Hopeless Wanderer (Hobbit Fanfic Story)

Chapter 16: Apologies

After I got dressed in a light blue dress, I made my way to the dining hall. As soon as I approached the dining hall, I found the majority of the dwarves along with a familiar looking hobbit at a small table. At the taller table, I saw Nanor, Oreth, Húron, Gilornel, Thingol, Kyra, Mîlel, Gandalf, Elrond, and Thorin seated. There were elves entertaining us with harps and flutes.

"Líreth." Thorin gasped. "You look beautiful."

I couldn't help but smile at Thorin's words. As I sat down my eyes met Thorin's, and I muttered a thank you before turning away. I refused to look at Thorin or Nanor. As we ate, Gandalf mentioned he had swords he wanted us to inspect. Gandalf hands me on of the swords, and I immediately recognize it.

"This is Orcrist, the Goblin-cleaver. A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West. My kin." I said, amazed, before handing it back to Gandalf who handed it to Thorin.

"Indeed. May it serve you well." Elrond replied before taking Gandalf's sword.

From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Thorin give a small nod of respect. However Elrond's words snapped me back into the moment.

"And this is Glamdring. The Foe-hammer, sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for the Goblin wars of the First Age." Elrond said in awe. "How did you come by these?"

"We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East road, shortly before we were ambushed by orcs." Gandalf explained.

"And what were you doing on the Great East road?" Thingol asked.

Thorin immediately stood up and excused himself. His eyes met mine for a moment before he stormed off towards the other dwarves.

"He's got a point." Elrond chimed in. "A halfling and thirteen dwarves. I understand the three elves, but the others? Strange traveling companions, Gandalf."

"These are the descendants of the House of Durin." Gandalf informed him. "They are noble folk that are surprisingly cultured. They have a deep love of the arts."

Before Gandalf could say anything else, the dwarf with a hat stood on the table and began to sing. "There's an inn, a merry old inn beneath an old gray hill. And there they brew a beer so brown that the Man in the Moon himself came down one night to drink his fill."

As he continued to sing, several of the dwarves began to throw the food around, causing the other elves to cringe and look confused.

"Oh, the ostler has a tipsy cat that plays a five-stringed fiddle; and up and down he saws his bow now squeaking high, now purring low, now sawing in the middle! So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle; a jig that would wake the dead. He squeaked, and sawed, and quickened the tune, while the landlord shook the Man in the Moon: 'It's after three!' He said.

They all laughed as he finished his song. Lindir wore a pained look as one of the younger dwarves threw food at one of the statues behind Lindir. I turned back at Gandalf and he gave us a sheepish smile. I shook my head before excusing myself.

"Líreth!"

I made my way through the halls when I heard my voice again. It was my brother, Nanor's, voice. He eventually caught up to me and I turned around with an irritated sigh. "Tôr, what do you want?"