Long wait, no excuses other than I've been on exchange and haven't had much time to do anything but focus on that for the past year. All recognisable characters are the property of J RR Tolkien – I claim nothing but Ceridwyn.

The East Road: Day 1

It was still dark when Thorin awoke. The cold glint of moonlit steel in his hand caught his eye and he looked down at the blade clutched tightly in his fist. As his breathing slowed he looked around the dim room, worried that his sudden movements may have awoken the others. Their loud snores quickly allayed his fears. Returning the blade to its sheath, Thorin took a deep breath and rubbed at the grit in his eyes, as though it might also rub away the nightmares. Although this particular one had already melted away into the recesses of his mind, he could easily guess what it had contained… all his dreams seemed charred with flame and ruin. He shook his head to clear it of even darker thoughts and took several more deep and deliberate breaths. When he was sure he was calm once more, he looked to the window. A crescent moon hung low in the sky and the stars were already fading from view. There were some hours left before dawn, but Thorin knew that attempting to return to sleep would prove fruitless. It would be best to simply begin his preparations for the long day ahead.

Slipping from his bedroll, he stood and stretched his cramped muscles quietly, counting the sleeping figures around him as he did so. Alarm coursed through him when he came up short. After another, more careful count, it appeared that neither the wizard nor his golden-eyed associate were present. Pulling on his shirt and shoes, Thorin scowled into the darkness.

Where in Durins' name could they be at this hour? He tugged his leather jerkin over his shoulders as he walked on tiptoe to the hallway, carefully skirting the errant mass of stray limbs and beards that lay in his path.

Did wizards even need to sleep? Thorin pondered as he moved along the darkened house. It was certainly a thought that had never crossed his mind before. Shaking his head silently, he approached the front of the burrow. A faint sound caught his ears and he cocked his head, straining to catch it. Yes, there were definitely voices up ahead. He walked along the well-polished floorboards, stopping when a familiar whiff of pipe smoke reached his nose. He released the breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding. Gandalf, at least, was still around. Realising he was standing in the dark like a snitch, Thorin raised his hand to knock on the door and alert the wizard to his presence, when a soft, rasping voice spoke.

"You knew!" It was the woman, Ceridwyn.

"For all your talk of choice, you knew I would be bound to say yes, Mithrandir." Thorin suddenly decided that he was glad the door was between them. She sounded furious.

"I… had a suspicion." Gandalf seemed calm, almost flippant.

"You just needed a push, otherwise you were never going to leave that place."

"And that is of no concern of yours." Ceridwyn spat. Curious, Thorin peered through the thick window-pane beside the door. The darkness meant gave him an advantage, he could see out but the people outside could not see in. As he eyes continued to adjust to the moonlight, Thorin made out a dark figure by the garden gate and thin tendrils of smoke rising from just below the sill. The ghostly light cast curious patterns across the yard but Thorin could make out one of Ceridwyn's pale hands was raised, a finger seemingly pointed directly at his face. He backed away slightly, remembering how often Dís had lost her temper at him, even when he hadn't been the target of her rage. Making sure he stayed in the shadows, Thorin turned away from the window to head back into the depths of the house and try to prepare for the journey. He moved as quietly as he could and attempted to locate his coat and weapons by the door, which he'd hung there many hours before. Unfortunately, Ceridwyn's voice carried through the wood.

"You had no right, Gandalf. No right to do this." Thorin winced, wishing he could be anywhere but there.

"My dear, I never forced you to do anything. I merely suggested a certain path and you chose to take it. " Gandalf replied calmly. Thorin winced again.

"Said like a man who has no sister." He muttered under his breath, fumbling desperately in the dark for his things.

"Besides, you couldn't stay in that old tree forever."

Who in Durin's name would want to live in a tree? Thorin felt his brow furrow in surprise. The woman was either insane or half elf – although the latter was definitely worse. His lip curled as his thoughts strayed briefly to the pointy-eared bastards.

"Oh but I could. Forever isn't that long." Ceridwyns' voice faltered, the anger draining away to something Thorin couldn't entirely identify. Sadness? Bitterness? Realising he was eavesdropping again he grabbed his blue cloak off the hook and made to turn away.

"Ceridwyn…" Gandalf's voice was gentle, no hint of flippancy now.

"You must admit that this is better. There was nothing for you there." Silence reigned; then a deep sigh met his ears.

"It was more than I deserved Gandalf. Those woods, that life, it was better, much better than anywhere else I could have been. No, Mithrandir, I know you don't agree but you know –" Thorin shifted on his heel and a single floorboard creaked loudly beneath him. He sighed. The garden fell deathly silent. Thorin squared his shoulders and grasped the door handle, clearing his throat before opened the door and looking from Ceridwyn to Gandalf and back. Smoke, drifting from Gandalfs' pipe, was the only thing that moved in that tiny front garden. Even the drafty winds had seemed to stop. Ceridwyns' eyes glimmered in the dark, like those of the great cats that were said to prowled the northern slopes, but the rest of her features were concealed in shadow. He tried to ignore the icy gaze as it swept up and down his body, by pulling his coat on over his shoulders.

"Gandalf. M'lady." He murmured in greeting.

"An early morning for you both I see?" He observed politely. Gandalf waved at him nonchalantly, but Ceridwen merely scowled.

"Is it a Dwarfish habit to skulk around doors, My Lord?" Ceridwyn folded her arms over her thin chest, lifting her chin defiantly. Thorin struggled to swallow his own anger. It was not as if he had wished to be here, to awaken from visions of death at some ungodly hour of the morning and overhear the bickerings of an old man and a witch.

"I awoke... and saw that you were both missing. I came to investigate."

She snorted. He could see she was trying to goad him, but he maintained his calm façade.

"Spy, you mean?" She accused. Thorin leaned against the door frame and meeting her angry gaze.

"What use would I have of your secrets?" He asked calmly. She bristled and suddenly he caught a glimpse of something behind her eyes. She was embarrassed, obviously, and he couldn't fault her on that front. He would have been just as sheepish if someone had eavesdropped on his private conversations. But there was another emotion there. One he was entirely startled by.

Fear. She was frightened, but by him or something else he couldn't tell.

He wanted to put her mind at ease. If they were to travel together, and trust each other as a Company, he had to know who, or what, he had invited to join him.

"Yes, I overheard something of your conversation, M'lady. I came to fetch my things and overheard you, that cannot be helped. I apologise if it has caused you distress, however I do have a question." Ceridwyn's eyes flickered to Gandalf and he shrugged. Looking back at Thorin she squared her shoulders.

"You can ask Dwarf, but I may choose not to answer." Her flippancy was grating, but Thorin kept his simmering temper under control.

"Where did you come from? How am I to trust you with my life, and the lives of my kin, if I know nothing of who or what you are?" Ceridwyn's eyes widened momentarily in surprise. She appeared ready to retort, but held her tongue at the last moment.

"That is a fair enough question I suppose. I was born in a village far to the north of here. You would never have heard of it though, for it has long disappeared from the memories of Man or Dwarf." She paused and then shrugged.

"I dwelt in the forests of the North Downs, although I cannot re-call for how long." He hummed thoughtfully.

"You wish to know something else, My Lord?"

"Are you a witch?" He demanded, probably a little more forcefully than intended, and she laughed.

"Oh-ho, I much worse than that I'm afraid." Thorin scowled openly now, tiring rapidly of her little games and sarcasm.

"Oh-ho, another non-answer from the witch." He retorted, watching the laughter died from her lips.

"I have no use of such dishonesty on this quest or within my Company." He said in disgust, turning on his heel to leave.

"I suspect the irony must not have hit you My Lord, for I see something deliciously so in a Dwarf-Lord who thinks skulking by a dark door is honest." He whirled at her in shock. She smirked openly now.

"Don't play me for a fool sir. Stained as my soul is, your own character leaves much to be desired."

"By what right does the pot feel it can call a kettle so black?" Furious now, he ignored the pleading expression on Gandalf's face. Arms akimbo he glared at the witch with open contempt.

"Clearly you are far from innocent or you wouldn't have been hiding in some witch-wood in the North, far from decent folk." Ceridwyn went very still. If he had struck her, he doubted she would be so affected. When she spoke, the words chilled him to his very soul.

"And I pray Dwarf, that you may never know just how far." She looked past him at Gandalf and there was a quiet rage behind her gold eyes.

"To think that I should swear to join this company and to be holden to those that cannot trust me." She sighed deeply. Thorin opened his mouth to speak but she held up a hand to quell his words.

"Oh, I will do my part to help reclaim your homeland, I gave my word and it binds me…" Here she looked met his gaze directly.

"No doubt I will watch as it gets you and your kin killed." Turning on her heel she stalked to the garden gate. Seething, Thorin bit down on his tongue to stop himself saying something worse.

"One way or another, once this quest is done, you need never worry of my crossing your path again." She jumped over the fence and onto the road. Her feet made no noise even as they found purchase on the rough ground. He refused to be impressed.

"Are you satisfied with your meddling now?" She asked pointedly at the grey cloaked man beneath the window. Gandalf stood in a rush.

"Ceridwen, wait!" He moved to catch her arm. She scowled at his hand but he did not release her.

"We leave at dawn."

"I will meet you, fear not." Wrenching her arm from his grasp she unhooked her corded bag and cloak. Her arms were pale beneath the moonlight, however the vivid bands and swirls encircling them seemed almost black by comparison. Gandalf accepted the offered objects without a word and the two men watched her depart, a slim figure disappearing rapidly into the gloom. Then he turned to Thorin, with a scowl on his face.

"And I thought Tooks had no tact." He muttered angrily, stalking past and slamming the door closed. Loud groans echoed from the sitting room. Thorin sighed. The noise had woken his kin. He sat down on the recently vacated garden chair, peering out over the starlit fields and valleys before him. Yes, he'd spoke in haste, and anger, but truly that witch had gotten under his skin, what exactly was he supposed to have done? More to the point, what had he gotten himself into? Rubbing his face, he looked to the heavens. They merely glittered back, their cold and distant light taunting him. The door opened behind him and he recognised the familiar, heavy-footed steps of Dwalin.

"Bit early for risin', ain't it?" He asked, echoing to an eerie degree what Thorin himself had said earlier. The Dwarf-Lord shrugged.

"No time like the present." He murmured, turning a small smile to his old friend. The fearsome Dwarf did not look as though he had just been awoken by an angry wizard, but Thorin could tell they were both exhausted and agitated. There were scatterings of grey in both their beards now, which Thorin had not seen before, and he couldn't help wondering where the years had gone. Finally, after a moment, he brought himself back to the present.

"Prepare the Company. There is not much time until dawn and we'd best make good use of our time while we can." He sensed, rather than saw, Dwalin's nod. Without another word he disappeared back inside the Hobbit-hole, leaving Thorin alone with his gods-forsaken thoughts.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Sunlight was creeping over the horizon as the Company made their way out of the rolling hills and laneways of Hobbiton. Thorin couldn't help but notice a little pang in his chest as they did so. It was such a quaint little place after all, but the weight of the key in his pocket sent a strange thrill through him. This was their first real chance to return to Erebor. Their real home. It was what they had all been waiting for, for so long. He could practically see the great, cavernous halls of his home now.

They had all cleaned Mr Baggins' home before they left (Dwarfs weren't savages after all) and Thorin was relieved to see that, despite this, they still made good time along the Eastern Road. Very few people were around at that time of the morning, however the Company was watched with blatant curiosity by a few farmers who were working in their fields as dawn broke. The air was fresh, crisp and filled with the unmistakable smell of earth, and looking around Thorin wasn't the only one taking an opportunity to breathe it in deeply. It had been some time since they'd been able to enjoy the tranquillity of the morning.

They were missing Master Baggins, much to the Wizards' disappointment, but there was an air of optimism throughout the group. Riding on the high of the returned key, Thorin couldn't find it in him to be disappointed in the hobbit.

He can and should stay in his comfortable burrow, away from the horrors of the world. Durin knew they all wished they could. No-one could begrudge him what they all wished they had.

A scowl floated across his features as he thought of other missing members of the Company. Kili and Fili were giving him a wide berth, since he'd damn near snapped their heads off for asking about her earlier that morning. Thorin had been frustrated in his attempts to discover more about Ceridwyn. Although the Ishtar was rarely forthcoming with straightforward information, he had been particularly vague when it came to the golden-eyed woman. He'd taken to ignoring Thorin outright by the time the Company was ready to leave and he'd simply left along with them, clearly comfortable with the idea that she could and would meet with them at some later point.

Best not to think of it. Thorin thought bitterly as he clutched his reins a little tighter and swept his gaze across the foliage on either side of the dew-laden trail. A murmured comment from Fili reminded him of his unwarranted temper that morning.

I'm going to have to apologise for that. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he cast a sideways glance at his nephews.It was either that or face the wrath of Dís… and there wasn't a Dwarf in all of Middle Earth who could withstand one of his sisters' formidable rages. A shout broke his concentration.

"That is an enormous bird." Thorin looked back at Ori, who was peering up at a nearby oak tree. Sure enough, as he and the Company paused looked towards it, a large, jet-black raven perched in one of the lofty boughs above them. Even for a black bird, this one was huge and it's fiery gaze seemed incredibly intense. It was clearly watching them, head arched high and proud.

As Thorin met its cold eyes he started. The faintest trace of memory flashed across his mind, before a streak of white-hot agony took its place. For a moment the world blurred and the intensity of it made Thorin gasp. After a few steadying breaths, he waved away Balins' concerned look away. His head was still buzzing, as though filled with angry insects, but the pain was gone at least. Something was there, at the back of his mind, but whenever he sought to determine what, the pain nearly blinded him. Frustrated but unwilling to fall from his horse in front of his men, Thorin gave up. He glanced up at the bird, scowling and rubbing his temples. It cawed, jet-black feathers rippling in the early morning sunlight.

"Come." He ordered curtly, kicking his horse back into a steady walk. The Company resumed its pace, and Thorin couldn't help an amused snort as the men began to place bets on the hobbit.

"10 marks says he comes." That was Balin, to Dwalin no doubt.

"5 says he doesn't." Fili to Kili.

"20 marks that he comes." Thorin glanced back at the wizard, who was sitting primly on his chestnut gelding, his grey cloak wrapped around him and a single eyebrow quirked.

"Care to make a bet?" He asked, and Thorin smirked.

"On whom?" Gandalf snorted.

"Either, if you so choose." The words were casually said, but Thorin shook his head. He wasn't a gambler.

"They will come, or they will not. Either way, I'll not betting on another persons' life." Gandalf's eyes seemed to soften, ever so slightly. Thorin turned back towards the trail. Another caw sounded. He watched as a dark shadow moved overhead, disappearing into the trees.

"Wait!" A shout sounded through the trees a moment later. Thorin raised a hand, pulling the Company to a halt as a familiar figure burst from the trees. Bilbo's brown head bobbed towards them, and Thorin could see a long stream of paper trailing him. Was that the contract?

"Wait. I've signed it." The hobbit panted, coming to a halt by Balins' pony and holding the paper towards him. With an appraising look, the white-haired dwarf took the contract and examined it through his spectacle. After a moment he nodded.

"It's all in order. Welcome, Master Baggins, to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield." Thorin hid his bemusement.

"Fetch him a mount." He ordered, ignoring – as his men did – the hobbits' weak protests. They moved on again, periodic clinks and groans reaching him as the men traded their bets. Gandalf spoke bracingly to the small being, catching his own bag of winnings triumphantly as he did so. Thorin sighed and kept his eyes on the road, scanning it constantly. As the landscape changed form rolling hills to darker forests, he grew increasingly more wary. After his many eventful meetings of late, he was perturbed to find himself on edge even amongst friends.

And that's clearly the sign of a healthy mind. He sighed and shook himself. No good dwelling on such things now. He was impatient to get on with the task at hand. There had been years of delay, and they couldn't afford to wait now.

OoOoOoOoOoO

They took a late lunch, having bypassed the Burrow Downs and made their way steadily towards Bree. If luck stayed with them, they would make it to the town before nightfall and perhaps have one last comfortable rest, in a bed, before taking to the wilder parts of the East Road. There wouldn't be many more opportunities for such luxury on the road to Erebor and Thorin couldn't deny his men such things. However, although the mood was jovial, Thorin was on edge. The whole time they had been travelling the Company had been tailed by the damned black bird. It was very clear it was tailing them, but for what purpose Thorin couldn't say. He was only mildly comforted by the fact that Gandalf paid it no mind. Thorin presumed it wasn't dangerous, or in the thrall of someone who was, but wizards had very different ideas about what was dangerous or not... and his misgivings only deepened as Kili and Fili took to calling it Askad. It wasn't natural for a bird to be following them. Some in the Company grumbled about bad omens and potents, but Thorin was also aware that, at least for the Dwarfs of Erebor, black birds were a blessing. So, whatever his misgivings, he let the bird continue as it willed.

And right now it patiently waited in a nearby tree, preening its glossy feathers and watching them all with its blazing yellow eyes.

"Here Askad, come on girl." That was Kili. Thorin sighed as his nephew held his open palm towards the bird, with a few scraps of dried meat laid on top. The bird cawed, tossing its head and shuffling away, almost as if it disdained the offering.

"Now we definitely know she's a female." Fili teased and the Company laughed. Kili blushed, scowling at them.

"Well, she has standards, which is more than I can say about you!" Kili retorted. He looked back up at the bird.

"She's beautiful and just like the ones Uncle spoke of in his tales about Erebor."

The creature in question flittered to another branch, ducking her head cockily at them all. Almost as though she understood. Thorin wouldn't be surprsed if she did. At this point he was starting to think she was Gandalf's creature, and such beings had to have some supernatural intelligence to them. He realised that Kili was looking at him and quickly thought back to what had been said. Right, Erebor. He'd had a similar thought himself. Maybe she was one of the birds from Erebor...

"No, she's not of the Ravens." Balin murmured, as though he'd read his King's mind. His eyes twinkled above his snowy beard as the Company looked at him, but he said nothing more.

"It's not natural." Glorin murmured darky, eying her from afar.

"Birds' aren't so…" He drifted off, unable to finish.

"Clever?" Fili finished for him and the Company murmured.

"She has to eat." His youngets nephew looked forlornly at the blackbird and Thorin sighed. Unable to resist pleasing his family, he stood and stretched. Pulling the meat from Kili's hand he nodded to the Company and walked to the base of the birds' tree. She peered down at him imperiously.

"Regal thing, aren't we?" He said and she cawed loudly. He looked down at the meat in his hand. It was some sort of dried rabbit Balin had procured from some village during his travels. It kept well, and definitely came in handy on the road, but it was hardly appetising.

"I know. It's hardly a feast, but it's the best we've got." He murmured to her. She puffed out her chest, fixing him with one round eye. Thorin brought the meat to his lips and she cawed again, loudly and indignantly. He grinned.

"Well, then come get it." He said, holding his hand flat. She tossed her head, clearly torn. Thorin waited patiently, his calm face belying the fact that his arm was fatiguing rapidly. She hopped down a few branches, and again, a memory pierced through the foggy recesses of his mind. As he grasped at it, Thorin hissed in pain – another bolt of agony ripping through his skull. The bird cawed, her eyes now a shimmering gold.

"What's going on...?"

"SHHHHHH!" The whole Company shushed Ori, who fell back into silence as they all watched with bated breath. Now Thorin could remember something. They'd done this before. He and this bird. He wasn't sure how they'd met, or when, but he was sure they had.

"Are we really going to do this again, M'Lady?" He murmured quietly, through teeth clenched against the pain in his head and arm. The bird drew itself up. It regarded him haughtily. It was a mere branch away now, and Thorin couldn't help by admire the gloss of its feathers.

"Aye, I remember. You're definitely not of Erebor, they never had just beautiful feathers." He noted and she seemed to make up her mind. She soared from her perch, coming to land on his outstretched arm. Her weight surprised him. She seemed barely to weigh anything – despite her size. She delicately pecked the dried meat from his palm, clutching it in one claw before tearing into it furiously. She made quick work of it, then preened on his arm.

"Would you mind swapping at all?" He asked, offering his other arm. She flapped and settled herself accordingly. The Company stood in silence.

"Witchcraft for sure, Sire." Nori murmured, and Glorin nodded beside him. Thorin shruggd, looking up to see Gandalf smirked from his seat by the fire.

"Aye, witchcraft." He murmured, before shaking his arm slightly. The black bird caught his meaning and took flight, she flapped once or twice around the glade, then disappeared from view.

OoOoOoOoOoO

As luck would have it, they were caught in a downpour of rain before they reached the River Bree, elt alone the town. For safety, they slowed the ponies so their footing was more secure on the dirt tracks, and oh how the Company grumbled. Thorin kept his thoughts to himself, but he shared his Company's disappointment. It would have been nice to rest in a bed. They made camp beneath a few overhanging beech trees, using their large boughs as protection from the wind and rain. With the wood and undergrowth soaked through, making a fire was next to impossible. He looked around, wanting to ask the Ishtar if he'd spare a bit of magic to make sure they didn't freeze to death before reaching the Mountain, but was surprised to find that he'd disappeared.

"Gandalf?" He called into the trees. The others paused in what they were doing, looking around for the wizard. A shape moved in the trees to his left. Thorin clutched his sword hilt, until he recognised the height of the figure. Gandalf emerged a moment later, a smile on his face.

"Oh, sorry about that." He said cheerfully, but offered no further explanation. The others went back to their work, and Thorin returned to his bedroll. Gandalf seated himself on a mossy root, reached into one of his many pockets and produced his pipe. When it was lit, the smell drifted around their little camp, created odd shapes in the dim light.

"I know Master Baggins isn't familiar with woods-craft, but surely some of you know how to make a fire?" A familiar, rasping voice called out of the gloom. The Company turned to see Ceridwyn striding out of the woods, her dark hair drenched through and her golden eyes glimmering even at a distance. Thoring scowled and ignored her.

"Ceridwyn!" His nephews called, walking over to her.

"We thought that you had abandoned us." Said Fili and Kili sighed heavily.

"We thought that Uncle might have scared you off." He said, and Thorin could feel all three of their gazes on him. Turning lazily he peered at them through the dark.

"Oh no, I just prefer to travel at a distance." She murmured and settled herself down on the damn ground in the centre of their makeshift camp. She looked at Balin and Dwalin.

"Too damp I take it?" She asked and they nodded.

"Aye, 'tis lass." Balin murmured and she smirked. She pointed to the wood near Dwalins' feet.

"Hand me those." She ordered and he bristled. She rolled her eyes.

"Please?" She added, and he chuckled, tossing the logs over. She caught them easily, then one by one she stacked them into a small pyramid. She leaned in close, her pale hands pressed to the wood, and whispered something. To everyone's surprise, steam began to rise from the pyramid. It continued like this for about a minute, before a flicker of light caught their gaze. Under her palms, flames were licking hungrily up the edges of the now dried-out wood. They quickly caught alight, and Ceridwyn rocked back on her heels, a small smile on her face. A cheer went up from the surrounding Dwarfs. They crowded about, getting ready to make some sort of potted meal and dry out their clothes. Ceridwyn herself stood back and came to sit with her back against one of the beach trees. She watched the camp silently, her golden eyes reflecting the flames.

"So, she is a witch." Thorin murmured to Gandalf and the wizard shrugged.

"She's Ceridwyn." The Ishtar replied, puffing away on his pipe.

Thorin couldn't argue with that.

…...

Khuzdul dictionary

Azkad = shadow

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