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 28
After afternoon tea, a small crowd was swelling around the front porch of Bag End. Rumors of Dwalin's axe dancing had spread, and hobbits of all ages had come to see the spectacle.
Billa put on a party dress, and Dwalin and Thorin put on some of the clothes Billa had had tailored for them. They were a little hobbitish in nature, white shirts, suspenders and brown trousers, along with their boots. Billa thought it would help make a good impression, and she was right. As soon as their little party exited Bag End, there was a huge cheer. Balin, who had been smoking on the front porch, looked interested and amused.
Billa and Dwalin started with staves, spinning and striking and Billa followed Dwalin's lead. It was her best display yet, and the hobbits were suitably impressed. After several minutes, the dance ended when Billa didn't manage to dodge one of Dwalin's swings. He stopped it before it struck her, and they both froze, and then Billa slumped and went to sit beside Balin, the picture of disappointment.
"Don't worry, lass," Dwalin reassured her in front of the crowd. "You're coming along quite nicely." Billa perked up and smiled at him, and the hobbits smiled too. Even when he -won?- the dance, Mister Dwalin was a perfect gentleman. They had all expected nothing less.
"But what about your axe, Mister Dwalin?" came an anxious female cry, and the question was quickly taken up by the rest of the hobbits.
Dwalin bellowed a laugh. "Are you sure I've not scared you off, my friends?" He called, and there was a quick cry of No! Of course not, Mister Dwalin!
Dwalin's lips twisted into a menacing little grin, the grin he got before battle. This little display was not so unlike the crowds that gathered around the training grounds in Ered Luin, except that here, the crowd would probably faint at the sight of blood. "Very well, my friends," he said. "May I introduce my dance partner, Mister Thorin Oakenshield?" There was a chorus of cheers, and then the two dwarves hefted their axes, and the hobbits went a little pale.
They had expected hatchets, actually, or wooden training axes like the staves Mister Dwalin had used with Miss Billa. These were no training or wooden cudgels. These were huge, heavy, intricate and dangerous-looking double-bladed axes, the likes of which the hobbits had never seen before. They stared for a moment, uncertain. Would Mister Dwalin be all right? was the thought that crossed their minds in a flurry. Then they saw the way the dance started, and their amazement overwhelmed their worry.
Thorin and Dwalin faced each other, each holding an axe in their right hand. They started by tossing the ax up into the air, and catching it as it came down, their feet tapping in a steady rhythm. Then they started to add spins as they threw, still keeping in time with each other. The hobbits gasped, mesmerized (and terrified) by the way the spinning blades glinted in the sun. The dwarves hefted them as if they weighed nothing, and the thin hobbit-shirts the two dwarrow wore made it easy to see each muscle flex. Then, after they had added three spins, and then another three, and the axes seemed to be spinning wheels of death, they started moving. They caught their axes, and then Thorin swung at Dwalin, and Dwalin leapt over the ax, throwing his own swing. They went on this way, and it was beautiful to watch.
Balin and Billa knew that in a normal spar, there would be much clashing of metal, sparks flying and even the occasional spray of blood. Seeing as that would totally traumatize their audience, Thorin and Dwalin never deflected each other's blows, merely evading them as gracefully as they could. Being experienced warriors, their movements blurred until the hobbits were hardly sure who they were seeing, or where the axes would swing next. It was a completely mesmerizing display, and this dance of evasion lasted for twenty minutes until, at an indistinguishable signal, the dwarves began to slow again, adding elaborate tosses to the axes once more, even tossing them to each other, spinning them back and forth, catching them out of the air and sending them flying back at the owner.
Finally, they came to the grand finale, and Thorin tossed his axe to Dwalin and quickly stepped over to join Billa on the bench, and Dwalin took center stage, juggling both axes and tossing them easily into the air, spinning them at the same time, whirling them around his body in a complicated and truly impressive pattern. Then, one after another, he snatched them out of the air and, quick as lightning, the axes vanished out of his hands and seemed to disappear into thin air. Dwalin stood stock still, hands spread wide towards the audience, and then he bowed, and the hobbits exploded into thunderous applause.
After reassuring themselves that Mister Dwalin's amazing display had left him unharmed, Dwalin's fan club fluttered around him, offering him water or to use their handkerchiefs to wipe his brow, did he need to sit down? After he laughingly reassured them that he was fine, they immediately began chirping and cooing over his performance.
"Oh my, Mister Dwalin, that was amazing!"
"Yes, incredible!"
"I've never seen anything like it, Mister Dwalin!"
"Nor I, Mister Dwalin!"
"How do you do it, Mister Dwalin?"
"The axes look so heavy!"
"I'm sure I could never be so fast or strong as that, Mister Dwalin," one dark-haired lass said bashfully.
"Nonsense, Lily," Dwalin said calmly. "I've had decades of practice to get where I am, and with careful training, you could do the same."
The girls bounced in excitement at such a wild idea. Them, learn how to dance with an AXE? Oh, how exciting it would be. Then Lily sagged sadly.
"If only that were possible, Mister Dwalin," Lily said dejectedly. "My parents would never let me practice with such a dangerous thing." As one, the girls drooped, reality crashing in on them with dream-crushing force.
Dwalin scoffed. "You think I started learning with an ax?" He actually had, but there was no need for any of them to know that. Balin, who often like to tease that Dwalin had been born with an axe in his hand, made to open his mouth and share this story and Billa had to elbow him sharply back into silence before he ruined the moment. Balin blushed a little and went back to listening.
"I started just the way I've been training Lady Billa- with a stave of wood. As you saw earlier, Lady Billa's improving a great deal, and in time she could be as fast as I am," Dwalin told his admirers.
"If only we had someone to teach us," one of the girls said slyly, giggling as Dwalin turned his attention on her.
"Well, Little Jenny, some of my kin who will be arriving in a month's time have offered to teach dancing lessons for a small fee from anyone who wants to learn," he said, and that news, and descriptions of the spectacle which inspired it, was taken up like a wildfire and spread all throughout the Shire.
It was odd, Balin mused, to see how much Thorin and Dwalin had changed in the few months since he had seen them. Months ago, Thorin had been just as he'd been since the loss of Erebor and his father and grandfather: bitter, brittle, angry, and as hard as stone. He'd been laboring away, trying to put food on the tables of his dwarves, and helpless to do anything when bandits, raiders, orcs, sickness, and death conspired to take even more from them. He'd done everything he could to take care of his people, and when it just wasn't enough, he would sink a little further into despair, and it had broken Balin's heart to watch.
Dwalin had been much the same, hardened and toughened until Balin hardly recognized him. He'd followed his king, guarding his back and buoying him up where he could, but he could only do so much, and seeing his efforts fail left him feeling as helpless as Thorin did. Those two lads had leaned on each other, descending further into hopelessness, trusting only a few because so many had betrayed them.
Here, in the Shire, it was as if they had gone back to their carefree youth, before the Fall of Erebor. Balin had expected to meet the grim warriors that he had said goodbye to months ago, and instead met with smiling, laughing friends who had cheerfully regaled him with stories as they rode into the Shire together. And then the hobbit, plying him with wine and seating him in the most comfortable chair he'd ever experienced, offering refreshments before going off to oversee the work-site so they could share their news unrestrained.
That Thorin had trusted the hobbit to oversee the work-site was itself incredible. Thorin's trust was incredibly difficult to gain, and the hobbit lass had managed it in a couple of months? Balin was astonished.
Thorin, seeing his astonishment, had said that she was a princess of the Shire, as if that explained things. Dwalin had snorted at that, and shot him a sly wink as he nodded towards Thorin. Balin took a moment to process what he meant, and rejected the first idea that came to mind. Thorin, have feelings for the lass? he scoffed. Impossible.
Dwalin gave him a knowing look and a shrug, as if to tell him to wait and see. Throughout the discussion, Balin had to admit that the impossible idea was starting to make more and more sense, and worse, he could easily understand why.
This lass had taken them in, and had offered them shelter, food, and belonging without insulting or trying to take advantage of them. When Thorin explained more about the plans for the young and the elderly, Balin almost fell off his chair.
Long it had galled them that each winter they lost so many and there was so little they could do about it. What this hobbit offered in exchange for some swords, shields, and rent money was a way to keep the most vulnerable members of their race alive, with their pride and families intact. She offered blankets and supplies to keep the rest of them alive, too. She offered lucrative trade to help them increase their wealth, and the hope of a future alliance, and as Balin eyed the subtle new plumpness in Thorin's and Dwalin's cheeks, the flush to their skin and the faint smiles on their lips, Balin knew that the suffering of his people was almost over.
A new age was coming. Thanks to a chance meeting with a hobbit princess in Bree, it had already begun.
Later, when he watched the hobbit scheme and fuss behind closed doors about gossip and stories and displays, he thought she was a little mad, but then she invited him to watch their training session. He was impressed at her growing skill against his brother, but when he heard a group come up the way, he was amazed to see Dwalin hide his beloved axes and take up a stave, and the hobbit lass threw a skirt on over her leather training trousers. And then, they had started to dance!
At first he had laughed at the hilarity of it. His brother, Dwalin, dancing with a hobbit in front of a group of his young admirers. He had been close enough to hear their whispered comments about how Dwalin was so tall, and so strong, and so fast, and so brave, and wasn't his beard so handsome? He had snorted then and almost fallen off his chair, he was laughing so hard.
Later, though, he was surprised to find that it had worked and there was to be another demonstration, this time by Thorin and Dwalin with axes. He had thought it would be a normal spar, with blood and shouted curses and bruises. However, Dwalin and Thorin started to dance too! He had watched the display of skill, pretty as it was, and wondered how on earth this tame play-act was going to inspire the hobbits to war-training?
To his amazement, immediately after the display ended, Dwalin was swarmed with admiring young girls and his brother, who had long been as hard-hearted as a rock, had called them each by name, answered their questions, and encouraged them to train. As soon as the news that there would be teachers coming made the rounds, he saw girls and lads signing up to learn, each saying that they wanted to be as graceful and strong as Dwalin.
Then he realized what Billa had known all along. This wasn't to inspire the hobbits to take up war-training and become a conquering race. They never would be as war-like and fierce as the dwarves. All they could do was strengthen them and change a little of their culture, ingrain this skill of war-dancing so that in the future, if ever war came to the Shire, they would have the skills to survive.
Balin spent the evening in the room he shared with his brother, considering all that he had learned. He had been highly impressed by all that was going on here, but one thing disturbed him, deeply. One thing that weighed heavily on his mind and made him doubt this future between Dwarves and Hobbits. It concerned the last family he had in the world, his own little brother. If such a thing could affect Dwalin, tough and strong and unyielding Dwalin, what hope did the rest of them have? Was this alliance, promising as it was, such a good thing in light of this new information? He spent hours waiting for Dwalin and worrying over this frightening new development. Finally, when Dwalin came in near midnight, Balin made his concerns known.
"Brother," Balin said gravely, "Why on earth do you have so many handkerchiefs?"
