Hello everyone, here I am.

After months of procrastinating, finally I decided to write this fic.

First of all, thank you for being there, reading this fic, I appreciate this, I really do! So don't be shy and leave a review if you want, I swear I don't bite!

Second, this is a Multichapter Fic (yes with a capital M, because it's the first time ever I write a thing longer than a chapter), it will be updated as regularly as I can.

Thirdly, English is not my first language. I was sadly born in Italy, so it is possible that there'll be some errors, feel free to point them out (please, do it!)

Fourthly (it's even a word?!), enjoy this!

The sun was shining over Erebor the day Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, decided to exit his mountain and take a look at the Market .

It was, as always, an incredible mess, with Men, Dwarves and Elves going around, talking to each others, bargaining over the price of the various goods on sale or simply looking through the various stands that occupied the main road.

Like every time he left his Mountain, he was followed by his loyal guard and long-suffering friend Dwalin, who scoffed at sight of an Elf shouting to a Dwarf for the apparently too-high price of a lovely set of earrings.

"Ye though by now they knew no Dwarf'd lower his price for a sissy Elf" grumbled the guard under his breath.

"They never really learn, right?" answered Thorin glancing around and noticing a near stand full of exotic fruit and vegetables.

The owner of the little shop, a middle-aged Man, bowed deeply as soon as the King got closer to the stand,smiled warmly at the Ruler under the Mountain and started showing off his products with such an enthusiasm that he almost made a strange looking yellow cucumber tumble to the ground several times.

About half a minute after the last near-fall of said cucumber, a loud commotion came from a near corner and attracted the attention of several people, Thorin and Dwalin included.

"'t must be that damn thief again!" roared the guard, charging towards the origin of such turmoil without a second thought, leaving the other Dwarf trailing after him at a more sedated pace.

"What do ye think ye're doing, lad?!" the loud shout coming from the corner made Thorin go faster in order to reach his clearly irritated guard.

"If that thief has stolen again from the same stand, Dwalin is going to have a coronary for the stress" mumbled the Dwarf under his breath turning around the corner and stopping abruptly at the sight before him.

The Dwarf who owned the stand had grabbed the arm of the supposed thief, who was yelling and trashing into the Dwarf's grasp wildly, trying in vain to get free from the much bigger hands holding him tightly.

But despite Thorin's first assumption, the thief was not the usual thin and lanky Dwarf who had been going around stealing for months now and who had put Dwalin and his men on edge because of his sneakiness and stealth.

No, in front of him was a tiny young Hobbit, nothing more than a child, with wild black curls and teary blue eyes, a desperate expression on his slightly chubby face.

"Master Dwarf, please, release him, now" ordered Thorin, looking at the scene before him with a stern expression.

It had been almost 5 years since the last time a Hobbit had been seen going about Erebor and the near city of Dale and Thorin didn't really know what to make of it.

Hobbits.

The forgotten sons of Yavanna, left without a land and forced to march through the world without an actual destination forever.

Hobbits.

Thieves, beggars and whores.

Landless.

Always running away from city to city, without a single day of rest in all of their miserable lives, never trusted, always looked at with suspect.

Nonetheless, the young one trashing about, couldn't have been more than six or seven and Thorin was forced to admit that his dirty and wet cheeks made him feel a bit guilty about the boy, who probably had been forced to steal by his parents.

He then knelt down on one knee, trying to make eye-contact with the Hobbit, but uselessly, because the young one was stubbornly staring at his furry feet, avoiding the King's blue orbs with decision.

"Why did you steal from this stand?" asked firmly Thorin, staring at the black curls adorning the boy's head.

The Hobbit didn't answer, he just started shifting his weight from one foot to the other, fidgeting nervously and keeping his head lowered.

"The King asked ye a question, lad!" growled Dwalin impatiently, his hands going towards Grasper and Keeper, the two axes strapped onto his back.

"I didn't steal anything" came a little, squeaky voice from the boy.

"Like hell, you didn't!" shouted the merchant, making the Hobbit jump "I saw him grabbing an apple from my stand,Your Majesty! Mahal, I swear he did!"

"I had money to pay it!"

"Stolen money, probably, then! Everybody knows how you dirty Landless gain your money, whelp!" spat the Dwarf

"It's not true, I did not steal!" cried the boy in distress, his face red with anger and embarrassment.

Thorin placed a hand on the Dwarf's shoulder "I think that's enough. You got your apple back and the boy didn't cause any harm. I'll take care of the Hobbit now" he then turned towards Dwalin "make sure he doesn't run away, we'll take him to the Landless' camp, it must be near"

"Yes, Yer Majesty" answered the guard dutifully and grabbed the boy by an arm, yanking him beside himself, his hold as tight as a morsel.

"Lead the way to your camp, boy, we'll take you back to your family" ordered the King, coldly.

The Hobbit just nodded with his head bowed and started walking through the Market like he owned it, with an air of security about him, even though his head stayed lowered.

While walking, Thorin couldn't help but stare at the little Hobbit before him: even though he had chubby cheeks, he was thin, too thin for such a young boy, his feet were full of callouses from long days of march through the whole Middle Earth.

While his clothes were relatively clean, they were a tad too big for him, making him seem even smaller than how he actually was and the mop of hair on top of his head definitively needed to be combed.

"Do you live here, boy?" answered the King, when they reached the small place at the centre of the Market, where often enough acrobats or jugglers performed to gain something easily.

"No. I'm just looking for someone" answered the Hobbit, glancing around the crowd attentively.

"Don't ye try running away, lad, 'cause if ye do it then..." but the boy never got to hear what Dwalin would have done him, had he run away, because a relieved voice made the three turn around quickly.

"Frodo!"

Thorin stared at the creature in front of him. It was clearly a Hobbit, older than the boy, probably an adult -though it was difficult to say, without a beard-, with dark blond hair and blue eyes filled with agitation and, in part, relief at the sight of the young one.

What attracted the most Thorin's attention, though, was the fact that this Hobbit was dressed in silky-looking, dark red clothes, adorned with bells and fake jewels.

A Dancer, then.

That, or a whore.

When he rushed towards Frodo, if that was the boy's name, he made so with a clinking noise, the bells around his ankles dingling loudly.

"Oh, Frodo, you scared me so much! I told you to stay until the end the exhibition! You didn't get in trouble, did you?" ranted the Hobbit clutching at the boy and kissing his head and his cheeks several time, looking for bruises and cuts while doing so.

Then he seemed to notice the two Dwarves staring at him and tried to compose himself, turning to them with a small but grateful smile.

"Thank you, for taking him back to me, Your Majesty, Master Dwarf" said the hobbit bowing to them with reference "I was so scared he'd got himself into troubles again!"

"Actually, he was. He was caught stealing from a fruit stand. An apple, so it seems" answered Thorin, watching the older Hobbit's eyes widen in shock.

"He wouldn't. I...I gave him money this morning, just in case something happened. He knows he has to pay! Frodo, you know!"

"I didn't steal, Uncle! That stupid, arse-faced Dwarf grabbed me before I could take my money!"

The boy's uncle sighed deeply, turned again to the Dwarves and thanked them again, with one last bow, then lifted the boy off of the ground and held him to his hip.

"I'm afraid we have to go back to our camp, otherwise we'll find ourselves within the Walls after they close the Doors" said the Hobbit, and started marching towards the Doors without hesitation.

"Wait!" yelled Thorin after them "Why wouldn't you stay within the Walls?"

The Landless stopped abruptly and turned around to face the King.

"Because Hobbits don't do well inside stone walls, Your Majesty. Have a good Night"

Dwalin snorted beside him and Thorin couldn't help but agree with his friend, yet that Landless intrigued him a bit, with his soft manners and cordial disposition.

He was not like he thought Hobbits were, like he had been taught Hobbits were.

Only when he'd been back to the Mountain, had bathed and dressed down for sleep, then and only then, he realized he didn't even know the Hobbit's name

Notes:

Smaug never happened in this, Thorin became King when Thrain died, living him the throne. He has a friendly enough relationship with both Elves and Men, not having been disappointed by Thranduill nor by the Men after Smaug's death.

Hobbits never settled in the Shire. For this reason they are like gypsies, going around the world but never really stopping too much in the same place. Like gypsies, they too are victims of prejudices by others and thus are considered thieves or whores (not assassins, because they're too small to be seen as a real menace)

Frodo swears. Yep.

Bilbo, Bilbo is my Esmeralda in this one (It doesn't mean that Thorin is Frollo/Phoebus/Quasimodo, nor that he'll fall for the King so easily.) because there's something esmeraldesque in him, like his need to travel which he shares with Book!Esmeralda/Musical!Esmeralda

Thorin, I just love him so much! He's such a dumbass...

If you want to hear something good along the lines of this story, try Cocciante's musical version of de Paris (I like it better in Italian, the Italian Clopin is amazing!)

End of rant, thank you again