AN: Beloved Daughter, your parents should be proud of you. Thank you so much for helping me with continuing this story. Thorin and fem!Bilbo meeting for the first time was always a difficult scene to broach for me. Thank you for your help in furthering my story. As for all other reviewers, favourites and follows, thank you for your help as well. I could ask for no better reception.
Thorin dragged his feet along the dirt path leading up to Hobbiton. His boots caked with mud. Lightning illuminated the dark sky, the flash of light momentarily wiping the stars from view before it faded; the superheated air crackled and erupted in a cacophony of noise, and there was nothing again, but the zephyr blowing in his face. As the first drops of rain hit, Thorin draped his fur coat over the sleeping forms of his sister sons, which were keeled over each other on the pony.
Upon reaching the first oddly-shaped house with a round door, his hand ghosted over the front gate. His hand ghosted over the latch as he wondered in awe how someone managed to build such a complex locking mechanism with three failsafes.
Tying the pony to a fence post, he investigated further. The three latches at the gate separating the front garden from the outside world were marred with rust. There were no keyholes to pick. There was no knocker in sight. There wasn't even a doorknob or a ringer-bell or Mahal-damned lock to break. Thorin swallowed. Surely it must be one of those new, intruder-proof hydraulic designs made by Balin before the sacking of Erebor.
Erebor. Thorin slammed the lock in frustration. The rusted latches snapped under the force while splinters of unoiled, brittle plywood jammed into Thorin's hands. Blood trickled onto the grass. The gate was not protected by some intricate security system. It was a simple latch mechanism. It was nothing in dwarven eyes. Just pull the latch lightly, and it should come off. Yet he had been humbled, humbled by the simple yet unnervingly manner of these hobbits. The master of these halls would not be pleased with him, he thought.
Thorin drew in a sharp breath as he tugged at the large splinter of wood embedded in his palm. Repairing a gate would require a day, further delaying his journey. He made up his mind to do it; after all, it was only honourable. After binding his hand with a rag of cloth, he led his pony to the fence and tied its lead. Judging by the dim lighting that shone through the curtained windows, the hole's inhabitants must be awake still. Thorin stared at the door for a long time, as if willing for it to on its own. Remembering that his nephews were caught out in the rain, he brought himself to slam his palm against the door. Twice. This brought a dull ache to his injured hands. There was a brief commotion, and the door swung open.
"Lobelia Sackville-Bag-" Bella's tirade came to an abrupt end, stopped by the unfamiliar, well-chiselled face that greeted her. Thorin's icy blue eyes searched the small female hobbit that stood on the other side of the threshold, mere feet away. She was slight for a hobbit, looking as if she was not of age. Her kind, caring face was clean, cheeks healthy and pink. She bore no signs of recent travelling or hardships. Slightly curly, her auburn hair cascaded down her shoulders in copper waves. Her bright emerald eyes shone in the evening dusk, as if she was surprised to see a dwarf instead of an annoying relative at her front door. Her face was contorted in mild shock while her moist, pink lips hung slightly open. Taken off guard by the sight in front of him, Thorin let his gaze flutter down the smooth skin of her throat, to the front of her sheer nightgown. The thin lace of the nightgown did little to shield her curves from prying eyes. Thorin's gaze was momentarily affixed on the gentle swell of her bosom, his face flushing red as he caught a glimpse of twin red circles, hard and erect in the cool evening air. Realising what he was doing, he brought his steely gaze up to meet Bella square in the eye.
Meanwhile, Bella was confused. Why in the name of the Valar was a dwarf man standing in her doorway, so far from home? There rarely were any men or dwarves in the Shire, if there were any they were traders or messengers. This man looked like neither of them. Shifting her eyes from the dwarf's bearded and grimy face to his broadsword on his belt, she realised that he looked more of a bandit, murderer and rapist than anything else. However, his expression told her otherwise. In his face, he saw a man marred by worries and travel. He saw a desperate traveller needing assistance of some sort.
Not wanting to come off as a rude, uncaring and respectable hobbit whose irresponsible parents didn't teach her manners, she edged her round door slightly open, both of them sizing the other up. As her eyes met his, she suddenly realised her state of undress and swiftly tied her dressing gown around her waist. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she realised what he was looking at.
Thorin mentally chided himself for letting his guard down, however momentarily, it was a sign of weakness, and weakness was not befitting of a dwarf lord, exiled or not. He bowed low, as any polite dwarf would, taking the opportunity to cup her small, smooth hands in his rough, calloused ones. He gently pressed his lips onto the back of her hand, before pulling away elegantly, as was taught to him in the halls of Erebor. Even if he would need to go door-to-door for a roof over his head, he would do it with style befitting of a king. "Thorin II Oakenshield, at your service milady," he greeted her in baritone voice which implied authority.
Never had Bella been greeted so formally before, she drew a deep breath as she stumbled over words in her head. Not wanting to make a fool of herself over the first dwarf she had ever met, she was more than happy when Thorin continued.
"Milady, may I have the honour of knowing your name?" Thorin asked.
"Bella Baggins, at-at your service, Master Oakenshield." Bella managed to stutter out a reply, still unsure of whether she would come off as offensive or polite.
"It's Thorin, not Oakenshield," the thoughtful reply came as Thorin absentmindedly edged into the house. "What say you, Mistress Baggins, to allow my two nephews and I shelter in your halls till tomorrow?" Thorin requested brusquely. Bella looked up at him in shock, first the dwarf appeared in his doorway, now he was asking whether he could board in her home for one night. Towering over her, the rather tall dwarf was quickly encroaching on her personal space.
Sensing her hesitation, Thorin took out a small bag of silver and held it in front of her, "This will be yours," he added smoothly. Bella however, was even more uncomfortable with the idea. In such a close-knit community such as Hobbiton, with a greater community in the Shire, gossip spread faster than wildfire. The fact that Bella took a dwarf into her house in the dead of night with payment would be scandalous. Lobelia Sackville Baggins would ruin every last shred of dignity she had with her uncouth lies. Bella forced a smile on her face, before saying, "Master Thorin, I apologise, but currently, I am having dinner and it's impolite to ask a lady if you can board in her house in such a short notice. I'm sorry for making it so hard for you, but I had to speak my mind-" before she could even say 'please leave', or that he could find a boarding house a few smials down the road, Thorin set the bag of silver in her hand with a subtle smile.
"Apology accepted, Mistress Baggins." He set down his sword on the floor next to the door with a loud clunk, and went out in the rain. "Fili, Kili, get down from the pony! There's dinner!" Thorin bellowed to his nephews. Bella looked down at the bag of silver in frustration. She cursed the wandering dwarf with selective hearing, before tossing the bag of silver into her room and fussing over what to wear for dinner.
When Bella came out of her room, she was wearing a violet blue dress with a matching navy-blue bodice. She had her hair neatly braided behind her pointy ears. Living alone, it had been a long time since she was dressed up for dinner. Most of the time, it was just her, her nightgown and dressing gown. Another thing she had to prepare herself for was the appetite of dwarves. Nearly rivalling hobbits with their love of food, tales of them eating cheese by the chunk and of them drinking ale straight from the barrel were known far and wide.
She shuddered at the thought of letting a family of these messy eaters into her house, and said a silent prayer to the Valar, that they would bless her for caring for wandering travellers. As she stepped into the dining hall of Bag End, she saw her table lined with goods from her pantry, most of them were prepared by her guests, ranging from cake to meatloaf to ale, and the table was neatly loaded.
Thorin and his nephews were sitting at the far side of her table. Thorin however, seemed like a different dwarf when next to his nephews. Instead of being imposing, aloof and strangely fierce, he seemed to be a brighter and kinder soul, with a subtle, but perpetual smile on his face. His nephews were young for dwarves. One of them was a blond and the other was a brunet. The blond seemed older, as he had a short beard cropped short against his chin. The brunet was younger, without a trace of a beard on his chin; however, he had impressive sideburns which were delicately braided either by their mother, or Thorin.
"I'll greet her first, I'm older!" the blond declared playfully to the brunet as they stood up in unison.
"No! I'll greet her first, you fell asleep on the pony first anyway!" the brunet responded cheekily.
As they approached her, the two dwarves came to some kind of internal agreement. "Fili," the blond began.
"And Kili," the brunet continued. "At your service, Mrs Boggins!" they completed their introduction in perfect sync with much mock grandeur. Bowing low, they returned to their seats, drawing chuckles from both Bella and Thorin.
"Nice to meet you as well, Fili and Kili, wait…how did you know my name?" Bella blurted out. Suddenly, she realised that she had given Thorin her name, and regretted spewing such nonsense. But Kili's reply was not what she expected as she smoothed her dress while sitting down.
"Why your name is inscribed there of course! B-e-l-l-a B-a-g-g-i-n-s." he spelled out, pointing to a plaque titled Champion of the Game of Conkers. "See Uncle? I know how to read Westron! I've been paying attention in Master Balin's lesson!" he boasted animatedly to his uncle. Bella gestured at the food, telling the dwarves to eat. And so, they ate in silence for quite a while, being hungry from the previous day.
For the dwarves, it was the first warm hearth and hearty meal they had since they left the Blue Mountains. And for Bella, it was the first friendly company she had. Ever since her parents died all those years ago. As the night drew on, they all felt one thing.
They felt happy.