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A blow to the head can ruin your whole day, though when your day consisted of running invisible around a battlefield, ruining is a sort of relative term. At least she was alive and un-trampled, so thank goodness for small mercies.
Sometimes she wished her small mercies would extend to the people she cared about.
A man had found her on Raven Hill and escorted her to where the people of Laketown were camped. There she learned of the battle's outcome (eagles, always the damn eagles) and the recent management change in the Lonely Mountain.
"Apparently Oakenshield was cut down in the battle, because his cousin Dain has been handling all the negotiations," the man had said.
"What about his nephews? His heirs Filli and Killi? What about them?" Bilba had asked, trying to comfort a distressed Rufus in her pocket.
The man shrugged. "Fell with him I suppose. Lord Bard said he saw them in one of the medical tents looking pretty bloody. If they were in any shape to stand, they would be the ones in charge, wouldn't they?"
"But they were so young," she wanted to say, but the words got stuck in her throat.
She stayed in the camp just long enough to get her wounds bandaged and some rest, before she started asking about how she was to find her way home. She was banished from the dwarven kingdom after all, and didn't want more trouble heaped upon her, despite how she might wish to contact her remaining company members.
A contingent of elves offered to take her through Mirkwood on their way home. Apparently some negotiations were underway with the dwarves and the elf king wished to return to his kingdom and reassure his subjects before they began. Bilba could appreciate his wish to burry the dead.
During the journey she acquainted herself with the frosty elf king, and gave him a gaudy diamond necklace by way of apology for her sneaking around his dungeons for all those weeks. The necklace was the very piece of treasure she had taken from Smaug's hoard, which initially aroused the dragon's rage. It had sat in the bottom of her pack ever since.
Thranduil gained an odd expression on his face as he examined her offering.
"I would not take all you have, my lady."
Bilba shrugged. "No please, it's the least I can do."
His face cracked into an almost there smile. "Then I name you elf friend, and pray that you stay for a while as a guest in my home."
"I would simply like to return home, if it's all the same to you, sire," the hobbit sighed.
He nodded. "Then I will not see you come to harm on your journey. Please, accept my guard as an escort for as long as you may."
"Oh, I couldn't possibly!" she blustered, but the king's amused expression broke no argument.
The stately contingent followed her all the way to Beorn's house, where she managed to talk them into going home.
"I plan to spend some time here," she reassured the elves. "Go back to your king, with my thanks."
True to her word, the hobbit did stay for quite some time with Beorn and his animals. Eventually Gandalf showed up, having learned her location from the elves, and the two of them made their way back to the Shire.
There Bilba took one look at Bag End and exploded. Her sword was in her hand faster than you could say 'gem'.
"What are you doing in my house!" Bilba roared, leaping from the back of her pony into the midst of what appeared to be an auction.
"Miss Ba-ba-ba-Baggins!" squeaked the presiding sales person. "We thought you were da-da-dead!"
"And who told you that, eh?" She turned to the crowd, fire flashing in her eyes as she brandished her sword. "Look here you lot, I'm happily among the living, and if you return my possessions where you stole them from me in this unsanctioned auction, you might all remain happily here with me!" She glared at the auctioneer. "Do we understand each other?"
There was practically a flurry of movement as the hobbits turned tail to flee like lemmings. Most dropped whatever items they had purchased right there on the lawn, not even bothering to get a refund as they ran from that Mad Miss Baggins. Those that didn't (Cough Sackville-Baggins Cough) were soon to expect a house call from the enraged part-darrow lass.
Eventually Bag End was put back into order with everything in its proper place, save the silver teaspoons which Bilba could never prove were stolen.
The red granite smial stood empty at the edge of the Shire. A maid was paid to dust the place out twice a month, but Bilba herself avoided it after she moved the last box of her grandmother's belongings into the basement of her house in Hobbiton. She had not touched any of those since moving them into storage.
Her hair hung loose just above her shoulders in a proper hobbit cut, save for a spot at her temple where the hair was sheered short. The braid which once rested there now lay at a stone cut grave beside a shroud embroidered with a tale of dragons and diamonds and adventure. Any other adornments were carefully placed in the chest at the foot of her bed to be forgotten.
But now, in a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty dirty hole, or a hall of stone; this was a hobbit hole, and that meant comfort and peace.
Bilba sat on the bench near her mailbox, a teapot balanced on a tray at her side. A small pink rat nibbled contentedly on a bit of radish in her lap. The hobbit patted his head wistfully.
"I guess it's just you and me now Rufus," she sighed, leaning over her cup of tea.
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Dwarvish translations
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amadel - mother of all mothers. Closest word I could find to grandmother.
khajimel- gift of all gifts. I use it as an endearment, like when people say a child is a 'gift from above.'
urjukhudh - color. Here I'm using it to mean something like luster.
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Elvish Translations
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kalina - light
taurn - high
n'taurn - low
taurn kalina - high light, aka: ultraviolet, ect. I made up this concept based on science.
n'taurn kalina - low light, aka: red light spectrum, radio waves, ect. I made up this concept based on science.
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A/N
This fic idea came about when I read a line in the fic "Before the War- The Ring" where Merry comments on his having 5 o'clock shadow because of some Stoor's blood in his family. My initial thought of "wtf is a Stoor and why, if they are a species of hobbit, would they have beards" somehow morphed into the Stoor family being of dwarven descent (because dwarfs have beards), and then this fic happened.
The thing about dwarves being essentially colorblind is an idea I've been playing around with. Evolutionarily it makes sense. Why wold you need to see color in a dark tunnel? Mostly the idea came from me wondering why they liked shiny things so much... their attraction would make sense if dwarfs literally could not see brilliance anywhere but in gems and metal. I've got a friend who never developed cones on his retina to see color, and hearing him describe stained windows and glass when he is unable to see anything except shades of grey is interesting.
The idea of elves being able to see colors past the spectrum of human eyes makes similar sense. Why shouldn't they be able to see ultraviolet light or radio waves or some sort? Type in 'ultraviolet flower pictures' into google to see the hidden patterns of flowers. The science is quite cool.
My head cannon is that dwarves have star nosed moles, naked mole rats, ground owls, and other underground animals as cute adorable pets. Yes, I am making a Kim Possible reference.
Also my head cannon: Dwarves are essentially fire proof, because they were made of fire and stone when the middle earth was created. Evidence: In the hobbit no one gets burned while handeling/ skiing down molten gold in the forge scene. In the appendix, it says Morgoth made dragons out of stone and fire, because he could never corrupt dwarfs and believed that something made out of the same material as them would be perfect to combat them.
Also, Bilba ages much slower than a normal hobbit. No one in her dwarven family relations have ever died of natural causes (ie: old age). This prompted many in the shire to believe Kayli's descendents to be cursed. If one of the dwobbits was able to reach a ripe old age, it would be closer to 200 yrs, rather than the normal 100 yrs of a regular hobbit. The Numinor men only had one elf in the family, and several hundred generations later Aragon still is in his prime at 87 in LotR. Therefore, even though Bilba is about three generations removed from Kayli, she is still looks biologically quite young. At 60-ish years (her age in the Hobbit) she might be considered mature for a hobbit, but she is not yet an adult in dwarf standards. She is closer to Fili and Kili's age, despite her mature air.
Valandhir's Raven's Blade series explores this concept wonderfully, and is just full of all kinds of awesome anyway. You should go read it. Seriously, I'm surprised it's not as well known on ffn. The story is written so intricately and with such gravitas, that I want it made into a real hard copy book I can put at my bedside. I also now support the epic (for it is truly epic) bromance of Killi and Boromir, just sayin'.
...So anyone who knows the head-butting story from the LotR outtakes (see youtube LotR outtakes part 1) will understand why my new head cannon has Aragon/ Viggo as a total troll who likes to mess with Orlando Bloom's 'perfect elven complexion'. The fact that they managed to work it into the Hobbit makes me smile. "The white light!"
Also, this is mix of cannon book/movie plot stuff, because Tauriel shouldn't exist as a romantic plot point. She don't need no man to be bad-ass.
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