Chapter Two

In the entrance to the mountain Rori found Thorin and 4 ponies waiting for her. Two ponies were saddled and ready to be ridden and the other two had been kitted out with their belongings. Her bags were quickly secured to a pony and she and Thorin rode out of the mountain, each leading a pack pony.

To her surprise, the path leading down and away from the Lonely Mountain was lined with dwarves, waving and wishing them (well mainly Thorin) well in their quest. Rori hung her head so that her lack of beard would be harder to spot, though she still imagined everyone staring at her.

She was surprised when someone stepped forward from the crowd and placed a hand upon her pony's bridle, halting her progress. She looked up, afraid of what she might see.

"I'm sorry for your father, my darling." Her mother, Rei said. "Good luck and may fortune favour you."

Rori was too shocked to speak and her mother, as discretely as she could, handed her a bag. Rori reached down and kissed her mothers cheek.

"Be safe," Rei told her daughter.

"I will, and..." she didn't know how to finish that. She wanted her mother to stand up to father but now wasn't the time for that conversation. "Be well," she settled for, hoping that her mother would infer her true meaning, for this was not the first time she had voiced such thoughts to her mother.

Rei smiled and stepped away, freeing the pony up to continue.

Rori swung the bag over her head and under one arm then broke into a trot to catch Thorin up. He had paused at the end of the crowds to wait for her and as soon as she had caught up, they began their journey.

"I'm sorry," Rori apologised. "I-"

"You need not worry," he cut her off. "We will be gone for quite a few weeks at best, a few minutes at the beginning will cost us nothing."

"Thank you."

They rode in silence for a while until Rori could keep her thoughts to herself no longer.

"I went to see my father this morning."

"Oh?"

"Yes... Was it you who removed his beard?"

"It was my order, yes."

Rori didn't know how she felt about that, which Thorin guessed from her silence.

"Removing a beard is the worst shame a dwarf can endure; if he will mete out such a punishment for so little an offence, I thought he should know how it feels."

"You logic makes sense," she said. "Though I hate to see him like that because of me."

"It was not because of you," Thorin assured her. "He chose to do that to you, so he has no one but himself to blame for the consequences of that act."

When she didn't reply, Thorin broached a subject he had been meaning to discuss for some time now but had been avoiding.

"You are also entitled to financial compensation for the needless shame that you have endured."

"No," Rori answered immediately. "I don't... no."

"Are you worried that will leave your mother in financial hardship?"

"I suppose it would but the truth is, I want nothing from my father. When I left his house it was the happiest day of my life and I have been proud of my independence ever since. To take his money would cancel that out."

She was independent and Thorin couldn't fault her desire to make her own way in life. Still, something was troubling him about the punishment.

"Did your father shave your beard?" he asked.

"No, I did that."

"Why?"

Rori looked over at him then looked away.

"I can protect myself but I cannot protect her unless she leaves him. He told me what he would do if I did not remove my beard and I believed him."

"He threatened your mother?"

Rori didn't answer, which was all the answer he needed. When he got back, Cori was going to be seriously taken to task. Or perhaps there was a scouting mission that he could be sent on, something that could take years to complete? There would be time enough to work out the details when he returned, but never again would he let Rori be held to ransom for fear of her mother being harmed.

They continued to ride in silence for another few hours until the sun began to set.

"We should make camp soon," Thorin said, "while we can still see clearly."

Rori nodded her head and they found a small clearing not far from a stream. As the night was fine they opted not to erect their tents so that they could make an early start tomorrow. Thorin offered to light a fire while Rori collected her razor, a mirror and her hobbit clothes.

"Are you sure?" Thorin asked as she passed him on her way out of the camp, though he didn't turn to look at her.

"I am sure," she said. "I gave you my word, after all."

Thorin nodded and she continued on her way. Truth be told, dressing as a hobbit had been his idea. To his great surprise, he found that he very much liked her face and had been dreading her beard growing back, since it would hide half of her beauty from his view, so although he felt bad for her having to continue shaving, he found that he didn't want to try too hard to stop her.

He set about unsaddling the horses, getting their feed and water out, then building a fire. By the time Rori returned he was sitting beside it, foraging in one of the bags for food. He looked up as he heard her approach and couldn't help the smile that appeared on his lips.

She looked very odd indeed in hobbit clothes. She was short for a dwarf but tall for a hobbit and her trousers were an inch or two too short. As she drew nearer, he noticed that her lower face was smeared with blood and his smile faded. He reached out to touch one of her cuts as she sat down but she reared away.

"Cut myself," she said. "Still, the last time I did it, it looked like a massacre had occured, so at least I'm getting better."

Thorin patted his pockets, wondering how much he would give for one of Bilbo's pocket handkerchief's right now. He got up and foraged in some of the bags until he found something that could be used as a rag (actually it was the sleeve of one of his shirts) then he returned to the fire with a water flask, wet the rag and turned to her.

"They must be cleaned," he said, his tone broking no argument. "If infection should set in you will be no use to me."

Rori nodded but closed her eyes as he began to clean her chin. It felt strange to feel something touch her there, for dwarves are born bearded. She had washed her own face since shaving, obviously, but to feel the touch of another was humiliating; a reminder of how shameful she looked.

With her eyes closed, Thorin took the chance to really look at her as he cleaned her face. She had high cheekbones, a square jaw and a tiny but adorable dimple on her chin. Once he had washed away all the blood, he found that he couldn't resist knowing what she felt like and lightly ran the back of his index finger across her cheek. Her skin was so soft, so smooth, rather like a baby dwarf's skin that is unravaged by weather and time.

"I'm sorry," he said, remembering himself as she opened her eyes in surprise. He couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to kiss her naked lips, for it would surely be unlike any other kiss he had ever known.

Rori didn't know what had just happened.

"No, you are... curious. I suppose that is to be expected, and certainly much better than other reactions I've had."

"Still, it was wrong of me. I beg your pardon."

"In which case, you have it."

Thorin put the rag away and began looking through the bag of food again.

"What was in the bag your mother gave you?" he asked, remembering it from earlier and desperate to find an easier topic of conversation.

"I haven't looked yet. Probably just food for our journey."

She got up and collected the bag from where it rested with the others, then she sat back down by the fire and opened the flap.

"Oh my word!" she said softly, pulling a book from the bag. "She saved some of them."

"What are they?" Thorin asked.

Thrilled that she still had some books, she handed the one she was holding to Thorin as she dug the next one out, quite forgetting that he probably wasn't interested in books.

"That is a history of the second age. It's not big enough to go into great detail but it covers all the major events. And this," she brandished the next book, "is a biography of a man called Thomas Boatman from Laketown who was an explorer about two hundred years ago. I always find it fascinating how dwarves and other races have so little in common in so many ways but also sometimes, so very much in common in other ways."

Thorin took the book as she she handed it to him.

"This is a collection of legends," she said, handing him a third book. "Some are just stories or morality tales but some are based on truth. And this was my favourite," she said, smiling as she brought the last book out. "An illustrated guide to the creatures of Middle Earth. It has the races, like dwarves, hobbits, men etcetera, but it also has a lot of animal life."

Thorin opened the book as she handed it to him and began to browse through the drawings.

Remembering who she was talking to and that he probably wasn't interested in books very much, she almost snatched the book back.

"I must be boring you," she said, hastily stuffing the books back into the bag. Then she realised how rude her actions must have been, snatching anything was never polite, but she didn't know how to apologise so she settled for biting her lip instead.

"You are very fond of books," he observed.

"I thought we had established that," she said, realising too late that once again she had sounded rude. "I mean, yes, I am."

Thorin smiled as he saw her cheeks turn red.

"Tell me, what is the appeal that they have for you?"

"I don't know really," she said. She had never been asked such a question before. "I suppose I enjoy learning about people and places that I might never experience myself."

"You could experience them," he said reasonably.

"Some places, yes, but there are too many places and cultures to learn about in one lifetime. Besides, how else am I to experience events like the Battle of Beleriand without having been there?"

Thorin conceded her point with a nod.

"So tell me a story from one of your books," he said.

"I'm sure there is nothing in these books which you don't already know," she said, though she was certain that in reality, he probably knew far less than her, even if he had experienced more. He would probably know the basics of important events in history, but probably not much of the history of the Northmen for example, who's descendants now inhabited the town of Dale.

"Just pick anything," he said. "Some history or a description of the animals in far off lands, or even one of those legends you spoke about."

Rori really didn't want to for fear of ridicule but she did as he asked. She chose her favourite legend (which wasn't in the book she'd been given by her mother but she knew it by heart) and began to tell him the story of a man who had cried warg once too often and so was not listened to when real danger approached.

As she relaxed she began to get into her role of story teller and started doing different voices for the characters and embellishing the tale with descriptions of the land and it's inhabitants. She continued with a second tale as they ate and when she was finished they decided to get some sleep.

"Thank you, that was most entertaining," Thorin told her. "I feel this journey will fly by with your stories to keep us company."

Rori blushed under the praise because she wasn't used to; she generally received ridicule from her father had so she had long ago stopped trying to tell stories to anyone. Tonight though, she went to sleep with a smile on her lips.

III

The next day Rori shaved as soon as she awoke since she already had stubble growing, which would surely give away her non-hobbit status. While at the stream she refilled their water flasks, then headed back to the camp. She had also changed back into her dwarf trousers since the hobbit ones were too short. She would see if she could let the hem down this evening when they camped but for now, drawf trousers would suffice. Thorin nodded as she approached and she could see that he had already put the fire out and saddled the ponies while she was gone. The sun was still barely rising as they got under way again so they should be able to cover a fair amount of ground today.

Thorin asked for another story as they rode, so Rori told him the story if the elves creation.

They didn't stop for lunch but ate on horse back as they travelled. They set up camp again as the sun began to set and after she had shaved a second time that day, Thorin asked Rori for more stories. They repeated this pattern over the next few days. Her tales kept him entertained throughout the journey and he found himself glad that he had decided against bringing anyone else with them.

He noticed the change in her as her confidence began to grow and he found it very appealing.

Finally they reached the edge of Mirkwook forest. This time they didn't have to go through the wood but around it. Now that the dwarves were at peace with the elves of the forest, he could surely receive permission to travel through, but there were a lot of other creatures that dwelt in the forest and Thorin didn't particularly relish encountering them again.

Skirting the forest would not take them far off their path and almost before they knew it, they were at the Misty Mountains.

Thanks to most of the goblins being killed at the battle of five armies, the mountains were much safer to travel now, though care still needed to be taken, since some goblins and many other creatures still lived there.

They were taking a different path to the one Thorin had taken from the Shire and there was less opportunity to talk, since they mostly had to ride single file with a pack horse between them. Overnight they still talked as they sat but there was little in the way of wood in the mountains, so they often couldn't have a fire.

Their fresh food was gone now and they were beginning to tire of eating biscuits and other preserved foods but Rori switched to telling uplifting stories, stories of good triumphing over evil and of battles, both historical and recent, to keep their spirits up.

It was on the third night in the mountains when the mischief started and it began with one of Rori's books going missing overnight.

She didn't accuse Thorin of taking it, not only because he was her king but also because... well what use would he have for a book? He was very much a traditional dwarf, preferring action to stillness. Still, he was the only other person around and she suspected him. The atmosphere between them was tense for the rest of the day.

The next night the bridle for Thorin's pony went missing while they slept. Thorin began to bluster and shout while Rori tried in vain to work the tangles out of her hair, which had seemingly appeared from nowhere over night.

When he had calmed down, he realised that Rori had no reason to take the bridle and that something else was going on. Still, he acted as though he did blame her and they rode in silence all day (thankfully Thorin's pony was very well trained and able to be ridden in just a head collar.

When they camped that night, they ate in silence and Rori once again took out her comb and attempted to untangle her hair. Thorin noticed, for usually she was very well groomed and he couldn't figure out what had made her golden mane so tangled.

That evening he did his best to remain awake, though his eyes were closed. He listened closely for any unusual sounds and tried to stay as still as possible. After midnight he heard something that sounded like insect chatter, high pitched and fast. He risked opening one eye a crack and saw a small winged creature hovering over the supplies that rested beside him. The ponies were gently whinnying, unsure if they were in danger or not.

The creature was searching through their belongings and smiled as it pulled out a water flask. Thorin realised that without those flasks, he and Rori would be doomed, since water sources were not regular in the mountains. In fact they hadn't come across any water at all during their the first two days in the mountain.

Quick as a flash he reached out and grabbed the creature, which wriggled and struggled in his grasp.

"Rori!" he called, waking her.

"What?" she sat up, looking around for danger. When she found none her gaze returned to Thorin and she was surprised to see him holding what looked like a tiny person with wings.

The creature continued to struggle for a few moments then finally seemed to give up. A second later though, it used all the strength it had to lunge at Thorin, it's previously manish features taking on a positively demonic air, as it's jaws snapped at it's captor. Thorin had been able to keep it away from him but he had been so spooked by the change that he had almost released it.

"What is it?" he asked Rori.

Rori came closer to look. The creature was still snapping it's viciously pointed teeth at Thorin but making no progress.

"It looks like a faerie," she said.

"There's no such thing as faeries," Thorin told her.

"Maybe not but there are enough references to them in books to make me believe that they might exist." She looked around the camp then went to one of their bags. "One way to tell," she said, brandishing an iron hoof pick.

As she brought the object closer to the creature, it leaned as far away from her as it could manage in Thorin's tight grip.

"Faerie's hate iron," Rori explained. She lowered the hoof pick a little. "I know you can speak our language," she told the faerie. "So talk or I'll use this to eviscerate you!"

The faerie looked hateful and crossed it's arms while looking away from her.

"Did you steal our things?" she asked it. It didn't reply. "Tell me or I'll kill you," she threatened, bringing the hoof pick to within inches of it's face.

Its stubbornness failed it then and it looked truly terrified.

"Ok, fine!" it yelled when the pick was almost touching it. Rori moved the pick away but only a fraction this time.

"Where is our stuff?" she asked it.

The faerie didn't answer so Rori lightly pressed the tip of the iron hoof pick onto it's cheek, causing it to sizzle and burn.

"Where?" she asked as she removed the pick once more.

"You might as well kill me," the faerie said sadly. "I am already as good as dead when my kin discover that I have been caught."

"Okay." Rori drew the pick high above her head as though to swing it back down. Thorin looked surprised by her action but held fast to the creature. The fairly didn't give her a chance to bring the pick back down.

"Fine, all right, they're in a camp about four miles south."

"Four miles?" Rori echoed.

"That's nothing when you can fly," it taunted them.

"Maybe not, but this ends now," Thorin said, shaking the faerie.

"I'll bring your items back," the faerie assured them. "Just please don't kill me!"

"Why did you take it?" Thoirn asked.

"Because I wanted to."

"They're mischief makers," Rori explained. "They enjoy stealing things and watching what happens. Was it you who tied my hair into fairy knots as well?" she asked, still unable to get rid of all the tangles.

The fairy nodded. "I didn't mean any harm." It's voice was small now, trying to play on their sympathies, but both Rori and Thorin could vividly remember it's demonic features from a few moments ago.

Rori became thoughtful for a moment and Thorin wanted to know what she was thinking.

"What's your name?" Rori finally asked the faerie, who shook it's head and looked away. "What's your name?" she repeated.

"I won't say," the fairy said. "So you may as well stop asking!"

"I know you have to tell the truth if I ask three times." Rori smiled then once again asked, "What's your name?"

The fairy looked very odd then as it tried to stop itself from uttering its name. It squeezed it's lips together, clamped its hands over its month but finally the name burst forth.

"Morgana!"

"Morgana," Rori smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Morgana."

The little faerie looked frightened.

"You know that if I say your name a third time, you will become my servant, don't you?" Rori asked. "You'll be in my service for the rest of my life."

The fairy nodded sadly, she was correct.

"I won't say your name a third time if you promise to return our things to us, and not to bother us again for the rest of our journey, understood?"

The faerie looked up, hope shining in it's eyes.

"Do you mean that? You would let me remain free?"

"I would, I give you my word that if you keep your end of the bargain, you will remain a free faerie."

"Then you have my word also," the Faerie said.

"Release her," Rori said to Thorin.

"Can we trust her?" Thorin asked.

"If she does not return by sunrise with our items, I will say her name a third time and she will be forced to do our bidding; so yes, we can trust her."

Thorin released the faerie who hovered above them for a moment, looking from Rori to Thorin before flying off to the south.

"How did you know that?" Thorin asked. "About her name?"

"There is a lot of contradicting stories surrounding fairies but I have read that in more than one place, so I thought it was worth trying."

"I thought they were a myth, stories told by children too young to know any better."

"I did too, until we just met one. I suppose their secrecy is understandable, if dwarves were as easy to control and enslave, wouldn't you try and keep your existence and the methods of control secret?"

"I suppose," he agreed. "Will they leave us alone now?"

"I hope so. I don't think she'll cross us because if she does, I can enslave her to me."

"You still could," he said. "It might be helpful to have a faerie in your service."

"I gave her my word," Rori looked shocked by the suggestion. "Besides, I have read enough folklore to know that it is never a good idea. They may be forced to do as we tell them but they will use all their will to find ways to sabotage us."

"How so?"

"Well, if you told them to pass on an urgent message for example, it's a simple enough order but if you didn't tell them exactly when it had to be relayed, they would delay the journey, taking as long as possible so that by the time they arrive to give the message, there is no point in it any longer. If it was a warning you were sending, then the other party might even be dead by the time the faerie arrived. If you ordered them to make haste with the message, indeed they would be forced to but could choose to take a longer route, thereby still making themselves late. There are a thousand and one ways and loopholes that they can find to mess things up, with out directly contradicting an order."

Thorin grunted his agreement and sighed.

"We must wait for the fairies return in case it has any more tricks planned, so we will get little sleep tonight," he said. "We can sleep for a few hours once the faerie arrives back but it will not be enough."

Sadly, Rori agreed with him. She did so hate being tired but they could hardly lie around camp, sleeping during the daylight. No, it was better to move on during the day and try to catch up on their sleep the next night,

To pass the time she took her comb out and began trying to pick through her tangled mane once more.

"Let me," Thorin said, holding his hand out for the comb.

"Oh no, my Lord, I couldn't possibly-"

"I said give it here!" He was already feeling his patience wearing thin thanks to lack of sleep, but he hadn't intended to snap at her.

Chastened, Rori handed him the comb and sat with her back to him.

Slowly and gently, Thorin began to tease the comb through her tangles, easing them out. When he was a child his mother would spend hours grooming him and he had always enjoyed it, even if it did mean sitting still for a time. Eager to be grown up, he would then insist that he do the same to her and he had loved brushing her silken locks.

Of course, their came an age when it was no longer the done thing for a boy to sit patiently while his mother groomed him, but when he was under the weather he still allowed it, and he would do the same for his sister as she grew up, reasoning that as the older child, it was his job to make sure his sister was well groomed.

It had been many decades since he had brushed someone's hair now, and even longer since anyone had brushed his. He found the simple action soothing and by the time he had finally worked the last of Rori's tangles out, he was feeling much more relaxed.

He held the comb out for Rori who took it and turned to him.

"Thank you," she said in a small voice.

No one but her mother had ever brushed her hair before. Such an act was a sign of affection and usually only occurred between relatives or husbands and wives. She wasn't foolish enough to think that Thorin had feelings like that for her, he had probably just seen her distress and offered to help. Besides, being unkempt (when not in the throws of battle) was a sign of dishonour and he had probably had enough of looking at her nest-like hair.

"Would you like me to groom your beard?" she asked, since returning the favour was only polite.

Thorin seemed to hesitate over his answer but finally he nodded so she began teasing the comb through the ends of his beard, working her way up.

With her eyes focused on her task, Thorin took the opportunity to watch her. He smiled as she bit down on her lip while she focused on working a small tangle out.

She was such an odd creature, so unlike almost any other dwarf he had met. Small and bookish but with a sharp mind and an intelligence that was rare among his kind. There was a time when he would have viewed such qualities with disdain but after spending many months with Gandalf, he had been forced to admit that there was merit in such things.

She had such knowledge of things he could only dream of and her stories seemed endless. Indeed the worst part of travelling through these mountains was the need to go single file for so much of the time, so that she couldn't keep him entertained.

Her gentle brush strokes were soothing him, making him feel drowsy and content. As she reached his chin, she looked up at him for the first time, smiling coyly as she noticed his scrutiny.

She quickly looked away again, blushing. He stilled the hand which held the comb with his left hand and put his right index finger under her chin, gently tilting her head up.

"Look at me," he said, but it was a plea not an order.

Slowly Rori raised her gaze to meet his and swallowed at her close proximity to him. Thorin edged closer to her and she closed her eyes in expectation. He was close enough to feel her breath on his lips when something thumped to the ground beside him; causing them both to turn and look.

Morgana looked sorry to have interrupted them.

"I didn't mean the book to fall," she said, sounding almost fearful. Lying beside the book was the bridle that she had also stolen. "I'm sorry."

Her contrition melted any annoyance that Rori might have felt.

"I won't tie you to me for dropping a book," she assured the fairy. "Thank you for returning our things; you are free to go."

Morgana hovered there for a moment, unable to believe that these people would not break their word. Men, elves, dwarves, hobbits, they all broke their word, after all who wouldn't want a magical servant?

"I mean it, go with our blessing," Rori smiled. "But try not to irritate too many travellers, hey?"

Morgana bowed low, then quick as a flash she flew away.

Rori felt uncomfortable and refused to turn back to Thorin. What she had felt must have just been a dream or fantasy. The act of sharing such an intimate grooming process must have addled his (and her) brain for a moment, but the moment was gone now and it would not be coming back any time soon.

Thorin was quick enough to realise that he couldn't recapture that feeling and so he turned away also.

"There are still a few hours of night left," he said, somewhat gruffly. "We should make the most of them."

"Of course," Rori agreed. She kept her back to him as she went over to her bedding and curled up under her cover. She had thought that she would never sleep after what had almost happened but it was nearly dawn and she was exhausted; as such she soon fell into a deep slumber.