My apologies, I have been taking a wonderful break to spend time with one of my cousins (so much fun!) It's fairly early and she's still sleeping, so I think I'll get this up before she wakes up and preforms one of her famous morning songs (she's actually got a good voice, so it's fun). In any case I have edited chapter one and will probably do the same for chapter two and possibly three. Hopefully it will make the story more interesting and I added a little rant of sorts down below about mixed breeding (though it's more of an informative excerpt than a rant). Again, thank you for all the wonderful support, I welcome constructive criticism, no flames (let's be nice, here), and as far as the story goes let me know if you like it. I really do enjoy receiving reviews as most authors and I carefully read through each to see what it is you like. Also, I'd like your opinion. Here is the big question:

Are the chapters too short?

I'm thinking about just taking a few days to write big, long chapters instead of daily. That way I can do more research and get more ideas out. In any case, enjoy and a special shout out to the real Kumama-oh! And a quick note here. Kumama made some lovely doodles for Life String! They're fantastic and I hope you go and check those out.

Lovest Always, Lady Merridell

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own The Hobbit or Kumama. Just a few ideas related to her (like Smithy and one little leaf :/)

Chapter 4

The Valor, seeing the young dwarf's struggles, had compassion on her and held a council.

Having trekked to the edge of Bree the dwarves decided against staying at the Prancing Pony.

"We'll have to keep going," Thorin declared. There were several groans, which were silenced by a pair of piercing stormy eyes. The members clambered onto their ponies, some grudgingly but all would faithfully follow their leader to the ends of Middle Earth and back.

"We don't have to stay at an inn, but maybe we could rest elsewhere? At least we'll have a roof over our heads," Kumama suggested. All eyes turned to her and she suddenly became quite interested in the saddle horn.

"Where?" Thorin asked.

"Sounds good, long as there's food and ale," called Bofur.

"And somewhere dry," added Dori.

"What?! What did she say?" called Oin, turning his ear trumpet so that water dumped onto the ground, causing his pony to shift nervously.

"Oh-um." She squirmed a bit under all the attention. "It's-ah, its a ways from here. Thorin, do you remember Smithy?"

"Who's Smithy?" Bilbo asked.

"Thorin Oakenshield," exclaimed a rather surprised dwarf.

"Oadinn Smitheen," Thorin greeted with a nod.

Bilbo, however, didn't think he could muster the courage to utter any form of greeting. There stood a dwarf almost as tall as Thorin, though not quite. He had tough, well-weathered skin and his cheeks flushed red from the intense heat emanating from the smithing forge behind him. Sweat mingling with the dirt smudging his face and trailing into his beard, which was tied with braids trailing down the sides of his head. The rest of his hair was a wild mass of an untamed chestnut wilderness with the occasional few braids there that had been tied off with beads.

Usually he had his hair tied back so he could work in the forge, but now it framed his worn features. His eyes were rather small and watery blue while his nose was slightly crooked as though broken in some sort of accident.

Though his was, in truth, a rather imposing and intimidating creature with that iron tooth of his and several battle wounds healed to scars were scattered along his arms and face, there was a sort of timid kindness about him as though he wouldn't dare harm even a fly.

"Kumama, have you changed your mind already?" he attempted a little joke to ease the slight tension. Not that any of the dwarves disliked their old smithing companion. It was just that-

"Oh-oh, no," Kumama finally said, smiling. "I just thought that maybe it would... could we possibly stay here for a night?"

Smithy smiled. "Of course. But ye'll need to excuse me. I don't-ye know-have any extra beds. Thorin can use mine and perhaps any of the elder dwarves-ah, Balin?-could borrow Kumama's? I've plenty of blankets and there's still plenty to eat from last winter's storage," he offered.

The company, of course, didn't mind this in the least. Food and shelter was all that they really wanted. They entered the smith's cottage, which was located a safe distance from Bree and was found in a large field of tall grasses with a few trees dotting the horizon. Next to it was an outdoor forge where various tongs and scrap metal lined the sides and hung on the wall.

Smithy continually apologized, for the size of the cottage was quite suitable for such a large party. Once upon a spring he built it for himself and little Kumama with two rooms for each of them, a chamber pot, a sitting room with a stone fireplace, and a kitchen.

He bustled about in the kitchen with Kumama, who would occasionally bump something that would be caught easily by the smith as though he were quite accustomed to her habits. Soon there was a generous spread of honey, biscuits, corn, mutton, salted pork, apples, baked potato, and fresh water.

The group feasted, laughed, joked, and even sang a bit. Bofur played his pipe in a lively rendition of "That's What Bilbo Baggins Hates".

Kumama braved a conversation with Dori, who was a bit hesitant, but they managed to exchange a civil conversation about herbs. Dori had shown an interest in the art of healing and hoped to learn a trick or two from Oin. Other than that, she mostly chatted with Bilbo and Ori.

"Thank you," Ori said politely as she passed the corn.

"You are very welcome," she told him, smiling. &&&

Thorin even pulled out his harp for a few ballads about dwarven heroes, both male and female, which surprised Bilbo immensely. He soon learned that dwarrow held very different views on females. Dwarves sent them into battle, most likely not knowing there was a female in their midst or, if they knew, did not care because they were just as stubborn and hardy as the males.

By the end of the festivities everyone had calmed down and Bilbo had fallen fast asleep.

Smithy passed out woolen blankets and even a few patchwork quilts that looked as though they had been made rather clumsily, but were cherished nonetheless. The hobbit was carried into the room near the fireplace and most used chose to use their packs as pillows. Only one other member was missing besides Thorin and was, instead, speaking in somber tones with Smithy in the kitchen. It was Gandalf.

As Kumama lay there, doing her utmost best to ignore the whispering from the kitchen she focused on the comforting snores of the rest of the company. Not that it was soothing in the least, but at least she did not have to eavesdrop.

Most would find this useful, but in the hands of a child it could be quite scary. In her youth, Kumama often heard everything anyone said within a hundred or so yards from her. She heard things she did want to hear and things she didn't, the majority of it being things that upset her. The elder dwarves might watch her run by and mumble about her clumsiness or, one time after shattering a vase, overheard an argument between Thorin and Smithy.

"She just needs time to get used to herself,"Smithy whispered insistently. "Many children are a bit off balance at first."

"I am sorry, Smithy, but she can not stay. She'll be safer among the elves," Thorin rumbled.

Smithy scoffed. "Since when have you put your faith in the dwarves?"

"I don't," the king answered flatly. "Kumama is a danger to us all. Better the elves than us."

"It was only a vase," Smithy continued.

"And a row of axes and another vase and even a lantern. She almost burned down the medical hall," Thorin continued.

"Kumama just doesn't know her own strength yet," the smith said.

"Then she'd best figure it out," the king replied. Oadinn did not hesitate. It was not wise to stand up to one so powerful and full of authority amongst his own race, but he only straightened up.

"Thorin, please, I ask of you to give her a chance," he asked.

"I have given her plenty of chances."

"Try to see through her eyes!"

"I would if she could see," Thorin retorted, then he sighed. "Oadinn, its not that I don't care for Kumama. I am worried for her. She is too dangerous. For us and herself."

"She is a child!"

"For Mahal's sake, we don't even know what she is," Thorin growled.

"She is a child, regardless of whether she is Elven or not," Smithy replied.

"An elleth has no place among dwarves, neither do hobbits if that's what she is," Thorin said.

Kumama turned over under her blankets, feeling tears well up at the memory. That night she had run away, as anyone would expect a small child to do. It was Balin who found her hiding in the craw of a snowy pine, damp and shivering. Not long afterwards they left for Bree. It was as good as exile, for Thorin had suggested that, for the safety of the dwarves of Durin, it was best that she left.

It shouldn't have bothered her for so long. After all, it had been so long ago, but it still stung like a fresh cut. She had often asked Smithy whether or not he would love her less if she were an elleth or a hobbit. Each time he smiled, knelt down and pulled her into a tight bear hug repeating each time that he loved her no matter what she was. Perhaps, someday, she would learn who she was, what she was exactly, and maybe, just maybe, someone could love her no matter what she was.

The next day the company woke up about the crack of dawn and ate a generous helping of bread and butter, fried tomatoes, bacon, and eggs.

Kumama found herself wandering around her home, just to say goodbye to it one more time before she embarked on her very first quest. Or, if she counted the journey to Bree, her second quest.

"Think of it as a quest, Kumama," Smithy suggested, smiling down at the little wide-eyed Elven creature.

"We're going on a quest!" she exclaimed gleefully. Smithy chuckled and ruffled her hair affectionately before tapping their old mule, Dusk, with the riding crop.

Kumama smiled absentmindedly when a familiar set of footfall stopped at her door. Turning slightly she glanced at the blurred form of Smithy, his recognizably ruffled tresses tied back and beard slightly burnt at the tips as though he had recently been in the forge. His hands were clasped behind his back and he seemed to be going through some sort of internal struggle.

"Yes? Are you okay?" she asked, beaming at him. Suddenly a few tears sprung to his eyes and he stared quickly at the floor. Kumama frowned, concerned. "Smithy?"

"Please don't go," he whispered. Kumama's eyes widened and she stepped back.

"What?"

"Do ye have to go?" he asked. She hesitated, not quite certain of what to say, so instead she hugged him tightly as he had always done for her.

"Gandalf promised me an adventure and the chance to discover who I really am deep down. I can't do that in Bree," she told him apologetically.

"Yes ye could," Smithy sniffed, then he wiped his eyes and shook his head suddenly, as though changing his mind. "No, I don't suppose ye could, could ye?"

Kumama, unable to think of anything else to say simply shook her head.

"At least take this. I can't be sure how much good it'll do ye, but maybe it could help 'discover who ye are' and whatnot," the dwarf explained, pressing into the palm of her hand an piece of silver crafted in the fashion of what could be a leaf, looped through with string. Squinting, she managed to make out several odd markings like some form of writing. One word stood out large on the pendant while the rest were much smaller and had been etched underneath the word.

"What does it say?" she asked.

"I don't know. Some sort of ancient language. Elvish, maybe, but there's only one word on here that makes sense-the big one. Kumama," he explained. "We assumed it was your name, y'see. It was holding together the blankets you were wrapped up in. Thought ye were an elf till we saw the feet. 'Course, ye proved to be right hardy like a dwarf, but ye looked nothin like one. More like a hobbit or-"

His speech was cut off suddenly as Kumama hugged him. "Thank you so much!" she cried. Smithy smiled and held her tightly. She stepped back quickly. "Why don't you come? I'm sure Thorin wouldn't mind!"

"Someone has to mind the forge," he told her, chuckling.

"Oh-right," sighed Kumama.

"Now then, hurry along," Smithy said affectionately. Soon enough he was waving from the door. "I want ye there and back again by supper, ye hear?!"

"Oh-okay," she called, laughing at the little joke they shared. Nothing many would understand. In fact, they didn't quite understand it themselves. Just something they often said. "There and back again! I promise! Bye, Smithy."

He waved from the entrance of the solitary stone cottage. Kumama twisted around to wave one last time then sighed contentedly, enjoying the slight breeze.

"Why do you call him 'Smithy'?"

Kumama practically fell out of her saddle and clung to Bayard's mane, then pulled herself up.

"Goodness gracious, I do apologize," exclaimed Bilbo.

"Oh no-it's okay, don't feel bad," Kumama stammered, having righted herself. "I was a bit distracted. What did you say?"

"I was simply inquiring," Bilbo repeated, "as to why you call your father Smithy."

"Oh, um, he's not my father," Kumama explained, somewhat confused.

"Oh." Bilbo suddenly turned bright red. Bilbo, you dundering fool, he chided.

"It's okay. I call him 'Smithy' because when I was introduced to him I couldn't get his last name right. I suppose I spent too much time getting his name right so all I remembered about his name was Smithy," she explained.

"Ah, I see," he nodded. "I hope I did not offend you."

"Not at all," Kumama replied, though it did remind her that she did not know anything of her past. Who her father was wasn't exactly a question she often asked herself since she did not grow up around too many children who had fathers. In fact, she did not often meet other children since children among dwarves weren't quite common. It was only her and two other dwarf children whose names she failed to recall.

It was still rather damp, but at least it was all drying out a bit. The sky was now bright azure as though relieved to have released its burden. Large fluffy clouds hung suspended amid the blue sea and various fowl flitted about, twittering loud as they pleased.

All in all, it was rather pleasant. Bree would soon be far behind.

That night, Kumama lay on her side. Most of the company had fallen asleep, leaving only her and Bifur. She fingered the little silver leaf, turning it over it her hands several times, feeling the engraved words as though attempting to identify the language. No such luck there.

She sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened her eyes Kumama found herself face to face with what she found quite disturbing and extremely unbecoming.

It opened one of it's large, protruding eyes and looked around it's cave quickly. Large boils covered its chubby features and several stringy, greasy hairs still clung to its head. The creature resembled an overgrown hobgoblin. In fact, that had to be what it was. An orc, she thought, disgusted.

The orc was laid on a large rock slab and was surrounded by bits of mithril and moth-eaten silks that were most likely forged from the skeletons lining the room. He suddenly sat up and looked around the room, both eyes now wide open.

"Who's there?" he roared. Kumama back up against the wall and held her breath as though it would somehow make herself invisible.

"I'm here, My Liege," croaked a much smaller orc from the entry.

"No, not you. It smells like…" he sniffed again, "many different creatures. Elves-"

"Ooo, that's right tasty," declared the orc, eyes wide and hungry.

"-and the slightest trace of…dwarf?"

"Not so tasty," sighed the small orc, as though disappointed.

The orc hummed then stood up. "It's right over…" he sniffed around then froze. "Hold on, it's fading! It must be running away! Quickly, find it! Find-"

Kumama, not wanting to see anymore, suddenly opened her eyes and sat up quickly, panting. That cold not have been a dream, could it?!

There was a soft grunt from behind her. Kumama twisted around to look at the dark haired warrior. He attempted speech, but there was only one word she could understand: achu´shum. He was worried for her.

"I'm alright Bifur," she smiled. "

Bifur grunted something that sounded like "ashafukh" though she couldn't be sure. That night she dreamed of damp caves and getting lost in their winding labyrinths and there were no orcs to be found.

"We'll camp here for the night," Thorin announced. "Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them."

Kumama lowered herself and wandered around the ruins of a cottage.

"A farmer and his family used to live here," murmured Gnadalf mournfully.

"Oin, Gloin."

"Aye?"

"Get a fire going," Thorin ordered.

Gloin nodded, "Right you are."

"I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley," Gandalf said, turning to look down at the dwarf king.

"I have told you already, I will not go near that place," Thorin rasped, looking up at Gandalf with the same amount of authority.

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

"I do not need their advice," Thorin insisted, not looking too pleased at receiving "advice" from an elf.

"We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us," the wizard argued.

"Help? A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing." The dark haired king took a step closer, fire in his eyes. "You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather and betrayed my father."

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

"I did not know that they were yours to keep," the dwarf replied. Huffing, Gandalf turned and stormed away, unable to contain his rage.

"Everything alright? Gandalf, where are you going?" Bilbo cried, watching the wizard.

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

"Who's that?"

"Myself, Mr. Baggins! I've had enough of dwarves for one day. Come along, Kumama."

Kumama jumped. "What? Come?"

"You are my apprentice, aren't you?"

She had all but forgotten. "Oh- yes, I am," she exclaimed suddenly.

"The come along and do what any sensible apprentice is supposed to do," he growled, then turned and continued on.

"And what is that?" she panted, finally catching up.

"Listen when you're mentor talks. I am about to teach you your first lesson. Dealing with the stubbornness of dwarves," he grumbled.

Khudzul Translations:

Ashafukh- to doubt

Achushum-to worry

My apologies for the random little apostrophe above for the word achushum. Apparently accents don't like my mac :/

In any case I hope you have enjoyed the story thus far. As for those of you who have guessed as to why Kumama can "See" things from so far there have been some very good guesses (like, one or two). I suppose we shall see. Still more of the story to come! So much to tell, so much to the story, so much time to wait, and so little patience. I can't wait!