The present danger always seems to be the worst, doesn't it? The mind is funny that way. It doesn't matter what you've been through in this life, or the number of terrible predicaments in which you've found yourself. Whatever demon you're facing at the moment overshadows them all.

So it was with the Dwarves of Erebor, on their quest to reclaim a stolen homeland. They had already dealt with many a hard time on that adventure, but all paled in the face of this new horror. They were losing hope, running through those endless goblin tunnels. There were too many passages leading off who knows where, not to mention the sound of a thousand feet trampling along behind them. Would they live long enough to breathe the free, clean air once more? The likelihood of that dropped a bit more with each second they spent in this foul, stifling place.

They held out hope that they would soon see the literal light at the end of the tunnel, but to no avail. No matter how far they ran, their feet merely led them through more dusty chambers and channels. They were growing tired- they weren't immortal, after all- and their pace was steadily slowing. At the sound of the creatures so close behind them, it would pick up again, but soon enough they would grow weary once more. They went on in this vicious cycle for what seemed like hours, but they knew it couldn't last forever. Sooner or later their energy would dwindle and fail, and they would succumb to the terrible monsters that dwelt here. But they wouldn't go down without a fight- oh, no. They were dwarves, and by their honor, they would fight until they drew their final breath.

He sat alone in the small, frigidly cold room. He had tried pacing to warm himself, but that had done nothing. He realized after a time that it must have been his nerves which made his body temperature drop so low, and not the room itself. He shrugged his shoulders and flexed his fingers to keep the blood flowing, but he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. Beside him, the machine hummed powerfully. He smiled in spite of his discomfort. This was his masterpiece; his legacy. Perhaps, if this experiment succeeded, he would be allowed to spend the rest of his days in solitude, and thus, peace. He wished for this every day, but knew in his heart that it would never come to pass. He was not irreplaceable, not by a long shot. He was simply too useful, too convenient for them to release him. They wanted his brain, and the magnificent ideas which it could produce, and they would not let him go until it was old and aged, and therefore of no value to them.

"Why is this taking so long?" He muttered under his breath. It should have been fully functional by now, seeing as he had been working on it all night. He hadn't even bothered to stop and take a rest. He needed this to go smoothly- no, perfectly. He desperately needed this to go absolutely perfectly. He feared what would happen if he failed again. The thought ran through his head that if this didn't go according to plan, if they were to somehow arrive damaged or- he shuddered at the thought- dead, that he would not get another chance. He would become one of the many failures of the Capitol who simply disappeared without a trace, those who had angered the President by some foolish act and were never heard from again. No, this had to work. It must. He knew he had replicated everything correctly, and it would work flawlessly. It would not fall apart, like the last time.

As he was thinking over these things, and pondering several possible outcomes of this meeting, he saw the machine give a violent jerk and come to life. It lit up from the inside, and the oculus in the center began to glow and whir.

Thorin had a million different strategies running through his head- unfortunately, none of them were reasonable, and a fair few ended in the untimely deaths of several members of his company. Finally, he decided that they would run no further, but stand and do battle against this innumerable foe. If they were going to die down in a loathsome place such as this, they at least would die together.

"STOP" He bellowed, halting in his tracks. Several of them bumped and stumbled into one another at the unexpected break in pace.

"Close ranks!" Thorin shouted. They all knew what he was planning. They were none of them too fond of the idea of dying (especially here, of all places), but they had pledged to stand by their King through life and through death, and they planned on doing just that.

Soon they stood in as good a battle formation as one could make in such a narrow spot, and prepared to defend their brethren against the goblins. In their heads, they were each saying silent goodbyes, and regretting that they would meet such an end. The sound of goblins drew closer, and they waited with bated breath to see the light of their torches come round the bend. What actually happened, however, was something that none of them had anticipated. It occurred so quickly that they barely had time to register it: the massive sound of breaking stone sounded around them, and the rock beneath their feet fell through like a strategically placed trapdoor.

Instead of darkness under the stone, however, there was a chasm like unto a kaleidoscope. Colors streamed past them and through them as they fell, slipping through their fingers like quicksilver. In those few moments, it seemed as if the universe had torn apart, leaving them in a strange pocket of space where the senses forgot their original functions. They could feel the hues and shades and hear them, as if they were objects in and of themselves. It was a sensation that left them very bewildered, and for a long time afterward, though they tried with all their might, they could never describe it. It lay perfectly etched into their memories, and inaccessible.

It took a mere fraction of a second for the dwarves to come tumbling through the portal, landing unsteadily on their feet. They looked around, finding that they were in a minuscule room which was painted an impeccable white. The scientist looked upon them in wonder, simultaneously shocked and joyful that his experiment had been successful. He would be rewarded, not punished as he had feared.

Though extremely confused, the Company still had their wits about them. Upon noting the presence of a stranger in the room, their hands went immediately to their weapons, drawing them on this unknown man who stood before them. When he didn't react except to write down a few lines of some odd-looking parchment, Thorin decided to speak up.

"Who are you?" He questioned the anger in his voice palpable. He silently wondered, 'Mere moments ago we stood in a tunnel beneath a mountain. How did we end up here? Could it be that there is some secret world dwelling beneath the surface of ours?' Many thoughts occurred to him as he tried to piece together this mystery, but nothing was making any sense at all.

When the man didn't respond to him, several of the dwarves voiced their own inquiries and various threats. He made no move to answer them, only nodding to himself and studying them, occasionally breaking his watchful gaze to write something in his other-worldly journal. For it was other-worldly, was it not? Some of the other dwarves had been drawing conclusions as well, and this seemed the most plausible, however impossible it seemed. They were on a different world; they had to be, for nothing in Middle-earth looked even remotely similar to this strange place.

Another glance around the room confirmed their fears: it couldn't be Middle-earth. The walls were straight and even, constructed from some kind of metal and an immaculate cleanliness permeated the air which they breathed, though it was a stuffy sort of clean. It smelled of something strange and rather unpleasant, but they couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.

There was, taking up nearly half of the room, a large metal machine. It was oddly shaped, gleaming and pulsing with an unnatural light. The man was now standing beside this, tapping certain bits of it and saying "Hmm.." to himself every once in a while. They thought they might have heard the word "unstable" uttered from his mouth, though he was mumbling in a low tone, so they couldn't be sure. He still made no move to speak to them, and the few of them that weren't studying the room around them in wonder began to talk among themselves, exchanging and comparing theories and plans.

After a short time had passed, they were thoroughly unnerved by this man's silence, and Dwalin had had enough. He made to go over to try and "persuade" the man into giving them some information, but just then the scientist turned and, with a scholarly tone in his voice, began speaking.

"I understand that you are confused. Please, allow me to be the first to welcome you."

He was about to go on, but Bilbo interrupted him.

"Excuse me, but, ah, where exactly are we?" His eyebrows rose as he spoke, indicating his growing level of annoyance.

The man smiled, as if he were talking to a child.

"You are in the Capitol."

Thorin stepped forward then.

"The capital of what?"

Looking slightly annoyed, the man replied.

"The Capitol, in the great nation of Panem."

When he offered no further explanation, Balin questioned him.

"Well you see, lad," The man was, in fact, in his forties. "We don't really know where Panem is, so you'll have to be a bit more specific."

He hesitated, carefully contemplating his next words.

'Strange,' Balin mused to himself, 'that a simple question such as mine could warrant this difficult response.'

The entire group's patience was running thin. They were on the breaking point when the man finally spoke.

"I'm afraid that I'm not qualified to inform you on the situation," At this, the entire company grew wary. "I will inform the President that you have arrived, and someone will arrange for you to meet with him." He stopped there, the look on his face telling them that he was completely aware of the fact that he was holding out on them. They wanted more information, but his tone left no room for questioning.

Choosing a different tactic to illicit information, Thorin posed another question to the man.

"Who is the President?" This was, apparently, a safe question, as the man responded immediately.

"President Snow, the leader of this fine nation." Then, further irritating them, he added: "He will answer any additional questions during the official meeting."

Turning away from the dwarves, he proceeded to pull some strange device from his pocket and speak into it. He seemed to be explaining something, as he talked for a long while, but he spoke quietly so that none of them could hear what was said. Accepting his momentary distraction, Thorin nudged Dwalin, who was standing next to him, and nodded his head toward what he took to be the door. The problem was, he couldn't really tell whether it was truly a door or not. It was a rectangular shape, bearing no other distinction than to be set a few inches into the wall. Other than that, it could've passed for another indistinguishable part of the room.

Scrapping his idea of sneaking away in favor of gaining some help, Thorin spoke to the man.

"Where is the door knob? How does it open?" He received no response, so he rolled his eyes and turned once more to the door. His intention was to break it down, but he was surprised to find that the panel glided quickly and silently into the wall at the lightest touch. Well, he wasn't going to question it. He motioned for the company to follow him, murmuring a quick command for them to be quiet. He wished to remain undetected for as long as possible, not knowing what sort of welcome they would find in this place. He only hoped that the man they had met upon their arrival had not already informed the other inhabitants of their whereabouts.

Looking around him, he found that he could see nothing at either end of the long, blankly white hallway in which they stood. For all he knew, it could go on infinitely. After the strange turn of events this day had taken, he honestly wouldn't be surprised. There were no doors, or other passageways leading off this one. Then again, there could be some further down that he could not see yet. Making a split-second decision, he turned to the left and began walking, the company trailing along behind him.

They moved slowly, making a great racket due to the metal they wore, the closeness as which they were forced to walk, and the general loudness that is typical of dwarves. It was made worse by the fact that the noise they were making reverberated off of the marble walls and flooring which surrounded them. Bilbo cringed sympathetically, quite grateful that he wasn't wearing armor and shoes which would only add to the clamor. Looking around, he chuckled as he realized that the dwarves had, consciously or not, positioned themselves with their brothers by their sides.

They had hardly made it two hundred feet down the endless hallway when a roar erupted from behind them. A great blast of searing heat and wind knocked each and every one of them off of their feet and sent them hurtling onto the floor. They landed in a tangled heap, and when they finally were able to get sorted out and look for the cause of the commotion, they were shocked to discover a gaping hole blown through the wall, originating in the doorway of the room from which they had just come. A smoky-black color had charred the white marble up to where they were now standing.

"There's no doubt about it: that man is dead. Unless he found some clever means of escape, which seems unlikely" Balin spoke in a slightly snide tone of voice. Indeed, none of them were feeling too kindly toward the irksome man. Still, they were rather sorry he had met such a fate.

"What do we do now?" Bofur asked, looking around the group for an answer. Most of them were still staring at the room which had been the source of the explosion, but Thorin was gazing down the hall with an odd look on his face. At the sound of Bofur's voice, his attention snapped back. He leaned down to pick up the weapon which he had dropped.

"We will keep moving in the direction we were heading, and hope that we see the light of day soon. I am tired of being trapped indoors."

Half an hour later, they were still trudging along the empty passageway. Not even those of them with the sharpest eyesight could spot the end of the hall. Many of them were beginning to wonder whether they should have gone in the opposite direction, but Thorin insisted that they keep moving.

"It has to end somewhere." He would justify grouchily.

Just then the noise of footsteps, not their own, sounded in the otherwise-empty passageway. Ahead, it seemed, was another hallway which broke off from this one, but they had been too far back to see it before now. 12 men stepped out in formation, pointing their weird-looking weaponry at them. They were clothed completely in white; save the strange black-glass helms they wore to cover their faces. This made it difficult for their eyes to separate them from the walls. Their uniforms were an odd choice, to be sure, for they gave the illusion that they were somehow a part of the building itself.

The dwarves reacted quickly, each holding their various weaponry in a defensive position. The strange warriors made no move to attack. In fact, they made no noise at all. They stood like statues, as if they were awaiting a command. Then, another man appeared from the side-hallway. He was old, and wore a dark suit with a white rose pinned to it. His bearing and overall look made it obvious that he was in charge.

"Greetings, honored guests" He spoke with the voice of a snake; smooth, sweet, but venomous nonetheless. Thorin stared straight at him, unflinching.

"And who might you be?" He questioned, his voice cold. He didn't feel like much of an 'honored guest' at the moment.

The man smiled, the expression grotesque on his face.

"I am President Snow, and you are Thorin Oakenshield. I'm not one for beating around the bush, so let's dispense with the usual formalities, shall we? I have a proposition for you."