Disclaimer: I don't own the Hobbit. Basically, anything you recognise, I don't own. The only character that is mine is Dweller.
Another knock came at the door - soft this time, but still noticeable in the relative quiet of the hobbit hole under the hill of Bag End. Bilbo looked around, curious as to who it could be at this hour. He had thought, after Thorin had arrived, that that was it, that there would be no more dwarves entering his house tonight. In any case, Gandalf had yet to get to the point and tell him why his cellar had been raided that night. In any case, none of the other occupants of the room - thirteen dwarves and one wizard (whose pointed hat was been crushed slightly by the ceiling) - looked liked they were expecting any more company. In fact, Bilbo thought, they looked quite as startled at the knock as he was.
"Not another one," he muttered as another knock sounded, and he glanced over at Gandalf, hoping half-heartedly that Gandalf would tell the newcomer to go away - there was no more food to be eaten tonight. In any case, Bilbo was hardly a charity case - he could hardly afford to feed every passing stranger in the Shire!
Gandalf frowned at him slightly, as though he knew exactly what Bilbo was thinking, and then gestured for the hobbit to get the door. Bilbo went to the door as slowly as he dared and resignedly pulled the circular door open.
"Come in then," he said, before looking out the door into the nearly-full-dark sky. His doorstep was empty. He took half a step out the door (which, for a hobbit, is really a much smaller step than for, say, an elf, but not much different for a dwarf), and looked a little further out into the night. He stood there, bewildered, for a second, finally coming to the conclusion that they must have just given up and left, when something in the darkness just before him shifted, and a figure materialized, pulling off a thick woolen cloak. Bilbo leapt back in surprise, as the figure, hardly taking any notice of him, folded their cloak over an arm, and shook back their shoulder-length, crimson hair. It was then that Bilbo realized that the person at the door was a woman. She was probably just barely twenty. Not even half Bilbo's age. She looked at Bilbo then, dark liquid eyes giving him the uncomfortable feeling that she was looking right into his soul, and red hair seeming to blaze in the warm light spilling from the hobbit hole in front of her.
"May I?" she asked in a soft, melodic voice, gesturing to Bilbo's open door.
"By all means," mumbled a startled Bilbo, holding the door for her as she entered the hobbit hole, already much too full of unwanted guests for Bilbo's taste. She stopped, apparently surprised, when she saw the row of coloured hoods hanging in Bilbo's entrance.
"There are others here?" she asked, turning to Bilbo. Bilbo frowned slightly, confused. All the other 'guests' had seemed to know that others were coming.
"Yes," he told her. "Thirteen dwarves in total. Oh- and Gandalf, of course."
"That bastard," the young woman muttered. "What is he trying to get me into this time?" She strode quickly into the larger room where the thirteen dwarves and one wizard (looking rather cramped in the corner) were huddled around a table. Gandalf was the first to spot her.
"Ah! At last. I was beginning to think you had lost your way."
The woman just glared at him and Bilbo followed her into the room. Thorin rose slowly from his chair, staring at her. "What is she doing here, Gandalf? I told you that I had already recruited enough dwarves. I have no need of her on this mission."
"Believe me, I wouldn't have come if I knew that you would be here," the woman spat at him. "And Gandalf knows that all too well, which I assume is why he didn't tell me." She turned to glare at Gandalf, who raised both hands in an I-am-entirely-innocent motion.
"I assure you, I merely thought that this quest might give you two some time to reacquaint yourselves with each other. It has, after all, been far too long since you spoke."
"That is not for you to decide," the woman snarled at him. "You can't run someone's life for them, Gandalf. You can't play God. It is not for you to decide what happens in the world, even if you are a wizard."
By then, Fili and Kili had both risen to their feet, grinning widely. "Look who the cat dragged in!" cried Kili, leaping onto and over the table, running to her and pulling her into a bear hug. The woman stood rather stiffly in his arms for several seconds, as though it had been so long since she'd hugged someone that she didn't quite remember how it worked, before relaxing and wrapping her arms around him. Kili was several centimeters taller than she was, and apparently took great enjoyment out of the fact, tilting his head up so that he could rest his chin on the crown of her head. The woman scowled at him, shaking herself free of the hug and pulling away slightly.
"You got taller," she grumbled. Kili laughed.
"I should think so! After ten years, you'd expect a little height difference. Though, you haven't grown all that much."
"I'll get there," said the woman with a scowl. "I just grow slower than you because you're all dwarf."
Kili laughed, and Fili joined them, hugging the woman briefly before stepping back. "What do they call you these days?" he asked.
"Dweller," said the woman. "I've been up in the north among the Rangers for the past couple of years and Strider nicknamed me when he realized I never stay in one place for very long. That's actually the longest I've every stayed anywhere. I told him that I was more of a nomad that a dweller, but he kept at it because he thought it was ironic and because of my genealogy - which he oh-so-cleverly nicknamed 'dwelf'. I haven't gone by anything else for almost a year now."
"Dweller it is, then," said Kili. He grinned at her for a moment, and she glanced around the room at the other dwarves present, offering brief smiles to some of them, blatantly ignoring Thorin.
"Some music, perhaps, before we get down to business," suggested Gandalf. Dweller turned to glare at him once more before hoisting herself up onto the windowsill opposite the table, the open window letting in a soft gust of wind which blew wisps of her hair into her face. Thorin stood, evidently about to begin singing, before Fili interrupted him.
"Won't you sing, too, Dweller?" asked Fili.
"Yes, sing, Dweller!" Kili cried. Dweller shook her head.
"Not with him." She nodded at Thorin, who scowled at her from across the room, before starting up the song. Bilbo watched Dweller curiously during the song, as her eyes closed, and she swayed ever so slightly to the music. Near the end, she opened her eyes to look around the room, her eyes falling on Bilbo and narrowing. He quickly looked away. When the song ended, Dweller quickly dropped off the window sill.
"I will be outside if anyone wants me," she said, exiting the room before anyone could object.
Much later, Bilbo would glance out the window and see her, silhouetted against the moon, sitting cross-legged in the garden, humming the tune of the song about the misty mountains into the night.
So this is my first fanfiction for the Hobbit, and my inspiration for continuing this story will really depend on whether people actually read it or not.