Gandalf pulled his steed up alongside Thorin's pony at the head of their caravan. They had been traveling on the East road out of the lush rolling hills of the Shire for some time now, and they had left Bag End without Bilbo Baggins. In fact, many members of the company had taken wagers as to whether or not the little hobbit would turn up. Gandalf had tried his best to convince Bilbo to join them, but he seemed adamant in his wish to stay in the familiar safety of Bag End.
As it so happened, Bilbo eventually mustered his courage at some point that next morning, just as Gandalf has suspected he would, and ran after the company, huffing and puffing while signing a contract that Balin had drawn up, making him the fourteenth member of their little company. He would have been the fifteenth, but Gandalf would sign no contracts.
"I suggest we stay in Bree for the night. The company has seemed to tire from our long ride today," Gandalf suggested after the sun began to set. He had gotten an odd feeling this morning, one that was pulling his eye toward the small human town, and he had yet to ascertain the why of it. Thorin looked at him with an expression that displayed his desire to keep pushing East, but as he glanced back at his company and noticed their sagging heads and backs hunched tiredly, he begrudgingly agreed. Their heads were starting to bob from the exhaustion and no one had the energy to chat anymore it seemed. Gandalf pitied them. Thorin was a lion-hearted leader and loyal to the very core, but he was near cruel when it came to the grueling pace he set for their little ponies and their riders.
"We will stop in Bree tonight and stay at the inn," Thorin announced on a small grumble to the company, and he was met with sighs of relief. Bilbo appeared the most relieved as he had clearly never traveled by pony and was most likely extremely sore and wished to stretch his legs. They entered through the town's tall, wooden gates and made their way through the muddy streets to the Prancing Pony. It wasn't the nicest establishment, but it was a place to stay and a roof over their heads.
They were eyed suspiciously by the old inn keeper and his wife, as well as many of the patrons there, when the company filed inside. Dwarves were often treated as such, Gandalf lamented internally. But that was the way of things.
They were given two large rooms to split amongst the fifteen of them, and they payed the inn keeper with snide comments of displeasure hidden not-so-subtly under their breath. They each produced coin for the rooms and some meager dinner before heading up the stairs to find their rooms at the end of a long hallway. No one had the energy to enjoy a drink or the company of the other patrons down below, and Gandalf could hardly blame them for that.
The dwarves each bedded down in one of the two rooms available, the beds being shared by those who had won the wager for Bilbo joining their epic adventure, and the rest rolled out their bedrolls on the rough, splintered wood floor. Gandalf volunteered to keep watch, as wizards did not need as much sleep, and he wanted a little peace and quiet to ponder this feeling that had drawn them here.
Thorin chose to stay in the first of the two rooms with Gandalf, his two nephews, Fili and Kili, and Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, and their hobbit, Bilbo. Leaving Dori, Nori, and Ori, Óin and Glóin, and Balin and Dwalin to share the second room.
Gandalf watched as Thorin glanced over at his nephews with a faraway look in his deep blue eyes. He had told the wizard that he had promised his sister, Dis, that he would bring her sons back home safely, and that is what he would do. Or die trying.
He had brought them along, against his wishes and under the prodding of Gandalf and the begging of his nephews, but their fighting skills and loyalty were invaluable to their quest, and Thorin well knew it.
After the dwarves and lone hobbit in the first room had tumbled into slumber, Gandalf assumed that the dwarves staying in the other room were probably asleep by now too, so he let his eyes fall closed and slipped into a trance-like state. He was able to keep his senses trained on the two rooms and the area around them, as well as harness the tranquil silence of the night to study that odd feeling from earlier.
He couldn't quite place his finger on where the feeling came from, only that it got stronger the closer they came to Bree. Now that they were here, Gandalf had the unmistakable notion that the company, although this little stay in the inn was not a planned one, were exactly where they needed to be.
Rather than the stray little beams of light being what woke her from her restless sleep, the stench of horse manure roused her that morning. She was still in that accursed sack, but she was at least lying on a flat surface now. She could hear faint voices somewhere nearby, but there were no other noises close to her that would indicate her captor was in the room. At least, she assumed she was in a room. It was hard to tell when you were just waking up from a bout of unconsciousness in a musty burlap sack.
She groaned softly against the well-worn gag as she shifted her shoulder so she could lay flat on her back. After her first attempt to alert someone to her captivity by calling out, the fat bastard had ripped off a piece of fabric from something that was none too clean and bound it around her head. Her face now felt like there might be permanent lines etched in the soft skin of her cheeks where the fabric bit into them.
Her hands were tied in front of her and rested on her stomach as her legs pressed against them from above. She could touch her forehead to her knees with how close they were, and her neck was sore from the tight bun that rested at the base of her neck. Her captor had the unfortunate ability to understand that her hair was a liability if anyone were to somehow catch a glimpse of her outside of the sack. And so he had roughly bound her hair with a leather strap in a tight bun at the base of her skull and forced her to keep a kerchief wrapped around the rest of it. The result? Pounding headaches from the pressure from the mound of hair when her head rested against it and some other hard surface for too long.
The sound of a distant door slamming somewhere brought her mind back to the present. She didn't know when that disgusting man would be back, and if she had indeed heard what she thought she did yesterday, then her time was quickly running out.
So with the time she had left, she made mental notes of the sounds and smells around her and carefully pieced together any information she could about her situation. There was the stench of manure, the distant voices, the door slam, the rough flat surface she laid upon, which felt more like packed earth than wood. Was she in a barn of some sort? It would make sense if she was solely because the smell of manure was strong enough to kill an orc. There was no way it would smell that intensely if she were in a room with four walls and a door.
As she struggled fruitlessly once again against her bonds, her only thoughts were of her desperation to get out of this sack, away from that grotesque monster of a man, and back home to where her mother waited for her.
As the sun rose lazily, the gray gloom of dawn fading slowly into the pinky orange of a new day, Thorin felt himself jolt from his sleep as Glóin rushed into the room where his half of the company had slept. It wasn't often that anyone was awake before him, but he snapped out of the groggy sleep that clung to him and focused on Glóin as his red beard jumped up in down in a frenzy.
"Thorin! I was just looking out the window of our room," he panted heavily and pointed down the hall to where the rest of the dwarves had stayed the night, "I think there's a kidnapping in progress!" Glóin stared at his leader, huffing and puffing, waiting for his orders. Thorin just blinked once, then twice as he stared at his comrade, wondering what in the world he was going on about.
"What are you talking about? We do not have the time to meddle in the dealings of men," Thorin grouched sleepily, dragging himself from his bedroll on the floor. A kidnapping? Humans did not concern them at the moment, and whatever they spied out their window this early in the morning had nothing to do with them.
However, he could hear the others around him scrambling to the window now, tripping over each other to get a good look at what Glóin was raving about. He ambled over to the crowd of dwarves around the sole window with a low growl of frustration and roughly pushed his way through them to peer out.
And indeed there was a kidnapping taking place. A large, portly man was hauling what looked to be a person in a dirty brown sack over his shoulder with great difficulty, all the while craning his head around a corner, clearly hoping to go unnoticed. The bag stretched this way and that with increasing ferocity as the person within punched and kicked the taught fabric. He elbowed the part of the bag he could reach and they heard what sounded like a woman's cry.
"I will not sit here in this room while a maiden is in danger!" Fili exclaimed as he and Kili were the first ones out the door and into the hall. Curse their heroic tendencies, Thorin thought angrily. Of course he found the idea of a kidnapped woman distasteful, vile even, but this would only set them back further and add more complications.
Thorin groaned internally as he glanced over at Gandalf, the wizard was smoking his pipe whilst leaning against the wall in the chair he had occupied last night. The glazed look in his eyes meant that the wizard's mind was far away and would be no help to him in this moment.
Thorin followed the others as they rushed out into the hall, down the stairs passed the two patrons yet awake, and into the muddy street where they had seen the man carrying the woman in the sack.
It was early in the morning, so hardly anyone was out and about yet, making it easier to spot signs of movement in the stillness and track down the kidnapper.
"You! Stop!" Kili shouted when he spotted the perpetrator. The man, who was a portly, brute with a permanent sneer on his face and an ugly cut down his cheek, looked up, startled. He took off clumsily around the corner of a stone building as fast as he could, heading toward the gate leading out of the town.
Kili rounded the building at a dead sprint and took out his bow that he had evidently managed to grab during their mad dash out the door, shooting the man in the back of the thigh. The sharp pain caused the man to cry out and brought him down to his knees, letting the sack drop roughly onto the muddy ground.
Another cry of pain came from the bag and Thorin made his way over to the trapped woman as the company set upon her kidnapper. He trusted his nephews and the others to subdue the man, and he intended to make quick work of rescuing this woman, setting her to rights and then pointing her toward the inn, and thus out of their hair.
Thorin unsheathed a small dagger he kept in his boot at all times and cut the ties holding the sack closed. As he peered into the darkness of the sack, he saw the wide, scared eyes of a young woman with a gag wrapped tightly around her mouth. She had multiple cuts and bruises along her jaw and and cheekbones, causing a righteous anger to swell in his chest, even though he did not know or care for this woman. There was something about the pleading look in her eyes mixed with her injuries that made Thorin want to slaughter her captor where he stood.
He shook himself mentally as he realized how crazed and overprotective he sounded over some stranger and bent to push the mouth of the bag wider. He helped her scramble clumsily out of the bag and steadied her on her trembling limbs, untying the gag so that she could speak again and then unbinding her hands.
"Th-thank you," she gasped hoarsely and Thorin moved to let go of her, to put a little distance between them, but her legs seemed to crumple beneath her in an instant. His arms shot out and he caught her and held her up once more by her upper arms, steadying her once again as he cast his eyes up and down her form, checking for more injuries.
Her arms felt thin in his large hands, and he could see nothing of her skin beyond that of her face and neck. She was dressed in a man's tunic and too-large breeches and no shoes, he observed. Her hair was bound behind her head and covered with a stained kerchief, but he could see little wisps of it that had escaped and noted the chocolate-brown color.
As his eyes traveled over her face, he noticed the ocean-blue eyes rimmed in long, dark lashes, the high cheekbones and delicate arch of her brows. The scratches and bruises that marred her creamy, slightly freckled skin fueled his anger once more as he felt its burn rise up inside him. She was a lovely little thing, he begrudgingly admitted to himself, no one could deny that, but he'd be damned if he let her looks sway or distract him in any way, so he diverted his gaze from her face.
After a cursory exam of the rest of her body, he was satisfied that this unknown woman had no other signs of major trauma and turned to look over to where the company had subdued her captor. They had bound the man's hands and made him kneel in the dirt, at the mercy of the company's anger, Kili's bow poised at the ready with a deadly sharp arrow pointed directly at the man's sneering face.
The man's eyes connected with the woman's and he clenched his jaw tight, the muscles in his temples bulging with the effort. It was obvious by the look in his bloodshot eyes that the man wouldn't talk, and they didn't have the time to interrogate the monster.
"What should we do with this piece of filth?" Dwalin, the intimidating, bald dwarf said as he held his ax against the man's throat. All eyes turned to the woman who was still shaking in Thorin's grasp. She didn't speak, only looked blankly at the man who had hauled her about and remained silent to let the dwarves decide amongst themselves.
"Turn him over to me, master Dwalin, and I shall make sure the authorities are made aware of the situation," Gandalf spoke up from behind them, a knowing look in his eyes, and strode over to their little gathering. It was nice of him to finally show up, Thorin grumbled to himself.
He watched as the wizard gripped the back of the man's tunic and forced him up and back toward the inn. Normally Thorin would have suggested someone haul off the man for him, but Gandalf appeared to be deceptively strong for his age, and thus needed none of their help.
Óin, the healer of the group, slowly approached Thorin and the woman to inspect her for injuries. His gentle eyes took in her shaking legs, the cuts, bruises, and hollowed cheeks. She definitely hadn't been treated like a lady should, Thorin thought angrily.
"Are you alright, lass?" Óin asked softly as he took her gently from Thorin's arms. For a split second he almost tightened his hold on the woman to keep her with him, but immediately loosened his arms as he realized how ridiculous that sounded.
She gazed down at the kind-looking dwarf, trying her best to remain standing and not collapse on top of him. Thorin was taller than most dwarves and had been able to hold her up easily, he thought with a bit of pride, as he watched Óin struggle to hold up her lithe form. He was an older dwarf with gray hair and an air about him that bespoke his wise and kind nature. He often used a small trumpet that he held to his ear, as he was hard of hearing. Old age would to that to you.
"Yes, I'm alright, just some bruises," the woman responded, her voice thick in her throat from disuse. One could imagine she didn't get to use her voice much around that gag that had been tied around her mouth.
"Well, alright then. What be your name, dear?" the dwarf asked, sending a reassuring smile to the frail-looking woman in front of him.
"My name is Thessalia," she said with a little hesitation as she looked over the company of thirteen dwarves and one smaller and thinner-looking dwarf. They were an odd assortment of travelers, that was for sure, but she was thankful that someone had finally noticed her predicament. She had timed her struggling so that the next time he tried to move her and they were out in the open, someone might see and intervene. Thankfully her plan had worked.
It was then that the dwarf who had rescued her looked over at her, his bright, sapphire eyes hard as he studied her with a look of disinterest.
"We move out when Gandalf returns," he spoke to the company, not taking his eyes from hers as he spoke. "Make your way back to the inn, we will provide you with coin so that you may stay another night if need be." As he began to turn, she realized that he intended to leave her here in this human town by herself, and she couldn't allow that. These dwarves knew the land and she obviously did not, if she wanted to get home, she was going to need their help.
"Wait!" Thessalia cried as she slipped out of the older dwarf's grip and fell roughly to her knees. "Take me with you. I was taken from my home and carried for months in a direction I know not. I have no food nor supplies or knowledge of how to return home. I promise if you let me travel with you, only long enough for me to find my bearings and my direction, I will help in whatever way I can!" She gave their leader a pleading look, hoping he would take pity on her situation. She figured most men would. They seemed unable to help themselves when it came to damsels in distress, and she was pinning her hopes on it.
Her rescuer, the raven-haired dwarf that looked tall enough to be a human man, studied her. Or maybe glared was more accurate. He looked at her like she was an unfortunate thorn in his side that he was desperate to get rid of. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was unconvinced, so she gave it one more shot.
"Please, I know a little about healing and I can defend myself if I need to, just please don't leave me here," she said with forced, overly dramatic tears in her eyes. Normally she wouldn't overplay the helpless maiden act, after all she was the leader of her kingdom's defenses, and she hated feeling helpless, but she would resign herself to do what she must in order to find her way back. She had heard that dwarves were protective of their women and so she relied heavily on that fact.
Finally, a sandy-haired dwarf spoke up from the little crowd that had slowly gathered around her, the older dwarf and her rescuer.
"Please, be reasonable Uncle! We'll protect her on the road and she won't be a burden at all. We can hardly leave the poor woman to fend for herself so far from her home. She could easily be preyed upon by other unsavory characters in this town," he said with a bit of disgust. And now that he mentioned it, the dwarf had a point. Men would see an unaccompanied young woman as the perfect prey, and that made a shiver of dread dance along her spine.
Murmurs of agreement arose from the group and the raven-haired one dropped his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a deep, exasperated sigh.
"Fine. She may travel with us for now," he then turned to face her again. "But the second you become more trouble than you're worth, we are leaving you behind, no matter where we find ourselves. Do you understand?" Thessalia nodded her head vigorously. The dwarf who had pleaded her case and another dark-haired one with similar features then strode forward and came to her sides to lift her up out of the dirt and onto her shaky legs.
"Thank you," Thessa said to her rescuer in a small voice, but a rough scoff was her only reply as he turned his back and strode away from her. As she watched him walk away, she couldn't help but admire his long raven hair that hung in waves down passed his shoulder blades. She hadn't met any dwarves in her long life, but she could tell that he was rather tall for a dwarf, but no less gruff and intimidating.
"Ah, I see we have found ourselves another traveling companion," an older man in long gray robes said as he rejoined their little gathering. Thessalia looked up to the see the figure who took her kidnapper away. He was very tall, made taller by his pointed gray hat, and carried a large wooden staff. His long gray hair hung over his shoulders and a little smile pulled up the slightly sagging skin of his cheeks. He had a little twinkle in his blue eyes that suggested he knew something that everyone else did not, and that set her on edge.
"Welcome my dear, my name is Gandalf the Gray, and who might you be?" Gandalf inquired with a small smile. Thessalia didn't know him, but she felt that this old man was trustworthy for some reason, despite that odd look in his eyes.
"I'm Thessalia, but my friends call me Thessa," she said with a little smile. A flash of something, realization maybe, flashed across his face, but it was gone too fast for her to know for sure.
"A beautiful name, it is a pleasure to meet you my dear," Gandalf smiled tenderly, and then turned back to the group of dwarves. "And now we should all collect our things from the inn and be on our way once more." The raven-haired one, their leader she guessed by how the others deferred to him and his commanding presence, nodded to Gandalf and began giving out directions.
Soon everyone headed back toward the inn and the company prepared themselves to get back on the road and out of Bree. The two dwarves that had helped her up left Thessa to stand on her own when she told them she would be fine without them supporting her. It was easier said than done, however.
As they saddled their ponies, Thessa had to stumble awkwardly away from the group and propped herself against a wall in order to hold herself up on her quivering legs. She had nearly face-planted in the mud a couple times, but she eventually managed it. It seemed that standing stationary without any support was really sapping what energy she had left though, and the lack of food was also causing her head to feel fuzzy and her hands to shake slightly.
"Your legs doing alright there, lassie?" A red-headed dwarf with a full, red beard asked with a look of concern as he approached Thessa. She looked up at the dwarf walking toward her. He seemed friendly enough and she thought his large red beard, which was partitioned in smaller sections with clips or ties of some sort, was very interesting.
"Yes, thank you. I'm just not accustomed to using my legs lately, as I have been stuffed in that bag for some months now," she offered with a small smile. She shouldn't make light of her ordeal if she planned on portraying herself as the meek maiden in need of rescuing, she reminded herself, and plastered a sad but grateful look on her face.
"Well, can ya ride a pony then, or would that be too much for ya right now?" He asked with concern, looking warily at her shaky legs. He didn't think she could ride a pony on her own if she could hardly stand, she figured, and he was probably right too.
"I don't know," she replied with a slight frown. She had never ridden a pony and did not want to admit that fact either. She also didn't feel too comfortable straddling another animal. Her kind were gentle in nature and valued all life. Using another animal in that way would be a new experience for her, but walking was not an option right now.
"Don't worry, Glóin!" The sandy-haired dwarf from earlier called over to the red-haired dwarf from the pony he was currently saddling, "She can ride with me!" He gave Thessa a small wink and came over to help her walk to the pony they were to ride together. He had that sandy blond hair that was long and hung down past his shoulders. He also had a beard that was shorter in the middle at the point of his chin, but the sides were longer and hung in two small braids. He was actually quite handsome for a dwarf and she couldn't help but notice his uncanny similarity to the dark-haired one who had helped her earlier, and both of their resemblances to their leader, which was apparently the sandy-haired one's uncle.
He hefted her easily onto the pony's saddle and then swung up behind her as he grabbed hold of the reins. A heavy, muscled arm settled loosely around her midsection and pulled her gently against an equally muscled chest. As her eyes cast about the area, she caught sight of their leader, her raven-haired rescuer, watching their interaction.
His jaw was clenched tight enough to crack a tooth as he narrowed his eyes on the arm draped around her waist before he glanced quickly away again. He surveyed the progress of the rest of their company and eventually called for them to move out.