I was wet and I was cold. Life and death experiences were not fun.

You see, there may, or may have not been a largish bee hive. And I may or may not have tried to knock it down with a stone.

Honey is very tasty after all.

Usually I couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with any sort of projectile, but Aule must have thought to amuse himself that afternoon.

I did knock it down, only to remember bees can be nasty when disturbed. I don't always don't think these things through.

Needless to say I was running for my life. I ended up jumping in a river, but the bees seemed to wait for me to come out before continuing their chase. I, of course, was unaware of this when I climbed out of the river on the other side and was preparing to do my victory dance.

I was lucky I heard the buzzing. But instead of being smart and jumping back into the river, I decided I would run.

Which might have worked out for me had my left leg been in perfect condition at the time. It wasn't in case you were wondering.

However, I was in luck. While running, (or skipping, in fact, that may be a better description), I had a large stone wall in my path.

Or rather, it was a large stone wall. One side was taller than the other (relative to the ground). I was lucky to be on the side closer to the ground, and jumped over it.

I wasn't prepared to fall so far though.

I landed on my stomach, (Small blessings. I don't think my back could have taken it.) And all the air whooshed out of me.

I was dangerously close to some cow leavings.

And alarm bells started ringing, because few people have cows without one bull, at least. The bees had flown over me, only for me to be in a cow pen.

I leave you to fill in the blanks, but I will tell you I was left with several large bruises, and aching legs.

It took me another hour to find the path again.

It was almost nightfall. And, as I mentioned, I was cold and wet. I can't stand the cold.

I was holding on to the promise there would be a warm fire and good food, but my spirits were quickly falling as I failed to find the elusive hobbit hole.

I was about to cry when I noticed deep footprints. Dwarven foot prints.

I started whistling as I followed them.

They lead to some nice stone steps. And there was an open door where two people were being let in. I followed quickly, letting myself in as I noticed the host, (he was distinctly unprepared for the two dwarves in front of me) did not notice me as I hung my cloak up on one of the many hooks on the wall. The dwarves however gave all of their weapons to who I would later learn was Mr. Bilbo Baggins, a Halfling, from the Shire.

I recognized the blonde dwarf. His wife was an old friend of mine. And by my excellent powers of deduction I figured out who the other one was.

Fili and Kili, sons of Dis.

May the Valar help us.

They were quickly pulled aside by a largish dwarf. I wasn't really paying attention to who it was. None of them noticed me.

I am rather less than spectacular, I suppose.

The hobbit turned around and jumped a foot in the air when he saw me.

"Hello. May I help you?" He looked rather put out by the copious amount of water I was dripping on his floor. And the fact he hadn't seen me come in.

"Hils, at your service." I gave him a smile as I bent down to take off my muddy boots. I detected a large sigh.

"Bilbo Baggins at yours." He looked at me oddly.

I get that a lot.

"You look like you could use a towel and a warm fire."

"If it's not too much of an inconvenience."

Bilbo looked at the portal where there were noises of furniture moving, and then looked at me.

"I doubt one more inconvenience will matter." He looked rather crestfallen; I couldn't really help patting him on the shoulder. He flinched and then backed away slowly.

I made that sort of impression on people. Or it could just be I was wet and probably smelled really, really bad. (I tripped a few times in the field.)

"There's a washroom, with soap, down that hallway to the left. I hope you have extra clothes."

It must have been the latter.

"I do." I kept smiling and resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

He went to get me some blankets, and I headed towards the "washroom". It was a nice little room. Not spectacular, (a good match) but rather well equipped one. It even had a shower knob attached to a large wooden barrel. It was just my size.

Every part of my being wanted to take my time. Let the water soak away the aches and pains.

But Aule was apparently still in need of entertainment.

I had just stripped and turned the shower knob when a several large bangs echoed throughout the room. I may or not have startled and hit my head. Multi-lingual curses flowed through my lips with passion I didn't know I had.

"We have a bit of a problem here. You've been in there long enough." The voice was obviously dwarven.

Yeah, for a total of thirty seconds. I had barely closed the door.

"Give me two minutes." I had a minute; dwarven time goes faster when they're impatient.

I got clean in record time. I was lucky the stuff was mostly on my clothes and the soap was scented. Barely drying off, I opened my pack (it had oil on it to repel water) to find someone had snuck in a dress.

Curse the woman.

I dug further into my pack to find my extra traveling clothes, and to make sure nothing was missing.

There wasn't.

But there were a few extra things.

I didn't have time to explore the pack before the banging was back.

"We will break down this door."

Was someone dying?

I threw on my clothes. (Gracefully, mind you. Have you ever tried to put on breeches while wet on a slick surface, even when you're not in a hurry), I was sure someone must be dying. That was the only reason they could possibly have for disturbing me.

I was about to put my hat on when I noticed it still smelled bad.

I sighed.

I threw all my dirty clothes into what looked like a wash basin.

I cinched my belt, (I'd have to clean it by hand later) and opened the door to see about twelve angry dwarves glaring at me.

I counted.

Yep, it was twelve.

And then there was an old man with a pointy hat glaring at them.

They were evidently surprised to see me. Apparently, I wasn't what they were expecting.

They were staring at me. I turned right back around to grab my pack.

They were still there when I turned back around. They seemed to be in shock.

I guess I would have to go first.

"Hils, at your service, for those of you I haven't met." I gave as good a bow as I could with my pack in my hands, which is a pretty decent bow. (I've had more practice than usual lately.)

That got them started. They started murmuring to themselves as I made my way through the press to the front door, where I put my stuff down.

They would be gossiping until there was food, or someone got down to business.

Dwarves love gossip.

Especially when they don't know anything.

Those who do know me will probably keep their mouths shut.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around slowly, well slowly for me anyways. I have a tendency to make every action faster than is completely necessary. (I'm usually in a hurry.)

And it was with a sigh of relief that I turned to see the twinkling eyes of Balin.

Balin is the grandfather you never had, the teacher you wish would let you go outside, and the warrior you can't see.

A bit shorter than me, (And that's really saying something.) he has a sharp wit.

And he knows it.

"Well, let me look at you now," he grabbed my biceps and twisting me one way then the other.

He looked a bit displeased with what he sees.

"Have you been eating well, lass?"

I smiled.

"Of course."

Not. Times are tough. He should know that as well as anybody. Even jacks-of-all trades like me can't always find decent work. I can go without food for a while, but I can't stand the cold, so most of my money is spent on warm clothing. Or weapons, but that's a very different story.

"There's food in the kitchen, lass." He didn't believe me. Of course, he knew me as a young child, so he can be expected to know some of my tells.

I nodded and turned to go to the kitchen, but he kept a good grip on my arms.

I sighed again. I seem to be doing that a lot.

He mimicked me, but let go of my arms. He kept his eyes on me, trying to figure something out. I tried to resist the urge to squirm.

"Why are you here lass?" He asked.

Ah.

"Orim couldn't make it. He sent me."

His eyebrows rose to unimaginable heights, (even for him), and he crossed his arms.

I nearly stamped my foot. But that wouldn't help anything, but it might have gotten me thrown off the quest.

I was half tempted to do it for that reason alone.

I bent down to my pack again, opening a hidden, (and sealed), pocket. I pulled the two packs of letters out and handed them to Balin.

One pack was my recommendations, and the other was the summons from the king and an explanation from my cousin of why he couldn't make it, and why he sent me.

I'm not really sure about the last one.

I stood there as he read over the explanation first, (It was still sealed, though I was more tempted to open that than anything else in my life.) and ignored the summons (He probably wrote that). He handed me back the recommendations without reading them too. I gave him my questioning look.

"The letter tells me all I need to know." I shrugged and put the recommendations back in the pack, noticing he kept the letter from my cousin, Orim.

He steered me towards the kitchen, hands on my shoulders.

Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

Did I say Ow?

The table was empty except for two dwarves.

I didn't know the younger one, but the female dwarf, I knew her quite well.

This was going to be a lovely trip.

Balin pushed me into a seat across from them, before taking a seat at the head of the table, as usual for the oldest, (or highly ranked, but even they usually give up their seat to the oldest), leaving me to fend for myself.

The younger one looked like he had barely come of age, and he thought I was going to eat him.

He was at least a hand taller than me.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I really did.

The woman noticed her "attentive" audience was looking like a rabbit, and followed his gaze to me.

I was surprised with how high she could jump.

Twyla was a rather tall dwarf, beautiful by dwarf standards.

Long hair, magnificent beard, and curves in all the right places.

I absently rubbed my clean jaw. Balin noticed and raised his eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes at him.

He sent me a warning look.

"Lash, what happened to your hair?" Confound the woman. I had hoped no one would notice. Balin hadn't said anything, of course he was known for being polite to a fault.

I kept my face locked into a smile.

"I go by my given name here."

She looked very regretful.

"I'm sorry; I've been calling you Lash for too long."

"Hils."

She wasn't being rude; the girl has the worst memory in the world. I'm surprised she remembered I was sometimes called Lash, even after living together for five years, and occupying the same area for most of our lives. I quickly changed the subject.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were about to marry what's his name."

"He died, was eating dinner, had a heart attack and fell into his soup."

"Mushroom?"

"How did you know?"

Twyla had the misfortune of a mean and greedy father (And unfortunately very, very powerful). Constantly in debt, the creditors usually found themselves engaged to Twyla in recompense. They all then died mysterious deaths. Everyone was sure she just had the worst luck in the world.

I knew better.

In spite of forgetting nearly everything else, she was a talented healer with in depth knowledge of many natural remedies.

And, of course, poisons.

Even if anyone discovered she was behind the deaths, no dwarf would blame her, arranged marriages were thought of as undignified, and most fathers were considered dishonorable if they made that sort of agreement.

Females are very rare and held in special regard among dwarves. Even a fair court would say she had the right to defend herself.

"So, quest?" I tried to get her to focus and distract myself from laughing at the smirk on her face. She was probably not the best person to annoy.

"Oh," She jolted back to the present. The last fiancée must have been especially annoying. "I'm here under Oin for a basic knowledge of the apothecary, and to learn how to care for battle wounds. But with you here I don't think I'll need to."

I rolled my eyes. "You're going to have to learn one of these days."

"Says who?"

I then rolled my eyes at her and turned to the lad next to her. Though she wasn't at the door when I got out of the washroom, he most certainly was. And his hair was wet.

There must be an interesting story behind that. Because obviously, from the lack of copious amounts of blood, no one was dying, so there must be another reason why eleven dwarves were in dire need of a washroom. (A rare occurrence, I assure you)

I waited for him to give me his name, as was proper. I had already given him mine. Twyla, noticing the fear on his face, leaned over and whispered to him.

I was sure it was along the lines of "She doesn't bite."

Liar. I do bite. But I probably wasn't going to bite him.

He swallowed and visibly gathered his courage before stuttering out,

"Ori, at your service."

My face broke into a large grin.

"You're Nori's little brother."

He nodded, torn from being disturbed that I knew his brother, and awed that Nori had talked about him.

"Last time I saw him, he said you worked as a bit of a scribe and a bit as a librarian."

He nodded, looking more comfortable by the second.

"What do you study?" Scribes were usually known for one area of study, but had general knowledge of almost everything else.

"I'm not sure yet. I like drawing, but I would really like to study languages." He was confident with this subject.

"There's a good career in either of those. What languages do you want to learn?"

"I need to work on my Khazdul, a lot of the manuscripts were ruined in the fall of Moria and Eridor, and so I need to find a good teacher. But I am very interested in learning…." He trailed off looking embarrassed.

I made sure no one outside the room was paying us any mind, before I spoke.

"Do you want to learn Sindarian or High Elven?"

His mouth dropped open. I continued to speak, though in common.

"It is very useful for trade and what not. However, I doubt you would be doing much of that. Spying and diplomatic talks would be considered a good reason to learn."

He was still gaping at me.

I cleared my throat, that didn't work.

Am I just that shocking? This could get annoying really, really fast.

"You're catching flies."

I would like to say I wasn't the one to say that to the poor lad.

The person, who said that, was the scariest dwarf I had ever seen.

Well dressed, hair neatly braided and a dignified manner that spoke of an arrogance of the well-learned, paid, and mannered.

I'm always afraid to offend these people on our first meeting. I don't like making enemies of people before I know them, and people who judge on appearance and mannerisms are hard for me to make a good impression on.

If I fail, I fail, but I have to at least try.

He first introduced himself to Twyla, (Surprise, surprise) and then he turned to me.

I could tell he was just as uncomfortable with me as I was with him. And not because he thought he was better than me.

I instantly relaxed and smiled at him.

He didn't smile back, but he relaxed a bit.

"Dori, at your service." And then he gave the most magnificent bow I had ever seen. I was in a state of awe; I wanted to know how to bow like that. I was about to stand up and applaud.

I'm sure this showed on my face, because Twyla burst into giggles and Dori looked very pleased with himself. Ori even had a smile on his face.

He sat down between Twyla and Ori.

"I'm sorry; I was in a bit of state when you introduced yourself." I kept smiling.

But it was hard.

"Hils."

"Ah, I think I've heard of you. There were some refugees that came to the Blue Mountains about twenty years back, accompanied, and protected apparently, by someone named Hils."

I am afraid I sputtered and then choked for a moment. I had thought no one would remember that.

Rather hoped. I wasn't ashamed of doing what I did, but there are a few things that happened along the journey I would prefer not to be reminded of.

Ever.

Ever, ever

Never, ever, ever.

A hand reached over and hit me on the back. Barely missing the damaged part of my back.

"Who told you that?" I didn't pay attention to the dwarf who had hit me on the back and sat beside me. (It couldn't have been anyone but a dwarf; I would have a yet another bruise for a couple of weeks.)

"A young girl by the name of Nane. And Nori mentions a Hils every now and then." The dwarf sipped some tea. I looked around. When did the food get here?

And there was ale.

I really, really wanted some ale. I wouldn't have cared if it was watered down and tasted like old lake water. Alcohol in any shape or form would have been lovely. My back, legs, head…. Actually there wasn't anything that didn't hurt. And alcohol would at least take the edge off.

I was about to reach for an unclaimed pint when the person next to me grabbed my wrist.

It was Bofur.

Curses.

I glared at him for a moment, and then after the previous indignity, he laughed at me.

But his eyes held promise of swift consequences if I dared to touch a drop of alcohol.

I was considering pouting; I really was, when someone sat a drink in front of me. It was black, piping hot, and smelled unbelievably delicious.

I was going to worship whatever being decided to gift me with this magnificent miracle.

It was Nori.

Ehh, maybe not.

But I did nearly spill the drink, (I know, sacrilege.) knocking him over with a hug.

"Oi, I brought it. He just made it!" Bofur said standing behind me.

He got a hug too.

But both were quickly forgotten as I sat back down, and took a slow sip of heaven.

It was disgusting.

Someone had put salt in my drink.

And by the cackles behind me it was probably Bofur and Nori.

They were going down.

But not until we finished eating, I would have time on the trail to get them back.

I glared at them as they sat down, holding their sides. Ori was holding up a piece of paper that contained my horrified expression. Lad was a decent artist and quick as well. I had become distracted, or this had been planned.

I scowled at Ori.

Nori hit me upside the head, and Bofur flung his arm over my shoulder.

Pain. I switched my glare to Bofur.

"You do realize you have just declared war upon me?"

"That is what we call revenge." Nori said looking very smug and all knowing.

"What did I do this time?" I hadn't done anything, that's what. But I was going to hear their imaginary grievance. It ought to be good.

"You left us, who you claim friendship with, who you have traveled with, and who have shared their bread with you, when there was little to be had, to a fate worse than death."

I had forgotten about that. It was entirely true. I was cowardly; I was weak; I abandoned my friends. There could be no forgiveness from this impossibly horrendous crime.

I had left them to deal with Dis.

"Would you accept eternal servitude?" I asked, voice muffled because my head was in my hands.

Bofur clucked his tongue at me, and I sensed Nori shaking his head.

"I don't think you understand." Nori explained, as if to a child. (Which, I suppose, I might as well be according to him.)

"You left us with the Queen of Terror herself. Instead of going about our daily business and enjoying some much earned freedom, we were forced to not only meet the royal family, but were also forced to work with the council when it came to the feeding and housing the refugees. By the time everything was settled, we were unable to return to our life of obscurity. Do you know what that's done us?"

I could imagine. And the image was not pretty.

"We have forgiven you, being the kind, merciful souls we are."

Uh oh. This wasn't going to be good.

I tried to shift under Bofur's arm. It really was hurting, but he must have thought I meant to escape. (Which I would have, if I thought I could, or if I didn't have to spend a lot of time with them in the near future.) He tightened his grip.

More Pain.

"However, I am afraid our traitorous tongues slipped, when the Lady Dis and our good King asked who the refugees called Lash was."

"No." I whispered.

"Oh, yes. Seeing as we do not actually know your ancestry we were unable to give them that, but we did give them a good description of your esteemed person."

Not good. Not good at all.

Bofur looked at me strangely.

"There's something different about you."

I quickly grabbed a roll and stuffed my mouth. The table was filled with food by that point, and crowded with dwarves. Nori was luckily distracted by someone else, and didn't hear Bofur's statement. But I still had to deflect Bofur.

"Why did you all need the washroom?"

He looked at me, letting me know he knew I was up to something, and was going to let it go for now.

I just gave him my innocent look, which, I'll have you know, is rather hard with a stuffed mouth.

But it got him laughing again. And he started talking to a...um, heavy dwarf.

I think it was his brother, Bombur.

There wasn't much to tell about the rest of the meal. People walked on the table, burped and threw food. They sang a song while annoying the hobbit. (Dis' sons would have had a hiding if she saw them, and I knew Fili's wife would have a hissing fit.) I only knew five dwarves personally. The rest I knew from brief meetings or general descriptions. Names wouldn't be a problem. However, the old man confused me.

I got up to get some water, (Nori and Bofur were being really strict about the alcohol thing.) while the rest of the dwarves laughed at the poor hobbit, (I gave him a pat on the shoulder as I passed, he just flinched, again.) and was passing the old man when he greeted me.

"Hils, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're a polite one." There was a question hidden in the statement. But I had no clue what it was.

"I don't know what else to call you."

Hint, Hint.

"You may call me Gandalf."

Gandalf, Gandalf, Gandalf. I had heard that name before.

Radagast had mentioned him, I believe, after he ran me over with a pack of rabbits.

Not my proudest moment.

But he had said Gandalf was the name of another wizard. Aule must really like laughing at me. I was better off not knowing. Ignorance is bliss, and all that.

I had enough problems without a wizard's meddling. My brand new shiny goal was to avoid him as much as possible.

"Well, pleasure meeting you." I smiled and was about to walk away when loud (and rather rude) banging was heard throughout the house (Hobbit Hole?).

"He is here."

I think we could have figured that out, Gandalf.

And I never did figure out why they needed the washroom.