PART ONE: ANACHRONISM

Chapter II: Crazy Dwarves With Swords

The room was small, lit by a roaring fireplace, and made entirely of stone as if it had been carved from the inside of a mountain. I shifted in a wooden chair and tried to make myself comfortable. I was aware that he was watching me and that he didn't believe me, but I knew I had to convince him so I kept talking. "…Then I woke up in this room and I saw you and I decided—hey, since I know you, maybe you'll help me find my friends."

Thorin stared at me.

He hadn't changed much since the last time I saw him… Aside from the fact that he was no longer being chased by a dragon. His beard was shorter now and streaked with gray. He also wore pants and a white tunic instead of armor, but other than that he looked the same.

When I'd first Skipped to the room, he'd been standing behind a wooden table that was covered with a pile of recently-polished weapons—swords and axes and knives. But as I'd told my story, Thorin had moved to stand in front of the table, closer to me. Now, he took a step forward and stared at me for a good long time before he said, "You are Ana?"

"Yep." I nodded, willing him to believe me.

There was a pause, and then almost softly, Thorin said, "That girl died. One-hundred-and-seventy-years ago. In Smaug's fire."

"No, I Skipped before he could kill me—though it's an easy mistake to make." I paused. "One-hundred-and-seventy years ago? Man, you look good."

Thorin stared.

I scratched the back of my head and grinned sheepishly. "So then, can you help me?"

"Help you in what manner?"

"Help me find my friends."

"No." There it was. Refusal. Flat out refusal.

I frowned. "Why not?"

Thorin took a step away from me and then turned so that he was facing the fireplace. "I cannot cast aside my people to help your quest across Middle Earth to find two humans who might not even be here."

"But! But! But!" I leapt up from my seat. "You've known me since I was little. We met in Erebor when Smaug attacked."

Thorin stared into the flickering flames, as if thinking each word over carefully. "She died. I watched that little girl die."

"Skipped," I corrected. "You watched the little girl—me—Skip away just in time. Though it is an easy mistake to make. Even so, we should be even closer since you witnessed my death!"

Thorin's eyes snapped to mine. For a second, I thought he was angry, but then the emotions disappeared, and his voice was flat when he said, "No."

"Come on, please?"

"No."

I crossed my arms. "It's my birthday."

Thorin gave me a scathing look. "No, it is not."

"Okay, okay." I silently cursed myself for including that detail in my story. "My birthday was a few days ago—but still, a good person would help me."

"It would be better for both of us if you did not linger here." Thorin seemed to be having some sort of internal struggle, though I had no way of knowing what it was. Finally, he said, "Skip back to your home, Ana. You do not yet know who dwells in these halls."

I folded my arms across my chest and tried to look intimidating. "You don't scare me."

Thorin stared at me before crossing the room to the table of weapons. I watched him, unsure of what he was thinking. There was something unreadable in his blue eyes. Then, he pulled a nicely polished sword from the table and turned to me.

"You Skip when your life in in danger," he said. "Return to your home, Ana."

I took one look at the sharp edge of the sword and then bolted for the door. Thorin chased after me. The door was closer to him, but I had a head start. I managed to reach the door when he grabbed me from behind and spun me around. The Skip wouldn't give Thorin a chance to skewer me with the sword, but I'd rather not give him the chance to try. However, Thorin pinned my arms behind my back with one hand. No matter how hard I struggled, I couldn't break his grasp. I gave up, my back pressed against the wooden door and the metal handle digging into my ribs.

"Skip now if you can," he said, his voice low and rough.

"I told you," I snapped. "It comes and goes. I have no control—"

The door opened.

I screamed. The wood that was propping us up disappeared, causing Thorin and I to come crashing down to the ground. He dropped his sword, and it clattered against the stone floor. I was trapped under Thorin's weight, but I managed to lifted my head to see that we lay in a hallway at the feet of another dwarf.

I stared up at the stout newcomer with a long, gray beard tucked into his red belt. He stared down at Thorin and me, his eyes wide in confusion.

"Uh." The dwarf was at a loss for words.

"Help!" I cried, trying to push Thorin off me. "He's trying to kill me!"

Thorin stood up, his gaze flickering between the dwarf and me. I tried to escape, but before I could even stand, he grasped me by the collar of my shirt and held on tightly.

"Do not concern yourself, Balin," said Thorin quickly. "She is my problem."

"Problem?" My voice was unusually high-pitched.

"Ah." Balin glanced over me. "Are you certain?"

"She is smaller than I am, and she cannot use a weapon," said Thorin. He gave me a shove so that I was turned away from Balin and forced to face the door. "I have no fear of her."

"I came to you for help," I cried, "and this is how you treat me?"

"She is no dwarf," said Balin. "Is there a need to be so rough against an unarmed female?"

I tried to look over my shoulder at Balin, but Thorin kept me firmly facing the door.

Finally giving up on trying to escape, I glared over my shoulder at Thorin. "I'm human. And I'm not explaining the whole Skipping thing again."

Thorin ignored both of us and asked, gruffly, "What news brings you to my door, Balin?"

"Er—" Balin was reluctant to speak in my presence. I would have been more than happy to leave if Thorin didn't have an iron grip on the back of my sweater.

"Never mind her," said Thorin. "I will deal with her later. Say what you have come to say."

Balin hesitated a moment longer before saying, "Gandalf the Gray wishes to meet with you."

"Meet?" asked Thorin.

"Gandalf?" I asked.

"A wizard," explained Balin. "He—" He stopped then, and I managed to catch a glimpse over my shoulder of Balin looking at Thorin with a silent question.

However, Thorin made no move to explain my existence, and instead, ignoring me entirely, Thorin asked, "Why does Gandalf wish to meet?"

"I do not know." Balin glanced at me. "His message was brief, but he says it concerns Erebor."

Thorin stiffened. His grip on my shirt loosened ever so slightly. "Erebor? Why does a wizard concern himself with the Lonely Mountain?"

"What's that?" I asked.

"It is our homeland which Smaug—" Balin stopped himself again with a glance in my direction.

"We will meet with Gandalf the Gray, and see what deal he wishes to strike with us." Thorin made sure I was turned towards the door again, so I couldn't see what was going on. Apparently forgetting that I could hear everything, Thorin continued to talk. "Where and when does he desire the meeting place to be?"

"He wishes to meet at the Inn of the Prancing Pony in Bree," said Balin carefully.

"When?" asked Thorin.

Balin said nothing, and when I peered over my shoulder, I saw that he was looking at me.

"When?" repeated Thorin.

"In a full moon's time." Balin's voice was almost a whisper.

"A full moon? That is not long from now."

"It is the Lonely Mountain," said Balin. There was some deep meaning behind his tone that I didn't understand.

"Is the Lonely Mountain the place where Smaug killed me?" I asked.

There was a pause. Balin's brow furrowed in confusion. In a slow voice, he asked, "You say Smaug killed you in the Lonely Mountain?"

Thorin gave me a rough shake by the back of the shirt and said loudly, "Balin, focus. If we wish to meet with Gandalf, we will need to depart as soon as possible. Tomorrow morning would be best."

Balin nodded. He picked up Thorin's fallen sword and handed it to him. Thorin took the sword, careful to keep a firm grip on my shirt so that I could not flee at the sight of the sharp and lethal weapon.

"We will discuss this matter further another time," said Thorin. "First, I have to deal with this."

Making sure my back was turned to Balin, Thorin opened the door and shoved me back into the room. It slammed shut behind us. He guided me over to the wooden seat, and I practically fell into it. I immediately tried to get up, but Thorin placed a hand on my shoulder and kept me pinned down. It was terrifying, how strong he was compared to me. I'd encountered trolls and wolves before, yes, but none of them had held me down with just one hand. Hopefully, the Skip would take me away soon. I needed to find Bonnie and Nick; I didn't have time for crazy dwarves.

"The matter remains," said Thorin, "of what I should do with you."

"Help me?" I suggested.

"No."

"Not kill me?"

"Perhaps."

I sighed and leaned back in the chair. Thorin removed his hand from my shoulder, though he did not set down the sword, I noticed.

"So, you're going to try to take back the Lonely Mountain?" I asked. "From Smaug?"

Thorin stared at me. "Perhaps."

"Just warning you, Smaug's no walk in the park."

He paused, as if trying to register what I had just said. Then, after a moment, he asked, almost innocently, "You speak in tongues I do not understand. What is a 'park'?"

"Never mind," I said. "It's an expression."

His eyes seemed to lighten at that comment, but I might have been imagining things. It was hard to tell, because his expression remained cold as he asked, "What should I do with you? I cannot leave you here."

"Just out of curiosity," I said, "where is here exactly?"

He ignored me and began pacing back and forth in front of the wooden chair. "I cannot take you with me to Bree."

"Where is Bree?"

Thorin stopped pacing and stared at the fireplace.

"I don't know these places," I said loudly. "Tell me something, at least."

"We are in the Blue Mountains," said Thorin, finally turning to look at me. "Bree is a small town southeast of here."

I tried to smile up at him. "See, that wasn't so hard."

Thorin went back to his pacing. He looked so frustrated that I almost felt bad for being such an inconvenience.

"Don't worry," I said. "I usually disappear after a while. The longest I've ever stayed in Middle Earth was only a day. Except for this one time—"

"Only a day with you is enough for me."

"Thanks," I muttered. "Your sarcasm is appreciated."

"That was not sarcasm."

"I know. I'm pretending it is." I smiled up at Thorin

Thorin stared at me for a moment. Then he let out a long sigh and leaned back against the wooden table. The metal weapons rattled slightly as the table shifted. "I could always try to kill you. You said you Skip whenever your life is threatened."

"Let's not test that theory again," I said slowly. "Jumping off a building once was more than enough for me."

Thorin's mouth tugged into a frown. "Did you—?"

Skip.

I was lying face down on the sidewalk, my cheek pressed against the rough concrete. For a moment, I didn't want to move. But then, I rolled over onto my back and stared up at the inky night sky and the tops of the ten-story downtown office buildings. I rubbed my cheek and sighed. After all that, I was back in Ohio.

A man in a suit stepped around me, shooting a look of disgust in my direction. I smiled and waved, and to my relief, he quickly walked away.

Groaning, I sat up. I was on the sidewalk beneath my apartment building, which I had jumped from earlier. At least the Skip hadn't brought me back halfway down the building. That would have been bad.

I didn't head back home but rather went straight to the nearest coffee shop. Thankfully, the Starbucks nearest to my apartment was still open. I went inside and ordered a latte—no sugar and an extra shot of espresso.

"You look like you need one," said the man working there (according to his nametag, his name was Ted).

"Yeah, well, try falling from a six-story building and ending up inside a blue mountain with a crazy dwarf and see how you feel," I said.

Ted laughed awkwardly as he started making my latte. "Yeah. Um. That'll do it."

I grinned. "You've never met a crazy dwarf, have you?"

"No." He couldn't figure out if I was joking or not.

"Lucky you. They're a pain in the backside, that's what they are."

"Okay."

"Don't forget the extra expresso. I need it," I added.

"I did." Ted put the lid on the cup of steaming coffee and handed it to me. "Here you go. Good night." He sounded very relieved. I can't imagine why.

I smiled as I took the cup from him. "Thanks. Good night to you too, Ted. Don't go jumping off any buildings!" And with that, I Skipped.

Instead of a coffee shop, I was standing in the middle of a forest next to a crooked oak tree. It was the dead of night and the only light was coming from a crackling fire not more than a dozen feet in front of me. Never before had I Skipped within an hour of the last. Usually there were a few days or even weeks between my Skips. I stood, coffee still in hand, rooted to the spot, trying to figure out exactly what was going on.

Years of Skipping had taught me many things, one of which being: when I first arrived in a new place, I shouldn't move until I knew what the frig is going on around me. I learned this valuable lesson after I Skipped onto a wooden platform suspended in a tree. Not knowing where I was, I stepped forward, only to plummet down towards the ground a hundred feet below. I think that was my shortest visit to Middle Earth.

Anyways, there I was, standing at the edge of a small clearing, hidden by the shadow of an oak tree. Straight ahead of me, there were three gigantic trolls. The trolls were hulking beasts with gray, hairy skin and fat, crumpled faces. All three of them were hunched over a steaming black pot that sat over a roaring fire.

One of the trolls was holding a dead sheep in his right hand. "Mutton today, mutton yesterday, and damn me if it isn't mutton tomorrow," grumbled one of the trolls.

"Some manflesh would be nice," said another. "William, why you bring us out here where there ain't a livin' thing?"

William choked. "Shut yer mouth, Tom! You and Bert don't know nuthun'. People ain't goin' to stop here just to be eaten by you. Besides, we had one just a few nights ago. You ate him whole."

Tom licked his lips hungrily. "He was a juicy one. Nice and fat. Just the way I like 'em."

I took a sip of my Starbucks coffee. All right then. It was trolls this time. Just my luck. I'd encountered trolls before, and I found that hiding in some bushes until I Skipped was the best method of dealing with them.

I was looking for a good bush to hide in when, by pure chance, I noticed the hobbit. He flickered in the edge of my vision as he ran from the shelter of one tree to another. I blinked. A hobbit was trying to sneak up on these three hulking trolls.

I'd been to Hobbiton before during one of my many Skips. From what I'd seen, most hobbits of the Shire were not big fans of exploring the outside world. So why this one hobbit was approaching three trolls in the dead of night was beyond my understanding. At least the trolls hadn't noticed him yet. Trolls are stupid, and they aren't very observant. Case in point: they still had not noticed me standing at the tree line, drinking coffee. But that doesn't mean that trolls aren't dangerous. If the hobbit had any sense, he would run in the opposite direction as fast as his little legs could carry him.

Apparently, this hobbit had no sense.

He crept closer and closer to one of the trolls, William. When he was mere inches away, the hobbit extended a hand and pulled a leather pouch out of the troll's pocket. Immediately, whatever was in the pouch started to screech. The poor hobbit didn't stand a chance. At the piercing sound, William turned and snatched him off the ground.

"Bert!" cried William, examining the hobbit and holding him up for the other two trolls to see. "Bert, look what I've caught!"

"What is it?" asked Bert.

"I don' know," said William. He poked the hobbit carefully. "What are you?"

The hobbit squeaked. "Bilbo Baggins, I'm a bur—a hobbit!"

I frowned as I went through a list of the hobbits I had met before. The name "Baggins" didn't ring any bells.

"Never heard of a burrahobbit before," said Bert. (Like I said, trolls are stupid.)

"Can we eat it?" asked Tom.

"I don' see why not," said William.

"Perhaps there are more like him around," said Bert.

William thought about this and then, holding Bilbo down to eye-level, asked, "Are there more of you?"

"Yes, lots." Bilbo paused, just realizing what he had said. "No. Not at all. None. Only me. Just me."

"Well," said William, "that settles that."

He lifted Bilbo into the air over his mouth and prepared to drop Bilbo into the gap between his yellow teeth, when Bert asked, "What does he mean by 'lots and none'?"

The hobbit, still dangling in the air, cried, "None! None! None at all!"

"Wha'?" Bert blinked.

"Can we just eat him and be done with him?" asked Tom.

"Okay," said William.

Even as William lifted Bilbo up to eat him again, it didn't occur to me (idiot that I was back then) that the hobbit might die. I could only watch, wondering how the hobbit was going to get out of this situation, as the troll dangled Bilbo over his gaping mouth.

Then (thank God, because I obviously wasn't going to do anything) reinforcements arrived.

The whole scene played before me like a movie. A dwarf, one with a bow strapped over his shoulder and sword sheathed at his side, appeared in the space between two trees. The dwarf didn't have a beard and was rather good-looking—he must have been one of those near-extinct pretty-boy dwarves. He looked angry, however, and he glowered at the trolls.

"Put him down!" shouted the dwarf.

"Kíli!" cried Bilbo.

The trolls glanced at Bilbo and then at each other.

"A dwarf," said William.

"Grab a sack!" cried Bert.

Tom started to move across the clearing, but Kíli drew his bow and fired. The arrow embedded itself in Tom's arm. As Tom howled in pain, an enraged William hurled Bilbo at Kíli. The second he caught the flying Bilbo, Kíli cried, "Now!" and a whole group of dwarves came charging into the clearing, weapons raised and ready for battle.

The trolls howled and started swinging their fists and stomping. Kíli fired arrows, while the dwarves swung their axes and swords. Balin sliced open one of the troll's knees—wait.

I paused mid-sip of my coffee and squinted at the dwarf. The red belt, the long white beard—it was definitely Balin, the same Balin who had abandoned me to torment at the hands of Thorin. Speaking of Thorin, he was there too. That crazy dwarf swung his sword in an arc, slicing open Tom's leathery arm before Tom could grab Kíli. The troop of dwarves was doing well, I was happy to see. They had managed to keep the trolls away from them, working as a team to protect one another in the process. It looked as though the dwarves might actually escape.

And then, the trolls got a hold of poor Bilbo. My chest tightened as I watched with horror, as William and Bert grabbed one leg and one arm each, stretching the hobbit as far as they could without breaking him.

"Drop your weapons!" cried Bert. "Or we'll rip 'im to pieces!"

Thorin froze. His fellow dwarves followed his lead. As Thorin glared at Bilbo and the trolls, I could see the options running through his head, but after a moment, he tossed his sword to the ground. Another pause, and then, the other dwarves copied him. The dull thuds of weapons hitting the dirt filled the clearing.

My stomach twisted as the trolls bound the dwarves and Bilbo in what looked like burlap sacks. Even if Thorin and Balin hadn't been exactly nice to me in the Blue Mountains, they certainly didn't deserve to be eaten by trolls. I hoped they found a way out of this situation.

I watched the trolls proceed to tie some of the dwarves on a roasting stick over the fire. The dwarves fought against their restraints (I think Thorin was trying to chew through the ropes), and those over the fire howled as the rising heat touched their skin. The trolls stood beside the roaster greedily, waiting for the dwarves to cook.

"Can they roast any faster?" asked Tom. "I'm hungry."

"Wait," barked Bert. "I haven't added the sage."

"Hurry up," said William. "The sun is goin' to come out soon."

"Wait!" cried Bilbo, leaping to his feet despite the bag and ropes that bound him. "I would not do that if I were you! You are making a huge mistake!"

The trolls turned to stare at Bilbo, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Bilbo would save the dwarves. I didn't know what I would've done in his shoes. Whenever dangerous situations occurred during my Skips, I usually hid until I was Skipped back to Ohio.

"W-with the seasoning," said Bilbo quickly. "Have you smelled these dwarves? Sage is not going to cover it."

"Hey!" cried Kíli. "We do not smell that bad!"

The other dwarves barked their agreement. Thorin sighed and kicked Kíli in the shoulder to get him to quiet down. At least Thorin had common sense.

"Shut up," said Bert. He leaned forward and peered at Bilbo. "Then what do you do with dwarves?"

"Um…um…" Bilbo struggled for a second. "Um…You have to…um…skin them…"

"What?" cried one of the dwarves.

I should have done something then at least, stepped out from the trees and distracted the trolls with my stunning wit and humor, and I wish I could say that I did. But, unfortunately, at this time, I still considered Middle Earth to be this other place, entirely separate from me, that I had no effect on, a world that I could only watch as if through a screen. So, I continued to stand in the shadow of the tree, willing Bilbo to save the dwarves, but not moving an inch myself to help anyone.

"That's a lie," said Tom. "I've eaten one whole before. Tasted just as good."

"Let me see." William scooped up one of the dwarves and dangled the poor guy over his mouth.

"Not that one!" cried Bilbo. "He has worms! I would not risk it. In fact, they all have worms. Nasty infected things."

Relief washed over me, and some of the tension left my shoulders. It was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

However, my relief was short-lived, because Kíli thought it was a good idea to shout, "We don't have worms!"

Thorin rolled his eyes and kicked Kíli in the head again. Kíli paused, the plan slowly dawning on him, and then screamed, "Yes! Yes, I do! Lots of worms!"

Soon all the dwarves joined in. "Worms! All over me! Inside and out! I'm infested! Infested to the bone! Nasty! Gross! Don't eat me!"

I finished off my coffee and, not taking my eyes away from the scene in front of me, tossed the cup into the forest. Perhaps some elf would come across the discarded cup and puzzle over the Starbucks logo.

William was cowering in the corner, afraid to even touch the worm-infected dwarves now. Tom looked kind of repulsed; he prodded one of the dwarves nervously. Bert, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes. Leaning forward, he inspected Bilbo at close range.

"You're lying," he said.

Bilbo cringed. "No—no, I'm not."

Right then, one of the dwarves saw me. I found out later that his name was Glóin. His eyes kind of bugged out of his head, and he struggled against the bindings of his sack. "Help!"

I blinked. Only then did it occur to me that I was actually a part of this scene. I was, in fact, not watching a movie but present for all of this. These dwarves were really being roasted right in front of my eyes. Glóin was looking at me with wide, frightened eyes. He was afraid. They all were. Bilbo was desperately trying to save the dwarves lives because these trolls really were going to eat them. And I had just been standing by, watching.

"Help us!" cried Glóin once more.

The trolls, dwarves, and hobbit all turned to stare at me. The shadow of the oak tree was no longer shelter. I hesitated for a moment, debating whether to just run away and hide. This wasn't my world, this wasn't my problem—I couldn't cast aside my time to help Thorin on his quest to escape three trolls.

But then, I saw Thorin and Balin. They were both bound, their hair, beards, and faces smeared with dirt. I knew them. Even if Thorin had refused to help me save Bonnie and Nick, that didn't mean I had to be like him. Thorin and Balin were real, not some characters in a movie that I was watching.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward into the firelight. I don't know what I intended to do; I didn't have a plan, and it wasn't like I knew how to fight. But I figured that I shouldn't just run and hide, that I should actually try to do something. Besides, if the trolls tried to eat me, I'd just Skip away. That's how it had always worked.

"Hi." I managed a smile for the trolls. "I was just passing through and thought I'd see what all the trouble was."

"Who are you?" asked William, while Thorin groaned audibly and said, "Ana."

I smiled at Thorin. "Long time no see. Did you miss me?"

"Who is she?" asked one of the dwarves.

"That's wha' I'm asking," said William.

"She looks good," said Tom.

"Why thank you," I said.

"Can I eat her?"

I sighed. "Never mind."

"Run, Ana," said Thorin. "You will not help us by confronting the trolls."

I scowled. "Well, okay then. I know where my help isn't wanted." I took a step back towards the tree line. I really should have just continued hiding like I'd intended.

And then, Tom lunged at me.

It was by luck that I saw him moving out of the corner of my eye. I tried to jump out of his reach, but I tripped over a tree root and ended up sprawled on my back. Thankfully that not-so-elegant fall stopped Tom from grabbing me.

Well, logically, I knew that I would Skip away before I could be harmed. That's how it always happened. But at the back of my mind, a part of me remembered that I had just Skipped twice in the same hour. That had never happened before. Which meant there was a first time for everything.

I started to crawl towards the trees, but William had abandoned the stew and was coming to help Tom catch me. Thankfully, one of the dwarves rolled over in his sack, using his body to trip William. I staggered to my feet and made for the trees.

As I raced by, I caught sight of Thorin grimacing as he struggled against the ropes of his sack. He might have said something to me, but I didn't hear as I found cover behind one of the oak trees. I should have known this was a bad idea. I should've run away and hid as soon as Glóin spotted me.

Tom reached around the tree, his dirt-stained, gray fingers searching for me. It seemed like a good time for a Skip to take me away from this place. But…nothing. I was still standing behind the oak tree and the troll's hand was still drawing closer. With a shriek, I sprinted back into the clearing, slammed into Bilbo, and knocked us both to the ground.

We hit the dirt hard. I tried to stand up, to run to the trees, but my arms and legs were shivering in pain. The trolls were coming. I could hear their heavy footsteps behind me. The Skip wasn't coming, and they were going to eat me. God, this was my punishment for trying to help people.

"D-don't," stammered Bilbo. He lay on the ground next to me, still bound in his sack. But unlike me, he wasn't cowering and praying for the Skip to take him. Instead, he was staring up at the trolls and speaking, his voice gaining strength with each word. "The dawn is coming. You have run out of time."

"Shut yer mouth." Baring his yellow teeth, William reached for Bilbo.

And then, a deep voice called out, "Dawn take you all, and be stone to you!"

Golden light shone through branches of the trees. William, Bert, and Tom released shrill screams. They tried to flee from the light, their muscles rippling under their leathery skin, but it was too late. Their muscles stopped moving and their bodies stilled. A moment later they were nothing more than statues.

At first, I didn't know what was happening, and it wasn't until I registered what the voice had said did I realize that the sun had risen. It was day. I sat on the ground, surrounded by three stone trolls.

"Gandalf!" cried Bilbo.

"Excellent."

I turned in the direction of the voice. At first, I saw only some tufts of long grass and two broken pieces of a boulder on top of a hill. But then, from between the two boulders, there appeared an old, gray wizard.

This was Gandalf. This was the man Thorin and Balin had gone to meet in Bree to discuss matters concerning the Lonely Mountain. The man looked like a wizard. He had the hat for it and the knotted wooden staff. However, he looked sort of hunched over and elderly—not very formidable. But I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt since he had just saved me from three trolls.

"I was gone for only a few minutes and look what trouble you have gotten yourselves into." Gandalf paused and stared at me. "And who is this stranger?"

"My problem," said Thorin still bound in his sack. "I will deal with her."

I sighed. "I just saved you from being eaten by three trolls. Do you have to call me a 'problem'?"

"Gandalf saved us," said Glóin. "You ran away, screaming."

After considering this accusation, I said, "Well, I was trying to save you. It's the thought that counts." I managed a weak smile.