Author's Note: I own nothing. It has been a long time since I ventured into any kind of fantasy world that wasn't Harry Potter and therefore more modern. I hope this goes well.

There and Back Again: A Song of Souls

1 Planned Meeting, Sort Of

Thorin Oakenshield was perturbed. He'd been traveling for quite some time from the Blue Mountains where a meeting had been held just last month. It had not gone well. He would find no help there or it seemed from anywhere. All had seemed lost until he was approached by a man in all grey. He called himself Gandalf the Grey and claimed he could help on the quest Thorin was undertaking. They had talked at length. How Gandalf knew of his quest was a question the wizard would not answer, nor how he knew of the twelve dwarves who had volunteered to go with Thorin. They were to meet at a tavern in a small town called Bree, a central point close enough to where they had all been living for the sake of convenience. From there they would start the long hard journey to the Lonely Mountain. It would be a doomed quest, Thorin knew this. Thirteen dwarves were hardly an army equal to the task of killing Smaug. Gandalf though made another suggestion.

"It is not a viable idea to try and kill the dragon with just your company. I have had a thought on this. If you can retrieve the Arkenstone you can use that small victory to rally the remaining Dwarves of Erebor to your side, maybe even convince your cousin Dain from the Iron Hills to join your quest from there." The Wizard said taking a puff on his pipe. Thorin frowned.

"What are you suggesting Wizard?" He demanded.

"I am merely suggesting that perhaps at this moment, stealth would be preferable over force."

"None of my company is great shakes at stealth, save maybe one, and his small skill at going unnoticed is hardly a match for a dragon." Thorin pointed out. Gandalf nodded taking another long pull from his pipe.

"It seems to me what you are in need of is a burglar."

That conversation had been held in a small town near the foothills Ered Luin some three weeks ago. Gandalf had said he would leave a message in Bree with directions to where Thorin should go to find the burglar of whom he had spoken. When Thorin had reached Bree he'd been delivered a package by the Innkeeper of the Prancing Pony. In it was a necklace, a small coin on it, it looked almost like a compass. The instructions included with it had stated that the coin would grow warm and the markings like a compass rose would glow as he grew closer to his destination. That did not stop him growing terribly lost twice in this land. If he was not tired and hungry, and a little skeptical of the Wizard's plan to begin with, this place might have been pretty.

It was not pretty like Erebor had been with its grand majesty, or like the halls of Ered Luin and their soft grandeur. In fact it was wholly unlike any Dwarven Kingdom. But it lacked the rough feel of the world of men. There were houses spotted here and there above the ground but as he ventured further into this land he spotted doors set into the hills, surrounded by well cared for gardens. Sometimes he spotted light glinting off the windows set into the hills. He shook his head. It was nearing evening and someone was singing.

He glanced around before letting out a low swear in Khuzdul. The voice was not coming from anyone nearby, for there was no one nearby. Instead it echoed to him from inside his own mind.

Upon the hearth the fire is red,

Beneath the roof there is a bed.

It was not a song he knew well. He'd only heard her sing it a handful of times. He now did his best to shut her out. It wasn't easy, but he had other things to worry about right now. His sister Dis would have been so disappointed in him, not that she wasn't already angry with him.

'When your One sings you should listen!' She'd always insisted that. He had not heard his One even begin to sing before the fall of Erebor. Around eleven years after the dragon had taken the mountain the singing had begun. Nonsense at first, then as the years went by real songs. She was not a dwarf, he knew that. Many dwarf songs were sung in Khuzdul and she had never done so. He shook his head again as her song faded back to silence.

This was not an odd occurrence. Any being in possession of a soul had a perfect mate made for them to meet. It was one of the few things every race, but the Orcs, could agree on. Dwarves called it the One's Song. Elves, Thorin knew, called it Soul Singing. From his time living among men he knew they called it the Calling. He had no idea what the people of this land might call the connection. He did not much care at the moment. Sighing he pulled Gandalf's letter from his pocket. It was in Khuzdul, he'd have to remember that if the Wizard could write in the Dwarven tongue it was likely he could speak it too. Scanning through the lines he sighed. Gandalf had mentioned a person by the name Baggins in the letter. Baggins was to be their burglar then. The Wizard needed to work on his Khuzdul though, for it looked to Thorin like he'd misspelled Master Baggins. He sighed as he came to a stable and what looked to be a small tavern. The sign above the door read 'The Green Dragon'. Thorin pulled a face at that as the being, Hobbit it said in Gandalf's letter these people were called Hobbits, came stepping out of the Inn. He was shorter than Thorin by at least a foot and regarded him with a measured amount of confusion and what Thorin interpreted as judgment.

"Another Dwarf eh?" He asked lighting his pipe, his large hairy toes wiggling in the grass under his feet. "Been an odd amount of you 'round here today. But I suppose you'll want to put up your pony for the night as well?" Thorin nodded swinging himself off his pony. The innkeeper nodded at him, blowing a smoke ring before nodding again and taking the reigns from him. Thorin pulled a few coins from a small pouch on his belt and handed them over. He hesitated but with his luck so far he needed a bit more direction than Gandalf had provided. No one had to know he'd asked for directions.

"I am looking for a Baggins." He silently cursed the Wizard for not providing him the burglar's full name but the innkeeper nodded.

"That's what the others said too. You want to head up the hill." He pointed down a well tended road through the town of Hobbits. "Lives at the end of the lane. That's why they call it Bag End you see." He chuckled at his own joke. Thorin pulled his oaken shield and pack from the pony and slung both over his back. Turning into the town he made his way down the lane looking for this place called Bag End.

By the time he found it night had fallen and lights in the surrounding windows that were visible were going out, leaving starlight as the only thing to guide Thorin's way. The door of the dwelling was bright green, round and like nothing Thorin had seen. He wasn't quite sure if he'd found the right place until he spotted the rune at the bottom of the door. He sighed, shook his head and knocked on the door. It was opened by a complete surprise.

She stood a foot shorter than him, a mess of honey brown curls did little to hide bright brown eyes and small pointed ears. She wore a plain white tunic, and cream colored skirt, over which she seemed to have thrown an apron, for it was sitting slightly askew on her small hips. At the bottom of her skirt he could make out the same big feet covered in brown curly hair that the innkeeper had, a trait of Hobbits he supposed. He had to have the wrong place. But his apology died on his tongue as Gandalf ducked through a low round doorway. He nodded to the woman and stepped over the threshold.

"Gandalf. I thought you said this place was easy to find, I got lost twice." He said and heard stifled amusement from the woman who had opened the door. She was pretty, even with her lack of beard. She must be their burglar's wife, or perhaps his daughter, Thorin couldn't quite tell her age. Gandalf smiled. "If it hadn't been for the mark on the door I might not have found it at all."

"There's no mark on this door it was painted a week ago!" The woman cried out darting around Thorin to get a look at the door.

"There is a mark on that door. I put it there myself." Gandalf said and the woman shot him a look of such venom Thorin was a little shocked that a girl from a peaceful race like this could even manage it. Gandalf sighed. "Belladonna Baggins, I would introduce you to the leader of our Company, Thorin Oakenshield. Thorin, this is Belladonna Baggins, the burglar as promised." Thorin was a little thrown. He'd never heard of a female burglar, though he supposed those of that profession preferred it that way.