Thorin's Vow - the Hobbit

CHAPTER THREE

It was well into the night when the lone figure crept up to their destination. Everything was smaller in size, had been for while now on the tail end of their journey. Fences reached the stranger mid-thigh and homes were underground with large colorful doors; usually surrounded with flowers, gardens, and shrubbery. The paths were gravel or dirt, but carefully cultivated either way. While the newcomer could see almost as well in the dark as they could in day-light, colors were tricky. Though they had no doubt everything was as vibrant as it could possibly be.

Dull leather boots treaded softly as they wandered up the stone path. Faint glowing blue lines were etched carefully into the woodwork of the round door. Rómestámo had mentioned a sigil, or a rune of some sort would be visible, that was how to know which hobbit hole was the right one.

Or the noise coming from inside.

Raucous laughter followed by riotous protests seemed an unending loop as the shadowed guest stood outside listening. A gloved hand reached out from behind the dark cloak, black leather squeaking as they tightened it to a fist before gently knocking on the door.

All sound ceased abruptly.

Then the sharp twang of a sword sliding out of its sheath was heard, followed by several more and a few shouted words before a deeper and smoother voice spoke up over the commotion, easing the tense atmosphere back down.

Softly, a pitter-patter of feet shuffling toward the door caught the stranger's attention. The large door opened slowly with a short creak before a curly head popped up behind the edge, the warm light from inside the house spilling over the threshold into the walkway, highlighting the tall figure in black.

"Um, hello. May I help you?"

"All is well Bilbo, you may let her in." Bilbo's eyebrows went high on his forehead, under is his curls as he took in the sight of the shadowed newcomer, now a woman. Equally surprised choruses went up through the small hobbit hole, varying degrees of aggression and disbelief.

The hooded head dipped in welcome before lifting a foot and ducking, stepping through into a warm and welcoming home. The entryway was filled with stools and benches and coat hooks with various items scattered around and hung up. The hobbit was still standing near the open door, partially hidden with his eyebrows still missing. He seemed to come to and coughed into his hand before jumping to shut the door.

"Can I take your cloak, Miss?" His voice trailed off in question. Two gloved hands reached up slowly and carefully dragged the hood down. Wisps of blonde hair fluttered about as the longer pieces were still trapped by the cloak. The woman's lips turned into a soft smile as she took in the hobbit and his home. The same hobbit who was now staring at her wide-eyed.

Flicking the clasp at her throat, she trailed the cloak over her shoulders before folding it over one arm and offering it to Bilbo.

"Thank you, Master Bilbo." That gentle upward turn of her mouth and immediately an answering grin appeared on his face. "You may call me Authwen."

He didn't answer, merely blushed and stuttered a bit before wandering down a darkened hallway, her cloak in his arms.

Absolutely adorable.

Before the woman had a chance to move any further, Gandalf appeared from the other room, his face blank in the flickering light.

"Hello Mithrandir. I trust you are well?" He had left her with Rómestámo not two days after she arrived in Middle Earth. The blue wizard had finally acknowledged that she unnerved the both of them, but Gandalf a bit more.

The old man tightly nodded his head in reply, before sweeping out his arm to the other room.

"Behave yourself." He whispered as she passed. She smiled then, one that Gandalf blinked away. It had looked, for a moment with the shadows dancing across her face, as if pointed teeth stretched between her lips. He dismissed the notion but couldn't stop the slight tremor that racked his frame before he slowly followed her in.

Gathered around a modest wooden table, much too small for the company it held, was a mesh of some of the most interesting creatures the woman had seen yet.

Dwarves.

Though each one looked vastly different from the next. Even those who seemed almost human in features, compared to the others. The King and his kin, for example.

"A woman, Gandalf?"

Speaking of King.

He was older here than the image in her mind's eye supplied for her. His hair was still long and dark, though now streaked with grey. His black beard still closely cropped and that strong straight nose topped by piercing blue eyes. Eyes that were now calculated and coldly trained on her.

"This woman is called Authwen and you may address me as such. As I am my own person, you will speak to me if you have any qualms."

A world weary sigh came from off to her right as the tension in the room thickened to suffocating levels.

Eyes that were ice, now burned with fire and flashed.

"Why, you-!" A dwarf, bald with dark lines etched into his skin, reached over his shoulder to grasp his axe and suddenly found himself struggling to breathe. The small pale hand at his throat didn't budge as he clawed and pulled and bucked, trying and failing to break free.

The woman, who had been standing in the entryway, was now crouched on the table over the body of the dwarf, the bright silver flash of a blade pressed against his cheek. The dwarf, eyes blown wide and mouth gaping, watched in growing horror as blue eyes slowly bled black, all color disappearing before it flooded the white as well. Her face was mere inches from his, pools of inky darkness staring into him as her hot breath puffed against his cheeks.

"I think you'd look much more handsome without a beard. Hmm?" Tinkling laughter filled the room as each dwarf snapped out of their stupor and leapt to the defense of their comrade. One who was clearly in the clutches of a mad woman.