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

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Thorin watched closely as the young woman trained. He had absolutely no doubt that Fili and Kili could train her—Dwalin and himself had trained them, and he trusted Dwalin's skill implicitly. She would never reach their proficiency with her weapons simply because, as a human, she would die of old age long before she had the same amount of years of practice that they did, but in time she should be able to wield her weapons passably.

His eyebrow raised a bit as she complained to the lads about repeatedly attempting to hit the bag and failing, and the dwarf king could not stop the slight chuckle of amusement as the scene reminded him of another trainee long ago.

"Why must I do it again?" a young Thorin whined after losing yet another sparring match against a noble dwarf's son. "I'll never be able to be as good with a sword as you, Grandfather!" He slumped down on the training bench in defeat.

Truth be told, most of the other dwarflings were bigger than he was. Though he was the son of Thrain and heir to the throne, all noble dwarflings were expected to train in the same training room in Erebor so that when they grew up, they would be able to defend each other in battle. The last line of defense to a king were the noblemen that surrounded him, and they, far more than any other dwarf in the whole of Erebor, needed to be masters of their skills lest their failure cost them their king's life.

Thror chuckled a bit to himself, before perching on the bench alongside the frustrated lad. He reached over and picked up a waterskin, before handing it to the sweaty dwarfling.

"Drink," he commanded. "You need to replace all that sweat you're losing." Thorin noticed he didn't answer the question, and looked at him with frustration.

"What does it matter?" he replied sourly. "I will never be as good as Balin with a sword, and that stupid dwarf Dwalin is far bigger than I am! I could never beat him with an axe! Or a sword!" Thorin leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

"I will never be a great warrior," he moaned. "I'm too small, and they're all better than I am!"

"Now that's enough," Thror chastised. "Thorin, look at me." The dejected young dwarfling slowly turned his head and faced him.

"Sit up with your shoulders back and your head high," the elder commanded. "You are a direct descendant of Durin himself. And no descendant of Durin ever ran away from a fight." He turned toward the young Dwalin, who was toweling himself off after winning yet another sparring match.

"Dwalin!" the dwarf king called. "Come here!" Thorin's eyes widened, before narrowing as he glared at his grandfather.

"Why him?" the dwarfling grumbled loudly, before leaning in to whisper. "You know I can't beat him!"

"That's precisely why I picked him," his grandfather stated bluntly. "If you can learn to defeat him, then you will have defeated every other dwarfling in this room." Thorin sent one last glare to his grandfather, before rising to his feet. He was dejected and intimidated by the much larger, burlier young dwarfling before him, but his grandfather was right. No Durin ever ran away from a challenge.

The young dwarfling fell onto the ground again and again and again. The young Dwalin had been told to not hesitate simply because Thorin was the king's grandson, merely to control his weapon and disarm him in such a way that, if the dwarfling weren't in control of his weapon, the young prince would be dead.

But then something extraordinary happened. Thorin began to win the match. With each defeat, more fire burned in his heart as he returned to the fight. Dwalin was certainly following the king's direction to give it all he had, and Thorin gave it right back. Where his feet had been clumsy before, they began to line up. Where his grip had slacked, it tightened. Where a blow was missed, it now began to block Dwalin's sword.

Every last shred of his training, every last bit of instruction ran through his head as he fought on. Other dwarflings began to cease their training to watch the pair, but the young prince paid them no mind. Soon the only clangs to be heard in the great training hall were that of Dwalin's sword and his own. Sweat dripped down his face and there was a fire in his eyes. In those moments, he became not Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror, but Durin I himself. Fearless, doubtless, strong and mighty warrior.

Suddenly, all was quiet. The young, small, thin dwarfling had his own sword across the much larger Dwalin's neck. As Thorin looked down at him, the young dwarfling started laughing. It was quiet at first, but grew louder and louder as it echoed through the hall. He called the match, before getting off the burly dwarfling and rising to his feet. The young dwarfling extended a hand to Dwalin, who took it firmly as he rose as well.

"I yield to the prince," Dwalin stated, before bowing in respect. As his eyes made contact with the blue eyes of his opponent, he grinned widely.

"And thank you, my lord and cousin, for giving me the fight of my life," he declared loudly. The young prince grinned, before nodding his head.

"No, thank you," he replied, deep respect in his gaze. "For fighting me as hard as you did." The burly young dwarf laughed.

"You didn't think I would go easy on you, did you?" he asked, feigning shock. "And risk losing face?"

"Now laddies, enough of that," Thror said sternly, though pride shone from his eyes as he looked at his grandson. "Back to training with you both!" The boys nodded, before looking at each other.

"Spar with me?" Dwalin asked, picking up an axe. The prince shrugged.

"Just don't go easy on me," he replied, a smile on his face as he picked a lighter axe from the rack. The burly young dwarf grinned.

"Never!" he cried as he entered the ring.

Thorin smiled fondly to himself as he glanced at the now grown up Dwalin sitting on his bedroll. The dwarf king had eventually grown into himself, and was now close to the same size as the former, as well as being far more skilled with a blade than his cousin and best friend. But Dwalin could still beat him with an axe easily, and unlike their childhood, the dwarf king no longer held a grudge about it.

His blue eyes turned once more to the young woman, who, under Kili's instruction, had finally hit the bag. Several arrows still missed, but he was rather impressed at how well she was responding to his training. The dwarf king knew that she had a good knack for aim, having seen the rocks she threw outside of Rivendell and observed her skills since then. Kili was being far gentler with her than he or Dwalin had with him, though still very stern, and Thorin could not help but notice that her confidence seemed to grow as a result.

She is soft-hearted and does not take criticism well, he noted. But she is also strong and willing to learn. Very impatient and headstrong though, just like Kili was.

"Remind you of someone?" Balin asked as he stood by the dwarf king, having finished his inventory of their supplies. Thorin glanced at him, both knowing who they were talking about.

"Aye," the dwarf king admitted, causing the white-hairded dwarf to smirk. "Kili was so impatient and headstrong." A chuckle sounded on the other side of him, and he looked over as Dwalin shook his head.

"Laddie, you're one to speak," he said, grinning. "I seem to remember a very impatient young dwarfling throwing a temper tantrum on Erebor's training floor." Thorin gave him a dry look as Balin chuckled as well, though he could not deny the truth in the burly dwarf's words.

"Aye," Dwalin said, before looking at the young woman as well. "But she will learn. Kili's a good teacher, and so is Fili." Thorin's gaze followed his.

"Aye," he agreed, "Fili I expect, as he has always been the more patient one. But Kili…I admit I was hesitant to allow him to train her, but he is doing well, it would seem." Balin nodded.

"Aye," the elder agreed, surprise in his tone. "I never thought I'd see the day that Kili was the patient one." He watched him closely as she shot the arrows, unable to believe how gently the young dwarf instructed her. Cirashala soon quit archery and began to train with her sword, and he turned toward the dwarf king.

"The inventory is done," he stated, changing the subject. Thorin nodded in approval.

"Good," he stated, looking at the dark, ominous forest around them.

"How are we doing on food?" he asked, turning toward Balin.

"We are fine on food," he replied. "We have more than enough to last us to Laketown." The dwarf king hummed.

"What about water?" he asked, eyeing the corked clay water bottles. Balin frowned.

"With the heat, everyone's been drinking more than they should, I think," he admitted, concern in his features. "We best ration the water as well, if we hope to reach Laketown before needing more."

"The lads won't like that," Dwalin stated even as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "Not in this blasted heat." Thorin looked at the group, before glancing north.

"Tell everyone that they get no more than one bottle of water a day," he ordered sternly. "If they do not, then they will not survive to the edge of this forest. We cannot drink the water here—at all." The other two dwarves nodded, and the dwarf king looked once more at the dark woods ahead. He was a warrior of the Line of Durin, and he could not help but feel that something was watching them in the shadows.

Perhaps it was his fear that they would cross paths with Thranduil, or simply a wariness that came from long years spent in the wild, he did not know. But one thing he did know—the day they left this miserable, foul forest could not come soon enough.

The sooner we leave this cursed forest, the better.

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A response to guest reviewer kaia- Yes, it does : ( I'm not 100% sure the depression itself is genetic but I know for certain that the anxiety is and the two are often comorbid (both at the same time) so it may be. Either way, it has a way of interfering with my brain when I try to write and I'm not hyperfocused on it : ( But I do what I can! At least I'm able to update TLBTM now, if not my novels! I will work on it as I can : ) And I plan to keep going! I am determined to finish this story to the end- it just takes time (and a willing brain to cooperate ; ) I'm glad you deem TLBTM as "re-readable"- that is high praise for an author (fan fic or real world ; ) Thank you!

Please review, favorite and follow! I'm so glad for all my readers!