Belle had always been a Daddy's girl. She adored her father, with his habit of smoking pipe weed in the early mornings on the bench outside the house, his penchant for shaking the cane he had taken to using in his final years at the hobbits who would come to inquire after her, his calm way of talking to everyone, polite, even to Lobelia no matter what the woman said and the way he always brewed the perfect cup of tea, not too mild and not too strong, just right.

But she probably adored him so much because she was in every way imaginable, Belladonna Took's daughter, her spitting image in all but the colour of her hair. And Belladonna had been famous for her adventures just as Belle had become. On the last trip to Rivendell alone, Belle had encountered several ghastly creatures, trolls, goblins and even a stray Warg, all of them heading towards her or, as she suspected it to be now, heading towards the Shire. Belle believed, in the way the Elves did, that the world was connected. Everything that happened, happened for a reason, there were no coincidences. It wasn't much of a leap to make then that the strange evil that permeated Shire was drawing all manners of fell creatures to them, not that they would know given how diligent the Rangers were in their duties.

She had faced her fair share of dangers and she remembered them now, when she heard the faint scratching noises right under her.

So despite the stinging in her ankle ('It's not very hobbit-ish to fight!' as Lobelia put it) she reached for the sword Elrond had gifted her on her first visit to Rivendell and on very quiet feet she followed the noises to where they were loudest, the cellar.

While all smials were preferably on the same level and Bag-End as the best Smial in all of Shire was certainly in keeping with that, the cellars had gently sloping floors and towards the end of the room it could almost be considered to be on a lower level altogether if one was so inclined.

And it was at the very end of that room that the sounds of digging and voices, many of them were heard almost clearly. Belle hid behind a barrel of red wine and waited silently. The thuds that had been faint before grew loud.

"Oye Dori, get that beam up properly, don't want the tunnel to collapse on us!" Said a loud, cheery voice with just a hint of exhaustion to it.

"Keep at it," Another person said, the sound rough and authoritative and not just because of the commands that he barked out. Someone who was used to being listened to. "The sooner we rescue the burglar the sooner we can get back to the task at hand."

Belle wasn't that confused anymore. Clearly these were people who had gotten lost underground while trying to rescue a comrade who was a thief. Probably a group of bandits then, she thought with disgust, readying her sword for action but another thought niggle din her mind. She had met and taken care of bandits before and they tended to run away in the face of danger, they certainly didn't dig tunnels to rescue their comrades.

The sound of floor boards being pushed up broke her out of her thoughts and she pressed into the barrel, steadying her breath.

With a few coughs dwarves began clambering out of the hole in her cellar, one by one. The candles she had left burning in the holder to the sides threw a flickering light and she counted the shadows to get herself some idea of the number of people she would be coming up against. She counted seven and even more seemed to be on their way if the ruckus from the corner was anything to go by. One of them turned in a particular way, his shadow revealed two axe-like shapes next to his head and she silently swore.

"It's nice, this place." A young voice commented. "Better if it was made of stone but still." Dwarves then, the shadows were small enough for her to know without a doubt that they certainly weren't Men folk.

"We're not here to size up the house's value." A wise old voice said and she could almost feel him shaking his head. In fact she could see one of the shadows do exactly that, one with an apparently gravity defying beard.

Belle tried to think but between the pain in her foot that was growing by the second and reconciling the fact that a group of people had broken into her house she was finding it hard to be her usually sharp self. But she knew they were there to rescue someone and reasoned that whoever these bandits were, they had a sense of kinship to one another. Hating herself for what she was about to do she swung out of her hiding place and grabbed the closest Dwarf from the back. She put her sword threateningly at his throat and pulled him back with her towards the wall.

"Who the hell are you all and what are you doing in my house?!" She all but shrieked, a combination of outrage at having people break into her house and the pain of the cuff punishing her for talking to an outsider and cursing and holding a weapon. She's always known that Lobelia's little leash would be the death of her but she hadn't thought it would be quite so literal and as another pang ran up her leg she stumbled, leaning against the wall to keep herself standing.

Belle had never held anyone hostage before (oh the shame of having to do so) but no matter what, she had not accounted for the hostage to be what seemed to be a foot taller than her and for him to have such long silver streaked brown hair that it got in her face and was most annoying. She also hadn't counted on him to be so completely unthreatened by the sword t his throat.

"This is ridiculous." Her hostage said and she swore as she realised that she had grabbed the authoritative one. She'd been hoping for the old wise one. "Put the sword down, Halfling." He ordered and she scoffed loudly in his ear.

Before the noise was even fully out of her mouth, he twisted in her grip and disarmed her within a blink, the sword falling to the ground with a clatter. Either she had gotten very rusty in the last few years or the Dwarf was a very good fighter. Belle suspected it was a combination of both. But then he edged closer and her fist flew of its own accord and she mustn't have been that rusty after all because it hit the mark, right in the ribs like Elladan had taught her to. The Dwarf stumbled back before regaining his bearings too fast for her liking while her knuckles burned and her ankle sang with pain. It must have shown on her face because they all backed off, the one she had punched even holding up his hands, placating.

"We don't want to hurt you."

"What in Eru's name are you doing in my house?!" She repeated herself, her voice sluggish

The wise old one, whose hair apparently matched his age with a snowy paleness to it, held a hand at his waist and sighed, tired.

"We've been sent here by Gandalf the Grey wizard to rescue you, Belle Baggins."

"Wha-?"

Gandalf had understood, he could free her from the cuff and help her figure out exactly what was wrong with the Shire! A laugh escaped her, a desperate maniacal sound but the elation wasn't enough to combat the pain in her leg that had grown from a sharp pain in her ankle to an agonizing, all consuming ache, her muscles spasming and cramping violently until she dropped to the ground in a dead faint.

They stared at the young Hobbit who lay in a heap on the floor for a few seconds before Thorin began issuing orders again.

"Dwalin, Dori, take her back to her room. Oin you go with them, make sure she's alright. Fili you take Kili and find Gandalf, tell him we are in Miss Baggins' home and she is in need of assistance."

The place was a hive of activity again and Thorin stood there rubbing his temple.

"I suppose this isn't how you expected things to go?" Balin said with a hint of a smirk and Thorin felt a headache coming on.

"No it isn't." He rubbed his ribs where the hit had landed with surprising accuracy and strength.

She had hidden from them well enough that Nori hadn't known she was there, managed to keep them on their toes for a good few seconds and was quiet on her feet just like Gandalf had said she was. Perhaps she could be an asset after all.

"Well, at least we know the lass can defend herself."

Balin's laughter trailed behind him as he left, Thorin glaring at his back. Gingerly he touched his rib, certain it would bruise. Yes, she could defend herself just fine.

Sorry for the late update but I have spent the last few days ill and in bed and so out of my mind that I kept on giggling at typos instead of fixing it. Editing is hard when you're sick as a dog. Not that I've ever known a sick dog.

Also, everything I know about digging has come from the third Lion King movie and that was being dug by meerkats so I don't know if I've been very accurate in my descriptions of tunnels. But meerkats are totally like hobbits and Bilbo is Timon while Gandalf is Rafiki and Thorin is Simba! All roads lead back to the Lion King. Or well, Hamlet.

Oh, and Happy (soon to be a) New Year!