WAIT!
HAVE YOU READ CHAPTER 33? OR 19-32? IF NOT, READ THOSE FIRST! I'VE BEEN UPDATING VERY QUICKLY IN THE LAST COUPLE OF MONTHS.
I return! After so many lovely reviews on the last chapter, I was super excited to start writing this- until my muse decided it had had quite enough and run off. The fun of being considered an essential worker in a time of world-wide crisis, amiright.
I may also have some news for you all in our next chapter, so stay sharp for that!
Inspired by a prompt I stumbled upon by lateforerebor on tumblr.
Summary: Bilba "Bell" Baggins decides that she's waited quite long enough to take her mother's advice and old stories and go on an adventure of her own. What she didn't expect was to end up in Ered Luin and be adopted by dwarves! AU, Pre-Quest, Nori/Bilba.
-;-
Elves.
Of all the blasted things in the world, it had to be elves. For once, Thorin had actually been right about something- it was the fault of the elves; and wasn't that interesting. Rather, Bilba supposed, it was about time his suspicions of the Tall Folk were correct when afforded the opportunity. After all, even the most broken of clocks were right once every now and again.
Quite frankly, in the regard of the dark mutterings, Bilba was about ready to find a heavy rock and attempt to beat the sense so obviously lacking into Thorin's thick skull but decided against it.
(Considering he was a leader of an entire race of dwarves, someone might take offense to something like that.)
Being exhausted as they were, the hobbit probably should have anticipated the company's ailing mental state, deteriorating into the closest thing to madness she could comfortably say the further they walked into Mirkwood's waiting maw. Which, come to think of it, was the reason she hadn't paid Thorin any mind when he'd first started on about elves.
She made mental note to keep a closer watch on the elf talk and definitely intervene if Thorin managed to have a run in with any of the fair race in the near future.
Time was an elusive thing, too; the only way the hobbit could accurately gauge the days they'd been traversing the sickly woodland was the weight falling from her hips. Again. The first few pounds hadn't been noticeable- yes, she'd felt ill since dismounting the ponies at the edge of the wood, but she was certain it was more whatever made Mirkwood so dark at fault.
Beorn had not been lying when he said the wood was ill. It was a cloying sort of pressure that clogged the senses and alluded to something Other: it dragged at their heels, clouding their minds the more they continued on.
It was easy to hide the weight at first.
Bilba knew how protective her dwarrow were by now; since the mountain pass and thunder battle, all of them seemed dead set on keeping their eye on the hobbit and her general wellbeing for the first few days. Honestly, she couldn't blame them a bit for it. It was a drastic change indeed to go from clean, open to something that made her neck prickle around each corner and the energy sucked out of the soles of her hairy feet.
Once some of the light left their eyes, it became a lot harder not to notice her skirts loosening at the hips, the fabric dropping in ways she'd thought behind her. If her dwarves were still slightly saner rather than bumbling and muttering about nonsense things, it may have been another matter.
But, Hobbits were made of sterner stuff than most folk tended to realize; true, she was a bit older than most adventurous faunts, but it was not the first time Bilba had gone without enough food and it definitely would not be the last at the rate this company was going.
(She digressed.)
Everything seemed to implode at once, starting with one fateful morning.
To say it was a particularly grueling experience was an understatement; Thorin woke as though he'd slept on a bed of sharp sticks and hot coals, snapping at anyone and everyone within a ten-foot radius as though he were a cornered animal.
See aforementioned muttering about elves for context.
That, and the paranoia.
With that joyful notation, it was worth mentioning that rather than dealing with a handful of narrow-minded, suspicious dwarrow hell-bent on getting to their long lost dwarven mountain, she was now dealing with near the entire company.
Fili and Kili, usually the most boisterous of the pack, had ceased their antics some time ago. None of their usual cheer followed them as they shuffled along; Kili was tucked protectively against Fili's side in some measure of comfort, the elder brother watchful as he kept his head on a swivel.
Bilba worried about them perhaps the most of their company.
Her menfolk in particular, she'd learned, seemed a league of their own in terms of their paranoid protective tendencies, but the hobbit loved them all the more for it- current circumstances not withstanding.
Nori seemed introspective as of late, his thoughts turning further inward more each day. Bilba suspected old memories of some kind were being stirred up with their proximity to Erebor, but she knew better than to pry when the ginger haired dwarrow seemed reluctant to share. Never mind the unresolved matter of Dori and Nori's damaged relationship- of which neither male seemed terribly inclined to address any time soon.
Probably for the best. Creepy, diseased forests were not exactly the best place to sort out these things, even if Bilba's Hobbity nature craved some kind of fodder for conversation.
She settled for musing on her visions instead; or rather, lack thereof.
It had been some time since Bilba had any solid visions or even flickers of what might be waiting on the horizon. Not that she had ever asked for them, but she couldn't help but lean into them for some comfort, however small. Lord Elrond's words had been rattling around her thoughts more frequently without much else to distract her- which was probably a clear sign she'd been wandering around the woods too long if she wasn't as unnerved by the thought of visions that left her a shaken mess.
The path narrowed to a point barely wide enough for one dwarf, let alone the number they made. Thorin called for a halt, peering into the shadowy ravine the path overlooked. Bilba didn't want to dwell too long on how far a fall it would have to be for it to be so dark.
"We stop here for now." He said, just loud enough for them to spread the word amongst themselves. "Be wary- who knows what might be watching us."
Bilba shuddered, glancing around warily. There was naught but thickly trunked trees with cracking bark that stretched as far up as the eye could see, branches twisting into something of a natural ladder.
"Should we scout ahead?" she asked, tilting her head back as an idea crossed her mind. "I think I could climb up to see how much further until we reach the end of the wood."
"It would waste too much time." Dwalin growled, pivoting to set her with an unsettling stare. "We need to keep moving. Durin's Day is coming too soon."
"Which does us no good if we're simply wandering in circles." She snapped back. "In which it was all for naught."
Thorin, to his credit, actually looked thoughtful, a pensive frown on his features as he glanced up into the trees. As though they would offer some measure of answer.
"Perhaps it would not be such a bad thing." He mused, staying Dwalin as the guard bristled at the hobbit. "We have been wandering for so long in this accursed place we do not know if we have strayed from the path."
"If Bilba goes, I go." Nori said immediately, tone suggesting it was not open to discussion. "We don't know what might be crawlin' up that canopy."
The trio of Ur looked as though they wanted to speak, but it was clear none of them would be as much use to their hobbit as the thief might be. It was clear to the others of the company the words rang true- several of the dwarrow shifted as they glanced between Thorin and the infamous ginger haired thief.
"Very well." The heir finally nodded, jerking his head upward. "We will break here and continue on once you have returned."
Bilba nodded, hands instinctively going to her knives to assure herself they were still there. The weight had never felt more familiar as Nori brushed by, eyes meeting hers for a moment before he offered her a step up to a twist in the bark- a natural foothold in the trunk. Still, it was natural for her to sink into the ease of climbing, her toes digging into the tree the same as her fingers, finding holds others might struggle with. She remembered Rivendell and the quiet tranquility she had found climbing the trees there, compared it to her current predicament.
Nori wasn't far behind as they clambered further and further into the dim canopy until finally, Bilba's head broke through the last layer of coppery autumn leaves to the sight of the setting sun.
For the first time in what seemed to be forever, the hobbit finally inhaled a lungful of clean, fresh air. A strange calm settled over her as she saw the tops of the trees shifting in the wind, the soft rustling a quiet song of familiarity and life. She wept at that, the tears cold against her cheeks as she stretched her hands above her in an attempt to catch the sun itself. A hobbit was never meant to be kept away from the light and beating heart of the world, after all.
"I can see the mountain!" she cried, turning her eyes to the horizon. "It isn't much further-"
Something large, hairy, and distinctly un-dwarrow slammed into her legs, knocking her from her precarious position on a bough and sending her tumbling down, down, down.
-;-
With everything as upside-down as it had been in recent history, Bilba felt as though she should have felt just a touch more surprise at waking in an unfamiliar room, dim light shining through what appeared to be a thickly rooted canopy of a ceiling.
Regardless, her first thoughts should have been more along the lines of panic as she instinctively burrowed deeper into the warm and quite comfortable fabrics that surrounded her- until she registered where, exactly, she was.
The spiders!
Now there was a thought that had the hobbit throwing herself into a more upright position, hands blindly fumbling for weapons that weren't there. The motion was aborted by the less than graceful spasm her body shuddered through as every inch of her protested the motion.
Throughout a great many things, Bilba had never quite found herself so panicked at the fear of having lost the twin blades Dis had forged, let alone her company of dwarrow or any of the other belongings she had managed to cling onto since the beginning of the quest. Her gaze roved the room, blindly cataloguing the environment for any clues to where, exactly, here was.
She remembered falling through the trees, thick limbs unyielding to her slight weight as she got a very personal view of the absolutely monstrous spider that was dragging itself across the bark she had been standing on moments before. After that, it was naught but impressions of things. Her hands gripping the leather-bound hilts of her weapons, the mind-numbing fear that thrummed through her core as she found herself praying to anyone that was listening that she lived long enough to find herself an old hobbit lass. Dying in a rotting mound of ancient trees was not on her agenda, thank you very much.
But after that, nothing.
Cursing, Bilba wracked her mind for anything that might help her sort out what situation she found herself in now. Simply looking around the room provided ample clues; the strangely tasteful décor in collaboration with the rest of the room suggested she had fallen in the lap of the Woodland elves.
Distantly, she recalled Arwen mentioning something about the lord- Thranduil, if memory served correct. Not one to meddle in the matters of those outside his own court, he had lost a wife many years earlier- likely an Age, if Bilba were to guess. Since then, things had soured between the lands they shared with the dwarrow of Erebor until coming to a head on the day Smaug attacked the mountain.
Hm.
If there were any who might feel the need to worry, it would be Thorin-bloody-Oakenshield. She knew just enough about the tense relations between dwarrow and elf alike to know that if she had ended up in his kingdom, it was more than likely her company had also. She refused to think of what the alternative may be- she refused to consider Nori and her dwarves being anything else.
She exhaled, flinching as her ribs and shoulder protested the motion. So much for Gandalf's healing, she sulked. She was bruised six ways to Sunday, and Yavanna only knew how many more silver hairs would be coming of this particular adventure.
Either way, Bilba would be having words with the heir apparent when she finally got her hands on him. Running off after shadows in the trees was a muleheaded move at the best of times; never mind when there was no sign of the end of the road, food was scarce and he was supposed to be the bloody confounded leader of their sorry lot!
Bilba felt mightily as though she would rather make a cup of tea and lie right back down again. But if she went down that path, there would truly be no one to rescue her company and get their sorry arses well on their way to the Lonely Mountain.
Truly, their luck knew no bounds.
Perhaps it was the presence of the hobbit that had done it?
She considered it for a moment before snorting and shaking her head. That definitely couldn't be it; she was usually the one somehow committed to getting them out of the trouble. Not starting it- or not doing so intentionally, that is.
Unless it had something to do with Gandalf.
Needless to say, there was a great deal of complexity to her thoughts as she sat there debating with herself- frankly, it made her feel a greater deal more foolish than much else. There was little that dwelling on matters that had already happened would solve now.
The door clicked- Bilba recognized the sound as a lock but didn't bother pretending sleep. An elf entered; his features remained neutral as he murmured something to someone. Bilba caught a snippet of a sharper tone, the flash of coppery hair before the door closed behind her guest.
He was tall and lean, as most elves tended to be, hair nearly the shade of starlight and his eyes an intense blue she could see even across the room. Despite his relaxed bearing, the hobbit was not so much a fool to realize that this was no social visit.
"I am glad to see you awake, small one." He greeted, hands clasped loosely behind his back. His tunic shimmered pale amber in the warm light that filtered through the ceiling above. "There was a time the healers feared you would not wake."
She chose silence; in part due to the dry ache in her throat, in part due to caution.
He sighed, the sound near imperceptible. To his credit, he did look truly remorseful at her unflinching silence.
"Why were a company of dwarves and a single halfling from the west found wandering our wood?" he asked instead, wandering to a low seat and arranging himself upon it. "Your kind do not spend much inclination on wandering your borders, nor do dwarves see fit to mingle freely with those who are not their kin."
Of course he had seen the braids and the beads- elves were old, but they were hardly so stupid as to ignore a clear sign such as that. It meant that she could not pretend that she was not intrinsically linked to the company, or travelling as their companion.
Still, there was some measure of honest curiosity to his question.
"There are always exceptions." She said instead, coughing as her throat protested the words.
The elf moved before the fit subsided, offering a ladle of clean water. Bilba drank gratefully, the taste fresh on her tongue. It had been quite some time since she or any of the company had had such luxuries as clean drinking water. The forest was too tainted for any food or drink to be found, nor had Bilba ever encouraged it thanks to Beorn's warnings.
"How long have I been-?"
"Several days. Your injuries were extensive." He said evenly.
"Falling from a tree will do that to you." She muttered, shifting her weight off of her hip. "I'm getting too bloody old for these kinds of things."
"Do your race age so swiftly?"
"Does yours ask so many questions out of idle curiosity?"
It took him aback, though he hid it well. A hint of a smile floated at the edge of his mouth for several long moments before he nodded, returning to his seat and watching her with eyes that seemed to see too much.
"My prince, you've been sent for."
Bilba's gaze snapped to the new visitor, eyes narrowing as she studied him. She was taken aback by him- not only for his words, but his unusual coloring. Compared to the elves she had become acquainted with in Rivendell, he fit none of the traits she expected. He had long, coppery hair like autumn leaves pulled back from his features and eyes a sharp hue that reminded her of turmoiled waters. Still, there was something to them that made her think the pair were somehow related.
"Your timing is impeccable as ever, gwanur." The blond- the prince- said.
"As is yours. The king is not so easily dissuaded." The new elf returned lightly. "He has… questions."
"Hn."
They exchanged a look, silently communicating in a way that suggested a long-term familiarity. Finally, the blond sighed, getting to his feet with a frown that suggested their silent conversation was not over.
"The company-" Bilba blurted, before her mind could stop her. "Please. How do they fare?"
Neither answered her, leaving the room and closing the door firmly behind them. Bilba clambered upright, ignoring the pain in her limbs as she stumbled to the door, hands trying the knob that was almost too tall for her to reach. Of course, it remained closed- they had locked it behind them so that she was unable to leave.
She felt as though she were nothing but a faunt again, misbehaving and being punished for something she had no control over.
The tears came unbidden, then, carving into the skin of her cheeks as she sniffed, trying to hold herself together. Her hands sought out the braids that somehow remained in her hair, tracing the patterning on the beads and clung to the hope that her dwarrow were alright.
They had to be.