Damn, y'all were really rooting for Saf to kill that guy, huh? Noted lol.

Chapter Five

A Matter of Trust

The only sounds in the forest were Saf and Bilbo's heavy breathing and the horse's thundering hoofbeats as they flitted through the trees, Saf guiding the reins around the roots and low-hanging branches appearing out of the gloom that threatened to hinder their speed as they fled.

Saf could detect nothing of the bandits from Archet, and she assumed they had stayed behind in the town rather than give chase as there were no sounds of pursuit. It was relieving, not having to worry about a confrontation with the bandits, but at the same time, Saf couldn't help but fear what else they were going to do to the town in her absence.

She hoped they had gotten what they wanted and were leaving soon, yet something in her gut told her they hadn't come just to plunder and steal as she flashed back to the white leaves strewn about the ground, and the bandit she had spoken with before her flight.

Suppressing a shudder, Saf focused her attention back on her surroundings, her eyes picking out every small detail she could find in the dark that would help lead her to the Company. They were on the right path, for there were many branches broken and bent back from the broad bodies of the dwarves as they had gone through, and the ground was uneven and the earth disturbed from the many hooves that had trampled the dirt.

"Have we lost the others?" Bilbo spoke up from in front of her, and Saf didn't miss the small waver in his voice.

She did not draw attention to it, though, instead replying, "Not at all, Master Baggins. They are actually quite close now."

The hobbit said nothing, but Saf felt some of the tension leave his shoulders as he slumped in the saddle, relieved.

True to Saf's word, she could soon see shadows moving in a clearing ahead, and she trundled through the trees before her horse suddenly reared, letting out a scream at the same time Bilbo cried out, and Saf gripped the hobbit's waist to keep him from being thrown as she yanked on the reins herself to avoid toppling off the back.

"Whoa!" she cried, tapping the horse's sides gently to get it to calm as her eyes zeroed in on what had spooked the beast. The dwarf Kíli stood half in the shadows, arrow drawn and bow aiming straight at them, though he put it down quickly upon realizing who they were.

"Stand down," he called to the others, and the rest of the Company melted from the trees, hastily stowing away their weapons as they congregated in the clearing before them. He nodded to Saf and Bilbo. "Sorry about that."

Thorin strode forward then, sheathing his sword at his waist and glaring up at Saf, still atop the horse, though fortunately, the creature had calmed now. "Were you followed?"

"Unless you count that pony, then no, we were not," she said, and the Company looked to where she had gestured to see Bilbo's pony trot out of the trees, flanks heaving from running but otherwise unharmed.

"Myrtle!" Bilbo said happily, and Saf helped the hobbit slide off her horse so he could attend to his own, his legs wobbly as he stood back on solid ground, though at least he was still upright.

Saf dismounted after him, patting her horse's neck in thanks as Thorin spoke up again.

"We'll camp here for the night," he said before gesturing to Saf and Bilbo. "The rest of the ponies are on the outskirts over there if you would like to put yours with them."

Saf nodded as the dwarves began to set up camp, laying out bedrolls, retrieving rations and pipes, and starting a fire in the center of the clearing as she began to lead her horse forward, only stopping when she saw Bilbo struggling to lead Myrtle by her bridle.

"Master Baggins, I can take your pony if you'd like," she offered, and the hobbit turned at the sound of her voice, smiling and looking quite relieved as he handed her the reins.

"Thank you," he said gratefully. "I, ah, never really had the opportunity to be around horses much, so you could say I am quite uneducated when it comes to handling them."

"Well, that ought to change soon, then, if you're to be riding one for the duration of your journey," she replied, looking the hobbit up and down as he grinned sheepishly. "Tell you what, Master Baggins; I'll teach you how to properly ride and care for your horse, that way you can have one less thing to worry about on the road."

"That sounds quite agreeable," he said, and Saf quirked a grin at the hobbit.

"Very well," she said. "We shall begin on the morrow, then."

She moved away with both horses in tow after Bilbo had nodded enthusiastically, though once the hobbit had gone toward the camp, Saf frowned to herself. She had decided she would stay with the Company for only a few days, just until they were safe to journey back onto the Road, so why she had offered to train the hobbit?

Just for a few days, she reminded herself as she found the ponies and tied Myrtle and her stolen horse with the others. I can teach him the basics in that time, at least.

Saf finished her task and was about to turn toward the camp when she felt a presence at her back. Without turning around, she said, "Do you require something of me, Gandalf?"

The wizard came up beside her and leaned on his staff as he gazed at her thoughtfully. Saf in turn stared into the shadowy woods.

"Require something? No, I should think not," he said, and Saf let out a little hrmph. "But I do believe some thanks are in order for your help with the Company tonight."

"It was a debt repaid, nothing more," she said. "We will be going our separate ways in a few short days, so it was the least I could do before moving on again."

"What do you mean?" Gandalf asked, looking at her with furrowed grey brows.

"Archet is not safe for me anymore," she said, raising one of her shoulders in a shrug. "You were right, Gandalf; those raiders were much more than simple bandits, and I will not stay in a town where I could be exposed at any moment. It is time for me to go."

"These bandits," Gandalf said slowly. "You recognized them?"

Saf nodded stiffly, her discomfort growing with each passing second.

"I did not recognize them specifically; only what they stood for," she said darkly. "But at least one of them seemed to remember me."

Gandalf gave her a puzzled look, and Saf prepared herself for a long conversation, knowing the wizard wouldn't stop pestering her for every last detail even if she were buried in her own grave.

"I had an altercation with one of the bandits," she explained. "I was going to leave it alone until I saw what he was carrying: impressions of the White Leaves from the Tree of Gondor. I demanded to know who he worked for, but he would not answer, only stating that someone high up in his chain of command would love nothing more than to see me dead; and that was when I knew I was no longer safe."

"Then it was the Watchers who had attacked?" Gandalf asked, baffled, and Saf nodded solemnly. "Are you sure?"

"Quite," she responded dryly. "I think I would know better than most."

Gandalf shook his head, his features lined with confusion and concern. "I do not understand," he said finally. "How would they know to look so far north, especially after being so dormant all these years in Gondor?"

"I was hoping you could tell me that," Saf said, looking at the wizard and raising a brow, and Gandalf scowled as he understood her implication.

"Are you suggesting that I had a hand in this attack, Safavael Tinnuhiril?" he growled, his voice like a low rumble of thunder.

"I'm not suggesting anything," she said calmly. "But you are the Wandering Wizard, are you not? It is easy for one to wonder if your mouth may have wandered too far for spies of Gondor to hear of my whereabouts."

"That is absurd," Gandalf snapped. "I have always admired your caution, Safavael, but it seems that life as a hermit has pushed you to the edges of paranoia in this matter. What reason would I have to betray you?"

Saf did not reply to this, not having an answer herself, instead saying, "I cannot stay in Archet, Gandalf. The Watchers swore to kill me should they ever find me, and I cannot risk them bringing harm to that town again should I return."

"Then where are you to go?" Gandalf asked, but Saf was already shaking her head when she saw the mischievous glint in his eyes.

"This changes nothing, Gandalf," she said. "I will not go on the quest with you and this Company; it is not my place."

"What other options do you have, then?" he asked shrewdly, and Saf chewed on her lower lip, not quite having an answer for him yet.

When it was clear she was not going to say anything, the wizard sighed.

"If there is nothing else for you here, Safavael, then please consider helping these dwarves, at the very least," he said quietly. "I think you of all people would understand their quest the most."

She remained silent until Gandalf had turned and made his way back to camp before expelling a large breath and hanging her head, feeling a faint throb start to emanate from her temples as the events of the day crashed into her.

Her decision was resolute, that much she knew; she would not return to Archet, nor would she join the Company of Thorin Oakenshield on their quest to reclaim Erebor. Despite Gandalf's wishes, she had a feeling that the quest would offer her more harm than good; it was far too easy to be found traveling on the Road rather than being a nameless resident of an equally nameless town. And though Gandalf was adamant that she understood these dwarves better than some, Saf was not as agreeable as he; the Lonely Mountain was not her home, and it never would be, even if she were to help them. She was not a dwarf; it was not her place to step in and offer her assistance, not when everything they knew was on the line, and she was an outsider who could never understand the value of such things they held dear.

But then, where had she to go? She had been wandering Eriador for so long, had seen every place west of the Misty Mountains that her places of refuge were growing slim. She could make for the Gap of Rohan, she supposed, and settle in the Westfold; it was close enough to Gondor to where the Watchers would not suspect her of daring to venture so near, yet it was far enough away from Minas Tirith to where she would not have to live in constant fear of being sighted. It seemed the best option for her, yet she was not entirely convinced of it, her mind wandering back to Gandalf's last words: "If there is nothing else for you here, Safavael, then please consider helping these dwarves, at the very least."

A snapping of a twig behind her broke Saf out of her thoughts, yet once again she remained facing forward, knowing who it was going to be even before he said anything.

"Is it impossible for a woman to have a moment to herself?" she said, speaking to the trees as Thorin Oakenshield halted at her shoulder, clasping his hands behind him and standing tall, though the top of his head was still several inches below her own.

Thorin ignored her, opting to stand in silence for several minutes as Saf inwardly rolled her eyes.

Finally, after several awkward minutes had passed, Thorin spoke, his voice low as he asked, "Why did you help my Company?"

Saf gave a noncommittal shrug. "Gandalf asked me to."

"You feel loyalty to him, then?" he asked.

"He helped me out of a tight spot once," she said. "I owed him a favor."

Thorin grunted deep in his throat, his rich baritone vibrating as he crossed his arms.

"It is unusual for a woman to put her life at such risk in repayment of a debt involving complete strangers," he noted.

"You are Thorin Oakenshield," she replied blandly. "I know your name, and you mine. Seems like an acquaintance to me."

Thorin shot her a look. "Yet you are a stranger to my men and me. You may have helped us, but that does not constitute trust."

"And you may not have stuck a knife in my back when you had the chance, yet that does not constitute my trust of you, either," she countered. "Trust is a mirror, Thorin Oakenshield; one must ask himself the same question as his reflection if he wants the answers he seeks. And as of right now, I know you do not trust me, so pray tell – why should I trust you?"

When he did not immediately answer, Saf gave him a sardonic grin and slipped away into the trees, navigating her way through the shadows until she found herself at the makeshift pony pen once more.

She walked through the dozing creatures, listening to their soft nickers and snorts as they slept at their posts, and Saf found the presence of the animals much more comforting than that of either Gandalf or Thorin Oakenshield. She had had quite enough conversation for one night, and now all she wanted was to settle someplace quiet and peaceful so she could sleep.

She found her stolen horse and approached it when she saw it was still awake, gazing at her with intelligent dark eyes through the gloom. It was a beautiful brown mare, her coat so dark it could almost be considered black, with a white stripe down her nose that Saf traced with her fingers, the horse nuzzling into her hand at the contact.

Saf smiled softly to herself, and leaned in close, whispering conspiratorially in her ear. "I'm sorry for stealing you," she said. "But if you'd like, I can give you a name."

The mare flicked her ears in response, and Saf took that as a yes. "Very well. How do you like Frigg?"

The horse dipped her head as if to acknowledge the new name, and Saf patted her flank one last time before bidding the newly christened Frigg goodnight and crossing over to a tree some distance away, climbing into the lowermost branches and settling her back against the trunk, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming her.

Not even bothering to secure herself on the branch, she leaned her head back and was asleep in less than two minutes, her dreams filled with images of white towers and a dead white tree that seemed to whisper her name.

"Miss Saf?" a voice called early the next morning, and Saf jerked awake, fortunately still in the tree as she hurriedly blinked the sleep from her eyes and sat up, listening for the voice again. "Miss Saf, are you still here?"

Recognizing Bilbo's voice, Saf slipped down from the tree and landed quietly on the ground behind the hobbit as he wandered through the ponies, looking to see if either she or her horse were still there.

"I'm here, Master Baggins," she said, approaching him from behind as he jumped slightly and turned.

"Oh, good," he said, relieved. "The Company is preparing to leave, and I wanted to see if you would like some breakfast before we set out."

Saf nodded, giving the hobbit a small smile. "That sounds wonderful," she said, and Bilbo smiled back before gesturing her after him as they went back to the dwarves' camp.

They walked in amiable silence for a few moments before Bilbo cleared his throat and spoke. "I thought for a moment that you might have left. You did not return to the camp last night, and when I went to find you…"

"I did not return to the camp because it was not mine to intrude on," Saf told him. "I am your guide for a few days at the most, not your companion; it did not seem right to think of myself as such."

"You saved our lives last night," Bilbo said, and she grimaced. "You could have stayed with us; I'm sure the others wouldn't have minded. After all, they have learned to tolerate me, and so far all I've done is sign a contract and complain about not having any handkerchiefs."

Saf snorted at this last part, though the mention of a contract piqued her interest. "What contract do you mean?"

Bilbo gave her a sidelong look before shrugging his small shoulders. "I was hired as a burglar for their quest."

"A burglar? Whatever for?"

Bilbo looked away uncomfortably, and Saf got the feeling he was not allowed to divulge such information, so instead of pressing, she waved away her question.

"Never mind," she said. "It doesn't matter." When Bilbo gave her a grateful look, she continued. "Well, burglar or not, Master Baggins, I find you quite tolerable, if that's any consolation."

Bilbo chuckled just as they reached the camp. "Thank you, Miss Saf. Always good to know I'm still respectable in the eyes of some people."

"Ah, there you are, Miss Saf!" the dwarf with the floppy hat and brown braids said, and after some hard thinking, Saf remembered him to be Bofur as he gestured her over to the fire, where food was being served by the immense ginger dwarf she definitely recognized as Bombur. "You better hurry if you want any food before Fíli here eats it all."

He gestured to the handsome blond dwarf standing by Kíli's side as the two loaded their plates, and Saf smirked as he looked up and complained, "Oi!"

"No need to worry, Master Bofur," she said, raising a hand in peace as Fíli glared at the grinning dwarf. "I'm sure there is enough to go around without blaming the others for the extras you seem to be piling on your plate as it is."

Bofur, who had been trying to discreetly slide another piece of bacon onto his plate when the others weren't looking, suddenly stopped as everyone stared, and Fíli raised a brow as the others roared with laughter, watching Bofur replace the bacon sheepishly as he laughed along.

"Things don't seem to slip past your notice often, do they now, Miss Saf?" Bofur chortled, and Saf shrugged modestly, accepting the plate Bombur handed her with a nod of thanks.

"When you work as a barmaid, those sorts of things hardly do," she answered, settling herself on the ground next to Bilbo as most of the other dwarves joined them, though she noticed how the more suspicious ones – including Dwalin, the red-haired one named Glóin and his hard of hearing brother Óin, Dori, and, of course, Thorin – remained in their own small group some ways away from them.

"And how long have you been doing that?" Nori asked, shoveling a bite of eggs into his mouth as he raised a braided brow at her.

Saf tried not to tense, telling herself it was a harmless question and he was not intentionally prying into her life, though her voice still came out a bit forced as she answered, "Seven years. Ever since I came of age."

It wasn't technically a lie; she had been a barmaid for seven years, yet she had come of age long before then, though the dwarves did not need to know her true age; that would just bring about many questions she had neither the desire nor the time to answer.

Nori nodded at her reply, though her tone seemed to indicate she was done with any more questions, and soon the Company was talking amongst themselves around her and Bilbo, who opted to sit and listen as the dwarves chatted and joked and ate their breakfast.

When the sun was beginning to clear the tree line, Gandalf wandered back into their camp from Eru-knew-where and spoke to Thorin, who shortly after ordered them to clear out and move on.

"Miss Saf will be our guide through these woods until it is deemed safe for us to venture back onto the Road," he said grudgingly, shooting Saf a wary look as he spoke to the Company. "After that, we will continue with our quest in earnest."

The Company all nodded in consent, and soon the camp was dismantled and their belongings repacked as they made their way to the ponies, ready to depart.

Saf untied Frigg from her post and mounted the saddle once more, waiting for the others as Gandalf approached her atop his own horse. He still looked vaguely irritated with her, but he kept his tone benign as he said, "Do you know what path you intend to take?"

Saf nodded, combing her fingers through Frigg's mane absentmindedly. "The Chetwood is small, so we should be out of it by either tonight or tomorrow morning, at the least. From there we will run into the Midgewater, which I will lead you around, before approaching the Great East Road in two or three days, depending on our speed. That is when I will take my leave."

"You mean to avoid Weathertop, then?" he asked, and Saf shot him a scornful look.

"At all costs, if I must," she said. "That place is nothing but a barren ruin, an ancient monument of days past. It holds no meaning to us anymore."

She snapped her mouth shut, mentally cursing herself when Gandalf looked her over curiously, though fortunately, he said nothing of her slip-of-tongue.

"Very well," he said. "I will inform Thorin of our route, and then you may lead on."

The wizard moved away just as she caught sight of Bilbo standing in front of Myrtle and petting her nose with some trepidation. Saf ambled over on Frigg, watching the hobbit and his pony interact with approval.

"Well, if nothing else, it certainly seems that your pony has taken quite a liking to you," she noted with amusement, and Bilbo turned at her voice, giving her a brief smile.

"Myrtle's a sweet girl," he agreed. "Aren't you?" He scratched the pony under her chin, and Myrtle snorted in pleasure as Saf swung off Frigg and approached the bonding pair.

"It is good to have a connection with your horse," Saf told him. "You will be riding together for a long way, and trust in each other is crucial, especially in times of peril."

Saf then gestured to the saddle, motioning for Bilbo to step up beside her.

"This handle is called the pommel," she said, grasping the leather bit at the front and motioning for him to do the same. "Put your hand on this when you are mounting; it is a good handhold, and much better than grabbing onto poor Myrtle's neck or mane."

When Bilbo's hand had replaced hers on the pommel, she then quickly instructed him on how to correctly swing himself into the saddle, and the motions he needed to go through with the reins while riding. After she was satisfied with his progress, Saf then wished him luck and re-mounted Frigg, who had been waiting patiently for her the entire time.

No sooner had she gotten on her horse than Thorin trotted over atop his shaggy black pony, his blue eyes clear and deep-set in the morning light as he gave her a small nod out of courtesy.

"When you are ready," he said, flicking a hand that signaled for her to lead, and Saf before turning Frigg and starting out of the clearing without a word to the dwarf.

She heard him command the others to fall in line, and soon they were venturing deeper into the woods, Saf setting a brisk pace as they walked through the morning.

They stopped once at noon for lunch and a short rest before moving on again, and Saf took the lead once more, content with just riding and not speaking, too wrapped up in her memories of roaming the Wild before settling in Archet to think of much else. It was strange being back out in the world after spending so long a time inside civilization, and she had quite forgotten just how…liberating it was, being in the fresh air and the clean-smelling woods again. She had missed it, she realized with a jolt.

The dwarves kept a jovial atmosphere about them for most of the day, and Saf had to marvel at their good spirits after spending the previous night running away from bandits. The only ones who didn't seem to be participating in the festivities were her, Gandalf, Thorin, and Bilbo, the hobbit seeming to be too intent on riding to notice much else, while Gandalf and Thorin both appeared to be lost deep in thought from the times she had looked back to scope her surroundings and see if the Company was still keeping pace.

Dusk was settling when they rode to the edge of a steep ravine, with no way across except for an old stone bridge Saf recognized from her first wanderings of the Chetwood. She had no idea where the bridge had come from or who it belonged to, for no one had settled in these lands for miles, yet she imagined it had been used long ago, for it was ancient, cracked and decrepit and crawling with moss and vines.

She waited for the others to catch up, the Company spreading around her on their ponies, and she wasn't entirely surprised when Thorin rode up beside her, his lip curling in distaste at the sight of the bridge.

"You mean for us to cross this?" he asked skeptically, eyeing the admittedly treacherous-looking pathway across the ravine.

"Unless you would like to see if your pony can grow wings, then yes," she replied dryly, smirking a bit when his lip twitched.

Thorin grunted, still looking disapproving, and Saf's grin broadened.

"What's the matter?" she mocked. "Afraid the nasty orc pack under the bridge is going to come and gobble you up if you try and cross?"

Thorin instantly stiffened at her words, and the grin on her face slipped when he turned sharply and glared at her with blazing blue eyes, his mouth pressed into a hard, flat line that made his lips go white.

"Do not speak of such matters lightly!" he said, and Saf blinked at his harsh tone, taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor. "You know nothing of the world if you think orcs are something to poke fun at."

He spurred his pony forward before she could fathom a response and began to cross the bridge, his back stiff and his shoulders tense as Saf watched him ride ahead.

Ignoring the eyes boring into her back from the rest of the Company, Saf swallowed and raised her chin, following after Thorin as the others filed in behind her.

They rode in silence until nightfall, Thorin taking the lead and riding some ways ahead of Saf and the others. The whole time Saf couldn't help but wonder what she had said to make him so angry; she had had her fair share of orc encounters, so his words of her knowing nothing of the world stung a bit, yet she had no idea what could have set him off.

Then again, she knew next to nothing of him to begin with; family of his could have died in an ambush or something along those lines. That had to be it, she decided, though the conclusion did nothing to alleviate the slight sense of guilt she felt every time she looked at the back of his head. She would have to apologize, she knew, and though the notion did not appeal to her at all, she was not as senseless as to leave such a barbed remark out in the open like that.

When the inky night began to close in around them, Thorin ordered them to stop under a rocky outcrop and make camp, dismounting from his pony and stalking into the trees to retrieve firewood faster than Saf could say Gandalf's knickers.

She disembarked from her saddle much more slowly, rubbing Frigg's neck as she tied her up with the other ponies before hesitating on the edges of the dwarves' camp. There was no way she was going to go after an angry Thorin sulking in the dark woods, yet she didn't want to impose on the Company, either.

Deciding she'd be better off taking her own jaunt through the woods to let off some steam, she turned to slip away into the trees when Bofur's voice held her back, and she looked to see him waving at her from the spot on the ground he was sharing with Fíli, Kíli, Balin, Nori, and Bifur.

"Miss Saf!" he called, gesturing her over. "Why don't you come sit and rest for a moment, eh?"

"Thank you, Master Bofur, but I am quite all right," she said, taking a step closer to the trees. "I'm not much in the mood for sitting down right now."

"Nonsense," Bofur said around the newly-lit pipe in his mouth, waving off her protests with a flippant hand. "Take a seat and relax; we'll have a fire going in a few minutes, and you'll have a chance to be first in line for Bombur's excellent cooking."

He waggled his brows at this, and Saf stifled a sigh, sensing he wasn't going to let her off so easily.

"A few minutes would not hurt," she agreed reluctantly, crossing over to their circle as Bofur beamed and shifted aside to make room for her.

She sat down between him and Balin, crossing her legs underneath her and wrapping her arms around her torso, grinning nervously when Bofur clapped a hand on her shoulder and praised, "That's the spirit!"

After watching him blow a smoke ring from his mouth and tossing her a wink when he caught her eye, Saf's attention was drawn by Nori, who sat across the circle from her and chewed on his pipe absentmindedly, lounging on his elbows with his legs crossed before him.

"You all right, Miss Saf?" he asked, tracking her with sly grey eyes. "You seem…uncomfortable."

"I consider myself merely as your guide for a few days," she answered honestly, holding his gaze steady as she spoke. "I did not expect to be welcomed by your Company as such."

"You helped us back in Archet," Nori said, shrugging. "And we are not so callous as to leave even a mere guide to fend for herself in the woods."

"Aye," Fíli said, acknowledging Saf for the first time since they had met the night before as he nodded to her. "Our acquaintance may be only for a few days, but we have plenty of food and good company to share in that time."

"Hear, hear, brother," Kíli drawled from his new position, which was lying on his back with a hand tucked under his head as he smoked, and Fíli kicked his foot at the comment, though he was grinning as Kíli retaliated with one of his heavy boots, which the blond brother avoided easily, chuckling and taking a drag on his pipe.

Saf had to smirk at their antics, their playfulness reminding her of the Pennybrooks' sons whenever they wrestled in the tavern sometimes, though her smile faded quickly upon wondering if the Pennybrooks' had made it through the attack all right. As distant as she kept herself, she had never bonded with them as family, but still; they had taken her in and given her work, and – though they were not aware of it – a new life for her to begin, as well. She owed them more than she could ever repay, and she hoped she could tell them that someday soon.

Drifting back out of the dwarves' conversation around her, Saf took this time to truly study the Company as they milled about the camp, finding their group quite intriguing despite her best interests telling her not to.

There was Gandalf, of course, the infuriating and meddlesome wizard who sat underneath a shady tree, also smoking and still looking deeply immersed in whatever was obviously plaguing his mind; and some distance away stood Bilbo, trying to discreetly feed Myrtle an apple from his pack, and Saf pondered on the hobbit for a moment, trying to decipher his purpose of being with the dwarves.

He was a gentle creature, she could tell, with a kind heart and genuine compassion, yet it was apparent he had never been on a journey quite like this before. And hired as a burglar! The notion still baffled her; what kind of hobbit could have gotten himself sucked into this mess to begin with? If time permitted, maybe she would ask him; for right now, the hobbit's motives were as much a mystery as the nighttime shadows around them.

Her gaze next wandered to the burly, tattooed form of Dwalin, standing watch as he leaned against the outcrop of rock that sheltered them from the mild summer wind. She had had next to no interaction with him, and frankly, she'd like to keep it that way; the dwarf looked downright intimidating with his rippling muscles, particularly with the chunk missing from his right ear. The smaller, slighter dwarf named Ori sat some distance away from Dwalin, scribbling contently in a leather-bound journal with his elder brother Dori beside him, appearing to be knitting, though she didn't know if her eyes were playing tricks on her or not.

Near them sat Óin and Glóin, the two brothers deep in conversation (though Óin still looked a tad confused), yet Saf still caught the suspicious looks they were throwing her way and moved on quickly, not wanting to add to that distrust further by being caught staring at them. Bombur sat by himself, separated from the majority of the Company as he took out rations and cooking ware and prepared for dinner, though Saf guessed he was enjoying his solitude when she heard the faint humming from the back of his throat.

The group around her she studied last; Bofur, the good-spirited dwarf who always kept the others laughing; Bifur, the quiet and observant one, seemingly neutral about everything; Balin, the kindly old dwarf who reminded Saf slightly of a warm stuffed bear she would have liked to hug as a child; Nori, the sarcastic dwarf who seemed to deal in realism the most out of the group; and Fíli and Kíli, the young brothers with the innocent eyes yet with a streak of mischief and recklessness she could sense burning under the surface. She supposed this group was the least dour and mistrustful of the Company, which was why they were at least accepting of her presence, and for that, she was grateful; it would make her life that much easier traveling with them the next couple of days.

Yet that, of course, brought her back to the matter of Thorin Oakenshield, especially when said dwarf finally stomped out of the trees with a stack of firewood in his arms that Glóin readily offered to light when he set them down.

He accepted the red-haired dwarf's bid with a grateful nod before brushing off his hands and moving away from the center of the camp where the rest of them were congregated, casting a look at the group on the ground and meeting Saf's eyes briefly before flicking them away, his face curiously blank as he made his way over to where Dwalin stood watch.

Saf followed his movements for a moment, trying to categorize the dwarf as she had with the others, yet finding it impossible; he was the most isolated of the Company, silent and brooding, with a temper Saf had seen flare to life that day. He was like water, she mused; always slipping through her fingers, never quite in her reach.

"I wouldn't take to heart his words from earlier, lass," Balin said suddenly at her shoulder, and Saf was startled out of her intense concentration on the black-haired dwarf when Balin followed her gaze.

"Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs," he elaborated when Saf only gave him a wondering look. "He did not mean to speak so harshly, but orcs are a blight on our history, you must understand."

Saf nodded slowly, suddenly recalling stories she had overheard amongst her travels.

"You have fought many battles with them," she said, noticing that their conversation was starting to gain attention from their group as heads swiveled toward them. "Orcs have a grudge against anything that is not themselves, yet their hatred for dwarves is unrivaled by most."

"Aye," Balin affirmed, nodding solemnly. "That is true. Our feud with the orcs has been long and bloody. Too bloody, at times."

"And Thorin," she said, noting how the dwarves tensed and traded uncomfortable looks when she mentioned the king-in-exile. "I assume he was pulled into this feud at one point, else he would not have reacted the way he did at my words."

Balin nodded, his face taking on a haunted look, the dwarves around her looking uncharacteristically somber, as well.

"Some years ago now, King Thrór, Thorin's grandfather, tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria after Erebor fell," Balin began. "Orcs had taken over the halls by then, horrible, twisted beasts from Gundabad, led by the vilest of all their race: Azog the Defiler.

"Having claimed lordship over Moria, and driven by a vicious hatred for all dwarves, he swore to break the Line of Durin. He began by beheading the King.

"Thráin, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He waded into the battle, ax in hand, yet he was never seen again. Whether he was taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. Frerin, Thorin's brother, was also slain.

"Thorin had witnessed all of their deaths and swore to avenge his fallen kin by killing Azog himself. He faced down the Pale Orc upon the highest slope of Azanulbizar, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield." He smiled slightly to himself, and Saf became aware of just how silent the camp had gotten when he paused, every dwarf enraptured with the story, though they must have heard it thousands of times.

"Azog learned that day that the Line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Thorin emerged victorious after Azog slunk back into the hole from whence he came, mortally wounded, and the dwarves rallied, driving back the orcs. Yet there was no song, nor feast that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We had to burn them on pyres instead of laying them to rest in the halls of their fathers, buried in tombs of stone, as they should have been."

He blinked back tears, and something in Saf's chest flared at the thought of this kind old dwarf and Thorin Oakenshield having to fight and live through such horrors.

"If there was one thing I knew for certain then, it was that Thorin was the right king for us to follow," he said quietly, his mouth turning up in a small smile. "He has led us well since then, just as he will lead us well now until we see Erebor reclaimed, and after."

Saf met the king-in-exile's eyes through the shadows and flickering flames from the fire, the deep midnight blue finding her own dark grey, and she bowed her head in a sign of respect, hoping she could convey to him the apology she had been keeping at bay all day.

It seemed he understood her message, thankfully, and jerked his chin once before looking away, turning back to Dwalin and speaking in a low voice.

Saf dropped her gaze to the crackling fire some feet away, letting the golden-red light stain her eyes as she stared into it without really seeing it, a memory of her own threatening to intrude on her mind after Balin's haunting story of Moria.

"It was a bloodbath," the Ranger cloaked in all black said, and though he tried to sound remorseful, Saf did not believe him for a second, standing at her father's shoulder as he and her mother spoke to the other Ranger. "They stood no chance against such an ambush. I am sorry."

Two more Rangers had brought forth the gurney then, and Saf saw the blood-soaked sheet, her stomach roiling as she clung on to her mother's sleeve, though she was far too old to be doing such a thing.

It was only when she heard her mother sobbing did she realize what this meant, what the body under the sheet was, who it was…

"Iorhael!" her mother was screaming. "Iorhael, my son! No!"

Her father did nothing, said nothing; no words of comfort were offered, no prayers were spoken to ease the pain, though Saf should not have been shocked; Iorhael was not her father's son, and he had made that quite plain in the years Saf had been old enough to understand why.

At that moment, Saf finally found her father's indifference and her mother's grief unbearable.

Without looking back, she turned and fled into the woods.