Hello, my lovely readers.
I don't really have much of an explanation that will satisfy anyone as to why I vanished without a trace for nearly two years, but long and short of it comes down to a lack of inspiration and motivation. Also health issues and a full time job. My muse ran screaming into the wilderness and hasn't been seen since. However, I am going to do my very best to finish this fic!
I know this chapter has been highly anticipated by all, so I shall not dally and get on with it before I find myself under siege.
Also, congrats on hitting over 100 reviews! I am constantly amazed and encouraged by all of your comments, and I look forward to hearing from each and every one of you when you leave your thoughts.
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.
-;-
It was right before a late spring morning truly dawned that found Bilba practicing her aim on an old oak log that had fallen in the wood and she had hauled back to her smial. Her gaze was sharp as she flipped the blade in her hand, catching it by the sharpened edge and throwing it without hesitation. She had traded her comfortable yet highly unsuitable skirts for a pair of breeches and a long tunic, her hair pulled back and tied with a yellow piece of braided fabric.
She had been practicing every day with her knives since the snow's disappearance from the ground, rapidly improving with the innate instincts that all hobbits usually honed in a thorough game of Conkers.
And her mother's teachings.
And Nori's reminders in the back of her mind, coupled with the few Rangers who had passed through her home for a meal. She was even beginning to recall some of the antics she and her mother had gotten up to when she was a faunt. Her mother had occasionally taken her along to check snares, and while it hadn't made much sense to her younger self, she now knew better.
Her mass of curls had grown startlingly long, long enough that curls were drifting into her eyes despite the majority of the mass being held back in a tousled bun at the nape of her neck. Scandalous, she knew- her aunts and uncle had visited in the late autumn, and thus had not witnessed the development of what was basically a mane.
Absently, she made note to send another letter to her relatives to the south later that afternoon. It had been several days since she had last received correspondence, but Bilba had found herself surprisingly well kept busy, what with dealing with the few neighbors who still willingly asked her into their home for tea and luncheon. The Gamgee's in particular were still firmly in her corner, which Bilba appreciated more than they would ever know. Perhaps she would go to pay them a visit later on in the day, drop off baked goods of some kind before puttering in her garden.
Yes, that sounded like a wonderful idea.
-;-
By mid-morning, the hobbit lass decided that it was more than time to take a moment and relax. She had snared a hare in the early hours in the wood, and had already made quick work of skinning it, the meat in the cellar to keep cool while she pondered what exactly to do with it.
So, she retreated to her bench in front of Bag End, basking in the warm breeze that was blowing as she lit her pipe of Old Toby and reclined. Her long hair had been combed and two strands pulled back from each side of her face to hold the curls at bay.
It was pleasant, enjoying the quiet of the moment. Soon the sounds of the busy market would reach her, the sounds of faunts playing in the field, and no doubt taking a romp or two.
Tilting her face back, Bilba blew out a pristine smoke ring, watching it rise into the air before dissipating. It would likely rain that evening- there were the faint signs of clouds on the horizon, and her old injury on her leg was twinging faintly.
"Bah. I'm beginning to feel like an older lass now." She grumped to herself, reaching down to rub the back of her calf. The scar from the wolf and that of the orc blade made her look as though she were some kind of warrior rather than the hobbit she was. Thankfully, the wolf bite had faded with time, and the other scar was not visible with her skirts.
"Don't tell me that this is the same Bilba Baggins who once clung to my robes as a faunt?" A voice said, startling the hobbit and nearly causing her to choke on her pipe.
Glancing up, she was greeted with the sight of a tall Man with grey robes and a staff, of which he leaned against as he looked at her in contemplation. Gandalf, she recalled immediately. She had faint memories of him while she was still toddling about as a faunt. Her mother and he had gone on several journeys together over the years.
"The one and same, Gandalf the Grey." She greeted with a nod. "Though I don't recall the last time you travelled these parts- more than forty winters, if I had to take a guess."
He looked taken aback by her almost amused response, tilting his large hat to one side to look at her further.
"Indeed, it has been many seasons since I last came here." He agreed. "Though I heard of your mother's passing. I am sorry I did not return sooner."
"Yes, well, thank you. Was there something you wanted, or did you simply come to see if Bag End was the same as you recalled?" Bilba inquired, blowing out another smoke ring. While it was certainly interesting to see a face from her faunt-hood, she hardly saw how it was relevant.
"Ah, yes." The wizard nodded. "I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure."
"Adventures are nasty business, you know. They make you late for dinner." The hobbit raised a brow, crossing her arm over her other, gesturing vaguely with her pipe. "Besides, I'm a bit old for it, don't you think?"
"Perhaps. Perhaps not." He said cryptically before humming, tugging the brim of his hat down, and beginning to wander down the path once more, leaving a rather bemused Hobbit staring after him.
Apparently there was to be no rest for her after all.
Bilba wondered if, perhaps, she should have told Gandalf that she might have been interested in an adventure before shaking her head. Likely the old man would return, as her mother had always recalled with equal parts amusement and irritation.
"The look on his face will be worth it later." She mused, reclining on her bench once more and puffing contentedly on her Old Toby.
-;-
Bilba spent the rest of her day cooking up whatever she could think of- Hobbit dishes, dwarven, and even a couple she'd learned from the Rangers. Anyone could come knocking on her door- it would be best to be prepared for any scenario, as Nori liked to say. So did Bombur, now that she thought about it.
For herself, she prepared an early dinner of fish- freshly caught trout with a hint of lemon.
She had just finished her dishes when there was a heavy knock on the door.
"Coming!" she called, drying her hands on her cloth before hurrying down the hall, her dark skirts and braids whirling about her.
"Good evening- Master Dwalin?"
The dwarf stared back at her, both wearing similar expressions of faint startlement. She remembered the large dwarf well, despite only having met him once before several months prior.
"Aye." He finally replied, looking a little uncertain as he stepped into the lass' home.
"Dinner's ready just down the hall, if you like." Bilba recovered, offering a cheerful smile. "Please, help yourself."
There was a suspicious niggling in the back of her mind now- what exactly was that wizard up to, bringing Dwalin to her door?
Dwalin was thinking similar thoughts at that very moment as he carefully navigated the home of the small creature. He could remember her well considering that she'd wandered into his and Thorin's smithy all those months ago now. The lads had returned from that excursion spouting all sorts of nonsense- halflings who lived underground like badgers? Absolutely ridiculous.
And yet, he mused as he peeled off his thick cloak and setting it on something vaguely hook shaped on the wall, it seemed more true than he'd initially thought. The walls were rounded and the windows allowed enough light during the day, he was sure.
"So very sorry." The lass said as she bustled after him. "It's been quite some time since dwarves have come knocking- or, well, since I've seen dwarves, I suppose."
She looked thoughtful before shrugging and gesturing towards the smell of food.
"I made some dwarven dishes- wasn't sure who that wizard would be bringing to my door, after all. Please, help yourself. Do you happen to know how many others will be joining us?"
The bell rang before he could answer, and the lass vanished again, revealing a rather dwarven braid trailing down her back.
"Oh! Master Balin! Welcome, welcome, please come in!"
That raised a brow, even as he began moving to greet his brother.
-;-
Before long, Bag End was beginning to brim with dwarves- following Balin came Bombur, Bofur and Bifur- all of whom were equally startled and rather enthusiastic once they realized they had come to the door of a friend. Bifur in particular seemed rather animated, gesturing with his hands as he had an entire conversation with the lass, translation provided by a cheerful Bofur.
Following the trio came Oin and Gloin- Oin, Bilba had met once or twice through Bofur, but Gloin was a new face. Both were ushered in with warm greetings, directions for weapons, cloaks and the like offered even as she cleared more space, wary of her mother's glory box. If anything were to happen to it, she wouldn't be able to forgive herself.
Fili and Kili arrived as they had in Ered Luin- boisterously, and with beaming smiles from one side of their cheeks to the other. As they realized that they knew the Hobbit on the other side of the door, their smiles grew even brighter as they bounded in, discarding their cloaks and weapons near carelessly. Bilba was certain that had she not been present, her mother's glory box would have suffered the indignity of muddy boots being wiped upon its edge.
But it was the arrival of Ori and Dori- and a suspicious lack of Nori- that lifted the Hobbit's spirits. With a squeal of utter delight, she had already thrown herself into the surprised arms of her dwarves, Ori almost immediately bursting into conversation as the pair examined her over, Dori tutting as he noted the new scar on her leg. Otherwise, he seemed content with her appearance, patting her on the crown of her head as he entered her smial.
"And Nori?" she inquired curiously, inwardly cursing the odd flutter that thrummed in her chest at the lack of the third dwarrow.
"He's been wandering again, but I wrote him before we left. He should have met us here, the blasted creature." Dori muttered darkly, Ori sighing silently behind him and miming some expression Bilba couldn't make out. "Especially since- well, we'll have to wait until the cursed wizard gets here to explain the rest."
"Rest, Dori." She shook her head in amusement. "Unless the others have eaten everything there is warm food and ale- perhaps some of my tea if you look in the kitchen. Help yourselves."
"Mahal bless you, lass." Dori sighed, finished in peeling himself out of his cloak and hanging it. "I'll have to beat off those two younglings if I want a meal tonight, I suspect."
With that, he was off down the hall, Ori close behind- though the younger dwarf turned and beamed in her direction as they went.
Mentally counting up the dwarves in her smial, Bilba hummed as she thought on sleeping arrangements. She was hardly about to send them out when it was already so late, and with Gandalf's meddling who knew what sort of nonsense he had in store for her?
While there was a moment of peace, she rejoined the chaos that was reigning in her dining room, skillfully navigating the exaggerated swings of ale from her time in the Grey Goose, managing to pick up empty plates as she went and going to refill them.
At one point or another, the door must have rung, for not several minutes later, Gandalf entered the room, the look of smug amusement swiftly turning to one of bemusement as he took in the scene laid out before him.
Fili and Kili were deep in an animated conversation with Ori and Bofur, Bifur rolling his eyes and making several animated gestures with his hands as Fili nearly choked on a mouthful of ale, Kili roaring with laughter as he pounded on his brother's back. Dwalin appeared deeply unamused with most of the goings, sequestered in the corner with his brother and a mug of something that looked like it could have been cider. Ori and Dori were nearly buried next to Bombur and Gloin, Oin attempting to hear the proceedings with his odd metal contraption he swore up and down worked on assisting his ailing hearing.
Amidst the raucous enjoyment of the dwarrow in her home, Bilba seemed quite at home, hardly at all the image that the wizard had portrayed in his own mind. It was in that moment that Gandalf realized that perhaps this idea was one that would have the opposite intended effect of his original intent. And judging by the quirked brow that Miss Bilba Baggins was levelling at him, this would only be the beginning of a very interesting evening in her company.
"Master Gandalf." She greeted pleasantly over the din, propping a hand on her hip and eying him head to toe. "I imagine you'd like to explain what you're doing, sending all these dwarrow to my door without any explanation of why?"
"Well," he began, "I am certain all will be explained once the final members of our company arrive. If you'll excuse me, Miss Bilba."
And with that, Gandalf waded through the chaos in search of a glass of wine.
"Ooh, I'm going to give that wizard a piece of my mind." She muttered, narrowing her eyes at his retreating form before instinctively catching a wayward piece of her great-aunt's pottery that would have gone flying into the wall. "Oi! No throwing my great-aunt's pottery, you utter heathens!"
-;-
The feast was in full swing when Bilba heard the bell chime at her door once more, excusing herself with little difficulty from her seat next to Ori before hurrying down the hall. Some deep part of her hoped that it was the missing son of Ri, while the other wondered if it was the other missing member of the crew of dwarrow that they continued to speak of in between bites of stew and roast.
In either outcome, Bilba hardly found herself disappointed to open her door and find a road-weary Nori standing before her.
"You finally decided to enter a home through the front door!" She couldn't help but laugh, leaping at her final dwarf and feeling something settle within her breast as he let out a startled chuckle, arms circling her and a familiar smirk pressed into her hair.
"It's certainly a better greeting than our first." He returned, removing himself to appraise the hobbit. "And you've finally grown a proper mane of hair."
"When attempting to irritate your distant relatives and general population of Hobbiton, one must do it correctly." She sniffed, tossing her curls over her shoulder. "However, that is a conversation best left for once you've come in and eaten something. Providing that the small hoard in my dining room haven't devoured it yet."
"Dori's letter mentioned something of a quest."
Bilba was certain there was an inquiry in there somewhere, but she shook her head as she took Nori's cloak, hanging it on the last bit of empty space she could maneuver it into before huffing.
"I know about as much as you. I'm hoping that blasted wizard explains himself soon- I'd like to give him a piece of my mind with dessert. Imagine if I'd been a proper Hobbit lass! Horrified, absolutely horrified." She shook her head. "Though we're still missing one from your number, if what Gandalf's been rambling about is true."
"I don't doubt it, sweets." He chuckled, ruffling her curls with fond amusement.
"Go on, I've got other business to attend to before I join you lot." Bilba said, shooing him off in the direction of laughter and merriment.
-;-
"Blunt the knives, bend the forks…"
"Don't you dare." Bilba warned, Bofur beaming as sunnily as a sunrise on a clear summer morning as he opened his mouth, the familiar tune echoing throughout her smial. She couldn't help but war with herself. On the one hand, she couldn't help that she inherently disliked the song that the dwarf had come up with. On the other, it was hopelessly endearing, and she had truly missed having moments like this.
"I appreciate that you're making the effort to clean the mess you've made, but please don't break any of my mothers West Farthing Pottery!" she snapped, ducking as a plate went sailing over her head, the other dwarrow picking up on Bofur's tune and continuing it as Bifur hummed and washed in the sink.
"And that's what Bilba Baggins hates!"
The moment of its conclusion, there came a loud, sound knock upon her door. The dwarves around her stilled before making to follow Bilba to the front of her smial, earning several swats and muttered deterrents from the female in question as she went for the door handle.
She blinked, unable to help the near soundless, "Dis?"
Apparently not quiet enough, given the muffled snigger from someone behind her. Without so much as a blink, she stepped onto the foot of the offender, earning a quiet curse. Kili, then.
"Allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."
The imposing dwarf stepped into the entrance of the smial, already going to pull the clasp for his thickly furred cloak, eyes boring into her own as the others offered muted greetings.
"So, this is the Hobbit."
Something about his tone suggested he was less than impressed with what he saw before him, and Bilba was beginning to think the same about him. Who was he, to step into her home and act as though he knew everything there was to know about her?
"So I am." She replied, watching closely as he folded his cloak and placed it on her mother's glory box.
"Tell me, Miss Baggins, have you done much fighting?"
Bilba quirked a brow as the dwarrow began to circle her, crossing her arms and staring at Gandalf out of the corner of her eye. This was all his fault, and he damn well knew it.
"That would depend on your definition of fighting."
"Axe or sword- what is your weapon of choice." Thorin continued on, the circle pausing as he took in her tone and stature.
"Neither. I prefer my knives and my walking staff if I must. Though I hardly see how this is relevant."
Thorin circled her again, as if to be sure, before pausing before her, thick brows furrowing over his eyes as he made final judgement.
"Looks to be more a grocer than a burglar."
The group chuckled at that one, more than one dwarrow who knew that she would quite happily give them all a piece of her mind given the opportunity, and trailed back into her dining room, leaving her standing with Gandalf.
"I blame you for this." She hissed darkly at the wizard, standing as tall as she could and jabbing her finger into his stomach.
Conversation had already begun to resume as Bilba returned to the dining room to clear the last bit of mess from the table. Thankfully, it seemed as though one of the dwarves had brought a bowl of stew out for the dark-haired dwarf. He looked so similar to Dis that they had to have been closely related, likely siblings.
As it didn't seem terribly relevant at the moment, Bilba continued on to her kitchen, intent on putting some of it to rights again before she was undoubtedly hailed for something or other. Hostess indeed.
But bless their hearts, they had gotten the dishes done. And she made quick work of putting them away on their correct shelves, wiping down everything else that was out of place. Most of her larder appeared to have migrated to her countertops and what little she hadn't used in the chaos of preparing dishes was put back to rights. Call it her traditional hobbit manners, call it personal preference, but she disliked her kitchens in disarray. Particularly since coming to know Dori. He certainly had managed to instill an extra layer of order into her kitchen since her return to the Shire.
"Bilba, my dear, would you mind terribly to join us a moment?"
Gandalf.
She sighed, wiping her hands on a cloth as she stepped into the room, the top step of the entrance levelling her with Gandalf's seated form. Or rather, the back of his head.
"Yes?"
"Let us have a little more light, my dear?"
She nodded, silently lighting several more hanging lanterns with practiced ease as Gandalf began speaking.
"On to the east, over ranges and rivers, woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak." He said ominously, lying out an inked parchment across the table. Bilba couldn't help but lean over, mouthing along some of the words until she raised a brow.
"The Lonely Mountain."
"Aye. Oin has read the portents and the portents say it is time." Gloin said firmly, looking at those seated around the table. Bilba sighed, rolling her eyes as she sensed a long, drawn out conversation, turning to wipe some of the greasy finger marks she could see on her walls.
"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as it was foretold. When the servants of air return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end."
Call her mad, but Bilba was beginning to see where this was going.
"Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age." Bofur drawled cheerfully. As if no one present wouldn't already know that, if it truly were their quest. "Airborn firebreather. Teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks. Extremely fond of precious metals."
"I'm not afraid. I'm up for it! I'll give him a taste of dwarfish iron right up his jacksies." Ori proclaimed, bolting up from his seat.
"Sit down." Dori growled, pulling Ori to his seat again, Nori shaking his head at the youngest's antics amid the mixed chuckles and jeers.
Bilba was really not liking where this was going. A sense of dread built in her chest, her hands shaking as she put the pieces of the puzzle together. She wasn't a fool. Many a dwarrow spoke in hushed whispers of the Lonely Mountain of Erebor, long since taken by the drake Smaug. She remembered hearing of the dwarf prince venturing out, seeking answers of some quest or another.
This was going to be a quest to take back the mountain from the dragon.
Bilba couldn't breathe.
The white-hot flame, licking at her heels as a roar of fury echoed after her, stealing her breath away as she dove for the safety of the pillar-
Dark laughter echoing across ice and snow, the glint of a blade her only warning as she brought her blade up to block the final blow-
Dwarrow, Men and Elf alike crumpling, indistinct enemies cutting them down-
A heart wrending shriek of agony, brought on by what could only be some great loss-
She returned to the present just long enough to find Dori's concerned gaze before her legs gave out and she knew no more.