WAIT!
HAVE YOU READ CHAPTER 29? OR 19-28? IF NOT, READ THOSE FIRST! I'VE BEEN UPDATING VERY QUICKLY IN A SHORT PERIOD OF TIME.
All right then, I'm back! I fell into a crafting project and lost a couple days there. Oopsies. Good news, now I have a new sweater!
This chapter is one I've been looking forward to since right near the beginning, even though I didn't have a dang thing written for it. It's also basically the main reason it's taken so long for me 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.
-;-
A little over a week into their stay at Beorn's home, Bilba suspected ulterior motives in the copious amounts of food being set before her nearly every free moment of the day. Never mind the three scheduled meals; that was another matter entirely.
First it was small things- seeds, mostly- a trail mixture that reminded Bilba of her mother making something similar in the kitchen for her own adventures. Then it was slipping in honey cakes and other smaller snack foods, easy things to get underneath her notice because it was establishing a more Hobbity eating schedule. But then she was just constantly eating and snacking, usually absently as she went about exploring the grounds, sewing, and striking up conversation with their host.
She was beginning to put on some weight, filling out her slightly too-baggy shirts once again. Being a Hobbit with a sparse appetite at the best of times, it was nice to regain a slight curve to her figure. She'd rather missed it, truth be told. Between the every day wear of travel and the… harsher than usual conditions they'd endured as of late, Bilba had lost quite a bit of already waning weight.
Seeing the fruits of his efforts in plumping up the "little badger" pleased Beorn to no end, the skin changer taking it as high praise for not only the amount of food the hobbit could eat at any given moment, but also the fact she did so without a word of complaint. The same could not be said about the rest of the company at any given moment in the day- half the lot didn't seem to know what to do about the giant Man hovering and fretting over them incessantly.
Dori and Oin, on the other hand, were immensely pleased to see the Hobbit begin to gain some pounds back on her bones. Dori, being a talented tailor in his right, knew Bilba's measurements and could very likely tell just how much weight she'd lost thanks to their jaunt into the wilds. Oin, by comparison, was just pleased to see some color back in her cheeks and a skip in her step after meals.
Really, it seemed to please most of the company to some extent, seeing their burglar return to brighter spirits. Well, save Gandalf, but he was an exception considering he was still making himself scarce. From what Bilba could guess, he was scouting ahead to the forests of Mirkwood- and wasn't that a charming name for a place they were supposed to go traipsing into?
At this point, the hobbit was growing more suspicious that the wizard would be parting ways with the dwarrow come their eventual departure of Beorn's home. That thought was compounded by the number of times he and Thorin had one of their silent staring matches before the grey clad wizard vanished again without so much as a by your leave.
Terrible manners, that. Bilba's aunt Pansy would have boxed his ears if he'd ever tried such a thing with her back in her hay day.
Beorn was endlessly amused by Bilba's mutterings on the matter, sharing more than a few of her sentiments in regard to the elusive wizard. Still, it did little to damper spirits; her dwarves finally seemed to have come to the conclusion it was easier to bite their tongues and endure the enforced mothering of an overly-interested skin changer than to risk the wrath of a very tired Hobbit lass.
In hindsight, it probably meant that there was one thing the hobbit should have seen coming.
Knowing that too much amicable- at the very least tolerant- peace between the company was too much to hope for.
Not that there was anything too obvious about it, at first. Bilba knew she'd given the sorry lot quite a tongue lashing; while she'd talked to Thorin and somehow by extension instilled a tentative peace, there was something… off. A suspicious niggling that had the hobbit on edge every time someone- usually Thorin- so much as twitched.
No, it began when Thorin approached Beorn and asked for a word.
The action alone was unusual enough. Thorin was quite content to give the skin changer a wide berth and submit himself to Oin's tender mercies with the willow bark tea he continuously supplied the dwarf to aid in his still bruised ribs healing.
No, what really had the hair on the back of Bilba's neck prickling was the point in which Thorin said something only Beorn could hear and the Man glanced in her direction. A slow nod and a wave of his massive, paw like hand, and the dwarf followed him into another room without complaint.
Oh, Bilba didn't like that.
She didn't like that at all.
Despite her reservations at the apparent madness of seeing Beorn and the dwarves willingly spending time in one another's company, Bilba put the thought from her mind and spent the next couple of days outside in the gardens with only herself for company.
She wasn't about to get her hands dirty in whatever nonsense going on between the skin changer and her dwarrow- something was sure to come to light sooner or later, and the hobbit had already decided she wanted no part of it.
The Hobbit muttered something to that effect as she made quick work of stitching in the last row of seams on her new breeches. Over the last week, she'd been sidetracked several times for other small projects, not only from her trio of dwarves but the rest of the company as well. A hole here, a ripped seam there- the repairs were all well and good for her to keep her hands and mind busy; however, it was nice to return to her original task in creating better suited clothing for the journey still ahead.
Blast and confusticate those dwarves. And blast them again for making that insult sound so fond in her mind.
So deep in her musing, she didn't hear Beorn's approach until he spoke.
"For one so little who speaks so fondly of her company, you spend more time away from them than with, little badger."
Bilba rolled her shoulder, glad once again for the thorough efforts of Oin and Gandalf's healing, before shielding her eyes and looking up, up, up to meet the skin changer's amused gaze.
Not for the first time, her gaze caught on the manacles that remained upon his wrists, unable to shake the feeling she'd seen them before in her visions. As to what degree she could only hazard a guess, but there was always a deep sense of unease that came over her whenever she saw them.
"I may love them dearly, Mister Beorn, but I've been on the road with them for months." She sniffed primly. "Some time apart will benefit all parties involved in the long term."
He let out one of his rumbling laughs- it was a pleasant sound, one that had been becoming more frequent with each passing day- and nodded in easy agreement.
"A well-made point, little badger." He grinned. "How goes your task with crafting?"
"It goes." The hobbit sighed, looking down at her work. "It will be easier once I've finished these breeches. I can only imagine what dear Lobelia would think of me, seeing a Hobbit lass wearing pants."
The thought cheered her immensely. Perhaps once all of this was over, she'd go traipsing up to Lobelia's smial in breeches and her elven tunic just to get the absolutely horrified expression she knew would cross the other woman's face.
Hobbits were made well familiar with the domestics of the home early on, the women of the house often taking on crafting in several forms to pass along down the family tree. Bilba could knit and crochet, but she was also well versed in sewing. Even more now than as a faunt; who would have thought that adventuring would require so much bloody sewing?
"I do not know what a Lobelia is. Is it a hedgehog like your prickly dwarf?"
Bilba couldn't help the startled snort of a giggle that left her at the adorably baffled expression Beorn donned on his features. There was quite a bit to unpack in such a short sentence, but the biggest was how casually Beorn referred to Nori as her dwarf. Never mind the hedgehog reference that accompanied it.
"No, Lobelia would be more a skunk or a slug." The hobbit replied after some thoughtful consideration. "Always rather unpleasant, that woman. Oh, but that wasn't what you came out here looking for. Is there something you needed, Mister Beorn?"
"Your dwarves are looking for you. I was told it was an important matter." There was a glint in the skin changer's eye that suggested he knew more about it than that, but Bilba had a feeling she wouldn't be getting any information out of him no matter what tactics she might use.
"At this rate I'll have to stick with my terribly improper skirts and forget the breeches." She complained, slipping the needle into a knot of fabric, folding the leathers over one another to prevent it from falling out. "I don't suppose it was anything that could wait, either."
"No."
"Of course not. That would make it too easy."
That earned her another chuckle as she clambered back to her feet, shaking out the loose grass and pollen that had come with her before looking up at the skin changer expectantly.
Beorn looked like he was tempted to gather the hobbit into his arms, but after the last- very polite, mind- scolding that Hobbits rather did not enjoy being away from the earth; as well as Bilba's more recent traumatic event involving cliffs and heights, he seemed to have come to terms with the idea that the "little badger" would not be off the ground unless directly asked.
There was an unspoken "or else" involved, but she was fairly certain the threat only amused Beorn.
Instead, the tall Man lumbered as slowly as he could without leaving Bilba trying desperately to catch up, weaving his way familiarly through the maze of thick, healthy plants. The rhododendrons were particularly vibrant, flourishing under the conditions that the valley surrounding them provided.
It was a long walk, longer than Bilba had expected to find.
She'd spent quite a bit of time wandering the garden during the day, recognizing some of the paths she'd tread, but Beorn wove through other hidden places until they came to an opening in the shrubbery. A clearing with a small pond and what appeared to be an old well opening, the top of it boarded and several of the stones missing from its sides.
And every dwarrow of the company were present.
Oh, there was no way that this would end well.
What was easy to note, however, was the lack of the heavy armor she'd come to know each dwarf by. Instead, they were clad only in their thick tunics, breeches and boots.
Well, not every dwarf.
The most notable group were comprised of Thorin, Dwalin and his nephews, as well as Bilba's own trio of dwarves. The seven of them were a step forward from the other dwarrow, every eye on her as Beorn stepped out of the way with a rumble in his throat.
Warily, Bilba set down her leathers, venturing further into the clearing and glancing in Thorin's direction as she went. She had a sneaking suspicion this had to do with her suggestion of sorting things out- offering a branch of peace to the House of Ri without stepping on any more toes than necessary.
But why did it have to be something that was going to be so unnecessarily dramatic?
"Bilba Baggins, Hobbit of the Shire." Thorin intoned, features solemn save for a faintly amused gleam in his eye. "Your actions of service to the Line of Durin has forged a life-debt to be paid. One thatyou're your status of outsider, we are unable to fulfill to the fullest terms of our people."
Because this was her life, that was why.
"We of the Line of Durin invoke the right of trials; a rite of kinship to satisfy the debt we, and the dwarrow of Durin's Folk, now owe to you for your valor." Balin continued, the scholarly dwarf taking a step forward. "To have a House within our race take in one who does not share our blood nor our customs is unprecedented. But, as certain parties have pointed out… there are firsts for everything."
And that was definitely a small smirk on Balin's features as he glanced pointedly to Thorin. "To satisfy this debt, we have decided to offer a gift few would ever be given before. The gift of kinship and acceptance of a petition for adoption."
Formality or not, the amount of stiff wording was almost enough to make Bilba roll her eyes, even as she realized where this topic of conversation was headed.
"To formally accept one as a member to the House of Ri, you and your claimed kinsmen must present and prove your worth to the Line of Durin. To those willing to petition for you, your House must prove protection and providence. As many of those present will attest, the House of Ri have already done so in providing a home in Ered Luin and offering shelter from those who might do you harm."
Here, Balin paused, offering some complicated hand gesture and a half bow of sorts to the direction of the trio of Bilba's dwarrow. Likely something ceremonial or equally important- everything about this situation screamed that it was not usually performed out in open air such as this. It seemed more suited to being surrounded in a training field or a grand hall.
"In return, the prospective member of the House must prove their suitability to the line of Ri. Many here have already claimed and vouched that you have already done so in your actions thus far in our quest, deeming you worthy to your claim to the House of Ri. Therefore, the trial remaining in this claim is to be trial by the Line of Durin, in the preferred manner of close combat."
Balin offered a simple twist of his fingers and inclination of his head in Bilba's direction as he completed his statement. The announcement didn't evoke any visible reactions from the rest of the dwarrow- or skin changer- present. It wasn't hard to put two and two together and realize that this was probably what Beorn and Thorin had been plotting about, not to mention the likely reason it had been so quiet amongst their company.
"Do you, Dori, Nori, Ori, sons of the House of Ri, accept this trial? To fight for the daughter of Ri you have taken into your House?"
"Aye. We accept." Nori scowled. He and Dwalin appeared to be in the middle of a staredown that didn't bode well for the near future; Bilba silently hoped that this wouldn't end in a bloodbath before they made it near Erebor.
"And do you, Bilba Baggins, Hobbit of the Shire, agree to stand alongside your House? To prove your worth to the delegates of the Line of Durin?"
"I have my reservations, but yes. I do." The hobbit agreed, pulling her hair into a tail. With the shorter length, it was easier for it to get in her eyes if she wasn't careful. If they wanted her to be tussling with dwarves, she'd try her best to be as prepared as possible for whatever scenario played out.
"Very well. With the company of Thorin Oakenshield as witnesses, the trial is set. Your matches are to be determined by the Line of Durin themselves." Balin said firmly, nodding to Thorin as he took a step back into place next to Oin.
"Fili and Kili, sons of Dis and heirs to Erebor, claim Ori and Nori of the House of Ri to test in combat." Fili cleared his throat, side-eying Dwalin out of the corner of his eye. The guardsman looked displeased by the announcement- then again, so did Nori. Bilba thought she might have heard her dwarf growl as he rolled up his sleeves. "As are our ways, we have chosen the method of our trial. The only weapons permitted are the ones that have been hidden here by kin."
"Which is totally unfair." Kili muttered. Judging by the look the younger dwarf had on his face, he knew it wasn't going to be a fair fight. Fili had weapons hidden on his person that Bilba couldn't even begin to name- she'd watched him strip them off of himself and clean them the day before. She knew how many there were.
But Nori…
Well, Fili's cache might be extensive, but it was nothing compared to the thief's. The hobbit was almost certain that he could simply make a weapon out of anything if he put his mind to it. It was the only thing that could explain the sheer amount of small, pointy objects that Bilba knew he collected.
"Dwalin, son of Fundin, son of Durin's Folk challenges you, Mistress Hobbit." The younger of the sons of Fundin growled in his usual low voice. "As you petition for the House of Ri, you will fight without the aid of your weapons."
Lovely. Not only was she about to get roped into a serious, very rare dwarven custom, but she had to go against Dwalin without a weapon in her hands and prove that she was worthy to be formally accepted into the House of Ri. Dwalin wasn't… hostile, per say, not really; but certainly, he had chosen the side of his prince more than Bilba's for the entirety of the journey thus far.
Still, she nodded, letting out a shaky breath as she tried to mentally prepare herself for whatever was going to come next. With Nori and Ori against Fili and Kili, and Dwalin facing off with her… that meant-
"Dori, son of Ri, your opponent… will be me." Thorin said, as solemn as he could be considering he and Dori looked like they were about to launch into a full out brawl. "Our trial will be completed without the aid of weapons."
No, that wasn't right. Dori and Thorin looked more like they were two lovestruck fools about to brawl for the hand of a lass- she'd seen it happen once or twice in her youth. Highly entertaining to watch; especially when a lass two lads had their eye on ended up leaving a trail of broken hearts behind her when she eloped with another lass. It had been the talk of the Shire for weeks.
Hold on a moment. Did Thorin say no weapons?
Did he not know that Dori was one of the strongest, if not the strongest dwarrow in Ered Luin?
Not for the first time, the hobbit had to wonder if Thorin was really so obtuse or if he genuinely didn't know these things about his people. Then again, this was the same dwarf who was so deeply emotionally constipated he could barely talk to his nephews, let alone another member of the company.
Regardless, considering Thorin was public enemy number one in Dori's eyes at the moment, Bilba didn't hold much faith in the stubborn princeling's abilities in winning a wrestling match against the eldest son of Ri.
If this was any other moment in time, Bilba would have called it off in favor of watching both dwarrow take their pride down a peg.
"The trial will finish once all parties have yielded or their abilities determined and accepted." Balin said from the sidelines once it became clear no one else was going to say anything. "Begin."
Bilba ducked on instinct, eyes narrowed at Dwalin as she tried to quell her nerves. In her peripheral, she saw and heard Thorin and Dori as they collided, and already heard some measure of panic from whom the hobbit assumed to be Kili as Nori led the charge.
Honestly, what a good game of conkers wouldn't solve between them.
She wasn't the most experienced in a fight, but Bilba knew enough that she thought she stood a chance. Never mind that she knew Dwalin was skilled- enough that even Nori was reluctantly complimentary from time to time about the other dwarf. If the hobbit had even a sliver of doubt in herself, she had no qualms about knowing what possibilities awaited her.
Case in point, the axe being swung around her skull.
"Don't think ye'll be getting out of this with yer fancy footwork, Lass." Dwalin grunted, spinning his axe in his hand with practiced familiarity. His eyes watched the hobbit sharply as Bilba rolled her shoulder, testing how much she'd be able to get away with.
"I certainly don't think so." She retorted. "In another world it would be a nice thought, though."
The image of the dwarves defeated by Hobbitish dance footwork came unbidden to her mind. Despite herself, she snorted, ducking again and jabbing sharply with her fists, flinching at the graze of an axe along the top of her ear. Dwalin grunted as her knuckles dug into the side of his knee, righting himself with a growl instead of stumbling as she'd hoped.
It wasn't the best of signs in her favor. Now that she was up close and personal with dwarven fighting styles, Bilba could tell that despite Dwalin's size, he moved with a grace that she wouldn't have thought possible.
Still more to learn about her company, it seemed.
He kicked her legs out from underneath her, sending Bilba to the ground with a grunt of air leaving her lungs. Had she been wearing breeches rather than skirts, perhaps she would have been able to move about more easily. Instead, she found herself playing a game of keep-away, attempting to come up with an idea that didn't involve her getting sliced open.
If only he didn't have his blasted axe, she might stand more of a chance! Especially if she managed to get a hold of one of the weapons that were apparently hidden about in the grass. Given the length of it, it probably wasn't hard to hide the silly things; just drop them and shift the grass to shield it from view, and it was unlikely anyone but those who had put them there would be able to tell where they were.
And, as it was, they'd never said she couldn't use a weapon at all.
Her Hobbit swiftness prevented her from losing any more hair, managing to get in close enough to land several light hits to Dwalin's more vulnerable points. Not for lack of effort; she just didn't have the strength to make a difference with how solidly dwarrow were built.
Grunting, her back hit the ground as the guard kicked out her bad leg from underneath her. No sooner had she landed that she rolled out of the way of a heavy axe handle coming down where her chest would have been a second earlier.
Fine.
They wanted her to fight?
Well, she would certainly be fighting- to the standard of any self-respecting Hobbit who'd gotten caught in a brawl.
Grabbing a fistful of grass, she threw it up into Dwalin's face, taking the opportunity to tackle him at the knees. Any success she might have felt vanished as he backhanded her on the way down, thick forearm catching her in the stomach and knocking the wind out of her.
Nearby, Kili let out a nervous laugh as Nori slipped through his defenses to pin an arm to the grass with one of Fili's own knives, turning his attention back to aforementioned dwarf as he went to Ori's aid.
The youngest son of Ri was holding up admirably well considering that he had yet to grow into the same strength he shared with Dori, boxing with Fili and yipping in alarm as he was forced to throw himself out of the way of one of Fili's swords.
Nori had handed off one of his shorter blades he'd come across in the grass, which was effective for as long as Ori had managed to wield it. Unfortunately, his younger brother wasn't as well versed in close range knife fighting as Nori was, and was easily disarmed by the elder prince.
Their match-up was pretty unfairly stacked against them from the start; all of them save perhaps Ori knew it. Not only was Nori older than both of the princes, but he also had zero qualms about fighting dirty, leaving sharp, bruising welts with the flat of his blades as he went.
They'd be yielding to the ginger haired dwarf. One way or the other.
He grabbed Ori by the scruff and tossed him over in Kili's direction. He knew Kili had a soft spot for Ori, being as they were about the same age and had befriended one another not long into their quest. Fili, on the other hand, as did many of Durin's line, didn't hold the thief in terribly high regard. It meant that he and Nori were a little bit rougher as Nori went in for a shot to the throat.
Ori, on the other hand, was proving to be just as fierce as his older brothers as he managed to box Kili's ears with a force the dark-haired dwarf hadn't received outside of his own kin. Namely his mother, but that was neither here nor there as he stumbled back, dazed. Ori followed, apologetic but unwavering as he swept Kili's feet out from underneath him and pressed Nori's knife against his windpipe.
Wriggling for a moment, Kili sighed, tapping the back of Ori's arm as he finally yielded. Never mind his pride as a Durin; he wanted to make it out of the experience with all of his limbs intact, thank you very much.
(At a much lesser scale, he couldn't help but notice that the other trio of pairs were proving to be much more entertaining to watch.)
Nori managed to get a grip on Fili's arm, rolling his weight forward and throwing the blond prince to the ground with a sound that had Kili wincing in sympathy.
Unlike his brother, however, Fili wasn't as easy to keep down- he'd managed to pick up a couple more weapons along the way and was in the middle of some kind of match of wills before Nori managed to get a hold of his hand and twist Fili's own knife against his jugular. Judging from the angle the blade was at, any further movement would slice open Fili's throat, and Fili knew it.
He yielded a moment later.
Which left Dori, Thorin, Dwalin and Bilba.
Dori was beginning to gain ground against Thorin, his intricately braided hair mussed as he and the crown prince grappled for the upper hand. Both of their jaws were set, grunts the only sound they made as they butted against one another like mountain goats, heels dug into the ground.
Bilba and Dwalin…
Well, that wasn't going quite as well. Bilba was quick, but she also had a couple of glaringly obvious weaknesses the guardsman was taking full advantage of as the Hobbit led him on a merry chase around in the grass. Dwalin looked more disgruntled than usual; almost to his usual levels of disgust when it came to dealing with Nori.
He couldn't help but be impressed by that little nugget.
Bilba was scrappy, too. It wasn't something he would have necessarily pegged the hobbit lass for; Nori knew she preferred to verbally eviscerate whoever was stupid enough to get caught in the crossfire.
But they weren't in a situation where that was a viable option; what they were in was apparently a perfect demonstration of what a cheeky little goblin a Hobbit could be when given the opportunity.
No one would be able to fault her- an axe wielder was quite difficult to fight on the best of terms, let alone when one was unarmed. In fact, one could argue that the only option left was to do exactly as their Hobbit was doing now- getting in close and leaving a couple of hits before dodging out of the way as Dwalin lumbered after her like an angry bear.
He slipped into the fray without a second thought. Leave Ori to make sure Thorin's nephews wouldn't be getting into any more trouble. He had a Hobbit to bail out and a guardsman to keep busy.
Bilba squawked as she tripped backward over the lip of the well, the axe biting into the wood underneath her before the Hobbit managed to put it between herself and the large dwarf after her. Her chest heaved as she tried to get in a good breath of air, lamenting the fact that she didn't actually want to hurt Dwalin.
It was one thing to go after an orc threatening one of her dwarrow. It was another thing when it was one of her dwarrow threatening her.
She was really going to have to ask Nori about learning to fight with her knives rather than just throwing them at things once this was all over.
Except Nori was behind Dwalin, tapping him on the shoulder with an all too cheerful whistle before ducking underneath the automatic elbow that he would have gotten to the face were he perhaps any other dwarf. It gave Bilba enough time to grab a wayward stick that would make a lovely club and an even better weapon for current circumstances.
(Ever since the loss of her walking staff, she'd missed the sensation of having some measure of protection easily within reach. It was also a fantastic way of tripping up meddling wizards when they weren't looking.)
Twirling it with practice, the hobbit allowed herself a bright grin as she met Nori's gaze.
It was surprisingly easy to fall into a rhythm with her dwarf after that, though Bilba realized quickly that Nori was playing a support role more than he was actively trying to murder Dwalin.
The same could not be said for Dwalin.
Bilba would have loved to have her slingshot or conkers, but a makeshift walking stick would do just as well for what she needed. With speed that came with years of boredom and her Tookish family teaching her all the methods of keeping misbehaving faunts in line, the Hobbit wielded the stick ruthlessly. Shins, toes, ankles and hands weren't safe from the lass- even after Nori made himself scarce from the fight to join Thorin's nephews and Ori on the sidelines.
Let's be honest, it was far more entertaining to watch from a distance.
Dwalin didn't quite know what to do about this new development, either. It led to dropping the axe in favor of using his fists only, determination written across every inch of his features as he charged Bilba.
She was tired.
She was sore.
And she was not going to be taking any more nonsense from this "trial".
She swung her makeshift weapon with the ferocity of a cornered animal.
Blood welled up from the cheek she'd managed to land the hit on; stunned silence on all sides met her as she dropped the stick and grabbed Dwalin's face in her hands, examining the wound with a sound of distress.
"Oh, I'm so sorry Master Dwalin, I don't know what came over me-" Bilba fretted, twisting his face to get a better look at the damage. His shoulders shook underneath her careful touches; rather than the angry retaliation, the hobbit realized the dwarf was laughing at her.
"I yield." The dwarf finally managed to get out, snorting as he gently pushed Bilba's hands out of the way.
"What?" Bilba was sure she had heard him wrong. She'd just managed to whack him upside the head with a stick! Given the circumstances-
Oh. She supposed she'd done exactly what she was supposed to do, then.
"I find ye acceptable to your claim. I'm impressed." Dwalin continued with a snort of a laugh escaping him. "Dwarrow are hewn of stone, but ye managed to surprise me."
"Now it's just up to the two stubborn fools." Nori sighed, more than a little petulant as he reappeared next to Bilba. "We'll probably be here a while longer. Once Dori's like this there's no budging him."
"It's less a battle of strength at this point anyway." Bilba agreed, crossing her arms.
There were furrows in the dirt where the pair had been pushing back and forth like discontent sheep. Currently, they had firm grasps on the other's hands, foreheads pressed together as they continued their almost-wrestling match. A sheen of sweat covered the both of them as their arms shook, stubborn determination written all over the both of them.
Thorin waivered ever so slightly, Dori growling as he pushed forward in an attempt to unbalance the other dwarf.
Bilba chanced a look in Beorn's direction- the Man had been quiet the entire time thus far, and the hobbit couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of concern about it. Evidently her worry was for naught; the skin changer was sitting cross legged next to Bifur and watching the events with a combination of intrigue and alarm.
She could see how this could be something to be alarmed over.
Realistically, the hobbit knew that there could be a great potential for the standoff to go well into the day. Dori was about as immovable as a mountain when he locked onto something, and Thorin had already proven on several occasions to be as hard-headed as a mule. In more ways than one.
Dori shifted, weight pushing forward and succeeding in unbalancing Thorin. The crown prince grunted as he fell back on his foot, twisting before sighing and dropping his hands in a sign of peace.
"I recognize your skill as Head of the House of Ri." The dark-haired dwarf relented. "You have fought well for your House. Kili, Fili?"
"We approve the petitioning House." Kili straightened, wincing as he tweaked a sore spot.
"Dwalin?"
"I approve the skill of the lass as a member of Durin's line." The guardsman nodded, crossing his arms over his chest with a faintly pleased expression still on his features. "She'll fit in just fine with this House."
"As the crown prince of Erebor, I accept the House of Ri's claim to the Hobbit known as Bilba Baggins. She has proven her worth to us in spirit and in trials beyond what any present would ask, going so far as to aid Durin's Folk and charge Azog the Defiler." Thorin drew himself up to his full height. Despite the sweat and dirt on his brow, he was still an admittedly attractive dwarrow.
It was a tad distracting, if she were being honest.
"Bilba, step forward." Thorin continued, turning an amused stare to the bemused hobbit. "As I speak, know this- you are a daughter of the House of Ri. You will fall under their protection; as a member of their House, you will be protected by any House you see before you this day."
Balin handed him something that Bilba couldn't see, stepping forward and gently making a motion she interpreted to adjust the angle of her face. His calloused fingers swiftly pulled free a stretch of curls, carding through it before weaving in an unfamiliar plait and clasping a small metal bead at the end.
"By this braid, I accept you as one of the House of Ri, and a member of Durin's Folk. Let the records show Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thor fair in his judgement and hopeful to a new era of peace in the next Age."
"This is the part where ye bow, lass." Someone whispered behind her.
She wasn't so sure about bowing, but a curtsey she could manage, twisting herself into a complicated ladies curtsey she'd learned from her father.
That done, she rose and met Thorin's gaze full on, lifting a brow slowly.
"You just couldn't help yourself, could you?" she accused him quietly, resisting to give in to the smile that wanted to twist her lips.
"I solved a problem." He replied innocently. "Welcome Bilba Baggins, daughter of Ri."
The words triggered the raucous joy she knew and loved from her company, the group clustering around her to formally welcome the hobbit as one of their official number. Beorn applauded, looking suspiciously teary eyed as he kept his distance. Someone clapped her on the back, Kili and Fili chattering too quickly for her to catch as she registered Nori's presence next to her.
"Welcome to the family, sweets." He grinned easily, hand slipping into hers with ease. She laughed, giving him a pointedly fond look as she was wrangled into a half-shouted conversation with Oin, who was trying- and failing- to wade through the excited throng.
Family. It had been a while since she'd quite felt so loved.
She could get used to this.