The Hobbit: Protector of the Shire
Morticia had been hit with something, just when the start of magic users became a real thing. Not like a magician or an illusionist, but actual, factual, and real. It gave her abilities, mostly ones she didn't want. But not wanting didn't mean that she wouldn't use them.
She watched as humanity dwindled to almost nothing, the ground shifted to form new land masses, other races (or species if they preferred to be called that) came into being or awakened, new plant life, more magic, new languages . . . and she saw that nothing killed her. Not even herself.
After a few thousand years she still didn't know what spell had hit her, and time stopped meaning anything, she stopped looking for the spell.
Many beings (as creatures was an offensive term now to most, and she was still in the habit of caring most of the time) were uneasy around her, but Hobbits weren't. So she moved to a little Hobbit village. The Shire, she thought it was called (each section was called something different, as was each home, it could get a little confusing. She often had to look at an up to date map to remember the respective name). She tilled the fields for them, cooked most of the food when they had celebrations, told the children stories, gave weapons lessons to those with too much time or wanted to portray out a fantasy adventure, and cut wood when needed.
Hobbits were an easy going people, and they appreciated her help, so she stayed for a very long time. Most Hobbits acted like Southern Gentleman, or one of those Victorian aristocrats. Tooks, however, acted like, well the only thing she could think of was human teenagers back when it was fashionable to play pranks (Brandybucks weren't far behind in that regard). Quite the lively bunch, those Tooks. Always getting into mischief. (It was one Belladonna Took that was her current favorite, her son Bilbo a close second. Well, it was that way until Belladonna passed. She had been a good woman, always teaching about being kind to all and always giving Morticia a hard time.)
It was Tooks that were taken to her stories of adventure more than the other children. Although sometimes a Baggins was just as enraptured.
The current generation Baggins, one Bilbo to be more specific, was half Took and always reading about different races and the adventures others went on. His heart wanted to wander, but his mind and upbringing told him to be content with what was at the Shire. Morticia had seen many a Hobbit that ended up unhappy by doing what Bilbo was.
Which was why she conspired with Gandalf to have the little Took-Baggins be whisked away on an adventure. And, just like with all Hobbits that ventured out of the Shire, she was going with him. Fuck any argument against her not going or helping.
"So, my little rabbit, have you enough food?" All the Hobbits in the Shire were practically her children in some way or another. She had been with them all their lives, helping birth them and comforting each in their last moments.
Bilbo moved about his garden leisurely, enjoying Morticia's company.
"Well I've got enough to last me for two, perhaps three months." Not if Morticia's plan came to fruition. But, she couldn't exactly tell him that.
"Gandalf, the wandering wizard, is heading this way." A slight forewarning to help. Not that she was going to give him all the details, would ruin some of her fun. But . . . "You'll be having a lot of company soon."
"Oh? Is Gandalf bringing friends?" Bilbo asked, looking up from some strawberries. She smiled slightly. "Isn't he the fellow with the fireworks?"
"You could say that." She saw his mouth tighten. That was the Baggins reaction. Didn't like anything new. But she also saw his eyes sparkle just the tiniest bit, which was Took through and through, always looking for the next big thing to entertain themselves with.
Perhaps she should tell the Council that Bilbo would soon be leaving. It would stop them from assuming him dead and trying to sell his possessions. She should also get a sigil (was it even called a sigil? A rune would work just as well for wording) carved into the wood above his door so no one could enter it while he was out of the Shire.
Yes, that sounded perfect.
.0.0.0.
Morticia had talked to the Council and was packing her things, mostly first aid material, plants with healing properties, some spare clothes, a few brushes and combs (silver in case they were needed to be sold or traded later), most everything that might be needed, and plenty of food for Bilbo. (Ah, the wonders of magic. She could probably fit every piece of furniture into her one bag. Not that she had tried, no, no. She was a classy dame.)
Dwarves didn't know that Hobbits were creatures that needed to eat at least seven times a day or else they started to lose weight and got very weak. Morticia was not going to let that happen.
She wondered if Bilbo still remembered the weapons lessons she used to give him. It would be very helpful on the journey, and earn the respect of the Dwarves. Something that would definitely be needed.
Morticia was loaded with weapons, most of them unseen like her knives and poisons, but she visibly carried four swords; two tanto, one broadsword, and one claymore. Certainly nothing compared to Dwarven axes or hammers, but it was easier for her to carry than anything else when it came to long journeys.
She ran out of her home, hearing shouting, to see Bilbo running out of the Shire. He looked rather frazzled. With a sigh she grabbed her bag and quickly ran up to Bilbo.
"Taking an adventure at last, I see." Morticia laughed at his yelp. "Well, it looks like we're being left behind. I say we hurry up."
He yelped again as she picked him up and ran to the Dwarves on their ponies (which she secretly found adorable. Dwarves weren't exactly human size, but to see them on miniature horses was very cute). He shook when finally placed on the ground.
"Wait." Bilbo finally said, holding out a piece of paper. "I'm coming with you."
"Are you, Burglar?" asked a Dwarf with piercing blue eyes and black hair streaked with gray. He turned his gaze to Morticia. "And who is this?"
"I am Morticia, protector of all Hobbits." She still found it amusing that titles were a big thing to everyone in 'Middle Earth.' "I go where e'er a traveling Hobbit goes."
"And how do you plan to protect anything?" Morticia bristled at the question. No one dared to call her weak.
Gandalf didn't say a damn thing.
"I am what frightens Elves, Orcs, and dark wizards." Not that she had ever really wanted to scare Elves, but it is what it is. "I have been for longer than your race has existed. I speak all, read all, have fought all, and won all."
"You are the Maid of Death?" asked an excited Dwarf. She could not tell which had spoken, only that all of them were looking at her with incredulous eyes (even Bilbo, which stung a little. Had she gone that soft?).
"That was me before I settled with the only ones unafraid of me, Hobbits." It had honestly been one of her better decisions. They loved her and she loved them. "If you wish for Bilbo Baggins to join your company, then I follow. I care not for your sensibilities, your beliefs, how uneasy I make you, or whatever modesty you have. I will protect one of mine with my life and I will follow him as long as he is away from the Shire."
"I see." the first Dwarf said at last. He turned away in dismissal. "Do not hold us back."
"The only way I would hold you back is if I die." Not that she could, and apparently at least one Dwarf here knew it.
That was all Morticia needed. She walked beside Bilbo with a smile on her face.
If she knew one thing about any Hobbit, it was the look in their eye when they were in the company of their One.
And Bilbo's was in this group of Dwarves. How interesting.
Well, it just meant that she would make sure that all of them lived, even after she found out which was Bilbo's One.
"Get him a pony." Ordered the first Dwarf, she really had to learn their names. Bilbo protested, but was still picked up and put on one. "We have no horse for the woman."
"That's fine. I run as fast as any horse." And faster than that.
She walked between Gandalf and her Hobbit, listening to the wizard tell about how they had all bet about whether he was coming along (one of the Dwarves tossing Gandalf a clinking bag), before Bilbo started sneezing, complaining about horse hair. When he couldn't find his handkerchief, he called the company to a halt.
"We have to go back." Morticia gave him a droll stare, hadn't she taught him better? She sighed and handed him a handkerchief, shaking her head all the while. Gandalf gave her a look, which she returned two fold.
"You will have to go without many a comfort before this journey is over, Master Baggins." Bilbo looked scandalized. She chortled.
Yes. This was going to be fun.
.0.0.0.
The first night they stopped, it was on a rocky hillside, well, it was actuallt more of a cliff. She combed out Bilbo's hair (him complaining all the while that he was a "grown Hobbit, thank you very much.") picking out the little twigs that had gotten into the tight curls.
"Could you please braid my hair, Bilbo? I forgot to before we left." Bilbo huffed and puffed up like a Cardinal but moved behind her. The reactions from the Dwarves was surprise. Hair and braids were a serious thing to a Dwarf. Most of the grooming was taken care of by the Dwarf or by close family. Or a lover.
It was obvious what they thought that Bilbo was to her. And frankly . . . .
Ew.
"Fishtail?" he asked while running a comb through her hair.
"Yes, please." She hummed a happy melody, a long forgotten song though the tune stayed with her. It felt nice to have someone else style her hair for once, she didn't usual even let the children play with it. When he was done, quite nicely done just as she told him, she coiled it up and stuck it in place with a few senbon since she didn't have hair sticks.
Soon the Company (and was now with a capital letter, there was really no other feeling about it. It was important now, if not to her then to Bilbo) settled down to sleep. Four Dwarves, Gandalf, and Morticia were the only ones awake while Bilbo tossed and turned. Her little Hobbit couldn't take it anymore and got up.
Morticia watched him wander away to sneakily, but not even remotely like that, feed the pony he rode on an apple. Wargs were heard in the distance. Orcs, foul creatures with only a hunger for blood and destruction, were almost always near when a Warg could be heard. And then there was an Orc screech just after the Warg howl.
It quickly devolved into a retelling of how the Dwarf leader, now known to her as Thorin Oakenshield of the line Durin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, became a king. The one telling the story, a Dwarf of white hair and a beard split at the bottom like a mermaid tail, was called Balin. Pleasant fellow.
The one to make the food was Bombur, a rather rotund Dwarf. The one with hair that made her think of a star fish (did those even exist anymore?) was named Nori, and he was the one with sticky fingers. The two that looked like Thorin were still unnamed. As were the others.
But they were all awake by the time the story was over.
It took a long time for the others to settle back down and sleep. Morticia sharpened her blades as she watched them slumber, the only one that got close was Bilbo.
.0.0.0.
The next day it rained buckets, making the path muddy and slippery even where none had tread. A white, though mostly gray, haired Dwarf asked if Gandalf could stop it. The wizard's answer was slightly sarcastic, but was definitely a resounding no. It got Bilbo asking about if there were other wizards in existence. It got a smile from Morticia, at least Bilbo was no longer thinking about the rain.
Morticia sort of wished for a horse, but she was fine, never slipping in the slick mess that was the ground or getting mud in her shoes.
.0.0.0.
They came to a stop, some days later after mucking through mud and being cold the whole time (she feared Bilbo would get sick because the fire was not enough to dry anything, not even clothes hung by it. All the shelter they had found was not dry enough, none of them staying dry even if they changed clothes, and her magic wasn't good for such situations), at the remains of a small house, more of hut, that had been taken over by nature. It smelled absolutely foul, like . . . like Troll. It made her uneasy.
On the bright side, she learned the other Dwarves names. Although Fili and Kili were always together. She didn't know which was which. But Thorin pissed off Gandalf, who stormed away.
When it was dinner she made the excuse of getting more fire wood to search around for the Trolls, that scent had been too new for them to have moved on, and more to the point, Trolls tended to stay in a hole and go hunting in a circle around it.
She found the hole, Troll sized so it was more of a cave, that stunk so strongly of Troll it made her dry heave. She ran back to tell the others, but they were all gone, even Bilbo.
Shit!
Morticia circled in ever widening circles around the camp until she smelled the Trolls, well she could always take care of the stupid things after she found Bilbo.
But what if Bilbo and the Dwarves were captured? It was almost day break, if the Trolls had them, they were soon to be eaten!
With that thought turning itself around her mind she followed the scent. Soon she saw boot prints, sized to Dwarves, heading toward the smell. Those idiots.
Jumping to the trees she quickly found the Troll camp, and saw Bilbo saying that they all had parasites. Huffing, she circled (she seemed to be doing that a lot recently) to a large stone behind the Trolls. Just as the stupid creatures were catching on, she shouted.
"BILBO BAGGINS!" Morticia roared, enjoying when all of them flinched (including the soon to be dead Trolls), stomping on the stone to make it crumble away and let in the sunlight to the little clearing. She noticed a flash of gray fabric just before drawing her broadsword and cutting off the nearest Troll's graying arm. She didn't watch as the arm broke on the ground, heading to the next to do the same and the one after that in quick succession. She thrust out her hand, after the Trolls had completely turned to stone, putting out the fire with a jet of water. She slowly turned to Bilbo. "I go to fetch fire wood and you all almost get yourselves eaten! It's never like this when I go with female Hobbits, men haven't a lick of sense in their heads!"
Morticia took a few calming breathes, immediately regretting it because of the stench, but was better none the less. After a moment she sheathed her sword and pulled out a knife to cut all of the Dwarves tide to the spit free, letting them fall where they may, before cutting free the other Dwarves. She stood in front of Bilbo, gently kneeling to cut the rope on the sack he was in, cradling his face in her hands.
"You did very well with distracting them." She praised. "You did the right thing. I'm very proud of you, Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo Baggins and Belladonna Baggins nee Took."
It is safe to say that the Dwarves completely ruined this tender moment by shouting that they should all go plundering for Troll treasure. She had completely ignored what was going on with them and Gandalf until the shouting, she could have honestly gone for longer.
With a sigh she checked Bilbo for injury and, finding that he only needed a bath, went and punched one of the stone Trolls. It shattered in a most satisfying way.
The only good thing that came out of them pilfering through that hole was that Bilbo got a sword (she had forgot, like an idiot, to pack one for him or even one his size). Some of the bad was that they all smelled like Troll (and since their ponies were gone they all had to walk) she had to stand upwind of all of them.
This was one of the times that having superior senses, mainly smell because it was always her sense of smell, was not a good thing.
A noise, something large coming this way fast, from the forest startled her. A moment later the others heard it, all of them drawing their weapons. She pushed Bilbo behind her as she drew her claymore.
When it burst through, it turned out to be the wizard Gandalf had been talking about on that first pouring day.
The wizards talked about something she did not care for, it didn't involve her, the Company standing just out of hearing distance but within sight.
A Warg howl sounded. Much closer than it had been that first night.
"Shut up! We must go, no use for fighting." Gandalf had a point that they were being hunted, but the longer that they stood here, the sooner they would be caught.
"I'll draw them away." said the new wizard. That was good enough for Morticia. She hustled the others together to wait while he drew them off their trail.
Soon enough they were running, more like jogging for her, across a prairie that had few jutting boulders. While the other wizard was drawing them away, he sometimes led them close to where the Company was, making them have to suddenly hide.
This was herding if she ever saw it. The two wizards were obviously in cahoots about where they 'needed' to go. She didn't care, as long as Bilbo was safe.
The scenery was starting to look familiar, familiar as in she had been here in the last century. There should be a secret opening around here, leading to Rivendale. (Oh, hadn't that been what Gandalf and Thorin had been arguing about not too long ago?)
An Orc and it's Warg had been just above them, Kili(?) taking it down with his bow and some other Dwarves finishing them off, but not before alerting the other Orcs of their location.
The Orcs and Wargs cornered them at last, just as Gandalf disappeared. Morticia once again unsheathed her claymore, easier to maneuver than her broadsword, standing at the ready.
"This way, you fools!" Morticia didn't look back, as it seemed Gandalf had found the passage. Thorin called for the others to go in, defending the opening with her. She cut down many Wargs and their Orc riders before it was just Thorin and her out in the open.
"Get in!" Thorin ordered her.
"I think not!" she retaliated, kicking him down the opening and fighting off Wargs. "Keep going, I'll be along soon!"
In moments after she couldn't hear couldn't hear them, arrows started raining down, a battle horn sounding. Elves on horses appeared and, with their help, all of the Orcs but one were dead and the few surviving Wargs were on the run. She was breathing heavily (gods, she was out of shape), staying ready in case the Elves turned on her.
"My lady." Greeted the only one to not have a white horse, bowing while on his horse. He looked familiar. "I am King Elrond of Rivendale."
"Ah, Lord Elrond." Yes, she remembered him now. "I haven't seen you in sixty years. How are your three children?"
"They are well." He gave her a quick once over. "I can not seem to recall your name, my lady."
"I am Morticia, Protector of all Hobbits." she said, saying it exactly as she had all those years ago. "I guide a Hobbit to what they wish and need."
"You look just the same!" She smirked, finally putting away her sword.
"I know." She adjusted her sword straps. "We need to head to Rivendale quickly. My Company is on the way there using this passage."
"Ah, it may take a bit long, since we do not have a horse for you." Elrond apologized. Morticia smiled. Just because her arms were no longer used to swinging a sword, it did not mean that her legs were just as bad.
"I think I'll race you to Rivendale." And was off before any of them could speak. When they were abreast to her, she sped up. She showed off cartwheels, back-flips, front-flips, and just had fun as she stayed a minimum of ten feet in front of them. When the path narrowed so that only one horse at a time could pass, she switched to back-flips all the way to the palace. The last back-flip landed her right next to Bilbo, quickly crouching to hug him. She paid no attention to how the Dwarves reacted to the Elves, only to Bilbo as she made certain he was alright.
He had a scrape over the top of his right foot, but that would heal quickly and even faster after a bath. She hoped he had spare clothes, if not then she could get the Elves to make some for him. The ones he had on could use a good wash and some mending.
She nudged him forward to the palace with the others when they went inside. But a thought struck her. Elves didn't really eat meat, did they?
"Lord Elrond, might I make use of your kitchens?" He looked at her strangely.
"What for?" he asked instead of answering.
"I would assume that your people would not like to cook the meat I have brought with me." Morticia replied. "I would not like to make your people uncomfortable."
"My staff can cook it, if you will give it to them." Elrond was a nice host. Not even mentioning how troubled it made him feel (nor how she made him feel) that non-vegetarians were in his midst. She handed bundles to two Elves that approached on Elrond's signal. They all looked at the bag strangely, since she had pulled out more than it looked like two could hold. (The wonders of magic. Infinite storage, and stasis. The meat was just as if the animal had been slain an hour ago.)
"Thank you, Lord Elrond." This time in Elvish (whatever the name of the language was, she couldn't think of it. Bilbo would know), making a smile form on his face. With that she joined the Company, telling them the good news since they were faced with only greenery (they were so confused and disgusted) and Elven music. "I gave them some meat to cook, you won't starve just yet."
A cheer went through all of them, her Hobbit looked relieved, happily chattering away now. She chose to sit by Bilbo and Balin, slowly eating a salad as she waited for the meat to be done. Elves were known for being excellent cooks, when they cooked, and she wondered how they would handle the meat. She had given them beef, venison, pork and chicken. She hoped they wouldn't burn anything. And that they made bread. She hadn't thought to pack any and was sorely missing it.
At the other table with Elrond, Gandalf and Thorin, the Elf king was saying the name of each sword they had procured from the Trolls. Bilbo got a little gloomy when Balin said that his was a glorified letter opener.
"Don't worry, Bilbo." Morticia told him. "He won't say that when you get back into the swing of it. So, when was the last time you practiced?"
"With you." he mumbled.
"Bilbo Baggins." she chided in English. "You know better than that. I'll have reteach you everything."
"Everything?" Bilbo squeaked in Common, horrified.
"Yes, everything." she replied in Common. "And this time I'll use a stick instead of gently adjusting. You will be treated as a grown Hobbit."
He looked torn between saying that he was grown and begging her not to use a stick. Small slaps and nudges were one thing, but a stick was something else.
"What are you talking about, lass?" Balin asked.
"Bilbo hasn't practiced his sword lessons since he was ten and eight!" Morticia gestured to the Hobbit in question, who was now fifty in age. The Dwarves were horrified and surprised. "I teach children young, but when an adult comes back and has not maintained the skill then I am harsher. You had better hope that you remember quickly, little Baggins. For I am not merciful when re-teaching."
Bilbo shuddered at the warning.
Not a moment too soon, Elves came in with the meat. And bread! The bread was just as it was the last time she was here, flaky, buttery, the barest hint of herbs, and absolutely delicious.
.0.0.0.
Later that night the Elf king, Gandalf, Thorin, Balin, Bilbo and Morticia gathered away from the others. Thorin and Gandalf argued about a map, something they were unable to read.
Had they honestly not paid attention when she said could read all?
"Moon runes." Gandalf breathed, Morticia sighed.
"These runes were written by the light of a crescent moon on a Midsummers eve." Elrond said, holding the paper in the moon light. "That is not until two days from now. I offer you to stay here as wish, replenish your supplies, get rest, and be in comfort while we wait for the moon."
"It seems that you were meant to come to Rivendale." Morticia snarked. She glanced at Bilbo to see that look in his eye. The look of the One. She looked back to the two Dwarves. Balin, good dwarrow though he was, was just not what would click with Bilbo. Thorin, grumpy and stressed, was what would click with Bilbo, mainly what was under all the gruff and duty.
Morticia was already bemoaning how this would work out. Why couldn't Bilbo's One be Kili or Fili? Or Bofur? Or any other of the Company? But she would accept it, except if Thorin harmed Bilbo, for her Hobbit would miss his One.
.0.0.0.
"Bilbo, how long ago did we set out on this journey?" she asked as she whittled a piece of maple. It, whatever it turned out to be, would be a parting gift to Elrond, for his wonderful hospitality (how he had not thrown out the Dwarves that constantly made a mess, broke things on purpose and accident, and had nothing good to say about anything Elvish, was completely beyond her. She'd have tossed them out in ten minutes, or at least told them off. Elves, or at least Elrond, had the patience of saints). Perhaps she would make it into a figurine of Elrond in his hunting armor. He had been quite handsome while in it, riding his horse regally. Just a tad more graceful than the other Elves he rode with.
"We left eight days ago." he said after a moment. She thought of all the winding ways they had took to get this far.
"We're making good time then." Making it to Erebor would normally take, if the roads were followed, three months from the Shire. How long ago did she travel that way? It was maybe six centuries ago. She hadn't gone all the way into the mountain, just to Dale. But it had been just her at the time, and she could travel quickly on her own (even when enjoying the scenery and culture), but with all of the Company? It would take, possibly, five months. With all that had happened, and how many setbacks there had been and would be with how everyone's luck was, it was likely that they would take until Durin's Day – that was their deadline wasn't it? "This will be all behind us by winter."
"Will it take that long to travel beck to the Shire from the Lonely Mountain?" Morticia pressed her lips together to stop from laughing. Bilbo had absolutely no idea what he had gotten himself into. She ignored his question, looking to the Dwarves talking in their language (whatever Dwarf language was called).
"I don't think they believed me when I said that I speak all." Morticia told Bilbo in English, long forgotten by any but her and those she had taught it to.
"Why do you say that?" He answered in English, just as she knew he would.
"They are talking about what a good tumble I would be." She looked at him when he choked on smoke from his pipe. She immediately crouched down next to him and patted him roughly on the back. "Are you alright? Here, have some water."
Bilbo gratefully took the water, sipping and coughing lightly before handing it back. She stayed by him, not caring that the others continued on with breaking furniture.
"That's incredibly rude!" he exclaimed at last, not even a rattling breath left, getting redder at the thought. "You are a lady!"
"I am older than anything seen here." Morticia grinned at his scandalized tone. "It is common fact in the Shire that I have not lain with any, but to them I must have much experience in carnal pleasures. It is natural to assume such things about anyone in my position. Besides, it's not as if I'm going to have a tumble with any of them."
She laughed when Bilbo choked on air, pulling him into a hug before picking up the maple and her knife.
"Here." Morticia offered, holding out a goblet of wine. "It should help to sooth your throat."
"Yes, thank you." He didn't take a sip. After a few minutes he spoke. "No one should assume things like that. It's not right."
"Ah, and there is my teaching right there." She said softly, a smile just as soft on her lips. "I'm glad you think so, Bilbo. It is better to accept than to judge what you know not."
"That's what you say to all of the fauntlings, just after the story of the Kindly Gold Girl." Bilbo's smile was just as fond and loving. A thoughtful look came over his face. "Maybe you should tell them stories as well. Bring them into the fold, so to speak."
"You always did come up with the most marvelous ideas, Bilbo Took-Baggins." In reward she gave him an apricot tart, not caring what the others thought. "I think I'll do that when we set up camp next."
But, would the Dwarves actually pay attention when she told them she was going to tell a tale? Dwarves were like most races in 'Middle Earth' in the fact that women were not a first, second, or even third thought in most minds (at least the last time she had met one, some centuries ago). They would probably discourage or make fun of her.
"Uh, little rabbit, Dwarves are not like Hobbits. They usually look down on the fairer sex." It was good to see the astonished look in his eyes, it said that she had done her job well when teaching young Hobbits.
"Well, then," His cunning little mind was going at light speed, a stubborn lilt to his jaw. "I'll just ask you to tell one and they'll gradually listen in."
She beamed at him. He made her so proud. Her eyes got a little misty and she looked away, covering her face. She sniffled a little, blinking away the moisture.
"You do me proud, Bilbo." Morticia choked out, gently running her hands through his curly hair. He feebly pushed at her hand, blushing scarlet again.
"I'm past my majority!" He yelped indignantly, accidently slipping back into Common. She answered in Common, since they both had the Dwarves curiosity peaked.
"I know, I was the one that made you your cake and over half of the food." The large Dwarf perked up, Bombur, more than the others. "I also gave you a good many of your books."
"Yes, you even gave me a copy of your favorite." Bilbo said with a smile.
"Indeed." She looked about the room, spying a passing Elf from the hallway outside the sitting room. "Have you been practicing your Elvish?"
"You are the only one I can talk to in Sindarin or Quenya." Bilbo gently reminded her.
"Well, there are Elves a plenty here." Morticia gestured widely. "Go practice what Belladonna and I taught you. The people here seem most interested in others outside their land. The only one who will come near me is Elrond and his children, so you'll have to go on your own."
He looked uncertain for a moment, glancing longingly to the door.
"You're a Hobbit, it's your nature to be a gentle creature." Then she leaned in to whisper in his ear. "And who knows? You might lure an Elven lass, or make your One jealous by not talking to him."
He sputtered and ran off, leaving his pipe. Morticia took it and smoked from it as she carved Elrond in armor, ignoring the Dwarves for the most part. Until one of the younger ones approached.
"Miss, at the beginning of the journey, you said that you were the Maid of Death." Morticia nodded to Ori's statement. "That means you've been around a long time. So what's it like, to live so long?"
"For some it is a blessing, for some it is a curse, for others it may be a blessing turned curse, for others still, it is a curse turned blessing, and some can not see it as any." She refused to look up from the carving. "I am one that it is a blessing and a curse. It is possible to live too long."
"W-well, you must have seen many battles and things that later became stories, could tell me any?" She thought about his request. What battles – that would make sense to people of 'Middle Earth' – had she actually seen and been a part of?
"Hmm. Well, I was at the Battle of the Powers." This got exclamations from all of the Dwarves. So she told them about how much of an idiot Melkor was, approaching Children of Ilúvatar. Morticia had been there to meet with Enelyë, Enel's wife, to settle who would be the midwife of her first child. Her children are the ancestors of the Lindar or "the singers" – but now called Teleri. Melkor had hoped to enslave them, but this is when the Maiar came to be – as it is now known – and when the Valar first intervened in the business of Arda. Enel had asked for Morticia to help capture Melkor so that his child may live happily in peace. She had been unable to deny his request and had beaten Melkor within an inch of his life, delivering him into the arms of the Valar so that he may be imprisoned in Valinor. "And then Enelyë went into labor and I had to cut her open or risk losing both her and the babe. By the time I had the child out, she had thrown two trees at Enel."
All the dwarrow laughed uproariously, many of them falling over. Morticia could hear a few Elves twittering from the doorway. She goaded the Elves in Sindarin.
"If I am so amusing, you should pay homage by letting me see you. I would like to know who enjoys my stories." They quieted for a moment but came into view. It was Elrond's two sons, and a young She-Elf – not old enough to start fighting lessons but old enough to know how to use a bow. "I know the two halves of a whole, but who might you be, young one?"
"I am Aleine, daughter of Elrond." She spoke rather eloquently for one so young.
"You certainly look like a sunbeam." The little girl preened under the compliment, her blue eyes shining more than her blonde hair. "How old are you?"
"I am three and twenty, my lady." Oh, Morticia was lost! Lost in those beautiful eyes of a child. She could hear Elladan and Elrohir hiding chuckles. They had known, the little shits. "Why are the others afraid to come near you? You are a nice person from what I can see."
Morticia wanted to hug this child so much.
"I am unnatural. Only ones that have been made, awakened, or are children." She lowered her face, unable to look at this innocent. "Of all the races that live, only Hobbits fully accept me, are unafraid of me."
Aleine cupped Morticia's face.