RAZENA'S POV

As Bilbo and I walked through the doorway, I had to bend down a slightly to keep from banging my head on the door frame. I straightened as soon as I was in and bashed my forehead against a hanging chandelier. I reared backward holding my head, groaning.

"Owwwww," I glared at the offending object, rubbing my throbbing head. "Stupid chandelier."

I heard a cough from behind me, was probably trying not to laugh at me. Recovering his composer, he leads me down the hall towards what I assume are the bedrooms.

"That one's mine if you need anything," He pointed toward the only closed door in the hall. "You're free to choose a room, all the others are open."

I looked down the hallway amazed. "Wow! Are all of these bedrooms?" I asked poking my head into several rooms.

"Oh yes, this smial was built with a great deal more hobbits in mind. I-" He swallowed. "I live alone at the moment. Lots of empty space," He got this far off look in his eyes and his lips turned down at the corners.

"Smial?" I asked hoping to distract him.

"Oh," He blinked, his eyes clearing. "That's what we call our homes."

I poked through the rooms again before deciding on the one with a window. After making sure both the door and the window had locks. Just because I was pretty sure Bilbo wouldn't do anything, didn't mean I was right.

Better to just be cautious, I thought, testing the locks. I looked around the rest of the room. The walls and floors were wooden but there was a rug that peaked out from under the bed. The bed itself had wooden posts, cream-colored sheets, and a colorful quilt. It looked a little small, I imagined my feet would just peak over the end.

It must be huge for hobbits. Most of them looked to be around Mr. Bilbo's size.

I stood at a good five foot seven. Just an inch above average. I usually wasn't the tallest but at the same time, I wasn't the shortest. The dresser was pushed off close to the right corner and maybe came up to my hip. Next to the dresser in the corner of the room was a chair.

It looked strong enough to hold me. Even if it looked like it would be a bit awkward, like going back to your elementary school and sitting in a first graders chair.

"I'll run you a bath, then cook us some supper, I quite believe we've missed dinner," Bilbo informed me before walking off to the bathroom down the hall. I scrunched up my face, confused.

"Aren't they the same?" I muttered, dropping my bag on the chair near the window. Deciding it was too dirty to put on the bed. I pulled out a pair of tan cargo pants, a black tank top, and some underwear and debated grabbing my limited, ever-shrinking supply of soap.

"Mr. Baggins?" I called turning to the hall. "Do you have soap I could use?"

"Of course," He walked back down the hall. "The bathroom's this way." He leads me down the hall which curved a little. He stopped at a door before opening it. Inside the sink and toilet were right next to each other. There was a chair and some shelving across from them and in the far corner, there was a tub filled with steaming water. "The bar is for your skin and the bottle is for your hair." I stepped into the bathroom and gave him a thankful look.

"Thanks for this Mr. Baggins, I really appreciate it."

"It's really no problem," He waved me off. "I'll get supper going while you bathe. And as I said before you can call me Bilbo." He headed towards the kitchen and I shut the door turning to the chair to set my stuff down. I locked the door before striping. Setting my gun and machete carefully on the sink and throwing everything else carelessly onto the floor. I climbed into the bath and sighed as my muscles relaxed in the hot water. I wondered for a second where the hot water came from. As there wasn't a faucet leading into the tub, there was, however, a pipe for draining the water. I noticed the pump behind the shelving, it was the kind I used to see in movies. With the lever behind the spout. That Still, didn't explain why the water's hot. I was pretty sure hot water didn't come out of those. I decided a minute later I really didn't care and began washing. The water turned a darker and darker shade of brown until it looked like mud. I finished quickly, wanting to get out of the muddy water as fast as humanly possible. After getting out, I reached into the tub and pulled the plug holding the water in. I rubbed dry with the towel being careful of the scrapes I had discovered on my forearms. I figured they must have been scratched by the edge of the dumpster in my desperate attempt to hold on. They hadn't hurt until I had rubbed soap over them.

Like putting hand sanitizer in a paper cut you have no idea was there.

After putting my clothes and boots on, I picked up my stuff and opened the door. I walked out, arms full. Wandering down the hall in the direction I thought the kitchen was in. I was very careful to watch my head not wanting a repeat of earlier.

"Mr. Bilbo?" I called. I heard shuffling before 's head peeked around a corner from the end of the hall.

"In the kitchen, lady Ryan."

"Razena," I corrected heading over to where I had seen his head. "What should I do with my clothes?" He turned and raised his eyebrow seemingly amused.

"Give them to me, Miss Razena I'll wash them." I scrunched my face up at the use of miss, but I suppose it was fair, I had called him Mr. Bilbo. I rolled my eyes.

"I can wash them," I insisted. "You're already doing so much for me."

"It's no trouble, I assure you." He smiled, kindly.

"Alright, Mr. Bilbo, but only this once," I gave in, handing my clothes over to him keeping my weapons.

"Right supper's almost ready. It should be done as soon as I'm done washing these," he lifted my clothing a bit, before walking away.

"Is there anything I can do help?" I asked following him down the hall. He glanced back.

"Oh no, no, I've got it, what kind of host would I be if I asked you to work."

"You're not asking me," I argued. "I'm offering. I don't have anything to repay you with sooo," I shrugged, "I figured I'd do chores or tasks you don't want to do. Help out, so I'm not a complete freeloader." Bilbo stopped and turned to stare at me.

"If you must insist on helping," he sighed. "I left supper over the fire could you keep it from boiling over?"

I grinned feeling better with something to do. "You got it!" I about faced and walked back to my chosen room to put my stuff down. I slipped the pocket knife I kept in my boot into my pocket for better access. Then quickly walked back to the kitchen.

I noticed the abnormally large pantry across the hall from the dining. The kitchen was large with a small table in the middle. There was a large stone fireplace with a pot hanging over it. Above the pot was a place for a plate to be placed like a stove top. Bilbo's cast iron pots and pans were hanging from hooks in the ceiling. Under the circle window overlooking the garden, was a sink that's handle was also pump. The countertops were made of gray stone, and the cabinets under it a dark wood. I inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the cooking stew. It was making my mouth water. It had been a while since I had last been able to eat a home-cooked meal. I sat there, silently for a few minutes before growing bored. I searched my mind for the last song I had heard then started whistling it. I could only remember half so I just repeated it over and over. The liquid in the pot hanging over the fire bubbled higher and higher. With some alarm, I noticed it was close to boiling over. I stood quickly, nocking the chair back but not over. Staring at the pot, I realized I didn't know what to do.

What do I do?! Do I take it off the flame? Put the fire out?

I decide taking it off the fire was the best idea. My head swiveled desperately trying to find something to pick up the hot pot with. I spotted a cloth hanging off a cabinet handle.

"That I'll work," I grabbed it and using it as a glove grabbed the handle of the pot. I hefted it off the hook almost spilling it from miss judging the weight. Then set it down on the counter.

"There," I said nodding my head once. "Now it won't boil over." I let it sit like that until it was no longer boiling up the sides then put it back over the fire. Bilbo walked in a few moments later.

"Oh, good, it hasn't boiled over."

"It almost did," I laughed. "I took it off let it cool for a bit."

"Oh, well wonderful, thank you. Take a seat," He gestured at the table. "I'll get us some bowls." He grabs two bowls and spoons and fills the bowls with stew. He set one in front of me and the other in front of the chair he's going to sit in. He doesn't sit like I expect him to, however, he moves on to a cabinet and grabs a loaf of bread and a knife. He sets them on the table before going back to the cabinets. He opens one and I'm surprised to find that it's not a cabinet but an ice chest.

I'm not gonna even try to figure out how that works here.

He grabs out the butter before finally sitting down.

"Would you like some bread?" He asks reaching for the knife.

"Sure." I lifted my spoon to my mouth to blow on some of the stew.

"With or without butter?" He inquired, pausing to look at me.

"Uh, with butter please." he hands me a piece of buttered bread before making his own. I stick the first bight of stew in my mouth.

"Oh wow!" I exclaimed. "This is really good !" He beamed and explained to me how complementing a hobbits food was one of the highest compliments one could give. His smile lasted the rest of the night as he patiently answered all of my questions. Like 'what was the difference between Dinner and Supper?' Then laughed at my amazed 'hobbits eat how many meals?' I could tell laying in my bed that night, full for the first time in a long time, that we were going to be friends.


The next week Bilbo took me to a hobbit seamstress to get me more clothes. We had struck a deal, I dressed and acted somewhat proper in public and in the smial he said I could act however I normally would. I allowed Bilbo to order me some skirts and a dress if he also got me some trousers. I was just thankful that Hobbits ended their skirts around the mid-calf. There weren't any shoes in the Shire because Hobbits didn't need shoes. their soles were like leather. My only pair of shoes were my boots, but I was ok with that. The grass was soft enough that most of the time I was outside without shoes.

I stayed with Bilbo for two weeks, two turned into four, then to twelve, and I just never left. Bilbo never looked for another home for me either. He asked to Adopt me as his ward on my seventeenth birthday. Most of the hobbits knew me by sight now, if only because I was tall.

(One year later)

"I'm going out Bilbo!" I shouted rushing to the door.

"Be back by Luncheon!" was shouted back at me. I ran down the path, my skirt flying behind me, the sun making the hue of my hair lighter.

I explored the East-farthing woods again, climbed trees and played games with the flaunts of Tookland. When I noticed the position of the sun, I quickly said my goodbyes to the flaunts and sprinted back to bag end. I dropped into a cautious walk once I noticed someone new was talking to Bilbo. Two things made me weary, one was that this male was as tall as I was and the other was Bilbo's body language. He was tense, uncomfortable, with the man in grey himself or their topic of conversation, I couldn't tell. I walked a little faster.

"Good morning," Bilbo politely dismissed the man and turned to walk inside.

"To think I should have lived to be 'good morninged' by Belladonna Tooks son as If I was selling buttons at the door," the old grey man barked, offended. Bilbo, squinting turned back to the man.

"I beg your pardon."

"You've changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins."

"Bilbo! I'm back," I announced, cutting into the conversation. I addressed the man politely. "I don't believe we've met, I'm Razena,"

"I am Gandalf, an old friend of Bilbo's"

"He's never mentioned you." I kept a polite smile on my face. Go away.

"Gandalf," Bilbo muttered. "Gandalf, not the wandering wizard…who made such excellent fireworks? Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve." He paused then laughed nervously. "Heh, heh. Ahem. No idea you were still in business."

Gandalf's eyes narrowed. "And where else should I be."

"Depends, how old are you?," I muttered under my breath. His head snapped towards me.

"What was that, my dear?" He asked kindly, but I heard the sharp edge under it.

"Uh. Nothing," I said quickly, probably too quickly if the smug face was anything to go off of. He turned back to Bilbo.

"Well, I'm glad you remember something about me, even if it is just my fireworks." He nodded as if we'd just decided something important. "So it's decided. It'll be very good for you," He glanced over at me and I felt if I was included in that statement. "And very amusing for me. I shall inform the others."

Wait, what? "Others? What others?" I asked. Bilbo seemed to have the same thought as me.

"Inform the who? What? No. No. No... Wait. We do not want any adventures here, thank you. Not today. Not… I suggest you try Over the Hill or Across the Water. Good morning," He protested. "Come inside, Razena," He instructed, before rushing to the door. I followed, but I didn't think Gandalf had listened to Bilbo's protests. Bilbo slammed the door after me, locking it firmly, before handing me the mail. There was a scratching sound on the door, he peeked out the window trying to find out what Gandalf was doing. He jumped back a second later in surprise when Gandalfs' face popped into the window like a jack in the box. He very quickly walked to a different window. I glanced out the window he abandoned. All I could see was the back of gray robes and a ridiculous pointy hat.

"What was that about Bilbo?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing." he seemed to be trying to convince himself.

I didn't believe him. I knew it had something to do with an adventure, a weird old wizard and whoever the others were. I didn't push it though, I had a feeling he knew as much as I did. Though I had a feeling we'd be finding out what was going on soon.

"Alright, What's for lunch?" I smiled, changing the subject.

He breathed a sigh of relief and proceeded to explain to me what he'd prepared.


Thank you MissCallaLilly and mercutios for commenting.