Chapter Three: Merendë

The small, peeved-looking man peered up at the group standing on his doorstep – three travel-wearied dwarves, a man in a pointed hat, and a bedraggled elf. 'What on earth?' he spluttered.

'Hello,' Dori said. 'I'm Dori. Have we come to the right house?'

'Couldn't be any other,' Nori said from behind him.

'You absolutely have not come to the right house,' the small man – or halfling, the elf supposed – said firmly. 'So if you please, be on your way, and don't –'

'Dori! Nori! Ori!' came a cry from inside, and a white-bearded old Dwarf came into view. 'Finally, someone else has arrived!'

'Balin!' Nori exclaimed, and he pushed past Ori to move inside the house, bowing quickly to the halfling on his way. Ori and Dori followed thereafter, and Gandalf and the elf were left standing on the doormat, the halfling opposite them with his mouth agape.

'I suppose I might as well come in too,' she said half apologetically, ducking and stepping through the round door. 'What is your name?'

'Bilbo Baggins,' the halfling said faintly, looking slightly queasy. 'At your service. Gandalf, please tell me you know how to get rid of these – these – these guests.'

The elf made her way through the hallway, following the dwarves, bent almost double so that she wouldn't hit her head on the ceiling. They came to a small, firelit dining room, and already seated at the table was –

'Dwalin!' Nori roared, and the muscled dwarf got to his feet with an answering roar. The elf winced at the racket, and so did Bilbo.

'I think you have the wrong address,' the halfling was trying to say, but he was drowned out by the excited chatter of the dwarves.

'When did you and Balin get here?' Nori asked Dwalin.

'Not half an hour ago. We thought we were late.'

'We thought we were late,' Nori said. 'So, no sign of the others yet?'

'Others?' Bilbo squeaked.

'Not yet,' Balin said. 'But who's this you've brought with you?'

'This is our elf,' Ori said. 'We were taking her to a healer or some such, but then Gandalf found us and we were already here, so he said she might as well come in.'

'Thorin isn't going to like this at all,' Dwalin growled.

'I did tell her this was none of her business,' Dori said uncomfortably. Dwalin, the biggest dwarf she had ever seen, narrowed his eyes at her, but their standoff was soon interrupted by the other, older dwarf clearing his throat. Dwalin stepped back, and the grey-bearded dwarf bowed to me.

'Balin, at your service,' he said, looking wary.

'I am… at yours,' she replied awkwardly. Gandalf entered the little dining room, bent double like the elf.

'Pardon me,' he said to her, 'but – you really have no memory of who you are?'

She shook her head. 'I woke up a few days ago. I can't… I can't remember anything.'

Gandalf stared at her in silence for a long three seconds, his pale blue eyes boring into her. Then he smiled. 'Well, then, I suppose we'd better think about getting a name for you. Any suggestions from the room?'

'How about… Long-Legs?' Ori suggested.

'Pointy-Ears!' Nori crowed.

'Has-Her-Nose-In-Our-Business,' Dori muttered.

'How about Mebelkhags?' Dwalin sniggered, using a word that the elf assumed was Khuzdul. The dwarves all guffawed at that, and Balin pitched in.

'I've got it! Azshar.'

Dwalin choked on his drink and slapped the table. 'That's the one!'

The elf turned to Gandalf, who was smiling broadly. 'Is it… very terrible?'

'It's much more polite than Mebelkhags or Has-Her-Nose-In-Our-Business,' he said. 'Broadly, it refers to the fact that you do not have a beard.'

'I suppose that's true,' the elf said, and Nori clapped his hands. 'Azshar it is! Pleased to finally make your acquaintance.'

'Gandalf,' Azshar said quietly as the dwarves laughed about her new name. 'Is there any way you might be able to help me? Help me remember who I am, or take me to elves that know me?'

Gandalf hesitated. 'I may be a very old wizard,' he said, 'but I haven't come across very many cases like yours. Memories are dangerous, my dear, so be very cautious about seeking yours.'

'But you don't know what it's like,' she said desperately, pressing her hand to her hollow chest. 'I'm terrified and confused. I don't know who my friends are, and much less my enemies. I think – I think I used to have a family, and they might not know where I am…'

Gandalf was watching her with pity, but at that moment, the put-upon halfling came back in.

'Master Baggins, I don't suppose you have any refreshments?' Ori asked.

'I – well – I don't –'

'The pantry's that way, lad,' Balin said, pointing through a small door. 'I saw a wheel of cheese, bring that out.'

'We might as well all sit down then,' Dori said, pulling out a chair for himself. 'Azshar, you look as though you need a sit down.'

'Not to mention that you're liable to knock yourself unconscious on the ceiling,' Nori added.

'At least she'd have a nice sleep,' Dwalin smirked.

'I used to do that every night,' Balin said morosely. 'Give myself a good knock on the head so I could sleep through Dwalin's snoring.' The table erupted into laughter.

'Do I smell beer?' Dori asked excitedly.

'Ale,' Nori said with satisfaction, setting five tankards of the stuff on the table. 'A bit warm, but lovely.'

'Here's to the quest, then,' Balin said, picking one up.

'And here's the cheese!' Ori announced, emerging from the pantry. Just then, there was a knock at the door.

'Goodness gracious,' Bilbo muttered under his breath. 'Let's go and see how this evening could get worse.'

Azshar bit into a piece of the cheese as he went to open the door. It tasted sharp and overwhelming, and she put it down in favour of the plainer tasting bread. She supposed her tongue was going to take a little while to become re-accustomed to regular eating.

In seconds, Bilbo reappeared looking positively thunderous. He was followed by two new faces, slightly younger-looking and shorter-bearded than the other dwarves.

'Fíli! Kíli!' Dori cried when they came in, and then it was noisy as they all shouted greetings and each other's names. Azshar resisted the urge to put her hands over her ears.

'Wait a moment,' she heard, and she looked up to see one of the new dwarves frowning at her. 'What in Mahal's name is an elf doing here?'

'Dori invited her,' said Dwalin.

'Gandalf invited her,' snapped Dori.

'Wasn't Thorin the one in charge of inviting people?' Fíli said, frowning.

'I always wondered if I could be friends with an elf,' Kíli mused.

'Someone smack him,' said Dwalin. Fíli smacked Kíli on the back of the head and everyone laughed.

'So, what's her name?' asked Fíli.

'And why is she dressed like a corpse?' asked Kíli.

'Her name is Azshar,' said Balin proudly.

'I thought that was just how elves normally dress,' Ori confessed to Nori in a whisper.

'Is there any food to be found around here?' Kíli asked.

'The pantry is that way,' Azshar said, pointing to where Ori had gone before.

'I saw mince pies in there, bring some out,' Ori said.

'And some more ale if you have a free hand,' Nori requested from beside Azshar.

'How did you manage to drink that much ale in so short a time?' she asked him incredulously, and he grinned at her, his moustache white with foam.

'Now, wait just a minute,' the halfling called over the hubbub. 'I'd just like to – excuse me! I'd like to –'

'Hey!' Balin bellowed, and the dining room fell utterly silent. 'The halfling wants to say something, and we are nothing if not courteous guests.'

There was a rumble of agreement, and they all turned to face Bilbo, who suddenly looked more nervous than outraged.

'Well, firstly, we prefer to be called hobbits,' he began pompously. Ori nodded sympathetically. 'And secondly, I just think that I ought to point out that I think there has been an awful mistake.'

'What's the matter?' Fíli asked with concern. 'Are the others not coming?'

Bilbo blinked. 'What? Others? No, the mistake is that I have no idea what seven dwarves, a wizard, and a – a –'

'Elf,' Azshar supplied helpfully.

'– and an elf are doing in my house on a Wednesday night at all. I'm afraid you have the wrong place, and I'd be much obliged if you could be off as soon as possible, and –'

There was a loud knock on the door, and Bilbo turned pale.

'You'd better answer that, lad,' Balin said kindly. 'The others might be here.'

Bilbo spluttered for a second, but far was it from him to leave guests waiting at the door. He trotted off to find them.

'How curious,' Nori said. 'Do you think we're really at the wrong house?'

'Of course not,' Dori replied. 'All of us are here, aren't we?'

'We are at the right house,' Gandalf said with exasperated amusement.

'Gandalf knows what he's talking about,' Fíli said.

'I most certainly do,' Gandalf grumbled with a hint of indignance.

'And besides,' Dwalin added. 'There was the sign on the door.'

'Which was put there by Gandalf, idiot,' muttered Dori.

Azshar listened for the new arrivals at the door, and she could make out faint voices through the bickering of the dwarves at her table.

'… if this is the wrong house, then why are there dwarvish hammers hung on your coat rack?' someone said.

'There are other dwarves here,' she heard Bilbo admit. 'But it's all a mistake.'

'It certainly isn't,' the dwarf replied. 'You have the sign on your door.'

'Excuse me?'

'You know, the sign that Gandalf put there. Burglar, looking for work, keen on adventure, that sort of thing. That's how it's usually read.'

'You have a sign for that?'

'Anyhow, my brother Óin and I would like to come in if you don't mind,' the dwarf said, and Azshar heard Bilbo protest and the door squeak wider open.

'New arrivals!' Kíli announced cheerfully.

A burly dwarf with a wild red beard and another with a beard of black and white – and an axe head buried in his skull – appeared in the doorway, and the room erupted into cheers.

'Óin and Glóin!' Balin bellowed, getting up to hug them. 'About time!'

'We were lost,' the red-haired one, Glóin, said. 'And Óin was no help.' Óin glared at him, and Glóin shrugged with a grin.

'Sit down and have some ale,' Fíli said, passing two flagons across.

'We're going to have to ration that out, or there will be none left by the time Thorin gets here,' Dwalin said, surprisingly clearly after shoving an entire mince pie into his mouth.

'Is there any food?' Glóin asked.

'In the pantry,' Nori said, pointing.

'I'll get it,' Dori offered, getting to his feet.

'There were some pork sausages in there,' Kíli said. 'Bring them out.'

'I'm going to be eaten out of house and home,' Azshar heard Bilbo groan from the corner. It was getting very full around the dining table, which was not designed for as many people as it currently supported, so it took a while for the new arrivals to notice her. Óin saw her first, a frown furrowing his brow, and he elbowed Glóin in the side and pointed.

'Who's this then?' Glóin asked suspiciously.

'Azshar,' she said. 'At your service.' Óin snorted, amused by the name.

'She seems alright for an elf,' Kíli said.

'Kíli wants to make friends with her,' said Fíli. Kíli frowned and swatted at him.

'Gandalf invited her,' said Nori.

'Nori brought me here though,' said Azshar, copping an elbow in the ribs from Nori. She grinned, and both Óin and Glóin stared at her in confusion. Glóin looked like he had more questions, but he also looked like there was a full tankard of ale in front of him, and he knew his priorities. He chose the ale.

'I hope the others aren't lost,' Ori said. 'It must be properly dark out there by now.'

'They'll be here,' Dwalin grunted through a mouthful of sausage.

'Can I ask,' the Hobbit said weakly, 'how many more of you will be coming tonight?'

'That depends,' Balin said. 'Does anyone know if Bofur is still coming after he got stung by those bees?'

'How would we know?' Nori asked.

Just then, there was another knock at the door. Azshar listened for voices.

'…I don't want any more visitors! Not one!' Bilbo was spluttering. 'This is all a terrible mix-up, and not respectable at all!'

'That's a shame,' came a dwarvish rumble. 'In any case, I'm Bifur, at your service.'

'And Bofur,' came a second voice.

'And Bombur!' came a third. 'Can I smell sausages?'

Bifur, who looked like he'd just emerged from living alone in the wild for twenty years, Bombur, who was the size of two dwarves, and Bofur, who had a round, friendly face, all appeared in the doorway of the dining room. There was a chorus of cheers from the dwarves around the table.

'Finally!' Glóin bellowed. 'What took you so long?'

'We were lost,' Bifur said. 'Is Thorin here yet?'

'Not yet,' Dori said.

'No harm done then,' Bofur said, squeezing in to sit between Fíli and Kíli.

'There will be harm done if I don't get something to eat,' Bombur proclaimed. 'I'm half starved.'

'You look it,' Fíli said, and all the dwarves – including Bombur – roared with laughter.

'What's she doing here?' Bifur asked, pointing at Azshar.

'Hello,' she said. 'I'm Azshar. It's Nori's fault.'

'Gandalf brought her here!' Nori protested.

'Well, it's a nice surprise,' Bofur said, a smile pasted on his friendly face.

'Speak for yourself,' Nori muttered, and Azshar tossed a bread roll at him. It hit him right in the eye, and nearly sent him backwards off the bench. She covered her mouth with her hand, unable to help laughing, and was joined by most of the dwarves.

'Lovely shot!' Kíli shouted.

'Here, Óin,' Bifur called, holding out a grape. Óin opened his mouth, and Bifur threw the grape across the table and straight in, eliciting another raucous cheer. Twelve dwarves seized whichever piece of food was closest to them and prepared to throw it –

'Just a moment!' Gandalf interjected. 'You don't want to offend your gracious host now, do you?'

'Thank you,' said the hobbit weakly.

'Here, pass us the honey, Fíli,' Dwalin said.

'Oh – not by me, please,' Bofur said, pinching his nose with his finger and thumb.

'He hasn't been able to stomach the smell of honey since the Bee Incident,' Bifur explained to Dwalin as the honey went the long way around the table instead.

'Bilbo,' Gandalf said. 'I wouldn't mind a glass of red wine, if you have any.'

'Gandalf, really, there's been the most awful mix-up –'

'Not at all, my lad. The wine?'

Bilbo flushed red and hurried away.

'Well, that should be everyone here,' said Gandalf, settling back.

'Everyone but Thorin,' Balin said. Gandalf craned his neck.

'Let's see… Dwalin and Balin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Fíli and… oh yes, there's Kíli… Óin and Glóin – yes, hello Óin – Ori, Nori, Dori… and our new friend Azshar.'

The eyes of the twelve dwarves were back on her, and Azshar shifted in her seat, the light-heartedness that had come with bickering with the dwarves draining out of her. She resisted the urge to rub at her chest.

'Thorin won't be happy she'd here,' Dwalin warned.

'Hm,' Gandalf said, but then Bilbo was back with his red wine, and he turned away. Azshar exhaled slowly and turned to Bombur on her left.

'Is Thorin a very… forgiving person?' she whispered.

'Mm frrp rffmm mrrfldan,' he replied.

'Don't mind him,' Bifur said from Bombur's other side. 'He's not as good at talking with his mouth full as Dwalin is.'

She turned to Nori, who was sitting at her right. 'Nori.'

'Hmm?'

'What is Thorin like?'

'Oh, he's pretty much harmless if he likes you,' he said unconcernedly. Azshar raised an eyebrow.

'And if he decides not to like me?'

'He's a very bad enemy to have.'

'Right,' she said, sitting back in her seat and glancing over at Gandalf. He had a long white beard that she was sure even the dwarves were impressed by, and his eyebrows were like none she'd ever seen– they were even bushier than Glóin's, and they stuck out from his face in an eye-catching manner. She wondered why he'd insisted she go with them to Bag End.

'What a team!' Bofur was saying. 'The dragon won't know what hit it.'

'Erebor will be ours within the year,' Dwalin agreed in a growl.

'There's quite a way to go before we get there though, isn't there?' Ori said. 'Mountains and plains and elf-forests and all that. I've been studying the maps.'

'Of course you have,' Dori said, throwing a grape at him.

'Elf-forests?' Azshar said hopefully.

'Can someone pass me the bread?' Balin asked.

'Thorin knows the way,' Glóin said confidently. 'He'll guide us there, sure enough. He's done it before.'

'Are you sure?' Bifur said with a grin, 'because he is very late, and this place wasn't that hard to find…'

'Thorin isn't lost,' Dwalin snapped.

'In any case,' Gandalf cut in, 'I have decided I might travel with your company a little way at first, to help you get your bearings.'

There was a chorus of cheers, and Nori lifted up his tankard. 'To our wizard – and to our burglar!'

'The wizard and the burglar!' the others repeated, all drinking deeply.

'Which one of you is the burglar?' Azshar asked, confused.

'He's right there,' Kíli said, pointing over at Bilbo, who was all but cowering in the corner. 'Didn't you see the sign on the door?'

'Wait a moment,' Bilbo said, looking vaguely panicked. 'What's this about burgling?'

But they were prevented from answering his question by a loud knock at the door. Everyone fell silent, and for a second the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire.

'Best go get that, Bilbo,' Gandalf said, patting the Hobbit on his curly head. Bilbo left the room, and Azshar started to listen. She heard the door open.

'Hello,' Bilbo squeaked, not daring to voice his indignation this time.

'Are you the burglar?' came a resonant voice.

'Er…'

'I am Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror,' Thorin said. 'Are the others here?'

'Yes,' Bilbo said weakly. 'They're in here.' She heard the door close, and footsteps approach. Seconds later, Thorin appeared.

He struck an imposing figure, even in the homeliness of the tiny hobbit-hole; he was nearly as tall as Dwalin, and just as broad. He was wearing a large axe, and carried a shield on his back. His cloak was lined with fur, and his dark eyes were bright and sharp. He regarded them all for a moment – perhaps doing a silent headcount – and then his majestic gaze landed on Azshar and darkened.

'What is this?' he growled.

'Oh dear,' Dori said, hiding his face behind a slice of bread. No one else seemed inclined to speak, so Azshar cleared her throat.

'Hello,' she said quietly, her hand edging toward the hilt of her sword. 'I was – in need of help, and Gandalf invited me.'

'That makes no sense,' Thorin said.

'I don't mean to intrude,' she promised. 'I'll see to it that I'm out of your way.'

'No,' he said abruptly. She frowned.

'No?'

'Absolutely not,' Thorin snapped. 'We have dwarf business to discuss here tonight, and you will not be a party to that.'

'Thorin,' Gandalf interjected. 'I have facilitated this meeting, have I not?' Thorin nodded once, tearing his eyes from Azshar. Gandalf went on. 'In fact, I have done more than my fair share in organising this quest, have I not?'

'What is your point?' Thorin asked stiffly.

'The elf is here on my invitation. And she is non-negotiable.'

Thorin turned back and studied her for a long few seconds. Azshar stared back. She wondered if Thorin knew anything about who she was, but she quickly dismissed the thought. It seemed clear enough that he just didn't like her. Finally, he sighed.

'Very well. But if anything comes of this, I will hold you responsible, Gandalf.'

'As you ought,' Gandalf replied. 'Now, have you eaten?'

'There's more food in the pantry,' Bombur said.

'I'll get it,' Dori sighed, getting up again.

'Dori, if you can find that leg of ham, you might as well bring out the whole thing,' Glóin said.

'Bilbo, is there more of that red wine?' Gandalf asked. The miserable hobbit got to his feet and trudged out to find the bottle.

After the food, there was music. The dwarves each produced an instrument of some kind – Ori, Nori and Dori all produced little flutes, Fíli and Kíli had a fiddle each, and Bombur brought out a drum. The rest of them sang raucously, and Azshar clapped at the end, smiling despite herself.

The noise and chaos made her feel better. She hadn't thought about her lost memories for hours now, or rubbed at her chest to get rid of the empty feeling. She tried not to stare over at Gandalf, or dwell on the prospect of him bringing her to the elves. One step at a time, she thought.

Bilbo had brightened up a little at the prospect of music, but he drooped again at the prospect of cleaning up, until Fíli and Kíli noticed. The two brothers stood, and began stomping their feet in some kind of rhythm.

'Come now, lads!' Fíli called, and the other dwarves laughed and –

And began throwing their plates.

'Oh dear,' Azshar said, hiding a smile.

'Please, no,' Bilbo groaned at the same time. Gandalf started to chuckle.

Everyone save Gandalf, Thorin and Azshar got up to help violently clear away the meal, but it only took a few seconds before she wished she'd gotten up to help too. Both the wizard and the dwarf had fixed their gazes on her, and were watching her unflinchingly.

Thorin's face was like stone, unyielding and hostile. He looked at Azshar like she was something unsavoury he'd found on the bottom of his boot. Gandalf stared at her too, but his face was unreadable; his bushy eyebrows were drawn together, like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

She reached up to hold the locket around her neck. 'How old are you?' she asked Gandalf, breaking the silence.

'Older than you,' Gandalf said. Azshar frowned.

'Do – do you know how old I am?'

'Well, I'm older than most people,' the wizard said. 'It's an educated guess.'

Her hands clenched into fists, and she tried not to bang them on the table in frustration. She needed to find someone who had an idea of what was going on, and some part of her suspected Gandalf was the right place to start – but only if he decided to cooperate.

'I need help,' she said quietly, holding his eye and ignoring Thorin's curious eyes. 'Please, tell me what you know. Please.'

Gandalf's pleasant smile faded a little, and he looked thoughtful. 'Like I told you,' he said, 'meddling with memory is a very dangerous thing to do. Why don't you start by telling me what you remember?'

She looked down at her clenched fists. 'I – I woke up in a cave on the coast. I was buried in a landslide of rock. I don't know how long I was buried there, but I forced myself out a few days ago. I can't say how long ago for sure, I lost conscience for a while.'

'How did you come to be in Hobbiton?' Gandalf asked.

'A fisherman and his wife brought me here. Then I crossed paths with Dori, Nori and Ori.'

Thorin harrumphed and shook his head. 'This can wait, surely,' he rumbled, glancing over at Gandalf. 'Or take place elsewhere. I have other things to discuss tonight.'

'Certainly, Thorin, certainly,' Gandalf said placatingly, looking like he was trying to suppress a smile. 'It sounds as though your company has almost finished cleaning up now anyway.' He was right; the twelve dwarves filed back into the room and squeezed back into their spots around the table – followed by an emotionally exhausted looking Bilbo.

'Thank you kindly for all your help,' Nori said to Azshar sarcastically as he sat down on the bench beside her.

'I was too busy being glared at by Thorin,' she muttered back.

Nori snorted. 'Ah, don't worry yourself about it, lass,' he said. 'We've all been on the receiving end of one of those looks at one time or another.'

'Reassuring, thank you.'

'Shh, we're starting!'

A hush fell over the table as Thorin stood up and spread out a map on the freshly cleared table, using four flagons of ale to prevent the corners from curling in. He pointed to a little mark on the map, his finger connecting with the table with a dull thud.

'Erebor,' he said simply, and there was an intake of breath from around the table. Azshar narrowed her eyes; he was pointing to a little triangle on the map. The Lonely Mountain that Ori had mentioned, she realised. Their homeland.

'For too long, we have been kept from our own home, force to be nothing but refugees in the wild.' There was a murmur of agreement. 'Dwarves that were once warriors became toymakers. Our proud people were reduced to selling trinkets in villages of men, becoming common blacksmiths not to create anything beautiful, but to shoe their horses and to link their chains.'

Beside her, Azshar felt Nori's hands curl into fists. She felt a pang of pity for the dwarves around her.

'No more,' Thorin said. 'Here is our chance to reclaim the place where we belong. This is our chance to retake our home.' The room erupted with roars, and the table bowed under the weight of banging fists.

'Quiet now, lads!' Balin called over the ruckus, and they all fell silent again.

'Here is the plan,' Thorin said, moving his finger over the map to a spot marked Shire – where they were now, Azshar realised. 'We go east from here, through the Trollshaws. We cross the Misty Mountains, steering clear of Khazad-dûm.'

'Why can't we –' Bofur began, but Thorin cut him off.

'Not our fight yet, Bofur,' he said. 'We retake Erebor. That is our only goal here.'

'What happens after the Misty Mountains, then?' Ori asked. 'Will we go north to avoid Mirkwood, or cut through it?'

Thorin hesitated, turning back to the map. 'We should go through,' he said, 'to save us weeks of travelling…'

'But the elves have control of the forest,' Dwalin finished for him.

'Control is a strong word for it,' Gandalf said. 'But you would do better to put aside your petty grievances and go through the wood. Dislike is not a good enough reason to go to the effort of walking around the biggest forest in Middle-earth. And besides, the elves with be the least of your problems in that place.'

'We will cross that bridge when we come to it,' Balin said placatingly. 'There is still a long way to go before then.'

'Once we reach the Long Lake,' Thorin went on, 'we will regroup in Esgaroth. Then we will go on to the Mountain. That's where our burglar comes in.'

'Where I what?' Bilbo said, jerking upright from where he'd been sitting half asleep.

'We will send the halfling –'

'Hobbit, if you please –'

'– into the Mountain, to see the dragon.'

'What?!'

'If it's even still alive,' Bombur said hopefully.

'How are we to get in?' Glóin asked. 'Surely the beast knows all the passageways and paths in and out by now.'

'I might be able to help with that,' Gandalf said, reaching inside his grey cloak and pulling out a big, metal key. Thorin inhaled sharply and all but snatched it from Gandalf's hands.

'Where did you get this?'

'From your father, Thrain,' Gandalf said. 'It is a long story, and I am much too comfortable to bother telling it now.'

'Legend has it that there are moon-letters written on this map that speak of a key-hole,' Thorin breathed. 'This key…'

'Another bridge to be crossed when the time comes,' Gandalf said. 'And one that might be made a lot easier by knowing what the moon-letters say.'

'Well, that's that then,' Balin said. 'Apart from knowing how to read moon-writing, we have a plan, and a good one. When do we leave?'

'First light,' Thorin said, rolling up the map. 'I suppose you have packed, Master Burglar?'

Bilbo blinked, stupefied, and Gandalf nodded. 'We'll see to it, won't we Bilbo?'

The hobbit spluttered. 'I – what – how –'

'Excellent,' Thorin said. 'Fíli, Kíli, where are your fiddles?'

Their meeting apparently complete, the dwarves migrated to be closer to the fire and began to sing, their deep voices mingling to create a sound that vibrated through the room, and deep in Azshar's chest. She let her eyes drift closed. She was exhausted.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold…

'Azshar,' came a voice, and she jerked her head up to see that Gandalf was watching her again.

'Yes?'

'Why don't we continue our discussion?' he said.


Yet another very silly cliffhanger – I promise I'll try to post the next update soon so that the flow of the story isn't interrupted! Stay tuned for the next update, featuring Gandalf's thoughts on whether or not Wizards do Spells, Bilbo's spare room, giving weapons to children, scarecrow fashion, stranger danger, and finally, Azshar's true identity (a horse girl).

As always, all my gratitude to those of you who have followed, favourited and reviewed. See you soon.

S