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Mending the Broken Pieces	By : LadyLaran Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Het - Male/Female Views: 13613 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own "the Hobbit" nor do I make money from this story. Tolkien and Jackson are the ones who own the characters and world.

Chapter List
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Author’s Note – I think everyone’s fairly pleased with the last chapter, and I am so glad to see it. The feedback has been exceptional, and I thank everyone for reading and sharing your thoughts on the story so far. Also too, I have 15 more days until my disability hearing so please keep me in your thoughts. I really need this to go through.

Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story.

Chapter Seven – Serious Discussions and Silly Banter

The company made fairly good progress over the next few days, and Hawthorn slowly made friends with some of the dwarves. Her shyness didn’t help much, but most of the company were willing to help with that and pushed to get to know her. The fact that she helped out with the chores required for setting up or striking camp even when obviously hurting had earned respect from all of them. She never said a word about her discomfort, simply taking her herbal remedies before working on whatever task needed to be done, and the future king and the company respected her for that.

Thorin had noted, with some concern, that she was using the pain tonics often to combat the pain from the old injury. He’d overheard Tharkûn tell Oin that Elrond had a better one for her that would hopefully deal with the pain more efficiently as well as last longer. The healer had been concerned about the girl as well, and the king noticed that the older dwarf often kept an eye on her to ensure the lass didn’t overdo it. Outside of the limp that showed itself once she was off of her pony and the sight of the bottles she washed out after taking a dose, no one would have known she was in discomfort and that impressed him.

The journey went well, and they were making decent headway towards their destination. They stopped one night, and all of them were reminded that the pleasant trip was also fraught with danger. Some of them had drifted off to sleep, leaving a few awake with Kili and Fili on watch.

The hobbit was finishing up her scarf for Gandalf when the sound of screams and howling filled the air. Thorin went on alert at the same time as Hawthorn ensured her staff was within reach.

“I’ve not seen signs of them before making camp,” she said, voice drifting to the king. “It’s unsettling to be within hearing distance of them and not spot any sign of their presence nearby.”

“Nor have I,” he returned, giving his nephews a sharp glare as they tried to terrify Ori. “An orc raid in the night is not amusing; you two know nothing of the world.”

Hawthorn listened to Balin’s tale of the Battle of Moria, and she set her knitting aside once he had finished. She rose to her feet, wincing as her hip and upper leg throbbed in protest. Despite the pain, the lass made her way quietly to the king’s side.

“I’m sorry for the losses you have suffered over the years, Master Oakenshield,” she began softly. “I promise you that I will do all I can to make sure you and your people have a safe home where losses like this won’t happen again.”

It took Thorin several moments before he could find his words, touched by the promise she’d given him. She was proving herself to be as dedicated to ensuring his people had a home as he was in finding one for her as well.

“Thank you, Miss Baggins,” he said quietly. “Your dedication to this quest means a great deal to me. I’ve no wish to see more of my people returned to the stone.”

“We will have your home returned to you as soon as we can,” Hawthorn assured him. “We’ve got time between now and arriving there to come up with some sort of plan to destroy Smaug. From what I can see, you have a fair few intelligent minds who can devise a battle strategy for that. Once he’s handled, all you’ll have to worry about is repairing the damage he’s done and hope that he didn’t decide to relieve himself inside the mountain.”

As soon as she made that last comment, Hawthorn went a dark shade of pink and covered her mouth with a hand. Thorin was startled into chuckling; her words had been amusing, but it was her reaction to her own comment that had pushed him into laughter.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, embarrassed though her eyes showed a spark of pleasure at having made him laugh. “That was rather vulgar of me to mention that.”

“Of all the things I’ve had to think about regarding the restoration of Erebor, this is the first time the thought of cleaning up his excrement has entered my mind,” he deadpanned, amused by the pink cheeks and signs of embarrassment.

“You were probably suppressing the idea of something so abhorrent and smelly,” she asked, still pink cheeked, and he started chuckling, taken aback by the silly wit.

“Quite possibly,” Thorin said, eyes sparkling with merriment. “I’m afraid I have no idea what to do now that you’ve put such a repugnant thought into my head.”

“Mine now too,” she squeaked. “I’m afraid to sleep tonight for I’m certain I’ll dream of smelly piles of dragon dung, and that is enough to ruin anyone’s hope for a restful night and somewhat even temper in the morning.”

Hawthorn was treated to a soft choking sound as he swallowed back the chuckle that threatened to emerge and felt pleased she’d managed to chase away the shadows that seemed to haunt his eyes. It was good to know that he did have a sense of humor, and she hoped she’d be able to help him whenever the memories threatened to overwhelm him.

The mirth disappeared when the screams and howls were heard again, and she shuddered against the memory of her own encounter with the vile beings. Thorin saw the slight tremble in her hand as she rubbed the heel of her palm against her hip and upper leg as if soothing away pain.

“We’ll put two on watch for each shift,” he said quietly. “I imagine you won’t find it easy to rest at the moment?”

“Not with this going on,” Hawthorn answered, knowing exactly what her dreams would be full of even if she had been able to sleep. “It would be unnerving for someone who hasn’t encountered their kind before and much worse for those who have.”

Thorin nodded, turning to the company and ordered them to bed as he set the watch for the rest of the night. Everyone took to their bedrolls while the hobbit grabbed her staff and took a seat next to where the dwarf lord would be sitting for his portion of the watch.

They passed about two hours in silence which was broken only by the snores of the company and the occasional screeching from the orcs. Both on watch could tell that the disgusting creatures were still far off, but they were moving as well.

Shifting his weight, Thorin caught a glimpse of something blue gleaming on the hobbit’s lap and realized she had the dagger he’d gifted to her during his acceptance of her welcome back in the Shire. Her left hand was loosely clenched around the hilt of the sheathed weapon while her right did the same for the staff. Hawthorn caught his gaze and tilted her head slightly.

“From what Mithrandir has said, dwarves make everything that’s lovely useful,” she said. “I tested the blade, and the edge of it is incredibly keen. It’s well balanced too, not that I’d do that and risk the chance of losing this lovely dagger.”

“My brother was good when it came to forging weapons like that one,” he answered quietly.

“Your brother made this? Are you sure I ought to have it,” the hobbit asked, sliding her hand down on the sheath as if to hand it back.

“You should be the one to carry it now,” Thorin answered. “I carried it with me since he gave it to me, but I’ve never used it. The hilt is too small for my hands, and it’s a gift that was given to you as per the traditions of my people. We always give a gift that is both useful and created by one of our own. This way our hand and Mahal’s shelter you for the hospitality you have shown us.”

“It’s a beautiful tradition,” she began softly. “I’m not certain that I should have something that your brother gave to you.”

“He’d have agreed with my choice in gifting it,” Thorin assured her. “He hated that our people are treated so badly, and your actions would have amazed and humbled him. You proved to all of us that there was still one person in Arda who would not turn away someone in need, even though hosting us put a burden on you.”

“It didn’t matter if all I had to give you was potato soup, I still would have done the same thing,” Hawthorn said to him.

“Which is why you have found friends within the company and why my brother would have insisted on you keeping that dagger,” he replied. “You welcomed us and meant it.”

“No matter where I end up in the future once this quest is completed and Erebor is yours again, this company and the dwarves of Durin’s Folk will always find sanctuary beneath my roof,” the hobbit promised, remembering the term Ori had used to describe the people Thorin ruled.

“Thank you, Miss Baggins,” Thorin solemnly answered. “That means a great deal to all of us, and you will be given the same courtesy. Erebor will always be open to you.”

The hobbit lass gave him a small smile, making him realize that he and the others had not seen an unrestrained smile from her before. He could recall Tharkûn mentioning how she was always laughing, smiling, and singing as a child, but he’d not seen any signs of that since meeting her.

“Thank you, Master Thorin,” Hawthorn replied politely in a voice that showed she was deeply grateful for his words. “I hope to take you up on that invitation so I can not only visit with all of you but see how the mountain starts blooming once the restoration is underway. I have no idea if I would have any skills that might help at all, but I’m willing to try.”

A thought occurred to him when he heard the wistful tone in her voice that showed that she was eager to help, and he had a feeling he knew exactly what she could aid in.

“Actually, there might be a few tasks we’ll need your specific skills for,” Thorin began. “At first, until the dwarrow in Ered Luin relocate to Erebor, Ori will be the only scribe in the mountain as Balin will be too busy to take on those responsibilities. He’ll need help with all of the documentation as well as requiring assistance in restoring the library once it’s reopened. I have no idea how long you would wish to remain within Erebor but when you are ready to leave our halls, we’ll see to it you have a home you are comfortable and happy in.”

Her eyes took on a look of hope as blue eyes met blue and held.

“I would be happy to remain in the mountain to help for as long as you need me,” the hobbit lass said softly.

“From what I recall of the library, you’ll be stuck in Erebor for a good while. I have no doubt there will be quite a few books, scrolls, and maps in need of restoration as well as interpretation from Sindarin into Westron,” the dwarf lord informed her. “I know Ori will be living in that room if his brothers don’t pull him out for food, sleep, and socialization every so often.”

“Hazards of being a scribe and loving what you do,” she answered with another tiny smile. “I’ve been known to forget to eat whenever I’m involved with a book that has a lot of fascinating information. During my visits to Imladris, Lord Elrond would often have to send his daughter or sons to retrieve me at mealtimes. I’m rather notorious for forgetting the passing of time when I’m in a library, and Erestor is the same so he can’t keep an eye on me to make sure I eat properly.”

“I’ll have Ori’s brothers pull you out as well,” he said in a deadpan tone that was partially teasing. “No need to allow our hobbit to waste away on us.”

That comment seemed to catch her off guard, and Thorin quickly remembered that no one had kept an eye on the lass since the death of her parents and subsequent abandonment by most of her extended family. It made something in his chest ache at that realization since he knew that he and his sister had each other and the lads after losing so many family members. Their presence had been a comfort to him, and he had no doubt it had been the same for Dis. The dwarf lord couldn’t even imagine not having them with him, and it made him appreciate the hobbit’s inner strength.

“Thank you,” Hawthorn said quietly, not making any further conversation when it became apparent that the dwarf was deep in his thoughts.

She remained quiet for the rest of the watch, thinking about various things and how nice it had been to be able to tease and enjoy it. Hawthorn couldn’t remember the last time she’d been a part of that kind of camaraderie, and she hoped that she would be able to do so again. The dwarf was intimidating, but he was showing a softer, playful side to his personality. It was something she hoped and wanted to see again.

Author’s End Note - While looking over a clip in Rivendell, I noticed Thorin standing near the company’s table about the time Bofur starts singing. Yes, he was enjoying the music and showing signs of a bit of merriment so I think it’s possible others can make him laugh. I liked the idea of silly banter to try to relieve fear, and I hope you do too! Try not to dream of piles of dragon poop! See you next time, Laran.
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Mending the Broken Pieces