There was a knocking on my door about ten minutes after I closed it. In that time I had already put on brown pants and a gray shirt, taken off my hat, and was knee deep in a book.

I got up and lifted up the little mail slot in the door. The only thing that I used it for was as a sort of sentry.

"Passwo–… Um, I mean, who is it?" I asked when I saw billowing gray robes and not Bilbo's patchwork one.

"A very old friend that I do believe your master, Bilbo, did not want you to see today."

I knew that voice anywhere, to say the least.

I dropped the mail slot, grabbed my hat and put it on, and opened the door.

"Gandalf?" I asked breathlessly.

"Last time I checked, that name still belongs to me," he answered, his beard shaking with laughter. He looked me up and down. "Well, you certainly have grown, my dear Helena–"

I hugged him without question, not being able to wait any longer.

"You've certainly gotten stronger, too," he laughed. He bent down to look at me. "Except for maybe your appearance, you haven't changed in the slightest."

"I certainly hope not," I fired back. "It's been long, Gandalf, much too long."

"I do believe that we can both agree on that, dear Helena," he smiled, putting his hand on my shoulder. "In that case, whatever are you doing in your room of all places?" Gandalf asked me worriedly.

"Reading, mostly. I had to replace my bow string," I answered, not exactly lying. "Why? Is something happening that I should know of?" I stood on my tiptoes, as if it would help my sight. "Besides the four dwarves in Bilbo's house?" I added.

"How about the eight more that have arrived?" he asked me.

I then had a coughing fit. "There––are––more?"

"Yes… and they have gotten quite comfortable–" If Gandalf had said anything more, I didn't hear it, as I then half-ran past him, down the hallway, and into the dining room, just in time to be present for an ale chugging contest, followed by a round of burps. I was appalled to say the least. Moments later, the now twelve dwarves slowly began to file out of the dining room, either looking for more food or deciding to wander around the hobbit-hole a bit. I ducked out behind a corner before any of them could see me.

I was wrong.

"The way you talked to me earlier was not exactly expected."

I jumped at the sound of Kili's voice. "Excuse me?" I asked breathlessly and shyly. He stood by me, a small smug smile on his face and a pipe in his hand.

"I said, the way you talked to me earlier was not exactly expected," he repeated.

"Why?" I asked. "Do dwarves back home talk to you all delicately because you're a prince?"

"In comparison to you, yes," he answered. "But not unless they want something."

"Fair point," I admitted. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" I then ducked out towards one of the many closets of Bag End.

"Why do you keep doing that?" he asked, walking along side me.

"Why do I keep doing what?" I asked him as I grabbed a couple of rags and a bucket.

"Why do you keep walking away from me like you'd rather be somewhere else?" he explained. "You don't even know me and you already don't want to be near me."

"Alright," I sighed as I walked towards the kitchen, half-expecting Kili to follow me, which he did. "I don't know about you, but I've had a long day, and I'm just know starting to get a migraine."

"Well, up until we got here, I've been trekking across Middle Earth, and so I fail to see how you're day could be any worse," he replied.

"Try being proposed to. For the fifth time in a year. By the same blockheaded twit," I retorted.

"So, I'm guessing no means no with you, then? I'll add that to the list of things that I know about you. And by the way, the list is rather short."

In the time it took for us to exchange those sentences, I had already filled the bucket with water and we were standing in the foyer, where muddy boot-prints were displayed on the floorboards.

I sighed as I went down to my hands and knees, soaked a rag in the water, and rang it out. "Okay, then," I said as I started scrubbing the floor. "Five facts about Helena Paige: #1, I shot that bear earlier today."

Kili was now on his knees to look at me at eyelevel.

"#2, my name is Helena Paige."

"I figured," he chuckled as he reached for a rag.

"#3, I'm Mister Baggins's maid, therefore you don't have to help me," I stopped him by grabbing his hand. I then went back to work. "#4, I have been Mister Baggins's maid for… about fifteen years now. And #5, I know that the dwarf I am talking to right now is a prince, so I'd like it if you wouldn't tell anybody about the bear so that I am less likely to be questioned about it."

"Those are terrible facts," Kili said bluntly. "All I got out of that was your name, that you're a maid, you shoot, and you don't like to be questioned."

"That's about all that you need to know," I retorted. "I'd like to see you have better ones."

"You're on," he agreed as he leaned against the wall, folding one leg over the other. I rolled my eyes and kept scrubbing. "#1, my name is Kili."

"Yep, real original," I added.

"#2, I'm an archer, too. #3, I have an older brother named Fili. And #4, I recognize the fact that I am a prince, but that's not going to stop me from helping you," he finished as he grabbed a washcloth and soaked it before I could stop him.

"And, obviously, you can't count," I mumbled.

"Oh, no, I'm not finished yet," he waved a finger at me.

"You're impossible."

"Possibly."

"Come on, what's number five?"

"#5, I know that you're no fun."

My eyes were wide as my head shot up, my thoughts whirling. Did I screw up this fast? What is wrong with me? Is he going to be like the others? I cleared my throat instead of speaking my mind. "Elaborate."

"You're all work and no play," Kili explained to me. "Someone who is all work would be doing what you're doing right now. While someone who is all play would be singing and eating right about now."

Having finished cleaning, I stood up and grabbed the rag from his hands. "For the record, I can sing, and I would be eating right now if you all didn't just destroy the pantry, and also," I glared at him, "I am fun."

"No," he said following me. "See, fun isn't something that you say that you are, it's something you prove that you are."

"How?" I asked, turning around to look at him with my hands on my hips, just completely done with him and this conversation.

"Like… this," he answered as he caught a plate that was hurling through the air and tossed it through the nearest doorway, through which another dwarf caught and stacked it. When I turned and looked, I saw more dishes coming towards me. I ducked and screamed, covering my head with my hands.

I then heard Bilbo yell, "E–excuse me! That's my mother's West-Farthing Pottery! It's over a hundred years old!"

Bilbo! I wanted to yell. Where are you when I need you?

Then there was a rhythmic tapping and clanking of silverware on the table.

"And can you not do that? You'll blunt them," Bilbo added.

"Ooooh! You hear that, lads?" a dwarf with some sort of ear hat and mustache called out. "He says we'll blunt the knives!"

When I finally stood back up, dishes were being tossed across the hobbit-hole, and when I looked behind me… Kili was singing.

Blunt the knives, bend the forks!

Then, on the opposite side of me, the dwarf who I knew was Fili continued the song.

Smash the bottles, and burn the corks!

Then everyone together, including me, sang,

Chip the glasses, and crack the plates!

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!

I don't particularly know what it was that made me sing then. I'm not sure if I was trying to prove to Kili that I could have fun. Or if I was just trying to go with it, just like everyone else seemed to be doing. But I know that something about the way Bilbo was running around worriedly, and how catchy the song was–some dwarves even pulled out and started playing their own personal instruments–made me just start laughing, since I didn't know the words. I'm also not a hundred percent sure how all of the dwarves knew the words to the song, as I'm pretty sure that it was made up on the spot.

By the time Bilbo had ran into the kitchen, seeing that the dishes were not broken and shattered as the song made him think, my stomach hurt from the laughter and tears were gathering in my eyes. I ended up being the last one to stop laughing when there was a knock at the door, not a ring of the doorbell.

"He is here…" Gandalf announced ominously from where he sat with his pipe half-in half-out of his mouth. He turned to me. "Dear Helena, do please get some food for our last guest, and something to drink, too," he said as he got up to go to the door.

I nodded, maid-sense taking over as I went to the stove, where somebody had made some soup in a pot. By the time I had ladled a good bowl full of soup and set it on the dining room table, all of the dwarves were out of the kitchen and standing in the foyer. I ignored the new deep voice as I drew another tankard of ale, filling it to the brim just like I did for the others. The barrel keg was actually almost empty, so I had to sneak into where I knew Bilbo had a smaller emergency barrel of bear, the location of which I will not tell you.

By the time I walked back to the dining room, the new guest was sitting at the head of the table and everyone else was at their own respective seating. Awkwardly, I placed the tankard on the table and edged backwards to the corner. The new guest nodded in silent response, not seeming to be one for conversation, or simply just figuring that I was a maid and acted the way any normal person would to a maid.

"Helena!" Bilbo whispered to me. "I thought you were in your room!"

"Yes, she was," Gandalf replied for me from the corner. "Then I went and got her. I figured that Bag End had seen better days, and, of course, I'm sure she'd ring your neck for not getting her out here for the meeting."

"What meeting?" Bilbo quickly asked.

"All in good time," he assured us. "Let Thorin eat, he's very tired."

I bowed my head as I ducked out to the kitchen, needing to put the dishes away and clean them up, should they need it. They were actually rather spotless after that little song the dwarves sang. Something told me that there would be no singing now that that Thorin was there.

He was a bit peculiar. When the conversation resumed, I could easily distinguish his voice among the rest, as I could with Kili's, since I'd had a rather frustrating conversation with him moments earlier, and was well accustomed to how it sounded.

Even so, the words were hard to understand from all the way in the kitchen. That is, until I heard Bilbo's voice quite clearly. "You're going on a quest?"

Then my lazy eavesdropping became intent listening. I silently tiptoed back to the archway of the dining room, just as Gandalf asked for more light. Seconds later, Bilbo was nudging past me with a candle in hand, his gaze mirroring mine. On the table was a hand-drawn map with runes written all across it.

"The Lonely Mountain," Bilbo read what was written in the common-tongue after Gandalf gave a brief description of the mountain.

"Aye," a redheaded dwarf said from his seat. "Oin has read the portents, and the portents say, it is time."

I ended up drifting off a bit, gazing at the drawing of a large pointy mountain with a dragon overtop of it, taking in every detail given on it. I didn't even hear any of the dwarves start to argue amongst themselves over whether Bilbo was a suitable burglar.

No; I didn't pay attention to anything being said until Gandalf stood up, a shadow surrounding him, and saying in a the darkest voice I'd ever heard him use, "Enough! If I say that Bilbo Baggins and Helena Paige are burglars, then burglars they are!" Everyone was stunned in their seats. Then the shadow diminished as Gandalf continued, much calmer than before, "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet, in fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And, while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of two hobbits is all but unknown to him." He then sat down and said to Thorin, "You must trust me on this."

"… Two hobbits?" Thorin asked him.

"Oh, yes, of course," Gandalf replied, as if he finally remembered something. "Thorin son of Thrain, this is Helena Paige, maid of Bilbo Baggins," he introduced, gesturing to wide-eyed me. "She is especially good at bow and arrows, I've seen her, and you could always use another healer, which she is."

"Gandalf, I will not have any of my men take extra care to protect a girl in times of peril," Thorin made clear to him. "She will be nothing but a nuisance to us."

"And I don't expect you to. She can take care of herself quite fine, and I have no doubt that she will do her fair share of protecting Mister Baggins," he replied. "I repeat, you must trust on this."

Thorin sighed–or maybe groaned–as he looked at through the corner of his eye. "Fine," he finally answered. "We'll do it your way. Give them the contract," he instructed Balin.

I was barely aware that Balin had given Bilbo the contract, though the words funeral arrangements did poke through the blur. Instead, I was staring with wide green eyes at Gandalf, who had a smug sort of smile on his face. He then waved his pipe, as if to tell me to go look at the contract I would soon be signing. I quickly turned around just as Bilbo turned from the contract to the dwarves, having just read the word incineration.

"Oh, aye," the dwarf with the hat agreed. "He'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye."

After bending over a bit, Bilbo quickly announced that he was feeling like he was about to faint.

"Think, furnace with wings," the dwarf comforted him.

"I–I need some air," Bilbo stuttered as I tried to get him to breathe, having known what to do since he'd fainted a total of fourteen times before the dwarves came along.

Then that same dwarf with a hat began talking him through the process of being burned to death by a dragon. "Flash of light, searing pain–and POOF! You're nothing more than a pile of ash!"

Bilbo then stood straight, as if he'd recovered, or like nothing had happened at all. He looked at me, said, "Nope," and fell to the ground.

I swore, loudly, as I grabbed the nearest tankard of ale and splashed the entire thing on Bilbo, it taking him only a moment to wake up, gasping for air. "No, no, no, you stay down," I ordered as I grabbed him from under his arms and started dragging him to his study. I saw Kili get up, probably to help me, but Thorin stopped him. So, I dragged Bilbo to his study by myself, with Gandalf slowly following in my wake.

As soon as I got him into a chair, I scurried back out to get him some tea. I could always brew up some chamomile tea in record time. When I made it back to the study, I stopped before knocking on the doorframe, wanting to have just a single moment of peace that day. I just wanted to breathe, as I found that I wasn't doing enough with the dwarves in the hobbit-hole. Bilbo and Gandalf were having a conversation about the quest at hand, and how Bilbo would not and could not go, despite Gandalf's words.

"I can't just go running off into the blue!" Bilbo argued. "I am a Baggins–– of Bag End!" I was about to ask him what he meant by that when Gandalf spoke.

"You are also a Took," Gandalf added.

Bilbo threw his head back, as if he was officially giving up, not expecting my words what so ever.

"WHAT?" I practically screamed. "Bilbo… You're a Took?" My voice had gotten stuck in my throat, making it jump up an octave.

"Yes, yes, my dear Helena," Gandalf soothed me, acting as though he'd known I was there all along. "Bilbo Baggins does indeed have the blood of a Took on his mother's side. I would have thought you'd known by now, you are 26 years of age, are you not?"

I then turned to Bilbo, my fiercest glare possible set in my eyes. "So… Baggins=good, Took=bad? What was that? What do you have against Took's? What is so wrong with Took's? Why were you so wary of my best friend being a Took? Would you have wanted me to befriend a Baggins? Would you have wanted me to marry a Baggins? Is that why you don't like Willard Goodbody–?"

Then the doorbell rang yet again, followed by a series of urgent pounds on the door. By that time, tears were streaming down my face and my voice was sore. I quickly wiped my cheeks, mumbled, "I'll get it," and walked out of the study.

As I walked to the door, I ignored Kili as he followed me, being mostly focused on steadying my breathing.

"You okay?" he asked me softly.

I stopped, took in a deep breath, and then exhaled it. I turned to him. "Have you been lied to–or just not told about something–and for whatever stupid reason, it just drove you crazy?" I asked him in reply, not caring what I said to him. I've got nothing to lose, I concluded.

"I think we all ha–"

"HELENA! PLEASE, OPEN THE DOOR!"

I slowly turned back around nervously, it taking a moment for everything to come together.

"DJ?" I whispered at first. I then continued to walk to the door, my footsteps slowly becoming faster until I was sprinting down the halls of Bag End. "DJ, what's wrong?" I yelled as I got closer.

When I made it to the door, I opened it as fast as I could. DJ practically fell into the foyer, though she still closed the door before I could even think to.

"DJ, what's that?" I asked, pointing at her left eye. It was all black and a little swollen.

It took her a moment to regain enough breath for her sentence. "Anne Bracegirdle–"

"You're kidding me!" I exclaimed. "Anne Bracegirdle did that? It's been almost a year since she's last punched you!"

"Uh, hello," Fili said a bit awkwardly. When I looked, I found him and Kili standing not too far from us.

"Helena, who's that?" DJ asked me, clearly scared beyond words.

"Um… Dwarves," I answered.

"Oh! Dwarves live in Ered Luin. That's what I was trying to think of!" she exclaimed in reply.

And then she fainted.