The Fifteenth Member (Thorin Oakenshield/OFC)

Chapter 3

I was roughly a woken a few hours later by Thorin, who was roughly shaking my shoulder.

"Up.  Now." He said when I laid my head back on the 'pillow' I was using (It was actually Kili's jacket, it wasn't much, but it worked) "We have no time for snoozing."  I groaned and sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.  I was NOT a morning person.

The sun had barely risen by the time everything was back on the ponies.

"You will either have to walk or ride with each of us throughout the day, none of them are strong enough to carry the weight of two for a whole day.  But don't ride with Bombur at all." He gestured to the fat cook, "His pony can barely carry him as it is."  I had some experience with horses, but not a lot.  I was a better rider than Bilbo though, he was having trouble getting on.  I walked over to him.

"Ok, you might want to tighten the saddle a bit more, otherwise you will never get on.  Don't worry about hurting her, I doubt even I could do that."  When he looked at me helplessly, I showed him patiently how to do it.

"What you do is lift this part of the saddle up, unbuckle the strap closest to her front legs and pull it up without letting it slack first, then do the same with the other one."  I did this for him since we were in a hurry.  "To mount her, put your left foot in the stirrup, grasp the reins in one hand and the front of the saddle with the other and pull yourself up, slowly transferring your weight from your right foot to your left then swing your right leg over her back and get that foot in the stirrup on the other side."  It took a few tries but as soon as he was up, I hopped on and we were off.

We rode for a few hours and during that time, I chatted with Bilbo about many things but mainly his life in the Shire —much to Thorin's annoyance, he made a snide comment whenever he could- but when we got talking about my life, they listened attentively.  I had an irritating, overprotective older brother three years older than me, though I refused to tell them our ages.  They were surprised to hear that I had two cats, they were considered very rare in Middle Earth due to the fact that most of them are mistreated and abused.  I lamented the fact that they were not with us, but it would have been unwise to voice my complaint.

Many of the dwarves, especially Dwalin and Thorin, thought me to be weak when I had informed them that I had minimal weapons training but the others were impressed that I had any at all.  I was tight-lipped when it came to my personal life as well.  All they knew was that I had never had a crush on anyone, considering that I lived in a small town and had known everyone there since I was a child and occasional travellers never stayed long enough to attract my attention. 

After riding with Bilbo, I switched to Ori.  He was the quiet, shy type but could out up a fight if he wanted to.  He was proud of his ability to use a sling-shot and he loved drawing and writing.  After that, I moved to Bofur's pony.  He was the dwarf with the funny hat.  I learned that he was the music lover, he could play a miniature flute and loved to dance and sing.  He was the type to perform in an inn or something.

It was just after sunset when we stopped that night at a small cave on a cliff. I had not eaten since lunch the previous day so I as starving.  I was surprised that those I had ridden with had not commented on my grumbling stomach.  I had not said a thing about it either, but a graciously accepted the large bowl of stew Bofur gave me for supper.  I noticed Dwalin giving me a dirty look, then I realized that my portion was much larger than the others.  I ate quickly and did my best to not meet the eyes of the other dwarves.  When I had finished, I went and instead of giving my bowl to Bombur, I washed it myself.  Since my tail had taken shape, I dragged myself over the rocks back to my little corner of the cave, which was rather close to the fire.  Eventually, the heat from the fire turned my tail back into legs.

I tried to sleep, but I couldn't, the rock was too hard and too rough.  I moved around as little as possible but quit trying to sleep after I heard a strange cry on the air.

"What was that?" Bilbo inquired, his voice laced with fear.

"Orcs." Kili replied, he sounded uneasy.

"Throat cutters," Fili continued, "There'll be dozens of them out there, the lowlands are crawling with them." By now, Bilbo was getting rather pale.

"They attack in the wee small hours when everyone is asleep, quick and quiet, no screams, just lots of blood."  By now, even I was terrified.  I didn't think I would be able to sleep at all that night.  My thoughts were interrupted by Thorin.

"You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"  Fili and Kili tried to make an excise but Thorin wouldn't have it. "You know nothing of the world!"  Bitterness laced his tone.

Balin stepped forward.  "Don't mind him lassie, Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs.  After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, king Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria but our enemy had gotten there first.  Moria had been taken by legions of orcs led by the most vile of all their race; Azog the Defiler.  The giant, Gundabad orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin.  He began by beheading the king.  Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief, he went missing.  Taken prisoner or killed, we did not know.  We were leaderless.  Defeat and death were upon us.  That is when I saw him.  I young dwarf prince facing down the pale orc.  His armor bent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield.  Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken.  Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back.  Our enemy had been defeated but there was no feast, nor song that night for our dead were beyond the count of grief.  We few had survived and I thought to myself then, there was one whom I could follow.  There was one I could call king.  This gave me a new view on Thorin, he had a reason to be bitter but that still gave him no right to take it out on Bilbo and I just because we weren't dwarves and he felt that we had no place in his Company.

"The pale orc?" Bilbo asked, "What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came," Thorin snarled, "That filth died of it's wounds long ago."  The camp was left in silence.

I laid my head down and decided to try and rest my eyes.  Thorin took the first watch.  After some time, when he thought I was asleep, he saw me shivering and lifted me up and placed me onto his fur coat, which he had taken off and spread out on the ground, and lowered me gently onto it so as not to wake me he then wrapped it around me.  I was taller than him but I had a slimmer frame, making it easy for the coat to serve as cocoon.  I snuggled into it.  It was warm and smelled of smoke and another scent that I could only define as masculine.  Before long, I fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

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