Hi everyone! This story has really been writing itself out in my mind and I have been writing so much I actually have the next two parts ready! I just need to do the editing which I decided to go ahead and do for this one to post it early. See, I want to post this one now and have you guys tell me what you think so far in the reviews. You can tell me if you like it or not, I appreciate honesty so long as you tell me why you do or don't like it. I'm not afraid of a little dragon fire! ;)

Anyway special thanks to:

OakenFig3:
I absolutely love your review! I wish I could receive ones like this all the time. I hope you enjoy it as the story continues and these next few chapters still leave breadcrumbs of back story and character development, but I really do want to get on with the story. So these next few are for you. Be sure to review again please, I loved it!

QueefCream:

I love our conversations as we read each others stories. I hope your review problem is taken care of ASAP as it is dumb and stupid for people to complain about things like that. This one is also for you, my friend! - Everyone give QueefCream's story a look as I find myself thoroughly enjoying it! It's called Lians' Contingency!

"Papa! Papa!"

I thought that I had seen my father, but discovered it to be a different guard. He watched me curiously, but I released a large sigh and turned around to continue my search. I ran through the courtyard past several other guards, looking for my father. I knew he would be excited to see my first kill. Most boys didn't earn this right until they were eight, but I caught my first rabbit and I was only six. I knew my father would be proud, he always told me I was special and now I could prove it.

I heard squeals coming from the ladies as I passed by in search of my father. I'm sure I may have accidentally sprinkled a little blood on one lady's dress in my haste. The dead rabbit in my right hand and the bloody knife in my left must have been quite a sight, but it didn't wipe the smile from my face. It was my first kill – I had proven myself. I didn't even need anyone's help.

I was beginning to lose hope of finding my father, after having searched all of the Palace's outer halls, when I met up with my father's best friend, Gaellyn. He had been quite handsome; not nearly as tall as my father and an exotic, darker complexion than most men in the city. He had black hair that looked softer than silk with a slight curl to it that is foreign to the natives ofImelkane. I think his mother had been born in the east, beyond the Grey Mountains in the Withered Heath. His golden eyes, however, showed his father's heritage through and through.

From the day I had been born Gaellyn had always been in my life. He was there for my first steps, my first words, and my constant companion whenever he would leave the Palace to visit the outskirts of town. He gave me my first wooden sword, against my father's wishes, in hopes of starting my training early. He never thought my gender was enough of a reason to dissuade me from my goal of becoming a warrior. Gaellyn and my father argued over it often, but my father never really had a good excuse to keep me indoors; especially since my mother encouraged the training. I used to think Gaellyn was so beautiful and kind…but it was only through the eyes of a young and naïve girl.

I had been foolish.

"Gaellyn, look! I have made my first kill!" I yelled excitedly. I held out the rabbit and knife in my hands, unsure of what to do with my prize. He smiled, revealing perfect rows of near white teeth, as he took the rabbit from me and looked it over. He and my father were both part of the Sovereign Lord's guard, which was a surprise to no one. After the passing of Gaellyn's father, Kalar had adopted him in a way. My father was an only child and he yearned for the companionship of a brother, which he often found in Gaellyn. Since they were in training together my father took him under his wing and Gaellyn was more than happy to receive such brotherly attentions.

They trained together, fought together, and even fought against each other sometimes. In ways they were so similar, but so different. Even though this relationship made him an uncle of sorts I never really saw him that way. Uncle Neir had been more of an actual uncle, but with Gaellyn it was different. I saw the warrior he was and thought him a good man. He was my confidant, my best friend, and the only person outside my family that I knew I could trust implicitly. I would follow him all over town, even to bars and a brothel, once, in hopes of spending time with him. He had been brave and wonderful, my Gaellyn. I wanted to grow up to be like him. After looking over the rabbit he gave me another smile, one that made the world light up.

"This is very good, Tahna. I have a feeling that this one will make for a good meal tonight," he said with faint rasp to his voice, "How did you ever manage to catch one this big within the Wall?"

"I didn't. I slipped out and caught it with my snare," I said proudly. However, Gaellyn's face fell quickly and so too did mine.

"How did you get outside the Wall?" he asked, shocked. "Tahna, don't you know that's dangerous?"

"It was only for a few hours. I knew I could catch one if I went outside," I tried to explain.

"Where, Tahna?!" he said more forcefully.

"Am I in trouble?" I asked gently. I knew we weren't supposed to leave without someone with us, but I had wanted it to be a surprise. He seemed to realize my distress and he shifted into a softer tone.

"No. Not yet, Tahna. But I need you to show me where you got out, okay? It is important for the safety of everyone inside the Wall."

I nodded my head and took his hand in mine. Despite his battle hardened calluses, the rabbit blood allowed for my smaller hand to slip into his large one easily. I took the quickest path back out of the halls and into the streets of the city. I avoided the main path as there were many people preparing for the Midsummer Festival. So we travelled along the back streets, only running into people with carts of goods for the most part. The summer air was crisp and warm, carrying a breeze that smelled like the gardens of the Palace. With our hands still locked, Gaellyn kept up with my hectic pace as we neared the Wall.

The Wall of Imelkane encircled the entire city. The Wall was made when the raids of Gundabad orcs and even a dragon or two would come down from the north. The northern border of the city faced the large Grey Mountains and our southern border is exactly five days ride to the northern border of Mirkwood. While the Wall did keep out the monsters in the mountains it also shielded us from the plains of Rhovanion.

It was taller than most of the structures inside the city, with the Palace, the Citadel, and the Centennial Tower having been exceptions. Its design had insured that no one could scale it and for an entire Age it had been so. Large, smooth sheets of dark metal line the exterior of the Wall so none could climb them. At certain points the back part of the Wall was hallowed out so that large furnaces could heat the dark metal exterior and burn whoever tried to touch it. It was here that I found a hole small enough to slip through and knowing the guard rotation, made it easy to slip past anyone who would stop me.

I drew him in and slipped beyond the large furnace there to show him the seam of sunlight that came in from the wall. He leaned forward on the stone foundation, trying to get a better look at the crack and for a moment all was silent. He slid back and looked at me. His eyes looked like a small, raging storm and I had started shaking. He held my upper arms to stop my frightened movements, but he still looked angry.

"How long have you known about this?" he asked.

"Only for a week. I found it when we were playing Seeker. I was looking for a new hiding place," I explained.

"You have been leaving the city all week?!" he growled as he held my arms a little tighter.

"N-no!" I stuttered. "I only left today. I had to finish my snare and find a knife."

At this his grip loosened and he released a shaky breath. "Thank the Valar. Tahna, we are too close to Gundabad to allow anyone, even other warriors, to travel outside the city alone. It dangerous. You know this!"

I was near tears. I had just wanted to prove that I could be the special person my father always talked about. I wanted to bring home my kill just like other boys in the village and see my mother be proud of me. I wanted her to see that I was as strong as her.

"I'm sorry," I said as tears fell.

Suddenly, he wrapped me in a fierce hug, which I returned as I cried. My blood stained hands gripped his uniform tightly so that I could have a better hold on him. My head was buried in his chest so my tears started staining his tunic. I could feel his breath as he laid a soft kiss in my hair and his hand was comfortingly rubbing circles on my back. In moments the calm returned and I found myself looking up at him. He was smiling gently as he looked back down at me.

"It's okay, Tahna," he murmured. "You are safe and nothing bad has happened. It's actually a good thing you found this."

"It is?"

"Of course it is," he smiled. "Now that we know it is here we can inform the smiths and refortify the Wall. If you hadn't found it an orc might have slipped in or worse, a skunk."

I chuckled at his joke while I wiped away my tears on my sleeve. Nothing was worse than orcs, but after stumbling onto a nest of skunks outside the city Wall some of the patrolling guards had formed a different opinion.

"I will inform the Sovereign Lord of this immediately. You go home now, Tahna. Tell your parents you caught this on the Knot – inside the city," he said imploringly. "We don't want to worry your parents and it would spoil your surprise."

"Are you sure?" I asked. The smile he gave me is much bigger now and it warmed my heart.

"I'm sure. This will be our little secret, but you have to promise me not to leave the city without an escort again, okay?" he said.

"I promise!" I said triumphantly.

"Good," he replied and held up the rabbit, "Now this is your first kill and that deserves celebration. Take it home and show your parents. I know they will be proud."

"Okay," I smiled. "Promise you will come tonight to eat it with us!"

He handed me the rabbit and momentarily covered my bloodstained hands with his. He cracked another large smile and I felt special – like it was just for me.

"I would be honored. I promise I'll be there."

I feel a nudge in my shoulder as I am roused from sleep. I open my eyes to see Dori leaning over my sleeping form. The fire flickers over his intricately braided hair to produce a stark contrast against the night sky behind him. I stare at him grumpily, waiting for him to tell me why I'm being woken before dawn.

"Your turn for watch, lad," he whispers. Oh…that's right. It's my turn tonight.

I nod my head and pull myself from my sleeping roll. Once I'm sitting up properly, Dori hands me a tin cup full of hot tea. It burns my hands a little, but it is most certainly worth it. I nod my thanks to the dwarf and take up my watching position on a tree stump. I watch as Dori returns to his roll, beside youngest brother. I smile sincerely as Ori is now protectively placed between both his brothers. I love their small moments together; it's like being a family within a family. As an only child, the closest interactions I ever had in regards to siblings is with my cousin or with my training partners; so it was sweet to witness these brotherly moments to say the least.

After the morning in the Hog's Breath tavern, Nori eventually came around and apologized for trying to steal from me. However, he only did it after Dori tried to do it for him. Despite his apology, I find myself rather paranoid to have a thief among the dwarvish ranks. I find myself checking my supplies regularly and every night before I go to sleep I touch my hilt less blades to insure they hadn't been taken during the day. While Bilbo may have been the 'assigned' burglar; it is quite clear that Nori is the one who lacks a conscious. Nori actually complimented my skills in being able to sense him and says it should come in handy on this journey. Dori even chimed in, adding that it would mostly come in handy against the mischief caused by the two Durin princes.

I look over the fire at Fili and Kili in time to see Fili roll over and cover half of his brother's body with his own. Poor Kili tries to escape, but after a few futile movements, gives up entirely. I allow myself to laugh at the sight unhindered behind the safety of my mask. The smile on my face is so large that it actually hurts. Only the princes, and on occasion Bofur, have brought such smiles to my face. The muscles in my face are straining after years of disuse.

It surprises me that most of the journey so far had consisted of Nezkish lessons. I had anticipated the princes to allow others to do the translations for them, but they wanted to be able communicate with me independently. So they quickly took up learning the language upon themselves. They are determined to become self reliant and practiced regularly.

However, they are still boys so the first thing they had wanted to learn was how to curse in Nezkish. I shook my head and refused to teach them that even though I found it quite amusing. Bifur, however, happily filled in those blanks, much to the displeasure of the company. There have been several mornings now where the boys would "accidentally" curse at someone. If no one believed them they said they were "practicing". This usually left me shaking in bouts of laughter.

As it turns out Ori is fluent in signing, but he doesn't partake in our lessons – he is far more interested in recording the company's interactions than teaching. However, he did show me a lovely sketch of me and the brothers practicing as we rode. In the sketch, my fingers appear to be forming Fili's name while the brothers were watching my hands carefully.

When the cursing lessons started Dori had been determined to see his brother not become invested in the princes' fun. Despite that it was unfounded, as his brother didn't participate at all, Bofur decided to playfully mock the prude nature of the older dwarf and started singing dirty songs. After the sixth day I had lost count of all the "bonny lasses" Bofur had sung about.

Balin had been quite right about the others getting used to me. I think the reputation my clan had with the dwarves of Erebor made my amalgamation with the company easier. While I could not hold conversations in Khuzdul, the Nezkish made it easier. I think the dwarves are quite comfortable having someone they could converse with about battles and the like in a language that is their own; but still having a second and more private language they could fall back into if it suited them to cut out all outsiders, including me, is a comfort to them. It was slightly rude, but I didn't mind too much.

I see a tiny figure huddling closer to the fire than the rest. I feel bad for the little hobbit because he didn't have a method of connecting to the dwarves like I do. He doesn't know how to sign (though I secretly suspect that he has been watching our lessons), he has fought no battles, and he's a bachelor. I'm amazed at the amount of comments regarding his marital status. For some reason dwarves don't understand that just because there are a lot of females for a particular race doesn't mean all the men have to get married. The only reason I'm exempt from such teasing is because 'I'm too young'. If my mother had a grave she would have been rolling in it.

Worried that I left the tea for too long, I unhook my mask and hold it an inch or two from my face to drink. As usual it is perfect; a simple green tea which helps to remove the cobwebs of slumber from my mind. The dwarves were quick to discover that I made for a bad companion in the early hours of the morn. It became even worse when Thorin began assigning me watches at night. However, the dwarves did their upmost to make sure that I was somewhat comfortable. For example, every time Dori finishes his watch and knows that I'm next he makes tea before he wakes me up because it makes me less of a troll.

I make sure to stay extra quiet while I drink as the last thing I need right now is for a dwarf to wake up and see me without my mask on. I am surprised I have managed to keep up my façade as long as I have. I have been lucky; I'm not foolish enough to assume it is my skills that keep my rouse in place. I have far too many female mannerisms to base my good fortune on skill alone. So far there have always been a few moments where I can relieve myself in private and when it is time for bathing I am always appointed first watch and would go later – where no one could see me. When I bleed it is very light and rarely ever causes me issues, especially with the herbs I take regularly; it is near nonexistent. Then with Thorin's rigorous travelling schedule I have also never had time to remove enough armor that would make them question my gender. All of it is nothing more than dumb luck.

The only problem that I have reached in these past few weeks is explaining the nature of my mask. On the first day out Fili had asked me of its significance. I hate lying – I really do. The fact that I have gone on with my "male" charade for this long is truly a testament to my will power. So as to sate the guilt in my heart I gave him a half-truth. I told him a warg had mauled me and left me deformed under the mask.

The company had been in shock. Even Thorin, who had taken to ignoring my presence completely, had turned around to look at me. It isn't a complete lie; from the top right of my upper lip down to the top of my collarbone there are three, wide claw marks. The lie is that I just didn't tell them is that the mask isn't really necessary.

I received the wound while attacking an orc encampment when I was fifteen. I had pulled back my jerkin, which covers most of my neck, to show them the marks. However, Kili had wanted to see the rest of my face. I tried to politely decline, but Gloin, who had also become curious, told me that dwarves wore their battle scars with honor; he assured me that no one would mock me for my appearance.

In that moment I had thought that jig was up. However, Balin saw my hesitance at unclasping the mask and intervened. He made sure to remind them that the race of men looked at the world differently and that they should respect my privacy. The dwarves of course did leave me alone and I thank the Valar everyday for Balin's presence among them. His brown eyes are always so full of gentle kindness and admiration that I do not deserve; therefore, the guilt continues to grow like a living stone within my belly. I despise lying to him above all the others because he has misplaced his faith and I wish I could do better by him.

Resting near Balin's feet is Dwalin. The only reason I can recognize him from this angle is because of the large pair of battle axes resting beside him. I finish the tea and replace my mask, still trapped in my thoughts. I found it peculiar that Dwalin, of all the dwarves here, is the one that would always be at my side. Whenever I offer to go hunting, Dwalin becomes my second. Before we make camp and I want to do a perimeter sweep Dwalin offers to take the other side so we meet in the middle. Considering how I acted in the tavern prior to our departure, I had been certain that he would dislike me the most.

My greatest annoyance with this is that I am having a hard time trying to understand the dwarf's motivations. He doesn't revere me like his brother and if anything he has remained wary of me. Yet he has now become a constant in my life and we have shared many companionable silences. It didn't start that way though. Many of our early interactions remind me of my conversation with the wizard in the barn; very tense and near hostile. Every time he spoke was a jab and my disgruntled looks only spurred him on. I did my best to ignore him, but it felt uncomfortable that he was there and then never said anything. I remember madly wondering what the dwarf was thinking, but now I have given up in understanding and simply accepted it. Once I had given up on being angry with him he gave up taunting me; I admit it now that later I would miss his presence. It is a long journey to the Lonely Mountain and once it is over I would be all alone again…

Bombur suddenly releases an abrupt snore and I jump with my hand on a dagger near my boot. I discovered early on that Bombur did this from time to time in his sleep. I am not angry or annoyed by these outbursts, despite the unease those moments bring, but I am far more amazed that no one else becomes startled. He is as loud as an Oliphaunt in heat; how does no one else hear him? I recall that early on Bilbo heard him as well. Poor little fellow had the hardest time falling back asleep after that. However, over time even he has become immune to the more abrupt noises.

Slowly my muscles return to their relaxed state, but I move to prevent them from settling. I silently make my through the camp and add more logs to the fire. As I crouch, poking at the fire, my eyes settle on a figure in the corner of my vision. The grey wizard is settled beneath a tree opposite my watcher's post, just outside the camp. His large hat is draped over his face as his head hangs low, as if asleep. Somehow, I doubt he is actually asleep and I am more than certain he is watching me from his perch, but I leave him alone in hopes that he will do the same.

We have exchanged few words, the wizard and I. He spent most his ride in the company of Thorin or Bilbo. However, in the few moments we had been forced into close quarters I could sense that his ill ease caused by my person was slowly slipping away. I think he had begun to realize that I would honor my word (at least this is my hope) and has eased the hostility from earlier. He has instead taken up the pastime of analyzing me, which is almost as annoying. As for myself I'm still a little tense around the wizard because I'm unsure of how to act around him. My experience with the blue wizard left me unsure of how to act around an Ishtar. I almost feel like he already knows everything about me.

I remember those first few hours where I was trapped in an ice cave. After slipping through a crack in the ice during my hastened escape I had fallen and broken my legs. I had long since given up in my struggles and waited painfully for the end when he had appeared.

"Who are you?"

"I am someone that this world has left behind. And who are you?"

"I'm afraid."

A low rumble draws my attention from both the fire and my thoughts. At first I think it's from the woods, but I quickly realize this is not the case. Thorin rests his back on a fallen log to remain sitting up so he can be prepared in case the need to fight arose. He always sleeps like this, unable to fully relax and sleep on the ground like the rest of the dwarves. He is grumbling in his sleep – I can see his mouth either forming words or the beginnings of a snarl; with Khuzdul it's a little hard to differentiate. Since the first day of our journey, Thorin has hardly acknowledged my person aside from handing out orders. I don't know if this is a sign that he is comfortable with my presence or if he simply doesn't care. Somehow I doubt there is a lack of care, for the information he gave me could never be given so lightly, but then again he is a hard dwarf to read.

As with all my watches, however, I do realize Thorin's tendencies to fall into night terrors. He usually manages to wake himself up and I pretend I don't notice, but tonight he seems to be having a particularly violent episode. I watch him toss and turn with his hand fidgeting towards his sword. Despite my concern, I knew I couldn't approach him if his hand is twitching towards his sword; I'd probably die in the attempt. So I continue to watch him cautiously from my position by the fire. For a moment I don't think he is going to wake up, but with a sharp intake of breath he jolts awake.

For a fraction of a second his eyes remain out of focus, still trapped in the dream. However, our eyes meet and it seems enough to bring him back to the present. He leans back looking around the camp from figure to figure, trying to relax somewhat, but is clear that whatever had been in his dreams was enough to prevent him from returning to sleep's embrace. I haven't broken eye contact with his form, but after those few initial seconds he made it a goal to not look me in the eye. Once he realizes I'm not going to look away, he finally gives me a feral snarl.

"What is it, ranger?"

I can't imagine what it is he dreamt, but it must have been something particularly nasty. It's obvious he doesn't want to chat so I try an indirect approach.

There is sometime before dawn and it is quite clear that you will not be returning to sleep.

"Quite the master of observation you are, ranger."

He's awfully rude, but then I'm not much of a morning person either. The only reason I'm civil is that I had some of Dori's tea. I'm starting to think Thorin could use some as well.

Would you like to be alone with your thoughts?

For a moment his eyes soften and he looks away again, as if looking at me brought him pain. However, I remember that look from the Hog's Breath – appreciation. My kind words and acceptance of the terms for the quest had brought out this look in his eyes as well.

I know exactly what he needs without him having to tell me; no one wants to be seen in their weakest moments and clearly this is one of his. So I rise from the fire and collect my bow and arrows from my saddle. Thorin watches me move across the camp from his perch.

I'm going to collect breakfast. I will return soon.

Despite that I didn't ask it as a question, I wait for his approval. I am doing my best to show that I respect his privacy and his authority, as he has mine. He pauses in consideration with a look in his eyes I do not recognize. After a moment, our eyes meet and he nods his head, accepting my offer. I quietly walk past the tree line where the wizard sleeps, heading for a small stream several yards out.

Nothing, but the quiet of the night, is waiting when I arrive so I take perch in a large pine tree as I wait for prey to approach the stream. Not that I actually care to catch anything – I have mostly left for Thorin's benefit rather than finding the company food. They have enough capable hunters that I think we could easily find a morning meal without my help. However, I can't help wondering what sort of dream would set off the stoic dwarf prince. I'm sure that there are plenty to choose from. The Sacking of Erebor. The elves abandoning them. The Dwarf – Orc Wars. Wandering the plains with his people while they starved and begged at the mercy of other races…The list seems endless.

My own memories would leave me awake at night as well, but no one would hear me scream so long as I had the mask on. Tonight's memory hadn't been horrible, but I still felt a deep regret from that day.

I sigh as I look up at the night sky. There are no clouds in the sky and I can see the constellations of the summer sky. The one star I pick out easily is the Star of Numenor – named after the civilization from the First Age. It is the symbol of the Dunedain and our night guide for all rangers as we travel through Arda.

As my thoughts drift to rangers I begin to wonder how my troop is fairing right now. If all is well they should have arrived at Lorien by now, maybe even made their way through the Misty Mountains. I wonder if we would cross paths…I would love to see Ethon again. I feel a twinge of guilt as I think of the boy I had trained along side of since we joined the ranks – he was one of the first to discover the true nature of my gender, but he had been willing to hide it, even from our chieftain. However, my inability to keep lies brought my true nature forward; but his loyalty to me as a friend prompted me to give him my real name. To all others I'm still Kalar, but I just happen to be a girl as well. He had been so clever and playful about the whole affair that I am lucky to count him as my friend.

He has a narrow face and a pointed jaw, which when I last saw had scruffy beginnings of a beard. His red hair had been the butt of many jokes, but he usually laughed along with us. It is likely he is no longer a lanky boy and filled out over the last two years. I have no doubt he would most certainly be quite handsome. I remember staring many times at a small scar over his left eye he got when his father had tried to cut him in a drunken rage. The abuse he had suffered at home led him to join the rangers in hopes of protecting innocent people like him and it made me admire him…

A doe emerges from the trees and takes to the water, but I don't move. I'm not ready to take down that big of game and carry it back to camp, but mostly I don't want to disturb Thorin. With the company travelling in such close quarters, I'm sure it is difficult for him to find peace of mind. The least I can do is give him this time while the others are asleep. So I let the doe drink it's fill and wander off. I still have plenty of time before sunrise.

I wonder what it is he thinks about, the King-In-Exile. When working around the camp I can usually find him looking at the key that hangs around his neck or out into the distant east. I'm sure he has his doubts about the quest, seeing as none of his kin from Ered Luin and the Iron Hills bothered to join him. As with all dwarves they are very secretive, but it is as if every thought Thorin has is something to be guarded. It must be maddening…

Suddenly something small starts for the stream, approaching much more cautiously than the deer. It silently approaches, only the sound of the wind filling my ears. With ease I slide a shaft of an arrow and rest it on the nock of my bow. I wait until it lowers its head to drink before loosing my arrow. It's a direct shot and the rabbit is dead before it hits the ground. I climb down from my hiding place deftly pull my arrow out of the rabbit's eye.

The sky is starting to lighten as I give the traditional thanks to the forest for the rabbit's life before returning to camp. I suddenly have a feeling of familiarity and I pause, trying to think of what it could possibly be. Looking down at my hands I realize they're coated in blood. Just like the day I took down my first kill. I remember a pair bloody hands being held together and I can't help but chuckle darkly at the irony.

"It's not just rabbits anymore. There is so much blood on our hands, Gaellyn," I whisper. "I don't think there is enough water in the Sea of Rhun to wash it all away. I'm afraid that it will never come off."

Gaellyn and Ethon were OCs who just wormed their way into this story and now I need to get rid of them. Muwahahaha!

Remember to review pretty please!