Author's Note: I really don't have much to say about this chapter, surprisingly. I'm would love to hear what you all think about characterization, as usual, as it's always something I am not completely confident in, particularly Thorin and Bard. I always worry about doing their characters justice. I hope you will all enjoy this chapter as the Company are finally on their last leg of the journey to Erebor. I am honestly equally pumped and nervous about tackling Smaug. I managed to avoid him this chapter, but in the next Laura better be ready.

Thank you all for your follows, favorites, and reviews. Every bit of it really brightens my day.

I stayed on the dock for a long time.

I'd never been able to shake the feeling of not-belonging, of being lost, since I first woke up in Middle Earth. It'd been my constant companion. But it had lessened, the weight of it not so terrible, the longer I'd been here. Gandalf had been a pillar of steadiness, the dwarves had turned from strangers to friends. Even Beorn had been a comfort.

But all of that had washed away. The uneasiness, the low-burning fear, the uncertainty had all made a roaring comeback.

Thorin was right. The ring was evil. And I had, stupidly, gotten myself entangled in it, according to Ulmo.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my ring. It really was such a little thing, I thought, staring down at it. Perhaps that was on purpose. A sudden impulse took over me, overpowering. I fisted my hand tightly, raised my arm behind my head and braced myself to throw it into the lake. A second impulse came over me, this time freezing me in place. I couldn't make up my mind. I wanted it to be gone, didn't I? I wanted it to be out of reach, not just for me, but for anyone. And yet, I wanted to keep it. I knew that wasn't me, even as I as I tucked the ring carefully away. I hated it, I thought. I hated what it was doing to me. I'd never understood what it meant to covet something, not until now. I always liked to think I was unselfish but the opposite was turning out to be true.

I was so tired. Tired of, and because of, my ring. Tired of our journey. Of my body.

But, I couldn't change any of that. All of it was out of my control.

Set the board, Ulmo had said. As if that was something I could do. As if it was something I was doing. Could I? Even with the ring's influence?

I pushed myself to my feet, stared up at the moon, and began to think.

We'd be in Erebor by this time tomorrow, if everything went well. There was, also, according to every sign, a dragon. Bard had said so. Ulmo had all but, too.

Okay, so, there was definitely a dragon. A city-razing, mountain-sacking dragon. An evil dragon.

Thorin's original plan, which I would have never thought I'd come around to, sounded the most solid. Take the Arkenstone, rally the dwarven armies. Which, given how thirteen dwarves could fight, meant they'd be formidable. Slay the dragon. It sounded far too simple but what else could we do? Gandalf had all but given the plan a stamp of approval. It was why he'd insisted I come along at all.

So, that was what would happen in a perfect world. But what would happen in a more realistic one where – and let's be honest was most likely- we'd run out of luck at some point?

We'd certainly pay the price ourselves. I refused to linger long on that. But would Smaug, a creature that destroyed not one but effectively two kingdoms, stop there? No, it didn't seem like it. Bard, though grim and doom-speaking, had been sincerely concerned about what Smaug would do if we entered the mountain.

Which meant if we failed, Lake-town would go down with us.

Set the board.

Resolve came roaring back, settling into my spine and straightening it, drying up the last of my tears. I turned and abandoned the docks, heading back into town. It was a little more difficult without daylight, and I ended up wandering a bit, but that was alright. It gave me time, time to gather my courage, to map out my pitch.

I still didn't feel quite ready, though, once I found the house. I was slow climbing the stairs, nerves and dread making my feet drag. When I reached the front door, I stared at it for a minute, took a deep breath, and knocked.

There was a long moment where there was no noise and no movement in the house. I stared down at my fist, wondering if I'd put enough force behind it, but then there was a soft light in one of the windows. Not a minute passed before the door opened, bringing me face to face with Bain.

Bain had clearly been asleep, which I immediately felt bad about. His hair was messy, a crease from a pillow ran down the side of his face. His eyes were still a bit unfocused. They sharpened, though, the second they met mine. Bain's eyes widened for a split-second before narrowing.

My words tumbled out before I could stop them, "I'm so sorry to wake you."

"Master Baggins," Bain said stiffly, voice rough with sleep.

Dread and anxiety were bubbling again, and I said before I could lose my nerve completely, "Is your father in?"

Bain stared for a long moment before offering the scantest of nods. The door swung shut.

Oh. I resisted the first urge to give up, then the second urge to fidget. I wondered if Bain would actually shout at me if I tried knocking again. Before I could make up my mind, the door opened again. This time I found Bard glaring down at me.

Bard, too, looked as if he'd been sleeping. His hair was no longer tied back but loose around his shoulders. I could see a nightshirt peeking through beneath his coat. Bard, however, sounded wide awake when he said, "Go away. I'm done with dwarves."

The door swung shut again. Well, I kind of deserved that.

I leaned forward, cupping a hand against the door and called lowly, hoping I wouldn't wake anyone in the surrounding houses, "What about hobbits?"

My hope sputtered out quickly when I got no reply. The light was still on in the window but there was no sound behind the door.

I shuffled, defeated, turning back to the staircase. I didn't have a Plan C but it was looking like I'd need one. Maybe the Master- no. God, no.

Without a thought I pivoted again to the door. My dad and grandma would be thrilled to know that the manners they'd drilled into me were still strong.

"Thank you," I called out after I cupped my hand once more against the door and leaned in, "For your help before. And I'm sorry."

Ugh, was the Master really our best shot now? I began descending the stairs. He must be the Master for a reason and the Lake-town people did seem to listen to him. But maybe that was just a side-effect of Thorin's promises.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by a creak of hinges behind me and the sound of footsteps. I froze and turned cautiously. Bard was there again, this time standing at the top of the stairs. We stared at one another for a long moment before Bard sighed, his shoulders visibly sinking, before gesturing towards his open door.

Relief swept over me, sweet and breathtaking. I rushed up the stairs, trying not to give Bard the opportunity to change his mind. Bard was back at the door, waiting, holding it open with one hand. I thanked him and slipped in.

The main room was lit in the dim glow of a single oil lamp on the table and the embers of the stove. I could see Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda watching from the bedroom curtain, faces obscured in shadows.

Bard made his way around me, standing between me and the children, eyes watchful. "Speak."

I shifted from foot to foot, unable to stop the feeling of awkwardness that was rising in my chest. "I'm so sorry to wake you. But I," I swallowed nervously, "I wanted to talk to you about the dragon."

Whatever Bard was expecting, it was clearly not that. His eyebrows smoothed out before rising up towards his hairline. He turned to the children and said firmly, "Back to bed."

The protests were immediate. Bain was the loudest of all, "But, Da!"

"Good night," Bard said, unyielding. After a few moments of shuffling, they did as they were told. Bard tilted his head, perhaps listening for the children to settle back in. Then, once he was satisfied, he gestured to the table.

I settled in across from him, trying not to feel too out of place. Bard did the same, fingers curled tightly against the wood, shoulders tense. "The Iron Hills, hm?"

Yikes. I did my best not to wince.

"I'm sorry," I told him, unable to stop myself. "Really. I know that- well. I'd be angry, too."

Bard looked unimpressed, but he did take pity on my floundering and offered, "I cannot fault you and yours for your secrets, Master Baggins. But I do fault you for what they may bring."

I nodded, my throat clicking as I swallowed nervously, "I understand."

"Do you?" Bard asked blandly, even as his eyes glittered.

"Yes," I insisted, though I knew my voice was faint. "That's why I'm here. I agree with you."

Bard's expression didn't soften, exactly, but he did lean back a bit. His fingers on the table uncurled. He seemed to be waiting, which just amplified my anxiety.

I had to choose my words carefully. Thorin may have been willing to let Lake-town know our reason for being here, but the specifics were murky now. My role, I learned painfully, was essential, and without it, there was no real plan that I could tell. Hopefully Gandalf would have a suggestion or two that didn't involve throwing me into the literal line of fire.

"I've heard first-hand what happened when the dragon came," I told Bard slowly, "I understand your doubt, but they know the risk."

"To themselves, perhaps," Bard answered sharply. "Can they see past that?"

I didn't know. Thorin had been so confident, speaking to Lake-town. There hadn't been any room for doubt, then. No fear. No uncertainty. Perhaps it was because we were so close to Erebor now. So close it felt as if we'd already succeeded.

"That," I said, words catching in my throat, "is what I am trying account for. With your help, I hope."

Bard's head tilted, considering. His eyes glittered sharply in the low light, "My help? Thorin has made his thoughts clear."

I winced, recalling the whispers between Bard and Thorin. Even with the blurriness of memory, their friction was stark. I still couldn't shake the uneasiness I felt when I thought of Thorin's expression, of the guilt I felt when I thought of Bard's face when our eyes had met.

"Not for us," I told him weakly, my confidence was shakier than ever, "For Lake-town."

Bard's expression was complicated and I couldn't quite parse through it. Bard sounded tired when he said, "They have chosen to cling to hope, not sense. I have already tried."

I couldn't blame any of them for that. Hope was all I had at times, the hope that I would be able to go home, that Bilbo would go home, after everything was said and done. I couldn't fault Bard, either. Smaug was a true threat, one that seemed to be, quite literally, next door.

"Please," I pleaded, unable to keep my voice from wavering, "Surely there must be something?"

Bard remained unconvinced, though his expression turned thoughtful. His fingers drummed once against the table before he said, "There is an old song among our people that came to us after the burning of Dale. Many consider it a prophecy. But there are different endings that are sung. One tells of our sorrow finally failing, the other that all will fail in sadness."

I shivered. Ulmo's words came to mind, icy and cutting. We were at a crossroads of sorts. Even the Valar didn't know which path we would take.

I was at a loss of what to say. Bard was still quiet but now his eyes had drifted up to the dried herbs hanging above the table. Finally, he offered, though it was said so quietly I wasn't sure he had meant to say it out loud, "Perhaps both could be true."

I would absolutely not waste this opening, and said quickly, "Exactly, the townspeople listened to you," Bard scoffed, but I pressed on, "I believe they'll listen to you again. Remind them. What is there to lose, if you try?" Bard stared, unimpressed and I tried, "What is there to lose, if you don't?"

Bard's face turned very pale. His eyes again drifted up to the dried herbs.

"You have made your point," Bard finally said, voice hoarse. There was something warm sparking in my chest. It wasn't hope, I knew, it was too faint. But maybe the beginning of it. "I will do what I can."

And there was the hope now, sudden and roaring like a wildfire. I let out a sigh of abject relief, "Thank you."

Bard moved to stand. His face was still pale but his expression was shifting into one of determination. I followed his example and stood too.

"We'll be traveling quickly tomorrow," I told Bard, almost a warning, "to reach the mountain by sundown."

Bard looked startled now, almost, incredibly, amused. He moved to the door and I took my cue, "You are a strange creature, Master Baggins."

Wasn't that the truth.

"A friend too, I hope?" I asked, standing aside for Bard to open the door. Bard glanced down at me and didn't give more than a hum in answer. It wasn't a refusal and I would gladly take it.

I stepped out into the biting night air and turned back to look up at Bard. "Thank you. For everything."

Bard watched me, considering. Then he offered, "I wish you well on your journey. Truly."

That meant a lot coming from Bard and I thanked him again, voice catching only a little, before I descended the stairs and began the walk back to the house. I was still a little in shock, even as I played back our conversation in my head. Bard had been sincere, I knew, and that was comforting even as tomorrow was already looming.

When I finally turned onto the dock our house was situated on, I was surprised to find the windows were still glowing with light. I immediately chided myself for it. Of course the dwarves would still be up. This was probably just as much of a homecoming as it was a last meal.

The door swung open silently only for a roar of noise to wash over me. The house was warm, almost too warm, and some were singing, others were shouting. It was a cacophony of noise that I had grown used to, though far more amplified. I wondered, with only a little annoyance, if I'd be able to sleep tonight.

I slowly pushed the door closed behind me, trying not to disturb their chorus. I let my eyes roam over the room, beginning to automatically count them. Most of the dwarves were gathered around the huge table in the middle of the room, the remnants of dinner scattered across the table. I could see Ori was off to the side on a bench pressed against the stairs, knitting, but singing along with the others. Bifur was next to him with a bowl of apples in his arms, steadily eating through them, cores and all. Balin was dozing in an armchair near the window while Thorin and Fili were next to him speaking together with their heads bowed and expressions grave.

I looked over all of them, feeling my heart lighten and a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth.

Between one blink and the next Bofur was in front of me, arms thrown out and smiling widely, "Bilbo!"

"Bofur," I answered warmly, trying, in vain, to keep my smile from widening.

"Where've you been?" Bofur demanded, attempting at severity even as his words slurred slightly. Bofur gestured towards me, one hand gripping tightly to a mug of what could only be ale.

"Took a walk," I replied vaguely.

Bofur looked like he was trying to frown at me, but the drink combined with his already good-natured personality made it a struggle. "You missed dinner, you did. And the drinking!"

I glanced over his shoulder at Kili, Gloin, and Dwalin who were teaming up to take on Dori in what looked like an arm-wrestling contest. Their faces were flushed red from the heat of the room and no doubt all the alcohol they'd consumed.

I turned my attention back to Bofur, unable to resist teasing, "I think you've all had more than enough to make up for me, don't you?"

Bofur considered this before nodding slowly, "Aye, aye, you're probably right."

"It'd be hard to catch up now," I explained, feeling unbearably fond of them all suddenly, "Enjoy yourselves, alright? I think I'm off to bed."

"Bed?" Bofur replied, sounding confused. "Why go to bed when there's still ale to be had?"

"Ale that's calling your name I think," I told him, letting out a laugh.

Bofur looked pleased. After a moment in which he did a full body sway, Bofur clapped my shoulder companionably. "True enough. You'll be alright, then?"

I could feel my smile turn brittle. "Of course. Aren't I always?"

Bofur let out a laugh, his breath smelling of ale. "Too right, Bilbo. We can count on that."

My smile slid back into something much more genuine, affection returning. "Good night, Bofur."

"Good night," Bofur called over his shoulder, already moving to join the others in cheering on Kili, Gloin, and Dwalin who were, against all odds, losing to Dori.

I turned to the left, eager to climb the stairs and retire to bed but was stopped at the foot of them by a hand on my arm. Its grip was gentle. My eyes met Bifur's, who was still seated on the bench, and his hand fell away.

I opened my mouth to bid Bifur- and Ori who had glanced up from his knitting to smile at me shyly- good night but paused as Bifur began to sign. It was fast, the way it always was when he communicated with the others, and there was only one of the signs I had been able to figure out among them: food. Or maybe meal, I wasn't sure which was the accurate translation. Admittedly, I'd only been able to pick up three signs even after all this time: fire, food – meal? – and the sign for Gandalf. Even those, I wasn't confident of.

Ori glanced between us, perhaps ready to translate, before Bifur stopped suddenly. He seemed lost in thought, which was more common than not for Bifur, but then his eyes sharpened again. Very slowly, he raised his hand high above his head, angled at the wrist and fingers straight. I nodded, though not confidently, but realization set in when Bifur very obviously pointed at me, then the door. He then repeated the gestures.

Oh.

It was Ori's turn to be confused and he glanced between the two of us.

"Yes, I did," I told Bifur, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice. I hoped that I'd understood correctly that Bifur was asking if I had gone to Bard. I also hoped that Bifur wouldn't tell the others. I didn't think it would go over well, not after the confrontation between Thorin and Bard earlier.

Bifur didn't look upset, though he rarely did. Instead, he nodded, and looked almost satisfied. His attention turned back to the bowl in his lap. He took the only apple left and offered it to me.

I blinked, stunned and very touched. The fondness that had been blossoming with Bofur was coming back full force. "No thank you, Bifur."

Bifur shrugged, unbothered by my refusal, and bit into the apple with a loud crunch. I met Ori's eyes, who smiled back at me, and wished them both good night before making my way up the stairs.

There was a long hallway at the top of the stairs, dark, quiet, and much cooler than the great room below. The only light came from the moon, peering through the window that was at the far end of the hallway. I made my way past the bedroom that I was sharing with Ori, Nori, and Dori, coming to a stop before the window and looking out over the buildings of Lake-town. In the distance was Erebor again, cutting through the starry night sky like a knife and looking impossibly dark thanks to the light of the moon.

It was beautiful, still. I wondered if I'd ever stop being struck with it. I doubted it. I settled against the window frame, shoulder pressed partially against the cold glass. With every breath a small cloud of fog appeared on the glass, disappearing just in time for the next to replace it.

I was tired. I should go to bed, I told myself. This would be the last real sleep I'd get in a while, nightmares notwithstanding. But there was still anxiety beneath my skin, partially from the mountain before me, partially from knowing what was inside it. Knowing that we'd see it for ourselves soon enough.

I don't know how long I stood there, but I was startled out of my daze by a noise behind me, the creaking of wood. I peered over my shoulder, curling in a bit more on myself as I turned to look down the long hallway before relaxing.

It was Thorin.

I watched him for a moment, sure that he was going to disappear into the bedroom that he was sharing with Fili and Kili for the night. I was surprised when he moved to join me at the window, his hands clasped together behind his back.

"Good evening," I said slowly, watching his face carefully. It was illuminated by the light of the moon, throwing his features into sharp focus.

For a long moment Thorin said nothing, his attention fixed wholly on Erebor. Then, with what looked like a great effort, his eyes moved to meet mine.

Thorin dipped his head in greeting. "Master Baggins."

I smiled back wanly before turning my head back towards the mountain, settling back in. It was quiet between us, but comfortable in a way that we'd learned together in the dungeons. There was a long stretch of time until, to my surprise, Thorin spoke up.

"I did not believe I would ever see it again," Thorin breathed out next to me, his voice so soft and low I almost missed it.

"Your kingdom?" I asked quietly. I don't know why. Maybe it was because there was still the lingering unease at the memory of Thorin's face when he spoke to Bard.

That expression was nowhere to be seen now. Thorin's usual impassive face was shockingly open. I recognized the look immediately. It was a feeling that hardly ever left me. Longing.

Thorin shook his head slowly, "My home."

I let out a long sigh. Home.

We stayed there together for a long time, watching the moon grow dimmer as morning came closer. Eventually I gathered myself and rose to my feet, ready to try for bed.

"Good night, Thorin," I said to his back before turning to my bedroom.

Thorin didn't reply.

The next morning the Master came to see us.

We'd just finished a breakfast of leftovers scavenged from last night. The dwarves were in varying degrees of dishevelment though none of them seemed to be feeling the effects of the alcohol from the night before, much to my astonishment.

"Good morning, good morning," the Master said jovially, throwing open the front door with the man in dark clothes close behind. They both looked even more unpleasant in daylight.

The dwarves all turned to stare as Thorin replied in kind, though with remarkably less enthusiasm. I, personally, was eyeing the Master's outfit with both awe and revulsion. He'd donned a frankly horrifying fur cape and hat with a feather plume sticking at least a foot above his head. And here I thought he couldn't get more outrageous.

"We have prepared a boat for your travels," the Master told us with a smile that seemed flat, at odds with his tone. "And we have gathered you garments that are more," he paused, his smile faltering as his eyes traveled over the second-hand clothing Bard had loaned us with clear dismay, "suitable for such esteemed guests."

Thorin gave him a short nod in acknowledgement.

The Master turned to bark over his shoulder, "Come!"

At once several men and women entered, carrying cloaks and what looked like pieces of armor.

I could feel my eyebrows rising as Balin said, "We are grateful for your generosity."

The Master beamed, this time it looked a little more genuine, his eyes bright. "We've prepared a proper sendoff! Alfrid will lead you to the wharf when you are ready."

Balin and Thorin both nodded, already turning away to look through the piles of clothing the men and women had laid out on the table. I watched as the Master's smile dropped completely, something much darker flashing across his face before turning away through the door. The man in dark clothes – Alfrid - stood in the corner, face twisted and eyes gleaming.

I turned away, uncomfortable in a way that was an echo of being in front of Thranduil. The Master and Alfrid felt more dangerous, though. Thranduil, for all his sharpness, had been straightforward enough. There was a shiftiness to these two that I hadn't yet seen in anyone else.

Reminding myself that we'd be gone soon enough, I turned my attention to the dwarves who were picking out what they were going to wear. It was clear that some of the dwarves, like Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin were only vaguely interested in the armor, for utility. While others, like Ori, Fili, and Kili had clearly never seen such pieces before. They went through them with unbridled eagerness, trying on helmets and claiming what looked like steel shoulder pads and intricately detailed cloaks.

"Here Bilbo," Kili said cheerfully, whirling to face me with a long deep red cloak in his hands.

I eyed the fabric doubtfully. Even bunched up in Kili's hands I could see that it was a cloak made for men. Men that were twice my height.

"Come now," Fili said as he moved to stand next to me. In his hands was a truly ridiculous helmet. It was huge and also clearly for men. It looked like an upside down funnel, with fur lining the brim and gold detailing around the edge.

Something must have shown on my face because Fili and Kili both grinned. Then, Fili was lunging at me and I ducked clumsily in an effort to avoid Fili's attempt to place the helmet on my head. I was successful for all of ten seconds before Kili grabbed my shoulders behind me with another laugh, allowing Fili to plop the helmet onto my head.

My vision immediately went dark, the helmet so large it slid over half my face. They both immediately broke into laughter. I knew I looked even more ridiculous than when Hayley and I would try on her mom's dresses and heels as kids.

"Very funny," I sighed at them, unable to truly be annoyed in the face of their laughter. I lifted the helmet off my head and tossed it onto the almost empty table.

The two giggled together for a few moments before gathering their composure.

"Sorry, Bilbo," Kili said with a grin, not looking very sorry at all. "Here," he extended the cloak towards me. "Let me help you with this."

I eyed them both warily but relented, figuring it would keep me warm if nothing else. I lifted my chin up and let Kili swing the cloak around to my back and clasping in around my neck. Kili worked at it for a few more minutes, his tongue peeking out in concentration. Eventually, Fili batted his brother's hands away, looking put-upon, before taking over.

"There." Fili finally declared, stepping back and looking satisfied.

I smiled at them. "Thank you."

"You're a member of the Company, Bilbo," Fili reminded me with a smile of his own. "You should at least look the part."

I rolled my eyes at him just as Thorin declared that it was time for us all to depart. Alfrid straightened from where he was slouching in the corner and moved towards the door.

"This way, if you please," Alfrid told us, all false politeness, before swiftly moving out the door and onto the docks.

I followed after Thorin, raising my hand to shield my eyes from the sun, stepping off to the side of the door, and counting each dwarf as they passed. I'd just managed to gather my cloak in my arms to keep it from dragging behind me as the twelfth dwarf, Oin, walked past me, A few moments passed as I waited for the last one to come out but there was nothing.

I glanced back into the house, squinting through the dimness but couldn't see anyone. I turned back towards the docks, watching as the dwarves disappeared around a corner out of sight. I bit my lip, unsure, going over the dwarves that passed by in my head. Had I miscounted?

And then it hit me, the missing member of the Company was, "Bofur," I hissed out desperately. "Bofur!"

There was no sound or movement in the house. I sighed and moved back into the house, cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, "Bofur!"

A loud bang followed my shout, sounding like two objects colliding. Like wood meeting wood or, more accurately, wood meeting bone. A pitiful groan emerged from under the table.

I darted towards the table quickly and peered underneath it.

Bofur was clutching his head, no doubt having hit underneath the table and produced such an impressive noise.

"Bofur," I said again, not sure whether to feel amused, sympathetic, or impatient. Outside I could hear what sounded like trumpets playing in the distance. "Bofur, let's go!"

Bofur squinted up at me, then towards where sunlight was streaming through the window. I watched as he tilted his head in consideration, no doubt picking up on the sounds from outside.

His eyes widened, pain forgotten. "By my beard is it that time already?"

Bofur scrambled to his feet, nearly toppling over as he stumbled into the table. I could see his eyes landing on what was left of the clothing that the Master had given us: one of the armored shoulder pads and the helmet I had cheerfully abandoned.

"Quick," I said hurriedly as Bofur made the decision to pull the shoulder pads over his head. I reached over and grabbed the helmet.

"Right, right," Bofur agreed as we stumbled out of the house, taking the helmet and wedging it over his hat. I snorted with laughter even as we broke into a run. We rounded the corner, just in time to see Dwalin swallowed up into the crowd.

"Pardon me," Bofur was shouting over the people as we pushed through them. "Excuse me m'lady!"

The crowd either figured out who we were or they were curious enough to part for us, and did so easily, revealing Dwalin's back again. I realized my mistake only when I made impact. It felt like I'd run into a brick wall. I groaned when Bofur joined me, sandwiching me between them.

Dwalin didn't even stumble, though he did stop. Dazed, I felt more than saw him grab my shoulder to help me catch my balance, probably doing the same to Bofur.

"Steady on, Master Baggins," Dwalin growled at me, though his grip was careful.

"Sorry," I whispered as I regained my footing and I heard Bofur echo me to my left.

Dwalin grunted, his hand remaining on my shoulder. As the Master began to talk, voice carrying over the crowd, the dwarves began to file into the boat. It was maybe half the length of Bard's which meant we'd all be shoulder to shoulder, and I could see as we slowly moved closer for our turn that packs of supplies were indeed there too.

I let Dwalin steer me ahead of him when it was our turn to board, and he held onto me firmly until I was safely between Bombur and Gloin before turning to gesture for Bofur to get on next.

It was indeed a tight fit. We all had to stand and it was a testament to the boat when it didn't even sway beneath us. Above us I could hear the Master's voice, giving a speech above the crowd's cheers. Then the boat began to move.

I twisted around to watch the people as we passed. The Master was standing on a high platform, Alfrid behind him as an ever-present shadow. But it was the crowd's faces that really made me stop and stare. Their expressions were that of muted joy and wonder, as if not quite ready to believe that the dwarves of Erebor had returned at last. Absently I searched for Bard's face in the crowd but knew there was no point. There was no way Bard would join the farewell party, no matter how amicably he and I had parted ways.

Soon, though, the cheering of the crowd faded with the bells and creaking of the docks as Lake-town was put at our backs. Instead, we pushed forward with Dori, Bifur, Dwalin, and Fili paddling our boat through the calm waters.

We spent half of the morning on the lake, slicing through the water in near silence. All of our attention was on the mountain, looming ever closer as we made our way across the lake. Soon we reached the shore near the mouth of a river that looked to flow from the mountain. The boat was quickly banked and the supplies and limited packs were assigned. Balin turned to explain to me that this was the River Running, which flowed from the mountain itself. We would have to walk to rest of the way as it would be too long to push against the river's current or try to navigate the boat up the occasional falls.

I was grateful to Balin to think of me and was even more grateful when I wasn't given a pack to carry. Bifur, who was, had gently tugged off my cloak and tucked it away in his. I thanked him profusely, because while the cloak would probably make a wonderful blanket, hiking with it would be a nightmare.

When we began to move, Kili, Fili, and Ori took the lead. There had been an excitement building between the three of them all morning as we grew closer to the river. I waited for the others to begin to follow, resigned that I would be the straggler. I remembered all too well how grueling the hike through the Misty Mountains had been.

Thorin was waiting too. I didn't realize it was for me until the others had already gone ahead and he ducked down close to me. As he did, I noticed absently that Thorin's cloak matched mine. It was almost funny.

"We will reach Dale by midday," Thorin said quietly, as we fell into step together. I knew it wouldn't last long but I appreciated it. Thorin continued, "From there, you will be able to return home with Gandalf."

I stared up at him in surprise, stumbling a little. Thorin's face was very serious as he promised, "I will make sure of it."

I nodded, unsure of what to say. I wanted to thank Thorin. But I also knew that Gandalf wasn't going to be deterred, not now that we were here. Not now that we were mere hours away from entering the mountain.

The trek was in fact hellish. The memory of the Misty Mountains had clearly faded considerably because I was still shocked at how difficult the walk was. The incline was harsh, and grew harsher the more we walked, and the rocky terrain was difficult even for my tough hobbit feet. I was right, I ended up straggling, but thankfully Bombur wasn't that much further ahead. Every so often he would glance back at me over his pack and I'd try to offer a weak smile in return.

Just as I was beginning to think that we wouldn't ever reach the top, the ground began to level out and the Company came to a stop. Soon, the others were beginning to fan out, slowly moving forward before stopping altogether. I frowned, took a deep breath, and took the remaining dozen steps to join them.

We had reached a ridge. There was a sudden drop below us, down into a valley. Across it was Erebor, even larger and grander than it looked in Lake-town. And between us and the mountain was an outcrop so huge it seemed to cut the valley in half. It took me a few moments, in my exhausted daze, to clock what I was seeing.

Ruins. There were ruins, built high on the outcrop. A city, with crumbling towers, high surrounding walls, and buildings that encircled a large dome that looked almost intact.

Oh, this was- this was-

"Dale," Balin said mournfully. His voice was low but in the silence it rang out like a bell, "Or so it once was. Now it is the desolation of Smaug."

Fear hit me first. The sight of such a large city, still an echo of what it had been once even in its ruin was startling. Then, my mind began to work. If this was Dale, then that meant this was where-

I turned, eyes searching, desperation now sweeping over me. I called out, "Gandalf?"

The others all seemed to startle as one. I called out again, this time louder, "Gandalf?"

The dwarves were moving now, searching with me, spreading out. There was nothing, though, after a few moments, and I debated calling out again. Instead, I let my eyes sweep over the rocks, hope already waning, searching for any sign of Gandalf. His tall figure, his hat, even his horse.

But there was nothing.

There was a low buzzing in my ears now. It was getting hard to breathe, even harder than it had been during our climb. Where was Gandalf? He promised. He promised.

I was startled out of my panic by a hand on my shoulder. I blinked, trying to focus, and I realized that it was Fili. His eyes were large and worried, glancing around before landing on me. Around us the others were talking, voices urgent, debating on what we should do.

It was, of course, Thorin who decided for us.

"It is past midday," Thorin said to us all, "We must find the hidden door into the mountain before the sun sets."

No. No. We had to wait for Gandalf. We needed Gandalf. I needed Gandalf.

The others were moving again, but I couldn't.

When Thorin stepped in front of me, I shook my head. Fili gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Master Baggins," Thorin said, low and gentle despite the very stark impatience shadowing his expression. I shook my head again but Thorin was undeterred, though sincere when he said, "I am sorry. We cannot delay. Come, Gandalf will know where we have gone."

I shook my head, unable to help it, but I found myself walking at Fili's gentle urging. Thorin gave me one last encouraging nod before moving to the front of the Company. I trusted Thorin, I did, and I wanted to believe him. Gandalf would come, wouldn't he? Maybe it was like the mountains. Maybe he was just late.

That was all I could think about as we continued on. Gandalf would come, he had to.

Though it seemed so much closer than the walk from the river, it took hours for us to climb down into the valley, circling Dale and reaching the base of the mountain. The Company was slowing again, coming to a stop, and I could see Thorin pulling out a map. It looked familiar, why did it look familiar?

"If the map is true, the hidden door lies directly above us," Thorin said loudly, his voice carrying over the rocks.

I joined the others but in my last few steps I stumbled over another rock. Already cursing and bracing myself for a fall, a hand wrapped itself around my upper arm, steadying me. I looked up to meet Kili's eyes. Fili was a few feet behind him, staring up at the mountain.

"Alright, Bilbo?" Kili asked cautiously.

I was the least alright I'd ever been, it felt like. Though, I knew the weeks preceding and following my official drop out of college had probably been worse. Deciding not to open that can of worms, inside or out loud, I said instead, "I don't think I'm built for mountains."

Kili tsk'd at me, beaming now. "You seem to be faring well enough."

What an adorable little liar.

I exhaled gustily and shot back, "Only with you to look after me."

Kili made a soft noise, expression shockingly fond as he glanced down at me. I tried not to shift uncomfortably or scowl. Together, we turned to study the mountainside once more. I couldn't see anything that indicated a secret door, not at the base of the mountain anyway, nor did I see any sort of path or ledge that might lead to such a thing.

I turned to Kili, curious to see if he found something I couldn't, and caught sight of his expression. Kili was no longer smiling but instead was wearing a puzzled frown, as if trying to work something out in his mind. He released my arm and took a few steps forward, his eyes trained on a particularly impressive gap in the mountainside.

I frowned and followed, quicken my pace to keep up with him. Then I saw it, the gap was deep and tall and within it was a huge staircase carved into the side of the mountain. It was built with ridged lines in a geometric zigzag and looked like it led up into a huge carving of a dwarven warrior, faded and worn against the mountain.

Huh.

Kili was already calling for the others while I stared at the staircase with dread beginning to pool in my stomach. It looked awfully steep. Around us, I could hear the others shouting in joy at Kili's find.

"Well done, Kili," Thorin said as he joined us, breathless and smiling.

We began our climb immediately, to my chagrin. I was near the back, between Ori and Dori, neither of whom minded my slow and careful pace. The staircase, while certainly interesting to look at, wasn't easy to scale. The zigzag pattern meant that once we would reach the top of one set of stairs, we would have to leap up and hoist ourselves up onto the next set.

Dori was strong enough to toss me with no real effort, though my hands were raw and my ribs sore from constantly having to push myself over the lip of the staircases even with Nori and Gloin's help as they pulled me up.

The sun was setting in earnest by the time we all made it to the top of the stairs. There was a, thankfully, wide landing that we could all spread out comfortably on, which happened to be on the great stone dwarf's shoulder. I collapsed next to Ori just as Bombur was bodily pulled up the last staircase by Dwalin and Dori.

"This must be it," I heard Thorin say. "The hidden door."

I turned to look, watching as Thorin surveyed what looked like an unremarkable stone wall. I thought back, to what Balin had said at Rivendell. A secret entrance, I remembered, which explained why it didn't look any different from the rest of the mountainside.

Thorin turned suddenly, grinning widely and holding up what looked like a key proudly. "Let all those who doubted us," He told us triumphantly, "Rue this day!"

The dwarves erupted into cheers around me, any exhaustion from the day's travel was washed away. There was an unmistakable thread of excitement, of joy, that I hadn't really heard yet from them. I supposed it made sense. Anything I might have felt on our way here would pale in comparison of what I'd feel when I'd get to go home.

Dwalin moved forward now, and for the first time since I met him he looked almost happy, which meant he wasn't frowning. "Right then, we have a key." He reached up, running his hands along the stone wall, "Which means that somewhere there is a keyhole."

"The last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole," Thorin said, almost as if he was quoting something. Maybe the map?

The dwarves looked towards the sun as one, before looking back towards the stone wall. It was setting in earnest now, only a sliver on the horizon, and I was grateful that we were on the western side of the mountain and could still take in what little light and warmth we could.

I settled against the sheer cliff that stood like a wall around us, relieved to take my weight off my feet. Nori had joined Dwalin at the wall, using what looked like a spoon to tap against the stone. Confused, I watched as Thorin and Kili approached the wall, running their hands over the rock just as Dwalin began thumping and kicking against the wall with earnest.

I felt nervous now. Surely the door was here wasn't it? Surely they'd be able to find it? It was made by dwarves after all. I glanced back, towards the stairs, hoping despite everything, to see Gandalf joining us. But there was nothing.

"Break it down," Thorin ordered, his voice desperate as Gloin, Bifur, and Dwalin began to strike the wall with their axes. "Come on!"

"It's no good, the door is sealed," Balin shouted over the clang of metal on rock. I could hear their weapons shattering, metal falling to the stone. "It can't be opened by force. There's a powerful magic on it."

They stopped slowly, almost unwillingly, and soon we all watching the horizon. The sun had disappeared completely now, only stripes of yellow and blue were left.

"No," I heard Thorin breathe out over the deathly silence that had settled between us all. "No."

I looked around, the others had dispersed away from the door and spread out again. Their heads were hanging and they were silent. Next to me, Ori was staring listlessly, head bowed. Almost – no, most certainly defeated.

"We've lost the light," Balin said, sorrow laced in every word. "There is no more to be done."

What the-

My mouth opened, ready for the words to spill out. I don't understand. What else was new? But I couldn't get them out. I watched Gloin slide down the wall next to Oin, head in his hands. Thorin had gone quiet, too, now staring at the key in his hand.

It was dark, the word grey, with the sun gone. The wind felt more biting, more cutting. I didn't understand. We had come all this way? No, no, the Valar had been so sure. What was the point of me being here at all?

Fili and Kili collapsed on my other side, faces drawn and pale. Everyone was so quiet.

I turned to them, almost desperate myself. I still couldn't quiet process it. This couldn't be the end, could it? I opened my mouth again, this time unsure of what I wanted to say. I'm sorry felt so small, so inadequate, but I wanted to offer something.

The wall over their shoulders, the one the others had been so focused on, brightened suddenly in a scattering of spots not unlike when sunlight filtered through the trees. This light was cool, silvery, and pale. I glanced back up over my shoulder and saw the moon again, still in its backwards-C, coming out from behind the clouds. I turned to the wall again and inhaled sharply. The rock was shimmering now, from magic, it must have been, like in Rivendell. This was the door after all.

Fumbling, unwilling to take my eyes off it, I reached up, tangled my fingers in Fili's coat, and tugged. In my peripheral, Fili's head tilted back up. It took a moment but then his head swung towards the door too. I chanced a glance at him, now that I knew someone else could see it. Fili's face was slack with wonder, his eyes searching until they suddenly sharpened.

"Uncle," Fili called out urgently, already on his feet and taking several hurried steps towards the door, "The key!"

Thorin was next to him in an instant, Balin just behind. They both turned back up towards the sky, expressions matching Fili's wonder, to the moon then back to the door.

"The last light," Balin said suddenly, laughing, actually laughing, giddy with joy, "The last light of Durin's Day."

We were all crowding close now, watching as Thorin brought the key up to a crack in the rock that upon further inspection was the perfect shape of a keyhole. Thorin turned it slowly, as if afraid it would break, and I could hear the low noise of stone shifting, like a tumbler. Then, after a moment where no one moved, Thorin lifted his hands, pressed them flat against the stone, and pushed. The wall let out the sound of stones scraping together and the door swung open. Nothing could be seen inside, and it felt almost like the darkness within seeped out, like smoke.

"Erebor," Thorin breathed out, soft and reverent.

Balin moved to stand beside him, stumbling as if in a dream, his voice breaking. "Thorin."

Thorin settled a gentle hand on Balin's shoulder before turning back towards the dark tunnel. And then he stepped inside.

"I know these walls," I heard him whisper, disappearing into the dark, "This stone."

Balin followed him slowly and I could hear them speaking quietly together as they moved further into the mountain. I waited for the others to follow but to my surprise Bifur turned and held out an arm to me as if to say, 'after you.'

When none of the others stepped forward, I did as Bifur bid, breathing in deep the stale air of a lost kingdom. I could hear the others following close behind and as we reached the end of the passage, I heard Gloin reciting, "Herein lies the seventh kingdom of Durin's Folk. May the Heart of the Mountain unite all dwarves in defense of this home."

"The throne of the king," Balin told me softly, then to my shock added, "That is why you are here, Master Baggins."

I felt suddenly like I had been dunked into the lake. Cold crept up my spine, into my lungs. My mind felt foggy. Surely, he didn't – Thorin had to have told them–

He had very clearly not. This was made even more apparent when Thorin said suddenly, "No. There's been a change of plan."

I tried to take a deep breath but I couldn't manage it. I settled on a few short quick ones. I was going to kill Thorin. He hadn't told the others at all?

For the first time, Thorin's words failed to pacify them. They were all murmuring now, some in dwarvish, some not.

"A change in plan?" Gloin said loudly behind me. I winced. The echo that followed made it sound even louder. At least Oin would be able to hear it. "Master Baggins signed a contract! Why were we not told?"

The murmuring was louder now and I could feel almost every pair of eyes on me now. All I could think of was Ulmo. Of the light in the cave. I knew this was why I was here now. Why Bilbo should've been here. Why he wasn't now. Get the Arkenstone, set the board.

"I did," I said before I could stop myself, mind still working, almost dizzily. Silence fell again. I screwed my eyes shut, just for a moment, to brace myself, to gather my courage, and added, "I did sign a contract. And it stands."

I couldn't see Thorin's face in the dark, I could barely see the shape of Balin in front of me. But I could hear his voice, raw and vulnerable as Thorin said, "Bilbo."

"I'll go in," I said, hoping I sounded the opposite of how I felt. That I sounded sure. Brave. "And look around. Scout. Then-"

I couldn't finish. Then, what? A dragon was here, according to everyone we'd spoken to. My stomach was twisting itself into knots. I wondered if Gandalf had known, or if it had been a gamble. I wondered if it would've been better if he had or not.

There was a long stretch of silence, then Gloin said approvingly at a much more reasonable volume, "A fine idea. Caution and prudence may be our strongest tools here."

A rumble of agreement from the others. I didn't wait for anything else. I slipped past Balin, avoiding where I guessed his eyes were, and then tried to do the same to Thorin. A hand, large and warm even through my layers, wrapped around my elbow.

"Bilbo," Thorin said again, much lower but just as raw as before. He was quiet for a moment, as if struggling with what to say. Then he repeated, "The contract still stands. Including payment in full."

Payment? That hadn't even made it onto my list of concerns. I couldn't bring myself to argue though. I nodded, and even in the near total darkness Thorin must have been able to see since his hand dropped. I was glad. I could feel myself beginning to shake.

"We are close to the treasury, here. When you find it, do not go any further in than you must." Thorin told me gravely. I wanted to laugh, a hysterical bubble of it caught in my chest. Must was the reason I was here. "Scout only and return to us. We will decide our next steps, together."

I nodded again but Thorin wasn't done. His voice was much closer and much lower when he spoke again. "You are both clever and skilled. Hold to that as I do."

Tears were welling in my eyes. I resisted the urge to wipe at them, knowing Thorin would be able to see my hands shaking, if he didn't already. I took a step forward. I tried very hard to push down the feeling that I was about to step off a cliff.

I had only ever read about the fight-or-flight instinct. Hayley and I would joke about it together. She was always fight-or-fight. I always wondered what mine would be and now I knew even as I descended stairs that I couldn't see. That instinct was telling me only one thing: to run.

And I really, really, should have listened to it.