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Chapter Text

It was supposed to be a normal weekend. She was supposed to go to all her classes, deal with that one asshole of a professor, and then relax in her dorm, binge watching supernatural. 

Clearly, fate had other plans.

Freya sighed as she closed her laptop, and looked out the window of the coffee shop.

Snow fell in gentle flakes, melting the second they hit the ground. It was almost Christmas, and despite the fact that the rest of the city was excited, Freya couldn’t find it in herself to cheer up.

It was New York after all, home of cynical minds.

Freya put her laptop in her bag and walked out of the coffee shop, bidding the barista a fond farewell.

“See ya later Jessie!”

The baristas eyes twinkled as she waved back.

“Come back soon!”

She was pretty cute. Freya thought to herself on the way home. I should have asked for her number.

Her thoughts were cut off by a hand grabbing her wrist and pulling her into an alley. She shrieked and found herself facing a man twice her size.

“Now little lady,” the man began, flashing a knife, “Give me all your money, and I’ll let you go.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Freya almost snorted.

A college student? With money? Ha.

The man pressed his knife closer to her throat.

“I said, give me your money.”

Freyas body froze up and she nearly sobbed.

“O-okay, just, just let me-“

She was cut off when an odd white substance grabbed onto the mans knife and pulled it away.

“Threatening innocent college students?” Spider-Man tilted his head. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

The man looked terrified and made a run for it. Fortunately, Spider-Man had super powers on his side.

Unfortunately , the man pushed Freya on his way to get as far away from the vigilante as possible.

And Freya found herself falling.

She let out a yelp and covered her face with her arms, figuring she’d end up with some scraped elbows and a bruised pride at most.

But she didn’t land. When she opened her eyes, she was looking down at a lush forest, which was rapidly approaching her face, and had no business being so green in the middle of winter.

She let out a sharp scream, and hit the ground.

“Ow.” She groaned, sitting up. She had landed in a clearing, and staring at her was an odd looking man.

He was only an inch taller than her, from what she could tell, and had curly brown hair with curious eyes, and pointed ears. He was dressed a little strangely, almost medieval like. The strangest thing about him was that he was barefoot, and his feet were rather large and hairy.

“Are you alright Miss?” The strange man asked her.

Freya groaned and allowed the man to help her to her feet.

“No.” She rubbed her head. “Where am I?”

“East Farthing Woods.” The man responded, “Just outside Hobbiton.”

Freya stared at him.

“Hobbiton? Never heard of it. What happened to New York? The last thing I remember was the guy with the knife, and falling through a hole. Also, out of curiosity, what exactly are you? I’ve never seen anyone with pointed ears and big feet before, no offense.”

The mans blinked and stuttered.

“My apologies. Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire at your service. I am a hobbit. I’m assuming you’re from the race of men?”

“I- I’m a human yeah. My names Freya. Freya Nelson of uh- well of New York I guess.”

The man- no, hobbit - scratched his chin.

“I’ve never heard of New York. Would you perhaps like to come back to my house for a cup of tea while we figure out your predicament?”

Freya nodded.

“Yes please.”

Chapter Text

It had been two years since Freya had fallen into what Bilbo referred to as ‘Middle Earth.’

She had quickly realized that there was no way she was going to make it back home, and when Bilbo generously offered to let her live with him she had accepted.

He had adopted her as his sister, and she made herself useful by helping around his house. She was soon banished from the kitchen, and for good reason, but she found that she was a dab hand at gardening and so Bilbo allowed her to work there.

That was precisely what she was doing the day the wizard showed up.

It was sunny but cool, the kind of temperature it would be at the very end of the last day of school, and a sense of anticipation hung in the air.

Freya watched with interest as an old grey man made his way up the path, stopping in front of Bilbo, who had his eyes closed in contentment.

She let out a sharp laugh as the man, who must have been a wizard, Bilbo had told her about such things, turned her adoptive brothers smoke ring into a butterfly, which then flew straight into Bilbos face.

He sputtered, and Freya held back a grin.

“Good morning.” Bilbo said, clearly confused.

“What do you mean?” The man asked. “Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning? Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?”

Freya stared at him as Bilbo blinked, and responded by waving his pipe vaguely.

“All of them at once I suppose.”

The wizard hummed and glanced at Freya. A flash of confusion came over his face as he looked her over.

“Can we help you?” Freya asked curiously.

The wizard leaned on his staff and gazed at the two of them.

“That remains to be seen.” He said, then, after a pause he elaborated, “I am looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

Freya and Bilbo shared a glance.

“An adventure?” Freya asked, standing up and brushing the dirt off her trousers, before coming to stand by Bilbo.

“No, I don’t imagine anyone west of Bree, would have much interest in adventures.” Bilbo said authoritatively, “Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner!”

He stood up, and got the mail from the box, before taking Freya by the arm and glancing back at the wizard.

“Good morning.” He said, and pulled Freya towards the house.

“To think,” the old man rumbled, “that I should have lived to be good- morninged by Belladonna Took’s son, as if I was selling buttons at the door!”

Bilbo paused and turned around.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’ve changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo looked to Freya for support.

“Don’t look at me.” She told him, “I’m not poking this with a 30 foot pole. Not without good incentive at least. I haven’t seen something this entertaining than the time one of our Took cousins glued Lobelia to her chair!”

Bilbo sighed and turned back to the man.

“Do I know you?” He inquired.

“Well you know my name, although you don’t remember I belong to it. I’m Gandalf, and Gandalf means…me!”

While Freya was still completely confused, a spark of recognition seemed to go off in Bilbo.

“Gandalf? Not Gandalf, the wandering wizard who made such excellent fireworks? Old Took used to have them on Midsummer’s Eve! Well! I had no idea you were still in business.”

The mans face soured.

“And where else should I be?” He demanded.

Freya snickered, and Bilbo stuttered.

“Well, I’m pleased to find you remember something about me, even if it’s only my fireworks.” The wizard hummed thoughtfully, looking the pair of them up and down.

Freya had a feeling that something important was about to happen.

“Well that’s decided.” The wizard said with finality. “It’ll be very good for the two of you, and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others.”

Freya raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean, ‘the others?’”

But Bilbo cut across her.

“No. No no no. We do not want any adventures here, thank you. Not today, not… I suggest you try over the hill or…across the water. Good morning. Come along Freya.”

Freya groaned and sent a wink to the wizard.

Send ‘em over. She mouthed, and the wizard nodded, eyes twinkling as Bilbo pulled her inside and shut the door.

“Come on Bilbo, don’t be such a stick in the mud!” Freya said. “Could it have hurt that much to hear him out?”

Bilbo frowned.

“You do not know Gandalf the way I do Freya.”

“Clearly.” Freya responded dryly, “as before today, I’d never met him.”

Bilbo frowned and glanced out the window, clearly still suspicious of the wizard.

“Bilbo.” Freya said exasperatedly, “It’ll be fine. Listen, I’m headed to the market to pick up a few things okay? I’ll see you around dinner time.”

Bilbo, who was still staring out the window, only nodded, and Freya sighed and went to grab her cloak.

As she walked along the pathway she managed to catch up with the wizard, who was walking towards East Farthing.

“Gandalf!” She called, and the wizard turned.

She strode up to walk alongside him.

“Whatever it is you’re doing, I want in.”

Chapter Text

Bilbo didn’t know why the wizard had shown up. He hadn’t seen Gandalf in years, not since before his mother’s death.

He had to admit, he’d been rather shocked when he’d seen his old friend the doorstep. The problem was, wherever Gandalf went, trouble seemed to follow.

And if Freya seemed intrigued by the idea of an adventure he couldn’t blame her. She was, after all, not a hobbit, and once upon a time Bilbo himself had been like that. However, he could not condone her going off into the wild. She was his sister now, and he had a responsibility to keep her safe.

He pondered over this as he sat down to dinner. He was about to take the first bite when the doorbell rang.

He paused.

Who could be calling at such a late hour?

He placed his napkin down a went to answer the door.

He regretted doing so the moment he saw who had rang.

Standing outside his door was a gruff looking dwarf. He was bald and fierce looking, with tattoos covering his head, and a pair of axes strapped to his back.

“Dwalin.” The dwarf said, “At your service.”

And so the invasion began.

Forty-five minutes later, Bilbo was staring at his empty pantry forlornly as in the next room over, twelve dwarves proceeded to eat him out of house and home.

He shot Gandalf a glare, before trying to right at least a few wrongs.

“Excuse me!” He said to a rather handsome hatted dwarf, “That is a doily, not a dish cloth!”

“But it’s full of holes!” The dwarf protested.

“It’s supposed to look like that, it’s crochet.”

“Oh and a lovely game it is too, if you’ve got the balls for it.”

Bilbo groaned before turning to Gandalf.

“My dear Bilbo,” the wizard said, “what on earth is the matter?”

“What’s the matter?” Bilbo spluttered. “I am surrounded by dwarves, that’s what’s the matter. What they’re doing here?”

“Oh, they’re quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them.” Gandalf said cheerfully.

Bilbo scowled at him.

“I don’t want to get used to them! Look at the state of my kitchen! There’s mud trod in the carpet, they…they’ve pillaged the pantry! I’m not even gonna tell you what they’ve done in the bathroom, they’ve all but destroyed the plumbing! I don’t understand what they’re doing in my house!”

Gandalf laughed and seemed as though he was about to respond, but before he did, a dwarf clad entirely in knit wear made his way cautiously to Bilbo.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he began, “But what should I do with my plate?”

Bilbo felt a small sense of relief that at least once of these dwarves was a little polite but that quickly disappeared when another dwarf took the plate out of the first dwarfs hands and threw it to his brother, who was standing in the doorway.

“Excuse me!” He cried, reaching for the next plate and missing, “That’s my mother’s Westfarthing pottery, it’s over a hundred years old!”

Meanwhile, in the dining room, the dwarves were banging the utensils on the table.

“And…and, ca…can you not do that, you’ll blunt them!”

“Ooh did you hear that lads?” The hatted dwarf exclaimed, giving Bilbo a wink, “He says we’ll blunt the knives!”

And then the singing began. Bilbo thought he must have had at least three heart attacks, seeing his dishes tossed about in such a manner, though it was nothing compared to the sense of profound relief when he finally forced his way into the kitchen and saw that none of his plates were broken.

He shot the Grey Wizard a glare just as a knock came at the the door.

All residual laughter died as Gandalf’s face turned serious.

“He is here.” He said, ominously.

Bilbo, for his part, was tired of the theatrics.

“Who’s here?”

Everyone gathered into the front hall as Gandalf opened the door to reveal yet another dwarf.

“Gandalf.” He said, inclining his head, before handing the wizard his cloak.

“I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. I wouldn’t have found it at all, had it not been for that mark on the door.”

“Mark?” Bilbo said, confused, “There is no mark on that door it was painted a week ago!”

“There is a mark my dear Bilbo, I put it there myself.”

“Allow me to rephrase my sentence Gandalf. There had better not be a mark on my freshly painted door or I shall be forced to, and I’ll quote my sister here, ‘throw hands.’ I expect any marks to have disappeared by the end of the night.”

Gandalf nodded, looking a little shocked at Bilbos outburst, and then turned to the newly arrived dwarf.

“Allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“So,” Thorin said, looking him up and down. “this is the hobbit. Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?”

Bilbo blinked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Axe or sword? What’s your preference?”

“Well I have some skill with conkers if you must know but I hardly see how that’s relevant.”

Thorin smirked.

“I thought as much.” He directed his gaze to the dwarves behind Bilbo. “He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”

The company chuckled and Bilbo grew frustrated.

“Now see here-“ he didn’t get to finish his sentence as the door behind Thorin swung open, revealing his sister, who looked at the gathering in shock.

“Uh, hi? Can I come in? I live here.”

“You’re late Freya.” Bilbo said, pushing his way past the dwarves to see his sister.

“No shit Sherlock. I got into a bit of a verbal fight with Lobelia and there was no way I was letting that witch have the last word.” She hung up her coat on the wall. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”

——

When Freya opened the door to her house she was greeted with quite a sight.

Thirteen dwarves and a wizard stood in the entry hall.

One of them, a rather handsome looking fellow with ebony hair and a close cropped beard stared at her incredulously.

“Uh, hi?” Freya addressed them all in general. “Can I come in? I live here.”

She saw her brother push his way through the group of dwarves.

“You’re late Freya.” He accused.

“No shit Sherlock.” She said, pulling off her cloak, “I got into a bit of a verbal fight with Lobelia and there was no way I was letting that witch have the last word.” She hung up her coat on the wall. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”

Bilbo groaned.

“Believe me, when I find out, you’ll be the first to know.”

Chapter Text

After a brief introduction to all the dwarves, they gathered at the table and Bilbo gave Freya and Thorin a bowl of soup each.

As they ate, the dwarves started up a conversation.

“What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?” The one called Balin asked, “Did they all come?”

“Aye.” Answered Thorin, smiling slightly, “Envoys from all seven kingdoms.”

Excited murmurings sounded around the table.

“And what did the dwarves of the Iron Hill say?” Dwalin asked, “Is Dain with us?”

Thorin set down his spoon forlornly.

“They will not come.” He announced. “They say this quest is ours and ours alone.”

“Quest?” Bilbo questioned. “You’re going on a quest?”

“Well Bilbo, I find it unlikely that they’re headed to a wedding.” Freya rolled her eyes, and a couple of the dwarves snickered.

“Bilbo, my good man, could you get us a light?”

And as Bilbo went to retrieve a candle, Freya learned about the dragon, Erebor, and the Arkenstone.

“Wait.” She held up her hands, “you’re telling me, you want to hire Bilbo to go and steal a rock from a dragon of all creatures? You might as well ask me to raid a hydra base! Alone!”

“And that’s a bad idea?” Ori questioned.

“ Very .” Freya confirmed. “You’d need an expert to get into that mountain. Almost Hermes level.”

“Is he?”

“Am I what?” Bilbo asked from behind her.

“An expert burglar.” Freya said, before finishing off her soup.

“Me? No! No, No, No! I…I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life!”

“Keep telling yourself that buddy. I doubt it will change our guests minds.”

“Master Baggins I suggest you send your wife elsewhere.” Dwalin said, “It would not do to have wagging tongues spread word of our quest.”

Freya placed her spoon in the table, and stood.

“Let’s get a few things straight okay? First, don’t talk about me like I’m not here. That’s rude. Second, I’m going with you so there isn’t much you can do about that. I may not be a hobbit, but I’m a dab hand at healing and I know how to read a map, unlike some people. Lastly, I’m not his wife, I’m his adoptive sister, Bilbo’s not my type. No offense.” She said to her brother.

“None taken.” He told her.

“And I’m afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins and his sister. He’s hardly burglar material.” Balin stroked his beard.

“Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.” Dwalin glared at the two of them and Freya fought the urge to flip him off as the dwarves all began speaking over each other, some defending Gandalf’s choice, some vehemently disagreeing with it.

Finally Gandalf stood up, and the room darkened.

“Enough!” He thundered, “If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is! Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose, and while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of a dwarf, the scent of a hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. He has chosen to bring his sister if he comes. There’s a lot more to both of them than appearances suggest. And they’ve  got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including themselves.”

He turned to Thorin.

“You must trust me on this.”

They stared at each other for a while before Thorin relented.

“Very well. We’ll do it your way.” He turned to Balin.

“Give them the contract.”

“Cool.” Freya said, while Bilbo took it cautiously from the white haired dwarf.

“It’s just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth.” He said.

“Funeral arrangements!?” Bilbo stuttered.

“Let me see.” Freya took the paper from his hands. “My cousin Foggy was a lawyer down in Hell’s Kitchen, I’ve learned to understand legal jargon.”

Bilbo relented the paper to her and she skimmed over it, dwarves watching.

Behind her, she heard Thorin have a whispered conversation with Gandalf.

“I cannot guarantee their safety.” He said.

“Understood.” Gandalf responded.

“Nor will I be responsible for their fate.”

“…very well.”

Freya’s eyes caught back onto the contract as their conversation ended.

“Uh let’s see, ‘Total’s cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding, one fourteenth of total profit if any.’ That seems fair.”

She scanned the page further.

“Um…’The present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, including, but not limited to…lacerations. Evisceration.”

“What!?” Bilbo spluttered, “Let me see that!”

He turned a page over before staring at the assembled dwarves incredulously.

“ Incineration ?”

“Oh, aye, he’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye.” Bofur responded, and Bilbos breathing began to quicken.

“We are dealing with a dragon Bilbo.” She said, and took the contract back from him. “This is exactly why I didn’t want you reading this.”

Bilbos breathing didn’t slow.

“You alright laddie?” Balin asked, not unkindly.

“Huh? Yeah, I fe… I feel a bit faint.”

Bofur clearly felt the need to elaborate.

“Think furnace, with wings.”

“Air. I-I need air.”

Behind Bilbo, Freya made vigorous motions with her hands, trying to get the hatted dwarf to stop.

“Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You’re nothing more than a pile of ash!”

Bilbo paused for a moment, as if he were thinking, before turning to Freya.

“I- nope.” He said, and fainted dead away.

“Very helpful Bofur.” She said sarcastically, “Now look what you’ve done! You’ve fucked up a perfectly good sibling! Look at him! He’s gonna have anxiety now!”

“How are you so calm about this?” Kili questioned.

“What did you expect me to pass out because I’m female? Very sexist.”

“But you could die !” Fili protested.

“Bold of you, truly, to assume I want to live.” She bent down to retrieve her brothers body. “Now will someone help me get him to the parlor?”

With a lot of work, and quite a bit of cursing, they managed to get Bilbo comfortably situated in his favorite armchair, and Freya made sure to set a cup of tea next to him for when he woke. Then she turned to the dwarves.

“I’m pretty sure Bilbos got a blackberry pie or two stashed away. Any of you want some?”

The dwarves cheered in agreement and followed her to the kitchen.

She didn’t see a certain dark haired dwarf staring at her, as though she seemed familiar.

Chapter Text

Bilbo awoke two minutes later.

“I’ll be alright.” He said, shooing his concerned sister out of the room. (She had rushed in as soon as he had awoken.) “Just let me sit quietly for a moment.”

“You’ve been sitting quietly for far too long.” Gandalf said, causing Bilbo to flinch.

“Tell me, when did doilies and your mother’s dishes become so important to you? I remember a young hobbit who was always running off in search of Elves, in the woods. He’d stay out late, come home, after dark, trailing mud and twigs and fireflies. A young hobbit who would’ve liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. The world is not in your books and maps. It’s out there .” He gestured to a window, and Bilbo felt a pull in his gut, as though something tookish had woken up in him.

He pushed the feelings down quickly.

“I can’t just go running off into the blue! I am a Baggins , of Bag End! I have a sister to take care of!”

“You are also a Took . Your sister can take care of herself.” Bilbo groaned, as the wizard continued. “Did you know that your great, great, great, great uncle Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, well he could! In the battle of Greenfields, he charged the goblin ranks he swung his club so hard, it knocked the goblin king’s head clean off, and it sailed a hundred yards through the air, and went down a rabbit hole. And thus the battle as won, and the game of golf invented at the same time.”

Bilbos lips twitched.

“I do believe you made that up.”

“Well, all good stories deserve embellishment. You’ll have a tale or two to tell of your own when the two of you come back.”

Bilbo smiled softly.

“Can you promise that we will come back?”

The wizard paused.

“No.” He said, “And if you do, you’ll not be the same.”

Bilbo sighed and put down the contract.

“That’s what I thought.” He stood, “Sorry, Gandalf, I can’t sign this. You’ve got the wrong hobbit.”

He stood and left the room.

——

Thorin stood in the entry hall, watching as the halfling left his sitting room, looking shaken.

Briefly, he wondered where the young woman had gone.

She is rather odd, he thought to himself.

Her way of speech was something he had never heard before, and she seemed to carry herself in a way that most women didn’t. She looked like a warrior.

She also seemed to laugh in the face of death, which was somewhat off putting.

And she was beautiful. Her golden hair shone brighter than the treasures in Erebor, and her violet eyes intrigued him. Dwarves didn’t have violet eyes.

Next to him, Balin frowned in defeat.

“Well.” The white haired dwarf began, “It appears we have lost our burglar.”

He sighed.

“Probably for the best. The odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toy makers. Hardly the stuff of legend.”

“There are a few warriors amongst us.” Thorin said, memories of Azanulbizar going through his head.

“Old warriors.” Balin said, smiling slightly.

“I would take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills,” Thorin began, “for when I called upon them, they answered. Loyalty, honor, a willing heart. I can ask no more than that.”

“You don’t have to do this.” Balin said, almost pleadingly, “You have a choice. You’ve done honorably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains. A life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor.”

Thorin considered this, and felt his hand close around the key in his pocket. A key that his father might have died for. His resolve hardened.

“From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me.” He held up the key, and it glinted in the lamplight. “They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin. Not for me.”

His old friend sighed, and then placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Then we are with you, laddie. We will see it done.”

——

Freya wasn’t exactly sure why she wanted to go on this adventure. Maybe she was getting bored. Maybe it was to piss off Bilbo.

Maybe she had a death wish.

But she knew for sure she would go that night as the dwarves sang in her parlor.

Somehow, those voices cut deep into her soul. The dwarves sung about lost gold yes, but what she heard was home.

How she missed her own.

She missed Netflix, and Disney movies, and supernatural marathons with her cousin Foggy. She missed caffeine and chocolate and tampons. Odin and his eye she missed those. Periods had gotten so much harder when she landed in middle earth.

She felt a sort of kinship with these dwarves. They knew what it was like to lose a home.

She couldn’t get hers back. But she would help them with theirs, dragon or no.

Next to her, Bilbo swayed in time with the music, and when it finished, she caught his eye.

“I’m going.” She announced, and Bilbo sighed.

“I suppose there is nothing I can say that will stop you?”

“Nope.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to go with you.”

Together, they marched into the parlor.

“We’re coming with you.” Freya announced.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t?” Gandalf said, confused.

“ I didn’t say that, Bilbo did. And I’m very good at persuasion.”

Behind her, Bilbo just sighed.

“So where do we sign?” Freya asked brightly.

——

Thorin watched with a scowl as the two newest members of the company signed the contract, Balin witnessing.

“Everything appears to be in order.” He said, eyes twinkling. “Welcome to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

The girl, Freya, her name was Freya, clapped her hands and smiled.

“Alright, I’m assuming you’ll need a place to stay the night.”

“If it’s not too much trouble.” Balin said, with a slight bow.

“It’s not.” Freya grinned. “We definitely have the space, although some of you might have to share a room.”

“That’s fine.” Bofur nodded.

“Cool. I’ll group you by family if that’s ok. Unless any of you are married and would like to sleep with your spouse?”

There was a chorus of no’s and the company nodded their assent to her plan.

“Alright then! Breakfast will be at six, and we’ll leave whenever y’all want to. Try not to set anything on fire. Looking at you Gandalf.”

The wizard shrugged, as Freya shot him a suspicious look.

Thorin wondered if they’d met before.

“Lights out at 11,” Freya continued, “and if anyone has any allergies let me or Bilbo know. I’d rather not have to deal with an allergic reaction at the beginning of a quest. You all got that?”

Murmurs of assent sounded throughout the room.

“Great! Oh, and one more thing!” She turned to Nori.

“If you would be so kind as to put those candlesticks back where you got them mister Nori, I would be grateful.”

The company stared at her.

“How’d you notice I took them?” Nori asked incredulously, pulling the objects out of his pocket.

“ADHD.” Freya said, tapping her temple. “Attention deficit hyperactive disorder. My brain is hardwired to take notice of everything, so it really shouldn’t come as a shock that I noticed you were hanging around looking suspicious next to the entry table where the candlesticks were later missing. I can put two and two together. I’m not an idiot.”

She paused and looked Nori up and down.

“You should probably put the silverware back too.” She said, and then gestured to the rest of the company who were standing, shocked, next to the fire.

“Follow me, I’ll get you all situated.” She said, and Thorin wondered if there was indeed more to this small unimposing woman than met the eye.

Chapter Text

Freya sat on her pony apprehensively.

“Something wrong lass?” Bofur asked. His brown mare whinnied and shook her head.

“Oh it’s nothing much. Just that I haven’t ridden a horse since I was uh…” she frowned in concentration, “I think I was eight.”

“Eight!?” Kili gaped. “Your parents let you ride that young!?

“Humans age differently.” Freya shrugged.

“How old are you now?” Fili wanted to know.

“25.” She said, “I’ll be 26 in November.”

The company gaped.

“You’re practically a child!” Gloin yelled, seemingly offended.

“I’m not the youngest anymore!” Kili cheered.

“Miss Nelson.” Thorin said, frowning, “what is the meaning of this? We cannot take a child on this quest.” He shot a glare at Gandalf.

“What on earth do you mean?” Bilbo asked, clearly confused. “I mean yes she’s a bit young but I don’t understand-“

Freya cut him off.

“There is no need to panic.” She said. “Humans age differently than dwarves. Just like hobbits reach their maturity at, what was it, 33?” Freya shot Bilbo a glance and he nodded.

“Right,” Freya continued, “Hobbits come of age at 33, and humans come of age at 18.”

“That young?” Ori cried.

“It’s not young to us.” Freya pointed out. “We live to be about 80 or so. Longer if you’re lucky. By your standards I’m practically a child but by my standards I’m probably around Nori’s age.”

She frowned. “Maybe a bit younger.” She conceded.

Kili pouted. “So I’m still the youngest?” He asked sadly.

“I mean, technically-“

Kili covered his ears with his hands.

“Nope. Nope nope nope. I refuse to believe that you are older than me.”

“I kinda am, but go off I guess.”

The dwarves stared at her, and Bilbo sighed.

“What?” Freya asked defensively.

“Why do you talk like that?” Nori asked, earning a cuff from his older brother.

“Like what?” Freya asked.

“Like that.” Fili gestured. “When you say ‘go off’ or last night when Gloin tripped and all you said was ‘mood.’”

Behind her, she heard Gloin let out some impressive swears and threats towards the blond Durin for bringing that up.

“Oh.” Freya said. “I guess you guys don’t talk the same in this world.”

“What do you mean, ‘this world?’” Dwalin asked, “Are you implying that there is more than one?”

“Well yeah.” Freya said, “Multiverse theory and all that. I’m from-“ she frowned, “-Earth 616-MCU-ΩC.”

The company gaped, and Bilbo sighed.

“I’m not telling them.” He said, and went to ride next to Gandalf.

Next to Freya, Ori had already pulled out his notebook.

“What’s your world like?” He asked excitedly. “How did you get here?”

“I fell through a hole.” Freya answered. “And my world is kind of complicated. Why don’t you just ask me questions about it and I’ll answer them?”

Bofur seemed to like this idea, as did Kili and Fili.

“Are there wizards in your world?” The beardless dwarf asked.

Freya tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Depends on who you ask.”

“What kind of holidays do you have?” Ori said.

“I honestly have no idea about most of them.” Freya said honestly, “There’s Christmas, Ramadan, Diwali, Halloween, Easter, Hanukkah, Etc.”

“Do you have magic?” Fili asked.

“We have electronics and that’s kind of the same thing.” Freya responded.

“What are elektronics?” Kili asked.

Hoo boy. This was gonna take a while.

——

Two hours into the journey, everyone was asking questions. Even Gandalf and Bilbo had joined in on the fun.

The only person who had not asked her a question was Thorin. It wasn’t until they had set up camp that first night that he approached her.

“Can you fight?” He asked.

“W-what?” Freya blinked, looking up at the scowling dwarf.

“Can you fight.” Thorin repeated, as though he expected her to say no.

He wasn’t wrong in his assumption.

“Not really.” Freya responded. “I know your basic down and dirty street technique, and sometimes I’d practice boxing at Fogwells gym down in Hell’s Kitchen but other than that I don’t really know much.”

Thorin huffed like he’d expected this answer and stalked off towards Dwalin, leaving behind a very confused Freya.

The next night, Dwalin approached her and handed her a sword.

Freya took it, and glanced up at the bald dwarf.

“What do you want me to do with this? Slice turkey?”

Dwalin frowned.

“Very funny.” He said, “I’m supposed to train you.”

Freya gaped.

“With a sword? Do you want me to cut off my own arm? I’d rather not end up like the Winter Soldier no thank you. Who sword is this anyways?”

“Fili’s.” Dwalin said, and from across the camp Freya saw Fili give her a wave.

“Why are you training me and not Bilbo?” Freya asked.

“Fili and Kili are training your brother.” Dwalin said gruffly.

Typical . Freya thought. I get the difficult teacher.

But she got up and followed Dwalin.

——

Slowly, the days fell into a rhythm. Every morning Freya would wake bright and early and tack up her pony. Then, as they rode, she would answer questions from the company about her world. When the day drew to a close, she would train with Dwalin until dark, and then, exhausted, down a bowl of Bomburs delicious stew, and collapse on her cot, falling asleep instantly.

Slowly, her muscles stopped being sore, and her skill with Fili’s large weapon got better.

And so the days blurred together until one night, about two weeks in, she sat on her cot with a bowl of stew.

A rocky overhang was nearby and the company had set up a fire underneath it. Fili and Kili sat next to it, laughing and teasing each other about something or other.

Bofur and Bifur sat next to each other and were whittling away and some small pieces of wood.

Their great leader was leaning against the rock, seemingly asleep, but scowling as much as ever.

And then, from somewhere across the wilderness, there was a low howl and some screeching.

Next to Freya, Bilbo shuddered.

“What was that?” He asked.

Kilis face became serious.

“Orcs.” He said.

“Orcs?” Freya raised an eyebrow.

“Throat cutters.” Fili said, as another howl echoed across the landscape. “There’d be dozens of them out there. The low lands are crawling with them.”

“They strike, in the wee small hours, when everyone’s asleep.” Kili continued, “Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood.”

Freya stared at them, and as the sound of another howl reached their ears, Bilbo let out a yelp.

Fili and Kili burst into laughter.

“You think that’s funny?” Freya asked, somewhat angrily, “you think it’s hilarious to be attacked when you have no means of defending yourself? Well it’s not. A night raid by anything is not a joking matter.”

Behind her, Thorin had woken up.

“The girl is right.” He growled, causing his nephews to jump. “A night raid by orcs is not something to joke about.”

“We didn’t mean anything by it.” Said Kili, looking appropriately cowed.

“No you didn’t.” Thorin scowled. “You know nothing of the world.”

And he strode off to the edge of the campsite.

“Don’t mind him laddie.” Said Balin kindly. “Thorin has more reason than most to hate Orcs.”

He gestured for Freya, who had stood up in her anger, to sit before he began.

“After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria…”

Freya listened intently as Balin told the tale of Azanulbizar, and how many had fallen. She could practically see the battlefield, the dwarves charging, determination in their eyes, even as they fell.

As Balin finished his story, Bilbo frowned.

“But what about the pale orc?” He asked, referring to the foe who had slain Thorin’s grandfather, and whose hand Thorin had taken. “What happened to him?”

“He slunk back to the hole from whence he came.” Thorin growled, entering the light of the campfire. “That filth died of his wounds long ago.”

Freya saw Balin and Gandalf glance at each other as though they thought otherwise.

“It must have been hard.” She murmured. “Losing everything so quickly. Like a downward spiral you can’t seem to escape from.”

She saw the Dwarf King staring at her as though in surprise.

“I’m sorry.” She told him. “No one deserves to lose their family.”

Thorin’s turned his back to her.

“I do not need your sympathy.” He growled.

“Maybe not.” Freya said, “But I’m giving it to you anyway. I know what it’s like to lose a parent.”

And with that, she went to bed.

Chapter Text

Normally, Freya loved the rain. She loved the sound of it pattering on her window, and the smell of it hanging in the air.

Right now, however, Freya hated the rain with a burning passion. That tended to happen when you were stuck outside and it started pouring buckets.

Up ahead, Dori was complaining.

“Here, Mr. Gandalf? Can’t you do something about this deluge?”

Gandalf, who was somewhat protected by his wide rimmed hat, scowled in response.

“It is raining, master dwarf. And it will continue to rain until the rain is done! If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.”

“Are there any?” Bilbo asked.

“Any what?” Gandalf asked

“Other wizards.” Bilbo clarified.

The Grey Wizard sat straighter.

“There are five us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, The White. Then there are the two blue wizards.”

He hummed in thought.

“Do you know, I’ve quite forgotten their names. Funny how time does that.”

“How could you have forgotten their names?” Freya asked.

“I knew them, once.” Gandalf’s eyes were far away, “After the war of the ring in the first age, they traveled east. I haven’t heard from them since.”

Freya nodded. She had gotten out of touch with her fair share of friends.

“That was only four.” Bilbo pointed out. “Who’s the fifth?”

“Well, that would be Radagast, The Brown.”

“Is he a great wizard?” Bilbo asked, “Or is he more like you?”

Freya snorted.

Gandalf looked offended.

“I think he’s a very great wizard, in his own way. He’s a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forestlands to the East, and a good thing too, for always evil will look to find a foothold in this world.”

Freya fell back and found her horse at a trot between the two youngest Durins.

“So Miss Nelson,” Fili began.

“Freya.”

“Freya. We realized we’ve asked you lots of questions about your world, but none about you.”

Kili nodded, and continued his brothers train of thought.

“So we were wondering if you could tell us about yourself?”

“Oh.” Freya said. “Alright.”

She frowned in thought.

“Where should I start?” She asked.

“From the beginning.” Nori said from in front of her.

“Ok. Let’s see, I was born in 1999 in Provo, Utah to Phillip and Joanne Nelson. When I was seven years old, we moved to New York City. Hell’s Kitchen to be precise.”

Behind her, she heard Ori scribbling in his notebook.

“We couldn’t afford an apartment,” Freya continued, “so we stayed with my uncle Edward and aunt Anna. They had a son close to my age. His name was Franklin, but we called him Foggy, and for a long time he was my only friend.”

“Wait-“ Kili interrupted, “What’s an apartment?”

“And why couldn’t you afford one?” Fili queried.

“My dad left when I was six years old.” Freya explained numbly. “We had no way to support ourselves.”

There was a collective gasp from all the dwarrow listening.

“Your father left !?” Dwalin looked outraged.

“Well yeah. In my world it’s an unfortunate occurrence. Foggy’s real mom left when he was just a baby. Anna was just his step-mom.”

“His father remarried?” Balin asked.

“Yeah.”

The white haired dwarf frowned and appeared as though he wanted to make a comment but he stopped himself.

“Why did your father leave?” Kili questioned, “if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t know.” Freya responded. “I don’t think my mom did either. All I remember is waking up one morning to find that he was gone.”

She really didn’t want to talk about it, and Balin seemed to sense that she was uncomfortable.

“Go on with your story lass.” He said.

Freya smiled at him gratefully.

“Right. So like I said, for a long time, Foggy was my only friend. My best friend in fact. I was the first person he came out as gay to, and I supported him when he told his parents. He was the person I went to when my depression got really bad, and he always knew what to do to make me laugh. When I was twelve years old, he brought home a friend named Matt, and together we wreaked havoc on the neighborhood.”

She smiled in remembrance.

“We were quite the trio. No one ever would have believed that blind Matt Murdock and shy Freya Nelson would team up with the biggest trouble maker in Hell’s Kitchen but there we were.”

“What kind of things did you do?” Kili asked.

“Oh nuh-uh. I am not giving you any more ideas for pranks. Your uncle would kill me.”

From up ahead, Thorin grunted his agreement.

“Wait a minute-“ Nori interrupted, “you say this Matt was blind?”

Freya gave him a look.

“Didn’t stop him from becoming one of the most venerated lawyers of Hell’s Kitchen. Can I continue my story?”

There were murmurs of agreement throughout the company. Even Thorin seemed to be listening.

“Good.” Freya said, “because this is when it gets interesting.”

She sat up straighter on her pony.

“When I was thirteen, New York got attacked by some kind of weird-ass monsters. They poured out of this weird hole in the sky and practically decimated Hell’s Kitchen. A lot of people died. Luckily, some weird organization gathered a bunch of heroes and one alien, who managed to save the world from said aliens brother, who was being mind controlled by a purple-ass raisin in space with a weird rock. Got it?”

Half the dwarves shook their heads.

“Me neither.” Freya admitted. “All I know is that Tony Stark flew a nuke through the hole in the sky and blew up their base. A nuke is kind of like a really destructive missile.” She explained. She had told them about missiles yesterday.

“Oh.” Ori said, nodding his head.

“Right.” Freya said, and took a deep breath. “My mother died that day, and I almost did too. I was saved by the hero they call Hawkeye. After that, I was officially adopted by my aunt and uncle.”

“Lass-“ Bofur began, but Freya cut him off.

“I don’t need you to feel bad for me.” She said, “I got enough of that from Foggy and my therapist. We are not going there.”

She paused and rubbed at the bracelet dangling from her wrist.

“After the battle of New York, my life is mostly a blur.” She confessed. “I went through school, hung around a lot of Gen Z kids, and no, I am not explaining that concept right now. Suffice it to say they changed my outlook on life drastically. Ummm… I got a scholarship to the New York University of Scientology, where I majored in chemistry and minored in various other things. I got my degree, then went back to get another one in creative writing. When the world got dusted, I stayed behind. I got to go to a support group with Foggy where we met Captain freaking America. That was cool. We lost Matt to the dusting so that kind of sucked. Then the Avengers kicked Thanoses ass and brought back all the dusted people. Life went back to normal. Until I got mugged, saved by Spider-Man, and yeeted into this world and landed right at Bilbos big hairy feet. Now here I am, two years later, on a quest with you. Any questions?”

There were lots of questions.

It took a solid hour to explain the concept of aliens to them, and another hour to explain the dusting.

Then Dwalin wanted to know why they had a superhero named after a country.

Suffice it to say, it took awhile to explain everything.

——

Two days later they stopped near an abandoned building.

“We’ll camp here for the night.” Thorin said, “Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them.”

Gandalf, meanwhile, gazed around at the ruined house.

“A farmer and his family used to live here.” He said.

Freya kicked an old plow. It wasn’t even rusted.

“Gandalf.” She said, “I think whatever happened to these people, happened recently.”

Gandalf came and looked at the instrument.

“That means that whatever caused their demise might still be around.” He mused.

Meanwhile, Thorin was telling Oin and Gloin to light a fire.

Freya looked at Gandalf, who nodded, before addressing the exiled king.

“I think it would be wiser to move on.” He said, leaning on his staff. “We could make for the hidden valley.”

Thorin scowled.

“I’ve told you already. I will not go near that place.”

“Why not? The Elves could help us, we could get food, rest, advice.”

“Food is good.” Freya murmured, still inspecting the plow.

If possible, Thorin’s scowl deepened.

“I do not need their advice.” He growled.

“We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us.”

“Help? A dragon attacks Erebor. What help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing! You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father.”

“You are neither of them!” Gandalf cried. “I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past!”

“I did not know they were yours to keep!”

Freya watched as Gandalf, clearly frustrated, turned and stalked off.

“Everything alright?” She heard Bilbo, “Gandalf, where are you going?”

“To seek the company of the only one around here who’s got any sense.”

“And who’s that?” Bilbo asked.

“Myself Master Baggins!” Gandalf thundered, before turning away. “I’ve had enough of dwarves for one day.” And with that, he left the campsite.

“Is he coming back?” She heard Bilbo ask.

——

“He’s been a long time.” Bilbo muttered.

Freya looked up from her soup.

“Who?”

“Gandalf!”

“Oh.” She went back to eating.

“He’s a wizard! Bofur said, “He does as he chooses.”

“I think he’s a bit like Sheikh.” Freya said, downing the last of her soup. “She’s Tony Starks adopted daughter.” She said in response to Bofurs curious glance. “They say she jumps through universes and she always seems to show up at just the right time.”

Bofur nodded thoughtfully.

“You may be right. Here.” He handed her and Bilbo a bowl of soup each. “Do is a favor? Take these to the lads.” He gestured to where Fili and Kili were guarding the ponies.

Freya snapped a salute and took the bowl over towards the boys, Bilbo trailing behind her. She didn’t miss the look Bilbo threw back at the hatted dwarf.

Her matchmaking trail of thought was cut off by the look on Fili and Kilis faces.

“What’s the matter?” Bilbo asked.

“We’re supposed to be looking after the ponies.” Kili said.

“Only we’ve encountered a slight problem.” Fili continued.

“We had sixteen.”

“Now there’s fourteen.”

Freya set her bowl down on a nearby tree and rubbed her temples.

“Daisy and Bungo are missing.” Kili said, unhelpfully.

“What? Well, that’s not good. That is not good at all. Shouldn’t we tell Thorin?”

The two younger dwarves glanced at each other.

“Uh…no. Let’s not worry him. As our official burglar, we thought you might like to look into it.”

“Well, uh…it looks as if something big uprooted these trees.”

“That was our thinking.”

“It’s something very big, and possibly quite dangerous.”

“Hey! There’s a light!” Fili said, and ran over to inspect it.

Freya groaned and followed.

In hindsight, she really shouldn’t have.

Chapter Text

In the incident that followed, Freya came to three conclusions.

One, Trolls were quite possibly even more terrible than the chitauri. They definitely smelled worse.

Two, a wizard was no use to you unless he was actually there for the crisis.

And three, while her adoptive brother was good in a tight situation, trolls were a bit too dumb for the basic stalling techniques to work.

She let out an impressive stream of swears as Bilbo and the trolls argued over the proper way to eat her newest friends.

“What do you know about cooking dwarf?” One of them asked.

“Shut up,” another one said, “Let the…uh, flurgerburbur-hobbit talk.”

“Thank you.” Bilbo said. “Now uh…the-the secret to cooking dwarf, is um…”

“Yes? Come on.”

“Yes yes, I’m getting there. The secret is…to…skin them first!”

The dwarves began yelling and shouting.

“I won’t forget that!” Dwalin yelled.

“Tom.” Said one troll, “Get me filleting knife.”

“What a load of rubbish!” Said another troll. “I’ve eaten plenty with their skins on. Scarf ‘em I say!”

Unfortunately, Tom agreed.

“He’s right! Nothing wrong with a bit o’ raw dwarf.” He moved to pick up Bombur and, panicked, Freya called out.

“Not that one he’s infected!”

“You what?”

“Yes he is!” Bilbo agreed. “He’s got worms in his tubes!”

Tom yelled in disgust and threw Bombur down.

Freya saw a chance and took it.

“In fact, we all do. We are riddled with parasites. It’s a nasty business, I wouldn’t risk eating us. In fact, I’m pretty sure Bilbo here is poisonous.”

Bilbo nodded enthusiastically.

The dwarves, for once in their lives, were agreeable with the plan. That is, after Thorin kicked his nephews in the shin.

“What would you have us do then?” One of trolls asked, “Let them all go?”

“Well I wouldn’t exactly recommend eating us.” Freya said, rolling her eyes. “Unless you wanna die. Like me.”

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to.” The chef turned to his friends. “This little ferret is taking us for fools!”

“Ferret?” Freya said, briefly confused.

“Fools?” Tom looked a little confused as well.

“The dawn will take you all!” Came a voice.

“Hey look, it’s the wizard!” Freya said.

“Who’s that?”

“No idea.”

“I literally just told y’all. He’s the wizard.” Freya said, exasperated. “Honestly.”

“Well can we eat him too?” Tom asked her.

“Nah he’s even more poisonous than Bilbo is.”

With that, Gandalf slammed his staff on the rock he stood on, and sunlight streamed into the clearing, turning the trolls to stone.

“Nice of you to show up.” Freya said. “Now get me out of this sack.”

——

It took a while, but they finally got everyone freed from their various prisons.

Thorin approached the wizard, Freya close behind.

“Where did you go to if I may ask?”

“To look ahead.” The wizard replied.

“And what brought you back?”

“Looking behind. Nasty business. Still, they are all in one piece.”

“No thanks to you.” Thorin heard Freya say, somewhat angrily. He turned and saw her violet eyes flashing. Her hair had fallen out of her braid, and her face was smeared with dirt and a bit of blood. His heart, for reasons unknown, skipped a beat at the sight of her.

“This had better not become a normal thing.” The blonde continued, “We could have died.”

“My dear Freya. I would not have left if I had known.”

“Listen here Dumbledore. You are a wizard. It’s kinda your job to know about this stuff!”

Thorin wondered briefly why she was calling him that, before artfully turning the conversation.

“Where did they come from?” He asked.

“If I had to make a guess, it would be the Ettenmoors.”

“Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?”

“Oh not for an age.” Tharkûn said, “Not since a darker power ruled these lands.”

“Isn’t that lovely.” Freya said. “We got attacked by some out of season beasties.”

The Grey Wizard ignored her.

“They could not have moved in daylight.” He told Thorin.

“Unless they had umbrellas.” Freya interjected.

“There must be a cave nearby.” Thorin realized.

——

Freya watched with amusement as the dwarves raided the troll hoard.

“Seems a shame just to leave it lying around.” Bofur said, upon seeing all the treasures. “Anyone could take it.”

“Agreed.” Said Gloin. “Nori, get a shovel!”

Freya smiled at their antics and ventured further into the cave, where Thorin and Gandalf were examining some weapons.

“These swords were not made by any troll.” Thorin said, pulling one out of its place and handing it to Gandalf.

“Nor were they made by any smith among men.” The wizard pulled the blade out of its sheath and examined it.

“These were forged in Gondolin, by the High Elves, of the First Age. You could not wish for a finer blade.” Upon seeing Freya, who was watching with interest, he handed the sword to her.

She took it, and turned it over in her hand.

It was short and thin, with a leaf shaped blade and a leather wrapped handle that fit her hand comfortably. It felt incredibly balanced in her hand.

“I don’t really know that much about swords,” she confessed, “but I kinda like this one. It’s easier to hold than Fili’s. Do you mind if I keep it?”

Thorin nodded and waved her away.

Freya left the cave with her new sword buckled to her jeans.

——

Bilbo was relaxing outside the cave watching Bofur when Gandalf approached him.

“Bilbo.”

“Hmm?”

The Grey Wizard handed him a sword.

“Here. This should be about your size.”

“I-I can’t take this.” Bilbo stuttered, trying to hand the weapon back to the wizard.

“The blade is of Elvish make, which means it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby.”

“I have never used a sword in my life!” Bilbo protested.

“And I hope you never have to.” The wizard responded. “But if you do, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one.”

Before Bilbo could protest, there was a cry.

“Something’s coming!” Thorin yelled.

Across the clearing, he saw Freya ready a sword that looked similar to his, though a little larger. Next to her, Bofur raised his mattock.

And then something came out of the bushes.

——

As soon as they exited the cave, Freya approached Bofur.

“Bofur.” She said.

“Yes lass? What do ya need?”

Freya didn’t beat around the bush.

“You like my brother don’t you?”

“I-I- what makes you say that?”

Freya rolled her eyes.

“You look at him like he’s worth more than the sun and the moon combined.” Freya said, “honestly, it’s a little obvious.”

“Is it really?” Bofur asked nervously, shooting a glance to where Gandalf was presenting Bilbo with some kind of dagger.

“It is. Listen Bofur, I’m pretty sure he likes you too.”

Bofurs eyes lit up.

“You really think so!?”

“Oh yeah, he’s pretty much head over heels. Here’s the deal though,”She turned to face Bofur again, looking straight up into his eyes. “If you hurt him, physically, mentally, or spiritually, I won’t hold back.”

“You’ll maim me?” Bofur looked terrified.

Freya laughed. “Oh no. They won’t find your body . There’s a reason we call this the shovel talk. I’ve only got the one brother.”

Bofur nodded and opened his mouth to respond but before he could, there was a shout from Thorin.

“Somethings coming!”

Chapter Text

Aspyne let out a long suffering sigh as the dice came to a stop.

“Three.” She groaned.

“Well doll, you can make it into the study.” Bucky said, next to her.

“I was just in the study James. I’m trying to get to the dining room.”

She huffed and moved her allotted amount of spaces before slumping onto Bucky’s shoulder. He chuckled and placed a kiss on top of her head before turning to the brunette next to him.

“Your turn Stark.”

Tony cackled as he rolled a twelve, and moved his character into the basement.

“Scarlet, dagger, dining room.” He said, triumphantly.

Everyone turned to Vision, who held the cards.

“Correct.” The android said.

Wanda threw down her cards. “You are a cheater.” She told Tony.

The billionaire held up his hands in surrender.

“Hey it’s not my fault I’m amazing at this game.”

“You aren’t amazing.” Pietro called from the kitchen.

“I beg to differ.”

“Then beg.” Clint swung into the room from the vent, and helped Steve pick up the game.

Aspyne heard a knocking sound and turned to see a certain vigilante hanging on the window.

“Friday?” She called.

“Yes Miss.”

“Let Peter in will you?”

“Very well miss.”

The teen stumbled into the room through the window.

“Mister Stark!” He wheezed, clearly out of breath. “I didn’t- she just- there was this lady and-“

“Kid.” Tony placed a hand on Peters shoulder. “Take a deep breath. What is it?”

“She fell through a hole!” Peter cried.

“Who fell?” Natasha asked, entering the room.

Aspyne and Bucky exchanged looks.

“A lady!” Peter said. “I was saving her from a mugger but she tripped and this hole opened up and she fell through! I tried to go after her but it closed!”

Pietro entered the room with a bag of chips and Tony shot him a look.

“You haven’t started exhibiting Barry Allen tendencies have you speedy?”

Pietro blinked. “What?”

“I understood that reference.” Steve said, putting the lid on the box of the clue game. “And that’s not how Barry’s powers work Tony.”

“What did the hole look like?” Bruce asked, placing the box into the game cupboard before pulling out a stack of uno cards.

“It had like a blue outline, and on the inside there was this forest. Aren’t you going to do something about it?”

Clint snatched the Uno deck from Bruce and started dealing out cards.

“Of course.” Bruce said.

At the same time, Clint opened his mouth. “I’m retired. Besides, technically, that’s Sheikhs job.” He tossed the box onto the table.

Sheikh, who was sitting in the corner on her phone, glanced up and shot Clint the bird.

“First off, I’m calling bullshit. You’ve never retired for more than a month in your life. Second, I refuse to do this alone, last time several things blew up, and North here is still recovering.”

Next to her, the blonde nodded, and turned her attention back to her book.

Sheikh then turned to Peter, and raised her eyebrow. “What did the lady look like?”

“Blond hair, a little curly, some freckles, and violet eyes.” Peter rattled off.

Aspyne saw both North and Clint’s faces go pale.

“What was she wearing?” North signed.

“A hoodie.” Peter said. “Light blue. It said something on the back. Uhhh ‘BWHDWS club’ I think.”

Clints face grew even paler.

“Freya.” He said.

“Barton? Do you know this girl?”

Clint nodded.

“That’s why she didn’t show up.” North signed to him.

“Show up to what?” Pietro asked.

“We’re in a club.” Clint explained. “That’s where the hoodies came from. Danny paid for them.”

“Who’s in the club?” Aspyne asked.

Clint frowned.

“Uh, let’s see, there’s me, North, Karen, Foggy, Annabeth, Danny, and Freya. Daisy and Sharon come every once and a while.”

“What exactly is this club?” Tony asked.

“The Blondes Who Have to Deal With Shit club.” Clint answered matter of factly. “We were supposed to meet today to watch supernatural and bitch about stuff.”

“Language.” Steve said irritability.

“We canceled it because no one could get a hold of Freya.” North signed. “The meeting was supposed to be at her dorm. We assumed she was just out. Freya was never the type to let people know about her plans. She is very forgetful.”

“What’s her full name?” Natasha asked.

“Freya Nelson.” North signed.

“Friday.” Aspyne said, “Give me all the information you can find on Freya Nelson.”

“Searching…”

A file popped up in front of Aspynes face and she scrolled through it.

“Damn.” She said. “Bruce if I didn’t know better I’d say this girl was related to you. She got her doctorate in a year and a half.”

“What did she get it in?” Bruce asked, coming to stand behind her.

“Chemistry.” Aspyne said. “She minored in Biology, and History too. She’s a regular genius.”

Tony frowned.

“Okay.” He said, “I just have one question. How come I’m not in your club!?”

“You are the shit we have to deal with.” Clint said, before turning to Sheikh. “We need to find her.” He said. “Foggy will kill us if we don’t.”

Sheikh, seeming to sense the gravity of the situation, nodded curtly.

“Dad, Nat, and Bruce. Suit up. Clint, go grab Loki. We might need his expertise in magic.” She stood up. “I think it’s time to pay old Stephan a visit.”