Greetings my loves! I have returned from the dreaded place of reality with another healthy dose of Bilba and the wondrous world of Tolkien. To which I absolutely own nothing and I am merely playing in the same sandbox.

My updates are a bit slower at the moment, and I apologize for that. Work and stress and a slight case of my muse running off have given me some grief. Also a serious stomach flu, which was not fun.

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.

-;-

The autumn drew to a close quickly in the Shire, as it always did. Once the initial harvests were concluded, it was a matter of the hobbits deciding what products to make with their crops, and that could be done behind closed doors well into the winter months.

In fact, it was only a few days before the first snows of the winter were expected when Isengrim and the two remaining Took sisters arrived upon Bilba's stoop, all three with warm smiles and their bags hoisted on their shoulders. Bilba couldn't actually recall the last she had invited her family to Bag End- after her parents had passed she had locked herself in the smial and all but refused to see anyone other than Hamfast and his family, and even that was more for appearances than for the actual company.

"Aunt Mirabella, Donnamira." She greeted politely, only to have herself swept up in a warm embrace from the pair in question, their warm chatter in her ears.

"Oh, none of that, little Bilba."

"Auntie, Bilba, how many times must we remind you that?"

"Sounds so formal."

"Terrible, indeed."

Isengrim remained carefully out of the way as his little sisters fussed over a rather defeated looking Bilba, their niece looking like she would protest if she knew that it would actually make a difference. But it wouldn't, and so the copper haired lass remained tolerant as she gently extracted herself and ushered them into the sitting room, flashing a smile in his direction as they went.

As their presence always managed, Bilba's innermost Took began to reappear, though it certainly wasn't as shocking now as it would have been in the years before. Now, it was simply something of a content smile that manifested itself upon the younger lass' face as she settled everyone in and got to making them all a cup of tea.

She had grown since they had last seen one another, and whatever had caused it was something that Isengrim could fully support. Belladonna had always been his favorite sister, and when Bilba had been brought into the world his love- as had all of their other siblings- had been transferred to her as well.

And, before they retired for the evening, Bilba knocked on his door, holding what looked to be a small journal to her chest and looking as though there were a great weight sitting upon her shoulders- nothing like the lass that had been warm and cheerful with them for the entirety of the day.

As she explained everything that had been happening, Isengrim's brows had no doubt appeared as though they might simply vanish into his hairline, and by the time Bilba had managed to tell him everything that she could about her visions, he had turned thoughtful. After another few minutes of quiet conversation, he ushered his niece from the room so that they could both get some rest- something that they both needed, it seemed.

Of course, he had sworn himself to secrecy- such things would do no good being spoken of freely, and if what Bilba was Seeing was going to happen, he had no doubt that dark days were beginning to descend upon the world. Still, it did leave him with several questions of his own- the first being why Bilba was having such visions in the first place.

Those thoughts in mind as he settled beneath a large, homey quilt, he quickly succumbed to sleep.

-;-

If there had ever been something that her aunts had taught her as a faunt, it was that a good life was one to be lived in spite.

Mirabella had been told that she would never find herself a good lad and settle down, and completely out of spite she had done just that, and was happily married with a few babes to call her own.

Donnamira had always been the one that was too thin and that she would never be beautiful in the eyes of hobbits, but she had managed to prove them all wrong.

Even Belladonna, who had been told she would never wed with her wild spirit- not only did she wed, but her husband did nothing to change the same spirit.

So when it came to Bilba and her company, she dressed in her most comfortable of skirts, donned a hobbitish tunic and went down to the market with her aunts in tow and her head held high. After all, she was one of the wealthiest in the Shire- it would do well for the others to realize that without her coin, much of the service would be dwindling.

"It's been so long since we've been this far north." Mirabella sighed as she took in their surroundings. "There's so many more hills here. And fewer trees; that is something to get used to if we'll be staying for the winter."

Bilba paused at that, wondering if she'd quite heard right, when Mirabella laughed and patted her niece on the shoulder.

"Bet you thought we'd had you there, Bilba." She chuckled. "No, we'll stay another week, perhaps two, and then be heading on home. Isengrim has business to attend to, and Donnamira and I have our families to wrangle back under our thumbs. I can only imagine what our homes will look like when we finally return!"

"Oh, don't remind me." Donnamira shuddered. "Our lads try their best but they're certainly no Tooks!"

"No, they aren't." Mirabella agreed, looping her arm with Bilba's. "Now, darling, let us be off to the butcher- I believe I will be making my famous chicken stew tonight!"

-;-

It was a few hours after her relatives had departed for Tookborough that the snow truly began to fall. Bilba was thankful that she had stocked everything to capacity and had ensured all of her blankets were at hand in case any rangers came knocking. And yet, it was too quiet.

She couldn't help but find herself wandering aimlessly throughout Bag End, feeling as though she should be doing something but feeling lost as to what. Her knitting projects were already in full swing- a large blanket for Nori, a shawl for Dori and a sweater for Ori- her journal filled to the brim with notes and thoughts, but her mind simply refused to settle.

The sensation continued even as the winter completely covered the Shire in a heavy dose of snow, leaving many to roll their eyes and ignore the weather- Hobbits had adapted so that they had little need to leave their smials unless something truly pushed them to over the years.

For the first time in many years, the faint sounds of wolves carried throughout the Shire that winter, and many feared that the river would once again freeze. The days were spent with watchful eyes out windows and the other Hobbits locked in fear. Bilba was counted among this number- her old injury twinged frequently, and she found herself forgetting her initial feelings of restlessness in favor of busying herself for the worst case scenario. During the evenings, she sat in her armchair, her knives next to her on her side-table, her fingers knitting with an agitation that gave away her nervousness.

But, the river did not freeze during the winter, and during the early days of the new year many sighed in relief as the snows subsided and the faint gleam of sunlight filtered through the clouds.

The moment that she was able, Bilba was outdoors once again, beginning to clear the snow from her plants and gardens in hopes that they would recover from the heavy snows that had covered them during the winter. Most did, but she always worried for her pipe-weed plants. Besides, Hamfast didn't usually care for her gardens during these days of the year- only through the warmer months and the autumn.

Even so, it wasn't long before the other hobbits began their yearly ritual of digging themselves from their homes, though for once Lobelia remained clear of Bag End. It certainly served her right with her meddling, Bilba mused as she swept out her front entrance one bright morning. The snow had begun melting in earnest, and now there only seemed to be a few patches of it here and there. A lucky thing- perhaps an early spring was to be had.

It was a moment later when Bilba realized that she had neither sent nor received any word to the Blue Mountains the entire season. Blinking, she paused in her sweeping, a furrow forming between her brow. It seemed odd to think of it now, but there was no need to begin worrying now. Dwarrow were hardy people, and she knew hers well enough to know that they had likely had just as hard a winter as the hobbits. Besides, she would be back soon enough, taking with her everything she would need to start a new life there.

-;-

The thing one should always know about wizards are that they are, primarily, rather dramatic.

They're also quite thorough in their scheming if given enough time to do so, which of course is what a certain gray-clad wizard happened to be doing that very moment in the town of Bree.

Gandalf had decided to stay close to the Shire, and had decided to board in Bree for the winter- the cost for room tended to decrease slightly during the cooler months. He had already put the idea and plan into Thorin Oakenshield's mind, and with any luck he would return in the late spring with the backing of the other dwarf lords in order to take back their ancestral home.

A wizard had a bit of a skewed view on the world- rather than thinking in the present, or at a particular piece of the hypothetical puzzle, they looked at it as though from above, seeing everything and calculating the effects from certain events on the rest of the image. Erebor had affected much of the puzzle, so to speak. If nothing were to be done about the drake that resided there, eventually the darkness that was already beginning to spread across the lands would come to fully engulf the world.

Now, when it came to the final piece of this particular puzzle, Gandalf had already chosen one. Of course, as to whether or not the lass in question would even be interested did not even come to his thoughts- the faunt who had clung to his robes and gotten into his fireworks many a time was still clear to him. Yes, Bilba Baggins would be a fine addition to any company. All there was now was the matter of telling her that she had been chosen to go on this quest.

-;-

"What troubles you, my heart?"

Celeborn reached out to touch her shoulder, his features furrowing slightly as he drew near. He had only been absent a handful of minutes, but it seemed that his heart-mate had once again glimpsed something that had troubled her.

Galadriel sighed, a faint, feathery sound, and turned to clasp her heart-mate's hand.

"I worry that Gandalf may be meddling in affairs that he does not understand the consequences of." She murmured, her eyes far away.

His mouth pinched at the mentions of the gray wizard. That one had always been the one to cause trouble in Middle Earth- the others had taken to their roles well, to an extent. But he had always found the need to meddle.

Galadriel came back to herself, and she smiled faintly at the expression on her heart-mate's features.

"It is nothing like that, My Lord." She smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Merely that the tapestry is changing in ways that I had not Seen."

"If you are certain."

"Nothing is certain, my heart." She chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Save for the ways of elves and dwarves, of course."

She turned again, still clasping her heart-mate's fingers in her own, to stare out over their home.

"I simply hope that he realizes what change this will bring should they succeed."