"My dear Frodo. You asked me once if I had told you everything there was to know about my adventures. And while I can honestly say I have told you the truth, I may not have told you all of it."
"I am old, Frodo. I'm not the same Hobbit I once was. I think it is time for you to know what really happened. It began long ago in a land far away to the east, the like of which you will not find in the world today."
"There was the city of Dale. Its markets known far and wide, full of the bounties of vine and vale. Peaceful, and prosperous. For this city lay before the doors of the greatest kingdom in Middle Earth: Erebor. Stronghold of Thror, King under the Mountain, mightiest of the dwarf lords."
"Thror ruled with utter surety, never doubting his house would endure, for his line lay secure in the lives of his son and grandson. Ah, Frodo, Erebor; built deep within the mountain itself, the beauty of this fortress city was legend."
"Its wealth lay in the earth, in precious gems hewn from rock, and in great streams of gold, running like rivers through stone. The skill of the dwarves was unequaled, fashioning objects of great beauty of diamond, emerald, ruby, and sapphire. Ever they delved deeper, down into the dark. And that is where they found it. The heart of the mountain. The Arkenstone. Thror named it the King's Jewel. He took it as a sign. A sign that his right to rule was divine. All would pay homage to him, even the great Elvenking, Thranduil."
"But the years of peace of plenty were not to last. Slowly, the days turned sour, and the watchful nights closed in. Thror's love of gold had grown too fierce. A sickness had begun to grow within him; it was a sickness of the mind. And where sickness thrives, bad things will follow."
"The first they heard was a noise like a hurricane coming down from the north. The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in a hot, dry wind. It was a drake from the north. Smaug had come."
"Such wanton death was dealt that day, for this city of men was nothing to Smaug; his eye was set on another prize. For dragons covet gold with a dark and fierce desire."
"Erebor was lost, for a dragon will guard his plunder as long as he lives."
"Thranduil would not risk the lives of his kin against the wrath of the dragon. No help came from the elves that day, or any day since."
"Robbed of their homeland, the dwarves of Erebor wandered the wilderness, a once mighty people brought low. The young dwarf prince took work where he could find it, laboring in the villages of men, but always he remembered the mountain smoke beneath the moon, the trees like torches blazing bright, for he had seen dragon fire in the sky, and his city turned to ash. And he never forgave, and he never forgot."
"That, my dear Frodo, is where I come in. For quite by chance, and the will of a wizard, fate decided I would become part of this tale. It began, well, it began as you might expect."
Chapter Two
An Unexpected Visit
Bilbo Baggins. A perfectly respectable hobbit and general do-gooder in his part of the Shire.
How Bilbo loved his Shire. It was a cozy, safe place where a hobbit could settle down and live a peaceful life. On one cheery afternoon, he sat on the bench that was just in front of his hobbit hole and began smoking from his pipe. The smoke ring he'd blown with closed eyes faded ever so slowly and when a tall stranger walked up to his door, it collapsed into a moth of smoke and blew back in his face. Coughing, he waved a hand in front of his face to rid the air of the smoke while twitching his little nose.
It was then in a moment's time that he noticed the one who had walked up. A man; anold man, was standing before him and leaning on a large walking staff. He was gazing at Bilbo in a most peculiar way, and Bilbo would have been lying if he had said that it didn't make him uncomfortable. Finally, he spoke up, giving the man a nod.
"Good morning." But the reply was the last thing he thought the figure would say.
"What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning. Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?" The grey figure rumbled in a tone that the hobbit couldn't place, but didn't like still. Lost in his bewilderment, he managed to stutter out a reply to the newcomer, his head still reeling from the odd reply he'd received.
"All of them at once, I suppose." Said Bilbo, though he wasn't entirely sure what to say to such an odd traveler.
There was another long pause between them, the old man leaning on his staff and gazing at the hobbit, and the hobbit awkwardly puffing on his pipe and trying to ignore the gaze of the wizard.
Finally, Bilbo broke the silence. "Can I help you?"
"That remains to be seen. I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure." This statement from the wizard made Bilbo nearly shrink back in shock. An adventure? Why on earth would this wanderer think that he wanted an adventure?
"An adventure?"Bilbo started. "Now, I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things." Bilbo shook his head determinedly and stood up from his spot on the bench and went to his mailbox. "Make you late for dinner!" He exclaimed in indignation as he pointed the pipe at the other once and proceeded to check through his mail as if he hadn't been ruffled up by this man's offer of an adventure. "Good morning." He said as a last farewell and made way for the round door to enter his home. That was when the man spoke up, catching the poor hobbit entirely by surprise.
"To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took's son, as if I were selling buttons at the door!"
"Beg your pardon?"
"You've changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins." The man said, making Bilbo lean back in both shock and confusion, wondering how on middle earth the stranger could possibly know his name.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" He asked, and the wizard huffed in annoyance at the hobbit's manners.
"Well, you know my name, although you don't remember that I belong to it. I'm Gandalf! And Gandalf means..." Gandalf paused, suddenly unsure where his sentence was leading. "...me."
"Gandalf..." Bilbo mused, feeling the name roll around in his head before he realized where he knew the name from and just who he was speaking to. "Not Gandalf, the wandering wizard who made such excellent fireworks! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve." He chuckled in victory of figuring out just who this stranger was before setting his eyes back on the wizard. "Well, I had no idea you were still in business."
At this, Gandalf bristled. "And where else should I be?" He asked, a question to which Bilbo Baggins hadn't the answer to. Instead he made a 'ha-hmm' sound and puffed on his pipe again. Before he could say anything, Gandalf spoke. "Well, I'm pleased to find you remember something about me, even if it's only my fireworks." He paused, studying the hobbit one last time and deciding for himself that this was the one he needed.
"Well, that's decided. It will be very good for you, and most amusing for me. I shall tell the others after I find one more..." He stated, though the last bit was more for his ears and not for Bilbo's.
"Inform the who? What?" By that time, Bilbo seemed to catch onto what Gandalf meant and tried to dissuade him from the idea. He was really not the adventuring type. "No. No. No! We do not want any adventures here, thank you!" His voice took on a rather aggressive tone and started back towards his door. "Not today, mm-mm. I suggest you try over the Hill or across the Water." He paused, already in the house and his hand on the door. "Good morning!" He said finally and slammed the door.
All he heard was the noise of Gandalf's staff leaving a rather interesting symbol on his newly painted door. Though, he hadn't a clue to what the noise was then.
During her life, Loraeza had traveled by different means of transportation. She remembered when horses were the fastest way any where, and how she hated riding them. She could recall when the first cars were made, and how she spent a small fortune on buying one before her brother could; oh, that was something she liked to gloat about decades later. Trains were nice, and planes were extremely constricting but she could deal with them. But travelling to a different world through a simple door was probably her least favorite.
Once she opened the door, her legs nearly gave way out from under her and she felt much like a small child, rather than the three thousand year old dragon she actually was. An uneasy, nearly nauseous feeling overtook her, and she found herself leaning against Gandalf to keep from falling flat on her face. She both heard and felt Gandalf chuckle at this, and was tempted to shoot him a rude gesture. But she didn't. After all, who knows what an angry wizard can do to you when you're in a world you almost know nothing about.
"Are you alright, my dear?" He asked, humor laced his voice and she scowled. She nodded nonetheless and groaned quietly as her eyes squeezed shut. It took her a few moments, but she finally pushed herself gently from him and stood at her full height, standing almost two inches taller than Gandalf. But it was then she noticed that she wasn't clothed in the peasant skirt and tank top she'd been wearing when she'd found him on her property.
"Why am I dressed like a person from Medieval Times?" She asked, glancing at Gandalf confusedly. He gave her a small grin, but she could tell that he didn't exactly know what 'Medieval Times' was. If he had any questions, he didn't ask them. Or maybe he was saving them for later when he needed a good conversation starter. Either way, Loraeza didn't really care.
"I thought it best to not confuse the company any more than they already will be. However, I couldn't provide proper weapons seeing as I do not know what you prefer to fight with." He told her as he started to walk ahead down a small dirt path. Knowing she needed to keep up, Loraeza followed. Matching his long strides with her own, she shrugged at his explanation. It did make sense.
"I usually don't use a weapon. I use fire or I go all dragon on someone's ass. Or I just scare them away using both." She told him with a shrug, and he glanced up at her.
"You can control fire, you say?" He asked, suddenly intrigued. The woman could nearly see the cogs turning and clicking inside his mind at that new revelation.
"Yessir, I can. I can't be burned by it, and I can manipulate pretty well." Loraeza told him, then paused. An idea had come to her just then. "Do you think that should be my reason for officially joining the company? I mean... they could probably use someone who won't burn to a crisp if a dragon decides to breathe fire?" She paused. "Do dragons even breathe fire here?"
Gandalf nodded, and she could tell he was pleased. "Very well. But you best leave it to me to explain where you're from." He added as an afterthought. "And the answer to your question would be yes, they do breathe fire." At this, she simply saluted him and fidgeted. She was most definitely not used to the breeches and tunic she was wearing. While they weren't uncomfortable, they were foreign to her. She had grown used to dresses and skirts around the beginning of the twentieth century and unless she had to, she rarely ever wore pants or jeans. But she figured that if she was going to go on an adventure, a skirt might get in the way or she might end up flashing the rest of the company. That wouldn't be good.
They walked on a bit longer with Loraeza asking questions here and there about Middle Earth and Gandalf patiently answering them when she heard a loud shout from behind them. A bit startled, she whipped around to see who had interrupted their peaceful trek. It was odd. They were men, or male in the very least. But they were so… short. She nudged Gandalf and asked another question:
"Are all humans 'round these parts that short?" She asked, and he too stopped walking and turned to see the group of eight who had tried to get the duo's attention. He laughed, realizing who the men were.
"Of course not, my dear. Why, those are some of the dwarves!" He said joyfully. He did something she hadn't expected then. Instead of standing with her to wait for the dwarves to catch up, he turned around and started walking towards them. At first, Loraeza made a small sound f protest at being left on the moonlit path, but she could still see them, and hear what some of them said to him in greeting; not that she really cared to listen in on their 'hello's and 'nice to see you again's. It might have taken them ten minutes but soon enough the eight dwarves and Gandalf made their way to where she was on the road and she was met with both suspicious and curious stares.
Loraeza openly stared back at them. She'd never seen a dwarf before that moment. They hadn't existed in her world. She had come across humans who were dubbed as dwarfs or midgets due to their heights, but these men were something entirely different. Miniature humans, she thought with a smirk.
"Aye, the lass is a bit tall t'be a burglar, isn't she Gandalf?" One of the dwarves in a funny looking hat spoke up with his eyes trained on her. His words made her scoff in an unladylike fashion.
"I'm as much of a lass as Gandalf is a lad, thank you very much." She retorted, and a few of the dwarves chuckled, as well as the wizard.
"No, Bofur. This here is someone else entirely I have invited. This gentleman is the Lady Loraeza..." Gandalf paused with a few blinks before looking to the her. "What did you say your surname was, my dear?" She gave him a withering look.
"I never did." She deadpanned. At this, the wizard gave her a warning look, making her sigh. With a smile, she introduced herself. "Lady Loraeza Darkwynd, at your service." She told them and one by one, they all said their names.
There was Bofur, the one with the hat that had spoken to her first, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, who she thought might have been related to Bofur in some way if she could go by their names, Bombur, Dori, Nori, and a rather adorable looking named Ori who kept looking away from her every time she would fix her eyes on him.
Immediately she noted that they were rowdy. Not in the way that little boys were, nor in a way that was untamed and wild, but in the way where they just didn't care how most perceived them as they traveled on, laughing and carrying on as if they didn't have a care in the world.
And Loraeza found that she liked that a lot about them.
It was Bofur who knocked on the green door. Most of the dwarves were either beside or behind him and Loraeza stood with Gandalf in the far back. The woman couldn't help but chuckle at the muffled 'Oh, no. No! There's nobody home. Go away, and bother somebody else. There's far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is. If this is someone's idea of a joke," The voice paused to laugh cynically. "I can only say, it is in very poor taste-" The little man spoke as he opened the door, only to have eight dwarves topple over one another and to the ground in front of him, much to his surprise. That time, Loraeza openly laughed at the spectacle.
"Gandalf." He breathed, as if that answered every question. It was only when she stooped under the door and walked into the house after Gandalf did Bilbo notice her.
"Who are you?" He asked. Though it came out sounding a tad rude, Loraeza smiled at him and offered him a hand to shake.
"Lady Loraeza, at your service, Mister Baggins." She greeted him politely. The hobbit never had time to reply since he ran off to scold one of the dwarves who was doing something they weren't supposed to, she still muttered a small, 'nice to meet you too'.
The noise of the small burrow was nearly overwhelming with the chatter of the dwarves and Bilbo's pleas for them to stop filling the air. Dori, or, the dwarf who she thought was Dori, walked up to them both with a tray and a smile. She had no clue where he'd gotten the tray from, but assuming from the hobbit's annoyed expression, it was from the kitchen and was taken without permission from their host.
"Excuse me, Mr. Gandalf, Lady Loraeza, can I tempt either one of you with a nice cup of chamomile tea?" He asked sweetly, and Gandalf looked down at him with kind eyes.
"Oh, no thank you, Dori. A little red wine for me, I think." He said, and at the dwarf's questioning, she shrugged and took the tea from him. She could use the calming qualities it brought; her nerves were still on edge from traveling from her world to this one, not to mention the noise there. And to think she thought the Shire peaceful! Unfortunately for her, there was only about a sip in the tea-cup and she frowned at it in a longing way.
When Gandalf went to go count the dwarves, Loraeza caught sight of her host running into the dining room, and followed him between the scurrying dwarves. However, she found that she couldn't keep up with the frantic hobbit in the tight space so she took a seat in a far corner at the table that had been set.
"Hello Miss." A voice to her right spoke, and she snapped out of her thoughtful watch of the ruckus to look over at who had spoken.
An older dwarf with a long white beard smiled kindly at her, making her wonder how she hadn't seen him sitting there too. "Hi there. I don't believe you were one of the ones I met earlier?" She asked, letting the question hang between them.
"No, I suppose I wasn't. After all, I was the second to arrive. Balin, m'lady. At your service." He gave a slight bow of his head, and Loraeza smiled at the gesture. They did like their bowing and formalities, didn't they.
"Loraeza Darkwynd, at yours." She returned the gesture, just to be met with an interested dwarf staring back at her.
"Darkwynd? I can't say I've ever heard that particular family name."
"No, I doubt that you have." She replied coolly. Balin never got the chance to question her any further which was something she was grateful for. He had been interrupted before he could even start when the rest of the bunch joined them at the table, bringing a new meaning to utter chaos.
If anything, it was a good thing that Loraeza didn't find herself hungry at that time. In just a matter of minutes, she learned that if dwarves loved bowing and formalities, they loved food even more. Through the messy feast, there were rolls of bread tossed about and belching competitions going on. It was unorthodox and maybe a little gross, but it was worth it to be amused at the reaction of one particular hobbit.
"Who're you?" A blonde dwarf at the end of the table finally noticed her through a mouth full of food; the braids in his mustache licked together when he saw her sitting there quietly between Gandalf and Balin. Loraeza just shrugged at him and smiled in a secretive way.
"A guest in Bilbo's home, like yourself." She said much to the amusement of Gandalf, who nudged her in the ribs at her comment. Of course, the dwarf had more questions for her, as did most of the rest of them. Gandalf spoke on her behalf before they could come at her with any inquiries they had.
"I do believe that any explanation would best wait until your leader arrives, so there is no confusion among you all." He stated.. Thankfully they took his word for what it was and just dug into their food.
It made her wonder just who they were waiting for.
By the end of dinner she had been asked who she was four times, what she was doing there three times, and if she was Bilbo's wife one time. The latter had been particularly amusing, seeing as Bilbo went red with embarrassment and quickly corrected Dwalin, who had asked.
"Excuse me, that is a doily, not a dishcloth!" The voice of their frazzled host caught her attention and she craned her neck to see what he was fussing over now.
"But it's full of holes!" Bofur rebuked, holding said doily in his hands until Bilbo took it from him in a snippy manner.
"It's supposed to look like that, it's crochet."
"Oh, and a wonderful game it is too, if you got the balls for it."
She laughed a little at this comment, gaining attention of the dwarf who said it before he found the sausage Nori had draped around his shoulders. They played tug-of-war with it for a bit before her attention was grabbed by something else again; a plate whizzing by her head. It had confused her at first as to why there was flying dishes in the home, but when the dwarves started tossing items and breaking out into song, she got the jist of what had started.
"Blunt the knives, bend the forks
Smash the bottles and burn the corks
Chip the glasses and crack the plates
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"
Somewhere in the house one of the merry dwarves had found an instrument, or had brought one along, she realized when she heard a tune strumming up to the lyrics.
"Cut the cloth and tread on the fat
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat
Pour the milk on the pantry floor
Splash the wine on every door-"
It was an amusing little tune, but what was truly amazing was how in sync the dwarves were with each other, all tossing around the items and cleaning them just so as if this was a normal occurrence!
"Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl
Pound them up with a thumping pole
When you've finished, if any are whole
Send them down the hall to roll
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"
Loraeza gave a laugh as Bilbo flew around the corner and to his surprise, not a one of his things were broken. Instead, they were all clean and neatly on the table until he took them back to the pantry where he kept them. That was when Loraeza, Gandalf, Bilbo, and the Company heard it; a knock on the door. In an ominous tone of voice, Gandalf locked eyes with a few of them before looking at her.
"He is here."
A/N;
Welp, there's chapter two! What do you guys think? I know there was a lot of material from the film in this one; most specifically the scene with Bilbo and Gandalf, and the retelling of Erebor's fall. I felt like they needed to be put there to have the chapter come full circle. I would love to know how you guys feel about it so far, though!
By the way, how do you all feel about my end of chapter notes? Would you prefer them to be shorter or are they fine the way they are?
Special thank you to...
Telekinesis Fae Flamingsword and Furionknight for reviewing!
Maybe if I get enough reviews I'll start answering them in these notes.
Also thank you to those who put this story on their follow/favorites lists!
next time on Dragon Tales and Dwarf Quests...
"Dragons don't die that easily, I'm afraid. Even as old as I'm sure Gandalf is. He would have to go looking for them all the time to kill hundreds. At great risk to his own health, too." She said, effectively silencing them and getting a grateful look from the wizard. Unfortunately, she also got a look from Thorin; though it wasn't as kind or warm.
"And what would you know of dragons, Lady Loraeza?" He asked coldly.
"I know more about them than you think, master dwarf. There's a very good reason that I know how I can withstand a dragon's flames."
