(Prologue) A Hush Fell Over the Crowd
Author's Note:: So, I've decided to funnel my newfound love for the Hobbit into this story. I haven't written fan fiction for a story so complete as the Hobbit before, so we'll see where this takes us! Anyway, this is based on the movie world, largely because it's more recent in my mind, and I hope you enjoy!
"People take on the shapes of the songs and the stories that surround them, especially if they don't have their own song." (Neil Gaiman, Anansi Boys)
The man stood quietly in the center of the room, listening to the sounds of the house. There was nothing but the quiet creaking of a house at night and a faint whistle of wind from outside. Slowly he placed one foot in front of the other, careful to keep his steps quiet as he moved to the small hallway, his eyes still searching and ears straining for any sound. There had been nothing in the kitchen. Nothing in the sitting room. That left only the two bedrooms. He stood in front of the door to the larger of the two bedrooms, and slowly pushed the door open carefully, quietly. His eyes did a precursory scan of the bedroom. The sheets lay flat against the bed, tucked in neatly. The bed skirt remained un-rustled. Everything was normal there. He moved his eyes from the bed to the window, his eyes squinting a little at the unexpected sight. The drapes were pulled closed. Quickly, he crossed the room and threw the drapes open, revealing nothing but the moon. He froze for a moment, staring at the moon as the light shone around him, faintly illuminating the room with its pale light. Quietly, he turned back around and rested another moment, absolutely alert. The wind blew outside the window again, slightly shaking the frame, and he moved away, back towards the door. That's when he heard it. It could only be from one place. As swiftly as possible, he moved around the edge of the bed and grabbed a pair of legs, sliding a wriggling girl out from underneath. She shrieked as he took up the small girl, no more than six or seven years old, into his arms
"You found me!" she smiled, peering into her father's face. Her large brown eyes wide and filled with mirth.
"You may get away with your trick next time should you not giggle." He tapped her nose causing her to giggle again. "But now that I found you, it's time."
"Now?" she questioned. It was meant to be a protest, but in the middle of the word a yawn overtook her, proving his point.
"You know the deal," he said. "When you get better at hiding, you'll be able to stay up later." He walked out of his bedroom and into the hallway where his wife waited. She stretched out her arms, receiving the little girl as he walked into his daughter's room. He pulled the covers down so that his wife could place the child directly onto the bed, and after seeing his daughter gently laid on the mattress, he helped his wife pull the covers back up, tucking their daughter in.
"Goodnight, dearest." His wife said, leaning over and kissing the girl's forehead. "See you in the morning."
"Goodnight, Mom." The girl returned, as her mother moved away from the bed.
"Are we ready for the story, then?" the father asked, sitting down on the side of his daughter's bed.
"Can you sing a song instead?" she asked looking back up at him. Her long brown hair, fanned out like a halo around her head.
"If that is your wish." He answered, looking up at his wife who stood against the door, smiling her soft smile and waiting for him. "Which one?"
"I'll start." She said, her soft voice echoing through the room before he ultimately joined in.
….
In the shadow of the Lonely Mountain
Lies a city destroyed by fire
Once prosperous, it now waits forgotten
For those of us who still conspire
….
Our ancestors and their dwarven friends
Of the city and mountain behind
Once close bonds formed over trade and gems
And thus their fates intertwined
….
But the treasures of the King had great allure
Its grandeur known in distant lands
It reached his ears and there was no cure
His desire took over; he made plans.
….
Then came the day the sky turned red
As the beast arrived with raging flame
Faces paled and hearts filled with dread
For they knew what he came to claim
….
The men all fought quite valiantly
To defend the city and mountain, too
But he was too much and his brutality
Left many dead, and all hope fell through
….
The mountain fell soon without our aid
Both homes destroyed, the survivors fled
We failed our friends, they were unmade
And now there's naught to be done or said
….
Should we have the chance we must atone
For our failures great and their unending pain
We shall our sorrow and loyalty make known
The King Under the Mountain again must reign
….
There was a moment of silence after they finished the song.
"Is he still there in the mountain?" the small girl asked quietly her large eyes peering up at her father. "Smaug."
"You know he is." Her father answered tightly.
"I'm sorry. I forgot." She apologized innocently.
"You must never forget." Her father said softly, his face softening as he pulled the covers up a little more. "You must never forget your home or your kin who were lost. It is what defines us and presses us forward."
"I won't forget anymore." The little girl said with a yawn as her father bent over to kiss her forehead goodnight. "I promise."
He smiled at her, "I love you, Gry."
"I love you too, Dad." She mumbled back, her eyes closing as she drifted off to sleep about the city in the shadow of the Lonely Mountain.
- 19 Years Later -
There were many women in Bree who were cursed to labor at jobs that they despised. The seamstresses continuously pricked their fingers throughout the day, the scullery maids' fingers were always pruned from scouring the floors and pans all day long, and the housewives had to continuously lock their fingers in prayer so that they did not go crazy from caring for incessantly screaming children from sunrise to sunset. Gry thanked her lucky stars every day that she did not hold one of these jobs, and that while many women were off doing the less desirable, yet essential, jobs, she was able to work at the Inn of the Prancing Pony every night and listen to the stories of seasoned travellers.
Of course, listening to stories wasn't listed as one of her official duties as a barmaid/waitress, but she had managed to convince her boss that having a willing ear to listen to tales, not only convinced patrons to stay longer to tell their stories and thus order more beer over the length of time, but it gave them a place to come back to after each journey where they could share hyperbolic versions of their exploits. While the argument had started out as mere conjecture, it had soon proved itself to be true, and thus Gry was never yelled at when she chose to sit down at a table and listen to some stories for half an hour or so. Yes, Gry had certainly lucked out when it came to her work, and as the seasons passed, she always spoke fondly of her time there. But, like all good things, her time at the Prancing Pony came to an end, and all because of a lone dwarf that wandered in and sat himself in front of the fireplace one rainy night.
Ending Thoughts:: I'll admit that the song was not my finest composition, but I loved the idea of a little girl singing along with her father since she'd heard the song so many times. It reminds me of the cute cover video of: "Tonight You Belong to Me." Except, this is about a terrible tragedy. So, leave a review, and let me know what you think!