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"She has these queer little fits." Gandalf told the dwarves dismissively as Gloin and Nori moved her to a chair by the hearth. "But she's bold as a dragon in a pinch!"

"Indeed?" Thorin scoffed.

"Here now," The wizard stood. "Dori, some of that chamomile if there's any left would be good. Oin, do you have some smelling salts with you?"

"Aye, lad." The older dwarf nodded, getting up from his chair to retrieve them. A few minutes later, Emi was awake again, nursing a hot mug of tea while staring into the fire. The dwarves could not help but notice her jump whenever the fire popped or cracked. After realizing that their host would not be recovering any time soon, the company slowly dispersed in a quiet murmur, conversing with a few of each other in low tones.

"Are you sure you're alright Miss?" Ori's anxious voice said for beside her. Emi looked up in surprise.

"Oh! Yes, yes I'll be fine… just give me a moment." She smiled up at the sweet dwarf who nodded before turning and leaving. Emi sat back into the comfy chair before springing up again at the sound of Gandalf's deep voice.

"You've had quiet long enough of a moment, my dear!" The wizard crossed to look at her wide-eyed face. "You cannot expect these dwarves to wait around forever just for you to make up your mind!"

"Agreed!" Emi frowned back, feeling defensive. "But that doesn't mean that you can just expect me to give up my home and my friends… and my life at the drop of a hat!" Gandalf let out a frustrated sigh before sitting down in an attempt to calm himself. After a moment of silence, the wizard looked back down at the smaller creature.

"My dear, if I had the time to warn you ahead of time, I would…" Emi stared back at him, uncertainty scrawled across her face. "But what's done is done and all that we can focus on is the present." The hobbit's face dropped to stare blatantly into her tea. "I am offering you the opportunity to go on a great adventure. And I am certain that you will never get a chance like this again." Emi continued to stare at the smoke rising from her mug before watery eyes looked up into Gandalf's own gray irises.

"If you climb a mountain you can jump off a cliff." She replied. "That doesn't mean you should." Another silence filled the room. Gandalf took a deep breath before replying.

"But if you never jump, then how will you learn to soar?" A breath hitched in the hobbit's throat as she stared at the old man.

"Gandalf…" her voice came out wearily, as if her entire thought was being put into every word. "I'm a simple person who comes from a simple folk. I live for my bread, my hearth, the flowers in the morning, and the fireflies at night." The wizard frowned as she continued. "I don't need riches, or adventure… definitely not dragons."

"Emilie, my dear lass, it's only after you've seen such great wonders until you can truly appreciate the simple things in life."

"I won't be able to enjoy anything if I'm dead." She smiled. "I don't want to die. I plan to have a long life ahead of me. A quiet, peaceful life, with no wizards or dwarves, and absolutely no adventures."

"Life is a very long thing." The aged man replied, his eyes twinkling with wisdom. "Do you really want to spend the rest of it here? Baking, gardening, blowing smoke rings from the sun's rise, to the moon's?" Emi's smile slowly faded away again. Her eyes were clouded and troubled by these words. The fire crackled next to them and the murmur of dwarves tinted the air. The smell of food and pipe smoke drifted amongst the quiet hum, while Emi's thumbs slid across the smooth ceramic mug again and again.

"I'm sorry Gandalf." She said at last, standing up wearily. "I can't sign this." Gandalf frowned as he watched the hobbit pad away into the depths of the house. Emi did not go straight to her bed, however. After walking about the inhabited rooms vaguely, she finally spotted him. The dwarven leader stood in the shadow of the hall, Balin across from him. They may have been talking once, but they weren't now. Instead, they stood in silence, each in his own thoughts.

Swallowing slightly, Emi walked gingerly over to the two of them, but she addressed only Thorin. He looked up at her approach and waited for her to speak. Under the dwarf's intense gaze, Emi suddenly felt her mouth run dry. There was no anger in his gaze, but there was something that burned constantly in the dwarf lord. An unspoken vow. The hobbit coughed slightly to focus her mind and began.

"Master Oakenshield," she regarded him. "I'd like to apologize for the inconvenience I have caused you. There seems to have been a misunderstanding." He raised an eyebrow. "I am not a burglar. I'm just a woman. And what you need is warriors, heroes… and I am neither of those. I wish you the greatest of luck on your quest. And perhaps, someday, we will meet again. You and your company are welcome to drop by whenever you pass this way." A small, sad smile appeared on her face before she turned and left.

"Well, it appears we have lost our burglar." Balin sighed from Thorin's side, before turning to look at him. "Probably for the best. The odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners… tinkers, toymakers." The old dwarf scoffed. "Hardly the stuff of legend." A smile shone in the younger dwarf's eyes.

"There are a few warriors amongst us." He smiled slightly.

"Old warriors." Balin replied, giving him a look. Thorin gazed at his old friend for a moment before speaking again.

"I would take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills. For when I called upon them, they came. Loyalty. Honor. A willing heart… I can ask no more than that." Balin gazed at the smiling face of his king. A deep sadness lingered there. One that would never have been when they still lived under the mountain.

"You don't have to do this." The old dwarf shook his head. "You have a choice. You've done honorably for our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains, a life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor." The faint traces of smile disappeared from Thorin's face as he held up the ornate, iron key.

"From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me. They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland." The other dwarf fixed the key with a distasteful glare. "There is no choice, Balin. Not for me." Balin looked back up into the eyes of his friend.

"Then we are with you laddie." He nodded. "We will see it done."

Slowly, thirteen dwarves drifted into one of the rooms. Pipe smoke drifted up to the ceiling in a lazy motion as Thorin stood, one arm leaning against the mantle as he stared into the crackling fire. A deep, hypnotic humming built in the dwarves' throats as the flames danced before them.

"Far over, the Misty Mountains cold," The words came from deep within the dwarf king, emotions that only stirred in song.

"To dungeons deep, and caverns old.

We must away, ere break of day,

To find our long forgotten gold." In the back of his mind, Thorin was aware of other voices joining his own as he continued to stare into the tongues of fire.

"The pines were roaring on the height" By now, all thirteen dwarves were singing along in deep tones, the song growing in strength and feeling.

The winds were moaning in the night,

The fire was red, it flaming spread," Emi's head rested against her bedpost. Her limbs and eyes were heavy and tired. Her mind was tired. But something was disturbed deep with in her as the low tones washed over her from somewhere in her little home. A soothing, unsettling feeling that kept her listless eyes from drooping into a bottomless slumber.

"The trees like torches, blazed with light."

Yes, this chapter was on the short side, but the last one was so long!

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