An Old Amulet

Chapter Five

Who's here? I wondered, following the others out into the hallway and towards the front door. Bilbo's home was already at capacity as it was, I hoped dearly that our new arrival wasn't anywhere near as wide as Bombar or I wasn't sure that he'd fit. And yet the door was opened and we peered at the man presented in front of us.

"Gandalf." He greeted, looking rather stern with his black hair. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice." He said as he walked over the threshold. "Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

"Mark?" Bilbo questioned as he squeezed into the entryway behind Dwalin. "There's no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!"

Gandalf seemed to disagree. "There is a mark; I put it there myself."

I'll add defacing private property to Gandalf's resume as well.

And still he continued, gesturing to the hobbit. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

"So." Thorin returned, taking a step towards Bilbo while passing his cloak to Kili. "This is the hobbit. Tell me, Mr Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

"Pardon me?" He questioned in response, and I probably would've done myself.

Thorin had begun circling poor Bilbo like a vulture examining prey. "Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?"

"You never brought up that I wouldn't have to use a sword." I whispered to Kili when he returned. "I'm perfectly able to swing a hammer, just so I have you know."

His eyes widened at me with a smile, but he quickly returned his attention to Bilbo and Thorin.

"Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know." Bilbo boasted proudly. "But I fail to see why that's relevant."

Thorin scoffed a bit at the hobbit's response. "Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

The rest of the dwarves laughed at Thorin's little quip and then followed him into the dining area where I assumed he'd be eaten up the rest of the food we'd saved. I took that opportunity to consult Gandalf.

"Did he mean a burglar in the sense that we'd be trespassing and stealing?" I asked him quietly.

Gandalf nodded. "He did. Does the word have the same meaning in your tongue?"

"Yes, it does." I returned, my demeanor darkening a bit. "But it's making me wonder if joining your quest is such a grand idea if you're going to be doing something so distasteful as burglaring."

The old wizard chuckled a bit at my statement. "They're only retrieving what belongs to them, I assure you."

My face contorted into a frown, but I stayed behind as Gandalf joined the others in the dining hole. I didn't want to rub Mr Thorin the wrong way so I remained with Bilbo, who was pacing the hallway, still mildly distraught from the whole ordeal. Well, I wasn't providing comfort to the man as much as I was listening in on the dwarf's conversation. You can't blame me. I was curious, and hopefully I'd get more of an idea about how this whole expedition would proceed.

As for curious, so was Bilbo.

"What news of the meeting in Ered Luin?" Balin asked their leader as he slurped his soup. "Did they all come?"

Thorin nodded and with a ghost of a smile, he said, "Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms."

The rest of the company cheered quietly for the news, to which I didn't really understand myself. I felt that with the talk of kingdoms and swords that I'd been dropped straight into the Middle Ages. Good thing I knew about the whole washing my hands thing so the plague probably wouldn't be coming my way.

"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" Dwalin asked, pensive and serious. "Is Dain with us?"

Thorin sighed laboriously, setting down his spoon. "They will not come."

All around, faces became downtrodden with disappointment. Whoever this Dain fellow was, they all expected him to come. Or truly wished that he would. I felt for them, the kind creatures. A truly merry bunch and I didn't want to see them as such.

"They say this quest is ours, and ours alone." Thorin finished dramatically.

And as Thorin moved to take a swig from his tankard, Bilbo piped in. "You're going on a quest?"

Gandalf turned to him. "Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light." And while the hobbit went to retrieve a candle, the wizard continued, pulling a folded piece of parchment out of his sleeve. "Far to the east, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peek."

The parchment opened to reveal a map, another thing that looked so familiar to me as I peered over Gandalf's shoulder to get a look at it, but I receded quickly, not wanting to get Thorin's attention before I had a chance to be introduced. But Bilbo suddenly reached his candled hand over the map to provide the light he was asked to bring.

"The Lonely Mountain." Bilbo read aloud, taking his time with each word.

"Aye!" Glóin proclaimed from the table, grabbing everyone's attention. "Óin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time!"

Gandalf snapped his fingers and produced a flame yet again to light his pipe. A neat little trick that was distracting me from the actual conversation that was going on.

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold." Óin explained, his trusty ear trumpet laying on the table. "When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end."

My eyes widened. Did he say beast? I pondered, looking to Gandalf who wasn't paying any attention to me in the slightest. Does he mean beast like the ones that like to eat people? The ones that would very much like our bloody carcasses resting on their backs?

"Uh," Bilbo started, coming in from the other room, "what beast?"

I silently thanked Bilbo for voicing my questions without me having to ask them.

"Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible." Bofur declared rather nonchalantly for the tale he was telling. "Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claw like meathooks, extremely fond of precious metals—"

"Yes, I know what a dragon is." Bilbo interrupted, looking a bit uneasy.

Not that I was paying attention, I was too busy trying to keep upright without getting sick. I shivered, trying to think of other things, not a dragon plying the meat off my bones. Gandalf peered over his shoulder at me, causing me to calm slightly. I assumed it was some sort of magic, but I could never know for sure with it.

"I'm not afraid! I'm up for it!" Ori yelled confidently as he stood up down at the end of the table. "I'll give him a taste of the Dwarfish iron right up his jacksie!"

"Sit down!" Dori commanded, taking his little brother and yanking him back into his seat.

That little outburst made me feel the slightest bit better, knowing that someone so young was so foolishly headstrong and ready for action. Perhaps he was just a tad simple, but he was Ori, and you couldn't help but smile at Ori.

"The task will be difficult enough with an army behind us." Balin stated, looking a bit solemn. "But we number just thirteen. And not thirteen of the best. Or brightest."

The dwarves got into a bit of an uproar upon that statement, claiming that they weren't daft and asking "Who are you calling dim?", but Óin simply wanted to know what it was he was saying. Perhaps he should've had his trumpet in its upright position.

"We may be few in number," Fili started, making his appearance known, "but we're fighters, all of us! To the last dwarf!"

"And you forget, we have a wizard in our company!" Kili continued off of his brother's momentum. "Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!"

The others concurred, and I felt myself experience a light glimmer of hope.

Until Gandalf had to open his mouth.

"Oh, well, now," he stammered, "uh, I-I-I wouldn't say that, I-"

"How many then?" Dori challenged, peering over at the old wizard.

"Uh, what?" Gandalf continued, just as flustered as before.

"Well, how many dragons have you killed?" Dori pressed, wanted an answer above all else.

Unsure of how to respond, Gandalf merely coughed out a bit of smoke, not bothering to answer at all. And in that exact moment, I knew, 100%. Without a doubt in my mind.

We were doomed.

"Go on!" Dori still pestered on. "Give us a number!"

Dori's tone gave way to a slight uproar on part of the rest of the company, causing them to stand and shout at each other, fists raised and threats being thrown. All trying to guess how many dragons their wizard had slain. Which in fact, was probably none.

"Shazara!" Thorin shouted over the crowd, standing to prove a point, and effectively silencing them all and getting them to return to their seats quietly. "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too?" He paused to look at his kin. "Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor!"

Everyone cheered for their leader, voicing their agreement with his statement.

"Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!" Thorin cried, rallying his men.

"You forget, the front gate is sealed." Balin interjected, bringing some reality down upon the dwarves. "There is no way into the mountain."

And yet across from him, Gandalf disagreed. "That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true."

At the last word he spoke, Gandalf produced an ornate key from his sleeve. Quite large, looked to be very important. Much like some of the things I'd seen rummaging through my gran's attic. Of the same design, at least.

Looking to the key in awe, Thorin spoke. "How came you by this?"

"It was given to me by your father," Gandalf explained, "by Thráin, for safekeeping. It is yours now.

The old wizard passed the key onto the dwarf, who looked as if he'd treasure it forever.

"If there is a key," Fili started, "there must be a door!"

I couldn't help but snicker into my sleeve at that. Of course there's a door, you fool.

Gandalf pointed to some writing scribbled at the edge of the map, writing similar to what was carved into my amulet, impossible for me to read. "These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls."

"There's another way in." Kili said, wrapping his arm around his brother.

"Well, if we can find it." Gandalf added, giving that all too useful note of reality. "But dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do nothave the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-earth who can. 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!" Ori said excitedly, having realized that fact himself.

Bilbo made a noise in agreement, peering at the map. "A good one, too. An expert I'd imagine."

"And are you?" Glóin asked, a bit doubtful in his tone.

"Am I what?" Bilbo returned after looking behind him, utterly confused.

"He said he's an expert! Hey, hey!" Óin cheered, clearly having heard the hobbit incorrectly.

The others laughed while Bilbo looked as flustered as he did when the dwarves were pillaging his pantry.

"M-me?" Bilbo asked, pointing to himself. "No, no, no, no, no. I-I'm not a burglar, I've never stolen a thing in my life."

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr Baggins." Balin concurred, still a bit solemn. "He's hardly burglar material."

Dwalin nodded across the table. "Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves."

I felt that that last comment was directed at both Bilbo and myself. And he was right. All of the others agreed with him, describing in just how many ways someone as dainty as the hobbit could meet their demise. Bifur even went so far as to show that he'd been broken in half. All the while, we took no notice to the growing darkness billowing over us, originating from Gandalf.

"Enough!" He shouted, powerful and fear-inducing. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!" Then his voice levelled out, returning to its usual calm nature. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unnoticed by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage."

Sitting back down, he continued.

"You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr 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, including himself."

Thorin didn't look happy with the wizard's choice, but then again, he rarely looked happy. He looked up to Gandalf with scorn.

"You must trust me on this." He assured the dwarf.

Eventually, Thorin replied, "Very well, we will do it your way."

Behind him, Bilbo stuttered, "No, no, no!"

"Give him the contract." The leader instructed Mr Balin.

"Please!" Bilbo pled somewhere in the middle of the others grabble.

Balin stood and handed over what appeared to be the contract. "It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth."

I swallowed back a lump in my throat. Funeral arrangements. A common negotiation when discussing a simple contract I suppose! I thought dryly to myself.

"Funeral arrangements?" Bilbo stammered as Thorin pushed the contract onto him. Unfolding it, Bilbo walked out into the hallway where there was a bit more light, reading it over quietly.

"I cannot guarantee his safety." I heard Thorin whisper to Gandalf.

"Understood." The wizard returned, finding that to be perfectly reasonable.

"Nor will I be responsible for his fate." Thorin finished in a perfectly grim tone.

Gandalf looked to him, nodding. "Agreed."

"Terms: Cash on delivery," Bilbo started to read aloud, "up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any. Seems fair. Ehh, Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to-" he took his time pronouncing: "lacerations… evisceration…" He paused, narrowing his eyes at the parchment. "Incineration?"

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye." Bofur added, smiling.

Bilbo looked around, contemplating his situation before giving a small breathless, "Huh."

"You all right, laddie?" Balin asked, probably well aware that he wasn't.

"Uh, yeah." Bilbo said before leaning over his knees, hands braced against them for support, taking shallow breaths and then standing back up again. "Feel a bit faint."

"Think furnace, with wings!" Bofur continued to add, cheery as a plum.

That, of course, wasn't helping the poor hobbit in the slightest. I had half a mind to lob a bowl at the dwarf's head.

"Air- I-I-I need air." Poor Bilbo stammered, bring his hand to his face.

And Bofur wasn't done, not by a longshot. "Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash!"

"Oh give it a rest, Bofur! Can't you see you're doing the exact opposite of good?" I interjected, trying to put a stop to Bofur's ramblings before he gave the poor thing a heart attack. I was doing pretty well myself, mostly because it hadn't really sank in that I would have a good chance of dying by any of those symptoms listed as well. But I don't think Thorin appreciated me speaking out of turn.

Bilbo made some indecisive noises, inhaling, holding that breath for a moment, exhaling, relaxing, and then with a small, "Nope." He went crashing to the ground.

"Oh, very helpful Bofur." Gandalf chastised, standing and moving towards the poor fellow.

I emerged fully from the kitchen to assess the condition of the poor hobbit, when Thorin's arm stopped me in my tracks.

"Are you this hobbit's wife?" He asked, giving me somewhat of a stern look.

I shook my head quickly. "No sir. I'm a guest, just like yourself."

His blue eyes narrowed at me, looking me up and down quickly. "I heard talk that you'll be accompanying us as well."

Damn. I thought. Gossiping dwarves! "That's the plan. Gandalf wishes me to stay with him for the next few months."

Lord, that man didn't look happy. "We will have a discussion on it later. I do not appreciate the idea of a woman coming along on our journey, but I'll hear the wizard's reasons. And if he sufficiently proves that you will not hinder our quest in any way, I might consider it."

That was a much better reaction than I'd been expecting. Perhaps he truly valued the opinions of Gandalf, perhaps he's wasn't as angry and harsh as he seemed. I doubted the latter to be true. Those blue eyes of his, they were cold. They'd known pain, distrust, betrayal, and would probably do anything to not experience it a second time. Besides, I probably looked about as useful as a wet towel. So perhaps that didn't help my case in the slightest.

Author's Note: Bronwyn'll sit down and have a nice long chat with Thorin and Gandalf next chapter, and some filler, more like. Review please! Review review review! It's right below this! Nice big box! Give me your thoughts and I might shut up! xoxo, Momma Love