Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Iz was tired. She was tired of high school, tired of people, tired of thinking about her future. Just because she was a senior didn’t mean she had her entire life figured out, but from what people kept asking it seemed as though she should. Even Rose had everything figured out.

…

Okay, maybe her best friend didn’t have everything figured out, but at least she knew what she wanted from life and where she was going in September (France, the absolute betrayal). Rose didn’t even have the decency to be going to college, she was literally just leaving Iz to go Live Elsewhere For The Foreseeable Future.

She sighed, shifting on her bed to look at the fake-redhead currently sitting on her floor building the Lego set she’d had sitting on her desk for months. Rose glanced up at her, raising a blonde eyebrow in silent judgment.

“I need a vacation.” Iz groaned. Rose rolled her eyes and went back to her Legos. “Hey! Don’t judge me, I’m under a lot of pressure right now.”

“I know,” Rose said soothingly, “but your finals will be over next week and then you’re free for the summer. Technically that is a vacation.” Iz sat up and sighed again. She watched as her friend clicked pieces together rapidly, the shape of Hedwig becoming ever clearer.

“I need a real vacation. One without my parents looking over my shoulder, where I can forget my problems for a bit and just… live.” She said wistfully.

“We don’t got the moola for that, babe. Not to mention we’re seventeen for the next two months.” Rose glared at the directions, holding a not-quite-right owl in her hands.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Of what? That we don’t have money or that we aren’t legally adults yet?”

“Both.” Iz flopped back onto her bed, curly blonde hair scrunching beneath her head. Rose cackled.

A few minutes passed like that, Iz staring at the ceiling while Rose messed with the Legos. Eventually, Iz heard the tell-tale rustle of her friend’s skirt as she moved to sit beside her. Rose brought her purse with her, affectionately nicknamed the Mary Poppins Bag due to the sheer amount of stuff she could fit in there, and dug through it until she found her book.

“Are you seriously re-reading The Hobbit?” Iz said, plucking the red book from her friend’s hands.

“In my defense, it’s a very good book.” Rose snatched it back, flipping through the pages in search of where she left off.

Iz wrinkled her nose, “Too many complicated words.”

“If only we could fall into Middle-Earth. That would be the best vacation.” Rose smiled, settling in for a good, long read. Iz snorted. Camping outside for weeks on end, fighting orcs and dragons, living with the stink of dwarves? Absolutely Not.

Unfortunately, the next few seconds wouldn’t give her a choice.

Bright white light filled the room and the girls found themselves sitting in a grassy field under gorgeous blue skies in front of two impossible beings.

“You’re Valar.” Rose said reverently, staring wide-eyed at the beings. Iz turned her gaze to her friend. Confused blue eyes met too-excited hazel. “Iz, it happened. We’re in Middle-Earth!”

“Indeed you are.” One of the beings, a woman who looked like she was made out of tree bark with hair like willow branches and a voice like wind through tall grass, smiled and moved towards them, extending a hand to help them to their feet.

“I am Yavanna, and this is my husband, Aulë.” She gestured to the other being, who appeared to be made of rocks and metal, with eyes that glowed as though they were molten gold. “We have summoned you here because the Third Age did not end as it should have. Yes, the One Ring was destroyed, but the deaths of certain people were entirely unnecessary.”

Iz accepted the hand offered to her and stood, dusting off her jorts. She looked warily between the two… Valar.

“Yes! Yes of course we will help. Where do we start?” Rose was positively vibrating with excitement, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Wait a minute, why us? Why not someone more capable? I mean, we’re just a couple of teenage girls with zero experience.” Iz said, holding an arm out in front of Rose. Just in case she did something stupid like run into the forest in search of her book husband, Boromir (She swore she could single handedly keep him from falling under the sway of the One Ring).

“You have potential.” Yavanna replied, like it made sense. Iz was about to say something, but was cut off by Aulë.

“Because you are so young, we will grant each of you one boon.” His voice sounded like great boulders crashing against each other, sending reverberations through the girls’ skulls.

Immediately Rose cried “Turn me into one of those tiny Black-Footed Cats!” like the chaos gremlin she was. Yavanna smiled approvingly.

Iz thought for a moment, considering her options. “I would like the internet.” She decided.

“Unfortunately, we cannot provide that.” Aulë informed her, “Is there anything else you might want?”

“Fine, I want her purse,” She indicated a rapidly vibrating Rose, “with everything in it.”

“Done.” Yavanna snapped her fingers, and the purse in question dropped in front of Iz. She scooped it up, double-checking that the book was inside. It was, thankfully, as were a random array of probably-useful things. She’d take better stock later.

A small tan-colored cat with black spots curled around Iz’s feet, staring up at her with large hazel eyes. She meowed loudly, getting up on her hind legs as if asking to be picked up.

“Ah, you must be Rose.” Iz shouldered the purse and picked her friend up, scratching under her chin. Rose purred, wrapping her front paws around Iz’s arm.

“Wonderful! Now, your mission is to keep Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews alive. Do not tell anyone who is not already a Seer what you know. I will make it so that you girls can communicate with each other. Good luck!” Yavanna snapped her fingers again, and the ground beneath them fell away.

Iz screamed as she fell, holding tightly to Rose who was digging her claws into Iz’s forearm. A rounded wood ceiling materialized right in front of her, then she hit her head, and then the floor, and blacked out.

~~|~~

Bilbo Baggins was just trying to eat his cake when he heard a scream and a mighty crash from his entryway. He shot up from his seat and rushed towards the place the sound had come from. Had an animal gotten in somehow? He didn’t remember leaving the front door open. But the sight that met him when he arrived was no lost and confused critter.

A young human woman was splayed on the floor, appearing to have hit her head on the edge of his entryway table! A small pool of blood spread beneath her short blonde curls, and her skin was pale, too pale. A tiny spotted cat sat on her chest, desperately pawing at her face. It yowled pitifully when it saw Bilbo, staring up at him with soulful hazel eyes.

“It’s alright little cat. I’ll call for a healer from town.” Bilbo soothed, reaching out pet the cat’s little head. His own heart was beating rapidly, and his head couldn’t quite get past just how much the woman was bleeding. He grabbed the first cloth he could find- a tea towel from the nearby closet- and placed it underneath her head to hopefully stem some of the blood flow.

Just as he was about to grab his coat, a knock sounded at the door. He was not expecting company (He had quite forgotten that Gandalf was coming to tea), perhaps someone had heard the commotion? Bilbo opened the door and was rather startled when he saw a powerfully-built dwarf with tattoos standing at his door.

“Dwalin, at your serv- By Mahal! Is she alright?” The dwarf pushed past Bilbo and bent over the young lady, touching her head carefully. The small cat had not left the young woman’s side, and nudged her cheek with its nose.

“No, I don’t think she is. Uh, who are you, exactly?” Bilbo adjusted his robe, quite put off by the manner in which this visitor entered his home.

“Dwalin.” The dwarf straightened, then noted Bilbo’s own too-pale face. Something softened slightly in his eyes. “It’s alright, head wounds tend to look worse than they actually are. The others should be here soon, including our medic, Óin. They will help us carry her into a room and tend to her wound.”

“Right. Yes.” Bilbo nodded, tearing his eyes away from the red-soaked towel. “Wait- others?”

But Dwalin did not hear him, for another dwarf had arrived at the still-open door. This one had white hair and bore a familial sort of resemblance to the first. The two greeted each other warmly, bashed foreheads, then Dwalin gestured to the young woman on the floor and said something in a guttural language. The other dwarf’s eyes widened and he procured some bandages from his person, coming forward and hastily binding her head. The two of them picked her up, then looked towards Bilbo expectantly. He stared at them dumbly for a moment.

“Will you show us to a bedroom, laddie, so we may lay her on a more comfortable surface?” The second dwarf said kindly, noticing, as Dwalin had, Bilbo’s pallor.

“Oh! Yes, of- of course.” He led them down the hall and into one of his better guest rooms. He lit a few candles while the dwarrow set her down on the bed, which was too short for her. The small cat jumped up beside her and curled by her head, whimpering quietly.

“There, there little one.” The second dwarf said warmly, patting the cat’s head. Dwalin shook his head, then left the room to do who-knows-what. Bilbo stood nervously by the door, watching the white-haired dwarf check the wound.

“I am very sorry, I did not catch your name.” Bilbo did not know why they were in his house, but he was a gentlehobbit, and, as his father had drilled into his head many times, gentlehobbits were polite at all times.

“I am Balin, at your service.” The dwarf bowed. “Very kind of you to offer us your home and food tonight. Although the merry meeting is a bit marred by this young lady’s misfortune.”

Bilbo was about to ask what exactly Balin meant by that, when the sound of voices calling hesitantly from the open front door reached his ears. He huffed and left the room, finding two young dwarrow in the entryway.

“Fíli,” said the blond one.

“And Kíli,” added the dark-haired one.

“At your service,” They said together, bowing. Bilbo wondered if they’d practiced that.

“You must be Mr. Boggins!” Kíli grinned. Fíli eyed the blood on Bilbo’s floor warily.

“Baggins.” Bilbo corrected automatically. Dwalin entered from the direction of the kitchens carrying a small basin of water. He nodded to the other two dwarrow.

“Don’t mind the blood, lads. A young lady had an accident and hit her head quite badly. Go into the dining room and help our host bring out the food.” He ordered as he made his way down the hall to the room where the aforementioned young lady rested.

Immediately Fíli and Kíli shed their coats and weapons, leaving the coats on the coathooks and the weapons in a heap on the ground. They looked expectantly at Bilbo. Bilbo, for his part, was very confused, but also in a bit of shock and therefore on autopilot, so led them to the dining room, and then further to the pantry.

As they began bringing out all manner of dishes, Bilbo remembered that he had a pool of blood in his entryway, and went to clean it, finding a sizable cloth bag filled with various, seemingly random, items beneath the table. He must have missed it in the commotion of finding a young woman bleeding out on his floor. Bilbo took it to her room and set it beside her on the bed, figuring it must be hers. He did not miss the pattern of various labeled human-looking bones inked onto the cloth. Who was this woman? She was dressed in a light shirt of a cut Bilbo had never seen and short pants that did not quite reach her knees, made from a strange blue material. She wore no shoes or jewelry, save a simple metal stud in each earlobe. Now that Bilbo could observe her without getting stuck on the blood in her hair, she looked to be quite young, perhaps just into her tweens.

Then again, humans aged rather differently than hobbits, so who knew?

The front door had been left open, and more dwarrow arrived, one of which was pulled aside and brought to the young lady’s sickbed. Eventually, eleven (11) dwarrow and one (1) wizard were seated at a grouping of every large table (3) in Bilbo’s house, one (1) dwarf was in the other room caring for one (1) young lady, and one (1) small, striped cat was sitting in the middle of the table eating fish out of a shallow bowl chosen specially for her (they’d checked her gender, much to the cat’s annoyance) by Kíli (who was sporting quite a few scratches from the endeavor of checking said cat’s gender).

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Dishes were tossed about to the beat of a song, one Thorin Oakenshield arrived (“I lost my way. Twice.” he’d said, glaring majestically at a disgruntled and upset Bilbo. “So this is the hobbit. Looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” Which had set Bilbo OFF), it was revealed that Bilbo was to burgle a mountain guarded by a dragon (he almost fainted, but was caught by Balin, who had been watching him closely ever since he noticed Bilbo’s earlier shock and pallor), and Gandalf had joined Bilbo in the next room to have Words with him. (Meanwhile, in the dining room, the dwarrow had come to the conclusion that the human woman must be Bilbo’s apprentice, or perhaps his ward. Though, that did not explain why she had an amrâb akmâth. Perhaps she had recessive dwarrow blood?)

Just as the dwarrow seated at the table were about to start singing, a scream came from the guest room, accompanied by the sound of a feminine voice shouting in an unfamiliar language.

The cat, who had previously been watching the proceedings while purring quite loudly from an apologetic Kíli’s lap, bolted towards the sound, and the rest of them soon followed, crowding into the doorway of the guest room. The young lady was sat up, backed all the way to the top of the bed, holding the cloth bag in one hand. She appeared to have hit Óin with it, as he was backing away with his hands held up in surrender. He looked towards Bilbo in supplication.

“Why are you looking at me? What do you want me to do?” Bilbo asked, confused and upset by the events of the night.

“Well, she’s yours, ain’t she?” Óin, having come to the same conclusion as the other dwarrow, looked between them rapidly.

“No! Where ever did you get that impression? She just appeared in my house!” Bilbo exclaimed, panicked. The dwarrow began to shout, all confused, more than a few scandalized.

But then the young woman spotted the cat and called for her, holding her unoccupied hand out. The cat joined her on the bed and meowed, rubbing against her legs. The woman… responded? The two of them seemingly proceeded to hold a conversation, which shut all of the dwarrow up immediately.

~~|~~

“So, I hit my head, Dwalin and Balin brought me here, Óin took care of my wound, and then I woke up and freaked out because a strange, small, hairy man with a hearing trumpet was hovering over me.” Iz clarified.

“Yep. Plus I was violated by my favorite dwarven prince who was probably just trying to check my gender.” Rose meowed- which was weird, because Iz heard the meow but also heard the words in her head? She didn’t like it. Any of it.

She looked around, noticing all the dwarrow, plus a smaller, less hairy person with big feet (that must be Bilbo), and a tall gray-bearded man (that must be Gandalf) all staring at her like she had grown an extra head.

“What?” She snapped, glaring at them. Her head hurt. A lot. Apparently she’d been bleeding and scared Rose half to death. Anyway, having a bunch of strange men- male-presenting people?- in her space was Not Helping.

Eventually, Gandalf pushed his way to the front and stood in front of Iz. He said something to her in a language she did not understand, probably trying to ease her nerves or something equally as useless.

She stared at him, then, slowly and clearly, in English, said “I cannot understand you, Gandalf.”

The wizard raised his eyebrows at the mention of his name. He started to say something else, then thought better of it. Instead he pointed towards the dwarf who had been standing over her.

“I think he wants me to say his name, quick, tell me it, ‘cause I do not know.” Iz looked at her friend, who made a weird chittering sound that translated to laughter in Iz’s mind.

“That one’s Óin.” Rose supplied.

“Óin.” Iz said. Óin started, stepping back. Gandalf then pointed at the other dwarrow one by one, Rose supplied their names, and Iz repeated them dutifully. Each reacted as Óin had, seeming surprised she- or rather, Rose- knew their names, despite the fact she’d known everyone else’s. Gandalf then pointed at Bilbo, and Iz said his name without having to ask Rose, which Gandalf noticed.

The dwarrow whispered among themselves. Iz caught the word “Valar” being thrown around. Rose purred contentedly, laying against Iz’s legs. Her head really hurt. Didn’t Rose keep Ibuprofen in her bag? Iz moved to sit cross-legged and rifled through the bag until she found the small first-aid kit, and by extension the Altoids box in which was kept a variety of pills.

Grabbing three of the correct pills, she searched for a glass of water, finding one set on her bedside table. She gulped them down, then noticed that the room had gone quiet again and the dwarrow were looking at her fearfully. Rose laughed again, while Iz rolled her eyes and put away the first-aid kit. She stared down each of the dwarrow in turn, channeling her inner Rose, too nervous to stare down Gandalf, and too sympathetic to Bilbo’s current situation to subject him to her hopefully intimidating gaze.

The dwarrow shuffled uncomfortably, then one, a dark-haired dwarf with blue eyes and an authoritative air (Thorn or something), barked what sounded like an order to the others, and most of them left, except for Óin, Gandalf, Bilbo, and the authoritative dwarf himself. He approached Iz’s bed and met her confused and mildly annoyed stare with one of his own.

Rose snorted, “Look at him, being all majestic.”

“You call that majesty? Looks more like he’s awaiting the end of the world, poor thing.” Iz said pityingly. Rose cackled in Iz’s mind, her cat body only making more of those chittering sounds. Huh, cat laughter, she supposed.

Thor, or whatever his name was, glared at them, increasing his doom level by 40%. Iz raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. He said something to her, clearly expecting her to understand. Gandalf sighed and snapped something at the dwarf. Thin (seriously, what was his name) started an argument with the wizard, which continued for a good five minutes before Óin, who was beginning to be Iz’s favorite, stepped in and gestured towards her head, which was bandaged, she realized belatedly. Tori huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at the wall.

“Toddler much?” Rose muttered, flicking her tail. Óin came forwards and motioned for Iz to lower her head, which she did. As he checked her wound and replaced the bandages, Gandalf and Bilbo began speaking to each other. It sounded like Bilbo was trying to convince Gandalf to do something, and Gandalf was being resistant. Tori (she decided that was his name now) agreed with something Bilbo said, and Óin nodded emphatically, adding his opinion into the discussion. Eventually Gandalf relented and left the room, returning shortly with his staff in hand.

He pointed at Iz, opened and closed his hand in a talking gesture, and then pointed at himself and repeated said gesture. Iz looked at him blankly. Her head really hurt, and the ibuprofen wasn’t kicking in yet, and she really just needed to process, and wizards making hand gestures was not on the List of Things She Could Comprehend. Gandalf sighed, then raised his staff and said what must have been Magic Words because they made Iz feel weird and tingly.

“Ooooooh, he spelled you!” Rose said excitedly, “Did your wound heal?”

“Well, the pain’s still there, so… no?” Iz groaned, dropping her head into her hands.

“Did it not work? I cannot understand her.” Bilbo’s nervous voice said. Iz whipped her head up, then immediately regretted it when a spike of agony hit her head. The hobbit was definitely speaking another language, and yet Iz could understand him.

Having noticed her sudden attention and drawn a correct conclusion, Tori frowned at her, then at Gandalf. “What use is it if she can only understand the language, but not speak it?” He snapped at the wizard.

“She can speak it. She simply does not know it yet.” Gandalf said with a twinkle in his eye and a smile. Iz raised an eyebrow.

“You sure about that? Cause it doesn’t seem- oh. Nevermind then.” Said Iz in accented Westron. How she knew it was accented, she didn’t know. Rose cackled beside her, her cat body chittering as she rolled onto her back and flailed her legs. Dramatic fleabag.

~:~

amrâb akmâth: soul song

NOTE: Explanations for my dwarrow/dwarrow culture headcanons come later in the work :) -Egg

Chapter Text

“Who are you, and what is your purpose?” Tori demanded, glaring at her viciously. Rose was still laughing and flailing, an act that seemed to greatly concern Bilbo and no one else.

“My name is Iz. I’m from a place called California in the United States, and I was brought here by a couple beings named Yavanna and Aulë to help you in your quest. I don’t know how or why, but I’m here, and if I don’t go with you this dramatic fleabag will probably murder me.” Iz smiled tightly, catching Rose before she rolled off the bed. Now it was Tori’s turn to stare blankly at her.

“So I was correct. A Seer has been sent to us by the Valar. We must take great care she makes it to the end of this journey.” Gandalf nodded sagely, stroking his beard. Tori opened his mouth to argue, but Óin cut him off.

“A seer would be a great asset on this journey, Thorin.” The dwarf said persuasively. Bilbo nodded emphatically, probably thinking about getting roasted by a dragon. Iz, on the other hand, was thinking about how she finally knew Thorin’s name.

She hesitated for a moment, then decided to correct them. “Hold on, I never said I was a seer. I only know what happened the first time, I can’t tell you what might change, and I don’t know what will happen if I do change things.”

They all stared at her for a good minute before Bilbo asked what they were all thinking.

“What do you mean by ‘the first time’?”

Iz opened her mouth, then closed it again, searching for the right words and failing to find them. She looked to Rose for help, but the girl-turned-cat did not offer any insight, opting instead to sit quietly for once and study the others in the room.

“In my universe,” Iz began hesitantly, “Your quest has… already happened, sort of. I won’t tell you how it ended or any details about it, so don’t even try to ask. However, the Valar are apparently unsatisfied by the… results… so they sent us. To, uh, help.”

“So you are from the future.” Thorin stated. Rose snorted, a sound which, again, deeply concerned Bilbo and no one else.

“Uhh, no. I’m from a different world.”

“Elaborate.”

“I’d rather not.”

They stared each other down.

“How about we show Iz the map and discuss the, uh, risks and rewards of the quest as pertaining specifically to her?” Gandalf suggested, hoping to diffuse some of the tension.

“No need, I have a map of my own. I know the risks, and as for reward, I want a cut of the gold. One… fifteenth, isn’t it?” Iz said. Thorin opened his mouth to respond but was cut off (again) by Rose’s indignant cry. Or, yowl, she supposed. “Oh, that’s right. One sixteenth. And she will take the same.”

“She is a cat! What need has she of gold?” Thorin shouted in outrage.

Iz gave him her best offended look, “She is no ordinary cat. She is an anthill murder cat, and has plenty of need for gold. Simply because you do not know of these needs does not mean they don’t exist,” And because she was feeling petty, “Tori.”

Thorin swelled, his face going red at being addressed so brazenly.

“Oh, lass, you shouldn’t have done that.” Óin whispered, eyes wide. Bilbo, fearing for his life, fled the room.

“You would dare address me, the King Under the Mountain, with such disrespect?” Thorin hissed, “You know my name, you have said it before, do not attempt to make excuses, little girl.”

Iz steeled her nerves, looked Thorin dead in the eye, and said “You are not my King. I owe you no respect, dwarf.”

If Iz had understood Khuzdul, she would be well and truly horrified by the things being screamed at her. As it stood, she did not, and so was completely unimpressed when Thorin began yelling, and remained unimpressed when both Óin and Gandalf had to restrain him from jumping onto the bed and throttling her.

“Wow. I did not know you could do that.” Rose meowed, seeming more amused than anything.

“In my defense, I’m in a lot of pain and he apparently has a short fuse.” Iz replied. “It was bound to happen eventually.”

They succeeded in calming Thorin somewhat and sending him out of the room. Gandalf returned to her bedside and contemplated her. Óin refused to meet her eyes, and took to making some kind of tincture.

“Did you need something?” Iz asked Gandalf, breaking him from whatever thoughts he had been lost in.

“No, no. I am merely debating your presence and its… repercussions. I will leave you now. Rest well, someone will be in to wake you in the morning.” Gandalf smiled and left, muttering to himself in yet another language as he did.

Óin finished the tincture and poured it into a small glass bottle. “For the pain. Take only a sip at a time.” He instructed, then took his leave.

“What a great first impression we made.”

“Shut up.”

~~|~~

Iz hadn’t slept well. One, the bed, and by extension the blankets, were too short. Then, her head had woken her by clawing at the insides of her skull. Iz took another three ibuprofen to get it to calm down. Lastly, stress and anticipation had made it so that the fourth time she woke up, she didn't go back to sleep.

Sighing, she sat up and felt around for the bag, rifling through it and pulling out the flashlight. Using that light she struck a match and lit the candle at her bedside. It was a lesser illumination but she did not want the batteries of the flashlight running out on her. Rose woke up and hissed half-heartedly at her, stretching languidly on the blanket.

“Sorry, can’t sleep. I thought I might take stock.” Iz held up the bag.

“Go right ahead. I don’t even know what’s in there.” Rose meowed, “Anyway, I’m gonna go steal some food. Want me to get you some?”

Iz’s stomach responded for her. Rose cackled and headed out of the room, jumping up and managing to turn the doorknob on her own. Good for her. In the meantime, Iz unpacked the bag and made a mental list of everything in it.

A portable First Aid Kit, a small flashlight, a solar phone charger, Rose’s phone- it works! No internet or data though…, the Hobbit book, a Swiss Army Knife, a pouch with period products (Tampons and pads? Lucky her), a collapsible umbrella, and many other miscellaneous items that might be useful on the Quest. Although when exactly she would use a purple crayon, Iz had no idea.

She spread the items on the bed, deciding to put a notebook she found amongst the mess to good use and make a physical list. She then spent the next few hours poring over the beginning of the book and writing down possible ways they could avoid danger, minus a break to fetch and then eat the food Rose found.

When the sun rose, Óin came in to wake her and change her bandages, but promptly got very distracted by the array of items on display.

“What is all of this?” He asked, picking up a tube of sunscreen.

“Hmm? Oh, that’s sunscreen. It protects your skin from getting burnt in the sun.” Iz answered him distractedly, jotting down a few last ideas.

“What was that word?” Óin frowned. “Soonscrain?”

Iz blinked at him. “No, sunscreen. I guess you don’t have a word for it in Westron. Sunblock is what some call it. Oh so that translates but sunscreen doesn’t?!”

“How does it work?” Óin fiddled with the wrong end of the tube, trying and failing to tear the thick plastic open. Iz laughed and took it from him, opening the cap and squeezing some of the cream onto her arm. She proceeded to rub it in, a fascinated Óin watching as her skin absorbed it.

“Ta-da! Now my arm is sun-proof. Mostly. For a few hours.” Iz laughed delightedly at Óin’s almost childish expression of wonder.

“That is truly amazing! A cream that protects from the sun! How is it made?” Óin squeezed some of it onto his own arm.

“I’m not sure. We sort of take it for granted where I’m from.” Iz started packing up the Mary Poppins Bag, helped by Óin, who held almost every item he encountered up to the light to study it.

Before they left the room he changed her bandages and, finding the glass bottle still full, sternly reminded her to drink her pain tincture. Iz decided not to mention Ibuprofen, it might break him. They found the rest of the Company (minus Bilbo) in the dining room eating what food was left. Iz scanned the room for Rose who was being tossed pieces of bacon, some requiring her to jump almost to the ceiling to catch.

Iz and Óin sat towards the end of the table, in between an incredibly fat dwarf that she thought was named Bombur and a dwarf who was clearly Gimli’s father. Most of the dwarrow eyed her warily, especially a balding, heavily muscled dwarf who was covered in tattoos. Thorin didn’t look at her at all. Once she finished her food, an old dwarf with a kind look in his eyes approached her.

“Good morning, Miss Iz. I am Balin. If you wouldn’t mind reading over this contract I have prepared, it details the requirements, reward, and burial services offered for this quest. I did not include the dangers, as I am informed you are well aware of those, and was crunched for time.” Balin handed Iz the aforementioned contract.

It basically said that she would be required to give insight when possible, take one of the watches, defend the other members of the company, and care for the horse provided to her. It also mentioned her share of the treasure, the possibility of becoming a legend and having songs written about her, and that she would be buried in a marked grave should she die and the situation permits it.

“What do you think?” She asked Rose, who had jumped onto her shoulders and was reading the contract.

“I think it’s fair. I’ll bet theirs look much the same, minus the insight part.” Rose meowed. Iz nodded and signed with a pen from her bag (There was no way she was using a quill when she had a ballpoint pen within easy reach), handing it back to Balin. The old dwarf took it, hesitated, then presented a smaller contract to her.

“This one is for the cat. We can all agree she is not ordinary, and I am not fond of taking uncontracted strangers on quests.” He said decisively. Some of the other dwarrow snickered, but shut up when Rose began rather exaggeratedly reading the contract. Iz read it as well, and raised an eyebrow at some of the requirements.

“Distract the company from thoughts of death and doom and provide your own meals? Being a therapy animal should come with free food! What is the world coming to?” Rose sighed, shaking her head sadly. She held out a paw and was provided an inkwell, which she used to stamp her pawprint onto the line.

Balin took the contract and stowed it away with the other one, which seemed to be some sort of signal for everyone to get up and grab their bags. Iz hauled the purse onto her shoulder and headed to the door, only to stop when she realized she was wearing shorts, had no coat or shoes, and was about to go out into Middle freaking Earth for who knows how long. She turned around, intending to voice these thoughts, but was interrupted before she could form a word.

“Don’t you worry lass!” Called a grinning dwarf wearing a floppy hat, “We’ll stop by the markets in Bree to get you supplies and the like. For now, Gandalf’s got a spare cloak and boots- they’ll be a tad large, but you’re too tall for any of our clothes.”

“Oh, uh, thank you.” Iz said. Gandalf approached her and handed her the cloak and boots with a twinkle in his eye. The boots were a size or two large, but the cloak fit rather well with the help of a “borrowed” ribbon to act as a belt. The Outside was rather bright, and Iz was reminded of her probably-concussed head. She fished a pair of sunglasses from the bag, completing her decidedly odd outfit. As they headed out of the gate, Rose ran up with a piece of cloth in her mouth. She jumped onto Iz’s shoulders again, dropping Bilbo’s soon-to-be-forgotten handkerchief into Iz’s waiting hands. A dwarf with a star-shaped hairdo winked at her, probably assuming she had stolen it or something. Iz rolled her eyes, and the company continued on their way.

They picked up their ponies and Gandalf’s horse at the local inn, making their way out of town while the locals shot them dirty looks. Iz rode with Gandalf, the purse stowed in one of his saddlebags, and kept looking back to spot when Bilbo would come running up to them.

“He’s not coming, lass. Stop waiting.” Said the floppy-hatted dwarf not unkindly.

“You need to have more faith in him. He will come.” Iz turned again to look. Several of the dwarrow shared pitying looks. They were almost out of the borders of the Shire when Bilbo finally ran up, breathless and holding up his contract. Iz grinned, proud of the little hobbit even though she’d known he would come.

She laughed with the others when Fíli and Kíli grabbed him and forcefully placed him on a pony, and when he lamented the loss of his handkerchief several minutes later, Rose was right there to drop it in his lap. The cat proceeded to jump from dwarf to dwarf until she reached Thorin’s pony, where she bothered him until Fíli took pity on his uncle and snatched her away.

Chapter Text

Bree was not what Iz had been expecting. It had the vibe of an abandoned tourist town, and the locals leered at her, especially when the cloak slipped and revealed her bare calf. The dwarrow seemed to sense her discomfort, forming a protective circle around her as they navigated the market to find her travel clothing and boots. She was a bit surprised by this, given their hesitance to accept her, but Rose had hinted that it might be a cultural thing.

She’d been informed by Bofur- the hat-wearing dwarf- that they’d all heard Thorin’s yelling the night before. Some of them, like Balin and Bofur himself, either didn’t care or liked her more for it. Which was confusing, because wouldn’t people who respected their King hate someone who insulted him?

She decided not to agonize over it and count her blessings.

Rose had run off sometime earlier, and returned now with a mouthful of coin purse. She jumped onto Iz’s shoulders and dropped the pouch, which Iz caught at the last minute, taken by surprise.

“Where did you get this?” She hissed, clenching it in her hands.

“It was unsupervised in the Prancing Pony. Figured we could use the cash.” Rose purred, a cat-grin on her face.

Iz took a deep breath. “We do not steal money, Rose. Take it back.” But Rose only cackled and fled, disappearing into the market crowds. Iz let out a frustrated sound, stuffing the pouch into the Mary Poppins Bag. Maybe it could disappear in there.

Eventually the dwarrow decided she had enough clothing, and the group went to the Prancing Pony, purchasing a few rooms for the night and sending Iz into one to change. The clothing they had found, and insisted on buying for her (no agonizing, count your blessings), was simple- two pairs of brown pants with deep pockets (the dwarrow had been rather amused when she freaked out over the pockets. But, well, pockets!!), a few shirts in shades of blue, a belt with places to put weapons (she pushed the thought of telling the dwarrow she couldn’t fight into a box labelled “Deal With It Later”, which contained not a few building Existential Crises and Menty-Bs), sturdy steel-toed boots that went up to her mid-calf, and a warm gray cloak with a hood. She debated putting her hair up, but decided to leave it as it was, since it fell only barely past her chin and didn’t impede her much at the moment.

Supper was in the common room with the rest of the company, including Rose, who had evidently arrived covered in mud and mysterious liquid, and was being washed by an increasingly exasperated Bilbo. She grumbled at Iz, who only laughed and booped her nose, before sitting beside Bofur.

“So, Miss Iz from Another World, tell us something about your life.” Bofur said, sliding her a plate of food.

“There isn’t much to tell… Pretty much all of my time was dedicated to school.” Iz dug into the food. It was unseasoned, but it was edible, so she kept to her previous commitment of Not Agonizing and Counting Her Blessings.

“Ah, so ye are a scholar!” Glóin, who was across from her, cried. “What did ye study?”

“Oh, I just finished my general schooling, so, a little bit of everything I suppose.” Iz replied.

A younger dwarf, she’d forgotten his name, asked “How does schooling work in your world? Does everyone do general schooling? What of a person's Craft?”

“Ori, one question at a time.” Scolded an older dwarf who somewhat resembled the young dwarf. Ori deflated a bit, which made Iz sad.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Iz assured Ori, who brightened again. “Everyone does general schooling, yes, and there are several options for afterwards. You can go on to do more schooling, go to a trade school, or just go straight to working full time. Most people kind of do a mix, forge their own path. Different countries do it in different ways, too.” Ori pulled out a notebook and wrote everything down.

“And what’ll ye be doin, lass?” Glóin queried over the rim of a new tankard of…ale, probably.

Iz froze up. This question. She hated this question. “I’m… not entirely certain yet.” She admitted quietly.

“No shame in that! You’re still young I reckon, and time hasn’t trapped you quite yet.” Bofur clapped Iz on the shoulder, sending her a blinding grin.

“Hah, yeah. Expectations are just difficult to handle.” She said softly, feeling a bit queasy.

Glóin hummed, considering her words. “Aye, expectations. I cannae help but think of my own lad, Gimli. Of course I want him to become the best, but if he took a few decades to figure out what he wanted to be the best in, I wouldn’t be any less proud. I’m sure yer parents feel the same. Assuming yer talking about yer parents expectations o’course!”

Iz smiled. Logically, she knew that, but it felt different hearing it said out loud by someone else. “Thank you, Glóin. I’ll remember that.”

“Remember what?” Kíli asked, appearing suddenly behind Iz, who absolutely did not yelp.

“The lass is a scholar, Kíli! We were discussing her vast and terrible knowledge.” Bofur answered jovially.

“I was wondering why Ori was scribbling so excitedly in his notebook.” Fíli, who was never far from his brother, contributed. He leaned into Ori’s space, trying to read over the other’s shoulder, which made the other dwarf squeak and flush bright red. Huh. Noted.

“Aren’t you full of surprises, Mistress Iz. First you tell us you know the future, then you disrespect Uncle with no remorse, and now you’re a scholar! Not to mention your cat-that’s-clearly-not-just-a-cat.” Kíli grinned. Iz smiled in turn, finding his energy infectious.

Fíli, who was trying to snatch Ori’s notebook, seemed to suddenly remember why he came over, and sat himself on the table in between Iz and Bofur. “Mistress Iz, we had some questions about your cat.”

“I’ll do my best to answer, but first you must understand that she’s not my cat. She’s her own cat.” Iz informed her audience, that being the princes, Ori, Bofur, and Glóin as well as Nori, who had turned his attention to her at the mention of Rose.

“Right, right.” Kíli nodded, “First- what is she?”

“An anthill murder cat. I informed your uncle as much yesterday.”

“Does she also know the future?” Fíli asked next. Ah, so that’s what this was about. They were trying to figure out if Rose was like Iz.

“She knows more than I do.”

“Is it normal for her to steal people’s food and belongings?” That was from Nori.

“Yes.”

“Am I allowed to give her a tiny ax?” Glóin reached for his belt as though to grab said tiny ax before Iz cut him off.

“Under no circumstances should she ever be allowed to wield sharp objects.”

“How long has she been a cat for?” Ori piped up from his seat where he was still scribbling in his notebook.

“I mean, she’s always reminded me of a cat…”

Nori grinned, eyes alight as he watched Rose steal the chicken Thorin was about to eat. “Why can she not wield sharp objects?”

“She doesn’t need the ego boost.”

Kíli tilted his head, an innocent frown that was definitely practiced on his face, “Why is she a cat?” Iz was increasingly certain Thorin had put the princes up to this.

“Why not?”

“How do we address her?” Bombur’s booming voice caught Iz a bit off guard; she hadn’t realized he was listening.

“I usually call her ‘dramatic fleabag’ or ‘the effing cat’.”

“I mean, what is her name?” Bombur clarified.

“She has many names, it is impossible to pick one.”

“Can we have a list of all her names?” Ori eagerly flipped to a new page in his journal, pen poised to write every single nonexistent name down. It broke Iz’s heart a bit, but-

“I’m not just going to give away her private information like that! She’d never forgive me.”

Fíli studied her face intently. “Why can you understand her?” Iz smiled her most bland smile in return. If Thorin wanted answers he’d have to use his own powers of observation and not rely on his hot nephews.

The questions continued like that for a while, and Iz managed to fully redeem herself in the eyes of Nori, Ori, Fíli, Kíli, Bombur, and Glóin through the magic of humorously vague answers and Thin Mints. Nine down, four to go. Although she wasn’t sure Thorin would ever like her. Or the tattooed dwarf, Dwalin, she thought he was called. It was going to take her a few days to get everyone’s names down. Perhaps she should make note of them in the notebook. Tomorrow, she decided.

~~|~~

Tomorrow arrived with alarming speed. After breakfast, Iz, Rose, Balin, Bofur, Nori, and Thorin set out to find her a horse. They tried three stables before they found a horse that the stablemaster would part with for cheap. He was suspiciously happy to be rid of it, and showed them to the paddock where it was kept before disappearing back into the stables with his money.

The horse in question was an absolutely gigantic stallion, black and white, with long, shaggy hair especially around the hooves. Iz was pretty sure they were called Shire horses on Earth, although this one looked to be a mixed breed. As the group approached, the horse snorted and stamped its hooves, ears laying flat. Nori cursed, backing away from the beast.

“I knew that man was shifty. Is this horse even broken in?” Bofur gestured angrily at it. It whinnied and stomped some more, clearly telling them to back off.

“Uhhh, no. I doubt a dwarf could get on your back anyway. Iz here would be the one riding you.” Rose meowed to the horse. Iz gaped at her.

“You can speak to it?” She said, disbelieving. Rose shushed her and went back to listening to the horse.

“Can she speak to it?” Balin asked Iz. She nodded, eyeing Rose warily.

The cat tilted her head, “Well, I can’t guarantee that, but I can guarantee that there will be chaos!” The horse blew air out of its nose and walked forward, making the dwarrow back away fearfully, only for him to nose at Iz’s hand. She lifted it and pet his nose hesitantly.

“He has agreed to be your horse! As long as no dwarrow ride him.” Rose informed her.

Iz snorted. “Alright then. I guess I have a horse now. Do we need to get a saddle, or…?”

“No. Some of the others are taking care of that.” Thorin said, recovering his brooding and authoritative manner. He turned and walked out of the paddock, followed by the rest of the group and the horse, who didn’t seem to need a lead.

“He needs a name. What name do you think would suit him?” Iz asked Rose, who didn’t even need to consider before she replied.

“Jared.”

“Jared?”

Jared attempted to steal a passing child by lifting it from the back of its shirt. It took several minutes to get him to put the child down gently rather than drop it. The mother whisked it away with a glare and a curse about dwarrow and strange women.

“So, lass, what’s his name?” Balin asked when they returned to the Prancing Pony.

“Jared.”

Iz’s group ended up getting back first, which gave them a few hours of downtime waiting for everyone else. She took it as an opportunity to jot down notes on each of the dwarves, trying to remember everything she’d learnt about her companions the night before- which wasn’t very much, they were tight-lipped about their personal lives. Rose padded to her and started rifling through her purse. Iz watched her passively, lost in thought. Then the cat froze. And started digging around more urgently.

“What? What is it?” Iz shut the notebook and leaned down, trying to see what her friend was doing.

Rose looked up, eyes wide and panicked. “The book is gone.”

Chapter Text

Iz wanted to scream. Or hit something. Honestly, both sounded like really good things to do right now.

She’d searched all around the chair she was sitting in, the table they’d eaten at last night, her room, the hallways, the street outside the inn, the stables, everywhere she could without looking too suspicious. The rest of the company were either getting as much rest as possible in their rooms, or still out gathering supplies. Rose had gone to search the streets and had yet to come back.

Iz sat heavily on the ground in Jared’s stall, pulling at her hair. If the book was lost she’d have to rely solely on her fuzzy memories of watching the movie years ago and Rose’s recollection, which, although very good, couldn’t account for every detail they’d need. If the book had been stolen- if it got into the wrong hands- the language barrier would probably give the Company a few weeks, a few days at worst, but after that… she didn’t want to think about that. She might have to think about that.

Jared blew air out of his nose and nudged Iz. He seemed to sense she was in distress, and kept nudging her until she raised her head. He whinnied quietly, looking her in her eyes. It was strangely comforting, and Iz leaned her forehead against his nose, stroking his neck slowly.

The stable doors opened and Dwalin stalked towards her, dragging the princes by their ears, Rose looking smug on his shoulders. Iz got to her feet slowly, confusion and amusement mixing in her chest, thawing the cold panic a bit.

The three dwarrow stopped in front of her, Dwalin shoving Fíli and Kíli forward. They had their heads bowed shamefully, and Kíli snuck a guilty glance at her face. Iz began to suspect she knew what this was about.

“Tell her what you’ve done lulkhâ matarrâthân.” The warrior growled.

Kíli cringed, stuttering out half-formed apologies that didn’t do much to ‘tell her what they’d done’. Rose growled and hissed in one sound and Kíli snapped his mouth shut, face paling. Distantly, Iz wondered what her friend had done to make him react like that.

Fíli took a deep breath, “We, uh, noticed on the ride over and last night that you kept reading in this book and taking notes, and we thought it might be important to you, so we… stole it.”

“But!” Kíli interjected, finding his courage, “We had a good reason, we swear! We got you this.” He held out a strappy leather… thing with ties at some ends. Iz blinked, confused. She took it, if only to appease the young prince who was staring up at her with painfully familiar wide, earnest eyes.

“It’s a holster for your book. So you don’t have to keep digging through your bag to find it.” Fíli finally looked at her face, a tentative, apologetic smile tugging at his lips.

Iz took a deep breath, letting her panic flow through her arms and out her fingertips. Her initial anger was somewhat tempered with exasperated amusement, but she figured the princes could still use a good telling off.

“First, where is my book?” It was handed to her. “Thank you. Second, that was very thoughtful of you. Don’t look so happy, there’s more. Thirdly, do you have any idea how dangerous that was!? If this book came into the wrong hands, it could mean the end of this world. That is not an exaggeration. It would do you great service to keep yourselves out of things that do not concern you, especially things connected to Valar magic.”

Rose purred approvingly, jumping from Dwalin’s shoulders to sit at Iz’s feet. The princes mumbled more apologies, looking more somber than before. Iz hoped they understood the magnitude of what they were dealing with. And if this news reached Thorin, well… perhaps he would respect her a bit more.

“Now be off with ye, and go help pack. The adults need to talk.” Dwalin crossed his arms and frowned at the princes, who scrambled out of the stables with remarkable haste. Iz stiffened, not certain what the gruff warrior would want to talk to her about. She’d decided not to mention that she was, according to Rose, younger than the princes and Not A Legal Adult Yet.

“They’re such sweet boys, such a shame they don’t think things through.” Rose sighed, “This quest will be good for them.”

“If they survive,” Iz reminded her. “Don’t forget our purpose in being here.” Rose’s tail twitched, but she did not say anything further. Dwalin regarded the both of them, apparently waiting for their conversation to end. Iz raised an eyebrow at him.

“I apologize for the lads. They mean well, just have trouble looking beyond the now, if ye know what I mean.” The tattooed dwarf said.

Iz smiled softly. “That’s almost exactly what the cat said. And no need to apologize, they are adults in your culture, are they not?”

“Aye, but only barely. I’ve been charged with their safety by their mother, the Lady Dís. That, and displeasing one who knows the future is never wise.” Dwalin cleared his throat, casting his eyes to the side, “Besides, they need firm words, and they’ve long since grown indifferent to their Uncle and I.”

Iz’s smile grew. Perhaps she had misjudged the dwarf. It made sense that he would be suspicious of her, given her knowledge and how protective he was of the Durins. “Has the good Lady Dís charged you with the care of her brother as well, or is that a learned habit?”

Dwalin shook his head, a minuscule smile on his stern face. “I will admit my coming across the lads being hounded by the cat was pure chance, I had another purpose in coming to find ye.”

“Hounded?!” Iz hissed at her friend, who only grinned a cat-grin and found a new perch upon Jared’s broad back.

“I came tae ask ye what weapons ye prefer. We have extra, and prefer not to carry unnecessary weight. Thought ye may like tae borrow some, seeing as ye don’t have any of yer own.”

Iz flushed. Knowing this question was coming and actually having to respond were two different beasts. “I- uh, I don’t exactly have any experience with weapons? Like, I know a tiny bit about archery, but I’ve only done it a couple times and I wasn’t incredible at it. Back home we had these things called guns, which are basically more portable hyper-powerful crossbows, but I don’t have one.”

“Ye can’t fight?” Dwalin frowned.

“...no?” Iz cringed, clutching the book and harness a bit tighter.

Dwalin hummed, frown deepening for a moment. “I suppose we’ll just have tae teach ye then. Kíli can help with archery, and myself, Nori, and Glóin can teach ye axework. I hope ye don’t mind throwing axes, cause that’ll fit yer physique best. That and perhaps Thorin will take his head out of his rear end and teach ye swordsmanship.” He nodded as though all their problems were solved.

Iz opened her mouth, then closed it again, completely lost for words. He wanted to teach her how to use weapons? Why???

Dwalin seemed to sense her confusion, his expression softened and he laid a rough hand on Iz’s arm. “I don’t know how yer culture does it, but in ours the women fight. They are raklâ hadkhâna. Only a small portion of dwarrow population is born female, and as fiercely as we guard them, we know we cannae protect them from everything. Some o’ the company might take a while tae warm up tae ye, but we care for and respect all women, no matter what race ye are. And ye seem tae be a good woman, just unfamiliar is all.”

Iz nodded tearfully, the warmth from such an unexpected place throwing her off. She felt an ache in her chest completely unrelated to the words spoken to her. Dwalin patted her arm a few times before heading out of the stables.

“What’s wrong?” Came Rose’s soft, familiar voice. The box in the back of Iz’s mind burst, and Iz collapsed to her knees, great sobs exploding out of her, tearing her chest up as they came. Rose was in her lap immediately, pressing her nose to Iz’s in an attempt at a comforting gesture.

“I miss home. I miss my family. I miss knowing what to expect. I miss not having to learn how to fight to be safe. I miss showers. I miss being able to hug you properly. I miss my mom. And my dad. And fleece sweaters.” Iz clutched Rose’s small body to her chest, careful not to crush her. It was the only thing keeping her tethered in the sudden tidal wave of emotion.

“I know.” Rose purred, pushing her tiny face into Iz’s shoulder.

They stayed like that for a while, Iz’s sobs slowing down until they stopped completely. Jared had come closer and laid his snout on Iz’s head at some point. She finally got control of her breathing and set Rose down. The cat rested her paws on Iz’s knees, looking into her eyes.

“Why us? Of all the capable people in the world, why us?”

“I wish I had an answer. I really do.”

Eventually the girls returned to the inn, finding the rest of the company in the large room most of the dwarrow had shared the night before.

“Ho there! We were just about to come out to the stables and find ye! We’ve got supplies for ye, come grab them!” Bofur called out. Iz approached him, hoping she didn’t look too much like she’d been crying. She was handed an array of food, bedding, weapons (a bow and quiver of arrows, three throwing axes, a sword, four knives of various sizes), and soap, surprisingly.

“Soap? I thought you dwarrow never bathed.” Iz commented mildly.

Bofur laughed, shaking his head. “Aye, but a few of us thought ye’d appreciate it. Yer clothin’s still in yer room, and Gandalf has yer saddlebags and that other bag of yours.”

Iz thanked him and dropped her pile off by Gandalf, who added the bags to it, before heading upstairs to grab her clothes. Óin met her on the stairs and handed her a few vials of medicine and herbs from a box he was carrying. Apparently everyone would get some, so that if Óin lost his supplies they wouldn’t be completely ruined.

Half an hour later found the company in the stables, saddling up and making ready. Iz stared at Jared, then at the saddle that had been placed over the stall door. How on Earth- sorry, Middle-Earth, was she supposed to get that heavy thing all the way up there? Rose cackled, having spotted the same problem as Iz.

“Shush you.” She snapped, glaring at her friend. The cat only cackled more.

Bofur and Nori took pity on her and helped her haul the saddle up, making use of a stool they found by the wall. They then stayed and taught her how to properly affix the saddle and saddlebags. She managed to haul herself up into the saddle without help when they all got outside, remembering from the few times she’d ridden a horse back home.

Jared didn’t need much prompting to get going, he just waited until Iz was settled and found a spot in the back of the line, next to Bofur and Bilbo. Iz listened to their conversation with half an ear, having affixed the book harness to her thigh while up in her room earlier and deciding she should start really planning for the trolls.

It was bright out, and although she’d made the executive decision that she wasn’t concussed, her head still throbbed. The sunglasses made an appearance on her face for all of two minutes before being snatched away by Kíli. Iz fished the second pair out (a cat-eye variety) and offered them as trade. It was accepted.

Rose switched her perch to Kíli’s pony at his prompting, and they rode ahead to bother Fíli and Ori. A scuffle ensued, the sunglasses passed from Kíli, to Fíli, back to Kíli, to Nori, to Ori, to Fíli again, and finally to Gandalf, who confiscated them for good by placing them upon his face and declaring that his “old eyes need protection from the harsh rays of the sun”.

Somehow, despite everyone’s best efforts, Rose ended up in Thorin’s hood for the rest of the ride.

~~|~~

The first night spent on the side of the road was uncomfortable.

Everything from the soreness in muscles she never knew existed to the less-bland-than-the-previous-night-but-still-pretty-bland stew to the way Fíli and Kíli teased Bilbo for his perfectly legitimate fear made Iz want to curl up and die. Instead, she sat down on a log next to Dwalin and ate the stew with no complaints. Thorin stood majestically at the edge of the firelight while Balin told the story of the battle of Moria.

Iz clocked the way Bilbo was looking at Thorin, as though at some great hero from the old Elvish tales Rose had tried to get her to read back home. And was that… something deeper? No. No way. There was no possible way that Bilbo Baggins had a crush on Thorin Oakenshield. The dwarf had been nothing but rude to Bilbo!

“What are you scowling about?” Rose asked, settling herself comfortably on the log next to Iz.

“Look at Bilbo.” Iz said, hoping she’d misread the expression on his face. Her hopes were dashed when Rose started cackling delightedly, hazel eyes sharpening with an absolutely feral gleam.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” She purred. Iz shook her head, disappointed. The one sane member of the company in a similar situation to herself just had to be attracted by the moping blockhead that was Thorin Oakenshield.

Dwalin eyed the two of them, “What’s that expression for, lass? Is it just the soreness settin’ in, or is there more to it?”

“I’m coming to the realization that there are very few reasonable members of this company.” Iz sighed.

“I could’ve told ye as much before.” Dwalin chuckled, patting Iz on the back.

The discussion for the rest of the night devolved into storytelling from the group comprising of most of the dwarrow and Bilbo and a “How To Properly Care For Your Axe, As It Is The Thing That Keeps You Alive And Also Your Baby” lesson from the group comprising of Dwalin, Iz, Glóin, Bofur, Kíli, and Fíli.

Iz was handed a grinding stone, a vial of oil, a small container of beeswax, and a cloth. The dwarrow (mostly Dwalin, who seemed to have appointed himself as her teacher) walked her through how to maintain the handle of the axe (“Ye aren’t really gonna need to do anything until we reach the mountain, these axes are rightly well taken care of, but it’s good tae know anyhow.”), how to sharpen the blade (“Even pressure, lass, ye’re goin’ lighter at the ends there.”), and how to generally manoeuvre without banging their handles against every obstacle she encountered once she strapped them into her belt (“Not nearly as bad as a sword, but still annoyin’ when ye aren’t used tae it.”).

By the time they decided to settle down for the night, Iz had walked, ran, and hopped (Kíli’s idea) through the makeshift obstacle course Fíli and Bofur had set up during the lesson enough times to satisfy Dwalin, and had proved to Glóin that she could, in fact, maintain even pressure on the blade while sharpening it.

She attempted to set up her bedroll separately from the rest, only for it to be unceremoniously dragged near the remains of the fire by Bofur, who set up directly beside her.

“I told ye, lass, women are well-respected by dwarrow. Ye’ll be stayin’ close to the center, where we can protect ye.” Dwalin said in response to Iz’s confused sputtering. Rose, who had settled comfortably in Kíli’s lap during the Lesson, had absolutely no problem flopping onto the bedroll and taking up all the space despite being little more than a foot long.

Iz once again decided to count her blessings and keep her mouth shut. She checked in on Jared, finding him staring Thorin down from across the camp. The King Under the Mountain was becoming increasingly disturbed, deliberately avoiding looking at the horse, and trying not to show how much he was squirming under the unwavering, slightly malicious gaze. Iz gave Jared an apple for his efforts.

She grabbed the Mary Poppins Bag from the pile of saddlebags that were assigned to her and made her way back to her bedroll, sitting on the end not occupied by 4 pounds of Tiny Murder Cat. She pulled out the notebook and, by virtue of the low firelight, updated her List of Friendly Dwarrow to include Dwalin. Then she checked over her notes once more. Rain soon, then the trolls. Rose had mentioned inconsistencies in orc attacks and timing between book and movie, so Iz had devised several Plans, all of which had holes, and none of which she could achieve without outside help.

“You gonna sleep or agonize over the details for the thousandth time?” Rose asked, one eye cracked open to observe her friend.

“I wish I could know for certain what will happen once we hit the Trolls and their Hoard. I hate not knowing when attacks are gonna happen.” Iz groaned, flopping over on top of Rose. The cat hissed and swatted at Iz until she was let up, at which point she huffed and ran off to keep watch with Dwalin, clearly over her friend’s anxiety.

Iz took off her belt and shoes, sliding onto the bedroll with her back to the dwarrow, facing the fire. She noticed Bilbo had not been given the same privilege as she, instead bedding down on the edge of the firelight almost directly opposite Iz. He noticed her watching him and gave her a tentative smile, to which she responded with one of her own.

She and Bilbo had not spoken much, but what conversation they had exchanged had been friendly. Iz decided she would make more effort to speak to him tomorrow. Hopefully they could be friends in time for him to save them all from the trolls.

Chapter Text

“So, Bilbo. What is your opinion on potatoes?”

Bilbo gave Iz a strange look. She knew it wasn’t the best opening line for a conversation, but she couldn’t think of a single hobbitish fact she might know that didn’t have to do with the future or hobbits that weren’t born yet (Rose refused to help her out). Potatoes it was.

“They’re a surprisingly versatile root vegetable.” Bilbo answered hesitantly. His pony looked almost comically small next to Jared’s hugeness, and the poor hobbit had to really crane his neck to meet Iz’s eyes.

“I agree. The fleabag up there adores them. Thinks they’re the greatest thing ever created.” Iz said, smiling at the memory of Rose eating an entire mixing bowl full of mashed potatoes for dinner not a month ago.

Bilbo frowned, studying Rose where she attempted to balance on the brim of Gandalf’s pointy hat. “I did not know cats could eat potatoes…”

“Not raw potatoes. But if you peel and cook them they’re safe.” This is true, she’d looked it up when one of her actual cats had stolen some of her roast potatoes. Luckily, she was white and from pioneer stock, so potentially upsetting seasoning hadn’t been an issue.

“We should totally feed the cat potatoes at dinner tonight!” Kíli butted in, riding up beside Bilbo, “Do you think Bombur would be okay with a change of dinner plans?”

“I’m not sure, perhaps you should ask Master Bombur himself.” Bilbo said shortly, still holding a grudge from the scare last night.

Kíli looked sad and a little confused by Bilbo’s dismissive attitude towards him, so Iz took pity on the poor dwarf and offered to ride up the line with him.

Bilbo huffed and stuck his nose in the air a little as the two left. Iz shook her head, deciding that dwarrow were not the only horribly stubborn folk to walk Middle Earth. Though, really, he had a point.

“Bombur! Can we please have potatoes for dinner? I want to feed them to the cat!” Kíli grinned broadly, leaning into the large dwarf’s space and getting dangerously close to falling off his horse. Iz gently grasped the back of his cloak and pulled him upright.

Bombur glanced at Iz, raising an eyebrow in silent question. Iz had no idea what he was trying to ask but nodded anyway. This seemed to be the correct answer, for Bombur grumbled a little but ultimately agreed to change the meal plan. Kíli cheered, speeding off to fetch Rose and give her the good news.

“Make sure some of the potatoes are peeled but unseasoned when you cook them, cats can get sick from the wrong herbs or fats.” Iz told the cook quietly.

“Of course, Miss Iz. Thank ye for entertaining the lad, he’s taken quite a shine to ye.” Bombur smiled, broad and warm and kind.

Iz laughed a bit awkwardly, fidgeting with the book harness that fit snugly around her thigh. She remembered the earnestness in the boy’s face when he’d presented it to her, the way that, for just a moment, Kíli’s face had looked like her little brother’s, and felt a comfortable warmth settle in her chest. “He’s a good kid. Which is weird to say because I’m pretty sure he’s older than me.”

“Not maturity-wise he isn’t. You may be younger than him by years, but humans and dwarrow age differently and women have always matured faster, regardless of race.” Dori, a dwarf she hadn’t had much occasion to speak with, said from where he rode on Bombur’s other side.

Bombur nodded in agreement, “That’s very true. If he were human, or you dwarrow-dam, ye’d most likely be the same age, or quite near to it. He’s only just into adulthood, ye know.”

“So it’s still weird to call him ‘kid’, and my point stands.” Iz responded. Just then Kíli tried to stand on his pony’s back while holding a cackling Rose in one hand and warding off his brother’s jabs with the other. “Or maybe it’s completely reasonable and I should trust my gut more.”

Dori shook his head, muttering under his breath. Iz winced. Maybe she should talk to Rose about encouraging the princes’ craziness.

“I also wanted to thank you, Miss Iz.” Dori said suddenly. Iz blinked, looking at him with palpable bewilderment. “For being kind to my brothers. Prince Kíli isn’t the only one who’s ‘taken a shine to you’.”

“Aye, that’s true!” Bombur laughed. “Bofur has taken to ye like a duck to water! And I’ve never seen Dwalin lower so many of his walls so quickly, especially around a human. Though ye did have some advantage, what with-” Dori elbowed him sharply, and Bombur shut up. Iz didn’t really notice, too focused on his earlier words.

She flushed and fidgeted with Jared’s reins. The dwarrow had indeed been very quick to accept her, despite the fact that she was basically useless at survival and was only on the quest because Gandalf insisted. The two dwarrow were now openly laughing at her, Bombur giving her a pat on the leg he could reach.

“Now what have ye done to the poor lass, she’s red as a tomato!” Bofur cried from up ahead where he’d turned to see who was laughing so uproariously.

“She’s embarrassed she’s so well liked!” Bombur called back, “Seems she wasn’t expecting it!”

Bofur smiled brightly, “Well I cannae say I was right expectin’ it either! But it’s a good thing lass, don’t ye worry.”

Iz just sighed, pitching forward to lay over Jared’s neck. The horse snorted and tossed his head a little, to which Iz responded by stroking his neck. A compromise, she could lay on his neck if she also gave him pats.

“If any of these good people are hurt, I am going to riot.” She told Jared. He did not understand her, and would not agree with her. Ah, well. Rose would stop him from trampling anyone. Probably.

Wasn’t she supposed to be making friends with Bilbo? Iz sat up and glanced back. Bilbo was riding next to Balin in what appeared to be comfortable silence, and Iz figured he wouldn’t appreciate more potato questions at the moment. She flopped back onto Jared’s neck, letting the ambient sounds of the dwarrow and nature lull her into a comfortable half-sleep.

~~|~~

Kíli pointed out a bird sitting on one of the branches near them. “Try again, remember the tricks I taught you.”

Iz drew back the short recurve bow the dwarf had handed her an hour ago and took aim. She let the arrow loose and completely missed the bird, the arrow flying off into the branches below it. The bird startled and flew away, and Iz groaned in frustration.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it eventually! And that was a lot closer than the first time!” Kíli grinned brightly at her.

The company had stopped for a break and Kíli had come to the decision that now was a good time to teach Iz how to use a bow better. She knew how to string the bow, courtesy of her older brother, and she could usually hit the target at home, but using the bow on live, small, variously shaped targets was a different ballgame entirely.

Fíli, who’d ran into the woods to fetch the arrow, returned and handed the arrow back with a flourishing bow. Iz smiled and accepted it, nocking it once more and scanning the woods for a new target.

Dwalin stood nearby, positioned so he could both oversee her training session and where Thorin was sitting eating some bread and attempting to match Jared’s stare. The horse took great pleasure in unnerving the King, staring him down at every opportunity, encouraged by Iz and Rose, the latter of which occasionally joined him in his endeavors.

Rose was not there at the moment however, having decided to also practice her hunting skills. Iz hoped she was having better luck.

“Again. Try that squirrel there.” Kíli pointed at a different tree, closer than the last one.

Iz took aim once more, then let the arrow fly. It thunked into the tree, and the squirrel attempted to escape, only to realize it had an arrow through its tail. Fíli and Kíli cheered loudly, and Dwalin smiled in a proud sort of way. Iz grinned broadly.

“Here! Go over there and use this to kill the thing.” Nori tossed a small sheathed knife to Iz. She examined it as she walked, noting the fine etchings on the handle and, once she unsheathed it, down the blade.

The squirrel screeched as she approached, sensing its impending doom, redoubling its efforts to free itself. Iz braced herself, raising the dagger and then plunging it into where she thought the creature’s heart might be. It stopped moving, hanging limply from the arrow. Iz gagged, hating that she had to kill the thing for food. Was it even for food? The company looked to be getting ready to move.

She returned with her “prize”, as Kíli put it, and handed the dagger, which she’d cleaned on her tunic, back to Nori. Bombur came over and took the squirrel from her, humming appreciatively.

“What will you do with it?” Iz asked. The large dwarf examined the squirrel from all angles before replying.

“There ain’t much meat on the thing, but it’ll make a good morsel for the cat. If she had trouble huntin’ for herself, that is.” Bombur said, glancing towards the trees where Rose had disappeared.

Fíli suddenly gasped, pointing at Bombur. “Morsel! That’s a good name!” He cried. Kíli scrunched up his face in disagreement.

“It’s too dainty. She’s not a dainty cat. She’s fierce, and murderous.” He argued. Fíli opened his mouth to retort, but Iz cut him off.

“Uhh, what?”

“We’re trying to find a name for the cat, since ye refuse to tell us her name.” Nori informed her.

“She has too many, she doesn’t need more!” Iz protested. This got an eyeroll from the thief.

Suddenly, Rose appeared, jumping onto Bombur’s large shoulders and staring intently at the squirrel. Bombur offered it to her, and she accepted, taking it in her mouth and going over to Jared to eat it. The thing was almost as big as her, yet she somehow managed to devour it in less than a minute.

“That’s kinda gross, you know.” Iz said as she approached.

“You try jumping around all day and not getting ridiculously hungry.” Rose growled back. She clambered up Iz’s side and used her shoulder to hop over to Jared’s saddle, the horse nickering in greeting.

Iz absently pet a hand down his nose, watching the sky for storm clouds. She felt something building in her gut, an insistence that the first Event- the Storm- was about to occur. Maybe this was another Boon from the Valar?

“What are ye lookin’ fer?” Bofur asked. He also started scanning the sky, which prompted Nori to do so as well.

Iz blinked at them, noting their tense postures, Nori’s hand hovering near his dagger. She shook her head, climbing into Jared’s saddle. “Storm clouds, Bofur. Be at ease.”

The dwarf nodded, signalling to Dwalin, who Iz just noticed had taken a defensive stance near Thorin and the princes, glaring at the sky as though it had gravely insulted his mother. Iz shook her head again, adding in a sigh for good measure while Rose cackled delightedly.

As the company set off, Iz dug the umbrella out of her bags, using some rope to tie it to her saddle’s pommel. Ori came over to ask questions about it, noting down everything Iz said and drawing several diagrams. By the time the storm rolled in, she was quite comfortably set up, working out strategies for the whole Arkenstone ordeal, Rose chiming in with the occasional insight. The shelter wasn’t perfect, her feet and calves still got wet, and sometimes the wind would blow rain into her little bubble, but it was better than nothing.

The dwarrow and Bilbo were quite miserable, first asking Gandalf if he could stop the rain (“It is raining, Master dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.”), then asking if he could conjure some “embrallas” for them (Iz had tried to get the dwarrow to pronounce it correctly, but gave up after a few tries. Only Ori and Bilbo got the pronunciation right, a feat they seemed to take great pride in). When that was also rebuffed, they settled for complaining, glaring at everyone and everything, or trying to get close enough to Jared to get beneath Iz’s shelter.

Jared did not appreciate that, and tried valiantly to bite anyone that came too close. He succeeded a few times, much to Iz’s chagrin and Rose’s amusement.