Ch.5: Introductions and Gravy Boats

Despite its glaring lack of mountains the Shire seemed like a cozy enough sort of place. Certainly not grand enough for her or her kin, but pleasant and well cared for by its… odd occupants. Each of which took time from their leisurely living to come stare at Gandalf and herself as they passed by. She was not offended; it gave her opportunity to stare back at the strange pint-sized things, their peculiar little ears and great wide feet.

But Eily's curiosity for these 'hobbits,' as Gandalf called them could not alleviate her anxiety. The prospect of meeting the company of dwarves that would escort and aide in the retaking of Erebor had her nothing short of frightened.

"I asked them to meet me at an old friend's house. I think you'll find them an agreeable assemblage. And the hobbit is very pleasant; he'll like you very much I think."

It was obvious Gandalf was trying to comfort her, but it was not the hobbit's approval she worried about. She tugged at her cloak sheepishly as they approached the hill, self-consciously trying to keep her beardless jaw covered. Gandalf noticed and wrinkled his face a bit, but there was nothing he could do about dwarves and beards and contented himself to think on pleasanter things.

Gandalf could hardly restrain a chuckle at the thought of poor Bilbo, who was sure to be taken aback by the guests who arrived at his front step that evening. But the halfling would adapt soon enough to the presence of dwarf, and if he must be inducted so abruptly, better it be over dinner.

When Gandalf tapped gingerly on the round green door there was already boisterous song radiating from the cozy looking hole in the hill. Eily's heart rose at the sound of her people's song, recognizing and responding to it instinctively.

~Smash the bottles and burn the corks!~

A grin took over her face. Despite a royal (and magical) conception she had never met another dwarf, yet somehow her accounts and secondhand experience (be it from the Mother Mountain, Gandalf, or human traveler) seemed to all coalesce into a sort of genetic memory.

She knew she belonged.

Until the door was opened.

"Gandalf! What is going- They're destroying my house Gandalf! Look at what they're doing to my dishes! They're heirlooms Gandalf!"

The hobbit was completely distraught, and Gandalf smiled his way past him, Eily under his arm.

~Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!~

"Bilbo, this is Eily, a dwarf lady of noble house. I think the two of you shall get along famously. Eily, this is my old friend Bilbo, an intrepid adventurer."

"A pleasure to meet you milady,"

Bilbo bowed stiffly, not out of rudeness but more out of shock and a sudden urgent need to attend to his pretty guest,

~Splash the wine on every door!~

"Please make yourself at home! Could I take your cloak from you? Are you cold? Hungry? I'm sure Gandalf has been ignoring- Wait, adventurer?"

His tiny head snapped back to Gandalf, and he began to gesticulate agitatedly in Gandalf's direction, shaking Eily's brown fur lined cloak in his tiny fist, forgetting he had taken it,

"Now just what is the meaning of all-"

Eily's attention to Bilbo's grousing faded away as she stepped out from behind Gandalf, her hands gripped her skirts, rubbing the material between her fingers anxiously. So far they had not noticed her, and they continued to sing merrily. She moved silently to the center of the hallway, eyes twisting about the room, watching as they energetically tossed dish and bowl alike between each other.

A particularly handsome, and particularly young, brunette dwarf stood with his back turned to her, a wide grin plastered on his face as he turned slightly to toss a dish. Another dwarf, this one blonde and slightly more of age turned to pass him another, and as he did so his eyes caught sight of her.

She stiffened instantly and tried her best to meet his gaze and not be shy.

He simply stared until a large serving plate smashed painfully into the back of his head, shattering as it hit the floor.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!" shrieked Bilbo, quickly fussing his way to the broken plate.

"Fili? What are you doing? I threw it right to you!" belted an irked, but mostly entertained voice from what must have been the dining room.

The brunette dwarf who still had his back turned was pointing and guffawing at the blonde, turning to see what had grabbed his attention, a wide bright handsome smile still stuck on his face, but what he saw caused him to release the dish in his hand, which fell heavily to the floor, breaking the handle free from the small dish.

"THAT'S MY BEST GRAVY BOAT!" Bilbo shrieked and let out a nasal huff as he pushed the young brunette to the side to sadly finger through the dirty remnants of his favorite daisy patterned gravy dispenser.

"What is going on out here?"

A short elder dwarf sauntered out in response to Bilbo's yapping, a pipe in his mouth and his thumbs in his belt, his snowy beard reflecting the candlelight. He had the presence of mind to grab hold of his pipe as his jaw gaped.

All of Eily's pride (which she had no idea was so fragile) felt like it was running out of her as the other dwarves peeped, or in some cases clumsily shoved, into the hall, all of them going mute as their gazes honed in on her. The moment felt like it went on for an eternity, but in reality it was only a few short moments until Gandalf stepped deftly between the two groups, pushing a few chunks of broken ceramic to the side with the end of his staff,

"Eily, these are the noble dwarves of Erebor. This fellow is Bofur; that is his brother Bombur, and their cousin Bifur. These three brothers are Dori, Nori, and that one there is Ori. This,"

Gandalf set a large hand on the shoulder of the white haired dwarf, "is Balin, first son of Fundin and his brother Dwalin."

"And THESE-THESE- ROUGHABOUTS-" Bilbo suddenly interjected, rising from the floor with one of his arms full of dish shards, the other shaking with an accusatory finger extended on the remaining two young dwarves like a weapon.

"These are the youngest of the senior line of Durin: Fili, and his brother, Kili." Gandalf finished before Bilbo could continue on his tirade.

"And this," Gandalf smiled softly as he turned to her, "Is the lady Eily of the Vividstone, sole descendent of the unknown clan mother and daughter of the Lonely Mountain itself."

The dwarves who had taken a break from staring at her to look at Gandalf began to turn back to her incredulously. Eily could feel the blood rushing to her face as she blinked back at the twenty-four unreadable eyes.

Gandalf coughed a bit at the awkward silence and rather than ease it simply walked into the dining room.

"Any wine left?" he asked gruffly.

"Oh, yes, yes. Let me fetch a glass for you!" piped Dori, who took this as the moment to escape the difficult and tense air of the hallway.

"Don't give him that fruity stuff! Take some from the barrel in back, it's aged much better," Balin added, following the other dwarf, "Nori show him the one I'm talking about."

Soon every dwarf found a thin excuse to withdraw into the dining room, and arguments and jokes recommenced.

But it was not the same, she could feel it. None of them had spoken to her; they simply retreated together into another room, probably hoping she was some kind of bad day dream.

She was left alone in the hall with the hobbit, who was sweeping up the smaller bits of plate with an agitated mumble on his breath.

Despite their rudeness, oddly, it hadn't been as mortifying as she'd envisioned. On the road to the Shire she'd imagined the best and worst possibilities for this meeting: the best being that they all would approach and embrace her as a sister and daughter. On the other hand, she also imagined them cursing her and sending her out on her ear, reviling her as the spawn of the one who had betrayed her One, her destined mate (but not just any mate), the betrayer Durin himself. And though they had not known of her mother's existence until now (or maybe still didn't for lack of understanding, though it seemed unlikely that Gandalf would keep quiet about it) they were sure to recognize the disgrace in it. If nothing else the disgrace on her beardless face.

Instead they seemed only deeply confused, at least for now.

"So are you hungry?" Bilbo asked, turning to her with his full dustpan of dish remnants and pulling her from her grim thoughts,

"I have a few biscuits and a choice bit of ham in the parlor that I was saving for an after dinner snack. We could warm up by the fire while you ate."

Bilbo's offer was both kind and perceptive; the last place she wanted to enter was that dining room.