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Hunting Erebor	By : LadyLaran Category: Supernatural > Crossovers Views: 1898 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own "Supernatural" or "The Hobbit." I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
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Author’s Note – Well, here’s the next chapter. I was pleasantly surprised by the response to this; I wasn’t sure if people would like this kind of crossover. My mom doesn’t count because she enjoys pretty much anything with Supernatural in it lol.

We have a bit of a time skip here; the group from Supernatural have been in Arda about twenty years. Since Sam and Dean are now Dúnedain, they will have the same aging as Aragorn does. Our favorite Ranger lived until he was 210 so I can certainly get away with doing this!

Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” or “Supernatural,” and I don’t make money from this story either.

Chapter Two – Convincing the Hobbit

Imrathon and Eruestan were fairly quiet as they approached the borders of the Shire. They had just finished helping a dwarven caravan reach the Blue Mountains when they’d felt a nudge from Vairë to head to the home of the hobbits. Both suspected it the time for the quest for Erebor was approaching but even if they were a bit off on when it was going to happen, they didn’t mind spending time in the Shire.

Since coming to Arda nearly two decades ago, the brothers had felt a deeper kinship with the non-human occupants of this world and often spent time helping out when most of the Men of this world would turn the supplicants for aid away. They’d gotten to know certain dwarven clans fairly well, were respected by the elves, and had even gained a rapport with the reclusive hobbits. Eruestan had been adamant about it, reminding his brother of the books and had shared that having such a good reputation with those races would be crucial in the future. Imrathon didn’t mind too much since he respected the cranky exterior and loyalty the dwarrow showed each other and their rare friends, and he had a soft spot for the hobbits. Eruestan often teased his brother for being half hobbit due to his elder sibling’s love for food, which hadn’t disappeared since leaving Earth.

Living in Arda hadn’t been easy at the start for Imrathon and Eruestan. Both Urúvion and Eruadan had flourished rather quickly, finding a purpose once Gandalf had helped them to adjust, and now the pair were wandering around Arda. It was good to see they were happy, and the two former angels had become a bonded pair several years after arriving in this world.

For Imrathon and Eruestan, their reason for fighting through the adjustment period had been each other at the start before meeting their young cousin for the first time. Estel, as the tiny boy had been named by his elvish caretaker, had been the brothers’ source of light and joy. Anytime the brothers were in Imladris, the youngling was often found at their sides and they made sure to make time for their future chieftain.

Estel was the source of their sanity, and the two Dúnedain adored him for it. They pushed themselves in hopes of helping in certain future events so that their cousin’s future would not be as dark as it had been in the books and movies that had been so popular in their old world. The boy and a few others that the brothers knew they would meet were the motivation needed to push themselves to master as much as they could.

“How far ahead of Gandalf will we be,” Imrathon asked the other in English. They used their old language for privacy since only two others knew of it, and it was also a comfort having something from their old home.

“A few hours,” Eruestan told his older brother. “With luck, we’ll be able to talk to Bilbo about what’s going on and see if we can help him get ready before the Company arrives.”

“I don’t think anything will help prepare him for all of this,” the elder one shared, knowing the stories as well as his brother now since they often discussed them each night to try to keep the memory of what would happen secure in their minds.

“Probably not but at least he won’t be freaking out when the dwarves show up,” the younger one commented. “We can make sure he’s got what he needs to survive the journey. The problem will be convincing Gandalf and Thorin Oakenshield of why we need to tag along.”

“Thorin won’t be a problem if we toss Dis’s name into the conversation a few times along with his nephew’s names,” Imrathon said with a snicker. “That is one tough dwarrowdam.”

“No kidding,” his brother answered. “Knowing what we know of her and her relationship to the men of her family, reminding Thorin that extra hands to help protect his nephews will be a good thing,” he replied.

Both had met the formidable princess several years ago when they had helped fight off orcs that had attacked the party she’d been with, and the trio had hit it off rather well. Through her, they had met two more dwarves who would later become members of Thorin Oakenshield’s famous company. Dropping her name into the conversation with the future king of Erebor would help seal their place in the company.

Gandalf would be a headache that would take a bit of time to work with. Imrathon was all for leaving his curiosity unappeased, but he also knew just how stubborn the Istar could be. For Eruadan to call him stubborn meant that the term was undoubtedly the wrong word to use in regards to the wizard.

“As for Gandalf, I guess we can tell him to talk to Vairë, Irmo, or Varda about it and hope he’ll leave it alone afterwards,” Eruestan offered, making his brother snort and shake his head.

“We’re talking about someone Eruadan calls stubborn; we both know how hard headed he can be so it means something for him to use that word,” the elder brother commented. “No, we’ll roll with it and see how things go. As far as Bilbo is concerned, I think we could do one of two things: tell him we heard rumors of this quest and came to help or we can tell him that Irmo gave us a vision of what this quest is and the things that can go wrong.”

“The idea of Irmo giving us a vision might better explain how we know what we know,” Eruestan said quietly. “The problem is making sure we don’t give up too much information, especially to a certain wizard, but it might be enough to convince our little friend to go along with the journey.”

The brothers swapped back to Westron when they passed through the borders, noticing the signs of their kin who patrolled the boundaries of the peaceful country of the Shire. They had patrolled here a few times, getting to know certain hobbits and befriending a specific few families as well in order to help with the events that would need changing.

“Welcome, masters,” a hobbit called out.

Imrathon’s sharp green eyes caught sight of the equipment that the hobbit bore and politely responded back, reining his horse to a stop.

“Good morning, Master Bounder,” he greeted respectfully. “How goes the day?”

“Fairly well, sir, and you?”

“Pleased to say the same,” Eruestan said with a warm smile. “We are visiting a friend for a few days.”

The bounder smiled back, giving a nod as he did so. If there was one thing Imrathon loved about these people was the informality that mingled with the polite aspect of their society. Dwarves, elves, and men could be so rigid in formality in their behaviors, but the hobbits were delightful in their contradictions. To be honest, it made both rangers feel relaxed whenever their paths brought them into the Shire.

“Enjoy your visit, sirs,” the bounder said, giving them a wave. “My missus will have my boys take your horses out to graze in our pastures if you wish. Just watch out; it’s baking day, and she’ll be trying to feed you both up again.”

“Thank you, Master Grubb,” Imrathon said with a soft chuckle.

As they headed on to the Grubb’s farm to hand off their horses, Eruestan gave a low groan. He remembered the last time they’d come to the Shire and met Mrs. Violet Grubb on a baking day. They’d put away so much food they’d almost been sick, even Imrathon who had an appetite large enough to rival a hobbit’s most days.

“Good thing we’re on a schedule,” his brother commented. “Otherwise, Mrs. Grubb might try to fatten us up again.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” the taller brother admitted, then laughed as they reached the small farm and found Mrs. Grubb hanging up her laundry.

“Well, good morning to you! I’m happy to see two of my favorite rangers today,” the hobbit matron called out.

“Good morning, Mrs. Grubb,” Imrathon called out as he dismounted. “We saw your husband on his rounds when we came in. I was hoping we could board our horses here once again?”

“Of course, of course,” the woman answered, calling for her eldest son. “Do you have time for second breakfast?”

“I wish we did, but we have an appointment and don’t wish to be late,” Eruestan told her.

“Oh, I understand. Faldo, take these two horses to the pasture to graze,” she instructed her son while the two rangers removed their saddles and tack from the horses, placing them safely in the barn.

The brothers slung their bedrolls and packs over their shoulder, pressing a few coins into the woman’s hands to pay for the boarding of their mounts, and headed towards Bagshot Row in Hobbiton. They were quiet, watching the fauntlings play and occasionally greeting one of the older hobbits as they worked in their gardens.

“There he is,” Eruestan said, spotting a familiar head of copper touched blond curls sitting on a bench in a beautiful garden.

“Good morning, Bilbo,” Imrathon called.

The hobbit looked when he heard his name, smiling around the stem of his pipe before setting it aside to rise and greet the two.

“Good morning, Imrathon and Eruestan. It’s so good to see you. Please, come and sit down,” the Master of Bag End greeted, looking so very pleased to see the pair.

“As it is to see you,” the younger brother said, taking a seat on the man sized bench Bilbo’s mother had set in the gardens for her friends. Bilbo had kept the habit, enjoying the visits from the two rangers he’d met several years ago.

“How are you both?”

“Doing well,” the green eyed male said to his friend. “You look to be doing well yourself, Bilbo.”

“Just got back from a walking holiday, doing a bit of business for my uncle while I was out and about,” he said, taking a puff from his pipe. “What brings you to the Shire?”

“There’s something important we need to talk about, Bilbo,” the younger brother told him.

The hobbit snuffed out his pipe, rising to his feet. If it was important enough to bring his friends here, then he would give the matter all of the attention it deserved.

“Come inside, both of you. We’ll have some tea, and you can tell me what this is all about,” he ordered, heading up the steps to the large green door of his home.

Sharing a grin, the brothers rose and picked up their things, following the smaller male up the path and into the beautiful home that they’d often read about as children and adults. At his bidding, they set their packs in one of the man-sized rooms before heading into the kitchen to meet with their host.

Once Bilbo had tea and snacks ready for them, the hobbit settled himself into a chair at the kitchen table and took a sip of his warm drink.

“Now, what’s so important to cause my friends to look as worried as you do?”

Imrathon gave a nod to his brother, knowing he’d be able to present this properly. He had the better grounding in the books Tolkien had written and would be able to convince Bilbo of the truth.

“Imrathon and I were recently given a vision from Irmo,” he began, knowing his older sibling would be memorizing the story in case someone asked him to repeat the details. “In it, we were given books written by a guardian of Arda from another world. This guardian had written what he had seen during his time looking through the portal into this world and once we had seen what will happen, Irmo charged us with ensuring certain things would not come to pass.

“The first book had to do with an upcoming quest to Erebor to reclaim it from a dragon,” the younger ranger continued. “Gandalf will come to visit a hobbit, asking for him to join him on an adventure. The hobbit refuses but is inundated with a party of thirteen dwarrow. During their time in his smial, he agrees to help them in their attempt to regain their home.”

“I’m the hobbit the book in your vision spoke of, aren’t I,” the clever hobbit asked. “Why would I be needed?”

“Truth is,” Imrathon picked up. “Your family holds a place in Gandalf’s heart, and you help him in dark times. You see things differently because you are a hobbit and don’t place as much value in gold and gems. You are brave and kind, Bilbo, and the company needs that – especially now.”

“Why now?”

“When Erebor fell, the dwarrow of Erebor wandered for decades to find a place to settle,” Eruestan told him. “The population is slow to recover; food is difficult to come by, and they can’t earn enough to really buy what they need. The Blue Mountains are all right, but the mines aren’t rich enough to push them from surviving to prosperity.

“They need to go home, Bilbo, but in order to do so successfully, they need you.”

The hobbit was quiet, staring down into his tea as he did so. He was troubled by what his friends had told him, and his voice was soft when he broke his own silence.

“Am I truly needed?”

“Hobbits will change the course of all events to come,” Imrathon told him, paraphrasing the opening lines of the “Fellowship of the Ring” movie he’d enjoyed years ago. “With our help, we’ll make sure the tragedy in those books don’t happen.”

Bilbo looked up, an expression of determination in his blue eyes.

“I’ll do it then,” he said to them. “Mind you, you’ll have to make sure I don’t make a mess of things because I don’t want to see anything bad happening.”

“Trust us, Bilbo,” the older ranger replied. “We’re going to do everything we can to ensure the fates of those involved do not go as dark as the books Irmo showed us.”

The three of them smiled, finishing up their tea and making plans to prepare for the next day or two. The rangers just hoped they could continue to convince others. Fortunately, Bilbo was not just rational but also family oriented in many ways. The simple truthful approach would only go so far with one emotionally damaged dwarf and a too stubborn and curious wizard.

Author’s End Note – Just a reminder on the name changes: Dean – Imrathon, Sam – Eruestan, Castiel – Urúvion, and Gabriel – Eruadan. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter; please let me know what you thought of it. ~ Laran
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Hunting Erebor