I've gotten several questions regarding this, so I do want to answer them by saying that yes, this story is a re-upload. However, it is not a rewrite - just old chapters getting reposted. Hope that clears things up!

Chapter Five

A Company and a Contract

"I'm telling you, it's not right!"

The exasperated voice cut through the early morning like a whip, and Kate paused in her steps, still hidden in the stables from when she had returned Ben's leather polisher. She peeked around the corner to the outside, where four dwarves were making their way from the inn to the stables.

She recognized Balin from the day before, with his snow-white hair and deep red robes that reminded her of Santa Claus, but the other three she had not yet met. One of them was built like a barrel, with elaborately-braided grey hair and a short sword in a scabbard strapped to his waist. The other two could pass for brothers, but one had grey hair that matched the first dwarf and carried some sort of horn stuck in his ear, while the other's was a fiery red that would put even The Little Mermaid to shame.

The stockier dwarf with the sword continued to speak as they came closer, and Kate pretended to busy herself with organizing the horseshoes on the wall as she eavesdropped, having a sneaking suspicion they were talking about her.

"Thorin has made his decision, and it is final," Balin said, and the tone of his voice made it sound as if he had been over the same argument a dozen times. "The woman comes."

"Balin, have some sense about you," one of the others said gruffly. "Having a woman accompanying us is not only dangerous but unwise. What would happen if we were attacked, and one of us fell defending her? What if she were to find out about the quest?"

"What quest?"

Kate stepped out of the stables with a politely puzzled smile, and the four dwarves stopped in their tracks. Perhaps her confrontation was a tad dramatic, but she simply couldn't help herself – it had been a prime opportunity.

Balin gave her a warning look upon seeing her, but she shot him a subtle wink, her grin growing wider when the others began to cough awkwardly and mutter.

"None o' your concern, that," the one with the red hair said, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

"Then perhaps you should keep your voices down, lest someone overhear things not meant for their ears." She gave them all a pointed glance, and they at least had the decency to look abashed, though the one with the ear device seemed utterly confused as to what was happening.

"They meant no harm, Miss Miller, I assure you," said Balin hastily. "Get your ponies, lads, and start packing. Thorin wants us out of the village by mid-morning," he told the dwarves, and with sullen nods and averted eyes in her direction, they entered the stables to retrieve their ponies, leaving her alone with Balin.

"Thorin told me that you intend to keep my mark a secret," she said once the others were out of earshot, and Balin sighed.

"Aye, I know," he said. "I advised him against it, but he would hear none of my counsel." He frowned. "I do not think he quite believes your tale, Miss Miller, but I can hardly blame him – I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around it myself."

"But you saw it," she protested. "You heard Mahal speak to you. Why should the rest of the Company not have the same right?"

"And I agree with you, Miss Miller, but Thorin is our king," he said, injecting a hint of steel into his voice. "His word is law, his orders not to be disobeyed. There is not much I can do besides advise him to the best of my ability." He sighed again, and Kate suddenly wondered how much sleep he had gotten the night before. "Perhaps once the quest begins he will change his mind, but right now there is not much I can do to dissuade him from his current course."

Kate swallowed back her arguments, not wanting to bother the elderly dwarf when he was already under immense pressure. Instead, she only nodded curtly.

"I hope so, Master Balin," she said. "After all, I'm here to help, and I can't really do much if no one knows who I really am or what my true purpose is."

Balin nodded in agreement. "Aye. But for now, let's just focus on getting on the Road, shall we?"

He smiled kindly before moving off into the stables, and Kate sighed, wandering back over to Molly.

There was not much else she could do besides sit and wait, and she stroked Molly's velvet nose gently, watching the flurry of activity around her steadily grow as more and more dwarves went to the stables to load their ponies. Bofur was nice enough to wave to her when he saw her sitting cross-legged on the ground next to a grazing Molly, and she waved back, relieved that at least one person didn't seem to mind her.

She tilted her face up to the sky, letting the gradually strengthening light from the sun warm her cheeks, the last of the summer dew dissipating rapidly. Her peace was shattered, however, when something solid bumped against her shoe, and she looked down to see a red apple rolling gently in the grass beneath her.

"I'm terribly sorry about that!" someone said, rushing over to collect the apple, and she recognized a hobbit as he bent down and retrieved the runaway fruit, shining the skin with the sleeve of his coat. "Must've fallen out of my pack somehow." His hair was a mop of light brown curls, and his features were elfin and mischievous like a fairy's despite the air of respectability he cast, and she suddenly had a very good idea of who this hobbit was.

"No need to be sorry," she said, sticking out her hand. "Kate Miller."

The hobbit's eyes lit up in recognition as he shook her hand. "Ah, yes. Gandalf mentioned something about you journeying with us last night. I am Bilbo Baggins."

She grinned. Suspicion confirmed.

"Aye," she said, "he also mentioned that a hobbit would be our companion, as well."

Bilbo chuckled, scuffing his large, hairy foot on the ground uncomfortably as he said, "Yes, well, that I am. Dunno why, really – blasted wizard and his grand talks of adventure and all…"

He trailed off, beginning to mutter to himself before realizing she was still there and clearing his throat. "Er, well, it's nice meeting you, Miss Miller, but I really should be going. Ponies are not familiar territory and, I, uh, don't seem to have much experience packing one."

"Oh, do you need help?" she asked.

"Er – yes, actually, if you don't mind—" he said, looking immensely relieved, and he offered her a hand up. He was small, only the size of a child compared to her, coming up to about her chest and giving her a false sense of grandeur.

He showed her to where his pony was munching on the sparse grass outside of the stables, her golden coat gleaming in the new morning sun. Kate collected one of Bilbo's saddlebags while he replaced the apple into the pack he carried on his back and swung it off, bringing it over to the pony.

"She's pretty," Kate remarked, patting the pony's rump. "Does she have a name?"

"A name?" Bilbo repeated, and she nodded. "Why, I don't think so. Should ponies have names?"

"Not necessarily," she said, beginning to attach the saddlebag. The pony swished her tail at her but otherwise stayed still. "It's just nice, y'know? After all, you're going to be acquainted with her for a while. So, why not?"

"Hm," Bilbo said, his face scrunching in thought for a moment. "What about Myrtle?"

Kate grinned. "I think it's a wonderful name."

The newly christened Myrtle snorted as if to agree, and Bilbo smiled, helping her load the pony and watching what she did to keep the bags in check. He was a fast learner, she was pleased to discover, and soon enough, they had packed Myrtle properly.

"You've been a great help, Miss Miller," he said when they were finished, appraising their work approvingly. "I would have asked one of the others, but, ah, they don't seem too fond of me."

Kate snorted. "Join the club, Master Baggins."

Bilbo gave her a tentative grin. "Bilbo. Just Bilbo."

She smiled back. "Then call me Kate."

They stood in amiable silence, watching the chaos around them before Gandalf spotted them and made his way over, his pointy hat atop his head and staff in hand.

"Ah, Miss Miller; Bilbo," he said genially. "I'm glad to see you two have already acquainted yourselves. Good, good."

"When do you expect we'll be leaving?" Bilbo asked. "The morning is very nearly gone."

"Eager to be on the Road again, are we?" Gandalf said, raising his bushy brows, and Bilbo pulled a face that made Kate scoff. The wizard looked at her pointedly. "Thorin and the others should be ready soon. They are dealing with a minor issue that must be resolved before we can depart."

Kate had to refrain from rolling her eyes. She had never met dwarves more stubborn than these, and they were beginning to piss her off before they had even left Bree.

"What now?" she said irritably, and Gandalf gestured to the inn.

"Thorin had Balin write up another contract for you last night," he said. "They wanted to go over it with you before we all took our leave. I was sent to find you and bring you inside."

"Oh, fine," she said, sighing. "I'll go." She turned back to Bilbo. "Let me know if you need any more help before we leave. I'll be right back."

The hobbit nodded, waving her goodbye as she followed Gandalf back to the inn. The wizard slowed his steps until he was even with her, and he gave her a sidelong glance.

"So," he said conversationally, "are you ready for what lies ahead?"

Kate glanced at him, keeping her face and tone neutral. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Gandalf hummed. "It's interesting that Aulë chose you for this particular quest. But I do not claim to know the ways of the Valar, though I have served under them for a long time."

"Trust me, I'm still trying to figure it out myself," she said. She hesitated, her eyes darting to the wizard briefly, suddenly wondering if she should reveal what she knew about the quest. If anyone would be able to help her, it was Gandalf, right?

"Speak, child," Gandalf said, obviously having caught her glance. "A burden weighs heavily on your mind."

"You said yesterday that Aulë chose me because I might possess a valuable skill or knowledge that you all did not," she said. "Well…I do. Knowledge, that is." When he said nothing, she continued. "The world I come from…this quest is already recorded there as a story. Why Mahal chose me specifically, I don't know, but I was familiar with the tale of Thorin Oakenshield and his Company's quest long before I actually came to this world."

"Then foresight is what you suggest?" Gandalf said, and she nodded. The wizard hummed again, looking thoughtful. "Interesting, interesting…" He then looked at her shrewdly. "And I assume you have not told Thorin this?"

She grimaced. "I'm not even sure I can. Mahal didn't give me very thorough instructions – even telling you might be a stretch. Besides, I'm uncertain if things will play out the same way. I was never in the story, and now I am." She frowned. "I just really hope I don't screw things up. Mahal sent me to fix the story, not break it."

"What do you mean?" the wizard asked. "What is it you have been tasked to fix?"

You and your big mouth, Kate thought to herself in disgust, but she knew lying to Gandalf wouldn't be the best option, so she decided to come clean.

"The quest succeeds," she assured him, "but there will be a tragedy. In the story I know, Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli die in the end, during a great battle at the mountain."

"Smaug?" he asked, but she shook her head quickly.

"No, he dies, too. It's complicated to explain, but they called it the Battle of the Five Armies. The dwarves will be one of the armies."

"And the Line of Durin will perish," Gandalf said grimly before looking at her with a newfound twinkle in his eye. "Yet Mahal entrusted you to stop that from happening."

Kate nodded, her gut clenching at the thought of what she had to do, how three lives now rested in her hands without any of them having a clue, but she didn't voice her fear aloud.

"Well," Gandalf said as they reached the inn, "I hope you will succeed in this task, Kate Miller, and know that I offer my help to the best of my ability."

"Thank you," she said gratefully, though the panic was still there, sitting on top of her chest like a cat kneading its claws into her flesh.

Gandalf nodded to the door. "Thorin awaits you inside."

Bidding him farewell, she entered the lounge once again, immediately spotting Thorin sitting at a far table by the fireplace, flanked on either side by Balin and Dwalin.

Wonderful, she thought as she trudged over to them. I get to deal with the firing squad again.

"Gandalf said you had a contract for me to sign?" she said without preamble, taking the seat across from Thorin's and crossing her legs casually.

"Indeed," he said. He pushed a piece of parchment over with a quill and inkpot, and she read through it quickly.

It was not a full contract, she realized with a stab of annoyance; there was no mention of a quest anywhere, just a few paragraphs written in fancy script saying that the Company was not responsible for her if she were to die in any way, yet they would be decent enough to send her remains back to her closest living relatives – Yeah, good luck sending my body back to Earth, she couldn't help thinking – and that she was entirely responsible for herself, and payment would be due upon her arrival to Lake-town to keep up her pretense of why she was traveling with them, which only made her scowl, though she didn't comment on it.

"Simple enough," she remarked, grabbing the quill and jotting her name down on the designated line.

"Katherine Rose Miller," Balin read as he signed his own name, obviously trying to break the tension. "A pretty name."

"Certainly not one my miller father gave me," she said, raising a pointed brow at Thorin. He did not deign this with a response, merely writing out his own name. Kate watched him sign Thorin, son of Thráin beneath Balin, son of Fundin. She noticed Dwalin didn't sign his name, and she wondered if he had only been brought to intimidate her somehow.

"Your real parents, then?" Balin said.

Kate smiled sardonically. "Yeah. That was about the only thing they gave me, too."

At the elder dwarf's questioning look, she elaborated. "I was abandoned before I could even crawl. I grew up in a group home for orphans for the rest of my life. Never bothered to look for them, and they never bothered to look for me."

Balin looked stricken. She had even captured the attention of Thorin and Dwalin, though their faces were so impassive it was hard to tell what they were thinking. She raised her chin a hair in defiance.

"I'm sorry, lass," Balin said. "I should've kept my nose out of it."

"No need for apologies, Master Balin," she said. "It was quite a while ago now."

He still looked slightly ashamed, but she only watched as Thorin melted some wax over the candle on their table, dripping the substance on the parchment before sealing it with his royal insignia.

"That concludes our business," he said, handing the contract to Balin, who tucked it away neatly in his pack. Thorin stood from the table, shouldering his own pack and glancing at her. "Come; we must be on our way."

Kate followed the dwarves out of the inn, looking around for any signs of Barley or Anne, but she assumed they were with the babe when she couldn't find them. Not wanting to leave without some sort of goodbye, she tapped Balin on the shoulder and asked him for a spare piece of parchment and some ink.

He complied willingly but curiously, and she hastily scrawled out a note before leaving it on the bar: Thank you for everything. You are truly some of the best people I have encountered in this world. Give my love to Baby Barley. – Kate

They would find the note strange, perhaps, but it was the best Kate could do. She was not particularly fond of farewells, but the Butterburs had always been kind to her, and she would miss their hospitality and friendly cheer.

"On your ponies," Thorin was saying when she joined them outside. "We've lost a good deal of the day, and we need to make up for lost time."

Kate swung herself easily into Molly's saddle, and the mare whickered, pawing the ground anxiously, wanting to be on the move again. She was used to the open plains of Rohan, and Kate was sure the horse had felt confined within the walls of Bree.

When everyone was properly seated and ready, Thorin gave the order to move out. They passed single-file through the wooden gate of the village, and Kate hesitated, glancing back to The Prancing Pony one last time and wondering if she would ever see it again. It didn't seem likely, if she even survived the quest at all, and she swallowed hard before facing forward again, turning her eyes to the world ahead.

They made good time that day despite their delayed start, coming to camp on the eastern edge of the Chetwood once they had lost the sun. The company made quick work of setting up camp, squabbling over the best patches of ground to lay their bedrolls on, starting a fire, and even getting a pot of stew going provided by Bombur, who seemed to be the Company's unofficial chef.

In fact, Kate had been studying the dwarves all day, content to ride in the back of the column and quietly observe. She noted all the dwarves she did know: Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, Nori, Ori, Bofur, Bombur, Fíli, and Kíli, while also trying to place the others. She knew all their names from the book, of course, but facing the reality was a lot more difficult. She had worked out the names of the three dwarves she had confronted at the stables that morning as being Dori, Glóin, and Óin, and the remaining one had been easy to identify as Bifur.

She had been shocked to realize that an ax-head had been embedded in Bifur's skull, and it seemed he could only communicate in Dwarvish and some sign language, and she had marveled at the inaccuracy of Tolkien's story, wondering if he had even known of the dwarves he had made as his characters. That only made her head pound with questions she didn't know the answers to, like how Tolkien had even known of this world and this quest in the first place, and she had quickly ended that train of thought.

She sat on the edges of the camp, running a whetstone down the length of her sword just for something to do. No one seemed keen on including her in their conversations, but she found she didn't mind that much – after all, she would be traveling with them for almost a year if things went according to plan, and there were plenty more nights to get to know them all. The solitude was what she really needed at that moment; the dwarves were already proving to be exhausting with their suspicious looks and stubborn natures, but at least with only her sword for company, she wouldn't feel judged.

The blade glowed dully from the light of the fire, the iron almost bronze when the flames combined with the shadows of the night. Rodric had given it to her as a gift in Rohan before she had left to travel back north, and though it was not one of the swords a Rider would use, it was still a fine Rohirrim blade; Rodric had called it a bastard sword, as it was not a one-handed longsword nor a two-handed broadsword, but a hand-and-a-half sword that straddled between agility and heavy damage – a fine weapon to have on a quest like hers with its many dangers.

The grip was a rich black leather that conformed easily to her fingers, and the pommel and cross-guard were also iron to match the blade itself. The pommel, Rodric had told her, had been a horse head before, but he had switched it to a circular piece of iron with a single onyx stone set in the center, to detract attention from her connections with Rohan. It had been the best gift she had ever received, and though she had yet to use it in battle, she got the feeling that her opportunity was coming sooner rather than later.

"What're you doing all by your lonesome over here?" Bofur said, startling her from her thoughts when he plopped himself on the ground beside her, a cheerful smile on his face.

"Just sharpening my sword," she said, holding up the whetstone in her hand and shaking it vaguely. "Nothing too exciting, I assure you."

Bofur looked curiously at the sword in her lap, and she fought the urge to hide it from view as he said, "That's a nice blade. Do they have forges in your village?"

Oh, right, miller's daughter. "They're decent enough, but I'm sure they're nothing compared to dwarven forges."

"Aye, I think I'd agree with that," he said, grinning. "Dwarf forges are as big as the mountains themselves, and our smiths could surpass any of those in the world."

Kate suddenly found herself intrigued. "Were you a smith?"

"Me?" Bofur laughed. "No, lass, I was a miner. I tinkered with my brother and cousin a bit on the side, fashioning ourselves as toymakers, but I was too impatient for the smiths. Forging is a long and slow process, and I began to find ways to entertain myself in the meantime – much to the disapproval of the masters, o' course."

"Indeed?" Kate said, raising a brow. "I could imagine so, Master Bofur; you seem like a wily fellow."

"More than just that, lass," he said, winking at her, and she couldn't help but chuckle. He gestured to the circle around the fire. "Why don't you come get some stew? Bombur just finished up, and there's plenty to go around."

Kate hesitated; she was hungry, for sure, but dealing with the dwarves' scrutiny again was not an appealing option. Knowing she could not go to bed on an empty stomach, however, she resigned herself and nodded to the ever-cheerful dwarf, who helped her up with a sturdy grip.

She sheathed her sword as she followed Bofur to the fire, waiting patiently as he grabbed her a small wooden bowl from their supplies that he used to ladle the stew into. It smelled wonderful, and her stomach growled as she took a seat next to the hatted dwarf, who had already gone back for seconds.

The dwarves seemed too intent in their own discussions to have noticed her much, but she took this as a blessing and wolfed down her stew in the meantime. The flavor was rich and delightful, and cooked perfectly; she would have to commend Bombur on his cooking skills if ever she got the chance. Most of the Company seemed content to leave her to her own devices, but she would have to gain their trust eventually if she were to follow them to the mountain without conflict. However, Thorin was making that very difficult by forbidding her to reveal Mahal's mark to anyone else, even if it would make the whole trusting process go a lot faster.

She scowled at the reminder of the dwarf king's words and unconsciously began glaring at him from across the fire, where he sat quietly between Dwalin and Fíli, finishing up his own stew. Those three were the ones she would have to work with the most if she was going to get anywhere on this quest, and the thought did nothing to please her.

As if sensing her eyes on him, Thorin looked up and met her gaze across the circle. His eyes looked almost black in the gloom, but she could feel them assessing her, watching her every move.

"You're from around the Chetwood, aren't you, Miss Miller?"

Kate broke eye contact with Thorin when Bofur nudged her shoulder slightly, and she glanced around to find everyone staring at her. It did nothing to bolster her confidence, especially after being put on the spot like that, and she silently cursed Bofur and his incessant chatter.

"Aye," she said, scraping the bottom of her bowl with the crude utensil she had been given. "Er, my village isn't near here, though. We were closer to the Midegwater Marshes than the Road."

"Apparently, they have decent forges there too," Bofur chimed in knowledgeably, and Kate resisted the urge to smack him upside the head with her bowl. "Miss Miller has herself a sword from there."

"A sword?" Kíli said from his place beside Fíli. "What kind of sword?"

Kate kept her eyes down. "The sharp and pointy kind."

Bofur snorted, and even Kíli looked amused. "Well, come on, then, let's see it."

Knowing the persistence of prodding dwarves, she sighed and unsheathed her sword, holding it closer to the fire for better light.

"It's a bastard sword," she explained; unnecessarily, since they were all dwarves with obvious knowledge of weapons, but she continued anyway. "Broadswords are too heavy for me and longswords don't have enough power, but this one does just fine."

"Does it have a name?" Kíli asked, sounding genuinely interested, but she shook her head.

"Swords are known for their great deeds in battle," she said. "Mine has yet to see one, so…"

She trailed off, shrugging, and the dwarves muttered amongst themselves, casting her indecipherable looks every now and then. She sheathed her blade again, returning to the remnants of her stew when it seemed they were done asking questions.

"Get some sleep, all of you," Thorin said a few minutes later. "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

The Company dispersed from the fire, retreating to their bedrolls and falling asleep so quickly that Kate wondered if the stew had been laced with some sleeping potion. She took her time preparing for bed, rinsing out her bowl with the leftover water from her waterskin and making sure she had everything ready for the morning before curling up on her own bedroll and looking at the stars above her where they peeked through the branches of the trees.

The snores of the dwarves echoed, loud in the quiet of the night, and she closed her eyes, suddenly feeling lonelier than ever as she fell into a fitful sleep.