03.
Oakenshield

To Aninth, it felt as though in the next moment, all the Dwarves were finished eating and everyone began to vacate the dining room, leaving it a mess. Not one to sit amongst filth, Aninth too, vacated the dining room.

As she moved from one room to the next, she caught sight of something that caused a smirk to grow on her face. The dishes were flying down the hallway, going from the hands of the blond Dwarf who had given out the ale, to another young, dark-haired Dwarf, who was then tossing them into the kitchen. Bilbo was putting up quite the protest.

"Excuse me, that's my mother's West Farthing pottery. It's over a hundred years old!"

Aninth felt movement around her neck as Ryvniss stretched out as he made his way from laying around her neck to sitting on her shoulder. "Awake now, are you?" she asked him, looking over at him.

"This Company is quite noisy," he reminded her.

"You were the one that told me to come," she answered.

Smirking still, Aninth was still looking down when she took a step forward and bumped right into someone. The other person reached out and gripped her arm so they both wouldn't fall.

"Sorry," they said and when Aninth looked up, she realized it was the other woman that had been at the table. That was when she noticed the woman's eyes on Ryvniss and she smiled.

"His name is Ryvniss," Aninth explained, "The Dark, The Swift and The Stubborn." She didn't miss the huff he gave at the last title.

"Ryvniss?" she said with a cocked brow. "Does it have a meaning?"

Aninth shrugged in response, a smirk pulling onto her lips. "I just like the name."

"Nothing wrong with a name with no meaning," she said. "It gives mystery, I think."

"I'm Aninth, Champion of Dragons, Protector of Creatures, Destroyer of Men and the last of the Dragonkin," she said whilst extending her hand out towards the fellow blonde. "It has no meaning either."

She chuckled and grasped her hand, giving it a shake. "Nor does mine. My name is Ygritte, though I'm sure you probably already knew my name when my father recruited you."

"Gandalf is your father?" Aninth's eyes widened in surprise.

"Or not," Ygritte said, some light laughter slipping past her lips. "I do believe he doesn't speak of me. No one seems to know who I am in this Company."

Their attention was suddenly drawn away from each other as the dwarves burst out into song whilst throwing around the dirty utensils and dishes.

"Blunt the knives, bend the forks, smash the bottles and burn the corks, chip the glasses and crack the plates -- that's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"

Ygritte chuckled. "Have you been around dwarves before? Do they usually break out into song?"

Aninth laughed along with her. "Aye, they do. Expect more of this."

"Cut the cloth and tread on the fat, leave the bones on the bedroom mat, pour the milk on the pantry floor..."

Ygritte and Aninth moved out of the way as a dwarf walked past them with a broom.

"...splash the wine on every door. Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl, pound them up with a thumping pole; when you've finished, if any are whole send them down the hall to roll...that's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" The song ended with laughter shared.

Ygritte and Aninth were now standing closer to the doorway of the kitchen, where all the plates, cups and utensils have been neatly stacked and perfectly cleaned. Aninth was not the only one shocked: Bilbo stood before them with wide eyes.

Suddenly, there are three loud knocks on the door, which causes everyone to fall silent. A chill ran down Aninth's spine. Gandalf then spoke.

"He is here."

Everyone followed after Gandalf and Bilbo as they headed for the door. Bilbo was the one to open it, pulling the door open wide and revealing the person on the other side.

His hair was longer than the other's, and also darker, but Aninth didn't miss the streaks of grey within it. Two braids came from just past his hairline at his temple, tied at the end with silver beads. His eyes, similarly dark as his hair, fixed on Gandalf.

"Gandalf," he said as he entered, "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for the mark on the door."

"Mark?" Bilbo questioned, "there's no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!"

"There is a mark, I put it there myself," Gandalf admitted. There was a pause. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce you to the leader of our company: Thorin Oakenshield."

"So," Thorin said, "this is the Hobbit. Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

"Pardon me?"

"Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?"

Aninth found the question redundant, and the tone of Thorin's voice made it seem almost rude, though it was a fair question. One look at Bilbo and you could easily see that he had never once been in any kind of fight, and had certainly never held a weapon. Thorin had to already know this.

"Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that's relevant," Bilbo replied.

"Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." The Dwarves all burst into laughter at Thorin's remark before beginning to lead their Company leader into the dining room.

Aninth sighed. She knew it was only a matter of time before she would be on the receiving end of remarks like that. Regardless, she followed after everyone back to the dining room and sat near the back where she had been sat before. By that time, Thorin had been given a bowl of stew that he was eating.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?"

"Aye," Thorin said in a gruff voice. "Envoys from all seven kingdoms."

Murmurs of joy were spread amongst the dwarves.

"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?"

Thorin shook his head. "They will not come." This time, the murmurs were of disappointment. "They say this quest is ours, and ours alone."

"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo asked from where he stood behind Thorin.

Aninth looked over at Bilbo in confusion. Did he not know why they were all here? Had Gandalf not told him before allowing thirteen Dwarves to barge into his home? Judging by the way Ygritte shifted in her chair, she hadn't been aware that Bilbo didn't know either.

"Bilbo, my dear fellow," Gandalf said, "let us have a little more light."

Bilbo gave a nod and scurried off to find some more light. Gandalf pulled out a map from his pocket and spread it out on the table. Bilbo soon returned with a candle and placed it near the map. Aninth strained to be able to see the map.

"Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak," said Gandalf.

"The Lonely Mountain," Bilbo read out loud.

"Aye," nodded one of the Dwarves, "Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time."

"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," Oin said.

Bilbo's face scrunched up in concern. "Uh, what beast?"

"Well, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire­breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks, extremely fond of precious metals­."

"Stereotypes," Aninth said, leaning back and crossing her arms.

"Yes, I know what a dragon is," Bilbo said, regardless.

The youngest of the dwarves then rose from the table and slammed his fists down on the table. "I'm not afraid! I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of the Dwarfish iron right up his jacksie."

Several dwarves shouted, one even forcing him back into his chair with a loud, "Sit down!" The youngest Dwarf slumped over in his chair slightly.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest."

That was very clearly the wrong choice of words, as the other Dwarves started shouting out their objections.

"Hey, who are you calling dim?"

"Watch it!"

"No!"

"What did he say?" Asked Oin, glancing to the dwarf seated beside him.

The blonde, long-haired Dwarf then spoke up, "we may be few in number, but we're fighters, all of us, to the last dwarf!"

Beside him, the dark-haired Dwarf he had been throwing the plates too spoke up, "and you forget, we have not one, but two wizards in our company. Gandalf and his daughter will have killed hundreds of dragons in their time."

Aninth could see Ygritte shifting in her chair. The other blonde was looking over at Aninth and the dragon on her shoulder. She seemed to be the only one to realize the implications of those words to her.

"Oh, well, now, uh, I­-I­-I wouldn't say that, I­ -- " Gandalf stuttered.

"How many, then?" Dori asked.

"Uh, what?"

The white-haired dwarf was staring at Gandalf and his daughter with a large smile. "Well, how many dragons have you killed? Go on, give us a number!"

When Gandalf embarrassedly began coughing on his pipe smoke; the Dwarves jump to their feet, yelling and arguing about the number of dragons Gandalf and Ygritte must have killed. Anger fizzled through Aninth's veins and she stomped it down as best she could.

Thorin jumped up in anger and bellowed, "Shazara!" and they all quieted and sat down. Aninth knew the Dwarvish word he had shouted. Quiet.

Thorin glanced all his fellow dwarves before speaking again. "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumours 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? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!"

The dwarves began to cheer.

"You forget: the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain."

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true." Gandalf twirled his wrist and a dwarvish key, ornately wrought, appeared in his hand.

Thorin looked at it in reverence. "How came you by this?" he asked with the same amount of reverence in his tone as was on his face.

"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now." Gandalf handed the key over to Thorin - and everyone else - looked at it in wonder.

"If there is a key, there must be a door."

Gandalf nodded, and with a gesture of his pipe, he pointed at the runes on his map. "These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls."

"There's another way in."

"Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed," Ygritte said, speaking for the first time since Thorin arrived.

"Ygritte is correct," Gandalf said. "The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle­ Earth who can. The task 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 that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar," realized one of the dwarves.

"Hm, a good one, too. An expert, I'd imagine," Bilbo said as he peered down at the map.

"And are you?"

Bilbo glanced up from the map to find everyone was now staring at him. "Am I what?"

"He said he's an expert! Hey hey!" Several of the dwarves began to laugh.

"I do believe he never said that," Ygritte said.

"Yes," Bilbo said, nodding toward Ygritte. Then he frantically shook his head. "No, no, no, no, no. I'm not a burglar; I've never stolen a thing in my life."

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He's hardly burglar material." Bilbo nodded in agreement to Thorin's words.

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves."

Bilbo continued nodding in agreement as the Dwarves began to argue, loudly, amongst themselves. Aninth rolled her eyes and sighed, wondering if this entire journey was going to be spent listening to arguments among the Dwarves.

Gandalf then began to slowly rise to his full height, casting a darkness over the group with his abilities. The group of arguing Dwarves stopped their arguing to stare at her father in what might have been a little bit of fear. "Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is."

Gandalf stared at them for a moment before sitting back down next to Ygritte, letting light come back into the room again.

"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of Hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. 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, including himself. You must trust me on this," Gandalf finished.

Thorin nodded after a moment. "Very well. We will do it your way. I have asked you for a fourteenth, but have you made it a Company of sixteen?"

Gandalf glanced at his daughter and then Aninth. "My daughter, Ygritte, she will be a great addition to the Company. As for Aninth, her kin once stood alongside yours, it only seems proper for her to be apart of this quest, does it not?"

Thorin glanced at both females before releasing a small sigh, his eyes lingering on the dragon wrapped around Aninth's shoulder for a long moment. Aninth met his eyes with a look that begged him to argue, or to at least try.

"Very well," Thorin said. "Give Mr. Baggins the contract."

"Alright, we're off!"

Bilbo is then handed the contract by one of the dwarves "It's just the usual summary of out­of­pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth."

Bilbo's eyes widened. "Funeral arrangements?" With the contact clutched in his hands, he took a few steps back to read it.

As Bilbo was reading, Thorin leaned toward Gandalf and had a whispered conversation that eventually Ygritte joined in on.

Bilbo began reading parts of the contract out loud. "Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one-sixteenth of total profit, if any. Seems fair. Eh, Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations... evisceration... incineration?"

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye."

Anith sighed in exasperation, but she could only hope that the Dwarf was really that thick and not just trying to get to Bilbo.

"You alright, Bilbo?" Ygritte asked in concern.

Bilbo bent over, a nauseous and pained expression pulling onto his face. "Uh, yeah...feel a bit faint."

"Think furnace with wings."

Ygritte whipped her head in the direction of the dwarf and sent him a small glare, to which he shrugged in response to. She rolled her eyes before looking back at Bilbo.

"Air, I­-I­-I need air."

"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash."

Aninth stood to her feet, leaning on the table to look down towards Bilbo, "not all Dragons just like to kill! Smaug is a terrible example."

"Hmmm," Bilbo said, straightening his back and rolling his shoulders. He relaxed, took one single breath, "nope."

Bilbo's legs gave out and he hit the floor, unconscious.

Gandalf sighed. "Ah, very helpful, Bofur."