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.

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 22

After over a century in exile, Thorin had forgotten what it felt like to have someone fawning over his work, excited by something he had made. As he watched the the halfling princess showcase the labor of his hands to her uncle the king, Thorin felt a warm swell of pride and appreciation that he hadn't felt since his mother died in Smaug's Desolation. She had been the one he turned to whenever he had completed a new project or advanced in his training. She would take the symbol of his accomplishment in both her hands, a smile on her face, exclaiming over his skill and telling him how lucky she was to have such a talented son. As he watched the grey old hobbit's eyes widen in admiration as he handled the re-forged pans, Thorin felt that same rush of emotion.

Then he learned that Billa had watched her mother perish in front of her, just like he had, and the last of his reluctance was washed away. These were good people, who had suffered from the evil in this world nearly as much as he had, and he had the means to help them, and they had the means to help his people. How could he turn away? They were as near to equals as could be, in this room. Two kings and two princesses, brokering peace to protect their peoples.

As the rest of the day passed, he and Billa closeted themselves in the study, poring over parchment scrolls and maps.

"With all those weapons you'll be forging," Lady Billa said, "We'll need to train hobbits to use them."

Thorin grimaced. "I can't spare many warriors, Lady Billa," he said. "The trade routes are dangerous, and I need peacekeepers and guards in Ered Luin."

As always, Lady Billa found a way to reconcile the problem. "I'm sure you have a few ancient warriors in need of a warm place with plenty of food to retire. Someone who has learned patience over the years, and can manage a class full of beginners without sending them all home in tears?" she suggested.

Thorin thought carefully and yes, there were several dwarrow he could think of that would work in such a position. "I can think of several," he admitted. "How many trainees were you thinking?" he asked.

Billa's eyes sharpened. "At first, only a few. But in time, I want to make it so every able-bodied hobbit in the Shire has spent at least a few months in these classes!" she said firmly, her eyes shining. "With skills-displays at carnivals and parties, some well-played gossip, and perhaps a few marriage proposals, these weapons classes will become highly sought after."

For a moment, Thorin gaped at her. Gossip and proposals to make weapons-training more popular? Impossible! he thought.

With a laugh, Billa explained. "I will successfully persuade several young hobbits who are about to enter courtship to join the weapons training. When their opponents in love lose, I will be heard saying that it was the weapons training, and the strength and skills they learned there, that helped the lovers to win each suit. It is a sly ploy, but one that is sure to work. My mother used it to great affect to encourage young lovers to buy her jewelry. The newly affianced couples always seemed to be wearing something she made, and so hopeful suitors would always purchase something of hers, hoping it was good luck."

Thorin listened, fascinated despite the odd subject matter. She doesn't need weapons or armies to control this nation, he realized. She uses her words and their own thoughts to mold this kingdom to her will. Such a concept was completely foreign to the straightforward dwarf, but he resolved to see it in action before passing judgment.

Then they were off talking again about what trades would be best to bring to the Shire.

"The Shire has many fauntlings. Toy carvers or story tellers would be very popular. We have few buildings made of stone, because we lack the skills to work it properly. I would pay well for a stone mason to shore up some of the cottages on my properties, and even to reinforce old smials who have collapsed under floods, mudslides, and other disasters. I think it would be wise to arrange to have a few places of fortification in each city built up in case of future attacks, and for storing grain in case of emergencies. And you, Mister Thorin, what is it that you need most in trade with the Shire?" she asked.

Thorin snorted grimly. Three days ago, he would never have considered admitting the weaknesses of his people to anyone, let alone this halfling. Now, knowing her position and her commitment to make this agreement work, Thorin was coming to believe that he could tell her of all his weaknesses, and she would not use them to strike at him. Instead, her only concern would be to help him fix them. After a lifetime of fearing attack and betrayal, this fledgling trust caused a peculiar lightness in his heart and he found a smile almost constantly on his lips. Even as he spoke of the grave problems facing his people this winter, he smiled because he believed that together, they could find a solution.

"The winter coming will be long and desperately cold," he said. "Despite our long years in exile, we've little money and many of us go without shelter. Even now, we live mostly hand to mouth. Our numbers are few already," he admitted, "but each winter we lose more than we can afford. We need shelter, and food, and warmth."

Billa's eyes were narrowed, leaning back in her chair, eyes on the ceiling and fingers steepled. On anyone else, Thorin would feel a rush of rage that they were ignoring him, especially during such a humble recital. For Billa, however, he already recognized this as her 'thinking about something really important' pose, and he waited for several minutes as her fingers tapped thoughtfully against each other.

"How many?" she spoke abruptly. "How many of your people are especially at risk this winter?"

Thorin did some rough calculations in his head. "We lost thirty-seven dwarrow last winter. I'd expect about forty or so, particularly among the young and the very old."

"I'm not certain about dwarrow customs, Mister Thorin, so if what I suggest is some kind of taboo, please be gentle with your displeasure," she said, prefacing her idea with a disclaimer.

"Among those dwarves who are very old, do they have crafts that they would be willing or able to teach to a young hobbit apprentice?" she asked. "Skills like weaving, and carving, business, accounting, almost any skill you can think of," she said earnestly, abandoning her thoughtful pose and turning to lean towards him. "Apprenticeships in the Shire are usually done without an exchange of gold, and it can go one of two ways. The gaffers could either live with their apprentice's family, or only stay there during the day, whichever they prefer, or the apprentice could come and stay with them. The teacher is paid in food, goods, and sometimes shelter, and the learner or the learner's family does the paying."

Thorin's heart swelled in hope at what he was hearing. This could save so many of the old dwarves that he had thought might take the final journey during this winter.

"For the children..." Billa went back to her pose. "I suppose their families would want to come with them?" she hazarded, and Thorin made an affirmative noise. For being so new to dwarves, she seemed to interpret their grunts with surprising accuracy, he noted.

"How many would come of the young and their families?" she asked.

"I'd say to expect two dozen of the elderly," Thorin said gruffly, "and we've only 18 dwarrow under the age of twenty," he said. "With their parents, I'd think about forty total for the younglings."

"Eighteen," Billa mused. Suddenly she bolted upright. "I've got it!" she crowed in excitement. She swooped in to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Thorin!" she cried, "I've got it!"

Stunned from her lips brushing against his beard and his name on her lips so informally, Thorin was a little slow to follow. "You have got what?" he asked, stymied.

Billa was scrabbling for parchment, writing things down too quickly, and the quill blotted and scratched against the paper, but Billa didn't seem to mind. "I was sure that they would have a trade of some kind that they could ply for profit in the Shire," she said quickly. "The only problem was, where were they to stay? I only have thirteen bedrooms, after all, and I couldn't guarantee that others would want to take them in. Then I realized! The old smials!" Thorin stared at her for a moment, not understanding yet.

"I will buy some of the old, fallen-in smials in the Shire," she explained eagerly, chest heaving as she panted out the words. "Then! I will use my good Baggins gold to pay for dwarven craftsmen to rebuild the broken parts with stone. Then! When they are livable, I will stock them with food and rent them out to you, Thorin Oakenshield, for the use of your people. You, or they, or however you want to handle it, will pay something that we can settle when we figure out what exactly skills the occupants have to hand and what their income will probably be," she said, flapping a hand to wave away concerns over this part. "The children and their families, and the elderly if they don't want to live with their apprentices, will rent these smials. The mothers and fathers will have a home to work from while they ply their trades. A place that is warm and dry and safe. When we work out the rent, I'll assume you'll want to own the smials, eventually?" she clarified, finally looking up at him from the parchment she had been laboring over.

"Er, yes," Thorin said, recovering quickly. "That would be preferable, though I'd have to decline if the rent payments were too high," he reminded her. There was no suspicion in his voice, not anymore. Just a reminder that his people were poor and very far away from home.

"Mmmm," Billa agreed. "If you were to supply the stoneworkers at a discounted rate, I could apply that discounted rate to the rent, or I could pay you exorbitantly and charge a higher rent..." She mused. Before he could take offense, she explained. "All I want to do is eventually make up the money that I spend on the Smials. I have other tenants, and I've no desire to make an unfair profit on the backs of your people, Mister Thorin," she explained. "Nor do I wish to offer you needless charity. Your pride could not take it, and I doubt you need charity, anyway. You are a good king, Thorin Oakenshield, and your people are lucky to have you," she said softly, her eyes shining at him.

Thorin swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. "Thank you, Lady Billa. Please," he paused, biting his lip. We are equals, he reminded himself, and felt his doubts melt away. "You have my permission to call me Thorin," he said. He was rewarded by a blinding smile.

"Please, Thorin," she said happily, "Just call me Billa."

"Billa," he nodded, pleased.

After a few more hours hammering out details and making plans, Thorin and Billa left the study, stomachs rumbling, and availed themselves of the pantry. Thorin groaned when he saw that his traveling companions had taken the last of the fine hobbit-wine he had enjoyed the night before.

"It's a pity," he confided to Billa, "That wine was absolutely delicious. Did you make it yourself?" he asked. Despite the hours of discussion, he felt more sociable and open than he had felt in years.

"Not I," she admitted, "My father made it. His apprentice, Halfast Gamgee, keeps me in supply now in exchange for the grapes from my vineyards," she explained. She chewed on her lip for a moment, eyeing him speculatively. Unconsciously, he stood a little taller, wondering what she was thinking.

"If I were to show you something..." she said slowly, "Could you keep it a secret from everyone in your party?" He snorted, almost affronted.

"Of course I could!" he said proudly.

She jabbed a finger at him. "I am holding you to that Thorin Oakenshield! And if I find more of my wine out and about, I'll know just whose hide to take it out of!" she said sharply. Then, when his face turned red with anger and confusion and he started to sputter at her, she shushed him. Him! Dismayed into temporary silence, he watched as she carefully pulled a hidden lever, and then the back wall of the pantry opened up like a door.

"Come on!" she whispered, "Before anyone sees!" He followed her in his most stealthy tread, his anger forgotten. The walls of this room were covered in shelves, all of them stocked with more food and there, against one wall, was a long row of wine barrels. He grinned at her, and she grinned back. She filled a flagon from one of the barrels, and both of them snuck back out of the pantry and into the kitchen, laughing as they went.

They feasted in the kitchen on wine and chicken pies, and as the sun started to sink, Billa had a crazy idea. "Do you want to go see the smials you'll be buying from me?" she asked.

Thorin chewed and swallowed. "That would be smart," he admitted. "I can assess the damage, and send word on what supplies we'll need, and let you know just what it will take to repair them. But not tonight," he said sharply, as she made to rise. She blushed and sank back down.

"I suppose it would be wiser to view them in the sunlight," she admitted easily. He took another swallow of wine.

"I think," he said, cocking his head thoughtfully, "That I should send Dis and the lads back to the mountain with official decrees from the agreements we've made here. Winter will be along in a couple months, and those smials will need to be livable. We'll need to start as soon as possible. I'll need to see the smials tomorrow morning, and then send off the others in the afternoon. Dis will govern in my absence, the stone workers will come post haste, and the elderly and young ones will have a month and a half to make their arrangements to come to us."

"Hmmm," Billa agreed. "Will Dwalin be staying or will it be Boris and Noris?" she asked. Thorin smirked at her.

"Dwalin will stay, though you'll be regretting that as soon as he starts your lessons," he teased her. She groaned.

"Ugh! Don't remind me!" They laughed for a few minutes before their minds drifted back to business.

"The road between Ered Luin and the Shire is going to become very popular," Billa mused. "It would be really handy if we could tell when there were dwarves coming this way, so I could prepare my stores and the bedrooms... "she said.

Thorin had a clever idea, and grabbed her hand to pull her back to the study, explaining as he went. "Have you heard of the beacons of Gondor and Rohan? The distance between them stretched over a mountain range, but they still found a way to communicate. The fires in one beacon are lit, and the others can see them from far away, and know to pass the message on."

He pointed at one of the maps. "The road to Ered Luin goes through Needle Point, a small range of hills on the western edge of the Shire. It's about two days walk from here, and you can see the mountain pass from your back porch. When my party leaves tomorrow, we should send a good map with them, and hopefully they can scout out a good place to establish safe camping grounds for the others to pass through on the way back here. If they can leave a trail and mark the way for others, it'll be much quicker travelling for all the dwarrow that will follow," Thorin said. "It'll be a tenday or a fortnight journey one way, as far as I can tell. As soon as the dwarrow reach Needle Point, they camp for the night and light a campfire that can be seen from across the Shire. We'll see it here if we check the back porch every night, and we'll know we have two more days to finish things before they arrive," Thorin explained, proud of himself. Billa was gazing at him with open admiration.

"That's a really clever idea, Thorin," she said admiringly, and the praise made him swell with pride and affection. Then her face cracked into a wide yawn, and Thorin was surprised to realize that the sun had set several hours ago. They quickly put the rest of their food and drink away, Billa hiding the wine in the kitchen and sending him a cheeky wink before they said goodnight in the hallway.

A great deal had been accomplished today, he reflected, and the next few days would bring even more progress. As Thorin sank down into his soft mattress, he was surprised to find that he had a smile on his face.

How odd, he thought pleasantly, My cheeks are aching. I don't think I've ever smiled so much in my whole life. That thought made him smile, too, and the smile stayed on his face long after he fell asleep.