Thirteen dwarves and a wizard sat grouped around a table studying an old map. A small hobbit fluttered around behind them, peering over their shoulders. As they discussed the journey they were about to take, suddenly someone knocked on the front door.

Someone knocked on the door. They knocked lightly, three or four times, and then waited silently for the door to be opened. Inside the hobbit hole, Thorin Oakenshield turned to Gandalf.

"Who is that?" He asked, his tone accusatory.

"Our fifteenth member." Gandalf answered calmly.

"Our fifteenth member?"

"Yes. The advantages presented by working with this person are numerous – in fact, it will be impossible to kill Smaug without them. So I suggest you keep a civil tongue in your head, Thorin! Bilbo, the door."

Bilbo opened it hesitantly, all the dwarves crowding around to see who this person was. To their vast surprise – and Thorin's anger – the person before them was a young woman.

She appeared to be human, though she was taller than a human woman would normally be. Her long red hair reached to the middle of her back and was pulled away from her face in a half-ponytail. Her green eyes moved slowly and surely over the group in front of her, and they got the uncomfortable feeling that she was assessing each one of them, seeing their every fault and weakness. The strangest thing about her, however, was her clothes.

She was wearing men's breeches! Simply scandalous – no respectable woman would be caught dead in such attire. Along with the breeches she wore tall brown leather boots, a brown leather tunic, and brown leather vambraces. A sword hung at her right hip (the sword is supposed to be worn on the left side so that it can be easily drawn) a quiver of arrows at her left, and a bow was strapped to her shoulder, just above a small leather pack.

Apparently she liked leather.

As she entered the hobbit hole, bending down to fit through the doorway, they saw that she also carried a number of small knives – one in each vambrace, several on her belt, several strapped to her pack, one strapped to her left thigh and one in each of her boots. She was very well armed, even better than the dwarves were.

Although her breeches were the strangest thing about her, they weren't the thing that caught and held the attention of the occupants of the entryway. From a chain about her neck hung a pendant. It was a large fiery-red dragon, breathing flames. Its wings were extended and its feet pulled close to its body as though it was in mid-flight. The tail was long and curved, with intricate markings along its length – in no particular pattern, it seemed. Everyone except Gandalf stared at it for a long moment, before she moved again.

Stepping forward wordlessly, the woman placed her hand over her heart and then held it out – palm forward – to Gandalf. He repeated the gesture. She nodded, and pulled a red envelope from her belt, handing it to the wizard. The others saw it as she gave it to Gandalf. On the back was some sort of seal, while on the front was a red lion, roaring.

Gandalf opened it, and scanned the contents. Looking up, he smiled.

"Thank you for coming, Lady Alana. Your presence is a great honor."

The woman laughed lightly. "An honor, Gandalf? You flatter me. I am not like the one you would have me destroy – there is no need for riddling speech and a silver tongue."

"Surely it is not flattery to claim the honor of the presence of one of the Amator in our little gathering?"

"There is nothing in Amator worthy of great honor, Gandalf. We are no different from anyone else, save in our physical form."

Gandalf bowed his head, but it was clear he disagreed. Changing the subject, he asked, "Would you care for some supper, Alana?"

"If there is any to be had." She said with a smile. "I have not eaten in weeks."

"Certainly there is some to be had." The wizard turned to the hobbit, who looked like he would pass out just from the idea of not eating for so long. "Bilbo, have you forgotten your manners? There is plenty of bread and cheese left, and stew. And bring a cup of plain water – no strong drink, just water."

"Right, of course." Bilbo scurried off.

Alana laughed again. It was a soft, gentle, merry sound. "You know my people well, Gandalf. But I shall not need my drink for some time yet, and I would not use it sooner than I have to, lest I run out on the journey. You know as well as I the trouble that should cause."

"I trust you have enough to see the journey through?"

"I should. If I run low, I will simply have to disappear for a day and replenish my stock. Perhaps also I may get some more if we pass by Rivendell. The elves would not approve, of course, but Elrond would understand."

Gandalf led her to the dining-room, where he moved the map off the table. Bilbo ran in with a bowl of stew, and a plate of bread and cheese. A moment later he added a cup of water.

The dwarves all watched in silence as she ate, while Gandalf conversed with her as if they were old friends. When she had finished, she quickly drained the water from her cup and stood.

"Are there any new developments, Gandalf? Anything I should know?"

"None."

"Good. Then, if you don't mind..."

"Of course. Take as long as you wish."

"Thank you. I shall be back before morning, don't wait up."

She slipped to the door.

"Where are you going?" Thorin asked darkly, the first dwarf to speak since she had arrived.

Alana turned and looked at him. After a moment she replied, "Gandalf knows. That should be sufficient. Good evening to you, Thorin Oakenshield." With that, she was out the door.

They all watched as she walked out the gate. Once she had latched it, she paused, and then began to run. She had only run a few steps, however, before she leapt up into the air and... vanished. They heard a faint swish, felt a soft breeze, and then there was nothing. Thorin turned to Gandalf angrily.

"That is your fifteenth member?"

"Yes."

"She is a woman!"

"I am aware of the fact that she is a woman, Thorin."

"A woman with no idea how to fend for herself, how to fight... She will be nothing but a burden!" Thorin yelled.

"No idea how to fend for herself? No idea how to fight? A burden... Thorin, you do not know what you say. She is of the Amator!"

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Thorin asked roughly. "I speak based on what I see Gandalf. She doesn't even wear her sword on the correct side – what are the chances that she knows how to use it!"

"No, I suppose it wouldn't mean anything to you." Gandalf murmured softly, ignoring for the moment the crack about her sword and fighting skills. "Your grandfather would have known, but you are too young. Her kind have not walked this realm for an age. Not since the great worms of the North were young and strong."

He raised his voice slightly. "Few knew them by the name Amator, even then. Most called them the Nuada – what do you make of that?"

"Nothing. I know not the meaning of the word." Thorin growled.

"Then I will tell you. Nuada means protector. The Amator – that is what I call them, for it is their proper name – are the protectors of whatever realm they find themselves in. They are enemies of all things evil and guardians of all good. They especially hate dragons, and on the worms they make constant war. I have never heard of a dragon being slain – save by one of the Amator.

"When the worms of the North died out, the Amator left. They travelled to lands where dragons still live, that they may continue to fight the beasts until the very last dragon is dead. Smaug came after they had gone, and no one knows where he came from. One thing is certain, he was not in the North at the same time as the Amator, else either he would be dead or they would not be gone. You have no hope – none at all, Thorin – of killing Smaug without her help." Gandalf lectured sternly.

"I expect you all to treat her with the utmost respect. She has travelled a great distance to help you, and gone through a lot of trouble just to get here tonight. Her king, who graciously allowed her to come, requested that I see to it she is treated well. She is his personal guard and the guardian of his lands, as well as his close friend whom he views as a sister." The wizard paused a moment and then added, "And as for her sword... All Amator are left-handed, Thorin."

Thorin just grunted, and they all returned to the hobbit hole to continue with their plans.