Chapter Text
Finnick Took was an ordinary hobbit, who lived in an ordinary home, with her ordinary Uncle. They were well respected members of the community, who led quiet lives and never did anything unexpected at all.
There was a scheduled routine to their lives. Finny went to work and school, practicing her craft of carpentry. Her Uncle Bilbo worked in his garden, selling his produce in the local markets while she was away, and then they both returned to Bag End for the night. They ate dinner together before retiring to the sitting room while Finny painted and Bilbo read. And that was their lives, rinsed and repeated, happening like clockwork, sunup to sun down.
And Finny was satisfied with this. She had her work, she had her hobbies, she had her family, and most importantly she had her Uncle Bilbo. She didn’t need anything more. Or so she thought.
By the time Finny had left the workshop, the sun had long sunk away into the horizon. It had been a busy day with all sorts of hobbits wandering in and out, purchasing, and commissioning many different items. She’d spent most of her day building a rocking chair for an expectant mother and it seemed a worthy project to stay overtime for.
She brushed off her smock, hanging it back on the hook before locking up the shop and beginning her walk toward Bag End. She could hear hobbits celebrating not far down the road from her, lights twinkling along the dirt road as she climbed the hill toward her home. The green door came into view and she could hear the sound of voices emanating from inside the hobbit hole. She frowned, perhaps her uncle had company over? Usually he’d tell her in the morning if he planned to have other hobbits over for tea in the evening so that she wouldn’t be surprised by any unexpected visitors. She neared the door, frowning at a strange scratched mark in the green paint. She sighed to herself, she’d only just re-painted this door last week! She pushed the door open,
“Uncle! I’m home…” She trailed off as the door swung open to reveal two dwarves. They were holding two of her grandmother’s chairs, marching toward the kitchen. “Uh… hello,”
“You must be a friend of Mister Boggins!” the dark haired one exclaimed, Finny looked between him and the other dwarf, confusion etched into her face.
“Bag- Baggins, yes. I’m his niece,” Finny stammered, “I live here,”
“Perfect, we were just about to have dinner,” the blond dwarf said, beginning to head toward the dining room. Finny hurriedly closed the door heading after them,
“Who are you two?” She called after them,
“Fíli!” The blond one replied,
“And Kili,” the dark haired dwarf added with a beaming smile, she slowed,
“I didn’t know my uncle knew any dwarves,” she mumbled to herself. She dropped her bag in the living room before heading down toward the dining room, the sound of voices growing louder. “Uncle!” She called, she turned the corner to find the hall filled to the brim with dwarves. They were spilling out of every corner, carrying every sort of food she could imagine from the pantry into the dining room. And there was her uncle in the middle of it, wrestling a dwarf for a bowl of tomatoes, succeeding and yanking the vegetable to his chest.
“Put that back!” He hollered after the dwarves who were emptying all of the food from the pantry into the dining room. “That is my chicken! And my wine! Put that back! Put that back! Put that back!”
“Uncle!” She called over the dwarves, a large tattooed dwarf eyed her as he stomped past her. Bilbo sighed finally spotting his niece,
“Finny! Oh darling, I was beginning to wonder where you were!” He exclaimed, moving through the dwarves to greet her. He moved to embrace her but it was swiftly interrupted, “that is Grandpa Mungo’s chair!” He hollered, rushing over to the dwarf, grabbing the chair. “That is an antique! It is not for sitting on,”
“I can’t hear ya laddie!” The dwarf replied, shoving a horn in his ear,
“I didn’t catch your name,” Kíli said, popping up behind her, she jumped, looking up at the dwarf,
“Uh— Finny, my name’s Finny,” she said,
“Great! You can sit with me and Fíli, you haven’t eaten yet right,” she blinked at him,
“No, I just came from work,” she replied, Kíli smiled,
“Save you a seat!” He winked, ducking into the dining room.
“You haven’t eaten!” Bilbo exclaimed, she turned to him,
“No, Mister Hopper left before I did,” Bilbo grumbled to himself,
“I swear that they do not feed you in that place, he could at least leave you a plate of biscuits!” The elder hobbit stomped past her, snatching a plate of cookies from a passing dwarf. He pushed it toward her, “here I’ll go find you something to eat,” he turned toward the dining room, “if they haven’t eaten it all!” He yelled irritably, Finny turned, spotting a large figure hovering under the doorway. The figure was so large that she couldn’t even see his face! The figure ducked lower to reveal the face of a man. His face was aged but his eyes still sparkled with youth, a small smile on his face that was hidden by a long gray beard.
“Finnick Took! My how you’ve grown,” the man greeted, smiling warmly at her. Finny smiled back, confused as she was.
“Uh, yes! Do I know you?” She asked, the man laughed,
“Oh well I suppose not, you were only a babe at the time,” he said, “I am getting too old you see and I’ve been a fond friend of your family for a very long time. I am Gandalf the Gray, I’m a wizard,” Gandalf extended his hand to her and Finny shook it,
“Lovely to meet you,” she said with a smile, “And you can call me Finny, everyone does,” Gandalf smiled at her, moving toward the dining room. The wizard began counting dwarves as they filed into the dining room finally sitting down for dinner.
“It appears we are one dwarf short,” Gandalf said, turning to the tattooed dwarf,
“He is late, that is all. He traveled North to a meeting with our kin. He will come,” the dwarf said gruffly,
“There’s more dwarves coming?” she asked, the tattooed dwarf glared at her, “I’m only wondering why you’re all here,”
“I’ll let him explain when he arrives, lassie,” The dwarf replied, turning into the dining room. Finny’s brow furrowed. Who was ‘him?’ Food was flying through the air as the dwarves cheered and sang and stomped their feet. Bilbo returned to her side, offering her a plate of food.
“There you are darling,” he leaned over, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I hope work was alright,” She smiled,
“Yes, it was fine Uncle, thank you,” she replied, she paused, “Um… Uncle, I don’t suppose you know why all these dwarves are here?... Do you?” Bilbo sighed,
“No, I do not. They just all showed up! Confound these dwarves,” he grumbled, she laughed,
“I’m going to go eat in my studio uncle,” she said, “If that’s alright,” Bilbo nodded, patting her shoulder,
“Of course darling,” he leaned over to her, “you know where I keep the good cookies if you’re still hungry after supper,” he winked, before walking away.
She nodded, carrying her food toward her studio, setting down the plate and clearing off her desk to find a place to eat. She listened to the chatter and cheering of the dwarves from the other room as she ate. Soon she finished, heading toward the kitchen so that she could see help with the dishes.
She jumped over the mud staining the carpet, grimacing at the amount of food that was now covering the floor. These dwarves had all but destroyed Bag End in their partying.
“Excuse me! That is not a dishcloth!” Bilbo yelped, yanking a doily out of an auburn haired dwarf’s hand. “That is a doily!”
“But it’s full o’ holes,” Another dwarf commented, taking a long draw out of his pipe,
“It’s supposed to look like that it’s crochet,” Bilbo retorted,
“Oh! And a wonderful game it is too,” The dwarf replied, “If you got the balls for it,” Finny snorted, covering it up as a cough into her sleeve. Bilbo growled, throwing the doily down onto the shelf,
“Bebother and confusticate these dwarves!” he said with as much mirth as his small hobbit body could manage. Gandalf ducked under the doorway, frowning sympathetically at Bilbo.
“My dear Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?” Bilbo whipped around,
“What’s the matter!” he snapped, “I’m surrounded by dwarves! What are they doing here!” Finny looked between the two of them, before blowing out a deep breath through her teeth. She turned,
“I’m going to start collecting the dishes,” she said, excusing herself, heading down the hallway. She poked her head into the dining room, “um, is anyone done with their plates?” The dwarves turned to look at her,
“What about dessert? A younger dwarf asked, tilting his head. Finny stared at him,
“Uh, well I suppose I could find something,” she replied, turning to the pantry. She dug through the pantry finding a jar filled with chocolate cookies, which she readily offered to the dwarves. “Hope you like them, I made them,” she said, smiling at the dwarves. They passed around the jar more calmly than they had been sharing the food earlier, seemingly pacified after a big meal. “I’m Finny,” she said, “In case any of you didn’t catch my name,” The dwarves chattered in ‘pleased to meet you’s’ and ‘how do you do’s’. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch any of your names…” The dwarves went around the table introducing themselves one by one,
There was Balin and Dwalin, clearly the oldest of the troop, and brothers. Next to them sat Oin and Gloin, and Oin was the one who couldn’t hear very well. Then she already knew Fíli and Kili, and somehow through all of this Balin, Dwalin, Oin, Gloin, Fíli and Kíli were all cousins. And then there was Dori, Nori, and Ori, all brothers as well with Ori being the youngest among them between the brothers. He enjoyed crocheting just like she did! Then Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur. Bombur and Bofur were brothers, and Bifur was their cousin. Bofur had introduced Bifur as the veteran dwarf was no longer able to speak Westron. They seemed like a merry bunch, even if a bit mannerless by hobbit standards. Finny had never met anyone who wasn’t a hobbit so she wanted to ask them all the questions she could before they left. Soon the dwarves began to disperse throughout the house, beginning to light pipes and explore the whole of Bag End.
“I don’t understand what they’re doing in my house!” Bilbo exclaimed, she turned to the elder hobbit as Ori wandered out of the dining room.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, holding out his plate to her uncle. “But what should I do with my plate?” Fíli walked up toward the pair,
“Here you go Ori, give it to me,” he said, taking the plate from the smaller dwarf. He immediately chucked the plate at his brother at high speeds, Kíli caught it before chucking it into the kitchen. More plates flew out from the dining room to Fíli, who passed it onto Kíli who hurled them into the kitchen.
“Excuse me!” Bilbo cried, “That’s my mother’s westfarthing pottery! It’s over a hundred years old!”
“Oh lovely, they’re doing the dishes!” Finny clapped, smiling broadly, Fíli and Kíli were almost dancing now, kicking the dishes around on their ankles, and up onto their shoulders before sending them on their way. The porcelain made a charming clinking noise as it bounced off of Fíli and Kili’s shoulders. The dwarves began to stomp rhythmically, tapping their silverware against the table.
“Can you- can you not do that?” Bilbo asked, trying to grab the silverware away from the dwarves, “you’ll blunt them!”
“Ooo do you hear that lads?” Bofur asked, “He says we’ll blunt the knives!”
“Blunt the knives, bend the forks!” Kíli began to sing,
“Smash the bottles and burn the corks!” Fíli added, singing along with his brother,
“Chip the glasses and crack the plates,” The other dwarves joined in, singing along merrily, “That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!” The song was a fun tune, having even Finny clapping along.
“Cut the cloth, tread the fat! Leave the bones on the bedroom mat! Pour the milk on the pantry floor, splash the wine on every door! Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl, pound them up with a thumping pole! When you're finished, if they are whole, send them down the hall to roll! That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!” The dwarves cheered, Bilbo rushed into the kitchen, followed by his niece. They were greeted with the dishes stacked neatly, all polished clean and ready to be shelved. Not a chipped plate or blunted knife in sight. Bilbo breathed out, pinching at the bridge of his nose.
“Why don’t you all go sit yourself in the dining room,” Finny offered, “We’ll bring out tea in a moment,” The dwarves all cheered at the prospect filing out of the kitchen. “I’ll help you put away the dishes, Uncle,” Bilbo nodded, smiling softly at her.
“Thank you for all your help Finny,” he said, grabbing her hand,
“You’re welcome Uncle,” The two hobbits worked in tandem until all the dishes had been shelved away and the kitchen cleaned; they retreated back toward the dining room, ready with tea. The dwarves had now seemed to calm, chatting amongst themselves. Finny still didn’t know why they were there, and she didn’t know if she especially cared at that point. It was the most fun she’d had in a long time.
Then came two loud knocks at the door, the dwarves fell silent.
“He is here,” Gandalf said lowly, Finny turned,
“I’ll get it,” she said, moving toward the door but Gandalf stopped her,
“Don’t worry. I’ll get it Finny,” he said, heading toward the door. And everyone followed. The dwarves seemed to know exactly who was at the door, but Finny couldn’t help her curiosity. The dwarves had to be here for some reason, and whoever was at the door had to be their leader judging by the heavy air of respect that had fallen amongst the inhabitants of Bag End.
Gandalf opened the door to a regal looking dwarf, wrapped up in a cloak. He nodded to the wizard, dark curls falling down in front of his eyes.
“Gandalf,” The dwarf greeted, “I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice,” The dwarf said, a small smile on his face. He turned to Kili, smiling at the dwarf as he took off his cloak. “I wouldn’t have found it if not for the mark on the door,”
“There is no mark on that door, Finny painted it a week ago!” Bilbo exclaimed grouchily,
“There is a mark,” Finny said, “I noticed it when I came home,”
“I put it there,” Gandalf replied, looking between the two hobbits, “Bilbo, Finny, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.” The dwarf turned to them, stark judgment in his eyes as he looked the hobbits over.
“So this is the hobbit,” Thorin said, eyes fixing themselves onto Bilbo, “Tell me Master Baggins, have you done much fighting?” Thorin began to circle them, sizing them both up. Finny fought the urge to laugh, obviously Oakenshield had never even seen a hobbit, let alone knowing anything about the lives they led.
“Pardon me?” Bilbo said, staring dumbfounded at the dwarf. Finny could tell her Uncle’s patience was wearing thin for the night, too much stress with all of the dwarves wandering around his home.
“Ax or sword? Which is your weapon of choice?” Thorin asked, wry smile still on his face,
“Well I do have some skill at Conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see how it’s relevant,” Her uncle replied, causing Finny to giggle, covering it with her hand.
“Thought as much.” Thorin said, smiling triumphantly at the hobbit, “He looks more like a grocer than a burglar,” The dwarves all laughed along with their leader,
“You’ve never met a hobbit, have you?” Finny replied, placing a hand on her hip. Thorin’s eyebrows narrowed, Bilbo placed a hand on her shoulder,
“Now, now Finny. Why don’t you find something for our guest to eat.” Finny narrowed her eyes at the dwarf before huffing off toward the pantry. She soon returned to the dining room, setting a glass of water and a bowl of soup in front of Thorin,
“Sorry we don’t have much else,” she said, Thorin dipped his head in gratitude.
She wasn’t listening to the dwarves' conversation anymore, beginning to sweep at the dried mud in the floors and carpet. Her uncle approached her, carrying a stack of blankets and pillows.
“Finny darling, I believe that our guests may be staying through the night. I want you to sleep in my room tonight,” he said, she looked to him,
“Uncle I can sleep in my—“
“I’m not asking Finny. I’ll lay out some blankets for you on the couch in my room alright?” Finny nodded, knowing better than to argue with her Uncle at this late hour.
“This quest is ours and ours alone,” Thorin said, his voice filled with vigor and determination. Finny looked up at the word,
“You’re going on a quest?” Finny asked, creeping back toward the dining room. Thorin looked at her before nodding. Her uncle joined her at the back of the dining room,
“Bilbo, my dear fellow,” Gandalf began, “let us have a little more light,” Bilbo left, grabbing a candle from the shelf and placing it on the table. Gandalf removed a small map from his pocket, spreading it out on the table. “Far to east, over ranges and woodlands, beyond rivers and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak,”
Finny leaned over Thorin’s shoulder to get a glimpse of the map,
“The… lonely mountain,” she read, becoming more and more confused by the minute. Her eyes glazed over the map, with illegible symbols and scribblings that looked years old. Her eyes landed back on the lonely mountain, gaze narrowing at the small red illustration of a dragon curled around the peak.
“Aye!” Glóin interjected, “Oín has read the portents and the portents say it’s time,” Oín nodded,
“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.” He added,
“Beast?” Bilbo interjected, “what beast?”
“Well that would be in reference to Smaug the terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age.” Bofur said, Finny glanced at the dwarf before looking down at the map, “airborne fire breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks, extremely fond of precious metals-“
“Yes I know what a dragon is,” Bilbo replied indignantly,
“The task to win back the mountain would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number only thirteen, and not thirteen of the best and brightest.” Balin said, looking around at the dwarves seated at the table. The company grumbled, hurling back protests and more insults before Fíli interjected.
“We may be few in number,” he said, “but we’re fighters, all of us! Down to the last dwarf!” He slammed his fist down onto the table,
“And remember we have a wizard in our company!” Kíli added gleefully, eyes bright. “He’ll have killed thousands of dragons in his time!” All eyes came to rest on Gandalf who coughed uncomfortably on smoke coming from his pipe.
“Well no I wouldn’t say that,” Gandalf said, waving a hand at the dwarves,
“How many then?” Dori asked,
“What?” The wizard replied,
“Come on then give us a number!” Dori demanded, the dwarves began to clamor, shouting with each other and arguing loudly. Thorin slammed his fists down on the table, shouting something in a language Finny didn’t understand. She jumped back from the dwarf as his voice echoed throughout the room.
“If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them as well?” The leader demanded, looking across his company, “the rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for almost sixty years. Eyes look East to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people lies unprotected.” Finny looked up at Thorin, fiddling with her hands. There was something else. Something else that Thorin desired about the mountain other than the treasure that lay inside it. The dwarf was hiding something. “Do we sit back and let others claim what’s rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor!” Thorin roared, the dwarves jumped up from their chairs, cheering as new found vigor penetrated the air as they prepared for their quest.
“You forget!” Balin interjected, raising his voice over the clamoring of the company, “the door is sealed! There is no way into the mountain,” the dwarves were silent, slipping back into their seats.
“That,” Gandalf began, “my dear Balin is not entirely true,” the wizard twiddled his fingers and magically a large key appeared in his hand. It looked of dwarvish make, made of heavy iron with delicate inscriptions. Thorin’s face melted into wonder,
“How came you by this,” he breathed, reaching out for the key reverently.
“It was given to me by your father, Thráin, for safe keeping. It is yours now,” the wizard explained, Thorin took the key carefully from the wizard, running it over in his hands. “The runes here speak of another passage to the lower halls,”
“There’s another way in,” Kíli breathed,
“Well if we are able to find it,” Gandalf said, “dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map, but I do not have the skills to find it. But there are others in Middle Earth who can.” The dwarves all looked on with wonder and curiosity, all listening intently. “The task that 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 it can be done.”
“That’s why we need a burglar!” Ori piped up, Bilbo hummed, looking on at the map.
“A good one too,” he said, “an expert I imagine,”
“And are you?” Oin asked, all the dwarves turned to look at the pair of hobbits.
“Am I a what?” Bilbo asked, brow furrowed,
“He says he’s an expert!” Oin cheered, causing several other dwarves to let out small whoops as well.
“Me? No no no,” Bilbo stammered, “I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.” The dwarves all jerked their gaze from Bilbo to Finny,
“What about you?” Nori asked, “are you a burglar?” Finny frowned,
“A burglar? No I’m a carpenter,” she turned her gaze back to the map, “though if you really need a burglar might as well talk to Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, caught her trying to steal my best paintbrushes last time she was here.” The dwarves began to murmur amongst each other, “I was joking,”
“I’m afraid I have to agree with the hobbits. They’re hardly burglar material.” Balin said, Finny shrugged. She didn’t think it was overly a compliment to be considered good burglar material.
“Aye,” Dwalin said, eyes narrowing at the pair of hobbits. “The wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight, nor fend for themselves,” Bilbo nodded along with the dwarf, choosing to ignore the insult laced in his words. The dwarves began to argue suddenly about what they might do as neither hobbit was offering up their services to be their burglar and now they were at a loss. The lights began to flicker as Gandalf rose up voice booming out and echoing over the dwarves,
“ENOUGH!” the wizard boomed, light sucking into darkness around him, “If I say that Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!” The dwarves all shrunk away from the wizard as Finny stared at him. This raw display of magical ability shook her in her core, the dark magic pulsing in the back of her mind, like a throbbing ache. The lights fluttered back to normal, flicking dimly, “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet.” The wizard said, softly this time but still commanding. “In fact they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarves, the scent of a hobbit is all but unknown to him which gives us a distinct advantage.” The dwarves turned their gaze back to the hobbits, eyeing them, assessing them, seeing if the wizard could be right about these two gentle creatures. Gandalf sank back into his seat, looking to Thorin, “You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company and I have chosen Mister Baggins. There’s a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he’s got a great deal more to offer than any of you know.” The wizard turned to Bilbo, “Including himself. You must trust me on this,”
Thorin sighed, eyes scanning the room over the members of his company before he turned back to look at the hobbits. “Very well,” he turned to the wizard, “we’ll do it your way,” The dwarf turned to Balin, “Give him the contract,” The dwarves let out several whoops of excitement and celebration as the eldest dwarf pulled out a thick folded piece of paper from his jacket.
“It’s just the usual, summary out of pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth,” The dwarf said, Bilbo hesitantly took the contract,
“Funeral arrangements?” Bilbo stammered, beginning to unfold the paper in a hurry, Finny attempted to peer over his shoulder to read it but the print was too small for her to make out from such a distance. Bilbo began to read, “cash on delivery,” he murmured, “up to but not exceeding, one fourteenth of total profit, if any. Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, including, but not limited to lacerations? …Eviscerations? Incineration?” Bilbo turned back to the dwarves, blinking at them.
“Oh he’ll melt the flesh off ya bones in the blink of an eye,” Bofur said, chewing on the end of his pipe. Bilbo dropped the contract down by his hip, pressing a hand on his chest breathing out slowly.
“You alright laddie?” Balin asked, as Bilbo pinched his brow, blowing out a deep breath through his teeth.
“Yeah,” the hobbit said, bending forward, pressing his hands to his knees, “feel a bit faint,” Finny’s brow pressed together, nearing her uncle. She placed a hand on his back,
“Uncle, maybe you ought to sit down for a moment,” she said, pulling the contract from his hand.
“Think furnace… with wings!” Bofur suggested,
“Air… air I need air!” Bilbo exclaimed, rubbing his hand across his nose.
“Uncle! Just sit down please!” Finny exclaimed, grabbing his arm.
“Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You’re nothing more than a pile of ash,” Bofur added, Finny shot the dwarf a glare before turning back to her Uncle. He stood up straight, breathing out slowly, brushing Finny off. He opened his mouth before closing it once more,
“Nope,” he said, his eyes rolled back into head and he collapsed like a board to the ground. She sighed, kneeling down next to her Uncle and rolling him onto his side.
“Very helpful Bofur,” Gandalf grumbled as he stood.
Finny shook Bilbo gently, rubbing his arm.
“Here Uncle, wake up, it’s alright.” Slowly the elder hobbit came back too, groaning.
“Oh, my head,” he murmured,
“Take it slow,” she said, grabbing his arm, “Let me help you,” Slowly she was able to help Bilbo to his feet, and then into his chair.
“Thank you, darling,” he said, patting her hand. Finny nodded, smiling softly,
“I’ll get you some tea,” she said,
She stalked past the dwarves, glaring at them as she went, before she left into the kitchen. She turned as she heard footsteps in behind her as she set a tea kettle on the stove. “Gandalf,” She sighed, the wizard placed a hand on her shoulder,
“Your Uncle will be alright,” he said, “Bilbo Baggins is far more resilient that he knows,” Finny stared at the tea kettle, fists clenching and unclenching,
“I know,” she replied,
“And so are you, you know,” The wizard said, she turned to look at him, “I know you don’t remember me, but your grandmother told me many stories of you as a little girl.” Finny bit the inside of her cheek, “I was told of a brave and curious little hobbit who enjoyed looking for elves and magic. Your grandmother said you destroyed her carpet with all the mud and leaves you tracked into her house.” Finny choked on a watery laugh. Gandalf smiled at her softly, “Haven’t you ever wondered what’s out there?” he motioned to the window and Finny’s gaze followed.
Longing ached deep in her chest as she watched the night of the Shire flit about.
“Yes, but I…” She trailed off, shaking her head as a lump lodged itself into her throat, “I…I can’t- I can’t just leave,” she motioned around at the home around her, “I can’t just run off into the wild,”
“And why not?” The wizard asked, Finny scoffed at him, running a hand over her braid. She shrugged, making a strangled noise,
“Because I have a life here,” she said finally, “My Uncle needs me,” she said. Gandalf stared at her for a moment,
“And what about you? What do you want,” He said, she opened her mouth, “Not what your parents want, not what these rabble want, I mean you Finnick Took. What do you want,” She dropped the wizard’s gaze as the kettle whistled. She was silent as she poured the water over the tea bag and brushed past the wizard. “Life isn’t in your books and maps,” The wizard said after her, “It’s out there,”
She didn’t answer him.
She brushed past the dwarves, returning to the living room where she handed Bilbo the cup of tea she had made.
“Thank you Finny,” She nodded,
“I’m going to retire I think,” She said after a moment, “Goodnight Uncle,” he smiled at her,
“Goodnight darling,” he called after her.
As she passed the dining room she picked up the discarded contract off the ground and stuffed it into her pocket.
***
Thorin watched as Bilbo exited the living room, the voices of Gandalf and the hobbit dying down. The hobbit, clearly distraught, wandered off into the recesses of his home and Thorin watched him go.
“Looks like we’ve lost our burglar,” Balin said, watching the hobbit go, “Probably for the best. The odds were always against us,” The elder dwarf surveyed the dwarves he could see, crossing his arms over his chest, “After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toy-makers; hardly the stuff of legend.” Thorin smiled fondly at his old mentor,
“There are few warriors among us,” he replied, Balin raised an incredulous eyebrow at him,
“Old warriors,” he retorted, Thorin huffed out a laugh,
“I will take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills.” He began, meeting Balin’s gaze, “For when I called upon them, they answered me. Loyalty, honor, a willing heart; I can ask no more than that.” he replied softly,
Balin stared at him somberly for a moment before speaking,
“You don’t have to do this Thorin. You do have a choice. You’ve done honorably by our people. You have built a life for us in the blue mountains of peace and plenty. A life that is worth all the gold in Erebor.” He said earnestly,
Thorin carefully pulled the dwarvish key from his pocket, holding it tightly in his hand.
“From my grandfather to my father this has come to me,” he said, gripping the key even tighter, “they dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland.” Thorin let his hand drop to his side, smiling sadly at this old friend. “There is no choice, not for me,” he ended softly, Balin nodded firmly, reaching over to pat Thorin’s shoulder,
“Then we’re with you laddie, we’ll see it done,” he said, “Should get some rest, there’s a long road ahead of us,” Thorin nodded as Balin walked off into BagEnd. He drew in a long breath, letting the air fill his chest before he breathed out again. He let his eyes scan the interior of the hobbit home. It was a well loved place, filled with remnants of a life well lived. He could see the routine ingrained deep into the home, where the two hobbits worked easily around each other with respect and love.
A little family in their own right. His gaze flickered to the window, mind wandering to his own kin, and his nephews. The hobbit girl couldn’t have been any older than Kíli was, with big curious eyes framed by silver wired glasses that only made her face look all the younger.
“Thorin?” a small voice asked, he turned to see the hobbit in question standing there staring at him. She shuffled her feet for a moment, pulling at her dress,
“Yes?” he asked,
“May I ask you a question?” she replied. She seemed more timid now, rather than the quick witted confident hobbit he’d seen earlier. Thorin finally nodded, eyeing her, “I…” she hesitated, adjusting her glasses, “I know there’s treasures in the mountain, because of, well the…” she grimaced uncomfortably, “You know,” Thorin nodded slowly, “But why else do you want the mountain? It seems like a dangerous quest just for gold,” she said, “So… why the mountain?”
Thorin watched her for a moment before replying, “It’s my home,” he said, “The dragon took my home from me. That’s why I’m taking up the quest to reclaim Erebor. Because I want to go home,” Finny’s face fell, brow stitching together painfully. Thorin watched as a deep wave of grief washed over the small being. She pulled at her dress again, staring at her feet.
“I see,” She murmured, looking back up. Her smile was watery, “Thank you,” Thorin’s brow pressed together, but he nodded to her as she walked away. He tried to ignore the tugging in his heart as he watched her go. It was like the girl understood the pain he had known for sixty years since he lost Erebor. Thorin breathed in deep, raking a hand through his hair as he tried to push the hobbit from his mind.
‘She knows your loss,’ a small voice whispered in the back of his mind.
Thorin wandered back to the living room where the rest of the company had gathered. He moved to the fireplace, pulling his pipe out of his pocket. It had been far too long of a day and now Thorin wondered if he’d be able to sleep at all with all that was now on his mind.
Balin moved to his side, pointing a finger through the doorway to the dining room.
“She’s reading the contract,” he whispered, Thorin’s gaze jerked upward to where the hobbit was. And it was true, she was sitting at the table, carefully reading the contract, fingers pulling painfully at her hair. “I don’t know what you said to her but it appears as if we may have secured ourselves a burglar.”
Thorin’s eyes stayed glued to the hobbit as she sat hunched over at the table, candlelight flickering in her eyes.
‘She only needs one more push out the door,’ a voice whispered in the back of his mind.
And so he sang.
***
A low hum began to emulate from the living room, reverberating softly throughout her home. Finny blinked up away from the contract as the low humming of dwarves.
‘Far over the misty mountains cold,’ one dwarf began to sing, leading the company in a slow deliberate song, ‘to dungeons deep, and caverns old. We must away, ere break of day, to find out long forgotten gold,” It was Thorin, her mind supplied, who was leading the song,
Slowly the other dwarves joined into the lyrics in a song filled with deep wanton and longing, ‘fiery mountain, beneath the moon. The words unspoken, we’ll be there soon. For home a song, that echoes on. Is our kingdom a distant light?’
Something deep inside Finny ached, deep wounds that she had so carefully mended were ripped open in an instant, and her heart bled. ‘Some folk we never forget. Some kind we never forgive, haven’t seen the end of it yet. We’ll fight as long as we live. All eyes on the hidden door. To the Lonely Mountain borne, we’ll ride in the gathering storm, till we get our long forgotten home,’
Tears trickled down her face in shimmering cascading lines down her face as the song ceased and there was silence.
‘He knows your loss,’