Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

Long hair one way of telling how wealthy/healthy someone was, how regularly they were fed, how well they take care of their hygiene. All good things to know if you want to make babies with someone. Dwarves and elves keep their hair long, but seem to have only straight hair. So, Thorin finds Billa's long, curly hair to be exotically entrancing, as well as enticing because it indicates her health and wealth.

Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?


Chapter 19

Thorin blamed her cooking. Having such a full stomach must be diminishing his mental capacity. Or perhaps hobbit-made ale was stronger than dwarf ale. Maybe this journey had been unusually exhausting, or perhaps spending several hours riding against the rain had worsened his health. Perhaps it was the warmth and welcome that her home exuded, something he hadn't seen or felt since a lad in Erebor. Or, if he was honest with himself, (which he was trying very hard not to be) perhaps it was just that the hobbit filled out that dress in a way he'd never seen before.

Had her laugh always sounded like a handful of tiny jewels being poured into a golden goblet? Had her waist always been so slim? Her hips and chest so ample? Had her hair always been that long, or shone that way in the firelight? He blinked and looked away. Then Kili made her laugh again and Thorin was once more entranced by the way the lamplight reflected in her eyes, and the way she moved her hands as she sat snugly between his nephews, teasing them and warning them about hobbit courtship rites and overprotective fathers with shovels and pitchforks. Then Dis interjected, and the moment was shattered with her question.

"Are you intending to court one of my lads, then, Miss Baggins?" Her voice was glacial, and from her clenched fists, Thorin could tell that she was serious, and had likely been stewing about this for quite some time. Kili perked up. Miss Baggins paused, taken aback, and then laughed.

"No ma'am!" She said cheerfully, as if there had been no threat behind Dis's words. Kili noticeably wilted. "All the males in your family are extremely handsome, and any girl would be lucky to have them, but by the time Fili or Kili come of age, I'll be considered something of a spinster or an old maid. I'm only thirty-three, you know. Hobbits generally only live until one hundred, though my family occasionally manages a decade or so more. By the time your sons reach their hundreds, I'll be getting old and wrinkled. So no, I don't warn them for my sake," she said, nudging Fili and Kili fondly, "I warn them for the sake of the Shire-lasses who have never seen such handsome, gallant, and wonderful boys like ones you've worked so hard to raise. These boys will have to fend off the girls with sticks, just wait and see," she finished, a smile on her face as she teased the boys.

Dis sat back, her mother-bear instincts soothed. Fili and Kili looked a little shocked at how short Billa's life would be, but Thorin was impressed (He was also ignoring the thought that, unless he died in battle, he probably had 70 to 100 years of life left, too).

No matter how rude, cold, or dismissive the dwarves were, this halfling never seemed to break. She never took offense or had to raise her voice. She never fled the fight, either. She responded calmly, warmly, and kindly. It was something he'd never seen before, and the results were impressive. If it had been another dwarf that Dis had questioned that way, they would have exchanged insults and slurs before escalating into blows, possibly with weapons bared. The surroundings would be demolished, and Oin's medical expertise would be absolutely necessary. They might have been kicked out of the house, back into the rain, with no extra supplies and nowhere else to go, in an unfamiliar area with no guide. And yet, because of the halfling's seeming inability to recognize an insult, the matter had been settled moments after it had been raised, they were still all welcome, and they had learned a great deal about a new ally and possibly, a friend. Even more amazing: the halfling seemed to have earned Dis's respect. When was the last time that had happened? Oh yes, Thorin remembered, when she challenged Dwalin to a spar over a century ago. He smirked.

Thorin wasn't anywhere near to wanting to emulate Billa's strategy, but he ruminated over the results anyway. Balin will like her, he thought firmly. His eyes followed her as she stood up, patting Kili's head before she picked up the flagon of (very fine) wine on the table.

"Anyone for a refill?" she asked sweetly, and Thorin found his glass in the air before he even thought about reaching for it. He watched, mesmerized, as she ignored the several raised glasses between them, and walked straight to him. His lips tilted up, appreciating the show of respect and deference. Her hips swung with each step, as did her hair. She held his glass in her hand, her fingers closing over his to hold it steady as she poured. Her hands were warm, and they looked so dainty and small over his sword-and-hammer roughened hands. Her head was tilted, and curls fell over her shoulder to brush against his arm. He wanted to touch them. Were they as soft as they looked? He'd hardly ever seen curly hair before, and none so long and healthy-looking as hers.

Suddenly, she pulled away, her curls slipping softly over his wrist as she turned away to fill Dwalin's cup. The spell was broken, and Thorin was relieved. The urge to reach out and stroke her hair, or touch those dainty little fingers had been nearly irresistible. He shook his head, brushing the wistful smile from his face and firmly affixing his customary scowl.

He sipped the wine, finishing it quickly and setting the glass down. He flexed his muscles and focused his awareness before he rose. Dizziness swamped him, making him feel like he was keeling over even though he knew he stood firmly on solid ground. He discretely flexed his thighs, sending blood rushing back to his head, and his vision cleared.

Thorin gave a brief nod in the halfling's direction before retiring to his room. He walked with steady steps in a perfectly straight line. To anyone looking, there would be no sign of dizziness or weakness, and Thorin would look like he was in complete control. Neither wine nor hobbit lasses had the power to affect kings, after all. Kings, especially exiled dwarven ones, were above such things.

It was only later in his room that he realized that she had called him handsome. He tripped over the bed frame, stubbing his toe and landing on the soft mattress. He growled, kneading his sore toe with his fingers until the ache passed. It's just the food, he reminded himself, or the wine. It was not, he reassured himself firmly, the halfling. Not the halfling at all.