Chapter Text
Thorin had a lot on his mind. The company was on their own, the other dwarrow refusing to join their quest. The bigger part of twelve, to follow him, was family. The Urs, however, were a mystery. He was glad to have them, but couldn't comprehend why they agreed to come when so many others backed out. Not being warriors they were valuable in other areas. He thanked Magal for Bombur. It would have been too soon to taste Dwalin's cooking again.
There were some promises made, though, by his cousin Dain, on account of Thorin acquiring the Arkenstone. It was painful to hear himself not being enough, a failure. As usual, this familiar pain had eased into general unhappiness.
He looked forward to seeing his cousins and nephews. Tharkun too. They knew about the signs, concerning Erebor. The dragon was not seen for sixty years. This gave him hope.
So here he was, lost in the Shire, looking for the wizard's mark on the door. The final step before leaving, to fetch the fourteenth member of the company, the burglar.