As Gandalf led the company of dwarves along the East Road, Sirius, in his hobbit disguise as Jimmy, followed at the rear of the group, keeping a watchful eye. He had quickly learned that dwarves, though brave and strong, had a tendency to get easily distracted. Their attention would often wander to the most unexpected things—a peculiar stone formation, an interesting tree, or even just a passing cloud that looked like something from an old tale.
One incident had already proven this. Kili, ever the curious one, had spotted a distant mountain that from a certain angle seemed to resemble a woman. His brother Fili was quickly drawn into a discussion, both of them standing there, pointing and debating whether the "lady mountain" was truly there or just an illusion. It took Sirius a while to notice their absence, and by the time he doubled back, the two brothers were still engrossed in their conversation, oblivious to the fact that the rest of the company had marched on.
There was also the time Balin, the oldest and wisest of the company, had been so captivated by the sight of a grand, ancient tree that he had simply stopped moving altogether. He stood there, gazing at its twisting branches as if lost in a memory. The other dwarves had continued riding ahead without realizing Balin had been left behind.
From that moment onward, Sirius decided to take up the rear. With a knowing look, he positioned himself at the back of the group, keeping the dwarves within his line of sight at all times. He couldn't afford to let them get too far ahead of themselves—or too far behind. This journey was too important for such distractions.
Sirius chuckled quietly to himself as he watched them now, seeing their heads turn whenever they spotted something interesting. "If I don't keep an eye on them," he thought, "we'll never make it to the Lonely Mountain."
Though the dwarves' curiosity could be endearing, Sirius knew it could also lead to delays—or worse, danger. They had a long and perilous road ahead, and he wasn't about to let them get lost or fall behind again. He stayed vigilant, using subtle magic when necessary to nudge them back on track or to hasten their steps when they lingered too long.
As they traveled, the landscape around them shifted from rolling hills to denser woods, the East Road stretching out endlessly before them. With every passing mile, Sirius remained focused, ensuring that the company stayed together, all while masking his true identity as a powerful wizard from his companions.
Despite the dwarves' occasional wandering, the journey continued, and with Sirius at the back, they were sure to reach their destination—eventually.
Several days of long and arduous travel finally brought the company to the Last Bridge, the ancient crossing over the River Hoarwell. This bridge marked the border between the lost realms of Cardolan and Rhudaur, once great kingdoms of men but now fallen into ruin. The journey had been difficult, and although Sirius was no stranger to enduring harsh conditions, he found that the constant grumbling of the dwarves only added to the strain.
The road had been rocky and uneven, the weather unpredictable, with cold winds cutting through their clothes and the occasional drizzle soaking them to the bone. The dwarves, known for their resilience underground, were less tolerant of such hardships above the surface. They complained about their low food rations, the rough ground they had to sleep on, and the biting chill of the wind. At times, it seemed they could find fault with nearly anything—whether it was the too-hard bread they had left or the discomfort of riding on ponies for such long stretches.
Thorin Oakenshield, however, was the exception. The Crown Prince of Erebor, he marched ahead with a silent, grim determination, never once joining in with his companions' complaints. Sirius had come to respect Thorin's quiet strength, though he could see the weight of responsibility hanging heavy on the dwarf's shoulders. Thorin's thoughts were always on Erebor, the Lonely Mountain, and the quest to reclaim the homeland of his people from the dragon Smaug. He had no time for complaints.
Sirius, disguised as Jimmy the hobbit, often found himself caught between the complaining dwarves and the ever-focused Thorin. At times, he sympathized with the company. After all, it had been days since they had a proper meal or rest. But then again, Sirius had traveled through far worse conditions before—enduring colder nights, harsher terrains, and far greater dangers. Yet, he never let it show, keeping his own discomforts buried beneath a calm, composed exterior.
As they approached the Last Bridge, the dwarves' complaints seemed to lessen, replaced by a quiet awe at the ancient stone structure. It stood as a silent reminder of the long-forgotten kingdoms of Arnor, now reduced to ruins. The air here felt heavy with history, and for once, even the most talkative of the company fell silent.
Gandalf, ever watchful from his position at the front, called for a brief halt. "We'll cross at dawn," he said, his sharp eyes scanning the area for any sign of danger. "But be on your guard. These lands are no longer safe."
The dwarves, despite their grumbling, had come to trust Gandalf's judgment, and none dared question him. As they prepared to make camp for the night, Sirius noticed Thorin standing at the edge of the bridge, staring ahead toward the distant mountains that marked the path to Erebor. There was a quiet resolve in his eyes, a determination that made Sirius wonder what was driving him so fiercely.
As the company crossed the Last Bridge and entered the other side, they were met with a sight that none of them had expected. Even Gandalf, with all his knowledge of Middle-Earth, was taken aback. Before them stretched a bustling town, lively and full of movement, a stark contrast to the desolate, empty lands they had just traversed. Sirius, riding near the back, was equally stunned. He had traveled this road on his way to Hobbiton years ago, and at that time, this town hadn't existed.
The sudden realization of how long he had stayed in the Shire, a place where time seemed to slow and life was simple, struck him hard. Outside the peaceful realm of Hobbiton, the world had moved on quickly. This thriving settlement had sprung up, its inhabitants busy with their lives, building homes, shops, and roads. The passage of time had gone unnoticed by Sirius, as if the years had slipped through his fingers without him realizing.
Gandalf, ever the source of wisdom, dismounted his horse and gazed at the town with a mixture of wonder and quiet contemplation. "Man," he said softly, more to himself than to the others, "they work and they die, but in their short years, they build wonders. Their lives are fleeting, yet they strive harder than any to leave their mark upon the world. Even the least lifespan of creatures can create the most beautiful and enduring structures."
Sirius, pondering Gandalf's words, found them to be true. Men, despite their mortality, were a remarkable race. They thrived in adversity, adapted to whatever life threw at them, and found ways to prosper. The town before them was proof of that. Where once there was only wilderness, a community had emerged, a testament to the resilience and determination of mankind.
The dwarves, for their part, were less interested in Gandalf's musings. Their eyes gleamed with eagerness as they beheld the town. After days of meager rations, sleeping on cold, hard ground, and enduring the harshness of the road, they were ready for the comforts of civilization. A proper meal, a comfortable bed, and a chance to rest their weary bones were all they could think about.
Thorin, however, remained stoic. He glanced at his companions, noting their excitement, but his mind remained focused on the task ahead. "We will rest here, but do not forget our purpose," he reminded them, his voice firm. "Our journey to Erebor is far from over."
The dwarves, though eager for a break, nodded in agreement. They respected Thorin's leadership, even if their stomachs grumbled in protest.
Sirius, still reflecting on Gandalf's words and the passing of time, urged his pony forward as they made their way into the town. The sights and sounds of human life surrounded them—children running through the streets, merchants calling out their wares, and the clinking of hammers from the blacksmiths' forges. This town was alive with activity, and yet, for Sirius, it was a sobering reminder of how much had changed while he had been wrapped in the timeless peace of Hobbiton.
As the company entered the village, the bustling streets quickly fell into a curious hush. The villagers, most of whom had never seen a dwarf, found their attention drawn to the stout figures making their way through town. The sight of thirteen heavily-bearded, broad-shouldered dwarves and a tall, grey-robed wizard was peculiar enough—but their eyes widened even further when they noticed the smallest figure in the group. Sirius, in his hobbit guise as "Jimmy," was easily the shortest among them, even smaller than the dwarves. It made him feel quite out of place as the men of the village towered over him.
Children began to circle around the company, their eyes wide with wonder. One small boy tugged on his mother's sleeve, pointing directly at Sirius. "Look, Ma! Is that a dwarf child?"
The mother, equally perplexed, shushed the boy, though she herself couldn't stop staring at the strange group. "Quiet, now. They're not from here. Best not to bother them."
Sirius glanced around at the villagers, who were staring at him and the company with equal parts curiosity and suspicion. He hadn't expected this town at all. The last time he had passed through these lands, there had been nothing more than a few scattered cottages and quiet fields. Now, a bustling town with shops, homes, and inns stood in its place.
Gandalf noticed the confusion in Sirius's expression and leaned down, speaking softly so only Sirius could hear. "Surprised to see the town, eh?"
Sirius nodded, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar buildings. "The last time I traveled this road, there was nothing here but empty land. It's... changed quite a bit."
As they made their way through the town, Thorin walked ahead, his expression as grim as ever, while the other dwarves were far less composed. Bombur groaned audibly as his stomach rumbled, and the dwarves muttered amongst themselves, eyeing the nearby market stalls hungrily.
"Finally!" Bombur exclaimed, patting his large belly. "Maybe now we can get a proper meal instead of that dry bread we've been gnawing on for days."
"I'd settle for a bed that doesn't feel like it's made of rocks," grumbled Dwalin. His back had been bothering him since they left Hobbiton, and he wasn't shy about letting everyone know.
"Ah, you lot complain too much," Kili teased, nudging his brother Fili. "A bit of discomfort is good for the spirit. Makes you appreciate the finer things when they come."
"Like a proper meal," Fili added with a grin, earning a round of laughter from the company.
As they approached the inn, the innkeeper—a burly man with a thick beard—stood in the doorway, eyeing the group warily. His gaze lingered on Gandalf, unsure of what to make of the tall, robed figure, and then on the dwarves, who clearly looked out of place. But when his eyes landed on Sirius, the innkeeper raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by the hobbit-sized figure amidst the larger dwarves.
Before the innkeeper could say anything, Thorin stepped forward, producing a small pouch of gold from his coat and tossing it to the man. "We'll need food and rooms for the night. We can pay."
The moment the gold landed in the innkeeper's hands, his expression shifted. His initial suspicion was replaced by a warm smile, and he quickly bowed his head. "Of course, of course! Come in, come in! We don't get many travelers 'round here, but we'll make sure you're well taken care of."
The dwarves, eager for food and rest, followed the innkeeper inside without hesitation. The inn was warm and smelled of stews and fresh bread, and within moments, the dwarves were seated around a long wooden table, eagerly awaiting their meal.
Sirius, feeling slightly out of place among the towering men and even the dwarves, found a quieter seat near the end of the table. He wasn't particularly hungry, but the warmth of the inn and the sense of temporary respite was a welcome relief after the long days on the road.
"Jimmy!" Kili's voice broke through Sirius's thoughts. The young dwarf leaned over the table, grinning at him. "You're quieter than usual. Not hungry?"
Sirius smiled, shrugging. "Just... taking it all in, I suppose. It's been a long journey."
"Aye, that it has," Kili agreed, glancing at the sword that now hung by Sirius's side. "You sure you know how to use that thing? It looks a bit big for someone of your... stature."
Before Sirius could respond, Gandalf, who had been quietly puffing on his pipe from across the room, spoke up. "Jimmy may be small, but appearances can be deceiving. You'd do well not to underestimate him, Kili."
Kili raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Is that so?"
Sirius gave a small, confident smile. "I know my way around a blade well enough."
Gandalf nodded approvingly. "That sword will serve you well, Jimmy. Keep it close—it'll glow blue in the presence of goblins or orcs. A useful tool on the road ahead."
Sirius glanced down at the sword. He wasn't entirely sure he'd need such a weapon, given his own abilities, but it was good to have nonetheless. "I'll be sure to keep it handy," he replied.
As the dwarves tucked into their meals, their spirits lifted, and soon the inn was filled with the sound of laughter and clinking mugs. Bombur, his cheeks stuffed with food, let out a satisfied groan. "Now this is a proper meal."
"I'd say it's about time," Bofur chimed in, raising his mug. "Here's to a full belly and soft beds tonight!"
The dwarves cheered, raising their mugs in unison.
Sirius, despite his lingering unease, found himself smiling. For the moment, the weight of their journey seemed to lift, if only briefly. But in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but think about what lay ahead. The Lonely Mountain, and the treasure it held, still loomed large in his thoughts. And despite the comforts of the inn, the real challenges were yet to come.
Author's Note:
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