So I only got one review on the last chapter. Thank you Queefcream for doing that it really makes my day. So I will actually have another chapter up in a few hours just needs some last minute adjustments. I'm going to stop begging for reviews and just answer and thank people that do.

Do check out Queefcream's Thorin/OC story - Lians' Contingency. I'm excited for the next part!

Also remember anything Bolded in the story is Nezkish signing. Enjoy!

Kalar has only been gone a few minutes and despite the peace the man has graciously offered him, Thorin is unable to take it. He worries about the ranger while he is gone. He shouldn't be concerned, but he is. Over the past few weeks the Child of Imelkane has been helpful in most tasks; the exception being the nightly watches. However, Thorin has noticed a peculiar behavior in him that puts the dwarf prince ill at ease. It isn't anything worth mentioning to the others, but it is enough to cause Thorin distress.

There is the fact that when the men went to relieve themselves – Kalar always looks away subtly like he's looking at something others cannot see. If it happened once Thorin wouldn't have thought twice, but it happens every time. And when it's the ranger's turn to bathe he manages to disappear for a time and swiftly returns without having been seen by anyone. At first Thorin thought he might be hiding the deformity he had mentioned the first day on the trip, but it's more than that.

The mask is another concern of Thorin's. The black metal hid practically any way Thorin could read his expressions; and why couldn't he hear Kalar's breath? The mask is stilted as it hides the natural sound of his breathing. Thorin would listen from time to time when the ranger settled down in camp for the night by situating himself nearby, only to be met with an inhuman silence.

It disturbs Thorin in many ways, but what perturbs him more is the fact that he spent enough time watching the golden-eyed man to notice such things. Surely no one spends this much time watching another person. Despite this, the ranger has failed to notice his stares. He thought that he would have been called out on it by now, but the ranger is usually too involved in the day to day activities to be concerned with Thorin's constant stare. So he continues to watch and make note of the little oddities that he finds in watching Kalar.

There is a look in the brunette's eyes when he works with his nephews on their Nezkish lessons or would fall back to travel in silence with the hobbit, whenever the halfling would start showing signs of fatigue. It reminds him of the looks Dis would give the boys when they did something that made her proud; a mothering sort of look.

Usually this wouldn't bother him as Dori is very much a mother hen in his own regard, but it is understandable as his little brother is the youngest of the company. However…it just seems so out of place for someone like Kalar. He is an orphan. He is a child. He is of Imelkane and a ranger of the North.

The strangeness the ranger presents is the reason why in early weeks of the journey he had asked Dwalin to tail the ranger and watch him closely. Naturally, Dwalin didn't find anything worthy of concern other than the fact that he is lippy for someone who couldn't talk. Then again, Dwalin wasn't looking as closely as Thorin.

It is bad enough with his nephews' antics. The boys are quickly becoming enamored with the strength and mystery that the ranger seems to exude. Fili and Kalar spent most of their time working on Nezkish and exchanging sword fighting techniques. When it is just Kili and the ranger they would be having archery competitions or telling stories (with Bifur as a quick translator for Kalar). Then when all three were together nothing would be accomplished. They would regularly break into fits of laughter and spent their free time playing games. Kalar had even shown them a card game called Kings and Queens, which the boys practice every night with the deck from the ranger's saddlebag.

Thorin wonders how the ranger could be so cheerful after all that he had been through. Could he even smile? Thorin thinks that he can, but with that damnable mask in the way it is very difficult to tell. The only way to truly tell what Kalar's mood is by trying to find the answer in his eyes, which Thorin has been finding a difficult task. Once he would look at the golden eyes he found it difficult to look away. All his life gold has been a hard and cold metal that helped his people thrive, but in this ranger it is a warm and living thing. It reminds him more of the warm torchlight from this family's private quarters in Erebor than it did the cold treasury.

Thorin is unable to pinpoint the exact reason as to why Kalar made him so uneasy, but it is a reasonable explanation as to why he felt like he had to watch the ranger. Maybe Gandalf had been right in his reservations. The ranger is starting to prove himself as more of a distraction than anything.

Then Kalar reappears with two rabbits in tow. Thorin meets the same molten eyes that had ripped him from his nightmare earlier that evening. In the dream Thorin had watched the dragon kill his entire company…saving him for last…and forcing him to watch as his friends and kin die. It was only Kalar's flickering gold eyes, which stood out amongst the coins of the treasure chamber and the dragon's flames that called him back to the present. Even now the ranger is keeping Thorin's thoughts occupied.

After a moment Kalar breaks the eye contact and makes his way to his bedroll where he starts field dressing the rabbits. Thorin's eyes follow him the whole time and watch while the ranger's skilled hand deftly skin the rabbits and secure the meat. His hands are quick and effective as he does his task without thought. From time to time Thorin looks up at the golden eyes while they focus solely on the task at hand.

During some of the nights when Thorin would take watch he had seen those large eyes flare open suddenly in terror. They would be looking up at the night sky for something that wasn't there. His hands would curl into fists, full of the fabric that is his sleeping roll. Then he would calm down and relax with tears collected in the corners of his eyes, but never fell. Thorin would watch silently as to not invade the ranger's private thoughts. Then, like he could sense Thorin's watchful presence, Kalar would turn in his roll and pretend to sleep. The strangest thing regarding those moments is that Thorin anticipated a whimper, a scream…something. But there was nothing – no sound at all.

The kinship he felt with the ranger is still present, but the odd nature of the ranger left Thorin feeling on edge. He thought he could come to trust Kalar because of such familiarity, but as the days drag on he found himself watching the ranger with deep anxiety. Thorin looks up at the golden eyes once more only to find them looking right back at him. Their gaze holds for the longest time, neither of them making a move or a sound to communicate. The only sound filling the silence being Thorin's breathing and the crackling from the fire. Kalar's eyes display open curiosity as to the nature of this gaze and does nothing to break it. Before long, the sun rises and dwarves begin to stir. Thorin is the first to break the stare when the silence finally dies.

"What about this one?"

Kili tries to do…something with his hands. We have resumed our Nezkish lessons that afternoon, but Kili want to try and ask about some signs he had seen Bifur and I use in other conversations. This leads to long and convoluted conversations that rarely ever met a proper conclusion. Kili spends too much time trying to do a sign correctly, but is never really sure what sign it is we had used. This is how most of the lesson has been going – around in circles. It is frustrating, but the stubbornness of dwarves runs strong in Kili as he refuses to wait for us to teach him the signs and does his best to get them on his own. This is both admirable and astoundingly obnoxious. My irritation at the situation is easily read by Bofur who watches Kili make the sign again.

"What in the world are you trying to say, lad?"

"I'm trying to make a sign Bifur and Kalar used when talking about the Misty Mountains."

I try to dredge up memories of the conversations Bifur and I had over the last few days and sadly there had been many about the Misty Mountains so I try to start with common threads of conversations in hopes that Kili will see the one he's looking for.

Trail.

"Not that one," says Kili confidently. At least he seems to know what he's looking for. I swear if I heard him say 'Maybe that one' one more time I would gag the prince and force him to ride his pony backwards the rest of the way to Erebor.

Death.

"That one's 'death'," says Fili confidently. I nod my head in his direction to confirm that he is correct. A smile breaks out under his mustache braids as he is proud to have remembered the word. However, Kili shakes his head, telling me that I still haven't found the word he is looking for.

Rock.

"No," groans Kili. Apparently he's becoming frustrated…I ended up there an hour ago.

Goblins.

"THAT ONE!" Kili shouts.

The other dwarves who had been listening to our rather painful Nezkish lesson flinch suddenly at the sound. Nearly everyone in the company is annoyed with Kili at the moment. Minutes felt like hours and it would seem they wanted the young prince to stop as much as me.

"That one means 'goblins'," says Bofur with a chuckle. I eye him skeptically when he chuckles. The duration of his patience and positive disposition astound me.

Fili and Kili turn back to me expectantly so I could repeat the hand gesture again so that they can try it themselves properly. They do their best to imitate it, but it takes a few tries and I repeat it every time they look to me to see it again. They try to commit it to memory so that they could try it at night when the company stopped and they had nothing better to do. Of course the night wouldn't be complete without a game of Kings and Queens though. Tonight would be considered especially interesting because Dwalin and Fili had each placed a bet on their brothers respectively.

After a few attempts their sign is near perfect. Kili continues it a couple more times, but Fili becomes ambitious. Fili would regularly break out into stints where he would try nothing, but full sentences. He struggles from time to time, but does well more often than not.

"Do you…think…we will see…goblins?" he says as he signs the words with his hands. I watch his hands go through the motions to make sure he does it correctly. He goes so slow to make sure he gets it right that I can feel a smile breaking out onto my face. Once I give him a nod at his attempt and he breaks into a large smile. He's absolutely adorable.

Yes. They frequent those mountains.

"I only understood 'yes' and 'mountain'," says Fili sadly. I am frozen for a moment in surprise that his mood could change so suddenly. The disappointed frown on his face has me leaning down from my horse to place a hand on his shoulder. The last thing I want is for Fili to think that his efforts have been in vain because they most certainly aren't. He looks up at me and I lean back to sign something I do know he will understand.

You have done well, son of Dis.

I would have added more to compliment his skill, but I want him to be able to recognize all of the signs himself. It has the desired effect and he smiles at my comment. Kili stops talking to Bofur long enough to ask what his brother is smiling about. Turning to his brother, Fili does the same signs I have just made perfectly, though still very slowly. Kili's face scrunches up in disappointment, but does his best to try and decipher it himself.

"You have…uh…" Kili looks on slowly gaining a look of incredulity. "You have a nice ass, son of Ducks?"

After the long ride, with the sun beating down on us, and many hours of dedicated to this annoying signing lesson; Bofur, Bifur, Fili and I break out into a mad fit of laughter at poor Kili's expense. Many others are looking back at us now, but they to burst into laughter when Bifur explains in Khuzdul what happened. Kili, upon hearing his mistake in his mother tongue, suddenly turns the color of cardinal feathers. Fili sobers quickly and kindly tries to ease his brother's burning shame.

"Clearly you just need more practice, nadadith," Fili reassures. Fili is a very sweet older brother and Kili an adoring one. They are practically inseparable. The only time I had seen them at odds were in the few practice bouts between dwarves to prepare the younger company members for possible enemies we may encounter on the road. That's when the gloves came off; rude remarks are exchanged and everything becomes a competition. They so did love to embarrass one another, but even then it is obvious how much the brothers love each other.

These two sons of Durin have brought more smiles to my face in these past few weeks than I have in years. I find myself falling in love with their playful spirits and open personalities. They are so welcoming and happy compared to the rest of their kin. If this is what young dwarves are like I hope I have the opportunity to make more trips to Ered Luin and the Blue Mountains. Their light hearts lift my spirit and I find myself quite attached.

I have not lost sight of my own mission and I know that on my own I won't have time for this sort of playful behavior, so I am determined to enjoy it while I can. I will relish Fili and Kili's joyful hearts until it is time for us to part. Until then, I will protect them as best I can and make sure no harm comes their way. They are too precious to lose to a world as bleak as this.

"Eyes to yourself, hobbit."

Dwalin's timber cuts through the noise and I turn to look at the hobbit. He had been watching Fili as he started to correct his brother's egregious error. I do not mind the dwarfs' secretive nature because I understand the ease of putting up such walls to defend oneself. However, the hostile tone the hobbit is receiving isn't necessary or called for. He's only curious and doesn't know better…

He's just curious, Master Dwalin. No need to shout.

"Curiosity gets people killed," he growls. There is a small groan behind us and I know that Bilbo heard him. It brings out my need to protect him from the bully of a dwarf so I unconsciously place myself in front of Bilbo to directly receive Dwalin's heated stare.

"We may be willing to share a language with your people and you can teach it to whoever you please, but Iglishmek is ours and we don't feel like sharin'" he adds. As if shifting some blame on me is going to do him any good.

Seeing a few signs without context is hardly sharing and you have no right to scold him as though he committed a crime.

"You need to be more subtle. One would think you are trying to teach all of Arda," he angrily tells the boys. What happened to the nice times I had with Dwalin? Oh, yeah. We don't speak; or else this happens.

He's not a dwarf. He doesn't know better.

"Exactly! He's not a dwarf. And it is best he knows his place."

Dwalin turns around, effectively ending the argument. However, I continue to stare at the back of his head, heatedly. If he wanted the hobbit to stop he could ask him nicely. For most other creatures I would be on Dwalin's side, but Bilbo being the good hobbit he is has been nothing, but compliant. He has been doing as he's told (sometimes with complaints – but not enough to warrant this!) and he does his best to be helpful. If they would just ask, I know he would stop. The small sigh I hear from behind me is all I need to spur me on.

Asshole.

Fili and Kili, who have obviously learned this word already, break out into peals of laughter. This causes Dwalin to turn around and meet my angry stare. Several other members, who had also seen my gesture, snicker. At the front, Thorin watches our scuffle with mild interest and Balin shakes his head with a sad smile on his face.

Eventually Dwalin turns around, but not before delivering a look that clearly says 'I'm watching you.' I glance behind me to see the hobbit watching me timidly. He gives me a light smile, which I return, even if he can't see it. I hope my eyes are enough to convey that he is not without allies among the rancorous dwarves.

When I turn back I can still see Thorin watching me from over his shoulder. Once I make eye contact, he turns away and returns to his conversation. After last night I have become curious about the dwarf lord's thoughts. He had watched me queerly by the light of the campfire and I found myself wondering what he had been doing. Assessing me? Maybe he knew my secret? No…he wouldn't have left me alone otherwise. Whatever it is he is looking for, I wouldn't offer freely.

We stop later that day on a cliff side just past the Weather Hills. Everything had been similar to the usual routine and I was very happy to find that I didn't have watch tonight. As to the outcome of our game; Kili had surprisingly beat Balin at Kings and Queens. I knew Kili had a natural talent for it, but to beat Balin was quite a feat.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I awoke with a start. I hadn't been sleeping as deeply as I had the night before so when a shriek cuts through the air, I am up in an instant. When I first hear it I think I am still in Gundabad, but a small gasp is enough to remind me that I am no longer within those cold, stone walls.

Bilbo, who had been beside the ponies, scurries closer to camp as Fili and Kili explain that its orcs. My heart is racing with fear as I collect my weapons. The pair notices my reaction when I silently crawl through the camp and make my way to the cliff side with my bow in hand.

"Orcs?" asks Bilbo nervously.

'Throat cutters," answers Kili.

As I look along the ridge for movement or light below, I can see Thorin stirring from the corner of my eye. When he sits up rod straight, I realize that I'm not the only one who's on the alert now. Once I deem that the cry is too far off to be anything for my human eyes to spot I can't help thinking, 'Poor man. He will never get any rest at this rate.'

"There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawlin' with 'em. They strike in the wee hours when everyone's asleep," adds Fili.

"They strike when they feel like it," I growl back at him. What are they doing?

"Quick and quiet," Kili speaks, "No screams, just lots of blood."

I know the boys are young and inexperienced, but this is nothing to joke about. Whatever small orc raids they faced in the Blue Mountains are nothing compared to the true forces of the orcs. The hive in Moria and Gundabad housed numbers they could hardly comprehend. The fact that I care for these boys and want them to be safe, but they thought of this as nothing more than joke made my blood boil with such rage. If they treated this like a joke then they would likely get themselves killed and that thought is more painful than if I were to fail to protect them in battle; by leaving them ignorant of such danger is the same as killing them. As they started to snicker, my rage temporarily became blinding and I throw my bow at the boulder above their heads with such force it splinters and falls into their laps in pieces.

They look at me with looks of shock, which should help to calm me, but I'm still seething. The sudden noise awoke quite a few members of the company. Dwalin wakes the fastest; he takes one look at the decimated bow in the boy's laps and me, and he knows what has happened. Fili looks so confused and Kili looks hurt, but I am still having a hard time relaxing. So I turn on my heel and walk toward the thin tree line, past the ponies. I want enough distance to where I can't feel their eyes, but I can still hear what they are saying.

"You think that's funny?" I hear Thorin's baritone ask. "You think that a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

"We didn't mean anything by it," says Kili sadly.

"No. You didn't," says Thorin angrily. "You know nothing of the world." I could hear Thorin's footsteps as he shifts direction to cross the camp.

"Don't mind him, laddie," says the gentle Balin. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs."

I find myself looking back at the camp and the old dwarf. I am now curious. I don't know much about the Thorin aside from rumors and stories; it peaks my interests to learn more about him from his kin. Most races hate orcs no matter who they are, but if Thorin has a special reason to hate them I want to know why. I lean on a tree only a few feet away from said dwarf lord. He is looking out over the ridge, probably doing the same search I had done previously. However, my attention is captured by Balin. I did register the apologetic look on Fili's face though, while Kili's still hangs low.

"After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf Kingdom of Moria, but our enemy had gotten there first."

The Dwarf-Orc Wars. I knew that the dwarves did eventually walk away as the victor after the Battle of Azanulbizar, practically wiping out the orc threat throughout Eriador and Wilderlands. Some of the bloodiest battles in all of Arda happened in the six year war between the children of Mahal and Melkor. I remember tales of those battles making it to the Feasting Halls of Imelkane. They were some of my favorites as a child – particularly the Battle Dimrill Dale.

"Moria was overtaken by legions of orcs led by the most vile of their race. Azog the Defiler."

I feel my heart stop and fists clench. His name is enough to bring my blood to a boiling rage. My hands itch towards the hilts at my back out of instinct, as if his name would somehow summon him before me. My stomach rolls with unease and I almost wish there are orcs for me to kill; if nothing it would release the some of the pressure growing within me.

"The giant Gundabad orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the King."

As Balin told the story I could almost picture the battle; swarms of dwarves and orcs, charging at one another along the rocky terrain resting just outside the large Gates of Moria. In the middle of it the pale demon would raise the head of Thorin's grandfather high for all to see. He would have roared in primal glee. I switch my hand's grip my broadsword on my hip with a force so hard that I begin to shake. I can't continue to let my emotions get the better of me. I couldn't make that same mistake again…

"Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing; taken prisoner or killed we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us."

"That's when I saw him," Balin now speaks in such a tone that I look the same direction as him. He is now staring at Thorin with such reverence that I am left in awe. "A young dwarf prince facing down the pale orc."

I feel my breath hitch as I stare at the profile of the dwarf lord in the moonlight. He had faced Azog? A sudden fondness for the dwarf surges through my chest. The beast that haunts my waking and sleeping hours had been defeated by this dwarf prince. I cannot help, but wonder at the amount of courage it must have taken to face him. I know the fear the pale orc can instill in his victims.

"He stood alone against his terrible foe. His armor wrent, wielding nothing, but an oaken branch as a shield."

His moniker was received facing Azog? Nothing, but a piece of wood between him pale orc that destroyed everything I had cared about. It is nothing short of amazing. Despite already knowing that the tale would end with Thorin's victory, I find myself lost in the story.

"Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated."

A small growl creeps through my lips. 'No they hadn't,' I thought bitterly.

"But there was no feast, no song that night. For our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived and I thought to myself then, 'There is one I could follow. There is one I could call king.'"

I watch Thorin turn around to receive the looks of awe that came from his company's gaze. It is finally dawning on me just how much this quest means to Thorin. Such horrors and trials have faced the dwarves for most of their existence, but this is a chance for them to reclaim something akin to peace. They wouldn't have to wander anymore, they could be safe. I had a while yet before I could find that for myself, but I could understand.

His eyes land on me and before I can stop myself I'm bowing to him. His bravery and courage, in the face of something so evil as Azog, inspires me and lightens the weight in my heart. If nothing it helps me get to know the dwarf lord better and for that I'm thankful. He seems a little confused, which is fair; I was being dramatic, but he nods in acknowledgement. Slowly, he makes his way back to the camp.

"And what of the pale orc? What happened to him?" asks Bilbo.

"He slunk back into the hole from whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago," says Thorin.

"Is that what you think?" I murmur menacingly. My admiration for the dwarf isn't extinguished, but rather put off by his ignorance. Did he really think so powerful a foe would be so easily defeated? Who did he think led the attack on my people? If I thought Fili and Kili's ignorance annoying then this takes all. Thorin is more knowledgeable in the world and he should know better. You shouldn't think your enemies dead until you watch the light leave their eyes. It is the only way to make sure.

"Seems Thorin's not the only one with a deep hatred for orcs," says Dwalin as he picks up my shattered bow from Fili's lap. The rest of the company eyes me, with caution. Guilt settles over me now; I should not have reacted so violently, but I hadn't been able to help myself. My hand leaves my broadsword quickly to sign.

My apologies.

"It's alright, lad," says Balin. "I'll be honest with ya. While I have heard stories of the decimation of Imelkane, I have yet to hear of a firsthand account of the event. If it's not too much to ask…" I raise an eyebrow at Balin, not so much in response to the question, but the fact that Balin is the one that asked the question. He has never asked me a question as invasive as this since the tavern; he's usually the one deflecting these questions from the others. It is peculiar to say the least. I pause in my reply, which is enough time to have someone else cut in.

"Another night," Thorin says suddenly. He is eyeing me curiously and his eyes occasionally flick to Balin. Did…did he just stop Balin from being intrusive? It is oddly considerate of him. I shake my head. No… he just wants us to sleep – we have been up for quite a while now. So with that, most move back to their sleeping rolls, but Balin keeps looking at me for an answer.

Another night. I promise.

Balin smiles and nods his head. I didn't have it in me to refuse him, but I most certainly appreciate a little time between tales. Azog is enough of a tale for one night. I turn back to the brothers and offer to take their watch, seeing as I probably won't be sleeping tonight. They accept, but they don't go to bed and continue to look at me. I have no idea what they are thinking until Fili speaks.

"Kalar, I apologize for the both of us. We didn't mean to cause insult or bring you grief."

Sleep, young prince. Let your heart rest easy for you are forgiven.

Fili's eyebrows furrow as he tries to translate my words in his head. It puts a small quirk in the corner of my mouth and my agitation is temporarily forgotten. He opens his mouth to say something, but Thorin's short temperament rears its head.

"You are forgiven," translates Thorin. "Get some sleep."

Fili gives me a sad nod before rolling over to sleep. Bilbo is still wide awake as I can see his eyes reflecting the light from the fire. To my left the wizard continues to smoke his pipe, his eyes looking into the distance at something I could not see. The rest have curled back up in their rolls to gain what little hours of sleep they could before we started moving again. My perch gives me a perfect view of Thorin as he returns to the rock he had been leaning against for sleep. He too remains awake. With nothing else going on in camp he takes to looking at me rather intensely, like he is searching my face for something. I don't know what he could possibly be looking for. For a moment I wonder if he's going to do the same thing as last night, but over time his eyes become heavy and he slowly falls asleep. For his sake, I hope that he manages to find peace this night.