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    Summary

    “Are you absolutely sure you saw a halfling?” Thorin demanded.

    Kili paused as he looked at his uncle. For the first time, he almost thought he saw some hope in those dark blue eyes. His smile softened, he knew how important this was to his family, and to his people. Finding a hobbit was the only redemption for the dwarrow of Erebor, especially for the line of Durin.

    He took his uncle's calloused hand and said, “I swear it uncle. At least one hobbit still lives.”

    _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

    Of all the tales in Arda, there was none so tragic as the history of hobbits.

    Bilbo lived a peaceful life hiding in the Shire. It was quiet, safe, and a little bit lonely. Though loneliness was a small price to pay if it meant keeping his existence a secret. After all, getting captured by the savage dwarves of Erebor meant certain death. At least that's what the stories his mother used to tell him warned.

    Never trust a dwarf.

    Language:
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