Author's Note: Been writing this chapter very slowly over the past couple of days so here ya go.

Bit of another filler chapter.

Little more about each individual dwarf in this one because I felt like they were being neglected.

Tiny tidbit of Thorin/Iari's relationship (which hasnt fully developed out in my head yet mind you, so it probably still seems very vague at the moment).

Umm... thats all I can say for now until the bottom Author's Note so cya down there! ;D

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my OC - writing for fun not for profit

Iarí's name is pronounced ( EYE-ARE-REE )

THIS CHAPTER IS RATED K


The sun rose over the horizon, rousing the birds into morning song. They chirped and tweeted in the trees whilst the bees began to buzz around the flowers in Mr Baggins's perfectly neat little garden. The little hobbit hole was quiet… except for the soft thundering symphony of snores, resonating from the blanketed mounds of the sleeping dwarves that littered the carpeted floor.

Iarí awoke softly, the heavy veil of sleep lifting from her eyes as she raised her head from her pillow and looked around the room where she had bedded down for the night. Sunlight trickled in through the round windows of the parlour, wisps of smoke from the burnt out candles of last night swirled in the air. The hobbit hole smelt of the rich, dry earth that embraced the home in the hill. She was the first to awaken it seemed, as there was no other movement than the soft rise and fall of chests and shoulders as the rest of the company slept. From where she lay she could see the large bulk that was Bombur settled in the kitchen, snoring the loudest of them all, wrapped up in his bedroll and drooling. Ori had slept by her feet, almost curled up into a ball beneath his blanket, cuddling his leather bound journal in his arms with a dopey smile of his face whilst he dreamed. As she stirred to raise herself onto her elbows, an arm that lay across her waist wrapped around her tighter and pulled her closer into the body of its owner.

Iarí turned her head and frowned at the sleeping Fíli.

They had gone to sleep last night side by side, with an appropriate distance between them, but seemingly during the night they had both unconsciously inched towards each other until Fíli had her back pressed against his chest. Iarí made a mental note not to sleep near Fíli again. If they had been found curled so intimately like that, suspicions would be raised and questions would be asked. It was only the first day of the quest and they were already apparently struggling to keep their distance. She rolled over in his arms to face him, feeling his warm breath lap over her face. Smiling softly, she pressed a light lingering kiss to his lips, unwrapping his arm from around her and moving out from his grasp without waking him.

She stretched her arms out to the sides and rolled her neck as she sat up, moaning quietly with satisfaction. She sharply pulled off her blanket and got to her feet. With the bodies of fourteen dwarves, the hobbit hole was uncomfortably warm and stuffy. Seeking fresh cool air, Iarí made to step outside, climbing strategically over a couple of sleeping bodies in her path and grabbed her bow from where it had been hung on the coat rack, opening the door carefully so not to disturb the others.

In the morning sun, Hobbiton was green. So incredibly, vividly green and bright and blooming with life that Iarí felt the urge to blink as she stared across the rolling hills where colourful round hobbit doors were etched into knolls with brick chimneys spouting smoke. The air was clear and crisp with the fragrances of flowers; the lake at the bottom of the hill was blue in the reflection of the cloudless sky. Hobbits were already awake, tending to their gardens or their animals or their children, dressed in bright colours and fine pattern fabrics. It was so content, so peaceful, so quiet…

It was unnerving.

Iarí wasn't one for peace and quiet. She was a traveller, a warrior and an adventurer. She could never stay still for as long as these hobbits did. Their life seemed so monotonous; they were so happily comfortable with performing the same routine day in and day out, watching their plants grow and their bellies widen. A hobbits life was such a simple life. It was a life that Iarí didn't crave for. Despite her eighty years she was still young for a dwarf, but she was strong and her mind was sharp. She would not waste her life away like these hobbits.

A couple of hobbits strolling past arm in arm went wide-eyed at the sight of the she-dwarf on the perch of Bilbo's doorstep. The female hobbit wearing a blue floral puffed sleeved dress, fluttered her hand to her open mouth to stifle a gasp as she stared at Iarí. Her chubby husband drew the pipe from his lips and gave a low whistle without much smart thinking for his wife promptly cuffed him around his pointy ear and dragged him away with a glare.

Iarí perched on the wooden bench by the doorway and began adjusting the string of her bow, making sure that it was taut and strong whilst waiting for her companions to wake. Her bow was long and recurved, intricately carved from a thick branch of an ash tree. It was light but it was powerful and intended for long range. After she had checked the knots of the string, twice, she was growing impatient, twitching to get onto the road. She was deciding on the most effective way to wake the slumbering dwarves inside, when the door beside her opened. Thorin stepped out from the hobbit hole, shrugging his fur-collared coat onto his shoulders, his eyes finding Iarí on the bench.

Thorin frowned, the crease between his thick brows deepening, suddenly unsettled in the way that in the light of the day and surrounded by flowers, she looked so delicate, so innocent… so young. With the large bow in her lap she reminded him of a child playing pretend. He knew she was anything but. He knew that she was a fearsome thing to behold in battle, yet the thought did not leave his mind as she smiled up at him, standing to her feet with her bow in hand and stood beside him.

"There's an inn across the water." She reported as he gazed across the land below them. "We can eat there, since we seemed to have cleared out Master Baggins's pantry last night. No doubt they'd serve breakfast. All hobbits ever seem to do is eat."

Thorin released a low chuckle at her wrinkling her nose disapprovingly, his eyes brightened and the stern air around him lifted. Iarí was one of few that heard his laugh and saw his smiles.

"We should be able to restock supplies and buy ponies as well. Gandalf said he would meet us down there."

Thorin nodded. "Wake the others."

Iarí smiled with a mischievous glee in her eyes, turning to go back inside, but as her hand grabbed the round doorknob she stilled.

"Should I wake the hobbit?"

A part of Iarí knew that the hobbit would be better of staying in the comforts of his home but she could not deny the advantages of him on the quest. She could appreciate the wizard's thinking; he was small, unnoticeable… practically invisible. Smaug would not know his scent, as dragons did not have reason for dealings with hobbits. They coveted gold, not food, flowers and pipe weed. But the facts against Mister Baggins were clear as well. He did not know how to defend himself. He knew nothing of hardship, of battle and of the world beyond the Shire borders. There was no surety that he would make it to Erebor alive to fulfill his role. Ori was already near next to defenseless. They did not need someone else who would need protecting.

"Master Baggins has not signed the contract," Thorin answered after a brief pause; his voice low and rough. "He's of no concern of ours."

Iarí nodded her head, pushing open the door and ducking into the house and to the parlour. She let out a short piercing whistle, smirking as the mounds began to stir and groan into consciousness. Dwalin sat up immediately with his battle-axes, Ukhlat and Umraz both ready in hand.

"Wake up! We have a kingdom to reclaim!" She barked, punting Fíli in the sole of his boot, watching him fondly as he jolted and squinted up at her. She flashed him a grin before moving onto Kíli who was lying on his chest only a little away, placing her heavy boot on his backside and shaking him until he lazily swatted at her foot and begun lifting himself from the floor with a sleepy groan.

Once everyone had awoken they set about packing away their bedrolls, returning any furniture to their proper places out of courtesy and pulled on their coats, assorted weapons and packs. When they had finished, Bag End showed no evidence that it had been occupied by more than a dozen dwarves… except for the pitifully empty pantry.

"Let's go." Thorin ordered once everyone was finished and ready, leading the way out of the door.

Iarí shrugged on her large pack over her shoulder as the dwarves filed out outside. From the corner of her eye she watched curiously as Ori tenderly placed down the unsigned company contract onto the hobbit's armchair with a hopeful look on his face. He blushed when he looked up and met her quizzical gaze, shuffling past her and out the door quickly to fall behind his brothers. Iarí gave the hobbit hole one last look before closing the door behind her.


The long procession of ponies ambled along contently on the wide dirt road through East Farthing Woods. Warm dappled sunlight filtered through the thick tall trees beneath the peaceful cloudy sky. Sixteen ponies in all had been acquired from the Hobbiton stables, good tempered and sturdy with thick wooly coats. Fourteen carried riders and the two additional ones held the supplies; large packs of food stuffed with dried meats and sausages, fruits, cheese, bread, biscuits, potatoes and vegetables, and large skins of wine and water. As well as the ponies, a large chestnut mare had been purchased for the tall grey wizard who had met them cheerfully at The Green Dragon.

The sight of the cluster of heavily armed dwarves had caused quite a commotion in Hobbiton. Though hobbits were accustomed to dwarves occasionally passing through the Shire, either travelling or on business trading, they had never in memory seen such a large and odd array. The adult hobbits had shrunk and kept their distance but the inquisitive bright-eyed and adorable hobbit girls and boys had flocked around the strangers, a few even daring to approach them and ask questions whilst the dwarves enjoyed a hearty breakfast on the picnic benches spread across on the lawn of The Green Dragon.

Fíli smiled, sat astride his speckled grey pony riding beside his brother, as he recalled the look on Iarí's face when a small hobbit boy had tugged at her sleeve and asked her why she didn't have a beard as well.

"Because I'm a woman, little one," she had managed to say, wiping her chin with her sleeve after she had spurted out her drink with shock. The boy had tilted his head at her, raising his eyebrow suspiciously.

"But I thought she-dwarfs were supposed to have beards too!" He had retorted, pouting and scrutinizing her hairless chin. Iarí had looked utterly horrified whilst Fíli and Kíli snickered behind their mugs at the image of her with a beard. She had swiftly kicked them both in their shins.

She rode far ahead of him near the front of the convoy, mounted on her smokey cream pony beside Thorin on his red bay, discussing plans for the road ahead. It would be several days riding until they reached Bree where they would be able to buy more supplies and spend the night comfortably in rooms at The Prancing Pony. After that, they would not see such comforts again until they reached Laketown.

Iarí stared at the grey wizards' back as he led. From the discussion last night she guessed that he wanted to take the company to Rivendell. It caused a nervousness to flutter in her stomach.

"I said it. Didn't I say it?" Dori said bitterly, his voice carrying loudly. "Coming here was a waste of time."

"That's true enough!" Gloin shouted gruffly.

"Ridiculous," Dori continued, to anyone that was still listening. "Use a hobbit?! Whose idea was it anyway?"

"Wait! Waait!"

The company ceased with neighs and grunts of the protesting ponies as the voice called out from behind them. All eyes turned to see Bilbo Baggins waving the long contract in the air as he pelted to catch them up.

"I signed it!" Bilbo announced, struggling for breath but smiling proudly as he found Balin and handed the contact over to him. The wise, white haired dwarf arched an eyebrow, pulling out his loupe from the depth of his jacket and thoroughly examined Bilbo's signature.

"Everything appears to be in order," He declared, folding the contract and tucking it into his pack. "Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield."

Balin offered the smiling hobbit a wink as several cheers sounded from the line of the procession. Iarí looked to the hobbit standing with a delighted smile plastered on his face and a small bag secured on his back. He looked eager and excited. Her brows furrowed together in bewilderment.

Why had he come? What had changed his mind? He had been so resolute in his decision the night before.

"Give him a pony," Thorin ordered, turning back to the road and spurring his pony on. Bilbo's head snapped up.

"Oh, n-no, no, that won't be necessary, thank you," he stammered. "I'm sure I can keep up, on foot. I- I've done my fair share of walking holidays, you know. Even got as far as Frogmorton once—argh!"

Fíli and Kíli had rode up either side of him as he had wittered on, plucked him from the ground by the straps of his pack, and had dropped him onto the supply pony with the large cooking pot on it's back. Bilbo looked shocked at suddenly finding himself on the back of a pony and a little affronted at being manhandled by the brothers, who just grinned at him before falling to the end of the procession.

Gandalf, on his large chestnut mare, held back to ride beside Bilbo who was clearly not comfortable with riding a horse; sitting with his spine rigid and his knuckles white as he held the reins, his elbows stiffly planted into his sides and a grimace on his face. He recoiled in fright as the pony he rode suddenly whickered and tossed back her wheat coloured mane.

"Come on Nori, pay up!" Oin shouted to the pointy haired dwarf who sighed. He dug into his coat, retrieving a drawstring purse and tossed it back to Oin who snatched it from the air and laughed delightedly as he felt the heavy weight of the gold coins in his hand. "Thanks lad!"

"One more," Fíli called out eagerly as Kíli let out a light-hearted chuckle. Bilbo watched the flying coin bags go past his head in a state of confusion and curiosity.

"What's that about?"

"Oh, they took wagers," Gandalf explained, "On whether or not you'd turn up. Most of them bet that you wouldn't."

"And what did you think?" Bilbo asked.

"Well…" Gandalf sighed, suddenly dropping the reins in his hand to catch the incoming purse. "My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second!" He chuckled, tossing the purse with the gold coins clinking inside before placing it into his bag slung over his shoulder.

Only a few had had faith that Bilbo would join the company, Gandalf being one of them. He remembered the adventurous young hobbit Bilbo had been in his youth: exploring the woods for elves, staying out until past dusk and seeking out adventure. Although Bilbo had seemed perfectly content in the simple comforts of his home under the hill, that very home was brimming with extensive maps of lands beyond the Shire.

"So," Bilbo started, shifting in his seat and leaning towards Gandalf. "Who is everyone?"

"Were you not introduced last night?"

"Well, sort of. I- I mean… there were a lot of names…"

"Ah," Gandalf chuckled with understanding before beginning. "Well, behind us we have Oin…"

Bilbo turned in his seat to look at the dwarf with wiry grey hair. He had a great moustache that looked like it sprouted from his nose like the tusks of the Oliphaunts in his books. His long beard was braided at his chin and parted in two, curling back up into the long bristly mass of his sideburns. He was very distinctive by the odd-looking iron horn that he held to his right ear, for he was very hard of hearing. Bilbo learnt from Gandalf that Oin was a healer and was skilled at making medicine from herbs and plants.

Riding in front of them was Nori, the tri-pointy haired dwarf with the tri-braided beard to match, and Bofur, the dwarf who wore the upturned shearling hat on top of his dark plaited pigtails and who had made Bilbo faint. Nori was an expert at picking locks, Bilbo was told, which often got him in trouble with the dwarven authorities back in Belegost. Bofur seemed to be the heart of the company, kind, cheery and loyal, with a love of good music and good food. Dori and Ori rode ahead of them. Dori, silver-haired with a large round nose, seemed more like a mother than a brother to Ori. He always seemed to be fussing over the young wide-eyed lad with the wispy ginger beard and mushroom cap haircut.

Then there was Bifur and Bombur. Bilbo remembered quiet vividly the large orange haired dwarf, who wore his thick plaited beard like a necklace, had gobbled down three whole wheels of cheese without blinking. He was the companies cook and had an appetite as large as his waistline. Bifur, with an orc axe protruding from his head and wild black and white hair, looked feral. Due to his severe head trauma Bifur could only communicate in the dwarvish language of Khuzdul and its sign language, Iglishmêk.

In front of them rode the brothers Dwalin and Balin; the first dwarves that Bilbo had met. With his bulging arms, battle scars, tattoos and what seemed to be a permanent scowl etched on his face, Dwalin was daunting. Balin was much more approachable and as one of the oldest dwarves among the company, he was also one of the wisest. After them there was Gloin, who had the longest and thickest beard that reached his belly, and a temper that was as fiery as his russet hair.

"What about her?" Bilbo asked curiously, nodding towards Iarí riding by Thorin. Gandalf hadn't needed to remind him of Thorin's name. "Is she his daughter?"

"No, no, Thorin has no children," Gandalf replied, "Only his sister-sons. But Iarí is like a daughter to him I suppose. She is his ward you see. He took her in after-"

"Gandalf," Fíli interrupted sharply from behind them, causing the wizard and the hobbit to turn in their saddles. "That is not your tale to tell," He said pointedly. Gandalf nodded, saying nothing more on the matter. Bilbo looked away awkwardly, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable under the sudden serious gazes of the brothers at the back.

Bilbo looked up the procession to the she-dwarf. Her long dark hair was tied loosely down her back with a thin ribbon of leather; her heavy cloak was thrown over her saddle behind her, too hot to wear in the warm weather.

"I've never seen a lady in trousers before," Bilbo mused to Gandalf. "Is it usual for dwarf-girls?"

"Master Baggins, have you ever worn a dress?"

Bilbo's cheeks reddened as the clear voice from the front called out to him. Iarí looked to the hobbit from over her shoulder, having been listening intently to their conversation. The company of dwarves chuckled and chortled loudly and a small smirk tugged at the corners of Thorin's lips.

"No! No, I most certainly have not!" Bilbo said very quickly to refute the absurd notion.

"Then you do not know how completely impractical they are for fighting in."

"Fighting?" He squeaked, looking incredulous. "You fight?"

Iarí raised a brow. Her weapons on her back were blatant.

"Iarí is a warrior as well, Bilbo." Gandalf cut in before she could speak herself. "She grew up on the road travelling and was taught from a very young age so that she could help protect her family. She's very rare for dwarven female."

She turned her attentions back to the path as Bofur began humming a jaunty tune and general chatter sparked once more, silently hoping that Bilbo Baggins's had made the right decision in joining them. The road ahead would be ruthless for one so naïve.


Author's Note: Blah, ending of this is a bit poo. I'll probably end up editing it in the future.

At this point Iarí pretty much has the same views as Thorin/Dwalin do, but she's more concerned for his safety than anything else. She doesn't think he'll be able to hack it.

Bilbo does the whole sneezing "Wait stop! We have to go back for my handkerchief" malarky after this and Iari internally face palmed.

Iarí's whole depressing part of her back story is all tied up in a neat little bow now so I'm looking forward to focusing on Pre Hobbit chapters with adorable childhood adventures, lots and lots of firsts, and blossoming attractions :3 Yay

So I watched The Almighty Johnsons out of curiosity because Dean O'Gorman is in it... first 5 minutes of the very first episode and BAM -

Hellooooo naked Dean

I seriously need more Anders Johnson in my life. Watch it and you'll see what I mean.

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Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to leave a review and let me know what you think x