Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit.

The next day, the weather turned for the worst. Cold winds from north cut through the air and brought dark rain clouds. The sky opened up and the company of fifteen were soaked to the bone, even in the refuge of the forest. The dwarves hid under their thick traveling cloaks with bitter frowns on their faces while Marie only had her burgundy coat for protection. Long strands of her hair had come loose from her braid and were plastered over her face and catching in her eyelashes.

"Mr Gandalf, can you do something about this deluge?" Dori called from the back of the line, having enough of the sour weather.

Marie looked up at the wizard, who was riding beside her again that day. His large grey had acted like a small tent for him, leaving his face and beard dry. "It is raining Master Dori and it will continue to rain until the rain is done." Gandalf stated in a matter of fact tone, "If you want to change the weather of the world you should find yourself another wizard."

"Are there other wizards?" Marie asked.

"Yes, five to be exact. The greatest of our order is Saruman the White. Then there are the two Blue Wizards ..." Gandalf's eyes wondered of for a moment, "You know I've quite forgotten their names. And the fifth would be Radagast the Brown."

"What kind of wizard is he? A great one or ... not so great?" Marie pushed the wet hair from her eye to see him better.

"I think he is great wizard, in his own way. He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to other people and keeps a watchful eye over the great forests to the east." Gandalf looked down from his horse and smiled, "I think you would get along splendidly with him Marie."

Her eyebrows knitted together, "I hope you aren't implying that I am like an animal."

"No, no my dear." Gandalf reassured her, but quietly added on, "Well, maybe a mouse."

Marie pretended not to hear him.

The tree line ahead of the company began to thin out, replaced with a more rocky terrain and the sound of a river could be heard. As they neared the clearing, Gandalf saw that the river he had intended to cross over had been flooded. He spurred his horse ahead of the group to have a better look, his lips in a deep set frown.

The company halted along the edge of the river at the water rushed by. As they did they felt the rain start to ease into a light shower.

"Ah good. Seems the weather is turning." Gandalf said and looked up at the clouds.

"We must look for a crossing." Thorin barked over the noise.

"There is no crossing for miles, and the water is moving too fast for the ponies to cross." Gandalf protested calmly, "We should wait until the river dies down. It will be dusk soon anyway."

"We can't waste time Gandalf."

"It would also be good for the men. In my experience, a foul atmosphere can make any journey slower." Gandalf said this a little more quietly. Thorin glanced around at the men, and their burglar. They all share the same grim expressions.

"Alright." Thorin grumbled and dismounted, "We will set up camp back within the forest. Perhaps the trees will provide more suitable coverage."

The dwarves were more than happy to stop. Gloin, Nori and Ori pitched a makeshift tent large enough for all of them to squeeze in under and Bombur and Bofur made a start on some food. The rain had completely stopped by then, allowing Marie a chance to try to dry her cloths.

Being completely aware that she was surrounded by men, Marie took great care in how she did so. She removed only her coat and waistcoat, wringing them out as best she could then hung them on a low branch to dry. She was freezing cold now and rubbed her arms to create some heat. If she wasn't careful she could get a cold.

As she was about to settled down, Bifur came shouting into the camp, carrying on about something and clutching at his hand. "Um, what's he saying?" Marie asked Bofur.

"Aahhh ... you really don't want to know lass. He was just patrolling when he suddenly started cursing." Bofur gestured towards the forest.

"Bifur, may I see your hand please?" She asked. The dwarf made a series of grunts that Maire could only interpret as a yes. She held his hand very carefully as she inspected it. Many of the dwarves were watching the drama from afar with curious eyes. On Bifur's palm there were several purple dots and nettle points stuck in the tough skin.

"As I though. You've been stung by Greta's Heart Bifur."

None of the dwarves had any clue what Marie was on about. "Bofur could you get me two bowls, one with water please?"

"Sure lass, but what for?"

"I need to clean the nettle toxin." Marie gently prodded the purple marks, making Bifur react violently to the pain. Bofur pulled her away from the swinging arms of his kin.

Thorin was watching from afar as he always did, silent and passive. He had his head in the folds of his fur coat, fingers curled around the iron key Gandalf had given him. It was the symbol of hope that Erebor would once again belong to the dwarves, and barely ten feet away from him was the woman who would was to accomplish that.

How? Thorin still couldn't fathom that. Gandalf had called her a mouse before. Indeed, she looked like one. A small, wet, fragile mouse.

"You know, you could show her a little more curtsey." Thorin rolled his eyes as Gandalf approached, "She is trying. And as a member of your company she is entitled to some respect from you."

"I give respect when it is earned, and I have said I am not responsible for her."

Gandalf sighed and sat upon the rock. "I do not mean for you to be lenient just because she is a woman." Gandalf lit his pipe and inhaled a good long puff of the Old Toby. "Talk to her."

"She can't even look me in the eye for very long."

"Then don't growl."

Thorin shook his head at the wizard. His fingers tightened around the key as he looked back over at Marie. Bofur had given her the two bowls and a knife, which she held dangerously close to her arm as she went off somewhere.

Marie found the plant she was looking for at the base of one of the trees just outside the camp and walked closer to inspect it. It was a large bush of nettles with purple leaves that had grown into the trees base and had stretched up the trunk.

She knelt down and placed the bowls next to each other and went to fetch some Kingsfoil. She needed some in order to make a paste to properly clean the nettle stings. Luckily there was a small patch of the weed by another tree and she cut a good handful for herself.

"I see you are versed in medicinal plants."

Marie practically jumped out of her skin at the sound of Thorin's voice. She looked around and saw the dwarf's imposing frame, arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the tree with the Greta's Heart.

'How long has he been standing there?' "A little," She said once she had calmed down from her fright. "But I wouldn't say I'm an expert, I'm just very familiar with this one." She gestured to the nettle bush, "Some of the farmers outside Bree have them planted around their borders."

"And what would you be doing trespassing on their lands?" Thorin asked. Maire cleared her throat and rolled her shoulders casually, "That isn't any bodies business." Using the knife to hold up the nettles, she pulled out the purple leaves carefully. Thorin watched her work silently, not caring that he was causing her to feel uneasy.

"The ahh ... leaves have an anti toxin that ... counteracts the nettles." She started to ramble to distract herself from her discomfort. "It's not fatal but can sting for days after, just enough to keep the animals away."

"And hobbits it seems."

Marie wasn't sure if she should be more surprised that Thorin was making a joke than just actually talking with her. Either way, he wasn't speaking to her with his usual gruff attitude, so she started to feel less scared of him.

"Why would something with poison be called 'Greta's Heart'?"

"Because of this." Marie opened a small hole in the bush with the knife, and revealed a single flowering blooming at its core. Thorin knelt down to have a better look, and was shoulder to shoulder with the hobbit. The flower itself was something he had never come across before, spanning the size if a closed hand. The fine petals were pure white, with flakes of red at the tips. Its centre was bulb of deep crimson and gold, like a precious gem caught in the light.

Thorin was intrigued and reached for it.

"Careful." Marie called, but he had already caught his fingers on the sharp nettles. His hissed and withdrew his hand quickly. "I did warn you." There was a trace of smugness in Marie's voice, for now the tables had turned on who scolded who.

It was then that she noticed that they were a little too close. She discreetly shuffled over to put some distance between them. "I'm not sure what it's actually called, but folk associate it to the old fable." Marie pulled the knife away and the flower disappeared from sight. She collected the leaves together and shredded them into smaller pieces.

"Fable?"

"Aye. My grandmother used to tell it to me. It is the tale of a young maiden named Greta, a maiden with the purest heart in all the land. She could charm the wildest of beasts and sooth the most restless of minds, and when she sang, flowers would bloom all around her. She was selfless and kind, with healer's hands and child like eyes that shone like the moon when she was holding a secret."

Marie began to grind the shredded leaves with the Kingsfoil in the empty bowl as she told the story.

"But, with a heart so pure came an equally pure beauty, and it brought her nothing but sorrow. For in men's hearts lies lecherous greed, and men came far and wide for her hand ... and her body. Greta knew of the fickle nature of a man's affection and was terrified of her heart being broken. So great was her fear that she cut out her own heart."

"She would rather never love at all than risk loving at all?"

Marie nodded her head and mixed the water in with the leaves. There was an earnest look about her as she worked.

"Yes. As she hid her heart in a nearby shrub, her tears fell on the leaves. They turned to nettles and guarded the pure heart from any who would seek to harm it. Greta however died not long after of loneliness, for without her heart she forgot who she was."

The purple paste was ready and she held out a hand to Thorin. He just stared at it confused.

"Do you want to have your fingers stinging for days?" Marie flexed her hand, indicating him to give her his own.

Thorin was taken aback but her sudden confidence with him and complied with her wish. She scooped up the paste with two fingers and began applying it evenly along Thorin's fingertips. Though they were small in comparison to his, they were calloused and firm, the hands of a hard worker. The paste was cool against the skin and Thorin felt the stinging easing.

"It is a shame that such a beautiful flower can't be seen." Thorin said to pass the time.

"Well it can be, under the right circumstances."

"You mean if someone is willing dig through poisonous nettles and harm themselves."

"Isn't that what you're doing?" Marie asked, "Risking a dragon's wrath for your people's treasure? Your home? When the reward is great enough, just about anyone will put themselves in harm's way."

Thorin would have never guessed her to be so profound.

"It doesn't look too bad, so it should be fine in a few minutes." Marie said when she was done. Her hand felt warm against his.

Thorin jerked his hand from her's and left quite suddenly.

He did not even thank her.

Marie was puzzled by his odd behavior. First he ignored her presence, then out of nowhere talked to her then he was back to brushing her aside.

She spent the rest of that evening picking out nettles from Bifur's hand, with the help of Bofur and Kili who restrained him for the ordeal. Amidst the dwarvish swearing and grunt, Marie took no notice of it and was wrapped up in her own thoughts.

Her patient hands and focused face was watched from afar by the king.