AN: Have another pair of chapters, don't expect me to publish anything for a while. But who knows, I might surprise you either later today or tomorrow morning.
Again, don't own Skyrim or the Hobbit, and all of you should go read Demon-Kagetsuki's version of this before mine. I'm just rewriting and continuing.
Brænna's throat closed up as she tried to greet the guests. Her mind raced, trying to come up with plausible explanations or scenarios in which she wouldn't get killed by the rather threatening young men before her.
Don't worry, don't show any fear, hopefully this is just how he looks at everyone.
"Fíli," the blonde one said, pausing, then roughly elbowing the other.
Glaring at the other, the black-haired one said, "Kíli."
Both bowed, and said, "At your service" at the same time, though Kíli mumbled his greeting.
Beaming, Fíli asked, "Is Mr. Boggins home?"
From behind her, she heard Bilbo say, "Nope! You can't come in, you've come to the wrong house!" as he shoved past her attempting to close the door.
Blocking the door with his foot, Kíli took his piercing gaze off Brænna to look at the Hobbit and asked, "What? Has it been cancelled?"
Fíli, which Brænna had decided was the more likeable brother, continued, "No one told us."
Absolutely befuddled and overwrought with anxiety by a valuable-sounding crash was heard from the pantry, Bilbo stammered, "W-what? No, nothing's been cancelled."
Rudely, Kíli shoved past Bilbo saying, "Well that's a relief."
Wincing at his brother's behavior, but winking at Brænna, Fíli handed her his knives, saying, "Careful with these, I just had 'em sharpened."
Irritated at the obscene behavior of these men and angry at being relegated to a carrier, Brænna growled, unwittingly showing off her ex-vampiric and Bosmer heritage fangs. She was however, absolutely shocked when Kíli started to scrape off his mud-encrusted boots on the edge of what was obviously an heirloom chest.
"That's my mother's glory box, can you please not do that?!" Bilbo shouted, arms full of discarded weaponry.
Though she had seen him ungraciously drop his weapons at the door, Brænna noticed that Kíli had kept a dagger on his waist, and resolved to keep an eye on the black-haired man.
As he turned to her, suspicion still evident on his face, she purposefully dropped Fíli's newly-sharpened knives on top of Kíli's discarded weapons.
"Oops," she said, an innocent look on her face.
"Why you-" Kíli said, stalking toward her, but cut off by the doorbell.
Bilbo stormed down the hall, yelling, "Oh no. No, no! There's NOBODY home. Go away and… bother somebody else. There's far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is. If-if-if this is some… clot head's idea of a joke," he laughed bitterly, "I can only say it is in very poor taste!"
Brænna blinked at the mention of Dwarves. Like many scholars, she'd had learned as much as she could about the Dwemer, their machines, and their disappearance, studying under Calcelmo, and even learning about the Falmer from Urag and Gelebor. To think that these men, these rude, discourteous, ill-mannered dwarves were the same race that betrayed the Snow Elves…
Her furious thoughts were cut off as Bilbo opened the door letting in an avalanche of supposedly-extinct Dwemer, and revealing a rather apologetic looking grey wizard. After counting out a full eight Dwarves, she shot the wizard a look that unambiguously said, We need to talk.
Making out Gandalf's barely-perceptible nod, Brænna turned around, looking for the black-haired Dwarf, finding that he had, of course, joined the others in ravaging Bilbo's pantry.
Rubbing at her temples, Brænna huffed angrily, making her way over to where Gandalf stood. Trying to be civil, she asked, "What is the meaning of this? I thought we were killing a dragon, not throwing a party," she spat.
Giving her a sheepish look and an irritating smile, he said, "All in good time."
One of the grey-haired Dwemer came up to ask Gandalf if he wanted tea, which the wizard used as an excuse to step away from the smoldering Archmage. She snorted unsympathetically when he banged his head on the chandelier. She heard him counting and naming the Dwemer as they scurried by while again, she sought out Kíli to keep an eye on him. Catching his glare from across the room as he whispered something to a disinterested Fíli, she quirked an eyebrow at him, daring him to cause trouble. He had just pushed himself off the wall as a new Dwemer, axe in head, stepped up to Gandalf, speaking in a strange tongue.
"Yes, you're quite right, Bifur. We appear to be one dwarf short," Gandalf said, apparently understanding.
Mouth full, Dwalin replied to the comment, saying, "He is late, is all. He travelled North to a meeting of our kin. He will come."
Brænna gritted her teeth at the thought of another loudmouth Dwemer coming into her friend's home. She removed herself to the hall, deciding to stand in a shadowy corner rather than join the festivities. Even in Skyrim, she'd hated large celebrations, especially those at local inns. The noise hurt her sensitive ears, and she hated dealing with sloppy, pushy drunks attempting to get her to go "somewhere private." More than once, her diminutive Wood Elf stature made her seem like her easy target, and more than once, she'd left particularly pushy partygoers in an alleyway to be found by the night guardsmen.
The only time she'd ever enjoyed a party was when she'd invited her closest friends to Lakeview Manor in Falkreath after her defeat of Alduin. Taarie, (who she'd befriended by purchasing Radiant Raiment's entire stock multiple times) had found a way to import a large quantity of Summerset Ale. She'd found herself in her skivvies, Amulet of Mara around her neck in the middle of the Pale with half of the Guard searching for her. Worse than the time she'd gone on a night rampage with Sanguine, Calcelmo had managed to talk the group out of jail time, saying they had been experimenting with a potent Dwemer drink recipe that would (allegedly) make them strong enough to bend metal with their bare hands.
She sighed, wishing Calcelmo were by her side. Thoughtless and rude though they were, he'd have been ecstatic at the thought of finding Dwemer anywhere in the world, she thought, smiling at the memory of her favorite researcher.
Acting on instinct, she caught a stray biscuit as it beelined for her face. A stray missile from the growing food fight, Brænna watched as Bilbo ran from the room in disgust. She glared at the Dwarves, watching as one poured ale down another's hearing trumpet, then scoffed as she watched a pitiful drinking competition that her husband would've won, hands down. She did, hower, raise an appreciative eyebrow at the massive belch the youngest dwarf let out.
She caught Kíli's eye as he laughed with his companions, and stared him down until he looked away.
Once the feast was done and the Dwemer slowly began leaving the table, Brænna watched as Bilbo snatched something from one of their hands, only half-following the conversation. She was shaken out of her reverie by Bilbo shouting something that was surely to be an expletive.
"My dear Bilbo," chuckled Gandalf, "What on earth is the matter?"
Understandably, Bilbo spluttered, "What's the matter? I'm surrounded by dwarves. What ARE they doing here?"
Gandalf, oblivious to the Hobbit's outrage, simply answered, "Oh, they're quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them."
Bilbo choked, stamping his foot. He quickly retorted, "I don't want to get used to them. The state of my kitchen! There's mud trod into the carpet, they've pi-pillaged the pantry…" he lowered his voice, saying, "I'm not even going to tell you what they've done in the bathroom; they've all but destroyed the plumbing. I don't understand what they're doing in my house!"
Gandalf simply chuckled, glancing over at Brænna, who simply lifted an unamused eyebrow. He waved her off, not wanting to explain. Rolling her eyes, she noticed the impressive belcher from before, ask what he should do with his plate.
Thank the Nine one of them has manners, she thought, though her stance was changed as Fíli took the plate from Ori with a holler, and tossed it to Kíli. What ensued was the most chaotic song-and-dance number that Brænna had ever seen. She winced several times as she thought that Bilbo's priceless heirlooms would surely be shattered on the floor, and nearly fainted with relief alongside him when she saw them neatly cleaned and stacked in the kitchen.
Brænna gritted her teeth at Gandalf and the Dwemers' laughter, which was quickly silenced by three loud knocks at the door.
"He is here," Gandalf stated ominously before turning to Brænna. "Do you nind getting the door?"
Rolling her eyes as she got up, she strode over to the door. As she opened it, she raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the missing Dwarf, even though he was different from the rest of them, more regal. He stood tall, proud, and serious, piercing blue eyes meeting her own red eyes.
Stepping past her, the Dwarf said, "Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way," he said, handing her his cloak. "Twice. Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."
"Mark?" Bilbo questioned as he peeked around Brænna's side. "There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago.
Mentally, Brænna added "graffiti" to the list of Gandalf's various character defects, but then stared in horror, registering the word "company" coming out of the Wizard's mouth.
Ardently avoiding Brænna's eyes, Gandalf watched the exchange between Bilbo and the new Dwemer, apparently named "Thorin."
Though she'd only known him for a few days, her hackles rose at the belittling of her new friend. As the rude Dwemer took a seat with the rest at the table, she moved to stand by the side, squeezing his shoulder in solidarity. She was quickly losing patience with these shameless, boorish Dwemer and their lack of manners to their, albeit unwitting, host, who had graciously given his home for their meeting.
Standing behind Bilbo and folding her arms, she listened to the conversation.
"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?" asked Balin, who in Brænna's opinion was the least offensive of the present Dwemer.
"They will not come. They say this quest is ours, and ours alone," Thorin answered, as he ate what seemed to be the last vestiges of Bilbo's pantry.
The company murmured disappointedly as Balin asked, "And from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?"
"Aye, envoys from all seven kingdoms," Thorin answered again.
The company muttered hopefully before being cut off by Thorin. "However, I have upsetting news." Looking up at Kíli, he said, "A dragon has been spotted in the Blue Mountains. Kíli, explain, if you would."
Surprised, the company turned toward the Black-haired archer. "Yes. I saw a dragon. While I was hunting for an arrow, I saw a black-clad archer in the forest. When I went to help when they screamed, I was greeted with hostility. Furthermore, when I tried to explain who it was, she summoned a dragon," he said, staring straight into Brænna's narrowed red eyes. "When I fled," he said, fingers inching toward the dagger at his waist, "Instead of eating the archer, the Dragon allowed her to climb onto its neck and both took off into the mist. I have seen neither since, until now," he snarled, hand clenched on the hilt.
One by one, the gathered Dwemer followed his glare, looking at the Half-elf with fear and suspicion. Just as she opened her mouth to explain, Gandalf decided, again, to put his foot in it.
"Now now, I have invited Mistress Brænna here personally. She comes from a land far to the west, where she is known far and wide as a reputable dragon slayer herself. To question her," he said, raising a placating glance to Kíli, "is to question me." he said. Deciding to diffuse the tension by changing the subject, he spread a map over the table, asking for light.
"Far to the east, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak."
"The Lonely Mountain," Bilbo read out, glancing between the map, Brænna and his unwelcome guests.
"Aye," Gloin said, shifting away from Brænna. "Oin has read the portents, and the portents say, 'tis time."
"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold; When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end," Oin explained as he leaned over the table.
"What beast?" Bilbo asked, not liking the shift of conversation from dragon-slaying to… whatever this was.
Bofur piped up helpfully, saying, "Well, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age." Brænna snorted at this, remembering the Dragon Crisis and Alduin's wrath. Ignoring her, Bofur continued, "Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meathooks, extremely fond of precious metals-"
Bilbo cut him off. "Yes I know what a dragon is!"
Ori piped up saying, "I'm not afraid! I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of Dwarfish Iron right up his jacksie!"
Brænna decided she'd had enough of this conversation and headed back out into the hall to breathe and meditate. One thing she'd learned from Paarthurnax was that being Dragonborn wasn't just about shouting magic and absorbing the souls of fallen Dovah. All Dovah, and by extension Dovahkiin, had massive anger issues which she, Paarthurnax, and eventually Odahviing had mitigated with careful meditation. It was only by sheer force of will that she hadn't shouted the Company all the way to Cyrodiil by now.
As she breathed, calming her heart rate down, she heard the argument on the other side of the wall.
"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest," Balin rebutted.
After the assembled Dwemer finished being offended, Gandalf said, That is where you are wrong, my friends. I have invited Mistress Brænna from her lands as an expert dragonslayer."
Brænna decided that meditation was overrated, and rejoined the company to defend herself.
Just as she turned round the corner, she heard Kíli ask, "Oh? And how many dragons has she- have you slain?" he asked, glaring at her.
"One hundred and seventeen," she said, not counting the twelve Dovah she'd killed by draining their souls from afar.
The group murmured in shock, the number murmured around the group. Shaking his head, Thorin glared at the Wizard, asking, "How do you know we can trust this woman with our quest?"
Gandalf responded, "I would not invite anyone unless I could personally vouch for them. As Dragonslayer and Archmage of her own land, a title also not easily earned. Additionally, she already knows about our quest, and the final location," he said, looking over at her.
Brænna nodded. "Now that I know that there's an aggressive, hostile Dov loose, I will be ending it with or without all of you. Should I have to travel with a group, so be it," she said.
"One thing concerns me though," she said, looking at Balin who seemed to be both the most knowledgeable and even-tempered of the group. "You say he is a fire-breather?"
"Aye," the white-bearded Dwemer answered, curious.
She pulled out a notebook from one of her pockets, flipping through it until she found the page she was looking for. Laying it down in front of Balin, she said, "Your 'Smaug' is fond of precious gems and metals. Few Dovah I've known have anything more than a few gold coins stashed away in a chest." She pointed at a pair of Dovah, an Ancient and Revered dragon, curled up on a pile of gold, with a set of conspicuously large jewels between them. "I observed this pair and their behavior due to the fact that seeing two Dovah not fighting was nearly unheard of." She leaned in concerned, pointing at the gems at the center of the pile.
"Are you certain that Smaug was not a female looking for a nest, or a male with an expecting mate?"