Chapter 13

~A Mask of Iron~

She gripped the fabric on Elrohir's forearm, deep in thought. The conversation she had heard was lodged in her mind, fangs sunken into the flesh that dripped with poison. The leader's voice – Thorin was his name – had sounded so vehement, wrath twisting his voice in a way she had never witnessed. His Grandfather's legacy…. The throne of Erebor, locked away in the distant east, and her dream. They seemed to correlate, be too real and easily handed over for her liking. That vision had plagued her days and nights until she had lost count. And now to be granted the chance to find answers…. Coruwen could hardly fathom the thought; it made her physically furrow her brow.

"Thinking of ways to convince El to give you your necklace back?" Elrohir interrupted her thoughts without a sideways glance. She cast a glance up at him before switching it to the walkway, paved with pallid lantern light and moonlight.

"No, cousin… No, that has not been on my mind. It is the matter of this Company, and their plight. I-I…" Her throat swelled up, choking out her words. She forced down the swelling, "I told you about my vision of Erebor, yes?"

Elrohir frowned, "No, I do not believe so."

"I dreamt one night while you were away that I was in the halls of the mountain city, marveling at everything from the ceiling to the handiwork done upon the pillars. But… But as I gazed up again, I saw naught but darkness that hissed and spat like an overzealous flame. When I attempted to flee it froze me in place and devoured me."

Coruwen was suddenly halted by Elrohir digging his heels into the stone to pull her back before him. Upon meeting his grey and green gaze, she saw mild fear within. Anxiety sank a knife between her shoulders as she clutched his callused hands.

"Do you know what it means?" Elrohir implored, squeezing her hands. But nothing came, logic told her to ask the Company why they ventured so far. "Coruwen… I cannot tell you to do something, for you and I do not share a mind, but a vision is the cryptic truth."

She fixed an uneasy glance on him, "Whatever do you mean?"

"A part of you… However small, wishes to follow them to know."

"What do you…?"

"Listen to me, I dreamt of the slaughter in Gundabad long before I ever ventured there. When I dreamt of it, I saw a red sea sweep me away to force me to awaken. You may not know what lies there, or what may happen between here and there. But as much as you wish to deny it, your heart will take you there."

Such words resounded in her chest like bells. A vision cannot be denied nor avoided. It was the inevitable… She forced down the bile laced nerves that climbed up into her throat, "Do you wish for me to go?"

Elrohir released a hand and lifted the other to his lips, "No, you are my cousin – my family. I would not wish for you to go on a whim, but I know visions are difficult to avoid."

A thought struck her, "They would not allow me near them, especially their leader; I can feel his hatred of our kindred. As it stands, Glorfindel and Elrond would not allow me to leave – I have little to no battle prowess…"

He pulled her along slowly, "That may be, but a healer that knows what she is doing bears no price."

"Elrohir, I…" She yanked her hand free of his, "I am no warrior, and I am a peace keeper at most. I could barely keep Glorfindel alive when he was poisoned. What makes you think I would be able to keep myself and others alive outside of these walls?"

"He was poisoned with something that was close to what the orcs of old used. I seem to remember you being able to heal many of the Rangers when they came back once."

Her heart remembered being thrown against a wall by the Second in Command, anger in his eyes. She hung her head, "You are not wrong, but it exhausted me…"

She wanted to object and say that Glorfindel and Elrond had aided her through it all, but Elrohir – taking after his father – would convince her that she had done the majority of it. In her heart, she knew she was not a warrior like she had been haphazardly trained to be, or a peace keeper for that matter. She was a lady, a quiet lady that let the world go on around her. How could she convince a company of dwarves to let her follow them? Simply say that she had a vision and that she was to follow them? No! That would never gain her any ground, they would look at her as if she had lost her mind in the rivers.

She knew from the conversation she overheard concerning the Company and then meeting Thorin that such a task would not be easy. There was tempered, grey steel within those blue eyes of his. Steel she could not warp. He may have looked upon her with a kind mask, but she knew there was a grimace there, etched permanently within him. He had dipped his head in respect, she recalled, while his eyes betrayed his seemingly good intent. A mask of porcelain guarded one of iron.

Elrohir started to walk while she followed in thought. If he was right, she would follow them eventually… Even if she did not wish to follow, by the right of foresight she would. Her hands went to her arms while unease made her ill. They walked along in silence until Elrohir came upon a stone balustrade. He began to pluck at the stone like a lute string before his twin came vaulting over the side, rubbing his knuckles.

"Elrohir!" Elladan scolded, glaring daggers at brother before shifting a bewildered gaze on her. "Oh… Oh no."

It took a mere moment for the illness to pass from her blood, replaced by frustration. It made her stride forward – quicker than her cousin could react – and pull on a braid and then an ear. He yelped as she pinched it like a mother would to a child.

"What did you do with it?" Coruwen demanded, pulling on his ear. He yelped again, never speaking. "Elladan, I will release you if you simply return my necklace. If do not… I will let you handle Faenaur for a month."

Trembling hands withdrew a chain and pendant from beneath grey robes, being offered to her. Her fingers released his ear and took the proffered object, slipping it over her head. The pendant was a welcomed weight around her neck while her other cousin rubbed his sore ear.

"Am I still cursed with watching over your demon horse?" Elladan grumbled.

Coruwen touched the pendant, shining like a miniature smile in the moonlight. She smiled coyly, "He hardly is a demon. I would simply say he is protective… And yes, you do."

~.~.~

Belgaer nudged her side as she combed his mane, all the while listening to Elladan fend off a flustered Faenaur. He yipped when the horse nipped at him or when the stallion stamped the ground. Belgaer was a sweet horse, akin to his master who was seated on a stool behind her, polishing his armor. She could hear Lindir frantically calling after the Company, though none of his words would be heeded. But it seemed as though the peace was short lived in the stables. It somewhat happened all at once. It started with Elladan's curse and then Faenaur's thundering hooves cracking the stone courtyard. Whirling, she stared out of the stable while Faenaur paraded around, snowy mane whipping in the wind like wisps of silk.

She picked up her skirts in one hand, hurrying after her stallion that ventured further and further away from her. Rising voices touched her ears, cursing at something.

"Oi! Bloody animal get outta here!" A voice shouted. Her heart sank, that voice belonged to a dwarf, no doubt. Gritting her teeth, she padded down a series of steps to another courtyard where Faenaur stood before a few of the dwarves, nibbling on their gear.

"Oh please don't eat that! That's not for eating!" A young one said, trying to swat away Faenaur's teeth from a book. She watched the young one from beside a wisteria bush. His movements seemed less fluid, and he had a hand pressed against his thigh. Faenaur caught the edge of a book, and pulled it free and began sniffing it loudly. "Please! Please stop!"

"Faenaur!" Coruwen called over the dwarf's frantic shouts drawing the gaze of the others. One, she recognized right away. The elderly dwarf that had helped her with finding Elrohir. His snowy beard was forked and he was dressed in a red and black surcoat while his kind, black eyes regarded with the same memory she must have had on her own. Faenaur trotted over to her, head low, "I am sorry, master dwarves. He is a terrible trouble maker."

"Ah, no harm done – right, Ori?" Another asked, his beard plaited very differently from anything she had seen. It was silver and white, braided into a silver clasp while the rest of his hair was pulled up into a bun. He knelt beside the young one, one that had ribbons in his mouse brown hair and knitted mittens on his hands that clutched a half eaten book.

"That was my medicine book for Oín! Oh bother," The little one cried – Ori that was what the other one had said.

"I remember you…" The snowy bearded dwarf recalled, waking toward her with a curious look in his eye. He shook his finger in thought, "The lads helped you… Lady Coruwen, yes?"

She dipped her head, and then dug her fingers into Faenaur's mane. She answered, "I am, Master Dwarf. Forgive me, but I do not believe you gave me your name the other day when you aided me."

The dwarf smiled at her kindly, and then bowed before her, "Balin, milady, son of Fundin. Your stallion here ate the book of our little Ori," Balin told her, gesturing the distraught dwarf, who cradled the book to his chest.

"Oh… I apologize, the one time I ever allow my cousin to watch over him he causes havoc," Coruwen turned a glare on Faenaur. "You know better than any horse not to eat books."

Balin cocked an eyebrow, "Cousin? As in the ones you were looking for?"

"Yes, the very same. Thanks to the efforts of the two you volunteered to follow me, I found one but the other was trickier. Nonetheless, I found him and restricted him to watching over Faenaur." Her stomach turned at the thought of allowing Elladan to watch her horse again.

She took a hesitant step toward the concerned young one, kneeling down to his level to inspect the book. The ones around her tensed. Yet, she felt no tension in the air itself, only within them. So, others can be different, Coruwen thought as her fingers grazed a torn page. The binding and dustcover were unmarred, but the pages themselves were yellowed with age, and mostly likely could have been torn by a single touch. Faenaur merely liked the taste of the pages apparently…

"May I ask what this book's contents were?" Coruwen enquired, shifting a friendly smile on Ori. The silver haired dwarf placed a hand on his comrade's shoulder protectively. Her gut arched in unease. "I am a healer here, if I understood you earlier, then this information could be replaced."

"We don't need the help of elves," One dwarf barked, his beard and hair wily and colored auburn. "We can get it ourselves."

Shutting her eyes, she released the dustcover in her hands and stood, dusting off her skirts. Now she understood… Thousands of years could not be changed by one person, whether elf or dwarf. Balin walked back to his group, and muttered something to them. It would be best to ignore them, simply walk back to the stables with Faenaur and not help them if they wished to be so adamant. But as she did so, she heard the clunk of a limping gait behind her. Did Ori not have a wound on his leg that was untreated? As dearly as she wished to turn and mention it to the others, it would fall on deaf ears – they wanted nothing to do with her kind, after all.

Faenaur traipsed after her, head trying to fit underneath her hand. Upon returning, Elrohir glanced up from his spot and stopped Belgaer from galloping out of the stables. Elladan had disappeared, but Elrohir rose without a word. His hand pressed against her shoulder as he passed, whistling for Belgaer.

A frown creased her mouth, "Where are you going?"

Her cousin halted, frozen, before turning a glance over his shoulder. "Rangers… The Old Ranger wants us to ride north to Fornost to check on the reconstruction," He informed, hand fixing his sleeve. "I will not be long, cousin."

Coruwen folded her hands together, accepting his words with ice for blood. She padded up to him and touched his hand. Her voice was a breath, "Be safe, Elrohir."

Her cousin was a shadow, one moment before her and the next gone. Her chest was heavy, heavy with the slight sting of the dwarf's words and then her cousin departing her. Albeit, she had Arwen still but she had become close to Elrohir. However, a part of her remembered the little dwarf with his injured leg. She had seen it before any other – or so it seemed – the way he guarded his leg when he knelt or when his fellow had pulled him up, he had hidden a wince. Why had she not mentioned it to them? Why had she stayed her tongue?

Coruwen put Faenaur back into his stall and made sure that he could not escape. She walked out of the stables with a thick mist of thought around her. She felt half a fool, remembering Elrohir's words and then her mouth withering at the chance to help someone. Mayhaps not half a fool, but entirely a fool.

~.~.~

"My brother's words are true, cousin," Arwen confirmed, popping an unneeded stitch in a cloak. Coruwen glanced over her shoulder at her cousin while her fingers flowed over yarrow leaves. She had let her conversation with Elrohir slip while she was binding herbs to dry.

"Not even Erestor could give me a distinct answer about what the vision. Yet I speak with your brother and he tells me that they are set in stone… I am beginning to think that no one knows truly how to manage foresight," Coruwen grumbled, tying the knot of twine around the leaves. She hesitated before speaking again, "Unless my aunt knew, but she lies across the mountains."

Arwen's skirts rustled, "Adar may know more than us, but if you wish to have Grandmother's input I can always send a hawk."

Coruwen hung the bunch of leaves on a hook in front of a window, "If you could, I would be grateful. As it stands, I still quarrel with the knowledge of my true family and…. Other things."

Upon turning around, she found Arwen gazing at her with slanted eyes. Unease made her stomach roil under her cousin's gaze. They both knew what she was speaking of… She had never told Arwen, but she still remembered the black wolf with eyes of blue-grey that had been oddly kind to her. Her visions haunted her when she thought of them, and some stuck while others drifted away like leaves on the water. A vision is the cryptic truth, Elrohir's words nagged.

But if a vision is the cryptic truth, then it is unavoidable, Coruwen thought sourly. Try as she could to avoid that thought and the dwarves, she was curious still. It wanted to be around the dwarves and their little hobbit; it wanted to see what the others of her kindred did not. She had read about – who would be her cousin – Celebrimbor and his dwarf friend Narvi. Granted, she did not have the odd fascination of crafting as he did, but nonetheless the curiosity must have been present. She had to know… She would see what Celebrimbor saw.

"Arwen? Coruwen?" A little voice squeaked from the doorway. Her eyes instantly found Estel, his hands clutching an old dustcover to his chest. "I…I was playing earlier and one of the dwarves came up to me and wanted me to find you."

Coruwen approached Estel and knelt down to his level, "What did they need, little one?"

He offered her the dustcover, "Faenaur ate his book and he was upset. Said you asked what was in it, and probably assumed you would be able to fix it."

Coruwen took the mangled book and touched the torn pages. "I may be able to do something with it, that or give it to Lord Erestor so he could replace the pages."

"Should I find him and tell him?" Estel's grey eyes were wide with intrigue as she flipped the remaining pages over, examining the words within. They were written in a symbolic language that she did not understand; the same language that had been written on the walls in Erebor. It made her heart quiver with an unplaced emotion… Fear, mayhaps?

"No, Estel, that is all right. I will return it to him when it is finished," She moved aside a lock of his dark hair from his eyes, forcing a light flush across his cheeks. "You are a kind boy to do this."

"Elladan said not to go near them, but they seem all right to me…"

"They are strange, mayhaps the strangeness in him cancels itself out with them nearby," Arwen murmured with a chuckle. Coruwen grinned at the remark, cradling the book to her chest. Rising, she laced it beside her work table and finished tying the herbs she had organized. "Did you only speak to the one..?"

She could hear Estel shake that messy hair of his, "No, Arwen, I spoke to another that seemed friendly. He had a big white beard, sort of reminded me of a snow beast… but tiny. And then I saw their leader. He told me he met you, sister."

Coruwen tensed, remembering the blue-grey eyes. She kept her tone light to stop Estel from prying, "Did you, now?"

"He seemed very upset about the young one giving me the book. He's very grumpy," And she nearly scoffed and laughed at the same time at his remark. "Anyway, Coruwen could you please fix the book? Please? The one that seemed to own it was very nice!"

"I shall do it, Estel. I must finish this…" Estel hugged her side, blinking up at her with grey, owlish eyes. Under the influence of such eyes, her heart melted and made her smile. "In a minute, I promise. We can see if Lord Erestor can do anything to fix this."

Estel let out a whoop and started fetching twine for her to finish the bundles with. He had begun following her and Arwen around when they practiced healing, to watch and learn what bits he could from their mentors. He would tell her that Elrond and Glorfindel taught differently. How she would never know… She tied a bundle of mint and kingsfoil before placing them in the same space as the yarrow. Estel bounded ahead of her after she finished, down the hall like a bunny down its hole.

And Coruwen padded after him through the mute halls that were decorated with angular bits of golden sun with splinters of shade in between. They walked into an open walkway that was covered in decaying autumn leaves and spindly oak seeds. It was Estel who found Erestor on a covered alcove, flipping through a series of books and maps. And such silence was ended short by the lad, who galloped up to the scholar and skidded to a halt.

"Whatever do you need, little one?" Erestor enquired without a second glance up. Coruwen rested a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder before he could speak. Quietly, she cleared her throat, and drew Erestor's hazel gaze, "Ah, Lady Coruwen – what is it you require of me?"

"You can write dwarfish, can you not?" Coruwen questioned with a sweet voice. The ellon cocked an eyebrow, listening mayhaps, "One of the dwarves of the Company gave Estel this."

Upon setting the book down, Erestor turned the dust cover open and stared blankly at the eaten contents. A frown creased his mouth, "What ate these pages? I have only seen such treachery with your horse…"

Coruwen let out a nervous laugh, "Elladan turned his back for a moment and Faenaur bolted, only to eat the poor lad's book. I take it none of it can be saved?"

Erestor shook his head, "No, and I cannot write it either. Few elves can write it, and even fewer can speak it. The only ellon I have ever seen that could remotely attempt to speak it was Celebrimbor, but he is no longer with us. It hurts to say this, but I cannot fix this in the way the dwarf more than likely wishes it to be."

"I see… Well, my thanks, Lord Erestor," Coruwen turned on her heel and began to slowly walk back to the healing houses when Estel came running back up to her, clutching her dress's sleeve. "What is it, Estel?"

"We should return it to the dwarf. It is his, after all." She nodded, thinking it to be best for it to be returned. They walked together, her pace nearly too much for Estel to keep up with despite holding onto her wrist. She inwardly smiled at him, the sweet wisp of a boy that trailed after her some days like a puppy. "What do you think of the dwarves, sister?"

Coruwen paused for a moment before saying anything. It took her a moment to ponder it all, the thought of the company. They were more a curiosity than anything, something that she wanted to know about since she first read of their kind in the old tomes in Erestor's library. Yet, the books only told her so much… It spoke of the animosity between them, and their crafting, the great kingdoms they hewed in Moria or the great caves of Nargothrond. But she always wanted to see past the shroud of silence that hovered around. Her cousin knew of it more than anyone after all… And mayhaps other people within her family did as well.

Her words came like a flood of water in a drought, "They are curious to me, something I wish to know about."

"Why are you curious? I mean, most of your kind doesn't like them," Estel pointed out with a tiny pout of thought. "Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Well, I'm curious about them and so are you, so maybe we are distantly related after all!" He gave her a beaming grin and she laughed, ruffling his hair.

"A touch farfetched, Estel."

Upon arriving in the area that Estel had guided her to, they found nothing. There was nothing, no sound or smoke or fire in the little corner of Imladris. Her heart leapt to her throat, unsettling bile rising in her throat. They had previously been here, but now – it seemed – they were gone. Ori was hurt, she remembered, and she had his book. Lowering her gaze to her fingers, she knitted them in thought.

"They were here earlier," Estel said, padding around the area in search.

I could simply follow them… Give Ori his book and return here, no one would ever know aside from myself or Estel, Coruwen pondered, inwardly pacing. He would not make it far with that leg of his…. Yet, she could remain in Imladris and forget them. It would be easy, in theory.

Before she had more time to think, her heart forced words into her mouth, "I will follow them and return this."

Estel tensed, "W-What? You can't! Lord Glorfindel and Adar will not let you!" He argued as she started in the direction of her room. She knew why – limited skill and prowess made her a sitting target. But it was not as though the dwarves had ventured far. She could hear Estel's little boots click against the floor in a hurry after her. "Sister please! Adar says that shadows are coming, that is why he told the Old Ranger to send the twins to Fornost. It could be dangerous."

She hardly heard him, the resolution of her thoughts louder than a thunderstorm in her ears. She would find them, she was sure of it. And yet in the back of her mind, she heard Elrohir's words, softer than a mother's song.

You may not know what lies there, or what may happen between here and there. But as much as you wish to deny it, your heart will take you there.

~.~.~

"Master Baggins, if you do not wish to be left behind I suggest you keep up," Thorin's voice made him blink one last time at the fading sight of Rivendell. He kept pace with Ori and Bofur – was the latter limping? Part of him realized Ori was limping while the other watched with fascination. Why had he not said anything? He inched his way toward Ori on light feet.

"Ori!" Bilbo hissed, drawing the dark brown gaze of Ori. There was pain in his eyes that made Bilbo's heart constrict with concern. "Are you hurt?"

Ori's gaze dropped instantly, where out of realization or shame – Bilbo did not know. The lad kept walking despite it but whispered, "I don't want to bother Dori or the others – I'm fine, Bilbo." He gave the boy courage, that much was certain. Ori cleared his throat softly, "Though, I wish I hadn't given my book to that boy to take to the lady… I miss it."

Bilbo patted his shoulder, "We'll find you another one, or... You know, it might magically drop from the sky! Stranger things have been happening."

He agreed with himself on that, as the days passed weirder things happened. And it all started with Gandalf… The hobbit inwardly frowned and dug his walking stick into the slick rock to help himself find balance. He wanted to stay in Rivendell, to stay with the elves while Thorin continued on this quest of lunacy but something within him made him stay. He wanted to follow them and see what lied behold the mountains and forests now. Maybe, one day, he would stay with the elves before his life ended… He was certain of that.

The Company climbed and climbed away from Rivendell; until they reached a crag of shrub grass colored sunset gold and he saw Thorin lift a hand to stop the group. He paused, sighed in relief, and then pressed against his lower back to stretch. Vertebrae crackled like snapping twigs, resounding up his spine but then a sound touched his ears… Something that he did not expect to hear… It sounded like rocks tumbling down a cliff. But they were too fast… Kili darted away from the group with Fili in tow, standing high up on small outcroppings to see over everyone.

"What do you see, Kili?' Thorin enquired, his voice loud enough for Bilbo to hear quite clearly from his spot.

"A horse?" Came the answer. Bilbo nearly hiccupped – why did that sound like a question? And It was not the good type of question either.

"it's just a wild horse, they exist up in these hills," Dwalin answered with a conviction that was harder than iron.

And it was Fili that piped up next, "Kili's not wrong, Dwalin. The horse is saddled, its rider – or riders – are missing." The horse came galloping into the group and slowed down as it approached, its mane formed of white fire and fur of spun gold. It tossed its elegant head in anxiety when Fili approached it; hand extended it a gesture of good faith. "Hey, easy now. I won't hurt- ow! It bit me!"

The blonde dwarf clutched his hand to his chest, rubbing the faint mark that bloomed there. Funny – Bilbo remembered seeing that horse somewhere… Ori approached next, but Dori pushed him out of the way and the horse bit Dori, who yelped like a kicked dog and scurried away.

"I remember you," Ori said in thought, extending his hand out next for the horse. "You ate my book. Why are you up here?"

"Faenaur!" Now there was a voice Bilbo would recall! He knew the melodic tones of an elf without a second thought.

A willowy figure came clambering over the side of a rock dressed in a thick storm grey cloak and long surcoat in a slightly lighter shade. It only took a moment for Bilbo's ears to ring with the song of Orcrist being unleashed from its scabbard along with the groan of Kili's bowstring. Weapons had been drawn and the horse was kicking up his feet and screaming. Ori was thrown back when the golden horse rose up on its back feet and kicked the air.

"Faenaur hush! It will be all right," The elf soothed, trying to approach the nervous horse. "Please, I can make him stop if you allow me-"

"Who are you?" Thorin demanded, stalking closer to the elf. "Remove your hood."

"That is of little importance, my lord. Right now, if I could merely convince my horse to not stomp your little friend, then we can continue this," The voice was female and familiar to him. It was soft and sweet, despite the circumstances. Where had he heard that voice? He had met few female elves while in Rivendell… There was Coruwen, Arwen, and Nixiel – three elf maids. And the female elf lifted her voice above the horse's screams, speaking in a tongue that made his world waver for a moment with drowsiness. Words that he hardly knew washed over him while the horse began to calm down. Its muscles relaxed first and then it hung its head down to Ori's level, touching the lad's boot.

But none of the dwarves had lowered their weapons while she had spoken. It was not until the horse was settled with reins in its master's hands that Thorin spoke again.

"Remove your hood," He ordered, voice bouncing off of the canyon walls. The elf complied with his order and removed her hood, golden waves spilling over dark grey like a waterfall. His heart leapt into his throat – it was her, his guess had not been wrong! He blinked like an owl at her, surprised that she showed little emotion before Thorin and the curved edge of Orcrist that could snap her in half with a single twitch. "Who are you?"

"My name is Coruwen, my lord, cousin to Lord Elrond of Imladris," Coruwen answered and he saw Thorin's eyes slant for a mere moment. Nonetheless, his mask never faltered. It was made of pure iron, something that could not simply be removed. "I have merely come to return something."

"What do you have?" Coruwen remained stony faced despite Thorin's attempt to poke at her. She reached back into her horse's saddlebags and withdrew a brown dust cover with rumpled pages sticking out like reverse cowlicks. Thorin took the book she offered him and instantly called out for Ori. The lad got up slowly, limping quite heavily now. The lad retrieved the book, only Dwalin stopped him when he tried to return to Dori.

"Your friend is hurt, and in a great deal of pain from the looks of things. If I may," But she could barely offer anything before Orcrist shifted to the hollow of her covered throat. She jolted backwards, hands raised in defense. "Please, my lord, I am a healer. He cannot go on walking with that injury."

"Ori, why didn't you say anything!" Nori and Dori chastised in unison – they only time they ever chastised Ori together.

"Oín could heal it. But you -," Orcrist fell from her throat, "- are you to leave us."

"Thorin, wait a moment," Balin interrupted, forcing everyone to be silent. "Elves are renowned healers. If she could help Ori in a way that Oín could not, she could be invaluable to us."

"I will not have one of Thranduil's people in my midst," Thorin ground out, settling Orcrist into the dirt. Bilbo watched Coruwen grab something from her bag and grip in it her hands. Her shoulders grew tense, "Do you not remember what they did-?"

"I am not related to the Elvenking, my lord. My people came from Valinor, the Sindar did not," Coruwen corrected in a light tone. Thorin glared over his shoulder at her, and then walked away with Balin trailing after. Bilbo watched her from a distance, toying with her horse's mane. It took what felt like a millennium to – hopefully - everyone, Thorin returned to Coruwen with Balin and lifted Orcrist to her solar plexus.

"You shall come with us, but should you take one step out of line this blade will bite you," And his tone quieter than a gale but deadlier than a reaper. Bilbo noticed it again, the mask of iron and steel that Bilbo always knew to be prevalent in Thorin.

A/N: Not dead again, just playing... I don't know what gets into me with this, I literally have sat with Word open for thirty minutes hoping to God that something will slap me. I think the slap was the new teaser trailer for the final movie... Yeah, that seems right. Anyhoo, I apologize if it seemed forced or anything, I tried to deviate away from normal things - though knowing this archive there are tons of different ways - but I could have failed miserably. And if any of the dwarves seem out of character or anything of that sort, I'm sorry. With Thorin, I took into account his deeply rooted hatred of the elves and kinda pulled a: What would Thorin do? thought process. It may have missed the mark... But thank God for Balin, I love him. Anyone that looked back at my Middle Earth Challenge on Tumblr knows that he is one of my favorite dwarves. Wow, long note again - I need to stop.

Anyway, if you liked this please leave a follow, favorite, or review! All of it helps me move my procrastinating butt along.

If you want to join my Tumblr family, look me up under this Penname! We'd be glad to invite you into the fold!

And as always, Until next time, lovelies!

-Angel