Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

Belladonna Baggins lived with not a care in the world. In her cozy hobbit hole under the hill, she kept the tea kettle hot and always had a fascinating book on hand. There she sat in her comfortable armchair reading away, her furry feet propped up after a long day of gardening.

The day had been like countless others; everything remained in the same, constant rhythm. Day turned into night, and into day again.

Most hobbits would be perfectly satisfied, and Bella had had a lot of practice convincing herself she was too. But there was something inside her, restless, yearning for something more - something unexpected.

But that simply would not do, not when she had to look after Bag End and, not to mention, keep her reputable Baggins name. So she sat, gardened, read, and grew acquainted with her comfortable, static life.

Unknowingly, her fate was being determined by a meddlesome old wizard.

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Belladonna woke at first light, sunbeams radiated across her sleepy freckled face. She tousled her curly hair, and got up to start the day. Pattering around the quiet smial, she made herself a cup of tea and spread jam on a piece of fresh bread. She sat, sipping and enjoying her breakfast, looking out at the views outside her window.
She tutted as she realized she would have to go to the market today, since there was a shortage of scones for second breakfast. After donning a white blouse and a skirt speckled with pink and yellow flowers, she headed out the door of her humble abode - a blue-ribboned hat on her head and a market basket in hand.

She walked along the rolling hills of the Shire, taking in the fresh countryside air. It was spring, her favorite time of year, as nature bloomed around her. The hobbit hummed a walking-song as she picked a colorful bouquet of wildflowers. Her basket was soon filled with tiger lilies, forget-me-nots, violets, daisies, and bluebells, blanketing the book she had brought along with her. Wandering further into the more wild parts of the Shire greenery, she took off into a jog - jumping over logs as she hid away deeper in the forest. Belladonna placed her hat and basket aside and curled her arms around the trunk of an old oak. She climbed skillfully onto it's strong limbs, only stopping once she reached a particularly strong branch. She breathed in deeply as she hugged the trunk and looked out onto the blossoming forest and Hobbiton in the distance. Bella had always been remarkably good at climbing trees, and this particular one was her favorite, since Bag End was visible between the green foliage.

Bella wrapped her legs around the branch and rested her back against the tree's sturdy trunk. A breeze rustled the leaves of the mighty tree and blew her curls around, as she daydreamed. Tales of queens, elves, and faraway kingdoms filled her head. She twirled a leaf in her hand as she practiced an Elvish phrase she had picked up in her most recent novel: Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn - a star shines on the hour of our meeting. She found it simply beautiful.

A long while had passed when Bella finally swung down onto the forest floor, collected her things, and found the grassy path once more. She made her way in the direction of the market place, stopping occasionally to chat with her neighbors. After pulling herself away from a particularly long conversation about her garden with her good friend Hamfast Gamgee, she reached the bustling center of town. Hobbits laughed and greeted each other kindly. Smells of fresh produce and pastries wafted in the air, and Bella searched for the products she needed. Her face fell as she heard a familiar tinny voice and caught sight of an abhorred, gaudy hat, towering above everyones' curly heads and coming toward her. Belladonna ducked behind a cart of ribbons, pretending to admire the colorful array as she avoided her insufferable cousin.

"Oh, Mrs. Daisy Boffin!" Lobelia Sackville-Bagginses shrill voice called, "My dear, I have the choicest gossip to tell you!"

The women embraced in front of the cart that Bella stood behind, she practically held her breath trying not to be discovered.

"It's about our Ms. Belladonna Baggins, yes old Mad Baggins is at it again. My dear husband Otho was frightened nearly half to death last Tuesday because she jumped out of a tree right in front of him! I was astonished, really, a woman of her age still unmarried and running around in forests like some wood sprite." The two women snickered loudly. Bella smiled remembering the look on Otho's face.

"I mean, it's really no surprise. She parades around like a respectable Baggins, but she's just too...Tookish. Remember all the shenanigans she pulled when we were younger? And I don't need to remind you about the time that she shoved me like some savage dwarf. I, for one, knew she would never grow out of all that. It's a pity really, if she had any sense she would hand over Bag End to Otho and I - who actually have a family to raise in it."

Bella did actually remember shoving Lobelia. It was many years ago, but it had been in response to nasty words said about her mother and her Took family. Lobelia certainly made sure to leave out that bit when dramatically retelling the story. Once the two women turned up their noses and went off, Bella emerged from behind the cart and continued her shopping. Her cousin's harsh accusations rang in her head, however, she didn't think on it too much as Lobelia often gossiped - to Bella's face most of the time.

Once she filled her basket with groceries, she set off on the grassy paths back toward Bag End. She hiked up rolling hills and next to sparkling creeks. Her eyes squinted under the bright rays of the sun, as she tucked a daisy behind her ear. She loved her quiet walks, her mind could wander and she began to think back to the contents of the Elvish novel she recently had been preoccupied with. The beautiful elf maid falling in love with….

All of a sudden Bella was startled out of her fantasy world by a familiar, unbearable voice.

“Fancy running into you here, Ms. Baggins,” the disturber smiled at her smuggly, and she hid a grimace. Togo Proudfoot, her nosey neighbor, whom she had caught one too many times trampling her flowers. He was pompous, entitled, and Bella could not stand him.

“Good morning, Mr. Proudfoot,” she said politely, “isn’t it a lovely day we are having?”

“What? Oh yes, undoubtedly, “ he paused.

The pair of them stood in an uncomfortable silence.

“Ms. Baggins, now that I have you here, I would like to offer you a proposition. You are an adequately fair and good natured lass, and I, being of good family and stature would prove to be a good match for you. I have some wealth from my pony farm, but with your inheritance we could live quite comfortably.”

He stopped his tangent, and offered her a picked daffodil.

Bella’s heart sank.

She began to realize what he was getting at. Togo Proudfoot was proposing marriage, and he certainly had his eyes on more than just her ‘good nature’. She had always known he was desperate to acquire the rights to Bag End, for the smial was well known and respectable. However, the sudden proposal caught her by surprise.

“Oh Mr. Proudfoot, I…”

“I know, you are lost for words, but let me continue. I know we have had our differences and you have refused me multiple times over the years. However, the way I see it - you’ve run out of options. My dear, you are getting older, and others are beginning to believe you to be a spinster.”

“Mr. Proudfoot, excuse me, but I really can’t….”

“Why do you keep refusing this Belladonna?” he began to get exasperated, “You came of age years ago. You have refused many hobbit lads who would have provided you a comfortable and plentiful life in marriage! If you refuse me now, you are sure to end up alone, Mad Baggins!”

His words cut Bella, but the nickname was not new to her. She attempted to keep her composure.

“Mr. Proudfoot, I thank you for your proposal and concern. I am well aware of the community’s view of me. However, I cannot accept your proposal. I am perfectly comfortable with my life and it is certainly plentiful. Good morning.” And with that she turned away and began walking back up the path toward her smial, leaving Togo Proudfoot in confusion and indignation.

"It's ProudFEET!" He shouted after her.

Arriving back at Bag End, she stopped in front of the freshly painted green door and looked at the daffodil still in her hands. Togo’s words rang in her head. Although she knew his true purpose and was used to his indelicate nature, she nonetheless felt disrespected and hurt.

She tossed the daffodil to the ground and went inside.

Bella’s mind spun with thoughts and her foot tapped rapidly. She contemplated the choices she had made in her life up until this point, especially since her dear parents passing. She never had any interest in marriage. Bag End belonged to her - Togo, Lobelia, nor Otho had any claim over it. She kept good care of it, and if she were to marry it would simply become her husband’s. She had no interest in a whiny Hobbit man to take care of; too soft in the middle, and all of whom drank far too much. And she certainly had no intention of bequeathing the estate to any Sackville-Baggins.

But she began to feel pangs of inexplicable loneliness. Togo was right about one thing, she would surely end up alone at this rate. She simply did not want to give up her independence, but it had come with a cost.

These heavy thoughts began to bring bouts of anxiety, and Bella felt the need to step outside to smoke her pipe. Grabbing her stashed Old Toby, she rushed outdoors to her bench and began to blow perfect smoke rings. She let out a deep breath and felt at ease - troublesome ailments leaving her mind. For a while she sat, eyes closed with a cleared head. A well-crafted smoke butterfly came back and batted its wings in her face. She sputtered and opened her eyes, coughing on the smoke.

There stood a looming grey figure. An old man with a long silver beard, gazing down at her with twinkling eyes. Bella felt unsettled, but politely smiled at the elderly man, assuming he was a vagabond lost on the road.

“Good morning,” she said, returning her attention to her pipe, attempting to be dismissive. At this, the old man raised a bushy eyebrow.
“What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"

Bella’s head spun from the peculiar response, puzzled, she replied, “All of them at once I suppose?” There was a long, horribly awkward pause. The old man continued looking at her quizzically.

“I am quite busy….” Bella broke the silence, “could I help you with anything, sir?”

“That remains to be seen,” the man said mysteriously, “I am looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

Bella’s heart skipped a beat.

An adventure. Something stirred in her that had been stagnant for years. Against her better nature, deep down, she wanted to say yes immediately.

She snapped herself out of it.

“An adventure?” She chuckled dismissively, “I don’t know of anyone west of Bree at all interested in adventures. Nasty and uncomfortable things...”

She began rifling through her mailbox and looking through her letters. He was still standing, looking down at her disappointingly.

He huffed, “To think I should have lived long enough to be dismissed so quickly by Belladonna Took’s daughter, as if I were selling buttons at the door. You have changed, Ms. Belladonna Baggins, and not entirely for the better.”

Bella was quite startled at the mention of both her mother’s and her own name.

“How do you know my name?” she searched his face for some familiarity, “should I know you?”

“My dear, I am Gandalf! And Gandalf means, well, me.”

Old memories started rushing in, and Bella remembered fondly the kind old wizard whom she had met all those summers ago.

“Oh, Gandalf! You’re that wandering wizard with the most excellent fireworks” she beamed, “I had no idea you were still in business.”

“And where else should I be?” Gandalf frowned. Bella lowered her eyes and awkwardly chewed on her pipe.

“I am pleased you remember something of me, even if it is only my fireworks,” Gandalf had a peculiar look in his eyes, “Well, that is decided then. It will be very good for you and most amusing for me.”

Bella began sputtering nonsense, “What? No, Gandalf I said no!”

“I will inform the others.”

“No, no, no! I really must insist. I do not want any adventures! Not today, or…uh... ever! Thank you, and… good morning!” She blabbered in alarm as she rushed up the steps and through her door. Gandalf looked after her, grey eyebrow raised.

Bella slammed her door. She stood still for a moment trying to hear if the coast was clear outside. With her ear pressed against the door, she could have sworn she heard a faint scratching.

What could he be doing? She thought and went to have a look through the window. A large, grey eye was peering back at her. With a gasp, she stumbled back. She quickly made sure her door was locked, and stood with her back against the green wood. Still listening for any sound.

Silence.

She sighed a breath of relief, and slid down the door and onto the floor- her head held in her hands. It had been such an odd day. First Lobelia’s unpleasantness and Togo’s unwarranted proposal and then all that adventure and wizard nonsense. She hoped she wouldn’t have to see either unsavory character again anytime soon. Bella picked herself up and got on with her day, doing chores around the house, spending time in her library, and working in the garden; all the while, thinking back curiously to the adventure Gandalf was referring to. But she shook it off and went back to her work.

She wished for a peaceful, quiet evening - nothing else unexpected or out of the ordinary. But deep down, she knew, something inside her had woken up.

Chapter Text

The day had passed Bella by, and it was soon dusk. She was wearing her father's old patchwork dressing gown, as she often did when she lounged about the house. The frying pan sizzled as she prepared dinner and hummed quietly to herself.

A loud knock sounded from her front door. It was late, and Bella never expected visitors at this hour. Her mind raced thinking who it might be. When she opened the door, Bella’s green eyes widened in wonder. The figures before her were none like she had ever seen.

Dwarves. Two female dwarves at that. Bella was awestruck.

“Frera, at your service,” the blue-eyed dwarf said in a low voice. She removed her dark hood to reveal her golden mane of hair, silver beads sprinkled throughout. She composed herself with a conspicuous air of nobility.

“And I’m Dwyna,” the second dwarf bowed to Bella and gave her a smirk, “daughter of Dwalin, also at your service.” She had stark features and thick braided sideburns. Scars littered her dark complexion.

Bella was taken aback at the unexpected guests and hadn't a clue of how to react. She regained her composure enough to muster a reply.

“Belladonna Baggins, at…uh…yours,” she stuttered as she tied her dressing gown closed, trying to appear presentable to these fierce women, “Can I help you?”

“You can show us to dinner,” winked Dwyna, already pushing into the smial. Frera nodded her head to Bella and entered as well; she noticed Bella’s disarray and gave her a funny look up and down.

“So I take it we’re early then? Or have they arrived and already got into the ale somewhere?” Dwyna laughed. She took off her fur cloak and revealed her bare biceps strapped with leather and covered in runic tattoos. Frera leaned a massive double-edged axe, almost the size of Bella, against the wall.

“Early for what? Who?” Bella exclaimed.

Dwyna and Frera simply looked to each other strangely. Frera opened her mouth to respond when there was another knock on the door. Bella hesitated to answer it; Dwyna raised an eyebrow at her.

This time a massive dwarf, loaded with weapons, loomed over her - she nearly fainted.

“Dwalin, at your service,” He bowed, “Which way is it, lass?”

“I’m.. um.. I’m sorry, what?” exasperated Bella, as the dwarf threw his cloak at her. She tried to wrap her mind around what was happening.

“Supper! He said there’d be food, and lots of it,” he paused once he saw Dwyna standing in the entryway.

“Ah look who it is,” she joked, her dark eyes gleaming, “I was beginning to wonder if this fat lump would show up.”

Dwalin roared laughing. “Now, is that anyway to treat yer father, ya rascal?”

He embraced his daughter with a …. head butt. Bella winced.

“What’s all of this?” Dwalin grunted and motioned to his daughter’s visible tattoos
disapprovingly.

“Look who's talking!” Dwyna retorted pointing at his tattooed head, “Father, you do realize I’m 77 years old? I can make my own decisions...” They began bickering in a harsh sounding language entirely unfamiliar to Bella.

What was going on? Bella felt panicked. The pair of them argued their way into the kitchen, all while Bella trailed after them. She tried interrupting their argument but was ignored.

Frera shook her head at her attempts, “It’s no use Ms. Baggins, once those two start up, they won’t stop for anything - even battle, I’ve seen it.”

“Right,” Frera continued, “we'll have to move this table over there, otherwise we won’t fit everyone.”

“Everyone?!” Confusion and alarm swept through Bella.

Another knock sounded. When Bella opened the door an older dwarf stood with his back to her. He turned and bowed respectfully, “Balin, at your service,”

“Good evening,” she said softly.

“Ah, yes, although I think it might rain later.” And with that, the fourth dwarf entered her home. Frera appeared in the entryway to greet him.

“Balin, old friend, it is good to see you,” Frera embraced the old dwarf.

“My dear, you have grown since last I saw you,” he smiled gently and placed his hand on her shoulder, “You are a spitting image of your father.”

Frera smiled, but her eyes were melancholy as she lowered them. The sound of Dwalin and Dwyna’s arguing stopped as the two joined the reunion in Bella’s doorway.

“Uncle!” Dwyna gave the old dwarf a harsh clap on the back, “I’ve missed you!”

He seemed alarmed and slightly irritated at the sudden outburst.

“I have missed your sprightliness, but not this headache that comes along with it,” he chuckled and pinched her cheek; she laughed brightly.

“Brother, yer shorter and wider since last we saw each other,” Dwalin said gruffly.

“Wider, not shorter,” Balin laughed, “and still sharp enough for the both of us.”

Bella looked back and forth between them, as they stood - holding each other's shoulders. She couldn’t help but wince - again - as they knocked their heads together.

What is it with these people? Bella thought incredulously. Frera and Dwyna began moving around Bella’s furniture, while the other two rummaged through her pantry. Bella felt helpless as she hurried back and forth - protesting to no avail.

Yet another knock resonated through the smial. She groaned, but begrudgingly opened the door. Two younger dwarves stood, a blonde and a brunette.

“Fili,” the blonde said, looking Bella up and down.

“And Kili,” the second added. Both of them bowed and in unison gave her yet another, “At your service.”

“You must be.. um..,” Kili looked at her attire in confusion, “Mr. Boggins?”

“Nope, wrong on both accounts,” Bella raised her voice in frustration, “now please leave,
you cannot come in, you have got the wrong house!”

Kili held the door open and exclaimed, “What? Has it been cancelled?”

“No one bothered telling us”

“What? No, nothing is cancelled, but….”

“Well that's a relief” Kili gave a huge smile, and yet again, the door was pushed open.

Bella was getting tired of the pattern.

Fili handed his weapons to Bella smuggly, “Careful with these, I’ve just had ‘em sharpened.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“This is a nice place,” Kili admired. He began scraping his boot on, much to Bella’s horror, her mother’s glory box.

“Could you please not do that!” she exclaimed, shooing him away. Frera popped into the entryway with a wide smile.

“Cousin!” Kili pulled Frera into a huge bear hug. Fili came from behind and lifted them up, spinning around - much to Frera’s protest.

“You rascals! Put me down!” Frera laughed. Fili caught sight of Dwyna and his face flushed bright red. He dropped Kili and Frera and blundered, “Dwyna…I.. um.. hi.”

She laughed and punched his arm, “Hiya Fili, it's good to see you haven’t changed.”

He held his arm and looked at her in awe. Kili and Frera laughed at the love-stricken dwarf. The four of them chattered loudly as they continued moving Bella’s furniture to the dining room. She followed them frantically, her objections tuned out by their commotion.

There was another knock. That did it. Bella stormed toward the door, throwing Fili’s weapons aside.

“No, no, no! There is nobody home! Go and bother somebody else! If this is some clotheads idea of a joke - it is in very poor taste!” She threw the door open, and eight dwarves fell at her feet. Looming over them was a familiar grey figure.

“Gandalf,” Bella sighed in dismay.

Chaos ensued in Bag End. Weapons littered the entryway and mud trailed through the carpets. Her pantry was being emptied; she tried intercepting cured meats, ale, and tomatoes on their way to the dining room.

“Put that back!” she exclaimed as she wrestled a bottle of expensive wine from one of the dwarves’ grasps. A chubby, orange-haired dwarf passed her with three blocks of cheese in tow.

“Don’t you think you at least need a cheese knife?” Bella exasperated.

“He eats it by the block!” chuckled another dwarf with a floppy hat on his head. He gave her a big wink. “I’m Bofur, by the way. You seem a little on edge lass, ya need a drink or anythin’?”

Bella gave him an irritated look, but her attention was drawn away by another dwarf getting away with her precious scones.

She pushed up the sleeves of her green dress, and looked in disbelief at the scene in front of her. The dwarves had reconfigured her furniture and gathered in the makeshift dining hall. Fili walked across the table, ales in hand, while Dwyna was pelting bits of food at him; Kili laughed with an unsightly mouth full of food. Bofur tossed an egg to the other end of the table, where the chubby dwarf caught it in his mouth, the table erupted in applause. Dwalin was pouring ale down an older dwarf’s ear trumpet. Food began flying through the dining hall, and the dwarves were shouting, drinking, and….belching. In disgust, Bella left to check the pantry and, much to her dismay, it was completely empty.

Where was that blasted wizard. She found him in a hallway holding a tiny wine glass, he seemed quite amused.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself,” she cried, “look at the state of my house!”

“They are having quite the merry gathering,” Gandalf chuckled, “come now Ms. Baggins, I did not take you for someone so quick to turn away a party such as this.”

“Gandalf, I do not know these dwarves! I like visitors as much as the next hobbit, but I would like to know them before they come visiting,” she huffed and tangled a hand in her curly hair. Just then, a timid looking dwarf approached Bella and Gandalf.

“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?”

Bella opened her mouth to reply, but just then, Fili came up behind them.

“Here, Ori, give it to me,” he said as he took the plate and tossed it.

“Careful with that! It’s over a hundred years old!” Bella gasped, but Kili caught the plate before it hit the ground. She sighed in relief, but her ears twinged at the sound of her silverware being scraped together nearby. “And, could you please not do that. You’ll blunt them!” she cried in Bofur’s direction.

“Oooh, ya hear that? She says we’ll blunt the knives!” He joked. They began clanking out a melody with her cutlery as dishes flew through the air. Kili caught another plate as he sang:

Blunt the knives, bend the forks

Standing on the table, Dwyna chimed in as she took a swig of her ale:

Smash the bottles and burn the corks

Frera shook her head, smiling at her friend’s antics as she sat quietly with Balin. The rest of the dwarves caught onto the merry song, and the brothers continued to toss her dishes around as Bella ran frantically back and forth.

Chip the glasses and crack the plates
That’s what Bella Baggins hates!

Bella was reminded of parties with her family on her Took side and their many drinking songs, but she was in too much of a disordered state to dwell on that. Forks, plates, and mugs flew above her head as their cheerful song ensued. She rushed to see what the damages were, but was surprised to see all the dishes stacked in a neat pile. The dwarves laughed and pointed at her dumbfounded expression - she looked up and smiled at them in relief.

There was a firm knock on the door. The company quieted.

“He is here,” Gandalf said in a low voice. They proceeded to the green door, and the wizard stooped low to open it. Bella was taken aback at the dwarf standing in her doorway. He was taller than the rest, black hair framed his strong features. He looked at her with steely blue eyes.

Bella’s heart lurched. He walked off the pages of one of her stories - a dark and mysterious hero. She felt herself in the presence of someone of great importance.

“Gandalf,” his low voice rumbled, “I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way - twice - I wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.”

Bella snapped herself out of her daze, “Mark? There’s no mark on that door, I painted it a week ago!”

“There is a mark, Ms. Baggins, I put it there myself. Now, I’d like to introduce you to the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.” Gandalf gestured to the majestic dwarf.

Thorin’s gaze drifted to her, he looked at her inquisitively and raised an eyebrow.

“So, this is the hobbit?” he seemed amused as he circled her. She tensed up under the scrutiny. “Axe or sword, Ms. Baggins, what’s your weapon of choice?”

“Well, I have some skill in conkers,” she teased, “if you must know. But I fail to see how that's relevant.”

Thorin gave her a look up and down, and scoffed, “I thought as much, she looks more like a housewife than a burglar.”

He turned his back on her.

Bella had never felt so small. His harsh words stung her, and her throat felt scratchy as she held back her emotion. His insult pushed her to her breaking point.

“Master Oakenshield, I will not permit you to disrespect me in that way in my own home,” Bella’s voice increased in volume as she confronted him - he still had his back to her, “Your company arrived uninvited, and I have been pushed around and ignored all night. I am a very amiable hobbit, but you crossed the line by ridiculing me in front of your companions in MY home.”

Bella was shaking with anger. The doorway was silent; the dwarves looked to each other in disbelief; Gandalf seemed very amused. It was quite the sight to see the small hobbit standing her ground as the great Thorin Oakenshield loomed over her, taken aback.

Gandalf cleared his throat and interrupted the hostile air by inviting the dwarves back into the dining room. They all readily agreed, eager to escape Bella and Thorin’s tense showdown.

Once they were alone, they stood scowling at each other. Her green eyes unwavered - meeting the intense glare of his icy blue ones.

“Ms. Baggins, I am sorry for the offense you felt,” Thorin grumbled, “However, you cannot address me in such a manner in front of my company.”

Bella looked up at him in animosity, all of her previous admirations aside.

What a pig-headed apology she thought.

But she simply nodded her head, “I will be sure to keep that in mind, Master Oakenshield.”

He joined the company in the dining hall, but Bella stole away to compose herself privately in the empty pantry. She felt a rush of adrenaline, and was in disbelief at the way she addressed him. She hadn’t spoken up for herself like that in a long time. Bella salvaged whatever food was left into a stew and joined the company at the table. She set the bowl in front of Thorin, who simply nodded his head at her. She stood next to Gandalf, listening in on the serious meeting. The mood in the room changed drastically from the dancing and singing that had taken place there moments ago.

“What news from Ered Luin, Uncle?” Frera said, sitting next to Thorin.

“Ay,” Balin added, “is Dain with us?”

Thorin looked down and shook his head, “They will not come, they say that this quest is ours and ours alone.”

Sounds of dismay and disappointment rumbled through the room.

“You’re going on a quest?” Bella asked. She looked at the scene in front of her in great curiosity. It all seemed like something from out of one of her stories. She received looks of confusion from some of the dwarves - Gandalf saw this and sent her away for more candles. On her way back, she noticed a map being drawn out, similar to some that she had in her study. Her interest peaked as she leaned over Thorin’s shoulder, “The Lonely Mountain” she said softly.

“Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, the foretells say it is time,” the older dwarf with the ear trumpet said, “It was foretold that when the birds flew back to the mountain, the reign of the beast would end.”

“What beast?” Bella asked quietly, all eyes turned to her.

“Ahh yes, Oin is referring to Smaug the terrible, the greatest calamity of our time,” Bofur rambled, “Airborne firebreather, razor teeth, fond of precious metals...”

“I know what a dragon is,” Bella retorted.

“The task would be difficult with an army behind us. We number but fifteen, and not of the best or brightest.” Balin remarked gravely.

“We may be few in number, but we’re fighters,” Fili started.

Dwyna slammed her fist on the table, adding, “Down to the last dwarf!”

“And not to mention we have a wizard in our company,” Kili said enthusiastically, “he’s probably killed loads of dragons in his time!”

Bella looked to Gandalf with a raised eyebrow. He sputtered on the smoke from his pipe.

“How many then Gandalf?” Dori asked. “How many dragons have you killed?”

At his silence, the table erupted in an uproar. Bella tried to calm the sudden commotion, but to no avail. Frera rose and shouted something in a language the hobbit did not understand. The dwarves were immediately silent.

“If we have read these signs,” she reasoned, “do you not think others will have read them too?”

Thorin nodded to her as she took her seat, he looked to his company, “Smaug has not been seen in over 60 years. Rumors have begun to spread, eyes now look to the mountain. Do we sit back and let others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor!”

The company cheered and shouted in agreement with their leader’s words.

Balin interjected, “We forget that the gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain.”

“That, Balin, is not entirely true,” Gandalf said, producing a key. Thorin looked at it incredulously, “How came you by this?”

“It was given to me by your father, for safekeeping, but it belongs to the King under the mountain now.” Gandalf handed the key to him.

King? Bella’s eyes widened. Did I really just mouth off to a King? She shuddered to think what her dear father would have thought.

“The map speaks of a hidden passage to the lower halls,” Gandalf explained, “and the answer lies somewhere concealed on this map. I do not have the skill to read it, but I know others in Middle Earth who can.”

Thorin looked at this wizard suspiciously, but Gandalf continued, “The task I have in mind requires a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage. That is where Ms. Baggins comes in.”

Bella was startled and all eyes of the company fell on her. She stammered, “Wait… excuse me, what?”

“We need a burglar, Ms. Baggins,” Frera looked at her with scrutinizing eyes, “and it seems the wizard has chosen you.”

Bella’s breath hitched in her throat. “I’m not a burglar,” she exclaimed, “I have never stolen anything in my life!”

“Ay,” Dwalin shook his head, “The wild’s no place for gentlefolk who cannot fend for themselves.” Opinions from the company - opposed and in favor of Bella - rose from all sides of the room. Incoherent shouting once more ensued, and Bella’s pleas were drowned out.

“Enough!” Gandalf arose in thunderous glory, his voice bellowed, “If I say Belladonna Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar she is.”

The room was silent, and Bella felt judgemental eyes on her.

“Thorin, you must trust me on this,” the wizard looked to Thorin, and the dwarf nodded his head.

“Very well,” he said begrudgingly, “We’ll do it your way - Give her the contract.”

Balin rose and handed Bella the worn document. “Just the usual,” he said, “out of pocket expenses, method of payment, funeral arrangements.”

Bella was taken aback at that, and gave the dwarf a funny look. She started reading the contract aloud, much to Gandalf’s amusement.

“Laceration...evisceration…” she paused and looked closer in disbelief, “incineration?”

Bofur saw her unease and took the opportunity, “Ay lass, he’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye.”

She bit her lip, holding back the anxiety she felt growing.

“You alright, Ms. Baggins?” Balin asked with concern.

“Yes,” she nodded her head excessively, “.. I.. um...need some air.”

“Think furnace with wings! A flash of light, searing pain, then - poof - you’re nothing more but a pile of ash.” Bofur continued to tease. Bella looked at him with wide eyes. She took a deep breath, attempting to regain her composure. A wave of dizziness hit her, and she shook her head.

“Nope” she said softly, as she lost consciousness and hit the ground, much to the surprise of the dwarves.

“Very helpful Bofur,” Gandalf scolded the dwarf as he bent down and lifted her small figure; he carried her to a chair in her nearby study.

When she finally came to, the wizard sat across from her.

“Did I really faint?” she asked as she rubbed her head. Gandalf nodded as he lit his pipe, and Bella flushed in embarrassment. Bofur popped into the study, and brought her some tea as a peace offering.

“Sorry about that, lass,” he handed her the mug, “that looked like a nasty tumble.”

She simply nodded thanks and clutched the mug in her hands. Bofur laughed and ruffled her hair, much to her displeasure. He left to rejoin the company in the other room, leaving Bella alone with Gandalf.

“I’ll be alright,” she said looking to the wizard, “I just need to sit quietly for a moment.”

“You’ve been sitting quietly for far too long,” Gandalf exclaimed as he rose up, pacing the room. Bella was taken aback by the outburst. He continued accusingly, “since when did your mother’s dishes become so important to you? What happened to that young Took girl I knew all those years ago, who would’ve sprung at the chance of adventure?”

He gestured to her books sprawled out on the table.

“The world is not in your book and maps, Belladonna,” Gandalf continued, pointing out
the open window, “it's out there.”

“I cannot go running off into the blue, Gandalf! I am a Baggins, of Bag End. Not to mention a woman. You heard what Master Oakenshield said, I look like a housewife,” she huffed.

“Oh? As I recall, you certainly gave him an earful for that,” Gandalf replied with a raised eyebrow. Bella bit her lip and looked down, ashamed.

“Dwarves are different in that manner, Ms. Baggins. The same restrictions on women do not exist in their culture, as do in the traditions of the Shire. Take Dwyna and Frera - they are warriors. Frera is next in line, after Thorin, to rule Erebor. No, my dear, that is not the problem.”

Bella shook her head, “I am nothing like them. I am simple and inexperienced and….” she paused, looked out of the window longingly, and continued softly, “...and I do not belong out there.”

He looked at her knowingly, “Yet, you still yearn to go. I see it in your eyes, the same spirit your mother had. Yes, you are a Baggins, but you are also a Took. That side of you came out when you stood up against a rather arrogant dwarvish King. That is the hobbit I remember, young and wild and outspoken. Trailing mud into the house after dark, looking for elves in the woods…”

“I grew up!” Bella interrupted, “I have responsibilities now! I am sorry, Gandalf, but you’ve got the wrong hobbit.” she said standing up, taking leave of the wizard.

She walked soundlessly through the halls, passing Thorin and Balin on her way to her bedroom. Thorin’s gaze followed her and Balin shook his head in disappointment.
“It seems we have lost our burglar.”

With her head in her hands, Bella sat on her bed, her mind completely boggled at the events of the night. It all seemed like something out of a dream. Faint murmurs reached her, causing Bella’s keen ears to perk up. A mystic tune resonated throughout the smial. She followed it, as if in a trance. The sound led her to the parlour where the dwarves were gathered. She hid herself and listened to the dark melody.

Thorin stood, his eyes glazed over as he stared into the fire. His deep voice echoed through the room. Bella felt a chill down her spine.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old

Frera looked to her uncle with reverence as she joined him, her voice low and rich. Her tone was full of grim mystery, far beyond her years.

We must away
Ere break of day
To find our long-forgotten gold

Dwyna gently put her hand on Frera’s shoulder as she harmonized, their voices dancing with the flames. Shadows fell over the dwarves’ faces, the room was full of pain and deep emotion. Their voices rang clear; the somber melody seemed to swirl with the smoke from the fire.

The pines were roaring on the height
The winds were moaning in the night
The fire was red, it flaming spread
The trees like torches blazed with light

The company sat in silence, looking at each other with a sense of understanding. Bella felt as though she was wrong to stumble in on such an intimate moment. She hurriedly returned to her bedroom where she sat in deep contemplation.

She felt drawn to this company, this cause. Something inside her was yearning to sign that contract and journey into the unknown with them. Deep down, she knew it was the path she was destined to take. Thoughts swarmed her mind as she considered the offer at hand.
Was it worth the risk? What would people think of me, running away with a company of dwarves, living up to my ‘Mad Baggins’ nickname?

She thought of her childhood, of her mother’s stories of the vastness of Middle Earth, of her lifelong dream to go on an adventure. She thought of the unrest she knew she felt deep down. A secret desire for something more.

If I stay, she thought, would I ever get the opportunity again to leave? Or will I be stuck in my routine - forever?

She drifted to sleep as her head spun with doubt and uncertainty. Her memory of the dwarves’ song lulled her, as the embers from the fire swirled out her chimney and into the night.

Chapter Text

Frera woke before first light. She quietly rose from the makeshift beds the dwarves configured the night before, and stepped over her sleeping companions. She tried not to wake them, for they looked so peaceful - it was their first night off the road in a long while. The blonde dwarf silently wandered the halls, looking for a place to wash up. It proved to be a maze and, as not to wake anyone especially not the hobbit, she soon gave up. As quietly as she could, she opened the round door and went outside. Frera wandered in the extensive garden, the sun had just begun to rise, and she marvelled at the beauty of the surrounding flora.

Suddenly, a twig snapped behind her. Instinctively, she brandished her concealed knife and spun around. There Thorin stood, seemingly amused at his startled niece.

“You’re up early,” she said, placing her knife back in her boot.

“I can say the same for you,” her uncle smiled, “you should get some more sleep Frera, it might be a long time before we stay somewhere as comfortable as this.”

“I was starting to get restless,” she shrugged, “besides, I like waking before sunrise.”

The pair sat down on a bench overlooking the rolling hills of the Shire. The sun was beginning to show itself over the horizon, drenching the lands in an orange hue.

“It's a beautiful place, nothing like I’ve ever seen” she admired. She thought back to the showdown between her uncle and Belladonna the night before - she had found it quite amusing.

“Ms. Baggins certainly gave you an earful yesterday.” She laughed at the look Thorin gave her. He was not as amused.

“She is certainly spritely I will admit,” he grumbled, “but I fear for her safety were she to join us on this quest - it might be for the best that she stay.”

Smoke from his pipe swirled in the chill morning air. She was content sitting next to him. She looked up to her uncle with such reverence, for he had practically raised her after her father’s death.

Her thoughts began to dwell on her vivid dream that had woken her so suddenly, it had not been the first. Ever since setting out from the Blue Mountains with Dwyna, she had been plagued by disturbing premonitions.

“Uncle, I have been having strange dreams of late - of dragon fire and ruin,” Fear shone in her dark blue eyes, “We are so few in number, how can there be any hope? We have a good life in the Blue Mountains, a life you made for us. We could remain living happily there.”

“My niece,” Thorin looked at her kindly and placed his hand reassuringly on her shoulder. “One day, and that day may be soon, you will understand. This is about reclaiming what is rightfully ours. You were so young, not even a toddler when it happened. But Erebor is your birthright - our birthright - nonetheless. It is our true home. You are a daughter of Durin, Frera. This is something we must do.”

They sat in silence for a long while, comforted in each other's company. She hardly remembered the day it happened, the day the beast took the mountain. The fires of Smaug claimed her mother’s life, her father’s taken by Azog the Defiler not long after. Her heart ached remembering her parents, and as she thought, her hand traveled to the silver locket hanging from her neck. Enclosed was a drawing of each of them - so old that the lines had blurred and become faint - but she did not remember the last time she took it off.

Thorin looked at her knowingly, “For them.”

The sun rose brilliantly above the hills, birds sang, and the two dwarves went back inside to avoid the suspicious stares of the Shirelings. The dwarves were just waking up, rubbing their eyes and yawning sleepily. Thorin urged them to be quiet, as to not disturb their sleeping host in the other room. Gandalf, in the kitchen, had gathered leftover food for their breakfast. He generously handed out scones and fruits to the dwarves.

“So,” Bofur said, talking in between bites of an apple, “are we whisking away Miss Hobbit or what?”

“Yeah,” Kili laughed with a mischievous smile, “Why don't I go and wake her up.”

Frera was all too familiar with the look in his eyes, and cuffed his ear before he played one of his jokes on the poor hobbit.

“Hey! I didn’t even do anything!” he exclaimed, receiving shushes from the other dwarves.

“I know you were about to,” she whispered harshly, her eyes flaring, “Just leave our host be, I think she’s been frightened by us quite enough.”

Thorin approached the wizard, “Will your hobbit come or not? We do not have the time to wait for her.”

Gandalf pondered for a moment, “No, you are right. However, I am confident Ms. Baggins will join us. Leave the contract for her, she will have to catch up.”

Thorin looked unsure and protested, but reluctantly left the contract in Belladonna’s study. The dwarves tidied up and packed quickly, not leaving a trace. They filed out of the smial much quieter than they had entered it.

The Shire was quite a sight to behold in the early hours of the morning. As they walked, the dwarves admired the colorful gardens and dense greenery. The air was fresh and they filled their lungs with it as they made their way through the grassy paths. Sweet smells of honey and flowers reached their noses. Fili strayed off the path and picked a magnolia off a magnificent tree, painted with whites and soft pinks. He made a dramatic show of giving Dwyna the flower, who in turn swatted him with it. The dwarves laughed loudly and carelessly. It was a small glimmer of paradise.

However, Frera was beginning to feel inquisitive eyes on the company. She could see hobbits emerging from their homes curiously in the corners of her eyes. It didn’t help that every so often Bofur tipped his hat to them, whistling loudly, “Good mornin’ halflings!” She instinctively slipped on her dark hood under the scrutiny. They walked on for a while, passing through forests and next to rivers. Once they reached a farmhouse under the canopy of trees, Gandalf stopped them. The wizard knocked on the little red door and a fat hobbit, with a face as red as the door, opened it.

“Good morning, Master Proudfoot, I am Gandalf the Grey and these are my companions. We are here to purchase some ponies for our journey.”

The hobbit looked astounded at the eccentric group in front of him. He stuttered, “Well then… um… good morning….. and um…. at your service of course.”

Dwyna coughed trying to stifle her laugh, she thought he was simply ridiculous.

Gandalf raised an eyebrow, “We will need eighteen, and we will pay you generously.”

Mr. Proudfoot seemed to like the sound of that, and he led the company to the stables.

“These should do the job right,” he rambled, “They’re the very best I have, best in all the Shire I’d say!”

The dwarves began loading their packs on the ponies and saddling up. Gandalf paid the fat hobbit and slipped him an extra coin.

“That’s for your confidence if you please. As well as a request: that if you should see Ms. Belladonna Baggins to send her in our direction.”

The hobbit made a sour face, “Ha! I should’ve known Mad Baggins had something to do with all of this.”

The dwarves and Gandalf were surprised at the sudden outburst and the rude nickname.

“Hey!” Bofur exclaimed, “That’s our sort-of-friend you’re talkin’ about! How ‘bout you have some more respect.”

“Wait ‘till people hear about all this,” Proudfoot continued, laughing, “Mad Baggins running off into the blue with a caravan of dwarves - she’ll certainly be ruined then.”

Thorin rode his pony right up to the hobbit, startling him. He looked down threatening, his axe glinting in the sun’s rays.

“We paid you for your silence, Master Hobbit, and that can be arranged in different ways.”

Togo Proudfoot looked to the axe, to Gandalf with his staff, and to the other angry dwarves and their weapons. The fat little hobbit wiped his brow of sweat, blubbered something unintelligible, and promptly passed out.

“These little people,” Dwalin commented incredulously, “They’ll really faint over anything.”

Gandalf humphed and retrieved the bag of coins from the unconscious halfling in one swooping motion. The company rode away deeper into the forest, heading down the East Road.

“How ridiculous was that?” Kili laughed, “I really can’t believe it!”

“And that bit about ‘Mad Baggins’ whatever that means. She did not seem at all ‘mad’ to me.” Fili added.

“No not at all,” Bofur chimed in, “She seemed quite friendly, and very generous with her ale. Oh that ale! I am sure missin’ it right about now.”

Dwyna and Frera rode at the back. At this, Dwyna looked around stealthily, leaned down and procured a flask from her boot. She took a swig, and offered it to Frera. Frera sniffed it cautiously realizing that her friend had filled it with Belladonna’s ale. She looked to Dwyna incredulously, but took a sip. It was really quite good.

“My head is killing me,” Dwyna complained, rubbing her temples.

“I can imagine,” Frera laughed, “how much did you drink last night?”

Dwyna contemplated for a moment and shrugged, “Definitely not as much as that one time I almost ran away with an Ered Luin merchant, but a little more than usual. Ms. Bagginses ale is divine!”

Frera shook her head, “I think I’d better hold onto this then.” Dwyna made a mad swipe at it and protested, but Frera hid it away. She gave her friend her waterskin instead, “Here, just have some water and slow down a bit next time.”

“Oh, you know I can’t do that,” Dwyna laughed and reluctantly took the water.

As the company rode on, the hobbit was much the topic of conversation, and not just about her alcohol stores. Argument ensued amongst the dwarves over whether she would join them as their burglar.

“Oh come on,” Dwalin was saying, “she fainted at the word dragon, there is no way she’s fit to be a burglar - who has to steal from an actual dragon.”

“I agree, the poor thing’s too soft. And what’s with those ears? Is she part elf or something?” Dori directed his question toward Gandalf.

“No, Master Dori, certainly not. Hobbits are their own people, who simply have pointed ears, and are actually more closely related to Men than Elves.”

“She’s related to a man?" Kili’s mouth wide open in shock, he was much too far back and had misheard their conversation.

“Yes, I believe her father was one, if I’m not mistaken.” Gandalf answered, his grey eyes twinkling with amusement.

The company roared laughing, and Kili blushed in embarrassment. Fili patted his shoulder, but he couldn’t conceal his laughter either.

“I stand by it,” Bofur started the argument back up, “I think she’ll come runnin’ down that hill any minute.” More quietly, he added, “I mean, did you see the way she stood up to Thorin? That’s gotta count for something.”

“Ay, foolishness most likely.” Gloin grunted.

“Alright lads,” Nori started, he quickly added in, “and lasses!” after the glares he received from Frera and Dwyna, “Let’s settle this with a wager.”

The odds were very much against the hobbit. Frera chose not to take part in the betting, but quietly wished that Ms. Baggins would stay - the Shire was a beautiful, peaceful place and she would be subjected to such peril. Ironically, as Frera was deep in thought over this, a small voice echoed in the distance. The company halted the ponies and watched, astonished, as Belladonna Baggins appeared in view.

“Wait!” She was calling, barreling down a hill toward them. The contract fluttered in the wind as she sprinted. The flustered hobbit stopped in front of Balin, and handed him the worn parchment.

“I’ve signed it!” She said breathlessly. Murmurs of bewilderment rumbled amongst the dwarves. Frera looked to Dwyna, eyes wide with surprise, the latter simply shook her head in disbelief. Ms. Bagginses eyes glittered with excitement and smiled a wide, dimpled smile at Balin who welcomed her kindly. Her hair was windblown and wild curls tangled around her face.

“Get her a pony,” Thorin grumbled, he looked down at her in disdain. He did little to hide his displeasure at the hobbit’s arrival.

However, Frera noticed something peculiar in his eyes, she could tell there was something else her uncle was feeling, but she could not make out what.

A high pitched yelp startled Frera out of her thoughts. She looked behind her to see Kili and Fili lifting Belladonna up onto one of the creatures, much to her objections. She sat, wrinkling her nose. Gandalf rode up next to her on his horse, seemingly amused.

“My dear Belladonna, I am very pleased to see you.”

She smiled and raised her eyebrow, “Surprised?”

“Oh no,” he winked, “I never doubted you for a second.”

Bags of coins were being tossed around, and Gandalf caught one.

“What’s all this?” The hobbit wondered out loud.

“Well ya see,” Bofur laughed, “We took a wager on whether you’d show up or not, lass. Dwyna, pay up!” Dwyna cursed loudly as she threw a bag to him.

“Ah yes, most of them bet that you wouldn’t.” Gandalf added, but she didn’t seem to be phased by this. She looked determined, if not a bit nervous, with an air of excitement about her nonetheless.

That is, until she started sneezing incessantly.

“Oh wait, oh no!” Frera heard the hobbit faintly exclaim. She turned her head curiously to hear what she was fussing about.

“Gandalf,” She was saying with grave disappointment, “I’ve forgotten my handkerchief!”

Frera scoffed and heard chuckles from the members of the company within range to hear the hobbit’s dismay. Bofur tore a piece of cloth from his ensemble and waved it in the air.

“Here, use this!” He tossed it to her. Belladonna caught it and paused for a moment, seemingly displeased, but then shrugged and pocketed it, “Thank you, I suppose.”

“Belladonna, you will have to make do without pocket handkerchiefs! As well as a great deal of other things - home is behind you, the world ahead.”

The sun was high in the sky and it beat down on the company as they made their way along the Eastern Road. Hobbit holes were fewer in this part of the country, and Frera felt less scrutinized; however, their surroundings had become less picturesque. Frera caught sight of a tangled, dark looking forest, it’s entrance gaping and lying aways from the path. The trees were taller than anything they had come across in the Shire - there was something unsettling looming in their branches.

“Uncle,” Fili called, “Wouldn’t we save more time cutting through that forest over there?”

The company’s eyes were drawn to it and there were murmurs of agreement; the hobbit’s face went pale as a ghost.

“That’s the Old Forest,” she said gravely, “It is an ancient and cursed place, Master Oakenshield - I strongly advise going around. We will find no shortcut there.”

“I do not believe in halflings’ superstitions,” Thorin and Belladonna locked eyes and she glared at him in indignation.

“Well you should,” Gandalf interjected, “She is right, Thorin, we would do better to stay on the main road. We will be out of the Shire before nightfall.”

The leader paused, contemplating, but then he nodded. They pressed on - Frera was thankful, for she felt a stale, cold air coming from the gnarled entrance.

How could something so dismal looking grow in a place like this? She thought, remembering the vibrant flowers, tall grasses, and green forests they had passed just moments ago. She glanced back at the hobbit who was eyeing the forest apprehensively.

Day was waning as they reached the Eastern border of the Shire and entered into the vast wilderness. The dwarves were occupied with lively conversation and occasional merry songs, while Belladonna stayed close to the wizard and chatted with him quietly, the pair riding slightly behind everyone else. It soon grew too dark to travel any further and the company stopped to make camp for the night.

Frera and Dwyna unpacked and placed their bedrolls next to each other; the blonde dwarf smiled, reminded of their journeys together - just the two of them surviving in the wild. They were truly on the road again now, Frera put herself in that mindset the moment they left the comfort of the Shire. She sat with Dwyna, Fili, and Kili under the cover of a rock ledge - they were talking and laughing loudly. A fire was started, and the dwarves reposed while waiting for Bombur to prepare supper.

Belladonna kept to herself, grooming her pony and distancing from the company. She quietly fed it an apple while petting it lovingly.

“Miss Hobbit, come join us for supper!” Bofur called out to her. He laughed as she walked over and sat rather awkwardly amongst them. She smiled at him timidly and gratefully took a bowl. Bofur conversed and joked with her, and she slowly became more talkative and high-spirited as the night went on. The company gathered around the fire with their dinner. Belladonna sat intently listening to the dwarves telling stories of their daring feats and showing great interest. Dwyna was avidly recounting a story from her travels in the North with Frera. Months before the long-expected meeting at Bag End, they were sent to rally rogue Dwarvish clans in the Grey Mountains to march with them on Erebor. From Dwyna’s retelling, it had not seemed to have gone very well.

“......the bugger lifted his axe while Frera’s back was turned, but I was faster - I threw one of these” she said, brandishing the knife she had been twirling in her fingers, “and got him right between the eyes.”

“That’s quite a theatrical account of the event,” Frera smiled at her friend, but grew somber, “However, it is true, these dwarves were unlike any I have ever come across - wild and uncivilized. They would pledge no allegiance to our cause. We were lucky to escape with our lives.”

“This is disheartening to hear,” Balin sighed.

“There is more,” she continued gravely, shadows fell over her face from the blaze, “There was something unnatural and evil about these lands. Something making the dwarves barbaric. Some nameless, wicked spell.”

Gandalf seemed disturbed by this, “Mistress Dwarf, what do you mean by evil?”

“It was as if a dark power dominated the earth and all that lived upon it.” She looked up at the wizard, his eyes were filled with worry. She lowered her eyes and stared into the fire as other stories and songs continued.

Supper was ended, and some dwarves retired to their bedrolls while others stayed around the warmth of the fire. Belladonna leaned against a rock and was humming softly while braiding her tangled hair. A shrill screech cut through the air. The hobbit jumped in fright and hurried closer toward the fire. Frera reached for the hilt of her axe that rested next to her - her eyes searching the trees for any movement.

“What was that?” Belladonna squeaked fearfully.

“Orcs,” Fili replied bluntly, his eyes not leaving the sword he was sharpening.

Her eyes grew wide and she chewed on her lip as she looked around anxiously.

“Throat cutters,” Kili added ominously, “there’ll be dozens of them out there. They only attack with the cover of night - no screams, just lots of blood.”

The brothers looked at each other and snorted laughing - Belladonna let out her held breath. Frera stood up abruptly, and glared at them. She opened her mouth to let them have it, but stopped herself.

“Fools,” she seethed and she stalked off angrily.

“You think that’s funny?” Thorin appeared suddenly from his post. He brushed past the alarmed Belladonna and loomed over the boys, “You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?”

They turned red and looked down in shame.

“We didn’t mean anything by it uncle,” Kili muttered, his eyes fixed on the ground.

“No, you didn’t,” Thorin said furiously, “You know nothing of the world.”

He turned his back to them and followed his upset niece. Frera had walked to the edge of the rock overhang and was looked out into the night sky.

“Don’t mind him, lass,” Balin said reassuringly to the startled hobbit, “Thorin has more cause to hate orcs than most.”

Balin began telling her of the Battle of Azanulbizar, the accursed Pale Orc Azog, and the countless lives lost. It was a grim tale that Frera was glad to be distanced from. She knew it all too well. Frera glanced at Thorin, who had joined her on the overhang. He stood, staring into the wild terrain that lay below them.

“Uncle?” He was drawn from his daze, and looked at her with deeply saddened eyes. She knew his thoughts were on the story Balin had retold - on who he had lost.

“I see so much of him in you, Frera,” Thorin sighed heavily, “So much of his spirit.”

“I remember him. Faintly, but I can remember his laugh, his eyes, his embrace…” She paused, choked with emotion.

“He would have been proud of who you have grown up to be.”

Frera looked up at him and smiled sadly. Thorin glanced at his company behind them, most of them sleeping and the others gathered and talking quietly at the fire.

“Frera, you have always known that if anything were to happen to me you would take my place. You would have to lead them.” He looked to her expectantly, reminding her of the weight on her shoulders.

“I cannot afford to think like that uncle,” She shook her head and looked away, out into the vast unknown.

“You do not have a choice.” He said seriously, “You are a strong leader Frera and have earned the respect and loyalty from our people.”

“But I am not like you!” Frera blurted out, she met his eyes, “I doubt myself, and this responsibility that has been looming over me since birth.”

“Then you are more similar to me than you think.”

Her eyes widened in surprise at his reply. Thorin was the most confident person she knew. She had looked up to him all her life, and never once doubted his leadership.

“I do not believe we are born great. Greatness is thrust upon us, and we must grow into it. You are young, and you are still learning - as I was when I was your age. This quest is going to test us in many ways, Frera. You must begin to accept who you are - and what you are expected to become.”

They stood in silence. Frera’s mind plagued with the daunting task ahead.

“Get some rest, uncle, I will take the first watch.”

Thorin nodded and retired to the campsite. Frera sat down, her feet hanging off the edge of the rock, she put her hood on against the cool breeze. Her thoughts rested on their conversation as she looked on into the darkness.

After a while, long after everyone had fallen asleep - Frera heard footsteps. She placed her hand on her axe that lay beside her, but she turned around only to see Dwyna.

“Relax, it’s only me,” Her dear friend smiled and dropped down on the rock next to her, “I thought I’d keep you company.”

She took a knife from her belt and began twirling it in her fingers as she often did.

“What’s the matter?” Dwyna said after noticing Frera’s clouded expression.

“Nothing,” Frera shrugged, turning away.

“No, no, come on,” Dwyna elbowed her, “I’ve known you my whole life, Frera, I know when you’re upset.”

She began fidgeting with one of the silver beads in her hair, “It’s just something my uncle said. Reminding me about my purpose in all this, and what should happen if…”

She took off her hood and turned to face Dwyna, who stopped twirling the knife at Frera’s sudden movement.

“I always knew, I have been preparing my whole life, but I never came to terms with the fact that I could very well be entrusted as a Queen at the end of all this. And to be honest with you, it frightens me. When the time comes, I… I do not know if I can lead these people. I do not know if they will follow me the same way they would follow Thorin.”

“Oh, you brooding warrior princess.” Dwyna grinned at her cheekily. Frera laughed and hit her friend’s shoulder, “Don’t call me that!”

Dwyna smiled warmly and continued more seriously, “Our people do believe in you, you just have to have more faith in yourself. You are not Thorin, or Thrain, or Thror, or even Frerin - you are Frera; fearless, strong, and someone I would follow to the very end. You are a natural leader, you always have been. Also, should anybody criticize your leadership, you will always have me to persuade them otherwise.” She gestured to the knives strapped to her sides. Frera chuckled, and Dwyna placed her hand on her friend's shoulder.

“All will be well, trust me.” She said sincerely.

“I trust you.”

The two friends sat comfortable together, looking into the black abyss below them. Dwyna hummed a song, while they watched the stars appear on the dark canvas of night.

Chapter Text

After a restless sleep, Bella awoke to a slimy sensation tickling her forehead. Hesitantly, she picked up the culprit to find a fat, pink worm. She yelped in disgust and flung the wriggling creature which to her horror landed directly on Bifur’s head, or more specifically on the ax protruding from his head. Bella’s eyes widened, and she slowly tiptoed away, looking around to see if anyone had seen her.

Unfortunately, Oin’s old eyes locked with hers as he shook his head disapprovingly. The hobbit laughed nervously and tiptoed back to the sleeping dwarf, kneeling down and hardly breathing as she inched her hand closer and closer to catch the worm which had wriggled its way down to his nose. She plucked it up and gasped in surprise as the dwarf’s eyes flung open.

“Good morning Master Dwarf,” Bella smiled awkwardly, flinging the worm aside. Bifur muttered something in Khuzdul, frowning, as Bella scampered off and busied herself with packing her bedroll.

In the cool, summer morning air, most of the company had woken already, save Bombur, whose brother was checking his pulse to see if he were alive as he slept like a log. Some of the dwarves were gathered at their small fire for breakfast, while others hurriedly rolled up bedrolls and tied them to saddles, preparing for the long day of travel ahead. Bella thought of finding breakfast when she stopped at a sudden, alarming soreness in her backside. It had been a week since she abandoned all reason and ran out her door. Since then, she had made a discovery about herself:

She really hated riding.

Gandalf appeared seemingly out of nowhere and chuckled at the hobbit’s clumsy packing. He bent down and helped her, also slipping her a piece of bread with cheese, winking. She looked up gratefully.

“Thank you.” She smiled sincerely and hastily ate as the ponies were saddled up and mounted.

They were off again. Bella grimaced from her soreness as she sat on the saddle.

She rode at the back next to Gandalf who proved to be very amusing company as he talked of ancient tales and pipeweed. Some days, she found Bofur at her side asking some outlandish questions about hobbits.

She was now long past the borders of the Shire and into the entirely unfamiliar world ahead. Doubt crossed her mind more than once. She was under-packed, had no training, and was constantly hungry.

To her despair, she woefully discovered on the first day of their journey that stopping for each of the seven hobbit meal times was “nonsense, a waste of time, and that the hobbit will just have to suffer,” as Thorin Oakenshield had put it; more accurately, he simply stated, “No”, and she interpreted it as him intentionally seeking to starve her.

She scowled at the back of the raven-haired king’s head as her stomach growled again.

The caravan of ponies trod down and up hills, alongside babbling creeks, and under the cover of giant tangled maple trees, Bella quietly took in the sights of what she had always known as “the Wild”, the places outside of the Shire.

Up ahead, she caught, “....passing Bree”, from Balin and Dori’s murmured conversation and looked to Gandalf in excitement.

“Will we be stopping in Bree, Gandalf?” she asked, thinking of the stories of her mother’s famous adventure to the town of Men.

“Oh, I don’t believe so, not enough time I would imagine,” Gandalf huffed on a pipe.

“And,” Kili interjected, “Dwyna and Frera have a lifetime ban from the Prancing Pony if you can believe it, Miss Baggins.”

“The Prancing…” Bella started.

“That was not my fault!” Dwyna yelled back, as Frera quietly chuckled at the memory, “The chair was of poor make if it could break so easily over that one-eyed man’s head.”

Dwalin’s brow was raised with incredulity as he looked back at his daughter.

“What?” Dwyna retorted, “I didn’t like the way his one eye was looking at us!”

Bella saw Dwalin rub his temple as if he had a headache.

“I do not think the chair was their main concern, my friend.” Frera patted Dwyna on the back.

As dusk approached and Thorin took notice of his wearisome company, they finally stopped to make camp for the night. Bella slid off her saddle and winced at the overall soreness of her body. Next to her, Bombur was hurriedly unpacking his cooking supplies.

“You two go and fetch some firewood, and make haste!” The dwarf said, gesturing to Bella who stood nearby. She looked behind her to see who else Bombur meant and saw Ori, who gave her a shy smile.

“I’d better come too, wouldn’t want the two of ya getting into any trouble - ya know with ya not having any weapons and all.” Bella batted Bofur’s hand away as he ruffled her hair.

“That’s actually not entirely true,” Bella revealed the small kitchen knife she had brought with her. In her packing frenzy, she had thrown it in her pack figuring she’d need some way to defend
herself in the wild. Bofur burst out laughing.

“Ooo lass,” he snorted, “Yer really scaring me. Put that butter knife away before ya hurt someone.”

Bella huffed in indignation at the dwarf’s laughing fit. However, she concealed a smile as she too realized how ridiculous it was.

“I could use that actually - if you don’t mind.” Bombur held out a hand, and Bella reluctantly gave it to him.

So much for that. She thought as she and Ori made their way toward the woods, followed by Bofur who was still relentlessly teasing her. Bella glanced at the dwarf beside her. He was considerably smaller than the rest and in the days she had been with the company, Bella gathered that he was quite shy not hearing a word out of him since Bag End.

As they broke through a barrier of shrubs - Bella’s mouth gaped in awe at the beauty around her. The tangled trees, dark green and wild weeds growing wherever they pleased, the calls of birds which she had never before heard. There were some plants that she could recognize, but many were new to her. Bella fought the urge to run into the wilderness, pick every flower in sight, climb a tree, dance like a sprite in a meadow - and she probably would have if Bofur wasn’t talking her ear off about a drinking song he was working on. She did, however, pick a blue aster and tuck it behind her ear out of habit.

She heard a soft chuckle next to her. She looked to Ori who blushed and looked down to his boots. “Excuse me, I have just never seen someone with an affinity for weeds.”

“No, no it’s quite alright. We hobbits have high regard for nature. I’m also very grateful that I’m walking on my own two feet and not sitting on the back of a stinking pony for once.”

“It is very plain how much you dislike it. I am not particularly fond of them myself, but you grow used to riding with time.”

Bella smiled and noted how articulate Ori seemed as compared to...

“Ayyy, they’re a right pain in the arse - literally!”

As they went along collecting sticks and logs, Bella asked the two dwarves questions about their life in the Blue Mountains.

“Most of this lot are miners, traders, and the like,” Bofur added another stick to his growing pile. “It gets a wee bit borin’ if ya can imagine.”

Ori said very little, but Bofur rambled on about mining and his and Bifur’s special interest in toy-making. He talked of it enthusiastically, but the hobbit felt a pang of sympathy, for not once Bofur did call it his home.

She doubted that he ever had.

With their hands full of firewood, the three returned to the campsite and heard raised voices.

“Confound the stubbornness of dwarves!” Gandalf huffed as he stormed away from Thorin.

“Gandalf?” Bella called after him as he walked off into who knows where, “Where are you going?”

“To seek the company of the only person around here with any sense.”

“And who would that be?”

“Myself, Belladonna Baggins!”

Bella’s mouth gaped in astonishment and Ori simply chuckled.

“Wizards,” he shrugged softly and Bella wondered what the two could have possibly been arguing about.

As Bombur prepared their meal, the company settled into their campsite. Some were setting up their bedrolls, while others led their ponies to be watered and rested for the night. A number of the dwarves had procured sausage links from Bombur’s pack and were sitting around the fire, roasting them on sticks.

Bella narrowed her eyes when she realized why they looked familiar and where they had gotten them from.

“Alright lads, pay attention,” Bofur was saying, “Here’s how ta cook the perfect sausage.”

He then proceeded to stick it directly into the flames and hold it for a couple minutes, gaining incredulous looks from the dwarves seated around him, save Bombur who rolled his eyes as he stirred the stew as if he’s seen it before.

“There we go,” He pulled the sausage out of the fire to reveal it had blackened thoroughly.

“Mahal’s beard that’s burnt. You think that’s a perfectly cooked sausage?” Gloin raised his eyebrow.

“It’s charred. It’s utterly charred. Why...” Nori shook his head at the sheer stupidity. Bofur took a bite assuring everyone it “tasted better this way” to their fervent disagreement and groans. Bella directed her attention to something else occurring at the other side of their makeshift encampment where the younger members of the company were gathered. Dwyna and Kili were facing each other down with exaggerated menacing looks, while Frera and Fili sat on top of a rock overlooking and judging the contest. However, they seemed to be more preoccupied with their own conversation than watching their friends’ dramatic face-off.

Bella wondered out loud, “What’s going on over there?”

Thankful to be interrupted from the pointless sausage argument taking place, Nori directed his attention to the younger dwarves and laughed, “Oh, that’s just their way of having fun - just watch, Kili is in for it I’m afraid. Dwalin has taken special care that his daughter is top-notch at hand-to-hand combat. Fellas, how about a wager?”

Bella looked over to Dwalin, who was speaking to Thorin and only half-watching from afar. He and his daughter shared many similarities and they had the same cross-examining look in their eyes that seemed to determine every possible pressure point and weak spot in a person when they spoke to them. It unnerved Bella, who was thoroughly intimidated by the pair of them.

Kili threw a wild swing at Dwyna, who quickly ducked under his arm to dodge it and gave him a swift kick to his backside, causing him to stumble. She whipped around and blocked some of his punches before she grabbed his arm, spinning him around in one quick motion into a headlock. Bella chuckled at the younger dwarf’s groan of dismay. She began to notice that Dwyna was using Kili’s own strength against him and was impressed at the technique.

“Had enough?” Dwyna smirked as her grip loosened. Just then, Fili jumped from the rock causing her to stumble back in surprise. Kili turned, taking advantage, and swung his leg at hers, knocking her off her feet.

“Now that is unfair!” She laughed loudly as she jumped back up, “Frera! Come off your pedestal and help me with them!”

Frera shook her head, “I am fine where I am, thank you,” as Fili barreled at Dwyna and swung her over his shoulder, spinning her around as she laughed.

Bella couldn’t help but smile at their antics.

“Alright, alright,” Frera slid off the rock and broke up the heap that had become of the three. She pulled Fili and Kili up by the hoods on their tunics. “That is quite enough. As punishment for your cheating, trickery, and lack of any manners whatsoever - you two will take our watch on the ponies tonight.”

Frera concealed a smile as her cousins protested and Dwyna - exclaiming in agreement - gave her friend a harsh clap on the back. Bella winced and seriously questioned the way dwarves seemingly showed affection.

Bombur began pouring the steaming stew into bowls and handing them to the hungry dwarves. Bella volunteered to hold the bowls for him as he poured, mostly so she could enjoy the aroma of the simmering onions, carrots, and rosemary.

Oh, Yavanna, she was hungry, but she could not shake her curiosity about Gandalf and Thorin’s argument. Maybe he too had inquired about hobbit meal times.

“Miss Baggins,” Bombur poured stew into the last two bowls, “Could you take those to the lads?”

She nodded, taking the bowls and heading in the direction of where the ponies were grazing.

Fili and Kili stood, unusually quiet.

Bella approached and handed the stew to them. At their lack of reaction, she raised an eyebrow.

“Hello?” She asked, confused at their state of alarm. They looked at each other and then turned their eyes to her, apparently just realizing she had been standing behind them.

“Oh, Miss Baggins, our apologies we didn’t hear you coming,” Fili said, his thoughts obviously on something else. Kili still stared at the ponies silently. Bella noticed this and frowned.

“Right,” she said, setting down the bowls, “what’s the matter?”

“Well,” Kili started, “we were supposed to be looking after the ponies.”

“Only we’ve encountered a slight problem,” Fili looked at her nervously, “we have eighteen, but we’ve only counted sixteen.”

“Daisy and Bungo are missing,” Kili surveyed the grazing field.

“Oh…” Bella paled, “That’s no good at all….not good, um, should we maybe tell Thorin?”

“No,” Fili said quickly, “best not to bother him.”

“As our official burglar, we hoped you would look into it.” Kili looked at her nervously.

Bella’s eyes widened and met their expectant faces.

“Ummm, right,” She cleared her throat and took note of the massive oaks on their side, freshly uprooted and not by any natural cause. “Well, it appears something very big uprooted these trees. Something very, very big… possibly very dangerous”

Fili crouched behind an uprooted tree and motioned for Kili and herself to do so. A faint, orange glow of a fire in the distance flickered and crass shouting reached Bella’s ears. She strained her eyes to see who, or what was gathered around the fire.

“Trolls!” Kili whispered, taking off into the forest to get a closer look, his brother following suit leaping over the fallen trunk.

“Trolls?” She muttered to herself in disbelief. Bella’s legs felt weak as she grabbed their bowls of stew and stumbled after them.

Her breath hitched as she heard the sickening creak and crash of a tree, not daring to move as thunderous footsteps shook the ground beneath her feet. A monstrous troll clutching Myrtle and Minty trudged toward the light. Bella scurried toward Fili and Kili leaned against another fallen tree.

“We have to do something, it’s got two more!” Bella whispered.

“Yes, you should… you’re so small they won’t ever see you!” Kili said as Bella vehemently shook her head.

“Trolls are slow and stupid, Miss Baggins,” Fili added, pushing her forward, “and we’ll be right behind you. Hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a brown owl if you get caught.”

“Twice like a….” Bella looked down at her hands and frowned at the sudden absence of stew. She turned to see both dwarves disappearing back into the forest with their bowls.

Right.

As she approached their camp, the hobbit was nauseated by the overwhelming, rancid stench. Three monstrous wart-covered trolls huddled over a fire. She pressed her back against a tree as she attempted to steady her racing heart. A strange feeling came over her and a thought came to her mind:

Why not practice a bit of burglaring?

She shook her head.

No, better to go tell Thorin and the others.

She peeked her head around the tree and examined them; huge, ugly, and true to what Fili told her - quite stupid. She shifted her gaze to where the ponies were kept in a pen and felt her stomach turn at the conversation amongst the trolls about eating them.

If I leave to alert the company, it might be too late.

As quietly as she could, she made her way through the underbrush and toward the pen. The captured ponies began shuffling and neighing as Bella emerged from the shrubbery, and she frantically gestured for them to be quiet to no avail. Grasping the knotted rope that enclosed them, she pulled desperately until her fingers were blistered and red. She suddenly felt a pang of regret that she had given Bombur her butter-knife, and looked for any sharp object to cut the tough rope with.

A glint of metal caught her eye. On the nearest troll’s belt, a large knife was strapped. Silently, she made her way toward it - not daring to breathe. The smell got even worse close up, and Bella held her nose as she knelt down behind the troll and reached for the knife.

Bella gasped as a massive hand snatched her up. To her sheer horror - the troll used her as a handkerchief. She was revolted at the feeling of being covered in troll snot, but more petrified as the troll yelped at the sight of her in his hand.

“Look what’s come out of me nose! It’s got arms and legs and everything.” He cried in disgust.

As if it should be the one to be disgusted in this situation.

“What is it?”

Bella’s eyes widened in terror as the other two crowded around her, she struggled against the troll’s grip.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like the way it wriggles!”

The troll threw her to the ground. With a grunt, she looked up to see herself cornered by them; a knife, a stick, and a rather large ladle were pointed at her. She felt her heart beating out of her chest.

Where are those blasted dwarves? She thought as she frantically searched for a path of escape. One of the trolls prodded her with a stick. “What are you then, some oversized squirrel?”

“I’m a burgla….uh….hobbit.” She stuttered.

“A burglahobbit?” The troll scratched its head and looked confused. “I never heard of such a thing.”

“Can we cook it?”

“We can try,” One of them said menacingly.

The three monstrous creatures reached for her as Bella yelped in fear. She spotted an opening between their legs and ran, quickly ducking their attempts at grabbing her. They were quite slow and she had almost made it back to the shelter of the forest before the largest troll knocked her down with his ladle.

“Are there any more burglahobbits in these parts? You won’t make more than a mouthful.” She scrambled back to her feet, and dodged a swing of the other troll’s stick, desperate to get away. She cried out as she suddenly felt excruciating pain on the back of her scalp: the third troll grabbed hold of her hair and yanked her backward.

I knew it had gotten too long. She thought, as she was in the air and restrained once again.

“Now,” the troll said, pointing his knife at her throat, “are there any more of you little fellas hiding where you shouldn’t?”

“No, just me!”

“It’s lying!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Hold its toes over the fire! Make it squeal!”

Bella protested and struggled wildly to free herself from his grasp to no avail. She braced herself for searing pain when she caught sight of Kili, breaking the tree line and slashing the smaller troll’s calf with his sword.

“Drop her!” He yelled as the troll howled in pain. Bella let out a breath of relief as she was drawn away from the fire.

“You what?” The troll holding her squinted in confusion at the dwarf’s sudden entrance.

“I said,” Kili swung his sword threateningly, “Drop her.”

Bella screamed as she was sent flying straight toward Kili. She shut her eyes tight expecting to meet the ground hard, but instead, she barreled right into the dwarf’s outstretched arms. Kili groaned in pain, and Bella opened her eyes, finding herself lying directly on top of him.

“Nice catch,” Bella said once she finally caught her breath. The rest of the company ran into the light of the campsite and gave the trolls a proper fight. Bella looked around and smiled in relief seeing all of them.

“Sorry we’re late,” Kili called her attention back to him. He laughed and added, noticing their suggestive position, “But you seem to be fairly excited to see me.”

Bella blushed profusely and scrambled off of him. He helped her to her feet and inquired after her well-being more seriously before he rushed to join the company. Bella found herself in the middle of a battle and darted from the swings of the trolls’ arms as well as the dwarves' weapons. She hid behind a log, feeling helpless amongst the violence, and watched. It was the first time she saw them in action; Gloin and Dwalin were cutting them down at the knees; Bombur used his ladle against the troll’s larger one; Dwyna’s Warhammer made contact with the largest troll’s jaw; Ori was slinging rocks; Frera brought her axe down on a troll’s foot as Bofur brought a mace to its groin.

Come on Bella! She thought to herself. Stop sitting around and help, you got them into this mess anyways.

Remembering what started it all, she turned toward the direction of the ponies neighing wildly in their pen. Frantically, she searched for the knife she had pursued earlier and noticed that it had been dropped as Nori and Dori slashed and stuck its owner’s legs. Bella got up and dashed toward it, ducking under the legs of the trolls and leaping over the fire spit. Once she had it in her grasp, she ran right into Thorin - more like, her face collided with Thorin’s chest. She stopped to look up at him, only to see that his focus was shifted to something behind her. Thorin grabbed her arm - pulling her away and blocking a swing of a troll’s stick that was aimed at her.

“Get back to camp, Miss Baggins.” He turned and met Bella with fierce eyes, but looked away quickly, returning to the battle. Her attention strayed to him as he expertly slashed oversized arms and legs, his dark hair falling over his face.

She ignored his command and continued her rescue of the ponies.

Finally, at the pen, she sawed at the rope until it fell to the ground and the ponies bolted away. She was unaware of the attention the noise of the galloping and neighing ponies drew to her, and the large troll’s fist closed around her before she could even scream.

“Bella!” Bofur yelled and made toward the troll that held her, but he was held back.

“Lay down your arms,” The troll’s grip tightened and Bella cried out in pain. “Or I’ll crush your little friend.”

“Oh, that would be nice,” Another dense troll thought aloud, “we could make jelly.”

Her body felt as if it were on fire, and it grew excruciating. She made eye contact with Thorin, but couldn't read his emotion. She was filled with worry, not of the dire situation she found herself in, but of the chance that he would not lay down his weapon for her.

She took a shallow, shaky breath as the troll’s grip around her waist loosened. Thorin had dropped his sword to the forest floor. The company was forced into burlap sacks, Bella included; her heart was wrought by fear and her awareness of the angry looks being shot at her. She didn’t blame them, as half the company was tied to a fire spit and the rest were tossed into a pile. As they struggled and cursed at the trolls, Bella wracked her brain trying to remember everything she had read about trolls.

Think, Bella! Think! She chewed her lip until she tasted blood, anxious seeing her friends over a fire and desperate to help them.

“Hurry up, we don’t have all night!” One troll bullied the other who was turning the spit. “I don’t fancy being turned into stone!”

That’s it! Bella’s face lit up. They turn to stone in the sunlight! She figured it could not be much longer until dawn, and wriggled ungracefully to her feet.

“Wait! You’re making a terrible mistake!” She cried dramatically. The trolls turned their attention to her small outburst. “With the seasoning, I mean.”

She ignored the protests from the dwarves and continued her charade. As a young hobbit, Belladonna was known for her crafty tricks and humor, particularly on her unsuspecting Took cousins.

She mustered up the courage. “Haven’t you smelt them? You’re going to need a lot more than just sage before eating this lot.”

“What are you suggesting?” One of the trolls looked at her inquisitively.

“Well, have you considered adding parsley and rosemary?” She racked her brain for any distraction, “Even basil might be good in a soup, but if you’re thinking of a pie you might want to find some thyme.”

The troll looked at her seriously before reaching into a sack behind him and turning back to her.

“And what about cloves?”

“Well…” Bella was shocked she had the trolls’ attention, she began to fumble as she tried to come up with more ways to play for time.

“What does the oversized squirrel know about cooking dwarf?” The troll turning the spit retorted.

“Shut up and let the flurgaburrahobbit talk,” The troll waved his companion off and looked at her expectantly.

Bella gave a wide, Tookish smile. “Well, there is a secret. A big secret to cooking dwarf…”

“Well? What is it?”

“Right, it’s um…”

“Spit it out!”

“Give me a moment, I’m telling you!” Bella exasperated and she muttered to herself, “How ill-mannered!”

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing… I was just saying that the secret is to… to skin them first!”

Ill-mannered indeed.

“Get me a fileting knife,” Her cooking pupil motioned as the dwarves were in an uproar, shouting curses and insults at Bella.

The cautious troll at the spit shook his head, “I never once heard of skinning dwarf, why are we listening to this when we could have eaten the lot of them by now, boots and all!”

“Oi, now that would be quite rubbery…” The troll started arguing.

The third, smaller troll made toward the group of sacked dwarves. “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf!”

The troll snatched up Dwyna who yelled and thrashed violently. Bella’s eyes widened in horror as the beast suspended her right over his gnarled and crooked teeth.

“No!” Bella cried, hopping to face the troll. “Not that one! She’s infected! She’s got….worms in her….tubes.”

The troll cried out in disgust and threw Dwyna back into the pile - a look of horror plastered on her face. Bella noted his reaction and quickly added, “In fact, they all have. They’re riddled with parasites! It’s a nasty business. I really wouldn’t risk it.”

Bella rolled her eyes in annoyance at the loud protests coming from the dwarves.

“Parasites? Did she say we have parasites?”

“I don’t have parasites. YOU have parasites!”

The trolls looked at each other scratching their heads, not quite convinced. She hopped to face the dwarves and gave a pleading look. Thorin, who had been silently brooding up until now, met her eyes with an understanding of what she was trying to do. He nodded and gave a sharp kick to Kili who had been the most outspoken.

He looked back at her and finally understood as well.

“I’ve got worms the size of my arm.”

“Mine are the biggest parasites, they’re HUGE!”

“We’re riddled!”

Bella turned herself around and nodded with great exaggeration. “You see? It’s a really nasty business. I wouldn't risk it - I really wouldn’t!”

The largest troll looked at her skeptically and moved to stand right over her menacingly. Bella gulped.

“What would you have us do then?” He said, jabbing her. “Let you all go?”

Bella paused and shifted in her sack. “Well…” Her voice had risen several octaves.

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to,” The troll growled. “The little ferret is taking us for fools!”

“Ferret?”

“Fools?”

“The dawn will take you all!” A voice boomed from above. Gandalf appeared on the rock face, looking down at the captured dwarves.

“Whose that?”

“No idea,” The troll dismissed.

Gandalf brought his staff down, splitting the stone in two and freeing shining rays of golden sunlight. Bella had never been so happy to see the sun or the wizard. The trolls covered their eyes, crying out as their skin cracked and hardened.

Soon, there were three monstrous statues where the trolls had stood and Bella dropped to her knees in exhaustion. She felt her pent-up terror tighten in her chest.

You’re not in the Shire anymore, Belladonna Baggins.

Chapter Text

Frera choked on rising ash and smoke as the fire underneath her was put out.

Her throat felt raw and heavy, and her face was contorted in a scowl as chaos ensued around her. Dwarves were being released from their sacks and untied from the spit. She could feel rope burn on her wrists and ankles and knew she would never forget the feeling of Bofur’s knee digging into her back.

All she wanted to know was how, in Mahal’s name, the company was captured by the stupidest creatures in all of Middle Earth.

“Now, that is not the face of someone who just survived being roasted by trolls.” Dwyna gave a wide, cheeky grin at her friend's predicament. Frera’s look of annoyance remained unchanged.

“Are you planning on helping me down or…?” Frera let out an exasperated sigh.

“Only if you look like you’re happy to be alive.”

“Nevermind, I would rather you left me here.”

Dwyna started cutting Frera’s ropes. “You know, the hobbit is currently being reprimanded by your uncle, but your sorry cousins are the ones who sat back as she tried to free our ponies.”

The ropes tore and Frera yelped as she fell face-first into the ash of the fire pit, sending Dwyna into a laughing fit. She wiped white ash from her face and narrowed her eyes at her friend who eventually held out her hand to help her up.

“I’m going to go save the hobbit from your uncle, she looks like she’s about to pass out again. Go give your cousins hell.”

Frera watched as Dwyna approached Miss Baggins, clapping her hard on the back and proclaiming herself in the hobbit’s debt for saving her from the mouth of one of the trolls.

She overheard her say while gesturing to her hammers, “If I wasn't in that sack I could have cut them down, a couple of stupid trolls are nothing that Headbasher and Groinsmasher can’t handle!”

The hobbit’s eyebrow raised and she let out a merry laugh at Dwyna’s names. Miss Baggins looked winded but was smiling wide, happy to make a new friend. Frera turned her attention to finding her clotheaded cousins.

“What happened?” Frera angrily grabbed them by the ears, “Why did the hobbit go after the ponies alone?”

“Ow, ow, ow, lighten up Frera,” Kili batted her away, “We’re sorry alright, we will talk to Thorin and make it right.”

Frera crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow suspiciously.

Fili put his hand over his heart, “We promise. We were not thinking and it put us all in danger, Miss Baggins especially.”

Frera nodded to both of them, “Make sure that you do tell uncle, he’s giving the hobbit enough grief already.”

The company was regrouping, the ponies had been soothed, and they began to prepare for another day of travel. Dwyna stuck close to the hobbit who received frowns from some of the company who had not forgotten her “skinning” suggestion. Gandalf and Thorin talked of a troll cave that must be nearby, as they would have needed a place to hide during the day. The dwarves’ perked up at the prospect of a troll hoard and the possibility of hidden riches.

Beneath a canopy of tall oaks, a rotting, fetid air caught their noses. They smelled the cave before they spotted it.

The stench emanating from the cave was nauseating, so much so, that Frera kept her distance. Most of her companions did the same, save a few who plugged their noses and entered in the hope to fill their pockets with “hard-won” treasures. As she sat away from the cave’s gaping maw and checked the contents of her pack, a cool wind came through causing her to shiver.

Frera

Something whispered, and Frera turned her head in alarm in the direction of the sound. Creeping out from the darkness of the cave, like small ripples on water, something was calling out to her from below.

Had she imagined it?

Frera

It was as if the wind itself was calling her name. In a trance, she found herself at the mouth of the cave, barely registering the scent anymore and straining her ears to hear it once more.

Shadows of the dwarves in the cave danced on the walls of rock as she moved past them, searching, ears alert for the source of the sound. White light from the wizard's staff faintly flickered, illuminating brass, gold, and silver littered on the ground. Thorin nodded to her as she passed him assessing looted weapons.

Frera squinted her eyes as she strayed further away from Gandalf’s light and felt around the back wall of the cave. Her fingers brushed over a small groove, and she traced it until it led her to an opening. She lowered herself and peered into the darkness, a heavy uneasiness resting on her shoulders.

Frera

It was as if it was echoing off the very depths of the rock. After turning around and seeing her uncle still preoccupied, she brandished her knife and continued forward, disappearing down into the depths. She had to know where it was coming from.

Entering a small chamber, Frera positioned her knife to reflect the glow of Gandalf’s staff. The air was stale and cold, and as she walked she kicked up coins, chalices, and gems. She listened closely, but the only sound she could hear was soft plinks of water droplets from the land above and her breath. Maybe she had imagined it. She shook her head and turned to rejoin the company. It was then that she caught sight of it. Something silver, glinting even in the darkness, lay atop a pile of stolen treasures. She reached out and felt the cold metal of a hilt. As she pulled it out, coins and gems spilled down like a waterfall, and her breath hitched.

It was a sword, its blade as black as the darkness surrounding her. She examined the intricately braided crimson and silver veins wrapping the hilt. It was magnificent, and as Frera discovered running her finger along the edge of the blade - still sharp.

Frera

With her finger bloodied, she grasped the hilt and held the elegant weapon out in front of her staring, perplexed, into the blackness of the blade. She had found the source, like leaves noiselessly falling in the air, this sword had whispered her name.

“Frera?”

She jumped out of her skin before realizing Gandalf now stood at the entrance of the chamber, the light from his staff finding her standing alone in the dark.

“Frera, what have you found?” He looked at her inquisitively before his eyes shifted to the sword. Gandalf’s eyebrow raised as he propped up his staff and took a closer look at the black weapon with the young dwarf.

“I…” She stammered, “I do not know, I have never seen anything like it. Do you know what it is made of?”

She held out the weapon to Gandalf who studied it carefully, muttering to himself in a language she could not understand. He looked up to her, an incredulous, thoughtful look on his face.

“This is an ancient weapon, Frera, a sword long lost from the First Age. If I am not mistaken, then this is one of the great Black Swords crafted from the iron of a fallen meteorite by Eöl, the Dark Elf. To think it ended up in a place like this.” Gandalf said, shaking his head.

“Meteorite?” With the pale glow of Gandalf's staff, Frera could now see carvings of stars, small and delicate.

“I wish I could tell you more,” He handed her the sword, “it is from an era long ago, a time full of much death and despair of which others in Middle Earth know a great deal more detail about.”

She took back the sword and looked up at the wizard's odd expression.

“If I were you, I would keep that weapon close. Now come, let us rejoin the others in the fresh air. This horrid stench is beginning to make me dizzy.” He said, turning toward the entrance.

“Gandalf,” She stopped him, feeling even more bewildered than before. “The sword, it...it knew my name. It called out to me from the darkness.”

There was a long pause and Frera waited expectantly, staring at his grey-cloaked back.

“Curious,” He said mysteriously, turning his head to catch a last glimpse at the weapon, before continuing his exit from the cave.

Frera followed, strapping the sword to her side, her mind swimming with questions she needed answered. Fresh air filled her lungs as she stepped out into the light.

“Are you alright?” Thorin rested a hand on her shoulder, eyebrows knitted in concern, “You look pale, Frera.”

Frera nodded, her hand tracing the hilt of the sword. “It was a long night, that’s all.”

She decided that now was not the time to tell her uncle about ancient swords and whispers in the dark. He nodded to her in understanding, and they rejoined the company. As they passed, Frera glanced at Gandalf handing Miss Baggins a small Elvish sword from the troll hoard.

Weary and restless from the trouble with trolls, the dwarves mounted their ponies and set off. Hours dragged on and their usual chatter and singing were replaced with frequent yawns. Bofur had set his hat in between his pony’s ears and rested his head upon it, snoring loudly. The sky was cloudless, and as their caravan passed under the canopy of trees, a faint, familiar scent reached her nose. Large bushes speckled with white flowers enveloped the company, filling the air with their sweet scent. Honeysuckle, Frera recognized it. She smiled softly to herself as she remembered the bushes of honeysuckle in the forests of the Blue Mountains. The scent always welcomed her back from long, wearisome ventures. She let her mind be taken away from her troublesome thoughts for a moment, closed her eyes, and breathed in their fragrance.

Her moment of peace was cut short by something approaching fast from the bushes.

“Arm yourselves!” Thorin yelled as the company quickly pulled the reins on their ponies and brandished their weapons. Out from the white-flowered honeysuckle bushes, barreled a sled led by large rabbits and ridden by an eccentric old man dressed in brown. He wore a large brown hat and waved his staff as he shouted, “Thieves, Fire, Murder!”

Frera’s mouth gaped open, in all her years she could not have expected the sight she was seeing. From his hat and staff she assumed he must be another wizard, and Gandalf quickly assured the dwarves the stranger was a friend and that it was safe to lower their weapons.

“Radagast the Brown, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I came to find you Gandalf, something is terribly, terribly wrong,” The man said, barely catching his breath. He paused, seeming to forget what he was about to say.

“Oh,” He continued, “It was right there on the tip of my tongue.”

Gandalf raised an eyebrow as Radagast opened his mouth to reveal an insect climbing out.

“It wasn’t a thought at all, just a silly old stick insect!”

Frera grimaced.

“I came here to tell you Gandalf, the Greenwood is sick. A darkness has fallen over it. The air smells of decay, and nothing good grows there anymore.”

Gandalf looked troubled, “Let us step away to speak in private for a moment.”

Thorin nodded and beckoned the company to make camp. Gandalf met her eyes before joining Radagast, for she had spoken to him in a similar alarm about the darkness of the lands to the North. Her heart quickened as she considered her recounts of the dwarves of the Grey Mountains.

Could they be connected?

Wrapping herself in her black cloak, she lost herself in thought and distanced herself as the company gathered around the fire to rest.

“Frera?” Miss Baggins stood with a steaming bowl in her hand.

Frera drew herself back to her surroundings and looked at the bowl in the hobbit’s outstretched hand. White flowers floated on the surface and she once more breathed in the unmistakable scent.

“It’s honeysuckle tea,” Miss Baggins gave a dimpled smile, “I picked some of those flowers we passed earlier. My peace offering after all of the trouble with the trolls last night.”

Frera clasped the hot bowl in her hands, brought it to her lips, and took a sip. A sense of calm settled over her.

“Thank you, Miss Baggins,” She stared at the white flowers before looking up and nodding gently to the hobbit who once more smiled before rejoining the company at the fire.

Frera felt a twinge of sadness that Belladonna had left the Shire. She thought of the comforting, flowering place and how lovely living there must have been.

Perhaps she did not understand.

Radagast and Gandalf continued their hushed conversation at the fire, and the dwarves settled in their bedrolls. Her body felt exhausted, screaming at her to rest, but her mind was racing and her eyes would not close. After restlessly watching the cloudless night sky for what seemed like ages, Gloin tapped her shoulder signaling her to take the next watch.

Radagast’s warning of a dark power troubled her as she walked aimlessly past the ponies and into the woods. Moonlight flooded through the canopy, drowning the forest in its silver glow.

Right before arriving in the Shire at the beginning of this quest, as Thorin’s heiress, she was tasked with rallying clans of dwarves in the Grey Mountains as he met with entourages of dwarves from the Iron Hills. The Grey Mountains, Ered Mithrin of old, had long been ravaged by dragons. A long history of death by fire and ruin led most of its people to flee, thus establishing the kingdom of Erebor and the Iron Hills. However, a few clans remained, stubborn and refusing to leave.

Frera remembered meeting with her uncle and the company before her venture. They drew out a plan to unite the seven kingdoms of the dwarves and to call upon their oaths to Durin. Thorin was determined to join together with others of their race, he was determined to march with them on Erebor.

But the plan failed, and the dwarves would pledge no allegiance to the cause.

Dwarves, as loyal as they are by nature, are a fragmented people. An owl hooted in the distance, and she thought back to her audience with Anar, the leader of the band of Grey Mountain dwarves.

“Ereborian runts are not welcome here, traitors, filth, cowards.” His black eyes pierced accusatory into her own, and he spit at her feet. Dwyna lurched at him, but Frera quickly stopped her friend.

“You would throw away an alliance with us? You would sacrifice the unity of the seven kingdoms of dwarves, for what purpose?” Frera wanted to urge him to find reason. She could not understand his hate.

“We have no oath to Durin and his heirs, we only serve our maker. We serve Mahal and his apprentices. We have always been loyal to One.”

That’s when a dwarf behind Frera slumped over, Dwyna’s knife buried between his eyes and an ax aimed for her head by his side. In a heartbeat, Frera’s ax was drawn and she defended herself from another blow aimed at her. Dwyna snarled, clubbing attackers with her twin hammers, as the two fought their way toward the exit.

The dwarves did not follow them out of the mountain, and Dwyna grew wary of eyes on them as they barreled down the mountainside. Once they passed the tree line, they stopped, trying to catch their breath and scanning their surroundings. The only movement was the fluttering wings of blackbirds high in the branches of the trees above.

Tears rolled down Frera’s face as she looked down at her blood-covered hands. The blood of dwarves. She fell to her knees and touched her hands to the rock at the base of the mountain chanting a prayer, begging Mahal for forgiveness.

Kanayuthu, she whispered over and over. Dwyna joined her by her side, pressing a palm into the rock and bowing her head. Gusts shook the trees around them, brown leaves of autumn danced in the wind, and blackbirds called to each other. It was a long while before either dwarf could draw herself away.

A cool breeze passed through the trees and Frera was drawn to her present surroundings, a chill running down her spine. She still could not understand Anar’s scorn, and his black eyes seared into her memory.

A twig snapped and all of Frera’s senses heightened at once. She brandished her sword in one flowing motion and searched the moonlit trees for any sign of movement. Slowly, she noiselessly stepped toward the dark shrubbery, hardly breathing.

As she peered into the bush something passed behind her, silently padding large, matted paws. The hair on the back of her neck bristled and she clutched the hilt of her sword tighter.

Frera spun around, meeting the gnarled set of razor-sharp warg teeth. She gasped and its rider let out a piercing shriek. She slashed the beast across the eyes and quickly ducked a blow from the orc. As the warg roared in pain, she countered the swing of a spiked club, flourished her elegant weapon, and skillfully stabbed under its armor. The orc fell to the forest floor, dead. Frera dodged the teeth of the warg before plunging her sword through its skull.

Black blood ran down her arms as she sprinted back to camp, leaping over logs and overgrown roots.

“Warg scouts, warg scouts!” She shouted as the company awoke. “An orc pack is not far behind, we must move now!”

Another scout emerged from the trees barreling toward the dwarves. Kili shot its rider off, while Dwyna swung a hammer to the warg's jaw as it howled wildly. Thorin stabbed the beast bringing it down, and Frera’s blood ran cold as she heard the howls of a pack not far away.

“You are being hunted, Thorin.” Gandalf brandished his sword, while the brown wizard was waking up his rabbits, readying his sled.

Ori shouted, “The ponies have bolted!” as the dwarves took up their arms, preparing for a fight. The hobbit’s eyes were wide with fear as she clutched a glowing blue sword.

“You have no choice but to run,” Radagast mounted his sled, “I’ll draw them off.”

“They will outrun you!” Gandalf said, worried.

“These are Rhosgobel rabbits,” Radagast’s eyes twinkled with determination, “I’d like to see them try.”

With that, the rabbits took off and Frera could hear the howls of the wargs following them. The company watched from behind trees as the rabbits lured them further away. Thorin beckoned them forward and they sprinted into the open landscape toward jagged rocks for cover. The shrieks of orcs were too close for comfort, and Thorin held his hand up for the company to stop and hide. Frera heard Miss Baggins yelp as Thorin quickly pulled her back from running ahead. The hobbit leaned against the rock, clasping her hand to her mouth and breathing heavily.

Once it was clear, the company ran to the next rock, carefully timing their escape as they made their way across the plain. Gandalf was leading them somewhere, but where, Frera could not tell. Moonlight illuminated the plains as they sprinted stealthily avoiding the pack.

An orc rider perched itself on top of the rock they were hiding behind. The warg sniffed the air, no one daring to breathe as its claws scraped the surface. Thorin gestured to Kili’s bow and her younger cousin nodded his head. He fired an arrow at the rider, which just missed its vitals and brought both the orc and warg crashing onto them. The dwarves cut them down, but the noises echoed across the landscape drawing the attention of the pack from the rabbits to them.

Frera looked behind, growing wary of glowing warg eyes drawing nearer and nearer, and took notice of Ori, who was slowly falling behind at the rear. She ran back toward him.

“Keep going, Ori!” She shouted, pushing him forward and slashing a warg that got close. She heard a whizz of one of Kili’s arrows, and its rider crumpled over.

“Where is the wizard?” She heard someone call from up ahead and she whipped her head around searching for his grey hat. The company formed ranks, and Dwyna pulled Miss Baggins into the center.

“This way, you fools!” Gandalf called from behind a rock and the company sprinted toward him, dodging arrows flying from the approaching orcs. Dawn was breaking over the horizon, and oranges and pinks chased the moon away.

Behind the rock was the mouth of a cave, and Thorin stood counting each member as they jumped down into the darkness.

Once the company was safe, accounted for, and largely unharmed save Dori complaining about his back from the fall down into the cave, they heard a blaring Elvish horn outside.

Frera now knew where they must be headed and looked to see her uncle’s displeased face. Dwyna appeared at her side, exchanging a look with her. She could not help but feel secretly excited as they winded through damp tunnels, the sound of roaring waterfalls growing louder.

She took a deep breath of fresh air as the soft light of the early morning poured down onto the valley, and she looked down upon the ethereal beauty of Rivendell.