress." Kili told her softly. "They hunt mostly in the lowlands, and besides, what's a few orcs in the middle of the night for a band of dwarves?"

"You think a night raid by orcs is a good form of sport?" Thorin's low thunder ripped through the quiet of the camp. Bo gripped her sword tighter and gave Thorin a severe glare tossed over her shoulder as he walked past. He paused and glanced at her sword, but for the slightest of seconds his face furrowed and he inclined his head to her before moving on toward the edge to overlook the valley beneath them.

"We weren't trying to scare her…" Kili winced and gave Bo an apologetic glance. She pursed her lips to a thin, white line on her face and glanced away into the sky. A sharp snort came from Thorin and he glared at his nephews.

"Of course you weren't, but you did. You treat this quest as if it were a game and not a life-ending quest with the respect it deserves. You act like children, with no knowledge of the world." Even Bo winced at the harsh words that the young princes were whipped with, but couldn't find her voice to defend them. The brothers' gaze fell to their boots and their words slipped into silence. Satisfied that he had controlled them, Thorin growled in his throat and turned away from the camp once more.

Bo's gaze flickered over her shoulder to the chastised princes. She turned and shakily sat on her bedroll and placed her sword down beside her with a soft chime. Her crooked fingers lingered over the sheath before she tucked them away in the folds of her coat pockets. Balin came up silently from beside the princes, "Don't let his mood get to you, laddie. Thorin has a stronger reason than most to hate the existence of orcs."

"No one needs a reason more than that they exist to hate orcs." Bo grumbled as she drew her legs up and pressed her face into her knees and glared out over the edge of the camp. Balin paused and then sighed softly and shook his head while he returned his gaze to the princes. Softly, the boys shifted to bring their attention to Balin.

"Back when the Lonely Mountain was taken, our King Thror tried to reclaim Moria." Balin explained and leaned against the jutting rock that hung over the young princes. "But orcs had claimed the mountain pass and realm, first. We were shoved into battle for days, until the foulest of their kind came forth." A stillness had ghosted over the camp and Bo now turned with a frown, glancing at Balin. The older dwarf nodded his head gently and scuffed a boot along the rock.

"His name was Azog, The Defiler. He took to battle with a bloodlust unknown to us. Before long, he had managed to take a hold of our king… and beheaded him." A dark glare came across Balin's face and Bo swallowed with a hand to her neck. The camp around her stirred and stood to move closer to Balin. "Then, he scratched his own name into King Thror's head, and tossed both head and body out through the gates of Moria, lost in the fray of battle." Bo gasped softly at the image and shook her head, ducking back once more into the bends of her knees.

"Thrain, Thorin's father, went mad – stricken by grief or rage, and was lost. We could not find him, even after the battle." Balin sighed sadly and pushed away from the rock, his fists clenched tightly against his sides. "But there, in the madness, I spotted him. A young prince who stared down the wild orc, Azog." Bo's eyes flickered up over her knees to Thorin's back and she could see that his spine straightened, his attention focused on the story as well. Now well aware that he had become a focus, he turned hard and still, like the stone he once lived within, but did not turn around.

"He stood defiant against the enemy, and wielding nothing more than a broken branch, he fought back. He struck hard and took an arm," Balin shook his fist for emphasis, but his gaze was glued to Thorin's back. Bo's followed the line of his boots, the sharp edges of his sword and the fur that lined his shoulders. An unstoppable force is not to be trifled with, she could hear her mother say, and best to hope you're on their side. Ori stepped beside her and moved forward closer to Thorin. The rest of the camp had stirred and surrounded their exiled-king.

"Heh," Balin chuckled softly. "The enemy learned that day that the line of Durin would not so easily be killed. We rallied behind Thorin and drove our foes back into the darkness of Moria, shutting the gates behind them." A deep sadness echoed through Balin's voice and Bo turned away from Thorin to see a flicker of pain flash over the older dwarf's face. He crossed gazes with Bo and held her attention for a moment before he looked away, his brow furrowed. "But… our dead were beyond count and grief soon overcame us. We lost that day… but found a new hope."

There was a silence and Bo shifted uneasily. "Balin… what happened to Azog?"

"That monster died to his wound long ago." Thorin growled, startling Bo. She turned a sharp gaze to him, but his attention was to the ground where his boots stomped, and he moved angrily through the camp to his sleeping spot. Dwalin followed him easily and the camp settled awkwardly back into bed. Bo hesitated and turned to Gandalf. The wizard blew out from his pipe and sighed heavily. A cold pit set in the darkness of her stomach and she slipped into her bedroll, the fire doing nothing to ease the chill that worked into her soul.

Notes: It seems that with every update, these chapters come out longer and longer. I hope that's a good thing. A bit more of the story, a bit more bonding between Bo and a few of the dwarves, and hopefully a story that isn't just a copy-paste.

Edit: 9/13/14

Miss Queen, you're on the dot.

Please leave any comments or reviews, they're always encouraging!