There was just so much blood. I had never seen so much in my life.

It happened so fast. There was no way for me to know they were coming. I didn't know that my father had been borrowing money to get by.

I didn't know that the payment for his debt was death.

I watched them shove that knife through his chest and saw the crimson blood pour from where his heart had been.

Now it was just a shriveled up lump in his chest.

I got out before they could set the house on fire.

My body aches. I can feel exhaustion weighing me down, my feet stumbling over the earth and vegetation. I can barely pick them up.

I had managed to scrounge up some food before they burned it down. A loaf of bread and some spiced, dehydrated meat. It lasted me for a day.

I stumble again, using a tree to keep my balance. Propping myself up, I rub my face, trying to keep myself from collapsing. There's a throbbing pain against my ribs where one of the men sliced me with his sword. My tunic is sticking to the wind, the fabric scraping the tender flesh every time I breath.

The combination of blood loss, pain, and hunger is taking its toll on me. Kneeling in front of the tree, I rest for a moment, trying to catch my breath. The world spins around me for a few moments before I finally drift off into a troubled sleep.

It feels like I've only slept for a few minutes when I wake up. The sky is a dark midnight blue. Stars shine through the branches of the trees. The moon bathes the clearing in soft light.

My legs are stiff when I stand up. If I hadn't been wearing long boots, my calves and shins would surely be covered is scrapes and bruises. Resting seemed to have helped. My body seems to have gained some of its strength back. My gash has finally stopped bleeding, dried blood making my shirt stick to my ribs and stomach.

The sound of voices takes me out of my trance. Through the trees I can see wisps of smoke curling in the air. Flames lick at the sky.

Suspicion immediately claws at me, my defenses going up. They must have come from a different direction since I've still gone unnoticed. Stepping forward, I move carefully through the foliage. As I get closer, the voices become louder and more rambunctious. It's clear to me that they are men, deep tones ringing throughout the forest. Laughter rings out.

As I get closer I can see that there are twelve of them. My immediate thought is, dwarves. They sit around the campfire, stoking a fire under a pot of what looks like food.

My stomach rumbles. Hidden behind a true, I scan the clearing. A few feet away, a pack sits. My heart races in anticipation of food, a flush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. With my newfound energy, I crawl over to the pack, being careful to stay out of sight.

The firelight is dim where I am, so I manage to remain hidden. When I reach the pack, I immediately dig around and find more food than I could ever imagine. I pull out a few rolls and stuff them in my pocket. I'm so hungry that I can't restrain myself from munching on one right then and there. I almost groan in pleasure, the food filling my hollow stomach.

I feel a little guilty taking the food from these dwarves. My father was a dwarf. He made toys for the people of the human village we live near.

Well, we used to.

My mother on the other hand, was the spawn of elf and human. She had the elegant grace and beauty of the elves of Rivendell, and fierce personality of the humans. She hated that I preferred to hunt and fight with my father. She would have preferred that I became a regular, boring housewife.

I can still remember the day that she died.

Kili

I chuckled, shoving my brother into the tree. We were on guard duty, scanning the area. To be quite honest, we weren't really paying attention. Given, it was mostly my fault. Fili attempted several times to get me to be serious and do what Uncle Thorin had told us to do.

As we draw nearer to the camp, I can immediately tell that something is not quite right. Fili tries to push me back but I shush him, my hand going to the sword in my belt.

A small mass kneels by our food pack. Suspicion immediately grips me and I surge forward, gripping the scoundrel by the collar.

A yelp rings out. Those sitting by the campfire are too preoccupied to notice.

The girl kicks her legs frantically. I can tell she's female by the feminine way the curse words leave her mouth. A few rolls fall out of her pocket as she squirms.

"Put me down, you fucki-" She growls out. I comply, dropping her to the ground but still remaining a firm hold on the collar of her shirt. Yanking her forward, I draw her near to my face so that I can get a clear look at her. I'm trying for intimidation. It seems to work because her eyes widen with barely contained fear, a scowl plastering across her features. I can't see much of her face with her back to the campfire. Her hair is a russet gold, the light turning it to fire. She's small, and if it weren't for the fact that her feet were tiny and not large, I would assume that she was a hobbit.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" I ask. I'm several inches taller than her, green eyes level with my chin. My brother places a hand on my shoulder. I glance at him and he gives me a silent look. I realize that the girl is quivering so much I feel like she might be convulsing. Fili's gentle hand convinces me to let go and with a thrust, I release her from my grip.

She stumbles backwards and trips over the sword near her feet. Hitting the ground with a loud thumb, she cries out.

Our companions hear it this time because they all jump up from their seats; Bombur a little slower than the others. Uncle Thorin is by my side in a second, a steely glare pointed in the girl's direction. I huff in frustration. It seemed like every chance I got to prove myself to him, everything went wrong.

"What's this?" He asks, his deep voice heavy with authority. The girl scoots back, quivering. I'm shocked as to how she can portray fear and defiance at the same time, the lighting highlighting a death glare.

Fili speaks before I get the chance, his tawny hair brightened by firelight. "We found her stealing from the food pack."

All eyes turn to the girl. Her emerald green tunic has crumbs sticking to dried blood. In the moments before, I hadn't noticed that she was injured. Where the fabric clings to her chest, her ribs jut out. Her skin has a sickly gray sheen to it, the flush of her cheeks contrasting.

Everyone is looking at her expectantly. "I-" Her lip quivers and her eyes glimmer with fresh tears. In a heartbeat she swipes them away and fixes everyone with another glare.

Rylae

I hadn't expected it when I was jerked from the ground. My heart dropped into my stomach as something yanked me backwards.

Fear grips me and I try to hide it with an angry growl, "Put me down, you fucki-" A few colorful words pop into my head.

I am released, only to be spun around and yanked by my collar again. A face is illuminated in front of me. I know he's a dwarf, from his stature, but he's much too beautiful in my opinion. He lacks a large nose and beard. Brown hair frames his face, a few short pieces falling across his forehead and into his eyes.

He spits out a question. I can feel myself shaking violently. A hand is placed on the boy's shoulder and after a moment, I am thrust to the ground.

My yelp of pain as my wound tears open again and my sore joints hit the ground rouses those by the campfire. In a heartbeat I'm surrounded.

A burly dwarf stands by the two from before. It's clear to me that they are related in some way, all having good looks not found often in dwarves.

He's the leader, for sure, his voice containing power unequaled by any I've heard.

"What's this?" He fixes me with a look of disgust. I scoot back, trying to maintain my defiance.

The blonde dwarf from before speaks, the midnight hair of his partner glints in the moonlight as he moves forward to say something. The tawny haired brother speaks clearly, "We found her stealing from the food pack."

I flush a deep red. I mumble, trying to reply. "I-" I can feel my eyes prick with tears and I wipe them away furiously.

The leader continues to glare, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well?"

I huff with frustration, crossing my own arms. The movement pulls at my wound and I yelp again. "I- You fucking try going 4 days without food." The man holds my gaze for what seems like forever.

He's about to speak again when a short dwarf with a long white beard and sweet face steps forward, sending a soft look in my direction and then a pointed look at the leader. "Thorin, she's injured."

The name sounds familiar but I'm too preoccupied to think too much about it. Thorin scowls at the old dwarf and then sighs in defeat. "Suit yourself, Balin." Thorin looks to the tawny and midnight ones beside him. "Fili, Kili, you're in charge of her. Treat her wounds and get her some food." He stomps away in a huff.

My personal tumblr: mista-boggins