I do not own The Hobbit. Very sad :(


Chapter 11

Bilbo's Point of View

"Why am I referred to as a 'he' throughout the contract?" she asked calmly.

She looked to Gandalf and a sheepish expression came over the wizard's face as a throat or four was cleared at the table behind her. Was that embarrassment she detected?

"Yes, well," Gandalf coughed, "I may have neglected to tell our company otherwise," he admitted having the decency to not meet her eyes.

"Indeed," she commented dryly and turned to face the company as Balin began to speak.

"We assumed Mistress Baggins, as Gandalf never told us otherwise. And Bilbo is, well, excuse me for saying lass, but it sounds a lot like a lads name," the Dwarves all shifted uncomfortably as she remained silent. She couldn't remain so silent for long though and began to giggle, taking pity on the poor Dwarves who though they had insulted her with their assumptions about her name.

"That is because it is a boy's name, Master Balin," she told them once her giggling had stopped, and now frowns replaced the shifting.

"I am the result, or rather my name is, of what happens when you hand the wrapped up new-born to the shell-shocked new-father while also in the company of the record keeper," she smiled, just imagining how her father must have been that day.

There was an awkward silence and Bilbo used it to recover her cup of tea from in front of the fire and return to her spot inside the entrance to the dining room, cup in one hand and contract in the other.

In her absences several of the Dwarves had stood and were gesturing to their now empty seats.

Bilbo felt uncomfortable with the courtesy. Uninvited as they may be they were still her guests and obviously the majority of them were her elders and they were offering their chairs. The head chair was unoccupied but the grouchy late comer was standing in the corner and she didn't want to take his chair and possibly make him even more out of humour.

She noticed that one of the younger members of the group had also stood so she thankfully took his place, not feeling quite so bad, especially as her knees had begun to tremble – again – and she doubted she could stand for much longer. The young Dwarf blushed at her smile of thanks and pushed the chair in gently behind her so that she would be close enough to use the table.

"Poor father," she continued her story as the silence still hung thick in the air, "was so excited to have a child he didn't realise that Bilbo was not a suitable name for me. And so I have been Bilbo ever since," she stopped her rambling and looked around at the staring males.

Silly Bilbo! They didn't want to know all of that.

They continued to stare at her and she wondered if Dwarves didn't speak of such things that dealt or touched on child birth.

She quickly took a sip of her tea to try and steady herself and moved on.

What next?

She scanned her eyes over the paper.

"Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of the total profit if any," she mumbled under her breath, nodding her head in silent agreement with this, "Seems to be fair to me,"

She shook her head in amusement as she read once again over the section dealing with the plaque that would be erected in her honour should she die.

Very decent of them. Although I would love to know how I can pick the material and place if I am dead.

"Meals," she mumbled next, "So called second breakfast, morning or afternoon tea, or late supper are not included,"

Bilbo felt like announcing that she was quite capable of surviving on three (or less) meals a day thank you very much, but kept it to herself. In fact she found the thought of Balin panicking over feeding a tiny Hobbit with an apparently bottomless stomach seven meals a day while on a long journey highly amusing.

She giggled and continued to scan the document.

Ah yes, the pipeweed.

"Now, my father, grandfather and even a grandmother I have been told loved their pipes but I have never been partial to pipeweed myself," the smell of the burning dry-leaves reminded her so much of her father but the one time she had tried it at the urging of her cousins (really, she should have known better) she had rapidly vomited her afternoon tea, narrowly missing them. She had avoided it like the plague since, "So you'll excuse me if I don't go out of my way to steal any?" there was a chuckle or two and she was sure that Balin was blushing. He nodded his head in agreement.

"I do however have a barrel of the stuff in storage that you are more than welcome too," heaven knew she was never going to smoke the horrible stuff and she only kept it around for when her uncles paid the occasional visit. There was an outpouring of thanks from the table except from Thorin who continued to scowl from the corner. She shivered at his dark gaze fixed on her, glaring.

Had he been staring the whole time?

She quickly dropped her eyes to the contract again and more nervously than before continued to mumble some of the words under her breath. She could feel the burning gaze on her now that she was aware of it and fought to ignore it, throwing herself into finding her next issue with the contract.

She only had one more problem with the contract and it was a pretty big one and one that Gandalf had been dancing around.

"Now then Gandalf, how about this 'so-called 'pest-control'' that can lead to the lacerations, incineration etc, and how the 'Present company'," she waved at the room to indicate the Dwarves, "'is not obliged' to lend a hand with it,"

There was an outbreak of mumbling in a language she couldn't understand and someone from behind her took the contract from her hand with a "Excuse me Mistress Baggins," and the next thing she knew there was a little group of them – including the imposing but comforting Dwalin – studying the contract in the hallway. She shrugged in confusion and continued with addressing the wizard who had left his chair by the fire and was standing slightly hunched in the hallway to the side of the growing group. The wicked and vindictive side of her hoped that he would hit his head on the light.

It would serve him right if he did.

"I have dealt with a mouse or two," there was a huff of sarcastic amusement from the direction of Thorin and she bristled inwardly, "but any have yet to try to bite off my arm or burn me to a crisp," she quirked an eyebrow.

Bilbo's hands began to shake now that they were empty and she quickly tucked them out of sight on her lap and clenched them together.

"The dragon, my dear,"

She was beginning to get a little annoyed with getting the same answer over and over again.

"Yes, I understood that part Gandalf and I will ask you again. What good is a Burglar against a dragon?"

Silence once again fell between herself and her mother's old friend. The only sound in the room was coming from the Dwarves, who were still pouring over her contract and mumbling among themselves just to the side of Gandalf.

She felt like she was being some petulant and moody child as the silence continued but surely she deserved an answer.

"I have every confidence in you Bilbo," Gandalf looked her in the eye as he spoke with utter conviction, "that should Smaug still be alive you will be just fine," Bilbo realised that though he may be speaking the truth he had not answered her question.

She sighed and sat back in the chair taking the opportunity to look around at the thirteen Dwarves. There were only a few of them still at the table as most of them were circling the contract.

She smiled shyly at the Dwarf who was sporting the axe through his head and the red headed one who looked like he could be rolled from place to place. Thorin's disapproving glower was no longer focused on her she was glad to see but on the group in the hall.

One of the older Dwarves – didn't he have a hearing horn not too long ago? – had a bag up on the table top and with the help of another he was rifling through it mumbling unknown words backwards and forwards and glances up at her every now and then and setting out little packets of herbs and leaves onto the table top.

Fili and Kili were still in their seats at the end of the table having a hushed conversation of their own and seemed to be blind and deaf to the rest of the room.

The others were all studying her contract with great animation and were constantly pointing between the document and Balin who was speaking rapidly in the unfamiliar language.

Thirteen Dwarves from an entire nation were being brave enough to try and reclaim their lost kingdom. It was going to be a dangerous quest most certainly and if she did accompany them she could die (would more than likely die – no one could ever accuse Bilbo of not being a realist). But in the grand scheme of things what was one little Hobbit compared to reclaiming the home of thousands of Dwarves.

The more harsh and cynical side of Bilbo's mind was not quite so self-sacrificing as all of that though.

Just where are all of these thousands of Dwarves now?

Hiding in their Iron Hills and playing the 'this quest is yours' tune.

Bilbo had read enough history books to know how it would play out.

Should the quest succeed those who had been too cowardly to step up when needed would be all too happy to profit from the success.

And should it fail?

Well, they had lost nothing and had a poor group of idiots to laugh about when in drink and they could congratulate themselves in refusing to take part in such a ridiculous scheme.

Just the thought of it angered Bilbo, her sense of fairness and right rebelling at such an idea.

She needed to think, alone, quiet and – she looked up at Thorin – with no one glowering at her like she had just drowned a bag full of kittens in the river.

Bilbo stood. Her traitorous legs beginning to shake again but she straightened them stubbornly.

"I need to think Gandalf," she told the wizard who nodded his head in silent understanding.

"I won't be gone long. Help yourself to tea and whatever is left in the pantry,"

If they can find anything they deserve to eat it.

She headed to the door, swinging a cloak from the row of hooks around her shoulders. She paused with her hand on the latch.

"Can you…" she swallowed, "can you promise me I would come back. If…" she gulped again, "If I came," she faltered, not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

A shadow seemed to fall across Gandalf's eyes and he shook his grey head.

Bilbo felt something in her sink.

"Oh,"

"And if you did, you would never be the same, my dear,"

Bilbo gulped around the lump in her throat and nodded her head in acceptance. After all, it wasn't like he was telling her something she didn't know he had only clarified it.

At least he was honest.

She pulled the door open and stepped out into the cool night.

"I will be back shorty Gandalf," she pulled the door shut behind her and leaned against the sturdy wood, breathing steadily and taking in the stillness f the night.

She walked down the steps and took a seat on the bench.

How ironic. Just where this crazy day started.


Tada!

So I have internet access a bit earlier than expected and after trying a truly horrible attempt at a Smauglock I though I would post chapter 11 a bit earlier.

I hope you all enjoyed it!

Take care.

:)