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 25

Weeks had passed since Billa had become the Official Dwarves of Erebor Liaison of the Shire, and she had accomplished a great deal.

The three abandoned smials were now her property, and she had hired crews of hard-working hobbits to clear out the mud and clean up as much as they could. She sent Dwalin and Thorin on a field trip to Michael Delving to see the quarry there, and when the stone there was deemed suitable, she made arrangements for its delivery. Everything would be ready for when the stonemasons arrived. Some of the rooms in the smials were still livable, and she would be making tents available to all of the workers, wherever they chose to sleep. However, there was no bedding or furniture or cookware to be had in any of the smials, and Billa had a plan to change that.

She had been flaunting Dwalin as much as possible, and they were often seen down in the market or playing with fauntlings or having dancing lessons on the hillside. She had taken to arranging little accidents, where a herd of pigs would be set on a stampede near the younglings, or one girl in a giggling gaggle of hobbit lasses would unfortunately trip and sprain her ankle, etc. Dwalin was always on hand to save the day, and was becoming widely known as something of a hero. At first, he had fumed at her, but when she had pointedly eyed his growing collection of handkerchiefs, he had reluctantly allowed her shenanigans to continue.

Finally, when she started getting callers at Bag End who specifically asked to see Dwalin, and invited him to dinner and other exploits, she deemed the time was right.

While Thorin was in the forge and Dwalin was off on a hunting trip with some of the younger lads (who had started to look up to him with something approaching hero worship after he had offered to teach a few of them the secret to his popularity with the ladies), Billa arranged for a party of hobbitwives at Bag End. The invitees ranged from wealthy to poor. They all had two things in common, though. First was that, despite the disparity of wealth between them, each hobbit there was respectable and very well thought of. The second was that they all shared a fervent admiration for the dwarf named Dwalin.

After a half hour of pleasant mingling and delicious food, Billa trotted out the big guns.

"My dear, dear friends," she began, and the room slowly quieted as all eyes turned to focus on her. She was wearing her best dress, re-made with a dash of dwarven influence and her trusty walking stick was at her side. "I have called you here because Mister Dwalin is in trouble, and he needs your help." Gasps and disbelieving noises were made throughout the room. Mister Dwalin in trouble? Oh no! Whatever can we do? Oh, poor Mister Dwalin!

"Mister Dwalin has decided that he likes the Shire so much, he wants to stay here, and-" she motioned with her hands, acknowledging the sudden rush of cheers and giggles throughout the room, "-And, he has family and friends that he would like to bring to the Shire as well."

Here, she had to fend off several questions. He doesn't have a wife, does he? Does he have brothers? Or cousins! Will they all be as strong as Mister Dwalin? Or as tall! Oooh!

"Ladies, ladies, please!" Billa called, and they slowly came back to order. "Mister Dwalin is unmarried with a white-haired older brother named Balin, but most importantly, he has a very large extended family, but most of them live in considerable danger," she said, and a hush fell throughout the room.

"He has recognized the hospitality of the Shire, and is sending word that the elderly and young families will be safe in the Shire, and to come as soon as they can. I've arranged with Mister Dwalin for the purchase of the three abandoned smials that were devastated by the mudslide some years back. Mister Dwalin is sending a crew of strong, clever craftsmen to rebuild them, and as you know we've had our own husbands and sons out there clearing away the mud. That is where Mister Dwalin's extended family will stay. They will be arriving in a few weeks, but alas! There will be no beds, or chairs, or tables, or even a table cloth in a single room in those smials." Gasps of dismay echoed through the room.

"Is that the kind of welcome we want to send to the friends and family of Mister Dwalin?" Billa asked, and a resounding chorus of No. Of course not! Oh goodness me. echoed through the room.
"My dear friends," Billa said again, "I called you here because you are important, clever, and utterly respectable ladies, and if there is any body in the land who can arrange a wonderful welcome for Mister Dwalin's family, I believe it is this body here before me!" she said, and a cheer went up.

Soon, bake sales and knitting competitions and all manner of things were being planned, with profits and products to go to the previously homeless and hungry dwarves of Erebor. The spare rooms at Bag End will stuffed to bursting with blankets, furniture, cutlery and all manner of house-warming presents. Billa was certain that when the dwarves arrived, they would be blown away by the generosity of the hobbits.

Thorin himself oscillated between being impressed at the results and aghast at the charity. However, every time he started to complain to Billa she somehow twisted the conversation around and started talking about something completely different instead, like stories from Fili and Kili's little dwarfhood, or embarrassing stories about Dwalin. Those she especially savored, holding them close until the time came for blackmail. She and Thorin would laugh and talk for hours, and only after they had said goodnight would Thorin remember that he wanted to object to all this charity. He would approach her with that in mind the next day, only to be deflected again and drawn into conversation, his concerns forgotten.

Dwalin was handling all this attention extremely well. His steady character and level head ensured that there were no fights over his attention, as he was polite, if gruff, and never made any promises or raised expectations. He also, after a through explanation of courting habits in the Shire, was meticulously sure to never damage any reputations, or put up with any cruel gossip among his fans. He had become a heart-throb, but he was a kind one.

He was also easy to convince into giving group 'dancing' lessons. He would start the girls and lads off, tsk a little at their endurance, and send them off to do laps or pushups or any manner of exercise, and slowly their stamina increased. He already had an eye on several of the more promising and open-minded students, which he planned to slowly integrate into an advanced class of sorts, where he would start to teach them better reflexes and eventually train them in the swords Thorin was forging.


Amidst all this change, the stone-masons from Ered Luin finally arrived. Billa was terrified that something would go wrong, a fight or a thoughtless word that could bring all the inter-species goodwill they had built up crashing down around their ears, but Dwalin and Thorin took pains to ensure all would be well. After the night they saw firelight on Needle Point, Dwalin and Thorin rode out together to meet the incoming dwarves.

Billa didn't know what was said or threatened, but she did know that these new craftsmen were on their best behavior, and were some of the most polite dwarves she had ever seen in her life. They all bowed low to her, when they met her, calling her "Lady Billa," and eyeing with wonder the braid and bead in her hair. She wondered what Dis and the others had told them.

Balin had come with the dwarves, and after Thorin and Dwalin enthusiastically introduced her, she insisted that he stay with them in Bag End instead of down in the open by the smials. She entertained him on the way back with tales of Dwalin's heroics, and took great pleasure in the disbelief on Balin's face and the pink in Dwalin's cheeks. She made Balin as comfortable as she could, knowing that he was getting on in years. She guided all three of them to the study, where she had made sure there was an arrangement of comfortable chairs, as many maps as she had and as much parchment and ink as she could muster, as well as a platter filled with wine and a decadent arrangement of sandwiches and sweetmeats. Balin groaned in appreciation as he sunk into a deep armchair by the desk, and complimented her profusely on her hospitality.

"I'm sure I've never felt more comfortable and welcome in my life, Lady Billa, than I do right at this very moment. You are certainly a perfect host, and these old bones thank you," he said, smiling kindly at her. She blushed, and then politely took her leave, leaving the dwarves in the study to catch up and make their own plans. She rode down to the smials to ensure all was going smoothly, and it was a good thing she did!

The hobbits who were still down there clearing out mud and the dwarves who had just arrived to rebuild the walls were arguing about who was to work when and where, and Billa, seeing trouble coming, charged in.

Now, Billa didn't know this, but she was starting to cut quite a figure amongst both the dwarves and the hobbits. To the hobbits, her metal-enhanced, ever-present walking stick, the bead in her hair and the new dwarven style in her clothes were almost as imposing as the new confidence in her bearing and the charisma and certainty she exuded. She had gone from a shy, quiet shut-in to a power-house of influence with the ear of the Thain, and after the shock had passed, she was looked up to and admired. She almost certainly would have been considered un-respectable for her choice in companions, except that she had endeared her companions to the whole of the Shire, and for every one hobbit who scorned her, there were four who came to her defense.

Among the dwarves, she was certainly a curiosity. A beautiful lass with her beard on her feet, who had lost her family to violence as many among them had, a princess among her people and yet bearing the bead of dwarven royalty in her hair, and laboring with all her influence to make them welcome in her homeland. As she charged in on a white pony, wearing a deep purple gown of obvious quality, the bead in her hair glinted warningly at them, and everyone quickly fell silent, waiting her judgment.

She didn't bother to dismount, preferring the authority that height often lent her.

"Good folk," she called, sharply bringing them to order, "I see we have only borne each other's company for an hour at most, and yet problems have arisen. I am most disappointed," she said. Many of the hobbits hung their heads, and despite her being fairly unknown to the dwarves, whatever Dis, Thorin and Dwalin had told them seemed to work, for many of them looked down as well, avoiding her eyes.

"Whatever the problem is, let us solve it. Who speaks for this fine work crew of dwarrow?" she asked, her eyes peering through the crowds around her. A familiar pair of dwarves stepped forward, and a smile burst on her lips.

"Mister Bifur and Mister Bofur?" she asked. They nodded, astounded that she knew their names, and later she would pretend that someone in Bag End had mentioned them, and they would be so pleased that dwarves close to the King knew their names, and she would feel guilty.

"Gentleman, how long will it take you to determine exactly what is needed on each smial?" she asked, and they drew near to answer her, Bofur translating for Bifur and eyeing her strangely when she didn't seem to blink an eye at Bifur's forehead or his obviously garbled speech. While she listened to Bofur, she made sure to speak to both of them, and it quickly earned her a cautious smile from Bifur, which she returned readily.

Finally, she had things organized. Hobbits would continue cleaning two of the three smials while the third was evaluated by the dwarves. When the evaluation was done, the dwarves would move to the next smial and the hobbits would clean the one they had just left. Thankfully, this would be the last day the hobbit work-force would be needed, and then the dwarves would have the work-site to themselves.

She spent the rest of the day at the work-site, answering questions, and soothing ruffled feathers. When Bofur was busy for a moment, she carefully drew Bifur aside.

"Mister Bifur, hobbits pride themselves on their hospitality and being courteous hosts. Since all of you have come to repair the smials that I currently own, that means that you are my guests and under my protection. I would be very, very poorly thought of if I allowed any guest of mine to go hungry, or be cold, or do without necessary tools. It could create a scandal, and that's the last thing we need right now. I plead with you, Mister Bifur, if there is anything that you need or that you see is needed here at this work-site, or anyone gets into any kind of trouble, please send for me," she said, clutching one of his large hands in both of hers. He was staring at her, probably surprised at her ready acceptance of him and the way she confided in him.

"Please, Mister Bifur, will you promise to send for me?" she implored him. After a few moments of hesitation, his pride warring with his understanding of her reputation, but finally he nodded, patting her hands kindly. She beamed at him.

"Thank you Mister Bifur! Thank you!" she said happily, squeezing his large hand. He smiled back at her, and an understanding was born.

Bofur, for all his outward friendliness, was a little slipperier to deal with. He smiled and joked gently with her, but he never seemed to let his guard down. It was a little hurtful, but she decided that all she could do was give it time. Then, she spotted Bombur, away from the crowd, cooking up a storm by the fire, and she couldn't help but make her way over to see him.

"Mister Bombur," she said quickly, as he only barely could spare her a glance, "I am an expert dicer and slicer of vegetables. May I offer my assistance?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, of course," he replied vaguely, gesturing to a pile of potatoes. "Skins on, and dice them," he said. She hid a fond smile as she diced the potatoes, knowing that he would probably be embarrassed when the rush was over and he realized exactly who he had set to dicing his potatoes. Still, he had been her friend and they had spent many hours cooking over the fire together, and she would do all she could to set him at ease.

Forty minutes later, her fingers were numb from gripping the knife so tightly, but she had finished dicing everything Bombur directed her to. He, too, was finished, and four huge cauldrons of stew were bubbling merrily, while fourteen pans of bread were baking slowly.

Bombur mopped the sweat from his brow and finally turned to her. "Thank you very much, Miss...?" he asked. She had swept the braid over her shoulder, out of sight so as not to give him a heart attack.

"Miss Billa, Mister Bombur." Her precautions were for nothing, for when he heard her name, he paled and took a step back. She continued as if she hadn't seen this reaction at all. "Thank you for letting me assist in cooking this fine meal, Mister Bombur. Hobbits take hospitality very seriously, and it's been weighing heavily on my mind that I couldn't feed you all out of my own kitchen or house you all in my smial. Being able to assist such an obviously excellent cook in providing dinner has helped to ease my conscience. May I come down again sometime and help?" she asked sweetly.

Bombur's already red cheeks darkened even further at her praise. "Of- of course, Lady Billa," he said nervously, wringing his hands. "Whatever you wish."

That was not the reaction she was looking for. Why couldn't she get him to smile? She decided to try smarter, not harder. "In fact, Mister Bombur," she said quietly, glancing around and coming nearer, "I've been having a little bit of trouble in my own kitchen." She made a shushing gesture, and he gave a serious nod. He would keep this a secret until his deathbed, she thought, from the look he was giving her. "I've made a variety of hobbit dishes, and my guests seem to be very appreciative, but I have absolutely no experience in making popular dwarvish dishes, and I would very much like to learn. It would only be polite, you understand, to have such familiar foods available."

Bombur nodded quickly. As an experienced cook, he did understand.

Billa continued. "I know you're a very busy dwarf, Mister Bombur, and only a chef of your caliber could possibly prepare these large, delicious meals for such an enormous group, but if ever you were to find the time, I would love to learn." This, it seemed, was finally the right thing to say. He beamed at her.

"Of course, Lady Billa. Anytime you want to come down here and observe or even," he hesitated, "or even help, you are more than welcome," he said, nodding firmly, and Billa beamed at him. She took his hand and shook it, amused when his grip was as gentle as he could possibly make it.

"I'm so glad to hear that, Mister Bombur! Thank you," she said, and as she went away, they were both smiling.


Having done all she could for the dwarves that day, and knowing that Bag End was full of dwarves who were probably still catching up with each other, Billa decided to take a tour of some of the pubs in the area, and see what people were thinking.

She would walk in, listen for a half hour or two, and even buy a few rounds before she left. She left the first two pubs to the sound of cheers, but when she entered the Green Dragon, it was very quiet, and she knew something was up.

There was a hooded figure in the corner, and a ten-foot radius around him where hobbits refused to sit. The hobbits were all casting nervous looks at the figure, and when Billa entered, various looks of relief crossed the room. Taking the hint that there was a problem and they wanted her to deal with it, Billa called for a round, for herself and the figure, and the entire room. She sat down across the table from him as the server brought two ales over, and the mysterious figure's features came into view.

His beard was long, dark red coming to three points, each point with a long metal bead at the end. And then he looked up, and Billa couldn't resist a smile. Nori, thief, trouble-maker, and future Spymaster of Erebor, had come to the Shire.

"Can I help you, Miss?" he asked gruffly, obviously preferring to be left alone. She pretended he meant it sincerely.

"Mister Nori, you are a man of many skills," she said softly, keeping her voice down. Seeing her engage the stranger had soothed the other hobbits and their conversations had risen to a comfortable hum, but she did not want to be overheard. "I would like to hire you," she said.

His face purpled, and he hissed at her. "I am no thief for hire, and I will not be treated as one!" he said, and it was only because she knew him so well that she recognized shame and hurt in his eyes.

"Mister Nori," she said placatingly, "My fingers are light enough that should I need a thief, I don't need to hire one." She put a dwarven coin purse on the table in front of them. He stared at it, eyes narrowed, and subtly shifted a hand to check his belt. Indeed, that was his own coin purse that Billa had carefully lifted as she came over. He glared at her, suspicious.

"What I need," she continued, "is to ensure that relations between dwarves and hobbits remain peaceful, and that each party involved has all their needs met. I need to know about conflicts before they happen, so I can engineer a peaceful solution." She held his gaze for a few moments. "Are you available for hire under these circumstances?" she asked.

He glared at her, still mistrustful but also just a little bit intrigued. "I'm listening," he said begrudgingly.

She nodded. "May I have your word that, should you decline to join my employ, you will keep what you learn from me in confidence?" she asked gravely.

"If you mean to plot against the king-" he said angrily, and she shook her head quickly.

"Thorin Oakenshield is your highest authority, and I respect that," she said. "That is as it should be. My plans are for his benefit and he has knowledge of," she wobbled a hand in a 50-50 gesture, "most of them. If you wish, we may adjourn to my lodgings and continue this interview with him present," she offered.

He stared at her, judging her worth and her integrity with angry eyes that had seen a very hard life. She bore them patiently.

"That won't be necessary," he said finally. Billa nodded. "Perhaps you can explain what's been going on around here. I keep hearing stories about Dwalin, Defender of the Weak and Protector of the Innocent," he snorted derisively.

Billa grinned. "That was one of my better plans," she admitted, keeping her voice down. The hobbits around them were finally at full-volume, but she eyed them carefully, falling quiet if anyone came too near, and Nori did the same. "Hobbits are rarely accepting of outsiders, especially scary looking ones. Dwalin's the scariest dwarf I've ever seen, so I knew that if I could get hobbits to accept him, other dwarves would easily follow. So I made him into something of a folk hero. He staged a lot of rescues, I told a lot of gossip, and now he's a favorite," she said.

"Hm," Nori said shortly. "And what other plans are there to come?"

Billa grinned. "The most important thing is that I know about conflicts before they happen," she repeated. "Today at the work-site, the dwarves had been there for less than an hour before there was a full-blown shouting match between the two work forces, and I had to wade in to sort things out. You dwarves have had a rough life, traveling far and enduring a lot of difficulties and suffering. You are proven warriors who have done hard things to survive," she said. Nori nodded, grimly.

"Hobbits, on the other hand," she continued, "have lived here in the Shire, in plenty and in ease, for all their lives and their parents' lives. The only hardship we have faced in this generation was the Fell Winter of 2911, when the river froze and goblins and wolves came in raiding parties. We were already starving from the long winter, but they would rip into homes and drag out the occupants, leaving horrifying remains," she explained. "That was twelve years ago, and nothing has changed since then. We still have no weapons, eschew outsiders, and know nothing of defense. We are terribly vulnerable, and we deliberately refuse to think of it. Our entire lives consist of gardening, parties, food, and gossip," she said. Nori was eyeing her thoughtfully.

"The problem," she said, "is how these two very different groups will react when conflict comes, as it surely will. I have several plans to... manufacture a little bit of trouble, and have dwarves come to the rescue in order to cement their image as protectors and good people to have around," she said. "I'm hoping to circumvent any unknown difficulties and keep things peaceful between our peoples. Is that something you can help me with, Mister Nori?" she asked.

He stroked his beard-braids thoughtfully. "Tell me more about this 'manufactured' trouble you have in mind," he said.

"I'm not sure if you've heard," she said, "but I first met Mister Kili in Bree, when a group of Men were attacking him for being on the wrong side of town. If such a group of men were to suddenly find themselves in the Shire, near the work-site, on a day when the ladies of the Shire were visiting to provide food and a party, and the dwarves were to defend them..." she trailed off, shrugging lightly.

"It's very much like what I did for Mister Dwalin. I made messes, and he starred as the hero who fixed them. A few incidents like that would be very helpful in keeping the goodwill of the Shire with the dwarves of Erebor," she finished.

"What's the pay like?" he asked. She inclined her head.

"I am very flexible, Mister Nori. I can pay you in gold, or goods, or services, and I'm open to negotiation," she informed him. He pursed his lips and stared at her for a few moments.

"I have a younger brother, not much of a warrior, wants to become a scribe and needs a teacher," he said shortly.

"A teacher in what, exactly?" she asked. He shrugged roughly. "Writing, story-telling, drawing, languages if you can manage that," he said. "Can you find him one?" he asked.

"Mister Nori, in exchange for your aid in my plans and your information, I will take your brother for three days a week and teach him everything I know about stories, writing, and languages. I'm afraid I'm no good for drawing, but I'm willing to let him practice and admire his art work, or even commission a few pieces from him if he's talented," she offered.

He looked her up and down, conveying his skepticism of her suitability as a teacher without saying a word. She laughed. "If, after one month, your brother is not satisfied, I will do my best to find him a substitute or we can renegotiate payment," she offered, and he nodded.

"Very well, Lady Billa," he said, sweeping into a bow that was partly mockery and partly sincere. That seemed to be Nori's natural state, and she had missed it. "My brothers will be arriving with the other caravans. I will ensure that you are introduced to Ori when they arrive. In the meantime, when are your ladies going to be going to visit the work-site?" he asked.

Billa grinned, and together they got down to business.