WAIT!
HAVE YOU READ CHAPTER 31? OR 19-30? IF NOT, READ THOSE FIRST! I'VE BEEN UPDATING VERY QUICKLY IN A SHORT PERIOD OF TIME.
If I haven't said it recently, I'd like to say it again. You guys are truly the sweetest and leave me the kindest, loveliest reviews. You're the ones who inspire me to continue to write this fic, and I hope I give it the honor it deserves!
ALSO:
I will be returning to work this week, which means I may be delayed (further than usual) in writing and posting until I am able to sort out a proper schedule. Please bear with me! I promise I won't disappear on you again without some kind of warning.
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, Nori/Bilba.
-;-
It took all of one day before Dwalin decided to attempt to declare that their Hobbit needed to be able to defend herself. Apparently the guardsman was so impressed by the Hobbit's skill in slipping past his defenses that he was determined to train her personally; something that was considered a high honor, according to Fili and Kili.
A lot to unpack in that statement; namely the fact that Dwalin had, in fact, used those exact words. Considering his stance with her role in the company- paired with the very few times that they'd actually spoken more than a handle of words at a time; it was more than a tad unnerving.
(Not that Bilba hadn't been able to defend herself in prior instances; most notably being Azog- but there was only so far one could get in a perilous, lifechanging quest to claim a mountain from a dragon. And there were still the orcs to consider as well, though they appeared to have been held at bay by Beorn's presence among other things.)
The only- and most significant bit of that statement- was that Nori had decided at approximately the same time that he was going to be the one to teach Bilba close combat. Specifically training with her daggers, since she already had a strong foundation to build on.
It went without saying that confrontation had been interesting, to say the least.
Unfortunately, given Nori's particular brand of protectiveness- combined with his lack of a stellar relationship with Dwalin; the ginger-haired dwarf was entirely invested in ensuring Bilba spent as little time as possible in the guard's presence.
By any means necessary.
Bilba really needed to actually start asking some of the questions she had about the pair's complicated relationship to Balin. If 'relationship' was even the word to be used in the context. Something told her a great deal of animosity toward the other stemmed from something Bilba had yet to figure out.
Once the literal and proverbial dust settled; an exchange that ended following a chase around Beorn's property with Nori somehow on the Man's roof- they came to a compromise of some degree in which they both got something they wanted.
Currently, that arrangement included Nori standing next to Bilba and coaching the Hobbit how to avoid Dwalin's slow demonstrations of axe-wielding.
She wasn't allowed to have one of her actual weapons in hand; the way Dwalin had put it made the statement sound both complimentary and insulting at once. Instead, the hobbit fashioned a baton of sorts out of another trusty tree branch- a mistake in its own right, considering she could be rather ruthless with one of those, too- and was using it to learn the correct posture for her "letter opener of a sword".
There was a rather concerning tick developing above the guard's left eye, though.
It didn't go unnoticed by the small group that their activities had attracted; Bofur leaned in toward Fili, shielding his words with a hand to prevent the burlier dwarf from overhearing.
"Should we be worried about that?"
The blond dwarf glanced up from the knife he was polishing, squinting at the scene before shrugging.
"Not yet." He tilted the knife to catch the light, examining the surface for a long moment. "Then again, he and Nori do hate each other."
Being an heir to a throne just out of reach, Fili had been trained by the guard since he'd become old enough to hold his first weapon. Considering the number of years he'd spent in his company since then, the blond haired prince was the only one in current company who could accurately gauge Dwalin's temper.
Considering his face hadn't mottled in rage yet and the axe in his hands hadn't been thrown at anything, he could say they still had a half hour or so before he was likely to make a move to behead Nori.
"True. Bilba will stop it before it gets too bloody." Ori nodded in agreement, sage. He barely glanced up from his journal, dipping his quill in his ink before continuing to scrawl out thin lines of neat notes. He paused. "Hobbits are very good at that. Or maybe it's just Bilba?"
"Are you three quite done?" Bilba sighed, stomping her foot and turning to give their audience a deadpan look. While she could enjoy a bit of jest; hello, case in point, Hobbit pettiness- the amount of muttering and laughter was beginning to grind on a nerve she didn't know was possible.
"Sorry, Bilba." Ori replied immediately, contrite. The Hobbit's expression softened toward the youngest son of Ri, earning a coughed "favoritism" from Fili and an amused snort from Bofur.
A small pebble hit the prince dead on in the forehead, the blond-haired dwarrow squawking in surprise as he toppled backward.
"Nice aim." Dwalin praised, brow raised in reluctant compliment.
"Thank you." Bilba said serenely, smoothing out her shorter skirts smugly. She'd finally managed to find some time to finish her breeches, pleased to find that though her skirts were shorter than appropriate to a Hobbit, they were more than enough to satisfy her own personal taste.
And the pockets. She'd sewn enough of them to hide the majority of her smaller belongings still in her possession. It pleased some deep part of her inner Took- as well as the habits her mother had instilled deeply into her psyche as a faunt.
It was hard to deny Tooks were magpies at heart.
They returned back to their mock training session, the hobbit lass finally calling it when Nori bared his teeth at Dwalin and snarled something in Khuzdul that sounded distinctly threatening. Dwalin returned the favor in full, grip tightening on his axe handle.
No sooner had they shifted their weight on their feet than a sharp rap to the shins via her faux baton of a tree branch snapped them right back out of it. The Hobbit growled something right back at them in Hobbitish before pointing a finger in both of their direction, gaze flinty.
The sound that left the scribe wasn't a giggle, but it was a close thing as he smothered his laughter into an arm, head bowed over his journal.
-;-
Gandalf returned once again from his wanderings, and with him he brought his questions.
Quite frankly, Bilba thought him to be a bit mad, regardless of being a messenger of the Valar. Even in the context of serving a higher cause, Bilba found it difficult to see past the meddling old Man she had come to know over the last several months.
He might have known Belladonna while her mother were still alive, but it certainly did not mean that he knew anything about her daughter nor held any sort of claim over Bilba because of his friendship with her mother.
It started after his return; when he saw the openly displayed braids lying in Bilba's copper curls. The wizard's features had turned thoughtful before requesting a private word with the hobbit.
One word would not nearly be enough for all of the things she wanted to say to the meddling bastard, but she accepted his invitation to sit with him in the gardens nonetheless.
(She had a sneaking suspicion Nori was hovering around somewhere nearby. Her dwarf was more protective of his kin than an eagle over its hatchlings.)
"I see you finally decided to grace us with your presence, Gandalf." The Hobbit drawled, lighting up her newly carved pipe. It was a gift from Bofur; newly crafted and supplied by Beorn's personal blend of pipeweed. She reclined into the sun-warmed wood of the bench they'd taken refuge upon, one arm tucked under the other, legs crossed neatly at the ankles. "You've been scarce as of late."
"There are a great deal of dark things stirring in the world, I'm afraid." The Man hummed in return, appearing in relatively good spirits despite the solemnity of his words. "I see well wishes are in order for your acceptance into your House."
"Hm. Yes. Indeed." She said shortly, blinking lazily in the wizard's direction before exhaling a perfect smoke ring into the sunlight air. "Not that you would know anything about it, considering your meddling."
He snorted, lighting his own pipe with a thoughtfulness that was betrayed by his equally thoughtful look he shot in her direction. He could see the changes the quest thus far had wrought within her; though he was surprised to note that said changes were not the ones he had been expecting.
Nor, he would even more reluctantly admit, was the Hobbit seated next to him at all what he had initially expected.
Perhaps it was, in part, due to the unfortunate circumstances of standing beyond the traditional cradle of time that most other races found themselves. Things he swore he had known only a matter of years ago had in reality been nearly an Age prior. Cultivating friendships amongst himself and those he felt a pull toward was something he did wholly on his own instincts.
(That, and the flicker of power from the elven ring tucked away in a pocket no one was aware of in his robes.)
One such pull had been toward Bilba's mother. Belladonna Took was one he had befriended easily, if not doggedly. Her spirited nature in comparison to most of her kin had been refreshing to witness during his travels through the Shire; drawing him in with the fire that had burned in her so very brightly.
In part, it reminded him of the Harfoots- interesting folk. He'd met them once, during a crossing through the Misty Mountains. They were the first Hobbits to have travelled so far from their homeland, seeking fortunes elsewhere.
The Tooks rather encouraged Belladonna to do as she pleased in regard to the wizard, though always with a cautionary tale. For Gandalf was rather known, after all, for seeing out those who later became involved in matters much greater than a single one of them. Many of those whom had travelled with him did not return; especially if they were Hobbits.
Those who had decided to seek fortune elsewhere were better off.
"You know, I had quite anticipated a very different Hobbit than the one who sits next to me now." The wizard mused, puffing idly on his pipe.
"Oh, that was made abundantly clear when I agreed to go on this quest without questions." Bilba drawled. "Or were you perhaps referring to the fact I was not taken off guard by your presence, nor the dwarrow you so rudely deposited on my doorstep without so much as a by your leave?"
She paused in her rambling for a moment, turning her attention to Gandalf to lift a brow, features carefully neutral.
"It isn't terribly often one finds themselves preferring the company of dwarrow to that of a wizard, you know."
"No. It is not." He agreed, shifting his weight and idly puffing his pipe. "Despite it all, it has been oddly refreshing."
"You would say that, blasted old codger." She shook her head. Irritation buzzed beneath her skin, but in the grander scheme of things, it hardly mattered. Most of the indignant rage and smug pride at catching him off guard those months had long since simmered to coals.
Still, Gandalf had a way with words that stirred them back up into crackling flame.
"I know you don't think too highly of me, Mistress Baggins." He said, suddenly looking many years older. "And while I desire nothing more than to make promises of happy endings on this journey, I fear there is still a great deal yet to come."
"I know." She replied tiredly.
The ever-growing sense of dread was beginning to return, a hidden weight on her shoulders she feared would manifest itself once the company left the safety and shelter of Beorn's home.
She felt far too old, suddenly.
"It is not so much I dislike you as it is I dislike your methods, you know." She continued once it became clear the wizard was not in the mood to continue the conversation on his own. "I always remembered the travelling wizard with the wondrous fireworks as a faunt. Now, I realize I rather preferred that vision."
"As did I." he tilted his head to one side, considering it. "It was certainly easier."
"You don't plan on journeying with us much further, do you?" the hobbit finally voiced. "You say there are darker things stirring in Middle Earth."
"I plan on escorting the company to Mirkwood." Gandalf said. "But no, I will not be journeying with you for quite some time."
"Were you planning on going to Erebor at all?" she asked, curious despite herself as she gestured to the horizon. "Or-"
"You have been meddling in matters that should not have been touched, Olorin."
Bilba blinked, feeling as though heat was swelling in her chest- a heat that nearly choked her as a haze drifted over her thoughts, tongue moving of its own accord.
Grey eyes flicked to the hobbit immediately, sharp as he mouthed the end of his pipe. "And to whom do I owe the honor of speaking?"
"You would do well to remember your place in the Song. You are beginning to ripple fabrics that which should not be tampered."
"My lady Vaire." The wizard bowed his head.
"I am not the only one who notices your schemes, Olorin." Bilba's voice spoke again. "You may be favored, but not even you can change what is meant to be. Consider this a warning."
As swiftly as the sensation had come, Bilba blinked again to find herself being considered thoughtfully by one grey-clad wizard and no memory of what she'd been saying.
"I do think I've lost my train of thought." She frowned, squinting suspiciously up at him. "Confusticate you blasted folk, I'm going to be silver-haired and out of my mind by the time we make it to Erebor."
He was still looking at her oddly.
"Is there something on my face?" the hobbit asked, brows furrowing.
"No. No, it is nothing, my dear Bilba." The wizard said. "I am merely astounded that even after so many years upon this earth, it is the smallest things that surprise me."
"Hobbits are half of nothing." She grumbled, narrowing her eyes in his direction. "Perhaps it is merely time for the rest of you tall folk to realize the same."
"Indeed." He considered. "My dear, do pardon me. You have given me a great deal to ponder."
"You should tell Thorin you don't plan on following us into the forest." The hobbit said idly, returning to looking out over the garden as the wizard extinguished his pipe with something that sounded like a sad sigh. "The last thing any of us needs is another blood feud on our hands."
Gandalf didn't reply; not that Bilba terribly expected him to. He pulled himself upright with a motion that suggested he was nothing more but a harmless old Man, adjusting his robes before wandering off toward the house.
The feeling of dread remained.
-;-
The rest of their time passed briefly, if uneventfully, in Beorn's halls. All too soon, it came time to bid their host good-bye and continue on their quest east. It had been a month or so of peaceful rest; no worry of constantly checking over their shoulders for Azog astride his warg, no fears as to what other creatures might crawl out of the shadows.
Bilba was quite despondent as the dwarrow packed their ponies with provisions and newly crafted packs; the painted equines would take them as far as the fringes of Mirkwood before they would part ways. There was something wrong with the forest, Beorn had warned. He would not allow his friends to go where he would not be able to protect them.
The hobbit didn't terribly want to think about what it meant for them, that they were willing to travel through such a place.
Gandalf watched the proceedings with some amusement, as he always did. Fili and Kili were bickering good-naturedly as they claimed their ponies, pushing and shoving at one another in the way Bilba had become well accustomed to over the months, fondness in her chest as she watched Ori get pulled into their nonsense.
Ori did well with the pair of princes, despite the things that separated them. He was growing surer of himself by the day, even if the youngest son of Ri didn't seem to be aware of it. Even now, he scowled, ducking out from underneath Kili's attempts to wrangle him between himself and Fili, crossing his arms and glowering at the pair that would have made Dori preen were he paying attention.
Right. Gandalf. She was thinking about how rude it was to be looking so entertained by the events going on when he wasn't even making an effort to pack his own- much taller- horse.
Bilba would love to have at him with a broom, miserable codger. He'd been the one to break the news it was time to move on from Beorn's home- just when Thorin had finally been resting more easily, blast him!
Beorn hovered at the edge of the group, arms crossed over his chest as he made sure nothing happened to the ponies. Not, Bilba thought, because he genuinely believed that they would do anything. He had grown to an understanding with the dwarrow, perhaps even fostered some measure of affection for the rough-around-the-edges company they made.
The skin changer's eyes were suspiciously wet as he crouched to attempt to look Bilba in the eye when it came time for them to depart. Quite honestly, Bilba could not admit that hers hadn't been much the same. She'd grown rather fond of the bear-like Man and the kindness he showed to every living thing in his House.
He carefully rested a massive palm over the top of her head, rumbling a quiet string of words in a language she instinctively knew would have no written record.
"A blessing for the little badger." He said gently, voice like thunder as he offered her a smile.
She grasped his wrist as the skin changer moved to pull back, her hands absolutely tiny in comparison to his as she did her best to curl her fingers around the manacle there. Without fear, she looked at him all too knowingly, flickers of visions past reminding her of what he had been through at the hands of orcs.
"They would be proud of you, Beorn." She said softly. "And I will miss you dearly once we have left this place."
He blinked at her, brows furrowing as he studied her.
"You are wise, little badger." He nodded. "But I must warn you; the woodland in which you travel is sick. Corrupted by some other force. Unnatural. Remember this."
"I will."
Grunting, the skin changer carefully lifted the hobbit onto the back of her pony, offering her one last smile before Thorin called back that they were moving out.
Even as the house grew smaller and smaller, the fields swallowing them as they ventured East, Bilba looked back. She would miss the Man dearly, she knew; her chest was already tight at the loss of the friend they had found.
Nori dropped back to keep her company, features knowing as he glanced over his shoulder too.
"You'll see him again, sweets." He promised. "Even if we have to drag the rest of our idiot family back here once this is all behind us."
"Thank you, Nori." Bilba sniffed, wiping away a stray tear as she righted herself in her saddle. Nori was right- it would not be the last time they saw one another; although with the way things were going, there was a flicker of doubt festering in her heart.
She knew what was coming. Knew that it was great and dark and her dwarrow were at the heart of it.
But it could wait for now. First, they needed to make it through Mirkwood. And oh, if the very thought of the forest didn't strike dread into her.
"Home is behind." She reminded herself with a sigh under her breath. "The world ahead."
It wasn't much, but it was enough of a reminder for the moment.
She straightened in her saddle, refusing to look back again.