Chapter Text
The party of three made their way through the little hills of Hobbiton, looking for one particular door with one particular mark. They searched high and low, until they came upon a round green door with a mark on the side. This was it.
The eldest of the little group reached out his hand and knocked on the door. They heard footsteps from inside, and then the door swung open. In front of them was a little man with large feet wearing a very homely dressing gown. At the sight of the three, he gave a little noise somewhere between a grumble and a whimper.
The oldest two of the group stepped up. “Fili,” said one. “And Kili,” said the other. Then together, “At your service.” The youngest of the trio stepped forward.
“And I’m Anwynn,” she said, dipping her head. “Also at your service.”
“You must be Mr. Boggins!” said Kili, smiling.
“Nope. You can’t come in,” said the little man, Bilbo Baggins. “You’ve come to the wrong house.” He tried to close the door, but Kili put his hand out and caught it.
“What?” he asked. “Has it been cancelled?”
“No one told us,” said his brother, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“Can—No, nothing’s been cancelled,” answered Bilbo, perplexed.
“That’s a relief!” said Kili, pushing his way into the little hobbit hole and dropping his weapons on the floor. His brother came striding in after him, inspecting the place. Anwynn came in last, smiling apologetically at Mr. Baggins; it seemed he was not expecting company tonight.
Fili turned to Mr. Baggins and began to unload his weapons. He started with his large sword, thrusting it into the hobbit’s arms. “Careful with these, I just had them sharpened.” Knives and daggers began appearing from everywhere, including his boots. Anwynn decided to be somewhat more polite than her companions; she removed her two long knives and sword from her back and set them in the corner. She piled her various daggers and knives on top of them until she was completely unarmed; they would be amongst friends tonight, no need for weapons.
As Fili and Anwynn had been disarming, Kili had strode farther inside the little home. “It’s nice, this place,” he said. “Did you do it yourself?” And began wiping his boot on an old chest.
“No, it’s been in the family for years,” said Bilbo, distracted by Fili and his weapons. He noticed Kili desecrating the chest and said, “That’s my mother’s glory box. Can you please not do that?”
A large dwarf came into the room. “Fili, Kili, come on. Give us a hand.” He grabbed Kili’s arm and led him away into the dining room.
“Mister Dwalin!” cried Kili, smiling widely and laughing. It had been a very long time since the younger dwarf had seen the other. He seemed to have added a few more tattoos to his bald head since then. Fili and Anwynn followed them into the dining room where they met with the white-headed Balin. Anwynn clasped the old dwarf’s shoulder warmly; she had always had a special place in her heart for Balin. He was the one who helped make her present a possibility.
Balin smiled warmly at the girl, and then turned back to the two younger dwarves. “Let’s shove this in the hall,” he said, indicating the dining table. “Otherwise we’ll never get everyone in.”
“Everyone? How many more are there?” asked Bilbo, who had followed them into the dining room, his arms still full of Fili’s weapons. He sounded a bit hysterical. All in the dining room ignored him as they tried to move the table. “Where do you want this?” asked Kili. Bilbo abandoned his questions when his doorbell rang again and traipsed off to answer it.
“There’s nobody home!” Anwynn heard him shout. “Go away and bother somebody else! There’s far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is. I-if this is some clot-head’s idea of a joke,” he gave a small hysterical giggle, “I can only say it is in very poor taste!”
And with that he opened the door. There was a large thump and a lot of mutters and groaning; eight dwarves had fallen through the front door. As they disentangled themselves, Gandalf the Grey stepped in over them, careful not to hit his head in the low ceiling.
Not long after, Bilbo’s house was filled with activity, mainly all in the preparation of food. And Bilbo Baggins did not seem at all to like this.
“Put that back. Put that back! Not the jam, please! Excuse me. Excuse me…” The poor little Hobbit pulled at his braces while trying fruitlessly to order the Dwarves to leave his home alone.
“Tad excessive, isn’t it?” he asked as Bombur, a rather rotund Dwarf, made off with three wheels of cheese. “Have you got a cheese knife?”
“Cheese knife?” Bombur’s brother Bofur, a jolly sort of fellow, answered. “He eats it by the block!”
Anwynn made her way over as Bilbo was telling off old Oin for moving a chair. Here she found the little group she had arrived with: her husband Fili and his younger brother Kili. They were attempting to open a barrel of ale. Basically, they were giving the barrel really nasty looks and making exasperated motions.
Bless them, Anwynn thought. They are precious when they’re stupid. She had to giggle when she saw the boys give up and haul the barrel into the dining room for Dwalin to muscle open.
From there it was a scramble to find a place at the table, and when she did, Anwynn felt a bit uncharacteristically hot and claustrophobic. She was in between Kili and Ori, and was suddenly finding it very hard to breathe. She found herself a bit dizzy as the other Dwarves cheered when Bombur caught an egg in his mouth. This sudden wooziness troubled her, but she just chalked it up to the heat in the very crowded dining room and the layers of clothes she was wearing. She took a few gulping breaths and sorted herself out in time to look up and find her husband walking down the table, handing out ales. Anwynn knew that Dwarves did not have the best table manners and was used to this sort of behavior, but she did still wince when she thought of what all this ruckus was doing to poor Mister Bilbo.
“Who wants an ale?” Fili called out, ducking low as he walked.
“Over here, brother!” yelled Kili, reaching out for one of the tankards. Fili tried to hand one to Anwynn with a knowing smile; everyone was aware of how much she liked her ale. However, Anwynn had to refuse.
“No thank you, love,” she said quietly with a small smile. “I’ll pass. I think I’ll just have a glass of water; haven’t been feeling too well lately.”
Fili gave her a concerned nod, but moved on and hopped off the table.
“Ale on the count of three!” Bofur yelled, and on two all the Dwarves raised their tankards to their mouths and chugged. Next came a round of belching, with Ori surprising everyone.
“I knew you had it in ya!” cried Bofur while Ori’s brother Nori clapped proudly. Anwynn patted the lad on the back with a smile. “Nice one, Little Ori!” Ori just grinned.
Fili returned shortly after with a glass of water. Setting it down in front of Anwynn, he crouched down beside her.
“Are you alright?” he asked, looking at her worriedly.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she answered, taking a sip from the glass. “Thank you.”
“You’re sure?” Fili laid a hand on her arm, giving it a small squeeze.
“Yes, I’m alright,” said Anwynn. “It’s nothing. Probably just excitement and nerves doing funny things to my stomach. I’ll be right as rain in time.” She gave him a bright smile, hoping what she said was true.
Fili returned the smile hesitantly, but did not ask her about it again. Instead he grabbed plates for them both and began to scavenge for what food he could lay his hands on.
As dinner was winding down, the Dwarves started about clearing the table. Anwynn, who had noticed that their host had not been able to catch even a crumb, managed to sneak away three sausages, a small slice of bread, and a little hunk of cheese. It was not much, but with how much Dwarves usually eat, it was lucky to have survived. She found her way over to Bilbo, who was still standing in his pantry, staring vacantly at the shelves.
“Here you are, Mister Bilbo,” she said softly, hoping not to scare the little man. He jumped anyway.
“Huh?” he murmured, turning around.
“A bit of supper for you, since I saw you didn’t get anything. It’s not much, I’m sorry.” She handed over the plate to the Hobbit.
Bilbo stared down at the plate. “Thank you,” he said faintly, and began to nibble distractedly at the bread. Anwynn gave the poor fellow a sympathetic smile and went off to find her husband and his brother.
Bilbo seemed to recover from his shock later, and after having words with Nori and Bofur about his doily (Anwynn had to appreciate Bofur’s “if you’ve got the balls for it” comment), he found himself shouting hysterically at Gandalf about how the Dwarves had messed up his plumbing.
While the other Dwarves were busy cleaning up, lighting pipes, and tormenting their host, Fili pulled Anwynn aside into a little out-of-the-way corner.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, eyebrows raised and knitted in concern. In the years he had known her, she had never had more than a case of the sniffles. She just did not get sick.
“I am alright,” said Anwynn, annunciating each word. “I’ll be fine. It’s just nerves and excitement. And the heat in the dining room probably didn’t help. All these layers.” She gave Fili a small scowl.
“You already don’t look very Dwarven,” said Fili seriously. “All the layers are to disguise you. And all your curves. I’ll not have anyone centering you out because you look like a woman. Besides, you’ll be thankful for all those layers when we’re out on the road. All the warmth you can get.”
“Be that as it may,” said Anwynn, rolling her eyes somewhat childishly, “it is probably the reason for my feeling ill. Don’t worry, it’s probably nothing more than that. Once I’ve had time to cool off and wrap my head around the fact that we’re actually going, I’ll be fine.” She took his hand and gently squeezed it, giving him a reassuring smile. “Now, why don’t you go and have a little fun? You haven’t seen everyone in a long time, join in the revelry while there’s still joy to be had!”
At just that moment, they heard Ori wander up to their host and ask where he should put his plate. Fili gave Anwynn a sly grin and a wink, then hurried off to cause havoc.
“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but where should I put my plate?” Ori asked in his polite manner.
“Here you go, Ori. Give it to me,” said Fili, appearing from around the corner. He took the plate and flung it at Kili, who had just stepped out of the kitchen. He looked up in time to catch the plate flying at his head and throw it at Bifur, who was standing ready at the sink. From there, the Dwarves broke loose, and Bilbo almost had a heart attack.
“Blunt the knives and bend the forks,
Smash the bottles and burn the corks.
Chip the glasses and crack the plates,
That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!
Cut the cloth, tread on the fat,
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat.
Pour the milk on the pantry floor,
Splash the wine on every door!
Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl,
Pound them up with a thumping pole.
When you’re finished, id they are whole,
Send them down the hall to roll!
That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!”
But it was alright in the end, when all the dishes were clean and remarkably whole. Bilbo’s face was a mixture of amazement, cross, and relief. The Dwarves all had to laugh at his reaction, and even Anwynn found herself giggling. The moment passed, however, when there was a heavy knock at the door. Gandalf was the first to speak.
“He is here.”
The round green door was opened to reveal Thorin Oakenshield, their King and leader.
“Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice.”
Beside her, Anwynn felt Fili shake with the effort not to laugh. His uncle was always so stoic and royal, he and his brother found it hilarious when Thorin admitted he had a fault. He recovered himself, however; he was Thorin’s heir after all. He had to be mature. Next to him, Kili let out a snort. Kili had no such requirement.
After insulting the Hobbit (and at this point in the evening, Anwynn had the greatest of pity for Bilbo; his home had been invaded, all his food had been eaten, and now he was insulted in his own doorway) the Company moved back into the dining room. Anwynn took a seat between Fili and Kili at the far end of the table.
As Bilbo fixed and served Thorin a bowl of soup (the very last of his larder), Thorin shared with everyone that the meeting in Ered Luin had been a failure. Dain would not send men to help them.
“He says this quest is ours, and ours alone,” said Thorin to a disappointed table.
“You’re going on a quest?” asked Bilbo, standing timidly in the doorway.
“Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light,” said Gandalf. Bilbo hurried to light a candle as Gandalf reached into his robes and pulled out a roll of paper. “Far to the East, over river and ranges, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak.”
“The Lonely Mountain,” supplied Bilbo, reading the map between Gandalf and Thorin.
Gloin sat up straighter. “Aye. Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time.”
Anwynn saw Dori roll his eyes at this, and felt his exasperation. While Oin was a very good Healer, his meddling with divination was a bit shaky; according to him, she and Fili should be three children in by now. Clearly, they were still childless.
“Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold,” Oin explained. “When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.”
Bilbo seemed to peak up at that. “Uh, what beast?”
“Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age,” volunteered Bofur, taking his pipe from his mouth. “Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meathooks, extremely fond of precious metals.”
Anwynn could not help but shiver. Ever since she had come to live with the Dwarves, she had heard the stories. How Erebor was lost when the dragon Smaug burned down the town of Dale and took the mountain for himself. Thorin had been a prince of Erebor at the time, and had every right to be bitter. Because of Smaug he had lost his kingdom and home, as well as his grandfather, father, and younger brother. He had been forced to lead the refugees of Erebor into the Blue Mountains and establish a settlement there. He never went into much detail about the journey between and the battles they fought, but it was obvious he wished nothing more than for Smaug to never have set upon Erebor.
Balin was now trying to impress upon the other Dwarves the seriousness of their quest.
“The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us,” he said, looking around, trying to meet everyone’s eye. “But we number just thirteen. And not thirteen of the best, nor brightest.”
The other Dwarves all grumbled at the insult, including Kili.
“Hey, who are you calling dim?” Anwynn heard him mutter. She could not help but think back a few hours ago to the ale barrel. On her other side, she heard Fili speak up.
“We may be few in numbers, but we’re fighters. All of us. To the last Dwarf!”
The other Dwarves burst out in agreement, and Fili gave his trademark accomplished smirk, then nodded towards his Uncle Thorin. Fili had a natural way with words.
Excited by his brother’s words, Kili piped up. “And you forget, we have a wizard in our Company! Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!” He looked positively giddy.
Gandalf, however, choked on his pipe smoke. His discomfort was obvious, and only became more so as the other Dwarves heckled him for a number. The heckling quickly became a full-scale argument, complete with shouting and pounding of the table. Just when Anwynn thought she might have to duck out of the room for her own safety (she might be strong, but her strength was nothing compared to even one of her companions), Thorin shouted out above everyone else. Anwynn listened to Thorin in awe as he spoke of reclaiming what they had lost when Smaug attacked. At the end of this rousing speech, she cheered as loud as the others, even though she was not a Dwarf, let alone a descendant of Erebor.
As the meeting went on, the Company was informed that Thorin’s father was indeed dead but had passed along a key to Gandalf before he died, which now belonged to Thorin. It would open a secret door on the side of the mountain, as the front gate was sealed. Gandalf also proposed that Mister Bilbo Baggins was just the burglar they would need to find this door and deal with the dragon on the other side. The Hobbit protested, but accepted the contract and read it over. He seemed to balk when he came across words such as “lacerations,” “eviscerations,” and “incineration.” He appeared to lose all his strength when Bofur began describing gruesome deaths at the hands of a dragon, and altogether fainted at “Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You’re nothing more than I pile of ash!”
Anwynn would remember later to give the miner a sharp swat to the back of the head.
Fili and Gloin helped Bilbo into an arm chair by the fire while Anwynn made him a cup of tea, and then they left him to hash things out with Gandalf.
Fili and Kili joined Anwynn again outside the dining room where she was leaning against a wall.
“And what are you up to?” asked Kili, giving her a playful smile while searching around in his pack.
“Nothing,” replied Anwynn, trying not to sigh as she spoke. “Just here. Resting.” She saw Fili’s concerned look and headed him off. “It’s a lot, all this. Just trying to take it all in. What are you two doing, then?”
“We are intent on a little smoke,” answered Kili, pulling his pipe victoriously from his pack and standing. “Care to join us?”
Anwynn could feel her stomach rise at the mere thought. “Ah, no. I think not. But I’ll keep you company. Would you mind if we all went outside? I’d like some air.”
Now Kili looked as concerned as his brother. “You feeling okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, fine,” she lied, not looking at Fili. “It’s just that thirteen Dwarves in a small space just after supper does not make for a very pleasant smell.” And with that, she made for the odd circular door, ignoring the feel of Fili’s eyes on her back.
Outside, Anwynn took a seat on Bilbo’s little bench while the boys stood off to either side of her.
“So, we’re going then,” said Kili, breaking the silence as he lit his pipe, then passed the flame to his brother.
“Seems so,” answered Fili nonchalantly. “We have our burglar, we have our Company, and we have a way in.”
“Now with a lot of luck, we just might actually make it,” said Anwynn, tipping her head and looking at the stars. They were magnificent in this quiet sleepy Shire. It was hard to imagine the dangers that lay ahead of them while sitting in this lovely little place.
Both boys hummed their agreement and went about puffing their pipes. Anwynn caught a whiff of the smoke and felt her stomach turn. While she was not very fond of the pipe, she at least smoked it for social reasons and she had never had this reaction to it before.
It’s nothing, she thought. Just tired from a long journey and overstimulated by the noise and food. That’s all. A good night’s sleep and I’ll be fine, she tried to convince herself. She tried to push out of her mind the fact that she had felt off at night for going on a month or so now. Nothing, just excitement and nerves. That’s all. She took in another deep breath of air and felt herself calm.
“I hear some singing is about to start,” said Fili. And indeed, Anwynn heard a deep humming that could only belong to Thorin Oakenshield. She felt a thrill run through her; humming meant singing, and she loved it when Dwarves sang. There was something altogether different about how they sang compared to Men.
Fili and Kili traipsed up and into the door, Anwynn following. They made their way into Bilbo’s little sitting room where they found the others arranged by the fire. Kili went to find a place near the couch while Fili took a place next to the hearth, opposite Thorin. He pulled Anwynn close and she rested her hand on his arm, gripping his coat lightly. The humming continued as everyone gathered, and then Thorin began the lyrics.
Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old.
We must away ere break of day,
To find out long-forgotten gold.
The pines were roaring on the height,
The winds were moaning in the night.
The fire was red, the flaming spread,
The trees like torches blazed with light.
Once the song had died away, everyone lingered for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. Thorin brought them out again when he began to speak.
“Everyone find a place to lay down and sleep,” he said quietly. “We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and I would like an early start. Goodnight.” And with that, everyone began to move.
Anwynn and the boys set up their blankets by the front door where there was more room. The three lay whispering a while, grateful to have a roof above their heads for once after weeks of camping in the out of doors and how things were going to go on the journey. They had already talked that subject to death, however, and soon Anwynn heard Kili’s snuffling snores from somewhere on her right. She had just turned on her side when she felt Fili grab her hand.
“Anwynn,” he said. She could just make out his face in the dark. “This is it. We start the real journey tomorrow. And there’s no telling what we’ll find along the way. I know you’re a strong fighter, but I still want you to be careful. You know I was against you coming with us—”
“But you also know there was no way you were going to stop me,” Anwynn cut in quickly.
Fili gave a quiet laugh. “Yes, that is true. You’re stubborn with a head like granite when you’ve a mind for something.” He kissed her hand and Anwynn could feel his smile. “But all the same, I worry about what might happen to us on the road; especially you. Just…be careful when you can, dove.”
“Aye,” agreed Anwynn, rubbing her thumb over Fili’s hand. Fili pulled her so she was snuggled against him and laid her hand over his heart.
“I love you, my dove,” he whispered against her ear.
“And I love you,” she said back, settling herself against him before drifting off to sleep.