Hermione's head twisted left, right, up and down as Dwalin, the rather grumpy dwarf she had met her first time here, led her to what would be her new home for the foreseeable future. The city was amazing. There were a few ancient cities from her own time and places that could boast of small towns built into the sides of mountains, but she had never seen anything quite like this!

Last night when she had been rather rudely dragged in from the snow by an exuberant guard, she had been so ill and cold from her abrupt departure from her bed that she had not had the wits about her to truly take in her surroundings. Now that she was warm and well fed, however, she was able to see just what she had missed.

It was a miniature city, from what she could tell, built completely into the hard stone of what she assumed was a mountain. There were a few small shops that they passed by, and plenty of doorways that looked like they led into homes. The streets were relatively quiet, however, and they only passed by a few other dwarves who all stared at her as they passed.

Hermione could feel herself blush slightly at the surprised and slightly wary stares that were directed towards her. The last group of dwarves had seemed to almost openly glare at her, and once they had passed Hermione quickened her pace to walk beside Dwalin, rather than trail behind him as she took in her surroundings.

"You don't get many visitors here, do you?" she asked in a low voice, keeping her eyes out for any other unfriendly dwarves they might stumble across.

"No," Dwalin replied bluntly, before quickening his pace even more. They were nearly jogging, and Hermione could practically feel the tension rolling off of her guide.

Determining that Dwalin was less than inclined to speak with her, Hermione kept her mouth shut as they hurried down a narrow side street. Hermione was thinking that Dwalin must be yet another dwarf that was not going to take a visitor kindly when he stopped rather abruptly in front on an unlit door.

Hermione stopped beside him and stared up at the rock face that the door was carved into. There were a few windows surrounding it, but the entire front of the rock face seemed, if possible, more unkempt that the houses they had passed on the main wide street that they had been walking down before.

"Here we are," Dwalin said gruffly as he pushed his way up the few steps and through the heavy timber door. The little light that had been flowing into the narrow side street was all but swallowed up as she stepped into the front room of the house. She had to squint to see where Dwalin had went to, and from the very faint light that was struggling in through the dirty window; Hermione saw that he was stooped over a hearth.

A few moments later the warm light of the fire flicker round the room, and Hermione got her first good look at her new accommodations. They were nothing to write home about.

The accommodations were almost as simple as those she had seen in Thorin's workshop when she had first arrived in this strange world. There was a small table that sat under the window, with two chairs pushed neatly up to it. Another desk sat in the corner closer to the fire and an empty shelf stood beside it along with a sizeable stack of firewood. On the empty wall, a stairway carved of stone led up to what Hermione could only assume was a bed chamber.

It was small, dirty, and lacked even the smallest item to make it feel at all homely.

If Dwalin noticed her distaste for the place, he ignored it completely.

"Let's set down some ground rules now, lass," he said, his deep voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "You are close to the gates. Just down the road back to the main road we were on before, take a left and the gate is no more than a minute walk away. You can go to the gates whenever you wish. It takes the men and elf folks queerly sometimes to be staying under the mountain," he explained with an unconcerned shrug. "Your meals will be brought to you here, and we will not be suffering you wandering wherever you please."

"So I am to stay cooped up in here?" Hermione interrupted, not liking at all the way in which this conversation was progressing.

"No, I did not say that," Dwalin said with a frown. "Just that we do not wish you to be traveling deep into Ered Luin. If you feel you must wander, keep it to the front of the mountain. Do not wander any further than the guardhouse, and you will be fine." He paused, his eyes raking over her face before he continued, his tone hardening again. "And we will not have you be causing any trouble with your magic. Do that, and you will be back out in the snow."

"Fine," Hermione said stiffly.

"Good," Dwalin grunted. Hermione stepped out of his way as he pushed past her to the door. "Someone will be by with dinner later, and to take a list of whatever items you might be needing."

"How long will that be?" Hermione found herself asking as she peered out of the window. There was, as far as she could tell, no way to tell what time it was.

"Another few hours," Dwalin said gruffly as he stepped out onto the street. "Remember. Don't wander far." And with that, he pulled the door shut behind him, leaving Hermione standing in the middle of the room alone. Hermione stared at the closed door, shocked slightly by the feeling of abrupt aloneness. She huffed slightly, before turning back from the door, and taking in the room once again.

There really was not much in it. Taking a closer look at the contents of the room, she saw that the desk held a small candleholder and candle stick, and that there was a flint on the fireplaces mantle. There were no culinary items in the room, and after rummaging through the drawers of the desk, Hermione found that there was only an abandoned quill and a few scraps of parchment left within it.

She ventured upstairs and found that it was in fact a bedchamber and behind a small curtain she found the water closet. Sitting on a small end table in the room was also a small jug and basin, which Hermione assumed was for water, though where she was supposed to go in order to fill it, she had no idea. The bed itself looked to be a mattress filled with straws, and Hermione could not help but slightly wrinkle her nose at the simpleness of the entire home.

She had made her way back downstairs and looked around once more at the empty room, when the panic began to catch up with her. Before this, her situation had no permanence to it, and things had been changing at such a rate that she had not had much idea as to what her immediate future would hold for her. Now, however, she was faced directly with what the upcoming weeks would hold. A dreary house, with little in the way of company, based upon the reaction she had gotten from the number of dwarves that she had passed on the way here.

She slumped into the chair by the window, and could not help it as her thoughts drifted back to her friends. Surely by now they had found that she was gone again. A whole week, or maybe even a month might, in fact, have passed by, and she would have no way of knowing. Hermione could feel her throat going dry and tightening, but she resolutely kept a stiff upper lip and avoided letting herself fall into tears.

The last time she had been here, there had been such uncertainty in what had happened. Now, though, she knew exactly what had happened. She was stuck in another world with no way of getting home in the foreseeable future. When she got back, her friends and family would be far older than she was, and there was not a thing she could do to stop that.

Shaking her head, she resolutely put a stop to that train of thought. It would do her no good to dwell on it. Nothing would change. Instead Hermione found herself glancing out the window. If the dwarves had meant to seclude her, they had chosen a good spot to do so. The narrow street boasted of few other houses and shops, and all of them appeared to be lacking tenants. She could see down the street, opposite of the direction they had come, and saw that it ended into a solid wall of stone. The only way back out was the way they had come.

Turning her attention back to matters at hand, though. Hermione thought about what Dwalin had said. Someone would be coming to get a list of things that she needed.

Pushing up the sleeve of the dress that the guards had provided her with, as they had all but baulked at the night gown she had shown up in, Hermione pulled out her wand. She had never been more thankful for the fact that the war with Voldemort had made her accustom to always wearing her wand in its harness. She had, of course, taken to even sleeping with it on once she had learned the nature of the curse she was under.

Setting the wand on the table, she reached over her head and pulled off the necklace she had been wearing. It was a very handy piece of magic, even more advance than the bag she had carried during the search for the horcruxes. On a small length of chain was what looked like a small pendant of a bag. In actuality, it was a very practical bag that could be shrunken and grown, despite the charms that made its insides bottomless. It had taken Hermione all but a week of carrying around her old bottomless bag to determine that she needed something a little more practical. It had taken her another three months to work out the arithmancy necessary to combine the shrinking, weightless and bottomless charms, but the result had been absolutely fantastic.

Tapping her wand to the bag now in question, Hermione watched as it grew to the size of a rather large carpetbag. Her first order of business was to get into some of her own clothing. The dress they had been able to procure for her was fine, but it reached no further than her knees, and the cold that seemed to permeate the halls of stone left her wanting for sturdier garments.

She pulled open that bag and ran through her mental list of its contents. When packing it, Ginny, Harry, Ron and herself had tried to come up with everything that she might need. There was a tent for camping, cooking supplies, potions, reference books, and clothing. There were other odds and ends as well such as a rather plain dagger to replace the one she had lost when traveling back to her world and a pack that was similar to the one she had originally traveled with, in case she ever needed to disguise the fact that she carried everything she needed in the necklace that hung around her neck.

With a quick accio, Hermione had a much heavier set of pants and sweater on, and folded the dress up. She intended to give it back to whoever had originally lent it to her. After this, another quick warming charm on her clothing and the stone floor left her feeling much better.

It was with another glance at the dirty windows, and dusty contents of the room, that Hermione wished she had spent more time listening to Mrs. Weasley's instructions on cleaning charms. Ginny, who had them drilled into her head ever since she was a small girl, usually took care of such charms around Grimwauld and Hermione had never paid it much mind. Now looking at the shabby interior of the place she was going to live for the foreseeable future, she cursed her inattentiveness.

With a long swish of her wand, Hermione carefully pronounced the words of the unpracticed charm to get rid of the dust that clung to the surfaces throughout the room. There was a brief feeling of wind ripping through the room, and when the air settled the room did look slightly less dusty, although she could still see some clinging to the junctures of the wall and floor.

Sighing to herself, she sat back down in her chair and reshrunk her bag, putting it around her neck.

Sitting in her one chair, Hermione bemoaned the fact that she had not considered to pack anything in her bag to stave off boredom. With nothing for her hands to do, her mind wandered.

Mostly she felt the pang of loss, and she thought of her friends.

But her mind also focused on those she had met thus far. Thorin and Dwalin. She had not thought about them much since being introduced to the house, as her immediate surroundings had preoccupied her. But now, that she had done what little settling in she could, her mind turned to them.

Dwalin was much like she had remembered him. He was still gruff, and unfriendly, his lack of trust readily apparent.

Thorin seemed different though. When it had been revealed that he was a prince, she had almost laughed out loud. 'Thorin, a prince?' her mind had said. But, now that she saw him here in this place she was more apt to believe it. The dusty traveling cloak and dirty clothing had been replaced with a set of fine clothing and adornments. They had certainly made him look more kingly.

And his countenance had seemed slightly different as well. While they had traveled, he had certainly not seemed jovial, but he had at least seemed content. Here, during the brief time they had spent together, he had seemed distracted. He had not even stayed long enough to ask much in regards to how she had been. After a few questions were answered he had simply left her in the care of Dwalin and gone back to whatever tasks filled his day here.

It did not quite hurt, but Hermione had always expected that if their paths had crossed once again, they would have at least met as friends rather than near strangers.

There was nothing for it now, of course. She had no idea where he might be. In all likelihood he was deep within the small city, passed the guardhouse where she was not allowed to go. She would not put it past Dwalin to keep to his word and throw her out into the snow if she did not heed his warnings. It would have to be him coming to her, or else she was sure she would likely never see him again unless he came to find her.

She was about to get up to put another log onto the fire when there was a knock at the door. Turning away from the woodpile Hermione walked to the door and opened it, unsure as to who to expect.

It was an older dwarf that stood on her doorstep, his hair white. He gave a polite nod of his head and held up the bag in his hands.

"Good evening," he said politely. "I am Balin."

"Hermione," she said as she stepped out of the way and let the older man in.

He bustled into the room and set the sack carefully onto the table. "I have your dinner here with me, and have come to also answer any questions you might have about your stay with us, as well as get the list of anything you feel you might be needing," he explained as he dug open the sack. "But before all of that, let us eat."

Hermione could feel her stomach gurgle happily at the thought of food and she hoped that Balin had not heard it. Instead she gave him a friendly smile and glanced down at the large package he carried. He had set it on the table and was in the process of unwrapping a large loaf of bread. Unsure what to do with herself, Hermione pulled out the chair at the table at sat down.

Once Balin had pulled out a clamped pot out of his hefty bag, as well as two bowls and spoons, he sat down himself and began unclamping the lid. "I do hope that stew is okay with you, Madame," he said as he began to dish out the thick contents of the pot.

"Of course," Hermione said, taking the bowl proffered to her. "Right now, I am hungry enough to each just about anything."

"Well then, I am glad that Bombur packed us a large pot," Balin said with a smile of his own. They drifted back into a slightly stilted silence, both taking the time to become accustom to one another. Hermione was under no illusions that she presented something of an oddity to the dwarves under the mountain, and she could feel the dwarfs penetrating gaze linger on her as she ate. She herself stole more than one long look at her guest though.

He was older than either Thorin or Dwalin, though he looked to be rather well dressed. At least better than a number of other dwarves she had noticed on her walk here. They obviously weren't sending a kitchen hand to deliver her meals.

She was about to take another bite, when Balin broke the silence. "How are you finding your stay with us thus far?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.

Hermione finished taking her bite and chewed thoughtfully. "It has been fine," she said truthfully. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't great either.

Balin nodded as though he had expected that much to be the case. "The accommodations Dwalin found for you are a bit," he paused looking around with a wry smile, "sparse. I will have someone stop by with a few more things to make the place more comfortable. Is there anything in particular that you need? I understand that you were found with very few possessions on you."

"Do you have any books? Something to keep myself busy with? The prospect of being here for weeks with nothing to do is a bit daunting," Hermione admitted easily.

Balin hummed while he considered this before giving her a small shake of his. "The small library that we have here has no books in the common tongue that I am aware of. Thorin has a small collection of his own though. He may possibly have something in the common tongue that you could borrow," he explained as he tugged meditatively on the end of his rather long beard. "I will ask around for you, and maybe we can think up some other things to help keep you occupied."

"Thank you," Hermione said, the gratitude easily discerned in her voice.

"No problem at all," Balin replied with a wave of his hand. "Is there anything else that I can do for you? Any other questions I might answer?"

Hermione pulled her eyebrows together, thinking briefly before answering. "Is there somewhere I can get water? I saw the jug upstairs, but nowhere to tap from."

"Aye," Balin said with a quick nod. "Just back out on the main road. There are pumps every thousand paces or so."

Hermione nodded back her understanding, as she watched Balin pulled a piece of parchment from his breast pocket. "One last thing, lass, before I will be leaving you to rest for the evening. His highness has invited you to sup with his family two evenings from now," he explained as he passed the sealed parchment to her. "There will be someone along that evening to escort you to the royal residence."

Hermione stared at the parchment now held lightly in her hands. It made her feel slightly light headed to think about meeting his entire family. He had not talked much of them, but from what she recalled he had described his sister and her boys as being quite a handful.

"Alright," she said, keeping her voice light. "I will be looking forward to it."

"Very good, Lass," Balin replied brightly. "Well, I'll be taking my leave of you now. I am sure we will run into each other again in the future." And just like that, he had gathered up his few belongings that had remained on the table and was giving her a short bow of his head.

"Have a good evening," Hermione replied politely, a short bow of her own head.

The door swung shut behind Balin with a rather loud bang, and Hermione was left sitting at the table looking down at the piece of paper sitting lightly within her grasp. So he wanted to see her after all. A small smile made its way across her lips and she found that she was rather looking forward to seeing him again despite the rather brief and impersonal reunion that they had shared earlier.

note: another chapter. I apologize that it took me so long. This chapter is the longest yet for this story but really is not terribly exciting and I struggled with it for quite a while (as you can tell by the lack of updates.) I didn't ever really read through it very carefully, so again I apologize if there are many errors.

I am hoping that the next chapter comes along a bit better. Until next time, thanks for reading!