"Why don't we sing?" Evie suggested, looking around the small fire with a slightly overenthusiastic grin. If the three of them were determined to maintain such somber expressions, she felt she would rather overdo it than play along. No one replied, but simply gazed into the fire like it had personally offended the entirety of the dwarven race. Evangeline couldn't help but be amused by their grim faces- they had no cause for them save that the night was cold and the journey ahead of them long. Telchar seemed in good enough spirits, but he claimed not to be of the singing sort.

"Come now," she pressed, shifting in her seat and inching closer to the fire. Songs were always best when sung around a fire, or at least hers were. Shire songs were meant for the light, be it from the sun or another source; although sometimes the song itself was the only source of cheer to be found. Those were the most important songs, or so she thought. "We are still close enough to Gondor that there is no danger in it. I have recently assisted in clearing these planes myself."

Her boast received no applause, although Thorin finally defended his silence and met her warm gaze over the dancing flames wavering between them.

"I know of no song which suits the occasion."

He had not sung in so very long, it was hard to remember any at all.

"Your people have no travelling songs?"

She insisted, and he offered no reply. The hobbit felt something pass between them nonetheless, and found she could not argue with the prince.

"We prefer to keep quiet when at camp, to avoid unwelcome visitors."

Dwalin announced, his deep voice cutting through the crackling flames and dampening even Evie's resolutely jubilant mood. She supposed he was referring to any other wanderers as well as disparaging her earlier comment about the safety of the planes, and she tried not to take it to heart. He seemed of a hard sort, and there was little one could do in the face of such disparagement but hope that in time their relations would improve. Perhaps he simply did not know her well enough yet.

"Most dwarf songs are about gold and the discovery of it, or of the great halls of the kings."

Telchar supplied, once again easing the conversation back into a more comfortable lull. Evie was grateful to Thorin for bringing him along- not only did Telchar seem to be more familiar with the Blue Mountains and their heritage than any of the others, perhaps even the hobbit who lived so close to them, but he was a soothing relief to Dwalin's stoic temperament and Thorin's single-minded quietude.

"I'll start… How about something cheerful?"

She suggested, and Thorin nodded, the corner of his mouth curling up in the slightest of ways at her boundless desire for merriment. Dwalin was silent; he was usually one for song but tonight he was of a mood. He harbored grave reservations about this hobbit and where she was leading them- and not just to the Blue Mountains. The warrior's trust had to be earned, and while Thorin seemed to have given his confidence all too quickly to the youthful blonde, Dwalin was not so easily won over. In fact, because of his friend's inexplicable intimacy with Evie he felt even more disinclined to favor her. He wanted what was best for his lifelong companion, and there was danger in a future with the likes of the hobbit.

"This is a good song for waiting… And I suppose that is what we are occupied in doing. Waiting for the sun to come up."

She mused, extending her hands before the fire to warm them, and then beginning her song.

"A cheer in your heart
and a hearth with a fire,
Whiling, whiling the hours away;
Peace in your soul
all the love you require,
Whiling, whiling the hours away.

Though we will grow old
and our bodies will tire,
Whiling, whiling the hours away;
Still we will live on
with our hopes and desires,
Whiling, whiling the hours away.

It is through our love
that we will be remembered,
Whiling, whiling the hours away;
Known for our joy and
easy in our tempers,
Whiling, whiling the hours away.

We will live on – forever and a day."

.

.

The next day passed uneventfully, in much the same way the first had. They rode forward mostly in silence, save for the occasional comment about the weather or the unknown possibilities of the Blue Mountains. Telchar enjoyed talk of that nature; he was by far the most confident about their endeavor to find a more permanent home for Durin's Folk. Thorin was the least enthusiastic, and Evie guessed it was because of his fear that they would not find a suitable place to live in Eriador. She had started to worry as well- what if she had suggested they go to the Blue Mountains only to discover that there were others already living there, or that such a residence was not proper for the dwarves? What if she led them all this way, journeyed for so long, and to no result? That was a disappointment they had committed to facing when they left Gondor, but Evangeline had cause to fear it most of all. She was the reason they had left, and she could be the reason they were forced to return to the city of men, with no promising news for their people.

And yet, worries and fears aside, the quartet of ponies marched on.

.

.

There was no singing at the campfire that evening, and Evie surrendered to tucking in early and letting her concerns fall prey to the comforting lull of dreamless sleep. She wrapped her blanket tight around herself, staving off the chilly night air and bundling her small frame up into a comfortable sort of nest. She sighed, closing her eyes and searching for slumber.

It did not come as easily as she had expected. Telchar snored loudly from where he slept a few feet away, curled up against a large rock as though it were a bedfellow. He snored much as Evie would have imagined a dwarf to snore- he expelled a hardy, rumbling, nearly constant noise which sounded more like a force of nature than a sentient sound. She screwed up her nose, turning over and trying to ignore the vexing distraction. She liked it quiet when she slept, and while she could only get so frustrated with her companion for his natural noisiness, it was interfering with her attempt to earn some peaceable rest.

Evie's sharp ears were able to catch another noise over the din of Telchar's incessant snoring, however, and she was offered an enthralling distraction from sleep. It was Dwalin's voice, just as booming as ever, although it was clear he was making a doomed attempt to be soft spoken.

"Thorin."

He called out the other dwarf's name. Thorin was on watch, and even though Evie was facing the opposite direction, she could safely assume that Dwalin had moved to stand beside his companion.

"Speak your mind."

Thorin offered, and the hobbit surmised by the tone of his voice that there was something about Dwalin's appearance which suggested he had a particular reason for approaching the prince and this was not simply a friendly conversation. Evie felt her body tense under her blanket- although she must have appeared asleep to them, she still felt that any movement she made would reveal her eavesdropping. She hadn't meant to do such a thing, to invade the privacy of the two friends, and yet she could not simply plug her ears and there was no possibility of turning and asking them to take their conversation somewhere more private… Hobbits naturally possessed splendid hearing, although it was often employed only in catching the latest gossip over their flowerbeds or garden walls. Evie felt like old Margorie Took, who could hear hobbits three holes away if they were talking about something secret. She was a little ashamed, but the indignity wore off just as soon as she realized what it was they were talking about, and paralyzing intrigue replaced the former feeling.

"You gave her a sword."

It seemed a simple enough statement, but Evie guessed there was much more to it than she could imagine. She was unacquainted with the customs of dwarves, but there was a severity to Dwalin's gruff voice which expressed all too clearly that the gift had been an impressive gesture.

"What of it?"

Came Thorin's tetchy reply, and Evangeline felt her heart stir in her chest. They were talking about her.

"You have… affection for the hobbit?"

It was hard for the blonde to decipher the tone of his voice- the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins combined with her lack of familiarity with the surly dwarf made it hard for her to guess at his meaning, but she surmised that his words carried both fear and derision. Her throbbing heart jumped into her throat, mercilessly pounding on her vocal chords like a war drum and making it hard for the frantic hobbit to breathe. Would he admit to such a thing, even if he did?

"You have always been a true friend to me, Dwalin, but this is no business of yours."

Evie was squeezing her fists together so tightly her nails cut into the palms of her hands. This was only augmented by her need to bite down on the insides of her cheeks to prevent herself from making a telling sound. Fear and exhilarating interest held her stuck to the spot, imitating a perilously tremulous statue. Thorin's statement held such grave finality; Evie was shocked to hear Dwalin's voice once more.

"You know I will follow you, wherever you go. Yet there are others who might not…"

It was not a threat, but a warning, and it gave voice to all of Evangeline's fears. This was the truth she understood, the one which kept them apart. It was not only finding a home or reclaiming Erebor which separated them, but the very nature of her race. She had known it all along, and yet it still stung to hear such tragic veracities cast into speech.

"They will follow me or they will go to another clan. They cannot choose their king."

Thorin's voice grated, his words harsh and stale even after they left his mouth. He despised himself for daring to speak them, yet he could not betray the truth he now realized.

"Their king may choose his bride."

Dwalin countered, his words clashing like steel against his friend's defenses.

"Yet you would select mine for me?"

The prince retorted, bitterness rising in each syllable. Evie had never heard him talk like that before, so certain and so severe, and definitely not to Dwalin. The hobbit's eyes were wide and eager as she strained to hear any more, but there was none. She was blind to whatever happened next, but Evangeline imagined Dwalin conceding defeat and returning to his sleeping space, for she heard a rustle in that direction.

Thorin Oakenshield let out a heavy sigh, his uneasy gaze falling on the troublesome hobbit, her curly golden hair flowing like treasure over the top of her blanket. Evie listened to the reigning silence, wondering what Thorin was thinking now and replaying the painful yet recklessly hopeful conversation in her mind as sleep eluded her longer still. She felt something burning in her gentle heart and realized it was the consciousness of her deep, sensible fear being overtaken by a chaotic, blissful hope which hijacked her rationality and unapologetically challenged all odds.

.

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Author's Note: Thank you so much for your comments and support! It really means a lot to me, and I love getting your feedback. The plot will be picking up a bit in the next couple chapters- I'm excited to share it with you! ;)