A/N: I'm back from the dead! This story has been sitting on my laptop for the better part of two years so we're just gonna post it! Hopefully, I will get a chance to write the last couple of chapters within the next few months. I'm planning to upload one chapter a week but I can't make any promises. :) Enjoy!
Clang! Clang! Clang! The sounds of metal-against-metal filled the small smithy. Heat engulfed every pore of space. Steam rose where hot metal was rapidly cooled in water only causing the heat to rise within the cramped space. Sweat clung in droplets to my skin as I worked tirelessly beating metal on my anvil. A knock on the door pulled me away from hammering at the sword I was working on. "We're closed, come back tomorrow," I called to whoever my customer was. I was in no mood to deal with insane demands for weapons.
"Is that any way to treat a weary, weather-beaten, and more importantly old friend?" a gruff familiar voice asked.
My dark eyebrows furrowed as I glanced up from my work. Standing in the doorway of my smithy was a gray-cloaked old man with a long gray beard and pointy gray hat. A small twinkle in his pale eyes and the barest hint of a grin on his lips as I dropped my hammer and got to my feet.
"Gandalf?" I breathed with a grin as I crossed to him and engulfed him in an embrace. He was quite taller than me given he was a wizard and I wasn't even fully human. "How are you old friend?"
He chuckled and patted my dark braided hair, "As I said before, weary and weather-beaten." I giggled in return and gestured for him to sit.
"I have tea if you would like some?" I questioned.
The old wizard removed his hat as he sat down on a smallish stool compared to him. "I would be glad for some, thank you."
Moving swiftly into the adjacent kitchen I quickly heated some already made tea over a roaring fire before pouring it into two mugs. "Here we are," I said as I handed Gandalf the mug before sitting down myself. "Not that I don't enjoy your company, old friend, but to what do I owe the pleasure?"
A small smirk crossed his lips, "To the point, just like your grandfather." I smiled at the compliment. "You've got his green eyes too, the envy of every dwarf because all the dwarf women were so smitten with them."
I rolled my eyes, "I have heard you say that before, more times than I can count these last thirty odd years. Why are you here? You only ever visit once a year, if that, but I just saw you not seven months ago coming out of the Prancing Pony. What's changed?"
"You'requick-wittedd, that's good you'll need that where you're going," Gandalf muttered unaware I'd heard him.
"Going? And just where exactly am I going, Gandalf?" I demanded indignantly.
His pale eyes locked on me, his expression turning completely serious and earnest, "To reclaim Erebor."
I stood up, unable to process his words. It couldn't be. I'd waited and trained my whole life for this, could it even be possible? "How? The dragon-"
"Shall be dealt with," Gandalf assured me, "once Thorin Oakenshield is in possession of the Arkenstone. Only then will the dwarves rally to their king and finally remove the filthy creature from the Mountain."
Could this be possible? How could they even find the Arkenstone? It was hidden underneath a great beast who would kill them before they even got close. I paused suddenly as a realization struck me, "Thorin Oakenshield was here in Bree some months back, that's why you were here, to convince him to march on the Mountain?" Gandalf looked down, half ashamed. "Even if he can bring together a company of dwarves the dragon would be able to hear and smell them before they even entered the Mountain."
"I have already thought of that small detail. I know of a hobbit in the Shire that was thirsty for adventure when I last saw him. Hobbits, as you very well know, are silent when they want to be and the dragon will not recognize his scent," the old wizard explained.
My eyebrows shot up, it was well thought out, mostly, "And Thorin agreed to all this?"
Gandalf nodded, "With a little persuasion from myself, yes."
I sat down again. One thing still didn't make sense. "Why are you telling me all this?" I requested, voicing my confusion.
Gandalf's pale eyes seemed to plead with her, "I would like you to join Thorin Oakenshield's company."
My heart stopped for a moment as I jumped to my feet once more, "Me? These are proud Erebor dwarves, they wouldn't accept a female in their company let alone one who's only half dwarf!"
Gandalf leaned forward, "You will be invaluable on this adventure and your skills will help you earn their trust and loyalty. My dear, you need only be yourself and they will see what an asset you shall be. Besides not all of them shall be strangers."
My green eyes narrowed at that, "Who?"
"I suppose you shall have to go to our hobbit's house in Hobbiton to find out," Gandalf smiled merrily.
A sigh escaped me, "Very well, I'll go but I doubt they'll allow me to join."
The old wizard stood up, "Then I look forward to proving you wrong." He journeyed toward the door but turned back. "Perhaps, a talk with your grandfather would help put your mind at ease. Give him my best. The meeting is in a fortnight, I shall see you there."
With that, the old wizard disappeared just as quickly and suddenly as he had appeared. Another sigh passed my lips as I turned back to my anvil. Dozens of swords lay sharpened in the corner. Axes hung on the walls. And quivers full of arrows leaned against the wall beside strung up bows. My mind made up, I doused the fires and closed up shop to go see my grandfather.
Troin, son of Froin, of Erebor, lived with my grandmother, Bathilda, just outside the main streets of Bree. They'd moved here some fifty years ago with their son, my father, Broin, who was about twenty-five at the time, about a teenager in dwarf years. They'd come from Erebor after Smaug, the fire drake, had taken over their home. It was here my father met my mother, a kind barmaid named Gretchen. And it was here I grew up, half dwarf and half human. The humans never truly accepted me as one of their own and I had very little contact with dwarves outside of my family so going on this quest was surely going to be an adjustment.
I turned down the familiar dirt road and saw the little cottage my grandfather built. Only those in our family knew about the secret tunnels below it. I used to explore them as a child. My grandmother's garden was in bloom, especially the tulips, my mother's favorite. I approached the wooden door and knocked loudly twice. My grandmother's warm smile met me when the door opened.
"Oh my dear, what a surprise! I just put on some tea. Your grandfather will be so happy to see you," she babbled merrily. Grandmother was full dwarf and so she was nearly a head shorter than me, her once light hair now pure white and her dark eyes held the wisdom of her years.
I giggled as she pulled me into an embrace before ushering me inside, "I'm sorry I came unannounced, grandmother."
"Oh no dear, don't think anything of it. Why it could be some terribly late hour and it would not make a difference. We are always happy to see you," she assured me as I sat down at the small table near the kitchen. She began to bustle about making tea and cakes. I smiled as I watched her, remembering the many times I'd sat at this table as a child.
Heavy footfalls soon reached my ears as my aged grandfather entered the room. "I thought I heard the lovely strains of my little blacksmith." I grinned as I rose to embrace him. He was taller than grandmother but not by much and also a good deal wider than she. I could barely fit my arms around him. His gray hair still held some strands of black of his youth.
"Come sit, I have something very important to tell you both," I announced. My grandparents shared a look before doing as I asked. They both sat there silently watching me, waiting for whatever news I had. "Gandalf the Grey came to visit me today. He apparently has organized a quest led by Thorin Oakenshield to reclaim Erebor." I left out the part about the burglar purposefully, they didn't need to know all the details. "And he requested that I join them."
I swore my grandmother was going to faint and Grandfather was going to cry. "You'll go to take back the mountain," he breathed. My heart jumped at the pride in his green eyes. "Mahal, after all these years, I never thought I'd live to see this day."
I beamed as tears began to fill my eyes, "And if you are up for the journey I'd love for you to walk the halls of the Kingdom Under the Mountain after we have reclaimed it."
His hand shook as he reached for mine but he held it firmly. "I could not ask for a more worthy grandchild. I know you will make us proud."
Grandmother was nearly sobbing, "When do you leave?"
"In the morning, the meeting is in a fortnight," I answered wiping away my own tears. "I think I'll say goodbye to them before I leave." Grandmother insisted I stay for supper. She wanted to be sure I would have one last decent meal before traveling Mahal only knows where. I agreed and hugged both of them tightly before returning to my smithy to pack.
I folded a large piece of leather around various swords, axes, and my own bow and quiver, I doubted any of the dwarves I was to join would be skilled in archery. Then I quickly shoved an extra set of clothing into my bag before slinging it and the weapons over my shoulder. I strapped on my own sword and various knives on my belt. The sun was just beginning to rise in the east. With determination I left my smithy, closing and locking the door, before setting out toward the Shire.
However, before I journeyed too far along the Road, I stopped at the small cemetery just outside of Bree and wandered over to two familiar graves. "Hello Mum, Dad, I just wanted to let you two know I'll be gone for a while," I said as I knelt down in front of the headstones. "Actually, I don't know if I'll ever be back. This quest I might be venturing on will be very dangerous but it's to reclaim Erebor, just like I promised Grandfather as a child. These dwarves I'm to meet, I don't know if they'll accept me for what I am but I plan to prove myself to them and see this quest succeed, even if I am to fall. I'm sorry you never got the chance to see me wed, or hold my children, but I know you are watching over me still and I swear I will bring honor to our family and back to the dwarves. I love you both, goodbye."
Slowly I stood once more and placed a kiss on each headstone in parting. Then with a heavy heart, I turned back to the Road and continued on my way to Hobbiton. The first week was pleasant enough as it could be traveling by myself. Luckily my father had taught me to hunt so I was able to feed myself reasonably well. In my downtime I read up on books I'd stuffed in the bottom of my bag. Most of them were about dwarvish history and culture my grandfather had given me. He'd been a high ranking warrior in the Royal Family's service and therefore had much experience with the politics of all things related to the dwarves. The forest trees provided comfortable shade to read and sleep under.
By the second week, the forests had all but disappeared into rolling hills of farmland. I was able to nick a few fruits and vegetables from various farms to supplement with the animals I hunted. Eventually, I reached the small town of Hobbiton the afternoon before the meeting. I wandered around the little houses carved into hills looking for any sort of signal which house was where our resident, hopeful burglar lived. As I rounded a bend not long after night fell the sounds of quite the ruckus reached my ears. Just up ahead was a little hobbit house with a round green door. All the lights were on and the sounds of laughter filtered through the lighted windows. As I drew closer a small glowing mark on the door signaled to me that I had indeed found the place.
Sharply and loudly I knocked twice on the door. A wee fella with brown curly hair in a white button-up shirt paired with brown capris and suspenders opened the door. He seemed extremely annoyed but his expression turned to one of surprise and confusion. I smiled gently at him, "Avi, at your service."
