I just wanted to sit down and be quiet for a bit without anyone bothering me or talking within my hearing range. I needed that and if anyone wouldn't allow me that small courtesy, I was going to scream just to drown it all out.

It all had started simply enough with Thorin sitting down at the table and waiting for something to be placed in front of him. Apparently, I was the only one who was left out of that conversation when it was decided that I should be the one to cook him something to eat with what remained of my larder. With a bowl of soup set down before him, he seemed to ease up a little (was he just that hungry?) and nodded to the bowl in a show of deeming it acceptable before shooing me off. Damn Thorin and his damn quest and everything that came from that.

I was thankful enough that he didn't say anything in thanks and even more thankful enough that none of the dwarves seemed particularly inclined to include me at the table once they started to discuss what exactly they were doing in my house in the first place.

A quest. Yes, the aforementioned adventure that Gandalf dangled in front of me the day before like some sort of enticement that I was eager to grab at. I was curious enough now that they were in my house and helped them with what I could -mostly holding a candle- but as I listened, Gandalf explained in that steady voice of his that they were to go to a place called the Lonely Mountain.

I felt my stomach drop again for the third time since waking back up from when I fainted.

Smaug, the Terrible.

Where Gandalf wanted me to go there would be a dragon and no, Bofur I did not need it spelled out so perfectly exact what a dragon was.

I needed air all over again.

I clutched my cup of tea and didn't move an inch, sure that once I did everyone would start talking to me or loud enough that I would hear.

I tried to wrap my mind around the fact that Gandalf somehow managed to convince all of them that I was a burglar but also that Thorin agreed to trust the wizard enough to let me join the quest. I didn't want to join the quest. I was a proper – I sighed and clutched my cup. I was terrified of the idea of these dwarves even thinking of me going anywhere near a dragon.

...and that contract.

I groaned with just the thought of that long winded and complicated contract staring back at me from the side table. How I reacted was quite normal for any Hobbit; the idea of being lacerated and incinerated was just too much. It was all too much.

I needed to clear my thoughts and stop thinking about such things. I would give myself nightmares for weeks if I didn't let up a little about the dragon thing.

I needed air. I didn't move an inch.

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard someone coming into the sitting room, their footsteps loud so that I would easily notice their presence. I turned to see Gandalf, his tall body hunched as he moved underneath the low ceiling of the hobbit hole, looking at me with concern painted so clearly across his features.

"I'll be alright just let me sit quietly for a moment."

"You've been sitting quietly for far too long!"

Gandalf huffed out and really right then I had half a mind to tell him that I was in no mood for any of his shenanigans! To even think of bringing me on the quest where a dragon of all things would be waiting for me was just simply the craziest thing anyone had ever suggested to me! For all that I tried to tell myself that I was just a Baggins, I was a Took as well and I was in no way limited in crazy suggestions from my Took sided cousins. A dragon though? A dragon ! I couldn't even process that sort of idea!

Gandalf seemed to understand exactly was I thinking, his eyes softening only a little before he came to sit across from me, "Tell me, when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you?"

They didn't try to incinerate me, thank you very much!

"I remember a young hobbit, who was always running off in search of elves in the woods. Who'd stay out late and come home after dark trailing mud and twigs and fireflies."

As I listened to him tell me of how I was when I was a wee Hobbit, I couldn't help but lower my eyes and allow his voice to rush over me. I felt the presence of his voice on my shoulder pressing against me firmly to have me understand that it was safe where I was. I remembered that I did used to go out and into the forest and try and hide so that maybe an elf could be happened upon if lucky. I smiled at the thought of one of my adventures that had me out late, covered in mud and gunk, and looking every bit the adventuring hobbit until a Ranger spotted me and scooped me up.

I remember how my Mum felt, how warm she was and how her voice tickled when she accepted me into her arms, grateful to the Ranger who found me and brought me home and looked too thin so in gratitude, please come in and eat with us.

Gandalf looked at me as if he knew every single thought that came through my mind; his voice only helped it along, "A young hobbit who would've liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire."

His eyes locked with mine, "The world is not in your books and maps. It's out there."

I turned my head to look at the darkened window where the world truly did lie just outside its pane. As a Took child, I had wanted nothing more than the desire to fight my way upstream and run around and adventure as I pleased. My maps and books were my ways of doing that as a Baggins adult but everything in those things were just old stories. Nothing more.

"I can't just go running off into the blue!" I began,my voice straining with the effort to keep myself from shouting, " I'm a Baggins of Bag End." I squeaked with the declaration because as much as I wanted to believe that I was just a proper Hobbit lass and an even more proper Baggins of Bag End, I was not just that. I was a Took.

"Yes, you are also a Took!"

I listened to Gandalf tell me the story of my great-grand-Uncle Bulroarer Took who was supposedly tall enough to ride a normal horse and how he fought in his great war and somehow managed to take the Goblin King's head off while at the same time inventing the game of golf.

I smiled and Gandalf knew he was winning me over, "I do believe you made that up."

Gandalf grinned at me in that knowing way of his before I sighed and stood up, "I'm sorry, Gandalf, but I can't sign that."

The words felt bitter in my mouth and heavy in my stomach but I had to say them for Gandalf to understand exactly just how much I couldn't go on this adventure. I was indeed a Baggins of Bag End and I was a proper Hobbit lass and I couldn't be just up and running off into the sunset. Despite the fact that I couldn't be the company's burglar, I would at least be their proper host and set them all up on what beds and comfortable cushions that I could. Bag End was very large, after all and was designed for a rather large family. Yes, that was something that I could do.

I set my mind to the task of doing as such, brushing off with my fingers the sound of Balin's voice on my cheek when I heard him say behind me, "It appears we have lost our burglar."

As I readied beds, fluffed pillows, and pushed together soft chairs and ottomans to provide as many sleeping spots as my home could handle, I lost myself in my thoughts and didn't notice until I came up closer to the sitting room that I was hearing singing again. I slowly made my way along the wall, careful not to disrupt anyone with my presence; as I neared, the deep lilted song hummed across the walls of the room, the echoing sadness and longing of the lyrics resonating in me.

I was shocked to find that unlike when the dwarves sang before and it was a cacophonous nightmare of sensation, with Thorin's voice at the lead it seemed to only command the company's into a sense of order. Sensations rushed over me in a soft tide, pushing at my shoulder gently, smoothing over my soft cheeks, rubbing along my belly, softening over hands and cupping possessively. I closed my eyes to the sensations, letting them wash over me and I realized as I listened to them and allowed their voices to hold me that I fell in love with the beautiful things that the dwarves searched ever for in the darkness.

I felt that fierce and jealous love that came with their possession, their voices anchoring me in place until I understood that I wanted to -and desperately needed to- run along the fields of tall green grass with them. I wanted to play around in the cold stream and hear the soft sway of the pine trees as they rustled in the wind. I wanted to see the bright stars of the sky as I slept on the ground, surrounded by those voices.

I wanted to see them through their quest.

When I opened my eyes, I found Thorin staring at me with an emotion behind his eyes that told me that he knew exactly what I was thinking. My heart raced with the thought of this overwhelming dwarf knowing what I was thinking and I breathed in deeply before walking away.

I had more beds to set up, after all.

Away from their voices that had stopped singing, I was broken from the spell that just moments before I was so powerless against. I didn't quite understand where the reaction had come from but maybe I was just tired and needed to rest? Yes, that would set me right again. Just go to bed early tonight and wake up tomorrow and see to the dwarves' departure. Maybe even make them a little breakfast? Once they left, all would be right in the world again.

When the last of the beds was readied, I sighed and turned around, tired and ready to head off to bed. I stopped as soon as I saw Thorin standing in the way of the door, his form made bulky from his armor and his fur trimmed coat that he hadn't taken off despite the comforts of my home. His eyes were hard as they stared at me, his face unreadable and I flinched back when he took a step towards me. There was something about the way he looked at me then, once again assessing what to make of me; he could tell I wasn't afraid of him for what did I really have to fear from such a dwarf as he but he still wondered.

His face still blank and his blue eyes still locked onto mine, he approached me until I had to look up at him. I felt my heart hammer in my chest with him so near, remembering what his voice could do to me should he just open his mouth and speak. At such a close distance and with nothing to distract him, he would probably see exactly what it did to me.

"Where are you going?"

He said it in such a way that I immediately knew that he had known what I was thinking when I listened to them singing. My breath hitched as his voice traced along my abdomen, a single touch that trailed until gone.

"Bed," I tried to sound cheerful and sound ready for sleep but the voice that came out was a far cry from it, "Early start for you guys. I will give you a good breakfast before you go, of course."

Thorin came closer still but I couldn't move away from him even as he closed the distance between our bodies. I could very nearly feel the heat radiating off him; his eyes traced along an exposed collar bone, a short tendril of honey colored hair that lay against my shoulder before he hummed low in this throat in protest to my statement.

I shuddered with want, my body coming alive with flame as his voice curled along my thighs hard enough to grip had it been real. I tried to restrain my body's natural reaction to move, to flinch or twitch or give any sort of sign to alert Thorin to what he was truly doing to me. I couldn't deny that I was wet with desire, a slickness between my thighs that probably could be scented if Thorin were to lean closer.

"Before we go, I suppose you mean," Thorin let rumble from his lips, "Are you not the burglar?"

His words while not possessive squeezed flesh and trembled into wet folds, pressing in deep and almost filling me until the touch was gone with the last of his question. I wanted to answer him but my cheeks were too red, too flushed and my heart racing too noticeably. His eyes stared at my chest, noticing all too clearly the thump of its rhythm; he leaned forward and breathed in deeply.

I backed away from him, the spell broken and nervously smoothed my skirts even as I gave him a large birth of space, sputtering and trying desperately to keep my eyes on the ground so that I wouldn't embarrass myself further than I already had. I had to leave the room immediately.

At the doorway, I grabbed at the frame when his voice stroked across my desire and left me weak, "I'll see you in the morning, hobbit."

I turned back only to acknowledge what he said, nodding slightly before taking off for my bedroom and slamming the door.

I slept with uncomfortable dreams, of mountains and fire and a haunting pile of gold.