Author's note: Hello everyone. This is my first venturing into this particular fandom, but after reading until my eyes burned, I decided to join in for a bit. Think of me as the shy new student standing nervously by the sandbox. I have no access to the book so I will be basing this is in the movie-verse, but I appreciate any and all comments and critiques. If anyone would like to help me along in this (point out my blunders), it would also be greatly appreciated.
Fellow note: I will limit author's notes in the future. Promise. :]
Disclaimer: I am a poor teacher living in rural China. I don't even own my TV, let alone The Hobbit.
Twigs snapped energetically under his thunderous boots, but he paid little attention, his eyes instead trained on the surroundings. While the thick trees and dense underbrush certainly certified wilderness, his instincts felt little need for worry. Nonetheless, his hands moved purposefully at his sides, never more than a second's distance from the hammer on his back. Taking a pause, he studied the muddy ground. Another footprint.
Good, he breathed out some of his annoyance through his nose. Its fresh imprint in the ground meant he wasn't far off. He pressed forward through the tangled branches of the bush and paused. To his left, he heard the hiccup of a rope snapping and frantic thumping on the ground like a terrified heartbeat. He silently followed the sound. While feeling confident his search was nearing an end, he wouldn't risk an overconfident mistake.
As he walked past a large oak, the crouched figure slid into view. He tread carefully and circled to the figure's side. He could see the figure had a grasp on a large rabbit's hind leg, the remnants of a snare evident on the ground, and a simple, slick knife in the other. He waited silently as the figure finished it's murmuring and made a quick slash through the rabbit's throat. The fur matted into an inky darkness as the animal twitched. Blood smeared the figure's tanned hand as it moved to creak the animal's head back, widening the wound like cracking open a door.
He figured now was as good a time as any and cleared his throat. "I hope you're not thinking of skinning that thing here." The figure turned its head to him, an easy smile tilting the ends of her lips.
"You don't think the mud would add a nice flavor?" He didn't reply but a grunt, and she stood. "What can I do for you, Master Dwalin?"
She scooped down to grab the back legs of her catch. "Thorin requires your presence." Her fingers paused from their work picking dirt out of the rabbit's fur, and she peeked up at him, blatant incredulity splattered on her face. "Immediately." She didn't argue, only tied the listless hind legs of her catch and sheathed her knife.
"I am assuming you have a steed," she started back through the brush in the direction he had come from.
"Left him at the far path by the creek," he replied curtly. She could almost sense his unspoken resentment for trekking in to find her.
"I must retrieve my own, and it is, regrettably, at a different location." She did not offer this location and Dwalin did not care to ask. Just as he started to agitate under the idea of waiting for her, she continued, "Why don't you ride ahead and inform Thorin I will arrive? It won't be but more than ten minutes after you." He nodded, placated by this suggestion, and they separated as she turned east and disappeared into the brush.
The forest hummed and chirped with early spring melodies. While Dwalin would never consider the world to be safe, regardless of the lull from peaceful scenery, he knew that the forests the woman frequently trapped in rarely crossed with orcs or other nefarious creatures. While skilled with a knife, her job rarely required use of strategy or skill that would make her an opponent to even a lone orc.
Nonetheless, her game was often hearty and her pelts finely cut. And so she had ended up familiar to the dwarves of the Blue Mountain. Initially, she had ventured in to find sales, her previous posts exhausted of cash for her goods. While the dwarves were hardly giving her a warm, family welcome, they appreciated the furs to line their cloaks, and the meat met with great satisfaction. And so she transitioned from a woman, a stranger to be stared at, to nothing more than a common face. In some ways, seeing her carrying her wares to different merchants reminded him of Dale, when merchants from every road would peddle their goods. He stepped over a fallen tree and turned west. He walked through over-hanging brush to the creak gurgling like a happy dwarf babe. His horse stood near the tree trunk to which his reigns tethered him, and Dwalin moved forward gruffly. Thoughts of Dale always brought forth the festering rage of Smaug and his destruction. His lips in a grim, thin line, he mounted his horse. His mind only took solace in the knowledge of Thorin's pending embarkment to best the cursed monster and reclaim their home. The days to their departure seemed to pass with increased fervor and he could almost taste the excitement radiating from Fili and Kili when they had convinced their uncle to let them join.
Dwalin mulled as he stirred his horse into a hearty canter. As for why, only days away from their final hurdle to begin, Thorin had decided to call upon the trapper, he hadn't the faintest idea.
Fili walked the halls of his Blue Mountain home proudly. Happily. And most definitely with a bounce of excitement. Torches lined the stone walls as warm, flickering sentinels. While it had not the wealth or splendor of Erebor—or so he was told—it was the home he knew and adored. That didn't temper his thrill when his uncle has finally given approval for them to join his quest to reclaim Erebor.
He recounted his uncle's stubborn mantra that they were too young and too important to join—but mostly that they were too young, too green.
Only after their persistence groveling, and no small part of sulking, did they convince their uncle that they were capable young dwarves. A frequent point of theirs turned this accusation of youth on their uncle, saying their keen eyes would supplement what older members of the quest may be lacking. Of course they weren't thinking of old Balin or Oin's deafness what they argued this. Never.
Well, maybe a bit. A large bit.
He stopped as he reached the mouth of the hall and faced the open air whistling through the mountains.
"Fili," the blond tilted his head to see his uncle stand beside him. His stern blue eyes surveyed the expanse of scenery before them.
"Uncle," Fili replied with a nod of his head. His mouth itched for barely a second before he rushed out the tired question, "Has Gandalf come yet?" Fili was thoroughly eager to have a wizard joining their quest. His only gripe remained at the wizard's lack of consideration for their time. While they had taken him as a member of their company, they were forced to wait while he searched for their final party member. Fili wished, on nights he lay in his bed with anticipation prickling his veins, his uncle had simply picked the final member himself. At least then they could start.
Thorin betrayed no sign of annoyance except for the lingering, hooded look he shot at his nephew. Every day, the same question. He let out a breath much like a sigh. "No." His nephew let out a much more exasperated sigh.
"Does he not know the importance of time?" Thorin's eyes hardened on the distance, but he kept silent.
"I assure you, Master Fili," a voice broke behind them like a gentle and dangerous waterfall. "I most certainly do." They turned to see the grey wizard standing in the hall, leaning on his staff as if tired from a long walk. Or perhaps exasperation. "And if you understood its importance, you would not waste it wishing for the future. For everything comes precisely when meant to." He stepped forward and turned his eyes to the king, who remained silent and unyielding under his gaze. "I have found him."
Thorin nodded curtly. "Better we move elsewhere to speak of this." Gandalf agreed and the three of them turned back into the halls of the mountain. Thorin lead the way to his study, and they settled into either chairs or places around the room.
"Where is he?" Thorin cut straight as he stood behind his desk. The wizard pulled out his pipe and pressed his fingers together as a small flame ignited.
"A hobbit in the Shire." Thorin couldn't hide the indignant frustration while Fili sputtered.
"A hobbit?" His voice growled dangerously low. "You think a hobbit is fit to travel on such a quest as ours?"
"I will not play to your pride nor your prejudices right now, Thorin Oakenshield," replied Gandalf, drawing himself to his full height. "You have yet to even meet the lad and already you speak as if you know him." He gave the king no space to intrude. "I have searched for your final member, and you will find him in the Shire. Inform your men to travel hence. They will find his home by the mark I leave on the door." Gandalkf moved towards the door, and Thorin voiced his last question gruffly.
"The Shire is no small place to search for a small person." Gandalf turned to him.
"It is easy enough to find," he answered before the door closed behind him.
Barely two seconds passed before someone rapped sharply on the door.
"Enter," Thorin barked, clearly still disgruntled by the wizard's brusque appearance. Dwalin stepped in quietly.
"Did you find her?" Thorin asked, moving papers from his desk as if in search of something. Fili's brow knit in confusion as he looked over to Dwalin. Her?
"Yes. She is on her way." Fili turned his to confusion to his uncle. Obviously Dwalin would not feel any need to inform the youth of this female he'd been sent to find. "If I may ask," Dwalin paused. "Why did you send for her?"
A long pause stretched in the air like a quivering viol string. Thorin studied his comrade, his trusted friend, before returning to his desk.
"Gandalf has returned," he stated. Dwalin nodded silently. "He has found our burglar. We're to ride to the Shire. Gandalf will mark the door." His sentences came out curtly and without room for question. Dwalin asked none but one.
"Should we leave immediately?"
Thorin shook his head. His hands stilled as they closed around the thin leather envelope. Inside, he knew, rested the map of Erebor. their greatest piece and greatest puzzle. "No. I will head to the Iron Hills. Now that I have our final members, I will make known our quest to our kin. If they join, then we will have one more cause for celebration when we meet at the burglar's home." He looked up to Dwalin and Fili as he placed the envelope deep inside his coat. Dwalin appeared determined and satisfied, while Fili's face was scrunched by clear confusion and the barely suppressed desire to pester his uncle.
"Dwalin, inform the others to prepare. Those that answer the call should ride out in three days time for the Shire," said the king as he pulled his cloak over his shoulders and fastened it. Again, a nod.
Just as Fili thought his uncle about to leave, a quick, singular knock jerked three pairs of eyes to the door.
"Enter," Thorin commanded. Again, the door opened, only this time a woman walked in. Her steps quiet, quick and quaint, Fili could immediately recognize the stature of a human woman under her cloak. Her brown hood pulled back revealed a face he had seen around the villages and caverns of the Blue Mountains. He'd never spoken to her, but knew he wore a number of her pelts and their kitchen staff regularly bought game. Her skin was tanned while her unkempt hair was a high-lighted brown, both indicative of her time spent outside.
Immediately, she bowed to Thorin. Fili felt mild appreciation for her quiet respect as she waited for the king to speak. Noting the furrow of her eyebrows, it seemed she was as perplexed as himself and Dwalin as to her appearance.
"What is your lineage?" Thorin didn't bother with formalities towards the woman.
"Mostly human," she replied calmly. "Perhaps some dwarf considering my family's close proximity to dwarf kingdoms and my lacking stature." Fili felt his lips twitching up slightly at her own jibe. She may stand only a few centimeters taller than himself and certainly lacked the physic to compensate for her height. However, the idea of dwarf blood mingling in human veins made his stomach clench uncomfortably. Still, even she said it was only a possibility, not that she had any proof.
"Are you skilled with anything besides your trade knives?" Thorin gave no indication of his opinion but his gaze remained heavy upon her all the same.
"A bow and arrow," she replied. "Depends on what kind of skill you are looking for." She attempted a smile at the light joke but it faltered and fell at the lack of reciprocated amusement. She let out a shaky breath and continued in a more serious manner. "I am good with a bow and arrow—comes with hunting—but knives are my favourite. My uncle and cousin taught me to fight with them while my father taught me to hunt."
"What can you do?" She let her face display a second of honest alarm at his brusque question before shoving it aside.
"Track, skin. Living in the wild. Hiding. Many of the things that come with being a trapper." She shrugged subtly.
"And the skills you've acquired as a smuggler and thief?" Thorin shot back shortly. Three pairs of eyes widened.
"I-I-I don't—"
"Do not waste time, human," Thorin cut. "I have no need for your defense, and I am not concerned with your activites so long as they do not harm my kingdom or kin. As of yet, they have not so speak quickly, what skills have you?"
She sighed through her teeth. "Minimal workings of languages, knowledge of hidden paths and hide-outs. Smuggling routes. Access to medicines and goods otherwise hard to obtain." Or immoral, she added silently.
"The skill to pass silently." Though she thought the phrasing spoke of a question, it seemed none existed in his tone. She remained silent for a second as she thought of whether to dare a response.
Fili, for all his effort, couldn't help but strain and finally crack as he felt something like realization at his uncle's last sentence.
"Uncle, you're not thinking of joining her to the company?" Fili burst out. Talk of silence and stealth, of skills and weaponry made it sound as if his father searched for a thief. A burglar. But had they not just heard from Gandalf that a burglar awaited them in the Shire? Thorin silenced him with a steely gaze. Dwalin shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.
"Tonight, a wizard will leave rom our settlement in the Blue Mountains. You are to track him without being sighted. When he rejoins our company in the Shire, I expect your report of his travels. This report must also be delivered without recognition of anyone but myself, and you are not to enter the residence until I have read its entirety." Noting the look of bewilderment on her face, he let out a sharp jibe, "use your smuggler skills for this, should you truly have any." This seemed to shake her reverie, and she physically tossed her head.
"Why should I do this? Do I get paid?" Fili stiffened at the rudeness in her quick words. Still, he harbored vein of disbelief, a bubbling, churning soup of confusion.
Thorin chose to return her question with one of his own. "Are you to say that right now, there are no incriminating items on your horse?"
Her lips pressed to a thin line before she replied lowly. "That would be little business of yours."
"Yet your horse stands on our lands right now, does it not? And as ruler, I would have right to search the contents," Thorin said simply. After a brief, heavy pause, purely for his benefit of letting her squirm while her mind reached for solutions, he added, "as it were, I have no intention of searching them." Another pause. "As long as you complete the task I have given you." Her shoulders drew back and stiffened.
"And if I take this task only to disappear?" Her eyes peered up at him through her bangs, her head dipped forward to give the full impression of her dissatisfaction.
"That is why all the goods upon the horse have been removed to safety within these halls." Fili could have sworn he heard something like a growl grating the back of her throat as it slid down into her stomach, swallowed. "Complete the task and they will be returned to you without further issue and you may return to whatever manner of life you lead. Disappear and they will spill your secrets. I doubt those you steal from would give you long to hide." He knew he had her pinned, as did everyone else in the room—including the woman. She lifted her chin and met him squarely, a silent hiss passing between her teeth as she tried to diffuse the tension and rage twisting her chest.
"Fine."
"Fili," Thorin called his nephew forward. "Get her a contract. Find her a room to wait for the wizard's departure and bring the contract to me once it is completed." His eyes tacked on the silent message: tell no one.
The woman kept her huff sealed behind her lips. A room to wait? It was barely mid-day and he had spoken of leaving at night. Was she to wait for hours in a closet for this wizard to leave? Yet she knew Thorin would not yield—especially given his apparent knowledge of her less-than-honorable second income. She wished he hadn't called her a thief, though. It's not like she stole, really. More…picked up things people left around. Glancing at the one he had called to escort her, she hoped he played some mercy in wherever he stuck her. As the dwarf stepped towards her and the door, she remembered a last minute courtesy and bowed to Thorin, albeit stiffly and with a glimmer of a glare.
The door shut behind the two with a click and Dwalin turned to Thorin. The King Under the Mountain was stepping his way around his desk.
"What exactly is all of that about?" Dwalin dared as Thorin neared the door. Dwalin followed the lead and headed to leave the room.
"A back-up plan," Thorin replied before he disappeared down the hall.