It is nighttime; rain falls heavily upon a small, dirty-looking town. It's Bree - on the borders of the Shire. A figure wearing a pack and a raincoat walks through the streets. A disheveled-looking man with his hood down walks across the street, eating a carrot {; this is Peter Jackson}. The figure with the pack is considerably shorter than the other people on the road. The figure walks up to a building and pauses, inspecting the sign hung above the door. It says, "The Prancing Pony." The figure, which is Thorin, looks about, then enters the tavern. As he walks through, the bartender hands a drink to a man.
"There you are." He says. There is much raucous talk and laughter throughout the busy tavern. A black cat perches on a counter. A waitress threads through the crowd at the pub carrying a mug and a platter of cheese and bread. Drunk and unruly customers get in her way, and she moves around them. "Watch it!" She makes her way to Thorin's table and sets down the mug and platter. "Here you are." She says. Thorin thanks her. "Thank you." Thorin puts down his pipe, which he had been smoking. He tears apart his bread and begins to eat it. As he eats, he looks around at all the activities in the pub. Sensing something, he looks to the right and sees a bald, suspicious-looking man watching him. He looks to his left and sees another shady character watching him. Thorin puts his bread back on his plate and, as the two men stand up and move toward him, slowly wraps his hand around the handle of his sword, which is strapped to his pack next to him.
Suddenly, a figure appears at the table in front of him. It is Gandalf, and he sits across from Thorin. "Mind if we join you?" He asks. As the waitress passes by, Gandalf catches her sleeve. "I'll have the same." He says. The suspicious men back away as Gandalf begins to speak to Thorin. "I should introduce myself. My name is Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey." He says. Thorin looks at him. "I know who you are." He says back. What throin doesn't know is that there's someone under Gandalf's hat bend and listening to every word.
"Well, now! This is a good chance. What brings Thorin Oakenshield to Bree?" Gandalf says. "I received word that my father had been seen wandering the Wilds near Dunland. I went looking and found no sign of him." Thorin says, looking grim. "Thorin, it's been a long time since anything, but the rumor was heard of Thrain," Gandalf says. "He still lives; I am sure of it." Thorin protest. Gandalf looks up as the waitress sets his food platter in front of him. "My father came to see you before he went missing. What did you say to him?" Thorin says. "We urged him to march upon Erebor, to rally the seven armies of the dwarves, to destroy the dragon and take back the Lonely Mountain. And I would say the same to you. Take back your homeland." Gandalf says.
Thorin picks up his mug and drinks contemplatively. "And who's this 'we' you talk about? I only see you." Thorin says. Gandalf smiles and lifts his hat up. On his head sits a badly silver dragon. Her blue eyes are interested in the dwarf. Thorin gape. "You have a dragon with you?!" He whispers yells. Gandalf nods. "She's an old friend. We've traveled together since I found her nearly dead. Her name is Silveria, and I will you be nice to her." As Gandalf says the last words, the baby named Silveria slithers her way dorm from Gandalf's head and onto the table right in front of Thorin.
"Can she talk?" Thorin asks. "I can very much talk, Mr. Oakenshield." Thorin gets surprised by her tone, but when she offers a paw, he takes it even more surprised. "Ah, she seems to like you." Gandalf Chukles as Silveria jumps onto Thorin's hand as he is about to take it away. She sniffs at his clothes before scurrying off back to her mentor. "She's okay," Thorin mumbles, but the ears of the young silver dragon catch it. She chuckled lightly to herself and curled up on Gandalf's shoulder.
The two males continue their conversation. "This is no chance meeting, is it, Gandalf?" Thorin says. "No, it is not. The Lonely Mountain troubles me, Thorin. That dragon has sat there long enough. Sooner or later, darker minds will turn toward Erebor. We ran into some unsavory characters while traveling along the Greenway. They mistook us for vagabonds." Gandalf says, and Silveria gurgles a yes.
"I imagine they regretted that," Thorin says. "One of them was carrying a message," Gandalf says and lays a dirty piece of cloth with a message and a picture of the Lonely Mountain drawn on it on the table and pushes it toward Thorin. As Silveria sees the fabric, she growls softly and lets out a spark of blue fire. "It is Black Speech," Gandalf said. Thorin, who had been reaching forward to take the message, warily pulls his hand away. "Promise of payment." Gandalf ads.
"For what?" Thorin asks. "Your head. Someone wants you dead. Thorin, you can wait no longer. You are the heir to the throne of Durin. Unite the armies of the dwarves. Together you have the might and power to retake Erebor. Summon a meeting of the seven dwarf families. Demand they stand by their oaths." Silveria suddenly says. She's no longer a dragon but a woman. Her hair is as silver as her scales and her eyes blue. She is about an average human height.
Here's Silveria:
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"The seven armies swore that oath to the one who wields the King's Jewel, the Arkenstone! It is the only thing that will unite them, and in case you have forgotten, Smaug stole that jewel." Thorin says as he glares at her. Thorin and Gandalf, Silveria look up as the two shady men from before rising and leave together, looking back over their shoulders at Thorin and Gandalf.
"What if we were to help you to reclaim it?" Gandalf says. "How? The Arkenstone lies half a world away, buried beneath the feet of a fire-breathing dragon." Thorin says. "Yes, it does, which is why we are going to need a burglar," Gandalf says, a glint in his blue eyes. Silveria smiles and transforms back to her dragon.
————————— Short I know, and I'm sorry. So this will be a bit off a cliffhanger, maybe. I'll see. I'll begin the next chapter shortly.
