WAIT!
HAVE YOU READ CHAPTER 27? OR 19-26? 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. Borderline creepy in some ways.
(Basically, I couldn't make it work in the last chapter and plopped it here instead. You're welcome.)
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.
-;-
Beorn, for all of his supposed hatred of dwarves and grumblings, was a caretaker by nature. Bilba would have had to be deaf, dumb and blind not to notice it as he carefully herded the hobbit into his home, fetching a too-large quilt to drape around her shoulders and helping her up onto the bench of his table. Of which, Bilba would note, the seat nearly being at eye level.
By the time the rest of the company arrived, Beorn was past disbelief and well into startled amusement watching the hobbit lass pack away food. Having never had an encounter of one of her race before, Bilba really couldn't fault him for not expecting to estimate the amount of food a Hobbit could feasibly eat.
(Joke on him, if she'd had both hands available, the amount would be double.)
Herb breads, milk, cheeses, vegetables, butter, fruits and honey cakes were laid out in an impressive spread along the table- paired with a honeyed mead that was by far the best Bilba ever tasted. She noted as much to Beorn, who nearly puffed out in pleasure.
The Hobbit couldn't help but notice the strategic placement of the seating arrangements as the dwarves clambered up onto the bench, either. Ori and Nori on one side, the youngest heir and his brother on the other. Thorin was across from the table, trapped between Dwalin and Oin- of which who appeared quite intent on ensuring he managed to eat enough to their satisfaction. The rest of the more mature dwarrow were less focused on their own meals, instead watching the heirs and Ori- by extension the Hobbit- to ensure that they ate enough.
By far the best point in the meal- at least in Bilba's opinion- was when Gandalf cleared his throat, apparently intent on speaking; only to be silenced by a downright blood-chilling growl from their host. If anyone asked, Bilba would freely admit to taking the liberty of… alerting Beorn of the wizard's specific personality traits. Namely those that caused him to shove his nose into business that didn't concern him and rather enjoying being the center of attention at all times.
Take that for barging into her smial back in Bag End.
It proved most entertaining to watch Gandalf be cowed from a single sound. It seemed that not even a wizard was unafraid of everything.
Once food consumption had run down- empty bellies sated fully and dishes cleared from the table- Beorn finally took his seat with an audible sound that called attention to the room. The light of the late afternoon sun glowed against the richness of the warm wood beams above them, dust motes flickering lazily in the air. He turned his deep gaze to the gathered dwarrow, wizard, and finally the Hobbit. Not to Thorin, as Bilba might have expected, but her.
"I would hear your tale, little bunny." The skin changer rumbled, leaning over the table with some interest. "Tell me how your company came to my halls."
"I suppose I'll be able to tell you as much I am able, Mister Beorn." Bilba agreed, taken aback at the request. "At least until the Misty Mountains. That is where our paths and stories differ."
"Very well." The man nodded, dark gaze fixated on her as Bilba sipped at her mead, thinking on how best to start her tale before clearing her throat.
Not that many would take the time to find out, but Hobbits are well renowned for their storytelling ability. Bilba's trio of dwarrow in particular were aware of this; Ori fidgeted eagerly as he shifted his full attention toward her as she began telling her tale. Or her version of events, as it was.
She spoke as sparsely as she could over the day a company of dwarves had shown up at her doorstep and the subsequent… events, of the evening she'd undergone.
By the end of her summarization of their disastrous encounter with the mountain trolls, Kili and Fili were leaning in eagerly like faunts for a bed-time tale as if they hadn't been through it themselves. She wove a scene of peril across the plains from the orcs. The days spent in Rivendell, though her own personal brand of wit colored the events and elves they'd met there.
While there had not been much that had occurred between Rivendell and the journey leading up to the Misty Mountains, Bilba couldn't help the fondness that crept into her tone as she thought on how the company had grown closer. It wasn't grand things or gestures; small things, like the way the dwarves spoke or mannerisms or- well, the little things.
And then came the Misty Mountains.
Bilba's voice faltered then, hand shaking as she sipped her mead.
Thorin- bless him- seamlessly took over, his voice low as he recounted the dwarrows harrowing experience in the Goblin King's court. The three days it took before Gandalf finally caught up to their company and the subsequent battle to free themselves and find a way out of the mountain.
Bilba found herself leaning forward, horrified yet awed of the scene the dwarf painted in her mind. She pulled Ori into her side as Thorin recalled how the goblins had gone for the youngest of their number first, disgust coloring his tone. Running her fingers through Ori's hair, she murmured promises that she would never allow them to touch him again. Not as long as she lived to say anything about it.
Thorin went on to describe the escape into the wilds, the flight that had not paused for even a moment until they were sure they were far enough away from the mountains. Of Gandalf's query as to where their Hobbit was evoked more than a few flinches around the table; though not nearly as much as the look Beorn gave Bilba as Thorin described in detail how she had taken Azog the Defiler on with naught but her sword.
"Not a little bunny after all but a badger!" the skin changer barked something that might have been a laugh, a gleam in his eye. "Now, little badger, your tale."
Bilba nodded, feeling every gaze of the room on her sharply as she downed the rest of her mead, steeling her shoulders before beginning.
Her fall, which had taken her to the small ledge with naught but an old tree keeping her from falling to her death. The harrowing climb down the rock face to a cave that was her only chance in keeping her alive. How she'd somehow found her way into the mountain and fallen prey to some form of madness, seeing and hearing things that weren't there, unable to sleep so long as her blade continued to glow.
"I had nearly lost hope when I found your packs." She offered finally, unable to help the small smile at recalling the hope that had flooded her. "I knew that if anything were to come of it, at least some of our belongings would make it out the other side."
"Aye, and we thank you, lass." Someone said.
Bilba nodded, closing her eyes. "And… then I heard something. It wasn't an orc or goblin, whatever it was, but it was there- these awful, silver eyes staring at me from the dark. And it was talking to itself, asking if- if it could eat me."
The only sound in the room was the fire crackling in the hearth somewhere over her shoulder.
"It attacked me." She said simply, gesturing to her face. "I don't know if it thought I was a goblin or what it even was- all I know is it was living down there for a very, very long time to have turned to itself for company."
She cried out as she hit the ground, the creature doing the same with an awful sound that echoed eerily around the empty caverns, clutching at its face as she was-
"It- I think there was more than just one persona in its head. It kept muttering a word to itself. Gollum."
"Startles us, it does, precious." The higher pitched of the voices cried out, the creature trying to put as much distance as possible between itself and Bilba.
"Tries to kills us, precious. We can eats it." The other voice hissed. "Gollum! Gollum!"
"I still don't know how it happened, but it was looking for something. A ring. It thought it might have been dropped and I just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. So I offered to help it find its ring in exchange for showing me the way out."
A delighted smile revealed that the creature only had a handful of teeth at best, clapping its hands and doing what Bilba could only assume was some kind of dance in a demented twirl-
"And did you find it?" Fili asked, brows furrowed. "The ring?"
"I found it, all right." Bilba replied distantly. "I held my sword at its throat and told it I would return it once it showed me the way out."
The ring was a pretty thing, solid gold and plain as she held it in her hand. The creature's eyes watched her as keenly as any hawk as it grouched, growled and muttered mutinously, clambering over rocks and baring teeth at her ominously.
She knew without a doubt that the second she handed it over, the creature would turn on her without hesitation.
"It could have turned on me easily before then, but it didn't." she mused, thinking on those eerie silver eyes locked on her. Even now, the hair on the back of her neck prickled at the thought of it. "But it took me to a back entrance of sorts. I didn't even think- I threw the ring as hard as I could into the cave and ran for it."
The glint of the light on the band almost had Bilba chasing after it herself, some deep, dark part of her whispering that it would have been so easy to keep it and cherish it far more than the insignificant speck that had been wearing it before.
"As promised." She told it, watching the silver eyes lock onto the ring. "Go get it."
She hurled it as hard as she was able to, ignoring the flash of pain in her shoulder, the scream of panic from the creature as it scrambled after the small bauble, disappearing into the dark. Bilba didn't waste any time, launching herself from the ground into the light and praying the creature wouldn't be able to give chase.
"I think it was only dumb luck that I managed to find the company again." Bilba said, shoving all thoughts of it from her mind. It wasn't the whole tale, nor would anyone save her own dwarrow pry it out of her, but it was enough to convey what had happened. "Even more so in keeping Azog from killing Thorin before I had the bloody chance to get him to his mountain."
Silence followed the statement as they all digested the new information. Bilba felt Gandalf's gaze on her but refused to look in his direction, still idly running her fingers through Ori's hair. Propriety be damned, she needed some measure of reassurance after reliving the time she'd spent wandering in the dark.
"A fierce little badger, indeed." Beorn said consideringly, brow furrowed as he mulled their stories in his mind. "Very well. Your company is welcome in my halls for tonight. I will go and see for myself if the words you speak ring true. Do not leave this house once the sun sets, and treat my friends kindly."
That was that, apparently.
Their host vanished before too many questions could be voiced, leaving the company to begin settling in for the night; at some point during their conversation, pillows and blankets had been retrieved and set down upon the hay by the sheep and dogs Bilba had caught glimpses of earlier.
Gandalf made himself scarce, though if the look on the wizard's face was any indication, he would not be following Beorn's request to stay indoors at all.
Bilba didn't even have it in her to be surprised by much the wizard did anymore, to be honest. It had been several months since the beginning of their journey- if there was to be any new information coming to light, she would rather it be lighthearted or silly, inconsequential things that had nothing to do with putting any of their lives into jeopardy.
Oin was ecstatic to find willow bark readily available, brewing a tea and going in his rounds to put them all to bed- starting with Thorin.
Unfortunately for the cantankerous princeling, he didn't stand much of a chance against the combined efforts of Dwalin, Balin, Oin, and his nephews. He drank his tea mutinously as he reclined against the support of the pillows he'd stuffed behind his back.
Bilba and Nori were next, the healer glowering at Nori before the thief relented and sipped the brew, making a face as he did so. Bilba felt some measure of sympathy for him; she knew that he didn't much enjoy having his capacities impaired. Dori hovered over all three of them until Oin shoved a mug of tea into his hand and went on his way, muttering in Khuzdul.
That seemed to cheer Nori some as they settled in for the first half-decent rest in a while. Bilba found herself in between Ori and Nori, Dori getting wrangled into a spooning situation with Bifur as the older dwarrow firmly wrapped himself around the eldest Ri like a leech.
It was almost like being home again. Not the smial- that had hardly felt like a home near the end anyways. No, it felt like home in the Blue Mountains. What with the low murmurs back and forth, the shifting of weight upon hay and fabrics, the low snores that started up as she watched the moonlight dance across the beams of the ceiling.
Home was where her heart was.
-;-
It went without saying that as she woke, Bilba knew she would not be getting much rest that night. Despite the heaviness in her limbs- the result of the willow bark- the Hobbit managed to extract herself from the pile of dwarves she was a part of with ease. That done, she tried to shake off the new layer of sweat and the chills that ran under her flesh, drawing the shawl she'd found around her shoulders.
Why was this happening to her?
Every time she closed her eyes, she could see the glimpses of the things she'd remembered. For each one she did recall, how many others remained that were locked away from her?
Pressing the heel of her hand against her eye, she padded over to one of the open windows, somehow managing to get a leg up onto the window seat and breathe without fear of waking one of her dwarves.
Under the light of the moon, Beorn's gardens swayed to the warm breeze that brushed along it. In the distance, she thought she could make out a couple of horses standing guard over the herd, black and white coats shining in pale light.
"You cannot sleep."
Were she still new to the quest and those in the company, Bilba might have shrieked. As it was, her hand went to one of her daggers before realizing who it was clambering up to join her.
"No." she admitted, wary of Thorin's too-knowing look. "Too much on my mind, I suppose."
They sat there in relatively peaceful companionship. Bilba examined him as subtly as she could; his hair, the creases of his features worn in by time.
She would be the first to admit just how tough a nut Thorin bloody-Oakenshield was to crack.
But she wasn't a fool, either.
Emotionally constipated as he was, Thorin did care; he just didn't quite know how to go about showing it. His concern usually manifested in the sharply barked orders he doled out left, right and center- a fear of losing those closest to him. Just like she noticed the soft glances he would give his nephews whenever they weren't paying attention. The way he would automatically put himself between whatever imagined threats he thought of, or the way his brows furrowed whenever he was baffled by lighthearted nonsense.
Bilba had realized a while back that Thorin didn't hate her; not as she'd first thought. It had changed somewhere between Rivendell and the Misty Mountains- that long on the road together certainly would have meant getting to know everyone better. But while she could say in certainty he didn't hate her, she also didn't know exactly on which ground she stood. Thorin's moods tended to shift from one side of the scale to the other with very little balance in between.
"I owe you my life."
"You owe me nothing." She shook her head. "If anything is to be owed, I suspect you already know to whom it belongs."
"The House of Ri." Thorin said slowly, turning to meet Bilba's gaze.
"I am one of their House." She said, lips quirking upward. "Whether or not you acknowledge it."
There was that look of emotional constipation again. She knew she had him and he didn't want to admit it.
"Hobbits have no need for debts, life or otherwise." She continued idly, turning her gaze back out to the fields laid out before them. "We would rather have the comforts of home and the simple things in life. Most of us, anyway."
"That would place me in a difficult position."
"Oh, you're creative enough to sort something out." Bilba snorted. "Your debt is to the House of Ri. As I am an unrecognized member by your standard, that would mean I'm allowed to delegate someone to represent me in dwarven matters, does it not?"
Ah, the perks of listening to Balin's lessons with Ori.
Judging by the reluctantly impressed look Thorin's features pinched into, he'd realized she'd talked him into a figurative corner as well. "It isn't so simple-"
"Isn't it?" Bilba challenged him. "You're the King of your people, Thorin Oakenshield. Only you can choose what others see in the generations to come. The question is, will they see a King who put aside past prejudice against other races? Or someone else?"
"For one so unassuming, you are far too sharp-tongued." The prince muttered, though his tone held no bite.
"I'm afraid I can't take credit for that. We Hobbits have adapted our society around such things." Bilba smirked. "Our insults are concealed within the propriety of Hobbitish sensibilities."
"So I'm learning." The dwarf chuckled, features softening marginally.
Thorin was handsome when he smiled- it was like the years melted off of him and let the younger dwarrow he was shine through.
"You are a good prince to your people, Thorin." Bilba said gently, reaching out to touch his knee. "You inspired these dwarrow to leave the only home that most have ever known. You. Don't allow your past to write your future before you've had the chance to."
"Thank you, Mistress Baggins." He said, sincere. The silver in his hair caught the light as he averted his gaze- Bilba thought she could see a suspicious sheen to his eyes that further softened her opinion of the dwarf. "You don't know what your words mean to me."
"My name is Bilba. I think we've come far enough to call me that." She patted him sympathetically. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me, stubborn dwarf."
She shot one last look out over the gardens before sliding down from the perch. She wasn't terribly tired yet, but Thorin looked like he had some things to think about. Besides, sometimes all it took to distract her from her own thoughts was the opportunity to simply talk.
Nori provided an excellent source of heat as the hobbit returned to the group, mindful of his ribs as she tucked herself against his side. Ori rolled automatically, arm landing across her stomach before stilling once more.
She closed her eyes, willing her body to relax.
-;-
The gleaming gold of the coins and jewels beneath her feet tinkled like bells as she whirled, feeling as though this was something new. Something different than she'd felt before in her visions. This was too real, too clear of a picture to be anything but some horrid combination of nightmare and vision.
She could hear children laughing, their footsteps betraying them as they frolicked somewhere out of sight.
It wasn't safe here.
Pillars stretched up as if to touch the sky, disappearing into the dark as she tried to sort out where exactly she was. Some deep, instinctive part of her felt she knew this place, though she knew she had never stepped foot upon the gold beneath her feet before.
A flicker of copper curls vanished behind a pile of gold, the laughter going with it. She thought she might have seen a mischievous face poke back out for a moment, but even as she blinked the faunt vanished.
Something was deeply wrong with this place, an old and ancient evil that she could feel resonating to her bones as she followed the faunts, hoping that she could find some answers in the place she now found herself.
"Hello?" Her voice echoed, bouncing back and reverberating in the grand hall.
Glimmering scales, shimmering like the gold, rippling as the gold beneath them shuddered-
She gasped, shaking her head.
The hall was empty, no sign of gold or the faunts she was certain that she'd heard and seen.
She was looking for someone. Who?
A flicker of movement disappearing around a pillar attracted her attention. It could only be a dwarf; she recognized the build of whoever it was.
They were leaving.
"Wait! Don't leave!" she pleaded, grasping onto whatever bit of clothing she could. "Don't leave me here!"
A slither of flesh across the polished rock had her instinctively letting go of the mysterious stranger; they vanished into shadow, no sign of their presence ever having been there as she turned in horror.
Revulsion hit her as she watched the faunt distort, limbs creaking and crackling, eyes gleaming venomous silver as teeth rotted before her eyes, spine curled, fingers warped into claws.
"Is it soft?" it asked in the sweet tone of a child, head cocking as lips peeled back into a snarl. "Can we eats it?"
It was all she could do to turn, to try and run, but she couldn't. Below her feet, the floor melted, sucking her down into the swirling jade inch by inch as blood and black ichor blended together, draining down the same hole she was going.
"I'd be tempted to give it to you, if only to watch your precious dwarves go mad with it."
Teeth snapped at her heels, the sound as loud as a thunderclap as heat followed her panicked flight, heart pounding in her chest-
Bodies surrounded her, stretching as far as the eye could see. Breath hitching, she tried not to look, tripping over something to come face to face with Nori's lifeless gaze.