Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. This is Tolkien's world. I'm just living in it.

Through the Inferno

Chapter 5: Possibly Bad Decisions

I swallowed back tears and took a deep breath. Thorin, who was willing to risk everything to reclaim his homeland, who had such honor and courage, was supposed to die. My mother read me The Hobbit when I was very young. Up until that point, death had never touched anyone I cared about. I had cared about Thorin. I wanted him to be King Under the Mountain so badly because he was a hero to me. And then he was gone and I didn't understand why.

How could I watch him die?

Fili, obviously bright and loyal, was supposed to die. Kili, charming and as loyal as anyone, was supposed to die. I remembered the first time I heard about their deaths. I had actually said, "No!" aloud and Mom had paused her reading to ask me what was wrong. It was how they died that affected me the most. They weren't huge characters in the book, but they died heroes as well.

Could I really let them die?

I stood and made my way to the living room. Maybe a change of scenery would help me think. Bilbo passed me and I remembered that he had told Gandalf he wasn't going, as well. He nodded to me and continued down the hall to his room. I paused before continuing on my way.

"It's just as well," I heard Balin say softly. I leaned my head in the direction of the sound without thinking. Years of eavesdropping on whispered conversations had made it a habit. "Maybe we're all doomed anyway. We're hardly fit to attack a dragon." Balin sounded as if they had already been defeated. I remembered that he had been at Erebor when Smaug had first attacked and my heart went out to the old Dwarf.

"There are a few warriors among us," I heard a deep voice protest. Thorin.

"Old warriors," corrected Balin.

"Perhaps we will have a new one soon."

"The lass?" My ears perked up and I leaned a little closer. I heard Thorin hum his confirmation. Balin sighed. "She's said no, Thorin."

"I believe she will join us," said the king. I frowned. Why was he so sure?

"And how do you suppose that?" said Balin. "We all saw her face. She isn't keen on the prospect of aiding us." My face fell. No. That wasn't true. I wanted to help them with all my heart, but how could I?

"She is. She's just… afraid." I decided I didn't like being talked about behind my back. Not one bit.

"Afraid of what?" Balin scoffed. "She's survived death, Thorin, I don't think she has much to fear." That was looking on the bright side.

Afraid of what? I was afraid of dying again because that was hardly a walk in the park. I was afraid of messing everything up. I was afraid I would somehow make the Dwarves hate me. I was afraid I would have to watch them die.

I didn't want them to keep talking about me, but also I didn't want to approach them. Unfortunately, there were only two options before me.

I moved from my hiding spot and walked up to them. They noticed me and turned their heads just a little too quickly, but otherwise gave no indication they had been talking about me. Balin gave me a small smile and Thorin stared at me intensely. Fuck, what was I doing?

"I'll go," I said. Since WHEN? They both looked surprised and almost… relieved.

"Good," he said. "Balin, do you think you could draw up a contract?" The old Dwarf nodded and left to find something to write with, leaving me alone with Thorin. It was a whole new level of awkward for me. I had just eavesdropped on two of my favorite characters talking about me, and now I was alone with one of them, pinned under his scrutiny. Why was he looking at me like that?

"So," I said awkwardly. I made the mistake of looking directly at Thorin's eyes and I forgot everything I was going to say. So this is what it's like to be star struck.

"I am glad you've chosen to accompany us," Thorin said calmly. "Otherwise, things might have been unpleasant between us." Wait, what? Without another word, he brushed past me to join the others in the sitting room. So it seemed Thorin held grudges against strangers who didn't immediately agree to go on quests with him. I shook my head and followed him.

I settled down in a far corner, not wanting to intrude on this moment. The Dwarves began to get out their pipes and light up. I smiled as the air became thick with the smell of the pipe weed. I had been expecting it to smell like cigars, but I didn't gag. It actually smelled really wonderful. I wondered briefly if I would end up stoned. Oh great. Say no to drugs your whole life and end up accidentally high with Dwarves. Of course, because that was a thing that happened to people sometimes.

Then the Dwarves began to hum. The whole room seemed to vibrate with the sounds of their voices. I sat back and allowed the music of the Dwarves fill my mind.

"Far over the Misty Mountains cold," sang Thorin, his eyes icy and bitter. "To dungeons deep, and caverns old. We must away, at break of day, to seek our long forgotten gold."

"The pines were roaring on the height." A few of the Dwarves joined in, standing as they did so. "The winds were moaning, in the night." More joined and stood. It reminded me of when the national anthem was played, but somehow this seemed even more important. It was probably because the Dwarves were singing with real emotion, with reverence for the song. It seemed important because it was important; at least it was to them.

"The fire was red. It, flaming, spread. The trees, like torches, blazed with light." When they had finished, I was filled with sudden relief. I realized that if I had not agreed to go with them before, I would have been on my knees, begging them to let me go with them. Their song moved something in me, and I was shocked to find that it had moved me to tears.

I looked at each Dwarf, seeing determination and a desire for vengeance in all their eyes. Good. I wanted them to have fire in their hearts. I wanted them to be ready to do anything to take back their homeland. Movement in a corner drew my eye and I saw the woman from another world rubbing at her face. Her eyes gleamed in the light of the fire from freshly shed tears.

I wondered at her expression. I had never seen a crying woman with such resolution in her eyes. What had happened to her that caused such a response? She claimed to be quite fond of us, of our unfulfilled story, but I doubted a woman like her would become so emotional because of a simple song. The song meant something to every Dwarf in the room, even those too young to have witnessed the fall of Erebor. What did it mean to Blair?

"Do you sing?" I found myself asking. Her eyes shifted to me and she blinked away the last of her tears.

"Not really," she said.

"What are songs like from your world?" asked Kili.

"Well, it depends," she said thoughtfully. "There are a lot of different types. There's pop, rock, country, jazz. There's a lot."

"You have songs about rocks?" asked Ori.

"No, that's just what that kind of music is called."

"Why's it called that?" wondered Bofur.

"I… I have no idea. I didn't come up with it."

"I think we'd like to hear one of your songs," Fili smirked. I shot my nephew a look of warning. Blair had already expressed that she had no desire to sing and he had no business trying to trap her.

"Well," she said with a slight smile, "stranger things have happened. Maybe you will someday." A clever response. I wondered briefly if she was used to turning down requests, but now was not the time to ask. It was late, and we would start early, whether or not we were well rested.

"Let's turn in for the night," Thorin announced. The Dwarves responded with a series of grunts and nods. They all disappeared down the hall in search of rooms. It wasn't long before there was shouting and the sound of furniture scraping the floor. I could picture Bilbo flinching in his room at the noise. I felt sorry for him, but he would have to get used to it.

I stood and looked around the room for a place to sleep. The chairs were comfortable enough, but I wasn't going to waste my first night in Bag End sleeping on a chair like some bum. No. This called for a couch. I smiled and collapsed onto the cushions. It was the softest thing I had laid down on in four years. In my first apartment, I slept on an air mattress, and then when I moved in with Talia, I was given a rollout cot. I had no right to complain, though. She had been risking a lot by letting me stay in her house, even if it was to pay back a debt. My chest suddenly felt like it was collapsing in on itself. I had forgotten about Talia.

I pushed my worries aside and sat up. Talia was going to be fine. She knew from the start that I was going to end up dead on the streets. That was a possibility for both of us, but I didn't have pimp to protect me, and I was throwing myself into dangerous situations all the time. Talia would get by without me. She always had.

But she would still worry, wouldn't she? We were allies, but we were also friends. I hadn't wanted that to happen. Getting close to people never ended well for me, but it was impossible to not like Talia. She was tough as nails, and she would get through everything on her own, but she was going to worry about me. She was going to worry, and then when I didn't come home, she would know I was gone.

And Aunt Semmi. Oh god, Aunt Semmi. I had lived with her when I was seventeen, after Grandma and my parents were gone. She had tried so hard to make me happy. She'd offered to get me grief counseling. She'd paid for my hapkido lessons. She'd tried so fucking hard, and what did I do once I was eighteen? Move out and call her once a month to let her know I was doing alright. I had told myself that was the way it had to be. I had to keep her at arms length to protect us both. She'd deserved better. And now she didn't even have that. She'd lost her mother, her brother, her sister in law, her niece. Could she handle another death?

What about Sean? Tyrell? Smitty? Lisa? My taxi drivers. We weren't close, not really, but they could have turned me in at any time. They'd figured me out quickly enough, but they just kept helping me, kept making small talk with euphemisms that made me smile. They would wonder what had happened to me.

Fuck, I'd left more behind than I'd realized. And I'd forgotten all about them. All I'd thought of was how awesome it was to be in Middle Earth. I had given more consideration for fictional characters than the people who had actually been a part of my life, who had been there for me when I needed them. What did that say about me?

My jaw clenched as my eyes shut. My hands became fists and every muscle in my body was tensed. I had to focus. I had to be calm. I breathed deep, even breaths. Master Ahn told us to visualize good energy entering us and bad energy leaving. I was never good at the spiritual aspects of martial arts, and I got in trouble a few times with the instructors for it, but just breathing helped. Breathing. A simple task that allowed me to survive. A basic function that was neither bad nor good. For a moment, all that existed was my breathing. I wasn't dead or alive, happy or sad. I just breathed.

The tension left my body slowly and I opened my eyes. I was still there. Still in Bag End. This was still happening to me. I was going to go to sleep and go on a truly unexpected journey tomorrow.

I didn't have any supplies. I stood and looked around the room, searching for… I didn't know what. I needed a bag, and anything I could carry. Bilbo had backpacks. Where would he keep them? An image of a chest by the front door flashed through my mind and I made my way to the entrance hall. There were walking sticks mounted on the wall behind a wooden chest. This had to be it.

I paused a moment. I didn't want to steal from Bilbo, but what choice did I have? Besides, he wouldn't miss one backpack. I crouched down and undid the latch. Inside were several bags, sleeping bags, and a few picnic baskets. I picked out a dark green backpack and sleeping bag before shutting the lid. I tossed the bags carelessly on the sofa and thought a moment. What else did I need?

I packed a few apples, what appeared to be jerky of some kind, a bar of soap, and a handful of handkerchiefs I found in a drawer. I smiled when I saw them. Bilbo wouldn't have to wipe his nose of Bofur's shirt now. I pulled the bag off of the sofa and let it fall to the ground, but it hit my leg on the way down. The sound of an apple smooshing against something hard drew my eyes and I saw it. The weapons trapped to my thigh.

My gun.

I fell to the couch and covered my face with my hands. I brought a gun to Middle Earth. There were rules about that kind of thing on the street. No guns at knife fights, and vice versa, but one was about stupidity and the other was about honor. I had always preferred throwing knives. They were quieter and reusable, but I always kept a gun on me, just in case. But now I was in a place where guns didn't exist. Guns had no place in Middle Earth, and neither did I.

What if it fell into the wrong hands? All hands were the wrong hands. I shouldn't even have the damn thing. I rubbed my eyes and let my hands fall into my lap.

What if the Dwarves saw it and started reproducing it? What if the Elves saw it and made guns? What if Gandalf saw it and somehow it got back to Saruman and then he would mass produce enchanted guns and then distributed them to his Uruk army? Wow, I had massively fucked up.

I lay down and curled into a ball. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe there would be no problem. I just wouldn't use the gun. I would pretend it wasn't there and no one would notice. I shut my eyes and took deep breaths again.

Everything was going to be alright.

...

I woke up slowly. At first, I just turned over and tried to go back to sleep. Then I wondered why I was sleeping on a couch, and I remembered I was in Bag End. I sat up quickly and looked around. I had never dreamt about falling asleep and waking up. It wasn't a dream. I had died and gone to Middle Earth. I rubbed my eyes and stretched. The fire had gone out sometime in the night and all that was left were some smoldering embers and a little warmth. I realized how dark it was and silently walked over to the window. It was pitch black outside.

"It's always darkest before the dawn," I said. Stupid saying. It's true in the literal sense, but every time I had ever heard it, it was meant to encourage me. After everything I loved died, it was always it's darkest before the dawn, or it will get better. No. Then again, I had died and gone to Middle Earth. That was something good followed by tragedy, I guess.

"Yes, it is." I turned and saw Balin staring at the window with a smile on his face. "Let's hope the others wake up soon. Thorin won't be pleased if they're sleeping at day break." I followed the eldest Dwarf into the kitchen and found that he had already made some tea and laid out biscuits with cold ham. He poured two cups and handed one of them to me.

"Thank you," I said and took a sip. It was damn good tea, and I didn't know if I should compliment Balin or Bilbo. So instead, I asked him, "So… early riser?"

"Yes. Ever since I was a lad," he answered after he swallowed a mouthful of biscuit. "Much to my brother's displeasure." I smiled.

"Yeah, Dwalin doesn't strike me as much of a morning person."

"Well, it depends on how well he sleeps." Balin shrugged. "I made sure that he had a good pillow, so he should be fairly reasonable today." I nodded and helped myself to a biscuit and ham. I wondered what the food would be like on the journey. In the books and movies, it seemed like stew or jerky and some kind of hard bread was the norm. I savored the buttery biscuit, knowing that until we got to Rivendell I probably wouldn't have a real meal again.

"Should we get the others up?" I asked Balin. He shook his head quickly.

"Trust me, lass," he said gravely, "you do not want to ever wake up a Dwarf warrior. It may be the last thing you ever do." I nodded, understanding perfectly. Talia's roommate Casey made the mistake of trying to wake me up one morning, and I nearly slit her throat. I gritted my teeth and gulped down more tea. I didn't want to think of Talia or anyone else. Instead, I tried to think of a way to wake them all up without getting near them. What gets me up in the morning? The answer was almost painfully obvious.

"I've got an idea," I said and stood. I dug around the kitchen, looking for the biggest pan I could find. I set it on the stove and got a fire going. I was usually useless in the kitchen without help, but I knew how to make one thing better than anyone else. I hurried to the pantry and found what I was searching for. The siren call of breakfast foods: bacon. Balin chuckled when he saw the pile of meat in my hands.

"That'll get them up, alright," he said. I laid the bacon on the pan, and oh my goodness, the sound of bacon. I smiled as the smell filled the air. Balin breathed deeply and I knew it would be a matter of minutes before the first Dwarf came running.

I splashed some cool water on my face and took a deep breath. Today was the day, the beginning of our journey. I had rested peacefully and woken up long before daylight. My spirits were high as I remembered what I had overheard the night before. Our quest was destined to succeed. We would reclaim Erebor, our home. Still, members of our company were destined to die. Fortunately, Blair had agreed to join us on the journey. I was sure that she would at the very least try to change what had been written.

I left the small washroom and dressed myself before heading to the kitchen. Balin was likely up already with some food prepared. After Bombur woke, he would likely create a spread to rival the feast last night. As I approached the kitchen, a mouth-watering smell reached me. I walked faster and heard the familiar sizzle of bacon.

A strange sight was before me as I entered the room. Balin was seated at the table, a cup of tea before him and a smile on his face. That was normal enough. The strange sight was Blair leaning over the stove, smelling the bacon that she was preparing. It was so normal that it was odd. Blair heard me enter and turned her eyes away from her cooking a moment.

"Morning," she said. "Nothing like waking up to bacon after dying and landing in another world." I smirked at her sarcastic tone, but there really could not be anything that matched up to her situation. It was so strange to see her simply cooking breakfast, like any other being in Middle Earth.

"Morning," said Balin as I sat at the head of the table. He poured me a cup of tea and I accepted it with a nod. "Sleep well?"

"Mm," I said as I drank the tea. I heard a few groans from the hall and knew that the Dwarves were waking to the smell of the bacon. I wondered if Blair had prepared the dish partially for that purpose. Bombur came stumbling in loudly, half asleep with his nose in the air.

"Bacon," he moaned and I rolled my eyes. Bofur followed after him, and then Dwalin.

"So the lass does womanly things," grumbled Dwalin. Blair shot him a look that would have made him cower if he had his eyes open.

"Pretty sure that cooking is in neutral territory," she growled. Dwalin mumbled something and she glared at him again.

"I'd agree with the lass," supported Bombur, and the elder Dwarf rolled his eyes. Blair turned away and focused on her cooking again.

"Of course, bacon is rather womanly," she said thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should just drop it in the fire, since you deserve much manlier food." Dwalin stood up and seemed ready to start yelling before I coughed. He glanced at me and slowly sat back down, his eyes on Blair's back. She turned around and smiled wickedly. "I'm kidding."

"Best not to joke about a Dwarf's bacon, lass," warned Balin.

"Best not to label the lass and say she has to conform to a certain standard in order to be deemed acceptable," she retorted, and then so softly I almost didn't hear, "or else this lass is gonna shove a knife up your ass." I snorted and realized I was the only one who had been able to hear her. While the Dwarves stared at me with confusion, Blair glanced over her shoulder and smiled at me. I should not have encouraged her to use such language, but I couldn't bring myself to scold her.

Oin and Gloin stumbled in, followed by Dori and Nori. Ori came crawling in a few moments later, just as Blair piled the bacon on a large plate and set it in front of the Dwarves. If it was not the morning and they knew they would be treated to bacon again the next day, I would have been able to help myself to the food first, as king. As those were not the circumstances, the plate was instantly covered with grasping hands and I waited. Movement caught my eye and I found a small hand setting a plate of bacon in front of me. I looked up and saw strange knowing eyes staring back at me. I nodded my thanks and began to devour the bacon. By Durin, it was heavenly.

Good lord, could those Dwarves eat. I sat back and watched as only a few of them showed mild restraint in the face of the breakfast god. I nibbled at my one piece, knowing that I wouldn't get any for a very, very long time. Elves didn't serve bacon, I was sure, and after Rivendell, there was no chance until Laketown. I finished off my little slice of heaven and sucked the grease off of my fingers. The Dwarves were shoveling the bacon down their throats, all except Balin and Thorin. Balin glanced over at me and noticed my lack of food. He smiled sadly at me and held out a piece. As I reached for it, a fat hand found its way around the eldest Dwarf and stole the bacon. I watched sadly as Bombur ate my piece of bacon. Balin sighed and left the room. I was about to follow when a little plate was shoved in front of me with three pieces of bacon on it. I looked up from it and saw Thorin standing next to me, an almost smile on his face.

"Thank you," he said.

"No problem," I said and took the plate. I hurried out of the room after Balin, biting greedily into a juicy bit of bacon. Fili and Kili wandered in, yawning.

"We smell bacon!" announced the blonde, and Kili nodded his agreement as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"You're a bit late, lads," said Balin.

"It's all gone by now," agreed Thorin. Fili and Kili looked from their uncle to Balin and back, looks of misery on their faces. I looked down at my plate of bacon. Two pieces left. NO. I almost groaned out loud. ABSOLUTELY NOT. I found myself walking forwards. DON'T DO IT. I held out the plate to the brothers and they looked up at me in awe. Slowly, reverently, they picked up the pieces of bacon. I watched as they slowly devoured the bacon. My bacon. YOU'RE STUPID. HAS ANYONE EVER TOLD YOU THAT BEFORE? YOU'RE A CLASS-A MORON.

"Thank you," they said in unison. I grunted an acknowledgement and moved away from them, part of me wanting to reach down their throats and get my bacon back. I made my way over to Balin and the old Dwarf clapped me on the shoulder to reassure me that I had done the right thing.

"Have you drawn up her contract?" asked Thorin. I realized I hadn't signed it yet and turned to Balin, who nodded.

"I think this just about covers it all," said Balin and he retrieved a piece of parchment from a nearby table. He handed it to me and I looked over the contract. It was very straightforward, thankfully, and I was able to read over it quickly. It basically said that I would go on the journey with them until we found the person from another world and if I wanted to stay there I could, but I could also join them on the final trek to Erebor. Then I'd get one fifteenth of the treasure, but if I stayed in Mirkwood they'd just reimburse me if they could. They weren't responsible for any lacerations, eviscerations, incineration, death, etcetera. I nodded and held my hand out for a writing utensil. I was handed a quill pen, which I gave a look before scribbling down my name. Thorin came up behind me and took the quill before signing it as well, and Balin followed after as a witness.

"It's settled then," said Balin with a smile. "Welcome to the company of Thorin Oakenshield, Blair… uh… Yoon?" He peered down at the contract and read my last name curiously. I nodded to let him know he had pronounced it correctly.

"What's the meaning of your name?" asked Fili as he licked his lips.

"What?" I asked, confused, and mildly distracted by the Dwarf prince sucking the grease off his thumb.

"Your last name," clarified Kili. "Our uncle's surname allows others to know that he is the one who wielded the oaken branch. What does your name mean?"

"Uh… it's just my family's name. It means I'm a part of it."

"Well, what does their name mean?" asked Balin.

"Grandma, I hate being Korean." Grandma looked at me like she was going to slap my mouth, like when I said bad words. She grabbed my arm and pulled me close, her face all near my face. I started to cry.

"Don't you ever say that, Blair," she ordered. "Do not say that again." I wiped my face and glared at her. She was being so mean, but she didn't understand.

"They all make fun of me," I cried. "All the kids at school pull on their eyes and laugh and they call me Ching Chong and Chinese. One of the boys called me… I think it's another bad word, Grandma, because the teacher yelled at him, but it's because I'm Korean. I hate having stupid eyes and a stupid last name!" Grandma's eyes got all sad for a second and I felt bad for it. Then she looked angry. I was scared. Grandma was scary when she was angry.

"You listen to me, Blair Yoon," she said and made sure I was looking in her eyes. "Don't ever hate yourself because of the way those fools treat you. Do you think your mother is ugly?" I shook my head. "Then why should they mock eyes that are so like hers? Are you Chinese?" I smiled and shook my head. "Then they're idiots. This boy used a bad word?" I nodded. "He got in trouble because he was wrong to do that. These children are wrong, and their parents who taught them to hate are wrong, not you. You are not the problem." I sniffled and Grandma gave me a tissue. She didn't like me to wipe my nose on my sleeve.

Maybe being Korean wasn't so bad. Maybe it was a good thing. Mommy was Korean and she was the prettiest woman ever. Grandma was Korean and she always knew what to say. Daddy was Korean and he was a nice person. My whole family was Korean, and they were all fun people and I loved them.

"Grandma?"

"Yes, love?"

"What does 'Yoon' mean?"

"The eldest," I said softly. "Or something like that. It's a Korean name."

"Is yours the oldest family on Earth, then?" Balin asked and I shrugged.

"It's possible, I guess," I said.

"It must have been very powerful." I laughed and shook my head.

"Sometimes. My grandmother liked to mention the fact that several women from her clan were queens."

"You're royalty?" asked Thorin. I shook my head.

"There's no royalty in America. That's where I was born, but my grandparents were from Korea. Despite their heritage, they weren't royalty at all." I smiled. Grandma was always going on about how she came to this country with only her papers, some rice, and a hunk on her arm. Em loved that story, even if it was slightly embellished.

"How did they fall out of power?" asked Kili.

"I don't know," I said with a shrug. Things seemed to have taken an awkward turn, so I handed Balin the contract and retreated from the room. I stepped outside and looked out across Hobbiton. I would never get used to being here, in Middle Earth. It was simply too beautiful. The sky was just beginning to turn grey and the shapes of the hills were starting to form out of the darkness. I wanted to stay there and greet the sunrise, but I knew that was impossible. No doubt Thorin would have us going before the sun had a chance to peak over the horizon.

My mouth feels weird… Oh, I didn't brush my… how am I supposed to brush me teeth in Middle Earth? Shit, everything's different now. No more toothpaste. No more showers. NO MORE SHOWERS. Okay, focus. You can survive a sword fight with Thorin Oakenshield. You can survive a few months without your normal hygiene routine. Wow... I can use that. I can say I dueled Thorin Oakenshield...

But I really, really wanted to brush my teeth. I looked around at the Dwarves and most of them were stuffing food in their mouths as well as their pockets. I figured I'd just eat an apple to freshen my breath. I retrieved my bag and took out the apple that my gun had dented last night. I bit into the juicy flesh and let the taste chase away thoughts of forbidden weapons. I headed outside and tossed the core into the grass.

Thorin, Balin, Bifur, and Bofur were outside with their ponies. When I saw the animals, I stopped short. Bofur looked over at me and no doubt saw my apprehension plainly on my face.

"Ever ridden before, lass?" he asked. I shook my head. "Well, it ain't that tough, really. Come on over and we'll give you a few pointers." I slowly walked over and Bifur lead a little grey pony up to me, mumbling in Khuzdul.

"He says her name's Myrtle," translated Bofur. I almost blurted out, "I know," but somehow managed to hold my tongue. I didn't want the Dwarves to know I was in on their private language. That would raise too many questions, and Dwarves were more protective over their ancient words than they were over their gold. I looked at the pony and bit my lip. I almost wanted to pull a Bilbo and say I could keep up on my legs. I probably could have, too. I could run through New York easily enough; meandering through Middle Earth couldn't be much worse. But I didn't want to wimp out. It was just a pony.

"Okay," I said. "So how do I mount her?" Way to word that awkwardly.

"Get on this side of her," said Bofur and I moved to where he was. "Now take the reins in your left hand and grab at the bit of mane right here." He pointed to the base of the mane and I obeyed.

"Hold the right side of the rein a wee bit tighter than the left," instructed Balin. "That should keep her in place." I gripped at the reins a little more and nodded my head.

"Alright, lass, now get your left foot in the stirrup here," said Bofur and I slowly moved my foot where he directed it. Bifur gave me advice in Khuzdul and I tried very hard to keep myself from obeying him immediately. Instead I looked expectantly to his brother, waiting for him to translate.

"He said to turn your foot to the left and face forwards a wee bit so's you don't poke the horse with your toes," clarified Bofur. I nodded and followed the instructions. "Right, so you've got your right hand where it needs to be already, on the back of the saddle. Now don't use your arms to push yourself. Use your leg."

"You could do a few small jumps to get yourself going," added Balin.

"And once you're up there, move your right hand out of the way, and be sure to lift your right leg high enough so's you don't kick Myrtle. She won't be too pleased with you if you do. Right, now you think you've got it?"

"Maybe," I said.

"Give it a go, lass," encouraged Balin. I sighed and relaxed myself. I can do this. It's just a little pony. My little pony, my little pony, you'll always be… I'm going to punch myself in the face. I bounced on my right leg a few times before pushing myself up. I swung my right leg and moved my right hand before settling into the saddle. It wasn't that bad.

"Good job, lass!" cried Bofur as he clapped his hands. Balin chuckled and Bifur mumbled something about his brother being a great teacher. Bofur was so enthusiastic it was just adorable. I grinned and gripped the reins.

"I've got to say, brother," said Kili's voice, speaking in Khuzdul, "That was quite a sight."

"Indeed," said Fili proudly, and I looked up to see them watching me. I tried to keep a blank expression. "I can hardly wait to see it again." I tried not to roll my eyes. These idiots thought a girl getting on a horse was hot? They'd probably cum in their pants if they ever saw a bathing pool back on Earth. Still, it was kind of hilarious. Maybe later I'd flash an ankle and watch them faint.

"Please keep your thoughts to yourselves, lads," Balin groaned. "Most of us still know what you're saying."

"You've heard us say worse," protested Fili.

"But the woman in question was not named nor in our company at the time," said Thorin sternly, as if that made it better. "Show some kind of decency."

"She doesn't know what we're saying," huffed Kili.

"That makes it even worse," growled Thorin and he turned away from his nephews to mount his pony. Fili and Kili gave each other a look and I knew that they weren't planning on obeying him. I leaned over to Balin.

"Am I allowed to know?" I asked innocently. Color rose in his face and he shook his head wearily.

"I don't think you would want to," he said and I nodded. Some day, they would pay for being so pervy, but for now I would settle on making it awkward for everyone else and watching them get yelled at.

Finally, everyone was outside and on a pony. Gandalf had appeared and I wondered how long he had been there. He was riding a full sized horse, and I felt very small knowing I was sitting on a pony. The sky was turning blue and I could see bits of light starting to creep over the hills. Hobbiton was breathtaking at sunrise. I wanted to stay there and enjoy the simple beauty, but an order from Thorin had everyone moving. I found myself at the back of the line, near Ori and Nori. Nori was arguing with Dori about something, and Ori didn't seem to keen on talking to a girl. He'd probably never seen one before, or at least he hadn't known it was a female. When Aragorn said it was the beards that threw people off, he wasn't kidding.

We passed through the Shire far too quickly. I found myself looking over my shoulder, trying to commit the place to memory. New York had its own beauty to it, but the Shire was pure, something my city could never have even dreamt of being.

We entered a wooded area and I smiled to myself. No doubt, Bilbo was already up and running to catch up. The sun was out and the woods were alive with the sounds of birds, horses, and Dwarves. I barely kept myself from squealing, because I was really there. I really was. I was there, in the Shire, on a quest to regain the Lonely Mountain.

"WAIT! WAIT!" Everyone turned and I saw Bilbo Baggins running up the path with the contract waving in his hand. He looked at me and I grinned at him. I felt like I might even tear up at the look on his face, he was so excited. "I signed it," he sighed and handed the contract to Balin. Bilbo glanced at Gandalf, who gave him a small smile, but then he looked back at me. I smiled widely, and he nodded, as if he had been looking for my approval.

"Everything appears to be in order," announced Balin as he folded up the contract. "Welcome to the company of Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins."

"Get him a pony," ordered Thorin.

"Oh that's really unnecessary," Bilbo said quickly. "I could walk, really, I-"

"You can ride with me, Mr. Baggins," I said and moved Myrtle up to him. Bilbo looked nervous as I held my hand out to help him up. I smiled at him again, trying to calm him. "Hey, I've never ridden before either. It's really not that bad, and Myrtle here is a sweetheart." Bilbo nodded and we managed to get him onto the pony without much trouble.

I grinned and hid my smile behind Bilbo's head. I was in Middle Earth. I was riding a pony with Bilbo Baggins. I was in the company of Thorin Oakenshield. The sun was out and the entire world was beautiful.

Not bad for a first day.

A/N: Ay, we finally left Bag End! If there was another category available for each fanfiction, I would have labeled this as an angst fic, good gracious. So much angst.

I apologize to all vegetarians/vegans for this chapter.

Avalanet: :)

echoi5004: You just gave me an infinite supply of happiness. This is exactly why I chose to write Blair as I did. I respect you greatly as well, and I hope if I ever write something stupid in regards to Korean culture (because I'm relying entirely on Google and that's not entirely accurate), please let me know! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. There is definitely more Blair/Thorin to come!