{AN: Thank-you to all those who have already favourite and began following this story. It means a great deal, I assure you. I'm assuming that means that you enjoyed the first chapter?

Also, a big thank-you to Hakoiri for reviewing the first chapter.

On we go, I suppose. Reviews and such are always welcome.

Thanks. :D

The Company on An Elf.

Once again, the Hobbit Hole was quiet, and the company had moved themselves back into the small dining room. Ulren found herself sat on a stool in the corner of the room, still a little uncomfortable around Gandalf's group of Dwarves. There were some, the younger ones mainly; Ori particularly, who did not seem to mind her company. Or could at least tolerate it. It was Thorin and the elders who put her seemingly on edge, and so, she kept away, kept quiet.

It was Dwalin, who broke the silence, asking with something in his eye. Worry? Perhaps something akin to want?

"Will they come?" The question was directed to Thorin, who now sat with a bowl of stew.

Thorin sighed, shoulders falling for a mere moment before the familiar stern gaze returned to his eye, "The Dwarves of the Ironhills will not come."

It was then that Ulren felt a sting, perhaps of sadness, most likely of pity, toward the group she found herself amongst. There they were, thirteen of the bravest Dwarves that Thorin could have mustered, left to take this quest alone. With only and Elf, a Wizard, and perhaps a Hobbit to help. Ulren licked her lower lip, turning her gaze to the floor—their Kin would not help, it must have been quite difficult to understand for them. It may have been a lost cause.

With murmurs of anticipation and worry rising throughout the room from his company, Thorin tensed, breathing becoming a little heavier for a moment before he slammed his spoon against the table, rising slightly in his seat.

"Enough. If we have read the signs correctly, which we have- then this is our time to act. The Beast has not been seen for sixty years, and now all eyes have turned to The Lonely Mountain. Seeking and evaluating the risk and the reward. We will take this chance, and we will take back Erebor!"

There was a loud sound of agreement, encouraged roars and the shaking of fists followed, cheers and shouts. Ulren could not help but allow a smile to curve her lips. As much as she may have learned to dislike the race, she would not deny that they were a hardy folk. And brave, too. Though, she would not go particularly as far as saying heroic. Her pride would not allow so. After a moment or two, a voice that had not been heard for a large amount of time perked up. Bilbo, who had overheard the small speech, had stepped across the threshold and into the room.

"Beast? What Beast?"

Bofur was more than happy to offer his reply—

"Oh, now that would be a reference to Smaug the terrible." Ulren furrowed her brow briefly. Would such a nickname truly seduce the Hobbit into suddenly agreeing to be part of their company? She thought not. Still Bofur continued, "A fire breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks. Extremely fond of precious meta—"

"I know what a Dragon is." Bilbo took a step or two back, evident worry growing in his gaze. Bofur, however, seemingly did not notice the worry.

"I'm not afraid!" The shout came from the corner, from the youngest of the Dwarves, Ori, "I'm up for it! I will give him a taste of Dwarvish Iron right up his jacksy!"

A small chuckle left the Elf's lips then, and Gandalf turned, with a slightly narrowed gaze. The Dwarves however, seemed not to notice her. She licked her lips, unsure of as to what to do under the Wizard's plain gaze.

"Goheno nin." The young Elf apologised quietly before Gandalf's gaze turned somewhat passive. He gestured for her to move toward them, pulling a map onto the table and laying it flat.

Perhaps a little reluctantly, Ulren moved to the other side of Thorin, though he seemed not to notice. Too interested in the map, apparently.

"Here lies the single solitary peak," Gandalf gestured to it with a small tap of his finger, "Erebor."

There was a feeling in the air, an apprehension that seemed to emanate from the Dwarves. Some had risen slightly in their seats, eager to see their path inked on the map. Some still sat, but still they were tense, evidently in deep thought. Ulren studied their faces for a moment or two, their expressions varied. Some –the younger ones- looked filled with excitement and apprehension, though fear dwelled in their gazes also, the Elders looked simply thoughtful. It was Balin who spoke next, and Ulren turned her gaze back to the table.

"But, there is no way into the Mountain, the gate has been sealed."

Gandalf fumbled a little against the wall of the small room as he seemingly searched for a pocket or pouch of some sort amongst his grey robe. Upon apparently finding it, he pulled something out.

"That, dear Balin, is not entirely true."

An intricately designed key now sat in his palm, and the Elf leaned forward just a little, examining it with eager interest. Thorin, also, seemed utterly perplexed, and his voice was quiet, but stern when he asked—

"How did you come by this?"

"Your Father left it in my keeping, to give to you."

All watched in silence as the old Wizard twisted it in his grip.

"…If there is a key, then there must be a door." One began.

"And if there is a door, then there must be a way in."

All remained quiet, as though absorbing the new turn of events. Gandalf had done them well indeed, it seemed.

"If we do get in," Gloin began, "Then, what will we do about the Beast?"

"That is where Mr. Baggins will come in. Hobbits may go unseen and unheard when they want to. Now, Smaug will be used to the scent of a Dwarf."

Ulren stood a little straighter, still resting one palm on the wood of the table.

"But, the scent of a Hobbit may be entirely unknown to him…"

Gandalf nodded once, and then all eyes turned to the Hobbit. Bilbo looked back, eyes wide in realisation.

"Wait!"

"He's no good as a Burglar." One Dwarf exclaimed, "He is fat and soft, he cares too much for his dishes and crocheting!"

Balin sat back, a frown forming in disappointment.

"This task would be difficult—even with an Army behind us. But, we are only thirteen."

"We may be few in number," Kili resting his fist harshly against the table with a determined look in his eye, "But we are fighters. All of us!"

"—And, do not forget. We have a wizard in our company! Gandalf must have killed hundreds of Dragons in his time!"

The Elf stepped back, raising her brows with a quiet exasperated exclamation.

"'Ai…" She turned and moved back to her seat with a short sigh. This would perhaps be a long night.

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"A Elbereth Gilthoniel, silivren penna miriel,

O menel aglar elenath, na-chaered palan diriel…"

She sang quietly to herself as the company rode up a slight incline. The settings around Hobbiton were quiet lovely, to say the least. Greenery seemed to be everywhere, whether wandering through farm property, through wooded clusters or simply following the road. It was calming, and pleasing to the eye- Comfortable. Though, she doubted that it would be so for the rest of the group. They had not yet seen even such a thing as rocky outcrop; the Dwarves would surely be missing what they were used to.

A sound made her sit a little straighter in her saddle, a sound coming toward them. Too quiet for the others to hear. Ulren turned slightly in her saddle, glancing over her shoulder, past the few heads of the Dwarves behind her, and back toward a field that they had crossed through. What she saw made her smile, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips as she turned back to face forward, shaking her head. She waited.

As expected, a minute or so later, a call sounded from behind the company. They halted, and turned to see their Burglar running toward them. Bilbo fumbled with something in his hand, it fluttered behind him. The contract.

"I signed it." He stood nearby then, a little out of breath and red in the face. He handed the newly finished contract to Balin, who took it in one hand and took time to examine it. At that moment, the Hobbit caught Ulren's eye with his own. She smiled warmly, and bowed her head a little in some form of greeting, before taking a breath and looking toward Thorin. He had turned also, yet still had a hard gaze. He looked toward the Elf for a moment or two, and she quirked a brow—he had not believed the Hobbit to be coming, in fact, he'd all but dismissed Bilbo entirely, and now he had been proven wrong. He scowled at her and turned his pony back up the path, calling behind him for someone to give Bilbo a Pony of his own.

"Oh, that really will not be necessary. I can keep up fine on foot!" Bilbo called back, flustered, "I have done my fair share of walking holid—"

A yelp could be heard as he was plucked from the ground and deposited on a steed of his own. For a moment, he simply sat, evidently unsure and a little nervous. However, soon he moved to walk instep between Gandalf and Ulren. The company soon quickened their pace, apparently eager to get moving.

"O, galadhremmin ennorath, nef aeir sì aearon,

Fanuilos, le linnathon, nef aeir sì aearon…"

{AN: Thanks for reading, hopefully after a little more time, there will be more of Ulren. That is the idea, after all.

Lyric translation:

'O Star-queen Star-kindler,
Glimmering white, sparkling like jewels
the glory of the heavens slides down from the firmament.
Having gazed afar at the distance

from tree-tangled lands of Middle-earth
on this side of the ocean, here, great ocean
Fanuilos, I will sing to you
On this side of the ocean, here, great ocean!'