The Hobbit | The Lost Bender {Book 1}

7 | The contract

{Myrna's POV}

The ambiance around the room had dropped instantly as soon as Thorin had walked into the dining room, sitting down at the head of the long table. Oin had placed a plate of food in front of him and he had started eating his soup rather soundly as we all sat down around the table.

I shared an uncertain look with Rigmor, who shrugged.
"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?" Balin spoke up, eyeing their leader who had stopped chewing.

"Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms." Excited muttering erupted from the Dwarfs.
"What do the Dwarfs of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?" Dwalin asked.

"They will not come." The joyful faces fell into disappointed frowns.
"They say this quest is ours, and ours alone."

"You're going on a quest?"
All eyes went to Bilbo, who was standing leaned against door frame behind Gandalf, uncertainty filling his eyes.

"Bilbo, my dear fella," Gandalf began. "Let us have a little more light."

As the Hobbit went to fetch an extra candle, the wizard took a map from his pocket and folded it open in front of him, the Dwarfs around him scurrying closer.

"Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak." The piece of paper wasn't large and had a few drawings on it.

"The Lonely Mountain." Bilbo read aloud as he placed the candle closer to the map.
"Aye. Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time." Gloin commented while Gandalf ignited his pipe.

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold: When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end." Bilbo seemed to grow concerned and fiddled uneasily with his hands.

"Uh, What beast?" Bofur yanked his pipe from his lips and turned to the Halfling.

"Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, 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 interrupted, stepping closer. Ori shot up from his seat.

"I'm not afraid! I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of the Dwarfish iron right up his jacksie!" Some of his friends cheered for him.
"Good lad Ori!"
"Sit down!" Dori said, putting his hand on his younger brothers shoulder.

I smiled a bit. I had spoken to Ori earlier this evening, and he was as shy as a mouse. If the time was there, I was sure he wouldn't actually dare to go to attack Smaug.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest. But even though we have those... Apprentices of Gandalf's, we are still few."

Mutters of disbelief started to echo through the room.
"Hey, who are you calling dim!"
"Watch it!"
"What did he say?" Oin asked me, putting his trumpet towards me for me to speak in. I wanted to repeat what Balin said, but Fili's voice went over the group.

"We may be few in number, but we're fighters, all of us, to the last dwarf! And humans, of course." He winked at me. "And you forget, we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time."

Gandalf tried to say something but was completely ignored by the yelling kinsmen. "How many then?" The wizard raised an eyebrow.
"Uh, what?"
"Well, how many dragons have you killed?"

He started coughing.

"Go on, give us a number!" Hell seemed to break loose as everyone started to talk at the same time, not letting each other speak.
Rigmor was staring blankly at Bilbo, who stood fairly uncomfortable in the room. Suddenly, the room was brought quiet as Thorin shot up, slamming his hands on the table.