After all the heavy stuff of the last two chapters, here's a couple of missing moments from The Journal, dealing with entertainment on the road. The first part is set between chapter 15 and 16 of The Journal, the second part between chapter 33 and 34 and the third part takes place during the second part of chapter 34, after Dori has left Thorin to his thoughts.

Enjoy!

Chapter 11

Road Entertainment

The whole company was more at ease now. The days of rest had been good for all of us, I think. There were stories and songs on the road and I soon started to regret ever making mention of the game of I Spy, because Bofur and Kíli could keep that up for hours at a time. Not that I can really blame them. There was so much to spy that it was hard to run out of objects, although it remained a slight mystery to all of us how Bofur could be so sure that Fíli's spare socks were blue, since they were safely packed away in his luggage.

The Journal, Chapter 16: Acceptance?

There was such a thing as boredom on the road, Kate Andrews soon learned. Not that she wasn't dropping from exhaustion, saddle-sore and in most cases in a bad temper, each day. No, that wasn't the problem. Riding was a challenge in and out of itself, although she rather thought she had gotten the hang of it lately.

But when the novelty of learning how to ride had worn off, it had become clear all too soon that sitting in the saddle all day was nothing short of tedious, especially since her companions were so suspicious of her and hardly spoke to her at all. They rather occupied their time laughing and joking amongst themselves. After all, she was only here on a whim of the wizard. Days became weeks and Kate didn't think she had ever been so very bored before.

But that had been before Rivendell, before the troll incident and before she had sort-of accidentally saved Ori from a vicious warg. There was more acceptance now. Talking to her was suddenly allowed, although Kate rather doubted it was Thorin who had given the change his seal of approval; he hadn't spoken to her beyond the "could you pass me the stew." He spent his days at the head of the column, keeping mostly his own company. Whatever good qualities he may possess, she was convinced sociable wasn't anywhere on the list. It made her wonder why everyone here followed him so willingly when his social skills left a lot to be desired. So much for being allies.

'Kate, give me a hand here,' Kíli begged, effectively snapping Kate out of her pondering about Thorin's strange conduct. It was none of her business anyway.

So she turned in the saddle. 'Help with what?'

'I need something red,' he announced. 'And I have listed everything red I could possibly think of.'

Ah, I Spy again. She was starting to sincerely regret ever making mention of that silly game in the first place, but then, Bofur had rather insisted she told them what she used to do when on the road and in need of some form of occupation. That game was the first that had come to mind. Big mistake, that, because her companions – and maybe even friends? – had been playing it tirelessly ever since. Well, mostly Bofur and Kíli. They could keep it up from dawn till dusk – and if only that were a figure of speech – but they tended to rope others into it as well.

'My hair?' she offered half-heartedly, not really in the mood to throw herself into the game. Not that she had anything better to do, but she had never really liked the game back home, using it more as a last resort to stave off real boredom when all other options had been exhausted.

And if she was really honest with herself, grateful though she was for not being left to her own devices all the time, part of her was fearful. She didn't want to become involved. She wanted to go back home and that was all there was to say on the matter. Getting involved meant that things got complicated, well, even more complicated than they already were. Her life was messed up enough as it was already. Getting involved was not a good idea and yet it kept on happening regardless of her wishes on the matter. And these suddenly so very friendly dwarves weren't making it easy on her to keep to the side-lines.

Bofur shook his head. 'Not even close, lass.'

'That was my first idea,' Kíli admitted. No surprise there. She was riding right in front of him. On the other hand Bofur would never choose something so obvious.

'Bombur's beard,' she tried again.

'Ori's tunic,' Kíli chimed in. He hardly seemed to have listed everything red that he could think of – Ori's tunic was rather an obvious thing – he'd just been looking for an excuse to include her. And, come to think of that, he had been doing that a lot lately. And so had a lot of the others. That was still a novel thing, Kate found. Ori was giving her Khuzdul lessons, Dwalin was teaching her how to use a sword even though he indicated time and again that he thought it a waste of time and effort, Dori had offered to mend a tear in her cloak and Fíli and Kíli seemed to have embarked on a mission to engage her in conversation, stories and games.

And it rather bewildered her. It was not the fact that she was treated more as a member of the company in her own right rather than a useless wizard's tagalong that made her feel slightly uneasy. No, it was the abruptness of the changes that left her baffled. The only thing that she could think of that could justify it was her rescue of Ori and that had been more of an accidentally tripping down a rabbit hole and taking Ori down with her at the exact right moment than an intended rescue.

Dwarves, will I ever really understand what goes on inside those thick skulls? Kate didn't think so. But then, she didn't need to. If all went well, she'd be home in a couple of months. And the wizard had better keep his word. As things stood, Kate wasn't overly fond of him and her well of patience had the annoying tendency to run instantly dry in his vicinity. Pity she couldn't drag his arse in court for abduction. Now that made for a nice mental image.

Bofur shook his head. 'No.'

'Nori's pony,' Kíli went on. 'Or Glóin's hair. Or my socks.'

'Oh, your socks are red, are they?' Bofur asked interestedly. 'Can't see 'em.'

'You couldn't see Fíli's spare socks either,' Kate reminded him, remembering the long quest for guessing what blue object Bofur had in mind a few days previous. They'd been at it for two hours all together before he finally took pity on them.

'But I knew they were blue,' Bofur countered.

Kate saved herself the trouble of pointing out that wasn't the point of a game that was called I Spy, meaning he'd had to see it. She had explained that all two days past and it didn't seem to have made much of an impact. Like Óin, Bofur excelled at being selectively deaf.

'Fine,' she conceded. 'Ehm… Balin's blanket?'

Somewhere a little bit further down the column she could hear Dwalin groan. 'Maker have mercy.'

Two hours later Kate was just about ready to make the same plea when Bofur finally revealed that it were Kate's sunglasses, which of course she wasn't wearing at the time and were stuffed somewhere down her bag.

Road entertainment had been few and far in between, Kate observed, what with encountering stone giants, orcs, goblins, the bloody Defiler and talking eagles. The last couple of days had been an on-going whirlwind of activity and very little time to catch their breaths. The few moments of respite they were given were spent on catching up with the necessary sleep rather than wasted on idle talk and silly games.

It had been an emotional rollercoaster as well. Between agreeing to be friends with Thorin – and who did that, agreeing to be friends like it was a contract that was signed – finding out the reason for her presence here – really? – and gaining three brothers in one fell swoop – and how had that happened without her noticing? – there had not been exactly much time to think about more pleasant distractions, although heaven knew she was in need of some. But now they were at Beorn's, had enjoyed two nights of sleep and the privilege of good meals. It felt like she had found her footing a bit. Of course, Azog was still out there somewhere and they were going to take a different route than the one described in the book, so there was still plenty to worry about. It was just that after a long day of preparations and Kate felt ready to drop.

'Come sit over here with us!' Bombur invited.

Kate had been about to turn in for an early night, but it seemed like her friends had different ideas. She might as well join them. If they got to talking, it inevitably got loud, because dwarves generally didn't like whispering. Or maybe it was just for Óin's benefit that they were perpetually loud; how else would he hear what was going on around them?

'What's it tonight?' she asked, sitting herself down between Glóin and Balin.

'How about that book of yours?' Balin suggested.

Kate grimaced. 'It's in my pack, at the very bottom. Do you mind?' She knew she would if she were asked to retrieve it. And she wasn't sure she would be able to keep her eyes open; her eyelids were heavy enough already.

'Oh, that's all right,' Fíli said, mischievous grin well in place. 'I know a good story. You won't sleep a wink all night.'

'So, scary story then?' It took her all her self-control not to laugh. Scary stories she could handle. About ten years ago Jacko had gone through a phase where he really liked scaring people with gruesome stories and Kate had been his guinea pig of choice. And although her brother had been a good storyteller, his tales had mostly amused her. It were the scary movies that had her secretly inspecting the space between her bed and the floor, not the stories. There was however no need to share that particular detail.

'If you want to hide in your bedroll, we'll understand,' Kíli teased.

'Or behind our uncle,' Fíli helpfully. The wink he threw in for good measure was nothing short of suggestive.

Kate had to remind herself that exploding would gain her nothing. If anything, they might view that as confirmation and renew their efforts on behalf of the Get-Thorin-and-Kate-together-committee. If only she ignored it, the whole thing might die a silent death in the shadows of Mirkwood. And if she never heard from it again, it'd be too soon.

'If I need to hide, I think Bombur will suit my needs better,' she deflected. 'And I won't need to. Whatever you have, you'll have nothing on my brother.'

As expected, this was taken as the challenge as it was, making them forget about their less than subtle hints about her non-existent love life. 'You'll be begging for mercy before we're halfway through,' Fíli predicted.

Kate grinned. 'Bring it.' Their quest to scare the new girl would go south faster that they would realise.

The tale itself, told by Fíli and Kíli together, was about a dwarf called Fryr, who had the command over a small group of dwarves sent to sniff out a troll's lair. Once in the lair they found the troll itself dead as the proverbial doornail, but that was hardly the last of their trouble, as the cave sealed itself shut and left the dwarves with no way out, locked in with a creature they couldn't see, but that whispered to them and killed off the dwarves one by one until only three remained.

To her surprise Kate, although decidedly not scared, was certainly intrigued. Fíli and Kíli were gifted storytellers and especially the latter had a flair for the dramatic, what with the hand gestures and lowering his voice during the so-called scary parts. She certainly felt a lot less drowsy and quite a bit more alert as the tale unfolded.

'And so there were only three of them left,' Kíli narrated, taking over from his brother. 'They were with their backs against the wall and the voice had gone quiet once more. Fryr knew that his time was running out, but then, just as he was to speak words of encouragement to his companions, there was an almighty roar…'

'Where are my socks!'

Well, he got the part about the almighty roar absolutely right. On the other hand it spoiled the mood quicker than Kate could blink. Because of course this had nothing to do with the tale and everything to do with Nori, who had been on the other side of the house.

Kíli snapped right out of his role as storyteller. 'No, that wasn't it.'

That figures.

'What is this about?' Naturally it was Dori who demanded an explanation. He would be; he considered it his life's purpose to keep his brothers in line. And Nori was still a work in progress. 'There are people who are trying to sleep.'

'Someone stole my socks.' Nori had yet to lower his voice.

Kate tried and hopefully succeeded in looking as confused as the rest of them. Truth was of course that those socks hadn't gone and taken themselves for a walk. But then, neither were they gone. They were just at the very bottom of his pack, rolled into that spare blanket that she hadn't seen him use ever since they left the Shire. The weather hadn't been cold enough to warrant its use yet. Running from here to there and back again all day had provided her with the perfect opportunity to take the socks in question and hide them. True, she had been contemplating stealing them as payback for him trying to make off with some of her belongings in Rivendell, but she didn't have the guts for it after all. And this might even be better in the end.

'Seemed like the thief has finally been robbed himself,' Dwalin observed. He had never made a secret of not liking Nori. In fact, it was common knowledge. Ten to one that he had tried to rob Thorin once or something equally as criminal. 'Serves you right, laddie.'

Dwalin clearly wasn't the only one who felt like that, judging by the murmurs of agreement around the room. Even Thorin, whose face had seemingly been glued to the maps in front of him, looked up. Of course she could be mistaken – he was too far away from her to be certain – but Kate could have sworn she saw one corner of his mouth make a slightly upwards movement; as close as Thorin Oakenshield generally got to something akin to a smile. Oh, so he found this amusing as well?

Nori on the other hand was far from amused. 'I need them back.'

It only went downhill from there. Eventually Dori still chose Nori's side, declaring that the joke had gone on long enough and that whoever it was should give the stolen items back. When no one came forward to claim responsibility – and given that they were all as innocent as lambs, why would they? – Dori demanded that they all empty their packs to find the culprit that way.

Kate breathed a silent sigh of relief that she had decided against hiding them in her own luggage. So she obliged her adopted brother by emptying her pack, grumbling all the while about having to pack again. The others were doing much the same and she didn't want to stand out in any way. Nori was the sneaky type; he knew all the signs of a thief and a liar and he must know she still had a bone to pick with him over the Rivendell incident, even though that had been weeks ago.

'They're not here either,' she said, rather unnecessarily, when Dori came to inspect her. 'Sorry.'

Dori huffed, but nodded. 'I did not think you had them.'

Oh, so she was above suspicion now, was she? 'I hope you find them,' she said. That was not even a lie. She did hope the elusive socks would be found, preferably with quite a few people watching. It'd make Nori look a bit like a fool. Undoubtedly that would dent his ego some, but he could do with a bit of humility either way.

'Do you require help?'

Kate looked up to see Thorin, sitting on his own bedroll only a few metres away. She hadn't realised he slept so nearby. For some reason that made her just the tiniest bit uncomfortable.

She squashed the feeling. 'How come you didn't have to turn your pack inside out like the rest of us?' she asked, jerking her head in the direction of his own luggage.

'There are some perks to being who I am,' he replied. It didn't take a genius to know that he obviously did not think there were a great many. Well, he wouldn't, not with the life he'd had, would he?

'So much for equal treatment,' she commented mockingly.

'I am offering my assistance,' Thorin pointed out. He acted on it, too, leaving his spot to retrieve a few of her shirts from the floor.

'So you are,' she agreed. 'Thanks for that by the way. Any luck with those maps?' Changing the subject was what she had become good at. Besides, when did she talk about anything besides the quest with Thorin anyway? They weren't good at small talk. Well, Kate usually was, but small talk with Thorin? He never even seemed to participate in the campfire conversations. It was only very seldom that Fíli and Kíli had tempted him into singing a song or two with them. And if even they were having so much trouble coaxing their uncle into more sociable behaviour, Kate thought it better not to have too much hope.

'You seemed unsurprised by this turn of events,' he remarked, ignoring her comment altogether.

'It's not in the book, I can tell you that much,' she said. 'You should know.' He'd read it only a day ago.

'And yet you were unsurprised,' he persisted.

Shit, did he know? 'It was a matter of time, wasn't it?'

'Miss… Kate,' he began. He clearly wasn't used to using her first name, given his tendency to start with the Miss before realising he was supposed to call her something else now. And if Kate was really, really honest, there was something a bit endearing about being called Miss Kate. It sounded like he was somewhere between not being friends and being friends and was trying to find his balance.

She stopped that train of thought right away. Endearing? Since when did she find any aspect of this grumpy dwarf endearing? Good grief, Andrews, you should stop listening to what they're all saying. It's starting to drive you insane.

'Yes?'

'As a matter of interest, where are they?' It was a bit of a long shot, but he still seemed that tiniest bit amused.

Kate contemplated playing dumb for a bit longer, but then decided against it. 'At the bottom of his own pack, rolled into his spare blanket,' she confessed in a hushed tone of voice. Then, in an impulsive mischievous tone, she added: 'I can't wait for him to find that out.' She wasn't even sure why she did that, confiding in Thorin about a prank she pulled on Nori, but there she was. Well, it was what friends did, wasn't it? And they'd done so many new things lately that one more probably couldn't hurt.

'Dori will shout loud enough to bring down the roof,' Thorin predicted and wasn't that strange? No rebuke, no stern reminder that she'd had her fun and that she should be giving Nori a clue as to the whereabouts of his missing items of clothing? For a moment there she could almost be fooled into thinking she was with one of her friends at home. But then, she was with a friend, wasn't she? She just wasn't at home.

'That'd be the first time I'm looking forward to witnessing that,' she said. 'Bit of a shame about it interrupting the story, though, even though Nori's got impeccable timing, coinciding his mighty roar with the one in the tale.'

Thorin raised an eyebrow in what appeared to be curiosity. 'Which tale where they telling?' He must have heard his nephews' voices, but would have been too far away to make out the words.

'The one about Fryr and his men,' she replied. 'Kíli had just gotten to the part where there are only three of them left and they are about to hear an almighty roar when Nori started wailing like a banshee.'

The look on Thorin's face was now more puzzled than curious. 'A banshee?'

Kate shook her head. 'Never mind. Thanks,' she added when he handed her back her books so she could put them back with the rest of her luggage. 'Do you know how that story ends, by the way? I must admit I've gotten a bit curious.'

'The voice proclaimed that justice was done and then the cave was unsealed,' Thorin said. 'It later became known that the dead of the cave had all committed some hideous crime or other for which they had gone unpunished. The voice sought to rectify this.'

'A cautionary tale then, about which sins not to commit?' Kate guessed. Interesting idea, really.

Thorin nodded. 'It is.'

She still wondered about one thing, though. 'Who was the voice? The embodiment of justice?' Just like two nights before, when she'd been listening when he was playing the harp, this felt surreal. This, talking with Thorin about something that had nothing to do with the quest, it just didn't happen. Discussing books and stories was something she did with friends. Especially with Anna. They'd sit down with a cup of tea, pick a book and argue about it for hours on end.

Except Thorin most certainly wasn't Anna, she wasn't home and there wasn't a cup of tea in sight. But he was a friend now, wasn't he? She'd better start acting on it. But good grief, this is going to take some getting used to.

'You'd be better off asking Balin or Ori about it,' he replied, a bit evasive now.

'I'm not asking them, I'm asking you,' she pointed out. 'What do you think?'

Thorin hesitated, as if he somehow considered this a personal question, which Kate didn't think it was. 'I think it was the voice of the Maker,' he answered eventually. 'And that he took it upon himself to remove the children he made that didn't abide by the code he set them to live by.' He stood and nodded at her. 'Goodnight, Kate.'

It took her a couple of minutes to realise what had set him off so much, until she realised that, if he really viewed the story in that way, he didn't think he had done all he could to live by the code Mahal had set his children. I was wrong. He doesn't have an ego, he's got a guilt complex the size of Mirkwood dragging behind him. What for, though? Losing Erebor, losing so many of his kin? She made a mental note to ask Balin discreetly about which crimes the fictional dwarves had committed, so that maybe she could get some clue what had made Thorin turn into his usual taciturn self again. After all, she was just looking out for him now. That's what friends did, didn't they?

She kept mulling the tale over until another almighty roar snapped her out of it. A little distance away stood Dori, missing socks in hand, shouting at Nori for wasting everybody's time. The victim of the verbal assault for once wasn't shouting back, staring in bewilderment at his own socks, clearly at a loss as to how in Durin's name they would ever have ended up where they had, since he was so sure he hadn't touched that blanket in months.

It restored her good humour just a bit when she realised that the corner of Thorin's mouth was once again curling slightly upward.

Thorin would happily admit, even if only in the privacy of his own mind, that he was glad to see the back of Dori. It wasn't that he disliked him, but he was not overly fond of him either. And he surely didn't know what to make of his belief that he was in any romantic way interested in Kate Andrews. Permission to court, indeed. Had he not had such strong control over his own reactions, he might have snorted in derision. It was probably best for his continued health that he hadn't; Dori had a lot of strength in his fists that he liked to employ in the best interests of his family, whether they approved of it or not.

'Don't you think I've been doing quite enough singing for the day?' The subject of discussion was riding somewhere behind him, but her voice tended to rise as her annoyance did and for some reason unknown to Thorin she was really annoyed by her new friends' insistence she treat them to a couple of songs from her own world.

'Well, we've still got a few hours to go,' Nori reminded her. 'We need to keep entertained.'

He was behaving like his normal self again, although he kept casting suspicious looks at his companions from time to time, still trying to find out who had been responsible for hiding his socks. Strangely enough his gaze never lingered on Kate. As his adopted sister, she was perhaps above suspicion. And Kate hadn't let on she had anything to do with it whatsoever. There was a cunning streak there that was entirely undwarvish. It was a firm reminder that she was not like them, that she was different. Yes, they were friends, but that was all they would ever be. Dori must have suffered from sudden delusions to confront him like he had.

'Told you, not the company entertainer,' Kate sing-songed. 'It really only says advisor in my contract.'

'Balin would be happy to change it if you asked him.' Nori may not know that it was his own sister who had made him look like a fool only the night before, but to her it must surely feel like he was taking his revenge by making her look like a fool in turn. Thorin liked to think he was slowly getting the measure of this woman and she did not like to be at the centre of the attention, especially when she was asked to demonstrate skills she did not feel she had perfected. They had agreed to become friends and so he thought he was allowed to notice such things.

'Of course, I'm perfectly sure Thorin would be pleased to do anything you asked him.' It was hardly any surprise at all that it was Fíli who made this remark. Thorin did not appreciate being the one joked about. He'd been laughed at by too many to bear it even when it was done in good fun. Some of the sting never went away. It always reminded him of all those who had laughed at him, of all those who told him that no matter what he did, it would never be enough. He was a king in exile – and in truth, more a blacksmith than he had ever been a king – and could never rise to the glory of his ancestors. How could he, with both Khazad-dûm and Erebor lost to his people?

And even if he succeeded in reclaiming it, who was to say that he would not lose his mind to greed afterwards? He had read the book and it hadn't given him an easy moment since. True, there were distractions, but that was all they were. He didn't think his sister-sons knew what it meant to him that they had told the tale of Fryr and his companions to Kate, but if the Maker had a sense of humour, it must be a very twisted sense of humour indeed.

The advisor herself seemed blissfully oblivious of the parallels between The Hobbit and the story of Fryr, but Thorin was not so blessed. One of Fryr's companions had fallen prey to greed prior to setting out with Fryr, begrudging his peers what he owed them. And he had been struck down for it in that Cave of Judgement, as some scholars called it. In Kate's book, he himself fell prey to such an affliction and although his book self came to his senses, he still died in battle. Crime and punishment.

Kate's annoyance was steadily climbing up to the point where it started to resemble something closer to anger. 'Oh, for heaven's sake, give it a break, will you? Believe me, it is starting to get repetitive.'

She was right; it must have been going on for longer than Thorin had realised. He made a mental note to ask for how long exactly – he had the uncomfortable feeling that their delusions found their origins around the same time the elves had first made mention of it – and to see that they stopped. He would not have the quest undermined by suggestive remarks. None of them could afford to let their minds wander, not with what lay ahead.

'Just saying that he would probably do what you asked, seeing as how you are his advisor and all,' Fíli clarified. 'And his friend.'

'I'm sure,' Kate grumbled.

'Well then, how about that song?' Balin asked. 'We could do with more merriment along the way.'

For a few seconds nobody said anything. Thorin more or less assumed that Kate simply refused to open her mouth and win the argument by sheer determination and stubbornness. That would have been how Thorin preferred to cut off arguments that weren't going his way. It tended to work, although he couldn't say what exactly it was that put people off once he had decided to no longer waste his time trying to talk sense into contrary folk. Dís would know. So, for that matter, would Balin and Dwalin, if he were ever of a mind to ask them. Maybe even Kate would know, but her he wouldn't ask. If she were ever to tell him, it would come out during an argument. Despite their friendship, he doubted they would stop having those. They were still who they had always been, after all.

'Very well,' Kate gave in. 'You brought it on yourselves.'

'Brought what on ourselves?' Nori asked, sounding wary of her for the first time all day. Kate's threats of violence were generally considered laughable, but the other kind, the kind that involved verbal attacks, were things to treat with care. Contrary to popular belief, the advisor could hold her own. She'd gotten her own back yesterday, repaying Nori for trying to steal from her in Rivendell, lending credibility to the saying that revenge was a dish best eaten cold, because her victim still did not so much as suspect she was the one to blame. Now however he was on guard.

It took Thorin little to no imagination to picture the devious grin on her face as she started in on a new song: 'Old MacDonald had a farm…'

It took Thorin exactly one verse to solve the mystery of why Kate would consider this payback. It was the most inane song he ever had the bad fortune to hear. It was quite possibly more meant for small children rather than full-grown dwarves, dealing as it did with a man in possession of a farm and a load of animals who made ridiculous noises. Maker have mercy on me.

It took Kíli a verse and a half before he got the idea and threw himself into it with an enthusiasm he hadn't put on display since he was a young boy being presented with sweets on Durin's Day.

'Kate, what have you done?' Glóin lamented over the sound of Kíli's singing. Like Thorin, he must have realised that there was no chance Kíli was letting go of this at any time soon. It was the I Spy game all over again.

Looking around revealed that Kate was biting her lip and evidently had just realised the consequences of her mistake. 'I may have created a monster,' she admitted. For all the clever thinking she sometimes did, she still was very young and impulsive at times. It wasn't a side Thorin had seen a lot of these days, not since they had gone into the Misty Mountains. Much had changed in only a few days.

Kate's assessment of the situation was indeed spot on, because Kíli had embarked on a quest to find old MacDonald some more animals to own. But then, there were only so many animals to find on a farm before he ran out entirely and had to start over. And where would be the fun in that? Thorin knew Kíli too well. He wouldn't do that.

Having said that, he may have slightly underestimated Kíli's creativity in coming up with animals that could be found on a farm. Cats and dogs he could understand though – they ate mice and kept intruders away respectively – the mice on the other hand were more questionable, but he really drew the line at wolves.

Fortunately, so did Dwalin. 'That's enough, lad. No one keeps wolves on a farm.'

'No,' Fíli agreed. 'He did keep a wolf pup in his bedroom, though.'

Thorin remembered that. Apparently the beast had been abandoned by its mother for some reason and Kíli, endearing child that he was, had taken pity on it and taken it home. He must have sensed on some level that the adults in the house were hardly going to approve of his choice of pet and had kept it secret for a full two weeks – an impressive feat, all said – before it escaped and burst in on the family during supper. Thorin had taken it out into the wild and Kíli had cried for ours before he calmed down, but that had fortunately been the end of it.

'Do tell,' Kate urged, sounding just as eager for anything that wasn't that infernal song as Thorin felt.

It worked, although it certainly did not stop the song from getting stuck in his head for the days that followed. Kíli, being singularly unhelpful in this particular matter, kept on whistling it when he was bored so that by the time they encountered the elves, most dwarves was just about seriously contemplating gagging him.

(However, it wasn't until Kíli regaled the elves with all verses of old MacDonald and his farm that he gained a little appreciation for the tune, even if only because the elves seemed to find it just as vexing as Thorin himself had thought it at first.)

I haven't forgotten about your requests (one is in the works, although it'll take a bit of time), but this piece has been waiting to get done for a long time. I hope you liked it. As always, reviews would be much appreciated.