The doorbell rang again, and a very disgruntled hobbit marched towards the source of the noise. "Oh no. No, no, no, no, no."
"No more!" Bilbo snapped, yanking on the door handle "I was not expecting anyone, and I am ill-prepared to host any more-"
The hobbit paused. "-Dwarves…" he said, trailing off.
He had been greeted with the sight of dark brown material, and two gloved hands wringing together nervously. Bilbo blinked, and his eyes looked up into the pale face of a young woman with a strained smile on her face.
"Good evening," She said, curtseying. "Elsa of Forochel, at your service. Forgive me if I'm late, Master, er..."
"B-Baggins. Bilbo Baggins," He said, certainly not expecting a human lady, but he remembered himself and nodded his head in greeting. True to her introduction, her manner of dress was similar to the sort of Big Folk that sold ice every now and then from the north.
They stood in silence for a moment as the befuddled hobbit struggled for words, and cold breeze seemed to blow through the air. Bilbo shivered at the sudden chill, before drawing his robe around himself. Oh dear, he was in his nightclothes, in front of a young lass, no less!
"Er, may I come in?" Elsa asked.
Bilbo nodded a little, puzzled as to why there were so many odd characters arriving at his home. Still, he was a gentlehobbit, and would not leave a lady out in the sudden cold - mysterious unexplained appearance or not.
"Um, yes… Yes, I suppose so," He said, opening the door.
Elsa ducked her head as she entered, and slouched awkwardly under the low ceiling. She wasn't happy with walking in alone, but Gandalf had cheerfully encouraged her to go on ahead. He had business rounding up the dwarves that were rowdily catching up before they'd set off.
Meanwhile, Bilbo had paused for a moment to ask what exactly was going on, but forgot his query at the sound of a crash from pantry. He excused himself and rushed towards the source of the noise to try and reason with the home invaders. Elsa, being left alone in the hall, followed the noise to a small dining room, where two dwarves were arranging furniture.
"Ah, you must be the sorceress," Said the one with the white beard, with a pleasant smile.
"Balin," He said, before gesturing to the other in the room, who was shifting the dining table slightly. "And Dwalin, at your service."
The other more ferocious looking individual looked up, and they both bowed in unison.
"Elsa of Forochel, at yours, good sirs," The pale woman answered, and curtseyed in turn.
"Ah, and there's Fíli and Kíli, with more seating," Balin said, looking over at the other doorway.
Indeed, two more individuals stood, holding stacked chairs that tilted precariously to and fro. Bilbo trailed them from behind as he protested in indignation.
Elsa was finding it hard to put on her serene, queenly act when she couldn't even stand up straight. Snobbish dignitaries and critical nobles? She could deal with those, as they were bound by the same laws of propriety as she was. However, this was different – she had no idea how commoners acted, and no idea what was polite by dwarven standards. Subtly, she succumbed to her habit of wringing her hands.
"Yeh wouldn't happen to have a tablecloth by any chance, would yeh?" Asked Dwalin, as he gathered the hobbit's cutlery off the table and deposited it on a nearby shelf.
"What? No, they're going to be washed tomorrow," Bilbo said. "All I've got is a few table runners in my linen-cupboard, but I don't see why you'd ask-"
There was yet another ring at the door, and the hobbit stomped off. Elsa heard him angrily muttering under his breath as he passed her.
"Oh, Miss Elsa, would you be a dear and fetch one of those table runners, please?" Balin said, in the middle of arranging chairs.
"Of course," Elsa nodded, grateful for an excuse to exit the room. However, when she had finally returned with a baby blue cloth in hand, she found the entire pantry and living room swarming with dwarves. At least Gandalf's familiar face, was finally among (er, above) them, but he was preoccupied with his own amusement at the scene unfolding.
Elsa resisted the urge to sigh. This was going to be a long and awkward dinner.
"Excuse me, Miss Sorceress, but would you be interested in a nice cup of chamomile tea?"
Elsa looked down at the elaborately bearded dwarf offering her a small mug. "Oh, thank you very much. How thoughtful," She said, and accepted the small teacup with a polite nod.
"No trouble, miss." The dwarf gave her a cheerful grin, and hobbled off to the dining room in search of Gandalf. His absence revealed a very confused Bilbo that was standing behind him. Elsa didn't even notice he was there.
"E-excuse me, but did… did he just say sorceress?" The hobbit asked, a sceptical frown on his face.
Elsa nodded reluctantly, but Bilbo's gaze had left her when he spied an occurrence that he obviously didn't like happening in the hallway. "No no no, that's a very important family heirloom, put that down!"
With that, Elsa was once again left to her own thoughts and, after a while, one thought came most often to mind:
They were everywhere. So many dwarves bustling here and there, carrying food towards the dining room like ants raiding an unfortunate picnicker's lunch. Elsa had assumed that their host knew that they were arriving, but it became apparent that he did not. She had started to feel very sorry for poor Master Baggins, having to deal with his home being overrun, but she was in her own pickle at that moment.
Dwarves pushed past her. The proximity made her feel so uncomfortable that she had to stand in the corner to avoid any more physical contact. There was little risk of her powers getting out of hand, thanks to the elves of Rivendell sewing suppression enchantments in her clothing and gloves, but it was still very disconcerting.
Elsa was quite thankful for the miraculous assistance the elves had given her, and she regretted leaving them without so much as a goodbye. The tea in her hand remained warm, despite the crust of ice forming on palms of her hands under the cloth. Warm drinks were just so nice. She closed her eyes and breathed in the calming aroma of the tea.
After a small period of recuperation with her beverage, she left her corner in the hallway and approached the table when she saw Gandalf do the same. She immediately sat next to him on his left, trying to avoid the chaos that was the rest of the room.
As dinner started (not ceremoniously or officially; the dwarves seemed to just start scoffing down food in unison by some unspoken signal), she glanced at the dwarf sitting immediately to her right – a grey-haired fellow with an ear trumpet. He was hard of hearing, and very engrossed in loud conversation with the rest of his friends and family. Occasionally, he offered her platters if they were passed around, but a polite smile and a nod or shake of the head was the extent of her communication towards him.
Among the blizzard of activity at the table, Elsa stuck out as she sat still and prim in the middle of a terrible display of table manners. The room was a whirl of airborne food, raucous laughter and belching contests, and the fact that she was only sitting next to one dwarf did nothing to protect her.
Elsa had to guard any food she could keep from unknown peckish, wandering hands. Occasionally, thrown food would hit her, and she'd have to brush potato from her sleeves or wipe tomato juice from her forehead. The stench of ale and cooked meat was in the air so thick that it took all of Elsa's willpower not to bolt from the room.
Conceal, don't feel.
The last thing she wanted was a frozen table or worse. Elsa sighed and took another sip of chamomile in her nervousness. Her heart seized when the drink froze over immediately as it touched her lips. She politely finished her roast chicken and excused herself. Maybe she could recuperate in another room.
Elsa had hurriedly retreated to the nearest empty room, trying not to appear too conspicuous. Bilbo, who was in the middle surveying the damages in his pantry, glanced at her as her shadow moved past the doorway. He frowned, somewhat curious – was she lost? He looked back and forth from the woman to his depleted food stocks, and then crept quietly after her.
Finally, Elsa found herself in the smallest kitchen she had ever seen, and thought she was alone. She took one of her gloves, turned it inside out and shook the frost it into a nearby dustbin. The ice had accumulated over time, and while the elven prevented any from escaping, it was rather annoying to walk around with swollen gloved hands. Better to empty them out every now and then to avoid excess anxiety. Perhaps then, she could re-join the meal.
She didn't want to give the impression that she was having so much difficulty controlling her curse. Once his initial surprise at her abilities, the grave and intimidating Thorin Oakenshield was unlike anyone she had dealt with before. Elsa was used to being a leader – the one in charge, and she wasn't used to answering to authority figures. Thorin expected nothing but the best of her. Unfortunately, with her best came her worst.
Calm yourself; control yourself…
"Excuse me, miss, are you alright?"
At the sudden proximity of the voice behind her, Elsa startled. Ice jumped from her uncovered hand to a nearby table. The vase sitting on it was quickly covered, and it shattered.
Bilbo's eyes widened at the sudden display of magic, and for a moment, he wasn't sure if it had actually happened.
"Nonononono!" The ice sorceress' heart filled with fear as she frantically stuffed her glove back on. "I'm so, so sorry, I couldn't- I'll have it replaced I-I…"
The hobbit, who had cringed back, relaxed a fraction when he noticed that Elsa seemed more afraid than he did.
"No no, it's alright," He answered automatically, baffled by her apology and the fact that a sorceress just broke his great-aunt's vase with some sort of magic.
"I'll pay for the damages," The young lady continued, looking around for a dustpan or a broom or something she could use to clear up her mistake.
"It's not expensive, really, I can get a replacement easily," Bilbo reassured her, even though that wasn't quite true. How could he scold her for rudeness, after countless dwarves had just eaten him out of house and home? Elsa was rather polite – refreshingly so, and had been the only one to apologise to him for anything that night.
The hobbit opened a cupboard and produced a small brush and dustpan. "I mean, I did startle you - it wasn't entirely your fault."
"Thank you," Elsa said, hovering nearby, uncertain. She wanted to offer her help, but she had little knowledge of cleaning – that was what the castle servants were for.
The gentlehobbit was momentarily surprised that the glittering substance was frost – ice cold, and seemingly out of nowhere. Still, it was nothing a few scrubs with the brush wouldn't fix.
"See? There, no harm done," Bilbo said somewhat cheerfully, after clearing away the mess.
There was a 'bang!' followed by a swell of raucous laughter from the direction of the dining room. Bilbo's smile wavered.
"I'm so sorry about…" Elsa began, but had no idea how to describe the situation tactfully, so she settled for an exasperated gesture in the general direction of the party. "If I had known that you were unaware-"
Bilbo shook his head politely. "Oh no need, miss. I mean thank you, but I don't think it can be helped. I just hope you managed to get a mouthful of dinner yourself - it's downright chaotic in there."
"I ate a decent amount," Elsa assured. "I don't have a large appetite, anyway."
Elsa appreciated the idle chitchat with their soon-to-be burglar. The good company put her at ease, if only for a little while. He was a pleasant, polite fellow, as long as you acted thus towards him - it made Elsa wonder why he was going on such a quest. This little, mild-mannered hobbit was supposed to be a burglar? That didn't add up. Was this a mistake?
"Perhaps you could bring up your grievances with Mr Gandalf?" Elsa suggested. "There must has have been some sort of misunderstanding."
Bilbo agreed, and marched off to do exactly that. Elsa stood alone once more.
I hope my editing made it prettier than it was last time.