The strangest things have happened. I am still trying to believe it as I write, but there are thirteen dwarves, and another creature, a hobbit, he said (though I'm still learning what that is) are staying at our house. Da came just before the lamps were being lit outside, and Bain must have seen him, for he slipped out, no doubt to tell him of the watch on our house. The Master must think that something is amiss, and I was soon to see he was right. Da entered the house, looking tired and worn.

I ran to him and hugged him, telling him I had been worried, while Tilda asked where he had been. Da just hugged us back, and then turned to Bain, saying, "Bring them in."

I was confused, but Bain nodded and hurried down the inside stairs to the wharf room, where Da keeps his fishing things, and where our toilet is. Da remained up in the house, barring the door and hanging his bow in its place, but I followed Bain down the stairs, and so did Tilda.

Without a word, Bain went to the lav and lifted the seat. I tried not to stare as a head emerged from the water, bald, and covered in tattoos. "If you tell anyone about this," something growled, and it took me a moment to realize it was him. Bain reached out a hand to help him, but he swiped it away and told him to get his hands off him. After the first dwarf – for that's what it was – clambered out of the water, slopping wet up the stairs behind him, there came another, and another, and another... I couldn't help but to call out to Da as to why there were dwarves coming out of our toilet. Tilda looked at me and said, "Will they bring us luck?" but I didn't answer. There were thirteen in all, plus the halfling. Dripping wet, tired, cold, and standing in our kitchen.

"Sigrid, Bain –" Da beckoned to us as we trailed up the stairs in confusion after our guests. "Tilda – come here. This is Master –" He stopped short and a dwarf with a long white beard smiled and bowed.

"Balin."

"-Master Balin and his relatives. They are journeying to visit... their kin." He trailed off, and I could tell from the way he said it and from the way the dwarves looked at us that this was just their pretense. "It is a secret that they are here – no one must see them, and you must not speak to anyone about their presence. Is that understood?"

I nodded, and Tilda and Bain did the same. The dwarves are short and heavy of build, with great masses of long hair and thick beards. They looked to be underdressed for the weather – most of them were clad only in simple tunics and trousers – and they were very hungry. They ate all the rest of the stew in the pot, plus anything else I set before them. Tilda and Bain whispered in the corner as Da ran his hands through his hair and joined me in the kitchen.

"I'll never learn all their names," I said to Da under my breath. "Why are they here?"

"They won't be staying long. They wish to be on their way to the Blue Mountains as soon as they can get provisions and weapons."

"Weapons?" This wasn't sounding very safe. "Are you sure?"

Da looked doubtful. "They paid well."

The dwarves ate ravenously, but with very little conversation. Out of the lot, I can only remember enough to write about a few of them. The halfling, of course, I can tell apart, for he is smaller, and has no beard. He is no taller than Tilda, and did not tell me his name, but seems to have very different manners from the dwarves, who have none at all. There is Master Balin, the leader, I think, an old dwarf with a long white beard and small eyes, and he seems to be diplomatic and appreciative of Da's aid. There is the one who seems to be a leader of sorts as well, though his hair is nearly black and he seems mistrustful of everyone. His beard is cut short and he speaks more than the rest, though in a low voice so that we cannot hear. There are a good many others, one with red hair who has the most ferocious appetite I have ever beheld, and then two that seem younger, one with blond hair and the other darker. They seem to be related, but I do not know.

Da apparently promised to give them clothes, so I was told to bring up a deal of the old clothing that I had for mending or repurposing, and a piece was given to each. I did not tell them that some of the waists were actually women's, and they did not seem to notice. The garments were all a little big, but they seemed grateful to be in something dry and not full of holes. I can't imagine what they are doing here, and I wonder if they will ever tell any of us. Da doesn't even believe them.

Right now they are camped out on every inch of our floor, snoring in a symphony of sound that is keeping me awake as I write. After supper, before the fire had burned too low, I gave them all the extra blankets we had to roll up in, and they took them with thanks. Then I sat down on the edge of my bed with this journal to write a bit. Tilda was laying, silent, but still awake on the pillow next to me, and Da had turned in already as well, though I doubt he slept.

I had scarcely begun to put my pencil to the page when a voice stopped me.

"What are you doing, may I ask?" I knew it was one of our guests who had spoken, but it took me a moment to realize which one. A figure pushed himself up on one elbow among the others, and gave me a grin. "Are you drawing?"

I shook my head. "Writing," I said back, not sure whether talking to him was a good idea or not. They may not mean us harm, but they are so secretive that I tend to agree with Da: if they won't trust us too far, we should not trust them too far.

The dwarf was one of the younger two, the one with dark hair and dark eyes. He looks nearer a very short man than a dwarf, because he has only a small amount of beard and isn't as stocky as the others. Maybe they get uglier as they get older. At least that's the only explanation I can think of.

"What are you writing about?" he began, but a noise beside him made him stop, and look down as another dwarf sat up and grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him back down onto the blanket.

"Leave the lass alone, Kili" he murmured. "It's none of your business." His head laid on the floor, the dark-eyed dwarf regarded me with an apologetic smile, crooked, and mischievous, like Bain when he's done something he knows he shouldn't.

Lifting his head again, the dwarf that had talked to the first regarded me in the dimming light, his blue eyes kind.

"Don't mind him, lass," he told me with a smile. "He thinks too much of himself."

I nodded stupidly, not knowing what else to say. He pulled at the neck of the too-large coat he had been given, tugging it atop his shoulder again. "Thank you for making us welcome here," he said at last, his voice a mere rumble above the snores of his companions. "You are very kind."

I nodded, knowing that the dark-haired dwarf still watched and that Tilda lay listening behind me on the bed.

"Da know what he's about, and I just do my best," I managed. That sounds so utterly servile and mindlessly domestic, both when spoken, and when written. But that, unfortunately, was what I said, and even as I write I can't really think of what would have been better.

"Well, on behalf of all of us, I thank you. I didn't get your name, lass." He regarded me with a strange look on his face, and I'm sure I must have been staring because he had to prompt me with, "I'm Fili, and my brother is Kili."

"Sigrid," I said at last, realizing he had asked for my name. "My sister's name is Tilda and my brother -" I stopped short, wondering if Da were awake, and if he would like me telling these strangers our names. But he seemed content enough to settle with mine.

"Then, thank you, Sigrid." His slightly different pronunciation of my name was strange to my ears, but sounded interesting nevertheless. I told him they were welcome, and he lay back down, and was soon snoring with the rest. I have stayed up writing this, and talking to Tilda, who is curious as to why the dwarves' journeying to see their relatives must be a secret. I didn't really answer her, but was trying to see if Da was still awake. I couldn't tell. I hope I was not wrong. Until tomorrow, then.