Balin's eyes, and indeed the eyes of everyone else present widened as the elf chugged his third pint of beer in just as many minutes. Gandalf had made hurried introductions, naming the elf for them, and in turn naming them to the elf, who had been half-listening, and half-focused on drinking as much ale as he could in as short a period as he could. Leaning over to Thorin, he whispered the thought that had been running through his mind ever since the elf had arrived.

"This one's unlike any elf I've ever met, acts more like a troll than an elf."

"He's an elf."

Thorin murmured the reply, lain heavy with contempt, eyes glaring into the golden skinned figure who burped, before turning around to look at the assembled company of dwarves, and then back at Gandalf. His head flicked, motioning at the dwarves behind him.

"These who I'll be killing the dragon for? Have to say, I work better alone."

"And we work better without fat elves, or just elves for that matter."

Thorin stood, his deep sonorous voice ringing out throughout Bag End. Alecor turned in his chair, before standing stooped in the sitting room, empty flagon in one hand as the dwarf and elf eyed each other warily. Alecor pointed his flagon at Thorin and made his thoughts known.

"You know, where I come from, the dwarves are elves. Well, were, they messed around with the heart of a god and dissipated from existence."

That gave Thorin some pause, Bombur spoke up, expressing the unified thoughts of the thirteen dwarves.

"What?"

The high elf nodded, lazily eyeing the bottom of his empty flagon.

"It's true, orcs are too, elves that changed when their patron god was eaten by another god and shit out green, changing the colour of their skins. Still, best not to linger on such thoughts, history and theology are wonderful subjects for a conversation, but requires a clearer head to truly debate it."

The elf straightened, best as he could, before holding forth with Thorin.

"Let me be frank master dwarf, I am unlike any elf you likely will ever meet in this world. Gandalf has told me of the elves of this plane, and I find them wanting. I am not in possession of ethereal grace and beauty and other such things as these elves of yours possess. Nor am I immortal, the elves of my lands are mortal, some live long lives, some live short lives. I understand you are distrusting of my pointy eared kind-"

"That's putting it lightly."

Dwalin murmured the words, heard only by his fellow company of dwarves.

"-and I have to say you have more than good reason to. So, here I am, my word is my bond, and free of cost I have decided to do this for the glory alone. To enact this work which would see you restored to a throne and a homeland reclaimed, to slay a dragon and see honour and vengeance sated, so, what say you?"

Thorin glanced up and down the elf in front of him, before turning away and sitting down, speaking as he did so.

"I'll not say no. It maybe that you can serve as a distraction, a morsel for Smaug whilst the rest of us kill it."

Alecor grinned at the reply, seemingly not bothered at all of the thought of becoming dinner for another creature.

"Ha! An excellent reasoning."

He turned to face Gandalf, setting himself back down into the chair he'd previously vacated and languidly stretching his feet out towards the fire.

"So Gandalf, when do we start out?"

A glance down at the empty flagon, then at Bilbo, who shrank back with a startled yelp as the drinking apparatus was thrust at him with drunken vigour.

"And what does one have to do to keep one's ale topped up around here?"

For Bilbo, events moved swiftly on after that. A contract was made and left for him to sign, and come the morning, he had awoken, and decided that yes, he would go on an adventure. And so, he found himself travelling forth, uncomfortable of the fact that now, the strange elf was riding alongside him, currently devouring a whole pork pie and a full skin of water. Clearing his throat, Bilbo decided to break the awkward silence.

"So, what kind of elf are you? If you beg my pardon sir."

Alecor grunted, swallowing the pie in his mouth, and washing it down with water.

"I'm a high elf mister Baggins. A mer, an Altmer to be precise."

Bilbo frowned.

"Mer? Altmer?

The dragon-slayer clarified the subject for him.

"A Mer is the correct terminology in my lands. Alt-Mer, High Elf. There are a number of variations of mer, all descended from the Ald-Mer, Old Elves. Bosmer, Wood Elves. Maormer, Sea Elves, Orsimer, Orcs, and so on and so forth. We're all different in personalities and appearance, by united by common ancestry. You see?"

"Ah. I see."

Bilbo had to admit privately, that he did not really see, but there were elves and different tribes of elves was the best way to think about it for him. And so, turning away from the elf, Bilbo Baggins of Bag End let out a hum, and allowed the hum to continue as he studied the landscape around him, green meadows with thin twinkling streams of water running all throughout. Fluffy white clouds floated overhead, far above the encroaching trees that made up the forest ahead of them.

"So how did hobbits come about?"

Bilbo was silent, pausing to recall the history of his people, before carefully making his reply.

"We, and by we, I mean the historians, not me, don't know exactly how hobbits came about, but what we do know is this. Long ago, as I was told, we once lived far to the east. There were three tribes, Harfoots, Fallohides and Stoors. We lived in peace, until owing to ever more perilous situations, we migrated west. Over the misty mountains and onto where Bree is located. Later on, we moved over the Brandywine river, and so, the Shire was born."

Alecor nodded, pausing to snatch an apple off a tree and drawing a knife and cutting it into pieces, words were spoken as pieces were cut.

"And now you move east, where once your ancestors dwelt. Have you considered perhaps searching for the material remains of their old dwellings?"

Bilbo let out a small hum at that, he hadn't thought of that. A nudge interrupted him, and turning, he saw Alecor offering a piece of apple, which he eagerly accepted with a thank you, before turning back to focus on the road, munching on the apple as he considered what the elf had said. He would be the first hobbit since, well, since they'd come west, to go east. Why not search for the remains of his past ancestors? Maybe, after this adventure was over, that could be his next adventure. If he decided to have another adventure that was.

And as the path winded on before them, a comfortable silence fell over the company of thirteen dwarves, a wizard, a dragon slayer, and a hobbit. And so, on and on they went, until nightfall came, and so came the time to stop, and rest and restore their wearied spirits.

A/N: Another chapter appears! Mostly filler, but things do pick up as it goes along for the story as a whole. I have to say, reading the Hobbit over again, it's shorter than I remembered. Still, on and on and all that. Trolls await us in the next chapter, although not at all like the trolls our Dragon Slayer has ever seen.

- Sir Winter