Oooh golly it has been far far too long since I have posted a chapter you have my sincerest apologies.
Thanks to everyone for reviewing/following xx
"Bloody wizard," you mumbled to yourself as you pulled your fur hood tighter around your head, thick, fat raindrops smashing into your face and soaking your already damp hair. You stomped on, angrily, your rough leather boots splashing up tsunami tides of muddy rainwater with each heavy step.
The waning light was already fading fast, and you were only just reaching the outskirts of Hobbiton. Typical. You were going to be late, as usual.
Gandalf has given you strict instructions to meet at the house of a Mr. Bilbo Baggins at sundown on this very day, but you had got caught up in the forest, and were running a bit late.
Well, you say you got 'caught up'. Really, you had wasted about two hours tracking a large deer through the underbrush. Even with the promise of a hobbit-feast on the horizon, you weren't ready to let a possible meal go to waste.
The deer, of course, had not been caught, and eventually, you had given up and decided to get going. If there was one thing that you loved about hobbits, it was their constant never ending supply of food.
A loud boom came from overhead, and you stretched your neck to look above you. A sharp, fast lightning bolt lit up the clouds above your head, brightening the gloomy sky for a short moment, before it faded back into blackness.
"A thunderstorm..." you grumbled, "Perfect..."
Putting one foot in front of another, you continued to walk on, nearing the warm, cozy-looking hobbit holes. Yellow light shone out from their round windows, and the sound of joyous music came from one or two houses around you.
"Baggins...Baggins..." you muttered, looking around for the 'symbol' that Gandalf had assured you he had carved into the door.
The wizard's instructions had not been very clear. You were to find the home of Bilbo Baggins. It was somewhere in The Shire. Rubbing your hands together in an attempt to regain circulation, you decided to stop off and ask a local if they knew of Mr Baggins, or at least, where he resided.
Grumbling to yourself, interaction with people wasn't your strong point, you walked up the pathway of one of the houses, took a deep breath, and rapped on the door.
"Who can be calling at this ungodly hour?" came an angry mutter from inside, as a pair of keys jangled and the brightly painted blue door swung open to reveal a small, portly hobbit-lady, with brown ringlets in her hair, and a floral-patterned dress.
Her eyes widened as she took you in, and you assumed that you were quite a sight. Decked head-to-toe in black, apart from your soft brown leather boots, and the fox fur lining your hood, raindrops falling like a waterfall from your nose and chin, you weren't surprised that the little lady clutched her hand to her heart in fear and whispered, "Oh deary me..."
"Hello," you introduced yourself politely, holding out your shivering hand to the hobbit, trying to make a good first impression.
The smaller woman shook it apprehensively, the heat from her much warmer hand leaching into yours for a second, before she took it away.
"I'm terribly sorry to disturb you, Ma'am," you continued, lowering her hood to allow her to see your face, "But I'm just enquiring on the whereabouts of a friend of mine. Bilbo Baggins. Have you heard of him? I'm supposed to be meeting him tonight, but I must admit, I have no idea which of these houses he lives in..."
"Ah, Bilbo." Sighed the older woman, appearing to regain her confidence when she realised that you meant her no harm, "He doesn't live too far from here, love. Keep walking down this road," she leaned out of the door slightly, gesturing with her hand, "And turn left at that big oak tree."
"Thank you," you replied, nodding.
"Take care now."
She closed the door, and you shivered, pulling your cloak tighter around you, and set off in the direction that you had been pointed.
You walked for a while longer, and turned left at the place that you had been told to. Soon, you began to see a strange blue light punctuating the otherwise monochromatic darkness.
Confused, you continued walking, squinting your eyes as you turned, and saw that one of the doors of the many hobbit-holes had a pattern scratched into it, almost like a rune. The indentation was glowing with an air of magic, and you knew at once that this was the 'sign' that Gandalf had told you of.
Taking long, purposeful strides up to the door, you rapped loudly three times.
The door was opened by a flustered little man, his face bright red with exertion, and his light brown hair tousled.
"Master Baggins?" you inquired.
"Oh! Not another one!" He squeaked, and you smirked, assuming that you weren't the first.
You stepped back and began to take a deep bow, but were stopped almost immediately by the small creature.
"If one more dwarf says 'At your service' to me today, I'm kicking you all out of my house!"
You straightened up, laughing.
"I am not a dwarf, Master Baggins," you responded, taking a step into his house, and having to bend down in order to avoid banging your head on the top of the door, "I assure you, I'm very much human. Just, perhaps, not as tall as I would like to be."
"Oh I am dreadfully sorry!" replied the hobbit, taking your sodden cloak from off your shoulders and hanging it on a heavily laden coat stand, "I've just had so many dwarves in my house today..."
"Don't worry about it!" you reassured him, it had certainly not been the first time you had been mistaken for a dwarf, "Are they in there?"
You gestured to the dining room, from which the unmistakeable sounds of laughter and obnoxiously loud burping came.
Bilbo nodded, and you smiled.
"Thank you."
You shook his hand, dwarfing it in your larger one. You had knife-throwing hands, calloused and scarred, with long, slender fingers, whereas the young hobbit's hands were soft small, a clear sign of an easy life.
"My name is (Your name), by the way," you added, and the hobbit looked up at you.
"Bilbo," he responded.
You nodded and let go of his hand, walking purposefully into the dining room.
The dwarves were all sat at the large table, throwing thick slices of bread at one another, and spilling ale and stew all over the place, a large roll of cheese, half-eaten, lay at the centre of the table, and each dwarf was laughing jovially.
"I... um... hello..." you tried to shout over the racket, but to no avail.
"Hello!" you tried a bit louder, "My name is (your name)... um... I'm here to help you on your..."
"QUIET!" came a booming shout from beside you, and the noise on the room subsided as Gandalf walked in, towering above you.
The room went silent, an all eves immediately turned towards you expectantly.
"Um..." you began again, "My name is (your name). I'm here to assist you in this quest, by request of Gandalf."
Your eye caught the two younger-looking dwarves at the end of the table, a blond and a brunet, who were talking quietly behind their hands, smirking occasionally.
Annoyed at their obvious dismissal of you, you grew in confidence.
"You all know my name, but I don't know any of yours," you said simply, "Would you mind?"
"Not at all, lassie," said a stout, ginger-haired dwarf, with a distinct Scottish accent, "I'm Gloin, and this is my brother, Oin." he motioned to the greying dwarf sat next to him.
One by one, they went through their names.
Dwalin and his brother, Balin, who both looked so different, it was hard to tell that they were related. Dwalin was a great beast of a dwarf, with a balding head, and biceps the size of your thighs, whereas Balin was a lot shorter, his unusual white beard parted down the middle.
Bifur, Bofur and Bombur were the next to be introduced to you. The latter was so large, he took up two whole chairs.
Ori, a small, timid-looking dwarf introduced his brothers, Nori and Dori.
"And I'm Kili," said the younger one. His chiselled chin showed signs of a small amount of stubble growing, and you couldn't help but smile. Despite his obvious immaturity, his bravado and confidence managed to make him seem completely at ease amongst the older and wiser dwarves.
"And this is my brother, Fili,"
The blond dwarf gave you a silent nod, his moustache-braids moving in time with his head.
"A pleasure to meet you," you exclaimed, before perching down on a chair next to Gloin, grabbing a large hunk of bread from the table and taking a horse-sized bite.
"Mashter Bagginsh," you yelled, your mouth full, "Exshellent bwread!"
Gloin chuckled next to you in surprise, and you smiled at him. You could only keep up the ice-queen façade for so long. Especially when there was food in front of you.
"Well thank you very much," shouted Bilbo, from somewhere upstairs, "I made it fresh this morning."
The chatter as interrupted by three loud, booming knocks on the door. You sighed inwardly. You knew who this was.
"And it seems that we have our final guest," mumbled Gandalf, getting up from the table and walking to the door.
Brilliant.
Thorin Oakenshield had arrived.
I know. I'm a cliffhanger bitch. I'm sorry. As always, please review xx