Okey dokey, firstly thank you to everyone who has reviewed;

Brackenfern: ME TOO DUDE (although I'm not sure if I'll be able to deal with *you know who* dying...)

kittykawaii: Thank you! :) I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update, but hopefully this chapter is worth it!

Minionloverforever: Thank you for your lovely review (And I totally get the Armitage-love. That man will be the death of me one day)

Alesia: As always, your review made me smile, thanks a lot xx

(Also, see if you can spot the Frozen reference in this chapter)

You walked with Gandalf in silence for a time, his long cloak swishing and making quiet noises in the otherwise sparse forest. Your shorter legs had some difficulty in keeping up with the tall wizard, and you soon found yourself out-of-breath, and almost running in order to remain next to him. It was around midday, and the bright sun shone through the canopy of trees above you, patterning the ground with leafy silhouettes and warming your bare shoulders.

Eventually, the quiet became too much for you, and you turned your head to your old friend, having to crick your neck to look him in the eye.

"So what's all this about anyway?" you asked, expecting him to give you an obscure and cryptic answer.

Of course, you were absolutely right.

"All things will be revealed in due time, young one. Do not be impatient, for the answers will be revealed to you shortly."

You sighed audibly and rolled your eyes. It was very hard to get a straight answer out of the wizard and despite the fact that he was one of your closest friends, you couldn't help but feel annoyed with him. He had a habit of skimming over the tops of answers like pebbles skimming a surface of water, occasionally hinting, but never fully giving anything away.

You heard him chuckle at your aggravated sigh, and you couldn't help but smile yourself. You had missed these conversations.

"I suppose you know of the stories of Erebor, (your name)?" asked Gandalf innocently.

"Of course I do!" you replied indignantly, "Every child was told the tales growing up. What has this to do with anything?"

He merely smiled again, and continued walking.

You carried on through the forests for a few hours, occasionally breaking the comfortable silence to talk about the weather, or how each of you had fared for the past few months, but eventually, Gandalf stopped and looked down at you, his blue eyes serious.

Surprised at the sudden movement, you looked around you, and noticed that you were nearing the gates of Bree, a small village, East of the Shire and South of Fornorst Erain.

"You're taking me to BREE?" you asked incredulously at Gandalf, shocked by the normalcy of the situation.

You had assumed that the old man would have taken you somewhere exotic, like the halls of Rivendell, or the dark, uninhabited Mines of Moria to meet his friend, but he had instead led you to a place you had been many times before.

"Yes." he replied, his face grave, "I am meeting my acquaintance at the Prancing Pony."

Well, at least you were certain of getting a good meal there...

"And have you finally decided to reveal the identity of this 'Acquaintance'?" you asked with one eyebrow raised.

Gandalf nodded thoughtfully.

"I think it would be a good idea," he stated, as he walked towards the large, wooden gates.

You followed quickly, your leather boots squelching into the wet mud at your feet. At that point, large droplets of rain begun to fall from the sky, running down the rooves of the houses and into the gutters, and soaking you and your tunic, as well as Gandalf and his thick cloak. Precipitation formed glistening pearls of moisture, lodged in the older man's thick, bushy beard.

You reached the gates, and three hard raps on them called over the gate-keeper, who opened a small wooden flap, about eye-level, to peer at you with beady eyes through.

"Names and business?" he inquired in a thickly accented voice.

You looked up at Gandalf and he smiled at you.

"My name is John Greenwood, and this is my daughter, Evelyn. We are travelling to stay with family."

Your eyebrows raised a bit at the lie, but you kept yourself in check as the man behind the door scrutinised your appearance, and, seemingly contented, unbolted the thick wooden gate and swung it back, allowing you to pass through. Gandalf placed a small coin in the man's hand and thanked him, and you walked off together in search of the Prancing Pony Inn.

As you walked, Gandalf told you the story of his friend in short, to the point sentences.

"Thorin is the son of Thrain, the son of Thror, king under the mountain of Erebor."

"KING?!" you almost yelled in surprise, and Gandalf put his hand to your mouth immediately, blocking any other sounds, and looked around him warily.

The streets were bare. The only movement came from the pattering of water on the already sodden ground, and the occasional scurry of a large rat.

The only ones crazy enough to be out here in this storm were you.

A single old man grumbled as he attempted in vain to sweep the mud off his doorstep.

Well, you and that fine fellow.

"Yes," replied Gandalf, satisfied that nobody could hear your conversation, "Well, I have heard rumours that the great dragon has not been heard of in years. Dwarves from all around Middle Earth are building up confidence to go and claim the mountain as their own. Dwarves are, in essence, greedy creatures, and will stop at nothing to get their hands on some gold."

"And you're deciding to help one?" you asked him.

"Thorin is the direct descendant of the King of Erebor. The only one with a right to enter that mountain is he. I wish to see him restored to his former glory."

You nodded at the explanation, and continued walking. A loud grumble came from your belly, and your face flushed with embarrassment.

"Not far now," chuckled Gandalf, as he inclined his head to a large tavern, golden light spewing from the inside. A creaky sign labelled 'The Prancing Pony' swung in the violent wind outside the doorstep.

Excellent.

You both walked in together, and as soon as you entered, your mouth started watering. The scent of freshly-baked bread spewed from every corner, and the homely warmth and friendly chatter brought an involuntary smile to your face.

Gandalf clapped you on the shoulder, and gentlt pushed you towards a table in a corner, on which sat a man of about fourty, his long, dark hair highlighted with grey strands and his thick beard casting a shadow on his face and giving him a gaunt, tired look. Despite this, he was clothed in robes that screamed of wealth. Thick furs covered his shoulders, and on two of his fingers, he wore large silver rings. You knew instantly that this was Thorin.

"A dwarf..." you whispered. You had heard tales about the dwarves, of course, but had never believed that you would see one in the flesh.

Gandalf smiled a little at your reaction, and led you onwards, towards his table.

The man looked up with eyes full of thunder. Eyes which contained an anger that you had never before seen in a man as young as he, and you shivered.

Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all...

IM SORRY THIS ENDED ON A CLIFFHANGER PLEASE DON'T HATE ME. It's just that I ususally write my chapters about 1000 words long, and this was getting to 1400, and I still hadn't got onto the meeting yet...

In the next chapter, you will meet Thorin, and be introduced to him.

As always, thaks ever so much for reading, and please feel free to review and follow xx