The Hobbit: An Unexpected Reunion

Chapter 5

"The armor you gave me has saved my life more times than I can count," Fróia informed Thorin.

"It certainly looks like it has seen action."

Fróia smiled, patting the leather shirtwaist. "Oh, by the way," the she-dwarf tugged at the knife Thorin had included with the armor he had given sixty years ago, "I kept this safe."

Thorin smiled, "Of course you did!" He then reached into one of his coat pockets and held out the runestone Fróia had given him.

"You've kept it all this time," she wondered aloud.

"Of course I did," and the stone was dropped back into its holding place. "Almost every night, I found myself pulling it out and thinking of you, where you were, whether you were alright. Before each battle I was in, I'd bring it out and clench my hand around it for a while. Somehow, it always gave me a shred of hope prior to the offensive."

It touched Fróia very deeply that the prince had held onto her gift and had derived something pleasing from its meager value. For a while, the two walked in silence, their hearts and minds absorbing the facts that both had used the farewell gifts they had given each other. After a while, Fróia chuckled to herself.

"What's so funny?" Thorin asked.

"Just the fact that if we were anywhere else, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. It took a dragon to grant us a chance to have a conversation longer than twenty minutes!"

"And if anyone has a problem with it, it'll be a very uncomfortable conversation with me!" the commander of the smaller company affirmed. He glanced at Fróia and gave a reassuring nod; promising to not permit ridicule to arise from their friendship. Fróia offered him a grateful grin, but her face fell as they proceeded towards the edge of the woods.

"Fróia, what is it?" posed Thorin.

The she-dwarf bit her lower lip before answering. "I feel guilty; for ever wanting to explore the lands outside of the Lonely Mountain. I got what I wanted. I only wish," Fróia glanced behind her to the flock of dwarves that had lost their home and many members of the families sixty years after Smaug had taken the mountain. She also remembered those who were no longer traveling with them; her parents were the first that came to mind. "that it hadn't come at so great a cost."

"You couldn't have known this was going to happen, Fróia!" Thorin defended. He struck his fist into his chest, "I bear this responsibility. I suspected something would come months before Smaug, and I did nothing."

"Thorin, what could you have done? Thrór was confident in his surety and was half the time beyond the hope of reasoning with!" The she-dwarf's statement earned her a hard look from Thorin, but she stood her ground, "Well, he was!"

"Still," the heir of Erebor admitted, "I should have done more. I shouldn't have let your father separate from us! If I hadn't remained silent, your parents might still be alive! Many good dwarves could still be alive! And you would have been spared so much!"

"Thorin," the she-dwarf stopped walking for a moment, "my father and the hundred dwarves that separated from you did not want to spend another day under the leadership of Thrór." This stopped the late king's grandson in his tracks, his eyes focused on the path ahead.

"I'm sorry. But it is the truth. I just felt it was time you knew it."

Thorin didn't answer, but he grudgingly picked up his feet and started to march again; Fróia walked in same pace with him. Thorin couldn't quite bring himself to be angry with Fróia for what she said. In all honesty, she was probably the one person brave enough to say it to his face. His grandfather had not been in his right mind; he hadn't been for a while. Fróia had warned him many times back in Erebor that the people were getting scared; scared of whether Thrór was leading the dwarf kingdom down the proper path. He himself had begun to doubt his king's sanity.

While he was thinking through the emotions his mind was reeling with, Thorin could not help but smile softly to himself. Fróia's frankness with him hadn't waned one bit over the gap of sixty years. Nor had her kindness, her stubbornness, or her brazenness. It was as if nothing had changed between the two of them. Not even the feelings that stirred in his heart even has he walked next to her.

"So, Wolfguard," he said, glancing down at the bracers Fróia had embellished.

The she-dwarf eyed his shield dangling from his belt, "So, Oakenshield."

Thorin smiled, "Any stories you care to tell me?" he asked, breaking the silence between them.

Fróia tilted her head slightly and raised an eyebrow, "You first."

The two companies had stopped for a brief repast. They were packing up when someone shouted, "Something's coming out of the woods!"

Fróia and Mira's company scrambled together into a large mass, the children at the center. Tomli and the rest of the young dwarves stood on the outside of the circle, prepared to protect their own. Their two leaders, as it happened, had been talking with members of the company of Thorin Oakenshield and took their places to stand beside the male warriors. Fili tried to stand in front of Mira, but the she-dwarf wouldn't have it and she wormed her way to stand between Fili and Kili. Fróia brushed off Thorin's staying arm and drew both her Elvish short swords and stood at the ready.

The bushes rustled and out of them popped a line of rabbits, pulling a wooden sled. Someone crouched over the sled's bar and was shouting, "There's something there! There's something there!"

"Stand down!" Gandalf commanded. Everyone looked to either Thorin or Fróia, who glanced at each other and then the wizard, before lowering their weapons. The rabbits had come to a stop before the Grey Wizard and the moldy and earthy form rushed over to the tallest member of the conjoined companies.

"Radagast!" Gandalf cried. "Whatever is the matter?"