Perched in a nearby tree, I watched as the grey wizard galloped past. His movements indicating his search for something as his head turned from side to side. Even from so high above him, I could hear muttering leaving his mouth. I watched as he pulled his horse around and it began trotting towards my tree. Frowning, I moved closer to the trunk of the tree, hiding myself amongst the outreaching branches and leaves. From where I was I could see the wizard perfectly. I could see his blue eyes boring into mine.
Realising I'd been caught, I swung myself down, branch to branch, before I landed lightly on the grass in front of him.
"Lady Celithil," he greeted with a slight bow of his head.
A small sigh left my lips, "Mithrandir."
He dismounted his horse and stride towards me, "so long it has been."
I nodded in agreement, "indeed it has. Though, in that time I have found some peace."
Gandalf nodded, "I am glad to hear that. It was much needed."
I leaned back against the trunk of the tree as he stood by another nearby. I studied him quietly.
His hair and beard were dishevelled, and his hat slight askew oh his head. Creases under his eyes and over his forehead showed signs of stress and old age. His grey robes had dirt patches over the bottom of them and his shoes had seen better days.
"I trust you are not hear for a friendly visit?" I inquired.
"No. I am not. I am in need of your help, my lady."
I held a hand up to him, "please, formalities are unnecessary. Ithil will do thank you."
Frowning slightly, the wizard nodded and continued, "I am aware you know of the tale of Erebor?"
"Indeed. It has been ruled by the dragon Smaug for some years now, has it not?"
"Almost 200 Years. Yet he has not been sighted in the time any longer. Some believe the dragon is dead."
I crossed my arms and looked out over the nearby valley.
"And I assume you have had the tremendous idea of retaking the mountain?"
I turned my head to narrow my eyes at Gandalf. His expression gave it all away, as his eye gave a little sparkle and his mouth turned up in a small smile.
"Others will soon look to the mountain for its position. Not to mention its wealth. The Durin folk need their home back and need to keep it."
Another sigh escaped my lips and I pushed off the tree. I already knew what Gandalf was to ask of me, and I was sure he knew my answer. He moved closer and put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a soft smile.
"Please Ithil, help them reclaim their homeland. You know the feeling of home, and you know how it can be to be away from it. Help them find their place," he pleaded.
Closing my eyes, a growl sounded in my throat.
Yes, I knew how it was to feel at home. And I also knew how it felt to not belong. To not have a place in which I fit. Gandalf knew that, and he'd compared the dwarves' situation to my own.
"I will help. I will do what I can to help these dwarves on their quest. However," I gestured to myself, "what are the chances they would accept an elleth into their party? Or better yet, an elleth with unusual abilities?"
Gandalf raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly in thought. He clearly hadn't thought of that complication. He squeezed my shoulder and gave a warm smile after a few moments.
"Some may not be as accepting as others. But your…abilities…will aid them well in this journey. You are a remarkable healer, best throughout Middle Earth many have said."
He dropped the hand from my shoulder and turned, striding back to his horse. He mounted it and looked down at me, "I will expect you in the Shire at the end of the month. The door will be marked, find your way to Bag End."
He bowed his head, tilting his hat to me before he pulled his horse around and galloped away.

The month had passed and I found myself standing in the middle of an unfamiliar place. Small men and women, the size of children, wandered the paths and fields nearby. Everything seemed so tiny. Their homes were built in hills, with a round door as an entrance. Almost all gardens were perfectly maintained, and many of them were growing pumpkins almost the size of themselves.
I followed the signs pointing that lead me to my final destination. Bag End.
It was nightfall, the stars twinkling above me in the dark sky.
Candlelight flowed through the windows of the small home and voices sung inside.

"Blunt the knives, bend the forks,
Smash the bottles and burn the corks.
Chip the glasses and crack the plates.
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!

Cut the cloth, tread on 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
When you've finished, if any are whole
Send them down the hall to roll!

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"

A figure in a cloak pushed past me rudely and thumped up the path to the hobbit home before banging on the door. Silence filled the hobbit home before the door opened, revealing a large party of Dwarves and Gandalf. Sighing, I waltzed up behind the figure, who revealed to be a dwarf, and slipped in behind him unnoticed.
"Gandalf, I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn't have found if not for the mark on the door."
"Mark? There's no mark on that door! It was painted a week ago!"
A hobbit came forward and frowning at the door.
"There is a mark," Gandalf sounded apologetic, "I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company. Thorin Oakenshield."
"So, this is the hobbit. Tell me Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?" Oakenshield asked.
This dwarf expected a hobbit of the Shire to have done any fighting. It was known to all those who knew of hobbits, that they were a peaceful race. There never had been any war recorded involving hobbits, nor was it likely there ever would.
The hobbit, Bilbo, looked up at the dwarf puzzled, "pardon me?"
"Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?"
Bilbo stood up straight, "well, I have some skill at conkers if you must know. But I fail to see why that's relevant."
"Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."
All the dwarves laughed and moved on as Bilbo stood with his mouth open, unsure as to what they meant. It was then he noticed me.
I'd taken down my hood and was standing in the corner nearby the door. His eyes widened in surprise as he studied me.
"You're an elf."
Gandalf chucked from the doorway, "that is Lady Celithil. She will be joining this meet."
He beckoned Bilbo and myself to where the dwarves have seated themselves in the dining room. I leant against the doorframe, watching them all.
A dwarf with a red beard and hair placed a plate of food in front of Oakenshield, who wasted no time taking a chicken leg and scoffing it down.
None of them paid any heed to me as they all focussed on that one dwarf.
"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?" asked a dwarf with white hair.
"Aye, envoys from all seven kingdoms."
Murmurs sounded around the table from every dwarf. They seemed pleased with this news.
"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?"
"They will not come," Oakenshield informed them.
Disappointed mutters broke out around the table, and sullen expressions took over each dwarves' face.
"They say this quest is ours and ours alone."
Bilbo glanced around the table from his place standing behind Gandalf, "you're going on a quest?"
I tilted my head and gave the hobbit a look of sympathy. He truly had no clue what the meeting was about. Had Gandalf not filled him in?
"Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light."
The grey wizard reached into his robe and pulled out a piece of parchment which he then unfolded. Bilbo stepped in closer with a candle as Gandalf laid the parchment on the table. It was a map.
"Far to the east, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak."
Bilbo leaned over Gandalf, staring at the map.
"The Lonely Mountain."
"Aye! Oin has read the portents and the portents say it is time." The same red bearded dwarf conveyed.
"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold. When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end." Another confirmed.
Bilbo's head snapped up in concern, "uh, what beast?" He inquired nervously.
Another dwarf piped up, "well that would be in reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks, extremely fond of precious metals—"
"Yes, I know what a dragon is," Bilbo cut over him.
A dwarf, seemingly young, jumped to his feet, "I'm not afraid! I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of the dwarfish Iron right up his jacksie!"
Several dwarves began shouting and the young one sat down again after being told to. I admired his courage, but he was naïve. There was no way he could take on a fully-grown dragon. It was an impossible task. If Smaug had torn through the guards of Erebor, what chance did one young dwarf have.
"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just thirteen. And not thirteen of the best, nor brightest." The white bearded dwarf commented.
Outbursts sounded around the table. Arguments over the insult of not being thought of as smart enough, or the best warrior. I kicked my heel against the wall, earning looks from Gandalf and Bilbo.
"We may be few in number, but we're fighters, to the last dwarf," a younger blonde dwarf encouraged.
The dark hair one beside him also spoke up, "and you forget, we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf would have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!"
I glanced over at Gandalf in amusement and watched as the wizard starting choking on his pipe.
"Oh, well now. Uh. I-I-I wouldn't say that. I—" he spluttered.
"How many, then?" A dwarf demanded.
"Uh, What?"
"Well, how many dragons have you killed? Go on, give us a number."
"Hm…" Gandalf openly started coughing and choking on the smoke from his pipe and the dwarves started arguing. Each had their own opinion on how many dragons they thought Gandalf had killed. I picked up a cup of water from the table and handed it to the poor wizard. He nodded a thank you before taking a few sips.
Oakenshield stood quickly and bellowed, "shazara!"
The dwarves all quietened down to listen to him.
"If we have read these signs, do you think other will have read them too? Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? Du bekâr! Du bekâr!"
The dwarves all cheered with him. A few pumping their fists, others banging their feet on the floor and their hands on the table.
The white bearded dwarf spoke again, "you forget. The front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain."
Frowning slightly at him, I decided he was quite a negative dwarf. So far everything he'd said had be downgrading or disappointing.
"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," Gandalf corrected as he twirled a key around in his fingers and held in up for the dwarves to see. Oakenshield stared at it in wonder.
"How came you by this?" He inquired.
Gandalf smiles slightly, "it was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safe keeping. It is yours now."
He held the key out to Oakenshield, and as the dwarf prince took it, the others looked on in admiration.
"If there is a key," The young blonde dwarf began, "there must be a door."
Gandalf returned his attention to the map, running a finger over runes written on it.
"These runes speak of a hidden pass to the lower halls," he explained.
The young brunette dwarf leaned forward excitedly, "there's another way in!"
"Well. If we can find it. Dwarf doors are invisible when closed."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I murmured to myself.
"The answer lies hidden somewhere on this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage. But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done," Gandalf finished.
"That's why we need a burglar."
Bilbo hummed in agreement, "a good one, too. An expert I'd imagine."
"And are you?" prompted a dwarf.
"Am I what?"
"He said he's an expert! Hey, hey!" Another dwarf exclaimed, clearly mishearing the poor hobbit.
Several dwarves laughed as Bilbo looked around at them, "m—me? No, no, no, no, no. I'm not a burglar. I've never stolen a thing in my life!"
Balin nodded, "I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr Baggins. He's hardly burglar material."
Bilbo offered him a nod of thanks.
"Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," a large balding dwarf grunted.
Anger pooled in Gandalf's eyes as he stood, and I shied back, knowing what was to come as the room turned darker and the wizard stood tall.
"Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is."
The whole room silenced and they all waited for Gandalf to sit again.
"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most of they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him. Which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find a fourteenth and fifteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins to be the fourteenth. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know. Including himself," Gandalf declared, "you must trust me on this."
Oakenshield sighed and bowed his head slightly, "very well, we will do it your way."
"No, no, no." Bilbo protested.
"Give him the contract."
"Please."
The white bearded dwarf shuffled forward, pulling out a large piece of folded parchment. He handed it to the hobbit and bustled back to his seat.
"It's just the usual summary of our-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements. So forth," he explained.
As Bilbo looked over the contract, I watched as Thorin leaned closer to Gandalf. Listening intently, I managed to hear what the dwarf was saying.
"—guarantee his safety."
"Understood."
"Nor will I be responsible for his fate."
"Agreed."
"Have you chosen the fifteenth member of my company?"
"I have indeed. She stands behind you."
The prince turned to look at me and I bowed my head at him. He turned back to Gandalf.
"An elf?" he hissed.
"Yes. But her abilities and knowledge will help us along this journey. Please, she will be more help than you know."
"Very well."
Thorin sat up straight in his chair again. Mumbles from Bilbo could be heard as he read through the contract.
"Evisceration…incineration?" He turned and glanced at the dwarves in fear.
A dwarf came forward, leaning in the doorway to speak to Bilbo.
"Oh aye. He'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye."
Bilbo seemed to lose his ability to breathe, "huh?"
"You all right, laddie?" Balin asked.
"Uh…yeah. Feel a bit faint."
"Think furnace, with wings!" The dwarf continued.
Did he not see he was scaring the hobbit?
"Air…I need air."
"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash."
Bilbo leaned forward breathing heavy trying to compose himself as everyone watched. He stood up straight.
"Hmm, nope."
Then he fell backwards.

Once Bilbo had woken again, the dwarves sat him in a chair and handed him a mug of warm milk. He sat quietly, his eyes clouded in thought. He sat there for a while with a few dwarves and Gandalf watching him.
"I'll be alright, just let me sit quietly for a moment," Bilbo said quietly.
You've been sitting quietly for far too long. Tell me, when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you? I remember a young Hobbit who always was running off in search of elves and the woods, who'd stay out late, come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs and fireflies. A young Hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. The world is not in your books and maps; it's out there," Gandalf advanced upon the Hobbit.
Quietly and carefully, I exited the room. That was a conversation best kept between Gandalf and Bilbo. I opened Bilbo's front door and stepped out into the cool night air. I walked down his path a small way and seated myself on the little bench seat he had in the garden. It overlooked the Shire. Everywhere there were lanterns moving throughout the dark. Little Hobbits walking along the winding pathways to their homes. The Shire, a peaceful place, home to a peaceful people.
I couldn't remember what home felt like. I had been in hiding and isolation for far too long. The last place I had felt home, I felt forced to leave.

He held the girl in his arms gently, brushing the blonde hair from her face with a blood covered hand. An arrow was protruding from her abdomen, her blood had soaked the fabric of her dress a deep red instead of its normal green. He had tried so hard to stop the bleeding from around it, she'd not let him remove the arrow while she'd still been breathing.
"Merileth…" he whispered brokenly.
I moved forward, going to place my hand on his shoulder.
"No!" he snarled at me, "this was your fault!"
I took a step back in shock, my eyes wide. His eyes were cold, guarded and his expression one mixed of hatred and grief. My chest rose and fell faster, as my breathing picked up slightly.
"I…" I began.
"No! Just go! You caused this! Go!" he bellowed.
Every word was like a knife being driven through my heart. I stumbled backwards in terror before I bowed my head, turned and obeyed.

I raised my hand to my chest, pressing over where my heart was. That pain was still there. It was always there, eating away at me. I was unsure of if his words were said because of his grief, or if he truly blamed me. I wiped the tear that had escaped my eye and stood quickly. I entered Bilbo's home again, only to be greeted with a silence. Slowly I walked through to the main room and found the dwarves all gathered staring at the fire. A humming sounded from them as Oakenshield moved closer to the fireplace.

"Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day
To find 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"

Their song was a story. The story of Erebor.
It hit me then how serious these dwarves were about reclaiming their home. And I would help them reclaim it, no matter the cost.