Creatures of Middle Earth

by saint2sinners

Yavanna created hobbits to bring blessings and bounty to the creatures of Middle Earth. After centuries of isolation in the shire however most races have forgotten almost everything about the halflings, especially how those blessings touched each of the races and what the presence of a hobbit did to the beings of Middle Earth. The races are about to be reminded.

3. Chapter 2 - Bree

Meet Prim: h t . /c0004cf6a1f176692c730470b4867a22/tumblr_n5o3j30ie71qcm0m3o1_

Tangled - Mother Knows Best
h t watch?v=fi8kYcl2Y38&index=5&list=RDQMHgvyPcRpU8o
Aka 'Primula's theme song:'
"Ruffians, thugs,
Poison ivy, quicksand!
Cannibals and snakes
The plague! Yes!
Also large bugs
Men with pointy teeth,
And Stop, no more, you'll just upset me!"

(h t 236x/4f/53/f8/4f53f806b33ac9291f7d009cdc1196d7. jpg)
Prim's idea of Thorin.

Again if you feel like sharing a coffee with us you can buy is a coffee /saintandnyrah

Not required but would be appreciated. Remember one cup of American coffee, keeps Nyrah and I in tea for two weeks! 😊

Chapter Text

Bree

***O***

Bree was a very ancient settlement of men in Eriador, long established by the time of the Third Age of Middle-earth. After the collapse of the kingdom of Arthedain, Bree continued to thrive without any central authority or government for many centuries. As Bree lies at the meeting of two large roadways, the Great East Road and the (now disused) Greenway, it had for centuries been a centre of trade and a stopping place for travellers, though as Arnor in the north waned Bree's prosperity and size declined.

***O***

Dwalin had been a soldier and a guard for longer than any of the rickety grandfathers in the village of Bree had been alive. During the long march from Erebor and years of struggle in Ered Luin, the axe-wielding dwarf had been made to visit many villages of men across the lands of Middle Earth; whether simply passing through or the occasional stint as guard for some caravan. Now, in the final grasping light of the day, he took in the village of Bree. He found it to be not so large as some, but then also not as small as the word village implied. His experienced eye took in this 'Bree,' and found that not only was it playing at being a fortress, but it was doing none too poorly at it either.

There were many villages which sat upon a hilltop, preventing both the hordes from approaching unseen as well as ensuring that should they arrive, they did so winded. None of those other villages, though, had the occasional round door and smoking chimney hidden among the dips and curves of the lush grass leading up the hill. There were some villages which built a wall encircling their homes and businesses, secure enough to bring comfort to all those who lived life behind them. Those walls however, were normally built of pillars of wood, rather than stone raised as high as the roofs peeking barely over the edge of the barrier. There were even a few villages which kept a trench deep around them, a guard against horsemen and hungry livestock both, but none he had ever seen backed by a thick hedge of thorn and bramble to catch and cut at any who might be able to conquer that trench. This was no fortress, clearly, but all the same there was a very definite intent, in every brick of design, at keeping unwanted visitors where they belonged: outside the village of Bree.

A tip of red flame caught his eye and he turned his head from assessing the sight of the village to see that Nori had sidled forward. A considering thought rode his knit brow as the thief took in the fortifications as he had; for entirely different reasons, Dwalin was sure. Still the Ri stood, his forge-fire hair like open flames in the setting sun's light, searching for a weak point. The red-haired dwarf turned to him then and their eyes met in understanding before both glancing back behind them, the way they had come. Walking up the path and hill with crowd and ponies, the only threat had been Thorin's still-lingering temper over the hobbit's outburst. But now, the sun was nearly gone and the shadows of the wood seemed to be spreading out, reaching forward and trailing just a little ways behind them.

By Mahal's own forge, what skulked in those woods?

What was once a simple refuge for leaf eaters and small animals now seemed watchful and tense, and Dwalin shuddered, not wanting to turn his back on it without those walls and trenches between him and an enemy he wasn't sure he could face with his axe; one that might not even exist outside shades and dreams and paranoid words planted by their new burglar, but present none the less. He wasn't sure if it was simply the hobbit's words calling horrors from below into the forefront of his mind but right now he was gladdened that they had followed the fussy little creature as they had.

Beside him, Nori's fingers twitched and he glanced to the forest again. Dwalin saw, for only an instant, a sliver of tanned skin showing through the braids of his beard as Nori's neck twisted to look behind them, perhaps seeing the same imagined shadows, perhaps not. Either way, the instincts shared by guard and rouge and any who walked the quiet shadows of night whispered to them both in a chill voice. But for Dwalin those voices were dismissed, lost to the moment of skin and the vulnerable heat beneath the meticulous weave of beard on the Ri.

The guard's mouth filled, thick and warm with breath and thought and it took a moment before he could force it back down. He swallowed back the shameful saliva of want with a shake of his head and moved forward again, following Thorin, his king. It didn't matter how lovely the Ri's were or what Nori's smirk might promise along the way from alley to jail cell. He was a rouge, a smuggler and a common thief. Sharing place in the company would never unmake those truths. A sliver of want could never overwhelm the shame he carried under that skin. He shook his head again. Turning forward and moving closer to his Brother and King, he pushed other thoughts into the foreground. Raised voices broke him from idle and dangerous thought. He approached the great wooden gate, the weakest point apparent in these fortifications.

"Yeh ain't gettin' in. I already told ya that. It's past dark and t'ain't nobody gettin' in now! What else do yer want?"

"For you to open the gate and let us in you kabâru drekh*!" Barked Thorin.

His kin's shining charm aside, he understood Thorin's frustration as they had seen the gates swing closed mere minutes before they reached them. Balin tried making peace, stepping between Thorin and the human, muttering to the guard - what of him they could see through the viewing hole in the hard, wooden gate.

"Now I understand that you must see the gate closed at sunset, but surely you see as well as we do that there's a bit of time left."

Balin's friendly tone tempered the iron of Thorin's frustration even as the other spat back Kuzdul too hard and harsh for the man to understand. His tone held all the hellish translation of imagination however, driving up their likelihood of having to stay outside ever closer with nightfall. With the growing shadows of the Old Forest, Dwalin felt less forgiving himself and moved to stand in view of the small porthole, realising that the man there wasn't much taller than he was.

"Well it's already dark enough so yeh short shits can piss off!"

* kabâru drekh – mangy animal

***O***

In the village, in-between stalls being packed up and voices calling out for last sales and turning away stragglers in equal proportions, Bilbo made her way through the market. She counted off in her head the several things she'd managed to get, from blankets to tobacco, compounding the conundrum that faced all the travellers, which compelled one to pack for anything that might come up, but also to limit oneself strictly to what one could easily carry. Passing near the eastern market gate she heard the raised voices and frowned, watching Bill Ferney - the old gate guard - from behind.

She shook her head at the disruptive attempts to gain entry adding colour to the local sounds of the evening. If they'd just listened to her, they would be inside and not having this problem. She considered going to help them, not wanting the young ones to suffer the night and the shadows it held. Memory of the pained day's travel encouraged her not to get involved. It was late and these were dwarves. Mr Ferny was a nosy, nasty piece of work who was mean, besides being as crooked as a corkscrew. He wasn't too bright or the least bit subtle though, and eventually one of them would figure out to bribe him with coin or news like everyone else.

Meanwhile, time was fast running out and she still wanted to stop at a store or two after the stalls had packed up proper. It was important that she had everything she'd need now that there was time to think before morning; essentials to make her journey easier. More importantly, some hard buns and dried fruit to prevent another incident like missing second breakfast while at all possible. Turning on her heel she made her way over to Mayflower Proudfoot's stand. Baker's first and then she'd head over to see about some extra thread and the like before the dear hobbit closed shop.

***O***

Gandalf the Grey, also called Olórin, Mithrandir, Incánus, Tharkûn, Greyhame, Old Greybeard, the Grey Pilgrim, Stormcrow, Láthspell, Big Greybeard, Long Greybeard, Pointy Hat, Tall Fellow, Gandalf the Fool, Wizard, Servant of the Secret Fire, Wielder of the Flame of Anor and Elf-friend… was in eager search of a drink.

The Pony was his true destination, but slipping unseen through various bygones, alleyways and other, little-known roads might earn him a remembered trinket or treat; a balance born of a thousand years' experience. Eyes that saw a friend might see the ragged grey cloak passing by, but without magic eyes and ears that might belong to enemies ignored the vagabond crusting through the disregarded gutters of the street.

His route led him to come up from behind the Pony, unoccupied as the stable-hobbit sought his supper - a staple more sacred then an employer's reprimand. Passage clear and unseen by eyes of men… or others, who walked the streets of Bree with more impunity than those who were best left unseen. The sun had almost set and already the edges of the markets and store fronts were growing hushed as the lit buildings made their presence known with cooking and joyful merriment in the close of another day.

"Gandalf!"

He froze.
The voice hissing out in a hacked mushroom cloud of confusion didn't come into the villages of men or dwarf; it didn't visit this side of the Misty Mountains, as a matter of fact.

"Gandalf the Grey!"

The hissing whisper grew lounder with repetition, it seemed. Gandalf peered around, but saw nobody. He checked the murky pools of horse troughs and saw no strange reflection to meet him. He raised a brow. Where the hell was…

"Gandalf! Here! Shh!"

Only one person was foolish enough to shout a shush. Finally, his eyes drifted left to a tangle of gorse and weed under one of the tavern's outer windows. No doubt watered by gutters, troughs, patrons' spilled beer and various odiferous offerings, the smell curled like a finger beckoning him forward like a withered hag's coarse flirtation. Still, he startled. There under the sill, in the bush itself, was a face. A green face. A familiar face indeed, but… green. Put together with the shift and shape of leaves, branches and even caterpillar eyebrows, the flowers blinked like eyes in the foliage flesh.

"Radagahst?"
He stepped towards it, making sure that the window didn't grow ears purely by merit of being ajar. And yes! It was the brown wizard, although at that very moment was more of a mottled mix of green: Green twig, bending and twisting to form the curve of cheek. Green leaves spreading their veins to form temple and ear, green moss, reeking of the patrons' water… a sight better than the original beard and hair, Gandalf thought privately. The face moved, desperation twisting into joy at his recognition.

"Gandalf! Good! I'm glad it's really you, old friend. Now come. We must go away from this…" the flower-eyes inspected the nearby buildings with the consideration of an unsympathetic mother-in-law, "place! Quickly."

"Radaghast! What are you doing here? And go where old friend? I can't spare much time. I am on a quest most- "

"Darkness, Gandalf!" The slurring confusion cleared in a moment of grim terror he had not seen since they were young and home. "It's coming. And spreading and… stop that! That's my foot!"

The face looked down at something unseen below the soil, or perhaps elsewhere entirely. Befuddled foolishness painted his tone again. "Gandalf the rabbits have my foot. Ask the trees, I'm not far. But quickly now."

"Radagast wait-!"

But the face was gone. And after a moment's consideration and a brief commiseration from his belly to his brain, so was the grey wizard.

***O***

Fili an Kili strolled through the muddy lanes of Bree. Balin had finally gotten them through the gates with the clink of coin and the dwarves had all separated to enjoy what little time they had in town. Since enjoyment was not something often inherent to any of Durin's direct bloodline, Thorin had turned straight to the Prancing Pony, convinced he'd find the wizard there. He'd called for his nephews to find the burglar at once and bring him to the Pony. "Drag him if you have to, but make sure he is there. I'm not letting the hobbit disappear after this insubordination."

That left them walking the stalls, empty and closing, in search of the hobbit. Ahead, a baker's stall was packing up for the day. Left-over buns and cakes were still in baskets, waiting to be taken wherever the leftovers were taken. Most didn't give the day-old wares a glance but Fili urged his brother, tilting his chin. A glance, a brief nod and then Kili fell two steps behind, slowing his stride.

Uncle didn't trust them with coin since the last time they'd been given spare it had gone to filling the glass of every dwarf at the tavern but they, like all dwarves, had learnt to do without. Their way of learning did not quite suit the title of 'Prince of Erebor' but needs must, as they say. Fili didn't even glance at the stall as they passed a foot from the edge of it. His brother, following a few paces after, didn't eye the stall either. Instead, the youngest Durin eyed the baker selling the wares as if she were the most edible thing at the stand. He lagged even more, with a slow, easy smile and eyes meeting hers. At her blush his gaze drifted across her form, caressing. His grin spread appreciatively and she smiled back, biting at her lip.
Their gaze never broke, even under the promise tying the moment together. The invitation, issued simply by Kili stopping, never came; a moment, a simple moment between the roguish dwarf and a pretty baker. Simple, but perfect, to share over tea with her friends for days to come. Passing the stall, Kili turned, walking backwards, risking catastrophe just for a last, lingering look and a cheeky wink before turning a corner after his brother.
Fili for his part had flicked his hand out in a subtle motion as Kili met – and crucially, held - the maiden's eyes. Just for a moment, neither stopping nor slowing, and most importantly unobserved by the distracted woman. A few feet down the way they turned a corner into the thin, piss-fouled alley between two stores and he tossed the pilfered scone to Kili. It was dry, but did well enough for two dwarfs who were still a hobbit away from dinner. They shared a wicked grin.
Dusting crumbs off a few minutes later and leaving out the other end of the alley, they heard a familiar voice.

"Prim!"

As one they leaned forward, eyes and the tops of fuzzy heads peering around the corner to the street, and the meeting beyond.

***O***

Blackroot: a thin, hard black root of Shire origin. When chewed, it is said to provide an increase in virile fitness in males. A more confirmed effect is as a contraceptive among the shire's female population. The use of black root, while vital culturally, carries certain societal criticism. Cultivated from the old valley before the hobbit migration and requiring specific conditions for growth, it is not commonly found in other parts of Middle Earth.
"Buying my brothers blackroot" Is a common colloquial expression used to signal a hobbitess is ready for sexual exploration without unnecessarily over-inflating the population of the Shire.

***O***

A few valuable minutes of sunlight later, darkness had truly fallen. Looking down while packing the traveller's kit and needles into her satchel, Bilbo was hurrying to catch the last of the bakers before the cooling evening air chased them to early beds. The unexpected collision with a mess of honeyed curls in a neat gingham dress attached to a similarly sized body sent her stumbling before an arm reached out and caught her. The apology was on her lips before her mind had registered what or who she'd run into. Preparing to unleash the ingrained manners that her Baggins father had made as second nature to good breeding, she was brought up short when a joyous, "Bilbo!" bloomed in the air.
She looked to meet the eyes of her cousin Primula.
"Prim!"

The two clasped at the other, revelling in the chance meeting. They didn't often get a chance to meet anymore without their parents' visits to use as excuse, and with the lanes of the Shire and Buckland dividing them. It showed in their joy as they held each other fast, that even when untangling their limbs and curls, stayed close to speak.

"What are you doing in Bree? I thought you were staying in the Shire all season? If I'd known, I would have offered to join your walking holiday!"

Buckland was not too far from Bree after all, and Bilbo would have seen the sense… if this had been a walking holiday. "It's not a holiday Prim. I'm… I must go somewhere. I'm being taken with by dwarves."
Looking up, she realised that Prim had just come out of the apothecary. Another stop for her to make before the new night chased all dregs of day's earnings from mercantile minds. The calls of people leaving and stall owners packing up cluttered the air. Night wasn't too far off, and through the glass she could see the old man behind the counter starting to count the coins of the day.
"There were these dwarves you see. They came to my home and… well… I didn't expect this to happen."
In her head, she thought of what she needed still. There wouldn't be time come dawn when other, more sane hobbits were still abed. The glaring item atop that list was in the apothecary. She could survive the lack of rolls or extra blankets to pad the nag they'd put her on, but Blackroot was not negotiable for a young woman travelling with a dozen disreputable dwarves into the wilderness. She continued eyeing the apothecary, judging how long she had until he decided new business wasn't worth late supper. "Didn't want to go at all, truth be told, but they were cursedly insisted, so here I am. I barely made it into Bree to get some things I'll need before they throw me back over that pony in the morning and we disappear across the river."
She considered nudging her cousin back into the small store to continue talking while she shopped, all her attention on journey-planning and not on the face so closely related to her own.

Primula Brandybuck was her cousin, her mother's sister's daughter and there was a similar apple to their cheek and a shade of gold threaded between their curls. While Bilbo's was threaded through a riot of hazel and corn, Primula had a head so honeyed that bees could daydream in its riotous curls. Prim's eyes were the distinctive Took blue however, and right now were as wide as saucers. As she listened to the horrors heaped on her cousin, they were no match for the horrors conjured up by a mind that spent a fair amount of time in the shadowed forests of Bilbo's latest stories. A kidnapping worsened all those thoughts. "D-dwarves? How many?! What… why didn't anyone stop them?"

Prim may not have been a fool, but she was occasionally guilty of being quite foolish. Then again, the Tookish blood mixed with Brandybuck courage did not help.

Bilbo looked to her cousin again for only a fraction of a moment as two familiar heads peered around a corner at the end of the road. She swore under her breath, looking around for His Royal Majesty the Storm Cloud. She was in no mood to deal with his nonsense and high-handed demands. "Thirteen dwarves...fourteen if you count the wizard," she replied absently.
What the bloody hell were those two trouble-makers doing peering at her around a corner like that? Brunette rats'-nest on legs! Kili's eyes flittered to her cousin and then…lingered. Appreciatively. Bilbo drew herself up. Her cousin was not to be leered at! She grabbed Prim's arm, twisting her around to block their view, not realising she was giving her cousin a clear view of the two suspicious dwarves giving the hobbits more than passing attention.
The second half of Prim's exclamation finally filtered through. "Stop them? Well they came in very late, and left quite early. I suppose those who saw were too surprised to do much. They didn't do much damage after all, not enough for anyone to care."

Primula spun around her cousin's form, her heart jumping with the sudden movement and a tremble building as she took in the anxiety and tension in Bilbo's every movement. The Baggins was anxious, that much was clear, and seemed to be furtively looking around all the time. Nervous in gesture and urgent in action: this was not her cousin. She felt cold fill her lungs, imagining what these dwarves would do to her cousin. "Oh – oh Bilbo! We can go. Get a ranger or some such...there's got to be someone who will help!"

Bilbo sighed, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes drilling into her back, the feeling of each second passing as the light dimmed. Inside the store the apothecary seemed focused on someone in the racks. At least he would wait for them before closing. "I don't think anyone can help."
She missed the sob smothered in her cousin's throat.
"Ranger or not, this lot doesn't seem to trust anyone but dwarves enough to let them close. There's no one else to take my place in their eyes. At least not now that Gandalf's convinced them."

"Gandalf! He's part of this too?" Stories of caution from her grandfather flashed through Prim's mind: how the wizard could appropriate the old Took with words and lead hobbits like her Aunt Belladonna into bad decisions and trouble. If he was helping the dwarves capture Bilbo… who could stand against a wizard?

"Prim, let's move inside and talk, I need to get some-" Bilbo dove forward into the shadow of the wall, pulling her cousin with her. "Damnit!"
The flash of white she'd seen moving between two shelves stilled. Balin was in the store. The old dwarf seemed friendly enough, but he also seemed wiser than his foolhardy king; she couldn't let him see her. She pushed Prim back absently against the brick face. Across the street, Mary Proudfoot sniffed at theses shady actions and hurried away. Bilbo ignored her. Prim, out of habit, gave her a glare that could peel paint in return. Then, realising her cousin was acting like a lunatic, pushed back against the arm holding her to the wall. "What are you doing?"

Bilbo glanced at her, then peered around the corner of the window again. Balin didn't seem to have seen her. "I need to… one of them is in there, Prim. And I need to get... Prim. Prim. What's that?"

Not turning their faces from the women, Bilbo missed the two wastrels, who had been alerted by the furtive actions their burglar, step out from around the corner as they eyed the two hobbits suspiciously. The wizard's parting words flitted through their minds, and Thorin had said to drag the hobbit to the Pony if necessary. A phantom twinge to their ears had them sharing a glance before nodding in agreement. They couldn't allow the buxom little hobbit-lass to steal their burglar away. They slunk forward.

Bilbo's eyes were drawn to the brown package Prim had been clutching close through their encounter. There was a familiar symbol on that package her younger cousin held. "Primula. Is that… did you buy your brothers blackroot?"
The censure there on her face conflicted with consideration.

"Don't you look at me like that Bilbo Baggins! You just said you were here to buy it yourself."

"I am not in my Thirties with no solid prospects Prim!"

"No, you're in your fifties with no prospects! It's my life and my brothers' blackroot Bilbo. Why are we having this argument? You're being dragged off by a dozen scroungy dwarves! How is my going around the Party Tree worse than that?!"

Bilbo nodded reluctantly. Her cousin was right after all. This was neither the time nor the place. "You're right. Give it here."

Primula clutched it like it was her only child. Bilbo spared a fleeting moment to appreciate the irony in that.
"You go get your own Bilbo Baggins! There's six weeks' worth here and I can't buy again this month! What will people say?"

Six weeks wouldn't be enough. Not nearly. She'd need much more for a long journey. Possibly enough for the travel back as well. Even if she didn't exercise her indulgences on the trip, she couldn't be trusting in hiding her monthlies around that nosy bunch. The idea of sleeping on the cold ground through cramps was even more horrible than riding a jouncing, barrel-sided, post-legged pony with a spine as unforgiving as a gnarled tree branch. Bilbo fiddled with her satchel and pulled out a bag of coin, dragging her cousin's arm close in confidence. She stroked the captive arm coaxingly. "Dearest Prim, listen. I need you to do something for me. It's urgent and important. Go in and buy me all the blackroot they have. All of it Prim, and bring it out to me."

Prim, shocked at the request, loosened her hold enough for Bilbo to exchange her blackroot with the coin purse. "All the- are you mad! My mothershops in Bree! My aunts shop in Bree! They'll hear about it! Bilbo my father will murder me! And I'll be grateful if he does before Grandmama gets hold of me!"

"Tell them it was for me then! I don't care but I need this Prim! I have to-"

Primula shook her head firmly. Enough with this madness. "No Bilbo. No! I won't- you can't! No!" She grabbed her cousin's arm, yanking at her, dragging her away from the apothecary. They hadn't even made it a few steps when the weight of Bilbo both lightened and became downright immobile in Prim's hold. Prim jerked to a halt, her arm still hooked with her cousin's. Looking back, she saw two dwarves - the two from the corner - had scooped her cousin up under her armpits, lifting her up off the ground.

"Afraid not, miss." The darker one said, a playful twinkle in his eye. "This is our burglar, fair and square, and we're not letting him go."

"I'm sure a lovely lady-hobbit such as yourself would be more than welcome to come along though." The blonde, bristling with weapons and dagger sheathes, chimed in, and Prim felt her heart leap.

"You leave her alone, you hear me! I shall box your ears if you accost my cousin!" Bilbo's voice was laced with the same kind of irritation that powered her thrashing limbs, demonstrating her willingness to enact the threat against the two young bucks.

Bilbo wriggled wildly trying to break loose, but after a moment sagged in defeat. Ears and vulnerable spots might help, but dwarven grips were not to be lightly overruled. The two turned as one, jauntily carting her away. Bilbo craned her neck and called over her shoulder, resigned, "The Pony Prim! Tonight! Please."

Prim breathed hard, frantically looking at the corner they turned, now empty and quiet in the growing dark. She looked at the bag in her hand. Bilbo! Kidnapped by Dwarves! Who could she tell? What could she do without Bilbo being hurt and spirited away in the night? Even if she found someone to help, Bilbo'd said there were thirteen of them! And a wizard. They'd need a lot more help than trusting to the aid of possibly-passing-by Rangers. She looked to the apothecary and hefted the coin purse; a years' worth of Blackroot and thirteen dwarves! Imagine!
And then she did. Imagine, that is, and her apple cheeks flamed scarlet rather than rosy. "Thirteen dwarves and a year's worth of blackroot." A scandalised giggle sprang from her lips:
"Bilbo Baggins! Thirteen Dwarves!"
She paused for a moment of envious contemplation, and then she shook her head to dismiss such thoughts. If Bilbo needed this, she'd do it, rumour and consequences be damned! And get help after. How far could they get with only one road out of Bree after all? Primula moved purposefully through the door, calling sheepishly to the apothecary within.