'Tis said their forms are tiny, yet all human ills they can subdue,
or with a wand or amulet can win a maiden's heart for you, and many a blessing know to stew.
To make to wedlock bright; Give honour to the dainty crew.
The Pixies are abroad tonight.'
- Unknown
In defence of the Hobbit, he couldn't possibly have known his departure from Bag-End would cause so much chaos. His decision to join the quest had been a last-minute thing, in which his younger self had taken the reigns, so to speak. Any notion of responsibility toward his home had flown from his mind the moment his little legs raced out of the door and through Hobbiton, replaced with the great urge to find Gandalf and the dwarves before they disappeared completely. He hadn't considered who'd look after Bag-End while he was away. After all, his entire pantry had been raided and demolished by the dwarven party the night before, so there was no risk of food going bad and stinking out his home. Nor did he have any relatives demanding his presence and care.
Clearly, he'd been wrong about that one.
The young woman sat astride his pony had come as much of a shock to him as it had to the others. Partly, it'd been due to the fact she'd appeared as if from nowhere, and partly because she bore an extreme resemblance to an imaginary friend he'd had as a child. He hadn't given her a second thought since his mother had told him his 'little friend' from their garden wasn't a real being but, in fact, a creation of his own mind. Even now he could recall the devastation he'd felt back then, how he'd screamed and cried that his 'little friend' was as real as Hobbits and Wizards. In time those foolish beliefs faded into memory, now they were a laughable tale from his youth.
Or so he'd thought.
For a moment he'd worried that the impulsive decision to leave Bag-End and join a quest had triggered a reaction in his mind, some form of stress-related illness bringing forth the imaginary being he'd played with as a child. However, the ponies around him had all been urged to stop the second she appeared, the dwarves astride them reaching for their weapons almost immediately. He wasn't the only one who could see her. Whether this was better or worse had yet to be determined.
"I-I'm sorry, who are you?" the Hobbit asked, somewhat warily. This woman had shouted his full name in the same way his mother had when he'd dragged mud across the carpet as a child. It was... familiar.
The woman laughed, a sound Bilbo would've found beautiful had he not spotted the sharp fangs right beside her front teeth. "'Who are you?', he asks, as though we didn't spend many wonderful years together."
Bilbo flinched when the woman shuffled closer, a tinge of pink dusting his cheeks. He didn't even want to think about what the dwarves were assuming of him right now. A young and quite lovely-looking woman as close as she could be without physically crawling inside of him, her smooth hands placed on either side of his face to draw him in even further.
"Are you sure, my wonderful Gardener?" she spoke quietly, only for him to hear. Her eyes, the colour of the hills surrounding the Shire, stared deep into his own, as if she was looking for something. "Think a little harder, Bilbo. What is my name?"
Bilbo couldn't remember. At least, he assumed he didn't remember. After a mere second or two of staring into the woman's eyes, the name rolled right off his tongue before he could even fully process it. "Poppy. Your name is Poppy."
The smile she gave him then was full of warmth, her eyes glowing with happiness, and he couldn't help but give her a small smile in return. It was rather peculiar, how the mere mention of her name brought forth an onslaught of emotion. Stranger than that, she seemed to know it too. "My darling Hobbit," she gushed, tilting her head forward to nuzzle the upturned tip of her nose against his.
"Gandalf, you did not mention our burglar had a woman waiting at home."
"Ah!" The young woman, Poppy, Bilbo now knew, straightened where she sat, as though she only just remembered they had a gathering around them. "He has several," she informed Thorin, looking back over her shoulder at the leader of the company. "Eight of us, actually."
Bilbo began to stutter in embarrassment. He could hear the harsh mumbles of disapproval from the dwarves. Partly, he was relieved. The spell he'd fallen under due to Poppy's presence had faded, and now he could focus on the more important matters.
"Is that my nightwear?"
"Oh, yes," she replied. "Apologies, little Baggins, you ran so fast from us that I barely had the time or energy to find something to wear." Poppy smoothed her hands over the ankle-length nightdress, though her position on the pony had pulled it up to her knees. "Such a lovely thing, not as finicky as other things you lot wear."
"Eight wives?" wondered a voice nearby. Bilbo turned his head and found the young dwarves, Fili and Kili, if he remembered correctly, had brought their ponies to stand beside his. "Didn't take you as the type, Master Baggins," chuckled the darker-haired dwarf, with something akin to admiration.
"It's always the quiet ones, eh?" laughed the golden-haired dwarf.
Poppy's head tilted to the side. "Wives?" she questioned, only to shake her head afterwards. "Not wives," she stated, seeming disgusted by the very idea of it. "Daughters."
Bilbo wasn't sure if his cheeks could redden any further. "I've never been married!" he exclaimed, startling the young woman in front of him. He could tell the dwarves hadn't thought much of him to begin with, so he couldn't even imagine how they'd look at him if they thought he'd abandoned his own children.
Poppy released a groan. "Specifics bore me."
"I think in this situation the specifics are necessary," the Hobbit replied with a sliver of desperation.
"I suppose," huffed Poppy. She carefully brought her right leg to join her left and slid down the side of Bilbo's pony, landing on her bare feet without a sound.
"So," she began, slowly pacing back and forth with her hands clasped behind her back. "When a man - well, a hobbit, in our circumstances, adores his garden more than anything else, he's given a beautiful gift. Us." She raised her arms in the air in a gesture to herself, though Bilbo remained as bewildered as he had been at the beginning, maybe even more so.
Bilbo's brows furrowed. "And what exactly are you?" He hadn't particularly ventured outside of the Shire, he hadn't ever felt the need. However, Bilbo had plenty of books back home filled to the brim with tales and documents involving other races in their world, so he could only venture a guess as to which species Poppy belonged.
The race of man was out of the question. Men were much taller than Hobbits and Dwarves, and Poppy had to be an inch or so shorter than Bilbo himself. Her skin was fair and he could not see a single mark or blemish, a strange kind of beauty he'd heard only elves possessed. To encourage this thought, her ears were long and pointed, peaking out through her thick tresses. On the other hand, elves were also known for their height. A half-breed, perhaps? She couldn't have been part Hobbit, her feet were far too small and hairless. It was her hair, though, that stood out to him above all else. It ran down to her thighs in thick waves, its colour reminding him of the lovely little poppies he'd grown back in his garden.
"She's a pixie, Bilbo," explained Gandalf, having brought his horse closer to where she stood. "When a flower is planted and cared for with the utmost love and attention, a pixie is born from it. Or in your case, several."
"Pixies," breathed Bilbo, hardly able to wrap his mind around it. He'd seen a thing or two about pixies in his books, though as far as he'd known they resided in woodland areas where they couldn't be easily found by men. And, assuming he'd remembered it correctly, they should be no larger than his thumb.
"Poppy," the red-haired youngster introduced herself to the others, leaning forward in a bow. "At your service. Well, not really. That's how you lot greet each other, isn't it? That's what I saw you do last night."
"What else did you happen to see last night?" inquired Thorin, his distrust in the newcomer quite evident.
Poppy's eyes rolled skyward momentarily, a rather sheepish grin tugging at her lips. "Well..."
~...~...~
"Poppy!" At the sound of her name, the red-haired pixie cautiously peaked her head outside of the shrub that kept their home safely tucked away from larger eyes. "Poppy!" Her eyes were drawn to the path that led from the front gate to Bilbo's door.
"What on earth are you doing?" demanded Poppy, keeping her voice low. It was quite late, and the majority of the large Hobbiton residents should be happily tucked away inside their holes, but the occasional late walker was common during this time of year.
"You don't understand," hissed her youngest flower-born sister, Lilly. "Our gardener has a guest!"
Poppy huffed. "Is it that neighbour again? Honestly, the gall of that lot."
Lilly frantically shook her head, strands of orange swaying back and forth with the motion. "You aren't going to believe this. Come see!" Her near-translucent wings, which glowed much the same colour as the flower she'd been born from, began to flutter, picking up speed until her feet lifted from the ground.
Now that was a cause of interest.
Poppy emerged from behind the shrub, her wings beginning to twitch in excitement, but came to a halt when she remembered her duties. She and her sisters had developed a schedule during their time together. One would remain at home to ensure they weren't found while the others roamed Hobbiton for a day or night of mischief and fun. Tonight it was her turn to watch their den.
"Poppy!" exclaimed Lilly, quite impatiently. The youngster was already taking a great risk by remaining where she was.
A groan of frustration passed through Poppy's lips. Their home was quiet and safe, a must-have for pixie kind, but over time such things became incredibly boring. Their gardener was quite a lovely little Hobbit, who cared for his flowers and garden meticulously, and he kept to himself more often than not. Nothing of particular interest to the pixies ever arrived at Bag-End.
Until tonight, it seemed.
"For the love of Yavanna," mumbled Poppy, her curiosity winning the battle against her responsibilities. In a second she was up in the air and darting toward her sister, taking Lilly's offered hand.
"This way!"
Poppy allowed Lilly to pull her in whichever direction she needed to, her own state of excitement fanned further by the overwhelming enthusiasm flowing from her sister. Bilbo hadn't received frequent guests since the death of his mother, so she had to wonder who'd made an appearance at this time of the evening.
Soon enough, Poppy landed beside Lilly, their wings slowing to a soft sway. They now stood right beside the window that allowed them to see Bilbo's dining room, partially hidden by the leaves surrounding the outside of it.
"Take a look," urged Lilly, practically buzzing from the thrill of it. "You'll not believe it."
Poppy laughed and kneeled behind one of the leaves, gently pulling the edge down until she could see clearly through the window. "My goodness," she gasped, unable to resist moving closer. "It can't be."
"It is!" squealed Lilly, copying her sister's stance. "A dwarf. In our gardener's kitchen, of all places. I found him during my wander about Hobbiton, I thought he may have been passing through. I never imagined he'd come here."
The pixies would never entertain the thought of entering Bag-End while the gardeners were home, however, when the residents left their little houses for one reason or another, the pixies would sneak in. Never to cause harm, only to entertain themselves, and sometimes to 'borrow' food when it was needed. Bilbo's pantry was always fully stocked, so it was only natural he'd not notice something missing. And during these times, the pixies had long since discovered his rather incredible library, filled with drawings and details of races other than their own, people they'd never have the fortune to meet outside of Hobbiton.
Dwarves were said to be smaller than the race of men and elves, but taller than Hobbits. In their Gardener's books, the dwarves were described as stocky, hairy creatures with a fondness for facial hair and braiding. They were incredibly fond of gold and rare minerals and made homes inside of mountains. So the pixies truly had to wonder why on earth a dwarf was now dining in their gardener's house.
"Our little Hobbit doesn't seem too pleased," noted Lily. It wasn't hard to see the look of utter confusion and displeasure on young Bilbo's face.
The pixies gasped and ducked down behind the leaves when their little Hobbit reached for a plate of bread near the window they stared through, lowering their wings against their backs to avoid being spotted.
"Sisters!" The pixies looked back over their shoulders to find their other sister, Viola, swiftly approaching. "You'll not believe what I've seen," she huffed, her chest moving rapidly.
The doorbell rang loudly, drawing the attention of the pixies. The three flew silently and cautiously toward the sound, safely tucked behind a flower pot.
"Another one?" muttered Poppy, eyeing the man standing near Bilbo's front door. His hair and beard were as white as the clouds in the sky, a clear sign that this dwarf was significantly older than the one currently feasting in Bilbo's kitchen.
"Balin, at your service," greeted the old dwarf once Bilbo opened the door, leaning forward in what the pixies recognised as a bow.
"How strange," remarked Lily.
"I assume this is how the dwarves greet each other," suggested Viola.
"Do you think more will arrive?"
Viola shook her head. "I doubt it, two unwanted guests are enough for our little Hobbit."
The pixies were soon proven wrong. After the old dwarf arrived, more began to appear. First, there were two, one with golden hair and another with brown. At the same time, two of Poppy's sisters returned, Lavender and Sweet-Pea. Like their fellow flower-born, they too were as bewildered by the dwarven guests.
Eventually, the pixies had counted at least twelve dwarven guests in their gardener's home. A group of eight had arrived shortly after the two, though they were joined by the great Wizard, Gandalf. Similarly, more of Poppy's sisters also returned, Peony and Mari-Gold. All except one were present.
For a while, the pixies peered curiously through Bilbo's windows, intrigued by the sight of the dwarves. They moved silently around the outside of the house, bouncing between windows as the dwarves moved around inside, desperate to observe a race unknown to their eyes, or at least strain to hear a word on why they were suddenly rummaging through their gardener's pantry and rooms.
"Quite a rambunctious lot, aren't they?" commented Lavender, brushing her fingers through long strands of lilac.
Thankfully, the dwarves had gathered into one room. The food they'd carried in from Bilbo's pantry was spread out across the table, all forms of meat and potato overlapping one another. Clearly, the gathering was a joyful one. They'd greeted each other with much enthusiasm, sharing laughter and conversation wherever they went. They were loud and lacked proper Hobbit manners, chewing with mouths open, and spilling food and drink regardless of what the gardener would think of it. They belched noisily and proudly, seeming to try and do so louder than the dwarf before. And yet, the pixies remained intrigued.
"Rather agile," gushed Peony, her legs swinging back and forth as she lay down on her stomach.
"They lack respect for our gardener," pointed out Lily. She'd been rather tense since the dwarves began throwing little Bilbo's dining utensils and plates about the house.
"Come now, sister," urged Mari-Gold, hoping to cheer up the youngest flower-born. "Nothing was damaged."
Poppy smiled. "Only our dear Bilbo's mental stability."
"This is hardly amusing, little sister."
The smile slipped from Poppy's face. She slumped forward, her wings gently falling against her back. They'd gotten so wrapped up in the newcomers that her duties had slipped from her mind.
"Daisy!" exclaimed Lily, happily moving forward to embrace their eldest sister. They lightly rubbed the tips of their upturned noses together; A common greeting between pixies who shared an extremely close relationship, familial or otherwise.
"Where have you been?" asked Mari-Gold. She gestured toward the window they'd gathered near. "You've missed so much."
"A stranger was walking around," replied Daisy. "I made him lose his way. Twice." The pixies giggled, though Poppy couldn't join their laughter tonight.
"What happened to him?" inquired Lavender.
As Daisy opened her mouth to reply, two thumps could be heard from Bilbo's front door, interrupting whatever it was she was about to say.
Just as they had throughout the night, the pixies moved around the house to inspect yet another newcomer. And, like before, they found another dwarf.
"Is there a mountain nearby?" wondered Mari-Gold. "This is beginning to get absurd."
Peony sighed. "Back to the window."
The window was where they remained for the rest of the evening. Luckily, their little Hobbit had opened it a mere inch or two, most likely an attempt on his part to rid his home of the smell the dwarves had brought in with them. In doing so, he'd given his pixies the perfect opportunity to listen in on the conversation taking place, along with a comfortable resting place. And so, they listened.
For the rest of the evening, the attention of the pixies was captured by the dwarves. They spoke of a quest to reclaim a mountain from a terrifying dragon. There was mention of a key and a secret door. Thirteen dwarves and a wizard would go head to head with a fire-breathing dragon. The pixies were fascinated of course, but they also believed the quest to be quite an idiotic one.
The pixies as a race were quite cowardly when compared to others. They valued comfort and safety above all else. They were mischievous creatures, who rather enjoyed leading travellers astray and playing tricks on anyone they didn't like. However, their greatest ability was being able to stay hidden. At two inches tall, this was quite an easy task. They had the ability to grow as large as they wished, but why would they? There was security in being as small as they were, no risk of hobbits or humans forcing them to perform tricks or treats whenever they pleased. If doing something meant risking their lives, the pixies would stay far away.
On the other hand, though, pixies were incredibly loyal, especially where their gardener was concerned. Bilbo's mother had been their original gardener, but her son had proven himself worthy. He tended to his garden with care and love and often admired it when he took a moment of relaxation outside. He took great pride in his flowers and shrubs, and in turn, the pixies did what they could to help his garden thrive. The very idea of someone else taking over the garden caused great distress for the pixies.
So, when Gandalf offered their gardener to the dwarves, they were reasonably disgruntled. For whatever reason, the wizard remained undeterred by the dwarves' scepticism and insisted that little Bilbo would be the perfect addition to their quest.
"He won't sign such a thing," assured Daisy, long after the dwarves and gardener had settled down for the night.
"How can you be so sure?" asked Mari-Gold, worryingly toying with the edges of her hair. "Gandalf was right, you know. He is as much a Took as he is a Baggins."
"He hasn't been a Took since he was a child," said Daisy. "Our gardener enjoys the comforts of home too much to take part in such a... silly, quest. Trust me, sister, he won't sign that contract."
~...~...~
"... and yet, here you are," said Poppy, looking up at her little gardener. "Proving us all wrong."
Bilbo pursed his lips. First, the dwarves had doubted him. They hadn't expected him to sign the contract. Now, he'd found out that pixies had been living in his garden, from before he was born by the sounds of things. They'd watched him grow from a free-spirited child to a grown man who enjoyed his armchair and library, and even they'd been certain he wouldn't sign the contract. It seemed Gandalf was the only one who had any faith in him.
"So what brings you here, Miss Poppy?" inquired the elderly dwarf she'd seen first at the door last night. She remembered he'd mentioned his name to little Bilbo the night before, but due to blasted pixie law, she wouldn't be able to remember it if she tried.
"If you intend to join us, I must disappoint you. We have no use for pixies," barked the black-haired dwarf leading the group.
Poppy, unmoved by the dwarf's cold nature, merely smiled. "I can think of better things to do with my time. Your foolish quest doesn't interest me, sir dwarf." The glare she received from him then could've killed.
Bilbo tilted his head. "So you're here to...?"
"To take you home," replied Poppy, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"T-to take me home?" he repeated.
The red-haired pixie gave a rather vigorous nod. "Of course. You're our gardener, dear Bilbo. We pixies aren't too fond of last-moment changes, especially when we haven't had the time to prepare. So you'll be returning home."
"Uh... I see." There was little else for him to say, really. He hadn't quite decided whether or not agreeing to join the dwarf's quest had been a good decision, but turning back when he'd just stepped outside of his comfort space wasn't an idea he liked the thought of. He at least wanted to try.
The dwarves around them were also stumped, it seemed. They whispered amongst each other, and Bilbo couldn't quite hear well enough to know what was being said. He could imagine it wasn't anything positive.
After a moment or two of rather awkward silence, it was broken by Thorin. "The contract's been signed. He's already agreed to join us."
"Oh, sir dwarf," giggled Poppy. "You mistake me for one who cares for the written word of dwarves."
Bilbo winced. The indignation of his dwarven company was audible. His imaginary friend, though not so imaginary as it turned out, was going to get herself killed if she kept speaking.
"You'd insult us so blatantly?" seethed Thorin.
"I did not mean to insult you, sir dwarf," groaned Poppy, her eyes rolling. "I merely insulted the quest you're about to take on. Thirteen dwarves and a wizard against a dragon? Please, you're all going to die out there. If you wish to do so then go ahead, but leave my gardener with me. At least he has sense."
Bilbo jolted when Thorin reached for the sword at his side. He didn't draw his weapon, and the Hobbit assumed it was a simple way of frightening the pixie. When she released another giggle at the sight, Bilbo realised Thorin's tactic had failed.
"So easily riled up, aren't you?" she playfully noted. "Are all dwarves the same?"
"Miss Poppy," spoke Gandalf, much to little Bilbo's relief. "Do you intend to argue with the dwarves for the rest of the day? We are limited where time is concerned."
"I have no such obligation," retorted Poppy. Then, she sighed. "I suppose it can wait. Now, come along Bilbo, we must return before Daisy comes back."
Bilbo could almost feel the scrutiny of his dwarven company. They were waiting for his answer, and most of them probably thought he'd return to Bag-End with Poppy. Their doubts about him weren't exactly a shock, of course. Bilbo adored being at home, alone with his books, armchair, and fireplace. He hadn't considered leaving Hobbiton since he was a small child, and before this morning the very notion of it would churn his stomach. On the other hand, the excitement he'd experienced when rushing through Hobbiton to meet up with the dwarves had been unlike anything else. Maybe it was the Took blood that ran in his veins, urging him to go out and explore the large and dangerous world he lived in. Even now, and much to his surprise, the thought of returning home caused an unbearable itch beneath his skin.
"I can't," he mumbled, more toward himself, only to repeat it when he realised Poppy was waiting for him. "I signed a contract," was his rather pathetic explanation. "I must do this." He didn't particularly fancy explaining his entire conundrum to the company, so he hoped this would suffice.
Strangely enough, Poppy didn't seem angry. "Bilbo," she sighed, somewhat patronisingly. "You've never been outside of the Shire. Please, return to Bag-End."
"I'm sorry, but I choose them," he announced, though this time with more certainty.
Bilbo watched, rather warily, as Poppy lowered her head, her hair falling forward to cover her face. His answer had caused her displeasure, that much he was sure of. He felt a strange fondness for the red-haired pixie, likely due to their time together when he was a child, but he was determined to join the dwarves.
"Bilbo Baggins," she soon said, lifting her head. His name was said lightly, almost happily, though Bilbo could sense something was amiss. "You don't really want to join this quest, do you?" she inquired, slowly approaching his pony. "These dwarves are sturdy and built for dangerous travel. You, my dear gardener, are not. The road will be hard and tiresome, and food will be scarce. You'll have to endure cold nights and exhausting days. It would send even the greatest of travellers mad."
A strange glow began to outline Poppy's figure, quite the same colour as her hair. Any other time Bilbo would've considered it ominous, but now it only seemed to radiate warmth, similar to his fireplace back in Bag-End. He could feel it through his trousers when Poppy gently put her hand on his leg. She was still speaking, Bilbo could see her lips moving, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. It was as though the rest of the world had fallen away, taking the chirps of nearby birds and the mutterings of his dwarven company with it. Similar to dipping his head beneath the water when he had a nice warm bath.
The green of Poppy's eyes now shined beautifully. She stared up at him with great reassurance, a kind smile stretching her lips. For the life of him, Bilbo couldn't pull himself away.
"Poppy!" Gandalf's booming voice tore through the haze, startling Bilbo back to reality.
"What?!" the red-haired Pixie shouted in reply. The lovely glow Bilbo had seen before had now disappeared, taking comfort with it. Now, he was cold.
"Do pixies take pride in using such nasty tricks?" asked the wizard, slowly bringing his horse closer to Poppy.
Bilbo blinked as a hard weight came down on his shoulder. He could vaguely hear one of the dwarves asking if he was alright, but he felt as though his ears were filled with water.
"Do wizards take pride in poking their noses into other people's lives?" snapped Poppy. The gentle woman they'd seen earlier was gone now, and in her place a creature they hadn't seen before.
Gandalf frowned. "Master Baggins has made his decision. You must respect it," he stated firmly.
A hair-raising noise passed through the pixie's lips. It was similar to the hissing sound one would hear from a threatening cat, and in much the same way, Poppy bared her fangs. "He is our gardener," she spat. "You had no right to take him from us. What did you think would happen? That we'd allow him to leave?"
Gandalf averted his eyes and brought his pipe to his lips. It was clear to them then that what Poppy had said had been true. The wizard truly thought he'd be able to get Bilbo away from them without struggle.
"I'm sure one of the neighbours will take care of the garden," said Bilbo, hoping to ease the situation. "There are kind people in Hobbiton, you'll be taken care of."
"And what if they don't?" inquired Poppy, turning her anger to the little Hobbit. "You should know by now that many of your neighbours are hoping to claim Bag-End the moment they see an opportunity. Do you have any idea how many times I've had to drive your infuriating neighbour away from the house?"
Bilbo's brows furrowed. "Which neighbour?"
"Miserable-looking Hobbit, wears a grey hat to feel fancy?"
"Ah," mumbled Bilbo. "Otho."
The name escaped Poppy's mind as soon as it was said. "I don't know what you're saying, but I assume you know the one," she said with a shrug.
"Enough!" shouted Thorin. "You've received your answer, the burglar comes with us. Now leave."
Poppy grinned, and that alone told Bilbo their argument hadn't ended. "No," she told the dwarven leader. "I'll not be leaving without my gardener."
"He made his choice."
"He chose foolishly." Her quick retort irritated Thorin. "I won't go back without him." To prove this point, Poppy approached Bilbo and climbed up onto the pony with a natural ease, settling herself down in front of the Hobbit.
For a moment, all was silent. Bilbo was rather uncomfortable having Poppy with him, but he wasn't so rude that he'd push her from the pony. He'd dropped the reigns long ago, and he didn't particularly like the idea of reaching around Poppy to hold them.
The standoff between the pixie and dwarf was soon brought to an end.
"We continue!"
The ponies began to move, and Bilbo jumped when Myrtle followed the pony in front of her. He hadn't intended on touching Poppy, but horse riding was foreign to him, and he had to hold onto her waist to avoid falling off.
"If you're determined to continue this tantrum, I'll have to insist you ride with me," said Gandalf, his horse trailing next to Bilbo's pony. "I don't trust you not to influence Master Baggins."
"You're right not to trust me, sir wizard," she cheekily replied, though she did not move.
Gandalf grunted. "What do you hope to gain in doing this?"
"I came out here to bring Bilbo back home. That is my goal. I'll be a thorn in that blasted dwarf's side. Eventually, he'll see sense and send Bilbo back to Bag-End," she explained. "I give it a day or two before he's sick of our faces."
"I doubt he'd tire of a face like yours, Miss Poppy."
The pixie looked back over her right shoulder, where the unknown but teasing voice had come from. She recognised the dwarf as one of the many she'd seen in Bilbo's home last night. He'd arrived then with another, one with golden hair.
"Aren't you sweet," she cooed, scrunching her nose in a playful manner. "And what is your name?"
"I'll have to advise you against this, Kili," warned Gandalf, staring at the path ahead rather than the dwarf behind. "Any traveller will tell you that giving your name to a pixie is a very unwise decision."
Poppy's lips formed a pout. "You're no fun, sir wizard."
"What happens if I give her my name?" asked the dwarf.
"She can hold a great power over you. You'd be forced to do anything she wished of you. As long as your given name is passed through her lips, there isn't anything you wouldn't do if she asked."
Poppy peered back at the dark-haired dwarf, rather pleased at the troubled expression he now held. "More than a pretty face now, aren't I?" she joked, though the underlying threat was evident to all within earshot.
"You underestimate the stubbornness of dwarves, Miss Poppy." This time, the voice came from her left.
"And you underestimate the patience of a pixie, sir dwarf," she replied, realising he was the one who'd arrived with the darker-haired.
"Hmm," the dwarf murmured in return, meeting the pixie's gaze. "We'll see."
Author's Note
Hello readers!
The idea for this story has been in my head for weeks! I just had an idea of 'What if there was someone who didn't want this going down but for silly reasons?', and this is what came of it. But I hope you like it!
I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. It's not very long, but I just wanted to get the character introduction done before starting things up.
Please leave a Review to let me know your thoughts. Thanks!