And I'm back! Bet you guys weren't expecting a triple introduction with Dwalin and the boys! So sorry for the delay in posting- I've had a really long and weird work week and some other stuff's been going on.
I should also note that I've sort of hit a rut with how long I want Bilba to remain in Ered Luin- suggestions are welcome, since it's part of the reason it took so long to post.
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.
-;-
After the first night of braiding one another's hair- grooming, Dori had corrected- it seemed as though a small door had opened into the world of the Hobbit lass who lived with the trio of dwarves.
Firstly, it seemed, was the much more frequent gatherings during the evenings. Once everyone had gotten ready for bed, Dori would brew some tea and they would all retreat to the hearth, taking over Nori's bed- which had actually been replaced with a bed, at this point, and was no longer a couch. They would laugh as Nori recounted some of his less than stellar stories, as Ori scribbled away on his notes in his large journal and Bilba quietly corrected his spelling for the Sindarin translations.
Inevitably, they would end up loosening their braids and allowing one another to card fingers through hair- a comb, if someone happened to remember.
What wasn't quite so expected was the eagerness of the trio to braid Bilba's hair- quite often Ori would win, and braid simple but effective plaits into her ever growing hair.
Bilba had once asked for a blade so that she could trim off some of the length, only to be greeted with the sight of recoiling dwarves, horror written on their features. As it turned out, it was not common at all for a dwarrow to cut his or her hair unless there was an extreme circumstance behind it, such as grief.
"The prince," Dori had explained, "cut off his beard after the fall of Erebor in remembrance of those who lost their lives there. It is likely that he will not allow it to grow again unless our homeland has been reclaimed."
Needless to say, Bilba had not persisted on the issue. And, truth be told, she rather enjoyed seeing what her dwarves would come up with next for her hair. Nothing that they wove into her locks was overly cumbersome- mostly small braids that kept the strands from getting into her eyes as she worked in the kitchens at the Goose- and she quickly picked up several that she could do herself.
Not long after their nightly ritual had begun, Bilba had been presented with a set of her own hair beads. They were carved from wood, with small ivy leaves embossed on each one, but the Hobbit had put two and two together to realize that it was not just a gift. She had been listening to Dori and Ori going over their lessons, and her questions had netted a few answers of her own regarding dwarven culture.
The main point that she picked up on was that hair beads were almost on a sacred level in dwarven society. Only those that felt truly comfortable would gift a set of beads to those who were not dwarves as recognition of their own "House", so to speak. Needless to say, Bilba had gotten lost in that particular conversation fairly quickly.
What she did understand, however, was how precious the wooden beads were as her dwarves wove a specific plait into her hair. One over the other, the three horizontal four-strand plaits began at the front of her temple and ended behind her ear, one bead tying off the end of each one. Later, she learned, the trio had each carved their own specific details into each bead.
Dori had somehow carved a goose on his, entwined with the ivy motif that appeared on all of the beads. For Nori, it was a book- no explanation was needed as to why. And Ori carved an apple, to remind her of home.
And as for the final bead, she was told, that would be her carving. Dori promised that he would teach her how to wield the correct tools when the time came, but for the moment, the fourth and final bead was tucked away at the side of her bed.
When she began wearing them to the Goose, the reactions were mixed. Most were startled or shocked, while others simply laughed and nodded, knowing that the lass had certainly managed to earn her keep and then some in Ered Luin since her arrival the prior summer.
But, as she knew it would, the snows melted from the mountains as spring began to dawn once more in the east, and Bilba's glances to the west became more and more often as she warred with herself on returning to the Shire. This was the longest she had ever been away from the familiar rolling hills and busybody neighbors and the warmth of Bag End.
Then again, she certainly hadn't expected to find a place for herself in the Blue Mountains. Stay there, yes. Find a family of dwarves who took her in with nary a thought- no. And since she had learned more and more about their history, how they had never been taken in by the towns of Men and no aid had come to them after the fire of Smaug, Bilba had firmly set her mind that she would never turn away a hungry traveller or passersby in need again.
Especially if they were dwarves, she decided.
-;-
Ori had learned quite a bit about Hobbits since Miss Bilba Baggins of the Shire had come to Ered Luin- firstly, that they even existed! He hadn't travelled much- or ever, really, thanks to Dori and their mother- from the Blue Mountains save for a trip when he was a dwarfling when their traders went to Bree to sell goods. However, his memories of the occasion were blurry at best.
Most of the things Ori learned about Miss Bilba- just Bilba, now- he kept careful notes of in his notebook with neat lines of runes and the odd sketch of the Hobbit here and there.
Firstly, and the most noticeable of all about the Hobbits- for that was what they were called, after all- was the distinct lack of footwear that they had. Instead, their larger than average feet were adorned with tufts of curls on the tops- presumably to keep them warm in the cooler weather. This theory was still in progress as the winter melted away. Their soles were also thicker, so that they could keep their footing on uncertain terrain.
Ori wasn't positive, but he knew for a fact that that terrain likely wasn't mountainous, judging by the two times that the Hobbit had managed to stumble or cut her foot on particularly sharp rocks.
Secondly, and the most important- Hobbits loved food. In fact, their bodies burned through the energy that they had so quickly that they often needed seven meals a day! Bilba had assured them from day one that she only had five at the most these days- since her parents had died, she later explained, her appetite just hadn't been the same. Regardless, that had been a topic of fascination for Ori until he had nearly driven the poor lass to frustrated madness.
(Bilba still didn't know where the extra snacks were coming from, but it was Nori).
Among the other, finer points of Hobbits and their culture, Ori discovered that a single married couple could have up to twenty children in their lives, if not more. Bilba's own mother was one of three daughters and nine sons- numbering twelve in total.
Dori, who had been present for that conversation, had actually choked on his tea at the news. While it was not uncommon for dwarven families to number up to three or four dwarflings, twelve was almost an impossible number. Especially with the rarity of dwarrowdams these days.
Then there was their inherent and instinctive fear of water. Well, not water, but running rivers, lakes, the likes of which the bottom could not easily be reached or was nigh invisible to the naked eye. Hobbits were not a race suited to the water, but over time the Tooks and Brandybucks had figured out the finer points of swimming, and could do so if pressed.
But then there were the things that Ori learned about Bilba. Her likes, dislikes, personal quirks and the other little things that made her Bilba.
Like how, when she was working in the kitchen at the Goose, her nose would scrunch up ever so slightly as if she were deep in thought. Or how she couldn't stand the days were the sun and clouds were at odds- "the weather should be one or the other, not both at the same time!" , and would laugh at the rain and smile at the sun and play in the snow.
She had somehow become a part of their little family.
Dori, with his mother-goose tendencies and temper that could shame even the worst tempered of folk, who made his tea and managed the tavern and couldn't seem to keep a good cook in the kitchen for more than a couple of days at a time.
Nori, who when one got to know him was charming and flightly and more than a little flirtatious with most everyone- or everyone that mattered to him. Who always managed to provide for them but never admitted his motivations and would never, ever tell Dori that he still cared even though he rarely came home.
And him, Ori. The scribe who wanted to see the world and tell his stories in his notebooks. Who loved his teas and brothers and would always be there for them, even if they were being ridiculous and arguing like dwarflings.
And now Bilba. Sweet Bilba with a temper like a fire and a need to see the world for herself and write her own stories, and who somehow managed to charm three dwarves of all people, just because she was herself.
But Ori knew that Bilba couldn't stay forever. He knew that one day, their Hobbit would return to the Shire and they wouldn't see her every morning when they gathered and prepared themselves for the day ahead. He knew, and he was trying to tell himself that it wouldn't be so bad, and that he could visit her during the summer months and return for the winters in Ered Luin so he wouldn't worry Dori.
He saw her gaze turn more and more to the horizon, and Ori knew that they couldn't keep their Hobbit with them, even if they wanted to. While she lived among them and knew them, was learning about them every day and learning more and more about how special it was that she knew them, she didn't truly belong with a people of the stone and earth. She belonged on the grass and skies and warm hearths.
So he would treasure the time that they had before she returned to her home in the Shire. Before their Bilba would become more fond memories than everyday life.
Before she left.
-;-
It was a lovely day in the midst of spring that Bilba finally felt the call of the Shire in her core.
The Goose had been officially closed for the day so that everyone could enjoy the rare sunshine that shone down upon the tentatively blooming earth, and Bilba, Ori and Dori were all seated on a blanket that had been dragged out of the house to enjoy such weather.
It started innocently enough, with the lass tilting her head to one side as Ori recounted his studies with Balin that morning, before her brows slowly began to furrow and her gaze slid away from her dwarves and to the horizon in the east, as it usually had been as of late.
"Bilba?" Dori inquired after Ori asked a question that did not receive an answer.
"Oh, pardon me. What was that, Ori?" the lass coughed, returning her gaze to the pair, her cheeks flushing. "I seem to have lost myself in thought a moment."
"You seem to have been doing that quite a bit." Dori said knowingly, a worried crease around his eyes. "If you truly wish to return to the Shire-"
"It's not that." The hobbit said quietly. "The exact opposite, I suppose. I miss the Shire, but I don't want to leave you. Silly, isn't it? I never meant to stay here so long, and yet now I seem to have found a home here."
"It's not silly." Ori shook his head. "I don't think it's silly."
"Thank you, Ori." Bilba smiled. "Perhaps I should return to the Shire for a short while- make sure those dratted Sackville-Bagginses haven't gotten into my things and put some other orders of business to rights."
"You know that we shall be right here, Bilba." Dori laid a hand on her shoulder. "You go and do what you need to do, and we shall wait for you."
The hobbit appeared to have slightly damp eyes as she nodded and rose to her feet with a cheerful smile, heading inside to pack her things.
-;-
Not many knew when she left, only that she had returned to the Shire to take care of some business. Those particularly nosy and brave enough to approach Dori were told little, and Nori and Ori were equally as vague. They of course knew when Bilba would be returning, and so Dori found little point in attempting to replace her at the Grey Goose while she was gone. It wasn't like there were many willing enough to put up with him anyway, seeing as he had gone through most, if not all, of the available cooks in Ered Luin.
It was a foggy morning when the Hobbit set out, her pack on her shoulders with only her most important possessions. She certainly couldn't bring everything back with her on this trip, after all. It certainly wouldn't be logical, considering the distance that she had to travel- adding even more luggage to her load would only take longer to trek with.
As it was, it only took the better half of a month to return to the Shire, and as the familiar rolling hills and puffing chimneys came into view, something within her chest finally loosened and gave way to the warmth of home. It had been almost a year that she had been gone, after all- how much had changed, she wondered?
Her first stop was to her cousins the Tooks in the south. She had sent a letter shortly before she had initially departed to let them know that the wandering lust had finally come calling to her, and that she would be journeying to the west. It also detailed that she would eventually return, and to keep Lobelia Sackville-Baggins in particular from getting too close to her smial. Bag End had been built by Bungo Baggins for his wife and their family, and she would be damned before she allowed that wretch of a Hobbit to get her fingers on her family home.
Her cousins, of course, were all eager to hear of her adventures- "Bilba Baggins, off on an adventure of her own! Who could have predicted this?", and "Oho, looks like you've more Took in you than we thought, eh Bilba?"
Her grandmother Adamanta, the current matriarch of the Tooks, insisted that her granddaughter stay for luncheon, citing the need to catch up. After all, it had been quite some time since Bilba had last visited, and the feisty hobbit attempted to play the old-but-charming card. Which worked, as it always did.
So, full of fresh hobbit cuisine, Bilba was off once again, briefly escorted by a pair of her cousins (Paladin and Esmerelda, if she recalled correctly, though which family line they belonged to was a mystery to Bilba).
But oh, Bag End eventually came into sight, the setting sun illuminating the familiar windows, the green door that had been ever so carefully painted by her father's hands all those years ago. This was home, she thought to herself. This was where she would lay her head to rest without a care in the world, despite having found such a thing back to the west in the Blue Mountains as well.
Opening the door, removing the note that proclaimed her intentions, Bilba stepped into Bag End and let out a sigh of nostalgia as the scent of the earth and the wood beams surrounded her.
She had missed this.