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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,’    

Chapter Text

          The next morning…

Thorin hustled the dwarves of his company out the door. It was clear that they weren’t going to get a burglar here so they were wasting time. The dwarf moved to shut the large green door behind him when it was stopped by a small hand. 

“Wait!” Finny yelped, pushing the door open, “Oh good, you haven’t left yet!” she grinned up at him, a large pack on her back. Thorin stared, hand still on the door, “I’m coming with you,” she pulled the contract out of her pocket, shoving it toward him. “I signed it and everything, so I’ll be your burglar,” 

Thorin opened the contract as Balin appeared behind his shoulder, 

“Well it looks like everything is in order,” the elder dwarf smiled, “Welcome to the company of Thorin Oakenshield Miss Took,” Finny grinned, adjusting her pack. Thorin frowned before turning to the company, 

“Fíli, Kili! Get her a pony,” His nephews nodded as the girl finally wandered over to the boys. 

“She’ll be alright,” Balin said, “Got a smart head on her shoulders,” Thorin’s frown deepened, 

“I cannot guarantee her safety,” He said after a moment, “And you know that,” Balin nodded somberly, and didn’t say anything more of it.

“You’re coming with us?”  Kíli asked as she approached, she nodded, “Great!” he grinned brightly, Fíli joined his brother, holding the reins of a brown and cream spotted pony. 

“Tie her pack to your pony Kili,” Fíli said, motioning for Finny to take off her bag. She obeyed, handing the pack over to  Kíli and Fíli passed her the reins of the pony. She hesitated as the pony began to nuzzle at her face, 

“I… uh- I’ve never ridden,” she said sheepishly, Fíli blinked, 

“Oh! Why didn't you say so?” he said, moving to her side, “Here I’ll help you,” he took the reins from her once more, pulling the pony so that its side was facing her. “Here, you’ll put your foot in the stirrup here, and your hand here to brace yourself,” he motioned to the metal bracket hanging down from the pony’s saddle, and then to a knob on top of the saddle.  “And then you’ll hoist yourself over.” She nodded, placing her foot in the stirrup, unfortunately it was too small for her but she supposed she’d just have to make it work. She pushed up, swinging her way over, and with Fíli’s help she was able to get seated onto the pony. Fíli grinned at her, “There we are,” he passed the reins to her, moving her hands so that she was holding it properly, “Alright so if you want her to go, kick her hard in the flank. And if you want to stop, pull the reins back so her hand comes toward your chest. And then if you want to go to the right, pull her to the right, and if you want to go left, pull her head left.” Finny nodded, 

“I think I got it,” she said, smiling awkwardly at the blond dwarf, Fíli gave a soft laugh, 

“Just to be safe for today I’ll tie your pony to mine,” he said, “so you can get used to her,” The dwarves were in a hurry clearly as they packed up and were on the road before the sun had even fully cleared the horizon line. 

The ride was mostly silent save for the morning chattering of a few dwarves, everyone seemed too tired to even try to make conversation with one another. Finny shared their sentiment as she hadn’t slept all night. Instead she’d been making preparations to leave for this trip, and writing messages to her family letting them know where she’d gone. She’d looked at maps for a majority of the night and she didn’t know exactly what path they’d take to the mountain, but either way it would be a long journey. 

“Wait!” a familiar voice yelled, “WAIT!” Finny’s gaze snapped back as she spotted her Uncle running up the path behind the company. “FINNICK ROSEMARY TOOK YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE YOUNG LADY!” He shouted, Finny grimaced, face flushing. “You thought you could leave in the early morning and I wouldn’t notice!” he marched himself right over next to her pony, hands on his hips, and a very angry glare on his face. “If you wouldn’t be so insistent on running off in the blue yonder and actually talked to me, you would’ve known that I’ve decided to come as well.” She blinked at him, 

“You’re… coming too?” she asked, Bilbo rolled his eyes fondly at her. 

“I am not letting you face a dragon alone. Or at all if I can help it, so you’re stuck with me now.” Finny’s face broke out into a bright smile, beaming down at the elder hobbit. 

Thorin looked between the two hobbits, 

“Give him a pony,” he ordered, pulling at the reins of his own pony. Bilbo’s gaze snapped over to the leader, shaking his head, 

“Oh no, no, no, that won’t be necessary,” he stammered, “I’ve done my fair share of walking holidays, you know, I even got as far as Frogmorton once- WOAH!” Fíli and  Kíli grabbed the hobbit by the arms, lifting him into the air and placing him onto a pony. 

After her Uncle officially joined the company the dwarves seemed to wake up a bit, chattering amongst themselves as they traveled. They were used to this clearly, but Finny had resigned herself to silence as they rode. She’d never been this far from home. Not even once. 

And thus they arrived, the borders of the Shire. Before them was a bridge that rode across the brandywine and once they crossed it, the Shire would be behind her. She chewed at her lip as she let her eyes wash over the rolling hills of her home one last time. Finny felt her pony jerk beneath as Fíli urged their ponies forward. She lifted her head at the sound of a pony pulling up beside her. 

“What’s wrong?”  Kíli asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder, “did you hear something?” She blinked at the dwarf, genuine concern etched into his face. 

“Oh, uh— nothing it’s just,” their ponies trotted their way off the bridge beyond the Shire. “I’ve never been this far from home before.” Kili’s brow furrowed for a moment, casting a glance back at that Shire and the hobbit holes that were still in view. 

“You’ve… never left the Shire?” He asked, Finny smiled, shaking her head, 

“We hobbits don’t get out much,” she joked, “I— uh have never had a reason to leave before.” The dwarf was still staring at her, a faint smile on his face. 

“I remember my first time leaving the blue mountains,” he said, “I think you’re handling it better than I did,” Fíli laughed, 

“Yeah, Kíli was clutching at Ma’s skirts and crying before we left,” Fíli teased, Kili’s face flushed bright red. 

“I was twenty!” he whined, Finny’s brow furrowed, 

“I’m twenty six” she said, tilting her head at them.  Kíli and Fíli blinked at her, 

“You… don’t look twenty six,” Fíli said after a moment, Finny laughed, cheeks washing in a rosy glow. 

“I know I look young for my age but really,”  Kíli and Fíli glanced at one another, 

“I thought you were seventy at least,” Finny choked out a laugh, 

“Seventy! That’s as old as my grandfather!” she cried, looking between the dwarves. 

“Hobbits do not age the same!” Balin called from further up the line, “She’s around your age  Kíli if I’m correct,” Finny’s gaze whipped back to Kili, 

“You’re seventy!” she gawked,  Kíli laughed brightly, 

“Seventy-seven,” he replied, 

“How old can you live to be?” she blurted, before slapping a hand over her mouth. “Sorry! That’s so rude, I’ve just— never met any dwarves.” Fíli smiled at her, 

“Don’t worry, we’ve never met hobbits either,” Fíli said, tossing a glance back at her, “We can live to be two hundred and fifty,” he explained, “So twenty is still a child. I’m assuming you’re nearing adulthood, by the way you look?” Finny nodded, 

“Yes, seven more years and I’m officially an adult.” she explained, “Hobbits reached adulthood at thirty-three,” 

“We reach adulthood at eighty-five, so Balin is right about us being similar in age,”  Kíli said grinning at her, she returned the smile, looking between the dwarves of the company. 

“I’m glad to have someone close,” she said, meeting Kili’s eyes. She hurriedly ducked his gaze, “In age I mean, close in age,” she corrected,  Kíli nodded along quickly, 

“Right! Right of course,” he turned away, clearing his throat  Kíli kicked his pony in the flank, sending him trotting forward toward Thorin. Fíli chuckled softly to him, taking a peek at the hobbit who had focused her eyes back into the saddle of her pony. 

“You said you're a carpenter?” Fíli asked, and the hobbit looked up to him. “ Kíli said,” Fíli supplied, nodding his head over at his brother. Finny nodded after a moment, 

“Yes, I’m an apprentice.” she explained, “What about you? Do you have a job or anything in the Blue Mountains?” Fíli nodded, 

“I worked as a smithie,” Fíli said, “Making weapons and such. Mum makes jewelry and stuff.” 

“Were you an apprentice?” Finny asked, nudging her pony so she would ride next to Fíli instead of behind him. Fíli shrugged, 

“Sort of, not anymore. Thorin taught me,” Fíli said, jerking his head up toward the dwarf in question, “He’s my uncle.” Finny looked between Thorin and Fíli before nodding, 

“I see the resemblance,” Fíli laughed, 

“Really?” he asked, “ Kíli I would see why you’d say that, but me?” She smiled softly,

“You have his eyes. And his bearing. You stand the same,” Finny replied, Fíli glanced back toward his Uncle, smiling at the thought. 

“You have your Uncle’s smile,” Fíli said after a brief silence. Finny’s mouth fell open slightly, a rosy color spreading over her face. “Not that he smiled much at us last night, but when he smiled at you I saw the same.” Finny smiled again, the same small crease in the corner of her eye the same as her uncle. 

Finny felt her fears easing as they rode and Fíli talked with her. He told her of his life in Ered Luin, of his mother and uncle, of his work, his hobbies, and his life on the road. 

Even if she didn’t know the road, the dwarves did. And they’d be there to show her. She’d be alright. In spite of being so far from home. They’d be alright. 

Three days later…

After three days of traveling, the halflings were grating on Thorin’s last nerves. They never stopped talking, at least the elder one didn’t. His inane chattering was wearing Thorin’s sleep deprived mind down to nothing. Gandalf claimed they were social creatures and simply trying to settle themselves but Thorin had had quite enough of their settling. 

“Finny,” he barked, the hobbit jumped, snapping the journal in her lap closed. 

“Yes?” She asked, firelight flickering in the lens of her glasses. 

“Take first watch,” he ordered, her face lit up at the prospect of being given a job to do within the company. The girl still didn’t understand that the first watch was reserved for the youngest or weakest of the company as others would still be awake. She wouldn’t be the first line of defense. 

“Ok!” Finny eagerly scampered over to the edge of the campsite, plopping herself down on a log. Thorin sighed, rubbing at his face before moving to find a seat back among the company. 

He made the schedule for the night watch before turning back to begin sharpening his knives. The company began to quiet as the night went on. Slowly the dwarves began to retire, and Thorin found himself becoming heavy with sleep as well. He stood, meaning to find a good spot to bed for the night when Finny came rushing back to the campsite, all but launching herself at Fíli. She latched onto Fíli’s arm immediately, shaking the dwarf. 

“Fíli! I hear something, in the woods—-“ she stammered, “it’s wolves, I can hear wolves howling,” fear flooded her voice, small body shaking as she clutched onto Fíli’s sleeve with a grip so tight her knuckles had turned a stark white. His nephew placed a hand over the hobbit’s, looking up to Thorin. 

They heard nothing. Finny looked between the dwarves, before her eyes landed on Thorin. “I’m not lying!” She pleaded, “please, I can hear wolves in the forest. A pack, they’re howling at each other. Can’t you hear them!” Thorin opened his mouth to speak before Bilbo hushed him, eyes glinting in fear. 

“I can hear them too,” he whispered, Thorin’s gaze narrowed at the hobbits before his eyes landed on their ears. 

‘Like an elf,’ The hobbits could hear things they couldn’t. 

“Fíli, Kili, Glóin, and Dwalin,” Thorin said, “set up a perimeter around the campsite. Keep your eyes out for wolves,” the dwarves nodded before spreading out. Fíli tried to go but Finny’s hand stayed fisted into his coat until Bilbo arrived at his niece’s side. 

“Here Finny, come here honey,” he said softly, gently untangling her from the blond dwarf. She barely acknowledged the elder hobbit as he pulled her to sit with him. Bilbo moved to tuck her head underneath his chin, rubbing soothing circles into her hand. 

Thorin stood unmoving for a moment, watching the pair. Genuine fear and panic was apparent in Finny’s eyes. She remained unseeing, sitting tensely at her Uncle’s side. 

“There’s no need to be afraid my dear Finny,” Gandalf said after a moment, “we do happen to be in the company of a hobbit who has battled a wolf and won,” Bilbo’s shot a glare in the direction of the wizard as Finny lifted her gaze slightly toward the wizard. 

“That is Shire gossip,” Bilbo frowned, voice sharp and agitated. “All stories that have been blown up far too large,” 

“You’ve killed a wolf?” Ori asked, Bilbo didn’t answer but Gandalf nodded. 

“Besides, I think the wolves have decided to return to their den for the night.” The wizard said, coy smile on his face. “Probably feel the danger, very sensible of them.” 

“You’re certain?” Bilbo asked, brushing a hand over Finny’s hair. 

“Oh yes!” Gandalf assured, chewing on his pipe, “they were overcome with the sudden urge to return home.” 

Magic. At least Thorin assumed by the wizard’s gaze. He had been given no reason to doubt the wizard, not about this at least. 

Discretely he waved Dwalin back, motioning for everyone to pull back in toward the campsite. Dwalin remained, seeming to be fine with continuing a silent vigil over the camp, and Thorin was thankful. Technically Finny’s watch had not ended before she came but clearly she was in no place to continue her watch. 

“How about a story then?” Gandalf asked, Bilbo huffed, blondish curls fluffing up. Finny didn’t seem to be listening, still and quiet. 

The dwarves went still, all watching the wizard in anticipation as he leaned forward. 

“There was a fell winter some many years ago now in the Shire. Terrible thing it was, as the hills were battered with snow and ice.” Gandalf began, “Food was scarce, as the winter came quick, cutting the harvest short. And our dear Bilbo made trips back and forth between houses to pass out food and drink to all of his neighbors to make sure that none would starve.” 

Thorin cast a glance at the hobbit who seemed to have opted not to listen, humming softly to his niece. Finny seemed to have relaxed slightly, sinking into his side. “The winter grew colder and the Brandywine froze over, so thick that it could hold the weight of a full grown horse.” The dwarves all remained attentive, eyes flitting between the wizard and the hobbits. “As all in the Shire know, hobbits are rather small, making wolves natural predators for them. And this winter, a pack crossed over the Brandywine river. They hunted together, picking off anything that was desperate enough to leave its home. Some poor hobbits were even dug out of their homes by the starved wolves, picked off one by one. As the winter ended, the pack left in search of a new food source.”  Kíli sucked in a sharp breath, “Our dear Bilbo is quite a stubborn fellow–” Finny huffed a laugh. “And continued to share his rations with those that he could.”

“But what of the wolf?” Ori asked, blinking curiously at the wizard, “You said Bilbo fought a wolf. Did he get caught?” 

“Our burglar! Caught?” Gandalf blanched teasingly, “Of course no! No, no, he is far too clever for that. Now, you must know that I was not present for any of this, and all of my information has come from various sources throughout the Shire…” 

“Gossip,” Bilbo snapped, but said nothing further. 

“From what I have been told,” Gandalf continued, “There was one wolf that remained in the Shire. Whether he was exiled by his pack, or simply got trapped on the other side of the Brandywine after it thawed I do not know. It was early in the spring, and there was a faunt playing not far from Bag End.” The wizard paused for dramatic effect as the company held their breath. “The wolf may have killed the child and eaten her, or dragged her off into the forest if not for our brave hobbit! He burst out of his home, placing himself firmly between the child and the wolf, then fearlessly slayed the great beast!” A cheer erupted in the camp as Bilbo scoffed, barking a painful laugh. 

“Slayed?” he asked incredulously, raising an irritated eyebrow at the wizard. “You’re making it sound like I battled the creature in some heroic fashion. It was no such thing,” Bilbo said, finally speaking at length for the first time in the story. “I was simply putting away my dishes when I heard her screaming. I acted on instinct alone and hit the dreadful beast with my cast iron. It was a lucky shot really. I was terrified for my life!” The dwarves began to laugh, 

“You hit it with a frying pan!” Bofur cried, laughing heartily,

“Cast iron,” Bilbo corrected, “Wouldn’t have killed the wolf if it was only a frying pan.” Abruptly Finny untangled herself from her Uncle, standing. 

“I’m quite tired, I think I am going to lie down.” She said rigidly, before hastening to the edges of the camp. 

Bilbo sighed, pinching at his brow. “Wake me for my watch,” he muttered. Thorin’s eyes followed the hobbit as he headed over to his niece, sitting down next to her still form. He glanced back over to the wizard, contemplating what had just unfolded. 

Slowly Thorin drifted toward Dwalin, his mind becoming set in what he now had to do. 

“The girl alright?” Dwalin asked, as Thorin arrived behind him, the king nodded, 

“Aye, she’s fine. I believe the wizard may have sent the wolves running,” Dwalin nodded, eyes flitting back to the landscape. “If you are to ever assign the watch, do not give Finny one.” Thorin said, Dwalin looked back up at him. 

“Aye, I won’t,” the warrior replied. Thorin gave a firm nod. He only did it for the girl’s own good. If she was scared of wolves, there was no way she could handle what other dangers Middle Earth had to give. 

‘For her own good,’ Thorin thought, casting one more eye over to the hobbits.

It would’ve been better if neither of them had ever walked out their door. 

It had been a week since the incident with the wolves, and Thorin had refused to give Finny a watch. At first he blamed it on the fact that she helped with dinner. Then he just flat out refused her. 

To say that she was angry was an understatement. But she couldn’t bring herself to be angry with the dwarf. In truth she was angry with herself. She’d been so frightened by a wolf that she’d become incapacitated. 

Thorin didn’t trust her anymore. Finny glared at the ground, as she stalked toward her bedroll. 

“Finny!” Gandalf called, she turned, eyes narrowing at the wizard.”Why don’t you come sit with me. He slid over on the log that she was sitting on patting the spot next to him. Begrudgingly she joined him, staring at her feet. The wizard was silent, the only sound between them was the inhale and exhale of Gandalf’s pipe. “When is your watch tonight?” he finally asked. Finny shuffled her feet, 

“Thorin won’t give me one.” she mumbled, “he doesn’t trust me.” She rubbed her eyes, “This was silly. I should've just stayed home.” Gandalf hummed,

“Did you know that your grandmother was scared of water?” he asked, Finny looked up at him, surprise etched in her features. “Terrified of it really. Rivers, lakes, even little streams, she was scared of it all for the longest time.” Finny gaped at him, 

“But I thought Grandma traveled all the way to Gondor!” She exclaimed, “If she was scared of water then…” Gandalf hummed, smiling down at the hobbit. 

“She did travel to Gondor,” he replied, “Through Rivendell and the Greenwood, through Rohan and the Westfold. Your grandmother went everywhere. And for a lot of it I do in fact believe she was terrified.” Finny fidgeted with her dress, memories of her grandmother passing through her consciousness. 

“I never thought she was scared of anything.” she said softly, “How did she go anywhere if she was so scared?” Gandalf smiled down at her warmly, 

“Courage is not the absence of fear, my dear girl, it is when we continue on in spite of fear that true courage is found.” 

Finny huffed a laugh, “I wish grandma were here. I think she wouldn’t have needed any convincing to get out the door.” Gandalf laughed softly, 

“She is here,” The wizard replied, “There is a reason I came to Bag End. She lives on in your uncle. And in you.” Finny looked over to the wizard, eyes misting over. “I thought you may want to share in an adventure with me.” she laughed, wiping her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here,” Finny snuffled, 

“I think I’m glad I’m here too” She replied, there was silence before finny spoke again. “I think grandma would’ve whipped these dwarves into shape.” Gandalf burst out into hearty laughter, 

“I believe you’re right my dear.” He chuckled, “We would already be at the mountain if Belladonna was here.” Finny giggled, clutching her stomach. 

“Thorin would even fear her!” Both wizard and hobbit descended into laughter, and good memories. 

Bilbo watched Finny with the wizard, a fond smile gracing his face. It was wonderful to hear her laughter again. His niece had been so sullen since the incident with the wolves. He knew she only wanted to help, and he couldn’t protect her from everything after all. It was only a nightly watch, there was no harm in it. So he would do what he needed to. 

He sucked in a deep breath, rising to his feet, making his way over to where the leader of their company was sitting. To say that he wasn’t intimidated by Thorin would be a lie. The dwarf had high standing, and a certain bearing about him that made the hobbit slightly nervous. Only slightly though. Bilbo Baggins would not be scared out of anything, especially when it came to the joy of his niece. She had suffered so much that he would do what he could to make sure she could still smile. 

Thorin looked up at him as he approached, (Bilbo had purposely walked louder so that he wouldn’t startle the dwarf). The hobbit looked to him, motioning the empty spot on the log next to Thorin. 

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, Thorin shook his head, sliding over. Bilbo nodded a thanks, sitting down next to the dwarf. “I noticed that you haven’t given Finny a watch in a while.” Thorin didn’t even move, the same even glare on his face. “She has exceptional hearing, and all she wants to do is help.” 

“She cannot wield a weapon,” Thorin said, Bilbo frowned, 

“You still give me a watch,” the hobbit retorted, 

“Fine. Until both of you can wield a sword, you don’t get a watch.” Thorin said. Bilbo sighed, resisting the urge to pinch his brow. They were silent for a moment before Thorin spoke again, “Is that all?” Bilbo glanced at the dwarf, before looking out into the wilderness. 

“Do you remember the story about the wolves that Gandalf told you?” Bilbo asked, Thorin snuck a glance over at the hobbit before nodding. “The girl in the story, the girl who was going to be eaten. That was Finny.” Bilbo rubbed at his neck. “She couldn’t have been more than five at the time. My sister had brought her over since the weather was finally nice, and she was in view of my window. I thought she’d be fine, I could see her the whole time while I was washing the dishes. I didn’t even know the wolf was coming until I heard Finny screaming. Still haunts me to this day. I couldn’t think clearly in any sort of way. All I knew is I couldn’t let Finny die.” Thorin was still, “Before I was able to hit the beast with my cast iron, its claws caught my back. I still have the scar.” Discreetly Thorin snuck a look over the hobbit, the sight of a pink gnarled scar creeping up from underneath his shirt. “The neighbors just looked on as I bled even when Finny started screaming and crying. I don’t blame them. It’s what any respectable hobbit would’ve done.” Bilbo snuffled, scratching at the scar on his neck. “And I just thought you should know.” 

He stood, brushing off his pants looking over to Thorin, “If you would reconsider giving her a watch it would mean the absolute world to her. She only wants to help.” Bilbo gave one last nod, “That is all,” Thorin didn’t answer, watching as the hobbit retreated. 

He found Finny sitting with Fíli and Kíli near the fire, engaged in a deep conversation with the brothers as Kíli enthralled the two of them with a story. Fíli didn’t seem to be listening, but only interjected to correct Kíli when he exaggerated too far. 

Finny grinned up at him as he took a seat next to her. 

“Uncle! Kíli was just telling me about the time that he took down a boar with a bow and arrow, can you believe it?” she asked, Bilbo chuckled, drawing his pipe out of his pocket. 

“Fascinating, darling,” he replied, 

“Not as cool as your story with the wolf,” Kíli replied, bright grin on his face, “But still, I thought it was daring,” Bilbo smiled at the young dwarf, 

“I’m sure it was,” Finny tucked herself into Bilbo’s side as Kíli resumed his story. She seemed content, laughing in all the right places in Kíli’s story which had sent the young dwarf alight. 

Bilbo sighed evenly, resting his chin on top of his niece’s head. As in all things she bounced back quickly. Finding joy in new places. Even if they could not please Thorin, not all resented their presence in the company. 

Chapter Text

Three days later…

Dwalin hadn’t been meaning to listen in on the conversation between Thorin and the hobbit but now that he had overhead it he couldn’t help but feel inclined to help the hobbits. 

He didn’t think either of them should be here per say but they were here whether he liked it or not. And the fact that neither of the halflings could wield a blade bothered him. They were sure to encounter more dangers on the road than wolves and he couldn’t in good conscience leave the two of them defenseless. 

Fíli had agreed to help him, readying himself as Dwalin called the younger of the hobbits over. 

“Yes Mister Dwalin?” She asked, cocking her head at him, “how can I be of service?” Finny cracked a crooked grin that reaffirmed to him that she was far too gentle a creature for the wilds. 

“Do you know how to fight with a blade?” He asked, crossing his arms down at Finny. She pursed her lips as if to muffle a laugh, 

“We do not have much need for weapons in the Shire,” she replied, adjusting her glasses on her nose. 

“But in the wild you will.” Dwalin replied, “so I am here to teach you.” Finny blinked at him, 

“Um… I have no sword. So I do not see how you would intend to teach me if I do not have a weapon,” 

“That’s why I’m here,” Fíli replied with a grin, moving to Dwalin’s side. He held up a dwarvish sword to her side, measuring it against her. “That one should do.” Tentatively Finny took the sword from his hands. 

“I can’t Fíli… I…” she hesitated holding the blade reverently in her hands, “I can’t take your sword,” Fíli scoffed lightly, 

“Trust me I’ve got loads, I can spare one. ‘Specially for you,” he replied, patting the hobbit’s shoulder. Finny’s smile was soft as she held the hilt of the blade downward, 

“Thank you Fíli, I will take good care of it,” 

“Alright, here, you’re already holding it wrong,” Dwalin said, taking the hobbit’s wrist in hand. They were far too small for his liking. He was worried she wouldn’t even be able to lift the blade in defense of herself. He corrected her hold on the blade, lifting her hands so that she’d hold it in front of her. “Fíli will show you the basics first. Then we’ll move onto you actually sparring.” Finny looked unsurely between the dwarves, 

“I suppose if that’s what you think is best,” she replied. Fíli pulled Finny aside, beginning to take the hobbit through the basic forms. 

She was clumsy with the blade but not as bad as he had been anticipating. She hadn't hit Fíli yet and the blade didn’t seem to be too heavy for her. 

Finny followed Fíli’s instructions to the letter, and the dwarf barely had to step in. Dwalin corrected her stance a few times, lecturing her about the importance. And while Finny seemed to be frustrated she didn’t give up. There was sheer determination in the hobbit’s eyes, even when she began to get tired, she followed Fíli’s example unrelentingly. 

They continued on like this for several days. Finny practiced the forms whenever she got the chance, even using a pencil to practice on her pony. She picked up quickly and Dwalin couldn’t help but feel a small glint of pride for the hobbit as she put aside her own ways and listened. Bilbo had been a little more reluctant but with Finny’s convincing they practiced together. Dwalin still found it mildly amusing at the sight of Finny in her dress with carefully embroidered pink flowers, and a dwarvish sword strapped to her back. 

Eventually Dwalin found himself satisfied with her sword forms, enough so that he moved onto the next phase. Once again when they had stopped for the night he called Finny over. 

“Give me your sword lassie,” he said, Finny frowned, but unclipped the sheath from her back and handed it over. “We’re gonna move onto the next part of your training,” Finny seemed unsure, watching the dwarf curiously but stuck around anyway. “Fíli is going to help me,” The blond dwarf toddled over, a large pillow shoved under his tunic, grinning over at Finny. The hobbit descended into a fit of giggles, clutching at her stomach. 

“Is Fíli trying to incapacitate me now?” she laughed, bending over and snorting. Dwalin sighed, it was going to be a long training session. 

“Pay attention Finny,” he reprimanded, the hobbit stood straight, bright smile still on her face. 

“What’s so funny?” Kíli asked, wandering over to them. Dwalin pinched the bridge of his nose. Now there was no way he was going to be able to keep the hobbit’s attention. Kíli snorted at his brother, “Put on a few stones already Fíli? I was wondering where all the rations were going,” 

“Hardy har,” Fíli replied, rolling his eyes at his brother. “For the record I’m helping Finny,” 

“Now that you’ve all finished interrupting,” Dwalin cut in, “We’re going to continue with the lesson before it’s dark.” Kíli continued his snickering, taking a seat on a rock not far off. “I’ve taken your sword, now how do you fight?” Dwalin asked, turning his sharp gaze to the hobbit. She hesitated looking between Dwalin and Fíli, 

“Um… I don’t?” she asked, Dwalin shook his head, 

“You have your fists!” Kíli called, Finny glanced down at her hands. 

“You want me to hit Fíli?” she asked, brows pinching together. Dwalin nodded, 

“If you do not have a sword, you still have one weapon left. Your hands.” Dwalin walked her through the forms, correcting her stances and positions. When she made a fist, she did it incorrectly and Dwalin instantly corrected her, lecturing her that she would break her hand if she hit people like that. 

“I haven’t hit anyone though,” Finny said, dropping her hands to her side. “At least not on purpose. I don’t want to hit Fíli,” Dwalin sighed, 

“Pretend that it’s not Fíli. Pretend he’s an orc,” the dwarf replied. Finny stared at Fíli for a moment, 

“I’ve never seen an orc so I don’t think that will work,” she said after a moment, Dwalin sighed, face pinching in agitation. 

“Just hit him,” he barked, Finny frowned, putting her hands on her hips. 

“What if I don’t want to,” she retorted. Dwalin glared at her, resisting the urge to yell at the hobbit. She was just as stubborn as any dwarrowdam he had ever met. “I’ll hurt him,” 

“No you won’t!” Fíli assured, “That’s why I’m wearing the pillow, you won’t hurt me honest. I want you to hit me.” Finny still wasn’t convinced, eyeballing the pillow Fíli was wearing. 

“Hit him like he said he didn’t like your carpentry!” Kíli yelled, Finny’s face fell, 

“You don’t like it?” she asked, Fíli shook his head, face falling as well, 

“No, no, no, I think it’s wonderful!” he assured, hurrying over to the hobbit and placing a hand on her shoulder, “It’s just pretend!” 

“Just hit him!” Dwalin barked, Finny jumped. She frowned, finally making a fist. “Strike him in his sternum,” The hobbit winced as Fíli stepped back, readying himself. Finny breathed in deeply before hurtling her fist forward into the pillow. Fíli didn’t even flinch as Finny pulled back, shaking out her hand. 

“That felt wrong,” She mumbled, Dwalin sighed. She was not a violent person at heart and hitting her friend genuinely seemed to bother her. He didn’t want to upset the hobbit but he had to make sure she could protect herself. 

“I know,” he neared Finny, taking a knee next to her. It wasn’t often he did this, but Finny was still a child after all. He couldn’t treat her as he might treat others. “Look Finny I know this is hard for you, but I push you because you have to know how to protect yourself. The road is dangerous, and the boys will tell you. You cannot rely on anyone but yourself, and you must be able to fight.” Finny looked sullen, but nodded. And deep in his heart, Dwalin knew she understood, and that she would listen to him. 

“I think I prefer the sword,” She said, offering him a small smile. Dwalin laughed softly, patting the hobbit’s shoulder. 

“Aye, we’ll practice with the sword again soon. First I want to teach you defense. You cannot have an offense if you have no good defense.” Finny nodded, “Here, I’ll show you a couple more forms and then we’ll go back to practicing.” The hobbit seemed to brighten, trotting over to Fíli’s side as he pulled the pillow out from underneath his shirt. She seemed happier about having to fight with her fists now that she wasn’t asked to hit anyone. 

Dwalin taught her all the proven methods of being able to disarm someone, and she picked them up quickly. Every time he suggested they might turn in Finny begged to continue, and he obliged her. Kíli had even jumped in to help, letting Finny practice disarming him. She’d gotten quite good, and Dwalin was glad Kíli had let her practice with him as Kíli was so much taller than her. 

Another week passed of their practice and Thorin returned to giving Finny a watch. It was still the very first watch of the night, but Dwalin was going to take what he could get. Finny had beamed a smile so bright at him that he thought he might go blind when Thorin had finally assigned her one. He didn’t know how anyone could get such joy out of something such as a nightly watch, but he was glad she was happy. 

When it was time to switch out, Finny went and retrieved Ori for his watch before pattering over to Dwalin’s side. 

“I wanted to thank you,” she said, Dwalin hummed, glancing at the hobbit. 

“Whatever for lass,” he asked, returning to the knife he was sharpening. 

“For teaching me to fight.” She said, “I know I still have a long way to go, but I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without your and Fíli’s help. So thank you,” Dwalin gave her a small smile, 

“You’re welcome,” he replied, patting her knee. “Now go sharpen your sword, you know what I say–” 

“You’re no good with a dull blade!” she chirped, “I know, I will. Thank you!” The hobbit scurried off to Fíli and Kíli, pulling out her supplies to sharpen her blade as Fíli gave her some pointers. Dwalin chuckled to himself, turning his attention back to his work. 

He’d make a warrior out of that hobbit yet. 

Even after a few weeks on the road, Finny still had trouble sleeping at night sometimes. It was too quiet, and yet still too loud. There were too many new sounds for her to be able to sleep completely soundly.

Many of the company had already settled in for the night, sleeping soundly on their bed rolls. She was sitting with Kíli, busy sketching in her journal as he repaired arrows out of his quiver. It was peaceful now, and she was thankful no one had become too annoyed with her relentless scratching. In fact Kíli had even claimed it soothed him. Not that she believed him but it was sweet anyway. 

She glanced up from her sketchbook as her uncle rose from his bedroll, stretching. They were still both adjusting, but she was glad he’d gotten a few hours of sleep anyway. The elder hobbit wandered over to his pony, petting her head and cooing at the creature. Finny laughed softly, 

“He sure seems to like that pony for having never ridden,” Kíli said softly, leaning over to her. Finny laughed again, 

“He’s named her Myrtle. My Uncle has a soft spot for all animals, even if he is a bit intimidated by horses.” she replied, Kíli chuckled, shuffling closer to her. Their heads jerked up a loud echoing scream that emanated suddenly from the forest beyond. Finny swallowed as Bilbo whipped back to look at them, 

‘What was that?” he hissed, pointing out at the woods, 

“Orcs,” Kíli replied, sitting forward, listening. Thorin, who had been dozing off to the side, jerked away at the mention of the foul creatures. 

“Throatcutters,” Fíli added, “There’ll be dozens of them crawling the lowlands,” Finny stiffened, hand drifting to her sword, sitting not far from her bag. “They come in the night, when everyone’s asleep. Quick and quiet. No screaming, just lots of blood.” Thorin stood, 

“Dwalin, take perimeter,” He ordered, Thorin himself was now holding a sword, glaring down at his nephews. “You think this is all just a funny joke?” he demanded. Finny looked up at Thorin, not missing the rage in his gaze as Fíli and Kíli had yet to grab their weapons. “You know nothing of the world,” The elder dwarf stalked off to the cliff’s edge as Kíli’s gaze dropped. 

“Do not mind him laddie,” Balin said, walking toward the younger members of their company, “Thorin has more cause to hate orcs than most.” 

Orcs. They were creatures that had been brought up often during her training but she didn’t understand what they were. Not yet. By the way they were spoken as if they were a curse, she could only imagine what they were. 

Balin looked over to Thorin before he began to speak, “After the dragon took the lonely mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had gotten there first.” Finny looked at Thorin, his back to her. “Moria had been taken by a legion of orcs, lead by the most vile of their race. Azog, the defiler. The giant gundabad orc had sworn to end the line of Durin.”  Fíli shifted uncomfortably next to her, “he began by beheading the king,” Finny sucked in a sharp breath, knee beginning to bounce. “Thrain, Thorin’s father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing. Taken prisoner or killed we did not know,” Finny’s chest tightened, knee shaking. Kíli’s hand reached, landing on her knee. Gently he smoothed his palm over her knee, tossing her a small smile, face laced with concern. Finny gave him a tiny smile, but she was sure it came out more like a grimace. Kíli shifted even closer, lacing their hands together. He squeezed her hand, before relaxing his fingers. “We were leaderless,” Finny breathed in deeply, squeezing Kíli’s hand back. “Defeat and death were upon us.” Balin’s misty eyes turned toward Thorin, “that is when I saw him. A young dwarf prince, facing down the pale orc. He stood alone facing this terrible foe. His armor rent… wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield.” Finny eyes flitted back to Thorin, the image of the dwarf a hundred years younger came to her mind, the oaken branch on his arm. “Azog the defiler learned that day, the line of Durin is not so easily broken.” The elder dwarf looked briefly down to Fíli and Kíli who met Balin’s gaze. “Our forces rallied, and we drove the orcs back. The enemy… was defeated. But there was no feast. No song that night. For our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few survived.” Finny glanced between Balin and Dwalin, the warrior having gone stone silent. “And I thought to myself then,” Balin continued, looking back to Thorin. “There is one I could follow. There is one… that I could call King.” Finny looked back between Fíli and Kíli, the situation dawning on her. 

“You’re a prince,” she whispered, looking up at Kíli. He scoffed, face going red. 

“It’s just a title,” he said, brushing it off. “Fíli is the one who’s important not me,” he looked at her, trying to check her reaction. “Do you not have kings in the shire?” Finny laughed softly, running into Kili’s shoulder in the process. 

“We don’t have monarchies in the shire,” she replied, “we have a mayor though. At least in Hobbiton. That’s where we came from. But when he’s all done the people will choose a new one.” Kíli sighed, 

“Sounds nice, being an heir is so much pressure,” he muttered, voice low enough that Fíli wouldn’t hear him. “Course Fíli bears the brunt of it but there’s all these expectations and all these people looking on. They’re all tired of being poor, but we’re just as poor as the rest of them.” 

“Is that why we’re going to Erebor?” She asked, matching his tone. Kíli nodded, 

“Partly I guess,” he replied, “I mean in Ered Luin it gets hard to find work sometimes. If we reclaim Erebor no one will go hungry again.” Finny nodded, going quiet for a moment. 

“I wish all the food in the world for you,” she whispered, Kíli blinked at her. Finny blushed, “It's something hobbits say. We’re very lucky that we don’t go hungry very often. We eat seven times a day after all,” she explained, “so it’s like wishing good fortune or blessings upon someone.” Kíli smiled softly at her, squeezing her hand. 

“Then I wish all the food in the world for you too Finny,” he said, smiling down at her. Finny laughed, dropping her head to his shoulder. 

Chapter Text

After that night Finny found herself staying by Kíli’s side. They rode next to one another, they ate together, they practiced her sword forms together. And for the next month, wherever Finny went, Kíli was not far behind. For the last several days it poured. Finny normally didn’t mind the rain but after three days worth of being rained on she’d gotten a bit tired of being wet and cold. 

Thankfully the sun finally began to shine, and her clothes began to dry. The plains they covered were of the greenest grass she’d ever seen, the plains beginning to curve into mighty hills. If she went on this trip for nothing else, it would have to be the scenery. She could’ve never have imagined a world quite like this. 

Finally the company slowed to a halt as Thorin pulled up at his pony. They’d arrived at some sort of ruins, the crumbled remains of a house within view of her place toward the very back of the company’s train. 

“We’ll camp here for the night,” Thorin called, dismounting from his pony. The other dwarrow quickly followed, beginning to unpack their gear. “Fíli, Finny, Kíli, look after the ponies,” The leader ordered. 

The dwarrow one by one unpacked their gear, passing the bridles of their ponies to Finny, Fíli, and Kíli. “Oin, Gloin,” 

“Aye?” The elder of the two called to the leader, 

“Get a fire going,” Thorin ordered, 

“Right ya are,” Gloin replied, soon enough they had collected all of the ponies leading them out into the forest and tying them up on the forgotten posts. Fíli and Kíli had turned to sparring while Finny wrote about the past days adventures in her journal. Granted there had not been much to report as it had simply rained and rained. The sun dipped away into the sky, casting the moonlight through the forest. 

Fíli and Kíli’s sword play soon turned to rough housing, having the two brothers rolling around on the ground. Finny found herself laughing at the two brothers as Kíli sat triumphantly on top of his older brother. 

“You’re suffocating me!” Fíli yelled, shoving Kíli and managing to kick his brother off of him. Kíli rolled to his feet, walking over to Finny, and plopping down next to her. Finny snapped her journal shut, eyeballing the dwarf. He’d gotten in the nasty habit of trying to peep in on her drawings, always wanting to see. 

“What are you drawing?” he asked, an innocent grin on his face. Finny tried to frown at him but couldn’t manage him, with a face too soft and wanting for her to be truly frustrated with him. 

“It’s not done yet,” she replied, eventually opening the journal and passing it over to him. It was a drawing she’d started a couple days ago of Ori, since he’d agreed to sit for her to draw him. 

“This is really good!” he exclaimed, “Looks just like him. Though I fear you may have made Ori too handsome. You’ll have all the dwarrowdams swarming him.” Finny laughed incredulously, taking the journal back, scrutinizing the drawing, 

“I see no such thing.” she replied, “I think you’re just jealous I drew Ori and not you,” Kíli huffed, rolling his eyes, 

“Jealous?” Fíli called, laughing, “Kíli? Never!” Finny snorted, as Kíli’s face turned a bright red. In truth she’d actually drawn Kíli a number of times. (He was always sitting next to her when they stopped to rest.) She just wasn’t sure if she was ready to show him yet. “If you sit still now, I’ll draw you while we have the firelight.” Kíli brightened instantly, scrambling to sit in front of her. She laughed, “back up a little, I can’t draw if you’re gonna be three inches from my face.”

 Kíli’s face went an even deeper shade of red, with Finny’s cheeks dusting a light shade of pink now realizing their closeness. Kíli scooted back a couple paces before settling himself. Drawing him was easier than drawing Ori, as she’d already drawn Kíli several times. The sketch came easy and soon she’d developed his face on the paper. “You’re actually easier to draw,” she murmured, “You’ve got less of a beard than Ori.” She glanced up at Kíli, her face falling at the deep seated pain etched into his features. “Kíli?” she asked softly, brow stitching together painfully. 

“She didn’t mean anything but it,” Fíli said, moving to his brother, “She doesn't know. They don’t have beards,” Finny dropped the journal, moving toward them. 

“Know what?” she asked, pulling at her dress. She hadn’t meant to hurt Kíli’s feelings, she tried to run back the conversation in her mind and was unable to come up with anything that may have upset him. 

“Our beards mean a great deal to us,” Fíli said finally, looking up at the hobbit who was clearly distraught. Fíli knew that she would’ve never done anything to intentionally hurt one of them, but their cultures were so different it was bound to happen that she would say something accidentally that would hurt someone. “It’s a symbol of honor. It’s individuality and pride, and a sign of great strength.” Finny sank to her knees in front of Kíli. 

“I’m so sorry Kíli, I didn’t know,” she said softly, throat threatening to close up, “I don’t think you’re any less, beard or no beard. No hobbit was ever any less for a lack of facial hair,” Kíli laughed softly, “Besides, I don’t think having a beard makes you a good warrior, or makes you strong.” she said, Kíli met her eyes, “I like you with the scruff, if you had a full one it would hide too much of your handsome face.” Without much warning he drew her into an embrace. Finny stilled against him before wrapping her arms around his back, tucking her face into his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry I reacted the way I did,” he whispered, “You’re far too sweet of a person for anything like that,” Finny pulled away, smiling softly at him. 

“There’s no need for any apology. If anyone needs to apologize it would be me–” 

“And you already have, and I accept it. Glady.” Kíli replied, his hand lingering on hers for a moment longer before he finally pulled away. Fíli coughed, turning on his heel. 

“I’m going to go check on the ponies,” the blond said before rushing off into the forest before either of them could protest. The full moon was high in the sky now, casting a pale glow over the pair of them. She looked away from Kíli, swallowing hard, tucking a curl behind her ear. 

“Are people really so terrible to you about your beard?” she whispered after a moment, “You looked so distraught, and I…” Kíli sighed, looking off past her. 

“I… children can be cruel I guess,” He muttered, “I was always of a different build than most dwarrow I suppose. And I still am.” he finally met her gaze. “I know that doesn’t mean much to you since you’ve only seen thirteen of us, but most dwarrow look like Gloin, or Bofur. Short, thick, and sturdy. But when I was a child, no matter how much Mum and Uncle Thorin would feed me I just shot up like a weed. I never really started to fill out till recently.” Finny paused, watching Kíli’s face for the minute changes as he spoke. She’d never really thought about his appearance in comparison to the other dwarrow till now. Now that she’d come to think of it, Kíli was one of the taller members of the company. But Thorin was tall also, it would make sense that the taller gene would be in his blood. “My father died before I was born. Before my mum even really knew she was going to have me. And so… there were people that questioned my parentage.” Kíli ducked her gaze, looking off into the forest. “They called me a half elf bastard,” he whispered, “I was long and tall, and had no beard to show for it. They said I wasn’t a true dwarf, and that I would never be a true heir of Durin,” Finny covered her mouth, 

“Oh Kíli,” she murmured, eyes misting over with tears, Kíli offered her a weak smile, 

“Course none of it’s true,” he said, “My father was always my father. Mum says I have his eyes. And like you said, not having a beard ever made me any less. I’ll always be a son of the house of Durin.” Finny nodded, lips twitching upward into a smile. She reached out, placing her hand over Kíli’s, 

“I’m sorry for all of it,” she said softly, “No child should ever have to be shunned for such things.” Kíli squeezed her hand gratefully. He opened his mouth, 

“Kíli!” Fíli yelled from within the forest, “Finny!” Their gazes’ met before they hurriedly pulled away from one another, stumbling to their feet. They rushed into the forest, finding Fíli standing in the middle of the ponies. 

“We have a problem,” He said, looking at the two of them. “We only have fourteen ponies,” Finny blinked, brow furrowing, 

“That can’t be right. It’s not like they could’ve just left. They were all tied down!” 

“I don’t think they walked off,” Kíli said, grabbing her shoulder and steering her gaze toward a downed tree. It looked as if the tree had been torn out of the ground, roots sticking up high into the air. 

“Uh oh,” she murmured, 

“Daisy and Lori are missing,” Fíli said, moving further into the forest with Kíli and Finny at his heels. 

“You mean that something took them,” Finny said as they passed another uprooted tree. “Something big,” she murmured, running her fingers over the tree bark. 

“Hey!” Fíli hissed, “There’s a light,” he said, pointing off into the forest. They all ducked forward, moving toward the source. 

“What is it?” Finny asked softly, there was harsh laughter emanating from the fire along with heavy footfalls. 

“Trolls,” Kíli snarled, the brothers hurtled forward without warning, rushing toward the firelight. Finny hurried after, until heavy footfalls echoed behind her. She plastered herself against a tree as a troll lumbered past carrying two of their ponies until his massive arms. Her eyes widened as she saw the pink snout of her Uncle’s pony Myrtle. 

“He’s got Myrtle and Minty!” she hissed, rushing toward the brothers. “I think they’re going to eat them, we’ve got to do something.” She paused, listening to the trolls talk. “They’re mountain trolls,” She realized, straightening slightly. “Big… slow…” 

“Oy! That’s my grog!” one of the trolls cried, a coy smile crept across her face as she eyed the firelight. 

“Stupid,” she turned, “You two, be right behind me. I’m going to cut open the pen.” Before either of the brothers could answer she had run off into the forest. There were three of them, big, ugly, and disgusting. 

The trolls were crowded around a large cauldron, where by the smell of it, something awful was cooking. 

“Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey! Don’t it look like mutton again tomorrow!” One of the trolls rumbled, 

“Quit yer grippin’!” another snapped, “These ain’t sheep! These is west nags,” 

“Oh I don’t like ‘orse, never ‘ave,  never will,” the third whined, 

“Better than leathery old farmer! I’m still pickin’ bits of' em out a me teeth,” the first said, Finny had overestimated the distance between the edge of the forest and the trolls as she had been creeping along the tee line for several minutes now. The second sneezed hard into the pot, making a loud crying noise. 

“Oh that’s lovely isn’t it! A floater!” The first exclaimed, stirring the phlegm in with gusto. Finny grimaced, ignoring the trolls and making for the ponies. They were tied up in a pen, all still there thankfully. 

She reached behind her to draw her sword– her sword! Finny sucked in a harsh breath, pressing her fists to her forehead. She’s taken off the sheath and sword in the clearing when she’d gone to draw since the sheath had been digging into her ribs. How could she have taken it off! Dwalin was going to kill her. 

Finny growled to herself, moving to the ropes. She had to untie them by hand for she had no other choice. She pulled and tore at the ropes, trying with all her might but the rope was of the make of men. Too thick for her small fingers and the trolls had tied too tight of a knot for her to be able to pull apart. One of the trolls snuffled again causing Finny’s gaze to jerk over to them. The troll pulled a handkerchief from his belt, revealing a long thin blade. She narrowed her gaze, eyeing the blade. 

‘Big, slow, stupid.’ With silent feet, she crept toward the troll, fingers twitching for the blade. She finally had made it behind the troll, reaching to unclip the blade from his belt. She jumped back as the troll stood to scratch his bottom, she wrinkled her nose, swallowing down nausea. The troll sat back down, making an awful gasping noise as he went to sneeze again. Before Finny could realize what was happening the troll had grabbed her in his meaty hand instead of his handkerchief and blew his nose right down into her dress. 

Finny blinked as the troll pulled back from her, yelping. Her curls were now soaked in troll snot as was her dress. 

“AGH! Blimey Bert!” The troll cried, “Look what's come out me ‘ooter!” The trolls were now goggling down at her, big thick brows furrowing at the tiny creature the troll now held in his hand. “It’s got arms and legs and everything!” Finny began to wiggle, moving to wipe the troll snot out of her eyes. 

“What is it?” Bert asked, 

“I don’t know!” the other replied, “But I don’t like the way it wriggles around!” The troll dropped her instantly as she tried to move again, shaking his hands and wailing. She hurriedly stumbled to her feet, pushing her hair out of her face. 

“What are you?” Bert asked, “An oversized squirrel?” Finny coughed, stammering, 

“I’m a burglar– A hobbit!” she exclaimed, 

“A burgla-obbit?” Bert asked, leaning down to eye her. 

“Can we cook it?” one of the trolls asked, moving to poke her. Finny jumped out of the way, dodging the fat fingers. 

“We can try!” The troll attempted to grab her again but she dodged, scrambling away from them.

“It wouldn’t make more than a mouthful! Not when it’s skinned and boned!” She yelped as she jumped back from fat troll fingers, 

“Perhaps there are more burgla-hobbits round these parts! Maybe enough to make a pie!” Finny scrambled as she tried to make her away around the trolls, ducking and weaving as they tried to grab her. 

Her legs were snatched out from underneath her as the troll grabbed her ankles and hoisted her up into the air. Finny yelped, grabbing her dress instantly, trying to plaster it up against her legs. 

“Gotcha ya little fella!” the troll cried triumphantly, “Are there any more of you hiding about?” 

“Uh– nope!” Finny replied, looking around, “No one but me,” 

“She’s lying!” one troll cried, 

“No I’m not!” she yelled indignantly, 

“Hold her toes over the fire! Make her squeal!” Bert shouted. Without warning Kíli burst out from the bushes, slicing his sword into the troll’s leg. The troll screamed, dropping to the ground. 

“Drop her!” Kíli roared, 

“You what?” one of the trolls asked, 

“I said!” Kíli yelled, “Drop her,” he twirled his sword, steading his feet. The troll hurled her at the dark haired dwarf, he dropped his sword instantly, opening his arms to catch her. Kíli closed his arms around her, falling onto his back. He quickly rolled over, hand going up to cup her cheek. “Are you alright?” he asked, voice soft. Finny blanched, 

“Uh huh,” she murmured, the company burst from the forest in a flurry of swords and axes, making patchwork of the troll’s legs. Her gaze jerked back over to the ponies, “A knife I need a knife, hurry!” Kíli instantly pulled from his belt, handing it to her. Finny shot him a smile before scrambling to her feet and dashing over to the ponies. She hurriedly cut the ponies loose, herding them off away from the fight. In the frenzy of it all, Finny didn’t spot the trolls coming up behind her. 

She cried out as the large hand closed tightly around her waist. The trolls strung her out between their fat hands, leaving her staring at the dwarves. 

“Finny!” Kíli cried, trying to run for her, but Thorin stopped him. 

“Lay down your arms!” The troll yelled, “or we rip her's off!”

“Thorin please!” Her Uncle cried, pulling at the dwarf’s coat. Finny whimpered, panting heavily as she stared down at Thorin. She was hoping the dwarf could read her pleas without a word passing her lips. Thorin glared up at her before throwing his sword down into the dirt. The dwarrow followed suit with their leader, tossing their weapons down. 

The trolls were quick to tie them up, tossing half of the company into burlap sacks, while they tied the other half to a spit. 

“Don’t bother cooking them!” One of the trolls exclaimed, “Let’s just sit on them and squash them to jelly,” 

Finny’s throat closed. If they died now, it was her fault. 

“They should be sauted!” Bert replied, “And sprinkled with sage,” 

“Is that really necessary?” Dori shouted from the spit, 

“Ooh that does sound nice,” another troll said, the dwarrow were clamoring, shouting obscenities at the trolls and demanding to be untied. 

“Never mind the seasoning, we don’t got all night! Dawn ain't far off, so let's get a move on. I don’t fancy being turned ta stone.” She felt her uncle shift beside her before he struggled his way to his feet, despite being tied up. 

“Wait!” The elder hobbit shouted, “You are making a terrible mistake!” The trolls all looked down at him. 

“You can’t reason with them, they're halfwits!” Dori hollered, 

“Half-wits!” Bofur called, “Then what does that make us!” 

“Uh, I mean with the seasoning,” Bilbo stammered, looking between the giants, 

“What about the seasoning?” the troll demanded, 

“Well have you smelt them?” Bilbo asked, clearly settling into his plan, “You’re gonna need more than sage to plate this lot up.” The dwarrow began to yell, hollering for Bilbo to take his words back. Finny sighed, clearly they didn’t realize what her uncle was trying to do. 

“Shut up and let him talk!” One of the trolls barked, Bilbo swallowed, 

“Uh, the secret to uh— cooking dwarf is– um…” 

“Yes come on?” Bert demanded, 

“It’s uh–” 

“Tell us the secret!” 

“Yes! I’m telling you the secret!” Bilbo hissed, agitated, the hobbit paused, looking down at the dwarves, “The secret is too… skin them first!” Finny sighed, dropping her head. Unfortunately under pressure her Uncle couldn’t come up with anything else. 

“Tom get my filleting knife,” Bert ordered, Tom lumbered off. The dwarrow began shouting again, promising to strangle the hobbit when they were free. 

“What a load of rubbish!” one troll hollered, “I’ve eaten plenty with skins on, boots and all!” With a big meaty hand the troll grabbed Bombur off the pile. “Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf! Nice and crunchy!” 

“Not that one he’s infected!” Finny yelped, struggling to her feet, just as the troll began to lick at the end of Bombur’s beard. 

“You wot?” The troll asked, holding Bombur up, 

“He got worms…” Finny began, struggling for the next words, “In his tubes,” The troll yelped, chucking Bombur back into the pile. 

“In fact they all have!” Bilbo added, “They’re in-infested with parasites. It’s a terrible business. I wouldn’t risk it, I really wouldn’t.” Finny nodded along vehemently with her uncle. 

“Parasites, did he say parasites?” Oin asked, looking over at Kíli who had a betrayed look on his face, 

“We don’t have parasites!” Kíli cried, “You have parasites!” Bilbo sighed, rolling his eyes as the dwarrow clamored. Thorin’s eyes alighted in understanding, kicking Kíli in the shoulder. The dwarf stopped instantly at his Uncle’s prodding. 

“I’ve got… parasites as big as ma arm,” Oin began, 

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

“We’re riddled!” Nori called, 

“Yes, we are!” Ori added, 

“What would you have us all do then? Let them go?” Bert demanded, Bilbo cocked his head, 

“Well…” 

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to?” Bert snapped, “This ferret is taking us for fools!” 

“Ferret!” Bilbo snapped, 

“Fools?” Tom asked, 

“The dawn will take you all!” Gandalf cried, the morning sunlight casting an ethereal glow over the wizard. 

“Who’s that?” Bert asked, 

“No idea,” Tom replied, 

“Can we eat him too?” The third added, with a swift strike of his staff the wizard split the rock in two, sending sunlight pouring into the clearing. The trolls screeched in anguish as the light touched their skin, crackling and breaking as the foul creatures turned to stone. A relieved cheer went out through the clearing from the dwarrow. 

Gandalf freed Thorin first as Finny sank to her knees in her relief. They would all live to see another day. 

The dwarrow began to free one another and Finny let her gaze wander over the stone trolls. 

“What in blazing Valar were you thinking!” Thorin roared, grabbing her arm. She stumbled back, trying to pull away from the dwarf. 

“Thorin…what?” She quailed back under his fury, the dwarf’s blue eyes ablaze with anger. She squeaked as Thorin squeezed her wrist tighter, 

“You could have died!” He thundered, “And for what? To get caught? Not once, but twice!” She dropped her gaze from his, chin quivering. 

“I was only trying to help,” She whispered, twisting against Thorin’s hand. The dwarf didn’t hear her, lip twitching in anger. 

“I have never willingly laid down arms to an enemy.” he snarled lowly, “Never until this day.” A sob burst out of her throat as she finally pulled herself away from the dwarf, clutching her hands to her chest. 

“I was only trying to help!” she cried, she choked down another sob bubbling up in her throat. She turned on her heel, running off into the forest. 

She ran, and ran. She ran until her lungs hurt, and she could no longer contain her tears. 

She hated him. And she hated herself even more. 

She slowed as she reached a shallow stream. She sank to her knees in the cool water, letting it pool around her dirty dress, washing over her skin. 

The tears slowed, but the pain and fear did not ease. 

Why had she even come in the first place? She should have never walked out her door. 

She didn’t turn to look as footsteps approached, keeping her eyes fixed on the churning water. Her uncle came to crouch down next to her, gingerly running a knuckle over her cheek. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked softly, Finny swallowed around a lump in her throat, shaking her head. Bilbo nodded, pulling her to his chest, pressing a kiss to her damp brow. “I’m so glad you’re safe darling,” Finny whimpered, clutching at her Uncle’s coat. She wanted to tell him everything she was thinking. That it would come out in words he could understand but there was nothing Finny could say now. All there was was tears, and they came in fierce bouts of shuddering sobs as she clung to her uncle. He soothed her, stroking a gentle hand over her hair, rocking her back and forth.  

Eventually the tears stopped, and Finny’s energy was spent. Bilbo pulled back, looking her over, “let’s get you clean, alright?” She nodded, allowing him to help her shaking fingers to pull out her braided crown, letting the brown curls fall in a curtain around her face. 

He rinsed her hair out in the stream water, and even though it was cold Finny didn’t complain. She didn’t have the energy. 

Once she was clean they walked back to the camp, Finny trailing droplets of water as they went. Thorin was nowhere to be found, and for once Finny was thankful the dwarf wasn’t around. 

She bent down by her pack, in search of new clothing. She’d only packed one extra dress. A coat was draped over her shoulders and she turned. Kíli was standing there smiling awkwardly as he adjusted his coat over her shoulders. 

“You looked cold,” he said after a moment, “keep it for now, Fíli’s warmer than forge so I won’t need it.” Finny clutched at the fur coat, staring at the dwarf. 

“Thank you,” she choked out, Kíli’s brow pressed together, hand hovering over her shoulder. He eventually retracted his fingers, 

“You’re welcome,” he replied, before walking off. Finny watched him go for a moment before she gathered her fresh clothing and went to change. It wasn’t long before Thorin returned and led the company up toward where the trolls may have come from. Half of the company entered the troll cave but Finny had had quite enough of the awful creatures. Instead she stood at the edge of the clearing in the woods, pulling at the strap that attached her sheath to her back. 

She doubted now she’d ever remove the sheath again. She’d paid too heavily for her carelessness. Kíli was hovering not far from her, casting her quick glances. She knew he wanted to speak to her about everything that had happened but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. Not yet. Her tongue felt like cotton in her mouth as she rocked back and forth on her feet. 

The dwarrow emerged from the troll cave, armed with new elvish blades and Gandalf followed them out. 

Something snapped in the distance and her head jerked up, head tilting as she listened. There was a fierce pattering of feet, and the dragging of wood.

“Something’s coming,” she murmured, body beginning to move of its own accord, “Something’s coming! Arm yourselves!”

Chapter Text

The dwarrow began to shout, closing their ranks and drawing their weapons. 

“Thieves!” A voice shouted, “Fire! Murder!” A sled pulled by a team of large strong rabbits burst from the tree line with a screaming man aboard it. Gandalf sighed in relief, dropping his sword to his side. 

“Radagast the Brown! What on earth are you doing here?” Finny let her sword drop to her side. She remembered the name Radagast, Gandalf had mentioned him in passing before when they had had time for stories.  The dwarrow backed down from the other wizard, sheathing their swords. 

“I was looking for you Gandalf!” Radagast replied, “Something’s wrong, something’s terribly wrong,” The brown wizard hesitated, 

“Yes?” Gandalf asked, brow furrowing. Finny turned, glancing at Kíli who was hovering at her side, body slightly in front of hers as he eyed the brown wizard. Radagast opened his mouth before shutting it again, his hands flitted around his face, humming. 

“Oh just give me a moment! I had a thought and now I’ve lost it!” he fretted, “It was right– right here on the tip of my tongue!” the wizard tapped his bottom lip, looking off before he turned back to Gandalf, face puckering. “Oh, it’s not a thought at all,” Radagast opened his mouth and Gandalf reached in, pulling out an insect. “It’s a stick insect,” Kíli wrinkled his nose. Gandalf deposited the insect on a tree before guiding Radagast off into the forest so that the wizards could converse in private. 

Thorin was agitated, pacing the length of the clearing as he glared at where the wizards were speaking. 

“What do you suppose they’re talking about?” Kíli whispered, leaning to her. She glanced at him, shrugging, 

“I dunno, but if something is wrong I suppose it’s beyond our understanding.” she replied, “They reign as guardians over Middle Earth, I only hope nothing is too amiss.” Kíli nodded, glancing back at the wizards. His eyes flitted back to her, 

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, before she could answer a screeching howl echoed through the trees. Finny instantly lurched toward Kíli grabbing onto arm. Swiftly the dwarf had tucked her into his side, gripping her hand tightly. 

“Wolves?” Bilbo asked, looking among the leaves frantically, “Are there wolves out here?” 

“Wolves?” Bofur replied, “That is no wolf,” A scream caught in Finny’s throat as a snarling warg appeared over the crag, mouth foaming and dripping. The great beast leapt forward, tackling Bifur to the ground. Thorin was quick to draw his new elvish sword, slashing the blade through the beast’s neck, severing its head. She grimaced at the dark blood now staining the ground surrounding the corpse. Kíli grabbed her, shoving her behind him as he drew an arrow in his bow, firing at a warg that had crept up behind Thorin. In her panic she hadn’t even seen the beast. With precision that only came with years of practice Kíli shot an arrow straight into the wargs skull. The beast attempted to stand but it was quickly struck back down by Dwalin’s sword. 

“Warg scouts,” Thorin snarled, ‘Which means an orc pack is not far behind,” 

“Orc pack!” Bilbo asked sharply, 

“Who did you tell about your quest beyond your kin,” Gandalf demanded, stalking toward Thorin, 

“No one,” Thorin replied angrily, 

“Who did you tell!” Gandalf roared, 

“No one I swear!” Thorin bellowed back, “What in Durin’s name is going on here,” he hissed, 

“You are being hunted,” the wizard replied, 

“We have to get out of here,” Dwalin said, 

‘We can’t!” Ori cried, “We have no ponies, they bolted off!” Finny’s gaze snapped back to Thorin’s, her face etched in fear. The dwarf met her eyes, and for a fleeting moment she thought she saw some fear deep in the king’s eyes. 

“I’ll draw them off,” Radagast said after a moment, coming up next to a sled. 

“These are Gundabad Wargs,” Gandalf replied incredulously, Radagast smiled wryly back at the gray wizard, 

“These are Rhosgobel Rabbits,” he replied, “I’d like to see them try,” The wizard was quick to jump onto his sled, racing off into the forest. 

“All of you follow me, and stay together!” Gandalf ordered. The dwarrow fell in without much argument. The wizard led them out of the forest into open hills. He stopped them behind a large stack of rocks, watching Radagast race around the fields with a pack of orcs on his tail. There were at least thirty of the creatures riding on giant angry wargs. As soon as Gandalf had deemed it safe he ordered them to move and they all took off down the hill, adrenaline feeding into their mad dash. Thorin had quickly taken point, leading them up the crest of a hill through the grass behind another cropping of rocks. 

They all skidded to a halt as the wargs raced past higher up onto the hill, 

“Stay together,” Gandalf ordered, “This way! RUN!” They continued on like, trying to dodge wargs and Finny for the life of her could not figure out where Gandalf might be leading them. The only sound now was the rushing wind and the beating of her own heart between her ears. They landed behind another cropping of rocks, stopping only for a moment to wait for the wargs to pass before Gandalf urged them forward. It seemed the wizard had some sort of plan because his movements were not random, he was leading them somewhere. 

And she might have guessed it. Had she been paying attention to her senses. The thrum of ancient magic in the air. Pulsating in glowing waves of light in the back of her mind. 

They sprinted down the hill, stumbling off to the right as the wargs came dangerously close to their position. They hid behind another cropping of rocks, breathing heavily. Thorin had a hand in her sleeve, she stole a glance at the dwarf’s face. His gaze was still hard like steel, as it always was. He probably was only holding onto her now because he couldn’t trust her to make the right decision if she was pressed. Finny wanted so desperately to tear herself away from him, and prove just what she was worth. 

But deep in her heart she knew Thorin was right about her. She had nothing to offer them. 

She swallowed hard as the heavy breathing of a warg loomed overhead. She could smell the dreadful creature as it snuffled for them. Thorin turned his head slowly, looking to Kíli, nodding ever so subtly at his nephew’s bow. Kíli swallowed, taking a deep breath as he pulled an arrow from his quiver. 

In one swift movement he had pulled away from the rock, drawing his bow back. The arrow found its mark in the beast’s skull, sending the warg pitching forward. The orc rider was thrown to the ground as the warg keeled over dead. The orc tried to stand but it was quickly assaulted by several of the dwarves. Before she knew it the orc was lying dead at her feet and Finny could feel the bile rising in the back of her throat. She didn’t even hear Gandalf’s order to keep running. Kíli grabbed her hand instantly, pulling her along next to him. 

It was too late now. The orcs had heard the commotion of the dwarrow killing one of their own and they swiftly abandoned the chase of Radagast, running full force after the company. The creatures were coming in from all sides now as they were forced into a clearing. 

“There’s more coming!” Kíli yelled, 

“Kíli!” Thorin roared, “Shoot them!” Kíli was drawing arrow after arrow, trying to pick off the wargs but it wasn’t taking. His bow wasn’t strong enough to take the wargs off with a single shot. 

“We’re surrounded!” Fíli cried, Finny drew her sword instantly, gripping it tightly in her hands. Her mind was racing with every technique she’d ever learned in how to use the weapon. But she was still a novice. She’d never even seen combat until this point. And she felt like a clumsy girl holding a weapon that was too heavy for her hands. 

“Where’s Gandalf!” Dori shouted, 

“He’s abandoned us!” Dwalin replied, dual axes now in hand. Finny’s eyes flitted over the landscape in hope to spot the wizard but all she could see were wargs, and great monstrous orcs upon their backs. 

“Hold your ground!” Thorin shouted, swirling his elvish blade round his head. Finny sharpened her stance, clutching tightly at her sword. 

“This way you fools!” Gandalf shouted from behind them. All heads whipped round to spot the pointed hat descended down into the stones. 

“Go!” Thorin yelled, running up to the rock, “Quickly! All of you!” The dwarrow followed the order, running to the cave and sliding down into the depths. Finny jumped down, sliding down the slick rock and a stuttering halt in the dirt. Bofur grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet, 

“You alright lass?” he asked, eyeing her over. Finny nodded silently, jumping back as Fíli landed at her feet. He popped up instantly, 

“Well that was fun,” he said, grinning brightly at her. Finny frowned at him, sheathing her sword. 

“Not the words I’d use,” she replied, Fíli shrugged, patting her shoulder. There was more shouting from above, followed by the cry of wargs and orcs alike. Finny held her breath as Kíli and Thorin slid down into the cave. 

A distant horn echoed in her ears, followed by the stamping of horse hooves. A loud cry sounded and an orc was flung into the cave. Instantly everyone jumped away, aiming their swords down at the creature’s neck. Finny breathed out, dropping her head. It was already dead. 

Thorin’s brow furrowed, bending down and ripping an arrow from the orc’s neck. He glowered at the arrow head as if it had personally offended him before he threw it to the ground, 

“Elves,” He snarled, Finny’s eyes widened. Could it be? 

“I cannot see where the pathway leads!” Dwalin called from up ahead, a faint light casting a glow around the dwarf. “Should we follow it?” 

“Follow it of course!” Bofur replied, following after Dwalin. Finny lingered as the dwarrow filed on. She turned, casting one last look up at the sun lit tundra. If she listened just carefully enough she could hear the elves shouting to one another in Sindarin. She almost laughed in disbelief, a small smile gracing her features. 

“Finny,” Gandalf beckoned, “Best not to dawdle,” She nodded slowly, reluctantly pulling away and following after the wizard. The path they followed was narrow, forcing them to walk single file between the towering split rocks, sunlight streaming between the thin crack above. 

She could feel it now that they were closer, but she was still unsure. That thrumming of light singing in her heart, in a song that she had known for so long. 

“Gandalf?” she asked, still so unwilling to believe it was true. “Where are we?” 

“I wondered if you might have such a gift,” the wizard replied lowly from behind her, she turned to look at him. 

“What?” 

“It’s an old and rare gift among your kind,” Gandalf said, smiling down at the hobbit. “The ability to sense magic. You can feel it now can’t you,” she hesitated, 

“Yes… I can.” Gandalf smiled, 

“Your grandmother had such a gift.” he replied softly, “All will be revealed in time,” Finny’s brow furrowed, but kept walking. The burning in her heart growing stronger. 

“There’s a light ahead!” Gloin called, the path slowly began to widen and the dwarrow filed out. Finally she was able to duck out from behind the rocks, going breathless at the sight laid before her. 

Leaves of glittering orange and yellow swayed in the breeze, surrounded by cascading waterfalls. The elvish towers ascended high into the sky, tucked against the valley side. 

She’d only dreamed of this place.

“The Valley of Imladris,” Gandalf said, walking up behind them. “In the common tongue it is known by another name,” 

“Rivendell,” Finny breathed, a wistful look on her face. 

“Here lies the last homely house east of the sea,” The wizard said, tapping his staff into the ground. 

She jerked her gaze from the spires as thorin stalked toward her and the wizard, 

“This was your plan all along,” Thorin snarled, “To seek refuge with our enemy,” 

“Enemy?” Finny asked, confusion etching itself into her features. Thorin barely spared her a glance before turning his wrath back to the wizard. 

“You have no enemies here Thorin Oakenshield,” Gandalf replied, frowning at the dwarf, “The only ill to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself.” Finny blinked, looking away from the pair. 

“You think that the elves will give our quest their blessing?” Thorin demanded, “They will try to stop us,” 

“Of course they will,” Gandalf replied incredulously, “But we have questions that need answered. If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact. And respect. And no small degree of charm,” Gandalf brushed past Thorin, “Which is why you will leave the talking to me.” Finny glanced at Thorin who stalked past her. Gandalf led them down the stone steps toward a land that had only ever lived in her dreams up until that point. And while the dwarrow seemed uneasy she could only look at the majesty that lay before her, and for the first time on the trip she felt at peace. She could breathe here. 

They pass through two stone elf guards, into a small landing surrounded by trees and leading to a lengthy staircase. Her uncle joined her at her side. 

“Is it everything you’ve ever hoped?” he whispered, Finny smiled at him softly, 

“And more,” she whispered, linking her hand into the crook of his arm. Bilbo patted her hand, smiling at her fondly. Thorin was whispering agitatedly to Dwalin, tapping his foot anxiously. Finny looked up in awe as a real life elf descended down the staircase. Fine purple robes swished around his ankles as he walked, silver circlet glittering against dark hair. 

“Lindir!” Gandalf greeted, the elf touched his hand to his chest and extended it toward the wizard. Gandalf repeated the gesture, dipping his head to the elf. 

“Mithrandir,” The elf greeted, the dwarrow eyed the elf suspiciously, hands closing around sword hilts. “Lastannem i athrannedh i Vruinen.” ‘We had heard you had crossed into the valley,’ Finny had to resist shaking her uncle’s arm. She couldn’t believe this was real! 

“I must speak with Lord Elrond,” Gandalf replied, Lindir frowned, pursing his lips, 

“My Lord Elrond is not here,” the elf said, 

“Not here?” Gandalf asked, “Where is he?” An Elvish horn blared in the distance. Finny turned her head, eyes widening at the thundering of horse hooves. The elf horn blared again as horses thundered toward them, galloping down the bridge. 

“Ifridî bekâr!” Thorin roared, “Close ranks!” The dwarrow instantly drew their weapons forming into a tight little circle. Kíli grabbed her sleeve, pulling her to the center of the ring and pushing her behind him as he drew his bow. The elves circled them, hooves crashing into the ground, marvelous maroon armor adorning their bodies, glistening under the dying sun. The horses slowed to a trot before falling to stationary as a dark haired elf dismounted from his horse. Finny stared in wonder as the elf neared Gandalf, 

“Lord Elrond! Mellonen,” Gandalf greeted, “Mo evínedh?” ‘Lord Elrond! My friend, where have you been?” 

“Farannem ‘lamhoth i udul o charad. Dagannem rim na Iant Vedui.” The elf lord replied, holding an orc sword in his hand as he moved to embrace the wizard. ‘We’ve been hunting a pack of orcs that came from the south. We slew a number near the hidden pass.’ “Strange for orcs to come so near our borders.” Elrond held up the orcish blade before passing it to Lindir, “Something or someone, must have drawn them near,” Elrond added, shooting Gandalf a fond look. The dwarrow slowly drifted apart to a small clump. Kíli was still standing slightly in front of her, bow lowered but arrow still drawn. She placed a hand on his arm, looking at him in worry. Kíli glanced at her, looking between her and the elves. 

“Ah yes, well that may have been us,” Gandalf replied, a small smile on his face as he motioned to the company of dwarves. Elrond took a breath, eyeing Thorin, his gaze alighting in recognition. 

“Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain,” Elrond said, chest lifting, 

“I do not believe we have met,” Thorin replied, frowning deeply at the elf. A smile twitched at the elf lord’s lips, 

“You have your grandfather’s bearing,” he replied, a fond look on his face, “I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain.” Thorin nodded, looking the elf over with contempt, 

“Indeed,” Thorin replied, disgust laced in his tone, “He made no mention of you,” Elrond smiled witfully at the dwarf, 

“Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vin,” The elf lord said, the dwarrow stiffened before Gloin grabbed his ax, 

“What is he sayin’!” Gloin asked angrily, “Does he offer us insult!” The dwarrow began to shout, grabbing for weapons– 

“No he’s offering you food,” Finny cut in, looking up at the elf lord, “Shorthand. He’s offering you dinner.” The dwarrow all turned to look at her, blank expressions on their faces as they stared. She blinked back at them before Lord Elrond spoke again, 

“And who might you be, little one?” She looked up at him, 

“Finnick… Took,” Elrond smiled fondly at her, 

“Ah, I might have guessed,” he replied, “Any member of the Took family is welcome here in Rivendell.” She smiled, dipping her head, 

 “Hannon Le,” she replied, ‘Thank you,’ Elrond motioned them forward and the dwarrow followed. Finny began to move toward the steps before Thorin grabbed her arm, 

“What else did he say,” He demanded, “you said short hand he’s offering us dinner. What else did he say?” Finny wrenched her arm back, 

“Maybe if you’d asked nicely I would have told you,” She replied, giving him a sarcastic smile, “Since you did not, you can ask Gandalf.” 

She marched off, leaving the dwarven king gaping at her in her wake. She moved toward the steps gathering up her dress in one hand to begin her ascent before Kíli arrived at her side, offering up his arm. She smiled gratefully, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Thank you,” Kíli nodded, smiling at her, 

“How come you didn’t mention you speak elvish?” he whispered as they walked, Finny shrugged, 

“Didn’t seem to matter. None of you speak Sindarin, do you?” Kíli blinked before shaking his head, 

“No I don’t suppose we do,” she hummed, 

“Though, I heard Thorin say something earlier. Something I didn’t understand,” Kíli nodded, 

“He was speaking Khuzdul. Our native tongue,” he paused, “Um, though I can’t tell you what he said because our language is secret,” Finny glanced at him, 

“Are you saying that because you truly do not want me to know or because it really is secret,” Kíli jumped in front of her, shaking his head urgently, a look of earnestness in his eyes. 

“No truly! I cannot speak of it to anyone that isn’t a dwarf or that hasn’t been named a dwarf friend officially. Otherwise I would tell you. I would give you anything should you ask it of me.” Finny’s face flushed as she stared into Kíli’s deep brown eyes, watching her with such deep attention. She coughed, turning away, 

“Are all things of dwarven culture so secretive?” she asked, replacing her hand on his arm. Kíli shook his head, 

“No, there is plenty I can share with you if you’d like. But anything from our Maker directly is secret to only us dwarves. Anything else is yours” he replied, Finny nodded, glancing over at him, 

“I’d like that,” They were led by the elves to a large open patio, tucked high up into the valley. Set up were two tables low to the ground, surrounded by pillows.

Finny breathed out a sigh of relief. After weeks on end of eating and sleeping on the ground a true meal sounded wonderful. Elrond and Gandalf had slipped away to speak elsewhere but Finny couldn’t bring herself to care as the elves loaded the table with food. More food than she’d seen since she’d left the shire. She’d never told the dwarrow that hobbits eat seven meals a day. Of course her uncle had been shoving snacks into her hands whenever he got the chance, determined that she might not go hungry. And surprisingly Kíli had been doing the same. He shoved food into her hands at every meal, always claiming he wasn’t hungry. Or that he wouldn’t want the food to go to waste so that she could have seconds. 

Kíli led her to the table, allowing her to sit before he took a seat next to her. She blushed, ducking his gaze. Who knew dwarrow could be so courteous? Soon Elrond and Gandalf had returned and Thorin moved to a table further up on the pavilion to speak with the elf lord. She watched as Lord Elrond took his seat, bright golden robes glittering in the evening sun. He was noble, face fair, his face was creased with age but his skin held a quality that only the immortal could. He breathed of wisdom and kindness, shining like summer. 

Kíli chewed, looking between her and the elf. “Do you know him?” Finny glanced at him, 

“Oh, no,” she replied, “I just… my grandmother mentioned an elf who looks similar to Lord Elrond so I’m just… intrigued is all.” She smiled awkwardly, looking back to her food. 

“Your grandmother has been here?” he asked, Finny nodded, 

“Yes, she traveled far.” she replied, smiling fondly to herself, “An adventurous hobbit, unlike anyone I’ve ever known. She was the one who taught me how to speak Sindarin,” 

“We can’t have an elf lover in our company!” Nori cried lightheartedly from across the table, earning a hearty laugh from everyone at the table. Finny’s ears went crimson as she stared at the dwarves. 

“What!” she asked, face flushed, “I am descended from an elvish line, you know! You thought you might think of that since my ears are pointed!” The dwarrow laughed again, as Finny frowned at them. “What’s with you and elves anyways? You all have been glaring daggers at each other since we arrived,”  The dwarrow all glanced at each other, “This a secret too?” Balin shook his head, 

“Ask me again later Finny,” The elder dwarf replied, “We prefer not to share in such company,” Finny’s brow furrowed, glancing among the elves but soon dropped it. She was too hungry to care what the dwarrow or elves thought of each other. 

She hummed softly to herself as the elves played a gentle tune on flutes and harps, but the dwarrow seemed unable to stand the gentle music. She sighed, the dwarrow were certainly digging in their heels about all of this. 

“I feel like I’m at a funeral!” Nori lamented, 

“Did someone die?” Oin asked, shoving his horn into his ear, Finny rolled her eyes, a fond smile on her face. 

“Well there’s only one thing for it lads!” Bofur exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the table and pushing himself to his feet. 

“THAYRE’SSSSS AAAANNN!” Bofur warbled in his deep voice, moving to stand on a pedestal between the tables. “ Inn there’s an inn, there’s a merry old inn, beneath an old gray hill!” The other dwarrow of the company quickly joined in stomping their feet and singing heartily. Kíli had taken up the song with gusto, singing off key along with Bofur. “And there they brew a beer so brown the man in the moon HIMSELF came down one night to drink his fill.” Finny smiled, laughing to herself as she clapped along to the merry tune. “The ostler has a tipsy cat that plays the five string fiddle. And up and down he runs his bow, now squeaking HAAIIIGGGGHHH, now purringggg LOOOOWWWW.” Finny blinked as the dwarrow began to hurl food at Bofur, pelting him with rolls and lettuce and all sorts of food scraps. Maybe it was just common of the dwarrow to ruckus like this when they sang. After all this was not the first time Bofur had entertained them all with a song as they traveled. “ Now sawing in the middle! So the cat on the fiddle played hey diddle-diddle a jig that would wake the dead! He squeaked and he sawed and he quickened his tune. While the landlord shook the man in the moon, IT’S AFTER THREE HE SAID!” A great cheer went up from the company as the song finished and more food went flying into the air. Finny laughed, smiling brightly as Bofur took several bows, grinning crookedly to himself. 

“Finny, Bilbo!” Gandalf called from the table with Lord Elrond. “Come join us, won’t you?” Finny nodded, pushing herself up from the table. 

“Too good for us are ya?” Bofur joked, Finny smirked, 

“I’m going to find some more esteemed conversation,” she replied, giving them a wry smile. “I’ll be back, don’t fret.” 

Kíli watched her go. Maybe watching for just a bit too long. 

That night…

Kíli didn’t see Finny again until late into the night when she came back to the large rooms they were given by the elves. The elves had graciously filled the room with enough cots for the whole company, and with enough blankets and pillows for them to all have at least three of the items if they wished. 

Sheer curtains fluttered in the evening summer breeze as Finny began to unpack a few things from her bag. 

He turned his head away as Finny began to change into a nightgown. The dwarrow had all snickered at her at first when she pulled the white dressing gown out of her bag, but he'd found a new appreciation for it. She looked like an angel, standing there in the moonlight, gentle white cloth swishing around her ankles. He was silent as she sat down on her cot, finally turning to look at her. 

She was blissfully unaware, humming a light tune to herself as she brushed her fingers through deep brown curls. The moon cast a silvery glow over her as her nimble fingers braided her hair before tying it off with a pale pink ribbon. 

Her gaze flitted up and she went rigid as she spotted Kíli watching her. He swallowed, having the decency to look slightly ashamed as he had been staring for some time now. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t wake you, did I?” Kíli sat up on his elbows, shaking his head. 

“No. Couldn’t sleep,” he offered her a weak smile as Finny breathed a sigh of relief. 

“So quiet here, hmm?” she asked, moving to turn down her covers. Kíli nodded as Finny climbed into her bed, setting her journal on her lap. 

“What did the elf–” he coughed, “Um– What did Lord Elrond want with you?” 

“Oh nothing interesting,” she replied, “We talked about my grandmother. And about why we’re here, Elrond is baffled by Gandalf’s choice of traveling companions.” Her lips twitched into a smile, before she glanced back up at Kíli. “Lord Elrond seems to be well versed in your people’s customs and history if that at all improves your opinion of him.” Kíli hugged a laugh, 

“I’ll trust you on this one. You seem like a good judge of character.” he replied, Finny smiled softly at him. 

“I appreciate your vote of confidence,” Kíli nodded, laying himself back in his bed. Silence passed between them before he spoke again. 

“Your grandmother,” he began, “What was her name?” Finny’s gaze dropped to her lap, 

“Belladonna,” she said softly, her voice aching with old grief, but twisted into it was fondness, and joyful remembrance. “Anything I’ve ever known about life outside the Shire is from stories she told me.” A bitter laugh escaped her lips, “And to think, she didn’t even die on an adventure. No one would've thought she was in any danger. She was riding the same pony she always rode, over the same bridge.” Finny paused, sucking in a harsh breath, “Her pony threw her into the river. She drowned.” Her nose twitched, eyes unseeing as they gazed into nothingness. “You would think I might not be so melancholy about it after all these years,” Kíli watched her face, her eyes having become sunken and distant. 

“I wouldn’t think so,” he said after a moment, “I never even met my father, and his death still grieves me to this day.” Mournful eyes met his, “I more wonder of what might have been. What he may think of who I am now. I believe that loss truly never leaves us. The pain may ease but it will always be there.” Finny’s eyes flitted over his face, unreadable emotions passing through her gaze. 

She turned away, fingers fiddling with her blankets. 

“How did your father die,” she whispered, Kíli’s gaze stayed fixed on her. 

“There was an accident. In the mine he worked at.” Kíli began softly. He’d only heard the story from Fíli. Who’d only told him once, and refused to speak about it again. “Fíli says that my father was a hero that day. That since it was mostly men who worked in the mine in Ered Luin they could not sense the change in the rocks as a dwarf could. He warned them all and everyone escaped before the mine caved in. Everyone but my father.” Finny met his gaze, chin quivering. 

“He sounds like a good person,” she choked out, wiping harshly at her eyes. Slowly Kíli stood, moving to sit on her bed. “Good father,” she murmured as he sat down beside her. Gingerly he placed his hand over hers, gently intertwining their fingers. 

“Your father…” he began, Finny stiffened, 

“He’s not dead,” she said abruptly, “I’m sorry if I suggested as such,” she pulled away, standing. “I’m in need of some fresh air.” She dipped her head, hurrying out of the room. 

And Kíli was left alone. Wondering where he went wrong. 

When Kíli saw Finny again she was wandering in one of Rivendell’s numerous gardens. She had tucked up her dress into her belt as she hopped her way across stones that covered a small stream. She was singing to herself, flowers tucked into her pockets and woven into her braid. 

“I love my love because I know my love loves me,” she sang in a soft soprano, notes clear in the morning air as she bent down to collect more flowers. “Would I become a swallow ascend into the air. And if I lost my lover and could not find him here, I quickly would become a fish and search the flowing sea,” She kicked her foot into the water, laughing brightly as the droplets cascaded in the air. “I love my love because I know my love loves me!” Kíli wanted to retreat. Leave her be, to smile, and sing, and to be happy. He didn’t want to be the cause of her sorrow, but he knew if he left now he’d lose the courage to apologize. Taking a deep breath, Kíli straightened out of the brush, stepping forward. 

He cleared his throat, causing the hobbit to stop. A small strangled gasp escaped Kíli’s lips as the sun danced around the curls that lay against her face. There were daisies in her hair, tucked gently behind pointed ears. He coughed again, shuffling his feet. 

“Oh, Kíli,” she greeted, “Forgive me, I did not hear you approach. My mother always said I had a wandering mind,” She looked away, fiddling with the flowers in her hands. “Care to join me?” Kíli nodded mutely, walking toward the hobbit. She offered him a weak smile before they began to walk. 

“I wanted to talk about last night,” Kíli said after a moment, Finny looked away, 

“Oh,” she murmured, Kíli opened his mouth to apologize– “I’m sorry,” She blurted, “I should have not run off as I did. You had just been so vulnerable with me, and…” She choked, turning away from him. “You must think me so selfish and inconsiderate,” she whispered, Kíli stopped in his tracks. Finny’s head turned, deep brown and sorrowful eyes meeting his. 

“I do not think I would be capable of thinking such things of you,” he replied softly. He approached slowly, taking her hand. “I was the one who wished to apologize. If I have upset you or offended you, truly I am sorry,” Finny breathed out, looking off into the distance before her gaze met his again. 

“It wasn’t you,” she dropped her gaze, “it was me. And all these old wounds.” She pulled her hand from Kíli’s. “My father and I do not speak anymore.” Kíli said nothing. He would let her air all that she needed to, as much or as little of her soul that she wished to bear to him. “When I was seventeen, my mother stopped living with my father. I guess… they fell out of love?” She laughed bitterly, “Which I thought could never happen. And… well. I started to see things in my father that I did not love. And I believe that he has not known me for who I am since I ceased being a little girl.” Her smile was watery, she dropped her head, a daisy coming loose from her hair and drifting to the ground. “Never mind loved me,” 

He bent, gingerly picking up the daisy. He watched the dainty petals shine in the sunlight before he looked back to Finny. 

“I am sorry.” Carefully he reached a hand forward, and with the lightest of touches he brushed one of her curls behind her ear. The flower was quick to follow, tucked back safely in her hair. “You deserve to be loved.” 

A faint blush crept across her face, skin glistening in the light. Kíli dropped his hand, stepping back from her as Finny rubbed at her nose, turning away. 

“Getting close to lunch, is it?” she asked, looking up into the sky, 

“Yes, I suppose it is,” he mumbled. The hobbit shuffled her feet, 

“Well, I guess we should join the others then,” she said after a moment, forcing a smile at him. 

“Yes, I suppose we should,” Finny swallowed, before tucking the bundle of flowers in her pocket and beginning to walk. Kíli stayed glued in place for a moment longer before he followed after. 

Chapter Text

That night…

Finny didn’t know precisely why she’d been called to this meeting, but she was finding it quickly aggravating. For all intents and purposes she’d been pointedly avoiding Thorin as she needed a slight reprieve from all of his nit picking. She had her hand tucked in the crook of her Uncle’s arm as they stood in Lord Elrond’s chambers as Gandalf desperately tried to get Thorin to hand over the map to the elf lord.

“Our business is no concern of the elves,” Thorin repeated for what must have been at least the third time in the span of ten minutes. Lord Elrond stood unwavering in the moonlight, watching the dwarf carefully.

“For goodness sake, Thorin, show him the map,” Gandalf demanded, exasperated.

“It is the legacy of my people,” Thorin replied evenly, voice sharp. “It is mine to protect, as are its secrets.” Finny pursed her lips.

“Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves!” Gandalf cried exhaustedly, “Your pride will be your downfall. You stand in the presence of one of the few in Middle Earth who can read this map. Show it to Lord Elrond.” Thorin’s gaze narrowed, and Finny could almost read the conflict in his stoney gaze. Slowly, the dwarf king pulled the map from his breast pocket

“Thorin, no!” Balin hissed, Thorin shot his well meaning advisor a glare before begrudgingly passing it to the elf Lord. Elrond inclined his head as he opened the map. He glanced over the top of the parchment, raising an eyebrow.

“Erebor.” His pointed gaze fell to Thorin, “What is your interest in this map?”

“It is mainly academic,” Gandalf supplied in a hurry, cutting in before Thorin could even say anything. The dwarf king closed his mouth, nodding along with the wizard. “As you know, this sort of artifact often contains hidden text. You still read ancient dwarvish do you not?” Elrond’s brow furrowed minutely, watching the wizard carefully before he turned back to the map, tilting it toward the light.

So that’s what Gandalf wanted. An answer of how to find the door into the mountain.

“Cirth ithil,” Elrond murmured lowly, Thorin’s eyes flitted to Finny’s,

“Moon runes,” she translated. She was rewarded with a small dip of the dwarf’s head.

“Of course,” Gandalf breathed, “An easy thing to miss,” The wizard winked at Finny as Elrond moved closer to the window to allow more of the moonlight to shine onto the map.

“Well this is true.” Elrond began, “Moon runes can only be read by the light of the moon of the same shape and season in which they were written. Which fortunately for you is a fortnight from today.” Thorin blanched,

“A fortnight?” he asked again, Elrond inclined his head,

“Something you’re in a hurry for?” he asked, Finny swallowed. She had a feeling the elf lord already knew exactly what they wanted and what they were traveling for in the first place.

“No.” Thorin ground out after a moment. Elrond handed the map back to the dwarf king.

“I would happily read it for you when the time should come.” The elf said, dipping his head to Thorin. The dwarf repeated the gesture, tucking the map into his shirt again.

Lord Elrond bid them goodnight before sweeping away. Thorin let out a frustrated growl,

“Are there no others that can read the map. We cannot afford to tarry here for two weeks.” Thorin said to the wizard, Gandalf sighed, resting against his staff.

“No. Not unless we were travel far out of our way.” Gandalf replied, stroking a hand down his beard. “I know you do not care for the elves. But they are providing you food, bedding, shelter from the orcs who happen to be hunting you.” Thorin glared, the bridge of his nose wrinkled in anger. But he said nothing.

“Do you truly hate these people so much,” Finny whispered, looking between the two dwarves.

“The elves are selfish, and greedy,” Thorin snarled, “they have turned away time and time again from the suffering of my people. They claim wisdom and kindness but all I see are greed, lies, and using us as nothing more than a means to an end.” Finny dropped his gaze, fingers fisting even more tightly into her uncle’s coat. Bilbo patted her hand, sending a pointed glare in Thorin’s direction. “No one is to commiserate with the elves. I forbid it. The moment Elrond reads the map for us. We leave.” Thorin stormed from the room, reluctantly followed by Balin. Finny sighed, tucking her face into Bilbo’s sleeve. He sighed, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“I do not forbid you.” He whispered, “do whatever you may wish. And if Thorin should be angry, he can speak to me first.” She smiled softly, squeezing his arm.

Finny’s blatant defiance was beginning to vex Thorin. She didn’t listen to him, running off into Rivendell to spend her time however she saw fit. Did she not understand that he was the leader of this company? And that he only had her best interests at heart?

He was only trying to protect her from things she did not yet understand about this world. Her heart was too forgiving, too kind for the evil that lived outside of the Shire. It was something he had had to learn the hard way and if he could spare her the heartache he would.

Elves would always see any that were not their own as lesser.

The evening was cool, torches flickering in the breeze, casting a pale orange glow over the trees and rivers of Rivendell. Thorin supposed that Rivendell would be a peaceful place if it were not infested with elves. That was what kept him in such a state of unease.

Finny had left their camp when she thought he hadn’t been looking, slipping away with Kíli on her tail, whispering and laughing. He did not wish for the elves to ruin her happiness. Midnight was fast approaching, and the two youngest of their company had been gone for far too long, so he went out to collect them. Thorin himself was in no hurry, sure he’d hear Kíli and order them both back to camp.

Thorin slowed at the sight of Bilbo sitting on a bench alone, humming to himself as he smoked a pipe. The hobbit’s merry tune died down as Thorin grew closer, Bilbo’s body stiffening.

“Come to enjoy the cool night air Master Dwarf?” The hobbit asked, turning his head to look at Thorin.

“No,” Thorin said after a moment, “I’ve come in search of your niece, and my nephew.” Bilbo scoffed, turning his gaze back to the night sky.

“Yes, since her very existence seems to vex you so,” The hobbit replied bitterly, Thorin’s brow furrowed,

“Her existence no, her defiance yes. As I only intend to do what is best,” Bilbo glanced back at him, eyes narrowed. The hobbit did not speak, turning away again. Slowly Thorin approached, sitting down next to the hobbit.

“There is no danger posed to her here.” Bilbo sighed, “She has always wished to come here, might you leave Finny in peace just this once.” The hobbit went silent for a moment, “She deserves peace after all this time.”

“If it is peace she seeks, she will not find it here,” Thorin replied, folding his hands in his lap. Bilbo laughed, causing Thorin to look at him, brow furrowed. Had Bilbo actually laughed… at him?

“Why? Because the elves might feed her too much and give her more books than she could ever desire?” Bilbo was smiling at him now, a small twinkle in his eye.

“It is a front.” Thorin replied, eyes staring off into the night of Rivendell. “A filthy lie that will fall away when it is no longer convenient to the elves to entertain her.” Bilbo’s smile fell away,

“Finny asked you if you truly hate these people so much.” Bilbo said after a moment, “And by your response, it would seem yes.” Piercing blue eyes met his, a demanding inquisitive look set upon the hobbit’ features. “I want to know why. Why do the dwarrow and elves hate each other so much? Never have I known animosity such as this.” Thorin stilled, watching the hobbit carefully.

“This hatred has existed since the first age, and maybe far before that.” Thorin began, “Our creator, Mahal… or Aüle as it may be known in your tongue; Mahal is considered to be lesser than the being that created the elves. At least by the elves.” Bilbo was silent, watching Thorin, unreadable emotions passing over his face. “The elves have always seen us as lesser. To immortal beings such as they we are weak and fragile, with lives that end before they might even blink. There was once an alliance between dwarrow and elves to fight against the orcs, created by King Thingol and the Teleri elves, and Lord Durin. King Under the Mountain; my ancestor.”

Bilbo gave a small nod, “Thingol recognized our great craftsmanship and skill when it came to the ore of the earth and had us build a city for him, known as Menegroth. The elf Thingol came in possession of a great prize. A jewel known as Simirial. This prize was the greatest of all elvish treasures, desired by many in Middle Earth. Thingol ordered a necklace for the jewel to be set in, seeing my people as only people who could create great treasures for him. When the necklace was completed, Thingol refused payment, as he was a great elvish lord in his own eyes, and believed that he was above needing to pay my kin for their work. So the dwarrow refused to give Thingol the necklace, sparking a great war between dwarrow and elves. One that taught us that elves only see my people as a means to an end. The generosity they seem to exude comes at a price, when it is no longer convenient for them, they will toss you aside.” Bilbo took in a sharp breath,

The fires of the dragon still burned bright in his mind. When Erebor was taken from him, and his people sent into exile. As his people fled from the mountain, he called to Thranduil to help them. To give his people relief. And Thranduil turned his head, taking his army and leaving the dwarrow to die.

Bilbo blew out a long sigh through his nose, going to chew on his pipe.

“Did you know that there are three different breeds of hobbit?” He asked suddenly, glancing over at Thorin. Slowly the dwarrow shook his head, brow creasing at the sudden change in topic. “Finny and I come from the Fallohides. Long descended from elvish blood. We are taller than the average hobbit, and grow no facial hair. It’s also why our ears happen to be pointed. Now if you were to go farther south, down toward the marshes you’ll find the Stoors. Now those are of dwarvish descent, they’re shorter than Fallohides and stockier, with facial hair. Finny’s father is from a line of Stoors you know.” Bilbo said, humming thoughtfully to himself. “Finny’s mother, my sister, she’s a Fallohide such as myself. You may even say that Finny is a bridge between you and the elves. Her father of dwarvish blood, her mother of elvish. Finny can be quite the negotiator when she chooses.” Bilbo smiled to himself, looking off wistfully into the trees.

Thorin drew in a short breath, chewing on his lip before he spoke.

“How old was she?” Thorin asked, Bilbo hummed, looking confusedly at the dwarf, “when… her parents died. How old was she?” The hobbit choked on the smoke from his pipe, coughing viciously for a moment. Thorin stared at the hobbit, waiting for him to catch his breath. Bilbo blinked at the dwarf, brow pinched together.

“What on Eru’s green earth gave you that idea!” Bilbo yelped incredulously. Thorin blanched, stammering. (Since when did he stammer?)

“I only thought because… well she talks of her mother with such fondness. And well— she never speaks of her father and you seem to have filled the role of parent- and I—-“ Bilbo laughed softly,

“Ah yes, I see.” He replied, “I could understand how the impression was given.” The hobbit went quiet for a moment, pulling at his waistcoat. “Finny is not an orphan, though I will not lie to you and say her family life has always been easy. Through from an outside eye it may appear that way.” Bilbo stole a glance at the dwarf, laughing uncomfortably. “I… uh. I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this.” Thorin hummed,

“Maybe because you know I’d understand,” the dwarf suggested, eyes settling on the hobbit trying to gauge his reaction. Bilbo’s eyes flitted to meet Thorin’s for only a brief moment. “The boys’ father died when they were very young. Before Kíli was even born.” Thorin said, smiling thoughtfully to himself. His nephews’ father had been a close friend. An honorable dwarf who was taken far too soon. “I couldn’t leave my sister alone to fend for herself so we all lived together. I hate to say it, but I was the only father my nephews ever knew for a long time.” Bilbo sighed, eyes going blank for a moment.

“It’s hard. When they’re so young, in their formative years… and you know that you aren’t their parent.”

“I understand.” Thorin replied softly, “Though she sees you as a father. That is why I assumed. She cares about you beyond measure.” Bilbo sighed, pinching his brow before smiling softly at Thorin.

“If I do nothing right in my life, I wish to do right by Finny,” he said, smiling. Thorin nodded, lips twitching upward into a smile.

“As I wish to do right by my nephews.” Thorin said, giving a resolute nod. Bilbo sucked in a deep breath, standing.

“It is late Master Dwarf, I bid you goodnight.” the hobbit said, stars twinkling in his eyes.

“Goodnight, Master Burglar,” Thorin replied, dipping his head to the hobbit. Bilbo began to retreat back toward their rooms before stopping.

“Ah, Master Oakenshield?” Thorin tilted his head toward Bilbo, “I’m sure Finny will return soon with Kíli. She won’t give up anything about the quest. It means more to her than you know.” Thorin nodded again and Bilbo left without another word, the smoke of his pipe still lingering in the air.

The king sat, watching the leaves in the trees, flicking in the moonlight. Eventually he stood, abandoning his mission to find Finny and Kíli. The two would return eventually. He would have to place some trust in them. As they placed trust in him.

Finny snuffled, back pressed up against the stone working of the balcony. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. And she didn’t even realize she had stumbled upon her Uncle and Thorin until she had already heard too much of their conversation to turn away.

“If I do nothing right in my life, I wish to do right by Finny.” She heard her uncle say, voice distant. Finny clutched at the flowers against her chest, tears tingling behind her eyes. She waited, holding back tears as her heart surged. Her Uncle left first, and Thorin followed not long after. After she was sure Thorin would not hear her, she scrambled to her feet, rushing back toward their rooms.

By the time she reached the elvish rooms, she was out of breath, a sheen of sweat sticking to her forehead. She took a moment to catch her breath, righting her dress and tucking several unruly curls behind her ear. She turned around the corner, smiling at her Uncle who glanced up at her as she entered the room. He was tucked up in an armchair, in front of the fireplace, a book open on his lap. Her heart ached fiercely for home, the sight in front of her so similar to the life they had lived in Bag End.

“Ah Finny, there you are darling. I was wondering where you had been off to,” he greeted, motioning for her to sit next to him. She did, sitting down at his feet, leaning her head up against his leg. Her uncle moved to run his fingers through her hair, just as he had when she was nothing more than a faunt. “Where is Kíli? I thought he was with you,” Finny hummed,

“He was, we went to the library and he got tired. So I walked with him so he might go to bed. I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk.” She turned to offer the flowers to Bilbo, “I picked these for you.” He smiled appreciatively, taking the flowers.

“They are lovely Finny, thank you for thinking of me.” She nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. She looked off into the fire unsure for a moment before turning back to her uncle.

“Uncle, you know I love you right?” she asked, hoping that the dimness of the room around her would mask the insecurity on her face. Bilbo’s brow pressed together in fond worry,

“Of course I do, dear one.” he replied, brushing through the fringe of her bangs. “And I love you,” Finny nodded, swallowing down the lump in her throat. Bilbo leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “It’s late, you should get some rest.” Finny nodded, standing,

“Goodnight Uncle, I love you,” Bilbo took her hand, squeezing it.

“I love you too darling, goodnight.” She retreated to the bedrooms, eyes flitting up to Kíli who was snoring softly. She got ready for bed, before settling under the covers, focusing on the sound of Kíli’s breathing.

In and out. In and out. In and out. It lulled her into a state of ease, eyes growing heavy.

She fell into a dreamless sleep.

With two weeks to wait the dwarves did their best to settle into Rivendell. Finny had continued to explore every inch of Rivendell. The murals on the walls, the relics that sat tucked away, the books in the library that she poured over for hours. And she walked with Kíli.

They spent hours together, wandering through Rivendell talking about anything and everything. They talked about their families, their lives from before the quest, their jobs, their hobbies.

Time seemed to slow when she was with him.

Kíli could not stay idle for long though. She knew he still felt unease at being in Rivendell and he released the unused energy through archery.

Lord Elrond had been kind enough to set them up with an archery field, finished with professional targets and plenty of arrows for the dwarf to use.

The repetitive thwack of arrows into the hay bale was almost soothing as she watched him. Well she was pretending she wasn’t watching, journal sitting open on her lap. Kíli’s movements were almost mechanical,

Draw

Pull

Release

Draw

Pull

Release.

Once he had emptied his quiver he’d walk to the hay bales, pulling his arrows from the hay and inspecting them.

She hurriedly ducked her head back to her journal as Kíli’s gaze flickered over to her.

“Do you want to try?” Kíli asked, Finny looked up at him.

“The bow?” she asked tentatively, Kíli chuckled,

“Yeah. My bow should be about your size,” he replied, “Do you want to try?” Finny nodded slowly, rising to her feet and making her way to the dwarf’s side. “This might be easier for you than the sword. It allows for long range attacks and it’s lighter in weaponry.” Kíli moved to stand next to her, unclipping his quiver from his back. He set it at her feet, urging her to stand in front of the target. “It’s not too difficult,” he held up the bow in front of him, drawing the string back to his cheek. “You’ll hold it like this,” he passed her the bow, “put your hand here in the divet and then pull the string back between your middle and pointer finger.” He adjusted her hands over the bow, he passed her an arrow, helping her to draw the arrow into the bow. “Now pull the feathers back to sit right underneath your lip and draw back to the corner of your mouth.” She hesitated,

“Are you sure I should try with a real arrow already? I have no idea what I’m doing,” she said, looking unsurely at him. Kíli laughed, moving to stand behind her,

“Here, let me help you,” Slowly his hand came over her forearm, guiding her hand, his other coming over to cover the hand on the bow. “Pull back slow, and use your other hand to guide.” Slowly the string was pulled, the arrow coming to rest right at the corner of her mouth. “Try not to flinch when the arrow releases. I don’t want you to cut yourself.” he whispered, Finny nodded minimally as Kíli let his hands move to hover above hers. “Three… two… one..”

Finny let go, the arrow flew, whistling through the air before striking the target. A laugh of disbelief escaped Finny’s lips as she stared at the arrow, sitting at the edge of the target. She turned her head, nose almost brushing up against Kíli’s, forgetting his closeness. She cleared her throat, backing away. “See you’re a natural!” Kíli laughed,

“Only because of you,” she replied, face flushed.

“With practice I think you’ll make a fine archer,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. She swallowed,

“I have no bow to practice with. I cannot take your bow from you,” Kíli scoffed,

“I don’t mind sharing. We don’t seem to be in any danger here and we’ll be here for a while.” he replied, “When we get to Erebor I’ll make you a bow laden with the gold of my people. There will be no finer bow in all of Middle Earth.” A short breath left Finny’s lips as Kíli’s eyes met hers in attentiveness and silent adoration. She opened her mouth to reply, grappling for the right words to thank him, but it never came.

“Kíli!” Finny jumped back from the dwarf at the sound of his name being called from behind them. She cleared her throat, rubbing her hand across her flushed face. Both of them turned to find Fíli descending the stairs, “There you are brother, we’ve been wondering where you two have been.”

“Why is something wrong?” Kíli asked, Fíli shook his head,

“No, you two just keep disappearing off together,” Fíli replied, wry smile on his face. Finny’s face flushed a deeper shade of red, ears burning.

“Oh! We were just– Kíli was only teaching me how to use the bow.” She stammered, swallowing hard before shoving the bow back at Kíli. “It’s almost elevensies, I should probably find my uncle,” She gave them both a nod, hands shaking.

“But I thought–” Kíli began, and she didn’t stick around to hear the rest, rushing off in a swirl of pink dress. Fíli laughed softly to himself, shaking his head. Kíli narrowed his gaze at his brother. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” he replied, knowing smile still etched on his features.

“What!” Kíli cried agitatedly, stamping his foot into the ground. Childish, he realized, but Fíli always had him reverting back to when they were small.

“A dwarf could do a lot worse than Finnick Took,” he replied, nodding his head in the direction Finny had left. “You seem to like her,” Kíli’s face went beet red,

“It’s— it’s not like that at all! I don’t know where in Mahal’s name you got an idea like that,” Kíli spluttered, “We’re friends. That’s all.” Fíli shrugged,

“If two people are happy, why shouldn’t they be together?” he asked, and Kíli couldn’t find the words to answer his brother. Fíli laughed, clapping him roughly on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out one day brother,”

“You’re delusional,” Kíli snapped, Fíli laughed again at the indignant look on his brother’s face.

“Whatever you say Kíli, whatever you say.”

Fíli walked off, leaving Kíli in his wake.

His brother was crazy. He didn’t like Finny more than a friend, and even if he did… it wouldn’t matter. He couldn’t ruin their friendship. He didn’t know if he could live without her by his side.

Kíli swallowed, following slowly after his brother.

Even if he did…

Two days later…

Kíli knew he was pouting. Or moping. Whichever word you preferred to describe his current state of mood, as Finny had been gone before he woke up and hadn’t seen her all day. Now he didn’t have anyone to talk to. (Untrue since he hadn’t left Fíli’s side for the entire day) but he missed the hobbits. As Bilbo had disappeared as well.

“Are you going to sulk the entire day?” Fíli asked, as Kíli worked to create new arrows.

“I’m not sulking,” Kíli huffed, glaring at his brother. Fíli chuckled, moving to sit shoulder to shoulder with his younger brother.

“I’m sure Finny will be back soon,” Fíli replied, grabbing one of Kíli’s damaged arrows and inspecting it. Kíli huffed,

“I’m not sulking about Finny,” Fíli hummed, a small smile gracing his face. “What? You don’t miss her?”

“Course I miss her,” Fíli replied, “She’s delightful to be around. Unlike another sulky someone I know.” He nudged Kíli’s shoulder, causing the younger to roll his eyes. Kíli opened his mouth to speak again but was quickly cut off by the approach of pattering footsteps.

“Kíli!” Finny exclaimed, grabbing his hand, trying to pull him to his feet. “Hurry! I wanna show you something, quick, quick!”

“Ok! Ok!” Kíli yelped, clambering to his feet, with Finny shaking his coat sleeve. “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise!” She squealed, her smile brighter than the sun. She interlocked their hands together, racing off into Rivendell, dragging Kíli along with her. Kíli had no idea where the hobbit was leading him, but seeing her smile, hearing her laughter… he could have run with her forever. Finny led him into the inner chambers of Rivendell, to a room filled with murals, statues, and old tapestries, flowing in the summer breeze that filled the whole of Rivendell. Finny stopped them in front of a mural, breathless, beaming over at him. Kíli finally tore his gaze from her face, moving to look at the mural. There was a young elf lord on one side, dressed in robes of pure starlight, feathers adorning his shoulders, a short mop of curly brown-blond hair covering his head. The elf’s hand was outstretched in friendship to a dwarf. The dwarf had bright red hair and a long braided beard tucked into his belt. He wore the traditional necklace of a prince adorned his shoulders, and royal clothing of the dwarves of old. The dwarf also had extended his hand to the elf, and between their fingers was a single silver stone.

Below was writing scrawled in a language he could not read.

“What… what does it say?” he asked, she smiled even brighter, moving to the words.

“Let it be known that there has been kinship between elves and dwarves. Elrond Penhedrel and Durin the fourth became brothers in all things, bonding the house of Elrond and the line of Durin together.” Kíli breathed out, brow furrowing at the image. “It’s your ancestor right? You’re of the line of Durin,” Kíli nodded,

“Yes,” he breathed, “I… did not know of this.” Finny smiled, squeezing his hand.

“You and the elves could be friends again! The house of Elrond and the house of Durin were always meant to be together,” Kíli sighed,

“But… I think I would have known it.” Kíli replied, he didn’t want to ruin her happiness, but… “I’ve studied my peoples’ history for a long time and… Lord Elrond was never mentioned.” Finny seemed to deflate,

“You could always ask me,” A voice said, turning to see Lord Elrond turning the corner, a warm smile on his face. “I did live to see much of your family’s history after all.” Finny’s face lit up again,

“Lord Elrond,” She greeted, bowing low to the elf. Elrond returned the gesture, looking to Kíli.

“It’s true that Durin and I were very close friends. Brothers even. I am not surprised that you’ve never heard of me though,” Elrond conceded, “Durin’s father did not take to me as Durin did,” Elrond’s gaze turned to the mural,

Kíli felt bitter anger rear its head as he stared at the elf. Memories of all their people had suffered in the year since they lost the mountain. What his mother and Uncle had to suffer. All they had lost, the lives that had been taken. His great grandfather, his grandfather, his grandmother, his Uncle Frerin, his father.

“Then where were you,” Kíli demanded suddenly, “When we tried to take back Moria, where were you? If you were such a close friend of my family, then where were you when we were dying, and starving, and alone. You could have helped us.” He could feel his chin quivering, throat closing up at the idea of how forsaken his people had been. Elrond breathed out slowly, looking from the mural back to Kíli,

“The truth is that by the time I discovered that the dwarves of Erebor had attempted to reclaim Moria, the battle was already over. I don’t know what your Uncle had told you of the years following the loss of the mountain, but your great grandfather Thror, was very sick.” Kili ‘s anger began to wane, genuine remorse and sadness filling the elf Lord’s voice. “If I had known I would have sent aid.” A child’s voice filled the air, pattering footsteps rushing toward them. A small human boy ran through the room, wild hair blowing.

“Will cin teilien with nin!” the boy exclaimed, tugging at Elrond’s robes. “Please! Please! Please!” Elrond smiled patting the boy’s head,

“I’m a little bit busy right now, Estel,” Elrond replied, squatting down in front of the boy, taking his hand. “Why don’t you go find Elladan, hmm? I will be able to play with you soon, I promise.” The boy nodded,

“I’ll be with Elladan!” he exclaimed, running off, Elrond laughed softly to himself,

“And… as you could see I had other priorities at the time,” Elrond said, Kíli nodded slowly, fingers twitching in Finny’s hand. She was smiling at him, shoulder pressed against his. She glanced back at the mural,

“Between your hands, what is it?” Finny asked,

“Mithril,” Kíli said, reverently, Elrond nodded,

“Yes,” He reached into his robes, pulling out the ore in question, “There was a time that my people were dying. Durin is part of the reason that we survived. Because of this mithril. He gave it to me as a token of our friendship.” He offered it out to Kíli, placing it into the dwarf’s hand. “I’m sure he would wish to see it returned to his family.” There was a melancholy smile on the elf’s face, as his fingers lingered over the ore for just a moment more. Kíli stared at the glittering silver stone in his hand, light and beautiful. He’d never known it outside of stories, as his people had been poor people for a very long time. He’d never known the riches of Erebor, and it felt like he was holding a piece of home in his hands. He hesitated, looking back up to Elrond. He pressed the mithril back into the elf’s hands.

“I would not take a token of friendship from you,” Kíli replied softly, closing Elrond’s hand around the mithril, “It’s clear he cared about you. And I’m sorry our people have drifted apart.” Elrond smiled gratefully down at the dwarf,

“I do not wish it to remain that way.” He replied, “I would have the friendship between our houses restored again. For I can see my friend in you now.” Kíli smiled softly,

“Our lives must seem so small to you,” he murmured after a moment, looking up at Elrond. The elf’s brow furrowed,

“No,” he replied resolutely, “Short, but not small, nor meaningless. I may have far outlived Durin, but he is always on my mind. A friendship such as that is not easily forgotten. And it will transcend lifetimes.” Finny squeezed his hand, dropping her head to rest on his shoulder,

“I told you you could be friends again,” She whispered, Kíli looked back up at Elrond, offering out his right hand.

“As a prince of Erebor, and a son of the house of Durin, I offer you now my hand in friendship.” he declared, Elrond watched him for a moment, before moving to grasp Kíli’s hand.

“And I accept. Let it be known that all the dwarrow of Erebor are always welcome here in these halls.” Their hands released, Kíli smiling softly at the elf Lord, a look of fondness resting on Elrond’s face. “Now, I seem to have a playdate schedule with my boy, I bid you both a fond farewell,” Elrond said, dipping his head to the two of them. Both Finny and Kíli returned the gesture as the elf lord retreated. As soon as Elrond had left Finny all but tackled him in a hug,

“You don’t know how happy you’ve made me!” She exclaimed, as Kíli’s arms came to wrap around her waist. He laughed softly as Finny pressed her face into his neck,

“Really? I didn’t know it meant so much to you,” Reluctantly he let go as Finny pulled away,

“Of course it does! It saddens me to see you and the rest of the company so uneasy.” she replied, Kíli smiled softly,

“I would have done it sooner had I known it would make you smile like this,” Finny let out a small strangled noise, quickly bubbling up into a flustered laugh. She cleared her throat, turning her gaze from his.

“I suppose we have some time,” she said, “Before we should report back to everyone,” Kíli nodded,

“Walk with me then?” he asked, offering out his arm to her.

“I’d like that,” she replied softly, placing her hand on his arm and tucking herself close to him.

He asked her what else she’d discovered in Rivendell and she regaled him with all the time she had spent in the libraries and observing the elves. Her voice was like a song, a soft melody in his ears and it put him at peace. He could listen to her talk for days and not tire. As long as she stayed close to him. He needed nothing more.

Chapter Text

Midsummer's Eve arrived in no time. And the moon was in the position they needed for Lord Elrond to read the map. Again Finny was invited to the meeting, which she had mixed feelings about. On one hand, she was excited to discover what the moon runes said, but then again, Thorin was also at this meeting. Which was not ideal.

Finny was hanging onto her uncle’s arm, following after Elrond as he led them out to an overlook covered by a waterfall. Moonlight streamed through the water, refracting silver rays. Elrond approached a large crystal platform, laying out the map, (which Thorin had been reluctant to hand over again.)

“I believe you were meant to come to Rivendell,” Elrond said, looking down at Thorin as he laid out the map onto the crystal. The moon light revealed a set of dwarvish runes, written in silver light. Finny breathed out slowly, craning her neck and creeping closer to the platform. “Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole,” Thorin’s eyes lit up as the words were read, moving closer to Elrond, moving to touch the map.

“Durin’s Day?” Finny asked, looking between Thorin and Balin.

“It is the start of the dwarrow new year, when the last moon of autumn, and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together,” Gandalf supplied, placing a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder.

“This is ill news,” Thorin said, face hardening, “Summer is passing, Durin’s Day will soon be upon us,”

“We still have time,” Balin replied, moving to placate Thorin.

“Time… time for what?” Bilbo asked, squeezing Finny’s hand.

“To find the entrance.” Balin replied, looking to the hobbits. Their burglars. “We have to be standing in exactly the right spot, at exactly the right. Then, and only then, can the door be opened,”

‘The key,’ Finny thought, looking at Thorin, spotting the leather strip that held the key, sitting on his neck, tucked under his tunic.

“So this is your purpose,” Elrond said, raising an eyebrow toward Thorin. “To enter the mountain,” Finny had her suspicions that Elrond had known all along why they were there, but just had yet to reveal it till now.

“What of it,” Thorin snapped. Elrond inclined his head toward the king, folding up the map and handing it back to Thorin.

“There are many who would deem it unwise,” Finny glanced up at Elrond before jerking her gaze to Thorin. She didn’t know exactly what the elf meant but if she thought about the quest for too long she thought it may be folly too. But then she was reminded that it was most likely that Thorin had been planning this quest for a long time. And that every move from here to the mountain had been carefully plotted.

Well… except for her and her uncle.

“Who do you mean?” Gandalf asked, Elrond glanced at him.

“You are not the only guardian to stand watch over middle-earth,” he replied. The elf lord dipped his head before leaving them. Gandalf’s brow furrowed.

“Always so cryptic,” Bilbo murmured, Gandalf turned to Thorin.

“Gather your company. We need to speak urgently.” Gandalf said, before leaving in a flurry of gray cloak.

“Also cryptic,” Thorin grumbled, causing a small smile from Bilbo. Finny glanced between the two of them, but left it alone. If Thorin didn’t like her, at least he could pick one burglar to like.

“We need to leave,” Thorin said gruffly, as soon as the company had gathered.

“Agreed,” Gandalf replied, “I believe the elves will stop us soon. Lord Elrond has requested my presence at a meeting tonight,” Finny glanced between the wizard and the king. “I think it may be best if you slip away while the elves' attention is drawn to me.” Thorin nodded,

“We have lingered here too long already. Time is waning, we have to reach the mountain before Durin’s Day.”

“And if we don’t?” Bilbo asked,

“Then we will not be able to enter the mountain for another year,” Balin said grimly, a somber silence falling over the dwarves of the company.

“Tonight, make as if to bed. I will keep Lord Elrond distracted for as long as I can so that you can slip away undetected. I will rejoin you in the mountains.” Gandalf said. She felt Kíli bumped her elbow, giving her a small smile. She glanced over at her Uncle, who all of sudden looked unsure of himself, shoulders hunched down. It wasn’t often that Bilbo Baggins looked unsure of himself, and part of it unsettled it her

“What about Finny and I?” Bilbo asked, looking to the wizard. “Shouldn’t we stay here with you?” Finny let out a small yelp at the prospect, mouth immediately going to protest.

“No!” Ori exclaimed, “You belong with us!”

“Yes!” Nori agreed instantly, the dwarrow of the company began to clamber with encouragement. Bilbo didn’t seem elated like she was with the affirmation from the company that they wanted the two hobbits around.

“We have come at Gandalf’s behest,”

“Well I certainly did not!” Finny snapped, “I signed a contract, and I intend to see the quest fulfilled.” Bilbo shot her a look,

“Gandalf knows us best,” Bilbo continued, pointedly ignoring his niece. “I think it would be best for all involved if Finny and I stay here with him.”

“Gandalf’s name isn’t on the contract, mine is,” Thorin replied, stepping to the hobbits. Bilbo seemed to shrink in on himself while Finny stood defiantly, watching Thorin. “One you signed to forfeit your niece from certain peril. If this is about her protection then Finny can stay in Rivendell.”

“But I don’t want to,” Finny replied, exasperation filling her voice. “I said I’d be your burglar and I will! I didn’t come this far just to leave halfway through. If I didn’t want to be here I would have stayed home.”

Bilbo shot her another agitated look,

“If… if Finny believes we should continue on with the company. Then I shall continue on as well.” An uproarious cheer went up among the company, hands coming to clap the backs of their burglars. Finny beamed up at the dwarves, before turning to her uncle. He still looked so unsure. When she met his gaze, there were so many emotions swirling on his face. Pride, fear, anger, hesitation, anxiety, love. Slowly she made her way to his side, pressing herself into his arms.

“I love you uncle,” she whispered, Bilbo sighed,

“I love you too my dear one,” whatever it was her uncle was feeling, she didn’t know. But she wanted to reassure him. To let him know he’s made the right decision to come after her. And that she would not disappoint him.

It had been almost a week since Kíli had taken Elrond’s hand in friendship and he found himself breathing easier than he had in his entire stay in Rivendell. He no longer found himself looking for malice in the elves' every mood, instead finding himself grateful for the respite that was being offered. They were well fed and cared for, and far safer than when they had been on the road. Besides, the elvish home was peaceful.

The only thing he did not prefer about Rivendell is that Finny was running off consistently. He knew she was not meant to be at his every beck and call, but in the wild she rarely left his side. He was… lonely without her. In Ered Luin he hadn’t really had any other friends other than Fíli. Simply based on the fact that there were barely any dwarrow his age in Ered Luin, so there was no way for him to make friends. And now that he had Finny, he only wanted to be around her.

He hadn’t seen Finny since lunch. As soon as lunch had ended she had left with Bilbo to spend some time with her Uncle. Bilbo had returned a while later, in a more amiable mood than before. But Finny was still gone, and now her absence had begun to weigh on his mind. Kíli had gone earlier to look for her, looking in all of her known favorite places but she was nowhere to be found. Besides, with their impending departure from Rivendell looming, Thorin wanted the company to stick close together as not to rouse the elves suspicions.

He moved to the company now, looking among the dwarrow.

“Has anyone seen Finny?” he asked,

“Haven’t seen her,” Ori replied, “Not since lunch,” Bofur started to make an obnoxious kissing noise, earning a loud cackle from the whole of the company. Kíli's face flushed bright red, as Bofur fell over rolling with laughter.

“Very helpful,” Kíli grumbled, turning away from the company, well if they weren’t going to help him, he’d find Finny himself. He stalked off into Rivendell, the dying sun casting a fading glow over his body.

His mind began to wander, the flush on his face refusing to die. The company didn’t know anything. Nothing. They didn’t know what was going on in his head, or what he felt for Finny, or even what kind of person she was. He stumbled into a clearing, a fountain in the middle, spouting sparkling water into the air. There were shrubs lining the area, filled with delicate white flowers. Sitting at the edge of the fountain was Finny. She was swinging her legs in the water. Kíli let out a short breath, before moving toward her. The closer he got, the more saddened he became at the melancholy look on her face. He had learned quickly that the hobbit easily became ensnared in her own mind, drowning in her own thoughts.

Finny turned as his footsteps approached, before ducking his gaze. “Mind if I sit?” he asked, moving to stand next to her. Finny gave him a small smile before shaking her head and scooting over. Kíli took his place next to her, placing his hands in his lap as Finny fiddled with the hem of her dress. “I was looking for you,” Finny gave a non committal hum, refusing to look at him. Slowly Kíli lifted his hand, running a knuckle over her cheek. “Will you always look this sad?” She laughed, snuffling,

“No,” she whispered, turning to look at him. And there was a warmth to her brown eyes that gave him certainty that she was telling the truth.

“Do you…” he paused, dropping his hand, “Want to talk about it?” She opened her mouth, no words coming out. She sighed, brow furrowing in frustration.

“I… I don’t have the words,” she replied after a moment, she hesitated, going silent for a moment. “I don’t have the words,” She whispered, Kíli watched her for a moment. He wished to see her smile again. To pull her out of the thoughts she was drowning in, “I would tell you if–”

“Shh,” he whispered abruptly, Finny stared at him, brow creasing minutely, “Do you hear that?” She stilled, listening with him, Kíli’s lips twitched up into a smile, looking at her. “Fíli’s singing,” Finny looked up, a soft smile gracing her lips.

“I didn’t know he sang,” she replied, as Kíli moved to stand.

He just wanted to see her smile. He offered out his hand to her,

“Dance with me?” he asked, Finny’s eyes fell to his hand before she looked up to him, smiling,

“Yes,” she replied softly, taking his hand. Slowly Kíli brought her around, his hand coming to rest on her waist as she slid her hand over his shoulder. Kíli knew the song well, swaying gently with the breeze, before spinning her out.

‘And I will love you till the mountains turn to dust,’ Fíli’s voice was carrying in the evening air, it was soft and distant but just clear enough for them to be able to keep time with the music. ‘And I will love you till the forge burns out on us,’ Finny laughed brightly as he drew away from her, interlocking their hands, before spinning them around. ‘And when the sun burns out in the sky, till the end it’ll be just you and I.’ Kíli lifted her up in the air. Her hair was dancing in the wind, her laughter like a melody. She was more beautiful than anyone he had ever seen. Finny landed, drawing herself close to him, resting her head against his chest. Her body was warm against his, their faces flushed. She laughed softly, as Kíli nuzzled the top of her head, burying his nose into her curls. ‘For I never knew I needed a love such as this, but I will love you till the world falls into the abyss.’ Finny pulled back, deep brown eyes meeting him. He swore he could see stars in her gaze. Finny’s eyes flitted to his lips, before she slowly stepped back, not dropping his hand. She laughed breathlessly, struggling to hold his gaze.

“I… thank you,” she whispered, he smiled, squeezing her hand.

“You’re welcome,” he replied softly, “Anything to see you smile,” She finally pulled away, moon-eyed.

“...walk with me?” she asked softly, eyes pleading. Kíli nodded, offering his arms as he had so many nights before. Neither of them said anything as they walked, comfortable silence passing between them as Finny rested her head against his arm, breathing evenly.

As they began to pass under one of the many bridges in Rivendell Finny stilled, tilting her head.

“Hear something?” Kíli asked in a low tone. He knew that the hobbit had far better hearing than he did as she had proved many times before. She nodded slowly, suddenly moving to plaster their backs to the wall, going silent. Kíli stilled, as footsteps approached overhead with the hushed voices of Gandalf and Lord Elrond following.

“Of course I was going to tell you,” Gandalf said, his voice agitated, but trying to remain diplomatic, “I was waiting for this very chance. And I think that really you can trust that I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Elrond shot back, Kíli’s brow furrowed, but stayed quiet as Finny squeezed his arm, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she listened. “That dragon has slept for sixty years. What will happen if your plan should fail?” So Gandalf had been right. The elves were going to try and stop them. They thought the quest was folly. “If you wake the beast?”

“And what if we succeed?” Gandalf asked, “If the dwarves retake the mountain, our defenses in the east will be strengthened.” Kíli had long known that Gandalf had to have wanted something out of this quest, as he hadn’t taken a contract for a share in the treasures of the mountain. Erebor lay on a line as a last defense between Middle Earth and Mordor. If both Erebor and Gondor were strong it would stand as a benefit for the rest of Middle Earth. Including the protection of places like the Shire, and Ered Luin.

“It is a dangerous move, Gandalf,” Elrond replied,

“It is also dangerous to do nothing,” Gandalf snapped, as diplomatically as he could. “The throne of Erebor is Thorin’s birthright. What is it you fear?”

“Have you forgotten?” Elrond asked, voice hard, “A strain of madness runs deep in that family.” Kíli’s heart dropped into his stomach, “His grandfather lost his mind. His father lost himself to the same sickness. Can you promise me that Thorin Oakenshield won’t also fall?”

Kíli knew the stories. The hushed whispers and stares. The uncertainty surrounding Thorin his mental wellbeing on the trip. How the king may fare when they return to Thror’s treasure hoard. How he and Fíli would react.

The two princes had lived their entire lives in poverty and exile. What would become of their minds when faced with more gold and riches than they could possibly imagine.

It would be a lie to say that the sickness in his family didn’t weigh heavily on his mind. The voices fell away as Kíli’s mind descended into what-ifs.

“Kíli?” Finny whispered, he turned, knowing that his face was stricken, and her eyes met his, deep concern written into her features. “What does Lord Elrond mean?” His breathing stuttered, words becoming caught in his throat. The fear that he could feel enclosing his chest.

“There’s…” He turned his face from hers, “It’s called dragon sickness. A deep longing and lust for gold and treasure. It’s what befell my great grandfather Thror.” he whispered, “People say that it’s why my grandfather disappeared. And… they say that it might take Thorin as well. It’s a deep jealous need. You don’t care for anything but treasure.” He could feel tears gathering at his lashes now, voice breaking, “It could take me. And Fíli. We are of the line of Durin. I fear the gold. For I believe I’ll lose myself, and never come back.” Finny lurched into his chest, embracing him with all of her might. It sucked the air right out of him as he stumbled back attempting to steady himself. She buried her face deep into his tunic,

“I wouldn’t let it take you,” She whispered with an unwavering resolve. His arms came to wind around her, holding her close. He wished he could carve out a place in her soul for himself, and curl up in the light and be buried in it. He wished he could always remain like this, held in her arms.

The next morning…

The early morning chill of summer coming to a close and autumn beginning was clinging to Finny’s skin as the company made their way out of Rivendell. They hiked up the side of the cliff, laden with supplies to help them reach the mountain. The sun was only just beginning to crest over the horizon, casting a pale glow over the company.

They came to an abrupt halt as Thorin slowed, staking the hilt of his ax into the ground. “Be on your guard,” Thorin called, “We are about to step over the edge into the wilds.” He turned to his advisor, side stepping out of the way, “Balin, you know these paths, lead on,”

“Right you are laddie,” Balin replied, moving to the front and beginning to walk. Finny cast one more look back at Rivendell before hiking up after Kíli.

“Master Baggins!” Thorin called, “I suggest you keep up,” Finny glanced back to see her Uncle lingering, looking longingly back at Rivendell. She tapped Kíli’s elbow, jerking her head back at her Uncle. The dwarf nodded in understanding as Finny crept back to walk with her Uncle. He offered her a small smile, before moving his eyes to the road. His silence was beginning to make her uncomfortable. It wasn’t the silence one could associate with peace. Or contentment. It was one where her uncle greatly worried about something, but would not tell her as he did not wish to ail her. She was hoping by walking with him, remaining close to him, she would be able to ease the heaviness on his mind.

And they walked. They walked, and walked, and walked. For two weeks they traveled with minimal rest, Thorin running them ragged now that he knew they must reach the mountain by Durin’s Day. Finny knew it was unhelpful to let her thoughts wander in such a way, but she missed Rivendell. She missed having a warm bed to sleep in, and having seven meals a day. She missed the peace that Rivendell had provided, and the respite from the constant fear.

But she knew she had to push herself. She had wanted to come. She had said that she would be their burglar. She had promised herself to help the dwarrow reclaim their homeland, and she wouldn’t turn away now.

Everytime she felt the doubts creeping into her mind, she’d feel Kíli’s fingers brushing up against hers. The press of his shoulder against hers. The twinkle of his smile as he laughed too hard at his own joke.

It was him that made the hardships of the road bearable. They had one another to lean on.

She knew she was in the right place.

Chapter Text

Fear.

Fear was what drove Thorin to lash out.

Fear was what drove Thorin to curl in on himself, putting up a thorned shield around his heart so he would not know grief again.

He’d known too much loss to let people close anymore. He couldn’t care anymore, for it would shatter him. The years he had spent gluing himself back together would fall apart in seconds with just enough pressure.

And that pressure was coming in the form of two hobbits.

The rain was pouring in torrential waves down upon. The pelting water had almost blinded them, as they tried to push forward. Thorin kept his right hand clutched against slick mountain stone, while he inched forward, trying to ignore the sheer drop on his left side. He knew that crossing the Misty Mountains was going to be challenging, as most of it was sheer cliffs that they could only travel across single file.

“We must find shelter!” He cried, hoping the company could hear him over the loud claps of thunder. Lightning flashed, illuminating the cliffs only for a moment. Thorin risked only one look back, catching Finny’s eyes as she clambered forward, her hand fisted into the back of Kíli’s coat, and Fíli’s hand firmly on her shoulder.

He would never admit it but he was thankful that his nephews had taken to watching over the girl.

“Watch out!” Dwalin cried, Thorin plastered himself against the cliff wall as a boulder was rocketed through the air, only illuminated for an instant by the lightning before it crashed into the mountain’s side. The rocks splintered and cried, showering the company with mountain shards.

“This is no thunderstorm!” Balin shouted, “It’s a thunder battle! LOOK!” Thorin squinted as the lightning flashed revealing a giant man made of stone rising out of the mountain side. It ripped a stone from the mountain, reeling back to hurl the stone high into the air.

“By my beard!” Bofur bellowed, “the legends are true! Giants! STONE GIANTS!” A scream was swept away in the wind as stone flew through the air. The ground began to shake, rising up and splitting apart. They were standing right on one of the giants. And it was moving. The company began to shout, reaching for one another as they were pulled apart.

“Finny!” Kíli screamed, as Fíli grabbed the back of the hobbit’s dress just in time, yanking her into the safety of his arms. Thorin watched in horror as his youngest nephew flew away from him with half of his company, hurtling away. The giants began to fight, sending shockwaves down to the company below. They threw giant stone fists at each other, ripping apart the mountain side for weaponry, clashing together.

A giant stone flew through the air, colliding directly with the giant they were currently riding, sending the massive creature reeling and collapsing back into the mountain. Thorin watched frozen as the knee of the giant carrying half his company collided with the mountain. Crushing them.

Crushing Kíli.

Thorin couldn’t stop the scream of anguish and denial that escaped his lips as he ran toward where the giant had fallen away.

“Kíli!” he screamed. He turned the corner, stumbling to a halt, almost collapsing against the mountain in relief.

“We’re alive!” Balin called, struggling to his feet. Thorin rushed to Kíli’s side, helping his nephew to his feet and pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m alright,” Kíli murmured, grasping Thorin’s forearm. He nodded silently, soaking in the feeling that they were all still there and alive.

“Bilbo? Bilbo!” Bofur called, looking around frantically, “where’s the hobbit!” Thorin snapped around to see Bilbo hanging from the ledge, small fingers gripping at the slick rocks trying to pull himself up. Bofur and Ori both dove forward, reaching for the hobbit desperately shouting for him to grab their hands.

Somewhere in the chaos he could hear Finny yelling, as she tried to lunge for her uncle but Fíli caught her by the waist, holding her back. Thorin reacted without thinking, rushing to the edge and dropping over the cliff face, one strong hand clasped to the rock as he reached for Bilbo. Dwalin quickly joined him at the edge, grabbing Thorin’s hand just as Thorin's left hand latched onto Bilbo’s coat. Adrenaline was racing through his veins now, as he heaved Bilbo up towards Bofur and Ori’s outstretched arms. Rain was still pelting down upon them as Dwalin helped heave Thorin back upward to safe ground. The king let out several heaving breaths, staggering to his feet. Dwalin fell back with a chuckle of relief.

“Uncle!” Finny cried, launching herself into the elder hobbit’s arms. If Thorin had listened he would have heard her crying over the rain. Bilbo snapped back to reality, face incredibly pale and eyes blown wide in fear. He turned his head into his niece’s temple, murmuring quietly to her as the girl shook in his arms.

“I thought we’d lost our burglar!” Dwalin said through a barked out laugh. Finny finally pulled her face away from her Uncle’s, looking up at Thorin.

Her eyes were red rimmed and her chin was still quivering.

And just like with the trolls he could feel himself being sucked into a dizzying pool of dread and rage. It’s why he had pushed the hobbits away in the first place.

Thorin didn’t care. (He cared too much)

He knew from the beginning that it had been a mistake that they came. Both of them were going to get themselves killed, and he could not bring himself to be responsible for their deaths.

For the loss of their smiles. Their soft and gentle demeanors. Their brave and kind hearts.

He couldn’t let them become hard and ruined like he was.

And as he always did, Thorin refused to let himself be afraid. Instead he let the anger take over.

“He has been lost ever since he left home.” Thorin snapped, chest heaving with the anger alighting in his mind. “Neither of them should have come. The halflings have no place amongst us.” He held Finny’s gaze as her face crumpled, turning away.

The defiance was gone. And all that was left before him was a shaking child.

And he hated it. Hated that he had ever let her come.

If she died. It would be his fault.

“Move out,” Thorin growled, stomping forward,

“Don’t cry Finny…” he squared his shoulders as they finally spotted a cave tucked into the cave side.

It was for the best. And if Finny hated him, at least she would be alive to be able to hate him.

Bilbo laid silently, stiff as a board on the cold stone listening to the breathing of the company even out into sleep.

He knew it was a mistake. All along he had known from that very second he bolted out his door that followed after a company of dwarves into the unknown. He wasn’t a Took, he was a Baggins.

He belonged in his hobbit hole, with his garden, his books, and his routines. He didn’t belong in the wilds. It had been a silly fantasy, and Bilbo should have never indulged it.

He knew now that it was time for him to get his head out of a whim and get home.

The danger was too great now, and he didn’t know what had possessed him to let Finny continue on this journey. He should have grabbed her by the ear and dragged her all the way home where she would be safe and warm and loved.

He knew that Finny was going to hate him. But she would get over it. She loved too easily, but the dwarrow would fade from her memory and this all would be a bad dream.

Finally the last of the dwarrow had fallen into a deep sleep, and Bilbo rose silently. Hurriedly he packed his bag, strapping it on his back before he moved toward Finny.

She was fast asleep, curled up against Kíli’s arm. Her chest rose and fell softly, face even with the peace of sleep.

A moment of hesitation seized his heart at the peace on her face.

‘It’s for the best’

Gingerly he grabbed her shoulder, shaking her gently.

“Finny, wake up, darling,” he whispered. Finny’s face scrunched, murmuring softly as she woke.

“Uncle?” she asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Pack your things, we’re leaving,” His niece’s brow furrowed as she sat up.

“Why?” she asked, cocking her head. “Did Thorin say we’re leaving?” Bilbo shook his head,

“No, you and I are going back to Rivendell. Pack your things.” he replied firmly, Finny’s face fell.

“What?” she whispered, “But– but we can’t leave now! Please Uncle!” Her voice was still hushed, but frantic, voice becoming thick.

“We are hobbits,” Bilbo hissed, “we were made for baking, and gardening, and a homely house. We were not made for the wilds. We are going home.”

“But uncle, please!” Finny cried softly, “this journey is important to me,”

“Pack your things now.” Bilbo replied sharply, “I’m not giving you a choice,”

Finny ducked his gaze, a tear trickling down her face. Finally she moved, grabbing her bag and rolling up her bedding.

He moved from her, beginning to move toward the entrance of the cave. Bilbo paused as Finny stared longingly at Kíli’s sleeping form before she hurriedly grabbed her journal, opening it and scribbling some sort of note onto the page. She tore the page, carefully folding it, tucking it into the pocket of Kíli’s coat.

It was a wisp. An inkling of something that might be.

This was the first time Finny had loved. But it would not be her last. That he knew. She was young.

There would be others.

But there was something special about a first love. And one that Finny wouldn’t easily forget.

Finally she stood, following reluctantly in Bilbo’s footsteps. He extended his hand to her and hesitantly she took it. Silently they tip-toed over sleeping dwarrow to the entrance of the cave. They began to duck out of the cave,

“Where are you going!” Bofur exclaimed softly, jumping to his feet. Bilbo turned, eyes hard.

“Back to Rivendell,” he replied, squeezing Finny’s hand tighter.

“No, no, no you can’t turn back now!” Bofur said, moving toward the hobbits. “You’re a part of the company! You’re one of us,” he replied earnestly. Finny whimpered, turning away from Bofur’s face.

“We’re not though,” Bilbo replied, smiling bitterly, “Are we. Thorin thinks we never should have come. I’m not a Took, I’m a Baggins. I don’t know what I was thinking. I never should have run out of my door. And I never should have let Finny go. She is in my charge, and I have let her put herself into too much danger. We are going home.”

“You’re homesick,” Bofur responded, “I understand,” Bilbo finally snapped, the pain of months worth of discrimination finally bubbling over.

“No you don’t!” he hissed, “None of you do!” The dwarrow would never understand. The home he had worked so hard to build. The pain that he and Finny had suffered in the first few months after she had come to live with him. The little family they had built where he had taken on his sister’s children as his own when he had passed marrying age and would have no children that were his.

He would never tell Finny but he saw her as his daughter. And he couldn’t let her suffer any longer. He couldn’t see her come to harm. “You’re dwarrow! You’re used to this– this life! To life on the road, never remaining in one place, never belonging anywhere!”

He knew the words had cut too deep the moment they left his mouth. He watched as Bofur’s face fall, the insecurity of never having had a real home coming out full force. “I’m – I’m sorry, I didn’t…” Bofur swallowed hard, stepping toward the hobbits.

“No you’re right.” the dwarf replied softly, “we don’t belong anywhere.” Finny choked off another whimper. Bofur’s hand landed on Bilbo’s shoulder, “I wish you both all the luck in the world, I truly do,” Bilbo nodded, grasping Bofur’s forearm. He gave the dwarf one last nod, before turning for the cave entrance. “What’s that?” Bilbo glanced back at Bofur who’s eyes were glued to the sword at the hobbit’s side. Bilbo glanced down, slowly drawing the sword from its sheath. A pale blue glow filled the room as the sword came to light.

It will glow blue when goblins or orcs are nearby.

The floor began to groan, mechanical crackling and whining. The floor was turning to sand beneath their feet.

“Wake up, WAKE UP!” Thorin shouted. The dwarrow jumped up just as the floor caved beneath their feet, sending the screaming dwarrow plummeting deep into the ground.

A choked scream flew from Finny’s lips as she landed into a chute beneath the floor, landing on top of a pile of squirming dwarrow caught in a giant wooden cage.

She struggled upward as the dwarves began to try and stand up. Finny’s eyes widened at the thundering of feet and the screeching of…

Goblins.

The horde of creatures was upon them in an instant, groping hands grabbing their arms and clothing and dragging the company out of the cage.

A horn blew, and goblins screamed as the dwarrow clamored. The goblins shoved them roughly down a path, single file. Any attempt to pull away was met with a firm lash from whips that the goblins wielded.

At the first crack of a whip, Finny stumbled backward, fear ripping through her chest as she tried to back away.

CRACK! A wrecked scream wrenched its way from her throat as a goblin’s whip came down upon her back.

Thorin caught her shoulder, pulling her in front of him and pushing her to keep walking. She could feel he hand running over the back of her dress,

“It didn’t break your skin, you’re gonna be fine,” he hissed, “Stay close to me, keep your head down, don’t make a sound,” Finny nodded tightly, fists closing. The king’s hand never left her shoulder as they were all shoved forward. She smashed her hands over her ears as a loud cry echoed through the caves, drums began to pound, goblin feet stomping creating a cacophony of noise crying out through the cave.

Finally they arrived at a grand room, pushed in front of the largest goblin yet. His body was bulbous, skin pale and pimpled. Skin raw and sick. His chin was swinging, warts covering his body as he stopped along with the goblins' song.

Her breathing began to increase, hands clenching and unclenching, a thin sheen of sweat coating her forehead. They were quickly stropped down on their weapons, throwing them to the ground at the feet of the goblin king.

“Who would be so bold as to come into my kingdom so heavily armed?” Finny stared at her sword in the pile, fingers twitching. Thorin’s hand fisted into the sleeve of her dress, and gave one firm shake of his head. She swallowed as the king let go, and nudged her toward Fíli. She watched him go, stepping toward the front of the cobble of dwarves. “Spies? Thieves? Assassins?”

“Dwarves your malevolence,” a goblin replied, looking back to his king.

“Dwarves?”

“We found them on the front porch,” Finny’s brow furrowed, glancing between the goblins.

“Well don’t just stand there!” the king screeched, “search them! Every crack, every crevice!” The goblins passed Finny by, moving onto the dwarrow and ripping their coats and clothes apart in search of anything and everything they could find.

Finny grimaced as Oin’s trumpet was ripped from his hand and squashed underfoot. The shoving and trampling continued as grabbing goblin hands roamed their bodies in search of any weapons or treasures. She blinked as a goblin pulled a candlestick from Nori’s jacket holding it up triumphantly,

“And they are in league with elves!” the goblin cried, passing the golden stick to his king. The king turned the prize over, reading the fine print on the bottom.

“Made… in Rivendell.” he scoffed, “Second age, couldn’t give it away!” He chucked the gold piece away. It clinked off of rocks in the distance. All eyes fell on Nori who shrugged guiltily,

“What?” he asked, “Just a couple of keepsakes,” Dwalin sighed roughly, rolling his eyes.

“What are you doing in these parts?” The goblin demanded. Thorin began to step forward but Was caught by Oin,

“Ah don’t worry lads, I’ll handle this,” he declared, stepping toward the goblin.

“No tricks!” The king cried, sitting back in his throne, “I want the truth! warts and all!”

“You’re going to have to speak up,” Oin replied indignantly, “Your boys flattened ma trumpet!”

“I’ll flatten more than your trumpet!” The goblin king cried, jumping up from his chair. He stalked forward, throwing his subjects out of the way with his massive paws as he bore down on the company. Finny stumbled back, caught only by Thorin’s hand as he jerked her into an upright position.

“If you want information!” Bofur cried, shoving his way to the front, “Then I’m the one you should speak to.” Finny swallowed hard, fisting her dress. The goblin king slowed, eyeing Bofur. “You see we were on the road. Well, not so much a road as a path— actually now that I think about it it’s not even that. It’s more like a track. Anyway the point is we were on a road like a path like a track, and then we weren’t! …Which is a problem because we were supposed to be in Dunland last Tuesday.”

“Visiting distant relations!” Dori added, jumping in next to Bofur.

“SHUT! UP!” The goblin king roared. All of the goblins cowered and the company froze. “If they will not talk, we’ll make them squawk!” The goblins began to roar excitedly, “BRING ME THE MANGLER! BRING UP THE BONEBREAKER!” The goblin king turned toward the company. He leveled a bulbous finger in Finny’s face. “We’ll start with the YOUNGEST!” Goblin hands latched onto her arms, her clothes , dragging her forward. She screamed as she was thrown down at the goblin king’s feet, curling in on herself as another whip lashed down on her arm.

“WAIT!” Thorin roared, the dwarf’s hand landed on her arm, pulling her to her feet and pushing her toward Dwalin. The elder dwarf caught her, turning so that she was behind him.

“Well, well, well,” The goblin king said, eyeing Thorin over. Finny swallowed hard, hand fisting into Dwalin’s coat she watched the dwarven king. “Look who it is. Thorin, son of Thrain! Son of Thror! King! Under the mountain!” The goblin bowed mockingly, a sneer etched into his face. “Oh- but I’m forgetting. You don’t have a mountain. And you’re not a king. So that makes you… no one really.” Finny’s gaze hardened, molten anger pooling in her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this angry. “I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head.” A chill wracked its way up her spine, “Just the head,” she shuddered, “Nothing attached.”

She felt sick. “Perhaps you know of whom I speak?” Finny swallowed, watching Thorin’s back. The king had tensed. Only slightly, but it was just enough for her to notice. “An old enemy of yours. A pale orc astride a white warg.”

“Azog the defiler is dead,” Thorin grit. “He was slain in battle long ago.” The goblin grinned maliciously,

“So you think his defiling days are done?” The king chuckled lowly, before turning to a scribe. “Send word to the pale orc, tell him I’ve found his prize.” Giggling gleefully, the scribe whisked away. Finny watched him go, turning to look back at the rest of the company.

Her heart dropped.

Where was her uncle?

“Dwalin,” she whispered, “Where’s my uncle, I don’t see him, where is he?” She shook his coat as Dwalin’s head lifted, scanning the company. He pulled Finny to his chest, holding her a little tighter.

“I’m sure he’s here somewhere, just hang tight. We’ll find him.” he replied,

The goblins began to sing again. A horrible raucous melody that bounced off the cavern walls. It was some song about their torture that made Finny curl in on herself even more as the goblins pressed in. Grabbing hands continued to shove and push and pull. She whimpered as another goblin grabbed a fistful of hair, jerking her back from Dwalin. His hand was on the goblin in an instant, grabbing the beast and shoving it off the side. Dwalin turned, pushing her behind him– a horrific shriek arose from the crowd of goblins as one of them threw Thorin’s elvish sword to the ground. The goblin king lept back, crawling up away from the blade onto his throne.

“I know that sword!” he howled, pointing a shaking finger at the sheathed blade. “It’s the goblin cleaver! THE BITER!” Finny screamed as the goblins began to rain down whip strikes among the company. She fell to the ground, curling her hands around her neck as pain wracked its way through her body, repeated whip lashes cracking down upon her back, her arms, her legs.

Everything hurt.

“KILL THEM ALL!” the goblin king roared.

The world went white. Light flooded the cavern as a rush of roaring wind sent the goblins flying. Their machines of torture were blown away, smashing to smithereens. Her ears were ringing as she slowly uncurled from the ground,

“Take up arms,” A familiar voice said, she lifted her head, starting to push herself to her feet. “Fight. FIGHT!” The dwarrow were on their feet in an instant as Nori scrambled over to their piles of weapons chucking them to the company.

“DUCK!” Dwalin shouted, and Finny dropped as the dwarf swiped his sword at an oncoming goblin. She jumped up as Fíli tossed her sword which she caught, swiping at the arm of a goblin who tried to make a grab for her.

“Thorin!” Nori yelled, throwing Orcist up to the dwarven king who grabbed the blade, thrusting the goblin king back. The giant creature stumbled, careening over the edge taking some of his army with him.

Finny jumped as a goblin rushed forward, on instinct she jabbed forward, the goblin skewering onto her sword. She yelped, as the goblin screamed, falling forward off of her sword into a bloody heap on the ground.

“Follow me! Quickly!” Gandalf cried, Kíli grabbed her arm.

“Come on Finny, this way!” The company raced after the wizard, running through the goblins tunnels. The screams of goblins echoed off the walls as the thundering of feet trailed after them.

“Make way!” Gandalf hollered, swinging his staff wildly. The rickety wooden platforms creaked and groaned underneath their frantic feet as they charged down further into the tunnels.

“JUMP!” Fíli cried, as a group of goblins descended from above, cutting their troop in half, sending half the company flying. Finny landed roughly on her side, groaning as she tried to shove herself to her feet. She screamed, rolling to the side as a goblin hacked at her. Kicking hard, she nailed the creature in the shin, sending it hobbling back, howling. Fíli was at her side in seconds, hacking his sword into the goblin’s neck. Blood sprayed, bile rose in her throat as she watched the goblin keel over. Dead.

“Finny, come on, we’ve gotta find the others.” Fíli grabbed her arm, pulling her up, brow pressed together in worry. She jerked her gaze away from the corpse laying at her feet, eyes snapping up to meet Fíli. “We’re gonna get out of here. Stay close to me.” She nodded shakily, swallowing hard and running after Fíli when he started. Barreling forward Fíli tore anything that stepped in front of him to shreds, followed by what part of the company was still with them.

The dwarrow were tearing through the goblins as though it was nothing, and Finny could only try to stay out of the way. Everything that Dwalin and Fíli had taught her had left her now and she tried to focus on running. Finally their path led back to the company and they were reunited. Finny gasped as goblins swung forward on ropes down toward the company, weapons raised.

“Cut the ropes!” Thorin roared, brandishing her sword, Finny hacked down on the ropes tying down a rickety wooden platform. The platform gave way, collapsing forward, catching the swinging goblins and tying them up in their own ropes.

“Hurry!” Gandalf yelled, stumbling back Finny chased after the dwarrow, slashing forward as a goblin lunged for her. She skidded to a halt as Kili staggered, dodging arrows from encroaching goblins. He flicked his blade, deflecting the crude arrows to the ground.

Finny’s gaze snapped over, spotting a ladder. She grabbed the ladder, jumping in front of Kíli, watching the arrows thwack into wood.

“Push it forward!” Kíli called, grabbing the other side of the ladder and shoving it forward onto the goblins.

“PUSH!” Dwalin hollered, the goblins stumbled backward as the dwarrow pressed forward. Hurtling toward an overpass they chucked the ladder forward, covering a break in the canyon line. As goblins fell they nimbly scampered across the ladder bridge, and Fíli kicked it down the gorge as soon as they had landed safely on the other side.

Sprinting down a narrow canyon ledge the dwarrow fought their way forward, sending goblins crashing down in their wake. They reached another break in the canyon line. Advancing they rushed onto a wooden platform. Finny’s gaze jerked over, spotting a mechanism attached to the wooden platform. It was meant to be a lift. Without thinking, she slashed her blade forward into the rope and sent the lift flying. The company hurtled toward the other side of the canyon,

“Jump!” Thorin shouted, leaping from the platform onto solid ground. Half of the company leapt from the platform, but the other half wasn’t quick enough. The lift swung back toward the waiting goblins, who jumped to board the lift as soon as they were within reach. A goblin ran for her, but Finny was faster, shoving her foot into its face and sending it flying.

The lift swung back to the other half of the company, and this time she jumped, Thorin caught her arm, steadying her before pushing her off to Dwalin.

Fíli hacked the last ropes the lift was on, sending it crashing to the ground. Kíli caught his brother’s arm, pulling him to safety. “GO!” Thorin ordered, and no one thought twice about continuing their run. Gandalf led them forward, sweeping goblins aside in massive strokes of his staff, easily clearing a path for the company.

Finny had zero idea where Gandalf was leading them. In her eyes it seemed as though they were only traveling further down into the goblins’ caves. She didn’t have time to stop and question now, so she shoved away her doubts, and put her faith in the wizard.

She slammed into Fíli’s back as the company skidded to a halt. The goblin king roared as he burst through the scaffolding, slamming his fists down as he cornered the company.

“You thought you could escape me!” The goblin cackled, Gandalf pushed his way to the front as the dwarrow huddled behind him. He swung his great club, sending Gandalf jumping back. “What are you going to do now wizard?” Gandalf’s face hardened into a snarl, and he leapt forward. He jabbed his staff into the king’s face. While the creature was off kilter, he swiped Glamdring forward, slashing the king’s stomach open. The goblin groaned, grasping at the wound. He collapsed forward onto his knees, “That’ll do it.” Gandalf hacked his sword through the king’s throat, and he fell forward, dead. The scaffolding bucked under their feet, shifting and groaning with the weight of the goblin king. Suddenly the platform plummeted, sending them careening toward the ground. All of them screamed, grabbing onto the platform for dear life as they hurtled toward the ground.

She shrieked as the platform bucked, sliding down a hill before careening off the edge of a cliff. The platform screeched and slowed as the wooden polls jammed into the sides of the canyon wall. She let out a slow breath, as the platform halted.

Finny yelped as the platform gave way once more, collapsing in on itself. All of the dwarrow were groaning, rolling around, trying to push away the debris. Gandalf staggered to his feet, brushing dust off of his hat. Finny winced, entire body throbbing painfully as she attempted to stumble to her feet. Fíli caught her arm as she pitched forward, pulling her upright. She gave a brief nod of thanks as the dwarrow freed themselves. Finny’s head lifted as the hammering of thousands of feet. She turned, eyes widening at the sight of an army’s worth of goblins thundering toward them.

“GANDALF!” She screamed,

“Only one thing will save us, daylight! RUN!” The wizard cried, all of them scrambled to their feet, sprinting through the tunnels as they ran from the hoards of goblins. “Quickly!” Gandalf ferried them through a final tunnel, sunlight streaming through an opening in the cave side. They burst out onto the canyon side, sprinting down the hill.

They ran on, through the forest, down the hillside, jumping over jagged rocks and browning grass. Finally they slowed as they reached a small clearing, chests heaving feebly. Finny blinked, lungs on fire, hands shaking. She could hear Gandalf counting vaguely in the background, her ears were still ringing.

Frantically her gaze scanned the company. Her uncle was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Bilbo?” Gandalf asked, “Where’s our hobbit!” Finny’s throat constricted, tears welling in her eyes.

“Curse that halfling!” Gloin growled, “Now he’s lost!”

“I thought he was with Dori!” Nori replied, crossing his arms.

“Don’t blame me!” Dori yelped back,

“Where did you last see him!” Finny demanded, looking to Dori, desperately trying to keep her voice even.

“I think I saw him slip away,” Ori said, creeping forward, “When they first collared us,”

“Then what exactly happened!” Gandalf ordered, “Tell me!”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” Thorin snarled, “Master Baggins saw his chance and took it!” Finny’s heart dropped into her stomach. “He has thought nothing of his soft bed and his warm hearth since he stepped out of his door. We will not be seeing our hobbit again. He is long gone.” Seething rage, roared into Finny’s throat. She could feel it rushing into the front of her mind, her chest constricting, cheeks flushing. “Did I not say they would be a burden.”

“Why!” Finny cried, tears gathering at her lashes, “Because he is gentle? Because his heart is kind!” The dwarrow were silent as Finny seethed, “Because he refuses to be as cold and unforgiving as you!” Thorin stared, Finny was shaking now, trembling with grief. There were tears rolling down her cheeks now. “Because now he’s gone,” her voice broke in a guttural sob, “and you don’t even care,” Her head dropped, sinking to her knees as she sobbed. Kíli attempted to approach her, reaching a hand for her shoulder. His fingers barely brushed her shoulder and she jerked away, shrinking in upon herself.

“Not gone,” A voice said, Finny’s head jerked up.

“U-uncle!” She cried, staggering to her feet. She threw herself into Bilbo’s arms, crying miserably as they sank to the ground.

The elder hobbit gently shushed her, running a hand over her hair, holding his niece close.

“Shh darling, no more tears, I’m here,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Slowly both hobbits rose to their feet, still pressed up against one another.

“Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf breathed, “I have never been so happy to see someone in my entire life.”

“We’d given you up!” Kíli laughed, smiling at the elder hobbit.

“How on earth did you get past the goblins?” Fíli asked cocking his head,

“How indeed,” Thorin murmured, eyeing Bilbo. Finny snuffled, looking between the two as she clutched onto her Uncle’s coat a little tighter.

“Well what does it matter,” Gandalf said after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “He’s back,”

“It matters,” Thorin interjected, more firmly this time. “I want to know. Why did you come back?” Bilbo paused for just a moment before looking to Thorin,

“Look I know you doubt me,” he replied, “I know you always have. And you’re right. I often think of Bag End,” Bilbo shrugged, “I miss my books, and my armchair. And my garden.” Finny’s gaze dropped to the ground, “See that’s where I belong. That’s home.” Bilbo patted Finny’s hand, “And that’s why I came back. ‘Cause… you don’t have one.” He surveyed the dwarrow, before his eyes landed back on Thorin, “A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can.” All the dwarrow were solemnly silent, but some of them were beginning to smile. Grasping each other’s shoulders and hands, mourning, but also hopeful. Hopeful for a home that could be restored.