Demons

Chapter One

Thorin

A young dwarf messenger galloped across country, towards the Iron Hills. His pony's hair was matted with sweat and its mouth was full of foam as it chewed the bit.

Finally, they reached the path leading to the entrance. Unable to take the pony up with him, the messenger dismounted and tied his pony up. Then he began to follow the path, legs trembling due to exhaustion. In his hand he clutched a bit of parchment. He had been instructed to deliver it as quickly as possible; and he intended to do just that, for he was the most trusted messenger in Middle-Earth.

After about five minutes he reached the front gates. Grasping the gold ram door knocker in his sweaty palm, he banged on the door three times. Then he waited.

Soon enough a guard heaved the oak door open and let the messenger in. The guard led him through winding stone hallways, lit by only a few torches.

The pair came to a halt in front of another set of doors. The guard gestured for the messenger to enter, which he did.

He was greeted by a blinding light, for the hall that he stood in now was lined with burning torches. The floor was made from polished slabs of jet and pure white marble walls supported the grand ceiling. Occupying the centre of the room was a long wooden table. Sat around it were at least fifty dwarves. Some were nobles, others highly respected warriors... and we were all looking at him.

He seemed to shrink at the sight, but the young dwarf scanned the congregation of dwarves until his eyes finally settled on me. I sat at the end of the table, next to Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills. My head was hung solemnly as I stared at the table. My wavy raven locks tumbled over my muscular shoulders which were covered with a blue tunic and fur coat.

The messenger made his way down the table towards me. Once he was at my side he cleared his throat and took a deep bow, "Thorin, Son of Thrain - I bring a letter from the dwarves of the Blue Mountains." he declared.

I raised his head and looked at the messenger. I offered a small smile and plucked the letter out of his hands, "Thank you." I said, my voice deep and silky smooth. Inclining my head slightly, I silently dismissed the messenger and broke the seal on the parchment. My eyes travelled rapidly down the page, a smile slowly forming on my face.

Dearest Thorin, Son of Thrain,

We have received word that Gandalf the Grey has found our burglar, therefore the fourteenth member of your company. We are to meet at Bilbo Baggins' house (Bag-End, The Shire) this evening.

I wish you the best of luck on your return from the Iron Hills.

Yours truly,

Balin, Son of Fundin

I rose from my chair. "Thank you, for your time." I announced. My voice was stiff, which was no surprise. Dain had just broken the news that he would not be providing an army to assist me on my quest. Promptly, I strode towards the door.

By the time I reached the base of the Iron Hills a stable hand had already tacked up my pony and was patiently awaiting my arrival, "Sharman is ready for you, Sire." said he, bowing deeply as I approached.

"Thank you." and with that I mounted my trusted mare and cantered into the midday sunlight.

***

The sun had set, the moon had risen. It's silver light illuminated the sign outside the pub that we had agreed to meet at, The Prancing Pony. I dismounted and rewarded Sharman with a fresh apple from my pocket. Finding the other ponies, I tied her to the fence and set off in search for the home of Mr Baggins.

After wondering through the rolling hills of The Shire many hours, I finally stumbled across a circular green door. My eyes travelled to the glowing mark that had been carved in the wood. This is it, I thought. Opening the small gate, I made my way through the front garden. The muffled sound of singing reached my ears and a smile crept onto my face; they were a jolly bunch. I raised my fist and banged on the door. The singing ceased immediately. While waiting for the door to open, I gazed around my surroundings; The Shire was a rather beautiful place. I felt my heart aching as my mind wondered to the Halls of Erebor and her...

The door opened and I turned to face the man inside, "Gandalf." I acknowledged, bowing my head slightly. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice." I stepped inside and shrugged my cloak from my shoulders. I looked to my left and saw that Kili, my youngest nephew, had appeared at my side. He took the cloak from my arms and went to the pegs to hang it up. I smiled warmly at him. "I wouldn't have found it at all if it weren't for that mark on the door." I added.

A squeak sounded from my right and I turned to see what the source of the noise was. A hobbit stood in the corner of the hallway, an appalled look plastered on his small face. "Mark on the door? There is no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!" he exclaimed, his voice was shrill.

"There is a mark, I put it there myself." said Gandalf, his tone apologetic.

I cared not for the mark on the door but for the fact that it appeared the Burglar that the wizard had chosen was a small, squeaky hobbit. "So this is the hobbit?" I purred, beginning my prowl and circling Mr Baggins. "Tell me, Master Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

"Pardon." he answered, evidently flustered.

'What is your weapon of choice?" I pressed, highly amused and the hobbit's ignorance.

"Well, I have some skill at conkers, if you must know." said he, standing a little taller as if that was something to be proud of, "But I fail to see how that's relevant."

"I thought as much," I scoffed, "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." I heard the company roar with laughter as Dwalin, the dwarf I had trained with in my youth and my most loyal friend, led the way through to the dining room.

I settled in the seat at the head of the table and began to eat the soup that Bofur had just placed in front of me; I was famished. The rest of the company sat in silence and sipped their ale. Balin broke the silence.

"So, what is the news from the Iron Hills?" he asked, a bright light twinkling in his old eyes.

"They will not come," my words were greeted by a collective groan, "They say that this is our quest, and ours alone."

"Your going on a quest?" Mr Baggins piped up.

"Ah, Mr Baggins, perhaps some more li-" Gandalf's words were cut short by a knock on the door. I froze and stared at the the wizard but he would not meet my eyes. What has he done now? I thought. The rest of company rose from their seats and dashed into the hallway, all clamering to see who the new arrival was. I, however, remained in my seat; it was probably just a neigbour.

I heard the door open and, even from the dining room, I shivered at the draft that came gushing in. My company gasped in unison, but I remained seated. But my resolve soon broke when I heard a soft, feminine voice float through the air.

"Sorry I'm late, Gandalf. I had to deal with something home." it said. The voice sounded vaguely familiar and it sent a shiver down my spine. Ignoring the sensation, anger flared inside me; why had Gandalf invited a woman?! I shoved my chair backwards and stormed into the hallway, pushing past Ori, Bifur and Bofur, Fili and, finally, Dwalin, to reach the wizard and confront him. But I was struck dumb when I saw who was at the door.

A woman stood framed by the moonlight. She was a few inches shorter than myself, the average height of a dwarf maiden, but she sported no beard. Her body was delicate but toned and she carried herself with elegance. Her ash brown hair was secured in a plait that hung down her back, but a few pieces had fallen loose and framed her kind face. She wore a deep purple cloak, which complimented her shining hazel eyes. A quiver of arrows was visible over her shoulders, along with the handles of two swords. In her hand she held a reddish brown bow and I noticed a few daggers sheathed in her belt.

My eyes lifted to her face again and our eyes met. The corners of her rosy pink lips were turned up in a small smile that I could not return. My heart was racing and my breathing was shallow.

Of all the names in Middle-Earth, I never expected to say this one again.

"Meg."