They had been filling up their waterskins at a wide stream when Fili gave a shout.

"What is it, lad?" Balin looked up, twisting the cap of his waterskin back on.

"A girl! There's a human girl floating in the stream!"

Murmurs rose among the company as Fili and Kili ran into the stream, water splashing around them. Gandalf, eyebrows raised, strode over to where the two had grasped a figure between them and were dragging her to the shore as gently as possible.

Bilbo clambered onto the top of a nearby rock to get a better look. His eyes widened. Yes, it was a human girl, most definitely. But she wore the oddest assortment of clothes, and there was a strange contraption on her face, in front of her closed eyes, made out of something black and shiny, and glass. Black hair, thick and long and dark, drifted in the water around her, and her skin – her skin was brown, a sort of warm, chocolatey brown that reminded the hobbit of his stomach.

Fili and Kili managed to haul her up onto the side of the stream.

Bilbo slid down the rock to join the others who had gathered around her – all except, he realised, Gandalf and Thorin, who stood further back, observing.

"What's this funny thing on her face?" Dori was saying, peering at the contraption in front of her eyes. It looked, Bilbo noticed, as if it was made in such a way that there was a piece of glass in front of each eye, and the black parts held it to her ears and face.

"Give her a little space, won't you?" Kili said.

"She's breathing, isn't she?"

"Yes, yes." Fili was glancing around the group. "Should we bring her further up?"

The two youngest dwarfs carried her up nearer towards the edge of the forest, the small clearing before the stream. Gently, Ori leaned forward and somehow removed the strange device from her face, keeping it in his hands so nobody would trample on it.

The ring of dwarfs stared down at her.

"She's kind of pretty," Kili offered, watching as she breathed, eyes still shut.

"I've never seen anyone who looks like her," said Bofur.

Balin frowned, tilted his head. "Exotic," he declared, finally. "That's the word. Exotic. She doesn't look like she's around from these parts at all."

Bilbo didn't say anything, just kept his gaze trained on her, as her eyelids began to flutter.

Light.

Ella could see the light pouring in from beneath her shut eyelids. That was strange. Wrong, somehow. She should be dead, right? Yes. That was right. The motorcyclist. Emma. Her beautiful, lovely Emma.

But then, maybe this was what being dead was like. Light, the sound of birds, the rustle of leaves, the sounds of animals scurrying on the ground.

Animals. Of course there had to be animals.

She felt heavy. She couldn't move her arms and legs properly.

And then she heard the voices.

So very near her.

Her glasses. Her glasses were gone.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open.

The first thing she saw, with her myopic eyesight, was a blurry face, with a huge dark beard, tattoos on his bald head and a scowl on his face.

And he was scowling right at her, fearsomely, eyebrows drawn in, glaring.

Ella did the only thing she could do.

Let out a shriek and a string of swear words that caused the man's eyebrows to shoot up into his forehead.

She tried to scramble away, moving backwards, but her back hit into what felt like a tree. And with her blurry vision, she could see even more people around her – all men, with huge and long beards like the scary dude in front of her.

"Oh god, someone please tell me I'm fucking dreaming," she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut and opening them again to be met with the same ring of blurry, fierce, bearded faces.

"Dwalin, you scared her," said a voice reproachfully, and the scary dude moved aside to let another take his place. But no – this guy looked old, gentle, with a massive white beard and a kind face. "It's okay, lass. No need to scream or to swear. We found you drifting in the water and pulled you out."

"My glasses," Ella managed to say, her voice hoarse, raspy. "My – my glasses…"

She put a hand to her face, her eyes.

Her glasses. Yes. She needed her glasses. They made her sight clearer, would let her see better. Yes. They made her feel secure. She would feel safer if she could see the men around her.

Or, of course, it was a possibility that she could feel even more scared.

But she needed them. Her glasses. Oakley glasses, black with some lime green on the sides. A birthday present for her sixteenth birthday. Had cost her parents nearly six hundred dollars. Something special, they had told her, knowing she had been sick of her old glasses. No more new glasses for the next ten years, her father had told her, jokingly.

"Oh, do you mean these?" an eager voice said, and someone else stumbled forward, holding out something in his large hands. "I'm sorry, I took them off…"

Ella all but snatched them from his hands, shoving them back on her face. She felt her breathing calm down.

Blinking, she looked at the group of people around her.

All men, all bearded, apart from a small man who looked the size of a child. All were dressed in layers of clothing and in what looked like armour, all had weapons strapped onto them. Ella saw knives, daggers, swords, bows and arrows, axes.

She forced herself to slow her breathing.

She drew her attention back to the face nearer to her, the old man with the long white beard, and another face, a younger face, looking at her nervously, his hands outstretched.

"Thank you," she managed to mutter, and the younger one broke into a smile.

And then she realised something else.

That they were all very, very short.

"Who the hell are you people?"

Chuckles to her right – she turned her head, slightly, to see two of the group, looking younger than the rest, grinning. One blond, one dark haired.

"Never heard a girl swear so much before in not even five minutes," the dark-haired one said, grinning at her.

Despite her predicament, Ella knew a cute guy when she saw one.

She desperately fought down the blush that was starting to rise, and dragged her eyes back to the older man before her.

"My name is Balin," he told her, "and all of us here – " he waved a hand " – are dwarfs. Well, apart from Mr Bilbo Baggins, who is a hobbit," the child-sized man gave her a nervous smile and bowed, "and Mr Gandalf, who is a wizard."

Ella just stared at him.

Dwarfs.

Hobbits.

Wizards.

She fought down the scream rising in her throat.