𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

Lost my way twice | Thorin

This oneshot is an exception to this book, as it focuses on Middle Earth, but I came up with the idea and needed to write it and share it with you.

"The company must be waiting for me," Thorin thought as he hurried along on his pony through a copse with an angry expression, as he remembered that Dáin would not help them this time.

Once he reached what seemed like an entrance, he began to see strange houses that he had never seen in his life, all underground, and little people with humble and country clothes who looked at him even more strangely when they noticed his presence, distracting them from their chores. In Thorin's ears came whispers from those little beings, even smaller than him, who spoke among themselves; others ran or got into their houses, and that bothered him. He didn't like that they whispered about him or that they took him for a crazy person or a guy with bad intentions.

His confusion and annoyance began to show on his face.

"I hope Gandalf knows what he's doing, because I wouldn't want to walk out of here empty-handed," he said in a sharp, cold, annoyed tone of voice.

He took out from among his clothes a map that the magician had given him, to avoid getting lost in the labyrinth of houses and paths that were there.

"The house across the river, at the very top..." he said to himself thoughtfully, remembering Gandalf's words as he looked at the map. His brow furrowed even more; the map was not clear at all. He looked ahead and saw the enormity of the place; all the houses were the same, the only difference was the color of their door, and there were several just across the river.

"Very helpful..." he muttered, pulling the pony's reins to follow the path as he looked at the map with a face full of confusion.

*****

Once he crossed the river over a small stone bridge, he decided to follow a small path that led to one of the houses. Here we go with the first door, a light blue one.

"Let's see if this is that hobbit's house," he said to himself, knocking on the door three times forcefully. He had to wait a few seconds, and then, the door began to open. It revealed the aged and fine hands of what looked like a hobbit lady who cautiously poked her head out.

"Who are you, handsome man?" she asked in her granny voice.

Thorin returned to show his face full of confusion once again when he met the small old hobbit.

"My name is Thorin Oakenshield," he replied. "Is your husband or son thinking of going on some adventure led by a certain wizard named Gandalf?"

The lady opened her eyes upon hearing those words, focusing only on one.

"An adventure? No, no, no, not at all, we don't like adventures here, but Tuk ones do," she commented hastily. That word, adventure, she didn't like at all.

"You'd better go look for some around there, there are some nearby. It's just me living here, boy, my husband died a long time ago, and my son left home a few months ago, so you'd better look somewhere else. Here, some cookies for the road. They're butter and apple ones, you'll like them."

She, with her old hands, took a tenderly decorated cookie box from a table, and handed it to him without much more to say, closing the door immediately in Thorin's face, getting it to almost hit him, leaving the dwarf speechless. Thorin looked at the box of cookies and opened it, seeing the various shapes they came in. He took one, tasted it, and then ate it, putting the box in his robes. Then he remembered again that he was still lost, looking at the door again.

He frowned, more annoyed than before, and decided to continue on his way. He had no time to waste and it was the only thing he was doing.

The dwarf went up a little more through that place, along paths that climbed a small hill full of the same types of houses that were there, hearing crickets everywhere and seeing small fireflies that fluttered from here to there. Thorin looked at the map and was just as lost as he was before.

He went up one path and saw that there was no way out once he reached the end, so, beginning to despair, he angrily went down again and continued walking on another path. After a while, his eyes fell on a house with a red door. It was a silent house; the lanterns hanging above the door were unlit, but the light inside was on, which meant someone was inside. However, there was no sign of life, and considering that the company would have to be inside, he being late, he was surprised, because the dwarfs were anything but silent.

Nevertheless, he decided to knock on the door. Three times he rang, forcefully again, and this time the one who peeked out was a young girl with curly brown hair and pale skin.

"Good evening sir, how can I help you?" she asked with some curiosity, seeing a man with a beard and disheveled hair, along with royal clothes, something that was not common in those parts.

"Good evening," he replied. "I am looking for a hobbit who, I have been told by a wizard named Gandalf, is willing to go on an adventure. I am a bit lost, and your help will be greatly appreciated."

"Uhmm, I don't know that hobbit you're talking about, but if you're lost you can come into my house," she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "I wouldn't mind having company tonight. The truth is, the nights are long if I spend them alone..."

Thorin then opened his eyes to see that the young woman was approaching him with intentions that he didn't want to know, although he sensed.

"If you don't know anyone who can help me then I'd better go, I'm wasting my time," he commented, moving away from those hands that were trying to grab him, and from those lips that were getting dangerously close to his own, leaving the young hobbit alone and with her eyes fixed on the dwarf, getting frustrated when she saw how he slipped out of her hands.

"And how about tomorrow? When you have found that hobbit," she asked loudly, but she received no answer.

Thorin was muttering profanity under his breath, pulling the pony. He was tired of calling the wrong places, wasting time. He kept walking, looking at the damn map that more than helping him, was losing him even more.

He looked up and, then, he could see a more remote house that was located a little higher; stairs led up to a large green door. There was something on that door, a blue rune that glowed brightly.

"Clearly that hobbit has to be there. How have I not seen it before?" he wondered, leaving the pony outside, opening the small door of the fence, ignoring the sign it had, and going up the stairs.

Once he got to the door, he could see that the lights inside were on, and that a great racket typical of a party could be heard on the other side. He decided to knock forcefully three times, and suddenly all the commotion ceased. After a few seconds, a trail of light escaped from inside the house after seeing how that big green door opened. His blue eyes, which had been looking out the window to see what the hell was going on in there, shifted away from it as he gazed at a familiar figure behind the door.

"Gandalf!" he exclaimed.