Hobbit 1. A New Home

**Before I say anything else, please do not take this work too seriously. It is not my best, it was written late at night, and I am suffering from caffeine withdrawal. I know that there are most likely several inaccuracies, and I hope you will just enjoy the story for the sake of the story. Flames are not appreciated, but any other feedback is welcome. Please enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Walking quietly along the gentle rolling hills of the Shire, Mena breathed in gently, enjoying the change of pace from the bloodshed and constant state of fear she had become accustomed to. While she missed her home, she was glad she had made the decision to get her friends to safety first.

Their small farm on the northern border of Gondor had been burned down by orcs, but she had stayed to fight as best she could to buy time for her young comrades to escape on the three horses they owned. The four girls had lived together for several years, and none could remember how they came to be there.

An elderly ranger had found them alone and abandoned in the forest and had taken care of them until his passing five years ago, at which point Mena and Ismira were both thirteen. They took care of 6 year old Amy and 7 year old Tamina together, although Mena was the unofficial leader. Now Amy was 11 and Tamina 12, and Mena and Ismira were both 18.

When the raiding party of orcs attacked, Mena grabbed Amy and Tamina and threw them upon two of their three horses, commanding Ismira to mount the last and get them to safety. Mena took up the sword she had inherited from their late 'father', and stood between the escaping girls and the bloodthirsty creatures.

After the swift horses had carried the three to a far enough distance, Mena took her chance and bolted, relying upon swiftness of foot to save her. There was no way she could fight off the entire band of orcs, but she could outrun them, especially as daytime was nigh and they despised the light. Sure enough, as her footsteps flew across the ground, the pack fell farther and farther behind, until she could no longer hear the sounds of pursuit.

Ismira, Amy, and Tamina all rode for Minas Tirith as quickly as the horses could carry them, hoping to reach the city before night fell once again. Ismira worried for Mena, but she knew her first duty was to see the little ones safely to the city. The old ranger had enjoyed traveling, and he had a sister in the city who would most likely take them in, and in return they could work for her to earn their keep.

Mena, in her turn, chose to head farther north, to reach the land of the Halflings. Their adopted father had taken her several times over the years to visit one Belladonna Took, a good friend of his, albeit rather adventurous for a hobbit. They had met when he was still actively patrolling with the Rangers of the North, and formed a friendship. Mena had always loved visiting Belladonna and her young son, Bilbo, and even after Belladonna passed away, she had enjoyed traveling to visit Bilbo Baggins of Bag End.

Although her home was destroyed, Mena's heart was filled with joy that her little family was safe. What better time than now, then, to visit an old friend and perhaps stay for a while. Her emergency plan had always been for the others to flee to Gondor and stay with their father's sister, which is where she guessed Ismira had taken the others now. Mena did not wish to be a fourth mouth to feed, and so she decided to see if Bilbo would mind a guest for a few weeks.

She was broken out of her reminiscing when she saw a familiar round green door, and a small figure sitting before it smoking a pipe of Old Toby. "Bilbo Baggins!" Mena cried out joyfully, running forward to embrace the jovial hobbit, delighted to see her friend once again.

Mena had settled in to her new home with an ease only the friendly camaraderie with a hobbit can bring. Bilbo had been delighted to have company, unexpected as it was, and was more than willing to allow her to stay 'as long as you wish, of course!'. She had sent a letter to Ismira, and heard back that they missed her, but were happy with their new lodgings in the city as well.

As several weeks passed in bliss, Mena settled into a happy, peaceful existence, although she put on weight rather quickly eating at a hobbit's pace. She settled into a routine of going for a two hour run early every morning to keep in shape. It had taken her quite a while to convince Bilbo that skipping first breakfast was not going to starve her, and he had eventually acquiesced. However, he had told her in no uncertain that she should be back in time for second breakfast or he would give her fifth helpings for elevensies, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner, _and_ supper.

As she was already in excellent physical condition, her runs allowed her to cover a great deal of ground in the amount of time she was out, and she often ran southwards, stretching farther and farther each day. It was one such day that she came across a group of some of the most dangerous creatures in the land after orcs and the like. Slave traders.


	2. First Meeting

"Well, here we are!" Mena announced brightly, trying desperately to sound cheerful and not totally lost. She walked in the front door of Bilbo's home followed by a dirty mass of rags in chains. _What have I gotten myself into?_

When she had come across the traders not two hours earlier, she had initially wanted nothing more than to get away from them and pretend they did not exist. However, the leader stepped forward and hailed her loudly. Although she wanted nothing to do with them, she politely stepped forward and tried to say she was uninterested in any of their 'wares'. Then she saw _him_.

The dwarf was covered in filth and badly malnourished, being chained at both hand and foot. She could smell sweat, urine, and something unsettlingly similar to blood around the slave, and instantly she was overcome with a feeling of rage. "How much for that creature?" she asked in a tone of contempt, trying to make it seem as though she was disgusted by the dwarf rather than the _worms_ daring to enslave another sentient being.

The leader, a shifty looking wiry old man, stepped forward after giving the captive a kick. "Surely you do not want this one, my lady. Look at him, he is very dangerous and not well trained at all. We have much finer stock that my lady could look at. Perhaps this...?" She cut him off immediately. "I want the dwarf. Tell me his price or leave. I will take no other."

Trying not to show how frightened and disgusted by all this, she stared him straight in the eyes as though daring him to challenge her decision. He hesitated a moment, then bowed. "Of course, my lady. Men! Unchain the dwarf from the others and give the young lady her purchase." Turning back to Mena, he said with a toothy grin, " The price is merely 100 gold pieces my lady."

"You said so yourself he is trouble! Surely 100 is far too much. How about 50 gold pieces?" The man tilted his head, then grinned again. "Of course, I am sure that is more than fair. 50 it is." _Slimy worm knows full well that is more than most would pay for the dwarf, and not with no haggling. Still, if I can get the poor dwarf away from him, it is more than worth it. I hope this filth doesn't know a fake from a real gold coin. _She had another pastime in Bag End, and that was creating fake copies of a gold piece that she had taken with her when she fled her home. Now she pulled out her small purse and counted out the fake gold pieces for the slavers. _After all, I shouldn't feel guilty for cheating scum of the earth like this._

One of the other traders handed her the chain attached to the manacles at the dwarf's wrists, and the leader bowed once more, his sickening voice oozing fake sincerity. "May he serve you well, my lady. It was a pleasure doing business with you." She briefly nodded and then gave the chain a tug to hurry the dwarf back up to the north, eager to get as far away from those evil men as possible.

On the way back, the dwarf stumbled several times, seeming to have trouble walking at the swift pace Mena was trying to set with his feet in chains. She glanced at him apologetically, and slowed down once they were out of sight of the traders. An awkward silence settled over the pair, and Mena had no idea what to say to her new acquisition. _What will Bilbo say?_

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><p>They walked in the front door, and Bilbo came rushing up, all prepared to lecture her about being late for second breakfast, and didn't she know she had to eat properly or she could fall ill and die? However, the sight of the dwarf behind her drew him up short, and he was left at a total loss for words. "Bilbo... um... could you please set an extra plate for second breakfast? This is... actually, I didn't get his name, but he will be here to stay for a while. If that's ok that is! But please let him stay! I will explain everything, I just..." she trailed off at the incredulous look on the young hobbit's face.<p>

Although Bilbo was very tempted to begin questioning her immediately, the physical condition of the dwarf was enough to make him wait. "Of course, Mena. Why don't you show your... guest, to the bathroom so he can get cleaned up? I will look after the food." Nodding gratefully, Mena led the silent dwarf to the bathroom.

She glanced at the already full bathtub that always awaited her after a run, and silently thanked Bilbo in her head for the kindness. "Well, here it is I guess. Go ahead and take as long as you need." Then she glanced down and remembered the chains. "Oh!" she exclaimed, making the dwarf jump slightly. She pushed him to sit down, and quickly left the room, leaving the bemused dwarf sitting awkwardly in the chair beside the tub.

Hurrying back into the room with the lock-pick set in hand, she quickly knelt before the dwarf and took one of his feet, not noticing the incredulous look on his face. Making quick work of the first lock, she eased the manacle off his ankle, hissing at the sight of the bloodied and abused skin beneath. "However were you walking in this condition? You must have been in constant pain!" She glanced up at him, only to freeze at the look on his face. "What's wrong?"

He gave her an unreadable look, then replied in a hoarse voice, "Nothing, mistress." At this, Mena narrowed her eyes, but decided to wait until he was in better condition to argue with him. Moving to his other foot, she quickly had that freed as well, then held out her hand for his wrist. He hesitantly gave it to her, and she released both of his wrists from their bonds swiftly.

"All right, looks like you are good to go. Go ahead and get cleaned up, and take as long as you need. Breakfast can wait, Mr. ...? I am sorry, I have yet to learn your name."

Another immeasurable glance, then he replied bitterly, "I have no name, mistress, I am only a slave." She glared at that, and stalked toward him, causing him to draw back slightly. "Don't you ever say that!" she exclaimed, allowing her rage to take over momentarily. "You are not a slave! Slavery is wrong, and it should be banned! I know I participated in this horrible trade, but I wished to help you. And please, do not call me mistress. You are not my slave. My name is Mena. Will you please tell me yours?" She backed up a bit, once again in control, and waited curiously for his response.

The dwarf shot Mena another unreadable glance, then replied so softly she almost missed it. "Frerin. My name is Frerin."


	3. Decisions

As she walked the short distance back to the kitchen where the sounds of Bilbo cooking were clearly heard, Mena wondered what she could do with Frerin now. Perhaps he had family, a home he could return to? She would have to find out soon, and see if there was anything she could do to aid him. Of course, all thoughts of helping the dwarf were driven from her mind, when she was pounced on by a very confused hobbit.

"What were you thinking Mena?‼ A slave? How could you even think that this would be acceptable in any way? What do you think you are going to do with him?"

Flinching at the near verbal attack, Mena hesitated. "I just... I just wanted to help him, Bilbo. He was hurt, and they were starving him, and you should have seen his eyes! It's clear he has been through unspeakable horrors, but his eyes still had a spark of life. I wanted, I _needed_, to help him. Please, can he stay here? I want to help him find his home or family, if he has one, or give him a new home if he doesn't. I _never_ intended to keep him as a slave, nor would I ever keep any sentient being against their will. Please, please Bilbo?"

Bilbo sighed, wondering where the girl had learned to master that begging puppy-eyes look. "I suppose he can stay, my friend. I just wish you would be careful. If he chooses to lash out, I can do little to protect you, and he has a look of fire in his eyes. It may not be safe for you and I with him here. However, if you will be very careful, and give him no reason to harm you, he is welcome to stay as long as _he_ wishes."

Mena grinned, and nodded vigorously before tackling the hobbit in a tight hug that literally lifted him off of his feet. They both ended up landing on the floor, laughing and out of breath. Getting to his feet, Bilbo offered Mena a hand up, and they both headed to the kitchen to finish preparations on second, or in Mena's case, first breakfast.

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><p>A short time later, Bilbo's sizable table was full to bursting with all kinds of breakfast foods imaginable. The two friends sat talking quietly, waiting for their guest to finish cleaning up.<p>

"So where do you suppose he hails from, Bilbo? I really don't know much about dwarves. There was a kingdom in the Lonely Mountain, and another in the Iron Hills, right? Do you think he could be from Moria?" Bilbo shook his head slightly, confusion in his eyes. "I honestly have no idea. He could be from anywhere I suppose, although you would think his kin would have attempted to recover him from those slavers."

Mena furrowed her brow thoughtfully, wondering who could have willingly let a member of their family suffer such a fate. "Perhaps they perished?" she suggested quietly, thinking of her late father. "It would stand to reason that any kin or relation of his would have gladly ransomed or rescued him- if they were able.

That could also explain the despair in his eyes. Think about it, Bilbo. If you were sold as a slave, it would be extremely difficult, but if you knew your family were alive and safe somewhere, and simply unable to help you, you would still have hope. You would know that those you love are safe, and that's enough to keep you going."

They both lapsed into silence once again, thinking about what could have happened to the poor dwarf currently in the bathroom. Bilbo finally spoke once more, "Well, perhaps I should eat now. I know it is impolite, but I promised young farmer Maggot that I would stop by later today to help him picking mushrooms." Mena laughed at that, having long since learned of the zealous love for mushrooms shared by all hobbits.

Bilbo ate quickly, clearly eager to get to farmer Maggot's home, and smiled apologetically at Mena as he hurried to leave. "Oh!" he cried suddenly, remembering their guest. "I didn't think... Will you be alright here, by yourself with him?"

Mena nodded quickly and waved him along to keep moving out the door. "I will be fine! We will just have breakfast, and then I will see if our guest is willing to speak with me regarding his past. If not, I will show him to a guest room where he can rest and heal. Hopefully he can recover his strength quickly. We still have several healing salves in the third guest room that I can use on his wounds if he will permit me. You go along and enjoy your time with farmer Maggot. And the mushrooms of course." She added the last with a cheeky grin, at which Bilbo shook his head but smirked at as well, and then headed on his way.

Mena waved until her friend closed the door behind him, and then sighed somewhat worriedly. She had no concerns for her safety, she was no stranger to dangerous situations, but she was concerned about her dwarf. What if he was unwilling to trust her to help him heal? Some of the wounds she could see beneath the dirt and rags covering the dwarf had looked to be infected, and could become fatal if left unattended. Steeling herself, she collected some clothes that she hoped would fit Frerin for now, and headed to the bathroom.


	4. Frerin

Frerin had never been so confused in his life. He had felt terror, rage, helplessness, and betrayal throughout his time as a slave, but never had he felt so bemused. When he had seen the young human woman in the fields, he had thought nothing of her until she caught his eyes with her own. While her face betrayed nothing, he could read a turmoil of emotions roiling behind her gray-blue eyes. When the master called out to her, he could see her hesitate, looking toward him even as she reluctantly consented to look at the slaves for sale.

When she purchased him, he felt mildly confused, for the clothes she wore did not seem to be fine enough for the wealth she was so casually displaying. However, after a moment of study he could tell from the slight difference in size that they were fake. He held his breath, hoping the slavers did not realize it, and then was distracted when his chains were tugged harshly and he stumbled forward toward the girl.

As his new mistress set a swift pace to the north, Frerin wondered where she could live. What would a young human girl be doing out in the middle of nowhere by herself? Surely there should be someone to escort her? He contemplated overpowering her and escaping, but found himself deciding against it. His body, already severely weakened by the beatings he had endured, was further damaged from the slow-starvation the slavers had inflicted on all their victims. His feet and hands were bound with sturdy chains, and he knew that even if he did 'escape', he would be unable to get very far.

He found himself stumbling several times, pushing his body to its already strained limits to try to keep up with his mistress. Having no desire to try her anger so soon, he knew he could not withstand much more abuse. After the third time however, she finally seemed to notice, and turned to him. He flinched slightly, waiting for a blow or harsh words, but found an almost (apologetic?) smile. She actually apologized to him-a slave!

Frerin felt very curious, but was willing to remain silent, grateful for the easier pace. Shortly afterwards, the two were in a place of gentle rolling hills and little rivers. There were several strange creatures around, Frerin had read somewhere of creatures called 'hobbits' very like these, and he looked at them furtively from lowered eyes. Many of the hobbits called out greetings to his mistress, who returned them cheerfully by name.

Did she live here? He could see no men anywhere around. Why would a human girl be living amongst these hobbits. The town of Bree was somewhere nearby, he knew, but that had both men and hobbits living there. His mistress led the way up to a round green door in a very large hill, and led the way inside.

Upon entering his mistress' home, they were immediately greeted by yet another hobbit, who his mistress called 'Bilbo'. He could see the surprise in Bilbo at the sight of him, as well as some fear. Surely the hobbit did not think Frerin would be able to harm him? He was bound and weak, and the hobbit would be easily able to avoid him should he try to attack.

Listening to their conversation even as he took in his surroundings, he realized that this home belonged to Bilbo, and Mena was a permanent resident. As they continued to talk, he edged away slightly, wondering what they could possibly want with him. He had seen no other slaves on the way here, and it was clear from the set up of the house that the residents took care of themselves. What could Mena possibly want with something like him?

His thoughts were interrupted by his mistress taking him into a bathroom and telling him to take a bath. Instantly on guard, he wondered what kind of test this was. Slaves were not allowed to bathe indoors, and certainly not in the master's own bathroom. What should he do? His dilemma was temporarily forgotten as he was pushed into a chair. As he flinched and waited for a strike, he glanced up and saw the back of the girl as she rushed out the door.

Bewildered, he waited for merely seconds before she came rushing back in, only to kneel on the floor at his feet! He instantly wanted to protest, but before the words could come out she had taken hold of his ankle and was working at the lock on the manacles. Would he be released from his bonds? Why should they trust him? He had to hold back a moan of relief as the metal was finally removed from the abused skin, and he wondered at the angry hiss Mena let out on seeing his wounded ankle. Perhaps she was queasy at the sight of blood.

Her question threw him off even more. "However were you walking in this condition? You must have been in constant pain!" He simply stared at her, forgetting his place in his shock. Of course he was in constant pain! He had been in constant pain since the long distant battle at Azanulbizar, when his family had left him behind. Surely minor abrasions on his ankles were as nothing! She glanced up then, and froze when she saw him looking directly at her. He quickly dropped his gaze, hoping she was not angry, and replied to her query as of to what was wrong with a soft, "Nothing, mistress."

She seemed angered at his response, and he found himself tensing once again, wondering what he had said wrong. It seemed she had decided to ignore his offence for now, and quickly reached for his other foot.

If she was uneasy, she certainly did not show it again as she quickly divested him of the other half of the binding on his feet. Then, still kneeling, she held up one of her hands and looked at him expectantly. Hesitantly, he cautiously held out his bound wrists, hoping this was what she wanted. She did not seem displeased, merely smiling at him and then removing the bonds from his hands as well.

The pain was severe, but being now freed from his bonds he felt a small spark of hope in his chest. His new mistress did not seem to be the cruel type. Perhaps if he made no mistakes and served well, he would not be beaten to this point of weakness again. When she began to speak again, he missed the first half of what she said, but then she asked for his name.

He could not help it, he was so angry and lost he answered with the first thing that came to mind. "I have no name, mistress, I am only a slave." Her reaction to that was explosive. She shot up to her feet and began to yell, and he recoiled, surely he had pushed too far and now would be punished. Then he caught the gist of what she was saying. Not a slave? That would be laughable if it weren't so harsh. He had been wrong. His new mistress was cruel. She thought to taunt him with false promises of freedom and safety. Mahal, what had he done to deserve this?‼

She told him her name, Mena, which he already knew from her conversation with Bilbo, and then once again asked for his. Knowing he would be foolish to try her patience again, Frerin took a deep breath and then looked directly at her. "Frerin. My name is Frerin."


	5. Dark Memory

When he had told her his name, Mena had beamed as though he had just handed her the Arkenstone itself and then departed. He glanced around the bathroom once more. "These people are strange." he muttered softly in Khuzdul, eyes drawn to the steaming bath once again. Well, if he had the chance to bathe, he would not waste it, even if this was some strange test for him. He had been ordered to get clean, so he would get clean.

As he quickly stripped off his filthy rags, he groaned slightly at the pain in his back, legs, and ankles. The floggings had left deep stripes down his back, and the forced marching hadn't done his weakened legs any favors. Add in the sharp shooting pain from the chafing of the manacles and he was officially miserable. He climbed into the tub, then sank into the hot water with a barely muffled moan of sheer bliss.

The water soothed his muscles, and he could feel the knots begin to unwind as he lay back and enjoyed the sensation. As he relaxed slightly, he suddenly heard a shout from the other room and tensed up again. That had sounded like the hobbit, Bilbo. Why was he shouting at Mena? Frerin rose, beginning to depart from the tub, when he heard a reply from the girl that seemed to soothe the hobbit. Sinking back into the water, Frerin decided it was no concern of his, at least for now.

As he scrubbed himself clean with a brush that had been sitting nearby, he wondered what his place would be here. There was no possible way Mena had been serious when she said he would be freed. However, in no other way had she behaved like any of the other slave owners he had come across in his time. She had gone so far as to kneel on the floor just to release the bonds from his feet! In truth, Frerin didn't know what to think of this strange human girl who lived amongst hobbits and traveled great distances alone.

As he began to wash his once again golden hair, he allowed his mind to wander to his last days as a free dwarf, and a prince no less. He recalled very little of the fateful battle, only the aftermath, but he could vividly remember his brother's piercing blue eyes as he screamed out a battle cry at Frerin's side. After that, there was only the kill. The rush of orcs, and the thrill of fighting for his life. He cut down his enemies without fear, one after another, until the sword that came too fast to block, and he felt a piercing pain in his stomach. He vaguely remembered Thorin's voice shouting something, and then darkness.

When he had awoken, his armor and weapons were gone, and he was bound upon the ground in a clearing in a forest. A small, cowardly party of orcs had found his body upon the battlefield and dragged him away, choosing to flee with their prize. They had been close to eating him, when a caravan of slavers had come upon the clearing and attacked. The orcs were all slain, and Frerin was nursed back to health, only to be sold as slave as soon as he could stand.

The next five years had been a haze of different masters, each dissatisfied with their unruly slave and determined to beat his insubordination out of him. He had become weaker and weaker, and was near to giving in when his last master had finally sold him to the traders that had been traveling up north and sold him to Mena. He could only assume that his family thought him dead, although he couldn't help but feel betrayed nonetheless. If only they had searched longer, maybe they could have found him.

Shaking his head to dispel the memories of his sorrowful past, he realized he had been in here for far longer than would be advisable. Rising, he wrapped a towel that had been hanging from a bar around his waist and got out of the tub. He wrung out his long hair, and braided it back in a simple warrior's braid. He no longer had the honor of a warrior, let alone a prince, but he felt a small piece of himself come back when he had _some _sign of his past with him.

He rolled his shoulders back, took a deep breath, and prepared to leave the room and find out what his mistress wished for him to do now, and walked up to the door, only to collide with the figure hurrying in at the same time.

Being a dwarf, albeit a very malnourished and wounded one, Frerin was naturally steady on his feet, so he didn't move an inch. Mena, on the other hand, had been moving very quickly as she didn't want to lose her nerve to speak with him, and upon crashing into the dwarf at this velocity, was sent flying back several paces and landed on her butt with an "Oomph!"


	6. Repairs

**Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this story, and please remember that all constructive criticism and appropriate feedback is welcome. Please enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

Frerin and Mena stared at each other in shock for a moment, before they both began to move swiftly at the same time. Mena rose to her feet, and was about to speak when she saw the dwarf's actions and froze in place. Frerin, upon realizing that he had collided with his mistress, had no doubt that he would be blamed, and punished for humiliating her so. He hit his knees, bowing low and waiting for the penalty.

They remained as they were for a moment, Mena in shock, and Frerin waiting. As the dwarf didn't appear to be moving any time soon, Mena took a tiny step forward, and asked hesitantly, "Frerin? Are you hurt?" The dwarf looked up at her in astonishment for a moment before dropping his gaze once again. "I am well, mistress. I apologize for any harm done to you..." he trailed off, hoping the girl would be swift in her vengeance. Somehow, the anticipation of punishment was nearly as bad as the actual thing.

What he was not prepared for, however, was the gasp of dismay from Mena at his words. Mena choked back tears at the defeat and resignation in the dwarf's words and upon his face. She realized that he had not believed her earlier words regarding his freedom, and even now believed himself to still be a slave. Having the opportunity to observe his now dirt-free face and golden mane, she wondered who he had been before his time as a slave. He had an air of nobility about him, even now in these circumstances.

Clenching her fists in resolve, she stepped a bit closer, noting the minute flinch and tensing in Frerin's shoulders. "Frerin" she said very gently. "Please, get up." He obeyed, although his head remained bowed. "Follow me, please." Mena led the way down the hallway to a spare bedroom near her own, holding open the door and motioning the golden-haired dwarf through. He cautiously walked into the room, apprehension making him skittish. The dwarf glanced around the innocent-looking bedroom curiously, awaiting Mena's next move.

She left the door open, hoping to keep Frerin from feeling trapped. Mena handed the dwarf a pair of trousers and smallclothes, and then turned her back to give him some privacy to get dressed. The damp towel that had protected his modesty after his bath was placed carefully on the floor, and the dwarf quickly put on the garments. Hearing the motions behind her cease, Mena turned back around and smiled encouragingly.

Frerin felt some of his fears leaving, although he still remained slightly apprehensive. After all, years of abuse and pain are not easily forgotten. Looking at Mena, however, Frerin wondered if perhaps this young human was different than the others of her kind who had done unspeakable things to him.

"Take a seat on the bed, please." Frerin did so quickly, although he couldn't help tensing up again as the girl knelt behind him on the bed and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I know that many of my race have harmed you grievously in the past, Frerin, but I swear I will never do you intentional harm. If ever I do, speak up and hold me accountable, please. You are not my slave. Do you understand? You are free." Frerin nodded shakily, trying to process that she had been telling the truth earlier. Could he really be free? It just seemed too good to be true. "Thank you, mist- my lady."

Mena chuckled quietly at that, and gently requested, "Please, call me Mena. I am certainly no lady." Frerin turned slightly to give her a measuring look, then nodded. "Mena it is then." They lapsed into a comfortable silence after this, both caught up in their thoughts.

As they had been speaking, Mena had taken the healing supplies she had with her, and was gently tending to the wounds on Frerin's back. She worked quickly, but efficiently, and tried very hard to cause him no further pain. Binding the sterilized and medicine-covered wounds, she got off the bed and came around to kneel before him once more.

Gently taking his feet, she worked the cool healing salve into the sores around his ankles from the manacles. She then repeated her actions from earlier, holding out one of her hands, palm up, waiting for Frerin to give her his wrist. After he acquiesced, she carefully bandaged the wounds of his wrists as well.

When she was certain that the worst of his injuries were clean and bound, she rose and offered another grin, which was actually returned this time. "I thank you, Mena. Indeed, in this past hour you have shown me more kindness than I have seen in the last five years of my life." Her smile faded at this, and she looked troubled before responding. "Truly, Frerin, I only did what any _decent_ person should have done. There is no need to thank me, my friend."

The last two words slipped out before she could stop them, and she froze for a moment, wondering if she had caused offence by calling him such when she had no right to do so. However, Frerin saw the concern on her face, and grinned once again. "If you say so, _my friend_."

Mena looked up quickly, happy she had not angered him, and received a cheerful wink for her trouble. It appeared that now that the dwarf was safe, his inherent good nature was returning. Judging by the almost mischievous glint in his eyes, Mena guessed that he had been quite a rascal before his capture, an assumption only confirmed when he grinned roguishly and asked, "Now lass, I believe a while ago you mentioned something about breakfast?"


	7. Nightmares

**Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! This chapter is dedicated to you!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

Breakfast was by far the most cheerful time Bag End had seen since Mena had first arrived with Frerin. The dwarf appeared far more at ease and relaxed now that he felt safe, and knew that he was free. Mena was delighted at his cheerfulness, but didn't fail to notice the nearly hidden shadows in his eyes. She wanted to ask, but realized it was most likely memories of his past that haunted him, and she felt that she had no right to pry into his personal affairs. She remained open and friendly, giving Frerin the opportunity to speak of whatever he wished, but not pressuring him to give information he was not ready to divulge yet.

For his part, Frerin found his thoughts wandering to his long-lost family, and wondered if Thorin and Dis had survived the battle. He had a vague recollection of his grandfather's head rolling, but Frerin was unsure if perhaps that was only in his mind. Shaking his head to rid himself of these unwelcome thoughts, he returned his attention to his hostess.

They spoke of the weather, and of insignificant details regarding the shire and Mr. Bilbo Baggins. As they continued to converse, Frerin relaxed to the point where he felt confident enough to question Mena on a matter a bit more personal. "If you don't mind my asking, lass, what is a human girl doing living amongst all these Halflings? Have you no family elsewhere?"

Mena got a reminiscent and slightly guilty look in her eyes as she thought of her sisters. It had been many weeks since she had last been in contact with them, and it would most likely be several more before she would convince herself to sit still long enough to actually write a letter. "Aye, Frerin. I have three sisters living in Minas Tirith with my aunt. My father passed away some time ago, and circumstances dictated that my sisters and I leave our home a few months past."

"What circumstances?" Frerin asked curiously, wondering what could have happened. It was clear Mena was very fond of her sisters, and he couldn't imagine what would cause her to be separated from them for such a long time. It woke an answering spark of homesickness in his own heart as well, thinking of his siblings.

"Orcs." Mena said simply, noticing the way Frerin's eyes shot to hers in surprise. Whatever answer he had been expecting, it was not that. "There was a relatively small raiding party, only around ten, who came upon our farm and decided we were easy prey. I distracted them long enough for the others to escape, and then ran north. Bilbo has always been a good friend of my family, and generously allowed me to stay. He is like a dear brother to me, which is very fortunate, as I miss my sisters quite often."

She went on to explain about the living conditions with her adopted father's sister, and how there was no room or food enough for another person in the home. Mena smiled at the interested look in the dwarf's eyes, glad that her story had distracted him from his dismal thoughts, however temporary it may be.

They finished eating in a companionable silence after that, and then Mena escorted Frerin back to the same guest bedroom as before. "If you would like, you can certainly rest now. I have some work I need to catch up on, so I will be rather busy for a few hours, and Bilbo most likely won't be back until just before nightfall. Hobbits and their mushrooms, I swear!..." she trailed off at the amusements glinting in the dwarf's gaze as she ranted, and she hurried to finish what she had originally meant. "Uh- anyway, I just thought that perhaps some rest would do you good, and help your wounds heal faster. If you don't want to, that's fine. You may do whatever you wish, I didn't mean to imply-"

Here Frerin cut her off, taking pity on the somewhat flustered girl. "Thank you, lass. I would indeed cherish the chance to sleep for a time. Is this room acceptable?" Mena nodded quickly and replied, "Yes, Frerin, this is just an extra guest bedroom. I'm sure Bilbo won't care which room you pick. If you want a different one, by all means please go ahead and use whatever you like."

He smiled cheerfully and shook his head. "This is just fine. I hope your work goes well, Mena." She grinned in response and bowed slightly before leaving the dwarf to his rest.

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><p>Several hours later, Mena straightened and stretched, her muscles protesting loudly after having been in the same forced position for so long. She had been adding minute details to her small cache of counterfeit coins so as to make them appear yet more realistic. That this was rather redundant did not escape her notice, but it gave her something to do with her free time.<p>

There were very few opportunities to use the currency, as she would only cheat those who deserved it. She had given Bilbo her word to never try to use them against a hobbit on the first day he had caught her crafting the coins, and she had given him her word. To her great regret. It was most unfortunate that she had so sworn before she had the honor of making the acquaintance of the Sackville-Baggins folk. It would have been the height of achievement for her to have so deceived the snooty and self-righteous Lobelia and Otho.

A quick glance out the window of her little work-room showed the sun hanging low in the west, and she realized that it would soon be dinner time. Carefully cleaning up and placing her tools back where they belonged, she went to check on Frerin.

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><p><em>Blood. Pain. Fear. Thorin was yelling indistinctly in the background, telling him to stand strong, and put the fear of Mahal into the scum who dared stand against the line of Durin! Then wave after wave of goblins and wargs were upon them, and Frerin was fighting desperately for his life, and there was bright flashes of pain, then darkness.<em>

Frerin's eyes shot open and he gazed into the frightened eyes of Mena's as she clawed desperately at his hands restricting her breath. He immediately released her, and she collapsed to the ground gasping for breath. "Nightmares?" she rasped, as soon as she could speak clearly.

He nodded numbly, even as he was flooded with horror at having choked her. He backed up several paces, hands out in a placating manner. When Mena rose to her feet, he retreated even further, trying to give her space. She quickly stepped toward him, taking one of his hands and giving him a reassuring grin. "It's alright Frerin. My ada often had nightmares of his time fighting orcs as a ranger, and it would take him a bit to fully wake up as well." The dwarf didn't look convinced, so she tilted her head back to bare her throat. "Look. It is barely bruised, there is no lasting damage done."

She felt Frerin's fingertips gently brush against the darkening ring of bruises around her neck, then she looked back at him. "I'm- I am so sorry lass." She nodded, and then briskly said, "Now speak no more of it. 'Twas an accident, and no harm was meant by it. I came to wake you, and let you know that it is dinner time, and Bilbo will be back soon. Do you feel up to a meal with us?"

He nodded gratefully, and they both headed to the kitchen together. Shortly after they had begun to arrange dinner, they could hear Bilbo coming up the path humming a familiar tune. He came in, quickly added a generous amount of mushrooms to the stew that was cooking, and greeted Frerin like a brother. The three enjoyed a cheerful meal, and the incident was forgotten. All was well in Bag End.


	8. The Choice

**My thanks again to everyone who followed, favorite, or reviewed this story. I hope you all enjoy this next chapter!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

Three months later, Frerin had found himself settled peacefully into Bag End, viewing Mena and Bilbo as a sort of temporary family. He enjoyed the quiet peace of the shire, and the atmosphere allowed him to heal swiftly, both mentally and physically. Occasionally, nightmares would still torment his sleep, but they became fewer and farther between. Frerin knew that they would most likely never leave completely, but he was glad that the affects upon him were lessening every day.

As much as he enjoyed the time spent in this little land, his heart yearned for the mountains and his family. Erebor was in his blood, and he could not so easily forget his ancestral home. He found himself greatly missing Thorin and Dis, even more so now than he had during his time as a slave, when it was safer to not think of his home or family, but only on what the master or mistress desired. Now, with all of this free time on his hands, he yearned more than ever to be home.

Mena and Bilbo had made every effort to help him feel comfortable and accepted here, and it was greatly appreciated, but while Bag End was a wonderful place to be, it wasn't Erebor. It wasn't home. His heart longed for the mountains of his childhood, and he knew that it wouldn't be long before the yearning overtook his gratitude for rescue. Now that he had his health and strength back, Frerin knew that it was time to take his leave.

He only hoped that his hosts would not take the news badly. He knew that they had both grown very fond of him, and he would miss them just as much. They were the first of any race he had come across in his time as a slave to show kindness to him, and he knew he would be grateful forever, regardless of their protests that it was something any _decent_ person would have done.

Thus was the noble dwarf prince pacing like a dwarfling that had stolen sweets from his amad. Undignified or no, his nerves were highly strung, and he felt old insecurities creeping back in. What if they did not wish him to leave? What if Mena decided to change her mind and try to keep him here against his will? Logically, he knew it wouldn't happen, but he wasn't thinking entirely logically at the time.

Mena strolled out the door of the little library laughing at something Bilbo had just said, and for the second time in her life, she collided with the dwarf and found herself on the ground a second later. Unlike the previous occurrence, however, this time the two took one look at each other and burst into laughter. They couldn't help but be amused, the déjà vu of the moment was just too priceless. Remembering the reason he was there, however, sobered Frerin quickly.

He offered her a hand up, which she gratefully accepted, then grinned cheerfully at her friend. "What are you up to this fine morning Frerin? Causing more mischief?" As the dwarf had regained his health, so had he also reacquired a sense of mischief and humor, pulling frequent pranks upon any who wandered across his path. Bilbo and Mena were most often on the receiving end, although many other inhabitants of Hobbiton had also been targeted.

The dwarf shook his head gravely and requested, "Mena, I would like to speak with you and Bilbo on a matter that is very important to me." Hearing his tone of voice, Mena instantly sobered and nodded solemnly. The two walked back through the door Mena had just left, and Bilbo looked up from his book with a smile.

Mena took a seat next to him, leaving a comfortable armchair nearby for Frerin. The dwarf took a deep breath, and then began his explanation. He told them a little bit of his life before slavery, omitting the detail of his royal lineage, and then described the fateful battle that had lead to his capture and enslavement. Several times throughout his story, Mena gasped slightly, and both she and the hobbit looked as though they wanted to interrupt very much, but at his behest they remained silent.

Somewhat nervously finishing his tale with heartfelt gratitude to both of them for their kindness and hospitality, he gathered his courage and finally told them the reason for this little meeting. "While I in no way wish to insult your kindness, it is the desire of my heart to go to my true home. You have both given me a great deal, and I would repay you. In Erebor, I have the resources to reward you both quite handsomely for everything you have done for me, but I really need to go home. I hope neither of you take offence at this, but I greatly miss my blood family."

Frerin clenched his fists, wishing he were more eloquent, but hoping he had gotten his point across. Unfortunately, it was at that moment that Mena leapt to her feet, rage emanating from her entire body. "Frerin! You impossible, stubborn, rock-headed, _dwarf!_" she all but spat out, making the exiled prince waver between chuckling at her attempts at insults, or flinching from her apparent rage. "Why on middle earth would you think we would want any sort of reward for helping you?" Mena spat out 'reward' as though it were a curse. "You are a dear friend, and we would _never_ be dishonorable enough to think to ask you for gold or gems in repayment for doing the right thing!"

The dwarf relaxed then, although he continued to listen, knowing she was far from done. He now realized that her rage was not that he was leaving, but that he had wrongly assumed they would want repayment for their kindness. Mena was beginning to calm slightly, her fits of temper few and far between, and usually rather short-lived when she did give in.

"I'm sorry for yelling, I just never thought you would assume that either of us expected repayment of some kind." Bilbo nodded his fervent agreement, although the hobbit seemed content to let Mena speak for both of them at the time. "I believe I speak for both Bilbo and I when I say we are very sorry for your losses at Azanulbizar, and I dearly hope that your brother and sister are yet living. It seems the only logical thing to do would be for you to go back home to Erebor, and yet, I'm afraid I can't let you do that."

Frerin felt his heart sink, and he wondered whether he should try to convince her otherwise or if he would be forced to sneak away in the night like a common criminal. "You can't?" he queried softly, awaiting her next words anxiously.

"No." she said crisply, sounded completely assured of herself, and beginning to show a mischievous grin that she had learned from the dwarf himself. "You most certainly will not be going all the way back to Erebor by yourself. That is why I'm coming with you."


	9. A Journey Begins

**My sincere gratitude to everyone who reviewed and followed/favorite this story. I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

In retrospect, Frerin really wasn't able to understand what he had been thinking when he had tried to argue with Mena about her joining him. Forget the stubbornness of dwarves, what the people of middle earth should truly fear is the stubbornness of a determined woman. Granted, that was most likely true regarding females of any race, so the dwarf decided to count his losses after several hours of fruitless arguing. Mena was immovable. Her friend would not be sent on his way home by himself.

For her part, Mena was quite content to leave within the week, so long as they packed sufficient supplies and were both prepared for the time such a journey would take. She was in and out of Bag End countless times over the next several days, gathering non-perishable foods and sturdy water skins. The human and dwarf planned to travel by foot to the village of Bree, and from there purchase a pony and a horse to travel the distance between the town and Rivendell.

Frerin was initially against stopping at the Last Homely House, but Mena was able to convince him that it would be wise. Frerin may not have shared the extremely intense dislike of elves that his brother, and most of his people, had, but that did not mean he went out of his way to spend time with them. Nonetheless, he consented to planning a short stop to rest and resupply at the home of Lord Elrond, before continuing on their way.

Bilbo was very supportive of the plan, although he begged Mena to be cautious and not deliberately throw herself into harm's way. He was outwardly very happy for Frerin to be able to get home, and for Mena to go on an adventure, but when he didn't believe either was looking, it was clear that the hobbit was very worried. Mena was only twenty, after all, and while that may have been the human equivalent to a hobbit's fifty, she was still only just of age.

Although she was a woman, and in most places human women were kept sheltered, protected by men and escorted anywhere that could be considered dangerous, Mena had never been one for tradition. Her father knew well the evils of the world, and that there wouldn't always be a man around to protect his adopted daughters. He had tried to teach his other daughters some basic pressure points and moves of self-defense, but none of them had taken to it quite like Mena.

Amy had shown potential, but she had still been very young when the ranger had passed on, and Mena had little time to continue her sister's training. Mena, however, had soaked up all the instruction and training the experienced ranger had to offer. The results were what had led to her being able to distract and hold off a small band of orcs single-handedly as her sisters reached safety, and now she would again rely upon her abilities to protect her as she traveled with Frerin.

The dwarf didn't see anything wrong with Mena's gender, dwarves in general not differentiating in how they treated their peers regardless of gender, unlike the race of men. It was her young age that gave him pause, even as it did Bilbo, for by the standards of both their cultures she was only a child. Even by the standards of men, she was barely of age, and thereby Frerin knew he would feel personally responsible should anything harm her on their travels. However, over the week of preparations, both the dwarf and the hobbit came around to the idea, even if neither exactly approved. It wasn't as though Mena was letting either have a say in the matter, after all.

The morning of their departure, Mena was up with the sun, hurrying to pack a few last minute items such as a comb and an extra travel cloak. She also took a small package of dried herbs that would cause a female bodily process to cease for several months when taken in the evening once a week. Mena had no wish to deal with _that_ whilst on an adventure!

Frerin was also awake very early, excited and anxious to be on his way. Soon, so soon he would be home! He could see Thorin and Dis again, and Fili and Kili as well! He hoped his sister-sons were both yet alive and in good health. Well did the prince remember seeing his own mischievous nature mirrored in his nephews, and he could also recall his sister's ire whenever he would help them to pull off a larger-scale prank! _Soon I shall be with my family_...

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><p>The travel from Hobbiton to Bree was peaceful and uneventful, allowing the companions to begin adjusting to life on the road without strain. After they arrived at Bree, they spent the night at the inn of the Prancing Pony, where a kindly man with a heavily pregnant wife offered them a room at a very reasonable price.<p>

When Mena curiously asks what they plan to name the babe, the good lady replied, "If it be a lass, then Rose will be her name. And if a lad..." she trailed off, then resumed with a smile. "If it be a son, then I would name him Barliman after my father. Young Barliman Butterbur." Mena smiled, and wished her a swift and safe delivery, then she and Frerin found their room.

Normally, it would be a bit awkward for a young unwed female to be sharing a room with an unwed male, especially of another race, but Mena and Frerin were not uncomfortable. Many nights around the campfire had led to them being used to the proximity of each other, and Mena trusted the dwarf fully to not try anything at all against her. Frerin insisted that Mena take the small bed, choosing to sleep on the floor near the door in a guard position instead, regardless of her protests that it was unnecessary.

The next morning, they were able to find suitable equine mounts, and paid with a few gold coins that Bilbo had given them for just such a purpose. Mena had initially been tempted to use her fake coins, but Bilbo had talked her out of it, convincing her that these people had done nothing to warrant such treatment. She agreed, and the money they paid was legitimate. Shortly after obtaining the horses, Frerin and Mena left Bree to continue as swiftly as they could.

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><p>After that, the distance to Rivendell began to disappear beneath their mounts' hooves. Frerin was an excellent rider, and Mena a fast learner, so both were able to comfortably keep up a canter for several hours each day. Due to their muscles protesting such treatment, both ended up staggering around for the first couple of days after dismounting until their legs and backs had adjusted. The sturdy little horse and pony were built for endurance, and thrived, even while at such a grueling continuous pace.<p>

The closer they came to the Last Homely House, the more withdrawn and distracted Frerin seemed, and finally when the two camped at an old outpost that Mena recalled her father naming Weathertop, she decided to confront the dwarf about it. As she started a small fire, she watched the dwarf un-tack their mounts in a jerky, very distracted manner.

"Frerin?" she asked uncertainly, hoping he wouldn't be too upset at her next question. Hearing his name, the prince sighed slightly, allowing the tension to drain from his shoulders. "Aye, lass? What is it?" She rose from her crouch, sitting on the ground and asking the dwarf to sit beside her with a motion of her hand. He acquiesced, glancing at her curiously. "What's going on Mena?"

The girl pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on her arms, looking to her companion. "I would ask you that very thing my friend. What is it that causes you such distress?" He shook his head slightly as if to clear his thoughts, then replied softly. "In truth, I know not. A darkness weighs about my heart, and I know of no tangible reason for it." She smiled slightly, deciding to risk a jest. "Are you certain that this feeling of darkness has nothing to do with the fact that we draw ever nearer to the home of Lord Elrond?"

Frerin allowed a small grin at that, and gave her a gentle push on the shoulder. "Nay, although I do not look forward to it with any great joy. I fear that this darkness, whatever horror that comes, will occur after we depart Rivendell." Mena nodded, and said no more, hoping that this was only trepidation on the dwarf's part about being nearly home again after so long. The rest of the distance to the elven refuge passed in peace. They were welcomed in by none other than the Lord Elrond himself, who offered them his hospitality after learning that Mena's adopted father had been one of the Dúnedain.


End file.
