Chapter Text
Miss Bluebell Baggins is not a respectable Hobbit.
This has never come as a true surprise to anyone. After all, they’ll say, she’s the daughter of Belladonna Baggins, once known as Belladonna Took, the wildest of Old Took’s twelve children. And while some believed, and a few even hoped, that Bluebell Baggins would take after her father, Bungo Baggins, a most respectable Hobbit indeed, it soon becomes apparent that this will not turn out to be the case.
Because little Bluebell Baggins climbs the highest trees and steals the most mushrooms of all. She wanders the forest in search of Elves, brandishes wooden swords against imaginary foes, and once, she even manages to stow away on one of the Brandybucks boats! She’s soon found of course, and she never does so again, but the fact remains that little Bluebell Baggins, with not a drop of Brandybuck blood for two generations on her mother’s side, and a whole five on her father’s side, voluntarily went boating!
And yet, it isn’t that unusual for little Hobbits to have a small adventurous streak. It’s even less unusual for little Tooks to have a large one, even when those Tooks hold the name of Baggins as well. So it is generally assumed that little Bluebell Baggins will settle down as she grows older, just as every other Hobbit does. Even Tooks settle down, though never quite to the level of respectability others achieve. Why, even wild Belladonna Took has settled down, if only a little.
Bluebell Baggins does not, in fact, settle down.
By the time young Bluebell Baggins is well into her tweens, her reputation as an odd Hobbit has become firmly established. Not quite as wild as her mother, for while Bluebell Baggins is without a doubt the daughter of Belladonna Baggins, she is also the daughter of Bungo Baggins. And Bungo Baggins is a Hobbit who likes to plan things out, respectable things mind you, well in advance before they happen. In this, Bluebell Baggins takes after her father.
It’s just that many of the things she prepares for cannot be considered respectable by any means.
No one is surprised by wild Belladonna’s delight over her daughter’s oddities. Some, however, are most surprised at respectable Bungo’s reaction, who, in the opposition of respectability, is just as delighted by them. He worries about them as well of course, but in his own way, Bungo Baggins encourages his daughter’s oddities just as much as his wife does.
But then, those who are surprised by this, were also surprised when a young but already respectable Bungo Baggins started to court an equally young and already so wild Belladonna Took.
Those who are surprised cannot be called the brightest of Hobbits.
For years, there is talk that wild Belladonna Baggins, after her daughter reaches her maturity, will take her on an adventure. And respectable Bungo Baggins? He’ll be waiting to welcome them back home, as he always did for his wife before they had their daughter.
As for Bluebell herself, she’s known with absolute certainty that she’ll go on an adventure ever since she was but a small faunt and she asked her mother if she would please take her on an adventure, one just like the ones she told little Bluebell when tucking her into bed. Her mother, with the condition that they wait until Bluebell is fully grown, had readily agreed.
In preparation of this upcoming adventure, Belladonna teaches her daughter all the things she herself found most helpful on her own adventures. Such as not wearing skirts when on the road, and to bind both chest and curls to keep them out of the way. She teaches her to make fire with as little means possible, to navigate by sun and stars, to get stains out of clothing as best as can be done without washing powers, how to hunt small animals for food, and so much more.
She also warns her daughter that the road is a dangerous place indeed, fraught with peril. There are, of course, the large animals that can easily overwhelm two Hobbits out on their own, no matter their best preparations, but those are not the greatest threat.
The greatest threat on the road are Men. More specifically, Men who are bandits.
So Belladonna teaches her daughter how to hit folks of any kind, in ways that cause the most pain possible while also causing the least amount of damage. After all, when folks of any kind are in pain, it’s much easier to run away without them coming after you. However, this is to be a last resort only. First, one must always try to reason with them, whoever “them” may be. Second, one must try to sneak away without violence.
Only when this fails should one resort to violence themselves, causing as much pain possible, as fast as possible. Then one has to run away and hide, also as fast as possible.
Additionally, Bungo teaches his daughter many useful things to know on an adventure as well. He teaches her how to read maps through the use of the many he collected over the decades, and how to perform first aid. After exhausting his own limited knowledge on this last subject, and the much less limited knowledge of his wife as well, Bungo arranges, just as he did for his wife so long ago, for his daughter to be taught by no less than three different healers, so she would be best prepared on what to do in case something does wrong.
Most important of all, he gathers every possible book there is about which greenery can be found in different regions, which are edible and which are not, and teaches his daughter how to test unknown plants so as to figure out if they can be safely consumed or not, to ensure she’ll never go hungry on an adventure. As has happened to his wife before, though, he’ll hasten to add, it hasn't happened often and never for long.
Belladonna merely waves his concerns away and points out that it’s perfectly normal to not have a respectable amount of food on an adventure. An adventure is very different from a walking holiday, after all.
Bluebell takes these lessons to heart and waits for her thirty-third birthday with bated breath. She carefully plans out the adventure she and her mother will have, how they’ll follow the Brandywine River all the way to Lake Evendim, where they will walk around the entire body of water, before following the Brandywine all the way back to the Shire, where her father will be waiting to welcome them home. Even so young, Bluebell just knows this adventure will be the most wonderful thing she will ever experience.
The Fell Winter comes.
At the age of thirty-one, Bluebell learns she won’t be going on an adventure with her mother after all. At the age of thirty-one, she learns her father won’t be waiting to welcome them home.
Perhaps some wonder if this tragedy will change the wild ways of young Bluebell Baggins, but if they do, none speak of it. Even had they been so unspeakably rude as to want to, none can. There are too many other things to do, no time for gossip, survival taking priority above all else. Survival, support, and grief.
All lose loved ones during those dark days.
But after the Fell Winter finally ends and makes way for Blessed Spring, after the first harvests, after they start to move on from their grief, after they start healing... Bluebell Baggins disappears.
There is no announcement, no notice, not a whisper of warning. One day, young Bluebell Baggins is hosting a lovely luncheon for some relatives and friends, and the next, she’s gone.
Bounders search the entire Shire from top to bottom, no piece of Farthing is left unturned. They search every crevice of Bree, even send word to the Rangers for help, yet it’s all in vain. Bluebell Baggins is gone.
No one has the heart to complain when Old Took refuses to sell off Bag End. Not after he lost his granddaughter so soon after his daughter. Though most are quite pleased, respectably so mind you, that he offers the opportunity for any to book Bag End if they so wish, so that all can enjoy enchanting elevenses, lovely luncheons, admirable afternoon teas, and darling dinners in that fine smial.
More than a year and a half passes when suddenly, without warning, Bluebell Baggins returns home. To the delight and great curiosity of all.
As it turns out, Bluebell Baggins has gone on an adventure. And not just any adventure mind you, young Bluebell Baggins travelled all the way to Rivendell!
Just as her mother once did.
Tongues wag and gossip flies, warm and fond. Truly, they say, truly, Bluebell Baggins is the daughter of Belladonna Baggins, once known as Belladonna Took, the wildest of Old Took's twelve children. The years after only prove this further, for while she never again disappears without warning and never again travels quite so far, Bluebell Baggins goes on numerous other adventures, always returning home with the wildest of tales.
No, Miss Bluebell Baggins is not a respectable Hobbit at all. So it comes as no surprise to anyone when she goes on another adventure. It comes as even less of a surprise that she does so with the Wandering Wizard.
All, however, are most surprised at the scandalous rush with which she leaves.
Bluebell Baggins is enjoying a beautiful morning by smoking some homegrown pipeweed while seated on the bench in her front garden. She’s not thinking about anything in particular, merely lets her mind wander wherever it pleases.
As it turns out, her mind wishes to wonder what she should have for second breakfast, soon coming up. An excellent direction for her mind to wander indeed.
Should she make some biscuits to go along her scones? Yes, that sounds quite nice indeed. She has some delicious blueberries just begging to be used, and biscuits will do perfectly.
Suddenly something curious taps against her nose, almost like a burst of smoke but not quite, making Bluebell open her eyes. And, startled, she tilts back her head to stare with confusion at the wholly unexpected sight that meets her.
There is a Man standing in front of her picket fence. He is very old, very wizened, and very tall. He possess a long gray beard and wears equally gray garments topped by a pointy hat, all of which have seen far better days. The Man stands slightly bend, leaning on a wooden staff with the ease of long familiarity. He’s also looking down at her with an intense expression, clearly visible even with the beard obscuring much of his features.
How odd. How very odd, in fact.
“...Good morning,” Bluebell greets after it becomes clear that the Man will not.
“What do you mean?” he asks in return. Bluebell is unsure of what he means by that. Fortunately, the Man clarifies his question. In detail, too. “Do you wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning? Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?”
Bluebell feels a smile grow at the curious reply. What a delightful surprise this Man is turning out to be.
In the interest of being polite, Bluebell thinks over her answer with care. Fine questions such as those deserve to be answered with due consideration after all.
“Why, all of them at once,” she settles on with a decisive nod, for she truly feels that she meant all those things at the same time.
The Man smiles, seemingly pleased with her answer. It’s strange, the longer she looks at him, the less he resembles a Man. Which makes no sense at all, for he looks like a Man and nothing else. Yet somehow, in ways she can't quite put into words, he also... doesn’t.
He looks oddly familiar as well.
Bluebell tries to remember if she’s met him before, yet she cannot recall anyone such as he. And this not quite Man is most memorable indeed.
“Might I ask your name, good sir? I feel like we’ve met before, but for the life of me I cannot recall where,” she confesses.
The not quite Man’s smile fades, and he huffs as he gives her an obviously insulted look. Oh dear, it seems she truly has met him before. Bluebell racks her mind to recall where, but she still doesn’t manage to succeed. Which makes the entire situation even more odd, for she cannot imagine ever forgetting this not quite Man. If not for his curious appearance, than certainly she should remember his voice, which is most pleasing to the ear.
“Have you forgotten me already, Bluebell Baggins?” the not quite Man demands in an offended tone. Well, that erases all doubt that she has, indeed, met him before. But where?
Seeing as she still can’t remember, Bluebell gives him an apologetic look. “I’m dreadfully sorry, but it seems I have, indeed, forgotten. Would you mind terribly in helping me remember?”
Her question makes the not quite Man straighten to his full and quite frankly enormous height, giving her a grave look as he does.
“I, oh daughter of Belladonna Took, am Gandalf.”
Bluebell’s jaw drops, frozen with shock, just for a moment.
She jumps off the bench, fumbling with her pipe as she almost drops it in her overwhelming excitement because this is Gandalf!
“Gandalf, the Wandering Wizard!” she exclaims, unable to understand how she didn’t recognize him before now. Not merely from her childhood memories, but the pointy hat, the wooden staff, the all gray clothing!
How did she not realize who he is the instant she saw him?
“Good gracious, it’s been years! How are you, are you well? Oh, it’s wonderful to have you here, it truly is. Are you here for Fido’s birthday party? All would love for you to light off your whizpoppers, they have been dearly missed. So have you, of course! By me, at least, I suppose I cannot speak for others, though I do know that many Tooks have missed you as well, including Aunt Mirabella, have you visited her yet– Oh dear, listen to me talk when I’ve yet to even invite you inside. Please, do come in, you’re just in time for second breakfast, and I have some lovely scones, freshly baked. Or I can whip up something else, if you wish.”
Bluebell cuts herself off there, for she knows that in her current excitement, she’ll never stop talking otherwise.
Gandalf, the Wandering Wizard, the magical figure from her childhood, one of her mother’s dearest friends, laughs with joy. The brightness of it makes Bluebell’s smile grow even larger.
“My dear, I am delighted to find you’ve not changed in the slightest,” he tells her warmly. Bluebell chuckles, still so wonderfully overwhelmed by the fact that Gandalf is back in the Shire after all this time.
“I should hope I’ve changed quite a bit. The last time I saw you, I was barely even a tween,” she teases, opening the gate and inviting him in. “Please, do come in.”
Gandalf, though he wears a gentle smile, declines with a shake of his head, causing crushing disappointment to descent. He won’t even stay for one meal? Oh please no, she so dearly wishes to talk to him.
Does he find her invitation too forward? It is second breakfast after all, though truly, given his long absence, she feels an exception can be more than made.
“Unfortunately, I cannot stay, I have some urgent business to attend to,” Gandalf explains, and no matter that it is horrible impolite to do so, for he has urgent business, Bluebell still racks her mind for an offer that will entice him to stay, if only for a little while longer.
Is it worth offering him mushrooms? Yes, it absolutely is.
“There is, however, an important reason I came here first,” Gandalf continues before she can offer. Which is just as well, for she’s just remembered that Hobbits seem to be the only ones capable of truly appreciating the wonders of mushrooms.
“Bluebell Baggins,” Gandalf says with the kind of smile that promises the very best of mischief. Bluebell leans towards him with great curiosity, and the so very tall Gandalf makes that curiosity rise even higher as he bends down with conspirative secrecy. “I am looking for someone to share in an adventure.”
Bluebell gasps, unable to believe that Gandalf has truly spoken those words.
She lets out a cry of pure delight and almost hits Gandalf by accident as the intensity of her joy makes it impossible to remain still.
“Oh that is wonderful, an adventure with you– Of course I accept!” she finishes in a near squeal, feeling like a tween all over again. Here she is, fifty years old, and Gandalf is asking her to join him on and adventure!
What a marvelous day this has turned out to be. And it’s only morning yet!
Gandalf laughs as he straightens back to his enormous height, and gives her a satisfied smile. “Excellent, that is settled then. We leave tomorrow at dawn.”
“What?” Bluebell squeaks, and she might’ve been embarrassed by that if she wasn’t so completely thrown off balance by Gandalf’s absurd declaration. “Gandalf, I cannot possibly leave tomorrow, there are far too many things I must do! I need to let the Thain know I’ll be leaving, as well as my solicitor, accountant, relatives, friends, I need to make arrangements to ensure Bag End will be looked after, go over my Will, buy provisions, pack, and most important of all, start organizing the farewell party!”
And those are only the most immediate things she can think of! Bluebell knows she’s missing many more, but in her current state it’s impossible to remember what those are. No matter that these things are supposed to be very familiar to her indeed.
“It seems you have a busy day ahead of you,” Gandalf returns cheerfully instead of retracting his absurd statement. “I shall leave you to it. Though I fear you'll not be able to throw a farewell party, there simply isn’t enough time. I do apologize for that, my dear. But of course, I’m certain you will throw a marvelous party after you return.”
Bluebell stares, completely befuddled. Does... does Gandalf mean that they must leave tomorrow?
Gandalf nods with satisfaction. “I shall return this evening in time for a friendly supper,” he declares as he idly taps his staff against her picket fence, before he turns around and promptly takes his leave.
Bluebell stares at his retreating back, stunned by the speed with which things have happened.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Gandalf says with the kind of surprise that reminds her of mischievous relatives playing tricks, snapping Bluebell out of her shock. Gandalf turns around with a cheerful smile. “We will be joined for both adventure and supper by thirteen Dwarves.”
“Thirteen Dwarves?” she repeats incredulously, certain that she must’ve misheard him. Except Gandalf nods with confirmation.
“Yes, thirteen. I’m certain you’ll give them a warm welcome, my dear,” he says with the kind of smile that speaks of being very pleased with the trick just played. “I look forward to supper already,” he finishes, before he turns around again and continues walking down the road.
“Gandalf, wait!” she yells as she starts running after him, a thousand questions needing answers still. Then she halts and hurriedly puts out her pipe after she almost scatters the burning embers all over herself, before she lifts her gaze and continues running after him–
Gandalf is gone.
Bluebell looks around with confusion. Gandalf can’t have disappeared, there is no place for him to disappear to! Not for someone of his enormous height.
...Has he hidden himself by crouching behind one of the bushes?
Bluebell checks all the places where he could have hidden. After a moment of hesitation, she even sneaks into her neighbor’s garden. Given the extraordinary circumstances, Bluebell feels that she can be forgiven for her rudeness in the unlikely event she be caught.
Gandalf isn’t there either. Marigold’s zucchinis, however, are stunning as ever.
Part of Bluebell is deeply impressed by Gandalf’s display of wizarding magic. Most of her is having a minor panic attack.
She’s to leave on an adventure tomorrow, without having any time to prepare, or even knowing just where this adventure will take her! Not to mention that she’ll be having fourteen guests over for the night.
She needs to go inform the Thain, her solicitor, accountant, gardener, tell Primula and Drogo that she’ll not be able to have them over for elevenses today, go over her Will, write farewell letters, go to the market to buy provisions, pack for an adventure, prepare the guest rooms, and so much more.
Most important of all, she needs to start cooking.
Oh dear. Gandalf was more right than he knew.
It’s going to be an incredibly busy day.
The day does indeed pass by in a blur of far too rushed preparations. Bluebell knows she’ll be the talk of the Shire for ages to come because of the horribly impolite way she’s upended the plans of so many Hobbits in her haste to get ready. Though on the bright side, many Hobbits will be very popular for quite some time as well, retelling in great detail how she rushed in and threw their day into chaos.
However, Bluebell is much too busy to spare more thought on the matter than that. In fact, she is so busy that she doesn’t even have time to sit down for her meals. Instead, she eats her fill without halting her work to get Bag End ready for both her upcoming guests and her upcoming absence.
She is incredibly grateful to Primula and Drogo for rescheduling their own plans so that they can help her prepare. Why, they stay and help until dinner time, the absolute darlings.
Eventually, as evening falls and supper nears, Bluebell feels that she’s done all she can to prepare on such short notice. She cleans herself up and puts on her nicest dress. Yet as she looks at the table laden with food, she can't help but fret.
Has she made enough? Yes, of course she has. Her guests are a Wizard and thirteen Dwarves, this is enough to fee them. It is.
...Maybe she should make another dish or three. Or four. Five. Six?
No, this is a perfectly respectable amount of food for fourteen guests who aren’t Hobbits. She’s cleaned out her entire pantry in addition to her groceries, she doesn’t need to dip into her dried stores as well. She doesn’t.
...One more dish. Just to be sure. Some sweetened apples topped with cranberries, made according to her father’s recipe. Quick to make and delicious to taste.
The bell rings.
Bluebell runs towards the door, but thankfully she catches herself before she throws it open. She mentally chides herself for her silly behavior. For goodness sake, she’s acting like a tween.
Still, she won’t deny that she is nervous. After smoothing out the few wrinkles she can find on her dress, she takes a deep breath, before opening the door with a wide smile, about to welcome Gandalf inside–
Oh dear. It isn’t Gandalf. It’s a Dwarf.
Like all Dwarves, he's tall, though not to the point of absurdity as Men and Elves are. He’s also very wide, and much of his face is buried beneath long sideburns and an even longer beard, dotted with the intricate Dwarven braids that always draws her admiration. Though in this particular case, Bluebell is more interested in the curious tattoos that cover every inch of the top of his shaved head.
Or rather, she would’ve been, had she not been so distracted by his weapons.
“Dwalin,” the Dwarf introduces himself, giving a small bow. “At your service.”
“Bluebell Baggins, at yours,” she replies on habit while dipping in a courtesy, even as she continues to stare at the two enormous axes sticking out from behind his back. This Dwarf, Master Dwalin, seems quite prepared for an adventure indeed.
He seems far less prepared for supper, though.
Bluebell mentally chides herself for her rudeness as she recovers from her surprise. This is her guest, and here she is, not even inviting him inside. Her father raised her better than this.
Bluebell summons a bright smile and invites him in. “Welcome to Bad End, Master Dwalin. You’re the first to arrive, though I’m certain the others will be here soon,” she tells him as he steps inside. Closing the door, she watches Master Dwaling look around with curiosity. Bluebell herself gives the gigantic hammer on his back a curious look as well. It seems far too large and unwieldy to be an effective weapon.
“May I take... well, I would ask for your coat, but your weapons seem to be in the way,” she quips, amused at the figure this Dwarf cuts in her cozy home. He doesn’t exactly match the scenery.
“It’s fine, lass. Where’s the food? He said there’d be lots of it,” Master Dwalin asks as he gently places his various weapons to the side. Bluebell supposes that the “he” mentioned is Gandalf.
Then, with far less care, Master Dwalin takes off his coat and throws it aside. On the floor.
This will not stand.
“Oh, there is, let me show you the way,” she replies as she picks up his cloak and places it neatly on the appropriate hanger. As for his weapons, they are... well, Bluebell supposes the place he set them down is adequate enough. She doesn’t have a designated spot for guests to leave their weapons, after all. Which has never been a problem until now, seeing as she’s only ever entertained fellow Hobbits in her smial. She makes a mental note to rectify this oversight after she returns from her adventure.
Master Dwalin watches her hang up his coat with an expression she can’t quite place, though she thinks he might be bemused. It’s always difficult to discern the emotions of Dwarves, given their great amount of facial hair. It’s even more difficult when she hasn’t gotten the opportunity to know them yet.
She herself is quite bemused to find that Master Dwalin is wearing armour underneath his cloak. Prepared for an adventure indeed. It seems uncomfortable to wear, though. But, she supposes, it probably isn't to a Dwarf. They are very strong, after all.
“Please, follow me,” she invites, and together they make their way to the dining room. Which turns out to be an incredibly odd experience, though it takes her a moment to grasp just why this is so.
She can hear Master Dwalin’s footsteps. Or rather, his bootsteps.
Bluebell has long ago gotten used to the great amount of noise Men and Dwarves make as they move around, so she shouldn’t be surprised by this. And she isn’t, not truly. Only, she’s never had a Dwarf, or Man for that matter, visit her smial, and hearing the clunking of boots inside her home is... odd. Incredibly so, in fact.
As soon as Master Dwalin sees the table laden with food, he stops and stares. Bluebell catches herself fidgeting nervously with her dress and clasps her hands behind her back in order to stop, her previous fretting back with a vengeance.
After a moment of silence that only makes her worry grow, she finally has to ask, no matter that she already knows the answer. She hopes.
“Is it enough? Only, I didn’t have much time to prepare for your arrival, and while I have met Dwarves before, I’ve never had one over for supper, never mind thirteen, so I am a little uncertain as to whether I made enough for you all. Did I?”
Bluebell winces as she realizes just how nervous she sounded. Truly, does she want Master Dwalin to think she is a tween?
More importantly, has she made enough?
Her worry grows even greater as Master Dwalin turns to face her with what is clearly a look of incredulity. But is it incredulous because she’s made enough, or because she’s made too little?
“...Aye, it’s enough,” Master Dwalin returns slowly. Bluebell lets out a great sigh of relief, her apprehension gone in an instant.
“Oh, that’s wonderful to hear. I must confess, I was quite worried it would be too little,” she says with a smile. “Please, have a seat. Would you like to have a drink? I have some lovely wine, red or white. Or an ale, if you prefer instead.”
Master Dwalin requests an ale, so Bluebell quickly fills a mug and takes a seat next to him. Master Dwalin has already started eating, which is rather impolite, given that the others have yet to arrive. Still, seeing him eat with such vigor makes Bluebell feel a warm glow of accomplishment.
He likes her cooking.
Bluebell is just about to start up a conversation when the bell rings again. She quickly goes to open the door, once more expecting to see Gandalf.
Once more, she finds herself face to face with a Dwarf instead. One whose every hair is white as snow, so she assumes he is rather old. Though she could be wrong, it’s always impossible to tell with Dwarves. He also has a curious lack of braids.
Just as Master Dwalin, this Dwarf also wears weapons. Or rather, one weapon, which is a sword.
“Balin,” he introduces with a friendly smile, before he bows with flourish. If he is old, he doesn’t move like it. Admittedly, she’s never met a Dwarf who does. “At your service.”
“Bluebell Baggins, at yours,” she replies with a smile and a curtsy, before inviting him inside. “Welcome to Bag End, Master Balin.”
“Thank you, Mistress Baggins. Am I late?” Master Balin asks as he steps inside. Before she can answer, his gaze falls on Master Dwalin’s weapons, and Master Balin brightens, clear as day. He moves deeper into her home without another glance at her, his boots clunking loudly. Which is more than a little impolite of him.
“Brother!” she hears Master Balin exclaims after she closes the door and hurries after him. Well, she supposes that excuses his rush.
“By my beard, you’re shorter and wider than last we met,” she hears Master Dwalin return with the teasing tone so common among family. When she rejoins them, Bluebell finds them standing close together, both wearing obviously fond expressions.
“Wider, not shorter. And sharp enough for the both of us,” Master Balin quips, making his brother laugh. Bluebell feels a smile grow as she watches them grasp each other by the shoulders with affection. The scene is truly touching.
The following headbutt, not so much.
“Why would you do that?” she exclaims, horrified and incredulous. She knows that definitely isn’t how Dwarves greet each other, and these are brothers!
Yet both of them are now looking at her with confusion. As though she is the one who did something strange.
“Do what?” Master Dwalin actually asks as though he is genuinely confused.
“It’s just our way of saying hello, lass,” Master Balin tells her at the same time, now wearing a smile. Bluebell bites back the torrent of words about to burst free and takes a calming breath.
Well. She supposes she has no other choice but to accept that. And, as a point in their favor, neither of them seem to be worse for the wear after that... greeting.
Bluebell shakes her head and reminds herself of her manners.
“My apologies, I was caught by surprise at your greeting. It’s very different than the ones I am used to. Now, Master Balin, may I take your sword and coat?” she asks.
“You may, Mistress Baggins,” Master Balin returns with a chuckle. “And might I just say, you have a lovely home.”
Bluebell beams. It might’ve been said for the sake of politeness, she doesn’t yet know Master Balin well enough to say it wasn’t. Even so, it’s always wonderful to hear her beautiful home be praised.
She thanks him for his compliment while gathering his sword and coat. As it turns out, Master Balin is wearing armour underneath his cloak as well, though far less than Master Dwalin is wearing. She also believes she spies the handle of a knife sticking out of the back of one of his boots, though given that Master Balin doesn’t offer it to her, she could be mistaken.
Master Balin gazes around her home with a smile. “I like the way the supports– Mahal’s mercy, what is that? ”
His loud exclamation startles Bluebell into nearly dropping his sword and coat. She watches with confusion as Master Balin stares with clear astonishment at supper.
“That, brother, is dinner,” Master Dwalin says in an amused tone. Which is wrong of course, this is supper. However, given that Master Dwalin isn’t a Hobbit, this is an understandable mistake for him to make.
Bluebell wonders why Master Balin is surprised by the sight. Was he so distracted by his brother that he didn’t notice the food before now? Yet even if he hadn’t, why be surprised by it?
“Just how many are you expecting?” Master Balin demands in a voice full of incredulity.
“Fourteen in total. Thirteen Dwarves and a Wizard, to be precise,” she replies, even more confused by his question. Is he unaware of the number of people who will be going on this adventure? That seems highly unlikely.
Unless Gandalf hasn’t informed him of the exact number? That... does seem like the kind of trick the Wandering Wizard would enjoy. Both from what she remembers of him and from what her mother told her.
“She worried it wouldn’t be enough,” Master Dwalin says, sounding even more amused than before. Oh dear, now she understands.
She’s made too much.
Well, there’s no harm in that. If there are leftovers, she’ll give them to Hamfast. Or rather, she’ll leave him a letter for when he comes over tomorrow, explaining that he is free to take them.
How odd to think that there might be leftovers. And here she was worrying she hadn’t made enough. Though Bluebell does feel that this is an easy mistake to make. While she has cooked for folk who aren’t Hobbits before, she’s never done so outside of an adventure, where supplies were always limited. Well, they hadn’t been limited in Rivendell, but even when not on an adventure, Elves eat so little that it isn’t merely absurd, it is truly painful to witness. If her guests were Elves, Bluebell would’ve never worried whether she’d made enough. However, her guests aren’t Elves, they are Dwarves. Who she is neglecting by musing about this.
“Of course I worried. I cannot have my guests go hungry, after all,” she quips at Master Dwalin, before smiling at Master Balin. “Or thirsty, for that matter. Can I get you– but I should put your things away first,” she interrupts herself with sudden realization. “Have a seat, Master Balin, and Master Dwalin too, of course. I will return in but a moment.”
As Bluebell walks back towards the entrance, she hears conversation between the two brothers rise behind her and the clunking of boots as they move towards what she presumes to be the table.
She’s just finished putting Master Balin’s things away when the bell rings once more. This time Bluebell isn’t surprised by the fact that it isn’t Gandalf but two more Dwarves instead. She is, however, most surprised by their appearance.
They're handsome. She’s never seen a handsome Dwarf before. Not that Dwarves are ugly, good gracious no. They are simply... different. They have such large noses, thick eyebrows, and so much facial hair. While it’s true that they often have pleasing physiques, they still can’t be called attractive at all. To her, at least, she would never dare speak for another’s tastes. Why, her own are quite odd for a Hobbit. As evidenced by the fact that she does enjoy a certain amount of facial hair. Only, not as much as Dwarves usually have.
These two Dwarves not only have a pleasing amount of facial hair, the rest of their features are just as pleasant to gaze upon.
“Fili,” the light haired Dwarf with beautiful eyes introduces.
“And Kili,” the dark haired Dwarf with pretty cheekbones introduces as well. Both bow in perfect time with one another. “At your service,” they chorus.
“Bluebell Baggins, at yours,” she replies with a curtsy. “Welcome to Bag End. Please, do come in. May I take your coat and weapons?” she asks as they step inside.
“Here,” Master Fili says and immediately drops two swords into her arms, causing her to almost drop them from the suddenness of it. “Careful, I’ve just had them sharpened,” he finishes with what she can’t decide is a smile or a smirk. He starts pulling very large knives from beneath his cloak and drops them into her arms as well.
“That’s quite an impressive number of weapons,” she tells him, bemused as Master Fili keeps pulling daggers from beneath his cloak as if by magic.
“I try,” Master Fili returns, still wearing that same might be a smile, might be a smirk. Either way, it suits him.
Meanwhile, Master Kili places his own swords, bow and arrows, with care next to the weapons already present. Then he pulls off his cloak and throws it aside. On the floor.
Is this normal behavior for Dwarves? She’s never been to one’s home and it isn’t a topic that has ever come up in conversation with them, so she honestly doesn’t know.
“This is nice,” Master Kili says a he looks around her smial. Bluebell feels a delighted smile grow at the compliment to her home–
“What are you doing?!” she shrieks, making Master Kili freeze from where he’d begun wiping off his boots on her mother’s glory box, and Bluebell quickly pushes the weapons she’s holding into Master Fili’s arms before leaping forward. Master Kili takes a few steps back as she crouches down, but Bluebell is far more focused on her mother’s precious memento.
“How dare you, this is my mother’s glory box, not some mat to wipe your feet off! Have you no shame? Do you think it normal to just damage beloved heirlooms after being invited into someone’s home? This is unspeakably rude, no, this is a travesty, a perversion of every form of hospitality there is, and I do not care one whit that you are a Dwarf and have different customs, if you’ve left but one scratch on my mother’s belongings, I will throw you out of my smial right this instant!” Bluebell is barely aware of what she’s saying as she frantically wipes the dirt off her mother’s glory box and checks the wood for damage.
She lets out a harsh breath, sagging with relief. Miraculously, there’s not even a scratch on it.
“I wasn’t going to damage it,” Master Kili says in a voice that is actually offended. However, seeing as he didn’t damage her mother’s glory box, Bluebell doesn’t feel the need to reprimand him. Much.
“You’re very lucky that you did not,” she still admonishes as she straightens back up and turns toface him. Master Kili looks as offended as he'd sounded, the relatively little facial hair he has leaving no doubt about that.
Unexpectedly, Master Fili is standing besides him as well, armoured and cloakless. Bluebell glances towards to side and sees that Master Fili has placed his weapons to the side and hung up his cloak.
He, at least, didn’t throw it down the floor.
“Pretty impressive how high your voice went there,” Master Fili tells her with what she’s now certain is a smirk, if only for the mocking tone he speaks with. Though, Bluebell reminds herself, she doesn’t know him well, or at all really, and given the unpleasantness that just occurred, it’s more than likely that she is interpreting his behavior in the worst way possible.
“If you want impressive, you should see the food.” Master Dwalin’s voice makes her startle and spin towards him. With surprise, she sees that he’s standing nearby. Apparently she was so distracted by her worry over her mother’s memento that she didn’t even hear him come over.
“Dwalin!” Master Kili exclaims with an admittedly handsome smile. Both he and Master Fili move towards Master Dwalin, and the three of them fell into the kind of easy conversation that says they know each other very well indeed. They move deeper into her home without another glance at her.
Bluebell lets out a huff, still a little annoyed by what happened, and now a little more so at their rudeness. But as she picks up Master Kili’s coat and places it with the others, she hears Masters Fili and Kili exclaim over her cooking with astonishment and delight. Bluebell smiles.
No harm was done, so there is no sense in remaining annoyed. And while it’s true that she doesn’t yet know these Dwarves, she does already know that they have a healthy appreciation for food. A Hobbit can’t ask for better common ground.
Bluebell is about to rejoin her guests when the bell rings once more. She does hope not all her guests are planning to arrive alone or in pairs. If they do, it might almost be better to remain by the entrance until all are present.
As she opens the door, Bluebell discovers that there’ll be no need for that, for she needs to take a few quick steps to the side in order to avoid being buried beneath a veritable avalanche of Dwarves tumbling into her home. Groans fill the air while Bluebell stares with astonishment at the wholly unexpected sight on her floor.
“Hello again, my dear. I must say, supper smells wonderful.”
Bluebell lifts her gaze from the mass of Dwarves now untangling themselves from one another with a great amount of grumbling, and sees Gandalf standing on her doorstep, bend down so that he can look into her smial. Gandalf appears both amused and very pleased with himself.
Bluebell can do nothing but laugh.
“As always, Gandalf, you’re right on time,” she tells him with a smile.
“Of course. I am a Wizard, after all,” he replies with a charming smile and merry eyes. Bluebell has to laugh once more.
This entire day has been hectic, rushed, and entirely unplanned, and this evening is shaping up to be loud, busy, and full of surprises. All because Gandalf, the most curious surprise of all, has invited her to join him on an adventure. One which hasn’t even started yet.
Bluebell can’t wait to find out what will happen once they set out properly.