They never knew where she came from. They just found her, poor thing, abandoned on the side of the road on the way back from a walking holiday. She was a beautiful baby on the edge of being a toddler with dark green eyes, thick, curly brown locks down her back and freckles splashed across her cheek. Her giggles were like bells and eyes like gems when they were open, but they knew immediately that she was not like them. She was bigger than the others her age, she was stronger, and her feet were not large and covered in hair. If that wasn't enough to tip them off that she wasn't a Hobbit, then the fine, dark hairs growing along her chin were: she was a dwarfling, no mistakin' it. And yet the Took couple couldn't leave her there, surely to die beside that road; that was the day that a dwarfling was adopted into the Shire. That was the day that Belladona Took got a surprise little sister, and she was absolutely fascinated and delighted by it.

They tried, at first, to see if she had a name. But they couldn't find one anywhere on the dwarf girl's person. After a little while, they referred to her as "dwarfling" because they simply didn't know what to call her. That was until she looked at them with a bright smile and said, "Mizimel." And that was all she said, all the time, in reply to whatever they asked or said to her.

"Mizimel."

So that's what they began to call her. Mizimel Took. And she never knew better. They would dress her nice, brush her hair, talk affectionately. The first hitch they caught was when they tried to shave off the beard that was beginning to grow on her chin and jaw. She had screamed and wailed as if they were physically harming her. At first, the Tooks just left it alone, until finally they tried again, telling her it was alright and that it was natural for women to not have beards. And she calmed down, listening to her new mama and papa with wide eyes, and every time they shaved her after that, there were no troubles. Belladona had always been a true Took, adventurous and fun loving, and took Mizimel under her wing as a little sister, still keeping in touch even when she married off to who she called Baggins. Mizimel didn't know what a Baggins was, and didn't care for him. At this point, Mizimel was around 23, and still like a child. It confused the Hobbits at how slow she was aging, but took it in stride. But there are things that no one can really prepare for. Death being one of them.

The day that her mama died, it was decided that she could not stay with the old Tooks anymore. And Mizimel, now 27, moved in with Belladona who was just about to have a baby. Mizimel had been in a deep despair at having been moved so abruptly with someone she loved so much dying, leaving her behind like everyone seemed to, but when Belladona gave birth to Bilbo something changed in Mizimel. The depression she'd been stuck in was lifted, and it seemed like her life had purpose again. She helped as much as she could in raising him, even if it wasn't much simply because she was still a young dwarf, and was a dutiful aunt.

She remained so even when sickness took her sister and brother in law, helping Bilbo through the loss as much as possible. He was only 28. Mizimel was 55, and still looked like a tween. Still, they looked after each other, him being the new owner of Bag End and her, his "Aunt Mizzie" who he welcomed to stay, even going so far as to teach her things that the Tooks hadn't like what lay beyond the Shire, and the history of Elves and Men. She was fascinated and absorbed it quickly, and the years passed reasonably by for them. She became a barmaid at the age of 70, when she was starting to look more like a woman and less of a girl, earning her keep at Bag End even if Bilbo, aged 43, insisted she didn't need to. She muttered on about honor and pride to him, and deep down he knew that it was something she'd learned from her Dwarvish side, not the Hobbit people who'd raised her.

Eight years later, Mizimel being 78 and Bilbo 51, is when things began to change, and Mizimel met one of her own kind for the very first time.

Mizimel was humming, her voice clear and as pretty as the bells her laughter was described, as she worked in the garden near the back of the smial, Bilbo smoking calmly on his bench near the front of the house. It was a pleasant morning and they'd just gotten done with second breakfast (though Mizimel didn't eat much at that meal, as her appetite was not as large as a Hobbit's), putting the both of them in a cheerful mood. She was efficient in herbs, especially. She loved the smell of them and being able to work with them soothed her. Mizimel enjoyed being close to the earth. She continued to work on the loamy soil but stopped humming when someone approached. Some Hobbits got upset when they saw her, a dwarf woman who was 4'4" which was well over the tallest Hobbit in the Shire's height, so she'd learned to stick to the shadows and be quiet when a hobbit who was not Bilbo or a Took was nearby. She didn't hear their conversation, just heard the door shut forcefully. When she got up and dusted herself off enough to be presentable, she went to see what had happened but only saw a tall man in a gray cloak, a pointy hat and carrying and a staff walking away. She went back inside Bag End with furrowed brow and frown apparent. Bilbo looked slightly startled and annoyed by something so she carefully asked, "What happened, Bilbo?"

"...nothing. Just wizards, and nasty, foolish business."

"Oh?"

"Yes, asking to share in an adventure. An adventure! Can you imagine?"

But the thought of it stirred something in her and she smiled wryly at him.

"You sent him away? A wizard? Oh Bilbo, you silly little Baggins." She laughed and ruffled his hair, smiling as he scowled and swatted her hand away. They were similar in mind, except that Mizimel, according to a book Bilbo had recently acquired in Bree at her insistence, wasn't even an adult yet, just a young adult. She had much life ahead of her.

"What would you like for dinner, hm?" She laughed at Bilbo's question.

"Bilbo! We just had a meal, and you're already thinking of the next meal?"

"Oh hush, Mizimel! You know how Hobbits work by now, stop being ridiculous."

She shook her head, her brown locks waving at the movement. She loved Bilbo, truly. She'd rarely been without him.

"I'm afraid you'll have to eat alone tonight. I have to work. Apparently one of the other barmaids is away on honeymoon."

"Oh dear, which one?"

"Never you mind, Bilbo. You're entirely too interested in the gossip. Like a true Hobbit, I say." Bilbo sniffed in offense, looking at her with a new eye.

"I never!" She smiled and kissed the top of his curly head. He was so small, compared to her. She still remembered holding him when he was first born, with his pinched, red face and curly hair already growing on his head. Such an ugly little thing, but he'd captured her heart in moments. Mizimel left to her room, getting on her basic work smock, and tying her hair into various braids and ribbons before nodding. She was ready for work. She went to the door, then

"Mizimel, are you off to work, now?"

"Yes, Bilbo." He came around from the kitchen, a spatula in hand from whatever he was cooking. It smelled like fish. Bilbo waved his spatula at her, a serious gleam in his eye.

"Be careful on your way home! Don't know what sort of people might be wandering about tonight."

He was a lovely person, but a ridiculous one. Who else would be wandering out at night, other than hobbits who she had known all her life? Mizimel smiled and nodded as she stood up.

"Yes Bilbo," she waved goodbye to him, "don't you worry." She threw on her cloak and hurried down the road, smiling pleasantly. It was a nice day, overall. An easy day, like all the rest in the Shire.

Mizimel was tired. Her feet were sore, as always after her shifts, and her arms felt tired from hoisting heavy platters around and moving heavy things around for the owner. She may not have been trained in a harsh dwarven lifestyle, but her dwarven strength had never left her and for that she felt grateful. It was confusing business, living the Hobbit life as a Dwarf, but she felt grateful for any bit of her dwarven side she could keep. She was walking up the hill when she heard loud noises of what had to be a party. She paused. At this time of night? Entirely unusual, especially for this part of the Shire. She kept walking towards her home, yawning slightly in the dark. Then she halted in front of her smial. It was her home? But that couldn't be! Bilbo would never have allowed such a thing. She hurried quickly up the steps, storming through the door. What if Bilbo were in trouble? What if someone had ransacked their house? She growled, anger flaring in her chest like never before.

They'd regret the day they decided to set foot in her home, or lay a hand against her hobbit. She barreled through the door, ready to knock some heads in as she stomped into the house. The commotion was coming from the dining room...but she had no weapons. She paused and turned to see a heavy amount of knives resting on her sister's glory box...which was absolutely ruined by mud and scrapes. Mizimel felt even more anger burn in her. They were going to die. She snatched one of the more menacing looking knives and stormed into view of the dining room, ready to maim whoever crossed her.

"Watch out!" A foreign voice shouted, accompanied by Bilbo's gasp which she knew well. A large bowl of cream spinach, which she had prepared earlier that day so that Bilbo might enjoy some later, came sailing across the room and landed directly on her head, splattering her and masking her vision of the occupants of the room which all went silent at once. She couldn't move. All she felt was her hand trembling with rage as the food dripped down her face and onto her dress. She heard someone quickly get up.

"Mizimel! I'm so sorry." It was Bilbo, handkerchief at the ready, mopping up the sticky green stuff as he removed the bowl which obscured her view. "I had no idea we'd be having guests, Mizimel, I wasn't informed until they arrived."

"And who are they?" Bilbo made a worried sound, probably knowing just how angry she was. She blinked away some of the cream, then did her best to glare at the unwanted guests, before balking in surprise. Dwarves. They had to be. They were no Hobbits, and certainly not Men. They all peered at her in an equal amount of shock, probably not expecting a dwarf lass to be in the home of a Hobbit.

"Mizimel, I-"

"We're...pleased to meet you." An elderly dwarf had recovered from his surprise the quickest. Her dark green eyes turned to him, confused and scared. Her hand clutched the knife tightly. Who were these dwarves? Why were they here? Even more panic arose as she wondered if they were here because someone had told them about the dwarf of the Shire. "I'm Balin, son of Fundin, at your service." It seemed that he had broken the rest out of their stupor, as the rest began to shout out their names in a panic to introduce themselves.

"I'm Gloin!"

"I'm Kili, at your-"

"Bofur, at-"

"Dwalin-"

Many more names were thrown out but she could not hear it over the din of their combined voices. She flinched and backed away. Bilbo put a protective hand on her back, glaring at them as they frightened his aunt.

"Quiet!" A single booming voice silenced all of them, and her eyes were drawn to a dwarf sitting at the edge of the table. He was made out in furs and dark clothing, with long black hair and piercing blue eyes. Everything about him screamed imposing and regal and she felt even more panicked. Her heart was racing, her hands were clammy, her mind was racing and she couldn't comprehend anything. Wait, was she breathing?

"Mizimel!"

The room began to spin and she felt herself fall over, the world going black.

Thanks for reading! This is my first fanfiction ever written. Please leave any thoughts or suggestions in a review. I know some of the events and time has been shifted around, but I did it to help fit Mizimel in there. Please be kind! \(o3o)/