A/N: Okay... So I was fantasizing about a certain cute, handsome, funny dwarf we all know and then decided to write it down and turn it into a full-fledged story, I've only got not even a handful of chapters at the moment but I figured I might as well start posting it regardless. It's a completely different story from my Thorin/OC one, I felt in need of something 'light and airy' haha, to be honest I haven't even planned it all out yet (let alone done any editing), but I'm just going to have fun with it and see where it takes me.. Anyways, hope you'll enjoy! :D


Disclaimer: I don't own The Hobbit, this is solely a non-profit fan activity, yada yada, Tolkien, PJ...and that's everything covered! ;)

-Chapter 1-

Lowering the hood of his cloak and braving the few drops still falling haphazardly from the darkening sky overhead, Kíli silently took in the sight around him. The Shire was still breathtakingly beautiful in its simplicity and seemed as unaffected by the world outside of its borders as when he had visited it last. It now bathed in the dying light of a muggy summer's day that had caused the few clouds to swell and eventually clash so a refreshing shower of rain had poured down on him and his companions. He let his gaze travel down from the streaks of purple and orange overhead until it rested on the four dwarves that, reins in hand, led their ponies down a narrow path that ran around the crown of one of the many grassy hills that made up Hobbiton. A wave of gratitude that they had come with him washed over him as he observed each of them in turn.

In front walked the cheerful and loyal miner, floppy hat on his head and his trusted and rusty mattock dangling from his belt, swaying with every step he took. Behind him Ori was softly patting his white and brown speckled pony, the hand rubbing its muzzle half hidden in his knitted mittens he continued to wear whatever the season. Probably quirking an amused brow because of this was Nori, who followed his younger sibling at a leisurely pace, lips pouted as he whistled an old travel song which had the healing master following in its wake bury his battered ear trumpet even further into his ear, eyes wildly shooting from left to right in search of the strange bird he thought he was hearing. He himself brought up the rear, not counting his lazy gray pony that plodded along and needed the occasional reminder that they hadn't reached their journey's end yet.

They had been traveling through the Shire with its babbling brooks and green fields dotted with shrubs and trees for four days already but as they turned the corner now, rounding the tallest hill yet, the view of the small hobbit town made him instantly stop in his tracks. Had their following the East Road and crossing of the Brandywine Bridge to enter East Farthing already released a barrage of memories, looking out over the collection of low, thatched-roofed homes with hobbits merrily sauntering across the cosy and colorful lampion lit square flooded his heart with all he tried to remember and forget. Above all the sheer peacefulness made him stagger as the contrast with how he felt inside made it seem as if something solid and unforgiving had slammed hard against his chest, momentarily robbing him of air.

Kíli took an instinctive step back and inhaled deeply through his nose to steady himself, the sweet scent of a myriad of flowers entering it unbidden as well making him close to lightheaded. Ironically, though, he had never felt so heavy in his life. Nor had he ever been more aware of the weight that was on his shoulders as he thought of the reason for their return to the Blue Mountains. What they had to do once they got there. What he had to do. Kíli automatically felt with his hand in his pocket where his fingers briefly bumped against the cold touch of the oval-shaped, polished rune stone given to him at their parting by his amad. At least he had kept his promise to her. But how.. How was he going to tell her...

Swallowing down a lump in his throat he shook his head and blinked back stubborn tears he really could not give in to right now. Mahal he was he a wreck..! Clenching his jaw and tasting that sourly tinge of bitterness on his tongue he tightened the hold on the reins in his hand, making the leather creak as he forced himself to place one foot in front of the other again, pulling his grazing pony along as well. Soon, and to his relief, he had caught up to the others who fortunately hadn't noticed he had fallen behind a little. After a few more turns they finally reached their destination for the day.

Arriving at the smial built into the hill itself at the end of Bagshot Row they all tied their ponies to the fence, leaving them to feast on the long grass that peeped under, through and over it. Twilight had now fully set in and here and there stars appeared, twinkling wistfully overhead in the sky a deepening blue. Kíli stared up at them with the wonder he usually felt spread through him whenever he did this. He had almost lowered his head again when, inexplicably, his heart suddenly clenched, his shoulders tensed and the hair in the back of his neck stood on end. Next instant his eyes narrowed instinctively when the far way, little light he had gazed at grew brighter then dimmed before it fell, its long tail a fiery streak against the coming evening. Kíli gasped at the sight, overwhelmed by a sense of loneliness and regret for the distance between him and that star he felt so connected to despite the fact that it was part of a different world.

"Come to me.." He whispered pleadingly, giving in to the words that had entered his head as if on their own accord. There had been a powerful tremor in his voice and the intense longing he had uttered made him take a faltering step back only to bump into the dwarf behind him. Bofur placed a hand against his back to steady him, a friendly smile flashing across his face, "You all right there, lad?"

Kíli lowered his head, hurriedly mumbling over his shoulder to the miner that he was and trying his best to calm down the inner turmoil he felt stirring in his stomach. He shook his head slightly, a silent reproach to himself for allowing to be so overcome by his unusual reaction to that shooting star and letting himself be pushed and prodded in his companions' impatience to get to the gate. It soon squeaked open and in something close to a procession all five dwarves trooped up the steps leading to a familiar round, green door with a bronze handle in the middle. Having ended up being the first of their line Kíli halted in front of it nearly overcome again with emotions but this time springing from the presence of the powerful ghost of a night more than five years ago. He raised a fist to knock but before he could his gaze strayed down the door and he almost saw again the illuminated rune glowing a bright blue as it had done that April. This time, though, Fíli did not stand next to him and his absence did nothing for his already faltering courage. He missed his nadad. They had never been separated this long before although it had not even been four months since he and the others had left Erebor for the Blue Mountains. He knew deep down that the latter would no longer feel like a home to him once they got there. Not anymore. And yet, the Lonely Mountain wasn't home either. Maybe never would be. Perhaps no place could be. Not now when.. Not now Thorin.. Now his uncle..

The others had silently gathered around him, sending him careful and expectant looks that pulled him out of his gloomy reverie. Noticing his hesitation, Bofur stepped up to him and placed a hand supportively on his shoulder, "Don't worry, lad. I'll tell him." On his other side Nori nodded in reassurance then nudged his chin to his younger sibling who caught on and quickly yanked on a rope dangling above him. Kíli lowered his balled fist somewhat in defeat as a clear, jingling and ringing sound erupted from a small bell, causing Oín to jump in fright as he was the one that stood directly underneath it. Next moment there were small, muffled noises coming from inside Bag End and they could hear footsteps nearing before the round door swung open, revealing a good friend who stared open-mouthed at them as he took in the unexpected guests on his threshold. The smile Kíli felt stir somewhere deep in his chest might not be strong enough to make it to his lips, despite everything that had happened and would happen he bent his back in a low bow in greeting, feeling incredibly glad to see their burglar again.


A dull monotone 'pong' forced its way passed my earplugs and resonated in my skull until it rudely woke me from a dreamless half-sleep. I had never been happier in my life for that seatbelt-sign to be switched off though I had barely time to feel relieved that the inhumanly long flight to almost literally the other side of the world was finally over. Still drowsy I tried rubbing my eyes to improve my blurry vision but was mercilessly interrupted when, with an irritated tutting sound and an impatient throat clearing, my frustrated businessman neighbor made it clear he was going to join the other passengers in their pointless attempt to beat each other to passport control with or without my cooperation. Already feeling queasy enough the last thing I needed was to be elbowed in the stomach for fear of what that may lead to (especially seeing there was no way I could recycle the one sick bag to which I'd already generously donated my dinner) I hurriedly tried to get out of the way. Of course this meant I first ended up having my seatbelt cut into my legs when I had heard but not yet acted on that sign above me being switched off and then practically strangled myself with the ridiculously lengthy chord of those cheap onboard earphones still very much plugged into the armrest of my seat and coiled around my neck.

At that point my grumpy jerk of a neighbor decided he had had enough of my ill-timed antics and squeezed himself passed me, breathing heavily through his flaring nostrils and the briefcase he clutched missing my head by inches. At the risk of getting trampled by my other bleary eyed, ruffled-haired and moody fellow travelers I eventually managed to wriggle out from my seat and retrieve my backpack from the overhead compartment only to get in line with what my sleep deprived brain compared to how a colony of wobbling penguins made their way to the ice-cold ocean for a long awaited plunge after having braved the winter huddled together in one spot. I slowly but surely made my way passed the gate and through the necessary security checks to end up waiting for at least half an hour on my suitcase to also arrive at the baggage reclaim. And I wasn't the only one. The middle-aged man that had sat next to me on the plane -loudly snoring too most of the time if he hadn't been typing away furiously on his laptop or harassing flight attendants for more beer- stood with his hands demonstratively on his hips, tapping one feet in annoyance as he stared at the baggage carousel as if he wanted to set it on fire that way. Eyes transfixed on the rotating belt I just started to feel slightly dizzy and hypnotized even by watching the same baggage rolling passed again and again when I finally spotted my suitcase and couldn't help but feel a certain sense of justice when I turned my back rather triumphantly on my impatient neighbor who was still waiting for his.

The automatic doors slid open before me and I inhaled deeply, reveling in the unlimited amount of fresh air filling my lungs again after hours of breathing in recycled oxygen though, no longer used to the real thing, it almost triggered a series of sneezes. As my respiratory system readjusted to my new environment (including the familiar mix of what smelled like secondhand exhaust fumes, trash cans that hadn't been emptied in over a century and the sickening odor of fast-food mingling with cigarette smoke) I headed towards my adventure with firm, determined strides, not minding the fact that my suitcase (the weight of a baby killer whale) nearly pulled my arm out of its socket and that the herd of tourists I had to weave my way through were all naturals at pretending I didn't exist simply because I wasn't as tall as any of them. Remembering the reason for flying all the way over here, however, made me realize this holiday might actually be the first time I would prove to be the exact right size..

I was in serious danger of grinning like an idiot as I conjured up the picture I'd taken of the last plane before boarding, seeing again before me those fourteen enlarged faces smiling back at me when I nearly got run over by a car. Okay. Not the time to go all fangirl and have my daydreaming thoughts carry me off to fantasy land when I still very much needed to connect to reality to get to my final destination. I forced myself to move, trying to keep track of the many signs overhead, frustration building every time the moving crowd around me forced me in the wrong direction very much against my will.

A too long and definitely too expensive cab ride later I at last walked up a long drive in the middle of absolutely nowhere. It felt incredibly good to stretch my legs again after that flight (and I should in fact say flights, as in plural) from hell having to sit in a cramped backseat of a car that seemed to swerve every time it changed lanes for another couple of hours hadn't exactly improved my mood. Still. Taking in the scenery around me excitement surged through me and I couldn't stop smiling. Okay. It wasn't exactly the Shire as I had pictured it, as the website had depicted it, but it was green, there were some hills in the background beyond a cornfield that had just been harvested and, planted right next to a shed doubling as reception, there was one withered and bent oak tree that had weather stained party lights hanging from its tired branches.

Admittedly it got a little harder for me to hold on to my enthusiasm after getting checked in by an elderly lady smiling at me with a set of teeth I wouldn't be surprised she had obtained by a bit of amateur grave robbing and it downright plummeted when a guy with bulging eyes, matted hair and grease all over him dressed in what had to be the worst hobbit costume in the history of badly designed costumes walked in. Yanking the handle of my suitcase unceremoniously out of my hand without so much as an introduction or greeting he preceded me outside. I reluctantly followed as he led me around the dilapidated farm I assumed staff and the family who owned the land they had turned into a resort for crazy Tolkien fans like me lived in, hoping the state of the main building wasn't an indication of what the accommodations would look like.

Within minutes I abruptly halted in front of a round and green door (moss not paint responsible for that color) and just in time held out my hand when the 'bell boy' slammed a key in my palm. He went on to remind me in a bored tone that I would be billed for anything I broke or felt tempted to put into my pockets although I hardly caught what he was saying, I was trying hard not to look down at his hairy feet (naturally grown) seeing the long journey had already killed most of my appetite and I desperately wanted to hold on to what little still remained of it. Hairy feet.. Cute on hobbits.. Gross on real men.. By the time he was done listing of all of the house rules my dwindling appetite was ready for burial.

I was more than a little glad when he finally seemed to leave me on my own only to subtly remind me I shouldn't forget to lock my door at night, adding with a creepy wink he did, in fact, have a master key so they could always come in and rescue me in case of an emergency. Right.. That was the very opposite of reassuring. Still. I looked at the key in my hand starting to feel excited again at the prospect of opening the door of what would be my very own smial for a whole week. I hurried inside and explored my hobbit abode hyperactive-five-year-old style. That came with barely contained screams of joy, jumping on practically all the furniture present and replaying in my head all the hobbit hole scenes of my favorite halfling which I happened to have memorized for the occasion and if I strained my ears I swear I could almost hear his voice, see the expressions on his face and feel his presence as if he was a friend that had joined me (voluntarily or not) on this trip.

OK. Once the adrenaline (which could well have been more the result of sleep deprivation and lightheadedness after not having had a decent meal in over a day rather than justified excitement) started to wear off I had to be honest with myself. It wasn't like on the website. Not even close. The faucet in the kitchen leaked at such an alarming rate that it made me wish I'd brought a scuba diving set just in case, the old four poster bed creaked alarmingly loud when I sat down on it and they had done a pretty crappy job with the overall decoration too: moth eaten curtains with the ugliest flower pattern known to mankind, threadbare carpets that seemed woven from the very dust that lay on it, sconces with fake, candle shaped lightbulbs that flickered erratically, old floorboards with holes in it causing me to fear I'd go the same way as Alice if I wasn't careful, and the list goes on..

Sinking down on a rocking chair that literally sighed out of fatigue when it had to carry my weight (I tried not to take it personal) I studied the brochure the lady behind the reception desk had shoved towards me over the counter with the most disinterested look she could possibly manage. One quick look told me that the program listed only about half the things that were supposed to be part of the deal, adding a series of very uncreative and lame excuses why those weren't available at the moment in the smallest small print ever invented. Trying not to be disappointed and have that all too familiar sense of being screwed over and cheated out of what little savings I had take over I decided to take this vacation day by day and give it the benefit of the doubt. After all, tomorrow promised to be entertaining enough, it being the 22nd of September there were several festivities in honor of Bilbo Baggins birthday, including a dance around a bonfire near midnight preceded by a picnic style dinner under the famous party tree. The brochure also said that we would be joined by THE dwarves for the occasion. That announcement, sounding both exciting and ominous at the same time, had me instantly hope that Mr. 'Creepy-Bellboy' wasn't going to double as Thorin. Or Fíli for that matter. And if he was cast as Kíli then I was definitely going to get a refund.

I got to my feet, willfully ignoring my suitcase and deciding I could unpack it in the morning I only opened it to pull out a towel, then let my clothes slide off of me and headed to the bathroom. Tightly wrapped up in the comfortably soft cloth a faded pink I futzed with the rusty and very uncooperative shower lever, which turned out to be stoically unresponsive to cursing too, but then finally got water running. Freezing cold water to be precise and I had to spent another agonizingly long time trying to get it to an acceptable lukewarm temperature. I was tired, grimy from the long flight (why did my favorite movie have to be shot at a location as far removed from civility as possible?!) but I was still confident a nice, not-so-hot shower but a shower nonetheless would lift my mood. Tomorrow I was sure everything would look much better. This was going to be a holiday to remember. The best holiday of my life.. Yes, that was it-

I froze, pausing that thought with my hands stopping midway in raking through my wet hair. What was that sound? I strained my ears, hoping I had just imagined the shuffling noise coming from the other side of the door. There it was again..! Whatever was making that sound was getting closer, and it was too heavy to be a mouse.. I reached out for the lever, awkwardly fumbling with it until water stopped coming out of the shower head and I nervously listened for a repetition of the sound of someone stumbling around my smial. I heard it a split second later dashing my hopes that somehow the gushing of water on the tiles underfoot had played tricks on my mind. Had that creep made good on his threat and used the master key to let himself in?

Close to freaking out when there was a particularly telling sound of footsteps approaching and the betraying scraping of something being lifted up (a burglar?!) I hurried from under the shower, nearly slipping in the process, and wildly looked around for my towel. I had only just frantically rewrapped it around myself when the creaking of floorboards made me panic and I grabbed the closest thing within reach for a weapon (a toilet brush that used to be a lot whiter.. ew..), immediately swinging around again to face the door and the unknown assailant behind it. Heart throbbing in my chest I reached out for the doorknob but before my fingers could get a good enough hold it was pulled out of my hand and the door swung open.

I wanted to scream but it got stuck in my throat and instead my jaw simply dropped when I stared back into two, large brown eyes set in a eerily familiar face framed by curly hair. The small man was wearing a patchwork robe and knee length breeches that didn't reach all the way to his hairy feet. His mouth hung open in a similar state of shock, blackened poker raised in one hand in a ironic imitation of my own battle-ready pose. I blinked. And blinked again. But I simply couldn't register what my eyes were seeing. Who they were seeing. I'd caught a burglar snooping around all right..


A/N: ...And that was it for the 'modern world' hehe ;), this is the part where I usually make myself all snug and comfy on the couch, grab a bag of potato chips/bowl of popcorn and sit back to enjoy the always inspirational world of Middle Earth! Hope you guys want to read on after this little snippet, I'll be posting chapter 2 too! Thanks for reading and I'd love to know your thoughts! :D