THE HOBBIT: Heralds of the Second World

Nine years ago, the warlord Apollyon was slain.

Since then, the world has entered a new age. Conflict still reigns as the Blackstone Remnants continue their campaign of mass panic and slaughter against the Iron Legion, the Warborn, and the Dawn Empire. Realizing their common enemy, the three peoples shared a unity unseen in millennia. In doing so, the factions formed a truce, one of trade, benefit and calls for aid if necessary. If they could talk, then they could fight together. Perhaps not in this world, but another…

9th of December, Year Unknown.

"Defend the gate!"

War raged on this snowy night in Valkenheim. The Blackstone Remnants had attempted to breach the mighty Hallowed Bastion, an ancient fortress on the shores of the icy realms. For years, this castle stood strong against many foes, untouched by the war until now. A company of both Iron Legion, Warborn and Dawn Empire soldiers fought to protect this place against the thousand-strong Blackstones. They had breached the first gate, and now their sights were on the second.

For Augusta Connolly, it was another day on the job. She certainly stood out among the Viking defenders being one of the remaining knights still fighting, and a lady at that. And she was not hard to miss. Her golden armor glimmered underneath the moonlight above, contrasted by her black-colored tunic dark enough to hide most of her features, such as her pale skin and freckles.

The conqueror swung her flail at another Blackstone, cracking open both his helmet and his jawline. He was dead before he touched the ground. She raised her shield in time to block the attack of another, pushing back the blade and smashing her shield against the Blackstone, pushing him straight off the fortress walls and onto the ground below. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath before standing up straight again.

"The ram is stuck!" Someone cried out, "Destroy it before they reach the gate!"

Unlike most of the heroes that came to defend the Viking city, Augusta was here for the money. A mercenary like her had to earn her pay. When the Blackstones had arrived here, the Warborn had sent out a message of urgent help against them. Augusta had been part of the Iron Legion who had answered, teaming up with the Dawn Empire to help protect the Viking homeland. The civilians were evacuated to the rebuilt fortress of Gränsgård, the Warborn eager to keep their people out of the fighting.

"Conqueror!" Augusta turned her head to the Commander speaking to her in the common language that they all shared, pointing towards a turret. "Get on the ballista!"

"On it," she said, marching over to the small tower that housed the stationary weapon. From here she could see the rogue heroes supporting the Blackstones; a pair of wardens, a lawbringer and a peacekeeper. She was the only hero left on the defender's side, the rest had either died or fled the siege. Not Augusta. She was going to finish this and get paid. Handsomely, of course.

"Reinforcements are coming! Hold out until they arrive!" The Commander shouted to his troops, giving them a sense of invigoration as they continued to fight on. The pikemen charged the ranks of the Blackstone, attempting to hold back their seemingly endless numbers. Archers fired their flaming arrows, lighting the night sky with fire.

She fired the first harpoon on the ballista, nailing one of wardens in the head. The fallen knight ragdolled his way back thanks to the sheer power of the impact alone, colliding with some unfortunate soldiers that happened to be standing there. The Blackstones instantly knew what was going on, the lawbringer shouting something and pointing right at the ballista's location before Augusta managed to reload and fire another shot, firing right at the ram. She missed the peacekeeper but managed to kill a pair of pikeman instead.

Augusta knew that they would come after her. After all, she was the last woman standing. It would be a clear shot to the commander from here, and then the Hallowed Bastion would be theirs.

Augusta hopped off the ballista and saw the remaining three Blackstone heroes charging at her, the lawbringer leading them. A three-versus-one did not help her odds of surviving this battle.

"Perfect," Augusta mumbled to herself, readying her shield against the three rogue heroes. She spun her flail, getting ready to swing at whoever was dumb enough to face her first. The lawbringer simply stuck out his hand and pointed towards the archer ridge. The peacekeeper and warden reluctantly followed their commander's orders, leaving the lawbringer to face the conqueror. Augusta watched as they left and returned her gaze to the armored man in front of her.

"Tell me, conqueror," the lawbringer said, speaking in common as he planted his gilded poleaxe, "You really think you can win this fight? There's four-well, three of us and only one of you."

"I kinda like those odds," Augusta replied. The Blackstone tilted his head.

"A woman conqueror. Haven't seen too many of you around. A shame you'll die here rather than give the men of my company a pleasurable night," The lawbringer laughed, fueling Augusta's anger. This man was no lawbringer, only a bastard wearing undeserved armor.

The conqueror rushed the lawbringer, smashing her shield at his armored body and sending him sliding across the snow-covered ground. Augusta swung her flail, earning a hit across the lawbringer's chest. Another shield bash stumbled him back as she swung again, this time he managed to parry her attack and bash his pole on her chest, opening Augusta's defenses.

"Ad mortem, inimīcus!" He shouted as he rammed his pole against her stomach, vaulting her over his shoulder and flung her through the wooden fence and into the heavy snow. Augusta landed on her gut some distance away, her face and armor covered in white. The lawbringer jumped from the ballista nest and landed with a stomp, eager to finish the job.

"That hurt, bitch. Now you're gonna die," the lawbringer spat.

"Show me what you've got, Blackstone puppet." She shot back, shaking off some of the snow.

The lawbringer let out a battle cry as he charged, aiming to ram his poleaxe into her gut. She deflected it, sending an uppercut to the Blackstone with her flail as his attack failed. Before she could finish him off, he grabbed the conqueror mid-swing and flung her against a wall, finishing off by smacking the end of his poleaxe on her head, making her see stars.

"Ugh!" Augusta grunted and felt the lawbringer drive his poleaxe into her gut, her armor protecting her from being impaled. Augusta responded by wildly swinging her flail, connecting at the lawbringer's head with enough force to nearly knock off his helmet. The conqueror kept up the assault, not caring whether she could see correctly. He was able to deflect one of her swings, but she countered with another shield bash and pushed him aside, giving her enough time to finish him off with a heavy swing, wrapping her chain around his throat, kick his feet out from under him and snap his neck. The lawbringer fell over with a mighty thud that shook the ground beneath her.

A sudden battlecry caught Augusta's attention. It was the reinforcements who had finally come to turn the tide against the invading Blackstones, emerging from the forest to decimate their enemy. She saw both Viking and Samurai charge the Remnant forces, cutting a swath of bloodshed in their wake.

"They're retreating!" One of the Vikings shouted, a warlord by the looks of things. The defending soldiers cheered in their victory, but it didn't last long. Something else was coming. It was the shrill whine of something soaring across the air.

"Catapults! INCOMING!" A captain shouted, pointing at the sky where the Blackstone were unleashing their final attack, an all-out assault on the Viking fortress. She knew what the Blackstone bastards were doing. What they couldn't take, they would destroy. Even their own soldiers were not spared as a flaming stone crushed the battering ram like a house of cards. The remaining Blackstone forces ran as their own war machines rained death from above.

"Fall back! Retreat to the inner fortress!" An officer cried out, giving the signal to retreat.

Augusta, caught in the middle of the hellstorm, ran as fast as she could to the gate. Her fight with the lawbringer had dragged her across the open fields outside Bastion, and now she was running for her life as bombs and fiery stones bombarded the snowy fields around her. She could feel the heat of the flaming stones all around her.

As she crossed a wooden bridge, hoping to get to safety, a flaming boulder crashed next to the conqueror, obliterating the bridge, and sending her falling into the icy waters below. As she lost consciousness, Augusta could see the waters of Valkenheim get closer as she plummeted down, and her vision went white the moment she hit the surface. The chill of the rivers of the Viking lands consumed her, dragging her to the dark, cold abyss.

With her armor weighing her down, Augusta knew that escaping the freezing water was impossible.

It's so cold, she thought, knowing that she was going to die here. She'd preferred to have died in battle, or of old age with her little sister at her side, not drowning in the waters of Valkenheim. Slowly her vision darkened, and the cold began to take over as she lost consciousness. Her last thoughts trailed to her sister, wondering what would happen to her.

I'm sorry, Paloma. I'm sorry I couldn't come home tonight…

And yet, as she fell deeper into the dark, a bead of light suddenly grew. Augusta couldn't describe what it was completely, but in the deep blue waters it was like a spark growing in front of her eyes. As quickly as it grew, the light suddenly morphed around Augusta, like the heavens were opening to her. Light split open, revealing clouds and stars and oceans, stretching into an infinite road. Augusta didn't feel like she was falling. Rather, she was rising, being pulled up from her watery tomb towards something else, something she did not know the end of.

And she strayed out of thought and time…

…

Augusta awoke.

The first thing she noticed was that she was no longer adrift in the cold rivers of Valkenheim. Grass tickled her skin. She saw trees, and sunlight peeking through the canopy. Songbirds gave their morning hymns. Augusta had to shield her eyes from the rays of light blinding her vision. Speaking of shield, her trusty Demetra shield was no longer on her left arm. Augusta felt the absence of its weight, which did not settle her mood.

Augusta shot up to her feet, noticing that the forest seemed to stretch in all directions. Unarmed, but still wearing her gold-plated armor, Augusta had no clue where the hell she was.

Why was she alive? Why was she in some forest?

Had the Almighty come to judge her?

"Am," she wondered out loud, "am I dead? Is this limbo?"

"Far from it, my dear. Far from it."

Augusta turned around to hear the gentle, elderly laughter coming from behind her. There was an old man standing not too far from her, dressed up in a gray grab and a long, pointed hat. His equally gray beard stretched far from his face, draping over his clothing. He also carried a staff with him, made of dark oak and twisting into a blooming root at the top where she spied a piece of embedded quartz. One thought came to Augusta's mind.

A wizard? The conqueror recalled the old stories of wizards from her younger days, far from the warrior she was now, and this old man nailed that image perfectly. He was speaking the common tongue, something that Augusta appreciated greatly. It saved her the trouble of trying to talk to people in her native voice.

"Good afternoon, madam." The wizard nodded his head to her, polite as can be. "It certainly is a fine day for a quiet nap, is it not?"

"Um," Augusta slowly said, unnerved by the wizard's friendliness, "I guess so."

"Yes, indeed. Tell me," the wizard said, "What brings a soldier such as yourself to the Shire?"

"The where?" Augusta asked. She'd never heard of anything, or more specifically anywhere called the Shire. That name rang no bells in her head. Was she no longer in Valkenheim? The forests around her held some similarities to the outskirts of Ashfeld. Perhaps fate was toying with her. "What's the Shire?"

"Hmm." The wizard hummed to himself, taking a closer look at the armored woman in front of him. From her dark black tunic to her golden armor, she was certainly a strange sight. It also didn't help that her armor was decorated with skulls, even her helm bore the visage of a skull, covering her face with gilded teeth and bone.

"What is your name?"

"Pardon? My name?" Augusta asked.

"Yes, that is what I asked, is it not?" The wizard replied with a soft tone. He seemed harmless, so Augusta decided to answer him truthfully.

"My name is Augusta Connolly, of the Iron Legion." She replied.

"Iron Legion?" The wizard said, rolling around the name of her kingdom in his mouth, "Is that in the company of Gondor?"

"No, I'm not from, um, Gondor, as you say." Augusta said, getting more nervous as time went on. The names that the wizard was telling her was of nothing she remembered from anywhere, not even in Valkenheim or the Myre. And worse she was still unarmed, missing her flail and shield. Augusta still had no idea if this man was an actual wizard or just playing as one, so she kept herself tame.

"Then where are you from, I might ask?" The wizard asked, leaning on his wooden staff.

"Ashfeld." Augusta said, as if it was written in big red letters on her forehead. She decided to tell him her own village where she grew up, "From Firetrap, west of Mount Ignis." The wizard was silent for a few moments before he gave one last question.

"Does the name Middle Earth ring any bells to you?"

This wizard and his endless questions.

"Nope. Not in the slightest," Augusta answered.

The fact that Augusta said it so calmly must have spooked the wizard, who was now mumbling to himself as he turned around, scratching his beard as he did. Augusta took this moment to search for her flail and shield. She couldn't find it behind any trees or in any bushes. She feared that, whatever must have put her here, be it from the hand of God or fate itself, had either lost or misplaced her prized weaponry. It dawned on her that she was very far away from home, and she might as well be prepared for anything here.

"I think it would be best if you would accompany me for the time being." The wizard announced, catching Augusta's attention. "After all, a lost stranger is a needy stranger."

"Listen here wizard, I'm not going anywhere unless I find my stuff. Either you can help me out or you can find someone else to bother." Augusta said, getting riled up from being unarmed and now bossed around. She might be a mercenary paid to do some unsavory deeds, but there were limits that she would take. "And what's your name, by the way? Since you asked mine."

"I am known by many names, but you can call me Gandalf."

Augusta blinked.

"Gandalf the Gray."

"Right. So," Augusta drawled, "Gandalf. You mind helping me find my flail and shield?"

"You mean those?" Gandalf pointed with his staff towards the one tree that Augusta hadn't looked for. Her Demetra flail and shield lay there, good as day. Gandalf eyed the designs suspiciously. "Quite interesting for a woman of war to decorate her armaments with so many faces of death."

"I like skulls." Augusta said back, placing her shield on her left arm and holstering her flail.

"Right. Now, let us be on our way, we don't want to be late." Gandalf said, marching along the trail. Augusta stood there, watching the wizard trek off on a trail. This wizard's strange manners were making her feel so confused. By the time she realized that the wizard wanted her to follow him, he was some distance away.

"Wait a second! Late? Late for what?!" She cried out, running after him.

…

"How nice of you to accompany me on this journey, Miss Augusta."

"Just Augusta, please. Miss makes me feel old."

The sun had turned its tide towards evening, leaving the sky in a glowing orange and purple haze. The trail that both wizard and conqueror took lead them out of the forest and onto smooth, rolling hills. Augusta noticed that some of these hills had windows and doors, almost like people had built their houses into the hills themselves. It was so calm and peaceful; unlike anything she had ever experienced in Ashfeld or any other kingdom.

"What is this place?" Augusta asked, looking around at the scenery. She had expected to be swept up into some sort of castle owned by Gandalf, not a quaint little village town. There were people here too, but nothing of the sort that Augusta was used to.

For starters, they were short.

"Watch it, you oaf!" A crotchety old man leered at Augusta after she had nearly toppled him thanks to her bigger stature. She had not been paying attention to where she was going, rather at the tavern where she heard gallant noises. These little people were everywhere. They seemed to be of different ages and good health, but the inhabitants were, in lack of a better term, scaled down. Plus, their feet were large and hairy. None of them wore shoes.

"What are these people, dwarves?" She asked. The more she thought about it, the more she felt like she was in some fairytale. First wizards, now tiny people.

"No, my dear, these are hobbits. I should have informed you that we're now in Hobbiton, home to a great many hobbits in the East Farthing." Gandalf explained as they continued to walk.

"Y'know, the more you talk, the less things make sense." Augusta said to him. All Gandalf did was smile. As they approached a stone bridge towards what appeared to be the center of town, Gandalf stopped and turned to face the conqueror.

"I'm afraid this is where I must leave you for now, Augusta." The wizard said, and the conqueror recoiled.

"What for? You're not just gonna leave me in this land of midgets, are you?" Augusta asked, catching some attention from some bystanders.

"No, not in the way you're thinking of," Gandalf reassured her, "Here. On a hill over to the west is a house with this mark on the door. I will meet you there soon enough." He handed her a small piece of paper. On it was a symbol of what looked like a letter of some sort. One line drawn vertically with two other lines striking through it at similar angles. Augusta could only guess that it was some sort of magical wizard rune.

"So, this is the mark on the door? Where the… hobbit lives?" Augusta asked. Gandalf must have planned for something, nonetheless the reason why he was dragging her along.

"Yes. I do believe you'll give him some good company tonight." Gandalf said back. Augusta glared at him with pointed eyes. He instantly got the message, and his face flushed red. "Oh, w-well not like that. What I meant to say was he already has guests over and I am simply going to get the others, while you go on ahead and make yourself known."

"Right. And just who am I going to visit?"

"Oh, that would be Bilbo Baggins, my dear. He'll answer the door when you knock. I'd imagine you're quite hungry. He will more than likely have dinner ready for you. Now off you go." Gandalf said as he walked over the bridge, leaving the conqueror alone for now. As Gandalf left, he watched as Augusta began heading towards wherever she thought Bilbo lived. The wizard was both troubled and intrigued by the mysterious woman. It was if she had not a clue where she was. It was obvious however that she was no agent for the Enemy, that was for certain. The White Council would have to decide on just what to do with Augusta Connolly.

Speaking of the conqueror, Augusta stared down at the piece of paper in her hand, and then looked around to see if there were any hints to where this Baggins lived. Hell, she didn't even know where westwas facing. She might as well be walking in circles.

"Oh, perfect." Augusta groaned.

"Mommy, who is that?"

"Ssh! Don't point! It's rude." A hobbit mother scolded her daughter, quickly scooping up the young one in her arms. "Sorry about that, she's just curious is all."

"Not a problem. Say, you wouldn't happen to know where a Baggins lives?"

"Oh, sure, sure! Baggins is such a good fellow, saw him earlier buying some fish."

Speaking of fish, she just hoped that Baggins was having a good day for some food to spare. She was hungry.

…

As it turns out, Mr. Baggins was not having a good day at all. At first, he was at home, getting ready to eat some fine trout and call it a night, especially after the little bit of drama with avoiding Gandalf. And yet here he was, standing at the entrance to his pantry as a pair of dwarves put their muddy paws all over his food, his drink, and his manners. While he was as polite as the next hobbit, he had to make his voice heard.

Now if only the dwarves would just listen.

The two of them were named Dwalin and Balin. At his service if Bilbo was to be so bold to remember. Dwalin, the burlier, warrior-type dwarf that had the temerity to eat his dinner of trout and potatoes, and the first arrival to his home, had the hobbit on a constant edge since he was so intimidating with his brawny stature, tattooed head and rugged armor. He treated Bilbo with a modicum of respect. The other, Balin, was far friendlier and seemed to be a genuinely nice fellow. The elderly dwarf's white beard nearly reached his knees, draping over his heavy cloth robes. Bilbo couldn't say that he hated them, but he only wished that there was some way to have some sort of decent conversation.

So far, they were too engrossed in their own conversation to pay attention to his own. They were talking about the vast amounts of food that lay in his pantry as he tried, oh so desperately tried to make some honest talk.

"It's not that I don't like visitors. I like visitors as much as the next Hobbit. But I do like to know them before they come visiting," Bilbo said, and he might as well be talking to a brick wall considering both Dwalin and Balin were outright ignoring him, instead going to look over some cheese.

"What is this?" Dwalin asked, taking a whiff.

"I don't know. I think its cheese. Gone blue." Balin replied, looking a tad bit disgusted himself.

"It's riddled with mold."

"The thing is," Bilbo said, watching as Dwalin tossed the bleu cheese over his shoulder, "I don't know either of you. Not in the slightest. I don't mean to be blunt, but I had to speak my mind. I'm sorry."

That seemed to get their attention. Dwarves were accustomed to treating their hosts with utmost respect, and hearing that surely must have wavered some sort of explanation, and maybe even and apology back. Bilbo could only hope. But all he got from Balin was a simple, short reply.

"Apology accepted."

The hobbit balked. And the doorbell rang again, leaving Bilbo once again stunned and very confused.

"Now c'mon brother, fill it up, don't be stint."

…

That wasn't so difficult. Just follow the western road and to the left. Augusta had noticed the glowing blue mark on the door when she had made the bend around the house, or hobbit hole as the locals called it, their little hill-homes. The conqueror hopped the fence with ease, considering she was taller than most folk here. A perfectly circular sea-green door lay in front of her, with the mark glowing blue just above the lower frame, easily seen in the darkness of nighttime. From the lights shining inside the hobbit hole Augusta knew that it was occupied.

What really made her feel tall was the fact that the door itself was only just shorter than her by at least a foot. She would have to lean down to get inside, to her amusement.

She rang the doorbell, which was an actual bell with a string attached. Very old school. It reminded her of home.

…

Bilbo hoped that it wasn't any more dwarves. He prayed that there wouldn't be any more dwarves in his home. Two were bad enough. Anymore and he was sure to lose his mind. Yet when he opened the door, the last thing he expected was to see a black tunic with spiked gold armor standing before him. Slowly the armor knelt to reveal who it was, not a dwarf, but a man. Bilbo nearly jumped out of his skin, letting out a short gasp as the man leaned down to enter Bag End. His face was hidden behind a helm with the plating shaped like a skull, with another smaller one protruding from the top like some sort of frightening ornament. On his left arm was a shield, and a flail hooked to his waist. It took Bilbo a couple moments to realize that it was not a man, but a woman wearing that armor, as evident with her bosom chest and fairer eyes.

He found himself staring up at her far longer that it was comfortable for him to bear. Bilbo let himself cough as he tried to make some leeway. She seemed to be more reserved than Dwalin and Balin, not once giving her name and adding "At your service," to it. Perhaps this woman was far more respectful than the dwarves currently here, or simply less talkative, or perhaps she was waiting for him to introduce himself. He opened his mouth to talk but was beaten to the punch.

"I take it you're the hobbit named Bilbo Baggins." She said, startling Bilbo with her strange accent of hers. He'd never heard anyone talk with a tone like that. Perhaps she hailed from the far North. "Well?"

"Oh, u-um, yes, yes, it is ma'am. Yes, I am Bilbo Baggins." He reached to shake her hand, which she ignored as she went inside. The armor she wore clanged on his wooden floor with the heavy chainmail and gold plating. She took off her helm to reveal her short blond hair, shaking it around from being trapped underneath her armor for so long.

"So, where is it?" She asked.

"Where's what?" Bilbo was getting used to answering questions with his own tonight.

"Dinner. Gandalf said you'd have some food prepared." She said, putting down her helm along with her Demetra shield and flail on a chair, taking a moment to look around her surroundings. "It's a very nice place you got here, Mr. Baggins. Very cozy."

"Oh, well, Bag End has been in my family's name for many generations." Bilbo said to her, somewhat happy that he was able to talk to someone in a normal conversation. Yet he didn't get far as the bell rang again, looking back at his door with astounded eyes. Just who else would be coming over to visit?

Meanwhile Augusta continued to explore the underground home, walking around Bag End to admire the pictures, books, and wooden furnishings. This sort of luxury was practically nonexistent in most parts of Ashfeld outside of high-born nobles and local lords where she was from. There were cabinets filled with intricate china and other objects of value, along with many painted and sketched portraits hanging on the walls. Bilbo's home seemed to be far more spacious than what Augusta had expected as there were plenty of rooms to go around. Bedrooms, a bathroom, and a well-stocked kitchen with a lit fire all filled with personal items of Bilbo's possession. She also saw that roots from a tree had punched through the wall and ceiling but were trimmed down and painted to become an aesthetically pleasing addition to such a fine abode.

If she were facing the other way as she entered the hallway to gaze at a stack of books, she would have seen Balin and Dwalin setting up in the dining room. The elderly dwarf had just noticed the conqueror arrive and nudged Dwalin to get his attention. At first the warrior dwarf was confused but then saw what Balin was pointing at, seeing a woman in a black tunic and gold armor reach up to grab a book off a shelf and flip through the pages.

"Um, excuse me," Balin said, getting the conqueror's eyes on him, "Who might you be? Gandalf never informed us of a mercenary."

Augusta turned around to see a pair of dwarves talking to her. She knew they were dwarves, not just because of their size but by their beards. She'd seen the same thing in the stories from when she was a kid and could instantly tell that these two were certainly not hobbits. One of them had a long, groomed beard, reaching to his knees and stark white. The other was more frazzled, like a Viking berserker with much more volume. Augusta also noticed the dwarf's tattoos on his head and arms. He spelled warrior material.

The conqueror noticed that they were setting up a table in the dining room, with plenty of chairs stacked around, at least a dozen or so. Before he left her to find Bilbo's place, Gandalf had told her that he was going to get the 'others' while she went to Bag End, so that must have meant that they were getting ready for more guests. It was also no wonder that Augusta made them so confused, so she decided to make sure they knew she wasn't an intruder in their midst.

"The name's Augusta, Augusta Connolly, I'm kind of new around these parts," She said, introducing herself to him, and asked just to be sure, "You're both dwarves, right? The wizard man, Gandalf said that there would be dwarves here."

"Aye, lass. A friend of Gandalf's then? Well, a friend of Gandalf's is a friend of ours's. Balin, and Dwalin, at your service, miss Connolly." Balin bowed full-heartedly, and Dwalin gave a half-bow, never once taking his eyes off Augusta without saying a word. The conqueror was unused to such polite manners and could only stammer something that wouldn't seem rude.

"You too." Was all Augusta said, and again began wordlessly wondering what sort of world she had landed in. It really did seem like something out of a fairytale to ask a person if they were a dwarf or not. They heard voices coming from the front door where Bilbo was. It sounded like there were more guests coming in, guests that the dwarves recognized as Dwalin made his way over.

"Excuse me," he brusquely said, making his way past her.

"Hey lass, you mind helping me out with these. We've got many a guest coming over soon, don't want to have a paltry party." Balin asked the conqueror, holding up some plates in his hand.

"Sure," she shrugged and took a stack off Balin's hands, and started placing them on the table, "So when you were talking about guests, how many are we expecting?"

…

"Nope, you can't come in, nobody's home!" Bilbo attempted to shut the door but found a foot stuck in the entrance. If he could take a chance to make some dwarves go away, he was certainly going to take it. The two young dwarves standing out front however were not so easily deterred and knew full well that this was the place that Gandalf told them to go. Plus, they were having a little bit of fun with their overburdened host.

They were Fili and Kili, both brothers. Fili's braided blond hair and dark brown coat contrasted with his brother's messy black mane. There was a bow on Kili's shoulder, evidence that he was an archer. They both wore smiles on their faces, either from good manners or a sense of humor from messing with the hobbit.

"Has it been cancelled?" Kili asked, feigning a sense of disbelief.

"No one told us," Fili added.

"No," Bilbo began, confused with what the young dwarf was talking about, "No nothing's been cancelled."

"Well, that's quite a relief." Fili pushed the door open and marched on in, Kili right behind him walking with a confident stride into Bag End as if he owned the place.

"Careful with these," Fili said, handing over a literal armful of knives and short swords along with his coat, "I just had them sharpened."

Bilbo could only gawk at the sheer number of weapons that he was holding. How could one dwarf carry all this on him? Was he preparing for a war?

"It's nice, this place. Did you make it yourself?" Kili asked as he observed the interior of Bag-End with curiosity. Though he had some dirt clinging to his boots from the walk here, he couldn't be rude to his guest as to leave dirty footprints around. Kili started scraping his boot on a wooden box, a dowry chest, to get the mud off his soles. He had just finished when he spotted something shiny out of the corner of his eye, and when he went to look at what he'd seen the sight of it certainly wowed him. Sitting on a chair before him lay a flail, a shield, and a helmet, all plated and decorated in gold. They were ordained in skulls, two on the handle of the flail and one centered on the gilded shield. The helm had a face of a skull, complete with bone-shaped plating, and an ornamental one situated right on the forehead. The dwarf reached out and held it in his hands, feeling the weight of it as he inspected the intricate designs.

Fili leaned over his brother's shoulder to get a look as well, sharing the same curiosity as his fellow dwarf over the weapons. Speaking of which, Fili plucked the flail from the chair and spun the chain around, only stopping himself to cusp the head of the flail when it landed in his hand.

"Remarkable." Fili said, admiring the detail the flail had. Whoever forged this weapon certainly had the skills of a master weaponsmith. "What extraordinary craftsmanship!"

"Tell me Master Boggins, do these belong to you?" Kili held up the helmet and pointed at it so Bilbo knew what he was talking about. He never got to answer before someone else got their hands on the dwarf twins.

"Fili, Kili, come along, put those down and give us a hand." Dwalin interrupted their gawking with his presence, putting a brawny arm across Kili's shoulders as he marched back to the dining room with the younger dwarf in tow.

"Mister Dwalin," Kili gushed, smiling broadly as he was led towards the dining room where he saw Balin finishing up with the silverware with Augusta. Kili practically stopped dead in his tracks when he caught eye of the girl. His brother was not too far off with his own reaction the moment they saw her. Neither of them had been prepared to have a woman from the world of men in their midst, and both being young hot-blooded dwarves it was a welcome surprise. Quickly the sensation of shock turned into wonder.

"Who is that?" Fili asked, grabbing his brother's shoulders for personal support after seeing the pale-skinned beauty in front of them. She was tall as well, and she wore golden armor. Gold! Such an exotic feature only seemed to enhance her, a soldier from an unknown land.

"By Mahal, she's gorgeous." Kili added on, leaning on his brother's weight as he soaked in the lady's features as she finished setting up plates with Balin.

"And very tall!"

"That too!" Kili laughed.

"Well, what are you waiting for brother? Go on, don't be rude." Fili gestured for his brother, knowing that he was far more flirtatious than he was. Plus, it was only formal that they introduced themselves as proper dwarven royalty to a lady. Even if the lady was a warrior, and a human.

Augusta had just finished lining the silverware when she spotted another dwarf, one that had just arrived, walk over to her. Unlike the other dwarves she had encountered so far, he was young, with long flowing black hair coming down his head. The conqueror could tell his youth from his face, which bore a bright, friendly smile as he neared her.

"How do you do, miss?" He asked as he bowed slightly and extended his hand, "Kili, of the line of Durin, at your service. And my brother Fili, as well." He gestured to the other blonde-haired dwarf standing at the entranceway.

"I am well, thank you. Augusta Connolly, at yours." She responded, feeling more comfortable with the friendliness that these dwarves had. She grabbed his hand to shake it.

"Augusta? What a strong name you have, miss. Truly as majestic as you are." Kili said, obviously flirting with her. Augusta had to avert her face lest they see the blush growing on her cheeks. The conqueror had never been complimented on her name like that before.

"Kili, c'mon, quit your flirting and squeeze in more chairs. We're gonna need more room to fit in everyone." Balin ordered, and the young dwarf hopped right to it and leaving the red-faced conqueror alone.

"Everyone?! Who else is coming?" Bilbo cried out, having overheard Balin talking. He was still holding Fili's weapons in his hands as he witnessed the dwarves and woman start setting up chairs.

And then the doorbell rang again.

"Oh no," Bilbo had just about enough for tonight as his tempter finally got the better of him, "There's nobody home! Go away and go bother somebody else!" He yelled, tossing down the swords on a bench as he stomped his way over to the front door, without a doubt going to tell off whoever was stupid enough to test his patience for the umpteenth time.

"There's far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is! If this is some dunderheaded idea of a joke," Bilbo reached the front door and yanked it open, "I can only say that it is in very poor taste!"

And lo and behold, there were dwarves. Much more as they literally piled themselves into a mound in front of Bilbo. The hobbit could only balk at the mound of squirming dwarves, wondering who have wondered to invite them to his house at this hour. He got his answer when a familiar wizard wearing a pointy gray hat peeked from the doorway to check in on his guests and host.

Bilbo let out a huff.

"Gandalf."

…

"Oh yes, I'll have some of that!"

"Pass that here!"

"Come on, move it!"

The pantry became a madhouse as everyone began to settle in to Bag End. Augusta found it unlike anything she'd ever experienced when it came to dinnertime. Having thirteen dwarves in one household constantly moving about only added on to the flowing chaos.

Introductions were short and to the point between them and her. All of them were surprisingly welcoming to the lady conqueror, who quickly learned their names to not get confused.

There was Bifur, Bofur and Bombur. Bifur, the gray-black haired dwarf was an odd one, and only seemed to speak the dwarven language hap-hazard, played along with jerky hand motions, ("He means to say hello," Gandalf said to the confused conqueror after Bifur had tried talking to her in what sounded like pure gibberish.) most likely due to him having an axe blade embedded in his forehead, a trophy of a battle some years ago. Bofur, a hat-wearing dwarf with a long moustache and ponytails, had a very cheery and endearing personality compared to most of the other dwarves in the party. He had been one of the first to say hello to Augusta when he arrived. Then there was Bombur who was probably the girthiest dwarf she had ever seen. The term fat was an understatement for Bombur. He had orange hair with a bald spot on top of his head and a beard that looped across his stomach in a braid. He, too, welcomed the conqueror in their midst, though he spent most of his time eyeing her golden armor.

Along with them was Dori, Nori and Ori. Three brothers with similar names, much to Augusta's humor. When they had introduced themselves, Dori, the eldest of the trio, had spoken for them. He had a finely braided gray beard with a silver casing draped beneath his chin and talked with a very sophisticated and respectable manner to her. Very posh. Nori and Ori, the middle and youngest respectively, also greeted the conqueror after their brother had. Nori seemed very wiry, with a strange beard and set of hair that stretched out sideways. Ori, the youngest brother, was so polite it was almost unnerving. He had wide, boyish eyes, and a mutton-top cut with a small beard on his jawline. He seemed to be the youngest out of all the dwarves, but Augusta didn't really know that for sure, only by the way he spoke and acted.

And finally, there was Oin and Gloin. Oin was elderly, like Dori and Balin, and had a head full of faded gray hair. He had a beard, twin-split to form braids draping down his chin. He was also slightly deaf as he wore an ear trumpet when he asked for her name. ("August? Who in their right mind names their girl after a month?") And Gloin, who was probably the only dwarf of them all who initially distrusted Augusta since she was a "man". But after some convincing from Gandalf and Balin, he lowered his guard around her. For the moment. He had a massive red beard that stretched over his chin down to his chest and was also the last dwarf name to know.

Their hobbit guest had decided to excuse himself for a moment to get himself in more presentable clothes for his guests and arrived only to see them raiding his pantry for, well, everything inside. Bilbo watched with astonished eyes as they ferried his food over by the bowlful over to the dining room.

"E-Excuse me that's my… that's my chicken! Not my wine, excuse me!" The hobbit cried out, seeing the dwarves and the woman begin to drain his supply. Augusta found herself already snacking on some grapes as she grabbed the first thing she could, the roast beef, and whisk it from the shelf as Bilbo tried to maintain some order. And perhaps some sanity.

Until he got to Bifur, who spoke some sense of a language to him while pointing at his head.

"He's got… an injury." Oin said as he walked up behind the hobbit.

"What, you mean the axe in his head?" Bilbo sarcastically replied.

"Dead?" Oin responded, holding up his trumpet, "No, only between his ears. His legs work just fine." The dwarf walked off, leaving Bilbo back to his routine of attempting control.

"Put that back!"

"Put that back!"

"Not the jam, please."

"Um, a tad excessive, isn't it? Have you got a cheese knife?" Bilbo asked Bombur as the hefty dwarf walked off with three wheels of cheddar cheese in his arms.

"Cheese knife? He eats it by the block," Bofur replied, leaving the hobbit speechless. Bilbo turned around just in time to find Oin bringing over a chair, one that Bilbo had specifically kept away as an heirloom, not for sitting on. Meanwhile Gandalf was setting up silverware alongside some of the other dwarves, generally minding his own business.

"Excuse me, mister Gandalf?" Dori came by holding a tea set and asked the wizard, "May I tempt you with a refreshing cup of chamomile tea?"

"Oh, no thank you Dori. A little glass of red wine for me, I think." Gandalf said back and left the dining room to give a head count of the dwarves here.

"I'll have some of that tea, Dori." Augusta said, coming around the corner to speak to Dori. She never had tea before but had heard of the soothing drink from her friends back in Ashfeld, who said it was refreshing after a long day. Sounded like an opportune time to test her taste buds.

"Ah, wonderful miss Augusta. Here you are," He handed her a full cup of tea, "Now, if you don't mind me, I'll be fetching Gandalf that red wine."

"Hm. Thanks." Augusta nodded and dwarf was off, and the conqueror gently took a sip.

"Not bad."

"We appear to be one dwarf short." Gandalf admitted, finished with his counting in the hallway. There were twelve dwarves in here, with the thirteenth gone for some reason. One name that did not cross his lips.

"He is late, is all," Dwalin spoke up from the wizard's left as he downed a mug of ale, "He traveled north to a meeting with our kin. He will come."

"Mister Gandalf," Dori spoke up from behind the wizard, "A little glass of red wine as requested. It has a fruity bouquet to it."

"Ah, cheers Dori." Gandalf replied, taking the tiny glass in his hand to down it in a single gulp. He went to take another but found the glass empty, letting out a humored huff as he did.

A small glass, indeed.

…

When the last plate of food was set, dinner had finally started with a bang. Dinner with the dwarves was about as messy as it was combusting. Augusta sat on one corner next to Dori and Bofur as she dug in, scarfing down veggies, meat, and everything she could get a hand on. A handful of chips, and a sausage roll right after. Augusta had only ever seen this much food in the fortress halls of some daimyos in the Myre, or in the castles of the Iron Legion's top financiers and bank lords. Either Bilbo was well off or he had plenty to spare, and Augusta believed that it was a little bit of both.

"Bombur, catch!" Bofur called out, hurling a deviled egg at the fat dwarf who caught it in his mouth, which made the rest of the dwarves erupt in cheer. Augusta couldn't help herself but laugh as she downed another biscuit, stopping only to dip her chicken in some gravy. Some of the dwarves caught eye of her eating at such a pace.

"Goodness Augusta, you're inhaling your food like the end of days is here." Dori said, watching as the conqueror ate with such vigor. She finished chewing on a baby tomato before replying.

"I don't get to eat this much, so I'm making the most of it." She said back. Food was no longer such a harrowing concern in Ashfeld after the Blackstones were routed from power, but quality food such as this was still elusive. Rations for the Iron Legions armies were scant and bland at their best, and being a mercenary only allowed her to eat what means they had to feed her. It was usually a mix of bread, cheese and fruit for supplements, and meat had to be hunted from game.

"Then by all means, dig in!" Bofur cheered as they continued to feast. Though their hobbit host did not share their glee as he took in the sight of his empty pantry, now completely devoid of food. There wasn't even a loaf of bread left. The dwarves had literally taken everything and eating it in his own home.

"Who wants an ale?" Fili asked, literally walking on the table as he handed mugs to his friends, "There ya go!" He said, handing one over. The commotion continued, with Gandalf accidentally flinging tomatoes into the air after nearly being hit with a flying muffin.

"Here, 'ave another drink!" Dwalin shouted as he poured the remainder of his first mug into Oin's trumpet as a joke, "Here you go."

The warrior dwarf turned his empty mug upside down on the table, slamming his fists on the wooden surface as he laughed. And then Oin blew into his trumpet, spraying the ale over the table and letting out a hilarious squeak as it did. The rest of the dwarves were laughing alongside Dwalin. They got up and gave cheers, giving each of their mugs a good tap before they started chugging their ales. Fresh liquid spilled out from their beards as they drank, downing their drinks in large gulps. Right as they finished, Nori let out a series of belches. Ori continued behind him, standing up to let out a long burp that went on for several seconds much to the gathering's endless humor.

The only person not humored however, was Bilbo, whose temper and patience with his esteemed guests was rapidly dwindling. And for some odd reason, he knew that it was only going to get worse.

…

Dinner had ended, and the dwarves found themselves at their merry best inside of Bag End. Augusta, however, decided to continue her exploration of the hobbit hole. She did so at a leisurely pace, keeping a watching eye on the dwarves around her and the environment. She wound up finding herself in some sort of study room, complete with maps and large shelves filled with books. They were written in the common tongue, which came to Augusta's surprise.

"Something catchin' your eye, lass?" Augusta turned around to see Oin standing behind her, holding a mug of ale.

"I'm just curious." Augusta replied, going back to viewing the many titles that were showcased. Some of them were interesting, such as the History of Minas Tirith and The Mysteries of the Misty Mountains. One caught her eye; a book called The One Ring. She plucked the book from its place on the shelf and flipped through the pages. There was one that showed a battle with a man wielding a broken sword facing off against an armored tyrant shrouded in darkness, and on the monster's hand that clutched a mace, right on the pointer finger, was a golden ring.

"I guess you could call me curious as well then. So, how does a lady such as yourself end up looking like you?" Oin asked as he walked to Augusta's side. She knew what he meant. The conqueror decided to indulge the elderly dwarf with a tidbit of her history.

"Well, I was a soldier in a company many moons ago before I decided to strike out on my own." Augusta replied, telling him a half-truth.

"You were a soldier? What kind of army allows women to enter battle?" Oin sounded surprised. Female soldiers were practically unheard of for both races of men and dwarf. They were the fairer sex, after all.

"Everyone who could hold a sword and a shield was eligible for enlistment. Gender didn't matter when we were at war. I wanted to help get some coin for my family. My town, Firetrap, wasn't a shining beacon of prosperity back then." Augusta said, putting the book back on the shelf. Oin and Augusta made their way back to the living room where she could hear Gandalf and Bilbo having an intense argument. The hobbit was in a rather bad mood, and Augusta couldn't blame him. She recognized an overwhelmed introvert when she saw one.

"There's mud trailing the carpet!" Bilbo said to the wizard while pointing at the ground, "T-They've pillaged the pantry! I'm not going to begin on the state of the bathroom, they've all but destroyed the plumbing! I just don't understand what they're doing in my house!" The hobbit exasperatedly shouted, finally finished with his ranting with a hand on his forehead. It had been a long, tiring night.

"Excuse me," Ori asked, walking up to the hobbit with an empty plate in his hand, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"

"Here you go Ori, give it to me," Fili said as he walked on over, took the plate from the dwarf's hand. The last thing Bilbo, Gandalf and even Augusta expected was when he proceeded to fling it with an overhead toss straight towards his brother. The plate narrowly missed the wizard as avoided getting hit. Kili caught said plate mid-air, caught another flying plate from Fili and then tossed it straight to the kitchen where Bifur was waiting. Said dwarf managed to grab them facing the opposite way.

Soon it became a whole event where a dwarf would toss a dirty plate to Fili and then knock it towards his brother.

"E-Excuse me! That's my mother's West Farthing dining set, it's over a hundred years old!" The hobbit cried out, stunned how they were essentially using his dishes like toys. Fili showed off his skills by bouncing a bowl with his elbows and then sending it right to Kili.

Augusta heard clattering knives and forks and saw some of the dwarves clanging silverware together in rhythm, pausing occasionally to thump the floor. Bilbo heard this too, and the hobbit was far from pleased.

"And could you please not do that. You'll blunt them!"

"Ooh, did you hear that lads? He says we'll blunt the knives." Bofur said, and some of the dwarves laughed. At first Augusta thought they were at first being extremely rude and went to stop them, but Gandalf put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. He gave her a look that told her not to intervene, and she soon found out why.

"Blunt the knives, bend the forks!" Kili said-sung, knocking another dish to Bifur.

"Smash the bottles and burn the corks!" Fili added on.

"Chip the glasses and crack the plates!" The other dwarves began singing, and it was then Augusta finally began to see.

"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"

"Cut the cloth, trail the fat!"

"Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!"

At first the conqueror couldn't believe what she was seeing. Not only had the dwarves broken out in song, they were simultaneously cleaning up their mess. It was honestly one of the most outrageously good-mannered events she had seen in her life. She let out a gasp as a dish sailed past her face right into Bifur's hands. Some of the dwarves tossed their dishes into Oin's hands, forming a teetering tower, and the young dwarf waddled to the kitchen as the other dwarves went to the dining room and continued singing.

"Pour the milk on the pantry floor!"

"Smash the wine on every door!"

"Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl!"

"Pound them up with a thumping pole!"

"When you're finished if they are whole…"

"Send them down the hall to roll!"

As the dwarves were passing around silverware and dishware, Augusta saw that some of them had taken roles. Bombur was wiping off crumbs and scraps from the plates being passed around and feasting on them. Balin was sitting down, half-exasperatedly knocking back plates towards his fellow dwarves while Bofur and Oin were playing instruments. Bofur was using a lute and Oin was blowing into a tea kettle. Gandalf and Augusta watched on as they continued singing.

"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"

"Excuse me!" Bilbo barged into the dining room where, lo and behold, all his dishes were stacked spotless and tidy. Even the table had been wiped clean from crumbs and smudges from the dwarf's boots. Bilbo was utterly dumbfounded at the sight, and the dwarves laughed in good nature at the shocked hobbit's face. Gandalf made a gesture as if to say, "I told you so!" to Bilbo. Even Augusta couldn't help but join in on the merry laughter standing by Gandalf's side.

She too had been taken by surprise, and Gandalf lightly patted her shoulder to affirm her. She shrugged. What she thought was rudeness turned out to be quite the opposite. This night was just full of surprises for the conqueror.

And then the door knocked three times. It was loud enough to completely silence everyone in Bag End.

Gandalf spoke.

"He is here."