Here I go again on my own.

Going down the only road I've ever known.

Some Whitesnake for ya on a lovely Saturday.

So, yeah. Here I am. And I'm making this a thing, since a couple of you lovely people seemed interested and wanting to know more. I'll be uploading chapters on Wednesdays and Saturdays, because... That's typically when I have free time.

Let's enjoy our time with Cheyanne, and see where this journey takes her, eh?

"You heard him, didn't you?" Cheyanne exclaimed later. She and Jon had returned to her apart once her shift had ended, and Jon had just now decided that it was his turn to read her dream.

"I did," he agreed. "But before I can agree with his opinion, I want to read it for myself."

Cheyanne passed him the papers quickly. "Read fast," she ordered. "I want to know whether to try and get that dream back."

Jon rolled his eyes, but all the same was done reading within twenty minutes. When he set down the papers, Cheyanne glanced at him.

He nodded. "Get that dream back."

Immediately, Cheyanne ushered him out of her apartment and started up the movie from the beginning. Laying back on her couch, she sighed and covered her eyes with her arm.

"Come back to me, dream," she murmured to herself.

(*)

"Mister Baggins, this is the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

Cheyanne found herself standing in the archway between the dining room and the front hallway of Bilbo's house. Thorin walked into the hall, studying Bilbo with a disinterested gaze as he did so. Cheyanne had to struggle to keep her tongue in her mouth.

Richard Armitage. Five feet away. Oh Gods.

"So this is the hobbit," he said after a moment. "Tell me, Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

Bilbo blinked at him in confusion. "Sorry, what?" he asked.

"Sword or axe, which weapon do you prefer?" Thorin rephrased his question with a glance at Gandalf.

They scooted past Cheyanne into the dining room. Her hand brushed against Thorin's cloak as he passed her, and she swooned a little, missing whatever it was Bilbo responded with.

"Thought as much," the dwarf prince was saying when she was able to focus again. He smirked a little at his fellow dwarves. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

The dwarves laugh, and Cheyanne frowned. "Leave Bilbo alone," she ordered before she could think twice. 14 sets of eyes turned in her direction. She subconsciously crossed one foot over the other and said, "He's more than he looks."

Thorin lifted an eyebrow and walked over to her. He was a taller dwarf; he stood two inches above her. Gazing at her up and down, he asked, "Who are you supposed to be?"

Cheyanne let out a breath. "My name is Cheyanne Baggins," she replied, silently cursing Jon in the back of her head. "Gandalf asked me to come."

Thorin turned to look at the wizard. "We didn't talk about this."

Gandalf shrugged and crossed his hands on the top of his staff. "I didn't think it was necessary. Besides, I believe that Lady Baggins is more than she appears to be as well."

Cheyanne lifted her chin defiantly at the dwarf, forgetting that he was part of a line of kings. Thorin tilted his head. "She does know who I am, yes?" he queried.

"Yes, I know who you are. And unlike most, I know how this thing ends. I believe that may be the hidden talent Gandalf is talking about."

"She can read into the future?" Bombur asked, looking up from his plate.

"Hah," Dori scoffed. "That's just as unlikely as her actually being useful on this journey."

The other dwarves looked at Gandalf for a response. The wizard looked towards Cheyanne. "I suppose only time will tell just how useful she will prove to be."

"Does everyone else know what's going on except for me?" Bilbo questioned from his side.

Gandalf turned to Thorin. "Perhaps we should give our king some food first, hm?"

Bilbo blinked. "King?" he stammered.

"Food first, explanation later," Gandalf replied.

Thorin was given a plate of whatever remained. As he ate, the dwarves bombarded with questions, and Bilbo drew Cheyanne away from the table. He wasn't too much shorter than her, perhaps an inch or so.

"What are they doing here?" he asked her.

"They need your help. If you do it, you'll get rich. Is that enough information for now?" Cheyanne pulled her arm from his grasp and returned to Gandalf's side.

The wizard gestured to Bilbo. "A little more light, please."

Bilbo brought a lamp closer as Gandalf pulled a map from his robe and spread it out on the table. Cheyanne felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of it. She had a copy hanging in her bedroom, but to be with the real thing...

"Far to the east," Gandalf began, "over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak."

Bilbo leaned over Cheyanne's shoulder. 'The Lonely Mountain," he read.

"Aye. Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it's time," said Gloin.

His brother nodded, ear horn up so he could hear what they were saying. "Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold: when the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end."

"Beast?" Bilbo moved in beside Cheyanne, looking up and down the line of dwarves. "What beast?"

"Well," Bofur began, leaning back, preparing for an explanation, "that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks, extremely fond of precious metals-"

"Yes, all right, I know what a dragon is," Bilbo cut in. "But what does that have to do with some mountain?"

"It's not just some mountain, cousin," Cheyanne replied. "It's very important to the dwarves."

"Perhaps you would like to explain, Lady Baggins," Balin suggested.

"How would she?" Dwalin asked, glancing at his brother.

"She seemed to know quite a bit when I met her on the path," responded Balin.

Cheyanne grinned sheepishly and shrunk down on her stool. "No, I'll be quiet. Go on."

"I want to hear just how much you know about our quest," Thorin said before anyone could say anything. He studied Cheyanne with curious blue eyes, waiting.

She let out a breath and pointed to the Lonely Mountain. "Within this mountain," she started, looking at Bilbo, "is the Dwarven kingdom of Erebor. Sixty years ago, a fire drake from the north by the name of Smaug attacked, destroying the human city of Dale, as well as taking over Erebor. We're going to go and reclaim the lost kingdom, and the treasure within the walls."

"Very good," Gandalf said, pleased.

"How do you know so much?" Gloin demanded of her. She looked down at the floor with a shake of her head, and an uncomfortable silence followed.

"Yes, but how do we get inside?" Balin finally queried, acting as though the silence had never occured. "The front gate is sealed, remember?"

"Ah, but there is another way in," Gandalf responded. A key appeared from nowhere, and he held it before Thorin. The dwarf looked it over and then glanced at Gandalf. "How did you come by this?"

"Your father gave it to me," Gandalf replied. "It's yours now." The key exchanged hands, and Thorin slipped it on a string. "Keep it safe."

Thorin nodded and hid the key behind his shirt.

"If there's a key," Fili began, thinking, "then there must be a door!"

"There is another way in!" Kili exclaimed.

Gandalf gestured to the runes on the map with his pipe. "Well, only if we can find it. Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar," finished Ori.

"Hmm, a good one too," Bilbo said from Cheyanne's side. "An expert, I'd imagine."

"And are you?" Gloin asked him.

Bilbo furrowed his brow. "Am I what?"

"He said he's an expert! Hey hey!" Oin said cheerfully, and the other dwarves started talking excitedly.

"Who knew that Hobbits had so many talents?" Cheyanne heard one say, and another said, "Don't tell me you believe that garbage about the she-hobbit."

Bilbo was desperately trying to deter the dwarves. "I'm not a burglar!" he exclaimed, waving his hands. "I've never stolen a thing in my life."

Balin spoke up over the other dwarves. "I'm afraid I have to agree with Master Baggins. He does not look the type."

"I'm not," Bilbo agreed.

"Aye, the wilds are no place for his kind," Dwalin added. "He wouldn't last a week."

Bilbo nodded, and the dwarves started to argue. Cheyanne hid her head in her arms as Gandalf rose beside her and silenced them. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, than a burglar he is."

Gandalf settled back down in his chair when the dwarves had stopped talking. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage." He nodded to Cheyanne. "And we have two of them."

"I asked you to find a fourteenth member, Gandalf," Thorin muttered. "Not a fourteenth and a half."

"Excuse me, your royal dwarf, but I'm just as useful as Bilbo is going to be," Cheyanne cut in, starting to get annoyed. "If you would just listen to me, I can tell you everything that is going to happen on our journey before it actually happens."

"Well, isn't she rude?" Dori asked Gloin, who nodded in agreement.

"We're not dividing the share again," grumbled Dwalin.

"I don't want your money," Cheyanne sighed. "I just want to help. Go on an adventure."

Gandalf looked at Thorin. "Well?" he asked. "What are you thinking?"

Thorin gazed at Cheyanne steadily. She lifted an eyebrow challengingly, and the dwarf sniffed. "If she wants to come, fine. But she will receive nothing if and when the treasure of Erebor is reclaimed."

"Good," Cheyanne said. "Gold has a way of making people go insane." She eyed Thorin. "I wouldn't want that happening to me."

The dwarf didn't flinch, but turned Balin. "Give the other hobbit a contract."

Balin passes Bilbo a long piece of paper, which Bilbo takes sadly. "It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth."

Bilbo skims it, and stops. "Funeral arrangements?" When no one responds, he retreats to read it.

Thorin leaned across Cheyanne to talk with Gandalf. "I cannot guarantee his safety," he said softly.

"Understood," the wizard replied.

"Nor will I be responsible for his fate."

Gandalf nodded after slight hesitation, and Bilbo came back, looking a little dazed. "... Incineration?" he asked, his face pale.

"Aye," Bofur agreed, "he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye."

"Huh," Bilbo said.

Cheyanne sighed and got up to catch Bilbo when he faints.

No one appeared to notice this except for Thorin. He eyed her as Balin asked, "You alright, laddie?"

"Oh yes," replied Bilbo as he bent over. "Just feeling a little nauseated."

"Think furnace with wings," Bofur went on. Bilbo took another step in her direction. "Flash of light, searing pain, then Poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash."

"Ah, nope," Bilbo managed, and Cheyanne held out her arms just as Bilbo fell back into them in a faint.

The dwarves gape at her as she settled Bilbo down on the floor. When she stood, she shrugged and said, "Told y'all I knew."

As Gandalf and a few other dwarves attend to too her "cousin", Thorin catches her arm.

"What are you, exactly?" he asked her. "You're too tall to be a hobbit, and too short to be a human. And I know you're not a dwarf."

Cheyanne grinned at him. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, my king."

She started to pull away, but Thorin's grasp on her wrist tightened. "I've seen much and heard more," he told her. "Explain to me who you are you are and what you want with my company."

"Exactly what my cousin does not want, dear Thorin," responded Cheyanne. She leaned close and whispered, "Adventure!"

Thorin didn't let go of her wrist. Cheyanne let out a breath. "Dwarf, I will tell you what you want to know, but only when we are alone. Some of the others don't seem very accepting. They may even start to call me crazy."

"You don't fear me thinking you are crazy?" Thorin asked her.

She winked at him. "You say you've seen much and heard more, yes? I believe that this will fall into the "heard" category for you."

Thorin gazed at her for a moment longer, before he finally let go of her. "We will speak later."

"As you wish, my king," Cheyanne answered mockingly. She gave him a bow and exited the dining room and crossed the hall. She leaned in the archway of a sitting room just as Bilbo stood up. "I'm sorry, Gandalf, but you've chosen the wrong hobbit."

He walked towards Cheyanne and tilted his head at her as he passed. "Why don't you use her for both purposes? She seems more willing than I am." With that, he disappeared down the hall into his bedroom.

Cheyanne sighed and turned to Gandalf. The wizard was shaking his head sadly. "Shame. I thought the speech about his many greats uncle would be enough to stir him."

"It appears that was not the case," Cheyanne commented. She crossed the room and sank down in the armchair Bilbo had been sitting in.

Gandalf paced before her, deep in thought. "Perhaps you could serve the same purpose Bilbo would," he said at last.

"No!" Cheyanne answered quickly. Perhaps a little too quickly. Gandalf looked at her, and she shook her head. "Bilbo has to come. Everything will change if he doesn't."

Gandalf merely nodded. "You're right, of course. He will come. I have faith in him."

"So do I," agreed Cheyanne.

Gandalf eyed her. "If you don't mind me asking, how is it you know so much?"

Cheyanne grinned. "Like the dwarves were saying; I can tell the future. I know how this journey ends, and for some, it's not a good one."

"Perhaps that will be your use," Gandalf mused. "Changing the poor outcome for some into a good one for all."

Cheyanne lifted her shoulders. "I need them to believe me first."

"Then that, my dear girl, will be your first job," Gandalf told her.

Thorin's voice came from the dining room, low and deep, as he began to sing. Cheyanne drifted across the hall back into the dining hall and watched him sing.

"Far over the misty mountains cold.

To dungeons deep and caverns old.

We must away

'Ere break of day.

To find our long forgotten gold."

Cheyanne closed her eyes as the other dwarves joined their king, loving every second of this.

"The pines were roaring on the height.

The winds were moaning in the night.

The fire was red

It flaming spread.

The trees like torches blazed with light."

(*)

Cheyanne woke up much too quickly and sighed in annoyance when she realized she was in her apartment. "Dammit," she muttered. "We were getting to the good part."

Shaking her head, she stretched her arms over her head. Her phone was vibrating angrily on the coffee table. She picked it up and saw she had several missed calls and text messages from Jon.

Back from dream world yet?

Hallo? Miss Baggins? Anyone home?

Yo! Chey! Return to the real world?

Did you really leave me for some dwarves, a hobbit, and an old wizard?

It was too late to call him back. He would be asleep. Instead, she shot him a quick message and retreated to her bedroom to type up the newest edition to her dream.

It took her longer to write this time, and she realized that it was two in in the morning when she finally saved the Notepad and printed it.

"Shit," she groaned, leaning back over her computer chair in a stretch. "This isn't good for me."

The papers finished printing, and she put them in her bag. To her surprise, she received a text from Jon. What happened this time?

A lot more, she answered, thumbs flying over the keypad. Could you stood by later and read it?

For this? Hell yes. I'll be there at 1. In the PM.

Cheyanne rolled her eyes, typed, Obviously and sent it.

Grunting, she stood and wandered to her bed, falling down in top of it. She didn't know what to make of her dreams. They seemed so real, yet, they had to just be dreams. There was no way they were real.

Right?

Cheyanne shook her head. She was starting to go a little crazy. How could a dream possibly be real? Especially one about something fictitious in the real world.

She rolled onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling. "Thorin Oakenshield," she mused aloud, pursing her lips. "I would like to get to know that dwarf better."

She wondered if he would believe her when she told him what he wanted to know. Surely, there was no way he could. The possibility of her story making any sense was slim.

Cheyanne wanted to fall asleep again, and return to her dream. She knew that wanting such a thing would most likely lead her to an even bigger issue than the one she was dealing with.

She sighed and closed her eyes. Whatever was happening would have to be over soon. If she was thinking back, she would have to say that the last time she'd had a string of dreams lasting over a week was when she was a hyperactive child. It couldn't go on much longer.

She was mainly worried about finishing whatever it was she had started writing.

Even though that was probably the last thing she should be worried about.

Yep. She's not really worried about the fact that she's having funky dreams. She's worried she won't be able to finish her writing.

That's so... Cheyanne.

Sorry, OC connection moment.

Anyway, I'll be back on Wednesday, so don't... Get bored and leave, please. I love you.