AN: I'd like to thank each and every one of you who has reviewed this story. Honestly, this fic never would've took off if it weren't for your support! Bloody hell.
So the lyrics to May It Be actually fit Emily pretty well and it makes me so happy.
I've now realized and accepted that the plot and characters will do what they want and take as much time as they please, despite my outline and input. But it's also for the best. I guess they know what they're doing.
Finally saw BOFA; cried my eyes out. And now my ending for this story has split into two possibilities… or maybe one, really long saga, maybe even a trilogy… Would you be willing to keep reading if this turns into something massive?
ALSO. As new characters come into the story (ahem), please let me know if they seem in character and if not, how to improve them. Thanks!
An extra huge thank you and shout out to Deviantart user, SwanInProgress, who made an absolutely beautiful piece of fanart for this fic! OMG. I love it. I wish this site would let us post links but if you search, it's titled "Emily and Thrain". Thank you so much again! It's so awesome!
Jo: Ah, thank you! Hopefully not too much trouble but we'll see ;]
Yes, I've seen it! Eyes are still sore and my heart's been ripped in three. Oh, my loves! Thorin's madness was probably the most emotionally destructive for me. Such brilliant acting from Richard omg.
Joy: You're too kind! I think I'll officially believe that I'm capable of being funny, after so many people have commented that they laughed at certain scenes lol. Woohoo! Gandalf and his bra… I apologize for that one. Hmmm, that shadow's getting a lot of attention. For a good reason? Maybe. I'll say nothing more haha! Thanks for the review!
Punky Warhammer: Thank you! And again for the second review checking up on me! That was really sweet! Sadly, I've just been preoccupied and unwilling to rush the chapter's ending. I was pleasantly surprised that people were taken with the history lesson in the last though. Yeah, the iron crown bit was awesome! Had it been anyone other than Morgoth, I might've felt bad. Ah, the ever popular shadow. Well, one clue- it'll definitely stick with Emily so long as there's a light source. Maybe cameo in another chapter? I'm just trying to joke and be vague here haha.
Chapter XXI
Shindig in the Shire
The mid-morning sun shone bright on Hobbiton, warming the air as I ambled through the dirt pathways, taking in the sights and sounds of daily life. As expected, I was given incredulous, disapproving, and alarmed looks whilst wandering by the dozens of Hobbits going about their day, probably wondering if they were fully awake. It was odd enough that one of the "tall folk" was perusing their little village but one with blue hair? Forget about it. No way could I slip by unnoticed.
It was actually making me really self-conscious, almost as much as when I first dyed it and had to face everyone at school. It was actually one of the most nerve-wracking times in my academic career—the anxiety of what the teachers and the "cool" kids would say made me fake sick to avoid it. I didn't really care that much about what people thought or said of me, but it still was difficult for me to listen to it.
I had made it through Ered Luin without too hard of a time—graciously helped along by my connections to the royal family and a Wizard. Anything they had said was most likely behind my back (Gimli aside), and that's just how I'd prefer it. But here… I didn't have any of that security. Here in Hobbiton, I was just… me. Weird old me, all alone. No one to cling to or hide behind.
I'd have donned my purple hat had it not been too warm for it.
Making my way uphill, I admired the quaint looking smials. There were well kept ones like Bilbo's, with polished brick and wooden frames and fences that were sat straight and closed tightly and yards with fragrant flowers and paved walkways which had every stone and pebble fitted perfectly into place. But as I traveled farther from Bag End, I noticed that the Hobbit holes became slightly less cared for. Some smials had doors with fading paint, a mess of weeds growing across the yard, broken pots, dingy windows, and in one case, a two floor chicken coop, complete with clucking hens, but I found they were no less beautiful than the richer dwellings. It was all magic to me.
As I climbed the peak of another hill, where many larger trees grew, I was caught off guard in my admiration of a smial door almost the exact shade of my hair when a shout of surprise and a dull thud was heard up ahead. I looked just in time to see a couple of cabbages rolling down towards me and away from the cart that once held them.
"Tula, dear, will you-?" motioned a Hobbit woman to her daughter, both with a mass of honey ringlets. The little girl started after the cabbages, dress hiked to her knobby knees.
"Oh, I got it!" I called, rushing to stop the rolling cabbages. I nestled the three escapees in the crook of my arm and caught up to them.
"Whoa!" exclaimed one of the children, a young boy with curly blonde hair. Good lord, he only came up to my knees. And his mother, only to the middle of my waist.
"Here, you go," I said, placing the cabbages back in the cart.
"Why, thank—" the mother began, then cut off once she saw me, or more so, didn't see my face at Hobbit level. She double took, glancing up to meet my eyes, then double took again when she saw my blue locks. Her eyes went as saucers for a moment, before she blinked away her surprise and continued. "T-thank you, Miss…?"
"Emily," I supplied, grateful that she hadn't made a fuss over my appearance.
"Thank you, Ms. Emily," she corrected then seemed to consider saying more. "Lilia Tuckroot, nice to meet you," she nodded politely. "These are my children, Tula (she was the oldest), Timble (the only boy), and Fressia (the smallest Hobbit I'd ever seen). All of which you've saved the trouble of chasing cabbages downhill for the good half of an hour—what do you say, children?"
"Thank you, Ms. Emily," they said in chorus, the youngest looking sincere.
I grinned. "It's no problem."
"Well, it'd have been to us," replied Mrs. Tuckroot. "Not many would pay full price for a cabbage that's seen high end to low of the Shire. We're selling at market, you see."
"Market?" I repeated. "Do they happen to sell clothes there? I'm… in need of a change," I said sheepishly.
Mrs. Tuckroot gave me an I-agree look, eyeing me up and down. "Oh yes, dear, all sorts. I'm… sure you could find something to suit you."
"Great! Er, where is it, exactly?"
"Why, in front of the Green Dragon, of course. It's just past the—well, I can do one better, and take you there myself!"
"Really? Erm, thanks!"
"Yes, of course. Children, watch the cabbages," Mrs. Tuckroot said, pulling the cart behind her. I easily kept up, having to slow my paces to match their small strides.
"I think she's a giant," I heard Timble whisper rather loudly.
"Hush, Tim! That's rather rude!" scolded Tula.
"She's still big…" he whispered to himself.
I hid my smile.
"So, what brings you to the Shire, if I may ask," inquired Mrs. Tuckroot. She seemed pleasant and her questions were more curious than prying.
"Well, I'm meeting some friends here," I answered honestly. "But not till later."
"Anyone we'd know? I can't think of a single person in Hobbiton who'd be expecting company like… Are they Tooks?"
"Ah, n-no. They're from out of town actually."
"From South Farthing? Or Overhill?"
"No. They're… from all over… Mostly west of here," I said vaguely.
"Mhm," hummed Mrs. Tuckroot, then clicked her tongue. I had a feeling she still insisted she'd know them. "Well. That's still a bit of a queer gathering for these parts, if you ask me, not that you did."
"You've no idea."
"Are you a giant?" asked Timble who had snuck up beside me.
"Tim!" hissed Tula.
"Timble," warned Mrs. Tuckroot, giving him a look. "Don't be rude."
He just kept staring up at me in awe.
"No," I grinned. "I'm human. Er, well, of the race of Men?"
He kept staring, unconvinced. "Can you touch the sky?"
"Hmmmm." I pretended to think about it, and reached a hand up. "Nope. Still pretty far... Here, see for yourself," I smirked, bending down and scooping him up. I carefully set him on my shoulders, his large feet dangling by my chin.
"Whoa!" he cried, kicking his legs in excitement. "You have to see this!"
Mrs. Tuckroot chuckled, and suddenly the girls were screaming with delight, trying to climb me like a ladder. "Merlin's beard, what have I started?" I muttered to myself, which was drowned out by their excited cheering.
"Now, girls," chided Mrs. Tuckroot. "Don't crowd her. Timble, stop pulling her hair."
"Go, pony, go!" he cried, pretending my hair was reins.
"I-it's okay," I told Mrs. Tuckroot, trying to keep a hold on Timble.
"Me next!" shouted Tula, jumping on the spot. I think she was about six or seven?
"Me! Me!" joined in Freesia, copying her sister's actions.
"I just ate a cloud!" bellowed Timble, grabbing my cheeks in glee.
Geez. I'd never been big on kids or babysitting but these guys were cute. Granted, if they had been human sized, they'd have taken me down easily, but the Hobbits were so light weight, I could probably carry all of them at once. Not a minute later, I was proven right. Timble was still sitting on my shoulders, Tula was piggybacking, and Freesia was in my arms—one hand holding each of the girls in place. It was ridiculous, and Mrs. Tuckroot kept asking if I was okay, but the kids kept laughing and cheering, so I put up with being a human amusement ride.
I actually kind of felt a lot better with them, with people that accepted me… even if most of them were still in diapers. It was nice.
We trekked downhill for a bit, passing the Party Tree and skirting around Bywater Pool. The lake was glistening in the sun, a few ducks roamed about and I could see a couple fishermen by the edge. The Green Dragon stretched along the lake, already open, and the market in the large courtyard out front was already bustling, as if some vendors had been set up before sunrise.
"Good morning, Alda, Alphra," nodded Mrs. Tuckroot. "Mr. Bucklebelt. Mrs. Bucklebelt. Winnia. Morning, Neville. Ms. Dew, is that a new dress?"
"Why yes, it is!"
"It suits you well, dear."
I still got looks, and the Tuckroots too for being associated with such a "strange and dodgy character" but they didn't seem to mind, and neither did I. The other Hobbit children we passed looked on in wonder and slight envy, egged on by Tula blowing them raspberries.
Mrs. Tuckroot finally stopped her cart and wedged it between a carrot vender and a sleeping old man selling herbs. I bent down to let the kids off, and they all groaned.
"Now, none of that," said their mother, folding out a little stand for the customers. "Ms. Emily has her own business to do. Garments are sold over that way, love. Oh, do avoid the woman with black hair—all she does is try to sell snails as soaps!"
I cringed. "Will do. Thanks… I'll see you guys later," I waved to the children who began whining to their mom to follow me.
Well, I was doubtful about finding clothes that would fit me but I had to give it a shot. Once in the row of tailors and seamstresses, I eyed up my options. Dresses were out of the question. So out of the question. I was going to catch enough hell as it is being the only human and the only girl on the quest, but wearing a frilly dress? That's like icing on the cake—I could already hear the face palms.
Several minutes of going through shocked merchants and explaining that I needed pants in my size, for me, not my husband, and that I wasn't joking ended up to be a total waste. The longest pair I found only went a little past my knees when I held them up. I'd have considered buying them anyway had it not been for the waist that was so wide, it could fit several of me in it.
With a heavy sigh, I looked towards the dresses.
It took a lot of window shopping and size guessing since there weren't any fitting rooms, but I managed to piece together a decent outfit after awhile. I picked out a ruffled blue button down, that'd hopefully not stain as much as my white one, and a powder blue bodice that went longer in the back. It was a thick material with little gold buttons up the front of the bodice which totally sold me—they had little sparrows on them! To complete the ensemble, I had to choose a bottom half, since Hobbit dresses typically weren't in one piece. I decided on a dark purple skirt which was shorter in the front—it was supposed to go over another layer for decoration, but I figured the cut would make riding much easier. Of course, I planned on wearing my leggings and uniform skirt underneath—the extra layer would do some good, that's all.
"Erm… Would this cover it?" I asked the merchant, spilling a few gold coins into my hand.
Her eyes went wide. "W-why, I—No, I'm afraid all together it should be five gold pieces actually," she grinned, hand hovering to be paid.
"Oh, okay…" I said, digging in Gandalf's money pouch.
"No it's not, Mrs. Barrow," said Tula, suddenly behind me with her siblings. "Didn't you sell your best dress yesterday for one gold piece?"
Mrs. Barrow shot her a glare, and daintily plucked one coin from my hand. "Oh, how could I forget…? This should be more than enough, dear," she said sweetly, but the look in her eyes said "scram".
I gathered by bundle of clothes and beat it. "Thank for that, Tula."
"Mhm. Mama says that Mrs. Barrow would sell her neighbor's garden if no one was looking," she recited proudly.
"Does your mom know you guys are here…?" I asked knowingly.
They paused. "Yes," they replied together.
"Uh huh…"
"Mama said we could play," Tula answered. "But we wanted to find you first."
"I'm touched."
"Look! Look! I told you she was real!" cried Timble, running towards us with a gaggle of other Hobbit children. I hadn't even seen him run off! "And she picked me up and I almost hit my head on the sun!"
"Did not," said another kid.
"Did too! Tell them, Ms… Ms… er...! Tell them!"
"Uh…" I hesitated, stuck in a kindergarten moral dilemma. Do I lie for the kid and subsequently set a bad example? Or do I tell his friends that he's an over imaginative little liar and have them mock him forever…? "How about… I tell you another story instead…?"
Evade and distract, always a good option.
An hour later, I found myself surrounded by probably every child in Hobbiton, all staring at me wide-eyed and open mouthed. It'd be a lie if I'd said I wasn't digging the attention.
"And then! Just when we thought we'd defeated it, the sun went down!" I cried. "And we were left in the dark with a hungry troll!"
A few of the younger ones gasped.
"Did it eat you?"
"Don't be thick, Tomas. Of course it didn't," frowned a boy.
"What did you do?" a little ginger girl asked.
"We didn't give up. We couldn't," I shrugged. "If we had, the troll wouldn't eaten us for sure."
"Were you afraid?"
I blinked. "Yeah! Terrified, actually… We all were…"
Some of the kids were looking a tad too scared for my liking. I didn't need them scarred for life or anything.
"But Prince Dean O'Gorman inspired us not to give up and we kept fighting! Even when we thought the troll had won!"
"How did you beat it?" one of the older boys asked.
"Well…" A Wizard and a King saved our asses then told us off for being stupid. I cleared my throat. "We put our hands together and with our combined super powers, we trapped the troll in… in a mirror!"
My little audience gasped and murmured.
"And then I cracked the mirror with my sword!" I said, making a stabbing motion with my hand. "And it shattered into a million pieces and the troll was gone! And we were safe! The end."
"Oooh."
"That wasn't so scary…"
"Can I see your sword?" asked an excited girl, tugging at the sheath.
I stepped back from her reach. "Uh, I don't think that's—"
"Tell us another story!"
"A-another…?" I squeaked. I didn't really have any other stories. None that had both a happy ending and enough excitement to hold the attention of a group of children. "Well, I could tell you another story… or we could play a game," I said with a smirk.
I was crouched along the edge of Bywater Lake, wedged between a pile of wicker baskets and a cart belonging to a sleeping woman, my breathing shallow and eyes sharp. I couldn't see them but I knew it was only a matter of time…
They'd find me.
A burst of giggles made me duck lower just as two kids ran by. That was close.
I'd been playing hide and seek for probably an hour, doing pretty alright for someone twice as tall as everyone else, thanks. We were alternating between me having to find all of them in the market square—there was twenty-six— and the children looking for me. So fair.
It was kind of nice though. Once the other Hobbits became used to my sudden role as babysitter and entertainer, they didn't seem as hostile towards me. Sure, some would shake their head at me but more times than not it was with a smile or chuckle.
I shifted onto my other foot, wishing I'd be caught already so I could stand and stretch my legs. I was getting a little bored, and incredibly antsy when I realized that it was getting later and later in the afternoon and that meant the Dwarves were getting closer. Good lord, they must all be traveling by now, right at this very minute.
My stomach did a little flip at the thought and I tried to distract myself. I picked at the twine that tied up the bundle of new clothes on my lap. I should probably change before they get here. Make a good first (for most) impression, if that were possible. I scoffed. Yeah just strip down behind someone's house. Be known as the naked woman no matter where I go. Brilliant.
I glanced around the market, trying to see if the children had given up. Some had, the younger ones, going back to their parents, but the older bunch was determined. I peered through the wicker baskets, looking out for the best seekers when I spotted someone else. My mouth gaped, and I poked my head up to get a better view. Just a few rows away, looking rather fidgety in his blue jacket and pants, was none other than Bilbo Baggins. He was leaned over a wagon of potatoes, scrutinizing their appearance and giving them a squeeze, but every so often, he would look up and glance around as if expecting something to come at him. Geeze, Gandalf did a real number on him, huh?
I bit my lip. Well, what do I do now? Should I leave him alone or is this a good time to—
"Found you!"
I yelped, ducking back down to find Tula's ribbon-ed foot hair standing next to me. She grinned at me then cupped her hands, shouting, "I've found her! Over here! I've found her!"
Her shouts hadn't woken the Hobbit woman beside us, surprisingly.
Tula tilted her head. "It wasn't very hard with you sticking your head up like that. What were you doing?"
"Nothing," I lied and she raised her brows.
"Really?" she asked, looking over my shoulder to where I'd been staring. "I don't see anything interesting. Was it the carpenter?"
"No."
"The belt maker?"
"No."
"The old windmill? I like to look at it sometimes."
"N—"
"The chickens? The radishes? The potatoes? The—"
"Tula, no—I," I sighed. "I thought I recognized some—"
"Oh! Was it…" She paused, her bright eyes scanning the crowd. "It was Mr. Baggins, wasn't it?"
I stammered at her accuracy with disbelief. "W-w-what? I-I don't—what? Y-you—how did you?"
She smirked knowingly. "Aunt Lileeta likes to stare at him too. She says he… 'he looks like apricot pie tastes'. I don't know what that means but she always gets this odd look on her face when mama mentions his name and she always takes the long way to our smial so she has to walk by his."
"I…Uh."
Her eyes lit up. "Do you fancy him, Ms. Emily?" she asked excitedly. "I think you do!"
"What? No! I-I've never even met him. I just-"
"Where was she hiding?" asked Ollie, who came running up to us, Timble, Marigo, Bareeta, Tomas, and Joon in tow.
"Behind these wicker baskets," said Tula proudly.
"Aw, I almost looked there!" Ollie moaned.
"Almost doesn't count," said Marigo.
"Ms. Emily wants to meet Mr. Baggins," Tula told them. "I think she fancies him."
"Whoa, whoa! I do not fancy— Are you listening?"
"That makes sense," said Ollie with a frown. "They're both a little…" He pulled a face.
The others nodded.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I glared, but they didn't seem to care.
A few of the others ran off, leaving me to pout at Tula, Ollie and Tomas, the latter standing around idly. "What exactly did that mean?" I pressed.
Ollie didn't even blink. "Just that… you know," he shrugged.
"No," I frowned. "I definitely do not know."
There was a cry of surprise behind me and I knew who it was before turning. "Wh-what are they doing?" I cried, the children swarming Bilbo like angry bees.
"We thought you would like to meet Mr. Baggins," Tula said casually.
My eyes bulged. "YOU WHAT? You're bringing him here?!"
"Well, you would be harder to force over, wouldn't you?" Ollie answered, like it was obvious. "Being all… big."
I growled in frustration, wanting to run and hide again. Instead, I stood my ground, and tried to gather my thoughts. Maybe this was a good thi—oh no… Horrified, I watched as the girls pulled at Bilbo's arms and coat while Timble, who was a little over excited, was screaming and pushing on his rear rather enthusiastically. My hand flew to my mouth.
"I—excuse me! Little boy, if you could stop that! Wh-where are your parents?" Bilbo stammered, failing to break free of the zealous children. "I'm rather busy, if you don't mind! Are you listening? H-hello?" He chuckled nervously, looking around the market. "Does no one see this?"
Oh great, he was using his frantic I-can't-believe-this-is-happening voice. So much for a good first impression.
"Hey, kids, quit it," I said sternly, attempting to take charge. "Timble, please stop wailing on his—Girls, he's not a rag doll!"
Timble fell back, thank goodness, and began jumping on the spot and cheering. But the girls tugged and pulled him on despite his and my protests.
Bilbo caught sight of me, realizing I was the destination the children were dragging him towards. He may have done five double takes in a row before he narrowed his eyes. Then the girls finally let go once we were face to face. Well, as face to face as we could get—he stood about to the middle of my chest, just a half a foot shorter than the princes. The children stood back, looking pleased, whereas we just awkwardly eyed each other. I was about to mutter a short "hello" in an attempt to mask the tension but Bilbo took charge and spoke first, rather annoyed.
"What's this all about?" he demanded, pointing from the children to me like I'd set this all up.
"I—sorry about them," I said sheepishly. "They're not mine. I-I'm just babysitting or something. Not even! I was shopping and I just got swept up and stuff! Well, it started with a story about a troll in an ancient Elven city and then hide and seek—no, wait. It really started with cabbages and just… sort of escalated from there."
Bilbo blinked a few times, "Sorry, do I know you?" he asked, unsure of what to make of me who was clearly not a Hobbit and clearly not from around here.
"No," I replied quickly. "You don't, Mr.…uh." I wasn't sure if I let on that I knew him or not.
"Baggins," he supplied, his manners taking over. "Bilbo Baggins."
"She knows who you are!" Tula cut in, happily. "And she really likes pie!"
"Tula!"
I glared at the blonde for blowing my cover. Timble started screaming victoriously. Bilbo looked confused, mouthing the word "pie". And then the worst happened.
We both turned to see Hobbit boy charging at us like a rodeo bull. Then before we could utter more than two syllables ("My goodn—" and "Oh, shh!" respectively), little Timble rammed into Bilbo who crashed into me, which sent us both toppling over, right into the lake.
I came up sputtering and instinctively shot up from the water, as Bilbo scrambled away from me. I pushed my fringe from my eyes to take in the damage. With frantic hands, I buttoned my blazer, hoping that I'd been the only one to glimpse by bra through my shirt. The wet schoolgirl look so wasn't good on me. Well, we were both soaking wet, but relatively unharmed.
The water in the shallows was lukewarm but it did little to lesson my loss of dignity. I groaned.
Bilbo looked at me, abashed. "I didn't mean to, miss… I couldn't catch my balance, you see?" he apologized. "That little… he's a lot stronger than you'd imagine!"
I grinned, relieved that he hadn't thrown the blame on me. "It's alright. I'm cool."
He looked worried. "A-are you cold? Here, let me help you up," he said, offering a hand which I gratefully took. I was a bit heavier than he had figured, I suppose, because I found my fingers slipping through his and my butt firmly planted itself back in the muddy shoal. Bilbo looked mortified, and despite his embarrassment, I couldn't stop myself from bursting out laughing.
I couldn't get any muddier or soaked. All my good first impressions—right out the window! It was so frigging typical.
Bilbo cracked a slight smile as I continued to laugh at my sad situation. "Ah… I am sorry about all this," he motioned to the lake. He turned toward the shore and squinted; the children were smart enough to scram before we got to them. Only my bundle of clothes was left by the shore. "Don't know what got into those children," he said to himself, shaking his head. "Normally so well behaved… This is just one incredible bout of misfortune after another…"
I got to my feet and walked with him to the edge of the lake. "I'm Emily Parker," I introduced, finally doing something right.
"Bilbo Baggins," he replied, straightening his pale green ascot. "Well, you apparently already knew that... Do you know what that was all about…?"
I raised my brows innocently. "No idea."
He sighed, aggravated now that the ordeal was over. "Oh, my coat," groaned Bilbo, wringing it out at the bottom with vigor. "And I haven't even finished shopping!" he muttered to himself, placing his hands on his hips. "And here my day couldn't get any…"
Bilbo paused, turning to me. "You… you haven't seen a Wizard around here, have you?"
Oh crap. "A Wizard…?" I didn't want to outright lie to him but if he knew I was in cahoots with Gandalf… I decided to take his question literally and chose to interpret "here" as "here in this market" and so I shook my head and replied confidently, "Nope. Not around here!"
He pursed his lips and nodded, scanning the courtyard once again. My answer didn't seem to satisfy him. Bilbo had enough sense and pessimism to realize he hadn't seen the last of Gandalf the Grey.
I retrieved my poor bundle of clothes from the ground, brushing them off. Well, it could've gone much worse, I thought. I could've crashed into him. Or, god forbid, someone a bit more intimidating that a Hobbit. Gosh, I wonder if Thorin's left the Blue Mountains yet… He must have. If I stood on a high enough hill, could I spot him?
Probably not.
I noticed, with a start, that Bilbo was staring at me expectantly. "Er, what?"
"I asked if you lived around here…?" he repeated, eyeing me skeptically.
"No. I—No. I'm just meeting some people here later today… much later."
Bilbo raised a brow. "You're meeting people here? In Hobbiton?"
Was it really that outlandish for "big folk" to drop by the Shire? Maybe. I laughed nervously. "Yeah. I didn't set the time and place," I shrugged. "Just got the memo."
"In the Green Dragon, I suppose?" he went on, nodding behind us at the inn.
I glanced over. "Oh, no. Uh, there isn't really a set place. Just… here." I gestured with open arms. "In general."
"So, you… you've nowhere to go until… tonight?"
"I guess not. I was just going to walk around," I said with a small shrug.
Bilbo cleared his throat. "Then I must insist you come back with me. To my house," he said certainly. "For tea and a change of clothes."
"Wait, what?"
"If you find it acceptable, that is," he nodded.
"A-are you sure? I don't want to impose or anything…" I replied, totally caught off guard by his kind offer. Bilbo Baggins was inviting me back to his place? Weirdo, outcast, blue-haired me?
He waved my concerns away. "No, no, I insist. If it weren't for my crashing into you, and… and those blasted little…" He mumbled something that I didn't catch. "Well. You wouldn't be sopping wet. Besides, you said your friends wouldn't be here until later this evening?"
"That's right."
"Well, you could wait at my home until they arrive, if you like."
I was so flabbergasted I wasn't sure how to even accept. "That would be- I—yes, please! Thank you!"
Bilbo smiled warmly, looking unworried for the first time since I saw him. "You're quite welcome," he nodded. "Though, I hope you don't mind rushing to buy dinner. I'm expecting—well, never mind. We're hardly fit for public in these clothes anyway."
"Of course I don't mind," I told him. "Lead the way."
We didn't dawdle much at all at the market, thank god. The feel of wet polyester against my skin had begun to make me self-conscious, and I walked the remainder of our shopping with my arms crossed over my chest as best as I could without dampening my spare clothes too badly. I had wanted to say goodbye to Mrs. Tuckroot and her kids but I didn't have the chance. Bilbo wasted no time in purchasing two fish and some vegetables before high tailing it back to Bag End.
"Just at the top of the hill," Bilbo called. He was speed walking so quickly (when no Hobbits were around to see, that is) that I had to jog to keep up.
His gate didn't creak as he opened it and held it for me, (I could've probably stepped over it without too much trouble), nor did its handle rattle when he latched it. Bilbo led me up the steps on the path, both of us leaving a slight trail of puddles. He turned the knob and gestured for me to enter. I thought it strange that he didn't have to unlock the door. Maybe Hobbits never did whilst they were away? Did they really feel that comfortable in the Shire that risk of robbery or home invasion was so far removed from their minds?
It must be nice, living here.
"Welcome to Bag End," he said cordially, and with a slight air of incredibility as if he was only now realizing the absurdity of inviting someone like me into his home.
I smiled to try and reassure him that I wasn't a total loon. It seemed so surreal as I walked past him, into Bag End! My head just cleared the doorway, and as my shadow crossed over the door, I could have sworn I saw the faint glow of the rune Gandalf had etched into the wood. I tried not to stare in case Bilbo would have noticed; he'd undoubtedly try to fix it immediately.
"Here, why don't we change first," Bilbo suggested picking at his coat again. "There's a spare room you can use just down the oak hall and to the right."
"Okay. Thanks," I said, starting down the hall.
The designated room was actually a bathroom, to my surprise. It was probably the quaintest bathroom I'd even seen. It had its own small fireplace to warm the area, a long shelf above it with bottles and cloths, a flower-patterned white porcelain tub, wash basin and, perhaps the most surprising of all, a toilet bowl. It wasn't shaped like the ones we had on earth but it was clearly connected to a pipe system and had a water reserve over top with a pull-string, which, by my testing, set about a flush mechanism. It was inventive and damn effective, I thought. So much farther ahead than the Bree's chamber pot business.
After my initial curiosity, I started to undress, draping my wet clothing on the low bathtub, and toweled off a little before changing. It took some patience to carefully do up all the buttons, but it wasn't too much of a hassle. I had to compromise the size of everything, of course—the blouse I'd picked was loose and stopped near the elbows and the skirt fell an inch past my knees in the front and to mid-calf in the back. But it'd do. I checked myself out in the small hanging mirror, and frowned slightly.
It felt like I was in a costume, on my way to a Renaissance Faire or a convention like I'd done a dozen times before. For a split second, I could have been at my own home, standing in my room, waiting for Jen to call and say she and her brother were outside to pick me up.
My eyes startled to prickle and I looked away from my reflection, finding my tattered school uniform on the tub. It was like I was trading one life for another. I shut my eyes and took in deep breaths, willing myself not to cry.
Not now, Em, I told myself. Even my mental voice was shaking. Not now.
I gathered my uniform, my boots dangling from one hand, and left, looking for Bilbo. His front door was open ajar.
The Dwarves couldn't have arrived yet. It was too early. And too quiet.
I poked my head out the door. "Bilb- er, Mr. Baggins...?"
"Oh, Ms. Parker!" came his voice, much to my relief. "I'm just around the bend. If you could bring your wet, er, your wet clothing."
I followed his voice around to the back of the hill, where he stood by a clothes line. Ah. He was in a pair of brown pants (more like capris, I'd say) and a white button up with blue stripes. His curly hair was rather flattened like he'd just brushed it which made his large, pointed ears prominently show through. It was kind of cute.
"There are a few hours of sun left. It should dry them well enough," Bilbo said, glancing over to me. At seeing me, his eyes widened then he quickly looked away. Yeah, I looked a bit silly, and probably indecent for all Middle Earthen standards, but it was all I could do until my clothes dried.
I dropped my boots on the grass—once they dried off out here, they should be alright to wear. I doubted Bilbo would mind the addition of my bare feet in his house anyway.
"Here," he said, offering to help. "There's room on this end."
I smiled, handing him my wet blazer and skirt. I didn't feel comfortable with him handling my tights and dingy-as-hell shirt. "Thanks."
He nodded with his brow furrowed, perhaps a little stunned that I was so appreciative. "Yes. Of course." Honestly, if it weren't for his kindness, I'd be still walking aimlessly around the Shire, leaving a trail of lake water behind me.
I watched as Bilbo fitted a wooden clothespin over my blazer's sleeve, giving it an extra push to make sure it stuck. It was so strange, I found, watching him, and seeing him, not the character that I'd known since I was a little kid. He was a person. An actual real person that I could talk to and touch and travel with. He wasn't just a bunch of adjectives, a list of deeds and titles, and a vague mental image—he was a living, breathing person.
And here I was, standing next to him. Interacting. Living and breathing right with him.
It was crazy. More than that. It was like the incomprehensible awe that came with meeting Thorin, and the other Dwarves. Only… different. With Bilbo it was different, like a quiet awe that didn't render me speechless or dumb. I was just left smiling stupidly.
Bilbo rubbed his hands together, admiring the hanging clothes. "That should take care of it," he said, turning to me. He faltered at seeing me grinning at him and shifted his eyes, nervously.
I sobered and cleared my throat. "So! Uh."
"Tea," he filled in, setting us back on track.
"Right."
Bilbo left me in the parlor with the instruction to make myself at home while he was busy in the adjourning kitchen. I sat down at first on a mustard yellow armchair, twiddling my thumbs and just looking around. But soon, I began to fidget and my mind strained to wander to darker places, like the future, and the past. But then a soft melody drew me back to the present as Bilbo began to hum a song from the other room. I didn't recognize it but it was… calming, along with the sounds of pouring water and clinking of porcelain.
I stood up, wandering around and finally letting myself go and enjoy the fact that I was in the Bag End. I'd been worried I'd flip out on him and fangirl but… I'm not sure what it was but my excitement was easier to control. Instead of the bubbling energy that comes from, say, an amusement park, I was more so filled with a simmering contentment, like one gets while visiting a relative or a friend. It sort of made sense. And it didn't. I wasn't too sure what it was, but Bilbo made me feel comfortable and welcome and silly that I'd ever think otherwise.
"Ah, I've the kettle on. It should be ready soon," called Bilbo, poking his head out of the doorway. "Is there a particular blend of tea that you prefer?"
I raised my brows in thought. "Um. Not really," I shrugged. "Whatever you like should be fine, thanks."
Bilbo blinked, nodded once, and retreated back into the kitchen.
Wow. Look at me, acting all mannerly and polite. Not that I wasn't normally but… I was standing straight, hands held in front of me, speaking properly. Was it the dress or the company affecting me?
I walked over to the stone hearth, eyeing the pictures hanging above it—a man and a woman with dark curly hair. I assumed they were Bilbo's parents.
I wondered if he missed them.
Well, of course he did. Probably. I don't actually know much about them, aside from his mother being a Took, and probably adventurous because of it.
I wondered how they died. And when. How did he cope…? Aside from Frodo, I don't recall Bilbo being very close to his relatives. And Frodo wasn't even born yet. So who did he have to help with his grieving?
I bit my lip gently, turning away from the pictures and those thoughts. Looking down into the fireplace, I considered if it could be the one. You know, the one, where Gandalf tosses the Ring into the fire to see if the inscription appears. There were so many fireplaces in Bag End, I couldn't be sure, but… if I had to guess. This was it.
Crazy. This place held so much history, and most of it hadn't even happened yet.
A thin smile spread across my face. God, this place was gorgeous. Everything about it—the woodwork, the rounded designs, the stone, the quaint little furniture, and curious items. Talk about a dream house, I thought, running a hand over the arch of the doorway.
Bilbo cleared his throat softly. I spun around to see him set a tray on the table. "The tea's ready," he said, a small smirk on his lips at catching me admiring his house.
"I was just… Your home is so gorgeous," I admitted, allowing myself to gush. I sat down in one of the wooden chairs, waving him off with an "Oh, I got it, thanks" when he moved to pull out my chair.
"Thank you," he said whole-heartedly. He seemed to take great pride in his hole. "My father built it, many years ago, for my mother."
"All by himself?"
Bilbo nodded. "All by himself," he confirmed, as he poured me a cup of light colored tea and asked, "Do you take sugar in your tea, Ms. Parker?"
"Yes, thanks," I replied then added quietly. "And, it's just Emily. I-if that's okay? I-I know we just met and I'm not that sure about Hobbit customs or anything but, if you want to call me Emily, it's cool, I mean okay. You know?"
Bilbo looked surprised for a moment then nodded once he processed what I'd said. "Yes. That's fine, of course. In that case, it's Bilbo for me... If that's okay," he joked, making me laugh.
"Totally okay, Bilbo."
"Well. That's a relief, Emily."
I gave a snort of laughter and he chuckled, stirring my tea then getting his own. The tea was still steaming as I gently blew across the top. I took a daring sip, bracing for my tongue to get scorched, but it didn't do any damage.
"Mm. This is really good," I commented, taking another sip.
Bilbo straightened in his seat. "You like it?"
"Mm-hmm!"
"Its lemongrass and ginger root," he answered, looking pleased that he'd chosen it. "Straight from the garden."
"Your own garden?"
"That's right. I've several plants and fruits for making teas. I've actually honey suckles imported from the plains of Rohan, or so Mr. Greenhand says; but it's much too late in the season for them. Shame, really," he went on, trailing off in thought.
I eyed a plate of small biscuits and fruit tarts, debating if I should tuck in when my stomach gave a low growl that he either didn't hear or pretended not to hear (probably the latter). So I grabbed a tart and took a bite (instead of eating it whole like I wanted to). Delicious, naturally. Did he bake them himself? I ate another, washing it down with tea. Don't eat the whole platter in one go, Em.
Bilbo snapped to when I took a particularly noisy sip. "There, er, actually has been a nasty swarm of thrips that came by just last week. Mucked up a lot of the gardens, I've heard. Just had a batch of lady beetles let in to combat the little buggers." He paused. "Sorry, that's hardly tea conversation, is it? Erm, well, you know where I live," he said. "How about you? Where's your home?"
The teacup pressed against my lips. I didn't drink, caught off guard by his question. All of a sudden half of my fears came rushing for me. "Oh…" I set the cup on its saucer, looking somberly at my lap. "Um…"
Bilbo immediately saw my change in demeanor and tried to backtrack. "You don't have to answer. I was only trying to—"
"No, no. Its fine," I cut him off, shaking my head. "I just… I haven't been home for awhile. And I really miss it."
He faltered slightly. The concept of missing home must be so foreign to him. "Is… there a reason you haven't gone back…?"
I drew in a deep breath. "I don't know how," I admitted with a sigh. He looked puzzled at my words. "Well. It's… My home's far away, like really far, and… I really don't know if or when I'll go back." I took a gulp of tea which had cooled, trying to force the tension from my vocals. "I'm kind of on a busy schedule," I laughed, hoping to lighten the mood.
Distract yourself, Emily.
"But I came from the East," I told him.
"The east? How far east, if I may?" he inquired, watching my reactions closely so as not to step on a sore subject.
"Very, very east."
Bilbo's brows furrowed at my reply.
"Um. Farther than… Mirk— er, the Greenwood," I tried to clarify. "Like way past there."
"Farther… like Rhûn?"
Uhhhhh… Rhûn. That was…near Mordor, right? Sauron got some of his allies there, right? With the Oliphaunts. I think. "Yeah, close to that… but farther."
"E-even farther than-?" Bilbo started. "I… I don't think I've anything farther on my maps… If you'll give me a moment?" More than curious now, he nearly leapt from his seat, going to sift through the papers on his desk in the corner cubby. "Where exactly were you from, Emily?"
"Massachusetts," I replied automatically.
I looked at him in shock, my mouth slowly gaping.
"Massa…" he began then tilted his head. "No, I've never heard of that." Bilbo pulled out one of his maps. "And that's east of Rhûn?"
"Uh… Um, yeah."
I stared at him in a daze. Where had that come from? Bilbo brought a large map of his over to the table, pushing the tray aside to make room. How did he manage to disarm me that easily? With only tea and manners?
He was pointing to something on the map. "No…," he muttered softly. "No, the farthest I have on my map is the Sea of Rhûn… I'll have to correct it. Massashoo—sorry, what was it called again?"
I blinked. "Erm. Massachusetts."
"Right… Could you possibly spell that for me? For my notes," Bilbo added, hurrying to his desk to grab a quill and parchment. "I-I'm very interested in places, you see. And this… discovery… well, I find it remarkable."
"Sure... Uh. M-A-S-S-A-C-H-U-S-E-T-T-S," I said in a drone, still incredulous at my admission. I think spelled it right, right?
"Thank you." He looked pleased.
I just threw a major part of my secret out the window. I hadn't even told Gandalf of the specifics—
"Do you happen to recall any landmarks or distinctive features? For map purposes entirely."
"T-there was a forest," I told him. "A pine forest in the back of my house…"
Bilbo scribbled that down eagerly.
"We lived just outside of Danvers. That's a city, near a more famous city, Salem…" I continued, my heart swelling with the memories. "Our cities in the east are a lot different than here. It's all metal, glass, and cement, that's a type of stone, and the buildings can be huge. Big sharp edged things, like big rectangles—not that pretty but they're sturdy. Some are so tall we call them skyscrapers!"
Bilbo had stopped taking notes, and instead gave me his full attention.
"And most people don't grow their own crops, well some do, but we buy food in these stores called supermarkets. They have everything! There's even a section made to keep food cold or frozen! It can last for weeks—or longer!"
"You freeze food?"
"Mhm."
"And the taste...?"
"It's fine!"
I rambled on for another ten minutes or so, the onslaught of nostalgia and the inability of sharing a part of myself for months loosening my tongue. I'd told Thrain some things about my family and home life but nothing too specific. At the time, I'd worried that whatever I'd told him would end up at Sauron's disposal. I had on the other hand begun to tell Thrain of Harry Potter, in the context of it being a historical record, of course. We'd gotten up to the middle of The Goblet of Fire before he, well, before I'd lost him. I wish I could've told him more about me. One of my biggest regrets, and I have many.
"That sounds amazing," said Bilbo softly, once I'd finally stopped talking. "It almost sounds like a tall tale."
I grinned. "Well, it's the real deal."
I turned my head towards the window as Bilbo finished his map notes on Massachusetts, after I'd roughly described its shape as "like a rectangle wearing a boot". The sun had nearly finished setting, only a thin red glow over the horizon. It made my heart thump hard in my chest. That much closer.
"Do you think your friends are in the Shire…?"
Bilbo's voice startled me from my worries. "Oh, uh. No, I don't think… Not yet. It'll be dark by the time they arrive…"
"Ah."
I suddenly felt a bit bad for taking up his whole day. This was the only peace he'll get until… probably a long time.
"You know," I spoke up slowly. "I could just…"
"No!" Bilbo all but exclaimed. "Well. You're free to leave whenever you'd like but, well, I was hoping you'd stay for dinner?"
I blinked. "I. Yes."
He smiled in relief.
"You're sure I'm not imposing…? Because I really wouldn't be—"
"You're not imposing in the slightest," Bilbo reassured me. "Now. How do you feel about trout?"
Not long after, the sound and smells of sizzling fish and seasonings wafted through the air. My stomach was starting to twist at the mouthwatering scents, but part of me knew it was more than my appetite that drove my knotting stomach. It was happening. I couldn't stop it. They were coming.
I'd been tapping my feet incessantly, fidgeting running high. Oh Merlin, here we go. I wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt before standing to pace the room.
"Uh… Erm… Bilbo?" I called, hoping to distract myself.
He didn't answer, so I went into the kitchen. Bilbo looked up startled. "Is something wrong?" he asked, looking concerned.
"No," I said quickly, too quickly to not sound suspicious. "I was just wondering if I could help…?"
The Hobbit looked ready to sigh. "Of course not, I've told you twice before," he replied patiently. "Guests should be relaxing, not bustling about with the host. I'm nearly done as it is." He turned from me to flip the fish in the skillet, trying to pretend like he didn't know I was still there. His shoulders slumped. "Alright. You can fetch the plates from the cupboard."
"Okay!"
I merrily did so, following his ongoing instructions of "The second shelf", "The large sized ones", and "Do be careful! Those are quite delicate!"
"Okay."
I had to bend down slightly to reach the second shelf—cute.
"Really, please don't drop them."
"I won't. Two right?"
"Er…" he trailed off suddenly. "Ye… er, yes."
I glanced at him, unsure of why he was faltering, and found the Hobbit gaping rather oddly at my feet. I raised a brow and Bilbo immediately realized what he'd been doing and his eyes snapped up to meet mine. He went a little red in the face and shook his head.
"I didn't mean to stare! I just… Honestly, I find it hard to imagine someone so tall with such small feet. How on earth do you keep from toppling over?" he questioned, then backtracked. "I—sorry. That was very rude, wasn't it?"
I grinned. "Not really. I am actually kind of awful with balance… but I think it's a me thing and not a human thing."
"Human?"
"The race of Men," I clarified.
"Yes, I—well, I just assumed you were an Elf," he said incredulously. "You mean to say you're not even half-Elven?"
I burst out laughing, "You know that's the second time someone's said that to me! What is it about me that screams Elf? Nothing I can imagine! It's not like I'm a six foot supermodel!"
Bilbo attempted to chuckle with me, trying to feel less embarrassed at his mistake, but it came out forced. "I've never seen a real Elf before, up close, at least," he admitted. "I thought your hair… Sorry, is it a sensitive subject?"
I snorted, making him bristle slightly. "No, it's more of a fashion statement."
He didn't react.
"I dyed it, like you dye clothes," I explained, recalling Dis' words. "No real reason; I was just daring and a little silly."
"Ah…" It was clear he either didn't understand or didn't agree with my choice of bodily alteration. Was everyone in Middle Earth my parents?
Bilbo looked despondent. Was it just me or did he seem a bit put off, having thought he'd been talking to an Elf this whole time? Oh crap, was that the only reason he put up with me?
"Sorry."
"What? N-no!" Bilbo stammered. "There's nothing to apologize for! It was my mistake. I shouldn't have assumed."
I gave a slight smile, setting the plates on the counter. "Is there anything else…?"
"If you insist," he sighed. "You can set the table?"
"Okay! Sure."
After completing the task, I stood idly in the dining room. My fists squeezed tighter as I saw the sun had gone and all was dark outside. I caught myself picking at the skin around my thumb and stopped. Breathe, Em. This is good.
I stared out the window, watching for signs of movement, of a dark figure or two walking towards the smial but saw none.
Everything's fine, Em.
I craned my neck back, staring hopelessly at the ceiling, now suddenly regretting all of my life decisions.
"Breathe."
"Here we are," smiled Bilbo, coming into the room with two steaming plates.
I threw on a happy face for his behalf but it must've looked pained for he then asked, "Are you feeling well?"
"Huh? Oh, er, yeah. Mhm," I lied. "Dandy."
Bilbo looked unconvinced but let the matter drop.
I sat down, looking at the fish for help, as if it could talk and calm my nerves. But it didn't. Bilbo stuffed a cloth napkin into his shirt, and I followed suit. I picked up my fork—my hand was shaking badly but thankfully Bilbo didn't notice. He grabbed his own utensils, looking quite eager to tuck in. I rested my hand on the table, thoroughly ready to vomit from antici—
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
It sounded like Hagrid was trying to break the door in! Bilbo froze, looking up at me, startled and then extremely miffed at the interruption.
"Who in the…" he mumbled to himself, before removing his dinner napkin and standing. "At this time of evening?"
I stood as well, very quickly, causing the chair to squeak.
"Emily, don't get up," he said. "I'll take care of whoever it is."
I nodded and watched in silent horror as he left to answer the door.
This is it!
Be cool. Be cool. Be cool.
I nodded at my mental encouragement. I can do this.
This is okay!
If things are working right, it should be Dwalin. Only Dwalin. You're cool.
Dwalin who saw you dribble like an infant and whose leg you shot with an arrow, a unhelpful part of me reminded.
"I can't do this," I whispered, ripping the napkin from my neck and dashing down the hall.
Bilbo was halfway to the door, grabbing his housecoat off a hook, when I shot past him. "E-Emily?"
"Bathroom!" I shouted back, not stopping until I was inside and the door firmly locked behind me.
I leaned against the door, trying to calm my frantic breathing. Bilbo was speaking now. Merlin's beard, why did I run? Why can't I just act normal?! From here I could distinguish another, rougher voice entering the Hobbit hole. I shut my eyes briefly, deciding then and there that I wasn't coming out.
"Emily Parker, this is the reason you aren't a Gryffindor," I hissed to myself, then sighed deeply.
Footnotes
1) This chapter's made me think on toilets way too much.
If it weren't for the "you won't believe what they've done to the plumbing" line, I'd have assumed Hobbits have a chamber pot method of disposing of waste, like seen in Lake Town( except for Bard's gross ass family who just go in the lake apparently). Even though the line was more to be funny than add crucial Hobbit daily life info, it got me thinking.
On the official film floorplan of Bag End, there is no labeled bathroom—so either is there a discreet outhouse, or there's an unmarked room, or there's a chamber pot in say a bedroom or so? The latter wouldn't work with the line, and neither would the outhouse—no plumbing, right? But also, it doesn't seem to fit into a Hobbit's life of comfort, does it? Imagine having THAT MANY meals a day—going to need to use the loo often, yeah? Why would a Hobbit go outside to go, or empty the pot? Why would they leave the warmth and coziness of their hole, especially in winter—they wouldn't. And therefore, I can, without guilt or doubt, headcanon that the Hobbits were the only race to develop a plumbing system—merely to provide maximum comfort to their own lives. Where do these pipes lead you may ask? Well, it must've taken a lot of fertilizer to make that Party Tree grow so big, that's all I'm saying.
And so, I turned the 'spare room' on the floorplan into a bathroom. This was such a tedious note haha.
2) Originally, I'd planned on incorporating meeting Bilbo and the Dwarves in this chapter, but it ran too long. It was going to end with a very different person knocking on the door... ;]