AN: languages

"Westron" (Common tongue)

/Elvish/ (Mostly Sindarin)

~Iglishmek~ (Dwarvish sign language)

~Khuzdul~ (Dwarvish spoken language)

All rights belong to PJ and JRRT.

The third day of Blotmath, Shire Reckoning, is the equivalent of October 22nd, which is when Durin's day fell in 2941, when the Company enter the mountain.

Huge thanks to Nikolai and Calenithlon for the actual translations from Khuzdul and Sindarin to English (or vice versa). My Khuzdul would not be as good without them!

Chapter Eight

Thorin wrapped his arms around his wife as their borrowed skiff set off from Lake-town. All in all, they had stayed in the town nearly two full weeks, far longer than Thorin wanted for the sake of sparing Donnabelle the pain of recalling horrifying memories. But it had been Donnabelle that had convinced the dwarven leader that they should probably stay for the sake of relations and peace if their quest were to be successful. After all, Balin had been right: a day was not enough time to gather the necessary supplies needed to journey to the hidden door. Plus they had plenty of time to scout out for their way into the mountain: Durin's Day did not fall until the third day of Blotmath, Shire Reckoning, and they had found they'd arrived in Lake-town a full month before that.

The dwarven king rested his cheek on Donnabelle's head as they looked toward Erebor and he thought back to their final days of being in the world of men. He had to admit, he was pleased (and extremely proud) to know that though Donnabelle was not all that happy to actually stay in Lake-town after the first week the company had been there, she still had the courage to stay. For he knew there had been times she had threatened to return to her Shire and to her books no matter how much the dwarves promised she would not have to deal and interact with the men of Lake-town if she so chose.

As long as Donnabelle only had to deal with Bard (whom somehow managed to win Donnabelle's begrudging trust in the two weeks she and Thorin stayed with him) or his children, she was okay. The hobbit was a bundle of nerves if she dealt with anyone else from the town or who was a slimy grease ball.

The dwarves had all heard of the incident that had happened the previous day and they were glad for the chance to get away from it.

Fíli and Kíli had persuaded their aunt to join them on their last sojourn through the marketplace, picking up the last minute supplies they might need for their journey. She'd agreed, if only they promised to stay with her while they were in the marketplace and they wouldn't take too long. Oh, and if they called her 'Bilbo': there was no way she would be wandering around in the world of Men as a woman. They had readily promised and had watched as the hobbit they'd come to love as their aunt shifted easily back into the disguise the boys had first gotten to know five months previously. She herself wasn't so sure about her ability to keep her disguise up while in the marketplace but thought if the two princes were with her, she would be fine. It wasn't as if she was out looking to get emotionally compromised: it was only when she was extremely upset, angry or scared that she made mistakes and let her abilities slip (or when she was completely exhausted).

Donnabelle had stopped at one of the stalls near the end of their journey through the marketplace, finishing off a purchase for a Durin blue baby blanket (if she was asked later why she bought the blanket, she wouldn't have been able to say exactly why she had purchased it, just that she felt that it was right) when she overheard a conversation between a mother and daughter at the next stall over.

"Ma, do you think we'll ever meet the 'child of the kindly West'? What is that anyway?"

The question wasn't all that strange: Donnabelle hadn't spent a lot of time with the people of Lake-town, preferring to be alone or stay with only a few of the dwarves. But her face fell slightly at the mother's reply.

"The halflings of the West are just fairy stories, darling. They don't exist."

Fíli and Kíli stopped when they heard that and, trying to be helpful, decided to correct the mother. "Excuse me, madam; the Shirelings prefer to be called hobbits, not halflings."

"You've met one?" the girl asked, turning to the dwarves.

The woman frowned at the pair. "Excuse me?"

It wasn't until Donnabelle spoke up that the woman and her daughter even noticed that she was there. "Fíli, Kíli. Leave it. We should get back to Thorin."

"Who is this little fellow?"

Donnabelle turned to look at the woman and answered shortly, "I am a hobbit, madam."

"Hobbits don't exist."

"I assure you," the burglar in question snapped, "if hobbits did not exist, then I would not be here and the dwarves of Erebor would not have made it past the Misty Mountains." Donnabelle had a stern expression on her (male) face. "Tell me, have you ever seen a dragon?"

"No."

"How, then, do you know that such a beast exists?"

"Stories from my forebears."

Donnabelle set her jaw and nodded once. "And I assume you know about hobbits by the same principal?" The woman nodded in reply, so the hobbit continued; "If then, by your own reasoning and the tales you have heard, you know that dragons exist; how then can you turn around and state that another race does not using the excuse that we are just 'fairy stories'?"

The woman thought about it but still refused to believe it. Donnabelle hardened her eyes and balled her fists. "But can you actually prove it?" another woman asked. It was only then that Fíli and Kíli realised they were in trouble when they realised they and Donnabelle were gathering an audience. It dawned on Donnabelle around the same time, and she began to panic. She never really did well in large crowds and the marketplace was quickly becoming too much for the little hobbit. Looking around, she caught Fíli and Kíli's eyes and silently begged them to get her out of there and fast.

And if the two princes hadn't known their hobbit so well, they wouldn't have seen the slight change in her eye colour: her eyes went from her usual blue-grey colour to a stormy green. Her hair rippled slightly (a reflection of her inner turmoil) and the two dwarves were thankful that there was a slight breeze that day they could blame her hair ripple on if anyone asked. Quickly, they flanked her and were grateful for the next voice they heard.

"What's going on here?" It was Dwalin, which meant that Thorin probably wasn't too far behind either. Donnabelle looked around for the burly dwarf and as soon as she spotted him, she darted for his protection.

Fíli and Kíli were not far behind the hobbit and explained the situation. The two of them were not all that surprised at their uncle's bristling when he heard what had happened. All four dwarves surrounded the hobbit, shielding her from the townspeople. Thorin wanted to take his burglar into his arms but also knew it was not the time nor place to do that based on her disguise. But he did shift closer to her so that she could take comfort from the fact that he was there.

It was then that Bard appeared, and the bowman was able to take in the small circle of dwarves around a distraught (slightly unfamiliar) hobbit. He frowned slightly but decided to push it out of his mind as he focused on the others in the marketplace. "What are you all looking at?" he asked. "Do you want to frighten the poor hobbit more? Did your mothers never teach you that it's rude to stare?"

The crowds seemed to break up at that reprimand and Bard turned to the four dwarves with a puzzled expression on his face. Dwalin nodded his thanks to the bowman. It was only after Thorin led Donnabelle and the others back to their lodgings that they realised something: Bard had seen Donnabelle in her natural form, and just then in her male disguise in the marketplace. It wouldn't take him much to put two and two together.

Donnabelle had wrapped her arms around Thorin as soon as they were safely out of the open (and Thorin did not complain; he would use any excuse to have her in his arms).

Bard had returned a little later, giving the hobbit a chance to collect herself after her scare. He had a knowing look on his face as he looked around the dwarves. "Tell me, does Donnabelle feel safer pretending to be a male in large crowds because of her past?"

"Yes," Thorin answered immediately.

Donnabelle sniffed and looked up from where she rested her head against Thorin's chest. She pulled his arms tighter around her. "Last time I had dealings with men, my brother was killed. And… they were set to rape me." Bard had paled and felt horrified when she admitted that. No, the man didn't blame her for her avoidance of men, if that was what was in her past. And he didn't blame her for wanting to feel safer by dressing up as a male to go out in crowds.

The company said farewell to Bard and his children after they had spent a quiet night in his home and were thankful they were leaving the next day. In a way, so was Bard, though he would miss the tales the dwarves told to his children to keep them entertained.

Thorin planted a kiss on her forehead, causing the hobbit to look up at him. "I'm sorry we had to stay so long," he whispered.

"Not your fault," she returned and looked back over her shoulder at the fading outline of Lake-town.

"Tell you what, if you help me with negotiations with the elves, I'll do the negotiating with the men."

She snorted, knowing that she'd already negotiated with the elves for her dwarves' release from the Woodland Realm and that Thorin had done a lot of the ground work negotiating with the Lake-men. They had yet to fulfil the promises made to both races once the mountain was theirs again, but it seemed that they worked well together already. Thorin detested working with the elves (especially when Donnabelle could deal with them better) while Donnabelle shuddered at the thought of having to deal with the Lake-town Master and his gaggle of sleazy councillors.

Thorin smiled at the small snort he received from Donnabelle and pulled her closer to his side. Both revelled in the closeness they shared, despite the company surrounding them. Fíli and Kíli almost gagged when they saw their uncle bury his nose in Donnabelle's hair and started playing with their marriage braid.

"Save me from indecent exposure," Kíli called. "Innocent eyes here!"

"I'm going to kill him," Thorin whispered against the tip of Donnabelle's ear. She shivered slightly with desire.

"You can't," she whispered back. "He's your heir."

"Fíli's my heir."

"What would Dís say if she found out you were the one responsible for her son's death?" Donnabelle pulled back as soon as she finished speaking. She knew she'd gone too far with that comment. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

Thorin's expression had grown dark as he focused on the mountain ahead of them. "You're right. You shouldn't have. But Dís would make me feel her… displeasure if anything more than a cracked rib befell her sons."

Donnabelle tried to make herself smaller in the middle of the boat and wondered… no. She wasn't going to let her mind go there. But she couldn't help it. What would she do if she were in Dís's position? A shudder went down her spine as she focused on the dark waters of Long Lake. She prayed that she wouldn't be in position of a frantic mother anytime soon.

THTHTHTH

The first night on the trail after they left the lake was hard for Donnabelle. It was the first time Thorin did not offer her his coat and protection when they settled down to sleep since they had been 'married' unofficially three weeks before. In that time, it had seemed that nothing would get between them, or that Thorin would never get tired of showing his beloved his affections.

Oh, Donnabelle knew that there were times when things wouldn't be all daisies and roses and pretty things. She knew the man drove her up the wall, just as his brother had done. But it still hurt when she made her way to what had become 'their' bed and it felt like she wasn't all that welcomed. The last time she'd felt deliberately left out and ostracised was just after she first got back to the Shire, when her family wasn't sure of who she was, and they didn't know what she'd been through. Once it had become known in the Shire, and especially in Hobbiton, that Donnabelle had been a slave for her abilities, they rallied around the lass and helped her get over most of her trauma.

"I'm sorry, Thorin," Donnabelle said quietly, not wanting to be somewhere she wasn't welcomed. Thorin was lying on his back, his head pillowed by his hands. He grunted an acceptance of her apology and looked her over. She was biting her lower lip and was siting a small distance away from him. He indicated with his head and eyes to the empty spot next to him as invitation, yet he didn't speak.

Donnabelle took the invitation gingerly, stopping herself from truly invading the dwarf's space by just lying next to him. "Good night, Thorin."

Still, the dwarf didn't say a word; his mind was caught up in memories of the mountain and of when his family was whole. Eventually though, he remembered that she was there and he wrapped an arm around her.

He didn't see the looks exchanged between the older members of the company and the worried looks they sent toward the hobbit. They had all experienced his dark moods before (and knew they didn't really take long to burn out either), yet the hobbit in his arms had not. It had been a long time since Thorin had fallen into one of his darker moods and the company knew it was directed at the people closest to him. And they knew out of all of them, Donnabelle was the one he'd let in the most during the past five months. Their only wish was that their burglar didn't suffer from bearing the brunt of Thorin's anger and mood.

Planting a feather-light kiss on his wife's forehead, Thorin settled down into sleep.

THTHTHTH

The company was on foot, scouring the Western flanks of Erebor for any sign of an entrance into the mountain itself. Donnabelle wished that they had been given ponies, even though she preferred to keep her two feet firmly on the ground. It had been days since they had left Lake-town, and Thorin was fearing they were running out of time. The others, too, were worried they would not make it to the secret door by Durin's Day.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Donnabelle asked Balin. The two of them had spent more time together since leaving Lake-town and for good reason: the hobbit had found it difficult to deal with Thorin's black mood that had hit just as they'd left the shores of the lake. Balin had pulled her aside the second morning they'd been on shore and explained that Thorin had times when the people closest to him knew not to exasperate the man in case he turned around and jumped down their throats. She'd been very understanding of that, seeing as something similar had occurred with Frérin and she'd seen him take out his dark moods on her. It hadn't been often; yet when it had happened, she'd been more than a little frightened.

"A way in," Balin quietly answered, bringing Donnabelle back to the present.

The hobbit wanted to roll her eyes, but she knew with the way things were between her and Thorin, any further strain on the company would not be welcomed. "Yes," she said, keeping her voice level, "but I'm not exactly sure what dwarven doors look like."

The pair of them looked up as Thorin brushed passed them, sending his wife a condescending look. A stab of something – hurt she thought, but maybe fear – made its way through her.

"If the map is correct, then the hidden door lies somewhere directly above us!" Thorin called out.

The hobbit frowned at her husband. There was something… she didn't know how to put it… off about him ever since they'd reached the foothills of Erebor. Something more than a black mood. She blinked and shook her head. Whatever it was, she couldn't let it distract her from her duty to the company. Licking her lips, she looked up and caught Balin's eye again. The other dwarf also had a worried look on his face, and it wasn't directed at her. So it wasn't just her then. If Balin was worried, then Thorin was acting more out of character than usual.

She stopped and really looked at the mountainside. Was that... Thrór? The hobbit gasped as she could faintly make out the staircase carved into the statue of Frérin's grandfather. "Up here!" she called out with a grin. Thorin came rushing up to her side and grinned slightly.

"You've got keen eyes, agyâde," he said and planted a quick kiss on the side of Donnabelle's head. The hobbit allowed herself to lean slightly toward him, but the dwarf was gone again, rushing toward the hidden staircase. Donnabelle looked after him, feeling lost and confused: the endearment that she'd treasured before they reached Lake-town now felt hollow.

The other dwarves followed after Thorin, leaving Donnabelle to trail behind them.

"Are you alright, lass?" Balin asked; his eyes filled with sadness.

"I don't understand," she returned. "It's like he's so focused on just getting inside the mountain that he doesn't see. Is… is it…?" The hobbit dared not finish her question, knowing that Balin would pick up on what she wanted to say without ever voicing it. Frérin had told her about Thrór, just before the dwarves had escaped from the mountain. How his grandfather had gone mad with gold -sickness and greed before Smaug came. Her lower lip trembled as she turned to face the dwarf with her.

Balin didn't, or couldn't, answer. "We shouldn't fall behind, Donnabelle."

She nodded, and couldn't help think that she'd been so wrong on the Carrock: the worst was not behind them. She feared the worst was only yet to come.

AN:

"agyâde" translates as "my happiness."