Hello friends! I haven't posted on this site in a while, but I've been working on some stories during that time. This is one of them! I wasn't a major LOTR fan, but I really got into the Hobbit when those movies came out. I especially fell in love with Thorin. The character has such a good story arc, and Richard Armitage is flawless! It's been a few years since the movies came out, but I wrote this because I needed more Thorin. I have read a majority of the other stories on here featuring Thorin (there are some good ones) and now I hope to add my interpretation of the character.

Please read and review! And visit my other stories, if you like my writing style!

The journey back to the Blue Mountains seemed longer than the journey to Erebor. At least that's what Thorin thought as they crossed the terrain back to the place he temporarily called home. Thorin rode near the front of the group returning to help those who wanted to move to Erebor. Other travelers had made it safely to the Lonely Mountain, his sister included, and now more dwarves wanted to see their homeland.

Nearly a year had passed since the battle for the mountain, and dwarves from all over were waiting to call Erebor home. As the newly crowned King, Thorin was expected to stay within the walls of his kingdom, but Balin had suggested he ride to the Blue Mountains and enjoy the fresh air.

They both knew Thorin needed to escape Erebor, not to cleanse his lungs, but to cleanse his mind. Though he had survived the beginnings of the dragon sickness, there would be moments where Thorin's eyes held sparks of the disease and his temper would flare out of control. Balin thought a long journey away from Erebor would help Thorin get over the remaining side effects.

A loud screech echoing through the trees pulled Thorin from his own thoughts, and forced him into a defensive position.

"Arm yourselves! Keep your eyes peeled." He commanded, drawing his sword.

The men around him readied their weapons, searching the woods for enemies. They didn't have to wait long before orcs ran out of the trees and onto the path. When the two groups collided, Thorin and the other dwarves began slicing at the orcs as they drew near; the dwarves bashed and chopped at the orcs, easily dispatching their enemy. The orcs closed in on all sides of the company, some of them on foot, while others straddled the backs of wargs. Thorin's men were some of the fiercest dwarves of the Iron Hills along with a few from his own company.

Their enemy didn't stand a chance. The orc screams of attack became the orc screams of retreat as the dwarves proved to be more than prepared for a fight.

Thorin slashed one across the throat and looked around for another target. He saw an orc driving a wagon, pulled by a warg, away from the fight and kicked his pony to follow. He easily caught up and raced alongside the driver. The driver attempted to stab at Thorin, but the dwarf king ducked and returned the blow to the orcs chest. It fell from the wagon, dead. Continuing his pursuit, Thorin plunged his sword into the back of the warg, the animal went limp and fell to the ground, sliding to a stop with the wagon right behind it.

As he dismounted his pony, Thorin checked for other orcs either on the path, or in the woods. He kept his sword up as he moved to the back of the wagon. The flap covering the contents of the wagon was loose, and as Thorin reached to pull it back, a fist shot out and caught Thorin on the chin.

He stumbled back slightly, but regained his balance. Thorin's attacker had climbed out of the wagon, and their feet hit the ground.

"Stop! Remove your hood and face me." Thorin ordered, raising his sword.

The figure turned to him, pushing back the hood to reveal their face. Thorin's eyes went wide seeing a dwarf woman looking back at him.

"Who are you?" He asked, lowering his sword.

The woman forced her chin up. "I am Lady Kaleria, daughter of Lord Marzel of the Blue Mountains."

Thorin sheathed his sword. "I am Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror," he gave a bow, "at your service."

Kaleria dropped into a courtesy, staring at the ground. "My King, I am sorry I struck you. I thought you were another orc."

"It's alright," he stepped toward her, "are you hurt?"

Kaleria straightened, meeting his eyes. "No, sir."

"We have a healer among our company. Would you mind if he looked at you?"

"If it pleases you, sir, but I believe I am alright," said Kaleria.

Thorin smirked. "My chin thinks you are, too, but just to be safe."

Kaleria scrunched her eyebrows. "I already apologized."

"Yes, you did." Thorin smirked, grabbing the reins of his pony and walking back toward his men with Kaleria following.

The men were gathering the bodies of the orcs and the wargs, moving them off the path. Those who weren't moving bodies were taking inventory of their own goods and the goods they removed from their deceased attackers.

"Where is Oin?" Thorin questioned as he moved through the crowd.

"Here, sir." Oin appeared from a group gathered in the middle of the path.

"This woman was a prisoner of the orcs. Would you please examine her for injuries?"

"Of course," replied Oin. "This way, miss."

Kaleria looked at Thorin, who nodded his encouragement for her to follow. She stared at him a moment longer before moving to follow Oin to a large cart near the edge of the path.

Oin began by looking for any obvious injuries. He noticed bruises around her wrists from being bound and a cut in her lip, most likely from being hit across the face. He asked her if she felt pain in any part of her body, and when she told him of the soreness in her wrists, he nodded. He gave her a canteen to drink from before placing a handful of leaves into her palm.

"Chew and swallow these for me. They will help with the pain." He instructed.

Kaleria did as she was told.

While Oin had been examining her, Kaleria had been examining Thorin. Her eyes were glued to him as he marched around the camp ordering his men to regroup. Though his men followed his orders because he was their king, Kaleria could tell they would do as he said without his title; Thorin was a true leader. She now understood why the few members of his company had followed him to Erebor.

Thorin approached her and Oin, and Kaleria ducked her head to avoid having him know she was staring.

"Any concerns?" Thorin asked.

"Aside from a few bruises, I believe she is completely healthy," said Oin.

"I told you," grumbled Kaleria.

Thorin frowned. "Aye, you did. Will you tell me how you ended up in that orc wagon?"

Kaleria met his gaze. "I am female, and they wanted entertainment. I am sure they were entertained when I smashed their leader in the face with a rock."

Thorin's hard expression softened, catching her meaning, and he thanked Mahal that he found her when he did.

"I am sorry," he said. "We will return you to your people."

"Thank you." Kaleria kept a straight face.

Thorin looked around at his men, ready to continue their journey. "We don't have an extra pony. Are you willing to ride with me?"

"I can walk, sir."

"I will not have you walk. You have been through enough. I will walk."

Kaleria stood, shaking her head in refusal. "I will not make the king of Erebor walk beside his own pony. We can both ride, if we must."

"Are you comfortable with that?" He asked, concerned she thought he was pressuring her for the wrong reasons.

"As comfortable as I can be on a hard saddle." Kaleria remarked.

Thorin smirked at her snarky comment, enjoying her wit. He directed his men to mount up, then got on his pony. He reached a hand down to help Kaleria mount behind him. She settled herself behind Thorin, gripping the fabric at his waist to hold on. The group began their march toward the Blue Mountains, with Kaleria sending a silent prayer to Mahal for sending the king to save her.