Chapter One: The Hobbit and the Golden Lady

As the wizard ambled down the path, opening and closing the gate to Bag End as he went, Bilbo Baggins was quite content to continue with his peaceful morning and smoke to forget the ordeal that was Gandalf the Grey. He frowned a little and looked out the window once more to watch the old man disappear down the road – he just had to invite him for supper, didn't he? Bilbo scratched his head and puffed angrily, what else was he supposed to do anyway? A Baggins of Bag End did not go about sending people away, a Baggins was supposed to invite people and make them feel welcome. Bilbo sat down in his armchair by the fire and puffed away on his pipe, fuming silently in such a fashion that one might've imagined smoke coming out of his ears.

He wondered briefly why an adventure would be a good idea. He was fifty years old and a respectful bachelor, he'd done well by his father and…Oh bother, Bilbo thought as he looked up at the mantelpiece where the pictures of his parents sat - what would his mother think of him now?

Belladonna Took was an audacious, wild woman who preferred tree-climbing and dangling herself over rivers to knitting and laundry. She was an excellent cook (a skill that was thankfully passed onto her son) and something of a warrior when it came to defending her child from bullies. She would've left in a heartbeat, the hobbit thought sadly, she would be packing her bags right now and searching for a sword or something adventurous like that. Bilbo stood up and walked out of the parlour and down the hall to his study where a tall desk piled with maps and books, Elvish writing along with some of his own crude translations, and even a few of Belladonna's notes lay. Ink pots were scattered about the room, two smaller tables carried more maps and small pamphlets, letters from some of Belladonna's old friends. There was a huge map of Middle-Earth framed and set on the northern wall so the light of the window hit it fully, and Bilbo ran his hands along the thickly bound books his mother had brought back for him from some of her trips.

She had travelled a lot, walking as far east as Bree and west to the Blue Mountains before she was married. Bilbo remembered her preparing for a trip to the Bay of Forochel and how he so wanted to go but Bungo said no as Bilbo was too young. Belladonna always brought home such interesting things from her travels, healing stones and medicinal flowers, drawing, and books – oh, lots and lots of books. So, why not go on an adventure? Why not write a book about it, he might meet an Elf or two on the way and that would be worth it, right? Or maybe a Dwarf…no, no, too messy.

There was a knock on the door. Bilbo jumped up and whirled around, if Gandalf could read minds Bilbo had a few choice words he'd like to say to the wizard. The knock sounded again and Bilbo promptly shoved his Tookish side into a barrel and shut it tight, stalking towards the door and throwing it open. All anger immediately vanished from his face when he saw the visitor, his face lit up as she rubbed her nose against his.

"You look upset, Little One." The woman's deep voice said, Bilbo kindly stepped away from the door as she bent down and walked inside.

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about, how was your trip?" Bilbo walked into the kitchen and fumbled around in the cupboards for a box of teas, he asked aloud what she would prefer.

"One of those fruity ones and the trip was good," she moved to a cushion tucked in the corner of the parlour and began pulling out leaves and twigs out of her hair, she opened a window and tossed them outside because she knew Bilbo would not be happy if he found the floor littered with dirt. The hobbit dropped the teabag into a teapot and set a kettle of water over the hearth, he may make a soup later on for the two of them – sorry – the three of them if Gandalf bothered to show up at all tonight.

"So, where did you go this time?" He asked as the kettle began to whistle; he grabbed a dish cloth from the sink and used it to shield his hands from the heat of the metal as he wrapped his hands around the handle and lifted it out. Bilbo poured the water into the teapot and let it steep for a few minutes. He moved into the pantry across the hall and pulled out a few tarts and cookies that he had baked the previous night and put them onto a tray. He then returned to the kitchen and emptied the tea into the cups and placed them onto the platter as well. He set the tray down on a small table and the woman crawled over and grabbed her mug (a fairly large cup by hobbit standards) which was coloured blue with a painted daisy on the front. She dipped her finger into the tea before touching the cup to her lips, she leaned her head back and took a long drink.

"Fornost," she murmured, her greenish-blue eyes twinkling. Bilbo choked on his tea and coughed as the hot liquid burned the inside of his throat, the woman gave him a scolding look and he waved his hand at her.

"What would drive you there of all places, Nim? It's abandoned and…and dangerous."

She quirked her eyebrow at him and laughed.

"I am dangerous, Little One, that place is not. I go for the hunt, wargs are becoming increasingly common up there and I have need to polish my claws." Upon seeing the distressed look on her friend's face, the woman shook her head. "They will not venture this far south, Bilbo; their paths lead them to the east."

She gestured vaguely in that direction and took another gulp of her tea, wiping the excess from her mouth. Bilbo leaned back in his seat and sighed, reaching for his pipe and sticking it into his mouth. The woman cocked her head to one side, knocking a small stick out of her hair and she picked it up and started ripping the bark off with her nails, still staring curiously at him.

"Bilbo," she started cautiously, "is something wrong?"

Bilbo blew a clumsy smoke ring.

"Well – I – it's just – um – "

"Spit it out." Bilbo huffed and looked away.

"Gandalf asked me to go on an adventure with him – I said no – or rather I meant too but now he's coming to supper thinking that I said yes!" Bilbo said quickly, dropping his pipe onto the table and grabbing a cookie to nibble on angrily. Nemea (as that was the lady's name) rolled her eyes and reached out to grab one of Bilbo's hands, her long yellow hair falling to cover half of her face.

"This is what bothers you? Bilbo, you know I would come with you, yes?" Bilbo blinked in surprise and exhaled a breath before smiling a tiny bit.

He leaned forward and carefully rested his forehead against hers, bringing his hand to grab the back of her head and she did the same. It was her odd way of offering comfort but what Bilbo did now was to thank her, he pulled away after a minute and pulled a stray leaf from her hair.

"Nemea, what would I do without you?"

"Worry yourself sick about wizards and the dragon-lady?"

"Dragon-lady indeed, nearly took off with my silverware last year, didn't she? I wonder what would've happened had you not stopped her."

Nemea shook her shaggy mane of golden-yellow hair out of her face and snorted, flopping backwards into the cushion with a rueful smirk.

"Please, she wouldn't have made it to the door much less out of it." She said smartly, abandoning her tea on the table and grabbing a chocolate chip cookie.

They talked more on the state of things at home and Bilbo described his meeting with Gandalf in more detail. Nemea had encountered Gandalf a few times before meeting Bilbo as she travelled from her home in the east. That is what initially drove Bilbo to like her so much as most hobbits had a particular saying about the east and that was something along the lines of "don't go near it". Bilbo was a very imaginative child, much more Tookish than he was today, because back when he was young he would have Nemea take him all over the Shire. Together they hunted for elves and goblins in the woods, crossing the Brandywine River and sneaking into the Old Forest until Belladonna and Bungo strictly forbid it. It was in these years that Bilbo's fondness for taking baths started as the two of them would tread mud into the carpets and darken their clothes with mud and water, even if Bilbo didn't like the idea of swimming very much.

Nemea was a tall woman though and she held him over the water and never let him fall. All the hobbit children had become quite fond of her and would braid daisies in her long golden hair, pinning it up on her head so it wouldn't dangle around her elbows. The older hobbits were not as affectionate towards her. She wore white cotton leggings and furry boots that ended just underneath her knees, and long yellow fur skirt that brushed against her knees and was bound around her hips with a leather belt. The Bagginses of Bag End had insisted she wear a white shirt underneath the straps of fur that were bound around her chest and stomach with leathery straps, it was supposed to make her appear more proper. The dragon lady (Lobelia Sackville-Baggins) often whispered about her apparent "savage upbringing" and Nemea was always quick to glare at the girl. Bilbo would explain to her later that Lobelia was worried that Bungo would make her another heir to his estate alongside Bilbo; Nemea took to calling her a dragon as she coveted Bag End like a drake covets gold.

Nemea had been found by Belladonna Baggins. The hobbit woman was returning from a trip to Buckland when she found Nemea crawling out of the High Hay which protected the hobbits from the evil of the Old Forest. Belladonna borrowed a wagon from the Brandybucks and a pony to get Nemea to her home where she nursed the woman back to health. Nemea never mentioned why she was injured or why she was in the Old Forest in the first place, and of course Bungo had not been the happiest person on Middle-Earth to have some stranger welcomed into his home without his permission. In time Nemea earned her keep in the few short months needed to heal completely. She often went and hunted rabbits for meals and warded off the smaller animals that would pray on the garden, and she looked after little Bilbo when his parents were busy with adult affairs. It was a very pleasant arrangement and by the end of their lives, Belladonna and Bungo left a small portion of their inheritance to her which was used to dig a tunnel at the back of Bag End that led to Nemea's private den.

"Are you tired at all? I have your bed made up."

Nemea looked up from her fourth tart, strawberry judging from the sudden redness to her lips.

"No, I took a short nap earlier. You knew I was coming?"

Bilbo laughed and nodded, reaching into his vest pocket for a handkerchief that Nemea could use to clean her mouth.

"You may not notice but you always disappear for exactly three months at a time unless something happens." He took drained his cup and stood up, Nemea instantly finished her cup as well and followed Bilbo into the kitchen to wash up. Stealing another tart, Nemea sat down at the table as Bilbo pulled out a big pot and started chopping up some vegetables.

"Do you need any help with that?" she asked as he poured several cups of water into the pot.

"No, no, thank you. I want to make something rather special tonight, shoo!" he waved her away with a smile and Nemea rolled her eyes at him and walked out of the kitchen to the center of the house.

Before her lay the pantry and behind that was the wine cellar and the cold cellar. She yawned into her hand and shrugged her shoulder; if there was nothing to do she might as well sleep again, no as if it hurt anyone. Keeping her head low as she shuffled through the food storage, she opened a door in the cold cellar and walked down a hallway that was built to her size. In a large circular room like the rest of the house was Nemea's room. It wasn't all that extravagant, a large round bed lay against the north wall covered in a heavy cotton blanket. A drawer lay to right with a few "proper" clothing pieces and a nightgown, a cloak of yellow fabric for the mild winters and a heavier forest green cloak for winters up north. Nemea had a thing for travelling as well. A collection of feathers and skins hung on the left wall, an assortment of teeth strung into necklaces hung there as well. There was one small window over her bed and a glass of water filled with bluebells sat there along with a courting gift from her mate. Nemea pressed her fingers over her eyes and shook her head. Growling softly, she climbed over her bed and grabbed the piece of jewellery. It was a simple orange crystal about the size of her thumbnail, strung on a thin black cord, in the shape of a teardrop. She fastened it around her neck and lay down on the bed.

"I miss you so much."