Little little hobbit

Knocking on a door

Call you once, call you twice

Let me try some more.

"Gandalf," Thorin said, stepping inside, "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice. Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for Lady Freya."

"Freya? What are you- you're not suppose to be here," Bilbo pushed out from behind a dwarf to look at Freya. She followed in behind Thorin, who unclasped his cloak and folded it gently over his arm while Freya hung her own cloak and jacket on the last free peg on the wall.

"Yes, she is. I invited her myself," Gandalf said as he closed the door. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin was smiling at a young, dark haired dwarf that came up behind him, but he now turned to look at Bilbo.

"So," Thorin stepped over to examine him. "This is the Hobbit." Freya raised her brows. Leader, then. Thorin did have a prideful demeanor. And now it sounded as though her new companion was judging Bilbo. She assumed this had to do with his comment of 'burglar' from earlier. Was Bilbo to fill that position? Thorin would surely be disappointed.

Thorin circled Bilbo like a predator. "Tell me mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

"Pardon me?" her cousin replied. He was actually calmer than Freya expected, but it seems as though he already had to deal with the rest of the company, all dwarves. Which were quite a few, as Freya could see.

"Axe or sword. Tell me, what's your weapon of choice?"

"Well, I do have some skill at Conkers, if you must know" Bilbo smiled smugly, and Freya had to as well. Bilbo sassing a dwarf was a sight to behold, and he did play a mean game of Conkers; Freya would know, she lost against Bilbo many times. Thorin finished his walk around of Bilbo, and was now staring down at him. Bilbo faltered, "But I, uh, fail to see why that's relevant."

"Thought as much," Thorin crossed his arms and turned his head to look at the companions behind him. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." The other dwarves laughed, and they turned to lead Thorin to the dining area.

There was that word again. Burglar. Why is it so important to the adventure. Freya supposed she would find out later, but did he have to insult Bilbo? Well, her cousin did sort of do the same to him...

Freya followed suit and watched as they placed Thorin at the head of the table and placed a bowl of soup in front of him. A round of ale was passed around by a blond dwarf, and they all seated themselves except for Bilbo and Freya.

"Now what exactly are you doing here?" Bilbo said after pulling her in a corner outside of the dining area where the dwarves were discussing some politics.

"Gandalf invited me here to think upon his offer, I thought I might come," the brunette hobbit replied as she fiddled with the end of her hair, looking at the carpet.

"Yes, I see that you are here. But why?" Freya looked up at him, her cousin looked miffed. "What did Gandalf say to you this morning? About this 'company'."

Bilbo sighed at her attempt to change the subject and gave her a hard look. She spread her hands to the side, "Gandalf said I should come, and so I have. I think I might actually be interested in this adventure. I mean. Oh, I really don't know."

The other hobbit nodded his head, accepting her answer, as he himself did not know what he was going to do. "He hasn't told me much, I doubt I know more than you. Let's just see what this hubbub is all about." Bilbo paused. "Have you eaten?"

"I have come for dinner, haven't I?" Freya smiled at him, he returned it. Bilbo scavenged what was left of some food and handed her a plate and kept himself a mug of tea.

"Your pantry sure took a beating," she remarked.

"And the carpet, and the plumbing," Bilbo replied. "But I managed to save the jam!" They laughed and returned to the dining area.

"They say that this quest is ours, and ours alone," Thorin finished the statement he was saying as Freya pulled herself into a corner and Bilbo the other.

"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo asked.

Gandalf looked behind him, startled at seeing him there. "Bilbo, my dear fellow. Let us have a little more light."

Bilbo made an unimpressed sound at Gandalf's own attempt of changing the subject, but nodded and went to get a candle.

"Far to the east," the wizard drew an old piece of parchment out of his pocket and unfolded it on the table, "Over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single, solitary peak."

Gandalf touched his finger on the map, pointing at the single mountain. Bilbo returned and leaned over the wizard's shoulder, using the candle in his right hand to look at it. "The... Lonely Mountain," Bilbo read. Freya scooted around the dwarf with the funny hat who was smoking his pipe. She stood behind Thorin as she, too, gazed at the map.

"Aye!" Freya looked up to see a dwarf with a wild red mane of hair speak. "Óin has read the portents and the portents say it is time." The two dwarves to his right rolled their eyes and shook their heads at the red dwarf.

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as it was foretold," the grey maned dwarf across from the red one spoke, "'When the behrents of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.'"

"O-a. What beast?" Bilbo asked from the hallway, having returned the dishes Thorin and Freya were using.

"Well, that would be a reference to Smaug The Terrible. Chiefest and greatest calamity of our Age," the odd hatted one spoke from beside Freya. By now she noticed that most were all smoking. Indoors of all places, Freya thought with disdain.

"Airborne fire breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat-hooks. Extremely fond of precious metals-"

"Yes, I know what a dragon is," Bilbo interrupted, looking a bit pale and wringing his hands.

"I'm not afraid," a young dwarf said standing up abruptly, he had a thin beard and was wearing a knitted cardigan. "I'll give him a taste of dwarvish iron right up his jacksey!" Cheers of "good lad!" and "that's right!" sounded, but the dwarf to his left, with a grey, fussily braided beard, grabbed his shoulder and told him to sit down, but not after glaring accusingly at the tri-braided dwarf to his left. Perhaps they were related, Freya mused. If not then they had an interesting relationship.

"The path will be difficult enough with an army behind us," an aged dwarf began, "but we number just thirteen. Nor thirteen of the best. Nor brightest."

"Oy! Who are you calling dim?" "What do ya mean?" "What is 'e sayin'?" were a few of the offended mutters that Freya heard, and she thought perhaps the aged dwarf was as wise as he looked.

"We may be few in number!" another young dwarf, this time blond, thumped his fist against the table. Next to him a dark haired youth looked intently at him, absorbing his words. "But we're fighters. Every one of us, to the last dwarf!"

"And you forget we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!" the brown youth said quite exuberantly.

"Oh, well, no, no. I- I. I wouldn't say that," said wizard stuttered.

"Well how many then," the fussy beard dwarf said.

"What?"

"Well how many dragons have you killed?"

Thorin turned his gaze to Gandalf, giving him a curious look. Gandalf began coughing on the smoke of his pipe.

"Comon, give us a number!" The next moment a balded, tattooed dwarf was standing, and the tri-bearded yelling, and then soon everyone was standing and yelling.

Freya backed away in a bit of a fright, bumping into Bilbo. He, seeing her terror, tried to interrupt the argument. "Uh, excuse me. P-please, please," he began, but they paid him no mind.

"Enough!" Thorin shouted, standing. And all the dwarves grew silent and sat. Thorin's presence was powerful, and his words and demeanor radiated seriousness.

"If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them, too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing. Wondering. Weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people lies unprotected. Do we sit back as others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor!" The dwarves cheered at his inspirational speech, and Thorin shouted a few words in a foreign language.

"You forget, the front gate is sealed," the aged dwarf spoke. They all sat, sobering from the mood shift. "There is no way into the mountain."

So their quest is to reclaim their homeland? From a dragon? Freya's eyes widened at the realization. Erebor seemed a long way off, just how far or long have they traveled. She did not know much about the company, they truly seemed like a rag-tag bunch. But, it is there home. Freya had always known a home in the Shire. People did like her, and the kind hobbits made up in tenfold for those that had less than kind thoughts. Perhaps. No, it was foolish. But. Maybe Freya could help them regain their home.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," Gandalf spoke to the aged dwarf, Balin, and as he twirled his fingers a roughly cast key seemed to leap into place

Thorin stared at the key in wonder. "How came you by this," he whispered.

"It was given to me by your father, Thráin, for safe keeping. It is yours now," Gandalf said, passing the key to Thorin. Freya chewed on a fingernail, furrowing her brow. Was Thorin more important than just the leader of a simple company, intending to take back their home?

"If there is a key," the blond dwarf mused, "there must be a door." The dark haired youth next to him seemed to be processing this information slowly.

Gandalf nodded and pointed with the mouth of his pipe to the map. "These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls."

"There's another way in," the dark-haired youth exclaimed, grasping at the shoulder of his blonde companion. They smiled proudly at each other for their oh so clever logic. Next to Freya, the dwarf with the odd hat stared in wonder at the two.

"Well, if we can find it. Dwarf doors are invisible when closed," Gandalf sighed and pointed again to the map, "The answer lies somewhere hidden in this map. And I do not have the skill to find it, but there are others in Middle Earth who can." At this Thorin and Gandalf shared a look.

"The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, no small amount of courage, with quantities of wit and patience," the wizard looked at Bilbo and Freya, "But I believe that if we are careful and clever, that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar and gypsy!" The dwarf with the wispy beard said, proud at the revelation.

"Burglar and gypsy?"

"And good ones, too. Experts, I'd imagine," Bilbo said over Freya's mutterings.

"And are you?" asked the red maned dwarf. Bilbo paused and looked at Freya before looking back.

"Are we what?"

"He said they're experts. Heh-hey!" cried the grey haired dwarf from across the red maned, this time holding an odd trumpet to his ear.

"Me? Oh," Bilbo realized, stepping back, "No, no, no, no. I'm not a burglar. I've never stolen a thing in my life."

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins," Balin said. "He's hardly burglar material."

"What did he mean by 'gypsy'? I've never traveled outside of the Shire in my life!" Freya stated. Bilbo made a sound and nodded his head with both Freya and Balin.

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," the bald, tattooed dwarf said. Bilbo nodded and pointed, agreeing with him. Freya crossed her arms and frowned. The dwarves were grumbling and growling at each other, and a dwarf that seemed to have an axe in his head was making a 'walking and breaking' motion, which inspired little hope in Freya's view of the journey.

"Enough!" Gandalf stood, a dark cloud that was similar to the mood earlier in the afternoon formed as his temper snapped "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar and Freya Took is a traveler then a burglar and gypsy they are!" the mood eased, leaving the stillness of anxiety in its wake. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustom to the scent of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him- which gives us a distinct advantage." Bilbo began to protest, but stopped himself as Freya laid a hand on his shoulder.

Gandalf continued, this time addressing Thorin, "You asked me to find the fourteenth and fifteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins and Ms. Took. There is a lot more to them than appearances suggest, and a lot more to offer than any of you know! Including themselves."

Bilbo looked surprised at being described like that, while Freya was pondering why Gandalf would say it.

Gandalf leaned over and spoke to Thorin, who glanced at Freya and Bilbo in distaste, "You must trust me on this."

Thorin paused. "Very well, we'll do it your way."

"No, no," Bilbo shook his head and hand in protest, "no."

"Give them the contract!"

"We're off!" Said the odd hatted dwarf.

"It's just the usual summary. Out of pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth," Balin said as he handed two envelopes to Thorin, who slapped them into Bilbo's chest.

The look Thorin gave Freya withered any confidence she might have had left, he looked as if he was not at all pleased that she was intending on going on the quest, not to mention poor 'grocer' Bilbo. But for some reason he gave into the wizard's cajoling.

"Funeral arrangements?" Bilbo squeaked. Freya plied an envelope out of Bilbo's hand and opened it, only to have one end fall to the ground as the parchment unfolded. Bilbo began to read his out loud, which prevented the other hobbit from concentrating, so she instead leaned over his shoulder as he did so.

"Cash upon delivery, up to but not exceeding one fifteenth of final profit, if any. Seems fair," he muttered, Freya hummed with agreement. Bilbo turned and she hopped after him on her toes. "Persons of company are not liable for injuries inflicted or sustained by events thereof including but not limited to lac-era-tions, eviscerations," he opened up a side panel, full of different injury and death types, and Freya winced. "Incineration?" Bilbo stopped and questioned the group.

"Oh, aye. He'll melt the flesh off your bones in a blink of an eye," it was the blunt dwarf with the odd hat.

Bilbo gasped and lowered his arm. "You all right, laddie?" Balin asked, noticing the hobbit's discomfort.

"Bilbo?" Freya asked him tentatively.

He leaned over and rested his hands on his knees, half hyperventilating, "Ya, I feel. I feel a bit faint."

"Think furnace, with wings," the same dwarf said, standing up. Freya glared at him and said "Shut up."

"I-I. I need air," Bilbo said. Freya rested her hand on his back and was about to lead him off when the dwarf continued.

"Flash of light, searing pain. Then, Poof! you're nothing more than a pile of ash," he continued despite Freya's protest.

Freya grew a wild look in her eye as she opened her mouth to shout, but behind her she heard a "Nope" and a thump. She froze and turned around. Bilbo was unconscious on the flood. She sighed and turned back around, giving the dwarf a 'Now you've done it' look. He had the decency to look a bit guilty.

"That was very helpful, Bofur," Gandalf said, standing up to help Freya move him onto a chair in the sitting room.

Once he was settled she sighed and looked at Gandalf. "You do realize, that if we do this, the danger that we'll be in," she said. Gandalf nodded, solemn expression on his face. "And that his reaction is expected," she mumbled, looking down at her cousin.

"I have great faith in both of you."

"I'm glad you do, Gandalf. At least one of us does." Gandalf looked at her with sympathy in his eyes.

"But, I mean," she sighed, deep in thought as she gazed at a candle flame, "An opportunity like this comes around once in a lifetime, if at all. And I think. I think that this 'adventure' is just what I want. Maybe need. I've always written about hobbits splashing in a river only to be swept off into an adventure, and undying romance, and talking horses and giant eagles. And. And maybe its time for me to have my own. So, I accept. I'll go with and be your 'gypsy'."

Gandalf smiled at her, quite pleased with himself. "Gypsy is a relevant term used for describing explorer and mapper, and I was hoping you would use your imagination skills to circumscribe our journey in print. But I am happy that you have agreed. Now, it is only the matter left of convincing Mr. Baggins of doing so."

"That," Freya raised a finger, "Is your task continued. I am going to sign my funeral arrangements off. Cremation, if the dragon doesn't do that, first." She wandered out of the room and went to find Balin, who was seated on a stool across from Thorin. They stopped their conversation to look up at the female hobbit.

"Any news of Mr. Baggins?" Balin asked.

"No, he's still unconscious. I've come to sign my contract," Freya replied, heart pounding at what she was about to do.

"So you are with us? Are you sure, lassie?" the aged dwarf replied as he fished out a copy of the contract, along with a quill.

"Yes," she nodded, taking the items, "Yes, I am very sure." She pressed the parchment to a small table and signed her name at the bottom.

Freya straightened her back and handed the contract back to Balin. "There, done," she said with a sigh.

"I will sign as witness," Balin replied, signing on the line right above hers. "And I," Thorin said.

"Um," Freya started to say, but stopped.

"Yes, lassie?"

"Could you sign the other one. Just in case Bilbo decides later. Just in case," her brow was furrowed and she was frowning, but there was determination on her face.

"Of course," Balin said, and he did. "Thank you," she turned around and walked a few steps before stopping and facing them again. "May I offer you any refreshments?" she asked.

"No thank you, Freya," Thorin replied softly.

"Ah, ehm. Okay," she turned and walked away, but now she popped into each room, trying to find each dwarf. Some were moseying around in the hallway, some were chatting in the den, others in the living room and a few were still in the pantry and dining area. Some wanted a mug of ale, others nothing, and a few wanted some tea.

She got the three seemingly youngest dwarves another mug of ale, and she brewed a pot of tea. Once the pot was done she placed a mug on the table for Bilbo when he awoke, and offered one to Gandalf, who declined. She gave one to the dwarf with the fussy beard, who gladly accepted, and she herself sat down with one on the stool next to the fire. The balded, tattooed dwarf walked into the room and scanned it.

"Fíli, Kíli," he said, and two of the young dwarves looked up, "You two need to make sure everyone knows where we're meeting for tomorrow." They nodded and left, the dark haired one with a little complaint. The blond patted his shoulder and made a joke, making the other smile with him.

Freya watched them all with interest, the way the dwarves acted with each other was much different from how they acted with the hobbits, and even Gandalf. The tri-bearded dwarf caught her staring at them. "Something the matter?" he asked her from his position in the back of the room.

Freya looked up in surprise, "It's just that I don't know any of your names. I know Thorin's, and Balin's, and of course Bilbo and my own, but none of yours."

"I will be glad to remedy that," he replied with a grin. "I am Nori."

"Nice to meet you Nori, I am Freya."

He nodded with a smile and continued, "This is my brother Dori, and my younger brother Ori." He motioned the the dwarf with fussy-beard the who smiled kindly at her, and the dwarf with the thin beard, who said hello.

"Glóin, at your service, lady Freya," said the red maned dwarf.

"Óin at yours," his assumed brother replied, judging by the similarities of all the related dwarves' names, trumpet to his ear.

"I apologize about earlier, Ms. Took. I'm called Bofur, the one with the axe in his head is my cousin Bifur, and Bombur, the one stuffing his face, is my brother," said the dwarf in the odd hat, motioning to the fat, red haired dwarf and the salt and pepper haired dwarf.

"I don't think much harm was done, but thank you," she trailed off to look at the cousin he mentioned. She had seen correctly earlier, he did have an axe in his head! "Oh, dear," she said.

"Nah, don't worry. He's fine, but just don't expect to be able to understand him. He only speaks Khuzdûl now."

"Ah, well. Lovely to meet you all," she said.

The last dwarf in the room that she didn't know the name was the balded, tattooed one. And she was quite tired of calling him that. "I'm Freya, at your service", she said to him, as it seemed as though that is what dwarves said to each other.

"Dwalin, brother of Balin," he bowed, "at yours."

After introductions were made, the tension she didn't know was there dissipated and everyone began to talk freely. Later Thorin and Balin entered the room and settled themselves, and Freya gave Balin her chair as she stood in the back to chat with Nori some more.

-"So, how is it that you're joining this quest?" "That, my dear, is quite a long story. One for another time."-

The dwarves who weren't smoking began to light their pipes, and a few minutes later Gandalf entered the room with news that Bilbo had gone to bed.

That was when the humming began. Freya did not know who started it, but she could tell that Thorin's deep voice was the center of the tone. A movement was at the entrance, and the two young dwarves, Fíli and Kíli, though she did not know which was which, entered.

And then the singing began.

"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."

Freya closed her eyes and let the song wash over her, and for a moment she felt just what it meant to lose one's home to fire, the devastation, the loss and sorrow. She let the song seduce her, solidifying her reason for joining. If not only for her adventure, then for getting them back their home. The song ended and the fire crackle was the only sound for a long time.

Thorin finished his pipe and poured the ashes into the fireplace. "Let's depart," he said, and all the dwarves got up and began collecting their cloaks and weapons.

"I can't believe Mr. Boggins! He dropped your daggers all over the floor. And you'd just had 'em sharpened, too," one of the dwarves grumbled as he bent down to pick up a dangerous amount of weapons off the floor.

"No time to dawdle here, boyos. We'd best be off now ta make it ta the inn e'rly enough," another dwarf grumbled as he opened the door and began herding the others outside.

"Um, Gandalf. Where and when are we meeting?" Freya spoke up from behind the wizard, warily watching the dwarves pick up their many belongings from the poor coat rack.

"That is an excellent question, Freya. Tomorrow morning at eleven be at The Green Dragon in Bywater, there we shall depart for our long journey to Erebor. Pack lightly, but pack for all weather. The mountains are known for their unforgiving cold."

"Tomorrow morning? I thought there would be more time! This is a bit short notice, Gandalf."

"But what would you do in your spare time? Mourn? Plan, visit, pack? A night is all you need, my dear. I shall see you and Bilbo then."

"So he has accepted?" Freya asked, walking him to the door and watching the dwarves wander into the night.

"No, but he will show. I am sure of it. Good night," Gandalf said as he stooped out the door.

"Good night!" Freya called to the dwarves, she got a few hoops and hollers back, wishing her the same. For some reason or another this lightened her heart and gave her a newfound energy. Once they were all out of sight she closed the door, shut her eyes and sighed. It was certainly an eventful day.

When she opened her eyes she surveyed the damage that they caused, and decided her energy can be spent on doing a favor for Bilbo. Freya then spent the next hour cleaning up the kitchen, pantry and rooms; erasing the signs of the dwarves. Much of it was lost in her own thoughts, but she knew the deed would not go unnoticed by Bilbo when he awoke tomorrow.

She brewed herself another pot of tea, drank it, and then headed off to her own home not much later. The walk was uneventful, no bumping into dwarves, or getting rained on by trees. She was alone with her thoughts and it was quite peaceful. She unlocked her round blue door when she reached Overhill, and made to pack her bags. She put her warmest and sturdiest clothes in her pack, along with a good many of blank books and writing utensils, money and anything else Freya thought of. Once she deemed it fit for tomorrow, she undressed and crawled into bed, falling right asleep.

Outside it began to rain, little pitter patterns turning into a light storm. Inside each hobbit hole their owners slept peacefully, with no worries of tomorrow. Except in a hole with a blue door, there slept a hobbit with dreams of adventure. They were not nasty, frightful dreams. It was a gypsy's dream, full of exploring, romance and fun. And over that hobbit there watched a cat, observing her and having its own thoughts of tomorrow.


Author's Note: I had intended on having the first two chapters together, but after looking back on it it seemed too long. So here's the second part!