Notes: I've never really written action before so I decided that this was the time to stop avoiding it and tackle it head on. I apologise in advance because I know the action part is not good at all but I'll try to work on it. If any of you have any advice on how to improve on any of my writing I would really appreciate it, my writing style can be really tedious so I'm trying to move away from that.

Sorry for the spelling also, I type my stories up on word and I'm English so things tend to auto-correct to the American spelling so if there's inconsistency in my spelling that's probably why. Thanks again for reading and the reviews I really appreciate it :)

Thorin did not wait for the girl to compose herself and he followed the path he had watched his companions take along the hedge. It was taller than him, probably taller than Gandalf too, so what hid behind was a mystery, although not one he was interested in solving. Soon enough, just as those before him, he came to Beorn's wooden gate. The Dwarf King had swung it open and was just about to step through when a cold sharpness stung the back of his neck. "To your knees, King". He slowly knelt to the ground, buying himself some time to think. Too much time. "MOVE!" A force sent him crashing to his knees shooting daggers through up his legs and to his spine, his eyebrows pinched. He stayed there for a few minutes before anything changed, and then the sharpness began to trace around his neck leaving nothing but a raised, red line as proof, as his capturer circled him.

Eryne dragged the blade around his neck, but only as she came to stand in front of him, where his hair was not, could she see the line she'd left. She admired it for a few moments, watched as tiny drops of blood skirted their way down his neck and onto his clothes. She moved the blade.

The metal raised, pushed his chin up, forcing him to see her. He watched as the slight grin on her face grew into a smug smile, she wanted power, she enjoyed it. The corner of his mouth twitched in reply; contempt. Now she could analyze him properly, and he couldn't stop her, he was helpless to her scrutiny. He redirected his view to behind her as he imagined her eyes piercing their way deeper and deeper into him, searching for the slightest of something she did not know. He'd hidden his contempt well, yet not well enough. This young woman, of whom he knew little more than nothing of, was under his skin, and neither of them knew why.

His female companion did not move as her eyes wandered over him and the blade in her hand did not shake nor falter. She was strong, determined... and in control. Cautiously enough for Eryne not to see, his hand began to edge to his blade. His hands, as hers, did not falter.

"Tell me, Thorin" Her voice was hushed, patronizing. "Why is it I disgust you? Other than my ignorance towards the importance of this quest and my lack of purpose here, the way you look at me, at first I thought it was dislike, then I considered hate, but no. You look at me with disgust. Why is that, King? Why do I disgust you? I've understood what you thought of me all along, but you didn't have to know that, did you? Not until I was ready to ask why. Why?".

Thorin had picked up his eyes once she started speaking but he soon dropped them again. She had fooled him. She was never searching for answers, she already had them. The woman had convinced him that he knew something she did not. She gave him false security, false power. She did disgust him. His hand drew nearer to the blade. She continued to ask him, urging him to answer as her anger engulfed her. Eryne lost focus. He seized the moment.

Thorin lifted the elven blade from its holster and swung for her waist, one swift movement. Metal met metal, the clash sharp and crisp bouncing off the trees around them. Eryne fell to the floor as Thorin sprang from it. He lunged for her. She rolled. It was to no avail. Metal pierced flesh and her shoulder drowned in pain and blood. Chocking on her own cries Eryne raised her blade to block another blow. Her sword arm was unharmed so she was slow, but quick enough. Each time he swung he was met with blade, the blocks becoming weaker and weaker as she fought with him and the searing pain. His eyes were raging. Hers were burning.

Dark Liquid pooled beneath her, dyeing the deep brown soil to a sickly red. Her vision was darkening while his was flashing. He struck again and Eryne swung her legs, swiping his from under him. He crashed to the ground. She sprang towards him with a last burst of energy. She did not reach him before strong hands flung her back. The girl slammed into the oak she'd sat at. Once again her body met bark. She breathed for a moment and let her vision fade.

Thorin heard them storming down the path behind the hedge, but he didn't let that stop him from fighting. She would pay. He watched Gandalf as he grasped Eryne by the shoulders just as she lunged. He watched her body slam into the tree and saw her drop unconscious to the bottom of it. He lay and watched as Balin took his blade before collecting hers from the ground, and noticed Kili scooping the girl into his arms and run towards the skin-changer's lodge. He watched as Bilbo ran alongside trying desperately to be of help. He lay and watched. Thorin came to his senses as he was shoved through the gate. They didn't blame him. They didn't think she was the victim, but they weren't happy. No, they were not.

He marched himself into the house of Beorn and did not take the time to introduce himself to the skin-changer. His anger was still boiling over and he needed to rest, or walk, or run, or anything, he just needed to be alone. As soon as he entered he could see that was going to be easier than expected. Most of the company had all scattered into a corner together, resting on some hay Beorn had arranged, while Kili, Balin, Gandalf and Bilbo all surrounded Eryne, nursing her wound. It was deep, he'd known that from the moment he struck, but he didn't realize how deep. Bilbo's usual glow had drained from his face as he watched the blood drain from his dear friend and seep into the hay bed she lay on, despite the wizards attempts to seal the wound. Like the dirt, it too was dyed. For a moment the King's anger faltered and his heart felt a pang of guilt. He had not only wounded a companion, someone who had sworn their life to his quest, but he had wounded a woman, a girl, and he had done it intentionally. He forced himself to ignore his thoughts and pushed the shame to the back of his mind. Thorin turned to the food the skin-changer had laid out for his suddenly not-so welcome guests, mistaking the pain in his stomach for hunger.