Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own The Hobbit.

Chapter 6: Hatred Wanes

There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other

–J. K. Rowling

"You...you chauvinistic jackass!"

Well, so much for getting along. Their new travelling companion had been with them for a week, and Thorin's relationship with her had grown steadily worse. Gemma LaRoche was absolutely infuriating.

"What is wrong now?" Gandalf asked, looking for all the world like an exhausted grandfather chastising two bickering siblings.

"Listen, Mr. King of the Hill," Gemma ignored Gandalf, whirling around to get right in Thorin's face. "I don't know what it's like in your world, but in my world women are equals, and I'm not going to put up with your repulsively bigoted attitude!"

"My attitude?! You have no manners and no respect!"

"I have manners," Gemma yelled at him, "I'm just not some reserved little woman who lets men push her around, because I'm a fucking twenty-first century American!" She stalked off towards the forest, but stopped at the edge of the tree line. "And as for respect, you'll get it when you earn it!" She stomped into the trees, grumbling, in a way that would almost be comical if Thorin wasn't so mad.

"What did you do?" Kili asked him. It just made Thorin even angrier; they'd only known her a week and his nephews were siding against him.

"We exchanged words... I called her a wench." Kili and Fili looked shocked.

"Uncle, you can't use those words," Fili implored, "they're archaic and misogynistic."

Thorin stared at him as if he had grown a second head. Fili shrunk back a bit. "I'm not really sure what that means, but that's what Gemma said."

That was the last straw for Thorin. He threw his hands in the air in exasperation, and stomped off in the opposite direction, grumbling to himself in Kuzdul. He didn't realize that he had mimicked Gemma's own reaction exactly.

Coming to a stop by the river's edge, Thorin found the rock he had occupied only minutes earlier, again taking a seat. Dusk had fallen and the mosquitoes flitted around his head, thankfully not bothering to try to bite his thick dwarvish skin. Thorin's mind inevitably delved into the events of the past week.

After that fateful morning when they found her (or, rather, she had found them), they had ridden on through the afternoon with no delays, making up for the extra time spent at the troll camp. The woman, who absolutely insisted that they not refer to her as Lady ("Seriously, just Gemma, or La Roche!"), rode with Gandalf in silence. When they finally set up camp for the night and were tucking into dinner, she stood and apologized to the company for her "unprofessional behaviour" that morning, claiming that she had simply been a "rollercoaster of emotions". Then, of course, Fili and Kili had asked what a rollercoaster was, completely sidetracking the conversation. Still, Thorin appreciated her apology, though it wasn't really an apology, per say. She had said it in such a matter-of-fact way that he could tell she was trying to save face and gain back some of her pride, while trying to smooth things over and start fresh with the company. It felt like something he would do, which somehow took away some of his suspicion and dislike of her, making it somewhat easier for him to tolerate the next topic of conversation; the story of their secret quest.

Balin, dramatic old dwarf that he was, told the story in glorified detail from the fall of Erebor, to the meeting at Bag End, and even up to the company's encounter with the mountain trolls.

Gemma was a good listener, nodding at the right moments and giving the storyteller her full attention. When Balin concluded the tale, there was a long pause, and then she said "So when you say dragon... you mean like the scales-and-wings kind of dragon, correct?"

The ever-helpful Bofur chimed in, "Aye, a huge fire-breathing monstrosity too." He snickered cheekily. "Think furnace with wings." Nori, who stood beside Bofur, gave him a sharp whack on the shoulder. Gemma went white as a ghost at the comment, but held up much better than Bilbo had.

"Right," she said with a slight grimace, "just making sure."

Thorin had thought she took the story remarkably well. In fact, he rather admired how she had handled this entire situation. Not that he would admit that, even to himself.

The next two days brought little excitement and a lot more rain. Gemma had taken on an attitude quite different from how she had been the first day. She was quiet, uncomplaining, and actually quite helpful. It wasn't until the fourth day that Thorin realized she had simply been trying to make up for her first impression and earn her keep. On the fourth day she started to become more comfortable and some of her personality started to show through her conciliatory persona. It was also the first day they had argued.

Her first night with the company, Thorin had decided that Gemma should assist Bombur with the cooking, ignoring her warning that she was an abysmal cook (she had cited "takeout" and "microwave dinners" as the cause of this, though, like half of the words that came out of her mouth, they made no sense to Thorin). It soon became apparent that he should have listened to her warning, and Bombur demoted Gemma to vegetable slicing duty. The cooking debacle had caused a minor argument itself, because the dwarves could not understand how a woman could possibly be such a horrible cook. So Gemma spent the next three evenings simply hacking away at vegetables with an oversized, machete-like knife. By the fourth night she had had enough, and was comfortable enough to voice her opinion.

Gemma had marched up to Thorin that night and requested to keep watch. Thorin denied the request, just as he had every night before. Gemma had been angry. She felt that he and the other dwarves had been giving her special treatment because she was a woman, which, to be honest, they had. "I realize you might not trust me enough to do the watch, even with a partner," she had said to him, "but at least let me help with carrying the firewood or anything other than chopping veggies. I have some skills, you know."

They had fought, both getting very worked up, but eventually he'd agreed that she could do more things around the camp. He wasn't very happy about it, but she was very persuasive.

After that, things just got worse. The two of them seemed to be able to fight about anything and everything, always seeming to hold opposing views; she had started a long argument about the horrible effects smoking tobacco had on one's health, and he had provoked a fight about the fact that she was constantly tapping her foot in the most annoying way. Sometimes it seemed as though they were purposely trying to get under each other's skin, and their dominance issues had blown out of proportion. Maybe it was the fact that both of them were too headstrong and tenacious to allow anything to be left alone when they thought they could do it better. Maybe it was the fact that they both just liked to lead rather than follow. Thorin didn't even remember what had started their argument earlier that evening by the river.

What really bothered him, however, was that the rest of the company had all been roped in by Gemma LaRoche. His nephews gravitated towards her almost immediately, attracted to her strangeness and rudeness and humour and, well, her. They, along with Bofur and Bilbo, were captivated by her fantastical stories from her world, which she told each night at the edge of the campfire, about computers and cartoons, World Wars and weapons of mass destruction, electricity and elevators, microwaves and movies and motorcycles. A well placed compliment about his cooking landed Gemma in Bombur's good books almost immediately, despite her being a completely feckless cook. Gandalf just seemed to like her for no reason at all, though he had no idea what they discussed while riding together. Even Dwalin seemed to be warming up to her. Thorin had seen Gemma teaching him some sort of fighting move, which involved smashing the heel of one's hand up into their enemy's nose. Dwalin had actually cracked a smile when he got the motion right, which, for Dwalin, was quite the accomplishment on Gemma's part. The other dwarves seemed to appreciate her rude humour and the fact that she could chug a bottle of beer with no hands, a skill she'd picked up during her short time in "college", she'd claimed, not that Thorin knew what that was.

But, Mahal, Thorin just couldn't stand her. She was just so ... different from anything he had ever encountered. Every word from her mouth seemed to surprise him. He had no idea how to deal with her. He was just glad that he would be rid of her once they brought her to Gandalf's friend.
Thorin didn't realize it, but his pacing had turned to walking, and he had circled the camp through the forest, ending up closer to the direction Gemma had gone. It was for this reason that he heard the scream, loud enough to jolt him from his thoughts. Without thinking, he took off in the direction it had come from.

"Stupid dwarf..." she huffed. Gemma was so angry, and frustrated, and...ugh! She kicked the trunk of a large oak tree in an attempt to relieve some of her anger. All it did was make her foot hurt. A lot. She squeezed her hands into fists. God, this whole situation was so messed up. So frustrated was she, that she didn't hear the man come up behind her until he was on her. Her attacker pushed her up against a tree, covering her mouth before she could shriek. Recovering from her surprise, Gemma delivered a hard stomp to his foot. He didn't release her, but his grip loosened. It was enough, and Gemma spun around to follow through with a right hook to the jaw. The man dropped like a stone. When Gemma looked up though, she realised her attacker wasn't alone. Five other large men in dark masks stared back at her. Gemma had just enough time to scream for help before they swarmed her. The men pushed her up against the tree again, this time binding her hands around the trunk and with rope and tying her feet together.

No, no, this couldn't be happening. Her arms were stretched and immobilized. It felt just like… her vision shifted and blurred, and it took all Gemma's will power just to keep her mind from drifting away into nightmarish territories. The last thing she needed now was to be trapped in the throes of her broken mind.

"Feisty thin' aren' yeh?" the biggest one, presumably the leader, said. "Malcolm, check on Davis, eh?" One of the men nodded and went to their fallen comrade. "Now, let's 'ave a look in them pockets, darlin'. Got anythin' pretty?" Muggers, lovely, Gemma thought. The men pulled at her clothes, grabbed her gun, phone, and certain body parts that she did not want touched. "Guess not. Don' know wha' these thin's are. But you's a pretty thin' yourself, tha' for sure."

Oh please let someone come, she prayed.

Thorin crashed through the forest, finally coming to the horrid scene. There was Gemma, pushed up against a massive oak tree with her hands and legs bound, four men groping her body. There was another man leaning over a sixth, who appeared to be unconscious. Thorin could only guess that was the work of Miss LaRoche, and the thought almost made him smile. Instead, he let out a roar and charged the men, Orcrist drawn. He whacked the first over the head with the hilt of his sword, swinging around to slice a second in the gut. From the corner of his eye, Thorin saw Gemma butted her head into another, who was distracted by Thorin's arrival. He stumbled back into Thorin's waiting blade. Another followed when Gemma braced her back against the tree and kicked him with both her legs, which were still bound together. The final one, the big leader, drew his own sword, and he a Thorin circled each other, waiting to strike. Neither one ever did, for Gemma had managed to work her hands free and threw herself at him, wrapping him in a sleeper hold. She drove her fingers into the pressure point at his neck while slowly lowering him to the ground, on which he slumped, unconscious.

Gemma fell on top of the mugger, feet still bound. Thorin was at her side in an instant, slicing the restraints and pulling her to her feet. They stared at each other, breathing heavily, neither knowing what to say. Finally, Gemma let out a strangled chuckle, which Thorin couldn't help but reciprocate.

"Thanks," Gemma said with a genuine smile, and Thorin returned that too.

"Let's head back," was all he said, and they started back to camp.

"You know, I still think you're a jerk," Gemma told him as they walked, and Thorin almost laughed. This little debacle hadn't changed the fact that she still infuriated him either, but he now saw that she was indeed a valuable asset. And, if he were truthful, they made a pretty good team, in a fight at least. Not at any other time. Still, he knew she felt it too.

He decided to simply answer with an incoherent "hmpf", and after that they continued their walk back in silence.

A/N:

So I saw BOTFA on New Year's Eve. While it did have some faults, I thought it was pretty awesome. Ever since, I've been writing up a storm. Thankfully it didn't conflict with anything I've planned, and I now have an entire outline for the rest of this story.

Thank you again for the lovely reviews, please keep them coming. They make my week. One reviewer mentioned the unsavoury language in the chapters. Guys, I barely ever swear in real life, honest. For some reason though, all my original characters can swear like sailors. I blame The Catcher in the Rye, which I have been reading throughout the process of writing this. Anyone who has read that fabulous novel knows that there's a curse word just about every other sentence.

I had a few guesses as to what Gemma's secret is, but none were close. Maybe secret isn't the right word. It's more like a problem; she's hiding something. Think less fantastical and more… terrible. I like to torture my OCs.