Chapter Six

Learning

The first week with the new arrival had been chaotic. Maggie had never felt more useless and from time to time she wondered if her older brother had ever suffered this way because of her? Bilbo Baggins was a small creature that hiccuped and cooed, but hardly ever cried. At least, not yet, though Maggie figured there really wasn't anything for him to cry over. He stayed in the bedroom with his mother, both of them bedridden (Gilda had to shove Belladonna back onto the bed after the second day) until the midwife said otherwise.

This, of course, left Maggie and Bungo to do most of the housework. Not that either of them minded, but Maggie could see her panic reflect in Bungo's shakes and twitching fingers. Gilda had given them a list of things that they could feed Belladonna and another list of things to keep away from her, lest the baby become sick from nursing. Maggie couldn't rightly tell if any of the information was suggested out of true medical fact or superstition, but she wasn't about to fight Gilda over it (oh hell no, thank you).

Bungo helped her with breakfast, and how to cook without burning the food over the fire (because the fireplace wasn't like an electric or gas stove that just told you how hot it was) and how to make a tea strong enough for Belladonna. Bilbo remained quiet and blinked at the passing shadows as they flickered around in the room and Maggie did her best to remember what she could from her high school sex education class.

'He can see shadows. He can hear muffled noises… or is it different for hobbits?' The question had come to her more than once when she was allowed visitation rights (Gilda was firm that the mother and child had to bond strongly before others could interact with him) and got to hold him while he slept. He responded to small stimuli, but he was too young to smile and could only smack his lips when he was hungry or upset over something.

She had yet figured out which was what, though.

Belladonna recovered quickly, but it seemed that Maggie was the only one amused over Bella's escape attempts to the bathroom and the garden. Gilda often herded the mother back into the bedroom, growling about the outdoors being brought inside (or something to that affect, Maggie still couldn't keep up with Gilda's rapid speech), and Bungo's worrywart nature never chilled and always fired up whenever he stepped into the bedroom and found his wife missing.

It relaxed Maggie, somewhat, to know that she wasn't the only one growing an ulcer over her insecurities when it came to Belladonna and the baby. The nights were just as long and her normal trips outside to the grand oak tree or down into the fields were now all but completely forgotten. Most nights found Maggie awake and sitting as close to her bedroom door as possible (without being in the hallway, Bungo had already scolded her over that one), with the door wide open to allow her to listen for Belladonna or Bilbo's cries.

Every time he did cry, Maggie felt her heart leap into her throat and choke her. Really, there was probably no reason to be so fearful, but the image of the tiny baby pressed against her chest and in her arms was burned into her memories and flashed brightly whenever he did scream out with indignation. Her constant worry was that she was just too strong, and too uncontrollable to handle the baby or be near him. Belladonna swatted away her fears whenever they appeared, though, and would guilt Maggie into holding the baby when she visited.

"He needs his sister as much as he needs his parents." Belladonna laughed as she deposited Bilbo into Maggie's arms one afternoon. "It will do him no good to just know me or his father. We…" The woman cut off and Maggie brought her curious gaze away from Bilbo to her best friend. A strange flicker of pinched pain took her features, but at Maggie's glance, Belladonna smiled and waved it away.

Maggie frowned, "What is, Bella? Hurt?"

"No, no, my dear." The woman smiled again, but Maggie could see it still didn't reach far enough to wrinkle the corners of her eyes. "I am just getting a bit ahead of my plans. With Bilbo here now, I always seem to look too far into the future and forget to enjoy the time I have now." At Maggie's blink, Belladonna laughed and a hand came up to hold her chin. "I apologize. I must sound so strange."

"No strange." Maggie answered and shifted Bilbo's (non-existent) weight in her arms. "You is scared of… of future? Future? His?"

"No. Not… not his. Ours. Bungo's and my life." Belladonna murmured softly as her hands left her face and fussed with the blankets around her. She had a faint look of concern over her brow and she sighed with a small glance at Bilbo in Maggie's arms. "Maggie. Do you know how long dwarves live?" At Maggie's shake of her head, Belladonna smiled sadly, "Dwarves can live to be almost three hundred years old."

Maggie had to take a moment to count by tens and add as she went, as Bungo had instructed, her to get to the number equivalent to the same pronunciation Belladonna had used. Maggie blinked and felt the blood drain from her face as a phantom punch took her breath away. She nearly clutched Bilbo too tightly and hastily she placed Bilbo back, next to his mother.

"Maggie." Belladonna started in an attempt to calm her, "Maggie, please stop. Wait."

"Three hundred… three hundred years. Bella, I cannot. I no do that." Maggie pleaded with the female softly. She knew it would do nothing to help her, or stop what could possibly be her future, but it was something, even small. Three hundred years to do what, precisely? Maggie could barely fathom a normal human lifetime of close to ninety (and that was being generous, considering the environment she was in) and just that alone had frightened her.

But three hundred years? How was she supposed to survive that long and not go completely insane? What would she do, where would she – Maggie stopped pacing around Bella's bed and turned to face the woman, tears now at the corners of her eyes. Maggie swallowed and nervously laced her fingers together and twisted them. She opened her mouth once or twice, but could form no words. She wanted to say so much, but her limited ability to speak caged her. Instead, a quiet sob escaped her.

Belladonna frowned and gently opened one arm on the side of the bed that Bilbo didn't rest on, and Maggie moved to it with a trip. She knelt beside the bed and her head dropped to Bella's hip, her hands fisted into the blanket that covered the new mother. Belladonna's hand came to the top of Maggie's head and gently caressed the length of her hair as far as she could reach.

"I had meant to talk to you before this, Margaret." Belladonna murmured with sadness. Gentle fingers caressed Maggie's ear and the young dwarf could only sniffle into the blanket. "I know this must be terrifying to you. There is so much you do not seem to know, and I wish I could… I could just give you these answers, Margaret."

"How long hobbits?" Maggie's muffled voice came up through the blanket. It was a moment more before Maggie could pull her reddened face away from the cloth and stare up at Belladonna with a tear-stained face. Belladonna gave her the smallest of grieved smiles and sighed with a hand that came to Maggie's cheek.

"Only a hundred."

A fresh bloom of grief blossomed in Maggie's gut and she felt sick. Her throat flooded with moisture and she puffed her cheeks to keep from being sick so close to Bilbo. 'You'll only live for a hundred years…? You'll only be here for a fraction of my… of my lifetime?' Maggie pressed her lips together painfully and shut her eyes against the new wave of tears. The heel of one of her palms came up to her eye socket and she pressed it against her eye. 'Not even a fraction… less than that, you've already lived half your life, haven't you?'

"Only hundred… what I do after, Bella? What I do when all gone?" Her voice broke halfway through her words and Belladonna leaned over with a soft shush and pressed her forehead covered in curls over Maggie's broad boulder of a brow. They were silent as Maggie allowed the tears to fall. It now seemed all her fears rushed up to her at once and gripped her lungs so tightly that it was ice that she breathed through, instead of flesh.

'What am I supposed to do when you're dead and gone?' Maggie thought quietly to herself, grief laced even through her thoughts. 'How am I supposed to survive without you or Bungo? How am I supposed to go nearly twice as long all by myself?' The idea terrified her, because to suddenly think that Bag End would be empty of its masters and left cold and unattended just left Maggie bereft. The world beyond the door of the warm hobbit hole now seemed too vast and empty and distant. Who beyond these gentle hobbits would have the patience to deal with her and her oddities? This wasn't her world; she couldn't just strike out by herself again and hope for the best.

This world was nothing like her old one, this one held many more dangerous and much more that she would never understand. How was she supposed to survive that for three times as long?

'Who's ever going to be as unconditional as you two have been?' All these things she wanted to ask, and couldn't, and she knew they wouldn't need to be asked because Belladonna would have no answer for her. No one could predict the future, no one could see so far ahead as to give Maggie peace of mind to her life, left alone and in solitude.

"You will have Bilbo, Margaret." Belladonna whispered into the silence between them. Maggie blinked; she hadn't realized she closed her eyes for so long, having pictured the hobbit mother in her mind so clearly and vividly. Belladonna smoothed away some of Maggie's hair and allowed her slender fingers to graze the beard along her jaw before coming to her chin. Belladonna smiled as best she could, but tears were also in her eyes. "Bilbo will need you in his life, as you have needed me and Bungo. He will be your companion, your brother, your friend. Will you be the same for him?"

"Yes. Always."

That shouldn't have even been a question.

…

The months slowly went by and Maggie remained diligent in her promise to Bilbo, both the one she had made on the day of his birth and the one she had made to his mother weeks after. The little hobbit child was round and chubby, but she assumed all babies were at that age. He was too small to crawl and too fragile to allow on the floor, but there were moments that his mother's fire took him and he could be found trying to wiggle his way out of his wrapped-blanket prison.

It was December by Shire Reckoning when he finally managed it, and he only four months old. Maggie sat by her writing desk, Bungo's lesson book in front of her, but she was utterly captured by the sight just a few feet from her. Bilbo was placed in his makeshift crib of fine oak and polished metal, and his movements had increased enough that the crib began to sway on its own accord.

That was what had originally caught her attention, what followed only stayed her focus even more. The little thing, the tiniest of creatures she had ever seen, was now fighting to remove himself from his bundle. Little gasps and high pitched grunts could be heard as baby Bilbo did his best to wiggle out of his prison. A little arm first came loose, and then the other, and finally the fold was removed from his head and he squealed happily.

Maggie could only watch from her desk, amazed. 'That fuckin' little devil…' She continued to watch as the infant finally won his long, hard battle with his confinement, and then could only laugh as he stared up at the curved ceiling with an expression of utter perplexity. 'Yeah, that's right, you little shithead,' Maggie thought to herself between her smothered chuckles, 'what now? Where are you gonna go? Oh shit!' The little hobbit seemed not nearly so content to remain in his crib, and had turned onto his side to continue his escape.

"Oooh, no you don't, punk." Maggie snickered in English. She moved toward the crib and placed a hand on the rail that caged him. "Where in God's name do you think you're going, huh?" The curly head little beast turned his eyes up to her and a toothless smile greeted her. Maggie shook her head and reached into the crib to lift him. "Yeah, yeah. Let's just smile at Maggie! She'll do whatever I want because I've got her fuckin' wrapped around my tiny ass fingers. You're such a spoiled brat, you know that?"

Her tirade was interrupted by a loud squeal from Bilbo, immensely pleased that he had been retrieved and removed from his prison. His little fists bobbed in the air happily and he spat at her with his big lips and pink tongue. Maggie felt her face crunch as a cool wetness splattered against her cheek and she sighed. They shared a look and Bilbo hiccupped with his noiseless laughter.

"Yeah, whatever," Maggie teased and brought her thick nose to his face. Another squeal escaped him as he shoved at her cheek with his meaty, baby fist as the edge of her beard now scratched at his peachy skin. "Oh, yeah, don't want to fight now, do you? That's what I thought, punk." Maggie leaned in further and blew her lips into his neck, growling and nibbling as softly as she could. The baby now screamed in her hold and laughter sprung out of him as he fought her and tried to beat her away with his hands and face.

"Maggie."

The dwarf froze at the sound of Bungo's voice and slowly she turned toward the kitchen and grinned at the young father. He stood at the mouth of the kitchen with his hands on his hips and flour in his hair. The hobbit could only roll his eyes at her, but she could see his cheeks twitch and become slightly pink with amusement.

"He started it."

"Maggie!"

…

Gandalf didn't arrive to see Bilbo until the turn of the new year within The Shire. Maggie very nearly got away with not mentioning a birthday to Belladonna and Bungo, but the old meddling weasel had brought it up in conversation, of course. They had been seated comfortable in the designated family room further into the hill of Bag End, with a fire blazing before them (and carefully fenced and bordered to keep a very active Bilbo at bay) and a few cups of tea and foodstuffs around them.

Maggie had never really had a true Yuletide holiday back at home. There was no trees, no decorations, no traditions to practice, just nothing at all. Her mother wasn't usually around and by the time five in the afternoon rolled around, her older brother was well into his second bottle of hard liquor. This, though, which she now shared alongside the Baggins' and Gandalf, was nice. It was warm and cozy and completely unnatural and strange. Bilbo was at his mother's feet as Belladonna sat in her reclined chair and he gnashed away with his two new teeth on a leather toy his father had given him.

Belladonna looked to be asleep, wrapped in her shawl and heavy against her chair. Bungo sat not too far to her right and held a book in his lap with a cup balanced in his other hand on the armrest. Gandalf hunched over his pipe in one of the few human-sized chairs they had (Maggie had the other one) and contemplated the flames as they danced before his eyes.

"Margaret." Gandalf called to her. The young female dwarf looked up from her journal in her lap and tilted her head at the wizard. He puffed at his pipe and grumbled with a thought. "How old are you, my dear girl?"

"Three and twenty." Margaret replied readily. Her speech was still rugged and sharp around the edges, but what it lacked in grace it had in strength of sturdy bones. Some phrases and the turns of the words were a mystery to her, such as her numbers, but the steering was much less blind now when she spoke, with eight months under her belt, and she was glad for it. Maggie shifted in her chair, "Why do you ask, Gandalf?"

"I am merely curious, Margaret." Gandalf replied with a small tip of his head. Maggie felt one of her eyebrows tick up toward her hairline. 'Right. Just curious, he says. Buuuuullshit.' But if he wasn't going to say anything else on it, she wasn't going to pursue it either. She turned back to the journal in her hand, the piece of charcoal having stained her fingers a long while ago, and the twisted (and unseemly) likeness of the great oak outside was starting to take shape.

Of course, not half an hour later into the smooth night did Gandalf deem it fit to intrude into the silence with his questions once again.

"Margaret." Gandalf twittered at her. Maggie paused in her drawing practice and blinked with a frown down at her work. Slowly, she turned her head to the old wizard and cocked her chin at him, but he seemed wholly undisturbed by interrupting her. He puffed out his cheeks and his big, bush-like brow fluttered on his face.

"Yes?" She asked when she realized he wasn't going to continue at the mere turn of her gaze. Honestly, it was like pulling teeth with the wizard sometimes. Even Bilbo had a better response time than the old man just an arm's length away from her.

"Three and twenty… I had mentioned it before, to Belladonna, but now that you are capable of understanding, I wish to discuss it with you." At this, Belladonna appeared to come awake and sat upright in her chair. Bungo's eyes remained on the fire, but he sighed and sipped his tea. Both signs had Margaret tensing and she curled her folded legs tighter against her (not like there was much room on the chair, anyway) and tucked her journal further into her lap.

"What is it that you wish to discuss, Gandalf?" Bilbo was taken up from his place at Belladonna's feet and held in her lap. He protested lightly and growled around his leather toy (a habit he had learned from his dwarven sister, unfortunately), but otherwise continued with his play.

Belladonna, though, cleared her throat. "Gandalf…"

"She may not be old enough in the dwarven culture, Belladonna Baggins, but she has shown enough growth and maturity to warrant this conversation." Well, if Maggie hadn't been worried before, she certainly was now. She glanced between her companions, but only Bungo refused to meet her gaze. Maggie huffed and gave Gandalf a narrowed look.

"And what is this issue we must discuss? You have me worried, wizard." Maggie replied stiffly.

Gandalf sighed as well. "When you first arrived, my dear girl, I had suggested to your keepers," he gestured casually to Belladonna and Bungo just off to his side, "that you be taken to Rivendell, home of Lord Elrond."

"The… elf." Maggie said lamely. That was still a thing to wrap her head around. She had only ever seen hobbits and Gandalf, and that alone had stretched the imagination of her mind, but to see elves? She had read enough of Belladonna's books to know that these creatures were well beyond other-worldly and to see one was to see stars.

"Yes," Gandalf answered sharply, "Though, do you mean to tell me now that you've regained some of your memory – and that such a memory is only of the ill-will dwarves harbor for elves?" Gandalf had snapped at her so soundly that Maggie recoiled from his words. Belladonna frowned angrily and turned her heated gaze to Gandalf.

"Hush now, Gandalf. For shame, I had already told you that such a thing as elves was new to her!" Belladonna's words were like a blade that cut through Gandalf's ire and the old wizard wrinkled back down into himself. Bilbo's bottom lip trembled from the turn of the mood in the room and he looked up to his mother with tears. Belladonna cooed gently to her baby and hugged him, murmuring soothing things to him.

"I do apologize. In all my dealings with dwarves, their stubbornness is an obstacle I have very little patience for, Miss Margaret." Gandalf shook his head and fiddled with his pipe. There was a beat of silence and Maggie felt her body release its tension, but she doubted very much that the discussion was over.

"Why should I go to this lord?" Maggie asked quietly into the stilled room. She brought her gaze away from her journal and back to Gandalf.

"Your situation is not wholly unique, Margaret. There are many who have suffered the effects of a head injury such as yours." Gandalf's gaze shifted from her eyes to her forehead and she couldn't help but raise a hand to the long scar that marred her forehead from the middle of her brow and down to the corner of her eye. Even now, Maggie was unsure if that had been from dropping into her new world or from the car accident in the old one.

Gandalf nodded his head, "Yes. I had thought that Lord Elrond would give you some much needed attention. Not to say that your mind is completely muddled, my dear, but it is strange that you have no family… no friends, and no home."

"This is her home." Bungo immediately answered.

"This is my home." Maggie followed in time with Bungo.

Maggie glanced up over at Bungo, their statements having collided together in the air. She smiled faintly at the young father and he gave her a tight nod. Though they may not have had as open a bond as Belladonna and her shared, Maggie would be the last to renounce his relationship with her, and his goodwill.

"Be that as it may," Gandalf chuckled in amusement, "Her situation must be dealt with, and Lord Elrond may have information for her as to her past, as well as where she may find herself in the future." Margaret turned her gaze away at that, the discussion of her lifespan still painful in her mind even weeks afterward.

Maggie shook her head and gripped her journal, "I shall not. I do not wish to leave, not with Bilbo so young."

"My dear girl," Gandalf countered readily, "Bilbo will be here when you return. There is no safer place in this world than the Shire, of that I can assure you." Maggie continued to shake her head. Though Bilbo was nothing to her, not flesh or blood, and she certainly didn't give birth to him, he was as good as a little brother as any. She couldn't imagine leaving him behind, even if the Shire was safe and secure.

'And how long will I be gone?' She wanted to ask, but something held her tongue. 'What if I'm gone so long that he starts to learn to walk and talk, to play, and I'm not around?' The thought of missing those memories pained her and not for the first time, Margaret wondered how her mother had been able to relinquish those precious moments without a care.

"Margaret." Gandalf coaxed his way into her silence and the young dwarf snapped her gaze to his face. He gave her the warmest of smiles and leaned over to place his hand on the head of her armrest. "I would not say this if I did not believe it wise. You have grown so well under the tutelage of your hobbit family, but I believe now is the time to seek a higher power."

Maggie sighed heavily and her head lulled back onto the support of her chair. "No more than two months, Gandalf," she relented warily, "Then I return."

Gandalf blinked and pulled away from her chair. "Two months, Margaret? Why such a limited amount of time? Is there something important in two months?" He probably knew damn well what was coming up, she could see that glint in his gaze and she scrunched her nose at him.

"It is my first birthday here. I wish to share it with Bilbo."

Gandalf laughed, "And so you shall, my dear dwarrowdam, and so you shall!"

Notes: It's like pulling teeth with Maggie, she doesn't want to go anywhere! Leave your thoughts!