A/N: As requested by Seltika, this story is my OC going on the Quest for Erebor as it is described in the films. I will still occasionally change things if they make little sense to me, but mostly, refer to Peter Jackson's visuals for guidance.
A/N#2: I made a board on my Pinterest (kkolmakov) for this story. If you want to know what Werna looks like in my head, refer to it. I think the Slovakian actress Eva Vica Kerekes is as perfect for Werna as it gets :)
171 Years Later, The Company's Arrival to Hobbiton
Bilbo Baggins was feeling quite out of sorts. First, a crowd of Dwarves invaded his home, pillaged his pantries and trod mud all over his carpets, then their imposing, grumpy looking leader started pronouncing pathos filled, rather disturbing speeches, then a map and a key resurfaced, and the bearded barbarians were arguing and being quite loud, and finally it turned out Bilbo was to join them on an adventure, and as their official burglar no less.
He was sitting in his armchair, sipping his chamomile and thinking back at everything that had just transpired at his dinner table. There was a lot of history and drama behind this whole story, and Bilbo was not that certain he quite enjoyed it.
Mostly he was rather concerned with the poor organisation of the whole endeavour. As limited as his knowledge of the Dwarven history was, he knew that Dwarves were many in Middle Earth, Seven Kingdoms as that dark faced King of theirs mentioned over his soup, and just thirteen of them were clearly not the most representative of the Mountain Dwellers. And again, they were not travelling to Bree for a few barrels of ale. There was after all... a dragon. A small squeak once again escaped Bilbo at this thought.
Not thirteen of the best, nor brightest... That line from the most respectable looking out of them, the white bearded Balin, had also added to Bilbo's concern. His unexpected guests indeed had not struck him as the most intellectually gifted, or cautious, which Bilbo, as a genuine hobbit, considered perhaps even more important than wits.
Gandalf sat into an armchair in front of Bilbo and started recollecting Bilbo's family history, referring to his great, great, great, great uncle Bullroarer Took, who could apparently ride a horse and perform the most formidable acts that no respectable Hobbit would even consider. Bilbo was shaking his head and finally asked the most important question.
"Can you promise that I will come back?" The answer was very much what one would expect from a wizard, disturbing and ambiguous.
"No. And if you do, you'll not be the same." Well, that decided then, and Bilbo rose on his feet to leave when another loud knock came into his front door.
Bilbo threw a questioning look at the wizard whose face suddenly gained that aloof, disinterested expression that children tended to have when their mischief was about to be discovered.
"What?.." Bilbo mumbled and after receiving no response from the wizard whatsoever he marched to his front door. He passed Thorin and Balin in the central hall, they had been quietly conversing and immediately grew silent when seeing him. Bilbo's nose twitched in frustration, and trying to keep his head up he stomped by them and jerked the front door open.
Behind it he found yet another Dwarf. Were Bilbo not a well brought up Baggins, he would swear. A dark green cloak with a hood low on the face, the figure was shorter than any other of Bilbo's guests, and narrower too, and then two rather small hands in leather gloves flew up, the hood fell back, and Bilbo saw the most astonishing thing of all.
A Dwarven maiden.
"Werna, daughter of Lyr, at your service," she had confident melodic voice and gave his a low bow. It was of the same manner as Balin had given him at the beginning of the evening, the same grace and a certain amount of flamboyance, and to his shock Bilbo saw two battle axes strapped to her back.
She was red haired, face peppered by bright orange freckles, had strange slanted eyes, with thick black lashes, and a turn up nose. Overall she was nothing Bilbo had imagined a female Dwarf to be. She was his height, but the waist was narrow and the hips were round, unlike much stockier Hobbit ladies, and there was a certain contradiction in her. On one hand, there was jewelery on her fingers and in her earlobes, hair was braided intricately with heavy pins decorating it. And yet she was dressed in manly cut clothes, her attire mostly reminiscent of the older nephew of the Dwarven leader, Fili. She had a practical coat of warm brown colour under her cloak, with a fox fur collar, a velvet doublet peeking from underneath it and trousers of the same coffee with cream colour. The boots were sturdy and practical, but again much lighter than those that the one called Kili had tried to clean over Bilbo's mother's glory box.
"Bilbo Baggins at yours," mumbled Bilbo, awkwardly returning the bow. He was so flabberghasted by the picture in front of him that he just continued standing on his threshold without inviting his new guest in.
"I am looking for the company of Thorin Oakenshield, Master Baggins, and I was informed that here was where I could find them." The eyes were indeed rather unusual, the colour of irises seemed fluid, everchanging, from bright green to warm golden amber, the outer corners upturned, and Bilbo felt heady blush spill on his cheeks.
"Um… They are inside… But the supper is over..." He mumbled and mumbled, feeling even worse from his own ramblings, and somehow still not inviting the maiden in, and she gave him a soft reassuring smile.
"Fortunately, I am not hungry. May I come in?"
Bilbo jumped back inside the house and to the side, and she walked in. There was assured grace in all her movements, and she took off her cloak and hung it on the peg near the door.
"Where can I leave my weapons, Master Baggins?" Her strange eyes were laughing, and Bilbo had just stretched his arms to take her axes, and the short sword he saw clasped to her wide belt, when a rough voice came from behind him.
"Dania?.." Bilbo twirled on his heels and stared at the imposing leader of the Dwarves. The previously arrogant face was wan, eyes widened, and Bilbo saw the dilated pupils and the chest rising in short breaths.
171 Years Ago, The Morning of the Day Before the Smaug's Attack
"And besides," Thorin turned around continuing walking backwards, "I do not like the langet on this axe, you can take it..." Dwalin who was following him lifted his hand to warn the Prince, when Thorin's back smashed into a person turning around the corner.
Thorin swirled around and looked. There was empty space on his eyes' level, and he dropped them. The girl he collided with was short and was rubbing her forehead. He quickly noticed bright orange curls, escaping an intricate do, and a luxurious velvet attire.
Her chaperone appeared from around the corner and rushed to the girl.
"My lady, are you alright?"
"Quite so," the girl mumbled, and then narrowed strange eyes flew up to his face. "Except this lulkh ran into me." Fool in Khuzdul made Thorin give her an incredulous look. She was too young to learn the tongue yet, and its rather frivolous usage was astonishing.
"I beg pardon, I did not see you..." Thorin heard Dwalin's snort behind him and clenched his jaw.
"Because you were walking like an azahsefasmuzm," the girl hissed at him. Comparison to a crayfish did not please him either.
"And you could have looked better where you were going, and besides I have apologised!" His temper was rising, and she jerked her chin up. Some noise suspiciously reminiscent of a suppressed laugh came from behind the Prince, and he threw a glare to his closest friend.
"Apology not accepted," the girl deadpanned and marched by him. Her chaperone rushed after her.
"My lady, it was Prince Thorin, you cannot speak in such a tone to him..." Thorin was staring at the straight back of the red haired girl, moving away from them along the corridor. The maid had to mince quickly after her, the girl was a fast walker.
"Do not tell me what I can or cannot do, Enna. He felt no regret, and thus his apology was nothing but empty words..." The voice of the girl trailed away, both her and the maid disappearing around the corner, and Dwalin finally gave in to his frolics.
"Mahal help me, your face..." His large palm clapped on Thorin's shoulder, and the Prince snarled.
"What a nuisance of a thing! Who was it?"
"Dain Ironfoot's niece. They arrived yesterday with the emissaries from Iron Hills. There are two of them, both redheads. Both with temper." Dwalin looked at the corner the girl vanished around.
"Mahal save us from that!" Thorin spat out in disdain and grabbed Dwalin's tunic on the shoulder. "Common, we still need to have a look at those axes."
171 Years Later, The Company's Arrival to Hobbiton
Bilbo watched the lips of the Dwarven maiden part slightly and emotions splashed in her eyes. Feverish red spots bloomed on her high cheekbones, bright on her pale skin.
"Thorin..." She breathed out, and then Dwalin showed up from around the corner and froze a step behind the Dwarven leader. The warrior's jaw slacked.
His appearance seemed to have sobered up Bilbo's latest guest, and she bestowed the still bewildered imposing Dwarven King with a low decorous bow.
"My lord, I am not Dania. I am Werna, daughter of Lyr, the younger niece of Dain Ironfoot. Dania is my older sister."
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