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.

In the sparring/dancing scene, imagine something like a tango with lots of sharp, sudden movements followed by sweeping turns and spinning your partner in and out. And then add a staff and imagine trying to hit and trip up your partner while also trying to avoid being hit or tripped up, and still having to match your partner's moves. That is what Billa and Dwalin are doing here.

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 26

With the reassurance that Nori was keeping an eye on things, and Bifur had promised to send for her if there were any problems, Billa was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief and relax a little.

That morning, she sparred with Dwalin while Balin looked on, her walking stick against his axe. She always lost, but she was lasting longer and longer against his onslaught, and was starting to give him his own share of bruises to match hers.

Then there was the familiar giggle of approaching females and Balin laughed in his chair, deep, uproarious laughter, when he saw the spar turn into a dance lesson. Dwalin traded his axe for a staff, and Billa gained a skirt, and they continued to spin around each other with staves, but this time with a lot more spinning and moving together in a graceful but still mildly violent display.

"Very good, Lady Billa," Dwalin said in a grave voice while he spun her away, suddenly swiping his staff at her feet. She jumped gracefully over it as she swung her staff at his head. He ducked, and they landed and joined hands to continue the dance. Dwalin had really started to fill his role with relish and gusto, which Billa found particularly amusing. "You perform this native dance of my homeland particularly gracefully, Lady Billa. Would that my partners always had your skill," he said, as he dodged another swing from her staff.

Balin was still laughing, trying hard not to fall out of his chair.

Later, in the market, Billa reassured several hopeful girls that Mister Dwalin had arranged for dance teachers to come to the Shire, who would be able to help them improve so they could surprise and impress Mister Dwalin with the fact that they could dance his native dances, too.

"Of course, ladies, these dances are not easy to learn. His family is a family of strong, proud warriors, and many of these dances feature staffs or swords in a tribute to their culture," she said. "Mister Dwalin himself is considered an expert dancer, and his favorite dance features an ax," she informed them, and their eyes got huge.

"Mister Dwalin dances... with an axe?" one girl said, her lip trembling. Fearing that she had pushed them too quickly, but knowing it was too late to take it back, Billa could only nod and hope for the best.

"Mister Dwalin, Mister Dwalin!" they cried, as they turned away from her almost in unison and scampered towards him.

"Is it true, Mister Dwalin? Do you dance with an axe?"

"Is it heavy?"

"Of course it's heavy, but Mister Dwalin is so strong."

"He's so strong, I bet he could lift all of us!"

"Can you, Mister Dwalin?"

"Lift us, Mister Dwalin!"

"How big is your axe, Mister Dwalin?"

"Do you really dance with it?"

"Will you show us?"

"Yes, please Mister Dwalin?"

"Please!"

"Yes, please!"

Dwalin stared at them for a moment, and Billa laughed at the sight. There he was, the tall tattooed dwarf who towered head and sometimes shoulders around everyone else, surrounded by a gaggle of giggling girls who were probably a sixth of his age and they hung around him, clinging to his arms and reaching up to tug on his beard and taking all manner of liberties with his person.

Dwalin, who was able to take down a warg with a single swing of his axe, bore it all stoically and treated them gently, dislodging their fingers from his beard and patting their heads gently while they gazed adoringly up at him. He seemed to treat them more like a flock of frolicking puppies and less like a following of love-lorn admirers. Billa herself wasn't really sure which description was more accurate.

"You lasses really want to see me dance with my axe?" he asked them. "It's a fearsome sight, and I don't want to scare you," he told them gruffly. They cooed and nudged each other, pleased with his concern.

"We're not afraid!" they told him in a chorus, and he smiled bemusedly at them.

"Very well, lasses. If you come by Bag End just after afternoon tea, you'll see me practice dancing with an axe," he promised them. "Now go on, lasses, off with you," he jerked his chin to where most of their mothers were shopping, alternating between chatting and watching their daughters swarm the local hero indulgently. Still giggling amongst themselves, the girls skipped away, and Dwalin watched them go, still smiling.