fair warning: this is a bit of a filler chapter, of which, i am so so SO sorry. but the next two chapters will have loads of action, so stay tuned for that. ;)

All rights go to JRR Tolkien and Peter Jackson. Except for Elijah and Fheon. They're mine. They SO dead (... figuratively.)

:)

Fheon was shaken out of her dreamless slumber. Wearily, she opened her eyes to find Elijah looking down at her. She pushed his hand away from her shoulder and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, mumbling, "What is it?"

"We're leaving," he said, slapping her cheek lightly. "Come on, get up."

"Leaving…?" His weight disappeared from the top of the bed, leaving her to sit up by herself and pull the sheets off her body. She must have fallen asleep while waiting for him to come back last night… She stood up and started lacing her boots on, the urgency in his statement finally registering to her. Memories of yesterday slowly seeped into her half-asleep mind. "The rest of my clothes," she started, "The maids took them—"

Her brother cut her off by tossing her a familiar, forest-green coat. She raised an eyebrow. He only shrugged, saying, "Thorin wants us to be gone by sunrise."

"And does he still?" she asked, just noticing that the sky outside was still dark, but dawn was not far.

"Yes."

Nodding, Fheon returned her belt to her waist and strapped her sheathed sword there. She clicked the clasps of her cloak together, slipped her pack, bow, and quiver over her shoulder and then followed Elijah out the door. "Have they at least smuggled some food for the trip?" she inquired quietly.

"Of course," said Elijah, throwing her a cheeky grin. "You may not know it, but the two of us think alike more than you realize."

They kept their footsteps light as they wordlessly trekked down the many hallways of the building. Bilbo, Thorin and the Company awaited them at the entrance they had first taken into the city. The dwarves were carrying much more bags than they had been yesterday, and Fheon knew that it was mostly food and water inside. Though she noticed that one person was missing from their group, and asked, "Where is Gandalf?"

"We will stop at the mountains a week from now and wait for him there," said Balin. "He will follow."

"The mountains?"

"The Misty Mountains," Thorin clarified hurriedly. "There is no way over them, so we go through. But we have a deadline: before the summer ends, I want us long past the mountains. So I hope you will be able to meet our expectations, Rangers."

Fheon stared at him blankly, not saying anything. Was he really telling her to keep up? Their journey took longer than it was supposed to because of the dwarves' constant need for food. If they did not need to stop for lunch, they would have been able to journey much farther than where they were now. But, since Thorin could not read minds, a moment had barely passed before he turned around and started leading them out of Rivendell. No guards were about, surprisingly, and the very little of them were easy to slip past. Fheon silently followed behind her brother, a fire rekindled in her. She would prove herself to the King Under the Mountain; she would prove herself to be more than just a weak, female human.

As it turned out, the many bags of food the dwarves had smuggled out of Rivendell mostly consisted of bread. Only Bombur, Bifur and Bofur had meat in their packs, and that was what they ate for the following three days that came; for breakfast and supper. As soon as she could on the first day, Fheon told Thorin about her concerns regarding the timeliness of their trip—regarding stopping for lunch. He only nodded before calling out to his kin.

And so, for three days, they prioritized the meat they had for major meals, and ate the bread all throughout the day whenever they got too hungry. It worked out just fine, for Fheon and Elijah were able to save up on arrows. Not much predators roamed the mountains. The bears that lumbered by ignored them, making way for the streams to fish for food. The mountain lions that would come near, Fheon and Elijah shot down, but none of the Company dared harvest their meat for food. There were not much wolves, but Thorin still made sure to continue the night watches. None of them forgot their encounter with the orcs, and so they kept wary for another attack.

It was the morning of the fourth day; Fheon shook her brother awake then gave him a hard pat on the cheek—payback for how he had done it during that final morning in Rivendell. He stared up at her with drowsy, confused eyes. "I spotted a river a few miles out from here," she explained quietly, so as to not rouse the others. "We're going fishing."

"Why?" Elijah asked, but pulled his cloak on anyway and readied his weapons.

"I don't know if you've noticed, brother," said Fheon, "but there aren't much deer or rabbits to be found in this particular mountain. We can't take too long with looking for food; we are on a schedule, as His Majesty has stated before." She glanced sideways to make sure Thorin was soundly asleep, before gently shaking Bilbo's shoulder. The hobbit's eyes snapped open and he looked at Fheon with an alarmed expression. "We're going to hunt for food," she told him. "Do you mind staying up to watch the others until we get back?"

He hurried into a sitting position immediately, mumbling, "Of course, of course, I—I wouldn't mind…"

Smiling softly, she patted his shoulder before turning around. "Come, Elijah," she said.

When they were far enough away and the loud gurgling of the river had reached their ears, Elijah muttered to her, "You know we have never been taught how to fish, yes?"

She kept her eyes on the river, uncertainly drawing her bow. "There's a first time for everything."

Ultimately, they were not able to catch even a single net's worth of fish, resulting in the dwarves' grumbling stomachs throughout the day and their even louder complaints. Fheon ignored them by thinking about what they had done wrong, what she and her brother could do to have a better catch.

The next morning, however, they were met with the same results, albeit one or two more fish. They had been fishing with a bear across them, that time, but they dared not shoot it in fear of its family looking for it. Yet later that same day, Elijah was lucky enough to shoot three fat hares. Fheon took this as a reward for their patience, even though it was a very small reward.

On the sixth day, while she and Elijah were standing by a different river, bows drawn and waiting for fish to come by, she sensed movement coming from their front. It was no predator. Slowly raising her head, she gazed at the beautiful sight of a herd of deer walking towards them. As carefully as she could, she alerted her brother of their presence. They were able to shoot three; the other two escaped. They settled for the three.

They were right on schedule, it seemed, for on the late afternoon of the seventh day, Elijah led them to a mountainside's decline. Fheon welcomed the spectacle with relief because, though she would never admit it, the long trek up, down, and along the sides of the mountain range had been exhausting.

As the day wore on, eventually giving in to the night, she nibbled on a slice of bread. She walked ahead of the company, eyes peeled for any danger that could be above or below them. Yet glancing upwards, she spotted several hundred birds flying off in the opposite direction. Even standing where they were, she could already see the dark storm clouds rapidly making their way towards them. The urgency of the situation only heightened when a particularly strong gust of wind blew past them, propelling her hood off the top of her head. These were indeed dangerous signs, considering the path ahead was narrow and they were walking along a mountain face.

"There's a storm coming," she called over her shoulder.

"Keep going," was Thorin's only reply. A subtle scowl made its way onto Fheon's face, but she did not question him. Forging on, she started calculating how long it would take before the dark clouds were right above their heads.

The punishing cold came first, with the rain not far behind. Beneath the deluge, it seemed Thorin did not care who was leading anymore. Elijah had been in the front when it started, but somehow he and Fheon found themselves in the middle of the bunch, with Thorin at the head. Their hands grasped at the mountainside, desperate to keep from slipping off the path. The Rangers had long unequipped their bows, afraid that they would only drop them and lose them forever. The one time Fheon glanced over her shoulder, she found her brother gripping Bilbo's arm. Shortly after that, she heard a ruckus from behind and the sound of rocks crumbling, and looked to find out that the hobbit had nearly fallen off the cliff face, but had been saved by Elijah.

"We must find shelter," she shouted to Thorin, in order to be heard over the thunder.

"LOOK OUT!" someone bellowed from the back.

Fheon quickly raised her head and found a boulder the size of a house hurtling towards the ridge above them. Upon collision, the boulder broke and sent rocks flying down at the Company. They were forced to halt and press themselves against the rough walls of the mountain.

"This is no thunderstorm," said Balin. "It's a thunder-battle! Look!" He pointed to the crags across them. Fheon looked there to find a vaguely-humanoid shaped figure tearing itself away from the mountain-face to take hold of another sarsen.

"Well, bless me—the legends are true!" another dwarf said; Fheon could not be sure who it was anymore. "Giants! Stone-giants!"

Said stone-giant threw another boulder over their heads, which crashed loudly against something behind them. Shielding her head from the debris, Fheon peeked through the crook of her elbow and saw another stone-giant stepping out of the craggy mountainside behind them. That was what the first stone-giant had been aiming for.

"Take cover, you fools!" Thorin bellowed, stretching his arm out to push the dwarves back. Chunks of rock fell from above, pounding on Fheon's arms like horse hooves. The thin strip of ground in front of them gave way, crumbling.

"Hold on!" yelled Dwalin, just as the rock-base beneath their feet split, right between Fheon and Elijah. Fheon reached out for her brother, panicked because she did not know which of them was in bigger danger. He screamed for her, stretched his arm as far as it would go, but more rocks fell from overhead and came in-between them. She sensed something moving above and her wide eyes were met with the sight of a third stone-giant emerging from the side of the mountain. She was also alarmed to find that its knees were, in fact, the platform she and one-half dwarves were standing on. Across them was its other knee, which was the platform Elijah and Bilbo and the second half of the dwarves were standing on.

Their stone-giant was knocked backwards by a blow from its kin; its knee bent to the side, nearly crushing Thorin between another platform. But the dwarf jumped across the narrow gap and yelled at the others to do the same. Fheon surged forward when the dwarves had made it, but their stone-giant was already recovering from the previous blow, starting to stand back up. She lost her footing the very moment she jumped. For a frightening moment, she was left gliding carelessly through the air. Then Kili grabbed hold of her arm and tugged her onto the platform. She returned her attention to her brother and shouted as loud as she could, "JUMP!"

As far as she was, it was impossible to see any sort of acknowledgement. The dwarves were screaming and barking at each other, to Bilbo. Elijah yelled something incoherent, before grabbing hold of the nearest dwarf—Fili—and then giving him a monstrous throw. Fili sailed through the air, arms flailing. Fheon grabbed his arm, Kili did the same for the other, and they tugged him onto the platform. By then, Elijah's stone-giant had started moving again. Elijah was able to throw another dwarf across the ravine—Ori—for Fheon and Kili to pull onto safety. But then their stone-giant was knocked backwards again, and the knee Bilbo, Elijah, and the rest of the dwarves were standing on was pushed against the mountainside.

When the stone-giant pulled away to fall into the valley far below, there were no signs of their Company on its leg.

"Elijah…" Fheon pushed past the dwarves and ran to their impact point, fearful thoughts of her brother being dead already spilling into mind. Her heart clenched, and a sob tore its way out her throat. "Elijah—" She stopped dead in her tracks when she found her brother, Bilbo, and the rest of the dwarves piled on top of each other on the ground a few feet away. Bruised, but not dead.

Relief flooded through her. Elijah raised his head, eyes squinted, and he actually cracked a smile. "Well," he said, tossing a rock away from his leg, "I am never doing that again."

Fheon rushed towards him and helped him up, wincing slightly as his fingers wrapped around the bruises on her arms. However, he surprised her by pulling her into a hug. In such circumstances, where he had been the one much closer to dying, she should have been the one to do so. But without question, she dragged her hands over her shoulders and returned his gesture.

Their reunifying moment was cut short by two words from Bofur: "Where's Bilbo?" Elijah pulled away immediately as the dwarf repeated himself: "Where's the hobbit?"

Fheon was finally able to discern the grunting of one of their Company, from below them, though it was barely heard past the thunder. "There!" she yelled, pointing to the pair of hands that was peeking out from the cliff face.

"Get him!" Thorin bellowed.

Ori made a reckless leap towards Bilbo's hand, reaching for it as the hobbit's fingers slipped off the surface. He was able to grab hold onto a crevice again, but he was sure to let go soon. Two dwarves were already reaching for him, to no avail, it seemed. Fheon spied the hobbit's fingers slowly peeling away when Thorin jumped from his position beside her and hooked his foot to a cranny on the cliff-face. He grabbed Bilbo's shoulder and shoved him upwards—but, doing so, lost his leverage.

Fheon saw it coming. Her hands shot out to grab his forearm. She would have fallen into the ravine with him if it weren't for Elijah quickly gripping her feet, keeping her from falling forward. She met Thorin's surprised eyes.

"Dwalin," she was able to say through gritted teeth. Her arms felt like they were going to fall off from Thorin's weight. Fortunately, Dwalin was nearby, and he hastily took the burden from her. Grunting, he tugged Thorin higher up, and the dwarves were able to help him back onto solid ground. Elijah continued tugging Fheon by her feet—to her annoyance—until they were beside each other, panting heavily.

"I thought we'd lost our burglar," she heard Dwalin say.

Thorin grunted impatiently in response. "He's been lost ever since he left home," he said, breathless. "He should never have come. He has no place amongst us. Dwalin!" He gestured for the larger dwarf to follow him into a narrow opening within the mountain, leaving the rest of the Company to catch their breath.

Elijah helped Fheon onto her feet, and she, feeling quite displeased with how Thorin had spoken, walked over to Bilbo and helped him up. She patted him on the shoulder, muttering, "For what it's worth, I'm the only woman in this group, so."

The corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile, but other than that, he said nothing. Pursing her lips, Fheon subtly made way for her brother instead—thinking that perhaps he would be able to help raising Bilbo's confidence more—and then slipped into the cave Thorin had found.

"Right, then," Gloin was saying as he dropped the last of the firewood they had been saving. "Let's get a fire started."

The red-bearded dwarf rubbed his hands together, but Thorin said, "No. No fires—not in this place. Get some sleep. We start at first light."

"We were to wait in the mountains until Gandalf joined us," Balin reminded tentatively. "That was the plan."

"Plans change," said Thorin.

Elijah raised his head and said, "Are you sure about this, Thorin?"

"He has taken too long already. Durin's day is nearing. We cannot risk it."

"Gandalf would not like it," murmured Fheon, looking the Dwarf King in the eye.

He returned her blank gaze coldly. "If he is not here by morning, we will leave—with or without him. Bofur," he called over his shoulder, "Take the first watch."

"Actually," Elijah cut in, "I'd like to take first watch. If it's no trouble, that is."

Thorin looked at him for a moment before nodding his head subtly. Then he walked away, to sit by Dwalin and Balin. Fheon stared after him, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from cussing at him, but not being able to keep the contempt from appearing in her eyes. Who was he to decide whether they should leave Gandalf or not? Gandalf, who had towed them past their troubles time and time again with his wisdom and magic. Gandalf, who had made their woes disappear by simply offering a smoke from his pipe. It was absurd that Thorin, the King Under the Mountain, was going to abandon one of his strongest allies in his quest for Erebor. She at least hoped that he had good reason.

Warily, Fheon glanced about at the cave they were in, narrowing her eyes at the conspicuousness of it all, at the floor that was perhaps too even and smooth. There was a light whistling that irritated her ears; she did not know whether it came from inside the cave or outside. Eventually, however, she came to a conclusion and said to her brother, "I will stand watch with you."

"Two hours," he said, to which she nodded.

"Two hours."

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