Chapter 3: Into The Mountains

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I was mesmerized by the beauty of the valley. After leaving the round room I just wandered about, admiring elven craftsmanship. I met Bilbo on the way and we decided to go sightseeing together.

“Is that true, that you’re a queen?” He asked, when we were looking at the painting on which someone called Sauron was being defeated by some old king.

“Please don’t tell me that everyone already knows…” I said with a groan.

“No, no.” He ensured me. “Only me. I’ve heard you talking to Lord Elrond and Gandalf at dinner”

“Well… yes, that’s true.” I answered. “But don’t tell the dwarves. I am to travel with you from now on, and I don’t want them to treat me in a special way.” Or hate me because of it, I thought.

“I won’t tell them, don’t worry.” He assured me. We stood for a few minutes in silence. Finally the hobbit spoke again. “You don’t seem to be, you know.”

“Pardon?” I said surprised.

“A queen, I mean. You had this big dress and all, but…”

“I don’t behave like one?” I asked, knowing perfectly well what he meant. I was not born royal, not even noble. Just some daughter of a merchant family, who went bankrupt not long after I came to the world. My parents died when I was four and a witch adopted me, seeing my talent for flying as a promising trait. It quickly became apparent, that I did not have any other abilities and she lost all interest in me. I was still fed, and allowed to stay under her roof, but treated more like a pest, than a child. When I turned sixteen I ran away from home and started traveling the world. I did different works and finally, at the age of twenty was able to buy myself a little cottage. It wasn’t much, but at least I had a place to go back to. That was until one stormy night a lightning struck and everything burned down almost immediately. I was lucky to be in the nearest town at that moment, otherwise I would have been dead by now.
”Yes.” He admitted.

“Well, I was not born a princess. I just found something I shouldn’t have, and was announced the ruler of the kingdom. No one asked my opinion.”

“That’s terrible.” Said Bilbo with sympathy. “To be forced like that.”

“Yes, I wasn’t exactly happy about that either.” I sighed. “All right then. Enough about me. What’s your story? You’re clearly not a warrior, so why do you travel with those dwarves?”

The hobbit told me about his encounter with Gandalf back in the Shire, and how he decided to help Thorin to reclaim his kingdom. He also spoke of their adventures so far, and why the orcs were chasing them. I was listening, fascinated, like to one of storyteller’s fairy tales. I could not believe how wonderful this world was. So many lands, races, secrets, legends, magic and even dragons! Where I came from we had only fairies, witches and wizards, and the first ones did not show their faces too often.

“Oh, I wish I could visit that Shire of yours.” I exclaimed, excited. “It sounds like home. Peaceful and friendly.”

“It is.” Bilbo agreed. “And of course, you’re very welcome to visit any time you wish. When I’m home, that is.” He corrected himself, and I smiled at him with affection. He was such a sweet little man, and I felt warm and at peace sitting on a balcony with him, and watching the moon.

“You must miss your home.” He said suddenly. “I miss mine.”

I didn’t have time to answer, because one of the dwarves came, and called Bilbo to eat with them. The hobbit wanted me to come as well, but I refused. I was tired and sleepy already, and since we were going to set out on a journey again tomorrow, I decided it would be best if I slept for a few hours and regained my strength.

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