Staric, Steward of the Blue Mountains, sat with his stomach in knots in the dimly lit dining hall.

Twirling a strand of his orange-red hair, he sighed and strummed the fingers of his free hand upon the table at which he sat; waiting for news.

Torias, it had been reported, had vanished; gone without a word and, to investigate this, Staric had sent one of his pages to gather whatever information he could.

There was no relief to be felt, however, when the side door creaked open and the page stepped through, silent and with his head bowed.

"Well?" He demanded, sipping some wine from his goblet, "What have you to tell me?"

The page, his face hidden by a funny hat, replied softly: "Torias has, I'm afraid, left. He departed last night, actually."

Staric growled and violently threw his goblet at the page who quickly ducked it.

"He was to report back to me what he knew about Thorin Oakenshield before he departed!" Staric bellowed.

"B-begging your pardon sir," the page stammered, thumbing at his hat nervously, "But um it seems…well it was witnessed rather, that Torias was brought to Thorin's household the other night. After that, he left with no explanation, back to the Iron Hills."

Staric tensed, his eyes widening in horror, "Oh no," He breathed, slumping down into his chair, "Oh no, oh no, oh no!"

The page pressed his lips together and cleared his throat; "Yes," He confirmed, "It seems his…real reasons for being here were discovered by the king."

"King," Staric scoffed, "He's no king. Not any more."

The page gulped and pressed: "He does apparently have some muscle. I'm told that the local jeweler, the dwarf called Bul, helped apprehend Torias when Thorin grew suspicious of him."

Staric drew a finger across his thin moustache and sighed; "I've heard stories," He explained, "From some of the exiled dwarves that He was once an assassin. Have you heard the same?"

The page hesitated before offering a quick nod. "Feyd," He explained, "An elite group of assassins for hire that are said to be exquisitely trained in the art of espionage and murder. This…Bul character is said to be one the most deadly operatives to ever to hold the rank of captain."

Staric's heart quickened and his face went pale; "We must send word to Dain!" He announced, jumping to his feet, "We must ask for his help!"

The page, his head still down, fidgeted for a moment or so before saying very delicately: "Begging your pardon, but I fear it will do no good."

Staric's shoulders dropped and he stared confusedly at the page; "What do you mean?"

To the young dwarf lord's amazement, the page chuckled.

"Because," The page answered, his voice suddenly changing tone and accent, "When Torias arrives back in the Iron Hills, Dain will know doubt seek to mend the rift between himself and his blood relative. Especially when he realize Thorin has the loyalty of Feyd."

Removing the hat and letting his long, shining black hair fall loosely to his waist, Bul offered the terrified steward an oddly warm smile.

"Ye played yer hand as best ye could, boy," Bul explained, "But Thorin is wee bit more intelligent than ye realized. I'm sure ye know that now."

Staric whimpered and fell back into his chair; "W-where is the page? What have you done with him?" He demanded.

Bul, while still eyeing the other Dwarf cautiously, pounded the door behind and almost instantly, the door swung open and the real page stumbled through clothed only in his under garments and followed calmly by Boheeka and Thorin Oakenshield.

"My lord!" Staric gasped as his eyes bounced between the four that were before him.

"Aye," Bul pointed out as he handed the hat to Boheeka whom placed atop his own head, "It's best ye start pleading with Thorin. Right now."

The humiliated page flinched when Bul eyed him coldly; Jerking his head Bul ordered: "Go. Tell no one of what has occurred. If ye do…I will find ye!"

The page nodded and, without acknowledging his pale and frightened lord, hurried from the dining hall.

"How could you have attempted such a thing?" Thorin demanded calmly as he approached slowly, "Did I not promise some reward to you for giving my self and my people safe haven for now? Have I not done well by you? Have we not, since we arrived, brought in more profit for the Blue Mountains?"

Staric coughed and offered a feeble shrug that caused Thorin to sneer at him coldly; "I knew you were young and impulsive" He said through clenched teeth, "but I would have never expected you to commit the acts of a coward. What threat was I to you?"

"None!" Staric protested, "It…with you gone and only your sister remaining I~"

"My sister?" Thorin asked, his head leaning and his eyes narrowing, "What about her?"

Boheeka sucked in his breath sharply while Bul couldn't help but break into a surprised chuckle.

"I-uh-I wouldn't 'ave told 'im that bit o' information lad!" He exclaimed just as Thorin leapt over the table with a growl and with his hands outstretched.

Staric cried out as he and the chair he sat in were knocked flat against the cobble stone floor; Thorin's large hands finding grip about the thin throat of the young steward, whose struggle against the more experienced and older dwarf, proved useless.

"MY SISTER!?" Thorin growled savagely as spittle sprayed from his mouth and splattered the other dwarf's face, "WHAT ABOUT HER CHILD? WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE TO MY NEPHEW THEN?!"

Boheeka had bounded around the table and though he tried, he couldn't pry Thorin's strong hands from Staric's throat; looking over at Bul, whom stood observing the scenario with utter amusement, he spat: "Help me damn it!"

Frowning, Bul made his way over and took Thorin by the shoulders as he explained calmly: "If ye kill 'im now, ye know it will only cause an issue you aren't capable of dealin' with right now."

Thorin grunted and, after observing how blue Staric's face had become, let go of him roughly.

Coughing and gasping for breath, the young steward stumbled to his feet and when he'd found a stable balance his wild and tear filled eyes observed the three of them.

"You're banished!" He declared hoarsely, "Out! Out of Ered Luin! NOW!"

Thorin attempted to lunge at Staric once more, only to be strong armed by Boheeka then who commanded: "Wait! Remember what you have planned! Calm yourself my lord!"

Bul hummed, stroking the whiskers of his chin as he did. Discarding the stolen robes he'd taken from the page earlier, He came to stand between Thorin and Staric.

"Agreed," He said as he looked between the two, "Thorin ye've more 'n proved that ye are still a force to be reckoned with even without a throne and Staric…ordering us from the Blue Mountains would be most unwise at this point; As I said, Dain will not help ye now."

Clearing his throat several times and after readjusting his disheveled clothing, the young dwarf lord asked: "How can you be sure?"

"Because," Thorin explained, "I have sent a message to Dain this night. I warned him that further attempts to usurp my rightful claim to Erebor will not be tolerated. If he, from this night on, remains an ally…when we're ready to take it back, I've promised him a larger portion of the gold that lies in the halls of my kingdom!"

Staric scoffed and rolled his shoulders; "Let me guess," He said with snarky tone, "You will make me the same offer? Even so, why should I allow you to remain here? How do I know you do not, or have not already, planned some kind of retaliation?"

Jerking free of Boheeka's grasp, Thorin came within inches of the dwarf lords red face and explained:

"Yes," Thorin admitted, "I promise you a share of the gold in Erebor. I also expect and hope you realize that when Dain receives the message I've sent this night, No doubt he will be more than willing to prove he is loyalty to me. With his armies, if you should provoke it, I will force you to abdicate and thus I will make a new home for my people."

Staric sniffed, rubbed his aching throat, and nodded his comprehension.

"I see," He confessed softly, "But, if I might ask, how can I trust you? You did just try to throttle me…you know I tried, or rather, was planned to steal your throne. How do I know this isn't just a pretense? That even with all that you've just explained and promised, you still secretly plan to take over ruler ship of Ered Luin?"

Reaching into his cloak, Thorin brought a large purse into Staric's sight and shook it; the jingle of coins echoed within the dining hall and the steward's eyes widened.

"More will come," Thorin promised, "there is still the fortune that lies within the halls of my home. Behave yourself, and I will honor my word."

"I would take it," Boheeka explained when he noticed the dwarf lord hesitate, "You're refusal could set about something you-don't-want considering even your own people find Thorin very appealing and, rumor has it, they think him a more...mature leader than you."

After glaring angrily at Boheeka, Staric exhaled deeply and with a shaky hand took the purse; ignoring Bul's triumphant gaze.

"Let us, wipe the slate clean?" Thorin offered, "I think that would be best for everyone."

"Aye," Bul agreed, "But it should be said, now that ye know that we know what ye tried to pull, don't doubt fer a moment that I or my kinsman here won't be watching ye. Just in case."

With that, the three dwarves bowed individually, and left the young dwarf lord to his racing thoughts.