Many days of traveling pass.  Eventually, we find ourselves on a mountain cliff.  It's nighttime, and most of us are sleeping except for Fili, Kili, Gandalf, Thorin, Balin, and I.  

As we sit watch by a fire, Bilbo suddenly jerks awake.  He stands, stretches, and walks towards the ponies are.  I can see him whispering to his horse, Myrtle.  He's grown quite fond of her, and I mean, who wouldn't?  Ponies are awesome. 

All of a sudden a shriek rings out and everyone who's awake looks up from what they're doing. 

"What was that?" Bilbo asks, pointing into the distance. 

"Orcs," Kili mutters, concern on his face.

"Orcs?" Bilbo asks, scampering over to the fireside.  Thorin sits up, staring intently into the night sky. 

"Throat-cutters.  There'll be dozens of them out there," Fili explains.  "The lone-lands are crawling with them." 

"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep.  Quick and quiet, no screams.  Just lots of blood," Kili says, trying to stay serious. 

"Come on, guys," I mutter, knowing they're trying to make Bilbo more scared than he already is.  Fili and Kili both start chuckling, and I sigh heavily. 

"You think that's funny?" Thorin demands.  "You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?" 

"They didn't mean anything by it," I explain. 

"No, they didn't.  They know nothing of the world," Thorin grumbles.  He walks off towards the edge of the cliff and stares off into the vast darkness.

"Don't mind him, laddies and lass," Balin says.  "Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs."

All of us remain silent, remembering the tale.  Bilbo cocks his head to the side, and Balin tells the whole tale, from the dragon claiming our homeland to the oaken branch that Thorin used as a shield, thus earning him his name.  The beheading of King Thror, and when Thorin cut the arm off of Azog the Defiler.  

I can picture the scene in my head, despite the fact that I wasn't there.  My father died in that battle, and that was when I was just a little dwarf girl.  I was born after we fled.  He died trying to save the kingdom I never saw.

"And I thought to myself then, 'There is one who I could follow.  There is one I could call king," Balin finishes. 

Thorin turns around to face us, his face filled with sadness.  By this point, all the other dwarves are standing up and facing Thorin, probably woken by the story.  Thorin walks among them, looking grateful to have them here. 

"And the pale orc?" Bilbo asks.  "What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came," Thorin growls.  "That filth died of his wounds long ago." 

Bilbo and Gandalf exchange a glance, and I have a feeling they know something that Thorin does not.  Gandalf sighs and takes a long drag from his pipe. 

"Alright everyone, get some rest.  We have a long day of traveling ahead," Thorin says.  "Dwalin and Bombur are on watch duty." 

Fili, Kili, and I walk to our sleeping area and lie down.  I cover myself in my blanket and try to sleep, but memories keep flooding back to me.  My father telling me that he was going to fight and my mother begging him not to go.  Me holding onto his pant leg and crying "Daddy, don't go."  But he followed Thror and went with many other dwarf men.  Many of them didn't return, including my father. 

"Nossa, are you okay?" Fili asks.  I didn't even realize I was crying until he pointed it out by wiping the tears off my cheeks.  I shake my head and he wraps his arms around me, holding me close to him.  I feel safe when I'm around him.  Fili and Kili were the only two people that could comfort me after my father didn't return home.

Wrapped in the safety of Fili's arms, I fall asleep in no time. 

The next morning it's pouring rain.  After we pack up, I mount my horse and pull my hood up.  Thunder rumbles and the rain and mud slosh underneath our horse's feet.

Bofur tries to smoke his pipe, but the water quickly distinguishes any flame he has.  Bilbo's normally curly hair is soaked and sticking to his face, making him look absolutely miserable. 

"Here, Mr. Gandalf, can't you do anything about this deluge?" Dori asks. 

"It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done," Gandalf replies.  "If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard." 

"Are there any?" Bilbo asks. 

"What?"

"Other wizards."

"There are five of us," Gandalf explains.  "The greatest of our order is Saruman the White.  Then there are the two Blue Wizards.  Do you know, I've quite forgotten their names." 

"Who is the fifth?" I ask. 

"Well, that would be Radagast the Brown!" Gandalf exclaims.

"Is he a great wizard?  Or is he more like you?" Bilbo asks. 

Fili, Kili, and I all look at each other and snicker, and Gandalf shoots us a glare.  We stop laughing immediately and stare straight ahead.

"I think he's a very great wizard," Gandalf continues. "In his own way.  He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others.  He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the east, and a good thing too, for always evil will look to find a foothole in this world." 

------------------

The company rides up a massive hill, and an abandoned, broken down house comes into view.  We stop walking and Thorin stands in front of us. 

"We'll camp here for the night." 

We all dismount and start bustling around, getting the camp set up. 

"Fili, Kili, look after the ponies.  Make sure you stay with them.  Nossa, I want you to start making dinner," Thorin orders.  I wave goodbye to the boys as they take the ponies to a good grazing spot and I start making a stew out of our preserves. 

"A farmer and his family used to live here," Gandalf says, observing the house. 

"Oin, Gloin.  Get a fire going," Thorin orders. 

"Aye," Oin replies.

"I think it would be wiser to move on," Gandalf says.  "We could make for the Hidden Valley." 

"I have told you already, I will not go near that place," Thorin growls. 

"Why not?  The Elves could help us!" Gandalf exclaims.  "We could get food, rest, advice." 

"I do not need their advice," Thorin says. 

I continue making the stew, and once Oin and Gloin have the fire crackling I set the pot above the flame with a few sticks.  Gandalf and Thorin continue their heated debate, but I can't hear them.  They're talking too quietly. 

"That smells good, lass," Dwalin says. 

"Thank you," I reply, smiling.  I stir it every so often, making sure it's cooking evenly.  Bombur tries to eat some, but I smack his hand away. 

"You don't get any until it's done." 

At that moment, Gandalf storms out of the abandoned farm house. 

"Everything all right?  Gandalf, where are you going?" Bilbo asks as he strokes the muzzle of one of the ponies that Fili and Kili haven't retrieved yet. 

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense," Gandalf explains. 

"And who's that?" Bilbo asks. 

"Myself, Mr. Baggins!" Gandalf yells. "I've had enough of dwarves for one day." 

Thorin stands in the house, watching Gandalf leave. 

"Come on, Nossa, we're hungry." 

I start dishing out bowls of stew, and I overhear Bilbo whispering to Balin. 

"Is he coming back?" 

Balin shrugs and I sigh.

I hope he comes back.