Fili woke with a start. Adrenaline surged through his veins and his heartrate sped up even as his brain tried to figure out what it was that had awakened him.

He kept his body still and eyes closed. His hands, under his pillow, tightened on the hilts of his two favorite daggers. They were sheathed so he wouldn't embarrass the line of Durin by accidentally stabbing himself in his sleep but the sheaths were attached to his bed so he could draw the blades with ease.

"I'd say not bad," a voice said mildly, "if it weren't for the fact it took you a full thirty seconds to react to someone being in your room."

"He hasn't bothered to raise a single alarm," another, gruff voice, said. "Clearly he's in need of more training."

"Oh, clearly," the first voice agreed cheerfully. "You know his ride partner probably would have gutted us both by now."

"She would have at least tried."

Fili groaned and buried his face in his pillow. His heartrate slowed and the adrenaline bled off, leaving him simply annoyed rather than ready for battle. Distantly he felt a vague question from his brother, still asleep but subconsciously reacting to his initial distress. Fili sent back a feeling of peace and waited until he felt Kili settle again. Then, with a sigh, he released his daggers and pushed up on one elbow, wincing as his eyes adjusted to the light from his fireplace.

Nori was lounging in a chair a few feet from his bed. Dwalin stood just behind the Spymaster's right shoulder, arms crossed across his chest and a scowl fixed to his face.

Fili tried to copy his uncle's look of disapproval. "Want to tell me why you're watching me sleep?"

"Not for the entertainment value, that's for sure," Nori said dryly, "I heard you wanted to speak to me." He spread his arms out theatrically. "Here I am, my Prince."

Fili resisted the urge to throw a dagger at him.

Nori would only catch it and thank him for the gift and Fili would be out a dagger.

A dagger he happened to like.

He sat up entirely, shoving the blankets off and grimacing as cooler air cut through his shirt and trousers.

His mother would prefer he wear full armor to bed or, at the very least, chain mail but while he would like to avoid assassination as much as the next royal there were limits to how far he was willing to go.

He'd left word he wanted to speak to Nori over a week ago. The Spymaster was rarely available. Nori wasn't content to sit back and wait for news, choosing instead to get out himself and run down rumors and leads, ever trying to stop attacks against the royal family before they happened.

Fili, in turn, had found his own time increasingly taken up by preparations for his Coming of Age ceremony. Kili had mocked him over it until Fili had pointed out there were only a few years left until it was his little brother's turn.

Kili had responded by pouting to Lyth, the only one who would put up with it. Kili had a pout that rivaled Syrath's.

His mood soured further. That was another sore point. With his time so taken by his duties he'd had almost no time at all to spend with Syrath or Bilba. He knew the two spent a lot of time together, often outside the mountain. He'd worried about them until he'd heard Xalanth was practically glued to their side, desperately trying to forge a bond with his long lost son.

It annoyed Fili that he wasn't with them but, until the ceremony was over, he barely had time to think let alone bond with his dragon or fellow rider.

He suppressed a yawn and let Nori know his suspicions about Nar.

Nori, proving why he was the Spymaster and Fili the prince, immediately picked up on a portion of the conversation Fili hadn't.

"So," he said slowly, "Nar claims he was in contact with his daughter via raven?" He leaned his head back to look at Dwalin. "That's odd seeing as how I was only just able to make contact myself." He turned his attention back to Fili. "I initially lost three ravens trying to keep in contact with the caravan."

Fili blinked in surprise. "Three? Why didn't you send a dragon?"

"That would be a little obvious," Nori replied. "Everyone knows how dangerous the route over the mountains is. Best to let the other side simply think we believed them lost naturally."

"How do you know they weren't lost naturally?" Fili asked.

"It's my job to always go with the more paranoid option," Nori said matter of factly. "After the first three were lost I sent three more, simultaneously, by different routes. Two made it. The only one who didn't was the one who took the same route as the missing birds."

Fili winced at the news of even more lost birds but Nori shrugged. "They volunteered and I made sure they understood the risks before I sent them out."

"So the main route is being watched," Dwalin said, cutting in for the first time.

"That and Nar has a method of communication that I don't," Nori said, sitting forward and clasping his hands, "and it's certainly not by raven. They aren't like humans."

Fili nodded. Ravens weren't like humans or dwarves or any other race. They didn't betray those they were loyal too. The ravens of Erebor were loyal to the line of Durin, period. He frowned. "How do you know he wasn't just lying about being in contact with Beryl?"

Nori grinned. "Now you're starting to think like a Spymaster. The answer is I don't, of course, at least not yet." He leaned back in the chair again. "Though, if it is true, I imagine Nar would be horrified if he realized he'd given it away."

"What about the rest?" Fili asked. "Are they going to Gondor after they leave Rivendell?"

"Oh, that part was definitely a lie," Nori said. "Dori reports Beryl claims to have suddenly taken ill but is refusing all treatment from the elves. Rather convenient that, it'll require them to stay much longer than first planned."

"What do you think they're up to?" Fili shifted forward, clasping his hands in his lap.

Nori shrugged. "Who knows? Several of Nar's people are out at the moment. Beryl is at Rivendell, another of his agents is in Rohan and a third appears to be in Mirkwood though there's no word he's been seen in the palace and the elves haven't seen him in the woods."

"It doesn't matter what they're up to," Dwalin muttered. "Whatever it is we'll stop it."

Nori rolled his eyes. "If you had your way you'd throw him in prison, which would immediately result in us losing the chance to find out the names of everyone loyal to him. It might be nice to know if there are other nobles in on this whatever-it-is or if it's just him."

Dwalin scowled. "It'd be safer than allowing him free access to the mountain. As far as we know he's the one behind the assassination attempts."

"It's possible," Nori agreed. "We've long believed the attacks were tied to Moria, given how soon after it they started. Nar certainly has the means and opportunity and he has motive."

Fili nodded absently. There were many who held his great-grandfather and grandfather directly responsible for the losses in Moria. Since they were dead, however, some had redirected their ire toward the bloodline instead.

Nar had lost both his sons at Moria. One of them had been a rider, the first in Nar's line. "A lot of people lost loved ones at Moria," he said, "many of them nobles."

"Precisely," Nori said, shooting a triumphant look at Dwalin. "Which is why we can't just grab a noble and throw him in the dungeon with no evidence. As far as we know Nar really is simply trying to secure an advantageous match for Beryl. There are unmatched princes in both Rohan and Mirkwood after all and Elrond's sons possess power in their own right."

"And Nar mentioned Gondor and Prince Aragorn," Fili said with a frustrated sigh. "Though I doubt anyone could tear him away from Lady Arwen."

"Agreed," Nori snapped his fingers suddenly. "Speaking of which. I've reports that Gondor has been searching rather committedly for your dragon and ride partner."

"Really?" Fili slid forward and stood up, his feet sinking into the plush rug that surrounded his bed. "Why would Aragorn want her?"

"Apparently she's one of his Rangers, though marginally." Nori replied. "They've offered a rather large reward for information regarding her and Syrath's whereabouts."

Fili considered it. Erebor had never had a problem with Gondor and, though they'd only met a few times, he'd always felt Aragorn was an honorable man. "I'll have my uncle send word that she's here," he said. His Coming of Age celebration was in a week. Aragorn had already indicated he would be coming. He'd be able to see Syrath and Bilba for himself then.

A thought occurred to him. "Most of the royalty of Middle Earth has been invited to Erebor for my Coming of Age. If Nar is really after a match for Beryl why would he send her away now? She'll miss the celebration."

"She will indeed," Nori said, "which lends credence to the notion that she's gone on a different mission entirely." He raised a finger, as though punctuating a point. "Until you take into account that Elrond has already sent word his sons will not be attending, and Nar will be here."

"So they may just be covering multiple areas," Fili said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Beryl in Rivendell with the twins and Nar is here with the rest of Middle Earth's royalty." He shook his head and grinned. "I am glad I'm not you." His eyes went to Dwalin. "Either of you. I'll take a straight forward assassination attempt any day over all this subterfuge."

Nori stood up. "It's a dance. Once you learn it it's not so bad." He nodded at Dwalin. "And he just solves the problem by killing it."

Dwalin was unapologetic. "Can't be a threat if it's dead."

Nori stepped toward the door, only to pause and turn halfway back. "On an unrelated note, Your Highness. I must say I'm rather surprised you haven't been spending more time with your dragon and young Orcrist. I would have thought you three would be nearly inseparable."

Fili glowered. "I haven't had time. If it's not a council meeting it's working on my speech or being fitted for the ceremonial clothing or a thousand other things."

"True enough," Nori said. "But that shouldn't stop you." He grinned. "Tell me, Your Highness. How much sleep would you say you needed?"

Bilba sat on the ledge over the top of Erebor's gates and watched as the merchants came in to set up their wares. The sky was just beginning to lighten on the far horizon, the sun promising to come up in its own time.

She was seated between two short columns of rock. The columns repeated at intervals the entire length of the wall. She had a vague understanding as to why it was designed that way but, for the moment, only cared that it provided a good backrest. Her legs dangled over the sides, one inside Erebor and a few feet above the walkway running over the gate, the other over a sheer drop leading to the ground outside the mountain.

Guards strode past her in staggered rotations. They paid her little mind, already used to her showing up each morning to watch the merchants straggle in.

Movement drew her attention and she looked up in surprise as Fili slung a leg over the edge and took a seat across from her, leaning against the opposite column. Behind him, Bilba saw the guards that always followed him about. One made a strangled choking noise at Fili's choice of position but didn't protest it.

Bilba frowned at him. She hadn't seen him much in the past week, mainly just at meals which she continued to take with the family, in spite of the fact it forced her to spend time in the presence of the Chief Bastard.

Why are you here?

"I didn't realize you were up so early," he said. "I thought I'd come see how you were doing."

She shrugged. I'm fine.

He nodded. "I hear you and Syrath have been heading out into Mirkwood a lot."

They had a problem with giant spiders. Bilba replied. Now they don't.

"Well, that should help improve relations," Fili said dryly. "I've been told Prince Aragorn of Gondor has been inquiring about you. He's worried. I had Nori send word that you and Syrath are fine."

Bilba frowned in surprise. Why was he concerned?

"If I had to guess," Fili said, "he may have received word of your and Syrath's altercation with the orcs. You haven't really been seen since then. I would be worried if our positions were reversed."

I can visit. Bilba said. And let him know I didn't get myself or Syrath caught.

"He'll be here within the week for my Coming of Age," Fili said. "There's no reason to go out of your way."

Bilba turned to look over the wall again. She knew about his Coming of Age. He'd be expected to form a soul bond with Syrath.

She honestly didn't know how she felt about that, the two of them being bonded, leaving her on the outside.

The easiest solution to not being left out of course would be to bond with them both herself.

The mere thought, however, brought nausea and a deep seated terror.

She was trying to trust. She was. There was still a part of her though, a very large part, that held back and would undoubtedly continue to do so.

Yes they seemed to accept her now. Yes they were willing to get to know her and let her stay.

But that was only because they didn't really know her, a small voice whispered at the back of her mind. They didn't know what she'd done in the Arena. They didn't know the sheer volume of hate and anger that raged through her veins, at times so strong it left her gasping for breath.

They didn't know about…

She wrenched her mind away from that train of thought, old guilt welling up in her mind. She swallowed and let out a deep breath.

"Are you alright?" Fili asked in concern.

I'm fine. Bilba lied before he could press. She really, really didn't want to discuss his Coming of Age whatever-it-was or soul bonds or anything of the sort.

I want to start going out again, after orcs. She saw his eyes widen and sighed in exasperation. I'm Orcrist, Orc Cleaver. It's what I do. She could feel the tension in her body as she spoke. The spiders in Mirkwood had only taken a day or two. Since then she'd spent her time in the library or with Syrath. Her nerves had started up immediately, her skin crawling, her very bones vibrating with energy.

She'd started running, inside and outside the mountain. She'd run herself into the ground and then run some more, trying to calm the maelstrom that forever swirled within her.

It had helped, a little, but not enough.

She fought.

She'd always fought, even before she'd been handed weapons in the Arena. She'd fought to protect her mother, fought to find food, fought to stay alive. Now all she did was read or walk around. Every moment that she did all she could picture were caravans under attack, people dying because she wasn't there to save them.

She was being useless.

They didn't need her in Erebor. She would stay because that was where Fili was and Syrath deserved to have both his riders.

But they didn't need her. They had guards and soldiers. They could fight and protect themselves. Orcs didn't come as close and if they did the guards of Erebor or Dale dealt with them before she even knew about it.

It was the same problem she'd had in the Shire. The hobbits there had been peaceful. They didn't understand her desire to fight, not for the sake of fighting but from a need to be involved in pushing back the darkness.

Here the dwarves were warriors. They understood the need to fight but they didn't understand the want to fight. They only wanted to fight evil if it was right in front of them. They didn't go looking for it. They didn't want to stop it before it ever started.

They didn't blame themselves for every single life lost.

I need to fight. She said. I don't want to leave Erebor, she added hastily as she caught the worried look in his eyes. She'd told him she would stay, so she would. She wouldn't hold the threat of possibly leaving over his head like some kind of hammer. She wasn't cruel.

Still, she spoke again, hesitant. All I've ever known is fighting. I don't know how to just sit.

She was half afraid she'd seen disgust or concern in his eyes.

Instead she saw only understanding.

She had a feeling Primula and the Crown Prince of Erebor would find they had more in common than they might think.

"Maybe I can help you with that," Fili said. He slid off the ledge, onto the walkway. "Come on."

Bilba trailed behind Fili as he led her through the winding tunnels and passageways of the mountain.

The day had risen enough that people were beginning to get up and the halls held a number of people going about their morning routines.

Bilba! Syrath's voice suddenly sounded in her head. Do you need me for anything? Anything at all?

Not right now, Bilba replied. Maybe in a little bit.

Okay, Syrath responded, sounding resigned. I'll just…go fishing with my father I guess…again. He really likes to fish.

Bilba bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Fili caught it and raised an eyebrow in question. She explained and he laughed.

"I don't think it's he likes to fish so much," he said. "I think he's just trying to find something for them to do together. He wants a relationship with Syrath but hasn't quite figured out how to relate to him yet."

He could go orc hunting with him. Bilba said.

Fili snorted. "I think he'd prefer something slightly less dangerous."

Bilba frowned. Syrath wants to hunt orcs. If Xalanth wants a relationship with him shouldn't he do the things Syrath likes?

"Xalanth was incredibly close to Quenth," Fili explained, "and blames himself for not being able to save her."

Bilba nodded, her perspective on the older dragon shifting. She could understand that feeling, more than he knew.

"Syrath is not only his son," Fili went on, "but a small piece of Quenth returned to him. He doesn't want to let her down, again." He gave her a light grin. "Aside from that, he's a parent. You know how they are, overprotective."

Bilba felt a pang of sadness dart through her. My mother was always overprotective.

Fili flinched, catching the past tense. "What about your father?"

He was a coward, Bilba said shortly. I doubt he could be protective at all, much less overprotective.

Some of her anger must have leaked out over the mental link because Fili didn't ask any further questions.

In the distance Bilba began to hear a familiar sound, metal clashing against metal. Her heart sped up and she walked a little faster. Fili grinned and matched her easily.

They turned a corner and moved through a low doorway cut into the rock. Beyond it was a large, flat area filled with dirt. Racks lined the side, filled with weaponry.

In the center of the area a number of dwarves of various experience levels moved through drills while, in another corner, more groups sparred.

Bilba clenched her hands into fists and felt her stomach start to churn.

The area reminded her, just a little, of the Arena.

"Are you okay?" Fili asked, his voice anxious. "We can leave. The Vanguard meet here but we can wait until they're somewhere else."

Bilba looked out over the floor and caught sight of the Chief Bastard, taking a group of dwarves through their paces.

Anger surged through her at the sight of him holding an axe in one hand and acting like he knew what he was doing. He probably just had it for show, trying to convince others he wouldn't run at the first sign of battle.

He might run, but she would not.

Keeping an eye on him she let the anger flow through her, chasing away the anxiety and fear.

I'm fine, she growled at Fili. Let's go.

He still looked uncertain but he turned and led her to a set of stairs that went down to the floor.

One of the dwarves broke away from out of a larger group, comprised of dwarves her age, and came toward them. Bilba recognized Fili's younger brother, Kili.

"Hey," he said, "finally decided to join training again?"

"It's not my fault I keep getting dragged away," Fili grumbled. "You could do my appointments for me if you're so concerned about my skills getting rusty."

Kili looked appropriately horrified. "I'd rather listen to Gloin tell the story of how he and his wife met, again." As he spoke he turned his attention on Bilba, his gaze guarded but significantly less so than when she'd first awakened. He seemed willing to entertain the notion at least that she wasn't a threat to Fili, deliberately or otherwise. "Bilba."

Bilba nodded back at him in greeting.

"I thought she'd enjoy the Vanguard," Fili said. "She's like Uncle Frerin. She doesn't like just sitting around."

Bilba's eyes widened at the comparison. He thought she was like Frerin? A warm feeling flooded her at the compliment.

"If you two would chat less and fight more," a gruff voice called out, "you might stop getting your arses kicked by trainees ten years younger than you."

Bilba stiffened, her lip curling at the sound of the Chief Bastard's voice. Fili rolled his eyes and slapped Kili on the shoulder. He ran back into the crush of other trainees and Fili nodded at her to follow him to where the bastard was standing with the other group of dwarves at the opposite side of the are – training ground, Bilba corrected swiftly. She couldn't bring herself to call it an arena, even if that was its basic shape.

As they neared the group she noted most were male though a few women were sprinkled in as well. Two of the men were dwobbits, the rest dwarves. All of them were older with hard looks in their faces she recognized. They were warriors, every last one of them, used to constant battle.

She saw a blonde dwarf talking to one of the other males and recognized him as Fili and Kili's father. He was more easygoing and laid back than the others and she already knew he had a personality closer to that of his younger son.

The Chief Bastard broke away from the group and approached them.

"Bilba wanted to try out for the Vanguard," Fili said before the other could speak. "She isn't happy sitting around in the mountain all day."

"Who would be?" The bastard asked. He frowned at her and Bilba glared back. "You know what the Vanguard does?"

The very last thing Bilba ever wanted to do was form a mental link with him but, fortunately for her, she'd spent the last week relearning much of the Iglishmek that Bofur had taught her in the Shire and Frerin had taught her before that.

She lifted her hands and signed the negative, her gestures a bit sharper than absolutely necessary.

He grunted. "We keep the area around Erebor and Dale safe. Orcs, wolves, bandits, and the like. We'd have dealt with that group that attacked that caravan once we knew about it."

Which would have been after the entire caravan had been slaughtered, Bilba thought sourly. She raised an eyebrow at his "we" comment. Surely he didn't expect her to believe he was part of this Vanguard group?

"I don't think she needs to try out," one of the males called, "her reputation precedes her. She can clearly fight."

"She can fight orcs and bandits," the bastard corrected, "and whatever half-dead fighters unfortunate enough to land in that pit in Moria." He studied her, "Were you ever trained or do you do it by instinct? Have you ever fought against someone trained? Healthy and trained?"

Fili answered before she could. "Why does that matter? She can fight."

"It matters," the bastard growled, "because she's around Durins and someone is determined to wipe out the whole lot of you."

Bilba frowned. Someone was targeting the royal family? She turned to look at Fili and saw his face had twisted into an irritated look.

"The last three attacks were by trained assassins," the bastard continued. He nodded toward Bilba, "what happens if one of them goes after her by association? Or if she just happens to be in the vicinity when the next one happens?" His attention turned to her. "Orcs are hive fighters and frenzy fighters when they're on their own. They either overwhelm their foe by sheer numbers or in a beserker rage. Everyone else you've faced has fought by instinct or panic, no doubt putting you on the same level."

A small voice in the back of her mind was informing her the bastard had a point but Bilba rebelled at having to listen to a single word he said.

I can fight fine, she signed sharply.

He frowned and then looked at Fili. "Fine, tell you what. You can join the Vanguard if you can beat Fili in a sparring match."

Fili started to protest but the bastard held up a hand to silence him, his eyes focused on Bilba. "Well?"

Fine. Bilba signed. Her anger at him was rising again. How dare he question her? She could still hear the warning going off in the back of her head, pointing out the annoying fact that nothing he'd said was wrong, that he was only trying to help her in fact, but she suppressed it savagely.

Fili retrieved two training swords from the rows lining the near wall. The weapons were real so trainees could get used to the feel and weight but had been blunted so there would be no accidental limb amputations.

That didn't mean they couldn't cause damage though.

He handed her one and she shifted, turning it absently in one hand. It felt like forever since she'd handled a sword.

Fili squared off across from her and, at a nod from her, they began.

He disarmed her in less than twenty seconds.

Bilba stared at the point of his sword, resting lightly on her breastbone, in disbelief.

She honestly wasn't sure what had happened. She'd stepped forward, blocking the blow he'd sent at her, went to return one of her own…and he'd done some odd twisting thing, under her blade. The next thing she'd felt was his elbow striking her ribs, throwing her off balance enough that her grip had loosened on her sword…and now it was lying in the dirt.

Fili stepped back. "I'm sorry. I probably didn't give you enough time to get ready."

He'd given her plenty of time and they both knew it. Bilba retrieved her sword, embarrassment surging through her, and got back in position.

The second bout went better.

She lasted thirty seconds.

Her sword hit the dirt again and Bilba grit her teeth, her hands clasped into fists. She looked toward the bastard, expecting to see him gloating.

He wasn't.

His arms were crossed over his chest and he was silently observing. Behind him the other members of the Vanguard were also watching. There was no censure on their faces, no judgment, just observation.

Bilba swallowed, her throat dry, and picked the sword up again.

Fili was hesitant in their third bout, his blows significantly weakened, his guards halfhearted.

Bastard made a sound of disgust and stepped forward, where he proceeded to disarm Fili barehanded.

Bilba stared at him, stunned.

He didn't notice, his focus on Fili who, in turn, didn't appear surprised at all.

"You think you're helping her with that half-arsed garbage?" Bastard snapped. "You think the next trained assassin who comes after you is going to hold back on her?"

"I don't see any reason to humiliate her," Fili growled back.

"And I don't see any reason for her to die because she hates me too much to take my advice!" Dwalin shot back.

He moved past Fili and faced off against her. "Alright," he said, facing her. "You've certainly tried to glare me to death enough since you arrived." He spread his arms. "Here's your chance. Have at it."

Bilba didn't need to be asked twice.

She lunged at him, her sword swinging low, intending to take out his legs.

A second later she was flat on her back, the point of his sword at her throat.

"You're too emotional," he said, his voice flat. "That's another thing training will help you with."

That was a fluke, Bilba thought. It had to have been. She hadn't even seen him move. There was no way he'd been that fast.

She reached for her sword, and then surged up from her seated position, hoping to come up inside his guard.

She was flat on her back again an instant later.

Bastard stood over her with the point of the blunted sword at her throat again.

Bilba felt the floodgates open.

With a near scream of rage she went at him again.

This time he let her. She could feel it with every blow and every swing. He was pulling back, even more than Fili had been. He was letting her fight him.

It made her even angrier, the world blurring in front of her as tears of pure hatred leaked out.

He could fight.

She'd told herself he couldn't. That he was a coward.

But he wasn't.

He could fight.

He was part of Vanguard, a force whose sole purpose was to fight the darkness in the world.

He was a warrior…and

Hadn't.

Come.

Her sword hit the dirt, spinning away from her.

She collapsed to one knee, bracing one hand on the dirt, her chest heaving.

Anger pulsed through her like a live thing, electrifying her nerves and causing her entire body to tremble with the effort to contain it. Her head pounded.

A shadow fell over her and she looked up as the bastard knelt next to her.

"That's a lot of hate and anger for someone your age to be carrying around," he said, his voice low and for her ears only. "You want to just tell me what it's about already?"

She couldn't bring herself to tell him. She'd wanted to, many times already, wanting to see him hurt as much as she did, assuming he'd care at all.

Every time she'd tried, however, the words had lodged in her throat.

Deep down, past her barriers, past the gaping scars a lifetime of pain had carved on her soul, far enough that she didn't have to look, she knew why.

I have no problem with you, she sighed, her gestures short and jagged.

He nodded. "Now I know what you look like when you lie." He stood up. "When you're ready to tell me you know where I am. Try to do it before that anger burns you into ash."

Noise caught her attention and Bilba looked away from him. On the other side of the area, where they'd entered, the majority of the dwarves her own age were still going through their paces. Four of them, however, had broken away and were clustered in a group facing her. As she watched one of them mimicked her getting disarmed and the other three broke into laughter.

Humiliation raced through her and Bilba pushed to her feet.

Bastard's voice suddenly snapped out a command. All four of the dwarves shut up instantly, their faces paling. The bastard said something else and the four walked forward, their steps dragging.

"What'd I teach you about mocking others?" The bastard growled.

One of the dwarves, stocky with short cropped dark hair, answered, "That no one mocked us when we were beginners and we should show others the same respect."

"And," a second one, taller with dirty blond hair and stubble instead of a beard, added, "that if we were going to mock someone we better be sure we were better than they were and capable of protecting ourselves when they took offense."

"Which we are," the third one cut in. He was the tallest of the four with a large frame and long, ash blond hair he clearly put a lot of time into. He gave her a cocky look now and Bilba had to struggle to not punch him. She saw his eyes move over, and his look falter slightly as he caught the answering look in Fili's eyes.

"Well if you're so sure," bastard said, "why don't we test that?" He stepped forward and grabbed the youth's arm in a tight grip and led him and the rest to a point several yards away. He headed back and stood next to Bilba and Fili. "I'm going to count down from twenty. When I hit zero I want you to attack her." He shot her a look. "Just think of them as orcs." He paused and then added, "Don't permanently maim them."

The arrogant one raised an eyebrow. "At the same time? Don't you think that's a bit dishonorable? She might get hurt."

"What I think is dishonorable is you shooting your mouth off, Garn," bastard responded shortly, "and I think Orcrist should have the right to defend herself. So-" He started counting.

Bilba frowned, her mind absently calculating how far away the dwarves were from her.

Am I allowed to use my surroundings? She asked Fili.

Of course, He responded immediately. Dwalin believes in fights being as realistic as possible. You'd expect a real attacker to use anything at his or her disposal. The ability to adapt is one of the most important aspects of our training.

He sounded like he was reciting something. Bilba nodded. How fast do you think they can cover the distance from there to here? She asked Fili.

His eyes narrowed for a few minutes, studying the other dwarves. He must have fought with them before, Bilba thought, so he should have a good idea of their speed.

He answered her and Bilba nodded. She moved and grabbed Fili's arm, turning and walking him away from bastard and the others, absently counting in her mind and explaining her plan as they went.

They stopped where she wanted him and she headed back, walking past bastard and putting herself closer to the group of four.

The arrogant one sneered at her but she ignored him. Hand to hand against multiple foes had always been her element, a fact she suspiciously felt the bastard had figured out. She'd never felt as comfortable with a sword, the weapon always feeling slightly clunky and awkward in her hand.

She felt her mind calm and her body relax.

Maybe she wasn't trained in weapons.

Maybe she couldn't beat Fili or bastard at the moment.

But a group of orcs, or four arrogant upstarts her own age if not younger?

That she could do.

Behind the four she could see the rest of the trainees had stopped what they were doing and were watching. The Vanguard members were as well. The entire area had fallen silent in fact, but for the steady cadence of the bastard counting down.

He reached zero.

The four charged.

Bilba spun and ran, back toward Fili.

Behind her the arrogant one started wasting his breath. "What's wrong? To scared to face us?"

"That's right," one of the others said, clearly emboldened by his leader's idiocy, "Run back to the Prince. Maybe he'll protect you!"

Fili dropped smoothly to one knee. He laced his hands together and lowered them almost to the floor.

Bilba reached him and slid one foot into his hands. He shoved up instantly, even as Bilba pushed off with her other leg.

A second later she was soaring through the area, her face looking up toward the stone ceiling high overhead.

She wouldn't go far…but she wasn't planning to.

She spun, rotating her body until it faced the floor, and curled into a tight ball.

She shot straight over the heads of the arrogant one.

She'd misjudged a bit. She'd wanted to pass up the first two at least, and hopefully come down on top of the third one. She could see now though she'd land between the first one and the other three.

That was alright though.

She could adapt.

Her feet hit the ground with a jar that shook her body and she went into a crouch, her back to the three behind her.

She was barely down before she came up again. She spun as she did, snapping her hips around and putting the full force of her body into the left fist she drove into the face of the second attacker.

His nose gave way under her hand, blood spraying as he went down.

The third one hadn't even fully registered she was there. Bilba was already twisting at the waist, her right elbow snapping up and connecting solidly with his face.

Two broken noses.

The fourth one flailed, trying to stop himself before he ran into the collapsed bodies of his peers.

Bilba pivoted on her right foot. Her left leg flicked out and the top of her foot connected solidly with the side of his head.

He fell and she drew the leg in, allowing the motion to turn her to face the first attacker.

He'd only just skidded to a stop and was still in the process of turning around.

To find his three friends lying on the ground, in various states of holding their noses or heads and moaning in pain.

From the moment she'd hit the ground the entire thing had taken ten seconds.

His eyes widened in shock and his mouth fell open.

Then he dropped to his knees, his hands up. "I give up! I give up! I don't want to fight."

Bilba made a disgusted sound, one that was mirrored by bastard who came up and cuffed him sharply on the back of the head.

"You think someone in a bar or inn will let you just give up after you insulted them?" He dragged the dwarf to his feet. "You disgrace the honor of Erebor." He gestured to the other three who were slowly getting up. "The lot of you get out. Go to the Healing Wards and consider yourselves lucky this lesson only left you with broken noses and damaged egos. The last thing I want to hear about is a soldier getting killed in a bar fight because he was too fool to keep his mouth shut."

He shoved the dwarf at his friends and turned his back, dismissing them.

On the other side of the area, Bilba saw the other trainees slowly returning to their own routines, though not before shooting her looks of admiration and respect. Even Kili gave her a nod and pleased smile before getting his own weapon and returning to his training.

"So," Fili said, stepping alongside her. "This is not how I expected this to go. I just wanted to help, find something that would let you get out." He studied her, his eyes anxious. "I'm sorry, Bilba. I didn't mean-"

It isn't your fault, Bilba said, and she meant it. Fili had been trying to help her.

As had the bastard.

As much as she hated to admit it, and make no mistake she hated it, he was right.

Footsteps crunched in the dirt and the bastard appeared, holding her practice sword.

"You have natural talent and perfect instincts," he said, "With training, you could be the best warrior Erebor has ever seen." He studied her, his face expressionless, "Let me train you, personally. "You get to join Vanguard and spend every morning doing your best to kick my arse. How's that?"

Bilba nodded tiredly, reaching out to take the blade.

He was right about one other thing too. The level of anger she carried around was hard to sustain. It had burned out entirely for the moment, leaving exhaustion and an old, deep pain behind.

She didn't like that pain, or the feelings that came along with it.

"Don't you worry Bilba," her mother's voice said in her mind, "Your father is coming, you hear me? He's going to come save us both. Just you wait."

And she had.

She'd waited, and waited…and she'd waited.

The bastard had taken position in front of her and, at his gesture, she copied his stance, trying to hold her sword the same way he was.

She'd believed he would come.

She'd believed he hadn't because he couldn't.

Because he was a coward.

She was quickly finding out that wasn't true.

"He'll come," her mother's voice repeated, the words blending into the hundreds, thousands of times she'd said it over the course of Bilba's lifetime.

"He'll come."

She'd believed that.

He'd been her hero.

Her champion.

She'd imagine scenario after scenario in her mind of him charging to the rescue, bursting through the walls to carry her and her mother out of Moria.

She'd told the other slaves, over and over again, don't worry, it's fine, my father is coming.

He'll rescue us.

He'll save us, all of us.

But he hadn't.

Not her mother.

And not her.

Why?

The only answer she could think of was one that cut deeper than any blade.

He hadn't come, not because he was a coward, not because he couldn't fight.

Her champion, her hero, her father hadn't come….because he simply hadn't wanted to.