'I don't care what the hobbit says, I don't trust that thing one bit!'

'I know! She has been growling and snarling at me all evening!'

'Just ignore her. She is just trying to defend her territory.'

'That's easy for you to say, Dwalin! Have you seen the size of that thing!'

'And not to mention those teeth!'

Frêllian watched the group of dwarves as they ate. Well, if what they were doing could pass as eating. Honestly, even the wargs had better manners! It had been a long while since Frêllian had attended a feast in her true form, but at least she would know how to behave. And not clean the host's pantry of all the food.

'At least mister Baggings has trained her well,' one of the younger dwarfs said – the darker-haired brother. 'She was acting like a puppy when Fíli was rubbing her head!'

Ha, Bilbo having trained her? The small hobbit would not even be able to train a small dog! He lacked the dominance of an alpha and without it, no canine would ever obey him! No, her loyalty was based on mutual respect.

Her eyes travelled to the host of this – unexpected – feast. Bilbo was sulking as he watched one of the dwarves throw some food to the fattest dwarf. But as soon as the others began throwing food around, the hobbit walked away in disgust.

'Who wants an ale?' The blonde dwarf – Fíli it was? – said as he walked over the table.

Really? Why? Why would that be necessary? She flattened her ears and let out a low growl as he knocked aside the food in his way. A cup of ale fell over, almost spilling over her fur and she let out a warning bark. Then she stood up and left the room.

The whole evening they had feasted and spilled food and drink everywhere. And while Bilbo had at first tried to stop them, it had all been in vain. All Frêllian could do, was growl at the intruders, snapping at them whenever they got too close to her. But no biting. She would only do that when she needed to defend herself.

'Eackles (Jerks),' she muttered as she looked over her shoulder at the dwarves as they started burping loudly. 'Lüna, gêf mi crègt.' (Lüna *the moon*, give me strength)

'What was that dear?' Turning her head around, she looked at the wizard. An amused grin on his face as he looked at her. 'I thought you were quite fond of the idea of an adventure. But instead I find you here, insulting your guests.'

'Well, can you blame her?' Bilbo sneered before the ferian could answer. 'Have you seen what they- Hey, excuse me, that's a doily, not a dishcloth!'

With that, he pulled the doily from the hatted dwarf's hand, leaving him staring at it in surprise.

'But it's full of holes,' the dwarf stated, looking at the piece of cloth.

'It's supposed to look like that,' Bilbo argued. 'Its crochet.'

The dwarf – Bufor was his name, right? – make a comment about it being a wonderful game, confusing the young ferian. What did a doily have to do with a game? And what balls? Though to be honest, Frêllian didn't even fully understand what a doily was either. All she knew was that her friend is quite attached to it.

Bilbo muttered in frustration as the dwarf walked away, grabbing a chain of sausages another dwarf had hanging over his shoulder. With flattened ears, Frêllian watched the two dwarves play tug-of-warg with the sausages for a moment. But then she stalked over to them, claiming the meat for herself as the two dwarves backed away in fear.

'Really, Frey,' Bilbo scowled as the ferian wolfed down the sausages. 'Not you too. I thought you were more well-behaved that those dwarves.' Then he turned to the wizard in annoyance. 'There's mud trod into the carpet, they've pillaged the pantry! And I'm not even going to tell you what they've done in the bathroom; they've all but destroyed the plumbing. You brought them here and I don't even understand what they are doing in my house!'

A timid dwarf passed Frêllian by, throwing a cautious glance at her. But she ignored him. As long as he didn't bother her, she would leave him alone. So instead of growling at him, she continued eating the sausages, as the dwarf interrupts Gandalf and Bilbo.

'Here you go, girl.' Frêllian looked up, to see the blonde haired dwarf standing before her, a piece of meat in his hand. 'Don't you worry about what the others say. I know you're just one big, fluffy pup.' Then he turned to the dwarf that had interrupted Gandalf and Bilbo. 'Here you go, Ori. Give it to me.'

Taking the plate from the dwarf – Ori apparently – Fíli threw it to Kíli. Kíli threw it over to the dwarf that was standing at the sink. Without looking, he caught it behind his back and started washing it.

More plates were thrown into the air – followed by bowls and utensils – thrown from dwarf to dwarf, until landing in the sink. Frêllian watched bewildered, not even able to be angry as she ducked her head every now and then.

'Excuse me, that's my mother's West Farthing crockery! It's over a hundred years old!'

But the dwarves ignored Bilbo, as more plates were thrown. In the other room, Frêllian could hear rhythmically drumming and a scowling Bilbo about blunting something.

Moving out of the way of a dwarf, Frêllian walked over to the front door, finding that the safest place to be at the moment. While she had been really annoyed with the way these dwarves had marched in and clear out the pantry, this she could actually enjoy! Though at a safe distance, that was! She didn't fancy anyone stepping on her tail, or something like that.

'Ooh, d'hear that, lads,' a dwarf from the dining room said as the drumming continued. 'He says we'll blunt the knives.'

And with that, Kíli began to sing, as the others join him. Still continuing their drumming and throwing of the dishes.

'That's what Bilbo Baggings hates!'

But Frêllian didn't hear the ending of the song and the laughter that followed. Instead, her attention was turned to some movement outside. Heavy footsteps stopped in front of the door. Sniffing the air in curiosity, Frêllian found the scent familiar yet strange at the same time. Definitely a dwarf, for no hobbit walked with such heavy steps. And the familiar scent probably ment he was related to one of the dwarves.

After a moment or two, there were three loud knocks on the door, causing everyone to fall silent.

'He's here,' she heard Gandalf say quietly as Bilbo moved towards the door.

As the door opened, Frêllian watched the newcomer in awe. Never before had she seen anyone like this dwarf. His whole demeanor regal, demanding respect by just standing there. Still, the silvery strands in his hair betrayed a harsh life, as did his stoic face as he entered Bag End.

'Gandalf,' he addressed the wizard in a deep voice. 'I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn't have found it at all, had it not been for that mark on the door.'

The newcomer smiled kindly at Fíli and Kíli, as the two enter the hall, while an insulted Bilbo disagreed about a mark on his door. It had been painted just a week ago. But Gandalf waved it off, stating he had put a mark on the door himself. Then he introduced the newcomer – and leader of the company – as Thorin Oakenshield.

'So, this is the hobbit,' Thorin said unimpressed, inspecting Bilbo. 'Tell me, mister Baggings, have you done much fighting?'

'Pardon me?'

A confused Bilbo quickly glanced over at Frêllian, as the ferian tried to stay in the background. Most of the dwarves hadn't been overly excited about seeing her and she had a feeling this dwarf wouldn't be happy either.

'Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?'

But before Bilbo could answer Thorin, the dwarf had spotted something in the background and his eyes darken. A scowl formed on his face as he pointed at Frêllian, while addressing Gandalf.

'What is that beast doing here,' he demanded, stalking over to Frêllian with his sword in hand.

'I assure you, she is on our side,' Gandalf answered cautiously. 'She is a friend of Bilbo.'

'Ferien don't have friends, other than orcs and wargs. They are traitors!'

'That's a ferian? Aren't they suppose to be much larger?'

Ignoring the questions of the blonde dwarf, Thorin was now towering over a scared Frêllian. The ferian herself was trying to make herself as small as possible, her tail between her feet. She meant no harm, she never did! Still this dwarf was so set on the mistakes her pack made, she didn't even know what to do to change his mind. As she backed away from the advancing dwarf – still trying to remain as low to the ground as possible – she bumped into a wall.

'Please, don't hurt Frêllian,' she heard Bilbo squeak. 'Please!'

The moment Thorin had heard Bilbo say her name, his eyes shifted over to the tall bald dwarf, for just a moment. A movement Frêllian did not miss, yet she remained silent

'The hobbit clearly doesn't know his friend from foe,' Thorin growled darkly as he readied his sword. 'But I do! And I will make sure no traitor will ever come near me again!'

Suddenly Frêllian rose, her ears flat and her teeth bare. Rounded in a corner, she let the wolf inside loose. She had tried to avoid a fight, but if this dwarf wanted a fight, he would get one! An alpha never gave in without a fight!

'And what foe do you mean, Oakenshield,' she asked as she snarled at him, causing some confused dwarves to whisper loudly. 'Me? I have lived with him for months, never doing him any harm. While I could have eaten him a long time ago. Or you? The dwarf marching into his home, a sword in his hand?'

'Why you filthy little…'

'Enough!' Frêllian glared at the interrupter, as did Thorin. Neither of the two backing away as Dwalin positioned himself in between the two. 'There is no need for bloodshed, Thorin,' he said, giving Thorin a stern look, before turning to Frêllian . 'Nor is there the need to provoke one another.'

'Looks to me like the dwarf can't fend for himself,' Frêllian spat as she continued snarling at the dwarf behind Dwalin. 'No wonder you're an exile king.'

'I said enough!'

'And you think you can command me, because…? I may not have a pack anymore, but I am still a true-born alpha.'

But still she obeyed, sitting down. For Bilbo. She could smell the fear on her small friend, probably because he had never seen her like this before. Though she backed away towards her friend, her yellow eyes remain trained on the tall, dark haired dwarf.

After Thorin had his dinner, the dwarves had settled down at the dining table again, joined by Gandalf and Bilbo. And Frêllian laying in a corner. While Gandalf had insisted she should be present at this meeting – with both Thorin and Frêllian protesting – the ferian had decided she wouldn't sit at the table.

The dwarves had talked about some matters about reclaiming the Lonely Mountain and whether or not the dwarves from the Iron Hills would join them. Which they didn't. But what had concerned Bilbo the most, had been the mentioning of a beast. A fire drake from the north, who had claimed the gold inside of the mountain as his. And the mentioning of that beast had caused an embarrassing moment for the wizard when the dwarves had asked him of the number of dragons he had slain.

In the end, Gandalf had given Thorin a key, stating there was another way in, but they would need a burglar – Bilbo. But that Frêllian would be of use as well, with her sharp nose and keen hearing.

But after Bilbo had started reading through the contract, he came across some frightening words. And Bofur jesting the poor hobbit, didn't really help either. Even though Bilbo had tried to recompose him, he had ended up fainting.

Frêllian glanced over at the said hobbit as he was sitting on his chair, holding a mug in his hand. He had been sitting like that for quite some time now, not saying a word, just staring ahead. But when Gandalf made his way over to him, he finally spoke, only not what the wizard – nor the ferian – had hoped for. And after a long discussion, Bilbo stood up.

'Sorry, Gandalf,' he said, ending the discussion. 'But I can't sign this. You've got the wrong hobbit.'

Frêllian watched in sadness as Bilbo passed her by, placing a apologetic pet on her head while doing so. Then she looked at Gandalf.

'So, there is no changing his mind then?'

Gandalf shook his head.

'I'm afraid not, my dear,' he answered. 'Only Bilbo himself can change his mind. All we have to do, is have faith in him.'

In the hallway Thorin, Balin and Dwalin watched as the hobbit passed them by as well, retreating to his bedchamber.

'It appears we have lost our burglar,' Balin stated as he turned his attention to the two other dwarves. 'Probably for the best. The odds were always against us.'

'I have to disagree with you on that, brother,' Dwalin disagreed, glancing down the hall where the hobbit had come from. 'The ferian hasn't declined the offer-'

'-Nor do we need her,' Thorin interrupted. 'She is a runt. Have you seen how small she is for a ferian of age? Besides, she will betray us anyway. Ferien can't be trusted.'

'She isn't a runt, Thorin,' Dwalin said, his voice betraying the annoyance he felt. 'She is just not a pure ferian.'

'What are you saying, Dwalin,' Balin wanted to know, as he too tried to take a glance of the said ferian. 'Are you saying she is-'

'-No matter who or what she is, Dwalin, the traitorous blood of the ferien runs trough her veins.'

Dwalin glared at Thorin as the dwarf stood before him, his arms crossed over his chest. Thorin knew exactly who Frêllian was. Dwalin had seen it when he had first heard her name. And while Thorin had denied it - stating there were probably a lot more ferien with the same name – he had a look of surprise in his eyes for a moment. But his anger clouded the truth before him.

'She wasn't a traitor, Thorin,' Dwalin said, clenching his fists. 'She left, because she had to!'

'Indeed, she left, Dwalin. Just like you could expect from a ferian. They are not to be trusted.'

'Cànna was,' but Dwalin quickly stopped after hearing some movement.

'Oh, please, don't stop your sentence because of me,' the mocking voice of Frêllian was heard as she sat down in the hallway. 'Please tell me what my mother was and perhaps I can show you how traitorous ferien are.' Then she turned her head to Thorin. 'Or have you forgotten who stood by your side during the battle of Azanulbizar.'

'Cànna is indeed your mother then,' Balin asked, his voice softer than the last time he had spoken to her. 'I am sorry, we have misjudged you. It's just, you see, we just have a bad history with your former pack.'

Ignoring the white haired dwarf, Frêllian continued to look at the bald dwarf. He had said her mother's name. How would he know her name, unless these were the dwarves her mother had lived with once.

'Well, go on,' she growled. 'What were you going to say about my mother?'

There was doubt in his eyes, and she could smell the fear. Why wouldn't he fear her? She was a powerful warrior, even in this form. She could rip his throat open if she wanted to, and the other two wouldn't even be able to stop her. Even if she was just a half-breed.

But she wouldn't. She wouldn't turn into a ruthless monster, not even if these dwarves pushed her to her limit. Though that didn't mean she didn't enjoy scaring them a bit. So she continued to stare at him with her deep yellow eyes, until he finally spoke. But not before swallowing thickly.

'Your mother was a wonderful woman back in the day. I do hope she hasn't changed that much since the last time I have seen her.'

'My mother is no longer amongst the living. She died, because she choose to love one of your people over her own.'

And with that said, the ferian walked away, her tail swishing horizontally in anger.

The next morning, Frêllian watched as the dwarves prepared to leave. Good riddance, though she felt slightly disappointed. Deep inside she knew she wanted to join their quest. To have that adventure she had been longing for. And also to be amongst the dwarves again, like she had been all those years ago.

But then again, to join these dwarves would be suicide. Azog wanted the head of their leader, Thorin Oakenshield. And he wanted her as well, though he wanted her alive for some reason. If she had joined them, she would lead them straight into danger. And while she couldn't care less about their leader, nor those two brothers Balin and Dwalin, those younger two brothers seemed nice enough. And she wouldn't want to be responsible for their death.

'Are you sure you don't want to join us, my dear?' Gandalf asked as he turned to face her. 'I thought you were looking for an adventure.'

'I am,' she admitted, sitting at the damped grass. 'But I'm not leaving Bilbo. He took me in, when I escaped my pack.'

Gandalf nodded in understanding. But before he left, he glanced her way one more time, informing her they were heading to the Prancing Pony first. Then he followed the rest and the ferian watched them as they turning into small spots in the distance. And even then, she remained where she was, doubt filling her heart with every passing minute.

By the time she entered Bag End again, Bilbo was walking around. Calling and searching, probably expecting to run into the dwarves. But he wouldn't find them here anymore. No dwarves, no wizard. Just one hobbit and one ferian. Though the dwarves did clean up the house quite nicely.

'Hello?' he called one last time, before spotting Frêllian in the opening of the door.

'They have left early this morning,' she informed him as she walked towards the hobbit.

They stared at each other for a moment, a look of doubt in their eyes. Then Bilbo spotted something on the table. The contract! Picking it up, he looked at it for a moment. Then he looked at Frêllian again, looking determent.

'Can you track them down?' Bilbo asked as he ran after the ferian.

'The question is, my dear little rabbit, can you keep up with me?'

Sniffing the ground for a moment, Frêllian followed the trail, making sure not to run towards them at full speed. Bilbo wouldn't be able to keep up with her otherwise. They were gaining in on them! She glanced over he shoulder, watching as Bilbo struggled to keep up with her. Then she threw her head in her neck and let out a loud howl in excitement.

By Lüna, that felt good! She hadn't done that since her first shift, but, wow!

By now, she could hear the dwarves talking and the horses neighing. She howled again and the talking turned into worried whispers for a moment, until…

'Wait! Wait!'