Billa Baggins of Bag End didn't think she was particularly pretty, and she didn't really mind. Flat-chested, round-faced, and with wavy, short auburn-hair, she actually looked rather masculine, which had suited her just fine as an adventurous child in her Took-blooded youth, and it still suited her just fine in her independent, self-sufficient Baggins-blooded adulthood. After all, she, herself, wasn't particularly romantic—but every Hobbit still was more so than any other creature, in some way, what with their sunshine-dances and flower-gardens—so she didn't depend on finding love one fateful day unlike her other female Hobbit peers.

She was content, and that was all she could ever ask for, she supposed. In a life where good things happened to bad people, and bad things happened to good people, (which, unfortunately, happened very often even in the Hobbit's Shire on the edge of Erebor, the dwarven kingdom) it was all she could expect.

However, when her faithful wizard friend Gandalf the Grey knocked upon Bag End's door with the startling news that the dwarf king Thorin Oakenshield was looking for a new Consort or Queen, she had no way of knowing how big her life was going to change.

Not until she found that when the king said every eligible young man and woman was to be gathered for choosing—that, unfortunately, included her.

Dwarves love only once.

Thorin Oakenshield had thought he was in love. Day-by-day, however, he began to discover that the dwarf woman he had thought he loved and in fact married was not the One.

It was only unfortunate it all ended over a sandwich.

But it is done, the king told himself, perched upon his throne after the divorce had been handled, and the news already was quickly spread throughout the kingdom that he was looking for his True Love. Although it was soon, abrupt, and so early on the eave of his previous disengagement, he had to agree with his advisors that he wasn't getting any younger. Might as well find the One now.

And as far as he saw it, Thorin was done with love. Part of him didn't really care if the One wasn't even within the borders of his expanse. He was fortunate enough to have four races under him—hobbits, dwarves, humans and orcs—although that last alliance was fragile—and he figured he had already a pretty good chance of finding the One within those ranks. But if the One wasn't there? Then what did it matter? He, Thorin Oakenshield, would remain unmoved either way.

Come what may, he thought. His kingdom was wealthy, his people were happy—and technically, there was an heir in his nephew Fili, so it wasn't as if there was pressure to find the One.

It would just have to be what it would be.

Billa wanted it to be anything but what it was.

Yet, as it was, she couldn't stop flushing, caught up in the multitude of every single eligible bachelor and bachelorette as they stood together, gathered in a line.

This was the preliminaries, they had been told. The very first round of selection. Without warning or time for preparation, they had been gathered and queued, put on display for their king just as they were. Those who he felt potential for were given a brief nod and allowed to make it to the second round. But those who were not were exempted, disqualified, and their opportunity to become next Queen or Consort ended there.

Billa Baggins, who believed herself not to be very pretty or very attractive and had very much liked it that way so far, had thought this would be the end of the road for her. She could go back to her humble home afterwards, forgetting the entire thing ever happened, that she had ever even been considered for companionship, and make second dinner for herself like normal.

So when King Thorin passed by her and nodded curtly in her direction, where others might feel joy or elation, relief—the young hobbit only felt sinking, grey dismay.

Her trial, it seemed, was not over yet.

When Billa returned home with her other bachelor/bachelorette hobbits, the news spread quickly of which ones had made it on to the next round, much to the elation of the entire community.

Out of the seventeen that had been assembled, only three of their Shire made it.

It was enough for a celebration—one that Billa did not feel so inclined as to participate in. So she went home alone that night, shut the door, made dinner, and then fell promptly asleep, clutching her pillow close as her stomach writhed and twisted with the unknown possibilities this new development potentially promised.

The next round, she discovered as she awoke the next morning, would begin that very evening.

A show, also parading themselves much like the event yesterday—except they were given time to prepare—and even, it seemed, commanded to.

Dress in your best.

At the words, Billa finally felt a smile curve the sides of her mouth upwards. Oh, she thought happily. This is for sure where I will be eliminated. I cannot possibly compare to the slender beauty of a human, or the gleaming muscles of orcs. Who am I but a little hobbit?

And so, pleasant thoughts of being politely turned down or suddenly asked to leave the competition hummed through her brain, and Billa almost skipped away. In fact, she would have.

If several of her hobbit neighbors hadn't demanded that she let them dress her for her 'presentation.'

Mystified, Billa wasn't sure what to say. But she wouldn't be a very nice hobbit if she told them no—and besides, what chance did she have of winning, anyway?—so she shrugged and asked, "Why not?" and let them take her away for preening.

It took far longer than she thought it would.

Apparently, they had far too much fun putting flowers in her hair.

"You'll look so lovely for the king, my dear," one of them—Freya, from just up the road of Bag End—said, curling short auburn locks and pinning in purple asters and geraniums.

Another—Nona—pinned in white hepaticas, and smiled at their work as a third—Himie—rubbed floral lotion into Billa's hands and forearms. The hobbit herself, being primed and ready, tried not to move a muscle, but she couldn't help but think this was all for nothing. A waste of time—she was going to be turned down at this point in the proceedings, anyway.

So it was with a heavy heart that she muttered tonelessly, "…do you really think there's a chance he'll select me?"

Freya's hands stilled momentarily, before she continued her work slowly. Her heart, it seemed, was just as weighted down as Billa's. "We have to believe, Billa. You…could you imagine what it would mean for the Shire if the Queen or Consort turned out to be a hobbit? We'd finally…we'd finally have a voice. Someone to speak for us. It'd be the change we've all been waiting for."

Billa pressed her lips together, and now that Himie was done moisturizing her skin, clasped her hands in her lap as she considered this. It was true hobbits were, by nature, very peaceful creatures—far more so than humans, and even the elves which had, from time to time, entered combat.

Throughout all of their history, hobbits had never once had an army. They've never had to go to war.

This made them incredibly vulnerable—and they never realized it until it was too late. Until their kind's lands began to be taken over by other races' kingdoms, scattering them as a race and numbing down their culture. The very hobbit Shire Billa lived in was one of these; a once hobbit-run gentle homeland until the dwarves under the mountain—Erebor—stretched their borders to contain it.

And hobbits couldn't—and, quite frankly, didn't want to—fight back.

This, of course, left them completely at the mercy of their conquerors.

For the hobbits of the Shire under Erebor, they had been extremely fortunate with the dwarves. As long as they kept mostly to themselves, and didn't interfere with the dwarves' riches, wars, and business—then they were left alone as well.

But that was just that. As long as the hobbits didn't interfere, things were okay. Nothing protected them from other races interfering with theirs.

Billa gave a tiny nod. "I…um, understand…but you know, you really shouldn't get your hopes up." She laughed nervously, lightly, trying to chase away the butterflies that fluttered around the concave of her stomach. "I'm just your average hobbit. There's nothing special about me."

"Ah, but that's just it. You're a hobbit." Himie winked, as if this were some great fact.

Billa could only stare in befuddlement. "Um…yes…? So?"

"We hobbits may be no bewitching elves," Freya continued, coming around the front to survey their work. She smiled brightly, apparently pleased with whatever she found. "But we're…charming. For sure. And who knows? Hobbits have the grandest of luck sometimes, you know."

Billa swallowed tightly in response, something deep within her not entirely content with that. She knew that if anything did happen (miracle of miracles), she didn't want it to be because of luck.

She wanted it to be because of love.

That night, they were gathered again and brought to the castle—all thirty-five or so of them that remained—although Billa Baggins never once let go of the hands of her two other companions the entire way.

The three hobbits stuck together, surrounded by their taller creatures, until the Great Hall, where they were shuffled into a line and separated for viewing.

Billa couldn't stop flushing, and she wished she weren't so nervous or so embarrassed about her attire. After all the primping Freya, Nona and Himie had done with her hair and skin, they ended up giving her a simple white dress—literally, so simple, it was almost boring—as the final touch. And really, she was relieved for it.

The more boring I seem, the less of a chance I'll be chosen, she repeated to herself, taking deep breaths.

When the king's shoes hit the stonework flooring with their intimidating clomp, clomp, she froze with momentary terror and watched as he began his surveying.

Her heart fell and leapt at the same time (Why the silly dichotomy, Billa? she chided herself) as she noticed that after the first ten people, only one person did he actually gesture forward in the accepting sign of, 'You I still will consider.'

Then he landed in front of her, steel eyes raking over her figure.

She couldn't stop the fire that scorched her face at his penetrating gaze—something in the back of her mind screamed, Has he taken this long looking at all the others so far? Or is this amount of staring time unusual?—before she meekly bowed her chin to her collar in an attempt to avoid his eyes.

Then, he uttered such startling words, that she wanted the ground of Middle-Earth to swallow her and everything that existed above it to forget that a hobbit named Billa Baggins had ever existed.

"…odd. I had thought you were male."

Crystal's Notes: Well. 8D Here's an experiment, for sure. It's been forever since I read The Hobbit, and I have fallen in love with the movie, yet I had never had an inkling for writing fanfiction for it...until now. ;A; When I got this crazy AU idea, which is largely largely based on a classic Biblical story. (Get the sandwich reference?) However, I will be taking my own spins with it, so while remembering Esther, do take a pinch of salt. 8D And remember this is fanfiction.

So.

For those who are disappointed it's not BilboxThorin, rest assured that Bilbo has been made feminine for a very huge plot point (and...because I simply stink at writing slash couples ;A; ). So it'll work out. She's still our favorite hobbit (besides Frodo and Sam), and I tried to keep her even as physically close to Martin Freeman as possible (...because I love him), while being feminine at the same time. So hopefully...it works.

Thank you for reading! Tell me if you enjoyed (or if you hated-that, I suppose, works, too)!

And have a wonderful day!