Billa barely manages to smother the need to race into the dour dwarf's arms as he meets her gaze across the field. She may have many treasured memories of him, but he has none of her–and even if he did, they certainly wouldn't be of Billa Baggins.
Although flinging herself at him would probably baffle everyone else, her Tookish side smirks. An opportunity to wind up Dwalin, well, that is a rare beast.
She settles instead for a wide smile and a cheeky wiggle of her fingers. Dwalin's eyes widen and she can see a flush creeping up his ears. He abruptly looks away and she giggles.
An uncomfortable cough from her right draws her attention to Bimor. He raises an eyebrow and she grins.
'What?' She shrugs, 'Can't a lass tease a sour looking dwarf from across a field?'
'That is no normal dwarf,' Bimor says.
She glances back at Dwalin, who is now deep in conversation with those beside him, 'He looks like a normal dwarf to me. What's wrong with him?'
Bromor chokes on his own spit as Bimor sighs, 'That is Dwalin, son of Fundin.'
Billa springs to her feet and forces an excitable expression on her face. It isn't really that difficult, the thought of an excuse to irritate the Eru out of Dwalin fizzes through her veins like sparklers under the Party Tree.
'That's Dwalin?' She whisper-hisses, bouncing on her toes. Bromor shoots her a concerned look, while Bimor nods slowly, 'Aye.'
'The warrior dwarf Dwalin? With the big axes and all the whoosh whoosh,' she mimics throwing big weapons around.
Bimor stares at her in disbelief, 'Ye've heard of Dwalin, lass?'
'Heard of–' she chokes briefly on her own excitement, 'Heard of Dwalin? Dwalin of the Blue Mountains, wielder of the axes Grasper and Keeper?'
Bromor shoots Maisy a look, but she shrugs, her full attention glued to the increasingly flustered Noid.
'Of course, I've heard of Dwalin!' She cries. Billa shoots a starry-eyed expression towards the massive dwarf; he must feel the weight of her gaze, because he turns to glance at them across the field. His face flushes as he realises it is Billa's gaze that is upon him and he abruptly turns away. 'Do you think he'll let me touch his axes?'
'No!' The three dwarves around her cry. Billa squashes down a quick laugh and wriggles excitedly.
'I'm going to talk to him!'
'Mistress Baggins, wait–'
Billa sidles out of reach and through the crowd before Bimor can stop her. It only takes a few seconds to pop up beside the massive dwarf, and she mentally rubs her hands together in glee. It is payback time.
'Hullo!'
The dwarf startles, jumping back from her abrupt appearance. His gaze lands on her excitable face and he instantly flushes, 'Uh hullo, lass.'
'Are you Dwalin?'
'Aye, at yer service.'
She grasps his large hand before he can move away and shakes it vigorously, 'Great Yavanna, it's an honour, an absolute honour I say, to meet you.'
As the sole victim of her incessant chatter, Dwalin flounders.
'Are these your axes? Can I touch them? Am I allowed to touch them? How heavy are they? How many heads have you lobbed off with them? 10, 20, no it has to be at least 100.'
'Dwalin!' Bimor chirps, amusement colouring his voice as he approaches them. Dwalin quickly removes his hand from hers and turns to the other dwarf.
'Bimor,' he greets with a stoic nod. They grasp forearms briefly and Billa notices the twitch of a smile on Dwalin's face. 'Glad to see ye in one piece. Heard ye'd been abducted by some wily Halfling lass.'
'Excuse you!' Billa gasps with an affronted look. 'I think you'll find I am a very respectable Hobbit lass, good sir, and only very rarely wily.'
Bimor exhales, 'Dwalin, this is Mistress Billa Baggins of The Shire.'
'The wily Halfling lass,' Noid adds as he appears over Bimor's shoulder. 'Oft, Maisy!'
The Hobbit, still attached to Noid's arm, sniffs, 'Manners, Noid.' The dwarf grumbles in response, massaging the spot where Maisy's sharp elbow attacked.
'Mistress Baggins will be housing most of the caravan,' Bimor continues, ignoring the young'uns behind him. By the Maker, how he managed to surround himself with such children is beyond him.
'I see,' Dwalin uncomfortably eyes the excitable Hobbit who's still staring up at him with big doe eyes, and then bows sharply. 'Dwalin, son of Fundin, at yer service.'
Billa curtsies, 'Billa Baggins, at yours.'
'I wasnae expecting ye with the caravan, Dwalin,' Bromor says as he finally joins them, Billa's tiny wooden sword tucked securely under one arm. Billa plucks it from his grasp and shoves it primly into the scabbard at her back.
'I wasn't going tae come but we were held up in Bree and my companion heard about the caravan heading to The Shire-'
'Dwalin, Dwalin! You have to see this! All this food, bramble tarts, meat pies, apple crumble for days!'
Noid grasps Maisy with thick arms and pulls the lass closer to him, his eyes narrowed suspiciously at the new dwarf approaching the group. Dwalin sighs, and turns to face the lad, who's bouncing around on his toes, a wide smile stretched across his face.
Billa stiffens, her heart dropping down to the pit of her stomach. Kíli is standing beside Dwalin, his face flushed, eyes bright and body thrumming with anticipation, alive. A sharp pain shoots through her chest as she remembers when she last saw his pale, bloodless face; it has been a few years now since elderly Billa died, but there are some memories that remain as clear as the day she saw them in her previous life.
She releases a shaky exhale.
'Are ye alright lass?' Bimor whispers as Kíli continues to rattle off all the food he's seen to an exasperated Dwalin.
She nods vigorously, pushing those memories down as far as they can go, 'It's nothing, just indigestion–wait, is that a bow!'
Kíli stiffens, and Dwalin turns narrowed eyes on her. Bimor mutters in khuzdul, rolling his eyes heavenward, 'No.'
'Yes it is!' She bounds towards Kíli, 'Are you an archer, Master Dwarf?'
The dwarf blinks at her, 'Uh.'
'I've never met an archer dwarf before,' she says, peering over his shoulder at the weapon. It is a simpler looking bow than the one he carried in another life, lighter looking and less worn. It intrigues her. The young dwarf's shoulders start to edge towards his ears under her scrutiny and Dwalin grows even more stony. By the dwarves' Maker, these two are an awkward pair. 'You must be incredibly talented.'
Dwalin chokes. Kíli blinks once, twice, and then a slow smile blossoms across his face and he preens under her gaze.
'I am,' he says proudly, 'The best you'll ever meet.'
'Then you could teach me!'
Kíli splutters, 'Teach you?'
'Yes.'
'No.'
Billa scowls at Bimor, 'Why not!'
'Yer not exactly the most graceful of Hobbits, lass,' the older dwarf states. 'We only just taught ye how to fall properly and that was an endeavour in itself.'
Billa blushes, thinking of the difficulty in relearning that particular skill. It isn't her fault that all her limbs were in the wrong place; she forgets sometimes she's not the wizened Hobbit she once was. She surges on, 'Surely that means archery is the best skill for me to learn? It's all in how you aim, right?'
'I'm no chancing it,' Bimor says. 'Besides, Bromor only just got that foul cousin of yers tae stop chewing his ear aff about ye destroying her precious garden with yer throwing knives.'
'That was absolutely on purpose,' Billa says primly. 'She made some rude comments about Magnus, which is the height of unrespectability, and I won't stand for it.'
Noid raises his hand slightly, 'I may have also helped.'
Bromor quickly forces Noid's hand back down.
'Archery is a more refined skill than throwing knives,' Kíli retorts.
Billa gives him a blank look, and tries to contain her inner joyful shimmy when irritation flashes across his face. She would almost feel bad for annoying the young dwarf, if it were not for the nights he and Fíli spent spooking her with tales of orcs, the pranks they played at her expense and the endless Master Boggins this, Master Boggins that. Not that this Kíli knew that, poor sod.
If she has her way this Kíli would never know that.
'Here,' the dwarf removes his bow from his back and marches off to what the Hobbits of the Shire are now referring to as the Fighting Field, 'I'll show you.'
A satisfied wriggle escapes Billa before she scarpers after him.
'Wait for us!' Maisy cries as she drags an unamused Noid behind her. Bimor shares an exasperated look with his cousin, who just shrugs as if to say how are you not used to this by now?
'Should I be worried?' Dwalin asks.
About Billa? Naw,' Bimor snorts. 'For the young Kíli, I've no doubt. Had tae talk young Korrin out of trying to woo her just yesterday.'
The larger dwarf raises an eyebrow, switching to their native khuzdul, 'Is she dangerous?'
Bimor and Bromor exchange a look and burst into laughter.
'Oh ye have no idea, Dwalin. Ye think Kíli and Fíli are bad, wait until ye see Billa and Fortinbras together. It wouldnae surprise me if the throwing knives were his idea,' Bimor chortles, switching away from khuzdul. 'Come, we have much tae catch up on.'
'She's done a number on ye,' Dwalin mutters.
'She is a gift,' Bimor states firmly. 'And I'm no sure her people realise just how much.'
#
It is a bright, nippy morning that finds Billa sitting outside Bag End as her friends prepare to set off back home to the Blue Mountains.
Bimor checks the pack on his pony one last time, before he turns to the quiet Billa. Behind him Bromor checks the last of their supplies, which included at least more than half her second pantry, crates upon crates of pickled food and enough clothes for an entire army.
'Now Billa,' Bimor says as he leans against her fence. 'Remind me of the rules again.'
'Do not accept gifts from anyone, especially handcrafted ones. Please limit how much I irritate Dwalin to no more than once a day, unless I'm with Kíli or Noid, in which case no more than twice. And I'm to never, ever, under any circumstances, allow anyone to braid my hair,' she rattles off dourly.
Bimor nods, 'And don't ye be sharing food with anyone until we're back, ye hear?'
Billa splutters, her face flushing up to the tips of her pointed ears. She scowls at the mirthful dwarf, 'I have no plans to do so!'
'Good,' Bimor says. 'Yer one of us now, and that comes with certain requirements.'
The dwarf hops up onto his horse in smooth movement, leaving Billa gaping at him.
'What do you mean requirements!?'
'We'll be back in a few months' time,' Bimor ignores her, nudging his pony into a slow trot. 'Until our paths cross again, Billa Baggins.'
'May your forge burn bright!' Bromor adds as he falls in line behind his kin.
'Safe travels!' She shouts after them as they set off down Bagshot Row. She watches until they disappear from sight, swallowed by the rolling green hills.
A large hand squeezes her shoulder, and she looks up to find a sleepy Noid looking down at her, 'They'll be alright.'
Billa nods, 'Of course they will.'
They remain in silence, allowing the quiet morning to wash over them. The sun creeps higher overhead, and the distant hum of the Hobbits starting to wake for their day sweeps over the rolling hills towards them. In a few hours the market will open, dwarves and curious Hobbits alike will take to the Fighting Fields while others begin their day of crafting. She would need to visit the market later, replenish her stocks before more caravans arrive in The Shire.
Hope warms Billa's chest at the thought of more dwarves arriving in The Shire, swallowing the sorrow that pinches at the departure of her good friends.
'So, shall we have some apple crumble for first breakfast?'
Billa elbows Noid sharply and he staggers back with an oof.
'By the Maker, what did Yavanna put in yer elbows.'
Billa snorts and ushers the muttering dwarf into Bag End, closing the large green door soundly behind her.