Disclaimer: I own nothing except my original characters

Chapter Three

It was early evening when Gandalf halted the troupe with a swift raise of his arm. Several of the Dwarves collided with their kin, grumbling quietly about the wizard and his irksome habits.

"Quiet!" he whispered, his voice hoarse with worry. Bilbo shivered next to Miluiel as they all listened intently to the woodland around them, humming with life which had seemed so jovial but moments before. Now, it pierced their happiness with icy droplets of fear which then lay like a suffocating blanket over them as they stood in the relative safety of the trees. Then, a sound as if from the very depths of the darkest earthly place echoed throughout the copse, and Gandalf heaved in a breath.

"The Wargs are not far behind us; Master Baggins!" he gestured to the Hobbit anxiously, and pushed him up the nearby bank of leaves. "Tell us what you see!"

The poor Hobbit scrambled over the fallen leaves, his hairy feet finding hardly any purchase on the ground as he tried to see over the bank. He moved away from the company, his feet making no sound over the grass, and he crept closer to a group of large white boulders as they rose above him. He hid behind their hulking mass and peeped out slowly, his eyes adjusting to the low evening light. From his rocky outpost he could see the Wargs in the distance, with their strange, ugly riders sitting atop, all scouting for signs of the company. Their passage through the river must have slowed their tracking down, as their scent seemed to have been washed away. Just as he was about to return to the others, a dark shape caught his eye. It moved with a graceful swaying of muscular shoulders, and as it continued onwards, he saw the long, scarred snout silhouetted against the setting sun. He clapped his hands to his mouth as he felt a gasp swelling in his throat, and he hurriedly climbed back down to join the group. They were waiting anxiously for him, huddled together in a fruitless attempt at comfort. Miluiel's grey eyes darted to him as he scrambled over the leaves towards the wizard; his heart was hammering against his ribs as he opened his mouth to speak.

"How close is the Orc pack?" Thorin asked, his deep voice rumbling from his chest. His brow furrowed as the Hobbit swallowed hard and glanced between the Dwarf prince and Gandalf.

"Too close," he replied, clenching and unclenching his small fists hurriedly, "A couple of leagues, no more. But, that is not the worst of it."

Gandalf widened his eyes as he looked down at his friend. "They saw you?"

Hushed voices filled the air as the company began to panic; Kili and Fili drew closer to Miluiel, jostling her shoulders until she stood firmly between them. Thorin ran a hand over his weary face and began to pace back and forth, darting furtive looks at the small woman between his nephews as they silently protected her. She was chewing her bottom lip, as she always did when worried; her eyes lifted momentarily to meet his own, and in that tiny moment he felt his heart leap in his chest.

"No, no!" The Hobbit's voice sliced the evening air, effectively silencing the rumbling of many voices.

Gandalf smiled expansively, throwing his arms wide, "Good, good! What did I tell you? Quiet as a mouse…"

"Will you just listen?! I'm trying to tell you that there is something else out there! Something else is following us!" Bilbo cried, his shrill voice alerting them all to the severity of their current situation. His eyes were wide, and his skin had paled in the evening gloom as he looked about himself. Surely, they realised what he was saying?

"What form did it take?" Gandalf asked quietly. His eyes bored into Bilbo's whilst he waited for his answer, as time seemed to stretch like a kite string before them. "Was it a great black bear, but larger than you have ever seen?"

Bilbo's worried movements halted abruptly, as if he were frozen. "How did you..?"

Before the wizard could reply, a quiet clamour began around him. The Dwarves were hissing at him, accusations whizzing around like enchanted birds, attacking Gandalf with beaks of scorn.

"You knew about this beast?" Bofur growled indignantly, the flaps on his hat bobbing with irritation. Thorin had halted his pacing and was stood in front of Miluiel, staring at the side of the wizard's head with his dark eyes filled with disgust. So the wizard had led them into another trap? He raked his hand through his hair and lifted his lip in a sneer.

"Wait," Miluiel whispered, grey eyes fixed on Gandalf's face as she watched him thinking. Her faith in her old friend did not waiver, but she willed him to speak and assuage their fears. Her auburn hair moved about her shoulders in the breeze, catching Thorin's eye. He noted the way it danced on the air, and a leaden feeling filled the pit of his stomach. If there was a breeze, their scent would soon be caught by their enemy; they did not have much time.

"I say we double back," Bofur said into the darkening eve. A murmur of assent moved around the company, and Miluiel felt the brothers beside her stiffen with purpose. Their shoulders moved back and their chests moved forward, and in that moment she saw just how like Thorin they were, and their regal air made her smile inwardly.

Thorin shook his mighty head, "We'll be run down by the Orc pack."

"There is a house," Gandalf said softly, almost to himself. He ran his fingers over his bearded chin and continued. "It is not far from here; we might take refuge there."

"Whose house?" The Dwarf prince ground out, his fists balled at his sides. The wizard spoke in riddles whilst they stood, waiting to be attacked? "Are they friend or foe?"

"Neither. He will help us, or he will kill us."

Thorin sneered at the wizard, "What choice do we have?"

An ear-splitting roar echoed around the company, making Miluiel shrink backwards with her tiny hand on the hilt of her short sword. Gandalf swung around, his eyes dark as he surveyed the Dwarves before him.

"None."

This single sound galvanised the company into action, and they began to run. Miluiel was dragged behind a hastening Kili; her lungs were aflame as they moved over the damp ground. The darkness was settling onto the tops of the trees and snaking around them as they fled. She could not see the animals around them, but rather sensed their presence. They were fleeing from their enemy, and she felt a fleeting moment of horror for bringing the scourge to their lands where they had dwelt so peacefully for what must have been years. It was their company who had brought death with them, but it was those around them who would pay the price.

Gandalf was leading them once more, with Thorin following closely behind. The Dwarves stretched in a ragged line into the dusk, panting and gasping as their fear carried them over the uneven ground.

"The house! Run, this way!" Gandalf called, pointing to a dark shape ahead with his staff. He allowed the Dwarves to pass him, and he ran with Oin behind them. They ran under an archway obscured with vine and into a courtyard; a little way ahead was a stone cottage, nestled amongst the greenery and welcoming them in from the foreboding gloom.

"Inside!" Gandalf cried, his voice echoing around them in the dim light. The Dwarves pounded up the stone path towards the great wooden door and slammed themselves into it, assuming the aged planks would give way under their brute strength. Miluiel was crushed between the door and Kili as he battered against the wood, hoping for entry as a great roar circled them with fear and anguish.

"Open the door!"

Thorin raced forward, Gandalf and Oin behind him, and swept his arm forward to lift the heavy wooden latch. The beam moved up and the door swung inward; the company threw themselves forward, and Miluiel fell onto her knees with a small gasp of pain. She was pushed down in the panic, her face hitting the flagged stone, and with a last glimpse of the dark sky outside she felt her eyes close, and pain exploded into her brain.

Thorin felt her slip away from him, like warmth leaving a vacated bed on a cold night, and he spun around looking for a flash of her auburn hair. He saw her as Gloin almost stood on her, and yanked at her arm to pull her aside. Just as he made to reach down to her again, the great bear-like beast roared and stuck its scarred snout inside the house, its teeth dripping with malice as its rolling eye watched the Dwarves scramble to close and bar the door against it. He leapt to his feet and threw his weight against the wood, pushing against the animal with every ounce of strength he possessed. He could feel the beads of sweat running down his face and into his beard, and his muscles strained against the strength of the beast outside. But it was no match for that of the Dwarves, and with one final heave, they slammed the door closed and pulled down the beam, barring entry to all those who threatened them for at least the night.

"What is that?" Ori asked, swinging around to face the wizard, who had backed away and was surveying the interior of the cottage. Bilbo looked about himself too, following Gandalf's gaze. He started suddenly as he realised why everything looked so queer; all the furniture was made for someone tall, taller than Gandalf and therefore much, much taller than Bilbo could ever hope to be. This filled the little Hobbit with a sense of foreboding which clouded his vision and seemed to swirl in his mouth, about to choke him, before Gandalf's voice sliced through his panic.

"That, my dear Ori, is our host."