The elleth from under the mountain

The heavens

Ontario's P.O.V

True to his word Thórin had us up at the crack of dawn. Rousing the sleeping dwarves who voiced their annoyance in varying forms from rolling back over cursing the heavens to clumsily throwing a blunt axe at the leader, resulting in a stern warning to not try it again or said axe would be shoved where the sun doesn't shine.

The somber mood of lasts nights conversation seemingly reflected the weather which had turned.

It was as if the heavens themselves had opened up. Rain tumbling down, instantly soaking our belongings. The overhanging branches of the forest doing little in the way of providing shelter.

I was now grateful for the oilskin cloak, Radagast had convinced me to carry.

At the time I had argued it was a waste of space, just adding more weight to my pack I'd have to carry, but as the heavy droplets rolled down the hood and off the bridge of my nose I silently thanked the wizard for his foresight.

While only my face and legs were damp, most of the dwarves were absolutely saturated, not bothering to dig out their coats, convinced it was a 'light shower' which would soon pass.

When it continued to pour down, they just accepted that they were wet and would deal with the consequences later on in the evening.

I shook my head in disbelief. One of the many things I picked up off the dwarves was they were convinced no matter what they were right, even when they weren't, they were too stubborn to admit their mistake choosing to continue to fight the problem.

"Ontario may I ask you a question," Bilbo asked, "You already did," I replied. His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, always a stick in the mud this one.

I smiled genuinely to let him know I was joking, nodding for him to ask what was plaguing his mind.

"Balin has said that you are a healer, and that is why you are apart of the company, in the event that anyone were to fall ill," he stated. "Yes. Personally I wouldn't trust any of these dwarves to wrap up a set of knives let alone bind a wound," I grinned.

No matter how much they all argued about their capability, I still couldn't look past the time Bofur tried to disinfect an open gash on his arm in Bombur's famous spicy pumpkin soup, as quote on quote "It's something hot, so it will work will it not?,".

"Yet Thórin has voiced his distain for Elves frequently,".

The question wiped the smile from my face any trace of amusement stripped from my features. I knew the silent question he wasn't voicing.

Why was I so special?

What gave me the right for acquittal while the rest of my race was damned in his eyes.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

I cut off his rambling.

"My parents were good friends with king Thrain when he ruled beneath the mountain. As he was there when our people were under attack from the goblin king,".

"When Smaug took the lonely mountain, they in turn answered Thrain's call for help in the battle for Moria," I said quietly, so the others would not here. No doubt this was one conversation on the loyalty of Elves Thórin would hope remained unheard.