Kili's Journal, 7th Entry (Translated from Dwarven Runes)
The hobbit woman surprised me greatly when she said that she would accompany me on the search for Uncle Thorin. The day we found her lying in the snow, she had appeared small and weak, ill equipped to even survive the journey back to Ered Luin. Now, I was beginning to see that she was tougher than she appeared.
"Do you think anyone suspects anything?" I asked her, as she had gone to the mead hall.
"I don't think so," Hilda said.
"We'd best get going, just incase," I said. Hilda was able to get onto Bungo's back without my help and I got up behind her. The wound still hurt and Hilda noticed.
"Are you sure you're up to this?" she asked.
"Quite," I replied, but to be honest, I wasn't really sure that I was. Pride or maybe stubbornness kept me from letting on how bad the wound sapped my strength. We kept to the quieter paths, hoping that we wouldn't encounter anyone. We had decided at the stables that it would be best just to take Bungo. Hilda's Crowberry would just draw too much attention.
Now, our biggest concern was to keep a good enough distance behind Fili's party without losing them, but which also allowed us to remain unnoticed, especially when we were close to Thorin's Gate. Maybe later, perhaps this evening, we would join them, as by then we would be too far away from Thorin's Gate to make us go back. I mentioned my idea to Hilda.
"A sound plan," Hilda said. As we had to keep to the quieter paths to get out of Thorin's Gate, it took longer than I wanted to get on to the trail of Fili's party, but it was easy enough to follow once we had found the path they had taken because of the high degree of disturbed snow.
"Are you skilled with the bow?" Hilda asked as we rode. I had made sure to bring it and my sword with me.
"Aye, though the boar that did this to me would have you believe other wise," I replied. "I hear elves are better."
There must have been something in my voice at the mention of elves. "You don't think much of wood elves?" she asked.
"False friends, they are," I replied. "When the dragon drove my people out of Erebor, they stood by and watched, even when my great grand father and Uncle asked them for help. They left them to wonder homeless in the wilderness."
Hilda's voice betrayed her shock. "I was always under the impression that they are a kind people."
"Cowardly would be a better description. They prefer to hide in their forests while dragons and orcs plunder and destroy the mountain halls of my people. They care little for what happens beyond their own borders, at least, this is what my Uncle tells me."
Hilda remained quiet for a while. I wondered if I might have been too harsh.
"My father didn't believe in weapons. He disliked violence of any kind and preferred to live in peace," Hilda said. "My brothers wanted to learn how to use a sword because they saw the dwarves who traded with us sometimes carried them, but my father forbade it. Perhaps if my father and brothers had been able to defend themselves, they would not have died."
I didn't know what to say to that. Orcs are viscous and their wargs even more so. I doubted that knowing how to wield a sword, axe or bow would have made any difference when the orcs attacked her farm. The numbers would also have overwhelmed them. I decided that it would not have been a good idea to tell her, that, though.
"I would like to learn how to wield a sword and shoot a bow myself," Hilda said.
"I think it could be arranged," I said.
Most of the dwarf women, especially the younger ones, knew how to fight. It had been necessary for them to learn after being exiled from Erebor. However, most of them didn't fight on a regular basis, preferring to leave it to men. This was mainly due to having other tasks to perform. My mother, Vif (before the days of marriage) and Bild were exceptions.