His whiskey color eyes glanced around the wooden area, the night sky starless, the moon a hollow of darkness, no light from a campfire, and yet he could see the leaves upon the trees and the beetles crawling across the strewn of bodies by his feet. The wind blew with embers of blacken ash across his face, falling into his darken, water down, dark chocolate brown hair, and down across the bodies. His eyes shown saddens that he felt at these creatures misfortune.
He lifted his twin daggers as the bushes behind him rustle, the lad felt small hairs on his neck lift in cold fear, but he hid it behind a controlled mask of indifference. He slowly turned, silently on the ball of his feet, and ready his stance just as an old man limped out from behind the bushes. Light graying blue eyes, shock and wide, landed on him as he slightly lowered his daggers.
"What are you doing here, wizard?" The lad questioned softly as if afraid of waking those who laid by his feet. They both knew that they wouldn't wake. His voice carried on the wind, a silence fell on them for a moment as both grieved for the bodies near them.
"Saw the embers from a distance." The wizard answered while leaning heavy on his staff. The lad noticed the stand, his eyes followed the wizard's frame down. In the dark he could see the old, drying blood on the cloak, his suspicion raising. His grip on his daggers tighten, his stand tighter than before.
"And the wound?" The lad motion for the bloody cloth that the wizard was wearing. The wizard looked down as if surprised at the stain. Looking between them, the wizard was about to explain; however, the excuse that was ready on his lips were stop. The glistering blade was covered in blood, the shot was nearly missed by his head and a gurgle was sounded near the wizard's ear. With frighten glance, the wizard glanced over his shoulder, and with a yell a body fell on him, knocking him down to the ground.
"Stand old man," The lad ordered, his voice full with unsounded laughter. The wizard glanced up at him and the hand that was held out for him. He took it and with s quick tug, his was on his feet. "You shouldn't turn your back in the dark."
"Thank you." The wizard muttered as he looked at the creature before him. Decaying, mummy like, skin covered the formless creature before him. Black armor was what the creature was wearing, unmark, but a blade was in hand with a golden emblem on the butt of the sword. A mark that was not known widely, but only in books.
"Is that?" The wizard questioned softly, after getting over the fact that his had almost died.
"Yes." The lad answered.
Gandalf smiled softly as the campfire lighten the small camp around him. He could see the faces of his companies. The looks he was getting was ones he was expecting, but the hobbit in the group had turned away as if scared of the story. However, the wizard known better. He knew that the hobbit knew which creature he described in his story, the emblem that not just books know, but all hobbits knew.
"What was the creature that the lad had killed?" One of the younger dwarfs had question. All of the younger dwarfs were on the edge of their seats, waiting for him to continue, but yet he could answer for he did not know the answer.
"They're from the shadows within the mountains." Their small hobbit answered, every pair of eyes were on him. His stiffen back told them that he was not expecting them to just abandon Gandalf's story.
"From the shadows within the shadows?" Their leader, Thorin questioned. The hobbit glanced over to him, his eyes reflect the fire before him. Dark rich brown eyes looked around the entire group, stopping at each and every one of their stares. His sigh told of many years of grief that was never dealt with, his next words were heavy:
"Not many hobbits tells the story of the dark ones, the creatures that once lived in the mountains. The reason why we left our lands. For it is only between us hobbits, not to be shared upon outsiders… (Voices of protest were yelled across the campfire.) These creatures once lived within the mountains, these mountains laid over the plains that once was rich berries and such, but one day they came from the mountains. A sickness fell upon the land, many died; one man stood up and took an oath. This oath lost in history, once was powerful and this man went and left his family behind. He died with the mountains burning as he watched the rising sun…or so the stories are."
"You were forced to leave?"
"Yes, all hobbits come from the land of forgotten fields, but each year we are told of the story. That is why we usually stay homes and don't leave."
"Why did you leave?" Thorin questioned, his eyes trained on the hobbit. Said hobbit never took his eyes of the king, even when he answered.
"Because you all lost your home, I want to help you get it back."