You guys are seriously amazing, do you know that? We broke 300 reviews! Like... I'm still in shock, honestly. I can't thank you all enough for your feedback and your support. Ima cry. ilu :')

So this chapter kicked my ass thoroughly. I tried not to overdo the movie scenes, but it was kind of fun to see what Thorin might've been thinking in some of them. Eh, I'll just let you guys decide.


The Loudest Silence

Chapter Eighteen


Thorin supposed this could have been avoided several different ways. One of which may have been listening to the Wizard before they made camp, though he was more inclined to believe the Troll situation was set in motion by a Burglar who could not – in fact – burgle ponies to freedom.

"I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley," Gandalf had suggested as they investigated the burnt ruins.

Thorin was instantly annoyed, and said, "I have told you already: I will not go near that place."

Somehow thinking this would persuade him, Gandalf continued with, "Why not? The Elves could help us – we could get food, rest, advice."

"I do not need their advice," Thorin retorted. Why would he even put forth such an idea, knowing full well what kind of history they had with those unreliable fae?

"We have a map that we cannot read," the other said. "Lord Elrond could help us."

That truly did rub Thorin the wrong way.

"Help? A dragon attacks Erebor; what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls; the Elves looked on and did nothing. You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather… Who betrayed my father…" Thorin fumed, knowing his mind was more than made up. "Miss Hollander will provide information on the map soon enough, so there is no need for the likes of Elves to be involved. Her Iglishmêk improves every day. It will not be long."

"You are neither your father nor grandfather, and while I have no doubt she is improving, Miss Hollander cannot provide extra supplies or proper shelter for recuperation before we cross the Misty Mountains," Gandalf insisted. "Thorin… I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past."

"I did not know that they were yours to keep," the King snapped.

Gandalf raised his eyes away, ruffled by that point. He huffed, "Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves," and made his way out of the burnt farmhouse. Eventually – after a brief questioning from a panicked Halfling – he was out of sight. Good riddance.

Well, good riddance until much, much later, when Thorin would actually be glad to see the Grey Wizard. Until then, he just had to survive with the rest of his comrades, stuck in a humiliating situation.

Thorin had suffered quite a few indignities in his life, but this? This was a whole new level of disgrace. He would have even preferred more hot stew spilled on him instead of being trussed up in a burlap sack, having to watch half the Company be roasted on a spit by the Trolls who outwitted them.

That was the real kicker, though: they had been outwitted by Trolls. If it weren't for Gandalf's so-called burglar, then they could have already been out of there, ponies and all. Bringing that blasted Halfling had been a mistake, for all he knew how to do was fret, complain, and get caught by giant lumbering idiots.

Thorin was surprised Bofur and Miss Hollander had not sought them out yet, for as long as they'd been gone from camp. Since there was no telling where Gandalf disappeared to or when he'd be back, those two appeared to be their last hope. Not the most remarkable of odds, but Bofur had his fare share of wits, and Miss Hollander seemed to be a few notches above most of her kind in aptitude, so perhaps all was not lost. Maybe they were just busy formulating a plan of some sort.

"Wait! You are making… a terrible mistake!" the Hobbit suddenly proclaimed. He wriggled around until he was able to stand inside the cloth bag, hopping over to speak with their captors.

"You can't reason with 'em! They're halfwits!" Dori blurted from his position, tied up on the spit, making Thorin question their own intelligence if that was the case.

There was a pause as a few more Dwarves grumbled and wiggled, but Master Baggins continued. "I meant with the, uh… with the – with the seasoning," he said, nearly falling over as he hopped forward.

"What about the seasoning…?" one of the Trolls asked, leaning down to listen.

"Well, have you smelt them?" Master Baggins questioned. "You're going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up."

What in Mahal's name does he think he's doing? Was he trying to get them eaten? There were more protests from the Company, as expected. It wasn't exactly normal to go around, giving monsters advice on how best to cook your comrades, now was it?

"What do you know about cooking Dwarf?" demanded another Troll as it rotated the spit.

"Shut up," said the other, who had been speaking previously. "Let the, uh… flurgurburburhobbit talk."

The what?

"Ah, the secret to cooking Dwarf is, um – is uh…"

"Yes? Come on," the Troll urged. "Tell us the secret."

"Ye-yes, I'm telling you – the secret… The secret is…" Master Baggins trailed off, finally divulging, "To… skin them first!"

This was the absolute last time Thorin took suggestions from a Wizard concerning recruitments! While Gandalf may have been right about making camp at the burnt farmhouse (something the King was loathe to admit), he had terrible sense of what made a good Company member.

Since the Halfling was obviously of no help – quite the opposite at this moment – Thorin began wiggling and pushing around like others, desperate to find a weakness in the bags holding them. He wasn't sure what he thought it would accomplish since it hadn't worked so far, but it was better than laying here, waiting for death via demented Hobbit recipe.

One of the other Trolls began arguing, saying there was no sense in skinning them. They'd apparently eaten plenty of Dwarves with their skins on, a thought that left Thorin feeling nauseous, and so they picked out Bombur to prove a point. The usually quiet Ur brother was hefted up as he wriggled and whimpered, expecting to be devoured. Thorin watched in horror with the others, until…

"N-not – not that one! He – he's infected!" Master Baggins interrupted quickly.

"You what?" asked a Troll.

"Yeah, he's got worms in his… tubes," the Hobbit said with an odd pause, causing Bombur to be released and land right on top of Kili and Oín, who groaned under the weight. "In – in fact they all have. They're… infested with parasites. It's a terrible business. I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't," he continued.

What was he playing at? One second, he was trying to get them skinned and seasoned, and the next he was telling the Trolls not to eat them at all. That made no sense. Unless…

"Parasites? Did he say parasites?" Oín asked.

Kili scowled in betrayal, nodding to the medic then turning back to Bilbo to yell, "We don't have parasites! You have parasites!"

It was then that Thorin realized what had been happening the entire time, and they had just mistook it for treachery. The Dwarves beside him in the pile were flailing about, hurling insults to the one they thought was going to get them killed, and Thorin quickly jerked his leg, kicking the others to get them to understand as well.

There was a long, awkward pause as they went silent, staring at their King. Then the group was abruptly in agreeance with the Hobbit.

"…I've got parasites as big as my arm!" Oín finally said, catching on.

Kili followed that up with an overly dramatic, "Mine are the biggest parasites! I've got huge parasites!"

Soon, every Dwarf was describing their parasites. The Trolls seemed less enthusiastic about eating them after that, and there was hesitation as they turned the spit.

One of the gigantic creatures began circling the Hobbit with suspicion, asking, "What would you have us do then? Let 'em all go?"

"Well…" Master Baggins tried to initiate with a casual air.

"You think I don't know what you're up to?" the Troll interrupted, jabbing a massive finger against their burglar's chest, then walking back to help with cooking. "This little ferret – he's taking us for fools!"

The Halfling seemed quite offended. "Ferret?"

"Fools?" another Troll asked.

"THE DAWN WILL TAKE YOU ALL!" a booming voice declared.

Everyone in the clearing looked up to see none other than Gandalf the Grey, standing on top of a colossal boulder, staff in hand. His silhouette seemed much more imposing with the way he had positioned himself against the faint sunrise, probably on purpose to achieve such an effect.

In quick succession, the Trolls spoke with each other while staring at the newcomer.

"Who's that?"

"No idea."

"Can we eat him too?"

Suddenly, Gandalf grabbed his staff with both hands, slamming the end into the boulder he stood on. A loud 'crack' sounded as the boulder split, a rumble following as the broken half fell to the ground. Blinding sunlight immediately poured through the newly made gap.

The Trolls threw up their arms to protect their faces against the light, but it was no use. They groaned and hissed and writhed as their skin began crackling, hardening into stone, and within mere moments, all was still. The Trolls were simply statues. No longer a threat, no longer a danger to the Company or the quest. No longer gearing up to eat anyone. The others cheered in relief. It seemed perfect.

Gandalf picked his way down from the boulder nonchalantly, like he hadn't just saved all of their lives. The Wizard approached the pile of Dwarves on the ground, untying the bags that held them, so they could go help the others down from the spit. Once Thorin slipped out of his own burlap sack, he assisted in putting out the fire beneath their companions before cutting the ropes, causing the other half of the Company to drop from the wooden structure and roll away, one by one. Their moaning and groaning was a welcome sound compared to what could have happened.

The group that had been tied to the spit began redressing, and Thorin looked for his coat briefly before remembering it was back at camp, where he left it after the stew incident. That thought also reminded him of the two absent Company members as well.

There was an odd feeling nagging at Thorin, as he thought about how much time had passed. Even if the idea had not crossed Miss Hollander's mind (which he doubted, considering her own blatant paranoia), then surely Bofur would have come searching before this point? The Miner's brother and cousin were with them, after all, so it would be hard to imagine him not being the slightest bit concerned.

Thorin turned, looking for anyone who was dressed and ready. "Dori, Bifur, Bombur," he called, knowing the latter two would be eager to reunite with their middle of kin. The three addressed glanced up, as he continued, "Head back to camp, retrieve Bofur and Miss Hollander, as well as the map and our supplies."

They nodded, Bifur giving a short grunt and Dori an, "Aye, will do," before they darted off.

Satisfied, Thorin located Gandalf, who bonked one of the Troll statues on the forehead with his staff in a tiny declaration of victory. The gesture was purely for himself, of course, but there was no trouble in that.

"Where did you go to, if I may ask?" Thorin questioned, walking towards the Wizard.

"To look ahead," Gandalf replied casually.

Thorin then felt the need to ask, after such a vague statement, "What brought you back?"

Slightly smug, Gandalf said with a wry smile, "Looking behind." Thorin gave a small nod to that clever retort, and the Wizard resumed, saying, "Nasty business. Still – you're all in one piece."

"No thanks to your burglar," Thorin responded, a little irritated. Had it not been for the Halfling getting caught, they wouldn't have had to worry about staying in one piece in the first place.

Meeting his gaze with a less amused and more knowing expression, Gandalf stilled. "He had the nous to play for time… None of the rest of you thought of that," he said with a critical tone.

Thorin was – once again – left with nothing to say. He knew the other was right. While the idea left a bad taste in the King's mouth, perhaps Master Baggins was not as useless as he first thought.

Still a pain in the rear though.

"They must have come down from the Ettenmoors," Gandalf said absently as he stared at the Trolls.

"Since when do Mountain Trolls venture this far South?" asked Thorin, unsure of what would possibly cause such creatures to travel so.

It was then that Gandalf became quieter, his response not reassuring in the least. "Oh, not for an Age… Not since a darker power ruled these lands…" he said lowly, causing an unnerving air to surface as they shared a look. When they finally broke eye contact, Gandalf glanced up in contemplation, staring around at the new morning. "They could not have moved in daylight."

Thorin glanced around as well, realizing, "There must be a cave nearby."

Gandalf nodded in agreement. "Yes, I would say so."

The others had finished righting themselves long ago, now properly dressed and ready to head out, so Thorin made his way over and informed them of what they would be looking for. He told them there was no telling what a Troll hoard might possess and, of course, most of them were keen on the idea of investigating.

"This way," Thorin announced, after having peered around the clearing. The trees in this particular direction seemed more disturbed than the other routes, and they began their trek forward, until a familiar voice sounded.

"Thorin! Wait!"

They turned to see Dori jogging through the forest towards them. The panic in his voice was worrisome enough, but then they saw the Ur family close behind him. Bifur and Bombur were carefully keeping pace on either side of Bofur, who was trying to run as well, but stumbled several times along the way. His lack of balance was reminiscent of one who was either highly intoxicated, or one who had been forced from a very deep slumber.

All of that wasn't what caught Thorin's attention, though. Bofur had obviously been in a fight – his bottom lip had been split, there was a bruise formed on his cheek from a punch he must have taken a while ago, and his clothing was disheveled and covered in soot. The Company had been captured by Trolls and they didn't even look this bad.

Something had gone horribly wrong. The entire troupe knew it, and there was only one person missing.

"They've got her! Those bastards from Bree – they took her!" Bofur exclaimed as he tripped to a stop in front of them, catching his breath.

Thorin felt his stomach drop.

"What? What do you mean?" Kili asked in dismay, stepping forward. There were several, similar comments of disbelief and confusion ("Who from Bree?" "When?" "How?"), but they were all went silent when their King spoke up.

"Bofur, tell us what happened," Thorin demanded. He knew their concern would override reason if he did not intervene, though the pulse in his own ears was making itself known.

"We were about to come lookin' for you when they jumped us," Bofur explained, fighting to control his alarm, glancing about the clearing for the first time and doing a double-take at the Troll statues before continuing. "They – They said they were after some sort of bounty on ya, Thorin. Don't have the slightest what they meant, but we fought 'em as best we could. Then those rats – they put a knife to her throat and I couldn't do anything, you see, and they took her! Knocked me for a loop and then left, and next thing I know, Bombur here is shakin' me awake and it's broad daylight!"

"Bounty? There's not a bounty on Thorin," Fili said in bewilderment, stepping up beside his brother.

Thorin did not look behind him to face his nephews, and somehow he knew Gandalf was staring him down with a judgmental gaze. There were very few who Thorin had informed of the bounty, so when that statement was met with silence, the two princes were shocked.

"Uncle…?" came Kili's stunned murmur.

Fili was in a similar state of distress, asking, "So there is a bounty on you?"

"We will speak of this later, Fili – " Thorin said, finally turning to meet the gaze of the eldest. There was a look of betrayal in those blue eyes, and he wished there was more time to explain, but it had to wait. Knowing they would need range in case the situation went poorly, he caught eyes with the youngest, adding, "Kili – come with me. Your aim is sharp, but I need you to be focused."

For once, Kili did not argue the point, his fast friendship with Miss Hollander the only thing stopping him. Time was of the essence. Though he was sorely disappointed to have been left out of such information, he pulled out his bow with a curt nod.

"Dwalin," Thorin said, and the addressed didn't need any more than that before he stepped up as well, ready to set off. They had both long since retrieved their weapons from the pile, Thorin wielding his Dwarven sword, Deathless, and Dwalin his trusty axes, Grasper and Keeper.

Too many Dwarves and they would be heard approaching easily, another hostage situation inevitable in that case, but if – when – they managed to find their fifteenth member, the element of surprise was their best advantage to getting her out safe. There was also the remainder of the Company to think about. He did not wish to separate them too sparsely and leave them entirely unprotected after how this day was going so far.

Additionally, even though it was a slim chance, there was the possibility Miss Hollander had escaped the Men. She had done it once before, after all. Moreover, in the panic over their missing friend, the Ur family had not gathered any of their gear, so Thorin turned to them and directed, "I need you to head back to camp and pack our supplies as originally intended –" Bofur opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off as the King continued. " – If Miss Hollander has managed to get away and return, someone should be there waiting. Ori, Dori, go with them. And whatever you do, do not forget the map."

Ori nodded rapidly, making a few steps in that direction, hesitating when his brother and the Ur family did not follow. Why were they not moving?

"The rest of you, come with me. We are going to investigate the Troll hoard," Gandalf suddenly spoke up. Thorin did not like the abrupt intrusion into his authority, but that was likely the best course of action. The Wizard's half of the group, including a very troubled looking Fili, headed away at that statement.

The small cluster that remained seemed tense in a different way, somehow.

Bofur hesitantly began, "Er… about the map –"

He was cut off by a shrill, sharp sound ringing out, somewhere in the forest. They recognized it immediately.

A whistle.

"The map is drying on the crate," Thorin answered quickly, sure that the other simply didn't remember where it had been left.

Thorin exchanged glances with Dwalin and Kili, and they all darted towards the noise right away. Though the sound was hard to pinpoint, it helped them get an idea of her location as it continued trilling through the forest with an intensity that only meant desperation. They passed thickets and bounded over gnarled tree roots, searching for any sign of the noise's source or indication that someone had come this way.

Abruptly, the whistling cut off. Not tapering from shortness of breath, but as though it had been interrupted.

As they ran, Thorin caught a look at Kili's face. The young prince was visibly troubled by the sudden silence, brows furrowing together in distress and the grip on his bow tightening as he sped up. The King's nephews had truly come to care for Miss Hollander in the past month.

In fact, most of the Company had, in some shape or form.

The Ur family, Fili and Kili, Master Baggins (though Thorin did not honestly count him as part of their group just yet, he had signed a contract). More recently, the Ri family, as her interactions with Ori gained the approval of his elder brothers. Oín, ever the caretaker, was always keeping an eye on her, and Balin too after they began spending time together for Iglishmêk lessons. She had even managed to make Dwalin laugh outright once – even if that was just because she'd lost her pants on a shrub.

Thorin, though, was still not sure where Miss Hollander stood with him, but that did not mean she deserved this; being kidnapped by two Men who only knew greed for a bounty. A bounty on himself, no less.

Not far off their current course, the shriek of a male echoed through the trees, startling them a great deal. It only lasted for a split second, but it allowed the Dwarves to adjust their direction hurriedly, a second scream following, even closer than the last. However, it was certainly not the scream of someone attacked by anything human, and it sent a feeling of dread through Thorin.

When the screams began slowly dying out, they could hear another sound buried beneath. It was a low sporadic noise, almost a vibration, and the three rounded a cluster of trees just in time for a gruesome scene to line up in their sights. As the shrieking stopped altogether, they realized the low noise had been a growl.

Several yards away, too far for them to reach in any amount of time, was a Warg. Standing over the lanky, mauled corpse of a Man, the beast was snarling down with red painted jaws at something beneath the dead body.

No, not something – someone.

Lying there, covered in blood, was none other than Miss Hollander. On her back under the familiar Man with her arms bound behind her, the girl was unmoving, and for one disheartening second, Thorin thought they were too late.

This did not stop Kili from nocking an arrow with a swiftness that would put any archer to shame, firing as soon as he saw the creature. His aim was true, landing his shot squarely in the head of the Warg, and they watched it crumble to the ground beside the girl.

Immediately, Kili was darting forward, calling out frantically for any response, "Jenna!"

Thorin followed with Dwalin next to him and as they neared the girl, they were finally close enough to see the faint shudders wracking her frame, realizing with relief that she was alive. Trembling, gasping for breath, staring straight forward, she had no reaction to their presence, but she was still very much alive. Kili helped Dwalin shove the corpse off of her as Thorin pulled her away from the small pile of death, having to physically sit her shaking form upright himself to get to the ropes.

Kili handed over one of his small daggers, asking, "Is she alright? What… What's wrong with her? Is she hurt?"

As Thorin kneeled down beside her and cut the ropes, he took a quick look at the bloody patches on her, not seeing any sign of an open wound. He shook his head at them briefly before turning back.

Dwalin responded for him, with a glance at all the blood, "No, don't look like any of that's hers. She's just in shock, lad."

"Miss Hollander?" Thorin attempted, as the girl's arms were freed and she winced, still not meeting any of their eyes. She was too pale, making the blood splattered across her skin look all the more obvious, and her breathing had not slowed. She was still in a panic.

Her soft hands found his, grabbing onto him for dear life as he put his other hand beneath her elbow to balance her. Blinking rapidly, she was trying to focus as best she could, he knew, trying to regain control of herself, but they did not have time. Where there was one Warg, there was certain to be another, and that would only be followed by worse things still. Thorin did not want to think on why there was a Warg here in the first place.

"Miss Hollander," he said again, a little more firm this go. Her breathing was not quite so harsh, slowly returning to a regular rhythm. The way her wide green eyes refused to focus was a problem though. He scowled when he noticed the leftover tears lingering there and the streaks down her face from a previous bout of crying.

There was a howl in the distance, eerie and foreboding.

"Jenna," Thorin finally tried lowly, the name unfamiliar on his tongue.

However, that was what did it. The young woman's brows twitched as though she was confused about the usage of her first name which, to be fair, he'd never had cause to use before now. Her stare became a little less fuzzy as she recognized there to be someone in front of her. It took her a long moment, gaze travelling upward from his chest at a snail's pace, before at last she met his eyes.

Another howl tore through the air.

"We must go, now. Are you able to stand?" Thorin asked. Under any other circumstance he would simply ask if she was alright, but that was most certainly a loaded question at this point.

Jenna's… Miss Hollander's mouth was open just slightly as she gave the smallest nod, like she was not actually certain. Her willingness to try all the same was reassuring.

Kili spotted something on the ground and quietly stepped over, plucking the item from the grass. Thorin glanced over and saw it was the whistle engraved with Birâthûna, the leather cord having been snapped. Meeting his nephew's gaze, they realized just how lucky – how exceedingly lucky – she was to have blown the whistle while they were free to help her.

Shifting uneasily with the sounds of activity in the forest, Dwalin said, in reference to the corpse a few feet away, "We'd best get a move on if we don't want to wind up like him."

Thorin couldn't have agreed more, standing and helping Miss Hollander do so as well. He kept a solid grip on her hand, readjusting his other hand to her upper arm once they were on their feet. She wobbled a bit and clenched her teeth, inhaling though them sharply when he did so. He understood that was her injured arm and immediately removed his hand, wondering briefly why it would be sore again, and then realizing that was an idiotic question.

Finally taking a good look at her, Thorin knew these Men had not been gentle. Of course her wound had opened again, the way they'd restrained her, and she had taken quite a few hits the same way that Bofur had. She was not made as sturdy as a Dwarf, however, so such blows left much more telling marks on her round cheeks. The sight caused a flicker of anger to spring up. Women were never to be treated in such a manner, but the race of Men always found a way to sicken him.

This loathing had to be put aside, though, as a rustling in the bushes caught his attention. Miss Hollander's hand still in his, he pulled her behind him before finally letting go to draw his sword. Another Warg burst through into the clearing, snapping and snarling, but before it had a chance to do any damage, Dwalin had an axe buried in its throat.

"Quickly," Thorin said as he began to sprint, trusting that Miss Hollander was steady enough now to move on her own.

He heard Kili return the whistle to the girl before they followed. Making their way back to the Company was much less of a hassle, but this did not mean they were at ease. They could not be, after seeing those beasts, and Thorin knew it was only a matter of time before Orcs discovered their location. Why now, though? Why would an Orc Pack be so close, even bothering to send out scouts beforehand? It was a tactical move, not one born of a simple urge to raid the camp of some travelers. Did this, too, have to do with the bounty?

As Thorin, Kili, Dwalin, and Miss Hollander rejoined with their companions, there were mixed reactions. Thorin did not have time to spare with watching the reunion between the concerned Ur family and their Birâthûna, however, instead heading straight for Balin.

He spotted a strange man speaking with Gandalf, and needed to make sure there was no threat before informing them of the other, more pressing matters. As Thorin's coat was returned and he questioned the newcomer's presence, Balin told them his name was Radagast The Brown, and there was a flicker of recognition. Gandalf had mentioned him two or three days prior, had he not? Either way, Radagast did not seem to be a threat, so Thorin knew they must move on.

They hastily informed the Company of the danger that approached, receiving a range of responses that varied from gasps, groans, and one panicked, "Orc pack?!" from the Halfling. Of course he would be the first one sent into fits. Even Miss Hollander was not reacting in such a… Well. Another glance at the girl revealed not much of an expression at all, in fact, which was odd for her normally readable face. Thorin knew her stoicism would not last long, having seen this reaction from others in the face of violence, but he hoped she would keep it together until they found safety.

Of course, that was when Gandalf delivered the lovely news: That they were being hunted.

Whether he wanted to hear it or not, this simply supported Thorin's earlier thoughts on the matter. He knew the attack was not random, he knew the Wargs were searching with purpose, and he knew the Company was in grave danger.

None of them were thrilled with the idea of Wargs and Orcs waiting for them in the woods somewhere, especially considering they were now on foot, with no ponies. Thankfully – by some magnificent stroke of luck – the newest Wizard volunteered as a diversion, using a rabbit-drawn sled, no less. Either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish, though they would quickly learn which.

Before they set off, Gandalf approached Thorin and offered up a rather impressive blade. The King was obviously wary, because one did not simply give away a sword of this quality, and besides that, how did it come to be in a Troll hoard? When he was informed of its Elvish origins, Thorin was even less interested in wielding the thing, no matter what Age it was forged in.

"You could not wish for a finer blade," Gandalf had insisted.

Thorin spotted another sword at the Wizard's own hip, obviously made in Gondolin and found in the hoard as well, since there had been no sign of the weapon previously. He also had not missed the sight of a new blade on Master Baggins, and if Gandalf was willing to arm not only himself, but his precious Hobbit with one too, then maybe it would be worth a go. The way things were headed, a chance to test the smoothly curved blade would come all too soon.

Thorin readied himself as the Company stopped at the edge of the forest, awaiting the signal, and caught sight of Balin nearby. A thought sprang to mind.

"The map was retrieved?" Thorin asked in a hushed tone.

Balin met his eyes for a moment, glancing away with lips in a grim line. "Well… Yes and no," he slowly answered with unusual hesitance.

Thorin stared at him, bewildered by such a vague, foreboding response, and immediately began to ask, "What do you mean–"

Howling interrupted. Too many howls to be anything other than that Wizard setting them off.

Then they were running. For better or worse, they left the cover of the forest and delved into the wide open air, Thorin's senses going on high alert. His Company was at the mercy of the terrain and a Wizard with questionable sanity.

Despite this, they managed to maneuver over the hills and past the ever-changing position of the Orc pack. They used the topography to their advantage, Thorin keeping an eye on his party to ensure nobody lost their footing or alerted the enemies on accident. Ori came very close, however, almost darting out into sight of the creatures, but was wrenched back just in time. It made Thorin very glad to have the quick reflexes he had trained so hard for.

The group had a close encounter when an Orc broke off from the pack, and though Kili was able to bring the Warg crashing down beside them before its rider sounded any alarms, the tussle that followed created more noise than they would have liked. Thorin tested his new sword by silencing the Orc, and was reluctantly impressed by how well the blade handled. It was lighter, cutting through the air faster than anything he was used to wielding, and though he held no love for Elves, he suddenly decided he could not say the same for their weapons.

Thorin did not dwell on this for too long, seeing as they were immediately on the move again. Their fight had garnered the attention of every Orc and Warg in the area, and Gandalf was leading them Aulë knew where, though Thorin had a sneaking suspicion, given their general location. He did not know how, for certain, since there was no sign of an entrance or a trail, but he had an idea where they were headed.

Or, so he thought.

Gandalf led them into the middle of the fray and then disappeared, leaving them encircled by the approaching Warg riders. Dwalin yelled out that the Wizard had abandoned them, and though Thorin grew enraged at the thought, he had to agree. Never trust a Wizard.

This was it. They had survived almost being eaten by Trolls, and now they had to survive the threat of being eaten by Wargs.

Thorin caught sight of Fili sending Jenna to the center for safety, or as much safety they would be able to provide, considering the situation. He didn't remember to mentally correct to Miss Hollander at that moment. There were more pressing issues to worry about.

Gandalf chose then, immediately after Thorin had called for them to hold their ground, to appear between a formation of rocks in front of one massive boulder, yelling, "This way, you fools!"

The Company had all the motivation they needed to follow that order. After a tense few moments, waiting for each member of the group to slide down into the hidden cave, it was only Thorin and Kili left. The King did not follow until his nephew drew near enough and they leapt in together, listening at the bottom of the slope as horns sounded off with hoofbeats. The noises were not from their pursuers, though. When the body of a newly slain Orc tumbled down and nearly landed on top of them, Thorin plucked an arrow from the throat of the creature, confirming his suspicions as to their location. Elf territory.

"I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it, of course!"

Thorin did not like the way Gandalf mumbled, "I think that would be wise," but chose to ignore it for the time being, heading the direction the others had gone.

The cave turned into a tunnel, and then shifted into more of a gap between two walls of stone as the earth above them disappeared, allowing faint sunlight to filter down. The fissure widened out enough for Thorin to pull Balin aside before they came to the end, something quite dire to their quest still nagging at his mind. Other Company members passed by with curious glances, but kept going all the same.

"What did you mean, 'yes and no'?" Thorin questioned, not even needing to restate what he was referring to.

There was that hesitance again when their eyes met. Highly unusual for the Dwarf, given that they had known each other for as long as Thorin could remember, so of course he braced for the horrendous news.

"Fate has a funny way of showing its hand, I think," said Balin with a nod, garnering no reaction from the other, and so sighed. He glanced over, in the direction the rest of the Company had gone. "You'll be wanting to ask Bofur about the map, lad. Though… I don't believe I saw him pass by just yet," he continued, turning to look back down the way they had come from.

Voices echoed slightly from within the cave, and Thorin recognized the sound of Bofur and Master Baggins. The former's tone shifted suddenly, turning soft, and they were unable to distinguish any words from the way it reverberated in the fissure.

From the opposite direction came the last thing Thorin wanted to hear.

"The Valley of Imladris. In the Common Tongue, it's known by another name."

He shared a look of intense loathing with Balin, who simply closed his eyes and took a deep breath, choosing not to acknowledge that little announcement. Thorin passed off his battle ax to Balin before turning away, heading back to the cave instead of going to deal with the Wizard's irritating love of Elves. That would be a problem for a later time, he decided, prioritizing the map and the quest itself.

As Thorin made his way through the tunnel again, more soft noises reached him. A rapid snuffling, like shaky, shallow breaths of distress. He realized as he rounded the corner that he had not seen Jenna pass by either, and was greeted by the sight of Bofur and Master Baggins crouched down on either side of her, the Miner making statements of comfort as he patted her back.

The girl herself, though… Somehow she had managed to keep her head just long enough, as he had hoped, but only just. Now that they were safe, she had fallen apart. On her knees, sobbing into her hands as she curled over into a ball, Jenna was shaking like a leaf. It was no wonder, really. She had no experience with the true brutality of the world, as every one of them knew when first they laid eyes upon her. No matter how many times he saw it, the dismantling of one's rosy outlook on the security of life was a depressing sight.

Thorin reminded himself why he came back in the first place, purposefully making his last few steps shuffle against the ground a little more as he stopped a few feet away from the trio. Bofur and the Halfling glanced up at the sound.

"Bofur," Thorin said, a little softer than he meant to. "I must speak with you."

The hatted-Dwarf looked back to their female companion, who had made no motion upon Thorin's arrival, before patting her one more time and standing. Master Baggins watched the proceedings curiously from his position on the ground, awkwardly and hesitantly taking over the job of rubbing their friend's back.

"Aye? What was it that ye needed?" Bofur asked in a hushed tone, though the other two could still obviously hear him. Perhaps it wasn't for secrecy, though, and more for respect of the girl's current sensitivity.

"It concerns the map," Thorin said. "Balin told me you were the one I should ask."

The usually joyful dwarrow was very serious, holding the same expression that Balin had. He opened his mouth once, then closed it, then finally opened it again. "Ye won't like it," he cautioned.

Thorin stared him down for a long minute, not influenced by the statement.

With pursed lips and a glance away, Bofur sighed through his nose, reaching into his coat to pull out a small fragment of paper.

Thorin's eyes widened as he took the offered sheet, realizing just what it was. Or rather, what it used to be.

All that remained of the map was a triangular section from the top left. Half of the Lonely Mountain, the pointing hand, and part of the column of runes beneath had made it, though the charring that curved around the edges cut the words short. There was a slight orange tint to the whole thing, and it was obvious the only reason this part survived was because it had been the most saturated with stew.

Thorin finally dragged his eyes away from the remaining segment to meet Bofur's gaze.

"I don't know how it happened," said Bofur dismally. "It must've done after they knocked me out. I tried to tell ye before you left to go find her, but…"

But Thorin, Kili, and Dwalin had to rescue the girl before it had been too late – the girl sent from another world by the Valar themselves, the girl who was now the only full remaining copy of Thror's map. The girl who, at this time, quite literally held their quest on her shoulder.

It all struck Thorin at once as he looked over to the young woman, her sobs having subsided enough for her to focus on them. Her now puffy, red eyes were wide when she spotted the map segment, staring at it in shock much as he had done. Their only hope of entering the Lonely Mountain had been a hair's breadth away from a Warg's jaws not long ago, and that was a truly terrifying realization.

Once it sunk in, Thorin wound up grinding his teeth and took a few steps past Bofur, further into the cave, before turning to pause in front of Jenna and the Halfling. He was not sure how to feel about this whole mess.

On one hand, he was angry. No – he was beyond angry. His grandfather's map, the secret of the hidden entrance to Erebor, the original lifeline of this entire mission that had been entrusted to him, had gone up in flames. Thorin wanted to demand answers, wanted to know what insane circumstance could have caused this. He wanted to know if the Men were to blame or if the girl's clumsiness was the culprit.

On the other hand, though… Thorin knew he could not let his temper fly wild. Jenna was already in such a state, distressing her at this time would almost certainly set them back to square one, back to her jumpy, uncomfortable interactions with him. Even now, in that small cave, she had finally pulled her eyes away from the map to meet his gaze, waiting with such a look of vulnerability that he knew. How he handled this would dictate everything that followed.

Eventually, he broke eye contact, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply. The fragile bridge they were building could not collapse yet. Not when he was so close to answers.

"Bilbo? Thorin?" came the voice of Gandalf as he wandered back down their way. "Miss Hollander? Bofur?"

Oddly enough, Master Baggins replied before any of them, clearing his throat and saying, "Yes, Gandalf. We're still here."

The Wizard rounded the corner and glanced between each of them, a look of concern sprouting. "Is everything quite alright?"

"Does this look alright to you?" Thorin asked as he held up the piece of the map.

Gandalf's eyebrows rose slightly as he glanced at it, but then he casually answered, "Well, it certainly is upsetting, but fortunately for you, we have another."

A scowl ran across Thorin's face when Gandalf's attention moved to Jenna. The girl appeared less panicked and more exhausted now, though her eyes were still large, the tiny lines beneath her lower lids prominent.

"Regardless – I want to know what happened," Thorin said firmly, meeting her stare. "Do you know, Miss Hollander?"

She gave a few nods that were so small, one wouldn't see them if they hadn't been watching carefully. Her green eyes dropped to the vicinity of his boots as she brought her shaking hands up to sign, stopping and starting several times when her hands wouldn't cooperate. She began blinking rapidly midway, eyes wet again as she scowled and her mouth scrunched up, a few tears escaping despite her efforts to stop crying.

From beside Thorin came the nuances of Khuzdul.

"I don't think she can do this right now, Thorin," said Bofur, not impolite, but as one simply stating a fact. "The lass can't even stop trembling enough to form a single word."

Thorin, of course, knew the Miner was right, though replied irritably in the same tongue, "I am well aware, but in case it has escaped your notice, this map is the only reason our quest has a chance."

"Aye, and there still is a chance – it's sitting right there, bawling its eyes out,"Bofur persisted.

This caused Thorin to pause for a moment, returning to his previous thoughts of setting back their progress. Exercising patience was… annoying.

Before he could reply, a familiar horn sounded from the direction of the tunnel where the rest of the Company was awaiting them. It was the same horn, of course, that signaled Elves.

"Oh dear," Gandalf muttered, turning to face the noise. "We should move along before they send someone to retrieve us. No doubt they've noticed several Dwarves standing on their cliff side."

Master Baggins stood up and grabbed his walking stick that had been set aside before holding out a hand for Jenna. Of course, he nearly fell over with the effort of helping her up, seeing as how she was not only heavier than him but also very unsteady at the moment. In the end, though, they were both on their feet.

"Where are we going, did you say?" asked the Hobbit, seeming to sense the topic of Elves.

Gandalf had a bit of a smile going as he said while walking away, "Someplace you've read about many times, my dear Bilbo, I'm sure. Come and see for yourself. It will be quite –"

"No. We will not seek refuge with our enemy," Thorin interrupted at once, making the Wizard stop and turn back to face him slowly.

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf said resolutely, gesturing down the tunnel with his staff. "The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

"You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing?" ground out Thorin, tone low. "They will try to stop us."

"Of course they will; but we have questions that need to be answered," the Istari continued.

"Our questions will be answered – and not by them," said Thorin.

Gandalf huffed, "Regardless of that matter, we are still in need of food and rest."

"We have made due with less. I will not rely on the so-called goodwill of Elves for… "

There was a long, noisy, shuddering sigh from across the cave, causing the arguing parties to glance over and trail off. Their only female was already walking towards the tunnel, scrubbing her sleeves over her face to clear her vision of tears. Or scrubbing them over her face in frustration. Or both.

"Miss Hollander," Thorin cautioned.

It was both. Jenna stopped right before the turn, waiting a long moment before looking back his way. Her expression was one of concentration and internal debate, but it did not seem like a choice of whether to stay or leave. It was something else, though he couldn't pinpoint what. After a few seconds, abruptly, her face fell as though she had been slapped and she turned away without warning, disappearing around the corner.

Thorin stared at the spot where she had been, utterly confused by her reaction. What in Mahal's name had he done now?

"Well then, I suppose we must follow the map, wouldn't you say?" Gandalf stated with much too smug a manner.

Bofur and Master Baggins were glancing between the two, inching towards the tunnel. When Gandalf turned and left, the Hobbit stopped inching and just hurried after him, leaving only a pair of Dwarves.

Thorin did not want to rely on Elves for anything, whatsoever. The thought of staying in Rivendell for even a few hours, let alone a few days, made him start grinding his teeth again. However, they were in desperate need of a respite after that fiasco and they would most assuredly need more provisions, especially with the ponies gone. Travel would be slower, and they would use more of their supplies quicker due to that delay.

On top of that, after the look Jenna gave, he did not imagine she would change her direction easily. Short of bodily dragging away the already traumatized woman, he did not see how else to bring the map along.

Gandalf was right, again, and Thorin hated it.

"Er… Should we…?" Bofur began, but the King was already walking after the others with a resigned glare. "Right."


Thorin was not overly fond of Rivendell.

From the very moment they stepped down from the pathway on the mountainside, there was a tension within the group. None of the Dwarves were looking forward to interacting with Elves in any fashion, and they were already on edge from their previous jaunt, so the additional stress was not welcome. It seemed the only ones who did not particularly care were Gandalf, Master Baggins, and to some degree, Jenna, though her lack of reaction was likely due to emotional fatigue.

The second horn they had heard, while in the cave, had been the arrival of one Lord Elrond. He seemed polite enough, greeting Gandalf with familiarity and a smile, the Company's involvement with the Wizard allowing them a similar welcome. Lord Elrond recognized Thorin Oakenshield for who he was, claiming to have known Thror during his rule in Erebor, but Thorin did not recall any tales of such acquaintanceship. Obviously it did not leave a large enough impression on his grandfather to warrant mention.

Their female member's condition, though, earned them a few looks of suspicion and distrust, which insulted Thorin immensely. However, Lord Elrond did not jump to conclusions and actually bothered to ask what happened, unlike a handful of the other Elves eyeballing them. Gandalf was quick to speak up, giving the briefest of explanations about the Men and the Wargs before Lord Elrond decided it would be a tale best told as they rest, and over a meal. The Company couldn't have agreed more.

They were all in need of a cleanup, though some more than others, and Gandalf made sure to inform their host of Jenna's muteness before arrangements were made. While a couple of the Dwarves were hesitant to separate from her after what had happened, it was obvious the girl was in desperate need of a bath and a change of clothes, the dried blood making portions of her short hair stand at odd angles. Jenna gave a wan smile to Bombur when he handed over her pack, but did not quite meet his gaze, or anyone's really, as she was guided away by two Elf maidens.

Shortly after, the Company was escorted by a different Elf, who went by the name of Lindir, to a spacious sitting area, available to "use as they saw fit". They were able to drop off their heavy gear and were given a small tour of sorts, showing them where the necessities and the baths were located, and then giving directions to where they would be dining. The majority of the Dwarves simply grumbled and occasionally snickered at whispered jokes about the frail architecture or the wispy lifestyle.

While it was not the mountains they were so used to living in, it was still much safer than what awaited outside of the valley. Despite this relative security and the promise of food, there was still an unusual quietness to the group as they washed and sorted themselves out, and Thorin realized their more lively members were slightly subdued. He spoke with Bofur briefly again about that morning's events, but Fili's and Kili's lack of enthusiasm stuck out to him the most, for obvious reasons.

The two princes, on top of being concerned about their friend, were also still not pleased with their uncle's secrecy.

"Why did you not tell us of the bounty?" Fili asked quietly, as they were preparing to head to dinner.

Thorin picked up his fur-lined coat before deciding against it, setting it back down with a heavy sigh, replying, "You did not need to know."

"We didn't need to know that our uncle has a target painted on his back?" Kili joined in, a bit louder, and then adjusted his volume with a quick glance at the others who were pretending not to hear. "Since when is that something we would not need to know?"

"Worrying you needlessly would not have achieved anything," Thorin answered in what was supposed to be a calming tone.

It did the opposite, in fact, their faces becoming more troubled as Kili said, "Needlessly? It was not a needless worry, or Jenna would not have been kidnapped."

Thorin scowled at that, understanding where they were coming from, but seeing flaws regardless. "Knowing would not have stopped those Men from tracking us down," he explained. "We would still have been followed, and they would still have acted upon our absence, whether I had told you of the bounty or not."

Kili stared at him for a long moment before turning to lock eyes with Fili. The brunette's face seemed to soften a bit with some unspoken communication, eyes falling slightly, and he exhaled in a rush through his nose, knowing their uncle was right. Fili's own frown slowly deteriorated into a different sort of grimace.

"She will be alright though, won't she?" Fili questioned gently.

Thorin gave a small dip of his chin once, a tentative nod. "There were no signs of serious injury and she was able to run without issue, so yes. I believe so."

"That's not what I mean," the blonde said in a hushed tone.

There was a lengthy silence between the three of them, Thorin glancing away. "Of that, I am not certain," he finally answered. It depended upon the girl herself, he supposed, and how she would cope with not only a near death experience, but also the exposure to violence. It was asking… a bit much, for one such as her.

Though their concerns were not assuaged by the vague response, the tension lessened slightly as supper rolled around. The entire Company was starving beyond measure as they had not been able to eat since the previous night, some of them having gone even longer due to the Troll interruption. There was nothing quite like a hardy meal after a day of running for your life. Yet, that evening's fare was not exactly what one would call 'hardy'. Thorin had quite forgotten that Elves did not eat meat, for whatever reason he could not fathom.

Gandalf rejoined as they arrived at a large balcony, speaking with Lord Elrond once more and making a clever quip about not being dressed for dinner. The Elves had set up a small dining area for them on this large terrace, consisting of coffee tables that held an assortment of vegetables and fruits, and tall round cushions for their seating. Of course, being the leader, Thorin was invited to dine with Gandalf and Lord Elrond at their own round, wooden table.

The Dwarf King gave the scene a casual quick sweep as they sat down, not seeing any sign of Jenna… He paused at this thought, unable to recall making that mental switch. No sign of Miss Hollander then.

"Do not worry so. I am told the lady will be here momentarily," said Lord Elrond with a slight upturn of the lips. Not enough to be smug, but enough to show certainty in his words.

Thorin glanced at the Elf, somewhat irritated that he could tell what he was looking for, though he was not worried per say. There was a pause before Lord Elrond's attention shifted, focusing on something beyond, just past the dining Company.

"Ah, here she is," Lord Elrond observed.

To say Miss Hollander looked better after having a bath would be… an overstatement. Cleaner? Yes. Better? Thorin wasn't sure. Not due to any shortcoming of her own subtle beauty, but rather the circumstance of the first time they actually got to see her in traditional female clothing.

With the blood and grime gone, there was nothing to camouflage the blossoming bruise on her face, which was possibly the most disconcerting aspect. The powder blue dress chosen for her was ill-fitting, though there was likely no other option with the contrast between her figure and that of an Elf's, causing the garment to hug her middle and swamp all else. She kept readjusting to prevent the shoulders from slipping down where they were meant to settle. This gave off an air of discomfort, but the discretion was appreciated, given what lie on one of those arms.

Miss Hollander's arrival gave the Company pause as they took in the same things he had: Cleaner? Yes. Better? They were also not sure.

Her discomfort increased at the stares and she ducked her head, but Bofur was the first to break the silence, knowing their reaction was not helping matters. The cheerful Dwarf put on a happy face, greeting her like normal and waving her over to the table, causing the others to catch on and invite her with the same warmth. Miss Hollander tilted her head back up with a faint smile. She was avoiding eye with all of them though, only meeting looks for a split second before glancing away at other things.

Either way, his whole Company was accounted for, so Thorin returned his attention to their host and the Wizard who were having a brief catch-up. Gandalf brought up the subject of the blades found in the Troll hoard, asking Thorin to bring his forth and allow Lord Elrond to identify them. The curved sword was named Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver, apparently, and was passed back to Thorin with approval of its new ownership. That was certainly a pleasant surprise, as he quite liked how the weapon handled.

After discovering the name of the second sword – Glamdring, the Foe Hammer – Gandalf began speaking of their unfortunate encounter with the Orcs on the Great East Road. Of course, Lord Elrond then asked why they were on that trail in the first place, summoning a tension at the table. Thorin chose this moment to excuse himself from their chat, irritated with the Wizard for allowing that subject to already surface.

Instead, Thorin hovered near his comrades' tables with a flask in hand, observing. Since Miss Hollander's return, the mood seemed to lift slightly from its previous limbo, the most rambunctious of the Dwarves acting up again to bring a smile to her face.

For the most part, it was working. It was for Thorin, at any rate. Many complaints of the gentle flutes and sleepy harp string melodies persuaded Bofur to hop up on their table, using it to step over to a pedestal in the center of the balcony, and start belting out a much more lively song.

"There's an… Inn, There's an Inn,

There's a merry old Inn, beneath an old grey hill.

And there they brew a beer so brown

The Man in the Moon himself came down

One night to drink his fill!"

Tapping his foot to the tune, Thorin could not help but smile at the way his friends and kin began singing along, loudly and happily, causing a ruckus at the once peaceful dinner. They were relaxed enough to do so, and that was all that mattered to him. Plus, it was amusing to see the bafflement on the faces of the Elves.

"The ostler has a tipsy cat

That plays a five-stringed fiddle;

And up and down he saws his bow,

Now squeaking high, now purring low…

Now sawing in the middle!"

Soon, bits of lettuce and a myriad of chopped vegetables were flying through the air, tossed about with delight at the commotion brought on by the song. Kili chucked a pastry of some kind at the Elf that showed them their temporary quarters – Landor? Lendil? – and Thorin was torn between wanting to scold him for targeting a host, and wanting to scold him for missing said target.

In the midst of this chaos was Miss Hollander. She had gotten a few chuckles out of the whole thing, faint smiles here and there, but she was already back to that somber expression as she poked at her food. The plate had hardly been touched. While this was true for many of the plates (before their contents had been scattered, that is), Thorin did not believe it was for the same reason.

This assumption was furthered when the girl gave a few cautious glances around the table, smoothly standing from her seat to avoid notice. All attention was on Bofur as he continued with another verse anyway, so her retreat was hardly registered as she gathered the excess material of her skirt to keep it from dragging the ground, tiptoeing away with a lowered gaze.

Balin noticed as well, however, sharing a meaningful look with Thorin. They both knew someone must speak with her about what had happened, and the white-haired Dwarf sighed, preparing to stand from his seat to do just that.

Thorin took a few strides closer, making a subtle 'stay' gesture with his hand that the other caught just in time to stop from getting up. He capped his flask and stuck it back in his inner coat pocket, heading away down the steps in the direction he saw the girl go.

The sun had almost completed its descent, and so many Elves had already lit the evenly dispersed candelabras. While Rivendell was a veritable labyrinth of breezeways, forestry motif engravings, and decorative arches, Thorin had no trouble keeping Miss Hollander in his sights. That is, until he rounded a corner and did not see her in the hallway she should have been in.

He looked around a moment before realizing there was an archway off to the side, slightly darkened by the upcoming evening, which led to another small terrace. Thorin located one of the fragile lanterns nearby and realized, with some amount of irritation, that he could not reach it. Damn Elves… He instead settled for bringing back one of the taller candelabras from down the hall.

Sure enough, when he stepped outside, Miss Hollander was off to the right of the doorway. Sitting against the wall with her legs crisscrossed beneath her dress, the girl was resting her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands.

Thorin set the candelabra nearby, the clank of it against the stone floor making Miss Hollander jump and look towards the noise. Her eyes were watery again as she stared at him in confusion, scowling a little bit before turning her head away to wipe off her face, even though he had already plainly seen the tears.

He wondered if perhaps Balin should have come instead after all.

Deciding there was nothing else for it, as he was already here, Thorin also took a seat against the wall, a little less than an arm's length away from the girl. Any further away and he would have been right in the doorway.

'Can I help you?' she signed curtly, frowning at his boot instead of meeting his eyes.

Thorin thought for a moment, wondering where to begin and how. This was not their usual, business-like interaction of questions and answers, leaving a giant gap in their experience conversing with one another. Only recently had there been any casual exchanges; if those could even qualify as exchanges, that is. So he settled for something simple, which covered his general concerns.

"What happened?"

This was apparently the wrong phrasing, as Miss Hollander's brows lowered further. She blinked rapidly a few times, lips tightening into a line, and stared straight ahead as she explained, 'Map was on the box, and the box got kicked. Map fell and –"

Ah, she thought…?

"No," he interrupted, causing her to stop with some amount of confusion. "What happened to you, Miss Hollander?"

She did meet his gaze then, finally. He could not help but feel a little offended at the blatant surprise that fluttered across her face, but then again, the map had been his main interest when last they saw each other, and the majority of their discussions revolved around it besides.

It was obvious when the question sunk in, that he was asking about her and not a sheet a paper, for Miss Hollander's eyes began shining and her face fell as she became restless. She crossed her arms first before bringing up one hand to cover her mouth, and then she ducked her head, using that free hand to encompass the upper half of her face. Of course, this did nothing to hide the harsh downward turn of her lips, the visibly gritted teeth, and the shaking of her shoulders as she hunched over.

Thorin did not need to hear the snuffles to know she was crying once again.

She shook her head without lifting it, though he did not think it was a response to anything in particular. It seemed it was just a general motion while she tried to collect herself and he sat there, wondering how to handle this situation. He thought of the many times he had soothed Fili and Kili, and Dís, when she was younger.

There was some debate on Thorin's part before he gradually laid a hand on her back and started making a gentle, circular motion. The gesture was vague and safe, and appeared to do its job.

Miss Hollander tensed up at first before realizing what he was doing, actually sobbing harder at the offered comfort. It took a long while, several minutes of crying perhaps, before most of it was out of her system and she was able to relax. Her shoulders dropped and the snuffles tapered off, accompanied by intermittent trembling, a deep sigh capping the entire thing. Eventually she sat up straighter, wiping at her face with the long silky sleeves of her dress.

Thorin let his hand fall away as the girl met his eyes, her green ones puffy and bloodshot again. He readjusted, bringing up a knee to rest his arm on, as she gave a flimsy smile and self-depreciative eye roll while shaking her head.

'Sorry,' Miss Hollander timidly said.

It was his turn to give a slight head shake, saying, "There is no need to apologize."

A look of gratitude crossed her face briefly, before she gave another long sigh and gazed out at the balcony in front of them. While the candelabra was their main light source, the moon was quite bright on its own as well, and Thorin waited patiently until she was ready.

'We were to go find you, but the men attacked us,' she started simply. He knew this already from Bofur's account, but he decided to let her tell it how she wished. 'Gavin went after Bofur, Jean after me.'

"You knew their names?" Thorin asked, quirking a brow.

'Only because they say to each other when first I saw them,' Miss Hollander explained. He gave a slight nod, and she continued. 'Sticks from fire got kicked out by Gavin when he fight Bofur. Map was on box, where left, and Jean tried to kick me when I was in front of box. I moved, box was kicked, map fall on the floor. I looked for thing to use in fight and sticks were there, from fire. I burned Jean but dropped the stick when he hit me.'

Thorin was mildly impressed by her resourcefulness, though he did wish she had some proper training to implement it with, and that the circumstances had not lead to the map's burning.

She kept going when he made no interruptions, a small frown appearing as she went over the memory. 'Jean used me as hostage and Gavin… hurt Bofur. Knocked him out. I could not get away. I saw map on floor and stick from fire on it before they knocked me out too.'

So it was indeed a freak accident, caused by the chaos of the struggle and sealed with attempted self-defense. Thorin wanted something to blame the destruction of his grandfather's map on, something to take his frustration out on, but there was nothing. The Men were dead and Miss Hollander did not warrant his ire. She fought as best she could, and he could not blame her for protecting herself.

There was a break while Miss Hollander glanced at him, as though she was still not sure if he wanted her to continue beyond the map's demise. He tilted his chin down and lifted his brows slightly, a sign for her to go on, and so she did, with some hesitance. She told him of waking up and hearing the men speak of the Company and the Trolls, and she told him of nearly escaping, only to be caught and taken away by the one called Gavin, while the other one went to spy on the Dwarves' predicament.

Thorin felt something amiss when the girl explained about being tied up. She paused in signing for a moment, an odd look of indecision on her face as she glanced at his boot again and then away, before she continued, obviously skipping a segment of time.

'I used the whistle, Gavin attacked me, was going to kill me. I hear growl and Warg jump on him… Bite…' Miss Hollander's hands were shaking again, but she managed to finish up. 'Warg almost kill me too. You and Kili and Dwalin saved me. I… never thanked.'

There was another second of stillness as he waited, the girl clearly in thought.

'So… thank you,' she said after a while, now through with her tale, setting her hands in her lap.

Thorin gave a nod of welcome, knowing he only did what anyone with any sense of morality would do. He readjusted as he thought, settling into a similar position as her, but with a leg extended across the stone floor. There was still one thing he was very concerned about, but didn't know how to ask, or if he even should. He felt responsible for all in his Company and the possibility that such a thing occurred would disturb his conscience if he did not. Those two Men had no qualms about injuring this young woman, so why would they have any about maltreatment of another kind?

"The Men," Thorin began uneasily, "They did not... mistreat you in other ways?"

Miss Hollander was frowning in confusion for a moment before she realized what he was asking. She looked horrified, shaking her head rapidly, and the tension left Thorin's body in a rush as he let go of the breath stalled in his lungs.

Her head shakes grew smaller as she turned to stare at the ground a few feet in front of her, biting her lip. With some hesitance, she brought her hands up again to say, 'Gavin… tried. Did not get very far before Jean came back and stopped him.'

Ah, so his guess about her odd pause was right. He wished it hadn't been, of course, a scowl cropping up at the thought of what almost happened, but was grateful the outcome was not worse.

"I am sorry we couldn't come to your aid sooner," Thorin added.

Miss Hollander shook her head again slightly, giving him a tired smile that held no humor, however, still reassured that she was doing alright for now. 'But you did come.'

"Of course," he responded, glancing at her. "How could we not?"

She gave a small shrug, causing her sleeve to slip down again as she signed, 'Very easily.'

"Not so for a Dwarf with any measure of honor," he replied, glancing down at the movement. Thorin's eyes were automatically drawn to the exposed tattoo, to the image of The Lonely Mountain and the red firedrake circling above. It was still so strange to see; the few times he had actually observed it had been so short, with one particular viewing much more awkward than the others. This thought reminded him that no matter the illustration, he was still ogling a young woman's shoulder, and so pulled his gaze away to stare at the balcony railing.

Of course, Miss Hollander shook her head and snorted a bit, causing him to look back over just in time to see her roll her eyes.

He frowned, asking, "What?"

'It is okay,' she responded confidently, though becoming more timid the longer he looked at her. 'Map belonged to your grandfather so you have right to be curious. But I am sorry your map burned. It was imp…' She struggled for a moment before changing her wording. 'It mean a lot to you. I am sorry.'

"While it is regrettable, I cannot blame you for what happened," Thorin supposed, sighing and sitting up a little straighter. "However, as Gandalf said, there is another. Had there been but one…" He trailed off as he stared at the tattoo again, feeling cold at the very thought of the quest for his homeland ending so abruptly, when it had barely begun.

Miss Hollander watched him thoughtfully for a long moment, nibbling on her lip. Suddenly she was readjusting again, pulling at her left sleeve and shrugging right out of it, alarming him until he realized what on earth she was doing. Holding the dress in place over her chest with her free hand, she offered up her tattooed arm for him to sate his curiosity. Just below the inking was a fresh bandage as well. It was not Oín's handiwork, and Thorin knew it must have been tended to by one of the Elves earlier.

The King was torn between being uncomfortable at the situation and relieved that he could freely look upon the remaining map, an odd reassurance that his mission was not at its end. He did not know if she meant it to be such a gesture, or if she was simply getting it out of the way, but the offer was appreciated. He deliberated for a second, trying to decide how to go about this, having a mental battle of propriety versus interest. Had it been anything else, anything other than Thror's map, there would not even be a dispute, and the curiosity would easily have been under control.

However, it was very much Thror's map.

Not wanting to overstep any boundaries, Thorin met her eyes with a question as he lifted his hand slightly. She only nodded, giving him the go ahead to adjust the arm as need be, so he slowly took hold of her wrist between a thumb and two fingers, grip very loose. He studied the image, using his other hand to guide her arm, and she maneuvered accordingly with very little prompting, allowing him to investigate the front of the tattoo first. Everything was exactly the same. He had stared at the original enough times over the past few weeks to know.

Choosing to ignore the softness of Miss Hollander's skin, he focused instead on adjusting her arm once more, going back over all that she had told him this evening. Her Iglishmêk was vastly improved, and Thorin realized she could very well be ready to tell him what the map said of the hidden door.

That was about when he noticed the faint, nearly invisible addition on the back of her arm.

Previously concealed by angles and lighting, on a part that was no longer accessible from his paper copy, were more ancient runes. They were etched in what looked to be white ink, of all things, and though he could not double check, he knew they were not on the original. Thorin's brow furrowed and he tilted his head to get a better view, running a finger along the image in confusion.

"What is this…?" he asked quietly. When there was no movement or attempt to sign in response, he straightened up and removed his hands. "Those runes were not on the other."

Miss Hollander's lips were pursed as she stared at the ground, a bit of a frown on her face as well. There was something she was not telling him, and eventually, she gave a nod. What…?

"So they were? Why is it that we could not see them?" Thorin questioned, becoming anxious in a way he hadn't been since first seeing the map. It was always something with this woman – more secrets, more hidden knowledge, more unexplainable happenings.

Her mouth came open slightly as though she wanted to speak, but brought up her hands to sign. 'They were –' Of course, that was when she remembered her hand had been holding up the dress, and he caught sight of some corset before she frantically slapped her hand back over the cloth. Her cheeks turned red as she hunched her shoulders and ran the free hand down her face.

"Thorin? Miss Hollander?"

Oh, excellent timing.

Gandalf poked around the corner, coming out onto the balcony before he actually took in the scene of an utterly embarrassed Miss Hollander and a Dwarf King who was pointedly glaring at him.

"Am I interrupting?" Gandalf asked, brows raised.

If possible, the girl shrank down more, even her shoulders tingeing pink as she shook her head.

Thorin took that opportunity to stand, turning to help Miss Hollander do the same. She took his offered hand and was back on her feet, avoiding eye contact for multiple reasons.

"Actually, you arrived just in time," said Thorin, gesturing to the tattoo before looking back. "There were apparently hidden runes on the map. Were you aware of this?"

Gandalf stared at the girl for a moment and she gave a sheepish look, as though she were caught doing something she shouldn't. The Wizard sighed then, saying, "I had my suspicions. Though I knew nothing for certain, that is actually why I came to retrieve you. Lord Elrond agreed to have a look at –"

"You told him of the map?" Thorin asked heatedly.

"Of course," Gandalf said, completely certain of his decision. "He is one of the few in Middle Earth who can even read ancient Dwarfish runes."

"We do not need the Elf's help, as I have told you a thousand times over," replied Thorin, with slightly more volume. He glanced over to Miss Hollander, about to state his point that she was ready to tell them on her own, but her face did not agree.

She had slipped her sleeve back on as they were speaking, and was able to sign freely again when he paused. Hesitantly, she said, 'I think… Elrond should still read it. The tattoo.'

Obviously, Thorin didn't understand where she was coming from. "Why should he? Your Iglishmêk is plenty adequate. I do not see why you cannot simply tell us what it says," he objected.

'The words…' she said, trying to shrug away her previous embarrassment to face him head on about this. 'They must be right. Exact and right. I do not want to remember wrong. Or to sign wrong. I get wrong and… and you will not open door.'

Thorin stared at her for a long time, trying to decide what to do. Gandalf had already told Lord Elrond of the map, though how many details were revealed was not clear, and Miss Hollander was not confident enough in her fluency or memory to guarantee an exact recollection. According to her, the wording was of grave importance. According to the girl sent from another world; who knew of Erebor and their quest, who knew of the Battle of Azanulbizar, who knew the Halfling would forget his handkerchief.

Miss Hollander was watching him, green eyes hopeful that he would not place this weight on her. If she got it wrong and they were unable to enter Erebor...

He worked his jaw, exhaling sharply, breaking eye contact to look at the Wizard.

"So be it."


Finally in Rivendell now. :)

Let me know what you thought of this chapter. The Thorin chapters make me the most nervous, because there's so much to balance out, but you all have been very good about making your thoughts known. I trust you guys!

Thank you so much for reading~!

Until next time. ;D