Chapter 1

A Hobbitess' Tale

He wasn't sure what he expected when the door swung open. The home itself had been odd, as all the other ones had been when he passed them on his travel. Mounds and hills hid windows and round doors, and the homes seemed to grow from the ground, under the roots and through the grass. So when he came upon the round green door, found Gandalf's mark, he expected a small, portly fellow. All the other small folk had appeared the same with big feet, curly heads, and stomachs that tipped just beyond the safety of their vests and shirts.

The lass in front of him was nothing like that of her people.

"Dwalin," he introduced himself with an almost breathless grumble, "at your service."

A tick of her slender brow and wariness came into her blue eyes. Even so, she bowed at the waist politely, but her gaze remained nailed to his face. Her curly brown hair was pulled back into a braid that came around her neck and rested just below her collarbone. Her skin was sunburnt and freckled over her cheeks and nose. It was then he noticed the scar that tugged the left side of her face, pulling at her brow and eye into a half scowl. It marred her otherwise pleasant face. Indeed, the little creature was dressed in slacks and a loose dress shirt, and if it was not for the length of her braid and the curve of her hip, he would have mistaken her at first glance for a bloke.

"Bo Baggins," she replied dutifully with a pinch in her voice, "at yours. I beg your pardon, I wasn't expecting visitors." She came away from the door and moved toward him, toward the entrance, and for a moment Dwalin felt as if he should have stepped away. He didn't, but the urge to give the little creature her space was there. She commands a space. She does not intimidate, but it is clear she is not shy. Wary. Curious. Not that it surprised him all that much, it was her home. If the scars were anything to go by, she could defend it, if she wished. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth at the thought of such a small creature wielding a weapon.

"Clearly." Dwalin answered. "I was told there was to be a meeting here." His hand came up to the belt that crossed over his heart, and his fingers gripped lightly. Her gaze flickered over his furred shoulders and then down his arms, before coming back up and over his axes. She assessed him and took a cautious step back. He could see that her muscles grew tense under her light shirt and her shoulders rolled back. Would she fight? Doubtful, she seems more cautious than that. Perhaps she plans to slam the door in my face? Wouldn't that be a sight. He was a bit annoyed with the wizard that he was placed in such an awkward position with the little mistress of the home, but he couldn't help but be amused by her fire.

"A meeting?" She said lightly, a brow ticked to her hairline. "I don't recall – the wizard." She sighed and her eyes closed tightly. Tiny fingers came up and pinched the bridge of her nose. For a moment, her face pulled enough that the scar looked longer and deeper down the side of her face. Her hand came up and waved at him, "I'm sorry, Mister Dwalin, but – I had told the wizard I was to go on no more adventures. I have retired. Finished." Her tone was almost a growl and he could not find the will to blame her, she was disturbed so late into the evening with no warning. Dwalin refused to shuffle in his place from discomfort and instead bluntly continued on to keep her from throwing the door in his face.

"Retired?" Dwalin questioned before he could stop his tongue. Is that where her scar had come from, then? "How does one retire from adventuring?" The creature before him paused and considered her answer before her crooked fingers came up and tapped at her scar. Now that she allowed the attention on her face openly, Dwalin's eyes traveled over the scars for detail. Two long, deep scars that nearly caught the edge of her hairline, ripped through her right brow, and continued down past the corner of her mouth to her chin. Claw marks. Part of her face looked to have settled into a permanent scowl and the other side remained neutral, a pleasant face for a female of her kind, he supposed. Not enough hair, though.

"Mine was an almost permanent retirement. I took the signs given to me and settled." Blue eyes dared him to ask more, but he did not. He swallowed slightly and then cleared his throat. He bowed again, his axes clinking softly behind him. A fire from within, but he wondered briefly if her bravery was only to the extent of her home and the comforts of having a door to hide behind. Whether she took the contract or not would answer that question. Bravery could not stay in the safety of a home, and if she turned skittish on the journey, she would be a burden not only to herself, but to the rest of them. He would have to keep watch on her, for that.

"My sincerest apologies, mistress." Dwalin said softly as he pulled up from his bow, his thoughts now tucked away for later. "It seems we were told less than we expected." At that, her face twisted and her hands came away from her sides and anchored at her hips. The scowl flashed across her features and made the right side of her face turn into a heavy glare.

"We? There are more of you? How many?" Her small and round face morphed into a frown and she stepped forward again, her gaze turned away from him and down the path he had come up, as if expecting more of his kin to appear from the shadows. He debated telling her the number, but decided against it. He was going to leave, and hopefully catch his kin before they came traipsing through the meadows and destroying what peace was left of the night.

"A few," Dwalin relented. "The wizard had told us to come to the Shire, look for a green door with his mark upon it, and that there would be supper." For some reason, he felt ashamed to admit that the call of food had been an allure, aside from the quest itself. The little lass in front of him huffed and shook her curl covered head.

"Promises, promises. Very well, if there are to be more of you, I'm going to need some help." The door swung open further and she gestured with a flick of her wrist for him to come inside. He hesitated over her doorstep, but soon obeyed. Once inside, she closed the door behind him and tightened the length of strings around her shirt, pulling it shut against his eyes or the cold, he wasn't sure.

"Come on," she commanded gently, though he could hear some annoyance in her voice. "If there are to be more of you, and you've come all this way, I'll allow it." Her voice faded as she moved toward the inner halls of her home and Dwalin minded his head as he followed her. "I'll give that wizard a piece or two of my mind when he comes, if he comes. Heavens above, if he's left me with a herd of dwarves to be dealt with on my lonesome, I'll hunt him down myself!"

A small tug of a smile graced the corner of his mouth before he forced it down. What wouldn't I give to see that old badger be put in his place by the likes of you, mistress? She had taken him to her pantry and she inspected it with a critical eye. As he came around the corner, she waved at him and pointed toward his axes, "You can set those in the corner for the moment, by my sword there – yes, by that wall – now come, help me move the table. How many are there of you?" Her small voice twittered sharply like a bird's call and Dwalin had to pull apart her words in his mind.

He went and set his axes along the wall and with a curious eyes, inspected the sword. He knew the make, a short blade, and a buttering knife more like. It had the markings of a Rohirrim smith, but the handle was small and the blade light. Made for her? It seemed unlikely, the leather was worn and old, and though the blade was well-cared for, it had the nicks and notches of having never seen another smith since its making. Beside it stood a long and tall closet, tightly shut and locked. He wondered, now, what other secrets she hid in the darkness of her home.

"Thirteen, mistress. Excluding the wizard and yourself." He finally answered her when he returned. Her blue eyes went wide and then narrowed, her mouth puckering and he could see the line of her jaw clench underneath the sunburnt skin. The little creature was far from happy, but she stood her ground and nodded her head with determination.

"Right. Are they all as tall as you?" She glanced at him again. Dwalin felt himself inhale at her gaze, mightily proud of his size. He shook his head at her and the tension in her shoulders lessened. She smiled at him and blew at a curl that came into her eyes.

"Good. Goodness, I wouldn't know what to do with that much dwarf in my home."

It was almost reassuring to know he wasn't the only one taken by surprise at the sight of the lass. Balin had arrived not long after Dwalin had helped moved the chairs and table to fit the Company that would be coming, and to see his face when Bo Baggins opened the door had been priceless. It was the first time in a long while that he had seen his older brother trip over his words.

Bo had raised an eyebrow and she bowed, allowing him in. When the door was shut, she asked, "I have come to the conclusion that in his invitation to my home, Gandalf had failed to mention that I was either a hobbit, or a hobbit lady."

"Well," Balin cleared his throat after greeting Dwalin. "There is that, yes. When we had, er, heard of the name Bo, we assumed it would be a…"

"Quite right, I would suppose." Bo interrupted lightly, saving Balin from stepping any further into untested waters. They were guests in her home, and Dwalin had no doubts in his mind that she could just as readily herd them out of her den as she could shut her door behind them, now that he had seen the sword and the mentioning of her scars. There was a spit of fire in her actions that left a burn on everything she did. Whether from her ire at having to entertain guests at such a late hour, or she was just naturally molded that way, he could not know. Balin blinked at her response and turned to Dwalin, but all the dwarf could do was shrug.

"If you would be so kind," she started and pointed a crooked finger at her pantry, "as to start removing the food from there and onto the table, I would be grateful." Balin shared another look with his brother at being commanded, but they moved to accommodate her request. Another knock at the door turned her away from studiously watching them work and back to her front porch. Dwalin could hear the door swing open and he wondered for a moment which of the Company it could be.

"She certainly does not hesitate, does she?" Balin murmured quietly to him as he removed a plate of sweetmeats from the pantry shelf. Dwalin snorted lightly, "She seems to have that, yes, but I doubt it will go beyond the borders of her home. There is fear in the unknown."

Balin sighed at that and nodded. "Aye, I would agree. There is a nervousness to her that I sense. I do not know if it be our presence here at her home that makes her so…"

"Balin," Dwalin huffed and shot his brother a sharp glance. "Dwarves we may be, we are still males. I think we would make any woman uncomfortable, even in her own home. She's not one of our kin." Another plate came down from the shelf and Balin chuckled quietly to himself.

"Oh, that is true. Any female of our kind would have us out on our –"

"You must be… Mrs. Boggins?" Dwalin nearly laughed aloud at the confusion that colored the young prince's voice as it drifted down the hallway. The heavy sigh that followed weakened his hold and he chuckled. Balin, too, gave in to laughter and they walked out to spy the sight of two very confused princes in the stern gaze of the home's mistress.

"It's Baggins," she corrected them, "Bo Baggins, if you would be so kind. Set your swords there, against the others, and – watch where you track that mud!" Kíli promptly clicked his feet together and Dwalin could see why. The boy's boots were completely muddy, but the hobbit's sharp eyes had caught him trying to clean them off upon her furniture. Dwalin came up and clapped the boy upon the shoulder.

"You know better than that, laddie." Dwalin scolded him. Fíli and Kíli gave him wide and happy grins, content to forget their things in the grip of their hostess. With a roll of her eyes, Bo resolutely dropped the weapons upon the ground, not giving a care as to where they went. Too right, Dwalin thought, as the boys had just deposited the items into her arms without as much as a care for her person.

"Mister Dwalin!" Kíli greeted cheerily, "Mister Balin!" He said as his gaze found the older brother. "Good to see you once more, and in good health!"

"Hush, boy." Balin ordered with a stern tone. "Set the table, find some chairs. Hurry, before the rest of the Company arrives." It was not to be so, Dwalin feared, as the door's bell rang from outside and Bo frowned. A hand came up to her scar and gently ran down the length of it before she returned to the door.

"If this is some block head's idea of a joke, I'll –" Bo muttered as the door was yanked open. Almost instantly, a wave of dwarves flushed into her home and with a high squeak, she leapt away from the entrance and huddled behind the door for protection. Dwalin snorted a laugh, a lass after all, it seems. She scowled heavily in his direction, more than likely having heard his laughter, but her blue blazing eyes immediately went to the wizard. It gave Dwalin an untold amount of pleasure to see the tall wizard wilt at the sight of her small fury.

"I have half a mind to slice that beard right off your face with my trusty sword for the night you've put me through," Bo threatened, but there was no venom in her tone, only annoyed heat. "And for goodness sake, what happened to taking turns?" She said as she looked down at the pile of dwarves now at her feet. A few of them shuffled and groaned, Bombur, the largest, was over top of them and weighed them down like a sinking rock.

Her only response was Bofur who struggled up from the depths of the bodies, holding up the small rope to her bell.

"This is just how it's going to be, isn't it?"