"That is enough!" The wizard's voice boomed louder with each word, punctuated with ever darkening grey clouds that churned and rolled over the ceiling, eating light as they spread.

The angry and indignant shouts of the dwarves stopped immediately and they all froze, staring slack-jawed at Gandalf.

Authwen however, was still crouched over the very still form of a large dwarf, knife still dug in to his cheek. Though she did stop choking him.

And people think I'm not pleasant.

The dwarf's eyes never left hers, but for a brief and fleeting moment to locate his King. She smiled at him again, while the others were distracted, and flipped the knife up and under her sleeve. With a short but heavy handed pat on his cheek, the woman stood, hunched up as she was because of the short ceiling, and calmly and silently walked across and off the table to stand beside the wizard while he continued to brew his temper tantrum.

She spied the hobbit hunkered down and trembling at the happenings, hiding behind the grey tower that was Gandalf.

The woman slowly reached out to him but stopped as the halfling tensed, eyes round and bright as he stared at her hand as if it would bite him. She retracted her hand, tucking into the crook of her elbow and turned back to the gaggle of dwarves.

"Oi! What just happened?!"

"She attacked Dwalin!"

"Bad luck having a woman here in the first place!"

"She's tossed in the head!"

The woman in question merely stood there, arms crossed and head slightly canted and watched as Gandalf came back down from his anger as the dwarves exploded, speaking and yelling all at once. Again.

"They're a rowdy bunch, aren't they?" She was met with a dark look and a hushed order to stay quiet. It was apparent that the old man's patience was running thin.

"Authwen and her place amongst you on this quest has never been subject to negotiation. She will be a permanent fixture. And-" he added a stern look to the tall bald dwarf that was currently being helped off the table and into his seat, "I gather you are done attempting to assess her skills?" Everyone in that tiny home knew there hadn't been a 'test' but for appearances sake, no one spoke otherwise. Many of them squirmed about and mumbled but they all looked to their leader for confirmation.

Who, in question, had not moved. He was still seated, elbows resting on the table and hands clasped tightly, the skin white around his knuckles. The fire she saw earlier was still there, raging and flickering behind light blue.

As it should be.

She threatened one of his men, disrespected his station, and she did it all while smiling. He didn't like change, she could tell that much, but especially when he had no control. She knew he had hand-picked each and every dwarf present, relying only on someone else when he had no other choice, as was the case for the hobbit. A man, or dwarf, such as him, carried pride around like a second skin. It draped over him, soothed him, and in the stillness of the night, it held him to its breast and whispered sweet nothings - raising him onto this pedestal of self-proclaimed visage that no one thought to contest. It nearly drenched every passing word that tumbled from his lips. She knew he was angry, furious even, but now with Gandalf's word, there was nothing he could do.

The time is coming, Thorin Oakenshield, when your pride will crumble to dust like bones in my hands.

"Have I missed much?" Her voice was merely a whisper but still the wizard heard.

"Nothing worth repeating." She nodded in reply and decided not to press the issue. The company seated around the table were now conversing lowly, hands flying through the air to punctuate their words. Authwen took this opportunity to sink back into the darkness of the alcove, letting it wrap around her and blur her into shadow.

"This is all well and good, but you forget. The front gate is sealed; there is no way into the mountain." The oldest dwarf, she assumed due to his wrinkled face and snowy-white hair, spoke up at last, silencing the surrounding conversation.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true." With a short wave of his fingers, Gandalf held up a key, to the astonishment of the dwarves.

Did they truly believe the wizard would gather them here without cause?

"How came you by this?" The awe that soaked Thorin's voice was reflected in the faces of those around him.

"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now." With his long reach, Gandalf passed the old and worn key to the King, the wonder still etched into his face, eyes wide and disbelieving, though he held the proof in his hand.

"If there is a key, there must be a door!" Life seemed to breathe back into them, they sat taller, straighter, as hope fortified them once again.

"Indeed Fili, these runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls." A map, yellowed and stiff, had been pushed to the far corner but was now brought back out as Gandalf spoke, the end of his finger directing their gazes to the inscription.

"There's another way in!" A dark haired dwarf exclaimed.

"You cannot believe it will be that simple." Her statement was light, her tone however, was flat. Her upper lip curled into a sneer, teeth and challenge bared. "If it were, do you not think your Mountain would have been reclaimed long ago?" Her eyes shifted over, "your father had the key, after all."

She watched with no small amount of satisfaction as his face clouded over. Heavy brows pulled together as a matching snarl appeared, a vein pounding near his temple. A short hiss, that of air escaping through clenched teeth, came from the wizard as he stepped in front her, blocking Thorin from her view.

"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed," he consoled. She could not see what was happening but the resounding sigh meant that Thorin's attention had been diverted. She huffed out a laugh but covered it with a small cough as she caught the molten look that was thrown over the wizard's shoulder. "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!" One dwarf shouted out, plainly proud of himself for coming to that conclusion. She tapped Gandalf on his side, a universal sign for 'please move' and was pleased when he actually did it. Though she was only half visible. Clearly he was worried she would do something rash.

"Hm, a good one, too. An expert, I'd imagine." Bilbo, now without the wizard shielding him, was brought back into conversation.

"And are you?" Another dwarf asked.

"Am I what?" Bilbo's faced screwed up in confusion, trying to follow the train of thought the dwarves were on.

"He said he's an expert! Hey hey!" Laughter followed as another one joined in.

"M -Me? No, no, no, no, no. I'm not a burglar; I've never stolen a thing in my life." Bilbo stated.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He's hardly burglar material." Balin inclined his head toward the hobbit as Bilbo nodded his head in agreement.

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves." The bald one, the one that had made a grievous mistake toward her earlier, spoke up.

A tingling erupted on her skin, the fine blonde hair standing on end. The air in front of her face thickened and she took a small step back, and eager grin gracing her lips as she anticipated what the next few moments would bring.

"Silence!" There were no billowing clouds this time, Gandalf's patience had apparently, finally, run out. His form extended, his aura exploded and nearly blew each dwarf into the backs of their chairs. The flames from the candles dimmed and writhed as they shrunk, pressed upon by an unseen force. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!"

The air was violently and swiftly sucked from the room, taking the breath of the occupants with it. Authwen was ready for that outcome and had held hers, exhaling when the force was taken back into the wizard. The dwarves, and unfortunately Bilbo, were not so lucky. They hacked and grasped at their chests as they struggled to inhale in short, sharp pants. Gandalf, choosing to pretend the scene in front of him was not happening, trudged on, albeit significantly calmer.

"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." Now, somewhat breathing regularly, the dwarves stared at him with a slightly more wary gaze.

"Very well," Thorin's voice rang low through the room, clearly unhappy with the outcome while recognizing he didn't not have a choice. "We will do it your way."

She didn't even need to look to know that the hobbit was already shaking his head.

"No, no, no." She leaned over and peeked. He was indeed shaking it. Vehemently.

"Give him the contract."

"Please." Bilbo half pleaded. He should know by now that dwarves hardly listen to anyone but themselves.

"Alright, we're off!" A new dwarf shouted out.

A contract was placed into Bilbo's hands and his eyes widened with each paragraph.

"It's just the usual summary of out of pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth." Balin's balanced and soft voice did nothing to help cushion the words he was saying. The hobbit looked up, pale.

"Funeral arrangements?" His face clearly hoped this was all a joke. "Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth 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?"

Ah, it seems I did indeed miss the conversation about the dragon.

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye." This came out of nowhere from another one of the dwarves. His eyes gleamed with mischief and she had an inkling of what he was doing. Poor Bilbo.

"Huh." The hobbit was breathing a bit irregular and she watched from behind as Gandalf finally took notice.

"You all right, laddie?" Balin spoke up, a twinge of concern layered in. Bilbo was bent over and she couldn't help but notice a certain... sheen to his skin.

"Uh, yeah... Feel a bit faint."

"Think furnace with wings."

"Air, I -I -I need air."

"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash." Everyone was staring at Bilbo now as he breathed heavily, trying to calm himself despite the lovely imagery from the dwarf.

"Hmm. Nope." She caught him before he touched the floor. The hobbit's head lolled against her shoulder and she smoothly switched her grip, her left and right arm under his knees and back, respectively. She rose up, Bilbo cradled to her chest as she turned away from the surprised looks and made her way down the pitch black hallway.

"...Very helpful, Bofur."