Chapter 2
A Home All Her Own
Bo found it almost comical how quickly her pantry had been raided. The food painted her longest table within her home and the dwarves surrounded it, armored and rowdy. She watched with a small cup of tea in her hands as bits of food flew across the open space, some landed in plates, others bounced off and rolled past her into the hall she stood in, and a few were caught with open mouths. She clenched her teeth together and sipped her tea through tight lips, desperately trying to calm her nerves. They tested her patience, but there had been worse things to come by. Another boiled egg flew through her line of sight and she winced as it found no catcher, smashing into the wall behind a dwarf's head.
Another tight sip.
As they continued to eat, she made a quick check on her home. The carpets were muddy and sticking to the floor from the added weight. The pantry, of course, she knew to be a picked-clean corpse of what it once was, and as she came to the washroom, she paused. Heavens, no. I shan't be going in there. The smell alone would curl her toes straight off her feet. Their weapons and packs had been piled somewhat neatly near the closet that held her armor and her sword hung on the shelf with others.
She silently made her way back toward the dining area, not a single dwarf having noticed her disappearance. She glanced at Gandalf and all the wizard could give her was a small smile. Oh yes, do find this humorous. You won't be here for the aftermath of such a gathering. The idea of cleaning up such a disastrous event turned her stomach. Even so, to see they brought a chilled happiness to her heart. If mother could be here and see this… she'd fall in love with them so quickly. She'd probably have a better handle on controlling them than I do. Father would have a fit, I imagine. A smile came to her face and she hid it behind the lips of her tea cup.
It was just like in her mother's stories. It reminded her of far off places and wondrous companions who went on dangerous adventures. She felt a small prick of excitement tingle up her spine, but she knew better. I retired. I left that life of adventure and danger behind me when I left the Bounders. She knew better, she did. She had to stay home and maintain her respectability, it was already bad enough that her scars gave her neighbor's a reason to pause. She sighed and touched the end of her scar by the bottom of her chin.
"You know," Bo said gently as the wizard walked past her, the dwarves now having the presence of mind to roam through her house after their meal, "You still haven't told me what these guests are doing in my house." She kept a close eye on a few of them. They studied her home and poked at some of her art, fondled her books, and played with her knitting.
Gandalf avoided her question, "My dear, I find them to be quite the entertaining sort. Wouldn't you agree?" There was a crash from somewhere in the home and she felt her brow tick as she turned her gaze up to Gandalf. The wizard coughed and glanced away, suddenly interested in the books along her shelf at his shoulder.
"Oh, yes." Bo answered; her voice light and somewhat teasing. "Now tell me, is this before or after my mother's old heirlooms are broken?" She smiled sweetly up at the wizard and the old man could do nothing more than sigh and work his mouth, looking for an answer to give her. A body came into her light and shadowed her and Bo drew her teacup closer to her chest, worried that it was about to be knocked from her hands.
"Hold, Mistress Baggins!" One of the dwarves called to her. She turned, careful to keep her forgotten cup of tea away from the looming figure. A blond dwarf, perhaps this one was Fíli? He grinned at her. "We're a good bunch, we can pick up after ourselves without a single crack to your wares!" She was very close to opening her mouth and asking just what, then, had fallen and crashed so violently out in the depths of her home, but she felt a tap on her shoulder that held her tongue.
"Excuse me?" One of them interrupted. Bo sighed and turned to him, his bowl cut a distraction to her gaze before she focused on his face. He pouted his lower lip to her as she tried to remember his name. Ori? Or was it Nori? Goodness. He smiled lightly at her. "What should I do with my plate?" Quiet and polite, the dwarf cut into Bo's annoyance and softened her mood. She sighed and shook her head, they aren't all bad, I'm sure.
Bo went to take the plate, but Fíli proved faster. His hand snatched it from her fingertips. "Here, Ori, we'll handle this! Kíli!" Much to her surprise, the other brother appeared from the curves of her walls, as if waiting. She watched as her plate was tossed and she winced.
"If you could please," Bo pleaded, "try not to do that! Those dishes are over a hundred years old and precious!"
"Easy," Kíli grinned at her, his humor a bounce to his movement. "You can trust us with a few plates! Your forks and knives will come to no harm."
"You'll blunt them!" Bo said with some exasperation. Honestly, it was as if the words went through one ear and out the window. Then, a collective mischief quaked through them and her plates were tossed over her head and around her home. She ducked, her tea cup left on the table before her as they dwarves played with her cutlery.
Their voices broke out into song and Bo was amazed to see the organization that came with the tune. She hurried into the kitchen, frightened that her best plates were left in a misshapen pile of shards all over the floor and table. She stopped short, among the group of laughing dwarves, to see that her heirlooms remained intact.
Bo could feel the flush of heat come into her cheeks and touch the tips of her ears. She shook her head and her hand came up and rubbed against the side of her face, a small chuckle escaping her lips. "Well I'll be… worried for not, it would seem." A few grinned at her, the others laughed, but their merriment was broken up by harsh knocks upon her door.
The liveliness they once displayed disappeared in a wink of an eye and the room grew quiet. Gandalf turned to her, his expression turned stiff and ominous. "He… is here." Bo frowned, unsure of whom the last visitor could be. She followed Gandalf to her front door, huffing as he opened it. Whose home is this again? She wondered not for the first time. The door swung to one side and Bo found herself at the center of her entryway, the other dwarves having molded themselves to the side of her hall against the walls.
A few of them bowed their heads in passing to the newcomer as they made eye contact. It was a curious action, and Bo's gaze moved back to reassess the latest addition to the gathering. He was tall, but not to the height of Dwalin (much to her relief), and broad shouldered. It was almost alarming until his coat was removed and she saw that some of his bulk came from the fur along his shoulders. His boots clung heavily against her floor and mud flaked from them. Bo sighed again; it will look like a farm in here by the time they leave.
She remained ignored, though, as the newcomer spoke to Gandalf. Bo felt her chest huff a bit more. She was the mistress of this home; she would not be ignored for long. "A mark? How? I painted that door myself a week ago."
"There is a mark." Gandalf interjected meekly. "I put it there, myself."
"Did you, now?" Bo accused him and turned her blue gaze to him. He looked mildly ashamed, but it did practically nothing to appease her disappointment in the defacement of her property. Gandalf cleared his throat and placed his hands in front of him, his head tilted toward the new arrival. "Bo Baggins, if you would allow me to introduce the leader of this company… Thorin Oakenshield."
Bo turned to face the dwarf. His expression was stone, set and rough. It was hard to tell if he was displeased at her appearance, or at Gandalf's introduction. "So…" Thorin began with a step toward her. "This is the hobbit?" His icy blue eyes turned up to the wizard. "Bo Baggins… is a woman."
"Who is well within earshot, thank you." Bo interrupted with a clipped tone. A hushed murmur echoed through her home from the other dwarves. No, she did not care what they thought of her speaking to their leader in such a way. This was her home, and to the highest mountain's peak with anyone who would treat her like a child in her home. She was quite to the end of her rope with their manners, and her mother's humor or not, the Baggins in her would not stand for it much longer.
Even so, the look that Thorin pinned her with was not unkind, just unwelcoming of her interjection. She stood her ground, but lowered her shoulders. She knew a challenge when she saw one, and her sword was well stashed away in another hallway. "I have noticed." Thorin replied with a deep growl. Bo pulled her lips together tight. Female though I may be, outnumbered as well, I will not be frightened in my own home.
"And have you done much fighting, then?" Thorin questioned roughly. He circled her and it took a jerk of her neck to keep her gaze from following him around. She would not be intimidated. This was her home and she would repeat it to herself as many times as needed.
"Axe or sword, aye? Which is her preference?" The last was directed at Gandalf as the dwarf stopped before her once more. Bo's gaze flickered down into the darkness of her hall, to where she knew her sword hung and her armor was placed away, collecting dust. Dwalin was just beyond her gaze and he shifted, drawing her attention to him. He shook his head and she frowned. I wasn't going to bolt for my weapons, thank you. The Baggins in her sniffed at the assumption.
"I am quite the expert at conkers," Bo snapped with her chin lowered and her brow furrowed over her nose, her attention back to the offender. "But if you are truly interested, then it is a sword. Better balanced for my form." She answered truthfully. The dwarf stopped and turned to her with an eyebrow raised with distrust. Bo raised her left hand, the last two fingers on her palm crooked.
"Hilt broke, I panicked and punched him." She answered and then stretched her fingers to show that her injury did not hinder her movement, at least, not all that much.
Thorin crossed his arms and smirked. "You look to be more of a maid than a burglar."
A burglar! A maid? Well I never…
Bo whipped her head around to Gandalf and the wizard could only shrug, already looking exhausted.
The dwarves had gathered into her dining room. Candles were lit and the room was dim as Thorin was seated at the end of the table, his back to the hall. Bo shuddered mildly, how must he stand it, to have his back to an opening like that? In a stranger's home, no less? She paused to listen, intrigued by their discussion.
"You are going on quest?" She asked before she could stop her tongue. The room grew quiet for a beat which prompted Gandalf to turn to her.
"Bo, my good girl, would you get us a little more light?"
With a small nod, Bo left from the room and found a few spare candles. She tipped them into the ones that were already lit and returned. Carefully, she placed them out for the wizard and did her best to keep her arm away from the dwarf at the end of her table. A map was stretched out and Bo leaned over gently to view it.
"The Lonely Mountain?" Bo read from the map quietly. "I know of that mountain." Her mother had told her countless stories of the dwarves, of Erebor and the dragon legend that slept within its depths. She ignored the look half of the dwarves gave her, but not the one that came up from her right side. She glared lightly at Thorin. "I am of the Shire, but I am not ignorant. The Lonely Mountain was the home to Erebor, one of the greatest kingdoms among the dwarves."
"Your mother?" Gandalf asked with a smile.
Bo returned it. "Of course, my mother. How else do you think I ended up this way?"
"Then perhaps this will not take as much time to explain as we originally determined." Balin said with a huff.
Notes: The changes made are added content, context, and detail. Accents have been changed for names, now that I have a computer that isn't missing keys.
