Book 1: Come Home [Thorin Oakenshield]

Chapter 3

They moved into the entryway as the Wizard opened the door to greet their last individual.

"Gandalf," spoke a deep voice just outside. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice." He entered as all the others did, not waiting for an invite and began removing the cloak draped over his shoulders. "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 the door. It was painted a week ago."

"There is a mark," Gandalf confessed. "I put it there myself." The Hobbit found himself at a loss for words. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company: Thorin Oakenshield."

The Dwarf stepped in front of the Halfling, sizing him up. "So... this is the Hobbit." Thorin began circling him to examine the Halfling further. "Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

"Pardon me?"

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

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

The Dwarf gave an amused chuckle, saying over a shoulder to his comrades, "Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

As the Dwarves shared a laugh, Poppy's brow arched. Bilbo? A bugler? She had never heard something so ridiculous in all her life. He couldn't take anything from someone, let alone allow people to suffer from the loss of something dear to them. Where on earth had they ever gotten such an idea? She stepped out of their way as the company moved back into the dining room and fed Thorin some bread and soup at the table. But the happy-go-lucky atmosphere did not return. Obviously this was a man of great importance, because all looked up to him with respect.

Despite having the appearance of a warrior there was also a regal nature about him. His dark hair was streaked with silver, two braids in the front part of his hair with metal beads at the ends. Despite being on the road, he looked rather groomed. Dark beard not scraggly or long in nature like many of the others. And he stood taller than many of the others already occupying the home.

Thorin listened as his company talked lowly among themselves, enjoying the warm food silently. That was until the one with the funny hat, Bofur, spoke up,

"Is everything alright, lass?"

He stared over their leader's shoulder, all eyes turning and watching as Poppy observed their weapons with care. Balancing and weighing a few swords in hand out of her own curiosity. The young woman blushed in embarrassment at being caught.

"I was just admiring the weapons, is all," she answered. "I've never come across such a craft."

"Because they were made by Dwarves, my dear," Balin answered.

"What would you know of weapons?" Thorin questioned. "I doubt the Shire would have such a thing, making swords and other dangerous things."

"There is one place, and I work there alongside my Master," Poppy stated. "Though he leaves the weapons to me since he's growing old."

The Dwarves seemed interested in this, watching the young woman. Poppy turned her attention back to the battle-ax in her grasp, running a hand over the iron.

"This material is tough and durable so it won't break or melt under hot temperatures, nor shatter if cold." She nodded her head towards the pile. "Fíli and Kíli's blades are light to make maneuvering easier, Kíli's bow crafted by a strong bark so it can withstand sword combat without being broken in one hit. And your weapon, Thorin, was made of a thick iron with a razor sharp edge to cut down your enemies. I can tell it's been in many battles from the nicks and scratches on the surface."