One: A Took's Life I May Lead
Rolling hills of emerald green marked the beginnings of the Shire. Deep in the west, just past Bree but before the Blue Mountains, this land hide and there lived hobbits. Now hobbits were some of the small folk. They were shorter than dwarves but slight in build. Their ears held faint points, and their hearing and sight were greater than humans during the day but their eyes became equals at night.
Hobbits had a perchance in wearing no shoes and the males possessed their beards on their feet instead of their chins. Hobbit feet, while no larger than what would be expected, were tougher than the other races of the world. The only times a hobbit might wear shoes was on extremely long travels through less than comfortable terrain.
Now-a-days such travels have long ended. These small folk, once nomadic, now very rarely travel beyond the Brandywine River. The ones that do, rarely travel far beyond it either.
Hobbits are considered simple folk who love the simple things in life and have certainly never lived a day of hardship. Hobbits live a sheltered life where good food, good company, and a good deal of merrymaking is the only things on their mind.
The only negative aspect of hobbits is their infernal insistence on being overly wary of strangers (and this was only negative in respect to the strangers). Anything even slightly queer is not respectable for a hobbit to be involved with. Conversing with strangers, in-ordinary number of visits to family more than a day away, sleeping past noon, skipping any of the six standard meals a day, and going on adventures are just a few of the unrespectable things a hobbit could do.
Of course, hobbits also lose some respectability by who they are related to. A little unusual, and admittedly very particular to an outsider, is the insistent claims that being related to the Took clan is a no-no, for instance. The Took clan is very large, very wealthy and the head was the Thain (equivalent to King at this point in history though no Hobbit would agree on that assessment) of the Shire. The Thain is a very respectable position. Yet to be a Took meant trouble.
Tooks' went on adventures. Tooks' made up the majority of the Shire's meanger military. Tooks' were queer as any hobbit could be.
What made matters worse were who the Tooks associated with. Big folk could be seen going to and from the great Took smial no matter the season. Sometimes a big folk would even go visit one of the Took clan living in a perfectly acceptable part of the Shire where such things didn't happen.
One of the worse associates of the Took family was a wizard. Few of the Shire folk realized that this wizard was the real deal, though. He was only really known for two things: His fireworks, which were both queer and grand, and so there were a great number of Shire folk loudly complaining about them but clearly enjoying them all the same; and his perchance in stealing away perfectly respectable lads and lasses, and having them go off into the blue for mad adventures.
Sadly, to the disgruntlement of all in this particular part of the Shire, the wizard came visiting another such young hobbit.
Llorabell Baggins was considered a well-to-do hobbit lass who had just recently reached the appropriate age for courting. She had lovely golden curls that rested at the respectable length of just below her shoulders, wore a lovely brown and teal dress with a proper hemline at mid shine, and the respectable number of petticoats underneath. The proper embroidery - indicating her eligibility, family and such - was elegantly done across her sleeves and dress' hemline. Her undnum (charms every lass possessed) were attached to a finely weaved golden anklet that rested on her right ankle. Its gold glittered in the morning light reminding all that she came from a respectable, wealthy family. All in all, she was a proper, respectable Baggins.
Llorabell Baggins of Bag End was contently gardening in the crisp spring morning, listening to the whispers of her plants to make sure she was caring for them properly, when she was quite abruptly interrupted by someone loudly clearing their throat. Looking up from her careful trimmings of her herb garden, the only part of the garden she did herself, Llorabell found herself staring up even further to properly see the strange big folk standing at her mailbox. Slowly standing up, the little hobbit lass stared a moment longer before remembering her manners and greeting the strange, elderly man. "Good Morning."
"What do you mean?" responded the big folk, "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"
Llorabell Baggins could not be blamed for the dumbfounded expression that crossed her face. Rude as it might be, any hobbit would have been most dumbfounded, indeed. Very few of them would have found their voice quiet as quickly as the hobbit lass did as she said back with mildly bemusement. "All of them, I suppose."
The disgruntled look the strange elderly man sent at her response made her wonder if she should have chosen only one of the options. "uhh, well sir..." Llorabell glanced around helplessly before saying, "Is there something I can do for you?"
His face cleared of any disgruntlement and he nodded decisively, "Yes. I am looking for someone to share an adventure with."
"Oh." The little hobbit looked thoroughly startled at this revelation. "Well I...You see..." She became pinked at the cheeks as she struggled to find a response to the big folk. "Have you the wrong house? Perhaps... Perhaps you meant to go find someone over the hill or across the river?"
She stepped hurriedly over and pulled the mail from her box. A quick nod and another "Good Morning" had her hurrying back towards her round, freshly painted green door.
"To think I would see the day I am Good Morning'ed and not recognized by Belladonna Took's daughter."
Llorabell jerked back towards the strange old man in surprise. He had known her mother? She took a moment to stare harder at the man, trying to place his face but all she got was a vague sense of excitement that she hadn't felt in many years.
"Bilbo Baggins, I am Gandalf and Gandalf is Me." Silence stretched across them at that statement. The expectant look on Gandalf's face fell to one of annoyance as the hobbit lass just stared in shock at him. "I came here expecting the girl that was always running off looking for elves and the big folk in the forest. What I find instead is most disappointing."
Llorabell felt her breath knocked out of her. Her mind wasn't able to pay any attention to what the old man was saying. She hadn't heard anyone call her Bilbo in years. She used to insist on everyone calling her by that name, desperate for adventure.
All Took women were given a second, male name at birth. Its sole purpose was to allow them to go out on adventures without the danger of anyone knowing that they were women. It was a tradition that originated from their wandering days when it had been even more dangerous to be a female. Most hobbit families had dropped the tradition now. Only some of the great families like the Tooks and Brandybucks kept to it. Bilbo was the name her father chose after it became apparent Belladonna would continue the tradition whether he wanted it or not.
Llorabell had spent her childhood being called Bilbo. She had only stopped all that nonsense after the Fell Winter. After she watched, hidden, as the goblins tore her parents apart. She stopped wanting anything to do with adventures after having to listen to those screams, after watching the goblins eat them raw and still alive during part of it.
"No, no." Gasped Llorabell, her voice thick and honey colored eyes gleaming at the memories that name forced forth. "You got the wrong hobbit! I don't do such things anymore. I haven't for years. I-I'm most respectable now!"
Gandalf humpered softly to himself before nodding to some internal thought, "That decides it. I will tell the others." The hobbit shook her head at the elderly man as she quickly headed to the door with another "Good Morning". He called after her, "It will be good for you and most amusing for me."
With that Llorabell fled into her house, heart pounding in faint terror. An adventure! She had long since stopped thinking such silly thoughts. She was a respectable hobbit now. Llorabell shook her head to rid herself of any thoughts on the strange occurrence. She had things to get done today.
The little hobbit quickly wandered through her smial, which has had a Baggins living in it since its existence and showed its age by all the antiques and mess of objects filling its shelves. The entire interior of the smial was done up with rich woods, warm colors, vibrant tile across the floors and a surprisingly large window in every room of the underground home. There was not an empty wall but it felt more cozy and welcoming then cluttered with its many coat hooks by the front door and many chairs spread across each room. This was a home for a large family and many friends. It was a place that screamed welcome to all.
Once in the kitchen the little hobbit quickly pulled a pot from the fire and then stilled. "Oh I forgot my herbs!" Rushing quickly back outside, though not before checking through one of the windows to make sure that Gandalf fellow was gone, Llorabell picked up her basket of herbs and looked through her pile to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything.
"Miss Baggins are you quite alright?" There standing by her mailbox with his sun hat on his head and grass stains already covering his hands and knees was Hamfast Gamgee, her young tween gardener.
"Oh yes, yes I am. Just forgot my herbs. Mrs. Cotton requested some eglantine tea and Mr. Proudfoot needs some more aspen cream. He keeps getting those awful headaches." She carefully clipped a few more of the pink roses to add to her basket.
Hamfast nodded in understanding before saying, "So that big folk didn't do you any harm?"
Llorabell paused at that, "Well he gave me quite a scare, I must admit. That Gandalf fellow went off about an adventure of all things!"
"Gandalf?!" Llorabell looked up with a start. Hamfast sounded absolutely distraught. "Was he truly Gandalf, the wizard who brings those fireworks here every few years?!"
"Oh!" Gasped Llorabell, a vague memory of hitting the old man with a wooden sword came to mind. "That's how I knew him. I mean he spoke of my mother but I couldn't remember anything about the man." She smiled in relief as she trimmed some rosemary, "It's a relief, knowing where I had heard of him before... Those were very good fireworks but I wonder why he decided to scare me over talking about adventures?" Llorabell shook her head, happy to assume it had been all a great misunderstanding. She would have happily help the poor man with his fireworks; that was an acceptable adventure to have. "I'm surprised he's still in business." Looking up at Hamfast Gamgee made her think twice.
He looked devastated, more so than before. Finally he spoke up, "My dear Llorabell. You don't remember the saying about him, do you?"
The little hobbit lass felt her stomach drop. "Saying?"
Hamfast nodded helplessly at her before he recited a familiar poem, "When that wizard, gray, comes down the lane.
Hide away, Hide away.
For he comes to claim one of us quiet folk
for an adventure to somewhere far away.
And whether you want to or not you will soon be gone from home."
Llorabell felt herself grow rather ill as her gardener finished reciting the saying, one she had never really paid much attention to. Whatever was she going to do? "I can't go on an adventure!"
Her gardener gave her a sad look and answered, "Perhaps you should go talk to one of your Took relatives on the matter. If you get together the items for the Cottons and Proudfoots, I can take them for you. The sooner this is all figured out the better."
She nodded. "It will take me half an hour to finish things up here. Thank you."
Hamfast nodded, "I'll go collect a jennet for you. Who knows how much time you have."
With a quick thanks, Llorabell rushed off in a daze. An adventure of all things! Whatever was she going to do on an adventure?
After finishing up with her herbal remedies, Llorabell prepared for her trip to visit her uncle Isengar. It would only take the rest of the morning on a Jennet but she would have to get food and such for the trip. It wouldn't do to miss second breakfast.
The last item the little hobbit grabbed was a small dagger that had once been her mother's and had been given to her that night when she had been forced to hide. Her mother told her to keep it for defense, obviously only for that night but Llorabell came to always take it with her when she went anywhere beyond the market in Hobbiton. It wouldn't really be of much use in a fight but she felt mildly safer with it.
Llorabell traded the remedies for the reins of the hybrid and a lift up onto the seat. Then she was off down the lane, her thoughts a mess of terrible fantasies. It was the third shouting of her name that broke her deeply depressing thoughts.
"Miss Llorabell where are you off to?" The hobbit lass looked to the side and found Wilcome Cotton standing, staring helplessly up at her. A thing of wild flowers were clenched in his hands. Llorabell felt mildly bad for him but only a little as she had never intended to pursue whatever it was Wilcome was hoping for.
"I'm off in a hurry to see my Uncle, Mister Wilcome." She called and firmly ignored the answering call asking when she would be home. She had more important things to worry about then unofficial courting proposals today. The little hobbit lass continued down the dirt lane, past the wheat fields, the little ponds of the Proudfoots, through Hobbiton's market and on, past many emerald green hills.
Far too soon Llorabell found herself being guided through the great Took smial to a study where Uncle Isengar was relaxing. The elderly hobbit smiled warmly, laugh lines growing deeper, but quickly closed his book at her distraught appearance. "My dear Bell, whatever is the matter?"
It was like a dam broke within her. It took only a few moments to explain why she was there but many more minutes for her hysterics to calm. By then her cousin (and acting Thain) Fortinbras and his wife Lalia had joined them in the study.
The two had recently bonded, if she recalled the matter correctly, and Fortinbras was new in his position of Thain. They both looked the part of respectable, wealthy hobbits. Their clothes were in proper order and their curly, honey and chestnut hair (respectively) was carefully groomed. They both were older than Llorabell but not middle aged yet. She was decently certain they had a son by now. Though they weren't elderly, they were still more worldly than her and Llorabell welcomed any advice.
"Well there's nothing to it but to get everything prepared." Said Isengar more firmly and determined then Llorabell wanted to hear. Couldn't he have consoled her by saying that it really had been all a misunderstanding?
"Did the old wizard tell you when he'd be by to collect you?" Asked Fortinbras as he thoughtfully began writing some list across a spare paper.
Llorabell shook her head, too frustrated and shocked by the casual acceptance by her Took relatives. It had been too long since she had been with them. She had truly taken up her Baggins lifestyle.
Fortinbras nodded in understanding, "Well we'll just have to act like he'll be back any day." He rose after taking one last look over his list. "I'll have Adalgrim get all your traveling gear together. Lalia would you be a dear and ask one of the bounder captains to spread the word for everyone to keep a lookout for Gandalf. That should give our Bell time to make it home before he shows to pick her up." He turned back to Llorabell and smiled kindly at his little cousin. "Do you remember how to throw daggers still? We don't really have time to teach you much about swordplay and it would be better for you to know a distance weapon."
Llorabell shook her head and whispered a shameful, "No".
When she had reached her first decade of life her mother had brought her here for the traditional teaching of the Took. She still retained many of the songs, plant knowledge, how to setup a fire and even how to gut a rabbit but after the Fell Winter she had pushed anything to do with adventure away - including her heritage, her family. Sitting here now and seeing them outside a mandatory celebration, after so many years, was strange but it was clear that they had understood why she did what she had. Or at least they didn't take offense when they should have.
"Best go practice, then," ordered Isengar, "I'll go talk with one of the ladies to work with you later." The elder groaned softly as he pushed himself up with his cane.
"With what?" asked Llorabell as she also rose, stepping to his side incase he needed any aid.
"With your appearance," he explained, "You can't go running off claiming a male name but looking like a girl. Defeats the point."
Llorabell blushed, "Oh."
"Come along Bell, I'll get you to the bounder field. I know just the person that can help you practice," Said Fortinbras warmly.
The little hobbit lass followed her older cousin out to the fields. There were a few bounders going through training with both bow and sword. None appeared to be working with daggers.
"Jathen!" Shouted Fortinbras as he strolled across to the archery range. Llorabell followed quickly, trying to watch all the training at the same time.
One of the bounders jogged after them. "Sir?" Asked Jathen, a hobbit with the rare deep red hair color and the equally rare straight hair texture. He probably had all the lasses in the area swooning over him.
"I need you to work with my cousin, Llorabell, on dagger throwing. If she does well enough let's have her try out axe and galurim throwing." Llorabell started slightly at the wink the red head shot her when Fortinbras turned to look at her during his explanation. "Bell." She turned sharply over to her cousin. He smiled reassuringly at her. "You'll get the hang of this. Tomorrow we'll go over the basics on swords but still focus mostly on the throwing blades."
Llorabell nodded helplessly. She didn't want to know any of this. All she wanted was to go back to Bag End and enjoy a quiet evening by her hearth. But she didn't have a choice and she would be a fool to not do everything she could to prepare.
Jathen was skilled at refreshing Llorabell on how to handle the throwing knives even if he did so a little too close. As the sun began to set Llorabell found her aim was good enough to hit the target each time at ten paces. The knives didn't always hit the center of the target but she didn't totally miss.
Another of Llorabell's older cousins, Heather daughter of Uncle Isembold, came to take her to supper. There the Baggins hobbit saw many of her Took kin and was regaled with tales of adventure and advice for her travels ahead. Songs of old, from the time of wandering and in their own secret tongue, was sung for her. They were both blessings and given as refreshments to remember herself. Their songs held power after all.
Hobbits were believed to be simple folk and that was true. They were thought to be suspicious people and that was equally true. Everyone knew that hobbits were related to men but that was a lie. It was common knowledge that hobbits only spoke the common tongue of western man and that was equally wrong.
Of course, if one of the big folk came up and asked a hobbit, said hobbit would simply confirm the lies as truth. There was just somethings outsiders shouldn't know. Every race had their secrets but the hobbits of old knew one important truth that the other races ignored (and it was a truth that the hobbits held to, to this day). Secrets aren't safe if everyone knows about them. Just look at the dwarven tongue and how many elves and men knew at least some of it.
So hobbits lied and still lie about their past and their culture. No one knew the truth of the hobbits. Because of that, no one knew of the second adopted children of Iluvatar.
Llorabell closed her eyes as one of the oldest songs were sung, a song of their creation.
"On the eve of their bonding
Beloved Yavanna and Strong Aule
Wrought us in love..."
They were gifts. The hobbits had been created together by both Aule and Yavanna on the eve of their wedding. They were made from earth and plant, a combination of all the two Vala stood for. When the two Vala bonded, Iluvatar gifted the hobbits life and they become the earth children, children of the ground and the plants. And with all his children, they were given a gift all to themselves.
Hobbits were gifted the ability to have a bond as close as their creators. Hobbits didn't canoodle because the simple act of sex between them and another person led to their souls bonding together for the rest of their days and beyond. They would never have such a connection with another person after that first. That didn't mean the hobbits couldn't live without the other consistently in their life or in their life at all. A hobbit could bond themselves with a person they never saw again in this life and live happily. It was a simple fact that the soul bonding gave depth to a relationship that no other could have.
Some hobbits become so close to their bonded that their minds connect on a similar level to their souls. Those hobbits could speak to each other without speaking out loud. Becoming a mindwhisper meant that your relationship with your bonded was as close as it would ever be. There were other aspects, like being able to find your bonded no matter where they were and knowing if they are hurt or not, that all hobbits gained with their bonding.
There were stories of other aspects a bond could have, depending on the situation. Llorabell didn't know if any of them were real. Gaining a longer life, as one story claimed, seemed far fetched at best. Though the life of Old Took indicated that there might be some truth to the stories.
Besides the gift from Iluvatar, Aule and Yvanna gave their children their own gift. Hobbits knew the tongue of the earth, the language of the plants and ground, the words of rock and trees whispered across the land. It was a gift that would never fade.
The elves had once been able to hear the trees. Families of dwarves used to hear the echoes of precious stones and metals in the earth. But those abilities had faded with time. The elves stopped listening and the familial gift had faded to near non-existence amongst the dwarves.
Hobbits grew up hearing the tongue from their kin and from the world around them. They would always know it. With the language the hobbits could speak to the plants and earth. It was how the Shire was so prosperous. The hobbits had the very plants and ground telling them how to care for it.
In turn, the little folk were able to call out for help. Their plea might not always be answered though. In winter the earth and plants slept, and so if they called for aid the earth may not answer in time, if at all. Some plants and minerals of the land choose never to aid them. It was a plea for aid not a command, after all.
All the same, the language of the hobbits was hidden in fear of what the other races would do if they found out. Would humans be able to even ask the earth for help or would the words not be heard? What if orcs learned the tongue and the earth listened to their call? No, there were very good reasons to hide their language.
The language could be destructive in the wrong hands but it gifted them with a way to protect themselves. Hobbits were not fighters, no matter how many years they spent working their skills with the blade or bow. Their bodies were too small and light for the type of fighting common amongst the rest of the world. So hobbits learned to use their language to help with this disadvantage.
Songs in their tongue gave power, whether it hide the hobbits from warg and orc or boasted the sharpness of their blades. That night Llorabell was told much loved songs and songs she had never heard. She learned songs for hiding, songs to keep her aim true, songs to heal, songs to move the very earth, and songs to boost the spirits of all who heard. These were songs that she may need on her adventure.
The next day Llorabell was given the basics on a sword fighting style and then was taken by Jathen to learn how to throw axe and galurim. The axe throwing was similar to dagger throwing but Jathen took each chance to get close to her. Llorabell was beat red by the time Jathen was done guiding her through the throwing motions, multiple times over. She was quite certain he didn't need to press right up to her back and hold her hips like he did but Llorabell didn't really know what to do about it.
Luckily Fortinbras and Adalgrim appeared and the forward redhead became very scarce. Llorabell happily ignored the grumblings about personal space from her older cousins as Jathen was gone and it didn't matter now.
With one last glare over at the retreating back of said redhead, Fortinbras opened a case he had brought and pulled out a circle of metal. It wasn't flat metal though. The inner part was thicker than the outer and the outer was slightly sharpened.
"Do you know anything about galurims, Bell?" Asked Fortinbras as he handed the circle of metal to Llorabell and pulled out two more.
The hobbit lass shook her head slowly as she slid her hands over the weapon. "I only know that these were used during the years of wandering." Llorabell tightened her hand around the metal ring and hefted it up higher, getting used to the weight.
Adalgrim spoke up as he took a pair out of the box also, "These are used as both long distance and short distance weapons. We wear chained gloves to handle the sharpened versions, these are just for practice but are sharp enough to do great damage when thrown."
"Watch." Ordered Fortinbras before he twisted his body in a slight circular motion and threw the circle. The blade sliced straight through the hay target's right side before slamming into an upright position in the ground. Its metal gleamed in the sun, peeking up amongst the grass.
"Don't throw these like a dagger or axe. You don't have as much control that way, nor do you get as much distance." Explained Adalgrim as he stepped up and slowly went through the throwing motion. Fortinbras guided Llorabell to the side and with a nudge of his foot on hers slowly got her in the correct stance.
After a couple hours and a short break for afternoon tea, Llorabell was finally asked to try throwing one. She twisted in the proper circular motion and let the galurim fly. The little hobbit lass fell onto her bum and stared at the galurim laying just a few feet away. It certainly could have gone better.
Llorabell glared at her laughing cousins. "You oafs, leave our Bell alone." The three hobbits looked over to the newly arrived hobbit. Heather had her hands on her hips as she somehow glared down her nose at the much taller males. The brunette turned suddenly towards Llorabell, her brown curls bouncing as she said with a cheerful smile. "Bell we've got your gear ready for your adventure. I thought this would be a good time to test out the male attire."
It was an hour later that found Llorabell Baggins of Bag End, a perfectly respectable hobbit lass and considered quite a catch by the majority of Hobbiton, staring into a full length mirror and seeing a very pretty male staring back at her. Heather had helped her learn the best and most comfortable way to bind her chest and abdomen to make her both flat and slightly broader in appearance. Her lovely curves were hidden underneath multiple layers of bandages and over that was three layers of clothing and armor.
She had a simple tunic then a layer of thick leather and then another, heavier and thicker made tunic on top. She had leather trousers that went all the way to her ankles, which was strange as hobbits generally wore shorter pants to keep the mud (which could be very high on a hobbit) from covering them. The outer tunic was longer than normal for a male outfit but was slitted on the sides to allow ease of movement.
"I look like a pretty boy." Grumbled Llorabell. This wasn't going to work. "I don't even have any foot hairs like a male should!"
Heather laughed warmly as she dropped something down by Llorabell's feet. "We'll have to cut your hair I suppose but no one's going to notice your feet."
Llorabell stared down at the items her cousin had dropped. Shoes. Llorabell carefully poke one of the black boots with a toe. "What are these?"
"Uncle Isengar insists that you use them."
"Shoes."
Heather shrugged helplessly. "He seems to think that you'll need them. Some of the bounders have to wear shoes when they go through the marshes and such. They're a bit uncomfortable but when you don't know what you're walking on, you'll be glad you have them."
Llorabell slowly picked one of them up. They were black with multiple brass buckles set to keep the boots secure. There wasn't a major sole, the shoes were very flat in fact. It had a layer of stiff, thick and textured leather for the sole. The interior was covered with fur everywhere but the bottom which looked to have a layer of soft, thick leather. The tip of the boots toe was covered in metal that was bent to a slight pointed angle."Did he say why?"
"Something about weather and terrain and needing more grip or something. I wasn't paying too much attention." Llorabell made a noise in the back of her throat before sitting down and pulling the boots on. After a bit of fussing, the two hobbit lasses agreed that the boots probably should go over the pants and her charm anklet would best stay where it was.
The boots weren't terrible. They were warm and heavy. She felt restricted in them, though they technically didn't affect her movement. The most disconcerting aspect of boots was the restriction of her toes. She was used to moving them, digging into the soft dirt with them. But if her uncle wanted her to wear shoes like a Stoor then she would. She wouldn't be happy about it but she would wear them.
Last Heather hesitantly handed Llorabell an oddly shaped metal piece. It's shape was curved almost like a bowl but somewhat pear shaped. "Its a..uhh..." Heather waved her hands about helplessly as she stared at Llorabell. "You put it..." The brunette sighed heavily before she spoke in a rush, a blush swallowing her face, "It's to give you the look of a boy... for your crotch area."
Llorabell flushed red and the metal cup fell with a loud clank. After a few minutes of blushing and stuttering the two rather innocent lasses finally got the metal cup situated.
Everything fell into place once Heather cut her hair short like a proper male hobbit. Llorabell could start believing that she was a male. She was still prettier than males but she would pass as one all the same.
Llorabell found herself running around learning how to use throwing axes and daggers, and galurims while dressed as a male the rest of the week. She was given refreshers and training on skinning and gutting animals, herbal remedies her skills of a trainee healer had not yet taught her, making fires that would give no smoke, how to walk in shoes without making a sound, and anything else they could think to teach her in the short amount of time there was.
Gandalf was spotted almost a week and a half later. So after second breakfast Fortinbras and Adalgrim led their little cousin to the small armory. While it was small the walls and racks were filled with weapons. Some were old and some were new. All of them were sized for a hobbit.
There Llorabell was gifted a matching set of daggers, throwing axes, and twin galerims. They were old but still in good condition. They all had similar wind like swirled designs and the words "Swift Return" in the earth tongue, Moar Evunal, engraved across the flat of the blades. There was also a set of small, odd runes on each weapon's handle which the leather wrap covered partly (or in the case of the galurims, right under the earth script). A set of fingerless gloves with metal mesh covering the palm side of the gloves and a plate, with the same wind like swirls and words inscribed across it, rested on the back of her hands.
Adalgrim gave her leather created to cover the decorative plate of the gloves, making them plain at a glance. "These blades were created with the help of a dwarf during the wandering days." He said softly as he helped secure the gloves onto her hands.
Fortinbras secured the throwing axes at her right thigh (five in total), her long tunic covering them as he added, "It is said that if you hear the voices of the metal you can call the blades back to you with a simple shout of Moar Evunal."
"Really?" Asked Llorabell as she flexed her hands, getting used to the heavy gloves.
The earth language of worked metal and stone was as twisted as they were from their original form. It was like a heavy accent, difficult to understand. She had never heard the call or song of any wrought metal in her possession but tales spoke of weapons becoming light as air or always reaching the intended target once their owner could hear their voice and use the shared language.
Adalgrim secured two daggers in her left boot and another in her right. "The story says our great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandmother became dear friends with a skilled dwarven smith during one of the early wars of the second age. One day she found metal that sang to her of what it could become. She took the metal to her friend and he crafted these blades from it and is the only dwarf, or any non-hobbit to ever learn anything about our language."
The Thain handed Llorabell a simple leather belt with three throwing daggers, her mother's dagger, and the twin galurims attached by their sheaths to it already. "Don't place it on your waist, a bit below it. We don't want any hint of your curves showing through." Fortinbras hummed softly as he helped adjust the belt to the right place. "The story also says that the dwarf was courting our grandma. It says that these were a courting gift."
Llorabell took the last dagger, its sheath was tied to a leather thong made to be secured around her neck, hidden at her back underneath all her clothing. "So we have dwarf blood in us?"
"No..." Adalgrim paused as he looked Llorabell over with a critical eye. "He died in a war. Grandma was fairly old when she finally bonded, was thought of as a spinster by then - if you recall."
"Oh! That grandma?" Llorabell looked down in wonder at her weapons. That grandma had been considered a very skilled and good Took. She had only bonded later in life after all her brothers had died without children to carry the Took name. She was one of the many Tooks the other hobbits would have heart attacks over these days. Hobbit lasses don't stay unbonded for long once they're at the courtable age. It just wasn't done. The blond lass looked up at the other weapons in the room. "Do others have stories to them?"
"Ah, well yes. Most of the older weapons are from the wandering days and many of the newer ones are from our adventures." Adalgrim pulled out a larger knife, its handle was shaped to resemble a horse. "Your mother got this from Rohan when she aided the King and his family many years ago."
Llorabell carefully took it. It was heavier than any blade she had held yet. She experimentally held it up in a fighting stance before shaking her head and handing it back. The training she had gone through over the last week or so had proven that Llorabell didn't really have the ability to use a sword well. Her skills lay in the throwing weapons. She could now hit bulls eye at fifteen paces and had gained some skill in hitting a moving target when she was taken to hunt rabbits. Llorabell could now properly throw the galurim ten paces but her aim was nowhere near perfect.
She had also been given a few hours everyday towards using the galurim blades in short distant fights. The focus was more towards defense and getting away than anything else but it was useful all the same. Her dear cousins had prepared her as well as they could with the time they had. If she survived this adventure of Gandalf's, Llorabell wasn't sure whether she would continue training with her blades or try to forget it all and curl up by the hearth. The hearth sounded so very appealing.
Lalia and Heather took Llorabell back to her rooms to go through her pack. There was a sleeping roll, a bevorin (a traditional thin metal disk used for cooking during the wandering years, usually highly decorative in appearance but good for cooking fish), three pairs of extra inner and outer tunics, two more pairs of pants, an extra pair of boots (though lighter in construction), three fishing hooks of various sizes, a wooden rod to both keep structure to the traveling bag and built to be pulled out for fishing, a sharpening stone for the blades, a metal bowl for both eating from and cooking in, a smaller metal bowl for drinking and cooking, a set of utensils, a small manual of variations in healing plants and their names throughout middle-earth, three water skins, and various healing creams and herbal remedies. Most of the healing items Llorabell recognized from her trainings in healing (something she had taken up as more of a pastime than a true profession but was fairly skilled at it all the same). There was a number of healing concoctions Lalia had to explain, though.
"This is for deep wounds, made from ash and the groven tree, it helps cleanse the wounds from inflictions." Explained Lalia as she set the jar of minty green paste down before picking up one of two large packs of what looked to be tea bags. "This is errose tea. You will need to take some once a week till the bag is empty then you have to wait two weeks before starting up on the tea again. This will keep you from having your monthlies but it can become dangerous for you if you don't have that two week break after six months. At that point you'll have your monthly and it's going to be a very bad one."
Llorabell look quessy at that. "Why would I-"
"You don't want to deal with a monthly when traveling and, anyway, you're supposed to be a boy. It also supposedly helps keep you from getting pregnant." Lalia hummed for a moment before picking up two tea bags and a piece of folded paper, separate from the large bags of tea bags. "Fortinbras said you had a dagger around your neck. Pull it out." Llorabell did so and watched as Lalia carefully secured a fishing hook to the loop of leather and then attached the tea bags and folded paper to it. "If you lose your pack you'll have two weeks to collect all the ingredients to make more tea." Explained Lalia. "Don't lose these and your pack, now."
"Thank you," muttered the blond hobbit.
Heather picked up one last item and helped Llorabell pull it on. "There now you look ready with your wanderer's cape and all."
Llorabell stared at herself. Now she looked vaguely like a bounder with her deep, forest green cape — nearly identical to the capes the bounders wore though theirs was in brown and didn't have copper buttons... Or a hood attached since they had hats with their feathers denoting rank to wear instead.
Lalia handed over a case with material for embroidering. Baggin's copper wire and spring green thread lay next to the silver wire and deep red thread of the Took clan. A few other complementary colored thread lay beside them. A wanderer's cape told the stories of its owners travels after all. Llorabell would embroider across the bottom hem and slowly make her way around the entire edge until a full circle was made. Llorabell carefully packed the case into her bag before glancing back at the mirror.
She looked ready for an adventure but she didn't feel ready. Llorabell finally took a deep, calming breath and hefted her traveling pack onto her back. It was heavier than anything she had ever carried before. She'd have to get used to it. It was time to go home and meet Gandalf.
Outside Llorabell declined a jennet for the way home. The thought of all hobbiton seeing her dressed like this was not entertaining in the least. No, she would take the back way through the fields so less of Hobbitons respectable folk would see her.
Llorabell turned back to the great Took smail's entrance and smiled waterly at her kin. Lalia, Heather, Fortinbras, Uncle Isengar, Adalgrim and a few other Tooks gave her hugs and then, almost as one, they spoke in the earthen tongue.
"All that glitters is not gold
All that is precious is not metal
A heart holds dear all that matters
May your heart guide you home"
The hobbit of Bag End blinked back tears. Before responding in turn, "Till next we meet, whether in the fields of the Shire or Yavanna."
Fortinbras stepped forward and finished weaving together a circle around her wrist. Made from dyed leather straps, it was a traditional wanderer's weave. It should not come off her wrist till she came home for a circle should never end unless it was where it had begun. Llorabell traced the multicolored leather bracelet, touched at her cousin's thoughtfulness. Then she turned away and forced herself to walk back through the fields to her home.
Her Took kin's farewell was one that hobbits only give to kin or dear friends that they may never meet again. The poem was part of a song sung only at funerals. Very rarely did hobbits say it now a days but it was a fitting farewell for a hobbit about to go on an adventure for it was a farewell and a reminder of what is most important. No matter how much treasure your adventure gifts you, the most important thing is home and home was where your family and friends were. The wanderer's bracelet would be her constant reminder of what was most important.
Llorabell Baggins paused in her tracks and stared out at the fields of the Shire, eyes drinking in her home one last time. There was one place she'd like to go before leaving. She hadn't been there for a number of years. The small hobbit turned and began trekking through the wheat fields to the north east. About thirty minutes from Bag End, Llorabell found her hidden childhood wonderland.
Honey eyes wandered over the wall of rope like vines before slowly pushing her hands through it and walking besides the cliff side. Finally her hands met no resistances and with a quick glance around, the blond lass pushed her way through the vines into a cave she once hadn't needed to duck in but now couldn't quite stay standing straight. The cave wasn't dark, she could make out a dim light at the other side, giving enough light to see where to place her feet.
Once on the other side, Llorabell smiled a bittersweet smile. She used to come here and pretend that she was on an adventure, searching for elves and dwarves and goblins. The cave stretched out far beyond her sight and she had never had the courage to continue far into the tunnels nor the need with the first cave before her. Though, perhaps it wasn't right calling it a cave as the ceiling had collapsed long ago.
The walls still rose a good couple hundred feet up and curved slightly into the sky. A few stalactites hung from the wall. The rope like vines that hide the entrance hung down amongst the stalactites and Llorabell knew they would be blossoming with white flowers in a few weeks. A few trees rose at angles off the walls, reaching for the sky and a number more rose from inside the cave itself, growing up around the large lake sitting in the middle. The cave floor had a mixture of grasses, mosses, stalagmites and other various rock formations.
Llorabell bowed and called out in greeting to the world around her. The breezy greetings that returned softened her smile to one of pure joy. After a few more moments of just looking at the scenic view the blond hobbit shrugged off her bag. If she was here she might as well see about getting something for dinner. Kneeling besides her pack, Llorabell carefully pulled the rod of wood from what looked like a seam in the bag and then unhooked one of the fishing hooks from its place on the inside of the largest flap. Within a few seconds she had a fishing pole.
The hobbit looked around thoughtfully for a few moments before noticing a small area of the cave's wall that had crumbled. She made quick work in finding a earthworm. Then at last she settled down by the lake and waited. The soft murmurings of the plants around her mixed with the soft clicking of crickets. The even fainter vrooming sounds of the earth and stones completed the strange orchestra of sound she had always known.
Hobbits could talk to the world but that didn't mean the world always spoke within hearing. Llorabell had never had rocks or stone speak more than greetings to her. The plants spoke in more depth. They always have and probably always will. That was how it was with most hobbits. A couple of the blacksmiths and such had conversations with the stone but most never really talked.
Llorabell looked over the cavern walls with a small amount of wonder. Maybe one day she would have reason to speak with them and they with her. Honey eyes paused on the crumbled wall she had found her worm in. Something glinted brightly in the slowly setting sun.
Securing her fishing rod between rocks, the hobbit wandered back over and carefully pushed dirt out of the way. Something glinted green back at her. With a little work a rock almost twice the size of her hand rolled out of the wall. Llorabell went back to her fishing rod, rubbing the dirty off the stone and dunking it in the water to clean it. Hints of deep green started to peek out from the rock.
Pretty.
The sudden bending of her fishing rod distracted the hobbit lass from her shiny stone. Ten minutes later, Llorabell Baggins slipped out the hidden cave entrance and rushed off home with a fairly large fish and a pretty stone clenched in each hand.
Once home Llorabell hung the fish on a hook by the back door and slipped inside. Dropping her traveling pack down by the door, the young hobbit lass almost skipped to her room. She set the stone on her bed and slipped down to the floor to only come back up a moment later with a small chest that had been hidden under her bed.
Opening the chest, Llorabell paused to admire all the shiny rocks inside it. She had found all these rocks in her hidden cave or the surrounding tunnels she had dared as a child. She picked up one with golden flecks glittering in the evening sun. This one had once been used as hidden treasure she and her playmates would find after a long adventure.
"It seems right." Muttered Llorabell as she set both the old and new rock into her chest. It seemed only right that she would find one more shiny stone before her real adventure.
Hiding the chest away once more, the hobbit of Bag End went back outside to gut and clean her fish. As she was just finishing the preparations, Hamfast Gamgee called out in greetings as he walked out of the mess of the back gardens. "Is that you Miss Baggins?"
"Oh yes it is! How have you been Mister Gamgee?"
"Very well, ma'am. You off on an adventure then?" Hamfast looked sadly at her as she finished up cleaning the fish.
Llorabell huffed softly at that, eyes flickering down at her male attire, "I'm afraid so. Would you be so good as to look after Bag End for me?"
"Yes, of course."
"Thank you, I'll be leaving anytime really. Depends on when Gandalf shows up." Llorabell rose. "I'll see you when I get back."
Hamfast nodded and said, "Ori Saindake hilua."
Llorabell paused as a lump caught in her throat. "Saindake."
With that Llorabell went in and pulled off all her weapons and her shoes. Then she cooked the fish up and with a splash of lemon moved to eat. A knock on the door stopped her from digging into it, though.
It must be Gandalf. She would have to pull out more food if he had sent word ahead. Llorabell walked quickly to the door and pulled it open. Her mind went blank at the sight before her.
The figure was shorter than a human but taller than the tallest hobbit. Built with powerful muscles and a wide girth, the figure was dressed for travel and battle. His head was cleanly shaven on top, leaving tattoos visible to the sky. A long beard melded with equally long hair that grew around large ears and the sides of his head.
"Dawlin at your service." rumbled the powerful being.
A dwarf.
Llorabell's mind jerked back into motion as she struggled to understand what was in front of her. She had never met a dwarf before. Why was he even here?
"Bilbo Baggins?" asked the dwarf, his brow arched.
Llorabell jerked slightly at that and said before thinking, "Oh yes, I am." Immediately after she couldn't help but wonder how he knew that name. The only one that had called her that recently was Gandalf. Honey eyes widened. The two spoke at the same time.
"Well where is it-"
"Do you know Gand-"
The two paused and stared at each other for a moment before the dwarf gave a slight nodded. Llorabell asked, "Do you know Gandalf?"
Eyebrows rose at her question. "Aye, he sent us here for the meeting. Said there would be plenty of supper to go with it."
Llorabell spurted at that. "Wha-what?! There isn- why he never..." She paused and, ignoring the slightly amused look directed at her, she pulled herself back together. "Well how many then?"
"How many what?"
"How many will be here for dinner?" she asked in exasperation.
"Fourteen."
Llorabell stared, mouth agape for a moment as her mind tried to understand. "Four-four-fourteen!" The hobbit twirled around in a rush and almost flew back to the kitchen. Llorabell near forgot all about Dwalin the dwarf as she rushed to put her largest cauldron over the fire.
"You alright there lad?"
The hobbit twisted around to find the powerful dwarf standing at the kitchen's entrance. "Fourteen!" She cried out again, "Gandalf hadn't even told me he was coming tonight!"
"Ah." Was the dwarf's only response.
Llorabell stared at the dwarf for a moment before remembering her fish. Picking the plate and utensils up she quickly handed them over to him. "Here, apologies for not having a proper meal ready for everyone yet. Please enjoy this while I get everything ready. The dining room is ove-" Llorabell paused at the entrance of her dining area. "I don't even have room for fourteen!"
Dwalin stomped into the room and, with a quick glance around, said, "No worries laddie, once a few more of us get here we'll make room."
The respectable hobbit nearly cried out again at that. Guests shouldn't have to do anything! Llorabell took a deep breath before nodding and forcing out a quick "thank you" before running back to the kitchen.
Luckily Llorabell was a proper, respectable hobbit and was prepared for short notice gatherings — though not really one for fourteen. By the time a knock came from the door the stew was simmering and the most basic of her buns were filling the smial with the smell of cinnamon and yeast. Her two hams were sizzling and a pot of sausages were just being pushed into the oven besides the nearly done buns.
Before Llorabell could move from the kitchen loud stomps were heard from the dining room and a moment later a yell of brother was heard. She gave the dwarves a moment before moving swiftly out to greet her new guest.
"-now that any of us were coming." Dwalin was saying to the new dwarf, his hands busy working some cookies out of the glass jar from her living area.
"Good evening," greeted Llorabell as she paused a respectable distance from the two dwarves. The new dwarf was shorter than Dwalin and appeared older and wiser with his white hair and beard. The fairly respectable, compared to the battle ready wear of Dwalin's, red tunic helped Llorabell relax slightly. The new dwarf didn't seem so much of a warrior as the other and that put her at ease.
A warm smile, and a deep patient voice resonated from the dwarf. "that it is." He gave a slight bow and spoke, "Balin, at your service."
Llorabell moved to respond when a loud whistling sound came from the kitchen. The water for adding to the sausage pan was ready. "Ah, forgive me! One moment!" she cried before rushing back to the kitchen.
By the time she had finished pouring the water, pulling the buns out and placing pies into the oven another knock came from the door. This time Llorabell made it to the door. Opening it revealed two more dwarves. Both were younger than Dwalin and Balin. They seemed like night and day, though their features were similar enough to denote a familial relation.
The blond wore warm brown toned leather clothing and some type of fur over his shoulders. Multiple handles could be seen at his waist and peaking out of his boots. An amused smile graced his face as he seemed to be staring at the brunette.
The brunette wore cool colored gray leather and had a strap across his front. The bow and quiver resting in the crook of his arm indicated the strap's use. A sword rested at the dwarf's hip. His expression was one of grave seriousness and yet it seemed forced, like the dwarf was trying too hard to keep the expression on his face.
Unlike the two older dwarves, these two wore their beards short. The blond had multiple braids throughout his mane like hair and even in his mustache. The brunette seemed to have had a braid recently fall out as parts of his hair was wavy.
"Kíli," spoke the brunette.
"Fíli," said the blond.
They both bowed with flourish and said at the same time, "At your service." When they rose from their bow the serious expression on Kíli's face was replaced with a smile full of relief and pride. There was a hint of mischief there, too.
"You must be Mister Boggins!" said Kíli, his smile growing into a joyful grin that screamed mischief.
Llorabell started at that. "What?"
"lads, come help," called Dwalin, interrupting Llorabell's thoughts. Fíli and Kíli stomped in with a shouted greeting to the two older dwarves, one moved with restrained excitement and the other held an almost arrogant sway to his movement.
Llorabell stared after them for a moment. Mister? A frown graced her face as she mulled over that word as she headed back to the kitchen. Pulling out some veggies to add to a pan for some broiling, Llorabell could hear the dwarves carefully moving the furniture out of the dining room.
Dwalin had called her laddie and Kíli had called her mister. Did they think she was a he? Or had Gandalf explained hobbit tradition for traveling females like herself? She'd have to ask Gandalf when he got here.
The food was soon ready to eat and the hobbit carefully began to pile the meat up on platters. The dwarves appeared at the kitchen entrance and happily helped carry the food to the table, the younger two stealing pieces of meat as they went. Remembering herself, Llorabell showed Dwalin where the buttery and bottlery were and gave a quick assurance that everything was open to drink.
Then another knock came from the door. Opening the door, Llorabell stumbled back as a mess of dwarves fell into her foyer. Honey eyes swam over the pile before looking up and meeting Gandalf's eyes. For a second she thought she saw a relieved look across his face before amusement replaced it.
The dwarves rose up and quickly greeted her as they nearly flew back to the dining room. Llorabell didn't catch the names of the dwarves beyond the similarities between many of them. Soon the smial was filled with the boisterous laughter and rumbling roar of dwarven voices.
The hobbit lass stumbled around as the dwarves swarmed between getting drinks, grabbing a few of the cold foods out of the pantry she hadn't had time to pull out for them, and greeting each other heartedly. She tried to get to Gandalf multiple times but he always seemed to be between a dwarf and herself.
Llorabell huffed in annoyance, she had never had such a rumbustious group over for dinner before. She spied one of the dwarves, the largest of the bunch with bright red hair, carrying multiple giant wheels of cheese. "Do you need a cheese knife for that?" She called out, trying to be a proper hostess.
"Nah, he eats it by the wheel," explained the dwarf with the ridiculous hat and braided tri-pigtails. Bo-something or other wandered past her with a bowl of some of her prize winning tomatoes. Llorabell sighed heavily before grabbing a cup of tea and joining the party. She was hungry after all.
It was during the meal that Llorabell was able to learn the names of the last group of dwarves. Bofur was the hatted dwarf. Bombur was the ginger who enjoyed cheese a little too much. They were brothers and Bifur, who had an axe stuck in his head, was their cousin. Bifur was older than the other two, if the grey weaved through his black hair was any indication. He also couldn't speak an ounce of common tongue.
Then there was Dori, Nori, and Ori. They were all brothers. Dori had silvery grey hair intricately weaved into tight braids around his head and beard. Ori and Nori had similar reddish brown hair. Ori had a number of braids in his hair and somewhat straggly beard.
Nori's hair was secured into three spikes with a braid, starting from his eyebrows, separating each spike and a single braid weaved into the top of the middle spike. His beard was as intricately braided as his older brothers, though it mirrored his hair with being separated into three parts. All three had clasp like beads of similar design securing their braids.
The last two dwarves, Óin and Glóin, were also brothers. They seemed closer in age to Balin and Dwalin than Kíli and Fíli. Óin had greying hair and had to use an instrument to hear proper conversation. (Not that dwarves seemed to do proper conversation. They instead enjoyed shouting.) Glóin had a huge beard compared to everyone else. His hair was a duller red than Bombur's but truer in color than Nori and Ori's.
Llorabell sat back and listened to all the conversations around her. Dwalin, Balin, Fíli, Kíli, Bofur, Bombur, Bifur, Dori, Nori, Ori, Óin and Glóin. Her eyes moved to Gandalf for a moment before widening. There was one missing. She swiftly went to her pantry and frowned at the nearly empty space.
"Is everything alright laddie?"
Llorabell turned and smiled at Balin. "Well I just noticed we were missing a person. Will he need to eat?"
"Aye, very much so but you needn't worry. There will be stew left for him," he explained kindly, "We haven't eaten everything just yet."
The hobbit nodded in thanks before spying Gandalf standing off on his own. Maybe she would finally get some answers. "Gandalf?"
The wizard looked over at her with a kind smile. "My dear Bilbo, is something the matter?"
"Well besides having a gathering this size show up without any warning, yes. You have been avoiding me and I need some answers. I mean, Gandalf, they are calling me mis-"
"Excuse me." Llorabell turned to find Ori standing before her looking fairly self conscious. "I don't mean to interrupt but what do I do with this?"
Llorabell looked down at the plate in the young dwarf's hands. It was one of her fine china pieces, the set that had been handed down from mother to daughter for five generations.
"Toss it here, Ori."
Her eyes went huge as Ori did just that. She twisted around to follow the plate's descent into Fíli's hand. She couldn't help the high pitched note in her voice as she cried out, "That's my mother's china! You need to be careful with that!"
Almost as if in response to her words, pounding of metal against wood floated in from the dining room. Llorabell rushed over to find the dwarves clinking her fine silverware together and against the table. "Please don't do that, you'll blunt them!" How had she not noticed everyone using her fine utensils and china?!
"Ohhh, you hear that boys? He's said we'd blunt the knives!" cried out Bofur, laughter in his voice. What proceeded after was a very merry song, one she would have appreciated more if they hadn't proceeded to toss all the china every which way. In the end they had somehow cleaned everything up and not a single item was broken. It was a little mind boggling staring at the stacked china and clean silverware surrounded by laughing, merry dwarves.
The laughter was cut short by a resounding knock on the door. Gandalf was the first person to react and everyone slowly followed. Llorabell kept a little back, uncertain over all the merry dwarves less than merry reaction to the last member of the gathering finally making it.
Gandalf pulled the door open. A low rumble rolled across the room as the last dwarf entered with a slow, regal motion. "Gandalf, I thought you said it would be easy to find this place." The new dwarf's words held no real heat behind them. "I only found it because of the mark on the door."
"Mark?" breathed Llorabell. She frowned before adding, "I just had the door painted two weeks ago, Gandalf."
"Ah, yes well." Gandalf hummed for a moment before nodding to the new dwarf. "This is Thorin Oakenshield, the leader of this company."
"So this is the hobbit." Llorabell fought back a shiver at the dwarf's sharp stare. Blue eyes seemed to sear straight through her. Thorin's entire appearance was one of authority and she seemed to have left him wanting. "Tell me, axe or sword?"
"What?" Llorabell asked as she tried to not squirm like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
The annoyance that flickered across his face told her she was trying the dwarf's patience. "At least you seem to know how to dress for travel." With that the dwarves went back into the dining room, leaving Gandalf and Llorabell at the entry. Gandalf's relieved expression was not making Llorabell feel any better about the entire situation.
Once Thorin was given dinner the reason all thirteen dwarves and Gandalf were in her home came to light. Llorabell didn't know what to think as the group began discussing an adventure.
She felt less than thrilled as they explained that they were going to get their treasure from a dragon. She became mildly faint at learning that she was going to be the burglar. The contract made the light headed feeling grow at the list of all the things that could be done to her. Bofur's helpful descriptions of Smaug the Terrible sent her falling flat on her back.
When she woke up it took Llorabell a few minutes of thought and some talking with Gandalf before she signed the contract. A hobbit Gandalf decides to take on an adventure will go whether or not they really want to afterall.
Hobbit words I made up:
galerim - Chakram - they are actual weapons - wiki/Chakram best known by most form the Xena tv show
undnum - heart guiding charms
Moar Evunal - Swift Return
bevorin - a traditional thin metal disk used for cooking during the wandering years, usually highly decorative in appearance but good for cooking fish
Ori Saindake hilua. - You, may Yavanna guide.
Saindake. - Yavanna may