The Shire, April, 2941
Ella spurred her pony as she left Hobbiton behind and took the forest road eastwards.
Strictly speaking, it wasn't "her" pony in the first place, but if she wanted to catch up with Gandalf and the others, she could hardly walk, could she? They had left Bilbo's home an hour ago, as long as it had taken her to concoct her daring plan. And it wasn't that she had stolen the animal, merely borrowed it. She would of course return it to its owner on her glorious return, and with a bag full of coins on top. No one could ask for more.
The daylight was quickly fading, but Ella wasn't too worried- a party of a wizard and thirteen dwarves on horseback could hardly be overlooked, even in the dark, and dwarves weren't exactly known for stealthiness and usually long heard before seen. And after all, she knew where they were heading to. She heard everything that was spoken at her uncle's table, once the big feast was over.
No, the hard part would not be finding them but everything that came after that. But Ella had never been one to worry much about chestnuts before they fell into the fire.
At worst they could say no. Meaning she'd have to return to uncle Bilbo, his absent smiles, old books and ( admittedly ) good dishes- that is, the good dishes he would serve, had the dwarfs not plundered his pantry. A swarm of hungry locusts was nothing compared to those bearded brutes. Where Bilbo was hoarding a huge stock of delicacies before, as if expecting a great famine in the near future, there were hardly more than a few crumbs left now, and Ella should know; she had made generous use of the meager leftovers for a quick travel snack.
Outright laughable actually, that grandma Ermentrude ( who came as close to a dragon as Ella could imagine ) should have believed, that quirky bachelor of an uncle could keep her unruly ward in reign when she couldn't. But then- it had probably been more about finding a place where Ella would be less able to "get up to nonsense", as she would call it. Hobbiton was a sleepy hollow compared to Bree, hardly more than a dozen hobbit holes, pittoresquely embedded into the green fields of the Shire, so quiet one could hear the grass grow.
A postcard idyll, a still life in the truest sense of the word. Placid, in terms of its inhabitants. Deadly dull in Ella's. Suffocating.
Bilbo's place was called Bag End and that's what it was- an end, a place to settle down and never leave again, a cage, however neatly decorated, and even worse, in an environment where everybody knew everybody else, and was always up to date with even the smallest of their neighbours' misdeeds- which especially for someone like Ella could augur no well.
But then again- what heinous crimes had she committed to deserve to be dumped in such a backwater anyway? A mug or two ( or a few more ) of ale and a pipe here and there, a little gambling in the taverns, a few ( really harmless )fights, nothing more- and all of it things that would be expected from a hobbit of her age rather than frowned upon. If she were a boy, mind.
But Ella was a girl, and if she sometimes paid her gambling debts in kisses instead of coins, who could blame her? She had no money of her own, and she hardly ever lost- or only if her game partners were fairly handsome. And they were all strangers anyway, tradespeople mostly, who would again be well on their way when they noticed that one or two small things in their possession were missing-
While Bree was a tradepost, which naturally saw its fair share of transients, strangers hardly ever found their way into Hobbiton and thus, Ella was thrilled about Gandalf's visit.
The old wizard was an inexhaustable well of funny magic tricks and exciting stories and his fondness for hobbits in general and Baggins in particular included even her as the black sheep of the family.
But as it turned out, he had only come to talk her uncle into joining a risky endeavor- and for no other than the dwarf king himself.
And if ever a king deserved his title, Ella had to admit that, it was certainly this Thorin.
He was the last of the thirteen dwarves that entered Bilbo's hobbit hole ( or invaded it rather ) but there was no mistaking for who he was at the very first glance. Apart from being more than stately with his sturdy, muscular frame and his handsome, angular face with eyes of the deepest blue Ella had ever seen, framed by a thick mane of dark hair and a beard of the same colour, the man carried such an aura of power and authority that Ella could have sworn the temperature in the room dropped considerably at his entry.
But even if he may make an impressive king, currently he was a king without a kingdom, and that was what the whole conspiratorial meeting was about in the first place.
Ella couldn't claim to have understood everything that was discussed, but there was talk of a secret, hidden entrance into the mighty dwarven stronghold of Erebor, which Thorin planned to find and use to reclaim his kingdom. A task which required the help of a skilled burglar, and that was where her uncle came into play.
Except that Bilbo had outright refused.
Well, had Gandalf asked Ella- which of course he had not- she could have told him so beforehand. Fascinated though her uncle was by old stories about elves and dragons and whatever wonders Middle Earth offered to a fearless adventurer, he preferred to read about it in his books, in front of his cozy fireplace in the safety of his hobbit hole.
Of all her family, Ella was likely the only one who had inheritated something like a thirst for actual adventures, which was as unusual a trait for a Baggins as for all her people.
The old wizard had led the company of dwarves to the right place, but they had asked the wrong hobbit.
About an hour later, when Ella began to worry, they might have decided to ride all night , she was relieved to see the lights of a campfire in front of her. She let the pony fall into a slow trot, as she rode towards the party sitting around it. Now that she had found them, her confidence was beginning to waver, if only a little.
"Gandalf," she shouted at the one person among them she knew and knew to know her, just to make sure to avoid an over-eager dwarf blade at her throat before she could so much as explain her peaceful intentions.
The old wizard rose and let his inevitable pipe sink as he gaped at her in surprise. "Ella?" he asked at last. "What are you doing out here in the middle of the night, child? Is Bilbo with you?"
"No." Ella gritted her teeth at his unfortunate wording. Gandalf might be as old as time itself, and he never called her uncle, who at fifty was supposed to be a man in his prime, other than "young Bilbo", but it was certainly a bad start of her endeavor to point out how young she really was.
Warriors as they were, and a suspicious people on top of that, the dwarves had all jumped up at her approach, and from what she could tell by the light of the flickering flames, now watched her with not too friendly miens. She dismounted and regretted it immediately, when it occured to her that she was now visibly by far the smallest person in the make up for this disadvantage, she held her chin up high, as she took a step towards the dwarf king.
"Bilbo has not changed his mind I'm afraid," she said with what she hoped sounded like a firm and determined voice, "but he is not the burglar you're looking for. It is me."
"Now, now girl," she heard Gandalf's voice but ignored him and instead sank into a deep bow, as this was what was expected in front of kings.
"Llewella Dandelia Baggins, at your service."
The incredulous silence that followed was soon interrupted by a few, stifled, yet clearly audible chuckles from the ranks of the dwarves. Ella looked up and her eyes met Thorin's piercing blue stare. The king himself looked unamused, apart from maybe the slightest twitch of his upper lip beneath his dark beard.
"Quite a long name for such a short person," he said, his voice barely more than a low growl. Ella felt her face grow hot despite the chilly night air. It was a clear slight, and an unfair one at that. Three feet ( or well, almost) were by all means a respectable size for a hobbit, still Thorin, who was exceptionally tall for a dwarf, overtowered her easily by at least a head.
"And a nice one at that," one of the other dwarves leapt to her defense and Ella blinked, surprised to hear an actually friendly voice here. The man who had stepped forward and casually laid his hand on Thorin's broad shoulder, had a friendly face too, young and handsome, or at least by dwarf standards.
"All hobbit names are supposed to have a meaning or so I've heard. Plants, trees and such. What's yours?" There was nothing but polite curiosity in his voice, yet Ella felt her face flush anew. She shot a sharp glance at the wizard standing next to her. Don't.
"Buttercup," Gandalf answered for her, helpful as ever.
The chuckles set in anew, louder this time. Why, thanks a lot Gandalf. Ella supressed the strong desire to kick his shinbone.
The dwarf king looked her over and Ella was well aware what he saw. Gandalf had not been quite accurate, her first name meant "lioness"- which was definitely far more impressive than "buttercup"- but even if her unruly curls might with some imagination pass for a lion's mane, they were of a bright yellow which bore an unmistakable resemblance to the namesake flower, and framed a generously freckled face with round eyes, a not too graceful snub nose and a small rosebud mouth which was right now pinched into an irritated line.
Thorin exhaled with a sigh. He looked tired.
"Well, Miss Baggins-"
"Ella is fine," she interjected quickly.
His gaze hardened. "Miss Baggins," he began anew, his voice a trifle cooler this time, clearly he wasn't used to be interrupted by inferiors. "I thank you for your offer, but I have to decline. I'm sorry you made the long way for nothing, but you shouldn't have come here in the first place."
He turned his broad back on her and walked back towards the fire. Evidently, she was dismissed.
"Come now, girl." Ella felt Gandalf's reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Let's bring you home, shall we?" He glanced at her mount and raised a brow. "Isn't that Master Peabody's pony?"
Ella shook his hand off. "Is that how dwarves honor their contracts?" she shouted in the direction of the king's back. "And here I thought a king was obliged to abide by his word."
Thorin turned with an ominous frown on his distinctive features, but she ignored it, produced a parchment from her shoulder bag and held it up to his face. After a moment, he took it from her hand and darted a quick glance at it.
"The contract was made for a hobbit named Bilbo Baggins," he said dangerously calmly. "It says Baggins, nothing more." Ella shot back and tipped her finger on the parchment. "I am a Baggins. And this is my signature." She raised her chin defiantly to meet Thorin's deep blue eyes. "Like it or not, your Highness, you will need me. And as far as I'm informed, size doesn't matter in this endeavor, rather the contrary, I should think."
For a moment, Ella thought she had won. There was a subtle flicker of a new emotion in the king's cold eyes, but if anger, amusement or even a tinge of reluctant respect at her bold speech, she couldn't tell, especially because it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
"And I said no." he said with cold finality. "You may not have- should I say spied ?- well enough on our conversation, Miss Baggins, because you wouldn't have signed for this if you had. This is no joyride but a dangerous undertaking, and I mean dangerous. It is no less than all our lives which are at stake here, and as much as it troubles me to put my companions in danger, they are all battle-proven warriors. It is my responsibility as their king to do my best so that everyone comes out of this alive and unharmed. However, if you had read this contract- which I assume you have not- you would have noticed that there's no guarantee for this. I am not a nanny and neither have I use for a- mascot."
Now, that was unambigious. Part of Ella never really believed this was going to work anyway, and when she thought about it now, she should be glad about that. By the hairs on her feet, she didn't even like dwarves much. And especially not this specimen. It was better this way. Besides, Thorin had a point, she might not have read the contract too closely, but skipped the less pleasant parts to come straight to the promised reward. But then, there hadn't been a lot of time-
However, another part of her, the way more distinct and unfortunately way less reasonable part, wanted to have at least the last word.
Ella took a deep breath. "I see," she said blankly and inclined her head to the tiniest bow possible. "Well, in this case, I reckon you'd like to have this back."
She reached out her hand und watched from the corner of her eye how Thorin's eyes grew wide and he gasped for air in surprise, when he saw what she was holding in her tiny palm.
His seal ring, the token of his regality and certainly his most precious possession at the moment. Which she had slipped from his finger while handing him the contract without him even noticing.
In the face of this vast impudence, the other dwarves caught their breaths, awaiting the outburst of rage which must inevitably follow, but instead it was Gandalf's low chuckle which broke the tense silence.
"Why Thorin," the old wizard said and he sounded quite cheerful. "It would seem, you have found your burglar after all."