My second Fem!Bilbo Fanfiction story, I'm portraying Emma Watson who played Hermione from Harry Potter as the female version of Bilbo. There will be a few things will add to this tale like characters or beasts.
(Happy Halloween!)
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hobbit, but I do own one character I created who's not in the book or film.
Prologue
One dark and stormy night, the rain poured heavily down into the village of Bree. A solitary rain-drenched cloaked figure was walking outside of the village towards the gate and knocked on the doors. A gatekeeper with a hooked nose and very thin almost grey hair opened the first slot from the top but saw nothing. Then he lowered down to the lower slot for little folk and saw the stranger in a cloak with a cowl over his head, a rucksack and a sword on his back.
"What do you want?" He grumbled; clearly hated being out in the pouring rain.
"I'm looking for a place in this village to spend the night." The stranger's deep rich voice responded.
The gatekeeper shut the slot and opened the door of the gate; bringing a lantern out to take a look at the stranger and noticed his size stature.
"A Dwarf," The gatekeeper observed suspiciously, "you came a long way down from the Blue Mountains at this time of night, Master Dwarf; what business brings you to Bree?"
"I wished to stay in an Inn, my business is my own." The Dwarf replied irritated.
"All right, Master Dwarf, I meant no offence." The gatekeeper reluctantly lets the dwarf through the gate. "It's my job to ask questions after nightfall. There's talk of strange folk abroad, can't be too careful." He warned as he closed the door.
"Is there an Inn somewhere in this village?" The Dwarf asked.
"The Prancing Pony is the nearest one around here, Master Dwarf." The gatekeeper informed him. "Just go through the street just ahead of you, you'll find the signpost easily enough." He pointed out the way for him and went back into his hut.
The Dwarf trudged on the road of puddles and soggy mud alone, went past two fences that contained some farm animals out in the rain, as he entered the crowded streets; the people there were too busy trying to get out of the downpour.
Eventually, the Dwarf found the swinging wooden Inn sign with an image of a white pony rearing and underneath it was carved written the Prancing Pony Inn, at last, he finally found it and was willing to get out of the wretched weather.
Inside the whole inn was crowded a mixture of men, little folk and creatures like ferrets and a black cat. The pub was filled with noise and smoke; the noise was a mix of roaring laughter and rowdy arguments of drunken men.
"This place will have to do." The Dwarf thought as he went inside, he went up to the bar to announce the innkeeper his arrival.
"Good evening, Master Dwarf, welcome to the Prancing Pony," The innkeeper greeted him. "if you are seeking to lodge for the night, we've got some nice cosy rooms available; Mr…?"
"Oakenshield, My name's Oakenshield" The Dwarf replied. "I would like a room just for the night."
"Very well, we'll have your room ready, Master Oakenshield." The innkeeper kindly offered. "Betsy come ere,' love!" He called over to the barmaid.
"Have a room ready for this Dwarf gentleman." He instructed her as she arrived.
"Right away, Sir." The barmaid obeyed and set off upstairs to get the room ready, the innkeeper showed the Dwarf to an empty table; then he went back to the bar to serve his customers.
Meanwhile, the Dwarf, Oakenshield lit his pipe as the maid came back from her chores.
"Good evening, Sir," She curtsied "your room is prepared when you are ready to retire for the night, can I get you anything to eat, Sir?"
"I'll have a pint of your best ale, along with some bread and cheese, please." Oakenshield requested politely.
"Coming up right away, Sir." The maid obeyed and went to the kitchen; it wasn't long before she came back with food and drink.
"Oi, watch it!" she warned to the man who nearly knocked the food out of her hands.
"Sorry, darling." He drunkenly apologised as he staggered his way to the bar.
Shook her head at their state and headed straight to the Dwarf's table; that was surrounded by the smoke from his pipe.
"There you are, Sir." "The maid said as she set the plate on the table and handed him the tankard of ale.
"Thank you." He thanked her and he took his tankard from her; the maid bobbed a curtsy and went about her business to serve the other customers.
Oakenshield began to munch his dinner, looking around the place and spotted a little man (who was no bigger than himself) trying to reach the bar but was too small so one of the big folk picked him up like a child to help him reach the bar.
He had never seen these small beings before and wondered what they were when suddenly he felt like he was being watched.
He looked to his right side and saw sitting near the window, a sinister and heavy looking thug with a bald head, a bushy moustache, one blind right eye, smoking his pipe as he watched him.
Then Oakenshield looked to his left, at the opposite end of the inn was a menacing and gaunt looking man who was staring ferociously right at him.
The dwarf turned his head away from them acting like everything was normal but noticed them slowly getting up from their seats beginning to make their way towards him. Oakenshield reached out his hand to his sword next to him, ready for a fight until suddenly someone sat down in front of him on the table.
The new figure that sat in front of him was an old man who has long grey hair and a mid-length beard with twinkling blue eyes and was dressed in grey robes.
"Mind if I join you?" The grey-robed man asked him and stopped the maid who about to go past him. "I'll have the same." He requested to her and the maid immediately went back to the kitchen.
The two sinister characters backed away.
"I should introduce myself, my name is Gandalf," The grey man presented himself to the dwarf. "Gandalf the Grey."
"I know who you are." The Dwarf acknowledged him, he had known about the grey wizard from his father.
"Well now, this is a fine chance." The wizard proclaimed excitedly. "What brings Thorin Oakenshield to Bree?"
"I received word that my father, had been seen wandering the Wilds near Dunland," Thorin explained to the wizard with wistful longing. "I went looking, but I found no sign of him." He said his voice heavy.
"Ah, Thrain…" Gandalf understood with a look of sadness.
"You're just like the others" Thorin accused him with disbelief. "You think he's dead."
"I was not at the battle of Moria." Gandalf reminded him.
"No…but I was," Thorin said hauntingly as he recalled the memory of that terrible battle.
The battle of Moria was a war that none of the Dwarves of their lost kingdom, Erebor, would ever forget; the mountainside was overrun with Orcs who took over Moria.
Prince Thorin, son of Thrain and grandson of Thror fought so hard alongside his father with his war-hammer; his armour bathed with Orc blood and his sweat.
Then he heard a fearsome roar he turned and saw to his horror, the giant pale Gundabad Orc, Azog the Defiler, held up in his hand the severed head of his Grandfather, Thror.
Thorin and his father, Thrain, and nearly every dwarf around them could not believe their eyes. The King under the mountain was dead and Azog in dishonour threw down the severed head towards Thorin and Thrain.
"No!" Thorin cried out in anger and in his fury, he tried to race up to fight the pale Orc to avenge his Grandfather's death, but his father stopped from going any further.
"Father."
"Stay back, Thorin!" Thrain ordered his son and readied his war-hammer to go and fight the pale Orc.
"No, I will fight with you" Thorin insisted determinedly.
But his father would not let him.
"Azog means to kill us all," Thrain warned his son to make him understand. "One by one he will destroy the line of Durin."
"But by mine's life, he shall not take my son." He vowed. "You will stay here; take care of your brother and sister."
He gathered some of his troops and led a charge towards to pale Orc with his war-hammer; he battled his way towards the Orc who murdered his father.
"Father!" Thorin called him, but that was the last time Thorin seen his father.
"My father led a charge towards the Dimrill Gate; he never returned" Thorin continued his heart was filled with grief. "I also lost my brother, Frerin from the battle."
"'Thrain is gone,' they told me, 'he is one of the fallen.'" Thorin continued his tale. "But at the end of the battle, I searched amongst the slain to the last body; my father was not among the dead."
"Tell me, Thorin, the ring your Grandfather wore," Gandalf inquired after a moment. "One of the seven given to the Dwarf-lords many years ago, what became of it?"
This question was unexpected to Thorin, he had not thought about the fate of the ring of Durin the III.
"He gave it to my father before they went into battle." He answered.
"So, Thrain was wearing it when he…, when he went missing," Gandalf pondered by this information as the maid bought over Gandalf's food. "that's that then."
"I know my father came to see you before the battle of Moria." Thorin probed the wizard. "What did you say to him?"
Gandalf looked up to Thorin and gave him a serious look.
"I urged him to march upon Erebor to rally the seven armies of the Dwarves to destroy the Dragon and take back the Lonely Mountain." He informed to the Dwarf before him. "And I would say the same to you; take back your homeland."
"This is no chance meeting, is it Gandalf?" He asked Gandalf suspiciously as he set aside his plate of food and took a drink from his tankard.
"No, it is not," Gandalf admitted. "The Lonely Mountain troubles me, Thorin, that Dragon has sat there long enough."
Gandalf bent his head closer for Thorin to hear.
"Sooner or later; darker minds will turn towards Erebor." He cautioned Thorin, and then he took out something from his pocket as he continued. "I ran into some unsavoury characters whilst travelling on the Greenway, they mistook me for a vagabond."
"I imagine they regretted that." Thorin estimated and looked at Gandalf who was unravelling something in his hands.
"One of them was carrying a message." Gandalf showed Thorin a torn piece of leather or whatever it was; there was something written on the scrap in black ink.
"It is black speech," Gandalf informed Thorin as he had a closer look. "a promise of payment."
"For what?" Thorin probed the wizard to tell him.
"Your head," Gandalf revealed solemnly to the Dwarf.
Thorin looked up in alarm at the wizard.
"Someone wants you dead," Gandalf warned. "Thorin, you can wait no longer, you are the heir to the throne of Durin."
"Unite the armies of the Dwarves, together you have the might and power to retake Erebor." Gandalf bid to the Dwarf Prince. "Summon a meeting of the seven Dwarf families, demand they stand by their oath."
"The seven armies swore that oath to the one who wields the king's jewel; the Arkenstone." Thorin notified in a low voice of this disadvantage to the wizard. "It is the only thing that could unite them, and in case you have forgotten that jewel was stolen by Smaug."
While Thorin was saying this Gandalf noticed the two sinister men were listening as they were leaving, Thorin noticed them too and then the two men left.
Gandalf looked at them and turned back to Thorin.
"What if I were to help you reclaim it?" Gandalf suggested mysteriously.
This surprised Thorin that this Wizard was going to help him willing.
"But how?" Thorin asked meaningfully. "The Arkenstone lies half a world away, buried beneath the feet of fire-breathing Dragon."
"Yes, it does," Gandalf agreed. "Which is why we're going to need a Witch." And he gave a secret smile.
Thorin's eyes widen by this announcement.
The next morning, the sun shone very brightly over the village of Bree, but the rain left the town wet and soggy.
Thorin and Gandalf had left the Prancing Pony Inn and Bree to walk on the road.
"Well, Thorin, this is where we part ways for now," Gandalf announced.
"But when shall we meet again?" Thorin inquired.
"At the Shire, it is the homeland of the Hobbits," Gandalf answered with a fond smile.
"Hobbits?" Thorin asked Gandalf in confusion. "You mean Halflings; I thought they were just creatures from fairy tales?"
"No, Thorin; they are very real like you and me," Gandalf assured him. "Hobbits are plain and quiet folk who don't get out into the world very often; they very much prefer the comforts of their homes."
"But why Hobbits, Gandalf?" Thorin questioned the wizard. "I thought we're going to have a Witch for this quest."
"Indeed we are, Thorin." Gandalf guaranteed. "Because you see, our Witch is a Hobbit."
This was not what Thorin had expected; he thought the Witch might be an old woman from the race of Men or perhaps to his loathing, an Elf-maid.
"And where will we find this place we are going to meet?" Thorin demanded so that he could pass it on the seven dwarf kingdoms. "And what day?"
"The meeting will be on the 26th day on Wednesday, next month. It's just south-east from the Blue Mountains; just look the little doors in the hills." Gandalf instructed to Thorin. "But look for the door with my mark, that's where our meeting place will be and where our Witch lives."
Thorin thought for a moment on the information Gandalf gave him and hope that enough Dwarves would help him with the quest and gave a big sigh.
"Very well," Thorin nodded his head in agreement. "until next month."
"I wish you a safe journey, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf bade him. "until our next meeting. Farewell and don't be late."
Thorin watched the wizard go on his way until he disappeared and made his journey back to the Blue Mountains and to be ready to send out messages to each dwarf clans that their homeland of Erebor will once again be their home.
Who is this mysterious Witch who lives in the Shire?
Find out in the next chapter of the Hobbit-Witch…
With thanks to yinyangswings for proof-reading this prologue