Rising as one of the last, I did not have the opportunity to change my clothes, though that did not appear to be too problematic for none but Bilbo had bothered to do so either. I settled for checking my bag was in order and folding away my blanket. I was still left with nothing to do long before anyone else would be ready. My hair was knotted and tangled all about my face, it would be beneficial to braid it, yet any attempts to braid my own hair would surely be disastrous, I proceeded with determination. The real problem for me was not being able to see the braid on the back of my hair, nor was I really able to reach properly in order to keep up the tension in each strand. I groaned in frustration as I raked my hands through yet another failed braid.

I was about to resume my practice when a pair of rough hands batted my own away. The hands gently positioned my head so as I could not peek at whom the hands belonged to. Skilled fingers weaved strands of gold in what felt like an intricate plait that trailed down my spine.

"Kili?" I guessed, who else would be so willing to help me? Bilbo would have, of course, but his braids were not nearly so delicate.

The plait-maker chuckled, tying the end if my hair with string. "The young one is not nearly as talented as I, much as he likes to believe." I know that voice – but it could not be…

I turned to find none other than Thorin smirking down at me with an unbelievable Kili-like playfulness. "Though, I do doubt that he is somewhat better at it than you."

"In my defence, I find it far easier not on my own hair." I defended, sticking out my tongue in a child-like manner.

Thorin's expression did not alter. "We shall see. Fili, come here." He beckoned over the young Dwarf - whom had been trying to push his brother into a nearby stream; he had almost been successful too!

Fili rushed forth, his head hung low as though expecting to be reprimanded.

Thorin ordered the Dwarf to sit, something that Fili did without question. I doubted anyone would disobey Thorin without good reason. "Begin," Thorin commanded.

By the direction of his gaze, pointedly glaring at the back of Fili's head, I gathered I was to demonstrate my braiding skills. Why did I have to tell him I had talent in this? My hands shook as I combed out his tangled mane with my fingers. Carefully, yet swiftly I separated strands, entwining them into the intricate design of consecutive waterfall braids that zigzagged down his head and onto his shoulders. Once finished, I could not help but be proud of my work on Fili's now patterned locks, for the toil of my hands it seemed beyond my capabilities and yet I had managed to pull it off. I tried not to let my expression become too smug.

Thorin, on the other hand, did not. His sneer had emerged once more, twisting his features, which had been quite agreeable, into their familiar pattern of superiority. "I have seen Dwarf children with greater talent than that. It is perhaps in your favour that you were not blessed with Dwarven blood, you would make a hideous wife if you cannot even braid a male's hair properly." The Dwarf snickered, slashing his fingers - none too gently - through Fili's hair to dislodge my work before marching away, satisfaction etched into every inch of his face.

How dare he say such a thing?! "I would not wish to marry a stupid Dwarf anyway!" I muttered under my breath, thoroughly seething.

"What about an intelligent one?" I did not have to turn around to know whom it was that spoke. That voice was as familiar to me as my own now.

"Well let me know when you stumble across one of those, would you?" I retorted, perhaps a little more harshly than I should have, but Thorin's comment had hurt. A lot.

I ignored Kili's quiet: "I were only joking, miss" and stormed across camp to see my cousin, the only other non-dwarf I could see. How am I to manage amongst these creatures for any extended period of time when I could hardly speak a moment with their leader without insult? The man was a sexist, insufferable pig and I would be glad to be free of him! To my downfall, I have agreed to follow this troop until the end; whether that means I burn by dragon fire or Thorin's temper, I know not. He had been so kind in helping me, only to humiliate me moments later. The Dwarf-leader was nothing less than infuriating.

For most of the days trek I sulked, occasionally contributing to conversation and even then, only when it involved Gandalf and Bilbo alone - not that any but the youngest Dwarves so much as tried to gain my participation. Dwarves were known for their stubbornness, but they would soon learn that my own could vastly outdo any efforts of stubbornness that they were able to muster. A fact I was not entirely disapproving of.

By the time we were stopped and making preparations for supper and sleep, even Fili and Kili had quit in their attempts to engage me in any sort of interaction and, though I definitely felt rather guilty about that, I cannot say that the silence I found myself drowning in was entirely unpleasant; it gave me space to think things through. Why had I joined this company in the first place? That was easy: the Shire, though I loved it so, had grown boring and I wanted to explore the world beyond my front door. There was also the element of my living up to my mother's reputation, I wanted her to be proud of me. A small part, that grew by the day, even desired me to have my own stories to tell – or for others to tell in the (likely) event of my demise.

Joining this particular party may have been a slight mistake, given that their leader is utterly horrid, but if I had not it may have been a lifetime before another quest came along and as much as the lure of adventure had enchanted me; I was not so ensnared by it as to venture out alone. I would simply have to endure; to learn to tolerate the strange and turbulent moods of Dwarves, just as they would mine.

I pushed aside my annoyance with Thorin, it should not affect my feelings for the others, sighing, and gradually re-joined the bubbling river of conversation. Before too long, however, grumpy, authoritative Thorin was in full swing; he ordered myself, Bombur and Balin to get to work with the stew that was to be tonight's meal. I would not be used to two meals a day for a very long time. Others had been selected for various other tasks, such a scouting and watching the ponies.

A while later Gandalf thundered from the camp, muttering about needing to take counsel with someone who had sense and how irritating Dwarf stubbornness was. I secretly agreed with him; whatever he had been trying to advise Thorin on had not been taken the slightest bit of notice. It soothed me to know that I would not be the only one in Thorin's bad books, not matter how selfish such a thing may seem.

"Miss?" Balin spoke up, gaining my attention, "would you please take these to Fili and Kili?" He asked, politely gesturing to two bowls of stew.

I smiled up at the elderly Dwarf, "Of course."

The brothers were not far from camp, watching the ponies as Thorin had bid them. They both stood with their backs to me, dutifully keeping an eye on the grazing animals. I inwardly noted with faint surprise that the blond Dwarf had redone the same braids I had done earlier, though now they were somewhat more elegant than I remembered.

"Fili? Kili?" I called. Neither turned. "Boys?" Again, no reply. I sighed, "Boys, I am dreadfully sorry for my behaviour earlier, but really; ignoring me is not going to solve a single thing!" I burst. Still no answer.

I came up alongside them forced a bowl into each of their hands, "I said I was sorry!"

Fili blinked, "Excuse me?"

"Oh, do not pretend you did not hear me; I have apologised for being grumpy, please do not ignore me." I pleaded.

Fili blanched, "We did not hear,"

Kili looked confused, but then again; he often did. "Forgive us, we were… preoccupied."

I rose an eyebrow, "With?"

Kili simply pointed in the direction of the ponies. There was something off about the picture, yet I could not for the life of me figure out just what could be missing. Missing. There were trees missing and torn at the roots. There were two ponies fewer than before.

"We're supposed to be watching the ponies," Kili stated in monotone.

"Only, we've encountered a slight problem." Fili explained, clearly trying to make it seem less of a disaster.

"Which is-"

Kili cut me off, "We had seventeen."

"Now there's fifteen." Fili finished.

"Unlucky." I whispered. Fifteen was the most unlucky number imaginable for Hobbits.

The corner of the youngest Dwarf's mouth quirked, "A little."

"Even more so when Uncle finds out." The older brother said, quelling the other's playful smirk at once.

Something snagged at the corners of my mind. 'Uncle'. Whom could be their uncle amongst this party? It had to be someone respected for them to fear his finding out. Of course. It had to be: Thorin. Why had they not cared to mention such a thing to me? I suppose it matters not, but it would have been nice to have been forewarned. Yet again, it was obvious now I thought about it; had I not seen Kili's easy smile playing on the leader's lips only this morning? I felt stupid for not having seen it.

Just at that moment, a flustered Bilbo appeared, two steaming bowls in hand. "Veyra!" He said, his voice filled with a stern quality I had rarely seen before. "You had not taken your own food with you!"

Trust Bilbo to be angry when I miss a meal. "I had planned to go back for it." I assured him – and I had, I was after all half-Hobbit; I was very unlikely to skip a meal, especially when I had been cut down from seven to two a day.

The brothers, however, seemed just as critical as Bilbo, as though they had thought I was not eating. The concern would have been touching if I were not certain that they only felt such concern due to the affliction of my being female. I let it go. I could not afford more grumpiness really.

"Two of the ponies went missing on their watch," I told the Hobbit hoping that I would be let off the hook, and avoiding the betrayed glances the brothers launched my way.

"Daisy and Bungo are missing." Kili told Bilbo.

"Well that's not good," Bilbo chuckled as he surveyed the area, "That's not good at all, shouldn't we tell Thorin?"

Fili rushed to demonstrate how unnecessary informing his uncle would be. "Um, no. Let's not worry him."

Bilbo's eyes widened upon noticing the uprooted trees. "Looks like something big took them." He put in cautiously.

"That's what we were thinking," Kili replied in agreement.

"What do you suppose it was?" Bilbo enquired curiously.

Fili wasted no time in answering. "We were hoping you could tell us."

Kili's eyes alighted, an idea evidently taking shape in his mind. "Bilbo! You're a burglar, right?"

Bilbo nodded uncertainly, "That I am, or so Gandalf tells me."

"So how's about you show us what you're made of." Fili gestured to the trail of fallen trees. "As our official burglar, we thought you might like to look into it."

I could guess where they were going to take this and was vehemently against it. "No," I warned them.

Fili took no notice, "All you'd have to do is follow the trail-" He said this whilst pushing the Hobbit ahead of him as he went along the path of destruction, "-and lead the ponies back once you've found them. All quiet like."

This was a terrible idea. Bilbo was no burglar and this type of reconnaissance mission would surely bode ill for him.

"Look, a light up ahead." Kili informed us, his eyes the keenest of our quartet.

Fili stopped at some bushes close to where a fire crackled in the centre of a round space of grass. Three enormous creatures were sat around said fire, the ponies not far away; enclosed in a make-shift pen. The beasts were vast and flabby, their guts hanging low over their sullied trousers; they each wore trousers and a vest, and all were in a state of decay and filthiness such as I had never seen; their eyes were higher upon the head than I would have thought practical and all shared a constant expression of furious bafflement; and the stench! The stench was unbearable; it was like rotting rubbish and boiling bog all at once. I had to resist the urge to gag.

"What is it?" Bilbo asked. Neither of us had ever looked upon such ghastly beings and I for one would never hope to again.

It was Kili who gave us our answer. "Trolls." He growled.

"You go and get them," Fili ordered to Bilbo, gesturing to the ponies.

Bilbo blanched. "Me?"

Kili smiled, "Of course, you're so small; they'll never notice you! They're slow and stupid. It's perfectly safe; we'll be right behind you."

"Go," Fili urged.

"If you get into trouble hoot twice like a barn owl, once like a brown owl." Kili nodded to himself.

Despite my exasperated look and rolling of my eyes, Bilbo scurried away in the direction of the creatures. I could hear him muttering away to himself. I sighed, I will have to follow him. I crept out of the bushes only to have my arm grabbed, none too gently, from behind me.

"Where do you think you're going?" The owner of the hands still securing me in place, Kili, asked.

I yanked my arm free, "I'm going right behind him!" I could tell by the exasperated turn his expression took that he had not wanted me to take his words quite so literally. "What are you so scared of?" I questioned, expecting no answer and not receiving one.

This time he did not stop me. I crept forward, my toes brushing the edge of the fire-light circle. A pair of weather-worn boots echoed my steps – Kili. The vile creatures were gathered around a boiling pot, quibbling about the lack of 'real' food – one of them complaining that they did not even like horse meat. I could no longer see Bilbo. Until something disastrous happened.

One of the beasts picked a dirt-stained handkerchief from a pocket and violently blew its nose; that is when I located Bilbo's whereabouts.

"Look what just come out me hooter!" Crowed the handkerchief wielding Troll.

"What is it?" Another asked.

The first shrugged, "I don't know, but I don't like the way it wriggles about!" He replied.

"Let's cook it!" A third suggested.

The second examined Bilbo closely, a colossal bogey swinging from his left nostril threatening dangerously to collide with the side of the poor Hobbit's face. "Wouldn't make more than a mouthful, once it's skinned and boned."

I slid my palm into the top of my boot, silently releasing the blade hidden there. Kili gave me a sidelong smirk as he unsheathed his own at his hip. In comparison my blade was dainty and ornate next to his scruffy, worn-looking broadsword. Mine looked as though it could barely slice an apple compared to his, though I knew that was not the case.

The Troll gave the tiny Hobbit a substantial shake, I could almost hear Bilbo's bones rattling about inside him.

"Drop him!" Ordered a suddenly unconcealed Kili. He had leapt from our hiding place just in time to save Bilbo from being dropped into the greasy Troll's leering, slobbering jaws, the beast all but lost hold of the poor fellow that was his captive he was so startled.

"You what?" Mumbled the Troll dully. His hand now gripped the Halfling in a grip tighter than any vice I had ever observed, Bilbo's face had contorted into a worrying shade of purple.

The sight of my cousin's suffering was enough to tear me from my surprise at Kili's outburst. I crept dangerously into view, sidling up to Kili.

"Drop him. Or else," We growled in unison.

The Troll took a few moments to consider this threat. "Have it your way then," It sneered launching the stumbling Hobbit toward us.

Bilbo was flung right into Kili's chest, knocking the both to the ground with a sickening crunch. The Hobbit seemed to have knocked the very breath from within the lungs of both men. The gasping grunts echoed about my ears in a cacophony of wheezing pain.

Without thinking, I spurted into action; my blade knowing what I wanted it to do, where I wanted it to be before I even knew it myself. I had hacked away at two or three ankles before I realised that I was not alone in my attempts to render the trolls harmless, the entire Company had no doubt heard the commotion and were slashing at any limbs they could reach – not that our efforts were doing any good at all. All too easily, the leader Troll had scooped poor Bilbo into his palms once more.

"Drop your arms," It ordered, "Or we'll whip his off." The threat was punctuated by small squeaks from the Hobbit as the Trolls tugged none too gently at each of his limbs.

Unconsciously I looked to Kili for help, I knew not what to do; one side of me suspected that the threat was empty and only intended as a means to ensure that we stopped our blades biting into their thick hides, the other side knew the Trolls would and could easily dismember each of us whilst we still attacked.

Kili set his gaze to Thorin, waiting, as everyone else did, for confirmation on what to do. The Dwarf took a moment to consider his options and, upon seeing no way out of this mess, stuck his sword haughtily into the earth. His youngest nephew turned and nodded to me, throwing his own blade down petulantly. Mine followed his and soon the entire Company had forlornly dropped their arms.

The Trolls leered malevolently, each hoisting a dwarf or two in each hand and stuffing them unceremoniously into itchy, brown sacks.

"Vey! RUN!"

I tried to run as Kili had ordered, but it was not enough. At the Dwarf's shout a Troll had plucked me from the ground the moment my legs began to move. I was squeezed until I ceased my wriggling and slid, slightly more delicately than the Dwarves, into a foul scented sack and thrown to the top of the Dwarf pile, landing heavily upon Bombur and Kili.

I had landed face-down and could not roll over, I had been jammed into the smallest container and could not move an inch, so I did not see that half of the Dwarves had been tied to a spit that hung low over the roaring fire. I did hear it though, half the forest must have heard the complaints and threats made by the outraged Dwarves.

All of my vision was taken up by the face of Kili whom, now Bombur had been picked from the pile, had my full weight atop him, our bodies flush against one another – an occurrence which would have been embarrassing enough had we been close friends, but having only known him a matter of days made the episode far more uncomfortable.

I tried once more to shuffle myself off of the youngest Dwarf, whose entire body went rigid beneath my movements.

"Stop doing that!" He snapped accusingly through clenched teeth. His face softened at my own confused gaze, it upset me that he should be so abrupt when I was only trying to do what I could to ensure my weight did not crush him. "I'm sorry," He whispered, seeming to guess the reason behind my slight hurt, "Just please, try and stay still."

I nodded, slowly understanding why the Dwarf would not desire me to be moving too much atop him. He was a male after all. A blush crept its way up along my neck, filling my cheeks with its rosy tint. I could not quite look him in the eye for a few moments and I definitely ceased all movement, even stilling my breathing as much as I were able.

The Trolls were arguing about how best to serve the Dwarves, myself and Bilbo. It all sounded ghastly; Dwarf Jam, boiled Dwarf and all seasoned with sage? Yuck. It did not sound pleasant - besides, I was allergic to sage as it so happened.

"Wait," Cried Bilbo. "You can't eat them like that,"

"And why's that?" Challenged a Troll.

Bilbo seemed to struggle a moment for an answer, "Because it will taste horrendous!"

"And I suppose you know the secret to cooking Dwarf then?" A second Troll replied.

"As a matter of fact I do." Bilbo proclaimed proudly. "The secret is…"

What in Middle-Earth was the fellow doing?! Offering cooking tips and how best to serve us up! The nerve!

"The secret is?" Echoed the first Troll.

Bilbo sighed, "Yes, yes, I'm getting to it!" He growled impatiently. "The secret is… the secret is to… to… to skin them alive!"

My hopes of a rescue from Bilbo had diminished completely lost amongst the calls of 'traitor!' and 'idiot!' that came from both the pile beneath me and those on the fire. From the sounds of it Bombur was still in the hands of a Troll.

"Nonsense," piped up the third Troll, "I've eaten plenty with their skin on. Nothing better than a bit of raw Dwarf, I eat 'em bones an' all!" It sounded as though this was the Troll who held Bombur.

"I wouldn't eat that one if I were you," Bilbo interjected.

"And why not?"

Bilbo chuckled nervously, a trait that I shared also. "Because... he's got worms… in his… tubes!" Bilbo stumbled out. "In fact they all have, completely infested. Nasty business, I really wouldn't risk it if I were you."

A heavy thud and a large groan informed me that Bombur had been thrown aside.

"Infested?" Screamed Gloin indignantly.

Fili tried to untie himself, and failed, "You're a liar!"

"We don't have parasites, you have parasites!" Accused Kili from beneath me.

I rolled my eyes at the Dwarf under me, "Shh!" I hissed.

Thorin seemed to hear me and gave Kili a rough kick through his sack.

"I've got parasites!" I shouted.

Kili gave me a confused stare as though I had gone mad before slowly catching on, "Mine are the biggest parasites!" He claimed, grinning proudly up at me, "I've got parasites as big as my arm!"

Within seconds the whole Company had begun to boast of their parasites as though it were a competition as to who could be the most infected and Kili appeared to be desperately attempting to be the King of the Parasite-infected with all of his absurd proclamations. I had to prevent myself from giggling and giving the whole game away more than once, which only went on the drive the youngest Dwarf to think up even more ridiculous claims, all the while beaming at me.

"What would you have us do?" Interrogated one of the Trolls, turning on Bilbo and ignoring the Dwarves assertions.

A second Troll chimed in, "I suppose you'd have us let them all go then?" He growled.

"Well…" Stalled Bilbo. "You certainly could do that."

"You'd like that wouldn't you! There's nothing wrong with them, I recon!" Assured the third Troll.

"THE DAWN WILL TAKE YOU ALL!" Boomed a magnificently majestic voice that could only belong to the wizard. Gandalf had returned.

"Who's that?" Muttered the first Troll

The second Troll seemed stumped, "I dunno,"

"Can we eat him too?" The third Troll was a buffoon.

There was a tremendous cracking noise and suddenly the clearing was no longer lit only by fire, but the brilliant first lights of the day were infesting every corner they could touch. Only then did I remember the Old Took telling me stories of how Trolls would turn to stone should they meet sunlight. I do not doubt that is exactly the fate that brought the stony silence over our captors.

People were being cut free from their bindings and bags all around me, a cautious Fili gently bringing me to my feet and delicately cutting the bag tie at my throat, concentrating hard so that his blade did not knick my skin. He did the same as he pulled Kili up, giving him a relieved embrace once he was done.

"I see you cannot stay out of trouble," chuckled Gandalf.

"No thanks to your burglar," Thorin muttered huffily.

Ugh. Bilbo's stalling may well have been the difference between us living or being made into jelly, did he not understand that?

Gandalf gave the Dwarf leader a disapproving look, "At least he had the nous to play for time, none of the rest of you thought of that." He responded in a stern tone.

Thorin swept to the ponies in the pretence of ensuring their well-fare. If it were not for my desire to follow this quest until the very end I would have screamed at such an arrogant act, however, I held my tongue for the moment.

Tonight Alive - What Are You So Scared Of?