"Afternoon, Miss Took."
"Yes, it is." Came the reply. It was followed by an annoyed but well-meaning sigh, and then the hobbit doing the sighing continued about his day.
Miss Took's rather hobbit-abrasive attitude and behavior was well known about the Shire. While not rude, she was certainly not in the practice of using the usual hobbitish manners. She meant well, of course, but one could only expect so much from one who had not grown her entire life in the manner-aware Shire. This was to be expected of Miss Took, however, considering her origins and her age.
The hobbits were well used to her now, though they didn't necessarily like her all that much – save a few, such as her cousins and Hamfast Gamgee, who liked practically everyone.
Miss Took was odd and she generated a good bit of gossip from the hobbit-ladies of Hobbiton. She was not entirely hobbit, you see, but rather only half of a Halfling. Not to say she didn't have qualities of a Hobbit; she had thick soles on her feet – though they were small feet and the soles still required her to wear boots- and her hair was curly – but not the perfect ringlets of the other hobbit lasses. She was large, but only in bone structure, for she certainly didn't have the pudge to pad her as the others did.
"Good afternoon, Miss Took. Care to have a look at my potatoes?"
"Not today."
"Right. Yes. I can see that you're busy." Called the hobbit man after the quickly moving Took, who was heading for the Forest's edge.
Miss Took was not a lady. She was in the respects of gender…..but that was where her lady status ended. She preferred trousers to skirts – not that she wouldn't wear them – and she rarely wore the stiff corsets of the Shire – instead she wore breast bindings, from the other races in Middle Earth – and most importantly, Miss Took never went anywhere without a sword.
Currently, of course, she had it on her person, but she was also carrying a beautifully crafted bow along with her today. The hobbits knew what this meant; the Took woman was going hunting, and there was likely to be some fresh venison in the Shire by the end of the day.
Miss Took was far past her maturity, and to the surprise of those hobbit-lads and hobbit-lasses who still were curious about her, Miss Took was going on eighty-one and didn't show a single graying hair. This being said, it was well past time – according to many hobbits – that Miss Took should have been courted and married. Not for lack of trying on some of her year-mate hobbits, such as Rollo Boffin or Gorbadoc Brandybuck; Miss Took simply wasn't interested.
That being said, she had vanished for over four decades and had only just returned at the end of the year before. She was a very different lass than the one who had left the Shire, to the dismay of the old Hobbits.
Miss Took lived with her bachelor cousin, Bilbo Baggins, in Bag End. Fitting really, for the two uninterested parties to be sharing accommodations. There were no rumors that Bilbo and his strange cousin were romantically involved at all; it was quite socially acceptable that Bilbo had his older cousin around - many hobbit-lasses were hoping that she would talk some sense into the unobtainable catch of a Baggins.
The opposite was true; Bilbo's cousin did nothing but encourage him to remain a bachelor, sprouting nonsense of only having one true love.
On this particular day, as Miss Took passed through Hobbiton's market, Bilbo Baggins was good morning'd into hosting a wizard's company for tea, quite accidentally, thank you very much.
It was not until the sun had started to set that the cousins saw one another. Bilbo Baggins was seated in his armchair with his hairy feet towards the crackling fire when the door banged open. He barely jumped, as this was his cousin's usual way of entering.
"Boots." He called into the foyer from his spot without bothering to look up from his book. A pair of thumps against the floor answered his call and when he finally looked up it was to his cousin in the rounded doorway to the sitting room.
"Evening, cousin." She smirked, streaking blood across her cheek. Bilbo grimaced at the action and her smirk became a smile. She knew what she was doing – she usually did – and she chuckled. "Fine day for hunting."
"I suppose." He replied, politely refraining from picking his book back up.
"Well, it was." She gave him a rare soft look through her strange wolf-blue eyes. "I'll wash up and start on dinner."
Bilbo nodded, returning to his book before he made a little noise and scurried after his cousin, who was treading through the house on near silent feet. She glanced back at him but continued on her way.
"You'll never guess who I encountered this morning." Bilbo cried, exasperated, but continued on before she could try. "Gandalf the Grey! You remember him, I suppose. Very rude, he was; talking about adventures!"
"He drew on your door." She replied, grinning cheekily back at the flustered hobbit bachelor before she stepped into her room and closed the door in his face. Bilbo huffed and stomped back to his book, muttering about wizards and cousins showing up out of the blue.
His cousin emerged from her room and headed straight into the kitchen, by-passing the sitting room. Soon, the smial filled with the smell of cooking fish and asparagus with vinegar. Bilbo stood to set the table for two, and then joined his cousin at the table just as she was setting out the plates.
Bilbo was enthusiastically squeezing lemon over his meal when the bell for the door rang. The cousins glanced at each other momentarily in confusion and then Bilbo stood to answer the door.
"Did you invite anyone?" He called.
"No." She replied, eyeing the fish on her cousin's plate. It was staring at her. The slight creak of the old door echoed through the quiet hobbit hole and from the front of Bag End, Bilbo stood staring at a very intimating Big Folk, a dwarf to be exact.
He eyed Bilbo from head-to-hairy-foot and then bowed lowly. "Dwalin, at your service."
Shellshocked, Bilbo stared a moment, let out a bit of a whimper, and realized he was in his evening clothes and robe. Coming to his senses, Bilbo knotted it quickly, all the while saying, "Bilbo Baggins….at yours."
Dwalin eyed him for only a second before pushing into the smial without invitation.
"D-do we…know each other?"
"No." The dwarf said with finality. Bilbo watched him walk into Bag End, completely confused. He stopped at the foyer of the smial and shrugged off his worn cloak while dumping his pack on the ground. "Which way, laddie? Is it down here?"
"I-is what down where?"
"Supper." Dwalin tossed his cloak at Bilbo, who caught it and thanked himself that he did. "He said there'd be food and lots of it."
Bilbo called after the dwarf now heading into his dining room. "H-he said? Who said!?"
It took a moment to realize that this dwarf was heading towards his cousin, and Bilbo rushed to hang up the – unexpected – guest's cloak.
His cousin, meanwhile, had started on her own dinner when the dwarf, Dwalin, strode in, placed himself at Bilbo's spot and began eating the fish she'd prepared as dinner. The dwarf took a large bite with the tiny fork, chewed only twice before he spoke.
"Bit lemony, this."
"That would be because Bilbo just emptied a wedge of lemon onto it. It is his dinner." She replied, and then brandished her knife at the startled dwarf, who had – in the blink of an eye – pulled a dagger out of somewhere and was pointing it at her. "I'd rather you not do that, Master Dwarf. You are a guest, though an unexpected one, and I will kick you out of this smial if you continue to threaten me."
The dwarf put his blade away and put down the fork, eyeing her warily. "Dwalin, at your service."
He bowed his head, and then she placed down her own knife. "Sorrel Took, at yours and your family's."
Bilbo shuffled in, staring as politely as he could, and took a seat in the corner on a stool, disgusted, as the dwarf went back to eating, ripping into the fish with his teeth, having abandoned the fork. Sorrel took a bite of her own fish and then frowned at it. Bilbo had gotten lemon juice on her portion, and she wasn't a fan of the citrus fruit in anything but sweets. She wrinkled her nose, and brushed a loose curl away from her eyes.
"Very good this." Dwalin said, ripping another bite off.
"Thank you." Sorrel replied, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair.
"Have ya got any more?" He grumbled. Sorrel took one look at the dwarf, with fur broadening his already broad shoulders, and pushed her plate towards him before standing to fetch the dwarf an ale from the pantry. Bilbo jumped to his feet, muttered, "Ah…yes.", and passed over a plate of biscuits he'd baked earlier in the day, but not before pocketing two for himself. "Help yourself."
Dwalin mashed one into his mouth, and then flicked the crumbs off his fingers.
"It's just that…,um," Bilbo began, rocking on his heels and tucking his hands behind his back. "We weren't expecting company."
Sorrel entered the dining room as the bell rung again, carrying one of their tankards full of dark ale. It was from her own store of ales, a rather small barrel she'd brought back with her to the Shire and kept tucked away in a small side pantry that was so barren of food it was laughable.
"That'll be the door." Dwalin grumbled, hunched over his food as the Took woman plopped the tankard before him. Bilbo scurried off at a gesture from his cousin and the intimidating glare from the dwarf. "Thank ya, lass."
"Some of my personal supply." She replied, reaching for a biscuit. Dwalin's hand shifted as though to knock it away but, instead, reached for the ale. His face showed surprise as he took a gulp and he turned to her suspiciously.
"Dwarvish ale, that."
"Aye." She smirked, and then headed for the jar of cookies on the mantle. Dwalin, seeing where she was going, and having exhausted his own supply of food, followed after her. She barely had to stand on her toes to reach the thing, and Dwalin realized just how tall she was compared to her cousin.
Whereas Bilbo reached only his armpit –which didn't smell the best best, he didn't envy anyone who could smell it – Sorrel Took reached his shoulder. She was tall, for a hobbit.
"Cookie?" The lass held out the treat to the dwarf, smirking and he was about to take it from her when another, older looking, dwarf walked in.
"Oh! Haha! Evenin', brother!" He exclaimed, making his way towards Dwalin. The lass moved to lean against the table, watching them carefully whilst she placed the cookie back in the jar, and also with a slight amount of amusement, for she could see Bilbo in the doorway, poking his head out to check and see if there were more strangers heading towards Bag End.
"By my beard," Dwalin chuckled, drawing his words out as he paced towards his brother. "You're shorter and wider than last we met."
"Wider, but not shorter. And sharp enough for the both of us." The white-haired dwarf chuckled. You could see how these two were related to one another, for their features very much matched up; though Dwalin's features were a tad more battle-worn than his brother's.
The pair chuckled at each other, as though they shared some hilarious inside jest, and Dwalin dropped one of his large hands upon the other's shoulder. Bilbo began returning to the dining room, just in time for Dwalin and his brother to rear back and smash their foreheads together. Sorrel snickered under her breath at her cousin's bewildered expression. This, of course, caught Dwalin's brother's attention.
"And whose this?" He said with a kindly smile.
Sorrel dipped her head, the loose strands of hair that had escaped her tight bun brushing against her face. "Sorrel Took, at your service."
"Balin, Son of Fundin, at yours, my dear." He replied, bowing. Sorrel smirked, turning her head to look at Bilbo, who was flabbergasted. Balin and Dwalin, on her opposite side, suddenly caught the glint of metal in her ears. Whilst it was not uncommon for dwarrowdams to wear earrings, she was a hobbit and the way she wore her earrings were very much like Dwalin himself.
The brothers shared a glance and then looked back at this strange hobbit-lass.
"Some ale for you, Master Balin?" the girl said suddenly, turning swiftly. "I have a fine Dwarvish brew I've got hidden away, some of Hobbiton's finest mead, and some wine if you prefer. My cousin seems to have lost the ability to host, so I shall take it upon myself to do so until he has reacquired this skill."
"Ah, an ale, if you please." Balin replied, watching her carefully. She nodded, pushed herself off the table, and headed into the pantry.
Balin glanced at his brother, who had shuffled after the lass towards the pantry, obviously still hungry. She turned as they appeared, smirking, and passed Balin his ale.
"Now, how many in this meeting of yours?"
Should Balin have had any liquid in his mouth at that moment, he very likely would have been tempted to spit it out. Dwalin fixed her with a menacing glare.
"How do you know about the meetin'?" He growled. Sorrel raised one of her finely arched eyebrows.
"Well, really." She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I know a Dwarvish rune and a wizard when I see one. It's really not all that hard to put together, honestly."
Dwalin grunted, still not convinced. Sorrel sighed heavily.
"Dwarves rarely gather outside their own homes if not in large numbers. Rarely, they'll travel on their own. Also, Dwalin mentioned having lots of food."
"Well, that makes sense, I suppose." Balin sighed, obviously not liking the situation. "There'll be thirteen of us, lassie. Plus the wizard, and your cousin. And yourself, I suppose, should you like to join us for supper."
"Thank you, Master Balin." She replied, glancing around the corner at her cousin. "I'd ask you not tell Bilbo. His fits of fluster are most amusing to witness. I'd ask you also to please leave the pantry alone. I'll see to it there's dinner enough for all of you."
"Miss Took, we dwarves eat-"
"An awful lot. I live with a hobbit. It will be fine." She waved off his concerns and then turned back into the pantry to gather what she needed. Balin and Dwalin both turned back to the dining room and were met with an obviously confused hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins.
"Uh, excuse me; sorry, I hate to interrupt, ah, but the thing is, I'm not entirely sure you're in the right house." Dwalin and Balin glanced at each other as the hobbit started speaking. "I-it's not that I don't like visitors – I like visitors as much as the next hobbit –but I do like to know them before they come visiting."
The pair of dwarves turned back to the innards of the pantry, and set about poking at Bag End's stores.
"The thing is, um…the thing is I don't, I don't know either of you -not in the slightest." The sons of Fundin had found and been puzzled by the wedge of expensive blue cheese on one of the shelves. Dwalin tossed it over his shoulder as Sorrel returned to gather some more food. She, to the surprise of Balin – who'd been watching out his peripheral -, caught it with ease and tucked it back on its shelf before gathering an armful of root vegetables and a couple of onions. "I don't mean to be blunt, but I, uh, had to speak my mind. I'm sorry."
Balin and Dwalin both turned to face the hobbit and ceased their chatter. For several tense seconds, the trio stared at one another, before Balin said, "Apology accepted."
He turned back to Dwalin and punched him good-naturedly in the shoulder. "Don't stint, brother. That ale is fine, and I'd like some more."
The bell rang from the entrance, and Sorrel called from the kitchen, where Dwalin could hear the sounds of a knife chopping. "The door, cousin."
Bilbo's face scrunched up and he grumbled his way to the door to his home. He pulled it open reluctantly, and his face fell at the sight of two more dwarves. They were younger than Dwalin and Balin, and both were armed to the teeth.
"Fili," said the one on the left, the blond one with the peculiar mustache.
"And Kili." Said the brunet, with the stubble.
"At your service." They said together, bowing at the waist. The brunet was grinning as he came back up.
"You must be Mister Boggins." Kili was obviously a cheerful fellow, Bilbo thought and then shook himself internally and made to shut the door.
"Nope, you can't come in. You've come to the wrong house." Unfortunately for dear Mister Baggins, Kili thrust his foot out and pushed the door back open, his cheerful expression falling into one of a kicked puppy. His brother eyed the door suspiciously.
"What? Has it been canceled?!"
Fili looked at Kili and then back to Bilbo. "No one told us."
"Can-Nothings been canceled." The poor hobbit was utterly confused now.
"That's a relief." Said Kili, who pushed past the hobbit and inside, followed swiftly by his brother, who swaggered in, but eyed Bilbo carefully. The blond pulled his weapons from his side.
"Careful with these, I just had 'em sharpened."
"It's nice, this place. D'you do it yourself?"
Meanwhile, Dwalin had heard the brothers come in and was headed their way. This, of course, led him past the lass in the kitchen, who was adding things to a stew and was swiftly trussing up a small game bird. Already, a large pile of venison chunks was sat beside the stew pot, and several large steaks sat in their brown paper wrapping on the counter. Sorrel nodded at the large dwarf before returning to her work.
"Ah, Master Dwalin." She called, flicking a glance back over her shoulder to the warrior. "If thirteen is the number of visitors, you'll want to be moving the dining table. There're enough chairs scattered around my cousin's home to suit your needs."
"Thank ya, lass." He nodded to Balin, who'd heard what she had said, and moved into the foyer.
"Fili, Kili, come on, give us a hand."
"Mister Dwalin." Kili grinned, looking at the older warrior with a good bit of awe and a lot of respect.
"Let's shove this in the hallway," Balin directed, moving to one of the table's corners. "Otherwise we'll never get everyone in."
"Ev-everyone? How many more are there!?"
The bell rang again, loudly, and Sorrel could suddenly hear her cousin shouting, "No! No! There's nobody home!"
A loud thump followed this loud statement, and she smirked as she tossed a handful of herbs into the stew pot, and then turned to the root vegetables she'd gathered. She eyed them for a moment, before reaching for her knife, which she expertly twirled in her fingers before tackling the job of peeling and cleaning the food. The stew pot wafted the lovely smell of onions, garlic and browned meat.
"Go away, and bother somebody else! There's far too many dwarves in my dining room, as is! If this is some clot head's idea of a joke –" Bilbo's voice trailed off here as he got too far away for her to hear. There was an uproarious thud of several people falling and Sorrel assumed this meant that the rest of the Dwarves using her cousin's home for a meeting place had arrived.
It took very little time for the dwarves to create chaos in the pantry, grabbing things left and right, and tossing them to one another.
"Those are my plates! Excuse me! Not my wine. Put that back. Put that back! Not the jam, please!...Excuse me!" Bilbo demanded, several times over to several different dwarves. This was the liveliest Sorrel had ever seen Bag End in the months she'd been living there. It was amusing, to say the least. However, the dwarves were being a nuisance, and she'd had just about enough of them tossing the contents of her cousin's pantry about.
"A tad excessive, isn't it? Have you got a cheese knife!?"
"Cheese knife? He eats it by the block."
Sorrel turned about, knife in her hand, to finish trimming the steaks when a slight cough sounded from the entrance to the kitchen. She spun, quick as a hummingbird, and the knife she held was flipped through her fingers and poised as though she wanted to throw it in a matter of seconds.
The dwarf in the entrance flushed slightly and bowed.
"My apologies." He said. "I didn't mean to startle you. Dori, at your service. Might I use your kettle for a cup or two of tea?"
"Sorrel Took, at yours." She grabbed the shiny black kettle and pushed it his way. "You may certainly make some tea."
The pair were quiet for a moment.
"So then," Dori spoke up as he waited for the water to boil. "How long have you and Mister Baggins been courting?"
Sorrel snorted, in a most unladylike fashion, and then she laughed. "Courting, Master Dori? Hardly. Bilbo is my cousin. Younger, at that."
"Again, I offer my apologies. I merely assumed…." Dori fumbled through his clothes, looking for the pouch he kept his tea in, and also avoiding embarrassed eye contact.
"'tis fine." She waved it off, amused. "Tell me. What kind of chaos have they managed to create out there?"
"I do believe they are setting the table." Dori replied, reaching for the kettle. He was turning to ask about cups when two were set in front of him, and the lass turned back to the stove, propping a hand on her hip and stirring the stew.
"If you could tell them to stop making such a mess the of the pantry, and wait but a few moments, dinner will soon be ready."
"I will pass that along."
"Thank you."
Gandalf watched, amused, as the dwarves scurried about Bag End. He had stepped into the dining room and glanced at the young Master Ori, who was wiping down a set of plates to free them from the dust with his sleeve. From behind, someone cleared their throat.
"Mister Gandalf, might I tempt you with a nice cup of chamomile?"
"Oh, no thank, you, Dori. A little red wine for me, I think." The wizard went to duck out of the dining room but the eldest Ri brother caught his attention once more.
"The lass in the kitchen said that dinner was nearly ready," he said, and then turned to his kin in the pantry. "And could you stop pillaging the pantry!"
Dori's last sentence was loud and the dwarves stopped what they were doing to look at the dwarrow who said it. Dori drew himself up.
"Dinner will be ready soon."
"Someone's cooking dinner?" Ori said, looking at his brother. Gandalf frowned some, and then shuffled towards the kitchen, dodging the chandelier. The gray wizard ducked into the kitchen and his eyebrows rose.
"Never in all my years," He said, and the figure before him turned with a smirk. "Have I ever seen you so domestic, Sorrel Took."
She laughed, smoothing down her skirts and touching her messy hair. "Never have I been so domestic. Thought I'd try something a little different for a change."
"Those skirts are nice, my dear." Gandalf said, eyeing the stew on the stove. "But they don't quite suit you as much as your other attire."
The young woman glanced down at her clothing and chuckled, swishing the blue fabric about her partially exposed legs. Her blue skirts – in the hobbit style, of course- were paired with a form-fitting tan shirt, which buttoned up the front and left a lovely amount of her collarbones showing.
"Sometimes," She leaned as though to share a great secret, a smirk on her tanned face. "I like to feel like a member of my own gender."
Gandalf chuckled and then stepped out of the kitchen, counting the dwarves as they strode past.
"Fili and Kili, Oin, Gloin, Balin, Dwalin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, and Ori."
Bifur strode up, and spoke to Gandalf in Khuzdul, slapping his arm as he did so. "Quite right, Bifur. We appear to be one short."
"He's is late, is all. He traveled North to a meeting of our kin. He will come."
"Mister Gandalf?" Dori approached the Grey Pilgrim with a tiny little glass in his meaty hand. "A little glass of red wine, as requested. It's, eh, got a fruity bouquet."
"Ah, cheers." The man said as the dwarf wandered off, either to see his brothers or to help in the kitchen. Gandalf drank the tiny cup and then looked at it sadly, peering into it as though there may be more at the bottom.
"Out the way! Out the way!" Dori called, bearing two platters of steaming food. "More where this came from! Nori, Ori, help the lass move dinner to the table, would you?"
Nori and Ori shared confused looks and then headed into the kitchen, where their brother's ramblings had suddenly made sense.
"Excuse me, miss?" Ori said shyly, prompting the lady to turn, already holding four platters in an incredible feat of balance. "Dori said to come help."
"Aye, you can." She replied. "You must be Nori and Ori. Take as many platters as you can carry, there's enough for the lot of you."
Once the table was set with food and all the dwarves sat down, including Sorrel and Gandalf, the wizard made a strange tutting noise.
"This looks lovely, my dear." He said, catching the attentions of the rest of the dwarves, who fell quite silent at the now known presence of a woman. "You've simply outdone yourself. Company, may I introduce Miss Sorrel Took, Bilbo's cousin."
"Pleasure." She said, flashing a charming, if roguish, grin.
"Goodness me!" Bilbo murmured, not entirely used to seeing his cousin so comfortable in the company of others.
After a flurried round of introductions, the dwarves dug into the food with quiet relish. It took them several long minutes of serving food politely for Bofur, the hatted dwarf with laugh lines around his eyes, to call out to his brother at the end of the table.
"Bombur, catch!" And then he flung a hard-boiled egg at the massive ginger dwarf. Bombur opened his mouth and caught the sudden projectile, prompting cheers of encouragement. This, of course, managed to send the dwarves into a food fight, which was normal for these kinds of meetings.
Bilbo, however, made a noise of disgust and wrinkled his nose, hurrying out of the crowded hall and over to his pantry to see how badly it had been ransacked.
It was empty.
"On the count of three!" One of the rambunctious guests yelled. "One! Two!" And the dining room went silent.
Bilbo Baggins, being the kind of respectable hobbit he was, scurried around his house to try and prevent any more damage from being committed, with absolutely no help from his cousin, who was deep in conversation with Balin.
"Excuse me! That is a doily, not a dishcloth!" Bilbo called, snatching the object from the dwarf with the tri-pointed hair.
"But it's full of holes." Said the hatted dwarf from where he was leaning on the wall, drinking an ale.
"It's supposed to look like that, it's crochet." The hobbit grumbled, exasperatedly folding the doily in question to place it out of the way, where it hopefully wouldn't be touched by another dwarf.
"Oh, and a wonderful game it is too," Bofur chuckled. "If you've got the balls for it."
An amused snort followed this jest, one determinedly feminine in nature. Bilbo marched over to one of the shelves in his kitchen, deposited the doily and then turned to glare at his cousin, who was leaning towards Bofur in a, most assuredly, far too familiar way.
"And do you have the balls for it?" She teased with a mocking gleam in her eye. Bilbo turned back to set of shelves and seriously considered bashing his head against them.
"Bother and confiscate these dwarves!" He grumbled under his breath, clenching his fist tightly.
"My dear Bilbo," Gandalf's voice came from high about the hobbit's head, as the wandering wizard strode through the kitchen door. "What on earth is the matter?"
"What – What's the matter?!" He cried, following Gandalf. "I'm surrounded by dwarves. What are they doing here?"
Gandalf turned to watch Nori and Bofur argue over a link of sausages, whilst Sorrel swirled a mug of ale behind them.
"Oh, they're quite a merry gathering," Gandalf supplied. "Once you get used to them."
"I don't want to get used to them!" Poor Bilbo Baggins grabbed Gandalf by the wrist and dragged him back into the hall. "The state of my kitchen! There's mud trod into the carpet, they've pi-pillaged the pantry. I'm not even going to tell you what they've done in the bathroom; they've all but destroyed the plumbing. I don't understand what they're doing in my house!"
It was then that his lovely cousin chose to make an appearance again, smoothing down her skirt and her cheeks flushed, a large smile on her face.
"And my cousin!" Bilbo cried. "She's gone mad!"
"No." Sorrel stopped beside him, placing an arm around Bilbo's shoulders. He glared at her and shrugged it off, taking in her disheveled appearance. Her hair, which only just that afternoon had been carefully tucked into a respectable bun for someone of her age, no matter how much she didn't look it, had practically fallen out of its ribbon, wisps and curls falling all about her face. She had a small stain on the corner of her shirt and she held the faint scent of ale about her.
"Have you been drinking!?" Bilbo exclaimed.
"Yes." She replied. "But I haven't gone mad. I simply haven't attended a dwarvish gathering like this in a long time, Bilbo."
"In a long time -"
"Excuse me," said the dwarf with the knitted mittens, shyly grabbing Bilbo's already jumpy attention. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"
Sorrel reached for it, obviously to attend to the dishes, but before she could get there, the handsome young blond dwarf reached over her shoulder and snatched it from the other dwarf.
"Here you go, Ori, give it to me. The lady already made us a lovely dinner," He fixed the woman with a mischievous smile.
And then he tossed the plate down the hall like it was some sort of toy. Gandalf scrambled out of the way just in time, and the other young dwarf, the brunet, caught it with one hand. He flung it around his back and into the kitchen and Bilbo assumed, judging by the lack of shattering, that someone else had caught it.
Sorrel laughed as another plate flew towards her, smiling at the blond dwarf, who sent her a flirty wink as he caught it and tossed it on. Bilbo blanched; his cousin didn't flirt. Then he did it again, for the uninvited dwarves were tossing about his mother's crockery, which she'd gotten as a wedding gift from her own mother.
"Excuse me, that's my mother's West Farthing crockery, it's over a hundred years old!"
As though this was a cue, the blond dwarf grabbed his cousin and twirled her out of the way as Nori and Bofur began rhythmically drumming on the table with their fist and clashing their utensils against one-another.
"And can – can you not do that!? You'll blunt them!"
"Ooooh, d'hear that, lads?" Bofur drawled out, a cheeky smile on his face. "He says we'll blunt the knives."
Sorrel watched with great glee as her cousin frantically ran around the smial like a chicken with its head cut off. The dwarves were far rowdier than he was used to, and he absolutely hated filth in his home, of which there was now an abundance.
She'd been in the kitchen when Bilbo had dragged Gandalf out, ranting about the felonies committed in his abode, getting ready to do the dishes herself, when Bifur had appeared and grumbled something at her. She blinked her large eyes at him, and politely asked him to repeat himself.
The injured dwarf made a shooing motion at her and repeated what he'd said, but louder. It took Sorrel all of two seconds to realize he was speaking Khuzdul and wanted her out of the kitchen.
"Galkhu astu du isbek it-telar. (Good of you to wash the plates)." She replied to the dwarf as she strode out of the kitchen. Bifur gave her a strange look, but filled the wash basin with hot soapy water. She strode out into the hall, where Bilbo had dragged Gandalf.
"And my cousin!" the hobbit cried. "She's gone mad!"
"No." Sorrel stopped beside him, throwing an arm around his shoulders with a cheeky smile. She imagined she was quite a bit disheveled because she could feel her unruly hair against her face.
"Have you been drinking!?" Bilbo exclaimed before she could say anything.
"Yes." Sorrel replied. "But I haven't gone mad. I simply haven't attended a dwarvish gathering like this in a long time, Bilbo."
"In a long time-" Before he could finish, Ori, polite little thing that he was, appeared in one of the doorways with his plate in his knitted mittens.
"Excuse me," the young dwarf said. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"
Sorrel lifted her arm off her cousin and reached for it, intending to take it back to Bifur in the kitchen. Before she could take it, however, a hand appeared over her shoulder and snatched it away. Sorrel turned her eyes behind her to meet the intense blue gaze of Fili, who winked.
"Here you go, Ori, give it to me. The lady already made us a lovely dinner." He fixed her with a mischievous smile. He spun on his heel quickly, and flung it down the corridor like a toy. Gandalf scrambled out of the way just in time, and Kili, the brunet, caught it with one hand just as he came out of the kitchen with his pipe in the other. He flung it around his back and to Bifur, who Sorrel knew was likely still standing at the wash basin.
She laughed as another plate flew into Fili's hands from the dining room, and he sent her another flirty wink as he tossed it to his brother. Bilbo looked a bit horrified at this.
Fili caught another and tossed it, all the while Bilbo Baggins cried out about his mother's West Farthing crockery. And as though this was a cue, Sorrel found her hands snatched up by Fili as he twirled her out of the way. Fili grinned at her while he bounced a bowl off his elbows and sent it flying towards Kili. Nori and Bofur, who were seated at the table, began rhythmically drumming on the table with their fists and clashing the utensils in their hands against one another.
"And can – can you not do that!?" Bilbo called. "You'll blunt them!"
"Ooooh, d'hear that, lads?" Bofur drawled out, a cheeky smile on his face. "He says we'll blunt the knives."
Kili whirled to face the blonde dwarf and gestured for another projectile. "Blunt the knives, bend the forks!"
"Smash the bottles and burn the corks," Fili nodded, bounced another bowl on his elbows and then flung the dish down the hall, narrowly missing Sorrel, who laughed as she ducked.
"Chip the glass and crack the plates," The rest of the dwarves joined in. "That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"
And suddenly dishes were flying everywhere, into Ori's arms, off Dwalin's head, past an exasperated Balin.
"Cut the cloth and tread on the fat, leave the bones on the bedroom mat! Pour the milk on the pantry floor,"
Fili executed an impressive roll beneath his brother's leg, which was propped up on a door frame, to catch a wayward plate that he tossed to Bifur himself. Sorrel, reacting easily to the chaos, rolled a plate across her shoulders and down her arm, flicking it towards the impressed brothers, who vanished into the kitchen.
"Splash the wine on every door! Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl, pound them up with a thumping pole, and when you've finished, if any are whole…. send them down the hall to roll!"
Sorrel felt her hand get snatched up again as someone in the dining room began a jaunty tune on a flute and she was twirled into the blonde dwarf again. She laughed heartily as he led her around the hall in a clumsy dance, dodging the dishes all the while, and he spun her into the kitchen.
She had to duck to avoid a fork which was hurled at high velocity towards Bifur, and leaned against the wall near him, as she struggled not to laugh.
"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" The dwarves yelled, laughing all the while. Bilbo, who had been herded into the kitchen, spluttered at the pile of clean dishes on the table and the sight of his flushed and breathless cousin against the wall.
Three loud echoing thumps resounded against the door, and everyone fell silent, trading looks with one another.
Gandalf broke the silence.
"He is here."
Please review, I'd love to hear what you think. The lovely cover image is by Manoela Costa.