Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is not my own, yadda yadda yadda. I'm not making any money off of this. (Though I wish I could.)

A/N: A much more light-hearted chapter that fills in some of the gap between the goblin caves and Beorn's. I feel like the orcs caught up way to quickly with Thorin and Co since the eagles flew with them all freakin night to Carrock, so I am using a little creative license to give them a bit of a break.

Our climb down Carrock was slow going. We were all exhausted beyond belief, most of us having only a few hours of sleep at best in the last three days. Add to that the fact that we all were injured, some, such as Thorin, much worse than others. I had not thought I fared too badly until Oin 'tsked' over me.

Once we reached the bottom and were finally on a level surface, Thorin called us to a halt.

"Gandalf has assured me we are a few days time ahead of the Orcs," His jaw worked, and I knew he was still reeling from coming face to face with an enemy he thought had died so long ago. "We can not continue on in the state that we are in. We will rest, at least, for this day and night."

Gloin, Bombur, and Balin plopped down where they stood. Kili and Dwalin, who both seemed to have suffered a little less abuse then the rest of us, offered to go hunt for a meal. Gandalf and Thorin wandered off into the distance, striking up a conversation.

Oin enlisted me as his aid, and slowly the two of us made our rounds within the company to ease what hurts we were able. Though we had lost much of our supplies in the goblin caves, thankfully Oin still had his 'first aid kit' on him, so we had herbs, bandages, and sutures a plenty.

Gloin was the only one who need stitches, as it turns out. He had a huge slice in his calf and he cursed loudly as Oin sutured it shut. It was mildly satisfying to know that he was complaining more then I had when Oin had taken care of my arm. The rest were covered with bruises and shallow cuts and scrapes, most of which would simply have to heal with time.

By mid-morning, we had looked over everyone, except for Thorin and Gandalf, who were still talking in soft tones, Oin made me sit in front of him.

"Alright, lassie. Take off your cloak and lets have a look at you," I grimaced and pulled the cloak off of my shoulders. After cleaning the worst of my injuries with some sort of liquid that burned like hell and binding my hand tightly, he sat back.

"You're a right mess," He said softly, looking from the cut on my cheek bone, to the large swelling bruise on my jaw line, down to the raw rope burns on my wrists. "But nothing looks too serious. Anything else?"

I hesitated, frowned, and then let out a long pained sigh.

"Yeah," I muttered. "The whip…"

Oin looked at me with a soft expression and he told me to turn around. I hesitantly did as he asked and leaned forward a little. Dear god, this was embarrassing. My ass was practically in his face. But he didn't seem to notice. He gasped loudly when he caught sight of the whip marks.

I turned to glance back the best I could at the wounds. On the back of each of my thighs, starting from the just above the back of my knee on the left, to just under my ass check on the right, was a ragged welt of broken skin. It was not terribly deep, but it was raw. The dark crusted blood and deep bruising contrasted with the paleness of my upper legs that did not often see the light of day.

"That's not so bad," I said, trying to play it off. Once again I was finding that when you finally acknowledge a wound, it suddenly hurt that much worse.

Oin rolled his eyes and shook his head at me.

"It'll heal, lass. But it will, more like than not, leave a scar."

I nodded my head, having figured as much.

Kili and Dwalin returned from their hunt with a few squirrels and a large turkey- looking bird. I was about to offer to help start processing them when I noticed Thorin and Gandalf walk back into our midst. I eyed Thorin and watched him carefully, noticing how tenderly he was stepping with his right leg, though he tried not to show it. I stopped mid-stride and turned myself to intercept Thorin.

He stopped when I came to stand in front of him, and he frowned deeply as he took in the bruise on my face. I reached out and took his arm firmly in my own. Thorin glanced at my hand and raised an eye brow before I began to tug him. He followed reluctantly as I lead him to a large rock on the ground.

"Sit," I pointed. "Oin and I haven't had a chance to look over your injuries."

"I am fine, Talya." He argued.

"Bullshit,"

"Talya…" He opened his mouth, about to argue again.

"Sit your ass down!" I said sternly and pointed down at the rock again.

He complied, a small wry smile playing on his lips. I sat down in front of him and, using one of the last bits of clean linen that Oin had in his pack dampened with what was apparently whiskey from a small flask. I set about cleaning the large gash on his jaw first. The second the alcohol touched his face, he cursed loudly.

"Cry-baby," I said, softly. He glared at me and I continued to clean his jaw. It could have used a few stitches, but I would leave that to Oin since I had never done them before. For awhile, we sat in silence as I cataloged his injuries. His right knee was badly bruised and swollen, and I understood now why he was favoring that leg.

The entire time, he had not taken his eyes off of me. I began to sweat under his scrutiny, and I cleared my throat. I went to stand, but this time, it was him who reached out. He softly brushed the bruise on my jaw with his fingers, a bare ghost of a touch and I froze.

"I find that I must apologize to you once again." He said, dropping his hand and looking down for a moment.

"For what?"

"For again doubting you," He answered. When I looked at him questioningly, he explained.

"Your bravery in the caves was admirable. Many would have crumbled when first the whip rent their flesh. More when the great oaf threatened to give them up as a prize to the Defiler. Lesser men, and aye, lesser dwarves have fallen in such circumstances. If I had any doubts left of you, they were erased in those caves when you faced the goblin horde as fiercely as any other in this company."

He fell quiet and I did not know how to answer. Thankfully, Bombur saved me from having to when he called us to our mid-day meal. Thorin turned to head towards camp.

"Hey… Thorin?" I said hesitantly, wondering if he would object to me addressing him so simply. He paused, but did not comment as he looked back at me.

"Yes, Talya?" He asked softly.

"I told you so." He frowned for a moment, then slowly a grin broke out on his face. It was infectious, and I felt a smirk of my own form. He shook his head, laughed out right, and walked back to me. He clapped a hand gently on my back and we walked together, the spark of a tentative friendship between us forming.

The moral of the company was greatly improved since our escape, but we were still subdued. It was too easy to imagine what would have happened if Gandalf had not shown. The fact that most of our supplies were now lost was worrying. As night fell, the tension crept back into the company. No one wanted to admit it, but, despite Gandalf's assurances that we were well away, we were still waiting with baited breath for the sound of wargs and the hell they would reign down on us.

The fire crackled, the smoke rising into the clear night. The moon was full above, casting a comforting light on us. We were uncharacteristically quiet, all of us deep in thought. I hated that I had lost my last few remnants from my home and it hurt to realize that, after only a few months here, I had begun to forget the faces of my friends at home. But, as I looked over the dwarves, the wizard, and the hobbit, I realized that, though I had been close with Andrews and a few others, this little rag-tag group had come to quickly become just as important to me.

We went to bed early that night, taking turns to watch out into the darkness. I had sat awake with Gandalf for the first shift, letting the others rest while my mind was still very much active. We spoke little, Gandalf and I. He had puffed slowly on his pipe most of the night, both of us looking out in the direction of Erebor. Though we could not see it through the trees, we knew it was there, and I felt a quiet longing fill me. I had, so many times, wanted to return to my world so badly. The longer I stayed here and the more firmly I became lodged in this reality, the more it occurred to me that, once this quest was over, if I survived, I had no where to go. The thought was unsettling.

We had woken Bifur and Bofur next, and I laid my head down on the cool ground near the fire. The soft crackling of the wood lulled me to sleep at long last.

The bustling of dwarves woke me and I groaned, sore as all hell. Everything hurt and that wasn't even an exaggeration. I groaned loudly and rolled over onto my stomach, hiding my face beneath the hood of my cloak.

"Why the fuck are you all being so noisy?" I complained loudly. I lifted a head and looked, bleary eyed, up at the sky. Dawn had risen a long while ago, and I was surprised that I had slept so long.

"Why the fuck did no one wake me up?" I asked, looking around as I sat up. I was the last one to rise, it seemed, as everyone else had already eaten and cleaned up.

"You are in a right foul mood," Bofur commented cheekily, walking past.

"You were too cute to wake up." Nori answered.

"That, and you growled as fiercely as a sleeping bear when ever one of us tried to wake you." Fili added cheerfully. He passed a water skin to me and I drank greedily, my mouth dry.

"Here," Kili said, coming up to me next with a food piled on a large piece of bark. "Eat up. Thorin wants us to head out before mid-day."

I ate, starving. Last nights dinner had done little to sate the hunger I had from our meager meals the past few days. Once I finished, I went and took care of my business, and came back to the group just as everyone was gathering.

There was a marked difference within the company that day. A tangible air of excitement now that their lost home was in sight, even though a great distance and many obstacles still remained. Even Thorin's mood was greatly improved. He smiled and laughed more then he had nearly the entire trip combined and seeing him so light hearted was refreshing.

We traveled the next four days slowly, the injuries of Thorin and myself in particular slowing us down. Each night, Oin soaked my whip-wounds with a linen bandage and a paste made of some god awful smelling plant. While it stunk like hell, the relief it brought was unbelievable. Each night, too, before we went to sleep, Oin and I would gang up on Thorin and make him prop his leg up with a wrap around his knee. Oin used a concoction of sweet smelling herbs to help fight the swelling there, and I had commented, loudly, how unfair it was that Thorin got to smell like flowers. Fili and Kili in particular found the comment hysterical and teased their uncle endlessly. He took it with much more grace than I thought possible.

The fourth night, I had drawn the short straw with Thorin for the midnight watch. I remembered, fondly, of how often we had argued over the late night shift amongst our platoon and laughed to myself when I realized that, even in Middle-Earth, everyone fought tooth and nail against the graveyard shift.

Thorin sat with his back against a tree, his leg stretched out in front with the wrap still in place. I sunk down next to him, wincing when the movement pulled at my now thoroughly bruised thighs.

"How do your injuries fair?" He asked, turning to look at me.

"I'll have to admit, I've been better." I answered. "You?"

"I will live," He replied, using a line I had spoken several times in the past few days whenever someone has asked me how I was doing.

We looked out into the wild and I shifted, trying to find a comfortable spot.

"Gandalf told me," Thorin said after awhile. I looked at him in askance.

"Told you what?"

"About how you came to be here. That you are not truly from this world."

That was not what I expected, and I swallowed hard.

"Is it true? Did the Gods bring you here to help us on this quest?"

I chewed my lip and wondered just how to answer him.

"Yeah, I guess. I didn't lie when I told you all before about how I would have died if Gandalf had not intervened. I don't know what the Valar saw in me, or why they brought me here," The last part was a lie, and I felt guilty. "But here I am all the same."

"Can you ever go back from whence you came?" He asked after a pause.

"No." Came my simple answer.

"Did you leave behind kin?"

"Friends, yes. Kin, no. My father was never really in the picture and I had no siblings. My grandparents helped my mother raise me on their farm. They died when I was thirteen or so and my mom passed when I was nineteen. I joined the army then, just to fill in the void left in my life."

"You had no husband, no children?"

He sounded surprised and I laughed dryly.

"No, no. Don't get me wrong. I have had boyfriends and I've always wanted kids. But I never really found anyone that I wanted to spend my life with. What about you?"

"Much the same. You were not wrong in your assessment of me when you called me bitter. I have spent many long years thinking angrily of all that was taken from my people and I, and the help that we were denied." He laughed sourly. "I did not spend much time dwelling on my loneliness or the eventual heirs my people would expect of me."

Thorin fell silent then, once he realized what he just admitted. As if to fill the silence, he took out the pipe that Gandalf had loaned him the day before and began to pack down a few pinches of dried leaves from a small pouch. He struck a match and, once his pipe was lit, put it out and began to puff. Knowing that this is about when he usually pulled away and became withdrawn, I leaned over and tugged the pipe out of his hand. I looked it over and then took a long drag off of it. I had tried cigarettes in the past, but had never found them to my liking. This was no different.

I gagged and coughed harshly. Thorin watched, then shook his head and, with a small smile, leaned over and patted me on the back.

"Oh, god, that's awful." I coughed out.

"It is an acquired taste," He admitted.

"Obviously. That tastes like shit." I spit off into the opposite direction of Thorin and he regarded me with an amused expression as I passed the pipe back to him.

"You have tried shit?" He asked. I realized that this was perhaps not an expression that translated across our cultures, and was about to explain when I caught the look on his face.

"Asshole." I shot back.

Then he did something I never expected.

With a teasing smile on his face, he leaned forward slightly and flipped me off.