A lone figure on a bay horse lazily followed the dirt pathway into Bree, stopping short of the gate and dismounting. It was not quite sunset when she pounded on the door with her gloved fist.

"State your business," the guard on the other side opened the peephole to peer at the figure waiting to lead her horse into the town.

"Wisteria. Ranger." She wasn't normally short on words, but she had an agenda to keep thanks to a certain wizard. Nor was her birth name Wisteria, it was Tiamora, however the residents around Bree knew her by the name Wisteria. Flora names were common around these parts and she will always cherish the hobbit who gave her that name.

"Ah! Miss Ranger, welcome back!" The man opened the gate and she led her horse in. She nodded at the man and moved on up towards the stables near The Prancing Pony Inn. She knew the man running the Inn and the hobbit who looked after the stables, so she would have no problem leaving Atlas there.

"Bob," She greeted the hobbit who was shoveling fresh hay into a stable. "Could you look after Atlas for a night or two? I have some business in Hobbiton. I'll pay extra."

"No need for you to pay extra Miss Wisteria. You've been good to us here in Bree." Bob chipperly stated as he leaned on his pitchfork. Bob was always kind to her, despite his gruff exterior - as gruff as one could look for a hobbit.

She nodded and led Atlas into a clean stable and started the process of hanging up the tack and saddle equipment on the areas provided in the stall. Bob knew that Atlas didn't need much care, as Druid horses were slightly different than mortal horses. She collected her satchel and her staff from the holder on Atlas's saddle. When she was finished, she gave Atlas a few rubs on the nose and started to make her way out of the stables and back to the gates of Bree. She wanted to get to Hobbiton before dark, although it looked like it might be after dusk for her arrival to the home of their host. Housing dwarves isn't an easy task. With that, she set off towards Hobbiton, nodding at the gatekeeper on her way past.

When she arrived in Hobbiton, the sun was setting a beautiful shade of orange with a hint of pink and purple on the horizon. Her staff softly tapping the dirt beneath her feet. She nodded to some of the straggling hobbits in the marketplace that she recognized from her time in Bree, as she roamed around the hillside path looking for the poor hobbit that would be hosting this evening. All Gandalf said was to head for the Shire while he found the burglar to aid the dwarves on their quest. She didn't know what to expect when she found the home. What did she know? She knew that there were thirteen dwarves on a quest to reclaim… something. She wasn't going to lie, she had gotten distracted by a cute guy with a nice ass up at the bar when Gandalf was explaining it to her. Hm. That'd make for a joke. So, thirteen dwarves, a wizard, a Druid Ranger, and a burglar all walk into a pub - Out of the corner of her eye she saw it. The dwarvish rune carved into a green door. A glowing blue 'F'. It was evening now, for the sun had set about half an hour ago.

Tiamora opened the small gate that reached her upper thigh and began to make her way up to the door. She knew that hobbit homes were small, but with her near 5 and a half foot height, she should be alright. From what she could tell, it was a lovely home and the garden was beautifully kept. She thought, then again it was dark. She rang the little bell that hung just next to the door and waited. There were some muffled voices coming from inside. She twisted her staff back and forth between her fingers. There was silence now, she assumed that she had been heard.

The door opened rather abruptly by a familiar hobbit who had quite an agitated look on his face. It changed when he saw her.

"Miss Wisteria," Bilbo said in surprise "I didn't know that you were arriving. However, now is not a good time I'm afraid. I have...company."

Tiamora hummed in agreement, amusement, and sympathy at the news.

"Unfortunately, Master Baggins, that company is why I'm here. Has Gandalf explained it to you yet?" If he hadn't, then that would definitely complicate some things.

"Ga-Gandalf? No he hasn't explained anything at all! I- Oh, where are my manners. Please come in." After being briefly bewildered, Bilbo steps aside and ushers Tiamora through the door.

She stepped in, ducking her head just a little. The cool of the night left her as soon as Bilbo closed the door, a cozy warmth entered her bones and she relished the moment for a split second before remembering the reason for her visit.

"Master Baggins-"

"Bilbo, please. We do know each other after all."

"Ah yes, after a rare moment of drinking you under the table, after a particularly interesting night at the Green Dragon if I recall correctly." Tiamora teased, chuckling at the memory. The hobbit could hold his drink well for someone of his height. Bilbo's cheeks reddened briefly at the memory.

"Unfortunately as I said, a friendly visit is not why I'm here; if Gandalf has not told you why, then it will have to wait until he arrives. Ah, may I?" She gestured at one of the free coat racks.

"Oh! Please, go ahead."

Tiamora unclasped her cloak, the clasps a shining silver of two antlers with outreached wings, parting vertically in the middle. She draped it over the hook and placed her satchel strap on top of her cloak. It wasn't heavy, or, at least it was charmed to be that way. She held onto her staff, one of the first lessons she was ever taught. A Druid staff is an amplifier for power. They can be powerful without one, but adding a staff that is embedded with magic opens up all sorts of possibilities.

Bilbo gestured for her to follow him further into his home. She obliged and followed him down to where the muffled voices had started up again. Two dwarves came into view. One that was quite tall and intimidating for a dwarf, and the other was another familiar face. Both dwarves turned towards them as they came into view of the aggressively arched doorway.

"Master Balin. It is a surprise and a pleasure to see you." Tiamora raised her eyebrows at his presence.

"Ah! It has been a while since our meeting in Ered Luin all those years ago, Miss Mora." Balin chuckled, a warm smile on his face as he greeted her merrily.


They had met at an inn just outside of the Blue Mountains years ago. The name escaped her, not that she was paying attention to it. All that she knew was that she needed a drink and she needed it bad. She had just finished dealing with an orc raid that happened upon a group of travellers while they were trying to sleep. They were extremely foolish for travelling without a guide, however, she couldn't blame them. Those roads were supposed to be safe. Thankfully, they were heading towards the Blue Mountains and they didn't have very far to travel, so she escorted them to their destination. It took a day and a half, but they were safely inside the gates and onto their business.

All that mattered was that she found an inn. A place for food, drink, and a bed she could crash in for a night. After haggling with the current barkeep about her age, she ordered a pint and a plate of food and practically collapsed into a corner table out of view from most of the patrons. Sometimes she hated how young she looked, you would think that at 191 years of age, she would look older. She knocked back a good third of her mug before she put it down, she then started on her bowl of hearty stew and bread. Dwarves were particularly fond of stews and whatever they could make with meat as an entrée and they were amazing at it. Her chestnut hair had started to come undone from her mohawk braid, small wisps of locks falling into her view. She had finished most of her plate and was working on her pint, when an older dwarf had walked into her view.

"Judging by the staff you have there lass, I'd wager that you're a Druid." Tiamora looked up and stopped chewing on her bread.

"You'd wager correctly then. You've a sharp eye."

"Aye, I've been told. Do you mind if I sit lass?" He gestured to the empty booth opposite of her. She nodded and swallowed down the rest of her bread. Her mother tried to teach her manners, but she was tired and hungry. She didn't care. The dwarf gently flagged down a barkeep and gestured for a pint of ale. Tiamora watched him with interest, her guard only half raised. Her staff was propped next to her. There was no way that he could reach it if he tried without her interfering.

"Balin. Son of Fundin. Dwarf of the Blue Mountains. At your service, lass." The dwarf across from her had stated his name.

"Tiamora. Druid. At yours, Balin Son of Fundin. Sorry that I don't have more to offer you than my name." She gave him a soft smile, she wasn't as grumpy now that she had eaten and had relaxed for a bit.

"It's quite alright lass. So, what's a druid doing in these parts? Not that I mean offense lass, you simply look a little worse for wear."

Tiamora grunted with a smirk. She had a nice bruise that was forming on the right side of her chin, she could feel it. Not to mention the small cuts and bruises on her face and hands.

"Stumbled upon an orc raid trying to have it easy on a group of travellers heading up to the mountains. Did my job, got rid of the orcs, and escorted them up to the gates. Haven't slept in a while and am damn hungry."

Balin chuckled at that. He had heard that Druids were very different compared to other races, particularly in how they handled things. The two of them proceeded to chat about everything and nothing. Simply enjoying the ambiance of the inn with the raucous laughter and shouting from different dwarvish patrons. When the two of them left, they had a good relationship. They would be friends if they ever saw each other again. If not, they would remain acquaintances. Yet, there was fate intervening. Not that either of them minded, they both had some interesting stories to share.


Tiamora smiled at the memory. Those were some interesting times, she was younger and easily irritated due to the way she aged. Then again, that was 23 years ago. It was nice to meet someone who didn't treat her like a child, especially now, since she was 214. The equivalent of a human 21-year-old.

"This here, is my brother Dwalin. Don't let the look fool you, he's as good as they come; a bit stubborn though." Balin gestured to Dwalin who had his arms crossed and had an intensely intimidating look on his face.

"Tiamora. At your service, Master Dwalin." She said with a bow. After a few moments, he returned her bow with a proper introduction of his own. It seems that knowing his brother put her on a good path with him. From what she could tell fully about Dwalin, he was a suspicious and guarded fellow, but could be good company.

"So, Miss Druid. What's your weapon of choice? I notice that you don't have one." Dwalin stated, whether out of curiosity or scrutiny, she didn't care. She understood, she didn't wear a sword nor an axe of any kind.

"Tiamora, please. I'm a magic user, potioneer, and shieldmaiden. I have the ability to shift my staff into a sword and the ability to conjure a shield when needed." She insisted on her name.

She shifted her staff into a beautiful steel blade that was tinted an emerald green. The crossguard was in the shape of two outstretched wings. A silver etching of antlers was embedded in the handle. After the brief demonstration, she shifted it back to her staff. Dwalin nodded in appreciation and understanding. She was a fellow fighter, and knew what she was doing. He had heard the tales of Druids and how powerful they could be in battle. She would do just fine on this journey. The doorbell rang once shortly after. Bilbo was looking quite agitated however, as he began stalking towards the door. Tiamora was tempted to follow after him, however she was swept up into a discussion about food and meals with the two brothers. However, she was able to hear a little of the commotion going on at the front door.

"Nope! You can't come in! You've come to the wrong house." That was Bilbo, for certain. She couldn't hear the response well enough to distinguish the words, but it sounded like two voices.

"Can- No, nothing's been cancelled!" Certainly Bilbo again. She could hear the response better this time.

"Well that's a relief."

Tiamora could hear footsteps, talking, and the sound of Bilbo blubbering about in a tizzy. She was about to step out of the pantry to investigate when Balin caught her attention once again.

"Have you eaten yet, lass?"

"Hm?" She leaned on her staff. "No I haven't, I figured that I would wait for everyone else."

"If you do that lass, there may not be anything left." Balin chuckled at her response.

"Fili. Kili. Come on, give us a hand." Dwalin huffed.

"Mr. Dwalin." One of the voices chuckled in awe. They were moving back down towards the pantry.

"Come lass, we need to start preparations." Balin agreed with his brother, they didn't have much time.

"Of course, let me know how I can help. Saints know I'm not helpless." Tiamora mused as they moved out towards the hall.

"Shove this in the hallway, otherwise we'll never get everyone in." Balin instructed as two new dwarves came into view.

"Everyone?! How many more are there?" Oh dear, poor Bilbo. He wasn't ready for this.

"Ah! Fili, Kili. This is our Druid, Tiamora. She's a ranger and a good fighter too." She turned her attention to the two young dwarves. Judging by the names and other similarities, she would guess that they're brothers. Or at the very least, related.

"Tiamora. Druid and Ranger, Potioneer and Shieldmaiden. At your service, Master dwarves." She bowed politely with a nod of her head. She couldn't tell what was more amusing, the two brothers with looks of awe on their faces or poor Bilbo in the background who was practically frothing at the mouth. The poor hobbit would faint soon. If it wasn't for his height, she was sure that he would strangle the wizard for this. The bell rang once again. Things were about to get interesting.

Oh no. No, no! There's nobody home!" Bilbo, when you shout it like that, there is certainly someone home. Tiamora smiled and shook her head as she began assisting in moving chairs and shifting tables.

"Go away and bother somebody else! There's far too many Dwarves in my dining room as it is! I-if-if this is some clot-head's idea of a joke," Bilbo raged towards the front door letting out a cynical laugh, "I can only say it is in very poor taste!" He swung open the door. She could hear it on the hinges, followed by shouts, a large thump, and groans. Oh yes, things were about to get very interesting.