WAIT!
HAVE YOU READ CHAPTER 26? OR 19-25? IF NOT, READ THOSE FIRST! I'VE BEEN UPDATING VERY QUICKLY IN A SHORT PERIOD OF TIME.
Quick heads up! This chapter gets a little… strange.
Also, this one fought me just as badly as the last one, if not more. I'm still not happy with it. Probably won't ever be if I keep staring at it, so I'll toss it to you in apology for the delay.
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 forest was sick. Sick in a way she had never felt the earth before, dark and oily as it sunk into her soles and infected her too, with its poison. She shivered, wrapping her arms about her as she looked for some kind of end, none to be found as a prickle of hair on her nape alerted her to something watching her-
The glimmer of silver eyes pinned her against the wall, a mouth of emptiness opening to swallow her whole even as she screamed-
Her mother screamed. Bilba searched for the sound, frantic as the baying of wolves reached her ears. This wasn't supposed to happen- something was wrong, this wasn't how this was supposed to go-
A pale orc, astride a white warg, his gaze fixated on her even from a great distance. One ear was missing, a new scar across his face from where she'd managed to desperately carve herself a moment of time-
Manacled wrists in front of her, though it couldn't have possibly been her hands. They were the wrong shape and size for a Hobbit, thick and scarred flesh trailing up her arms as he raised his gaze to the creatures who had sought to ravage his kind-
Blood, rushing in rivers around her ankles like mud, rising and rising until she had to close her eyes as her head finally went under-
He was gone. She had looked, searched for hours, but found no sign of him. Her heart felt as though it cracked with the realization that he truly did not want her after all-
Even if the king would not listen, his heir surely would. He had been nothing but courteous toward her, offering to bring her whatever she may need-
Cold. Dark, endless cold. It seeped into her very veins, stealing her breath away as she curled into herself. Would they even notice she was gone, she wondered? The distant roar in her ears was fading-
The sword came down.
-;-
She bolted upright, nausea in her throat as she grappled for something to hold on to. Something to prove she was still alive even as the pounding of her head echoed throughout her entire body. A layer of cold sweat had soaked through the bandages against her skin; she could feel the uncomfortable stickiness as it clung to her.
Bilba found Nori's hand, calloused and warm, latching onto it like a lifeline as she exhaled slowly, shakily.
"Bilba?" Cool hands touched her overheated cheeks- despite herself, she leaned into the touch with a soft sound of appreciation, eyes closing for a moment. It felt so wonderful, having those cool hands against her skin.
"Mahal's beard, you've a fever, lass."
She didn't say anything to that, making a noise of protest as Bofur pulled his hands away from her face, Nori grunting as he roused himself behind her.
Their conversation went over her head, but Bilba could probably imagine the gist of it. She felt disgusting, miserable as she brought her knees up to her chest to lean her head, hating how ill she felt. It probably shouldn't have come as much of a surprise that she would catch cold; she'd been soaking wet, wandering around the goblin caves for days, and then injured. The real miracle was that she hadn't caught something sooner.
Never mind the prickling that every inch of her body felt as she tried to remember what exactly she'd been dreaming of that had spooked her so badly to wake. Best guess, visions to some degree. It didn't mean that she felt any better about it. All of the visions she remembered had usually left the same impression of dread lingering, her body tuned into some invisible threat that didn't exist.
Someone must have woken Oin; he was the next to cup her jaw, tilting her head this way and that, checking her shoulder and the cuts and scrapes for infection before confirming that it was, for the moment, a simple cold.
"Blasted wizard." The healer grumbled. "He'd best be returning of news of shelter soon or this could just as easily turn to infection."
Nori's arms snaked around her middle, mindful of their positions as she continued to shiver wretchedly. It had admittedly been a number of years since Bilba had come down with some form of ailment from failing to consider the weather; she couldn't recall ever feeling quite so ill as she did now.
Bofur returned, draping his and Bifur's coats around Nori and Bilba's shoulders in an attempt to keep them warm. While it was still cool during the evenings, the summer weather ensured that it was still warm enough that some nights could be more uncomfortable than others, balmy and humid.
"Oin's makin' you some tea." The miner said quietly, feeling Bilba's forehead once more before sitting down heavily, a yawn escaping him. "A good thing he's got his herbs back."
"Mm." Bilba hummed, leaning her head back onto Nori's shoulder, inhaling the faint earthen scent of his hair. Nori's hands gently rubbed down the uninjured side of her torso, friction creating some warmth and soothing some of the aches and pains that came with being ill. "A good thing I found you at all."
"Aye, and we'll be asking for that tale once we find somewhere safe to rest." Dori clucked, shuffling over to join the small group. "And before you try scolding anyone, we've agreed to wait on sorting out our grievances until that point comes about."
Bilba snorted, mouth closing. She had been about to ask if Dori and Thorin had sorted things out, but it seemed she wasn't as subtle as she thought.
"I have a fever." She said, feeling a tad petulant as she blinked tiredly. She wished her shoulder didn't hurt so bloody much at the moment. "Remind me to stab Azog somewhere appropriately debilitating the next time we have a run in with him, would you Nori?"
There was a startled noise that she belatedly realized was laughter as he choked back the sound.
"I'll be sure to mention it." He replied, tone strained. Likely because Dori was sitting right next to them. Once again, it seemed as though there would be a gap between them Bilba didn't know how to help bridge. They were both as stubborn as donkeys, she grouched to herself.
"Ah, and there I thought we'd lost our Bell somewhere along the way." Bofur chuckled; he'd returned to further shaping the pipe in his hands, this time assisted by one of Bifur's more suitable tools. "It's been too long since we had your breed of wit, lass."
Bifur nodded in agreement, a fond expression crossing his features as he glanced over to them. He was unbothered by the events, his weapon at his side. With each creak of a branch or rustle of leaves, his hand ghosted over the handle- they were all still on edge, not knowing where the next fight would be coming from.
"Mm." she sniffed. "I'll be better soon. We Hobbits are rather known for our good health, you know."
"Unless they've got death wishes, apparently." Dori rolled his eyes, making room for Oin as he returned, a mug of steaming liquid pushed into Bilba's functioning hand.
"It's nothing terribly fancy. Peppermint for nausea and chamomile for fever." The healer grunted. "Drink that up and see if ye can't get some rest before the blasted wizard drags us off again."
"Thank you, Oin."
His features softened marginally at the quiet voice, bobbing his head in her direction before moving back to where he'd been sleeping, Bilba presumed. It was still dark, the stars glittering above them as she sipped the tea, her eyelids already beginning to drop.
Someone pulled the cup away from her and reclined her back down against Nori's chest, remaining curled in an attempt to stop the shivers that wracked her.
Then, she knew only sleep.
-;-
Gandalf returned only a short while later, bringing with him tidings of potential shelter amid warnings that their potential host could be temperamental at best. Though considering the wizard's history, no one in the company should have been terribly surprised to hear the news.
Bilba was still feely poorly, roused from sleep feeling briefly refreshed, though the ache in her bones suggested that she was nowhere near the end of her illness. Oin managed to get another mug of miscellaneous herbs and plants worth of medicinal property into her before they set off, the hobbit unusually quiet. It was a sharp contrast to the spit-fire that had torn their illustrious leader and Dori down a peg the night before, and a sign that they rather needed to be on their way before anyone's condition worsened.
Not that they would be moving anywhere very quickly.
Thorin, certainly, was the most seriously injured of the company, Bilba coming in at a close second. Nori had been injured fairly badly from the goblins and had managed broken ribs and a head injury- not to mention Ori had also taken a hit to the head and was nursing a headache of the ages. Gloin had taken a sword to the leg and was favoring it with reasonable soreness. Bifur was bruised spectacularly- and, Bilba thought irritably, Dori was looking too stiff to not have some measure of back injury. That conclusion was drawn from his slightly stooped posture as he pulled Bilba's pack onto his shoulders.
Bloody, stubborn dwarrow.
None of them looked to be in any shape to be going anywhere quickly, no matter how Gandalf attempted to urge them onward. But, as they all knew, there was an orc pack on their trail. One that likely happened to be looking for more than just Thorin's head, if the pointed glances to the hobbit lass were any indication.
So here they were, the light of dawn nowhere in sight as they trundled along in the dark of the early morning, trying to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the orcs.
Bilba snuffled miserably, wiping her nose with a strip of her skirts she'd ripped. It wasn't a proper handkerchief, but it would do in a pinch to stop her sinuses from feeling like they would explode in her skull.
Gandalf elaborated shortly on what they could expect from the house that they were travelling to, and of its occupant. A skin-changer, whom at times took the form of a great bear, others a man. While the bear was known to be quite unpredictable, the man could be reasoned with.
(Considering this statement was followed up with the musings that he also preferred the company of animals to folk, Bilba was inclined to believe the man would perhaps not be as friendly as the wizard claimed.)
The forest was thickly wooded; enough so that Bilba almost couldn't tell when the dawn was coming until the sky had lightened considerably. There was a mist that drifted through the trees, the clouds above them clearing as the day bloomed in full. She did her best to appreciate the small things despite the shivers that set in, regardless of Bofur loaning her his coat again and walking next to her in an attempt to shield her from the conditions. Her legs felt jellied beneath her, shoulder throbbing in time with her steps. The terrain was not terribly friendly to the other dwarrow, let alone an injured hobbit with a broken shoulder and already dubious balance issues.
Sunlight broke through the cloud cover as they finally made it to the edge of the wood. Bilba nearly gasped at the sight of the land before them; a massive house set in behind a thick layer of foliage, smoke billowing from the chimney even from the distance they stood.
She wasn't the only one to breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of possible refuge.
And then, of course, Gandalf had to mention that Beorn was not over-fond of dwarves.
Well, Bilba thought to herself, I think I see where this is going.
Whatever had been in the tea Oin had managed to get into her was wearing off by now, a thin sheen of sweat beginning to form again as she stomped her foot- a motion she immediately regretted given the condition she was in.
"You're not coming." She snapped at the wizard, feeling some measure of pleasure from the sight of his eyebrows disappearing beneath the rim of his hat. "You've caused enough trouble for one day. I for one would like to stand a chance in asking for aid from a stranger. Balin, would you accompany me?"
"Of course, lass." He nodded, looking two parts concerned and amused as he straightened his jacket and offered her his arm. She took it gratefully, shooting a pointed glare over her shoulder at the rest of the company as they started toward the house.
The closer they got to the large, neat hedge surrounding the house, the more Bilba noticed the things that they hadn't seen at a distance. Horses roamed the fields beyond the home's structure amongst others. Bilba was almost certain she had seen several sheep trotting along before she took in the greenery itself.
It was almost like she was home amid the flowers and greenery and other earthen things the Lady Yavanna had crafted Hobbits for and from. It eased some of the tension from her shoulders- if she tried, Bilba could almost forget she and Balin were about to try and talk a skin changing bear-man into allowing them to take refuge in his home for the foreseeable future.
But not quite.
They followed the sound of rhythmic metal upon wood, finally happening upon him behind the house.
"Good morning." Bilba greeted, seeing no reason to raise her voice as she was met with the sight of the Man's calves. He was taller than any other Man she had ever seen, never mind the bear-like appearance he kept with a long mane of hair that trailed down his spine. "Are you Beorn, guardian of this beautiful land?"
He swung his axe down with a sound that sent a pang of hurt through Bilba's already pounding skull, hardly bothering to pause in his task as he grunted something that could have been an affirmative.
"Who are you." His voice was low rolling thunder as he spoke, his tone slow. Judging from his stance, it was not an often thing of getting visitors knocking on his door. Or waltzing into his home, as it may be.
Yavanna help her, she managed to do the stupidest things in the company of dwarves.
"I am Bilba. This is Master Balin, a friend of mine." She introduced, offering what curtsey she was able to given the state of her health. Honestly, she wasn't entirely certain how she'd managed to remain on her feet for so long. Sheer force of will?
"What do you want?" the man growled, turning to face them fully. Bilba couldn't help but note the scarred wrists and manacles gracing the flesh there, a flicker of a dream in her mind. He sniffed, much as she'd seen any creature do, eying her with some odd expression she couldn't name before flicking his intense gaze on Balin. "You are injured. Only a fool would attempt to pry mercy from another."
"No, I'm afraid I'm simply the only one with any sense aside from my companion." Bilba sighed, swaying on her feet. "Quite fairly, I would not fault you for wanting nothing to do with us. We befell poor fortune in the mountains, losing most of our supplies. There are three younglings and several injured in our company."
"Bringing a female and younglings through lands like these is unwise." Beorn rumbled, grip shifting on his axe. "A foolish choice."
"It was not one willingly chosen." Balin interjected, tone politely even as always. "We were ambushed along our path."
"You were. I fell off the side of a mountain." Bilba corrected before remembering they weren't alone. "However, our company came to be attacked by goblins and orcs."
"And wargs." Balin reminded her.
"Right." She nodded wearily. How could she possibly have forgotten the wargs?
Bilba had no illusions that Beorn would simply allow them to walk in to his home. She wouldn't either; especially knowing the kind of luck that followed her dwarrow. However, the skin changer was not looking at them in open distaste- there was a glimmer of something in his eyes as he studied the pair before him. She, a hobbit lass who might literally tip over at any moment, and Balin; an older dwarrow who carried no weapons but looked just as tired and worn as she.
"We know you hold little regard for dwarves." She said, daring meet his gaze. "Even if you might spare some food or materials to craft packs, we would be most appreciative; I'm afraid we have little to offer you in payment but a promise to leave your lands swiftly."
"Even allowing us to take some herbs from your garden to aid our healing would be more than enough." Balin added. "Our healer's pack was lost amid the chaos of battle."
Beorn made a sound in his throat, consideringly. He finally lowered his axe, leaning against it as he met Bilba's gaze.
"What befell you, little one, that you have sustained such injury?"
"I fell from a mountain, amongst other things." She admitted tiredly. "I'm not entirely certain how I haven't passed to my Lady's halls yet, myself."
"You are ill."
"Yes."
Beorn's gaze flicked back to Balin, a deep rumble in his chest as he seemed to think on something for several long minutes. Bilba leaned against Balin, her energy nearly spent entirely. The amount of exertion she'd been put through had taken a toll on her body; more than she'd intended to admit to.
"Your tales. I would hear them. Then I will pass judgement." The giant of a man said, coming to some conclusion in his mind. "Bring your company. I hold no love for dwarves, but orcs I hate more."
"Thank you." Bilba sighed in relief.
"You will stay, little one. You would sooner be swept off your feet by a swift breeze." The man frowned down at her. "Sit with me while your dwarf retrieves the others. A bunny like you should not be wandering off."
"I-" she started, feeling her cheeks flush.
Balin touched her arm, nodding in assurance as he bowed respectfully to Beorn before wordlessly starting off back through the gardens, his red jacket the standing out against the lush greens.
Leaving her alone with a too-tall man staring at her with a look in his eye that suggested he would not be allowing her out of his sight any time soon.
Fantastic.