I couldn't wait to post this! I'm also going to be gone for the next week, so I'll probably not post chapter 8 until next Tuesday. Honestly, though, I appreciate the reviews! Thank you!

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"Sometimes the road of life takes an unexpected turn and you have no choice but to follow it to end up in the place you are supposed to be."

- Unknown (But I bet it was Gandalf.)

~Chapter 7~

A Very Merry Gathering

It's HIM! The Wandering Wizard, Stormcrow, the Maiar, Mithrandir, Olórin, Tarkin…

"Gandalf," I whisper again, an amazed smile slowly making its way onto my face.

He looks at me, his face wrinkled with age, but his eyes…. his eyes are like a blue flame. He's old and wrinkly in appearance but I know on the inside he is timeless. Age means nothing. I don't know if it's because I know who he truly is or if it's because I can sense it. Probably a little of both.

I don't even notice the dwarves getting up to their feet around him. "It's really you!…THE Gandalf the Grey! Someone pinch me...I don't believe it!"

His bushy eyebrows raise in pleasant surprise at my strange, worshiping behavior. He offers me a friendly smile, "And you must be the lovely young lady that Bilbo mentioned has been wanting to see me. A pleasure to meet you, Miss….?"

"Peyton." I eagerly offer him a handshake but just as quickly put my hand back down, remembering handshakes aren't the norm here. I give an awkward curtsey instead, "And the, uh, the pleasure is all mine I assure you." I suddenly realize that I am blocking the door and the dwarves are all just glancing between me and Gandalf, both curious and a little annoyed they are being kept from their dinner.

I quickly move aside, "Oh, sorry, please come in!"

A protest of shocked betrayal comes from behind me, and turn to see Bilbo had followed me to the door. What did he expect me to do? Slam the door in their faces?

I give him a guilty shrug as the dwarves walk in between us, mumbling their various greetings and offering their services to Bilbo.

Gandalf comes in at last and his head almost brushes the ceiling. He looks down at me with a confused smile, "You're quite short for a human. How old are you, Miss Peyton?"

"I'm twenty-eight, and yeah, I get that a lot." I shrug and stare up at him. He literally towers over me and everyone else. It feels so weird seeing a normal human again after being with only short people for the past two months. It is...jarring. "Are you sure you're not just really tall?" I give him a grin to let him know I'm joking.

Gandalf's eyes crease in mirth and he gives a chuckle. He finally nods and says in a deep amiable voice, "It's very possible!" He then turns to the host, "Ah! Bilbo! Thank you for having all of us over for dinner."

I watch fondly as Bilbo rips into Gandalf, letting him have a piece of his mind in his polite Hobbit way. It feels so surreal! Just like it felt when I first met THE Bilbo Baggins two months ago it feels so crazy to be in the presence of THE Gandalf. Like a celebrity that you really want to act cool around so they'll want to hang out later on and then you'll have a cool celebrity friend.

The incredible reality that I am actually here in a beloved story, meeting all these characters in the flesh washes over me again. It feels like I'm at Disneyland meeting my favorite princess or something. It's quite insane. And just like in Disneyland, I briefly wonder if I should go around and get all the signatures from everyone before I go back to my world tonight.

Or maybe Gandalf can use his wizard powers and charge my cellphone for me to take a group photo! Can he do that? I don't know how magic works. He actually seems less crazy than in the cartoon.

Bilbo had ended his long spiel and is chasing after dwarves up and down the halls while I had been lost in thought. Gandalf and I are now standing alone by the door.

I nervously scratch the back of my head, "Gandalf, I have heard SO much about you…I truthfully don't know where to begin…I-" I suddenly frown as I notice the hat that he has taken off his head is grey and not blue. "Your hat isn't blue?"

Gandalf raises his eyebrows before looking down at the hat clasped in his hand and then back at me, "Should it be?"

"Uh, yes. Yes, it was always described as blue." I'm worried about all these details. "And your clothes are different too." He looks like he's wearing a tattered grey Snuggie. Where's the scarf?

Gandalf gives me a polite smile, "Perhaps we can talk somewhere calm?" He asks, glancing around at the dwarves reuniting joyfully (and loudly) with the others. My eyes widen as I notice many of them head-butting each other. Ouch?

I swallow then nod, leading him around the head-banging dwarves and painful-looking back claps. We walk back towards Bilbo's back parlor.

The sound progressively grows louder as we move into the middle of the activity, the dwarves make themselves at home, walking to and fro, bringing dishes and foods from the kitchen or pantry to the dining room that Balin and Dwalin have set up.

I can hear my poor friend protesting at the mud being tracked in and the dwarves obnoxiously fiddling with his different decorations and furniture in the rooms. I am shocked to notice a dwarf with a star-shaped hairstyle put a gold-framed picture sneakily into his jacket pocket.

As I pass Bilbo by; I whisper helpfully in his ear, "Keep an eye on the star-shaped dwarf. He's pickpocketing your family photos." I don't look back to see his poor face as I continue on down the hallway with a slouching Gandalf, but I hear him exclaim, "Which one has a star-shaped head?!" before I close the door behind Gandalf.

The loud din lowers to a low murmur and I heave a sigh, turning to the wizard standing in the room. The knowledge who this great man is makes the small room seem smaller.

"Feel free to sit." I indicate a chair, before realizing that it's too small for his hips and rush to grab a nearby stool. Once we're both seated I give a self-conscious chuckle and repeat, "I don't know where to begin."

"I have always found that the beginning is the best place to begin." He gives me a patient smile but I feel like he is humoring me.

His expression is one of politeness, but he feels distant, no doubt wanting to get back to the quest he has organized. It feels as if he already plans on saying no to whatever I request of him due to the fact that he's already very occupied for the next year or so. I huff a little in embarrassment. Of course.

And so I tell Gandalf all that has befallen me for the past two months. Starting with waking up in the field in the woods by Michel Delving alone, to meeting Thorin Oakenshield on the road, to finding out that Middle Earth is actually a real place and somehow I am on the planet Arda instead of on planet Earth, to looking for Bilbo and awaiting Gandalf's arrival.

Gandalf slowly loses his patient, polite look and looks more and more intrigued. The only indicators I have of what Gandalf is thinking are his bushy grey eyebrows and fire-blue eyes which are very expressive as they shift between confusion, shock, amusement, pity, and deep contemplation.

The two things that seem to surprise him the most about my story are, firstly, that it was Thorin who was the first soul I met once arriving, and secondly that I already knew about the Quest for Erebor from books in my own world. Since I trusted Gandalf to have less of an existential crisis than Bilbo, I let him know that it was from those books and cartoon adaptions that I was able to know how to find Bilbo and, consequently, himself.

"That is one of the most fascinating tales I have ever heard, my dear," Gandalf gives me a sincere expression, "And I have heard many in my lifetime."

"Yeah, a couple thousand years is nothing to shake a stick at." I agree absentmindedly while staring at Bilbo's intricate hand-crafted rug but not seeing it. His response is a little troubling. He's never heard of a situation like mine before? Like, ever?

Gandalf leans back on his stool and stares at me incredulously. "How do you know my true age? No one but the elves know my age!" He asks in utter amazement.

"I told you. This whole adventure is written in a book in my world."

He leans forward then and there is no nonsense in his demeanor. His blue eyes narrow at me critically, "What else do you know?"

He's testing me.

I feel a pang of worry in my stomach that he seems skeptical. How can he not believe me? My mind goes through all the information I just gave him, and I have to admit the whole tale IS quite fantastical. Bilbo didn't believe me at first either.

I shrug, "I only know the basics. I know you're of a group called the Mayars?"

"Maiar." He corrects automatically and then shuts his mouth to not help me again.

"Right. So, you're technically much much older than a couple of thousand years. Oh! I remember that you serve the Valar? Or the Illutar? Or the Eru? Someone like that." I wave my pitiful explanation away, "Honestly, I don't really know much else about you Gandalf except… I know that you are good. And that despite all your mysteries and cryptic sayings- you can be trusted. I was obviously wrong about the blue hat and scarf. But…I know I'm right about your character."

He says nothing but watches me for a moment. I wonder what he is searching for? He seems to find it, however, if the small smile that appears on his mouth is anything to go by.

He gives me a respectful nod, "I'm quite impressed, Miss Peyton. I don't believe I've ever met anyone like you."

"Someone from another world?" I frown worriedly.

This is not good. I thought this sort of thing would be right up his alley. He's a wizard for crying out loud! I thought he dealt with crazy situations like mine on a daily basis!

"Yes. As well as the fact that you know the future with such detail…" he mumbles to himself, puffing on his pipe, and thinking deeply. "This could be very beneficial..."

I blink at him. He's not suggesting what I THINK he's suggesting, is he? There's a very specific reason that I can't go on the quest. I really REALLY can't.

"Uhh, Gandalf? Back to the main question at hand…how do I get back to Earth?" Best to not let him get any ideas.

Gandalf nods as if not really hearing me. "Of course, of course. You must be getting back. But WHY have you come seems like a much more important question, wouldn't you agree?"

My eyebrows furrow. "No? I mean, well…sure, it's an interesting question, most definitely. I've been wondering about that this whole time too…but after two months of hanging around Hobbiton, I kinda reached the conclusion that it's all a glitch in the matrix or something. But, regardless, I should probably just get home and THEN worry about why I was here don't you think?"

Gandalf looks confused by my matrix reference, but moves past it and shakes his head, "I hate to disagree with you, Miss Peyton, but I do not see how that would be logical." He puffs on his pipe.

"What do you mean?" I ask him worriedly.

"Well, you were obviously sent to Arda…to Middle Earth…to the Shire…nay to BILBO BAGGINS home of all places!… for a marvelous purpose. A mission of sorts! Same as me. Same as everyone, when you really think about it." He gives me an earnest look.

Purpose? I shake my head and smile, amused, "Gandalf, Gandalf...the story is already written. There's no need for me in any of it. Evil is destroyed, good wins the day, and everyone's happy! It's a classic fairytale ending!"

Gandalf gives me a searching look, "What about Thorin?"

I inhale a quiet gasp and my mouth drops open as my eyes widen in realization. Thorin. And not only Thorin but Kili and Fili! I had almost forgotten, more focused on the events of the Lord of the Rings timeline. My face is a dead giveaway especially with Gandalf watching me carefully.

"How...how do you know about that?"

"About what?" Gandalf replies, still staring intently.

"About...Thorin's death?"

At that, it's Gandalf's turn to be blown over by the hurricane. His lips part and his pipe falls from his mouth, quite forgotten, "Thorin dies?" His voice is pained.

I frown in confusion. "Uhhh, wasn't that what you were referring to?"

"No, Miss Peyton," His face is grim and worried, "No, I was referring to the fact that the first person you came in contact with in this world WAS Thorin Oakenshield, the exiled King Under the Mountain. Who, as you already know, will be here tonight, about to go on a quest to reclaim his homeland. It all seems so...so..." he doesn't finish but rather puts the pipe back in his mouth, puffing away, now quite distracted with his thoughts.

"So?" I prompt, wondering what he is thinking. When he doesn't continue I prompt again, "So what, Gandalf? What does meeting Thorin first have to do with me being here?"

Gandalf pulls the pipe out of his mouth once more and shrugs, staring at the room around us in grim contemplation of his dwarf friend's death, "It simply struck me as an interesting key part to the story is all. It may be nothing. Just a coincidence." He then turns his blue Maiar eyes on me, arresting me to my seat, "Or…it may be everything. It may be why you're here, Peyton of Earth. Especially, with this unsettling new development about Thorin's fate…."

I feel a little dizzy, "You think I was brought to Middle Earth because of….a dwarf?" I let out an incredulous laugh. I really must be in the twilight zone. Cue the freaky music. Nothing makes sense. What does a fictional character like Thorin Oakenshield have to do with me? "Uh, that can't be why I'm here, Gandalf. Impossible. There's no way I could save him." I shake my head, completely confident.

"Why not?" Gandalf asks with a puff of his lips.

"Because there's no way that I, Peyton Silva, can save him from Azog! That's just ludicrous! If the Valar wanted someone to save him then they would have sent a Navy Seal or John Cena or freaking Jackie Chan! Someone with nun-chuck skills or a sniper ability that can actually fight Azog!"

Gandalf's face turns even graver, "So…it's true. I had thought they were merely rumors..."

I tilt my head at him, but he merely looks off into space toward the open window into the night.

I have to prompt him with a sigh, "What rumors?"

"The Defiler lives." He replies gravely.

I nod. In the book he had been killed by Dain, but there was a deleted scene in the cartoons that showed it was Azog, not Bolg who had killed Thorin and Fili in the Battle of the Five Armies. I wasn't sure how Kili was killed. But I'm assuming it was Azog or Bolg that did it.

I sigh, "Yeah, he's still kicking."

But Gandalf isn't looking at me. He continues looking toward the open window into the night and I can tell that he's very upset.

I shake my head mournfully, "I'm sorry, Gandalf. I really am. I wish I could save him. He's...he's really quite amazing and I admire him a lot. But ...it's simply impossible. Not unless I knocked him out during the battle and chained him up in Erebor. And I don't think he would appreciate that."

I probably couldn't knock him out anyways. I'd probably piss him off trying, or I'd severely injure him. The guy can lift my whole body weight up with a single arm...so it would take nothing short of severe blunt-force trauma to the head to knock him out for an entire battle. Besides, why send me to knock him out? Why not send a super strong guy like Dwayne the Rock Johnson? Yeah, no. I definitely wasn't sent here to save Thorin.

Besides! I don't know much about dwarves but if Dwalin and Thorin's weapons and gruff manners seem any indicator, they would rather die than receive dishonor for not fighting.

Gandalf finally looks at me with a sigh, seeming to have decided something and his face is somber and serious, "I am of the Maiar, as you already know. We act by the guidance of Eru Iluvatar but we are not perfect and we do not know all things. Some things that seem to be small and weak are actually of the greatest importance. And some things that seem of immense importance are, in fact, rather inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. And in this situation that you find yourself Miss Peyton- you are here for a purpose. Of that, I am sure of. Sometimes knowledge comes from more places than just your head. Sometimes it comes from your heart, and what you feel."

Woah. That's deep.

I can't help but lean towards him, full of wonder, "And...what does your heart tell you, Gandalf?"

He smiles, and counteracts, "The better question is: what does YOUR heart tell you, Peyton of Earth?"

I frown, thinking hard. What did I learn in the past two months of being here that was so important? Finally, I have to shake my head, "It isn't telling me anything Gandalf... except that my family is worried sick." I begin feeling anxious, noticing that he dodged the question and I HATE that. "What should we do? I've spent two months here in the Shire, but I haven't seen anything that would necessitate me being here in the first place. Why am I here?"

"We shall find out soon enough." Gandalf nods cryptically and then pushes himself off the stool. "Come, let us see to the others. I don't want my hobbit to have an aneurysm."

My mouth gapes as he opens the door and slips out without another word to me. The loud laughter and talking from outside spills into the room through the door he has left open. I realize we've been talking for quite some time, and the cacophony outside has just gotten worse as Bilbo begins shouting "Put that back! Put that back this instant!"

He was definitely dodging the question. Plus, how does he even know what an aneurysm is if there are no advanced medical technology in Middle Earth?!

"Oh! And one more thing!"

Gandalf pops his head back into the room, startling me. "I think it best that you keep your foreknowledge to yourself. At least until I receive further instruction from the Valar."

"Uh, ok." I say, deferring to his counsel. He is Gandalf, after all.

He gives me a nod before popping his head back out of the room.

I sit there, feeling frustrated and antsy. I thought for sure that Gandalf would send me straight home after hearing my tale. I imagined that he would show up, wave his staff around my head while I clicked my heels three times, and said, 'there's no place like home!' I thought I'd be back in Nevada by this point of the story.

Wrong fairytale story to wake up in, I guess.

I bring a hand through my hair distractedly and after a moment's deliberation, I finally go after Gandalf. I don't want to let him out of my sight. I can be patient and go home at the end of the night. I waited two months so what's a few hours more, right?

I make it to the main hall and see him laughing with one of the dwarves who gives him a teeny cup of Bilbo's wine to drink while he also pats Bilbo on the back in an attempt to comfort him. Poor Bilbo is beside himself with agitation.

I glance around worriedly, guessing that Thorin has already showed up while I was with Gandalf. I sneakily check each room, wanting to see him before he sees me, but I don't see any sign of him. The most noise is coming from the dining room. My morbid curiosity gets the better of me, and I ease my way over and slowly stick my head into the room to take a peak.

The table is a pig stye. It looks like someone just threw a bunch of random food onto the table. Very different from the organized and deliciously seasoned meals Bilbo likes to make.

Basically, they've taken the whole pantry, poured it into bowls and onto plates, and set it all on the table. All of Bilbo's salted ham, summer sausages, winter apples, sourdough bread, zucchini muffins, heirloom tomatoes, salted pork, cucumbers and vegetables from his garden, cut pears and apricots, whole grain crackers and all the cheeses of the rainbow are spread out, except for the Blue cheese (which the dwarves must not like). Someone even opened up Bilbo's jar of pickled eggs, which fills the room with its pickled smell.

I spy Bilbo's Strawberry-rhubarb pie he was going to take to the village fair tomorrow, and I think that must be what he was so angrily shouting about before Gandalf and I arrive. Poor guy. He won't be going to the fair tomorrow, so it's best it gets eaten anyways.

As I watch, Fili gets up on the table and starts passing out tankards of ale. All the dwarves are pushed up against the walls and there's no room at all. Unless you go over or underneath the table. Fili surprisingly doesn't step on anything, but I'm sure I saw some of the dirt of his boots drop into the bread pudding. Yikes.

I slowly slide back from my sneaky ninja peaking so they don't see me. Thorin's not in there.

A rough throat clearing causes me to turn to find the fierce-looking Dwalin holding a mug of ale up to his chest, watching me closely while he leans against the wall opposite of me.

I don't know if it's his bald tattooed head or dark eyebrows, but he paints quite an intimidating picture as he studies me in a disapproving manner.

I raise an eyebrow, attempting to be brave, "Can I help you, Dwalin?"

He raises a stern one as well.

His voice is deep and his brogue is thick, "Yeh aren't a hobbit, you're no' a relation of Mr. Baggin,'ere. Neither are ye his wife." He nods over at Bilbo who is currently staring at his empty hamper in dismay. "You've spoken with the wizard like ye wanted...so what are yeh still doing here, lass?"

Way to be blunt about it. No beating around the bush with this one. After speaking with Gandalf, who seems to enjoys dancing around people with his words, I actually find it quite refreshing if a bit formidable.

"Same thing that you are." I fold my arms and copy his stance, "I'm trying to get home."

He looks surprised that I know about their quest before his face darkens, and he lowers the mug of ale a little, "You know more about the situation than yeh should. Who told yeh? Was it the wizard?"

"No. I just know things." I give him a cryptic smile as I lean against the wall next to the doorway.

"He's not going to like this." He mutters lowly into his mug of ale. I frown wondering who he's talking about when I realize he must mean the leader of the company.

"Thorin will have to deal with me being here just for tonight." I roll my eyes. "I'll be gone by morning, same as you."

He looks up at me in surprise yet again and even MORE suspicion that I know who he is speaking of. "How did you come to know the princes and Thorin?"

"I've never met the princes until today."

Dwalin pushes himself off the wall, "You lie. Ye knew the princes by the sounds of their voices before they had even entered the room."

"No? I heard them announcing themselves at the door to Bilbo. I swear, I was actually really surprised to see what they looked like. I thought they'd be…different."

He doesn't believe me. "And Thorin?" He presses.

"I met his highness at the end of his sword that he pointed at me once," I reply drolly with a smirk, wondering if Dwalin will make the same mistake the innkeeper at Michel Delving did.

Dwalin doesn't draw the same inference the innkeeper did, probably because he knows Thorin personally. He actually gives me a mean smile, "What did you do to deserve it?"

No hesitation or guessing. Dwalin knows his King is innocent.

It's my turn to scowl, annoyance and embarrassment staining my cheeks red, "I didn't deserve it. I asked him which direction to town."

"I seriously doubt that." He then gives me a look before we both are interrupted by the dwarves in the dining room shout something and start downing their ale. He shakes his head before raising his mug and gulping his ale with them.

"Why? Because he's such a gentleman?" I tilt my head to the side, curious as to what he will say. I already know Thorin is a good guy. It was very kind of him and completely out of character to take me to Michel Delving. But I want to hear Dwalin's answer and I wait as he finishes gulping down the ale, and gives a burp. The echoing burps come from the doorway to the dining room.

I wrinkle my nose in surprise. My brothers and I had burping contests all the time. But that was in the privacy of our home, never at a guest's house.

"Because Thorin would never threaten a maiden without good cause." He shrugs off the wall, leveling me with a glare. "So, again, I'll ask...what did you do to deserve it?"

"Just ask him yourself tonight. He even apologized for frightening me." I roll my eyes and shrug off the wall as well before walking away. Honestly? I'm actually disappointed with these dwarves. So far they've been nothing but rude, obnoxious, and presuming.

I don't look back to see Dwalin's expression, but I can feel him watch my back as I go over to Bilbo who is staring mournfully at his larder.

"Sorry, Bilbo." I say, putting a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Sorry that you have to hang out with these guys for the next year, I mean.

"This will take me WEEKS to restock..." he moans, shaking his head.

I don't say anything. He won't be here tomorrow, so he'll look back with gratitude at this moment. It'd be horrible to come back to a house full of spoiled, slimy food. The smell would be unbearable.

I hear a few thumps of something hitting the floor and we both turn around to see food fly out from the dining room doorway and land in the hallway. Dwalin is nowhere to be seen, so he must have joined the others. Gandalf has finished eating and comes out.

He sees Bilbo and I standing together and comes over to us, "My dear Bilbo, what is the matter?"

I raise my eyebrow at him. Really Gandalf?

"What's the matter?! I'm surrounded by dwarves!" Bilbo indicates to some of the dwarves using his crocheted doilies to wipe their mouths.

"Oh, but they're quite the merry gathering! Er...once you get used to them."

"I don't want to get USED to them! They've trampled mud deep into my carpet, they PILLAGED my pantry! And the bathroom? Oh! I'm not going to even tell you what they've done to the bathroom. Destroyed the plumbing completely! I invited you to my home because Peyton here is in need of your assistance! So what are the rest of them doing in my house?!

"Excuse me?" We all turn to look at a small timid-looking dwarf, his brown hair cut like someone put a bowl on his head, holding a plate out in front of him politely, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"

I blink in surprise. Well...they aren't ALL bad, at least.

"Here Ori, give it to me." Fili appears and takes it from Ori. He sends me a wink before suddenly throwing it at Gandalf! I gasp.

Gandalf moves to the side just in time for me to see that Kili is behind him, and he catches it. But then Kili throws it into the room next to him!

I think Bilbo's about to lose his head, "E-XCUSE me! That's my mother's father's dishes and they're almost a hundred years old!"

I grit my teeth and hold my breath. Bilbo is going to kill me. In the cartoon, they actually do break his plates.

Bilbo rushes over to the dining room to see what has become of the plates, only for Fili to start catching plates thrown at him from the room over, playing with them like he would a hacky sack on his arms and shoulders.

"What did you say your name was?" He smiles at me, not even looking at the plates bouncing on his arms.

"Uhhh..." I stare at him wide-eyed.

Bilbo's loud voice reaches us from the next room, "Get off the table! That is fine carved mahogany and you're scuffing it with your boots! And…d-don't bang the knives together! You'll blunt them!"

"Oh! Did you hear that, lads? He said we'll blunt the knives!" A dwarf in a strange hat mocks him.

Kili begins to sing, "Blunt the knives, bend the forks!"

Fili next, "Smash the bottles and burn the corks!"

"Chip the glasses and crack the plaaaaaaates!"

"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"

My mouth drops open in a huge smile of amazement as cups and saucers fly over and around me, Fili and Kili whizzing them around like they're made of paper.

I realize two things. One, their reflexes are mind-boggling. Is this a dwarf thing or have they just practiced a lot? It looked like they hadn't seen each other in a while, so when would they get the time to practice?

And two…how are they all singing the song… together…on the spot!? I know parts of the song from beforehand. But what's their excuse?

It's must be Dwarf magic.

I know they have their own brand of it, just like the elves. But how does that work exactly? Is it like Disney magic where the characters break out in song with synchronized dance moves, or something?

It's also full of trust, I realize. I look into the room over and Balin is shooting dishes up into the air without looking and simply trusts that someone will catch them. My anxiety could never. I mean what if someone makes a mistake? No one's perfect. One of the dwarves, I don't know who, is catching them being thrown at his back at the sink without looking. How can you always trust someone to never miss? Like, ever?

"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" The dwarves finish with a loud cheer when Bilbo rushes into the room with a sigh of relief. Everyone laughs and I can't help but give a slow clap, deeply impressed.

Dwarves must have some sort of mind connection with one another that they don't tell anyone about. It's the only thing that makes sense.

A knock sounds on the door and the company's laughter abruptly stops, leaving a heavy silence that engulfs the room. In that moment, my blood feels like someone poured ice water into it. A tight knot forms in my stomach, squeezing with an intensity that threatens to overwhelm me. The surreal enchantment of the singing fades, replaced by the realization that the most important dwarf of the company has finally arrived.

"It's him," Gandalf's voice carries a somber tone, his eyes meeting mine with a knowing look. His gaze seems to convey the weight of the impending encounter.

It seems almost funny that we're all so spooked by a very moody Dwarf King knocking on the door. But, as I look around the room, I realize that it isn't fear that grips the others, but rather a profound respect for their King. Borderline reverence, even.

Me, on the other hand? My stomach feels like it's full of grasshoppers doing acrobats, jumping all over the place. Equal parts excited and terrified. Mostly terrified. He's probably, most likely, TOTALLY going to freak out when he sees me here! Memories of our painfully awkward previous encounter punch me in my heart, causing me to cringe and yearn for retreat

All the members immediately stand up and walk out to the main room, crowding around in the small space to show difference to their King. Should I just wait here then, or…?

I slowly stand up and look over at the adjoining room. Perhaps if I take small steps, I'll be able to slip away unnoticed? I really really don't want to see him again. The whole thing is going to feel awkward and I'll have to apologize for even being here at his super-secret meeting and...let's just avoid all the drama shall we?

But then Gandalf shoots me with a knowing look and goes as far as to then indicate with his eyes and head that I am expected to stand with the others.

Humph! I scowl at him before heaving a sigh and walking out with the dwarves. I plant myself firmly behind Bombur and Bifur though. They're both big enough to hide behind, and I can still peak over their shoulders.

Gandalf opens the door.

"Gandalf, I thought you said this place would be easy to find."

My stomach gives a stronger somersault than before as his voice moves through me like ripples through water. Deep, like the rumble of a large dangerous cat who, for the moment, has put his claws away. What will he do when he finds me standing here? Maybe I'll get lucky and he won't remember me? An exile dwarf king surely has more to worry about than some strange girl who sat behind him on a pony for two hours, right?

"I lost my way, twice. Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

He takes off his traveling cloak and I can't help but drink in his appearance after not seeing him for two months. His lovely dark brown hair, as dark as the rich soil of Bilbo's garden, is unhindered by a hood this time and rests on his broad shoulders.

Normally I dislike seeing guys with long hair. In my experience, they usually have unwashed, scraggly hair that smells like cigarettes, sweat, or weed. But Thorin's hair is voluminous and has a healthy glint to it. I notice those familiar neat braids still on either side of his head from before and I wonder if he ever changes his hairstyle? It directs the viewer's eyes to his handsome face like a picture frame.

His clothes are different than last time though. Darker, with more armor on his arms and chest, clearly prepared to go to battle for his mountain. Same belt and boots though.

Bilbo loudly protests about the mark on the door since he had forgotten to berate Gandalf about it earlier, only for Gandalf to shush him and then introduce him to Thorin.

"So…this is the hobbit." He studies Bilbo, circling him like a prowling lion, making fun of Bilbo's lack of skills, and looks over at the rest of us in mocking amusement.

Normally, I would stick up for Bilbo, but I feel strange. An odd detachment settles over me as if I'm simply an observer of a movie in virtual reality. I'm curious to see what will happen next so I don't interrupt. Frantically, I try and think of when (if ever) would be a good time to ruin the evening and flip everything on its head by announcing myself? I should have planned this beforehand, but as I said to Gandalf before, I wasn't expecting to be here this long.

I look over at Gandalf, who is watching ME surprisingly.

I frown and shake my head slowly at him. I really don't need to talk with Thorin or let him know I'm even here. They'll be leaving tomorrow, so it might be easier if he and I don't cause a ruckus. I could slip away and be nothing more than a strange memory he'll have of Michel Delving. It will be better. For everyone.

I start slowly moving away, my bedroom is just down the hallway. Just a little further...

Suddenly Gandalf quietly thuds the ground with his staff. My feet stick to the wooden floor as if the shoes and wood have become fused together to form one element. I gasp loudly, looking down at my feet and then back at Gandalf and then back at my feet. How did he do that? I can't pick my feet off the floor! Magic!

It's the worst possible moment for me to gasp though, because there had been a moment of quiet in the hall. Thorin must have heard my gasp because when I glance up from my feet to Gandalf once more, his piercing blue eyes accentuated by dark eyebrows meet mine over Bombur's shoulder. His eyes comically widen as his whole body tenses up, his lips part slightly in surprise.

Damn it! He remembers me!

All the dwarves notice his reaction and turn to look at me, including Bombur so there's no place to hide.

"Uhh, hi Thorin." I give an awkward half-hearted wave then pitifully add, "It's not what you think..."

End of Chapter

Wha-! Did I just-! Did I just leave you all 'hanging on a cliff'?! :D

I'll make you a deal though...if I get some reviews on this chapter I will update again next week on Wednesday. If not, I'll let it hang until next Tuesday like I originally planned (since I posted this chapter early).

Sorry if this (and the next two chaps) seem like the same scene literally EVERYONE writes. I try to be original but when you're working with the same scenes as everyone else, things will tend to overlap. Thorin always says 'No. She can't come.' And then the OC responds with "something or another' and Gandalf is always like 'C'mon bruh, let her come!' And Thorin is like 'No way Jose', And then Gandalf says 'She has to.' And the Thorin says 'Fine. But I don't like her' And then the adventure happens! :3

I'll try to mix it up for you guys a tad...but only a tad! XD