An Audience with the King

I arrived just in time to see the front door swing open, narrowly avoiding hitting my head on the low beams in my haste to get there in time. With Gandalf's warning in mind, I stayed in retreat and surveyed the scene from a distance, which was not as difficult as it sounds since that I was taller than almost everyone in the room, and therefore had no trouble whatsoever checking out the newcomer.

He was, as I had expected, a dwarf. His thick black hair was unbraided and streaked with grey, falling down at shoulder-length. The moment the door opened, he slowly turned to face us. There was something intimidating about the way his dark eyes scanned the room, searching everyone's face until he finally found who he was looking for.

His gaze softened somewhat as he found Gandalf standing behind the door. A small smile played at his lips. "Gandalf," he said in a deep voice, stepping over the threshold, "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice. I would not have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

The dwarves bowed their heads in greeting as the newcomer unfastened his cloak and swept it from his shoulders. I bobbed my head as well, not wanting to stand out but completely at a loss at what else was expected from me. The newcomer was obviously someone of importance amongst the dwarven community and he radiated pride with every step. I settled for standing completely still, hoping that I would pass unnoticed until Gandalf chose to introduce me.

"A mark?" Bilbo exclaimed as he pushed his way past the dwarves. "There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!"

"There is a mark," Gandalf insisted firmly, pushing the door closed before the little hobbit could get a closer look, "I put it there myself." He caught sight of the newcomer's inquisitive stare and hurried on. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce to you the leader of our company: Thorin Oakenshield."

Bilbo finally seemed to understand the gravity of the situation as the newcomer bore down on him, dark eyes scanning over his small person. "So," Thorin said. "This is the hobbit." His tone suggested that he was not impressed. "Tell me mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

Bilbo started to answer but Thorin cut across him: "Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?" Several of the dwarves chuckled and I could see why. The hobbit had clearly never held a weapon in his life.

Nevertheless Bilbo refused to let Thorin stare him down as he drew himself up to his full height and said: "Well, I have some skill at conkers, if you must know. But I fail to see why that's relevant."

Thorin did not look amused. "Thought as much," he said, turning to the band of dwarves. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." Laughter greeted his comment and Bilbo shifted uncomfortably.

I would have felt sorry for him, but at that moment Thorin's gaze swept over to where I was trying to blend into the background.

"What's this?" He stepped forwards and the dwarves parted to let him through. He looked accusingly over his shoulder to where Gandalf was standing. "You didn't tell me you were bringing company."

I cleared my throat, drawing his attention back to me. I could see Gandalf wincing in the background. "Hello," I said, willing myself to hold his gaze. I thrust out my hand. "I'm Cassie. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Thorin glanced down at my hand, clearly confused. There was an awkward silence and I lowered my hand, blushing. New world, new social rules. Apparently handshakes didn't mean squat over here.

Gandalf jumped to the rescue. "Cassie is a friend of mine." He came to rest a hand on my shoulder. "She has traveled very far in order to be with us tonight." I frowned at this. What is he doing? He was making it sound as if I had planned to be here.

Thorin did not look convinced. "Really?" His dark eyes bore into mine, somehow managing to make me feel very small. "What is the name of your city?"

The dwarves looked at me expectantly. They had all been ready to take Gandalf's word on my account when the evening had begun, but now that their leader was back and clearly suspicious, they wanted answers. Hoo boy.

"Oh, you would not have heard of it," Gandalf said airily. "It is a very small village in the north that goes by the name of London." I almost laughed at that. Almost.

"But what is she doing here?"

That's a very good question. What am I doing here old man?

"Well," Gandalf said brightly, "as we were journeying to mister Baggins' home, Cassie graciously offered to assist us on our quest. I believe that she would make a valuable addition to the company."

Wait, what? I gaped at him. What the hell is he talking about?

I probably would have voiced my protests if Gandalf hadn't given me a look that clearly said, be quite and let me finish. I opened my mouth, ready to give him a piece of my mind but Thorin beat me to it.

"You cannot be serious." He looked at me with distaste. "A woman?"

Oh no. You did not just say that.

"Excuse me?" Anger flared up inside me as I stepped forwards, towering over the dwarf. I wasn't sure who it was directed at exactly, Mr. Macho or the old geezer who'd set me up, but someone was gonna burn. "I'll have you know that I can kick ass just as well as any of your buddies over there." Thorin seemed taken aback by my outburst, but I wasn't done yet. "If you have a problem with my gender then say it to my face you arrogant prick! As for you." I spun to face Gandalf, who was pinching the bridge of his nose with a pained expression on his face. "I need to talk to you. Outside. Now."

"Well, you made quite the first impression," Gandalf said as he closed the round door behind us.

"He started it," I muttered. The effects of the alcohol were starting to wear off and I rubbed my temples against the headache threatening behind my eyelids.

"But you certainly finished it." He came to stand beside me.

"Yeah, well I hate it when men pull that kind of crap." I glared at him. "And speaking of crap, what the hell was that back there? I only came for the free meal. You never said anything about joining a bloody quest! What are you trying to force me into?"

"I am not trying to force you into anything. I am merely suggesting that accompanying us on our journey may be in your best interest."

"Really? And how did you come to that conclusion?"

Gandalf sighed patiently. "I have told you once before that you cannot hope to fool me. I have been watching you closely throughout the evening and it has become clear to me that you are not just a mere traveler from a distant land. The truth is far more complex than that, is it not?"

I ground my teeth in frustration. So much for humoring me. The old man had just been binding his time, waiting for the right moment to start drilling me with questions. And what could I tell him? What could I possibly say that wouldn't pass me off as a nut job? "None of your business."

"I am making it my business young lady." He drew out a clay pipe from the inside of his robes. "You appear to be as ignorant of your whereabouts as I am of this London you hail from." He lit the end of the pipe with a quick motion of his fingers. I blinked. What had he just done?

He spoke again before I could question him about it: "You seemed to be less than impressed by the maps Bilbo gave to you."

I flushed. I hadn't been aware that he'd witnessed my little brake-down. How embarrassing. "Look, I know I'm being really vague but…" I sighed in defeat, "Truth is you wouldn't believe my story. Hell, I'm still not sure I believe it."

Gandalf waited patiently for me to go on. He drew a long breath from his pipe and blew out a perfect smoke-ring. I watched as it floated away into the night. After a minute I spoke again:

"Where are we exactly? And don't say the Shire, I got that already. What country are we in?" What world?

The old man gave me a long, thoughtful look. "Eriador," he said eventually. When the name bore no hint of recognition he raised a bushy eyebrow and added, "Middle-earth."

I gave a shaky laugh. "See, I come from plain old Earth and I haven't the faintest idea how I got here. One minute I was walking home from work in London, then I got hit by…a vehicle," I faltered but pressed on before he took notice, "and I got zapped to the middle of a forest." I sighed hopelessly. "And I don't know how to get back."

I closed my eyes and waited for him to scoff, to tell me that the whole thing was ridiculous and that I was obviously insane. There was a long silence. Gandalf finally cleared his throat and I braced myself.

"Well," he said matter-of-factly, "I can see how that must have been confusing for you."

Okay, not quite the reaction I was expecting. I looked at the old man in surprise. "You don't think I'm lying?"

"Should I? You have not yet given me reason to believe that you are not trust-worthy." His tone became more urgent. "Being the first to cross your path has left me with a sense of responsibility towards you. Therefore I urge you to reconsider my offer. Granted, our quest will not be easily achieved and there will many perils to face on the way," he leant closer, "but I am offering you somewhere to be. If we leave without you tomorrow morning, you will be alone."

My chest tightened. I blinked furiously against the angry tears threatening to well up in my eyes. I wanted to shout at the old man, to scream that I didn't want or need his help. Who the hell did he think he was, deciding what was best for me? I'd always managed by myself. But looking up I saw the stars twinkling innocently in the sky above and I knew deep down that he was right. This wasn't something I could solve by myself. It was too big for me. I needed help.

But that wasn't all. There was another emotion brewing inside me. Something I hadn't been able to feel since the war had ended. Anticipation. I'd felt more alive in these past twelve hours than I'd had for over six months.

And I'd be damned if I was letting it slip away that easily.

I released a long breath I hadn't been aware I was holding and turned to face Gandalf's waiting gaze. "Tell me more about this quest."

By the time we returned to the kitchen Gandalf had filled me in on most of the details. Turned out that the dwarf I'd insulted was important. He was a freakin' king. And I thought my day couldn't get any worse.

The reason Thorin Oakenshield was currently camping out with twelve other dwarves in Bilbo's hobbit-hole was simple: They were embarking on a journey to the Lonely Mountain (wherever the hell that was) to reclaim their kingdom (Erebor) from an evil dragon named Smaug, and they needed the hobbit to come with them so that he could, I dunno, clean their dirty laundry and cook them dinner I suppose.

"Now then, my dear," Gandalf reprimanded when I expressed my skepticism, "Mister Baggins has much to offer us. Hobbits can move without sound if they choose to and Smaug it not accustomed to their sent, which will give us a distinct advantage when we arrive at his lair. We will be glad to have brought him along by the time we are through."

"And does Mister Baggins know that you plan to drag him along?" Call me crazy, but judging by the shocked expression on the hobbit's face when he'd opened the door to us earlier this evening, I doubted it.

"It will take some persuading but rest assured; he will come around. He is part Took after all and I am certain that a taste of adventure is precisely what he needs."

"If you say so." I tried hard to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but if the road ahead was as dangerous as the old man was making it sound then the little guy wouldn't last three days.

Gandalf clapped his hands. "I think all that remains to be done now is to persuade Thorin of your usefulness to our quest. Do you possess any skills that might help us do that?" He caught my blank look. "Can you sew?"

I snorted. "No, and I can't cook either. Some woman I make, huh?"

The old man was not discouraged. "You mentioned going home from work before you were brought to our land. What is your trade?"

I shrugged. "I work in Mr. Mulpepper's apothecary in Diagon alley. We sell herbs to potioneers."

This seemed to interest him. "So you are able to recognize basic medicinal herbs? Can you dress a wound?"

"Yes." We had learnt about healing potions and their uses with professor Snape, our potions master at Hogwarts, and despite his hatred for the student body in general it was a subject in which I had aced. After the Ministry had fallen to the hands of You-know-who and muggle-borns were being hunted throughout the country, the knowledge of edible plants and medicinal herbs had made the difference between life and death for me.

Gandalf clapped me on the back. "Thorin will see the benefit in that!" he said cheerfully. "Now, I think we have kept them waiting long enough don't you? Let us return to the gathering."

In the kitchen the dwarves had seated themselves around the table, Thorin at its head. Bilbo was perched on a stool close by and seemed relieved to see us return. The dwarves were obviously putting him on edge. I couldn't blame him. The tense atmosphere at the table was almost palpable as the king discussed a meeting with his kin that he had just returned from. Apparently, they had refused to help in his quest to reclaim Erebor. The news was greeted with a chorus of groans from the dwarves seated around the table. Thorin nodded to Gandalf as we entered the room and pointed to his left hand side, inviting him to sit. He ignored me completely. Crap. Gandalf's word may have a lot of influence over the company but it was Thorin that I really needed to convince if I wanted in on the quest. I had a feeling that if a simple no from the dwarf king would be enough to force me to stay behind. It was essential that I at least appear humbled, even if I still felt miffed by his sexist comment from earlier.

"A quest?" Bilbo piped up as we sat down (the dwarves scooted over to give us room). "You're going on a quest?" I raised my eyebrows at Gandalf. The hobbit really didn't have a clue.

"Bilbo, my dear fellow," the old man said. "Let us have a little more light."

When the hobbit returned with a lamp Gandalf launched into pretty much the same story he had told me outside, pulling out a map to show the location of the mountain. Then one of the dwarves, I think his name was Gloin, started rattling on about how all the signs were in place. Something about birds flying back to the mountains and 'the reign of the beast arriving at an end'. It all sounded wonderfully cryptic and about as reliable as one of professor Trelawney's predictions.

At that point I zoned out as the company started to debate the likeliness of their success against Smaug. I began to make a mental list of what I knew about dragons from my classes. The only time I'd ever gotten close to one was during my fourth year when the Triwizard Tournament had taken place at Hogwarts, during which three renowned magical schools (Hogwarts, Beauxbatons academy and Durmstrang institute) had each elected a champion to represent them in a series of tasks. The first task had consisted in stealing a golden egg from a dragon. The task had been closely monitored by professional dragon trainers, so there had been no real danger, but the image of the deadly creatures was seared into my memory. And I was planning to help kill one. I must really have a death wish.

It was only when one of the younger looking dwarves exclaimed: "And you forget we have a wizard in our company! Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!", that I snapped back to the present. What?

The dwarves looked at Gandalf expectantly. The old man coughed uncomfortably and said: "Oh, now, I – I wouldn't say that –"

"How many then?" one of the dwarves interrupted. "How many dragons have you killed?"

When Gandalf looked embarrassed, the whole table went into uproar, every dwarf simultaneously leaping to his feet to argue. It was only when Thorin himself joined the commotion, drowning out every other voice with his own, that things quieted down. "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too?" The king's eyes swept over the dwarves, who were hanging onto his every word.

I had lost interest, however. As Thorin continued his speech, I leant closer to Gandalf and hissed, "You're a wizard?" I don't know why I was annoyed; I should have been thrilled. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I had suspected there was more to the friendly old man that met the eye but hadn't been able to figure out what.

Gandalf looked down at me with an amused expression on his face. "Indeed," he said simply, eyes twinkling. "One of five."

Only five? That struck me as a little odd. Surly there was more than five wizards in this world? "What about…witches?" I whispered.

I suddenly became aware that the table had gone silent. The king had stopped talking and was fixing me with a cold stare. I must have spoken louder than I'd thought. Oops. Well, at least he wasn't ignoring me anymore.

"What is this talk about witches?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry. I just wanted to know how many witches there were in Middle-earth. I mean," I looked questioningly at Gandalf, "are they as few in number as wizards?"

"Fewer," Thorin answered before the old man could. "And for good reason. Their magic is drawn from the darkest recesses of human nature and corrupts the heart until there is nothing left but evil. They are a bane to our world."

I gaped at him, too shocked to do anything more than gawp. What the hell? Wizards got away with performing magic in Middle-earth but witches were accused of malevolence? How medieval was that? A wave of heat rushed to my face and I flushed angrily.

Thorin seemed oblivious to my outrage and asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Now may I return to the subject at hand?"

I would have liked nothing more than to hex him into oblivion, but a small voice in my head urged me to be cautious. I needed to win him over. I had already insulted him once and I couldn't afford another strike, not unless I wanted to be left behind. Besides, without my wand there was very little I could do to him.

Clenching my jaw so hard it hurt, I forced a smile on my lips and nodded stiffly. Thorin held my gaze for a few more seconds before he was satisfied and then returned to his speech. I felt Gandalf breathe a small sigh of relief beside me as everyone's attention was dawn back to the king.

"You forget that the front gate is sealed," a white-bearded dwarf said as soon as Thorin was finished. "There is no way into the mountain."

Gandalf stirred, producing a silver key from his robes. "That, my dear Balin is not entirely true." He held it out for everyone to see, then explained how Thorin's father had given him the key for safekeeping and that he was now giving it back to its rightful owner. Thorin seemed lost for words as the old wizard pressed the silver object into his hand and for a second, I forgot to be angry at him. This obviously meant a big deal to him.

"If there is a key," a blond dwarf said, spoiling the moment, "then there must be a door!"

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," I muttered sarcastically. Luckily, Thorin was still too mesmerized by his new found heirloom to pick up on my comment and my little slipup passed unnoticed.

Gandalf went on to explaining that the map had a hidden message that would reveal the entrance to a secret door on the side of the mountain. The only problem was that dwarf doors were invisible and therefore very hard to find. "The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage." His eyes darted to Bilbo who was hovering nearby before continuing. "But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar!" exclaimed Ori.

"And a good one too," Bilbo was leaning over the map, still painfully oblivious. "An expert I'd imagine."

I rolled my eyes. "He means you, you nitwit!"

Bilbo glanced up and his mouth dropped open. I could almost hear the click in his head as he finally caught on. "Me? Oh 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. "He's hardly burglar material."

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," said Dwalin. "And that goes for the lass as well." There was a murmur of agreement around the table.

"Hey, don't drag me into this!" I scowled at Dwalin. "I can take care of myself!"

Once more, the table erupted into shouts as the dwarves started arguing. This time I joined my voice to the fray, determined to have my say in the matter. I was from the twenty-first century, dammit, and I sure as heck wasn't just going to sit there quietly whist the men discussed my fate.

Suddenly a tremendous rumbling shook the kitchen and Gandalf stood, towering over everyone and looking severely pissed. In that instant, he looked nothing like the kindly old man who'd offered me his help on Bilbo's front door. In his place stood a terrifying and powerful wizard, and when he spoke his voiced boomed across the room, shocking us into silence. "Enough! If I say that Bilbo and Cassie are to accompany us on the morrow, then they shall." And just like that, the power drained from his body and he was the old man again. "They both have a great deal to offer us. Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet and can pass unseen by most if they choose. As for Cassie, she is well versed in the art of healing and has already assured me of her skill in battle."

Okay, that was stretching it a bit. Well versed in the art of healing? I was an apothecarist's assistant, for crying out loud! And where the hell did he hear that I was any good in a battle? Oh, right. When he'd been asking about the war I'd said that I knew how to defend myself. But what he didn't know was that I'd meant with a wand. I knew nothing about muggle fighting, and should probably set the record straight before they all got the wrong idea.

Thorin gave me a contemptuous look. "You cannot be serious. I doubt this woman knows the first thing about swordplay."

Okay, screw it. The haughty dwarf was really pissing me off. Before I could stop myself, I glared at him and retorted: "Stick 'em with the pointy end."

There was a surprised silence. Just as I was wondering if I'd crossed a line the hush was broken by a loud snort from Dwalin. "Aye, that's the gist of it, lassie!" He thumped me heavily on the back. "The girl has spirit lads! I say she comes!"

Gandalf spoke softly, looking intently at the king. "You must trust me on this."

Thorin's expression remained stoic. I twisted my fingers nervously as the seconds ticked by. After what seemed like an eternity the king finally spoke. "Very well. We will do it your way." Ignoring the hobbit's protests he turned to Balin. "Give them the contracts."

The white-bearded dwarf obliged, producing two slips of heavy parchment from his pocked. "It's just the usual," he said as he handed one out to Bilbo. "Summery of our expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth." He smiled at me apologetically. "I'm afraid I only have one example of the contract with me. We weren't expecting to recruit anyone else besides our burglar. But if you give me a minute, I will have a second contract written out for you in no time." He accepted a quill from the dwarf sitting next to him, dipped it in an ink bottle that he had extracted from his pocket, and began scribbling furiously.

Thorin held up his hand, his gaze boring into mine. "In signing this contract you accept full responsibility for any injury you may obtain in the course of our journey. Do not expect any special treatment from us on account of your gender; you will be treated no differently from any other dwarf of the company. If you slow us down you will be left behind. When we arrive at the dragon's lair you will receive half of the hobbit's share of gold. Do we have an agreement?"

I nodded.

A moment later I was presented with a summarized version of the contract that Bilbo was now examining in detail, muttering to himself every so often as he paced the room. I skimmed through it briefly but it reviled nothing more than what Balin had said it would. Dipping the quill in ink, I hastily signed the slip of paper and felt a small surge of victory when I was done. Ha! Let them try to get rid of me now! I handed the contract back to Balin who squinted down at my handwriting, smiled and exclaimed: "Welcome to the company, Miss Cassie!" I grinned.

"- Lacerations." Bilbo was squinting at his own contract. "…Eviscerations?" He glanced up, his face the picture of incredulity. "Incineration?" He shot me a panicked look, obviously wondering why I wasn't more upset.

"Oh, aye," said Bofur. "They'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye."

The hobbit paled. He seemed to be having trouble breathing.

Bofur had a wicked glint in his eyes as he rose to his feet. "Think furnace with wings. Flash of light, searing pain, then poof," he made a gesture with his pipe, "you're nothing more but a pile of ash!"

To give Bilbo credit, he seemed to be rapidly recovering from his brief spell of panic. He straightened up, blinked, took a deep breath…and collapsed. It appeared that the little hobbit had finally reached his limit.

"Oh, very helpful, Bofur," Gandalf muttered as we scrambled to our feet.