A/N Just a quick note to help clarify. The company has just escaped the goblin king and they have not been chased by Azog...yet.

Chapter 6: The Fourth Encounter: Part I

The tremors that coursed through his body as the adrenaline of escaping the nest of goblins became less and less with each passing hour. It was more of a numbing sensation now, but it still took a great amount of effort to try and keep from letting others see that his hands were still shaking.

It had been too close. And it was only thanks to Gandalf's sudden appearance that they were safe.

Once again, Thorin was beginning to feel doubt.

Already they had been nearly eaten by trolls, hunted by orcs, and captured by a swarm of goblins. With each incident they had been saved by someone else. With the trolls it had been Asha and her two girls along with Gandalf's timely arrival that had saved them. Then with the orcs it was Radagast's decoy and Elrond's people they had been able to outrun the orcs. And just now with the goblins, it was Gandalf again.

Perhaps Elrond had been right. Perhaps Asha had been right. This quest was a futile attempt with such a small group.

He took a moment to look back at the lagging group following behind him. They looked shaken and a bit battered, but thankfully nothing too serious. A few bruises and some minor abrasions that would heal with time.

The biggest worry was the lack of supplies they now had. They had their weapons and a few of them had managed to grab a few additional supplies but it would not be enough to go around let alone last the rest of the journey. Which brought him to their next problem.

They were in wild country now. There were far and few settlements that lay between them and the mountain on this side of the Misty Mountains. It was possible there were some he did not know of but he did not like the idea of wandering into a settlement that was unfamiliar. And the ones he did have knowledge of, he was not willing to enter in. This left him in a tight predicament.

He looked ahead to continue guiding his men but only made it a few more meters when he suddenly stopped.

Something was not right. It was too quiet, too still.

He strained his ears and again was struck by the stillness. Not a rustle of a birds wings or the chirping of a cricket.

He raised his arm, calling everyone to a halt.

Without giving a verbal command, Thorin signaled to his men with his hands to prepare themselves. He could see the alarm in their eyes. Having just barely escaped the swarm, he could tell that they were already too exhausted to fight again without any food or rest in between. But he was proud of their willingness to at least try.

Everything was still as they all grouped closer together. Again the silence and stillness of the wooded area caused Throin's hair to stand on end. He ignored the shiver that yearned to pass down his body and swallowed with great difficulty as his pulse thundered against his throat.

Silence bore down on them. Thorin was just beginning to think he would suffocate under its stifling heaviness, when a sharp whistle sounded.

It was crisp and seemed to echo throughout the otherwise silent wilderness. As the whistle faded into the distance, it fell silent for a moment, and then, the bushes moved.

Rustling filled his ears as leaves and branches began to move all around them. Compared to the earlier stillness it sounded like the thundering of a waterfall plunging into a rocky surface below.

He searched the perimeter, looking for a direction in which they could retreat but figures from all around emerged from the underbrush. Cloaked in forest green cloth, it was as if they had been part of the actual forest.

Thorin quickly spun around.

There were eighteen of them of them, all varying in height and mass. Their faces were covered in a similar dark green cloth that covered the lower half of each of their faces. Only their eyes were visible and within each pair, there was a menacing threat.

"Well, well, well," came a male voice in a mocking tone.

Thorin followed the sound to a figure to his left.

He was of average size for a dwarf. The moment Thorin turned to face the man who had spoken, the man's light brown eyes, tinged with green were drawn to him. Despite the fact that man's mouth was covered, he could tell by the way the cloth shifted upwards, the man was smiling at him.

"Prince Thorin of Erebor. Never would have thought I would see you looking so ragged like pedler."

Thorin narrowed his eyes trying to recollect any familiarity.

"Do I know you?"

The man slowly lifted his hand and pulled down his mask, revealing a heavily marred face. Thorin had not noticed at first, but now that the larger part of the scars were revealed, the deep gashes that ran from the corner of his eyes down to his jaw line were all Thorin could focus on.

Each side of his face bore four marks. It looked as if something had tried to gouge his eyes out and resisted to be pulled away.

When he finally managed to look past the scars, Thorin took in the topography of his face. He took in the shape of his nose and the red hair that made up the patchy beard that had been disrupted in growth by his scars. Despite the familiarity in which the man addressed him, Thorin was positive he did not know this man. He would have remembered such a face with distinct markings.

"Framir," came another man's voice to Thorin's right. "Keep your tongue silenced."

Thorin watched Framir scowl in the mans direction but he said nothing more. Looking to the man who had just spoken, Thorin looked him up and down. He too was obviously dwarven. Perhaps not quite as large as Dwalin, but he would definitely give his warrior friend a good enough beating. The man stepped forward and like his comrade, removed the cloth covering his face and lowered his hood.

Dark brown hair was tied back away from his face. A short beard grew on his face with the occasional grey hair to lighten its color. His grey eyes wandered around the company of Thorin, taking in and assessing each member with calculation. It was obvious that this man was in charge of the group. The way the others shifted every once in a while as if looking for some sort of signal or gesture that would give a command.

"What is the meaning of this?" Thorin demanded when he felt they had been examined enough. "We have nothing of value within our possession."

Thorin caught Bilbo shift oddly from the corner of his eye as the hobbit grasped at his side pocket. But the movement was not enough to cause any more attention so he focused fully on the grey eyed man.

"However," he continued, "we still have our weapons, so it would be best if you just let us be on our way and find someone more defenseless and wealthy to prey upon."

The man's thin lips split open to reveal a row of straight white teeth with a single flaw that manifested as a small gap between his left cuspids. It gave him a roguish look as he let out a small chuckle. With their leader's example, Thorin heard a few others let out soft chuckles.

"We are not bandits seeking money, nor do we prey on the defenseless," the man answered.

"Then what are you?" asked Thorin. "And why do you stop us? We have not been hostile to you in anyway nor do we pose a threat. We are merely passing through. You have no reason一"

"You are trespassing within outlands," the man replied, cutting Thorin off. "That is reason enough to stop you and treat you as a threat."

Thorin crumpled his brow in confusion. "There are no borders in this area," he objected. "These lands are neutral, unowned. They belong to no one. We have every right to pass through them."

The man clucked his tongue. "Perhaps these lands have no definite border, but at the moment they belong to us for whatever temporary time they will be needed. Because of this I cannot allow you to pass through so freely."

Thorin gritted his teeth. He did not have time to waste taking detours. But it seemed by the time he would finish speaking with this man, they would waste just as much or perhaps more.

"Then where do you borders end?" Thorin growled. "We will go around."

The man smirked and Thorin knew that whatever humor the man was hosting, it would be at their expense.

"I am afraid that is impossible," he replied. "You have already entered our lands. By our rules, no one outside of our faction is allowed to leave without permission of our leader."

"And who exactly would that be?" Dwalin growled as he took a step forward. "We will not go so willingly with you. Do not assume we will not fight."

Dwalin's comments only caused the man to smirk more as his grey eyes raked over the group again.

"I do not doubt that," he said casually. "But we outnumber you eighteen to your fourteen."

Thorin looked at him in confusion. The man was mistaken in his calculation, there were fifteen in his company. While that still left them outnumbered, it made a difference in their odds.

Thorin looked around at the group. As his eyes roved around his hundled men, he realized to his annoyance that the man was in fact correct. There were only fourteen of them. Gandalf was mysteriously absent...again.

Thorin cursed the wizard under his breath in Khuzdul. When he turned back around it was obvious that the leader of the group had caught his moment of frustration.

"You look weary," the man said. "I will tell you what, surrender your weapons to us willingly and we will let you walk back to our encampment. Fight, and you will find yourself hog tied and dragged. The choice is yours."

Thorin looked to Dwalin. His friend looked ready to fight, but he could tell by the way he failed to fully raise his axe that the man would not be up for his usual potential. He looked to the rest of the group and saw the same thing in others. Kili had yet to even pull his bow string back, Fili had his lighter knives at the ready instead of swords, and Gloin's axe had yet to be lifted. They all had the willingness to fight within their eyes but their bodies sagged.

He glanced around the group surrounding them, taking note that some of these masked figures where not just dwarves. Two men stood on either side of Frimar, and next to the leader, stood another taller being with the unmistakable features of an elf on the small visible portion of his face and ears. He looked back to Dwalin and gave him a small look that conveyed his decision.

Comply now, fight later.

They were allowed to walk into the camp themselves but that did not mean their captors made it easy. With their hands bound tightly behind their backs they were herded like sheep through the wilderness. Stumbling across branches and hidden roots that occasional broke the earth, they were led for a half mile southeast until they finally arrived at their captors so called camp.

Thorin knew they had arrived before he had caught a glimpse of anything that looked like an encampment.

As they crossed over a small stream, a horn sounded in the distance which was then echoed by three heavy thuds of a drum. While the beat of the drum still echoed in his ears, they breached the underbrush into a large clearing. What they were greeted with was far beyond what Thorin had imagined.

Camp was an understatement for what they had just walked upon. It was a city of tents. Filling the entirety of the clearing. Surrounding the edge of the forest was a wooden barricade of sharpened pikes to serve as a temporary defense wall.

Smoke rose up above the canvis dwellings from various campfires. The sounds of clashing swords, the thud of arrows, banging of pots, and loud shouts filled his ears. They had not just walked into a camp for eighteen men. They had walked in on the temporary fortress of a small army. The mass of it easily hosting two hundred soldiers.

As they stood on a raised cliff looking over the camp, Thorin turned to what he could only assume was the captain of the group. His grey eyes where already looking it him as he took in the astonished look on Thorin's face.

"Who are you?" Thorin managed to ask, his tone just barely above a whisper as he still struggled to process the sight before him. "Who are all of you?"

The captain looked him over before replying.

"My name is Habard," he gestured around to the camp spread out below them. "And we, are the Guild of the Lost."

Thorin felt his eyes widened. Of all the fates for him to befall how was it that he just happened to come across exactly what he needed. Thorin let a prayer rise up to Mahal in gratitude.

"You know of us?" Habard asked as he noticed the recognition in Thorin's eyes.

Thorin nodded.

"I have heard things. I heard whispers that you could possibly help us."

He heard a chuckle and looked at the man called Framir. As he saw the man laughing, Thorin was struck with a sudden familiarity. However, he had more important things to focus on so he ignored the scarred faced man.

Thorin looked back to Habard.

"You can try," Habard said with a tone of doubtfulness. "But you will be lucky enough to even get your free passage to cross our borders." Habard began to walk down the sloped trail that led to the camp. "Follow me."

Thorin watched him in confusion for a moment before he felt a nudge on his back. He turned to see Framir looking at him with a menacing sneer.

"Move it Durin," he snapped.

Habard led them through a breach in the barricade that served as a front gate, then waded through the sea of tents towards the center of the camp.

As they walked through, Fili took in their surroundings.

It was impressive. A wide assortment of dwarves of all ages and even a few other races were mixed in. Fili saw several men in a group with the occasional elf walking in the crowd. He even caught a glimpse of another hobbit dueling with a dwarf in a small arena while spectators cheered from the side.

They were all going about various activities. Cooking, sparring, gambling, there was even a temporary blacksmith built where several men and a dwarrowmaid were busy working. Each person they passed stopped their task to curiously watch the group being lead through their camp.

Fili ignored most of the stares but there was one he could not help but look towards. He could feel the person's eyes on him like a heated wind brushing up against his skin. The sensation caused him to cast a quick glance to his left. The moment he looked over to the sparring ring he was drawn to a set of familiar dark eyes.

Standing next to the arena, leaning against a fence post, was Thyra. Her arms were folded across her chest while one foot was propped up against the lowest rail as she watched them closely.

When he made eye contact and the surprise of recognition came to his face, a crooked smile formed on her lips. Her onyx eyes gleamed with amusement as she watched him being forcefully corralled with his hands bound and feet stumbling.

Before he could react, a large cart being pulled by two rams passed by, obstructing his view for a moment. When his view of the fighting circle was brought back, Fili found the spot where she had been standing was empty. He paused for a moment, searching for any sign of her before one of the guards shoved him forward and barked at him to keep moving.

"What is wrong?" Kili asked quietly when he noticed the disturbed look on his brothers face.

He kept his voice low and barely moved his lips in an attempt to avoid unwanted attention from the guards.

Fili was unsure of whether or not to tell his brother. Perhaps it had just been his imagination. Despite what their past history would indicate of the likelihood, it was just too much of a coincidence.

Deciding it had to be his imagination, Fili shook his head.

"It was nothing," he said, keeping the frustration out of his voice.

He saw his brother continue to watch him for a time before finally looking forward when he stumbled on a loose rock. Fili was feeling on edge now. Whether he had truly seen her or not, he did not like it. It was bad enough being in her actual presence only a few times, now his mind was seeing her even when she was not there.

As they made their way through the maze of tents, they were eventually led to the center of the camp where a square framed tent was set up. Covering it was several cured animal skins and fabric that had been stitched together and laid over the frame to make up four walls that met together in a slanted roof. A few people drifted in and out of the front flap but the traffic stopped at their approach.

When Habard reached the central tent, Thorin watched as the captain approached the tent and entered. Thorin moved to follow but the two guards standing at the door stepped forward to block his entry.

Thorin narrowed his eyes at them.

He was beginning to become annoyed at the treatment of himself and his men. They had complied and given their weapons up freely only to be bound and corralled like cattle. Now they were being denied immediate audience and as a result, delaying departure to return to his quest.

A moment later the captain pulled open the tent flap and laid a hand on each of the guards shoulders.

"You will have an audience with our leader who will decide if you will be granted to leave or not. You will also be open to contest for aid in whatever it is that you want. I suggest you treat our leader with the utmost respect, we do not tolerate rudeness nor prejudice within our camp," he said warning tone.

"Why would you assume I would not be respectful?" Thorin asked.

Habard smirked slightly in response but said nothing. He merely turned and walked into the tent as he beckoned for him to follow.

Thorin was left with no choice but to follow. Behind him, his men followed along with a few of their guards, one of them being Framir, but the rest dispersed to go about their other duties.

Coming from the bright afternoon light of day into the darkened tent, Thorin found himself momentarily blinded. The adjustment to the darker light was slow. But as he walked further into the tent and was able to take in its housings.

It was crowded with bodies. Several rows of long benches lined each side, creating a pathway down the middle. Dwarves male and female, sat crowded on the benches along with a few humans, and elves. Behind the rows of benches, another row of onlookers were standing.

It was as if the entire camp had attempted to fit itself within the tent. Every inch was occupied except a small path in the center leading to the back. Thorin looked down the small aisle to see where it would lead but he could only see the broad back of Habard.

Habard stopped halfway and brought his arm to his chest.

"We found trespassers on the north western border," he said with a quick half bow.

Then he moved to the side to allow Thorin to see whom he had been addressing.

Thorin's eyes opened wide and a sinking feeling fell into his stomach.

Before him was a large, throne like chair sitting on a raised dais. Sitting in the chair, dressed in a loose cotton dress and a green vest, was Asha.

Suddenly everything made sense. All the warnings Habard had given and the doubt he expressed. Even Gandalf's earlier conversation with Elrond about being unsure given recent events.

It was because he knew. He knew Asha was a member.

No, not a member, Thorin noted. She was the leader.

Asha was the leader of the Guild and the infuriating wizard failed to mention any of it.

Thorin looked at Framir a little more closely and suddenly it dawned on him.

Those scars that marred his face, claw marks, put there by goblins. He took in the familiar shade of red hair and hazel eyes and cursed himself for not realizing it sooner.

Queen Hava had a brother, that brother had a son, and his name was Framir. This was Asha's cousin making him a Brimir. It was then that the extensive reality truly hit him. They had just found the survivors that had been sealed away within Dhom.

Thorin tried to keep this tidal wave of information from shattering his already shaken mind as he looked back to Asha.

While her clothes were simple, there was something regal and powerful about her as she looked at him. Her eyes shone with authority and as he stood before her, he felt more like the simple blacksmith than the king he was entitled to be. She may have given up her true name and while she claimed that the royal family of the Brimir line was ended, she still exuded a royal aura. She was a queen without a crown.

Asha was leaned back with her legs crossed and arms draped over the armrests of her chair. But the moment she recognized the group before her, she adjusted her posture.

Her body leaned forward as her hands curled around the edge of the armrests.

Habard came up to her and whispered quietly into her ear. As he finished she nodded and he stepped back.

Asha's eyes moved slowly over the congregation of the room. Thorin could see her mind working behind her observant face. When she finally settled her attention on him, he saw a wisp of softness that he once always saw in those eyes.

Then they hardened.

"Thorin Oakenshield," she began in a taunting tone. "Or once known as the Prince of Erebor. But it seems you now hunger for the title of King."

At her words of naming both prince and place, a rumbling wave of whispers flowed through the tent. Most of them surprised reactions to the news of reclaiming Erebor, but a few were angry and bitter cursings of the Durin name. Asha lifted a casual hand for silence and immediately the tent stilled.

"Habard tells me he found you on our northwestern borders," she stated as her finger casually traced the lines of the armrest of her wooden chair. Her eyes then flashed up to Thorin as she paused in her drawing. "He also said you expressed a desire to ask for aid the moment he revealed what our establishment was."

"You are the leader of the guild?" he said, doing his best to keep his voice normal as he still struggled to recover from his stunned state.

"So you have yet to give up on this fantasy of slaying a dragon and reclaiming the lonely mountain?" She asked, ignoring his question.

Thorin took a step forward.

"I would never give up the chance to reclaim my home," Thorin said firmly.

"Then you realized that your numbers were too small then. And you thought you would call on the aid of strangers to do the impossible?" she let her statement linger in the air before adding an inquiry. "Why not call upon your own kin?"

Thorin shifted uneasily.

"Dain has denied my request, he says I must possess the Arkenstone before he will help."

Asha cocked her head to the side as she prossed this information. All the while, Thorin tried and struggled to decipher what she was thinking. This personification she was displaying was unfamiliar, almost unrecognizable to the Asha he knew.

Slowly he watched as one of her thin eyebrows raised inquisitively.

"Your own blood will not help so you came to ask me?"

"I did not know that it was you that I would be asking," he clarified.

"Does it make a difference that it is me?"

"No," he replied instantly.

He then shifted on his feet as he worked his mind. Gandalf said he needed diplomacy to convince the leader of the Guild. Therefore, if he wanted this to be a success, he had to do this diplomatically.

"I know our families did not get along in the past. But you and I once thought we could breach those differences," he began but quickly continued when he saw her face became slightly pinched at his words. "I know I wronged you, I have regretted my words and actions many times, but this is not about what happened between two people. This is about regaining a home that would house thousands. Our kind deserve better than what they have been forced to do. Would you truly deny someone a chance to go home? Would you not do the same?"

Asha let her eyes move across the planes of his pleading face. But then she let them fall back down to her armrest where she went back to her tracing the grained lines of her chair.

"Tell me Thorin," she began in an inquisitive tone. "How did it feel to be trapped and swarmed within a mountain full of goblins?"

Thorin did not say a word. He was too surprised of her knowledge in what they had just gone through. How could she have known they had been captured? Had the guild been watching them long before they passed into their boundaries? Or did the Great Goblin's message of their capture spread that quickly across the land?

When Thorin failed to answer her question due to his ponderings, Asha looked back up at him, her eyes sharp and calculating.

"You reek of them," she said, answering his unvoiced questions. "We have been stationed here for three months trying to clear out that nest. And given your appearance, I can only assume that you came across them while passing through the mountains from Rivendell."

At first Thorin was surprised again but then he remembered Thyra and Sigurd had been in Rivendell at the same time. And he was willing to bet the entire treasury of Erebor that they were currently present within the confines of this camp as well.

Thorin nodded.

"Aye, that we did. And as you can see we just barely made it out. It was this event that I have realized my quest would be better executed with more numbers. And it is why I am asking for your help now."

When Asha did not immediately respond Thorin spoke again.

"Should we be successful, all will be well paid. As you know, Erebor has no shortage in gold. Name your price and it is yours."

Asha stared at him. He could see her mind working behind her eyes as they moved from him to the congregation, to the rest of the group. Finally her eyes moved down to her tracing finger.

"Did you know that goblins like their meat fresh?"

The moment her question was asked her eyes flashed back up to him, darkened with haunt and searching for a reaction.

She pointed to Framir.

"They tried to rip out my cousins eyes before he managed to free himself."

Her hand moved to a woman with blonde hair that was shaved on one side. She was wearing a simple tunic with the left sleeve cut off and sewn shut because there was no arm to fill it.

"Porda was kept in a cage, they cut off her arm when they grew hungry. And they were about to take the other when the others being held within the cage revolted. She was the only one who made it free."

She pointed to herself.

"I watched my mother tied to a post as they cut the meat from her body. She was still alive when they ripped out her tongue. I still remember the way she tried to scream but the blood that ran down her throat kept the air from leaving her lungs. She suffocated to death, drowned by her own blood."

A shiver ran down Thorin's back as the images played into his mind.

The horrors that those people had to live with. He himself had his own nightmares but after her descriptions, he felt as though his memories would be a pleasant dream for them.

Her finger then pointed to him.

"I sent a messenger to Erebor. My father told him to go to the Iron Hills but I told him to go to Erebor. I told him that it would be closer and that you would find a way to help. I told him you would not put hatred before the value of innocents."

There was a heavy pause in the air as Asha swallowed deeply. Thorin had heard a slight tremor building in her voice but when she spoke again, her voice was steady and empty of any emotion.

"The day after I calculated your arrival was the day they broke past our last defense. It was then I realized, Erebor was not coming. Our home became the host to our nightmares," she paused and Thorin could not find it in himself to look directly at her. "Tell me Thorin, why should we help you regain your home when you would not help us keep ours?"

A hot lump of guilt had formed in his throat. He remembered that messenger. He remembered the man who begged for his unstable grandfather to help. He remembered the way he stood silently while the messenger had been dragged away to the dungeons.

"I wanted to," Thorin replied in a strained voice. "I was the one who sent the message to King Gror after Thrór sent your man to the dungeons. It is no secret anymore of my grandfathers...sickness," he hesitated to diagnose the ailment with anything else. "He would not have helped anyone. By that time it did not matter if they held the name Brimir or Durin, they were all his enemies."

There was a shifting of people behind him and a sliver of sunlight appeared and disappeared.

All eyes and bodies, including Thorin, turned around to see the newcomer.

Gandalf looked around the enclosure, his eyes landing on Thorin where he stood before Asha. Giving a polite smile to those before him, the group parted to let the grey clothed man waded through the crowd to the front.

"Have I missed the vote?" he asked plainly, as if what they had been discussing previously was nothing more serious than the unusually mild spring they had been experiencing.

Thorin looked to Gandalf in confusion. Then he looked to Asha.

"Vote?"

"We here at the guild vote when it comes to decisions like these. We have an elected council that all vote," she replied before looking back to Gandalf. "Only a third of the council are present. We will not be able to cast a vote until two weeks time."

"I cannot wait that long," Thorin objected. "Time is precious."

"Then I guess you wasted that precious time coming here to ask." She answered callously. "Because the vote cannot be made unless two thirds of us can be represented."

"I believe it is the way of your people, that if immediate action is to be taken, then the decision can be put onto you…" Gandalf trailed off as a frown fell upon Asha's face.

Asha looked around at the gathering, taking in the mixed expressions.

Only a small portion of the population within the guild was from the original group that escaped Dhom, and of those few, even fewer where of Brimir blood.

The rest of their populace, they had gathered and joined over the decades. Human's from Dale, that had suffered from the wrath of Smaug as he made his way to Erebor. Halflings that had left their cozy holes in search of a more adventurous life. There were Elves that had deserted their tranquil home lands. They even had dwarves that had originated from Erebor within their group.

All of them had their different reasons for being here, but they all had one purpose in which they worked and fought for. Ridding the world of evil so others could live better.

But as she looked around, she could see the distaste in their eyes. The Durin's of Erebor had done well to gain many enemies in the world. While she knew most of this was not to be blamed on Thorin, it was part of his inheritance. The resentment of those wronged by his grandfather.

But she could also see the want in many of her people's eyes. They wanted to aid Thorin in his quest. And she did not blame them, most of these desires eyes belonged to those who originated from Erebor. Those who originated elsewhere but still held that desire, wanted it because it was part of the pledge they took when joining the guild.

To aid those who called for it.

They were a mixed group but all believed in that purpose and all had sworn words when they joined the guild. If they did not, then they were dismissed. It was just one of the many rules that had been established amongst the Guild members. It was what ensured complete cooperation.

But among those who wanted to help, there were plenty with opposing opinions.

If she were honest with herself, she too had her own reserved hesitation. She could not command those lacking in desire nor ask them to do such a thing even if she was not completely willing.

Her heart still beat for the man that was standing before her and she resented its treachery for acting in such a way.

It begged her to say yes, but she kept her mask on. It was the one thing that helped her bare the burden of having to live on after seeing so many of her loved ones die. The stoney shell she had made kept her broken heart pieces from falling onto the ground.

Thorin looked around as well and his heart sank. He could tell by many of the expressions within the tent that they all hoped Asha would deny his request. He looked to Asha herself and found a stoic face that was unreadable. He did his best not to shift or flinch when her eyes moved about the silent room. Everyone had grown still as they awaited Asha's response.

"Leave us," she commanded.

Noise erupted as the creaking of benches and shuffling of feet filled the air as all those present moved together in a mass exodus from the tent. The obedience to her words was nearly unbelievable as they all left without a single word of protest. When the tent flap fell closed only the small company and Asha remained. Despite the lack of people, the room still felt unbearably crowded as silence filled the empty spaces that had been earlier filled with solid bodies.

Asha looked to Gandalf with a glower.

"How dare you."

Gandalf's lifted a brow.

"I beg your pardon?"

Asha stood from her chair, her fists clenched as she stood, She was still a head shorter than the wizard, even with the extra height of the dais, but she held herself well enough that made an impact.

"How dare you put that decision upon me! You cannot expect me to ask that of them."

"Is it not the purpose of the guild?"

Asha's jaw tightened.

"Everything has an exception," she growled. "This is too personal."

"For you or them?" challenged Gandalf.

Asha hesitated then opened her mouth to reply but was halted when Thorin stepped forward.

"Asha," he said pleadingly. "I know I wronged you. I know my people wronged your's. But please...I will pay you anything...I will even help you in return to reclaim and rebuild Dhoー"

"I have no desire to ever set my eyes upon that place, let alone set foot inside that which became my own personal hell."

There was no facade of the utter loathing in her voice. It was pure truth, she did not need to pretend.

"That place stopped being my home the moment I watched the daylight being blocked away by the landslide covering the doorways."

Her eyes burned as angry tears formed and she fought to swallow them down.

"I thought you had come when I heard the first collapse. I thought someone had come to save us. I heard the second collapse coming from the west end and rejoiced that our saviors had breached two sides of the stronghold. But then I watched as the entrance before me collapsed and I was consumed by darkness. It was then I realized no one was coming."

Thorin opened his mouth to say something, but she lifted a hand for him to keep silent. Turning around, she walked towards the back end of the dais. She paused, keeping her back to him and head turned slightly. Not enough to look at him, but enough to ensure he would hear her clearly.

"Give me time to think," she said quietly. "Habard will show you the mess hall where you will find yourselves some food and drink."

Without waiting for a response, she took a step down and exited the tent from a flap located on the back. Thorin looked at Gandalf.

"I think that went quite well," Gandalf said happily.

Thorin furrowed his eyebrows.

"And where did you disappear to earlier?"

Gandalf gave him an innocent smile.

"Nature called."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .