Allies or Enemies?

What a morning, Bilbo Baggins thought. The air was sweet. The sun was gently kissing the air and the clouds were moving ever so slowly. With the occasional laughter from nearby neighbors, the Hobbit thought nothing could dampen his mood. Bilbo Baggins was a quiet man, very respectable too. His dusty brown hair framed his face, his nose was round and dusted, and his feet were large and hairy. Bilbo Baggins was not the type of hobbit to go on any adventures, Heavens, no. Bagginses, as respectable and as rich as they were, liked the peace the Shire provided for them. He did, however, go and try and see if he could run into elves on their new year a few weeks back, but that was beside the point. They never went on unexpected adventures, though they occasionally had unexpected visitors. However, there was always this scratch inside the back of his head that he could never seem to scratch. Whatever it was, he had no clue.

On this particular morning, with his pipe fitting nicely in his hand, his barefoot feet carried him toward his bench near his home. Bilbo Baggins sat and ground up the mind-easing plant in his pipe and leaned back after he lit it. Without a care in the world, he closed his eyes and relaxed. Every so often, he’d puff, every so often shaping the smoke in a foggy gray ring. The calm noise of the animals in the trees and the plant in his pipe made him feel neatly content. He blew, another smoky ring shape, he guessed with a smile. With his eyes closed he didn't expect to suddenly choke on his own smoke. It was like someone suddenly blew in his face, and he coughed accordingly. When he opened his eyes, he noticed a peculiar old man standing before him.

He wore a grey hat and a matching grey robe. What really made his head tilt was how tall the man was, no doubt he was one of those Big People. Bilbo shifted for a moment, then two, looking to the side then back at the old man after nothing was said.

“Good morning.” He said, and he meant it. The sun was shining and the grass was very green. 

“What do you mean?” He said, leaning down towards the hobbit slightly. “Do you mean to wish me a good morning or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not?”

Bilbo said nothing, unsure of what to say. 

“Or, perhaps, you mean to say you feel good on this particular morning?” He added. Before Bilbo could answer, he started again; “Or are you simply stating that this is a good morning to be on? Hm?” He hummed, waiting for an answer. 

With a confused look on his face and a hand on his leg to lean over more Bilbo replied, “All of them at one, I suppose…” 

When the elder merely hummed in response, Bilbo shifted uncomfortably once more. He opened his mouth to speak, “Can I help you?” 

“That remains to be seen.” He breathed out in his gravelly voice. “I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

Bilbo let the pipe out of his mouth and stared at the stranger for a moment in utter confusion. When he processed his words, he flinched slightly and shook his head slightly. 

“An adventure?” A disturbed look on his face showed. “No, I don’t imagine anyone west of Bree…” His gesture seemed a little sassy as he pointed. “Would have much interest in adventures.” 

This was true. Bagginses didn’t like adventures, that was known. He stood, beginning to walk towards his mailbox before quickly pulling it open. The big stranger watched him awkwardly shuffle away, watching him intently. 

“Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things,” He muttered as he walked. “Make you late for dinner.” He chuckled. 

The wizard put his hand on his hip and patiently waited for Bilbo to check his mail, occasional hums of acknowledgment coming out of the smaller of the two. Bilbo’s eyes flickered up just to see if the stranger was still looking at him, before quickly looking back at the mail as if he was unbothered. With a breath of air, he smacked the stack of envelopes in his hand and looked up when he knew that the old man wasn’t moving.

“Good morning.” He said again, taking another puff of his pipe before turning on his heel. 

“To think that I should’ve lived to be ‘good morninged’ – by Belladonna Took’s son as if I were selling buttons at the door.” By the mention of his late mother's name, he paused and stared at the old man with a puzzled expression. 

“I beg your pardon?” His eyebrows were knitted together. 

“You’ve changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins.” The big man shook his head as he spoke. 

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Bilbo questioned, blinking harshly.

“Well, you know my name, although you don’t remember I belong to it– I’m Gandalf!” He answered. “And Gandalf means… me.” He smiled ever so slightly.

A little lightbulb went off in his head, “Gandalf?” He repeated. “Not Gandalf the wandering Wizard who made such excellent fireworks? Old Took used to have them on Midsummer’s Eve!” He chuckled as he remembered.

Gandalf hummed again, looking off to the side as Bilbo spoke. 

“No idea you were still in business.” He put his pipe back into his mouth.

“And where else should I be?” He said with an unamused expression on his face. 

“Where else?” He chuckled awkwardly, lightly, and looked around to try and find the right words. When nothing came to him he merely cleared his throat at the question before ignoring it entirely. 

“Well, I’m pleased to find you remember something about me…” He spoke in a low, careful tone. “Even if it’s only my fireworks.”

The last line made Bilbo’s ears turn pink with slight embarrassment. He didn’t think he knew Gandalf from anywhere else, right? 

“Yes. Well, that’s decided.” Gandalf nodded. “Here, a gift for you.”

Bilbo watched as Gandalf reached into his pocket and handed Bilbo a tiny box, something you could barely even put a note in. Gandalf’s long arm stretched out and held it out towards the hobbit. With his pipe still in his mouth, he hesitantly grabbed it and shuffled slightly. 

“It’ll be very good for you.” The old wizard pointed at Bilbo, causing him to squint in confusion. “And most amusing for me. I shall inform the others–”

“Inform the who?” Bilbo stuttered. “What? No. No, no, wait.” He took his pipe out of his mouth and pointed it at Gandalf. “We do not want any adventures here, thank you.” He turned back towards the steps and made haste up it, away from the old man. “Not today, not..”

He looked at Gandalf as he was on top of the steps, unable to really read Gandalf’s expression. It was as if he was in deep thought. 

“I suggest you try Over the Hill or Across the Water.” He pointed in that direction. 

Unsure how to end the conversation as fast as possible, it was as if his movements stuttered, and he opened his greenish door before letting out a final “good morning,” before slamming the door behind him after the quickest of glances back. 

With a sigh, he put his back against the round door, locking it, and looked up. He huffed, noticing that he still had the tiny box in his hand. Bilbo’s eyebrows knitted together once again before he dropped the letters onto the side table to open up what was inside. 

Inside rested a small feather, tiny and a greyish-brown color. Slowly, he picked it up and inspected it, flipping it over a few times for good measure.

“Bugger.” He muttered under his breath. 

He paused, listening carefully for a second, for he heard a weird and sudden scratching noise. Bilbo slowly looked out the window, trying to see if that odd man had followed him back to his door. A bright blue eye appeared in his window– Gandalf was looking straight at him! The Hobbit sucked in a sharp breath of air before turning around the corner quickly to hide from the wizard. His hand clutched the box, as if he were protecting it, and held his breath for a moment. He peered over the corner towards the window to watch Gandalf leave, even advancing closer to watch him walk away. He quickly went to another window to keep watching him, for he found that seeing him leave gave him a sense of security. 

Very weirded out by the situation that just played out, he sniffed, moving his nose like a bunny. Only then was when he realized that he was still holding into the feather and its box. With another glance over it, he set the feather back in its box, and carefully left it on his grandmother’s antique wardrobe, not bothering to put the cover back on it. He walked away awkwardly, waving off the thought of the wizard again, including his weird gift. 

Soon, nighttime came, and the thought of Gandalf had to be pushed away from his head every so often. He didn’t really think that he’d be joining him on an adventure, right? Nevertheless, he shook his head as the wizard and his feathery gift crept back into his mind and returned to cooking his dinner. 

He hummed along, content enough with himself as he looked out the window. He liked the quiet, he kept telling himself. A Baggins? On an adventure? Not likely! He chuckled to himself, not sticking to keeping Gandalf’s request out of his mind as he planned. 

He set the plate of fish and sides onto his table and went to grab a lemon from his pantry to squeeze into his food until he heard an abnormally loud crash coming from his hallway. Bilbo froze, thinking about what to do, and began shuffling about toward the noise. He came to his archway, his hand raising to hold onto the side of the entryway. Leaning forward slowly, he peered his way around the corner ever so slightly. 

Bilbo’s eyes rested on an abnormally tall person, no doubt one of those big people like Gandalf. He let out a small ‘ehem,’ looking around to see if he should say something. Of course, he should! A random big person was in his house! It seemed as if they were struggling to get up, instead rolling on their back in pain as if the wind was knocked clean out of their lungs. A similar hat was pushed behind the person, a ribbon connecting it to a latch around it. It wore pants and an odd robe that was nothing like Gandalf’s. Its hair was tied back as if it were rushed. The Hobbit wasn’t able to see its face, squinting in confusion at how it got there, and why it was on the floor. Gazing at the human, a smell of sweet camomille filled his nose, causing him to feel entirely at ease. He sighed softly and leaned into the smell as if it pulling him underneath a calm bath. Snapping out of his odd trance, he studied the human and their surroundings, wood was scattered about, and then he realized.

“My Grandmother’s wardrobe!” He exclaimed, finally stepping into the hallway in dismay. 

The big person turned to look at Bilbo, a look of distaste painted on its face, finally managing to sit up. Bilbo rushed toward the person, waving his hands to gesture for them to move. They shuffled back accordingly, blinking hard at the small Hobbit.  He picked up the feather the old man had given him, it was crumpled and tangled in its wisps. His lips sucked in to form a thin line. He shoved it in his pocket and looked around at the broken wardrobe once more. It split in half, directly on top of where he set his gift, and random antiquity trinkets were scattered around, a few cloths saved the remaining glassware. 

Bilbo sighed, lifting a slab of wood that came from the antique before dropping it back onto the ground. His hands found themselves on his hips, turning to look at them. The human had a darker skin tone than his own, causing Bilbo to raise an eyebrow. He studied its eyes, searching for any remorse, any emotion it had. Its eyes stared back at Bilbo, panting heavily as if it had just run many miles to get here. They sat in silence, just staring at each other for a moment in wonder. He looked down to see that its robe had broken open, but uncomfortably looked at its eyes, not daring to let his gaze wander– no, no, that wouldn’t be the respectful thing to do. Bilbo’s face burned pink, and he almost forgot why he even rushed over in the first place. He forced a scowl, shaking his head. 

“I’ve just had enough of you people.” He said, “Do get up.” 

“You people?” The human responded, eyes squinting. 

It was then that Bilbo realized that it was a woman he talked to, regaining his politeness as much as he could. He tied up his robe, an embarrassed face painted on him, but he still shook his head. He nearly tripped over some sort of large bird, making him make a noise of shock and discontent.

“Why’ve you got an owl with you?” He innocently muttered, confusion leaking out of his mouth. “And, and a broom, and what is this?” 

He had the lady get up, grabbing a bag of hers, and tugged gently on her robe to help her up. He picked up some sort of instrument, a strap along the side of it. The lady hesitated for a moment, brushing her robe off of any more wood, then got up to her feet. Her head hit the top of the ceiling, and a hiss of pain was sucked through her teeth as she bent down. Bilbo tried picking up the owl as well, but it hissed at him, causing him to back up, humming as he did. 

“Now hold on,” She said, pulling the bag and instrument away from the Hobbit. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

Bilbo looked up at the lady with crossed arms, and she mirrored him, leaning down as if she were staring him down. What was he doing? He thought. He was simply trying to have a peaceful dinner before supper. He tried finding the words to say, a few seconds passing by as the question lingered in the air. 

“What am I doing?” He repeated, mentally slapping his forehead. “What are you doing?” 

An excellent comeback. He tapped his big Hobbit foot on the floor, as he looked up towards the woman. A condescending grin on her face appeared out of nowhere, and she leaned closer to his face, hands on her knees, as she bent to his level.

“If you must know, little one,” She teased.

“Little one?” Bilbo exclaimed, ears now turning pink. 

“I’m here on private grown-up business.” She finished, ignoring his interruption. 

“Wh-what,” He shook his head when he began humming. “Business? Hm, there is no business for you to be here, you’ve already made a mess.” 

His face twisted into that of a disgusted look, the condescending grin on the lady’s face made his skin burn. How arrogant that lady is! He huffed and reached out to the lady’s arm to lead her towards the door. She turned as he moved, lifting herself slightly to walk along with it. When he set his hand on her arm, his hand felt as if it burned underneath his fingertips. Bilbo’s eyes widened, quickly removed his hand from her, and held it in his own. 

“A mess? Well, why did you put the Portkey on something so fragile, little one?” She smiled and cooed at him as if he was a little child. 

“Will you stop-” He shook his head, walking towards the door. “Portkey? What-whats a portkey?” 

The brim of the lady’s hat scratched the ceiling as her feet dragged across the floor. At his question, she stopped and turned back towards the Hobbit. 

“You mean to tell me you don’t know what a portkey is?” She sounded confused as if it was common knowledge, then she sighed. “Well, whatever, I can fix your tiny furniture, little man!” 

She pulled a stick out of her sleeve, stood up as straight as she could, and raised her hands in the air; however, Bilbo shook his head while little ‘no’s’ came out of his mouth, raising his arms up to shake his hands in dismay. 

“I’m a Hobbit, now will you quit calling me ‘little,’ miss.” He seethed, growing more and more offended as she opened her mouth. “No, just please, don’t try and fix it it’ll only make it worse.” 

“A what?” She quirked an eyebrow, as her arms dropped to her side abruptly. Bilbo’s face flushed and readjusted his robe. “Christ, your feet..” He heard her mutter.

“A Hobbit, yes,” He looked down at his feet. Nothing was wrong with them in his opinion, why was she making a fuss? “Have you never seen a Hobbit before?”

“How fascinating.” Her voice sounded entranced, and she knelt down to pinch his robe sleeve and study him even closer. “A Hobbit!” She repeated and looked over him as if he was some fascinating creature.

Bilbo’s face burned, in embarrassment of course, and pulled himself away from the human, scoffing at how rude she was. He fixed his robe, brushed himself off, and shook his head out of habit once more. 

“I think you’ve overstayed your welcome, miss.” 

Bilbo moved to open the door, swinging it open to reveal a slightly taller man, yet still quite small in the human’s opinion, he had his eyebrows raised in near surprise, as he didn’t even knock on the door just yet. The man was balding on his head, but his scruffy beard made up for its lacking of hair. Bilbo’s mouth gapped slightly, then turned back to the lady as if she knew what was going on. She simply shrugged the same dumbfounded expression on her face as Bilbo’s.

“Dwalin,” He bowed slightly, not breaking eye contact with Bilbo. “At your service.” 

Bilbo squeaked, now face to face with a dwarf. “Bilbo... Baggins.” He hesitated. “At yours.” When Dwalin hummed and began to enter his home, Bilbo let him in, even though they had just met. “Do we know each other?” He questioned.

“No.” Dwalin responded, blunt and simple, then walked forward. He nodded toward the tall person in the room before speaking again. “Which way, laddie? Is it down here?” He shoved off his cloak and looked around. 

“Is what down where?” Bilbo stuttered in confusion. 

“Supper.” He answered, throwing the cloak for Bilbo to catch. “He said there’d be food and lots of it.” 

“Did he really?” The big lady finally spoke again, smiling again and she followed the dwarf.

“He... He said? Who said?” Bilbo’s confusion deepened as the unknown woman joined the dwarf. 

Soon, the hobbit watches the dwarf eat his dinner and the girl eats his rolls. Bilbo sat in the corner, at a loss for words, not finding anything suitable to say. He switched his gaze to the dwarf towards the human girl, face growing hot in displeasure just by looking at her. Something about the way she chewed with her mouth closed, or maybe something about the way she’d push her hair back behind her ears made Bilbo’s dislikeness grow. 

“Very good, this.” Dwalin broke the silence. “Any more?” His voice boomed.

Bilbo looked at the plate and then back at the dwarf as if he had just called him an insult. “What?” He said, “O-Oh, yes, hah.” He stood and turned around to grab another plate of rolls. Before he would hand them over, he slipped a roll underneath his robe sleeve and held them out towards Dwalin. “Help yourself.” 

Dwalin reached for the bread, as well as the large lady. At that, Bilbo moved without thinking, pulling the plate back from her grip before realizing what he had just done and putting it back. The girl’s eyebrows knitted together at the Baggins, yanking a bread roll off the plate, while Dwalin mindlessly took a few to shove in his mouth. She took a deep breath before shaking her head and returning to her dinner. 

“Hmm. It’s just that uhm,” He looked around nervously. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

Before Dwalin could say anything to the hobbit, the door rang, causing Bilbo’s head to snap in its direction with dread.

“That’d be the door, dear.” He heard his human visitor say. 

His eye twitched, already deciding that he didn’t even like the sound of her voice. He sighed, and nevertheless, walked towards the door to see who was there. Upon opening it, he was met with another dwarf, this time his hair was white as snow, his nose was hooked, and his eyebrows were bushy. 

“Balin, at your service.” He introduced, bowing low. 

“Good evening.” Bilbo simply said, uninterested in having more visitors. 

“Yes,” He said as he looked around before stepping inside. “Yes, it is. Though I think it might rain later.”

Bilbo hummed, confusion extinguishing his annoyance. 

“Am I late?” Balin asked kindly.

“Late for what?” Bilbo squinted. 

Without getting an answer, the new dwarf exclaimed when he saw Dwalin monkeying with another trinket of Bilbo’s. Balin laughed, walking towards the other with a strut. 

“Evening, brother!” He said joyfully. Dwalin stopped what he was doing, and turned to Balin with a genuine grin.

“By my beard…” He set down Bilbo’s decoration on a coffee table. “You’re shorter and wider than last we met!” 

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

They laughed once more while Bilbo stared at them in disbelief. He snapped out of it for a moment when he realized a certain human was not a part of the picture. He looked around for the new lady, worried that she was already making even more of a mess. When hearing Dwalin and Balin’s heads hit, Bilbo jumped, his attention on them now. 

“Excuse me?” He spoke, raising his hand up to point at them. “Sorry. I hate to interrupt. But the thing is, I’m not entirely sure you’re in the right house.”

Balin and Dwalin completely ignored Bilbo, walking toward the pantry together to share an ale. Bilbo followed them, going silent as they talked, trying his best to find the confidence to kick them all out.

“Have you eaten?” Dwalin asked his friend. 

“It’s not like I don’t like visitors.” He tried talking to them, but he may have had better luck with a tree. “I like visitors as much as the next Hobbit. But I do like to know them– before they come visiting.”

The dwarves talked amongst themselves, going through Bilbo’s abundant food stash. They studied a moldy cheese, wondering what exactly it was.

“The thing is,” Bilbo tried saying. “The thing is, I-I don’t either of you.”

Dwalin threw Bilbo’s food behind him as he carried on. “Not in the slightest. I don’t mean to be blunt, but I had to speak my mind–I’m sorry.” 

Bilbo was trying his hardest to be nice, he already crashed and burned when he met the human, so he might as well live up to his respectable reputation, and be as kind as possible in trying to get them to leave. Much to Bilbo’s dismay, however, the two simply turned to look at him. The Hobbit cleared his throat, uncomfortable with how they looked at him as if he just called their mothers a rude name. 

“Apology accepted.” Balin said, clueless as to what Bilbo meant to say, then they both turned back to look at the food storage. “Now, fill it up, brother, don’t stint.”

A chuckle was heard behind the Hobbit, pleasant and light. He turned, then realized where it came from, causing his heart to drop to his feet. The human girl smiled up at Bilbo Baggins as she sat at the table. She had watched his failed attempt, and was clearly making fun of him! Bilbo huffed, wanting to just drag her out by her hat himself. He kept his cool and walked towards the door again when he heard the doorbell ring. When he saw two more dwarves, he hummed like a sad dog. 

“Fili.” Said one.

“And Kili.” Said the other.

Both of them bowed low toward Bilbo, both saying “At your service.” in synchronization. 

“You must be Mr. Boggins.” Kili said, butchering his name. 

“Nope! You can’t come in, you’ve come to the wrong house.” Bilbo said, beginning to shut the door on them until Kili reached out to catch it.

“What?” He looked shocked. “Has it been canceled?”

“No one told us.” Kili said with furrowed brows.

“Canceled? No, nothing’s been canceled.” Bilbo squinted back at them.

“That’s a relief.” Kili exhaled under his breath and walked in with his brother, shoving the door open. 

“Careful with these,” Flii said, taking off his weapons and handing them to the host. “I just had the, sharpened.” Bilbo held onto the weaponry Fili had given him, unsure of what to do with them.

“It’s nice, this place,” Kili looked around the hobbit hole. “Did you do it yourself?” He turned to Bilbo.

“What?” Bilbo hadn’t quite registered what Kili asked until it clicked. “No, it’s been in the family for years” 

Kili lifted up his feet and one by one he scratched off the muck from his boots with the corner of a box he found in the corner. 

“That’s my mother’s glory box,” Baggins called out. “Could you please not do that?” Although he got distracted by Fili dropping more weapons on the pile Bilbo was already holding.

“Fili, Kili, Come on, give us a hand.” Dwalin walked back towards them, Balin and the human already in tow. 

“Mr. Dwalin!” Kili laughed as Dwalin’s arm wrapped around him to lead them back toward the pantry. “And who might you be?” He said to the lady.

“Someone outta move this broken mess out of the way, otherwise we’ll never get everyone in.” Balin interrupted before she could answer her name, the broken wardrobe had finally been noticed. “And could you grab the table? No room.”

“‘Everyone?’” Bilbo exclaimed. “How many more are there?”

“I’ll get it, no worries.” The girl rolled up her sleeves and pulled out the odd stick. 

Before the Hobbit could reject, the doorbell rang one last time. A little ‘Oh, no.’ left his lips as he looked at the door. 

“No, no there’s nobody home!” He yelled and dropped the weapons onto the floor. “Go away and bother somebody else.” Bilbo stomped towards the door. “There’s far too many Dwarves in my dining room as it is.” He pointed with his thumb. “I-If this is some clot-head’s idea of a joke…” He laughed angrily. “I can only say it is in very poor taste.”

As he pulled the door open, almost a dozen more dwarves fell forward onto the ground, all now groaning in pain from the fall. Bilbo stood in disbelief, staring at them until a familiar old man bent down under the archway of his round blue door. Gandalf looked at the bunch, coming to the conclusion that they were alright, before looking to Bilbo– looked expectantly.

“Gandalf.” He breathed out. 

Meanwhile, the dwarves were going through Bilbo’s food, and the stranger to the land of middle-earth was in the hallway avoiding the noise. Of course, she would love to be there in the crowd, but she didn’t know anyone to stick next to. Her wand was in her hand while she tapped her foot on the ground. She stood there, staring at the mess she made, realizing now how much she offended the host. An idea popped into her head and she raised her wand. 

“Reparo.” She sited and watched as the wood molded back together as if time had reversed. 

She moved to kneel down and open the drawers to see if everything was in order and when it was up to her standards, she nodded with contentment before exploring the house. She could hear Bilbo yapping at the dwarves like a chihuahua and shook her head. Soon she found herself at the left side of the Hobbit Hole, yelling voices now quieter. Her owl, brown and fluffy, sat on her arm as she looked at Bilbo’s collection of books. Many maps and specific fantasy books were scattered neatly around. 

“Ah, thirteen.” She heard a familiar voice say behind her.

She turned, a smile returning to her face. Setting her owl down, she opened her arms up to Gandalf, a laugh bubbling in her throat.

“Gandalf!” She cried happily as they embraced. 

“It’s so good to see you, dear.” He said, patting her back until he pulled back to look at her with his hand on her shoulders.

“This is an odd place you brought me to.” Her voice lowered as she looked around. “Middle-Earth? Was it called?” She sounded unsure until Gandalf nodded his head and lead her back toward the front of the Hobbit Hole where all the noise was.

“Nevertheless,” His voice was grand as he spoke. “I’m glad you came here to help.”

She threw her head back and laughed, “Well, it’s not like I had much of a choice.” She nudged him. “You already had set me up to come before I even gave an answer.” 

“It’s an adventure, child, it’ll be good for you.” He patted her back as they walked along. 

“And I don’t think your burglar likes me very much.” She muttered loud enough for the wizard to hear. 

“Well, you did break that piece of old furniture upon your arrival.” He reasoned, nearly hitting his head against the ceiling when he tried looking up.

The girl giggled, understanding how annoying the small Hobbit-Hole can be. “I fixed it, did you not see?” She sighed. “And it was his fault that he put the portkey on it.”

“He did not know it was a portkey, dear.” He turned, stopping to look the girl in the eye. “Please don’t hold such a grudge against him, he’s my burglar after all.” 

“As if,” she scoffed. “You don’t actually think someone like him would actually agree to come with, Gandalf?” 

Gandalf took a deep breath and suddenly his eyes were somewhere far away. “I have no doubt that Bilbo Baggins will come around, my dear.”

Suddenly another dwarf that the girl was not familiar with walked up to Gandalf with two tiny glasses of wine. “Mr. Gandalf?” He said. “A little glass of red wine, as requested.” The Dwarf held it up politely to the Wizard. 

The girl tilted her head as Gandalf took it, kindly taking the spare he had from his other hand too, and gave it to her. She smiled and grabbed it without argument, nodding to Gandalf and the dwarf politely. 

“It’s got a fruity bouquet.” He explained.

“Oh, cheers.” He said to him, then clinked his glasses with the girl’s. 

“Oh, When in Rome.” She quoted, shrugging while taking the shot.

“I don’t know what that is.” Gandalf exhaled after sipping his wine, already gone. He hummed, looking at the bottom of the small glass. 

The dwarves were all sat down at the table, laughing and playing with their food. Gandalf and the human girl joined them as well, sitting on opposite sides of the long table. The time they took to quickly make a feast in the Baggins’ home surprised her, a smile sticking to her face as she already enjoyed their company. They were all talking amongst themselves about debating whether or not a dwarf named Bombur would be able to catch a piece of food in his mouth. Putting the experiment to the test, one of them picked up a handful of food and got Bombur’s attention. 

“Bombur, catch!” The hatted dwarf said, throwing it into Bombur’s mouthwith minimal effort. 

They all cheered, the girl included. She clapped her hands, laughing with glee at the show they were giving her. Some slammed their fits on the table as they yelled. Gandalf was being kind as usual and helped pass around food, but as the witch looked around, Bilbo Baggins was nowhere to be seen. They were very welcoming, and she had already felt like they had accepted her into their friend circle as a few of them helped pour her some beer. The dwarves and she raised their wooden chalices and toasted before gulping down every drop. Her eye squinted slightly when they all began burping, crossing the line at the improperness there, but her grin never wavered.

Bilbo Baggins was finally seen by the witch running around taking things that were delicate from his guests as if they were all curious toddlers. 

“Excuse me, that is a doily, not a dishcloth.” He lectured, yanking said doily out of the other’s hand. 

“But it’s full of holes!” Bofur reasoned, leaning against the wall with another glass of beer in his hands. 

“It’s supposed to look like that, it’s crochet.” He rolled it up neatly

“And a wonderful game it is too– if you’ve got the balls for it.” Bofur grinned as Bilbo walked away, completely ignoring the comment. 

Bilbo muttered something, angrily and against the dwarves that were currently in his house, no doubt. The witch tilted her head, and sat up from her chair, walking over when she saw that Gandalf walked into the room. 

“My dear Bilbo,” He said. “What on Earth is the matter?” 

“What’s the matter?” Bilbo seethed. “I’m surrounded by Dwarves.”

“Did you not know that you were having people over, Mr. Baggins?” She spoke up, crossing her arms. 

“Of course not! What are they doing here?” Bilbo huffed, voice hushed..

“Gandalf,” Her head tilted to the wizard. “You mean to tell me you didn’t mention anything about the get-together to him?”

With no response from Gandalf other than a small shrug and an apologetic smile toward Bilbo’s way, she started again. 

“No wonder he’s acting like a child who won’t share their candy! We’re trespassing.” The smile returned to her face, stifling a laugh. 

Bilbo glared at the lady, eyes squinting in displeasure turning to hatred, reaching past his limit. His respectable exterior was broken when a party he didn’t plan took place in his house. Something about the way her lips quirked up when she smiled made Bilbo’s blood boil more than a dwarf ever could.

“Oh, they’re quite a merry gathering… once you get used to them.” He replied back. 

“I don’t think he wants to get used to them.” She said at the same time Bilbo whispered; “I don’t want to get used to them.”

“Look at the state of my kitchen– there’s mud trod on the carpet. Th-they pillaged the pantry,” He said leading them both out to point toward the barren room. “I won’t even tell you what they’ve done in the bathroom, they’ve all but destroyed the plumbing!” He blurted, turning to look at the two magic users with anger. “I don’t understand what they’re doing in my house!” He cried, sighing before putting his hands on his hips.

“Excuse me,” Ori walked over interrupting Bilbo’s tantrum. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?”

Fili walked over grabbing the plate before he spoke, “Here you go, Ori. Give it to me.” He threw the plate nonchalantly at his brother, Kili, causing Gandalf to move to the other side of the wall, and for the Witch to duck down with a gasp. 

Another plate was thrown, and Kili caught it gracefully before throwing them behind him. The Witch laughed, pulling her wand out from her sleeve, before standing up to move into the kitchen to join in. 

She heard Gandalf grunt and Bilbo yell, “excuse me!” from the other room, nonverbally casting an incantation toward the dishes to help with the cleaning. 

“That’s my mother’s West Farthing pottery!” He yelled as if his hair was turning white from stress. “It’s over a hundred years old!” 

The Witch made a face, mocking Bilbo’s constant yelling, as she cleaned the plates. Beginning to hear a beat from the start of a song, she began tapping her foot along as if she knew it by heart, her head turning to look at the dwarves with fondness.

“And can you not do that? You’ll blunt them.” Bilbo quipped.

“Ooh, do you hear that lads?” Bofur cooed as they all slammed their utensils together and onto the table. Their feet stomped under the table, creating a beat. “He says we’ll blunt the knives.”

“Blunt the knives, bend the forks!” Kili began singing. 

“Smash the bottles and bum the corks!” Fili joined.

“Chip the glasses and crack the plates!” All but Gandalf and Bilbo joined in singing, “That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!” With her wand still out, she walked toward them and helped them form a line with the antique china as cargo, nonverbally enchanting plates to bounce in the air without touching them over to the next Dwarf in line. “Cut the cloth, tread on the fat, leave the bones on the bedroom mat!” They all began throwing their plates at Ori, yet they all managed to land perfectly fine without breaking. “Pour the milk on the pantry floor!” Ori carried the plates to the dishes that were already being done by themselves with a charm, but Bilbo could only focus on the plates that were stacked up to the ceiling with a horrified look on his face. “Splash the wine on every door, dump the crooks in a boiling bowl, pound them up with a thumping pole!”

Bilbo Baggins watched on in horror as they threw his silverware and plates around as if they were nothing but throwing balls.

“When you’re finished, if they are whole,” Bombur scraped the plates clean before handing them off to be cleaned. “Send them down the hall to roll!” Dwalin bounced plated behind him with a plate of his own, much to Bilbo’s dismay.

Others laughed, and Gandalf had taken out his pipe to smoke a ring for the dishes to go through, chuckling as they went by. Some dwarves were playing instruments, some made their own out of Bilbo’s dishes, and others just sang along. 

“That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!” They yelled in each other’s faces. 

When Bilbo walked into the kitchen, the dishes were all clean and somewhat neatly stacked in a pile, with the witch in the middle, towering over everyone but Gandalf, she laughed along with them as Bilbo stared daggers at her with hatred. He felt as though she played him like a fiddle, blaming everything that had happened with her first arrival. Of course, maybe it wasn’t her fault, yet he just wanted someone to blame, and the way she looked at him as if he didn’t know any better made it easy for him to choose her. His teeth ground together and he found his hands on his hips once more. Nevertheless, he was relieved that nothing as broken, so he gave them that.

A knock on the door interrupted their party quite loudly, and they all silently turned their heads toward the door just out of the hall.

“He is here.” Gandalf whispered, taking his pipe out of his mouth. He stood, walking over toward the front door. Everyone shuffled quietly together, muttering to each other ever so slightly. 

The wizard opened the door, revealing the final dwarf that finished their company.

“Gandalf,” His head turned as he walked into the room. “I thought you said this place would be easy to find.”

Bilbo and the witch stood next to each other, peeking out from around the corner, slightly away from the other dwarves. 

“Oh, that one is handsome.” She whispered jokingly, nudging Bilbo with her arm. “And elegant too.”

Bilbo’s arms were crossed, trying to get a better look at this ‘handsome and elegant’ dwarf she just awed at. He stifled a scoff, thinking he wasn’t all that. He had just enough of these visitors, ready for them all to leave now that his leader was here. He almost fell forward when she nudged him, his ears turning a shade of pink from embarrassment.

“I lost my way.” He explained. “Twice.”

“See? It’s as if they all share a single brain cell.” He muttered to himself, not intending for the witch to hear it. She did however and shoved him lighter this time with a disproving look on her face.

“I wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.” He unlatched his cloak, speaking matter of factly.

“Mark? There’s no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago.” Bilbo finally spoke up.

Gandalf closed the door gently, turning to Bilbo as he came to the wizard’s side. “There is a mark,” he said. “I put it there myself.” He explained. “Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company:” He gestured to the Hobbit and then to the new Dwarf. “Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thorin leaned in toward Bilbo with a dissatisfied look. “So,” he started. “This is the Hobbit.” He crossed his arms in intimidation, beginning to walk around the lad. “Tell me, Mr. Baggins have you done much fighting?”

The witch in the corner had lit a pipe from where she stood, looking at the Hobbit with a smirk, before leaning against the wall and tilting her head to the side. Bilbo looked to the familiar with a look of wanting to be saved, yet she only shook her head. 

“Pardon me?” He squeaked.

“Axe or sword?” Thorin asked instead of answering Bilbo’s question. “What is your weapon of choice?” He finished circling around Bilbo. 

“Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know…” He joked nervously in response. “But I fail to see why that’s…relevant.”

“Thought as much,” he spoke nonchalantly, looking to his companions. “He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” 

A laugh erupted from the other Dwarves, but the witch could only look on with an unreadable expression. Then Thorin Oakenshield turn towards her, causing her to look to the side as if he meant to look for someone else. 

“And what’re you supposed to be?” He asked, looking up at her. 

She fixed her posture, and stood up, nearly hitting her head on the ceiling once more. She towered over Thorin slightly, but he didn’t show any sign of intimidation. 

“I,” She began stumbling over her words. “I do uh,” She looked towards Gandalf for help, but he merely shook his head with a finger up to his mouth. She then looked to Bilbo, the smallest of grins hidden on his face as it was her turn to be insulted. “I do.. Magic.” She finished. 

“Like party performer?” Thorin tilted his head down and smiled up at her, the dwarves chuckling along as their leader spoke. “Come on, let’s see a magic trick then.”

She shifted uncomfortably and let her pipe drop to her hand while she clutched her wand in the other. She glanced back at Gandalf, who gave her a look of approval, in which she raised her wand up, and mustered up the happiest thought she could. 

She took a breath, hesitating because of the crowd that stared at her, before waving it in the air. “Expecto Patronum.” She recited, waving her wand around. She focused hard as a manx cat jumped out of the edge of her wand. 

Her arm was still outstretched as the cat weaved around the many dwarves. They made noises of awes and oohs, fawning over how cute it was, feeling as if it were made of fond memories. The cat traveled over Thorin, up onto Dwalin’s head, across Balin’s arms, through Bombur’s legs, then finally up to Bilbo, walking around him in curiosity. He reached his hands up to try and hold it, entranced by it. It felt as though its presence itself calmed him. With his hands out to create a place for the Manx cat to stand, it sat on his hands and leaned in to sniff the Hobbit. His eyes were wide with astonishment he leaned in as well until the cat dissipated into thin air. 

“Where did it go?” He looked up to the witch with wonder.

She bounced the wand in her hand before slipping it away in her sleeve without another word.

Thorin cleared his throat, leaning towards the witch, causing her to lean back to the wall again. “Let’s just hope you can do more than party tricks, witch.” He finished, contently walking into the dining room with his Dwarvish company in tow.

“When I nodded my head,” Began Gandalf. “I didn’t mean for you to cast the Patronus Charm.” 

Everyone had begun talking amongst themselves in the kitchen but Gandalf, the Witch, and Bilbo stood in the hallway. 

“It was the first thing that came to my mind, my friend.” She shrugged, thinking nothing of it. Gandalf hummed, impressed by her ease with such a charm. 

“My wardrobe!” Bilbo broke the silence with his raised voice, walking over to it as if nothing had happened to it. “You.. You fixed my wardrobe?” He looked up at the girl. 

She shrugged again, raising her pipe to her lips. “That was an easier one.” She shoved her hands into her pockets. “Just a simple repair spell.” 

His hand glided across the smooth surface, then opened up the cabinets to look inside. All of the antiquities and trinkets he had were fixed and polished, and he looked back at the two magic users. He was amazed, but they were already walking into the dining room to see what Thorin saying to his company. The corner of Bilbo’s lips quirked up, closing the cabinets to stand and follow them. Maybe the witch wasn’t that bad. 

“Is Dain with us?” Dwalin asked Thorin as they walked in to listen to their conversation. 

Thorin thought for a moment then shifted uncomfortably. “They will not come.” He answered. 

A specific word in that phrase made her lips quirk up quickly before putting on a face as serious as she could muster. However, Bilbo saw the quick emotion show, face twisting into disappointment at her childish humor. Groans of disappointment at Thorin's comment leaked amongst the dwarves. He changed his mind again, the witch was that bad.

“They say this quest is ours and ours alone.” Thorin added to quiet down their groans.

“You’re going on a quest?” Bilbo voiced.

The Witch caught Gandalf’s attention and gestured to the poor, clueless Hobbit, knowing that he should’ve at least been given a rundown on the situation at hand. At that, Gandalf cleared his throat and stepped closer to Bilbo.

“Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light.” He requested.

He nodded in response, scooching behind Gandalf to grab another candle. The Witched watched him leave the room and then spoke up peacefully.

“Not what I meant.” She shook her head and then waved it off to lean closer to the table.

Gandalf shrugged and pulled something out of his pockets. “Far to the east,” He began unrolling a map of some sort as Dwalin cleared the table for it to lie down. “Over ranges and rivers…over woodlands and wastelands…lies a single, solitary peak.” he pointed. 

Bilbo was back with a newly lit candle, looking at the map in awe. “The Lonely Mountain.” He read.

“Aye! Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time.” A Dwarf spoke up, receiving not great responses from a few others.

“Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as it was foretold,” Another added.

“When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end!” He quoted

Bilbo had his back turned to think, his Took and his Baggins side having a fight in his mind, that is until the word ‘Beast’ was uttered from someone’s mouth. He spun around and returned to the room. 

“Uh, what beast?” Bilbo fiddled.

“That would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible,” Bofur called back, pipe in hand. “Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age.”

The Dwarves watched Bofur expectantly, while The Witch stood up to cross her arms at him. Bilbo fidgeted with his hands as the description of the dragon grew more and more horrible.

“Airborne fire-breather,” He kept on. “Teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks. –Extremely fond of precious metals.”

“Yes, I know what a dragon is,” Bilbo sassed. 

“I’m not afraid!” Ori stood up abruptly, causing The Witch to jump slightly at the intensity of the conversation. “I’m up for it. I’ll give him a taste of Dwarfish iron right up his jacksie!” 

Some cheered Ori on, while the one next to him sat him back down. 

“The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us,” Balin’s voice raised above the others. “But we number just fourteen… And not fourteen of the best. Nor brightest.” 

The Witch did a double take, slightly offended that Balin lowballed her ability so soon. She looked to Bilbo, having a non-verbal exchange with him, as he shrugged. They’d been testing him all evening, wasn’t so great when she was looped in, was it? She rolled her eyes at the Hobbit, letting the pipe back into her mouth to refocus her attention on Balin. 

“We may be few in number,” Fili slammed his hand down on the table to get everyone’s attention. “But we’re fighters, all of us, to the last Dwarf.”

“And you forget, we have a wizard and witch in our company!” Kili exclaimed to raise their hopes. “The two will have killed hundreds of dragons in their time!” 

“Hundreds? How old do you think I am?” The Witch’s brows furrowed while Gandalf tried shooting them down humbly. 

“Oh, well, no. I wouldn’t say–” He waved his hand before being interrupted. 

“How many then?” Dori asked Gandalf with big eyes. “How many dragons have you killed?” His gaze shot in between The Witch and the Wizard. 

She chewed the end of her pipe in her mouth, looking to Gandalf to see what she should say. He simply coughed, smoke coming out of his mouth, as he choked on it and his words. 

“I wouldn’t say, kill, maybe defeat legally…?” She muttered for Gandalf’s silence.

“Go on, give us a number!” One said before yelling broke out between the company. 

The Witch removed herself from the fighting that broke out and shuffled toward Bilbo’s side with her lips pursed and her hands behind her back. Bilbo noticed this, a simple yet pitiful movement that could almost be glossed over by someone who wouldn't look into it. Because of that, he opened his mouth to speak in an attempt to quiet them down. It was because of the neighbors that he had here in the Shire, not because of the annoying Witch, not at all.

“Excuse me, please.” He stuttered, moving forward to try and talk over them respectfully.

Thorin stood up, a yell erupted from his throat and they all sat in their chairs once more in silence. When they were quiet, he spoke again, “If we have read these signs do you not think others will have read them too?” He looked at his friends one by one. “Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon, Smaug, has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected– Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours?”

Gandalf and the Witch nodded along with Thorin’s pep-talk noting how easy speaking his mind came. No wonder he was their leader. 

“Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?” His clenched fist pumped in front of him while other Dwarves raised in cheers.

“You forget, the Front Gate is sealed,” Balin spoke over the cheers in an attempt to real them back into reality. “There is no way into the mountain.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, her pipe rested in her hand. She had not brought it back to her lips for a few minutes, for she was in thought. Meanwhile, Bilbo looked around his pockets in search of his pipe, needing to use it because of the stress that they were giving him.

“That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.” Gandalf said, twiddling his fingers until a key appeared. 

It shined black, making a noise that scratched the Witch’s brain just right while Bilbo froze for a moment. Gandalf handed it to Thorin, a little smile hidden under his beard.

“How come you by this?” Thorin spoke barely above a whisper.

“It was given to me by your father,” Gandalf said as a matter of factly. “By Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now.” Thorin took the key and everyone’s eyes were glued to it. 

“If there is a key,” Fili was the first to speak. “There must be a door.”

Gandalf nodded slightly, then used his pipe to point to markings on the side of the map. The Witch and Bilbo leaned in slightly to get a better look.

“These runes speak of a hidden passage to the Lower Halls.” 

Kili wrapped an arm around his brother, astonished at the hope that they were given. “There’s another way in.” He exhorted.

“Well, if we can find it, but Dwarf doors are invisible when closed,” Gandalf mumbled and sighed. “The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it, but,” He breathed. “There are others in Middle-earth who can.” His gaze rested on Thorin.

Slowly, his head turned up to Gandalf. The girl's shoulders tensed, weirded out by the action. 

“The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage.” He looked to Bilbo, who looked at Gandalf with a similar gaze. “But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done.”

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

Bilbo hummed in acknowledgment, “And a good one too. An expert, I’d imagine.”

“And are you?” The Witch had her arms crossed as she leaned on the wall again, head tilting to the left as she waited for an answer. 

Bilbo looked behind him as if she talked right through him. “Am I what?” He was clueless.

“He said he’s an expert! Hey!” Oin rejoiced and laughed, causing others to laugh along with him.

“Now, hold on,” The Witch uncrossed her arms, knowing that Bilbo hadn’t even a clue what she really asked of him.

“What? Me? No. No, no, no.” Bilbo shook his head. “I’m not a burglar, I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.”

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins,” Balin criticized. “He’s hardly burglar material.” 

“Nope!” Bilbo added, shaking his head. 

“Aye, the Wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.” He added, prodding at Bilbo a little more. 

“Agreed. He’s just a little thing, he is.” The Witch looked up and down at Bilbo as if he was missing something. “Well,” Her gaze glossed over the many Dwarves. “All of you are.” The end bit she said was a little quieter than her first statement as she put her pipe back in her mouth.

A few of them yelled offendedly while Bilbo took the insult as a way of trying to get out of being their burglar. He did nearly roll his eyes, though, seeing as how annoying the Witch was again, but he was a respectful Hobbit.

A dark aura grew around Gandalf, instantly causing The Witch to sink into the wall in shame, for she had not seen this almost angry side of Gandalf the Grey.

“Enough!” He boomed, raising up, causing many to shut their traps, and Bilbo to flinch back. “If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is.”

Bilbo was shocked at Gandalf’s booming outburst, looking to the Witch who was quietly looking towards the ground while quickly shooting her gaze to Bilbo as he stared. The silence he heard from her mouth was like music to his ears, causing him to grin. 

“Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet.” Gandalf was bent over as he spoke, not wanting to hit his head on the ceiling. “In fact, they can pass unseen by most, if they choose. And, while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf,” he looked around. “The scent of a Hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage.”

Bilbo raised a finger at Gandalf, ready to cut in, but he closed his mouth in defeat when no words would come to him. 

“You asked me to find the fifteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins,” Gandalf said to Thorin as he shot a glance at Bilbo, nodding his head. “There’s a lot more to him than appearances suggest.”

The Witch chucked to herself, fiddling with the end of her wand with her pipe in her mouth. Bilbo looked her way, frowning

“And he’s got a great deal to offer more than any of you know.” He barked at the others, the girl’s small smile dropping while she looked at the floor. “Including himself.”

Bilbo’s eyes shined at Gandalf, big and almost teary looking, but he’d blame it on the lighting if you would have asked him. The silent battle between his Took heritage and his Baggins carried on. If he went, he surely thought that watching Gandalf shut the nasty Witch up nicely. At that, his head nodded once, now in deep thought at the fond image.

“You must trust me on this,” Gandalf leaned forward to Thorin.

“Very well, we will do it your way.” Thorin grumbled.

“No, no.” Bilbo finally blurted out of the silence, but he was drowned out. 

“Give him the contract.” Thorin ordered Balin.

“We’re in, We’re off.”

“It’s just the usual,” Balin said with a rolled-up piece of parchment in hand. “Summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, and so forth.” 

Thorin took the parchment that Balin held out, and smacked it into Bilbo’s chest, the smile resting on her face looked kind, but Bilbo knew better. She reached out to Balin, silently saying that she needed to sign one too, and he took out another parchment for her to sign. 

“Funeral arrangements?” He yelped, taking the contract to let it all roll out. 

“Oh, you overreact. Baggins, they’re just trying to scare you.” The witch eased, signing it without reading the entire thing. Skimming it was enough, she didn’t see any red flags or pyramid schemes.

However, Thorin stood, leaning down to mutter in Gandalf’s ear. “I cannot guarantee their safety. The Witch, maybe, but the burglar?”

Gandalf stared off into the distance, “Understood.” He acknowledged.

“Nor will I be responsible for his fate.” He added, causing Gandalf to look at him anxiously.

“Agreed.” He nodded. 

“Terms: cash on delivery up to but not exceeding one-fifteenth of total profit, if any.” He read out loud. “Seems fair…” He hummed, reading on.

The Witch handed her contract back to Balin who pulled out his some sort of glass to read it better. “Do you need to read the whole thing?” She stood, gesturing to the Hobbit.

“Of course,” he taunted, waving it slightly. “Only idiots and bored attention-seekers sign documents without reading them first.” 

The Witch frowned, clutching her fist as he spoke. She huffed, raising her hand up to pull her hat onto her head instead of leaving it down like a hood. Before slowly swaying her way toward the side of Bilbo, looking down at the paper to see what it said casually, since she already had given hers to Balin foolishly. 

Bilbo read on, smirking to himself after his jab at the Witch, somewhat prideful at her response. “Present company shall not be liable to injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof incliding, but not limited to… lacerations,” he drawled, causing the Witch to squint, somewhat wide-eyed. “Eviceration,” he pulled the side of the paper to reveal more causes. “Incieration?” The two look at each other then at the Dwarves. The Witch stared at Gandalf, remembering how he failed to mention that the dragon was the big-bad of the quest.

“Oh, aye, He’ll melt the flesh of your bones in a blink of an eye!” Bofur began again. 

“Mr. Baggins,” The Witch shot Bofur a disapproving look, and moved her hand to gently touch the area between Bilbo’s shoulder-blades comfortingly. Her touch felt hot again, immediately reminding Bilbo of the dragon that awaited in the Lonely Mountain, so he swat her hand away. 

“You alright, laddie?” Balin puzzled, leaning forward to get a better look at the exchange that had happened. 

The Witch was not amused, however, just trying to be nice to the man, yet he just won’t stop being a complete dick. It was as if whenever she was too close, he already decided that he hated her. 

“Ah, yeah. Feel a bit faint.” Bilbo explained, breathing heavily. 

“Think furnace– with wings.” Bofur stood up from the table, walking slowly toward the Hobbit. 

Finally deciding that she would not like him back either, an idea crept in her mind, and she placed her hands on her hips. 

“I need air.” The Hobbit stuttered, suffocating on the warmth of the surroundings around him. 

“Flash of light, searing pain, then poof. You’re just a pile of ash.” She knelt down to whisper in his ear, but her breath on his pointed ear and neck felt like the dragon itself was breathing down his neck instead. At that, he slapped his hand onto his neck to cover it, face burning red. Gandalf noticed from afar humming as his Witch teased his Burglar, yet he said nothing. 

Bilbo took a deep breath, not looking at anyone until he collapsed onto the ground with a "Nope!" The Witch stood up straight, hand on her hip with a satisfied grin on her lip. Her gaze landed on Gandalf who was shaking his head in disapproval, and she lowered her head when she couldn’t wipe the grin off her face.

“Oh, nice going, you two.”

Later on in the evening, The witch herself wandered around the Hobbit Hole in curiosity once more. She tried following Gandalf as he went to talk to the Hobbit when he awoke to apologize, but the old wizard shooed her away as if she were a pesky cat that got into his house.

Returning to what Bilbo’s study must be, she found her owl sleeping peacefully upright on a coat hanger. She smiled, leaning down to pick up the bird with her arm outstretched. Its eyes opened, and it climbed onto her arm while she walked towards the window. She pushed it open and held the owl outside. 

“I’ll give you two hours, yeah? I think I saw a little woods out left.” She whispered out loud to the bird. “Good luck, Favonius.” She kissed the top of it’s head and let it fly toward the woods.

She stood at the window, poking out the window as much as she can to breathe in the air. The air felt crisp, fresh, and warm, she liked how interesting Gandalf’s world was, but she felt as though she disappointed her friend. Her lips shifted side to side before she pulled out her pipe and wand. She stuck it in her mouth and tapped the end of it without saying an incantation. The Witch took a deep inhale, debating on whether or not she took it too far. She turned, carefully pulling herself out of the window, and walked out back towards the door, confused at the silence the Hobbit Hole held. 

She took off her hat to rest on the wardrobe she repaired only an hour or so ago, then pulled the hair tie from her hair. She looked to the Dwarves who were talking quietly amongst themselves, and to Gandalf who had just walked off away from the Hobbit who had calmed down.

“It appears we have lost our burglar.” Balin sighed. “Probably for the best.”

The Witch held onto the end of her pipe, letting out a exhale of smoke leave her lips before looking up at Gandalf, who stopped for a moment. 

“No more quips, arguing, or insults out of you two, or else I will send you back from whence you came.” He muttered seriously before raising a finger to the girl and then walking off to converse with the Dwarves.

She coughed on her smoke as if she forgot that she had it in her mouth as Gandalf walked past. Seeing Gandalf like a fatherly figure, she complied and looked toward the Hobbit who was sitting quietly in his chair. Silently, she walked to his side and grabbed the chair Gandalf sat on, and pulled it next to Bilbo. He only stared silently at the fire, stressed out from the situation that already played out. She slouched as she sat, taking a deep breath of fresh air before she inhaled from her pipe. 

“Gandalf give you an earful as well?” She muttered loud enough for Bilbo to hear. 

He said nothing, simply rocking his head back and forth as he stared in acknowledgment. Gandalf did mention that the way they talked to each other was not up to correct hospitality measures, which Bilbo had to keep in mind. The two sat uncomfortably silent, the grudge they held against each other still hung in the air.

“I should say, I really am sorry for what happened earlier, I know that maybe just fixing whatever it was of yours without saying anything about it was rude of me as a guest– even if I did break it.” She rambled on, looking back to see Gandalf staring intently at her before gesturing to the Hobbit with his pipe in hand, “And for helping Bofur scare you a bit, yeah. And– and the teasing. Though you did kind of deserve it sometimes.” The last bit of the ramble she had gone on with died out quietly.

Bilbo hummed in a higher pitch, processing her apology. For an unexpected guest, she did seem to be one of the nicer people here– at least she apologized. He thought to himself as he smoked his weed pipe. The silence between the two returned, and this time the atmosphere was a little less thick.

“Why did you sign it?” Bilbo broke the silence, hand reaching to hold the pipe in his hand. 

The Witch turned her head to look at him before she thought up a random but genuine answer. “Well,” She sighed and her foot bounced on the wood under them. “It’s a long story.” 

Bilbo hummed in acknowledgment but gestured for her to go on. 

“I met Gandalf when I was a little girl at a family get-together. My grandparents are magic users too, you see,” She rambled. “My parents didn’t really like the idea of witchcraft, being a squib and muggle, but they did their best with me- often letting my Uncle take care of me when they didn't know what to do. Gandalf was a friend of my Uncle’s, but he and my sister had a falling out, as siblings do. So I grew up, but Gandalf… Gandalf stayed the same. Always wandering around and appearing when I needed him most.”

Bilbo didn’t respond, but he turned his head to watch her speak with interest. 

“Recently, my Uncle passed away, and he left his estate to me. Never married, never had kids of his own.” She explained.

“I,” He stuttered, voice low. “I’m sorry.”

She waved her hand, easily brushing it off. “No, it's okay. In fact, that's why Gandalf wanted me to come with.” She tried an attempt to make a cool ring of smoke like she saw Bilbo did, but only a formless mess left her lips. “He here came to my house, strolling in at the dead of night to interrupt my current hermit life I had going on in my Uncle's study. He was there to comfort me.” She leaned in toward Bilbo to whisper to him. "But being his best friend and all, I think he's saddened by it as well, but he just won't show it."

Bilbo hesitated to lean in to listen to her. He understood what she was trying to say. The way she tensed when she began to talk about him lead him to believe that she cared more than she would say, but the Hobbit didn't want to upset the girl-- in front of Gandalf, at least. For some reason, however, there was something about the Witch that made him feel ill. The way her hair spilled over her shoulders now that her hair was let down reminded Bilbo of a siren, like in mythological sailor stories. The firelight only made her eyes glow brighter with mischief, and he swallowed hard before moving closer to her as they talked. Gandalf, who was talking to another dwarf to pass the time, caught the glimpse of the two whispering to each other. With a new glint in his eyes, he turned towards the dwarves and pulled out a sack of coins before he asked if any of them were in a betting mood.

“Gandalf, he’s like family to me.” Her voice spoke low, carrying on while Mr. Baggins was in thought, and Bilbo began to feel sick to his stomach when her voice was hushed. “So I will do what he asks of me. I don’t want to let him out of all people down.” Her head tilted to the side.

“What,” he stuttered as he spoke. “What about the dragon? Aren’t you afraid?” 

She leaned back in her chair, still leaned in toward Bilbo, and looked up for a moment. The Hobbit chewed on his pipe as the seconds passed. 

“Yeah, maybe,” The Witch looked at him again, her hair falling out from behind her ear. “I’m not from here if you couldn’t tell, so everything is really new to me. Haven’t really been able to really meet other species, nevertheless travel so far.” 

Bilbo gulped, remembering the abrupt entrance she made earlier. He made a noise and looked at her, forcing a smile. With her sharing so much, maybe she was trying to make peace.

“Do you always travel via… Pork-key?” He butchered. 

“Ah, no, not all the time.” She snorted at his pronunciation, shaking her head. “Pork…keys, damn things, when you use them, it feels way too uncomfortable, but it’s simple enough, though I guess I didn’t have great luck last time.” 

Bilbo chuckled. The politeness with which she spoke made Bilbo rethink the words that he shot at her earlier without much remorse, a sinking feeling bubbling in his stomach. “I'm...I'm sorry your Uncle died, but at least you have Gandalf?” He tried to say, but instantly realized what he said came out horribly wrong, and he sat up quickly with his mouth gapped open. “I didn’t… I meant… not like a replacement, just that he's there.” 

The girl was taken aback, leaning back into her chair. “Um, okay?” Was all she could make at that. She nodded her head and stood up. She shook her head in disbelief, walking hastily out of the room uncomfortably, while Bilbo struggled for words, standing up quickly when she left the room past Gandalf and the Dwarves. Gandalf’s attention switched from the Witch who just walked out the front door to the Hobbit who gave up trying to save what he just said. Bilbo raised his hands and made the smallest of shrugs. Instead of walking after her to explain, he walked out to his bedroom to ponder what had just happened. 

In his room, Bilbo Baggins sat on the edge of his bed, leaning up against the canopy. The fire crackled and he could hear the Dwarves sing a low, homesick song. As he listened to the lyrics, he thought about the adventure he was offered, deciding against going altogether. He wondered what the Witch was doing, and whether or not she had come back yet. He frowned, hands reaching up to the side of his head to scratch and rub the side. Bilbo Baggins did not want to think about her right now, the look of pure repulsion she gave him engraved into his head. His respectful reputation was ruined by now. He cleared his throat and let gravity help him fall to his side. He stared out of his room, feeling his eyes grow heavy while he forced himself to think about something else, anything else. He shifted, forcing himself to sleep instead.