Thorin found himself waking to the silence of daybreak as the rain finally let up in the middle of the stretched from the chair he was dozing in and glanced down at his guest. Late last night they had finally settled around the fire, and he had easily seen that the young woman before him was physically and emotionally drained. Despite her protest, which had been feeble at best, he had dragged his bedroll closer to the fire and insisted that she get some rest in said bed. With some half-hearted attempts to insist that she could not take his bedroll, she had made herself comfortable and fallen into a fitful sleep.

Thorin himself had found his pipe and had smoked well into the night before he finally had nodded off while staring deep into the fire. During this time his mind had wandered between various topics most of those were about the young women who was now sharing his shelter and others roamed towards his impending trip home at the Blue Mountains.

He had decided that he would see Hermione to the small inn that was here in town. The owner, a stout woman by the name of Ilirra, ran the inn and she would be far better equipped to deal with a lost traveler. Hopefully, Ilirra would be able to give some sound advice to Hermione about traveling on her own and help her determine whether she would stay in town or travel on to a larger town.

He, himself would be finishing up the last of the small odd jobs that he had lined up and then thank the townspeople for allowing him to make use of their workshop and continue to travel to the next nearest town to the west. He would of course see if they had any work for a blacksmith, but he knew as he got closer to home, the fewer jobs there would be for him as many of his kinsmen frequented the villages that were closer to the mountains.

Nodding to himself, satisfied with his decision, he stood up from the chair and stretched, releasing the tension that had been growing in his shoulders and spine from sleeping upright. Careful not to wake the woman sleeping near his feet, he softly trend towards the small table that sat at the front of the workshop under the one window that led into the building. On it was a small list of jobs that he had accepted recently that still needed completing. It was appallingly short, repairs to a door latch at the pub (presumably some of the patrons had been a little rough on it), a new plow for a local farmer, and some new horseshoes for a local resident. Thorin sighed to himself. It was well and truly deplorable.

He set the list down and moved to his doorway, surveying the damages that the rain had brought. It was bad but not as bad as he originally thought. In the dim morning light he could see that all of the buildings had weathered the storm with little to no apparent damage. The streets were still a mess though due to soft soil and mud, but the road running through town no longer resembled a river.

Thorin glanced to the east and judged that it would be at least another hour before it would be early enough to visit the pub to inspect the door latch. Looking back at his sleeping companion to see if she was still asleep, he began to quietly move around his workshop, gather the tools he would later need to make sure he was able to properly fix the pub's latch.

It was a good hour later when he noticed that Hermione was stirring from her slumbers. He set aside his pack that he had been going over, making sure that he would have everything necessary for the next leg of his journey. Taking the wrapped bread and cheese from the table where he had left it yesterday, Thorin walked over towards the forge and set the food on a small bench that stood in the middle of the room as his guest sat up from his bedroll.

He watched as she blinked and looked around. "Where…," he heard her begin, before he eyes landed on him. Her eyes seemed to become more alert as she recognized him. "Good Morning," she said, as she brought a hand up to try and tame her mussed hair.

"Good Morning," Thorin replied politely as he watched her stifle a yawn. "How are you feeling?"

She paused for a moment before responding, "Better. The headache is gone, and my stomach is not queasy."

"Good. I am going out for a bit, but should be back shortly. There is a rain barrel on the west side of the workshop which you can use to freshen up with. Your clothes should be dry as well. I left some food on the bench," he said as he pointed to where he had just deposited the bread and cheese. "When I get back I will take you to the inn. There they should be able to help determine what you should do from here and out." Satisfied that he had adequately explained the situation he picked up the small satchel with his tools and slung it over his shoulder.

"You will be back soon?" She asked as she untangled herself from the bedroll, and looked at him with a spark of curiosity that had not been there the night before.

Thorin nodded. "No more than an hour," he replied with a nod. "Until then." He gave a small bow of his head to her, turned on his heels and walked out the door, leaving her and her scantily clad legs to herself.

The task at the pub was no more difficult than he expected it would be. He would need to craft a new mechanism in order to properly fix the latch, but it would not take him long to complete. He let the pub owner know that he would be back in the afternoon to finish the job, and he packed up his tools. True to his word he had not been gone long, and when he re-entered his workshop he found himself slightly surprised. Everything looked just a touch more organized, or maybe just clean? He glanced to his left and found Hermione sitting at the table under the window fiddling with the list of jobs he had yet to do.

She glanced up at him with a welcoming smile. "Hello," she said simply.

"Hello," he replied.

"I hope you don't mind, but I took some liberties and just tidied up a bit while you were out." Indeed she had. The bedroll was back away from the forge, the twine was rewound, and the tools that had been laying haphazardly on the bench next the forge had been straightened. The other chair had been pushed neatly under the back table, and the contents of his desk looked to be more in order as well. He looked back down at her hands, and his list. Had she been snooping?

With a frown marring his brow he held out his hand for the small scrap of parchment. At first she did not seem to realize what he was gesturing for, but then a sheepish smile came over her face and she handed it to him. "Sorry," She said, ducking her head slightly, a light blush rising on her cheeks. "I was just curious. I have never seen script like that before."

He glanced down at the note that was now in his hand. Never seen Khuzdul? He glanced back up at her. She did truly seem puzzled by the note itself, and her face was open and innocent. This woman just seemed to add mystery upon mystery. "It is the written form of my people's language," Thorin replied simply, keeping his voice neutral as he tucked the note into the breast pocket of his coat. "I am surprised that you have never seen it before."

At this statement the woman seemed to almost close off completely. While before she had been open, her upturned lips fell and she glanced back out the window. "Yes, well, as I said last night, I think I am very far from home."

"And where is your home?" Thorin asked, his own curiosity piqued.

"England."

"England," Thorin replied as he test the name on his tongue. "I do not know of it. Is it in the realm of Rohan or Gondor? Or still further east of the realms of men?

A pained look seemed to flit across her face as she shook her head. "I do not know," she answered, her voice strained.

Thorin stared at her, and regretted uttering those words. If there was one thing that he absolutely did not like, it was crying women. And this one seemed to be getting mightily close. Deciding it would be best if he changed his tactics, he cleared his throat and started anew. "While I am not as familiar with the land of men, perhaps the innkeeper will have more information than I."

While this did in fact appear to eliminate the almost-crying expression from his guest's face, it brought about one that was wrought with confusion. He could barely hear her, but he was almost certain that in a confused murmur she had repeated him. "…land of men…" Her eyes seemed to clear a bit and she looked back up at him, the spark of curiosity that he had noticed earlier returned. "You keep on saying that," she said, her voice clearer than it had been before, but still obviously confused. "'The land of men' and 'the realm of men.' What do you mean by that?"

Now it was Thorin's turn to look confused. He meant exactly what it sounded like. "I am only referring to lands of those that I assume are your people," he replied slowly. "I doubt that you find your home in dwarvish or elvish territories." If Thorin had not been paying careful attention to how his guest reacted to his words he would have missed how her eyes seemed to widen slightly and her jaw slacked as he mentioned the dwarvish and elvish territories.

Confused at what this reaction meant, Thorin decided that the sooner he was no longer hosting his current guest the sooner he would no longer have to worry about the mystery that now seemed to plague his mind. "Come, I think we should go pay a visit to the innkeeper."

Hermione only nodded and stood up to follow him out into the small town.

Notes: Much thanks to Sakuralilian for going through this for me. :)