Author nonsense: Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoy the next installment. The Hobbit 2 just released in China, so, luckily, I have yet to make it to that since I won't likely have access to it for at least another month or more. I hope this is truly three days from my last update, but I get confused if the update dates are in my time in China or the US. So, I'll take this as a guess in my time-addled brain.

Disclaimer: All you recognize is Tolkein.

And thank you, 19seventythree for all your support.


Eda wasn't completely illiterate. She knew how to write the names of her family, and she knew her letters and numbers. It was only when someone put the blasted letters into groups that she struggled. Her father could read basics, but he never considered teaching his daughter such when he could teach her how to read animal tracks. Her mother had married young and had never wanted her future one of scholarly pursuits. For Eda's few years in school, she had paid little attention, and so, when the family's money ran thin after a poor season, she had voluntarily dropped out and never looked back.

She could still do her jobs; smuggling rarely used contracts or any written evidence so her need for verbal instructions gave little hinderance. If it required recognizing a correct catch, she would quickly shove the words into her brain with a short-term memorization. Facing the dwarf contract was the first time in twenty odd years she wished whole-heartedly that she had learned to read.

The blond dwarf's voice echoed in her ears. "One fourteenth of the treasure in Erebor." She exhaled low and long, and the sound gradually turned to a whispered whistle. Surely dwarves wouldn't take on a dragon for a few gold coins. The dwarf settlements in the Blue Mountains hadn't the grandeur of historical kingdoms, she knew, but they had settled comfortably in the caverns. To draw them away from a safe home, she reasoned, it must be a mountain of gold itself. 'Enough gold to settle me and my family,' she thought. Seconds later she darted into what looked like a study, grabbed a quill from atop the desk and scratched her name on the line.


Eda quickly discovered the difficulty of sleeping underground when she returned to her room and realized the lack of windows in this specific room meant she wouldn't see dawn. The idea of relying on the dwarves to wake her struck uncomfortably in the gut. Bidding a sad farewell to the soft bed, she grabbed her boots, pack and headed back to the hearth. Most of the dwarves had given to sleep after their song and a few rounds of pipe smoking. Eda could hear their snores before she even entered the room and stopped in the doorway, her eyes searching the ground and furniture for an open space. Two of the younger dwarves lay before the fire, immersed in conversation. A meter away—enough of a distance for her to slip in—sat another of the young dwarves. She stepped cautiously through the limbs and made brief eye contact with the dwarf as she moved towards him. She tried miming her intent, but his eyes had averted to the notebook resting in his gloved hands.

"I-is anyone—" he shook his head fervently but didn't move his eyes from his book. She shrugged and sat down beside him. After a second of silence, her curiosity piqued and she leaned in his direction, her eyes trying to steal a glance at the pages of his book. He immediately jerked the book closer to his chest and tilted away. She frowned in a sort of resigned annoyance and wrapped herself in her cloak.

"Don't take it personally," a young voice reached out. She looked at the two dwarves at the hearth. The brunette spoke, "he doesn't show anyone what he writes in there." Kili's face broke with a mischievous grin and she felt the young dwarf beside her shrinking behind his pages. "Fili and I have a wager on what it is."

At this, the blond, Fili, piped up. "I say they are fantastic renderings of all our glory."

"I attest they are secret letters of love and longing for a dwarf lass." Eda would have easily sworn she felt heat radiating from the silent dwarf at her side. Somehow their very conspiracies spoke to something of the two brothers, and Eda felt tickles of amusement.

"Perhaps they are secret recipes to grow great beards," she suggested. The attention turned to Kili, who held a look of mock indignation and intense curiosity.

"I shall have to steal the book as soon as our Ori has rested his eyes, then!" he declared. Ori let out a hiccup and clutched the book tighter. Only when they laughed did he relax, realizing their jest.

"Best leave the thievery to our burglar," Fili recommended, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder and chuckling. "As I hear, she is already quite experienced." There was something of a playful challenge in his eyes that Eda returned.

"I wouldn't know of any thievery," she paused and her lips tilted into a smirk. "I just happen to pick up things people leave behind."

"And by 'behind' she means anything left in the open," Fili said to Kili, who snickered. Eda felt a surge of pride and her smirk widened before she adopted an innocent expression.

"I don't know, Master Fili." Her fingers pulled a thick metal clasp from her pocket. In the firelight, the dark metal sparked with glimmers of red. Fili's eyes shot wide and he grabbed his cloak, which had been previously resting as a pillow near Eda's hip. "Did you not mean to leave this behind?" Her fingers tingled with the energy coursing her veins. He snatched the clasp back amongst the roaring laughter of Kili and pointedly tucked it into his pocket, shooting her a look of light-hearted reproach and amusement. She didn't feel any remorse for the loss; her fingers grazed items simply for the thrill of the sneak, the snatch. Escaping without an eye knowing.

"You are a thief!"

She scowled lightly. "I am not a thief." She grinned smugly. "I'm a collector." It hardly sufficed for a cover and the group, Ori included, tried to keep their laughs low. Kili made a mildly dramatic show of checking his things for any missing items.

"She's as bad as Nori," he jested.

"No one's as bad as Nori," Fili said almost proudly. Ori carefully tucked his notebook into his coat, tucking it near his chest, and shuffled to lie on the ground. Eda considered it a que for their own time to sleep, but neither Fili nor Kili appeared to share this sentiment. As the young dwarf's breathing slowed and steadied, they dropped to whispers.

"Uncle said you're a smuggler, too," Fili stated. "What do you smuggle?" 'That's quite a diplomatic approach,' she thought sarcastically. For his part, the brunette brother seemed equally curious but more uncomfortable with the question. Eda caught a flicker of something in his expression that tasted of distrust. 'Smart enough to recognize the difference between genial exchanges and trust,' she reasoned. Fili mistook her silence for insult and hurried to soften the question. "I know he also said you haven't stolen anything from the Dwarves in the Blue Mountains or our kin." Kili's expression turned to one more at ease—though still not entirely trusting.

Eda never considered for even a fraction of a second to explain or repute the statement. Supply and demand dominated her life as a small-time smuggler, and, while valuable, dwarf jewels were never an issue of demand. She hardly thought it would swell their dwarf chests with pride, however, to know that she didn't consider stealing their relics or jewels to be worth her effort, even if it was a simple explanation: high risk, low reward, high pay, low demand. Of course, if that changed at any point...

On the other hand, issues of medicines, raw materials, food could be sold in almost any town without people wondering—or caring—where the goods came from. And smaller trinkets like anonymous jewelry—to either resell or melt for metal.

Kili waited with more curiosity than he knew he had for the realm of the shady. He believed in honour and courage, both of which felt directly challenged by the existence of this woman. At the same time, he didn't feel uneasy around her; he had always thought illegal characters simply grew from defective personalities. Evil, in a word. Corrupt, a bad egg. As such, he had always imagined it would be easy for him to pick them out if he ever met one. But he had met one, and he would never had known had his uncle not revealed it.

She shrugged, having finally seemed to resolve her thoughts. "I deal most in daily things people need but can't always get themselves." His eyebrows furrowed. If it was daily or rudimentary, then why wouldn't people have them? How would a smuggler or thievery come into the matter? Anything his kin needed, they made or bought fairly, and Kili never felt need for something beyond his reach. The idea rang foreign in his ears.

He found his eyes locked on hers when her voice pulled him from his thoughts. "There come times when people find items harder to come by. Medicines, plants, metals, weapons. Not everyone can rely completely on self and kinship cannot make resources grow from the ground. At that point, it is a matter of getting items into the paying hands."

"And when it is a want but not a need and the objects are less charitable in nature?" Kili studied her carefully, almost stiffly. Thorin had said she hadn't stolen from dwarves, but she had mentioned weaponry. Surely dwarf weapons and armour, perhaps even mithril, made its way through her hands. While dwarves were protective of their culture and proud of their skills, they wouldn't snob work in smitheries even if their works would go to human hands—Thorin himself had worked in human villages once Erebor was stolen. Yet the idea of stealing the goods to resell without conscience made his fingers twitch angrily.

Her eyes turned to the dozing fire. "It's not my place to decide who morally deserves to buy—nor is it my interest so long as they can pay." Fili shifted and rested a hand on his brother's forearm. Their eyes met for just a brief second, but Kili knew his brother wanted him to sleep before things went towards a messy quarrel of values. More the woman's apparent lack of. When he did not move to lie down, Fili squeezed his arm and tugged.

The woman gave him a small smile as if she didn't feel a guilt in the world for her words. Contrary to his brother's worry, Kili didn't feel excessively angry—which came as a surprise to even himself. As he lay down, he tried to pick apart the knot of thoughts. But like a knot made of a thousand strings, he found himself grasping hopelessly at fragments he couldn't untangle. There certainly was some hint of anger. Distrust, too. Indignation and pity, disgust. But the feelings only simmered as if her frank words had sprayed water over the kindling; she hadn't spoken proudly or defensively. If anything, her voice held hardly any emotion at all. Perhaps that's what unnerved him the most.


"Come on, Gloin, make your decision already!" Bofur pestered loudly. He jabbed the red-headed dwarf sharply, earning him a reproachful harrumph.

"Nay," he said. The company stood in the high sunshine of the Shire. A handful of members put the remaining bags and provisions on the ponies while the others mounted and continued a boisterous gambling session. Eda swung her back onto the back of her pony and started to wrap it securely in thick twine. The morning sun was bright but still young, dusting their faces in warmth and giving promising kisses of the warmth to come. Throin waited silently on his horse, and the woman thought she detected a note of annoyance at their good-natured delay.

"And you?" She glanced up at Bofur as he sat happily in his saddle. Swinging into her saddle, she shook her head.

"I don't gamble, Master Bofur," she said simply and set to gathering her reigns. "I hardly have money 'nough without simply giving it away." She laughed in her breath.

"Your loss, lassie," he grinned around his pipe and turned to Oin on his other side.

"What 'bout you, Oin?" He shouted. "Yay or nay on the hobbit?" The dwarves chuckled and Thorin kicked his steed to a steady walk with the rest of the company following.

"What was that?" Oin leaned precariously in his saddle in his attempt to put his trumpet closer to Bofur. Bofur reached out and grabbed the metal's edge, shouting again, "Yay or nay on the hobbit?" Eda nudged her new pony to fall in line and left the betting behind.


"Miss Eda." She looked up from her horse's mane to the familiar face with happily crinkled eyes. "I don't believe we were properly introduced." He gave her a pointed look, and her attention caught up.

"O-oh, yes," she fumbled and cleared her throat. "I am Miss Eda. You are…?"

Gandalf nodded his head. "Gandalf the Grey."

"A wizard?! Oh, golly!" She couldn't resist the theatrical exuberance and nearly broke into laughter at the mirth in his eyes.

"Yes, I do believe I am," he replied evenly. "And you are a woman of many professions, I hear." He tilted his head to peer more sternly. Eda thought of the way her teacher would look at her after catching another stolen trinket in her desk. A sort of amused all-knowing—not necessarily surprised but with a touch of insult that they were, in the case of her teacher, once again in the same situation.

"I like to consider them all of one profession. They are all a matter of simple delivery." Hunting wood to plate. Smuggling goods to paying hands. "Some may say the morals are questionable, but I am sure if you asked enough, a deer would tell you I stole his mother away with my arrows." His lips twitched, and she let out a more honest, defiant grin. "I find life is all a matter of perspective."

"And the best perspective to have is that none matter?" Gandalf challenged calmly.

She opened her mouth to answer when a faint voice stretched through the trees. Another shout and the group came to a collective still. Eyes turned back to a hasty figure.

"I signed it." The hobbit held up the trailing piece of paper triumphantly. Balin took it for a close inspection before announcing his approval.

"Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield." Several dwarves let out hoots of happiness. Gandalf himself looked unsurprised but respectfully happy. Eda imagined him gloating on the inside. Thorin glanced at her with something she couldn't begin to read but turned his horse to the front. "Give him a pony." And at that, they set off again.

Immediately, Eda fell back, waiting for the dwarves to finish positioning him in the saddle before she dropped into line beside him. The hobbit showed little recognition of her presence as he stared at the reins in his hands then at the ambling animal. Luckily it seemed to require little guidance from him. She cleared her throat.

"I-uh-I wanted to apologize," she stammered. "For…well, for lying to you yesterday." In the hurry of signing a contract, meeting the company—more or less—and Bilbo's departure for bed, she had completely forgotten about making right by the Halfling. Seeing him raised a wave of guilt in her stomach that she wanted to subside as soon as possible. "I shouldn't have done it, but it was…" she couldn't think of a reasoning. For truthfully speaking there existed none that would make her somehow less culpable for lying and taking advantage of him. She shifted uncomfortably in her saddle and felt her palms warm. 'Apologizing couldn't honestly make me sweat,' she thought incredulously. 'I've apologized before. There was…"her brain racked for the last time "I'm sorry" came into her vocabulary.

"It's okay," the hobbit cracked in. "I suppose it is all part of the adventure, now." He smiled good-naturedly, and Eda felt a twinge of guilt before smiling back. 'Are all hobbits this wholesome?' she looked around at the company. 'Or perhaps everyone is, and I'm simply the odd one here.' At that point, Gandalf joined them, and Eda spurred her horse ahead to give them privacy.

"Pay up, Nori!" Eda ducked as a bag of coins sailed past her. 'Yes,' she mused, 'this will likely be an adventure.'