Animefreak112097: "This is interesting. What is the glass thing?"

First of all, thank you for reviewing! I'm going to leave the gift a bit obscure for now but it was a glass panel (like a decorative stand) with some Dwarvish runes engraved.

Ktime27: "Like the start, will they ever get along together?"

Thank you for the feedback! Hmmm. We'll just have to see, won't we. Haha!

Guest: "Yaaaassss! This just made my day a whole lot better! Does Nala sneak into the company? I can't wait for the next chapter"

Well here it is! Thank you so much. Simple reviews/comments are honestly what keeps me motivated when I've had a down day. This story won't be focusing around the company/quest but if you would like to read one that does, 'A Tale of Time' on my profile is complete if you haven't already read it. (251,000 words. Thorin/OC)

Chapter 7:

1 Year Later

Nala hummed to herself, brushing down the pony's body with a soft comb. The brown mare neighed deeply, bending its neck down to much away on the spring grass. They had received the good news nearly two months ago now; a letter from her brother. The quest had not gone quite as planned as she heard from both her brother and the gossip from places they travelled to.

Erebor had been reclaimed, and Smaug the Terrible had been slaughtered by a bowman. The letter had been the first she had heard from him since that morning he left with Thorin and Nala and her father waited an entire year. It was an agonising year for the both of them, their only comforts being each other. Nala loved her father, but he wasn't Bola. She wouldn't swap one out for the other, but she wanted both.

They were travelling to Erebor themselves. Nala had no idea if they intended to stay there, and most of the time, she wasn't sure if her father knew either. But there was no way they could not visit the once mighty Dwarf kingdom, to see what her brother helped reclaim. Bola had not told her anything about the other members of the company except that Bofur had also accompanied them and she was certain Thorin was alive from the way Bola referred to him. Nala had sent a letter back and at the time she wanted to ask about the lives of Thorin's nephews, but her quill hovered the page for so long that she developed a cramp. Part of her knew that Bola would have said something if any ill fate came to them, as he never had a problem with speaking to her in complete honesty.

"I'm going to check the traps!"

Nala smiled over her shoulder towards her father who was waving her off. "I'm praying for something other than rabbit," she jested, chuckling at her father's distant response of "me too." Satisfied that the ponies were as clean as they were going to get, Nala placed the brush back down in the small trunk of horse gear before hastily wiping her hands on her pants and running towards her bag.

Wikor had sent her a letter but she wanted to wait until all her jobs for the day were done so she could write her reply instantly. They were living on the outskirts of a small village currently, waiting for another band of Dwarves to come pass that were headed to Erebor as well. They were admittedly on the later side, many Dwarves risking the travel through winter right after the reclaiming but Nala and her father were on the wrong side of the Misty Mountains.

Nala teared the wax seal open which lacked any insignia pressed in. Her feet began to walk on their own as she read over the words, taking her back and forth along one line. Her lips mimed the words she read to herself, twitching every now and then as Wikor recounted his experience with an overly flirtatious female Dwarf than had come to stay in the town.

As she had revealed things to him, Wikor had offered her the same and revealed a few secrets that he had admitted had never left his mouth before. Too say Nala was a little shocked at one of them would be truthful but only because she had never heard of such a strange thing. But in an odd way it just made her like him more.

Finished reading, Nala hurries to her and her father's shared quill, ink and parchment supply and drafts out her letter. She barely pauses to think about the words which come all to naturally. She is sure he would already have heard, but Nala informs him of the reclaiming of Erebor, that she is travelling there and would love to see him there if he also wanted to visit. They hadn't had a chance to go to Horgan, his large town of oddities in a few years and it was too far south to make a detour from their destination of Erebor.

Smiling at her letter, she tucked it into a safe pocket on the inside of her jacket. She would go find the mail courier in the morning to have him send off the letter. It was hard enough for letters to be sent around Middle Earth but it was all well worth it when she got to read his response. Sometimes, as a strange guilty pleasure that she would never admit aloud, she pretended that the words were Fili's. Not that she wished Wikor was him instead, but her desire to write to the older Durin brother never ceased. At some times, she even found herself imagining sending a letter to Kili as well; just to ask him how he was doing.

Nala glanced up at the sound of footsteps returning, her lips beginning to pull into a smile, but it dimmed at her father's grave expression. She noted how his eyes scanned the foliage around them as though he is a suspicious deer who caught wind of the scent of a wolf.

"Da?"

Ganula's head snaps to her, his expression being exchanged for a strained smile. "Rabbit again unfortunately," he said, holding up the two rabbits that were strung by their feet. "Get a fire going, will you? I just want to go check something out."

Nala nodded silently, taking the rabbits from her father's hand as he strides past her. Her grey eyes stay trained on him, observing how he begins to wander around the perimeter of their camp. Nala finally lets her attention move back towards their future dinner, only sparingly looking around. Something has set him on edge, which she hasn't seen on him in many years. There was one time, around thirty years ago but nothing had come of it, but Bola had mimicked her father's defensiveness.

After twenty or so minutes, her father returns, no less relaxed. "Da?" she called out once more. "What is it?" Her father doesn't answer, instead marching over to their caravan, searching through their belongings. Her anxiousness grows and Nala pushes to her feet, jogging over to him. "Father, please tell me what you're are thinking," she begged, latching onto his shoulder.

Ganula turns, holding out her metal staff in one hand, his own sword in the other. "I want you to keep a hold of this for tonight." Nala stared wide-eyed at her staff but takes it. "You still have that knife your brother gave you." Nala nodded, reaching to the covered blade tucked into a small sheath at her waist. "Good. Keep it close."

He marches past her with his sword still drawn and Nala spins on the heel of her boots in disarray. "Father!" She ran after him as he made no acknowledgement to his call. She could feel her heart beginning to thud harshly against her chest. She gripped his free hand, forcing him to look at her. "Please! What is going on!"

Ganula glanced around the camp once more and Nala followed suit, just looking for any sign of what is off but there is nothing. "I'm sorry," he said eventually, more quietly than before. "I didn't want to tell you before since I knew it would change everything for you."

"Well right now you're scaring me and if you don't tell me then…" Her threat trailed off. Ganula gave her a tight smile and nod, understanding her determination but it dropped as he guided her over to the caravan once more, shielding their backs.

"We're not just traveling," her father hushed out, constantly looking around. "We're hiding."

"Hiding?" Nala gulped. "From what?"

Ganula's eyes settled on her. They were a warm brown, contoured by his thin lids which were decorated in sunspots and fine lines. She realised then that her father had not aged as well as other Dwarves. "The people who killed your mother."

No words had come to her mind. She knew her mother's death wasn't natural but to what extent it had been she was never told. Murdered. Her mother didn't just die, she was murdered.

"We thought they were all gone," her father continued. His free hand now latched onto her blouse in a grip so tight that the material could not shift on her skin. "He vowed to wipe out our family."

"Who!" Nala cried, desperately trying to make sense of her father's words.

"His name was Mikelo." He shook his head. "It's complicated and there is an entire history to our family that I haven't told you yet."

Nala's stomach lurched, her own eyes once again searching the perimeter. "And you think he's found us? Mikelo?"

Ganula shook his head. "No. He was killed by your great-grandfather. We thought his entire family was dead as well but we must have missed someone-" A snap of a branch cuts her father off and their heads snap in the direction of the dense foliage. Nala couldn't even hear her own breathing and for a moment she almost forgot that she needed to. "Stay here."

"No," she hissed. "Don't leave me Da."

"It's ok," he coaxed, squeezing her arm. "I'll go scare them off but get ready to move. We're not staying here tonight." Nala nodded, straightening her shoulders. She could listen to an order; she could be a soldier. "Prepare the horses first."

Nodding once more, Nala brushed past her father towards the ponies as he turned towards the sound of the branch snapping. The sword was still tightly gripped under his fingers, held ready to strike at a moment's notice. Nala's fingers shook slightly as she began buckling a bridle onto Mulbury, the leader of their small herd. It took her longer than she would have liked just to tie on the chin strap.

She couldn't shake the feeling of eyes crawling along her back, and for she knew, there may have been. There was something out there besides her father. But out of what an onlooker would describe as nowhere, her movements pause. Why are they running? They should fight.

Nala looks out to where her father disappeared. She couldn't hear anything, nor see any sign of life. She switches back to looking at the ponies which she should have been getting prepared. Her father may not be a warrior, but she knew how to fight.

The blood thumped around her ears, filling her head with silent noise.

Then her feet began to press of the ground in a sprint towards her father. The staff stayed steady in her right hand, her left prepared to either support her staff or reach for her knife. Her instincts drove her to call out for her father, but she kept her voice at bay, knowing her sprint was already loud enough for both him and their potential enemies.

There seemed to be nothing alive in the forest, an abnormality for the spring life that usually filled such a place. There wasn't even birdsong.

For a moment she thought she heard another sound of footsteps, but one quick glance assured her nothing was behind her. Nothing she could see, anyway. Air soon escaped her, and she began to gasp for breaths. She was lost, both not knowing where her father was or what way was back to the camp. But there was a clearing up ahead of shortgrass. And in the middle was a dark figure lying along the ground.

Nala's boots skidded to a halt at the tree line, the staff nearly slipping from her fingers. "Da?" Without a mind to whoever may be near and waiting, Nala ran towards her father's fallen body and her knees skidded on the ground. "Da!"

She pulled at his shoulder, turning him onto his back. A shuddered grunt passed his lips, a sure sign that he was still alive but very much hurt. "Nala?" His eyes were open but unfocused, not finding her eyes which were searching his. She nodded, brushing the dark brown hair off his forehead. She scanned over his body but there was not a wound in sight. There wasn't even a drop of blood on the grass.

"Are you hurt? Did they find you? H-H-What should I do?" Her father doesn't answer, only gripping at his inner jacket, seemingly searching for something. "Da? I need you to tell me what to do!"

"You need to run," he gasped out. Nala frowned with wide eyes, shaking her head slightly. They wouldn't be able to run with him like this. "Go to Erebor and find your brother. Find Thorin."

"Then you have to get up," she breathed out, fighting the water filling up her eyes. "Y-you have to get back to the caravan with me." Nala began to pull at his arm, pulling his back off the ground.

"Nala, no. It's a hunt. They're hunting you and me. And no doubt they're after Bola as well."

Nala dropped his arm, placing her hands on his chest instead. Her brows pinched tightly together above her wet cheeks. "Who is?" she pled. "I don't understand."

Ganula pulled out the hand from inside his jacket, holding out a small stone with Khazdul engraved on it. Nala took the stone, pleading with her eyes for a better explanation. "Durin's Guard," she read aloud. She had heard the term before. As she glanced back over her father, she noticed something she initially missed. A faint trail of blood seeping from a small hole in the side of his neck. She followed the trail down onto the grass. Her blood froze.

There was a dart, thin and lethal lying there. Nala reaches out towards it, but her father grasped her hand before she could touch it. "No," he hissed. "Don't touch it. It's poisoned."

Poisoned. Just like her mother was. They're being hunted, not slain.

"He's looking for you now Nala." His eyes finally found hers and the intensity was unnerving. Her bones rattled. "You take Mulbury and ride like the wind to Erebor." His eyes screwed shut as his lips pulled back to hold in a groan.

"I'm not leaving you here," she countered, tucking the stone into her pocket.

Ganula shook his head slowly, more relaxed than she had seen him all day. "I'm already dead. But you're not if you run now.

Nala's lips curled, two tears tracking over them. "No."

"Go!"

His words somehow forced her too her feet and she shocked herself with her own actions. Even if there was no hope to save her father, how could she just leave him there? To rot away until some unfortunate soul finds his corpse. He deserved a burial, deep in the stone of a mountain.

But her father was right: she would die here too. So, she begins to run. Not for her own sake, but her brother's. She needs to tell him what happened to their father, that whoever is after them is growing more daring than before. An inkling tells Nala that her brother already knows more than she does.

Somehow she made it back to her camp, skidding to a stop in front of Mulbury. She untied the gear that connects her to the cart, instead attaching one of their few saddles. Mulbury senses the uneasiness as she works, Nala constantly looking over her shoulders through blurred eyes. Once Mulbury is ready to go, Nala unsheathes the blade her brother gave her the morning he left with Thorin and she cuts away at the remaining three ponies gear. She didn't have time to unlatch it all.

"Get!" She slapped their rears, sending them galloping towards the direction of the small village nearby. She prayed that they would find a safe haven. She loads her pack onto her back then returns to Mulbury who looked as though she wanted to join her kind in galloping away. "Come on girl." Her leg swung over the saddle, landing in the stirrup and Mulbury was moving before she even had the reins ready. With a soft kick, they were galloping away from her life. Her father.

The ball of her palm rubbed her cheeks, pulling at the skin as the wind stung her eyes. Her father could already be dead. Or worse, he was still lying there alone.

Nala peered over her shoulder at the distant caravan. She felt ice in her veins as a lone figure stood next to the burnt out firepit. They didn't move and Nala wondered if perhaps it was just a tree. But they suddenly moved, and Nala barely had a chance to recognise the stance before an arrow whizzed past her, slicing through a lock of hair that was blowing around in the wind.

With no cue, Mulbury galloped faster with hard pants and Nala lent lower against the wind. "Run girl."