school is hectic. i got into this writing club called English Forum. the coordinator made us write a whole goddamn essay in under forty minutes. so yeah, i say it has been pretty busy. xDD

PLUS, my apostrophe and quotation-mark key is still broken.

chapter five coming up right after this. ;)

ALL RIGHTS GO TO JRR TOLKIEN AND PETER JACKSON. EXCEPT FOR ELIJAH AND FHEON. She is having girl problems.

Eleven weeks later…

As they waited atop what had been a particularly uncooperative slope, Fheon could not ignore the uncomfortable ache beneath her stomach. It had begun earlier that morning, and she had been lucky enough to have a pair of clean pants in her bag. Standing beside Elijah, she opened and closed her legs as subtly as she could, doing her best to get the rag into a more comfortable position. Her brother must have noticed her shifting, for he looked down at her with a frown. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"I don't think you'd want to know my problems right now," she muttered in reply, impatience already lacing her words.

"Oh…" His frown deepened. "Girl problems?"

"You could say that."

Just then, the Company appeared from a bend in the road; Thorin at front, as usual, followed by Gandalf, the dwarves, and then Bilbo in the middle of it all. Fheon was forced to hide her discomfort behind her usual blank gaze, but as she and her brother trudged further down the path Thorin had told them to follow, her hand would occasionally stray to her lower abdomen, where she would apply pressure so that the ache would disappear for a while. It was not a very consistent strategy.

At some point, she and Elijah came across a mangled ruin of a house. It was completely leveled, and Elijah, not knowing how Thorin or Gandalf would react, decided it was best to wait for them to catch up. Fheon wordlessly agreed. After telling her brother to wait for the Company, she ventured closer to the ruins of the house. Though she felt like it was too small to exactly be a house. It was more of a shack, really, with grey stone walls and wooden tiles for a roof. It reminded her of a house she would always pass by, when she was a child in Evendim. She quickly shook the thought away and knelt down to touch a dark spot on the ground. It was cool to the touch, despite it being a rather warm afternoon. When she pulled her finger away, the color had stuck to her skin. And when she brought the liquid to her nose, it smelled like blood.

Disturbed, she exited the ruins to find Thorin and the Company already trotting their ponies up the path. "We'll camp here for the night," said Thorin, dismounting his pony. "Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them."

While Elijah had gone off to inquire to Thorin about what help he could provide, Fheon pulled Gandalf aside and told him what she had found. A grim sort of expression appeared on his wrinkled face, and he walked into the old shack. He gazed around at the walls and ceilings as if he had been the one who used to live there. But that was not the case. "A farmer and his family used to live here," he said.

"What could have happened to them?" Fheon asked quietly.

"Wolves, perhaps."

"One wolf pack could not have caused such destruction to the furnishings, Gandalf. It was something much larger than wolves."

Behind them, Thorin was barking out orders. Fheon wondered if he had already given her brother something to do, for when Elijah got bored, he would spout things that were of no import ceaselessly. She noticed the King Under the Mountain start to make his way towards her, and she turned around.

"I think it would be wiser to move on," said Gandalf, facing Thorin. "We could make for the Hidden Valley."

The dwarf shook his head. He said, "I have told you already, I will not go near that place." Fheon did her best to seem as invisible as possible.

"Why not? The Elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice."

"I do not need their advice."

"We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us."

"Help?" The King's voice turned deadly somber. "A dragon attacks Erebor. What help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls… The Elves looked on and did nothing. And you ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father."

"You are neither of them," Gandalf continued to reason. "I did not give you that map and key for you to hold onto the past."

"I did not know that they were yours to keep." Thorin looked up at the wizard's face with cold eyes; Fheon knew that this was not fearlessness, but obstinacy. She shook her head as Gandalf whirled around and stormed off.

Bilbo was the only one oblivious enough to ask, "Gandalf, where are you going?"

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense."

Her brother, this time, "And who's that?"

"Myself, Elijah!"

Fheon stared after him in distress and scratched her head. "Well, there goes our only wizard," she muttered.

"You support his claims, then?" Thorin demanded from behind her. "That we should venture to Elven territory and seek aid there? I've heard Rangers have been quite friendly to elves as of late. I suppose you have something good to say about them."

Bristling, she turned around slowly and met his furious gaze, nearly losing grip of her controlled demeanor. "The Elves are a fancy, condescending race that is much too graceful for my liking," she replied evenly, a bit of a bite in her tone, which would not have been there if it were under different circumstances.

Thorin's eyes softened up. "At least we can agree on one thing," he said, making her blink in surprise.

She was about to walk away when she remembered the dark spot on the floor before. "Another thing," she said. "I found blood on the floors earlier, while you were on your way." Hearing this, Thorin turned serious again. "Best have two people on the watches tonight. It wasn't wolves that levelled this place." He nodded at her—whether in thanks or in understanding, she did not know. But she returned the gesture, before turning around and making way for her brother, who had already laid down his bedroll.

"Planning on sleeping early, are we?"

Elijah grinned. "Not at all," he said. "I'm quite looking forward to supper. Bombur's cooking rabbit stew."

Fheon made a hungry sound from the back of her throat as she flattened out her bedroll. "I sincerely hope his cooking is as good as Hiram's. Speaking of Hiram…" She frowned. "When was the last time you heard of him?"

Elijah thought for a moment, before saying, "Cali sent me one of his messages a few weeks back. He was just asking how the quest was turning out. Haven't gotten one from him since."

She sighed and sat down beside her brother. "You can't help but miss the company."

"Aye, have to agree with you on that one."

Bombur's rabbit stew did not disappoint. If Fheon closed her eyes and ignored the noises of the dwarves enough, she could have been sitting in the forests of the Shire, around the campfire with Hiram telling ghost stories. But she soon had to return to the present, and meet the eyes of a bumbling Bifur, who asked for her empty bowl. She gave it to him and took a few swigs of her water, frowning when she found that it was almost empty and making a mental note to have the Company refill theirs at the first freshwater source they could find. She wrapped her cloak tightly around her. As Elijah continued eating, she let her ears hone in on a conversation not very far from them.

"He's been gone a long time," said Bilbo.

Bofur made a curious noise from the back of his throat. "Who?"

"Gandalf."

"He's a wizard! He does as he chooses. Here, do us a favor." The dwarf handed Bilbo two bowls full of the rabbit stew and said, "Take this to the lads." Fheon could only presume that by 'lads' he meant Fili and Kili, for they were the only ones not by the campfire—except for Thorin, but he had been handed his share minutes ago. She watched Bilbo saunter off, away from the light of the fire, and then switched her gaze to her brother, who had been playing with her braid.

"What?" she exasperated softly.

"Your hair's grown longer again."

"Must I explain to you again how hair works—?"

"It's never been this long before," he interrupted stubbornly. "Not back at The Shire. Why are you letting it grow out?"

"Perhaps I like braiding it every morning and night," she answered amusedly. "It's stress-relieving."

Her brother was quiet for a moment, before saying, "Maybe I should let my hair grow out too."

Fheon chuckled. "You'll have to learn how to braid first." When she felt her braid loosen and come apart completely as he ran his fingers through it, she shot to her feet and leapt away. "No, I am not letting you make a complete bird's nest out of my hair."

"But I thought you wanted me to learn!"

"Grow your hair out, and then learn—by braiding your own hair."

"That's no fun." He crossed his arms and feigned sadness. For a while, Fheon stayed on her feet and stared down at her brother, amused at his attempts. But then she grew quite tired of the charade—as she had already been tired since the beginning of the day. She assumed a cross-legged position on her bedroll and combed out her long tresses. "Fine," she said, caving in and whipping her hair behind her. "Learn then."

Elijah hummed as he ran his fingers through her hair. "You'll have to teach me, of course."

"Divide the hair into three parts," she ordered softly. "Make sure they're even, alright? Good. Then cross the left bit over the middle bit."

"Am I supposed to let go of the others?"

"Wow, Elijah. I knew you were daft, but not this much."

She could hear the smile on his face when he said, "What's next?"

"Cross the right bit over the middle bit." He did so. "Then just repeat until you reach the end."

For minutes on end, her brother weaved her hair as ungracefully as she had expected. He would ask, "Over?" and then Fheon would say "Yes", and then only seconds afterwards would he ask again: "Over?" to which, she would, as patiently as she could, repeat her original answer. Midway through his braiding, Fheon felt something vibrate against the heels of her feet. She lifted her leg and found nothing there, just the grass. However, when she placed her feet back down on the ground, the trembling was still there. She frowned.

"There!" said Elijah, his hands letting go of her hair. "Finished!" Fheon brought a hand to the back of her head and felt the braid he had attempted. Several strands of hair were sticking out, and the tie he had made with her hair bond was a mess, but at least he got the initial idea of it, the pattern.

She glanced at him over her shoulder and smirked. "I did not know my brother was such a fast-learner."

"Did I do well, then?"

"Keep practicing and I might just let you braid my hair every day."

"Oh no," he said, wagging a finger at her. "You'll have to do that on your own. Soon, I will have my own long locks to braid." He ran his fingers through his hair in a playful manner.

Fheon smiled, rather half-heartedly, and said nothing in reply, for she had registered that the quaking beneath her feet was not an animal or an object, but the ground itself. Alarmed, she scanned the clearing for a dwarf who was jumping up and down, but found none. She turned her head, opened her mouth to say something to Elijah, when her ears pricked upwards at the sound of a pony nickering quite loudly.

Elijah had heard as well. In a much louder voice compared to their recent hushed tones, he said, "Say, are Fili and Kili still watching the ponies?"

"Yes," was Thorin's gruff reply. He was sitting a few ways away from the campfire, enveloped in darkness. His bowl was still in his hands, the soup unfinished.

Fheon frowned. "I suppose Bilbo just got caught up with their shenanigans then—"

She was cut off by a noise that resounded all across the clearing. It wasn't the ponies, this time; it sounded like a wolf barking except much more… feral. Fheon shot to her feet the very same moment the rest of the Company did. Her eyes went to where the noise had come from, for it was now being followed with brusque screams, yet high-pitched at the same time, if that was even possible. Thorin grabbed his sword off the ground and ran for where Fili and Kili had been stationed. The rest of the dwarves trailed after him like ants, and then Elijah. Fheon would have as well if her brother hadn't pointed a finger at her and looked at her with serious eyes.

He said, "Watch the camp," before running off into the night.

He had never—never left her behind in a situation like this before. Furious, Fheon slapped her palm to the ground and stomped forward; about to make for them, but her common sense was able to break past her impatience. The whole thirteen of them were already there… plus Elijah… plus Bilbo… She was starting to think that the whole problem would be solved in no time, when she remembered that the thirteen people there were dwarves. The creature that could have made the noise before sounded treacherous, and it was probably large enough to be causing the quaking of the ground that was still going on. Whether or not Fheon would be able to help when she arrived at the scene, she did not know. But there was one other person who would, no doubt, know what to do.

"Where has that wizard gone off to?" she grumbled to herself as she left her position by the fire.

With an arrow nocked, she noiselessly trekked down the path the Company had come from that afternoon, knowing it was the road Gandalf had followed. Surely he had not gone very far, knowing the dwarves, and she was right. She found his towering figure sitting on a pile of boulders, not ten miles away, and called his name. He looked over at her slowly, calmly, and then said, "Ah, I was just about to ask what the noise was about. Has Bombur been dancing again—?"

"Something's gotten to the ponies," Fheon explained hurriedly, "and I think to Fili and Kili as well. The dwarves have all gone there."

Gandalf got to his feet immediately, already trailing back up the path. "Did they say what's gotten to them?"

She shook her head. "I can't be sure. It might be—"

A noise similar to the one they had heard before echoed from the woods to their left. Gandalf froze, finishing her statement: "Trolls." He ran straight into the tree-line, brandishing his staff. "Come, I will need your much agiler body."

"With what?"

"Distracting them!"

Without another word, Fheon followed him into the forest, returning the arrow into her quiver. She caught something from the corner of her eye and looked to find that it was Myrtle running the other way. Behind her, three more ponies followed. It was not long after that before they heard the loud, rough voices of the trolls, accompanied by the soft spitting of a fire, and noisy grumbling of dwarves.

"They should be sautéed and grilled, with a sprinkle o' sage."

"Tha' does sound quite nice."

"Never mind the seasoning. We ain't got all night! Dawn ain't far away. Let's get a move on! I don't fancy bein' turned to stone."

Fheon stayed hidden behind a tree, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head. From where she was, she could see the backsides of the three trolls holding some of her dwarf friends over the spit. Past that was the rest of the Company, stuck in sacks—to be cooked in a later time. Her grip on her bow tightened when she saw her brother amidst the wriggling pile of dwarves.

"Wait!" Bilbo called. "You are making a terrible mistake."

"You can't reason with them. They're half-wits!" yelled Dori.

"Half-wits!" said Bofur. "What does that make us?"

"I meant with the, uh—with the seasoning," Bilbo continued, hopping to his feet.

One of the trolls leaned down and looked at him seriously. "Wha' about the seasoning?"

"Well, have you smelt them?"

Fheon caught on to what the burglar was going for, and smiled in approval. Beside her, Gandalf pointed to a large boulder to their left, the only thing that seemed to be separating the clearing from the cliffs beyond. She noticed the sky turning slightly purple and nodded to Gandalf, whispering, "Go. I'll handle it if things go too far." The wizard nodded before weaving through the mess of trees and, not after long, disappeared. She returned her attention to the trolls.

"…the—the secret to cooking dwarf is," Bilbo was saying. "Is, um…"

"Yes? Come on, tell us the secret."

"It's—it's uh… Yes, I'm telling you. The secret is… tooooo skin them first!" His statement was met with an uproar from the dwarves, swearing that they were going to skin him when they escaped.

"Tom, get me filleting knife," one of the trolls ordered.

"Wha' a load of rubbish," said another. "I've eaten plenty with their skins on. Scarf 'em, I say, boots and all!"

"He's right. Nothin' wrong with a bit o' raw dwarf," the smallest troll agreed, before proceeding to pick Bombur up from the pile of dwarves, holding him above his mouth. "Nice and crunchy—"

"Not that one!" Bilbo shouted. "He—he's infected!"

"Huh?!"

"You wha'?"

Bilbo nodded vigorously. "He's got worms—in his tubes."

The troll dropped Bombur immediately, and Fheon slunk back into the woods, making her way to the dwarves as Bilbo continued playing for time. Once she was close enough, she pressed herself against the rough trunk of a tree and carefully peeked out. The closest dwarf to her was Thorin, who lay at the head of the pile atop large roots. Bilbo had only recently stated that the dwarves were full of parasites, and now they were yelling at him again.

Aggravated, Fheon gave Thorin's shoulder a quick swipe from behind the tree, and hissed, "Shut them up." She sensed him jump at the sound of her voice, and then there was a hard thud, followed by agreeing statements from the dwarves, yelling that they were riddled with worms. Fheon whispered, "Where are your weapons?"

"They threw them away," Thorin murmured in reply.

Then, seeing the largest troll start to walk for their pile, Fheon slunk deeper against the tree again, planting her bow on the ground. "Wha' would you have us do then?" she heard the troll demand. "Let 'em all go?" The irked tone was obvious in his voice and, hearing this, Fheon unsheathed her sword. "You think I don't know wha' you're up to? This little ferret is takin' us for fools!"

"Ferret?" was Bilbo's small-voiced retort.

"Fools?" another troll said, before letting out a monstrous roar and swiping Bilbo off his feet. Bilbo yelped in surprise, continuing to spout out nonsense about him being riddled with dung beetles and snakes and other vermin of the sort. But the troll did not repent, growling ever more fervently. And though Fheon wondered what was taking Gandalf so long, she saw this as the perfect time to spring into action. So she did.

Tightening her grip on her sword, she jumped out from behind the tree and quickly took note of the circumstances. The second largest troll held Bilbo above his opened maw; his two companions were still standing by the fire, far enough to be safe, but not enough to reassure Fheon. She acted quietly, though the trolls were still surprised at her sudden appearance. She leapt onto the knee of Bilbo's keeper and kicked upwards onto his arm. She swung her sword at his wrist, making sure it dug into the skin, no matter how deep. The troll shouted, dropping Bilbo to swipe at her. She jumped onto his shoulder and slipped her leg beneath his ear, and then did the same with her other leg, occasionally swinging her sword to cut at the troll's restless hand, swatting at her like she was a bee.

Fheon dug her sword deep into the troll's shoulder, no doubt blunting the blade. The troll screeched in pain as she spoke in a low tone, addressing him as well as his companions: "If you make a move against me again, this"—she dug her blade deeper—"will go straight into your eye." The troll beneath her nodded his head vigorously, making her have to lean back so she wouldn't be pushed off. "Good." Ignoring the queasy feeling that had appeared in her stomach, she unsheathed her sword from the troll's skin and wiped it on his head. It only occurred to her that it was a bad idea when a snarl ripped through the troll's throat.

Faster than she could blink, his hand flew in from the side and swiped her clean off his neck. Her back collided with the rough bark of a tree, leaving her dazed and breathless. But before she could even slide to the ground, one of the trolls had her in his hand and was squeezing the life out of her.

He growled. "I'm gonna bite your head clean off—"

"THE DAWN WILL TAKE YOU ALL!"

Her head snapped to the side, and she saw Gandalf standing atop the boulder he had pointed at before. Taking advantage of the temporary confusion of the trolls, he brought his staff down on the huge rock. A crack appeared before the stone separated, and light filled the clearing. The troll holding onto Fheon dropped her. She landed painfully on her side, still blinking away the dots that had appeared in her vision. When they were all but gone, the groaning of the trolls stopped and she was met with the sight of giant, vaguely humanoid-shaped stones.

Cheers erupted from the dwarves behind Fheon. She gingerly picked herself up and back onto her feet. When she turned around, Thorin, Bilbo and Elijah were the only ones not rejoicing, only staring at her.

She regarded her brother and the Dwarf King with a peeved look, and then said to Bilbo, "You're welcome."

so what do you think has got her stomach in a knot? ;)

REVIEEEWWWW!