Nature's Child

Chapter 1: Curious Neighbors

I hum softly to myself, squatting down behind some of my hedges in my front garden, tending to a plot of herbs. I pause as a lock of golden blonde hair falls in front of my face, and blow a puff of air at it, to move it to the side. As I continue to gather some herbs, and pull weeds from the plot, voices from across the path catch my attention. I tilt my head a little, recognizing the voice of my neighbor, and fourth cousin two times removed, Bilbo Baggins.
"Good morning," he says.
"What do you mean?" An elderly, yet familiar voice, replies, "Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning, whether I want it or not?" He pauses, though briefly, "Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning? Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?"
There's a brief pause, and I slowly, quietly sit back on my haunches, peering through gaps in the hedging at my neighbor and his guest.
"All of them at once, I suppose?" Bilbo replies, confused.
The man, in a long gray cloak and a tall, pointed, gray hat, has his back turned to me, looking at Bilbo. He's also holding a tall, wooden staff of what looks a bit like twisted roots.
'A Wizard?' I wonder, 'Why would a wizard be in the Shire?'
Bilbo looks up at the man, sitting on a bench in his front garden, simply bewildered. He places his pipe back in his mouth, and takes a small puff. "I'm sorry," he says, "can I help you?"
"That remains to be seen," the wizard says, "I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure,"
Bilbo's pipe drops from his mouth. He pauses "An-An adventure?" He says, then chuckles in disbelief, "Now I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner!" As he speaks, Bilbo gets up from the bench, and checks his mailbox. He grabs some letters and envelopes and sorts through them. After sparing Gandalf a brief glance, he turns to leave. "Good morning," he says, half turning to look back at the wizard.
The man huffs. "To think that I should have lived to be 'good-morning'ed by Belladonna Took's son," he calls after Bilbo, indignantly, "as if I were selling buttons at the door,"
I gasp a little. I start to rise up a little in my squat, peering over the top of my hedging.
Bilbo whips around, seemingly startled at the mention of his mother. "Beg your pardon?" He mutters.
The man sighs. "You've changed," he says, "and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins,"
Bilbo pauses. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" He asks, tilting his head.
The man shuffles his feet a little. "Well, you know my name, although you don't remember I belong to it," he says, "I'm Gandalf and Gandalf means...me!"
I gasp again, and smile. I feel my ears perk up.
A look of recognition flashes across Bilbo's face. His lips curl into a smile. "Not Gandalf, the wandering wizard, who made such excellent fireworks!" He says, laughing a little, "Old Took used to have them on Mid-Summer's Eve!" He pauses, taking a pull from his pipe, "I had no idea you were still in business,"
"And where else should I be?" Gandalf says, almost accusingly.
"Well..." Bilbo's voice awkwardly trails off.
Gandalf sighs softly. "Well," he says, "I'm pleased to find you remember something about me, even if it's only my fireworks," he starts to turn away, "Well then, that's decided. It will be very good for you and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others,"
I giggle a little, watching as Bilbo grows pale with shock.
He retreats further towards Bag End. "Inform the who?" He asks, nervously, "What? No, no, no! We do not want any adventures here, thank you! Not today! I suggest you try somewhere over the hill or across the water! Good morning!" In frustration, Bilbo storms into his home.
I watch the door swing closed, and listen as the bolt is put in place. I sigh. 'I'd give anything to be approached with an adventure,' I think, 'or anything different from...this,'. I start to turn back to my herb garden, when I hear a scratching noise. I turn back toward Bilbo's house, and tilt my head a little.
The noise is Gandalf, drawing something onto Bilbo's door with the end of his staff.
    "Huh?" I mutter, furrowing my eyebrows.
    Bilbo appears in one of his window, peering out, and Gandalf quickly leans toward the window and peers back at him.
He stays for a moment, and then turns back down the path, walking away from Bag End. As he reaches the road between mine and Bilbo's house, he looks toward me, and gives a mischievous smile.
I jump a little, watching the man approach.
"Hello, Ella," he says, "Just as curious as ever, eh? Or...what is it that you're normally called? Eleanor...could be split into three names: Ella, Nora, or Lenore..."
I nod a little. "Nora..." I mutter, "Everyone calls me Nora, sir,"
He nods, an odd twinkle in his eye. "Those...berries in your backyard should be just about ripe, eh?" He says, "would make wonderful preserves...and preserves and biscuits would make a wonderful thing to bring to a party or dinner, wouldn't you think?" He tilts his head a little.
I ponder this, and nod. "It would indeed, sir," I say, smiling, "funny you should say, though...that's currently what's cooking in my kitchen!"
He smiles. "Thought as much," he says, "Well...I don't doubt I'll be seeing you soon, dear," he then nods, and starts down the road toward the market.
I chuckle a little. "Wonder what he could have meant..." I mutter, and look back at Bilbo's door, the rune fading away, though the etching is still visible.
---
I tie a cotton scarf around my hair and hang up my apron in my kitchen. I grab the last few jars of preserves, and put them in the basket I had prepared. "That should be all of them..." I mutter, "and the biscuits...and some extra napkins...and some cutlery...maybe I should change my dress? Oh, it's just Bilbo, I don't think he'd care..." I drape a piece of cotton fabric over the basket, and start toward the front hall of my home. I peer out a window, and see someone standing at Bilbo's door. 'He's not a hobbit, that's for sure,' I think, inspecting the figure, 'he's wearing boots!'
The man, or most likely dwarf, is wearing a traveling cloak and rough looking clothes. From here, I can see that he is bald, though has a fair amount of facial hair, and what seems to be some kind of markings across the top of his head. He glances around as he waits at the door, and over his shoulder at my house.
I gasp a little, holding my basket closer to me, and take a step away from the window.
After a bit longer, Bilbo opens his door.
The dwarf turns back to the door, and greets Bilbo with a slight bow.
Even from here, without being able to hear anything, I can see Bilbo is caught off guard, and is very much confused.
The dwarf steps inside Bag End, seemingly without invitation.
I watch the door close, and take a deep breath. 'Maybe I shouldn't...he'll have his hands full enough...' I think. I then take another deep breath, and start to open my door. I take a deep breath, hold it, and squeeze my eyes shut as I take the first step out of the door, greeted by the cool evening air. I close my door behind me, and cross my garden as I open my eyes again. I reach my garden gate just as another dwarf turns to Bilbo's house, starting up the path.
He must have seen me out of the corner of his eye, and looked at me. "Oh! Hello," he nods to me, giving a kind smile. He's much older looking, with a long, snow-white beard that splits and curls at the end, in opposite directions, and equally white hair.
I nod back. "Evening..." I mutter, gripping onto my basket.
He nods, and continues to Bilbo's door.
I hesitantly follow him.
He glances over his shoulder at me. "Ah, it seems like we're heading the same way," he says, chuckling a little.
I smile softly, and nod.
The dwarf smiles back, and then rings the doorbell. He straightens his cloak as we wait for Bilbo to answer.
Bilbo opens the door, and looks more confused and distraught than he had earlier.
The dwarf in front of me gives a ginger bow. "Balin," he says, "at your service,"
Bilbo sighs softly, and gives me a glance, then looks a little surprised. "Good evening," he says, looking back at Balin.
"Yes, yes, it is," he says, looking up, and starts to enter the home, "Though, I think it might rain later. Am I late?"
"Late for what?" Bilbo asks, then stops me as I start to enter as well.
Balin spots the other Dwarf in the hallway, trying to get more biscuits from a jar. "Oh! Evening brother!" He chuckles.
The dwarf puts the jar down with a smile. "By my beard," he says, "you are shorter and wider than last we met,"
The two brothers approach each other, and grip each other's shoulders.
"Wider, not shorter," Balin replies, "But sharp enough for the both of us,"
The two share a chuckle, and, as causal and simple as a hug, they swiftly head-butt each other.
Bilbo and I watch, confused.
We look at each other.
"Nora?" Bilbo mutters, "what are you doing here?"
I hold up the basket, and give a faint smile. "F-fresh made preserves..." I mutter, "and biscuits. Thought...it may help?"
He sighs. "Nora..." he mutters, "...I thank you for the biscuits, and the preserves, but..."
We both look as we hear hearty laughter from the two dwarves.
"And a friendly face may give some relief from this...unexpected company?" I mutter, smiling softly at Bilbo.
He sighs. "Fine," he says, "fine, take the basket to the kitchen..."
I nod, and enter the house, taking a hallway that'll avoid the dwarves, so I can quickly plate the preserves and biscuits. 'I'll at least make them presentable...' I think, reaching the kitchen and placing the basket down. I start to unpack my basket, when I hear someone clear their throat softly at the door. I jump a little and look up.
The first dwarf to arrive, who's name I haven't learned yet, is standing in the doorway. There's a faint look of astonishment on his face. "And who might you be, lass?" He asks. His voice is rough, but his tone is curious.
I feel myself freeze, my heart beating as if it wants to escape my chest, my stomach twisting itself into knots. I take a deep breath, and try to speak. "E-el-...El–Elan-..." I stammer. I take another deep breath, lowering my head, and grip my dress. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling myself start to shake uncontrollably.
Someone steps toward me, and gently tilts my chin up. "Here...you can write, can't you?" The dwarf says, extending a hand, his palm facing up.
I stare at him, the fear starting to subside. I look at his hand, and nod. I gently grab it, and start to write on it with my finger.
E-l-e-a-n-o-r T-o-o-k
He pauses. "Eleanor?" He asks.
I nod, and give a polite smile.
He nods, and gently grabs my hand. "Dwalin," he says, bowing a little, lifting my hand somewhat toward his forehead, "at your service,"
I give a small, somewhat awkward courtesy, giggling a little.
"Where'd you get to, Brother?" Balin calls out, and then he enters the kitchen as well. He gives me a polite smile. "Ah, you've met our other guest! I had wondered where you'd gotten to," his eyes flick to the basket behind me. "May I ask...what's in there?" He asks, stepping forward.
Dwalin drops my hand before his brother can see, and we turn to the table as well.
"Preserves," Bilbo answers for me, "she makes preserves from berries that grow in her back garden. She gives me a sample of each batch and sells the rest at market,"
I nod a little. "Th-they're..." I mutter, "...they're b-blueberry...raspberry, elderberry, strawberry...and a blend of all..." I take out all of the jars of the preserves, and then the plate of biscuits. "I also made b-biscuits..."
Balin nods. "Much appreciated, I'm sure," he says, "Won't you join my brother and I? We were finding a proper feast for such an occasion,"
I smile a little and nod. I glance at Bilbo, and shrug a little as I follow the brothers to the pantry.
He does follow us, and I find a corner to stand in, watching the brothers rifle through the food and help themselves to ale.
Balin offers me a cup, but I politely refuse.
"It's not that I don't like visitors," Bilbo says, hoping to catch the dwarves' attention, "I like visitors as much as the next hobbit. But I do like to know them before they come visiting,"
The dwarves continue to riffle through the pantry, ignoring their host.
Dwalin offers me a small glass of red wine.
I chuckle a little, and nod, accepting the drink this time. I look at Bilbo as I take a small sip.
Bilbo sighs, and sheepishly presses on. "The thing is," he says, "I don't know either of you. Not in the slightest. I don't mean to be blunt, but I had to speak my mind. I'm sorry,"
Dwalin and Balin pause and look at Bilbo.
Taking another sip of my drink, I also look at Bilbo.
"Apology accepted," Balin says.
Bilbo nods, satisfied.
I watch as Balin hands a tankard of ale to his brother. "Now, fill it up, brother," he says, "don't stint!"
From the hallway, the doorbell rings once again.
Bilbo slowly turns around, in awe with shock. He swiftly walks toward his front door.
I quietly walk from my place in the pantry, and peek around the corner, watching as Bilbo opens the door.
He finds two young dwarves standing before him.
One is blonde, with some longer farcical hair, while the other has dark hair, and more or less just scruff as opposed to proper facial hair. The blonde one is dressed more in browns, while the dark haired one is dressed more in blues and blacks.
Bilbo groans.
"Fili," the blonde one says.
"And Kili," the dark haired one says.
"At your service," they say together, both giving a courteous bow.
"You must be Mr. Boggins!" Kili says.
"Nope, you can't come in," Bilbo says, almost frantically, "you've come to the wrong house," He tries to close the door, but Kili manages to stop it with his foot.
"Has it been cancelled?" Kili asks.
"No one told us!" Fili says.
"Cancelled?" Bilbo says, "No, nothing's been cancelled!"
"That's a relief!" Kili says.
The dwarves push their way in and begin to unload their plethora of weapons onto Bilbo.
"Careful with these," Fili says, "We just had them sharpened,"
Kili looks around, admiring the architecture of the hallway. "It's nice, this place," he asks, "Did you do it yourself?"
"No," Bilbo says, "it's been in the family for years,"
Kili begins to scrape the mud off his boots on the edge of a nearby chest.
"That's my mother's glory box," Bilbo says, starting to panic a little, "could you please not do that!"
Dwalin, gently nudging past me, enters the hallway and beckons Fili and Kili forward. "Fili, Kili," he says, "come on, give us a hand!"
"Mr. Dwalin!" Kili says, and then looks at me, confused. He smiles politely, and gives a slight bow.
I nod back, sipping my wine.
The two brothers follow Dwalin down the hall and into the dining room.
Bilbo begins to follow behind them, seemingly at a loss for words. He looks at me. "How...there...what...?" He mutters, almost as if he wants to accuse me of inviting them in, but knowing I have nothing to do with this.
I chuckle a little.
"Let's shove this in the hallway," Dwalin says, "otherwise we'll never get everyone in,"
"Everyone?" Bilbo asks, incredulously, "How many more are there?!"
That's when the doorbell rings again!
Enraged, Bilbo quickly walks to the door. Along the way, he must have dumped the swords and equipment he is carrying onto the ground, since I hear a loud clatter in the hall.
    I turn to follow him, when I hear someone approach me.
    "Pardon me," Fili says to me, "but...do you also live here?"
    I turn to the young dwarf, and shake my head. "I...I live across the road..." I mutter, "I'm Bilbo's cousin..."
    He nods a little, and we both look toward the front hall as we hear Bilbo rambling in quite an angry way.
"No!" He says, "There's nobody home! Go away and bother somebody else! There's far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is. If this is some clotterd's idea of a joke, I can only say that it is in very poor taste,"
I chuckle a little. "I actually rather enjoy dwarves..." I mutter, "...though...you lot are the first I've met..."
Fili chuckles, and turns, "Oh, table, coming through," he gently grabs my waist, and lifts me, moving me to the side a little. "Pardon," he mutters.
I tensed up, feeling my face heat up. I watch as he helps Kili and Dwalin move a table into the hall, making what seems like a long banquet table. I look around as I notice many more Dwarves are now present, all bustling around, grabbing food from the pantry to the table, setting chairs up.
Dwalin walks up to me, holding a chair, and setting it next to the table. "Have a seat, lass," he says.
I nod, sitting in the chair he had gotten. I look around, and sip my wine nervously.
---
All the dwarves are now seated around Bilbo's dining room table, extended by a few more tables. They are a fair bit messy about preparing and eating their food.
I've had time to learn most of their names, as I am fairly quick with learning names: Balin and Dwalin, Fili and Kili, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Oin, Gloin, and Dori, Nori, and Ori. I've also heard talk that we're still waiting for one last dwarf.
Gandalf sits in the middle of the chaos, calm and collected. He looks at me and smiles, giving a faint wink.
I smile back. I'm seated between Balin and Dwalin, and across from Fili and Kili. I have a small plate of food in front of myself, and I'm picking at it with much less gusto than the other guests.
Bofur sits at the end of the table, nearer to Gandalf, and he grabs a bun of bread from out of a basket near him. "Bombur!" He calls out, "Catch!" He throws the bread across the table, towards Bombur, on the opposite end of the table.
Bombur, his hands full of other food, grease staining his beard, catches the bread in his mouth.
The other dwarves applaud uproariously.
I chuckle a little, and applaud as well.
"Who made these jams?" Ori asks.
"And the biscuits with them?" Dori, sitting near him, says, "They're both very good!"
"That'd be Miss Took here," Balin says, gesturing to me.
"Grows the berries herself," Dwalin says, "sells the jams at market, after giving her cousin a cut of the product, that is,"
The dwarves chuckles, making my cheeks heat up a little.
I smile a little, eating my own biscuit, looking down at my plate.
"Awe, you've embarrassed her!" Fili jokes.
"Er...didn't mean no harm," Dori says, almost like he's apologizing.
I look up and shake my head a little. "It's okay," I say, my voice shaking a little, "I j-just...haven't shared them with a g-group this big before..." I smile a little.
He nods a little. "Well you've got a talent!" He says, raising his glass.
I chuckle, and nod back. It was then that I had noticed that Gandalf wasn't where he was sitting, and I turned my head a little, seeing if I could hear him at all.
Bilbo's voice rings out from the hallway.
"...all but destroyed the plumbing!" He says, sounding very distressed and frustrated, "I don't understand what they're doing in my house!"
I lean over to Dwalin. "Excuse me..." I mutter before standing. I go over to the doorway, peeking into the hallway, watching Bilbo talking to Gandalf. I tilt my head a little.
Ori approaches the pair, tapping Bilbo on the shoulder. "Sorry, I hate to interrupt," he says, "but where would you like me to put my plate?"
Fili enters the hallway. "Here you go, Ori," he says, "give it to me." Fili takes the plate, quickly turning and throwing it to Kili, standing at the doorway.
Kili throws the dish into the kitchen, where Bifur stands beside the sink, catching all of the plates and putting them neatly into the sink.
I stand with Bilbo as we watch the dish throwing cycle continue.
"Excuse me," Bilbo says, "that's my mother's West Farthing crockery, it's over a hundred years old!"
The dwarves ignore him, and continue to throw the plates about.
Bilbo and I hear beating and scraping from the dining room. We glance at each other and go to investigate.
The rest of the dwarves sit at the table, rhythmically drumming on the table with their utensils.
"Could you please not do that?" Bilbo says, a slight tone of panic in his voice, "You'll blunt them!"
"You hear that, lads?" Bofur says, "He says we'll blunt the knives,"
As Fili and Kili continue to throw the dishes around, they begin singing to the beat of the banging utensils, the other dwarves joining in as well.
"Blunt the knives, bend the forks!
Smash the bottles and burn the corks!
Smash the bottles and crack the plates!
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"
I giggle a little, watching, bobbing my head a little to the tune, which gains me a bit of a cross look from Bilbo. I giggle and pull a funny face at him.
He rolls his eyes and sighs a little.
The dwarves continue to throw the dishes from the dining room, to the hallway, to the kitchen and back to the dining room, singing all the while.
"Cut the cloth, tread on fat!
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!
Pour the milk on the pantry floor,
splash the wine on every door!
Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl,
pound them up with a thumping pole!
When you're finished, if they are whole,
send them down the hall to roll!"
As the singing continues Bilbo starts rushing around the house, frantic and panicked.
I watch in amazement, and clap a little to the beat of the song, shuffling my feet a little in a bit of a jig.
Fili looks at me, and smiles, imitating my movements a little, making me giggle a little.
The song concludes with a final, "That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"
Bilbo sprints into the dining room.
Gandalf pulls me toward the table a little, and we and the dwarves are circled around the table, laughing.
I gasp a little in amazement, looking at the table.
All of the dishes are stacked neatly on the table, sparkly clean.
Bilbo sighs in relief.
Suddenly, there is a loud knock at the front door.
Everyone goes quiet.
"He is here," Gandalf says, quietly. He swiftly moves to the front hall.
Bilbo and I look at each other, and follow him.
We watch the wizard open the door. There, standing on the doorstep, is a noble looking dwarf.
He has long, dark hair with some streaks of grey, and a shorter kept beard. His piercing eyes consider Gandalf, almost a little annoyed but otherwise not giving anything away. "Gandalf," he says, his voice deep and rich, "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door,"
Gandalf shuts the door behind the new dwarf as he enters.
All of the other dwarves have gathered behind me and Bilbo, some muttering greetings, but most of them bowing a little at the newcomer.
Bilbo pushes through the crowd, entering the hall. "Mark?" He says, "There's no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!"
"There is a mark," Gandalf says, "I put it there myself. I do believe Miss Took witnessed me do so," he looks at me.
I tense up a little, and nod.
Bilbo glances at me, a little astonished, before his attention is yet again drawn to Gandalf.
"Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf says, "allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield,"
Thorin steps towards Bilbo, a stark look of judgement in his eyes. "So, this is the hobbit," he says, "Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"
"Pardon me?" Bilbo mutters.
"Axe or sword?" Thorin asks, "What is your weapon of choice?"
"Well, I do have some skill at Conkers, if you must know," he says, feigning confidence in himself, "but I fail to see why that's relevant,"
I press my lips together a little, feeling a little embarrassed for my cousin.
"Thought as much," Thorin says, glancing at Gandalf, "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar,"
The dwarves behind me laugh at Thorin's jest.
He gives them a warm smile and walks toward us, but pauses in front of me. He looks down at me, his look less judgmental than when he was looking at Bilbo. "What about her?" He asks, looking over his shoulder at Gandalf.
Gandalf just looks at me, and gestures a little.
I pause, and perk up a little, a little squeak leaving my throat. "Eleanor Took," I say, quietly, "I live across the road. I just-"
"Had approached me, asking about a position in the company," Gandalf finishes for me, "She could be a good addition. A Woman of the Shire is very good with cooking, mending, tending to wounds. And, weren't you telling me, Nora, that you have some skill with a bow?" He looks at me, taking out his pipe, and almost absentmindedly packing it with dried leaves. He looks at me, raising an eyebrow a little.
I pause, a little surprised. I slowly nod, wondering what he's playing at, hope rising in my chest a little at the prospects of a proper adventure.
Thorin narrows his eyes at me.
"And, furthermore, female hobbits are surprisingly lighter on their feet than the males," Gandalf says, "she, also, may not be a burglar, but she'll do in a pinch, if Master Baggins falls through, wouldn't you think?"
Thorin looks at him. "I'm sensing an ulterior motive, Gandalf," he says, "Who is she?"
Gandalf sighs. "Bilbo, Nora, the rest of you..." he says, "I wish to speak with our leader...alone,"
We all look at each other, and nod.
Fili pulls me back into the dining room with the other dwarves, but I pull out of his grip at the doorway.
I face away from the doorway, my back against the wall, and listen to the hushed conversation. 'If it's about me, I have a right to know,' I think, tilting my head a little.
"What is she, Gandalf?" Thorin demands.
Gandalf sighs. "She's...she's a Floraborn," he says, "the first I've seen in...a few hundred years,"
There's a brief silence.
I furrow my eyebrows, and look down at my hands, at the faint, vine-like markings around my hands and arms. I raise my hands to my temples, tracing over the similar marks branching off from my eyes.
"Do you know about the Floraborns?" Gandalf asks.
"I have heard of them..." Thorin mutters, "...but never of a Hobbit Floraborn...how did this happen?"
"I'm not sure," Gandalf says, "I'm not sure if she's even aware of it,"
"And you wish to bring her with us?" Thorin asks, "What is she capable of?"
"Time will tell," Gandalf says, "Which is why I wish to bring her with us. I believe, with my guidance, she can be a very formidable ally, along with her other uses as a Woman of the Shire,"
There's another silence.
I turn my head a little.
"I will allow it," Thorin says, "but she's your responsibility. If her abilities are more than even you can reckon with..."
"I doubt that," he says, "but...I understand, Thorin. And...thank you,"
There's another silence, and Thorin enters the dining room. He pauses, and looks at me. He raises an eyebrow slightly, and then glances behind himself.
Gandalf follows after him, and sees me as well. He pauses. "Nora..." he says, "...how much did you hear?"
"How long have you known?" I ask him.
He pauses, and glances at the rest of the party. He sighs. "So you do know..." he mutters, "...I knew ever since I met you, when you were but an infant. How much do you know, of what you are?"
I shake my head a little. "I always knew I was...different," I say, "but never had a name for it. No one knew what the markings meant,"
He nods a little, and leans down, so he's nearly eye level with me. "Nora, I promise, I will tell you all I know," he says, "but, for now, I need you go to back to your home and pack your things,"
"Shouldn't she stay for the discussion of what the journey is?" Thorin says, "So she knows what she's walking into?"
I look at Thorin, and then back at Gandalf.
He sighs softly, and nods. He leads me into the dining room, and I take my seat again.
Balin glances at me, eyebrows furrowed. He then looks at Thorin, who now sits at the head of the table, eating. "What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" He asks Thorin, "Did they all come?"
"Aye," Thorin replies, "Envoys from all seven kingdoms."
The dwarves murmur their joy.
"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" Dwalin asks, "Is Dain with us?"
Thorin pauses, seemingly a little angry. "They will not come," he says.
The other dwarves murmur in disappointment.
"They say this quest is ours, and ours alone," he says.
Further disappointed murmurs follow his statement.
"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo asks, standing at the doorway. He glances at me, unsure.
Gandalf looks over his shoulder at him. "Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light," he says, reaching into one of his pockets.
Bilbo nods, leaving briefly, and brings a candle to the table, where Gandalf has spread out a map which he has produced from his pocket.
"Far to the East," Gandalf says, gesturing for me to come closer, "over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak."
I stand up and walk over to Gandalf, looking at the map on the table.
"The Lonely Mountain." Bilbo reads, and I mouth the words at the same time.
"Aye," Gloin says, "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," Oin says, "When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end."
Hearing the word "beast", Bilbo and I look up, and then at each other.
I tilt my head a little.
"Uh, What beast?" Bilbo asks, concerned.
"Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible," Bofur says, matter-of-factly, "chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meathooks, extremely fond of precious metals–"
"Yes, I know what a dragon is." Bilbo says.
"I'm not afraid!" Ori says, standing up, "I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of the Dwarvish iron right up his jacksie,"
Several dwarves start to shout, both for the young dwarf to sit and in agreement with his statement.
"Sit down!" Dori says to him, pulling him back down.
"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us," Balin says, quieting the others, "But we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest,"
The dwarves start objecting, saying things like, "Hey, who are you calling dim?" "Watch it!", and "No!"
I stifle laughter a little, and catch Gandalf glancing at me, also smiling a little.
"What did he say?" Oin says, holding a horn to his ear.
"We may be few in number," Fili says, standing, "but we're fighters, all of us, to the last dwarf!"
"And you forget, we have a wizard in our company," Kili says, standing with his brother, "Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time,"
"Oh, well, now," Gandalf says, nervously, "uh, I-I-I wouldn't say that, I–"
"How many, then?" Dori asks.
"Uh, what?" Gandalf says.
"Well, how many dragons have you killed?" Dori repeats, "Go on, give us a number!"
"Hm..." Gandalf embarrassedly starts coughing on his pipe smoke.
I pat his back a little bit.
The dwarves jump to their feet, arguing about the supposed number of dragons Gandalf has killed.
Thorin, annoyed, jumps up in anger and bellows, silencing the rest. "Shazara!"
Silence!
I pause, wondering how I knew what he said, even if I have never heard the Dwarf language before.
"If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too?" He says, "Rumours 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. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!"
To arms! To arms!
All the dwarves cheer, and I stare at Thorin a fair bit amazed at how easily being a leader comes to him.
He glances at me, and I look away, feeling myself start to blush.
"You forget," Balin says, "the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain."
"That," Gandalf says, "my dear Balin, is not entirely true." Twiddling his fingers, Gandalf produces a dwarven key, ornately wrought.
Thorin looks at it in wonder. "How did you come by this?" He mutters.
"It was given to me by your father," Gandalf says, "by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now." Gandalf hands the key to Thorin as everyone looks on in wonder.
"If there is a key," Fili says, "there must be a door."
Gandalf points at runes on his map with his pipe. "These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls," he says.
"There's another way in!" Kili says.
"Well, if we can find it," Gandalf says, "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 are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."
"That's why we need a burglar." Ori says, looking at Bilbo.
"Hm, A good one, too," Bilbo says, looking at the map, "An expert, I'd imagine."
"And are you?" Gloin asks.
"Am I what?" Bilbo asks, looking up.
"He said he's an expert!" Oin says, "Hey hey!"
Several dwarves laugh, and I chuckle a little.
Bilbo stares a bit in disbelief. "M-Me?" He says, "No, no, no, no, no. I'm not a burglar; I've never stolen anything in my life!"
"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins," Balin says, "He's hardly burglar material."
Bilbo nods in agreement.
"Aye," Dwalin says, agreeing with his brother, "the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves." He glances at me.
I look away from him.
Bilbo continues nodding in agreement.
The dwarves begin arguing about whether bringing Bilbo, or me, is a good idea.
Gandalf, growing angry, rises to his full height and casts darkness over the group. "Enough!" He bellows in a powerful, magically magnified and altered voice, "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is." Slowly he goes back to his normal self as he sits down.
We all stare at him, terrified.
Gandalf clears his throat slightly, and looks at me somewhat apologetically. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet," he says, "In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of 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, including himself. You must trust me on this."
The dwarves all look at each other, muttering.
"Very well," Thorin says, glancing at me, "We will do it your way,"
Bilbo stares in disbelief. "No, no, no," he says
"Give him the contract," Thorin says to Balin.
"Please," Bilbo says, starting to panic a little. He glances at me, pleadingly.
"Alright, we're off!" Bofur says, excitedly.
Balin stands up and hands Bilbo a long contract. "It's just the usual summary," He says, "of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, and so forth."
"Funeral arrangements?" Bilbo says.
As Bilbo steps back a few feet to read the contract, Thorin leans toward Gandalf and whispers to him.
My ear twitches a little as I try my best not to look like I'm listening to them
"I cannot guarantee his safety," Thorin says.
"Understood," Gandalf says.
"Nor will I be responsible for his fate," Thorin says.
"Agreed," Gandalf replies.
I furrow my eyebrows, and hear Bilbo read parts of the contract out loud.
"'Terms:'" He reads, "'Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any.' Seems fair. Eh, 'Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations..." he unfolds a small attachment of parchment, "evisceration...incineration?'"
"Oh, aye," Bofur says, "he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye."
I shudder a little, and sip a cup of cocoa I had gotten for myself.
Bilbo looks at him, a little breathless. "Huh,"
"You all right, laddie?" Balin asks.
Bilbo bends over, hands on his knees, looking very much pale. He's taking deep breaths. "Uh, yeah..." he says, "Feel a bit faint."
"Think furnace with wings." Bofur continues.
"Air, I-I-I need air," Bilbo mutters.
"Flash of light," Bofur says, "searing pain, then Poof! you're nothing more than a pile of ash."
I shudder again, and look at my cousin.
Bilbo breathes heavily, trying to compose himself as the others stare at him. He stands up straight, and pauses, as if he's testing if he's recovered. He's still very pale. "Hmmm. Nope," he mutters, then falls on the floor in a faint.
"Bilbo!" I yelp, setting my drink down and quickly getting up to go to him.
"Ah, very helpful, Bofur," I hear Gandalf say.
---
A bit later, I watch from a doorway as Bilbo is sitting on his chair, holding a mug of cocoa I had gotten for him, and talking to Gandalf.
"I'll be alright," he says, "let me just sit quietly for a moment."
"You've been sitting quietly for far too long," Gandalf says, a little peeved, "Tell me; when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you? I remember a young Hobbit who always was running off in search of elves and the woods, who'd stay out late, come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs and fireflies. A young Hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. The world is not in your books and maps; it's out there."
"I can't just go running off into the blue," Bilbo says, "I am a Baggins, of Bag End."
"You are also a Took," he glances at me, "Did you know that your great-great-great-great-uncle, Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse?"
I look at a portrait of Bullroarer Took on Bilbo's wall. 'I have a similar portrait in my home...' I think.
"Yes," Bilbo says.
"Well he could," Gandalf says, and as he tells a story about Bullroarer, Thorin walks up to me.
I look at him, and give a polite smile.
"Are you any...relation to Mr. Baggins?" He asks, "Gandalf said he's a Took...that's your surname,"
I nod. "We're cousins," I say, "Fourth cousins, two times removed,"
He nods. "He's older than you, yes?" He asks.
I chuckle and shake my head. "He wishes," I say, "no, the 'two times removed' is in favor of me. I'm older than him, though smaller in stature, unfortunately,"
He chuckles softly and nods.
"I'm sorry, but you have the wrong Hobbit," Bilbo says to Gandalf, standing off and storming off to his room,"
I sigh. "Shame..." I mutter.
"It appears we have lost our burglar," Balin says, standing behind Thorin and I, "Probably for the best. The odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toy-makers; hardly the stuff of legend."
"There are a few warriors amongst us." Thorin says, turning to him. He glances at me.
"Old warriors." Balin corrects him.
"I will take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills," Thorin says, "For when I called upon them, they came. Loyalty. Honor. A willing heart. I can ask no more than that."
"You don't have to do this," Balin says, "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."
Thorin holds out the key Gandalf gave him. "From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me," He says, "They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin. Not for me."
Balin nods a little. "Then we are with you, laddie," He says, "We will see it done."
---
Later that night, I sat in a chair in Bilbo's living room, Fili and Kili sitting near me, and the rest of the Dwarves gathered in the room as well.
The dwarves are smoking their pipes by the fire. They all begin humming, and soon Thorin begins to sing, looking into the fire.
"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"
   Chills go up my spine as I listen, holding a blanket around myself. I find myself staring into the fire as well.
    The other dwarves start to join in as well, their voices creating a beautiful, deep harmony.
"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"