Thank you, guest reviewer from 8.8.14! Your words mean so much! :)

By the time Hana, Fili, and Kili had reached Eldfell, dusk hung over them. The day was nearly spent, and so were they. None of them had said a word for at least three hours, since they had been riding through the woods. As they slowly approached the smithy, dim lights from the windows signaled activity inside. The sinister warning of an owl resounded in Hana's ears as they wearily tied up the ponies. Hana trod to the door, part of her dreading opening it. She did not want to hear Thorin was dead. "You alright?" Kili asked her softly as she approached the door.

Hana turned to him and nodded, exhausted. "I will be when I get something to drink," she answered. Fili knocked hard, and within seconds the door flung open. Dwalin answered it, managing a smile when he saw the Dwarves. He did not smile when he saw Hana stagger in, but actually showed some visible concern when she pulled back her hood. Over the afternoon's travel deep purple bruises had formed along the left side of her face, running from her cheekbone to her jawline. Veins of dried blood had settled in the cracks in her chapped lips and formed a small crust in the left corner of her mouth. The petty dwarf's club had left its mark on her.

"What happened to you all?" queried Balin as he walked forward to greet them, touching Fili and KIli affectionately on the shoulder and taking their cloaks for them. He saw Hana in a blur as she walked past them all and over to Thorin's bedside. His skin looked even clammier than it had when she left, he was pale as blanched flour. But she saw his chest moving, and heard his labored breath as she leaned in to listen.

Meanwhile, Fili and Kili informed Balin and Dwalin of the petty dwarf attack . Hana set to work, peeling her tattered gloves off of her mangled fingers and reached in her cloak for the medicines. Her hands were rough from the cold and her activity over the last few days, bruised and sore. She set the medicines on the small table beside his bed and felt Thorin's forehead with the back of her hand. It felt cooler than she expected, which she took as a positive sign. Dwalin, Fili, and Kili spoke in low, indistinct voices the next room over, but Balin tentatively stepped in Thorin's room and waited in the doorway a moment before speaking.

"I did everything you told me to. I gave him the athelas as you instructed, and attempted clean water every couple of hours. He has not drunk much, I'm afraid." He wore his concern plainly on his face. "Will he make it, Hana?" Balin's voice was grave. Hazy candlelight revealed his eyes had glassed over.

Hana nodded slowly, hearing Balin's words but looking at Thorin. The large framed Dwarf looked vulnerable and helpless lying in bed. Then she turned to face Balin.

"I think he will. What we need now…(Hana inspected his arm wound, then lifted the covers to see the leg) is to get these wounds cleaned again and a lot of hot water. And…(she touched his cheek) for him to wake up."

Balin nodded wordlessly. He pursed his lips anxiously and looked resolute. "I'll fetch some water." He turned from the door and disappeared for a few moments.

Hana set to work, though second-guessing herself. She had felt sick to her stomach since about an hour into the journey back to Eldfell. The feelings of nausea had been coming in waves. She knew much of it was due to lack of sleep over the last two days. Wake up, she told herself. Shake it off. You will not do him any favors by messing this up. Carefully, Hana opened the jar of salve to work into the wounds. She heard the shift of a body nearby. "I might need you to put on some more water, another potful yet," she said as assessed the leg wound, uneasy. Then she glanced at the doorway and bit her lip, pressing her mouth into a straight line, rather embarrassed. Dwalin was standing there, watching Hana work.

"Oh. Sorry," she said flatly, her eyebrows giving a jerk of sarcasm. She shook her head. "I thought you were B-"

"It's no problem. He is headed this way. I will see more water is put on for you." Hana could not tell if the look he was giving her was one of suspicion or mild appreciation. She was too tired to tell the difference.

She opened her eyes forcefully, wide, and looked down at the floor, then back at Dwalin.

"Thank you", she answered slowly. It took more effort than it should have for her to speak. "It is much appreciated." Hana was genuinely grateful. The hostile atmosphere between them had dissipated somewhat, at least for now. Dwalin nodded briskly at her.

Balin brought her back a bowl of hot water, and Hana immediately used her last two clean washcloths to delicately dab at the wounds. Pinkish white beginnings of scar tissue were seen when she lifted the damp fibers off of Thorin's skin. She could tell the slimy layer of antibodies on each had been reduced since she ventured out to Briarly. Hana was pleased, it meant someone had cleaned them while she was absent. Hana gently pressed the comfrey salve into the warm skin, all the while listening to Thorin breathe. It was constant, but ragged. Slowly, she wrapped makeshift bandages around each burn, keeping the layers uniform and lined up. All four Dwarves had curiously ventured in to Thorin's room to watch her work. Hana was too deeply concentrated on his treatment to notice, until it came time for her to make him drink.

"Have we got something clean for him to drink from, please?" she asked no one in particular, tense.

Kili retrieved a small ceramic cup from the other room and handed it to her. Balin and Dwalin looked at each other, each waiting for the other to speak. Dwalin volunteered.

"Should Thorin be drinking if he is unconscious?" he asked.

Hana leaned her forearms on her legs, doubled over. Part of her wanted to pass out from exhaustion. Part of her felt like being sick all over the floor. She felt terrible. She shook her swimming head before answering.

"When was the last time you saw him drink anything?" She asked, voice muffled as she faced the wood floor.

Balin shrugged nervously. "Er, em, I'd say about three hours after you left ," he said. "None since."

Hana sighed. A few weighty minutes passed before she sat up and spoke.

"He has to wake up and drink. Or he will die in the next two days."

His nephews looked at each other, shaken. Dwalin's eyes were cast downward, off to the side, grim. Then Hana stood up with a jerk, as the stool scraped the floor noisily. She said nothing as she walked erratically out of the room, out of the smithy. The Dwarves looked at each other, perplexed. Fili watched her walk in to the darkness. The sounds of retching could be heard. Several minutes passed before Hana came staggering back, her face cold and sweaty and her skin ashen colored.

Balin spoke as she stood in the doorway. "You get some rest. We will take our turns keeping watch. We know what to do. We will see to ensuring everything is washed. If he wakes…we will alert you."

Hana felt herself trembling. She looked at them all dizzily, as they watched her with concern. Hana was too weak with fatigue to be embarrassed, but she would be later. Her defenses and energy down, she nodded at them all. They did not bother her with further questions. Hana found a corner against the wall in Thorin's room and slumped down to the dusty floor, stretching her stiff legs out in front of her. She covered them with her cloak. After shifting for a few minutes, trying to make herself slightly comfortable, she stopped moving. The ambient thuds of footsteps and low, hushed voices mixed with the distant glow of the steady burning fire put her to sleep.

Hana did not know how long she had been asleep when she was abruptly awakened. The fire was dying, and it was serenely quiet. Faint morning light was pouring into the dark smithy as a she heard two voices murmuring quietly, but earnestly. Hana barely opened her eyes and noticed someone had covered her with a blanket during the night.

"His eyelids….they're moving! "

There was the sound of shifting bodies trodding the floor nearby.

"Bless my beard, he's waking up!"

"Âkminrûk, Mahal!"

Balin and Dwalin's voices woke her, and when Hana pieced together what they were saying, she felt the inner urge to walk over there and see for herself. Her mind willed her to. But her body was not moving.

"We had better go tell her…." Boots stepped hurriedly across the floor and Balin touched Hana's arm, shaking her anxiously. "He's waking up. Come and look." He waited to make sure she was awake and then turned in a blur of brown and white.

Hana did not dawdle. She stood up wobbly, her legs still stiff and her neck nursing a cramp from upright sleeping. Thorin was breathing a bit faster, more regularly. She sat beside him and felt his forehead, noticeably cooler than from the night before. Hana searched his face nervously, awaiting more positive signs.

"His eyelids were moving, I swear it…" said Balin agitatedly.

Hana reached slowly for Thorin's uncovered left hand, and felt his pulse. His hand felt warm, which made her optimistic . She moved her thumb across his palm and lightly rubbed her fingers across the top, hoping for more movement. His fingers twitched suddenly, then very slowly moved, curling over Hana's thumb. His fluttering eyelids seemed like they would never open, but they finally did after a tense wait. When they opened, Thorin looked out ahead of him, blankly, then at Hana. Though it was largely due to her intense fatigue, she felt her eyes tear up a bit. She smiled warmly at him as their fingers shifted and they held hands properly. Thorin said nothing at first, just looked at Hana, utterly dumbfounded.

"It's about time you woke up. Gave us all quite a scare there," said Dwalin, cracking a smile. Balin just watched, relieved and also smiling.

Thorin turned his eyes to the Dwarves at the sound of Dwalin's low voice. He did not let go of Hana's hand. Balin noticed it but kept his fleeting glance discreet.

Thorin tried to make sense of the situation, to sort out his bearings. Then he began to speak, clearing his throat. "How long –(the throat clearing turned into a wheezy cough) how long have I been under?" he asked them.

"Almost three days," said Dwalin. Balin shook his head emphatically, his facial expression matter of fact, eyebrows arched.

"How…how did…" Thorin stammered.

Balin folded his arms in front of him. "She did it," he said, as he nodded his head in Hana's direction. "Hana has been here the whole time. Only left with the lads to get you medicine."

Hana squirmed in her seat, not keen on the attention suddenly focused on her. She spoke up. "They did too. All of them. It was a group effort." Balin stood behind Hana, out of her sight, shaking his head "no" at Thorin. Dwalin's eyes turned awkwardly away from his brother's, trying to remain inconspicuous.

Thorin turned his glance from Balin, puzzled, back to Hana. Upon closer observation, he noticed her injuries. He felt her rough palm and let go of her hand, turning it over and looking. It was grazed, reddened and raw. "What happened to you?" He mustered up the strength to try and sit up. Dwalin pushed him back down.

"We ran into a skirmish on the way back from Briarly," she said quietly. "In the form of two petty dwarves. They wanted the ponies, and… we said no. In so many words." Her mouth formed a hint of a sardonic smile. Thorin was not smiling. "They did that?" He asked, nodding toward her face, his sick voice rumbling. He visually inspected the purple and red marks on her jaw.

Hana murmured in acknowledgement. "They roughed up your nephews as well. But (she sighed wearily)…it's over. Now you need to drink." She reached over with her free hand for a cup of water, and handed it to him. Thorin would not stop ogling her injured face. She felt uneasy being watched over the rim of the cup as he drank. Rapid footsteps grew louder as Fili and Kili entered the room, groggy but happy to see their uncle awake and alert. Hana let go of Thorin's hand and stepped away from the bed, so his nephews could greet him. She let them edge her out as the Dwarves all conversed in earnest. Hana retreated into the front room of the smithy to do some needed washing. After getting a much needed drink of water, she plunged her hands into the hot water to wash some bandages and clothes. The water burned her injured hands as she gingerly kneaded the fabric. Hana desperately craved sleep and solitude. She made her mind up to leave the next day, after seeing Thorin safely through the night.

After administering the night dose of medicines, Hana found herself a spot against the wall in the front room to sleep. The Dwarves conversed with Thorin sporadically when he was not asleep. Hana did not sleep much. Another night sleeping upright and cold did not agree with her. She had not gotten a proper night's sleep in almost four days, and looked and felt dreadful. When she awoke, she managed to drink some tea and eat some bland soup Kili had prepared. Hana quietly slipped into Thorin's room as Balin had dozed off in the corner, slumped in a chair. She took the opportunity to give him his medicines, while there were not other bodies about and in her way. He was awake, and sat completely up when he saw her enter, with a cup of hot water for the echinacea in hand. Hana thought she felt his eyes on her as her back was turned slightly away. Her hands pressed hard against the jar of salve to open it. She screwed up her face as the wounded skin pulled against the lid.

Hana reached for the bowl of water on the table beside the bed to wash her hands. "How are you feeling today? You look better." She dried her hands with a small towel.

Thorin met her eyes, expressionless. "I feel better. (He heaved a deep sigh). You look rather….unwell." Hana's scalp crinkled as he fixated on her facial wounds.

Hana shrugged the comment off with a sigh of her own. "I'm just tired, is all," she said briskly. It was not entirely true. Hana looked at him, ready to treat him. He stiffened up as she motioned to his arm wound. Thorin looked at the open jar of salve, resolutely. "I don't need any more of that." Hana stopped rolling up her sleeve, caught rather off guard. She looked back at him frankly. "You do, actually. This is what is cleaning out the burn wounds. You may have noticed them improving. That didn't happen on its own." She raised both brows, hands on her knees. "So are you going to cooperate or not?" Hana's eyes narrowed. Fatigue was running her low on patience. She did not realize the others were watching from the doorway. A heavily tense moment passed between them, both staring each other down. "I would do as she says, Thorin," Balin said cautiously from the chair in the corner, having just awakened. It was the wrong thing to say. Thorin pursed his mouth annoyedly. Hana attempted to keep her tone civil as she spoke. "Now let me work. The sooner you stop griping the sooner I'll be done." She leaned closer to him, but Thorin pulled his arm away sharply. "NO!" He snapped at her, glaring. Hana remained as calm as she could. "Come now, stop it." She glanced at him incredulously. He pulled his arm further away. "For goodness sake, stop acting like a child, Thorin. This is what is going to help you!" Thorin was bristling. His voice had regained some of its strength and sounded like its usual low registered growl. He sat further upright. Their faces were close enough together she felt his breath on her as he spoke. It was unpleasant smelling. "Let me tell you something, woman. (His voice shifted from a deadly calm to a yell.) I DON'T TAKE ORDERS! I GIVE THEM! I don't take them from anyone, not even you!"

A look washed over his face after yelling at her, perhaps a twinge of regret. Thorin did regret his tone, at least. Hana felt the anger rising in her like boiling water. This was not what she needed, after trekking to Briarly, nearly dying. Not to mention the sheer exhaustion she was battling. Calmly, she bit her lower lip, trying to control her reaction. She looked down at the floor. Then she stood up suddenly, knocking the stool and a bowl of water over. "Then we have a problem," she shouted back, pointing to herself. "Because I don't take orders, either, from anyone! Be it on your own head, Thorin! As of now, I wash my hands of you!" Hana threw her hands up and turned suddenly, then grabbed her cloak and made for the smithy door. The Dwarves scurried out of her way, then one by one ventured to follow her. Fili stopped her as she approached the door. He put his hand on her arm. "Wait, Hana, don't go. Please. Uncle is grumpy and stubborn by nature. He doesn't mean it. Please don't..." Hana interrupted him. "No. I will not be treated this way. I won't stand for it. I'm exhausted. I'm going home. See that he finishes the treatment. So I know this wasn't a total waste of my time and effort." She left. Fili then boldly confronted his uncle. "You made a mistake, driving her away. She knew what she was doing, Uncle. Do you know what she went through to get you those medicines?" Balin followed her out. "Hana, wait!" he called. He ran after her. "Please! WAIT!" Hana ignored him. She stormed out of sight, breathing furiously, and headed for the woods, kicking the dirt angrily with each step.

Dwalin stood by the fireplace, looking at the door thoughtfully. He said nothing at first. Then, heavy footsteps signaled his entry to Thorin's room. "Well you buggered that up," he said morosely. "Now you've got to take your chances with us. And Balin is gone, so you're really at our mercy." He folded his arms across his chest decisively. Thorin scowled blankly at the door, glowering. "I will not be told what to do," he growled. "By anyone. If I die, so be it."

A couple of days passed since Hana and Thorin's spat in the smithy. Midway through the afternoon on the second day, Hana was carrying wood, ignoring the threat of distant thunder overhead. It sounded further away than it actually was, as the breeze whispered through the trees with increasing loudness, heralding the looming storm. She thought she heard another sound beyond the clearing. A flock of crows jetted off suddenly with warning. Hana put the wood down and brandished a knife, certain someone or something was moving about in the distance. A rabbit came scuttling out of the clearing, panicked. Hana gripped the hilt, prepared to wield it, breathing fast, heart pounding. "Who's there?" she demanded. "Show yourself!"

A moment passed before Balin ventured timidly from the brush, hands raised. "I'm sorry I startled you, Hana," he said apologetically. Hana sighed with relief. She put the knife slowly back in her belt and looked around suspiciously. " Is there anyone with you?" she asked. Balin shook his head. Hana put a hand on her hip as he approached her and tried to calm herself. "How did you know I lived out here, Balin?" She asked. She waited for his answer and crouched down to pick up the dropped wood. Balin postponed his reply until he was closer. "Did you follow me?" She narrowed her eyes at him. Balin nodded. "Aye, I did. Forgive me...but I need to speak with you, and it can't wait." He did not try to lie to her. Hana paused and held the wood. "You may as well come in," she offered. "Looks like it's about to pour." She nodded in the direction of the door. "I'm much obliged," Balin said politely. Hana dropped the wood beside the hearth and knelt in front of it, helping to build a fire. Balin watched her work as the rain began to fall. "Have you no family, lass?" He frowned inquisitively. Hana looked up at him. Why did he want to know? Then she nodded and looked down at the floor. "My father's an Elf," she muttered in a low voice. "No living immediate family." She looked back up at him, eyebrows raised nonchalantly. She could read him trying to make sense of what she just said. "I was adopted, obviously. As a small child." She sighed. "I miss him. But not enough to return home for a long time." Hana reflected on her words for a moment, then turned and put a pot of water on. She made them each tea and kicked off her boots. She sat on the floor, legs swung to the side, her dark hair in a loose ponytail. Beneath the bruises and dirt her green eyes shone, bright and alert. Balin sat opposite her, briefly admiring her natural, albeit marred, beauty. Hana returned his glance with slight annoyance.

"What is it?" she asked, her cup close to her mouth.

"Oh…nothing. Pardon me for staring, lass," he said hastily as he sipped from his own cup. "So you're probably wondering what was so important I had to follow you for," he said rather coolly.

Hana nodded as she swallowed, the warmth of the tea pleasing to her. She looked down at the contents blankly, frowning. "It must be important, for you to come out here. She sighed resignedly. "But how does it involve me?"

Balin began by rubbing his forehead agitatedly. She watched, puzzled and uneasy at what she was about to hear. He put his cup down, and began to pace in front of her. "What I am about to tell you, Hana, I don't tell many. No one, in fact, outside of my own kind. But...I think you should know. You saved his life. And in doing so... you saved our leader."

She rolled her eyes, then snorted. She put her own mug down, shook her head and folded her arms stubbornly. "If this is about Thorin, I do not wish to talk about him." Her eyes were cast down and off to the right. Balin stopped in front of her, standing and glancing at her with a solemn expression. "It is not just about him. It involves all of us Dwarves."

Hana was confused. She looked at Balin with squinted eyes. "I don't understand."

Balin nodded and bit his lower lip. "You wouldn't. Thorin is not who he appears to be."

She scoffed and followed with a mordant chuckle. "You mean he isn't a stubborn git? You could've fooled me." She shook her head and scoffed again bitterly. She was not prepared for what Balin was about to tell her. He looked back at her, gravely.

"Come have a look at this with me. I need to show you something," Balin said to her. Hana was unsure, but indulged him by walking to where Balin stood.

"Have you heard of Erebor?" he asked. Hana's eyes were widened curiously, eyebrows knitted together. It took her a minute to process the question. Then a sign of recognition showed in her eyes. "You mean the Lonely Mountain..." Hana interrupted. "Yes," Balin answered.

"Yes, of course. I've heard my father discuss it. It was renowned for its wealth and prosperity." Hana wondered where this conversation was going. Her nerves began to bother her.

The Dwarf reached in his cloak and pulled out a scroll, about the length of her forearm. It was aged, yellowed, and tattered on the edges. Balin held it in his hand, glanced thoughtfully at it, then her, and sighed. There was a pained look in his eyes. He laid it out in front of Hana on her small, one person sized table. The edges kept curling in as the aged document recoiled itself. She weighed it down with two small, empty jars. "What am I looking at?" she asked tersely, as she ran her fingers down the edges. The parchment detailed what looked like a family tree, but in cryptic, undecipherable text. She assumed it was Dwarvish. "I can't read that," she declared, annoyed. Balin turned his back to her, arms folded. He shook his head. "No. I would not expect you to." He waited a few moments as Hana studied the characters on the parchment, puzzled. The runes in front of her had been written ages before, the parchment easily three or more times her age. "Look at the bottom most word," Balin said. She did, utterly lost. "What does it say, Balin?" she asked, fearing his answer. He faced her, his eyes glistening

and brimming with emotion. He took steps forward, and stood beside her. He ran his fingers down the tree of names. "That is Thror (he tapped his finger on the characters in emphasis). Down here, is his son, Thrain. He, like his father, succumbed to a sort of...madness. And this…(he took Hana's right index finger and made her point to it as well) reads Thorin, son of Thrain," he said seriously. "Which makes him the next King Under the Mountain, King of Durin's folk." He let go of her hand. Hana did not move it. She looked at the parchment, mystified.

"He's a king. The king of our people, the Dwarves." Hana stood silently, taking in what Balin had just said, replaying it in her head. "What?" she asked, not wanting it repeated as much as she tried to make sense of this revelation. Her tone was sharp. Thorin was a king? What?! No, no…surely there must be a mistake. He waited a moment before answering.

"You heard me correctly. He is King of Erebor. (Balin licked then pursed his lips, his face emotive and conflicted, as if he were suffering from an intense headache). But long exiled, driven out forcefully after the firedrake, Smaug attacked us. Thorin got as many of us as he could to safety. We had never experienced such an attack before, and were completely unprepared. So many lives were lost. Those who survived….have been in hiding ever since." He looked up at Hana, who tried keeping her feelings under control. She was flabbergasted.

"He has mentioned the dragon attack to me before. But...he," her breath was shaky, "he managed to overlook this new detail when telling the story." Her eyes were wide, searching the floor as she shook her head with disbelief.

"He is stubborn. Maddeningly so, there's no denying that. But…(Balin heaved a thoughtful sigh) there are few braver or more loyal than he. You will come to see that in time, lass." Balin glanced at Hana, bewildered, her mind racing.

She felt crushed by her emotions. Hana felt a sort of fear at learning his true identity. "Is honesty one of his qualities, Balin? If so, you just had a hard time convincing me of it. Did he ever intend to tell me this?" She walked a few steps away from Balin, her arms folded resolutely across her chest as she looked blankly ahead at the wall. He lied to me. He…he.. LIED to me. Then, without warning, she picked up one of her boots and hurled it angrily against the wall, fuming. Balin's eyes widened in alarm. "What else is he hiding? Has he got some secret family he plans to return to?" Hana panted from shouting and contemplated throwing her other boot. An uncomfortable silence passed over the next moment. She noticed this slight pause and faced him, as she awaited his answer. Balin carefully rolled the parchment up and tucked it back into his cloak. He eyed her warily, paused to see if it was safe to interject, then prudently replied. He licked his lips pensively.

"No, Hana. If you are referring to a wife and children, no. He has some blood relations who are still alive, two being his nephews. His father might be, but it is unlikely. He has a past…but I'll let him divulge that information to you." He finished with a curt nod. "I…I had better be going. I did not mean to upset you. I only meant to give you a clearer picture of what was going on. You have my – ourmost sincere gratitude, my dear. None of us could have done what you did for him." He touched Hana's right hand with his and squeezed it. "I do hope to see you again soon. Always…at your service." He bowed to her respectfully as he turned toward to the door into the late afternoon.

Hana looked at the closed door for a few minutes after Balin left. The King under the Mountain, he was. Did he care for her at all, even as an acquaintance? Why did I tell him about myself? Why did he tell me about himself, and manage to skip these major details? She racked her brain, furious with herself. He never cared a bit, you idiot. You overestimated his regard. He was using you, Hana told herself. She put on some water to boil and changed into a looser fitting shift. "Damn you, Thorin," she muttered as she started her fire. Then she burned her finger on the top log and shrieked. "DAMN YOU!" She yelled, shaking her hand to try and lessen the searing pain racking her fingers. Hana soaked the finger in some cool water, then drank her tea and ate a small meal, enough to hold her for a few hours. She had no more energy for work that evening. The sun had barely been set an hour before she washed up over a basin and collapsed into her bed, the hair around her face still damp as she had not bothered to fully dry her face. Exhaustion and anger were all she felt at that point. Light rain continued into the night, and Hana was asleep before she could curse him again.

Hana spent the next few days at work, busily grinding with the pestle, washing her clothes, scouring the woods for extracts to add to her stores. She took advantage of the weather, which remained cold but dry for almost a week since Balin visited her home. When she was hunting and searching in the forest, she was out from shortly after daybreak to late afternoon, about four o'clock. She trudged through the brush, turning over rocks, digging her fingers into the cold earth, scoping out the ravaged hollows of rotten tree trunks. She ventured to the banks of streams, even into the mountains on her pursuits. Her search yielded less than she hoped for, but she managed to harvest some lichens, mushrooms, and a small quantity of athelas. Hana managed to take some ochre yellow lichens in a patch of woods west of her hut, surrounded by table rock and ruins of an old menhir monument. They were a most advantageous find. Hana relied on her wit and weapons firstly as a defense, but was not above using toxins if the situation called for it. It was another survival tactic she had perfected because of her past. Hana spent her nights mending her trousers and dresses, which had tears in the hems and knees. During the long, quiet passing hours of the night she often thought about her father, and considered returning home. She wanted to see him again, while she was still alive and had the chance. But returning home would mean offering a difficult explanation for her fleeing, and apologies. Would he believe her? He would care where she was, and why she fled, even if no one else particularly did. Saeladan was a loving, warm father to Hana when he was present. He was gone for periods of time in her youth, starting when she was eight years old. He was gone sometimes for months at a time, but was always happy when they were reunited, and always brought her something from his travels, whether it was a small knife or a intricately designed, beautiful gilded belt. However displaced Hana felt among Elves in Rivendell, she never doubted his love for her. She decided she would, within the next two years, return to him, while she still had the chance, even though she was afraid to return.

On a rather overcast afternoon, returning from a reluctant venture into Eldfell, Hana was trudging through the carpet of dead leaves and brush into the woods, headed for home. She had gone into town for bread and rolled muslin for bandages. The walk back home, at about four in the afternoon, felt strange and ominous in some way, as if a storm was looming overhead. She kept her light pack slung over her shoulder as she strode, her right hand close to her belt, ready to draw her blade if she needed to. If there was one thing Hana learned a few times over the last year, it was to trust her gut instinct. The hiss of the wind through the tall, creaking conifers and the crunching of her soles on the ground were all she heard, save for the intermittent squawk of scolding crows.

As she came upon the clearing toward her hut, Hana felt a sense of warning in her chest, as if she were becoming rather short of breath. About two hundred yards from the door, she could not accurately see if it was ajar, but it certainly looked that way. As she ventured closer, she could see it was cracked open. Hana stopped walking, as not to alert the intruder to her presence, and gulped, then took a deep, pained breath. She paused a moment, and could hear the sound of intermittent banging and hammering as she moved in. Hana approached the door, knife drawn. She planned her blow ahead in her mind's eye, knowing one misstep could leave her dead. She gripped the cold hilt in her gloved right hand, inching closer to her door, hoping the sound of her steps would not give her away. The cold she felt through her gloves sent a shiver through her arm. She looked through the opening in the door and gasped. Hana lowered her blade, flustered and embarrassed. She rolled her eyes and breathed nervously, taken aback.

He was seated on the stool positioned behind the door, hammering into it meticulously. His mane was tied loosely down his back, and his grimy clothes looked like he had come from working in the forge, smeared. Hana gulped for breath, visibly shaken.

"What are you doing here, Thorin?" She demanded, putting the knife back into her belt, leaning in the doorframe. She would not look at him for several minutes, embarrassed for almost striking and angry at seeing him in front of her. Thorin hammered into the door about ten times, inspected the spot, then ten more. He frowned at it, and deliberately kept her waiting for a moment. Then he decided to answer her. "Something that should have been done a while ago," he said. "Did I not tell you how unsafe this was? It took barely a push." He glared at her as he spoke. Hana folded her arms across her chest. "Are you SCOLDING me?" She asked incredulously, her voice raised, eyes narrowed. He looked resolutely at the door, then raised his dark eyes at her. "No. I didn't come to scold you."

"You damn well better not be," Hana muttered under her breath, loud enough for Thorin to hear. Her arms remained folded. "Then why did you come here?" She demanded with a jerk of her head and shrug of her shoulders. Hana did not attempt to disguise her displeasure. Thorin put his tools down, shifted onto the floor and sat cross-legged, as he thought deeply. One hand was palm side down on the floor, one gestured clumsily at her as she gathered his thoughts. He took a few deep breaths before he answered her. Hana noticed a clean bandage around his healing leg. His color had improved and he looked much healthier.

"To offer a humble apology. To ask forgiveness for my shameful behavior from our last meeting. Please. I'm a horrendous patient...and...(he looked down at the floor, then back at her) I hate being helpless." He gave her time to reply, which she did not. He stood up and walked up to Hana, who would not look at him, but instead cast a pensive sidelong glance out the door. She thought him rather bold to be standing so close to her. "Is that all?" she muttered, finally looking at him after a moment amid a sigh. "No..." Thorin quietly. "I put that bolt on your door as a gesture of gratitude for saving my life. And...(he paused) because I want safety for you, most of all." Their eyes met, and she thought he appeared genuinely contrite. Maybe he was a good actor. He said nothing of what Balin had confided in her.

Hana slowly walked past Thorin and dropped her pack on the floor, then her cloak on top of it. She poured herself a drink of water from a small pitcher nearby, drank it, and then eyed him, defiant. "I don't need looking after, Thorin. I'm grown, I ... (she took another gulp of water) I can and DO take care of myself. I have been most of my life."

He glanced back at her as he heaved a slow breath, staring at her pensively, eyeing the marks of injury on her face. Injuries she had sustained on his account. Thorin nodded slowly, and reached for his tools. He put them in his knapsack.

"I know you can. But there may be a time, Hana….someday…you will need to let someone look after you. When you are sick. When you are old." His eyes were wells of concern, cast at her unflinchingly.

She held his stare. Hana did not answer for a few moments. She set the cup down and pulled the gloves off her cracked hands. "No. I won't, Thorin. I won't fool myself into thinking otherwise, relying on my family or someone else. Sooner or later, I will likely be left behind, either as a circumstance of death, migration or being discarded. I learned to fend for myself, and it is something I must do. It keeps me alive." Her expression was fatalistic and realistic at the same time.

The weight of her words reverberated in their ears for minutes after. Hana looked out at the floor, as Thorin watched her, then the floor, then the door. He suspired, drawing out his breath, and slung his bag over his shoulder. "The bolt on the door is simple to use, but secure. I can see…you have long been desiring my absence. I will take my leave now." He turned around slowly, paused as if readying a parting comment, and proceeded out into the woods.