Disclaimer: The only character that belongs to me is Esme I've borrowed Mr. Dwalin from Tolkien. Hope you enjoy! Please leave feedback.

First Meeting

Dwalin's POV

Dwalin had been travelling for the best part of two weeks now. He had left Ered Luin early with the intention of being the first to arrive in Hobbiton and suss out their "burglar". He didn't trust Gandalf to begin with when he had approached Thorin about taking back their homeland, but when he had mentioned a hobbit burglar he found himself trusting him even less. Who ever heard of a hobbit burglar?

Dwalin would admit to the fact that he had limited knowledge of the halflings in general but the few he had met whilst passing through the Shire on his way to Bree had been timid, soft creatures that seemed to be afraid of their own shadows. He highly doubted that any of them would have any interest in going on this quest, never mind contemplate facing a dragon at the end of it.

More to the point if Gandalf had in fact found a hobbit willing to do all of this, as he claimed to have done, then was he really a hobbit that they could trust? What would have to happen to a creature like that in the first place to make them even think about coming on this quest? None of it sat right with Dwalin, so he had offered to go on ahead of the rest and make sure that this wasn't some kind of trap.

It was growing dark when he at least reached the outskirts of the Shire so he decided to camp where he was and try finding the hobbit's home in the morning. His sense of direction was bad enough above ground without adding a dark night into the mix. He decided to make camp between a river and a small copse of pine trees and began to settle down for the night.

He had just got a fire going when he thought he heard something in the river just behind him. Turning quickly, he drew his axes, prepared to face anything that may have been trying to sneak up on him. Instead, he saw something struggling in the water. It was dark, but there was definitely something splashing around in there. Fastening his axes back into position, he tried to get a closer look at whatever was in the water. Probably just some unfortunate animal that slipped in while trying to get a drink he decided. He was just about to return to his fire when something broke the water's surface. Were those hands? Before he even had time to think about what he was doing, Dwalin had jumped into the freezing cold river to try help. The current was strong, but he managed to get to get a hold of the struggling person and drag them out of the water to dry land.

The figure lay on the grass gasping for breath. He had his hair cut short and wore strange clothes and boots too Dwalin noticed, so not a hobbit then.

"Are ya alright lad?" he asked.

Reaching forward, he turned over the youth he had just pulled from the river. The face that looked up at him however, was certainly not what he had been expecting. Startled bright green eyes settled on his face and then on his axes.

"Oh, you aren't a lad!"

Esme's POV

One minute Esme was sitting in her bedroom talking to Jenna and the next she was plunged back into the dream again. What had happened? She had been leaning back on her chair she recalled. Had she fallen and hit her head? Maybe she'd finally just lost it altogether and was hallucinating? Regardless of what had happened here she was again.

It was the same dream as always, only everything seemed clearer this time for some reason. The ice-cold water was fast moving, not a lake she thought, this was definitely a river. She felt the biting cold of the water far more than she usually did when she was dreaming. Her arms hurt more from struggling to get out of the water than they normally would have. Her lungs ached from lack of air and she felt more and more like she was actually drowning. Panic started to take over when suddenly, the hands came, they always did. Strong hands grabbed her and pulled her out of the water to safety. Then she was surrounded by the familiar, overwhelming, smell of pine.

This is where she would have normally woken up to find herself staring at her bedroom ceiling, not this time though. This time she didn't wake up, instead, she felt the damp grass under her as she lay there spluttering and gasping for air now that she was out of the water. This was different. She should be awake, why wasn't she waking up?

"Are ya alright lad?" a gruff voice asked her.

Did he just call her a lad? Was he serious? Esme may not have been the prettiest of girls, but she did like to think she looked more like a girl than a boy. Just then those strong hands were on her again, turning her to face her rescuer. As she looked up at his face, Esme gasped. He was like no other man she had ever seen. He was balding and covered in tattoos and scars. Part of one ear was missing and wait were those axes? Who carried axes around?

"Oh, you aren't a lad!"

Esme struggled to sit up, now that she'd gotten over the initial shock she was feeling rather annoyed that this brute could even think she was a boy.

"Of course I'm not a lad! Why would you even think I was!?" she snapped.

The man frowned and looked her up and down gesturing to her clothes.

"If ya don't want to be mistaken for a lad then don't dress like one lass. What's a lass doing wandering around out here alone anyway? There isn't any town of men anywhere around here." he asked, looking around as if to check that she really was alone.

Was this guy for real?

"I am absolutely not dressed like a boy and I wasn't wandering around! I was drowning in case you failed to notice and I don't even know where here is! Wait, did you say town of men?"

The man frowned at her in confusion, "Yes a town of men. You are of the race of men aren't ya?"

Esme could feel panic rising up inside her at his reply. Did he just say race of men? What was he talking about and why hadn't she woken up yet? If this was a dream, it was the most realistic one she had ever had. Maybe she wasn't actually sleeping after all.

"What do you mean the race of men? Aren't we all of the race of men?" she asked.

This statement actually caused the strange tattooed man to laugh.

"Do I look like I'm from the race of men to you?" he questioned, "I'm clearly a dwarf lass. Did you hit your head when you fell in there?"

Had he just said that he was a dwarf? He couldn't really be serious, could he? Esme let her eyes trail over him again. He was short and his tattoos weren't of a style she had ever seen before. His shoulders were broad, very broad in fact, and his clothes were of a strange medieval style. The axes that were strapped to his back weren't the only weapons he carried either, she noticed several daggers strapped to him and large knuckledusters on his hands. Now that she took the time to think about it he didn't really look like any man she had ever seen before. In fact he didn't really look like a man at all.

Esme tried to think back to the books she had read in her mother's study all those years ago. The books she read even though she knew she wasn't meant to. She recalled the pictures she had found in the desk drawers. No, he looked nothing like a man, but he did look exactly like the pictures in that desk. The pictures of what the book had called, a dwarf.

She was starting to feel an all too familiar sense of dread; she was going to have a panic attack. Before she knew it she began to shake all over.

"You're a dwarf? You're really a dwarf? Where the hell am I?" she asked, panicked.

Frowning again, the man ushered her towards the fire to dry off, "You're on the borders of the Shire lass. Though I still don't know what a lass is doing wandering around out here all alone with no means to defend herself in the first place. Sit here by the fire and try to dry out before you freeze to death, you're shivering."

The more the man spoke the more panicked Esme began to feel. This couldn't be happening, could it? It couldn't be real. For so long she had pushed all the memories of her mother away, buried them somewhere in the back of her mind but now they all came rushing back. That weekend. The desk. The book. The lake. Middle earth. Her mother.

"Did you say the Shire? Do you mean in middle earth? Are you serious right now? Oh my God, my mother! Have you seen my mother?"

Dwalin's POV

Dwalin jumped up quickly, "What do you mean, your mother? Was she in the water too? Why didn't you say lass!?"

He was just about to run back to the river when the lass started shaking her head.

"No, no she's not here, she's gone, she's long gone."

With that the lass burst into tears. Dwalin was not an easily frightened dwarf, but if there was one thing that he was terrified of, it was crying women. He stood there frozen, mouth agape, while the lass fell to pieces. What the hell had happened to her?

"Lass, stop that!" he snapped. He hated how harsh he sounded but people showing emotions like this was never something he was comfortable with, "Please." he added as an afterthought.

The lass had pulled her knees up to her chest and was sobbing quietly now but she didn't show any signs of stopping. Not knowing what else to do, Dwalin sat down beside her and placed his hand on her shoulder in what he could only hope was a comforting gesture.

"Lass, please. It'll be alright."

She looked up at him then, her beautiful green eyes filled with tears still. She looked so broken that he wanted nothing more right then than to be able to protect her, to hold her, to fix her, to kiss her. That sudden realisation terrified him even more than the crying had. Where had that thought even come from? He was so stunned by it that he almost missed her barely whispered question.

"Who are you?"

"Dwalin, son of Fundin, at your service," he replied.

She smiled then and Dwalin thought it may have been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"My name's Esme. Well Esmeralda, but nobody calls me that really."

"That's a very pretty name lass. Are ya hungry?"

"I'm starving," she replied.

Dwalin roasted the rabbit he had caught earlier, it wasn't much but she didn't seem to mind and thanked him profusely for it. After that, they fell into a companionable silence. He found he enjoyed her company. She was quiet, she didn't bother him with needless questions like most of the dwarrowdams he'd known in Ered Luin. She was different.

"You really should get some sleep lass. I'm heading on to Hobbiton in the morning; surely we'll be able to find someone there that will be able to help ya."

She smiled at him again and Dwalin decided he could get used to that smile. He gave her his bedroll and she was asleep within minutes. He took a moment to look at her properly now that she was sleeping. Dark brown curly hair framed her face, she had full lips, freckles dotted across her nose and long eyelashes that framed the beautiful green eyes that were now hidden as she slept. She was unusually small for a child of man, being only about his own height. In fact, she could very easily have passed for a dwarrowdam if it weren't for her lack of beard. The clothes she wore were strange and they clung to her in places that really weren't proper, showing off her figure far too much. He would have to find her more suitable attire as soon as possible. Dwalin sighed, she really was a pretty little thing.

"She's far too pretty to be interested in an old dwarf like me."

TBC