I really want to thank Franzbrotchen over on AO3 for Beta'ing this for me. She really picked up on a lot of mistakes I made and helped make it a tighter narrative. :3
Words can also not even begin to describe how humbled I am that so many people seem to like this story thus far. I can only hope that it will continue to hold your interest in the future.
I ended up moving the timeline ahead by four years, simply because I failed to realize when Belladonna died in canon when I posted the date on the first chapter. Rather than do a disservice to Bilbo's inestimable mother by potentially writing her improperly, I simply tried to skirt the issue. Call it cowardly, it totally is, but I feel better for it.
For now we have character introductions to get through. We'll also get back to Thorin and the summit in the next chapter. I'm not exactly happy with this chapter, as it feels like I ground the story to a screeching halt in favor of introducing characters and establishing relationships. Yet at the same time it felt needed - particularly since we haven't gotten to the real 'meat' yet. Tell me what you think.
It was an uncommonly warm fall day at the new Brandybuck residence, the last vestiges of summer clinging to the air as colder winds slowly crept through the Shire. The green grass and leaves of Hobbiton was giving way to a palette of reds and oranges in the wake of the chill. One could even make out the definition of their breath. A terrible day for a move, or just the right kind depending upon your point of view. Autumn had often been associated with change, and as a wise scion of the Boffin family had once stated it was naturally the most acceptable time for moving. Not too close to the heat and merrymaking of summer, yet avoiding the bitter cold of winter.
Swathed in his beloved maroon jacket, with longer than usual trousers to keep his ankles warm, Bilbo Baggins couldn't help but find himself in the former category. Still, it was not his place to object, and already he had been working for hours at his appointed task of moving parcels from a nearby wagon into the newly renovated hobbit hole, or smial, just yards from the main road. While Mirabella and her considerable brood could potentially handle the move on their own, it simply wouldn't have been proper for blooded kin to leave them in a lurch.
Bilbo stretched his arms above his head with a groan, which only deepened as the inevitable popping sound of his vertebrae realigning met his ears. A stout wooden box resting at his feet, momentarily forgotten. Hours of excessive use had caused most of his muscles to stiffen in protest, and he knew that he'd be feeling the effects of this little operation well into the week. All around him various insects and animals belted out their Autumn songs, in a cacophony of noise that nearly sent the gentle Hobbit bolting for his dearly beloved hole in the ground. Why, he bemoaned slightly, had he gotten up before dawn to become a glorified pack mule again?
"Billy! Cous'n Billy, you alright?" a small hand tugged gently at the sleeve of his coat.
Willing the remaining pain to dispel from his face, Bilbo turned his head down with a warm smile. There was his reason, right there. With a sudden motion he swept down to pick the smaller body up, grinning widely to mask the slight wince of pain. A shriek of laughter was rewarded to him for the action. His charge was getting too big for this it seemed.
"I'm quite fine little Prim," he tapped the little dark-haired Hobbit lass firmly on the nose, "your old cousin is just feeling his age is all."
Primula scrunched her nose up until it caused wrinkles to echo across the rest of her face. Her eyes squinted at the older Hobbit in a calculating fashion that only a child could pull off with ease. "You're not old cous'n." At this she tilted he head to the side, as if doing so would unlock some grand mystery that was right before her eyes. "You're hardly older than Rori."
"Your eldest brother and I are only twelve years apart Prim, and last I checked a certain little lass had unequivocally declared him to be an.. Oh what was the phrase? Old curpin?"
Tilting away as far as her cousin's arms would allow, the young lass crossed her own imperiously, "well he is! He always scolding us and agreeing with the adults!"
"Surely that's no reason to call him that, is it?" He asked to, as she continued on as if she hadn't even heard him.
"And he wouldn't stop going on and on about his birthday this year!"
"I'd imagine you would be crowing as well if it was you reaching your Age of Majority," Bilbo responded wryly as he hefted himself into a sitting position on top of the forgotten box, all in an attempt to ease the burden on his arms. A few more years and he wouldn't be able to manage this anymore.
"But it's not fair!" She screwed her eyes together and leaned heavily against Bilbo, hiding her face in the mop of curls above his right ear. The route of her criticisms now becoming quite apparent, as she allowed her mood to swing towards darker waters. "He gets to be with Papa... Why can't we..?"
Her arms locked around his neck soundly then, seeking comfort.
Bilbo felt, more than heard, the sniffle that shock her body then. Her earlier good mood now long forgotten, as she stood on the precipice of tears. He should have expected this, really, but for all his respectability as a Hobbit he had never been particularly good at dealing with other people.
He knew she was homesick, even after only just arriving in Hobbiton a few days prior. While for him visiting with the few cousins he could stand to be around was a considerable bonus, he had to expect that not everyone had made the journey willingly. Or that every member of the family had made the move in the first place, for that matter. Hobbits were usually social creatures, himself being a queer exception to that with the exception to immediate family members, and at such a tender age the loss of a stable figure in their lives could be almost traumatic.
"Oh Prim, you know it wasn't like that," he rubbed her back in soothing little circles. "Your fathers just wants you to be safe, is all." And indeed, that had been precisely the reason why Gorbadoc Brandybuck, Master of Buckland, had sent the majority of his family to relocate in Hobbiton. Only his heir, Rorimac, had been allowed to stay behind with his father. Even then, it had only been on account of his Age of Majority taking place a few scant months before. His son was officially an adult in the eyes of the Shire folk now, and even Gorbadoc knew that there was little he could do now to prevent the lad from staying behind in Bucklebury if that's what his heart was set on.
Over the past few months, Hobbits of all social standings and gender had been going missing with hardly a clue as to why. A good number of the kidnappings that happened within the Shire, for they never found anything that would suggest an outright murder, had taken place in the South and Eastfarthings. Buckland on the eastern shores of the Brandywine, while not technically Shire land, had seen the brunt of the kidnappings however. So much to the point where many of it's inhabitants had taken to moving westward to both the North and Westfarthings, in an attempt to spare their families the same fate. Few went out into the realms of Men, or even to the small settlement of Hobbits within Bree. Mutual doses of fear of the unknown and rumors that the inhabitants of Bree-land, both Men and Hobbit, were facing the same circumstances kept them from venturing across the Brandywine Bridge.
Inside and along the borders of the Shire, whispers had begun to mention the possibility of another Fell Winter in the making - if things continued on their current path. A fact that was quickly hushed whenever heard, as if the mere invocation would bring it to fruition.
Still, such thoughts were best left for another time, as he tried to coax Primula through her sniffling. "Come now, dry those tears. There's a good lass." Bilbo grinned down at his red faced cousin, who was now stubbornly wiping her tears away even as a few hiccups escaped her tiny mouth.
"Your father and brother are doing their best to ensure your safety back in Buckland. Instead of worrying about not being able to be with them, why not do your best to be happy here so that they won't have more reason to worry?"
"So if I don't cry anymore, we'll go back?"
Bilbo winced, "I didn't say that. However, just think of how happy your father will be if he knows you've settled in well here! The best present you could give him is a happy smile upon your return to Brandy Hall."
A ponderous look crossed her face as she considered his words, the red flush upon her cheeks from the tears now slowly receding.
"Besides I'm selfish." Bilbo declared, borrowing from a phrase that his mother had often used whenever his father had gone abroad for business, "in the mean time I get you all to myself." At this he playfully reached up and messed the mop of dark curls upon her head, all the while smirking at the gales of laughter it elicited.
"Cous'n Billy! Knock it off," she shrieked with laughter, tiny hands pushing against his larger ones in an attempt to prevent her hair from being further messed. Her earlier upset mood receding quickly.
"Oh? And what does your cousin need to stop doing?" An amused voice called out from around the corner of the house.
"Mama!" Primula giggled before wriggling her way out of Bilbo's arms, making a beeline for her mother's skirts as soon as Mirabella rounded the corner. Hiding behind them playfully once the distance was breeched. "He mussed my hair!"
Mirabella Brandybuck, formally Took, was a bit on the short side for a fully grown hobbit. A fact that was only emphasized by her enlarged girth, which was the envy of many a Hobbit throughout the Shire. Further sporting deep green eyes and wheat colored blonde hair that was liberally peppered with streaks of grey in her advancing age. It was hard not to see why she had once been one of the highly sought daughters of the inestimable Old Took.
Sparing a brief glance at her giggling daughter, eyes landing on her still drying eyes, she turned to her nephew with an exaggerated huff. "Did he now? Well we all know the punishment for such a grave insult, don't we Sweet Pea?"
"Yep!"
"Now wait a minute, Aunt Mirabella..." Bilbo began.
"I'd say being forced to stay for afternoon tea would be a suitable punishment, wouldn't you?"
Primula nodded so quickly it almost looked as if her head was about to fling off, her body a flurry of movement over the idea that her Cousin would be staying for tea.
"What say you, brigand?" Mirabella winked then at Bilbo as she placed one of her rotund hands upon Primula's head. "Shall you serve your sentence willingly, or shall we call the boys over here to tie you up?"
For once his Baggins and Took side were in agreement, though oddly for different reasons. The former never being able to pass up a chance at afternoon tea, and the latter practically bouncing at the playful quips being sent his way. He nodded his defeat slightly, and gave an exaggerated bow - the Took side was feeling rather mischievous at that time.
"Good lad," Mirabella smirked before sending Primula off to help her older siblings and bring the news that 'Cous'n Billy' would be staying for tea.
Once the little girl was out of earshot, the older Hobbit turned to Bilbo with a grateful look, "I take it Primula broke down on you?"
Bilbo nodded slowly as he fiddled with the pipe enclosed in his coat pocket, which she took as a sign to continue, "thank you for trying to comfort her. She's taking this move far harder than the others, I'm afraid."
"Understandable, given her age."
"Yes, well," she sighed heavily and her entire round frame seemed to sink briefly, "hopefully she'll be able to settle in soon enough. Or, better yet, we'll be able to return home shortly."
At that a slightly uncomfortable silence settled around the pair, both absorbed in thoughts of the very real possibility that just such a thing might not be possible any time soon.
Mirabella had never been one to allow dark thoughts to linger, however, and soon Bilbo found himself being forcibly dragged straight into a standing position before he could even squawk out a protest.
"Come, I'm sure the boys have finished bringing some fire wood in from the wagon. Let me put on a kettle and you can rest before you return to Bag End for the evening. I won't allow any more talk of these foul matters for the duration of your visit!" With a motherly shove, she began herding him towards the entrance to the modest smial, barely blinking when he tried valiantly to enter on his own accord as was befitting of a respectable Hobbit.
It was hard not to see the resemblance between his mother and her sister in these instances, and it made Bilbo's heart ache ever so painfully at the thought. Bullheadedness was most definitely a Tookish trait that the sisters shared in common it seemed. Memories of when his own mother had directed him to whatever destination she had in mind in much the same manner, floated to the forefront of his mind before he forcibly stamped them down. It would do no one any good to bring up raw wounds now.
Afternoon tea passed rather comfortably after that, although it was rather crowded with eight people attempting to pile into a still unpacked kitchen that was barely bigger than his lobby back at Bag End. Yet it was heart warming for all that it was uncomfortable. Primula, eyes no longer red, sat comfortably on his lap while munching at a hard biscuit as her older brothers and sisters bantered across the room. The lack of table forced them to find whatever hard surface they could grapple some purchase with. Though that hardly seemed to faze most of the Brandbuck clan, with their mother's Tookish influence. Dinodas and Dodinas, the two youngest boys, in particular making a game of it.
Still, it was soon time to leave, as loathe as little Primula was to allow it. She leeched onto his legs, glaring defiantly up at him with her big sea green eyes. All the while the rest of her family watched in amusement at the entrance to their home, apparently having expected just such an action from their youngest member. "You're coming back, Cous'n? Promise!"
While the excitement of the day was more than Bilbo could usually stand, duty to one's family had been at the core of the lessons his parents had tried to impart him with as a small lad. Even had it not been, he was far too fond of them to stay away for long. Though maybe next time they could manage to avoid any heavy lifting...
"Course I am, little Prim. You can count on that." Bilbo ruffled her hair affectionately and let out a laugh as she instantly flung her hands upward to prevent it from being tangled any further. The action having freed his leg, he sent a quick wave of farewell to the rest of the Brandybucks before making a bee-line for Bag End. Vaguely catching onto Primula yelling after him about keeping his word.
Tea had been quite satisfying, if a little more sparse than he was used too, but a Baggins never missed such an important occasion as dinner if they could help it. Hopefully the trout he had bought at market yesterday was still fresh enough to be eaten, though he doubted the twenty minute walk between destinations would make much difference in those regards.
He took the main road through Hobbiton, knowing that it wouldn't be proper to gallivant across fields and fences simply to ensure that dinner was presented on schedule. On the way passing by Old Holman and his young protégé Hamfast Gamgee as the lad attempted to coax his relative into explaining the finer points of gardening. Barely out of swaddling and the lad was already a flutter over a potential profession. It probably wouldn't be very many decades before young Hamfast took over his garden, if his interest wasn't captured by some other profession in the mean time.
Sending the pair a wave, which was briefly returned before their lessons resumed, Bilbo continued down the road for a good while with few interruptions. Aside from a less than dignified attempt to avoid catching the eye of one Berilac Sandybanks, one of the local Bounders who was looking for fresh recruits in the wake of kidnappings.
It wasn't that Bilbo didn't want to help protect the Shire, far from it. However the Baggins family tended to historically be far better thinkers than doers, and he simply couldn't see himself trudging through the wilds on a mad hunt for the mythical culprits when his skills would be better put to use going over ledgers and books. At least when one was pouring over books and documents they could keep to a proper meal schedule!
Berilac, who was a rather intense fellow at the best of times, seemed unsatisfied with this answer the first time it had been presented. To him there was no one better suited than a Took for this sort of job, the other side of Bilbo's lineage never once entering his mind. Besides, he would counter, hadn't Bilbo often paraded through those very hills and marshes as a child? The fact that he was no longer an impressionable youth, chasing after elvish flights of fancy didn't seem to register with the older Hobbit.
Eventually Bilbo had given up on trying to ward off the other's attempts to catch his attention, preferring avoidance to anymore circular discussions. Which was why he was currently zeroed in on the dirt pathway as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever come across. With any luck Berilac would fail to look away from his conversation with one of the Proudfoots, and he'd make it home in time for a proper dinner.
'Just keep focused on the road ahead, just keep focused on the road ahead...'
'Just...'
"Did you lose a boot buckle?"
"How could he lose a boot buckle, Kíli, when he has no boots in the first place?"
Looking up sharply, ears burning red in mortification for the very non-Baggins like behavior he had been exhibiting, he found his vision filled by two dwarves. For what else could they be? Hobbits never grew beards, nor allow stubble to cloud their faces, it simply wasn't done. Though that hadn't stopped the more adventurous prone from trying, to results that would make any real dwarf peel over in gut busting laughter.
But what were dwarves doing in the Shire of all places? There was nothing a dwarf might find of value here, as far as he was aware. They could be a part of a caravan, but Bilbo was sure he'd have heard if one was near Hobbiton.
Currently the taller, brunet one was leaning forward quizzically, unaware of the questions floating around in the Hobbit's mind, while the blond was leaning against a nearby fence post in a blasé fashion - a pair of packs laying neglected at his feet. They seem quite unconcerned with the potential stir their presence would cause, particularly in the current tense climate.
"Maybe he has boots at home that he wears on special occasions?" The one called Kíli turned to his comrade with a bright expression.
"Um, excuse me..."
He was promptly ignored as the blond gave his reply. "If that was the case why would he be searching for a buckle out in the middle of the road like this? That makes no sense."
Kíli bristled childishly, "it could! Maybe he wore them yesterday and lost the buckle then, but didn't have time to search for it until now!"
The other dwarf just shrugged off the outburst, "but didn't Balin say that halflings never wore shoes to begin with? Something about their feet being hard enough to get away without being covered up at all times..."
"I'm dreadfully sorry but..." Bilbo began.
The two continued to banter back and forth, utterly unconcerned that they were now ignoring the subject that had sparked the debate in the first place. There was no malice behind their rebuttals, and Bilbo would have almost been convinced that they were doing it purely to pass the time - except no civilized person would argue simply for the sake of arguing. Would they?
Then again he knew nothing about dwarves, though his current impression was falling with every second that passed.
"Excuse me!"
Without missing a beat, two voices beat back a jovial "you're excused", before swiftly going back to their current discussion - which had somehow ended up on the merits of buckles versus laces on every day shoe-wear.
Huffing in irritation Bilbo allowed himself to stew for a few moments before he gave up entirely on getting their attention. If they wanted to argue like children in the middle of the road then that was their business, thank you very much. Might as well pick his way around them and leave them to their business. At worst a Bounder might happen by and bring them in for questioning, which would serve the two right in his opinion.
He's barely made it around them when two sets of hands latched upon his arms in gentle but firm grips. Bilbo struggled mightily for a few moments, before it became obvious that he was getting no where fast. Once that was apparent, he settled on turning to glare over his shoulder in a most un-Hobbit like fashion. His wish to get home overriding his manners.
"Now now, no need to run off like that, Mr...?" The blond started off.
"Baggins..."
"Mr. Boggins!" Kíli grinned, missing Bilbo's wince. "We're terribly sorry. But we were wondering if you could direct us to some place named..."He thought for a moment before yelling into Bilbo's ear, "Oi! Fíli! What was that town named again?"
"There's no need to yell, I'm right here..." Fíli grumbled good-naturedly, "Uncle called it Tuck-something..."
"Tuckborough?" Maybe if Bilbo hurried this along he might make it out of this with his ear drums in tact.
"That's it!" the taller one grinned. "Where is it? Which road do we have to take?" He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in equal parts excitement and agitation.
Seeing the display was at once smile inducing, and off putting. Why would anyone be so excited to go there? Unless... "And why would you need to go to Tuckborough?" Bilbo tried to keep his tone as neutral as possible, cursing himself for putting his dinner before the potential safety of the Shire. For all he knew these two dwarves had something to do with the recent rash of kidnappings!
Where was Berilac? If push came to shove, Bilbo wasn't sure if he could manage to hold the clearly stronger pair at bay before the local Bounders could attempt to restrain them. Yet he had to try, if that's what it came down to. If he could just stall them long enough...
His act did nothing to fool the blond, however, who cast an appreciative eye on him that made Bilbo feel as if his worth was being weighed and valued in front of his very eyes. Several tense moments passed as they eyed one another, before the dwarf seemed to come to some sort of judgment. Slipping away from the Hobbit who was still being held in a vice grip by his taller comrade he walked over to their forgotten packs and began to rummage through them. Every once in awhile he'd pull out various trinkets and other things of varying value.
Eventually it seemed he found what he was looking for, a stone carving of some sort. Returning to the pair he presented it for Bilbo's inspection, lifting it ever so slightly so that the bottom was also visible. In his hands sat an elaborate limestone chop, polished until it practically shone in the waning sunlight, the figures of various swords carved into it's sides. Yet that wasn't important, what was however was the swirling 'T' on the bottom that marked it as property of the illustrious Took family.
Chops, or seals as the Men might call them, were often used for various functions in Hobbit society. They could be used in place of a signature, to prove one's lineage and status, and even to provide safe passage through the Shire for outsiders. This chop, as he recognized it and it's brethren from his visitations with his Took relatives, was of the latter variety. Given only to those who could be trusted to have the ear of the Thain himself. Yet why would two dwarves have such a thing? Could it be that they stole it? No, the average outsider wouldn't have presented it for his inspection if they had - as the value would have been lost on a would be robber.
That left one larger possibility, that they really did have legitimate business within Tuckborough. That fact caused his body to slacken ever so slightly in relief.
"Hm, what do you know, these things really do work." Fíli turned the chop in his hands before depositing it in a coat pocket for safe keeping, "I take it that this clears things up then?"
Bilbo nodded exhaustedly, "yes, I apologize for my behavior..."
"Nonsense, Mr. Boggins!" Kíli removed his hands from Bilbo's arm only to sling one around his neck, "caution is well warranted in this day and age - or so our Uncle is fond of saying. Though if you want I won't say no to being fed as an apology."
"Not now brother, we have to get to our destination soon or else uncle will be angry - and mother will likely be not very far behind if she finds out we were late once word heads back to her in the Blue Mountains." Both brothers let out a comical shudder at that, and Bilbo wondered after the nature of their family. Surely they couldn't be that bad?
"Regardless, the destination, if you would please Master Hobbit?"
"Yes, well, it's simple really. Just take the road south past Bywater, and take the East Road east until you reach a right fork past Whitfurrows. From there head west once you reach Stock, and follow the road all the way down to Tuckborough."
"Really? Isn't there a shorter way?" Kíli let out a slight whine that was shortly silenced by a whap from his brother.
"Well, I guess you could forego the East Road entirely and cut across the hills until reach the road to Tuckborough, but that seems like..." Really, who would want to trek through the hills when there were perfectly good roads available?
Apparently these two, for they practically jumped on the chance of using a short cut. It was not long before they were off, the brunet shouting after 'Mr. Boggins' about saving a meal for them if they ever came back this way. He was left waving after them awkwardly as they turned around a bend in one of the many hills that made up the quaint village of Hobbiton, before he too moved on.
It was already well past six when he arrived back at Bag End, though it felt much later, and he lamented that this would be the first time in a long time that he would miss out on a prompt dinner. Why it was almost time for the evening meal! Heaving a sigh as he hung up his coat before digging into the pockets to retrieve his pipe for a short smoke before dinner, Bilbo hoped that tomorrow wouldn't be nearly as exciting as today had been. He didn't think his heart could take any more excitement, Took lineage or no.
It was with that thought that he settled into the coziest arm chair in his lounge, puffing away at the Old Toby in his pipe in the hopes that it would provide some comfort. With each drag of the pipe he slowly allowed himself to dream that that would be the last time he ever saw the dwarves, or any talk of kidnappings, and turned his mind towards pleasanter subjects. Never once remembering the often said phrase about life and it's penchant for throwing curves in your pathway when you least expect it.
In regards to Primula, I'm going with the interpretation that Hobbit's age slower than Men in this story. So rather than write her as a teenager, she would be fifteen in 2935, I'm going to write her as if she was half that age. For those of you who are wondering where Drogo is, never fear. He'll show up eventually when he's good and ready. As will several other staples of the Shire.
As to why I focused on Primula instead of Drogo, it's mostly because I imagine that family would be important to Bilbo so soon after his mother's death - which was the year before. And Primula is technically closer in relation to Bilbo than Drogo, first cousins instead of second cousins respectively. That, and when thinking about the Brandybuck's predicament she just sort of stood up and started shouting until I gave her more than a brief cameo.
Anyways, I hope you liked it. I have the next chapter planned already, and a few more things will be explained there. Such as why the Rangers aren't solely handling the issue, when historically they've been valiant protectors of the Shire folk.
Please R&R!
