Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of The Rings or The Hobbit, only my own characters.
Prologue:
Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, King of Durin's Folk, and the heir-apparent under the Mountain, was completely and thoroughly lost.
No matter how many times he recalled the Wizard's instructions, he kept getting turned around. Certain he was heading in the right direction, he'd wander only to find himself facing the same pine he'd come across two times prior.
Now it was dusk, with the sun setting lower every minute into the hillsides where he found himself wandering, and Thorin, frustrated, tired, and hungry, still wasn't any closer to his destination. His dwarven company surely was already at Bag End, wherever that was in the seemingly endless maze of hills that made up the Shire.
Enough eyes were already upon him as it was. Even so, he refused to ask for directions. He'd discovered earlier in the day that Hobbit folk didn't typically receive outside visitors, much less dwarves, if their open staring had anything to say about it. He was a dwarven king with no place to call home, no more than a wandering merchant. People tended to stare no matter where he went. Given the secrecy of this particular matter he was in the Shire for though, Thorin would prefer to reach a place where unfriendly eyes could not be cast upon him.
Cursing the Wizard for the third time in his mother tongue, Thorin set off down the grassy path once more, closely inspecting each circular door that came in his vision for the cursed mark that Gandalf had supposedly issued upon it.
He was about eight doors into the path when he came across something–or he should say someone.
A cloaked figure sat upon one of the fences lining the property of a Hobbit hole, next to a lantern, lit by a simple candlelight. They faced the sky, gazing at the dark abyss above them, the moonlight lighting their cloaked features.
Thorin briefly glanced at the door behind the figure and deepened his frown when he didn't spot the mark he was looking for. Turning his gaze towards the figure, he narrowed his eyes, suspicion running through his veins. The sky was dark and the figure was much too relaxed to be out on the same path as him, an outsider, for that time of night.
The figure didn't appear to have noticed him yet, so Thorin attempted to backtrack and find another way around the cloaked individual. However, he didn't get too far before his boot stepped on a dry twig that he had failed to notice in his hasty escape. The figure quickly turned its head towards his direction, clearly having heard the disturbance.
He cursed his luck for the fourth time.
The cloaked figure remained still, keeping its watchful gaze on Thorin, observing him closely. It unnerved the dwarf.
Despite being already late to the meeting with his company, he stubbornly refused to look away. He was of Durin's blood, and he would not show cowardice to any mere stranger who came across his path.
After a moment, the figure must have seen something, though Thorin was unsure of what, as they jumped off their perch on the fence, beginning to start in the dwarven king's direction. His hand went to clutch one of his hidden daggers that he had in his belt, not yet drawing his weapon to give a warning to the other party.
They must have seen his movement, as the cloaked figure immediately slowed their approach towards the dwarf heir-apparent, bringing their hands up in a gesture to imply they were unarmed–though he very much doubted that based on the light that bounced off the half-hidden hilt of a sword within their cloak.
Upon closer inspection, the cloaked figure stood a couple inches taller than himself, much taller than that of a Hobbit folk, making his suspicions grow. They were too tall to be of his dwarven kin as he was amongst the tallest of his kind, yet they were rather short for being of the race of men.
Another outsider like himself that wasn't part of his party that happened to also be in the Shire? An unlikely coincidence.
Thorin refused to back down, watching the figure carefully. Though they were taller than himself, he was confident that he could take down this opponent if he had to. Not many foe had ever faired well against him in battle.
"Peace, Thorin Oakenshield," came the voice of the cloaked stranger, their hands still held out above their shoulders in the air. "You are amongst allies."
"I do not believe we have met," Thorin ground out, the dwarven king's grip on his dagger tightening. This individual knew his name, yet he was certain that he'd never met them before.
By now, the figure had come within fifteen feet of the dwarf but had stopped their approach completely, tilting their head slightly and continuing to watch every movement of the dwarf.
"We haven't."
Their voice was soft, but in the valley where the sounds of light chirping crickets were the only other noticeable noise, it carried all the way to Thorin's ears as if it had been spoken much closer.
He didn't have time for this.
"Who are you?" Thorin demanded, irritated at the interruption of his task. "What is it that you want?"
The figure regarded him once more, before finally replying.
"I have been instructed by Gandalf to guide you to the rest of your company, seeing as you are late."
Thorin narrowed his eyes. It hadn't slipped his attention that the figure hadn't answered his first question, and he found it odd that while the figure had named Gandalf, Gandalf had failed to mention an addition to his company other than their hobbit burglar he was later to meet.
"How can I trust you?" he bit out, his fingers flexing around his dagger.
The cloaked figure's mouth twitched underneath their hood. "You cannot, I suppose," the figure said, lifting their head slightly, "but you will never reach Bag End if you keep wandering on the outskirts of Waymoot."
Thorin scowled at the figure, carefully regarding them. He was tempted to disarm and dispose of this individual in front of him who seemed to know what they shouldn't know of he and his companions. But as the figure stood silently ahead of his path, making no advances to further their movement, he thought of the Wizard.
Gandalf hadn't mentioned another individual when divulging the information of the quest to him, but wizards were often crafty entities that no one could ever truly predict. It was possible that the gray wizard neglected to reveal all of his will towards the dwarven king, including that of an additional person of unknown origin.
It was late, and Thorin was still no closer to Bag End. Every moment wasted on this confrontation was another moment that his enemies had to decide to go after the Mountain for themselves. That was something he could not let happen.
Coming to a decision, he relaxed his grip on his dagger, though he didn't release it.
"You will lead us to Bag End," he said. "But know this," the dwarf closed the distance between the two, stopping only a few feet from the stranger. "If you double cross me, or if I find you have leaked this information to anyone else, I will personally make sure you regret every walking moment you have left on this land before I kill you and feed your limbs to the first Warg that crosses my path."
The figure remained stoic, only inclining their head slowly to imply that they had heard his statement.
"Understood."
Without another word, the figure turned away from Thorin and walked back the way that they came, grabbing the lantern from the gate from once they perched, though it must have been more for their own sight than his as dwarves could see well with only the moonlight to guide them. Cloak fluttering behind them, the stranger walked further down the path, leaving the Durin heir in the dark.
Not once did the cloaked figure turn back to see if the dwarven king was following, but Thorin imagined that they could hear the sound of his boots crunching on the dirt and rocks that littered the sorry excuse of a road. Though strangely, the stranger themselves made very little sound of their own.
The two walked in a tense silence–or at least it was for Thorin–passing various bushes and hobbit holes. Thorin couldn't help but keep wary of not just his guide, but also of his surroundings, his eyes drawn to every shift in the shrubbery that they passed. However, the figure seemed unconcerned, not once stopping in their stride through the darkened hills of the Shire.
XXX
They were upon a small bridge when the figure stopped and turned towards Thorin. His hand immediately went for his dagger, ready to pull out his weapon should the individual double-cross him. He watched as the figure reached into their cloak and prepared himself for an armed confrontation, but was surprised when instead of a blade, the cloaked individual pulled out an apple, then proceeded to throw it towards him. He barely caught the fruit before it could hit him in the face.
Under his questioning and suspicious gaze, the cloaked figure lightly scoffed.
"Please, if I had wanted to attack you, I would have done it by now." They shook their head and turned back to the path ahead.
"I imagine you are quite hungry," they revealed, "based on the noises your stomach has been making since we passed the East Road three paces ago." They glanced back at Thorin.
Thorin was surprised that the stranger heard his hunger, but he kept his expression flat. While he was used to not eating at a specific schedule, the knowledge that he was hopefully getting closer to a place where his dwarven kin were, along with plenty of warm food, it could not be helped when he started to feel the hunger from the journey more than before.
"There is some time yet before we arrive." The figure continued their forward stride, but at a slower pace. "From what I recall about your kin, they know how to empty any pantry quite well, so I do not know how much food may be left when we get there."
Thorin scrutinized the apple in his hand. Not often did strangers give out food without a price.
"It isn't poisoned, if that is what you are concerned about," the voice of the cloacked individual threw behind their back. "I bought it fresh this morning from a Hobbit farmer." They turned their head back halfway to address the dwarf. "I truly doubt he or his family hold any animosity against dwarves."
Thorin examined the apple in his hand further, then brought it up to his nose to smell. He didn't find anything foul about the food given to him, so he took a tentative bite of the apple, the fruit crunching. It was sweet, but not overly so that it overwhelmed the taste buds of a dwarven folk, who prefer the taste of meat over plants. Still, food was food.
The dwarf quickly took another bite, but he did not let down his guard around this stranger.
He couldn't see from his vantage point, but the figure smiled at the almost inaudible sounds of contentment that came from the dwarven king.
Thorin, remembering that his sister Dís would have his head for his lack of manners, reluctantly thanked the cloaked figure for the fruit. They merely nodded in return, choosing to remain silent for the remainder of their journey.
XXX
They continued in silence again once he finished his apple. The light of the lantern was the only source of light for a long time other than the moonlight that peeked through the trees, with only the faintest flicker of light from within some of the distant hobbit holes that they spotted in the distance.
Eventually, the two ended up in a hilly area with several hobbit holes built within the sides of each hill. Thorin's gaze went to each door, searching for the Wizard's mark, wanting nothing more than to take a rest and eat a warm meal, though his hunger was temporarily quelled by the apple from earlier.
He finally spotted it when they walked around a higher bend of the road. A glowing blue hued mark, a mark of his people that could have only been made by a wizard, stood scratched upon a green hobbit hole door. But even if he hadn't seen the mark, he most certainly would have heard the excited, raucous shouts that could only be that of his dwarven kin. Evidently, they were enjoying their time at their…burglar's…home.
He sighed to himself, shaking his head slightly. They would need to learn to be less conspicuous during the rest of their quest.
He almost didn't want to impose, knowing that he had serious business to discuss once he stepped forth into the hobbit hole. His very presence would dispel their merry mood. Alas, being the king of his people came with certain responsibilities that he had to uphold, whether he liked it or not. And right now, he needed to relay to them the latest information he gathered from the Iron Hills.
As the two approached, the cloaked figure slowed their pace, allowing Thorin to overtake them. He didn't much care, marching up to the door and throwing his hood back, rapping solidly on it two times. The voices inside immediately quieted.
Thorin stood his ground, looking as regal as he usually did, upon hearing large footsteps approaching the door. Then it was opened by the very wizard who had sent he and his dwarven company to the Shire in the first place.
"Gandalf," Thorin stated, looking up at the imposing height of the Gray Wizard while stepping into the hobbit hole. Gandalf opened the door wider for the dwarf to enter.
Thorin began to remove his own cloak. He would not need it inside the Baggins' residence with a fire ablaze.
"I thought you said this place would be easy to find." He turned to his left, seeing Dwalin along with some of the other dwarves watching him, nodding his head in a brief greeting before glancing at the rest of the room where the other dwarves, including his young nephews, stood. He shot a short smile towards them, glad that they had made it to the hobbit hole safely. At least his sister had no cause to kill him...yet.
"I lost my way, twice." The Durin heir folded up his cloak and turned toward Gandalf, watching the wizard's expression carefully. "I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for the mark on the door and the guide you sent to retrieve me." In the background, the hobbit–who could only be Bilbo Baggins–objected to there being any mark on his door.
The wizard, who was in the process of closing the hobbit's front door, looked at Thorin in slight confusion. "Guide?" he lightly mouthed to himself. Before he or the dwarven king could say anything, a hand caught the edge of the door, stopping it from closing completely.
The hand pushed the door back open just enough for the cloacked figure to slip through and walk into the hobbit hole, bending down a bit to avoid hitting the low ceiling.
Immediately, the dwarves tensed at the entrance of the stranger who stood taller than all of them, the exception being the gray wizard who towered quite above them all. The figure inclined their head towards Gandalf briefly, as if communicating something unspoken between the two. Thorin watched as the wizard regarded the stranger before he saw a flash of recognition in his eyes, though taking note of gray wizard's hesitation.
"Ah, yes," Gandalf began. "That guide. I had quite forgotten, if I am to be perfectly honest, that I had sent them." He glanced at the figure who was still looking back at him. "It must have slipped my mind." The figure's mouth twitched upwards momentarily before returning to its neutral position.
If Thorin only knew that Gandalf had met this person only once in his existence, and not even a full day prior. Perhaps that would have changed what would come to be.
Nodding, the stranger walked far enough into the room so that Gandalf could fully shut the door, but they made no move to remove their own cloak. Turning their cloacked head to observe the clearly tense dwarves, the figure only nodded towards the group before striding over to an unoccupied space on the other side of the room.
"And young Master Hobbit, there is indeed a mark," the wizard said, regarding the would-be burglar who was currently gaping like a fish from not only the knowledge of a mark being placed on his newly painted door, but also of two additional uninvited guests entering his home. "I put it there myself."
The hobbit went to object further about the damage to his door, but Gandalf interrupted him, taking lead of the conversation.
"Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company: Thorin Oakenshield."
"So…this is the Hobbit." Thorin assessed their burglar critically, already failing to see what was needed to be an adventurer or a part of his company. He may not have been at the Baggins' residence long, but based on the complaining he had witnessed from Bilbo already, all he could see was a stuck-up homebody who would hinder his company's quest.
"Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?" he asked.
"Pardon me?"
"Ax or sword?" Thorin was impatient. This was a waste of his time. "What is your weapon of choice?"
Bilbo gaped slightly. "Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know…" The dwarven king closed his eyes momentarily and inhaled sharply at the hobbit's reply, frustration and fatigue building upon his temper. "But I fail to see why that's relevant." Thorin stared at Bilbo, disappointment falling across his features. This hobbit was no burglar.
"Thought as much." Thorin turned to Gandalf and raised his voice for his kin to hear. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."
The twelve dwarves heartily laughed at their king's statement, and even more with Bilbo's affronted reaction to being called a burglar. Gandalf sighed but said nothing to defend the hobbit. Bilbo simply had no idea what to say.
"I would have thought that, as dwarves, you all would not judge so quickly someone who you have yet to truly know."
Their dwarven laughter was cut off short at the remark.
Casually leaning against the wall, the cloaked figure was slicing an apple that they somehow had gotten ahold of. Using a dagger that presumably was theirs, they cut the fruit into smaller slices before stabbing into one piece and bringing it to their mouth to eat. The dwarves watched as the mysterious individual paid no mind to their staring, continuing their own task.
Bilbo's eyes widened at the stranger's defense for himself, unsure as to why someone he had never met would stand up for him.
Thorin, on the other hand, had had enough of the stranger's evasiveness and snark.
"You," Thorin began, addressing the stranger in question.
The cloaked figure's head slowly lifted, but they continued slicing the apple in their palm with a certain level of skill that normally would be admired. But for Thorin, it just added to his frustration. "Who are you to criticize what dwarves deem of others? You, who is not of my kin and is the only one yet to reveal their own name?"
His accusatory tone and stony stare set a tense atmosphere amongst the dwarves, wizard, and hobbit within the room. However, the figure only paused in their activity before pocketing their dagger and setting aside their apple on a small plate that was meant more for tea cups instead of a partially cut-up apple.
They pushed off the wall, approaching the irritated dwarf. The others watched the two in anticipation, Dwalin poised and ready to defend his king in case the stranger decided to attack. Just as they would have reached Thorin, the figure stopped, staring at the dwarven king.
"I am…an acquaintance."
Then, to the shock of all in the room, the stranger bowed low to Thorin.
Following the suprised silence, the cloaked stranger straightened their posture, looking directly at the dwarven king, though Thorin could only see the lower half of their face due to the shadows from their hood. Their lips jerked slightly, almost as if amused by something no one else was privy to.
"Call me Randir," the cloaked stranger said. "At your service."
Author's Note: Hi everybody! I'm on a Hobbit binge right now, so I figured I would try writing a story based on a series that I actually have seen before. This is going to have slow updates as my clown college has me doing lots of hands-on work and I barely have any time to sleep as it is. However, I still plan on updating, so hopefully you stick around for it.
I want to take the typical Hobbit fanfic but add some twists of my own that may shake up the cannon of the world we know. We will see.
My OC's backstory will be revealed soon, promise. ;)
As always, if anyone has any tips or wants to review my work, please do. I'm a writer-in-training who loves when people help improve my developing skills.