Author's Note: This was the chapter that I've been the least happy with, so to make myself feel better about leaving this story be after I've completed it, I've re-written parts which may or may not have extended this chapter by a lot. I hope you all like it as much as I do now!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Laura.

The first thing Gandalf and I did when he rejoined us at the troll's camp was to untie the sacks and let out the dwarves. I went to Fili first, to finish unbinding him, and with his help we were able to free the rest of the company in no time.

As the dwarves sorted themselves out, brothers and cousins checking over one another, I did my best to stay out of the way. A few moments later I heard, rather than saw, Gandalf come to stand next to me.

"You were most impressive," Gandalf said raising his staff to knock it against the nose of the stone troll that I was standing next to.

I shot Gandalf a look, anger simmering below my skin. Finally, after a long moment I said exactly what I had been thinking during the entire fiasco. "You shouldn't have left us."

"I knew you would have everything well in hand," Gandalf replied, turning to look fully at me. I was surprised to see something that looked like either regret or guilt flit across his face before it smoothed out to his usual expression of detached pleasantness.

That wasn't exactly what he'd said as he left. That wasn't the impression he'd given at all.

"I really didn't," I said hotly, feeling embarrassed as I tightened my grip on Fili's knife. Gandalf's attempt at soothing me only stoked my frustration both at my own mistakes and his. "You knew they were there and you left us anyway."

I didn't need to look around to know that we were beginning to attract the attention of several of the dwarves. I couldn't blame them- I'd be eavesdropping too.

"My dear," Gandalf said, low and soft, softer than I'd heard from him so far. Maybe I'd manage to shame him. I'd never find out though as I heard someone approach behind me, causing Gandalf to go quiet.

A second later, coming to a stop next to me Thorin said, "Where did you go to, if I may ask?" I spared a glance over and saw Thorin looked caught between annoyance and relief. It threw me, which I tried to cover by glaring up at Gandalf. It was disconcerting to find Thorin and I on the same page.

Gandalf made a soft thoughtful noise. "To look ahead. There are many dangers that draw close, I fear."

"What brought you back?" Thorin pressed while I resisted the urge to put my hands on my hips. If I wasn't afraid of slicing myself further with Fili's knife, I definitely would have given in.

"Looking behind," Gandalf replied as if it were obvious. I gritted my teeth, trying desperately not to snap at him. "Nasty business, still you're all in one piece."

"Yes, I agree," I said slowly, hoping to reign in my temper by focusing on who I was here. Or rather who I wasn't. "Nasty. If only we could have avoided it entirely."

It was Gandalf's turn to look annoyed which was viciously satisfying. "Did I not warn you of what may be lurking in these woods, Thorin Oakenshield?"

Now I turned my eyes to Thorin, whose face was stony. Well, well.

"What good does your advice do us, Gandalf," Thorin wanted to know, voice disarmingly level, "when it comes wrapped in riddles and lacking in whys."

Gandalf was looking thunderous now, which was quite frankly a little terrifying and even though I agreed with Thorin, this probably would end badly if it continued.

"Are there any more trolls?" I asked instead, in possibly the most obvious attempt to change the subject anyone had ever seen.

It worked though, thankfully, and neither Thorin or Gandalf called me out on it. Gandalf looked almost amused, the furrow of his brow not disappearing completely but definitely lessened. Thorin looked satisfied, crossing his arms, probably pleased that he had made a point that Gandalf couldn't dispute.

"I should hope not," Gandalf finally replied after a long pause, making me want to sigh. Not exactly the reassurance I was aiming for.

Gandalf turned away from us, glancing around the clearing, and actually elaborated, "Mountain trolls should not be so far south. They must have come down from the Ettenmoors, though why I cannot say. They have not been in these lands for an Age, not since a darker power ruled."

I couldn't help but shiver at Gandalf's last words. The darkness again. But the darkness had been weak, Gandalf had said. I could only hope it would stay that way.

Gandalf didn't seem to want an answer from either of us though and I could see his eyes had narrowed in thought. "Trolls cannot move in daylight."

Thorin seemed to pick up on whatever Gandalf was thinking. "There must be a cave nearby."

He turned away, shouting to the others with a gesture to head back to camp and pack up.

The dwarves did as they were told, brightening when Thorin explained to them that a troll hoard was probably close. I mulled his words over in my head before realizing. Hoard. Treasure. Nice.

After gathering our gear and seeing to the ponies, we began our search. Or really, if I was being honest, the dwarves began their search. I didn't think I'd ever been so tired. Whatever adrenaline hobbits had had long since left me and what remained was a foggy mind and even more stumbling feet than usual. Even a fifteen-minute catnap would be a blessing.

Luckily, less than an hour of searching, Nori found it up higher in the hill, hidden by bushes. Gandalf didn't hesitate in entering, followed closely by Thorin, Dwalin, Nori, Gloin, and Bofur.

I, however, gave it a hard pass- I could smell it even from where I was. Instead, I sat on a nearby fallen log, balanced Fili's knife carefully on my knee, and took my first look at my hands since I had sliced them up. I grimaced. It was difficult to tell underneath the dried blood and dirt but from what I could see the cuts weren't deep per say. One stretched clean across the top of my left palm while several smaller cuts littered all of my fingers.

I wasn't the only one to notice. No sooner had I sat down and started to exam them, that Oin approached with a bag in hand.

"Show me, lad," He demanded, already opening his pack and pulling out various bottles and bundles.

I was too tired to argue and actually a bit touched that Oin had noticed. I knew, thanks to Gandalf, that Oin was their healer, but I was still surprised by his efficiency. It felt like between one breath and the next that Oin had my hands cleaned and my cuts covered with a thin layer of a strong-smelling ointment.

"We'll need to wrap those," Oin warned me, pushing himself to his feet with an alarming number of joints popping in the process. "Find me and we will do so before we leave."

I blinked up at him, surprised at both his care and the offer, "Thank you."

Oin waved me off, already repacking his bag. "Don't forget."

"Yes," I agreed, resting my wrists on my knees, careful of the blade beneath one of my forearms, with my palms facing the sky. Satisfied, Oin moved away to leave me blissfully alone in my exhaustion.

But, of course, that couldn't last long.

I felt two bodies press up next to me, one on each side. I didn't even have to look up to know who it was.

"Hello Fili," I said wearily, wincing as I offered Fili's knife to him, hilt first. I'd already forgotten about my hands and realized I'd now smeared ointment along the blade. It probably was a lovely companion to the dried blood on the hilt. "Hello, Kili."

"Mister Baggins," Fili responded with a nod, reaching out and, with a surprising amount of carefulness, removing the knife from my fingers. If he was annoyed at its condition, he didn't look it.

Kili shifted next to me. "How are you feeling?"

Like I'd been run over by a semitruck, thanks, was my automatic response but I at least had some forethought to realize they wouldn't understand the reference.

"Fine," I told them instead. "And you?"

"Fine," Kili assured me quickly.

Glad that we were finished exchanging pleasantries, I fell silent.

Fili and Kili, however, had other ideas.

"We wanted to thank you, Master Baggins." Fili said after a few beats of silence.

I glanced up at him, his face was uncharacteristically serious. "What for?"

"You did your best to help us," Kili explained, a strange undercurrent running through his voice, "You listened to us. Even though you could have. You could have-"

"Done better?" I offered, which rewarded me twin looks of horror. If I had more energy I would have been shocked in turn.

"Been killed," Kili hissed out in whisper, which did nothing to disguise his unhappiness.

I blinked slowly, processing, as Fili pushed on with a frown of his own, "You have proven yourself a valuable friend. Not just to us, but to the Company. You were very brave."

I smiled wanly. "You're too kind."

"It's the truth, Mister Baggins!" Kili insisted, nudging my shoulder with his, "It was clever of you, to get free."

I shook my head, because honestly it would have been better if I had never been caught at all. Hoping to never think or talk of it again, I said, "If you consider me your friend then, please, call me Bilbo."

"Yes, Bilbo," They chorused together. I let out a laugh that surprised all three of us. Fili and Kili looked more pleased than I had ever seen them. I felt a rush of something – amusement? Fondness? I resolved not to look too closely at it. It would take too much brainpower.

Not more than a minute or two later, Gandalf and Thorin emerged. Fili and Kili jumped up at the sight of their uncle, eyes locked on the sword he was carrying.

As Fili and Kili move away to greet Thorin, Gandalf came towards me.

"Laura," Gandalf said quietly, pressing something long and thin into my hands. I took it automatically, not registering what it was at first. "Here, this is about your size."

When I looked down my stomach dropped. It was a blade. A weapon. Though it was the size of a dagger to him it would be much better suited as a sword for me.

"No," I said immediately, trying to offer it back.

Gandalf sighed, ignoring my outstretched arm. "I may not always be nearby, Laura. Tonight proved that rather plainly, I think you'll agree. This blade is of elvish make, it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are near. A handy thing to have, don't you think?"

"Gandalf," I said slowly, not giving up hope and keeping the blade out and on offer to be taken back, even if it was covered in ointment now, "What exactly are you expecting us to run into?"

Gandalf was quiet for a long moment. "I do not know," Gandalf admitted. "But as I said, you were brought here for a reason. And I am afraid whatever that might be, it will not come without danger following."

I swallowed nervously. That was way too ominous for my liking.

"What good would this do me when I don't know how to use it?" I hissed back, trying to rally, "I'd hurt someone. Not that I would – what I mean is that I never want to-"

Gandalf frowned but his eyes were full of understanding, "And I hope you will never have to, but your safety is paramount, my dear. You must do what is necessary - for yourself and for Bilbo. Have faith as I do."

I stared over Gandalf's shoulder at where Thorin looked to be scolding Fili and Kili, both of them had shuffling feet and eyes trained on the ground in contrition. I wondered what on earth for.

Shaking my head, I tried desperately to calm the anxiety that was turning slowly in my gut as my hands gripped the blade's sheath tightly, hoping to convince Gandalf otherwise. Maybe if I reminded him of my so-called hobbit magic?

Then there was a noise, a rustle not dissimilar to the sounds the trolls made when they crashed through the forest.

My stomached dropped. Not more trolls, please.

"Gandalf?" I asked in desperation.

Gandalf was already drawing his sword, calling out, "Hurry now! Arm yourselves and stay together!"

The Company began to close ranks, Gandalf taking point with sword and staff in each hand, as if to be the one to either take or deliver the first strike.

"Bilbo!" Kili called, flanking me, bow at the ready. Fili joined us on my other side, both swords drawn.

I unsheathed my own sword, nervous at the weight of it in my hand.

It was only a few moments later distance whatever it was finally burst through the trees, shouting wildly. I stepped around Kili to get a better look.

What I found made me stop and stare. A team of huge rabbits pulling what looked like a sled, no, a toboggan. Perched on the back of the toboggan was a man, tall and gangly like Gandalf, in brown robes and a hat that looked like a cross between Gandalf's and Bofur's. Was I actually dreaming now? Had I fallen asleep and not realized?

"Ah," Gandalf said, sounding pleasantly surprised. "Radagast."

I glanced around, relieved to see that the dwarves seemed equally unsure about this new man– Radagast? At least I wasn't missing something which was a nice change of pace.

Gandalf, though, had no reservations, and drew closer to Radagast, sheathing his word. "What brings you to this part of the world?"

Around me, the dwarves sheathed their weapons as well but I noticed many of them kept their hands on the hilts. We all watched as Gandalf interrogated Radagast and I could feel myself zoning out again, exhaustion creeping back into my mind. That is until I saw Gandalf reach into Radagast's mouth and deposited an actual stick insect into Radagast's palm, both of whom seemed unruffled by his find.

I turned away, knowing I was unable to keep my face impassive and that I was finally looking as flabbergasted as I'd actually been feeling since arriving here. I wound up accidentally locked eyes with Thorin, who I'd ended up next to of all people.

Unwilling to be the one to break, I stared back at him for longer than was probably polite- and truthfully fueled on by the fact that Thorin wasn't looking away either- but I was so done. Good God why was Middle Earth so weird?

It was only when Gandalf declared, "I need a moment with my colleague," That we both turned back to Gandalf and Radagast.

I turned the word over in my mind. Colleague? I turned over the word in my mind. Colleague. The, well, unique hat. The robes. The staff. The quite frankly odd personality. The bug in his mouth. The giant rabbits. Realization dawned on me. Radagast was a wizard.

Well. That explained a lot, to be honest.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Thorin looked like he wanted to protest but said nothing. A smart move, honestly. If Gandalf was a model example, then trying to get anything out of two wizards that'd actually be helpful would be like pulling teeth.

I abandoned watching them speak further, knowing it wouldn't gain me much, and instead settled on leaning against a tree to try and lessen the effort it took to remain upright. I couldn't say how long it was that I slumped there, but it was enough time for the others to lose interest too, all of them breaking into smaller groups.

It was only when a warbling howl echoed through the trees that I felt a bolt fear run through me so hard and fast, it made me straighten back up on my feet.

"What was that?" I found myself asking, voice shaking.

I didn't get an answer, because behind us was wood snapping and a giant creature, that in another life could have been a dog, could have been a wolf, came barreling towards us. It came so close to me I felt its tailwind before it pounced on Dori, knocking back Bofur and Nori. Before the creature could right itself, a curved blade came down on its neck, killing it.

Thorin pulled his sword free just as another came from behind, only to be knocked back by an arrow from Kili and finished off by Dwalin's axe to the head.

I was going to throw up.

"Warg scouts," Thorin declared to us. "Which means an orc pack is not far behind."

Orc pack. Orcs. Oh my God.

I could feel myself panicking and I hardly noticed Gandalf and Thorin trade words, not even really hearing Ori's even worse news that the ponies were gone. Myrtle. It was only when Radagast told us to run, swearing that he would distract them, that I was finally able get my breathing under control.

I let Bofur grab hold of my arm pulling me toward where the others were starting to move. We all watched together as Radagast mounted his toboggan and took off like a shot, barely a blur through the trees.

And then we started to run.

What followed after was even worse than the trolls in my opinion. I wondered if I should've been grateful to have something knock them from first place, but a part of me also wondered if this hellish game of cat and mouse would actually be the worst thing to happen to me. Middle Earth was escalating quickly.

No, I decided, as I did my best to ignore a stitch in my ribs from the endless running across the rock-strewn plains that neighbored the trolls' forest, I was not grateful. While less of a confrontation than my time with the trolls, being chased by giant wolverines and their blood-thirsty riders was still horrific. I wondered what my nightmares would be like once I finally got to go home.

The worst moment by far was when Gandalf had disappeared for several heart-stopping minutes, during which the wargs, if I was remembering Thorin's name for them right, managed to encircle us, our backs to a large outcrop.

That was the end of my time in Middle Earth, I had thought. Hunted down by a pack of wolves. I could feel my panic flowing through my every vein, the last of what little adrenaline I had left spiked, but then the next few moments were a blur. I remembered Gandalf shouting, the feeling of relief coursing through me just as quickly as the adrenaline, the dwarves shouting and closing ranks, Dwalin grabbing my shoulder, dragging me, and shoving me roughly between two of the rocks in the outcrop. I remembered falling down what I could only call a slide and being pulled to my feet by Gandalf with the rest of the dwarves following me soon after, one by one.

Gandalf was already there, ushering me through a crevice in the rock. Behind us I could hear a horn blaring loudly. And then we were walking again. Our pace was fast but not frantic. And I could no longer hear the screams of the orcs or howls of the wolves. But I could hear running water, the dwarves' boots against the ground. And then, suddenly, the crevice opened into a cliffside.

I needed to rest, just for a moment, so I did my best to stumble out of the way against one of the rock walls, letting the dwarves pass me. But to my surprise they didn't go much farther, only dispersing along the cliff's edge enough for everyone to exit the crevice. I decided this could be my last rally of the day, or maybe of the rest of my life, and pushed myself off the wall to join the others.

"The valley of Imladris," Gandalf announced to us from the front of the group as I pushed my way through the dwarves to see what had stopped us. "Rivendell in the common tongue. Here lies the last Homely House east of the sea."

It knocked the breath out of me, my first look at Rivendell. It was like nothing I had ever seen back home, not even close, I couldn't think of a thing to compare it to. It seemed to glow, to hum, with the mist of the waterfalls that ran through only seemed to make it shine brighter, the air to shimmer.

I couldn't have been sure that it was real, but I could feel my exhaustion begin to fade, my nerves finally ebbing for the first time since yesterday. I knew thanks to Gandalf that magic existed here but Rivendell was the first thing I'd come across that truly made me feel it.

"Are we really going there?" I asked before I could stop myself, turning to Gandalf.

"So we are, Bilbo," Gandalf said, looking pleased. "Rivendell is the house of Lord Elrond, an old friend."

An old friend, like Bilbo was supposed to be. I wonder if Bilbo knew Elrond, too. For my own sake, I hoped not.

Thorin moved to Gandalf's other side, looking quite the opposite. He sounded almost betrayed as he demanded, "This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemies."

Gandalf stared back impassively, continuing pointedly, "And valuable ally." Thorin shook his head even as Gandalf kept going, "Who may have the answers to our questions."

I glanced between the two. Now I had questions. I didn't even know where to start.

While still unhappy, whatever Gandalf meant, Thorin understood. He said nothing else, allowing Gandalf to shepherd us all down the narrow path that led towards Rivendell. Gandalf took the time to lecture us, as if we were children, on our manners and the importance of leaving all the talking to him. I chose, for my own sanity, to believe he wasn't speaking to me.

We eventually reached the edge of a river and crossed over a thin small bridge, passing two flanking statues, to take our first steps into Rivendell. Though I was awestruck by the beauty of such a place, the dwarves were not. They stayed close together, eyeing their surroundings with obvious suspicion. I wondered what they knew that I didn't.

Ahead of us was a staircase carved into the stone and floating down it was the first elf I had ever seen.

He was beautiful, ethereal. Tall and willowy with long dark hair pulled away to reveal pointed ears, which I remembered suddenly I also now had. His face was handsome, smooth, and wearing a long-suffering expression. His robes billowed behind him as he came to a stop in front of Gandalf.

"Mithrandir," The elf said, head dipped in greeting.

"Ah," Gandalf sighed, looking pleased. "Lindir."

To my right I could hear Thorin and Dwalin muttering about "staying sharp."

Gandalf and the elf fell into conversation but not in a language I recognized. It was flowing and smooth and easy on the ears, and didn't sound like any language I'd heard at home. I tried not to let the fact that I couldn't understand them bother me. The dwarves around me scoffed. Maybe they didn't understand either.

I turned my attention to the stonework around us. There had been twin statues that flanked the bridge we had crossed, tall and white and both very similar and completely different from the pictures of Greek statues I had seen in one of my college classes. It wasn't until I heard a familiar horn blare that I tuned back into the others.

The dwarves moved immediately, their weapons at the ready, closing into a tight circle. I jumped in surprise when Bofur grabbed my shoulder but let him pull me stumbling next to Balin. Dismayed, I watched as a large group of horse riders, who were probably soldiers given their armor, crossed our only escape and began circling us.

Eventually they came to a halt and one rider dismounted, removing his helmet. It was another elf; this one was older than Lindir but with the same dark hair.

"Lord Elrond," Gandalf called, beaming.

Elrond greeted Gandalf warmly, pulling him into an embrace and he too began speaking in the other language. It was kind of rude. I supposed the dwarves had been doing it regularly around me since we met, but somehow this was more irritating. Maybe it was because they were so obviously talking about us. Or maybe it was because we'd now have to depend on Gandalf for any translations, if he bothered at all.

After a few minutes though, their conversation slowed and Gandalf gestured at us with a flourish, causing Elrond to turn to us for the first time. His eyes were dark, good humor fading as his gaze sharpened to look us over, his mouth not-quite frowning.

And then I made the mistake of locking eyes with him. Something else creeped into his eyes, like he was seeing right through me, like Gandalf had back at Bag End. His eyebrows were furrowing. I glanced away quickly and then back up to confirm that, yes, I was the cause. The hair on my neck and arms rose and perhaps I was imagining it but so did the hair covering my feet. I found that I couldn't look away again.

The dwarves, to their credit, seemed to notice too, and almost as one they all moved closer, Nori and Bombur moving in front of me deliberately, breaking my line of sight entirely, until I pushed up onto my tiptoes to peer over Bombur's shoulder.

Elrond moved so subtly, it was hardly more than a sway but it was enough for Gandalf to lay his hand on his upper arm and say with what I suspected was false cheer, "Ah, I realize my friend here must be an unusual sight, Lord Elrond."

There was a beat in which I wondered if Elrond would address Gandalf's words at all.

"Indeed. It has been many years since a halfling has found their way to us," Elrond finally replied. Then he raised his voice, only slightly, granted, but enough to make the point that he meant it to carry over to me, "You are of course welcome, Master Hobbit."

And then, to my immeasurable relief Elrond turned to Thorin and said, "As are you and your kin, Thorin, son of Thrain."

Thorin didn't glare but he was definitely unhappy. "I don't believe we have met."

Elrond, to his credit, seemed unaffected by Thorin's terse response. "You have your grandfather's bearing," He told Thorin, "I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."

"Indeed?" Thorin replied, "He made no mention of you."

Well, at least I knew now that our meeting in Bilbo's garden was the rule not the exception. It made me feel a little better.

Elrond's expression didn't change as he said, "You are all welcome here. I would be honored to have you at my table."

I sighed in relief as the dwarves grumbled around me, looking wary, even after they agreed and we followed Gandalf, Elrond, and Lindir up the stairs to our rooms. We would be somewhere safe.

A few hours later, we found ourselves at dinner.

It was open to the air, with tall pillars and arches covered in vines encircled us. We'd been split into three tables, with Thorin, Balin, and Gandalf with Elrond at one and the rest of us between the other two. Around us were more elves, some of whom brought out our food and filled our cups while others played music for us. It wouldn't have been my first pick, flutes and harps, but it was lovely all the same.

The dwarves themselves were different from how they were when they helped themselves to dinner at Bag End. Quieter, withdrawn, more on edge. It occurred to me as soon as I saw their faces once the food had been served – a plate mostly of what I assumed was a salad with no dressing, and white mushrooms– that it was because they were uncomfortable. I wondered if it had anything to do with how we were greeted at the bridge. It certainly hadn't felt like we'd been welcome, though Elrond's words did help, and this meal was definitely questionable. But maybe it was an elf thing? I still hadn't figured out the dwarves.

But I resigned myself to try not to think too hard over it. Instead, I occupied my time at dinner with eating as many of the little cakes the elves had brought to our table as possible without the others noticing. I had seven.

After dinner, Gandalf, Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin all disappeared with Elrond, and the rest of us were escorted back to our full wing of bedrooms which overlooked a truly impressive garden. I wanted very badly to explore it. The dwarves wasted no time investigating their rooms further, so I took it upon myself to thank our guides, who gave me a polite nod in return before leaving, their footsteps near-silent.

When I finally opened the door to my room, I was greeted by an open structure that had its own view of the garden below. The railings were miniatures of the pillars I had seen around Rivendell and covered in flowering vines.

It was perfect.

I turned, ready to close my door and finally collapse when the sound of movement and someone speaking caught my attention. I frowned, watching a long shadow pass through the doorway. Unable to resist, I moved to open the door fully and immediately locked eyes with Kili, who was helping Fili move what looked like a twin piece to the carved wooden bench that sat at the end of my bed. Kili forced them to stop, even if it caused him to let out a grunt as the end of the bench wedged into his stomach with the force of it.

When Kili opened his mouth and Fili turned to look at me, I held up both hands in surrender. I didn't want to know. Kili and Fili laughed, calling out a good night to me, before continuing their journey to the end of our hallway, which led to an open overlook outstretched alongside the gardens. I could see another half dozen dwarves already gathered, while the rest were leaving their own rooms with either more furniture or their packs in tow.

Shaking my head, moved back into my room and closed the door decisively. Dwarves.

It took me a few tries, as usual, to remove my suspenders – which I decided I hated after so many nights of struggling with them – and climb into the oversized bed. I lay back, staring up at the pale canopy above me, my eyelids already growing heavy.

Despite, or maybe because of, the voices of the dwarves drifting over my balcony, I feel into a deep sleep before I could think to roll over.

It was the most restful sleep I had since arriving.

My sleep was so deep, in fact, that when I woke up it was to the brightness of a midday sun. I rolled over to stare out over my balcony's railings, taking in the valley that Rivendell was nestled in. I watched the green trees in the distance move almost like a wave in the wind, listened to the distant roar of the waterfalls we were surrounded with. And I could hear dwarves, if I concentrated hard enough, their voices carrying over the garden.

It was lovely.

But I knew I couldn't stay in bed. If the dwarves' behavior the previous day was any indication, they'd want to leave as soon as possible. It wouldn't surprise me at all to hear from Thorin or Balin that we'd be leaving that day.

Knowing it couldn't be avoided, I rolled myself out of bed, stumbling only a little from how high it was for me. I glanced around, pleased to find a pitcher of water and a goblet on the side table that I must have missed the night before. I drank my fill before collecting my suspenders that I'd forgotten on the floor and went to work putting them back on. I only twisted them twice, a new record, before I slung my red coat back on, left behind my waistcoat, and pulled open my door.

I turned to the right, not bothering to close my door behind me, and followed the hallway out to the open overlook where I could see every dwarf was accounted for. Gandalf, however, was absent.

It wasn't until I pulled up beside Dori and offered a quiet good morning, that the others noticed me. Dori actually jumped at my words. Huh. Maybe Gandalf really wasn't kidding about my hobbit-magic.

He recovered quickly, though, and offered a polite, "Good day, Master Baggins."

I resisted the urge to shuffle my feet. I'd slept far later than I meant to, "Yes," I corrected, "Good day."

I glanced around, then, taking my first good look at our surroundings. The dwarves' bedrolls were scattered around as were their packs. A pile of still-glowing embers was in the middle of them all, with a collection of wood nearby that I realized was composed entirely of shattered pieces of furniture.

"Did you all," I started to ask slowly, wondering if it was worth it, "sleep out here?"

Dori gave me a narrow-eyed look, "Of course."

Of course.

I nodded, deciding not to comment further. If that's what they wanted to do who was I to stop them. Though it would've been nice if they'd refrained from destroying the furniture. Elrond, for all his unflappability so far, probably wouldn't be pleased.

Bombur saved me then, waving me over to where he, Bofur, and Bifur were settled in. Both Bofur and Bifur appeared to be whittling something. I resisted the urge to ask if the wood they were using were scavenged from the furniture remains. I had a feeling I already knew the answer.

"Hello, Master Baggins," Bombur said in his soft voice, "Did you sleep well?"

I smiled, a shot of warmth going through me at Bombur's question. Given what I'd seen of the dwarves' manners so far, it was asked genuinely rather than out of politeness. "Maybe too well, Master Bombur."

Bombur returned my smile. "I'm afraid you've just missed our midday meal."

"Aye," Bofur said putting his whittling down before reaching behind him, "Afraid there's not much left. We're all still a mite famished from last night. But we saved you something!"

Bofur pushed to his feet, a familiar bowl in his hands, one of the bowls that we'd been using during our many nights under the stars. Bofur pressed it into my hands before returning to his place beside Bifur. I glanced down. There were two sausages, that I knew instantly were from their own stores, blackened slightly on each side just the way I had come to like when Bombur cooked for us over a fire. Beneath them I could see a bed of slightly squished berries.

"Thank you," I said, quieter than I meant to, but I was touched. Bombur must have heard, because he ducked his head shyly.

"Thank you," I said again louder this time, rewarded with a smile from Bofur. Bifur appeared nonplussed but that wasn't, I'd learned, unusual, "I appreciate it very much."

Bofur waved it off, tool back in his hand, but he hadn't stopped grinning. "Don't see much worth in what the elves had on offer this morning myself but given your pantry-"

I shot him a look, which only seemed to amuse him more, but he didn't continue. The three of them were gracious enough to let me eat my meal with them and it wasn't until after I was finished that I asked, "When are we leaving?"

Bofur glanced up at me from his whittling briefly before his attention returned to it, "The moon's not right. The map can't be read for a week still."

I frowned. That gave me even more questions. Why did we need the map at all if we were returning to their home? What did the moon have to do with it?

But, just as important, my mind turned over the rest of Bofur's words. I tried not to let my excitement show, knowing the dwarves didn't feel the same. But a week. It was too good to be true.

I nodded, thanking all three of them, before turning to our hallway, eager to start exploring Rivendell.

But I was stopped by Oin, who scolded me in a way that starkly reminded me of Gandalf, about the cuts on my hands. I waited long enough for him to apply the ointment, wrap my hands, and bestow the canister on me with strict instructions to apply it twice a day until it was gone, before he finally released me.

The next several days, as we waited for the crescent moon to appear as the map had magic to it that could only be seen with that specific light- a detail shared with me by Gandalf at our next dinner together- did little to improve the dwarves' mood. I only overheard bits and pieces from them when I'd return with them after dinner, but apparently, they had managed to destroy the plumbing, "accidentally" broke several vases, destroyed not one but three training areas, and bathed in an actual fountain.

I couldn't quite grasp the reason why, and knew even if I did, I wouldn't be the one able to convince them to stop since not even Gandalf appeared to try. But, I figured that if Elrond hadn't kicked us out yet, it may not have been the worst he'd ever seen. Though how that could be, I couldn't imagine.

I also couldn't figure out how that could be worth their time when there was so much beauty in Rivendell. The gardens in particular fascinated me to no end. Every morning I would choose a new direction to go into, and I'd find a new section to explore. Some butted up against the cliffs and waterfalls, while others extended out over the valleys. The flowers were lovely and always seemed in bloom, the trees magnificent and huge, and the greenery lush. I wondered if it was a hobbit instinct, to be surrounded by green things. Gandalf had said hobbits loved things that grew. I was apparently no exception, even as an imposter.

I was enjoying my time in Rivendell and, in all honesty, wished that we didn't have to leave. It wouldn't be so unbearable being stuck in Middle Earth if I could stay.

The week passed so quickly that it was only the dwarves' uncontainable excitement that morning at breakfast, that I realized it was finally the day of the crescent moon.

Knowing my time in Rivendell was at its end, I forwent lunch, choosing instead to wander aimlessly. Sometimes I found myself in what appeared to be unused wings, other times I found myself back in one of the gardens.

As the sun had just begun to set in earnest, I found myself in my most favorite: a sprawling landscape of trees that jutted out into the valley, giving me a truly breathtaking view of the forest and river below. The sound of one of the waterfalls, that I learned actually ran below the garden and spilled over the cliff beneath the balcony, was soothing and a welcome white noise.

I couldn't be sure of how long I sat there but it was for at least a few hours, long enough for the sun to set completely and for the moon to rise high. I realized that I'd missed dinner completely and wondered if the dwarves had saved me something a second time. On my way back, though, was when I ran into trouble. All the hallways, floor levels, and gardens looked the same to me in the dark and I'd let myself get lost. I was just about to resign myself to pounding on doors to find someone to lead me back to the others when I turned a corner only to find Nori hidden deep in the shadows. I watched a flash of something gold disappear into his coat. Oh, absolutely not-

I cleared my throat pointedly. Nori, to his credit, didn't jump. But he did freeze in place, eyes assessing. I could see the moment he spotted me, his shoulders relaxing and hand moving away from where I had learned he kept a dagger in his sleeve.

"Evening Master Baggins," Nori greeted me with a nod.

I raised a hand to greet him in return. "Lovely night, isn't it?"

Nori made a soft noise in agreement before offering, "Indeed."

The silence that followed was awkward as I weighed the pros and cons of calling Nori out. Would it even be worth it?

I decided, even as Nori and I continued our staring contest, that it wasn't. I didn't need to rock the boat after the disaster I'd caused with the trolls even if I knew I'd have Gandalf in my corner.

"Listen," I said slowly, hoping Nori would realize I wasn't going to rat him out, "I hate to bother you, but you wouldn't happen to know where our rooms are, would you?"

Nori's eyes narrowed, "Aye."

I nearly rolled my eyes at his short response and settled for a more direct, "Can you take me there?"

Nori sighed, looking put out, but he nodded anyway. He brushed past me and motioned down the hall I had come from, walking quickly. Startled, I hurried to follow him, Nori's longer legs giving him an advantage. We walked for some time before Nori finally led me down a familiar outdoor walkway and to our wing. At the end of the hallway I could see the usual fire had been lit.

We both paused, as if waiting for the other to speak. Nori's eyes were glowing, much like a cat's, in the darkness. I debated internally whether to ask the question that had been on my mind during our walk back to the rooms. Finally, I simply gave in. "Can I ask you something?"

Nori's head tilted in what I assumed was a nod of permission. I was going to take it that way.

I watched what little of Nori's face I could see closely, "Did you take anything from Bag End the night we met?"

There was a long pause.

Nori was quiet for another stretch but then finally replied, surprising me. "Rule to live by, Master Baggins: never steal from one of your own. Has a way of coming back to you."

I couldn't decide whether or not I believed him. What little I had learned of Nori during our travels wasn't reassuring. But in the end, I realized there wasn't much I could do to find out, short of going through Nori's things. But even that felt way too far.

I nodded, moving in tandem with Nori to continue towards the others. "All right."

There was a roar from the others who were circled around the fire as we drew closer. It took me a moment to realize it was from happiness. Thorin was in the middle of the circle, holding out what looked like a key, his eyes gleaming and his expression one of pride.

Confused, I watched as Nori picked his way through the others to collapse next to Ori. Ori turned immediately to his brother with a smile, and ducked his head, presumably to fill Nori in.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Balin approaching me. He was smiling.

"Good evening," I said automatically, hoping I didn't look as lost as I felt.

"Master Baggins," Balin replied, looking relieved, his smile making his face look much younger, "We have received glad news." I smiled back as he continued, "We now have a way into Erebor. A secret entrance that will appear at the last light of Durin's Day."

"That is glad news," I said slowly, turning over his words in my mind but still unable to make much sense of them.

When I didn't say anything more Balin pressed on, watching me more closely than I'd like, "It shall make your job much easier, I expect, Master Baggins."

Why were we using a back door at all, was my first question. Did we not have a way in before and why not, was my second and third. Why did it sound like I was going in alone, was my fourth. But I could feel not just Balin's eyes on me now, but several of the others' and I realized my questions weren't the ones to ask if I wanted to keep up Gandalf's illusion that I had even an inkling of what was happening around me at any given time.

Instead, I asked, "Durin's Day?"

Balin smiled kindly, his gaze softening. "The start of our new year. It is when the last sun of autumn and the first moon of winter are together in the sky. Then and only then will the door appear, at last light."

"Ah, I see," I replied, trying to gather my confidence. "That is good to know, Master Balin, thank you."

Balin nodded, eyes sharpening again for a brief terrifying moment, before he laid his hand on my shoulder, heavy and warm. Then, to my relief he moved closer to the others just as Nori, Dwalin, Bofur, Fili, and Kili broke into song in dwarvish, and judging by their grins and Balin's shaking head it was probably inappropriate.

I could feel a smile tug at my mouth. I gave them all one last glance, already turning away before my eyes met Thorin's. My stomach dropped. How long had he been watching me? Like Nori's had, his eyes were gleaming in the low light where he had positioned himself to watch over the others, and his face was, as always, stern.

I skittered my eyes away, hoping that Thorin wouldn't think much of it, before disappearing into the shadows of the hallway. I climbed one of the many flights of stairs slowly, letting the noises of the dwarves fade as I moved away. Below was my second favorite garden, lit with delicate lanterns that made the water shimmer and the flowers to take on an otherworldly glow.

From where I had stopped on the middle landing of the stairs, I could see two figures, which I realized after a moment were Gandalf and Elrond below in the garden, their heads bowed and deep in conversation. As they drew near, I could pick up snatches of their discussion: our quest.

I settled in by crossing my arms and leaning against the landing's wall and prepared to eavesdrop. I figured if it was so secret, then they'd go elsewhere.

But then, as I parsed through their words, I realized that it wasn't exactly their secrets. They were talking about Thorin. Discussing- honestly it felt just shy of gossiping, really - what it would mean if the dwarves were successful – if we were successful – in getting home. And what that would mean for Thorin.

Madness I heard them say. Not just in Thorin, but in his grandfather. They spoke like their fears were well-founded, like it was an inevitability.

But in Thorin? Pride, yes. Being a jerk, a little, sometimes. But madness? Thorin was perhaps the most steadfast and solemn person I'd ever met, when he wasn't letting me, or even Gandalf, know exactly what he thought of us. Crazy was the last thing I would think to call him.

Soon Gandalf and Elrond had moved deeper into the gardens, far enough away that I was unable to continue listening. I turned to continue my trek up the stairs and was surprised to see Thorin behind me. Immediately my stomach dropped again. Thorin was a natural at triggering that reaction it seemed. How long had he been standing there? Had he heard what Elrond had said?

Thorin's face was, for the most part, unreadable, even as he nodded to me. But there were small clues: his brows were furrowed, his mouth downturned even more than usual and his gaze was unfocused. Yes, I decided, Thorin had definitely heard. God, I couldn't even imagine how he felt. To hear someone speak about something that was so important to you, and about you, must be - painful? Devastating?

Unfair, I settled on.

I hesitated but decided to move up the staircase to continue my walk. To my surprise Thorin fell into step beside me. We didn't speak for a long time. To be honest, I wasn't even sure that Thorin was really aware of my presence beside him.

I weighed in my mind whether or not it would be well-received if I ask if how he was feeling. Probably not. We weren't friends, after all, not by any measure. Only thrown together literally by the Valar.

It was Thorin who broke our silence.

"Have you before left your Shire, Master Baggins?" Thorin asked. When I turned to look at him his eyes were still trained ahead of us.

Now wasn't that a good question? Technically, no. Though until a few weeks ago I'd never been to the Shire either.

"No." I replied, keeping it simple, glad that we hadn't stopped if only to give me something else to focus on. I wondered if I'd ever get used to the size of Bilbo's feet.

Thorin didn't make a noise, didn't nod but he seemed to be turning my answer over in his mind.

"We have discovered our way into the mountain," Thorin said finally after several minutes, and I was unable to follow his train of thought. "Do you think yourself suited for the task?"

Gandalf thought so. But Gandalf also thought leaving us next door to three trolls while he had a stroll to cool his temper and, I suspected, smoked his pipe, was a good idea.

I knew my answer though, and I suspected Thorin did too.

"Do you?" I shot back, hoping to avoid saying it out loud.

Thorin's silence was answer enough, and while it was unsurprising it made my throat grow tight and eyes hot.

"Gandalf," I said slowly, before pausing as my mind caught up with my words. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Thorin turn to me, attention rapt. This was a dangerous place I had metaphorically wandered into. Gandalf's reason for bringing me, I knew, didn't line up with what the dwarves had probably been told.

"Gandalf," I said again, this time in surprise and maybe a little relief that I didn't have to say anything more, as a tall robed figure emerged from the shadows. Next to me, Thorin frowned, turning his eyes to where mine were fixed before his frown deepened further.

"There is no time to lose," Gandalf informed us, skipping over any greetings, as he approached with a speed I hadn't seen from him before. "You must gather the Company and leave now."

Thorin and I stared at up at him, unmoving.

"What?" I asked after a beat had passed and neither of them said anything else. "Why?"

"Lord Elrond has been most patient with us," Gandalf explained, "But not every power in Middle Earth is so generous. If we do not want this quest to end here and now, you must go."

"And what of you?" Thorin wanted to know, setting his jaw stubbornly.

Gandalf shook his head. That wasn't good. "You will have to continue on without me."

Yeah, there was definitely no way this could end badly.