Raven: An Unexpected Adventure

Twenty-Six

Thorin

Bag End, Hobbiton

11 January 2959

"Remember what we talked about," that was what Bilba had warned him before slipping inside of the smial. Thorin regarded the girl before him: his daughter. She only looked about twelve, thirteen perhaps now that she wasn't so slight. Still, there was a determination in her gaze that he recognized. She truly was a frightening blend of himself and Bilba. They were both far too stubborn for their own good and, intentionally or not, so was their daughter.

"Come," Raven nodded her head away from the smial and their unseen observers. Thorin nodded, and followed after her. She walked with a surety that he was unsure if he'd had at her age. It was something, Thorin realized with a start, he also admired about her. Raven might be impulsive, but she exuded an air of certainty. She was startlingly capable for a youth her age, she knew what she wanted, and she wouldn't stop working until she got it. He had once been filled with a similar burning energy. Now, it had abated, but the more that he reflected on Raven's actions the more he saw himself in his daughter.

They walked down to the now-deserted party field and Raven led him over to the swinging bench. A bare bush loomed over it, offering them the illusion of privacy.

"What did Ma tell you?" Raven began without preamble, taking Thorin once more by surprise.

"She explained to me a little bit more about what life was like at the smial." Thorin heard himself answer before he had time to think about her question. Raven eyed him, obviously waiting for a further explanation. "She explained that you are used to being independent. She also suggested that, perhaps, you would feel happier with more responsibilities?" Thorin elaborated. Raven snorted softly in a wry amusement and Thorin waited for her response.

It was a while in coming, but finally Raven spoke. "Ma and Aunt Primula knew about tending to the fields, but I was stronger than either of them. It's the dwarrow blood I suppose and when it came to hunting and trapping? Ma would do it if she had to, but when I was twelve I volunteered to do it, and she allowed me. They never over worked me, they wanted me to have a childhood. We were short on hands, however, and we all needed to pitch in to survive. It was that simple. I'm sixteen now, halfway to my hobbit coming of age, and old enough to handle myself. I haven't thought of myself as someone to be coddled, not for years, and I don't want to be now." Raven seemed to steel herself and then looked up, meeting Thorin's gaze. "Ma's right. I would be happier with more responsibilities because that's what I'm used to. I don't want to be treated as a child. It makes me feel useless." Raven dropped his gaze and Thorin felt a pang of understanding. She might not realize it, but Raven was essentially echoing his own words. Thráin had once tried to keep him back, protected from the atrocities of battle. Thorin had refused to be left behind. Ultimately, he had been part of the great campaign and ultimately the hero of the war.

"If we'd stayed here," Raven continued, drawing Thorin back to the present, "if I'd grown up in Bag End? Maybe things would have been different, but I didn't. Being trapped inside, told I can't defend myself, that I can't help people I lo-" she paused abruptly. "People I care about," she corrected herself and Thorin fought a wince at the wording. "If I can't help them? Well then, what good am I?" she ended quietly. Thorin reached out, drawing her to him. At first, she remained stiff, but then she melted into his side.

"It has never been my intention to make you feel trapped," he acknowledged after a pause. "I know that you want to help, that you want to defend yourself, but it's in my nature to defend those whom I love. Bilba, I know, can attest to how we dwarrow can be overprotective. It's simply part of our nature," Thorin shrugged helplessly.