UPDATED! Wasn't missing much but a couple of lines so whew! :0
His knock was loud and silenced the noise coming from within the home so much that Meara could hear Mithrandirs' softly spoken words. "He's here."
Meara stood back behind Thorin, arms crossed as they awaited the door to open. When the door did creak open, Meara could only see Mithrandir's grey robes and beard from the doorway as Thorin greeted him.
"Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice." He shrugged off his coat, placing it on a coat rack. "I wouldn't have found this place at all if it weren't for the mark on the door."
Meara wondered if he was an arse or just trying to save face in front of the wizard, though an indignant voice from down the hall was arguing that there was no mark before she could voice her own opinion.
"There is a mark, I put it there myself," Mithrandir was looking down at the hobbit before his eyes glanced toward the doorway where he spied Meara. "Ah, Lady Meara. You've arrived earlier than expected."
Meara ducked through the door, glancing at the ruffled looking halfling, the large group of dwarves before looking out at Fáno. "I'll be back out after a moment. Will you be alright staying out here, it's a tad bit cramped inside."
Fáno flicked his tail, his ears flattening, "If the other dwarves are anything like Sir Thorin, I think I'd rather wait outside."
Meara ducked back out and kissed his forehead in a chaste manner, speaking in sindarin once more. "Don't worry, my dear. It won't always be like this."
She stepped back inside, closing the door behind her.
"Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce you to the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield." Mithrandir motioned the halfling toward Thorin, who stepped over to the frazzled halfling with an air of dignity.
"So this is the hobbit." He walked around him. "Tell me Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?"
The one Mithrandir called Bilbo, looked appalled and confused. "Pardon me?"
"Axe or Sword? What's your weapon of choice?"
"Well I have some skill at conkers, but I fail to see why that's relevant."
"Thought as much." Thorin glanced over his shoulder at some of the other dwarves. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."
Meara didn't like his haughty tone, even if he may have been right. She glowered at him as he and the other dwarves left the entrance. Meara ducked to a knee in front of the hobbit. "Hello, Bilbo Baggins. I am Meara. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"A-and you as well." He looked confused as he met her gaze and then looked to Mithrandir who patted him on the shoulder. "Are you here to eat my food as well?"
Meara grinned and winked at the hobbit, "I have more sense than this lot. I ate before I arrived."
The look of relief on the hobbit's face was almost adorable and Meara couldn't help the laugh that escaped her when he responded rather sheepishly. "That's quite fortunate. There was only enough food left to make a small portion of stew."
As Bilbo wandered off in his house, probably to clean or straighten something out, Meara glanced suspiciously at the wizard. "I met Thorin on the road, he seemed rather surprised I would be joining them on this trip."
The wizard gave her an inquisitive look, "Yes, well I hadn't planned on you both meeting before I had the chance to bring it up."
"Always scheming, you are, Mithrandir." She gave the wizard a smile before giving him a welcoming hug.
"It's always a pleasure, my dear." The wizard chuckled patting her on the shoulder.
"Have your chance to speak with them," Meara motioned with her head to the group of dwarves gathering around the table at candlelight. "I'll camp outside. Wouldn't want to overcrowd the house now."
Meara winked before ducking back out of the home to join Fáno on the hill that may have actually been Bilbo's roof. Fáno, the poor thing, was already curled up and asleep, waking only enough to identify Meara as she approached before curling himself around her as she laid down, drifting back into sleep mere seconds later. Fáno, an irrefutable cuddle bug.
As she settled, Meara focused her hearing to listen in on the dwarves, who despite their best efforts at speaking softly, were quite loud.
It seemed that they were discussing the dragon. They got loud and rambunctious as they spoke about Mithrandir, who had to have killed hundreds of dragons in his life-time. That was a suggestion by a younger sounding dwarf, and probably wildly untrue if Mithrandirs' panicked coughing were anything to go by. Meara chuckled, what a rambunctious lot.
Thorin shouted, and his words made Meara focus.
"...rumors have begun to spread...Eyes have begun looking to the east, assessing...wondering, weighing the risk. Do we sit back and let others claim what is rightfully ours?"
That knowledge made Meara give pause. From what she remembered of the scrolls and history tomes she's read of the dwarven kingdom, Erebor could act as a foothold for power. It seemed that Thorin's quest would be a race against others as well. If Orcs, nefarious humans or anyone else were to grasp their hands on the mountain, it could tip the balances of the world. Especially with the amount of wealth that was trapped within. The kind of wealth that could attract a dragon…
And Thorin seemed intent on taking back the mountain, though Meara had been under the impression it was the mountain itself he wanted back, not the wealth. Reclaiming a home was one thing, but money and wealth had a way of corrupting, and she was no stranger to corruption. Even the best people could fall to the throws that wealth could offer. Maybe this wasn't the best first outing for Fano to be on...especially with the prospect of opposing parties.
"The front gates are sealed."
"That is not entirely true." Mithrandir's voice spoke up.
"How did you come by this?"
"It was given to me by your father, Thrain. For safekeeping. It is yours now." Mithrandir said.
Another unfamiliar voice spoke up. "If there is a key, then there must be a door!"
Meara winced. Another young lad and clearly not that bright if he could speak the obvious so...obviously. If she and Fáno were to act as their scouts, it seemed they were going to have a harder time than Meara imagined.
"...the Wild is no place for gentle folk." A dwarf was saying before the rest of them began to speak over themselves.
Meara flinched and covered her ears though when Mithrandir's roaring voice silenced the others, ending on a soft note with a slight flare of magic. "IF I SAY BILBO BAGGINS IS A BURGLAR THEN A BURGLAR he is…"
Meara unfocused, rubbing her ears as Mithrandir's voice became a muffled echo from the house. It seems Mithrandir has been doing a little too much scheming, Meara thought. She watched the stars, thinking quietly to herself about the quest these dwarves seemed to be far unprepared for. She glanced at the warg pup curled next to her. Worry gnawed at the back of her mind. She really shouldn't have brought him, but the thought of him hating her sent more dread down her spine than she cared to think about. Then the sound of her name made her focus back in on the dwarves inside.
"...then we are with you laddie, we will see it done."
"Gandalf, what of the woman outside. This Lady Meara you invited." Thorin spoke.
"Ah, Lady Meara is quite a skilled warrior. I asked her to accompany us as...an escort of sorts."
Another dwarf snorted, "What would we need an escort for? And I've never heard of a Lady escort."
Mithrandir chuckled, "I'd be careful with your words, Mister Dwalin. Lady Meara is not to be trifled with. Besides, she may be far more adept for this than any of us."
"So why not make her the 14th member of this company?" Thorin asked, annoyance in his voice.
Meara wiggled away from Fáno, and snuck back into the house. The door creaked quite loudly but the dwarves didn't seem to notice as they continued talking.
"I will not join your company officially." Meara spoke up, leaning against the rounded frame with a dry look on her face as she watched the handful of dwarves. "I've read the tales of Erebor, I would not want treasure tainted with the madness of a dragon. And the only thing I am truly after is the dragon itself. That is payment enough for me."
"You seem to be adept at sneaking up on people." A white haired dwarf said, giving her a curious look.
"Sneaking up on rambunctious dwarves is vastly different than sneaking up on a dragon." Meara shrugged, "Gandalf and I have agreed, I will only be acting as a scout and escort. If my help is needed with killing the dragon, I will help but the rest is between you and Mr. Baggins."
"What exactly is your skill, again lass?" This question belonged to the dwarf from earlier with the lady comment. He watched her with narrow eyes, his beard and hair seemed to blend together as the bottom half of his face contrasted starkly with his bald head. He had a gruff disposition that Meara found familiar.
She arched a brow at him, "I don't need to prove myself to you, Mister Dwalin. All you need to know is that I'm far better as your ally than your enemy."
Mithrandir spoke up, then. "I would not agitate the lady further, Dwalin. Even I would give pause with facing her wrath."
The dwarf gave a suspicious look to her, but Meara just gave him a blunt look. She turned her attention away from the dwarf in favor of looking at Thorin who stood over the mantle in Bilbo's sitting room humming quietly to himself. The dwarves gathered around, as if a story were about to be told and settled themselves with pipes around the fire, joining in on the humming. Then Thorin began to sing the tale of Erebor, of the misty mountains and the dragon fire.
Hearing it sung was far different from reading it. The story was haunting and reverberated through her bones, it was a foreboding feeling. With a shiver, Meara retreated to the front door, escaping back to the roof with Fáno. She settled herself next to the warg and shut her eyes, wondering if it were really the gold they wanted or the mountain.
She drifted to sleep, the baritone notes of the dwarves echoing in her ear.
Like the dwarves, she had awoken before the sun peeked over the mountain. Stretching, she and Fáno watched them gather ponies, which rested in the field across the road. There were no signs of Bilbo coming along, though if the look on Mithrandir's face were anything to go by, she expected he would be along soon.
"Do you have a horse, my lady?" One of the younger dwarves asked. He had blonde hair and a beard, with braids woven into the tresses at his temples.
"Thank you for the concern…?" She tilted her head, a questioning smile on her face.
"Fili, at your service," He bowed.
"Thank you, Fili," She fought the grin on her face. "I do not require a horse though."
"You'll walk the whole way?" Another younger dwarf trotted up to have his pony rest next to whom Meara was assuming was his brother. "Ah, Kili, at your service."
"Not the whole way. I'll run some of it." Meara smiled at their perturbed look, but didn't elaborate.
"Fáno, let's get a move on!" She called to the warg who'd been sulking up on the roof still, grumbling about dwarves and their rude behavior. Most of the dwarves blinked in surprise as he trotted up to her.
"Gandalf," She stepped over to the wizard. "We'll scout ahead, I'll send Fáno back to you if there are any obstacles ahead."
They jogged ahead on the road, making sure the way was clear. As the day grew later, she and Fáno rejoined the company, finding Bilbo had joined them before they had wandered too far from the Shire. Despite their slow trek, the company travelled a good distance before setting up camp on a cliffside, setting a small fire for light and warmth deep in a groove. As the dwarves began to settle, Meara left the group, walking quietly around their area and scenting the air. She rejoined the group as the light of the sun began to fade.
"The way ahead is clear," She told Mithrandir. "There are orcs in the far distance, but they will have no reason to come this way if we keep the fire low."
Mithrandir puffed on his pipe, grinning at her with a nod of thanks.
"You travel quickly and without a tire for one on foot." Balin, the older white-haired dwarf told her, giving her a smile. "We never caught sight of your form nor your beast."
"Please don't refer to me as a beast, I have a name." Fáno grumbled.
The dwarves who were still awake blinked in shock, save for Thorin and Mithrandir who knew the wargs origin.
"His name is Fáno, and he has thoughts and feelings just as you and your people do." Meara rubbed one of his ears consolingly. "He is like a son to me so any offense to him will be an offense to me. And you do not want me as your enemy."
"Very well, Lady Meara."
They sat in comfortable silence, Meara looking out over the cliffside with Fáno resting at her feet. A few of the dwarves were already snoring, dead asleep on the rocky ground. She was a little impressed at how soundly they slept. Well most of them, she thought as she spied Bilbo's smaller form get up with agitation and sneaked over towards his pony. He was a decent fellow, and Meara could see why Mithrandir favored him. Despite all his complaining he had that twinkle of excitement in his eye beneath all the worry.
Meara turned her attention back to the trees below, hearing the jostling and screeching of an orc pack in the distance. It grew louder.
"What was that?" Bilbo scurried closer to the fire. Fáno raised his head, alert, and growled low in his throat.
"Orcs." Fili answered, and proceeded to give a rather vivid description of the brutes to Bilbo. Kili joined in, "...quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood."
Meara glanced over her shoulder at the two as they chuckled.
"Do you think that's funny?" Thorin asked, before Meara could say anything. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"
The dwarf walked over from his spot in the camp, looking at the two dwarf brothers. The youngest, Kili, looked down and then up, a regrettable look on his face. "We didn't mean anything by it."
"No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world." Thorin stalked off and passed Mithrandir, towards the end of their camp.
The two dwarves looked to the fire with a forlorn look on each of their faces. Meara looked to Balin as he consoled the two, telling them the reason for Thorin's prickly demeanor towards orcs. It was a rather sad tale she thought as she listened in. Wind whispered against her skin, and she wondered if it was the wind that made her hair stand on end or the name of the orc Balin uttered. Azog the Defiler.
Meara didn't like the name, nor did she like the foreboding feeling that settled in the pit of her stomach. She turned her attention back to beyond their camp, eyes flitting from the valley below to the opposing cliffside in the distance. She wasn't expecting to see anything, but her eyes found the shape of a warg standing just at the forest edge on that cliff. There was an orc astride it.
Stretching as she normally would after sitting a long period, she casually walked over to Mithrandir, sitting beside the wizard. He puffed his pipe, sharing a knowing look with Balin at a passing comment Thorin made of the orc being long dead. Meara suspected the knowing look was because he wasn't, but she had something more important to share with him.
"Mithrandir," She whispered.
"Hmm?"
"Not to alarm you," She said in a low voice, "but there are eyes on us. Across the way."
He looked at her with worry, "How many?"
"I just saw the one, but there may be others."
Meara waited, watching him think. He let out a puff of smoke, "Stay close to the group, and be vigilant."
"I'll have Fáno flank on the left, and I'll take the right." Meara thought for a moment, "I don't know if they will come ahead of us or from behind. Should we tell the group?"
"Not quite yet," Mithrandir frowned as if he were thinking hard. "We may outrun them come daylight."
Meara disagreed with that opinion but nodded none the less. "If you say so."
Though Meara was on edge, the night went on without an issue and they continued on their journey, no signs of a group of orcs ahead of them, nor any sounds of them being followed close behind.
It rained heavily, though Meara didn't mind it much as she walked beside the line of ponies. It had been quite some time that Meara travelled through thick mud paths, the sounds of horses snorting and the smell of thick foliage. It was a nostalgic feeling and though she would have liked the rough and bumpy ride through the forest on a four wheeler or off roader, the smell of horse was more pleasant than the odor of motor oil.
"Here, Mr. Gandalf, can't you do something about this deluge?" The dwarf she suspected to be Dori called over the thick sound of rain.
Meara smothered a chuckle at the sarcastic remark the wizard gave.
"Are there others?" Bilbo asked, "Other wizards?"
"There are five of us, Saruman the White, the two blue wizards and….You know I've quite forgotten their names." Mithrandir gave a chuckle that sounded amazed, "And then there's Radagast. Radagast the Brown."
Meara let out her chuckle at the insult he gave the wizard at his question. Whether Bilbo Baggins knew it or not he certainly knew how to dish some shade.
"Are you certain you are okay walking like this, my lady?" The dwarf, Gloin, asked a rather concerned look on his face.
"I'm quite alright." Meara looked up at the dwarf slightly, careful not to let her hood fall from her head. "This is quite nostalgic for me actually. I haven't traipsed through the mud in quite a long time."
"You're a strange one lassie," He conceded.
"Oh, how right you are." Meara laughed, slowing slightly to check on Fáno in the gap of the line but he seemed to be doing fine, striking up a small conversation with Bilbo, surprisingly. She smiled and continued on, listening as much as she could over the rain. Much as she tried though, she could only hear a few yards away and anything else that may have caught her attention was drowned out by the horses and small chatter.
By midday, the rain ceased, the sun coming out and shining brightly. The weather was heating up as spring slowly began to turn to summer, the sun quickly drying their clothes. As they walked the hills Meara scouting ahead every few miles before rejoining the group, the dwarves would strike up a conversation here and there with her.
"Thorin says your family trade is hunting?" Balin called, curious as ever, "How does one such as yourself get into hunting? I've been around the human villages, usually the women keep to the hearth and gardens."
Meara laughed, "Young Thorin made the same presumptions about me. I am a hunter as my father is, a tracker greater than he, and I don't let anyone make my decisions for me, not since I was a child."
The older dwarf laughed, "You have quite the fighting spirit, my lady."
"That I do," Meara gave the dwarf a smile. "I get it from my father so he didn't have much of an argument to deny me anything."
"Was it your father who taught you?" Fili asked, a curious lilt in his voice.
"He taught me some things, but I learned mostly from his retainers and a few visiting master huntsmen."
Mithrandir turned and looked at her from his steed, a look of realization on his face. "Lady Meara, is your father a King?"
"Was...sort of-yes," Meara shrugged, "Our kingdom fell during my thirteenth summer though. The castle was raised to the ground so we never rebuilt the kingdom."
"You," Bilbo looked astounded, "You're a princess."
Fáno was grumbling again, "You never told me that."
Meara shook her head vigorously, "I am not a princess anymore. And it never came up Fáno, it's not relevant."
"But you are an heir, are you not?" Mithrandir asked.
"I am but not like that. When the kingdom fell, our people regrouped, we became a family clan instead. When," Meara rolled her eyes, "If my father ever passes away, I would inherit the title as the head of the clan. Not the same thing."
"Well, it's kind of the same thing," Fili said, the dwarves watching her with wide eyes.
Meara shook her head. "Still not royalty. And definitely not a princess. Far too stuffy and prim for my taste."
As they broke through the trees the conversation died down and they came upon a rocky hillside with an old farmhouse in ruin sitting at the top. Meara looked up at the sky, deeming only a couple hours before sundown.
"We'll camp here for the night." Thorin called out, slowing the ponies as he dismounted. Meara looked around, sniffing the air. There was something strange about this area. She couldn't quite put her finger on it.
She looked to Thorin and Mithrandir, "I'll scout the area, make sure there's nothing in the area."
Fáno stood tilting his head at her wary look. "Stay with the group Fáno. I'll be quick about this."
Or so she thought. She made a wide circle, around their camp, sniffing the air trying to pinpoint exactly what it was that she smelled. She hadn't smelled anything like it before and couldn't quite grasp the scent. It smelt heavy of earth, like stone, and faintly underneath that was a rancid smell, like decaying garbage. It was well beyond the sunset when she finally picked up an actual scent trail that didn't disappear. She followed it quickly, and immediately regretted it.
The scent led her to a rather large den, filled with bones and gore, and smelled so terrible it made her eyes water and nose and mouth burn. She turned away and quickly ran back to the camp ground, but the group was missing.
"Shit!"
Meara sniffed out a scent, finding Fáno's leading off into the trees where the ponies were kept. She followed quickly, finding him pacing back and forth as he looked toward the distance where a small glow of a fire was held.
"Fáno!" Meara ran over to him.
"Naneth," He scurried towards her, "The dwarves, they told me to wait here in case you came back. Trolls!"
"Follow me," Meara rushed for the fire, hearing the dwarves yelling. "Stay in the shadows Fáno. Quiet as a breeze."
Meara hid in the underbrush, listening and gaging the situation. Half the dwarves were tied to a spit, slowly being turned by three large trolls, their scent matching the trail from the den she saw. The other half of the dwarves were tucked into sacks with nothing but their heads poking out. Seriously, Meara seethed silently.
"...dawn ain't far away. Let's get a move on." One of the trolls spoke to the other two, likely the leader and smartest of the bunch, though if trolls in Arda were anything like the ones from Tir Na Nog, they weren't that bright. "I don't fancy being turned to stone."
Meara brightened, bless the soul of whoever deemed the intelligence of trolls be on the low end of the stick. And it looks like Bilbo was far more clever than he liked to let on as he stood and began to stall.
"Have you smelt them?" Bilbo wrinkled his nose, "You're going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up."
Meara covered her mouth, finding it highly inappropriate to find Bilbo hilarious when half the dwarves were being slow roasted. And they clearly didn't catch the little slip up the trolls gave about their weakness what with all their outraged yelling.
"The secret to cooking dwarf is…" Bilbo thought for a moment…"To skin them first!"
Meara pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Tom, get me the filleting knife." One of the trolls called.
Meara watched as they argued, too much noise at once to discern anything, before a troll picked one of the dwarves up to bite his head off.
"Not that one! He's infected!" Bilbo called, "He, uh, he has worms in his...tubes."
The troll dropped the dwarf in disgust.
"In fact, they all have parasites!" Bilbo continued, "Honestly, I wouldn't even risk it. I really wouldn't."
The dwarves at first argued against having parasites and then quickly conceded. The absurdity of the scene was honestly hilarious, but Meara held in the laughter, gripping the pommel of her sword to intervene if possible. But the sun was beginning to peek over the rock behind him and it was in that moment that Mithrandir's magic pulsed as his voice rang out.
"The dawn will take you all!"
He cracked his staff down on the stone splitting the boulder to blast the trolls with the morning sun. It was a sight to behold as they screamed and slowly turned to stone. Meara gave only a glance before going into the clearing, pulling at the ropes holding them together.
"Lady Meara! Have you been here this whole time?" Fili blinked in surprise as she helped him to his feet.
"Yes. Bilbo seemed to have it handled though." Meara went to the spit, helping the dwarves down one by one, ignoring the perturbed looks they gave her as she set them down. As they dressed, Meara followed behind Mithrandir, tilting her head as she listened.
"Where did you go off to?" Thorin asked Mithrandir.
"To look ahead." Mithrandir said eyebrows raised.
"What made you come back?"
Meara tilted her head again, wondering at the look the two shared.
"I thought you were supposed to be a lookout." Thorin said to Meara.
"Well, I've never come across a troll before." Meara rapped a knuckle against the stone of one. "Mithrandir, these are not native to this area are they?"
"They must have come down from the Ettenmoors." Mithrandir looked at the trolls, a look of worry beginning to climb into his eyes.
"Since when do Mountain Trolls venture this far south?"
"Not for an age." Mithrandir said, watching the trolls with a harder look. "Not since a darker power ruled these lands."
Meara didn't like the intensity of the silence that followed after that, but was thankful when Mithrandir continued. "They could not have moved in daylight."
Jerking her head, Meara nodded at Thorin. "There is a cave, that's what took me so long to check the area. It's this way."
She led them quickly to the cave, standing a distance back with Fáno, the stench too strong for their noses. Meara looked behind them, toward the forest...something was coming. She blocked out the noise echoing from the cave, focusing on the area around them. What was that? She sniffed the air, attempting to catch a scent on the breeze.
Hare?
"Something is in the distance. Coming swiftly!" Meara called, drawing her sword with a sharp twang.
Mithrandir was quick to give orders.
"Meara, what is it?"
"I'm not certain," She shook her head, "I'm only catching the scent of hare."
Mithrandir paused.
And then a sleigh pulled by giant hares burst through the underbrush, a madman yelling at the top of his lungs. Clearly, Arda had more surprises for her than she had expected to find.