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 Chapter 37, Thorin was pretty overwhelmed when Billa asked him to pass judgment. He had started the night by almost proposing to her, and things ended very differently. However, since he was leaving for the winter and really thought he could truly love her, he wanted to honor the gravity of her story, but also give her something to remember him by.
As it often happens when one partner is more experienced than the other, Billa was pretty submissive and trembly. That will change as she grows more confident of her feelings and how things work between men and women (Remember - Billa really WAS an old maid - emphasis on the maid part!) and you'll see that in future chapters.
Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up in her 33-year-old body and realizes she has a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay.
Chapter 39
Thorin sighed as the sun finally crested the horizon and poured into his window. He'd tossed and turned for much of the night, brooding.
Billa had completely turned his world on its axis, and while he reeled in confusion, she had been steady and strong, even as she surrendered her life into his hands.
Knowing his hands were tied and he could not give her the full gift now, he had wrapped one of his knives, covering the beautiful, poignant hilt. He had pressed it into her fingers, knowing that she would obey when he told her to always wear it but never use it. He had no real fear for her safety, this was the Shire, after all. In any case, she always carried her staff and other knives, and she had a sword at her disposal, as well as Bifur and Nori's protection. No, this knife would not be used until they were ready to to move, either forward into courtship or backwards into friendship. Despite the covered hilt, dwarves would be able to tell just by looking at her bead, at her staff, at her sword and at this knife that she was important to him and to his family, and they would protect and trust her.
Thorin had been so disappointed. That was not how the night was supposed to go. He wanted to leave with some kind of understanding between them, and finally kiss the hobbit that he was truly beginning to love. Instead, she had insisted that he pass judgment on her for something she hadn't done yet.
He had wanted to make her falter, watch her be as affected by his words as he had been by hers, and so he had ruthlessly teased and touched her, kissing at her ears with tormenting lips until her skin was flushed and her breathing uneven and she fairly shook in his arms. She had clutched his knife with one hand and clung to his fur coat with the other, and it had warmed his heart how she pressed her nose into his hair, and how her pulse had pounded under his fingers. If he couldn't leave with an understanding, he'd at least leave her with a memory to keep her warm and thinking of him.
He knew it was hardly the judgement she had expected, nor the delivery, but he had needed to feel in control of something, and she had responded beautifully. He couldn't give her judgment, but he could give her this, and she had leaned eagerly, submissively against him. He had watched until she was safely back in her room, and listened to the sweet, sad melody that he knew no one had taught her.
As for her story, well, he did not wish to call her mad and reject it, but he did not wish to accept it as truth either. It didn't really matter. However things might have turned out once upon a time no longer mattered because clearly, circumstances had changed and that future would no longer come to pass. He clung to that idea fiercely, resolutely rejecting the idea of gold sickness with all his strength. It had not happened, and it would not. He'd make doubly sure of it.
In any case, Thorin wasn't sure how to proceed. Stealing the Arkenstone was a big deal but... she hadn't stolen it from him, and her reasoning made sense, and he was having a hard time working up the fury that he must have felt in order to take her by the throat or threaten to throw her from the ramparts. No matter that she had committed a crime, the crime hadn't been committed yet and probably never would. She may consider herself guilty, but she wasn't guilty of anything against him.
He hardly counted her keeping this story a secret as a crime either. In fact, if it had been blurted from her lips the first moment she came to his forge, he probably would have refused her commission, no matter how much gold she offered. He couldn't really blame her for not wanting to tell him and risk being labelled a lunatic.
And, if the disconcerting accuracy of her geography and descriptions turned out to be nothing more than coincidence and she really was just a little mad, he could hardly fault her for that. Madness ran in his family, too. Perhaps her kind of madness will balance mine out, he thought humorlessly, and our descendants will be sane. At least her kind of madness was discrete and didn't interfere with the day-to-day running of a successful kingdom - unlike others he could name. Couch cough - Thror - cough.
In any case, he would grant her judgment after a long, thoughtful winter apart. If, in the spring, he still longed for her and she for him, he would return the knives to her with all their implications and ask her to enter into a courtship. If it was clear one of them had moved on, he would hammer out the details on the handles and let them stand as a token of good-will between them, and the knives would be nothing more than a particularly well-forged set.
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired face, and rose to face the day. There was much to do.
Dwalin knew something was wrong the moment he entered the kitchen. No matter how early he had risen each day before this, Billa had been there with breakfast already prepared, a smile on her face and a skip in her step. These past few weeks, she'd practically glowed, especially when Thorin was near.
Today, as he stepped into the kitchen, it was cold, dark, and empty. Billa was nowhere to be seen. No- he amended that. There she was, in the pantry down the hall. He poked his head around the corner, looking in at her. She was dressed, but in leather trousers and a tunic, the likes of which he hadn't seen her wear since Bree. Her hair, instead of rioting around her shoulders and back, was tied back, leaving only her braid from Dis hanging loose over her shoulders. Her face was pale, and she had dark circles under her eyes, and the wan smile she mustered when she saw him was clearly faked.
"Good morning, Dwalin," she said with false cheer. "I must have slept in. Just give me a few moments and I'll have something ready," she said, and Dwalin's heart went out to her.
Poor lass, he thought, she's taking our impending departure even worse than I feared.
"There, now, Billa," he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. "Come along and sit at the counter, and I'll show you how a son of Fundin fixes a proper dwarven breakfast."
This time her smile, though small, was genuine. "Thank you, Dwalin," she said, and she followed him out into the kitchen.
As soon as Billa had left the house to check on the smials, Dwalin sought out Nori.
He found the thief lurking just outside the study, obviously listening to Thorin's conversation with Balin.
"-s enough, Balin," came Thorin's growl. "I have heard her confession and I am satisfied. Do not question her or my judgment in this-"
Dwalin seized the thief by the shoulder and hauled him bodily away. To his credit, the thief didn't make a noise even when he was being dragged. For all the thief struggled against his grip he still slid soundlessly on socks across the floor. As soon as he realized it was Dwalin, he went limp - just enough of a show of submission that Dwalin couldn't fault him for it, but enough of an inconvenience to make his opinion of Dwalin's interference clear. Dwalin's implacable mass would not be stopped.
Dwalin dragged him down to his own room, pushed him inside, and shut the door behind them.
"Well, guard dog," Nori said, glancing around warily at Dwalin's room before beginning his usual back-talk. "Whatever it is you think I did, I can assure you that I have done nothing without express approval from-"
"Lady Billa's going to need you," Dwalin interrupted bluntly, uncaring of whatever the thief was going to say. "And I need you to stay with her until we return."
Nori didn't even blink as he adjusted to this unexpected topic.
"I had no expectations of leaving her," Nori said calmly, but Dwalin recognized the evasion.
"Then make absolute expectations of staying," Dwalin said sharply. "I know brothers can be maddening, but this is more important than any momentary discomfort that suffering their presence for the winter may engender."
Nori eyed him speculatively. "Explain," he said.
"Lady Billa will need someone on her side," Dwalin said, resigning himself to explaining more than he wanted to tell. "Balin is thinking with his head instead of recognizing what is in her heart, and she will be heartsick enough when Thorin leaves. She will need a friend and an ally, and Bifur can't speak to her, so that will have to be you."
Dwalin sighed and made an uncharacteristic motion of politeness. He sat on the bed, gesturing the thief towards a chair. "I know you two share your schemes, and that you keep an ear to the ground for her," Dwalin informed Nori. "But that won't be enough. She may need to thrust you into the spotlight at a moment's notice, and you have to simply trust her and play along as best you can."
"Is that what you did?" Nori interjected quickly, swirling one of Dwalin's knives between his fingers. Dwalin eyed him sourly. How had he gotten that knife?
"The first time I heard Billa Baggins spinning her stories about the Protector of the Innocent and the Defender of the Weak I wanted to strangle her," Dwalin said bluntly. "And as the stories grew more wild and the rumors spread and the fervor increased, I felt like a liar and a pretender for the first time in my life. I hated it," he said passionately. "But, I recognized the necessity when she explained it to me and, for the sake of those who would follow, I played along. I swore to myself, though, that I would not be a liar and this would not be pretend. If I was forced to tell this tale, then I was going to make sure it was a true one, or else I'd shave my beard."
Nori's eyes widened minutely at Dwalin's vow. Shaving one's beard was a sign of disgrace and failure - not to be taken lightly.
"So I set out to make the rumors true. I did every good deed I could imagine, and several more that Lady Billa cooked up. I was friendly and patient, and did my best to be just like a hero ought to be. And you know, thief, for the first time since Erebor fell I actually felt like a hero." Dwalin snorted humorlessly.
"There are no dragons to slay here," he explained. "No starvation or winter to fight against. No impossible foes, just pig stampedes and twisted ankles and the occasional rescue. All you need to be a hero in the Shire is a strong arm and a willing heart, thief, and you have those. If Lady Billa needs you, will she have your sword?" Dwalin asked.
Nori looked at Dwalin for a moment, and then looked down at the knife he was twirling in his restless fingers. "You don't think I should find her a replacement guard dog from among the caravans?" Nori asked.
Dwalin hmphed. "You didn't see the lass this morning. She's not fighting with both eyes open, and her heart's not in it. She's going to need your scheming, thieving ways to keep her head on her shoulders this winter, and no dwarf from the caravans is going to suffice. Will she have your sword?" Dwalin repeated.
Nori huffed. "What is this, the passing of the torch or something? I hardly-"
"Call it whatever you want, Nori," Dwalin said, eyes boring into the thief. Nori started a little as Dwalin actually used his given name. They'd never done that before. "I just want to know if she can count on you to have her back this winter, no matter what. Can she?"
Nori looked down at the filched knife in his hands, and then flung it at Dwalin, who caught it easily out of the air. Nori cracked a smile when Dwalin didn't even flinch. As the Captain of the Guard and a notorious thief, they had hunted each other often enough that potentially-fatal attacks were far more comforting and familiar than actual conversation.
"Aye... Dwalin," Nori said finally. "She has my sword."
Dwalin sheathed the knife in his boot where it belonged, though how Nori had snatched it out of there he'd never quite know.
"Good," he said, before clearing his throat. "Now get out, thief, and keep your sticky fingers to yourself."
Nori smirked at the return to normalcy. "Hush, little guard dog," he chided as he sauntered out of Dwalin's room. "I'm not interested in digging up your bones or stealing your chew-toys. Whatever would Mama Billa and Papa Thorin think?"
Dwalin waited until the door closed before allowing his grin to show.
