'Onya! There is a visitor for you.' The maid said, signalling for the wizard to sit.
Onya placed a wet, cold flannel on the head of a sick man, his fever worsening. Drying off her hands, she went into the parlour; a smile crept on her face as she spotted just who her visitor was.
'Gandalf my dear friend, how have you been? It has been far too long.' She took his hand, and he beamed back at her.
'Too long it has, you have grown into a fine woman. Your maid tells me you live and work here now, your parents would have been so very proud of you.' Onya's smile faded, looking away to ask for tea.
The two sat sipping tea, discussing old times. Gandalf had last seen her as a teenager; days after her parents had died. She had looked on the wizard as a grandfather when her parents had been alive; his advice upon their death had held her in good stead.
'Well my dear wizard, we have disused the weather, the state of green wood and my family. What is your real reason for visiting?' She said smiling, handing him another helping of cake.
'I still cannot pull the wool over your eyes my dear can I.' He shuffled forward on his seat. 'I have been given some information, information which will I know interest you greatly. But what you do with this information is of great importance, I need to know you will not tell a soul.'
'Of course Gandalf, I have my father's honour I will tell no-one.' She put down her teacup.
'I knew as much. I am overseeing an adventure, one of great peril and pride. The son of Thrain your father's friend is going to try to reclaim Erbor, the dwarves are set to meet this evening in Hobbiton.' He eyed her carefully.
'I have heard of the tale, Smauge the terrible who took over the treasure of the Lonely Mountain. However I fail to see what this has to do with me.'
'That I cannot say as I do not understand myself, all I know is that you are a part of the puzzle. Your skills not only in the way of sword fighting and healing would be welcome on any such journey.' He reached inside his pocket revealing a map, making sure no-one else was present before opening it.
'Gandalf, I do not have to remind you. I have patients here; my people rely on my aid. Besides, my father and Thrain seized being friends the day he died! Thrain never once came to see if my mother was okay, or to pay his respects to my father's memory. His son will not welcome my help and neither will I offer it to him!' She stood from her chair, tidying away the tea things, busying herself.
'Onya, my dear child. Thorin's people are homeless, women and children suffering at the hand of men to survive. No-one but Thrain can answer to the charges which you put before him, but he is long dead. Should his son suffer the consequences of actions he had not control over, should you be made to pay for the follies of your father?' At this she turned to face him.
'How dare you? You come here to ask this of me, then insult my father? I do pay for his follies, every single day of my life, every time I am outcast from villages because of my father's doing. I will not come and you have out stayed your welcome.' She walked from the room back to attending the dying man. She had set herself up for this life of servitude to try and make up for the things her father had done, what more did this world want of her.