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Chapter Text

#1 - Bilbo's POV:

In all my days, I don’t think I have ever had such a ridiculous, stressful, and downright preposterous day. I am a respectable hobbit, when my neighbors describe me or talk about me the biggest complaints they tend to have is that I’m not the most social, or that I haven’t taken a wife yet, let alone children. Old Mrs. Diggle in the homely hobbit hole with a lovely red door down the road is positively beside herself that she might not live long enough to see me wed but that’s quite besides the point. When people hear Bilbo Baggins they don’t think miscreant or rascal, at least not anymore, maybe when I was a tiny tot they did but I am my mother’s son after all, what would they really expect. But now, I just like to enjoy my warm home, my delicious food, my books and maps, and the occasional talk with the farmers and merchants in the market on my regular restock. And my pipe, Longbottom Leaf truly is a divine creation. Peaceful, quiet, lovely. A solitary, but happy life. Exactly the type of life I decided to live, as a respectable Baggins.

Of course, like some days, nothing quite seemed to be going my way. But normal bad days in the Shire consist of food spoiling before eating it, the sun waking you up earlier than you wished, having to engage in a polite conversation with a hobbit you dislike but of course you would never admit it to anyone because that would be most rude indeed, or, in my particular case, Mrs. Diggle badgering me for an hour on my way home about finding a wife and desperately attempting yet again to set me up with her unwed granddaughter. Unfortunately for her, in her old age she seems to have forgotten that her unwed granddaughter is in fact her unwed grandson, and personally, I’m not even looking for a spouse, but if I was I would not be hunting for a husband. He is a lovely chap though, quite a brilliant gardener. Lovely peonies he grows. But once again besides the point, the normal bad day in the Shire would have been a dream to me on this day.

First, while out on my lovely bench smoking my pipe, enjoying the lovely sunny day underneath the blue sky, I get approached by a very tall old man, dressed all in gray with a pointy hat and a staff. A wizard. I recognized him from somewhere but I didn’t quite remember so I said my ‘good morning’ and hoped he would go about with his wandering as wizards tend to do, at least as far as I’ve read in my books. But he didn’t, and spun me around in circles with riddles merely due to my polite greeting, as any respectable hobbit would do. He eventually reintroduced himself, Gandalf is his name, and I finally remembered the wizard of my childhood who would always magically appear on Midsummer’s Eve, displaying brilliant fireworks of butterflies and dragons and fairies. Happily entrenched in my memories, he then took it upon himself to scold me for becoming a respectable hobbit, my father would be rolling over in his grave, and then announced that I would ‘go on an adventure with him’ and that ‘it would be very good for me and amusing for him’. Me? Mr. Baggins? An adventurer? Sure I love the stories, but wouldn’t choose to go on one myself! I love my home, my maps, and my garden. I love the comfort and safety of the Shire. That comfort does not extend far beyond our borders, I know that well. It’s why we hobbits don’t tend to stray far, except for the not-so-respectable ones of course. And sure, maybe when I was a younger man I had a secret desire to run off into the beyond, save the world, fight in grand battles, and maybe be able to read a tale written of my own heroic deeds, but I have long since refused that pointless dream. I have snuffed it out, stamped it down, hidden it deeply in a shaded corner of my mind, not to see the light of day again. So, as any good hobbit in my position would do, I refused him, and wished him yet another good morning.

But, despite my efforts, he seemed hell bent on me coming with him. He even followed me up to peek in through my window, it was quite a fright to see one massive eyeball staring at me into my own home. I heard something strange a little later, almost like a ringing tingle, but brushed it aside. After all, Miss Dewfoot on my left has recently gotten into the hobby of crafting quite intricate windchimes. I figured one of her new creations just had a unique sound to it. I was a foolish hobbit in that assumption. But I continued about my day, determined to not let that strange encounter bog down the rest of my day. I got frightened by a precarious and highly impractical stack of baskets and pillows in the market though, and realized it was likely time for me to just hide out and await a new day. But of course, nothing on this day could possibly go my way, could it. And just as night fell, my doorbell rang. A guest, did I invite someone and forget to mark it down? I doubt it, I don’t forget guests since I so rarely invite people over anyway. But I figured my neighbors had baked something lovely and decided to graciously give me some of it as dessert. They tend to do so anyway. But, it was not.

A dwarf. A tall, bald dwarf, with thick arms and thicker beard, and runic tattoos all over his arms and head. Two huge axes strapped across his back, and an even larger hammer being used as a walking stick (why not just use a walking stick?!), and a peak of what I could only assume to be wolf or coyote fur on his collar. His hands bore iron chains and hunks of metal that jutted out in uncomfortable ways. I could only assume they were also weaponry of some cruel fashion, although I did not want to ask. In a thick accent he stated “Dwalin, at your service” with a curt bow. Desperate not to lose my dignity as a host, I rapidly tied my bathrobe together, greeting him in a similar fashion, though asking what was really pressing to me. “Do we know each other?” To which, not to my surprise, he answered “no.” Although he did still push his way past me into my house, shrugging his cloak off onto the floor and chucking his weaponry against my lovely wood paneling, ugh just the thought makes me cringe. And not to mention he made not a single move to remove his muddy traveling boots, and tracked god knows what all around my house, and then promptly demanded food, to which I, desperately trying to be a good host despite my endless confusion, gave up my own meal. I really wanted to eat that fish. And then he proceeded to ask for more! More?! You ate my whole dinner!

Just when I was about to fetch him more food, because he was a guest, unwanted or not, the bell rang again. I prayed for some relief, an explanation as to why I have a scary dwarf in my kitchen, but no. I opened it, and was greeted by yet another dwarf, although he was far less intimidating. A long nose, very long white beard, rich red traveling robes, and a kindly voice. He reminded me of the old men who love to fish together, very grandfatherly in nature. “Balin, at your service!” He bowed, much more willingly than the other dwarf I might add. In my confusion I forgot some of my manners and just murmured, “good evening” to which he agreed and then proceeded to ask if he was late. In my, once again, very confused state, I asked what he was worried about being late for, but he then pushed inside once seeing the other dwarf rattling around the knick knacks on my mantle, laughing and greeting his brother. I never would have guessed. Well, the rhyming names. But other than that I never would have guessed.

The both of them then proceeded to raid my pantry, the bald dwarf, (Dwalin, was it?) choosing to throw some of my lovely Stilton over his shoulder, saying it was moldy. (it’s blue cheese, you uncultured man, of course it’s moldy!) I, through their muttering, chose to ask them, in summary, why they were here, uninvited, and how I didn’t understand why they were here, and how I would like them to leave since they were complete strangers to me, and proceeded to apologize. The white haired dwarf then chose to only acknowledge, and then accept, my apology, and went back to whatever he and his brother had been doing before. And then, much to my fear, the bell for the door rang. Again.

Two young dwarves, one with golden hair, one with dark brown hair and only a stubble, greeted me then. Fili and Kili, those two were called, likely brothers as well, I presumed. At least if my previous two ‘guests’ were anything to go by. Kili at least seemed to know who he was looking for, although he didn’t get it quite right. He called me ‘Mr. Boggins’ with the brightest twinkle in his eye and a carefree smile. I almost didn’t want to correct the lad, but I was so frustrated I tried to shut my door on them, but was quickly overpowered by the very superior strength the two of them possessed. Whatever positive feelings I had for the both of them were quickly snuffed out when they also barged into my home like they owned the place after I had apparently reassured them that whatever ‘event’ they came for was not canceled, although the host was apparently unaware of such an event even occurring in the first place. Fili then proceeded to toss me an entire armful of sharpened blades of various deadly shapes and sizes, like I, a gentlehobbit, would know what to do with such things, and his brother scraped his boots off on my mother’s glorybox. They proceeded to join the other two in loading up my dining table with much of what my pantry had to offer, with Balin saying ‘We’ll have to squeeze to fit everyone in’ or something to that meaning. My distress was sending my mind reeling off at this point to be quite honest. But then, of course, the bell just had to ring again. And this time, I was greeted with not just one or two dwarves, but with eight. Eight more dwarves, I could barely handle half that. No, I couldn’t handle half that at all, I couldn’t even handle one. And, of course, towering outside my lovely, albeit now disheveled home, was a sheepish Gandalf. Although in the proceeding moments not sheepish enough to apologize, or even acknowledge that something was very, entirely, intrinsically wrong with this situation.

Then, in a whirlwind of distress, all on my part mind you, I saw my entire pantry get ransacked, precious furniture and keepsakes from my ancestral hobbits get used inappropriately and without care, my bowls, plates, and cutlery getting juggled around by various dwarves while they were singing without a care in the world like they were an act at the Green Dragon, (although, they did do a smashing job at cleaning and organizing everything, I just didn’t wish to admit it. My hospitality had run dry at this point.) then had to greet yet another dwarf, who intimidated me even more than the first. He was clearly quite strong, broad shoulders, strong gaze. Dark hair streaked with the occasional bit of silver, but not in a way that made him seem old, but dignified. Sophisticated. He wore a deep navy, somehow richer than the now very dark night sky behind him. His eyes were a piercing pale blue, and his voice was deep and rich. It was clear as day he was nobility of some kind, maybe even royal, just by how he carried himself. I got my hopes up thinking that, because of this, he may be a gentleman, but he then entered my home, greeting Gandalf first rather than I, the master of the house, and then proceeded to look down on me for not being a burglar. Now, I may not know much about the idiosyncrasies of dwarven culture but I have never heard of a single culture where being a thief was the better option. Except if you were an even more dastardly criminal, of course. But for a respectable profession, never was ‘thief’ preferred. But this lot laughed after the noble dwarf’s confusing barb, like it was common knowledge. I have never been more perplexed and strangely insulted in all my life. Although I did appreciate him only taking a small bowl of soup from what I had managed to ferret away for myself, I would have wagered all my possessions that any of the others would’ve drunk straight from the pot. He at least had some decency about him.

As I tried my best to enjoy my small bowl of soup, I heard the dwarves chatter about a quest. Reclaiming a homeland, needing a burglar, something about other dwarf clans not joining them. At this point I couldn’t really give a hoot. I needed sustenance. Desperately. And polite company. Actually, no company. That would be the best option. But then I heard something about a beast. They proceeded to tell me the beast was, in fact, a massive fire breathing dragon. And that they wanted to find a way to enter the city that now served as its lair, steal some all powerful gem from underneath its nose, and then kill it. Somehow. And then, when I did my best to react as any person would, generally wishing them luck and hoping that I had a brilliant thief with them to do such a task, I got asked if I was a brilliant thief. I thought we had already established that, refused, and then got promptly ignored. Gandalf, for some reason, vouched for me despite my desperate, and correct, attempts to refute the accusations. I got unceremoniously handed a contract that unfurled to be the same height as myself. By this point, Gandalf had seemed to get a bit antsy in his corner. Tapping his foot, bouncing a leg, generally a ball of anxious energy. Like he was still waiting for someone. But the dwarves seemed perfectly content, not awaiting anyone else. The noble dwarf had been the last to arrive, a group of 13. So it’s not like they were still held up for someone, maybe Gandalf decided to rope another poor soul into this mess? Or he’s just anxious for decisions to be made and for the quest to begin.

My musings were quickly rectified when my doorbell rang yet again. I would have to ask Miss Dewfoot for one of her chimes tomorrow to replace my doorbell. After this dreadful day I will likely get heart palpitations anytime I hear it ring. I made to approach the door, but Gandalf quickly stood, instructing me to continue reading the only more concerning and treacherous sounding contract, and went to get the door himself. The leader turned around in his chair, meeting my eyes. “Were you expecting more guests on this night, Master Grocer?” I shook my head, sending him a worn smile, happily taking the opportunity to send back a pointed “I was expecting no guests on this night, Master dwarf.” A spark of something flashed in his eyes, whether displeasure of amusement I couldn’t quite tell, but in the rare lull of noise, I heard Gandalf’s voice exclaim “Ah, you’ve finally made it, dear friend!” The dwarves exchanged glances of confusion, slowly standing, and I, trying to keep myself together as a respectable hobbit, set about preparing to greet my 15th uninvited guest of this very long, very bad, beautiful evening.

Chapter Text

#2 - Aria's POV

I rang the doorbell gently after arriving at the lovely green door in the Shire. I had received some strange looks from the few hobbits still outside on this lovely balmy evening, not surprising due to being a tall human (ish) woman dressed in clothes not typically worn by women in any part of this world at all. Also, colorful hair dyes do not seem to have been invented yet, so I’m sure the waves of light pink hair cascading to my shoulders made quite a sight for them. But hobbits being as hobbits are, they wished me a tentative good evening and let me carry on with my exploring. Out of the door came my old friend, Gandalf, who I had journeyed with back in our past, although in this world it is technically the future. “Ah, you’ve finally made it, dear friend!” He said joyfully, carefully making his way out of the hobbit hole and standing at his full height, sighing in relief as he cracked his back before happily wrapping me in a warm hug. “It is lovely to see you again, Mithrandir, although I must admit it is rather strange seeing you in gray rather than white.” I said with a playful laugh, happily returning his hug. I heard a rush of murmurs after my voice, I’d guess the company Gandalf was keeping was not expecting a woman as a guest. “Come on, dear, come inside. You’ve been traveling quite a long way I’m sure.” I tried my best to follow him into the room that was clearly not built for anyone taller than 5’0. I, standing at 5’8, not counting the 3 additional inches added from my platform boots, quickly found it difficult to meander my way through the low ceilings without getting a crick in my back. “Oh Jesus, absolutely not. I am so not doing this to myself right now. Gandalf, do you want me to shrink you? Your back is likely no better than it was before, friend.” He turned back to me, incredulous, watching as I proceeded to shrink by a foot. “Yes, that is probably wise. It would be nice for me to traverse Hobbiton without having to visit a healer to reset my spine for once.” I laughed, taking his hand, shrinking him to 4’11” from his previous 5’11”. He still had to remove his hat, but it was a very small loss.

I looked around Gandalf’s form to see a crowd of very confused looking dwarven men, all muttering to themselves various things like, “A lady?” “She’s a pretty lookin’ lass” “Her hair’s pink” “What’s with her clothes?” and, much to my amusement, a very confused young dwarf with a bowl cut and purple yarn braided into his hair repeatedly murmuring, “Who’s Jesus?” Stifling a laugh, I met eyes with a very drained, very confused, and very very exasperated young hobbit man. A man I myself had met before, although he was much older. Bilbo Baggins, the master of the house. He slowly crept up towards Gandalf and I, bowing slightly in greeting, introducing himself. I reached out my hands, gently clasping his in a greeting of my own, proceeding to introduce myself in turn. I noticed the dwarves quickly quieted down to hear as well. “A pleasure to meet you, Master Baggins. My name is Aria, I’m an old friend of Gandalf’s. I apologize for dropping by unannounced, and especially at such a late hour. Is there a place where I could set my coat and boots?” Bilbo’s face proceeded to crack a relieved smile, quietly, and likely accidentally, sighing out, “Finally, a person with manners” before snapping out of his bliss and guiding me to the coatrack and a mat for my boots. Some rueful grumbles emerged from the company, likely some of the more noble dwarves, realizing in all the hubbub they had forgotten their manners as well, but all seemed to figure it too late to make any real amends.

I settled in the chair by the fire, quickly unclasping the many buckles of my knee high boots with practiced efficiency, listening to one of the dwarves, an older gentleman with a long, forked white beard, as he asked me a question. “Are you a practiced mage lass? That spell you cast on yourself and Gandalf seemed like nothing to you.” I smiled, conjuring a pair of fluffy slippers to wear around the house as I stood to place my boots down. “I am many things, Master Dwarf. But yes, a practiced mage is one of them. Although I tend towards calling myself a soldier more than anything else. Magic is just one of my many skills in a fight.” A swell of murmurs at my words rose up from the dwarves once again, Bilbo seemingly awed more than anything else. A different dwarf, leaning on the archway towards the back with crossed arms and a doubtful expression on his stern, scarred face piped up, “A soldier is quite the title to award yourself lass.” I wasn’t quite sure if he was doubtful of me due to the age I seemed to be, appearing around 18-20, or if it was because I was a woman. I know dwarves cherish their dwarrowdams quite a lot, since there are so few, and wouldn’t dream of having them on the battlefield. Not due to lack of strength, but due to how important they were, the few they had could not be lost. Although many likely toil away in mines alongside the male dwarves, most have acted as merchants, vendors, or as stay-at-home wives and courtly ladies, few even desiring to pick up a war-hammer once, let alone routinely. That’s why I let the comment roll off my back. They’re not accustomed to fighting women. But I knew a way to quickly quiet them all.

Not saying a word, but adjusting myself around the coat rack so my entire back would face the dwarves, I unzipped my techwear coat with all the various impractical straps and buckles, and pushed it off of my shoulders. I had, despite my strength, maintained a fairly slender, curvy figure. My muscles were defined, but not bulging, likely due to my more…special qualities of my existence. But what I knew would quiet the murmurs were the endless streaks of scars lashing my body. Above the waist I wore nothing but a black racerback bra, the most comfortable thing for me to wear given the state of my shoulder blades due to a special adaptation I possess. An old burn stretched the swath of my back. Pockmarks from arrows and bullets peppered my shoulders and sides. Long, deep cuts from blades curved around my body. Some encircled my entire waist, hip, even chest. I had rings of various wobbly lines from where entire sections of my body had been taken out by some cruel and vicious manner. My arms bore similar scarring, but the ring scars encircled almost every inch of them. Some at my wrist, some all the way at my shoulder. Not the scarring anyone other than a soldier would receive, and someone who had been fighting in bloody wars for many, many, many years. Someone precisely like me. However, a kerfuffle quickly arose when one old dwarf with a wooly gray beard and a trumpet jammed desperately into his ear shoved his way to the front and desperately started digging for something in his bag, yelling “Lass yer shoulder blades are mauled to bits! I have medicine that should alleviate some of the pain, oh and bandages, yes many bandages, how are you even movin’ yer arms in such a state those cuts are so deep! I’m sure if I had my eyeglasses on I could see right down to yer bones!” The distressed tuttering sent many of the other dwarves into a flurry of movement, trying to help the healer of the group find the supplies he was looking for. Hanging up my coat leisurely, I called, “Although the gesture is appreciated, Master Healer, these are not wounds in need of any attention. In fact they aren’t wounds at all. Merely a gnarly side effect of my existence is all, please do not fret.” Despite his hearing, it seemed that either my words or his companions’ retellings of my words stalled his hunt, carefully placing everything back into his bag with a quizzical look on his old face. A young dwarf this time, quite handsome with long golden curls and a short beard, mustache braided and clasped with carved silver beads, spoke up this time, clearly curious. “So why do you have them then?” I finished hanging my coat, accepting yet another wave of murmurs, likely due to my bottoms being a pair of black spandex shorts, a style, fabric, and state of exposure that is definitely not normal in Middle Earth, especially for women. But I paid it no heed, and met eyes with the young dwarf who asked, a mischievous smirk crossing my lips before turning back around, and allowed myself to finally be free.

A torrent of gasps and cries of surprise followed my unveiling. Two massive, powerful angel wings slowly unfurled from where I kept them, the raw and wounded skin of my shoulder blades stretching to accommodate the junction between my body and my wings, explaining their demolished appearance. Finally, I turned around entirely, allowing them to view even more scars that were only allowed to be viewed from the front, and confirming that a great many of them went all the way around myself. I’m sure the presence of my wings would tamp down any questions about how I managed to survive even one of the disastrous events to cause the scarring I have, because clearly I am a mystical being beyond the strange human girl they chalked me up to be at first glance. “I hope this is an adequate response.” I said, meeting eyes with the dwarf whose jaw is practically on the floor, as are many of his companions, a light laugh coming from my throat at their reactions. Gandalf too, indulged in their humorous expressions. I met the eyes of the bald dwarf who questioned me before, whose eyes had yet to stop scouring my form, confusion evident on his face as he tried to grasp the sheer number of scars, and factor in how deadly many of them must have been too. I quirked an eyebrow, still smiling, and he bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Throughout this whole exchange, Mr. Baggins had seemingly overloaded, standing slack jawed, eyes unfocused and vaguely gazing at me, although clearly off in his own world somewhere. I’m sure this whole event has been quite the ordeal, and an improperly dressed human woman with wings and pink hair was likely the last thing he needed to tip over the edge, even if I did earn points for being respectful towards his lodgings. I gently laid a hand on his shoulder, murmuring, “Are you alright, Mr. Baggins?” He squeaked in surprise at my proximity, quickly whirling around to face the fire, pointed ears tipped red. “Quite.” He managed to get out, although from his series of actions which earned some laughs he was anything but. I laughed, a smile crinkling my eyes, before adjusting my glasses and clapping him carefully on the shoulder, teasingly stating “Relax, Master Baggins. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to, of course.” Laughter from the dwarves quickly allowed them to relax, some teasing humor towards a very proper man doing the trick for getting them to lighten up around me and stop gawking, not that I minded. Although it seemed to only wind Bilbo up, sorry Bilbo.

The handsome blonde dwarf from before met eyes with another, equally handsome young dwarf with black hair, stubble, and twinkling brown eyes. Mischief and excitement seemed to paint their faces at the same time, likely communicating through some sibling or best friend telepathy. The two of the bounded to the front of the group, each quickly taking a spot at my side, eyes shining happily. “Good evening, Lady Aria, I’m Fili, and this is my brother Kili, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The blonde, Fili, said. He and his brother proceeded to bow, taking one of my hands each and pressing a kiss upon my scarred knuckles, both flickering their eyes up to gauge my reaction. I giggled, before turning their attempt to fluster me against them, stating “I believe the pleasure is, in fact, mine, having been greeted so gallantly by two handsome young men. It is an honor to meet you both, Fili, Kili.” To which I turned their hands so their knuckles were on top, placing a tender, teasing kiss to their equally scarred hands. These little flirty exchanges sent a rush of warmth up my arms and through my entire being, soft and warm and sweet. Like being enveloped by your favorite blanket after it just came out of the dryer, or resting on a bed of fluffy pillows all set out in the sun. In truth I never wanted to let go of their hands, but I did, despite my reluctance.

After doing so, in between the constant thrum of the crowd, and Fili and Kili’s flustered attempts to recover control after I had turned their charming flirtation into a weapon for myself, Mr. Baggins quickly tapped me carefully on the shoulder. “Miss Aria, please follow me to the kitchen to get you something nice and warm.” I followed after the very frazzled host, who kept apologizing for the state of his home, despite it clearly not having been done by himself. He turned back towards me as he continued down to the dining hall, worrying his fingers. “I apologize that dinner will likely be light, I no longer have much to offer to kind guests such as yourself.” I laughed, clapping a hand down on the hobbit’s shoulders in reassurance. “Please don’t worry, Master Baggins. I already ate before my arrival. All I would like to request would be a chance to warm my hands by the fire for a moment.” He smiled ruefully at my reassurance, quickly stammering a slew of ‘of courses’ mixed with some mumbles of ‘not being able to offer a young lady dinner, how preposterous.’

The dwarves slowly began to file back into the dining room, a handsome and regal dwarf, one I assumed to be the famed Erebor prince, Thorin Oakenshield, easing back into his chair after I interrupted the previous conversation they were having. Fili and Kili, clearly an endearingly troublesome duo, peaked around the corner, red tinting their cheeks in an adorable fashion, before a different dwarf with a very intricate light gray beard ushered them back to the dining room, fussing and spluttering “Stop bothering the lass you dolts, it’s a wonder your gawking hasn’t made her incredibly uncomfortable.” After a small scuffle, he trotted back around the corner, and exaggeratedly mouthed “I’m sorry” with a bow before making his way back to the group.

“So, Gandalf, mind telling us why you’ve invited yet another guest?” A deep voice, rich like velvet, smoothed over my ears and practically massaged my brain with the wonderful sound. His sentence held a bit of bite at the end, not pleased by my unexpected presence. “Well, apart from being the best warrior and healer I have ever met in my long life, she has a great variety of skills that would behoove you and your company for such a dangerous quest. However, I specifically asked her to be a guard and mentor for our burglar, if you must know.” Thorin seemed to accept his answer for the time being, although not endlessly pleased. Bilbo, who had been listening just as intently as I had apparently, popped around to address Gandalf and the dwarves himself. “I’m sorry, but this quest is so dangerous that I’m going to need a guard!? And mentor, mentor for what? I know you wrote that very excessive contract about dangerous and deadly things, but if you're really intending to hunt a dragon what would you even need a burglar for?” Ah, they’re fighting a dragon, so that’s another reason why Gandalf invited me. Bilbo had worked himself up so much through this whole event of a day he damn near got his tounge twisted talking so fast. “Aye lad, we are huntin’ a dragon! Balin here isn’t exaggeratin’ with his contract ya know.” A spritely dwarf with a kooky smile and an entertaining hat popped up, and despite his rather delightful demeanor I’m sure his words didn’t do much to help Bilbo’s spiraling mental state. To himself more than anyone else, he began muttering “A dragon, a real dragon. They want me to help kill a dragon. Me, a hobbit…” Bilbo bent over, leaning a hand against the wall, exhaling rapidly in distress, eyes wide trying to keep himself together.

I walked my way over from the hearth, and gently pressed a hand on Bilbo’s shaking shoulders. I comfortingly rubbed, trying to ease his nerves the best I could. “Would you like to sit down? Maybe get some water? Or tea?” He nodded, propping himself up on my shoulder as I guided him back to the kitchen table. Gandalf, despite his mannerisms, went to go and grab a shawl for the distressed hobbit. I fetched a glass of tea for him, apparently chamomile which Dori had brewed earlier. He began to steady his breathing, eventually setting the cup down, head bowed, quietly murmuring “I don’t think I could do this. It just sounds impossible.” I took his hands, which made Bilbo startle a little, but he looked up and met my eyes, tentatively. “Bilbo, the choice of whether you decide to come on this journey or not is entirely your own. And if you do, I promise I will keep you safe with my life, and teach you to protect yourself and fight to the best of my abilities. This journey will be difficult and dangerous, and you will have to give up on many comforts in your life. But you will have many tales to tell, ones unlike any other.” He heaved in a breath, and met my eyes again. “Why would you need to teach me how to fight if you’d be protecting me?” I smiled, squeezed his hands before letting go. “Because, in all honesty, if I see another in our party about to die or get seriously injured, I know my temperment enough that I won’t watch a companion pass again without doing something to stop it. But in the few seconds it could take me to launch a spell or a knife, something could happen to you. I wouldn’t want you to be clueless, even if you only have to fend for yourself for a brief moment. It would give both you and I some peace of mind, for you to have some skill of your own.” He nodded, questions and pros and cons tossing around his mind. “I’ll…I’ll need a bit to decide. Thank you for the reassurance though, Lady Aria. I do appreciate it, truly.” I stood to leave Bilbo to his pondering, flashing him a big, brilliant smile before going around the corner to discuss with the now very quiet dwarves.

I laughed, seeing the boisterous Fili and Kili craning as far off their chairs to listen to my conversation with Mr. Baggins. They sheepishly looked down, elbowing each other and muttering under their breaths, the young brothers likely slinging insults and blame at each other. “I heard from Bilbo that there is a contract that has been written up. I would like to sign it myself, if I may.” An old, white haired dwarf stood, handing me a folded piece of parchment. “Unfortunately, we would have to have you and Bilbo sign the same contract, we don’t have another. I don’t know what to do with the monetary reward because obviously you both can’t count as the same individual, I’ll have to think on a revision. Oh, and I’m Balin, at your service, my lady.” He bowed the best he could between his kin and the table, handing me the contract. “I care not for riches, Bilbo can have the entire share should he decide to sign.” Dwarves, ever a people which cared for jewels and gold, met eyes with each other incredulously over the table. I settled in a chair across the way, reading over each line quickly, not really concerned. I decided to pipe up when the contract finally reached the part about the dragon which turned their home into his hoard, Smaug. “I see there is another reason why you requested my presence, Mithrandir. What I’m sure you are subtly requesting of me, I should be able to accomplish. Although it will not be the easiest job for me, with how long this dragon has been corrupted.” Gandalf smiled around his pipe, coughing slightly on the exhale. “Well, I never suspected it to be easy, my friend.” At this vague talk, Thorin turned looking confused. “What do you mean by that, you’re just supposed to be a guard.” I smiled, confidence oozing for my stance in the chair. “What I mean by that, Master Oakenshield, is that I can handle your dragon problem for you.” The dwarves stood, gawked, genuinely looked surprised. Thorin looked at me like I had suddenly gone insane. “The only way anyone could handle that putrid beast is by killing it.” He practically spat the words. I was not surprised by his ire. I just smirked, even more confidence seeping into my body language. He seemed to falter a bit at my silent cockiness. “Of course, if you would like to risk the life and limbs of you and your kin to kill Smaug yourself, be my guest. If you managed to succeed whatever losses you took would be very problematic for the war that would definitely follow, but you are the leader. You make your choice, whether good or bad.” The dwarves seemed to go slackjawed at my sass towards their leader, Thorin about to blow a fuse, and Gandalf tried his best to stifle his laughter, failing miserably but an attempt was made. “Then, what would you have us do, My Lady?” Thorin bit out, clearly not one to take to people who don’t just yes-sir him at every turn. “I would just need a space to talk to him. From everything I’ve learned, Smaug was a dragon with high intellect, and high curiosity. I can capitalize off of that, and take him off your hands, my king.” Thorin clenched his teeth, suspicion dancing in his eyes, but he didn’t send back a retort either.

I proceeded to sign the contract, handing the paper back to Balin. He analyzed my signature, meeting my eyes. “And just to make sure, are you coming regardless of whether Master Burgular decides to join us?” I nodded, smiling sweetly. “Why would you?” Thorin still didn’t seem to trust my integrity yet, not that I could blame him. “I know what it is like to lose a home you cherish, for better or worse. Unfortunately, I can never return to mine, it has been lost forever. But it would be an honor to help another achieve such a feat.” I said this lightly, despite the somber and undeniably sad nature of my words. A flash of surprise passed over Thorin’s eyes before settling, although he didn’t seem to settle back into the same cold and distrusting attitude he had before. I bowed, exiting the scene to wander around Bag End, popping my boots back on and meandering to sit outside. The night sky of the Shire was wonderful, a rich deep blue, speckled with countless stars and a full, glowing silver white moon. But the stars, of course, were in different places compared to the stars of my home world, a world that no longer existed. There was no milky way, no dippers, no ursa major or minor. Even though it had been so long since I had left, and thought that I had completely moved on from that world, no crying over spilt milk and all that, I was feeling rather sentimental.

The door opened again, and I saw my old friend, returning to his full height now that he’s outside, who sighed, clutching his pipe and sitting down in the grass beside me. He silently puffed rings of smoke from his pipe, waiting for me to say something. “You do realize, Mithrandir, that my presence on this journey will likely change some course of the future. I will not just let the line of Durin die again.” Gandalf chuckled, putting out his pipe. “Nor would I expect you to. Protecting their lives is, although I would never admit it to them, especially Thorin, another reason I chose to invite you. And yes, the future may change, Aria. But what if it changes for the better?” I met his blue eyes, cheekily crinkled up as I tried to stay stern with him. Something that never really seemed to work. I sighed, shaking my head, and stood, gladly taking Gandalf’s hand as we went back inside.

We reentered Mr. Baggins’ home, and the lovely sound of humming met my ears. Deep rumbling, gravelly yet not grating to listen to. The scent of various types of tobacco mixed in the gentle breeze coming in through the window. Then, a voice I recognized to be Thorin’s began to sing, his beautiful voice trapping me in a thrall. Just hearing him speak, despite his grumpy and guarded nature, was a joy with how lovely his voice is to listen to. But when combined with melody, especially one as mournful and solemn as this, his voice was like a siren to me. I approached the section of the house, not wanting to disturb, so I kept myself tucked around the corner, out of sight, but would allow me to listen. Slowly, the other dwarves began to join their king, voices of various other tones and timbres swelling to add weight and support to the others. An imperfect chorus, not quite blended, but a perfect performance. Something I, as someone who loves singing myself, could easily appreciate.

Eventually the swell of the song died to hums, and then to silence beyond the crackling of the fire and the dwarves slowly began to find their way to find a place to bed down for the night. I stood and peeked around, hoping everyone had left, but unfortunately for me Thorin was still sitting there, smoking his pipe, staring at the flickering fire that had been rendered to embers. His eyes flickered to meet mine, looking curious as to why I had been hiding, a flash of amusement setting his icy blue eyes alight. “What is it that you need, if anything, Miss Bodyguard?” He said, similar amusement seeping into his voice at my embarrassed expression at having been caught listening in. It was a nice change, hearing no bitterness or anger tinge his voice. I hoped that eventually, some of that understandable anger and coldness would be lifted, and I could hear happiness and humor tinge him again. Desperate to play off the sheepishness I don’t even fully know why I had, I proceeded to approach the king. “Your song touched my heart, sir. I know that longing well. I guess…I just wanted to reiterate that I’ll be with you for as long as it takes, to see Erebor returned to you and your people.” A smile stretched across his face, surprisingly gentle. “You surprise me, Miss Bodyguard. You speak as though you have lived a thousand lives and yet in this moment you reminded me of my nephews after being scolded by my sister.” A deep rumbling chuckle emerged from his chest, a sound I, quite frankly, would have loved to listen to on a loop. “Well, I suppose your assessment of my character is accurate in both ways, Master Oakenshield.” I giggled lightly in return, fiddling with my hair a little bit, before casting my eyes to the fire, bashful. He laughed again, much to my suppressed delight. “You take me more as a knight than a bodyguard for hire, Miss Aria, although I suppose you did say you need no compensation.” Humor tinted his voice once again, and I desperately beat down any hyperactive hope-brain that kept screaming ‘he’s flirting, he’s flirting!’ met his eyes, before slowly sinking to one knee, silently offering my hand, and with a cheeky gleam in my eyes but serious intent, whispered, “Would you like me to swear on it?”

Thorin seemed a bit taken aback by my sudden show of loyalty, especially given how we had only met a few hours ago at this point. But he took my offer in stride, adjusted in his chair to lean forward in order to take my offered hand. The same lovely warmth coursed through my veins at his touch, his hands calloused and warm, small bits of dirt underneath his nails speaking to his integrity, not resting despite being a prince his whole life. Intricate dwarven rings in silver were placed upon a few of his fingers. I never wanted to let go, to have to miss his touch, even if it was just my hand. I swallowed, tamping down the hurricane of butterflies, and met his eyes. If there was a similar feeling to the one I was experiencing, he made no show of it on his face. I felt a sour mix of disappointment and relief at the same time. Meeting his eyes, I made my vow. “I, Aria, swear on the moon above that as of this night, I am to serve as a loyal knight to Thorin, son of Thrain, rightful king of Erebor, until he deigns to remove me from my post, should that day come. I will follow your every command, My King.” This time with no sarcastic twist to my words, I smiled sweetly after finishing my vow, blushing as I pressed a kiss to his knuckles before resting my forehead against his hand. My soul was screaming to not let go of his hand, screeching to have held the kiss to his hand longer, to cling on to him. To somehow try to convince him to stay in the Blue Mountains despite my vow, knowing what deadly future awaited him. But I let go, and stood. He almost seemed shell shocked before coming back from wherever he had been spiraling, thanking me for my vow. “I would suggest getting some rest for the night. It will be a long journey starting from dawn, Aria.” I nodded in acknowledgement before setting about finding a space for some shut-eye, knowing full well I will get no rest.

I curled up in one of the comfy chairs, in a room occupied by Bofur, Ori, Dori, and, much to my delight and dismay, Kili and Fili. For some reason Bofur had just straight up passed out on the rug, blissed out and stretched every which way. I smiled at his silly charm before my eyes flicked to the two princes, both curled up on the couch. They seemed to go everywhere with each other, something quite adorable to me, as someone who was an only child. I liked seeing siblings with such a strong and positive bond. I blushed as I pondered the feeling I had received upon touching hands with them both, as well as their uncle. Before my eyes fluttered shut I never did quite figure out what it was, summing it up to basic attraction since all three were very handsome dwarves, despite something in my heart knowing it was more than that. I didn’t really want to consider what it could mean, but all I really knew was that I would already do anything within my power to make sure the three of them didn’t die on me. I myself would give my life before allowing such a thing to happen.

Chapter Text

#3:

Just as the sunrise began to paint the sky, I opened my eyes. I looked around, seeing all of the dwarves in the room still happily sleeping, although Ori maybe not so happily given how tightly his elder brother seemed to be holding onto him. I carefully eased out of the room, not making a sound, before padding carefully out into the main hallways to see Balin, Dwalin, Gandalf, and Thorin, quietly talking in hushed voices, trying to not awaken the rest of the company. I blushed lightly after seeing Thorin, not quite ready to talk to him after spending most of the night oscillating between mulling over what that warm feeling was and trying not to fangirl a little bit over him and his nephews. In all my years I don’t think I’ve acted this much like a young teen since I was…well…a young teen. Determined to make myself useful, and keep myself busy, I hunted for a cleaning cloth and began to work at the mud on the hardwood floors and various cabinetry and furniture. Even though it wasn’t my mess. Unfortunately for me, I scraped one of the chairs across the floor, just a tiny squeak, but enough to catch everyone’s attention. I bowed, wished them a quiet good morning, and returned to my work, flustered.

“What are you doing there, lassie?” Balin approached with light steps, careful to not make much noise. “I’m just trying to clean up a bit. It would be good to not leave the place so grimy. It is Bilbo’s home after all.” I murmured, continuing to go ham with the rag on the edge of the glorybox. “Where did you find the rag lass?” Ever the gentleman, Balin seemed to decide to pitch in some too. “There was only one. Here.” I duplicated the rag I was using and wet it down with water, before handing it off to Balin. “This magic of yours…I have many questions.” He seemed to not quite believe his eyes despite the proof in his hand, setting about wiping down the bench many of the dwarves had thrown their packs on. After taking care of some of the furniture that I deemed to need tending to by hand, I proceeded to practically make a swiffer out of duplicated rags, cleaning the floors until they shined. Dwalin, Thorin, and Gandalf were watching the whole event, perplexed. I did catch Dwalin muttering to Gandalf upon seeing his confusion, “Yer a wizard too, why are you so confused?” which made me stifle a giggle. “Master Dwalin, despite being her friend for many long years, she still tends to find ways to surprise me.”

I proceeded to roll up all the disgusting carpets and take them outside. Some of the other dwarves had begun to stir, namely Bifur, Bomber, Nori, and Ori, who had somehow managed to extract himself from his brother’s bear hug. Fili and Kili rounded the corner just as I finished gathering the last rug, and set about leaving to wash them outside. Just in time too, I wasn’t quite prepared to deal with their flirting this early. Bifur, seeing me carrying a mountain of different rugs, although some were trailing behind me, suspended by magic, he asked, “Do you want some help?” to which I replied “No, but thank you, Bifur.” The other dwarves who were awake all turned to stare at me. I stopped right before the door at their confusion. “You speak Khuzdul?” Ah, so that’s why. I opened the door, called back, “I’m omnilinguist.” and shut it. I happily went up onto the top of the mound of Bilbo’s hobbit hole, pushed all the rugs to lie flat in the grass, and set about scrubbing them down with shampoo, a squeegee, and water, which poured from my finger like a mid-power hose. The mud and grass that flowed off of them all was indeed pleasing to see, no wonder Bilbo was so irate, I’m sure the state of these would have made most hobbits blow a fuse alone.

“Excuse me! Miss Angel!” I turned to see Fili and Kili dash up the path. Kili had a big, sparkling smile on his face while Fili’s was a bit smaller, but still warm and friendly. I hoped the pink that painted my cheeks would be chalked up to the pinkish glow the sunrise was casting on everything. “Aria is fine, what can I do for you two?” Kili, happiness practically bubbling out from him, bounced on his toes and just said, “Nothing! We want to help you out!” I sighed, but smiled and tried not to roll my eyes. I guess my refusal of Bifur’s help flew over their heads, likely on purpose. “Just do what I do, you two.” I duplicated the soaped up squeegees, wet down some of the other rugs preemptively, and allowed them to watch me clean the rugs. They watched me like a hawk, which was a bit embarrassing and strange. I was used to being watched during combat, but not during cleaning. Fili was the first one to try, then Kili soon after, both delighted at their quick work. I guess they’ve really never seen anyone clean a carpet before, even if they’ve never done it themselves. Prince things, I guess.

Eventually, some of the other dwarves began to hurry about, transporting pack after pack to wherever the copious number of ponies happen to be staying. Kili and Fili bantered with each other, sometimes asking me questions. When Bofur emerged, looking like he had just woken up, tottering about like he was drunk, all three of us met eyes and began to laugh. Especially after noticing his hat was somehow inside out. “How much did he drink last night?!” I exclaimed between fits of giggles. “Ah, probably the majority of Bilbo’s ale barrel, tends to be his way. Always insists he can handle a lot more than he actually can. Drinks himself into a stupor half the time.” Kili said, leaning on the handle of the brush, flashing me a blinding smile and a wink. I giggled again at his charmingly overt flirtations. The sunrise and general hilarity at watching the dwarves run back and forth with bags much too large for them loosening me up a bit. “So is this your actual height, Miss Aria? You’re very tall, even for a human woman.” Fili said, having to look up at me from where he stood at 4’5”, minus whatever additional height his boots added. “Well, I’m a bit shorter, the platforms on my boots add around 3 extra inches or so.” The two young princes seemed surprised, probably thinking I made myself taller with magic too, just like how I made myself shorter. “Excuse me, My lady Aria!” I looked down to see Dori, panting a little bit, having just run a pack to the ponies. “Would you mind using all of your magical wonderfulness to help us transport the packs? They’re quite heavy, you see.”

“No problem, we’re almost done with the rugs. I’ll be down in a bit, Dori.” Relief washed over his face, making me smile at his expression. Fili and Kili almost seemed disappointed that our washing-rugs-time was nearly over, slowing down considerably with the scrubbing, to which I smiled, patting one of each of their broad shoulders in reassurance. “We have a long journey to get to know each other. No need to stall for time.” before flashing them a wink in return. Both of them blushed lightly before returning to their original pace. I dried off the rugs as they finished the last few off, the brothers then insisted on carrying the excess since they “refuse to make a pretty lady work too hard, even if she’s a warrior.” to which I just shook my head but let them take the win, more chuffed that they called me pretty. Gods above, my friends must be laughing at me so hard right now.

I took all the rugs back after getting back inside and sent them all fluttering to their proper places, wiggling under dressers and chairs as needed. The other dwarves had done a brilliant job at setting everything back in order while the three of us were up top. Dori beckoned me over, dabbing at his forehead with a spare handkerchief, showing me the other packs that had yet to be delivered. I briefly touched all of them, lifting them and beginning to head out the door, Balin graciously holding it open for me. “Wait, let me take one of them for you!” Kili exclaimed, shouldering one that had not made it off the bench yet, wincing very slightly at the weight of it. Dwalin, with his thick accent and no-nonsense attitude, moved behind the young prince and tugged it off of him. “Oh stop that, laddie, and let the mage do her work. You’re making a rite fool of yourself.” Kili’s cute face flushed with embarrassment, and although his intervention was quite unnecessary, in fact the less the dwarves had to physically carry these massive packs the better, but I appreciated his sentiment, and didn’t like seeing him get laughed at. About to exit with Dori and Balin, I called back to Kili, “Thank you very much for your kindness, Kili.” and giggled before letting the door swing shut. I heard a cacophony of jeering, likely due to whatever expression or reaction Kili had to my praise. I hope I didn’t unintentionally make things worse for him.

I’m sure for the now many hobbits who had exited their homes to enjoy the early morning sun, seeing two older dwarves walking alongside a very tall, barely dressed woman, trailed by a train of huge travelling packs, wondered if they needed to get their eyes checked. Balin and Dori’s company was quite appreciated, as they politely asked me many questions about various things. Balin was very curious about my omnilinguism, asking if once arriving to Erebor I could help him translate some old passages, and Dori asked me about what variety of things I could make, like if I could make a teapot and tea, or could just make perfectly prepared tea, i.e, magic semantics. It made the decently long walk to the ponies enjoyable. I helped hitch pack after pack to the specified pony, Balin giving directions and Dori doing his absolute best to help me out, even if it was an action as minor as reminding me about the next pack to load up. Eventually, all the ponies had their allocated bags strapped on every square inch that wouldn’t hold a dwarf, and the other dwarves as well as Gandalf had wandered their way down. I noticed Bilbo hadn’t joined, but I wasn’t all too concerned. It was his choice to make after all, with many benefits as well as many dangers.

Gandalf saddled up, then turned to me and said, “It would be best if you called your steed, my friend. Even for you the walk would be long. I’m sure she’d quite like to see you again.” I nodded in acknowledgement, although he seemed to forget the rather extensive trek I’ve been on exclusively on foot. Couldn’t really blame him though, he wasn’t present for that part of the journey. Nori, seated upon his pony, leaned a bit to the side to call around Dwalin’s form. “What do you mean, call? It’s a horse.” I smiled knowingly, saying in a sing-song tone, “You’ll see!~” The sigh of exasperation that emerged from Nori, as well as a few of the others, namely the ever-curious Ori and Kili, made me giggle. Eventually, everyone got settled on their respective pony, Thorin brusqly calling “We move out!”, taking the second spot in line behind Gandalf.

It was around 30 minutes of leisurely trekking through the comfy woods and rolling fields of the Shire, before a very winded Bilbo caught up to us, dressed sharply in the deep red coat, walking stick in hand. He inhaled a great breath before shouting, “I want to sign! I’d like to journey with all of you!” Balin seemed more chuffed at our hobbit’s arrival than I expected him to be. I guess he took somewhat of a shine to him, fishing out the contract, while Ori handed him a quill to borrow. He was welcomed, very unceremoniously lifted onto the spare pony, (I tried desperately not to laugh at how uncomfortable he looked riding), and we set off on our way. I hung back, now walking alongside my charge. It became very clear very quickly how unaccustomed to adventuring he was, demanding to turn around after he realized he forgot a handkerchief, much to Thorin’s annoyance. I quickly magicked up a handkerchief for him, and we set off again.

As I walked alongside a still very uncomfortable Bilbo, Kili came to my other side, brown eyes twinkling in excitement. “When are you gonna call your horse?” It was clear how jittery and impatient he was, in a cute way though. “Whenever Thorin calls for a rest, I’ll saddle up then.” He groaned, clearly doubting that his uncle would call for a rest any time soon. Nori, Ori, and now Bofur joined in the groaning. Bilbo looked down (although not far down) at me, confused, but Myrtle snorted and craned her head up, rendering him distressed and stiff as a board, much to Kili’s amusement, bright laugh echoing around us. Nori soon took pity on him, giving him some equestrian tips and tricks, and after about two hours of startling at every little movement, he finally began to settle into riding, although the operative word was “began”. I zoned out of the idle chatter between the dwarves, laughing as Oin basically had to wrestle a very reluctant Gloin for his coin pouch. He had apparently tried to sneak off from his brother after losing the ‘will Bilbo show’ bet. He had nearly gotten away with it too, if Balin hadn’t snitched on him. Apparently he took notes. Despite his grandfatherly nature, he seemed to have a mischievous streak of his own, if the quiet snickering said anything. Other than that, I gazed out at the peaceful tranquility of the Shire, knowing that it will probably be one of the most peaceful and tranquil places I will visit in a while. The trees were old, wide trunks and thick branches that spread out in a low canopy. The ground was thick with clover, practically untouched other than the thin travelling path, where carriage tracks lined the soil. Everything smelled lush and verdant. Songbirds twittered about, flying overhead and singing their tunes, completely carefree. The only other noise was the breeze, gently fluttering through the leaves above. I hadn’t actually seen the Shire before, despite my previous adventures in Middle Earth. I had heard much of how lovely Hobbiton was, but the surrounding land of the Shire was equally as wonderful.

The dwarves were groaning for a quick pit stop about 3 hours into the journey. Thorin called it, much to many of the company’s relief. Many quickly dismounted and ran off for a spot of privacy, but I quickly amassed a small gaggle of very curious dwarves and one curious hobbit, who had all done their very best to be patient. We wrapped the reins of the ponies around some tree branches to hold them still, as people stretched, ran around, and generally tried to work out the emerging soreness. Only Thorin, Dwalin, and Gandalf stayed mounted. I helped a flustered Bilbo down from Myrtle, started making my way up to the front. Kili was practically bouncing in excitement, lolloping around, trying to burn off the energy that had gathered as he sat still for hours on end. Ori, though tentative, was equally as excited. Nori and Bofur hung a bit further back, although not by much, exchanging banter over what I could’ve meant by summoning a horse, given the parameters of what they’ve seen of my magic. “Knowin’ how the lass works so far she’ll probably just poof a horse into existence.” Bofur said, to which Nori replied, “She hasn’t poofed anything alive into existence before though.” which was met by grumbles. Bilbo was tailing after them, still rather nervous about his place in present company, seeming to go for the position of ‘speak when spoken to’, at least for now. Fili, who had been stretching his legs, got curious by the small band I had tailing me, gently ruffling his pony’s forelock before jogging to catch up, slinging an arm over a very surprised Bilbo, who let out a squeak in surprise. Much to his mortification, Fili, Kili, Nori and Bofur immediately began laughing at him, ruffling his hair and teasing him with a smile. His indignant sputtering didn’t help his case, but thankfully he seemed to loosen up a little.

Ori fell back to quietly comfort the now very embarrassed Bilbo, Fili coming up to my side, linking arms with me and beaming. “So, where are we heading off to, Miss Angel?” I giggled at the nickname, appreciating the sun setting his blonde hair alight a brilliant gold, the beads on his mustache gleaming, and his pretty blue eyes shining an even lighter shade in the sun, crinkled up sweetly with his smile. “Just to the front of the party. I’m going to summon my horse.” I said, nonchalant despite the known strangeness of my words. He stopped in his tracks, much to Nori’s distaste given he bumped his nose straight into his head, looking genuinely perplexed. “How can you summon a horse?” he exclaimed, Nori getting frustrated and pushing him forward. “We’re literally about to find out, we’re been confused for hours now, you’re lucky.” Bofur said, grumbling slightly. Gandalf, seeing my presence and the excited gaggle of dwarves behind me, smiled and called down “I presume now is the time?” I nodded, jogging over to the front of the party and slightly off to the side on the empty grass, facing the sun. Gandalf seemed to be ushering the curious dwarves into a line, Thorin and Dwalin now giving me a side-eye to watch, without seeming like they are actually observing me. I summoned a white flute, carved from marble, thin bands of black and gray streaking through it, and played a lilting tune. The dwarves thought it sounded familiar to elvish music, but not quite accurate, almost akin to a different dialect. The song rose into the sky, all other noise slowly dulled to nothingness, and eventually a small portal appeared in the sky in front of the sun. The wavering edges of the portal gradually expanded, and finally I saw a black hoof.

Cantering out of the portal came my giant horse, although she is technically an alicorn. A deep midnight black coat with a long, slightly wavy mane and tail. Powerful black wings were flared out, the feathers lightly shifting in color like a glossy oil spill. The long, spiraling horn emerged from her forehead too, sparkling in the light. She was huge, and strong and powerful, and when she landed on the ground, immediately trotting over to greet me, she towered over the ponies, and stood much taller still than Gandalf’s steed. All 13 dwarves (and one hobbit), having heard my song, stood there agape. Understandably so, I’m sure she’s both the first alicorn they’ve ever seen as well as the largest horse they’ve ever seen. Fili was the first to approach us, I had been happily stroking her nose as she continued to winny in happiness. Fili met my eyes, asking for permission to greet her, which she granted herself, pivoting her head to snuffle at his hands. “What’s her name?” I smiled seeing Fili’s quiet delight at how friendly she was towards him, even though he had to reach up a pretty significant amount to pet her. “Eclipse. She’s been a dear friend to me for many many moons. I think she’s quite excited to go on another adventure with me.” I gently placed my hands on her horn, and then later on her wings, making them disappear from view. She looked at me indignantly, huffing. She’s very proud of her horn and wings. “Sorry girl, can’t be too careful.” Kili laughed at our mutual understanding of each other, commenting to Ori that she had somehow managed to roll her eyes. I crafted the necessary riding equipment, although neither of us need it to navigate successfully. Don’t want to stand out too much.

Thorin was getting antsy to get going again, calling out to the dwarves (and hobbit) to remount and get back underway. Nori kindly gave Bilbo a boost up, as I levitated to saddle up on Eclipse, barely holding onto the reins for formalities, guiding Eclipse with my mind alone to stand beside Bilbo, pinning him between me and Bofur. The going was good, and the conversations were joyful, Kili and Fili regularly pulling out of line to be charming towards me, or to gawk at Eclipse more, which she found very enjoyable. A rite attention hog she is, not that I can blame her. Sometimes they would approach with flirty lines, other times just pass by and send winks or sweet smiles as they went to go chat with another dwarf, never staying long enough to actually let me send back a retort. They seem to learn quite fast. One time Fili presented me a well-woven flower crown of the various flowers from the trees above us, which I happily placed on top of my head, smiling. Our hands brushed briefly when he passed the crown to me, that familiar yet alarming warmth shooting up my nerves. His eyes seemed to widen and he blushed lightly, smiling a little bit seeing my face as well. Kili slapped him cordially on the shoulder, to which the both of them almost began tusseling on their ponies until Dwalin smacked them over the head for their foolishness.

We had gotten up into the mountains by nightfall. The horses were watered and fed, Bilbo had now grown quite close to Myrtle, sneaking her an apple despite the loud cronch of her teeth driving through its skin. Bomber set about preparing dinner, a warm stew of potatoes and cheese bubbling and wafting a comforting, homely scent around the area. The dwarves began to set up their bedrolls, and I crafted a few pillows to sit on, staring out towards the forested paths around us, silently volunteering myself for the first watch…and all the other watches of the night, even though the dwarves wouldn’t allow such a thing. Ori nabbed the closest spot to me, shyly asking me the occasional question. Kili pouted grumpily, before wandering back over to his brother and Balin. Thorin and Dwalin didn’t seem all that content on settling either, unlike Oin, who fell asleep despite not eating. Bomber and Dori happily served dinner to all of us, gratefully eating the delicious soup, and slowly the company began to turn in. I encouraged Thorin to sleep, saying I’d wake him up for watch, despite knowing I wouldn’t. The fire was put out, sparks all that remained, and I silently looked up at the crescent moon, waiting to see if the squirrels or moths brought me any intel. Thankfully, the night was quiet and safe, and the company got an undisturbed night of deep sleep, a chorus of quiet, and not-so-quiet, snores filling the balmy night air.

Chapter Text

Thorin was not pleased with me when he awoke and it was morning. He glared at me all throughout breakfast, as well as the set off. He had grumbled to the other dwarves, quietly asking them if they had been woken up for watch, to which none of them said yes. I, meanwhile, didn’t seem like I had just pulled an all-nighter. I was cheerful, laughing brightly at a joke Bofur had made as I enjoyed the warm onion broth Bombur created to warm us up from the chilled night air. He didn’t approach to confront me until most of the dwarves were readying to saddle up. I, knowing he was waiting to find a quieter moment, lingered around the fire, slowly packing up my unused bedroll and blankets. “Why didn’t you wake someone for watch.” he grumbled, large arms crossed and dark eyebrows furrowed. “Because I stayed up all night.” I answered back, continuing to busy myself. “ That’s irresponsible.” he grumbled, Dwalin wandering over to see what the holdup was. “If you fell asleep we would have been left without a guard.” “I wouldn’t have. Plus, on the impossible chance I did, the birds would have been watching for me.” He quirked an eyebrow, incredulous. “Birds. Birds watching for orcs.” I held out one of my arms, and quickly, chirpy little songbirds fluttered down from the trees and landed, looking directly at Thorin, and Dwalin (who frankly just seemed confused). “Yeah. Birds.”

Thorin went quiet for a bit, but when I walked over to Eclipse, thinking the conversation was over, he followed, Dwalin asking what I did. Dwalin didn’t seem to take the news of my sleepless night any better than Thorin did. “Lass, you gotta sleep some. We can’t have anybody not at their best.” Dwalin said, gruff voice more concerned than I was expecting. “I’m just fine. Believe me, when I’m not, it’ll be obvious.” I still wasn’t making eyecontact with the two dwarven men. “Besides, you and the rest of the company got a full night of sleep, something that is rare and desperately needed for a journey like this. Wouldn’t it be best for me, someone who can go a very long time without need of sleep, to take watches while you all get as much rest as possible?” Thorin and Dwalin both grumbled again, little interjections of “but still”s and “lass-” but didn’t seem to be able to come up with something to say. “Well…Still, tonight wake somebody up just in case. I do not yet fully trust your…songbirds.” Thorin growled, trudging over to his pony and setting off, Dwalin following suit. “You alright, Lass?” Nori asked, his pony sidling over to Eclipse’s side. “I haven’t seen too many people square off with both Dwalin and Thorin over something and seem to come out successful before. What happened?” “I just stayed up all night. Killed two birds with one stone.” Nori looked at me, shocked. “How the hell are you keeping your eyes open?” Fili and Kili seemed to be drawn by Nori’s exclamation, but before mischief and my choice of no sleep continued through the crew, Thorin called for us to move out.

Bilbo, not seemingly aware of the…tension? (although that seemed strong, more like confused concern crossed with stubborn dwarves not used to losing in any regard.) began to happily chatter about the beautiful morning. It was indeed a beautiful morning, the sun was shining and the birds (one of whom was now residing in my hair, a cute little chickadee) were delightfully chirping. We meandered through the forest, which slowly petered out into rolling grassy hills spotted with the occasional tree. As the sun beat down onto the group, they started shucking off their massive woolen coats and furs. Bilbo almost started panting, refusing to be that improper, as if going coatless was improper. I myself shucked off my coat too, existing only in my bra and spandex, much to the chagrin of some and the delight of others. Bilbo squeaked and seemed to refuse to look in my general direction. The most interesting occurrences on the road beyond this, were the antics of Kili and Fili (who I desperately try to deny gazing at to myself. They were both wearing thin linen shirts with the sleeves rolled up to their elbows, allowing me to catch a glimpse of the geometric tattoos that spiraled around their forearms) and Thorin and Gandalf’s constant bickering at the front of the party. I internally cringed at Thorin’s cross mood, knowing that my obstinance earlier likely didn’t help, which I’m sure was only doubled from the heat. Dwarves were known to be people who preferred the cold. I couldn’t even fully tell what they were bickering about. However, when Gandalf mentioned Rivendell - causing me to perk up immediately - Thorin nearly blew a gasket.

Thankfully, Bomber and Dori’s whining about the heat cut through the bickering at the front, and Bifur’s exclamation of

drew the attention of everyone, other than Bilbo. Thorin, begrudgingly relenting to the immediate cacophony of the party begging to go for a quick swim to cool off, turned his fluffy steed over towards the river, accompanied by hoots and hollars. “What’s happening?” Asked Bilbo, confused at the sudden excitement. “Bifur spotted a river, and we’re going to cool off in the water now. The horses could probably need some water too.” After we dismounted close to the riverbank, the dwarves very quickly started sprinting towards the water, many of the younger (or more desperate) ones peeling off their sweat-soaked shirts and trousers as fast as possible. Bilbo, Dori, and Balin immediately reacted to the impropriety, Bilbo by squeaking yet again and turning around, while Balin tsked exasperatedly, and Dori nearly coughed out a lung yelling at them. I gathered the horses and led them down stream, and they gratefully started drinking up the cool water. I placed my hand in to test it out, it was pleasantly cool, and decently deep with a pretty present current rushing through. Perfect for a quick rest stop.

I laughed quietly to myself when I saw Thorin speed-walking over towards a rocky part of the river bank, thinking he must have been significantly more desperate for a dip than he wanted to seem. I nearly choked on my tongue when he shucked off his shirt. His back was incredibly muscular and broad, ridges visible from all the way over where I was standing. He had scars from blades criss-crossing his arms and back, but what was really impressive was the massive intricate raven tattoo stretching across the span of his form, wings extending down the backs of his also very muscular arms. I desperately averted my eyes, tying up the horses to allow them to graze to their heart's content. I smiled to myself at the ringing laughter of my compatriots, Gandalf settling on a stone, facing the treeline, puffing away at his pipe, furrowed eyebrows slowly relaxing as the leaf relaxed his frazzled nerves. I placed my coat, folded, on a rock, and magic swirled around me, changing out of my travelling gear into a swimsuit, a guazy sarong slung low around my hips, figuring I would launch the dwarves and Bilbo into a severe panic attack and maybe a few strokes if I wanted around in what would equate to underwear. Although, the state of dress a bikini top begets didn’t receive much better of a response once I was spotted, toeing into the cool water. Many of the more proper dwarves, Dori nearly passing out in the water, started loudly exclaiming in distress, Gloin climbing out to run and grab me a shirt, desperately trying to thrust it over my shoulders while trying not to look at me. Fili, Kili, Bofur, and Nori mind you, were trying to peek over to see what the fuss was about. Kili, who had been on his brother’s shoulders for some godforesaken reason, fell into the water in surprise, blushing scarlet. Thorin, who had reacted as if I was injured, also went slightly red, specifically his ears, and promptly turned around, not saying anything one way or the other. “Oh come now lads, let the lass wear what she wishes, half of ye’ are more undressed than she.” Oin grumbled from where he was wringing out his shirt. The others grumbled, but did as he said, although Gloin was not so pleased to receive a smack over the head from his elder brother. I didn’t pay it any mind, in all honesty. I found their protectiveness amusing, given how little we’ve been travelling together. And from what I knew of dwarves, I knew it came from a good place, a place of reverence, due to how precious women were to their culture. Ori didn’t seem to particularly care either way, which surprised me. He, in fact, was the first to approach me where I lounged against the river bank, giggling quietly to myself as the fabric of the sarong drifted in the river’s current. He was incredibly curious about the fabric my swimsuit was made of, which resulted in me explaining the wonders of waterproofing, and Ori excitedly reacting in turn.

We set off again, moods significantly improved, although they seemed to sour at the front of the pack yet again when Gandalf once again not-so-subtly brought up going to Rivendell to gain assistance from Elrond regarding the map. Thorin seemed to hold extremely staunch hatred for elves, something I understood due to his family’s long-lasting dispute with Thranduil and the elves of Mirkwood. I didn’t realize it extended all the way to the elves of Rivendell as well, and likely to the ones of Lothlorien as well by proxy. The rest of the party seemed much happier though, Fili and Kili back to their adorably charismatic actions, once again picking flowers from the side of the road, forming little wildflower bouquets and gallantly handing them over to me atop my steed, the both of them stretching their arms to reach me from their ponies. Kili even tied a bouquet to an arrow, and shot it over the heads of the other dwarves who yelled in confusion and disgruntlement. I caught it with ease, and found myself appreciating the artful and well-practiced movement of him angling his bow and sending off the arrow carrying the delicate package. I loved the little flowers, weaving them together into a flower crown, which I placed on my head when they both exited the line to flash me more winks and winning smiles. “Thank you for the flowers.” I smiled brightly at the two of them, Fili returning it and Kili looking to the side, blushing red. He had been much less confident with his gifting than he was before, bashfully looking to the side as he handed them off. It always made me giggle, making me think that despite his brash confidence, seeing me in my swimsuit had rattled the young prince more than he’d like to admit.

The sun began to set down beyond the mountainous horizon as we began to approach the forest. Bilbo was incredibly nervous and quiet, fiddling with Myrtle’s reins, generally restless. “Something on your mind, Mr. Baggins?” I said, looking at my charge to the side of me. “Oh…I’m sorry to worry you, Miss Aria. It’s just…We’re almost at the edge of the Shire.” Understanding crossed my mind. The shire was quiet…safe, gentle, beautiful. Even in the outskirts like we were now, we had had an entirely, and miraculously, peaceful commute. For all the dwarves poke fun (both in teasing and in genuine distaste, depending on who it is) at Bilbo’s peaceful and gentlemanly ways, he is much more than a home-loving bookish introvert who is too polite for his own good. He is also very intelligent, resourceful, and very aware of his situation. He knows, like most hobbits know, that the Shire is one of very few safezones within Middle Earth. Beyond the invisible boundaries, he may never approach another safe haven again until the journey is over, assuming he even survives it, which is very much up in the air for all of us, but especially him. He is the one who, provided I can’t break through to Smaug, will go in to nab the most precious, beautiful, and noticeable gemstone in the entire hoard. He is also the one who doesn’t have any experience in fighting, which I will make sure to rectify as fast as possible, but he is likely also very aware that he will be a rookie at best, and entirely inept at worst. And, knowing his thinly veiled cynicism, he would most likely believe he will be incredibly bad at fighting. “I’m sure it’s incredibly nervewracking, leaving the safety you are understandably connected to. But there are so many beautiful lands to explore beyond, lands I’m sure you’ll end up appreciating for at the very least their aesthetic beauty. And I’m hoping to begin teaching you some basic skills with a blade tonight after dinner, once Thorin chooses a place for us to bed down.” Bilbo nodded, smiling appreciatively, but based on his still down expression, I don’t know how much my words eased his worries.

A bristling Thorin called for us to settle down and dismount in a rundown, lifeless farm inset on a lovely grassy plane. I looked over to the dilapidated farmhouse, Gandalf’s eyebrows furrowed in similar disturbance. I handed Eclipse’s reins off to Bifur, who gave her quick pats on the nose before leading her over to a paddock where the ponies were grazing peacefully. As the rest of the company began bustling around, rolling out bedrolls and a few of them assisting Bomber in setting up a campfire for cooking dinner and warmth, I picked my way over the shards of dry wood and glass to Gandalf’s side. “I dislike the energy around this area, Mithrandir.” He hummed in agreement, before setting off down the ruined pathway, me on his tail. The both of us eased our way into the building, the hinges on the door shrieking in anger at being moved.

My suspicions were quickly confirmed once I entered. The walls were collapsed in, the bricks of the chimney clattered around in the back of the little house, hay from the thatched roof falling all around. However, the furniture that was undamaged, or at least less damaged, was not rotting or old in style, nor looted by goblins or bandits either. There was a thin layer of dust laying on the furniture as well, but significantly less than would be expected on a farmhouse that run-down by time alone. Gandalf had seen enough, making his way out and calling for Thorin’s attention. I was almost set out to follow, when a small glint of shining metal caught my eye. It was a little locket, incredibly simple in design, just smooth and oval in shape. I clicked the clasp, and it swung open with no resistance. Inside was a tiny drawing of a family of three humans, a mother, father, and little son. All three were smiling brightly, dressed in standard peasant garb. Not seeing any bodies, I prayed the three of them had managed to get away from whatever assailant met them, but the uncomfortable feeling deep in my stomach didn’t give me much faith that that was the case.

“-This is not a safe place to rest for the night, Thorin!” Gandalf insisted as I came out of the building. “Oh quiet yourself, at worst it would be some bandits we could easily handle. Besides, my kin are tired, and the sun is nearly gone. We stay.” Gandalf snarled, frustration evident in the face of one of the most stubborn dwarves that has likely existed. “Thorin, whatever broke that farmhouse, is much stronger and larger than mere human bandits. There is not nearly enough dust to denote that time itself was the criminal regarding its destruction. There was a human family living here, not more than two weeks ago.” I showed him, and Gandalf by proxy, the little locket. “Whatever it is, we will handle it! We are staying and that is final.” Thorin doubled down, pride in his and his kin’s abilities veiling logic. “Your stubbornness will get you and your people killed, Thorin Oakenshield!” Gandalf yelled, marching over to the horses to remount Shadowfax and set off on his own. “Gandalf, where are you going!” Bilbo called out, distressed. “I am going to spend time with one of the few people who have any sense!” He said, bitingly. “Who would that be?” Bilbo asked, fiddling with the cuffs of his coat, almost like he didn’t fully want to know the answer but asked before he could think about it. “Myself, Master Baggins, that is who! I am fed up with the ridiculous stubbornness of dwarves.” and off he went.

“Are you going to set off too, Miss Knight?” Thorin grouched, clearly fed up with the fact that the wizard stormed off. “No, I do still have a charge to take care of, my King.” I said, smiling ruefully. I was less than pleased at Thorin’s stubbornness, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. Besides, I didn’t want to leave the dwarves, and most importantly Bilbo, alone with whatever that thing or things are. Thorin tasked Fili and Kili with pony watch while Bomber set about making stew with the help of Gloin and Dori. I pitched in as much as they would allow me as well, wanting to be helpful. Bilbo approached me as we worked, Bomber unceremoniously handing him a potato to peel with one of his knives. “Will Gandalf be back, Miss Aria?” I hummed noncommittally. “He should be, hopefully. How long it takes for him to return is the question though.” The brows of my fellow cooks furrowed, trying not to let the idea of the very powerful wizard not joining them for a significant part of their journey due to a minor spat get them too distressed. Eventually, the sun had set entirely, the moon bright, and Bofur handed two bowls of stew off to Bilbo, asking him to bring them to the princes.

The three of them were gone for much too long, I heard Eclipse whinnying from the distance and immediately felt myself getting incredibly antsy. Fili and Kili ran out through the forest, panting and gathering their weapons. “Trolls…Bilbo…ponies…help!” Kili panted out, clearly distressed from the situation. “Wait…trolls?” I heard Bofur exclaim. I immediately shrugged off my jacket, allowing my wings to extend out and feathers sharpened into swords. I plucked two, extending them into full-size katanas. “There are three trolls, stone trolls I think, and they took a few of the ponies and Eclipse ran after them. We then convinced Bilbo to do his burglar thing and go get them but we can’t see him anymore and don’t know how he’s doing.” I immediately set out, Thorin and the rest of the company busying themselves in gathering weapons. “Aria, by Durin what are you doin'?!” Dwalin whisper-shouted. “I’m protecting my charge.” I responded, rushing off into the forest, silent.

It took me a while to spot Bilbo, and when I finally did, he was quickly snatched up and Kili drew their attention. I stayed huddled in the bushes, waiting and watching, mostly analyzing their skills as I quietly slunk my way over to the horses and ponies. I slashed through the ropes, allowing Eclipse and the four stolen ponies to run off, Eclipse protecting them from the back. Bilbo seemed completely discombobulated, trying to keep to the bushes and hunker down away from the tree-trunk legs of the three trolls. I quietly appreciated the incredible skill of the dwarves. I could easily tell why Dwalin was Thorin’s second-in-command; he was quite frankly terrifying with all of his axes. I’m surprised he didn’t slice clean through one of the legs. Kili and Fili seemed to work in perfect tandem, and pulled off some frankly ridiculous stunts, and seemed to be so incredibly armed they might as well be porcupines. Thorin was practically tackling one entirely on his own, easily mowing them down with his battleaxe. He also seemed incredibly aware, constantly looking around at his surroundings, checking to make sure his company was alright. I smiled softly at his protectiveness.

Unfortunately, while I was off in my pathetic la-la land, Two of the trolls spotted Bilbo and scooped him up, promptly insisting to the dwarves that they drop their weaponry. This is when I decided to come in, slinking out of the bushes, and catching Thorin’s eyes, motioning for him not to react to me and stall as much as possible. He watched me cautiously, proceeding to very, very, very slowly drop his weapons one at a time. Some of the dwarves seemed to get the message to go slow, however Kili, bless him, immediately chucked everything he was holding to the floor with an obstinate look, protective of the little hobbit.

I proceeded to spread my wings and silently jump into the air, floating silently in the air. My blades lined up with their arms as their eyes quietly bugged out. I quickly raised my blades, white hot flame licking up the sides, and brought them down with a swift swish, the air singing, and cut through their massive arms like sticks of butter. The three trolls didn’t even realize it at first, as I quickly caught Bilbo as he plummeted, flying quickly over the massive flame before settling him back on his feet by the rest of the company. A chorus of screeches and yells started from the two trolls who were one arm down, screaming in pain and extreme distress as they watched two of their arms plummet to the ground. The third, still two-armed troll, started screaming in equal distress at his compatriot’s painful misfortune. All three started for me, to which I still, swords raised and ignited as I stood stoic in front of the dwarves. However, my additional intervention was not required, as I heard a familiar voice call out, “The dawn shall take you all!” before cracking a boulder in two, allowing for the faintest creep of sunlight to peek out from the horizon. Thankfully it was enough to turn the trolls into stone statues, Gandalf coming down to knock his staff against them. He met eyes with me, sending me a little wink. I ended up remembering Sam talking about Mr. Bilbo’s stone trolls. I guess these were them.

“Are you all alright?” I said, turning around to the dwarves, who were picking up their weaponry, while Bilbo just seemed absolutely shell-shocked. A chorus of “We’re alright-” and “Thank you Lassie-” was heard. “That was quite an entrance.” Thorin said, eyes twinkling. “I’m glad I trusted you to do your work.” He leaned against his axe’s handle, relaxed. “I’m glad I also got the opportunity to see you all fight, you weren’t kidding about your skills. I was quite impressed.” I smiled, meeting his eyes. They seemed warmer in the firelight, and the night sky once again paled in comparison to his hair, the silver shining beautifully under the moon. “I got the ponies free while you were fighting, Eclipse should have led them back to the rest of them by now.” Thorin hummed appreciatively, before his attention was drawn away by some of the other dwarves beginning to meander their way back. “Miss Angel! Are you alright?” Kili asked, running up to me with his brother walking up a little later. “Yes, I’m quite alright Kili.” I blushed when he took my hand, the calluses on his hands registering due to his bowstring. Much quieter this time, he quietly murmured, “I’m sorry about earlier by the way…in the river.” blushing as he looked away from my face again. The two of us brought up the rear of the group, Fili bounding over to Bilbo to make sure he actually could move his legs, not so secretly flashing his little brother a cheeky wink, Kili lunging to kick him in the back of the knee. “Don’t worry about it Kili, it’s just a swimsuit. Besides….” I leaned down to whisper into his ear, “I don’t mind you looking anyway.” I squeezed his hand before letting go, laughing brightly as the sunrise began to peak over the treeline. Kili seemed to need to reboot, before his cheeks blushed and he chased after me, catching my hand once again while whining about me teasing him.

We took a bit of the day to rest despite the sun, I made sure to tend to some of the ponies who were understandably traumatized. Fili seemed to jump his brother and tussle him to the ground, probably teasing him. Gandalf wandered over to check on his horse. “Gandalf, trolls tend to have hoards, right?” he nods. “Trolls have hoards?!” Gloin exclaimed, running to join the conversation at the hint of treasure being involved. This quickly caught the attention of the rest of the dwarves, Bilbo drifting over to my side, mind still reeling. I gently rubbed his shoulders soothingly, and the dwarves quickly set off to go hunting for a treasure hoard. “Eclipse, keep them safe.” I said quickly, her winnying in response. Nori, seemingly having a nose for gold, quickly found the hoard, many of them packing as many of the gold pieces into a treasure chest (and their pockets) as they could manage. “I lit up a few small yellow lights in my hand, making them drift deeper into the room, which smelled absolutely vile. A few armored skeletons wearing ancient elvish garb soon explained the reason why, as well as the copious rats and general trollish stench. A sword’s pommel caught my eye, something I recognized from before-time. I picked my way around the various bones, Thorin seemingly also catching sight of the weaponry in the back, and joining me to look over them. I smiled after I cleaned off the scabbard, the elegant pommel shining untarnished as ever in the soft light. “Mithrandir!” I called to Gandalf, Thorin looking confused and interested as the wizard made his way over. “I believe this is yours.” He smiled warmly at the sword, before taking it to clean off on his own. “Do you know this one?” Thorin asked, cleaning off a massive and elegant sword with a tooth for the hilt. “That is Orcrist, both forged by the Gondolin elves.” He said, Thorin’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “It would serve you very well, Thorin. It is strong and sharp, and will never lose its strength. You could not wish for a better sword.” He met my eyes, and proceeded to draw it, disturbing the copious cobwebs. Gandalf found a little sword and gave it to Bilbo, I recognized it as Sting, and the rest of the dwarves had looted the cave to their heart’s content. “It suits you well, Thorin.” I said, smiling brightly at him. He drew it, practicing some swings, the fur of his coat and his hair moving perfectly. I don’t think he could exist and not look handsome. I desperately tried to beat away the thoughts of his tattooed back, grateful the cave was still relatively dark. “It is well balanced. I suppose leaving it to rot here would be a waste.” He resheathed it, looking in my eyes as he clasped it to his belt, silver rings on his hands flashing. “Come now, little knight. I don’t think there is anything of value left to take anymore.” He smirked, offering a hand to me gallantly, which I took. He stepped ahead of me, leading me out of the cave, and I gathered the lights as we went. After reemerging, Fili, Kili, and Dwalin swarmed their king, looking admiringly at the sword. I proceeded to gently pick some stray cobwebs out of Fili’s well groomed hair, him turning around to meet my eyes, before smiling sweetly and reaching up to do the same for me. Unfortunately, the light hubbub and excitement of post won-battle euphoria was quickly squashed with the sound of a rustling, everyone immediately standing at attention, and I smiled to myself seeing Bilbo draw Sting, even though he was shaking like a leaf at the thought of facing the impeding threats to come.