A/N: Sorry in advanced for the short chapter! Also sorry if it's rushed and kind of boring. The next chapter is where things actually get interesting, I promise.

Also, for those that have played Skyrim and might know, remember the old lady in Solitude who was asking about her daughter, who you later find out died in a Stormcloak ambush? Well her daughter is Fura, but Fura still might as well be an oc since she was never actually alive in the game.

AND THEN SHAMELESS SELF-ADVERTISING: My friend and I made an amazing and totally serious entry to the Hobbit Fan Challenge, so if you're feel generous totally vote for us here at "fanchallenge (period) thehobbit (period) com (forward slash) ?entryid=104" (for the technologically challenged, remove the spaces and add the periods and slash bla bla bla). If for whatever reason the link doesn't work, just type "Inu" into the search bar and our video is the only one that pops us. You don't even have to watch the video and it only takes a second to vote. It would mean a lot! :))

Fura Morrard sat cross-legged on the dirt floor of her tent, staring blankly at the unopened letter she held in her hands. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, and the squadron Legion soldiers would begin departing at any moment. She worried that there wouldn't be a quiet moment in Whiterun, so this might be one of the last times she'd be able to think in peace. There wasn't a name on the parchment aside from her own, but she didn't need much to know exactly who it was from.

She crumpled it up in a decisive move, but stopped herself from throwing it away, opting to stuff into her pack instead.

It was at that moment a roar shook the ground beneath her.

The soldier jumped to her feet at the noise and swiftly moved outside the tent, grabbing her shortsword on her way out. Another roar enveloped her, and the rumbling, crackling sound of incredible heat was all the warning she got before flames could be seen rolling over the houses of Rorikstead.

The word "Dragon!" rang through the air and Fura swore her blood froze. Time did not slow however, and just as soon as the panic hit her, the camp was overtaken in a dark shadow. Fura was just quick enough to evade the fire that erupted from the dragon's maw as she and several others dove just out of reach. Others weren't so lucky, but the fire was so sudden and hot, that most didn't even have the chance to scream. Fura fell to the ground, and began scrambling to duck behind the burning stalls of the camp, the horses having run away long before everyone else. The dragon roared again, this time much closer, and the sound was so loud it left her deaf to nothing but pained ringing in her ears.

Though she couldn't hear it, she could certainly feel the vibrations as the beast landed on the row of houses next to her. The iron arrows of the guards bounced uselessly off the dragon's hide, which meant their axes and swords would only be useless against it as well.

Someone collapsed ten feet in front of her, their body charred and mangled beyond recognition, and Fura watched them as they reached out to her in their final moments. It was then the tears began to sting her eyes and she shut them, clasping her hands against her ears and she began to curl in on herself, hoping to shut out the sight of the person's anguish completely.

"Face me, Dovahkiin," the dragon bellowed, his voice shaking the ground, and Fura winced in pain as a warmth began leaking out of one of her ears, and pulled a hand away to see it was blood. She looked back up to where the person had fallen, but their body was now completely still, their arm still outstretched towards her.

The sight clicked something in her. The Legion might have her head if any in Rorikstead survived this day, but Fura realized she didn't want to die, helpless and without a fighting chance, her body distorted and unrecognizable.

So she got to her feet and ran. She didn't know where she was running to, and didn't care as long as she got as far away from Rorikstead as she possibly could.

Thorin was temporarily speechless, his mouth slightly agape, as Cynder's words took a moment to register.

"A dragon?" he finally repeated.

The woman nodded. "It's been after me for quite some time," she said, checking her bow with careful hands. Thorin frowned.

"A dragon is following you?" he asked blankly, to which she nodded again. The dwarf rolled his eyes, leaning back a little in disbelief. "A dragon?" he repeated once more, raising his voice.

Cynder smirked. "You're not from around here, are you?" she replied, drawing several large arrows from her quiver. They were black like her armor and much like the black arrow that must have been used to bring down Smaug, Thorin thought.

"As far as my knowledge goes, the last of the great dragons have been slain," he declared, following Cynder as she began to trudge down the hill once again. His words were met with loud, hysterical laughs.

"You've been in that temple for a long time, haven't you?" she asked, shoulders still shaking from her laughter. "Do you even know where you are?"

Thorin paused, furrowing his brow, giving a long look to his surroundings. They were surrounded by wilderness, and there were no visible landmarks to give him an idea of where he might be.

Cynder seemed to notice his frustration. "We're close to Rorikstead," she offered, "does that ring a bell?"

Thorin shook his head. "I've never heard of it," he admitted.

The woman stopped walking so she could turn and face him. "You must at least know we're in Skyrim," she said, and Thorin's deepening frown only further concerned her. "You have heard of that, I hope?"

Thorin was once again silent for a few moments, before emitting a low, "No."

Silence passed between them once again as Cynder looked down at him in puzzled contemplation. She finally opened her mouth to say something when a low rumble came from the distance, cutting her off. "Like I said," she said slowly, continuing to eye him inquisitively, "there are more important things to attend to." She then turned once more to head in the direction of the rumble before adding, "Though I hope you survive this upcoming battle. You…interest me."

Her words sent a twinge of unease through Thorin, but he said nothing in return. Instead he considered parting ways with the odd—and dangerous—woman, since he hadn't expected the trouble to be a dragon of all things. Besides, he'd been dead, and would most likely die again if he attempted to battle a dragon.

You don't know her, you owe her nothing, a little voice told him, this is not your battle.

A noise from the bushes in front of them distracted him from his thoughts, and Cynder had her bow drawn before he could blink. A young woman dressed in steel armor stumbled out in front of them, burns on her face and arms. Cynder frowned, but lowered her bow.

The woman began sputtering words so fast that neither of them could catch much of it. "I must get away from here," she pleaded, trailing off. The woman nearly fell over, but Cynder held her up by the shoulder.

"She's in shock," Thorin stated, tightening the grip on his sword. Cynder nearly chuckled, but instead she put her hands on the woman's shoulders and looked her in the eyes.

The woman's shoulders were heaving. "It all happened so quickly," she said.

"Take a deep breath; I need you to calm down, and tell me where the dragon is," Cynder told her clearly.

The woman did as she was told, and began taking in slow, shaky breaths—eventually, she calmed down enough to speak. "Rorikstead," she said, "the dragon attacked Rorikstead."

Cynder gave the woman a pat on the shoulder and backed away. "Of course he is," Cynder muttered bitterly, biting back a curse. She marched forward once again in renewed determination, but stopped and looked back when she noticed Thorin wasn't following her.

"Are you still coming?" she asked, to which Thorin was silent. Cynder furrowed her brow. "If this is about leaving her, I can assure you there will be many more like her if we don't act quickly."

That Thorin already knew; it wasn't the injured woman that concerned him as much as his renewed will to live. "I'm afraid I can't join you," he finally said. The words felt wrong as they fell off his tongue; it wasn't like a dwarf to turn down a fight.

Cynder bit the inside of her mouth, but nodded. "Very well, I understand," she replied, "dragon slaying isn't for everyone, and this won't be the first time I've fought one alone."

Alone. That was the word that stuck with Thorin the most, as they walked away from one another. The dwarves of Erebor couldn't defeat one with an entire army, so whatever power she possessed take on a dragon alone must have been dark, and volatile, and it would probably be safest to stay away from her anyhow, especially if she had dragons out for her blood.

But walking away felt wrong, and more importantly he felt like he was walking away from something important; something that could bring him closer to finding a reason for everything that was happening.

Thorin glanced over to the young woman who was still with him, following him like a shadow.

"You look like a soldier," he stated, and the woman nodded slowly.

"I was recently recruited into the Imperial Legion," she replied shakily with a nod, saying the name of another thing Thorin had never heard of. "I was supposed to be going on my first assignment today."

"Where are the rest of your men?" he asked.

The woman looked down, almost shamefully. "I don't know," she admitted, "I saw some of them die when the dragon attacked, and I didn't stay long enough to learn the fate of the rest."

Thorin huffed. "So you're a deserter," he declared.

"I didn't join the Imperials to fight dragons!" she snapped. "Our weapons were useless against it, and none of us stand a chance. If the others are smart, they'll run as well."

"But do you actually believe you did the right thing?" Thorin asked hesitantly, to which the woman was silent for a few moments.

"I don't know," she eventually admitted.

Silence fell between them for a few moments as Thorin fell into his thoughts once again. Finally, with a grumble, he turned to the young woman and looked to her with determination.

"Show me the way to Rorikstead," he ordered.

The woman's eye widened, and she shook her head. "You had your chance to go, but you let it walk away," she replied, taking a few steps back. "I refuse to go back there."

"You ran like a coward," Thorin said, raising his voice, "you didn't even stop to help survivors."

"You don't know what I saw!" the woman exclaimed, taking more steps back. Thorin wanted to laugh, but didn't.

"I've seen the horrors of dragon-fire, I know them as well as any," he stated grimly, lowering his voice. "But I don't ask that you fight by my side; only that you show me the way."

The woman fell silent, and after a moment her shoulders sagged. "Very well," she finally agreed, "but I'm leaving you as soon as we reach the road."