Chapter 2
I awoke to a heavy breathing beside me. I could smell smoke lingering in the air around me. The breathing was steady and comforting, but the smoke blocked my nostrils and caused my throat to close up. I debated whether to open my eyes and find the source of the sound and disgusting smell, or go back to the lovely, comforting darkness…
No! I thought, panicking. If I fell back asleep again, I might never wake up. My Papa had been a doctor, before he died, and he had told me enough stories to last a lifetime about people who went to sleep and never woke up.
I decided to get up, and see where I was and if I could escape, but when I tried to open my eyes, I found for some reason that I couldn't. I started to shout out loud, but my lips were sealed together and I couldn't part them. I mumbled as best as I could, and blew out through my nostrils in attempt to catch the person's attention. I heard shuffling, and a soft muttering and warm breath on my face and then my eyelids fluttered open.
I looked around me, and saw an old friend. "Gandalf!" I cried, looking upon the familiar face of the kind wizard I had known since a child. I sat up and flung my arms around his neck and swallowed the lump in my throat. Gandalf chuckled and undid my arms from around his neck, lowering me back to the ground.
"Gandalf, w-what happened?" I asked. "I-I remember the trolls… then a bright light… and then complete darkness. How long was I out for?"
"Long enough." He replied, as always answering in riddles. I was about to tell him, but he cut me off. "You made quite an entrance there, didn't you? Luckily for you and the dwarves, I got there just in time. You were just about to be squashed by a very angry troll, when I struck the rock and the sun came pouring in. Turned them all to stone." He chuckled.
"Are the dwarves okay?" I asked suddenly. I had even given a second thought to them yet. I hadn't even thought about my dear wolves. I started panicking then. What if one was hurt? What if one was… No. I wouldn't think it. Not dead, not dead, not dead. I repeated this over and over again to myself while I waited for Gandalf's reply. I stood up quickly, testing myself to see if I would be okay on standing on my feet. Thankfully, I didn't fall straight onto my butt.
"The dwarves are fine, thanks to you," he replied. "But I don't think you should do that now. You are not yet fully recovered." His face creased up in concern, but I wasn't going to be put off that easily.
"I'm fine." I replied. "Is the weird little creature okay?" I asked, wondering why he had been with thirteen dwarves. Is that natural?
"Weird little creature? Oh, you must mean our burglar, Mr Baggins." He said, chuckling to himself. He had an amused look on his face, which made me wonder what I had said wrong.
"What is he? I asked. I felt stupid, but knew I wouldn't get anywhere if I didn't even know who I was in the company of. Besides, I had never even seen one before, so how was I to know?
"He is a Hobbit." Gandalf replied. He must have seen the look of confusion on my face, because he carried on talking. "A Hobbit. Not heard of one? Hmmmm… let's see. They are also called Halflings and Shire-folk. They come from the shire, the name is a clue." My face lit up as I realised what he was talking about.
"Oh!" I almost shouted. "One of them funny people! I know what you are on about! The little curly haired people with the big furry feet!" Gandalf chuckled again (honestly, I don't know why he chuckles all the time. Maybe he just likes the sound of it), and his eyes creased up as he did so.
"Where are Luna and Blaze?" I asked. "And Faolan and Lobo and Ice and Bandit and Fable? And all my other wolves?" I was sounding quite hysterical, but I didn't care. My wolves were all I had and I couldn't bear it if something had happened to one of them. Ever since I ran away after my Papa died, I have been living rough; sleeping on the floor or in a tree, eating plants or dead animals, and drinking from streams. The wolves – and other forest creatures – became my family, and now they could be hurt because of me. Tears threatened to spill out of my eyes.
"Come on Rhoewia of the Pack" Gandalf said smirking, using my full name. "I have not known you to cry, and I do not intend to see you. Your wolves a perfectly safe, I have seen to it myself. Seeing as you seem to be fine, I think I will take you to meet your admirers." He said with a wink and a smile.
Pulling a face, I hauled myself up from the floor, and realised most of my clothes were gone. I was only wearing my comfy brown leather pants, and a white under shirt made of linen. I was not particularly bothered, but how was I to make an impression wearing one layer of clothing?
"Gandalf?" I asked. "Where are my clothes?" I searched around and found them in the corner of what I now saw was a small cave, just as he was about to reply. "Doesn't matter anymore. Where are we?" I asked, looking around at my bearings.
"You certainly have a lot of questions." Gandalf said, chuckling (here we go again). "We are still in Trollshaw forest, almost at the end. We will still be travelling for at least another day before we reach the edge."
"What do you mean by 'we'?" I asked, thinking he meant himself and the dwarves, but kind of hoping he meant me, too.
"You saved the Company's lives." Gandalf replied. "They will not forget that. They want your help and excellent fighting skills, and want to repay you, so will gladly give you a share of the treasure an–" I cut him off abruptly.
"Wait a minute," I said. "Did you say treasure?" I was unsure of what I had heard, as I was only half-listening while pulling on my overcoat and boots. I tied my sword belt around my waist and my specially made harness to hold my twin knives. My bow and arrow lay on the ground next to the plate of food I only just discovered.
"Of course I did Rhoewia." Gandalf replied. "Keep up. Anyway, I am sure the dwarves will inform you soon. Come one, hurry up!" he said and we came out of the cave.
At first I couldn't see anything. The light was bright, and I thought I was blind. After a couple of seconds, though, my eyes soon adjusted to the sun and I could see clearly.
There was another cave to the right of the one I had been in, with a white haired dwarf and a brown haired dwarf sitting outside, on a fallen tree. As I stepped out they both looked up and smiled at me. I smiled back nervously.
"That is Dori and Nori." Gandalf told me. A few meters from the cave entrance, a large fire was burning, and around it sat some dwarves.
The fat ginger one was stirring the pot over the fire, and a cheerful looking one with a funny hat was teasing him. Next to him was an older, white haired dwarf, chatting to two dwarves who looked alike, except one had ginger hair, and one had white. A big bulky one was sitting on a log with his back against the tree, sharpening two deadly looking axes. At the far end of the fire, a young dwarf was sitting crossed leg on the ground, his tongue sticking out as he wrote something in a notebook, and he looked by far the kindest dwarf of the lot. Sitting on a fallen tree, the furthest from the fire, was an old, battle scarred old dwarf. He had what looks like half of an orc axe stick in his head and you could tell by just looking at him that he was not very sociable.
"Over there is Bombur" he pointed to the one cooking, "and sitting next to him is his brother Bofur. The older dwarf over there is Balin, and the two dwarves sitting next to him are Oin and Gloin." He pointed to the dwarves that looked alike. Then, he pointed at the one sharpening the axes. "That is Dwalin, Balin's brother, and over there," he chuckled, "is young Ori. He is the quietest of the lot, and I must say I am quite fond of him."
I counted up the dwarves and found out I had only seen ten.
"Gandalf?" I asked. "I thought there were thirteen dwarves, but you've only introduced ten." I said.
"I am sure you will meet the rest soon." Gandalf replied. His riddles and half-answers were starting to annoy me, but I was used to it, so I kept my mouth shut.
As I stepped away from the entrance of the cave, all the dwarfs' heads' turned and looked at me. Some looked surprised, some looked shocked, and some were nudging each other. Some looked… happy? Then all of a sudden, ten dwarves started shouting all at once, all nudging each other and fighting for attention. My head was bursting. Seriously. Ten dwarves all babbling at once is something you do not want to experience, unlike troll fighting.
"Silence!" Gandalf shouted, and all mouths snapped shut. It might have been me, but I could swear that he rose in height and the sky darkened. Weird. He nudged me forward and gave me an encouraging smile.
"Errrrr…" I started, unsure what to say. "So, er, hello, I'm umm… Rhoewia and I'm feeling kind of nervous right now…" I laughed, unsure what to do.
"Has any of you dwarves got enough manners to come and introduce yourselves?" Gandalf asked, giving them all glares. I felt more at ease, knowing he had my back. The white haired one stood up and came towards me, stopping a few feet in front of me. He bowed lowly, his beard sweeping against the floor.
"Balin, son of Fundin, at your service." He said in a wise voice. I immediately liked him, as he seemed kind and was obviously respected in the company. He turned around and cleared his throat, and the two brothers who looked alike rose up and stepped forward. Balin went back to his seat, and sat down.
"Gloin, son of Groin, at your service." He said bowing like Balin did but not as low. At the same time, his brother did the same.
"Oin, son of Groin, at your service." After standing up straight again, they retreated to their seats as the rest of the dwarves came up, sometimes in pairs and sometimes alone.
When they had all introduced themselves, Balin called to the dwarves at the entrance to the other cave, and told them to come down and join them. They shouted something unrecognisable into the cave, and descended down the slope to join their friends and sit around the fire. I did the same, sitting in the space on the log at the far end of the fire, on my own. The talkative dwarf, Bofur I think he was called came and sat next to me, humming a tune under his breath. I didn't recognise it, but liked it all the same, as it reminded me of a song I had been taught a long time ago. The younger dwarf, Ori, came and sat the other side of me, and started to draw something into his leather book. I leaned over, looking to see what he was doing. Suddenly, I gasped. He had drawn a beautiful young stag, with smooth brown eyes and a strong stature, and kingly stance. Ori looked up at me with surprise, and quickly slammed his book shut, but it was too late; I had already seen it.
"Ori!" I exclaimed. "That is absolutely beautiful!" He looked up at me and smiled shyly, and thanked me. Some movement from the cave entrance made me look up, and I saw three strong, young dwarves walking down to the fire.
The one on the left was one of the dwarves I had seen while watching from the tree. He had long blond hair with plaits, and had a long, mean sword strapped to his back. The one to the right had long dark wavy hair, with a bow and quiver of arrows, along with a sword. They both looked kind, but you could tell that if anything got between them and something they wanted; they were indestructible. I quickly averted my gaze from them and to the one in the middle. I froze in my chair, like a statue. I knew the one in the middle form somewhere, but I don't know where from. He had hair like the one to the right, but it was pushed back, and had a long fur coat on. He looked straight at me and stopped in his tracks. The two dwarves beside him looked at him with concerned eyes, but he didn't notice.
"Rhoewia?" He asked cautiously and I nodded slowly, flicking through memories to see where I knew him from. "Do you know who I am?" he said. I shook my head, but a cold sweat came over me, for some reason I didn't want to hear what he was going to say.
"Rhoewia," he said, "I am Thorin Oakenshield, of Erebor. I am your brother."