And it is I, once again! You know, I'm not entirely certain how long this beast is going to be.
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, Undecided Pairings.
-;-
"-and then you leave it to simmer for several hours."
"Alright…" Bilba blinked, hesitantly placing the lid over the top of the pot and backing away.
"I know our cooking methods may differ from yours, but you'll see the results in the end." Dori chuckled as he guided the Hobbit around the small kitchen. "But you're doing remarkably well, considering you've never heard of dwarven recipes."
"It's a compliment." Ori chimed in from his chair in the corner- he'd dragged it in earlier to watch the events while working on his studies from his mentor. "Very rare when it comes to Dori, I know."
"You hush, you cheeky little troll!" Dori snapped, throwing a piece of discarded cabbage at the youngest of his brothers. "If Nori deigns to grace us with his presence before the winter, I'll teach him a lesson for influencing you so terribly!"
Bilba covered her smirk with a quiet cough and turned back to the oven built above the fire to check the loaves of sweet bread that were still baking. These arguments had begun barely a handful of days into her stay with them, and she could honestly say that it was never a dull moment around the home.
"What is your other brother like?" she couldn't help but ask, wiping her hands on her cloth and turning back to the pair. "I don't think I've heard his name mentioned more than a handful of times since I've been here."
"He's our middle brother." Ori provided immediately as Dori huffed and busied himself with mixing his teas. "Dori thinks he's a terrible influence on me-"
"Because he is." Dori muttered darkly.
Ori rolled his eyes behind Dori's back- a risky maneuver, Bilba had discovered early on. Dori had a mean motherly streak that seemed to be amplified by Ori's mere presence. It was sweet, in a way, to watch. To see the way that they loved one another (even if it wasn't the way that she was used to), and to be surrounded by a home and be around others. It was… nostalgic.
"Bilba, is that bread done yet? It should be a dark gold on the top." The silver haired dwarf inquired, placing down his measuring glass and coming over to investigate.
Bilba chuckled and moved out of the way, knowing that it would likely end badly for her if she interfered. As a Hobbit, she understood the feeling perfectly- no one simply came into their kitchen and said that they would be in charge without consequences.
The number of cooks that Dori was going through was beginning to seem a little ridiculous, though…
-;-
Before any of them had realized it, Bilba had been in the Blue Mountains for almost a full season. The leaves of the trees at the base of the mountains were turning rustic oranges and ambers, and it caught the Hobbit off guard one cool sunlight afternoon as she and Ori were running errands for Dori.
Bilba caught herself pausing at the outskirts of the settlement, her gaze on the eastern horizon. A sudden feeling of nostalgia and homesickness washed over her, and she swallowed heavily. The harvest would be in full swing by now, most of the crops being taken in in typical Hobbit efficiency and being ground into ingredients.
"Bilba?"
"Oh! Sorry, Ori, were you saying something?" she said sheepishly, feeling her cheeks heat. Honestly, her manners were deteriorating faster than she realized since she'd left the Shire.
"Are you okay?" the scribe asked, concern written in his features.
"I think so." Bilba nodded, though her eyes were once again drawn to the horizon. "This is the first time I won't be home for the harvest, is all."
"You're homesick?"
"A little." She admitted, taking a step forward before seating herself on the earthen steps leading down the path towards the ground. "This is the farthest I've ever been from home. When I was a faunt, my mother would always take me to the edge of Farmer Maggot's farm and steal a bag of apples from his trees. My father would always lose his mind fretting over what mischief my mother was getting us into, but when we returned up the lane, he would be at the door with a smile and a hug for the both of us… we would sit on top of Bag End and we would all eat the apples until we felt sick."
Ori tentatively seated himself next to her as she spoke, and Bilba found herself wiping at her eyes as they began to water.
"It's been years." She said with a quiet sniff. "I shouldn't still be this sad."
"It's okay to miss them, you know." Ori said quietly. "I don't really remember our mum- she passed away when I was a dwarfling. Dori's really the only one who remembers her very well, and Nori doesn't talk about her if he can help it. I think he really misses her still. But it's okay, because we know she'll be waiting for us one day in the halls of our Maker."
"It's just not fair." She said.
"Some things aren't." Ori replied simply.
Bilba sighed, closing her eyes a moment and leaning her chin on her knees before a gentle touch to her shoulder grounded her again.
"You might not be home, but we still have apples." The dwarf offered, holding out a dark red apple to the Hobbit, who huffed out a watery laugh before accepting the gift.
"Thank you, Ori." She smiled at her friend, who beamed back at her, his short beard bristling at the movement.
"You're welcome." He replied before standing and offering her a hand up. "Let's get going. Dori'll come looking for us soon, and I don't want to be spoon-fed whatever green vegetable he comes up with this time."
Bilba glanced over her shoulder again before smiling and following Ori. She would return to the Shire eventually. Once the winter was through, she would return home and she would continue her vacations to the Blue Mountains whenever she could.
But why did the thought of leaving give her a strange ache in her chest?
-;-
"Dori, that's the third chef this week!" Bilba exclaimed as she stomped into the kitchen, propping her hands on her hips as she faced down the fuming silver haired dwarf. "I understand that you're not happy with the way they perform in the kitchen, but honestly, if you're not careful even Rorin might leave at this rate!"
"Wouldn' think of it, sir." Rorin winked as he wandered by with a stack of dirty plates.
"You're not helping, Rorin!" Bilba barked after him before returning her ire to the silver haired dwarf before her. "At least try to line up more potential cooks before you throw the ones you have out the door!"
Dori, surprisingly, took the brunt of the verbal assault rather well, almost cowing away from the wrath of the copper haired Hobbit lass.
It was beginning to be a familiar situation to those who worked in the Grey Goose or who regularly attended for their midday meals. The small Hobbit lass going after the temperamental tea master himself with naught but her fiery spirit and even more fiery temper. Not that anyone had really seen it publicly, of course. Only those brave enough to check in the kitchen- a small number indeed- and the staff were usually present to see Bilba of the Shire pursuing the owner of the establishment.
"Fine. I'll consider it." Dori groused, pretending to look far more put out than he felt. He, secretly, enjoyed seeing their Hobbit lass coming out of her shell the more she settled into her life in the Blue Mountains. He only wished that she wouldn't leave come the next spring- the time she had been considering heading back to the Shire. She was by far the best cook in the kitchen, even Rorin agreeing that she had a way about her when it came to food. Something along those lines had been lectured by said Hobbit lass at one point, but no one could remember the exact words of the passionate rambling.
"Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse us, Rorin and I have a kitchen to run, and you have new cooks to find. Even Ori would be a help to us at this point!"
Oh. Now that was an idea indeed, Dori thought as he took his leave, musing over the thought carefully.
It wasn't until that evening that he even mentioned it to his youngest brother. Well, less of mention, more of ordered. He had already approached Balin about rearranging the lad's lessons around the Grey Goose's hours, and there didn't seem to be many issues around that, considering that most mornings the elder dwarrow was left with free time. It would also free up the afternoons to do errands and other such things, keep his brother Dwalin out of trouble and the like.
Fortunately, Ori was quite pleased with this turn events. Not as much of the working at the Goose instead of pursuing his scribing studies, but the fact that he got to spend more time with their resident Hobbit and learn more and more about the Shire.
Already, Dori had noticed that Bilba had rather taken a shine to Ori, often helping with his Westron when he had to practice writing and even beginning to teach him Sindarin- something that had sparked an almost violent argument about elves before Bilba had pointed out that as a scribe, any and all languages would be useful to him.
Bilba had finally agreed to take small pay from Dori as thanks for bringing more business to the Grey Goose. And in spite of it almost being winter already, the Hobbit only seemed to become more and more cheerful the cooler it was in the morning when she roused herself. And every morning, before even Dori managed to haul himself from his bed, she would be only just arriving back from who knows where, humming a tune to herself as she retreated to her room- even Dori was beginning to forget that it had once been Nori's, what with all of the small nick-knacks that were beginning to appear in the small space.
However, it was one chilly morning that Ori and Dori woke to find gifts waiting for them at the ends of their beds.
For Dori, the Hobbit had knit a pair of lovely gloves that ended mid-finger. Bilba knew that Dori hated the mornings, often complaining about how he could never feel his hands for the first couple of hours he was up but unable to wear full gloves as he wandered about the kitchen making tea.
For Ori, Bilba had knit a rather unusual article of clothing- a shawl that, when arranged just so, appeared as a thick scarf. The catch was that she had sewn the ends together so that a makeshift hood had been made available. This also meant that Ori would not have to worry about the ends of the scarf/shawl hybrid coming loose and having to adjust it as much as he did with his current scarf.
And for herself, Bilba had knit a lovely shawl so that she could walk to the tavern without fear of catching a chill in the air. In fact, she was wearing it as the pair of curious dwarves entered the kitchen to find the Hobbit already busily rolling out dough, a small stack of unidentifiable ingredients lying in piles next to her elbows.
"Good morning, Dori, Ori." She greeted, turning to beam at the pair sunnily before returning to her dough, humming a soft melody that neither of the males could identify.
"Good morning, Bilba." Ori greeted. "Thank you for the present."
"You're most welcome, Ori." The Hobbit returned. "I know you were wanting another scarf, so I decided to knit you one. Sort of. It's more a shawl, but hopefully it will serve you well."
"I think it will."
"And I thank you for these gloves. Such lovely stitching." Dori added. "How did you get the idea to leave the finger tips alone?"
"Well, you seem to despise having to work with gloves when you're mixing your teas, so I thought I would try something new. Do they fit alright? I didn't have the time to take your measurements."
"They fit near perfectly. Thank you for the thoughtful gifts."
"Ah well, we're not done quite yet. I'm making a late apple crumble with the last of the apples before they go bad." She sing-songed.
"Crumble?" Ori mouthed to Dori, who shrugged in return. It had to be some kind of Hobbit dish, though as to what kind would involve apples he didn't quite know.
That tune changed once a bowl full of steaming warm 'crumble' was placed before the pair, a cool mug of milk paired alongside it.
"By the gods!" Dori blinked after the first bite.
"It's amazing." Ori mumbled around a bite of his own, his face an image of pure and utter bliss. "I never thought that healthy things could taste so good."
Bilba- smug, lovely Bilba, crossed her arms and nodded.
"Well, this one isn't quite as healthy, but yes." She grinned. "I don't know what's gotten into me lately. I've just been so happy!"
"As long as it keeps up, you can do as you please, my dear." Dori informed her, continuing his trek through the delicious dish until nothing remained in the bowl. "Though I may have to ask for that recipe- the tavern would love this come spring!"
"I would be happy to, Dori."