Author's notes: WARNING: This ficlet contains spoilers for the movie; The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, and the book. If you haven't seen or read it yet, prepare to be spoiled :)
Also: This ficlet contains different types of perception. Not only is it written in you-tense. But also in third person. Each and every 'switch' of perception (or a sudden change of scenery) is indicated by this little fellow: - .
You were thinking, with a frown on your lips.
Bilbo saw Ayne's eyes growing distant and a frown pull at her lips. Perhaps she was thinking?
Anyways! I hope you guys enjoy this ficlet! :D (And that I stay in-character -.-") The first chapter is a prologue and I wish that you guys find it not to cheesy (and not too crappy) for you tast- Oooh! Cheese!
Note: This fanfic will be completely rewritten in third person after it is finished. Apparently doesn't like my writing style..
Far over, the misty mountains cold.
To dungeons deep, and caverns old.
We must away, ere break of day.
To find our long-forgotten gold.
The pines were roaring, on the heights.
The winds were moaning, in the night.
The fire was red, its flaming spread.
The trees like torches, blazed with light.
Chapter 01: The Final Guest
Once upon a time there was a hole, not a dark and murky one, filled with cobwebs and other vermin. No, this was a Hobbithole. Which meant that it was warm, cosy and filled with good food and hospitality, at least when the Hobbit living there knew its guests. Now, it did not. Despite that, there was still good food!
You smirked to yourself when you walked past the small gate and walked on the cobble stones towards the marked front door. The lantern above it shone a warm and welcome light in your face. You almost felt bad for being so terribly and inexplicitly late, the night was growing older by the minute you stood here facing the closed, rounded, green door with Gandalf's mark on it.
Slowly you raised your gloved, petite hand –and knocked twice.
Bilbo looked up from his place against the wooden frame of his little hole. The dwarfs had holed up around the fire and began singing, oblivious to the knocking on his little green front door.
"Please, let there not be another one." He strongly wished to himself as he walked to the door, closing his small fingers around the round door knob in the middle. With a deep breath, the little hobbit wiggled his toes, wiggling courage into his heart as he slowly opened the door. Immediately someone stepped inside the moment the access to his little hole was granted.
"Pardon me, for being terribly and terribly late. I missed supper didn't I? Oh well, wasn't that hungry anyway. You are Bilbo Baggings right? Nice to meet you, I'm Ayne."
Bilbo blinked a couple of times, when his hand was grabbed by a similar appendage, but it didn't feel quite dwarf-like; tinier and more feminine. His eyes focused on the figure in front of him and took a few steps back, pulling his hand out of the grip of the dwarf in front of him.
He thought all dwarves were large and robust, this one proved quite to be the opposite. Namely; it was a woman, not broad and man-like as the rumours and legends went, but she was nicely proportioned and slim below the armour plates and hides that she wore. Her hair was a deep golden blond -'Like my grandmother's jewellery-', Bilbo thought-, pulled in a messy bun in the back of her neck. Bangs cover her forehead and some –that escaped the bun- framed her face or were pulled back behind her delicate ears.
She had no beard –according to legends-, but had a perfect smooth skin, with a few freckles here and there on her nose and rosy cheeks. Her eyes were a blue-greyish colour, twinkling with a delight, calmness and an inner fire that she radiated and made the little hobbit feel a bit more at ease than earlier. She grinned, showing a row of good, strong teeth in a delicious smile.
He was speechless.
"Uh.. eh. Huh?" The hobbit before you babbled, possibly overwhelmed. Causing you to giggle a bit, making the armour and fur you wore shake a bit by the movement. "You know, we're about the same height. Figured Hobbit's were tinier." You walked passed Bilbo, looking around the cosy hole and your eyes focused on the room, where the light of the fire flickered and a deep singing emerged from.
Your feet, stuck in sturdy leather boots, carried you to the door frame, the little hobbit at your heels, still stammering but eventually falling silent. You leaned against the door frame, listening to their –no our- song. Feeling your heart sink and making you swallow a hard lump that was stuck in your throat.
"The fire was red, it flaming spread. The trees like torches, blazed with light."
Bilbo listened to the woman sing, her voice was a bit rough around the edges, but still beautiful to his slightly pointed ears. Immediately dwarves stopped singing and looked up, noticing the woman standing in the doorframe.
"Ayne, by the gods." Balin muttered, his snow white beard twitching as he spoke and slowly walked towards the woman. A kind smile pulled up at her lips as she walked to the older dwarf. Balin cupped her face with his, whispered something in dwarfish with a wavering and emotional voice and then pulled her into a tight hug, which Ayne heart-warmingly returned to the slightly smaller dwarf.
"You came! I thought you were gone, vanished or worse! Where have you been all those years?"
The female dwarf slightly pulled back and stroked away a strand from his face and then stepped away. The grey cells in the little hobbit's head were starting to twist and turn. Who was this woman? He sensed there was a lot more to her than just a simple smile and the twinkle in her eyes.
"Everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Gandalf found me," her eyes met those of the wizard, whom smiled approvingly, "and told me of Thorin's plan. That's the reason I am here, I want to join."
Thorin straightened his back, his presence filling the room and took a few steps forward, his mind working behind his dark grey eyes. Bilbo suddenly felt like the tiny hobbit he was amidst all these powerful dwarves; skilled with crafts, weapons and tongue. What would he add to the group if he would join? He wasn't a fighter, nor the burglar they thought he was. He had never stolen a thing!
"And what would you have to offer Ayne, daughter of Aynúr? A sword or axe? We have plenty of that. A bow? We already have Kili-" the younger dwarf shifted uncomfortably on his seat, "So tell me why I would take you with us?"The look on Thorin's face was one of pure disgust as he spat the name of the woman. Bilbo noticed that she had clenched her jaw and her beautiful eyes had darkened. Her whole form was tensed as he spoke at her like she was vermin. Then when he was finished she took a deep breath, straightened her back and walked towards the man, almost meeting him in height, but not in broadness. Making her seem very petite and fragile.
"I am a healer, can handle myself with a sword and at my best with my tongue and wit. Gandalf is probably not constantly at our side- you know how wizards are- so you need someone with medical knowledge and a clear view on the matter. One who isn't afraid of you or licking your heels, Thorin Oakenshield." Her words were sharp, making Thorin's brow twitch and the corner of his mouth pull at the insult.
"She is right, Thorin. Though she is not close kin and doesn't have your trust yet, she is a valuable asset as a healer and navigator, plus she can fight quite well." Gandalf offered, his brow pulled up, showing more wrinkles in his aged and wise face. Thorin grumbled at those words; "First a useless hobbit and now a traitor? You are really testing my faith in you, wizard."
"Yes or no? Don't come calling for me when you –or the rest- are mortally wounded if you say no, Thorin." Ayne bit at him, getting to the point. A heavy silence settled in the room, so heavy that our little hobbit could hear every breath taking and almost the grey cells between the ears, working in overdrive.
Finally it was broken.
"Very well, you can come, but you will have to pull your own weight and stay at the back. I don't want you in my sights." The dwarrow prince briskly seethed, turning around and facing the fire once more. A small smile appeared on Ayne's face, making the seriousness dissolve. Bilbo finally had the feeling that he could breathe again –and so did the rest of the dwarves, judging by their faces- , now that the tension in the air ebbed away.
"But of course, Thorin. Oh, and don't worry; I brought my own transportation." She gave a small wink to Gandalf and was welcomed by the rest of their little merry group. Bilbo pulled himself back into the shadows, as Bofur gave Ayne slap on her shoulder, laughing with the rest when she told a joke that his hobbit's ear couldn't hear.
'Did Thorin just call the woman a traitor? If so, then why did the rest treat the woman like their equal? Perhaps they didn't need me after all, now that they have her. Perhaps I could stay here at Bag End and live my life normally, unadventurous.'
But why did our little hobbit not even believe himself?
Additional AN: Ayne: A more fancy written version of 'Aine' that has a Gaelic and Celtic origin; meaning 'Brilliant, Happiness'.
Because in the LOTR-universe, and in our own past, names from the fathers were passed over to sons and daughters alike, but slightly changed. So, I found it fitting that her/your father was named 'Aynúr'.
 The correct pluralization of Dwarf in the works of J. R. R. Tolkien is noted to be Dwarrows or sometimes Dwerrows. Thus I have taken up this trait; sometimes calling the dwarves, 'dwarves' or 'dwarrow'.