4/12/15:

THIS IS THE EDITED SECOND CHAPTER! I HAVE GONE BACK AND CHOPPED OFF CHAPTERS AT PORTIONS THAT ALSO MADE GOOD ENDINGS FOR CHAPTERS. AND CHECKED FOR MISTAKES AND AWKWARD PHRASING, AS WELL AS ANYTHING ELSE THAT WOULD RUIN AN (HOPEFULLY) OTHERWISE GOOD STORY.

PLEASE ENJOY!

GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!

~LF221

The Hobbit's shoulders slumped heavily, and he let out a little high-pitched whimper. I now guessed that the poor fellow had already met at least Dwalin, if he was growing to hate guests such as us. As I was standing in between my brothers, I nudged them in the ribs with my elbows, and they suddenly remembered their manners.

"Fili."

"Kili."

"Aili." I finished, and we bowed together. "At yer service." already, Kili was smiling. Fili was, too, just slightly less so.

"You must be Mr. Boggins." Kili chirped. I groaned. How many times had Gandalf said 'Baggins?'

"He means Baggins, sir." I quickly added, with a face-palm, then a massaging of the bridge of my nose. Instantly, Mr. Baggins' eyes went wide and he tried to politely shut the door on us.

"Nope! You can't come in! You've come to the wrong house!" He cried as he did. Fili and Kili surged forward before I could move, and halted the Halfling's quest to keep us out.

"What?" Fili asked. The door slid open with the boys' combined efforts.

"Has it been canceled?" Kili asked. I tried to peer through the wall of backs in front of me.

"No one told us." Fili added.

"Boys!" I said. "Behave!" That didn't stop them, as they completely wrenched the door open.

"Can-No, nothing's been canceled." Mr. Baggins said, looking confused himself as he stumbled backwards.

"That's a relief!" Kili cried, as the boys let themselves in. I rolled my eyes and let out a huff.

This was gonna be a long evening. I then forced a smile, and made sure to be a lot more polite in my entrance.

"Good evening, sir." I said, adding another bow, out of respect for his authority here. He was, after all, the Master of the House here. However, the Hobbit before me simply sent me a darkened look and resumed his handle on the door

"What's so good about it?" He mumbled under his breath, but waved me inside with a resigned expression. I then took a moment while I hung my own bag on one of the empty pegs, and hung the belt with my machetes on top of it to admire this place. It was quaint, and homely, with a simplistic beauty about it. It was fairly similar to my own home, as a matter of fact, if home had rounded halls and doorways.

"Careful with these." Fili warned, but I couldn't see what he was doing. "Just had them sharpened." I could only guess that my brother was dumping his many knives onto our poor host. As I turned to ask Mr. Baggins where the kitchen was so I could make my brothers something to eat (we hadn't eaten much since breakfast, and I didn't want to bother our host with cooking for my brothers; they could eat like horses), I found that Kili was scraping his boots off on a glory box, of all places!

"Kili!" I whined, and politely slipped my boots off. Kili, however, was looking around in oblivious admiration, ignoring me.

"Nice place, this." He noted.

"Yeah." Fili agreed

"Did you do it yourself?" Me and Kili asked at once. Mr. Baggins politely turned his head toward my brother as Fili heaved yet more knives on top of the Half-ling's burden.

"What? No, it's been in the family for years." He then caught sight of his now muddied glory box and blanched in horror. "That's my mother's glory box! Can you please not do that?" Suddenly, there were heavy footsteps, coming our way down the hall.

Is this the burglar Gandalf chose? He doesn't seem to have ever set two feet outside the comforts of his home...and he was supposed to tramp all over the Wild with us...

Then, Dwalin's big, bald head appeared from around a corner.

"Fili, Kili, Aili. Come on, give us a hand." He said with that deep, fairly monotone voice of his, snapping me from my pondering. Dwalin's hand was around my shoulders, and leading me to what I assumed was the dining area before I could protest.

"Mr. Dwalin. Ha, ha." Kili chuckled, and then I saw Balin, and I couldn't help but chuckle. He always has a way of making me smile with merely his presence. He was gazing at our host's dining table with a queer, curious stare.

"We'd better shove this out into the hall, or we'll never get everyone in." He noted. I groaned at everyone's general lack of manners, and zero respect for other's property. Nevertheless, I gripped the edge of the table with everyone else, and helped heave it out into the hallway before Balin throws his back out.

Speaking of other's property, Mr Baggins came walking worriedly up.

"'Everyone?'" He repeated, sounding utterly overwhelmed. "How many more are there?!" He was still clutching Fili's knives and swords.

"Where do ya want this?" Someone asked, ignoring our host's question. I felt bad, but I was too busy focusing on where this table was going to go. I huffed, and was finally able to release the table. I massaged my sore fingers and walked off after our host.

"Uh...twelve or so, Mr. Baggins. I do apologize." I cursed myself that I still didn't know his name. He was dropping Fili's things carelessly in the hallway as he stormed off to answer the door. It had rang while we were moving the table, causing our unfortunate host to nearly panic.

"Oh. No." He groaned. "No, no. There's nobody home!" The Hobbit cried, flinging the sword and the attached strap off, simply dropping the rest of the weapons, which I picked up as I walked. "Go away and bother somebody else! There's far too many Dwarves in my dining room as it is!" He went on, not pausing his storming. I couldn't help but chuckle and walk off after our host. I wanted to see his reaction. And ask him his name. Well, his first name, anyway. "If this is some clothead's idea of a joke," Here, he chuckled with a slightly hysterical edge to it, "I can only say...it is in very poor...taste." He said, pulling the door open to reveal the rest of the Company, collapsing through the door. Instantly, they started floundering about, unable to get up. I laughed out loud as I set Fili's things beside me and Kili's (which I had put with my own weapons, out of politeness. And respect for Mr. Baggins) I saw Bofur, Bifur and Bombur, and Oin, Gloin, as well as Nori, Dori, and Ori. They were still struggling to get out of the tangled mess of limbs and heads they had landed in when Gandalf, Thorin's friend, appeared in the doorway, leaning down to get inside. He had a highly amused smirk on his face. Bilbo, however, looked decidedly not amused as he glared at Gandalf.

"Gandalf." He seethed. He seemed exhausted already, and we hadn't even eaten yet.

I pitied him.

=#=#=#=#=

I felt bad for Mr. Baggins. Honestly, I did. Everywhere one looked, there were Dwarves, either handing me food, or carrying all the chairs they could find in this homely little hole into the dining room. I took the food into the kitchen, and started preparing as much as I thought necessary. I mean, we could eat some of this food raw (such as tomatoes, salad (which there was precious little of) cheese, etc) but I had to boil the eggs, and cook a few of the pieces of meat Mr. Baggins kept in his pantry. Mr. Baggins himself came into the kitchen, and wanted to know what he could do to help.

"Nothing just yet, Mr. Baggins. Just relax for a moment, and-" I started, but Bilbo shot forward into the hall, a frankly hysterical look of pure terror and alarm on his face.

"Not my Grandmother's chair set! Those have been in this family for generations! Put them back!" He cried, and was off like a rocket. Kili was next to visit, and he picked at a hamshack cooling on the kitchen table. I smacked his hand away, however, before his fingers ever touched the meat.

"It's not time to eat yet, Kili!" I admonished in a severe tone, wagging my finger in front of his eyes, before going back to shelling eggs.

"Oh, come on, sis!" He cried, rubbing his wrist ruefully. Thinking quickly, I placed the bowl in Kili's outstretched hands as he reached for the ham again.

"Here! Distract yourself!" I ordered. He groaned. I glared daggers at him, the kind that Kili said reminded him of mother. He immediately sat down and had the eggs peeled in record time.

=#=#=#=#=

By the time we were nearly ready to sit down, Bilbo looked ready to either collapse with exhaustion, or implode with frustration. I sympathized with him. However, once the dinner was this close to starting, there was no stopping it. I tapped Bilbo on the shoulder, and slipped him a platter with a few eggs, some ham, a small chunk of lamb meat, and a couple of tomatoes.

"Whatever you do, don't look in the pantry, Mr. Baggins." I warned. I was about to leave, and sit down when his hand appeared, gripping my shoulder. Mr. Baggins had a face that told me that he was massively ticked off at everything to do with his 'guests'.

Not that I blame him. I was getting fed up with the others, as well. Bilbo had spent most of the time since our arrival racing around, telling everyone not to touch certain items, whether it was food, or chairs, or any other object that we messed with, to be honest.

"Why not?" He growled, eyes narrowed. I huffed, letting my head dip in trepidation. I chewed my lip. I really felt terrible that we had used just about all of his food. But we Dwarves were used to very large evening meals, and we hadn't eaten since our frugal lunch on the road. Put those two together, and we can eat an entire village dry, if allowed.

"Uh..." I started, completely unsure of how to explain in a gentle way that our host was out of food.

"Aili!" Kili suddenly cried, with a strained edge to his voice. I gazed around sharply, and found Fili and Kili, heaving a barrel of ale up between them, and nearly failing. I turned back to our host.

"Sorry, but I gotta go, Mr. Baggins!" I excused myself, and trotted over to my brothers, taking one side of the barrel. The small hobbit suddenly ran off to try and get something or other from some dwarf, if I'm not mistaken.

"Not my prizewinners!" Mr. Baggins growled, and wrestled a bowl of quite lovely looking tomatoes from the hands of Ori, who looked quite flustered at the hobbit's glare. We walked toward the dining area, and we had to squeeze past Gandalf in order to do that.

"...there's Fili, Kili, Aili...uh..." He continued to mutter to himself as we passed, counting up on his fingers.

Why was Gandalf taking role-call? Odd. We set the barrel on a stand, and I helped Ori, Dori, and Bofur finish setting places around the table. That done, I was heading out to bring in the meat.

"-one Dwarf short." I heard Gandalf mumble. Dwalin, who was already on his third beaker of beer, was leaning against the wall leading into the dining area.

"He's late is all. He traveled north, to a meeting of our kin. He will come." I heard as I carried the now cooked whole chicken to the table. Dori was walking up to Gandalf as I set the chicken with the other hunks of meat.

=#=#=#=#=

"No chance!" Dwalin roared from right beside me, setting my ears slightly ringing. This is one thing I hate about drunk Dwarves. They are loud! Incredibly so. I wriggled my finger in my ear.

"We can all hear you!" I growled back. No one had heard me, however, having been drowned out by Bofur at the head of the table.

"Wanna bet?" He cried with an overly excited tone. "Bombur...catch!" He cried, tossing the fourth or fifth boiled egg at Bombur. I mean, Bofur himself hadn't tossed every egg, but it was always exciting (and somewhat gross) whenever the egg landed in Bombur's already overstuffed mouth.

Like it did just now, even from across the table.

The effect was instant. Caught up in the excitement, I roared with the best of them. Then cringed when the crumbs and half-chewed food went spraying everywhere. Bilbo appeared at the doorway, looking slightly mortified at the destruction we were wreaking in his dining area. I felt a twinge of guilt that frankly was washed away with a fresh tidal wave of cheer as Bombur beat the highest number of eggs he could fit inside his mouth at once. Once again, my ears were set a-ringing with the raucous laughter and merriment filling the air.

"Aili!" Kili cried, from directly across the table. I flipped my head toward him just in time to catch a chunk of sausage in my mouth, without knowing how I did it. Everyone laughed, and I felt heat rise in my cheeks. "Told ya she coulds does it!" My brother roared. I roared with laughter.

"No more ale for you, Kili!" I cheered, joined by everyone just as Fili climbed up onto the table, several beakers of ale clutched in his arms. He walked in the narrow spaces between dishes and plates. It was a miracle nothing was...and there go the tomatoes.

"Who wansh an ale?" Fili slurred, and handed one to me, though I didn't...ah, to Mahal with it! "There ya go, sish." He continued. Kili perked up, and motioned our brother over.

"Over heres, bruver!" Ki slurred, and I just rolled my eyes and laughed. After all, he was older than me. It wasn't like I had authority over him. Or Fili, Durin forbid. He would have a five minute explanation as to why I couldn't just say 'You can't have any more ale' and expect it to carry any weight. At all.

"What was that?!" Oin asked, leaning over to Dwalin, who sat beside him. Dwalin burst out laughing.

"I said 'have another drink!'" Dwalin repeated, and proceeded to pour an entire mug of ale down Oin's hearing trumpet. Oin drew it away hastily, and then cleared the ale out by blowing though the end he had stuck in his ear. It made this odd honking noise, to which I, and the rest of the Company, applauded with gusto. Then, as everyone started clinking tankards together, I slowly came to realize that we were engaging in the traditional Dwarvish art of chugging ale, then letting the carbonation out in increasingly loud belches. It would almost be counted as a sin if one did not participate. So up my tankard went, and it clinked with my brothers' tankards, before they went and clinked every tankard within range.

"Ale on the count of three!" Someone cried. I was getting too tipsy, even after just four tankards of ale (much to Fili and Kili's amusement) to notice, though, as the numbers were counted down, and we tipped our tankards' contents, drenching our chests with the excess. Every beard was wet, too. I was thankful I didn't have one, though. It would be uncomfortable, I'd imagine.

Waittaminute...we didn't hit one...we skipped it. Ah, well! Doesn't matter!

Nori was the first to belch, to raucous cheers, followed closely by Ori. Then, surprisingly, I was next. It felt...good to release that pressure building up. Everyone was cheering, and suddenly, I was wondering why I never engaged in this sport. Meh.

"I knew ya had it in ya!" Bofur cried, and I felt an odd swell of pride.

=#=#=#=#=

Dishes, after a large Dwarvish-style meal especially, were not fun.

Not at all. We had to wipe down the walls of the dining area and clean the floor before even thinking about clearing the table.

Correction; I wiped the walls, and was about to start on the floor, when Fili and Kili joined me, and did the entirety of the floor while I went to wash dishes. Honestly, sometimes I can forget how immature and childish the pair of them can be (I said, being somewhat hypocritical). However, working helped to steady my body and clear my mind, though I was lucky enough to have most likely escaped without having to look forward to a harsh hangover tomorrow.

Nori came in, and was trying to clean his cup with a doily, of all things!

"Really, Nori?" I chuckled, as Mr. Baggins came walking up behind him.

"Excuse me, that is a doily, not a dishcloth!" He cried indignantly, snatching it away from the now confused Dwarf. Bofur, who was standing nearby, shrugged.

"But it's full of holes!" Mr. Baggins growled.

"It's supposed to look like that." He explained without an ounce of patience. "It's crochet."

"And what a wonderful game it is, too." Bofur replied cheerily. "If you've got the balls for it!" I face-palmed.

Seriously?! I then started laughing, and shrugged, and went back to scrubbing the pots and pans. Mr. Baggins looked positively enraged by my uncle's Company's ignorance, much to my personal amusement.

"Bebother and confusicate these Dwarves!" He muttered, not bothering to do so under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. I chuckled. Gandalf, who had been on approach, seemed to be in a cheery mode.

"My dear Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?" He asked upon noticing the Hobbit's foul mood.

Oh. That's his first name! Bilbo! Interesting. Bilbo's face (heh-heh. I know his name now) was anything less than amused.

"'What's the matter'?!" Bilbo repeated, and followed Gandalf through the hall. "I'm surrounded by Dwarves." He complained. "What are they doing here?!" He demanded. It was then that I noticed Bofur and Nori, wrestling over a string of sausages. Taking out a knife, I quickly sliced the last one off, causing Bofur, who had been clutching the end, to stumble back. He had dropped the sausage, and I quickly picked it up, popping it into my mouth. Bofur tried again, this time earning Nori's attention, and they wrestled themselves into the next room.

"Oh, they're quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them." Gandalf replied smoothly as this all played out. Bilbo (Huh, I going have to get used to calling him that now...) scoffed.

"I don't want to get used to them!" I narrowed my eyes, now scrubbing this stupid grill plate with a lot more force than was truly necessary. After that, I lost the conversation. But really, it couldn't have been cheering. Bilbo's attitude was positively over-the-top.

Okay...maybe not quite to that point...but still...

If this is what Bilbo Baggins thinks of us...it's probably better he doesn't come along.

=#=#=#=#=

"...what should I do with my plate?" Ori asked Bilbo, quite politely. I smirked. I felt smug for knowing about a cleaning tecnique, and someone else didn't.

"Kili! We're going to start clearing the table now!" I called, and Kili came running from the other room, still smoking pipe still clutched in his hand. Fili walked up, managing not to burst out laughing as me and Kili got into position. I was last in line, in charge of piling the clean plates, cups, and mugs together.

"Here ya go, Ori. Give it to me." Fili noted, and took the plate in his hands. He immediately tossed it to Kili, and he tossed to the next Dwarf, Bifur. He also caught the next plate, both of which were stacked before tossing it to me, which made catching both undamaged a little harder. But I managed. I heard the familiar clinking of silverware, and knew that the rest of the Company were cleaning the forks and knives.

"Excuse me!" Bilbo cried, reaching out to catch the now flying plate just as Kili caught and tossed it to Bifur. "That's my mother's West Farthing pottery! It's over a hundred years old!" He squeaked (literally), voice growing more insistently pleading as he went on. Kili, unfazed, kicked a mug up, watching it flip around midair before he caught it and threw it. Not to be outdone, Fili bounced a bowl of his elbows before tossing it to our brother. Bilbo then ran up to the table, and watched in horror as the knives and forks were swiped against each other.

"An-and c-can you not do that?!" He demanded with only forced politeness. "You'll blunt them!" He complained. Unfazed, Bofur simply inclined his head slightly.

"Ooh...did you hear that, lads?" He asked. "He says we'll 'blunt the knives'." I chuckled, and placed my hand on his shoulder as the beat intensified.

"Just watch this, Bilbo." I muttered, before scampering back to my position. Just as Kili started the song.

"Blunt the knives, Bend the forks!" His voice was deep at first, then mellowed out as he went on. Then, Fili joined him, and the song got more intense.

"Smash the bottles and burn the corks!" As we grew more fancy with the chucking, the Company joined in the song. I could hardly sing right due to laughing so hard at poor Bilbo's face. He looked absolutely mortified, shocked, and horrified at what he thought was the demise of his beloved pottery.

"Chip the glasses and crack the plates! That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" We turned the beat of the song into the tune of whizzing plates and flying mugs, each trying to outdo the other with fancy twirls and spinning without breaking either the plate or the tune. It was all good fun. "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!" By now, Nori was kicking cups and plates, too. We loaded poor Ori up, and sent him over to the table, as I was now caught up in some other part of the line. "Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl! Pound them up with a thumping pole! And, when you're finished, if any are whole..." Bilbo had given up trying to catch the bowls and mugs, resigned to merely watching in terror. We were trying to sing through our laughter, with fairly admirable results. "Send them down the hall to roll! That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" With the last words sung, we had the last of the dishes stacked neatly on the table. Bilbo came shoving through the crowd of dwarves, and was extremely surprised to find not one item damaged in the least, clean and stacked neatly. We rather enjoyed the bewilderment on his poor face, and applauded it loudly.

"Told ya you'd like it!" I cheered, leaning on Bilbo's shoulder.

"Like is not the right word." Bilbo growled, pushing my arm off his shoulder, as Gandalf motioned toward the unharmed dishes, laughing.

"Bilbo..." Gandalf admonished even as he struggled to contain his laughter, and if he was going to add anything, he never had the chance, because there was a sudden trio of fierce, loud and sharp knocks on the door. That could only mean that...my uncle's finally arrived.

Unfortunately, it killed the mood, grim faces settling in all too soon. Poor Bilbo was left in the dark as to who could possibly be knocking now, the only clue given was Gandalf's muttering.

"He's here." Bilbo, whose shoulder I was still leaning on, looked over at me.

"Who's here?" I must've had a grim face, too, cus Bilbo didn't look reassured. Then, I smirked slightly.

"My uncle." I replied, and walked off with the others to greet Uncle Thorin. Bilbo was not far behind, muttering under his breath.

=#=#=#=#=

Sure enough, the door was swung open to reveal none other than Thorin. He stepped inside, face slightly amused.

"Gandalf." He greeted, stepping over the threshold. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way." He noted. "Twice." He added, unclasping his cloak. "I wouldn't have found it at all, had it not been for that mark on the door." Then, Thorin seemed to notice me, Fili, and Kili's approach, as well as everyone else's. He smiled faintly at us as we came a little closer. Bilbo, looking mightily confused, stepped forward.

"Mark? There's no mark on that door! It was painted a week ago!" Gandalf looked slightly guilty, yet fairly amused as he shut the door, and nodded.

"There is a mark. I put it there myself." He then looked to Thorin, who passed his cloak to Kili and was eying the Hobbit, as if summing him up. Studying him. He always does that to new people, but I wish he would at least tone it down for this poor Hobbit. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our Company, Thorin Oakenshield." Bilbo gulped, and stepped forward. Thorin still had a smirk on his face as he took another step toward the hobbit.

"So...this is the Hobbit." He noted dryly. Thorin had that look about him; the one that meant whomever the gaze was directed at would promptly be interrogated. I sighed. "Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?" He asked, circling Bilbo, still assessing him. Bilbo looked confused, turning his head to keep an eye on my uncle.

"Pardon me?" Thorin, however, simply continued down his list of questions.

"Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?" Bilbo didn't look any less confused. Then, he got this frankly amusing smirk to his face. It nearly got me chuckling.

"Well...I have some skill at conkers, if you must know." Bilbo admitted, with a touch of shyness, I do believe. I smirked. Oh, boy...fuel for the fire, Bilbo...fuel for the fire... "But I fail to see why that's...relevant." He added. Thorin's smirk deepened, and his arms still lay crossly smugly over his chest. This was getting good.

"Thought as much." Thorin noted dryly. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." I chuckled, joined soon by everyone, thankfully. I walked up to Bilbo as everyone went to talk to Thorin in the dining room. I would join them in a moment, though. I again leaned on his shoulder.

"Sorry about that." I apologized honestly. "He does that to new people." Bilbo looked at me incredulously.

"You mean he interrogates people?" He said, huffing indignantly. He did this little wriggle with his nose through his frown that nearly had me laughing. Then, realization dawned. "That's your Uncle?!" he cried. I laughed.

"Yep. The devil when he wants to be, but he means well." I noted, and walked off. Not for too long, though, before turning back to Bilbo. "You coming?"

=#=#=#=#=

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" Balin asked, leaning forward eagerly. "Did they all come?" Thorin nodded once, face grim-set and serious. That look meant bad news.

"Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms." Thorin replied simply. He hadn't really looked at the Company properly, devouring soup with gusto. We all cheered. All seven dwarf kingdoms, meeting together! What a sight that must've been. Dwalin was next to pose a question.

"And what did the Dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?" He asked eagerly. Thorin looked grimmer still, and refused to speak for a few moments. Then, he took a glance at all of us.

"They will not come."

"What?" I muttered. Everyone groaned and hung their heads. Without the support of the Armies of the Iron Hills...this quest was practically doomed. There was no way in Mahal that we, thirteen ragtag, haggard dwarves could ever go toe to toe with Smaug, much less kill the beast. Even if he hasn't been seen in around sixty years...no way. Not even with a burglar to sneak in and assess him before we enter the Mountain.

Apparently, everyone else was thinking the same thing. We all shared the same somber look.

"They say this quest is ours, and ours alone." Thorin continued, voice betraying the defeat he felt. As Thorin took a large swig of ale, Bilbo appeared like magic behind the grey-robed wizard, who was sitting to Thorin's right.

"You're going...on a quest?" He asked softly, as if afraid to kindle any wrath against him. His words reminded me of how little Bilbo really knew about our business here. I mean, I had falsely assumed that Gandalf had fully informed Bilbo of his role in all this...

But apparently not...

Gandalf started slightly at Bilbo's appearance, but recovered composure almost instantly. "Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light." Gandalf half-asked, half ordered Bilbo, and the Hobbit went away for a few mere moments. As Bilbo left, Gandalf produced a map from somewhere deep in his robes, I think, and laid it flat against the table. Almost as if it were planned, once the map was smoothed out, Bilbo was back with another candle.

"Far to the east," He said to no one in particular, (but maybe to Bilbo? (I dunno)), "over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single, solitary peak." He said, and pointed toward the mountain in question. It was indeed, 'a single, solitary peak', with no ranges within at least twenty-five miles. Or least, that's what it looked like. I couldn't really tell. Distances on maps are always confusing.

"The lonely mountain." Bilbo read aloud, appearing suddenly interested in this affair, the candle still grasped in his hand. I grinned and winked at Bilbo.

"That's where we're going!" I cheered, to a few murmured agreements. Gloin then spoke up.

"Aye, Oin had read the portents, and the portents say...it is time!" Dori rolled his eyes; he had little faith in portents and other 'superstitious' or 'unnatural nonsense'. Oin then spoke.

"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." Once again, Bilbo appeared silently and had an adorably curious look on his face.

"Uh...what beast?" He asked. I chuckled, opening my mouth to reply, but Bofur beat me to it.

"That would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible: Chiefest and Greatest calamity of our age." Bofur said ominously. I rolled my eyes. Leave it to Bofur to over-exaggerate our problems. Bilbo took Bofur at his word. His eyes went wide, and he gulped nervously. Taking that as some kind of cue, Bofur smirked and continued. "Airborne fire-breather. Teeth like razors. Claws like meat hooks." Bilbo looked more and more queasy, yet Bofur wasn't quite done. "Extremely fond of precious metals." Bilbo then cut Bofur off, having heard enough.

"Yes, I know what a dragon is!" He cried, fiddling with his fingers. I smirked. Really? He does, does he? If I didn't know better, I would've thought that, if it wasn't in the Shire, Hobbits didn't know about it, unless it was something that directly affected said Hobbits. Ori then stood fiercely, eyes glinting with determination.

"I'm not afraid!" He cried, and we all turned to him. "I'm up for it! I'll give him a taste of Dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!" He shouted. I suspected he was really just trying to work his own courage up, but I let him have his moment. Nori applauded his little brother's speech, but Dori, sitting right next to Ori, pulled him down while ordering him to do so, admonishing him with a severe glare. I was just glad that Fili and Kili weren't that protective any more. They were like Dori (or worse, depending on the situation) when we were younger, but they soon realized (after several bruises, split lips, and bloody noses from brawling when I got really mad) that I could take care of myself.

Bringing things back to the matter at hand, Balin leaned his arms against the table in a very suddenly serious manner.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us." He noted grimly. "But we number just thirteen. And not thirteen of the best, nor brightest." I then set my jaw firmly. I knew we weren't the best in our race, strictly peaking, but...this wasn't that hopeless.

Right? We have each other's backs, we always watch out for one another. We would die for one another, without question. Wasn't that enough?

"Here!" Nori demanded. "Who are you calling 'dim'?"

"Yeah!" I cried, eyes narrowed in disapproval. General hubbub ruled for a moment or two, until Fili banged his fist against the table meaningfully.

"We may be few in number, but we're fighters!" He cried, and banged his hand against the table again. "To the last Dwarf!" He shouted, and the gloomy mode was forgotten, drowned out in cheers of agreement. Excited, Kili leaned against the table.

"And you forget we have a Wizard in our Company!" Kili noted. "Gandalf'll have killed hundreds of Dragons in his time!" He added, motioning to the Wizard in question, who shied back slightly.

"Oh, well, no. I wouldn't say-"

Dori piped up then, interrupting Gandalf. "Well, how many, then?" He asked eagerly. Gandalf looked toward him, blinking in mild surprise.

"W-what?"

"How many Dragons have you killed?" Dori repeated, nodding. Gandalf looked embarrassed, refusing to release the smoke he had in his mouth, coughing and spluttering slightly.

"Go one, then." Dori pressed, as Gandalf's coughing got more severe. I bit my lip, worrying slightly for him. "Give us a number!" I then grew frustrated at the pressing little Dwarf, and stood a little too harshly.

"Shut up! Let him talk!" I growled, not knowing why I was this angry. Dori flinched back slightly, as Dwarves rose to either Gandalf's or Dori's defense. Consternation reigned for a moment.

Only me and Bilbo tried to calm the Dwarves down. But only Thorin could actually accomplish it. He shouted out for silence in Khuzdul. And everyone obeyed. Uncle Thorin still stood, and we knew he had something to say. "If we have read these signs, do you not think that others will have read them, too?" He noted rhetorically. "Rumor's have begun to spread. The Dragon, Smuag, has not been seen in sixty years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lays unprotected." Uncle Thorin was raising excellent points, while simultaneously reminding us of why we were gathered here in the first place. "Do we sit back, while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?!" He roared, shaking his fist to raise emphasis, and we all applauded, cheering Uncle's speech. Then Balin spoke up, the voice of reason and sense among us, though it felt like a wet blanket on our previous high spirits.

"You forget: the front Gate is sealed. There is no way into the Mountain." With Balin talking, Uncle sat back down. Gandalf got a mysteriously smug smirk to his face, leaning forward slightly over the table.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true." He said, and then he spun a Dwarvish metal key into view between his fingers. My breath caught as I got a better look at the key. It was the one that Thrain, my grandfather, had held onto that key for many, many, many years...until he went missing. After the Battle for Moria, he disappeared and was never seen again. A decidedly somber mood fell over the Company as we sat in stunned silence. Uncle looked like he was watching a ghost.

"How came you by this?" he breathed, eyes never leaving the metal key Gandalf held. Bilbo looked on in confusion. Someone should tell him all about us at some point.

"It was given to me by your father." Gandalf replied. "By Thrain. For safekeeping" I gulped. Grandad was always a touchy subject for Thorin. The air grew tense and apprehensive as the seconds ticked slowly by. "It is yours now..." Gandalf added, and Thorin reached out dazedly and took it in his hand. Fili then looked pensive.

"If there is a key..." he mused, "There must be a door." I rolled my eyes.

"No, Fi. That key is just decoration." I replied snarkily. Gandalf then nodded (to which statement, I don't know) and pointed with the end of his pipe toward the series of runes on the map.

"These runes speak of a hidden passageway to the Lower Halls." Gandalf admitted. Kili then clapped his brother on the back, looking excited.

"There's another way in." I scoffed.

"No! Really? Never would've guessed..." I said, barely holding my laughter back. Kili frowned at me. Gandalf acted as if I hadn't said anything.

"Well, if we could find it, but Dwarf doors are invisible when closed." He sighed heavily, then pointed at the map on the table. "The answer lays hidden somewhere in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it. But..." He added when we started groaning. "There are others in Middle-Earth who can." Gandalf's face then became more serious than I can recall seeing him. "The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage." Here, he glanced at Bilbo, who held his gaze with a touch of confusion, and trepidation. "But if we are careful, and clever, I believe that it can be done." I got the feeling 'we' meant Bilbo. I bit my lip. Bilbo was woefully unprepared for this quest. He couldn't fight (yet. I made a note to show him at some point), he would probably hold us back until he got used to being outdoors and riding or walking all day. Ori then piped up as several things clicked in his head.

"That's why we need a burglar!" I opened my mouth as I rolled my eyes to make some sassy remark, but Dwalin, who was sitting next to me, elbowed me in the ribs. He glared at me, and I clamped my mouth shut. Bilbo then leaned over the map, eying it with an almost knowing gaze. Almost.

"Hmm. And a good one, too. An expert, I'd imagine." I pinched the bridge of my nose, groaning. This guy didn't know when not to say something. Gloin leaned forward eagerly.

"And are you?" He asked, slightly impatiently. Bilbo then snapped his head up to gaze at Gloin politely.

"Am I what?" Oin leaned his head toward the unfortunate Hobbit, twisting his trumpet toward the Half-Ling as well.

"He said he's an expert." I instantly disagreed, and some Dwarves backed me up. Any talk was soon negated as Bilbo added his own rebuttal to Oin's words.

"Me? No. No, no, no. I'm not a burglar." I sniffed. Isn't that true... "I've never stolen a thing in my life." I agreed with him. He did not have the look and behavior of a thief. He looked more like a man who spends his days quietly and uneventfully. Balin sniffed.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Master Baggins. He's hardly burglar material." Bilbo nodded toward the senior Dwarf gratefully.

"Nope."

Dwalin, who was now sending a grim set expression toward Bilbo, added his two cents. "Aye, the Wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves." I let my face droop to a deadpanned expression.

"Now, Dwalin..." I started, only to be cut off by Kili.

"He's just fine!" He cried, waving off any doubts. I shrugged in agreement.

"Don't see why he can't go." The effect was nearly instant; everyone was up, giving their opinions, and shouting to be heard above one another. Suddenly, the air grew icy, and the room darkened. I shivered, and was about to launch an argument about why I thought Bilbo would, indeed, be just fine out there in the World when Gandalf's voice rose above everyone's.

"Enough!" He cried. All jaws clamped shut. All eyes turned a fearful and frightened gaze upon Gandalf, who was most certainly the source of the darkness and chilled air. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!" No one dared speak, breaking whatever spell Gandalf had cast over us. The darkened cold retreated back, and we were left silenced in the suddenly tense atmosphere. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most, if they choose." Everyone shifted, lost in our private thoughts. I, for one, thought that Bilbo could, and would, be perfectly fine on the trail. I was even happier to know that Gandalf backed me up. "And, while the Dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of a Hobbit is all but unknown to him. Which gives us a distinct advantage." Gandalf then focused on Uncle Thorin individually. "You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this Company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins." Thorin was pensive, and Bilbo was frightened as Gandalf continued speaking. "There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest." Bilbo qualmed slightly as all eyes fixed on him. I noted that everyone still seemed too scared to speak after...whatever it was that Gandalf had done earlier. "And he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know." I flinched subtly as Gandalf's voice took a slightly stern tone, fearful lest that queer icy darkness creep back into the room. There was something about it...I didn't like. "Including himself." Any fear of ire and pitch-black ice were banished by the much softer tone the Wizard took. Bilbo gave Gandalf a somewhat frightened and inquisitive stare. "You must trust me on this." Gandalf half-begged, half-pleaded with Thorin, leaning forward slightly. Uncle Thorin remained stony and silent for a few moments before giving his friend the barest of smirks.

"Very well. We'll do it your way." Thorin finally grumbled, then turned toward Balin. Bilbo, however, seemed ready to protest.

"No, no." He begged, even as Thorin continued.

"Give him the contract."

"No, please." Bilbo pleaded as Balin reached into his shirt, and pulled out the official Contract for Hire, standing and handing it to Thorin. Bilbo was looking more and more queasy as this was being done.

"We're in. We're off." Bofur cheered giddily.

"It's just the usual. Summary of out of pocket expenses, time required, remuneration," Balin said, and held out the contract, waiting for Thorin to take it and hand it to Bilbo. "funeral arrangements. So forth." Thorin finally glanced up and took the document, giving it swiftly to Bilbo, who blanched.

"F-funeral arrangements?" He squeaked, stumbling back as the contract slammed into his chest. Gandalf gave Bilbo an amused, yet concerned look. Bilbo tentatively opened the document. He then gave a sigh as the full paper nearly reached the floor. Thorin leaned over to the Grey Wizard, whispering conspiratorially.

"I cannot guarantee his safety."

"Understood."

"Nor will I be responsible for his fate." Gandalf tensed slightly, looking pensive.

"Agreed." He finally said. I gulped. How could we ask Bilbo to come with us, follow us into unknown and probably fatal dangers? How? We have no right to endanger this poor little Hobbit. None at all, especially after we stole his food and barged into his home. To distract myself, I moved slightly into a better position to hear Bilbo reading out the contract in a voice barely above a whisper.

"'Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one-fourteenth of total profit, if any.'" Oh. Wait...that's what it says? I do believe Bilbo here is the only one, besides Thorin, who has actually read this stupid contract. He then gave off a little hum. "Seems fair." He said, nodding. Gandalf gave a little chuckle. "'Present Company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, including but not limited to lacerations.'" He said. Balin and Gandalf then got a confused look about them. Was that not what the contract says? "Evisceration?" Bilbo guessed again, unfolding another part of the contract to get a better view. "Incineration?" He asked incredulously, looking almost ready to puke. Bofur turned to face him, smirking.

"Oh, aye. He'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye." Bilbo let his arms fall. Blinking and looking around, looking queasy. He whimpered slightly, swaying a little. Balin leaned forward, eying Bilbo with a slightly concerned gaze.

"You all right, laddie?" He asked, sounding slightly amused. Bilbo then doubled over, huffing.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." he gave off several more puffs of air. "Feel a bit faint."

"So we might want to leave him alone." I said, glaring at Bofur, who didn't see it as he stood and moved to lean against the passageway.

"Think furnace with wings." Bofur went on.

"Bofur! Enough!" I cried. Bilbo's huffing and panting grew fiercer.

"Air. I-I-I need air." He complained. He then felt his face and chest with his hand, the swaying growing. Bofur was still grinning that wold grin of his.

"Flash of light, searing pain, then: POOF! Yer nothing more then a pile of ash!" Bilbo, who looked like a wraith now, swayed for a few minutes. He looked like he was contemplating whether or not he could remain standing. Or conscious.

"Stop, Bofur!" I cried, smacking him as I stood to help Bilbo.

"Hmm." Bilbo groaned, staring ahead blankly. For a moment, it looked like he would be fine, and no fainting would occur. "Nope!" He cried, before collapsing against the floor, laying still and unmoving. Gandalf moved to assist him.

"Oh, very helpful, Bofur." He growled, but I was already heaving him up, to the mutters and chuckling of the other Dwarves. I didn't care at all as I hauled the poor Hobbit off, and plopped him down in the biggest armchair I could find in his living room.

"Dori!" I called. "Bring some of that Chamomile tea!" I yelled, and heard a small commotion at the table, then all was still as I checked Bilbo's pulse. It was steady. He had merely let it all go to his head. He had probably buckled his knees, too. Not a good mix. Soon, Dori appeared, clutching a steaming mug in his hands. I took it, and set it down near Bilbo's slumped form, and left for some relaxing tobacco smoking by firelight. After a good meal, and plenty of ale, this was the perfect way to round out the day.

And something told me it wasn't over just yet.

Y'ALL DON'T KNOW HOW TEMPTING IT IS TO MAKE THIS A BIT LONGER, BUT THEN I DECIDED THAT IT WOULD BE SHOVING TOO MUCH STORY AT YOU LOVELY READERS AT ONCE.

AND THAT'S SOMETHING I AM TRYING VERY HARD TO AVOID, IF AT ALL POSSIBLE.