Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit or any of its lovely people or places. Kelda, Sitheiyra and the Sky Folk are all that are mine.
Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think of part 2! :-)
A high pitched keening sound pierced the air, echoing off the trees and rolling hills that made up the Shire. The noise was similar to the screeching of an eagle, but with much more power; the sound of a large creature. It was punctuated by the clatter of falling metal, and a dramatic sigh followed immediately after.
"Sith, stop that whining. You're going to give all the poor hobbits heart attacks! We have to make certain it fits, now sit still!"
Can we not do this later? I will miss the best rays of the sunset.
"There's not going to be a later. You know what Gandalf said; we'll be leaving first thing in the morning and we're already late as it is."
They're dwarves. It's not as if they truly care about punctuality.
Kelda glowered at the large black beast once more, ignoring the gryphon's telepathic comment before picking the silver helm up from the ground and once again attempting to place it over Sitheiyra's head. The Muzmulomil whined lowly, but did stay still this time as Kelda adjusted the straps. As a member of the largest species of gryphon known to exist, Sitheiyra stood about seven feet tall at the shoulder; it made her far, far larger than her skyling companion and Kelda had to get her to crouch down before she could continue to adjust the battle-armor along her back.
"Open them up," Kelda said as she took a step back from the Muzmulomil. "I want to make sure it doesn't hinder your movement in any way."
The gryphon tossed her head, annoyed that she had to do anything beyond enjoy the last warm rays of daylight. Still, she did as she was asked and opened her impressive wings, spanning well over forty feet. Her black feathers caught the evening light as she moved; revealing an iridescent sheen with underlying tones of dark blues, greens and purples.
Muzmulomil gryphons were incredibly rare and seemed like an odd patchwork of different creatures mashed into one, combining to create a beautiful, powerful beast. Her body structure was like that of an ebony black feline, while her head was like that of an eagle, with a lethal, curved beak, fox-like ears and a crown of feathers encircling her head that gave her a regal appearance. Sitheiyra's tail was long, adorned with a fan of tail feathers at the tip, as well as at her hind quarters, that gave her greater maneuverability in flight. Large emerald-green eyes watched closely as Kelda finished the adjustments to the armor.
"It's perfect!" Kelda announced excitedly, clasping her hands together and smiling brilliantly. The armor had been a parting gift from her Uncle Draxis; he was the greatest smith among the Sky-Folk and had done his best to raise Kelda and her younger sister Anayla after the loss of their parents. He had refused to let them leave without being properly prepared, gifting Kelda with battle-armor for Sitheiyra and a new war staff for her, which was leaning up against a nearby tree. The staff was made of sturdy IronBark wood, the top adorned with a heavy sphere of hematite while the bottom end sported a long serrated blade, shaped like a spear-head. Kelda tapped the armor on Sitheiyra's head with a fingernail. "Light-weight and easy to get on and off; how does it feel? Is it comfortable? Do you think you'll be okay wearing it along the road?"
Sitheiyra contemplated the question for a moment, tilting her head in a very owlish fashion. She then gave an experimental flap of her wings and walked around in a quick circle before looking at Kelda, letting out a short whistle and thrusting her head against the skyling affectionately.
It is adequate. Kelda laughed lightly at the gryphon's answer. It was the best she was going to get from the proud creature, but it was enough.
"I'm glad you like it! You look so gorgeous in it, too," the skyling crooned, rubbing her hands along the gryphon's neck lovingly. Sitheiyra made a low sound similar to a cat's purr, so deep that it caused the pebbles and gravel on the ground around them to dance.
"Now then," Kelda sighed, standing back from the gryphon and turning to look out at the Shire before them. "We just need to find the place. Of course, I did make the mistake of leaving without getting any specific directions from Gandalf so…"
Worry not, little one. I can smell the dwarves from here; their path is fairly clear. Come then, if we are in such a hurry we should not leave them waiting any longer.
Sitheiyra headed down the path then and Kelda followed close behind after grabbing her staff, incredibly thankful for the darkness that shielded their passing. She had very little doubt that most hobbits would not take kindly to looking out their window and seeing a large beast passing by.
Confident that Sitheiyra would be able to lead them to their destination without any issues, Kelda took the time to examine the Shire as they went through it. It was a land of green rolling hills and rich soil, where the sun was warm and the moon shined brightly. She imagined that cooler mornings would bring mists that would swirl about prettily, like in a painting. Round wooden doors dotted the hills, each an indicator of a halfling's home lying beneath the ground. It was a beautiful place, in a quaint sort of way.
Kelda took a deep breath of the clean air. The earlier rain made everything smell fresh and new. She loved how her connection with Sitheiyra gave her heightened senses; she could smell the thick scent of damp earth, the sweetness of fruit in the market, the sharpness of wood-smoke rising from chimneys. It was a homey place, a quiet place, a place where every day was about the same and nothing unexpected ever happened.
It was boring. It absolutely reeked of boredom and the skyling found herself hoping they wouldn't have to linger there too long, that what Gandalf had said was true and they'd be leaving first thing in the morning. She had little time or patience for boring.
You should be careful what you wish for, Sitheiyra interjected, having been keeping track of Kelda's inner monologue, as she often did. Soon you may be begging the gods above for a boring day.
"You'll not catch me dead begging for boredom," Kelda replied, making a disgusted face at the thought of it. "Give me long hazardous hunts in the Misties. Stick me in night raids on bandit camps. Toss me into a solo troll encounter, but for the love of the gods, don't leave me in a meeting of pompous politicians or stick me with guard duty in the middle of Gondor. I have better things to do than listen to slack-jawed idiots or guard against human townies who wouldn't know the blade of a sword from the pommel if it slapped them in the face."
Hmm, I suppose it's a good thing we're to be traveling with a group who may very well share your sentiments.
"Well, everyone does say I act too much like a dwarf for my own good. I'm not sure I agree, though. Honestly I think everyone else would do well to act a bit more dwarvish. Maybe then they wouldn't be so stuck up…hey, is that a rune on that door?"
Kelda rushed to the door in question, belonging to the hobbit-hole at the top of the hill, and bent down to examine the glowing mark stuck there to the wood. It was indeed a rune; the wizard's work no doubt.
"This must be the place," the skyling said as she straightened. "It's got a glowing sigil on the door; wizard writing."
It is, Sitheiyra confirmed, lowering her head to take a quick whiff of the doormat in front of them. There are at least two different individual dwarf scents that converge here, and I can hear them inside.
"Great! Let's not waste any time then."
Kelda placed two knocks on the door in quick succession and then waited patiently for a response, she and her gryphon looking entirely out of place there on the doorstep. They were only waiting a moment before the door swung open and an entirely exasperated hobbit looked out at them.
"Good evening, Master Hobbit!" Kelda said brightly before bowing, her wings sweeping open as she did to give the basic action an exotic flare. "Kelda and Sitheiyra, at your service."
"Oh, eh, Bilbo Baggins at yours….is-is that, is that a gryphon?" He asked, shrinking back a bit as Sitheiyra moved forward to sniff at him and look inside the open door curiously.
As if I could possibly be something else, she thought.
"Yes!" Kelda said to the hobbit with a smile before stepping past him and into the house. "Yes she is, and I have to say I think she's a bit too big to fit through the door. Might you have a window or two I can open so she could at least get her head in? I don't want her to be excluded."
"Excluded? Excluded from what?" Bilbo asked in vexation, but Kelda ignored him. The skyling removed her cloak to hang it on a coat-rack nearby the doorway, revealing her traditional Sky-Folk mage armor. It easily set her apart from others as someone who was used to traveling battle ready; silvery armor glinted in the firelight, enchanted to be so light-weight it was like wearing cloth. Unable to wear a typical tunic due to her wings, a long piece of bright blue cloth pulled over her head and held together with various strategically placed leather belts sufficed to cover her. Hardened leather gauntlets, thigh high leather boots, and pauldrons made to look like feathers of blue and gold added extra protection. She was covered almost entirely from the neck down, save for where the armor had to cut low down underneath her wings, leaving much of her back exposed. Kelda could feel the hobbit staring at the scarring from burns on her back and the way her wings were tightly wrapped in cloth at their bases to hide the loss of feathers, but she brushed it off as she went farther into the house. She was more than used to people staring.
"Nice little place you've got here," she said as she looked around. The hobbit-hole was a cozy dwelling, clean and neat and filled with rich, warm colors. The rooms and halls were rounded, to support the weight of the dirt above she supposed, and it was sized perfectly for small folk. There was a fire burning in the hearth which gave the home a warm and inviting atmosphere, but all in all Kelda found it was too closed-in for her liking. It reminded her a bit of a rabbit warren and she would have preferred a home with a view of the sky, herself; skylings in general took issue with small, enclosed spaces, but the hobbit's house was just large and roomy enough that she could stay there for a little while with only the slightest discomfort. At least it was warm and would soon be full of people. Kelda liked people, and dwarves in particular, due mostly to having grown up around them; being among a lively group of them would allow her to be more comfortable, she knew. It always had helped before.
As Kelda went to walk past the pantry in order to open a window, she caught sight of two dwarves standing in there talking and she immediately lit up with excitement. Not only were these dwarves, but they were dwarves she knew! They were older now than they had been, and so was she, but they were still easy enough to recognize.
"Skies preserve me, Balin and Dwalin!" She exclaimed, causing the two dwarves to notice her there in the pantry doorway.
"By my beard," Dwalin, who was a rather tough looking fellow with dwarvish tattoos on his bald head, said as Kelda went to give both of the dwarves tight hugs. "Kelda, the little bird of Erebor. Thorin said something about a skyling joining us; I should have known it would be you."
"It's so good to see you both!"
"It's good to see you too, lass," said Balin, an older dwarf of white hair and kind features. "If I may ask, where is your gryphon?"
"Oh, Sith's here, but she's too big to fit through the little door. Actually, are we going to be setting up in the dining room there? Will one of you help me open that window? She might be able to get her head in through there."
"Of course, of course," Balin said as he followed her out of the pantry and into the dining room. "Let's see what we can do."
As Kelda and Balin opened the window and moved some things out of the way so Sitheiyra would have an easier time gaining access, Kelda heard the sound of another couple of dwarves entering the hobbit's home. Bilbo hardly seemed pleased, but as the soft rustling of feathers announced Sitheiyra's arrival at the window, the skyling quickly lost track of whatever was going on in the foyer.
There's a large group of dwarves approaching, with the wizard accompanying them, Sitheiyra said as she put her head through the window. The gryphon looked around at the dwarves moving furniture about in an attempt to make more room and she chirped in amusement. Oh dear, it's just like home.
Is he with them? The group on its way, I mean.
No, I did not see him.
Kelda sighed at the gryphon's answer, but decided that sitting there dwelling on it would not help. So she threw herself into helping the dwarves prepare and soon the little house filled with even more dwarves, as well as Gandalf, who did his best to stay out of the way. Kelda found time as they were gathering what they needed for a feast to introduce herself to all the dwarves she didn't know, and soon she had a collection of names: Balin, Dwalin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, Gloin, Fili, and Kili. She was quick to be able to put name to face. She'd always had a pinpoint accurate memory, part of being connected to a Muzmulomil, and while sometimes having memories so vivid they were as reality could be a nuisance, in this case she knew it would come in handy. There were quite a lot of dwarves with similar names to keep track of.
In what seemed to be becoming a pattern, Bilbo Baggins was not happy about this sudden dwarf party happening in his home. As Kelda found herself standing beside Gandalf, who was taking a moment to count the dwarves, she could see the hobbit wresting a bowl of tomatoes away from the red-haired Nori. She didn't see what Bilbo thought he would accomplish; the moment he put those tomatoes back somebody else was going to take them. The skyling turned her attention back to the tall wizard with her just as he was speaking with a dwarf with an ax embedded in his forehead, whose name was Bifur.
"Yes, you're quite right Bifur," Kelda heard Gandalf saying. "We appear to be one dwarf short."
"He is late is all," Dwalin said from where he leaned just outside the dining room doorway. "He traveled north to a meeting of our kin. He will come."
"A meeting? About Erebor?" Kelda asked quickly. She sounded like an over-eager child despite being one hundred and ninety years old, which was still not even middle aged by Sky-Folk standards; they had extended lives due to their connections with gryphons, with five hundred years of age being the average.
"About everything," Dwalin said, giving the inquisitive skyling a slight smile. "But he'll be here. Sit down with us while there's still room."
Kelda was quick to take the dwarf's advice and found a seat at the table as close to Sitheiyra as she could get. The dwarves' feast was loud and jovial and messy. They had little care for table manners or order; they were there to have fun, to enjoy the food and each other's company and Kelda and Sitheiyra were more than happy to join them. The skyling and the gryphon felt more comfortable there with that merry gathering of dwarves than they had in all the one hundred and seventy some years they'd spent roaming the wilds with their own people since the fall of Erebor. This was the kind of scene they thought of when somebody said 'home'.
"Bombur, catch!" Bofur yelled over the din before throwing an egg to his brother Bombur across the table. The big dwarf caught it in his mouth and the entire table went wild, which was followed by food being flung at each other in every direction while Bilbo stood in the doorway looking on in disgust. As Fili, the blonde haired brother of Kili, walked on the table pouring ale and kicking food out of his way, somebody yelled "Gryphon!" and tossed an entire chicken across the room at Sitheiyra. Without missing a beat the Muzmulomil caught the chicken by a wing and pulled it out the window to hold it in her front talons, her beak cutting through meat and bone alike.
There was a brief moment where the room went entirely silent and everyone stared at the gryphon in the window, but then they all broke out into cheers and once again the room became a cacophony of noise. Kelda laughed, accepting a mug full of ale from Fili as the others continued to throw food at each other and at Sitheiyra. Playing catch with the gryphon seemed to amuse them immensely. Kelda was relieved that they had so quickly become used to having Sitheiyra there; considering most of them had never seen a gryphon of any size, let alone a large one, she had been concerned that they'd take poorly to the Muzmulomil's presence. That didn't seem to be the case however and they were entirely at ease, laughing raucously as Dwalin poured ale into Oin's hearing trumpet. They laughed even harder as the old dwarf spluttered in anger before blowing into the hearing trumpet, making it squeal and sending ale spraying everywhere.
Having become far too comfortable in her current situation, and feeling like nobody was doing quite enough drinking, Kelda stood from her seat and thrust her arm out to hold her mug of ale over the center of the table.
"On the count of three!" She shouted and the twelve dwarves immediately responded, holding their own mugs out to clash together with the various clanks and thuds of colliding metal and wood. "One…two…"
The room went completely silent as everyone tilted their mugs back and they all raced to see who could drink their whole mug down the fastest. Kelda had learned over the years how to correctly chug ale, making it a simple task for her to down her drink without having to stop for a breath, unlike her skyling brethren. They weren't big drinkers to begin with and none of them could keep up with her and her wild ways. Her present company, however, were not of the Sky-Folk and they all gave her a run for her money, but still she managed to come out on top. The skyling was the first to slam her mug down with a loud and satisfied belch.
Kelda was used to being berated by the Elders after doing such things. They would say her behavior was unladylike and crude, she wasn't acting like a queen and she dishonored her bloodline. They would droll on and on about how the blasted dwarves had ruined her while Draxis, Anayla and Amva, her beloved uncle, sister and cousin, would look on in amusement and she herself would simply ignore the naysayers. She was who she was and none of their constant complaining would change that; Kelda knew they wouldn't think her worthy of the crown regardless of her behavior. They would never be content with a cripple ruling them.
Instead of a berating, however, Kelda was answered by a chorus of other burps, belches and laughter as the dwarves finished chugging their drinks. Ori, the youngest of them, let out the loudest and longest burp and as everyone fell to fits of laughter, Bilbo looked at them all in disgust before turning away.
"Excuse me that is a doily, not a dishcloth!" Bilbo snapped as he yanked at a doily clutched in Nori's hands. Kelda was content to watch the exchange from where she stood wiping down the table. Despite being more than willing to join in the dwarves' misadventures, the skyling wasn't about to leave the place looking like a wreck after dinner. She would have felt terrible if she'd left it all to their poor hosting hobbit, who was obviously frustrated enough as it was.
"But it's full of holes!" Bofur said from where he leaned against the wall, watching as the hobbit yanked the doily from Nori's hands.
"It's supposed to look like that, it's crochet."
"Oh, and a wonderful game it is too, if you've got the balls for it."
"Bebother and confusicate these dwarves!" Kelda heard Bilbo say as he walked away, and she laughed quietly to herself.
"I think he's being a bit over-dramatic. They're not so bad," she said out loud to Sitheiyra as she continued to wipe down the table, scrubbing at a sticky spot of spilled ale.
I believe that manner of thinking is due to the fact that you may as well be one of them. The gryphon responded drowsily from where she lay curled up outside, just beneath the still open window.
"If only I could be so lucky," Kelda muttered before heading out of the dining room so she could re-wet the washcloth in the kitchen. She weaved through the wandering mass of dwarves, only to come upon Ori standing in front of Bilbo and Gandalf, who had just been in the midst of conversation.
"Excuse me," the young dwarf said politely to Bilbo. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"
I swear on all my ancestors, if he yells at that boy I'll take his head off, Kelda thought as she watched the situation with a wary eye and a sudden shot of maternal protectiveness of the young dwarf. She found there was no need for concern, however, as Fili approached them.
"Here you go, Ori, give it to me," Fili said before taking the plate from Ori and throwing it over to Kili. The dark haired brother then threw the plate behind his back to Bifur, who was standing at the kitchen sink. As Bifur caught the plate without even looking at it, everyone began to toss plates and bowls and silverware to each other, every piece ending up unscathed in the sink to be washed. Gandalf ducked lowly to avoid being hit in the head by flying dinnerware.
"Excuse me, that's my mother's West Farthing crockery, it's over a hundred years old!" Bilbo said as he watched his plates flying about in horror. He then turned to glare at the dwarves still at the table, who had begun to rhythmically drum the utensils on the tabletop. "And c-can you not do that? You'll blunt them!"
"Ooh, d'hear that lads?" Bofur said sarcastically, continuing the rhythmic banging in spite of the hobbit's protest. "He says we'll blunt the knives!"
Hmm, Kelda heard Sitheiyra say as the gryphon once again slipped her head through the open window to see what was happening. Are we about to have us a song?
It seems like it, Kelda answered, sitting herself down to watch with a contented smirk. Dwarves were prone to random bouts of singing. She never really understood why but she had never minded it and as Kili began to sing, the others joining in after, the skyling settled back and lifted her hand to stroke the underside of Sitheiyra's neck, prepared to enjoy the nightly entertainment.
"Blunt the knives bend the forks
Smash the bottles and burn the corks
Chip the glasses and crack the plates
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!
Cut the cloth and tread on the fat
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat
Pour the milk on the pantry floor
Splash the wine on every door
Dump the crocks in the boiling bowl
Pound them up with a thumping pole
When you've finished if any are whole
Send them down the hall to roll…
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"
Kelda just sat there and laughed as Bilbo huffed in anger and pushed through the dwarves to assess the damage, but the dwarves had done none of the things in their song. Instead the dishes were cleaned perfectly and stacked neatly beside the sink; everyone laughed at his disbelief. The laughter stopped abruptly, though, at the sound of three loud, heavy knocks on the door. Everyone went entirely silent and Kelda sat straight up in her chair, her gaze snapping to the front door.
"He is here," Gandalf said quietly and as everyone followed the wizard and the hobbit into the foyer Kelda remained where she was, though she found herself quite unable to continue sitting calmly in her chair. Hearing the sound of the door opening, she lurched to her feet and stood there awkwardly for a moment before going over to Sitheiyra to stoke her ebony feathers, something the skyling often did for reassurance.
"Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn't have found it at all if it had not been for that mark on the door."
At the sound of the new voice, Kelda froze in place. New wasn't the right word though, not really. Certainly it was new to that particular place, to the hobbit-hole and their host, but not to Kelda. No, to Kelda that voice was old and familiar and suddenly she found herself uncharacteristically terrified.
"Mark?" She heard Bilbo say. "There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!"
"There is a mark on the door; I put it there myself," Gandalf retorted. Kelda could almost see the look of annoyance she imagined would be on the halfling's face at that answer. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."
"So, this is the Hobbit. Tell me, Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?" Thorin asked. Kelda could tell by the tone of his voice that he was already skeptical; gods but he sounded exactly the same, besides lacking the typical warmth to his voice that she had been used to.
"Pardon me?" Bilbo responded in confusion.
"Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?"
"Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see how that's relevant."
"Thought as much," Thorin said, his voice heavy with amusement. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."
The other dwarves laughed at that, and as she heard them all start moving back into the house and toward the dining room she grew more anxious, shifting herself over as if to hide behind the gryphon in the window. Sitheiyra purred at the skyling with a mixture of amusement and calm reassurance.
You have faced the wrath of cave trolls without so much as flinching, and yet now you are trembling. Calm yourself, little one. You know him.
I knew him, Kelda corrected just as the person in question walked through the doorway. Thorin Oakenshield had been younger the last time she'd seen him, when Erebor fell to the fire-drake. The dwarf prince didn't look all that different, beyond the few strands of silver-gray hair running through his black mane; it made him look dignified, regal even. As he entered the room and his blue eyes fell upon Kelda and Sitheiyra he stopped short, looking them both over as he did.
You're hiding, Sitheiyra said before moving her head to look more directly at Thorin and leaving Kelda with nothing to hide behind. The skyling immediately drew herself up straight, shuffling her wings nervously for a moment before finally deciding on a course of action and bowing her head politely.
"Master Oakenshield," she said, her voice sounding small and wavering, even to herself. Kelda knew the other dwarves were behind him, watching the exchange, and she felt like a fool. The fact that she probably looked as nervous as she felt didn't help her anxiety. She suddenly regretted having spoken at all as she hesitantly raised her gaze back to Thorin, uncertain of the reaction she would get.
"Lady Mage," Thorin answered, meeting her uneasy silver gaze with one of remembered warmth and fondness. Kelda felt the tight knot in her stomach relax a bit at that and she managed to give him a small smile before his attention was taken by one of the other dwarves placing a plate of food on the table in front of him. As she returned to running her hands over Sitheiyra's silky plumage and the dwarves all took their seats once more at the table, Kelda allowed herself a quiet sigh of relief. Perhaps this wouldn't be as difficult as she had first imagined.
It never is, Sitheiyra said in response to Kelda's inner thought. The skyling had every intention of standing there with her gryphon and acting as an outside observer, but found that she would have no such luck as Thorin once again caught her gaze. He motioned for her to take the seat to his right, as was customary when dealing with another person of royal blood. Kelda hesitated; she wasn't used to being so casually recognized by her status but at the same time she didn't want to turn him down, not if it might cause him insult. She probably would have stood there longer if it hadn't been for Sitheiyra. The gryphon gave her a gentle nudge with her beak.
Go sit with the Stone-Child and try not to look so worried; it is not as if he is going to bite you, Sitheiyra said, giving Kelda a high whistle of encouragement.
That's not the issue, Kelda responded, but she knew the Muzmulomil was right; sitting next to Thorin Oakenshield was hardly going to kill her. So, doing her best to look the part of someone worthy of that honorary seat, Kelda made her way around the table. She slid into the chair with as much grace as she could muster and tried her hardest not to look as nervous as she suddenly felt again.
"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?" Balin asked Thorin, who nodded his head as he ate.
"Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms," Thorin replied. The dwarves muttered amongst themselves at what their prince had said.
"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" Dwalin asked, leaning forward. "Is Dain with us?
"They will not come," Thorin said solemnly, his statement met by the disappointed gazes and murmurs from his kinsmen. "They say this quest is ours and ours alone."
Kelda let her pale silver gaze sweep over the group of crestfallen dwarves before dropping it to the tabletop. She couldn't say she was entirely surprised that their fellows had denied them any help. Dwarves weren't known to just give out assistance at the best of times, let alone when there was a damned flame-breathing behemoth involved. Still, it was a let-down to be sure; Smaug had plowed through an army of dwarves and men when he'd first appeared, batting them aside like they were insects. How was a group of fifteen supposed to slay him? Kelda prided herself on being a mage capable of destroying any enemy, but in the fire-drake's case she was having a hard time figuring how they were going to manage it.
"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo asked from where he stood at the entrance to the room, curiosity seeming to have won out over his annoyance. Gandalf glanced over at the Hobbit after he spoke, before reaching into his robes and pulling out what looked to Kelda like a folded piece of parchment.
"Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light," the wizard said as he bent over the table and spread a map out over it, in front of Thorin. Bilbo hurried and brought a candle into the room, leaning over the table himself to look at the map.
"Far to the east, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak," Gandalf said as the others, Kelda included, leaned forward to look at the map themselves.
"The Lonely Mountain," Bilbo said quietly, reading the name off of the map. Kelda's heart clenched at the sight of it there on the paper, just a small ink-mark to represent a wondrous place. Her wings shifted restlessly at the thought of returning to the place she so loved, the rustling of her feathers seeming loud in the quiet of the room.
"Home," the skyling added softly, feeling the eyes of several of the dwarves turn to her as she lifted her gaze to meet Bilbo's across the table, then Thorin's at the head of it. His stare was unwavering and hard to read at first, but once their eyes met his look softened a bit and he gave her an almost imperceptible incline of the head. Kelda couldn't help but smile at his agreement that she had the right to call Erebor home too.
"Aye," Gloin, a dwarf with beads adorning his long red beard, said. "Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time."
"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it has been foretold," said Oin, a gray haired dwarf with intricate braids in his beard. "When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end."
"Uh, what beast?" Bilbo asked, looking around in concern at the gathered group. Kelda raised her brows slightly.
"You don't know?" She asked in disbelief, unsure how anyone could not have known about the fire-drake inhabiting the Lonely Mountain.
"Well, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age," said Bofur. "Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat-hooks, extremely fond of precious metals—"
"Yes, I know what a dragon is." Bilbo interrupted quickly.
"Well I'm not afraid! I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of dwarvish iron right up his jacksie," Ori announced, causing the others to go into an uproar, talking over themselves loudly and enthusiastically.
"Sit down!" Dori said as he pulled Ori back down into his chair.
"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us," Balin said, echoing Kelda's earlier thought. "But we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best and brightest."
"Fourteen," Kelda added, but only the older dwarf heard her as the room once again flew into an uproar, with shouted comments such as 'Who are you calling dim?' and other similar expressions filling the room with a cacophony of noise.
"I apologize, lass," Balin leaned over and said to Kelda, his expression kind. "I didn't mean you."
"We may be few in number, but we're fighters, all of us, down to the last dwarf!" Fili shouted, garnering the attention of the others.
"And you forget," began Kili, sitting next to his older brother. "We have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!"
Gandalf looked up sharply at this statement, and Kelda found herself having to hide her smile behind her hand at his expression. Suddenly she was glad that she was not in any real position of 'expertise', besides being a spell-slinger.
"Oh, well, now, uh, I...I-I wouldn't say that, I," the wizard began to stammer, but was interrupted by Dori as the gray haired dwarf leaned forward to look at him.
"How many then?"
"Erm, what?"
"Well, how many dragons have you killed? Go on, give us a number!"
The wizard started coughing on his pipe smoke, obviously embarrassed, and once again the dwarves began shouting over one another, this time all arguing about how many dragons they each thought Gandalf had killed.
"Shazara!" Thorin bellowed angrily, suddenly jumping to his feet and causing everyone else in the room to go immediately silent. Kelda flinched at the sound of his raised voice, her silvery eyes snapping to him as he spoke. "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risks. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what's rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!"
The dwarf prince's battle cry rang in Kelda's ears and as his fellows broke into roaring cheers, she was unable to stop the wide smile of elation that spread across her face. The skyling very nearly bounced with anticipation at the thought of not only the adventure, but the fact that a free Erebor, returned to its glory, was surely waiting for them at the end of it. She could not only see Thorin's determination but he made her feel it in a way only a true leader could; he'd take back the Lonely Mountain through sheer force of will if he had to and, dragon and death be damned, she'd help him do it.
The feeling of large hands resting on her shoulders made the skyling tear her gaze from Thorin, and she looked up to find Gandalf standing behind her. He looked down at her with raised eyebrows and an amused expression, his gaze flickering from her to Thorin and then back, and Kelda felt her cheeks burn with heat. By the sky's blue breath, had she been staring? She sighed internally; she'd been staring and the wizard had noticed. Kelda cleared her throat in embarrassment, shifted her weight in her chair and returned her attention to the other rowdy dwarves while intentionally avoiding looking at their leader again.
"You forget," Balin said once the cheering had died down a bit. "The front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain."
"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," Gandalf said. The wizard twiddled his fingers and suddenly a key appeared in his hand, where nothing had been before. It was fairly large, ornate and was most obviously a dwarf-made key. As Thorin saw it his eyes widened and he stared at it in wonder.
"How came you by this?" Thorin asked, looking up from the key to Gandalf.
"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now," the wizard said, reaching out and handing the key to Thorin who took it from him reverently, turning it over in his hands and looking more closely at it. Kelda stood out of her seat, resting her hands on the edge of the table to lean forward and peer at the old key, entirely ignorant of the fact that she probably shouldn't have been invading the dwarf prince's personal space like she was.
"If there's a key, there must be a door," Fili said, looking around at the others. Gandalf looked at the young dwarf momentarily before using the tip of his long tobacco pipe to point at some runes along the edge of the map.
"These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls."
"There's another way in!"
"Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed," Gandalf replied to Kili's excited statement. "The answer lies hidden in this map and I do not have the skill to find it."
"What of you?" Thorin said, turning to look at Kelda. The skyling, startled by the dwarf suddenly turning to her, would have jumped a foot backwards if she hadn't had the chair behind her. Instead the chair nearly fell over when she bumped into it and she silently cursed how close she'd allowed herself to get to Thorin while looking at the key. He'd caught her by surprise.
"Me?" Kelda chirped. The corners of Thorin's eyes crinkled in what seemed like amusement and he gave a slight nod of the head.
"You're a spell-caster. Can you find what the wizard cannot?"
"Oh, no. No, sorry, but my abilities lie in battle-magic and healing. Deciphering subtle magic such as this is not within my capabilities."
"Battle-magic? What kind of battle magic?" Ori asked, gazing at her curiously.
"Well, I could go for hours really explaining what kind of battle magic, as there are all kinds and every magic user has their own specialties. But, as I'm sure nobody wants to sit here that long, I'll keep it simple and narrow it down to four things." Kelda held up four fingers, tapping each one as she listed an item off. "One: I use various defensive spells, from creating invisible walls to active camouflage. Two: I blow stuff up. People, things, whatever makes no difference. Three: I use force-energy to manipulate objects and/or crush things to paste. And four: I heal. I'm the one that comes to the rescue when you're bleeding out on the battlefield and need someone to push your guts back in. Moral of the story? You should all want to be really nice to me."
"We'll be certain to keep that in mind, Lady Mage," Thorin said, giving her a patient but firm look. He needed to keep everyone on topic, which was difficult enough as it was and she wasn't helping. Kelda simply looked back at him with a smile that radiated pure innocence.
Stop flirting at the war-council, little one. It's unbecoming.
Shut up, Sitheiyra, I'm not flirting. Kelda shot back to Sitheiyra, giving her a mental shove to which the Muzmulomil simply replied with mischievous laughter.
"There are others in Middle-Earth who can find what we're looking for," Gandalf interjected quickly, before anything else could be said. "The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."
"That's why we need a burglar."
"Hm, and a good one, too," Bilbo said after having been silent for quite some time. Kelda had almost forgotten he was there. "An expert, I imagine."
"And are you?" Gloin asked. Bilbo looked up, furrowing his brow.
"Am I what?"
"He said he's an expert!" Oin said, causing the rest of them to laugh and grow rowdy once again. The hobbit, suddenly realizing what exactly they were going on about, immediately began shaking his head and protesting.
"M-me? No, no, no, no, no. I'm not a burglar; I've never stolen a thing in my life."
"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mister Baggins," Balin said, looking between Gandalf, Thorin and Bilbo with an expression of wise caution. "He's hardly burglar material."
With Bilbo nodding in agreement, Thorin glanced at him, the wizard and then at Kelda. He arched an eyebrow, silently asking for her opinion, which she was more than willing to give him. Kelda looked Bilbo Baggins over herself and she couldn't say she disagreed with Thorin's earlier statement that he looked more like a grocer than a burglar. He was about her height which, as far as she knew, was the average size for a hobbit. Curly hair, not exactly lean, impeccably dressed, even though he wore casual attire. The hobbit looked like gentlefolk and while the skyling knew that many times looks could be deceiving she couldn't see how he had any potential to be a warrior. He was too soft of hand, too quiet of voice and if he was flustered at the appearance of a group of friendly dwarves, how would he react to the calamity that was Smaug? Kelda imagined his heart would give out at the sight.
"I don't know," she said with a dubious look and a shrug of her shoulders. "As much as I want to say to trust the wizard's instincts, I'm not sure dragging the halfling about with us in the wilds is a risk worth taking."
"Aye," Dwalin said gruffly. "The wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves."
Bilbo continued to nod his head in agreement with them and once again the room fell into chaos as the dwarves began to argue among themselves. Kelda sighed, crossing her arms as she watched them. Anybody else would have found this odd, the way they seemed to always fly into an uproar, but the skyling woman knew that it was just how they were. There was no ill will or anger in their raised voices. Shouting at each other was simply the dwarvish way of working things out.
That didn't mean it wasn't trying at times, however, and as the dwarves got louder their wizard began to get angry. The air became thicker and heavy with static in a similar way to the atmosphere before a storm. Kelda couldn't help but grow tense as she watched darkness begin to fill the room, centering on Gandalf. The wizard stood, rising to his full height, and then began to speak angrily in a voice that was unnaturally loud and echoing.
"Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is."
The dining room was deathly quiet and everyone stared at the wizard with a mixture of fear and awe, like he was suddenly some great and unknown beast having appeared in their midst. The darkness receded and Gandalf resumed his normal tone of voice, once again looking like no more than an old man, but it had been a solid reminder to all of them of his truer nature as an envoy of old and powerful gods.
"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet," Gandalf continued calmly. "In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of Hobbits is all but unknown to him, giving us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth and fifteenth members of this company and, along with Kelda, I have chosen Mister Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know," Gandalf turned to give Bilbo a quick glance. "Including himself. You must trust me on this."
"Very well," Thorin relented after looking Gandalf over for a moment. "We will do it your way."
"No! No, no, no," Bilbo said, turning to look at the dwarf prince. Thorin ignored the hobbit, turning his attention to Balin instead.
"Give him the contract."
"Please," Bilbo pleaded, his words falling on deaf ears as Balin handed the folded contract to Thorin, who simply slapped it against the hobbit's chest without looking at him. Kelda could see that he was annoyed with having to bring the halfling along, though he hid it relatively well by dwarf standards.
"It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses," Balin was saying cheerfully to Bilbo as the hobbit began to unfold the long contract. "Time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements and so forth."
"Funeral arrangements?"
Kelda watched Bilbo's reactions as he read the contract to himself, stepping a few feet out of the room. His brow furrowed ever more at every word he read. Out of the corner of her eye Kelda saw Thorin lean over to Gandalf, the two of them sharing a few quiet words. Judging by their expressions she could guess the gist of the conversation. The dwarves would not stop to look out for the halfling should something happen to him. They would not help those who could not help themselves; it wasn't out of cruelty, it was just the dwarvish way. They valued a person's deeds and capabilities over all else. A person had to prove their worth to a dwarf.
The skyling sighed, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. She hadn't the slightest inkling as to what the wizard could possibly be thinking. The hobbit would be killed, she had no doubt about that. As they all watched Bilbo look over the contract Kelda knew that in the end, if he joined them, she would make him her responsibility. There was no way she'd be able to leave him to fend for himself and come away with a clean conscience. Kelda looked back over at Bilbo once he began to read some of the contract aloud.
"Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fifteenth of total profit, if any. Seems fair. Eh, present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, including but not limited to lacerations…evisceration…eh, incineration?"
"Oh aye, melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," Bofur said, his tone overly cheerful, considering the topic of conversation.
"Huh." Bilbo began to turn a bit pale, looking as if he couldn't quite keep his breath. Kelda sighed and rested her face in the palm of her hand, seeing the signs and knowing exactly what was coming.
"Are you alright, laddie?" Kelda heard Balin ask, regardless of the fact that it was quite obvious what the answer was. The skyling could hear the nausea in the halfing's voice when he responded.
"Uh, yeah…feel a bit faint."
"Think furnace with wings," Bofur added again, unhelpfully.
"Air, I-I-I need air."
"Flash of light, searing pain, then Poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash."
There was a short moment of silence that followed, filled with the heavy breathing of a hobbit trying to compose himself. Then a softly spoken 'nope', and a thud as Bilbo fell to the floor. Sitheiyra twittered in amusement at the fainted halfing.
"Ah, very helpful, Bofur," Kelda heard Gandalf say. She sighed heavily again, turning her silvery eyes to the ceiling; oh yes, she was in for it indeed.
Khuzdul translations:
Muzmulomil-beast of the night
Shazara-silence
Du Bekâr- to arms