Hi everyone! Just a short chapter before the next with the dwarf we all secretly love!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the LoTR and HP worlds and this is just for fun.

Dwalin son of Fundin was not having a good day.

It stemmed first from having to venture far too near thrice-cursed Mirkwood for his taste because of the orcs swarming near the path to Esgaroth.

But then the merchants had chosen to seek refuge for the night far too early, just so they could fill their fat bellies-the fools ignoring their guards' counsel to continue on to safer paths.

And then, of course, the orc pack just had to attack them.

It was quite a different thing, Dwalin reflected in one of his rare moments, to fight for oneself and to fight while guarding a caravan of half-trained dwarflings who had never seen battle before.

At that age.. Young lads like Kìli had fought bravely with his kin in the Battle of the Five Armies.

Then again, these were Stiffbeards, he scoffed.

Too complacent by half and too used to peaceful times.

He consoled himself by thinking that at least most of his charges had managed to escape.

He had lived to a good age, he supposed: three hundred and eleven summers, older than many of his battle brothers.

And now, as he looked at the remains of his former companion, Rìagan Onyxfist, he silently awaited death.

…For about a minute, before a scream from the woods pierced the air and the orcs, now alerted to the possible presence of new prey, began to drag him with them, into Mirkwood.

And once the prey's trail had been efficiently scented and tracked, one of the scouts had came back dragging a small form on the ground before launching it.

At him, of course.

And then Dwalin had looked into wide emerald eyes of mesmerising beauty before realising just what he'd been saddled with.

An elfling, Mahal help him.

Not a particularly intelligent one, either, from the way the twit kept trying to catch his attention and smiling.

It didn't even have the decency to realise it was being insulted...

And looked far too happy considering they were about to be eaten.

Was it slow or diseased?

And then he looked on, amazed, as Pointy Ears murmured something and the ropes costraining him went slack… Until, of course, it turned to their captors with a grin, pointing at them… a bloody stick.

As though it were an intimidating weapon.

And so Dwalin son of Fundin, mighty son of Durin and fearsome warrior of old, knew that his last moments on this Earth would be with an elf.

A dim-witted one.

This was not a good day.

Blue beard, right? ;)

Just a little chapter and also, reaaaally sorry for the wait! This is the first version of the chapter I wrote, anything I tried under Harry's perspective didn't seem quite right. At least it's out and now the story will go forward!

Also. To the lovely readers-anything (details, comments, characters, mistakes) that doesn't seem right-tell me!

I may not always take it into account in the end but I assure you that I read everything you send. After I'll have published at least 10 chapters I'll revise everything! xx