CHAPTER 13

"Who sent you?"

"Your mother's sweet cu- gyaaahhh! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Stop!"

The sound of bone snapping does nothing to endear me to the thief turned assassin, Thomas. Dori holds the man in place, as Balin realigns one of his bones with each unsatisfactory answer that he gives to my questions. While extremely verbal, he refuses to give us anything of use. I find little joy in the act of torture... Even so it has its uses.

"I will ask you once more, and then I will cut off your hands." Drawing Deathless from its sheath I pause for Balin to position the struggling man's dominant hand. Placing the blade against his broken wrist, I add just enough pressure to pierce the skin there "Who sent you?"

"... Damn it... It... I... T-t-there was word... Going 'round. Anyone could accept the bounty and fulfill it."

"That" raising my sword as if it were guillotine, I watch Thomas's eyes widen with fear "does not answer my question."

"W-wait! Wait! It was a dwarf." My blade stops once more and the frightened fool rushes to continue "At least, that's what everyone was saying. Kill you and bring the proof for payment. They wanted your head removed from the throne."

It would make sense. This would not be the first attempt of another to usurp the throne. Though, the attempt has not occurred since my people were forced into Exile. What would any hope to gain from killing a kingdomless King? Better still, who?

"A name. Give me a name."

W-w-will you l-let us go if I d-do?"

I could spare him if need be. The rancid excuse of a man will never be asks to use his arm again, making him a perfect candidate to prove what happens to those who would think to harm us. Turning my gaze to the left, I sneer down at Bifur's captive. The blonde returns the expression with bared teeth. His skin is blotchy and pale from his ordeal but he oozes malice and ill-content. He shows no remorse for his actions or fear of any retribution.

"Your men here have perished, yourself and this one being the exception. You may attempt to barter for your own flesh, but I will not suffer the life of a rapist."

"Bah! I ain't rape that little tart. You'd a known if I had; tear her up real good." Tossing his head violently, the large man barks out a cruel laugh "I wouldn't have had to though. Travelin' with a bunch of filthy dwarve; she'd lay with a dog for a copper!"

"Morius, shut-"

"Oh shut your own trap, Thomas. You're jus afraid. But this dwarf scum ain't letting us go niether way, so I ain't sayin' shit."

"Found him!" Nori rides up the road with the sole escaped man attached to the tail end of his pony. Three other mounts trail behind him. He spurs the beasts fast enough that the man must run to keep up but not so quickly that he falls. Stopping near us, he tosses his captive beside Morius "He got further than I gave him credit for but I found our missing ponies."

"... A name, Thomas."

"... He-"

"Shut your mou-"

"Bifur, cut out his tongue."

The axe headed dwarrow wastes no time in following through with the order. Morius fights to keep his jaw closed but to no avail. The crack of a brown jaw sounds followed by the swine low grunts of pain. Free to work, Bifur reaches into the wet cavern and pulls out the porous appendage. With slow deliberate motions, the dwarf saws the offensive piece off. Gurgling and choking on his own blood, the man fights the arms around him as Bifur tosses his tongue at his feet. Giving a quick Command, I allow Oin to cauterize the wound, in case the fool thinks to bleed to death. Facing a shaken Thomas once more for a moment, I give my attention to the newly returned to man.

"The name of your employer."

"Oh, yes sir." this man is much younger than the rest. It would seem that his fear of what is going on around him has left him with a healthy dose of common sense "Not a problem. His name is-"

An arrow sinks into the chest of the escapee, killing him instantly. Leaping back, I find Morius and Thomas in similar states. Snarling in defensive anger, I quickly turn to find the Archer but the night is quiet. We did not hear him come and we did not hear him go. I stop Nori from giving chase, as whoever it was is no doubt long gone.

"Whoever sent them did not want to be identified. Scanning the trees, Oin frowns deeply "Yet if they could easily kill them to remain hidden..."

"Why not kill us as well..." The darkness is nothing to a dwarf but a competent enemy should not be given any opportunities. To be safe, I decide to give the order and move out "Let us leave this place and go find the others.

Holding my hands over my chest, I oversee the happenings within the camp. Fili and Kili have gone off with the intent of seeing to the ponies as ordered. Bofur and his kin attend to the evening meal. The rest indulge in rest while they can and wait for supper. Though I'd prefer more meat over the plethora of vegetables being poured in, there is little to be done of it. They will spoil faster than the dried meats, so we must use them first. There are more important things to focus on.

Setting my pack on the ground, I pull the map from it. Smoothing the parchment out upon the charred remains of what once was a stonewall, I examine the contents. Though I know the map as well as my own face, it still holds its secrets. Secrets that could easily prevent this quest's success. Sighing, I allow my eyes to flicker across the map in a search of some answer. The Gray Mountains, the Iron Hills, Esgaroth, the Greenwood... The Desolation of Smaug. Feeling a headache coming, I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes.

"Thorin... What of the girl?"

Dwalin's voice greets my ears alongside his foot falls, causing me to shut my eyes tighter for a moment. Have I not enough to deal with without the mystery of this child?

"You cannot ignore her for much longer, Thorin. Her mouth is shut like a clam; even her name is still unknown. Now is the time for choices. We have passed the weather top Hills and still have seen nothing of her team." Stepping into the dilapidated structure and past his brother, Balin huffs a heavy breath "Either they are very good or..."

"Or they do not exist."

I finish the thought easily, as it is not the first time it has crossed my mind. The Spy, if she can be called that, has given us little confirmation for that initial assumption. A spy must either be charismatic enough to gain information or be invisible, of which she is neither. Instead she is argumentative and defensive, though not incapable of defending herself to a degree. She is a puzzle that we do not have the luxury of time or resources to solve if she is not a threat to us.

"Explain her knowledge then? How does she know so much of what she should not?" The counterargument is a solid one, causing me to nod at Dwalin's point. She does know too much but at the same time, she displays no means to have obtained that information on her own. That confirms that she is not acting alone... Yet we have seen no evidence of that either "She may not be our true enemy, however she is no innocent. How do you explain it?"

"Perhaps she is an oracle?"

Standing in the archway of the building with a handful of twigs, The Hobbit shrugs lightly. His pudgy arms strain around the weight of the items he carries and he shifts them to get better leverage. We had not heard his approach and his sure-footedness is a bit concerning. Seeing that I am not going to respond to the half-wit Balin steps up instead.

"An oracle?"

"Why yes. An oracle. Farsight is not a gift found in hobbits. We'd find it a bit too fantastical for our liking anyway. Simple creatures we are. I have only heard of it in elves, though they are similar enough in form that I can not see why it couldn't happen in men. Dwarves though...Do dwarves... fear such things?" tilting his head to the side, the halfling frowns deeply before tossing his head in denial "No that cannot be right. I specifically remember Oin quoting portents of some sort."

"Seers are a rare and gentle breed, Master Baggins." smiling amicably, my cousin pats the hobbit gently on the shoulder "While the young Miss is surely a rarity in personality, she is not..."

"Well, no... She is not gentle." laughing nervously the hobbit rubs the back of his head before nearly dropping all of his twigs. I roll my eyes at his clumsiness, wondering how I could have gotten stuck with such a being "But I think knowing the future would harden even the most gentle of creature. If nothing else, she is scarred from the things she has seen."

"That is true..."

"So perhaps she is an oracle."

"Yes. Thank you, master Baggins. I am MOST sure that is so."

The reaction to his suggestion slips off my tongue with a tired attempt at mockery, yet it does give me pause. Though I am sure it is an utterly ridiculous notion, the gift of sight makes just as much sense as our other options. Sniffing in offense, the halfling departs our company but it is of little consequence now. While I do not doubt that are farseers exist, the odds of this... Petulant child being one is as laughable as her being a spy. And yet she is something...

"An oracle..." Scoffing out the word I turn my attention to the nameless girl as she stalks around the camp with her head bowed and her brow creased "The very idea..."

"It would explain the Wizard's desire to keep her close. Perhaps he saw something within her?"

"But an oracle, Balin?"

Following my gaze towards the girl, Balin lapses into a few minutes of silence, laughing softly as Bifur forces a bowl of soup into the redhead's hands. I expect her to make waste of it but she merely stands there, at a loss. It would seem that she has some measure of propriety ingrained in her and the ensuing battle offers a laugh to the company. Softly grinning at the girl before humming in thought, Balin turns back to the matter at hand.

"He shall have much to be asked when he returns."

"If he returns, brother. Wizards are flighty and unreliable at the best." Scowling into the night, the burly dwarrow clicks his tongue at the wandering girl as she suddenly stares off into the wood "And just what the hell is she looking for?"

"Trolls!"