Far Over The Misty Mountains ...

The company had been riding for what seemed like hours, across open green plains in the baking sun, but Calla failed to notice this as she giggled, listening to the stories the young princes were telling her.

“And then this idiot ...” laughed Fili gesturing towards his brother with one hand while keeping his other tightly braced on his pony's reigns “decides that now would be the best time to slide down the grand stairs on an upturned shield, not realising Thorin was holding council with some dwarves from the west in the hall below. He slid through their group, screaming from the top of his lungs all the way. He only stopped when he collided with the wall. I thought Thorin was going to kill him, he was so angry.”

Calla roared with laughter, a mental image of a fully grown Kili sliding down some stairs, and being dragged away by the collar by a furious Thorin. She looked over her shoulder at the dark haired prince who was smiling fondly at the memory, his skin coated with a sheen of sweat from the unbearable heat. “How long ago was that? You must have been young.”

“I was young, very young.” he said, immediately being cut off by his brother who was eager to set the record straight, “What nonsense, you were forty three, it was your birthday near days before.”

Calla wrinkled her eyebrows, realising she had no idea what age the two men beside her were. “And how old are you now? If you don't mind me asking?” She did not want to offend Kili, but she was curious.

He chuckled quietly and grabbed a rag from his over coat pocket, wiping the sweat away from his forehead quickly before answering, Calla gripped on tighter to the saddle feeling less than secure now that only one of his arms was holding her in her place. “I am sixty three, my last birthday was a month past.” Her eyebrows rose dramatically into her hair line as she studied his handsome features. “What?” He asked self consciously as he felt her big dark eyes studying him.

“You both look so young for your ages. Hobbits, even at seventy can start to look, well, a bit worn around the edges. But you both look so … youthful.” she exclaimed stuck for a better word. The brothers burst out in to laughter.

“Is that so?” Kili asked a grin plastered across his face, “And how old are you then, Miss Took?”
Calla shot him a mock horrified look, “Well … for royalty, you know little of chivalry, you never ask a lady her age.” she scolded trying to keep a straight face, “But if you must know, I'm fifty one.”

“Ah, not as young as we thought, maybe we should call you 'Old Miss Took.'” Joked Fili, who veered his pony to the left, to get away from the arm Calla had thrown out to slap his shoulder. The accidental force behind her gesture made her slip slightly in the saddle, her small body nearly tumbling from the horse. Kili quickly wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulling her back into the seat, and holding her against his chest. “Thats enough of that, don't want you falling off, now do we?” he spoke quietly, the words making his chest rumble slightly against her back.

*****
A cold nights chill was beginning to set in the air as the fifteen companions came to a sheltered rocky outcrop. Thorin halted his pony both listening and looking around to make sure the area was safe before calling loudly enough for all to hear, “We shall stop and rest here for the night.”

The dwarves chattered happily amongst themselves at the declaration, glad to have some time to rest and cool down after the blazing heat of the day. After tying the ponies to a near by fallen tree, they settled themselves around the rocks, some taking the opportunity to sleep and some just enjoying being off of their pony's back. Calla sat beside the fire, her hands busily sewing a patch onto the elbow of one of Bilbo's spare coats he had brought. She tuned out the laughing and singing voices around her, concentrating solely on the silver thread she was weaving through the old fabric. The coat in question had belonged to her father Henna Took years ago, and had been given to Bilbo when he grew enough to fit it. The buttons were odd from years of repairs and the hem was freying but she understood why Bilbo kept it, it was something that reminded him of a once brave hobbit, who had set out on adventures wearing that very coat. She smiled to herself as she remembered her mother's words every time Henna had slipped it onto his shoulders, “Not that moth eaten thing again … I should have used it as a dish towel years ago.” no matter how many times she had uttered those words, Calla's mother had never turned it in to a dish cloth, but had given it to her only nephew, telling him that one day he'd need it when he had his own adventures.

She finished the stitching and held it up to the fire light, admiring her handiwork, before passing it back to Bilbo, “Here you are, one day I shall teach you how to sew, and then I wouldn't need to be your personal seamstress.” she lectured him, as he folded the newly fixed coat, tucking it back into his leather satchel before giving her a quick one armed hug. She was about to put her sewing kit away when she felt a soft tap on her shoulder. She turned coming face to face with Bifur, who was holding a pair of hole ridden socks up to her. He made a gesture towards them, a muted moan coming from the old warrior's lips. She smiled kindly at him, knowing what he was asking her, even through his inability to communicate. “Of course Bifur, I will have them done for you in a few moments.” she said as she bit through another length of thread, feeding it through they eye of her needle. The old dwarf bowed to her in gratitude and retreated to his former seat beside his cousins Bofur and Bombur. She quickly resumed sewing, making sure she didn't leave any gaps in the heavy fabric.

“You know, you could make a pretty penny on this journey with that skill of yours.” a soft voice said from behind her.
“You think so?” she asked Kili, a hint of humour lacing her lowered voice.
“Of course, who knows how months with fourteen men who couldn't even sew on a button if they were forced to. There may be be many a thing that needs your sewing skill before we reach the end.” the tail of his sentence was marred by a yawn, but Calla understood him perfectly well. “Who taught you to sew so delicately? You hold that needle as if it will splinter beneath your fingers any second.” She smiled as she tied the last knot off, sliding her hands inside the socks to examine them. “My mother.” she said, taking the socks back to Bifur and displaying her handiwork to him. He bowed to her graciously once again, popping them on to his now bare feet.

She made her way back to the fire, packing up tiny sewing box, and tucking it back within the folds of her bag, before retreating to the shaddows to sit beside Kili, who had removed his coat, laying it behind his head as a cushion, and a quietly snoring Fili, whose moustache braids swayed with every in take of breath. “When my father would take my brothers and Bilbo out fishing in Bree, my mother would sit me down and teach me the skills of the home, cooking, cleaning, reading.” she whispered, not wanting to wake the elder Oakenshield brother, “it used to be our Sunday afternoons together. But sometimes I used to beg her to let me go to fishing too, she would give in, but tell me that it was not the way a young girl should behave. I've always thought there was more to life than behaving the way the folk of the Shire expected of me.” She drew her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them in an attempt to keep away the cold that was seeping over her. Kili saw her actions and automatically removed his leather overcoat from behind his head, draping it around her shoulders, it was to far too big for her, but it served as a good wind barrier. “Thank you.” she whispered as she buried her face into the collar, feeling its soft, fur lining against her skin.

“and now here I am” she continued, looking out over the darkened horizon, “sat on a rock in the middle of no where with a band of dwarves, a wizard and Bilbo, starting my own adventure. I know my Granny Brandybuck, would have turned pale as the moon at the notion of it.” Kili chuckled, his eyes surveying the area around them, as a comfortable silence descended.

Not ten minutes later however, Calla's blood ran cold as a loud howl sounded through the air, waking every Dwarf with a start. “Uh, what, uh, what was that?” Bilbo asked nervously as he turned away from Myrtle his pony, the half eaten apple he was secretly feeding her still held in the palm of his hand.

“The call of a Warg.” Kili said, his keen eyes looking around the land scape for any sign of enemies. “Wargs?” Calla asked, swallowing heavily, she had heard of these fierce creatures before, massive rabid wolves ridden by blood thirsty orcs.
“Oh yes. The low lands are crawling with them.” Fili answered any hit of sleep gone from both his face and voice.