An Old Amulet
Chapter Two
Little did I know that I would be accompanying mister Balin to supper, and staying the whole night. He said that I might as well join him, since hobbits were always generous and his host wouldn't mind. After that I could head on home, he said. If I only knew how to get back there. He even mentioned I could more than likely find clothes there that fit me, me being so small. I didn't bring up the fact that I had no idea what a hobbit was, though it sounded familiar. Like something for a distant memory. And I was still too discombobulated to really argue, I just walked along with mister Balin, enjoying his company and talking the time away. He reminded me a bit of my gran, the way he spoke. It was pretty comforting. Distracted me from the fact that I magically appeared wherever it was I was at and had no idea if I'd be able to make it back home.
Eventually, as we walked and talked and I expertly avoided any detailed conversation about myself, night fell and we came to our destination. It was only a few minutes walk, but one I cherished. Balin was good company, company I was glad to keep. We made our way to a top of a hill, atop of several littler hills, until we came to a stop outside of a wonderfully ornate door against a hillside. A door into a little hole. A hobbit hole that belonged to a Mr Baggins, apparently. Yet another familiar thing, like a little itch at the back of my mind. It would bother me for days. But as the door opened slowly, I pushed those thoughts aside and smiled graciously at the small man in front of us. A small man with pointed ears and tawny hair.
Balin bowed beside me, introducing himself. "Balin."
"Bronwyn." I said, bowing myself.
"At your service." We both offered, giving each other a bit of a smile as we stood up straight again.
"Good evening." Our host replied, looking a bit overwhelmed, for whatever reason.
Balin nodded, agreeing with him. "Yes, yes it is. Though I think it might rain later."
"Good evening to you too, Mr Baggins, I hope you don't mind me sticking around with Balin." I smiled, hoping that I'd be permitted to stay, not that he gave me any inclination whether or not I was allowed. So I just assumed I'd been given the green-light.
We stepped into the entryway, and I took a moment to observe my new surroundings. A hobbit hole. And by gracious, it was a lovely little home. When I heard "hole", I hadn't expected what I saw. I hadn't expected anything close to its splendor. A beautiful little hole, not dank, not dirty, not musty or smelly, not anything like any hole I had ever seen. I didn't even register what Balin was saying to Mr Baggins, I was too busy admiring the craftsmanship of that splendid little home. And I figured the less I spoke, the better. Because then it would be painstakingly obvious to everyone around that I wasn't in Kansas anymore.
Still, I couldn't get enough of the woodwork. It was, in a word, breathtaking. Walls and ceiling, all in the shape of a tunnel, rounded perfectly, several rooms arranged logically and expertly, every inch decorated with something beautiful, every detail attended to, nothing was overlooked. An old home, but built to last. A home nestled wonderfully in a small hill. A hole, but not like a hole at all. A place to live for decades to come. A place I could only have dreamed of. A place I wanted to build with my own two hands.
"Oh, ha ha!" Balin laughed loudly, bringing me out of my stirrings, and advancing towards another man who I hadn't noticed before, cleaning out the inside of a biscuit jar in the kitchen. "Evening brother!"
"By my beard!" The man responded happily. "You are shorter and wider than last we met."
Figuring the two would continue on amicably, I turned to Mr Baggins and attempted to be a polite guest. "You have a wonderful home, Mr Baggins. Simply wonderful."
"Thank you very much…" He returned, though thoroughly distracted by Balin and his brother.
That's when the two took each other by the shoulders and smashed each other's foreheads together. That was only slightly startling. But they laughed, and I knew it was nothing to worry about. I think I recall my grandmother and gran doing the same thing once.
"Uh," our host started, "excuse me; sorry. I hate to interrupt, ah, but the thing is, I'm not entirely sure you're in the right house…"
The two ignored Mr Baggins, making me wonder if we were all that welcome in his house, as I was told. Still, Balin turned towards us with a smile. "Bilbo, is it? Would you mind helping this young lass with finding something to wear?"
"Wh-what?" Bilbo asked, turning towards me confused. "Why-"
"I seemed to have lost all of my clothes while walking about, I'm naked as a wee babe under here." I whispered quietly, if not a bit deviously. Then I looked down and saw Mr Baggins's feet. They were quite hairy, and he wasn't wearing shoes. Interesting. When I looked back up again, he was looking back at me in shock.
His mouth fluttered open and shut. "Y-you mean- you're not- oh my."
"Yeah, it's a long story-"
He grabbed me by the hand suddenly and led me deep into his cozy hole, passing by several different rooms, and at least three pantries. That's when we came to a halt outside of one of his many rooms. He opened the door and gestured inside.
"Take whatever you need, there's plenty there, nothing silk and please don't touch my mother's dressing gowns. I need to get back to the others before they ransack the pantry." He said in a rush before running back from whence he came.
"Will do, Mr Baggins!" I called after him, catching a bit of a wave signaling that he at least heard me.
I chuckled quietly, appreciating the liveliness of my host. That's when I noticed that the entire room, quite simply, was a very large wardrobe. Clothes of every sort lined the walls, more clothes than I'd ever seen outside of Macy's. Whatever a hobbit was, it was an entirely curious creature. Stepping into the closet, I looked through the collections of shirts and pants, trying to find something that would probably fit me. Mr Baggins was slightly shorter than I am, but a bit wider. Meaning that with a belt, almost anything would be my size.
Realizing that I would probably be taking off that cloak and exposing myself to the world, I turned around and quietly shut the door. And then I quickly pulled a shirt off a hanger, and some pants out of a drawer, and I was set. The shirt was a bit Shakespearean, but everyone I'd met talked like they hopped straight out of Hamlet, so it was pretty fitting. And with that done, I walked back out with the cloak on my arm to see Bilbo attempting to lecture Balin and his brother, to which he was failing quite splendidly. They were not listening. Not in the slightest. They seemed to be discussing the state of a piece of cheese they found in the pantry. Deciding not to get in between them all, I moved to hang up Balin's cloak.
As I neared the door, the doorbell rang, and I decided to be a good guest and answer it, saving Mr Baggins from an even worse headache than he already had.
"I've got it, Mr Baggins, you rest easy a moment." I said in his direction before turning back to the door.
Taking the handle, I opened the door wide to see two more men, smaller than what I was accustomed to, still taller than me, but considerably younger than the others. One blonde, one brunette. And both looked a bit like Vikings. As did the others, but I digress.
"Fili." The blonde said with confidence, a devious smile teasing his lips.
"And Kili." The other said, a bit more determined and stern than the other.
"At your service." They both offered, bowing low and standing up straight again.
"At your service." I returned kindly.
The brunette smiled wide, almost like an excited puppy. "You must be Mrs Boggins!"
I laughed quietly. "No, no. Sorry, I'm a guest, just like yourself. You'll find Mr Baggins-"
"Nope, nope!" Bilbo interjected, appearing out of nowhere and grabbing hold of the door. "You can't come in, you've come to the wrong house."
He started to close the door, when Kili caught it and forced it back open again.
"What? Has it been cancelled?" He asked, that excited face quickly turning almost sad, or disappointed, mostly disappointed.
"No one told us." Fili stated, looking puzzled and just a bit bewildered.
Even more confused than Fili, was Bilbo himself. "Can-? No, nothing's been cancelled."
"Well that's a relief!" Kili exclaimed, becoming quite excited once more.
The two pushed their way in, knocking Bilbo back into my arms. I set him up right and Fili approached us, his arms full of- swords, it seemed. Knowing the people I'd find myself in the company of, they were swords. Most definitely.
"Careful with these, we just had 'em sharpened." He explained as he just tossed them into Bilbo's arms.
"Here, let me take a couple." I offered, plucking a few from the pile and moving them elsewhere. I'd handled enough weapons in my life and I wanted to make this whole gathering a bit easier for the poor Mr Baggins. The poor flustered hobbit. Whatever a hobbit was. He was a flustered one for sure.
Fili was still finding things in his boots and his belt to hand to Bilbo when Kili said, "It's nice, this place. Did you do it yourself?"
"Ah, no, it's been in the family for years- that's my mother's glory box can you please not do that?" Bilbo replied, somewhat stern. I turned to see what he was talking about. Kili was rather harshly cleaning the underside of his boot against the edge of some of Bilbo's furniture. Even I had to admit that was a bit rude. Though I'd seen my gran do worse when visiting friends. And even worse when visiting people she didn't like. She isn't allowed back there. Ever.
Then Balin's brother came in from the kitchen, patting Kili on the back. "Fili, Kili, c'mon, give us a hand."
"Mister Dwalin." He said affectionately, following Dwalin into where Balin already was, standing around a large table. Glad I finally learned his name.
"Let's shove this in the hallway." Balin instructed the others. "Otherwise we'll never get everyone in."
That just made me wonder how many more people were planning on showing up. I wasn't quite sure Bilbo was up to the task. He was just shuffling around with the bundle of swords still in his arms, completely unsure of how to go about the handful of strangers roaming about his home, doing as they please. And he definitely didn't know what to do with those swords that were forced on him.
"Ev-everyone?" Bilbo stuttered, clearly flummoxed. "How many more are there?"
"Why do I feel like you didn't arrange this little gathering?" I asked Mr Baggins, who was still looking to the kitchen in shock.
"I didn't! They just showed up without invite and they're practically-"
Then the doorbell rang again, interrupting his train of thought so I just grabbed the swords in Bilbo's hands without even asking to. Good thing I did, because he was about to simply drop them to the floor and on the floor they should not be.
"Oh no. No, no!" He exclaimed, fairly frazzled and more than a little bit irritated. "There's nobody home! Go away, and bother somebody else! There's far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is!" He ranted as he approached the door, my mind only had a brief moment to catch the fact that he called his company "dwarves". "I-i-if this is some clotterd's idea of a joke," he paused to laugh humorlessly, "I can only say, it's in very poor taste-"
At his last words I half expected him to explode from all of the frustration, but instead he yanked the door open and several people came tumbling in, one on top of the other. At least five of them, each one plumper and rounder than the next. I couldn't help but stifle a laugh into my sleeve. I had to admit, watching the small thing run around all flustered was a bit amusing.
The pile moaned and groaned as they tried to get off of each other, failing miserably. Only putting their elbows and knees into places that were probably less than desired. Then a very tall man leaned down and peered in, with a beard down to his knees and a pointed hat on top of his head. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was a wizard. But I knew they didn't exist. Though, there was such a thing as hobbits and I was pretty sure those didn't exist either. Wherever I was, it was nothing like where I came from, and I was coming to learn that real quick.
"Gandalf." Bilbo exasperated, seeming somewhat glad to see someone he recognized.
"Good evening, Mr Baggins." The old man offered, with a tip of his hat. "And who's this by your side?"
Bilbo looked at me, and then back at Gandalf. "Sh-she's not one of yours? I-I thought-"
"Bronwyn, sir. I ran into Balin along the way, seeing as I was a bit lost, he decided I should stay here for the night." I smiled, hoping that neither of them poked and prodded my story too much.
"It's a pleasure- hmm." The old man mused, scratching his chin and leaning his walking stick towards me. "That necklace, where did you get it?"
I was somewhat startled by the change in topic and the direct attention to the amulet around my neck. I didn't think it was all that obvious hanging around my neck. It was meek and silver and nothing to extravagent. Holding onto it, I swallowed past a lump in my throat. The old coot was making me nervous, speaking about things I wasn't so sure about myself. Just a simple necklace, is what I thought it was once upon a time. But I knew then that it wasn't. It was the only thing left on me when I suddenly appeared in 'Hobbiton'.
Getting back to what he said, I tried to speak but ended up coughing a bit. I apologised and continued. "It's an old family heirloom. Found it upstairs one day, dusty old thing. Mind if I take your hat?"
He mumbled a bit again, stepping over the pile up of men at his feet. "Thank you, my dear."
I took the hat from him as he took it off of his head, hanging it on a hat rack and moving to go elsewhere.
"My dear, could I have a word?" Gandalf asked, clearly not allowing me to avoid the subject. "It'll only take a moment, I assure you."
Another lump formed in my throat and I just couldn't muster past this one. So, facing the kitchen, I simply nodded, and wondered if for a moment I was going to be caught in the lies I'd spun and I'd be removed from the premises without a second thought. I hoped that wouldn't be the case, hobbits were supposed to be hospitable. But Gandalf was no hobbit. He was quite a large old man looking down at me kindly. And it was the kind look that swayed me. Reluctantly, I followed him into an unoccupied room, and expected the worst. Because I knew it was coming. Whether in that exact moment or not, the worst was yet to come.