The Undecided Title Of Sara Miller *Hobbit Fanfiction* (Thorin/OC)

Chapter 3: Home Invasion

"Sara Miller," she said, picking up the mixing bowl of cookie dough and inspecting it.

"What have ya got there?" he asked, interested. She tilted the bowl towards him.

"Cookie dough."

"Well don't let me stop ya from whatever ya we're about." He returned to eating, effectively ignoring her. Hesitantly she pulled a baking sheet out and began to shape the cookies. She looked in the oven unsure how to place the cookies inside. Giving it up until Bilbo returned she turned her attention back to the man behind her. "What's your name?" she asked, breaking the silence. He eyed her for a moment before standing.

"Dwalin," he said, bending slightly at the waist. "At your service."

"Thank you," she said, not quite sure what the correct response was. He raised an eyebrow but sat down all the same and resumed his meal. "Are you a hobbit then?" she asked, still uncomfortable with the silence. He coughed, choking on a bite of chicken, and gave her a look of surprise and indignation.

"No. I am a dwarf."

"Oh," she said, tugging on the gold chain around her neck. "Sorry." Thankfully Bilbo came bustling into the kitchen at that moment carrying a tankard of ale and set it down at Dwalin's elbow.

"I do hope the food is to your liking," said the hobbit. The dwarf just nodded. Bilbo opened his mouth to ask a question but Sara tugged on his sleeve pulling him to the side.

"How do you bake in one of these ovens," she whispered. "I have never used a wood-burning one."

"Do they not have them where you are from?" asked Bilbo quietly.

"No. Not many people have been these anymore." Dwalin watched them silently as he ate, the chicken and plate of biscuits half gone. Quickly Bilbo arranged the coals inside the oven again and slid the baking sheet in.

"Thanks," said Sara. There was a loud knocking on the front door once again. They stood there unmoving for a moment.

"That'll be the door," said Dwalin around a bite of chicken.

"Surely that must be Gandalf now," said Bilbo, leaving to answer the door. Sara once again dusted herself off determined to make as good an impression as possible. The doorknob rasped as Bilbo opened the door.

"Balin, at your service," said a voice, catching Dwalin's attention. He rose from the table and went to greet the newcomer. There were a few words spoken in a language unfamiliar to her and then a loud sickening thwack. Moments later Dwalin and another dwarf come into the kitchen followed by a rather confused and slightly flabbergasted Bilbo. This new dwarf looked to be older than Dwalin if his snow-white beard was anything to go by.

"Ms. Miller, this here is my brother Balin," said Dwalin.

"At your service Ms. Miller," said Balin, eyeing her cautiously as he bowed. Without ceremony the two sat at the table, Dwalin already eating again. Turning to Bilbo, Balin asked, "Do you have any more of that chicken laddie? It's been a long day of travel and ale would not be unwelcome either."

"Of... of course," stammered Bilbo, promptly turning to fetch more food. Sara began to cut out more cookies while listening to the two dwarves speak in a foreign language, their voices low. She could not help but suspect they were talking about her and Balin motined at her several times. Who were they? Bilbo didn't seem to know them, so why were they here? Bilbo returned from the direction of the pantry with another chicken for Balin, more biscuits, a crock of jam, and another ale.

"That's the ticket laddie," said Balin. "Thank you." Bilbo retreated to the corner and sat on a stool watching the two guests, looking quite uncomfortable. Sara couldn't blame him. Truthfully if someone had shown up on her doorstep out of the blue and asked to be fed, Sara was not sure she would have let them in, even if they claimed to be a friend of a friend. But then again it was thanks to Bilbo's unfailing hospitality that she was not turned out and lost on some road in Hobbiton.