Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter I: A Lecture on Dragons

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Thorin Oakenshield did not entirely trust Gandalf, but he had researched Professor Baggins extensively enough that he felt somewhat comfortable asking her for help. She was working on her doctorate in Folklore with a thesis on Dwarf folktales and their connections with folktales of other cultures. The Hobbit had been working on her thesis for two years already since there was so little available to non-Dwarves. Professor Baggins had been teaching at Hobbiton University since her undergraduate years and already had a doctorate in Hobbit History. She was the dragon folklore expert in the Western Lands, only to be rivaled by elven professors in the Old Eastern Lands across the Atlantic. Admittedly, she was the only one on the continent, but Thorin could not be choosy as he was in desperate need of her expertise.

It was because of this Thorin was trying to sit in on a lecture of Professor Baggins. He could not find his way around the campus, though it was among the smaller universities he had visited. After asking for directions twice, Thorin entered into a small, empty theater with about a hundred seats. After trying three seats, Thorin realized all of the seats were either broken or were made of sinking cushions. He sat in the back and pulled out the sliding desk top at the side of his chair.

A barefoot woman carrying a large stack of papers and books practically danced into the room as she bobbed her head to the music on her I-Pod. She slapped the stack she was carrying on a table at the front of the room along with a computer bag, a brown jacket, and brown high-heeled shoes.

“Oye, you!” the woman said, pointing at Thorin, “You know the rule: first in sits in the front row for shoe duty.”

“What?” Thorin said.

The woman pulled out her ear buds. “Have you honestly not been paying any attention in these classes, sir?”

“Seeing as this is the first time I have been on this campus, no, I have not,” Thorin said.

“Oooh,” the woman said as she looked properly horrified, “I am so sorry. This class is a blow-off basic course so I don’t get to know my students very well. I am so sorry for being rude. I can go fetch you some tea or…”

“Apology accepted,” Thorin said, “Nothing else is necessary.”

The woman sighed in relief. “Thank you. I am sorry to give such a bad first impression of Hobbiton University.” She walked to the back of the room and held out her hand. “Professor Baggins at your service.”

“Um… Thor Foster at yours,” Thorin said as he shook the Hobbit’s hand. She had a good grip and her hand had just the right amount of heat.

“Pleasure to meet you. Now if you will excuse me, I am going to be fighting with the blasted projector,” Professor Baggins said.

Thorin did not realize people actually skipped around a room instead of walking past the age of five.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

The students arrived within the next five minutes. Most were barefoot like their professor. It was a jolly group of Hobbits who laughed and spoke on cheery topics such as the most recent engagements, the latest movie, or the last lacrosse game. They all became silent almost exactly at the time class started without prompting from their professor.

“Alright, time to return test grades.” Professor Baggins turned back tests to students as she called out their names. “I am disappointed in the essays on the different languages of elves and how they developed. Truly horrifying things were in these tests, let me tell you.”

Professor Baggins flipped off the main lights in the room and began her PowerPoint. “The Great Worms of the North: A Brief History of Dragons”.

Thorin resisted slamming his head against the desk. Of course the day he came would be about dragons.

Baggins began a round of questioning of her students. “Quick recap: what distinguishes the different races of Middle-Earth we have discussed so far? You, ginger with the lovely green vest. Elves.”

“Um… they can live for thousands of years,” the boy said, “They are the First-Born. Very pretty. Um… their magic is generally nature based with a particular slant towards healing and some can even communicate telepathically. They don’t have many children.”

“Very good. Name?” Professor Baggins took down the student’s name. “Okay, Dwarves. You in the purple shirt and green skirt.”

“Um… they all have beards, even the women?” the girl said.

Professor Baggins looked ready to snap a retort before taking several deep breaths. “Dwarves, elves, Men, and Hobbits all basically look the same. They are generally between slightly under five feet and a little over six feet when all grown up. Dwarves are not like those in that Disney movie, students.”

The girl slumped in her seat. Baggins took another deep breath. “May we speak after class so we can broaden your understanding? I think you might like some stories I have.” The girl nodded.

Another girl who wore a blue skirt and yellow shirt raised her hand. “They were created by Aulë to be resistant to the evils of… Morgoth.” The girl shuddered at saying the name of the greatest evil. “They are good at mining and crafting. They prefer to live in the mountains. Despite popular belief, beards are not necessary. There is, as far as we know, one woman for every four men. It is hard for Dwarves to conceive. They have their own language and don’t like to talk to outsiders.”

“Good,” Baggins said before taking down the girl’s name, “Mortal Men.”

One of the male Hobbits snickered and muttered, “Bunch of no good louts.”

Professor Baggins jumped off the stage and stood in front of the Hobbit. Her voice was low and steady as she spoke. “You know, compared to Mortal Men, Hobbits are slothful. Mortal Men build great cities, write beautiful literature and music, tame horses, develop the technology which allows you to text your friends when you think my back is turned, and they explore the world almost as much as the elves had in the days of old. To top it all off, they are immune to magical effects unlike the rest of us Free Folk. What do Hobbits do? Garden and eat.”

The male Hobbit slunk in his seat. His friends looked down and away from the Professor.

“The lot of you will be speaking to me after class,” Professor Baggins said, “Now, since I seemed to have taken up the conversation, I will give extra credit to whoever can tell me what the Doom of Men means.”

A lad near Thorin raised his hand. “Doom doesn’t necessarily mean a bad thing. It originally just meant fate. The fate of Men is to die. It used to be called the Gift of Men because the elves and Dwarves have such long life spans; they have to watch all the things they love pass away.”

Professor Baggins smiled slightly. “Thank you for stating it so respectfully.” She jumped back onto the stage and clapped her hands. “Hobbits!”

The class laughed and threw out answers to the professor. She eventually held up her hands and the class settled down. “Those are the four main classes of Free People in Arda. There are of course, others such as Ents and Eagles. However, we will get to those mysterious folk later. For now, we are going to be dealing with the forces created by darkness. The most fearsome of these are dragons.”

The professor launched into the beginning of lecture starting with the creation of dragons by Morgoth (originally known as Melkor). He created the dragons from all of the worst evils of elves, Men, and Dwarves allowing them to be creatures of destruction. How exactly was unknown, with rumors from the corruption of Eagles, to just general nastiness combined from all the Free People. All that was known for certain was that Morgoth could not make something of his own, so he must have corrupted another living creature.

Professor Baggins spoke on the general main physical traits of dragons for some time before switching to specifics. Dragons were either of fire or of cold. Under both categories, they were further subdivided into slithering, walking, and flying. How they breed was unknown, but they certainly did create offspring.

“I will now read from the account of Thorin Oakenshield. Does anyone in the class know who he is?” Professor Baggins said.

The class was confused. Thorin looked around, but it seemed no one, not even the professor, recognized him. Professor Baggins took a book from the table in the front.

“Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór was there during one of the last great attacks of dragons in the more southern regions of the world. This is in reference to Smaug during his attack of the Lonely Mountain, where he supposedly still sleeps. ‘The first we heard was a noise like a hurricane coming down from the north. The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in a hot, dry wind…’ Skip. ‘…. Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks…’ Skip. Skip. ‘Furnace with wings’. Rather nasty things, dragons. His account does not even go over how dragons blood is poisonous, the foul smell of dragons is like burning sulfur and slime, the way dragons voices and eyes work together to put their victims under a spell to surrender to a dragon’s will, or (most importantly) their greed.”

A male Hobbit ran into the room. “Sackville-Baggins!” he hissed.

“Shoes!” Professor Baggins said. The student by the table at the front tossed at Baggins’ head her shoes and her jacket. She stepped into her shoes as she slipped on her brown jacket. The other students began putting on shoes and straightening ties.

Professor Baggins put up her curly, black hair into a messy bun while she continued her lecture. “Dragons are the greediest of all creatures. Though they will go after copper, silver, and precious gems, they love gold above all. That is why sometimes gold sickness is called dragon sickness, as you would know if you did your reading on Dwarves. Mines of all kinds, but especially those run by Dwarves, are often attacked by dragons of the North. The Yukon is still overrun with dragons and no one has been able to get them out in almost two centuries. During the gold and silver rushes of North America almost two hundred years ago, dragons were particularly active. Smaug is the one who caused the greatest damage. Now why…”

A smack of heavy, floral perfume announced the arrival of a female Hobbit professionally dressed. She stood in the back and cleared her throat. Professor Baggins ignored her. “As I was saying, now why is Smaug so important? I already gave you a hint earlier.”

“Professor Baggins,” the Hobbit standing in the back said.

“Anyone?” Professor Baggins said as she continued to ignore the woman in the back.

“Bramble!” the woman said impatiently.

“Lobelia! It is rude to interrupt a class,” Professor Baggins said.

The students snickered.

A female Hobbit with blonde hair said, “Is it because Smaug is probably still alive?”

“Exactly!” Professor Baggins said, “He is the only (possibly) live dragon this far south. The next nearest ones are in Canada, where they certainly do not sit around drinking Tim Horton’s while talking about hockey.”

The students giggled.

“But there is another reason,” Professor Baggins said, “There is still a claim on the Lonely Mountain from the line of Durin. We know for certain Thorin Oakenshield, the grandson of the last King Under the Mountain, is still alive. His Father, Thráin, has been missing for many years. It is an interesting legal dispute since ownership is nine-tenths of the law and Smaug has been sitting on the treasure for almost two centuries. Because of this, anyone who slays the dragon could potentially own the Lonely Mountain unless…” She waved her hands as she tried to get students to chime in. “… unless the Line of Durin can find the Arkenstone, a sign of kingship of the Lonely Mountain. Come on. We talked about this during the Dwarf lectures. Now, Lobelia, what is the bee in your bonnet?”

“Your wizard friend is here,” Lobelia said.

Professor Baggins grinned. “Well, he will just have to wait. I will be there as quick as I can, cousin.”

Sackville-Baggins huffed but left the classroom. Professor Baggins turned to the class. “I am going to end class a little early as one should not anger wizards. Your assignment is to find three fairy or folk tales about dragons, as much of what we know about dragons comes from those sources. Try to find at least two different cultures’ accounts. Except for those I called on and our visitor, you are free to leave. Your word of wisdom for the day: never laugh at a live dragon.”

The students packed their things and left. Professor Baggins spoke with a quiet voice to the disrespectful Hobbits. She wrote out something on a paper for each student and texted someone. Professor Baggins next spoke to the girl who did not know much about Dwarves. The girl seemed upset for a moment, but began to cheer up as the professor wrote instructions on a piece of paper. The young Hobbit practically danced out of the room.

Thorin walked down to the front where Professor Baggins packed her things. “What is it you wished to speak to me about?”

“I was wondering your thoughts on the lecture,” Professor Baggins said.

“I thought it was informative,” Thorin said.

“I hope I did not offend you by what I quoted from the report to the Iron Hills,” Professor Baggins said.

“Why would I be offended?” Thorin asked gruffly.

“Well, they are your words.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “My words?”

“Well, yes. You are Thorin Oakenshield, are you not?”

“I do believe you are confused about…”

“No. I am not. A strange man comes to my class who looks like Thorin Oakenshield at the same time my dear, pesky, old friend decides to come for a visit. Well, Thorin Oakenshield without the beard, which I suppose is to be expected after a hundred years or so,” Professor Baggins said, “Also, Thor? Really? That was the best you could come up with?” She handed some books to Thorin. “Come on. I must have a word with Gandalf and see what mischief he is up to.”

Chapter Text

Professor Bramble Baggins was not fond of surprises. Having two in one day never boded well. First there was the rather handsome dwarf she had never seen in the Shire before. There was also Gandalf’s (always unexpected) visit. She found it doubtful they were unconnected. Bramble might not have realized who the dwarf in her classroom was if not for the fact she was speaking about his people using his words. She was surprised she did not burst into flames from embarrassment. It was one thing to talk about people when they were not there, but quite another when they were sitting in the back of one’s classroom looking majestic.

Thorin seemed to take it in stride as he carried some of her books. Bramble wondered amongst her many thoughts of why royalty would come all the way out to the middle-of-nowhere Indiana and if he would be offended if she asked him to sign her book with his report in it. She realized it might be a painful subject and the height of rudeness to ask.

Gandalf had already made himself comfortable in Bramble’s chair when the Dwarf and the Hobbit walked in. The wizard was reading one of Bramble’s books on Hobbit genealogy.

“You are in my spot,” Bramble said. She placed her computer bag by her desk and began taking off her jacket and waistcoat. Bramble said to Thorin, “You can put the books down, sir, and take one of the guest seats. Close the door though. Ah, where are my manners, Gandalf. Good morning.”

Gandalf got up at a leisurely pace. “What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning. Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?”

Bramble sighed. “The last one. Can I help you?”

“That remains to be seen,” Gandalf said.

Bramble set out the tray of tea Gandalf had already prepared. She turned on some light instrumental music. “The walls have ears. Now Gandalf why oh why would you send the Thorin Oakenshield to my classroom?”

“Oh,” Gandalf looked over at Thorin, “I did not realize he would be here today.”

“Yes, which is why you set out three mugs of tea,” Bramble said dryly.

Gandalf leaned forward and smiled. “I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

Bramble barked out a laugh. “An adventure? No, I don’t imagine anyone in Indiana outside of Bree would have much interest in adventures. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. They make you late for dinner. How do you take your tea, Mr. Oakenshield? Oh dear, that is a title, isn’t it? How am I to address you?”

“Thorin will do,” the Dwarf said, “Just milk. I would like to know what the wizard is doing here as well.”

“Gandalf, two sugars and a dollop of milk?” Bramble said. Gandalf nodded that she was correct. The Hobbit finished fixing up her tea before sitting down.

“Well, when I mean adventure…” Gandalf said, “For once, I am bringing you something which does not necessitate you leaving your cozy office.”

Bramble raised an eyebrow. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Gandalf said.

“I need this map verified,” Thorin said as he pulled a worn piece of paper out of the pocket of his leather jacket, “Your various expertise make you qualified to do so.”

Bramble put aside her tea and began preparations to look at the document. She pulled out an empty tray, latex gloves, glasses attached with a magnifying glass on one eye, and flipped on her desk light. Professor Baggins carefully unfolded the paper. She tested the weight, held it up against the light for a moment, and finally sniffed the document.

“I am afraid I will have to get into your personal space, gentlemen, for just a moment,” Bramble said. She quickly sniffed both Thorin (leather, clean earth, something which she would hazard to guess was a forge, etc.) and Gandalf (lemon, cheap soap, the pipe tobacco he was supposed to have quit smoking ages ago, etc.).

Professor Baggins sat down again and began examining the map. “Judging from the… smell of the document, I would say it was in Thorin’s possession for enough time that it began to smell like him. Slight water damage at the edges long enough ago that it is dried. I would want to say this document is about 200 years old. I am going to state the most obvious reason for the date because of the reference to the Desolation of Smaug. Judging by the way the map is labeled, I assume this was written as a personal reference. It is more casual than a map for general use. I have no idea what the Dwarvish runes say, of course, but it does seem to have been written with care by a strong hand. I would guess there are moon runes on this. Besides the long shot of having the right date, probably your best bet to have this read would be to go to Rivendell. I have a feeling you wouldn’t like that.”

“I do not need those… elves’ help. Is the map legitimate?” Thorin asked.

“I want to say yes, but I cannot read the runes. They could say something like, ‘Priscilla likes Dwarves with big beards’ or something just as ridiculous. I am assuming since you can read these runes, you think they say something of importance.” Bramble looked up. “I would have to run other tests, but most forgers would not draw something as… amateurish as this. The labeling of the compass is a sign of a Dwarf or someone who knew the finer details of the culture. Obviously, the Lord of Silver Fountains would be such. If it is a fake, it is one of the best I have ever seen.”

Thorin tried to take the map back but Bramble kept it away from him. “Let me get you a bag for this. I can’t have such an old document just rattling around your pocket. My nerves couldn’t take it.”

The Dwarf huffed, but Bramble ignored him. She fetched a bag, carefully folded the map back-up, and placed it in the bag before handing it back to Thorin. “I would recommend gloves from now on. The map has aged well, but who knows how long it will hold up over rough conditions?”

“I will keep your advice in mind,” Thorin said.

“Is that the only thing you came for?” Bramble asked.

“That is the only thing I need,” Thorin said.

Gandalf kicked Thorin’s leg. “What was that for, Gandalf?”

“Ask her. She will not betray your confidence. Bramble is a good, honest Hobbit and limits her gossip to who has a third breakfast,” Gandalf said.

“That was one time!” Bramble protested.

Thorin looked up at the ceiling for a moment before focusing on Bramble. “How much will it take to keep you silent?”

“Um… did I mess anything up in my lecture?” Bramble said.

Thorin blinked rapidly. “What?”

“You asked how much it would take, that would be it. You are the first Dwarf I have talked to about something other than repairing tools,” Bramble said.

“You want to know if your lecture was wrong?” Thorin said.

“Yes. It is my job to be as accurate as possible,” Bramble said.

“You want to know if your lecture was wrong?” Thorin repeated.

“Yes. That’s it,” Bramble said.

Thorin shook his head and chuckled. “The only thing you had absolutely wrong was the female to male ratio of Dwarves. It is one to two, not one to four. It is difficult to conceive, thus why we have never had as large numbers compared to Men and Hobbits.”

Bramble sighed and relaxed into her chair. “Oh, thank goodness. I was terribly worried.”

“I am just glad you didn’t say we sprung out of holes in the ground,” Thorin said.

“Your question, master Dwarf,” Bramble said.

Thorin leaned forward as did Bramble. He said in a low tone, “What would you advise if, hypothetically, someone wanted to exterminate the pest of a worm?”

Bramble tilted her head and closed her eyes. “Hmmm… birds eat a lot of worms, especially after storms, though I suspect you are discussing the other type of worm.”

“Indeed.”

“‘Every worm has his weak spot’, as my father used to say, though I am sure it was not from personal experience,” Bramble said as she opened her eyes, “If you do not mind dying along with the dragon, stabbing him directly into a soft spot will work. Of course, the blood will kill you if any of it touches you. Black Arrows (which as far as I know no longer exist) would be your best choice when it comes to weapons. The best way to kill a dragon, however, would be to submerge it in water. Cold Drakes may be able to withstand snow, but all dragons, particularly Fire Drakes, are powerless in water. Drown a dragon and it will most certainly die. Fairy stories and folk tales may discuss other methods, but those are the only ones with historical precedent. I personally would like to see the effects of modern guns against dragon hide. A grenade launcher would at least distract the beast. No one has tried new methods since dragons first took over the Yukon.”

Thorin nodded. “Thank you for your time, Professor Baggins. I will take my leave now.”

Bramble stood up just as Thorin did. She held out her hand, “A pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Thorin shook her hand. “A pleasure for me as well, professor.”

Gandalf smiled at Bramble as Thorin left. “I think the two of you got along just splendidly.”

Bramble had a goofy grin on her face and it was not just because her hand felt unusually warm. “Thorin Oakenshield. A real Dwarf from the real line of Durin. A map drawn possibly by Thrór. Quite the adventure and I will not be missing my dinner.”

“Now, there is another matter I wish to discuss,” Gandalf said.

“Good morning, Gandalf,” Bramble said in a way that meant for the wizard to leave.

“To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took’s daughter as if I were selling Tupperware at the door!”

“I don’t want any more adventures. This is enough for me,” Bramble said.

Gandalf huffed. “You’ve changed and not entirely for the better, Bramble Baggins.”

“You’re right. I have. I have realized adventures get you killed,” Bramble said. She motioned to the papers piled on her desk. “I am an adult, Gandalf. I have duties here at the university. I have Bag-End to take care of. You know Lobelia will get her hands on it at any opportunity. I have already caught her stealing my spoons five times!”

Gandalf stood up. “Well that’s decided.”

Bramble relaxed. “Thank you.”

“It will be very good for you, and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others.” Gandalf walked out the door.

Bramble tried to chase after the wizard, but he had already left. “Inform the who? What? No. No. No! Wait. We do not want any adventures here, thank you.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

The next day was pleasant for Bramble. She rode her bicycle around campus and Hobbiton after her classes were completed. Bramble bought as many groceries as she could fit in her basket and attached baggage carrier. Hamfast had said the vegetables in her garden were coming in nicely and were doing well against pests.

Bramble had quite forgotten Gandalf’s mention of “others” until she had sat down for a supper of homemade pizza while in her sweats and an old t-shirt when the doorbell rang. She grabbed her father’s robe and wrapped it around herself as she opened the round door of home.

One of the most handsome men Bramble had ever seen stood at her door. She did not take too much notice his appearance as she focused on the AK-47 and the shotgun strapped to his back and the two handguns at his side.

The dwarf bowed and said, “Dwalin, at your service.”

Bramble stared for a moment. “Nope.” She slammed the door, locked it, and ran to hide under her bed.

Chapter Text

Dwalin was confused. He generally only had the door slammed in his face when he tried to kill someone. This was an odd development. Maybe the woman lived alone and was unused to strange men coming to her house? Unsure of what else to do, Dwalin sat on the Hobbit’s doorstep/ramp and texted the wizard.

Shortly afterwards, Dwalin’s brother, Balin, arrived with an insufferable grin on his face. “Evening, nadad.”

“By my beard, you are shorter and wider than last we met,” Dwalin said as he stood up.

“Wider, not shorter. Sharp enough for both of us,” Balin said.

The two laughed and butted heads.

“Now, Dwalin, why are you out here? Don’t you know how to ring a doorbell?”

“There’s the problem. The lass won’t let me in,” Dwalin said.

“Well, you are rather terrifying until everyone knows you’re a pansy,” Balin said, “Maybe she’ll let us in when some of the women folk arrive.”

“I don’t know. I’ve seen rabbits with more fight in them,” Dwalin said.

“What rabbits are fighting?” Fíli asked as she and her brother, Kíli, came up the path.

“Nothing. Our host seems to be frightened of my brother,” Balin said.

“Well, let’s hope she doesn’t faint at the sight of uncle,” Kíli said, “Is Professor Boggins scared of Dwalin?”

“It’s Professor Baggins,” Dori said, dragging her sisters Nori and Ori along, “I parked the Volkswagen in the drive. I saw Glóin’s car behind us on the way in.”

Bifur, Bombur, and Bofur trudged up the path. Bofur waved his ear hat around in greeting. Bifur was wary of his surroundings, but Bombur, Bofur’s sister, seemed to keep him anchored to the present.

“Hello lads, lasses,” Bofur said. He ruffled Ori’s hair. “How are the lot of you doing? Why are we outside?”

“She won’t let us in,” Dwalin mumbled.

“Who won’t let us in?” Óin asked as he adjusted his hearing aids.

“Professor Boggins,” Kíli said.

“Baggins!” Fíli said.

The wizard’s grey car parked in the driveway. “Why are you all out here?” Gandalf asked as he closed his car door.

“The lass won’t let us in,” Balin said, “This is the right house? It has your mark.”

Gandalf began muttering. He rapped the door three times. “Bramble Baggins, you are being a terrible host. Open this door right now.”

“I don’t think she could hear you,” Glóin said.

“I heard him, namad,” Óin said.

“Bramble most certainly did hear me,” Gandalf said.

One did not argue with wizards, so the Dwarves all lined up at the door. Just when they were about to knock again, the door swung open, causing several of the Dwarves to fall forward. Fortunately, none of the larger Dwarves fell and just the younger, sprightly ones were pinned.

The Hobbit growled, “Gandalf…”

“Wonderful to see you too, Bramble my dear,” Gandalf said, “What’s for supper?”

Bramble rubbed her face with one hand. “For the love of… everyone, shoes off and weapons by the door or no food.”

The Dwarves willingly complied when they heard the word “food”.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

After proper introductions were given, Professor Baggins’ pantries were raided. Only a lonely bowl of left over soup was left untouched. The Dwarves began cooking on any surface they could get to. They used the electric stove, the microwave, and even started a fire in a long disused fireplace with Bombur leading the charge. Bombur was a professional cook, even if the small diners she worked at did not give her a proper avenue to show off her skills. It paid the bills for her fourteen little ones.

Bombur dealt with the chaos of the kitchen with ease. It was simple enough work that she could overhear Gandalf and the professor arguing.

“Gandalf, why did you bring these Dwarves here?” Bramble asked.

“Why, they needed a place to discuss things and…”

“Is this about your… visit yesterday?”

“Now, why would you ever think that, my dear?”

Bramble groaned. “Are you serious? Why my house?”

“It is lovely. Frankly, my dear, you have been alone for far too long.”

“Stop calling me ‘my dear’. You only do it when you want something.”

Gandalf chuckled and took a sip of red wine.

“And you still haven’t stopped smoking that infernal pipe. Chimney stacks have less smoke coming out of them than you do.”

The wizard choked on his wine. Bombur liked the Hobbit already.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Gandalf sat back and laughed at the chaos the Dwarves caused. He knew their tale far better than Bramble did and knew it was rare for them to be so jolly. The dear Hobbit looked ready to faint. He knew her to be Belladonna Took’s daughter; she could face up to anything, even Dwarves eating everything in her pantry.

“Excuse me, that is a doily, not a dishcloth!” Bramble said as she snatched the doily from Bofur.

“But it’s full of holes!” Bofur protested.

“It’s supposed to look like that, it’s crochet,” Bramble explained gently.

“Oh, and a wonderful game it is too, if you got the balls for it,” Bofur snickered.

Bramble rolled her eyes. “Bebother and confusticate these Dwarves!”

“My dear, what on earth is the matter?” Gandalf said.

“What’s the matter?” Bramble merely motioned to the pandemonium around her.

“Oh, they’re quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them,” Gandalf said.

Ori tapped on Bramble’s shoulder, “Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?”

Fíli snatched it. “Here you go, Ori, give it to me.”

The dishes began being tossed around from the dining room to the kitchen either to go into the dish washer or the sink. The Dwarves kept a beat by banging the utensils and their fists against the dining room table.

“Excuse me, that’s my mother’s West Farthing crockery; it’s over a hundred years old!” Bramble cried out, “And can you not do that? You’ll blunt them!”

“Ooh, do hear that, lads? The professor says we’ll blunt the knives,” Bofur said.

The Dwarves began to sing. “Blunt the knives, bend the forks/Smash the bottles and burn the corks/Chip the glasses and crack the plates/That’s what Bramble Baggins hates!/Cut the cloth and 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’ve finished, if any are whole/Send them down the hall to roll/That’s what Bramble Baggins hates!”

And of course they did none of these dreadful things. The group already liked Bramble for her beautiful pantries. Plural! Who had ever heard of plural pantries outside of a palace? They knew if Bramble wanted them out, she would have called the police a long time ago. She was merely confused by all the racket. The professor would grow used to it.

There was a knock at the door. “Finally,” Gandalf mumbled.

Bramble went to the door. “I cannot stand any other Dwar… oh. Dear. Hello again, Thorin. So that’s why they’re here.”

Chapter Text

Thorin was about to knock at the door of the hill when he heard the music from within. When had been the last time he had heard any group of Dwarves besides a small family group sing anything but sorrow outside of holidays? He did not know, but he wanted to listen to it as long as it lasted. He could not hear the words, but he knew it was silly and full of mischief. Finally, the Dwarves cheered when the song was done.

With weary determination, he knocked at the door. He heard a familiar voice. “I cannot stand any other Dwar… oh. Dear.” Professor Baggins opened the door. Thorin could smell a faint scent of food. “Hello again, Thorin. So that’s why they’re here.”

“Professor Baggins,” Thorin said with a slight bow, “Thorin Oakenshield at your service.”

“Bramble Baggins at yours,” Bramble said with as much of a curtsy as she could give while wearing sweat pants.

“Ah, Thorin,” Gandalf said.

“I did not realize this would be taking place at your house, professor,” Thorin said.

“Neither did I,” Bramble said, “Please, come in. Take off your shoes and put any weapons by the door. There must be something left to eat.”

Thorin entered cautiously and avoided hitting his head against the low hanging chandelier in the hallway. The king acknowledged those of the Company who had come to the door with a nod of his head. He put all of his weapons by the door save for the .22 mm gun he kept just above his socks. Thorin almost felt guilty about lying to his host. Then he saw two of the other Dwarves...

“Fíli. Kíli,” Thorin said as he crossed his arms.

The two tried to duck under the table but the Dwarves next to them pulled the duo up. “Hi, idad,” they squeaked.

“Does your Amad know you’re here?” Thorin said.

“How stupid do you think we are?” Fíli said.

Thorin looked up at the ceiling. “She will have my head if anything happens to you two.”

Fíli and Kíli gave the most adorable puppy dog eyes ever to be seen in the Shire beside toddlers and actual puppies.

Thorin was unimpressed. He turned to Gandalf, “When will our burglar arrive?”

“Oh, you never know,” Gandalf said.

A wizard being vague was never a good sign.

By the time Thorin had sat down (after hitting his head on the door frame to the dining room), Bramble had placed a bottle of beer before him and rushed back to the kitchen. The Dwarves waited on Thorin to speak, but he had a sneaking suspicion of who was to be their burglar and he would wait for her.

The professor returned with a bowl of stew, some bread, and a small slice of cheese. “I hope this is alright. I can make something up if you want.”

“This will do. Thank you,” Thorin said.

As he took his first bite of the soup, Thorin felt a pleasant tingling run through him. After another bite, it became a general warmth in his body. The more he ate, the more at ease he became with the Hobbit’s home. Thorin knew Hobbits had magic, but he had never seen it. The magic seemed reserved for food. Maybe that was why the Company had been so unusually jolly.

Balin was the bravest of the group in asking what had happened. “What news from the meeting in New York? Did they all come?”

“Yes. Envoys from all seven kingdoms,” Thorin said.

“What do the Dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?” Dwalin asked.

Thorin wished he could answer differently. “They will not come.” The Dwarves became downcast. “They say this quest is ours, and ours alone.”

“So you’re going to the Lonely Mountain?” Bramble asked quietly. Thorin realized she stood behind him near the entryway of the dining room.

“Óin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time,” Glóin said before slapping her brother on the back.

Óin continued, “Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold: when the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.”

“You mean Smaug?” Bramble said, “Smaug the Terrible? Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age?”

Ori stood up. “I’m not afraid! I’m up for it. I’ll give him a taste of the Dwarvish iron right up his...”

The Dwarves shouts of agreement drowned out the final word. Dori made her sister sit down.

“The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest,” Balin said.

The company objected to being called stupid. Thorin resisted smiling at the insult.

“We may be few in number, but we’re fighters, all of us, to the last Dwarf!” Fíli said.

Kíli (always following his sister) said, “And you forget, we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time.”

Gandalf looked frazzled. “Oh, well, now, uh, I… I wouldn’t say that, I…”

“How many, then?” Dori asked

Gandalf looked at Dori. “Uh, what?”

“Well, how many dragons have you killed? Go on, give us a number!” Dori demanded.

The Dwarves erupted into an argument about how many dragons Gandalf killed. Thorin saw the professor looking annoyed with the wizard, which made Thorin feel slightly less paranoid and a bit smarter about not completely trusting the wizard. However, a punch would be thrown soon if Thorin did not stop the argument.

Thorin stood up. “Shazara! If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. People look west to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!”

The company cheered. Thorin’s heart was warmed with pride at the spirit of his Dwarves.

When the cheering had died down, Balin spoke. “You forget; the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain.”

“That is not entirely true,” Gandalf said. Somehow he made an ornately wrought Dwarvish key appear in his hand.

Thorin was wonder struck. “How did you find this?”

“It was given to me by your father, by Thráin, for safekeeping, just like your map. It is yours now,” Gandalf said as he handed the key to Thorin.

“If there is a key, there must be a door,” Fíli said.

Thorin pulled out the map from his jacket pocket. “Gloves, Baggins.”

Faster than Thorin thought possible, Bramble handed him both latex gloves and a flat tray which would allow the company to see the map while not allowing it to become sticky with food. The slightest hint of lilacs filled the air when the professor brushed against Thorin’s shoulder. He reverently opened up the map “These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls.”

“There’s another way in!” Kíli exclaimed.

“Well, if we can find it, but Dwarf doors are invisible when closed,” Gandalf said, “The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done.”

“That’s why we need a burglar,” Ori deduced.

“A good one, too. An expert, I’d imagine,” Bramble said.

The Dwarves all turned to the Hobbit.

“And are you, professor?” Glóin said.

“Am I what?” Bramble said. Her eyes grew wide. “Me? No, no, no, no, no. I’m not a burglar; I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.”

“Bramble, you were a literature education major in your undergraduate studies. All they do is either steal from books or from other teachers!” Gandalf said.

“I am not a burglar!” Bramble shouted.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with the professor Baggins. She’s hardly burglar material,” Balin said.

The company agreed heartily. Thorin almost jumped out of his seat at Gandalf’s booming voice. “Enough! If I say Belladonna Bramble Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar she is.”

The group looked at the wizard in shock. Bramble appeared ready to faint. Gandalf smiled at her and patted her arm. “There, there my dear. I did not mean to frighten you.”

“Isn’t Belladonna a poisonous plant?” Nori asked.

“It can also be used as a medicine,” Bramble snapped, “If any of you call me that, you will regret it.”

Gandalf looked back at the Dwarves. “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of Hobbit is all but unknown to him. Professor Baggins is the expert on dragons on this continent, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Professor Baggins. There’s a lot more to her than appearances suggest, and she’s got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including herself.” The wizard turned to Thorin. “You must trust me on this.”

Thorin watched Bramble for a moment. She seemed calmer and looked at Gandalf with fondness. Thorin said, “Very well. We will do it your way. Give her the contract.”

“I don’t need any adventures,” Bramble said.

Balin put on his reading glasses and pulled out a long contract. “It’s just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth.” He passed it to the Hobbit.

“Funeral arrangements?” Bramble squeaked. She took the contract and began to read it.

Thorin felt something (he supposed somewhere in the vicinity of his heart) which made him uneasy. He leaned over to Gandalf and whispered, “I cannot guarantee the professor’s safety.”

“Understood.”

“Nor will I be responsible for her fate.”

Gandalf nodded. “Agreed.”

Bramble began mumbling aloud the contract. “Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any. Reasonable. Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations... evisceration… incineration?” She looked more angry than scared.

“Oh, yes, he’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye,” Bofur said.

“I know,” Bramble huffed.

Balin said, “You all right, lass?”

“Think furnace with wings,” Bofur said, “Flash of light, searing pain, then Poof! you’re nothing more than a pile of ash.”

“I know! Thank you!” Bramble shouted.

Bofur looked dumbstruck.

“Oh, I’m sorry. That was rude. You were just trying to warn me,” Bramble said..

“Actually, he was trying to scare you,” Bombur said, “My brother is a jerk like that.”

There was angry knocking at the door. “THORIN I WILL SKIN YOU AND TURN YOU INTO SHOES!” a female voice shouted.

Fíli, Kíli, Balin, and Dwalin all dove under the table. Thorin felt himself become ill. He looked under the table and said, “I thought your Amad knew!”

“We never said that,” Kíli said.

“We said, ‘How stupid do you think we are?’” Fíli said, “We never claimed to be intelligent.”

Thorin sat up and groaned. It would not be a pleasant meeting.

Chapter Text

Dís pounded on the door again. “THORIN! OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!”

Her older brother swung open the round, green door. “Do not knock down Professor Baggins’ door. She has fed us well.”

Dís shoved her brother backwards in the hall. “You! You convinced them to come, didn’t you?”

“They came on their own. I didn’t ask them,” Thorin said.

“You and your stories!” Dís said, “They didn’t even tell me where they went! They could have been lying dead in a ditch because of orcs and I would have never known!”

Dís saw the dining room and stormed in. Bombur and Glóin yanked up Dís’ children from under the dining room table. “You two are coming home.”

“Amad!” Fíli and Kíli shouted.

“Now! Get in the rental!” Dís said.

Fíli and Kíli grumbled, but began to leave. Dís turned back to Thorin. She pushed at his chest, barely moving him. “You! This is your fault!”

“My fault? I did nothing!” Thorin said.

“Nothing! You…” Dís was not quite sure what was said after that. The argument was in Khuzdul and she was certain she and Thorin brought up every single terrible thing they had done to each other.

They began to make progress when there was a loud bang that pulled the siblings out of their fight. They turned and saw the Hobbit holding a gong which was almost as large as her upper body.

“End of… round one,” the professor said as she put down the gong. She gasped for air, her eyes wide. “I will... I will not have fighting… in this house. I have already dealt with…” The Hobbit began to hyperventilate. “…with Dwarves… and my mother’s dishes being… being… and I will not… you’re siblings and… please stop.” The Hobbit fainted.

Dís and Thorin tilted their heads to the side. “Odd creature,” they said in unison.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Bramble woke up to Óin examining her head. “I passed out?”

“The technical term is ‘fell like a stone’,” Óin said as he smiled slightly.

“You hear better than you let on, don’t you?” Bramble whispered.

Óin shook his head. “I’ve been trying to find good hearing aids for a decade now. Sometimes they work. Sometimes they don’t. Right now they do.”

Bramble sat up. Thorin and Dís glared at each other, but were no longer yelling. The Hobbit sighed. “I need some tea.”

Bofur and Glóin helped Bramble to the living room where she sat in her favorite reading chair. Bombur brought a cup of tea.

“I’ll be all right, let me just sit quietly for a moment,” Bramble said.

Gandalf came into the room and began pacing. “You’ve been sitting quietly for far too long. Tell me; when did doilies and your mother’s dishes become so important to you? I remember a young Hobbit who always was running off in search of elves in the woods, who’d stay out late, come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs and fireflies, who would ride her bike until her legs stopped working so she could see more of the world than her little town. A young Hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. The world is not in your books and maps; it’s out there.”

“I can’t just go running off into the blue. I am a Baggins of Bag End,” Bramble said.

“You are also a Took. Did you know about your great-great-great-great-uncle, Bullroarer Took?”

“Yes. In the Battle of Green Fields, he charged the goblin ranks. He swung his club so hard it knocked the Goblin King’s head clean off, and it sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. And thus the battle was won, and the game of golf invented at the same time.” Bramble chuckled. “I do think that story is a bit embellished since golf was invented a few centuries before.”

“You’ll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back,” Gandalf said encouragingly.

“Can you promise I will come back?”

“No. And if you do, you will not be the same.”

Bramble sighed. “That’s what I thought. I’m sorry, Gandalf, I can’t join in on this adventure. You’ve got the wrong Hobbit.”

Gandalf said quietly, “What happened to you, Bramble?”

“You may not have to grow up, but I do,” Bramble said before she closed her eyes and took a sip of tea, “Oh, that is just right. Did you tell the Dwarf cook, uh, Bombur, what I liked?”

“I did not,” Dís said.

Bramble’s eyes snapped open. Gandalf was gone. Dís sat across from the Hobbit and drank a mug of coffee.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t realize children were here without permission from their parents,” Bramble said.

Dís chuckled. “Unfortunately, my children are adults. Barely adults, but legally, they do not have to listen to me. They just…” she waved a hand in exasperation. “They are so like the line of Durin. Bunch of thick-headed idiots.”

“I thought Thorin was your brother,” Bramble said.

“He is,” Dís said. She winked at Bramble. “I never said I wasn’t a thick-headed idiot as well.”

Bramble smiled. “They sound very Tookish.”

“Tookish?”

“The Tooks are my mother’s side. Wild for Hobbits. They get into all sorts of adventures,” Bramble said.

“But you are a Boggins?” Dís said.

“Baggins,” Bramble corrected, “Proper folk. Very respectable.”

“Why would someone so proper and respectable have a wizard call upon them for help?” Dís asked.

Bramble’s shoulders slumped. “I was a very silly child. Far too Tookish for my own good.”

“Oh no. That sounds like a very sad story waiting to be told,” Dís said.

Bramble shrugged. “Not very sad. Just a normal sad. I have never had a dragon take my home. I have never had my life threatened except by Farmer Maggot’s dogs, though now I am older, I don’t think they would have done anything. Well, they did bite my… backside once. I still have the scars.”

Dís held back an amused smile. “If you are willing, I would like to hear the story.”

Bramble put aside her tea and pulled her legs up against her chest. “I used to travel as much as I could when I was a young girl. My parents always had the same farewell for me. ‘Go have an adventure and come back with a tale for us.’ One time, I went all the way pass Bree and to Chicago. It was the farthest any Hobbit had gone besides a few Tooks. The buildings were dizzyingly high. The lake smelled, but made you feel small in all the right ways. And the Art Institute of Chicago… I cried when I saw a Monet in real life. I came back and… you see, I didn’t have a cell phone and I didn’t think to call home since I would be back in a day.” Bramble rubbed her eyes. “My Dad had died. He had been sick his whole life and so I didn’t think… think anything would happen. Mom just… stopped being Mom and quietly followed my Father. So, I don’t go on adventures anymore. You can’t be too far from home because something terrible might happen.”

“And sometimes terrible things happen when you stay at home,” Dís said.

“But you didn’t ask for trouble,” Bramble said, “I did and I would be doing it again if I went on this adventure. There is stupidity and then there is slaying a dragon stupidity.”

Dís smiled. “I have never heard anyone not blame the Dwarves for bringing Smaug upon the Mountain.”

“It was your home. Smaug stole from you. He had no right. It was not his. Why should the victims be blamed?” Bramble stopped to regain her compose. “I will show you to my study so you can speak with you your brother in private. I did not mean to interrupt a family spat, but I worried someone would get hurt with how loud you were shouting.”

Dís laughed. “Oh, that’s just how we fight. It wasn’t even particularly loud.”

“Still, I offer you my study so you can talk in private,” Bramble said.

“That would be much appreciated, professor,” Dís said.

Bramble stood up and was about to lead Dís into the hallway when the Dwarf stopped her. Balin spoke to Thorin. “It appears we have lost our burglar. Probably for the best.”

Chapter Text

Balin sighed. “It appears we have lost our burglar. Probably for the best. The odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toy-makers: hardly the stuff of legend.”

“There are a few warriors amongst us,” Thorin said as he smiled at his friend.

“Old warriors,” Balin corrected.

Thorin stood up straighter. “I will take each and every one of these Dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills. For when I called upon them, they came. Loyalty. Honor. A willing heart. I can ask no more than that.”

“You don’t have to do this. You have a choice. You’ve done honorably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains of New York: a life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor.”

Thorin shook his head and held up the key. “From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me. They dreamed of the day when the Dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. I… have already lost one sibling. My sister will take the children home and she will be safe. There is no choice, Balin. Not for me.”

Balin nodded. “Then we are with you. We will see it done.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Thorin followed his sister and the Hobbit down several winding hallways. “Why is it this house is all on one level? It would seem a third floor or at least a second would be more efficient.”

“My father made this house for my mother as a wedding present,” Bramble said, “He was using a cane at that point, but knew he would be in a wheelchair sometime in the next few years. So, he made the house wheelchair accessible so he could go get anything his wife desired because she was ‘a fine lady deserving of the finest comforts’. Apparently, it was the first time she cried in public when he told her.” She stopped talking for a moment. “Sorry. That was a bit defensive. Will your company need rooms? A few may have to share or sleep on a sofa, but there should be enough places to sleep for everyone. I may make Gandalf sleep on the doorstep with how much mischief he has caused me.”

Thorin smiled at the thought of the great wizard sleeping on a Hobbit’s welcome mat. “The rooms would be much appreciated. Some of us planned on sleeping at the Green Dragon, but this would be much better for our needs. Some of us will go out and refill your kitchen tomorrow.”

Bramble stopped walking and spun around. “Oh no! You can’t do that! I would be the worst host in the history of Hobbits if I asked! Hospitality is one of the most important parts of being a Hobbit.”

Thorin nodded, realizing the wizard had most likely been playing upon the Hobbit’s respect of hospitality to get them into Bag-End. “Then we won’t.”

Bramble sighed in relief and opened a door to her left. She flipped a light switch and said, “Here we are. If you need anything, just ring the bell and I will there as quick as I can.”

The first thing Thorin noticed about Bramble’s study were the deep-set round windows looking over her garden, the meadows beyond, and the way the hill sloped down to the river. Though it was night, the light of the moon and stars still shone through.

The next thing he observed was the many maps, books, and loose papers which covered most of the room. Two of the maps pinned to the wall (and the only ones not framed) were connected to Dwarves. One was of various Dwarven migrations and the other had notes mentioning where stories took place, including the Lonely Mountain and Thorin’s report of Smaug.

“I am sorry it’s a mess,” Bramble said, “Any need, ring!”

Thorin watched the Hobbit leave and shut the door behind her. Dís examined the maps. “Huh. I must say, the Hobbit does not know much about Dwarves despite being an ‘expert’ as Balin tells me.”

“She doesn’t think we spring out of holes in the ground, a marked improvement above many others,” Thorin said. He flicked the note with his name on it. “Erebor.”

“Erebor,” Dís repeated.

Thorin spoke quietly. “Namad, I was not aware they had not asked you.”

“Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do, can I?” Dís said, “Well, I could tie them up in a sack, but it would not last very long.”

Thorin chuckled. “I was stopped for a couple of hours.”

“And then you had to roll all the way down a hill to get Glóin to help you,” Dís said.

“You and Frerin were expert knot makers, even when you were Dwarflings,” Thorin said.

Dís elbowed her brother. “You taught us. It wasn’t our fault you didn’t realize it would be used against you.”

Thorin elbowed her back. “And then there was the time you stuck honey in my hair and the bees came after me.”

“You were so annoying about your beard being long enough to braid. I had to do something.”

The siblings were quiet for a moment. The Company could be heard murmuring and laughing further away. The faint scent of tobacco lingered in the study years after the last pipe had been smoked.

“So…” Dis said, “…you don’t have a burglar for your quest, Thorin.”

“We need a dragon slayer, not a burglar.”

“At the least a fourteenth member. Thirteen is unlucky,” Dís said, “I know a Dwarf who would be willing to help.”

“I already called upon all the Dwarves I could and…” Thorin stopped talking and glared. “No.”

“You need a fourteenth member.”

“I need you safe.”

“I am just as likely to die in a coal mine or walking home as facing a dragon.”

“But this death would be...”

“I know of dragon fire, Thorin. I was there too.”

“You may be able to defend yourself, but you cannot be expected to…”

“Loyalty. Honor. A willing heart. You can ask no more than that.”

Thorin groaned. “Eavesdropper. You are using my words against me.”

Dís smiled sweetly. “Baby sister. It’s my job.” She stopped smiling and hugged her brother, which he reluctantly returned. “I have lost my entire family save for my children and you. I will not be left behind when I could do something to help you. I would rather die in battle defending you than to have news come back to the Blue Mountains if you or any of my children fell.”

Thorin hugged her tighter. “You will not be our burglar.”

“Only someone completely insane would do it. I am only a little cracked.” She gave him a squeeze before stepping back. “I have been told that the wizard thinks the professor is useful.”

Thorin looked back at the map. “She is a scholar. She has no idea how to defend herself. By all the powers she… skips. You, Fíli, Kíli, even Ori, don’t skip.”

“If she were willing to come, would you be glad for any more help, even from a woman who skips?”

“She is not interested in gold,” Thorin said.

“Well, what is she interested in?” Dís said.

Thorin’s eyes widened. “Oh. It might work. I would have to see what the repercussions would be, but…”

“What is it?”

“Like you said, something she is interested in.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Bramble went to bed after she had shown the Company their rooms as she was unable to deal anymore with rambunctious Dwarves. She had nearly fell asleep when she heard singing. Thorin’s deep voice led the Company.

“Far over the Misty Mountains cold/To dungeons deep and caverns old/We must away ere break of day/To find our long-forgotten gold/The pines were roaring on the heights/The winds were moaning in the night/The fire was red, it flaming spread/The trees like torches blazed with light”

Dragons, Dwarves, gold, fire, wrath, ruin, and the Line of Durin filled Bramble’s dreams that night and for many nights in the future.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

“I see you are changing the contract,” Gandalf said to Thorin as the two of them along with Balin and Dís sat at the dining room table. The rest of the Company slept in other parts of the house.

“Dís is coming,” Balin said, “We had to change the burglar’s contract to a 15th of the treasure along with… other incentives.”

“Other incentives?” Gandalf said.

“I seem to recall a conversation with you that the burglar Hobbit (whoever that might be and you never did specify it would be the professor) was a treasure seeker,” Thorin said.

“Yes…” Gandalf said cautiously.

“Gold has no interest to her, so I had to seek other means which would,” Thorin said.

Gandalf leaned over Balin and nodded. “Indeed, but that is not why she will come, I can promise you.”

“Why do you really want her to come, Gandalf?” Thorin said.

“I already told you,” Gandalf said.

“No, you didn’t. All of your reasons save for information on dragons could be found in any Hobbit. And that knowledge of dragons? All of it was known to me and probably every Dwarf. Why this Hobbit?” Thorin said.

“Her knowledge has been tested as truth and not as fiction. Despite the stubbornness of Dwarves, you are not the race with the most secrets,” Gandalf said.

“Why this Hobbit?” Thorin said again.

Gandalf said in a low tone, “If she doesn’t go, the whole quest will be a failure.”

“I doubt it. She is soft and silly. Her mother died too soon and she is still a child at heart,” Thorin said.

Dís interrupted, “If we are to go by that logic, neither of us should ever leave the Blue Mountains.”

Thorin glared at his sister for a moment before continuing. “You are playing some crooked game of your own. I am sure you have other purposes than helping me.”

“You are quite right,” Gandalf said, “If I had no other purposes, I should not be helping you at all. Great as your affairs may seem to you, they are only a small strand in the great web. I am concerned with many strands. But that should make my advice more weighty, not less.” Gandalf sighed. “If this Hobbit goes with you, you will succeed. If not, you will fail. A foresight is on me, and I am warning you. If you flout my advice, you will walk to disaster. Curb your pride and your greed, or you will fall at the end of whatever path you take, though your hands be full of gold.”

“Do. Not. Threaten. Me,” Thorin said.

“It is not a threat if it is by your own doing,” Gandalf said, “I can say no more - unless it is this: I do not give my love or trust lightly, Thorin; but I am fond of this Hobbit, and wish her the best. Treat her well, and you shall have my friendship to the end of your days.”

Balin looked up in surprise and kicked Thorin under the table. “Do not throw that away lightly,” Balin said.

Thorin rubbed his forehead. “Finish up the contract. It is up to the Hobbit now if she will come or not.”

Chapter Text

Bag-End was empty by the time Bramble had woken up the next morning. She had never realized how quiet the place was until that moment. It had always been meant to be full of family. Bramble’s parents wanted at least a half-dozen children, but they stopped when both Bramble and her mother had almost died during the pregnancy. There was no one Bramble took an interest in so she could have little Hobbits of her own. She was far too “eccentric” and “intelligent” as her grandmothers would say. They also said it meant only the best would come for her. Bramble gave up looking decades ago.

The kitchen was bare (save for some animal crackers, tea, and Spam), but also completely clean. Bramble drank her tea and tried to warm herself up. The house was too cold, even with the heated floors.

After dressing in her normal brown skirt, white button up blouse, and a green vest, Bramble went to her study. Propped up was the contract. There was a note on it, but she did not read it.

It was a stupid idea. People died killing dragons. Smaug had been inactive for decades, but that did not mean he was dead. How were they going to find the Arkenstone? How was she to avoid a (possibly) live dragon? What were the repercussions if the beast awoke? Who would take care of her classes? Would Lobelia steal Bag-End? What would her parents say?

Bramble’s thoughts stopped as she knew the answer already. It was the same thing they had told her all her life until her father died. “Go have an adventure and come back with a tale for us”

The contract was signed and stuffed into her skirt pocket.

Bramble took a deep breath before she began running around the house to pack. She grabbed: some materials she needed to return to a family friend they would probably meet along the way, a backpack, two changes of clothes (both including jeans), a party dress, all of the bras and underwear she could find, toiletries, feminine products, her wallet, a pocket knife which belonged to her mother, a book on traveling around the country which belonged to her father, and some tools for examining older documents. Bramble had just slapped her I-Pod, phone, and e-reader into her backpack when she realized she might actually need shoes. She tied her gym shoes together and draped them so they would hang around her neck. Grabbing her red coat, her lilac scarf, and a hair tie, Bramble ran to her bicycle.

Bramble did not even bother with her helmet. After putting her materials in the basket and disconnecting her baggage cart, she began peddling to the Green Dragon. The professor dipped so low on the turns she thought she would crash.

She saw the caravan beginning to leave the Green Dragon. They were turning onto the road to the greater world.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Of course, the burglar did not show up. Thorin was not sure why he had bothered with her at all after the first meeting. Hobbits were nearly useless. “Garden and eat” was all halflings were good for the professor herself had said.

Thorin drove his black ‘67 Chevy Impala with Balin, Fíli, and Kíli. Glóin was in her green Toyota Highlander with Óin, Dwalin, and Dís. The rest were packed into Dori’s yellow Volkswagen Bus.

They had just turned onto the road when a mad bicyclist stopped in the middle of the road. Thorin slammed on the brakes and was almost hit by Glóin.

Bramble Baggins waved her arms in the air, contract in hand. “I SIGNED IT!”

Balin got out of the car. Hobbits who were behind the Dwarves began honking their horns. Thorin got out of the Impala as well.

“Are you mad, Baggins?” Thorin said.

“Definitely!” Bramble said.

Thorin cocked his head to the side as he realized the Hobbit was wearing gym shoes like a necklace. “Definitely mad.”

“Everything appears to be in order. Welcome, Professor Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield,” Balin said.

Bramble smiled with the grin of child receiving birthday presents. “Thank you.”

Dwalin got out of the SUV. “We have a bike rack on the bus. Come on.”

Nori hooked Bramble’s bike to the top of the van. Dwalin threw the Hobbit into the Volkswagen.

“If any of you want to leave, get out now. Otherwise, we’re going,” Thorin said before getting back into the Impala. As he glanced in the rear view mirror, he saw Dís give the thumbs up from Glóin’s car.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

“So, what should we call you?” Bofur asked, “We all know how much you ‘love’ Belladonna.”

“I don’t have a preference,” Bramble said, “So, where are we going first?”

“We are meeting the wizard past Indianapolis, professor,” Dori said.

“Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve been there. Lovely children’s museum,” Bramble said, “There are several historical markers along the way and some other museums and historical sites might…”

“I highly doubt we will be stopping for historical markers,” Bombur said.

“We’re going to Wal-Mart, aren’t we? I need to pick up some supplies,” Nori said.

“You are not going to be pick-pocketing people at Wal-Mart!” Dori said.

“Of course not! I was going to rob the store!” Nor said.

“Why you little… you’re joking, aren’t you?” Dori said.

Nori laughed. “Of course I am. I’m reformed. I’m a proper Dwarf now.”

“And Dwalin will kick you so hard you will fly all the way back to Erud Luin,” Bofur said.

“And that,” Nori said.

“Thorin will give you the most terrifying glare in the history of glares,” Ori said.

“And that too,” Nori said.

“And Balin will be disappointed,” Dori said.

Nori stiffened. “That above all.”

Bramble sat up straighter but said nothing. She did not want to seem overly curious, but she knew there was a story.

Nori noticed the Hobbit’s change in body language. “You want to hear the story, lass?”

Bramble nodded eagerly.

“Well, it goes like this,” Nori said. She began braiding her long, red hair into multiple braids. “I’m a thief, you see, but I have only been stealing under orders now. Secrets and the like. It didn’t used to be this way. I stole from anyone who looked rich enough to take the hit. Things were hard for a lot of years in Erud Luin. I didn’t want my sisters starvin’.

“Eventually, I was caught stealing from this Dwarf who turned out to be the adviser of the king. He doesn’t look it, but Balin is a great warrior. A bit slower than back in the days when King Thrór was still alive, but he can still pack a wallop. He broke my nose when he caught me picking his pocket. Balin dragged me to his office and I thought for sure I was going to die. I recognized the insignias of his position in his office. I was thinking of all the ways I was going to die when Óin walks in. He says he’s there to fix my nose.” She pointed to her nose. “Did it perfectly the first try. I doubt even those stinkin’ elves could do it.

“Dwalin walks in and I just about wet my pants. You’ve seen Dwalin. The man is bigger than a bear and looks like he could rip your arms off like they were a piece of bread. Balin goes, ‘Brother, I found someone who might be useful to you.’ Turns out, they needed a spy amongst the thieves. Keep an eye on things. They need to know when a big score is about to go down. Dori, apparently, is friends with Balin so he knows who I am and what I’ve been up to and how upset my big sis is about my work.

“So, that’s what I’ve been doing until, well, I was caught by other thieves. I needed to get out of town and Balin said he was going to Indiana with my sisters. No one in their right mind would go to Indiana, but it was gettin’ too hot for me so that’s how I ended up here.” Nori finished off her braids. They were three individual braids which were wrapped together to create a single braid.

“Wow,” Bramble said, “That’s an amazing story!”

“I know. Balin has been keepin’ an eye on me like any old uncle would since then. He got Ori a job workin’ as a scribe and we have dinner once a week,” Nori said, “That includes Dwalin. He’s an old softie. Very protective of the king and his family, of course. If you are on his good side, you will be safe for the rest of your life.”

Until Wal-Mart, they all told stories about themselves and the company. Dori ran a successful tea business. Ori was a scribe. Bombur was a mom with a record setting amount of children: fourteen in total. Bofur and Bifur were both toy makers and miners. Bifur had been badly injured in a war and had an ax in his head which was only removed thanks to modern surgical techniques about a decade before. He could no longer communicate except through hand signs or in an ancient form of Khuzdul no one understood all the time except for Gandalf. Óin was a doctor. Glóin worked in the tinder business, was married, and had a young son named Gimli. (“Never ask about Gimli. She’ll never shut up.”) Balin was adviser to Thorin while Dwalin was head of the guard. Fíli and Kíli were barely of age and had not done anything particularly interesting yet, though Fíli had a talent for working with computers. Dís was a mechanic and had been married, but her husband had died in a mining accident. She currently helped with keeping the community peace in Erud Luin. Discussions about Erebor were avoided.

Throughout the stories, they would sing as loud as they could when their favorite songs came on the radio. There was a rousing rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen. There was a much fist pumping when “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” by Simple Minds played. The whole car was shaking when “Send Me On My Way” by Rusted Root came on a little bit before they arrived at Wal-Mart.

Thorin was in a foul mood when they stopped at the Wal-Mart fuel station. “The wizard is not here,” he said.

“A wizard is never late,” Bramble said in a gruff voice, “Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.”

Dís hopped onto the trunk of the Impala. “What now?”

“We wait for an hour and then leave without him,” Thorin said. He rubbed his eyes. “Now is as good a time as any for your lessons, Baggins.”

“What lessons?” Bramble asked.

Thorin glared at her. “Didn’t you read my note and the addition to the contract?”

“I saw the note, but didn’t have time to read it,” Bramble said.

Balin popped out of the car with the contract. He flipped it open and read from a paper which folded out from the rest of the contract. “Professor Belladonna Bramble Baggins will be given lessons in the languages of Dwarves during the trip and free access to the libraries of Erebor if they remain intact after the reclaiming of the Lonely Mountain.”

“What?” Bramble said, “Are you joking? This is a terrible joke.”

“You didn’t know when you signed?” Thorin asked.

“No! I wouldn’t have signed! It’s a terrible thing to say. Dwarves never teach their languages to outsiders. You know it’s what I would want. I am going home,” Bramble said.

She turned to leave but Thorin grabbed her arm. “I would never joke about what my people hold sacred. You do not want gold, but you want knowledge. I am willing to pay it if I will have my burglar.”

Bramble looked ready to cry. “Really? I’ll… the languages? The books?”

Thorin nodded. He realized he had been holding her arm for some time and let her go. “All of it. Only if you answer this: why come if not for the information?”

Bramble rubbed her eyes. “I… I suppose because… I needed an adventure and you need an overly educated burglar.” She smiled. “What does everyone like to eat?”

Chapter Text

Dís watched the professor run around to various members of the company to find out their favorite foods, particularly candy. Bramble looked as if she would burst from joy.

“Baggins!” Thorin said.

The Hobbit ran over. “Yes, sir?”

Thorin took out his wallet and pulled out forty dollars. “Buy boots. We don’t need a burglar with poison ivy on her feet. Do you have jeans?”

“Yes,” Bramble said.

“Go,” Thorin said.

Bramble nodded and ran to the store. She hopped as she slid on her gym shoes while she ran.

“She. Skips,” Thorin grumbled.

Dís patted her brother’s shoulder. “I think she’s just happy. Not all of us can be as… majestic as you.”

Thorin glared. “Are you mocking me?”

“It’s in the job description for baby sisters,” Dís said.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

After filling up the cars with fuel, they parked at the end of Wal-Mart’s parking lot. Bramble came back a half hour later with several paper shopping bags slung on her arms. One bag had rain boots which were lilac in color with white polka dots. Dori, Nori, and Ori were still inside.

“I come with food!” Bramble said.

If there is one way to get the attention of a Dwarf…

The Dwarves save for Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, and Dís rushed over to the Hobbit. Bramble passed out packages of candy and different types of fruits. She placed Dori, Nori, and Ori’s treats on their seats. She went over to the last four remaining Dwarves.

“Tangerine Altoids and an orange for Balin,” Bramble said, “Snickers and a banana for Dwalin. Some orange Tic-Tacs and an apple for Dís. And for our leader, mint Tic-Tacs and an apple. I got the food for you two from Fíli and Kíli’s recommendations. They weren’t pulling one over me, were they?”

“No, this is lovely,” Dís said.

“Oh, right,” Bramble said. She pulled out thirty dollars and some change from her pocket. “I got the boots. Bit of a sale. Thank you.”

Thorin said nothing, but he was certain that whatever boots she had bought, the Hobbit had spent some of her own money on it.

“No Gandalf?” Bramble asked.

“No. The wizard is not here yet,” Balin said.

Bofur ran up with a shopping cart. “Professor, are you up for a cart race?”

Bramble tossed her purchases into the Volkswagen bus. “Yes!” She hopped into the cart. “ONWARD TO VICTORY!”

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. He should have had warriors, an army at his side, to retake Erebor. He should not be dealing with children who had cart races in the parking lot of Wal-Mart.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Gandalf’s grey Oldsmobile pulled up next to the caravan fifteen minutes after the cart races had begun. Nori and Ori participated along with everyone else save the elder Durin siblings, the sons of Fundin, Óin, and Dori. There were no clear winners as the racers kept using the carts as bumper cars to knock their competition out of the running before being hit right back. The group came back when they saw Gandalf approach the older Dwarves.

“Well, everyone seems to be here,” Gandalf said.

“You’re late,” Thorin said.

“A wizard is never late. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to,” Gandalf said.

Balin tried not to smile as he saw Bramble mimicking the wizard.

“Do stop it, Bramble. You are not doing a very good job of mocking me,” Gandalf said without turning around.

Óin elbowed Nori. “Come on, Nori, pay up. Go on.”

Money began exchanging hands among many (but not all) of the Dwarves. Bramble walked over to Gandalf. “What’s that about?”

“Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you’d turn up. Most of them bet that you wouldn’t,” Gandalf said.

Bramble looked at Gandalf suspiciously. “What did you think?”

Gandalf caught a roll of cash. “My dear, I never doubted you for a second.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Gandalf and Thorin pulled out a book of maps of North America and began plotting their course. “We should avoid major highways,” Thorin said, “We could go cross over into Illinois, go straight down all the way to Texas, make a right, and we’ll be in New Mexico.”

“Just make sure you take that left at Albuquerque,” Bramble said.

Thorin raised an eyebrow to show his displeasure.

“Everyone loves Bugs Bunny,” Bramble mumbled.

“I have a different plan, Thorin,” Gandalf said, “We should go through Kentucky and Tennessee. At least as far as the Cumberland Gap.”

“I will not go to the elves,” Thorin said.

“You need to have those moon runes translated,” Gandalf said.

“The elves will delay us,” Thorin said.

“It’s about a six hour drive and you are still going south,” Bramble said, “And the elves are the ones who are most likely to be able to read the runes. If Gandalf can’t, you have to go to an even older source.”

“Are you calling me old, young lady?” Gandalf said.

“You are at least as old as the Shire, Gandalf. Yes, you’re old,” Bramble said.

Thorin huffed. “Fine, but only because we are going south. Any delay will be your doing, wizard.”

It began to rain.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

They had driven for an hour before having to pull over at a visitor center rest stop. The rain came down so hard they could no longer see the yellow and white lines of the road even with Gandalf’s (probably illegal) headlights. They all ran into the shelter and were soaked from the effort.

The visitor center was a brick building. In the lobby was an information desk was unmanned. To the right was the women’s bathroom and to the left was the men’s. There were four vending machines and several racks of pamphlets for Indiana. In the back was another set of glass doors which matched the front, only this one led to green grass where visitors could stretch their legs or walk their dogs. It was cold, dark, and smelled just on the wrong side of uncomfortable.

“Wizard, can’t you do something about this deluge?” Dori asked as she tried wringing water out of the shirt she still wore.

Gandalf shook his blue-grey fedora. “It is raining and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.”

“Are there any?” Kíli asked.

“What?” Gandalf asked.

“Other wizards?” Fíli clarified.

Gandalf took out some lemon drops. “There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman the White. Then there are the two Blue Wizards…. you know, I’ve quite forgotten their names.”

“And who is the fifth?” Ori asked.

“Well, that would be Radagast the Brown,” Gandalf said.

Bramble said, “Is he a great Wizard or is he... more like you?” She wriggled her eyebrows.

Gandalf huffed. “No lemon drops for you. I think he’s a very great wizard, in his own way. He’s a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands of this continent, and a good thing too, for always Evil will look to find a foothold in this world.”

“Oh no!” Kíli shouted. He ran outside with Fíli close behind.

“What’s wrong?” Bramble said.

Before anyone could follow them, Fíli came in with a young boy who was about ten years old wrapped in her coat. Kíli came in after his sister, helping a woman with two bags.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman said, “The bags were such a hassle and…”

“No worries, ma’am,” Kíli said, “I am still soaked, so it’s no problem.”

The boy removed Fíli’s coat. “Thank you. It was very kind of you.”

“It was the decent thing to do,” Fíli said. She ruffled the boy’s brown hair. “Besides, my mom would kick my butt if she knew I could of helped someone and didn’t.”

Dís smiled at her daughter. “That’s right.”

“A, Mithrandir!” the boy said. He ran over to the wizard. “Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn.”

“Mae g'ovannen!” Gandalf said. He gave a lemon drop to the child.

“Le fael!” the boy said.

The woman spoke to Gandalf for a moment. She was anxious, but Gandalf seemed to calm her.

“Company,” Gandalf said, “This is an old friend of mine, Gilraen and her son.”

The boy bowed to the company. “Estel, at your service.”

Chapter Text

Bramble’s ears perked up when she heard the little boy speaking in Sindarin. She went over to him. “Gi suilon! Im Bramble Baggins.”

“Pedil edhellen?”

“No,” Bramble said as she nodded in the affirmative.

“What are you saying to him, Baggins?” Thorin said.

“I gave my name. The child asked if I spoke Elvish. I just said yes,” Bramble said.

“You just said no,” Ori said.

“No means yes in Sindarin,” Bramble said.

“Oooooooh,” Ori said before being smacked behind the head by her eldest sister.

Estel tugged at Bramble’s sleeve. “Peditham hi sui vellyn?”

Bramble looked up to Estel’s Mother who nodded her approval. “No,” Bramble said with a wide smile.

Estel cheered before talking about all his favorite things. Bramble was too distracted to pay any attention to the discord in the Company.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

“He’s an Elf child!” Óin hissed in Khuzdul.

“And the professor speaks Sindarin! She’s an Elf-friend!” Dori said.

“I shouldn’t have helped,” Fíli moaned.

Dís smacked her eldest behind the head. “Of course you should have. It would have been even more hostile if you did not. Besides, even rats look pathetic when they drown.”

“We can’t just stay here,” Nori said.

“Now, what is the matter?” Gandalf said also in Khuzdul, “Does your hatred run so deep you would turn a helpless child out into a rain so bad you ‘mighty warriors’ will not brave it?”

“Why should we help those who did not help us?” Dwalin said.

“The child is not an Elf,” Thorin said, “We let them be.”

“What do you mean he’s not an Elf?” all of the Dwarves said.

“I will not repeat myself,” Thorin said.

Gandalf sighed. “A curse on Dwarves and their stiff necks. It should not matter either way. The child is of the race of Men as have been his parents. They are, however, Elf-friends.”

“And what of our burglar?” Balin said.

“Bramble is interested in all the peoples of Middle-Earth. She learned the languages of the elves from her mother, who indeed was an Elf-friend, may she rest in peace,” Gandalf said, “Our dear Hobbit, as you know, hates fighting. She will not cause harm to any of you. If I do not see the lot of you treating the dear boy as well as you would your own nieces and nephews, I will personally throw you out of this place.”

The Dwarves hesitated.

“Do. As. The. Wizard. Says,” Thorin growled.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

“The Dwarves don’t like me,” Estel told Bramble as he showed her his high score on his favorite game on his I-Pad.

“They don’t always like people. They are not too fond of me either,” Bramble said.

“I don’t know what I did wrong,” Estel said.

Bramble was quiet as she thought. “Can you give me a second?”

Estel nodded and went over to his Mother who was speaking to Gandalf. Bramble moved briskly to where the Dwarves sat on the other side of the room. She put her hands on her hips.

“Why are you so cold to this boy?” Bramble asked, “Did he do something unspeakably rude?”

“No,” Dwalin said.

“What did he… oh you childish… I can’t believe all of you,” Bramble said. She knew of the Dwarves and elves animosity to each other, but she did not think it would apply to a young child.

Bramble felt a tug at her sleeve. She saw Estel standing next to her. “Yes, Estel?”

Estel moved to stand in front of her. “I’m sorry if I made you feel stupid when I didn’t speak in Common Tongue. I felt stupid too when I first came to uncle’s home. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m sorry.”

Glóin, Bombur, and Dis cooed together, “He’s so polite!”

Thorin glared at the three mothers before turning back to Estel. “That was not the problem, Estel. Thank you for the apology. It was nothing you have done. We are just a group of grumpy Dwarves and an over-excited Hobbit. You did nothing wrong.”

“I am not over-excited!” Bramble protested.

Estel beamed. “Thank you, Mr. Oakenshield!”

“It’s just Thorin.”

“Thank you, Mr. Thorin!” Estel said, “Do you guys want to watch a movie? I have some on my I-Pad. It’ll be small, but I do have speakers so everyone can hear.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Fíli, Kíli, Ori, Bifur, Bofur, and Bramble sat with Estel to watch the movie. Gilraen, Dís , Bombur, and Glóin discussed child rearing. Dwalin watched one door and Thorin the other. The rest worked on their crafts or organized some of their supplies. The rain continued

“The Lion King is one of my favorite movies,” Kíli said.

“It’s based on Hamlet,” Bramble said.

“By William Shakespeare,” Ori said, “He was a Dwarf, you know.”

“Yes, I did. He was a good business Dwarf and he knew the theater would make him a lot of money, so he wrote plays,” Bramble said.

“It’s part of the reason why scribes are important in Dwarf kingdoms. Besides writing down the history of our people, we have one of the greatest writers of all time. Even the elves will acknowledge him,” Ori said.

“I’ve always wanted to see a first folio,” Bramble sighed.

“Shush,” Estel said, “They’re about to sing my favorite song. ‘I’m going to be a mighty king, so enemies beware!’”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

The rain still poured in evening. No one had come to kick the group out, so they camped there for the night. When Bramble explained she did not think to bring a sleeping bag or a blanket, Dwalin tossed one of his blankets to her. “We can’t have a Hobbit with a cold.”

Dwalin was still on watch when most of the group began to fall asleep. Gilraen slept near her son, always having one hand on him to make sure he was near. Dís slept near her children as well, but seemed to be not as worried her children would disappear in the night. The rest had spread out in their usual groupings. Bramble slept near the door and Gandalf. The wizard was still awake and playing with his electronic cigarette. He was trying to use it to quit smoking (upon Bramble’s request). Thorin was also by the door, but had fallen asleep sitting up.

There was a shrill sound from outside. Bramble sat up. “What was that?” she hissed at Fíli and Kíli, who were awake and whispering to each other.

A look of horror crossed their faces. “Orcs,” Kíli said.

Thorin and Gilraen jerked awake at the word.

“Orcs?” Bramble asked, her voice shaking.

“Throat-cutters. There’ll be dozens of them out there. The country is crawling with them,” Fíli said.

Kíli continued, “They strike in the small hours, when everyone’s asleep. Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood.”

Bramble wrapped herself tighter in the blanket, unsure of what to do. She did not know how to fight. She did not even have a proper weapon. What could she…

Fíli and Kíli started laughing. Bramble huffed in frustration.

Thorin stood up and walked over to his niece and nephew. “You think that’s funny? You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?” His reprimanding woke up the rest of the group.

Fíli and Kíli both looked down in shame. “We didn’t mean anything by it,” Kíli said softly.

“No, you didn’t. You know nothing of the world,” Thorin growled. He began to pace around the room.

Balin yawned and made his way over to sit between Bramble and Dís ’ children. He spoke quietly. “Don’t mind him, professor. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thrór tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first…”

Bramble listened to Balin’s tale of the Battle of Azanulbizar. She had read about it in history books, but had never heard a Dwarf speak of the events. It was too painful. It was one of the worst battles of the Third Age or of any age. Though Balin did not mention it, Bramble knew Thorin and Dís’ brother, Frerin, had died in the battle. A grandfather killed and mutilated, a father who went mad, and a younger brother barely of age killed before the battle’s end. It was a horror story, not a failed venture like the history books said. The only hope in the story was Thorin’s determination to not fail his people.

“Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, no song, that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived,” Balin said. He had a look of pride on his face when he said the last of his tale. “And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King.”

Thorin seemed unaware of the group. All of the Dwarves looked at him with such respect and love it made Bramble want to take up a weapon and defend the king without a kingdom.

“But the pale orc? What happened to him?” Estel asked.

“He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago,” Thorin said, “Balin, that story is too gruesome for a child when he is supposed to be sleeping. All of you. What are you doing up? Go back to sleep.”

The mood broke. The group began to settle down to go to slumber. As Bramble fell asleep, she saw Thorin speak to Gilraen, though she could not hear what they said.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

The rain stopped a little after eight in the morning. Fíli and Kíli helped Gilraen and Estel to the car. Estel hugged the three youngest Dwarves and Bramble before he left. Bifur and Bofur both gave a toy to the young boy before sending them on their way.

“You should go as fast as you can while still being safe,” Gandalf said.

“I always do. Thank you, Gandalf,” Gilraen said, “Galu.”

“Na lû e-govaned vîn,” Gandalf said. He tapped on the hood of the Prius and let the mother and son drive away.

“Everyone pack up. We’re leaving. We’ve already lost enough time,” Thorin said.

Bramble put her backpack into the Volkswagen before going over to Thorin. “You hate elves. Why did you allow your company to spend time with an Elf-friend?”

“Let’s just say… it was respect from one king to another. I’m sure if you think through your history, you will know what I mean, professor,” Thorin said.

Bramble thought Thorin’s words over. The group had almost done packing when she remembered. She ran over to Thorin as he was about to get into the Impala.

“Arathorn, exiled heir to Gondor, was killed eight years ago. He was survived by a two-year-old son whose name is unknown and a wife named Gilraen,” Bramble whispered.

Thorin nodded. “Get in the van, Baggins, before we either leave you or run you over.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

The day continued being overcast with sporadic rain. They had been in Kentucky for some time when one of the wheels on the Impala gave out. The Company pulled over to a nearby driveway to repair the flat. There was a burned out ruin of a farmhouse at the end of the gravel road.

“Dís use whatever you need. There is a spare in the trunk,” Thorin said, “Baggins, there was a mechanics shop down the road two miles back. Dís may need you to go there for parts. Get your bike ready.”

“A farmer and his family used to live here,” Gandalf said quietly, “I think it would be wiser to move on and come back for the Impala. We could make for the Hidden Valley in an hour or so.”

“I am not leaving one of our vehicles behind just because you want to gossip with your Elf friends,” Thorin said.

“I am going there to assist in your quest,” Gandalf said.

“Elves will never help us and you know it. They never have and never will,” Thorin said.

“I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past,” Gandalf said.

“I did not know that they were yours to keep,” Thorin said.

Gandalf stormed off to his car.

“Gandalf, where are you going?” Bramble asked.

“To seek the company of the only one around here who has any sense,” Gandalf said.

“Who’s that?” Bramble asked.

“Myself, Belladonna Baggins! I’ve had enough of Dwarves for one day,” Gandalf said before shutting the car door and driving off.

Bramble made a strangled and frustrated noise before storming off.

Dís stood by her brother. “It is around lunch time.”

“So?” Thorin said.

“We should get something to eat,” Dís said.

“We have food in the vans,” Thorin said.

“Real food,” Dís said, “Not that… dry… whatever those things are. There was a diner across from the mechanics shop back there. Besides, you’re cranky. You do better when you’ve eaten.”

“I’m always cranky,” Thorin said.

“Which is why you should eat more,” Dís said.

Thorin rubbed his eyes. “Fine. Fíli! Kíli! Stay with the Impala. Baggins, you’ll bike back with food for those two. Move out.”

Chapter Text

Bramble ate with as much dignity as she could while scarfing down her sandwich. “Here are the boxes,” the waiter said.

“Thanks,” Bramble said. She ran out of the diner, unhooked her bike from the van, and cycled back towards the broken down car.

When she arrived at the gravel driveway, she saw Fíli and Kíli arguing.

“What’s the matter?” the Hobbit asked.

“We were supposed to be looking out for the Impala,” Fíli said.

“But we got hungry,” Kíli said.

“And there were these apple trees a bit of a ways over there,” Fíli said.

“And when we came back,” Kíli said.

They both motioned to the empty driveway.

“Well, that’s not good. That’s not good at all. Shouldn’t we tell Thorin?” Bramble said. She tried to reach for her phone.

“No!” Fíli said, “Let’s not worry him.”

“Also, he’ll kill us for losing his car,” Kíli said before being elbowed by Fíli.

Fíli continued, “As our official burglar, we thought you might like to look into it. It’s um… probably some local kids.”

“I don’t even know where to find the car!” Bramble said.

Fíli and Kíli looked around. “It seems like someone recently pushed a car further up the drive,” Kíli said. He grabbed the two lunches from the basket.

The three went up the drive, avoiding rotten green fruit that had fallen from the trees. Eventually, they saw car tracks that went off into the woods.

“I hear something,” Bramble said.

They walked over to the crest of the hill. Kíli carefully looked over.

“Trolls,” Kíli hissed as he ducked back down, “They have the Impala.”

“Trolls?” Bramble said. She looked over the hill and saw three abnormally large creatures at least twice her height. They had humanoid features, but their grey skin and thick bodies reminded her of boulders. “They are going to rip it apart! We have to do something.”

“Yes, you should. Mountain trolls are slow and stupid, and you’re so small,” Fíli said.

“You’re shorter than me! I can’t steal a car!” Bramble said.

“Just the weapons in the trunk so we can give them to idad so he can get the car back. It’s already open. There’s a hidden compartment that is opened by pressing a blue button on the left side of the trunk,” Fíli said.

“No,” Bramble said.

“They’ll never see you,” Kíli said, “It’s perfectly safe! We’ll be right behind you.”

“If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl, once like a brown owl,” Fíli said.

They dragged her to the edge of the clearing, stopping in front of some bushes..

“I don’t know how to hoot like…” Bramble turned around and found herself alone. “Oh, this is a bad idea.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

“Nasty business those trolls,” a diner that sat behind Thorin said to the waiter, “That poor family. Robbed blind and killed.”

“As long as folks stay away from that farm, they’ll be safe until the Rangers can deal with it,” the waiter said.

Thorin tilted back in his seat. “We’ll need that check immediately. A family emergency has just come up.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Bramble took off her boots. The clearing was made of grass and dirt so she did not have to worry about her feet being cut by rocks. Besides, she needed stealth more than she needed to avoid irritating plants. She began moving towards the car.

“Spam yesterday, Spam today, and if it don’t look like Spam again tomorrow,” Bert said.

“Shut up. At least we got whatever these things are,” Tom said.

“They’re MREs and I don’t like ‘em,” William said.

“Well, it’s better than the leathery old farmer. All skin and bone, he was. I’m still picking bits of him out of me teeth,” Bert said.

Bramble crept close enough to hide behind the Impala. She took a moment to catch her breath. Fainting in a troll camp would do good for no one. The trolls kept discussing the terrible food they had been eating lately.

The Hobbit moved to the open the secret compartment of the Impala. The trunk looked as if it had been partially ripped off. Bramble found the blue button Fíli had described to her. The compartment quickly opened, but Bramble slowed it down so it did not hit the top of the trunk. All of the supplies had been taken, but none of the weapons had. Several shotguns, handguns, axes, knives, and swords were in a bag as well as ammo.

She was about to begin taking items when she felt one of the trolls grab her legs. Bramble screamed, “LET GO OF ME YOU BOULDER!”

“What are you? An oversized squirrel?” Tom asked. He held Bramble by her legs and upside down.

A wild thought of being grateful for wearing jeans under her skirt crossed Bramble’s mind before she yelled, “I AM ANGRY AND CROSS AT YOU!”

“This one’s a screamer,” William said.

“Can we cook her?” Bert asked.

“We can try!” William said.

“She wouldn’t make more than a mouthful, not when she’s skinned and boned!” Bert said.

“Maybe there’s more of them. Maybe enough for a pie!” Tom said enthusiastically.

“Nope! No one but me! I’m the only one around these parts!” Bramble said. (Which was true. She was the only Hobbit outside of Indiana.)

“Drop her!” Kíli said as he burst out of the bushes with his hand gun drawn.

“You what?” Tom said.

“I said,” Kíli fired a shot that scratched Tom’s arm, “Drop her.”

“Kíli run!” Bramble said before being tossed at the Dwarf. She knocked him off his feet.

There was a shout in Khuzdul before several guns fired. The bullets did almost no harm to the trolls, but it did distract them long enough for Nori to sneak into the clearing. She took the non-mechanical weapons and ran back into the forest.

Dwalin, Balin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, Fíli, Óin, and Glóin came out from among the trees with swords and axes. The manual weapons seemed to hurt the trolls more than bullets.

Bramble was about to run with Kíli when a troll grabbed by her legs again. This time, she took her pocket knife out and tried to stab the troll. It did not even notice. Another troll took her arms and they began to stretch Bramble until she screamed.

“PUT DOWN YOUR ARMS OR WE’LL RIP ITS OFF!”

Bramble tried to tell the Company to run, but all she could do was scream in pain. She heard something pop.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Thorin wanted to smack the Hobbit with a log or another heavy object. However, this would not happen if the trolls ripped her into pieces.

“Weapons down!” Thorin shouted in Khuzdul.

Dís, Thorin, and Ori jumped out of the trees they had been sniping in. Thorin knelt to the ground and removed the ammunition from the rifle he had been using. Dís and Ori did the same with their guns. Everyone put their weapons on the ground and their hands behind their heads.

The two trolls dropped Bramble. She bit her lip and tried not to move her arms, but one of the trolls roughly stuffed her into a sack, making her scream again. Thorin felt sick. He could hear her whimpering. “Run. Please run.”

The trolls next stuffed most of the company into sacks. Dwalin, Bofur, Dori, Ori and Nori were strapped onto a spit before the trolls started a fire under them. The trolls tossed Dís and Kíli on top of Thorin while Fíli, Balin, Óin, Glóin, Bifur, and Bombur were near his feet. The Hobbit lay on her stomach near the fire and breathed heavily.

The three trolls argued about how to cook the Dwarves and the Hobbit before the clouds broke. Amongst the lovely options were: squashing them into jelly, making them into a pie, sautéing them with a sprinkle of sage…

“Wait! You are making a terrible mistake,” Bramble said.

“You can’t reason with them, they’re half-wits!” Dori shouted.

“Half-wits? What does that make us?” Bofur snarked.

With a screech of pain, Bramble pushed herself up to her knees and stood on her feet. “The seasoning is all wrong!”

“What about the seasoning?” Bert said.

“Well, have you smelled them? I’ve smelled corpses that were fresher than their feet,” Bramble said.

Thorin began shouting at Bramble at the indignity of such. She went barefoot! She skipped! As if she could discuss feet!

“What do you know about cooking Dwarf?” Tom grumbled.

“Shut up and let the… whatever it is talk,” Bert said.

“Uh, well, the secret to cooking Dwarf is… the secret is… to skin them first!” Bramble said.

“Tom, get me the filleting knife,” Bert said.

The Dwarves cursed Bramble and all the Halflings.

Tom said, “What a load of rubbish! I’ve eaten plenty with their skins on. Scuff them, I say, boots and all.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of raw Dwarf! Nice and crunchy,” William said. He picked up Bombur and was about to eat her whole when Bramble interrupted.

“NO! NOT THAT ONE! SHE’S… INFECTED! Yeah, she’s got worms in her… tubes.” William dropped Bombur back into the pile. “In fact, they all have worms. They’re infested with parasites. The worst kinds. The kind that eat your brains. It’s a terrible business. I wouldn’t risk it. I really wouldn’t.”

The Dwarves began yelling about the traitorous nature of Hobbits until Thorin saw Bramble wink at him and tilt her head towards the top of the hill. He saw the edge of a grey suit in the distance. He kicked the Dwarves near him. The Company paused and realized that Bramble was trying to save them.

“I’ve got parasites as big as my arm.”

“Mine are the biggest parasites, I’ve got huge parasites!”

“We’re riddled.”

“Yes, I’m riddled.”

“Yes we are. Badly!”

Tom said, “What would you have us do, then, let ‘em all go?”

Bramble tilted her head and smiled slightly. “Well...”

Tom pushed Bramble onto her back and she yelped in pain. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to? This little ferret is taking us for fools!”

“The light will take you all!” a deep voice shouted.

The top of the hill split, revealing the sun on its way towards the west. The trolls screamed until they were silenced by becoming stone.

Bramble rolled onto her stomach. “Someone please hit me over the head the next time I do something so stupid ever again.”

Chapter Text

Gandalf freed those on the spit after putting the fire out. As he began cutting Dwarves out sacks, he said, “Bramble, what are you doing with your face in the ground?”

“Digging my way to freedom,” Bramble said dryly. She turned her head towards the wizard. “I think the trolls pulled my arms out of their sockets.”

Bofur came over and cut Bramble out of her sack. He sat her up with care. “Óin, have a look.”

Thorin came over and put one hand on Bramble’s right shoulder and another around her arm. “What you did was very clever, Baggins.”

“Thanks, but all I did was ARRRRRRRG!” Thorin had popped her right arm back in her socket. “WHAT BY ALL THE MUSHROOMS IN THE SHIRE WHAT WAS THAT?”

“You couldn’t tense up when I did that,” Thorin said. He patted her left shoulder. “I won’t do it again. Óin needs to look you over.”

Bramble groaned and began to relax. “Thank you. That was unpleasant to ARRRRRRRG!” He had popped her left arm back in place.

“I didn’t do it to your right arm again and Óin does need to look at it,” Thorin said. He rubbed between her shoulder blades for a moment. “Good Hobbit. Stay out of trouble while I talk with the wizard.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Something in Thorin’s chest felt… odd. He had been worried about the Hobbit. He had probably been worried too much about her, seeing as she was nothing but trouble and had nearly gotten the entire Company killed.

Thorin walked over to Gandalf as he examined the stone trolls. “Where did you go?”

“To look ahead.”

“What brought you back?”

“Looking behind. Nasty business. Still, they’re all in one piece and the Rangers will have one less thing to do.”

“No thanks to your professor,” Thorin said.

“She had the nerves to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that and she did it while she was injured,” Gandalf said.

Thorin looked back at the Hobbit. Bofur brushed dirt off her nose and told Bramble a joke that made her laugh. She seemed to already be back to her normal self.

“They must have come down from the Ettenmoors of Tennessee,” Gandalf said, breaking Thorin’s watch of Bramble.

“Since when do mountain trolls venture this far north?” Thorin asked.

“Oh, not for an age, not since a darker power ruled these lands.”

Thorin felt a sudden cold wash over him.

“They could not have moved in true daylight,” Gandalf said.

“There must be a cave nearby,” Thorin said, “Dís, get the car running. Balin, Óin, Fíli, Kíli, and Baggins stay behind. Everyone else, with me.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Bramble was glad that she did not have to go get any parts for Dís. She still shook from the trolls. Óin had declared her physically fine even after Thorin’s rough handling of her. Bofur’s good humor had been a great help to her, but now she felt cold, tired, and hungry. But not Spam. Anything but Spam.

“My children put you up to it,” Dís stated from where she knelt next to the Impala.

“My actions are my own,” Bramble said.

“Good. At least one of the three of you is responsible for your choices. I am going to kick their butts all the way back to New York if they keep acting up and doing such idiotic things,” Dís said.

“They may be impulsive, but they certainly do want to help people,” Bramble said.

“And that is why I am not in despair of them… well, going like the rest of the family,” Dís said.

“Thorin seems to be doing alright. He’s just a bit grumpy,” Bramble said.

“That is a Dwarf trait, professor,” Dís said, “I’m grumpy too, just not as bad. Unlike my brother, I actually remember to eat three meals a day.”

“Three? Oh, right. Hobbits eat seven,” Bramble said, “I’m sorry. My brain is a bit scattered.”

“Seven?” the Dwarves said at the same time.

Before Bramble could answer, the search group had returned. Thorin had a sword strapped to his back while Gandalf held a sword in one hand and a long knife in the other.

“I feel the need to drown myself in soap,” Dori said.

“It did smell awful there,” Ori said.

“I have never seen that much junk in one place,” Bombur said.

“At least we have that little… deposit,” Glóin said.

“Is there a hoarders anonymous for trolls?” Bofur asked, “Maybe a Hoarders Anonymous Trollville so it could be called HAT.”

“Ooooooh. Shiny sword, Thorin,” Dís said.

“I’m not giving it to you,” Thorin said.

Dís pouted. “You are a terrible big brother.”

Thorin rolled his eyes at Dís before focusing on the Hobbit. “Baggins! Where are your boots?”

“Oh, right. I took them off to sneak into the camp,” Bramble said.

“Fíli! Fetch them. We don’t want to deal with a burglar with bleeding feet along with the rest of this mess,” Thorin said. He stood in front of Bramble and glared at her. “You are permitted one stupid action on this quest. In your case, it will be sneaking into a dragon’s lair where the dragon may or may not be dead. Running off to steal from trolls is not your decision to make. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Bramble said, “So, does that mean your stupid action was putting down your weapons for one Hobbit?”

“You, Professor Baggins, are a part of my Company. That means we will get you out of whatever trouble you get into,” Thorin said. After a moment of silence, he changed topics. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

“Only point at something you are willing to kill, they’re loud, there’s a recoil and… that is about it,” Bramble said.

“Well, I have dealt with people who knew less,” Thorin said.

He grabbed Bramble’s arm and pulled her towards the trees. They stopped at the edge of the clearing where Thorin let Bramble go. “We don’t have time for a proper lesson or even how to load a weapon.” He pulled out his gun. “This is a Glock 17 with 9mm rounds. This is how you hold the gun. Make sure you are not locked into position. This is how you take off the safety. This is how you turn it on again. Make sure your thumbs are like this or else they will be chopped off. You press here and boom. There will be recoil. The shot will be much louder than in the movies. Your turn. Don’t actually shoot it.”

The Hobbit repeated what the Dwarf had done three times. Thorin handed her his sunglasses. “This is not ideal and your ears will be ringing, but you need to know about the recoil. Try to hit the tree a few feet in front of you. There are three bullets left in there. Shoot them all.”

He took several steps back. “Go.”

Bramble did as she was told and felt sick from the moment she fired the first bullet. Her ears rang as the first casing hit Thorin’s sunglasses. Bramble’s hands became numb from the vibrations of the gun. It jerked around more than she expected. There was something else entirely disturbing about the weapon she held in her hand.

She put the gun’s safety back on and took several steps back until she bumped into Thorin. He took the gun and reloaded it. Thorin pulled off the gun’s holster from his belt and put it on the waistband of Bramble’s jeans, his fingers brushing against her skin for a moment. “At least you hit the tree. Keep that on you at all times. Remember: do not close your eyes. If you don’t keep them open, you may hit an ally.”

Bramble nodded. Thorin patted her shoulder. “Next shooting range, you’re trying out all of the guns we have so you know what to do in an emergency.” He went back to his sister and discussed how badly the Impala was damaged.

Gandalf gently pulled Bramble away to present to her the short sword he had. “I thought this might be more your size.”

“I can’t take this,” Bramble asked.

“The blade is of Elvish make which means it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby,” Gandalf said.

“I don’t… I didn’t like it. The gun,” Bramble said, “I feel so cold using it.”

Gandalf nodded. “There is only one purpose for a gun and that is to kill. With swords or archery, there is an art to it that can be used for beauty. Axes are used to cut down trees to build warm hearths. A sword is not as clumsy or random as a gun: an elegant weapon for a more civilized age.”

“Don’t you dare go all Obi-Wan Kenobi on me,” Bramble said as she smiled.

“I hope you never have to use it, my dear. If you do use the sword, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one,” Gandalf said.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Fíli sighed in relief when she heard that the Impala was in good enough shape to drive. The trunk would have to be duct taped down until they got to Rivendell, but Dís believed a replacement could be found.

“Good. I was worried Minty might have been permanently damaged,” Thorin said.

“Minty?” Bramble said.

“The car is always a girl and the car always names herself,” Thorin said, “At least it’s a car and not a bicycle named Myrtle.”

They started the car and get it back with the rest of the caravan. As they were about to leave the place entirely, they heard a loud engine coming from the direction of Rivendell.

“Thieves! Fire! Murder!” a hippie in all brown screamed from his motorized bicycle.

Chapter Text

The man screamed, “Thieves! Fire! Murder!” as he came down toward Gandalf and the Company on his motorized bike.

“Radagast! What on earth are you doing here?” Gandalf said. The Company began putting away their weapons.

Radagast got off his bike and pulled out a family of hedgehogs from a side bag. “I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong.”

“Yes?” Gandalf said.

Radagast tried to explain but he could not find the words. “Oh, just give me a minute. Um, oh, I had a thought, and now I’ve lost it. It was, it was right there, on the tip of my tongue.” He became surprised. “Oh, it’s not a thought at all; it’s a silly old...” He pulled a live bug out of his mouth. “…stick insect!”

The Dwarves and Bramble looked at each other in confusion. Dwalin made a “crazy” hand signal. Gandalf pulled Radagast away from the group so that the brown wizard would not be overwhelmed.

Thorin nodded to Nori.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

The thief sneaked off to climb up a tree to hear the conversation between the wizards. Nori could not let any harm befall the company. Her silent ways had long kept the people she cared about safe and she would continue to do so, though she was worried that she would anger a wizard or two.

The conversation was about a “Greenwood”. Nori was confused until she remembered that Mirkwood had been called Greenwood once. There was some sort of arachnid problem in “Dol Guldur”. Apparently, it was supposed to be abandoned, but now had a Necromancer running around in it.

After casting a glance to Bramble, Gandalf brought out his pipe and packed it for Radagast to smoke. It seemed to relax the brown wizard and so they both fell into silence.

Nori shimmied down the tree and reported her findings to the Company.

“Dol Guldur,” Thorin said quietly, “Why would anyone want to go to that evil place? Just being in Florida alone would make it…”

A howl called out in the distance.

The group jumped and pulled out their weapons.

“That doesn’t sound like wolves. I know that noise,” Bramble said as she pulled out her long knife.

“Wolves? No, that is not a wolf,” Bofur said.

A warg jumped out from behind them and pinned Dori. Thorin pulled out his sword and slayed the beast. Another warg came from the trees and Kíli brought it down with his rifle. Dwalin finished the job with a double-tap to the warg’s head from his shotgun.

“Warg-scouts! Which means an orc pack is not far behind,” Thorin said.

“Orc pack?” Bramble said.

“Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?” Gandalf asked Thorin.

“No one.”

“Who did you tell?” Gandalf asked again.

“No one, I swear,” Thorin said, “What’s going on?”

“You are being hunted,” Gandalf said.

“Everyone!” Thorin commanded, “Balin, Nori, Ori, with me. Glóin, Fíli, Dís, Baggins in the SUV. Everyone else in the van. MOVE!”

“I’ll draw them off,” Radagast said.

“These are Gundabad Wargs; they will bite your head off on that bike of yours!” Gandalf said.

“These is a Rhosgobel Rabbit; I’d like to see them try!” Radagast said.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Kíli was starting to get car sick from how fast Dori was taking the turns in the mountains. They went at least double the speed as before and the young Dwarf was unsure of how they had yet to turn over. The only good thing was that they had outrun the wargs in a few minutes.

“Just got a text from Ori. Wizard says we will be in Rivendell in five minutes,” Dwalin said.

Kíli let out a sigh. Good they were going to…

A rusted pick-up truck came barreling down the mountain from the opposite direction they were driving. It rammed into the SUV, causing it to slam into the rock face on the passenger side.

“AMAD! FILI!” Kíli shouted.

Smoke came from the engine of the SUV.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Glóin shook her head. Her vision was blurry, but she could smell smoke and gasoline. Glóin’s sight began to return to her and she saw the pick-up truck back away from the SUV, ready to ram them again.

A shot rang through the air as the glass of Glóin’s window broke. The windshield broke in the pick-up truck.

“COME AND FIGHT ME!” Fíli screamed as she fired another shot from her sniper rifle.

Orcs began climbing out of the pick-up. Glóin unbuckled her seat belt and pulled out her hand gun.

“DÍS! DÍS! WAKE UP!” Bramble shouted as she shook the Dwarf.

“What’s wrong with Amad?” Fíli said, never taking her eyes off the orcs.

One of the orcs raised a gun, but was hit by the Impala. Ori and Nori shot the orcs from the car. Passengers in the van began climbing out and attacking the orcs. Even Gandalf had gotten out of his vehicle and used his new sword to take down goblins.

“Her head has a lot of blood and she is not responding,” Bramble said, “We need to get her out. The car is catching on fire.”

All of the orcs from the pick-up were dead. Glóin unlocked the doors and pushed her door open. Fíli climbed out on the driver’s side.

“You have to keep her head steady!” Bramble said, “This is not ideal, but we can’t have her stay in the car!”

Bramble held Dís’ neck and head while Fíli opened the door. Kíli came over and carried his mother.

“In my car!” Gandalf said.

Kíli and Fíli rushed over to the grey Oldsmobile and slid their Mother as gently as they could into the back seat. The sound of wargs and orcs could be heard.

“I’m stuck!” Bramble screamed.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Bofur rushed over to Bramble. “Professor!”

“It’s stuck!” Bramble said as she tried to yank the seat belt.

Bofur pulled out a dagger and began cutting Bramble out of her seat. When he finished, he pulled the Hobbit out of the car and onto her feet.

“Don’t hit one of us!” Bofur said as he pulled out his .44 Magnum.

The cars were in a semi-circle around the SUV, blocking the road on both sides. Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli were near the Impala, defending the unconscious Dís.

“There are more coming!” Kíli said.

“Kíli! Fíli! Shoot them!” Thorin said.

“We’re surrounded!” Fíli said as she tried to take down as many orcs as she could that were climbing or driving towards them.

“GANDALF! GET YOUR STINKING ELVES HERE NOW!” Thorin said.

“I have already called them! There is nothing more I can…” A bullet ripped through the wizard’s shoulder.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Bramble did not even have it in her to scream. The Hobbit ran to where Gandalf had fallen. She pulled off her lilac scarf and began applying pressure to the wound.

“I’ll be fine. Defend yourself,” Gandalf said as he put his hand over the bullet hole, “It’s only a flesh wound.”

“No Monty Python references,” Bramble said.

“Get your materials,” Gandalf said, “Drive the rest of the way to Rivendell with Dís. We can take care of ourselves here.”

Bramble nodded and ran. A bullet punctured her left boot but not her leg. She dove through the open door of the van and rummaged through the luggage. When she had pulled out her materials, she saw an orc as he broke the window near her with his elbow.

The Hobbit pulled out her gun and did as Thorin instructed her. It took three bullets, but the orc did die from a bullet to the head. Her other bullets either injured the other orcs or missed entirely. When her ammunition was gone, Bramble disposed of the gun. She ran out of the van, away from the scene of her first kill.

“Baggins! What are you doing?” Thorin said as Bramble tossed her brown paper wrapped materials into Gandalf’s car.

“Saving your sister!” Bramble said, “Now if any of you want to see her safe, come with me now! Someone get Gandalf and…”

A siren blasted in the area, causing the Dwarves to flinch. Bullets and even some arrows hit the orcs which were not from the Company. The road to Rivendell was clear. Dís began convulsing.

“There is no time for the wizard. Fíli with your Mother! Kíli, shotgun! GET IN NOW BAGGINS!” Thorin said as he shoved the Hobbit next to Kíli. He drove off before even shutting his door completely.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Thorin avoided the corpses as best as he could. Bramble gave orders to Fíli. “Make sure she doesn’t fall out of her seat, but avoid holding her down until the seizure stops. Put her on her side. Does anyone have a jacket or something we can put under her head. Kíli, get that hoodie off.”

After another minute, Dís’ body began to still. “Now, keep her head steady. Good girl. Everything will be fine.” Baggins turned to Thorin. “I have a plan, but I am going to need you to trust me. Give up your weapons and do not fight the elves, no matter what happens. Everyone, when we stop, you need to put your hands either on the dashboard or against the windows. You must show yourselves not to be a threat.”

“What are they going to…” Thorin slammed on the breaks when they came to a road block. Four elves had rifles trained on the car.

Bramble climbed over Kíli and threw her materials on the ground before she got on her knees. “HALT! HALT! AV-'OSTO!”

An Elf approached the Hobbit and put a rifle against her head. He spoke quietly enough so Thorin could not hear it.

“Boe de nestad!” Bramble said as she motioned back towards the Oldsmobile.

“Man esselya ná?” the Elf said.

“Im Belladonna Bramble Baggins!” the Hobbit said. She motioned to the package before her. “Mellon Elrond! Mellon! Mellon!”

Thorin tried to move, but the elves began shouting at him not to move or be shot. Bramble said as she motioned to the car, “Mellon! Mellon! Mellon!”

“Out of the car and on your knees,” one of the elves said.

The Dwarves reluctantly did so. While the Dwarves were on their knees with their hands behind their heads, the elves searched for weapons. Fíli took the longest, though Thorin doubted even elves were willing to find where all of the young princess’ weapons were hidden. Thorin knew they spoke about Dís, but he did not know what they thought of his sister or her injuries.

The Elf by Bramble cut open the package. He said something and Bramble nodded.

The siren sounded again. Several elves on horseback surrounded the group. The Elf who appeared to be the leader jumped off the horse and stood by Bramble. He was noble and fair. His smile reminded Thorin of summer, much as he loathed to admit it.

“Welcome, Bramble, daughter of Belladonna and Bungo,” the Elf said, “It is truly an honor to meet you in person.”

“Please, Lord Elrond. Dís is badly hurt. She has been unconscious for about ten minutes, is bleeding, and has already had a seizure,” Bramble said.

Lord Elrond pulled the Hobbit to her feet. “I will take care of your friend immediately.” He turned to the elves. “Get one of the stretchers here. Do not leave our Dwarf guests on their knees.”

The elves pulled the Dwarves to their feet and the three were allowed to come near Bramble and Dís. Lord Elrond examined Dís’ head as he spoke to Thorin. “We will move as swiftly as we can, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór. Your sister will receive the best care we can offer.”

The stretcher arrived. The elves placed a brace around Dís’ neck. Bramble pushed the Dwarves away from the car to allow the medics to remove Dís and put her on the stretcher.

“What was so important in the package, Baggins?” Thorin said.

“It is proof I am a friend of Lord Elrond,” Bramble said. She smiled slightly. “He let me borrow some of his books for my dissertation and I have been meaning to give it back to him.”

“Will Amad be okay?” Kíli asked.

“Your Mother will heal, here,” Lord Elrond said as he directed the medics to take Dís away.

“That didn’t answer his question,” Fíli said darkly.

Chapter Text

Fíli followed her Mother until the elves said they could go no further. One of the elves led the three Dwarves and the Hobbit to a sitting room with a half-bathroom attached. The Elf said blood from the family would have to be donated if they matched Dís’ blood. Both of the children were a match and would soon be fetched to have their blood drawn. If more blood was needed, they could take from Thorin as he was O-negative.

Bramble sunk to the floor and leaned against a wall. Her entire body shook.

Fíli knelt down next to the Hobbit. “Professor? What’s wrong?”

“I… I’m fine. Go… go wash up,” Bramble said.

“Are you hurt?” Fíli said.

Bramble shook her head. “No. Please. I’m fine. Your Mom would want you to be clean.”

Thorin sat next to Bramble. “She’s right. Do you want your Mother to be upset with you when she wakes up? Fíli, Kíli, go. I’ll stay with the Hobbit.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Thorin put his leather jacket around Bramble. “What’s the matter, burglar?”

Bramble shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Thorin was quiet for a moment. “Just because Dís and Gandalf are hurt does not mean you are not allowed to have problems as well.”

The Hobbit lifted her hands slightly. “I… they were going to kill us. I know. I just…” She covered her eyes. “They were Elves once. It wasn’t their fault they are the way they are. They were tortured and mutilated. They should have never gone through it. They’re sick. They are so sick and they will never recover and I… I murdered one of them. They should be pitied and I killed them because I was scared.”

“Now listen to me right now; you have nothing to be ashamed of. It does not matter if someone is sick or not. If they are trying to hurt you, you find any way to get away from them, even if it means killing them when they are trying to kill you. Even if the person dearest to you tries to harm you, you get out.”

Bramble pulled her legs up against her chest. “I’m sorry. I’m acting childish.”

“You’re right. You are,” Thorin said, “But in this case, childishness is what is right. If you felt nothing or even pleasure after your first kill, than we would have much bigger problems to deal with.” He patted her back. “Let’s get you cleaned up, Baggins. It will make you feel more like yourself. I promise. We’ll see if these blasted Elves have any food for us.”

“Tea and scones?” Bramble asked hopefully.

“I will find you tea and scones if they have them, yes,” Thorin said as he tried not to smile.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

After Dís’ children donated blood, the Elves served a full afternoon tea. Bramble seemed more at ease once she was given her tea and scones.

“I thought you said you weren’t an Elf-friend,” Kíli said as he munched on an egg salad sandwich.

“Don’t talk with your mouthful. I’m not an Elf-friend. My Mother was,” Bramble said, “Elf-friend is a title meaning you are welcomed and protected by all Elves. I talk with Lord Elrond over Skype about stories since he was there for a lot of it. He was there even for the Destruction of the Ring of Sauron.”

“You said those books are Lord Elrond’s,” Fíli said.

“Yes. They are parts of Dwarvish history the Elves have put down. He sent them to me and I was going to mail them back before the Company stomped into my home,” Bramble said.

“And so having those books proved you were at least on book exchanging terms with the boss,” Kíli said.

“Hey, I am more willing to let a bunch of people I don’t know raid my pantries and sleep in my house than let any of my cousins borrow my signed copy of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead,” Bramble said.

“Who and who are dead?” Fíli and Kíli said at the same time.

Before Bramble could answer, Thorin said, “They are minor characters in Hamlet who are killed off for no real reason in the play. In Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, it follows the plot of Hamlet only Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are the protagonists. They do not have any idea what is going on. They are so confused by all of the random events around them that they do not even know what their names are. It is a prime example of theater of the absurd and one of the more accessible ones for those new to the genre.”

The three stared at the king. He raised an eyebrow. “I am one hundred and ninety-five years old. I don’t spend all my time killing orcs or brooding.”

Kíli was about to question his uncle when the Company rushed into the room. There was confusion as everyone checked on how everyone else fared. The Company gave loving fussing and had many questions about Dís. Bofur was so happy to see Bramble he hugged her and twirled her around.

“OUR LITTLE HOBBIT LASS IS SAFE AND SOUND!” he said.

“Put me down! I am going to puke!” Bramble said.

Bofur put the Hobbit down. “Sorry, professor.”

Bramble tackled him to the ground and hugged him. “See what that feels like you jerk? I’m glad you’re okay too.”

“Should we ship them?” Fíli whispered to Kíli.

“Nah. Mom already has set her bet and I have better ways of wasting my money,” Kíli said.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

The Elves gave the Company a hearty stew, thick bread, and plenty of drink. Bifur also ate some of the flowers in the room. The group, for once, ate little. They had no news on Dís or Gandalf’s progress.

“Got any jacks?” Dori asked.

“Go fish,” Balin said.

“Got any aces?” Dwalin asked.

“Go fish,” Balin said.

“Do you have anything?” Bramble said.

“Not anything I am going to tell you,” Balin said.

Bombur (who was not playing the game) looked over Balin’s shoulder and laughed. “He’s not lying. Good grief. This is the most ridiculous game of Go Fish I have ever seen.”

Lord Elrond entered the room in scrubs which put Bramble off balance as she always pictured him in the Elven robes he wore during their Skype conversations or the armor he had on earlier in the day. The Company stood up. Thorin went up to the Lord of Imladris.

“Gandalf is well and complaining about his bed rest already,” Lord Elrond said, “The Lady Dís is healing and will continue to heal. She is, however, unconscious and for how long we do not know. Before you ask, yes, Thorin, Dís’ children and you may go and see her. Professor Baggins, Gandalf wishes to discuss how the Dwarves are doing.”

Thorin grumbled, “My thanks, master Elf.”

“You are welcome. Your company will be shown to their rooms and I shall take you to our patients,” Lord Elrond said.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Gandalf smiled broadly and snuffed out his pipe when Bramble entered his recovery room. “Ah, Bramble, I told you it was only a flesh wound. Nothing to worry about at all.”

“Lord Elrond says you are back to your grumpy old self,” Bramble said as she sat on the edge of Gandalf’s bed.

“I just thought I deserved a smoke after being shot. Was that too much to ask?”

“Yes, you silly old man. You don’t get to kill yourself slowly after being saved from a speeding bullet.”

Gandalf chuckled and took Bramble’s hand. “My dear Hobbit, I have lived one hundred lives of Men. A smoke will not kill me, but I shall avoid it to not disturb others. How are our Dwarves?”

“They’re all here. Lord Elrond says that Dís should get better.”

“How is the House of Durin taking her still being asleep?”

“They could be worse. Thorin even begrudgingly thanked Lord Elrond.”

Gandalf squeezed Bramble’s hand. “Did he indeed? I have heard he has always been fond of his younger siblings. He helped raise Fíli and Kíli after their father died, you know.”

“I guessed,” Bramble said.

“Now, to a more important matter: how are you?”

Bramble avoided looking the wizard in the eye. She shrugged.

“You did the right thing, Bramble.”

“Then why do I feel awful?”

“Because the right thing to do is often the most painful option.”

Lord Elrond entered with an Orc sword in his hand. “Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders. Something, or someone, has drawn them near.”

“Ah, that may have been us,” Gandalf said. He patted Bramble’s hand. “If you will excuse us, Bramble. You are tired, I’m sure.”

Bramble nodded her consent, but was rather annoyed for being shooed out.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Fíli and Kíli had already fallen asleep by nine o’clock. They rested partially on their Mother’s sick bed while each held one of her hands. Thorin was still awake. His feet rested against a small table near Dís’ head.

Thorin did not see any pain on his sister’s face, though he wondered how much medication the Elves had given her. Dis’ head was wrapped in bandages. She had light scratches on her face, neck, and arms from the shattered glass of the car.

There was a soft knock at the partially open door. “Can I come in?” Bramble asked.

“You may, Baggins.”

Thorin jumped when the Hobbit spoke again just behind him. He did not even hear her steps. “How is she doing?”

“She is the same as when the Elf spoke with us,” Thorin said.

Bramble gave Thorin a mug of herbal tea. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to stay awake or sleep, so I got some mint to settle your stomach.”

“My stomach is fine.” He took the tea anyway.

“You didn’t eat anything and you’re worried.” Bramble knelt next to Thorin. “I know. I didn’t eat much when my father had his worse days.”

“And I know you eat a lot. You can keep up with everyone but Bombur, Dwalin, and Kíli.” He glanced over at Bramble’s feet. “And where are your shoes? Do you have a personal vendetta against shoes?”

“They are… confining. I feel better when I can feel the earth beneath me. Some say Yavanna created us Hobbits. It’s why we prefer living in holes in the ground, why we need space to move, and why we love food. They are gifts from our creator. At least, it’s what some say. No one quite knows where Hobbits came from, not even the Elves.”

Thorin gave a half-smile. “Yavanna is the wife of Mahal, creator of…”

Bramble finished, “…the Dwarves. I know. It was the first tale of the Dwarves I ever heard. I like it better than the creation of the Elves.”

Thorin smiled proudly. “As you should.”

They sat in comfortable silence for some time. Thorin drank the tea hoping to keep the Bramble’s scent of lilacs from clouding his thoughts.

Thorin said, “Get some sleep, burglar. You will be training tomorrow with your sword.”

“Sleep sounds wonderful,” Bramble said, “You should get some yourself.” She passed him a piece of paper, their hands touching for an instant. “This is so the three of you can find the rest of the Company. Good night.”

“Good night, Baggins.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Dwalin awoke the next day and immediately went to check on the Line of Durin. Fíli and Kíli still slept, but Thorin had stayed awake to keep watch.

“The burglar needs sword training,” Thorin said, “Make sure she doesn’t stab anyone.”

Dwalin was not surprised by the request. He was surprised later that day, however, to see the professor was not completely hopeless. He viewed the Hobbit as a soft creature and he was well aware of her abhorrence to fighting of any kind. However, the Dwarf warrior reconsidered Bramble after she had kicked his legs, his groin, and knocked his sword out of his hands before she climbing up a tree and out of his reach.

“She’s faster than a rabbit,” Bombur said.

“And climbs higher than a squirrel,” Bofur added.

“And kicks like a donkey,” Dwalin groaned.

The rest of the company laughed at Dwalin’s pain except for Bifur. He did not pay attention as he ate a salad made of various flowers such as Nasturtium petals. Bramble had asked the elves to make for him. She worried he might accidentally eat a flower which was poisonous and Bifur was grateful for the tasty meal.

There was a blur of someone running in the garden they had been training in. It climbed up the tree Bramble was hiding in. “BAGGINS!” Estel shouted.

Bramble pulled him up to the branch she was sitting on. “Estel! What are you doing here?”

“This is my home. We stay with Uncle Elrond,” Estel said.

“Uncle Elrond?” the Dwarves said.

Estel nodded. “Yep. He’s been like a dad to me almost all my life. He’s a distant cousin or something. Anyway, Mom and I live here, in the Last Homely House of the Cumberland Gap. Do you know why it is called that?”

Dwalin was able to stand and look up to see Bramble smiling at the boy. The Hobbit said, “I might, but I want to hear you tell it.”

Estel became vivid in his storytelling. He almost fell out of the tree several times if not for Bramble’s steady hand on him. “You see, Uncle Elrond had a wife and she got badly hurt, so she went to the Undying Lands. As long as you sail west and desire to go to the Undying Lands, you will go there instead of here if the Valar will it. Uncle Elrond wanted to be closer to her until his own time came and so he moved here. At the time, this was as far west as anyone from the East had ever gone. He offered rest and healing to anyone who tried to go further west. Uncle Elrond stayed, even after that Ranger, Daniel Boone, ‘discovered’ the Cumberland Gap. He didn’t discover it. People had been living here long before the Men of the East decided to investigate this continent. Boone was an arrogant ignor... ignor…”

“Ignoramus?” Balin offered.

“Ignoramus! That’s it! That’s what Gandalf called him!” Estel said, “Are you all practicing with your swords?”

“Indeed, we are. The professor does not know how to use one,” Balin said.

“I can help! I’ve been training!” Estel said.

“Fetch your sword, laddie,” Dwalin said.

Estel climbed easily out of the tree. “It’s going to be brilliant to have Dwarves here! I just know it!”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Dís heard someone singing to her in Khuzdul an old lullaby. “Nadad?” she mumbled without opening her eyes.

“Here, namad,” Thorin said.

“Fíli and Kíli?” Dís asked.

“Safe. Eating with the Company,” Thorin said.

Dís cracked open her eyes. Bright daylight lit the room due to the large, open windows. Smooth, white stone made the walls. Her brother sat in a delicate wooden chair by her bed. Thorin had dark circles under his eyes and there was some Orc blood stained on his shirt and jeans.

“What happened? We were driving a little bit ago.”

“The SUV was struck by a pick-up and you were knocked unconscious for about a day. You had a seizure and lost blood.”

“Everyone okay? Did anyone get hurt because of me?”

“No. Gandalf got shot, but it was not related to your accident.” Thorin placed a hand on Dís’ shoulder. “Don’t do it again.”

“I’ll try not to,” Dís said.

Lord Elrond entered the room. He bowed his head. “Welcome to Rivendell, Dís, daughter of Thráin. I am Lord Elrond. I am here to check on your progress.”

Dís looked over at Thorin and said in Khuzdul, “Can we trust the tree hugger?”

“I trust him with those who need healing, but not for counsel for Elves will say both yes and no, though in this case it will most likely just be no,” Thorin replied also in Khuzdul.

Dís nodded her consent to Lord Elrond. The Elf examined Dís and told her in no uncertain terms that she may have another seizure up to ten years after the accident. Because they did not know how or when the seizure would happen, Dís would have to stop driving among other things. (“I would tell you to avoid battle, but I know it is a lost cause.”) Lord Elrond pronounced Dís well on her way to healing and could try to walk the next day.

“I knew Thrór when he ruled under the Mountain,” Lord Elrond said.

“Indeed; he made no mention of you,” Dís said as she smiled sweetly.

Elrond nodded his head, acknowledging the slight but deciding not to do anything about it. “I suppose he would not speak of a ‘tree hugger’. I will inform your Company of your being awake.”

When the Elf had left, Dís said to Thorin, “Nadad, if you do not get some sleep, I will make your life miserable. I don’t know how, but I will.”

Thorin chuckled. “I do not doubt it.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Over the next three days, at least one of the company watched Dís at any given moment. She walked some each day, eventually being able to watch Bramble’s training in swordsmanship. The Hobbit had good footwork, but always seemed surprised every time her practice sword clashed with another sword or a person.

“She is not fit for this quest. She is too timid,” Thorin told Dís from where they sat.

“So is Ori,” Dís said.

“Ori is a scribe and she had no issues with battle,” Thorin said, “The Hobbit is scared of the noise alone.”

“Ori has been in a battle before. Honestly, did you see the town where the professor lived? I passed by a ‘party’ coming to her house and they barely made any noise, even with fireworks,” Dís said, “Give the professor time, nadad. She distracted the trolls, killed an Orc, and got me here. I think she does well under pressure.”

Thorin huffed, but did not continue to argue.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

That night, Dís was considered well enough to sit up for a banquet. She sat with Lord Elrond, Gandalf, Thorin, and Bramble while the rest of the Company sat nearby. Despite popular belief, there were many kinds of food there and not just green things like Dís imagined Elves to eat. For some reason, it was decided dinner was the perfect time to show off the swords they had found in the troll cave. Sharp objects being passed between two races known to kill each other regularly was, of course, a brilliant idea.

Lord Elrond examined Thorin’s sword first. “This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver. A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin. May it serve you well.”

Thorin nodded as he took the sword back. Dís would consent it was a fine sword, even though it was Elvish.

Gandalf handed his sword to Lord Elrond. The Elf’s face lit up in wonder. “And this is Glamdring, the Foe-hammer, sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for the goblin wars of the First Age.”

Dís looked over at Bramble and remembered Gandalf had given the Hobbit a short sword. “Professor, don’t you have one as well?”

Bramble looked deeply embarrassed. “I’m not… it’s…”

“Professor,” Lord Elrond said as he held out his hand.

With reluctance, Bramble handed over her blade. Lord Elrond said, “I would say this knife has not seen battle. I would say it is a kin to Orcrist. From the First Age, yes, but not one from tales.”

“I guessed. Thank you for your time,” Bramble said quietly.

“You’ll just have to have a reason to have the sword named,” Dís said cheerfully.

“As long as it’s not Minty,” Bramble said as she cast a glance at Thorin. He almost choked on the wine he was drinking.

“How did you come by these?” Lord Elrond asked.

“We found them in a troll hoard on 25 East, shortly before we were ambushed by orcs,” Gandalf asked.

“And what were you doing on 25 East?” Lord Elrond asked Thorin.

Dís waved a hand by her face. “Nadad dearest, I am not feeling as well. Can you help me back to my room?” Dís said.

“Of course,” Thorin said. He escorted her out of the banqueting room and to a waiting wheel chair.

“The Elf really thinks you are just going to tell him? In public? Where anyone can hear?” Dís asked as Thorin took her back to her room.

“He is lord of this realm and an Elf. Pride is to be expected,” Thorin said.

“You of course don’t know a thing about pride,” Dís said dryly.

“I am your humble servant, Dís,” Thorin said just as dryly.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

When Thorin returned, Bofur was singing on top of a stone table a Dwarvish drinking song, quite out of sorts with the soft music the elves had played earlier. The Dwarves sang and stamped along. Gandalf seemed amused (as the blasted wizard almost always did). Their host seemed more confused than upset. Thorin tried to find the Hobbit before he realized she had hidden under the table they had been dining at.

Chapter Text

The Company returned to the sitting area near their rooms. There were several instruments in the room the elves had allowed the Dwarves to borrow in lieu of coming to the Hall of Fire. Bramble had her head buried under a pillow while lying beside the couch where Bofur, Bifur, and Nori lounged. She could have sworn her entire body was being consumed by embarrassment.

“I don’t understand why you’re so mortified,” Glóin said.

“It wasn’t the time for drinking songs,” Bramble said.

“We were drinking. We were getting bored. Of course it was the time for drinking,” Bofur said.

“You ain’t tryin’ to kiss up to those snooty elves, are you?” Nori asked.

“Are you embarrassed by us?” Ori asked.

“No! It was the middle of a nice dinner! I have a problem with the timing, not the activity and not of all of you!” Bramble said.

“Alright. Show us!” Bomber said.

“What?” Bramble said.

“Yes, professor! Show us you know a song or too,” Bofur said.

Bramble glared at the group and huffed. “Fine. Just give me a moment. I need proper attire for this.”

The group hollered with laughter at what seemed to be Bramble’s vanity. Bramble rushed back to her room and changed into the party dress she had brought with her. She let her hair hang loose.

The Hobbit was about to enter the sitting room again when she heard an awful twanging noise. “Fíli! Stop that!” Thorin said, “Just because you can play the fiddle doesn’t mean you can play any stringed instrument.”

For a moment, Bramble could hear a guitar being tuned. Thorin strummed on the guitar and played a bit of a melody which made Bramble want to sway gently. He cut off the song immediately.

“Poor instrument. Don’t be so careless next time,” Thorin said.

“Sorry, idad,” Fíli said.

The group was quiet. Too quiet. Bramble began to sing outside the cracked opened door.

“There is an inn, a merry old inn/beneath an old grey hill,/And there they brew a beer so brown/That the Man in the Moon himself came down/One night to drink his fill.”

Bramble entered the room in her bright red dress with a dark blue sash. She stomped her feet to the beat of the song.

“The ostler has a tipsy cat/that plays a five-stringed fiddle;/And up and down he runs his bow,/Now squeaking high, now purring low,/Now sawing in the middle.”

She moved around the room to the Dwarves encouragement (sans Thorin as always). The Company stomped their feet to the song.

“The landlord keeps a little dog/that is mighty fond of jokes;/When there's good cheer among the guests,/He cocks an ear at all the jests/And laughs until he chokes.”

The Dwarves cheered and clapped.

“They also keep a horned cow/as proud as any queen;/But music turns her head like ale,/And makes her wave her tufted tail/and dance upon the green.”

Bramble pulled the Dwarves to their feet.

“And O! the rows of silver dishes/and the store of silver spoons!/For Sunday there's a special pair,/And these they polish up with care/on Saturday afternoons.”

“The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,/and the cat began to wail;/A dish and a spoon on the table danced,/The cow in the garden madly pranced,/and the little dog chased his tail.”

Fíli and Kíli took up their fiddles and played a basic beat to go with the song.

“The Man in the Moon took another mug,/and then rolled beneath his chair;/And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,/Till in the sky the stars were pale,/and dawn was in the air.”

“Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:/'The white horses of the Moon,/They neigh and champ their silver bits;/But their master's been and drowned his wits,/and the Sun'll be rising soon!'”

“So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,/a jig that would wake the dead:/He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,/While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:/'It's after three!' he said.”

Bofur twirled Bramble as she continued to sing.

“They rolled the Man slowly up the hill/and bundled him into the Moon,/While his horses galloped up in rear,/And the cow came capering like a deer,/and a dish ran up with the spoon.”

“Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;/the dog began to roar,/The cow and the horses stood on their heads;/The guests all bounded from their beds/and danced upon the floor.”

“With a ping and a pong the fiddle-strings broke!/the cow jumped over the Moon,/And the little dog laughed to see such fun,/And the Saturday dish went off at a run/with the silver Sunday spoon.”

Bramble pulled away from Bofur because he was going too fast for her to keep singing as well. She tried to slow down, but she kept spinning and singing.

“The round Moon rolled behind the hill/as the Sun raised up her head./She hardly believed her fiery eyes;/For though it was day, to her surprise/they all went back to bed!”

Bramble tumbled onto what she hoped was an empty chair, but instead landed hard on Thorin’s lap. Thorin let out an “oof” and glared at her. Bramble put a hand on his chest to steady herself.

“Sorry. Dizzy. One sec.”

She pushed off him and landed on the floor with a thump. The Dwarves cheered.

“The lass can sing!” Dori shouted.

“And what a fancy dancer she is!” Bofur said as he picked her up and spun her around again.

“I’m going to be sick, Bofur!” Bramble said as she smacked his back.

When Bofur put Bramble down, Thorin was gone. The Hobbit barely had time to notice as she was pulled into another dance. The Company had a merry time until it was almost dawn, singing and dancing to many a tune.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Dís looked up from the car manual she was going over when Thorin entered her room. “I told you, Thorin, I am good with a night on my own.”

“I know,” Thorin said as he sat down. He put his feet up on the table by Dís’ chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Are you just going to sit here all night and brood?” Dís said.

“Hmmm.”

“Oh, this is your ‘I am thinking’ brooding, not your ‘I am an awful person’ brooding. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. The Company is happy. I am just thinking of… old times.”

“Like what?” Dís put away the manual and lay on her side to watch Thorin.

“Dancing. Singing. Playing my harp. You dancing with your dolls.” He smiled slightly. “You would toss them up as high as you could so you could save them from the tower.”

“Good things,” Dís said.

Thorin hummed a happy tune Dís had not heard before. She had begun drifting asleep when Thorin said, “Skips make up most of the Hobbit’s dancing. Does she ever not skip?”

Dís opened one eye. “Can I official call you skipping obsessed?”

“She’s… Dwarves are made of stone. She is not. This quest will break her.”

Dís sat up. “You are right. She is not stone. She is easier to fix. You think I am too young to remember, but I know how hurt you were after your first kill for months. The professor is almost her normal self again after a few days.” Dís settled back down again. “Maybe I should send you home since you are so delicate.”

Thorin chuckled before continuing to hum his tune and even sang a bit of it. “The round Moon rolled behind the hill…”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Two days later, Dís had made a break for the garage where the cars were being repaired. The SUV was beyond saving, but the other cars were reparable. Dís admitted the elves had done a good job with finding the parts and replacing them, but she needed to make sure the vehicles were up to her standards. Thorin (who had been searching for her) was told he could either work on the Impala or be hit with a wrench.

It was while he was working on his car he heard a cheery voice say, “So, what’s the problem with Minty?”

Thorin banged his head against the hood of the engine.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” Bramble said.

Thorin rubbed his head. “Ow. I’m fine. Ow. Were you trying to sneak up on me?”

“No, I thought you heard me.” The Hobbit gave a grin. “I guess I am starting to get good at this burgling business.”

He grumbled in Khuzdul about sneaky Hobbits trying to give him a lump on his head as he went back to tuning his car.

“Actually, I came here to update you on my rummaging through Lord Elrond’s library on both the topics of Erebor and dragons.”

“What did you find?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing new which is odd.”

“Why?” Thorin asked. He stood up and watched Bramble as she looked around cautiously.

She whispered, “Imladris has one of the largest libraries in the world and I found nothing which is not general knowledge on those two topics. Several books appeared to be missing, but they could just be checked out or…”

“They have been hidden.”

“I think Lord Elrond knows of your quest and he is not happy you are hiding it from him. Elves like to think they are the smartest ones in the room, even those like Lord Elrond who try to help those who are mortal. You need to talk with him about your grandfather’s map or we may not receive any information from him.”

“I thought the elves said both yes and no when they gave counsel.”

“He has given us healing, food, shelter, good cheer, and parts for the cars. He does not want to truly harm this quest. But you haven’t asked for counsel. Elves are just as stubborn as Dwarves when they feel they have been slighted. I know of what happened with the king of the Woodland Realm down in Louisiana. Lord Elrond is not like his Woodland kin.”

Thorin said in a low tone, “Did Gandalf set you up to this?”

Bramble’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment. “No! I am not his spy. I am your burglar. It is my job to find out all I can about the burglary to keep you safe. Not Gandalf. Not the elves. Just you and the Company.” She poked his chest on the last four words. “Don’t listen to me. I’m going to go… do something. Please pretend I stormed off with dignity.” The Hobbit avoided stepping on oil drippings before leaving the garage entirely.

Something twisted in Thorin at her words, though what it was he did not know. All he knew was it hurt and he wanted it to stop.

Dís let out a low whistle. “I think you have yourself a loyal burglar there.”

Thorin growled and went back to fix the car, but not before he hit his head against the hood again.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

The leaves had begun to turn in the Cumberland Gap. Bramble was certain the beauty of autumn in full swing in Imladris would be her undoing. She might never leave. As it was, Bramble watched the setting sun over the Cumberland Gap and decided it was one of the most beautiful places she had ever been. The curve of the mountains, the denseness of the trees, the delicate architecture built into the mountains… all of it spoke of something beyond this world. The beauty of things there long before you and would remain long after your passing.

Her thoughts about the Dwarf king began to fade. Bramble was not sure why she was so upset Thorin did not trust her motives, but it did. It made her feel as though she had done something terribly wrong, when in fact she was only trying to protect the Company.

The Hobbit was so consumed with the view surrounding her and forgetting the day’s incident Bramble did not notice a woman enter the garden until she was standing next to Bramble. “May I join you?” the woman asked.

Bramble was certain she had never seen anyone as beautiful as the woman by her. She was tall and stood with the bearing of a noble lady. Her brown eyes were as keen as lances in the starlight, and yet profound, the wells of deep memory.

It was the smile, though, which made her beyond ordinary beauty. It was a soft smile which seemed to be born from a deep inner joy and love. The genuineness of it made Bramble want to know the woman better and learn what joy she had.

“Please, sit,” Bramble said.

“Thank you, Bramble Baggins,” the woman said as she sat down.

“How did you…”

“I know many things without asking… and Lord Elrond told me,” the woman said, “I am Lady Galadriel. I am visiting my son-in-law and grandsons.”

“And they are?” Bramble asked.

“Elrond and his sons,” Galadriel said.

Bramble’s jaw dropped. “No way! You’re too young!”

The Elf laughed and it made Bramble feel both silly and reassured. “Dear Hobbit, I am sure Mortal Men say the same about you.”

Bramble nodded. “Yes. Sorry.”

“There is no harm done.”

They sat in companionable silence as they watched the sun set over the mountains until only a little light was left peeking over the summits. The sound of Dwarves returning from their work to go inside for dinner broke the silence.

“I need to go, Lady Galadriel. My Company will wonder where I am,” Bramble said.

“Of course. Farewell, Bramble Baggins,” Galadriel said.

“Farewell, Lady Galadriel,” Bramble said as she stood.

“Oh, and do not tell Gandalf I am here. I do like to frazzle the wizard when I can,” Lady Galadriel said with a gleam of mischief in her eyes.

“I understand completely,” Bramble said.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

That night, Lord Elrond, Gandalf, Thorin, Balin, and Bramble met in the Rivendell library. Bramble stood slightly away from the group, unsure of why she was there.

“We did not come this way for leisure,” Thorin said, “Professor Baggins says this map is of high academic interest. It is the legacy of my people; it is mine to protect, as are its secrets. However, she says it most likely has moon runes and none of us know how to read it. She says you are the one to go to on such matters.” He looked over at Bramble. “I trust her advice.”

“I am intrigued. I will examine it,” Lord Elrond said.

Thorin took the map out of his jacket pocket and presented it to Lord Elrond. The Elf took out cloth gloves and removed the map from the bag and unfolded it.

“Erebor. What did you say is your interest in this map?” Lord Elrond asked.

“Academic,” the four others said.

Lord Elrond held up the map so the light of the moon could illuminate it. “Cirth Ithil. You are correct, Professor Baggins. Moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written.”

“Can you read them?” Thorin asked.

The Elf smiled. “I do believe I can.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Lord Elrond led them to an open area outside on the side of a cliff where waterfalls surrounded them. There was a large table made of crystal near the edge of the cliff.

“These runes were written on this autumn night by the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred years ago. It would seem you were meant to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield; the same moon shines upon us tonight,” Lord Elrond said. He placed the map on the table and let the moon light up the runes as the group crowded around him. “Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole.”

“The Dwarves’ new year? When the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together?” Bramble asked.

“Indeed it is,” Gandalf said.

“This is ill news. Fall is passing. Durin’s Day will soon be upon us,” Thorin said.

“We still have time to find the entrance,” Balin said, “We have to be standing at exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened.”

Lord Elrond folded up the map and put it back in the plastic bag. “So this is your purpose, to enter the Mountain.”

“What of it?” Thorin said gruffly.

“There are some who would not deem it wise,” Lord Elrond said as he gave Thorin back the map.

“Who do you mean?” Gandalf said.

“You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle-Earth,” Lord Elrond said.

The wizard followed the Elf leaving the two Dwarves and the Hobbit behind. Bramble said, “Did I just see… Gandalf taken away to the principal’s office?”

“The wizard has to answer to someone?” Balin said.

Thorin began to laugh. “I just… I know it is ill for the quest but… his face. Oh, I am so tired of being looked at as a poor pupil. To see him as the same…” He covered his mouth with his forearm to try to silence the laughter. “I must be exhausted. I am going to bed. We will leave as soon as we can. For now… hehe… his face.” Thorin walked away.

Balin smiled at Bramble. “It has been a long time since I have seen him laugh deeply. I am glad to hear it again.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Bramble was making her way back to her room when she overheard Gandalf and Lord Elrond talking across the way. They spoke too loudly if they did not want to be overheard by an inquisitive Hobbit.

“Of course I was going to tell you, I was waiting for this very chance. And really, I think you could trust that I know what I am doing,” Gandalf said.

“Do you? That dragon has slept for 60 years. What will happen if your plan should fail? If you wake that beast,” Lord Elrond said.

“But if we succeed. If the Dwarves take back the mountain, our defenses in the west will be strengthened,” Gandalf said.

“It is a dangerous move, Gandalf.”

“It is also dangerous to do nothing. The throne of Erebor is Thorin's birthright. What do you fear?”

“Have you forgotten? A strain of madness runs deep in that family. His Grandfather lost his mind; his Father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall? Gandalf, these decisions do not rest with us alone. It is not up to you or me to redraw the map of Arda.”

Bramble sighed as they walked out of hearing range. She ruffled her hair as she thought over what Lord Elrond said about the illness which ran through the Line of Durin. Bramble turned around and almost ran into Thorin. He leaned against the staircase with a look of agony in his eyes.

“Did you not know when you joined this quest?” Thorin asked.

“I was aware of your Father and Grandfather’s illnesses, yes,” Bramble said.

“And you joined anyway?”

Bramble nodded. Thorin turned away, but Bramble spoke again. “I am not my Mother. I may go on adventures, but I am not her. You love Erebor, just as your Father and Grandfather did. It does not mean you are them. We are to judge people by their own actions and not their forebears.”

Thorin turned back around. “And what do you think of me?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. The question you have to ask though is this: do you think this gold sickness will be an issue for you?” Bramble asked.

Thorin was silent as he gazed at the stream running through the garden. “If I told you I was not sure, would you lose hope for this quest?”

“I would trust you more if you told me.”

Thorin bent down and whispered in her ear, “I hope not, but I truly do not know. I will fight it with every part of my being”

He went to turn away, but Bramble grabbed his arm with both hands. “I will answer your question. You are proud and arrogant which will destroy you if you are not careful. You are grumpy and have high expectations on everyone. The last is also a positive trait as you believe in those no one else will because you see their heart and spirit. I think you are a good man who loves his family, both those who are here and those who are gone. I think you have too great a burden for one person to carry and a part of you has… broken or died because of it. I… I also have faith if anyone could complete this quest, it would be you. Thorin… I believe in you.”

The Dwarf king was silent as he examined his burglar. He gave a self-deprecating smile. “You have more faith in me than even I do, Bramble. Thank you. I am sorry for what I said earlier.”

Bramble squeezed his arm and let go. “I forgive you. Like I said, you have a great burden. Sometimes you will be a bit more paranoid than necessary, but I would rather have that than a leader who is careless. I will do my best to protect this Company. I do mean it.”

“And I will protect you,” Thorin said.

He was gone. It was not until she got back to her room Bramble realized it was the first time Thorin had called her by her first name.

Chapter Text

Bofur work Bramble an hour before dawn by shaking her. “Oye. Lass. Time to get up.”

“Why?” she mumbled as she shoved him away.

“We have to get out before we are stopped. Gandalf warned Thorin some folk might not take kindly to our quest. We are already working on getting the cars out,” Bofur said.

Bramble sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Food?”

“Later,” Bofur said. He began moving around the room and pulling out her things. He almost gave out a shriek when he found her underwear. “I’ll leave you to it. Fifteen minutes.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Bramble went barefoot as she left Rivendell. It was the odd in-between time when it was neither night nor day, where it was always too cold and too silent. The Dwarves had moved the cars out of the garage manually so they could put off alerting the elves to their leaving until the last moment.

“Balin, Fíli, Kíli, and Ori will be with me,” Thorin told the company in a hushed tone, “Put as much of the supplies you can into my vehicle and get yourselves into the van. Be on your guard. We have been hunted before and may be so again. We leave on my mark.”

The Company packed their last few things. Thorin picked up Bramble’s backpack. “Do you need anything from this, Baggins?”

Bramble nodded and took the backpack from him. She took out her phone, I-Pod, wallet, her father’s book, her mother’s pocket knife, and her document examination tools before giving the backpack to Thorin again. The Hobbit put the items in her large skirt pockets or into her jean pockets she wore under her brown skirt. He stuffed the backpack into the trunk and spoke quietly to her.

“Understand this, Hobbit, when I tell you to leave, you leave. When I tell you to run, you run. Either keep up or you will be left behind. I cannot risk this quest for the sake of one burglar.”

“I understand,” Bramble said, his words twisting in her.

“Get in the van.” He quietly closed the trunk of the Impala, “We have a long drive ahead of us.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Bramble wondered if each state they passed through would be more beautiful than the last. While Kentucky was a wilderness waiting to be explored, Tennessee reminded her of the Shire and the childhood adventures she had in the small forests near her home. It was a smoother ride, the sun was shining, and she had been fed so her first impressions of the state might have been biased. They crossed into North Carolina and it took Bramble a few minutes to realize the “hills” she saw were actually mountains.

“Why are we going through the east coast?” Bramble asked Dori.

“There are orc packs directly west of where we were. We are trying to go around them,” Dori said.

“Yeah, right into goblin country,” Nori mumbled.

“No back talking,” Dori said.

“You’re not my Mum!” Nori protested.

“I will pull this car over and smack you,” Dori said.

“Not my Mum and I can out run you any day,” Nori said.

“Ladies, please,” Dís said from the passenger seat.

The sisters glared at each other for a moment, but Dori went back to driving without further comment.

“Dwalin knows a Dwarf who owns a gun range in North Carolina near Mount Mitchell,” Dís said, “We all need practice. Thorin hates backtracking. Stubborn Dwarf. I want to hit him over the head one of these days, but his head would swell even more and he can barely get into the Impala with his ego now.”

The comment caused a roar of laughter from the car. The mood turned light again with stories and songs. In the back of her mind, Bramble was wary of going further south.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

The gun range Dís had mentioned was half outdoors and half in a basement. The Dwarf who owned the place did not even blink in surprise at how many weapons the Company brought. With how early in the morning it was, no one else was there.

“Alright, Dwalin, you’ll be working with the professor this morning. Make sure she doesn’t shoot anything but a target,” Thorin said, “The rest of you are to work on your marksmanship. At least one set of rounds for each gun you own. Except for Fíli, because you are more paranoid than I am and we do not want to have to wait around all day for you to practice with your twenty-one guns. “

“Was that a Green Day reference?” Fíli said.

Thorin resisted rolling his eyes. “Dís, your marksmanship is not as it was a few years ago. At least two rounds and I had better see almost nothing but bulls eyes.”

“Don’t be evasive about your opinions,” Dís said dryly. She readjusted the sniper rifle on her back. “Kíli, come on.”

“Baggins, don’t forget swordplay as well,” Thorin said, “Alright. Off with all of you. Don’t forget goggles and ear muffs.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Bramble was almost knocked off her feet when she fired Dwalin’s shotgun the first time. If she thought her handgun was powerful, she was in trouble with the larger guns.

Dwalin reassuringly patted her on the shoulder. “You’re doing wonderfully, lass.”

“Are they always like this?” Bramble asked.

“Some. You might need a smaller gun like some of the others carry,” Dwalin said, “However, there are none to spare so you should stick with the 9mm Thorin gave you.”

“What do you mean smaller?” Bramble said, “This is the smallest I’ve seen.”

“Fíli!” Dwalin said.

Fíli took two more shots from her sniper rifle before disarming her weapon and walking over to where Dwalin and Bramble stood. “Yes, sir?”

“The professor was wondering about smaller guns,” Dwalin said.

“Okay,” Fíli said. She pulled out two guns from under her arms hidden by her shirt. “.22. Not as much of a hit, but also not as much of a kickback. A bullet is a bullet. Bullets kill. Boom, boom, boom.”

Bramble gaped. “How many guns do you have? That makes five and there are your two knives.”

Fíli wriggled her eyebrows. “A girl has got to keep her secrets.”

“As I said before, Fíli is paranoid,” Thorin said, “Go help Nori, Fíli. She is getting nervous again. She still prefers knives to guns. Leave a gun with Baggins to practice with.”

“Yes, idad,” Fíli said.

Dwalin showed Bramble how to use Fíli’s .22. Guns still left Bramble nervous, but she felt more control over this size of weapon.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

“Oye! Lass!” Bofur said to Bramble as the Company packed to leave. “We got you a surprise.”

“What?” Bramble asked.

“Jump on the table, professor. You are going to become a fearsome Cinderella,” Bofur said.

Bramble sat on the picnic table. Bofur knelt and took off her right boot. He held up a .22. “Tada! Better for you and you can keep it hidden. Just going to strap it under your jeans.”

“Thank you,” Bramble said.

Bofur fitted the leg strap so the gun would rest a little below the top of the Hobbit’s boot. He slipped back on the shoe. “There we go, professor. You’re all set. Just give the other gun back to Thorin. He gets just as nervous as his niece if he doesn’t have an armory’s worth of weapons on him.”

“Once again, thank you,” Bramble said. She jumped down. “Where to next?”

“Georgia. Lots of peaches there I heard. We’re going to finish the Appalachian Mountains before going west,” Bofur said.

“Hmmmm… food,” Bramble groaned.

Thorin packed some of the rifles back in the Impala. Bramble tapped his shoulder and received a glare. She handed him the .9mm. “Um… here’s your gun back. Thanks for the loan.”

“A necessity,” he said gruffly before turning back to his work.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

They made a slight detour to the top of Mount Mitchell. It was the tallest mountain east of the Mississippi and none of the Company save Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, and Bifur had seen it.

“Why you feel the need to go so high, I will never know,” Bramble said as she clung to her seat as they made their way up the two lane road.

“You scared of heights, professor?” Bombur asked.

“I can climb trees better than most Hobbits, but this is the highest up I have ever been,” Bramble said, “What are with all these rain storms?”

“It’s just one storm,” Nori said, “We are going around the mountain. One side is having a storm while the other is sunny.”

Bramble looked at the rain in wonder. “It’s that big?”

The group laughed. “It’s not even that big of a mountain. Erebor is bigger,” Dís said.

“Bigger? I mean, I know academically there are bigger but, it’s so big and we are all so small compared to it,” Bramble said.

“Wait until you get to the top, professor,” Dwalin said, “You’ll feel your proper place in this world, trust me.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Thorin gave them a half hour to look around before going back onto the road. There was a tower to climb once they reached the peak of Mount Mitchell. Some families were visiting the area, but it was not overly crowded.

“Trust me, lass. You’ll want to see the view,” Balin said.

Bifur took Bramble’s arm and helped her to the top. Bramble was certain she was going to be sick until she saw the sunshine again and stepped onto the platform.

The sight was so beautiful Bramble forgot her fear of great heights. She ran around the top of the tower. “No one told me it would be so green! I didn’t know green could come that bright!”

“Wow!” Kíli said, “Look! You can see the storm passing over the mountains.”

Bramble made an unintelligible noise in agreement with Kíli. She stood on her toes and waved to Thorin and Balin from where they stood by the cars. Thorin nodded his head while Balin waved back.

“I haven’t felt like this in years,” Bramble said.

“Like what?” Fíli said.

“Small in all the right ways?” Dís added as she remembered their conversation in Bag-End.

Bramble nodded and smiled broadly. “Yes. Exactly.” She brushed some of her wayward wisps of hair away from her face and moved around the top of the tower again.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Eventually, Bramble did become nervous of heights once more and went back down to the cars to get her bearings. She leaned against the van next to Balin.

“Enjoy the view, professor?” Balin asked.

“It is truly beautiful,” Bramble said. She took out her father’s book and made a check mark on one of the pages.

“What is it?” Thorin asked.

“Hmm? Oh, this is A Guide to Northwestern Arda. It is a bit outdated since my father bought it when he was courting my mother,” Bramble said, “He wanted to travel with her and eventually me as much as he was physically able. We visited several local sites, but he was too sick to go far.”

“I thought Hobbits were not fond of traveling,” Thorin said.

Bramble nodded. “They aren’t, but Tooks like my mother are curious. My father thought it was brilliant all she knew and wanted to do and he wanted to be there for her, at least to make her second breakfast.” She smirked. “When he could still cook, those cinnamon rolls... Yum. And he always made sure even when he was sick she would have a beautiful garden and…” Bramble rubbed her eyes as she tried not cry. “Sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Balin said.

Bramble shook her head and rubbed her eyes harder. “You think the pain would eventually go away… But there are some things that time cannot mend... some hurts that go too deep... that have taken hold.”

Bofur waved to Bramble and she smiled again. “But that doesn’t mean you let it consume you,” Bramble said quietly before going to meet her friend.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Thorin rubbed his hand over his chest. He was feeling… odd. Aching inside. He wondered if he was becoming ill. “Baggins, switch with Ori. I’m sure her sisters miss her.”

Ori rolled her eyes, but Dori and Nori seemed pleased. Kíli sat behind his uncle, Fíli in the middle backseat, and Bramble behind Balin.

“Alright. Everyone, move out,” Thorin said.

Chapter Text

Bramble had expected the ride with Thorin to be quiet and serious. In reality, it was not as silly as the van, but it was certainly just as amusing.

Fíli and Kíli either fought or plotted together. Most of their conversations revolved around the fact Fíli was older, but shorter than Kíli. They would do Thorin impressions when they thought he would not notice, but Bramble knew from a few looks she shared with Thorin he was most certainly aware of the mocking. Balin would eventually tell of some embarrassing incident of someone of the House of Durin (usually Thorin and Dwalin before Smaug, though sometimes the taboo subject of Frerin would enter the conversation). The stories would cause Thorin to grumble and his sister’s children to laugh. Bramble’s I-Pod was put into use when they found out about her mix of “Back in Black” and “We Will Rock You”. It eventually evolved to Thorin doing a fantastic air guitar where he purposely let the car drift some to spook his niece and nephew.

It rained consistently once the Company was almost out of South Carolina. In Georgia, it became heavier and heavier until it was almost as bad as when they had been trying to leave Indiana. The thunderstorm shook the car with each roll of thunder.

“What is with this rain?” Bramble said mostly to herself as “Carry On My Wayward Son” by Kansas played.

“At least it isn’t snow,” Balin said.

“Don’t say that. We have had enough delays,” Thorin grumbled.

“Are we almost out of the Appalachians?” Kíli asked.

Thorin replied, “Nearly. Maybe an hour and then…”

A boulder the size of the Impala landed right in front of them. Thorin avoided hitting it, but spun out because of the rain, stopping when the car’s back wheels hung off a cliff. Another boulder came flying and nearly hit the tilting car.

“BY ALL THE DWARVES’ BEARDS!” Fíli and Kíli shouted at the same time.

Bramble clung to the car door and bit her lip until it began to bleed.

“Can you get this car back on the road?” Balin asked.

“No. Get them out,” Thorin said as he pulled on the emergency brake. Balin opened his door as did Thorin. The older Dwarf tossed out Thorin’s sword and oaken shield.

“The three of you are going to crawl out over us and we’ll get out after you,” Balin said calmly, “Fíli, you crawl up first and sit between us, but then Kíli, you are going to scramble up here while the professor switches to the middle.”

The van’s occupants tried to make their way over to the Impala, but rocks and boulders kept flying, blocking their way. Balin gaped as a bit further back from where they came, the rocks of the mountain began to move and stand. “Well bless me, the legends are true. Stone Giants!”

A rock the size of Kíli’s upper body landed on the hood of the Impala. “Move, now!” Thorin said.

Fíli threw herself forward to the front seat. Thorin put his arm around her shoulders reassuringly. “On the count of three, Kíli. One. Two. Three.”

Thorin pulled Fíli onto his lap as Kíli leapt forward onto Balin’s lap. Bramble put herself in the middle of the back seat. The car rocked back and forth for a moment before stilling.

“Next, you two are going to get out while the professor comes forward,” Balin said.

Fíli and Kíli jumped out instantaneously. Bramble was stunned for a moment before she felt Thorin grab her arm and helped haul her out the back seat. She found herself on Thorin’s lap with his arm tight around her waist.

Dori, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur held the front of the car. Dwalin was on Thorin’s side while Kíli waited to help Balin.

“On three?” Balin said.

The car tilted back more when another rock the size of Bramble’s arm landed on the trunk.

“No time. NOW!” Thorin shouted.

The last three passengers jumped out of the car. Thorin took most of the force of the fall. As the car crashed into the forest, Thorin covered Bramble partially with his own body. They both shook.

“Are you hurt, Bramble?” Thorin asked softly against her ear.

“No. You?” Bramble asked.

Thorin shook his head. He gave Bramble a brief squeeze around her waist before letting her go.

Dwalin pulled them to their feet. “We need to find shelter!”

“In the van!” Thorin commanded.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Thorin sat on the floor of the van. Bramble had been picked up by Bombur and fussed over by Bofur and Bifur. Dís sat with her children; she kissed the tops of their heads and fussed over how wet they were. It was cramped and jarring as Dori avoided the falling rocks until Dwalin pointed out a cave at the side of the road which had an overhanging which would protect the van.

Dwalin and Thorin got out and explored the cave.

“It looks safe enough,” Dwalin said.

“Search to the back; caves in mountains are seldom unoccupied,” Thorin said.

Dwalin pulled out a key chain flashlight and found the cave to not be very deep, but large enough for their needs. “There’s nothing here.”

Thorin went back to the van. “Everyone out. We are staying here until this Thunder Battle is over.”

After helping Dís out of the car, Thorin went to the trunk to look at what little was left. There were no weapons save for what the company wore, four sniper rifles, Orcrist, and his oaken shield. There were enough cans of beans for each of the Company to eat dinner. Besides a few bags of personal belongings, the rest of the supplies had fallen down the side of the mountain with the Impala.

Glóin rubbed her hands together. “Should I risk gettin’ firewood?”

Thorin shook his head. “No. No fires, not in this place. Get some sleep. We start at first light and we are getting out of this blasted state.”

“I thought the plan was to wait for Gandalf,” Balin whispered.

“Plans change,” Thorin said. Something was wrong about this part of the mountains and he wanted to get as far away from them as possible, wizard or no. “Bofur, take the first watch.”

“On it,” Bofur said. He began whistling “Georgian on My Mind”.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Thorin glanced over at his sister. Dís combed through Fíli’s hair with her fingers before putting it into a combination of two pigtails and a French braid. Kíli sat nearby, holding the hair ties Dís needed.

“I have a question,” Bramble asked Dís quietly, “It may be too personal or cross some sort of social taboo, so you can say no to answering it.”

“I won’t know until you ask,” Dís said.

“Um… I’ve seen a lot of pictures of Dwarves with intricately braided hair. I was wondering if there were… meanings behind it or something,” Bramble said.

“Hmmm… no more than other hairstyles, I suppose,” Dís said, “Spouses, family, or friends who basically are family may touch another’s hair. Beads represent status or relationships. If you have more complicated braids, it means you have the time to have your hair done for long periods of time. This is just to keep Fíli’s hair out of her eyes.”

“Okay. Just making sure,” Bramble said.

“They were more important when people wore their hair longer and beards were more popular, but now it is just a pleasant thing to do for those you love,” Dís said, “Also, it’s pretty.”

Bramble laughed. “A good enough reason as any.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Óin struck a match to light his cigarette when Bramble let out a squeak. “I have been smoking for about two centuries lass. I am not whipped like the wizard.”

“Not that,” Bramble said, her voice unusually high, “Ignore me.”

Bramble tapped her fingers against her leg and her eyes widened in fear.

Bofur said, “Professor, are you afraid of fire?”

Bramble squeaked again. “Why would you think that?”

“You know, her fireplace didn’t look like it had been used in a while,” Glóin said.

“She looked a bit twitchy or would disappear entirely when someone would go for a smoke,” Nori said.

“So, are you scared of fire?” Ori asked.

“I’m not! …much,” Bramble said.

Thorin growled, “Why are you going on a quest to steal from a dragon!”

“Because it’s the right thing to do!” Bramble said, “Besides, I don’t think Smaug would bother frying me. Too much effort. He would just eat me as an appetizer.”

Thorin cursed in Khuzdul about the stupidity of Hobbits.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Bombur and Glóin flanked Bramble when they went to sleep. She was freezing and there were not enough blankets to go around. Their body heat helped, but she could not sleep. Carefully, the Hobbit made her way towards the front of the cave towards where Bofur kept watch. Thorin slept sitting up and she hoped she did not disturb him. She rarely saw him sleep and when he did, he was never comfortable.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bofur asked.

Bramble rubbed her arms. “Can’t sleep. Wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine. You alright, lass?” Bofur asked.

Bramble shook her head. “No. I’m missing home and things keep going horribly wrong and… I need to go home. I don’t belong here, Bofur. I’m not a fighter and I’m not a Dwarf.”

“Exactly!” Bofur said, “We need different perspectives, professor. Why do you think I’m here? I’m not a great warrior, but I’m quick and I can make folks laugh sometimes.”

“You always make me laugh,” Bramble said.

“An honor it is to hear your laugh, my friend. I have done my job,” Bofur said.

“Baggins,” Thorin hissed, “Your sword.”

Bramble looked down and partially pulled out her sword. The weapon glowed blue.

The ground shook. There was the sound of machinery as a crack formed across the floor.

“Wake up. Wake up!” Thorin shouted.

It was too late. The floor opened up and the entire Company fell down and down and down. It was a demented version of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland when Alice fell down the rabbit hole. They banged into rock walls and each other. It finally ended when they landed in a giant wooden cage.

They struggled to stand up when a horde of goblins appeared. The creatures attacked the Company and stole their weapons. The goblins dragged the Company away and down deeper into the tunnels.

All except for Bramble. She had tried to stay down and make herself small. Somehow, she had been missed. When it had grown quiet, the Hobbit looked up and around. Bramble scrambled behind a railing to make sure none of the goblins were still there. Once she was alone, Bramble pulled out her gun.

“Okay. I’ve lost the wizard and I’ve lost the Dwarves,” Bramble said to herself as she moved forward warily, “Go back? No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!”

A goblin jumped Bramble. She tied to shoot it, but the goblin knocked away her gun. As she struggled against the goblin, they both fell over the edge of the platform and Bramble remembered nothing more.

Chapter Text

Nori sighed in relief. At least the Hobbit had not been caught after they had fallen. The rest of them were going to die horrible deaths, but at least the professor would be alright.

Hopefully.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

The tunnels were vast with many offshoots. For almost an hour, the goblins forced the Dwarves to go at a run. Finally, they were brought into a great cavern onto a large, wooden platform. At the very end was the Great Goblin: a creature made of fat, sweat, oil, warts, and all of the nastiest things in the world in a figure which stood almost ten feet tall. The weapons the goblins had already taken were placed at the Great Goblin’s feet.

The Great Goblin jumped off his throne and trampled over several goblins when he came to examine the group. “Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves? Assassins?”

“Dwarves, your Malevolence,” a goblin said.

“Dwarves?”

Thorin placed one hand on Kíli’s shoulder and the other on Fíli’s. They both looked ready to burst at the seams, unable to fight and unable to run.

“We found them on the front porch,” the goblin said.

The Great Goblin commanded, “Well, don’t just stand there; search them! Every crack, every crevice.”

The goblins pawed at their captives and ripped the Dwarves’ clothes. The Company became bruised and scratched from the treatment. The goblins tossed aside the more hidden weapons of the Dwarves.

“What are you doing in these parts? Speak!” the Great Goblin said.

The Dwarves were silent and glared defiantly at the beast.

The Great Goblin King laughed. “Well, if they will not talk, we’ll make them squawk! Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker! Start with the youngest.” He pointed at Kíli.

The goblins began to drag Kíli forward, but Thorin stepped out from the group. He made sure Dís, Fíli, and Kíli were behind him and less likely to be seen. “Wait,” he said.

The Great Goblin laughed again. “Well, well, well, look who it is. Thorin son of Thráin, son of Thrór; King under the Mountain.” He made an exaggerated bow. “Oh, but I’m forgetting, you don’t have a mountain, and you’re not a king, which makes you nobody, really.”

Thorin stiffened. How dare such a creature claim he was nothing? A very small part of him agreed with the goblin… but he swiftly killed the thought. He had no time for doubts.

“I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached.” The Great Goblin laughed at his own joke. “Perhaps you know of whom I speak, an old enemy of yours. A Pale Orc astride a White Warg.”

Thorin growled, “Azog the Defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle long ago.”

“So you think his defiling days are done, do you?” the Great Goblin said. He turned to a tiny goblin scribe. “Send word to the Pale Orc; tell him I have found his prize.”

The little goblin cackled as he slinked away with his message. Thorin found himself eye to eye with the Great Goblin again. “Now, I think the Mangler and Bone Breaker should certainly be brought out! It is a merry day indeed in Goblin Town!”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Dís would kill the Great Goblin. How dare he threaten her children? Lie to her brother about Azog the Defiler? The beast would receive no mercy from her. The only problem was how Dís would find a weapon to kill the creature.

The Great Goblin dance and sang as massive torture devices were brought to the platform (though Dís doubted they could be any worse than the Great Goblin’s voice). “Bones will be shattered, necks will be wrung!/You’ll be beaten and battered, from racks you’ll be hung./You will lie down here and never be found, down in the deep of Goblin-town.”

One of the goblins yelped in horror and threw down Orcrist. All of the other goblins screamed in fear and retreated from the sight of the weapon. The Great Goblin rushed back to his throne in terror and pointed at the weapon. “I know that sword! It is the Goblin-Cleaver, the Biter, the blade that sliced a thousand necks.”

Dís fell to the ground as a goblin beat her with a whip. The others struggled to remain standing as the goblins attacked.

“Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all! Cut off his head!” the Great Goblin screamed.

Two goblins dragged Thorin further from the group and forced onto his back, Dís yelled as she saw a goblin place its rusted sword against Thorin’s neck. She tried to crawl over to her brother, but a goblin grabbed her hair and yanked her back.

There was an explosion of bright light which caused all sound to become dull. Goblins were flung into the air. The torture devices were destroyed. Everyone was knocked off their feet, even the Great Goblin.

When Dís’ vision cleared, she saw Gandalf standing amongst them. “Take up arms. Fight. Fight!”

The Dwarves did so with great enthusiasm. Dís made her way over to Thorin as he knocked two goblins over the edge of the platform.

The Great Goblin screamed at Gandalf, “He wields the Foe-Hammer, the Beater, bright as daylight!”

The Dwarves reached their weapons and began killing goblins in droves. Dís dove for Orcrist, the weapon closest to her.

The Great Goblin swung his scepter at Nori, which the thief barely dodged.

Dís took the opportunity of the Great Goblin’s focus being elsewhere to take Orcrist and shove it into his gut. She pulled out the sword while black blood squirted out onto her. Dís cut the Great Goblin’s throat. His eyes became blurry and he fell to the ground. Dead.

“Do not touch my family,” Dís said.

The goblins screamed at the death of their leader. They were distracted enough that the Dwarves were able to kill several with no resistance. Dís joined the rest of the fray.

Gandalf shouted, “Follow me. Quick! Run!”

The Dwarves followed Gandalf off the platform and further into the mountain.

Thorin ran with Dís. “Not bad.”

“You were too slow,” Dís said.

Thorin casually took an ax from a goblin which tried to kill him as he ran. “I want the sword back.”

“Who said I was giving it back? It’s not like you were using it,” Dís teased as she cut off a goblin’s head.

Chapter Text

Bramble awoke to a dull pain in her right side. She rolled over onto her back and felt something soft and smushy. From the smell and texture, she guessed inedible (if not poisonous) mushrooms.

It was so dark in the cave Bramble could not even see her hand in front of her eyes. The cold sank into her bones and the darkness began eating at her. The air was wrong and she was certain she was going to suffocate. All Bramble wanted to do was curl up around herself and hide from the dark, claw at the fabric of reality itself to get away.

There was a quiet groan. Bramble saw the bright eyes of the goblin glowing in the dark. By the way the eyes were half-closed and how it did not move towards her, she guessed it was at least as injured as she was.

Another pair of eyes appeared just above the goblin’s eyes. It pulled the goblin away, gurgling “Gollum, Gollum”.

Bramble dared not move until the light of the creature’s eyes had disappeared. In a slow movement, she pulled herself up into a sitting position, wincing at the pain just below her ribs.

“Got to keep moving,” she said to herself.

Using the cave wall to help her, Bramble stood up. She pulled out her sword and saw it was still glowing blue. She used it to guide her path. There was no way out from the opposite direction of where the goblin and the creature went, so she had to follow them into the unknown.

The Hobbit did not know how long so walked. All she knew was that she had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Bramble had to get out. She had to survive. She had to find the Dwarves. She had to save them.

There was a strange voice singing in the distance. A few lanterns hung from the ceiling and connected to a generator which was about as large as Bramble. She could see the place was a cave with a still lake. In the middle of the lake was a creature. Maybe he had been a man once, but his skin was ashen and almost all of his hair had fallen out.

“The cold hard lands,/they bites our hands,/they gnaws our feet./The rocks and stones,/they’re like old bones,/all bare of meat./Cold as death,/they have no breath,/it’s good to eat!”

Bramble saw the creature raise a rock in his hand and smash something which sounded organic. Her sword stopped glowing.

The creature dragged the dead goblin into his boat and began paddling silently to shore, barely causing any ripples. He dragged the corpse to a small, but deep hole.

When he had disposed of the goblin, he stopped and turned his head towards Bramble. “Bless us and splash us, Precious! That’s a meaty mouthful.”

Bramble held up her sword. The creature hissed. “Aaahh. Gollum. Gollum. Ack”

“Back. Stay back. I’m warning you, don’t come any closer,” Bramble said as her voice shook.

“It’s got an Elfish blade, but it’s not an Elf. Not an Elf, no. What is it, Precious? What is it?” the creature asked, sounding just as scared as Bramble felt.

“I’m a Hobbit,” Bramble said, “A professor.”

“A professor?” the creature said.

“Yes. What are you?” Bramble said.

“We are… what are we?” the creature said. He sat down and Bramble realized he was wearing the most worn out jeans and plaid shirt she had ever seen. They were so covered in dirt and grime she had thought it was a part of his skin. “We are… I’m Sméagol. Gollum.”

Sméagol tried to approach Bramble, but she waved her sword in front of her. “Now, now, keep your distance! I’ll use this if I have to! I don’t want any trouble, do you understand? Just show me the way to get out of here, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Why? Is it lost?” Sméagol asked.

“Yes, and I want to get unlost as soon as possible,” Bramble said, “I have to find my friends.”

“Friends?” Sméagol asked.

“Yes, friends. People who you care about and who care for you back,” Bramble said.

“We had a friend once,” Sméagol said quietly. His mood shifted. “Ooh! We knows! We knows safe paths for Hobbitses. Safe paths in the dark.” His mood changed again. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Bramble said.

“Wasn’t talking to you,” Sméagol said to her. He continued speaking to himself. “But yes, we was, Precious, we was.”

“Look, I don’t know what your game is, but I…”

Sméagol jumped up and down in excitement. “Games? We love games, doesn’t we, Precious? Does it like games? Does it? Does it? Does it like to play?”

“Maybe?” Bramble said cautiously.

Sméagol recited a riddle. “What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees. Up, up, up it goes, and yet, never grows.”

It was not a hard riddle since the Hobbit literally stood in the answer. “The mountain.”

Sméagol laughed and jumped around. He grabbed a flashlight and turned it onto his face. “Yes, yes, oh, let’s have another one, eh? Yes, come on, do it again, do it – do it again. Ask us. No! No more riddles. Finish her off. Finish her now. Gollum! Gollum!”

“No! No, no, no. I want to play. I do. I want to play. I can see you are very good at this. So… why don’t we have a game of riddles? Yes, just you and me. The most ancient and sacred of games, huh?”

Bramble crouched down to Sméagol’s level and held up her hand as a sign of peace. Sméagol came up to her. “Yes! Yes, just, just—just us, professor.”

“Yes. And… and if I win, you show me the way out.”

“Yes. Yes! And if it loses? What then? Well, if it loses, Precious, we will kill it!” Sméagol laughed. “If professor loses, we kill it!”

Bramble bit her lower lip as she thought. “Fair enough.” She put away her sword and thought of a riddle.

“Well, professor first,” Sméagol said as he handed the Hobbit the flashlight.

Bramble said, “Thirty white horses on a red hill. First they champ, then they stamp, then they stand still.”

Sméagol thought about it for several moments. His made several funny faces as he thought it over. “Teeth?”

Bramble sighed and nodded. It was, indeed, the correct answer.

Sméagol laughed. “Teeth! Yes, my Precious. But we—we—we only have six.”

“Oh, dear. Indeed you do,” Bramble said.

Sméagol took back the flashlight, which they continued passing back and forth throughout the rest of the game. “Our turn. Voiceless it cries, wingless flutters, toothless bites, mouthless mutters.”

“Just a minute.” Bramble went over to the lake to think.

“Oh, oh! We knows. We knows! Shut up.”

Bramble smiled. “Wind. It’s wind! Of course it is.”

Sméagol snarled. “Very clever, Hobbitses, very clever.”

The game continued for several more riddles, neither having the upper hand in the game. From some of the riddles, Bramble guessed he had lived in the sunshine once and was not some kind of orc. The way he moved about her made it seem like Sméagol had been alone a long time and he was terrified of her. Besides saying he would kill her if she lost, Sméagol had not been threatening, just odd. Bramble had seen a Hobbit or two like Sméagol who were not completely of one mind. The ones she knew took medication and had friends to help keep the voices quiet, but it seemed Sméagol had neither. He was so happy to have someone there with him; her heart took pity on him.

“Ahh. We have one for you,” Sméagol said with a vicious smile, “This thing all things devours:/Birds, beasts, trees flowers;/Gnaws iron, bites steel;/Grinds hard stones to meal;/Slays king, ruins town./And beats high mountain down. Answer us.”

“Give me a moment, please, I gave you a good long while on the last one.” Bramble rubbed her face. She had heard nothing like the riddle before. She thought of all the horrible names of all the giants and ogres she had ever heard told of in tales, but not one of them had done all these things, not even Smaug.

“Will it break? Will it squeal? Will it bleed?”

Bramble waved her hands at Sméagol. “Let me think. Let me think.”

“It’s stuck. Professor is stuck.”

Bramble paced and tried not to panic.

“Time’s up,” Sméagol said.

Bramble stopped and smiled broadly. “Time! The answer is time. Actually, it wasn’t that hard. It makes perfect sense. What a wonderful riddle, Sméagol. You did a good job.”

Sméagol said quietly, “I did good?”

“Yes, Sméagol. You did good.”

“Last question,” Sméagol said, “Ask us. ASK US!”

“Yes, yes, alright. Just give me a second,” Bramble said.

Sméagol huffed. “I’m waiting.”

“Alright. A father and son are in a terrible car accident. The father dies and the son is in critical condition. When the son is brought into surgery, the surgeon says, ‘I can’t operate on him. He’s my son.’ How is that possible?”

Sméagol went quiet and still. Then he crawled. Then he scratched. And then he howled. “I DON’T KNOW!”

Bramble clapped her hands together. “So, come on. I won the game. You promised to show me the way out.”

“What is the answer?” Sméagol asked.

“When I get out, I’ll tell you,” Bramble said.

Sméagol huffed, but began his odd crawl/walk back from where Bramble came. “This way. Come on.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Up, up, up they went through twists and turns in the tunnels until Bramble was most definitely lost and dizzy. Finally, Sméagol stopped in front of a boulder which reached up to Bramble’s waist. He pulled her down to a crouch and pointed down the tunnel in front of them slightly to the left.

There was sunlight! Beautiful, glorious sunlight from down the tunnel. Bramble had never been so happy to see sunlight in her life.

She saw the goblins. They milled about and grumbled in their harsh language.

Bramble covered her mouth as she choked back a sob.

“What’s wrong? We shows you the way,” Sméagol said.

“I can’t get out,” Bramble said, “The goblins are there.”

“Oh, we never have that problem,” Sméagol said.

“You never run into goblins?” Bramble asked.

“No. We do. We do. They just don’t see us,” Sméagol said.

“How? Are you very quick?” Bramble said.

“No. Well, yes. They don’t see us,” Sméagol said.

Bramble blinked a few times. “They don’t see you? You can turn invisible?”

Sméagol nodded. He pulled out a silver ring with seven small sapphires inlaid in the band. He slipped it on his left pointer finger and almost entirely disappeared. There was a slight distortion where he had crouched down, but Bramble only could tell because she had just seen him. She would have thought it was a trick of the light or her eyes being tired otherwise.

“That’s amazing, Sméagol,” Bramble said, “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare, would you?”

Sméagol reappeared and shook his head. He cradled the ring in his hands. “It was our birthday present.”

“Ah. So it is very…”

“Precious. Very Precious.”

Bramble knew enough about magic rings to know there were not a lot of them (particularly after the destruction of the One Ring) and they were not to be used lightly. “How did you… who gave it to you, Sméagol?”

“We… it was our birthday present and…” Sméagol whimpered.

Bramble sighed and patted his shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll find another way out. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Sméagol stilled and looked up at Bramble. He held out the ring to Bramble. “Take it.”

“I thought…”

“Professor is our friend. Friends are people who you care about and who care for you back. Professor is our friend. We want her safe.”

“Oh, Sméagol.” And though he smelled, Bramble gave him a very brief hug. “I will try to find you again if I live through this.”

Sméagol dropped the ring in Bramble’s hand. “Be careful, friend.”

“I will, Sméagol,” Bramble said, “Oh, the riddle.”

“Yes?”

“The answers is: the surgeon is the boy’s mother.”

Sméagol slapped his head. “Oh! That is so obvious!”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Bramble wondered for a moment if the world had become an Impressionist painting once she had put the ring on her thumb. Her vision blurred, but basic outlines were visible. She could tell Sméagol was next to her and she could see the goblins around the door. The textures and details were missing and it made Bramble uneasy.

The Hobbit jumped over the boulder and found her sense of touch still functioned correctly as did her senses of hearing and smell. The pain in her right side flared up again, but she pushed through it.

The rain boots made her movements not as smooth as they normally were, but she was able to not alert the goblins to her presence by any noise. Bramble stopped and took a deep breath just next to where the goblins stood.

She ran out of the mountain into the fresh air and the sunlight. Bramble continued running as she heard the goblins fighting over whether they saw something move or not. They did not follow her and for that, Bramble was overjoyed.

Until she realized she had no idea where she was or where the Dwarves were. Then she felt sick.

Chapter Text

Gandalf had counted fourteen Dwarves when they had run far enough from the mountain to be able to stop for a moment. He counted again. And a third time just to be sure. “Where’s Bramble? Where is our Hobbit?”

“Now she’s lost?” Dwalin said.

“I thought the professor was with Dori!” Glóin said.

“Don’t blame me!” Dori replied.

“Well, where did you last see her?” Gandalf said.

“I think I saw her slip away when they first collared us,” Nori said.

“What happened exactly? Tell me!” Gandalf said. His heart twisted. How could he let the Hobbit be separated from the group?

Thorin said quietly, “I’ll tell you what happened. Baggins saw her chance and she took it. She was talking last night about missing home and how she shouldn’t be here. We will not be seeing our Hobbit again. She is long gone.” His attempt at malic towards the Hobbit failed utterly and his despair seeped into his voice.

Gandalf felt something slam into him, almost knocking him off his feet. He turned around. The ground did not look right for some reason.

“DON’T SHOOT ME!” Bramble shouted as she took off a ring to make herself visible again. She held it with the thumb and pointer finger of her left hand.

“Bramble Baggins! I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life!” Gandalf said.

The Dwarves had a barrage of questions as they asked about how Bramble had escaped and how she could become invisible. Thorin shouted over them, “SHUT UP! Burglar. Explain. Now.”

Bramble said in one breath, “I fell off a cliff with a goblin, got lost, met this guy who lives in the mountain who probably has some sort of multiple personality disorder but I’m not a psychologist so I can’t tell, we played a game of riddles, he led me out, and he gave me this magic ring which sort of turns me invisible because we’re now buddies apparently.” She took another breath. “Please don’t shoot me.”

Thorin sighed and pulled Bramble to her feet. “Why did you come back, burglar?” He did not release her arm.

Bramble made no move to let Thorin go either. “Look, I know I am not qualified for any of this mission, quest, thing. Yes, I’m homesick. I miss my books. And my armchair. And my garden. Bag-End has been my home my entire life. That’s why I came back, because you don’t have one: a home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can.”

The Dwarves seemed moved by this and they thought over the Hobbit’s words quietly. Gandalf proudly smiled at Bramble, the Bramble he knew cared so deeply for the world and its inhabitants and not things. It was a beautiful moment to end a harrowing day.

This of course meant they immediately heard wargs howling in the distance.

Thorin dropped Bramble’s arm. “Out of the frying pan...”

“...and into the fire!” Gandalf completed, “RUN!”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Dori was certain she had never run so fast in her entire life. Night had descended upon them. The wargs kept getting closer and closer. The only reassurance she had was if the pack did catch them, Dori would go down before Ori and Nori did.

A warg leaped over Dori. Before the Dwarf could react, Bramble had her sword out. The way the warg moved made it run directly into the Hobbit’s sword.

“UP INTO THE TREES!” Gandalf said.

No one had to be told twice as there was a mad scramble to get up the pine trees. Bifur killed a warg which came too close. Dwalin helped his brother up the tree, but the rest seemed to be able to climb up on their own once they had killed the wargs closest to them. Bramble was the last one up as her sword had been stuck in the warg’s head and it needed to be pried out of the skull with some effort.

They were all up in the trees just as the wargs began trying to climb up after them. The beasts ripped at the branches below the Company, turning whatever wood they touched into splinters. But they could not climb. They could not make their way to the Company.

Dori saw something tall and white coming from the trees.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Dís heard the gasps before she saw the orc. The look of despair and shock on her brother’s face told her who it was before she even turned.

Albinos at least had a bit of pinkness about them: a sign of health. This creature was the same color as a frozen corpse. It had a metal claw shoved through its left arm instead of a hand. It smiled and petted its white warg.

“Azog?” Thorin said.

The Defiler spoke to the warg in its dark speech. The only words Dís understood were her brother and father’s names. The winds of winter coursed through Dís’ veins. She had thought the Great Goblin was unnatural and evil, but this… thing. It was not random. It was not swayed from its goal. It had one purpose and one purpose only: to destroy the Line of Durin.

“It cannot be,” Thorin whispered.

Azog shouted a command and the wargs began attacking the trees again. The weight of the wargs working together caused the trees to begin to tilt back.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

The trees crashed backwards. The Company all began jumping from one tree into the next until all sixteen clung to a pine tree at the edge of a cliff. The final tree stood firm and did not tumble over the edge.

Azog’s laughter clawed at Thorin. The Dwarf should have never heard it ever again. He had cut off Azog’s hand and saw the orc bleeding out. Thorin should have cut off the orc’s head along with the limb just to make sure the job was done.

He had failed the Line of Durin.

A pinecone which was on fire fell into Thorin’s hand, breaking his guilty thoughts. “Throw it!” Dís said.

Thorin’s mind shifted at the sound of his sister’s voice. He no longer despaired and instead embraced his wrath. He would not let the abomination hurt another member of his family.

They had no long ranged weapons as they used the last of their bullets in the mountain. All Thorin could use was this little bit of fire in his hands. He and the rest of the Company (sans Bramble) hurled the wizard’s fireballs at the wargs and orcs.

The hunting party was driven back. The Dwarves cheered. They might escape yet!

The tree buckled under the weight of the Company.

It tipped over until it lay completely on its side. The Company dangled over the edge. Ori hung onto Dori’s leg. The weight caused Dori to slip and she would have fallen if Gandalf had not grabbed for her hands. Everyone scrambled to get to their feet.

Thorin had fallen on top of the tree and did not dangle off the cliff. He looked up and saw Azog growling and pointing his mace at where Fíli, Kíli, and Dís all tried to cling to the tree. Thorin remembered the sight of his Grandfather’s head rolling towards him while his Father screamed.

There was only one thing to do: he had to kill Azog before the rest of his family was murdered.

Thorin stood to his feet and held up his ax. He ran. The flames and smoke were no obstacle to Thorin. He had faced worse and he would face worse again.

The white warg leaped as Thorin was about to strike Azog. It hit Thorin in the chest with its forepaw, smashing Thorin to the ground.

The King Under the Mountain could hear his people scream. Thorin could not bear the sound. He had to save them. Thorin tried to get up, but his chest hurt from the hit and caused him to slow down.

The white warg turned around and charged Thorin. Azog hit Thorin in the chest with his mace. The Dwarf was flung to the ground again and he heard cracking he assumed to be his bones.

Azog let out a roar of triumph. The white warg clamped its giant jaws around Thorin. The Dwarf screamed in agony as he felt the teeth pierce flesh and break bone.

Thorin hit the warg with his ax, causing it to let him go. The warg threw Thorin several feet and caused him to land heavily against a boulder. Thorin’s head cracked and his lungs lost what little air remained in them.

Azog laughed and said something in the language of Orcs. Thorin did not need a translation; Azog wanted his head.

Thorin tried to reach for his ax. He would fight as long as he lived, but he could not breathe. He could barely move. His fingers brushed against the flat of the ax, but he could not grasp it.

An orc placed a sword on Thorin’s throat, the steel far warmer than he expected. The goblin raised his sword to strike off Thorin’s head.

But the blow never came.

Thorin saw the Hobbit running. The Hobbit that hated fighting so much she fainted because of a sibling spat. The Hobbit terrified of guns and fire.

That same Hobbit knocked the orc off its feet and killed it without mercy. She stood up with her sword pointed at Azog.

Bramble was the last thing Thorin saw.

Chapter Text

Bramble was only five-years-old the first time Bungo Baggins read Julius Caesar to her as a bedtime story. He had already read Hamlet and Macbeth to her twice, so a new play was exciting to Bramble. She always loved those times because it was just her and her Father. Mother always told exciting tales, but it was Bungo who explained why the stories mattered in quiet times like these while Bramble was warm and safe in bed.

“Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.”

“What does it mean?” Bramble asked.

“Why don’t you tell me what you know already?” Bungo asked.

“Well, I get the second part. Everyone dies and it will happen no matter what we do.”

“Yes, but what of the first?”

Bramble bit her lip. “Um… a bit of yourself dies when you act cowardly? But if you are brave, you only die when you physically die?”

“That’s right, my little Bramble. What does it mean for you in your life though? What is the story trying to say to you?”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Bramble stood up after Thorin fell the second time. Her entire body shook as she saw the flames coming closer to her. She pushed aside her fear of fire at the thought of Thorin’s death.

She pulled out her glowing sword, her right side smarting from the movement. “I will only die once more in this life,” Bramble said to herself.

The Hobbit ran and threw herself at the Orc about to decapitate Thorin. They both fell to the ground. The orc lost his weapon while Bramble did not. She stabbed and killed it without hesitation.

Bramble pulled her sword out of the orc and stumbled backwards. She stayed standing and turned to the pack of goblins. Bramble’s arms quaked as she pointed her sword at Azog. Some of the Orcs tried to approach her, but she waved her weapon back and forth and tried to make herself look more intimidating than she actually was.

At these moments, warriors would say something clever or heart moving. Bramble was certain if she opened her mouth all she would do was scream. She could not show any more fear if it was within her power to do so.

Azog had a smile of disdain for Bramble. He gave an order and Bramble guessed it was something like, “Smash the annoying flea” or something equally demeaning which would lead to her demise.

Bramble kept taking steps back until she almost bumped into Thorin. She gave her best stance as she waited for the blows to come.

Fíli felled an orc. Bramble gasped in surprised. Dwalin, Fíli, Kíli, Nori, and Dís had regained their footing and fought the orc pack.

Bramble felt strength return to her. She leapt forward at the white warg, wounding it. The warg rammed its head against Bramble’s left side, knocking her over onto her back and away from Thorin. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and saw Azog came towards her.

There was the sound of motorcycle engines and strange screeches. A massive eagle swooped in and tried to knock Azog off of his warg, but the Orc dodged. Several motorcycles drove into the fray. One with a sidecar stopped in front of Fíli and Kíli.

“Come with me if you want to live,” the biker said.

“We have to stay and help uncle!” Fíli shouted.

Dís said, “Children! I acknowledge your decision as adults, but I am using my power as a parent to tell you to GET YOUR BUTTS ON THAT MOTORCYCLE!”

Fíli jumped into the sidecar while Kíli hopped behind the biker. Three more motorcyclists arrived. One took Thorin and put him in a sidecar. Another took Dwalin and Nori. The last one tossed Bramble into his sidecar while Dís hopped onto the back. The Hobbit saw some of the eagles pick up the other members of the Company.

The orcs and wargs screamed at the loss of their prey.

After five minutes of what was possibly the bumpiest ride of Bramble’s entire life, they were on a highway. “Where are we going?” Bramble asked.

“We’re going to drop you off with your friends,” the motorcyclist said.

The rush of wind cleared the smell of smoke from her nostrils. “Who are you? Why did you help us?” Bramble said.

“Us? Oh, we’re the Eagles. Didn’t you see the giant birds flying around?” the biker said.

“But you are not a gigantic bird of prey!” Bramble protested.

“Not everything is as it seems in this place. It’s easier to show you,” he said. He winked at Bramble and motioned to his jacket. Dís leaned back. The jacket had an eagle embroidered on it. “Your wizard helped our leader once. Gandalf texted my boss and asked for help since he knew we were in the area.”

“I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS! YOU GUYS ARE REMAKABLE!” Bramble said in unmitigated fan girl glee.

“Another time, little bunny,” the biker said with a grin, “I have to make sure we aren’t followed.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Sometime later, the bikers stopped in front of an abandoned motorcycle bar which looked straight out of a bad action film. The rest of the Company was already there. None of them appeared to have been seriously hurt. Bramble wanted to ask what happened to the giant eagles, but she saw Thorin was still unconscious.

Gandalf and Dís rushed over to Thorin. “He’s not breathing Gandalf! What’s wrong with him?”

A biker took Thorin out of the sidecar and laid him on the gravel by the motorcycle. The entire Company ran over. Gandalf knelt over Thorin, taking his pulse.

Bramble tried to step out of the sidecar, but fell out instead. She remained lying on the ground, clutching to the gravel until her hands bled. “Please, let him live. Please. Please don’t be dead.”

Chapter Text

It was warm wherever Thorin was. He opened his eyes and found himself lying in his bed in Erebor. He sat up and looked around at his room. Thorin felt something was wrong, but he was not sure what.

How could anything be wrong? He was home.

After dressing, he entered his family’s small dining room. Dís, Fíli, and Kíli were already eating. Dís wore a gown of silver with pale green emeralds which matched her eyes. Fíli was dressed in the colors of the House of Durin, her hair braided with beads of silver and sapphires. Kíli was dressed for archery practice; the only jewels he wore were on a belt with the insignia of the House of Durin.

“Hey there, lazybones. Just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean you get to sleep around all day,” Dís said.

Thorin sat down and began serving himself breakfast. “I… my dreams were odd.”

“How so?” Dís said.

“We were… attacked by Orcs. Trees were on fire. There was someone… someone there protecting me. I can’t remember.”

“Well, did you defeat them?” Fíli asked.

“Who?” Thorin said.

“The Orcs,” Kíli said.

“Ah. Well. Like I said, I can’t remember,” Thorin said.

“Don’t worry yourself,” Dís said.

Thorin rubbed his forehead. “You’re right. Your husband has already gone to the mines?”

“Indeed,” Dís said, “Adad said he and you are going to be touring the silver guild today once you got your lazy butt out of bed. After that, you two are to join Frerin for the council meeting.”

Thorin felt a tap on his shoulder. He smiled as he looked up. “Hello, Amad.”

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

It was a perfectly ordinary day. Thorin did his duties. He practiced his swordsmanship with Dwalin. He teased Frerin. Thráin discussed different aspects of kingship with Thorin over lunch. It was a perfectly ordinary day.

Life was never perfect.

Thorin walked with Fíli to the gates of Erebor as things began to fall apart. “What’s the matter, Idad?”

“I am just… a bit odd today, Fíli. That’s all,” Thorin said. He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “How are you?”

“I’m great. Adad said he was going to show me an interesting piece of gold he mined the other day. He says it is shaped like a dragon. Weird, huh?” Fíli said. They climbed the stairs overlooking the gate.

“Dragon?” Thorin said. The breeze picked up.

“Yeah. The gold guild is trying to decide if it is a good omen or a bad one,” Fíli said.

Thorin looked around, a memory of trees breaking flashed before him. “Fíli, this isn’t right.”

“What isn’t, Idad?” Fíli asked.

Thorin motioned around them. “All of this. None of this is right.”

Fíli tilted her head. A flag pole broke near her. “Why do you think that?”

“Someone… someone is missing. Someone who was there in my dream,” Thorin covered his face and let out a yell of frustration. “Why can’t I remember?”

“A dream? You are going to be freaked out by a dream when you could just focus on the present,” Fíli said, “Everything is perfect. Nothing is wrong.”

Thorin stood up straight and looked at Fíli. “This isn’t real. This gate was destroyed by Smaug. I was there.”

A roar shook Thorin down to his bones. He grabbed Fíli and ran back into the hall. Fire began consuming Erebor.

“Why is this happening?” Fíli asked.

“Because this happened before you were even born!” Thorin said, “None of this is real!”

“How can you say that?” Fíli said.

“Bramble isn’t here! If she isn’t here, than everything is wrong!” Thorin said.

“Good! Very good!” Gandalf said from behind Thorin.

The Dwarf spun around and faced the wizard. Instead of his normal grey suit, Gandalf wore flowing grey robes with a long staff in his hands. Gandalf had long hair and a long beard, looking far more like a wizard should than Thorin ever had seen him in reality.

“What’s going on?” Thorin asked.

“You are asleep in the Halls of Waiting,” Gandalf said, “Your time has not come and your mind is fighting against death. You need to wake up, Thorin. This dream of yours was meant to wake you. No matter what you do, you will not have this back. You will never come to your childhood home again. So, your mind removed the one person you would have never met unless Smaug took Erebor.”

“Bramble,” Thorin said.

Gandalf nodded. “Thorin, I can only guide you out of the Halls of Mandos. I cannot take you by force. You have to do it yourself. You must wake up!”

Smaug came towards them. The dragon let out a great breath of flame. Thorin blinked.

He sat in a long stone hall. Dwarves sat across and beside him going on for what seemed miles and miles. All slept. Across from him was a Dwarf who looked like Frerin.

When Thorin blinked again, he was in pain. His whole body ached and his eyes did not want to remain open. But he did. The sun shined through the haze of humidity. The air smelled odd and it was too thick to be comfortable. It was not perfect.

Thorin was alive.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

All of the Dwarves stood around Thorin. Gandalf knelt over him, a hand on Thorin’s forehead. Everyone was there except…

“The Hobbit?” Thorin asked.

“It’s all right. Bramble is here. She’s quite safe,” Gandalf said with a soft smile.

Thorin began to move. Dwalin and Kíli helped him up. He shrugged the two off once he was on his feet. Thorin remembered bones breaking, but he just felt sore now.

The group parted to let Thorin through to Bramble. She lay on the ground, sobbing and bleeding.

“You! What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!” Thorin yelled.

Bramble looked up. “You’re not dead.”

Thorin limped over to the Hobbit as she stood up. He embraced her. “Of course I’m not. I have to protect my burglar, don’t I?”

Bramble hugged him back and cried even more. “That was your one stupid action for this quest you majestic idiot!”

Thorin chuckled. “I used it up when I gave you a gun.”

Bramble laughed and it eased the pain in Thorin’s heart. He inhaled the scent of her hair, which should not have smelled as fantastic as it did at that moment. The scent of lilacs was long gone and all that was left was her. “Thank you, Bramble.”

“I promised to protect the Company, which includes you,” Bramble said.

Thorin pulled back, but kept a hold on Bramble’s shoulders. “I am sorry I doubted you.”

“No, I would have doubted me too. I’m not a hero or a warrior... not even a burglar.”

The Company laughed heartily. Bramble smiled up at Thorin.

He realized why it was wrong when Bramble was not with him in his dream.

Before Thorin could fully process what he had just discovered, all of the motorcycles roared to life. The riders seemed to have golden feathers embroidered into their leather jackets.

“Can you give us a lift to New Mexico?” Bofur asked.

“WE ARE NOT A TAXI SERVICE!” the eagles shouted as they rode away.

The Company laughed again. Thorin pulled Bramble closer to him, her right side brushing against his left. She flinched.

“Sorry. I hurt myself in the tunnels,” Bramble said.

“We should have Óin check on you,” Thorin said.

Bramble nodded and rested her head against Thorin’s chest, her shoulders slumping with relief. She hummed the song of the Lonely Mountain the Dwarves sang the night they were in Bag-End. The last bit of cold from the Halls of Waiting left Thorin. He felt a deep joy because she remembered his people’s song.

A bird flew past them. “Is that a raven?” Ori asked.

“That, my dear Ori, is a thrush,” Gandalf said.

“But we’ll take it as a sign,” Thorin said. He smiled down at Bramble. “A good omen.”

Bramble was about to respond when she fell. Thorin was too injured to stop her, but he slowed her descent. “Bramble! What’s wrong?”

“I’m feeling dizzy,” Bramble said.

“Óin!” Thorin shouted.

The doctor was already there. “Where does it hurt professor?”

“She said her right side,” Thorin replied.

“I’m fine,” Bramble said, “I just need to sleep.”

Thorin shifted so Bramble leaned against his chest as Óin rolled up Bramble’s shirt. There was a purple and black bruise covering her right side from the bottom of her ribs all the way down to the top of her skirt.

“How long have you had this?” Óin asked.

“Don’t know. Hurt since the tunnels,” Bramble said. She struggled to keep her eyes open.

“Bramble, stay awake,” Thorin said. He pinched her arm, but it barely had any effect on her.

“Gandalf, we need to get her to a hospital,” Óin said, “I think she is bleeding eternally for at least twenty-four hours. If we don’t get help, she may die.”

“We don’t even have a car!” Kíli said.

“Get her one!” Thorin shouted, “Save her Gandalf!”

“I can’t,” Gandalf said, “I have used as much of my power as I can to save you. Healing is not my gift and I would do more harm than good if I tried to help her now.”

“I won’t lose her after I found her again! Help her!” Thorin commanded.

“I might be able to call someone I know, but he lives in Florida and it will take time for him to get here,” Gandalf said, “He may only take her since he has no love of Dwarves.”

“I don’t care! Save her!”

“No. No. I know you can’t,” Bramble said as she closed her eyes. “I know you can’t risk this quest for the sake of one burglar. It’s okay. Go.”

“No! You’re not just a burglar! Wake up! BRAMBLE!”

TO BE CONTINUED