A/N: Hello and welcome to Mithril and Gold, the fanfiction I've had saved up in my head for a while now. The only things I own are Tal, Fal and the altercations to the plot, though if someone wants to give me a hobbit hole to live in, I'd be much obliged ^_^

I fussed with the fur trim of my autumn cloak, pulling it tighter around my frame as a brisk wind chilled through me, blowing back what few curling strands had escaped my several braids from my face. Moonlight cast a gentle, silvery glow on the richly-tended earth and curious dwellings that was the Shire. I found all of the round doors and abundance of thriving flowers rather adorable, to be perfectly honest. Shifting the weight of my sword at my hip, I tilted my head back to look up at the brilliant moon that had just begun its climb through the heavens.

A few paces ahead of me, my aging escort turned back to me with a chuckle. "Tal! Come now, lass, or we'll be late!"

I shook myself from my dreamlike state and smiled. "Coming, Uncle Balin."

"Are you sure this isn't too much for you?" He asked concernedly, crossing his arms as he stared me down. "The journey ahead will make the trip from the Iron Hills to here seem like an easy jaunt. There's no shame in staying back with your brother—,"

"No!" I exclaimed quickly, wincing at both the thought of staying home instead of following the promise of adventure and at how the shout echoed through the quiet, hilled village. "I'm perfectly fine, I promise."

My guardian tsked, but smiling softly he let his arms drop to his sides. "I still don't know how you talked not only your older brother, but your two war-hardened uncles to allow you on this venture."

I twirled my dark, curling sideburn around my index finger. "It probably had to do with the fact that you all knew I'd come, whether I was allowed to or not."

"Too true." Balin looked to the moon's position, deciding the time. "Ach! We must hurry, before your uncle Dwalin devours all of our host's food."

"How will we know which house is the one belonging to this Mr. Baggins?" I asked as I all but jogged to keep up with my uncle's brisk pace, surprised that such a portly man could move so quickly.

"Our destination was to be marked by Gandalf with a rune."

I hummed thoughtfully, taking a closer look at the peculiar doors they passed as they made their way through Hobbiton, following the path that wound its way around the entirety of an enormous hill pockmarked with tiny doors and windows. None of them, be they blue or yellow or red, had any rune etched into their surface. I felt my impatience rising (along with my appetite). "I'm going to scout ahead."

"Very well, but try to be quiet."

With a curt nod, I took off, all but dashing past a nondescript green door towards the top of the hill, until I saw a glimmer of silver at the base of the door's surface. I waved to get my uncle's attention, and we stood before the door as the elder dwarf rang the bell.

The door gave way to show a mildly distressed, sandy-haired hobbit in a patchwork robe. Balin smiled amicably at whom I supposed was to be our host and bowed from the waist. "Balin, at your service."

My curly hair fell in my face, a few braids tickling my cheeks, as I copied my uncle's etiquette. "Tal, at your service."

"Good evening." The hobbit deadpanned. I flicked my uncle a concerned look as I straightened, but he just smiled.

"Yes, yes it is, though I think it might rain later. Are we late?" Balin asked seriously.

Our esteemed host looked a bit distraught at the question. "Late for what…?"

Balin was cut off, though, as I ran into the house with a happy cry. "Uncle Dwalin!"

The burly dwarf looked up from where he was trying to take a biscuit from a glass container and grinned. "By my beard! Look at you, you're the spitting image of your mother!"

I smiled brightly in response, clasping forearms with my younger uncle. "Fal says the same thing, whenever he looks up from his latest project, that is. I don't have her beard, though—I don't think I'll ever get a beard." I sighed resignedly, rubbing my hair-free jaw.

My smile dimmed a bit more at the thought of my elder brother sitting all by himself in his beloved forge. Giving myself a mental shake, I moved aside so Balin could greet his brother, distracting myself from my thoughts by taking in my surroundings. How curious—it's like a warren, I thought as I idly removed my cloak and coat, hooking them onto a rack by the door. As I twisted my many braids into one complex plait, I peered through round archways into the immediate rooms branching from the entryway, taking note of all of the books and teacups strewn about and various reading nooks. It was, in a word, cozy, especially with the addition of the chandeliers above casting a golden glow on everything and warmth seeping into me from the hearth.

My gaze fell upon Bilbo, who was staring at my legs with something almost akin to embarrassment. "What's wrong, Mr. Baggins?"

"It-it's just…it's just odd, is all." He stuttered, looking away and making flustered motions at my travelling breeches.

I gave him a bemused grin. "Pants are a fair bit easier to travel in than the heavy dresses I wear at home, though not as fashionable."

At the call of my name, I followed my uncles to the pantry, Dwalin placing a mug of ale in my hands before I was fully through the archway. I sipped at it unconsciously as I perused Bilbo's impressive stock, the hobbit chattering some unintelligible and nonsensical babble in the doorway and the alcohol pleasantly burning its way to my stomach. "What is that?" I asked, gesturing with my mug at a white and blue mass.

Balin eyed it, suspicious. "I think it might've been cheese, but it's gone blue."

Picking it up, Dwalin sniffed it, holding it precariously in his calloused fingertips. "It's riddled with mold." Distaste evident in his voice, he threw it over his shoulder, and Balin wiped his gloves on his robe as the doorbell rang throughout the house.

I set down my mug and leaned out of the doorway to see who Bilbo was answering the door for. The door swung back to reveal two dwarves that I guessed to be about my age.

The golden one spoke first. "Fili—,"

"And Kili—," The dark-haired dwarf followed.

The two bowed and said in unison, "At your service."

Kili dimpled at Bilbo. "You must be Mr. Boggins!"

"Nope!" I raised my eyebrows in shock as the hobbit tried to slam the door in the dwarves' faces. "You can't come in, you've come to the wrong house."

"What?! Has it been canceled?" Kili asked, looking concerned.

Fili looked frustrated. "No one told us."

I was sure Bilbo's brow was just as furrowed as Fili's. "Canceled, what? Nothing's been canceled—,"

"That's a relief!" Kili grinned, shoving past Bilbo, making room for his brother (or so I assumed them to be) to saunter in behind him and immediately begin unloading his weaponry upon their host. My own sword still hung at my hip, its weight a comfort to me, my handing resting on its pommel out of habit. I watched as Kili scraped the mud from the road on a nondescript chest, upsetting poor Bilbo.

"Tal!" Jumping at the sound of my name, I turned to Balin, who was struggling with a large amount of dishware. "Move the chairs into the great room, will you?"

"Yes, Uncle." Tossing my braid over my shoulder, I grabbed two chairs and started hauling them into their designated location, whilst Dwalin enlisted the aid of Fili and Kili to begin moving the table. On my way back for the other chairs, my arm brushed against Fili's, who could do nothing but nod in acknowledgement as he hurried to help his brother.

The doorbell erupted again, as did the hobbit's temper. "Oh, no. No! No! Go away; there's nobody home! There's enough dwarves in my dining room as it is! If this is some- some blunthead's idea of a joke, ha! HA! I can only say, it is in very poor taste!" I poked my head through the doorway to the great room, where I was helping Balin set up the table, just in time to see several dwarves fall through into the entryway.

"Sounds like everyone else has arrived." Dwalin chuckled drily, taking another long drink from his tankard.

Those numbers did help to hasten the process of getting supper ready, however; soon the long table was laden with heaps of food, Fili and Kili moving a barrel of ale closer to the room for better access while many others, to whom I was hastily introduced and most of their names I had quickly gotten mixed up, helped bring more chairs.

And then we feasted.

Laughter and raucous shouting filled what I supposed was normally a rather quiet home, and I found myself squeezed between Kili and a dwarf I thought was Nori. The happy (and, admittedly, not entirely sober) atmosphere was infectious, and I found myself laughing with the rest of the company even when I wasn't entirely sure what I was supposed to find so funny. I had to clutch my ribs through my leather vest to stop my sides from splitting when Bofur threw an egg right into Bomber's mouth, eliciting laughter and cheers from everyone.

Once we had eaten our fill, several of the dwarves began ambling from the table to snoop about the rest of the house, tankards of ale clutched in their greasy-fingered grips. I stretched as I rose, brushing some crumbs from my violet linen shirt, smiling a bit at the opalescent mail that glittered just underneath. I had very few tokens of my mother's left, having sold several of them to keep my brother's shop from bankruptcy, but my mithril-mail I wore at all times, save when I bathed. It had been one of the key points I'd used to persuade my relatives into allowing my on the venture.

Beating my brother in a duel had helped, as well.

As I stepped into the hall, I was plowed into from the side by Fili, who reached out a hand to steady my before I could fall.

"Thank you, Fili." I smiled, straightening once I'd regained my balance.

His golden hair glimmering in the candlelight, Fili smiled back. "Think nothing of it. It is odd that you know my name, though I do not know yours."

"It's Tal."

"Tal." The young dwarf repeated, testing the name on his tongue like a wine. My cheeks heated a bit. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

I inclined my head, smiling beatifically. "And you as well."

His lips spread in a grin, and I felt my heart throb. As he strolled away down the hall, I rubbed at the spot over my heart, scowling thoughtfully, until Bilbo's cries of outrage and the laughter from my newfound comrades drew me from my tumbling thoughts and back into the kitchen as Kili began singing.

"Blunt the knives, bend the forks!"

Fili took up the beat, continuing to bounce dishware back to his brother. "Smash the bottles and burn the corks!"

"Chip the glasses and crack the plates!" The other dwarves and I chimed in, and I moved out of the way as Nori began to throw the silverware to Kili. "That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!

Cut the cloth and trail the fat!
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!
Pour the milk on the pantry floor!
Splash the wine on every door!
Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl,
Pound them up with a thumping pole,
And when you've finished, if they are whole,
Send them down the hall to roll!
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"

Once we'd all had our laughs at Bilbo's expense, there was heard a loud pounding at the door. Gandalf's face turned somber, his pipe leaving his mouth long enough for him to somberly say, "He is here."

I lingered in the great room while the others filed out into the hallway to greet the last member of our party. When they all filed back, I bowed respectfully to Thorin, earning a nod of acknowledgement. I claimed a seat between Balin and Bofur, feeling blood start to creep up my throat under Fili's gaze from where he sat across the dark room.

Thorin's conversation with my uncles went largely missed by me as I attempted (and failed) to ignore Fili while I surreptitiously snuck glances at him, catching a quick glimpse of one of his tawny braids, his nose, his eyes catching mine each time. I wondered what color they were; I made a mental note to check the next time I was close enough.

"We may be few in number, but we're fighters! All of us, to the last dwarf!" Fili's rings flashed in the candlelight as he pounded the table.

Kili chimed in, looking almost giddy. "And let's not forget that we have a wizard in our company! Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time." In response to this claim, Gandalf sputtered something unintelligible, huffing on his pipe.

Curiosity burning, I asked, "Have you?"

The wizard blinked at me. "Have I what?"

"How many dragons have you killed?" Dori asked. I dropped my head into my hands as my fellow dwarves leapt to their feet, bickering and snapping at one another, a headache beginning to rise up in my mind. I did my best to zone out as I rubbed circles at my temples.

"'Twould appear that Mr. Baggins is not our burglar." Balin sighed, startling me out of my ministrations.

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who've no way to fight nor fend for themselves." Dwalin chuckled, resting his head on his fist.

As Gandalf struggled for an appropriate response, my kinsmen rose up in outrage, shouting at and over one another. "Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!" Settling back into his seat, Gandalf motioned at Balin. "Hobbits are remarkably quick and light on their feet, making them ideal, and he's got more to offer than any of you know, even himself. You've left finding the sixteenth member of our company to me, and I say Mr. Baggins is our burglar." In a lower voice he added to Thorin, "You're going to have to trust me on this."

Thorin looked grim as he thought it over before acquiescing. "Very well. Give him the contract."

My older uncle rose to give Bilbo a contract similar to the one I had signed back home, giving a brief list of all it entailed, which the cautious hobbit began reading aloud. "Lacerations…evisceration?" His brow pinched with concern, he turned back to the rest of us. "Incineration?"

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh right off your bones." Bofur said in a matter-of-fact tone, waving his pipe in the air.

"Are you alright, Bilbo?" I asked, twisting in my seat in case I needed to leap to Bilbo's aid.

The hobbit in question doubled over, resting his hands on his knees with the edge of the contract clenched in his fist. "I need some air, I think."

Bofur leaned across me, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Think furnace, with wings! Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash!"

"Bilbo?" Gandalf questioned, bushy brows pinched together.

"I'm fine. Wait." Bilbo straightened, expression blank. "Nope." In the same breath, he twisted in the air and collapsed to the floor.

Gandalf grunted as he rose from his chair. "Very helpful, Bofur." He grumbled, moving to carry the fallen Bilbo.

I rose, too, headed towards the kitchen to help Dori prepare some tea for when Bilbo woke. A hand at my wrist stopped me, and I turned to see Dwalin motion for me to follow him. He all but dragged me through the hall and around a nondescript doorway until we stood in what I supposed was the sitting room, if the couches and enormous fireplace were any giveaway. "What is it, Dwalin?"

"I'm sending you back to your brother at first light." At my cry of outrage, Dwalin spoke louder. "Don't try to argue with me, lass! You saw how Bilbo reacted just to hearing about the beast! What if that's how you reacted once you saw it?"

"But I won't!" I snapped, jerking my hand in his iron grip in an effort to break free. "I signed the contract, knowing the consequences and possibilities!"

"You signed the contract seeing nothing but a chance for adventure and glory!" He spat back, eyes narrowing into a glare. "Tal, understand that I'm just trying to do as your mother would wish me to."

I felt my wrist beginning to bruise from how my twisting was making the metal of his gauntlets dig into my bones. "My mother would've done the same as I am! Why else would she have a shirt of mithril made?" I whispered the last, using my captured hand to pull up the sleeve of my free one to expose the edge of mithril at my elbow. "She wanted adventure at some point, too!"

"Before coming to her senses and becoming a mistress of the forge." Dwalin deadpanned, rolling my sleeve back down so the mithril was concealed again.

I sighed heavily, attempting to get a grip back on my temper. "I am seventy-nine years old now, uncle! There are dwarves half my age already bragging about their victories in battle and starting their own trades and quests. I waited all of these extra years patiently. I've trained with Fal and his friends in the army—I beat Fal so bad that I had to spend the next week healing him! What more would you have me do to prove that I am capable?"

As I watched him work his jaw, fighting for words that would prove him right, Dwalin released his grip on my wrist, and I took a step back.

"There will be rules, conditions."

My ears perked, eyebrows rising towards my hairline with my surprise. "Yes, of course."

My uncle began pacing in front of me, hands on his hips and his boots sending thunderous tremors through the wood floor. "You will take the utmost care to preserve your health: even if you are wearing that infernal shirt, recklessness can hurt the rest of the company, and who knows how old that mail is anyway. No wandering off by yourself as I know you like to do; you will stay with the lads, Fili and Kili, the easier for me to keep an eye on all of you."

"Yes, Uncle." I was too astonished to say anything else.

He pulled me forward by my shoulders, knocking his forehead gently against mine before embracing me as he did when I was much, much smaller. "If anything were to happen to you, my stubborn little lass, I—,"

"I know." I smiled, hugging him back. I love you too, Uncle.

He cleared his throat, pulling away after thumping me on the back. "Very good. Now, go get some rest; it'll be a very early morning tomorrow, I'm sure."

I nodded, smiling warmly up at him again before leaving through the opposite door. Many of my kinsmen had gathered in the parlor across the hall, smoking their pipes and sharing stories, as I'd seen Fal and his comrades do hundreds of times before. Normally I would join in, just to listen if nothing else, but I had never been one for ale, and the alcohol tugged at my consciousness. Stopping to pull my cloak from the hook by the door, I set up against the wall opposite from the door, leaning against the arch in the wall for support and using my cloak as a blanket. My eyelids drooped closed to the rich, dulcet singing of the others.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep, and caverns old
We must away
'Ere break of day
To retrieve our long forgotten gold
The pines were roaring on the height
The winds were moaning in the night
The fire was red
It flaming spread
The trees, like torches, blazed with light.

I jolted awake, eyes flying open and hand gripping the hilt of my sword as I surveyed my unfamiliar surroundings. In the beginning rays of the dawn coming through the tiny windows, I could just make out the forms of several sleeping dwarves around me, and it took me a moment to remember why and how I got here.

Ah, that's right, I thought, rising up slowly so as not to disturb the others and picking my way carefully to the door, I'm here to help take back Erebor. I pulled the door open wide enough for me to slip through, closing it gently behind me, and followed the steps down to the gate. I leaned on the fence as a support as I stretched to look over Hobbiton, astonished to see so many people up so early in the day. Several hobbits were already at their day's work, tending gardens and beginning their laundry.

"The first morning, and you're already breaking your promise." A voice chuckled to my left.

I turned to see Balin trudging up the hill, a heavy-looking satchel slung across his shoulder, and opened the gate for him. "Uncle! What are you doing up so early?"

The white-haired dwarf gave something akin to a snort. "I'm old, of course I'm awake early. And this is just some things I noticed we were running low on when I went over the provisions yesterday."

"Will it be time to leave soon?" I asked, a thrill of anticipation clambering up my spine.

He nodded. "Aye. As soon as the others are up and ready, it will be time to depart."

I went back inside long enough to collect my belongings before going to check on the ponies that waited in a small field at the base of the hill, checking their saddles and soothing the more skittish as Balin had bid me. The others awoke within the next hour or so, breaking their fast as they prepared themselves, while I ate mine as I got more acquainted with the ponies we were to ride. I was in the process of feeding my apple core to a mare the color of loamy soil (I had dubbed her Lily) when I heard a heavy thud behind me, turning to see it had been Dwalin's belongings falling to the grass.

"What're the rules, Tal?" He prompted calmly in his grumbling voice, going over the saddle before hooking his bag to the saddle.

Heaving a sigh, I rolled my head to face him. "Honestly, Uncle?" He glared at me until I had to look away and so, closing my eyes, I surrendered. "No wandering off on my own. Stay with Fili and Kili. Don't do anything to get myself or the rest of the company killed."

I was rewarded with a smile and a firm slap on the back. "There's a lass."

The others soon appeared and claimed their own mounts as I climbed onto Lily, pulling my fingers through her coarse mane as we waited for the others. It was only when we were all ready to ride out that I realized we were one burglar short. "Where's Bilbo?" I asked Balin as he began to make his way to the front, where Thorin waited to lead us out. "Isn't he coming?"

"I'm afraid not, Tal." He gave me a gentle smile before continuing on.

On Thorin's command we rode out, passing through the vibrantly green hills and the already bustling marketplace. Bofur and Ori rode in front of me, Fili and Kili behind me, as we were nearing the end of the Shire.

Bofur was nearing the end of an extravagant tale about great white beasts to the north (inspired, in my belief, by the white fur lining of my coat) when I heard the shouting.

"Wait! WAIT!"

"Did you hear that, too?" I asked Kili, who was directly behind me. The company pulled to a stop as he nodded, and we all turned to see the halfling racing along the path to the front of the line, the eagerness in his expression making me grin.

Catching his breath, the hobbit waved his contract like a banner for all to see. "I've signed it, I've signed the contract."

"Let's see it, then." I could practically hear the restrained smile in Balin's voice as he accepted the proffered contract, pulling out his magnifier to better read the document before snapping it shut. "It's official. Welcome, master hobbit, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield."

A/N: This seems as good a place as any to cut it off until the next chapter. Thank you very much for reading, and should you have any comments, questions, concerns, or generally nice things to tell me, go ahead and please review ^_^