Dealing with Dwarves
Chapter One: An Especially Willful Wizard
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hobbit.
If Bilba Baggins received one more letter of complaint regarding the annual reorganization effort of the Michel Delving Mathom House she was liable to scream and bother the wagging tongues of her neighbours.
As it was she made the executive decision to bypass her mailbox with its little yellow flag ominously upright and instead took herself and her pipe down to the garden bench to sit and take in some of the lovely air and sunshine the Hill had to offer on this particular day.
It was there, sitting quietly and enjoying a bit of a daydream and a full helping of Old Toby in order to relax her nerves, that she first encountered something quite a bit more problematic than the relative importance of mathoms—a wizard.
She knew he was a wizard from the first moment she saw him, and she could make a fair guess at his name too, him being dressed from the tip of his pointy had to the dusty toes of his travel-worn boots in drab grey, with the exception of a singularly soft looking silver scarf. The fact that he was an old man and leaned upon a carven staff was simply more evidence of the truth of the thing.
He stood just outside her gate, looking perfectly out of place in the placid greens and cheerful yellows of the late spring flowers and he was regarding her with a certain amount of expectation.
So, with a growing sense of trepidation Bilba bid him a polite: "Good morning."
"What do you mean?"
She levelled the wizard with an unimpressed look, "What do you mean what do I mean? It was my understanding that one wishes another 'good morning' in order to convey to them a polite hope for a pleasant start to the day, or is that not so for wandering wizards?"
"No indeed," chuckled the wizard, a twinkle in his eye, "There seems to be some exception when the common greeting is used upon wizards for inevitably I have found that when I appear at the front gate of an old acquaintance and they bid me a good morning for which the meaning is quite clearly that they want to be well rid of me and the morning shan't be good until I am on my way."
"Well, how frank of you to say so," Bilba commented, "Unfortunately now I can't help but wonder whether I ought to adopt that sense of it now and save myself the bother of the chat."
"Indeed?" said the wizard his bushy brows disappearing under the brim of his hat, "Now that is hardly polite Mistress Baggins."
"I only mean to tease a bit and well do I think you know it," she said sliding over a bit on her bench and tapped the cushion next to her, "Come now and have a seat then Master Gandalf, I've a bit more Old Toby about if you're of the mind for a pipe."
"Very generous of you," said the wizard, swinging open the gate without even bending for the latch, and settling his long frame on the other end of her garden bench.
Once the wizard was installed with his pipe well-packed and carefully lit with a tiny flame conjured at the tip of his fingers Bilba crossed one leg over the other, leaned back into the solid wood of the bench and fixed Gandalf the Grey with her most expectant look.
"Now Master Gandalf I would be quite interested to know what brings you back around to these parts after so many long years away."
"Nothing so suspicious as all that, my dear," said the wizard, "I am merely looking for a clever and courageous hobbit to share in an adventure."
Bilba frowned, but only slightly as this was about what she had expected, years ago her little sister—being of a more Tookish bent then her boring Bagginsy self—had begged their granther, the Old Took, over and over for tales of the adventures that their ancestors, distant relations, and even their own mother had been dragged off on. Invariably the wandering wizard was the one doing the dragging in such tales.
It was a good thing she had recognized the wizard, he hadn't been around since Bilba had been a fauntling, and the last time she'd seen him had been on Midsummer's Eve lighting up whizzpoppers for Old Took's celebratory party. She's heard that he had been by since then during the Fell Winter, but, well, Bilba could hardly be faulted for having other things on her mind at that time.
"A difficult task to be sure, given the givens. We Shirefolk aren't terribly interested in adventures as a whole, nasty, disturbing and uncomfortable as they tend to be, then of course there's the matter of rationing." Bilba gave a delicate shudder that wasn't entirely feigned and took a fortifying puff of her pipe, "No you would be far better off trying your luck over the Hill or across the Water."
"Perhaps," said Gandalf, pausing to shape his mouth around a darling little smoke moth that fluttered about on the garden wind for a moment, "But unless I am quite mistaken you are indeed just the hobbit I need on this sort of adventure."
"You are quite mistaken," said Bilba, feeling her heart stutter nervously in her chest at the very thought, "Quite mistaken indeed."
"Am I now?"
"Yes," nodded Bilba firmly, "Quite. Honestly I can't understand where you would even come up with such a-a preposterous notion. I beg your pardon but, well, come now, I am a Baggins of Bag End, surely even you can understand why I can't just toddle off into the blue?"
She widened her eyes at him in a way she knew was particularly imploring and worked wonders on her granther and a number of his associates who'd known her since she was toddling about with only the barest fluff on her foot.
"No I most certainly cannot," said Gandalf with not entirely unexpected stubbornness, "You are, after all, the daughter of Belladonna Took and I have seen for myself your spark of adventuresome spirit or do you forget I knew you before you were the respectable Mistress Baggins? You may have changed Bilba Baggins but you have not changed quite so much as you believe, and as I recall you were always eagerly running through the woods in search of elves, coming home hours after dark happily trailing mud and twigs and fireflies."
Bilba huffed out an indignant breath, and drew herself up to her full height, raising one authoritative finger, "Let me make myself perfectly clear, Gandalf, no. I am sorry but I have no need for adventures and have quite enough going on as is thank you very much!"
"Such as?"
"Things, Gandalf!" she said, throwing up her arms, "Duties, responsibilities. I've been selected to chair the Committee for the Annual Reorganization of Michel Delving Mathom House, and granther has me go out to Frogmorton once a month and inspect the bounders holdings there, and of course there are disputes and debates to settle among the Hobbiton families and if Lobelia Bracegirdle gets even a single foothold all the progress I've made between the Proudfoots and the Bolgers will have been completely ruined, and then of course there's my knitting circle and my garden—no, no, absolutely not, even if I wanted to, which in case I was unclear I most certainly do not, I am far too busy."
She nodded her head again sharply as if to say 'and that is that' and took another long puff of pipe smoke to settle herself down, it wouldn't do to be seen losing her temper in the mid-morning sunshine, folks would be calling her Mad Baggins again in a jot and all the work she'd done to polish up her reputation and good name would be completely in vain.
"I do hope you know that Old Gerontius is using you most abominably, my dear, at least a quarter of those duties do belong to the Thain of the Shire, or at the very least his wife."
"Granther is old," said Bilba stubbornly, "He can't keep track of everything by himself so Isengrim, Isenbras and myself all do a most of the running around."
"Admirable to be sure," said Gandalf, "But the Tooks have plenty of family to keep up with the duties of the Thainship, and I have great need of your assistance."
"Assistance," scoffed Bilba, "I hardly think anything in which I have particular expertise will wind up being even remotely useful during an adventure of all things."
"I will be the judge of that, my dear, and I'll thank you to leave me too it."
"I don't think that would be wise, seeing as how I wouldn't want to find myself trotting off towards the horizion with no real notion of how I'd ended up there."
"Now, now, I am not so bad as all that."
"You," said Bilba with uncharacteristic directness, "Are a meddlesome by nature so forgive me if I remain unconvinced."
"Really now Bilba, my dear, you are far too cynical for so young a hobbit, it's most unnatural."
"I prefer the term ruthlessly practical, if you please," said Bilba, unbothered by the grumbling accusation.
"Ruthlessly," agreed Gandalf with some wryness, getting to his feet, "I cannot tarry longer unfortunately as there is much to prepare if we are to keep our schedule. Thank you for the leaf and the seat, for that I will give you some fair warning. I shan't give up, it will be very good for you and between the two of us I have the sense that this venture cannot succeed without you."
"Such dramatics," Bilba said, seeing him to the gate, "Well I will tell you now Master Gandalf that I won't be swayed, though if you should like to come 'round for tea tomorrow you are welcome to do your worst. And a very good morning to you!"
"Til the morrow then Bilba Baggins."
And with a tip of his hat he was striding off down Bagshot row kicking up dust and trailing a plume of smoke like a chimney in high wind.
Bilba shook her head, reaching for her morning letters and pulling a face when she noticed that they were at least half of them formal letters of complaint. Suddenly she wished she'd invited the wizard to stay longer, at least trading barbs and hearing the beginnings of an adventure story would be better than the tedium of writing notes to every Linda, Rosie, and Amaryllis who wanted to know just what she thought she was doing rearranging the items in the Mathom collection.
The latest batch even included a thick document from the Mayor of Michel Delving's awful shrew of a wife who was no doubt stirring things up even as she stood around like a lump not getting things done.
And so it was with her mind firmly off wizards and set to the task of politely pounding some sense into her ridiculous neighbours and relatives—Lobelia would-be-Baggins had sent another missive pretending to be Cousin Otho—because another year of staring at finely painted porcelain cats was just not going to be on the agenda if she had anything to say about it!
AN: SO I know fem!Bilbo AUs are a dime a dozen but I wanted to try my hand at one anyway and here we are, hopefully you find my Bilba original and engaging and if not, well, you can always tell me in a review or a PM I'm always open to suggestions and I'd love to know what you guys think!
I will also provide a full pairing list upon request :)
Til next time,
Berry
