It had taken her a good few days to recover. The cuts and bruises she had sustained from being dragged backwards had been much greater than she realised, and pushing herself to walk, even to shower or go to the bathroom, had been hard. So someone had always sat in with her. Thorin, Dwalin, Lis, Dis, Fili and Kili had all taken turns.

When she had finally returned back to their shared house, she had found Lis had partially moved in, and of course she had the constant presence of Athol there. She had reassured him each night that she wouldn't go venturing outside and sent him home to rest, but he was always back the next morning often earlier than she woke. He had also taken to driving her to and from work.

Once again by the end of the second week, they had fallen into a routine. Except, Shobha found herself thinking about him. She had expected him to be mad at her – not so understanding… or even gentle. But each time she reminded herself that he had clearly remained single all this time for a reason, and she would be a fool to think he enjoyed anything more than a flirt at best with her. It frequently made her want to go for a run, but her healing, bruised body simply was not ready yet.

Then suddenly, one afternoon when she had finished work early, she asked Athol to change into his running gear, and they began with a long walk. He kept some distance, at first, letting her get lost in her thoughts until she realised she had made her way to the edge of the woods where she had spotted the carcass all those weeks ago. Athol had caught up to her then, but she had already stopped in the field of heather she had stopped to rest back then, plonking herself down on the ground. There was still ample daylight to allow a forty minute rest and still get back before dusk.

Athol had take his time to look around vigilantly before finally squatting beside her.

"Miss Shobha, I would prefer it if we didn't stop here for too long." He explained quietly. "Those woods over there are not the sort of place we should be venturing near."

"Sorry, I didn't realise I had made my way here… I guess I have walked around Erebor so little this is the only route I remember." She apologised, recalling her last time.

"You have been here before, Miss?" He raised a heavy eyebrow at her, lines on his forehead cracking in surprise.

"Uh – erm… well…" she suddenly remembered what Dwalin had said about not telling anyone about her little venture, and so attempted to change the subject subtly. "So… I guess you are directly accountable to Dwalin right?"

"Aye Miss," he carried on in his deep voice, continuing to be vigilant of the distant lines. "Except, Lord Thorin expects me to give him a report of your wellbeing each day, now."

"Oh I see." She tried to hide her disappointment. " – every day?! Really?!"

"Aye Miss." He nodded.

"What exactly does he ask about…?" She couldn't help her curiosity. It seemed like such an oddly excessive thing for someone so important to take the time to do. Her instant thought was to believe he somehow distrusted her.

"All sorts of things Miss…" he turned to gauge her now, looking at her as if he noticed her for the first time. "Do you really wish to know?"

"Well… I'm trying to make some polite conversation to begin with, but also… I suppose, I'm curious since it is about me. And I thought I have been quite good over the last couple of weeks. No breaking or even bending any rules." She smiled at him, seeing his own lips twitch in an attempt at reciprocating. But it seemed Athol had probably not smiled at work for the last fifteen years at least.

"Actually he asks whether you have been resting well; If I hear you having nightmares, on the nights I remain late; whether you eat well enough when you return home, or whether you seem to miss your family in any way…" he watched her closely for a reaction. "He wondered whether you were healing well enough recently… we had both believed you would wish to go for a run you see…"

"Oh." She looked into the distance watching the tree line and the darkness it seemed to hold beneath its thick canopy. It was still too much for her to wrap her head around Thorin's interest in her daily routine. It could only seem, he was curious to know whether she might truly wish to return home.

"Miss…" he sounded confident at first and then backed away slowly. "Would you mind my asking… why come to Erebor?"

"I don't know Athol…" as she uttered the words she realised it was not true. The reality was, this was her do-over, her second chance, away from the wide circle of acquaintances her former fiancé knew. And she tired of meeting people everywhere that had remembered her on the arm of that man. He was not powerful, but simply, very well connected. "Actually… I wanted time away from London. I guess I have spent almost a lifetime there… And the way Oin spoke of Erebor… it seemed like a really lovely place. A small community…"

"You sound disappointed Miss." He scanned the full perimeter again, before returning his gaze to her.

"No… I mean, everyone has been so lovely…" she scanned the tree line herself before looking back at him as he waited for an answer quite patiently. "It's just I was hoping to have explored Dale and maybe taken a few more walks like this around here by now… and don't call me Miss – just Shobha is fine. Miss reminds me of my old school teachers!"

"Aye Miss – Shobha –" he corrected awkwardly. "Walking out here in the wild is not the best idea when you are alone. Even we are armed when we come out here. But I think that may be why Lord Thorin has arranged for my guard. And I can drive you to Dale, if that helps."

"Well yeah… I guess, when the weather turns here, there really is nothing to do –"

"Actually Miss – Shobha – we will have the harvest festival and Durins Day coming up in autumn. And then we celebrate All Hallow-tide. And Yule. The wee ones love it because Gandalf arrives – you may have heard of him… the famous magician?"

"I think I have actually – but he is terribly elusive isn't he?" She wracked her brains trying to remember how she had heard of him, other than his refusal to perform for a mainstream TV channel, a story she had read in a newspaper some years ago, where he had been depicted as quite eccentric to turn down a multimillion pound television contract for a set of three shows! "Why does he come to Erebor?"

"He is a close family friend of the Lord Durin – Lord Thorin's father… and grandfather for that matter." Athol frowned as if realising something about the magician himself. "In truth I am not certain how old he really is!"

After a quick glance at the burly bodyguard who was deep in thought, she continued to stare at the dark tree line. As the day edged closer to dusk, and with the overcast skies, her distance vision was less clear, but she watched for any movement within its shadows anyway.

"So, what's the deal with you…?"

He looked at her unsure of what she meant.

"You're here morning and night. Don't you miss your family?"

"Aye. It's my wife and our baby boy. But he's six months and still wakes at night for feeds, so even when I go home late, I will get to cuddle him." A soft and subtle smile washed over his face as he thought of his young family. "Anyway my wife appreciates the sleep, and I get to have a nap during the day when you're at work."

"Oh you should take more evenings off early then!" She turned to find him giving her a skeptical look. "I promise I won't go out. I will just stay in the house!"

"Aye… let's see. Lord Thorin doesn't often ask for personal favours such as this. When he does – we consider it an honour…"

"Well come on then. Let's head back and you head home as soon as I get in." She stood dusting off bits of heather and debris, still unable to break her gaze from the woods. To her surprise she thought she could see movement from within! A figure… tall and pale… but whatever or whoever it was seemed to glimmer slightly! She remained there completely still watching. "Hey… um… Athol – is there something there?"

"Where?" He undid his gun scanning the tree line himself. But apparently whatever it was had disappeared.

"What is that there?"

"That is Mirkwood, Miss." He explained, guiding her away and back towards the house. "You never go there. It is inhabited by Mahal-knows what… some say there are backwoodsmen in living there – wild men, without morals. Some say they are demons who drink and posses the spirits of the living…"

She couldn't help but look over her shoulder at the woods again as he led her away. Did he mean Vampires lived there…?

"What like vampires? … the undead?" She asked stumbling over as she kept looking back.

"I see you've been to the old chapel in Dale then?" Athol laughed. "All these stories are probably silly folk tales… Well, look, it is said the town sought help even from the Knights Templar, but that when they arrived they feared the plight of these vampires so much, and had no strength or weaponry to match that the only solution they could think was to seal the road and abandon the town, naming it the 'Hellmouth'… but finally the mayor of Dale heard of the Longbeard Clan. Durins Folk. Blessed with unnatural strength, and a viscousness in battle that instilled fear into the hearts of any who were due to face them. It is said that many soldiers fled, abandoning their armies upon hearing that Durin's Sons marched towards them – even before battle. And so it earned us the name the 'Wolf Clan'…"

She followed Athol, listening avidly, trying to keep up on the uneven ground. He smiled to himself noticing her unbroken attention, and carried on.

"But like any who were successful, strong and powerful, we were feared. Of course, in part, we were a Pagan clan. We did not believe in their God. And eventually stories of being cursed, and lycanthropy were spread - vile rumours, in attempt to bring us down. But in the end, we could outlast any in our rock fortresses, and with our secret tunnels and passages designed to allow us out to kill any who attempted a siege. And our mining and engineering skills to build into any mountain meant we were no match for even the greatest armies. And so we live today, still with our traditions and beliefs in tact. And proud of our heritage miss." Athol explained before glancing back over at the border of Mirkwood himself. It made her wonder whether he did in fact see something there too. "Everything else is faerie-stories!"

"And do you celebrate any pagan festivals here…?"

"Well we have Yuletide instead of your Christmas. We celebrate Durins Day coming up in October - that's our biggest one. We give thanks to our great father Mahal. And Hallowseve. And in spring we have the festival of Yavanna, wife of our great father, bringer of life to our lands. That often coincides with grouse shooting season…"

"What?! You have grouse shooting up here?"

"Not us. Dale sells expensive licences to the land further down, but you inevitably get some spoilt rich idiot who wants to come up here, where the land is unspoilt. It often doesn't end well.. for them rather than the grouse." He smirked, a slightly menacing look settling over his coarse features. "You like all these legends and stories don't you?"

She nodded, smiling realising how easily he regaled her with the precious myths and legends from their clan. Too easily.

"I guess you're giving me the 'cleaned-up', 'I-don't-trust-you-fully-yet', outsider-version right?"

He couldn't help but grin back at her sharpness. She was not as naïve as he thought.

"So… are you going to tell Thorin about this little excursion…?" She asked suddenly, a bit worried. As far as she was concerned Dwalin had told her to keep her trip to the border of the woodland quiet. If Athol truly gave Thorin a full account of her activities, he would instantly put it all together. She was less concerned about his anger. In fact, on the contrary, something about the way she seemed to irritate him, secretly thrilled her! She was not even worried about losing her new found freedoms. She was on the verge of throwing the towel in here when he caved. Mike had ruined her desire for the stable and settled life she once craved. It left her with a wanderlust that she had struggled to satisfy until she came to Erebor. The land around here was truly unchartered, not like some idyllic golden, powder-sand edged island, that was quiet, but turned out to house some seven-star rated exclusive hotel, which was the true reason for the exclusivity! Those woods drew her in, the old history she spotted in the chapel at Dale fired her curiosity, and she could only imagine the coast here, although was cold, must have truly been secluded. And she craved to see it all. What little compromise Thorin had agreed to, leaving her in the charge of this watchful brute, who was actually much more observant than he let on, was nothing.

No, the true reason, she feared her shared secret being outed was in case it got poor Dwalin in trouble. He had been one of the few who had been kind to her in Erebor, and not expected anything back. From the way he looked, she would never have guessed it. But she had secretly grown rather fond of 'Uncle Dwalin', and his gruff but soft ways. It was him she wanted to protect in this instance.

"Look at me – the men of this clan like their hair, but I have pretty much lost all mine. I have no intention of being punished for your desire to explore where you shouldn't." Athol brushed a handover his stubbly beard, which matched his fully shaven head.

"Is that a punishment? I mean is it even a thing anymore?" She raised an eyebrow finally catching up to him as the ground evened as they approached closer to the road.

"Yup. I mean we can't keep our beards too full in security anyway. Thank clean shaven here is tantamount to being an ex-con with visible prison tattoos!"

"You know about all that?" She was shocked at his knowledge of non-Erebor life.

"Aye. I have travelled to Glasgow and some of the northern cities. I actually trained by working as a prison guard at one point in my younger years." He explained very matter of fact. It made her feel stupid for thinking that most Ereboreans were clueless about the rest of modern society. "And I get it: you're curious. But remember curiosity killed the cat… and this is not a good place to be a cat. So don't expect me to indulge you, the way Lord Dwalin does. He may have a soft spot for you, but I am not Lord Thorin's Cousin, and I have a family who need me not to lose my job. So I won't tell on you, but we won't be wondering about freely either."

She half smiled at his reference to the cat and couldn't help but wonder whether he was a werewolf.

….

That night her dreams had been plagued by monsters. Werewolves in particular, but she had also kept seeing those dark woods and the dead calf. It seemed the canopy of the woods were truly so dense that little light filtered through. Most living animals needed the sun, she could only imagine what sort of creatures lurked in there.

That morning she had checked with Athol and planned a trip to Dale for the weekend. She had come to accept her life would be somewhat restricted for now, but didn't intend on demanding his time over the weekend unless his young family had not needed him.

That lunchtime during her break she had walked over to the large town library. Where she found her way to the section on history of the region and town, after a trip to the myths and legends aisle.

It was generally a quiet place – more so than any other public library she had been to before. And these sections appeared to be the least popular, positioned almost in the very farthest and darkest corner of the large stone building carved into the side of the rock.

Glancing at her watch quickly, Shobha looked through the various volumes and books she had selected, when another book jutting out of the shelf drew her attention.

'The undead of Mirkwood'.

Picking up the book carefully, after setting the others down on a small table, she began to flick through the pages. The book was old, the accompanying illustrations were sketches or the trees, and tall human creatures with sharp, pointed ears and fangs. And despite there being an impression of some imagination to this – it appeared that the author believed Vampires lived in those woods!

She had seen the carcass of that poor dead calf, separated from its mother. And now thinking back she hadn't noticed any blood around the animal despite its clear evisceration!

"Interested in our history… are we?" A deep voice sounded from close behind. It startled her, making her drop the book which landed on the floor with a loud thud. It probably would have echoed if not for the rugs that lined each aisle.

Immediately reaching down to pick up the book she noticed the sharp suited arm that reached for the book along with her was Thorin's. Her heart raced as he beat her to it, standing up and holding on to the solid shelves.

"Lord Thorin!" She tucked a strand of hair back from her face almost nervously, surprised at herself for feeling that way.

"The undead of Mirkwood… hmmm?" He thumbed through the book before returning it to her, half smirking. "I think we are suitably private here, that you may call me Thorin. After all, you disapprove of formal titles do you not, Shobha?"

He deliberately used her name, slowly and carefully.

"How did you come across Mirkwood…?" He leant a little closer, watching her suspiciously.

"I didn't… I mean… I have have just found it – I didn't realise there was a wood out here." Her heart raced, hoping she wouldn't out either Dwalin or Athol inadvertently for letting her go so close. "I was hoping I could convince Athol to take me for a hike there –"

His reaction was immediate, his brow furrowing, and his face turning much darker.

"Mirkwood is not part of our land – it is out of bounds and frankly dangerous." He hissed at her through gritted teeth.

"Ok… maybe Dale does some sort of guided tour –" annoying him was the best she could think of to distract him from any thought that she had any prior knowledge of the place.

"Are you deaf woman?! It is out of bounds! You are not to go anywhere near the place! And Dale has no ownership over it either. It belongs to someone completely different, who we have no dealings with!" And it was so clear that he angered easily when it came to her!

It was a strange power she had over him – just like he made her feel completely vulnerable. She clearly seemed to hold the ability to annoy him with the greatest ease!

"Don't make me regret my decisions regarding your movement."

"Ok. Ok. Jeez! Keep your shirt on. Although I know it's hard when you're around me – I mean it's hard to keep calm! Not that you're hard! I mean – angry! Not hard! Oh God!" She could feel herself flushing, as she thought of how they woke up that morning, both almost completely naked with their bodies pressed together. And he was very hard indeed! So she quickly attempted to change to subject. "Did you catch that thing in the tunnels?"

"Thing? I suspect it's the same person as who broke into your room." He replied coldly.

"Oh – any leads?" She wondered why he was still trying to deny it. Perhaps she hadn't seen it clearly, but, there was no doubt that it was a giant humanoid wolf-creature – and judging from all the local history and legend, this was lycanthropy!

"I think it's best you leave the investigation to us. You know what they say about curiosity and the cat," he suddenly seemed to enjoy having flustered her. "And Erebor is not a good place for cats."

There was that phrase again! It was clearly a local thing, but what did they mean? Was it because of the werewolves?

Then she spotted his hand! It was just barely two weeks and he had no dressings over it or even a scar visible! And it had been deep enough to require stitches to help it! At least she would have expected a fresh red scar, even if the scabs had only just fallen!

"Hey, How is your hand?" She reached out but he stepped away, pulling his hand back and out of plain sight.

"Still sore, but healing. I thank you for your concern."

"Gosh! You've healed really fast! I mean it's amazing –"

"Well, I must take my leave Shobha, I will be late for a meeting." He bowed his head again as he stepped away. "I'm glad to see you are recovering well – I understand you were almost ready for a run?"

She didn't know how to respond to that. He clearly seemed to feel some sense of responsibility for her, but she imagined he felt the same for all those who lived in Erebor.

"Be a good girl and stay out of trouble. No woods – no exploring." And with that he was gone.

But he had left her with more questions still. Who did Mirkwood belong to then? Who or what lived in there? Perhaps she might get more answers from Dale…

…

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UnaLouise - the romance in this may be a bit slow...but I cant help it - they def want to, its just the reluctance. and there are some clues in there. he keeps occasionally revealing things - its like he's teasing her with the truth! no wonder she cant help her curiosity to nosy about lol! ;)