Hi! I'm not native English speaker, so please, bare with my mistakes!
Only OC is mine!
Enjoy!
Change so that nothing will change.
It's easy, impossible, tough going, worth a shot. *
She was a variety. She was a chameleon. She was herself. Not everyone could understand it.
She spent childhood as an unassuming and shy girl. It taught her how much importance the words have, how little power have those whose resources of them are limited. Her heart sensitive, her eyes easily watered, her eyelids melting under an excess of liquid. Palms gathered flowers, cheeks turned pink with ease. Polka dots dresses swirled with her every step, caressing her knees. The mouth curved in a delicate half-smile, without grimace, but also without laughter.
Teenage years were full of pride. There was no courtesy anymore, but a rudeness. There was no silence in her mouth but a scream. The louder, the clearer it was, the better. Vulgarisms haunted her vocabulary, her heart hiding under the shade. Her eyes were shining playfully, never filled with tears. Music was higher in the hierarchy than books, flower garlands disappeared from her head. Pale skin, pink lips hidden under scarlet lipstick. Black, loose sweaters and shirts hid tiny waist, and the tight trousers exposed plump thighs. Her steps were heavy, the ankle length boots were ready to make holes in the sidewalk. Smile was always on her face, her teeth always visible in contrast to the wrists.
The high school was a combination of her two life phases. Once in a while, she took off the lens, black appeared less in her dressing room. The hair grew, covered her ears. She smiled less, but sincerity. Her rebellion ceased, she became serious. She understands how important it is to balance the voiceless with the words. She stopped thinking only about herself, engaged herself in getting to know others. Not only did she listen and analyze, she was trying to help. She loved who she was, how she was.
However, true - according to her understanding - cognition came with adult life. She accepted every part of herself, every change that has been made. She did not deal with the panic of finding faults and fixing them immediately, no. She embraced them, became accustomed to living with them. Nobody was perfect, so why would she have to be?
She ran through her bangs with a long fingers. Her complexion was ashen, bags under her eyes visible. Alcohol buzzed in her veins, lips cracked from excessive biting.
She tied the hoodie around her hips and allowed the sun to warm her bare shoulders. She sighed softly as the wind swam into her hair. Despite body aches and drowsiness, she moved quickly, slightly, as if her feet did not touch the ground. She corrected the falling strap of her backpack and was ready to jog to the bus stop. But before she could move on, someone called her name. She turned her head, there was no one behind her on the path. She covered her eyes with her eyelids, a subtle smile crept into her lips.
When light came to her retina again, she was forced to blink several times. Not because of the dazzling glow, but the location in which she found herself. She looked around her surroundings, then twisted around her axis and realized she was in a different place. Drastically different from the previous one and even less known. She absorbed every detail, the panic was replaced by a shock. She came down from the lane, her backpack dangled under the tree, she sat next to it.
Her face hid in her hands, her knees bobbing to her chest, her breathing accelerated. The mind closely followed the events of the moment. She left the her boy's house five minutes later than she should, her step compact, close to running. It was impossible to feel the spilled bitumen in one second, and in the second the freshness of the forest, wasn't it?
It's just a dream, she told herself in her mind, Only a dream. I'm going to wake up and everything will be alright. I'm sure girls, wanting me to relax, added something to alcohol. It's just a dream.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. The attempt to calm down did not work and before she stop herself, she breathed deeply through her mouth, only to later pull the air in without ejecting it out. The birds were chirping, the leaves rustled on the branches, somewhere in the distance the water was hitting the rocks. She focused on the sounds, displacing carbon dioxide. She managed to calm herself down, her previously lost vision returned, black spots went away. She saw a change in her position. She did not sit back to the trunk, but she was leaning on her hands and knees.
She collapse to her heels and did not move for a long time. It took a few minutes before - with great difficulty - she rose. Legs shook, barely holding her weight. She threw her backpack over her shoulder and repeated the new mantra: Everything is alright, everything is fine, everything is alright.
She had no idea which way she should go, so she chose to ask the fate. She took a coin from her pocket while her thumb felt the pattern. She threw it, grabbed it, then applied it to the outside of her hand. If she draws an obverse, she will go to the left. If it is reverse - to the right. The fingers slowly slid down to reveal the reverse of the coin.
She could not explain in any logical way how she had found herself here, and repeatedly told herself that it was nothing of her imagination. So she went in an unknown direction in unknown area. She did not hear cars, she did not see buildings, she had to be away from civilization. She reached for the phone hidden in her back pocket, hoping she would get out of here. Her boyfriend's smiling face greeted her and the corners of her mouth lifted. But there was no point because, it was out of range. The phone returned to its previous position, and she kept on moving forward without slowing down.
She walked through the forest, until she finally reached the fork of roads. One led to a small village, another in the distance, surrounded by meadows. She could go on, but would it make any sense? She did not have any water or food, and another kilometer to pass would have unnecessarily tired her. The road to the village - according to her calculations - will take her as much as a trip through the forest. She did not want to walk for another hour on foot, so she sat down on the wall, joined to the path line and let her feet rest.
Once again, she reached for the smartphone, but without much effect. She still could not contact anyone. She breathed heavily, the sun was high in the sky, the butterflies fluttering their wings. The world around her was so calm and quiet, unlike Los Angeles. She tied her hair in a ponytail, massaged her calves, and then dropped to the ground. She was about to set off when she heard the whine of the wheels. She turned to look at the carriage, entering her fork. The man in charge of the car was wearing a loose shirt, a blue vest, and brown trousers to his knees. On the trailer that the horse was pulling, she saw the hay, and the boy sitting on it.
"Excuse me!" she called, drawing the attention of the man."Could you take me to the village? Of course, if it's not a problem."
He pulled on the reins, looked at her carefully, and she dared to say that if child would not press, the man would never agree. The child, however, seemed to be strangely awakened by her features and it was not surprising her. Looking at their attire and behavior, she claimed that it was a deep province and someone like her was rare. She entered the vehicle without any help and the boy immediately filled her with questions. He was interested in her clothes, face, eyes. Even the drawings that were covering her skin. Every question she answered briefly and succinctly, trying to be courteous. The father of the child tried not to look at her all. She did not feel good in their company and thanked God that the journey did not last long.
She came off the machine, her eyes stuck on the bare feet of the man and then the boy. She understood the behavior of a younger, though older? Why didn't they have shoes and why their feet were huge and hairy? Though there were questions in her mind that begged for answers, she could not ask. She thanked the man and went on, unsure of what she should do, because people in the village certainly did not own the phones.
She looked around. Well-kept gardens, painted fences, house architecture completely different from what she had seen so far in her life. Two houses from her, the man sat on the right side of the bench. His hair honey-colored, in the right hand he held a pipe, and out of his mouth were flowing through air smoke rings. He looked pleased and with such individuals you can negotiate much easier. It was only after a close examination that she saw a similarity between a man and Martin Freeman. She knew him from Sherlock, but she never felt the need to go into his biography. Does he have a twin brother?
She brushed her hair with her fingers, dust off her trousers and shirt, and then stood in front of him with a shy smile. She cleared her throat and then greeted.
"Good morning! How can I help you?" he seemed to be disgusted with her appearance, but good education did not allow him to insult a lady.
"My question may be oddly, but could you tell me where I am?"
He gave her locations, politely suggested a cup of tea and invited her home when he saw the pale face of a woman. She took off the shoes in the hallway out of habit, the white socks protected her feet from the cold. Man took her to the kitchen. He put a plate of cookies on the table, and settled himself in front of her, waiting for the water to boil.
He saw fatigue on her face, dry lips and bloody eyes. Her attire was quite odd. The loose black shirt hung on her, and the trousers emphasized all her shapes, which made him embarrassed. Another, unknown to him, cloth was tied around her hips. He was horrified by the holes in her trousers on her lap and her demeanor. She did not seem to be dangerous. On the contrary, something told him that this lost sheep was not a threat and would not become a wolf.
"My name is Bilbo Baggins," he said, pouring herbs. "What is your name?"
"Beatrice Whitley," she said.
Hobbiton. Bag End. All these names were so familiar, yet so distant. Probably, if Bilbo Baggins would not say Hobbiton, she would still have no idea where she was. She could not remember much of her high school days, even in the matter of books, although Tolkien's novel she was forced to read. She did not remember much.
There was a hobbit, dwarves, elves – in the Lord of the Rings one of them was played by Orlando Bloom. But she may be wrong. She saw it years ago - and lots of singing. In the end, someone important dies in a battle for something. There is also Dumbledore. In fact its Tolkien version. The dragon also appeared. And she might have liked him.
The thought of coming here was so absurd that Beatrice once again began to convince herself that it was a dream or a hallucination. Not the reality. Bilbo's words merged, the picture vanished, until finally everything became black.
:;:
Beatrice dreamed of home. About her grandma garden full of vegetables. About the trees of her grandfather that gave the fruit. About the swing on which her mom was rocking. About her older sister's bookshelf. About dad's work place. About her room cluttered with cushions, walls covered with photos. About the living room filled with mummy flowers. About the hammock hanging in the middle of the hall for her sister to practice yoga on it. About grandpa's albums with stamps. About grandma's cake. About dad's car.
She touched, felt and tasted everything. Nothing went unnoticed and she was enjoying her memories. Later was John. He patted her on the cheek, drew her lip with his thumb, and his own kissed crown of Beatrice's head. She felt blissful. She wrapped her arms around him and wanted to stay in his embrace forever. His shape suddenly began to melt in her arms, then she could see only a colored blob forming puddle on the floor.
The image of well-known surroundings was blurred in favor of the school building, that she had attended several years ago. The walls were still in a warm, peach orange color, and the smell of sweat and worn boots was still hovering in the air. Still, Beatrice smiled. Particularly, after she saw board with lousy photos of graduates. She touched with fingertips her photo from the times, while she had short, frayed hair. Later, she moved on to the images of her friends and tears blinded her. After the end of high school, they were meeting less and less. They were busy with studying, gaining new acquaintances and their own lives.
Beatrice did not have time to enjoy the vision. The light covered her eyes, making her blind for a few seconds. As her eyelids rose, Beatrice immediately began to soak up the room. Sunlight rained through the open window, aiming perfectly at her face. The mattress on which she was lying was soft, the quilt fluffy, and the pillow gave her cheeks a nice warmth. Her backpack lay in the corner next to the door, the sweatshirt hung on the chair.
She was not sure how the hobbit had moved her to bed and she did not want to know. It was the same with her arrival and stay here. Some things are better unknown, then we do not worry about what has happened and what is still happening. She dropped her bedding to the side, took off the elastic band, and ran her fingers through her hair. She made sure the saliva did not dry in the corner of her mouth or the mascara did not smudge. Everything was fine, so she could leave the room quietly.
The corridor lead to the right and to the left. On the left - towards the exit, to the right - into the hollow. Front doors were wide open. Only after stepping on, she noticed the lack of socks on her feet. She shrugged and then curled toes on the soft carpet. She understood why Mr. Baggins would take off her sneakers, but socks? She laughed, though she did not come back, continued to walk in the direction of the voices coming from the courtyard. She tilted her head from behind the threshold, her eyes halting in the form of two hobbits. Her host and lady, who played with a lacy umbrella.
She did not hear what they were talking about, nor did she see Mr. Baggins's face, but the smile of the woman spoke for itself. She offended Mr. Baggins and took great pleasure in doing so. Beatrice had two options. The first was staying hidden. She could worsen his situation with her presence. She was an unmarried girl in a man's house without a husband or father. Gossip could hurt Mr. Baggins, and she certainly did not want it. The second was as simple as the first. He will go out, she will offend the woman in the most courteous manner, and then - with no regret - will leave with Mr. Baggins.
But before she could decide, the hobbit woman withdrew with grimace. Hobbit turned on his heel and headed for Beatrice. The girl did not return to her room, remained in the hallway and let theirs eyes meet. Mr. Baggins smiled broadly, his pace was faster.
"Good morning, Miss Whitley!" he greeted, and she responded with same politeness. "Please, follow me, I'll made you breakfast, and I'll join you for a meal. It's time for a second breakfast, of course."
Beatrice followed him into the kitchen, allowed herself to sit at the table and waited for the announced before eggs with bacon and tea. Bilbo Baggins did not stop talking, but it did not bother her. Beatrice's mom was the same and she smiled.
"You slept for a long time." he said while slicing bread."All day and night. You must have been very tired, young lady..."
"Beatrice," she said in a hoarse voice. "Please call me Beatrice, Mr. Baggins."
"Of course!" he beamed."Then you have to call me Bilbo, my dear. So where do you come from? I have never seen anyone like you."
Life was full of choices. What to say, what do not say. What to do, what not to do. She could tell him the truth, the whole truth. How she appeared here, with no family to which she could return, how there was no hobbits, elves, dwarfs in her world. She could lied, but how far would it take her? The lie has no legs, and she did not have extensive knowledge of Middle-earth. Only one thing left.
"I come from a faraway place."she began."From the land where I come from, people do not believe in the existence of other races developed intellectually like they do, so there are no hobbits, elves or goblins, there are only humans. Of course there are books that contain information about them... and that's why I did not know where I am..."
Bilbo blinked several times, probably not expecting such a turn of events. He understood from her chatter only that she was not from here. He placed a plate and a cup in front of her and sat down. Belladonna Baggins-Took, his mother, said that if something seems incomprehensible to you, you know not enough, and if you not know enough, you do not judge, you do not make hasty assumptions, even if something seems impossible - trust. Bungo Baggins taught him another lesson, but did it make sense when his heart already chosen? Everything in him told him that Beatrice Whitley is a lost girl with no family.
"Is it the first time you see a hobbit?" She nodded. On another question about not knowing the terrain, she repeated the gesture. "And your family?"
Beatrice swallowed a piece of the egg and then drank hot tea, only now feeling very hungry. She wiped her mouth with a napkin, pushed away the empty plate, and then she put her hands on the cup. Its warmth calmed her.
"I'm alone."she whispered."And I do not know the way back home."
The world around her influenced her. Flavors, fragrances, sounds, touch. She felt it too hard for it to not be true. Mind could not embrace it, but Beatrice knew. She also knew that when she found the entrance, the exit also had to be somewhere.
Bilbo caught her hand in his, a look of compassion on his face. He assured her that she could stay with him as much as she wanted. Beatrice should refuse. She did not have a way to repay him for that kindness. But what would she do alone in a foreign world? No roof over the head, no food and company of the other person? She squeezed his hand and everything was clear.
:;:
Beatrice lived with Bilbo Baggins for a two weeks. Slowly, she became accustomed to a carefree life. She got up with the sun, made breakfast for herself and Bilbo, and then went out to work in the garden. She did not know how to take care of flowers, but she knew her way around vegetables. She left flowers to the Baggins, she herself took care of the carrot farm, the swede, parsley and potatoes. She was not the best, she knew only as much as her grandmother taught her in childhood and what Bilbo told her. She did not want to sit idly and do nothing, she did not want to live in Bilbo's home for free.
After work in the garden, she rested with Bilbo on the bench. He smoked a pipe, she was drinking tea and so they ate the second breakfast. For Bilbo it was the third meal of the day and certainly not the last. Beatrice was busy lunching and later cleaning up the hollow when Bilbo was busy with his garden.
However, the ritual was disturbed on the fifteenth day of her stay at Shire. As usual, she got up early, prepared a meal. She worked in the garden when a thin voice came from behind the fence:
"Don't you think you should invest in a new outfit? This one seems to be worn out and too big for you."
Beatrice raised her head from the ground. Behind the fence was a small girl. She was sitting on the wall, bare feet hanging. She was a very nice hobbit. Cheeks covered with pink blush, and bright curls encircled the round face. Beatrice took off the gloves and hat, rubbed the sweat from her forehead and walked to the stranger.
"I have no money for new clothes." she said shamelessly. "And I'm not going to ask for a new ones from Mr. Baggins. Can I do something else for you?"
The young female looked at her with a long stare, then pulled her hand. Beatrice pressed the wall with her free hand, panic began to flow in her veins. Blonde that stood on the other side frowned, then put two fingers to her mouth and whistled. Next to her appeared three other females, they jumped swiftly through the fence, two of them pressed on Beatrice, the fourth was waiting for the first to say something.
"Ruby, tell Mr. Baggins we are borrowing her for a while. We'll give her back later tonight." she gave order to the girl with short red hair. "Lily, Piper, push harder."
Beatrice leaned bare feet against the wall, puffed and puffed, trying to snatch, but they had a numerical advantage. They dragged her into the burrow five feet away, then pushed her into the bathroom. She did not have time to protest, and parts of her clothes disappeared from her body. She found herself in balls, oil on her skin and hair. Chuckles and whispers echoed. The towel fell on her head. One dried her hair, another body. Beatrice felt at least embarrassed.
"The case is simple, Miss Whitley." said the leader. "We'll make you a beauty and you will repay us."
"I do not think so." she snapped. "I do not know who you are or what you want and do not want to know. Just let me..."
Lily or Piper - Beatrice was not sure - touched her lips with an index finger in a silent gesture. She put her mouth into a thin line, but allowed them to do what they wanted to do with her. She went into one-piece underwear, later in a snow-white shirt and a blue ankle long skirt. The main antagonist pulled the shirt down, revealing a large portion of her breast, while Lily and Piper began to press her in a black corset with straps. Ruby continued to dry the long strands of Beatrice's hair with a towel.
The leader put on her mouth, throat and neckline a little white powder, which - according to Beatrice - fused with her already pale skin. Red dust appeared on her cheeks and eyelids. Whitley feared the effects of this escapade. Dark hair were combed and arranged.
"We're done." the blonde said. "And even if you do not like it, you can not refuse now, you have to repay the debt."
Beatrice did not answer, still unhappy with the abduction. On the other hand, she enjoyed being with girls close to her age. She liked Bilbo, really, but she missed her time with her friends. She missed going out, shopping, parties. Although, she was forced to come here, she was undoubtedly spending time with young girls. The downside of this situation was that she did not know any of them and was not included in their verbal enjoyment.
They led her to the mirror and Beatrice had to admit that it did not work out as bad as she thought it would, because of lack of suitable products. She had cosmetics and she was able to create a work of art with them. She looked at her reflection carefully, focusing on every detail. The corset squeezed her bosom, the skirt emphasized the hips. She swatted her hair to one side, knitting them quickly into the braid and tied with a wet eraser.
"Your hair and body smell of lavender, we put on you powdered pearls, cheeks and eyes are covered with red ocher."said the blonde. She put her hands on her hips, raised her head up. "My name is Mya. It was I who came up with the idea of taking you from Mr. Baggins and changing your miserable life. The robes you wear are a gift from us. As the totem of friendship. We only expect a..."
"New haircut!" they shouted together.
Beatrice stepped back. She looked at the ladies with a uncertain look. Just in case, she made sure all her nine earrings were in place - never know what hobbies can do when they think something is useful - then raised her eyebrows up.
"What do you mean? "she asked. "And what are your names? We did not introduce ourselves."
Three girls whose names she knew but could not fit into the look, grinned and began to chirp. Beatrice kept forgetting about redhead Ruby. First she was ordered to inform Bilbo about her current location, later she was still busy with her hair. Ruby had plump cheeks, big green eyes and dimples under her mouth when she was smiling.
Lily was the one, who had silenced her before. Long, ebony curls fell on her back, her warm brown eyes reminded Beatrice of the deer. She had beautiful, rosy lips. Piper looked like a typical boy, forced to wear dresses. Hair cut shorter than Bilbo's perfectly matched her slender face. Mya was the most beautiful and probably the most sharp of them. Probably that was the reason she was the leader of this small group.
She also introduced herself, although the girls probably knew her well. She and Bilbo were the objects of many rumors, although they did not care too much about them.
"From the time you showed up, we see you in other hairstyles everyday." Lily began.
"That's why we came up with the idea to hire you to arrange our hair." Piper said.
Beatrice sighed heavily. Middle-earth teenagers did not differ from those of her reality. She pointed at the chair. The girls squealed with joy and through some unknown to her way, they set out the first person to hairstyle. Piper sat down on a stool, the back perfectly straight. The girl gave her a free hand in action, so she decided to make a crown. It was the only thing she could do with her short curls.
"It's a special day for you? "she asked, trying to do it as accurately as possible. They did not answer for a long time. She looked up from her braid, looked at her companions, and burst out laughing. Each of them, literally, was red on their faces and neck like a ripened tomato. "Ah, boys." For whom else would the lad want be dressed so fancy?
"Our Thain, Fortinbras, have over a few young hobbits lads."said Mya confidently, despite the blush. "They caught our eye and we thought we could show them around tonight."
Beatrice gave a loud hmm and finished her first haircut. She asked Piper to pick flowers to decorate their braids, and she jumped out of the window immediately into the yard. Another was Ruby. Her feathers were longer than Piper, but still excluded some hairstyles. She decided on a fishtail braid with a tail tucked inside.
"And you have someone you like? "Lily asked, observing the movements of her fingers carefully. "We doubt the truth of the rumors. You and Mr. Baggins do not really match."
Beatrice's features softened, when she remembered John. She returned in her memory to his large hands, broad shoulders and laughing eyes. Her heart was filled with longing. However, she could not get out of here. She could not. Only Bilbo could know, only him she could trust.
"I do," she replied. Maybe she should use past time? "And I miss him very much."
The girls were silent. They did not push the subject, they did not insist on the details. But in her mind Beatrice thanked them. She finished Ruby's hair when Piper returned. She dropped the flowers on the table and sat down next to them.
"When I'm done with Lily and Mya, I'll insert it to yours hair, is that all right?" she told Piper and Ruby. They nodded, agreeing to this arrangement, and Lily took the place of Ruby.
She ran a hand through Lily's strands and set on a french braid. She grabbed her hair so they could be tighten really well and started to work. They were tuck in silence, in tense atmosphere, and Piper sensed it. She leaped nimbly to the floor and walked to Beatrice. She bent her head and studied the drawings on her body.
"Tattoos in the Shire are considered as body desecration. This is not prohibited by law, but this would end up being excluded from society."
"In my land, not everyone accepts it." she admitted. When asked where she came from, she replied, "The name will not tell you anything, my dear Lily."
She patted her shoulders on the sign that she was done. Mya - as opposed to the rest - knew what she wanted. She had a hairstyle that Beatrice had yesterday. She made the dutch braid.
"You have a lot of them," Ruby said."I noticed while bathing. So many colors and shapes! Do they have any symbolism?"
Beatrice thought about it. The first tattoo she made when she was fifteen and a sign of rebellion. Later she made them out of whims. The first tattoo that had real meaning appeared on her when she was eighteen.
"Family, friends, freedom," she murmured. "Some happen, because I wanted to fill the gap among others or under the influence of alcohol."
The group made a palette of ahs and oh oh. They expressed an opinion about the paintings, drinking alcohol by women, ending up with their families. Each of them had a large family, and in the burrows lived many generations. Rarely were they alone, and this day was the only free day for them, because grandparents, uncles, cousins, siblings and parents met at the home of eldest of the family and conferred.
Beatrice did not understand many of their traditions, although she did not mind. The warmth surrounded her everywhere, because of hearing the rumors, seeing how they eat apples, as they give her grapes. She focused on creating. Mom said she would be a great hairdresser like her. Beatrice liked to play with her hair. But it was not what she loved to do. She liked to please Grace Whitley, so she sometimes combed her clients's hair, but that's all. She was simply the type of person, who worked in everything that required manual skills and physical abilities, but everything related to the sciences was disgusting. She needed to resit math, for heaven's sake!
Beatrice was going to cherish this moment. She had to make a living out here and these girls were her chance to do it. She put the last forget-me-no into the golden hair of Mya. With a thumb, she draw a circle on the hobbit's neck. She was tense, probably stressed before meeting her beloved. She stepped back, then looked at them. There was no doubt that they would charm the men they wanted.
Maybe she will be friends with them, maybe she will attend their wedding, maybe she will get to know their children. Nostalgia swept over her. She tried to treat it like a long holiday, she really tried, but she could not. She wanted so much to go home, to mom, to John. To the running water, to civilization, to the technology. Had she been with Bilbo now, she would have cried. Beatrice knew that she would not accept the loss of her previous life for a long time.
She did not know the exact biography of Bilbo Baggins. He could have set out for the journey with the dwarfs, and soon Frodo would appear - at least she thought that was the little hobbit name - and everything would be great. This journey could only be approaching. What then can she do? Just ask Tolkien's Dumbledore for help?
"Ruby do not wear anything white or black. You will look best in the green. Piper, you need to emphasizes your long neck with necklace, do not go in bronze, try with yellow. Lily, the wreath is perfectly composed with a haircut, and the blue will brighten you. Mya, I know you do not need advice, but this one will definitely be useful. Put on a pink or white dress. Thank you for the afternoon and evening."
At the end they hugged each other, said goodbye and wished good luck. They wanted to escort her to Bag End, but Beatrice refused. She needed a moment fr herself, a break from the bustle and for being prepared for Bilbo's verbal attack.
It was dark outside, stars shone in the sky, and the moon lit up her way home. She danced slowly, while walking, humming the melody of a long-not-heard song. She remembered that a man sang it, but she could not remember name of the performer or the lyric. She almost started dancing fully in the center of the path, but she stopped, when person walking toward her come to her view. She only noticed his beard and long hair. He was also much taller than the hobbits in the village.
She opened the door, bare feet enjoying familiar floor. She did grab the door handle and then heard laughter and horrified Bilbo squeal. Immediately she opened the door and went in.
"Bilbo, are you all right?!" she called out to him.
Many pairs of eyes greeted her. Twelve dwarfs, Bilbo and Dumbledore. Beatrice knew everything already. On the morning of the next day, Bilbo Baggins will take a journey there and back again. And she will stay alone in a world where an outsider dies.
Where's she running, isn't she exhausted.
Not a bit, a little, to death, it doesn't matter. *
* Wisława Szymborska "Portrait of a woman"