AN: Wow. Five chapters in three days, all of you are lucky. Hopefully I can convince myself to do the same for my other stories as well. Enjoy the longest chapter yet.
Again, I don't own Bethesda or the Hobbit, and 90% of the content up until about chapter 25 will be from the great mind of Demon-Kagetsuki.
Also, please review? I want to know if I'm doing well on this or nah.
The company stared at Brænna as if she'd grown a second head.
"A… mate?" hissed one of the Dwemer in the back. She continued scanning through her journal, trying to jog her memory as to the differences between male and female Dovah. Eventually she noticed the silence, and Balin's wide-eyed expression that clearly said "Go on, explain."
"Are you saying that more than one dragon may be hiding inside of Erebor?" asked Thorin.
"It is a possibility, yes. I'm not sure how long it takes Dovah eggs to incubate, but if Smaug is a lone female, you will have a very protective mother guarding either eggs or hatchlings, which are dangerous enough in their own right. If it is a male with a mate and nest, expect to fight two at once," Brænna answered as she pocketed the book. "Either way, it will not be a pleasant experience. The adults will be difficult to kill, but not impossible. However, if there are hatchlings, they must be destroyed. No exceptions."
"How do we know-" Kíli began, before Bilbo cut him off.
"Now hang on just a bloody moment. You said 'hatchlings' must be destroyed. Not eggs," the Hobbit said, slamming his hands down on the table. "Why the difference?"
Brænna shrugged, trying not to reveal that she'd hoped to be able to bring the unhatched eggs to Paarthurnax. "Hatchlings are a foregone conclusion. They'll never leave their home until adulthood, and by then they're dangerous enough to destroy a town. Eggs can be relocated."
"There! See!" Kíli said, stabbing a finger in her direction. "She's in league with the dragons! You say you're a dragon slayer, but why is it none of us have heard of you? You could've made everything in that book up!"
Rather than try to defend herself over the shouting, some of the Dwemer taking her side, most of them shouting at her, she stood up and grabbed her bag that she had set just inside the spare room to the right of the entryway. Dropping it on the table did nothing to silence their angry cries, but what she pulled out of her bag brought the conversation to a screeching halt.
Internally thanking the Nine for her foresight, she pulled out her neatly-folded Dragonscale armor and set it on the table. Alongside it, she unrolled a cloak she'd been working on, made of scales of all shapes, sizes and colors. The clasp itself was fashioned of two halves of a larger black scale that seemed to suck the light out of the very air.
Into the silence she spoke. "I come from a land far to the west of Middle-Earth, and undertook a journey that none I know have returned from. In fact, I had to trust Gandalf that this land even existed, and only had his word to guide me of its location. This cloak contains a scale from every Dovah I have slain." Snatching it by the hood, she tossed it into the fireplace. "And of course, it is fireproof."
Taking the cloak out of the flames with a poker, not willing to show that she herself couldn't be burned due to her enchantments. She glared at Kíli, daring him to say anything else. The young, black-haired Dwemer looked away in disgust, clearly irritated at being defeated. All of the other Dwemer murmured to each other in curiosity and distrust, though Balin nonverbally asked to examine the cloak, to which she obliged.
"If you are all quite finished questioning my credentials, I would like to continue," she said, placing the rest of the Dragonscale set back in her bag. "Gandalf informed me that not only is your Smaug larger than the Dovah of my homeland, but was able to defeat an entire Dwemer army. Given that, I have doubts as to whether the thirteen of you, even with my help and expertise, will be able to slay the beast, even if there is only one residing in the mountain."
"Dwemer?" Thorin asked dangerously, wondering if he had just been insulted.
Rolling her eyes and waving him off, Braena explained, "The common name of Dwarves in my homeland," she clarified.
"We may be few in number," Fíli said with a smile, "but we're fighters. All of us! To the last Dwarf!"
"And you forget, we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!" Kíli said, avoiding the Half-Bosmer's eye.
Clearly uncomfortable, Gandalf began stammering, glancing between the assembled Dwemer and Brænna. "Oh well now, uh, I-I-I wouldn't say that, I-"
"How many, then?" asked Dori of the Wizard.
"Wh-what?" Gandalf asked, stalling for time.
"How many dragons have you killed? Your friend here has slain a few, go on, give us a number!" Dori continued.
The Dwemer began pestering Gandalf, jumping to their feet and taking bets as to how many Dovah Gandalf had killed as said wizard nervously coughed on his pipe smoke. Brænna rolled her eyes, sighing, having figured out that the wizard had exactly zero experience with Dovah-slaying. This boastfulness from the younger Dwemer hadn't done much for her confidence, and she realized that many of them, if not all, would likely die facing the Dovah.
Thorin jumped to his feet, bellowing a word in what could only be Dwarvish (Calcelmo would have fainted). "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back as others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?" Thorin cheered.
All of the dwarves gave a mighty cheer, but wise old Balin spoke over them saying, "You forget, the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain."
Then why did you come? Brænna thought to herself.
"That, my dear Balin," Gandalf said while producing a wrought-iron key, "Is not entirely true."
Whispering, as if he'd seen a ghost, Thorin said, "How came you by this?"
"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safe keeping. It is yours now," the wizard said, handing over the key to the tall dwarf.
Rather obviously, Fíli said, "If there is a key… there must be a door!"
Wow, these are the dwarves you chose to kill a dragon? Brænna thought uncharitably.
"These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls," Gandalf began, gesturing to strange writing on the map that looked little like the Dwemeris script that Brænna was used to.
Forgetting his foul mood, Kíli exclaimed, "There's another way in!"
"Well, if we can find it, but Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done," the wizard finished explaining, his eyes turning toward the Hobbit.
At the mention of stealth, Brænna froze, wondering if Gandalf knew of her rather checkered past as leader of the Thieves Guild and her position as Nightingale, before following his gaze to the Hobbit. Her heart sank, realizing that Gandalf meant to coerce their poor host into coming on the quest.
"That's why we need a burglar," Ori said.
Completely oblivious, Bilbo answered, "Hm. And a good one too. An expert, I'd imagine."
"And are you?" Gloin questioned expectantly.
"Am I what?" Bilbo asked in confusion.
"He said he's an expert!" Oin cheered, causing several of the Dwemer to start laughing.
In horror, Bilbo shook himself out of his stupor and sputtered, "M-Me? No, no, no, no, no. I'm not a burglar; I've never stolen a thing in my life!"
To Gandalf, Brænna whispered, "Gandalf, I hope you're not serious about bringing him on this quest?"
"I'm afraid I have to agree with Master Baggins and Mistress Brænna," Balin said. "He's hardly burglar material."
"Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," Dwalin agreed, which was correct, but he didn't have to be so insulting about it.
Once again arguing, the Dwemer shouted, trying to find the benefits and consequences of bringing the Hobbit along with them. The hairs on Brænna's neck stood on end though as she felt Gandalf gather magic into himself as he roared, "Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!" much to Brænna's disappointment.
Explaining, the wizard said, "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. You have asked me to find the last members of this company, and I have chosen Master Baggins and Madam Stormcrown. There's a lot more to them than appearances suggest, and they've got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including the Hobbit himself. You must all trust me on this."
"Very well, we'll do it your way," Thorin said. "Give them the contract."
Balin handed both Brænna and Bilbo copies of a long contract, before explaining what they contained. "It's just the usual summary of out of pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements and so forth."
Brænna raised an eyebrow at the last statement as Bilbo squeaked out, "Funeral arrangements?" She barely heard Bilbo go through the contract as she herself read through the terms and conditions. Bofur's comments did catch her attention, as did the pale, nauseated expression Bilbo had on his face. Folding up the contract, she made her way around the table to his side, trying to non-verbally tell the oblivious Dwemer to just shut up. Fortunately, she was able to catch Bilbo as he fell to the ground, giving the embarrassed looking Dwemer a hard look.
After picking the unconscious Hobbit up and setting him on a chair in the sitting room, Brænna sat down at the table for only the second time that night, and began looking through the contract. The Dwemer seemed to be holding their breath in anticipation, watching her face for any reaction.
As she reached the end, she gave an unimpressed, "Hmph," and held out a hand for a quill. Scratching out her name on the parchment, she handed the contract to Balin, who said, "Welcome to the company of Thorin Oakenshield. If you are as experienced as I hope you are, you will be a very valuable member of our group," Balin said as he stamped the document.
Dryly, Brænna answered, "I hope I won't disappoint." Standing up, she said, "Now that that's all taken care of, I need to go outside to make sure my horse hasn't eaten Master Baggins's flowers."
At the door, she grabbed her bag and cloak, and said to Gandalf, "If you would please ask Bilbo to come and see me whether or not he signs the contract, it would be much appreciated."
Without even looking back to see if he agreed, she exited the warm home, and stepped into the cool night air.
Damn the storm and damn that Dwemer archer, she thought. Because of him, the Company's already suspicious. She stroked Vokun's neck, brushing him down for the night. It'll be impossible to communicate with Odahviing if they're watching my every move. She growled as she realized she wouldn't even be able to use her Thu'um on the journey, then sighed.
It's probably for the best if I don't use them anyway, now that I don't have Odahviing to hold me back when… if I lose control. Can't have that happen ever again, she thought glumly.
Shaking her head to clear the dark thoughts, she climbed up on top of the hill that was Bag End, and once again stared at the night sky. She'd been here a week, and even longer from Skyrim, and not once had she seen the red light of Masser in the sky. She decided to stay outside, taking in the view of Hobbiton and enjoying the cool night air. Thanks to her heightened senses as a thief, she was able to hear Bilbo walking towards her, his internal conflict clear on his face.
"Hello, Bilbo. Are you all right? That was quite the fainting spell," Brænna asked.
"Hm? Oh yes, of course. I wanted to thank you for saving my head back there. Would've been a nasty knot on it if you hadn't," he responded, sitting down next to her. "Gandalf said you wished to speak to me?"
"Yes, but something is troubling you," she said, giving him the opportunity to speak.
Bilbo explained about his respectable, stay-at-home Baggins heritage, and how it was at war with his adventurous Took side. "My younger self would've taken this chance, and run with it in a heartbeat. I just... I don't know what to do. Gandalf told me that he could not assure my safety on this quest just to add to my list of worries," he explained.
She nodded with understanding. "You are caught at a crossroads my friend. If you turn down one path, you will always wonder what would happen if you took the other. These are the risks of life. You need to look within yourself and see what it is you truly desire. However, I have a simple trick that allows me to cut through the uncertainty."
"Oh? What would you have me do?" the Hobbit asked, genuinely curious.
"When I have to make a difficult decision, I take out a coin and place the desired outcomes on each side. I toss the coin in the air and whichever side I hope it lands on is the one that I should take, as it is the one that I truly desire," Brænna explained, taking out a Septim and handing it to Bilbo. "You don't have to do it right now. Just don't wait until you regret it."
With that, she got up and began walking back to the entrance of the Hobbit hole. After a few steps, she turned around and said, "No matter the outcome of your toss, if you come along on this quest, I want you to know I will do everything in my power to protect you from harm."
Bilbo had given Brænna permission to use the guest room for the night rather than sending her out to the inn. She was using a magelight spell to read by, having picked out several history books from Bilbo's collection, when she heard the sound of singing through the wall. She put down the book and closed her eyes, focusing on the deep singing of the Dwemer.
Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away 'ere break of day
To find our long-forgotten gold.
The pines were roaring on the height
The winds were moaning in the night
The fire was red, it flaming spread
The trees like torches blazed with light.
Brænna pitied these Dwemer that had lost their home. Though she knew she would never truly know how they felt, she knew the pain of loss and heartbreak. Her mind raced back to the very first day she'd met her husband-to-be. After her near-execution at Helgen, she'd travelled to Whiterun to speak with Jarl Balgruuf and had seen a motley group of fighters taking down a Giant. She'd arrived just in time to be absolutely no help at all, but Farkas had confidently strode up to her and offered her a place in the Companions.
Once she'd slain her first Dovah and retrieved the Dragonstone from the Barrow, she'd returned to Jorrvaskr. She'd been passed from Companion to Companion before finally being directed to Kodlak. She'd fought against Vilkas, Farkas's brother, and then been directed on a series of nonsense quests before helping Farkas find a fragment of Wuuthrad, Ysgramor's legendary axe. Handling the fragment itself was nauseating due to her Bosmer blood, but she'd returned to Jorrvaskr, fragment in hand and been inducted into the Companions.
She'd left for a while, though she kept in touch with her new Shield-Brothers and Sisters. Eventually, she'd found herself a Nightingale in Riften, entering the temple of Mara for the first time. Maramal had explained about marriage, and, with the perfect person in mind, she'd paid the 200 septims for an amulet of Mara and booked it straight to Jorrvaskr.
She smiled as she thought back on the simple ceremony at the temple with Aela and Vilkas attending. They'd stayed at Jorrvaskr until she'd scrounged up enough money to buy and build Lakeview Manor, moved in as the happy couple, and even adopted Sofia and Lucia.
Still, Brænna had not been able to stand idly by as Dovah ravaged the countryside. She'd met the Greybeards and Delphine, befriended/subdued Odahviing, and slain Alduin in Sovngarde.
Shaking her head of these thoughts knowing exactly where they'd lead, she snapped her book closed and began to get dressed for bed. Gritting her teeth, she gently pulled off her robe, trying to not snag the black cotton on what was hidden on her back.
She couldn't help herself. By the witchlight, she examined her back in the full-length mirror. The black scales glimmered in the light, stretching from shoulder to shoulder, and down past the hemline of her pants. They'd began appearing two years after she'd defeated Alduin after several long weeks of itchiness along her spine. A simple line of black, diamond-shaped scales had come up through the skin, bringing panic in their wake. Immediately, she'd gone to Paarthurnax, leaving Farkas to wake alone in the Manor.
Paarthurnax had told her that he had only heard tales of what was happening. As a Dovahkiin, one possessed the soul of a Dovah, but the shape of a man.. As they used more and more of a Dovah's power, the blood and soul would begin to bleed through, eroding the Dragonborn's mortality until they forgot who they were.
She'd found the story to be true in her battle against Miraak, the first dragonborn. Hermaeus Mora had ripped his mask off, and to her horror she'd seen instead of a man, what seemed at first to be a half-Argonian monstrosity, eyes yellow with a glint of madness, with horns growing through matted, feral hair.
After the corrupted Dragonborn was destroyed by Mora, Brænna had been terrified of the thought of losing herself, swearing to not use the Thu'um unless absolutely necessary. Over time, she learned when she did shout, the Dragon within her would break free, lashing out at anyone and anything with sheer Draconic brutality.
When Farkas had died, she'd succumbed to her grief and anger, and allowed herself to be controlled by the Dragon, shouting and attacking any and all who had come near her. Only Odahviing had been able to force her to regain her senses, and what had started out as a simple line of scales had spread from her spine all the way to her shoulder blades.
As long as I do not become Miraak, she swore to herself, I don't care what I look like, she thought as she tugged her nightgown over the scales, hiding them from view.
The next morning, still angry and with thoughts echoing the night before, she awoke to quiet chatter in the dining room. Instead of lashing out, she put on her green tunic, leather jerkin, black pants, boots, and cloak. Instead of having her white hair down to hide her ears, she decided to style it like Serana's, braided back, allowing her to hear better now that her hair wasn't covering her ears. She packed her things quickly, before exiting quietly, passing Bilbo's room without a sound.
She "Good morning"-ed the gathered company in the dining room, snagged an apple that had survived last night's feast, and began preparing her horse, unaware of the fury the sight of her ears had sparked in one of the dwarves.
Thorin turned toward Gandalf, face alight with fury, saying, "You did not tell me that she was an elf," he spat.