Dealing with Dwarves

Chapter Two: Good Green Lady

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hobbit.

The next day by the time four o'clock rolled around Bilba felt very well prepared for taking tea with the wizard. She'd solved a number of problems the day previous and had had the morning to mentally prepare herself for the coming battle of wits. So it was, armed with freshly baked goods, impeccably brewed tea, and an outfit that included her lucky yellow waistcoat that she answered the knock at the door with a growing sense of confidence only to have the metaphorical rug ripped out from under her.

"You—I—B-belba, is that…you?"

"It's only been five year Bils, you can't have forgotten what I look like already."

And yes that was very much Bels, from the snap in her musical voice, up into the ridges and creases of a hurt and angry scowl and right back down to the defensive cross of her arms.

She might have been forgiven for needing a moment however as Bels looked like an entirely different hobbit. She'd lost a great deal of her plush curves, returning some of the gangliness she'd sported at tweenhood and her skin was fair covered in freckles but the wild mess of apricot colored hair no longer trailed behind her like a banner having been cropped to curl fetchingly about her ears and jawline. And all that was before the loose trousers, the plain unadorned and over-washed blue of her shirt and the mud-spattered hem of her long leathery looking coat and what the Big Folk called a light crossbow carried on her back. If it weren't for the curls on her feet she would hardly know her for a hobbit.

She got the full effect of this as Bels turned to level a displeased look at Gandalf.

"This," she declared, "Was and continues to be a mistake!"

There was the wizard standing idly by as if he hadn't a care in the world, oblivious to or ignoring the outright hostility blazing up from the two hot-tempered hobbit lasses before him.

"Perhaps you'd better come in," Bilba said pinching the bridge of her nose briefly, and standing aside to wave the both of them into her smial, "At least that way should I be incited to murder I'll have some time to pack before I flee the Shire."

"I do think you are both overreacting," said the wizard, thumping his staff on the floor to punctuate the point and settling his hat on the top of the coat rack.

Bilba pressed her lips together and pointedly did not tell him to mind his head on the chandelier.

"Good green lady," remarked Bels as she slipped out of her coat and set her weapon—and imagine her baby sister carrying a weapon of all things!—up against the wall with care, "I don't think you've moved anything so much as an inch since I left."

"I had the bathroom updated a little while ago and I re-painted the door, but I like having things the way mum and da left them," said Bilba, feeling strangely defensive.

Bels hummed absently running a hand over their mother's glory box and making her meandering way into the kitchen.

"Ooh, biscuits!"

"Help yourself," sighed Bilba, smoothing a hand down the front of her waistcoat and admonishing it to be more lucky, "I'll just put some tea on."

"Thank you Bilba, dear, that would be just the thing, we've had quite the rambunctious morning."

Bels had settled into the chair at the kitchen table that Bilba still mentally designated as Belba's chair, and had the plate of biscuits in front of her and was making quick work of them. Bilba couldn't help the worried flutter in her belly that wondered when the last time she'd eaten was.

"I'm sorry, Bels, if I'd known you were coming to tea I'd have done a set of meat pies to go with the biscuits, and maybe a plate of lemoncakes," fussed Bilba as she set out the mugs and things for tea and put the kettle on the boil.

Bels just snorted, tucking her feet up under her butterfly style like a fauntling and leaning back in her chair, "Please sister dearest if we're going to go through a full hobbit-style tea and discuss the food, the weather and the state of the roads I'll just go take a nap and Gandalf can tell you all about how Nelllie threw her shoe and Kíli stomped too hard on the loose planks of the Little Bridge trying to imitate a troll and fell into the stream."

"Goodness gracious!" said Bilba, alarmed, for the thought of falling into the water was somewhat alarming for hobbits who as a whole were poor swimmers, "Is this fellow alright? I'll send a note around to the Puddlewents they've got plenty of Stoor blood in them and Basil and the lads will fix the bridge up right quick."

"That won't be necessary my dear," said Gandalf in a soothing sort of voice, "Kíli was somewhat damp but in very good spirits and we left him and his brother to fix the bridge under Balin's expert supervision. Dwarven craftsmanship is entirely unmatched and while the bridge may sport some, er, creative embellishments I've no doubt it will hold up most admirably."

"Do sit down you hennish ninny," added Bels, exasperated, "Here eat a biscuit, you'll feel better."

Bilba accepted the biscuit and forced herself to sit and just get a hold of herself, she needed to have all her wits about her! And bother the dratted wizard for bringing her sister into this whole mess, she was somehow sure that he knew that Bels was her one weak spot.

So with that in mind she took a breath and fixed Gandalf with her most disapproving look.

"I think, Master Gandalf, that you had best explain just what this adventure of yours is meant to entail and how it involves my sister," she said, "I don't mean to be rude but somehow I have the sense that the pleasantries are not at all in order here."

"Oh ho, she's on to you now Gandalf," said Bels, leaning back and plucking up a jar of fat green olives from the sill behind her and popping one in her mouth, "Bilba Baggins never does away with the pleasantries, she loves that whole twisty word-game read between the lines nonsense."

"Common courtesies are not nonsense, Belba," said Bilba a bit primly, sitting up straighter in her chair.

"You are both quite correct," said Gandalf, before the sisters could slip into a familiar argument as they might an old and well-loved coat, "There is a time for courtesies and bandying wits but perhaps this is not one of those times. More's the pity, for I do enjoy a good engagement of wits myself. But do tell me Bilba Baggins, what do you know of dwarves?"

"Dwarves," repeated Bilba, drawing the word out a few extra syllables to give herself time to consider what exactly she knew about dwarves, "Well, I know as much as the next hobbit I suppose, not that that is much at all. There are a few that come through the Shire to do smithing in the villages or make their way into mannish settlements for trade but they tend to be surly and closemouthed. As a whole they don't seem to think much of hobbits but Clementine Brandybuck has a dwarven beau tucked away somewhere according to the latest from Brandy Hall."

Bels rolled her eyes at that but Gandalf was nodding a bit to himself, "A fair assessment, the dwarves are a very secretive race and they mistrust the other races quite a lot, the elves especially but men as well, for it was not so very long ago that they fell upon misfortune of the greatest kind and received little sympathy and no aid."

"What sort of misfortune was that?" asked Bilba.

"A dragon," said Bels succinctly.

"I beg your pardon, did you say a dragon?"

Gandalf shot Bels a quelling look and the younger hobbit rolled her eyes but picked up another biscuit and left the explanations to him.

"A dragon indeed. The last of the great firedrakes of the North was roused from its previous hoard by the prosperity of the dwarven kingdom of Erebor and in a single day there were thousands dead and the rest were forced to abandon their home and wander the wilds as vagabonds. Their alliances did not survive the fall of Erebor, and the dwarves believed that this was because they no longer had any claim to wealth, any who might have understood that the dwarf King Thror's own arrogance and goldlust had left his allies disinclined to show their generosity died in the War of the Orcs and Dwarves, in the battles waged on the stoop of the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria, which has been overrun with dark things for centuries."

"That's quite awful," said Bilba, blinking, "No one would help them at all?"

"Oh plenty men would offer aid and work, but the dwarves were expected to move on, to be with their own kind, meanwhile their own kind too took what refugees they could but the nobility of Erebor, particularly the royal family and their household and guard were expected to find their own halls and their own way and take back those refugees when they had done so. And so the dwarves of Erebor carve a lean existence out of the picked over rocks of the Blue Mountains trading their craft for the food they do not have the skill to grow."

"Why haven't more of them come into the Shire? Surely some sort of trading could be established?"

"Who would want to deal with the fusty old busybodies glaring out from under their bonnets and parasols?" snorted Bels

"Ahem, yes, well, as you both know the Shirefolk keep to themselves and are not unsuspicious in their habits, and the dwarves look down upon those without skill at arms," Gandalf said diplomatically.

"There's some resentment there, let me tell you," added Bels.

"All the more reason for you to join our little quest, if only to give hobbits the chance to make a good showing of themselves."

"Little quest he says," Bels scoffed, "What this cagey, meddlesome old goat is failing to tell you sister dearest, is that this little quest of ours is to march halfway across the continent to the Lonely Mountain and enter the city through a secret door by way of a map that we can't read, and then should we make it that far I'm to nick one particular sparkly out from under old Smaug's smoking sniffer, so that the dwarf king can wave it at the rest of his lot and compel them out of their mountains to slay the beast for good."

"Good green lady," said Bilba faintly.

"Belba Baggins," grumbled Gandalf, "I thought we agreed I was to break it to her gently."

"We are on a schedule," said Bels, "You were going too slowly, and we still have to cook for the hungry masses that are about to descend upon Bag End like a plague of locusts."

Bilba swayed herself upright and out of her chair and took a deep breath in order to both steady her quaking nerves and draw herself up to her full, though not terribly impressive, height.

"Gandalf, just what is the meaning of all this?" she demanded, "I don't see you for over twenty years and then you turn up out of the blue having swindled my sister into risking her life for what amount to a pretty rock? Are you quite mad?"

"Now Bilba—"

"Here now, there was no swindling—"

"Don't you 'now Bilba' me! She's barely past her majority and you're taking her off where she'll most likely be killed? I won't have it!"

"I assure you there is a very good reason—"

"I'm not a child Bilba, and you're not my mother," Belba bellowed, bringing a hand down on the table with enough force to rattle the tea cups in their saucers, "I read the bloody contract and listened to the offer and do you know what happened? I made up my own damn mind because, like it or not, I am a grown bloody hobbit!"

A hush fell over the kitchen, as Bels attempted to glare a hole through her older sister's neatly coifed head, and Bilba pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off her impending stress-headache.

"Bilba, I assure you I orchestrated much of this for a very good reason," Gandalf started, carefully, not wanting to incite another outburst, "This quest is not just about the dwarves or their home, nor is it even about the great treasure to be reclaimed. There is a darkness stirring in the world once more. It the elder days the Lonely Mountain was a pillar of defense for invaders from the East, without the dwarves entrenched there we are vulnerable and if the Enemy were to enlist Smaug to his cause the results would be catastrophic. That dragon has sat there too long, and this is the best chance we are going to have to rid Middle Earth of it with so few casualties."

Bels cocked her head with interest, not having heard Gandalf's true motives in all the time she'd spent travelling with various members of the Company. He seemed determined to make the dwarves believe that this had been their idea all along for whatever reason and this was the first Bels was hearing of the greater purpose of the quest.

"Oh well then, by all means, lead my little sister to her probable death, Gandalf, go right ahead, it's for the greater good of course I have no objections whatsoever since there will be so few casualties," snarked Bilba.

Gandalf arched one great bushy eyebrow at her unadmonished, "Occasionally and far too often, Bilba Baggins, the cost in lives of ridding evil from this world numbers in the tens and hundreds of thousands. Would you prefer it if I had left well enough alone until the orcs and goblins were at your doorstep and there was a pressing need to muster the hobbitry-in-arms?"

"Do not twist my words Gandalf you know very well what I mean by my objections."

"Then I'll ask you to extend me the same courtesy," said Gandalf, "I understand that you care a great deal for your sister, and I will tell you I do not relish the thought of leading her or any of the others in our Company into danger but it must be done, and I feel as though it must be done sooner rather than later."

"Yes, yes, very well, but why does it have to be Belba?" asked Bilba plaintively.

"I'm telling you I volunteered," Bels objected, "Don't act like Gandalf had to drag me along by the ear, this was my choice. Aside from encroaching evil or whatever these dwarves are good people and they deserve a place of their own. A home."

Gandalf inclined his head slightly, "Just so," he agreed, "Originally I had planned on directing the dwarves to you and enlisting you to be our burglar."

"I beg your pardon? Me a-a-a burglar?"

"Hobbits as a whole are light-footed and light-fingered, I've always thought that it was quite lucky that they had no interest in the criminal activities of the wider world," chuckled Gandalf.

"Filching cabbages out of Farmer Maggot's gardens, or lifting tarts cooling on the neighbours' sills is hardly the same caliber of burglary as stealing a gem out from under the nose of a fire-breathing dragon," Bilba said, settling her hands on her hips.

"Well, no, the consequences of being caught are quite a bit steeper," conceded Gandalf, "But Smaug has grown complacent, he has not been west of the Misty Mountains in an age and will not have ever encountered the scent of a hobbit before, giving you a distinct advantage."

"That doesn't answer the question of why you'd think I'd be inclined to do such a foolishly dangerous thing," said Bilba crossly.

Gandalf eyed her consideringly, seeming to be weighing the merits of actually answering her question versus sending them all on another verbal run-around. Bels sat up a little straighter, her ears pricked with interest.

"Wizards are not blessed with foresight in the way that some few unlucky dwarves and elves are," said Gandalf finally, "But there is a feeling that guides us, a sense of where we need to be and what we need to do. I am quite fond of saying that a wizard is never late, nor is he early, that he arrives precisely when he means to—but in truth it is that we arrive precisely when we are meant to. I have the sense that this quest cannot succeed without you, though I know not why that may be."

Bilba sat heavily in her chair, head spinning, "What on this good green earth could I possibly do to affect the outcome of a quest?"

"A great deal, apparently, though a great deal of what remains to be seen," said Gandalf, laying a hand on her shoulder and squeezing encouragingly, "I have a great deal of faith in you my dear. And with both daughters of Belladonna Took involved in this endeavour I should think that dragon would be better off heading for the hills."

"I haven't agreed to anything you meddlesome old goat," sniffed Bilba, dashing at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Of course not," soothed Gandalf, "I suspect Balin will have a contract drawn up for you when he arrives."

"Arrives?"

"For supper," Bels put in, "I invited everyone."

"You did what!" screeched Bilba, "How many people is everyone? Are they coming tonight? Skies above it's already past luncheon!"

"There are thirteen dwarves and then you me and Gandalf," Bels said with a shrug, "But they're really not a picky bunch as long as there's meat and ale."

"And you're just mentioning this now! We have to get cooking! Fifteen guests on next to no notice-"

Bilba was quick to surge to her feet and grab her apron from the hook on the wall, rolling up her shirtsleeves even as she went rummaging for her biggest serving bowls and their accompanying platters

"It's just dinner," said Bels, with a put upon sigh running a hand through her hair, "I'm sure you've got something in the pantry that will do."

"Belba Baggins, I thought I raised you better than that, well do you know I'm not about to serve guests a slapdash meal and since you invited them you are going to be helping with the cooking!" Bilba said brandishing a spoon with all the authority of a guard captain.

"Good green lady, this is why I left you know," snapped Bels even as she got to her feet, shrugged out of her coat and pulled the spare apron from the hook, tying it around her hips with a sloppy lopsided bow, "Nobody on the face of the earth except maybe Camellia Sackville subscribes to your notion about what is proper."

"There is nothing wrong with having a sense of aesthetics, taking pride in one's home, or making guests feel appropriately welcome-and contrary to your beliefs I do not make up stodgy rules and traditions just to punish you! We're going to need to empty the pantry-"

"Perhaps I will just take my leave," said Gandalf to no one in particular watching in bemusement as the two sisters zipped here and bustled there arguing all the while on every topic from the proper method of slicing tomatoes to the necessity of having one's smial cleaned and prepared for unexpected visitors.

And as he moved to shut the door to Bag End behind him he made a small mark on the green of the door, just to be safe.

AN: And here we meet Bels, the younger, Tookish and ever-so-slightly rebellious version of Bilbo. As always reviews with comments, critiques and suggestions are more then welcome :)