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 32
When Lori first introduced him to the elf, Nori decided to focus on picking the locks first and reminding his little sister about appropriate friendships later. Then, Lori told him that the elf had given Lori her share of food, and had protected her from the displeasure of their captors whenever they tried to escape. He eyed the elf then, noting the bruises on its cheeks and the blood on her clothes. He glanced between the two girls then, noting how his sister was completely unharmed in comparison. Between the two, the elf was definitely the worse for wear.
He might not trust the creature half as far as he could throw it (and Nori was sure he could throw it pretty far), but he was an honorable dwarf in his own way, no matter what others might assume, and since a debt had been incurred, he would pay it. Afterwards, he'd ask Billa to get rid of the elf before Lori got any more attached. Sure, she'd just been through a traumatizing experience, but that was no reason to lose her head. Nori was sure he would feel a lot better about the entire situation if Lori would just stop holding its hand!
He sighed, and the last of the elf's manacles finally came off. Keeping a wary eye on the elfling that was trying to corrupt his sister, he moved to the other dwarfling, Gimli. Like Lori, he was sitting much closer to the elfling than was strictly necessary, even casting it concerned looks that the scowl on his still-beardless face couldn't quite disguise. Nori was perhaps rougher with his manacles than he needed to be, but really, who could blame him? The whole thing was simply intolerable.
The hobbits were next, but they thankfully were ignoring the others completely as they huddled together, exhausted but relieved. Their restraints were taken care of fairly quickly, and then Nori was back to thinking about Lori and the elf.
He griped to himself, even as he took medical supplies from Billa and had to- had to-. He didn't even want to think about it.
Even when the elf was finally bandaged, Lori wouldn't leave its side.
"Nori," she said solemnly, "Lithir doesn't have a mother or a father anymore, just like us. But, she doesn't have any brothers or sisters, either, and that's not fair. I told her she could share you and Dori and Ori with me, and we would take care of her."
Nori felt his right eye twitching, and repressed the urge to scream. This was not supposed to happen at all! Ugh, Why hadn't Dori kept a better eye on Lori? All of this was Dori's fault, Nori was sure. First, he'd probably mother-henned Lori until she wanted nothing more than to sneak away, and then, his mother-henning must have slipped for long enough that Lori had actually made her escape. It was all Dori's fault. Soon, she'd be wanting to swear off meat and climb trees and use a bow and do all sorts of freakish elfy things, and it could all be traced back to Dori!
"Nori?" Lori said, breaking through his thoughts. With a sigh, Nori cast about for something non-committal to say.
"Let's get you on a pony," he settled on finally. "It's a long ride back."
Despite his best efforts, Lori spent the ride chattering to or about the elf, even as she clung to him. Even when they arrived at camp, it didn't stop. He lay down, and Lori and it snuggled together against one side, while Gimli slept next to the other.
"Goodnight, Lithir. Goodnight, Nori," Lori said.
"Goodnight Lori, goodnight, Mister Nori, goodnight, Gimli," the creature said in that high, musical voice. Nori cringed. It was disgusting.
Nori didn't fall asleep for a very, very long time.
Balin spent the night re-evaluating his opinion of the hobbit once again.
She was a tough thing, more ruthless than he'd thought she'd be. In the Shire, she had very much retained her hobbit sensibilities, observing the niceties and playing the hostess to the King and his retinue. She seemed dainty and delicate, like all the halflings.
Out here, though, she seemed to shed those sensibilities like a second skin, acting more like a dwarrow queen than a hobbit princess. She'd carved up the rabbit like an expert, easily dispensing the offal and swallowing her own portion with nary a flinch. He'd seen hobbits faint at the sight of a nosebleed, and she was able to swallow down raw meat without flickering an eye?
Then, she'd been absolutely ruthless in her suggestions for the battle. Balin had thought at first that she was just talk, but then Dwalin had told him how she'd slit the throat of a slaver in the camp to ensure their safe escape. It wasn't just tough talk from this female, oh no. She was prepared to back up her ideals with action.
Dwalin had only been training her for weeks, less than two months. For her to go from inexperienced damsel to cold-blooded killer was... off-putting, to say the least. She'd not puked after the battle, either, like every fighter did after the first time they'd spilled blood. She'd been a little nauseous, but only after putting a man's head on a spear like some gruesome trophy. That was hardly hobbit-behavior, either.
No matter what she said, Balin was convinced that this was not the first time she'd killed. According to Dwalin, she'd never even had a real fight before, and yet supposedly, she's able to kill a near-defenseless man without a single hesitation? She had witnessed her parents killed, though. Perhaps she had seen what hesitation could do in a fight? Or maybe halflings were not nearly so innocent as they appeared.
She'd appeared so suddenly. She appears mysteriously to rescue the prince from a gang, willing to risk her life for a total stranger. The very next day, Kili and Fili both seemed to be wrapped around her finger, and Thorin and Dis soon followed. It was unsettling how quickly they had accepted her. Only a few weeks later, agreements and alliances are being forged to impact their entire wandering nation.
Balin liked the hobbit. Usually, he and Dwalin never liked the same people, Thorin being the exception who was tugged between them. Balin was a diplomat who preferred negotiation and had seen enough bloodshed so as to want to avoid it when possible. Dwalin was a blood-thirsty warrior who decided to fight now and ask questions later. Or never. That Billa was well-liked by every dwarf she met, right away, seemed impossible. She had a gift of seeming so genuinely fond of people, even though they had just met. If it was an act, it was a very, very good one.
Thorin's eyes seemed to follow her everywhere. At this very moment, his King was curled around her, sharing his fur mantle, and letting her use his body as both pillow and blanket. He could be holding a serpent to his breast for all Balin knew, and Balin was very afraid of what would happen to his people if Billa turned out to be treacherous.
And yet, she'd been genuinely concerned for Thorin. After the fight, her eyes had searched and searched until they settled on Thorin, and that's where they stayed. He was the first person she looked to when entering a room, and she smiled each time she saw him. If Balin wasn't so suspicious, he would think that she returned Thorin's feelings, but Balin didn't know how to reconcile that notion with the disparities in her. Either she was hiding something, or she had somehow naturally become the most perfect dwarrow queen Balin could imagine.
Maybe he was being paranoid. Even as he watched and worried, they were both smiling in their sleep, Billa tucked neatly into Thorin's side, her hands tangled around one of his arms. If not for his worries, it would be one of the sweetest pictures he had ever seen.
But his doubts swarmed inside his head like bats, and as the night gave way to dawn, Balin waited, and he wondered, and he watched.
Dwalin was resting on his back, with his arms outstretched. Three hobbits clustered around him, pressing close for comfort and reassurance. They were sleeping, now, but Dwalin wasn't.
Dwalin had been made very aware of just how unprepared and innocent the hobbits were. If Lily hadn't managed to send Jenny away, they would never have found out what happened, and he would never have seen any of these little friends ever again. Dwalin's heart clenched at the thought.
He knew what happened to slaves. He'd seen them before, cowering and beaten, with dull eyes and hollow cheeks. To think of that fate for these bright-eyed, cheerful and friendly children was unbearable! He had to do something. This couldn't be allowed to happen again.
He knew there would be teachers arriving in a week or two to train them up, but Dwalin didn't know if that was enough. Hobbits were so tiny! How they ever be strong enough to hold their own? Forget fighting fair. He resolved to make sure they were taught every dirty trick in the book. He'd drill them himself until they were faster and hardier than any Man could hope to be.
He spent hours thinking over weapons and training regimens, trying to work out the system that would give them the best chance of survival against a force like Lily had faced. Dwalin knew he wouldn't be around forever, but he swore to himself that he'd make sure they were able to protect themselves before he left.
In his study, Isumbras paced. He'd received word of Billa and her dwarves riding out to save a lass from slavers, and he was worried.
If it had been any other group, he would have been making funeral arrangements by now and sending out his condolences. As it was, he kept reminding himself that Billa Baggins had more Took in her than anyone, including himself, had suspected, and not to underestimate her now.
Besides, she'd taken a company of dwarves with her. If anyone could survive this encounter, she could.
She'd changed, that was for sure.
Before she'd invited him to tea, he had almost forgotten what she looked like, he hadn't seen her in so long. She had been a quiet, polite little thing in her youth, always curious and clever, but never so bold or brash as this. Now, she stood strong and tall, and she radiated confidence like Oakenshield exuded majesty. Her dress, her hair, her walking stick all made her even more of a curiosity. What stood out most to Isumbras was the way she carried herself. As the Thain, and as a Took, he had seen warriors before. They walked with a predatory grace that could not be mimicked, and a certainty that could not be faked. Billa carried her walking stick with that same grace and certainty. Isumbras knew that it wasn't just a pretty embellishment. It had been made into a weapon, and one that she knew how to use.
Since her trip to Bree, Isumbras had been in turns delighted and terrified by the changes. She was taking control of business in the Shire, moving around her vast Baggins wealth with a sly, skillful hand that he'd never seen in her before. Suddenly, the rumor mills were churning at full-speed, spilling tales of her rescue by Mister Dwalin, which story Isumbras knew for certain was false. She had actually convinced the hobbits to not only tolerate, but actually welcome these hulking, warlike outsiders. Somehow, she was changing the opinions of the Shire with all the skill of a veteran gossiping gammer.
Isumbras's own mother had been like this, exerting her own will over the Shire with a careful, devious hand that few could see. In his grandmother's day, women had been lesser citizens, unable to own property or run their own business. His mother had woven a careful web of intrigue and changed those laws, and the ideas that had spawned them, for good. When her husband died, she took over as Thain until she died at 114 and passed the title onto Isumbras.
The same daring and cunning that his mother and, to some extent, his sister had displayed was practically dripping from Billa. Tooks had a way of being wild in their youth, but growing sly and wily with age, and it seemed as if Billa had developed the most powerful Took traits in her 12 years of self-imposed isolation.
It was a pity, he thought, that he couldn't name her his heir. He couldn't, not with the way she was eyeing that Oakenshield dwarf. He was becoming more certain every day that her children would, in fact, inherit a Kingdom instead of a Shire. If he was proved wrong, he'd snap up the opportunity as soon as he could, but he'd seen that look before. He'd seen that look in Belladonna's eyes when she'd looked at Bungo. Billa's eyes held that look now.
That dwarf had better make sure she came back alive, or Isumbras would make life very, very difficult for him. He'd lost Belladonna. He truly hoped he didn't lose her daughter, too.
Hours passed, and Isumbras kept pacing.
