I do not own any of the characters or The Hobbit (just the AU storyline and my OC). Those are the work of the esteemed and brilliant John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, and without his genius, this and many other fan fics would not be in existence.

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"Cira?" The young woman looked up from her bedroll into the smiling eyes of Bofur. He gestured toward the western part of their copse.

"The others are headin' into the east side of camp to visit the bushes," he informed her. "It would probably be best if ya head into the western side to do your-well, whatever you need to do." The young woman nodded, glad to be rid of her struggle to roll out the bothersome blankets with one hand. She stood to her feet, before realizing that the miner hadn't moved. Bofur cleared his throat awkwardly as he refused to look directly at her, and confusion entered her gaze.

"Lass, uh," he began slowly as he fidgeted with the sides of his tunic. "Be-because there may be an orc pack on our tail, we-we're visiting the bushes...in pairs." The last word was emphasized as he hesitantly looked at her, clearly wishing to be somewhere else. Realization dawned, and she shook her head.

"No," she said simply, but both Bofur and Bombur, who was behind him crouched by the fire, shook their heads.

"Lass," Bofur continued. "I'm already done with what I need to do, and- I won't look, but none of us want you or anyone else to leave the camp alone." Bombur nodded in agreement.

"Thorin's orders," the rotund dwarf added, before turning back to supper preparations. The young woman sighed in frustration as she closed her eyes, before looking directly at the miner.

"You won't look?" she asked, and he nodded.

"I give you my word, lass," he said as he nodded to her, and she saw truth in his eyes. Reluctantly, she nodded and picked up her pack.

The young woman followed the miner out of camp just far enough that her visit to the bushes would be concealed from both the campsite and the open meadows beyond the copse. The miner nodded to her, before retreating behind a large beech tree to allow her some privacy in her task.

Cirashala fumbled with the bandage on the splint for a moment, before resorting to using her teeth to aid her left hand in undoing the stubborn knot. Once it was loosened, she quickly unwrapped the still sore limb, which had greatly protested her attempts at grabbing Kili before she fell off the pony earlier that afternoon. Pain shot up her arm as she used both her right and left hand to aid her in her task, but the young woman gritted her teeth and fought through it as best she could.

Something inside the back of her mind kept screaming at her that it was a very bad idea to take the splint off this soon, but her desire for independence and her stubbornness at not wishing to be helpless quieted it very quickly.

I won't be helpless anymore. I have no desire to fall off any more ponies, that's for sure!

She quickly finished what she needed to do, before rounding the tree. Nodding to the miner, the pair made their way back to camp, the young woman's right limb out of sight as she tucked it inconspicuously behind the "skirt" of her tunic.

XXX

Ori sat writing in his journal as the fire crackled in front of them. The smell of beans, carrots, and squash permeated the camp as supper cooked.

The young scribe looked up from his task at the scene in front of him. Dwalin was sitting on a fallen log on the opposite side of the fire, scowling as he looked at the iron pot hanging over the flames.

"It'd be nice to have meat to go with those beans, rather than squash," the burly dwarf grumbled. A loud hush sounded by the scribe, and Ori didn't have to look to know it came from his elder brother.

"Quiet!" Dori whispered loudly, before looking around the copse of trees as though there was a terrible beast lurking just out of sight. "Beorn could be following us!" Nori snorted from his bedroll, earning a glare from the elder.

"You're as jumpy as a hare," the thief chuckled, shaking his head as he puffed on his pipe. "In Bilbo's house, you rolled your eyes at Oin's portents. And now, you're afraid of your own shadow!" The others chuckled as the still glaring Dori shook his head.

"I'm not afraid of my shadow, brother," he growled. "But even a halfwit knows to not say that word anywhere near Beorn's house!" This in turn elicited a glare from Dwalin as the older dwarf sat down. He opened his mouth to retort, but Thorin interjected before he could.

"Enough," the dwarf king stated firmly. He looked pointedly at Dori. "No one may have seen any sign of him since we left this morning, but I do not want to chance it. There will be no more talk of Beorn."

"Or meat," he finished, looking at Dwalin. "We will not speak of it until after we have left these lands and entered the forest." The burly dwarf nodded, grumbling under his breath, but made no further comment on the subject.

Ori turned back to his journal then. For several minutes, the only sounds that were heard in the clearing was the crackle of the campfire, the rustling of the leaves above as they danced in the cool evening breeze, and the scritch scritch of the quill on the parchment. Ori knew the tension was not simply due to the argument between Dwalin and his elder brother. The scribe could feel it radiating from everyone in the group as they thought about the skinchanger's dark words.

These lands are crawling with orcs, and their numbers are growing.

He was suddenly broken from his thoughts as a slight pair of worn black boots entered his vision.

XXX

"Ori?" Looking up, the scribe's gaze met Cirashala's.

"Might I see what you have so far?" she asked, and Ori nodded. With a smile, he gestured toward the empty space next to him and invited her to sit and look. The young woman noticed he seemed quite eager to share the contents of his journal, and she was quite curious herself as to what all was in it. Settling herself down beside him on the ground, she began to look in wonder at the many words and carefully drawn sketches as he turned the pages.

"That's the runic alphabet, isn't it?" Cirashala suddenly asked, pointing to a page full of words written in a very straight-lined, slightly geometric-looking script. Ori nodded, before looking at her curiously.

"Can you read them?" he asked quickly, and she shook her head, surprised at the sudden apprehensiveness in his tone.

"I can read and write the Shire letters if it's written in Westron," she said, staring intently at the runes on the page in front of her. Spotting what she knew to be G, thanks to Gandalf scratching it onto Bilbo's front door in both the book and the film, she pointed to the marking. "But I only know this rune. It's g, right?" Ori nodded.

"Aye, it is," he said, before looking at her again. "Are you sure you don't know the others?" The young woman shook her head again.

"Not well enough that I would be accurate," she said, looking up at the scribe. "I have a guess for some of the others, but I don't know them for sure. Can you read it to me?" Ori's eyes widened as he looked away, and the young woman was suddenly aware that the entire group of dwarves were staring hard at the pair.

"Eh, Cira," Ori began hesitantly as he looked back up at her. "I'm sorry, but...I can't read it to you." The young woman's brow furrowed in confusion, before realization suddenly hit her.

"It's in Khuzdul, isn't it?" she asked, her heart sinking a bit as she knew that dwarves were very serious about guarding their secret language from outsiders. Several of the dwarves' eyes widened in surprise, and Ori glanced nervously at Thorin. At a slight shake of his head, the scribe turned back toward her.

"Aye, it is," he said, his expression one of regret. "I'm sorry Cira, but I cannot read Khuzdul to you. It is forbidden to read it to those who are not dwarves, unless permission is granted by the king.

"If it's any consolation, I can't read it to Bilbo either," he added, glancing apologetically toward the hobbit. The young woman nodded in understanding.

"I was afraid of that," she said quietly. "I know how secretive dwarves are about it."

"And just how do you know that?" Dwalin asked as he stared at her. She lowered her gaze, sighing.

"Because I haven't really heard you speak it in front of me," she said quietly. "The few phrases I do know I picked up here and there, but it isn't much." She noticed the hobbit glance toward Thorin, before looking at Ori.

"But can't you translate it into Westron and read it to her that way?" he asked, still looking a bit confused at the whole thing. "I mean, I know dwarves are secretive and all, but you are writing about this quest, and she's been with us since Rivendell so I'm sure she knows most of what's in there anyway." The hobbit glanced again at Thorin, before continuing.

"There doesn't seem to be any harm in reading it aloud in Westron, is there?" Ori's eyes widened as though he hadn't thought about translating it first, before glancing at the dwarf king himself.

"Thorin?" he asked. Several pairs of questioning eyes turned toward the dwarf king. Thorin looked at Cirashala for a long minute, before his gaze turned back toward the scribe. Cirashala almost found herself holding her breath as she waited for his answer. After a few tense moments, Thorin nodded reluctantly. As Ori turned toward the page, the dwarf king cleared his throat, causing the scribe to look up again. Cirashala's eyes widened as she saw slight finger movements from the dwarf king's hand, which hung at his side almost out of her view.

Iglishmek- the dwarves' sign language. Thorin must be saying something to Ori that he doesn't want me to know- I wonder what it is.

Ori nodded, before turning toward the young woman. He began to read, and she quickly realized that his journal was indeed just that- he chronicled the day to day happenings of the company from the first meeting with the wizard in Ered Luin to the point where they were at now. His entries comprised of written word punctuated by various sketches and drawings of the places they've traveled, the animals they had seen, and the various foliage, rock formations, and landscapes they had passed through. The complexity of his work amazed her, as did his drawing skill.

She quickly noticed that he omitted anything to do with the Arkenstone and the secret door, and realized that Thorin's signs to Ori specifically told him not to mention those two things to her.

Of course- the entire success of their quest and the future security of the mountain depends on those two things, and though I travel with them, I wasn't offered nor did I sign a contract so I'm not technically a part of the company.

She also noticed there was no mention whatsoever of their brief encounter with the trolls, though she knew it had happened given how badly the group stunk like the troll cave after the fact and the fact that they had come to the troll cave in the first place. It didn't take much for her to figure out that it was a rather...embarrassing moment for all concerned, and that the lack of a mention in the journal was not a coincidence at all, judging by the looks passed around the group when Ori skipped the rainstorm and went straight toward the troll cave itself.

"How is it you can read and write?" Ori suddenly interjected, curiosity in his gaze. "Most dwarves can, and Bilbo has told me most hobbits can as well, but I haven't seen too many among men who can read and write, save for those who are doing very well for themselves and have enough gold to pay for a tutor." Her eyes widened slightly as her brain fought for an answer.

How do I tell them that all kids in my country are required to be educated in my world without actually telling them about my world?

"My family lived in many different places when I was growing up," she began slowly. Her gaze left the curious dwarf as she stared at her boots, memories of her childhood going through her mind. "We weren't rich- in fact, we were very poor and didn't have a lot of money at all. But they managed to find a few people who were willing to teach some of the children in a town to read and work with numbers. They were determined that they wouldn't raise stupid girls, and drove us very hard, especially me." Ori's eyes widened slightly.

"What about your brothers?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"I don't have any brothers," she said. "Just two younger sisters. That's all." Several pairs of eyes widened slightly, and she supposed that, with girls being more rare amongst dwarves than boys, they were very surprised she didn't have a brother at all.

"So these 'teachers' taught you to read?" Bilbo asked, and she nodded.

"They did teach me many things," she said. "But I was already reading by the time I was five years old, even before I was taught by someone other than my mother. I-I love books and learning, I always have, and I would read whatever I could get my hands on whenever I found the time." She gestured toward Ori's journal.

"I-I guess that's why I'm so curious about what it says," she said quietly. Ori nodded, smiling.

"I understand," he said. "I am the same way myself- my mother taught me to read and write, and I just kept finding new things to learn and read about. About drove Dori mad sometimes, I think." The last part was said in jest as he glanced toward the dwarf in question, but the young woman could clearly see the fondness for his elder brother in his gaze. The scribe turned back toward her.

"How well can you write?" he asked. "You said you know the Shire letters- do you know Westron letters too, like the men of Bree use?" Cirashala thought back to which one would best represent her alphabet, but realized that even the Shire letters were slightly different from hers, though she could easily read them.

"I-I can show you, if you have a spare piece of paper," she said. Ori nodded, before ripping out the back page of the journal and placing it on top of the rest. Dipping his quill in the small inkwell resting on the ground next to him, he turned and held it out to her.

The young woman reached out to take it, but just as she grasped the end where she needed to hold it to write, the scribe yanked it back.

"Cira, where is your splint?!" he cried out, gesturing toward her right hand. The young woman's eyes darted down, suddenly realizing her mistake.

I'm...right-handed...

At the scribe's shout, fifteen pairs of eyes suddenly landed on her-and her unbound broken hand.

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A response to guest reviewer Guest: You're welcome :)

A response to guest reviewer Amanda- Thank you :) Might I ask what you like about it? It helps me become a better writer if I know what I'm doing well and what I need to work on. Your review "Amazing as always" is wonderful, but knowing what I'm doing well would be quite helpful to me as well as being wonderful :)

A response to guest reviewer Kaia- I will do my best :)

Many thanks to all who review, favorite, and follow- you are all so wonderful :D :D :D