DISCLAIMER: Let's get this out of the way. I do not own or have any hope of ever owning the characters or happenings of middle earth. They belong to Tolkien and as far as I'm concerned he can keep them. For now. I do however, own my OC, Kidhuzel! So don't steal her. Please, feel free to leave any comments and/or questions that you may have. Follow the story in which ever way you would like, but make your thoughts known but be polite while you do it. Thank you!

~~~~~~~~~~Shishi~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2

For the half dwarf the time between meeting Gandalf and meeting the burglar for the trip is spent learning. The language of its father is ingrained in its very being but the mother tongue is slightly harder to grasp. Still the creature is a quick learn and though it has never experienced the outside world, it knows a great deal about it in a short amount of time. Nestled within its protective shell, the being slowly becomes aware of more and more. Soon it realizes that it is a she and she is unlike the other beings her carrier interacts with. However, neither is she different from many of them entirely. They are part of her and yet, they are not. It is more than the little one can understand from her current place but still she strives. The world flows around her in a timeless effort until all at once it stops with a knock on a door.

"Gandalf."

The name is enough to bring back memories of the wearisome wizard that has led her bearer to such trouble. This time, the egg captive notices that there is only slight reprimand in Thorin's voice. Clearly, he is on better terms with the wizard since last they met. Rolling uncomfortably within her now tiny home, the half dwarf pushes against the walls. They do not give out but they expand just enough for instinct to tell the inhabitant that soon she will gain her independence. Settling down, she remains still lest her jostling worry her bearer.

"I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice." Walking into the hole in the ground, Thorin peers around at his surroundings. Nodding to his kin, the dark haired dwarf allows the wizard to close the round green door but gingerly hangs his heavy coat on an available hook on his own. Smoothing his large hands down the front of his tunic, he brushes against his pendant, causing the object to bounce wildly and snagging the hairs on his chest "I wouldn't have found it at all, had it not been for that mark on the door."

"Mark?" A shrill voice calls out in defiant indignation. The dwarf watches dispassionately as a small round male shoves his way to the front of the group. Dressed in an unmistakably expensive vest and mid-calf trousers, the dwarf lord deducts that he has never seen a day of hardship in his sheltered life "There is no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!"

"There is a mark, I've put it there myself." The hobbit sucks in a breath to tell the disturber of the peace just what marks he can put where only to be cut off "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

"So, this is the hobbit." Circling his prey, Thorin watches him stiffen like a field mouse before a hawk. Eyeing the soft rolls and flimsy arms, the king instantly dislikes the lesser male "Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

"Pardon me?"

"Axe or sword." Or bow, or knife, or spear. There is no doubt in Thorin's mind that the Halfling would likely end his own life if handed any weapon sharper than a potato. Still he asks "What is your weapon of choice?"

"Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know." A children's game piece is the hobbit's weapon of choice. The dark look given by the dwarf instantly wipes the bit of pride Bilbo attempted to exhibit with his joke "… but I fail to see why that's… relevant."

"I thought as much." Clearing his face of the darker emotions brought on by the hobbit's failed witticism, the dwarf presents a jest of his own with the halfing on the receiving end "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

The dwarf's sheltered burden drifts away from the conversation as the group makes their way further into the hobbit's habitat. The warmth gives the little inhabitant strength to once again push against her prison walls. They have grown thin with age but her upper limbs are not strong enough to break them. Neither are two lower ones but as she whips her fifth limb, a pleasant shudder runs through the shelling. The uttering of the familiar word, from what seems to be so long ago to her, halts the youngling from striking her wall again.

"… dragon is." Dragon?

"I'm not afraid, I'm up for it." Confusion runs through the little being. Just as she knows she is a dwarf, she now knows she is a dragon and is always interested in learning more about both races. She questions why one must fear the other and how she came to exist if they are at odds. Straining her tiny ears, the half breed tries to hear the conversation "I'll give him a taste of the dwarfish iron right up his jacksy!"

"Sit down!"

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us, but we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest."

"Hey!" The youngest Ri brother stands again, affronted by the accusation despite being unsure which category he was being shoved into but taking a guess "Who are you calling dim?"

Bilbo watches the argument from the empty hallway, feeling like the outsider he is even within his own home. The arguing dwarves' yelling is hushed slightly by the words of the young blond dwarrow, Fili. While Bilbo may not know the dwarves in the slightest, he safely assumes that they do not know how to properly treat their host. Grumbling to himself, he silently paces the hard oak wood floor.

"We may be few in number, but we are fighters, all of us!" he thumps his fist on the table, causing his doubled goatee to wave freely. Thorin watches his nephew with an expression that is a cross between fondness and humor. All dwarves are fighters, but they will need more than brute strength to succeed in this venture "To the last dwarf!"

"And you forget we have a wizard in our company." His younger brother, Kili, jumps in to support his sibling flawlessly. The two have been raised side by side, Fili only living a few short years more than Kili, and they will not be easily torn apart. Gesturing to the wizard at the end of the table, he smiles confidently "Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time."

"Oh, well." The wizard smile nervously as the occupants of the room all turn to look at him. Thorin, having finished his meal, smirks at the unease of the elder. Because of this, he does not notice his host snatching his empty bowl and tankard off the table and rushing them into the kitchen. If he had, he may have been able to appreciate the sure footedness of the hobbit "No, uh, I… I wouldn't say…

"How many then?" Dori demands skeptically, folding his arms and glaring

"What?"

"Well how many dragons have you killed?" The hidden creature shudders at the casual tone, wondering if it is common for her kind to be killed but immediately banishes the thought. With the time she has spent gaining knowledge of which of her parts belong to which of her races, the being has discovered that the newly dubbed 'dragon' portions are clearly stronger. Thus, she determines from the lovely smoke she can sense from the wizard, it is unlikely that he has killed any dragons at all "Go on, give us a number!"

The room erupts into chaos once more as the dwarves stand to berate one another. The wizard huffs a breath at the proceedings as though he was watching children bicker. The ancient being that he is, most are children in his eyes. Bilbo rushes from corner to corner, unsure of how to diffuse the situation and most sure that his neighbors will soon call the Thain, if not the Rangers, to investigate the disturbance. As the shouts grow louder, the tired king stands to feet to quiet them.

"Shazara!" Immediately the room is noiseless. As a unit, the dwarves turn to give their king the attention he demands. That they can be so obedient confuses the Shireling but not the creature turned trinket, as she has grown used to others listening to her bearer "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing, wondering, and weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?"

Like clockwork the dwarves cheer and the captive being resumes her effort to break free of her cage. Tucking her thicker but weaker limbs around her middle, she uses her fifth to strike against the shell again. One. Twice. Three times she lashes out until she hears more than sees a crack in the barrier. Her hope is short lived as upon locating the distortion that pours in unfamiliar light, the divide is closed once more. The protective shelling healed itself, not allowing her to leave just yet. It will take more than her strength alone to gain her autonomy. Letting out a breath she has come to know as a sigh, the young one allows herself to be gently rocked as her carrier leans toward the wizard to discuss the hobbit.

"I cannot guarantee his safety."

"Understood"

"Nor will I be responsible for his fate."

"…Agreed." The two come to a settlement just as the little hobbit states a new word for the half drake's ears to greedily hear

"Incineration?"

"Oh, aye." The hatted dwarf known as Bofur nods enthusiastically as the hobbit stands wide eyed in shock. Glancing at his king, the jovial dwarf waits for his approval before continuing with his teasing. The monarch gives a nearly indiscernible inclination of his head and the pigtailed dwarrow continues gleefully "He'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye."

"You alright, laddie?" Balin asks in concern, hoping his fellow dwarves will not scare the gentle creature too badly. Should he decide not to come, they could permanently and unnecessarily scar him

"Huh? Yeah, I f…" He takes a deep breath, placing his hands on his knees "I feel a bit faint"

"Think furnace," Bofur continues, standing to use his hands for emphasis "with wings."

"I…I…" standing ram rod straight, Bilbo looks to his front door in a panicked state but his feet remain stuck to the floor "I need air."

"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof!" wagging his fingers, Bofur knows that he may indeed have frightened the innocent male out of his mind but can't bring himself to stop "You're nothing more than a pile of ash!"

"…" There is a moment of silence as all eyes watch the hobbit blink back at them. He opens his mouth as if to say something only to close it once more and blink again rapidly. Nodding to no one in particular, he follows the gesture up with a firm shake of his head "Nope."

"Oh." Gandalf mutters, quickly standing to gaze down at the fainted hobbit "Very helpful Bofur."

~~~~~~~~~~Shishi~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2 is up. Next day, crazy, I know right? I'm in a mood, don't get used to it. But if you review, I promise to get a steady schedule for it. Thank you to my reviewers that made me so excited to update quickly. You know who you are ;D ~Shishi