In the Shadow of Mountain Kings

An Adventure Awaits

The dwarves now sat quietly at the dimly lit dining room table, Thorin at the head. Who Thorin was had only truly been made clear as the dwarves had greeted him with bows one by one. He appeared to be their king. Bilbo was in the living room just behind the table, pacing. Firiel stood in the back against the wall, unwilling to sit down to a table with him. She didn't take kindly to people who showed her and her family members such disrespect. Even now she was irritated by the sight of him, eating a stew and biscuits she had made just yesterday.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" Balin asked Thorin, "Did they all come?"

"Aye," Thorin answered him, looking out at his company, "Envoys from all seven kingdoms."

The dwarves all made noises of approval and great delight. Firiel knew what that meant. He had met with ambassadors from the Seven Dwarf Kingdoms. But for what purpose?

"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" Dwalin asked him, "Is Dáin with us?"

Thorin took pause at that moment, looking out again as if to console his men.

"They will not come," he said.

The dwarves began to chatter amongst themselves, all earlier joy seemingly lost. Firiel met Gandalf's eye for a moment, and his expression told her that this was definitely not good. Thorin continued.

"They say this quest is ours and ours alone."

The company all looked equal parts betrayed and discouraged.

"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo, who had come to stand by Gandalf, asked.

Gandalf straightened immediately, looking mildly alarmed.

"Bilbo, my dear fellow," he said, spinning in his chair, but not looking at him, "Let us have a little more light."

Bilbo nodded his head and took off to find a candle just beyond the door frame. Firiel was electing to once again remain back and observe, not wanting to ruin any interesting events that may unfold. She watched as Gandalf removed a piece of folded paper from his pocket.

"Far to the East," he began, unfolding his paper, "Over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single, solitary peak."

She watched her uncle lean past Thorin to take a look at the paper, which she now saw to be a small map.

"The Lonely Mountain," Bilbo read.

"Aye," a sturdy, red-headed dwarf named Glóin chimed, "Óin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time."

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain," Óin said, "As it was foretold.

" When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end ."

Beast? Firiel was even more curious now. What beast did they speak of? What on Earth was Erebor? It was all rather exciting. Bilbo soon voiced her own musings.

"Uh, what beast?" he asked, suddenly quite pale.

"Well, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible," Bofur told him casually, speaking as though he were telling an old ghost tale, "Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather. Teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks. Extremely fond of precious metals."

"Yes, I know what a dragon is," Bilbo found his voice, a little insulted but still somewhat shaken.

"Oh dear," Firiel murmured, that awful bubbling she had had earlier that evening returning in force.

"I'm not afraid. I'm up for it!" Ori said suddenly, standing, "I'll give'im a taste of dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!"

"Good lad, Ori!" someone praised him as the others voiced their rather mixed reactions.