Chapter Thirty-Three: Belladonna
T.A. 2879 Bag End
"Alright, Belladonna," Rose Chubb says in a soothing voice that makes the other hobbit want to hit her. "One more push and we should be welcoming that precious new life into the world."
As far as Belladonna is concerned this should have been over and done with hours ago. She's exhausted and her mind is hazy with the pain of her contractions and the herbal teas Rose and her daughter, Iris, have been giving her to help. There is no denying that the Chubb ladies know their work well. Even the occupants of Bree, the Men and the few dwarves who live there, have been known to seek out hobbit midwives over those of their own kind. With their high birth rate (and secret magics) there is little they don't know or haven't tried when it comes to lowering the mortality rate of hobbit mothers and faunts.
One could argue that they are too successful, in a generation or two the Shire will be starting to become rather overcrowded.
A single last, great, push and Belladonna collapses back against her pillow as a wave of exhausted euphoria sweeps over her. There is a moment of silence broken only by the murmur of the midwives and then a wail fills the room. She huffs an ecstatic laugh at the thin sound, barely even capable of lifting her head to see her child.
"Oh my," she hears Iris say and alarm floods her.
"Iris," the girl's mother berates her. Belladonna is already struggling to sit, desperate to see what has caused such a reaction. "You stay where you are, Mrs Baggins, I'm not done down here just yet. There's nothing wrong with your faunt, I assure you."
"But," Belladonna objects.
"There's nothing wrong," Iris keeps her voice soft, but Belladonna can see that her face is bathed in indigo in the dimly lit room. The lack of light isn't a problem for any of them, Belladonna being as strongly gifted as she is and the midwives having a little more than the average hobbit.
"You're sure?" She winces as she feels the tingle of healing. A tear, she thinks, having done her own share of midwifery during her travels.
"I swear it," Iris says, bringing the new born to the new mother. "I have never seen a faunt so powerfully blessed. Our Mother must have great plans for your daughter."
Belladonna's heart skips in her chest.
The fauntling glows. Not just her eyes, where she instinctively touches the life within the earth. It comes from every part of her and Belladonna thinks back to the stories of her birth when the midwives observed something similar, though not quite as brilliant. Every hobbit babe's life light is visible in the first hour following their birth. It allows the parents a brief glimpse of the green which characterises hobbits and differentiates their life lights from those of the other races. Some have a barely noticeable trace of indigo, indication that they are blessed in some way with an additional gift. The more indigo, the stronger the gift. Belladonna's always held more blue, but this faunt seems to have only the slightest trace of green.
Powerfully gifted indeed, and Belladonna isn't sure what to make of that. Of course, she wants her child to be special, every parent does, but it fills her with dread too. The edges of her child's 'light is jagged and frayed, a clear sign that there is another soul out there waiting to meet and connect with her. She will never find that soul in the Shire, Belladonna recognises the colours of the frayed parts and so recognises what they mean, and Bungo will never let her leave (she should think better of her husband but she's well aware of his failings).
"She will be like you, then," Bungo says upon meeting his daughter. His own life light flares briefly when she is placed in his arms, smooth green without even a hint of indigo. Bungo had no fated mate, free to choose for himself. Belladonna no longer knows if that is better than her situation or not. Better than having a found the other side of her life-bond but not able to be with him, or worse for knowing that the one you have married will be forever claimed by another.
"Is that so bad?" Belladonna is too exhausted to argue, the urge to sleep flutters on the edges of her awareness. There have been a great many arguments during this pregnancy, so many questions and doubts from Bungo because it had served as a push for Belladonna to get back in contact with Frerin. Bellladonna has no control over who Yavanna chooses as her cleric to do her work and nor would she wish to.
"There is nothing to be done for it," Bungo shrugs and hands their daughter back to her. "I suppose you would wish her named in the Tookish way."
"It is traditional," Belladonna says. Bungo is a great follower of tradition in all things. Many Tooks, however, are named for poisonous things and that doesn't sit well with the staunchly practical Baggins. "But, in deference to your family, I had thought Bluebell fitting."
Bungo mulls it over then inclines his head in a firm nod of agreement before departing the room. He leaves a chill in his wake.
T.A. 2941 Lake Town
Belladonna clings to her husband's arm as they follow the Men through their water-logged town. She has travelled extensively during her long life and has never felt quite so intimidated in a place of Men as she does here. Part of that, of course, is due to the fact that she feels nauseous and disjointed. There is no living earth beneath the frigid lake, not enough to make a difference with how far down it goes. Her head feels as though stuffed with rags and it makes the stares of the town's inhabitants harder and more dangerous than they likely are.
Of course, it's as likely to be the pregnancy making her feel unwell as it is the sudden separation from the earth. Her Blessing has been unstable since Bungo died and it's entirely possible her pregnancy is affecting it now as it once did when she carried Bluebell within her. She will be showing soon, she thinks, hobbit pregnancies last only six months normally given their tiny stature and they show quickly. Without their herbs most hobbit women would probably spend their entire married life pregnant. This pregnancy, she imagines, will last a little longer although she knows little of how it runs in dwarves.
"Are you alright?" Frerin asks her when they are finally led into a large hall in the most imposing building in town. Imposing, but not opulent.
They are greeted by quite the most corpulent Man Belladonna has ever laid eyes upon. There are hobbits who would be truly envious of the Man's figure, but they would also carry it better, with less grease and dirt. Hobbit's pride themselves on cleanliness, something they share with dwarves when it can be had (Frerin has told her tales of the great baths in the Lonely Mountain and she has never seen any take quite so much time on their hair as the gathered Company). The Man's nails are long and cracked, he waddles and smells in such a way that turns her sensitive nose and stomach. All she can do under such an onslaught is nod in response to her husband's question and hold onto him tightly. She hasn't missed the way the gathered men leer at her and her daughter, two tiny females among fifteen males.
"You hear some interesting things," the Man who must be this Master they have been brought to says. "Interesting tales from the bargemen of a company of dwarves and their halfling pets who have escaped a dungeon and kidnapped a prince."
Silence fills the room. The eyes of the Company turn upon their elf companion. They have long been suspicious of his motives, though Belladonna has no idea at all why Thorin has allowed the prince to remain with them beyond the borders of the woods. Only that Legolas could not return home, argued that he could not after setting them free, and so he would need supplies of his own. It only made sense to let him continue with them this far.
"Interesting rumours, indeed," Balin says, "but rumours are more often false than true. We are merely travelling to visit our kin and this elf has been our guide through the woods since the path is unsafe."
"And these two? They are certainly not dwarves and while I have never seen a halfling these could certainly be them," the Master leers at her and she shrinks back into Frerin.
Beside them Fili wraps his arm around Bluebell, apparently forcing his own struggles with the lake to one side when sensing a threat to her, and Kili steps closer. Their friendship has made them close, all four of them with Ori included, and it shows when a situation like this crops up. Shows when Kili steps in for Bluebell in the same way he would with his brother and in the way that Ori follows their lead and also draws near.
"My wife," Frerin snarls and the eyes of the vile Man turn towards Bluebell, although she is all but hidden by her guardians. "Our daughter," he adds, "also travels with us."
The Master of Lake Town withdraws a little, but the dwarves don't relax. Even Legolas is on edge and Belladonna wonders how much experience he really has with the Men of the Lake. She doubts it's all that much or the rumours the Men speak of would have rung false to them.
"All the same," the Master settles in a chair which can only be described as a throne which has seen better days. It is carved of wood, like the rest of the town, and once it must have been coated with gold and silver leaf that is now little more than a speckled memory. "We shall have to detain you until the truth can be determined one way or the other."
"You have no right," Thorin snaps and it's a wonder he has managed to remain silent this long.
"As the Master of this town I have every right."
Dwalin mutters something under his breath in Khuzdul. Likely something rude if the mutters of those around him is anything to go by.
"You cannot hold us," their leader continues.
"Indeed?" The Man smirks. "And who are you to be so certain of that?"
"I am Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror and no Man or Elf will stop me from reclaiming what is mine!" Belladonna doesn't hide her face in her hands, but it's a near thing. Thorin doesn't do well when his pride is pricked at.
The silence that follows is thick and heavy until, one by one, stunned voices can be heard speaking. Words of gold and silver. Treasure beyond imagination and wealth for everyone. 'The dwarves have a way in-' she hears more than once and feels the eyes upon them shift from suspicious to calculating. How best can they force the dwarves to give them a share of the wealth within the mountain, for whatever bargain may be struck here and now it will not be enough.
"You must know the tales of the times before Smaug," Thorin continues. "When Dale and the Men of the Long Lake grew wealthy on their trade with Erebor. Allow us to obtain the supplies we need, and those days could return."
"How are we to know your words are the truth?" The Master shrugs. "And not some pretty lie to take our goods and leave us wanting."
"As Prince of the Woodland Realm," Legolas speaks, "I had my own encounters with Thorin and Thrain, his father. This is, indeed, the exiled King Under the Mountain. You can accept his word as you would mine."
"A kidnapped prince?" The Master scoffs.
"I left of my own will and released my companions of it as well. The reasons are my own and not the concern of one such as yourself."
His cold arrogance is the same as Belladonna saw when his patrol took the Company prisoner and it makes her wonder which of his faces is the true one. The arrogant prince or the kind elf who refused to see her birth and raise her unborn child in a dim cell. In spite of herself she has found herself quite liking the prince, unable to hold the actions of his father against him in the same way many of the Company do. Even Bluebell distrusts him when she has been given no reason for suspicion. As far as the grumbling dwarves are concerned Legolas seems to have reverted back to exactly the person they had thought he was. They have no reason to trust him and centuries of history only compounds the issue. Only Ori seems dismayed by the emergence of this side of the elf, casting the tall blond sidelong looks that speak volumes to anyone who cares to see.
In the time it takes Belladonna to register the reactions of the others and her own dismay it would seem that the Master of this pitiful town has come to his own conclusions on the matter.
"We will happily supply you for your trip to the Lonely Mountain," the Company grumble among themselves, had they been left to it they could already have achieved this. "We cannot, however, offer you the shelter of our town. Thranduil will be wroth enough that we have let you pass through, should the dragon slaughter you all your fine promises of wealth will come to nothing. Best not to upset him any further."
"This is an insult we will not forget," Thorin snarls. "Remember well your treatment of us when Erebor is once more ruled by the line of Durin. You shall receive just reward and thanks at that time." His words are a purr and one could be forgiven for thinking that Thorin means to persuade the Men to allow them to stay in town anyway, though they never intended it. The Company, except Legolas, know better.
"Perhaps, were the Prince to remain with you," Balin offers, neatly trying to solve the problem of the elf for the group. The Master seems to consider it, consider the stronger position it would give him were he to have liberated Thranduil's son from his captors.
"No," Legolas speaks before an answer can be given. "I have sworn myself to see you arrive safely at your destination. The time for us to part has not yet come."
By the time the discussion is ended, suitable payment has been agreed and the subject of Legolas resolved (he will join them to the Mountain, there are none who are capable of forcing him to remain and she can well believe that) and supplies obtained it is so late as to make it necessary for the Company to stay in Lake Town. Thorin rails angrily at the delay once they have been led to a house for their use. He rants about the fact that, should the Master wish it, they could end up as trapped here as they were in Mirkwood and helpless to do anything other than negotiate away that which should rightfully be theirs before they have even had a chance to claim it.
Belladonna retires to bed with a headache. She isn't certain whether she is concerned or relieved when she hears Bluebell and the three boys announce they will do the same.
A.N: Stepping up the posting pace again, three chapters a day where I can manage it. Apparently the house thing is moving mush faster than anyone had anticipated. Everyone wants the exchanges to happen quickly and there's every chance I'll be without internet for a week or more once I move. Nothing happens quickly in rainy Cornwall so we've been taken by surprise