#sorry Bilbo but I had to paint your door blue

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

I love my blue acorn, but I needed a change and look at the fabulous job @mysandwichranaway did!! 😍😍

[gwen-ever]

I am coming home (bibloxcompany/afterlife)

A/N: Just something I had for a long time ready (eng not my first language sorry for mistakes :/)

Summary: Bilbo after a long life goes back home.

Warnings: sad, very sad, major character death, angst, sad fluff at the end.

Song: Coming Home - Skylar Gray

And the blood will dry

Underneath my nails

The years had passed, the hands worn out, the spirit withered.

Bilbo had struggled all his life, struggling against the desire to leave again, to see the Wilds again, to taste the air of the Misty Mountains, to rest under the shadow of the Lonely Mountain.

Dry was the blood on his blade, dry was the blood under his nails, washed away by the inexorable time, which flowed for him at last.

His last journey was never so desired, but his youthful spirit had abandoned him in the gardens of Rivendell. Like a blade beaten too long his spirit had broken, under the trees that withered in the valley. He would have never seen again the white peaks, no longer hear the thrushes or watched the great dwarves' rods that guarded the Mountain's entrance.

His memory left him, his hair got greyed, his skin crumbled and all his memories disappeared, leaving small fragments that seemed to him more and more confused, like all the faces from the people around him and their voices, only faint whispers.

And the wind will rise up

To fill my sails

White sails accompanied him in his last adventure, sails that would take him beyond his conception of the world, in a land of immortal memory and existence. Where everything would be peace and joy, and his withered heart would finish to beat.

The salt on his hands became more and more intangible, the days were always the same, the memories now completely disappeared gave him no more joy, he often wondered where he was, with whom he was and who he was. He was, he is, he will be, it didn't matter anymore.

So you can doubt

And you can hate

And there it was, a warm light, rising from behind white ribs, it illuminated the marked wrinkles on his face, but like a dawn too late it did not illuminate the soul of Bilbo, who in that instant, as the bright horizons approached, collapsed.

Even that time his journey was not over, stuck halfway through again, unable to move between the past and the future. Fate had reserved for him one last mockery, the last disappointment,the last pain, the last loss.

The greyness of the shapes in front of him became darker and darker, the voices more and more feeble, the eyes heavier and heavier, while for the last time he leaned on Frodo's shoulder, tired, tired for the last time.

But I know

No matter what it takes

It was a moment, his eyes snapped open, a whiff of air made him jump slightly backwards, but something blocked him, a fence, a fence he knew well. He looked at his hand on it while it was resting on the wood: it was smooth and spotless, timeless.

He made his gaze fall even lower by lowering his neck, little golden cufflinks adorned the long red sleeves of his jacket, a green vest was wrapped around his chest. He took a breath: it could not be his, he was too old , too worn by time. He wasn’t understanding.

When he looked up, the Bag-end was in front of him, so real that he stood motionless looking at every tile, every stone on the pavement, up to the green roof that lay on it. The evening light illuminated the old round door, which was ajar. From under its doorway came out a warm light, as well as from the two small windows on its side.

Slowly he began to walk too amazed to be able to hold his weight, he climbed the small stone steps trembling slightly. His legs hadn't been this strong for a long time, his eyes distinguished colors and his mind was clear of past horrors and confusion. He approached the doorway stretching his hand towards the door, a faint voice and the sound of footsteps blocked his hand a few inches from it.

Those voices.

A sudden heat permeated his chest.

He reached out his hand towards the door and pushed it slightly, something told him there was no need to knock.

I'm coming home

I'm coming home

Tell the world I'm coming home

Bag-end was as he had left: his armchair by the fire, the documents scattered on the table were in disorder, his maps moved to one side of the table, while his huge book was resting on the desk. But there was something different. Slowly and trembling he approached towards the small corridor, there the voices were louder and louder.

Those voices, those words, those noises.

His eyes began to moisten as he slowly looked out towards the door of his kitchen and let a tear drop at the sight of its interior.

Let the rain

Wash away

All the pain of yesterday

"Mr. Baggins! You are here!"

Kili's head rose smiling from the back of the room, with a smile that would have lit up the whole room if it had been possible. Twelve dwarves were around the table of his dining room, plates scattered along its entire length, full and overflowing beer mugs, stains on the walls and food scattered all over the floor.

"You ruined the surprise, I told you what we had to do, brother!"

Fili grabbed Kili's jacket and pulled him slightly down to his seat.

"Bilbo! You finally made it!" Bofur got up smiling from close to the door and looked out from it, the funny hat was swinging on his head while talking. "We were wondering where you were. I'm only sorry that Bombur snuck into the pantry, there wasn't much left, but Dori managed to prepare something". He nodded inhaling a bit from his brown pipe.

"Something that isn't soup!" Fili shouted in the back of the room laughing and raising his beer mug high to the ceiling.

"And he's also right, do you have any idea how long we've waited?" Grumbled Dwalin sitting by the door with his hands crossed at the chest "We were getting old here!”

"Dwalin don't be rude, Mr. Bilbo must have had his work to do." Dori scolded him, arranging the last dishes meticulously and placing a big pot around the table.

"We-we have kept everything in order! Mr. Bilbo!" Said Ori extending his head beyond Nori who was holding an arm around his shoulders, nodding looking directly to him.

"I, however, Bilbo, borrowed some of your pipe weed, I hope you don't mind".

"Sure, who knows who smoked it all, everyone here is good with other people's things." Glòin grumbles, sitting better on the chest. "Here, if it weren't for m,e you would all still have broken pipes, I invest well in Durins name!” He grumbled but that thing only made Bilbo smile even more and all of sudden he allowed a silent tear to come out, rolling down on his cheek, looking all the dwarves one by one while his hands started to shake.

I know my kingdom awaits

And they've forgiven my mistakes

It wasn't possible, it couldn't be, they were there for real, it wasn't a daydream, they were there. He remained silent while everyone was staring at him, some of them anxious while others with a slight smile on their lips.

"Y-you're here." He whispered and let a sob come out of his chest, causing Balin to worry, who came up from his seat and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright laddie?" He didn't answer, he looked at him and continued to let the salty drops fall on his cheeks. Bilbo nodded quickly and wiped his tears with the back of his sleeve, but they did not stop pressing his eyes insistently.

"Sorry, I-I...I've been busy." He said among the tears, pulling up his nose. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything." He cried as he looked at them in the face again and a sad smile was painted on everyone's face but their gaze changed when their eyes moved to something behind his shoulders.

"You made it in the end master burglar." A deep sudden voice made his heart stop, or made it start again, he could not say for sure. He only knew that when he turned to look behind him, the tears stopped suddenly. There had not been a day when that voice did not echo in his head, when that look did not haunt him, when his blood did not stain his clothes.

Two blue eyes looked at him, kindly, a small smile appeared on the face of the dwarf with long raven hair greyed by time.

"Welcome home Bilbo."

I'm coming home

I'm coming home

Tell the world I'm coming

Home

[lovemesomeerabordwarves]

Mushrooms part 1

I’m reposting part one again so that it works properly since the link for the ‘continue reading’ didn’t work with part two after I re-blogged them when I moved over to a different account. 

After a long walk through the quiet forest, you decided to lay down among the wildflowers.  Your (H/C) hair fans out around you as you stare up into the sky.  Fluffy white clouds drift lazily across the summer blue sky.  You’ve noticed over your many hours of sky gazing that the summer skies always appear bluer than in any other season.    You take a deep breath and close your eyes as the sun warms your face.  

As you open your eyes you notice that the blue sky has turned into a pink and gold sky.  It seems that your brief rest had turned into an afternoon nap.  You hastily get up, brushing grass and a few flower petals off your skirts.  Picking up the basket of mushroom that you gathered along your walk you head for home.  Walking along the lane you see that everyone has already begun to sit down for dinner. Chimney stacks expel smoke as stews are stirred for the final time.  You pass the mayors house and turn left to walk up to your quaint little hole.  It wasn’t much by hobbit standards, but you were happy with it.  Your small garden overlooked the valley and when the sun rose in the mornings it warmed your home nicely as you sat in your armchair drinking tea.  

Unlocking the front door, you step inside and set the basket of mushrooms on the little table just inside the door.  Your remove your shawl and head the kitchen to make your dinner of grilled fish and boiled potatoes.  

After eating you decided to take your tea outside to sit in your garden and listen to the melody of crickets.  Just as you sit down, a dark figure comes walking up the path to your home.  It was strange since your home was the only one up this way.  Just as the figure walks past your mailbox, they come into the light of your lantern. A dark cloak was wrapped around a muscular figure that stood only a few feet taller than yourself.  This clearly wasn’t a hobbit, but it wasn’t a big person either.  The figure looks around as if searching for something.   It appears that they haven’t noticed you yet since their gaze goes right over you.  

After a minute, you decide to try and help them.  

“Excuse me, are you lost?”

The figure jumps in surprise and a hand reflexively goes to the hilt of an axe you hadn’t noticed before.

You stifle a giggle as the figure looks you over and removes his hood revealing hair that is as dark as a ravens wing, streaked with grey.  His eyes were the same color as the summer sky.  His bearing was one of power and command.  He quite literally took your breath away.  Thankfully he wouldn’t be able to see the color rise to your cheeks.

“I am looking for the home of a Mr. Baggins.  Do you know where it is?”

“Umm yes, its not too far. I can show you if you would like.”

“Thank you but I would hate to disturb your night anymore than I already have.”

“You haven’t ruined it, and I wouldn’t mind.  The lanes can be a bit tricky if you’re not from here.  Even Tooks or hobbits that live in Bree have trouble at times.”

You set your tea on the bench and make for the garden gate.  

“Well I thank you. Might I know your name if you are to show me the way?”

“I’m (Y/N).  What might your name be?”

“Thorin Oakenshield, at your service madam.”

You can’t stifle the next giggle.

“You don’t have to call me madam, I’m barley into my thirties.  Just (Y/N) is fine sir.”

The man nods in response.

As you walk along your curiosity gets the better of you.

“If it’s not too much, might I ask a question?”

“You may ask, and I may answer.”

The mans mouth lifts up in a half smile as you giggle again.

“Are you a dwarf? You’re not a hobbit that’s for sure, but I don’t think you’re as tall as one of the Big People.”

“Big People?”

“It’s what Hobbits call those of the race of man.”

“Hmm.  Yes, I am dwarf.  A dwarf of the Blue Mountains.”

 “Oh. That’s to the west isn’t it?”

“Yes it is.”

“What brings you to the Shire then?”

Thorin remained silent. You must have asked a question that was too personal.  The two of you remain silent for the rest of the walk.   As you get closer to Bag End, you can hear a lot of merry and loud voices coming from within.  Was that singing?  Thorin must not have been the only one to seek out the quiet hobbit.  You are still curious but decide to ask Bilbo about it another time.

“Here we are.  The home of Mr. Bilbo Baggins.”

Thorin turns to you and bows.

“Thank you for your assistance (Y/N).  I am in your debt.”

“Your welcome and don’t even worry about it.  I would have felt bad if you had been stuck wondering around all night.”

Thorin bows again and turns to walk up the Biblos house.  As you yourself turn to leave you notice a small glowing scratch on the green door.

‘Bilbo’s not going to be happy about that.  It was just painted a week ago.’

Once you return to your own home you decide it was time for bed.  You had planned to get up early to hunt for more mushrooms.  

The birds chirped and squirrels chittered as they jumped from tree to tree.  The morning mist was starting to dissipate, and you hadn’t much luck with your mushroom hunt yet.  Your search had taken you farther and farther away from your normal path. It was always harder to get mushrooms when the weather got warmer.  After looking under another log and coming up empty you hear a noise.  You look behind the big evergreen tree and down the hill towards the path and see a line on people on ponies and a horse.  At the front you spot the dwarf Thorin.  Before you can move out from behind your tree you hear a shout.  The ponies and horse halt in their tracks as their riders turn around in their saddles. Your lean on a low tree branch to try and see who’s running up.  

“Wait! Wait, I’ve signed it.”  

Bilbos comes up the road laden with a walking stick and a pack, a piece of parchment is being waved around.  He hands the parchment to a white-haired dwarf who nods towards Thorin.

“Everything seems to be in order.  Welcome Master Baggins to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Give him a pony!” Thorin turns his own pony around to continue on their journey.

You lean over the branch more as you hear Bilbo protesting the use of a pony.  He wasn’t fond of riding and he looked awfully funny when he did ride.  The branch snaps as you lean over to get a look at Bilbos face, and you let out a little shriek as you tumble down the hill, mushroom basket flying past you.  You slam into a rock with your left shoulder and feel a snap.  Reaching the bottom of the hill, you let out a groan and try to sit up but are forced back down as searing pain shoots through your arm.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?!”

You can hear the panicked voice of Bilbo coming towards you.  However, someone else is already at your side.  A pair of strong hands stops you from trying to get up again.   Through tears you look up into the rugged face of Thorin Oakenshield.  

“Lie still.  The fall hurt your arm I think.”

Laying your head back down you try to stop the tears from welling up.  

“Oin, come over here, she’s hurt!” Thorin barks over to another dwarf.  

An older dwarf with a hearing horn waddles over to you along with the rest.

“(YN) what are you doing all the way out here?” Bilbo asks as the dwarf known as Oin looks over your arm.

“I was looking for mushrooms. I was about to go home when I heard shouting.  OW!”  Oin had jostled your shoulder a bit.

“Sorry lass, it looks like your shoulder is dislocated.  I’ll have to pop it back into place.”

“Okay.”  Was all you could respond with as you tried not to vomit from the pain.

“Have her bit onto this.” Oin passes a large stick to Thorin who holds it up to you.

You give a concerned look but bit onto it.  As you do Oin places one hand on your back and his other on your shoulder.  Another hand grips yours and you look into blue eyes. You heard a pop, felt a sharp pain, then blacked out.

@jumpingmanatee

[thorinthehottotty]

The Dark - Part 1

Summary: Having landed in Middle Earth, Addie and Silvia find it to be very nice after Bilbo takes them in. Neither have a desire to return to their world until the book begins to get things wrong.

Warnings: There is no gore yet, but there will be violence and a few trigger warnings. For this part, there is only language and minor violence.

A/N: I have rewritten this part so many times. I'm sorry if it's hard to follow. I promised myself this was the last rewrite. As always, let me know what you think, good bad or ugly, I love feedback! Special thanks to @daisy-picking-lady and @fizzyxcustard for letting me bounce ideas off them for this story. I have had this in my drafts since before I started posting on here.

The Shire was a peaceful town, overflowing with flowers and herbs. It was rolling grassy hills and sweet, quiet folk. Very much the place you'd love to retire in. The vegetables and fruit were delectable and Bilbo was adorably polite. Incredibly introverted, yes, but overall, he was kind. A good friend to Addie and myself.

Addie was a gentle soul. Soft spoken and sweet. Her being easy to get along with and eager to please settle right in beside Bilbo's politeness and my own stubborn streak. Together, the three of us spent our first few weeks in summer bliss.

He'd seen us arrive like fallen stars, shooting through the night sky by fire that didn't burn.

Neither of us remember how it happened, what events lead to us appearing in Middle Earth, but it didn't take too long to figure out where we were. We had both seen the movies, though we hadn't read the books.

To be fair, it was on my reading list.

Addie and I both found ourselves reluctant to leave the Shire and return home. Bilbo asked us about it once only for us to share reluctant looks between us both. She wasn't eager to return to her overbearing mother who was growing ever worse. I had no one waiting back home myself. It was a lonely existance.

So it started off not far from what we had remembered. We were blinded by the gentle charm of Bag End casting it's shadow over the rest of the world. A pretty painted picture to hide the black mold growing on the walls. First it was Gandalf.

One late morning as I knelt in the front garden, enjoying the warm moist earth in my hands as I weeded the garden, a man began to wander up the road. I thought nothing of it for a few moments, only the nagging that he was out of place. It was only when I realized that this was the first man I'd seen, rather than hobbit that I snapped my full attention to him. Bilbo continued to puff on his pipe as the man in tattered grey robes and a flopped pointed hat meandered nearby.

Addie stops pouring the tea she'd just made to stare. She turned her worried doe eyes toward me. Slowly, I lean back onto my knees, pulling the gloves from my hand, I stick them in my apron as I rise with a basket, moving toward where the old man stands by the gate, eyeing Addie in a way I definitely didn't like.

"Good morning," the man greeted with crooked teeth, yellowed from age and too much tea. His grey hair hung in dreadlocks around his face, his beard similarly tangled.

"Ah, good morning to you as well," Bilbo chirps politely, lifting a brow at my chilling expression. Suddenly, these clothes feel all too translucent with this man gazing me over. A traditional hobbit style, skirts past the knee, tight bodices and sleeves that rolled up to my elbow. I didn't normally wear delicate skirts, but the cotton was comfortable and I quite like the blue patterns.

Only now, the low neckline made me feel dirty as this man gave an appreciative eye over it. My hand tightened on a spade as I refrain from driving it into his chest.

"It's a fine morning, Bilbo Baggins. I'm afraid I do not know your companions."

"Oh, tell me that's not..." I groan, unable to finish my sentence to turn and gape at Addie who looked just as shellshocked.

"Gandalf the Grey?" She finishes.

"Is it my reputation, or has Bilbo spoken of me?" He asks, looking much to proud of himself. Addie and I exchange glances and shrugs a bit at me.

"Color me less than impressed," I reply, and Addie finishes pouring more tea. Bilbo looks startled by my callous and rude behavior. "The tales we've head of you are very different than what I see before me." The wizard raises his eyebrows at me.

"Silvia," Bilbo gapes, his pipe weed burning forgotten in his pipe as he nearly drops it. "Sir, you must forgive my guest, she must be in a foul mood today."

"Less foul if he stopped undressing me with his eyes," I snarl. The wizard looks more amused than insulted by me.

"Feisty she is. Where might you be from, my dear," he asks. I pause for a moment, debating telling him. Finally, I decided it wouldn't hurt.

"Not Middle Earth." He nods, not looking too surprised.

"So the rumors of twin comets touching down in the Shire are true. I assume the other beauty happens to be from your world as well?"

"Yes, sir," she replies softly. His smile turns dark at her meek reply and I step closer to him, my lip curling into a sneer. He lifts an eyebrow at me.

"Bilbo, you have two charming guests," he replies. "Perhaps they should come along on our adventure."

"Adventure!?" Bilbo balks in terror. "Oh, no, no, no. Certainly not." His shrieked response relaxes me.

"You are the son of Belladona Took, are you not?"

"There will be no adventures here. You have come to the wrong hobbit!" Gandalf lifts an eyebrow in surprise.

"You are exactly the gnome I had in mind for this event. It will be a perfect fit." Bilbo's eyes darken and he stands from his bench. Those usually light green eyes turn to a dark forest as he begins to put out his pipe.

"The correct nomenclature happens to be 'Hobbit'," he rumbles out with a curl of his lip.

Bilbo normally looked soft and cute with his brassy curls and button nose. I had seen his teeth before when he spoke. Blunt white ones that were charming and a bit crooked. Cute. I was not expecting sharp needles of pearly white to sink from his gums as he bared them. When Gandalf saw our startled expressions, he smiled and drew back a sleeve, exposing the obvious scar of a bite. "Venomous as well," he had grinned mischievously.

I actually gulped at the frightening sight, hair rising on my arms. "Then perhaps you shouldn't call him that," I respond. Bilbo twisted toward me, giving me a glance that I couldn't quite read but felt a bit appreciative.

"Perhaps he should save those teeth for another day, the boggart. You haven't even heard the adventure."

"No adventures!" Bilbo shouts and turns to stamp into the house with Addie. I wait a moment, watching them disappear before turning back to the glowering wizard.

"If you bring your dwarves here," I begin in a quiet warning. "They will be polite, do you understand?" I knew of the adventure he wanted. How could I not. Bilbo was needed on the quest and I knew he would be fine.

Gandalf arches a brow at me, surprised. "And how is it you know of my dwarves?"

"Do you understand?" I demand. "I will not have them being rude to Bilbo." Gandalf smirks and nods at me slowly. With that being said, I moved into the house where Bilbo locks the door behind him.

"The dwarves are coming, aren't they," Addie asks. Bilbo frowns deeply and glances up to see my answer, his teeth had returned to normal and he looked more frightened than angry.

"Bilbo, I believe it is time we spoke of what we know of this world." And to his armchair we went.

And then the dwarrow began to arrive. I don't know what I expected, but this was certainly not it. I expected short men to crowd merrily in the dining nook. This was not the reality I discovered as dwarf after dwarf entered. Most close to my height of five feet, eight inches, but a few of them towering above at nearly six feet. From afar you might think they were short, simply because they were wide.

They were all broad-shouldered with hard muscles. Tattooed and pierced. Each and everyone of them had more piercings than us. All of the older dwarrow had their septums pierced and it made me wonder what had inspired that. I could see a big dwarf with a mohawk had even his nipples pierced, you could see them through his tight, embroidered tunic.

I saw the way one of the young ones eyed Addie. His icy gaze followed her everywhere. She had certainly captured his attention. It made her nervous, I think. She never met his gaze, keeping it cast down at all times. She stuck close to me under his intense staring. His braided mustache twitched up on one side when I met his gaze, just as coolly.

Fíli, if I remember correctly. The crowned prince. He had a long nose and the fairest hair of any of them. It was braided down his back decoratively, like ropes of white gold. He had sharper eyes than I had imagined. Almost white-blue and incredibly eerie to stare into. It contrasted starkly against his warm toned skin.

He leans back on the bench, tattooed arms stretching out bare. Most of them showed off their muscles and tattoos with their sleeveless tunics it seemed.

Bilbo was frazzled the entire time as he was ignored and jostled about. I felt terribly and when his teeth came out, I stepped right out of the way. "Such a bugbear," I grumble under my breath.

When there was a knock at the door, and the house stills. Bilbo's still too busy chasing a fat dwarf for tomatoes to answer the door. I knew who stood on the otherside and try to imagine what he would look like. It's closer than I expect.

When I open the door, I'm greeted by a fierce looking warrior. His septum twitches in annoyance when I stare at him. White blue eyes rip me apart, a gorgeously masculine face stares me down and he steps up. Challenging me to turn him away. "Is this Bag End?" He demands, not amused by my curious examination of the king under the mountain. Truly a mountain himself, only marred by the thick scar dragged jaw to temple.

"Yes, it is," I hum, curiously glancing over the tanned skin they all had and the dark hair tickled with silver that draped over him like his cloak. The wind blew in from behind him, casting me with his earthy, salty scent and I suppress my shiver of delight.

When he tries to step pass me, I step with him. "May I come in?" He spits through clenched teeth. I tilt my chin up and then glance to the little hobbit who's needle teeth are sinking away.

"Oh, what's another. They've destroyed my pantry as is." The hobbit crosses his arm, looking a little too childlike for me to take him too seriously.

"Alright," I hum back to the king, trying not to squirm under his great glare. I step back, opening the door widely for him. He wanders in, sneering at me.

"Gandalf, I thought you said this place would be easy to find?" He snarls in a deep baritone as the dwarrow prepare a spot for him.

The old man, who was much shorter and more portly than expected, lifted a challenging eyebrow. "I was quite clear in my instruction, Thorin."

"I lost my way. Twice."

"Hardly my fault. Everyone else seemed to find it just fine." Gandalf leans my way, a dirty grin on his face. "Be a dear and get me some ale please." When he tries to swat my rear I snatch his wrist away. I lean down into his face, teeth barring.

"Try to touch me again, I'll carve off your fingers one at a time." The dwarrow begin to chuckle around the table. I throw his arm away from me and move from the room.

"Are you still grabbing that ale for me?"

I didn't dignify him with an answer, just gestured to the skiddish Addie. She darts with me into the living room. Happy to get out under the heavy stares.

"What are two human maids doing in the company of a hobbit?" The dwarf king demands as I coax my friend into Bilbo's favorite arm chair.

"Bilbo, do you want tea?" I call. "I'm going to make some."

"Chamomile, please," he replies as I move into the kitchen. I listen to Bilbo tell the story of us falling from the heavens. Of the white fire that brought us here from our world and explained how he took us in, proud to find us civil. (He began to babble nervously about how I was really very sweet, I just had a temper. I think Thorin was glaring him down with skepticism.)

When tea was done, I brought a cup out for our host wordlessly. And then it began. The talk of dragons and mountains and Erebor. I was there to scoop Bilbo up when he fainted. Something about meat hooks and burning to ash in dragonfire.

"Grab the cards," I hum. And while sipping our tea, we played silently, aware of the guests slowly trickling into the room like a leaky faucet. Fíli and Kíli were the first to arrive, looking like a pair of foxes leaning by the fire place.

Addie casts me a worried glance and I sigh, turning to glare at the smirking pair. "Can we help you?"

"Fallen stars, ey?" Fíli hums, eyeing Addie's submissive staring at me.

"Bilbo likes his stories," with that, I return, playing another card. Addie reaches forward and snatches them both as the both of them approach now, curious.

"What's this game?" Kíli with his big brown eyes and messy hair chirps, settling on the coffee table.

"It's called, 'war'. You both play a card, whoever has the higher card wins the round. You play until one person has the deck." I murmur and play the next card on the top of the stack.

"The hobbit mentioned something about you knowing dwarves were coming to Bag End. How did you know?" Addie passes me a look and jerks when Fíli brushes her hair back from her flushing cheeks.

"Please, don't touch me," she murmurs. He gives an amused smile.

"Why? Because I'm a dwarf?" He challenges.

"No, Prince Asshole. Because you're a stranger that been watching her all night! You keep those hands to yourself." I match his glare.

"How did you know I was a prince?" He demands. The commotion has the rest of the company peeking into the room curiously. Thorin in front of most of them

"You're a story where we are from. Only..." I glance over them, "not quite how it was written it would seem."

Thorin approaches, very eager to learn more of this. "What kind of story?"

"An adventure. With Bilbo as the main character." This has them all staring at us. "He decides to go with you lot on your trip to reclaim the lost city of Erebor, steal the arkenstone, kill a dragon and then return home." I answer bluntly.

"Does Bilbo kill the dragon?" Addie mutters.

"No, its the pirate looking guy, remember?" I reply, then frown. "Or maybe it's Orlando Bloom..."

"No, no, I think it's the pirate guy."

"You know of our quest? You have information about how it will go?"

Suddenly, I'm not liking the way those white-blue eyes bore into us. "I guess."

"Then you will join us with the hobbit."

"Someone has to stay to watch over Bag End," I try to argue, my gut sinking at the darkening of his eyes. Tell him 'no' was exactly the wrong answers.

"That wasn't a request, woman." He moved toward me with slow steps, oddly quiet. In the stillness of the room, however, the creaking floor alerted me with how wrong this all felt. Why did so many of them look amused? "I will give you one more opportunity to join us before you regret your circumstances."

"Please, are you trying to make your journey harder?" I scoff, attempting to call his bluff. A humorless smile stretches across his face, looking more like a grimace.

"You leave me no choice then."

My gasp is cut off when he snatches me up by my throat. My oxygen already being cut off, I feel the pressure building in my face.

I don't miss the startled cry Addie gives as she reaches for me. I'm drawn so close to Thorin I can smell his dinner and ale on his breath, ever so faint. "You will both serve under me as slaves until I release you." I press up onto my toes as I claw at his arms. "You are less than the dirt we walk on. You will do as you are told or there will be repercussions. Understood?"

Gritting my teeth, I thump my hand as hard as I can into his nose. He grunts, but there is no noise beyond that, not break like I was expecting. Fuck. Maybe they were made of actual stone. 

Thorin releases my neck with a shove and I cough as I tumble back onto the couch. The cards fly and Addie looks terrified, sinking back into the couch. "And what makes you think that you can?" I demand through my coughs.

"We can always burn down this house as an example." His eyes were cold and empty. "This is your last chance. Are we burning the house?" 

Clenching my jaw, I meet his eyes and shake my head.

If he burned down the house we'd have no where to stay, even if he wasn't claiming us as slaves. I reach for my throat, dragging my fingers over the tender flesh. It's only now that I think I should have lied and said we were already serving under Bilbo.

Thorin doesn't say anything after that, only glares away toward the fire. Addie snatches up my hand, not bothering with the cards left abused and abandoned. In a way completely unlike her, she spits a foreign curse at Thorin and drags me away toward our bedroom.

....

Taglist: @tomisbaeholland @fizzyxcustard @daisy-picking-lady @queenofmankind @dumbassunderthemountain

[fiction-drabbles]

Spitfire Teaser

A/N: In honor of the lovely @illiniana spamming me with likes (thank you, you’re amazing) I decided to post the first 1,000 or so words of the new take I have on the Spitfire story I was working on.

Chapter 1

In a hole in the ground, there lives a hobbit. He is a well-to-do hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins. However, there is a second hobbit that rarely spends time in their little hole in the ground, whom many hobbits shy away from. Her name is Katriana Baggins, or simply Kat to those who she cares for. As with most hobbits, she stands at a meager three feet four inches tall and has your typical hobbit feet (leathery soles and warm reddish-brown hair on top), though her feet are slightly smaller than most would deem “normal.” Shiny, large, loose red curls sit atop her head typically in a messy ponytail, while her emerald green eyes are always ensuring she is aware of her surroundings, and despite spending so much time outdoors, her skin still has an ivory glow about it. Her brother always says that she looks like a porcelain doll in many ways, but that her attitude couldn’t be farther from the prim and proper toys.

Kat had always been a bit odd to those in the town of The Shire. While most inhabitants are content with the monotonous life of farming and cooking and tending to their gardens, Kat craves adventure. She and many others blame it on her Took ancestry, but for one reason or another she has always loved running around the fields with the boys, play-fighting, climbing trees, and even learning how to use weapons. Of course, no self-respecting hobbit would wield a weapon, so she was forced to travel to the nearby city of Bree to learn from a human who lives there, leading her to rarely be at their family home of Bag End.

Her mentor is a kind man who allows her to stay with him so long as she helps him tend to the horses, cook their meals, and keep the house tidy. It’s a small price to pay for the things that he has taught her. He had been injured in battle by an orc, leaving him unable to do as much as he needed to, so she does whatever he can’t do to repay him. He may be a bit gruff, but she knows he cares about her in an almost grandfatherly way.

Which is why, in the morning after her weapons lesson, Kat walks toward the barn where her mentor is surely feeding extra apples to his horse Sol and her Welsh Cob Fiachra. He has such a bad habit of doing that.

“Ciarán, do you mind if I take Fiachra and visit Bilbo,” she calls as she enters.

At the sound of her voice, he quickly hides his hand behind his back, likely hiding the apple he was going to feed to Sol. He may be older, but he looks at Kat like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. 

“Of course, she’s yours after all. Send a letter if you’re going to stay for more than a day or two please. You have your sword? Your bow? Your cloak? You know I worry,” he instructs.

Mounting her horse, she nods at him fondly as she leads Fiachra out of the stables. Calling out a final goodbye, Kat sets a pace toward The Shire. Her favorite part about the trip from Bree to the Shire is the scenery. She’ll never get tired of seeing the trees, flowers, fields and hills as she travels. As usual when traveling, the day passes quickly and night is falling as she draws near Bag End. She should get to Bilbo by supper time, if not a bit earlier.

“Excuse me, sir,” calls a deep voice.

Kat turns out of curiosity and finds an unfamiliar dwarf walking toward her. He has long dark hair with a little silver in it, a long beard, stands decently tall for a dwarf, and carries himself almost regally. With a start, Kat realizes he had been talking to her.

“I’m sorry,” she asks, bringing Fiachra to a halt.

“My apologies. I thought you were a male,” he says as he bows to her.

Unmounting Fiachra, Kat realizes she now has to look up at the man. Upon closer inspection, her emerald eyes meet cobalt blue and her curiosity grows. What business could he possibly have in the Shire?

“No need to apologize. It’s dark and I was wearing my cloak. Anyone could have made the same mistake. Do you need help with anything,” she asks, returning his bow.

“I do. I seem to have gotten myself turned around a bit. I’m looking for a home on a hill and it should have a mark on the door to identify it,” he explains.

Furrowing her brows, she thinks of all the homes that may fit that description. The first one she can think of is Bag End, but she knows Bilbo wouldn’t know a dwarf and he certainly wouldn’t allow a mark on his door. He had just made her paint that door after all.

“I can help you, but do you mind if I drop Fiachra off at my brother’s? She’s surely tired after the journey,” she offers.

The dwarf nods and they make their way toward Bag End. It’s quiet and awkward for a few moments, as the dwarf seems to not like socializing and Kat has never been the best at talking to others. Eventually, she clears her throat a bit and looks toward her mysterious companion.

“I never did get your name. I’m Katriana Baggins,” she says.

“Thorin Oakenshield, at your service miss,” he responds.

She wrinkles her nose with a chuckle at the word “miss” and shakes her head lightly.

“Please, just call me Kat. I’m no miss,” she states.

As they draw nearer to Bag End, Fiachra begins to get restless. She doesn’t seem to enjoy the slow pace of her shorter companions.

“Fiachra, yupqu xefn. Fo'pp zo uh zipze'j jeen.,” Kat orders. (Fiachra, calm down. We’ll be at Bilbo’s soon.)

Thorin looks at her curiously but, before he can say anything, Fiachra gently rams her head into Kat’s shoulder, causing her to fall to the ground. Fiachra winnies as though she were proud of herself while Kat glares up at her from the ground. Thorin seems at a loss and can’t seem to determine which of them to look at, the angry hobbit or the unruly horse.

[kingofdirtandnothing]

@polyfacetious big ass Christmas Drabble Extravagaza: Day Six

Alexander was the best kind of regular. He was the curious kind. He would come to the shop, squint up at the chalkboard with those lovely blue eyes, and then finally choose the next thing on the list. If he was trying to be subtle about slowly working his way down the menu, then he needed some work. It was sweet, it was just not subtle.

But today, he’d come in and sat himself up at one of the tables near the window, an impressive scowl painted across that pretty face. (Alexander had some remarkably expressive eyebrows. You could read his mood with them alone.)

Which meant Magnus was spending his morning rush worrying about what exactly had set his favorite customer on such a sour path this morning. He spares a glance over while he steams milk for a matcha latte, and finds Alec staring daggers out of the shop’s front window. But there was no one out there. And Magnus was reasonably certain that Alexander wasn’t angry with Diego’s taco stand. 

What could make such a sweet natured man so sour? It wasn’t girlfriend trouble, Magnus knew that much, thanks to one memorable morning where a young lady gave Alexander her number and when she walked away, he looked at it like she’d handed him a raw mackerel. Boyfriend troubles, maybe?

Magnus hoped not, for his own selfish reasons. He could practically feel Bilbo’s eyes on him from across the shop. Yes yes, he knew he had to get on his side of the promise. No, he wasn’t going to do it right now, in broad daylight in an open tea shop, Bilbo Baggins. Stop judging. 

With the last customer of this burst gone away with their tea and their scones and their lovely pastries, Magnus slips out from behind the counter before his good sense could get the better of him. “Lovely day, isn’t it?” That felt like a good enough segue into conversation, given the fact that Alexander was currently glaring at a cloud. 

But much like the clouds would break this afternoon and the sun would shine through, that sour expression on Alexander’s face breaks apart and reveals the sunshine of his lovely smile beneath. A sheepish, nervous smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Uh..yeah. It is.”

That’s all the opening that Magnus needed. He slips into the seat across from Alec at the small bistro table, hands clasped in front of him. His nails were a gorgeous sea green, in keeping with the summer season. There was even a sheen of glitter built into the polish itself. Magnus was positively in love with the color. “How have you been?” Magnus has to resist the urge to jump straight to ‘what’s wrong?’ People didn’t like being called out like that.

“Oh, good. I’m good.” Alexander was a squirmer, when he was nervous. Magnus knew because he never saw Alec move around in his seat like a worm on a hook until Magnus was sitting across from him. It was flatteringly adorable. “You?”

“I’m wonderful, thank you.” And if he didn’t get them out of this cesspool of polite conversation, they might never get to the meat of the problem. Magnus only had so long until his next batch of regulars came in. A quick glance at the clocked showed him it was a little before 8:30. He had about twenty minutes for this conversation, tops. 

What a world to live in, when reckless and carefree Magnus Bane cared enough about a man’s opinion to schedule in time to talk him through his feelings between customers. Bilbo was probably cackling into his dough right as they spoke. The bastard. 

“So why don’t you tell me why you’ve been sitting here, looking like the most handsome thundercloud I’ve ever laid eyes on?” So maybe that was laying it on a bit thick. But Alexander was a sight for sore eyes on any day, effortlessly gorgeous. It was enough to take someone like Magnus, who spent half an hour in front of the mirror every morning, feel jealous. 

Then again, getting to lay eyes on that effortlessly handsome face every day was enough to push the jealousy back and replace it with a four letter word. 

Lust. The word was lust. Not the other “L” word, which Magnus was going to avoid the damned plague. 

Alexander stutters for a moment, blue eyes huge and wide before he gives up, laughing at himself as he turns his eyes back to the window. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m not trying to bring the mood down or anything.” Alec’s accent was all New York, and before him, Magnus would have never thought that was something he would find attractive. 

An English accent was lovely. An Irish accent was enough to make a man weak in the knees. Magnus himself had a personal weakness when it came to French accents. But in the grand scheme of American accents, New York wouldn’t be anywhere near the top of the list. Or at least, it wouldn’t have been before Alexander. 

There was something about the way he spoke, the same kind of effortless charm that went with his finger combed hair and his (truly hideous, it was a marvel) worn out sweaters. Magnus has always loved a sharp dressed man. But there was something so incredibly genuine about Alec Lightwood that it had made its way under his skin, and he couldn’t get free. 

“You don’t bring the mood down.” Far from it. Seeing Alexander was often the highlight of Magnus’ day. “So go ahead and tell me what’s on your mind.” Magnus cups his chin in his palm, watching Alec through the fan of his lashes. He was never going to tire of the way Alec’s eyes darted down to his lips when Magnus spoke. It was the kind of thing that could make a man’s ego get too big. 

Not Magnus, of course. He was the very picture of...there was no reason to even finish that ridiculous sentence. Magnus was fantastic, and he quite appreciated it when other people thought he was fantastic as well. 

“It’s just that my sister is getting married.” There was that scowl again, dipping across dark brows before it disappears. “And I’m happy for her, really. But she’s having this whole big party about it, and there’s dancing.” Alexander says dancing the way someone else might say bamboo spikes under fingernails. Like it was torture. 

“And you have to dance?” Alexander nods, like a man on his way to the gallows. “So what’s the issue here? Do you not have someone you want to dance with?” Is it cruel to hope that Alec doesn’t have a date he wants to dance with? “Or is it that you don’t know how to dance?”

Alec’s little smile tugs up further on one side of his mouth than the other. Gods, he was a sight. “Both, honestly.”

Both. Which means that Magnus had not one, but two chances to whirl his way into Alexander’s life outside of this little table and the shop around it. This was a chance to see Alexander out in the world, to be a part of his life and not just set dressing. 

“I could teach you.” That absolutely came out too quickly. But this was a blue moon of an opportunity. It would only come around once. So Magnus had to take advantage while he still could. “I used to teach dance. I lived in Spain for a year or two.” Magnus had lived all over in his time. It would honestly be faster just to tell him the places that he hadn’t lived, rather than go through his spiel of all the places he’s called home over the years. 

“Salsa. Flamenco. Even a little ballroom dancing and waltz, which I’d imagine is what your sister is going to want for her party.”

Alec was watching him with wonder on his pretty face. Magnus has to resist the urge to preen. That wouldn’t go well with the whole humble teacher act he was going for here. “How much do you charge by the hour?”

Now that would be a lovely innuendo and segue if this was Magnus looking to climb Alexander like the lovely willow tree he was. But Magnus had to admit to himself, and only to himself, that his feelings were involved in this mess. He didn’t (just) want to give Alec the night of his life. He wanted to stick around for breakfast in the morning too. 

“No charge.” Magnus waves away the protest he can see building on Alec’s lips. He wasn’t the type of man who enjoyed handouts. There was a pride to him, beneath all that rakish charm. “I haven’t taught in ages. I wouldn’t be up to par for being paid anyway. But I can dust the rust off and you can learn enough to cut a rug and make yourself the envy of your sister’s wedding.”

Alec makes a sour face, and Magnus can’t help but laugh. “Fine. I can dust the rust off and you can be a perfectly passable dancer and not draw any undue attention to yourself at your sister’s wedding. How’s that sound?”

Alexander’s shoulders soften and droop down, and the smile he gives Magnus is equal parts relief and something more playful. If Magnus wasn’t already aware how much trouble he was in, then he would have figured it out right at this instant. Because he was in Trouble with a Capital T. “That sounds great, Magnus. Thanks.”

There were people milling outside of the door that the tea shop shared with Bag End Bakery. Two women with big cat’s eyes sunglasses were checking their phones, and their watches, respectively. They were waiting for someone. Which meant in the next few minutes, they’d be coming inside to order, and it would be back to work.

Magnus looks back over at the clock. 8:50. How did time manage to fly by so fast when he was talking to Alec? It was like magic. 

But all good things must come to an end. “How about you can come by here after close. We can move the tables out of the way, and we have a nice wood floor to practice on.” Magnus plucks the napkin out from under Alec’s cup, pulling the pen from behind his ear so he could start to scribble down his phone number.

“For now, wear something comfortable tonight. Something you can move in. Basketball shorts and a t-shirt or a tanktop are what I usually practice in. And wear the most comfortable pair of tennis shoes that you have. We’ll lay the ground work before we get you practicing in the shoes you’ll be wearing at the wedding.”

Magnus writes his name beneath the number with a flourish, and in a moment of pique, he draws a heart on a balloon string next to his name. He even draws the little square in the corner of the heart balloon, like it’s catching the glint of the summer sun on it’s plastic surface. If his intentions weren’t clear before, this would make them neon bright. Hopefully. 

“Here.” He slides the paper napkin back over to Alec, looking over his shoulder as the women spill into the shop, chattering among themselves like a gaggle of sparrows sitting on a wire. They would be ordering from Bilbo and then they would make their way over to his side of the shop. Time was up. 

“Tonight. 8pm. I’ll be here.” 

Feeling especially bold, Magnus reaches over once he stands and pats Alec’s hand. His skin was warm, and soft. Lovely. Every bit of that man was lovely, and Magnus was in so very deep over his head. 

“You be here too.” That’s a playful little waggle of his finger in front of Alec’s nose before Magnus darts back behind the counter, calling out to the women that had broken away from their group at the pastry case to head his way. 

[thepartingglassofthorin]

Of Beginnings

When Thorin awoke in the morning, a kink in his neck was present, along with the feeling of guilt and dread. He was back among the living, and he remembered every moment of the journey; from insulting Bilbo at Bag End to asking for his pardon as he lay dying on the River Running. Those memories had haunted him in his dream state, causing him to gain little sleep.

He peeled himself off the straw mattress, finding sunlight was flooding through the barred window behind the Guard's desk. The Guard himself was leaned back in his chair, his book on his chest as he dozed lightly. The Dwarf King could hear the bustle of life outside of the prison, a pleasant smell wafted in from the vendors, causing his stomach to howl loudly.  Thorin attempted to smooth his hair down while stifling a yawn, trying to ignore the worsening pains in his stomach.

The Guard continued to doze, a gentle snore coming from his round face, growing louder as the day past from early morning to early afternoon. By the time he had awoken, the morning vendors had sold their wares and goods, packed up and the afternoon vendors had all set up for their shift.

The door flung open, a brisk cold air nearly put out the embers in the fireplace as the guard from the night before stood in the doorway, his cloak held in the crook of his arm, the bright smile on his face grew as he waltzed up to the desk. 

The Hobbit guard sat upright at the first instance of noise, drawing a knife from under the desk in his alarmed state, placing it back as his friend strode up. 

"Guess who's gotten lucky, Tookie," He said with a smirk. The Hobbit glared at him as he rubbed his head, pulling himself to sit upright in his chair.

When he didn't respond, he continued, "I can see it now, eleven kids, just outside of Bree, in a little quaint cottage-"

"Do you have any clue what time it is," The Hobbit yawned, stretching his good arm up over his head.

"Oh, sorry. I was out celebrating with her Brothers most of the night, and-"

"You can tell me later," He interrupted, rapping on the desk. "You about you take this dwarf home, and then you can tell me about it tomorrow after I've slept in my own bed!"

The Prancing Pony stood with a gloomy look. The paint was peeling, and the roof whistled with small holes in the thatch, while the sign creaked slowly as it swayed in the wind. 

The Guard, who's name was Stephen, held the door open for Thorin as they entered the dusty Inn, his joyful attitude only worsened Thorin's foul one. 

The Inn was busy with staff as they prepared for the night rush of customers, Thorin almost ran into a waitress carrying a bus of mugs back into the kitchen as he entered, Stephen said a cheerful hello as she disappeared behind the door. 

"Isn't it a little early for Drinks Stephen," A tender asked as he leaned over the counter. "You haven't even asked her yet," He added as Stephen laughed.

"No, it's never too early for drinks," He chuckled, leaning on the counter with his back to the tender. "But I can't right now, perhaps after my shift." 

The Tender leaned upright almost immediately. "Oh? Who've you brought back today? Fredrik again?" He leaned further over the counter to look at Thorin. "That boy is gonna find himself-" His brows creased as he saw Thorin, a frown becoming more defined the longer the two stared at each other. 

"Your things are out back, sir," He said gruffly, with a jerk of his thumb towards his left. "Payment is two gold." 

With a stifled growl, Thorin gave his payment and went to gather his things. As he walked out the door, he could hear the two men return to their merrymaking. He quickly grabbed his things, wiping the muck from his sacks before he set them on his back. 

He was late, by almost two days. He had walked before, but this time was different. He couldn’t mess up, he refused to let this quest fail as the one before had. He couldn't shake the dread that laid in the pit of his stomach, try as he might. He didn’t understand any of it. The way Auel had tricked him, and then shoved him through the doorway without giving him a moment to think about his already hastily made decision. 

Why wasn’t he able to know he was in the Halls of Waiting, why was it so dark and dreary? 

The more his thoughts lingered on those unanswered questions, the more his stomach squirmed. Something wasn’t right with all this, and he had to figure out what!

The night was cold, colder then it should be mid April, but it was ok. Thorn knew some spring nights were temperamental.

But this was too cold. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at his toes. His bare toes. 

The King leapt to his feet, he had been resting against a tree. Cold snow crunched under foot, he yelped in surprise and went to sit back down, only to lean all the way back, the tree having never been there. 

Now thoroughly covered in snow, the Cold King’s mind scrambled for an explanation. He had only intended to sit and rest against the old oak on his way, the very same tree he had slept underneath on his last trip. 

Snow crunched not so far away, Thorin pulled himself out of the snow and started to brush off his clothes, only to realize he wasn’t wearing what he had been. Of course he hadn’t, otherwise his boots would still adorn his feet! His fur lined vest and blue tunic were replaced with a white tunic, tucked into white trousers of the same fabric. Despite their thinness, Thorin realized he wasn’t as cold, or as wet, as he should have been. 

He also realized that he didn’t have any sort of weapon on him. 

“Come this way!”

The King whirled around, looking for the source of the feminine voice, the crunching snow coming closer and closer. 

“Where are you,” he hissed. The collar of his shirt was yanked from behind in response. He landed in a deep snow bank, tumbling backwards through the snow as he slid down the hill. He came to a stop finally and laid in the snow for a moment. As far as he could tell the crunching was a well ways off now, but for all he could see, they could have watched him tumble down the hill and be laughing at him. Snow rose above his body by about a foot and a half. 

The crunching came back, this time much closer, Thorin peeled himself out of the snow and sat up, peering out towards the crunching. 

A young dwarrowdam made her way through the snow towards Thorin, her white gown hung loosely and seemed to shimmer against the moonlight. Her golden coils hung loose as well, and she smiled brightly at him, offering a small hand once she reached the snow covered king. Her bright blue eyes showed genuine joy, and reminded Thorin of someone, although he couldn’t place the name.

”It’s a pleasure to finally see you again,” she said, her voice was quiet, as if she didn’t want to break the stillness of the night. 

Thorin took her hand and stood, trying to recall whom this was. It felt like a deep buried memory, but he couldn’t remember. 

“We haven’t much time,” she hurried, pulling him towards a small farmhouse across the snowy field, her stature hid her strength well as Thorin almost fell into the snow again, not having a chance to reply or pull his hand from her grip.

He looked back at the snow bank he had fallen down and saw no trace of his fumble, or any sort of disturbance. "What sort of trickery is this," He mumbled to himself. 

"It is no trickery, Thorin." She pulled him behind a hay cart and watched as three approached the door, they seemed to shimmer in the night with their silver cloaks. There was no light that they needed, for warmth or guidance. "This event will change your life, and it is important you understand it."

Thorin turned to her, a scowl across his face. "Who are you? You seem well acquainted with me, and yet I don't even know your name!"

"Shhhee!"

The tallest of the three stepped onto the porch and knocked on the door, he stooped under the roof and if the Master of the Farm let him inside, he would have to bend over to enter the humble home. All three lowered their hoods as they awaited the Master of the Farm, they shone with eerie brilliance, certainly not of Arda. 

The darkness within the house vanished as a lantern was lit, it made its way down from the top floor as the tall one knocked again. A groggy voice responded, nothing really coherent.

Soon enough, the lantern was set by the window and the few latches were undone. The door opened to reveal a tall man, hardly past his twenties. He had red hair and freckles across his face, with bright green eyes. He wore a well loved robe, but that was it. He was built like a barrel, but wasn't flabby, what little bit of him Thorin could see was all muscle.

He held the lantern out at them, his face slowly turning sour the longer they stood in silence.

"Well? What reason have you to wake my wife and I up at this awful hour?"

"We seek shelter for the moment," The one on the porch said. "We are brothers, and ask your permission to warm our hands before we continue on our way."

The man eyes the bundle in the shortest' arms suspiciously, moving the lantern towards it. "And what of that? A sack of rutabagas perhaps?"

The one holding the bundle laughed, Thorin recognized it instantly and looked at his companion, worry etched on his face.

She looked back, slyly with a smirk pulling up one corner of her mouth.

”Nay, but she might look like one,” Auel said gently, stepping forward and showing the bundle to the man.

He hissed like someone had laid a hot fire poker across his backside, quickly setting the lantern down and taking the bundle from Auel.

”Are you insane,” He seethed, thumping came down the stairs as someone else joined the throng. Auel and his company moved inside, the shorter staying by the door and looking out at Thorin, the same sly smirk came over his shadowy face before he turned to make a comment to someone.

Thorin’s lady friend grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the slightly open door, lights began to shine within the house as more lanterns were lit. A quiet infantile cry came from the home as well, Thorin hoped that the man hadn’t any children whom had been woken up.

Thorin pulled his hand from hers, she stopped and beckoned him on, he frowned and cross his arms.

”What is the meaning of all this,” He asked, gesturing at the farm around him. She stood straight and strode over to him, not meeting his eyes. “Am I dead or not?” She took his hands in hers and looked at their calloused palms, her small fingers tracing the scars and lines on his hands.  “I recall this farm from my younger days, but what purpose does it have in saving Fili and Kili?”

She finally met his eyes, sorrow filled his soul as she stared at him. 

“Trust is not in your nature,” she spoke softly. The homestead seemed to shift and change as she spoke. Thorin felt as if he couldn’t keep his balance, like he was on a tightrope being shook from both ends. The land surrounding him flickered, a celebration appeared, love and warmth entered his heart. Before he could come to know what it was, the scene changed again, the farmhouse, barn, and hay shed all erupted in flames, screams, fear, terror, the roof of the home collapsed as a specific scream pierced the burning sky.

“But please,” She held his fingers tightly, bringing the scene back to the silent snowy field. “You must trust me and Auel with this. It will not be easy, or comfortable, but we both will be there, every step of the way.”

She looked up at him, her face as blank as a stone. 

With a ragged sigh, Thorin squeezed back, falling into step beside her as they turned to watch the scene unfolding within the home. 

The Three Figures stood at the door, their mission complete, and the new parents wished them well. They had wanted a child for so long, and although they hadn’t expected their joy to be fulfilled in this way, they wouldn’t have it any other way now.

The Three turned and stepped off the porch, headed right towards the two dwarves it seemed. The man shouted out at them.

”Is there a name for our little rutabaga?” 

Auel stopped dead in his tracks. The brighter of the two had been a little further ahead of his companions, however he halted, turning back to give the Ancient Smith a warning glance. 

With a hearty chuckle, Auel turned around as his hood fell off his crown, a bright smile replacing the saddened one he had hid beneath his hood.

”Her name is Armis SparrowSong! Tell her all thou knowest when she comes to find her heart!”

The scene shifted again, only the Lady’s steady hand on Thorin’s arm kept him upright.

"It's time to wake up, Thorin." She turned and took both of his hands again. Her form seemed to change rapidly, her defining features remained the same, but she grew taller, shrunk low. Wrinkles, scars, age spots all came and went from her face and neck, but her vibrant eyes remained on his face, piercing his soul.

"Know this name, do not forget her." Her grip on his hands began to lessen, fear bubble up from his stomach as his hands found her forearms.

"What is your name," He ask, pulling her slightly, a silent plea for her to stay. She smiled as her form began to fade. 

"Garnet."

Thorin lurched forward as her name burned his ears, Garnet. The stars shone above him, giving him light as he stumbled to his feet. Bleary eyed, struggling to connect with the earth below his feet, his foot found a root and caught on it. Pain shot up his leg as he fell against a tree, sliding back to the forest floor. Memories flashed in his mind of the River Running and a chill entered his heart as a shadow fell across him. 

It wasn't just a dream, He thought. Garnet took me to that desolate farmhouse, for whatever reason. 

His mind reeled, the chill in his heart grew as he sat and processed all that had happened to him within the past week.

 With a furious shake of his head, Thorin stood up again, walking away from the roots and shadows of the Forest, making his way towards the road again. He couldn't let those thoughts stop him. He had to get to Erebor, not to reclaim it however. This time, it was to save his nephews from their Horrible Fate. He knew he couldn't convince them not to go, he had tried last time to no avail. He only hoped that this time they would be more careful, that he would be more careful.

Author’s Note

Ok, so I know I said there would be longer chapters ahead, and I promise there are, but I forgot how short this one was.... The next one makes up for it, I promise, I think it’s like.... 27 pages/9k~ words?

Oh! Before I forget, you can read ahead on Quotev, under the same name!

Tags: @tschrist1 @emrfangirl

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

[fai-marie-521]

An Unexpected Tagalong (P.4)

    An Unexpected Tagalong:

(Hello! I hope you enjoy the third chapter! I would love to hear what you all think and any constructive criticism is gladly taken. I want to get better! ^-^)

In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. Estella Took loved the comfort of her home. The smell, the sounds. But something was always missing. She was a Took after all. She had the need for adventure in her blood. The stories she has read by her fireplace have twisted her mind and she often daydreamed of adventures of her own. Little did she know that on her 35th birthday, she would get exactly what she always dreamed of.

Main Characters: Estella Took, Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins

TW: None, I don’t think. If I’m wrong please tell me and I will fix it right away!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ When the house grew quiet, Estella grew eerie. Just a moment ago the house was booming with happiness and laughter. Now it was so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat. Boom, boom. It steadily beat against her chest. Estella and her cousin follow the wizard to greet the newcomer. The other dwarves watched from the distance. They all stood as tall as they can. Their chests puffed out proudly. Whoever was waiting beyond the door, the dwarves held to high regard. Estella didn't know it but she held her breath within her lungs. With anticipation building up inside of her, she stands close to Bilbo, a stern grip on his forearm. Bilbo wouldn't admit it to Estella but he was so curious. Deep down he was actually excited. Gandalf slowly opened the door, and there he stood. A dwarf with sharp features. Long black hair. His eyes glanced around the house quickly and when Estella met his her breath hitched. Blue meeting brown. Ocean washing up onto Earth. Time felt so slow in that split second their eyes met. Bilbo stared in awe of this man as well. He wasn't like the other dwarves, though he bared some qualities that were similar to Kili and Fili.

Estella's mouth urged to drop open when the dwarf walked in and talked. His voice gravelly and deep. It was like a symphony. Almost beautiful from words so common. "Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find." He grumbled. The man was grumpy. He wore it on his face in a scowl-like frown. Estella might've thought that he was just pissed off but soon she would find out that it was his resting face. " I lost my way, twice." He clips off his cloak and drapes it over his arm.

Estella raises a brow. Was the Shire really that complicated? The others seemed to have no trouble. The man glances at the open door behind him. " I wouldn't have found it at all, had it not been for that mark on the door." He says. Bilbo almost looked like he was going into cardiac arrest. "Mark?" He gasped. "There's no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!" Estella laughs nervously when Bilbo goes to examine his door. She quickly slides between him and his entrance, closing the door with her rear. "Better if you don't look at it, don't you think?"

"There is a mark, I've put it there myself," Gandalf admits, almost quietly. The disapproving look that Bilbo had for Estella quickly turned to the tall wizard. There is an awkward pause before Gandalf continues. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield." Thorin looked over Bilbo. He looked down at him as if he was prey. Bilbo shifted his weight to each foot uncomfortably under Thorin's gaze.

"So, this is the hobbit." Thorin scoffs. He hands his cloak to Kili, retaining eye contact with Bilbo." Tell me, Mr.Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

Bilbo's head slightly tilts and he chuckles as if what Thorin said was a joke, "Pardon me?" He shared a confused look with Estella quickly before turning his attention back to the dwarf.

"Axe or sword, what's your weapon of choice?" The question made Estella wanted to laugh. The image of her Bilbo carrying an axe far too large for him, trying to swing it and ultimately falling on his butt. Thorin begins to circle around Bilbo.

"Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know. But I fail to see why that's relevant."

The second-hand embarrassment spread over Estella. Her cheeks grew pink for Bilbo while he remained absolutely clueless. Thorin shakes his head, " I thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." Bilbo scoffs, offended as the other dwarves laugh.

"Now, now!" Estella barks in Bilbo's defence. "Bilbo may not be experienced in the way of a warrior, but if you're looking for a hobbit then Bilbo is the best you'll get!" Bilbo flashed her a horrified look. A tad bit grateful but none-the-less horrified.

The dwarves' laughter died down when Thorin looks past Bilbo and straight at Estella. She stared into his deep blue eyes and could've sworn she was drowning. His stare was so heavy but she stood her ground underneath it. "Who might you be? Mrs.Baggins?" He asks.

"Ugh, no!" She groans. Estella has had to answer that question far too many times tonight. She lets out a sigh, releasing her annoyed feelings along with the exhale. "I am Estella Took. Bilbo's cousin."

Thorin glanced her over, an eyebrow arched. "Greetings." He mumbled. Bilbo gave his cousin a thankful look before going to settle their new guest down in the dining room. A warm plate of food was given to the dwarven prince, and then the discussions were started. The dim lighting was a perfect ambiance for the feeling of the room. While the dwarves talked, Estella and Bilbo stayed toward the back close together, watching and listening to every detail.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?" Balin asks curiously.

Thorin gives the old warrior a nod: "Aye, envoys from all seven kingdoms." The dwarves happily give little cheers.

Dwalin hums, looking intently at his prince, "And what did the dwarves of the Iron Hill say? Is Dain with us?"

Thorin sucks in a breath as if he was scared to reveal what his cousin had said. "They will not come." He finally admits. The entire table of dwarves groans in disappointment. Their expressions express almost sadness that their kin will not assist them. "They say our quest is ours and ours alone."

"So it's true? You really are going on a quest then?" Estella suddenly butts in. She hadn't meant to intrude but her words poured out of her mouth before she could stop them. Thorin looks at the halfling and before he could reply Gandalf coughs quickly. "Bilbo, my dear fellow, could we have some more light?" He asks.

Bilbo, still intrigued by the happening going on in his dining room, clicks out of his little wonderland and nods, "Oh yes, of course." The hobbit quickly goes to retrieve a candle to provide more light to his guests. Once Bilbo leaves the room, Gandalf takes out a worn-out, folded paper from his grey robe. "Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak," He lays the parchment flat before Thorin. Estella couldn't help to get a closer look at the scroll. A map! She looked over Thorin's shoulder in awe. A real-life map, like from her books! Bilbo swiftly returns with the candle, holding it over Thorin's left shoulder. Both halflings stare at the map, their eyes twinkling in wonder. Gandalf points at an ink mountain upon the parchment. "The Lonely Mountain," Bilbo reads. His voice was low but curiosity was laced in the words. Gloin nods, "Aye! Oin has read the portents, and the portents say: it is time."

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold. When the birds of the old return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end." Oin confirms.

Bilbo looks around, "I'm sorry... 'beast?'"

"Well that would be a reference to Smaug the terrible," Bofur says, almost a little too cheery. "chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks, extremely fond of precious metals."

"A dragon then?" Estella asks in an excited tone. Bilbo couldn't believe the excited expression Estella wore at the mention of the fire drake. Ori suddenly rises to his feet. "I'm not afraid, I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of the dwarfish iron right up his jacksy!" He exclaims bravely. Estella couldn't help but grin at the courage of the small dwarf. His friends around him cheer him on until Dori pulls the lad back into his seat.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us, but we number just thirteen," Baline begins. He looks around at his brethren, not exactly in a fond way. "and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest."

The dwarves begin to argue amongst themselves at that. Swearing that they are not dim. Fili hits the table, getting the attention of those around him, "We may be few in number. But we're fighters, all of us! To the last dwarf!"

Kili nods in agreement with his brother. "And you forget we have a wizard in our company, Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time." He points out. Gandalf puts his hands up. "Oh, well. No, uh, I...I wouldn't say..." He stutters out.

Dori looks up at the wizard expectantly. "Well, how many then?! Go on, give us a number!"

The dwarves begin to argue once more. Voices growing angrier by the second. "Please... Please!" Bilbo tries to ask. Even Thorin's face was expressing annoyance toward the loud shouts.

Estella huffs at the dwarves. "Excuse me!" She shouts above the yelling. The dwarves grow quiet and look at the young hobbit. "Please, lower your voice. Heated voices will not solve anything." The dwarves mumble to themselves but remain quiet. Thorin gives her a pleased glance, and she bows her head at him as a "you're welcome."

"If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look East to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected," Thorin continues. "Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?" Thorin stands up and for a moment the company was united once more, cheering with their leader.

"You forget the front gate is sealed," Balin reminds them. The cheers die down into silence. "There is no way into the mountain."

Gandalf shakes his head. "That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true." He holds up a key. It was old looking. Sharp edges. Very dwarvish. The hobbits look at it fixedly. It was very new to them.

"How came you by this?" Thorin watches the key the moment Gandalf takes it out.

"It was given to me by your father by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now." Gandalf hands the prince his birthright. Fili, on the other side of the table, smiles widely.

"If there's a key! Then there must be a door!" He exclaims.

Estella chuckles at the dwarves. Sure they might be great warriors, she thought to herself, but they sure aren't the smartest. Bookwise, anyways. Gandalf points to red markings on the map, to which Bilbo and Estella look closely at. "These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls," Gandalf says.

"There's another way in!" Kili happily exclaims.

"Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it, but there are others in Middle-Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But if we're careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar!" Ori says in realization.

Bilbo nods, still a little clueless. "Hmm. And a good one too. An expert, I'd imagine."

"And are you?" Gloin asks. Everyone looks to Bilbo, expecting an answer. Estella looks to him too, scared of what her dear, clueless cousin would say next.

"Am I what?"

"He says he's an expert!" Oin exclaims.

"Me? No! No, No, No! I...I'm not a burglar. I've never stolen a thing in my life."

"Bilbo has always had a good record," Estella admits. "But us hobbit's are very light on their feet! We are very good at sneaking about! If you need a burglar, Bilbo and I would be great for the job," She thinks of their times when they would hide from the Sackville-Bagginses, hoping to the gods that they wouldn't see them. They were pretty good at that. What's a little dragon? Estella semi-regretted what she had said when all eyes were on her now, including Bilbo's. He really wished she wouldn't include him in her lust for adventure. Sure, he shared that want but he refused to admit it.

"What?" She asks.

"We? Who says you were going, lassie?" Dwalin says, staring at her.

Estella turned red. She had not meant to include herself into the conversation... or maybe she did? The young lass always wanted an adventure, so when one showed up for her cousin...

"No offence Lady Took, but Bilbo nor you, are hardly burglar material," Balin says softly.

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves. Especially for a young lady like you." Dwalin agrees.

Voices begin to rise again. Dwarves arguing. Upon the yelling and sudden rejection, Estella wanted to cry. Not because she isn't getting what she wanted but because she thought she might've found a way to get out of the Shire. Have a purpose other than reading and baking and eventually dying with a husband she wouldn't have loved and few children. Don't get her wrong! Estella loved families and children but she wanted more to life. She wasn't getting any younger. Bilbo somehow could feel her sadness, radiating off of her. He pulled her close by the shoulder as the dwarves argued louder and louder. "Enough!" Gandalf booms. A grey cloud rolls throughout the room, the lights dimming. His voice was like a crack of thunder forcing the dwarves to finally get quiet once more. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!"

The two hobbits stared at the wizard, surprised by his outburst. "As Lady Took had said before, hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose, and while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of a dwarf, the scent of a hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr.Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest. And he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know," Gandalf glances toward Bilbo. ", including himself."

"I would also not look over Ms.Took here either! She has shown interest in your adventure, which is more than your own kin! She, along with her cousin, would be an amazing asset to the company," Gandalf vouches. The dwarves mumble and whisper to each other while the wizard sneaks a wink to the girl. She smiled happily at him. Gandalf was truly an outstanding man.

The wizard looks to Thorin, "You must trust me on this."

The dwarf sighs, nodding. "Very well, we will do it your way." He grumbles. "Give him the contract."

Bilbo shakes his head, "No! No... wait please!"

"We're in! We're off!" Bofur exclaims, smiling like a fool.

Balin gets out a folded piece of parchment. Holding it out to Bilbo. "It's just the usual. Summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth." He tells him.

Bilbo takes the parchment. Estella stares at the contract in Bilbo's hand like it's gold. Her heart pounds so hard she can hear it in her own ears. It almost felt as if it would pounce right out of her chest. Especially when Thorin looks her straight in her eyes, "And if you would like to join your cousin, then sign underneath him. You are... welcome to join."

Just at that Bilbo's face grew pale. He looks at his cousin, lump in throat. "Please Bilbo, we must at least look at it!" Estella says.

"I- Estella, he literally said FUNERAL ARRANGEMENTS- Does that not scare you?" Bilbo whimpers but sees his cousin's eyes. They were so bright. They have never, ever been this bright. "Very well, let's look at it." He unfolds the parchment. When it fell open, the contract was almost as tall as Bilbo himself. Bilbo glances over, reading out loud. Thorin in the dining room watches the two hobbits as they look over the terms. He looks at Gandalf, a serious frown on his face. He leans in and whispers sternly, "I cannot guarantee his safety, nor the girl's."

Gandalf frowns at that but nods. "Understood."

"Nor will I be responsible for their fate."

"...Agreed."

Bilbo follows the words with his finger, mumbling aloud with Estella watching over his shoulder. "'Total's cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding, one-fourteenth of total profit if any.'" He reads aloud.

"Seems fair," Estella says with a grin.

"Uh...' The present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, including, but not limited to...lacerations. Evisceration...." He carries on. Bilbo unfolds more of the contract. His face grows pale for the tenth time that night as he reads the next word. "...Incineration?" Estella stares at the word in front of her. She wasn't afraid of the word. I mean, they were facing a dragon! Of course, this would be possible!

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," Bofur confirms. Estella gave the dwarf a stern look as Bilbo begins to breathe heavily.

"Breath, dear. It's okay." Estella says sweetly, rubbing his back comfortingly. Bilbo shakes his head.

"Are you all right, laddie?" Balin asks.

"Huh?" Bilbo says, trying to catch his breath. "Yeah, I just feel- a little bit faint."

"Come on Bilbo, you should sit down," Estella whispers to him.

"Think furnace, with wings." Bofur grins. Not quite understanding that Bilbo is hyperventilating.

"I...I...I need air."

"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash!"

Bilbo stares at Bofur in horror. He looks at the dwarves for a moment, and then his dear cousin. The image of him and worst of all her, becoming a pile of ash passes through his mind. "Nope." He mumbles, before falling backward onto the wooden floor unconscious. Estella gasped and hurried to his side. She glares at Bofur, who slightly cowers under her stare.

"He was obviously not comfortable with that! Why would you continue on?!" She scowls.

"I- sorry ma'am-"

"No. Shush." She snaps, shutting the dwarf up quickly. " Gandalf can you help me take him to his armchair?"

Gandalf stands up, walking to the halfling's side. "Of course Lady Took."

"Blasted dwarves, have no sympathy," Estella mumbles under her breath before helping Gandalf take Bilbo to his chair. The dwarves talk quietly amongst themselves, in fear that Estella might snap at them again. They were already very fond of the sweet girl but didn't wish to see her angry.

It didn't take long for Bilbo to wake up from his episode. Gandalf sighs in relief and glances over at Estell who held his hand by his side. "Do you need anything, dear?" She asks. Bilbo shakes his head and pats the top of her hand.

"I'm okay,"

"Lady Took, do you mind-" Gandalf asks, glancing at her and back at the archway.

"Oh no. Of course not," She says kindly. She smiles at Bilbo. "Call me if you need anything."

Estella leaves the room for the two to talk. She decides to walk back to the dwarves who still talked low. She sees some smoking, sipping their ale in silence, whispering to each other. In the hallway, near the room she had just left was Thorin Oakenshield and Balin. Thorin leaned against the wall of the hobbit hole and Balin sitting across from him.

When they see Estella, they sit up a bit straighter. Balin gives her a smile, to which she instantly returns. "How is the laddie doing?" Balin asks.

"Better. I think." Estella sighs.

"He's a bit squeamish," Thorin shakes his head.

"You can't exactly blame him. He's lived in a safe place for most of his life, this is new to him."

"What about you?" Thorin asks.

"What about me?"

"You haven't fainted yet," amusement was in the prince's voice.

Estella smiles slightly, "You're right. I won't lie, I've dreamed of an opportunity to get out of the Shire for years."

"Is that so?" Balin laughs.

"My father always told me of my ancestors. The warriors, the adventurers. It's in my blood," Estella sighs. "I need to get away. I mean, for the love of the gods, you all have been far kinder to me than my own people." Estella sighs. She glances over her should to look toward the room she left Bilbo in. " Bilbo doesn't understand I don't belong here."

Balin and Thorin look at her sympathetic eyes and she lets out a nervous laugh. "I apologize, I doubt you want to hear my life story. I always overshare to people that listen."

"Well, dearie, you are very welcome to our company." Balin kindly tells her. A comforting hand on her forearm.

"A strong, willing heart. That's very important. The world needs more of that," Thorin says, low. His eyes avoided Estella's but it was still very meaningful. Her heart skipped a beat and she felt accepted by him. Not fully but she had foot through through the door.

Suddenly, Bilbo hurries away from the room. Estella watches him with a large frown. Balin shakes his head in disappointment, "It appears we have lost our burglar. Probably for the best. The odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toymakers. Hardly the stuff of legend..."

Thorin smiles down at his old friend. "here are a few warriors amongst us."

"Old Warriors," Balin frowns.

"I would take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills, for when I called upon them, they answered. Loyalty, honor. I can ask no more than that." Thorin says fondly and Estella's heart flutters. His trust in these dwarves was heartwarming. Estella already knew that this man is someone she would gladly follow.

   "You don't have to do this. You have a choice. You've done honorably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains. A life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor."

   "From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me. They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin. Not for me."

    Balin solemnly nods, standing up on his feet. "Then we are with you, laddie. We will see it done."

    The old dwarven warrior walks back to the company of dwarves, leaving Estella and Thorin. She peeks over at the dwarf who was actually taller than her. She hadn't realized how close she was until she looked over. He was beautiful with his strong jawline, long onyx hair, literally perfect skin. Who was this man? If she hadn't known any better, she would have thought he was a god of some sort. Thorin Oakenshield was surreal. "I am with you as well, sir'. If you will have me," Estella tells him softly.

      "Thank you, Lady Took. We are leaving at daybreak," He informs her.

      They lock eyes and she gives him a giant smile, in hope of getting him to. "You got it! Daybreak it is!" Estella nods. Thorin, to her disappointment, didn't smile back but he gave her a minute grin. Very, very minute. It was better than nothing she supposed. "Get some rest," He mumbles to her, then goes to join his kin. Estella kept smiling though he was gone. What a man. Then she remembered, Bilbo. She supposed she ought to Estella quickly turns and rushes off toward Bilbo's room. "Bilbo! Dear!" She calls out as she enters the room. And there he was leaning against his bedpost on the foot of his bed. He looked upset. Estella sits next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

     "You're going..." Bilbo mumbles. It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

     "Yes."

    And that was that. They both just stared into the nothingness. Nothing but low voices beginning to sing. Low and rumbling voices filling the halls, with the sorrowful song of their lost home. The two hobbits listened together, solemnly.

  Far over the Misty Mountains cold.

  To dungeons deep and caverns old.

  We must away ere break of day.

  To find our long-forgotten gold.

 The pines were roaring on the height, the winds were moaning in the night.

  The fire was red, it flaming spread.

  The trees like torches blazed with light.

[bookenders]

Find the Word Tag

This time, I was tagged by @maybeillwriteit! Thanks!

I have been charged with discovering  love, rain, happy and soft.

Love - From an abandoned WIP:

The door to her private room, which was never really closed all the way, creaked open and the four hallway doctors shuffled inside before arranging themselves into a stunted half-circle around her bed. Doctors sure loved their half-circles. The grumpy woman in the lab coat spoke first. “Good morning, Miss Williams. Sorry to bother you so early, but it’s time for rounds. I’m Dr. Melissa Halden, the lead cardiologist on your case.”

Rain - From “Incarnate”

Midway through my sixth year, I cut my finger on a broken branch that had fallen from a tree during a storm. My mother feared I would cry, but I did not utter a sound. I knew there were worse things in this world than pain. That afternoon, the dam shattered under the weight of storm water and half the town was swept away. Those in charge blamed the rain, but I knew that this was no natural disaster.

Happy - From a story I kinda gave up on

Upstairs, the only room that hadn’t been repainted was the master bedroom, where her parents lived until they didn’t. Her mother’s favorite color was green, so her father painted the walls a nice mint color. “Happy wife, happy life,” his friends told him. He didn’t think so. Alisha’s father preferred to make sure his entire family was happy before he treated himself to anything. That might have been why he died so young. He gave away all of himself and didn’t save any to live on. 

Soft - From “Village Well” [⬅you can read the whole thing here!]

The dark faded into warm sunlight as Meghan plopped onto soft grass that crunched gently under her boots. What was winter was now a warm and sunny spring. Meghan found herself sitting in the middle of a small meadow. The grass swayed to and fro, birds chirped, and a light wind rustled through the trees on the far edges of the clearing. Up above, the sky was a crisp blue, its color wavering and flowing with flashes of silver and sunlight streaming through like feathers.

Bilbo Taggins: @nightskywriter, @aslanwrites, @disfunctionaldeity-writes, @thechildrenofthestars, @writingidkher, @battlestargalaska, @ofinscriptions, @quilloftheclouds, @katekyo-bitch-reborn, @writingonesdreams and all who are up to the challenge!

Your words are bark, glove, swish, and clear.

[thewingedragon]

An Unexpected Journey PT 1

It was a beautiful day in the Shire, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the hobbits were taking to their homes and fields peacefully. The Hobbits were small cheerful creatures who had no idea of ​​the kind of evil that lived outside their borders. They loved the comforts of home and, above all, loved their routine … Bilbo Baggins was one of them. Bilbo was proud to be a hobbit and a Baggins. The Baggins were very respected by the hobbits, they were always on time and nothing unexpected had ever happened to him. That’s why Bilbo could not help frowning and sulking when a hooded figure approached him as he sat on the bench in front of his house savoring old Tobia … Bilbo looked up from his pipe in surprise. “Good morning,” Bilbo said in a surprised tone; “What do you mean? Do you want to wish me a good morning or do you mean it’s a good day or not? Or maybe you mean that you feel good on this particular morning or are you just saying that this is a morning to be good?” hooded figure in such a surprising way that he left little Bilbo without words intent on finding a valid answer

“All together, I suppose.” Finally Bilbo answered, looking completely lost. Gandalf suddenly seemed slightly disappointed by this response and Bilbo’s confusion increased. “Can I help you?” The young hobbit asked, just wanting to get back to his pipe. Gandalf narrowed his eyes and looked at the Hobbit and answered; “This remains to be seen, I’m looking for someone to share an adventure with.” Now, I do not imagine that anyone west of Bree has a lot of interest in adventures, bad things, disturbing and uncomfortable, they make you late for dinner, hm, mm “Bilbo answered quickly, several minutes passed. Gandalf was still in his exact same position, unsatisfied with the Hobbit’s response, so Bilbo began to head for his home and sent a quick “hello” to Gandalf in hopes of ending that strange conversation. However, Gandalf’s voice stopped him once again. “You have changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins.” The wizard’s voice was full of disappointment. After all, he had placed his only hope in this hobbit. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” Bilbo asked, now really curious to know what it was. “Well, you know my name, even if you do not remember that I belong to it, it’s Gandalf! And Gandalf means … me.” The wizard replied, hoping Bilbo would at least remember who he was. “Gandalf … not Gandalf, the wandering magician, who made such excellent fireworks! The old Took used them on the eve of Midsummer.” Bilbo laughed more at ease suddenly and Gandalf nodded with his head. “Well, Hmm, I had no idea you were still in business.” Bilbo concluded. “And where should I be?” Churches Gandalf slightly offended. “Ah, ah! Hmm, hmm …” Bilbo tried to find an answer as he blew confused on his pipe. “Well, I’m glad to find that you remember something about me, even if it’s just the fireworks.” Gandalf said suddenly …. “Well, it’s decided, it will be very good for you and a lot of fun for me, I’ll inform the others.” The wizard nodded and picked up his cloak, ready to leave with a sneer on his lips. “Tell me who?” “No.” “No.” “No waiting!” “We do not want adventures here, thank you.” “Neither today!” I suggest you try over the hill or through the water. “Good morning.” Bilbo said frustrated as he retired in his little house, gesturing towards Gandalf with his pipe. Gandalf watched amused as the hobbit closed the door. Once inside, Bilbo leaned against his confused door and a little relieved to be in the safety of his home. Suddenly, the hobbit heard a curious noise at his door. He put his ear near the door and noticed that the noise came from Gandalf who drew a luminous symbol on Bilbo’s door with his cane.

The same evening at Bilbo’s house-

“Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin, Dwalin, Balin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori … Ori ..” Gandalf, looking around, understood. Components were still missing. The most menacing dwarf interrupted the wizard’s thoughts; “He’s only late, he traveled north for a meeting of our relatives, he will come.” Dwalin said, after hearing Gandalf’s comment about their leader’s delay. Dwalin was Thorin’s right arm and best friend, if anyone knew where the boss was, it was him. Gandalf was about to answer when the bell rang once again. Bilbo looked up at Gandalf and whimpered, how many more dwarfs are still there! The wizard walked down the corridor to open the door, while Bilbo and the other dwarfs followed him; “Welcome to Thorin,” Gandalf said The dwarf at the door was the future king of Erebor, not the head of the company; He was handsome with his long, wavy black hair, his short, well-groomed beard, his posture was strong and his confidence radiated around the dwarf, but his real trait was his eyes … of a kind of blue deep that could penetrate your soul and keep your heart in a look. His eyes were cold, but at the bottom he could see the immense pain and the pain that was eating him alive. “Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. I would never have found it if it had not been for that mark on the door. "Thorin said as he entered the living room.

"Mark? There’s no sign on that door.” It was painted a week ago! “Bilbo said suddenly as he faced Thorin as if he wanted to check his door, Gandalf looked rather uneasy in Bilbo’s statement and grumbled under his beard. "There’s a brand, I put it there myself.” Gandalf began with a gentle smile as Thorin took off his cloak and handed it to his younger grandson with a smile. “Bilbo Baggins, let me introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.” Bilbo seemed slightly confused as he turned to watch Thorin begin to surround the hobbit, judging him as his eyes widened on the gentle creature. “So, this is the Hobbit.” “Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you fought a lot?” Thorin asked, his voice full of sarcasm. “Forgive me?” Bilbo asked in response, confused. “Ax or sword? What is your favorite weapon?” The king of the dwarves stopped again in front of the hobbit and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Well, I have some skills in pulling chestnuts if you need to know, but I can not figure out why it’s relevant.” Bilbo seemed rather proud of his ability but Thorin grinned and the poor hobbit looked bewildered. “He looks more like a grocer than a thief.” Thorin spoke, earning a strong laugh from the other dwarves. As the company’s laughter grew louder and louder, at the same time another figure was passing the main courtyard of the Beggins house, a girl who was also hooded was a few inches away from the main oval door, stretched out her arm ready to knock, but a dull noise made her turn suddenly towards the wood “sShhhh you can not come with me yet! If they saw you now they could be frightened "the figure she turned to was not visible because of the deep darkness, in fact if anyone had passed at that moment would have only seen a young girl talking to a tree and nothing more. The girl’s body turned back to the door and this time after a deep breath knocked …

[justsomewritingsandshit]

Nothing Can Beat Home

Bilbo Baggins x Siren!Reader

Length: 1680 words

Warnings: not really, just cute!bilbo and domestic!reader, fem reader?

Requested

Hobbits were a simple race, who led very simple lives.

Their needs were little; they like to live close to the earth and nature, taking pride in their grass-covered homes and their gardens. Generally, staying away from the troubles of the ‘big people’ of Middle Earth, as well as large bodies of water (due to hobbits often not being able to swim), was how they kept such happy, simple lives. Hobbits found happiness in the simple pleasures of life. Enjoying good food, drinking good ale, smoking good pipe weed, and joining joyous gatherings were all the luxuries they needed in life.

Fitting into the Shire had been a long and arduous process for you – mostly due to you having to understand the significant physical and cultural differences between the siren people, your people, and the hobbits.

Physically, you were far taller than the hobbits (your people were classed as ‘big people’ by the hobbits), and you did not have the same hairy feet they did. Your soles weren’t as durable, either, so you confused the residents of Hobbiton by wearing soft, leather-made slippers when out and about. They didn’t understand how you could be confined like that, but then you didn’t truly understand why they took such efforts to groom their feet – but ultimately decided it must be more to do with the culture they have created for themselves.

Culturally, hobbits were quite solitary. They claimed that they were happier staying out of the goings on in Middle Earth. As such, they typically avoided leaving the Shire – so they definitely found your need to roam the land quite odd. Often, rumours and hearsay about you could be heard in the markets and taverns of the Shire, there was plenty to say of Bilbo Baggins’ wife and her un-hobbitlike behaviour. But a siren, like a hobbit, is connected to the earth and to nature, but more so rivers, lakes, and the sea, all of which reside no-where near Hobbiton – so, you did a lot of travelling.

Despite your genetic disposition to often roam to the nearest body of water, nothing could top the feeling you get when you re-entered the Shire, which was now your home. Not to mention the complete joy you felt as you stood at the familiar (but freshly re-painted) green hobbit-hole door. The Baggins’ home, aptly named Bag End, was famous in Hobbiton, as it was carved by Bilbo’s father, Bungo, decades ago, as gift for his bride, Belladonna Took – quite the declaration for a mere hobbit.

Normally, there was only silence, or the sound of Bilbo muttering to himself as he cleaned, to be heard in the hobbit-hole. However, this evening there was plenty of noise (specifically voices) emanating from within the home, which was very odd considering your husband Bilbo was not the type to entertain guests so late into the night. He strictly believed in ‘quiet time’, by this time of night.

“Hello?” You called out as you stepped into your home, quickly closing the door behind you, all the whilst wondering what on Middle Earth was going on. “Bilbo?” Where there had been nothing but noise, there was now only silence. “Bill?” You called out your personal nickname for your husband, suddenly quite worried.

“Who are you?” The gruff voice that accosted you, emerged from within the body of a balding dwarf who suddenly appeared to the left. He looked at you, judging your tall frame, and your elf-made clothing, before he suddenly had a short dagger pointed at you. “What is an elf doing at a secret dwarrow meeting?” Why would there be a secret dwarrow meeting, in the Shire? What was wrong with the mountains that dwarves resided in?

Two voiced rang out, calling the name “Dwalin!”, one reprimanding and unfamiliar, the other panicked and known to you. Bilbo scampered towards you, quickly followed by a white-haired dwarf, with shock and fright slapped onto his face, “Y/N!” He came towards you, bravely placing his tiny body between your own and the dwarf’s dagger. That was your husband, sweet and brave (no matter how little he believed so).

All of the commotion between the four of you, had caused twelve other dwarves to exit from the dining room. They all swarmed into the entrance hall, trailed by a tall, elderly man draped in grey robes – who could possibly be the famous grey wizard, Mithrandir. Despite being completely surrounded now, what you focused on wasn’t the number of dwarves around you, or the weapons they held, or even the hostile looks that they threw towards you – really, what your mind had zeroed in on, was the fact they were all wearing muddy travelling boots! They’d tracked mud all through your home!

Bilbo tried to take a hold of the situation as best he could, which was by demanding the dwarf to lower his weapon, “It’s quite unnecessary, Master Dwalin!” He spluttered out, “I-I demand you lower your weapon!” Your sweet hobbit flapped his hands, frantically trying to get the dwarf to listen to him. The dwarf did not listen, or obey Bilbo’s demands.

Silence was beginning to crowd the atmosphere of the entrance hall.

Unexpectedly, one of the dwarves from the group lumbered forward. There was a sense of majesty oozing from his being, that wasn’t present in the other dwarves. It felt like his every movement was majestic. Said dwarf had dark hair, and didn’t seem as old as some of the other dwarves, but also not as young as some of them, either. Also, he wore a lovely shade of blue. Vaguely, you thought about asking him where he purchased the garment, because it looked lovely and well-crafted.

Any sense of regal-ness he emitted was very much marred by his angry looking scowl, which he seemed to be sending to both your husband and the elderly man (who, was possibly the Mithrandir some of your elvish friends have mentioned). Honestly, you wondered why this dwarf seemed simultaneously royal, and undiplomatic. “Gandalf, why does your hobbit thief protect an elf?” He levelled a disgusted look at you, which wasn’t as frightening to you, as he would think it was. Rather, his looks and question only sent you further into a rage.

“I am not an elf, thank you very much!” and “How dare you speak of my wife in such a manner!” were spluttered out at the same time. Bilbo was wagging his finger at the dwarf who had insulted you, his face very much becoming the colour of one of his prized tomatoes.

Dwalin, the dwarf who quickly put away his weapon at the mention that you happened to be the lady of this house, grunted towards you, “You look like an elf, and you dress as one too!” Was he trying to defend his preposterous actions towards you?

“Tell me Master Dwarf, if I dressed as a rabbit, and hopped around for a bit, would you assume me an animal? Would you hunt and gut me for your dinner?” Bilbo shot you a look, his wide-eyes telling you to stop being so sarcastic to those who had just held you at the end of their dagger. Ignoring his look of fear, you gazed down at your husband, “Bilbo, what is going on here?” You waved your hand at the large group, “Who are all these dwarves? And, why haven’t they been courteous and removed their muddy shoes at our door, like all other guests are required to do?” Some of the dwarves looked rightfully told-off. As they should, your floors were filthy!

“I am terribly sorry for such a mess, young miss. Please excuse our actions, I was entirely unaware that Bilbo had married” The elderly man looked just as chastised as some of the younger-looking dwarves did (probably because he, too, still wore his muddy shoes). “I am Gandalf the Grey.” Oh, he was the infamous wizard! “Pray tell is your name, my lady?”

Despite not being used such formal words, you managed to collect yourself, and swiftly informed them all of your name. “I am Y/N Baggins, wife of Bilbo Baggins, lady of Bag End, and former member of the Seiren.” It felt unfamiliar to refer to yourself in such a manner, as you hadn’t had to formally introduce yourself in years – not since your first entry into the Shire.

“A siren?” Gandalf’s eyes twinkled, as if truly amused by such news. “How does a siren come to live in the Shire, so far from water?” The dwarves, that still huddled too close to you, looked puzzled by Gandalf’s words. You assumed they did not know what a ‘siren’ was, which was understandable, many people knew nothing of your people. They were rumoured to be as secretive as dwarves, ironically enough.

Your answer to the wizard’s question was short, “Love, Mister Gandalf.” Normally, you would have accepted to talk in circles with him, but you found yourself slightly too drained. “Now, I have travelled long and far, and would very much enjoy refreshing myself, before any discussions shall take place.” You crouched down, bringing yourself to the same height as your husband, now ignoring all others in the hall, “I shall go do that, but I expect a full explanation of the goings-on when I return.” Bilbo looked worried, as if he feared your reaction to what he would tell you. Deciding that you did not like such a look on him, you quickly distracted him. You leaned towards him, sultrily whispering into his ear, “I missed you, husband.” And, before he could protest at the company that would witness, you pressed a soft kiss to his smaller lips, promises of later left unsaid, but very much visible to him.

As you walked away, sauntering off to your and Bilbo’s shared bedroom, a young-sounding voice muttered out, “How did you find such a woman?” Awe lined every word spoken.

Several chuckles and Bilbo’s squeak of embarrassment followed the question, easily sending your small smile into a full-blown grin. Yes, nothing could beat the feeling of being home again.

TAGGED:

@iamwarrenspeace, @stilesloverdaily, @itsnotnormalteen

[mylittledragonhoard]

A Patchwork Family Series

Part Two: Of Paint and Patience

AO3 Link

Pairing: Eventual Bagginshield (but focuses more on the kids.) Notes: Modern Au, family fluff, kid fic Warnings: Eventual angst, but I’m aiming more for fluff.

Ori meets an impatient pair of brothers who just want to see his boss about a dragon.

Friday afternoons were Ori Nain's favourite shifts during the week. Bag End was never super busy like a city store would be, but Fridays were always the days when people who worked or went to school outside of the town came home for the weekend. Ori was a people watcher and he enjoyed seeing the familiar faces of those who came into the store and those who milled passed outside.

It was the third week in July, so there was no school to worry about except for those who had summer school on Tuesdays and Thursdays and needed to take the bus into the city. It wasn't too hot, but weather in the Shire was always fairly nice this time of year, which meant more people would be outside. There were a few milling about Bag End though, mostly browsing.

"I think I have everything now, Ori." A pretty blonde woman made her way up to the counter, setting three more books with the two already waiting for her. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting."

He offered her a friendly smile before motioning along the front counter. "Not to worry, all of these invisible people will gladly wait for you, Eowyn." He promised.

She laughed and turned toward the invisible people, "Thank you all. I will be done right away." She stated before turning back to Ori, her smile beaming from their playing. "You're such a silly boy." She shook her head, amused.

Ori puffed out his chest as he rang her books into the register. "I'll have you know, I'm not a boy anymore." He huffed out, but the effect was ruined by his smile. He was at that awkward age when he wasn’t quite an adult, but not a teenager anymore. Though, if you asked his brother, he was always awkward no matter what age.

Her eyes widened and she gasped. "That's right! You're going to college in the fall! Dori told me when I saw him last. Journalism, right?"

He ducked down to grab a paper bag from below the counter. "That's right. Hopefully it'll be what I expect it to be." He shrugged as he began to pack her books in the bag for her. He’d been writing for his school paper since he entered high school, and he had gotten a few articles published in The Shire Post, the local paper.

The front door opened to allow customers in as she reached out and squeezed the hand holding the last book. "I bet it'll be more than what you expect. You've been writing since the moment you learned the alphabet, and you always had the best articles in the school paper, I know you'll do fine."

"Thank you, Eowyn. That means a lot." He said sincerely before folding the top of the bag. "Is there anything else that I can help you- oh." He cut himself off in surprise as he spotted two small children who had slipped through the door.

Eowyn looked back in curiosity to see them as well.

Two boys stood standing a few feet away, looking a little anxious as they waited for Ori to finish with his customer. The brunet child hid behind the blond as he clutched to some sort of stuffed animal while his eyes darted around the room. He fidgeted as though holding still was the last thing he wanted to do, and every time he moved too far away, the blond would pull him back.

They were both wearing clothing that had definitely seen better days. The brunet had on dark blue shorts and a faded green Incredible Hulk t-shirt, and the blond was wearing black jeans faded to a grey colour and a red and white striped shirt. Both sets of clothes looked splattered with paint in various colours and in various places, including a faint dusting of grey freckles across the brunet’s face.

"Can I help you boys?" Ori asked from behind the counter, wondering if they were lost but having his doubts. They didn't have the usual panicked look of lost children..

The blond had been standing on his toes as he tried to see over a shelf nearby, searching for something until he realized he was being spoken to. Someone had weaved a few braids in his hair, and the end of one braid was being chewed on until he opened his mouth to speak. "Kili wants to show Mr. Bilbo his dragon." He explained as he set himself down on his feet again.

Ori couldn’t even remember a time he’d ever seen the man with a child before, so hearing his boss's name come from one so young was a little surprising.

The brunet frowned and tugged on the blond's arm; his hair had been tied back away from his face at one point, but most of the wild curls had escaped and were now bouncing around the boy’s face as he moved. "Fee! I wanted to tell him!" He whined softly and even stomped his foot a little.

The blond didn’t react to the display, or else he was used to the attitude. He only looked at the brunet and grinned. "Tell them then."

Ori watched in amusement as the brunet suddenly turned shy, the toe of an untied blue and white sneaker was scuffed against the wooden floor. "I wanna show Mr. Bilbo my dragon." He repeated and after a moment he held the stuffed toy up to show Ori and Eowyn.

It was clearly a dragon, with its long tail and flappy wings. It was dark green in colour and its eyes were black. The mouth was open in a permanent grin and what looked to be white felt lined the jaws for teeth. It seemed to be free of any paint splatters.

"That is a cute dragon." Eowyn began before Ori could speak. She leaned a little closer to the two to get a closer look. "I think Mr. Baggins would love to see a dragon like that." She promised before offering them both a smile. She straightened and then took her bag from Ori. "I'll be on my way so you can help these young gentlemen. See you soon, Ori." She promised, leaving with a wave. "Goodbye boys!" She called over her shoulder.

Ori watched her go for a moment. Apparently it was too long of a moment because a voice made him look away.

"Is she your girlfriend?" The blond asked.

Brown eyes widened and he turned to regard the two children again. They were both looking at him curiously and he couldn't help but flush. "No, she's just a friend." He insisted, unsure why he was insisting. Who were these kids anyway?

“She called my dragon cute.” The brunet made a face, because clearly his dragon was not cute.

“She’s a girl, Kee. They think everythin’s cute.” The blond reassured him.

"Can we see Mr. Bilbo now?" The brunet wondered once more, clearly the more impatient one of the two.

"I'll see if he's in." Ori promised, already knowing that Bilbo was in the back room. He moved from behind the counter and headed toward a door between two bookshelves. "Mr. Baggins, you have a couple of visitors who are demanding to see you." He began, spotting the older man sitting at the small table in the room where they ate their lunch.

He had a sandwich in front of him and he'd just taken a bite. The frown on his face told Ori that he had no idea what the young man was talking about. Ori cleared his throat. "Apparently they've come to see you about...a dragon." He couldn't help but smile at that because it was rather absurdly adorable.

The confusion didn't clear up at first, Bilbo's frown deepening as he mulled the words over. Then, as if a light had been turned on, his eyes widened and his frown disappeared. He placed his sandwich back on the plate and got up to follow Ori back into the main part of the building.

Bilbo spotted the two children but then looked around the room. "And just what do you two think you're doing here? Does your father know where you are this time?" His hands went to his hips as he asked sternly, aware that Ori was watching.

The brunet pulled the blond closer to Bilbo though he really didn't need to as they were both moving forward eagerly to greet him. "I wanted to show you my dragon!" He replied as he held the stuffed toy out so Bilbo could take it. “Daddy said we could show you.” He promised.

After a moment Bilbo took the plush dragon and actually knelt down before the two youngsters. He made a few humming sounds as he looked over the toy as if really inspecting it, moving its wings and making its mouth open and close. "This...is a mighty fine dragon." He finally nodded and offered both children a smile which made the two of them relax as though Bilbo’s opinion about the dragon really mattered. "Does he have a name?"

"She." The brunet said right away, beaming proudly now that his dragon had been accepted. "Her name is Fang." He rocked back on his heels and forward onto his toes.

"’Cause of her big teefs," The blond offered helpfully, but was quick to add, "She doesn’t breathe fire." Ori had to wonder about the soft and serious tone in that statement, but perhaps that was simply the way of this child.

"Fire’s bad, no fire.” The brunet agreed.

"She sounds like a well behaved dragon then. You've trained her well, Kili." And Ori watched a little stunned as his normally (slightly) grumpy boss reached out and ruffled the child's dark hair.

The blond made a slightly disgruntled noise as he pushed forward a little, causing Bilbo to chuckle. The man moved and ruffled his hair too. "And now you have two dragons to protect, Fili."

Bilbo glanced up and noticed Ori still watching. The teen flushed a little and looked away, busying himself with a few books on the back counter that he still needed to re-shelve. He couldn't help it, observing people was a habit he couldn’t break out of now.

"Ori, come here, please." He heard Bilbo call to him.

With a soft sigh, the ginger haired teen turned around to regard his boss. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, and he knew Dori would have scolded him a little for being so rude.

Bilbo didn't look unhappy though, and in fact looked happier than Ori had ever really seen him before. "Ori, this is Fili and Kili." He touched the top of the blond's head first, then the brunet’s. "Boys, this is Ori. He works here with me." He explained.

"Hi Ori." They both spoke at the same time, the way twins do sometimes - or so Ori had read about once.

"Hello." He leaned forward on the counter, waving to the two of them. "And who do you belong to?" He wondered curiously. There were a few new families that had moved into the Shire recently, though he hadn't seen children.

"They're Thorin Oakenshield's sons." Bilbo explained when Fili and Kili looked up at him for a response. "We met earlier this week."

News traveled fast around the Shire, so Ori had heard the name a couple of times this week. "The man who bought the building down the street?" He wondered, looking at his boss and wondering why Bilbo even knew the name when he barely paid attention to any chatter.

"The very same." Bilbo nodded.

The children, of course, had to be the reason, Ori thought after. Bilbo wasn’t exactly a recluse as he had a wide circle of acquaintances, but he was known to be rather unsociable most days. How he could ignore all the gossip going on around him was beyond the teen.

Ori mostly heard it from some of the women in town that had been talking. Bag End had its usual crowd in the mornings after Bombur's bakery opened next door and the ladies liked to have their coffee and cakes while sitting down in the quiet atmosphere of Bilbo's store, taking up the little circle of couches and chairs in the middle of the room. It was hard not to overhear their conversations, and Ori knew that this Thorin Oakenshield had certainly caught the attention of a few of them. If they weren't gossiping about why he'd bought the old building, then they were going on about his 'enchanting eyes' and his 'deep, soulful voice'.

Ori had thought they'd been reading too many romance novels, and he couldn't imagine his boss willingly listening to their nosy talks.

"Welcome to the Shire, lads." Ori smiled kindly at the two boys looking up at him. "I'm sure you'll fit right in here with us."

The bell atop the door rang then, and everyone looked over to see who had entered the quiet place.

Ori didn't know the man by sight, but his keen eyes took in the way the figure was looking down at the two children in front of Bilbo. His face held worry, hiding a slight bit of panic, edging on relief now as he looked each child up and down.

He was tall, though not too tall; broad in the shoulders, but not overly muscled from what Ori could see. The simple white t-shirt, that was dusty and covered in what Ori assumed to be the same paint the boys were covered in, showed off the black ink running along both of his arms. Ori couldn’t see what the tattoos were from his vantage point, but the dark colour was rather eye catching when those arms crossed over that broad chest. The worn jeans this specimen had on seemed to be in the same condition as his shirt, and he had a smear of grey under his left eye.

Well, speak of the Devil.

This had to be Thorin Oakenshield.

"Fili. Kili." The voice was deep, and Ori had to admit, maybe the women hadn't been too far off on that 'deep, soulful' idea. He also knew the tone this man used quite well, and he immediately felt bad for the two youngsters. He had been on the receiving end of one of Dori's scoldings more often than he cared to remember.

Upon hearing their names, each boy looked down at the floor knowing that they had done something wrong.

"You ran off again." Thorin stepped further into the building and moved swiftly over to the two children, surprising Ori when he knelt down in front of the two instead of towering over them.

He wished Dori would have been so thoughtful sometimes.

Fili and Kili looked at each other before looking at their father.

"You said we could show Mr. Bilbo Kili's dragon." Fili began.

"I did," Thorin admitted, "but I also told you we'd come here together when we were done painting for the day, didn't I?"

“We was tired of paintin’,” Kili complained, “an’ we wanted to see Mr. Bilbo!”

“Didn’t I?” Thorin repeated a little sharper than before, though he didn’t raise his voice.

The brothers looked at each other once more before both glanced down at the floor in chastisement. "Yes..." They both murmured their apologies. "We're sorry." They were perfectly in time together, and Ori was fascinated by it.

"I should apologize." Bilbo spoke up then, "I should have known it was something like that."

Thorin simply shook his head, looking more tired than angry as he forced himself back to his feet to address the other man. "They know better than to run off. Usually they're better behaved." He sighed to himself before looking down at the children. "But this is a conversation for at home. Say goodbye to Mr. Baggins now, so we can go."

Both of the children whined, but one look from their father quieted them down. The brunet turned, hugging his dragon to his chest. "Bye Mr. Bilbo. Thanks for lookin’ at my dragon."

"She's a great dragon, Kili." Bilbo promised as he offered the little boy a smile.

"Sorry for bugging you, bye Mr. Bilbo." Fili said next.

As Fili was closer to Bilbo, the man gently patted his head, "Not a bother at all, Fili, but next time you better listen to your father.”

"I promise." The blond said after a moment, nodding to himself as if he was going to do just that from now on.

"Sorry for interrupting your day once more, Mr. Baggins. I hope next time it’s under different circumstances. Good day." Thorin managed a slight smile as he picked Kili up and set him on his hip. The boy curled against his chest and tucked himself against his father's shoulder. The man held out his hand for Fili to take as he nodded in Ori’s direction and once the child had, the three of them made their way back out of the shop and disappeared down the street.

The room was quiet for a few moments before Ori finally spoke up upon realizing that his boss was staring. His voice woke Bilbo from his thoughts. "So, it seems you've had an interesting week, Mr. Baggins." He couldn't help his smile. “He hopes to see you next time…?”

Bilbo looked at him as he also realized he'd been staring at the departing family. The slight blush that appeared across his face was quite curious. "Yes, apparently so." He cleared his throat. "Now, those books aren't going to put themselves back on the shelves. And when you're done that, I'll need you to print off the inventory order form, please." He gave orders in an attempt to distract, and Ori knew it.

His grin widened but he allowed Bilbo to change the subject. "Of course, consider it done."

"Good. Good." Bilbo repeated before disappearing back into the employee area to hide or finish his lunch, Ori wasn't sure. A little of both, maybe.

What he was sure about, however, was that things were going to be a little more interesting around Bag End if this new family returned again, and Ori had a feeling they would.

He was looking forward to it.

[fiction-drabbles]

Spitfire

A/N: @lathalea replied to my last post with “why not both” and my poly self is absolutely here for it so here we go! This part doesn’t have much Bofur in it yet, but next part (if people end up liking this one) definitely will. If you want a part 2 to this, please let me know and give some feedback!

Pairing: Thorin x OC x Bofur

Word Count: 1,073

Warnings: None

The Shire has always been a quite little town, but it seemed like tonight was especially quiet. Kat has never been a fan of the quiet, despite her brother’s insistence that it was one of the best parts of living here. Bilbo always was more like their father, while Kat tended to show the more Tookish side of their ancestry.

That was exactly what led her to take a walk at such a late hour. Unfortunately, that also led her to being late for supper and she knew Bilbo would be cross with her for staying out so late. He never did seem to fall for her puppy dog eyes……

Kat was so lost in the thought of her cross brother, that she completely missed the stranger rounding the same turn as she was. She barely registered running into something before she was falling. Next thing she knew, a hand reached out and gripped her wrist, pulling her up and steadying her. Her green eyes shot up to meet a pair of cobalt blue eyes, shining brightly despite the dim light of the evening.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Are you okay,” she quickly asks.

The dwarf in front of her raised an eyebrow at her outburst, somehow making such a simple action look regal.

“I should be asking you that question as you are the one who almost fell,” he says.

As soon as his deep baritone voice reached her ears, goosebumps erupted on Kat’s arms. How could someone’s voice be that deep? She had never met anyone in the Shire with such a tone.

“I-I’m fine, thank you. Oh, my name is Kat Baggins, at your service. I’m sorry but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before. Are you visiting someone or just passing through,” she asks, snapping herself out of her daze.

“My name is Thorin. I’m here to visit someone, however this town was not as easy to navigate as my companion had said,” he explains, huffing slightly at the end.

“Well lucky for you I’ve lived here all my life so I know it very well. Where are you hoping to end up,” she chuckles.

“I was told that the home was referred to as Bag End. Does that sound familiar,” he asks.

Kat’s smile immediately dropped as her brow furrowed. That couldn’t be right, could it? Bilbo wasn’t friends with any dwarves as far as she knew. She would be more apt to befriend a dwarf than her dear brother. But, Thorin had said Bag End clear as day, so maybe they were friends of friends?

“I can show you to Bag End. Follow me,” she says.

She once again set off down the path as Thorin followed silently by her side. In no time at all, she was opening a familiar gate and watching as he approached the green door and- was that something carved into the door? She had just painted that! So focused on the carving, she was startled when Thorin banged loudly on the door before he turned to look at her once again.

“Thank you for showing me the way,” he says, clearly attempting to dismiss her.

Before she could respond, the door opened. However, it wasn’t her brother behind the door, but a very tall older man with grey hair and a grey beard. Behind him, she could clearly see even more dwarves inside her home. What in middle earth was going on here?

“Gandalf,” greets Thorin as he steps inside, “I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice.”

“Yes, sorry to interrupt but who carved a mark into the door,” Kat questions angrily as she pushes her way into the home.

“Mark? There is no mark on the door, I had it painted only a week ago,” exclaims her brother as he pushes his way through the other dwarves standing off to the side.

“Had me paint it, I think is what you mean. And I guarantee that there’s a mark on the door,” she huffs, giving Bilbo a look.

“Your sister is right, I put the mark there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield. Kat, I see the two of you have already met,” introduces Gandalf.

Thorin lifts an eyebrow after hearing Gandalf refer to Kat as the sister of Bilbo, but doesn’t even spare her a glance. Instead, he slowly stalks toward Bilbo.

“So, this is the Hobbit. Tell me Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting,” Thorin questions as he began circling Bilbo

“Pardon me,” mutters Bilbo, anxiously catching Kat’s eye.

“Axe or sword? What is your weapon of choice,” continues Thorin.

“Well I do have some skills at Conkers if you must know. But I fail to see how that’s relevant,” says Bilbo.

Kat sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. Oh Bilbo, that did not help your case at all.

“Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar,” laughs Thorin, causing Kat’s face to flush in anger.

“While I may not know why my brother needs to look like a burglar or have any skills with weapons, I do know that you and your company are in our home, eating our food, without even letting us know you would be showing up! The least you could do is not be rude. And I prefer a sword, if you were ever planning on asking me,” rants Kat, glaring at the dwarves.

Silence falls quickly as they all stare at her, Bilbo shifting closer as though attempting to shield her from their gazes. It seems like no one has ever used that tone with Thorin before, as he looked like he was trying to decide if he was impressed or offended.

“Now, I hope some food has been saved for myself and Thorin to eat while we work out why exactly you’re here,” she snips.

She spins on her heel quickly and stalks into the kitchen, her curly red hair fanning around her as she does so. Silence follows in her wake for a moment before a dwarf with a funny hat finally breaks it.

“Well Mister Baggins, you forgot to mention that your sister is a spitfire,” he whistles lowly.

Spitfire indeed. I’ll show you spitfire if your so called “leader” continues insulting my brother.

[agirlunderarock]

Writing through the Decade: 18 years old (2015)

Okay so my senior year of high school was characterized by TWO THINGS when it came to what I was reading. The first half of the year was the first time I read the Harry Potter series, up until that point I had only seen the movies. The second half, December specifically, The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies came out and WRECKED ME, and basically I was so upset with the ending that I went and read the Hobbit thinking that the movie changed how it ended just for dramatic effect. Of course I was wrong and I ended up reading Lord of the Rings, and halfway through the fellowship of the ring I was introduced to Game of Thrones.

But you’re not interested in what I was reading, you’re more interested in the like 3 big life events during that year. So I turned 18 September of 2014, and that was pretty much it. I became an “adult” and spent most of my time doing college searches. Graduated in May, and started college that fall. I don’t really have much to say on any of those things, aside from they happened

oops

But this piece of writing is part of a larger collection of writing, that some of you may have read on another part of the internet. Yes that is also me, yes this is another fanfic, I was still very fond of first person narrators, and this is just one the chapters I really enjoyed writing. 

~ Chapter 3 Complications

       A cool clean breeze greeted me as I stepped outside. Though I enjoyed the merriment of the dwarves more than Bilbo, the noise and smell of ale were starting to smother me and give me a head ache. Much like the crowds of the Prancing Pony. Stretching, I sat down on the small bench in front of the hobbit's house to admire the stars twinkling above. I breathed in deeply letting the cool air clear my lungs and spinning head while I listened to the muffled ruckus coming from inside Bilbo's home.     'Do not allow them any reason to doubt you, to underestimate you, or think less of you. If you fail you will never have their respect.'  My father had told me.     I sighed, roughly running a hand through my hair. How in Middle Earth was I to persuade these dwarves to let me accompany them when only three of them acknowledged my existence? Balin, Fili, and Kili were the only dwarves who even greeted me upon arrival, the others attempted to use me a coat rack or as a means of getting food. The more I pondered these thoughts the more uneasy my stomach felt, though it probably didn't help that I had not eaten anything since breakfast.     The sound of frustrated grunts pulled my attention away from my problem at hand. In the shadows between the flickering flames in the hobbit homes a figure lurked. More angry sounds came from the shadow as it crept along the path leading toward where I sat. Part of me wanted to see what person or creature could be stalking through the Shire, the other more rational part decided that it was a good time to go back inside.     I was not surprised to see Bilbo arguing with one of dwarves, Bofur I think, over doilies. I shook my head lightly, finding the situation rather amusing. I was knocked forward as another dwarf scurried passed. I twirled around only to almost crash into Gandalf as he counted each dwarf off his fingers. "Kili, Fili, Balin, Dwalin, Oin, Gloin, Bifour, Bofour, Bombur, Ori, Nori, Dori...." He looked around a crease coming between his eyebrows.     "Gandalf is something wrong?" I wondered as he continued to search for something.     "Ah there you are Thyra." He stated calmly. "Now we are missing just one more person." He added under his breath. Just then there came a harsh knock on the door. Poor Bilbo, looking very tired and exhausted, scrambled to the door just as Gandalf opened the door.     There stood what I assumed to be the final dwarf. He carried himself with dignity and a high purpose. He stepped inside bringing with him an air of importance. I did not hear much of what he said upon walking in, because evidently something about me screamed coat rack. "I would not have found it at all if not for the woman slamming the door and the mark on it." His deep voice rumbled as he turned his dark blue eyes to me as I hung his cloak.     I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling awkward under his hard gaze. He was not much shorter than I, maybe only an inch or two. His thick dark hair held small streaks of silver, and a black beard outlined his sharp jawline. 'So this is the person who was storming about outside.' I thought to myself, feeling a bit bad that I did not offer any assistance. "Thyra, Bilbo, meet the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield." Gandalf said. Thorin nodded to Bilbo and me, and I curtsied in reply. Bilbo, on the other hand had taken to inspecting his door.     "What mark? There is no mark! I only painted it two-" Bilbo fussed.     "Of course there is a mark!" Gandalf scolded the hobbit. "I placed it there myself!"      I found myself rolling my eyes as the two continued to bicker. I hadn't realized I sighed until I felt eyes on me again. "I was not expecting to see a woman here." He stated.      I shrugged, not surprised at this point. "My name is Thyra Sieglinde, and don't feel too bad, it seems no one had been expecting me." I said frowning at the thought of most of the dwarves ignoring me. "That is except Gandalf." I said turning my attention back to Bilbo and Gandalf again.     The dark haired dwarf followed suit. "Seems more like a grocer, than a burglar." He commented gruffly. I merely shrugged, I didn't quite understand why that would matter. However, Thorin caught Bilbo's attention. Because the hobbit stopped fussing with the door and fully acknowledged him with a curious glance. "Tell me what kind of weapons are you familiar with?" Thorin demanded.     "Well I am quite skilled with conckers, if I do say so myself." Bilbo stated quickly a bit startled by the sudden question. His brown eyes found mine with confusion.     "I thought that much." Grumbled Thorin, as he stalked off where the others greeted him excitedly.     "Err Gandalf, what was that all about?" I questioned while Bilbo scuttled off to sweep the area.     "All in good time my dear." He chuckled. "Though, have you thought of how you are going to request to join this quest?" He asked his tone serious.     "Well I-" I began, but truthfully I had not come up with anything. And if Thorin was the dwarf I needed to convince, well it would be easier said than done. "How can I, Gandalf? I have mostly been ignored." I relinquished fearful.     "You have allowed yourself to become the woman your aunt has taught you to be." Gandalf stated matter of factly. "Your father told you many things about your mother, what is the one thing he always said?"     "She made sure nobody forgot her, whether it was by her words or actions." I mumbled, not sure how this applied to me.     "I believe Lyra Sieglinde would have a fit knowing her daughter has merely been playing hostess!" Gandalf scolded. I nodded in agreement. "Good now come up with something, and you should probably bring Thorin some stew. I suspect he has not eaten."      I gapped at Gandalf at the final part of his statement. He smiled lightly obviously amused by my reaction. I rolled my eyes and decided bringing the stew to the dwarf would be a decent excuse to show myself in the dining room.      I walked in to find all the dwarves surprisingly quiet while Thorin gave them what I assumed rather grim news. Kili and Fili both looked up solemnly, but gave me small smiles. "Ehem, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I did not know if you'd eaten." I gestured to bowl in my hands with a sheepish smile.      "Thank you." Thorin said nodding. I shot Gandalf a look as he chuckled at me. Thorin's dark blue eyes scanned over me curiously, seeing my silent exchange with Gandalf. "Is there something else you wish to say?" He asked carefully.     I felt my face heat up quickly. "I err- Yes." I said quickly. I will not lie, despite that he was sitting, and even if he stood I would be taller, I felt small and insignificant. 'Do not allow them any reason to doubt you, to underestimate you, or think less of you.'  I inhaled deeply and stood up straighter. "I wish to request your permission to join your quest."      Thorin stared up at me evenly. Kili and Fili gapped at me, while the other dwarves finally took notice of me. I crossed my arms nervously. "And what makes you think you are in such a position to make such a request?" Thorin demanded coldly.     My eyes flicked to Gandalf for help, though he carefully avoided meeting my eyes. My stomach twisted uncomfortably, "My father, Herluin Sieglinde, was asked by Gandalf to accompany you on your quest-"     "Yes, Gandalf said that he would get another guide for the company. Why did he not come to our gathering?"     "He had other business to attend to." I said sharply. Not wanting to tell them about his illness. "He wished for me to attend in his place-"     "Why did he not send his son?" One dwarf, (Gloin perhaps?) spoke out.     "What business was it? Why couldn't you take care of it for him lass?" The dwarves questioned accusingly.     The front part of my head was beginning to throb. They were not going to let me speak if I did not act soon. "My father has no sons!" I shouted. I saw Bilbo stop sweeping to peer in from the living area and dwarves went silent surprised by my outburst. "His business is none of mine and he would not tell me!" I stated sternly. "Now may I continue?" When I received nothing but curious stares, I decided it would be safe to continue. "As I said my father was asked by Gandalf to continue guiding you lot across Middle Earth after you travel through the mountain pass on the edge of the Wilds. He would appreciate it if you would allow me to accompany you." I got the request across now came the tricky part.      "I will not put woman in harm’s way." Thorin said sternly.     "I understand, but I could be helpful-" I started     "What weapons can you use?" He demanded.     "Well I'm decent with a bow and arrow but-"     "Would you be able to defend yourself?"     "Yes, of course, and I know healing." I said quickly before he could cut me off again.      "I cannot guarantee your safety." Thorin said solemnly.     "I'm not asking you to." I responded.     "You are either very brave or very foolish for wanting to assist us, but I cannot allow you to come. My decision is final." He finished with his cold eyes taking in my reaction.     I looked to Gandalf pleadingly, he avoided my gaze. I looked to the dwarves, surely one of them would plea my case. Both Kili and Fili eyed me with pity, the others stared at me blankly. Even Bilbo eyes held sympathy for me. My chest tightened when I turned back to Thorin, "Very well." I said trying to keep my voice even. "I-I und-derstand." I muttered bowing my head. I turned and quickly walked away refusing to be embarrassed further by shedding tears.         From where I stood in the kitchen, I could hear all about the journey. How they needed a burglar to steal from the dragon. They wanted Bilbo for the task, even if he was feeling reluctant. I could hear the outburst from the dwarves at Gandalf’s suggestion followed by Gandalf's defense of the poo hobbit. "You asked me to pick the fourteenth man for this journey, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins! If I say he is a burglar, then a burglar he is! He may not look it, but he has a lot to offer, whether or not he believes that yet."     I gripped the edges of the sink until my knuckles turned white. This was foolish. All of it. I wanted to scream at my father for agreeing to go on this quest. At Gandalf for suggesting I come to this foolish gathering. At Bilbo for being invited and allowed to go. I wanted to scream at Thorin for thinking so low of me. Where was my defense? Where was my wizard who'd vouch for me? A tear rolled off my cheek. Something bad would happen to my father, and I wouldn't be able to help him.     "Are ya alright lass?" A voice asked coming up behind me.     "Yes, I'm fine." I said wiping my eyes. "Just finally getting some food. Perhaps I should have grabbed some earlier." I said turning to see Balin looking at with concern.     "You don't need to hide it lass. It is understandable that you'd be upset. You're only trying to stay with your family I assume?" Balin said kindly. I nodded, not meeting his eyes. "I see. I'm sorry lass, but you have to understand, that a journey such as this is no place for a lady."         "There is no need to worry about me. I understand the concern but it is not needed." I argued feeling defeated.         "I do not doubt that. You seem like a brave and caring woman." Balin said a small smile on his face.     "Thank you Balin." I said leaning against the counter. "But I don't suppose you'd put in a good word for me to join your company." I chuckled hopefully.     "I'm afraid not lass." Balin said. "Come join us over by the fire if you like." I nodded and followed after him.     All around the fire place all thirteen dwarves sat and stood solemn faced and weary. Thorin stood in front of the fire place a pipe in his hand and a distant look in his eyes. Kili caught my eye and motioned for me to sit by him. I sat on the floor next to him and gazed into the fire, oddly feeling calm. A low humming began from Thorin followed by the rest. Then a deep resonating voice began to sing.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold, Two dungeons deep, and caverns old. We must away, ere break of day, To find our long-forgotten gold.

    The dwarves sang the story of Dale much to my horror. Tears stung my eyes, as I continued to listen to the dwarfs’ release of pain. They knew loss, more so than I did. I had no reason to be upset. I knew nothing of loss.

The pines were roaring on the height, The winds were moaning in the night. The fire was red, its flaming spread, The trees like torches, blazed with light.

        I sat in silence. I was an intruder, an outsider, a woman. This was the reason I could not be allowed to join. The dwarves began to murmur amongst themselves, and I took this chance to excuse myself. In the next room I found Bilbo stuck in a daze sitting in a small armchair. "Bilbo?" I murmured. He stared at me blankly. "Err, I don't mean to interrupt, but I believe the dwarves need a place to stay and your home has plenty of extra rooms..." I trailed off. The hobbit nodded numbly. "Bilbo, why don't you go to your room so I know which one not to lend?" He stood up stiffly and walked down the hall and into another room.         "Excuse me?" I said walking back into dwarf filled living area. All eyes turned to me, the intruder. "Master Baggins has told me to lend you all the spare rooms for sleeping." Twelve eager faces smiled at me gratefully as they wondered through the halls. I made sure each of them, not including Gandalf who left muttering something about small beds and another inn, was comfortable then went back to the foyer to grab my pack.     "Where do you think you are going?" A deep voice muttered behind me.     I slung my pack over my shoulder and turned to see Thorin watching me. "Home. I'm not allowed to travel with your company, what purpose is there for me to stay here?" I stated bitterly.     "It is night." Thorin said pointing out the obvious.     "What is your point? I live in Bree, it will not take me long to get back." I muttered casually.     "Foolish woman, do you not understand-"     "I understand that I am an outsider here, and am therefore unwanted." I stated bluntly. "There also are not enough rooms for everyone." I mumbled as an afterthought.     "Take the last room." He said as I reached for the door.      "I see no point in that." I mumbled. By the cold look in Thorin's eyes, I could tell another argument was going to ensue. Running a hand through my hair roughly I attempted to bargain with him. "Unlike you I will be comfortable at home tomorrow night, and not using the ground for a bed. You will take the last room, and I will stay here and sleep on floor by the fireplace. Sound fair?"     "Hardly, but you will only continue to argue if I do not accept." Thorin grumbled.     "That would be correct. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go to sleep." I said taking a step back. "Good night Master Dwarf." I grumbled curtsying and turning on my heel to head to the living room.      As I lied down I heard him mumbling something along the lines of, "Foolish, stubborn woman." Much to my satisfaction, with that I drifted off to sleep. 

[readbookywooks]

An Unexpected Party

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats - the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill - The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it - and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining-rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left-hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep-set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very well-to-do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gained-well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end. The mother of our particular hobbit... what is a hobbit? I suppose hobbits need some description nowadays, since they have become rare and shy of the Big People, as they call us. They are (or were) a little people, about half our height, and smaller than the bearded Dwarves. Hobbits have no beards. There is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday sort which helps them to disappear quietly and quickly when large stupid folk like you and me come blundering along, making a noise like elephants which they can hear a mile off. They are inclined to be at in the stomach; they dress in bright colours (chiefly green and yellow); wear no shoes, because their feet grow natural leathery soles and thick warm brown hair like the stuff on their heads (which is curly); have long clever brown fingers, good-natured faces, and laugh deep fruity laughs (especially after dinner, which they have twice a day when they can get it). Now you know enough to go on with. As I was saying, the mother of this hobbit - of Bilbo Baggins, that is - was the fabulous Belladonna Took, one of the three remarkable daughters of the Old Took, head of the hobbits who lived across The Water, the small river that ran at the foot of The Hill. It was often said (in other families) that long ago one of the Took ancestors must have taken a fairy wife. That was, of course, absurd, but certainly there was still something not entirely hobbit-like about them, - and once in a while members of the Took-clan would go and have adventures. They discreetly disappeared, and the family hushed it up; but the fact remained that the Tooks were not as respectable as the Bagginses, though they were undoubtedly richer. Not that Belladonna Took ever had any adventures after she became Mrs. Bungo Baggins. Bungo, that was Bilbo's father, built the most luxurious hobbit-hole for her (and partly with her money) that was to be found either under The Hill or over The Hill or across The Water, and there they remained to the end of their days. Still it is probable that Bilbo, her only son, although he looked and behaved exactly like a second edition of his solid and comfortable father, got something a bit queer in his makeup from the Took side, something that only waited for a chance to come out. The chance never arrived, until Bilbo Baggins was grown up, being about fifty years old or so, and living in the beautiful hobbit-hole built by his father, which I have just described for you, until he had in fact apparently settled down immovably. By some curious chance one morning long ago in the quiet of the world, when there was less noise and more green, and the hobbits were still numerous and prosperous, and Bilbo Baggins was standing at his door after breakfast smoking an enormous long wooden pipe that reached nearly down to his woolly toes (neatly brushed) - Gandalf came by. Gandalf! If you had heard only a quarter of what I have heard about him, and I have only heard very little of all there is to hear, you would be prepared for any sort I of remarkable tale. Tales and adventures sprouted up all over the place wherever he went, in the most extraordinary fashion. He had not been down that way under The Hill for ages and ages, not since his friend the Old Took died, in fact, and the hobbits had almost forgotten what he looked like. He had been away over The Hill and across The Water on business of his own since they were all small hobbit-boys and hobbit-girls. All that the unsuspecting Bilbo saw that morning was an old man with a staff. He had a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, a silver scarf over which a white beard hung down below his waist, and immense black boots. "Good morning!" said Bilbo, and he meant it. The sun was shining, and the grass was very green. But Gandalf looked at him from under long bushy eyebrows that stuck out further than the brim of his shady hat. "What do you mean?" be said. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is morning to be good on?" "All of them at once," said Bilbo. "And a very fine morning for a pipe of tobacco out of doors, into the bargain. If you have a pipe about you, sit down and have a fill of mine! There's no hurry, we have all the day before us!" Then Bilbo sat down on a seat by his door, crossed his legs, and blew out a beautiful grey ring of smoke that sailed up into the air without breaking and floated away over The Hill. "Very pretty!" said Gandalf. "But I have no time to blow smoke-rings this morning. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it's very difficult to find anyone." I should think so - in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner! I can't think what anybody sees in them, said our Mr. Baggins, and stuck one thumb behind his braces, and blew out another even bigger smoke-ring. Then he took out his morning letters, and begin to read, pretending to take no more notice of the old man. He had decided that he was not quite his sort, and wanted him to go away. But the old man did not move. He stood leaning on his stick and gazing at the hobbit without saying anything, till Bilbo got quite uncomfortable and even a little cross. "Good morning!" he said at last. "We don't want any adventures here, thank you! You might try over The Hill or across The Water." By this he meant that the conversation was at an end. "What a lot of things you do use Good morning for!" said Gandalf. "Now you mean that you want to get rid of me, and that it won't be good till I move off." "Not at all, not at all, my dear sir! Let me see, I don't think I know your name?" "Yes, yes, my dear sir - and I do know your name, Mr. Bilbo Baggins. And you do know my name, though you don't remember that I belong to it. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me! To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took's son, as if I was selling buttons at the door!" "Gandalf, Gandalf! Good gracious me! Not the wandering wizard that gave Old Took a pair of magic diamond studs that fastened themselves and never came undone till ordered? Not the fellow who used to tell such wonderful tales at parties, about dragons and goblins and giants and the rescue of princesses and the unexpected luck of widows' sons? Not the man that used to make such particularly excellent fireworks! I remember those! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve. Splendid! They used to go up like great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire and hang in the twilight all evening!" You will notice already that Mr. Baggins was not quite so prosy as he liked to believe, also that he was very fond of flowers. "Dear me!" she went on. "Not the Gandalf who was responsible for so many quiet lads and lasses going off into the Blue for mad adventures. Anything from climbing trees to visiting Elves - or sailing in ships, sailing to other shores! Bless me, life used to be quite inter - I mean, you used to upset things badly in these parts once upon a time. I beg your pardon, but I had no idea you were still in business." "Where else should I be?" said the wizard. "All the same I am pleased to find you remember something about me. You seem to remember my fireworks kindly, at any rate, land that is not without hope. Indeed for your old grand-father Took's sake, and for the sake of poor Belladonna, I will give you what you asked for." "I beg your pardon, I haven't asked for anything!" "Yes, you have! Twice now. My pardon. I give it you. In fact I will go so far as to send you on this adventure. Very amusing for me, very good for you and profitable too, very likely, if you ever get over it." "Sorry! I don't want any adventures, thank you. Not today. Good morning! But please come to tea - any time you like! Why not tomorrow? Come tomorrow! Good-bye!" With that the hobbit turned and scuttled inside his round green door, and shut it as quickly as he dared, not to seen rude. Wizards after all are wizards. "What on earth did I ask him to tea for!" he said to him-self, as he went to the pantry. He had only just had break fast, but he thought a cake or two and a drink of something would do him good after his fright. Gandalf in the meantime was still standing outside the door, and laughing long but quietly. After a while he stepped up, and with the spike of his staff scratched a queer sign on the hobbit's beautiful green front-door. Then he strode away, just about the time when Bilbo was finishing his second cake and beginning to think that he had escape adventures very well. The next day he had almost forgotten about Gandalf. He did not remember things very well, unless he put them down on his Engagement Tablet: like this: Gandalf 'a Wednesday. Yesterday he had been too flustered to do anything of the kind. Just before tea-time there came a tremendous ring on the front-door bell, and then he remembered! He rushed and put on the kettle, and put out another cup and saucer and an extra cake or two, and ran to the door. "I am so sorry to keep you waiting!" he was going to say, when he saw that it was not Gandalf at all. It was a dwarf with a blue beard tucked into a golden belt, and very bright eyes under his dark-green hood. As soon a the door was opened, he pushed inside, just as if he had been expected. He hung his hooded cloak on the nearest peg, and "Dwalin at your service!" he said with a low bow. "Bilbo Baggins at yours!" said the hobbit, too surprised to ask any questions for the moment. When the silence that followed had become uncomfortable, he added: "I am just about to take tea; pray come and have some with me." A little stiff perhaps, but he meant it kindly. And what would you do, if an uninvited dwarf came and hung his things up in your hall without a word of explanation? They had not been at table long, in fact they had hardly reached the third cake, when there came another even louder ring at the bell. "Excuse me!" said the hobbit, and off he went to the door. "So you have got here at last!" was what he was going to say to Gandalf this time. But it was not Gandalf. Instead there was a very old-looking dwarf on the step with a white beard and a scarlet hood; and he too hopped inside as soon as the door was open, just as if he had been invited. "I see they have begun to arrive already," he said when he caught sight of Dwalin's green hood hanging up. He hung his red one next to it, and "Balin at your service!" he said with his hand on his breast. "Thank you!" said Bilbo with a gasp. It was not the correct thing to say, but they have begun to arrive had flustered him badly. He liked visitors, but he liked to know them before they arrived, and he preferred to ask them himself. He had a horrible thought that the cakes might run short, and then he-as the host: he knew his duty and stuck to it however painful-he might have to go without. "Come along in, and have some tea!" he managed to say after taking a deep breath. "A little beer would suit me better, if it is all the same to you, my good sir," said Balin with the white beard. "But I don't mind some cake-seed-cake, if you have any." "Lots!" Bilbo found himself answering, to his own surprise; and he found himself scuttling off, too, to the cellar to fill a pint beer-mug, and to the pantry to fetch two beautiful round seed-cakes which he had baked that afternoon for his after-supper morsel. When he got back Balin and Dwalin were talking at the table like old friends (as a matter of fact they were brothers). Bilbo plumped down the beer and the cake in front of them, when loud came a ring at the bell again, and then another ring. "Gandalf for certain this time," he thought as he puffed along the passage. But it was not. It was two more dwarves, both with blue hoods, silver belts, and yellow beards; and each of them carried a bag of tools and a spade. In they hopped, as soon as the door began to open-Bilbo was hardly surprised at all. "What can I do for you, my dwarves?" he said. "Kili at your service!" said the one. "And Fili!" added the other; and they both swept off their blue hoods and bowed. "At yours and your family's!" replied Bilbo, remembering his manners this time. "Dwalin and Balin here already, I see," said Kili. "Let us join the throng!" "Throng!" thought Mr. Baggins. "I don't like the sound of that. I really must sit down for a minute and collect my wits, and have a drink." He had only just had a sip-in the corner, while the four dwarves sat around the table, and talked about mines and gold and troubles with the goblins, and the depredations of dragons, and lots of other things which he did not understand, and did not want to, for they sounded much too adventurous-when, ding-dong-a-ling-' dang, his bell rang again, as if some naughty little hobbit-boy was trying to pull the handle off. "Someone at the door!" he said, blinking. "Some four, I should say by the sound," said Fili. "Be-sides, we saw them coming along behind us in the distance." The poor little hobbit sat down in the hall and put his head in his hands, and wondered what had happened, and what was going to happen, and whether they would all stay to supper. Then the bell rang again louder than ever, and he had to run to the door. It was not four after all, it was FIVE. Another dwarf had come along while he was wondering in the hall. He had hardly turned the knob, be-x)re they were all inside, bowing and saying "at your service" one after another. Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, and Gloin were their names; and very soon two purple hoods, a grey hood, a brown hood, and a white hood were hanging on the pegs, and off they marched with their broad hands stuck in their gold and silver belts to join the others. Already it had almost become a throng. Some called for ale, and some for porter, and one for coffee, and all of them for cakes; so the hobbit was kept very busy for a while. A big jug of coffee bad just been set in the hearth, the seed-cakes were gone, and the dwarves were starting on a round of buttered scones, when there came-a loud knock. Not a ring, but a hard rat-tat on the hobbit's beautiful green door. Somebody was banging with a stick! Bilbo rushed along the passage, very angry, and altogether bewildered and bewuthered-this was the most awkward Wednesday he ever remembered. He pulled open the door with a jerk, and they all fell in, one on top of the other. More dwarves, four more! And there was Gandalf behind, leaning on his staff and laughing. He had made quite a dent on the beautiful door; he had also, by the way, knocked out the secret mark that he had put there the morning before. "Carefully! Carefully!" he said. "It is not like you, Bilbo, to keep friends waiting on the mat, and then open the door like a pop-gun! Let me introduce Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and especially Thorin!" "At your service!" said Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur standing in a row. Then they hung up two yellow hoods and a pale green one; and also a sky-blue one with a long silver tassel. This last belonged to Thorin, an enormously important dwarf, in fact no other than the great Thorin Oakenshield himself, who was not at all pleased at falling flat on Bilbo's mat with Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur on top of him. For one thing Bombur was immensely fat and heavy. Thorin indeed was very haughty, and said nothing about service; but poor Mr. Baggins said he was sorry so many times, that at last he grunted "pray don't mention it," and stopped frowning. "Now we are all here!" said Gandalf, looking at the row of thirteen hoods-the best detachable party hoods-and his own hat hanging on the pegs. "Quite a merry gathering! I hope there is something left for the late-comers to eat and drink! What's that? Tea! No thank you! A little red wine, I think, for me." "And for me," said Thorin. "And raspberry jam and apple-tart," said Bifur. "And mince-pies and cheese," said Bofur. "And pork-pie and salad," said Bombur. "And more cakes-and ale-and coffee, if you don't mind," called the other dwarves through the door. "Put on a few eggs, there's a good fellow!" Gandalf called after him, as the hobbit stumped off to the pantries. "And just bring out the cold chicken and pickles!" "Seems to know as much about the inside of my larders as I do myself!" thought Mr. Baggins, who was feeling positively flummoxed, and was beginning to wonder whether a most wretched adventure had not come right into his house. By the time he had got all the bottles and dishes and knives and forks and glasses and plates and spoons and things piled up on big trays, he was getting very hot, and red in the face, and annoyed. "Confusticate and bebother these dwarves!" he said aloud. "Why don't they come and lend a hand?" Lo and behold! there stood Balin and Dwalin at the door of the kitchen, and Fili and Kili behind them, and before he could say knife they had whisked the trays and a couple of small tables into the parlour and set out everything afresh. Gandalf sat at the head of the party with the thirteen, dwarves all round: and Bilbo sat on a stool at the fireside, nibbling at a biscuit (his appetite was quite taken away), and trying to look as if this was all perfectly ordinary and. not in the least an adventure. The dwarves ate and ate, and talked and talked, and time got on. At last they pushed their chairs back, and Bilbo made a move to collect the plates and glasses. "I suppose you will all stay to supper?" he said in his politest unpressing tones. "Of course!" said Thorin. "And after. We shan't get through the business till late, and we must have some music first. Now to clear up!" Thereupon the twelve dwarves-not Thorin, he was too important, and stayed talking to Gandalf-jumped to their feet and made tall piles of all the things. Off they went, not waiting for trays, balancing columns of plates, each with a bottle on the top, with one hand, while the hobbit ran after them almost squeaking with fright: "please be careful!" and "please, don't trouble! I can manage." But the dwarves only started to sing: "Chip the glasses and crack the plates! Blunt the knives and bend the forks! That's what Bilbo Baggins hates- Smash the bottles and burn the corks! Cut the cloth and tread on the fat! Pour the milk on the pantry floor! Leave the bones on the bedroom mat! Splash the wine on every door! Dump the crocks in a boiling bawl; Pound them up with a thumping pole; And when you've finished, if any are whole, Send them down the hall to roll ! That's what Bilbo Baggins hates! So, carefully! carefully with the plates!" And of course they did none of these dreadful things, and everything was cleaned and put away safe as quick as lightning, while the hobbit was turning round and round in the middle of the kitchen trying to see what they were doing. Then they went back, and found Thorin with his feet on the fender smoking a pipe. He was blowing the most enormous smoke-rings, and wherever he told one to go, it went-up the chimney, or behind the clock on the man-telpiece, or under the table, or round and round the ceiling; but wherever it went it was not quick enough to escape Gandalf. Pop! he sent a smaller smoke-ring from his short clay-pipe straight through each one of Thorin's. The Gandalf's smoke-ring would go green and come back to hover over the wizard's head. He had quite a cloud of them about him already, and in the dim light it made him look strange and sorcerous. Bilbo stood still and watched-he loved smoke-rings-and then be blushed to think how proud he had been yesterday morning of the smoke-rings he had sent up the wind over The Hill. "Now for some music!" said Thorin. "Bring out the instruments!" Kili and Fili rushed for their bags and brought back little fiddles; Dori, Nori, and Ori brought out flutes from somewhere inside their coats; Bombur produced a drum from the hall; Bifur and Bofur went out too, and came back with clarinets that they had left among the walking-sticks Dwalin and Balin said: "Excuse me, I left mine in the porch!" "Just bring mine in with you," said Thorin. They came back with viols as big as themselves, and with Thorin's harp wrapped in a green cloth. It was a beautiful gold-en harp, and when Thorin struck it the music began all at once, so sudden and sweet that Bilbo forgot everything else, and was swept away into dark lands under strange moons, far over The Water and very far from his hobbit-hole under The Hill. The dark came into the room from the little window that opened in the side of The Hill; the firelight flickered-it was April-and still they played on, while the shadow of Gandalf's beard wagged against the wall. The dark filled all the room, and the fire died down, and the shadows were lost, and still they played on. And suddenly first one and then another began to sing as they played, deep-throated singing of the dwarves in the deep places of their ancient homes; and this is like a fragment of their song, if it can be like their song without their music. "Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away ere break of day To seek the pale enchanted gold. The dwarves of yore made mighty spells, While hammers fell like ringing bells In places deep, where dark things sleep, In hollow halls beneath the fells. For ancient king and elvish lord There many a gloaming golden hoard They shaped and wrought, and light they caught To hide in gems on hilt of sword. On silver necklaces they strung The flowering stars, on crowns they hung The dragon-fire, in twisted wire They meshed the light of moon and sun. Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away, ere break of day, To claim our long-forgotten gold. Goblets they carved there for themselves And harps of gold; where no man delves There lay they long, and many a song Was sung unheard by men or elves. The pines were roaring on the height, The winds were moaning in the night. The fire was red, it flaming spread; The trees like torches biased with light, The bells were ringing in the dale And men looked up with faces pale; The dragon's ire more fierce than fire Laid low their towers and houses frail. The mountain smoked beneath the moon; The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom. They fled their hall to dying -fall Beneath his feet, beneath the moon. Far over the misty mountains grim To dungeons deep and caverns dim We must away, ere break of day, To win our harps and gold from him!" As they sang the hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves. Then something Tookish woke up inside him, and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves, and wear a sword instead of a walking-stick. He looked out of the window. The stars were out in a dark sky above the trees. He thought of the jewels of the dwarves shining in dark caverns. Suddenly in the wood beyond The Water a flame leapt up - probably somebody lighting a wood-fire-and he thought of plundering dragons settling on his quiet Hill and kindling it all to flames. He shuddered; and very quickly he was plain Mr. Baggins of Bag-End, Under-Hill, again. He got up trembling. He had less than half a mind to fetch the lamp, and more than half a mind to pretend to, and go and hide behind the beer barrels in the cellar, and not come out again until all the dwarves had gone away. Suddenly he found that the music and the singing had stopped, and they were all looking at him with eyes shining in the dark. "Where are you going?" said Thorin, in a tone that seemed to show that he guessed both halves of the hobbit's mind. "What about a little light?" said Bilbo apologetically. "We like the dark," said the dwarves. "Dark for dark business! There are many hours before dawn." "Of course!" said Bilbo, and sat down in a hurry. He missed the stool and sat in the fender, knocking over the poker and shovel with a crash. "Hush!" said Gandalf. "Let Thorin speak!" And this is bow Thorin began. "Gandalf, dwarves and Mr. Baggins! We are not together in the house of our friend and fellow conspirator, this most excellent and audacious hobbit-may the hair on his toes never fall out! all praise to his wine and ale!-" He paused for breath and for a polite remark from the hob-bit, but the compliments were quite lost on-poor Bilbo Baggins, who was wagging his mouth in protest at being called audacious and worst of all fellow conspirator, though no noise came out, he was so flummoxed. So Thorin went on: "We are met to discuss our plans, our ways, means, policy and devices. We shall soon before the break of day start on our long journey, a journey from which some of us, or perhaps all of us (except our friend and counsellor, the ingenious wizard Gandalf) may never return. It is a solemn moment. Our object is, I take it, well known to us all. To the estimable Mr. Baggins, and perhaps to one or two of the younger dwarves (I think I should be right in naming Kili and Fili, for instance), the exact situation at the moment may require a little brief explanation-" This was Thorin's style. He was an important dwarf. If he had been allowed, he would probably have gone on like this until he was out of breath, without telling any one there 'anything that was not known already. But he was rudely interrupted. Poor Bilbo couldn't bear it any longer. At may never return he began to feel a shriek coming up inside, and very soon it burst out like the whistle of an engine coming out of a tunnel. All the dwarves sprang Bp knocking over the table. Gandalf struck a blue light on the end of his magic staff, and in its firework glare the poor little hobbit could be seen kneeling on the hearth-rug, shaking like a jelly that was melting. Then he fell flat on the floor, and kept on calling out "struck by lightning, struck by lightning!" over and over again; and that was all they could get out of him for a long time. So they took him and laid him out of the way on the drawing-room sofa with a drink at his elbow, and they went back to their dark business. "Excitable little fellow," said Gandalf, as they sat down again. "Gets funny queer fits, but he is one of the best, one of the best-as fierce as a dragon in a pinch." If you have ever seen a dragon in a pinch, you will realise that this was only poetical exaggeration applied to any hobbit, even to Old Took's great- granduncle Bullroarer, who was so huge (for a hobbit) that he could ride a horse. He charged the ranks of the goblins of Mount Gram in the Battle of the Green Fields, and knocked their king Gol-firnbul's head clean off with a wooden club. It sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole, and in this way the battle was won and the game of Golf invented at the same moment. In the meanwhile, however, Bullroarer's gentler descendant was reviving in the drawing-room. After a while and a drink he crept nervously to the door of the parlour. This is what he heard, Gloin speaking: "Humph!" (or some snort more or less like that). "Will he do, do you think? It is all very well for Gandalf to talk about this hobbit being fierce, but one shriek like that in a moment of excitement would be enough to wake the dragon and all his relatives, and kill the lot of us. I think it sounded more like fright than excitement! In fact, if it bad not been for the sign on the door, I should have been sure we had come to the wrong house. As soon as I clapped eyes on the little fellow bobbing and puffing on the mat, I had my doubts. He looks more like a grocer-than a burglar!" Then Mr. Baggins turned the handle and went in. The Took side had won. He suddenly felt he would go without bed and breakfast to be thought fierce. As for little fellow bobbing on the mat it almost made him really fierce. Many a time afterwards the Baggins part regretted what he did now, and he said to himself: "Bilbo, you were a fool; you walked right in and put your foot in it." "Pardon me," he said, "if I have overheard words that you were saying. I don't pretend to understand what you are talking about, or your reference to burglars, but I think I am right in believing" (this is what he called being on his dignity) "that you think I am no good. I will show you. I have no signs on my door-it was painted a week ago-, and I am quite sure you have come to the wrong house. As soon as I saw your funny faces on the door-step, I had my doubts. But treat it as the right one. Tell me what you want done, and I will try it, if I have to walk from here to the East of East and fight the wild Were-worms in the Last Desert. I bad a great-great-great-granduncle once, Bullroarer Took, and -" "Yes, yes, but that was long ago," said Gloin. "I was talking about you. And I assure you there is a mark on this door-the usual one in the trade, or used to be. Burglar wants a good job, plenty of Excitement and reasonable Reward, that's how it is usually read. You ^an say Expert Treasure-hunter instead of Burglar if you like. Some of them do. It's all the same to us. Gandalf told us that there was a man of the sort in these parts looking for a Job at once, and that he had arranged for a meeting here this Wednesday tea-time." "Of course there is a mark," said Gandalf. "I put it there myself. For very good reasons. You asked me to find the fourteenth man for your expedition, and I chose Mr. Baggins. Just let any one say I chose the wrong man or the wrong house, and you can stop at thirteen and have all the bad luck you like, or go back to digging coal." He scowled so angrily at Gloin that the dwarf huddled back in his chair; and when Bilbo tried to open his mouth to ask a question, he turned and frowned at him and stuck oat his bushy eyebrows, till Bilbo shut his mouth tight with a snap. "That's right," said Gandalf. "Let's have no more argument. I have chosen Mr. Baggins and that ought to !6te enough for all of you. If I say he is a Burglar, a Burglar he is, or will be when the time comes. There is a lot more in him than you guess, and a deal more than he has any idea of himself. You may (possibly) all live to thank me yet. Now Bilbo, my boy, fetch the lamp, and let's have little light on this!" On the table in the light of a big lamp with a red shad he spread a piece of parchment rather like a map. "This was made by Thror, your grandfather, Thorin, he said in answer to the dwarves' excited questions. "It is a plan of the Mountain." "I don't see that this will help us much," said Thorin disappointedly after a glance. "I remember the Mountain well enough and the lands about it. And I know where Mirkwood is, and the Withered Heath where the great dragons bred." "There is a dragon marked in red on the Mountain, said Balin, "but it will be easy enough to find him without that, if ever we arrive there." "There is one point that you haven't noticed," said the wizard, "and that is the secret entrance. You see that rune on the West side, and the hand pointing to it from the other runes? That marks a hidden passage to the Lower Halls. "It may have been secret once," said Thorin, "but how do we know that it is secret any longer? Old Smaug had lived there long enough now to find out anything there is to know about those caves." "He may-but he can't have used it for years and years. "Why?" "Because it is too small. 'Five feet high the door and three may walk abreast' say the runes, but Smaug could not creep into a hole that size, not even when he was a young dragon, certainly not after devouring so many of the dwarves and men of Dale." "It seems a great big hole to me," squeaked Bilbo (who had no experience of dragons and only of hobbit-holes) He was getting excited and interested again, so that he forgot to keep his mouth shut. He loved maps, and in his hall there hung a large one of the Country Round with all his favourite walks marked on it in red ink. "How could such a large door be kept secret from everybody outside, apart from the dragon?" he asked. He was only a little hobbit you must remember. "In lots of ways," said Gandalf. "But in what way this one has been hidden we don't know without going to see. From what it says on the map I should guess there is a closed door which has been made to look exactly like the side of the Mountain. That is the usual dwarves' method -  I think that is right, isn't it?" "Quite right," said Thorin. "Also," went on Gandalf, "I forgot to mention that with the map went a key, a small and curious key. Here it is!" he said, and handed to Thorin a key with a long barrel and intricate wards, made of silver. "Keep it safe!" "Indeed I will," said Thorin, and he fastened it upon a fine chain that hung about his neck and under his jacket. "Now things begin to look more hopeful. This news alters them much for-the better. So far we have had no clear idea what to do. We thought of going East, as quiet and careful as we could, as far as the Long Lake. After that the trouble would begin." "A long time before that, if I know anything about the loads East," interrupted Gandalf. "We might go from there up along the River Running," went on Thorin taking no notice, "and so to the ruins of Dale-the old town in the valley there, under the shadow of the Mountain. But we none of us liked the idea of the Front Gate. The river runs right out of it through the great cliff at the South of the Mountain, and out of it comes the dragon too-far too often, unless he has changed." "That would be no good," said the wizard, "not without a mighty Warrior, even a Hero. I tried to find one; but warriors are busy fighting one another in distant lands, and in this neighbourhood heroes are scarce, or simply lot to be found. Swords in these parts are mostly blunt, and axes are used for trees, and shields as cradles or dish-covers; and dragons are comfortably far-off (and therefore legendary). That is why I settled on burglary-especially when I remembered the existence of a Side-door. And here is our little Bilbo Baggins, the burglar, the chosen and selected burglar. So now let's get on and make some plans." "Very well then," said Thorin, "supposing the burglar-expert gives us some ideas or suggestions." He turned with mock-politeness to Bilbo. "First I should like to know a bit more about things," said he, feeling all confused and a bit shaky inside, but so far still lookishly determined to go on with things. "I mean about the gold and the dragon, and all that, and how it got there, and who it belongs to, and so on and further." "Bless me!" said Thorin, "haven't you got a map? and didn't you hear our song? and haven't we been talking about all this for hours?" "All the same, I should like it all plain and clear," said he obstinately, putting on his business manner (usually reserved for people who tried to borrow money off him), and doing his best to appear wise and prudent and professional and live up to Gandalf's recommendation. "Also I should like to know about risks, out-of-pocket expenses, time required and remuneration, and so forth"-by which he meant: "What am I going to get out of it? and am I going to come back alive?" "O very well," said Thorin. "Long ago in my grandfather Thror's time our family was driven out of the far North, and came back with all their wealth and their tools to this Mountain on the map. It had been discovered by my far ancestor, Thrain the Old, but now they mined and they tunnelled and they made huger halls and greater workshops -and in addition I believe they found a good deal of gold and a great many jewels too. Anyway they grew immensely rich and famous, and my grandfather was King under the Mountain again and treated with great reverence by the mortal men, who lived to the South, and were gradually spreading up the Running River as far as the valley overshadowed by the Mountain. They built the merry town of Dale there in those days. Kings used to send for our smiths, and reward even the least skilful most richly. Fathers would beg us to take their sons as apprentices, and pay us handsomely, especially in food-supplies, which we never bothered to grow or find for ourselves. Altogether those were good days for us, and the poorest of us had money to spend and to lend, and leisure to make beautiful things just for the. fun of it, not to speak of the most marvellous and magical toys, the like of which is not to be found in the world now-a-days. So my grandfather's halls became full of armour and jewels and carvings and cups, and the toy-market of Dale was the wonder of the North. "Undoubtedly that was what brought the dragon. Dragons steal gold and jewels, you know, from men and elves and dwarves, wherever they can find them; and they guard their plunder as long as they live (which is practically forever, unless they are killed), and never enjoy a brass ring of it. Indeed they hardly know a good bit of work from a bad, though they usually have a good notion of the current market value; and they can't make a thing for themselves, not even mend a little loose scale of their armour. There were lots of dragons in the North in those days, and gold was probably getting scarce up there, with the dwarves flying south or getting killed, and all the general waste and destruction that dragons make going from bad to worse. There was a most specially greedy, strong and wicked worm called Smaug. One day he flew up into the air and came south. The first we heard of it was a noise like a hurricane coming from the North, and the pine-trees on the Mountain creaking and cracking in the wind. Some of the dwarves who happened to be outside (I was one luckily -a fine adventurous lad in those days, always wandering about, and it saved my life that day)-well, from a good way off we saw the dragon settle on our mountain in a spout of flame. Then he came down the slopes and when he reached the woods they all went up in fire. By that time all the bells were ringing in Dale and the warriors were arming. The dwarves rushed out of their great gate; but there was the dragon waiting for them. None escaped that way. The river rushed up in steam and a fog fell on Dale, and in the fog the dragon came on them and destroyed most of the warriors-the usual unhappy story, it was only too common in those days. Then he went back and crept in through the Front Gate and routed out all the halls, and lanes, and tunnels, alleys, cellars, mansions and passages. After that there were no dwarves left alive inside, and he took all their wealth for himself. Probably, for that is the dragons' way, he has piled it all up in a great heap far inside, and sleeps on it for a bed. Later he used to crawl out of the great gate and come by night to Dale, and carry away people, especially maidens, to eat, until Dale was ruined, and all the people dead or gone. What goes on there now I don't know for certain, but I don't suppose anyone lives nearer to the Mountain than the far edge of the Long Lake now-a-days. "The few of us that were well outside sat and wept in hiding, and cursed Smaug; and there we were unexpectedly joined by my father and my grandfather with singed beards. They looked very grim but they said very little. When I asked how they had got away, they told me to hold my tongue, and said that one day in the proper time I should know. After that we went away, and we have had to earn our livings as best we could up and down the lands, often enough sinking as low as blacksmith-work or even coalmining. But we have never forgotten our stolen treasure. And even now, when I will allow we have a good bit laid by and are not so badly off"-here Thorin stroked the gold chain round his neck-"we still mean to get it back, and to bring our curses home to Smaug-if we can. "I have often wondered about my father's and my grandfather's escape. I see now they must have had a private Side-door which only they knew about. But apparently they made a map, and I should like to know how Gandalf got hold of it, and why it did not come down to me, the rightful heir." "I did not 'get hold of it,' I was given it," said the wizard. "Your grandfather Thror was killed, you remember, in the mines of Moria by Azog the Goblin -" "Curse his name, yes," said Thorin. "And Thrain your father went away on the twenty-first of April, a hundred years ago last Thursday, and has never been seen by you since-" "True, true," said Thorin. "Well, your father gave me this to give to you; and if I have chosen my own time and way of handing it over, you can hardly blame me, considering the trouble I had to find you. Your father could not remember his own name when he gave me the paper, and he never told me yours; so on the whole I think I ought to be praised and thanked. Here it is," said he handing the map to Thorin. "I don't understand," said Thorin, and Bilbo felt he would have liked to say the same. The explanation did not seem to explain. "Your grandfather," said the wizard slowly and grimly, "gave the map to his son for safety before he went to the mines of Moria. Your father went away to try his luck with the map after your grandfather was killed; and lots of adventures of a most unpleasant sort he had, but he never got near the Mountain. How he got there I don't know, but I found him a prisoner in the dungeons of the Necromancer." "Whatever were you doing there?" asked Thorin with a shudder, and all the dwarves shivered. "Never you mind. I was finding things out, as usual; and a nasty dangerous business it was. Even I, Gandalf, only just escaped. I tried to save your father, but it was too late. He was witless and wandering, and had forgotten almost everything except the map and the key." "We have long ago paid the goblins of Moria," said Thorin; "we must give a thought to the Necromancer." "Don't be absurd! He is an enemy quite beyond the powers of all the dwarves put together, if they could all be collected again from the four corners of the world. The one thing your father wished was for his son to read the map and use the key. The dragon and the Mountain are more than big enough tasks for you!" "Hear, hear!" said Bilbo, and accidentally said it aloud, "Hear what?" they all said turning suddenly towards him, and he was so flustered that he answered "Hear what I have got to say!" "What's that?" they asked. "Well, I should say that you ought to go East and have a look round. After all there is the Side-door, and dragons must sleep sometimes, I suppose. If you sit on the doorstep long enough, I daresay you will think of something. And well, don't you know, I think we have talked long enough for one night, if you see what I mean. What about bed, and an early start, and all that? I will give you a good breakfast before you go." "Before we go, I suppose you mean," said Thorin. "Aren't you the burglar? And isn't sitting on the door-step your job, not to speak of getting inside the door? But I agree about bed and breakfast. I like eggs with my ham, when starting on a journey: fried not poached, and mind you don't break 'em." After all the others had ordered their breakfasts without so much as a please (which annoyed Bilbo very much), they all got up. The hobbit had to find room for them all, and filled all his spare-rooms and made beds on chairs and sofas, before he got them all stowed and went to his own little bed very tired and not altogether happy. One thing he did make his mind up about was not to bother to get up very early and cook everybody else's wretched breakfast. The Tookishness was wearing off, and he was not now quite so sure that he was going on any journey in the morning. As he lay in bed he could hear Thorin still humming to himself in the best bedroom next to him: "Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away, ere break of day, To find our long-forgotten gold." Bilbo went to sleep with that in his ears, and it gave him very uncomfortable dreams. It was long after the break of day, when he woke up.