AN: I'm really hoping I did Thorin justice in this chapter. Getting his character right has been my main concern for awhile now.

I'm fairly certain this will end up as a Thorin/ OC story BUT I don't plan on that happening for awhile so , it may be subject to change. Not 100% sure yet. It's hard to decide when the two haven't really interacted lol

So without further ado: Chapter Seven.

EDIT: I've added in some dialogue from the film, just because I liked that scene so much. The original chapter content remains mostly untouched, maybe a bit shifted around.

Chapter VII

A Modest Proposal and a Map, most Profound

It seemed like forever before Thorin responded to my horrifically awkward introduction. For awhile there, I thought I was going to become the first case of someone to literally die of embarrassment. But thankfully, his gentlemanly obligations saved me of such a fate as he returned the greeting, albeit not as enthusiastically.

He calmly stood up and I was immediately surprised at once by two things: how short he was and also, how tall he was. Let me explain. From what I saw in the film adaptations, there was something about how it was shot that always made Thorin seem tall, intimidatingly so. It was only when he was in a scene with a normal-sized person that you were reminded that he was, indeed a Dwarf. But on the flipside, he was a pretty damn tall Dwarf. I was 5'5" and here he was, only one or two inches shorter than me! Paired with his broad shoulders and the confident air about him, I felt like I was in his shadow, despite being able to see clear over his head.

His eyes never left mine as he bent into the subtlest of bows and said to me in his rich voice, "Thorin, at your service, Miss."

I thought it odd, his introduction. It wasn't Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. Or King under the Mountain. Or even Thorin Oakenshield. There was no royal title or impressive heritage. It was just Thorin. Plain and simple.

A dumb smile crept over my face. He said the thing! Of course, I wanted to smack myself though. I could have avoided so much humiliation if I had remembered the quick and to the point 'at your service' greeting. Smart, Em. Real smart.

I laughed nervously. "Thanks," I said, then grimaced at my own reply. It seemed like nothing I said or did could recover the dignity lost at my previous word-vomit.

Thorin raised his brows slightly, finally being affected by my aura of awkward, but didn't make any move to remedy the uncomfortable silence. I had gotten myself into it, I figured; now I had to get out.

"I dunno if you got any of w-what I said before," I started, carefully trying to walk through my words. "But, my name's Emily. And I'm so at your service too," I smiled, dipping into a quick bow that sent Gandalf's hat flying from my head.

"Crap!" I cried, grabbing for it and nearly smacking the Dwarf-king in the process. I clutched the grey hat to my chest, chuckling tensely. "Ha ha, mind of it's own," I grinned, giving the troublesome piece of fabric a shake to discipline it. "Sometimes bursts off into song on occasion!"

Exit was right behind me. I could make a break for it, change my name, go into hiding for a few years. He'd never recognize me after that.

But as I planned my escape, the slightly curious look on Thorin's face was wiped clean. His eyes widened in surprise and he stepped forward, reaching out for my hair. I froze, allowing the action. I thought, at first, it was the blue color—I had been getting some stares—but when I saw him holding my braid, turning the small ornament in his fingers, I realized that wasn't the case.

Shit, I thought to myself. Oh, I wasn't ready for this! Way to go, Captain Screw-up!

"How came you by this?" he asked quietly, his intense eyes boring into mine.

Well, let me tell you a thing… Thrain and I go way back! Like ninety-one years. I was cellmates with your deranged father for some time—shared meals, got tortured together, that sort of thing. He gave me this as a gift. Pretty sure he made me an official Longbeard too. So… are we like cousins or fiancés? I'm not entirely sure about Dwarven customs…

Yeaaah. This wasn't exactly something you just blurt out in the middle of a pub a minute after meeting someone.

I shook my head slowly, my inner monologue stunting my thoughts. "Er…"

Thorin's jaw clenched and he took a step towards me, his hand finding the hilt of his sword. "You will answer me," he growled and I could tell that he was just able to contain his anger.

"It's sort of a long story…" I said lamely.

"Then I suggest you speak quickly," Thorin warned, gripping the hilt tighter.

I heard a sword being drawn but it wasn't Thorin's. A blade appeared next to the Dwarf-king's throat.

"Ye'll want t' leave the young lady alone, Dwarf," came a stranger's voice. It was the barkeep. "We don't mind ye kind 'ere if yer doin' business but threatenin' lady folk won't be tolerated."

"I have business with her," Thorin said, his voice even. His gaze never left me. He wasn't intimidated in the least. I'm sure he could take out the barkeep and half the patrons without even breaking a sweat. Not to mention me.

"Did ye hear me, Dwarf?" the barkeep growled. "Why don't ye go back into whatever hole ye crawled out of."

"Fucking ex-cuse you?" I laughed incredulously at the man defending me. "How dare you!"

Both Thorin and the barkeep looked at me, baffled by my outburst, but I continued on, picking up steam. "Have you any idea who you're talking to? No. Of course you don't, you ignoramus."

Once the barkeep realized I was speaking to him, he looked embarrassed. "I was only tryin' t' ye help, Miss."

"Help? You couldn't even help yourself. Just because you've a sword in your hand, doesn't mean you're a hero. You're far outskilled and yet, you're arrogant enough to mouth off! I swear, if you disrespect him again—no, if you so much as look at him funny—I will personally ram my foot so far up your scrawny punk ass, you'll be sucking my toes till winter! Ya got it?"

The barkeep blinked, and then gradually lowered his sword, backing off like he had no idea what to do. I heard him mutter a few unsavory names at me as he slunk back but I brushed it off. Had I not been so blatantly associated with the Wizard and thus labeled as 'potentially dangerous to trifle with', I'd have probably been jumped right there. Thorin's hand remained on his hilt until the barkeep was a good distance away. He was studying me, trying to figure me out. Good luck.

I crossed my arms, still glaring at the barkeep. "Some people just piss me off," I growled.

"Emily Parker! I left you alone for no more than a minute and already you're causing trouble!" Gandalf scolded, storming over to me.

My anger flew right out the window and I hung my head like a kid in trouble. Geez, I guess I was.

"I was just trying to talk to Thorin," I mumbled then perked up. I kept not-so-subtly shifting my eyes to said Dwarf beside me then to Gandalf, hoping he'd catch on. "You know. Thorin Oakenshield… son of Thrain, son of Thror… You know… THAT Thorin."

I realized my blunder upon seeing Thorin's wary expression. As I said before, he never gave me his fancy titles yet here I was rambling on as if I'd written his biography.

Thorin turned to address Gandalf as he seemed to be in charge. Like with me, Thorin didn't tilt his head back to look the towering Wizard in the face, instead he merely lifted his eyes. He was quite good at that—being able to look down his nose at you despite him being shorter.

"You know this girl?" he asked, an edge still present in his voice.

"Regrettably, yes," Gandalf replied, snatching his hat back from me. "If she has bothered you in any way, you have my sincerest apologies as well as my sympathies."

"I have no need of your sympathy," growled Thorin.

Gandalf continued cordially, pretending to overlook the Dwarf-king's simmering temper. "Allow us to introduce ourselves properly. I believe you've already met Miss Parker… My name is Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey."

"I know who you are," was Thorin's hard reply.

"Well, now! This is a fine chance," he said pleasantly, attempting to laugh. "Mind if we join you?" Gandalf took a seat at Thorin's table before he could respond. And had Gandalf been anyone other than a Wizard, Thorin might have told us to piss off. I quickly sat next to Gandalf, ducking my head to avoid the Dwarf-king's gaze.

There was a moment of pause before Thorin allowed himself to return to his own chair.

"So," the Wizard began conversationally. "What brings Thorin Oakenshield to Bree?"

He sighed quietly and lowered his gaze. I was very surprised when he answered. I wondered what exactly he had heard of the wandering wizard to warrant an honest reply. "I received word that my father had been seen wandering the wilds near Dunland. I went looking, and found no sign of him… until now," he said, raising his eyes to me.

I felt frozen to the spot, even after he turned back to Gandalf.

"He still lives," Thorin stated with the utmost confidence in his voice. It killed me. "I am sure of it."

Even Gandalf was rendered momentarily speechless. How do you tell a man that his father was dead? And not just dead… murdered. Horribly.

"This is not a chance meeting," Thorin continued smartly, "Is it, Gandalf?"

"No," the Wizard replied seriously. "Is it not. It seems Miss Parker has eased the trouble of finding you, Thorin Oakenshield." He inclined his head as he continued. "I ran into some unsavory characters whilst traveling along the Greenway. They mistook me for a vagabond."

"I imagine they regretted that," added Thorin dryly.

Gandalf didn't comment but pulled a scrap of leather from his sleeve. "One of them was carrying a message," he said, laying it on the table.

Thorin and I leaned forward to get a better look. It was gnarled and written on in dark markings.

"It is Black Speech," said Gandalf, and I saw Thorin retract his hand from it. "A promise of payment."

The Dwarf-king eyed the message. "For what?"

"Your head," answered Gandalf. "Someone wants you dead."

Wait, what?! There's a bounty on him? How had I not known that? I turned my head, finally taking notice of the shady-looking men all around the tavern, eyeing us up. Well, shit. I hunched my shoulders, reminding myself that between Gandalf and Thorin, we should be fine.

A muscle twitched in Thorin's jaw as he collected his thoughts, and something new flashed in his eyes.

"Your companion has something which is not her own," Thorin cut through the silence. "I wish to know how she came by it."

I shrunk back at Thorin's harsh gaze. He probably thought I had outright murdered his father or something just as terrible! I couldn't let him think that of me. Thrain and I… It was nothing like that! I cared about him! "Thorin, you have to understand tha—" I started but was cut off by Gandalf.

"If you are referring to the trinket in Miss Parker's hair, she would be most willing, in due time, to indulge you in the account of how she obtained it," the Wizard began. "But it seems that this such meeting was fated to happen yet for a far greater purpose than simply recounting a tale…"

The muscles in Thorin's jaw tightened ever so slightly and I assumed he was moments away from grinding his teeth in frustration. He was undoubtedly irritated as Gandalf seemed to fluff off his demand and throw at him his own agenda. But Thorin, being sensible and keeping his anger in check, chose to remain composed and hear what the Wizard (and I assume that had much to do with the outcome of his actions) had to say.

Thorin squared his shoulders defensively. "For what reason has a Wizard sought me out?"

Said Wizard gave the smallest of smiles, his eyes alight with something akin to mischief. "I have a proposition for you, Master Dwarf."

Thorin was silent, fixing me with an unreadable look. He sighed heavily through his nose before turning back to Gandalf. "What kind of a proposition?"

It was made very clear that the kind of proposition Gandalf had to propose was the sort that required the utmost secrecy. Which meant that we required a place to talk in secret about said proposal.

So, I ask you: What's a more promising start to a joke than 'A Wizard, a Dwarf and a schoolgirl walk into a bar'? I'll tell you. It's 'A Wizard, a Dwarf and a schoolgirl book a hotel room'. I'm still waiting for the punchline...

The Prancing Pony was pretty overcrowded that day so most of the rooms at the inn were full. We ended up taking one of the Hobbit-sized rooms since they were normally last to be rented out because although few and frequent, not many Hobbits traveled through Bree.

There were four small beds in the room as well as a round table and two wooden chairs set next to a large colored-glass window. It was reminiscent of the one Strider and the Hobbits stayed in but I couldn't tell if it were the same. Gandalf shut and bolted the door behind us. Thorin had yet to drop his apprehensive and irritated expression and was currently fixing me with a piercing stare. I tried avoiding his gaze, acting like I wasn't affected by his intimidating demeanor but really, my stomach was tying itself in knots.

Gandalf took one of the child-sized wooden chairs, setting his staff against the wall behind him and looking generally comfortable. Thorin remained standing; however, his back straight.

"What is it you want with me, Gandalf the Grey?"

The Wizard leaned on the table, lacing his fingers. "What would you say, Thorin Oakenshield, if I told you it were possible to retake your homeland?"

I watched as Thorin's shoulders dipped ever so slightly as the shock of Gandalf's words hit him. Out of all the various offers and warnings the Wizard could have thrown at him, this was one that had never crossed the Dwarf-king's mind. His face and voice were guarded. "Explain."

A small smile tugged at the Wizard's lips as he inclined his head slightly. "Perhaps, this can explain better than I," Gandalf drawled and withdrew from his robes a folded piece of old parchment. He carefully opened it, revealing it to be a map.

From where I stood, I saw Thorin's brows furrow. As if in a trance, he slowly approached the table, his gaze fixed on the map before him. His eyes scanned the document fervently, taking in the writing and familiar terrain. Thorin lifted a hand and gently ran a finger across the worn parchment to rest on the solitary peak of the Lonely Mountain.

Erebor.

"The Dwarven inscription speaks of a door," Gandalf told him, snapping Thorin from his thoughts. "There seems to be a secret entrance into the lower halls of the Lonely Mountain, meaning that it is possible to enter, undetected."

Thorin steeled his expression, pointing to a particular rune on the left side of the map. "These initials belong to my father," he said, his question very clear. As well as his faint accusation. What were we doing with it? His eyes flickered to me and my breath caught.

"And they are also your own, Thorin, son of Thrain," Gandalf said sharply. "This map was given to me by your father, many years ago, with the instruction that it be put to use."

"If this map has been in your possession, why have you not yet used it? What stops you?"

"I have no use for gold and kingdoms," Gandalf supplied. "I've come to you, Thorin Oakenshield, for you are the rightful King Under the Mountain, and the only one to lead this expedition. It's what your father intended."

A moment passed with Thorin mulling over Gandalf's words before he chose to speak again. His indigo orbs rose from the map that he was no doubt memorizing. "What is your interest in this be it not gold nor crown? What have you to gain?"

"I am sure an answer of seeing the King restored to his throne would not suffice," he began. "You are correct; however, in thinking that I have an alternative motive for the quest that may ensue…"

Gandalf paused for a moment and I took that time to take a seat on one of the beds.

"Within the mountain lies a common foe. Too long has that dragon sat there. Sooner or later, darker minds will turn towards Erebor," Gandalf warned. "You have seen, firsthand, the devastation he can cause; I wish to prevent like disasters from happening again."

I watched as Thorin studied the Wizard, searching for signs of deception. When none came, the crease between his brows lessened and Gandalf continued, hoping to sway him further to his side.

"Thorin, you can wait no longer. You are the heir to the throne of Durin. Unite the armies of the Dwarves; together you have the might and power to retake Erebor. Summon a meeting of the seven Dwarf armies. Demand they stand by their oath," he urged, pulling all the strings he thought would work.

Thorin leaned forward purposefully. "The seven armies swore that oath to the one who wields the King's Jewel, the Arkenstone. It is the only thing that would unite them and in case you have forgotten, that jewel was stolen by Smaug," he said, bitterly.

"What if I were to help you reclaim it?" said Gandalf, slyly.

The Dwarf-king narrowed his eyes. "How? The Arkenstone lies half a world away, buried beneath the feet of a fire-breathing dragon."

"Yes, it is," Gandalf replied, "Which is why we're going to need a burglar."

"A burglar?"

"Leave that to me. I believe it to be one of the least problematic aspects of this affair."

"Burglar or not, this task cannot be accomplished alone," Thorin admitted, his words a silent agreement.

"No," Gandalf breathed, a bit of relief flooding his features. "But we won't be alone."

Thorin seemed puzzled at his words. We.

"I will accompany you, of course, and help in any way I can," the Wizard said. "As I've told you, I have just as much interest in seeing this task through."

Thorin nodded. "You have my thanks, Gandalf the Grey. I will need to inform the rest of my kin of this quest. Surely, they will aid us as well… We shall make for the Blue Mountains come sunrise. In the meanwhile…" he paused and turned to look at me, "You have not yet divulged your business with my father."

I squirmed under his gaze and forced myself to not break eye contact. I didn't want to look guilty, or weak. But holding his intense stare proved a real challenge and I had to summon every ounce of self-control to not look away.

What Thrain and I went through… How could I possible put it into words? How could words even convey the constant fear we had lived in, the agony we endured, all of the tears we cried and stories we shared?

As soon as I turned into a statue, Gandalf came to my rescue. "Miss Parker has had a very tiring day," he intervened. "Perhaps it would be best to leave it for another time."

Thorin held my gaze for a moment longer before reluctantly agreeing. He didn't know Gandalf very well and had yet to fully assess him so he played it safe and stayed on his good side. The Dwarf-king bade us good night then decided to find other lodgings. He had been invited to stay with us, of course, but politely declined. I think he still didn't trust us, or at least me, to not slit his throat in his sleep.

Once he had gone, I visibly relaxed, letting out a long sigh and plopping back onto the bed.

"Well," I heard Gandalf draw. "That went much better than I had hoped."

I groaned in response and shut my eyes. The weight of the past few weeks falling on top of me.

"They are still matters we must discuss, Miss Parker, concerning yourself and King Thrain."

"Emily," I corrected, looking at him upside down.

"It may be wise to withhold certain information, such as your homeland and… future knowledge," he raised a brow at me as he continued, "It may also be prudent to go without any mention of…"

"You-Know-Who?"

He nodded sharply.

"But I can tell him about Thrain, right? About being prisoners together?" It seemed like Gandalf was about to protest but I kept talking, not giving him the chance. "He wouldn't trust me otherwise. Besides, he needs to know… it was his father."

The Wizard thought it over. "Very well," he agreed. "But you will not make any mention of how you came to be in the Greenwood, yes?"

"Alright."

"And you are, from now on, going to introduce yourself as from the East. It is so foreign a land, it may mask any oddities you present."

"Like my hair?"

He gave me a look. "To say the least..."

"Hm… So the East, huh? What was I doing there? What's my motivation? If I'm going to play this off, I need to be prepared," I told him.

I had acted in a play only once, as one of the trees in The Wizard of Oz, but I managed to come up with an extensive backstory, a romance, favorite season and a list of likes and dislikes all in one rehearsal.

"You will have been studying under the two Blue Wizards in my Order… whose names quite escape me… Some time has passed since I last seen or heard from either of them. It is very likely they have died or forgotten their purpose altogether… However, this hardly matters as very few know the business and whereabouts of Wizards."

I perked up a bit. "So… does this make me a witch?" I asked, hopefully.

"No," Gandalf said curtly. "The only witches Middle Earth has seen are allies of Morgoth, deviling in dark magic and brewing destruction for the free peoples. No, you will not be referred to as a witch, but perhaps, as an apprentice."

"A Wizard's apprentice, huh…? Okay, but if I was in the East, how'd I get landed in Dol Guldur?"

"Because you had been traveling to meet me and were thus intercepted," he said matter-of-factly. "Any further details, you can improvise or I will supply for you. For the time being, it may be best to just retire for the night. We have a quite a journey ahead of us."

I nodded and sat up to kick off my heavy snow boots. I hung my coat on the bedpost and laid my backpack on the floor. I burrowed into the blankets without another word as sleep crept over me. I almost always slept in a fetal position, curled up like a cat so the Hobbit bed wasn't too much of a problem for me. Gandalf, on the other hand, had pushed the remaining three beds together and still ended up having his legs from the knees down dangling over the edge. He was a good sport about it though and was soon snoring.

Whenever I was alone with my thoughts, bad things happened: I thought.

As tired and drained as I felt, I found it hard to fall into a sleep. My body was exhausted but my mind refused to shut down, conjuring up all sorts of situations I had to think through. How was I going to tell Thorin? I could barely introduce myself without looking like an ass…

The terror filled nights with Thrain were fresh in my mind. Sometimes, when the Necromancer didn't come for either of us, the fear was worse. Anticipating his arrival was the most wretched feeling in the world, never being able to relax to sleep fitfully. On the occasions where Thrain was himself and not riddled with madness, we would sleep in shifts so that the other could be somewhat comforted by the fact that a guard was watching. So many nights, I had cried myself to sleep in that cell, oftentimes in the old Dwarf-king's arms, and vice versa. What I would do for him to hush me to sleep again.

I squeezed my eyes tightly, keeping the tears back.

Mom used to sing me to sleep when I was little, never lullabies but some of her cheesy, outdated songs. Dad was better with stories, making them up on the spot or reading from a book. I distinctly remember him reading a novel once about a Hobbit and the adventures he had whist traveling with a band of Dwarves.

Like me, he often thought of home.