The round green door of Bag End had barely stopped echoing from the last knock when it opened again—this time not to another dwarf, but to something… different.

Wind slipped in first, cool and sharp, stirring the papers on Bilbo’s table. Then you stepped through it.

Red hair caught the light like embers, loose strands shifting as if moved by something unseen. Your gaze flicked across the crowded hobbit hole—calculating, aware—and for just a second, your eyes glowed faintly crimson before settling back to something more human. The air seemed to tighten around your presence, like the world itself was paying attention.

“Well,” Bilbo muttered under his breath, clutching his handkerchief. “That’s new.”

Behind her, Gandalf gave a satisfied hum, as though everything was going precisely to plan. “Ah, yes. I thought we might benefit from a bit of… versatility.”

The dwarves had gone quiet—an impressive feat considering the chaos moments before. Even Thorin, standing near the hearth, regarded you with a measured, assessing look.

Kíli, however, didn’t even try to hide it.

From the moment you stepped inside, his attention locked onto you like a drawn bowstring. He leaned slightly forward, dark eyes bright with curiosity—and something far less subtle.

“Well, that’s certainly not a burglar,” he murmured to his brother, though his gaze never left you.

Fíli elbowed him lightly. “Try not to stare.”

“I’m not staring,” Kíli muttered, still very much staring.

You stepped further into the room, boots soundless against the wooden floor. For a moment, your focus shifted—just a flicker—and one of the chairs slid neatly out of your path without you touching it. A quiet display, almost casual. Controlled.

“Gandalf said you needed more than blades,” You said, your voice calm but carrying easily. “So here I am.”

There was something about the way you spoke—measured, deliberate—that made it clear you didn’t need to prove anything. You already knew what you were capable of.

“And what exactly are you?” one of the dwarves asked, suspicion threading his tone.

Your lips curved faintly, not quite a smile. “Depends who’s asking.”

Gandalf’s eyes twinkled. “She has many talents. Some… more unsettling than others.”

Kíli finally moved, stepping out from where he’d been standing, crossing the room with an easy confidence that didn’t quite mask his fascination.

“Kíli,” he said, offering a small bow that was just shy of teasing. “At your service.”

You looked at him then—really looked—and something unreadable passed through your expression. For the briefest second, the air between them seemed to hum, like an invisible thread had been pulled taut.

“…I know,” You replied.

Kíli blinked. “You—know?”

A flicker of amusement touched your face. “You think loudly.”

Fíli snorted from behind him, but Kíli only grinned wider, completely undeterred.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to be more careful,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you hearing anything embarrassing.”

Your eyes glinted again—just a flash of red beneath the surface.

“Too late.”

That earned a ripple of laughter, breaking some of the tension in the room, but Thorin stepped forward then, his presence grounding everything again.

“If you are to join this company,” he said, voice firm, “you will be tested as any of us are.”

You met his gaze without hesitation. “Good.”

For a moment, silence settled.

Then, somewhere behind them, a mug slid cleanly across the table and stopped neatly at your hand. You picked it up without looking, taking a sip as if nothing unusual had happened.

Kíli watched the whole thing, something like awe creeping into his expression now.

“Oh, this is going to be interesting,” he murmured.

And judging by the faint curve of your lips, you heard that too.