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. . .

THORIN 

. . .

Lost in thoughts, Thorin's fingers glided across his bandaged leg. Today and yesterday they had combed Moria, looking for a sign of his father. There had been skeletons everywhere, some still spreading the stench of death. Dwarfs and orcs, mixed up as if they belonged to one people.

Memories had plagued him all day long. He could still hear the dead cries of the men. He could still see the head of his grandfather rolling through the dust, reliving the fight with Azog that followed. He remembered the panic that had taken control of him when he found his little brother on the battlefield, covered in blood and barely breathing.

It had been too much for him. He hadn't been able to bear the presence of the two elves any longer, and he had rushed away, slipped and fell down a hill, his leg cut open by some sharp rock.

For a moment there had been that hope that Scar would bandage it, just so he could feel her soft fingers on his skin, but it had been Elladan who had nurtured him.

Thorin knew nothing about Scar he hadn't known before their journey started. Sometimes she was gone for days; then all he heard were Elladan's complaints, who still didn't trust her. He believed it was Scar who made sure they weren't attacked by orcs and wargs and he was convinced that it could only lead to something bad.

Thorin however saw no harm in it; he was just relieved they hadn't been overrun yet.

"Where do you want to look now?"

Thorin looked up, feeling caught. She might not be able to hear his thoughts, but it was a strange feeling when someone you thought about was showing up all of a sudden.

"Among the dwarf kingdoms that are still left," he muttered. "Although I do not know which those are."

He studied her face, wondering if she knew more than she wanted him to believe. Azog wanted to wipe out his family. If she was really so close with his followers, she had to know that. Maybe she even knew where his father was. But why would she keep that information to herself?

Thorin felt guilty about the accusing and suspicious thoughts. Was it Elladan's hatred that was dragging him a long? A hatred that stemmed from a broken heart and was thereby anything but objective?

"Why do you accompany us, Scar?" he asked, sighing.

Elladan had wanted to explore the surroundings a bit more, so he assumed the elf wasn't near.

"You still haven't moved past that?"

"No," Thorin answered honestly. "You seem to be friends with the orcs and I know there's quite a price on my head."

He hadn't dare to admit that before, but by now he knew Scar wouldn't be surprised by the revelation.

"Don't you think I've had more than enough possibilities to turn you over to them?"

Thorin shrugged his shoulders. She was right.

"Then why did you join us?"

"Why did Elladan join you?" she countered. "You also question his intentions?"

"Elladan is my friend."

Scar laughed briefly; it sounded anything but joyful. "He was my friend too, but the moment I needed him the most he turned his back on me."

Thorin looked aside, surprised. Never before she'd told him anything about her past.

"I know how it feels to lose your family," she said eventually, staring into the distance. "And I also know how it feels when you're completely on your own." She returned her face towards him.

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