"-bled dry by this venture! Naught but misery and grief-"

"You don't need to offer me your gold, Master Dwarf."

The surprised Gloin paused in his rant, as did the dwarves compiling a stack of coins to offer you in return for guidance through Mirkwood. Your adoptive father, Beorn, raised an eyebrow at you, but you waved off his disapproval. Leaning forward, you placed your elbows on the table and clasped your hands before you, a light appearing in your eyes.

"Your noble Company has been through much already, from the tales you've told my father and I this eve. If I accompany you on this next length of your journey, would you, perhaps, consider allowing me to remain with you until the end of your quest, whether or not you see grand victory or a heroic demise?"

All eyes went to the leader of the group. Gandalf had warned you of Thorin Oakenshield's distrust of strangers, but at least you weren't an elf. The dwarven king hesitated for a long moment. You could hear the fire crackling in the hearth, the shuffling of a nervous pair of feet- the hobbit Bilbo Baggins'.

"As long as you do not consider yourself one of us."

A smile spread across your face and you offered Oakenshield a bow at his begrudging agreement.

"Fair enough."