Sorry, it's been so long If I'm being honest, motivation is not my strong suit, it's easier to have someone kick my rear to keep going. Anyways, here's the next chapter, enjoy.

Chapter 13

The door swung open with a creaking groan to reveal a darkened entrance. Dwalin was instantly alert. Quietly he crept into the house, Grasper and Keeper firmly in hand.

What was going on? Where was their host? are they dead? Kidnapped? Dwalin stealthily made his way throughout the house, weapons drawn, ready for anything as he methodologically moved from room to room. The house was dark, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary or disturbed, there were signs of life. It appeared their host, whoever he was, left a ridiculous batch of pastries cooling on the counter to appease the dwarves and left.

Dwalin felt bitterness fill his heart as he glared at the pastries, clearly their burglar had changed his mind about the promise he made and instead of facing them directly, chose to take the coward's way out and had abandoned their home for the night.

"Fucking bastard," Dwalin growled out in anger, sheathing his weapons once again, and marched out of the kitchen to the front door. He ripped the door open just in time to see his brother raise his hand to knock.

Balin eyes lit up at the sight of his brother before they dimed in concern at the truly ferocious look on his brother's face.

"What's wrong," Balin asked plainly. Hope dying in his stomach.

"Our host has abandoned us," Dwalin said looking murderously and Balin felt his own face pinch as anger briefly choked him. Balin quickly shoved that anger down and masked his emotions, this would not be the first time someone had broken their word to them and Balin doubted it would be the last.

"Are you sure?" Balin asked, political mask falling in place, Dwalin nodded sharply and gestured behind him with his hand.

"The door is unlocked, pastries are in the kitchen, and the house is dark." Balin let out a deep sigh and nodded.

"Well, let's see what we can salvage from the situation. Until everyone meets we will have to stay." Dwalin opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it again before swiftly turning back around and disappearing into the darkened home.

Balin felt a weariness invade his bones before he steeled himself and followed in after Dwalin.

As Balin stepped inside, he closed the door behind him with a soft click, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The house had a cozy feel, but it was eerily quiet. He followed the faint sound of Dwalin's movements until he found himself in the kitchen, where the smell of freshly baked pastries still lingered in the air.

"Well, at least our host had the decency to leave us some provisions," Balin said, trying to lighten the mood.

Dwalin grunted, still clearly displeased. "Provisions or not, it doesn't excuse abandoning an agreement."

Balin nodded, knowing his brother's frustration well. Trust was a rare commodity, and broken promises were all too common in their lives. "We'll figure it out, Dwalin. For now, we need to focus on the task at hand."

Wordlessly the two brothers began trying to make the best of the situation, Balin went to light the home and Dwalin moved to the pantry to gather more food than pastries.

Soon the house was filled with a warm soft glow and the dining table was groaning under the weight of food but despite the access to rare comforts, the atmosphere was soured, no points for guessing why.

Before the brothers could dig in, they heard a knock on the door.

"I'll get it," Balin said moving his way to the front door. He opened it to reveal a familiar face.

"Thorin, Frerin, you're here," Balin said to the tall, proud figures of his king and prince. Thorin gave Balin a rare small smile while Frerin moved forward enthusiastically to greet him.

"Balin! it's been years!" Frerin exclaimed while clasping his arms in greeting and both moved to crash their heads together. Balin indulged him with a soft chuckle and a fierce grip despite the bitterness he felt before pulling back to greet his king and friend.

"Thorin, It's been too long!" Balin said observing the differences time had etched on the man. Thorin's answering smile was small but warm as they clasped forearms.

"It would have been even longer had Thorin navigated." Frerin's cheekily interjected, "He almost got us lost, twice!"

"Well, I guess nothing changed then." Dwalin's deep timber rang out behind Balin. Thorin let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Will I ever live this down?" he asked no one in particular. The only response he got was variations of laughter and no's. Shaking his head in good humor Thorin turned his attention back to Balin. "Where is our host?"

The sudden pinched face of Balin and the scowl on Dwalin brought both the royal siblings to attention.

"Balin, what is wrong?" Thorin demanded, hand twitching towards his sword as he gazed around the seemingly innocent home in suspicion. Balin let out a small sigh,

"It seems our host has abandoned us." He said with as much diplomacy he could muster at the moment, which, in the presence of whom he considered family, wasn't a lot.

"Bastard left us some pastries and then ditched the place so he didn't have to face us." Dwalin piped up behind him. With a lifetime of diplomatic negotiation under his belt, Balin internally cringed at the crude and angry statement his brother had made, though he could not refute it, it was true after all. Simultaneously the royal's faces fell into a mask of severity, Thorin's more intense than Frerin's.

"Any of the others make it here?" Frerin asked scanning his surroundings with new eyes and a barely concealed sneer of disgust.

"No, my prince," Balin said shaking his head.

"We will have to go without him then," Thorin said taking control of the situation. "Nori will be our burglar. For now, we will rest here and move on in the morning. I will be sure to inform the others once they arrive." The three other dwarves nodded their acceptance before all four of them hung up their worn gear and made themselves at home.

It wasn't long before they heard the rambunctious sound of several voices and a rapid-fire knock on the door, to which Thorin stood up and made for the door. As soon as he opened it an avalanche of dwarves spilled into the foyer, right on top of him.

Thorin could hear Frerin laughing boisterously as he struggled under the weight of several dwarrows, all swearing violently as they struggled to right themselves. Thankfully they were quick to detangle their limbs and roll up and off of him to settle in the foyer.

"My my, quite the greeting, wouldn't you say so Thorin?" an amused, deep chuckle came from the door.

"Gandalf," Thorin greeted one of the hunched forms, practically bent in half to look through the strange round door.

"King Thorin" The silvery blond-headed elf greeted, nodding his already bent head in acknowledgment.

"Prince Legolas," Thorin returned.

Smiling, Gandalf ducked into the home and tried to stand up again, only to hit his head on a hanging chandelier. The wizard scowled crossly at it before moving away and further into the home. Legolas followed after with much more grace than his counterpart, avoiding the chandelier altogether.

Thorin was grateful that the elf was here. He had no love for Legolas's Father but distinctly remembered the day the Prince of the Green Wood burst into Erebor's throne room to warn them of the coming dragon, only to be tossed out by Thorin's dragon-sick grandfather. Even despite their poor treatment of the Elf, the Prince was willing to help. It was Legolas's warning and advice that gave Thorin and his father a chance to evacuate their people. It was only after the destruction that Thorin realized Legolas had helped against King Thranduil's direct orders. There was no support from the King of the Green Wood as he cast them out. It planted a deep seed of hatred buried in his heart, it was only the actions of the Elf Prince that stayed his hatred for all of Elfkind, and led them to the gates of Rivendell where Lord Elrond and his daughter Lady Arwen, gave all of them ample supplies and care while they tried to find a new home.

In a way, Thorin could understand Thranduil's desire to lock himself and his people away, but he did not have that luxury and he would not indulge in it no matter what. He vowed to himself he would never put anyone through what his people did. Thorin just thanked Aulë that Legolas was nothing like his father and Thranduil was singular in his callousness.

Thorin watched as Gandalf scanned their boisterous surroundings of greeting dwarrows before he frowned and looked again. Thorin knew what he was looking for, their host. Deciding to get this over with, Thorin let out a fierce command for quiet. Instantly the group silenced themselves and turned their attention on him.

"Our host seems to be missing," Thorin announced his voice firm but tinged with a hint of irritation. The gathered dwarves exchanged puzzled glances, murmuring among themselves as they processed the unexpected news, Thorin recognized most of the new faces. His third cousins Oin and Glóin were there, along with his distant cousins Dori, Nori, and Ori. The only ones he did not know were Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur, though he knew their names through correspondence.

Gandalf, who had been surveying the room, stepped forward. "Missing? That's simply not like Bilbo Baggins. Are you certain?"

Thorin nodded sharply. "Dwalin and Balin arrived first and found the house empty, save for some pastries left on the counter. It appears that Master Baggins had second thoughts and chose to leave before we arrived."

A wave of disappointment and frustration rippled through the group. A dwarf, Bofur, if Thorin remembered his description correctly, sighed dramatically, adjusting his hat. "Well, that's a fine how-do-you-do. And here I was, looking forward to a warm welcome."

Ori and Dori exchanged glances, the youth's face creased with concern. "What do we do now?" Ori asked, his voice carrying a note of uncertainty.

Thorin straightened, his expression resolute. "We continue as planned. We can't afford any delays. If our burglar won't join us, we'll make do without him."

"Thirteen is an unlucky number," Oin grumbled crossly, listening horn clutched in a too-strong grip.

Legolas hummed thoughtfully, as he glanced around the home with suspicious eyes "According to Arwen, Hobbits are practically known for their hosting skills. I suspect there's more to this situation than meets the eye."

The dwarves looked at Legolas with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. Thorin, though not entirely convinced, knew better than to dismiss the Elf's words outright. "Perhaps you're right, Legolas, perhaps we were too quick to suspect abandonment. Gandalf, tell me what you know of this Hobbit and what could possibly have drove them off like this."

"Of course, of course," Gandalf agreed, though his tone suggested he knew something they did not. "But let us not be too hasty. We still have the night ahead of us, and who knows what it might bring?"

"Aye, who knows," Nori said face alight in mischief as he twirled a dagger around his fingers. "After all, If Master Baggins is not here, then that means that we have run of the house. And I don't know about you lad's but I feel it's time to let loose an celebrate our gatherin' what's say you? Shall we throw a proper Dwarven party?"

A roar of approval echoed around the room and with that, the dwarves began to chaotically explore the comfortable home in the ground. They gathered around the dining table, laden with food, and began to share tales of their past adventures, their laughter filling the room, all the while, Thorin noticed Legolas was giving Gandalf suspicious looks, while Gandalf did his best to ignore the Elf entirely.

"Ruva, How much longer till we reach the Hobbit's house?" Dis asked from atop their mounts they were able to bargain from a traveling peddler.

"With the ponies' speed, we should be there by dawn if we run," Ruva answered looking up from the map.

"Then let's hurry, I don't want to accidentally miss Thorin, and the boys as a consequence." Both Nimli and Ruva nodded their agreement at Dis and wordlessly sped up. For some reason, the two mothers felt like they were too late. It was nonsensical, they were right on the boy's tail and even if they came along, Thorin would stop at Riverdale and have an Elf escort them back home. Logically it made no sense to feel this way but they couldn't help but feel it all the same.

Ruva noticed the grave expressions on the women's faces, she knew without them having to say it, that something was wrong. So she pushed her pony faster. These women were like family to her and she would not see them suffer more than they already have.

"Aunty Belia, didn't we turn off all the lights before we left?"