As you've probably guessed by now, Bilbo is not going to be in this story. And since Lessil can become invisible at will, she has no use for the Ring. I know that this goes completely against canon, but this is FanFiction, I feel free to take a few liberties. Hope you enjoy how this pans out.

Thanks to all how have reviewed, favored and followed this story. Your support means the world to me!


~~**II**~~

Talks of an Adventure

"So you call yourself a healer. I take it you don't do much fighting."

Lessil crossed her arms in front of her and fought not to huff. Again, she was under the scrutiny of this arrogant, but handsome, dwarf. Sure she had a knife and could brandish it...but that wasn't the same as actually fighting. Lessil had spent most her time with her studies under her mother while Wisty had actually learned to shoot a bow from their father.

But in all her years, Lessil never felt interested in fighting and weapons. She was a healer and they helped people, not hurt them. "Never had the need to." she answered Thorin's question.

Thorin wasn't surprised. Though she is a fairy, a Ringali even, she was also a daughter of Men. Women-folk didn't fight. They were too gentle, too easily frightened. But they needed her gift. How much though?

"Begging your pardon," Miss Ringali asked. "But what did you mean before by not looking like a burglar?"

Might as well give her the answer. "We are in need of someone to reacquire something that was stolen from my family," Thorin told her.

"Will they not give it back?" she asked tentatively.

"No," Thorin replied curtly. And he did not need to tell her that it was a dragon who stole from them. They didn't need her fainting.

It was Gandalf's turn to speak with her. "Let me tell you the tale of the Lonely Mountain.

"Erebor, the mightiest and richest of all kingdoms, stands far to the east. Over one hundred and fifty years ago, this dwarven kingdom stood tall and its people knew little or no hardship. For even the simplest of miners and smiths and cooks were paid handsomely with the great wealth within the mountain. They need not even grow their food for trade was ever open. And the poorest of dwarves could tinker and make beautiful things just for amusement. The halls were filled with glorious armors, jewels, toys, adornments and more gold than was countable.

"The ruler of this mountain was Thror, King Under the Mountain. He was named the mighty king of dwarves, for in his hall shined what was known as the heart of the mountain: the Arkenstone. Founded over a thousand years ago, it was named The King's Jewel and gave to the King Under the Mountain answered to each and every dwarf lord. King Thror ruled with utter surety and never doubted his house wouldn't endure.

"But evil fell upon the mountain. For gold has a way of bringing ill favors, both from outside and within. The gold had captured the attention of a beast named Smaug who rained fire down upon the mountain, and the city of Dale to its south, claiming the treasure within as his own."

Lessil listened to Gandalf's story and it almost seemed like a bed time tale. A kingdom swelled with riches that was sacked by some vile beast. "That is a nice story," she commented.

"It is not just a story," Thorin hissed. "It is the history of the dwarves and my grandfather's legacy."

"You mean, King Thror was your grandfather?" Lessil breathed. It made sense. Thorin had something of a kingly air to him.

Thorin didn't answer. Instead he sat at the head of the table where Nori had set him a bowl of stew and mug of ale.

There was a somewhat awkward silence for Lessil as she listened to the dwarves talk. It seemed they'd all but forgotten her.

"So what went on in the meeting of Ered Luin?" Balin asked. "Did they all come?"

"Aye," Thorin answered, "invoices from all seven kingdoms."

"And what do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" Dwalin asked. "Is Dain with us?"

Thorin paused before answering. "They will not come. They say this quest is ours and ours alone."

The dwarves grumbled around the table.

"But," Thorin continued, "I would take any of you dwarves over an army of the Iron Hills, for when I called, you answered. You have shown honor, loyalty and a willing heart. I am glad and can ask no less."

The twelve dwarves all beamed at him, some agreeing that they would do no less.

"And what is it you plan to do on this quest?" Lessil asked. "Other than my apparent burglary?"

Gandalf pulled a small fold of parchment from his robes and unfolded it on the table. It was a map. The top was labeled The Lonely Mountain and at the side there was some form of writing that pointed to the side of the mountain.

"It is time for the dwarves to take back the Lonely Mountain," Gloin said. "Oin has read to portents," half the dwarves groaned and rolled their eyes as if this was something they heard all the time and were sick of hearing. But Gloin continued on, "and the portents say: it is time."

Oin continued this time. "Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold." He looked pointedly around the table to the dwarves who groaned at him. "'When the birds of yore, return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.'"

"And how are we supposed take back the mountain with only thirteen of us?" Balin stated. "We hardly have thirteen of the best or brightest among us."

That started grumbling around the table. Perhaps because he was an elder dwarf that he had the nerve - and bit of a right - to say that, but that didn't mean the others were happy to hear it.

"Who you calling dim-witted?" Nori shouted. And then a whole row began at Lessil's table where dwarves leaned over and shouted among each other. No punches had been thrown yet, but she didn't want to wait for it.

"Please, please stop," Lessil cried, but none of them heard her.

Instead, it was Thorin who shouted for all of them to quiet and they plopped right down in their seats and hushed. Quite quickly too. "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too?" he exclaimed. "No one has seen the likes of Smaug in sixty years. Others may look to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. They may want to claim the mountain before us. The vast wealth of our people may now rest unprotected, so are we going to sit back and wait for this? Or are we going to take back our home?" Cheers rang from his dwarves and now, with utter surety, he knew the undying loyalty of these dwarves.

But there was Balin, who still held on to reason. "You're forgetting, the front gate is sealed. There is no way for us to enter the mountain even if we do get there in one piece."

Gandalf piped in this time. "That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true." He pulled out an iron key from his sleeve. He pointed to the runes at the left of the mountain on the map. "These runes here speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls. It was made for the safety of the king. The trouble though, will be finding it because dwarf doors are invisible when closed."

The wizard looked to Thorin and handed him the key. "I was given this by your father for safe-keeping. But it's only the key. I know not where to door is and nor how to find it. Those questions we do need answered, but I think I know of someone who can help along our way."

Thorin took the key from the wizard. So they had a way in. It seemed almost too good to be true. He turned to the fairy. "When we get in, that's where we'll need your gift. There is a single treasure that you will go in and acquire for me."

But Lessil was looking at the map and growing quite pale. Gandalf had never specified just what kind of beast Smaug was. "Is that Smaug?" she pointed to the red fire-breathing, winged-lizard over the mountain. She had a strong hunch...but maybe she was wrong.

Please let it be wrong.

"Yes, that is the beast, Smaug," Gandalf answered gravely.

"A-a d-d-dragon?" Lessil stuttered. "Y-you want me to steal from a dragon?"

Ori jumped to his feet. "I'm not afraid. I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of dwarish iron right up his jacksie!"

Lessil stared at Ori. That was the foolish bravery of an ignorant dwarf! He couldn't face a dragon! The others seemed to think so too as Dori shoved him back down to his seat and scolded his foolishness.

"I can't steal from a dragon!" Lessil cried. "Go find someone else!" In a panic, she stormed out of the kitchen. Gandalf went after her.

Thorin watched her go. It didn't surprise him that she would shy away from such a task. Even the bravest of dwarves had reason to reel in fright from a dragon. In his youth, he had barely kept his wits about him as the dragon took the mountain.

Not only that, but it was a long time indeed since fairies had done any fighting. Their males and females were great warriors of old, but now they kept to their solitude. They put down their swords and armor and took up music and magic of the earth. Thorin did not hold it against them. Their history was nearly written in blood, especially those southeast of the Iron Hills. The only time Thorin had met fairies was when his grandfather had exchanged crafts with them. Fairies had an excellent talent for weaving the most delicate and intricate pieces. Much like the ear adornments that the girl wore now.

She was the only fairy who would be capable of assisting them. None of the others would grant them an audience, let alone stomach the idea of facing a dragon.

"It seems we've lost our burglar," Balin mused. "Probably for the best."

"Aye," Dwalin agreed. "The wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves."

Dwalin was right. A gentle fairy was not meant for the wild. She was not a hardy warrior. She was too soft and Thorin would be a fool to deny that she was indeed beautiful. But they could not waste time on protecting some damsel.

"No," Kili interrupted. "Let me speak with her." He made his way across the table.

As Kili jumped down from the table, Thorin grabbed his arm. "We can't afford to have her here, even if you can convince her."

"Uncle, we need her," Kili implored. "We have to try. Fili and I can toughen her up a bit. She's willing to look you in the eye at least."

He was right. If only a little. Miss Ringali did have some spark. "Fine. Go."


"No, Gandalf. I cannot do this," Lessil stammered as she paced outside her cottage. She needed air. This was crazy. How could they ask anyone to do such an impossible task?

"And why not?" the wizard huffed.

Lessil stopped and glared at him. "You expect me to face a dragon for a dozen and one dwarves whom I just met."

"I do not expect you to fight it," Gandalf implored. "Only to sneak under it and retrieve a stone."

"From a mountain that is half a world away," Lessil snapped. "Go find Wisty. Perhaps she will be more inclined to hear you."

"May I ask you a simple question, my dear?" Gandalf inquired.

And why was the wizard changing the subject? They were talking about a dragon on the other side of the Misty Mountains and how Gandalf wants to ask a simple question? Sometimes she really got tired to the gray wizard's antics. Lessil rolled her eyes. "And what is that?"

"Are you happy?"

She looked to the wizard with a bewildered look on her face. What did he mean by that? She got along fine. She had a nice house and gardens and never lacked in anything she needed. The people in Bree were never unkind to her, even if she made them a bit uncomfortable. She had an apprentice even who came once or twice a week. Wisty was content in traveling the world and Lessil was content in her healing. "What kind of question is that, Gandalf?" she exclaimed.

"Will you not answer it?" the wizard merely stated.

Lessil groaned. "Yes, I am happy just the way I am."

"Yes, yes, you are happy all alone here with no one visiting you unless they are ill or have some sort of injury. You are happy being separated from you kinfolk. You're happy that you only see your sister maybe once a year. You're happy at the prospect of spending the rest of your life alone."

Lessil listened to the wizard prattle on, growing more angry with each sentence. Fine, she didn't travel to the fairy realm of Nengalad to see her kinsfolk. It's just...she never found the time. And Wisty was free to go as she pleased, Lessil was hardly going to hold her down. It didn't matter how little she saw her sister because when she did, Wisty was always so very happy. Her excitement was contagious. And Lessil was fine.

"What are you trying to say, Gandalf?" she snapped. "If you are trying to talk me into this you are doing a poor job."

The Gandalf sighed. "I apologize, my dear. I honestly did not wish to upset you. But I visit you and every time it seems that you are disappointed when I leave. You are lonely. Exhausted as you may seem, you enjoy having these guests. Even if they may be a rowdy sort."

Despite her anger, Lessil huffed a laugh. Yes, thirteen dwarves who cleaned her of all her food and left half of it on the floor. Who were only silent as they drank and spilt ale down their beards. Who laughed heartily and sang loudly. They all knew each other so well and they were so happy. Kili thought her beautiful and Bofur had greeted her fondly even though he just met her. Dwalin may be a bit rough and Thorin more so. But some of them were indeed nice.

"Lessil."

Both wizard and fairy turned to see Kili in the doorway. Slowly, the young dwarf approached Lessil. "I'm sorry about my uncle. He's pretty rough around the edges and he's seen some hard times."

Lessil was a bit more interested in the first part than the following words. If it weren't for their resemblance, she would not have believed that sweet Kili was related to the stone-cold Thorin. "I've met my fair share of prickly men, Kili. Don't worry about Thorin," she said, her arms crossed over her chest. Yes, there were some men that rose vile to Lessil's mouth. They usually came around the Prancing Pony and skulked about. She never got into any trouble at least.

Kili nodded. "And I know that the dragon frightens you. I would be a fool to say I wasn't. But we have Gandalf with us, that counts for something. He must have killed a dragon or three in his time."

They both turned to the wizard, the dwarf with a more admirable look and the fairy a doubting one. And by Gandalf's flustered expression, Lessil believed that the wizard felled no dragons in his life time. But Kili didn't seem to need an answer on how many dragons the wizard may have slain.

"But just like my uncle, this is my family's legacy too," Kili continued. "The kingdom of my mother's grandfather. Had I been given the chance to reclaim it, I would without hesitation. And I have that chance. We wouldn't have come here if we didn't need your talent. You're the only fairy to greet us and hear our tale. Gandalf says the others won't hear it, that they don't like to fight or get mixed up in the business of others."

So she was their only hope. It rung like fantasy to Lessil. Gandalf even made it seem so. Why didn't they just leave the dragon well enough alone? It didn't seem like they were poor or struggling, not with the nice clothing and cloaks a few of them wore. Sure they didn't have the legendary riches of the Lonely Mountain, but was that gold worth risking their lives?

Kili stepped closer so he stood just a foot away from Lessil. "If you're afraid of being in the wild, my brother and I will protect you. We'll pay you handsomely to get the Arkenstone back to us, at the very least. I swear this on my life."

Lessil looked down at the dwarf. He was so youthful and earnest. A prince of the mountain that he wanted to help reclaim. He looked up at her with warm eyes, almost like a puppy. "Do you think you can show me those pretty brown eyes and I'll melt at your feet?" she asked ruefully.

Kili grinned. "Well, I would not protest it."

Lessil chuckled half-heartedly. She looked back to Gandalf who gave her a light smile. He didn't try to convince her. This was her decision. They would leave one way or another. The difference would be if they gained one more member of the group. "Just get the Arkenstone?"

"Right from under the dragon's nose," Kili said.

Lessil gazed up at the roof of her cottage and sighed. A dragon. To steal from a dragon. She must be crazy.


Having long finished their eating, the dwarves mingled throughout the cottage. The scent of herbs seemed to cling to the air and all the furniture. This girl was a healer, Oin assured. He could pick out many of the scents that wafted through the cottage. And he was even impressed when he stumbled upon a journal of labeled herbs with hand drawn pictures and one with a collection of remedies that were even foreign to the dwarf medic.

Many of the other dwarves collected in the sitting room with the hearth fire burning. The smell of pipeweed began to permeate the air and join the scent of herbs. Gloin drained the rest of his mug and effectively the rest of the fairy's ale.

Thorin and Balin were still in the kitchen. "You don't have to do this Thorin." Balin said. "We are not so bad off as we were in the beginning. You have built us a life in the Blue Mountains. None would ever say that you have done dishonor to your house."

Thorin was grateful for Balin. He'd been there when Smaug took their home and he was one of the few who understood Thorin's grief. In the beginning the dwarves had been crippled over the loss of their home. Many fled to the Iron Hills, but not all of them could take refuge there. Thorin had spent years traveling through villages of men and doing whatever work he could for a bite to eat. A dwarf prince who didn't even have a place to shelter himself for many a time. No matter what Balin and the others thought, that was a disgrace.

Not only that, but so soon after he lost his home, he'd lost his grandfather, father and even his young brother. In his own lifetime, Thorin had lost so much. His family had lost so much. Was Fili, his sister-son and heir, to be a mere dwarf lord when he could be a king? No, he could give the two of them better. He loved the two of them like his own sons. Not only that, but his people deserved better. Their long suffering was finally given a reprieve of contentment, but that didn't mean they now had to settle on lesser things.

"From my grandfather, to my father, this," he held up the key, "has come to me. They dreamt of the day that the dwarves of Erebor could reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin. Not for me."

Balin nodded slightly. But even if the quest seemed hopeless, the dwarves weren't without it in them. "Then we are with you, laddie. We will see it done."

Just then, Kili returned to the kitchen, pulling Miss Ringali by the hand. She looked scared, but resigned. She looked Thorin right in the eye and said, "I'll do it."

"Laddies," Balin called throughout the cottage. "We have our burglar." Cheers rang out from the dwarves, but it did nothing to calm her.

Thorin wrote up a small contract for Lessil to sign. Cash upon delivery "for retrieval of the Arkenstone of Erebor" that would be up to, but not exceeding, one fourteenth of total profits. All travel expenses will be paid for as well as funeral arrangements - Lessil insisted to move over that part quickly - would be recognized. Thorin signed the paper with Balin there as witness and with a deep breath, Lessil signed at the bottom.

"Now, we leave tomorrow at eleven." Thorin stated.

Tomorrow? "Wait one moment!" Lessil exclaimed.

"Is that too soon for you?" Thorin sneered.

Lessil shook her head. This dwarf. "This morning, I had no idea I was going to be traveling half way across the world. I need time to prepare. I have a house to clean, and hopefully get someone to look after it. There's a garden that needs tending and I have a goat who needs daily milking and have you seen the mess you've made in my house? Give me three days."

Thorin didn't care about the state of a little cottage. "I'll give you one day."

Lessil glared down at him. "Three," she snapped.

"Two and we leave at morn on the third," Thorin said. That was going to be it.

"Fine."


The dwarves didn't stay at her house that night, unless they wanted to help clean. Lessil hardly wanted to do any cleaning herself, but the least she did was pick up all the food on the floor. The rest she could deal with tomorrow. She was exhausted.

The first thing she did next day was call on Margrit who had been her student for the last two years. Together they cleaned the cottage spotless and harvested some of the garden. Then they worked on shortening some of Lessil's travel wear. The two dresses she had that were nice and sturdy could be shortened to just above her knee and could travel well. her trousers and leggings would be fine too. She couldn't bring her herb journals, those would be staying here with Margrit. But Lessil knew it all from memory so she hardly needed it. She didn't need to worry all that much about food since the dwarves said they'll cover it. But a few apples wouldn't hurt.

"And you know where they're found? Should I show you?" Lessil asked Margrit, making sure the young girl knew where to find the nettles.

"I've been there with you before, I can find them," Margrit assured her.

"And you won't forget to milk Lady," Lessil told her.

"And harvest the garden and help myself to the spring? Yes, don't worry. I'm glad you're letting me stay here. It's crowded at home." As one of six children, Margrit had to share a room with three sisters, though one of them recently got married. Lessil needed someone to watch the house and who better than Margrit who knew it best and can still be of help to the village with remedies.

"What am I to tell your sister if she visits?" Margrit asked.

Lessil paused. What could she tell Wisty? "That I'm going on an adventure."

"I thought that was her soft spot," Margrit said.

"Not this time," Lessil said. She had everything in her pack. Just a few apples to store in it tomorrow and she would be off with the company of Thorin Oakenshield.


Okay, so we're off to a slow start, but they'll be on the road next chapter. Just bear with me. Reviews will be loved!