DIS GURL IS ON FIYAHHHH!

I actually hate that song.

Anyways, so far I've been uploading a chapter every day which is weird for me but it stops today, sadly D:

I haven't begun writing chapter 5 yet or thinking what would take place in it and I have to concentrate on my school work a little so maybe you'll see results next week xD

Don't forget to go check out Durch-Leiden-Feude's art on DA (link in my profile yo!)

NOW ENJOY AND REVIEW AND FAV IF YOU LIKED! I love hearing about you :D


Thorin, confused and dismayed by the hobbit's response, took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Your name." he requested, "What is your name?"

"Wait…" the hobbit whispered, troubled by the request, "You really don't remember me?"

"Your name." Thorin insisted. "I need to know your name. Please. Who knows how long I have left before I awake."

The hobbit paused assessing the situation carefully. Then he looked Thorin dead in the eye and said: "My name is B—"

Thorin gasped as his eyes opened abruptly and reflexively flinched into a sitting position. Choked by an indescribable emotion, it took him a moment to calm his breathing and notice Fíli, Kíli and Pippin staring at him with wide eyes, next to his bed. "We…" Fíli hesitated slowly, "We came to wake you…"

"Supper is ready." Kíli added.

It still took their king a moment to register the spoken words for his meeting with the hobbit had shocked him something awful. "I saw him…" he finally whispered, almost to himself. He turned his gaze to his nephews, and spoke a tad louder, "I saw him…the hobbit."

"Like you normally do in your dreams…?" Kíli asked as he began to think that his uncle had finally gone mad.

"No," Thorin mumbled, "I spoke with him. He tried telling me his name but…"

The three intruders shared a perplexed look. "But…?" Fíli encouraged.

"But you woke me…" Thorin finished with an air of reproach.

"What was he like?" Pippin asked, unable to repress his curiosity any longer, "What did he look like?"

"Curly auburn hair, pale skin, pointy nose," a smile suddenly spread across the Dwarf King's face, "big blue eyes…I felt as though I was meeting with an old friend…"

"I'm sorry I doubted you."

"Oh…no, I would have doubted me too."

"I've studied the distance between Erebor and the Shire." Thorin announced after a moment of silence. He pushed off the silk covers and hopped onto the floor, "It's a year's journey there and back again."

"I guess going is out of the question." Kíli concluded disappointedly. During the time spent with Pippin, he had heard plenty of wonderful things about the Shire – specifically about Hobbiton. The hobbit had described it to be a place where the grass was beautifully green, like jade, and bursting with flower-covered hills. It had truly sounded peaceful and upon hearing the majestic description, the young prince had wished to see it.

"Dain is still in Erebor, is he not?" Thorin asked seemingly irrelevantly.

"He is…" Fíli answered slowly.

"Then I will have him govern the kingdom in my stead and personally ride to the Shire." Thorin decided, marching towards his wardrobe and pulling out more comfortable and liberating clothes. "Fíli, find a servant and tell them to prepare ponies and six months worth of provisions. Kíli, warn the others of my plans and send Dain to the stalls."

"I'll be going too, will I not?" Pippin asked, fearful of being left behind.

"Yes, you will show me the way." Thorin stated with a brief nod.

"Uncle, this is madness," Fíli opposed, "You can't just leave Erebor! There's so much to do, so much that needs to be taken in care!"

"Dain is fair of judgement," Thorin said, "I believe he will know what will be best for the kingdom and its people."

"But this is all so sudden!" Kíli argued, and then he paused and smirked; he had evidently thought up something mischievous, "I won't complain any longer if you allow me to accompany you."

"Absolutely not," Thorin refused immediately without hesitation, "You must stay here and learn of your duties!"

"But—"

"No buts!" Thorin interrupted harshly, "Now do as I say. The both of you! And equip the hobbit properly for the journey! I will not have him as dead weight."

The three intruders left to obey Thorin's will uncertainly – Kíli was a little angrier than Fíli due to having been refused to participate in this new adventure. While his nephews hushed the servants to hurriedly ready everything in record time for Thorin's expedition, the latter continued to pack his clothes. There was a sort of melancholy attached to the removal of his crown – he felt as though he was abandoning everything he had worked for and nearly died for even if he knew he would eventually return. Hopefully.

The removal of Thorin's royal clothes was no less morose but was easily overcome by the sight of the old garments he had almost forgotten. His fur cape, blue hood and leather pants beaten and worn by disastrous trials were filled with memories of hardships. They were what Thorin had normally worn when he scouted for members to partake on his quest for Erebor long ago, when it had been taken away from him. He slipped on his memory tainted attires with great satisfaction and decided to dwell a little less on the memoirs that would arise whenever he found anything dating from the past or else he would never leave the confinements of his room.

Finally, he found a bag, stuffed the spare clothing in neatly, and made his way down to the stables where he expected to see the hobbit, a few ponies ready to leave and his cousin Dain. He had taken a considerable amount of time in gathering his attires and trusted weapons thus; he found that the servants would have no excuse for their tardiness – if they were indeed belated. However, to his surprise, not only were the hobbit and ponies ready for travelling but so were thirteen dwarves – two of which had defiant smirks on their faces.

"What are you doing?" the Dwarf King asked unsure about whether he should be pleased or annoyed.

"Come on, lad," Dwalin chuckled, "Don't go assuming we'll let you leave us so quickly. We're in this together."

"Once a company," Bofur smiled, "always a company."

"And let's face it," Kíli grinned, "You didn't honestly think I would attend to my duties in your absence, did you? I miss adventuring, I miss the mountains and the hardships but also the satisfaction that came with achieving a goal set upon a quest."

"And he's not the only one." Ori chimed with a shy smile, "I always thought I would be happy buried in a library, with thousands of books, but I find myself distracted by the memories of journeying."

"Though I'm against abandoning Erebor so early after our return," Fíli began with a smile, "I am terribly bored by the plights of our kingdom's citizens."

"There's also something else we haven't told you," Balin added, stepping forth, "That hobbit, the one you dream about, we dream of him too. Not as frequently as you, but occasionally. If you're going to uncover the truth about him, then we deserve to come along and experience the answer with you."

"I honestly feel as though there is something dreadfully amiss concerning our mysterious hobbit," Oín admitted gravely, "And if my hunch is proper, you will need thirteen mighty dwarves at your side!"

"And don't you dare try to convince us to stay!" Gloín roared, "We're coming with you and that's final!"

Thorin was unable to resist a smile from pursing his lips; he was taken aback by the stubbornness and the willing hearts of his friends and family. After such a long peril, they would still eagerly stay by his side, and upon such a realisation, the Dwarf King truly felt blessed, "I thank you all." He said tranquilly.

"And I expect you to be all the more grateful to me, King Thorin!" Dain stated, his voice coming from behind the former. The King turned to face his cousin, mildly surprised to see him dressed in royal clothing ahead of the news that had yet to be announced to him (though Thorin had a suspicion that Kíli had hurriedly told Dain that he would be king temporarily) but was thankful for his keen heart which rivalled that of his company. "Thanks to you, I have to delay my return to the Ironhills."

"Forgive me." Thorin apologized humbly with a light bow.

"What? Did I sound upset?" Dain laughed, gesturing his King to stand upright, "This place is much livelier than the Ironhills and I fear that my men prefer it here! They'll be asking their wives and friends to move to Erebor in a heartbeat once they learn of our prolonged stay! I'll be ruling over a ghost kingdom once you've return from your long journey!"

Dain's cheeriness caused Thorin to crack a smile. "Thank you, Dain." He thanked, "I will repay you appropriately for this kind act."

"Ah! Enough!" Dain growled, "I thought it would be much more amusing than this to receive a show of gratitude but now you're killing it! Off with you! Go scout that ghost of yours and it better be worth it!"

Thorin nodded and turned to face his company again, they had already mounted their ponies and were ready to leave once their King gave word. "Are the ponies properly prepared?" he verified.

"Aye!" Bori said, "It took us all of the servants in the mountain to have them ready in time, but we managed. All that's left is you."

Thorin nodded and made his way to his pony which he mounted with ease. He found that he too missed adventuring to some extent – notably ridding a pony with which he tended to bond. "Where's the hobbit?" Thorin queried.

"He's with me," Kíli stated moving to the front of the pack, Pippin was sitting directly behind him with a sheepish grin. "He doesn't know how to ride a pony."

"Then I believe it should be time for him to learn," Thorin decided.

"No, no," Pippin refused quickly. He had spoken just before the Dwarf King was about to give a signal to have him move on an individual pony. "These beasts are quite terrifying and I rather have someone with me…"

Kíli laughed noisily at the confession, "Such a frightened fellow!" he commented, "You'd get along nicely with Ori, I would bet!"

"Right," Thorin cleared his voice, and shouted to the servants, "Open the doors!"

And that they did without a moment's hesitation. The large doors leading out of Erebor opened slowly and quite dramatically, revealing the night's landscape. One could spot the merry lights of Dale not too far away. A gust of fresh air was sent their way and they all breathed in the pleasant sent of the wilderness as excitement climbed up their spines provoking a shiver.

"We're off." Thorin stated to his cousin who was steadily growing impatient.

"Of course you are." Dain grumbled, "Now off with you! Shoo I say! Quite dallying!"

And with a final smile in his direction, Thorin kicked his pony and steered it out of Erebor feeling rather excited to be on the road once more – a feeling he never expected to have. They rode all night, never stopping to rest due to Thorin's choice of departing at such a late time and only stopped at noon of the next day when none could stand Pippin's complain for food any longer. They stopped next to a path bordering Mirkwood and were intercepted quite a few times by Elves requesting gold on Thranduil's behalf but, luckily, Dwalin chased them away in no time.

Once they had regained their strength and Pippin's belly was quite full, they began their journey around the Elven woods for they knew that even if the path was shorter through Mirkwood, Thranduil would inevitably try something if they dared attempt it. Thus they circled the woods, merrily singing and chatting loudly for they had no need to fear attacks from goblins and orcs because their kinds had significantly dropped in number. Along the way, Pippin had also proven himself a joyous fellow with thousands of amusing stories of mischief concerning himself and his best friend Merry. Actually, the company always laughed loudest whenever he recounted a tale with a comedic end.

When the journey around Mirkwood was ending and when the Misty Mountains were in sight, Balin had noticed that they were not too far from Beorn's home and managed to convince Thorin to stop by for a quick greeting. There they were greeted warmly and Beorn also admitted to having followed them for a part of their journey around the Elven forest. And before their departure, the large bear of a man also offered them supplementary provisions since theirs were dwindling what with Bombur's and Pippin's horribly large appetite.

With a friendly adieu and hopes of good will, they continued their journey through the Misty Mountains which had quickly become the most unpleasant part of their voyage. Cold rain and rough winds challenged them at every turn and at some point Ori's pony nearly fell from the narrow ridge to its doom along with its rider. Luckily, regardless of the harsh conditions, the party managed to escape any serious casualty by the end of their trail through the treacherous mountains.

It was as they were wandering through a forest filled with thick greenery, months prior to their departure from Erebor that a notion resurfaced in Pippin.

"How long since we've left Erebor?" Pippin asked, he was now ridding with Bofur.

"Oh, I'd say near fourth months now." Bofur guessed.

"And we're currently in the month of April, right?" Pippin continued.

"Yes," Balin, who was ridding next to them, answered, "Why do you ask?"

"Well, by the time we get to the Shire it should be the Mid-summer's festival." Pippin explained, "Which means that you will have a chance to see Gandalf – if we don't arrive later than the festival that is."

"Gandalf?" Balin asked pleasantly surprised, "What would he be doing in a hobbit village during the mid of summer?"

"He participates in the festival, of course!" Pippin answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "He's normally the center of the celebration what with his amazing fireworks! Oh I hope we don't miss them! They are truly magnificent!"

"Fireworks, eh?" Fíli mumbled, "Don't reckon I've ever seen one of those."

"You haven't?" Pippin asked appalled, "Where have you been in the last decade?"

"Fighting for our home, mostly," Bofur laughed merrily.

"Well they're absolutely amazing!" Pippin said with great enthusiasm, "They make a loud sound that is quite unpleasant at times, but the beauty of the colours just raining down—"

"We know what they are!" Kíli chuckled, "We just haven't seen them before! They're explosions in the sky!"

"They're not just fireworks!" Pippin stated as if the young dwarf prince was an imbecile, "Gandalf's fireworks come to life! I remember once, Merry and I snuck into the tents were he stored them. We stole the biggest one we could find – shaped like a dragon! The we lit it but forgot to plant it! In a fit of panic we just tossed it around until it finally exploded and shot towards the sky along with the tent! Then it exploded again and the colours were beautiful, we had thought it was rather dull until the sparks took the shape of a dragon and came hurling down towards the festival's festivities! Luckily, Gandalf used his magik to throw it off but we weren't so lucky when he found us…"

The company laughed loudly by the end of the story, "You troublemaker!" Dwalin chuckled, "What did the old man have you do?"

"The dishes mostly," Pippin answered with a shudder, "You might think it to be a simple punishment but if you saw just how much the people of Hobbiton ate that year during the festival, you would have wept at the workload!"

And thus, with the new information and chain of humorous stories, the company doubled its speed as to assure their arrival in Hobbiton before the festival. However, this sadly meant less time to eat for Bombur and Pippin who mourned the loss of food together. On the bright side, the cut in time reserved for eating proved fruitful for, two months later; they stumbled into Hobbiton with three days to spare before the Mid-summer festival.

There Pippin guided the thirteen Dwarves to the Green Dragon inn where they could rent rooms until they were ready to leave again. Then, Pippin returned to his family and friends who had already finished mourning him for they had assumed he was dead. Nonetheless, before leaving, Pippin had given Thorin the directions to Bag End where he would undoubtedly find more answers concerning the mysterious Baggins.

Thorin had only decided to investigate Bag End a day before the festival due to wanting time to relax after their long journey. During then, he drank and ate to his fill along with his valued company. And it was only when they were all passed out on the inn's floor in the afternoon, that Thorin travelled alone towards the abandoned home. He had gotten lost twice along the way but eventually found his way with the help of the locals who didn't fail to warn him about the curse set upon the home.

Bag End was surprisingly eerie but Thorin deemed it normal considering that the house had not been tended to for a long time. The flowers decorating the outside of the house were dead and rotten whereas the green of the grass covering the home had yellowed grotesquely. He pushed his way pass the petit door in the fence that would have been rather cute if it wouldn't have been for the large cobwebs and the sinister screech it made when it was finally used.

Thorin made his way to the round, green door worn by time and pushed it open revealing a sight similar to what Pippin had first described back in Erebor. The inside of the house was dim, lifeless and covered with a thick layer of dust. The corners of the ceiling were littered with large webs which bore at least ten spiders each – minimum – and caused a shudder to crawl up the Dwarf King's spine. He ventured forth, surprised by how loud his steps echoed through the vacant home, and investigated every room.

As Pippin had said, the home was lacking in furniture and ornaments where they should have been present. In those mentioned places, Thorin had noticed that the layer of dust was thinner thus it was understandable why one would assume a burglar was the cause of the home's emptiness. However, upon a more precise inspection, the Dwarf King noticed that there were no scratches on the floor made by heavy furniture. It was doubtful to assume that the burglar who had penetrated the homestead had been strong enough to quietly lift the fittings and make way with them without anyone notice hence the idea was rebutted. It was as Thorin explored Bag End further that he noticed only one room was excluded from the lifelessness and desolation: the study room. It contained a desk littered with dust-covered papers and a chair that had once seen better days. But what had captivated the Dwarf King's eyes the most was the red leather book left as a display on the bureau.

Carefully treading towards it, Thorin dusted the leather cover, an action which revealed golden letters labelling the piece of literature. "There and Back Again," Thorin read slowly, "A Hobbit's tale."

He was disappointed that the author had failed to sign his name but opened the book curiously and skimmed over the pages quickly when, suddenly, he thought he saw his name. Turning a few pages back and he read a passage. "As I hid in my room, wondering why oh why I had allowed Gandalf to talk me into accepting the Dwarves in my house, Thorin Oakenshield's familiar voice suddenly resonated loudly through the halls of my home." Thorin read rapidly beneath his breathe, "He had engaged in song. At first, I wanted to stop this racket he was encouraging but the melancholy present in his voice had me stop the thought and listen carefully as he mourned the loss of his home through song. Even now I still remember those lyrics and the deep rumbling of his enchanting voice. He sang: Far over the Misty Mountains cold, To dungeons deep and caverns old, We must away 'ere break of day, To seek our pale enchanted gold."

The song inevitably continued but Thorin stopped reading it quickly as he flipped through the pages. How was it that this stranger of the Baggins family knew of their quest for the Lonely Mountain and even wrote a book depicting it? None of it made sense because Thorin couldn't remember any of it, yet everything written was horribly familiar and had appeared to him in the form of a dream.

Unable to contain himself, the Dwarf King skipped to the end of the book wanting to know how the hobbit had finished the tale. "Upon entering the tent in which I was told Thorin laid, my heart clenched horribly as I expected the worst." Thorin mumbled as his eyes scanned the sentences, "And when I did see him lying in a bloodied bed, I knew that my time with him would be short. Judging by the look in his eyes once he noticed me, he knew the same as I. Farewell, good thief, he whispered to me, I go now to the halls where I will revisit my kin and stand by them until the world is renewed. And before I go, I wish to part with you in friendship. I would take back my words and deeds at the Gate. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world. But sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell… I couldn't contain the tears that poured down my face, Farewell, Thorin King Under the Mountain…And whether you believe it or not, I isolated myself and wept until my eyes were red and my voice hoarse."

Thorin froze while reading those words; his heart thudded heavily with anger and confusion. He was angry that the writer had dared to write a version of the story in which he died and was confused for the same reason. He tossed the book angrily and, almost as if it were fate, the pages flipped open to the introduction page of the book. Thorin peaked quickly and stopped himself when he noticed the word Baggins.

"There and Back Again, a Hobbit's tale." Thorin reread quickly, slowing at the name. "Written by Bilbo Baggins"

"But who is Bilbo Baggins?" an old voice asked from the room's frame.

Thorin spun around to meet its owner, "Gandalf!" he exclaimed.

The timeworn wizard wandered into the room with a fox-like smile plastering his face, "Good to see you again, my King," he mock bowed with embellished courtesy.

"What are you doing here?" Thorin asked, "We weren't expecting you until tomorrow."

"When I heard that thirteen Dwarves had been terrorizing the hobbits of Hobbiton and took over the Green Dragon two days ago," Gandalf began with a chuckle, "I felt the need to take a look. I'm surprised that you would wander so far away from Erebor after so recently returning to the throne."

"Troubling dreams have brought me to where I am presently." Thorin explained vaguely.

"Dreams concerning Bilbo Baggins." Gandalf specified as if he had peered into the Dwarf King's mind for the information, "So I too have not been the only one afflicted by them…"

"They seem to be visions of a different past…" Thorin mused, then he gestured the book, "a different past that seems to be recorded in this book."

"And yet our memories would suggest that the book is spewing lies." Gandalf agreed, "However, I believe that it dictates the truth."

"Why would you say that?" Thorin asked, anger rising in his tone, "I'm still alive. This book can not be telling the truth, I am the proof."

"Thorin Oakenshield, do not underestimate the potential of magik." The old wizard warned wearily, "with a willing heart and a magik key, anything is possible."

"Is there such thing as magik powerful enough to alter the past?" the Dwarf King queried.

"Perhaps," Gandalf guessed, "It is not improbable thus I should assume it to be probable. The important question is where would the knowledge for such a thing reside if it indeed exists?"

"I don't know…" Thorin mumbled defeated.

"Luckily I do." Gandalf smirked, "The Elves would be the only ones with recorded knowledge of the history of such a powerful magik. Elrond's library would, specifically, be the location in which we could find it."

"You won't find me seeking help from the Elves." Thorin scoffed.

"You will if you want to know what happened to Bilbo Baggins and if the past he speaks of in that book is in fact the truth." Gandalf warned, "You have two days to decide whether you follow me to Rivendell or not."