I do not own any of the characters or the Hobbit (just the AU storyline and my OC) those are the work of the esteemed and brilliant John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, and without his genius, this and many other fan fics would not be in existence.

Please review! I love getting them-they keep me encouraged J

Azog's scout came back to him, eyes wide even as the warg he was riding skidded to a halt.

"Master," he spoke, his features excited. "We have caught the scent."

The pale orc's mouth curved upward in an evil grin. Eyes glinting at the thought of his prize so near, he stared the scout down, his own warg beneath him trembling with excitement.

"The scent is of a dwarf and human woman," the scout continued, pointing back in the direction he came from. "And we heard a woman scream. It was faint, but it was clear. And Master- there are tracks."

The pale orc's eyes lit up, and he physically had to hold back his warg from charging on. She responded to the sharp kick of her master's boots to her ribs, stilling in her movements. He felt the excitement and thrill of the hunt just as much as the growling beast beneath him, but he knew that they needed to be stealthy in their movements, especially if there was a chance the wizard was with them.

The wizard. Azog's grip tightened on his mace as he thought of the wizard's fiery pinecones obstructing his pack's movements. He had no doubt that the blasted Istari had also called the eagles somehow, for they were often friends with those who did not serve the One. It was the wizard's fault that the head of Thorin Oakenshield did not sit upon a spike, and the skin of his ugly face did not adorn the giant orc's chest.

No, the pale orc thought to himself. Not just the wizard.

His thoughts drifted to the tiny creature that had stood his ground in front of the unconscious dwarf, preventing him from taking his prize. He had waited so many long years for the head of Thorin Oakenshield to be within his grasp, and that little…runt had kept him from finally achieving his goal. He suspected the creature to be a hobbit, having heard of the halflings but never seeing one up close before.

He knew dwarves- thick boots, strong limbs, and hair-lots of it. Not all of them had enormous beards, but they were definitely hairy folk. He had slain hundreds of them in his lifetime. And this creature had not a single hair on his chin. If it hadn't been for the bare, hairy feet and the oddly pointed ears, the pale orc might have mistaken the creature for a human child.

He knew halflings were weak. Their borders, unknown to them, were guarded by the Dunedain- the rangers of the north. They were formidable foes, and orcs had good cause to fear them. Azog did not, but he wasn't foolish when it came to the descendants of Numenor either. They would kill an orc with an arrow long before the orc saw them, and were some of the most skilled trackers in all of Middle-earth.

No, Azog knew his Master wished to remain secret for now, and as such he had avoided the land of the halflings, and the Dunedain that protected their borders that would surely report the sightings to the elvish filth. As he began to lead his pack in the direction of the scent, his mouth curled up once again.

Soon, he thought to himself. All the world will burn, and those accursed halflings will find that even the Dunedain cannot keep them safe. No one who opposes my Master will live to see another breath-not when the war starts. We will crush them-crush them all.

XXX

Kili approached the three dwarf bodies, noting that Cirashala had selectively placed the wood around and under the bodies, and used the water from one of the half broken barrels to wet the ground surrounding the bier in order to keep the fire from spreading beyond their control.

Unscrewing the cap of the bottle of oil, he poured it over the three, making certain that it hit the wood as well as their bodies. Little Mizimel was nestled into her mother's arms, head resting in between her parents. Kili's jaw clenched as he took in the shaven dwarf man, the remains of his once long beard lying on his still chest.

But the young prince could not reattach his beard, and so he carefully bent down, straightening it as much as he could to appear as though it still came out of his chin. Rising back to his feet, he fought down another cough as best as he could. Glancing toward Cirashala out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pile up a small amount of wood, preparing to start the fire.

As the bottle neared empty, the young prince stopped pouring. Moving toward the small pile of wood, he lowered himself to the ground as best as he was able, before pouring the last of the contents of the bottle on it. Reaching for the flint and steel that Cirashala had set aside, he began to strike quickly.

Cirashala watched as the sparks flew, and it only took a few seconds before the oil burst into flame. Kili began to lower himself to blow, but a sharp look and a cleared throat from the young woman had him freeze.

"Let me," she said, and the young dwarf heard the unexpected command in her voice. He opened his mouth to protest, but another watery cough made the words die in his throat. She wasted no time, blowing on the quickly rising flame until one of the longer branches caught fire, before his cough subsided.

The young prince reached out, grasping the end of the flaming torch. Slowly rising to his feet, he turned toward the young family, expression solemn. Swallowing thickly, the young dwarf began to recite the oath given to the fallen soldiers of Azanulbizar, the words not having been spoken in over a hundred years.

"Bitterly we burn you,

Yet there is no shame.

Forever we mourn you,

But you are not to blame.

Bravely you have fought,

Your deeds of great renown.

So long shall you burn,

With honor be forever bound."

Slowly the young prince lowered the torch to the edge of the bier, the flames quickly alighting the bodies. Tears formed at the edge of his dark eyes, and the young prince swallowed heavily as the flames reached Mizimel, a lone tear trickling down his cheek as he closed his eyes.

It should have never come to this, he thought to himself. She should have grown up safe in the Iron Hills with her kin, not slain at the hands of orcs seconds after her birth.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and the young dwarf looked up in surprise to see Cirashala next to him, her blue eyes damp with tears. She gave a reassuring pat, before lowering her hand and looking at the bier, now completely engulfed in flames.

"Gaubdukhima gagin yâkùlib Mahal," she whispered, tossing a small bundle of purple wildflowers on the bier.

Kili looked at her with wide eyes, not saying a word, before his gaze returned to the sight before them.

"Gaubdukhima gagin yâkùlib Mahal," he repeated softly. Cirashala looked down as she felt his hand gently grasp hers, before looking up at the dark haired prince, whose gaze was still on the bier. His eyes were sad and grieved, but there was a hidden strength behind his actions, and for the first time since she had met him, she truly saw the prince he was born to be.

But it was more than that. She saw the heart of one who had been wise enough to distract the stupid orc so she could get away. She saw the heart of one who cried out against the injustice these folk had suffered- folk he didn't even seem to know. She saw the heart of one who would sacrifice his own life to spare those who could no longer fight the indignity they suffered. Those…who could not pay him back in kind.

She saw the good heart within him once again, and knew that she had made the right choice in trusting the young dwarf- both with her life, and with her injuries. But she also trusted him with her friendship, which was far dearer to her than even her own life, especially after the many betrayals she had suffered growing up.

For the first time since her husband and children died, a slight glimmer of hope cut through her grief. It was very faint and far away, but it was there all the same. As she watched the tiny child burn, she fought back her tears. At the same time a weight she had been carrying for the past month on her shoulders had lessened. It was very slight, but it had.

As unbidden tears fell down her cheeks, she closed her eyes, before slowly grasping his hand as well.

XXX

As the company gathered their meager belongings, Balin approached the dwarf king.

"Thorin," he said quietly, casting a concerned glance at the still sleeping Fili. "Are you absolutely sure that he can be moved?" The dark haired dwarf nodded.

"Gandalf said as long as the eagles are very, very careful, he should be," Thorin replied, though he could not help but feel the slight apprehension at what they were about to do.

Having giant eagles snatch you up when you are unconscious and about to be killed is one thing. Voluntarily riding them hundreds of feet in the air was quite another matter entirely. And should Fili awaken while they were mid flight...the dwarf king's thoughts were broken as Balin spoke again, though he could not suppress the shudder that went through him.

"The lads will need their furs," the advisor remarked gently, gesturing towards the makeshift beds that Thorin and Fili had been using for the last 4 days. "It is bound to be very cold up there, especially for Bilbo." Thorin nodded, before turning toward the company, who were still gathered by the fire. Slowly approaching the group even as his own injuries throbbed, he cleared his throat.

"Gather your furs," Thorin commanded, catching some members of the company by surprise. Several pair of eyes turned towards him, a question in their gazes. Ori was the first to speak up.

"But, Thorin," he began nervously, pointing in Fili's general direction. "You need them more than we do." Several of the dwarves nodded in agreement.

"Aye," Gloin spoke up, gesturing toward Fili. "We are not the ones who are injured, and I would far rather be a bit cold than have that lad freezing." The dwarf king sighed.

"While I greatly appreciate the gesture, cousin," he began, "Fili cannot be wrapped up in all of your coats and furs while we fly down from here." Wide eyes greeted him, along with a few relieved sighs.

"What about the orc pack?" Dori asked, glancing worriedly at his youngest brother. "Won't they overtake us if the eagles take us back to the place where they picked us up?" Thorin shook his head.

"We are not going back there," he replied. "Gandalf said there is a place near a giant rock called the Carrock where we might take refuge. It is about 17 leagues from here on the Anduin, and hopefully we will arrive there before the orc pack can track us." Dori nodded, though his expression remained skeptical, and the dwarves moved to do as bidden.

Dwalin pulled the dwarf king aside, noticing that Fili's own coat had already been put on him, and Thorin's coat on top of that. Thorin glanced in his friend's eyes, noticing the thinly veiled concern.

"Wargs travel faster than you give them credit for," he said, his voice low. "And you know as well as I do that they may have already reached this…Carrock." Thorin sighed, before nodding.

"I know that," he said quietly. "But there is no other place to rest until we reach Esgaroth. And Fili desperately needs it." Dwalin's eyes softened very slightly, and if he hadn't been best friends with Thorin since they were lads, the dwarf king might not have noticed.

"You need your rest too, my friend," Dwalin said quietly, concern in his voice. "The lad isn't the only one injured, and you should put your coat back on as well. The lad can use my furs, if I can get the damn things back from our burglar." The last part was said with a wry look, and Thorin, if he were not grieving, would have had to bite back a chuckle.

"Bilbo!" he called out, causing the hobbit to approach the pair. Stern blue eyes met large brown ones. "I thank you greatly for offering your coat to my nephew as a pillow, and it will not be forgotten. However, he will not need it while we ride the eagles, so would you please give Dwalin his furs back?" Bilbo's eyes widened slightly in surprise, before wordlessly handing the burly dwarf his belongings.

As Dwalin moved towards the group gathering near the spot where they were originally dropped off 4 days prior, Thorin looked at Bilbo.

"Why did you look so surprised?" Thorin asked, his exhaustion plain even as his expression was slightly bewildered. "I never intended for you to keep his furs." Bilbo sighed, placing his hands in his pocket slightly as he looked at the company as well.

"You said please," was his response, the hobbit matter of fact as if he were commenting on the weather. "It is a bit unusual to hear that word from you." Glancing toward the dwarf king out of the corner of his eye, he noted with satisfaction the slightly sheepish look on Thorin's face, which was quickly replaced by the dwarf king's usual gruff demeanor.

"So I did," Thorin replied, also matter of factly. "I suggest you get your coat, Master Baggins. We will not wait for you." The dwarf king moved toward the group without another word, followed by the shivering hobbit.

As the two passed the grey wizard, a slight unbidden smile graced his lips.

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A response to guest reviewer Lette1685: I am glad it was worth it :) I am glad she isn't a sue. Not technically anyway- I did base her off a real person, so that may still end up qualifying as a slight sue. But it's nice to know that if she were still technically a sue that she's a rare good one :) No, she is not perfect at all- she has her strengths and her flaws, and I didn't sugarcoat anything as far as the person she's based off of.

A response to Ri-chan: Good :) She does, though she does know slightly more medical stuff than the average person would. However, she had studied some at university with that goal in mind before having her children, so that would make sense. She has mostly given advice. She has tried to do what she can, but she is limited. She is not experienced much with weapons, and she does have a few survival skills from growing up, but it's not like she can survive completely alone in the wilds of the Misty Mountains without a good knowledge and ability with a weapon. The dwarves do most of the physical work, because they're used to it and they're stronger than she is, and better trained weapons wise. She absolutely is well read on Middle-earth, but that only goes so far. I am glad you don't think she's a sue- that's 11 out of 11 people so far who all agree that she isn't :D which makes me happy :D

Thanks to all who review, favorite, and follow- I cannot believe the overwhelmingly positive response to my story :) You guys are the best! :D :D :D