Book 1: Come Home [Thorin Oakenshield]

Chapter 6

The company traveled along the hills, through small forests, across vast grasslands, and over mountains. All of the sights were breathtaking in Poppy's eyes, having never seen anything quite like it before. She was excited, taking in such beauty and unable to look away. The pony didn't need her to be paying attention thankfully. He could very well steer himself in a pack of his own kind. Very much used to following since Thorin's pony always acted as leader.

"Do you like it, lass?"

Her head turned to find Balin had ridden up beside her. "I love it. There's nothing like this near the Shire. When we do return, how can that compare to any of this?"

Balin chuckled. "I think the same thing all the time. This never gets old. And believe me, I am."

Poppy laughed, settling into a pleasant conversation, when Thorin interrupted, "What tools have you brought?"

Head picking up, the Dwarf didn't even look in their direction as he awaited an answer.

"The standard," Poppy answered. "Cloth strips, a file, whetstone, oil, among other things. And I can use wood from what nature presents to me. Then various tools that are tailored for the weapons in the company."

He grunted as an answer.

"Don't worry, Thorin, I know what I'm doing. If I run low I can always purchase more along the way. How much do you lot think you're going to damage your weapons?"

Balin chuckled.

"I just want to be sure you're here for a reason," the Dwarf answered. "Having to worry about one inexperienced fighter is enough, but two, that is trouble in itself."

"You do know there are more to people than meets the eye."

Thorin didn't respond as the two behind him went back to talking on their own. So odd, the way this Hobbit carried herself. Most of their race didn't have her wit. Bilbo, a prime example of this, always stumbled over his words when nervous, fainting at the thought of pain and death, and only just beginning to understand what it meant to travel great distances on the back of a pony. Poppy seemed to be adjusting a lot quicker than he was. How could the two even possibly be related?

They took up camp on a cliff's edge as the sun began to set. A clear view of the valley below for them to see anything that may move in the darkness. Once dismounted the Dwarves split themselves up to take up tasks to prep the area. Some went to gather firewood. Others helped set up camp and remove wrapped food from pouches that needed to be cooked. And a handful tended to the ponies. Poppy was one of them, helping brush down the animals and airing out the blankets that sat between their coats and the saddles. Bilbo moved around the rocks looking for firewood and when he returned, the Hobbit found Dwalin talking with his cousin, while she held his weapon in hand.

"It could use a sharpening," she mused, looking back up at the Dwarf. "If you wouldn't mind."

"Go ahead," he said. "Let's see what yer made of."

Taking it as a challenge, she sat on a rock taking out her materials and setting to work. At the sight of the young woman with the ax in hand it drew the attention of others in the company. She never looked up once to pay mind to them, working well under the pressure, focused, calm, something that mildly impressed Thorin. If it had been Bilbo, the burglar would be fumbling over himself most likely.

She performed the task so quickly when Poppy handed over the weapon in Dwalin's direction he took it with an arched brow. There was no way she was already done. Shoulders shrugging he walked towards a tree near the edge of the cliff, one with a wide trunk and adjusted his grip. Pulling the weapon back he whirled it around, expecting it to easily get stuck in the wood so he prepared for impact. But the blade sliced clean through, the tree tipping over and falling off the rocks. He nearly fell over too, having not anticipated needing to catch his balance. Surprise ran through the group, especially Dwalin, who stared at the space the pine once occupied before turning round on the blacksmith.