They had traveled for most of the day in silence. It had been a while since they had left behind the town where they had dwelt, following the directions given to him by Gandalf the Grey. She had retained only the faintest of memories of the odd Wizard, and thus she had misgivings about his motive. Just where exactly was the Shire and why had they been given instruction to seek out a Hobbitfolk, instead of beginning their journey right away? These were the questions she did not dare voice to Thorin, and yet she could see in his eyes that he carried the same misgivings as she. Aside from the general inquiries into their journey and the specifics of what they would need, she had lapsed into a pensive silence plagued by anxiety. The thought of reclaiming the Lonely Mountain was bold and she was willing to restore the glory of her people. But she alone knew the curse that lay upon her, a curse that she could not speak. To deny Thorin's request for her company without a reasonable cause would dishonor her, and since she could not provide the real reason for her hesitancy, she was resolved to go along and handle any trouble that may rear its ugly head.

By any means necessary.

She hoisted her bags higher on her shoulders as she trod silently behind Thorin, her eyes fixed on his back. Finally, after a full day's travel, they reached the Shire. She pulled herself from her morose mood with some difficulty and dragged her sight along the pretty little town. It was quiet, something that she was not used to, and still. And yet there was a certain charm to the rolling green hills and flickering yellow lanterns strung about.

"This is it," she wondered out loud, staring openly as they passed a circular wooden door. "Is this where the Hobbitfolk bury their dead?"

"No. Hobbits prefer their own company. They're a rather quiet folk," Thorin said gruffly. The last few days had seemed to wear on him. He spoke less and barely even looked at her when he did. It seemed as if every step that brought him closer to The Lonely Mountain was a step toward some unforeseeable doom.

"Gandalf's sure that we need such a...reclusive kind with us?"

To that, Thorin said nothing. After wandering for a few more moments in silence they came upon a door with a blue rune fading slowly into the grain. It was here that Thorin stopped and turned to look Nadi full in the face.

"Keep your wits about you," he warned

She nodded and looked away, the heat of his gaze causing her heart to leap in her chest. Had it been possible that he had heard her innermost thoughts?

But it was too late, for Thorin had already knocked upon the door.

X

Bilbo Baggins stood staring at his dinner table. His dishes had been stacked in neat piles, and all of the crumbs and spills that had accumulated over the course of that strange night seemed to have simply vanished. He heard the Dwarves around him laughing at his expense, for they were the ones who had cleaned the mess in a short amount of time. But he still could not fathom the fact that they, in their revelry, had accomplished such a feat.

"How-" he turned to say when suddenly there was a knock upon his door. He looked up in fright, fearing another round of song and dance from yet another group of Dwarves. Yet when the door opened there stood a solitary figure with his head turned towards something beyond. This Dwarve seemed calmer and indeed (in Bilbo's humble opinion) much more regal than the rest.

The Dwarve dipped his chin slowly and looked at the old Wizard. "Gandalf," he said as he stepped inside, "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. We lost our way, twice. I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

Mark on the door, Bilbo thought in exasperation, what confounded wizardry is this?

"We?" Gandalf said, peering at the Dwarve with some confusion. Hurriedly, Bilbo moved towards the door to inspect it for any signs of cheekery when suddenly another figure stepped into the light. He paused mid-step before a Dwarve much unlike the rest. He watched in surprise as she pulled her hood from her head and shook out a mane of hair the color of dried Autumn leaves. The way that it fell from her shoulders reminded him of scattered ripples in a glittering pond. It was then that she noticed him and they stood for a moment peering at each other with no small degree of wariness. She was darker than the rest; indeed her skin resembled the color of freshly tilled earth. Her cheeks were high and proud, slightly damp and reddish in color. Her lips, full and pulled together in a frown, seemed stuck together as if she was a woman unused to speaking much. Bilbo had never quite seen such a lady before. Her shoulders were broad and heavy, her bare arms tensed and strong as she pushed aside the cloth pinned to her shoulders.

"Who are you?" Bilbo asked incredulously, and quite against his own manners. Her eyes lit up with fury and then suddenly Balin stepped forward and with a wide smile proclaimed, "Nadi!"

Her face softened ever so slightly as she stepped forward and accepted a warm embrace from her fellow Dwarve. The rest of the Dwarves rushed forward and amongst many a clasping of shoulders and meeting of foreheads welcomed her with delight.

"Ah, yes. Of course. I suppose we wouldn't have been complete without the Wandering Dwarve," was all that Gandalf said. A small smile came to the regal Dwarve's lips and he lifted his chin in acquiescence. It was then that he suddenly turned his stormy gaze upon the young Hobbit.

"Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf said, "allow me to introduce you to the leader of our Company: Thorin Oakensheild."

Thorin circled the Hobbit with an appraising eye that betrayed no semblance of appreciation or kindness. "So. This is the Hobbit…"

Out of the corner of his eye, Bilbo noticed that the she-Dwarve had suddenly become very still and seemed to have been rooted to his doorstep. She was staring at the other Dwarves with a terrified expression, her arms held away from her body as if she were about to open his door and run away. But he didn't put too much thought into it, as he felt very intimidated by Thorin Oakensheild in that moment.

"Tell me, Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?" He continued. "Axe or sword, what's your weapon of choice?"

"Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know," he said in a voice that he thought was very brave, "but I fail to see why that's relevant."

"Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar," Thorin said, much to the amusement of the other Dwarves. Nadi turned then and set an alarmed eye upon them. He was ashamed to think that Thorin's view of him might have caused her some sort of grave dissapoinment.

Bilbo watched awkwardly as the Dwarves, with Thorin in their midst, moved into the dining room. He glanced up at Gandalf, but the old Wizard suddenly seemed very preoccupied with avoiding his eye. Gandalf hmphed and with robes swishing, followed the Dwarves into the small dining room. Feeling that he really had no other option in the manner, Bilbo took a few steps forward then, remembering the odd behaviour of the she-Dwarve, turned around to ask if she was quite alright. But he was greeted by a strange sight. There she stood, her head lowered and her body turned away from the Dwarve standing behind her. He remembered the other Dwarves referring to him as 'Kili' or something of a similar manner. Nadi, the she-Dwarve, was breathing heavily as the barely bearded Dwarve moved in closer behind her.

Kili called to her in their language and she closed her eyes tightly, as if struck with a sudden pain.

"Nadi," Kili said in a voice that surprised Bilbo with its tenderness and longing, "will you not even look at me?"

The she-Dwarve bit her lip and, with seemingly great effort, turned around to face him. Their gazes met and held - hers troubled, his confused - until he held his arms out to her and, like a lamb to slaughter, she allowed him to grasp her shoulders. Still, her gaze remained pointed at the floor as he spoke to her in a low voice. After a moment she nodded, twice, and croaked out a single, defeated, 'aye.' As Bilbo watched, she looked up at Kili again and pressed her forehead to his.

"Um...excuse me...Kili...Nadi...your presence is required in the meeting room,"

Both Dwarves looked up in response to Ori's timid voice and it was then that Nadi caught the Hobbit staring at her. Her eyes hardened as Kili dropped their hold and, with a pat on Ori's shoulder, entered the dining room. It was just Bilbo and Nadi then. The Hobbit gulped as she spread her hands along the fabric of her trousers.

"I was just-" he said, and gestured helplessly at nothing. Her eyebrow twitched and for the first time she addressed him in a voice that was low and surprisingly melodic.

"With the way that you stare at me, I should hope that there is not a misses Grocer around."

With a wink, she walked into the 'meeting room.'

X

The night passed with no more revelry. There was no laughter to grace the walls of his home, no cheeky puns and witty jabs. As the moon rose higher in the sky, the purpose of their quest became clearer to him. Indeed, it seemed to grow more dire with every moment that passed. Bilbo's head was purely spinning by the time that he found out that Gandalf had designated him as the official Burglar. A Burglar, he realized with trepidation as he unfolded the contract, who was bound to be decapitated, disemboweled, incinerated, or potentially made into mincemeat by a foul-tempered dragon.

He was quite embarrassed when he suddenly found himself on the floor, looking into the eyes of several disgusted Dwarves as Gandalf gently explained to him that he had fainted.

"No. I won't do it," he reiterated firmly and confidently to any who dared ask. Hands wrapped around a warm mug of tea, toes curling and uncurling along his floorboards, the very thought of the mere existence of Smaug set his teeth on edge. It was a quest that the Dwarves would undertake no matter the circumstances, he understood, but he would not be taking it with them. Even Gandalf's words, as kind and complimentary as they were, could not convince the Hobbit that going out there was in any way more sane than staying right where he was.

The evening passed. Clouds began to engulf the moon, muffling the gentle silver light of the sky. Bilbo could feel himself nodding off, so tired was he from the day's ordeal. The Dwarves had taken up a song before his fireplace. But unlike the earlier day's joviality and cheeriness, the song was haunting and deep. The sound of it reverberated through his body, chilling him to his very bones. Though beautiful, he could not bear its aching melody for much longer.

He stood up quietly, wrapped himself in a blanket, and grabbed his pipe. Fresh air will do me some good, he thought to himself as he stepped outside, dragons and gold and journeys, good riddance!

He sat squarely upon the bench before his door and held a fire to his pipe. The smoky incense rose through his body, and he exhaled a perfect ring at the moon.

"More of what I need," he said, closing his eyes. They flew open again and he muttered a disappointed, "oh" when he realized who had sat next to him.

"I can do that."

Nadi sat hunched down upon herself, a single bright eye cast his way as she watched him quickly wave the smoke from his face.

"Oh. Really," he said, a bit more abrupt than he meant. He hadn't exactly wanted to share his peace and quiet with anybody else, especially not another forsaken Dwarve. "Well, go on, then."

He passed the pipe over to her and she accepted it carefully. As he watched, she inhaled the smoke into her broad lungs, pursed her lips, and fluttered her cheeks. Several large rings emerged from her lips and she smiled. The Dwarven song from within wafted between them like a warm wind.

"I used to really do it. I could make animals and everything."

"Impressive," he said and stuck the stem back in his mouth. And then, because her unguarded expression set him at ease, he said, "you have a very pretty smile, you know."

She glanced sideways at him and then glanced away. "And you're quite handsome, for a Hobbit, I suppose."

He laughed. If it was the best that a Dwarve could give in terms of a compliment, he'd take it. "Thank you?"

She said nothing and he continued to puff away at his pipe, all the while watching her from the corner of his eye. She was carving out the details of what looked like a small wooden bird and he wondered if she had been a toy maker in her other life. There were bristles surrounding her cheek. He would have never noticed them had it not been for their ghostly glintings in the moonlight and the way that she clenched her jaw as she worked.

"Not fond of singing?" He asked. Suddenly she looked up at him with all traces of warmth gone. Her eyes were steady as she looked upon his face and the mute frown seemed to have stretched upon her lip again. "I-I...I just mean...because the others-"

Her fingers jumped to her neck where he noticed a thick scar had bubbled its way along her skin. The scars continued along the back of her hands and along the top of her chest, which was briefly exposed beneath the white cloth as she breathed in. Then just as quickly she pulled her fingers away and sighed.

"No...not fond," she said in a hollow voice. She stood up abruptly, brushed the dirt away from the seat of her trousers, and thanked him for letting her use his pipe. "Are you not fond of adventures?"

He pushed out his bottom lip and shook his head. "Nope. Not fond at all."

She nodded and steadied herself heavily against the edge of his door, her face just as drawn and tired as his own as she gripped the wood. She looked both young and old in that moment, stately and weak as she cast a guarded gaze along his face.

"In the end, Master Boggins, it was the stillness that drove me away from the comfort of my own chambers," she said. The lone sound of Kili's voice reached them from within. She stopped and listened with her eyes turned towards the sky before saying, "Silence is loudest when the birds have stopped singing."

With that she bid him goodnight and retreated to the company of her brethren.

And the next morning, Bilbo woke up to a very silent house, indeed.