An hour elapsed before Morine felt it was safe enough to leave from behind the large blackened tree stump, feeling vulnerable in the barren landscape. She had spent the hour studying the horizon for signs of the fiery dragon and slowing her heart rate until she convinced herself that the dragon was not coming back. The Lonely Mountain was a two days' walk from here, and every minute that she spent in the open desolation was a danger to her life. "Curse you, Gandalf," she grumbled to herself as she packed up and headed to the mountain with all the speed she could muster.

The threat of Smaug's return weighed heavy on her and pushed Beorn to the back of her mind. She could hardly sleep a wink for fear of being discovered. The only known entrance to the dwarven halls was an opening in the mountain called the South Gate, and it was there that she headed in hopes of tracking the company.

After dawn the next morning, as she neared the mouth of the cavernous halls, she spotted the company leaving through the South Gate. Even at this distance, the shine and sparkle of gems and fine metals caught her eye as they climbed down the gigantic steps leading up to the gate. She smiled at their courage and successful looting of the dragon's den in the wake of his absence. She shook her head that she had underestimated them, though she suspected their cunning burglar was largely responsible. Her feet fell on the ground as softly as an elf's as she pursued the clunky company that trooped from the South Gate along the western arm of a huge spur of the mountain.

Eventually, they reached an outpost that she would later know as Ravenhill—an old lookout point from the peaceful days before the dragon's usurpation. They had entered the guard room when Morine laboriously finished the climb. Their excited voices echoed outside as she stood atop the flattened ground and looked around. The guardroom was built into the mountain on the north side, but there were no other obstructions from the wide open view of the south, east, and west. Another smart choice for the company, if no one else had seen them come here, as they would now have plenty of warning of approaching danger.

Having just arrived and thrown down their bundles, the dwarves were not yet on guard when she walked through the small entry door of the guardroom. Their welcome was less than warm. Axes, swords, and the like were braced for attack as she raised her hands high in surrender.

"Who goes there?" Gloin asked roughly, her figure but a shadow in the doorway.

"It's Morine," she said, raising her hands above her head as in surrender.

It was not until Bilbo said, "This is no way to welcome a friend" that the wary company began to lower their weapons. He stiffly stood and trotted over to shake her hand. "We meet again," he smiled.

Morine smiled back, and gripped his little hand firmly. "So we do," she agreed.

Some of the dwarves looked skeptical, thinking that if she had found them, anyone or anything could find them. Indeed, they were not as stealthy as they thought they were, aside from Bilbo.

"Why are you here?" Gloin asked her as a grumpy liaison, arms crossed.

"To offer my services," she quickly lied.

"If we wanted your services, we would have asked for them," Dori pointed out.

Thorin stood tall and straight among the discontented company while Bilbo stood beside her, intrigued that the hobbit had called her a friend. "Is it true that you are here to offer assistance?" he asked with piercing eyes. "If so, you will be greatly disappointed that we have no intentions of splitting our treasure into fifteenths." The company was in enthusiastic agreement, as no one wanted to receive less payment than they deserved.

To be clear, Morine spat, "I am not here for your precious treasure."

Thorin looked mildly insulted and squinted his eyes in disbelief, arms crossed.

"Gandalf insisted that I help you," she clarified.

Thorin's face turned red in the dark room as he tried to calm down. The woman had risked the company's safety by following them here, and the meddlesome wizard had no business deciding whose help he needed, aside from the burglar's. Bilbo had proven more than useful to the group, even saving their lives a few times, and so he was inclined to give her a chance at Gandalf's recommendation, despite his pride. Slowly, he asked, "How can you help us?"

Looking around, there was nothing but rock in the empty room. She could not risk going outside to shoot an arrow. Setting down her things, Morine ordered the dwarves to give her room. With surprising ease, she concentrated her energy into the form of a whip and gripped it tightly, and the lightning crackled loudly and echoed as she swirled it above their heads. When she cracked the whip, thunder rumbled and shook the mountain, making a few of them tremble in fear, their awestruck faces illuminated in the blue-white light. Bilbo clapped excitedly as he had the day in the meadow as the energy fizzled. A few of the dwarves' hair stood on end with the electricity.

She bowed low to a speechless Thorin with a cheeky smirk and said, "Morinehtar, at your service."

Not since Gandalf had flamelessly lit pinecones and hurled them at the wolves had he seen magic. Morine's was more impressive and dangerous to behold. Not wanting to make an enemy of her or flout Gandalf's opinion, Thorin cleared his throat. "Well then, you are welcome to join our party on the condition that you expect to receive no payment." It was a bluff—he would have gladly paid the wizard a handsome sum to stay and help them, hoping that perhaps she would solve the problem of the missing dragon, but he did not want to have to pay her if he did not have to. Besides, if she was being honest and was truly here on Gandalf's orders, then she should not have expected payment. Although, he would not put it past the tricky old man to promise her as much. Gandalf was known for being as manipulative as he was benevolent.

"My only payment will be ridding your home of the evil Smaug," she said rather nobly.

The dwarves were content with her presence and assumed their previous places, a few watching the wintry horizon as the rest entered the inner room that was considerably less drafty and chilly. Taking a seat next to Bilbo, he asked as politely as he could as to the state of her provisions, having food on his mind as usual. She laughed softly as his simplicity. "Here, I have some honey," she said, pulling out the little jar that was half full. It was much too sweet for her liking, and she had used it sparingly and only when necessary. Bilbo proffered something biscuit-like to put the honey on.

"What's this?" Morine asked, inspecting the food item.

"It is called cram," he explained. "The generous people of Lake-town provided it for us."

She poured a bit of honey on before consuming it. The chewiness caught her off guard, and it was rather bland tasting. "Good stuff," she said sarcastically, though she was in no position to complain. A person cannot survive on honey alone for long periods of time, though perhaps Beorn could. She turned her mind to washing down the cram with water from her flask to shake the thought of him.

When they had finished their portions of cram, long after their jaws were sore from chewing, Morine asked Bilbo to fill her in on their journey since leaving Beorn's house. He told her of their long journey through the forest, including Bombur's near drowning in the black river. "Three times we saw the lights of elven gatherings off of the path, and being nearly starved to death, we tried to ask for their help and obtain some food, but each time, they kicked the fires out and left us in the dark." Morine shook her head in disapproval, though unsurprised. She had heard of the elven kingdom's disdain for outsiders.

Bilbo told her of the spiders. "When I entered the circle of webs, invisible of course, I found the dwarves spun into bundles and hanging upside down. I knew I could not take down every spider, and the only thing I could think to do was tease them." He sang the songs word-for-word that had angered the spiders away from their webs in his squeaky voice while Morine smiled. The hobbit was witty and clever, and she wondered if all hobbits were as good natured as he was.

"After narrowly escaping the spiders, we were captured by the elves."

"We?" Dori suddenly piped in. "You ran around free as a bird while we were shackled and thrown into prison."

Morine quickly covered a giggle that threatened to escape. "They arrested you? Whatever for?" Morine wondered what excuse the rude elves gave them, though the Elvenking did not need to give reason.

"Trespassing without his permission," the dwarf grumbled.

"Yes, well," Bilbo dithered as he fiddled with his fingers. Morine understood that he had been wearing his ring and was invisible at the time of capture. The hobbit also seemed endowed with unnaturally good luck. "After a few weeks, I came up with a plan to help them escape."

"Not the greatest plan," she heard Dori grumble.

The hobbit told how he had obtained the cells' keys from the drunken chief guard and used the king's empty wine barrels to stow the dwarves in. Her voice gave a deep chuckle at the thought of the moody dwarves stuffed into the barrels as they swept down the river. "Well, it worked," Bilbo pointed out defensively to Dori, who continued to give him a hard time about the ill-devised plan. "I didn't see you coming up with a better plan," he retorted. Dori shrugged as he continued the story.

While Morine had never been to Lake-town, also known as Esgaroth, the description sounded breath-taking. Her eyes widened and breath hitched at the thought of an entire town being built upon the surface of a deep lake. "It was a maze of wooden structures and staircases. I must say, the people were rather glad to see us," Bilbo said. "Thorin was not shy about presenting himself to the Master, as they call him, and they spared us no kindness. They provided us with ponies to travel up the River Running, and delivered us as far north as they would go."

It amazed her that the company met generosity wherever they went, and she felt another pang of longing for Beorn before she mentally kicked herself for it. Bilbo continued to tell her of their journey to the dangerous mountain, and she listened intently at how he had discovered the secret door and found the way to open it. She shook her head at his luck, that he had been standing there at the perfect timing of the setting sun and crescent moon. "Thorin slipped his key in the hole at the last possible second," he said rather dramatically, though she doubted the he was exaggerating. Even as a wizard, the magical nature of Middle Earth still caught her off guard, as she thought she had left such things back in the Undying Lands.

His retelling of the conversation with the dragon enraptured her, and she was amazed that so much courage came in such a small package. Seeing the frightful dragon herself, she told herself that she could not have done what Bilbo did as he showed her the naked back of his feet and singed hair from Smaug's flames.

"He was awfully mad about the cup I had stolen and that we had found a way in. Once I escaped the tunnel, I convinced the company to hide inside, and just in time, too!" he said. "For not but a minute after we shut the door—and locked ourselves in, I might add—Smaug attacked the mountain right where we had been camped." Morine nodded her head, realizing that must be what she had witnessed from her hiding place. She let him finish the story until he asked, "How ever did you find us?"

She took a sip of water before answering, "I saw you leave through the South Gate early this morning. I followed you here."

"Ah." They sat in the silence for a moment before he pondered aloud, "I wonder where he went." Every countenance in the room darkened at the reminder of the dragon's absence.

Morine shivered as it occurred to her the direction that the dragon had flown. Turning somberly to Bilbo, she told him, "I saw him the night he attacked the mountainside." With dread, she said, "He flew southward, down the river." Bilbo gasped. "You said he figured out that you had ponies, and I believe he knew where you got them."

He whispered, "Poor Lake-town."