A.N. Thank you for the comments, they made my day!

Kelwtim2spar, ah, no Mary Sue here, nope. Bilbo as he was written was enough of a Mary Sue; in my opinion, of course. We can all do with something a bit different.

Guest I tried to pace myself after the movie, but it doesn't work very well. The trilogy is very long in minutes, but there's precious little character building. So I kind of need the scenes that were not shown or even shot - the ones that lead me to why a character would act one way or another.

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All in all very lofty goals :) My skills are not brill, but I believe I can tell a story. And hopefully everybody who reads it will find it enjoyable.


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The company spent a leisurely day in the forest while their king slept. A little way away there was a stream and they took advantage to clean themselves of troll filth.

It was Yeva who woke up first, in large part because she rolled on her bruised left cheek. Gandalf and the dwarves were all looking at her with interest. Oin got to her first, all business: "I'll see to your injuries now if you can stand it."

"Yeah, I need tape and diclofenac."

Nobody knew what she was talking about, but Yeva was still too sleepy to notice or care. "My pack?"

"How did you meet our uncle?" Kíli was immediately shushed by the rest of the company and he shrugged unrepentantly. "What? When did Thorin ever bring a wo-" A swift kick to the shins silenced him.

"My brother is still tired from the night we had."

"You are all curious though."

"Aye," Balin approached her. "We would all like to know who we have to thank for saving our Thorin."

From farther away Thorin was debating with himself about the wisdom of letting Yeva talk alone with the company, especially with Balin. His calm and affability served to put others at ease, something his old friend was never above exploiting to his own advantage if he could.

On the other hand, he was curious about how she would handle herself. He was not afraid that she would say more than was wise and even if that would be the case, he knew he could not watch over her at all times. She never instructed him on what he could or could not speak with her acquaintances and he would do her the courtesy of trusting her as well. So he kept his eyes closed and listened.

"I'm Yeva Gordon, at your service." Thorin heard a few snorts, Dwalin's louder than most and sighed. It did not look very promising.

"But how did you meet Uncle?"

"Ah, my husband and Thorin -"

"So you are married?" He would have to have a word with Kíli. The lad was not behaving as he should. Why, he sounded like the worst gossip, not an heir of Durin!

"Mahal, Kíli," came Fíli's annoyed voice, "you will cease."

"Widowed." She saw Fíli ready to open his mouth again, to further admonish his brother, no doubt. "It was some years ago, master dwarf," she said quickly. "You could say that Thorin is in charge of my welfare now. You see, my husband and Thorin shared some common interests and one thing led to another."

"What would those common interests be, Lady Yeva?" Dwalin asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

"Just Yeva, if you please. And do not ask me that! I learnt right away that Thorin likes to keep his business to himself."

There was a hum of agreement among the dwarves.

"I wonder at your husband leaving you in his care," Gandalf picked up the conversation. "You are battered and bruised where Thorin has nary a scratch."

"My husband spent entirely too much time with his nose in his Elvish scrolls," Yeva huffed as if that explained anything.

"You were married to an elf?"

"Goodness, no!" She gasped and laughed a little. "He was a man like any other, though he fancied himself a scholar of sorts. He was fascinated by elves, especially their weapons."

"Did he have any? Like the ones we found?"

"Elvish blades you mean?"

"Aye."

Leave it to Fíli to ask about knives and daggers, Yeva thought wryly.

"Uh, no. You see, the elves were not as taken with him as he was with them." There was a roar of laughter and Thorin thought it was as good a time as any to wake up as it were.

The previous night, while they were moving to find the source of the light, he hatched a plan to say that Yeva was his wife. It would offer her the protection of a husband, which was worth more than anything his friendship alone could provide for her. His house was diminished, his power barely reaching beyond his Halls. Even so, being married was the safest situation for her, much more so than being only his friend.

He never reckoned with meeting the company though.

Yeva's account of their dealings was a better idea. She never told any outright lie, although those who did not know their circumstances would be left with the impression that her husband passed her in his care. That suited him just fine. She was in his care and would continue to be for the foreseeable future unless she chose to remain in Rivendell rather than face the perils of their quest. That was unlikely because it seemed he too was in her care.

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Once Thorin was awake the first order of business for Yeva was to be looked over by Oin. She was not sure he was any good, but then nobody died of their wounds on the road, so he must know a thing or two.

He did, she was later forced to admit.

He was a tad uneasy asking her to undress, but only because he supposed she might prefer a female healer. Once she made it clear she had no preference, they got along swimmingly. He spent quite some time on her ribs pressing around and under then declared himself satisfied that no internal organs seemed to have suffered.

The same could not be said about her hip and leg. There were a few places where his careful prodding resulted in gasps and curses on her part. Just her luck that it was the right leg too.

"Where could I acquire more of this tape?"

"It's - um - no, you cannot buy it around here."

"No doubt, no doubt, but this is a marvelous invention, very useful."

He was at first wary of the brightly colored strips until he understood how they would work to bind and support muscles and joints. Then he could not wait to use them for anything and everything.

"It's still a no. We have quite a lot of this because I always had some joint problems, but once it's finished that's it. We won't have any more."

"But if it can be bought -"

"It cannot. Not here."

"Maybe the elves your husband knew?"

"Not from the elves either."

"Just like your clothing, my lady? And everything else in your bag?" She never expected to fool them about her being different, but wasn't sure what to say. In her mind, the less people knew about her circumstances, the better, so she said nothing. "Does Thorin know?"

"Yes, he knows everything."

He nodded in response and let her be. Yeva was impressed despite herself. She wasn't sure she would have had the patience to wait for the answer to a mystery to reveal itself. No, that wasn't true: she was sure she would have continued to plague the poor unfortunate with less than subtle hints and wouldn't have let go until she knew it all.

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Later in the evening, Thorin asked to talk to her for a few moments.

"Gandalf gave me the map and the key. I believe he was somewhat disappointed by my lack of surprise," an air of smugness settled around him.

"Right, I completely forgot about that."

"We'll be continuing to Rivendell."

"Okay," she shrugged. She would go wherever they were going. Adventuring in Middle Earth was hardly her preference, but Thorin did need… somebody. She was curious too, although that was now tempered by bruises and wrenched shoulders, but more than that she meant what she said the day before: she cared about him and didn't want him to die. Thorin was looking at her with a frown, bushy eyebrows close together.

"You could remain there, you know that."

"Stay with the elves?! No!" The idea was preposterous. The dwarves near the fire stopped whatever they were doing and were now looking at them with unconcealed interest, she thought. Before her too loud exclamation they were only sneaking glances - a concealed interest as it were.

"You know what is likely to happen. I cannot guarantee your safety."

"I - No. I won't stay with the elves. And you don't have a burglar. We'll have to talk about this at some point."

Thorin continued to look at her for a few moments and Yeva felt herself beginning to squirm. This will not do! She had seen many sides of him, though apparently not all. She was being treated to the leader of people, the guy who determined someone's worthiness with a look. She smiled at the absurdity of it all, which was a good thing. Thorin would leave her behind if she doubted herself, she knew that with utmost certainty.

"I won't be staying with elves and that's that."

"Very well. Should I show Lord Elrond the map?"

"You should, Thorin, undoubtedly. I would if I were you!"

"We already know what it says," he frowned. He probably found her enthusiasm for meeting with Elrond at odds with her refusal to remain a guest in the elf lord's house.

"The thing is, we don't actually know what's going to happen. We don't know anything for certain. Maybe you'll find out the writing on the map is exactly as described in the storybook. But what if it isn't? There was no Yeva in the story, after all."

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The next order of business was for Thorin to explain what had happened to him, where he went and how he got back.

Yeva listened keenly, making sure to have her eyes firmly trained on the ground and a hand over her mouth. She could spin a story with the best of them, but she could not tell a lie to save her life. She would go along with whatever Thorin wished to be known to the others.

Thorin kept everything simple and to the point: he entered a door with a sign, but then he found himself in a storm and a flood took him to Yeva's home. She rescued him, apparently putting herself in great danger, then nursed him back to health. When the time came he started on his way back. In an unfortunate accident, the magical forest swallowed them both and Yeva was now stuck on this side until she found the way back.

The dwarves must have expected something more interesting, Yeva thought, because they all looked rather disappointed. Ori was the only one who asked where exactly Yeva's home was. "Far south," was all he got from Thorin and he nodded and scribbled something down on a piece of parchment.

Gandalf was a different kettle of a fish. He was suspicious and clearly thought they were both lying through their teeth.

Thorin then called everybody to attention with talk about a new contract for the company. "All who follow me will receive up to and not exceeding one fourteenth of half of the total profits (if any). New information has come to light that our quest is more difficult than we first supposed."

They didn't like it at all. Why, were they wondering, if the journey will have them face more perils, should the pay be less? Thorin was having none of it: he was the leader and he knew better. He considered all of them friends and was pleased to have them all with him, but he owed them no explanation.

"Fourteen? Why fourteen? Who is the fourteenth?" Dwalin was determined to be a little prick, as far as Yeva could see.

"Lady Yeva," Thorin replied in a tone that should have quelled any other question. It did not. The dwarves cared not at all that she was present to hear their less than enthusiastic opinion about her joining the quest. And even if she would accompany them, seeing as she was under their leader's protection, why would she be entitled to an equal share of the spoils?

It was going to degenerate into a shouting match, she could feel it; another approach was in order.

"Aye, master Dwalin," she drawled, "I already told Thorin that a woman of my talents should be left to decide on what her payment might be at her discretion." That brought them up short and they all peered at her from beneath their eyebrows.

"And what talents are those?" Dwalin flicked his eyes over Yeva and scowled. "How many days did you say Thorin spent at your house?"

To their credit, most of the dwarves looked uncomfortable with Dwalin's questioning and Yeva could see a vein pulsing at Thorin's temple.

"I am a threat and defense analyst." There was a moment's pause during which the dwarves didn't know what to make of what she said.

"A what?"

Bless you, Kíli. "I look at the things people would like to protect and the steps they already took towards their goal and then advise them on what they should change if anything." Dwalin laughed outright, but again, some of the rest were willing to hear what she had to say. "Let me give you an example," she said, searching through her pack. "Too bad we don't have more light."

She started to draw. "This is your mountain - Erebor." She drew a triangle. "And this is your treasure." She drew round shapes for the coins. "And finally, this is your dragon." A long neck lizard-like shape appeared on top of the coins.

"Say you manage to kill it, although I have my doubts. We'll talk about it later, that's why I'm here."

The dwarves shifted closer to her, paying attention now.

"You will be left with a mountain of gold guarded by a garrison of thirteen. Fourteen if I too make it that far. The question is - what happens next?"

"Why, we have our kingdom restored, lass." They looked at her like she was dim or crazy; most likely both.

"I'm way past lassiness, my good dwarf, I am a woman grown. But let's go back to your mountain. Should anybody attack you after you kill the dragon, how many days would you be able to defend yourselves?"

"Attack us?!" She had no idea they could be so loud. The exclamations of disbelief and professions of fighting to the last drop of blood in defense of their treasure went on and on and on.

"Enough!"

Yes, Thorin, it's about time you spoke up.

"Once the dragon is gone everybody will know the treasure is unguarded. Some will think it worth their while to challenge us, I have no doubt."

"Especially because you have no army," Yeva added.

"An army would be spotted, Lady Yeva. It would have no chance of making it to the mountain undetected."

"Is that what you believe, Gandalf?"

The wizard nodded, probably not liking her tone.

"Then tell us more about how thirteen dwarves deal with a living, breathing dragon," she challenged. She saw him starting to turn back to his place further away from the squabbling company. "You have to answer. You have to tell us how to kill the dragon. What is the plan?"

"I say the dragon can be killed and that ought to be enough for all of you!" Gandalf seemed to have grown somewhat and his eyes were blazing at her. The dwarves might be in awe of the wizard, but she was not.

"There is no plan. I don't care for your methods, though I understand your reasons. I'll even help you search for the blasted rin - uh - thing. I'll search for the thing!" Gandalf's mouth was set in a fierce scowl. Yep, she better keep her mouth shut for the foreseeable future.

She took a breath and turned toward Dwalin. "I'm here to advise. However, unlike our good wizard, I do not work on hope and trust. I'd rather see the contract first, I'm sure you understand."

Dwalin did seem to understand as he voiced no more objections. She on the other hand did not. She told Thorin that she would come and she had been honest in her offer of help. Friends help friends, no promise of payment was needed. To be completely honest, she was kind of disappointed: did Thorin think she would do a better, more thorough job if she was promised cash?

In the end it didn't matter. This is what Thorin decided and she'd not raise a fuss.

Nothing else was said, except by Balin who agreed to rewrite everything. The company would have until the morning to make up their minds. Thorin assured them that he would be sorry to see some of them go back, but would not hold it against them, the circumstances being what they were.

The next day they all continued on. They were in it as much for the gold as for the honor to free their home from the dragon. Yeva liked that.

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They did not sing or tell stories that evening. Nor the next day, nor the day after. They had begun to feel that danger was not far away on either side. They camped under the stars, and their horses had more to eat than they had; for there was plenty of grass, but there was not much in their bags, even with what they had got from the trolls.

She had found a few more cereal bars in a backpack pocket and Thorin insisted that she kept all of them and her coffee tea for herself. The dwarves would make do with boiled beans. She felt a little guilty, but only a little. Grains, even sweetened grains, were not their idea of gourmet food and none of them wished to even try, except for Ori.

Bombur was not sure about her 'special flour', so they didn't use that either. No matter, his bean stew was good and filling, if a little salty for her taste.

Ori was an interesting character, probably the most different from the film. For one he was much older than either Fíli or Kíli. For another, he did not look or act like the shy young man she expected. He too was a warrior, albeit one with an academic bent. He was interested in history and legends and he was always available to speak with her, answering her questions or instructing her in dwarven life and customs.

The first day was not so bad, probably because she was too tired and sore to care. Fíli and Kíli were charged with her transportation. The company didn't have a spare pony for her use and even if there had been one, she didn't know how to ride. The only option was to ride with one of them. Oin recommended she not sit astride for a few days and Thorin ordered them to keep her sideways.

It might have been romantic on TV, but the reality of it was entirely different; not that she expected otherwise. The ponies were small, the saddles were not large enough for two people, and yes, Yeye, the doctor was right: you need to lose those ten kilos, if not more. Especially around her middle, bottom, and thighs. It was depressing.

And it was awkward to clutch at Thorin's nephews; she didn't know them and they didn't know her. She also didn't know how much she could talk about her world, since Thorin didn't seem to offer any details. It seemed a good idea at first, but now she was not so sure. There seemed to be an embargo on every subject she could think of; it made her anxious not to say more than she ought and sulky for being so lonely while never having even a minute alone.

It did nothing to endear her to them or them to her.

Gandalf rode with them, always a little way away. Sometimes well ahead, other times at the front near Thorin, but never really a member of the group. Just like her, she thought, although there was no comfort in this. Thorin too was distant, hardly ever speaking and rarely with her.

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