"I'm alright, just let me sit quietly for a moment." Bilbo Baggins was saying as I handed him a warm cup of tea, some of the leftover Chamomile that I was able to heat up, via my hands, which I had used to heat up the tea pot, using the energy I revised from my previous light-show, which I realized the hobbit had not seen, and therefore had no clue yet; and for that I was grateful.

"You've been sitting quietly for far too long." Gandalf said as Bilbo's shaking hands lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. "Tell me, when did doilies and your mothers dishes become so important to you?" Gandalf asked, still bent over as he walked around Bilbo's chair, looking at him with his pipe in his right hand. "I remember a young hobbit who was always running off in search of elves in the woods. You would stay out late, come home after dark trailing mud and twigs and fireflies. A young hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what lay beyond the borders of the Shire." Gandalf spoke.

Bilbo looked stiff, even in his comfortable parlor, sitting in his maroon felted armchair. I stood at the side of the room, next to the bookshelf – marveling over the well-aged books, nothing like my moth eaten, worn down pages in my shack back in the woods near Bree. I wondered if I would ever see them again or see my shack that I had called home for so many years.

"The world is not in your books and maps; it's out there." Gandalf said, looking towards the round window that was open, yawning open towards the vast green land, shadowed by the velvet veil of the night.

"I can't just go running off into the blue I am a Baggins," a whimper caught in his throat and he swallowed, "of Bag-End." He finished and held up a hand, as if this finalized the conversation.

"You are also a Took." Gandalf said and Bilbo leaned his head back in exhaustion, as if he was irritated from the name of his ancestors, irritated that he had been called that even though he thought himself much more respectable than those who bore that name. "Did you know that your great-great-great-great uncle Bullroarer Took was so large he could ride a real horse?" Gandalf asked, and I followed his brief gaze to a picture of a large hobbit on the wall, a pile in his hand, and pair scraggly sideburns that mocked his double-chin.

"Yes." Bilbo muttered quietly.

"Well, he could!" Gandalf snapped, and straightened up as much as he could under the low ceiling, head still bent down. "In the battle of Green-Fields, he charged the goblin ranks, and he swung his club so hard that it knocked the goblin king's head clean off and it sailed a hundred yards through the air, and went down a rabbit-hole." I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling at this retelling. "And thus, the battle was won... and the game of golf invented at the same time." Gandalf said and I swore I could see a smile touch Bilbo's lips.

"I do believe you made that up." Bilbo said and Gandalf sat down on wooden stool, folding his hands in his lap and leaning over his knees.

"All good stories deserve embellishment." He replied. "You'll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you return." Gandalf said, and Bilbo pursed his lips, looking up at Gandalf.

"Can you promise that I will come back?" Bilbo asked softly, the question swirling in his eyes. Gandalf hesitated and I tried to meet his gaze but his blue eyes were fixed on Bilbo.

"No," he replied honestly, "and if you do, you will not be the same." He said with a hushed voice, and Bilbo nodded for a moment, but I knew he had made up his mind.

"That's what I thought." He sighed, and placed his teacup on a coaster that sat atop his coffee table. He stood and looked at Gandalf, drawing in a deep breath. "I'm sorry Gandalf, I can't sign this." He said refuting to the contract. "You've got the wrong hobbit." With that Bilbo stood and stepped around his chair, his curls bobbing as he stepped under the curved archway and disappeared from sight.

"That's that." Gandalf said and stood up, knees creaking as he stood and I looked over my shoulder at him.

"Will we continue without him?" I asked, and Gandalf looked over at me, a small shrug of his shoulders followed by a harsh exhale.

"We may have to yet, but I believe he will find the Took side in him." Gandalf said and put a hand on my shoulder. "As for you..." he sighed. "I am sorry I put you on the spot, but I believed that if they learned of your... unique abilities earlier rather than later, it would be beneficial to you, and there is a possible rise in your pay." Gandalf said, a small smile on his face.

I felt my fist clench in my pockets. "The money is not my only motive." I said and Gandalf nodded slowly.

"I know what it is you want, but I cannot promise you'll... you'll be..."

"Be alive long enough to see the reward, I know the risks Gandalf, I took them as I took the promise of reward." I said and Gandalf smiled down at me.

"You are very brave, Valerie Everfell, but there is a fine line between brave and suicidal." He said and I playfully nudged him with my elbow.

"We both know there is no line." I smirked up at him, and he chuckled a bit patting my back.

We walked from the parlor and we found our way to the library where the dwarves had gathered, pipe smoke hovered in the air, creating wispy trails and pools in the air that hung and drifted out the window. A few of them held cups of ale and I sat down near Ori and Kili. There was a slow hum in the air and I took note of Thorin, who stood by the mantel piece, hand holding his pipe as he leaned on the mantle. The light illuminated the room with an amber glow, washing over the room in a delicate haze.

"Far over, the Misty mountains cold

To dungeons deep, and caverns old,

We must away, ere brake of day,

To find our long-forgotten gold."

Thorin's voice was low and resonated throughout the halls, hypnotic and lulling. Balin's voice the joined the slow song, his voice bleeding into the melody like silver to a mold.

"The pines were roaring on the height

The winds were moaning in the night."

Soon every voice of dwarvish throats had lifted into the air and one by one, joining in this song. Thorin slowly turned to the company, eyes scanning over his kin, as they slowly stood from their seats, voices echoing within my skull.

"The fire was red, it flaming spread,

The trees like torches, blazed with light..."

With these words I painted the vision of the stories my grandmother told, her hands waving through the air as a bit of flame threaded itself in the air. Lowered my head as I felt Thorin's gaze on me, awaiting my stand. I pressed my hands on my knees and stood up, looking from my boots up to his steal gaze, and he slowly lowered his head in a nod of respect. I nodded back and looked over the others, the smoke drifting around my head, mocking my vision.

I guess it was official now, I was a part of the company of Thorin Oakensheild...