You were timid, you always had been, and no one really knew why. It couldn't have been because you had never been around a lot of people; you had used to live in Bree. It couldn't have been a trait of your kin; you were a dwarf. The company of Thorin Oakenshield eventually settled on the answer that you were naturally a shy person.
Oh how wrong they were.
The truth was that you had been badly abused for several years, from your young life until more recently. Your cruel blacksmith master had resided on the outskirts of Bree, where your parents had raised you until they unexpectedly passed away from a spreading disease. You had been lucky at first to have avoiding catching the illness, but soon after you had wished it had taken you with your dear father and mother.
There wasn't an orphanage in Bree, but there was something of a poor house for the weak and lowly. The matron that oversaw the children there had decided you would be best put to work in the local blacksmith's shop.
Oh how wrong she was.
Garven, the smith, had begun to abuse you in the first five minutes after the matron dropped you off. Anytime you'd do something he didn't like, he'd hit you over the head, box your ears, slap you across the face, or beat you with his broomstick. He always yelled at you, but he tended to only hit you when he was drunk...which was constantly, really. But, you thought, maybe this will all pass. Maybe one day he'll stop abusing me.
Oh how wrong you were.
The constant physical abuse prevented you from showing yourself in public, lest someone ask you what had happened, and then Garven punishing you for revealing the fact that he had been hurting you. This constant state of remaining indoors caused only more attention from Garven, which is the last thing you wanted.
All this abuse and overwork (as he forced you to assist him in the shop and forges) lasted for a solid seventeen years, and when you were fifty-seven years of age, you built up the courage to run off in the night, the baker's son assisting you in ridding yourself of your wrist and ankle shackles.
You were somehow able to get to the very center of Bree, but you were absolutely exhausted. You rarely got sleep while under the constant control of Garven, and rarely did you eat. You had dragged yourself into the entrance of The Prancing Pony, and begged for food and rest. The innkeeper instantly felt sorry for you once he'd heard your story, and let you stay for as long as you wanted, and after a while you began to serve him in the tavern part of the inn. It was infinitely better than being under the service of Garven. It stayed this way for another thirteen happy years, until you met Gandalf.
The old wizard was not a stranger to the content of Bree rumors, you had heard much of him. But he was even stranger and kinder than you had heard. He listened to your tales of woe, of your pain and recent happiness. Upon hearing the fact that you wished to be out of Bree as soon as possible, he excitedly told you about the need for another member in a company he was assembling. Apparently the dwarf prince Thorin Oakenshield wished deeply to slay the dragon Smaug and take back his homeland, Erebor.
You sympathized with this. You knew what it felt like to have something taken from you, and to be pushed around by someone who was bigger than yourself. You had quickly agreed to come along with Gandalf and share in his adventure, and the innkeeper, Darius, who had helped you, sheltered you, and basically looked after you for thirteen years had to let you go. You were seventy years old, plenty old enough to take care of yourself.
It was not long after this that you met Thorin Oakenshield himself, and quite soon afterwards had met the rest of his company, including Bilbo.
It had been about ten months since your journey to Erebor started, and Gandalf said it might be wise to go through Bree to stop at the inn for a while, which would be especially good for you, since it had been almost a year since you'd seen Darius.
So you all traveled to the center of Bree, straight to The Prancing Pony, Gandalf purposely leading everyone around the area of land where Garven dwelled, just to be sure that you would have no chance of running into your old master.
After putting all the ponies up in the communal animal stalls near the inn, you all entered the facility, the anticipation of proper food and rest heavy in the air.
You looked around the inside of the tavern, looking for Darius, but ending up spotting someone you had hoped to never see again.
Garven.
You inhaled sharply, which caught Bilbo's attention. The twelve other dwarves were all conversing and laughing with each other, too busy to notice your sudden onslaught of fear.
Unfortunately, Garven had laid eyes on you as well, and seeing as the other dwarves had made their way to the front desk to reserve rooms and acquire food, they were not by your side to help protect you.
"Bilbo," you whispered frantically as you saw Garven slowly get up from his seat. "Bilbo, go get Thorin. Tell him it's an emergency."
The hobbit nodded quickly at this, and took off to warn the leader of the group about your impending danger.
But before help could be brought, Garven reached you. You did little to move out of the way or run, the fear in your heart paralyzing the rest of your body.
"So," Garven sneered in his low, raspy voice. "You've finally decided to return to me, after thirteen years, girl?"
You swallowed thickly, staring up at him as you were much shorter than him, being that you were a dwarf and he was a human. You tried to reply, you wanted to yell at him and hit him, but you couldn't do a thing. You simply stared with wide, frightened eyes.
Garven scoffed. "Stupid as ever, I see. Come on, girl. It's time you came back to the shop with me," he said threateningly and grabbed her hair in a fistful of (h/c) locks.
You shrieked in pain, your voice finally working again, and the loud noise caught the attention of a few in the tavern, but they were unfortunately too drunk to process too much of what was going on. The dwarves of Erebor still payed no mind, thinking it was just regular noise.
"L-let go!" you protested as Garven dragged you back to his seat.
"No!!" he shouted back, and slapped you across your face. Hard. That sound alone was enough to bring all else in the bar to a halt. The dwarves looked your way, as did everyone else present, and they instantly ran to attack your predator.
"Leave her alone, you swine!!" Thorin yelled at Garven, who drew a small, flimsy dagger from his belt, as if that would sway the dwarf prince, or any of them.
"Never! She's my servant, but she ran away thirteen years ago. She's my property!!"
"I am not!" you protested. "I belong to no o-"
"Shut up!!" Garven screamed at you, causing you to immediately close you mouth and sit on the bench, mumbling a 'sorry.'
This sent one dwarf in particular over the edge. Fili pounced on the evil blacksmith, disarming him easily, and punching him repeatedly in the face, all the while yelling at him about how he should never strike a woman, or claim that (y/n) was his 'property' ever again.
No one stopped him.
Fili only ceased when he noticed that Garven wasn't moving anymore, and probably not breathing much either.
The blond prince panted a bit from the exertion, and wiped his now bloodied hands off on a towel that someone handed him. The other dwarves were now discussing these interesting new events with the keeper of the inn. He looked up to see you, whom he fancied, still sitting on the bench.
However, you were looking up at Fili, your tear-filled eyes trained on his, your lower lip trembling. "Are you alright, my dear?" he asked gently, reaching out to caress the red slap mark on your cheek that made him boil with anger inside.
You flinched harshly, and pulled back just a bit from Fili, who looked at you with immense sorrow in his eyes. "I won't hurt you, (y/n)," he promised you. "I swear."
He reached forward again, and this time you did not flinch. Fili leaned in close to inspect the slap mark on your beautiful skin, and felt himself heat up from the close proximity. He pulled back to look into your eyes. "I promise I will never let anything like this happen again, (y/n)—amrâlimê."
Your eyes widened, knowing the meaning of this Khuzdul word. A small smile made its way to your lips, and you let it consume you. "I love you too, Fili," you declared excitedly, pulling him into a huge hug, and kissing him on the cheek, causing him to blush deep red.
You knew this would be the beginning of something much, much better.