That's Another Story For Later

Twinkle

*This is a more front view of Iridian. Please enjoy! Also maybe vote for my story...?*

Three days later, we arrived at the gates to the Shire. Night had fallen, and lights were ablaze in little Hobbiton. I slid off Nyx, a small groan escaping my lips at the three hard days of riding. "If this has already got you, you might as well go back home." Dwalin joked. "There'll be a lot more riding after this." I smiled, placing my hands on my hips.

"I'll get used to it. I can't believe you're still trying to get rid of me after three days of me not letting you. I'm ready to reclaim Erebor, and I don't care what you say." I placed my hands on my hips, cocking one out. "Who knows, maybe I'll be a better fighter than you once we encounter something." I raised an eyebrow in mockery.

He clapped my shoulder, and we headed into the Shire, trying to find the house that would host us. As we passed the market, I snagged some food, more like stole it, and continued walking. We passed many Hobbits, receiving just as many strange looks. One Hobbit caught my eye; she was small with blonde hair and a stocky frame, and a cute round face. "Hey Calula! What're you cooking tonight?" Someone joked.

"Chicken!" The small Hobbit answered.

"No doubt the smell will be delicious!" The people in the market cheered. They were joyful folk, as though they never knew what trouble was. After winding our way through Hobbiton, we came to a house at the top of the hill, with a small rune inscribed, glowing blue.

"This is it." Dwalin said. I pushed my black hood down as he rang the doorbell. There was a moment of silence before the door opened, revealing a well kept and tidy home. I felt bad for the Hobbit standing at the door. Odds are it would be destroyed momentarily. The Hobbit in question had huge feet, and red hair, with a striped undershirt, and he looked incredibly disgruntled. He had a patchwork robe over his deep red coat.

I looked at Dwalin, to find his face stoic and serious, and kind of menacing had I not known him like a father. "Dwalin," He bowed slightly. "At your service." He said bluntly. I rolled my eyes at the dwarf. From the Hobbit's mouth came a strange whimpering noise, still shocked at the sight of the two strangers on his doorstep. Two very tall, and one very buff stranger

"Bilbo Baggins, at yours." He said slowly. As he tied his robe, he tightened it at the word 'Baggins' His voice was quiet and polite. Dwalin walked inside, not waiting for the Hobbit named Bilbo to invite him. I made a small noise, but didn't argue. "Uh, do we know each other?" He said, following Dwalin's movements. I followed him, keeping a confident composure, fear of rejection was on the forefront of my mind.

"No." He said again with a blunt tone. "Which way, laddie? Is it down here?" He said while taking off his cloak.

"Is what down where?" Dwalin came toward Bilbo, shoving his cloak into his hands. I left mine on, liking the security and warmth it provided.

"Supper. He said there'd be good food, and lots of it." Dwalin started to walk away, in search of the kitchen. I sighed, and followed him slightly, and then stopped, turning to face Bilbo.

"H-He said? Who said?" Bilbo followed Dwalin, a concerned look in his eyes. I tapped on the Hobbit's shoulder lightly. He started and turned around, setting the dwarf's cloak down.

"I apologize for Dwalin's actions. He's a little blunt from time to time. I also apologize in advance for what will happen."

"I'm sorry but who are you? And what will happen?" He said politely.

"Oh. Right. Iridian. At your service." I bowed slightly. "And it's not my place to tell you what will happen. I apologize. But I will not need supper so please don't worry." I smiled slightly apologetically. Bilbo smiled back.