Hobbit 1. Three Very Dead Trolls

"Do you hear me?" came the wizards voice on the edge of her mind. It brought her out of her exhausted reverie staring into the darkness of her empty flagon, and she looked up at him with a sigh.

His brows furrowed under the large brim of his tall hat, "Something is on your mind."

It was not a question, but an observation.

She looked around the inn, which was quiet at this hour, and the fire in the hearth was reduced to glowing embers, "What good will I be to the company of Thorin Oakenshield, Gandalf? I have not a fraction of your power, or knowledge. Surely there are others...?"

He bent closer to her, the candle-light illuminating his ancient face, "There are no others."

* * *

The company of Thorin Oakenshield had not the slightest clue she had been keeping near them for days now, (since they crossed the border out of the Shire) not even the wizard Gandalf. Not that it was hard to be undetected by such a large and rather obnoxious group of dwarves. They were anything but quiet and left quite the (at times literal) breadcrumb trail behind them as they travelled. They built large cook-fires, and ate a remarkable amount of food, so much that she was surprised that their ponies could pack all of their provisions so well.

During a short meeting in Bree several months ago, Gandalf had spoken to her briefly about the quest he had a part in, and demanded that she kept it secret. He had told her only a few bits (ones that he obviously found important to her): the date he guessed they would be leaving Hobbiton, that they would be using the Great East Road and that he felt that he would have to take leave of the company at some point in the journey, and he wanted her to step in when he stepped out. When she had asked him for more information, he grew stern and irritated and quickly left the inn. His reaction troubled her for weeks after their meeting.

And so, she had planned to be on the Great East Road during the time Gandalf had told her to expect them, and caught on to their trail with ease. Since then, she had been following them on foot, keeping to the shadows and using the hilly landscape to her advantage to keep pace with the ponies, waiting for Gandalf to ride off to some other (undoubtedly more important) quest of his own.

Upon reaching the bridge that crossed the Mitheithel River, she had to wait till the company had crossed and set up their camp for the night before slipping across the bridge and making her own camp in a hollow some few hundred yards off of the Road.

The next night, the company had reached the Trollshaw forest, and had left the Road to make camp in an abandoned farmyard that one of the dwarves (one with a sharp eye!) must have spotted from the Road. She made her own camp on the side of a hill that faced the farmyard, but had more than enough foliage for her to hide in. She built no fires, and with no fire, there was no warmth and little comfort.

Just as she was unbuckling her sword belt, a powerful voice thundered over the hills and trees, "I've had enough dwarves for one day!" and was followed shortly after by: "I'm going to seek the only one around here who has any sense!".

Moments later, a horse rode by figure wrapped in a large grey cloak with a tall pointy hat galloped away from the forest and down the road at a furious pace.

By dark, she could hear axes falling on dry wood, and not long after that, the breeze picked up the scent of a stew simmering and sent it over her, making her realize her hunger. Turning over her mail coat and fur cloak that she had just taken off, she found her pack, in which was some bread, cheese and jerky, among other things. Contently leaning back on a gnarled root that protruded from the ground, she ate a meagre supper, while the company of dwarves smoked and ate well.

She had nearly dozed off when a chorus of battle-cries came from somewhere in the forest. Rolling into a crouch, she was able to get a better view of the dwarf camp from between two large thorn bushes. Their fire was still burning brightly but there were no dwarves to be seen. Instantly concerned, she gathered up her things, belting on her sword, swinging her bow and quiver over one shoulder, and her pack over the other, and headed down the hill towards the dwarf camp. Halfway there, she was stopped in her tracks by an echoing howl of pain that was not a sound any man, elf, or dwarf could make. However, she did know what creatures could make such sounds, and it drove her into a sprint. She did not even halt at the dwarf camp to drop her pack – she tossed it within the ring of light the fire had created and kept running, with her bow now in her hand. Around a bend she ran, and nearly collided with a pony. With a quick glance around, she counted only nine ponies, when there should have been thirteen. Looking a bit closer, she could make out the tracks of two sets of troll prints, and followed them deep into the musty forest.

With deft hands, she notched an arrow to the string of her bow as the glow of a fire came into view. The sounds of the battle had disappeared entirely, though she thought she could hear trolls arguing and rough dwarvish curses every now and then. When she realized that the fire was in fact in the middle of a small clearing, she stepped off of the trail of the trolls and made for the outline of a thick oak, and crouched behind it, with her bow at the ready. There was in fact three trolls, not just two, and they had four ponies penned up in a makeshift corral, and thirteen angry dwarves bound in various odd ways – some were in sacks, some just had their hands and feet bound, others were tied to a log that had been driven into the ground. Weapons of many kinds, and most sizes were scattered on the ground in the clearing, but out of reach of the dwarves. All of the dwarves were grumbling and complaining and cursing. Cursing being the most common of the three.

Being so close, she could listen in on the conversation between the trolls with ease, and had to smile a bit as they were in an intense argument on the best way to eat the dwarves and the ponies, and the dwarves always had something to say about each idea a troll came up with – skinned, not skinned, raw, in stew, squashed into jelly, with sage, without sage... the trolls seemed to like their food.

The argument began to get a bit heated, and made her nervous as she tried in vain to think of something to do, until the most remarkable thing happened. The halfling had gotten up from where the trolls tossed him, his hands and bare hobbit feet were still tied, but he _joined_ the argument. The dwarves all looked at him in confusion, unsure of what this hobbit was thinking he was doing. Many of the dwarves began to protest and curse at the hobbit _and_ the trolls.

She had realized that the hobbit was trying to buy them time – hoping Gandalf would return? Or did he think he would stall them until dawn? Regardless, she did not want to wait to find out. Standing up and drawing her bow, she took aim at the closest trolls neck, and let the arrow fly. It hit, but was a bit too low to kill the troll. Cursing, she ran into the clearing, notched another arrow and shot it at the same troll, this time, though, she did not miss her target. The arrow embedded itself deeply in the trolls throat, and the troll crumpled to its knees. The other trolls were yelling and howling in rage, charging at her with out stretched hands. Without thinking, she charged at them. She knew trolls were slow, and dumb. Diving between ones legs, she reached up and sank the arrow into the flesh of the trolls inner thigh, rolled forward, and found her hand hit something steel.

As she got up, she kicked out and sent a sword spinning towards where the halfling stood, in awe. She had hoped he had the sense to use it to get the dwarves free. Turning to face the trolls again, she drew her swords. They felt warm, and alive in her hands, almost humming with excitement. She dodged a club that was headed for her head, leaped forward and thrust a sword deep into an arm, severing plenty of muscle and tendon, and brought the second down into the crook of the trolls elbow. Blood splattered over her arm and face, hot, and it carried a stench that made her cringe. As she yanked her swords free, the troll made a terrible sound as it staggered to the side, giving her space to move to dodge the other troll trying to grab her barehanded. She managed to cut a couple of its thick fingers off and hacked others through to the bone. The other troll had righted itself now, and still had the club, but wielded it in its other hand. It was far more clumsy with its off hand, but it was even angrier now and swinging its club unpredictably, nearly hitting the other troll more than once. The other troll, with the severed fingers, was trying to swat her with its ruined hands, sending blood flying everywhere.

She found herself struggling to get her swords to reach the trolls to do any more damage, and was eventually pushed back against the massive fire, cornered by two very angry, wounded, and hungry trolls. She did not think the trolls wished to eat her though. "_Where are the dwarves?_" was a thought crossing her mind between her trying to figure out what she could possibly do next and realizing how hot the fire was at her back. Her thoughts were answered with many wild, loud, and vicious yells. Looking past the looming figures of the trolls, she could see many of the dwarves charging the trolls, with their weapons back in their hands, engraved edges glinting in the firelight.

Chaos had broke loose when the first dwarvish weapon bit into flesh. The trolls went wild, moving faster than she thought trolls ever could. The dwarves were equally as terrifying, relentlessly advancing on the trolls, working in twos or threes to over take the trolls. The trolls attempted a retreat, and nearly trampled her as they stumbled backward and crashed into the fire, sending sparks flying. She was knocked aside by a trolls knee as he fell, it was all she could to to assure she did not stab herself with a sword as she fell, and rolled out of harms way. As she recovered from her fall, she saw one troll fall and be swarmed by four or five dwarves as they made sure it would not be getting up again. The sound of a warhammer repetitively smashing into bone seemed to be louder than all of the other sounds in her ears. It was a sickening sound, and she found herself cringing again as she stood up, jamming her swords back in their scabbards at her hips. Grabbing her bow and a single arrow from the quiver strapped to her back, she took aim on the remaining troll. Determined to make sure the arrow would hit its target, she let go of the string, and the arrow whizzed through the sparks and embedded itself into the trolls temple and the troll fell in a plume of dust.

The dwarves that had been attacking it seemed to be making sure it was dead, and seemed to be pouring all of their anger into the task, while the other dwarves spoke among themselves, and stared at her with many different expressions. She used her sleeve to wipe some of the blood off of her face and neck, still slightly disturbed by the scent of it. She looked up, and was not surprised to see one of the taller dwarves striding towards her, with his sword still in his hand. The firelight was dancing across the bloodied blade of his sword, and smouldering in his eyes.

His voice was rough and deep as he spoke to her, his furious eyes locked on hers, "You! Who are you? Who sent you? How-"

She raised up to her full height, which was only a couple inches taller than him, "Thorin Oakenshield. Son of Thrain, son of Thror, and King Under the Mountain..." she was not going to forget her manners now, even if the tone of her voice wasn't exactly polite, "how delightful to meet you."

He seemed to be stunned by her greeting, or stunned that she knew who he was, yet he hadn't the slightest idea who she was. The demanding power in his voice seemed to waver a bit, "And who are you? What brought you here?"

She turned her eyes away from his as she returned her bow to its quiver and looked over the audience of sweaty, dirty, bloody dwarves that had been gathering behind Thorin, "You want my name then? I am Silwen Narethelen," she smiled at him, "And what brought me here is the terrible sounds that came from this forest not an hour ago."

Someone in the company whispered, "That's a half-elven name!" but she chose to ignore the observation and the whispers that arose with it.

He pushed the tip of his sword into the dirt, leaned on it, and growled at her, "The truth."

She nodded, "That is part of it, but I do not feel this is the place for interrogations. Why don't we leave these creatures to rot and talk around a comfortable fire?"

He gazed thoughtfully at his sword, lifting it and stabbing it back into the dirt, "You will talk here," he said in a low voice, "or I will make you talk." Turning to the broad, fierce looking dwarf beside him, he whispered something, and the dwarves began to leave, taking their distressed ponies with them.

Silwen raised her eyebrows and waited for the other dwarves to all leave, "So be it then..." she cleared her voice, "I have been following your tracks since you left the Shire. Some months ago, Gandalf asked me to keep my eyes and ears open for your company in this area, and made me aware that he expected to have to leave your company at some time. He had thought that in his absence, I would be of some help to you and your purpose, Thorin Oakenshield."

She felt his eyes sear into her as he growled, "What would a half-elven... girl know of my purpose?"

She met his glare and with a snarl, he turned away from her, staring into the fire with a deep and dark intensity she hadn't witnessed in years. She took a deep breath, "You have a map. And a key. But you have not the knowledge to put either to use. I know of those who could give you such knowledge. Following a map you can not read is folly."

His posture went rigid at the mention of the map and key that had been passed down to him by his father, and his dark stare changed to one of longing – still straight into the flames. Silwen crossed her arms, and waited for his reply, becoming irritated by the blood drying on her skin and cracking each time she would move. She looked up at the sky, and could see the moon just peeking over the tops of the trees, casting even more light into the already fire-lit clearing.

Finally, he turned away from the fire and faced her, "You and Gandalf both say there are few who can read this map," he patted a gloved hand against his chest, probably where the map was tucked safely into a pocket, "but he wanted me to go to the elves. I will have you know I will not trust them, nor will I go to them for help."

Silwen understood him on a level deeper than he knew, and found herself nodding slowly, then said plainly, "Old wounds, but wounds nonetheless."

The dwarf turned and began to walk out of the clearing and called back, "Welcome to my company, Silwen Narethelen."

He was swallowed by the forests shadows, and she found herself alone, splattered with blood, smeared with dirt, with three very dead trolls, and (not that she knew it yet) facing the beginning of her own unexpectedly pivotal tale.


	2. The Company of Thorin Oakenshield

When she reached the dwarves camp, most of them were settled down for the night, though none seemed to be asleep, they were just quiet. A few of them had long, curved pipes lit and were smoking them contently, and somewhere, a whetstone scraped slowly along the edge of a sword.

She stepped carefully as she wove a path between dwarves and their belongings, careful to not upset either, and retrieved her pack from where she had tossed it earlier. By the weight of it, she knew that none of the dwarves had taken anything from it. Not a dwarf (or halfling) muttered a word to her as she passed them. The two that were sitting side-by-side at the fire watched her closely, however. She set her things down at the base of a tree on the edge of the camp, drawing her waterskin from her pack. It did not take her long to empty it as she tried in vain to wash the trolls blood from her skin and hair. Muttering a curse under her breath she dropped it to the ground, and let herself take a spot next to it. A yawn passed her lips as she stretched her legs out, frowning at the new tear in her leggings. She rested her head against the rough bark of the tree and closed her eyes, feeling all of the adrenaline seep out of her body, and being replaced with heaviness. She waited until she heard deep rumbling snores coming from the dwarves before wrapping herself in her cloak and allowing herself to sleep for a while.

She woke before any dwarves had stirred, when the mornings first rays were just sparkling above the trees. The stench of the trolls foul blood still lingered on her body, and she could still feel it caked to her skin, and it cracked when she moved. Sitting up, still wrapped in her cloak, she unravelled her braid and raked through it with her fingers, pale locks spilling over her shoulders. She combed through her hair vigorously, attempting to rid it of the blood that had dried in it before she put it back in its braid. Taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air, she unwrapped her cloak from her shoulders and gathered her things and quietly slipped away from the camp. In the forest, she found blueberries nestled in a shaded low spot and picked enough to sate her hunger for the morning. Enjoying her breakfast, she wandered back to the camp and was surprised to see that the dwarves had all risen, and were preparing to leave.

Finishing the last few of the berries, she shouldered her pack and approached Thorin, who was standing off on his own, holding the reins of his ponies bridle as it grazed. If he had heard her approach, he did not show it, and if he was startled when she spoke, he did not show that either, but turned to her slowly when she said, "I do not need to ride at all. I can walk or run to keep up until we arrive somewhere that I can supply myself with a mount."

He did not know that she meant to lead them off of the Great East Road, and into the wilder-lands to the North of Rivendell, where she had lived for much of her life, and where she had a horse. Again, she was not lying to him, but was not quite telling him everything.

"There is no place," he looked at her questioningly, "between here and the Misty Mountains where you can buy a horse. And I will not set foot in Rivendell."

She tightened the strap that lay across her chest, which held her bow and quiver in place, "I do not wish to go to Rivendell either. Elrond will only try to stop you. I know of someone who will help you."

His eyes sparkled for a moment, "Who?"

Silwen smiled, "A friend. He lives in solitude these days, in the lands North of Rivendell." She paused to rub some remaining blood off of her temple. She thought: _what are trolls doing in these parts? The trolls do not like to leave the mountains. _Subconsiously, she breathed, "Trolls cannot travel in daylight."

Thorin raised an eyebrow, but did not say anything. She turned on her heel, and called (to no one in particular), "Trolls cannot travel in daylight! There has got to be a cave nearby!"

The company all stopped in the middle of whatever each was doing and stared at her. One dwarf (the broad one that had been at Thorins side after the fight with the trolls) called back to her, "And what importance is their cave to us?"

Silwen stopped at the edge of the farmyard and turn around to look at him, "Trolls, Master Dwarf, hoard the most curious things. Oftentimes, valuable things."

The dwarves all looked at each-other and whispered back and forth for a minute before one dwarf (one with a large red beard) stepped forward, "Well, what are we waiting for?"

The company all abandoned their tasks and, with Thorin in the lead, searched out the trolls cave. Silwen had noticed they crossed the path the trolls made to their cave a couple times before they stumbled on the gaping hole in the earth. She had no wish to insult Thorins leadership, for fear of jeopardizing her place in the company. The foul stench of death and decay was clouded around the mouth of the cave. She waited there, at the mouth of the cave, while all of the dwarves filed into the cave, grumbling at the awful smell. Not all of the dwarves were in the cave before she heard coins jingling and other metals ringing together.

Silwen took a deep breath before descending into the cave, and saw a few chests of gold coins and other trinkets forged from precious metals. The dwarves had already rummaged through them completely, and were picking out and packing away all of the items they wanted to take. She had little interest in the contents of the cave, until a certain barrel in the corner caught her eye, and had caught Thorins eye as well. He was already there, and had two dusty swords in his hands. Through the dust, she could see that both weapons were not made by any troll, or man. She reached out and brushed some dust off of the hilt of one of the blades. The steel still shone brilliantly, the decay of time had not touched it."These swords were forged by my ancestors."

Thorin moved to drop the swords back into the barrel, and Silwen stopped him by grabbing the hilt of one, "Weapons like this do not exist in the world today. There are no equals to these."

She pulled the sword from its adorned sheath and turned around to let the light reflect off of its edges. They blade was perfect, there were no blemishes in the steel, and the edge was still as sharp as it was the day it was finished. The elvish characters engraved into its crossguard shone brilliantly as they caught the light. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Thorins eyes grazing up and down the blade, critiquing every inch of the elven steel. He handed her the sheath that belonged to the sword she was holding and did not say a word, but instead left the cave, brushing the dust and cobwebs off of the sword he carried. Silwen watched him leave, wondering if she would ever understand dwarves.

She took a quick look through the other weapons in the barrel, and saw nothing worth saving. Turning to leave, her boot scraped on something beneath the dirt, and revealed the detailed scabbard of another elvish sword. Curious, she picked it up, and was slightly disappointed. She half expected another sword like the two Thorin had found, instead, she was holding something that was bigger than a dagger, but smaller than your average sword. She did not want such an ancient weapon to be forgotten in a trolls cave, but she did not want to carry the extra weight. With a sigh, she too left the cave, carrying one sword in each hand.

She had only been outside the cave for a few minutes when the dwarves decided it was time to leave the cave to be forgotten again. Together, they returned to the camp to fetch the ponies and be off. Just as she was starting to ponder where she was going to put these extra swords to travel, the halfling stumbled on a root in front of her, and she instinctively reached out and put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, with the smaller sword hanging from its belt that was looped around her wrist. The sword was perfect for his size and stature. Although she doubted he had ever used a sword before in his life, she did not doubt that he would need one before this journey was over. He turned to her and quickly, and politely, said his thanks and continued on his way. She reached out again, but her fingers did not quite reach his shoulder, "Master Hobbit!"

He turned to her again, "Is there something I could help you with?"

Silwen smiled and offered the sword to him, brushing off some more dust (there was a lot, considering it had been beneath a layer of dirt for some time), "It's about your size. You will need it some day. I can assure you it would be helpful... the blade will probably glow blue when Orcs are near."

The halfling shook his head, "I cannot take it. No. I will not. No...thank you."

He began to walk away again, and Silwen still stood there, still holding the small sword out in offering. From behind her came a voice, "You best take that, lad."

She looked behind her, searching for the origin of the voice. It came from under a lop-eared hat. The mouth under that lop-eared had was curled up into a welcoming smile.

She turned back to the halfling, as if to say, _"Well, are you going to take it?"_. The halfling thought a moment then grumbled and shook his head, but took the sword from her. She nodded and smiled at him, "May it serve you well."

"Yes well," he fumbled with the belt a bit, then huffed, "Thank you. I'll have you know I have a better chance of sticking myself with this than anything else."

_"This halfling is an interesting one to bring on a quest to reclaim a mountain from a dragon!"_ Silwen found herself thinking, mouth half open and eyes blinking.

The dwarf behind her patted her arm as he walked by, and guided the halfling on, "Come on Bilbo, we've still got a long ways to go yet."

The rest of the morning was spent leading the ponies through the forest to the very edge of it, where it was comfortable to ride, for all but Silwen, who walked. Thorin had wanted to stay off of the Road as much as possible now, no doubt made uneasy by the trolls the previous night. Silwen agreed with him wholeheartedly, things were changing in Middle Earth, things they did not understand.

The sun reached its height soon enough and the dwarves were tossing bread and other food to each-other and ate as they rode. Despite having walked alongside the same dwarf for some time, Silwen had said nothing to him, and he said nothing to her. Although, she did catch him looking down at her from his pony. When he got his lunch, another chunk of bread came flying over the shoulder of the dwarf in front of him. He dropped his reins to catch it and offered it to her, looking down at her with curiosity. With a nod of gratitude, she took it from him and said, "Thank you, it is kind that you share your rations with me."

He simply shrugged in response. Silwen began to tear small pieces away from the bread and eat them contently as she walked. Behind her, two dwarves, (she had assumed they were brothers, or close kin) were quietly singing a happy little tune. They had just finished their little song and were laughing to each-other when the dwarf beside her cleared his throat, "Um. Excuse me. I hope you don't mind me asking," Silwen looked up at him, and when she made eye contact, he turned his eyes away from her, but kept talking, "but... why are you so short? Being an elf and all... or... well... pardon me... part elf?"

The dwarf riding beside him on the far side reached over and gave him a shove, growling, "Ori!"

The dwarf, who was Ori, gave the dwarf beside him a look, "What? It's an honest question! Don't act like you weren't _thinking_ it!"

The other dwarf began to grumble, "Well..." but the rest of what he was saying was lost in his beard.

This Ori was a young dwarf, it seemed to her. Perhaps even the youngest of the company, though she could not even begin where to start guessing his age.

Silwen laughed, "I do not take offence to your question, if that is how you thought I would react. In fact, I get asked that very question nearly everywhere I go. I am quite used to it."

It had appeared that the company in its entirety was now listening to her, so she kept talking, "Altogether, it is somewhat of a long story, but I will give you the short story. My mother died giving birth to me, (do not be sorry, I cannot mourn her for I never knew her) and my parents lived a fairly solitary life at the time, and my father could get no help to care for me when I was in infant. As a result of that, I was a very weak, sickly child, and he feared many times that I would die, but I didn't. Because of being so frail, my body grew very slow, and eventually stopped growing all-together. I did overcome my frailty eventually, which took many years, but here I am. Answer enough to your question, Ori?"

All of the dwarves were silent for quite some time before the halfling blurted, "Well, that's good then."

Over half of the dwarves burst into roaring laughter, while the rest looked straight to Silwen to see her reaction, only to find her smiling, not embarrassed, or upset, or drawing her bow to shoot the halfling off of his pony.

The next day and a half passed smoothly, there were no encounters with dangerous beasts (or animals for that matter), and tempers never flared (which she learned was one of the dangers of being in Thorin Oakenshield's company).

Over her first days in the company, she learned all of the dwarves' names, and although she could get say them all when asked, she could place a name with a face.

The two dwarves that had been singing together were Fili and Kili, Thorins nephews and heirs. Fili was the eldest of the two, with fair hair. Thorin seemed to expect much from him, in all aspects, whether it was how he talked with his fellow companions, or how he handled his responsibilities. Kili, the one with a dark hair, was lighthearted and rather reckless. Thorin was far more tolerant of him than he was of Fili.

Other than those two, where was Balin and Dwalin, who were also brothers, Dwalin being the dwarf that rarely left Thorins side. Ori, Nori and Dori were brothers; as well as Oin and Gloin; and Bofur and Bombur, who were accompanied by their cousin Bifur.

She had learned little of the dwarves other than their names. Bifur, Bofur and Bombur were not descendants of the line of Durin like Thorin, Fili, Kili, Balin, Dwalin, Oin and Gloin. Neither were Dori and his brothers.

The dwarves did not speak openly about their past, and Silwen feared to ask. The last thing she wanted to do was ask a question that would bring up things that are better left to lie, as she knew that feeling well. Even though the dwarves were not open about their past, they were becoming more accepting of her in their company, which made her feel at ease. She even found herself compelled to help them on their journey beyond what Gandalf had requested of her. She did not know how or why, (nor did she want to sit and ponder on it) but she felt connected to Thorins purpose on a profound level that actually had no connections to Erebor, gold, or dragons.


	3. Hunted

At noon, on Silwen's third day with the company, they had reached the very edge of the forest. Thorin had ordered they stop for lunch, and give the ponies a rest before crossing the distance between the forest and the Misty Mountains. She had overheard that he wanted to ride at as quick of a pace as possible over that distance as they would have to abandon the ponies to cross the mountains as he had been told that the path had grown treacherous and unfit to ride on. Silwen had heard the same rumours, though they were more than rumours to her as she was told from men who had recently passed through the Misty Mountains.

As the ponies were being cared for by Fili and Kili, Gloin started a small fire and Bofur dug through packs to put together a quick meal large enough to satisfy the company. The rest of the company sat in the tall, thick grass, smoking and stretching their legs out. Silwen also sat in the grass, between Nori and Oin, with the sword she found in the trolls cave on her lap. It had become a burden to carry on her hip, along with her two other (smaller and far lighter) swords which she carried on each hip. She was busy fashioning the swords belt so she would be able to carry it on her back, under her bow and quiver. The last buckle was not going to be easily buckled, her crude alterations being nearly too bulky to even work. She was tugging on it fiercely when a low rumbling growl came from somewhere up the hill and in the trees to the North. Others heard it too, and were getting to their feet, weapons already drawn. Silwen held the buckle up to her mouth and used her teeth to pull the leather through while she got up. Nori whispered, "What was that?"

His question was answered when two wargs came bounding out of the trees and down the hill, lips pulled back in terrible snarls. Silwen had killed wargs before, and in doing so, learned that wargs and Orcs were together all to often. Drawing the sword, she ran towards the wargs, Dwalin and Thorin close behind her. An arrow whizzed by her and hit its mark between the eyes of the nearest warg, and it fell, rolling toward her. She stumbled as she tried to get out of the way of the tumbling creature, and saw Thorin drive his sword nearly hilt deep into vulnerable spot between the warg's neck and shoulder, stepping aside so the creature would not knock him down. Dwalins axes came down in a flurry of steel into the back of the wargs skull.

Balin was suddenly beside her, and announced, "Warg scouts! An Orc pack is not far!"

Silwen felt many accusing glares on her just then, and Dwalin strode up to her, bloody axes raised, "Have you betrayed us!?"

She shook her head, stepping back and lowering her sword, "I swear I would not do such a thing! I swear!"

Kili's distressed voice severed the tension between her and Dwalin, "The ponies! Thorin the ponies bolted!"

Silwen felt a stab of fear when Thorin yelled a curse in dwarvish as he ran toward her, bringing his sword up to hold the point at her throat, "Are you behind this?"

Blood dripped off of the edge of his sword, still hot as it landed on her skin. Silwen shook her head slowly, with her eyes searching Thorins, she stammered, "I-I told no one. No one! Myself and Gandalf are the only others who know of your quest. Please, you must believe me."

Thorins lip curled up in a snarl as he leaned forward, letting the tip of his sword kiss her throat.

Balin said, "Thorin, we have no time. We cannot linger."

Dwalin was shouting over his brother, "Slit her throat and leave her here to rot!"

Silwen dropped her sword and held her shaking hands up in the air, "You cannot outrun them. You have no where to go! They well over take you long before you reach the mountains." She heard herself beg, "Follow me and I will take you to safety! Please..."

His eyes bored into her for what felt like an eternity before he lowered his sword and said, "You'd better start running then."

Silwen could barely manage a nod. The company was in a state of panic, with the ponies run off, they had lost much of their provisions, all they had left was their weapons and what little they carried themselves. She picked up her sword, ran to her pack, tossed it over her shoulder, and shrugged her swords scabbard onto her back. She climbed the hill, and looked out over the vast landscape of rolling hills before her. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw the dwarves all sprinting up the hill after her, so she took it as a sign and started running, hoping to make use of what little help the land offered her. There was one problem however: her experience with Orc packs told her that the pack was to the North, (where the scouts had come from) and her destination was also to the North.

However, that was not on her mind as much as putting as much distance between the Company and the Orc pack, even though no one had actually seen the pack yet. She was sure that no one had been looking either.

She guided them behind ridges, hills, and bluffs of stone. When a howl sounded over the hills, they found themselves being able to run even faster over the unforgiving terrain riddled with rocks and dense, thorny bushes. She raised her hand when they got to a high bluff of stone, signalling for them to stop, and stood with her back to the stone, crouched low. She waited for everyone to come to a stop before looking around at them, motioning for them to stay where they were. Jumping up, she felt her hands landed on stone, and found handholds in the rock. Her arms and legs were burning, but she found it in her to pull herself up and look out over the landscape. At first, there was nothing, not even a deer that she could see. But, looking closer, and seeing through the tricks that the hills and their shadows played, she could make out what looked like half a dozen heavily armed Orcs mounted on dark-haired wargs. They were far enough away that they would not catch the company's scent, but close enough that if the company were exposed out in the open for too long that they would be seen, if they hadn't been spotted already.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed away from her hand and foot holds and dropped to the ground, surrounded by desperate, questioning eyes all around her. She took the spare moment and returned her sword to its place on her back while saying, "If we are lucky, we haven't been seen. But, they do move as if they are hunting something. Or someone."

Fili spoke in a low, rushed voice, "Can we outrun them?"

Thorin looked at his nephew with genuine concern, "We have no hope of reaching anywhere safe before they over take us."

While the company talked amongst each-other, Silwen paced away from them, thinking.

They were running out of choices, and all of the ideas she thought about were certain to fail.

Balin grabbed her arm, "What way were they headed!?"

She answered him flatly, "West." _West. They were headed west. _

"If we go straight North," she spoke loud enough to hush the company, "We have a chance of ending up behind them, and it may give us enough time to find somewhere safe."

Kili blurted out, "Are you insane? That will never work!"

Thorin shamed him with a look, which was all it took from Thorin to make anyone feel smaller, "Kili, if you have any better ideas, please share them."

The young dwarf prince shook his head and lowered his eyes to stare at the ground.

Thorin walked to the edge of the bluff, looking out over the hilly landscape, "Any chance is a good chance."

His words were enough to inspire enough energy into the company to send them off running again, with Thorin in the lead. The dwarves were looking frantically from side to side as they ran, as if they were expecting the Orcs to come charging over the next hill. Silwen kept pace with them easily, but had to admit that despite their stature, the dwarves moved incredibly fast. She was also desperately looking for the Orc pack, but could not see anything without climbing a hill, and Thorin led them just as she had – trying to keep the company as hidden as was possible.

Eventually, they were faced with having to expose themselves in the open. They did not falter their pace as they sprinted for the next hill so they could hide behind it. Silwen stopped and let all of the dwarves, and halfling (who seemed to be keeping up, but barely) run by. It was then that she did see the Orc pack. To her dismay, the Orc pack had turned to the South, making their paths parallel to each-other. There was no way that the Orc pack could miss the company as they ran. Fearing that they would be forced to fight, Silwen instinctively drew one of her swords as she ran to catch up to the company again. When she had caught up, she told the company of what she had seen, and what she predicted, to which the response was the drawing of weapons. They still ran at the same pace, until they got to another large bluff of stone that rose to their right with a hill on their left. Thorin stopped them there, at the bluff of stone, doubling over to catch his breath. Silwen cast herself against the cool rocks, closing her eyes and leaning her whole body against it, gulping for breath. The afternoon had grown old already, and they had been running for hours. The halfling and a few other dwarves had thrown themselves to the ground the moment Thorin gave a signal for them to stop.

Thorin looked up at her, "We cannot continue like this. Nor will we be able to fight."

Before she could speak, or find enough breath to do so, a chorus of surprised cries arose from the dwarves, followed by the pounding of hooves. She looked up to see a black horse come bounding down the hill with a hooded and cloaked rider upon its back, his long spear catching the sunlight as he rode. Kili already had an arrow notched and was glancing at Thorin for the permission to shoot. Silwen threw herself in front of Kili, and knocked his bow to the side with her forearm, "No! Don't shoot!"

The rider made no effort to lower his spear to strike anyone, but spurred his horse on, riding right by, calling back as he did so, "Stay where you are!"

His horse lunged up the hill, and horse and rider galloped away, making straight for the orc pack.

The dwarves all looked about them in awe of what had just happened, while Thorin and his nephews climbed to the top of the bluff and lay on the stone, watching.

Dwalin confronted her immediately, "Do you know this madman?"

Silwen nodded, "Yes, I do."

The dwarf crossed his mighty arms, "He is a man with a death wish to face that orc pack himself."

Silwen shrugged, "I am not certain he will be fighting them."

As she spoke, Kili leapt down from the high mound of stone, and rolled to break his fall. He hopped to his feet and brushed himself off, "He isn't fighting them, Dwalin. He's leading them away!"

Dwalin just shook his head and walked away, leaving Kili standing there, smile still on his face.

"Do you think it will work?" the young dwarf asked her.

She wiped her brow with her sleeve, "There is little he does that doesn't work."

By that time, Thorin and Fili had left where they had been laying on the stone and approached her and Kili. Thorin, despite the exhaustion that everyone was feeling, still held himself proudly, weariness did not even show in his voice when he spoke, "That rider, who is he?"

Silwen could not help but to smile, "He's my father."


	4. Silevon

"Did you know he was going to help?" Thorin asked her. He had grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the rest of the company. Balin stood next to him, but was silent.

Silwen was pacing nervously in front of him as he questioned her, "Thorin, I already told you that I had no idea that he would show himself out here."

"So it was completely by chance that he found us?"

"Yes, for the last time!"

Thorin remained silent for a short while, eyes lowered and deep in thought.

Since her father had led the Orc pack away, Thorin had let his company rest, though not without two dwarves keeping watch from the mound of stone above them. Heavy armour and weapons were scattered in messy piles on the ground. The dwarves had all stripped themselves of their armour - the run had left them hot, sweaty and completely spent. Even Thorin, who did not part with his armour or weapons often, had let his cloak fall off of his shoulders and had left his sword lay with it.

Silwen stopped her pacing and looked at Thorin for a moment. His head was still bent in thought. "You know," her voice got him to look up, "my father is the one who can probably read your map for you. I was leading you to him."

A heavy sigh came from Thorin before he said, "He is an elf."

"So am I!" she snapped, "You are going to have to see past some of your hate if you want to even make it to Erebor."

Balin patted Thorin on the arm, but he never spoke.

Before giving Thorin a chance to make an argument, she decided to try to reason with him another way, "My father will be willing to share some provisions to replace what you lost with your ponies. Also... under his roof, there is no hunger, thirst or weariness."

Thorins brow furrowed, "You seem so certain he was not overtaken by the Orcs."

Silwen smiled at him as she walked by, "He would not let his fate be dealt to him by such foul creatures."

She left Thorin and Balin standing there, in hopes that they would talk and make the decision to go to her father for help.

The sun was low in the sky, and the shadows had grown long. No one had dared even mention lighting a fire, for the danger of the Orc pack was still too fresh in everyone's minds. On the horizon, thunderheads loomed. A frown tweaked her lips as lightning flickered in the storm clouds. She sat down in the grass and put her head in her hands, waiting for her father to return. A half hour must have passed when she found herself yawning and suddenly wanting to wrap up in her cloak and let sleep wash over her. Forcing herself to resist the temptation to do just that, she got up and, taking her cloak with her, sat back down between Ori and Kili. She wrapped the fur lined garment around her shoulders and pulled the hood up to block off the wind that was beginning to pick up.

Ori was grumbling something when she approached, and all she heard was, "...the last thing I want to be right now is cold and wet!"

On her right, Kili laughed, "Well, you could be cold, wet _and _dead." The young dwarf shrugged, "Not that it would matter if you were dead."

Ori opened his mouth as to speak, then closed it and gave Kili a glare before looking at his hands in his lap. Kili continued to laugh quietly to himself. Silwen looked over at him, having to reach up and pull her hood back a bit so she could see his face, "Kili, is Thorin always so-"

He cut her off, "Angry?" he didn't look at her, but shook his head, dark hair falling into his eyes, "No... he isn't. Back home, before he became so... consumed by this quest, he was almost a different man. Well, he laughed far more anyway."

Silwen could hear a reminiscent tone in his voice when he spoke of home. She pulled her cloak even tighter around herself, tucking her nose into the soft fur, "Is it hard seeing him like this?"

He pushed his hair back and looked at her from the corner of his eye, "You know, at first it was. But reclaiming Erebor means everything to him. It's become a part of him."

On her other side, Ori stirred and said, "Have you ever seen a dwarf city?"

Silwen smiled at him, "No Ori, I have never had the chance too. I have barely even seen any cities of Man."

Ori was a curious dwarf, "Where do you live?"

Silwen shrugged, and had to think a moment before answering, "Nowhere really. I have yet to stay anywhere long enough to call it home."

Her reply obviously took Ori by suprise, because he looked at her blankly for a good long while before turning away.

The wind had picked up, enough to send Silwen's loose strands of hair whipping against her face and make the grass ripple before it as if it were water.

Beside her, Kili snarled and pulled his hood up as well, "How long must we stay here?"

"Until my father returns," she stated, "Which he will."

Kili did not seem entirely convinced, nor did everyone else. With the storm coming ever closer, the more eager they were to find better shelter. When the wind began to gust fiercely, the company all drew closer to each-other, huddled in their cloaks. When the first sheet of rain hit them, a series of complaints, groans and curses were muttered, as she expected. What she did not expect was Ori moving himself behind her slightly, partially blocking her from the onslaught of wind and rain. Her mouth fell open, and she did not know whether she should thank him, move, or stay put and act as if it never happened. She cringed a little as Kili snorted and giggled to himself beside her. Fili had joined his brother now, and Kili turned to him and was whispering to him, laughing all the while. Silwen shook her head, feeling a bit sorry for Ori, but had decided to act as though she hadn't noticed anything. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead upon them, closing her eyes.

The sun had been swallowed by the storm-clouds, and the only light they had was from the lighting that flashed violently around them. Without asking anyone, or hearing it, it was obvious that Thorin had decided that they were going to wait for her father to return. Dwarves were pulling out blankets and drawing them across their shoulders, in an attempt to keep the chill of the rain away. Kili saying her name made her lift her head and look over at him. He was holding the edge of a blanket out, asking her to move closer. She shook her head, "I'm quite alright."

He sighed and wrapped the blanket around himself, looking away from her.

They must have sat in the storm another hour before a voice rang above the howl of the wind, "Get to your feet!"

The company listened, all nearly jumping to their feet at once, hands going to their weapons. Silwens father had returned, spear still in his hand. His great horse was foamy with sweat and chomped at the bit excitedly.

Thorin approached the rider, "Your daughter told us you had food and shelter for us?"

He jumped down from his horses back, and still towered over Thorin, "I do. It may take a few hours to get there in this, but it will be warm and dry."

Thorin dipped his head in gratitude, "Lead on then, Elf."

"Silevon," he said, "my name is Silevon."

Thorin nodded and turned away from the elf to speak to Dwalin and Gloin.

Silwen had gotten to her feet, with all of her things cradled in her arms. She looked up to see her father gazing at her with deep, wise eyes. Drawing his hood off of his nearly white hair that stuck to his fair face, he strode to where she stood and bent down to wrap his long, powerful arms around her in a strong embrace. He whispered in her ear, "You've been gone too long, daughter."

She smiled as he drew away, "It hasn't been that long, barely a year."

He shrugged, "Really? Time passes far to slow when I'm alone." He went to get back on his horse, "You are going to have to tell me how you managed to get mixed up in this."

She shouldered her pack, "It's not that enticing of a story... yet. I would much rather hear how to lost that Orc pack."

Silevon swung up into the saddle, reined his horse around and spun the spear in his hand, the lightning flashed off of it as it spun "Oh, well you wouldn't believe who I nearly ran into out there. But, there will be plenty of time to talk once we've all dried off and rested a bit."

He rode off at a walk, making the company jog to catch up initially, after that, they followed nearly single file behind him, bent against the relentless wind and rain. They walked as such for several hours, with the cold seeping into their bones and wind numbing their skin.


	5. Brambles

Silevon's home appeared to be a small cabin nestled between two river hills from the outside. Once inside, however, it was not what it appeared. Silevon had found the place abandoned many years ago and learned that it was once a large inn, used by the Rangers of the North. Long ago, the Rangers could ford the river near where the inn was built, so a road once existed there. Time had changed the river and eventually, it became too strong to cross, so the road and the inn were abandoned.

The inside of the old inn was built into the side of the river hill, and was two stories high. The main room was built around a massive stone hearth that towered all the way to the ceiling. It was a bare room, with only a large rug and a few chairs around the hearth. A tall archway off to the right led to the dining hall and kitchen, which was large enough to serve a large crowd, and was furnished as such, even though Silevon lived primarily alone now. The entire upstairs was double rooms, with the exception of the few rooms that Silevon altered into his study, armoury and two single bedrooms – one for himself and one for his daughter.

With Silwen leading them inside, the company all filed into the main room, dripping a trail of water wherever they went, shivering and weary. They carelessly dumped their soggy packs around the hearth and began to take off layers of soaked clothing and armour. Silwen dropped her things near the hearth as well, and headed straight for the kitchen for the teapot and wine. When she returned to the main room, Silevon had come inside, and was talking to Thorin off in the corner. She handed the pot to Dori, and the wine to Nori, "Help yourself."

They took the teapot and wine with slow nods. Silwen stood near the fire, hands outstretched, soaking in as much warmth as she could, "There may be rooms enough for you upstairs. I do not think everyone will get a bed, however, I do believe there will be bedrolls and blankets enough for everyone."

She heard the door open and slam shut against the wind. Silevon entered the main room, one hand at his throat, untying the cloak that hung off his shoulders the other was still holding the spear. Dragging the cloak off and tossing it on his shoulder, he announced, "I was not expecting company, and I am not one to cook. You will have to help yourselves, but please," his voiced seemed strained, "do not make a catastrophe of my kitchen."

He crossed the main room and ascended the stairs with an eerie gracefulness that Silwen knew was a part of being an elf that she did not inherit. She gathered her things and trudged up the stairs after him. Her feet felt like stone, her legs – lead, and her mind was foggy. Silevon disappeared into his room and did not even turn to look at her as she arrived on the second floor. Her room was next to her fathers, as it had been for as long as she could remember. Inside, it was unchanged from the last time she had been in it, and several times before that. Taking a lamp from outside, she used it to light the two lamps that hung from the walls, which, over the years, had given her more than enough light to read by. With a yawn, she sank onto the bed, setting her sword on the blanket beside her. Her clothes clung to her skin, and she wanted nothing more than to be rid of them. In the wardrobe in the corner that loomed as high as a ceiling, she found an old tunic that was far too big for her. Quickly shedding her layers of soggy clothes, she shrugged the tunic over her head, and felt the familiar tickle of soft wool on the tops of her knees as she straightened the garment out. Morning wasn't far off, and she did not feel she had the willpower left in her to correct her hair, which was plastered to her face and neck in dank strands. Instead, she lay down and curled up on the bed, burying her face into a pillow. The familiar scent of it lulled her into a deep sleep.

She had slept well into the morning, and woke to the sounds of pots and pans banging together, plates and silverware ringing, and busy dwarves. Her limbs still felt heavy, and her skin felt clammy to the touch. She dressed slowly, and made an attempt to sort out her hair, but shrugged and left it to spill over her shoulders in unruly waves.

The entire inn was filled with the smell of frying bacon and ham, which made her realize how hungry she actually was. As she descended the stairs, she saw her father sitting in a chair by the hearth, alone. One elbow rested on the arm of the chair, and his head rested on the arm. His silvery hair hanging down, obscuring part of his face. She went to him first, and touched his hand, "Father?"

He took a deep breath and turned his head to look at her, "There had better be a good reason as to why I bothered to risk myself for them." his eyes left hers to gaze into the fire, "If not for my daughter being in their company... I may have been tempted to turn my back, and let fate run its course."

She raised her eyebrows, "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong?" he laughed half-heartedly, "No. Nothing is wrong. But you must tell me your dwarves are not staying long."

"They are not _my_ dwarves. They just have a favour to ask of you, that is all."

"That is all?" he shook his head, "That does not seem to be all."

He raised a slender hand and motioned at the archway into the dining room.

Silwen sighed, "I will ask Thorin to speak with you today, and we will be gone tomorrow morning."

A long silence grew between them, and before she moved to leave him, Silwen asked, "What became of the Orc pack?"

A wicked smile took over his solemn face, "It just so happened that Lord Elrond had heard of an Orc pack near his borders and was hunting them. I led the pack right to him. It is safe for me to say that none survived his attack."

"If you say so," she said as she walked away from him.

The smells coming from the kitchen made her mouth water. Standing in the archway, she had stumbled onto quite the scene. The dwarves had completely taken over the kitchen and dining room. There were two tables, on which there were platters, plates and bowls stacked high with breads, and meats and succulent looking pastries. Silwen knew her father did not eat meat often at all, so was surprised he even had such foods, which led her to believe that the odd Ranger must still pass by. Despite the tables being full already, several dwarves were still cooking, while others were going through the pantries. Bilbo the halfling had joined in on the cooking, She even saw Fili and Kili climb out of the wine cellar bearing an oaken cask. Thorin stood off to the side, simply watching and smoking his pipe. Crossing the room, she nearly knocked a plate of sausages out of Bofurs hands, and jumped to the side, making Oin spill some tea on the floor. Apologizing to both dwarves, she carefully hurried to stand beside Thorin, "Everyone rested well?"

He exhaled a puff of smoke, "Aye."

"You should show my father your map," she suggested carefully, "While his decent mood lasts."

Thorin took a long pull on his pipe, and, after exhaling, said, "Your father is simply tolerating us then? Like any other elf would?"

Silwen crossed her arms, "No, its just that he lives alone. And suddenly having the presence of thirteen dwarves and a halfling in his home is a lot for him to... absorb."

Thorin continued to smoke, "Is he not joining us?"

"No," she fought back a yawn, "He much prefers the company of his books."

The company managed to fill every bare space on the tables with plates, and all began to find their way to the chairs around the tables. Silwen departed from Thorins side to seat herself at a chair between Ori and Dwalin. Giving each dwarf a greeting and a smile, she looked over the meal hungrily. She had not been presented such a meal in a long time, and was eager to eat her fill. Thorin was the last to seat himself, and the moment he did so, the company began their meal, creating quite the clamour as they did so. Proper manners did not seem to be something they expressed as they ate. Silwen quickly filled her plate for fear of the dwarves eating everything before she had the chance to get her own share. Fili had gotten up and stood at the cask, filling several cups with dark wine in one hand, with one of the pastries in the other. Everyone, including Bilbo and Silwen, received a cup filled to the brim with wine. Before she really knew what was happening, various items of food were tumbling through the air between tables and more often than not, colliding with a dwarf. She scooted back in her chair and bent around her cup of wine, hoping that the airborne food would miss her. Beside her, Ori was taking pastries and flinging them across the room at Kili, who was busy tossing apple slices at Balin, who looked especially grumpy when one stuck in his beard. The dwarves were roaring with laughter, and joking and yelling back and forth to each-other. They were so loud that Silwen knew her own thoughts were lost in the noise somewhere.

Even though it was barely past noon, the dwarves were drinking heartily, and merrily. One or two short songs had even been sung. Most of the food had been eaten, or abandoned on the floor. The tables were sticky with splashes of wine, and a haze of smoke hung in the air. Silwen had occupied herself with listening to the dwarves. Fili was telling a story about how he once saved Kili from being attacked by a wolf when they were younger, "He had left behind his bow, and only had a little knife! I had thought he had been bit with the way he was squealing!" He nudged his brother with his elbow.

Kili gave his brother a look, "Aye, but you forget about the time with the bear..."

The two of them poked fun at each other back and forth for some time, while walking around making sure everyone's cup was full.

Beside her, Ori mumbled, "I do wish I was a good fighter."

Silwen shifted a bit in her chair, "Why is that?"

The young dwarf shrugged, "Then I would have stories like theirs."

"Oh," she raised her cup to her lips and emptied it, then said, "I have a feeling that you will have a great story to tell when this quest is done."

Looking over to him, she saw a leather-bound book opened before him, with a half filled page of neat text. She reached over to it and brushed the rough pages with a few fingertips, "What's this?"

The young dwarf looked down at her hand, "Well, its... its how I will tell my story."

He pulled the book away from her hand, and thumbed through the pages, looking for something. Pages filled with a small cursive text and pages filled with drawings flashed by, until he stopped them at a certain page, and turned the book to face her, looking anywhere but her face.

Searching his expression, she noticed how flushed his cheeks and ears had become, and with a smile, looked down at the book. Her mouth fell open and her breath caught in her throat. She was looking at herself, there, on the page. She brushed her fingers over the drawing, with her other hand moving to cover her gaping mouth. Every little detail was nearly perfect, down to the way the light crossed over her throat and collarbone.

Ori's voice was in her ear, "Do you like it?"

His question faded to the back of her mind when she felt a hand on her shoulder, so she quickly slammed the book shut and turned to see Kili smiling down at her, "More wine?" he asked.

Before she could answer, Fili's voice came from the cellar, "Ale! I found some ale!"

The dwarves voices all rose in yells and shouts in cheerful reply. However, she noticed one dwarf was not present. The leader of their company was missing from the room. _Good_, she thought, _he went to speak with my father. _

She raised an eyebrow as she looked back at Kili, "I wouldn't mind some of that ale."

He nodded and hurried away. Ori had tucked the book back under his arm, and had gotten up. Silwen tried to meet his eyes, but he did not look at her, not even out of the corner of his eye, or over his shoulder as he walked away. Kili returned shortly, carrying two tankards that dripped foam over his hands as he sat down next to her, plunking one in front of her with a thud and splash of golden ale.

The dwarf had his ale raised up, and sparkling eyes on her. Taking the tankard in two hands, she raised it to his with a laugh, "Cheers!" they said in unison and they both drank long and deep. Silwen set her tankard down before he did, and used the back of her hand to wipe the foam off of her lips. Kili slammed his tankard on the table, sloshing foamy ale everywhere. His nose had a dab of foam on it, which made Silwen laugh when she noticed it. His face suddenly became serious, "What?" he asked before dragging his sleeve over his short beard and mouth.

Silwen smiled and nudged closer to him, drawing her sleeve over her hand, "You have a little..." she swiped the foam from the tip of his nose, "something there."

The dwarfs face went from serious to surprised, then quickly back to bright and giddy, "Oh, thank you. I can't say I would have noticed."

All of a sudden, the room quieted down as Bofur started a tune on his flute, which turned into another quick, rowdy drinking song. Both Kili and Silwen had turned to Bofur, who stomped his way to the table top keeping in time with the tune with his boots as he did so. Dwarves were stomping, clapping, laughing, and singing along with Bofur in his song. Fili and Nori had also gotten on the table, their boots sending morsels of food flying through the air as they danced around clumsily. Beside her, Kili was roaring with laughter, tankard in hand. Silwen too, had her tankard in her hand and found herself humming along with Bofur's tune. The song ended with a chorus of yells and tankards banging together, but Bofur was not ready to quit. He took a long drink before pressing his flute back to his lips, and this time, Silwen noticed Dwalin had a small fiddle in his hand, and the two dwarves were ready to play. As they began the song, Silwen noticed Fili jump from one table to the table her and Kili were sitting at, his eyes moving from hers to Kili's and with a confident smile and a nod, he knelt down in front of her, hand outstretched, "You should dance with me."

Silwen pushed her chair back, hands raised, "I do not think-"

Before she could get the words out, Fili had her by the wrists and Kili had jumped out of his chair and was lifting her up onto the table, despite her unwillingness. Over the loudness of the room, she shouted, "I cannot!"

But it seemed that Fili was not going to hear it, as he took her hand in his and set his other hand on her back, saying, "There really are no steps! You will see!"

He began to lead, spinning her about, and pulling her with him as he danced (somewhat clumsily over all of the food and attempting to avoid hitting tankards), and somehow managed to match the music while he did so. She did not believe she was dancing, for her was far to worried about falling or kicking over someone's ale. Gloin, who was sitting on the table, called out, "Boy, who taught ya to dance? Ya can hardly lead the lass!"

Fili paused a moment to glare at Gloin, and for a brief moment his hands had lifted off of her. In that short moment, another hand took hold of her waist, and pulled her away from Fili, spinning her in a circle before stopping her. Kili had gotten up, and was determined to do better than his elder brother. He smiled at her as the guided her around the table quickly, "I won't drop you off the table if that it what you are worried about."

And he didn't. Instead, he spun her, and swung her around easily, and never missed a step, or a beat in the song. She was almost oblivious to the dwarves (and halfling) all watching as they sang and drank. Her throat was dry from laughing and letting the odd surprised scream out when Kili lifted her off her feet, and she expected him to drop her. He was laughing just as hard as she was, clearly enjoying himself, and shaming his brother a bit. When the song ended, he let go of her, and they both stood on the table, facing each-other, breathless. Bofur and Dwalin hopped off of the tables, and found their tankards once again. Kili too, hopped off of the table, but instead of heading for his tankard, he looked up at her, hands on his hips, "Are you coming down off of that table? Or shall I come back up?"

Silwen shook her head and jumped off of the table, expecting to land on the solid floor safe and sound. Instead, she found herself held tight in Kili's arms as he caught her, her face pressed close against his neck. With a laugh, he removed his arms from around her and set her on her feet. Silwen tossed some hair over her shoulder, "I did warn you."

Kili raised an eyebrow and leaned against the table beside her, "About what?"

"That I do not dance!" she exclaimed, grabbing her tankard from behind Kili, and taking a drink, "I'm sure I looked like a fool."

"But you had fun..." he reasoned, "what you looked like matters not."

Silwen lowered her eyes to look into the depths on her tankard, "I see that dwarves care more for fun than most else."

Kili nodded exuberantly, his hair bouncing and falling into his eyes, but still he grinned. She had begun to really think that it was very rare that he wasn't smiling, or at least had a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Thorin, who had left some time ago, still hadn't returned, and her father had not even entered the dining room. She was glad that Thorin had left to talk with her father, but did not like that it was taking so long and that Thorin had not even returned for the council of Balin or any of the other dwarves. That most of all had her deeply concerned. Finishing the last of her ale, she said to Kili, "I will be right back." and set her tankard back on her table before leaving the smoky dining room.

In the main room, she had found that the fire in the hearth, which Silevon normally kept burning well, had died down to embers. As she passed, she plucked a log from where they were stacked at the side of the heart and tossed it in, upsetting the embers and sending sparks floating upwards.

Carelessly, she plucked one of the dwarves coats off of one of the many wrought-iron hooks embedded into the wall, shoved her arms into it and shrugged it over her shoulders before going outside. The fur on it was comforting against her neck and face, and tickled when she opened the door and the air that rushed in ruffled it softly.

Easing the heavy door shut behind her, she looked around, expecting to see Thorin and her father standing just outside, bent over the map. Her brow furrowed as she scanned the cleared yard, and saw nothing – with the exception of the two resident horses and trio of cows, all relaxed in the fading light of the afternoon in their respective paddocks.

Wondering where the two men might have gone to talk, she wandered across the yard and into the short, prickly trees that grew near the river. The underbrush snagged and grabbed at her legs and the hem of the coat, forcing her to pick a more forgiving (and slower) path through it. When she was younger, running through this was never a challenge, and she never thought twice about it. She had to stop once or twice to pull her hair off of where it had caught on a tree. Her destination proved difficult to get to, but she knew it was going to be worth it. Stepping out of the thick brambles and bushes, and scraggly trees (dragging the hem of the coat with her) she smiled as she looked down upon the small, clear, pure creek that ran down from the hill and into the river. It wove between, around and over smooth cobblestones. Dusk always came early down here, with the river-hills looming up on either side, and the trees filtering what was left of the sunlight into fine little golden tendrils. The water sparkled wherever any of the light touched it. The longer she stared, the more she believed that the sparkles danced.

She sat on a large grey stone that rose from the dirt, and pulled the coat closer around her, and gazed into the sparkling water. In the days when she still lived here, this was where she came to think, rest, and be alone. This time however, she did not know what brought her here.

Silwen did not know if she was avoiding Ori's affectionate stares, the drinking, the noise the dwarves managed to create, or the way Kili talked to her. Perhaps she was avoiding all of it, even she did not have answers for herself.

Until the tendrils of sunlight became scarce, she sat there, perched on the large stone, gazing into the water below her. She was jolted back to reality by the sound of snapping twigs and brush crunching under heavy boots. As she got to her feet, she turned and saw Kili trudging through the brush, bare forearms held out in front of him pushing branches and rough twigs away from his face. He stumbled out onto the bank with a grunt, and brushed dead leaves off of himself, "Strange place to hide, isn't it?"

"And who is to say I am hiding?" she asked him, "...how did you even know I was here?"

He looked up at her, "Well, you left enough of a path, and... well... I may have watched you disappear into this brush..."

Silwen smiled faintly, "I see."

Kili nodded and sat down on the bank of the creek, boots hanging over the steep edge, "Are you going to sit down with me?"

So, she did. She sat down next to him with her legs hanging over the edge, legs crossed at the ankle, "Why did you come here, Kili?"

The dwarf shrugged, "I was curious to see what could possibly be back here."

Silwen raised an eyebrow, and he sighed, "And I just wanted to talk to you more."

She nodded and instead of looking at him, looked down at her hands in her lap. Her hair fell from behind her ear, creating a barrier between them, and she had no intention to put it back into place. A foreboding silence grew between them. She could feel her heart hammering away in her chest, and heard it beating in her ears. She felt a light touch on her hair, and her breath stopped in her throat as he tucked her hair back over her ear, hand falling to her shoulder, "Silwen?"

His voice was warm and soft, and his breath whispered on her cheek. She raised her head and looked over to him. Sitting there, they were the same height and looked each-other in the eye.

"What is it?" she was suddenly very aware of his hand resting on her shoulder, the weight of it, and the warmth seeping through the coat and into her skin.

"Just..." he seemed to struggle to find the right words, then simply said, "Thank you for everything you've done for us."

His hand fell from her shoulder to his lap. With a smile she laid her hand on his, "It's not me you should be thanking, it was Gandalf's idea to include me, and if it were not for my father..." she paused briefly as his hand moved a bit under hers, "We would have all been killed."

His hand turned under hers and he curled his strong fingers up between hers, the rough skin rasped over her own softer skin. She looked down at their hands for a moment, then back to him, her mouth hung open as if she were trying to find words.

"But you are the reason all of those good things happened, can you not see that? All you have done is save us. If it was your doing or your fathers, it matters not - those things happened because you chose to join us." His thumb stroked along her fingers as he spoke, and his eyes searched her face for her reaction, his eyes dark and deep in thought, trying to read her.

She finally took a deep breath, and smiled at him, "I am glad I have helped you."

Kili had nothing more to say, but instead, pulled his hand away from hers and wrapped that arm around her back pulled her closer. She did not resist, or object, and leaned back on him to rest her head on his shoulder. When she looked up at him, he was smiling softly down at her, "That's Fili's coat, isn't it?"

A smirk played at the corners of her lips, "It might be."

"It's too big for you."


	6. Risks

The two of them had sat there for an hour or more, few words were said, and neither of them moved much. Silwen felt calm and safe there – his warmth and the steady rise and fall of his chest next to her lulled her into a state of tranquillity. She was about to close her eyes when he shifted next to her, taking the support of his arm away from her back, and turned to look at her, "I wouldn't mind another ale."

She was forced to shift her body so she could sit comfortably, "Perhaps we should go back, I do wonder if my father has deciphered Thorins map."

Kili's lips pulled into a grin as he got up, taking her firmly by the elbows to pull her up with him. He offered her his arm with a warm smile and nod, and she placed her arm in his. Although, to weave through the trees and brambles, she was forced to let go and grasp his fingers as he trudged in front of her, careful to not send any branches whipping back into her face.

* * *

Once inside, Silwen returned Fili's coat to the hook she took it from earlier, while Kili sauntered back into the quiet dining room. In fact, the whole building was eerily quiet, it did not seem like there was a large company of dwarves in it at all. Upon walking into the room, she saw her father's strong back facing her, and he was bent over the map on the table, Thorin sat beside him, brooding over a full tankard of ale. Nearly all of the dwarves had seated themselves, though a few stood close behind the others. All of their eyes were on Silevon and the map. Kili was standing behind his brother, his face was solemn.

Silwen leaned against the stonework of the archway, crossing her arms over her chest. Her father seemed to not notice her presence, but she knew that there was little around him he wasn't aware of. His voice was ominous in the silence, "Thorin Oakenshield... if you do manage to get to this door in time to open it, there is still the danger that Smaug presents."

Thorin looked up at Silevon, eyes sparkling, "He has not been seen, or heard of, in sixty years. No one knows if he still lives, or is still inside Erebor."

Silevon shook his head, long hair swaying on his back, "I fear you will awaken him, and send his wrath upon us all once again."

Thorin growled, "I will not forsake this quest. The map and key came to me, and I intend to claim what belongs to my people before someone else takes it for their own."

"Thorin," Silevon took a deep breath, obviously trying to swallow his frustration with the dwarf, "I am not telling you to turn back. I want you to think less about getting into Erebor, and more about what you will do once you are inside."

Thori'ns mouth twisted into a snarl, "Have you not heard what I have said? I mean to take back what is rightfully mine!"

Silevon's hands clenched the edge of the table, nails digging into the worn oak, "You will find only death inside that mountain unless you are more tactful! Think! Are you going to risk awakening that dragon? Have you imagined the ruin that he would bestow upon Middle Earth?"

Thorin pushed his chair back and drew closer to Silevon. Their eyes were locked on each-others, searching, prying, "I know what I am risking." Thorins voice was a low, throaty whisper.

Silevon jerked away from Thorin, and looked over the company, who all watched with pale faces, "But do you know _who_ you are risking?"

He did not give Thorin time to answer him, and strode out of the room, grabbing Silwen by the arm and pulling her with him. He did not say anything to her, nor did he look at her until he had drug her up the stairs and into his small study. Only when he had the door closed and a lamp lit did he turn to her. His eyes were cold, "Silwen," he said her name with no hint of compassion or tenderness, "do not go with him to Erebor."

She leaned her back against the door, "I must go. I gave Gandalf my word, and I will not go back on it."

Her father sank into his chair, and let his head fall into his hands, "The map contained moon runes, and they spoke of a hidden door into the mountain. Although, to use the door, one must be there at the last light of Durin's Day. Thorin barely has enough time to get there, and once he's there," he looked up at her, the lamplight danced across his flawless skin, and sparkled in his tired eyes, "there is no telling what he will awaken."

"There is more that you are not telling me, father." Silwen crossed the room and knelt next to him, taking his slender hand between hers, "What are you afraid of?"

He looked down at her, his face was unreadable, "Silwen, through all your adventures, you've been fortunate to come out of all of them unscathed. I fear Thorin would willingly throw your life away if it was what stood between him and Erebor. There is something cold in him that he does not see yet. And when he does, I fear that it would be too late."

She gave his hand a squeeze, "My life will never be in his hands in that way. The company would not allow such madness, almost as if I were one of their own I'm sure. They are all honest folk."

The elf drew his hand away from between hers, "If I could have things go the way I want them to, I would convince you to end this wandering that you've been doing and have a home. Since you left here, you have not had one."

She stood up and placed both hands on the desk, "I could not stand to spend every day in the same place, doing the same things day in and day out. I need to wander! This is the life I choose, and if it shall lead me to my doom, so be it."

Silevon was silent for a long while, gazing into the nothingness behind Silwen's shoulder. At length, he finally spoke, "If you must leave with them in the morning, promise me you will be wary of Thorin. I do not trust him."

She gave him a reassuring smile, "If it will put you at ease, I will do what I can. And when it is all over, the first thing I will do is come see you."

A small weight seemed to come off of his shoulders, as if he had just taken off a cold, wet, heavy cloak after travelling in it for some days. He looked up to her once again, "There is one more thing I would like to ask of you: do not spend more time than necessary in Mirkwood. If you would be found by the elves that live there, they would not take kindly to a company of dwarves, especially Thorin Oakenshield, treading over their borders. They have many eyes all over the forest, and many would not hesitate to loose a quiver of arrows into a trespasser, not that any of them would need so many arrows to kill you."

She nodded briskly, "I understand."

She turned to leave, and as her hand grasped the door-knob, Silevon spoke again, "Be wary and tireless, for those who dwell in the forest are both, and once you find yourself being hunted, there is no hope to escape, not in their realm."

His voice had such finality in it that she feared to question him, and vowed to herself that she would not lead the company into the clutches of the elves. She did not know if she should have said anything or if saying nothing was best. Deciding on the latter, she left the room and closed the door gently behind her. The dwarves were still (for the most part) silent. Some had even migrated from the dining room to stand or sit near the hearth with a pipe in one hand and a tankard in the other. Thorin was leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed and chin tucked into his chest. His dark hair had fallen all around his face, obscuring most of it in shadow.

When she walked by, he glared at her from under his dark brows. She could feel his eyes following her across the room as she went to sit on the floor by the fire, for all the of the chairs were taken. Crossing her legs in front of her, she said, "I believe it's best that we leave at dawn."

Many of the dwarves looked at her questioningly, and Dori asked, "Have we over stayed our welcome? We did clean the kitchen, you know."

"No, Dori, you are still welcome here." She shrugged, "We need every minute we can get to arrive at the door, and I would much rather be there early by a few days, than having to run to be there in time – wouldn't you?"

"Aye," the dwarf responded, "and what of the provisions you promised?"

Silwen ran her fingers through her hair, "Take only what you must," she paused to narrow her eyes and look at the group around her, "and I do mean it."

Thorin had moved away from the wall as she spoke with Dori, and was standing behind his company, arms crossed, "You will continue on with us then?"

Silwen could barely see him, "I am not one to go back on my word, and I gave Gandalf my word."

"Is that your only reason for staying?" He stepped to the side a bit, so they could fully see each-other.

Silwen paused, and looked around at the bright faces around her, Kili was smiling at her reassuringly, as were Fili and Bofur, Bilbo watched her with a curiosity unique to him, Ori's face was frozen in hopeful anticipation, and Thorin, well, his eyes were grim and cold, but somewhere in them she could see a glowing ember of yearning and hope, something that was warm and... good. "No, I suppose it isn't my only reason."


	7. In the Shadow of the Misty Mountains

Several days of long, tiresome walking was behind them by the time they could see the expanse of the Misty Mountains stretching out before them. Once the clouds decided to disperse, the jagged peaks could be seen in hues of blue and purple on the horizon, and (if the sun was just right) shining white peaks could be seen. Travel was slow for the company of Thorin Oakenshield. Each dwarf (or hobbit, or half-elf) had filled every crevice of every pack with food and other necessities that had been lost with the ponies, which made the supposedly simple task of walking far more strenuous and tiresome. At night, no one stayed up long after supper, and the story telling and singing had slowly died off. Despite having rested and ate well in Silevon's home, and discovering new hope, the morale of the company was dull.

Silwen found herself walking with Fili and Kili more often than not, for their spirits were not so easily dampened. The two young dwarves were eager to cross over the mountains, she had learned. They had only ever heard stories of the greatness of Erebor and the City of Dale, and wished for nothing more than to walk the halls of their forefathers and help re-build Erebor to its former grandeur. She grew to want to walk through the hidden door alongside the brothers, and see their faces as they looked upon the once great city for the first time.

The dwarves had also asked her about her own past more, and in a kinder manner. She told them what she knew, but when a dwarf (or Bilbo, for he had done much of the asking) asked about her family history, she could not answer. In the past, Silevon refused to tell her (despite how often she would ask or demand to know) anything about his lineage, along with her mothers. Questions even came up about Silevon and why he chose to live so far away from his own kin, and Silwen could only shrug or shake her head, for he never told her the truth.

Two nights prior to arriving in the shadow of the mountains, they made camp in a well sheltered hollow in the increasingly rocky earth. Two large, grey trees towered above them, providing a good shield from the chilly breeze that swirled down to mountains and nipped at their faces. Everyone set out their bedrolls and huddled in the fur of their cloaks, backs to the breeze. Silwen had changed her garb before leaving her fathers - replaced her thin leggings with laced leather pants, and leather bodice with a steel plate breastplate of elvish make that had been a gift from her father. She also traded in her former cloak for a heavier one, collared with soft fur. She felt that more protection from both the elements and weapons would be a wise choice at this point in the journey – especially since being hunted by Orcs short days ago.

Silwen looked up from her bedroll to see the silhouettes of Balin and Thorin bent over the map in Thorins hands. She had no doubts that they were planning the best and fastest way to get over the mountains. She had crossed the Misty Mountains only once before, several years ago. To her knowledge, there was only one path that was near them that they could take, and they would be forced to travel even closer to Rivendell to find it. She knew that was what they were debating – to go near Rivendell and risking being delayed by the elves, or attempt to pass through the mountains by another path.

She got up from her bedroll and joined Balin and Thorin on the hill. Thorin was in the middle of a declamation of his hate for elves, "... he is different. He trusts elves no more than we do. If we are found by other elves, they will try to stop us and steal this map and key from us!"

"I would not fear to assume," Silwen peered over Thorin's arm and pointed at the area just North of Rivendell, "that we could pass by Rivendell unseen if we cross North of the valley in the night."

"And if we get caught?" Thorin folded up the map as he spoke.

"They will not force us into their valley... not Elrond's folk."

"How can you be so sure?" It was Balin speaking this time.

"Lord Elrond's people are not like the elves in Thranduil's halls." Silwen saw anger flash in Thorins eyes and anticipated his next question.

"How do you know this?"

"Because," she laid a hand on Thorins arm, "Before we left, my father warned me about the elves of Mirkwood. I have not encountered them for myself, but all I know is that they are dangerous."

Balin was shaking his head, "We cannot take the chance Thorin."

Thorin turned away from them and strode down the hill, "We can, and we will."

Silwen turned to Balin and looked at him apologetically. The dwarf "harrumphed" into his long white beard, and looked up at her, "I do not understand why Thorin agrees with you so easily."

She patted the dwarfs shoulder, "I do not understand either," she said with a smile, "Come, lets go eat."

Together, they walked back down into the hollow to where the rest of the company was. There was a small fire already lit, the kindling was just starting to burn. Thorin had demanded that their cook fires be kept smaller and put out once everyone had eaten. He also wanted two on watch at a time, for he had grown even more wary. At first Silwen had thought these changes were simply because he feared they were still being hunted by Orcs, but upon more thought, realized that he grew more uneasy the closer they were to the Misty Mountains. He was rightful uneasy – Silwen had encountered Orcs far too many times in the shadows of the mountains to be at ease. Her armour never left her body, and her swords and bow were never out of reach. She had even fallen asleep the previous night with her arms wrapped around her sword, cradling it close to her body.

She overheard the dwarves debating watches for the night, and it seemed that no one wanted the first watch, everyone was too weary to stay up so long into the night. Silwen had taken the second watch the previous night with Bifur, so the watch was long and quiet. The dwarf had an injury that damaged him in such a way that he could only speak dwarvish, and Silwen knew no dwarvish.

Walking up to the circle of dwarves debating over watches, she shouldered between Fili and Gloin, "I will take the first watch, if need be."

"Aye," said Gloin with a brisk nod, "there be a need."

From behind her came Thorin's mighty, dominating voice, "I will take first watch as well. Ori and Gloin, you can take second, and Dori," he stepped into the circle, eyes smouldering into Dori, "You and Bombur can have the last watch."

It seemed that he grew tired of the continuous bickering that always arose with the question of watches each night. His smouldering eyes passed quickly over each of them before he strode promptly away. He disappeared into the darkness between the two grey trees looming over the hollow.

When supper had been finished, Silwen shouldered her bow and quiver and took two bowls from Bofur before heading up to where Thorin had disappeared. She hung her quiver from a broken branch and rested her bow against the silvery trunk of the tree, "Thorin?"

She squeezed carefully between the two trees to find him leaning against the grey trunk of the tree on her right. She offered him his share of supper, and he took it politely without saying a word. Silwen smiled halfheartedly at him before sitting down, back against the other tree, with her legs crossed and eating her stew. Fili and Kili had hunted down some rabbits earlier in the day, and everyone was thankful for the few extra morsels of meat. She was nearly finished before she decided on some words to say to break the silence, "Crossing over the Misty Mountains is going to be slow and difficult. And dangerous."

Thorin set his bowl down on a rock, "Yes, even though we have a trail to follow, I fear that at times, it will be easy to lose. We barely have time to spare. Getting lost is not an option."

"We must be careful, and keep our eyes open." She finished her supper and set the bowl down near her feet, then looked up at Thorin, "Did my father warn you at all about Mirkwood?"

Thorin finally looked down at her, his hair falling over his shoulder to cast a shadow over his face, "All he told me was to not tarry in the forest. Why? What did he tell you?"

"He warned me against the elves," she started, "With such malice I had not seen in him before. I still do not really understand why there was such a fear in his voice when he spoke to me. They are _his_ _kin_, after all."

Thorin gaze lingered on the dark, hazy, jagged peaks for a moment, before saying, "Maybe that is why he wanted to tell you to fear them."

Silwen was about to ask him what he meant when he sat down beside her, and said, "He knows what they are like better than most, and that is why he hates them." He pulled his cloak around himself, and continued, "The Elf King, Thranduil," he spat the name, "would do everything in his power to stop us if he learned we were near or in his realm. I cannot risk it – he is a powerful elf. Cold and greedy, too, like all elves."

"My father lived in Mirkwood," Silwen said softly, "He told me he left after he met my mother. He never told me much about my mother, or any of my lineage."

Thorin studied her briefly, "Maybe it's best that you don't know. Your father is unlike any elf I ever knew. Whatever reasons he had to hide your history from you... I'm sure they were to protect you."

"What could be so horrible?"

"The elves."

Silwen remained silent, unwilling to further the conversation, and pushed the frustrating thoughts away, occupying herself with scraping bits of dirt and dried gore off of the engraving on her fighting knives with her finger nails. As the sun sank behind the horizon and the moon began its ascent into the sky, she felt sleep pulling at the edge of her consciousness, nagging at her eyelids, and taking over her body. She rolled to her feet, shaking out her braid and letting the wind wash over her. Thorin glanced at her briefly as she shouldered her quiver and took her bow in her hand. She found herself walking around the hollow, around the company. The fire had been stomped out and was only smoking, and the whole company appeared to be asleep. The cool wind shooed away her sleepiness temporarily, and awakened her senses. When she returned to the two gnarled trees, Thorin hadn't moved. He still stood there – back rested against the tree, arms crossed over his chest. He looked down at her, "Where did you go?"

She sat down against the tree again, "Just for a walk to wake myself up."

"Aye... it seems the rest at your fathers was not enough of a rest. For many of us."

"Oh Thorin! I am not complaining. I am accustomed to life on the road, but not accustomed to being hunted by an Orc pack."

"None of us are."

Silwen pulled her hair over her shoulder, as she looked up at him, not afraid to let him see her pointed ear, "I do not hope that we will have to be accustomed to being hunted by the time this journey is over."

He uncrossed his arms and knelt down next to her, "The road to Erebor will not be easy, but I am sure we will not have to be running from Orcs the whole way there."

"What if it's not the Orcs I fear?"

He seemed to sense that the elves were still on her mind, for his eyes lit up with burning hatred, though he did not mention them, "If you are weary, sleep."

"It is my re-"

"We need your help, Silwen. I was wrong to not trust you. You know these lands better than any of us. I need you to lead us past Rivendell, and I would much rather have you well rested to do so."

"I will be fine, Thorin. This watch will be over soon enough."

He unclasped his cloak and dropped it on her lap, and ended the argument by giving her a look that made her feel small, like a child. With a sigh, she bunched it up into a pillow and lay down. She pulled her own cloak over her body and pulled her feet under it. The fur of Thorins cloak was soft on her face, and filled her nose with a scent that was earthy, heady, and smoky. The scent of it lulled her senses, and she allowed sleep to take hold of her and pull her far away and into darkness.


	8. A Path, More Like a Track

No one had made an effort to wake Silwen from where she lay curled up at the base of the tree. She slept there until the first rays of the morning light danced across her eyelids. She jerked awake, and she watched a puff of air leave her lips. The nights were growing considerably colder, and the days seemed gloomier. A blanket of heavy, dreary clouds was laid over the sky, diluting the usual brilliance of the sunrise to a monotonous palette of grey.

A shiver coursed through her body as she got up from the cool ground. After shaking out Thorins cloak, she laid it over her arm and gathered up her bow and quiver. Looking down upon the company, she realized that she, once again, awoke before anyone else. She noticed Bombur sitting on the edge of the company alongside Dori, both of their backs where facing her.

She nearly tip toed to the edge of the cluster of sleeping dwarves and sat down with Thorins cloak folded haphazardly in her lap, and it was there she waited. One by one, the company started to wake up, and slowly get to their feet and begin to prepare to be off. Thorin, as was usual, was one of the first to be up and about. Silwen got up off of the ground with a yawn and walked over to Thorin, "Thank you... it was very pleasant of you to do such a thing for me."

He took the cloak from her and furled it around his broad shoulders, as he buckled it at his throat, he said, "You do not have to be so thankful all the time, it's not as though you are a guest, or a burden."

She thought she saw his eyes flicker over to where Bilbo was toiling with his bedroll. Since joining the company, she knew that Thorin would rather Bilbo stayed home. She heard from Balin that Bilbo was Gandalfs choice for the fourteenth member of the company, and that Gandalf himself didn't entirely know why he chose Bilbo. But, on the other hand, Silwen imagined that Gandalf didn't really know why he chose her to take his place, above all of the other men, elves and dwarves he knew.

"He tries," Silwen found herself watching Bilbo, "he really does try to gain your favour. Do you know that?"

"He is lost, Silwen." Thorin shook his head, "He shouldn't have come. Not only is he a risk to himself, but he is a risk to everyone else."

The hobbit finally got his bedroll tied up and pack straightened out, he nearly forgot the small sword on the ground, but remembered as he was walking away and quickly scooped it up in his arms again. Silwen grabbed Thorins thick shoulder and stared directly into his eyes, "I will keep an eye on him Thorin, you need not worry about him."

She gave him a small smile before jogging to catch up to Bilbo who was walking briskly to meet up with the rest of the company who were nearly ready to be on the road. "Good morning Mr. Baggins!" she announced as she fell in stride with him.

"Hm? Oh... good morning." His eyes were tired still, and his posture spoke of weariness.

"Still not quite accustomed to life on the road?"

"No... not quite. There are times when I miss my warm bed, and a roof over my head. The stay at your fathers was quite pleasant, however."

Silwen looked down at the hobbit (who was shorter than her by several inches, something she was not used to), "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." She smiled at him, "Have you ever been on a mountain?"

The hobbit shook his head, "I fear I have not."

"Well then Mr. Baggins, prepare yourself for we will see our next sun rise over the peaks of the Misty Mountains! We have a long day ahead of us, come now!"

The hobbit frowned and gave his walking stick a little spin, "Well, let's be off then."

The day passed quickly, for the sky was clear and the sun was warm, (but not too warm) and pleasant. Despite many of the company still being weary, their spirits all seemed to be lifted by the bright sun and high clouds. If that wasn't the reason for high spirits, Silwen then assumed that the dwarves were more bright because the Misty Mountains were becoming clearer as the day wore on. The mountains themselves were cold and grey, formed of dark, hard stone, and were, in fact, misty. A constant halo of fog lingered about the peaks of the mountains, which were jagged and pointy and appeared to be razor sharp from the ground. Once or twice, she caught Bilbo gazing up at the tall peaks with wide, shining eyes.

As the afternoon grew old, and the shadows began to lengthen, tension grew within the company. Silwen felt it like a cold hand hovering at the back of her neck. She hadn't been bothered to re-braid her hair since the previous night, so the feeling was especially unsettling. She finally said, "We will be the closest we have yet to be to Rivendell soon. Twilight is going to be the best time for us to pass. The shadows are known to play tricks – even on elven eyes."

There was an audible "thump" as Thorin's pack hit the ground, "We can rest for a bit then."

"No."

Thorins eyes burned into her and he raised his eyebrows as if to say, "_Excuse me?_"

Silwen swallowed hard, "The timing will be perfect if we keep on as we have been. We cannot tarry, but there is no need to rush yet."

Thorin grunted something as he re-shouldered his pack. He motioned at his company to continue on, letting Silwen take the lead and placing himself near the rear of the company.

Night came without any disruptions, of any kind. The moment the company found themselves on a winding path that cut through the stone, an unseen weight was lifted off of each and every shoulder. The path wove and twisted up high to a rough ledge of stone that ran for how far, no one could tell in the darkness. At most, it was wide enough for two dwarves to walk abreast.

"This is the road?" Gloin asked.

"A path I'd say!" Bofur lit his pipe as he walked.

They continued to walk in silence another couple minutes and rounded a bend in the path, which narrowed even more. "No." It was Bofur again, "More like a track!"

"We can't sleep on this!" Nori grumbled as he scuffed his boot on the stone, spraying rough gravel about.

"Nor will you have to tonight." Silwen pointed ahead of them to where the stone ledge widened a great deal into a slab of stone plenty wide enough for the company to make a comfortable camp on – and that is exactly what they did. Routinely, a fire was lit, watches were dealt out and a supper was made.

Silwen set her things down next to Kili, and sat down facing him, "That could not have went any better," she crossed her legs and rested her elbows on her knees, "Elrond must have his attention turned elsewhere."

Kili looked up from the knife he was fiddling with in his lap, "That's good, isn't it?"

She shrugged, "Good for us. Someone else out there is not quite so fortunate as us tonight."

"Could be be that there is more Orcs?"

"I hope not. That would mean that we are still being hunted."

A bit of fear flashed in his dark eyes, "I don't understand what cause Orcs would have to hunt us."

Close behind Silwen, Balin was standing, "Thorin might be enough cause for Orcs to hunt us. I'm sure they crave revenge as much as any other race."

Silwen turned and pulled her hair out of the way so she could see Balin, "What do you mean? Revenge?"

"He means," it was Thorin, he was approaching them, hands clasped behind his back, "that the Orcs may still remember that I defeated one of their strongest... and want revenge."

Silwen was excited at the chance to learn more about Thorin, who was always so guarded and secretive, "Who was this Orc you defeated?"

"Azog." Balin made a sour face as he spoke, "Azog the Defiler. We challenged the Orcs for Moria, for we had no where to go. At the gates of Moria, we became leaderless, for Azog vowed to end the line of Durin and started with our King. In the moment that we were about to lose all hope and give up, Thorin stood up alone, battle weary and as distraught as the rest of us and faced the most terrible foe. The fight between them as brutal, but Thorin proved to Azog that Durin's sons were not going to be so easily put down and defeated. In the struggle, he lost his shield and picked up an oaken branch, and used it to hold of Azog's blows, until chance arose for him to give the Defiler enough of a wound to send him slinking away. That is all I dare think about, it was a red day."

Thorin laid a hand on Balin's shoulder, and nodded slowly, "Aye. It was not a glorious day."

He slowly looked at Kili, Silwen, and Fili (who had silently joined them) and said, "I hope that none of you must see a day such as that day." The dwarf turned away and walked off into the darkness, alone.

Silwen managed a deep breath and tried to decipher what it was that she saw in Balin's and Thorin's faces. She had never seen anything like it before in her life. By just looking into their eyes, she felt loss, as if something or someone that meant more than all else to her was suddenly gone, forever. There was also hatred, a strong, powerful, deep hatred, and she didn't have to guess that it was all directed at the Orcs. She had seen a mighty fear in Balin's face as he spoke, and she knew the memories were much to bear. There was another emotion, however – hope. She had to think on it for some time before dawning on a conclusion: both dwarves had hope that Thorin would become the Kings that the dwarves had lost. Thorin was determined to be the King that he was expected to be and Balin, well, Balin would do anything to see it through.

Being so deep in her thoughts, she did not notice Kili staring at her until she looked up to try and see Thorin's figure on the edge of he camp.

"Your eyes the funniest thing when you are thinking." Kili said with a smile.

"Pardon me?"

"When you are deep in thought, like you just were, you squint your eyes, like this," he made the most ridiculous face, squinting his eyes and crinkling his nose, and his mouth turned up into a childish grin, "At first I thought you were in pain! But you were not, you were just thinking."

Silwen laughed quietly, and breathily, "I do hope I did not look like you did just now."

The dwarf smiled, "No... not quite!" he laughed and crossed his legs, "What were you thinking about?"

She rested her elbows on her knees once again, "When Balin was telling us about the battle at Moria, I saw things in his face, and Thorins, that I have never seen before. I've heard many peoples stories, but no ones eyes ever told as much as theirs did just then. At first..." she was combing knots out of her hair with her fingers, "at first I didn't quite understand."

Kili rubbed his short beard in thought, then said with a wistful smile, "I've heard that story once before, and even the second time, I cannot begin to think about what that day was like. But I much prefer their stories about Erebor. Those are the stories I like to try to imagine."

"Soon you will get to live them." She said this with a smile.

"Me and Fili, we grew up on Thorin's stories. Erebor..." his voice was filled with longing, "No matter how many stories he tells, I cannot begin to image it. I must see it for myself."

Silwen was untangling an especially difficult knot, "You will, soon enough."

He reached forward and stopped her hands, "Don't pull like that. Here..." He gently pulled the knot free.

She watched him with an eyebrow raised, then laughed, "I never knew a dwarf man would be so skilled with hair!"

He laughed as he smoothed the lock of hair, "Are you joking? Have you seen our beards?"

"I have, they are quite something indeed. But... why do you not braid your hair?"

He shrugged, "I don't want to, really. Without a beard, it is not the same."

"I see." She gathered her hair up and pulled it over her shoulder.

"Can I?" Kili edged closer to her, motioning at her hair.

"Can you what?" she asked.

"Braid your hair."

She laughed and turned around, and let her hair fall down her back,"You can try! It is most difficult more often than not."

She felt his hands rake through her hair, and tugging, seperating and twisting her hair.

He whispered, "Would you like to hear some of the stories, Silwen?"

"The stories about Erebor?"

"Yes."

"I would love to."

Long into the night, Silwen sat there, with her back to Kili as he braided, unravelled and re-braided her hair in different ways and whispered to her tales of the greatness of Erebor and everything that once was.


	9. Thunder and Living Stone

Silwen was hopeful for the sun to rise bright and brilliant for Bilbo, but she was disappointed for the sun rose behind a shroud of heavy cloud, casting a cold grey light over the world. Mist lingered all about them and it was especially thick where the path would weave its way down. The day became especially unsettling when she could only see three or four of the dwarves behind her. But, whenever the path curved upwards, the mist became thin, and when she would look over her shoulder, she could see the whole company behind her, which was comforting in a small way.

By noon, (or so they guessed, for the gloominess of the sunlight was nearly impossible to read) they found path was starting to climb upwards more than it ran straight or down, which, of course, meant that the mist became thinner and thinner. Soon enough, the path had began to run straight along the rocky edge of the mountain and they would look down onto a living blanket of white mist swirling beneath them. It appeared almost as a river, the way it followed the lay of the mountains and hills and stony precipices, but a river it was not, for it floated and tendrils of the mist were caught on the breeze and swept away. Silwen imagined that if she would ever see magic, it would look something like the mist did that day.

Bilbo trudged close behind her all day, followed by Thorin and then Kili and Fili, but most of the company was quiet for the most part of the day. Neither did they wish to stop for a moment, not even for lunch. Although it was unspoken, Silwen felt that the dwarves all wanted to be through the mountains as quickly as was possible.

The dreary greyness of the sky slowly began to turn the colour of dark steel, and the wind blew new, more threatening clouds over them. All too soon a terribly cold rain began to fall on them, quickly penetrating their clothing and chilling their bones.

"We must stop and wait this storm out!" Oin quickly protested.

"No." Thorin stopped the company briefly, "We have to continue until we find a safer place to stop. This path is no place to sit down and wait out a storm."

Silwen nodded in agreement with Thorin, the path was a narrow, slick ledge in the stone, "I am sorry, Oin. He is right, we are far too vulnerable here."

And so, they pressed on, even when night came, followed by a chilling gale and angry flashes of white lightning. With an especially powerful rumble of thunder, the mountain seemed to shake, throwing many of the dwarves off of their feet and grasping to each-other for fear of falling off of the narrow path.

"What was that!?" Fili shouted above the storm.

It seemed that no one knew the answer to his question, the only replies were shaking heads and "I haven't got an idea". Silwen led them on, and it almost seemed that the farther they trudged, the worst the storm grew. Again, the mountain trembled. Silwen fell to a knee and had to thrust out both of her hands to steady herself. Between the frequent flashes of lightning, she believed she could see the path turn in the shape of a horseshoe ahead of them. Another thing she saw was the mouth of a cave opposite of where they now stood. She got to her feet and pointed at it, squinting through the heavy rain, "The path doubles back just ahead! There is a cave over there! It shan't take long to get there! Come, now!"

She took a firm hold of a strap on Bilbo's pack and pushed him on gently in front of her, not wanting him to take an unfortunate fall. The thunder had grown awfully loud in her ears, and she almost did not hear the dwarves shouting behind her.

She raised her head and looked about her, squinting as the icy rain was blown into her eyes. She did not know what the dwarves were saying, nor what they had gotten so worked up over. Practically dragging Bilbo with her, she grabbed Thorins shoulder, "We cannot stop!"

"This is not simply a thunder storm Silwen!" he called over the thunderous booming.

Her mouth fell open, and before she could ask, Balin cried in a panic, "It's a thunder battle!"

"Stone giants!" several dwarves cried.

It was then that she saw what they all had seen. Figures of living stone brutally bashed and hammered at each-other with their limbs, and hurled massive stones through the air in all directions. There was no way of telling how many there were, not in the darkness, not through flashes of lighting. There was one or two close, and she did not know how many were farther away, tossing giant stones through the air.

She watched, petrified, frozen, immobilized, as a stone flew through the sky above them and shattered upon the side of the mountain as if it were a glass trinket. The shattered rock above them seemed to fall impossibly slow, for it was so large and massive. She cried out and pushed a stunned Bilbo in front of her as she ran as fast as she dared further down the path, hopefully out of harms way. She stole a glance over her shoulder to see the dwarves frantically trying to follow her. The mountain shook under her feet as the stone came down on the path, destroying it. Her heart jumped up into her throat, for she realized that only about half of the company was running towards her.

As the stone all fell away (with a good chunk of the path), she left Bilbo with Thorin and Bofur, who had reached safety already. She passed another few panic-stricken dwarves as she ran to where the path had been broken off. Her heart jumped again when she saw the rest of the company on the other side, just as panicked as the rest of the company. Kili was suddenly beside her, calling out to his brother, who must have been at the other side somewhere. At the sound of Kili's desperate voice, Thorin rushed to the edge of the path as well.

Silwen saw no way to get them across the gap, it was too far to jump across. A strike of lightning hit the mountain above them, blinding all of them for a moment. The moment was long enough that when the mountain trembled and lurched, the three of them, Silwen, Thorin, and Kili, all blindly took hold of each-other as they fell to the cold, wet stone in hopes that none would be tossed from the path and into the darkness below. A deafening cracking sound filled their ears as they clutched to each-other and the stone. It sounded as if the earth itself was splitting apart at the seams, and the seams were the Misty Mountains. Silwen loosened her grip on the strap of Kili's quiver as she got to her knees and tried to see around them, and identify the cracking sound.

A frightened cry escaped her lips as the mountain broke nearly in half precisely where the path had been wiped away. She could not tell if the stone they lay on was moving, but she watched the figures of the dwarves be pulled farther away.

Close beside her, Thorin was bellowing, "No!"

And on her other side, Kili was still calling out his brothers name.

In a flash of lightning, Silwen looked up to see that the mountain was not falling away, no. The mountain was _standing up_. She had lost track of where the rest of the company would have been, but she had a feeling they had all fallen off of the stone. She felt a lump rise in her throat through the fear in her chest.

None of them had moved from where they had fallen on the path. Above the thunder, she heard the cries of was was left of the company from somewhere far away, or so it seemed. She heard shaking, restrained sobs from somewhere close to her, and could only guess they were coming from Kili. She gathered her strength about her so as not to cry as she fumbled about in the darkness and finally found his hand, and threaded her fingers between his and squeezed hard.

Between flashes of lightning, she saw the stone giant that was once part of the mountain above them be assaulted by a relentless onslaught of stones smashing against its body. She watched it stumble into the horseshoe the mountains made and shook her head. She would not lose the rest of the company. As she released Kili's hand and got to her feet, the giant fell against the mountain. She broke into a sprint and found the company safe and sound, out of harms way, but all were devastated at the loss. She knew the path must have been destroyed where the giant fell against the mountain, and ran ahead.

She nearly fell to her knees as she saw the part of the company she had thought were lost grumbling, cursing and pulling each-other out of a pile of stone on the path. She yelled above the thunder, "Thorin! Thorin! They are here! And quite alright it seems!"

She helped the dwarves out of the stone that had covered them. Grabbing Fili's arm, she said, "We all thought you were lost!"

"We thought we were lost!" he replied as she pulled him free of the rubble.

"I am glad you are not." she said as she patted his shoulder.

The rest of the company, Thorin and Kili included, had now come, and could not believe the most fortunate event that had unfolded. Kili embraced his brother, burying his face into Fili's shoulder and Thorin watched his nephews with a look in his eyes that was warm and rather full of love. Silwen smiled as she counted the dwarves and realized that the number she came to was thirteen. Bilbo too, was safe and sound, hovering at the edge of the company, watching with a faint smile on his face.

Silwen could feel the stone still trembling under her feet, and could still see the stone giants between flashes of lightning. She nudged through the company, "Come, we must get to the cave, we can rest there."

Slowly, the company followed her as she hurried around the bend and into the cave. It was dark, but for the most part, dry.

Thorin dropped his pack, "Dwalin, see where it ends. Caves in the mountains are seldom left vacant."

Gloin pulled out his tinder-box and set a torch ablaze and handed it to Dwalin while the company waited, not that they really needed to. The cave did not go far into the mountain at all, and the single torch was enough to fill it with light.

A sigh of relief passed Silwens lips as she slid down the wall of the cave to the ground, closing her eyes. The company were all doing similar things, all tired, sore and chilled.

Thorin allowed them to keep the torch burning for as long as it would, but did not want another fire lit. Silwen, however, wanted to warm herself by a fire more than anything. The rain had drenched her and she felt chills coming on. The rest of the company fared no better.

Silwen curled up against the wall of the cave and pulled her cloak (which was heavy with water) around herself, even though it was really of no use. She pushed all sounds away and tried to sleep, for she know that the chills would only get worse.

She did not know for sure how much time she had spent there on the ground, but she was awoken by Thorin growling under his breath for them to wake up. In a haze, she sat up and saw the company stirring, and Thorin was getting to his feet.

Before anyone had the chance to say anything, or comprehend what was going on, the floor fell from beneath them. With a cry, she threw her hands up, scraping for a handhold as the floor swung out from underneath her. Her fingers barely grasped on the ledge, and she managed to pull herself up back into the cave. Laying on the cold stone, she realized that all of her companions had fallen and she was the only one who was able grab a handhold.

She drug herself to look over the edge, and far below her, saw a sort of bowl of stone that the company had fallen into. There was a cavern far below her, brightly lit. The company were just gathering themselves when a horde of thirty some armed goblins swarmed them and drug them away (not without a good fight first!).

Under her breath, the whispered, "I have failed." and fell over onto her back, starting blankly up at the domed roof of the cave.

She lay there for a few minutes before, on a whim, yanked her sword from its scabbard on her back and leapt down into the cavern below. The free fall was longer than she expected, but the stone sloped outward and caught her, and she slid on it and came to a stop in the bowl formed of stone, which was where she had last seen her companions.

Getting to her feet, she took a deep breath to steady herself. Guttural goblin speech echoed in the thick, smoky air, accompanied with goblin screeches and squeals of excitement. Determined not to leave her companions to be torn apart by goblins, she followed the only path that led away from the bowl, and followed it deep into Goblin Town.


	10. Down, Down, Down

The goblin's cavern was hot, and the air was foul – filled with a haze of smoke and the smell of rotting flesh. The air was still, there was no breeze or even a trickle of movement in the air. Pot lanterns hung from the ceiling by frayed ropes, and torches lined the walls sporadically and filled the whole cavern with flickering sinister orange light.

Once Silwen rounded the bend in the plank walkway, a labyrinth of wooden bridges and walkways wove and twisted all through the cavern in front of her, and were crawling with goblins of all shapes and sizes. Wiping her brow, she returned her sword to its place on her back. Silwen hadn't an idea how to try to rescue her companions without getting them all killed, herself included of course. Crouched near the wall, she strung her bow and watched the goblins scurry about their little town they had made for themselves.

Suddenly, with no warning, there came a chorus of terrible horns blowing. These goblin horns were neither in tune, nor organized into any arrangement of sound. The sounds they made were simply ugly and made Silwen want to scratch at her ears for the sound was irritating as it echoed through the thick air. Continuing to watch the goblins, she noticed that the horns meant something to them for they were all scurrying on mutated and crooked limbs further into the cavern. Silwen thought to herself as she got up from her crouch, _"Finally, some luck!"_

Careful to move in silence, she hurried after the goblins and (despite getting lost in the labyrinth of bridges twice) she found her companions. But this time, their rescue seemed even more hopeless. The "town" was massive, and not only was it a labyrinth of wooded bridges and platforms, but there were gaping holes mined into the sides of the cavern, and however far they stretched on inside the mountains she did not want to know.

Peering over a crude, rotten railing, she saw the goblins funnelling onto a single walkway, which led straight to a tall stone precipice surrounded by a wooden platform. Within the shadow of the massive spear on stone was a crude throne, on which sat a most grotesque goblin. He was massive in size and stature, his figure made every goblin around him appear puny, and insignificant. If her companions were being herded anywhere, it would be to this goblins feet, in front of the throne.

A sudden rise of a song that rose to a wail and fell to a growl in an inconsistent rhythm echoed from the Great Goblin, arousing a massive clamour from all of the surrounding goblins. Silwen was not able to make out the words of the song, for the sound of metal banging upon metal and goblin screeches had filled her ears above all else. In the cavern that the Goblin Town was built in, all sounds were amplified and echoed off of the walls so that the whole place was filled with noise that was so deafening, Silwen could not hear her own thoughts.

She made her way slowly and silently along the walkways that lead to the throne that the Great Goblin was perched on. Crouching in the shadows, she notched an arrow, with no real intention of using it, for she was far outnumbered. She was close enough that she was confident she would be able to place an arrow right between the Great Goblins watery, yellowish eyes, but what she would do after that, or what would happen, was not worth it.

For some time, the Goblin tried to pry answers from the dwarves, and the dwarves would have nothing of it, leading the Goblin astray with wild stories and excuses. Silwen was surprised that Thorin had not said a word, and by what she could see, was keeping his head low. Oin and Bofur each took a chance to talk themselves out the the predicament they were in, and were without success. They had irritated the Goblin more than enough, and had enraged him. Silwen winced as his voice echoed off of the walls, "Bones will be shattered! Necks will be wrung!"

At his words, goblins started dispersing onto walkways. Silwen's heart began to race as ten or more goblins were scurrying up the walkway towards her. Her head whipped around desperately as she tried to find something that she could use to help her. Finally, she noticed the massive light hanging above the platform that a majority of the goblins were on, along with her companions. The sound of a struggle scratched at her ears and she spared a moment to look for her companions to see them wrestling with the goblins, and being overwhelmed. She heard the Great Goblin shouting for Thorins head, and Thorin growling and fighting against whatever goblins were trying to keep a hold of him. She pulled her bowstring to her ear and angled the arrows shaft carefully upwards at the thin rope that held the hanging light in the air. Taking a deep breath, she calmed her heart and shaking hand, and as she exhaled, she released the arrow. Not waiting to see the light smash on the wooden planks, she tucked her bow away and yanked her sword free, charging into the group of ten or so goblins that blocked her from her companions. Doing away with them rather easily, she was able to witness the light (which was much larger than she thought) shatter as it hit the floor, sending sparks, coals, embers and shards of clay spraying through the air. She charged into the midst of the chaos, sword held high, "Get up and fight!"

In the few moments she was fighting alone while the dwarves had gotten a hold of any weapons they could find, Silwen must have killed eight or nine goblins for they were all quite stunned yet. She shouldered past the dwarves, and pushed (or kicked, or chopped) goblins out of her path as she faced the Great Goblin. Since growing used to her new weapon, it only took a quick movement to sheath the sword and take hold of her bow, and notch an arrow as well. The Goblin squealed and shrank back in his throne, scared, palms outstretched as if they would stop her. A rather small goblin (shorter than Silwen) rushed at her and was met by a boot in the chest, and the foul creature was flung onto its back in front of her. Placing a boot on its chest, she pulled the bowstring to her ear again and loosed the arrow. It met the Goblins skull with a deep thud and he fell forward, off of his throne, and never sang again (if that's what you would even call it).

Returning her bow to its quiver, she drew her sword again and slew the small goblin at her feet before running back to the company, "We must run!"

The dwarves sprinted off at her words, Thorin and Dwalin in the lead. Silwen found herself following Gloin, and followed by Fili. The company stormed through the labyrinths of goblin walkways, and slayed nearly every goblin that stood in their path, leaving a gruesome trail behind them. In vain, they tried to destroy the bridges that they crossed in attempt to stop the goblins from being able to follow them, but there were always more and more goblins around each bend and corner.

Thorin called back at his company, "We do not know the way out!"

But there was no stopping, the goblins were growing in number at an uncomfortable rate. Silwen paused to hack away the ropes that secured a large bridge and (what she assumed was a sort of) watch-tower to the main walkway they were on now. The time it took was enough to separate her from the company by a fair bit, and there were many goblins that had leapt down from the rickety watch-tower and now were between her and the company. She glanced back the way they had come to see goblins finding ways to get by the bridges the company had hacked down. Silwen felt fear rise again in her chest, and she cried out, "Thorin!"

Instead of Thorin however, Nori and Kili turned and skidded to a halt. With a few words they had alerted the rest of the company of the situation Silwen had found herself in.

Silwen was already hacking and pushing goblins from her path by the time the dwarves had joined her. If there was one thing she did not enjoy about her new weapon she found in the trolls cave, it was that she needed both hands to wield it and swinging it made her arms ache and protest. Skewering the last goblin in her path on the sword, she felt hot, foul blood cover her arms and hands. With a snarl, she wiped them quickly off on the goblins scraps of clothing and exchanged the massive sword for her two smaller blades that she still kept at her hips. Nori grabbed her by the arm, saying, "Come on, Silwen!" and he pulled her along with him for a bit until she shrugged free of his grip and nearly took the head clean off of a goblin that was trying to climb up onto the walkway.

They had ran for what seemed like a whole day and a night, but surely it was only the few hours that were left of the night, before coming to a dead end and were forced to fight their way back a bit to a different walkway. There, they found themselves surrounded. With curses, the dwarves formed a tight circle, waiting for some sort of order, or idea, but none came Silwen looked down to see the stone of the mountain slope lazily downward into darkness, but in that darkness was a sliver of pale light, just as if the sun had rose and was shining into a crack in the mountainside. She nudged Kili, "See those beams up there?"

She flicked the point of a blade up at two large beams that hung from the ceiling, holding an array of lanterns, "If we shoot the ropes off of them, they will fall on either side of us and break us free." She smiled at him when his brow furrowed, then whispered, "Look down."

When he did, his eyes lit up and he quickly notched an arrow with a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, "I will take this one, the other one is up to you."

Silwen switched weapons yet again and notched an arrow and stood with her back to Kili, they were nearly touching.

"You are mad!" cried Dori..

"You are going to get us all killed!" Dwalin bellowed as he moved to stop Silwen, but was brought to a halt by Thorin's arm across his chest.

Kili looked back over his shoulder at her and winked before raising his bow and letting the arrow fly. Silwen took a bit more time with aiming her shot, but as the ropes snapped, both archers already had another arrow notched to their bowstrings and both released the arrows with a deep _twang._

The second ropes holding the beams snapped the beams came crashing down. Silwen grabbed hold of Ori in front of her and felt a hand grasp her elbow, bracing for the impact of the beams. As the beams splintered and crashed through the wooden planks, they took a good dozen of goblins crashing down with them, followed by the wide walkway the company stood on. As they fell, a few of the company were tossed from their feet, but there was another dwarf there to catch his companion. Silwen let a cry out as they were free falling and her stomach was lifted into her throat. With a great impact and a shower of splinters, the walkway hit stone, but was strong enough to stay mostly in one piece. Down, down, down they were carried, and at a terribly fast speed. Silwen had closed her eyes against the splinters and tightened her grip on Ori, for she was needing something to brace herself against and Ori was holding on to Dori with all his might.

Silwen found the nerve to open her eyes again as she felt as if they were slowing down in their descent, and she was right. They were just coming to the end of the slope. She relaxed her pale knuckled grip on Ori's coat and tried to count the dwarves, but her head still swam with too much adrenaline and fright for her to focus.

The walkway finally skidded to a halt on the gravelly stone, and the dwarves all piled off of it, stumbling and falling. Silwen too, stumbled onto the stone, even with Kili's hand still on her arm.

"Well, that wasn't so bad." she said as she gave the destroyed walkway a little kick with the toe of her boot.

Thorin came to stand next to her and was looking up at the orange glow that was Goblin Town, "It is not over."

Silwen followed his gaze to see goblins spilling down the slope in vast numbers, hundreds it seemed.

"Oi!" Dwalin called out, "There's a door over here!"

"Ah yes," Silwen smiled faintly, "The way out."

The company all sprinted to the sliver of light in the darkness, and as it grew, so did their hope, for it was in fact a way out. The light was nearly blinding as Silwen passed through the door, and she was left blinking stupidly for a good while. The dwarves still ran, and Silwen followed once she could well enough to run. They maybe ran for another hour continuously glancing over their shoulders looking for goblins, when they had all agreed they were not being pursued anymore, Thorin had stopped them.

Silwen sank to her knees on a rock, catching her breath and counting dwarves. She smiled only when she counted thirteen dwarves. Something pulled at her happiness and it took her a moment to realized what it was, but when she did, she leapt off of the rock and confronted the nearest dwarf, who happened to be Balin, "Where is the hobbit!? Where is Bilbo!?"

Balins mouth fell open as he shook his head. Silwen turned to the next dwarf, who was Nori, "Did we lose him? Where!?"

When he gave no answer, she asked no dwarf in particular, feeling sadness swell up in her throat, "Where is our Bilbo?"

The dwarves were all somber now, for none of them had really thought of the poor hobbit in the struggle with the goblins. Thorin finally paced in front of her, not meeting her eyes, "I know what happened to him. He saw a chance to leave, and he left. Deserted us. He is far from us now, long gone. We did not lose him, Silwen, he was never found to begin with. We will not be seeing the hobbit again."

Silwen stepped closer to the dwarf, "How could you?"

"It is not my fault!" Thorin rose his voice, finally meeting her eyes, "Maybe you should go back and retrieve him."

"Thorin..." Balin seemed to be warning Thorin.

Silwen turned away from Thorin, and used her sleeve to wipe blood and grime from her face, "I chose to jump down. I chose to save you. If my efforts are going to be accepted like this..." she shook her head.

She leaned against a tree and rested her head upon its earthy smelling bark, suddenly burdened with a pounding headache.

However, her headache plagued her no more when a familiar voice came from somewhere behind her, "I do not think I shall need retrieving."

Silwens mouth fell open as she turned to see the hobbit standing between her and the company, with barely a scratch. She nearly ran to him and placed her hands on his shoulders, "How did you get by the goblins?"

Thorin seemed to loom behind the hobbit, "I want to know why. Why did you come back?"

Bilbo smiled at Silwen then brushed her hands off of his shoulders as he turned around and looked up at Thorin, "I know you don't like me Thorin, and that you probably wish that I was lost somewhere inside that mountain. I understand that. I understand how you've doubted me since we met in Bag End. I get it. In fact, I do want to go back there, to my books, and my hearth, and my armchair and soft blankets at night. I miss my home. But do you want to know why I came back when I could have left?" the hobbit paused to search Thorin's inscrutable face, "Because you don't have a home. And everyone should know the comforts of home and miss them when they are away. I want to do what I can so you can understand that, Thorin. I want you all to know what coming home feels like."

The company was all in awe of the little hobbit, most of all was Thorin. No one dared to move for some time, until Kili and Bofur rushed forward and wrapped their arms around hobbit. Silwen smiled at Thorin, whose attention was no longer on the hobbit, or his company.

Silwen placed a hand on her shoulder, "They do not want to pursue us in the broad daylight – they do not like it."

He shrugged her hand off roughly with a snarl+

, "I could care less about those goblins, Silwen. You know who has been hunting us all this time?"

Silwen shook her head, but bade him to continue, which he did, "Azog. He survived and has never forgotten his vow."

Silwen lowered a hand to rest on the hilt of a blade at her hip instinctively, and her eyes tore apart the wooded mountainside, lingering at every shadow. "We have to get out of these mountains, Thorin."

"We need Gandalf." Thorin said under his breath, and strode away, stirring his company.

Slowly, they started off walking again, but the going was slow, for they had not eaten or had much rest in the past couple days, and everyone's limbs were heavy from the fight out of Goblin Town.

Ori jogged a few steps to be alongside Silwen, "Um. Thank you. For... for deciding to save us."

Fili must have heard Ori, for he stopped and fell in pace with Silwen and Ori. The young dwarf flashed a smile at her, "Yes. Thank you. Thorin will never say it, but we truly are thankful for what you did," he paused, "sorry, for everything you have done. Oh, and Thorin doesn't know it yet, but you are good for him."

Silwen raised an eyebrow, and turned her face away from him as she smiled, for no one knew that Thorin had apologized to her once already, and realized how important she was to the company, "What do you mean?"

Fili laughed, "Well actually, it's you and Bilbo both-"

A chilling howl cut through the cool mountain air like a hot knife through butter. The entire company froze, completely still, barely daring to breathe.

It seemed as if Dwalin's axes had leapt into his hands, for that was how quick he was, "They have caught our scent! What should we do? Thorin?"

There was a flash of light as Thorin drew his sword, "We run."


End file.
