They had no idea what lengths he had just endured for them, did they? Weeks, days, hours, rummaging around, invisible in the dark. He was almost caught twice, he'll have them know it by the time they reached the Lonely Mountain.

"This way!" he whispered through the hushed dwarves. Down, down further, following the torches down into the cellars. The smell of wine and food wafted through to their desperate noses, but they passed on, quietly as they could.

Bilbo led them to the guards, who were sleeping overly sound, and then to the empty wine barrels. Asta understood the plan now, and was quite marked by Bilbo's genius.

"Get into the barrels."

"Are you mad?!"

All the while they argued, Asta slipped her feet into the barrel furthest from the dwarves, "Well, come on then!" she whispered with her head poking out. The company looked from her to Thorin.

"Do as he says!" and they all clambered into the barrels.

They were still wet and heavy with the smell of wine, making her stomach rumble. The wood was well cut and seemed strong, to her great relief.

There was commotion coming from the cells, and the guards drunken sleep was beginning to wane.

"What now?"

"Hold your breath." And Bilbo pulled the lever.

The barrels began to turn, and roll and Asta put herself further into the wooden structure. She knew what would happen now. She had known about the wine from Esgarath and how they ferried the empty barrels down the river to the mountain base and the town that stays there. One she had hoped to avoid. Terrible memories lived there. Memories she did not want to relive.

She heard the subsequent barrels fall and stabilizing herself she grabbed the next. They were all collecting at the bottom, counting when she heard, "Where's Bilbo?"

But not had someone said his name was he crashing into the water. She let go of the barrel behind her to see Thorin taking the lead, "Well done, Master Baggins." With a sure grin upon his renewed face.

The river was calm only for a moment, then they were quickly propelled down a small waterfall. A part of her wanted to sink into the barrel to the bottom, but as water pooled in the barrels, she saw that would be impossible. She gripped the edges of the top and let her body straighten, and was getting an understanding of absorbing the waves when a horn sounded.

'They're closing the gates.' Terrified she looked to the gate. A second horn came in answer, but was quickly cut off. Soon, like ants on a hill, orcs swarmed the gate, killing the Elvish guards, their bodies falling into the water surrounding the barrels now barred by the iron itself.

Soon chaos was upon them, orcs and elves thrashing about, slaying each other. Asta's barrel was thrown far from the gate by the rapids. Orcs descended upon them from above a place where she might jump to fight, and while she was searching, Kili had jumped up to the landing and had reached the lever. None of this had she seen. She only heard Fili yell his brother's name.

Kili was on the ground clutching at an arrow in his thigh, and while the dwarves panicked and tried to reach him, Tauriel had appeared, once again saving the Dwarvish Prince. This gave Kili the time he needed, and he managed through great pain, to reach the lever and set the barrels down the rapids again. He jumped back into his barrel, snapping the arrow along the side.

On they tumbled through the rapids, Asta's barrel taking on water, and then tipping over until all she could taste, smell, or hear was river water. Her head banged against the side of the barrel she could not seem to keep herself propped upon. Her mind rang and her senses rushed, and she had never felt so out of her depth.

Orcs and Elves now marred the river's edge on both sides, blood covering the once green algae and grey rock. Time and time again the Orcs tried to reach a Dwarf only to be swallowed by the river's swell, or caught by a weapon in Dwarf or Elf hands.

Again Asta attempted to find a way to stay upright in her holding, water dripping from her sopped head, between weak fingers and it only dashed her about further. She saw Bilbo clinging to the outside of a barrel and she tried to scream for him to get in, but before she could a rapid through her forward, filling her mouth.

Thorin was still leading the barrels and while the rapids took them away, he had the chance to impale an Orc, collecting his club only to pass it backwards down the line of dwarves until Fili who used it to knock an Orc's legs out from under him. Soon a swarm of orcs was attempting to reach the company via a log that had become a makeshift bridge. They stole an axe using the weapons they had accumulated to chop the tree down, sending dozens of Orcs to their death.

Asta had acquired a short sword and was hacking at an orc passing her side of the riverbank, to the best of her ability. Bombur had been thrown ashore and was wreaking havoc on land. This is when she saw the Elven Prince.

He hadn't come to her cell. She hadn't heard his voice in many years, seen him, or smelt him, but despite this, she knew him. Legolas jumped, landing on two dwarf heads, shooting orcs as he went, upon reaching land he demonstrated he had not slacked in training. He knocked an orc to the ground, rode him down a slope, jumped and span at the same time, killing two more.

Her heart leapt with pride for her adoptive brother, but that too quickly faded away. He reached a higher landing, he slayed two orcs, and engaged another when, from behind him, a fourth emerged; crude sabre reaching the sky. The sound in the world faded away for a moment, and time seemed to slow. She tried to scream, but no sound came out, and it was too late. Thorin's stolen axe had embedded itself into the orc's chest.

The two royals locked eyes as the dwarves further drifted down the river. Not once had he looked at Asta, and still the orcs followed them.

Upon reaching calmer waters, they paddled to shore. Asta had never been so grateful. She languished as she pulled herself out of her barrel. Sitting up she tossed her hair to her front from the side and started to ring the water out. The dwarves were doing the same when Thorin yelled loudly, "We keep moving!"

But Fili cried out, staying his uncle, "Kili's leg needs binding!" the fear and disbelief in his voice was evident.

"The Orcs are close behind. We can't stop."

"We have no way to cross the lake." Said Balin, respectfully but with serious haste.

Thorin looked at his company, battered, bruised, underfed, injured. They needed to compose themselves. "You have two minutes."

With that they set about their business. Asta hadn't been able to see them well in the dark of the cells. They looked horrible. Their clothing hanging a little looser off their bodies than she remembered, drenched and sunken.

Fili was with Oin, checking Kili's leg when she started for the forest's edge. She could feel the forest flow through her in greeting and leading her to her target. Finding the plant she was looking for, she immediately put it in her mouth, as she had done before. Walking out, she put it in her fingers, and marching to Kili, pushed the fabric from his trousers away, allowing her to put the plant deep in the wound. She hadn't been thinking and when Kili said, "Thank you Asta." With a sigh of relief, she was brought back to her new reality.

Her hands stopped moving, and her heart stopped beating. She looked at his wound, and only his wound, unable to do anything for a moment, until the air stiffened and tensed. Sensing a change in mood, she looked up, following the gazes of the dwarves. A Gondorian stood, face cast in shadow, with his back to her and a bow and arrow at the ready. Aiming at Ori.

She leapt from Kili who grabbed at her shirt sleeve, telling her to stop. When Asta stopped moving, he let go and stood up next to her. Dwalin had moved between the man and Ori, holding a bit of tree; driftwood, weak and dry driftwood.

Kili picked up a rock, and as he did the man shot at it, causing Kili to drop it and it was in this moment that Asta ran. She ran at the man, but his hands were swift, so soon he held another arrow knocked, this time pointed at her.

Her expression must have been mad, for the man did not tear his eyes from her for a single moment. She swore later, that he hadn't even blinked.

In her there was no reason or logic. That same blinding panic from the Goblin King's tunnels flew into her chest and she had become erratic.

No. She had just come back. No. He was her brother, and she could not suffer his loss along others that would nag in the silence, and too, she had only just recovered injuries that were painful beyond compare. No, this could not happen.

"You'll not hurt my brother." She managed to say through the tempest flaring inside her.

It was Balin's calm and diplomatic voice that eased the bowman's hand. Soon a price was negotiated, and they were on their way. Already ice discs were forming in the lake. Autumn was almost there. While the dwarves tried to gather the money they needed to pay the bargeman, Asta stood looking out into the mist.

She had hoped there was another way. In truth she had very rarely gone into the town; only when she had been too small to be left alone. Still, the thought brought her no joy. The small cottage they had lived in was far enough away that she was not on the mountain but not in the town. She couldn't see Erebor or Dain from her home. They had chosen seclusion as a form of safety.

Bilbo was telling everyone about the bargeman, his name being Bard, but Asta did not afford Gondorians much of her time, and she too tried to push this one from her. Instead she could hear the groans of Kili, see the pallor change in his face, and her heart ached. She hadn't expected the physical sensation of it all. Many times she had read of tragedies or lost loves describing the hurt afterwards. She hadn't known its painful truth. A hole opened there, and it felt like it grew every time she looked at him. So she put a leg on the side of the barge and set her mouth on her knee. It was momentary. It would pass. Or so she had read.

She stared until a small patch of fog shifted, just slightly and she could see it. The Lonely Mountain. She stood upright. They were so close and yet, they had no preparations, no weapons, and most importantly: very little time. The barge had gone silent as the company stood in awe of the mountain, but Bard had no time for the awe of dwarves.

The next thing she knew they were back in the barrels, having fish dumped on them, swimming up through a lavatory, being introduced to Bard's three children and getting warm by a fire. Asta was wearing one of Bard's daughters' nightdresses while her clothes dried. It was the first time she had been in a dress in many years, and it seemed this one needed replacing. Bard's family was not of money. Lake Town itself had seemingly fallen on harder times. The town had a heaviness to it that she did not remember.

She had been in a dream state since being beaten by fish and swimming up the lavatory. She was alert enough to danger, so she positioned herself near a window, but not directly looking out it. Children had been the cruelest of all, and while Bard's children seemed kindly, she knew she would not rest well here. When Bard dropped the pieces of equipment he had called "weapons" onto the table she had not been startled by the sound.

They were weapons in disguise. Bard had brought them from a hidden place in the under parts of his home. To Asta, this was a clear sign of tension in the town. To the company they were merely worthless. Their displeasure was not well disguised, and rightly so, but not to Bard's eyes. How were they to fight a dragon, if there was a dragon, with the tools of fishermen?

Bard left rather suddenly, Asta suspected after hearing the name of Thorin to go and inspect it. The dwarves were arguing about what their next action should be when he came to her. She continued to look out the window; despite knowing he was there.

"We're going to take from the armory."

Thorin set his back close to her shoulder, but she kept staring out the window. She felt the heat from his body in contrast the chill of the on coming autumn.

"Is that wise?" her voice was despondent, and emotionless, her mind being far too preoccupied to deal with emotions.

"It's our only choice."

She nodded. For him this place evoked the feeling of excitement, so close to their goal, but for her… he understood her hyper vigilance and he felt it in himself now too. They were not to be trusted.

"I know this is not easy for you." He paused looking at his hands, "So let's leave this place behind us, once and for all."

She looked at him now. Their time together in the cells had been brief, but she had felt something between them. A camaraderie, an understanding, perhaps a friendship built. It was intimate. He had shared with her folk tales and stories of Erebor, his grandfather, father and home. Times of his wandering across Middle Earth, and she had been patient and listened to him, asking questions when warranted and laughing when she pleased.

Now, when he approached her, she didn't have the same tension in her body, trying to seem proper or respectful. She didn't need to. She was comfortable, like a heavy blanket had been placed over her body. Safe, warm and happy.

To Thorin, this time had felt like only a moment, never had he felt such pleasure in plainly speaking to someone. Everyone treated him with a degree of distance. Some people took that distance quite literally. Balin had been the only one he had spoken openly to before her. And he let pour from him the culture he hoped to restore, spreading the tales of great dwarfs, their cities, and achievements. It gave him such joy to share these stories with her and when they talked of more personal matters she had an air of non-judgment about her, contrary to their time in the forest. For the first time in many years, he had let the persistent thought of Erebor escape him, and he felt free. He admitted to himself that he wanted that feeling to remain with him. The peace she brought him to remain with him.

In the time he had been thinking this, she had returned to gazing out the window, but she broke him from his thoughts, "I did not see Azog amongst the Orcs. Did you?"

He hadn't thought about it, Azog hadn't crossed his mind in a considerable amount of time, what with all the other obstacles he had been fighting.

"I did not."

"What would be so important as to detract him from you?" She tilted her head towards his shoulder and he could smell the clean clothes on her.

"I am not privy to the minds of Orcs," he stated, "I do believe you're the expert."

She rolled her eyes to look at him with a grin, "Perhaps it is so."

He smirked back and all the while a hobbit had been watching from a corner in the room.