Hana was reluctant to stay, but was not keen on venturing out into the storm, either. So she found a spot on the floor, sat, and pulled out a long pipe. She was ready to light up when she realized Thorin was watching her curiously from in front of the fire. She looked up at him without moving and asked. "Care for a bit? It's a pretty good blend, if I say so myself."

He nodded and she reached into her pack, on the floor next to her, and pulled out a small pouch with finely grained pipe weed in it. She stood up to hand it to him, their eyes meeting with the fire crackling beside. Hana felt an odd tingling she knew was not from the warm of the flames. As she placed it in his hand, a little slower than she had intended, he managed a smile. A few moments passed, and she pulled her hand away first. "Thank you," Thorin managed, his usually projecting voice barely audible. He assumed a spot, also on the floor, across from Hana, and both lit up and savored the first whiffs of the strong weed. She looked down her pipe at the emerging smoke, pleased.

"So how would someone like you become acquainted with Elves"? Thorin looked up at the ceiling, suspected a leak, then his eyes came to rest on Hana at the end of his question.

"Someone like me?" Hana raised her eyebrows, mildly affronted.

"Well, you're clearly not an Elf. Just making an observation." He inhaled a long drag of weed.

Hana shifted on the floor from sitting cross-legged in her long dress to inching closer to the fireplace, legs stretched out in front of her. She took her boots off, revealing her bare feet, which were sore and tired of being constricted. Quickly after taking them off, she thought better of it. He might see this as a bit risky, or repulsive. I can't get up and leave as fast. Oh well. He's already labeled me as a lowly mortal. The thin dress was not the most weather appropriate choice of clothing, but she did not have much else. It made her skin itch. Thorin looked down his own pipe at her bare feet, then back into her eyes.

"No, I'm not. I'm mortal, just an ordinary mortal. They found me, by chance as a child, in Dorwinion. Not far from the where the woodland Elves dwell in the Greenwood. I was a child of simple growers. An Elf visiting from Rivendell and a few of his kin found me crouched rather pitifully beneath some large rocks after an Orc raid on my village. Every living thing in sight was slaughtered. Why they didn't come back to sniff out a weak child, I don't know. Stupid Orcs, maybe. Maybe they were scared off. Whatever the reason, I was lucky. I was barely four years old. The Elf who found me took me in and I was raised with them, until I left Rivendell as an adult. He saved my life."

Thorin studied her face intently. He was barely blinking, which Hana interpreted as his eyes glazed over from profound boredom. "My apologies if I bored you with all that," she said curtly, as she laid down her pipe and shifted to a cross-legged position on the floor again. "I guess that was more than you cared to ever know."

Thorin said nothing at all for a few moments. "Why would an Elf take in a mortal, orphaned child? Forgive me for the impertinence, Hana, but I have never known Elves to be merciful in the slightest. I have seen Elves look suffering and ruin in the face and turn deaf ears to pleas for help."

Hana narrowed her eyes disdainfully. "I don't know. Maybe this one who rescued me was the one Elf in Middle Earth with a heart." She raised her open hand and then let it fall next to her as she wearily defended herself.

Thorin looked down, then blankly into the fire. "Do you remember any of it? The attack that killed your family?" His voice went quiet again.

Hana looked down on the floor, and sighed. "I saw nothing until I was pulled out by my rescuer, my now father. I was hiding." Her speech slowed, and she paused and swallowed. "I have never forgotten some of the sounds. The sounds of throats being slit, screaming voices from people and animals being burned alive, the clank of swords and armor during the fray. The sound of my pregnant mother screaming my father's name and then her voice abruptly silenced. The smells of scorched flesh and decay. Two nights passed after the attack, before I was found. I was alone with the silence. Those things, I have not forgotten and try as I may, probably never will."

Thorin was still contemplating at the fire. "You still remember that, from four years old. Of course, how could one ever forget that…" he trailed off.

Hana tucked her knees under her chin, hugging her calves. She looked back at him, not breaking her gaze this time. He turned and faced her. I will give you a taste of what this feels like, she thought. "Now you," she mumbled.

"Now me?" Thorin shrugged.

Hana sat upright, and moved closer, to unnerve him. She was a little more than an arm's length away. He did not move, a bit taken aback by her boldness. "I told you about me. Tell me yours."

The hint of a smile crept back on Thorin's face again. "What if I told you you'd be waiting a long time?" He was immoveable.

Hana backed off, paused and stood up. She had forgotten herself and had dug too deep at him, apparently. She put her boots back on and winced slightly as she put her weight back on her feet. "I'm sorry. I won't pry. I need to get going anyway." She reached for her belongings and made for the door. It was still dripping outside, though not as heavily as before.

'Where are you going?" He asked, rather deadpan. He did not follow her, but looked mildly surprised at her sudden exit.

"Back to my room. The hour is late, and I must take my leave. Good night, Thorin." Hana glanced back at him for a second, then departed into the night.

Hana spent much time over the next few weeks gathering and refining as much as she could. She took two trips to Briarly a week to trade and sometimes sell. Almost three months had passed since she stopped at Eldfell, and circumstances had prevented her from moving on as she had intended. The days were getting shorter, and Hana made the best use she could out of the precious daylight. She limited her meals to twice a day, saving as much coin as she could. Her reduced meals and constant walking made her drop weight, something she had not exactly wanted. Hana was eager to leave the inn and find somewhere quieter, somewhere of her own, to work and have peace. She had had her fill of the rough sorts she encountered there. While on her daily walks, she spotted a very small cabin about a three mile distance from the edge of the woods surrounding Eldfell. She approached it one afternoon, curious to see if anyone inhabited the place. It was built of stone, with a wooden roof, and lay tucked between some tall pines. The outside did not look like it had been disturbed in ages. There was a narrow well in front, and Hana labored to haul up a pail, but there was water. Hana cautiously peeked in one of wooden shutters, as there were no actual windows. Inside, she saw a dusty floor, no furniture, and a fireplace about the size of tree stump. It had been undisturbed for a long time. There were no footprints on the floor, no signs of anyone dwelling in the place. Hana asked around town to see if anyone owned it, or if the original inhabitants were coming back. "No one has lived there for years," a stocky middle-aged man told her as they passed in the street. "Don't reckon I've ever seen anyone near it. It's so small, you see," He casually gesticulated at no one in particular. Hana got similar answers from other townspeople, and decided to move there herself. She had some misgivings about just living there in case an owner ever appeared, but if nothing else, it could be another temporary residence. She spent three days cleaning it as well as she could, and moved in with her scarce belongings. It was cold and small, just one little room, but it was better than staying at the inn. The smells of earth, timber, and must permeated the place. The only sounds she heard were outside; the strengthening wind, owls, crows, and the distant howls of wolves at night. The first two nights she spent in her cabin were an adjustment. Hana appreciated the quiet and solace, as opposed to the noise and smoke of the inn, but her nerves were ever present. She kept her longest blade next to her when she slept, a wooden beam across the door for added security, and always remained on alert. Two weeks to the day after Hana moved into the cabin, the snow began to fall. It was only light, scurrying flakes, but she knew it was just a short time until the heavier fall came. Hana provisioned as much as she could, kept her boots dry, and spent her afternoons carrying twigs and logs for fires. She had managed to trade for a couple of large wool blankets, two heavier woolen dresses, trousers, two tunics, and thick stockings. She kept her few valuables, coin, extracts and vials buried under a floorboard wrapped in a cloth and bound. Hana always had misgivings about winter, but now, since she was so far from her adopted home and alone, she was apprehensive. Winter in the mountains would be a challenge she had not faced before. If she survived it, luck would have to be on her side.

Hana was out in the woods one morning, about four miles from her cabin, picking up fallen branches. The woods grew quieter as the air grew colder and crisp. She had seen nothing for almost two hours but a shy deer peering at her from behind a thicket. The snowflakes began to fall, slowly and lightly. The shadows grew longer, so Hana bound the branches into a roll and strapped them on her back, and walked in the direction of her cabin. The burden was not as heavy as it was uncomfortable and oddly shaped. She had been walking about fifteen minutes. A rustle of leaves and the cracking brush under his feet signaled his presence before she saw him.

"Haven't seen you in a while." The voice shook Hana like a flash of lightning. She gasped aloud and she pulled a knife from her belt, ready to use it. Her scalp crinkled, her heart was pounding so loud she heard it outside of her body. Then she let out a stressed sigh when she saw him, a few yards away, emerging from behind a tree with an axe in his hand.

Hana was still rattled. She lowered the knife, let out a couple of breaths, cursing and tucked it away. Thorin strode a few paces closer. "Is it safe?" The rare smile crept across his face. He looked a bit different since the last time she saw him, dressed warmer, wearing a heavy, long sleeved tunic, wool trousers and a fur lined cloak. He saw that Hana had been startled and wore the regret plainly. "Forgive me….forgive me." He shook his head with remorse as he saw how unsettled she was. Hana's heart was still pounding, so hard it almost hurt. He stood facing her, close enough that he reached out gently pulled a stray lock of hair away from her face, a bit tousled from her scare. When she was ready to speak, Hana looked him squarely in the eye. For a moment she wanted to hit him. "I'm sorry, really," he said softly. Then he sighed. "Are you going to be cross now?"

Hana managed to breathe easily again and sat down on a large mossy rock. Thorin sat beside her, and gave her space for a few minutes. He looked out into the distance, silently. She pulled out a small bottle with water in it, and drank. She offered it to him. "It's not poison," she quipped, as he took it from her doubtingly. Hana knew her voice sounded strained and it annoyed her. "If it were I would not be drinking it. And no. I won't be that cross." She let out a long, shaky breath. "Not for long, anyway. Next time, announce yourself." Much as she fought it, her face betrayed her and they shared a mutual smile, Thorin even chuckled.

"What are you doing out here? Don't you ever worry about going into the woods alone?" He studied her questioningly as she looked down at her bottle, resealing the cork with a gloved hand and placing it carefully in her small bag. Hana smiled as she looked back up at him. He was close enough to her that their arms were touching. Hana wait to see who would recoil first. Neither did.

"Of course I worry. I never stop worrying. To gallivant into the woods carelessly would be folly. But I can't let past experiences cripple me like that. I've got to keep going. I'm all I've got." She shrugged. "I am out here stocking up," she kicked at the bundle of branches to show him. It was almost as long as she was tall. Thorin observed the haul, then looked over his shoulder at her.

"You've got your work cut out for you, then."

"It doesn't look like much, but I've got it under control," Hana answered defensively. She did not ask for his input or impertinence. Then he spoke again, much to Hana's puzzlement. Thorin was more talkative now than she had witnessed in their previous encounters.

"You finishing up for the day?"

Hana contemplated the question for a few seconds and then replied. "Eh, I might as well. Maybe I'll come out again tomorrow if the snow holds off." She gave the sky a brief glance, then hopped off the rock, slipping a bit because of its slick surface. Once on her feet, she strapped on her branch bundle. Hana must have looked wild and unkempt as her dark hair blew free in the chilly wind. She faced a still seated Thorin barely narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. Hana was not amused but said nothing. She simply raised her eyebrows and tilted her head in question. What now? Yes, I know I'm covered in dirt. So are you. He stood up and effortlessly yanked his axe out of the ground by the base of the rock.

"Would you permit me to walk with you?" he asked. Hana glanced back at him, wondering what this was about. "Yes," she answered dubiously. He stood up, waiting for her to lead, and they headed in the direction of Eldfell.

The walk back to town seemed shorter to Hana than the walk into the woods from earlier. She felt compelled to talk during the awkward pauses when all either of them could hear was the crack of twigs underneath their feet and the wind picking up momentum. Thorin also walked a pace behind her, which she found unsettling. The heavy thuds of his steps behind her were bothersome. She stopped for him to catch up. He strode at the same leisurely pace he had kept and squinted his eyes at Hana.

"Is something wrong?" He stopped right in front of Hana. Once again, she looked him in the face, unnerved.

"I waited for you to catch up. I don't like you walking behind me. Why do you?" When she finished the sentence, Thorin frowned, puzzled.

'Because you know where you're going. So I'm following you. Is that alright?" There was a slight annoyance in his tone.

For a moment she said nothing as they stared each other down. Then Hana shook her head with a jerk and sighed. Maybe that was unreasonable of me, she thought. He did not see why having someone walk behind them, purposefully, might be irritating. He smirked at her slightly, again, which made Hana want to deck him in the face. "Alright, fine. As you wish." He caught up and they approached a clearing at the edge of the woods, walking toward the outskirts of the village of Eldfell. It was late afternoon, the shadows long already because of the changing season. The mottled grey skies overhead signaled something, possibly more flurries. Hana and Thorin walked side by side, down the main road. Most of the villagers that were out went about their business, taking no notice of the pair. A blank faced young boy, maybe twelve, passed them, leading a indifferent looking horse behind him with a rope. The sound of wind and rustling leaves being blown about was ever present.

"How long have you been on your own?" Thorin asked. Their crackling footsteps on the gravelly road provided some background noise. "Did something happen to make you want to leave?" Thorin looked to his ride side at her, and Hana walked a few steps, her eyes fixed ahead. After a short contemplation, she answered.

"I've been by myself for almost three years. I left because…(she paused again) because I know I will have to, eventually. Most everyone I know there is Elven. My own father is. He will outlive me. The few friends I had growing up will also. They will reach the age of two thousand years and look like me, and I am barely thirty human years. I'll live to be a hundred...if I am fortunate." She let out a meditative sigh, looking down at the ground and her dirty boots before kicking a small rock ahead. Preoccupied, she kicked it again and watched it roll ahead of them.

Then Hana spoke again. "It is an isolating feeling. One I have had since I was brought there as a child." Hana silently chastised herself for revealing so much in her answer. There was quiet before Thorin answered her. He looked back at her, with mild interest.

"You have reached thirty human years?" He raised his eyebrows with curiosity. Hana did not like talking about her age, let alone with a Dwarf who would live a full century or more longer. "Almost. I will be thirty in the spring." She was glum now. A few minutes passed and then she spoke. Hana was fixated on something ahead of them, inattentive for a second. She tried to ignore a man off in the distance ahead, bellowing inanely.

"How old are you, Thorin?" She stopped walking. He walked three steps ahead, slowed down, then also stopped and turned around to face her. He sighed.

"I see. You revealed your age, now it's my turn?" The corners of his lips turned up into a genuine smile. Hana was unflinching. She crossed her arms, determined.

"Yes. "

He looked off into nothing off to his right, then at Hana. He decided to humor her. "I have lived one hundred ninety two years. Though it feels like much longer than that."

She returned the smile, slowly. "How can it possibly feel longer? Isn't almost two hundred years long enough?"

Thorin looked down at the axe, which he had lowered to the ground and leaned a hand on the handle. He shrugged and was about to speak when the heckler, who appeared to be somewhat inebriated, interrupted them. He was across the road from them and about a hundred feet away. His epithets were clearly audible, and Hana bristled. Thorin picked up the axe and backtracked towards her, eyeing the heckler with disdain. The filth spewing out of the man's mouth insulted them both. He tightened his grip and visibly held it loose, as if at the ready.

"Don't pay him any mind. Clearly the drink has gotten him." The way the man looked at Hana made her feel sick. He licked his yellow teeth at her.

"I'm not. It's not the first time I've heard insults like that. He's just a dirty minded fool. Keep walking. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of thinking I care." Thorin glowered at the lech threateningly but kept walking alongside Hana, who kept her head upright and her eyes fixed ahead of them. Luckily, the man did not follow them, and once they left enough distance behind them both looked over their shoulders, she over her right, Thorin over his left.

"Dirty bastard," Hana muttered, giving her head a pensive shake. Thorin sneered as he looked back, as if he tasted something sour. Then they faced each other, and she frowned, puzzled. "Didn't you miss your turn back there at Pigot?"

Thorin lifted the axe back across his shoulder, nodding. Then their eyes met. "I did." The wind was strengthening still, drumming against their ears, and the temperature was dropping.

Hana adjusted her bundle on the other side of her back, which was getting sore. "Well I'm going home now. It's through there," she motioned to a clearing in the woods behind them with her hand. "You can come see it, if you want, though there's not much to it. I can make some tea?" As soon as Hana finished the sentence she cringed inwardly. It sounded even more odd coming out of her mouth than she thought it would. Hana had never been a brilliant conversationalist. She felt like groaning aloud, but managed to hold back.

Thorin was watching her, eyebrows slightly raised again, and a warm smile slowly broadened across his lips. "Yes, I'd like to," he answered jauntily. Hana returned the smile and they set out in the direction of woods as the daylight waned.

Trudging through the carpet of fallen leaves and brush, Hana was slowing down. Her shoulders were sore, and she remembered she had been out, moving almost the entire day. Thorin walked quietly beside her, looking casually out at the wilderness ahead. He took a deep breath. "Being an outsider is never easy, is it?", he said, looking over at her.

Hana glanced back. She took in his words, looking at him, and shook her head wearily. There was something soft in his glance, maybe compassion. Then she turned her eyes back to the path in front of them. "No….no it's not. I supposed I am used to it now, though. " They had been walking fifteen minutes and Hana was feeling fatigue catch up with her. Thorin noticed, slowing his pace down as well. He spotted her cabin as she was about to announce it. With a single nod he said gruffly, "That it?"

"Yes, it is," Hana answered as their gait slowed and long shadows cast from the trees crossed into their path. They slowly walked up to the old well and Thorin stopped. He surveyed the little hut, woods, and well around him, and turned around as he took it in. 'Rather off the beaten path" has mentioned, briefly focused on the tall trees surrounding them.

Hana trudged up to the door and unlocked it. "I prefer it that way," she replied. "There's a distance between me (she paused and heaved a sigh) and those odd village sorts." She turned around and looked at him, stone faced, then broke into a smirk. She was glad he was not too thin skinned, as Thorin raised his right brow and took the jab with a chuckle. He walked behind her and ducked passing through the doorway. He set his axe and bundle down on the floor to the right of the door, and Hana set her load down in a corner about ten feet away with a faint grimace. Her body was sore. She was removing her boots and cloak, and noticed he seemed perplexed by the door, studying it intently. He touched the bolt, then looked up at the top of the doorframe. He had not been inside more than two minutes.

"What is it? Is something the matter?" Hana queried as she hastily plaited her hair. She frowned, perplexed.

Thorin did not answer for a moment. He shook his head as if to brush off the thought, then turned around. "The door…the bolt on it is not secure. All it would take is someone to kick it open." Their eyes met and Hana's brow grew more furrowed. "I lay that across it when I'm here". She motioned with her hand to the beam on the floor nearby. "When I'm not, well….I jam it with a rock." She folded her arms stubbornly across her chest.

Thorin walked a few steps closer, his own arms folded. "The beam is better than nothing, but not by much. You ought to see to that."

Hana nodded casually, if not a bit dismissively. "Fine. I'm making some tea. Do you want any honey in yours? Please, sit. You can have the chair."

Thorin looked at the lone chair, then at her, "I'll sit on the floor, actually. No honey." He sat down beside the fireplace as Hana lit it. The flames slowly matured and she waited for the kettle to heat. There had been water left in it from the previous night. She found herself a spot facing Thorin and sat cross-legged, offering him some bread. He took it, nodding with gratitude. Hana looked over his shoulder and across the small room to see that night had fallen. Thorin stared into the fire, and Hana did as well. The few moments of quiet passed between them, heavy with thought. Hana broke the silence after preparing their loose tea in two ceramic cups. She handed Thorin his first. "Take care not to burn yourself," she said. He took it carefully from her fingers.

"Well, it would not be the first time." He took a sip. It was strong and aromatic. "Blacksmiths get burns almost daily." He seemed a bit lost in thought.

Hana sipped hers and her brow furrowed again. "Have you always been a blacksmith?"

Thorin was glanced at her over the top of his cup. He sighed and looked over at the fire thoughtfully. "No…not always. Only since I left home."

Hana set her cup carefully in her palm and waited for him to continue. "Where is home?'

He looked away from the fire and back at Hana, sternly. She did not know what about her last question could have been affronting but said nothing. What should she reproach herself for?

He hesitate a moment before answering. "Home lies in the the Wilderland, the former stronghold of my people. Its capital was Erebor. It was once prosperous, wealthy, peaceful and renowned over Middle Earth. For most of my youth we lived in peace and held the respect and awe of all other peoples." Thorin tilted his head to the right and then added softly, "Even that of Elves." His brows raised in emphasis.

Hana arched her brows barely an inch but let him continue. Thorin glanced downward at the floor. "I….I was not much of a craftsman. More of an assistant to my grandfather. "

Hana tried not to show how keenly interested she was. Thorin clearly was not the sort of person who divulged personal information readily, and this was perhaps an indicator that maybe he was beginning to trust her.

"Did you have any other family? She set her cup down beside her on the floor. "Did you have a wife?"

A loaded minute passed before he answered. The fire cast a dramatic shadow on the right side of his face. Hana rethought her last question briefly, it was bold of her to ask. Thorin faced her again, his penetrating stare was one Hana had not seen before. His voice grew lower and softer. "I never knew my mother, she left when I was young. My father did also. I have one sister, who was widowed young. I helped rear her sons."

Thorin sighed wearily. He seemed agitated by the question, looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds, and then back at Hana.

"My grandfather reared me…and…I had no wife. I've never had one."

Hana was intrigued. Not because of how he looked and the fact that he was seated so close to her, but because he confided in her. She sensed there was more to the story, from his tone, but did not interrupt except to wordlessly extend him a pipe and some weed. Thorin accepted, nodding again. Hana studied the lines under his eyes, earned from almost two centuries of life, what she presumed were often tough years. The sharp line of his long nose gave him a perpetually stern but noble profile. For all his dogged demeanor and manner, there was also a calmness Hana saw more of since the first time she met Thorin.

She let him light his pipe first, then lit her own and contentedly inhaled a long puff of glorious smoke. She watched as he did the same, hoping it offered him solace.

"Why did you leave?" Tendrils of unfurling smoke blew lazily between them.

Thorin had been watching the modest fire again. "It was not voluntary. We were driven out. Dragon attack. This would have been long before your time." He flexed his fingers holding the pipe and sighed with fatigue. "Whatever the beast didn't burn, it took. So everyone living in the area, Dwarves and non-Dwarves alike, fled."

Hana inhaled and met Thorin's eyes. "What was it after?"

"Gold, of course. The king had become obsessed with wealth, and our defenses at the time were weak too defeat it. So it seized the chance to attack."

Hana put her pipe down and studied Thorin's broody face intensely. She was frowning with concern at the story she had just heard. Thorin glanced back at her, anticipating a reply. She sighed.

"It sounds like the king was largely to blame for leaving his subjects defenseless. My father has said wealth attracts greed." She muttered halfheartedly.

Thorin snapped out of his troubled fog, turning abruptly to look Hana straight in the eye. It was as if someone had shattered glass right next to his ear. She had struck a nerve. He snorted indignantly. "Spoken like an Elf. What does he know?" His voice had raised quickly, and Hana tensed up. He was not shouting, but seemed on the verge.

Hana kept remarkably calm. She shook her head. "Those are his views, Thorin, not mine."

Their eyes remained fixed on each other. Thorin's half sneer softened a bit, and he looked down at his hand contemplatively. He took a few breaths and spoke. "Forgive me. I do not take back what I said, but I do regret the tone, it was unnecessary. "

Once finished speaking, he looked up from the floor at her. "The hour is late."

"Yes. " Hana did not move except to shift her weight a little. Thorin stood up, grimacing as he stretched his back. She stood up to see him off. He gathered his belongings and slowly made for the door.

"Thank you, Hana….for today, and for listening." He loomed over her. Hana felt less daunted by it than she had when they first met. "Again, please forgive my tone just now."

"You're welcome. It's forgotten." She shook it off. "Take care walking back in the dark." She smiled slowly, which he returned.

"I will. Can I see you again…soon?" Thorin trailed off awkwardly. Hana was relieved she was not the only one who was clumsy when it came to conversation.

Hana smiled, revealing her teeth. "Yes. In the afternoons, preferably."

"Same. Goodnight, Hana," Thorin said. He opened the door, contemplated the bolt a second, and tapped it with his knuckles.

"Goodnight, Thorin." He nodded in acknowledgment, and then turned and disappeared into the night.

Hana walked to the well one morning, feeling frost crunch beneath her boots. The air was crisp, bitingly cold, and quiet. She had been to Briarly two days prior, and was unsure about how many trips she could make there when the heavy snows arrived. It would not be long until the deluge, for which she had been preparing as best she could. Hana carefully rationed out her wood use for the day, burning her fires only at night. She hunted small game, drying out the meat of rabbits, wild turkeys and quail to add to her food stores. If she was especially lucky, she could take an animal every other day. She stuck to using her blades most of the time, but occasionally made use of her bow. There were few ventures into the deeps woods now, unless it was for game. Hana did not want to risk being caught out in the forest, carrying heavy loads and be at the mercy of the weather. Hana heaved up the pail, tugging on the rope with gloved hands. The rope and pail felt unsound. After a few minutes, the pail was within her view. She reached for it, and saw a thin layer of ice floating across the top of the water. Inside was about two days' worth. She carried it inside, and set it on the ground next to the hearth. Hana removed her gloves and allowed herself one cupful. She held her right hand out in front of her face, fanned, and noticed how dry and cracked it had become. The other was in the same condition. Her knuckles were raw, with little cuts forming where the skin was opened. She set to work stitching a fur lining onto one of her cloaks. It was the fur of a couple of rabbits she had taken recently. There was enough to line the hood, but not the whole cloak. As her dried fingers pierced and pulled, Hana's thoughts turned to her father. The pressure of the needle on her fingertips hurt. She thought about him and her adoptive family often, wondering what they were up to, and if any of them ever spared her a passing thought. Had he given up completely on combat, and chosen to pour over texts and runes? He had alluded to it in one of their last conversations. An hour or so had passed since Hana began stitching, and she looked out towards the window. Seated cross-legged in her one chair, she wrapped her hands in the warmth of the cloak. Would she be able to continue through life being alone? Hana pondered the possibility often. She could settle in a village like Eldfell, inhabited mostly by mortal Men. She had never made friends with ease, or felt completely comfortable around new people. Would she diminish, eventually die, and anyone even care? Then again, she was almost thirty and there was no certainty she would live to see old age. Weather, illness, or combat could get take her life any time.

Hana needed to get out of the hut and get fresh air. I've got to move, Hana said to herself. I have been sedentary too long today. Her feet tingled with pins and needles. She put the cloak down, washed her hands and pulled on boots over her wool trousers. She plaited her hair, coiled and fixed it into a low knot at the base of her neck. Hana splashed a bit of water on her face to clean up. The cold air would add some color to her cheeks. She decided to go into Eldfell. Maybe in search of another pail, and to call on Thorin. She donned her other cloak, her gloves and a scarf, and departed.

The journey into town took longer as the weather grew colder. Everything was coated with thick frost. Luckily, there had been light snowfall recently, which made foot travel easier. Eldfell was not a ghost town this day, but was not bustling, either. Chimneys emitted slow, thin clouds of smoke. An elderly woman, heavily bundled, emerged from the inn and beat a small rug against the side of the building. As Hana turned to walk onto Pigot Lane, it seemed even more quiet and foreboding than previous walks there. Her toes were numb, the relentlessly harsh winter air wrapping itself around them. Her fingers felt the itchy sting of mild frostbite. The same crows squawked their indignant warnings at her as she approached the smithy. Hana noticed there was no smoke coming from the chimney, and wondered if Thorin had taken to rationing out his firewood as well. Hana knocked on the door with a gloved, sore hand. She absentmindedly studied the knicks on the weathered wood, and found it a bit perturbing he did not answer right away. She brushed it off. It is cold, everyone is moving slower. Lighten up. Hana knocked again after five minutes passed, more forcefully the second time in case he did not hear the first. She heard the weighted footsteps approaching the door, but they decelerated and then stopped.

"Who's there?" Thorin's hoarse voice called out.

Hana frowned and cocked her head closer to the door. "It's me, Hana," she answered. "Are you busy at the moment?"

No footsteps were heard. No movement at all. A lengthy pause followed. Then she heard, "Just push on the door. It's unbolted."

Hana was unsure about the situation. For Thorin not come to the door and answer it himself was uncharacteristic. He was wary of anyone who came to his door and guarded about who he invited in. Hana remembered from when she first met him. She pushed open the door and walked in hesitantly.

"Why on earth haven't you got your fire going? It's freezing out there," she said looking down as she wiped her boots and flipped back her hood with a wave of her right hand. Then she saw why. Thorin was hunched over, leaning his weight forward, hand steadying himself on a chair. He was dirtier looking than usual, and only had filthy socks on his large feet. His breathing appeared to be labored, as if he had taken a blow to the chest. He glanced up at Hana slowly.

"I can't get to the fire."

Hana walked closer to him, puzzled. "Why ever not…" she saw his left forearm wrapped in a crude, dirty bandage. She stepped closer to inspect it and he pulled away.

"DON'T TOUCH IT!" Thorin shouted. Hana backed away, startled. Then Thorin let go of the chair, and slunk back against a wall, his left leg outstretched and right bent. He leaned his head back against the wall. "For-forgive me. Please. I did not mean to shout at you. I just can't have anyone touch it…" he stammered as he sweat profusely. His eyes were closed. Hana knelt down in front of him and saw not only was his forearm bandaged, so was his left leg above the knee.

"I was not going to touch it, I just want to look at it," she said indignantly. "These could be infected. I just want to see if I can clean them off. I'm trying to help you."

He opened his eyes at Hana, nodding. She carefully unwrapped the grimy bandage on his forearm. Thorin winced and groaned. A large, open wound that resembled a burn lay underneath. It was encrusted with blood, pus and antibodies, clearly indicating an infection. A closer inspection of the arm wound and the bandage on his leg indicated to Hana the wounds were at least two days old. She glanced down at his leg, and then at Thorin, whose eyes were open, but squinting in agony.

"May I? I won't touch it." She raised her hand in emphasis. He nodded at her.

Thorin's pants leg had a large hole where the wound occurred. Hana gingerly peeled off the makeshift bandage off his left thigh; it had been wrapped three times around. This wound was worse, deeper, and bloodier. The burn had taken off a few layers of skin, and the pus had formed a foul smelling layer the consistency of jelly over the top. Hana left the bandages on the ground and glimpsed his face, which was sickly pale.

"How did this happen? Did you burn yourself working or something?"

Thorin nodded again. "In the forge. Dropped a heated blade. " He sounded as if talking was straining him.

Hana put a bare hand to his forehead. It was much too hot for someone in a tiny smithy with no fire burning. The skin around his arm and leg wounds also felt unusually hot. She put the back of her hands to his cheeks. He flinched at the sensation of her icy cold skin against his.

"You need to get into your bed. Can you try to walk if assist you?" His eyes told her with every slow blink: No. His body tensed up like a stubborn child unwilling to comply with his parent.

"I do not need to be in bed, I'm fine. "

"This is not fine, you can't even lift wood to drop in the hearth." She pursed her lips flatly.

He looked back at her, resolve solid. He did not move a muscle.

I will win this staredown, Hana thought. "You can't even get up to answer your door. Now move. We'll go slow."

She struggled as she squatted down to help Thorin to his wobbly feet. Thank heavens this is a short walk. Thorin's muscular, solid as a tree trunk frame was heavier than she anticipated. He was leaning most of his weight on her. He slung his right arm on her shoulders; head hung, and limped to his tiny room. It was like carrying a yolk on her shoulders with boulders attached on each end. Hana leaned down to clumsily throw back the covers with her free hand, grimacing, and then lowered him into a sitting position on it. He let out several pained breaths, head still down. He coughed heavily. Hana helped him straighten his body out, and laid him down. She drew the covers up under his arms, so she could clean and bandage the wounded left. She left his left leg uncovered until it was cleaned. She went outside and got a bowlful of the dusting of snow. Moving quickly, Hana began a fire, boiling the water to clean Thorin's wounds with. The fire took longer to start than she had time for. Hana crouched down, putting six decent sized logs in the hearth and the flames gradually rose up from the wood. The small pot of water was heating and she walked back to check on Thorin, who was not making a sound. His eyes were closed, breathing strained. Upon close inspection, beads of sweat continued to form on his clammy skin. Hana knew a fever when she saw one.

"Have you eaten anything in the last day?

He opened his eyes to look at her.

"No. I don't have the stomach for it." A nasty cough racked his chest.

Hana nodded slowly. "I understand. But you need to drink at least, to stay hydrated. I'm making you some tea. I want you to drink it. Alright?"

Thorin did not answer, but closed his eyes and nodded back. Hana went back to check on the fire, now decent sized flames crackled. The water was close to boiling. She gave it a few more minutes till it bubbled rhythmically. Hana carefully poured some in a cup for him, and another small quantity in another mortar sized bowl. She ripped off the hem of her own tunic. Hana located some cleaning rags in the forge, and brought her supplies into Thorin's room. She pulled a chair beside his bed, and made used of the tiny table beside it. As she rolled up her sleeves and raised her hand to clean off his arm, he pulled back with a jerk. His recoil made her agitated.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be. It will hurt, but it is to help you. If it doesn't get cleaned, it will fester and worsen." She glanced at him, biting the top of her lower lip.

Thorin looked Hana in the eye. He did not answer for a full minute. "Very well," he muttered. He realized resistance was futile.

She very gently dabbed off the blood, dirt, and pus, and Thorin muttered some Dwarvish curse words under his breath. Hana was not sure if they were directed at her or just exclamations of pain. By my beard, woman….stop….stop…."Stop. Please," he croaked pleadingly.

Hana paused for a moment. She had managed to clean it well, and could see the wound clearly. "I still have to do the leg, Thorin. I will work as quickly as you allow me to. That means you have to…(she sighed) cooperate."

She rinsed off the rag and set to work dabbing and cleaning the burn on his leg. It was worse than the wound on his arm. Hana quickly reached for a clean rag. It looked as if the blade had likely stuck to the skin a few seconds before he either whipped it away or it fell on the floor. Raw, red, wet skin lay exposed. Thorin cursed more, and yelled aloud. He grabbed his covers and squeezed them. Hana leaned some of her own weight on him to keep him from squirming. "Almost done….almost done (she cleaned the surrounding skin) there. I'm done. Now come the bandages."

Thorin breathed heavily as Hana tenderly wrapped the longer bit of rag around his leg. He winced as the fabric stuck to the wound. Then with care, she wound the small length of rag around his arm.

"I'm done, for now. I'll have to put some medicine on them later. Now try to drink." She helped him sit up. Hana had brought the tea hoping to drink it casually over conversation, not under these circumstances. But she was glad it had gone to use. Hana was pleased to see he drank it all. She set the cup down on the little bedside table, and helped Thorin lie back down. She covered him gently and gathered the used bandages and medical waste to dispose of, when his long, thick arm reached out for her wrist. It caught her off guard. Even sick and injured, his grip was strong.

"Hana..." he said softly. His head did not move, his eyes did not open.

"Yes?" She moved closer to hear him. He reached for her free hand and grasped it. It was ice cold.

"Stay, please. Stay close. If this is to be my last night….please."

Hana sat in the chair, Thorin still holding on to her.

"It won't be your last night. I'm getting you medicine and you'll heal."

"In case it is." He turned his head weakly to face her and his eyes barely opened.

She set down the used rags and took his hand with both of hers.

"I'm not going anywhere. Whatever you need…just tell me." She stayed seated until he fell asleep.

Please check out Fearlessness, a superb Legolas/OC fiction written by my wicked talented friend, OrangeGoggles. The research and care she has put into growing this story and her commitment to authenticity makes for a thrilling reading adventure. Give it a go, you'll be glad you did.