Next chapter! Yay! I've got a lot more of my other story written up, but I feel like I've been neglecting this one so I figured I'd throw this chapter up first! Thanks to everyone who had followed/reviewed/favourited, it means the world to me! Please keep them coming 3


Chapter 8

I've never had much interest in caves, truth be told. I don't like the idea of getting stuck somewhere with rock pressing in on all sides, gives me shivers – luckily the troll cave was nothing like that.

"Ugh, what is that stench?" Nori asks as we descend into the dark, damp depths of the troll cave. That's a bit dramatic sounding, it wasn't as if it was miles underground or anything, just a few feet down into a spacious, smelly cavern. I was trying to set the mood!

"It's a troll hoard," Gandalf says, as if that should be reason enough for the smell. I suppose it is, actually. "Be careful what you touch."

It really does reek down here, like something that's been dead for a while and left out in the sun to rot. Make that several something's. I cough, fighting back the urge to gag while covering my mouth and nose with my hand as I follow Dwalin down the short slope into the cave. The dwarfs split up, each wandering away to see what riches they can unearth in the refuse. I hang around near the entrance, not really wanting to move any further in due to the bones that were scattered across the floor, and the creepy crawlies that slithered between them – at the same time, however, I wanted to get my hands on a sword.

I know, I probably shouldn't be given a weapon that could potentially end up embedded in another member of my group but we all know what's coming up and I haven't even got my bat any more. I really feel like I should have something to defend myself with!

"Seems a shame to just leave it lyin' around," Bofur speaks somewhere to my right, and I turn just in time to watch several gold coins fall through his fingers. "Anyone could take it."

"Agreed," Gloin rumbled, looking over his shoulder. "Nori, get a shovel."

The star-haired dwarf did just that, returning to his companions a moment later to begin digging. I don't stay to want and instead I ventured forwards slightly, to where Thorin is examining a barrel of shiny, pointy objects that look of great interest.

I am cautious about standing too close to him. The time spent locating the troll hoard seems to have cooled him off a bit, but I'm not stupid enough to think he's forgotten about our little spat. His memory can't be that bad. Unfortunately.

"These swords were not made by any troll." Thorin mutters, taking one of the two he'd picked out of the barrel and passing it to Gandalf who has also wandered over, and ignoring me completely. The wizard took it in his hands and examined it carefully.

"Nor were they made by any smith among men," He says, blowing away the cobwebs that have gathered around it's handle. Ugh. Gandalf pulls the sword from it's sheath, revealing a ridiculously silvery blade. "These were forged in Gondolin, by the high elves of the first age."

Thorin looks like someone has handed him a dead baby.

I snort back a laugh at the look on his face, I don't need to give him any more reasons to hate me.

"You could not wish for a finer blade!" Gandalf rebukes him, and Thorin pauses in putting his sword back. Apparently he does listen to our resident wizard, when it suits him. Who knew?

"I'll have it, if you don't want it," I say cheerily when neither of them speak. "Bit big for me though."

Thorin grunts and once again does not acknowledge my comment, surprise, surprise. He does however pull the blade a few inches from it's casing to look at it, tilting it this way and that in the dim light of his torch. It know swords aren't supposed to be considered pretty, but this one is and despite sitting in a troll cave for god's know how long it's as reflective as a mirror - and probably quite sharp, though I'm not interested in testing that theory.

Gandalf nods to himself and rests his own sword against himself, turning away to explore the cave a little more. I suck my teeth, making that sound that annoys everyone and shove my hands into the pockets of my trousers, feeling like the third wheel on a date.

Thorin braces himself on the edge of the barrel and exhales loudly, as if my very presence causes him to have war flashbacks or something. Is that the sound of his teeth grinding I can hear?

"Do you think it wise to trust you with a sword?" Thorin questions after a moment when I don't move away. He slaps the elvish blade back into his scabbard and glances at me over his shoulder. I shrug.

"Do you think I'll survive without one?" I ask. He snorts, actually snorts, as if he doesn't think I'm going to survive at all, sword or no sword. This is potentially the first bit of humour I have seen on his face and I don't like that it's directed at me - He might be right, but he doesn't need to be so obvious about it. "Hey! I've already helped save your arse once already! Don't be such a prat."

Once again I curse my stupid mouth – we've literally just finished fighting and now I'm provoking him again! What is wrong with me?

"As you say." He mutters cooly. For a moment I think he's going to walk off and leave me standing there like the idiot I am, but to my surprise he doesn't. Instead he turns back to the barrel, seizing the swords one by one and checking them out. The third he pulls out is shorter than his own and the one he handed Gandalf, but is still longer than the short sword that will be gifted to Bilbo. He grunts, rests what I know to be Orcrist, against his leg and removes the sword part way from it's sheath.

The blade glimmers in the darkness, the same way the elvish swords did, which apparently satisfies the dwarf king because he shoves it into my arms.

"Awesome!" I say, grinning like an mug.

"Try not to hurt yourself with it." Thorin says cattily, striding off to where the other dwarfs are still burying their treasure.

"Your concern is touching," I say as I too turn back towards the others. "No really, I feel all warm and fuzzy inside!"

"Let's get out of this foul place," Thorin commands, no longer paying attention to me other than to give me a glare. That is an expression I will receive frequently over the coming months. "Come on, lets go, Bofur! Gloin! Nori!"

I head over to the entrance, following Thorin's steps until something flies towards at me, hitting me in the chest. I let out a gasp of panic till I realise it's just a few strips of jumbled leather which now lie tangled by my feet. I look up with a frown to see Dwalin smirking at me.

"What was that for?" I ask, stooping down to extract the straps from what looks like a human leg bone. Gross.

"It's a sword belt lass," He clarifies, though that smirk hasn't left his face. "For that little needle there. Unless you're intending to carry your blade all the way to Erebor?"

"Bitch I might be." I mutter to myself when I know the bald headed dwarf is out of earshot, untangling the belt as I follow him up and out of the cave. It's a strange looking contraption, this thing. It's made of dark leather, quite worn, but then again I don't know how old it is or who had it before me, so that's probably understandable. The thickest strap is the actual belt, but it has another small strip that I assume is meant to go round the leg? To secure the sword, maybe?

I have no idea what I'm doing.

"Lady Harker, hurry up," Thorin commands, watching my struggle. "And do try not to accidentally stab someone."

"I can guarantee it won't be an accident if you don't shut up!" I grumble quietly, once again not loud enough to for the comment to be heard by the intended dwarf, though it seems as if Bofur has heard me because he chuckles and makes his way over to me.

"Ya havin' trouble there lass?" He asks, grinning at me from under his floppy hat. I nod slightly, defeated.

"How the hell does this thing work?" I ask, thrusting the sword belt in his direction, feeling disgruntled by the entire situation. I should be able to work out a belt by myself. "What are all these bloody straps for?"

"Ah, well this one goes across ya shoulder, see?" He explains, pulling at the larger of the two straps which I had assumed was for the waist – being a belt and all! "An that one going round tha middle!"

"Oh," I mutter, frowning. Why can't things just be simple in my life? "Uh, thanks!"

"No problem my lady!" He says, tipping his hat and giving me a wink as he turns back to the others, leaving me to wrestle myself into the sword belt.

I strap the sword into it's place and shrug the large strap over my shoulder so it sits across my body – this particular style of belt was not made with a woman in mind, I decide – then buckle the smaller one around my waist.

Hmmm.

I grab the hilt which is sticking up over my left shoulder and draw it out experimentally. It's not awkward to pull out, though I'm dubious about getting it back in without stabbing myself in the shoulder a few times first.

The sword itself is a little shorter than my arm - the same shimmering metal as Thorin's own sword - with elvish swirls etched into the curving blade. Very fancy.

"Bam chicka wow wow!" I say to myself, smirking and swinging the sword (making sure there is no one in the immediate vicinity, obviously). It feels light in my hands, as if it's not made of metal but something much lighter, like polystyrene or feathers or something.

I can see Gandalf chatting to Bilbo who is holding a short sword in his hands and looking distinctly uncomfortable about it. I smirk and manage to slide my own sword back into it's sheath without too much trouble, then I make my way swiftly over to where Mal is waiting with Fili and Kili.

"Check me out Mal!" I say, booping him on the nose as I sling my rucksack and bedroll up onto my back. He barks, tail wagging madly.

Yeah, we're ready to wreck shit now!

"That's a very nice sword Uncle has given you." Fili observes as I turn to them, pulling the straps of my bag tight.

"A fine gift indeed." Kili agrees from beside his brother. I snort.

"Not so much a gift as something he pulled out of pile of troll crap," I say, scratching my cheek slightly. "But yeah, it's an awesome sword."

"A awesome sword?" Fili questions, his eyebrows pulling down into a frown. "Is that a type of blade from your homeland?"

"What – uh- no, no!" I say, laughing. I forget they don't know what I'm talking about half the time. Hey, maybe that's why I get ignored so much? Yeah, that must be it. "No, awesome means cool – oh you probably don't know what that means either."

"We are aware of the changes in temperature." Kili huffs, as if I've implied the two of them are stupid. I sigh and tap my chin, trying to think of a way to word it that they will understand.

"No, awesome is something that is really good, or awe inspiring like – oh, all the hero's from those stories Balin is always telling?" I am not very good at explaining. "They're awesome, because they do all these daring, crazy things."

"I see." Fili says, though I doubt he does.

"Uncle Thorin is awesome?" Kili suggests cautiously, as if he's not sure he is using the word in the right context. It's certainly not the word I would choose to describe his majesty!

I am saved from any more awkward explanations of my choice in vocabulary when the sound of branches snapping and birds flying makes Thorin shout out "Something's coming!" from my left, causing everyone else to look up.

"Stay together," Gandalf orders, striding forwards. "Hurry now, arm yourselves!"

Everyone bursts into action – though they're going to be sorely disappointed with what turns up! They are all racing around, brandishing weapons and pulling themselves into tight defensive groups of three's and fours.

Gloin grabs me by the arm and shoves me behind his considerable bulk, to protect me I assume. I would have complained but at that moment I stumbled over a root and fell backwards onto my butt. You know when I said dwarf me didn't fall over as much as human me? I think I spoke too soon.

Luckily no one really noticed because a hoard of rabbits burst from the undergrowth, towing a sled with a dishevelled looking man screaming "Thieves! Fire! Murder!" - you guessed it: Radagast! This was pretty effective in drawing all attention away from myself.

He looks around for a few moments, as if not quite sure what he's doing here, surrounded by pissed off looking dwarves with weapons pointed at various bits of his person. Then Gandalf steps in, evidentially taking a moment to recognise his friend under all the moss and bird poop. Ugh. Someone is in need of a good herbal essence-ing I think!

"Radagast! Radagast the brown!" Gandalf says, sheathing his fancy new elven sword and striding forwards a few paces to reach his hippy friend. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Is it just me or does Gandalf not seem too thrilled about this sudden appearance?

"I was looking for you, Gandalf! Something's wrong! Something's terribly wrong!" Radagast says dramatically, waving a gloved hand all over the place.

"Yes?" Gandalf says cautiously, as if he's not sure he wants to hear what is so terribly wrong.

"..." Radagast opens his mouth and frowns, snapping it shut a moment later. He opens it again, closes it and taps his chin. "Oh, just give me a minute! Um, oh, I had a thought, and now I've lost it! It was right there, on the tip of my tongue!"

He points to his mouth, then his bushy eyebrows draw down and he hmm's.

"Oh! It's not a thought at all!" He says, opening his mouth wide and uncurling his tongue. "It's a silly old..."

Gandalf – the brave man – pulls the bug off of Radagast's tongue and holds it out to him.

"Stick insect!" Radagast finishes with a smile once the insect is safely back in his hand.

"That was pretty gross." I say from my place on the ground, though I receive a few looks I am mostly ignored. Shocking! I'm not the only one who thinks this is weird, I'm sure, though I can see Kili and he doesn't look as disgusted as he probably should – saying that he's probably eaten bugs for a dare before or something. Ugh.

Gandalf steers his forest loving friend away for a private little chat about wizard things. Myself and the rest of the company are not invited, which is find by me, since I already know what they're talking about.

"What are you doing on the ground lass?" Balin asks as Gloin moves away slightly and reveals me perched, quite happily, on the root I had tripped over.

"Sitting, Balin." I reply with a smile. He doesn't need to know I hadn't intended to sit.

"The purpose of that sword I gave you is to fight with. You can not fight sitting down, Lady Harker." Thorin's gravelly voice grumps as he comes up beside his older advisor. I roll my eyes.

"Yes, very true! And I need to be careful because those bunnies look terribly ferocious, don't they?" I ask, glancing over to Radagast's sled to watch as one of the rabbits scratches it's ear with a large back foot. It snuffles at the air for a moment and I turn back to Thorin. "Let's hope they don't tickle you to death with those fluffy tails of theirs!"

Thorin makes a noise that is probably best described as a growl, and stalks away from me. Balin shakes his head, a ghost of a smile on his face as he holds a hand out to me. I blink at it for a moment before I realise he's offering to help me up, which is very gentlemanly of him.

Balin looks really old, doesn't he? I feel like he should be tottering around with a zimmer frame or walking stick, not fending off trolls on a quest to kill a dragon - but I'm still not used to this dwarf ageing system yet. I'm surprised when he hauls me to my feet, but I know I shouldn't be – he's a strong old bastard!

"Thanks!" I say, brushing myself off. There are bits of forest all over me!

"Don't mention it lassie." He says, giving me a little bow before moving off to talk to one of the other members of the company. Mal joins me as I find a large log and put a booted foot onto it.

I re-tighten the straps on my boots, till I'm pretty sure no blood is getting to my feet, and make sure they aren't going to fall off. If I remember correctly I have a lot of running to do shortly – I don't like running at the best of times, I like it even less if I'm tripping over my own feet all the time. Man I really need to get myself a new pair of shoes, these ones are not made for more than a light wander – they're falling apart.

"Look at these Mal!" I grumble, tapping my boot. "Katie would go mental if she saw these! I only got them last year!"

Mal licks the side of my shoe, not fussed with my fashion problem in the least.

Happy that I will be able to at least run without falling down every other step, I make my way over to where Bilbo is standing just as a menacing howl cuts through the air. It would have been almost comical, the way all the dwarves heads popped up, like little meerkats – if it hadn't meant that Wargs were around.

"Was that a wolf?" Bilbo panics beside me. I shake my head slightly. "Are there- Are there wolves out there?"

"Wolves?" Bofur repeats, hefting his mattock in his hands. "No, that was not a wolf!"

I am already looking in the right direction, so I am the first to see the warg as it creeps down from the top of the incline. It's not a sight I will ever get used to, and I wish I could say it was something I wouldn't need to get used to - but that would be a bare faced lie.

"Shit!" I shout, grabbing hold of Mal who has also seen the warg and has immediately decided he doesn't like it. Damn it he's almost wrenched my arm off trying to get to the bloody thing!

The warg leaps down with a snarl, landing on poor Dori as it does so. Mal launches himself forwards, out of my grip and sinks his teeth into the wargs side as Thorin brings his sword down on it's neck – effectively ruining it's day.

Behind Thorin another warg has appeared, attempting a sneak attack on the turned back of the would be king. Kili has an arrow knocked and is letting it fly as the warg throws itself forwards. The arrow embeds itself into the shoulder, taking the warg off course and allowing Dwalin to bring his war hammer down on it's skull with a sickening crack. The overgrown wolf-creature thuds to the ground, dark blood seeping into the earthy floor.

There is silence.

"Fuck me, they're huge!" I say, breaking it. And they are! Mal is standing beside the dead one looking happy with himself, with warg blood staining his fur like rust. The warg is at least a head taller and a foot wider than Mal, though not nearly as pretty!

"Warg scouts," Thorin grunts, ignoring me in favour of yanking his blood smeared sword from the first wards throat. He steps away from the body and looks round at the company, eyes dark. "Which means an orc pack is not far behind!"

"Orc pack!?" Bilbo repeats, looking (or hoping) as if he's not heard right.

"Who did you tell of your quest?" Gandalf questions, stepping forwards. "Beyond your kin?"

"No one." Thorin answers.

"Who did you tell?" Gandalf demands, his voice rising. Ooooh dear.

"No one, I swear!" Thorin says. I am inclined to believe him, he looks just as freaked out by this as everyone else. "What in Durin's name is going on?"

"You are being hunted." Gandalf says after a second, putting everyone's mind at ease.

"Well shit.." I mutter, grabbing Mal and pulling him away. I wonder if he can get ill from warg blood, surely it can't be good for him - and I'm pretty sure he's swallowed some! Not healthy.

"We have to get out of here!" Dwalin says, though I think by this point everyone else has the same idea. Cue Ori!

"We can't!" Ori says right on time, appearing on a ledge slightly above us with Bifur in tow. "We have no ponies, they've bolted."

Bilbo is one hundred percent done now, and turns away, probably with the intention of hiding somewhere and never ever coming out. That's what I want to do anyway. I am however struck with an unexpected feeling of loss for Betty - I doubt I will ever find a pony as uncaring as her.

"I'll draw them off!" Radagast offers after a moment, but Gandalf turns to him with a frown.

"These are Gundabad wargs! They will outrun you!" The grey wizard says, shaking his head in exasperation, as if his colleague has just said something extremely foolish. Which he has! Who in their right mind volunteers to be warg bait?

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits," Radagast says slyly, smirking as Gandalf turns to face him again. "I'd like to see them try!"

"So what? These Rhosgobel rabbits are like duracell bunnies or something?" I question as Radagast strides purposefully to his wooden sled to get ready. Gandalf glances at me, then sighs.

"I do not know what an 'duracell bunny' is my dear lady," The wizard informs me, shaking his head slightly. "But they are very fast, fast enough to outpace a warg."

"We hope." I said cheerily, turning to watch Radagast. The brown wizard bids us a hasty farewell and was off, his fancy rabbits carrying him off at neck break speeds through the trees and out into the open. I blink after them, surprised despite myself.

Howling fills the air and I have just enough time to grab Malik's face – still sticky with warg blood, I might add- and order him to stay with me – to heel! Whether he understood I will never know, his only answer was trying to lick my face.

Gandalf leads us off, and we wait behind a conveniently large and well placed boulder as Radagast draws the orcs away, shouting and yelling much like he had on his arrival. The wargs and their riders give chase, speeding after the rabbit sled like their arses are on fire! Once our own wizard deemed it safe enough we set off with a rough "Come on!"

I ran full tilt after Gandalf, will Mal at my side. It should be mentioned that Mal looks like he's having a great time – tail wagging, tongue hanging out of his mouth and running lazily while I pant and puff to keep up.

We come out from behind several clumps of rock, Thorin leading the way, only to find that Radagast has doubled back and is now in front of us with the entirety of the Orc pack a few steps behind.

"Stay together!" Gandalf says, I nod, even if he wasn't talking directly to me. I'm sticking with him whether he likes it or not!

"Move!" Thorin orders, turning us around and heading back.

Oh god I'm so unhealthy!

We sprint – dwarves are natural sprinters, didn't you know? – across the rocky plain, trying, and failing, to get away from the warg riders that somehow keep popping up in front of us. Damn it Radagast you had one job!

I almost slam into the back of Dwalin as he grinds to a stop. Shockingly the orcs are unknowingly blocking our path again.

"Ori no!" I hear Thorin shout from up front. "Go back!"

I need to rest. Phew, I can't breathe!

"Come on, quick!" Gandalf chides, motioning us all on again. I give him the dirtiest look I can manage whilst panting before puffing after Dwalin.

I barely hear Thorin's question of "Where are you leading us?" over the sound of blood pumping in my ears and my own heavy breathing. Good question Gandalf! Thorin is going to be so pissed!

More running! Joy! We must have covered a mile already with all this doubling back and turning around. Man, I'm tired. I wonder briefly if the wargs will overlook me if I simply lie down and play dead - probably not.

I carry on as best I can, keeping Gandalf in view but running beside Dwalin – I think he'll save me if something happens – I hope.

The orcs round the rocks up ahead so we flatten ourselves against one of the larger boulders and hope it provides enough cover to hide us. I grab Mal again, crouching slightly and pulling him against myself so his butt doesn't stick out and give us all away.

"Alright boy," I whisper to him. More to comfort myself than him, since he's having a whale of a time! "We'll be safe soon."

But not too soon! Oh no! It wouldn't do to be out of danger so quickly, would it? Because of course there is a warg rider on top of the rock we're hiding against. Obviously.

I don't look up, I keep my face stuffed against Malik's neck, holding him in place so he doesn't do anything stupid. I know that if I look up I will see Thorin motioning for Kili to use his bow against the warg – I know I will see Kili take a deep breath, fit his arrow and then jump out, firing said arrow into the chest of the warg.

There is a roar of pain, and another twang as Kili looses a second arrow into the rider. I do look up then, because Mal wants to join the party, and he hasn't been invited! He strains against my hold on him and it's all I can do to keep him in place - his size and strength more than I can contend with.

The warg and it's orc rider tumble gracelessly from the rocks, landing a few feet from where we are taking refuge – and it's not quiet about it. The warg is howling and the orc is spitting curses in whatever language these freaky little bastards speak. Whatever it is the orc is saying I think we can all safely assume it isn't something pleasant.

Dwalin and Bifur jump in and quickly finish off the two attackers, but not before they've alerted all of the other orcs to our presence.

"Any chance the rest of our pursuers were deaf?" I ask, standing from my crouch, fingers still wrapped around Mal's collar.

You guessed it, I'm ignored.

"Move!" Gandalf says, almost quietly at first but then he shouts: "Ruuuuun!"

We don't need telling twice!

We run. We run hard and we run fast – though we do not enjoy it! Well I certainly don't, I can't speak for the rest of the company.

"There they are!" Gloin says, a little unnecessarily as he spots warg riders closing in from the distance.

"This way!" Gandalf shouts. "Quickly!"

Despite our best efforts to outpace the orcs, we soon find ourselves surrounded on the plain, wargs popping up all over the place.

"There's more coming!" Kili informs us. Great!

"Kili!" Thorin shouts, turning in a circle to confirm that yes, we are indeed in the shit. "Shoot them!"

I have once again found myself near Bilbo – my kindred spirit in all things scary and dangerous. He is standing with his little sword clutched tight in both hands, I draw my own though I'm under no illusion that I have any idea how to use it.

"Mal!" I call to him. He is standing a few feet in front of me, tail up, hackles raised and ears pointed straight up. "Stay here, Stay!"

"We're surrounded!" Fili shouts. Oh I am getting sick of these dwarfs pointing out the obvious. Stay calm. Keep breathing.

"Where is Gandalf?" One of the dwarfs shout. I'm not sure who it was to be honest, I was too busy wetting myself.

"He's abandoned us!" Dwalin shouts back – I know his voice, the pessimistic bastard. Bilbo starts to back up, grabbing me by the elbow and tugging me along with him, I don't resist. We're both little, I'm sure we can find somewhere to hide!

"Malik, come here!" I snap as I move backward, he comes after a moment, very slowly.

"Hold your ground!" Thorin orders, pulling Orcrist from it's sheath where it catches the light of the sun. Perhaps he could dazzle the orcs to death – that sword is ridiculously shiny!

The orcs are closing in when Gandalf pops up from behind the rock, brandishing his staff, thank god! I knew he hadn't left, but he sure was taking his sweet time to save me!

"This way, you fools!" The wizard shouts, disappearing again, seemingly into the very earth itself – though we all know this isn't the case, don't we!

"Come on move!" Thorin yells, going an acrobatic little leap onto one of the rocks at the entrance of Gandalf's secret passage. "Quickly! All of you! Go, go, go!"

Bofur, then Bilbo disappear down the hole, and I am about to follow when I realise that Mal isn't with me any more, that little shit!

Balin, Gloin and Ori rush past me, and I step back, not wanting to block their path. Malik is few meters in front of Thorin, snarling and growling at the approaching wargs. What on earth does he think he's doing? I am vaguely aware of Thorin cutting down a warg to my right, as Bombur rolls himself down the slope to join the others.

"Malik I swear to god!" I shout. "Get back here now!"

He grunts and ignores me -just what I need- and instead moves forward as Thorin shouts a drawn out "KILLLLIII!" from my right. Mal bolts, heading full pelt towards the younger dwarf who is doing a two hundred meter sprint towards us with a full complement of warg riders on his tail and gaining.

I think I am shouting for Mal to come back, but I can't really remember - all I can recall is watching him running towards the bad guys. Only then Malik does something I really don't expect. He skids to a halt just before Kili passes him and turns again so that he is behind the dark haired dwarfling – then he pushes forwards, wedges his head between the dark haired dwarf's legs so that Kili is now sitting on Malik's shoulders and races back towards us like a bat out of hell!

What the actual fuck?

Mal is far quicker than Kili, even with the added weight of the dwarf on him and soon the two of them are sailing down through the gap in the rocks – almost braining Kili against the stone in the process – leaving Thorin and I standing with baffled expressions as the orcs close in. Luckily Thorin doesn't know that this is extremely weird behaviour for my pooch and is therefore less confused by his actions. The exiled king grabs my arm, swings me round and the two of us slide down against the cool stone.

I land in a jumbled and quite frankly awkward heap at the bottom, having not been expecting the trip in the first place and also trying not to stab someone with the sword I am still holding. Thorin just sort of gracefully skims down to the bottom and is on his feet a few seconds later. Bastard.

He does, however, grab me by my shoulder and hoist me to my feet, wary of my flailing sword. I am then shoved against the wall and pinned there with the back of his arm as his attention is drawn to the opening above us.

Horns blare somewhere on the plains, followed by the sounds of orcs and wargs dying, which I quite liked.

Thorin is annoyingly strong and I can't shove his arm off me until an orc body appears, tumbling into our hiding place and landing with a fleshy thud at the feet of the dwarfs. I use this moment to extract myself from between the rock and the grumpy king and stomp over to Mal who wags his tail like an idiot.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I ask him, receiving a head tilt from Mal and a few confused looks from the dwarfs. "What was the stunt you just pulled? You've never done anything like that before! You're not a bloody warg!"

"Elves." Thorin says with distaste behind me as he yanks an arrow from the orcs body, dropping it a moment later as if it burnt him. He and Gandalf share a not entirely friendly glance. I feel like he's overreacting slightly.

"I cannot see where the pathway leads!" Dwalin's voice echoes as he shouts, having the good sense to look for another way out. "Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it, of course!" Bofur says, heading off after the tattooed dwarf. I huff and turn away from Mal, who does not seem bothered by his earlier actions nor my utter confusion at them.

"I think that would be wise." Gandalf murmurs as the rest of the dwarfs file out and only Bilbo and I remain. The hobbit and I share a look.

"I'm not entirely sure our ending up here was a coincidence." I say offhandedly as we join the end of the exiting company, I trail after the halfling, Mal and Gandalf following behind.

"Whatever do you mean?" Gandalf questions from behind me, I glance over my shoulder to see him smile slightly, eyes twinkling.

"Oh nothing," I shrug. "It's certainly lucky those elves showed up when they did though."

"It certainly is," Gandalf agrees. "I'm sure you've heard plenty about elves from our companions?"

"Oh yeah, Thorin's favourite topic of conversation," I snort, making sure he isn't nearby. "He practically has an aneurysm every time they're mentioned."

"An.. aneurysm?" Gandalf questions, pronouncing the strange word awkwardly.

"Oh. Shit," I grumble to myself, more explaining. This one is way above my pay grade. "It's this blood thing that – actually never mind, the point is it's bad, like.. a heart attack!"

"A heart attack?" Gandalf repeats, still confused. Why do I keep doing this to myself?

"Maybe you don't call them that here," I shrug, scratching my temple. "Cardiac arrest? D'ya know what, forget I said anything!"

"I will try," Gandalf says with a chuckle, though when I glance back he is looking at me strangely. He smiles. "Well I suggest you make your own opinion of elves in any case, and perhaps take the dwarves feelings towards them with a pinch of salt."

"Pfft, a little more than a pinch," I grin. "Besides, I'm quite looking forward to it. That is where we're going, right? To see the elves?"

Gandalf does not either confirm nor deny this, just hmm's at me. Doesn't matter, he can evade my questions till the cows come home - we all know where I'm headed.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," I say, turning sideways to fit through a tighter gap – how on earth did Bombur get through here?- My backpack scrapes against the rocks but I'm through a second later. "Do you think they'll let me have a bath?"

"My dear I think they will insist on it."


Annnd there you go! Next chapter: ELVES! Once again hope you all like it and please review/follow/favourite as you see fit!