And there we go! Oh, hold up: I do not have any ownership nor profit in any of this fanfiction of a truly marvelous original concept, "The Hobbit", by J. R. R. Tolkien…..in other words- DISCLAIMED!

Devotions of the Turtledoves

Ori had never seen himself as the stuff of legends. He was a quiet dwarf, as far as such a thing existed, and would pour over old manuscripts and myths of battles, of treatises, and other such ink-laden gems in order to amass a wealth of mind. Should ever the opportunity present itself, he wanted to enter any situation armed with how to best go about it.

Many mistook this for hesitance.

Indeed, he was not always the first into battle, but felt some consideration was due (for all the naysayers' talk, it was he, the scholar, and his kin that were of those that followed their rightful king for the sake of their absconded homeland!) and would countenance a wolfish grin in the occasion offered to test his mettle. Yes, he fought his battles armed with his unique weapons and without reserve.

That, in part, was why he so favored the Miss Hobbit.

It wasn't with any sort of graceful acquiescence when he truly realized he underestimated her such as he had been most of his years. Her fussy nature and wrong-footedness among the fourteen males (well, thirteen mostly; a wizard may never be early, but he can and most often will be incredibly tardy) was a good sight more severe than any social awkwardness he had ever encountered.

Instead, she presented herself with the self-same love of old stories Ori himself was so devoted to. Bluebell Baggins had not the tales of glory and triumph of gleaming treasures, but old adages of good food and laughter. Such stories whose basis could be admired by any good dwarf. Even better, she dared to speak polite conversation to a dragon! Not anything of a dwarf hero, but then not quite to typical hobbit at that.

Many dark and biting nights along the way were warmed with the words between his brothers and the new, good friend they had discovered one blessed evening in that rolling green land.

She is someone he would gladly stand beside, just as she did for himself and his brothers. Their Luck; the fourteenth member of a ragtag group.

Bluebell was loyal enough to follow them through the journey, brave enough to stand against the dreaded drake.

But a dragon is one thing- if only she were not so foolhardy as to steal from an enraged dwarf king!

Bluebell Baggins was fond of a great many things.

A warm hearth, a good story, a fine meal…..and her dwarves who were quickly rising above all such previous devotions. True enough, whenever she was not fearing for her life, she was fearing for her continued sanity (against what many would suppose, she did not blame her mother's influence; it was her father, after all, who was a gentlehobbit of polite society yet found himself gravitating towards such adventurous non-sensibilities! It is one sort of insanity to be born of it, and quite another to follow and to wed into such).

In her father's own fashion, she found herself drawn into dwarfish heyday, and with great partiality to the Ri brothers and their easy inclusion. With Dori's fondness for routine, Nori's inclination to games of deftness and wit, and Ori's love of new knowledge, she found herself with excellent diversions whenever one was available. While any of the crass customs she had been subjected to had a lingering effect of putting her in a tizzy, they never once gave her any reason to feel a smidge less than adored, as opposed to acceptance of not breaking decorum as was found in her beloved Shire.

Again, she loved all her (just so long as she was their hobbit and their burglar, she thought herself justified in naming them hers) dwarves dearly- the worst difficulty being the two lads Fili and Kili reminded her so much of her Took cousins that she grew twitchy with prolonged exposure to their influence. As well as there being the uncomfortable inclination that most jokes bandied about the Company were at someone's expense. Bluebell even learned to join in the raucous laughter, after some practice suppressing the immediate desire to apologize to the heel of the joke.

Though as she watched with trepidation the approach of her gold-foolish, temperamental, wroth dwarf noble of a friend and leader, she thought detachedly that it would have been much preferable to retain some pause before following through on the belief she processed absolutely all potential choices and outcomes.

If Thorin would be so kind as to not throttle her, Bluebell would love the opportunity to explain and apologize profusely.

(but honestly, with her own short experience, expecting Thandruil to be the better diplomat in this was to be as effective as harnessing fish to a chariot would- no; Thorin would be the only one who could set the three communities aright. She sincerely hopes as much)

As Thorin moved to grab her by her cloak, she was just as astonished and worried as Dori and Nori appeared to be when dear Ori made to move between herself and the mighty warrior king.

…..

…..

…..

(years later)

….

Nori was a bit of a cynic. He truly believed in expecting the worst and then becoming pleasantly surprised at the good fortune of the outcome. Dwalin and Dori shared this tendency, though with more than a little mother-henning and a strong tough love approach in regards to precautionary plans.

Which is why he was quite this unsettled with how pleasant things became in such an era of peace and prosperity (so much that he amassed a splendid collection of lucky talismans and the like- always making sure to have three or so at hand for any given occasion).

Here, however, in his wedded-sister's house, he knew he could set aside his mantle of pessimism and delight in the dwobbit cries of "Uncle Nori!" in a soft-soled stampede (those magnificent little imps so sure of the collective ability to wheedle gifts and trinkets from him, if he could but ply them with some stories to lead them down a nimble-fingered mindset….).

He observed from the corner of his eye a besotted Dori under the whims of tyrannical instructions given by the youngest in a toddler's baby babble. Nori also espied Ori and 'Bell by the fireplace, looking cozy as a pair of turtledoves and sweet enough to miss that the better part of two decades had passed since the courtship had begun.

Ah, well- the Company will be attending a feast by the sweethearts this evening. Old harms and new adventures are set to be shared by ale and porter and there's no better place to sit and hear a wondrous, ponderous tale than by the Master Scribe and his Storyweaver Bride.

Should yourself be so fortune-blessed as to have received an invitation, follow the sounds of merriment and invite yourselves in for an evening of fine comfort and a grand tale.

End

Eh, not crazy about the title. Anyways, I am a huge devotee of fem!Bilbo and subsequent Bagginshield, but got struck by a mind tickle some hours back and was struck by an intense need to share warm adoring fluff such as these like-minded two could potentially create. Mostly, I was feeling rather wrung out about when it came to Thorin being lambasted for his –singular yet repetitive instance of- gold sickness and the subsequent injury and forgiveness of the adorable little hobbit (of whom I should probably feel some guilt for so often envisioning as a lady. Bah.) The line of Durin's failing is a huge part of the canon, but it pains me seeing even a fictional character repeatedly suffer from the same mistake.

So- this is a one-shot, I am not a strong writer, and I may potentially do short perspectives elsewhere but would only ever accounted as being a stronger proofreader than ever reliably supplying a story of a respectable length all by my lonesome. I do not expect nor plead for reviews for a less than 5k-word story, but if you intend to flame, please write your own version; I'd adore you forever if you honored me by improving upon open ideas and had created a lovely story for something that interests others. I hope you enjoyed and that you have a lovely Easter weekend.