The Band of Dwarves sat around the table at the dining room in Mr Baggins's  house. Even with Bilbo's never ending objections to Gandalf's talk, he refused to be the company's Burglar.

"Why should I help you all in the first place?" Asked Bilbo. " I'm absolutely sure that by the time we set foot in that mountain we would kick the bucket!"

"You would not," Replied Thorin. "Some of us have survived."

"Deep within the mountain itself, the beauty of that Dwarven city was legend," I acknowledged."Its wealth was beyond imaginable! Precious gems hewn from rock, great seams of gold running like rivers through stone. The craftsmen of Erebor had no equals, for with their hand they crafted beautiful things, goblets, necklaces, crowns, anything you could possibly think of!" 

A small smile formed on Gandalf's face as I explained passionately about everything I knew about it.

"Indeed, lady Ara, but neither gold nor silver could be worth the same value as the King's Jewel," Thorin proclaimed.

"The Arkenstone," I murmured, my eyes lighting up in excitement as I took a sip from my Teacup.

"My Grandfather Thror, took it as a sign that his right to rule was divine. All paid homage to him. Even the Elven King Thranduil."

Bilbo sat there in awe, agape at every word that Thorin uttered. " They envied us, framed and manipulated our kin, claiming that we stole from the Elves. Things eventually turned sour, and the watchful nights closed in. Thror's desire for Gold was ever so insatiable, and a sickness grew within him. T'was a sickness of the mind, and where sickness thrives, bad things start to follow. 

The memory of that day was an unhappy one. the very first thing we ever heard was the noise of a hurricane coming down from the North. The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in the hot, dry wind.

Smaug had come." 

A silence fell over the merry group, their faces dark and filled with sorrow.

"Dragons covet Gold with a dark and fierce desire. They plunder and guard their treasures for the entirety of their lives, which is practically forever. We were driven out of our crumbling city that was taken by the Firedrake from the North. We came to the Elves of Mirkwood, desperate for food, water, shelter, clothes and essentials. Desperate  for help. But Thranduil would not risk the lives of his kin against the wrath of the dragon. No help came from the Elves that day. Nor any day since.

Robbed of our homeland, we Dwarves of Erebor wandered the wilderness. The once mighty people brought low. We took work where he could find it, labouring in the villages of men as Blacksmiths, Toy makers and Tinklers. But I would never forget the  mountain smoking beneath the moon, the trees like torches blazing bright, where I had seen dragon fire in the sky, and a city turned to ash."

"We want to take back what once was ours, Master Baggins," Urged Balin."We need the help of a Burgular."

“We may be few in number, but we’re fighters, all of us, to the last dwarf!”Said Fili.

“And you forget, we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!" Exclaimed Kili proudly.

I let out a raucous laugh, spewing the tea I had been drinking.

“Oh, well, now, uh, I-I wouldn’t say that, I-,” Said Gandalf,  a bit embarrassed.

"How many then?" Asked Dori, ignoring the sound of me laughing hysterically in the background next to Kili.

"I think you should instead worry about Ara instead of asking me questions like-" Tried Gandalf.

“I don't necessarily have any worries about that queer little lass, enough about her! How many dragons have you killed? Go on, give us a number!”

Gandalf started to break into a fit of coughs as he blew his pipe, and Dori's face fell.

"You haven't???!!!" Shrieked Bofur.

"My point exactly, Master Dwarf," I chuckled, still gasping for air. 

Everyone lost it, and a cacophony of shouting and the voices of angered little Dwarves echoed in the house. Thorin punched his fist on the table and bellowed at us,

"Silence!"

And it was as if the world turned quiet at his command. "If we had read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumours have begun to spread. The Dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!"  

The Dwarves cheered in unison whilst I stood in the corner, arms crossed and a grin on my face.

So that was how a Leader leads.

"But you forget," Sighed Balin," That the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain."

"Not