Chapter Text
Galadriel kept to the shadows, which is an easy thing to do when one disguises herself as a servant. The Dwarf continued to glower at the Hobbit, successfully keeping everyone away from him.
Beautiful, he thought. Have to get him to go home…too much rides on the quest…can’t be distracted…
Galadriel tried not to laugh.
The look on his face and the thoughts in his head were completely different. The last time she’d seen someone so conflicted it was her son-in-law and his attempts at not seeming interested in Celebrian.
For some reason, Elrond was convinced Celeborn would murder him at the time.
The Hobbit on the other hand was another matter entirely.
He, too, was like the Dwarf in that the way he looked on the outside concealed how he felt on the inside, but his desires were far less complex than his admirer’s:
When did we eat last? Where’s the kitchen? How can anyone go this long without eating?!
Galadriel held the bowl of fruit closer and mumbled under her breath before approaching the strange pair.
“A gift from Lord Elrond,” she said, setting it down.
The Hobbit eyed the apples with interest. The Dwarf glared at her till she left and she hid behind a pillar waiting for them to eat.
“Try it!” The Hobbit urged. “It’s very juicy.”
He pushed the bowl closer to the Dwarf, who finally picked one up begrudgingly. Galadriel grinned and walked away. The next few days should be promising.
#
“Oi! Bilbo? Thorin?” Bofur called. “Where are you?”
“Food?”
Bofur blinked, looking around.
“Food?”
He felt something on his foot and he looked down. Bofur blinked and rubbed his eyes.
Nope, he thought. Bilbo’s still tiny. He knelt and picked Bilbo up as carefully as he would a mouse. He even had mousy cheeks! Bilbo’s lip wobbled.
“Food!” he demanded.
“All right, all right, let’s go find you something to eat,” Bofur said.
“MINE!!!”
Something hit him, almost causing him to lose balance. Bofur righted himself—nearly squishing a now very distressed Bilbo—and looked at what was clutching his hat.
It was Thorin.
At least, Bofur thought it was Thorin. The tiny Thorin glared at him and hugged the hat in his small hands.
“Oi! Give that back!” Bofur demanded.
Thorin snarled at him and hid himself in the hat before whisking off down the hall.
“Hey! Get back here you little rodent! STOP THAT HAT!!!” he raced after his hat, tucking Bilbo in his shirt pocket. The hat bumped into a pillar and Bofur grabbed it.
“MINE!!!” Thorin bellowed, though it came out more like a squeak.
Bofur tugged him off and put his hat back on before putting Thorin in his pocket with Bilbo. Thorin and Bilbo poked their heads out and looked around.
“Whoa,” they said.
“Come on, you two,” Bofur sighed. “We’re going to Gandalf.”
“Food?” Bilbo asked.
“Yes, yes, we’ll get you something to eat, Bilbo.”
Thorin climbed out of the pocket and grabbed Bofur’s earring. “Mine.”
Bofur winced as Thorin tugged at the earring. Thorin tugged on it again and Bofur grabbed him again.
“Here,” he said, taking the earring out and giving it to Thorin. “I’d rather you take that than my hat anyway.” He put Thorin back in his pocket and returned to the veranda where the rest of the company lounged.
“Hate to be the bearer of bad news but something happened to Thorin and Bilbo,” he said, setting the three-inch tall Hobbit and Dwarf on the ground.
There was a cacophony of reactions.
Laughter, horror, confusion…
But everyone was certain that if anyone was behind Thorin’s and Bilbo’s transformation, it must have been Gandalf. It seemed like something he’d do, after all, and Kili was sent off to find him and hopefully make him put things right.
But by the time the wizard returned, Thorin had confiscated his own pile of trinkets from Ori’s quill, one of Dwalin’s knuckle dusters, Dori’s knitting needles, one of Nori’s knives, and so on. Many were trying to get him to return it while Bombur took to giving Bilbo as much food as he demanded.
“Turn them back now,” Dwalin snapped, trying to reach for his stolen weapon only to nearly have his hand stabbed again by Dori’s needles, which Thorin held like a spear. “Before more madness descends on us!”
“I’m afraid I can’t,” Gandalf said. “This isn’t my spell. This is elven magic so I will speak with Lord Elrond. Likely one of his sons cast it. However, are you sure you want to turn them back to normal?”
Bilbo’s fine,” Dori said. “But Thorin’s been stealing from us point blank since Bofur brought him here! If he were normal, he wouldn’t do that.”
“Actually,” Dwalin said, “Thorin’s a bit of a kleptomaniac. He’s learned to control his urges and hasn’t stolen anything in decades.”
“So this spell makes Bilbo and Thorin on their inner urges?” Ori asked.
“Indeed,” Gandalf said. “For Bilbo, that is to eat. A natural need for a Hobbit. They do eat quite a bit. Though I don’t know why Thorin, who conquered his kleptomania years ago, would now give into it again. I’ll be back eventually. In the meantime, keep them occupied.”
Gandalf turned around and strode toward Elrond’s office. If he didn’t know what was going on, Elrond likely did. He found Elrond outside his office with Lindir carrying a stack of paper in his hands.
“Bilbo and Thorin have been shrunk. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it would you?” he asked, startling Lindir into dropping the files. Elrond arched a brow at him while Lindir tried to rescue the parchment.
“This is the first I’ve heard of it. My sons might know…or perhaps Galadriel.”
“Galadriel?” Gandalf asked. “She’s here already?”
“She is,” Elrond sighed. “Though I do not know what my esteemed mother-in-law has been up to. I have Glorfindel looking for her with Haldir. Last I saw of them, Glorfindel was giving Haldir crap about losing his mistress.”
He crossed his arms.
“But if we find her, we can ask if she cast any spells lately. This…shrinking spell…she’s done it before.”
He didn’t look pleased or amused by the idea of it. Gandalf smiled, guessing he might’ve been a victim of it when he first began courting Celebrian.
“Well, then,” Gandalf said. “Let’s find her and ask. I’m sure Galadriel will gladly reverse her mischief.”
“Here’s to hoping. Lindir, leave the papers on my desk.”
“Yes sir,” Lindir said, entering the room.
#
Thorin tugged on the large burlap sack filled with his haul, trying to keep Bilbo from eating through the fabric or the rope.
He had to push him away a couple times, earning an indignant cry.
“Food!” Bilbo said.
“Mine!” Thorin said, standing between Bilbo and the sack.
“FOOD!!”
“MINE!!!”
Bilbo puffed his already puffy cheeks and walked off.
“Mine?” Thorin asked, confused. “Mine!”
He tugged on the sack, shouting at Bilbo to wait for him—not that he could really do anything more than shout mine. He knew there was a word for what he wanted and “mine” wasn’t it.
Eventually he gave up on the bag and ran after Bilbo. He grabbed Bilbo.
“Mine.”
Bilbo sniffed his sleeve. “Food?”
Thorin hugged him tighter. “Mine.”
Bilbo cried out, waving his hands about.
“Waaaah!!”
He broke away from Thorin’s grip and ran off again. Thorin’s lower lip wobbled and he chased after Bilbo again. Down the hall, down some stairs, and into a room that smelt of fresh baked bread.
They stared at the Elves bustling about, in front of stoves and ovens…
Bilbo grinned. “Food!”
He grabbed onto a bag and climbed with Thorin close behind. The bag was filled with cherries and Bilbo’s mouth watered. Thorin dove into the bag.
“Mine,” he said, holding his hands out in order to protect what he deemed rightfully his.
Bilbo frowned. “Food.”
“Mine.”
“Food.”
“Miiiine.”
Bilbo jumped in and grabbed a cherry, taking a big bite. Thorin gasped and glared at Bilbo as though he had committed a capital offense.
Thorin growled and jumped at him. Bilbo cried out and dodged Thorin’s rabid attack. Thorin landed on top of a not so fresh cherry and it popped.
Thorin stuck his tongue out while Bilbo started laughing, clapping his hands and clutching his belly. Thorin scowled at him, nose wrinkled at the smell of sour cherry. He even went as far as to plug his nose.
“Aaaaaaaaaagh!!!” A woman shrieked.
Bilbo and Thorin looked at her.
“Food?”
“RUN!!!”
Thorin seized Bilbo’s wrist and pulled him away from the bag just as a broom descended on it, knocking the bag down. Bilbo and Thorin raced for the door, dodging dangerous brooms and anything meant to bash them. Once out of the kitchen and far away from the over excited cooks, Bilbo sniffed.
“Food….”
Thorin patted his head and led him down the hall. Maybe they could find food elsewhere since they weren’t welcome in the kitchen.