A Vow of Fire and Ash

Chapter Three

It took the young hobbit twenty minutes to be roused from his frightened slumber after he had been carried to an armchair in the living room by Elbereth. Gandalf had insisted that he carry the unconscious halfling, however the elleth refused, claiming that he was lighter than a sack of potatoes. The hobbit awoke with the start, looked around him and was rather relieved to find himself in his own armchair, in his own home. However, that feeling of comfort vanished when his eyes met with the stern ones of the Grey Wizard. Before the wizard had a chance to take the ear off Bilbo, Elbereth entered, carrying two mugs of piping hot tea. A soft smile was on her face as she presented the beverage to the hobbit.

"You gave us quite a fright, Bilbo," she chuckled as she sat down in a chair beside the hobbit. "I hope you did not hit your head too hard."

Bilbo accepted the drink warily and nodded. "I'll be alright...just let me sit quietly for a moment."

"You've been sitting quietly for far too long." Gandalf spoke angrily as he smoked from his pipe. Smoke escaped his mouth with every word and dissipated as quickly as it appeared. "Tell me, when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you? I remember a young hobbit who was always running off in search of elves in the woods. He'd stay out late, come home after dark trailing mud, twigs, and fireflies. A young hobbit, who would have loved nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire."

Gandalf pointed out of the windows of the hobbit hole and into the night to further prove his point. The elf could imagine a young hobbit boy running off in search of her kin and wishing to go on an adventure. She supposed that's what all children and adults alike truly wished for, though they wouldn't dare admit it. The innocence of children always amazed her. She found it rather sad that people of all races would abandon that wonder the moment they turned of age. Elbereth hoped they would be able to ignite that spark within Bilbo once more.

"The world is not in your books and maps. It's out there."

The hobbit seemed to consider this, but quickly banished the thought from his head.

"I can't just go running off into of the blue. I am a Baggins..." the hobbit whimpered momentarily as he raised his finger in defiance. "...of Bag End."

"You are also a Took!"

Bilbo leaned back in his chair exasperated, and gave a look to the elf who only shrugged her shoulders.

"Did you know that your great-great-great-great uncle, Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse?"

"Yes..."

"Well, he could! In the Battle of the Greenfields, he charged the goblin ranks. He swung his club so hard; it knocked the Goblin King's head clean off, and it sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole, and thus, the battle was won." Gandalf the paused. "And invented the game of golf at the same time."

Elbereth chuckled at this revelation. Who knew hobbits had such a fiery spirit?

Bilbo smiled to himself as he looked down towards his feet. "I do believe you made that up."

"Well, all good stories deserve embellishment." The wizard replied as he sat down next to the hobbit. "You'll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you get back."

"Can you promise that I will come back?"

Gandalf was just about to speak, when a soft, melancholic voice beat him to it.

"No," Elbereth answered, her eyes staring off into the fire. Her gaze was a mix of wistful emotions as she let out a deep sigh. "And if you do, you will not be the same."

"Are you speaking from experience?" Bilbo asked.

The elleth nodded, her gaze fixated on the crackling logs in the blazing fire.

The hobbit seemed to consider this before answering.

"That's what I thought." He leaned over and placed his empty mug on a nearby oaken coffee table. "Sorry Gandalf, Elbereth, I can't sign this. You've got the wrong hobbit."

With that Bilbo stood up of his chair and left to retire for the night in his bedroom down the hall. Elbereth turned to the wizard and put her head in her hands.

"He's frightened Mithrandir." She whispered. "I can feel it."

"So were you when you went on your first adventure." Gandalf replied inhaling from his pipe once more.

"Oh, I know I was. Yet I did it regardless of my fears. Although, I am not yet certain if Master Baggins will follow suit."

"Give him time, Elbereth. Hobbits have a way of surprising people."

"I hope you're right Mithrandir, for all our sakes."

Elbereth then stood to retrieve her bed roll from her horse outside. Unknown to her, two icy eyes followed her until she left the threshold of the door.

"It seems as though we have lost our burglar." Balin sighed from opposite the dwarven king. "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 smiled at Balin.
"There are a few warriors among us."

"Old warriors."

"I would take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills." Thorin answered as he stood taller. "For when I called upon them, they answered. Loyalty, honour, a willing heart; I can ask no more than that."

Balin stood and looked up at Thorin with pride shining in his eyes.

"You don't have to do this. You have a choice. You have done honourably by our people. You have built us a new life in the Blue Mountains a life of piece 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." Thorin spoke as he held up the key of Thrór. "They dreamt of a day when the dwarves of Erebor could reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin, not for me."

Balin nodded. "Then we are with you, laddie." He patted Thorin on the shoulder. "We will see it done."

A soft, deep humming filled the hobbit hole as Elbereth walked inside. The dwarves all sat in the living room, smoking pipes of tobacco while creating a haunting melody. The elleth paused against the wall as she listened to the dwarves lament.

Far over the Misty Mountain cold,

To Dungeons deep, and caverns old.

We must away, ere break of day,

To find our long, forgotten gold.

The melody grew softly until all the dwarves were singing softly. The one voice Elbereth could hear the clearest was that of the King Under the Mountain. His eyes were filled with sadness, yet she saw a spark of hope in them. She hoped that his quest would ignite that spark into a blaze.

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.

The song finished just as quickly as it begun. Elbereth felt something trickle down her cheek. She wiped it away and realised that she had been crying. She dabbed her eyes and lay down on her bedroll. Sleep came quickly and the elleth fell into a restless slumber and dreamt of distant lands and the roar of a dragon.