Chapter Text
“How far is it from here?” Belladonna shifted in her seat for the thousandth time today, shuddering as she eyed the gloomy mountain hanging over them as a storm cloud. “What do you think, Bell, honey, can we manage it still today?”
“Not so far yet,” answered Bluebell, for the thousandth time as well, trying to look at the map and at the surroundings simultaneously. “But we will have to stop in Dale, I’m afraid.”
The road was incredibly bendy and rocky, with patches of sharp stones and deep holes here and there. Bluebell raised her eyes from the map and spotted the dangerous crack in the path in the very last moment. She tugged the reins her mother was holding and clucked on the pony. “Now steady! Mum, look at the road, please! We don’t want Dixon to lose a shoe, do we?”
“No, Bell, honey, I don’t think so...” Belladonna answered absent-mindedly, eyes still fixed on the mountain. She was smiling, her cheeks rosy from excitation. Bluebell sighed and tugged the reins again, this time to manoeuvre between two enormous boulders.
“We’ll find an inn in Dale for a night. But I do hope that they found us a good place to live in Erebor. And big enough,” she added, looking over her shoulder at the humongous pile of instruments, pipes, scrolls, pots and weird metal gizmos squeezed on the cart.
Bluebell hoped for it not only because she didn’t want to sleep with a cauldron or a pipe under her head. She really wanted mum and her craft to be appreciated and admired, as they truly deserved to be. Mum was so excited about their move to Erebor and about the new possibilities. It is a real opportunity for us, she said, a chance to spread our wings, Bell, honey. She definitely could bring much into Erebor. Bluebell just wished that the folk here was more open-minded that these fools in Hobbiton. If the Thain only gave them the last chance, she thought for thousand-first time today, and shifted in her seat. The tiniest, last chance. They wouldn’t have to leave Shire, they would...
The cart jumped on a stone, Dixon whined and Bluebell shook her head, casting the silly thoughts away. Dwelling had no sense and would not bring them back to Hobbiton. Now they had to thrive in this dark, lonely mountain in the cursed by Iluvatar, cold, wild East. In Erebor.
*
Dark and towering as it was, Erebor was impressive, with its great gate carved in mountain wall and two mighty stone dwarves guarding the entrance. Bluebell had to admit that, however reluctantly. Dixon seemed to share her objections, as she looked at the rocky path before her very cautiously and snorted often. Belladonna, however, was absolutely thrilled. When their cracking cart finally reached the gate, she was almost beyond herself with excitation.
“Good day, noble warriors!”, exclaimed she to the group of guards standing before the gate, waving her hand with smile. The dwarves looked at her suspiciously, and two of them approached Belladonna and Bluebell.
“Who are you and what business do you have in the Royal Mine of Erebor... er... miss...?” The last part was added in less secure voice, as if the dwarf guard was not sure about the gender. Now, that should not be surprising at all, Bluebell thought with a grimace, as there are no dwarf women, everyone knows that. It is a real miracle that the proper forms are known here.
“I am Belladonna Baggins, and this is my daughter Bluebell.” Belladonna did not seem to lose her cheer. She looked at her daughter and gave the guards a dashing smile. “I am here on request of Lord Balin, son of Fundin, to be the chief engineer of the Royal Mine of Erebor.”
“Belladonna Baggins...?” The guard was visibly surprised under the dark beard, and turned to the other one. “Have you heard about this?” They both shrugged and shouted the same question to the rest of the dwarves, but nobody knew anything about Belladonna’s arrival. “Well, miss. I’m sorry, but we weren’t informed, and we can’t just let you in.”
“But I have a letter with invitation from Lord Balin himself!”, Belladonna argued. She started to fidget in her seat, clearly nervous. Bluebell let out a grave sigh and squeezed her mother’s arm affectionately. Poor mum, after all this nasty business in the Shire and the endless road into the East she had to deal with these stupid dwarves and their idiotic procedures. “Look, you can check it yourself!”
With some fumbling and grumbling Belladonna produced a carefully folded paper from one of her capacious pockets. Dwarves took it and studied for a while in reverent silence, eyeing the great red seals below the tiny, angular script.
“It seems that there is an invitation, yes,” agreed one of them after a while. “But it is for a mister Belladorn Baggins from the Shire, miss. You still can’t enter.”
“But that’s certainly a misspelling!”, Belladonna insisted, jumping on her seat. Her good mood and calm were gone. Bluebell squeezed her arm once again and felt that her mother is trembling with nerves. If this show is going to take just five minutes longer, I’ll scream, decided Bluebell with a grim smile.
“There is not any Belladorn Baggins in the Shire, good sirs! It must be a mistake,” mother explained.
“Well, miss, I am still not... ”
“There is not any Belladorn Baggins at all!”, Bluebell interrupted, her voice so high, that Dixon squealed and pricked her ears, and her mother gave her a confused look. “You write us a misspelled invitation, we leave our home nevertheless, travel for a whole month on these horrid roads, come here to you and now you won’t let us in?!” She felt her cheeks turn red as she spoke to the stunned dwarves, still in this high-pitched voice. Ah, the tiny pieces in which she would tear them in, just to make the road free… but she was definitely too weak for that. Today she ate only one breakfast, and a disappointingly small one at that. “Take us to your leader,” she said instead, rising her chin.
And then she earned The Look. Her mother, a sweet, absent-minded creature who wouldn’t give a proper lecture on manners even if she wanted to, could hush her daughter with her eyes only. When she looked at Bluebell with a mixture of shock, sadness and disappointment on her face, exactly like she did now, Bluebell stopped her actions straightaway. If there was anything that she wanted to avoid in her life, it was hurting her mum. And now, after all these terrible things which happened to them, she did upset her. The Look was unbearable.
“I... er... I’m sorry. I’m very, very sorry,” she said much quieter, feeling her cheeks turn even redder than before. “I didn’t mean to shout at you. I was extremely impolite. I can offer you no excuse for my unforgivable behaviour, but I can assure you that it will not happen again, I...”
“Now, now,” interrupted the guard with a dismissive wave of hand. The other just gave a snort of laugh. “Apology accepted.”
“So, will you let us in?” Bluebell asked quickly, sporting a bright, fake smile. “Just to, er, clarify the issue with Lord Balin. Please,” she added, smiling even wider.
“By Durin’s name, let them in!”, shouted somebody from behind. Bluebell and Belladonna turned and saw several dwarves impatiently waiting for the entrance. The nearest one, dressed in a fine brown cloak trimmed with fur, gestured towards the growing crowd. “You are making a queue!”
Other dwarves supported the request, adding something about inexperienced younglings and showing-off. The guards looked at each other and shrugged almost simultaneously.
“I’ll walk you in,” said one of them finally. “But you must leave your pony and your belongings here, for now.”
Bluebell wanted to protest and her mother surely wasn’t pleased to leave poor Dixon and all her precious instruments under care of the dwarves, who were not particularly happy about it as well, but they had no choice. The guard who spoke with them before beckoned to Belladonna and started to walk quickly towards the entrance. They could but follow the dwarf into an enormous, dark vestibule. Bluebell felt a sudden chill creeping up her spine and gooseflesh appearing on her arms. The vestibule was full of dwarves rushing here and there, carrying things and shouting at each other impatiently. But apart from that she heard something else, like a distant heartbeat. It was like entering someone’s belly.
“Do you hear it?”, asked Belladonna with shining eyes, excited again. Relieved that she was forgiven already, Bluebell nodded. “It’s a thrill, isn’t it?”
It’s positively creepy, if you’d ask me, Bluebell thought to herself, but didn’t say it aloud. Instead she sped up and turned her head to the guard. It wasn’t wise to start a new life making enemies and the dwarves tend to hold grudge for decades or even centuries, if the offence is not amended properly, everyone knows that.
“I’m really sorry I shouted at you,” she said, looking up. Not that she could see much in the darkness, and the dwarf had hair on the whole face anyway, but she tried to made eye contact. “I mean it.”
“And I mean what I said, miss. Apology accepted.” The guard smiled and turned suddenly in a much narrower hall. “But I have to perform my duty, you understand that. And I’m not inexperienced!”
“But of course not, sir,” said Belladonna kindly, but her voice was slightly unsure. The hall was dark as a grave, they barely saw each other and their guide. Bluebell slowed her pace and grabbed her hand. Mother squeaked quietly and Bluebell felt herself reassured that she wasn’t the only one who was scared out.
“But I’m not a sir, miss”, the guard laughed. The echo of the sound filled the hall. “I am Birgrid, daughter of Bombur. At your service”, she added with a short nod, indicated by clanking of beads in her beard.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss Birgrid,” replied Belladonna, as if nothing had happened. That was incomprehensive.
“Wait. What?,” Bluebell demanded, stopping abruptly. “What do you mean, a daughter, like... a daughter?”
“Like a female child to their parents. Much like you, I imagine.”
“But...”
“Bell. Honey,” Belladonna hissed warningly. Under other circumstances Bluebell would have held her tongue, but today was not this day. Today the very foundations of the universe shifted.
“But you are a dwarf!”, she blurted out. “A dwarf!”
“And you are a hobbit. We dwarves spring out of earth as much as you hobbits find your children in cabbage patches,” Birgrid added with a chuckle.
“But we do!” Bluebell exclaimed, utterly confused. She heard it so many times from so many hobbits that she had not the slightest doubt about it. She even read about the cabbage patches in a book or two. Now, in the more sophisticated literature a woman would rather ‘find herself with a baby’, but you can’t expect a cabbage patch to be mentioned in a romantic ballad or in a chronicle. “Don’t we, mum?”
“Bell, honey, I don’t think it is the best place to discuss this topic,” Belladonna said, clearing her throat. She urged her still deeply flummoxed daughter to resume walking. “But we would be delighted to chat about it during a low tea someday, when everything is settled. If you would like to visit us, of course, miss Birgrid,” she added. Birgrid nodded again, metal beads clinging softly.
Finally they reached their destination. Birgrid knocked soundly, waited for a muffled Come in! and entered the room. After the darkness of the hall, warm light of numerous candles and torches was almost blinding. Belladonna and Bluebell stepped in, blinking rapidly.
“My lord, may I present to you Belladonna Baggins and her daughter Bluebell,” said Birgrid in a very official tone, standing bolt upright. Bluebell curtsied and saw that the dwarf lord bowed his head slightly. “They claim to have your invitation to settle in the Royal Mine, but there is some misunderstanding regarding the letter.”
“I can believe that”, the lord exclaimed. Now, when her eyes accommodated to the light again, Bluebell could see that he was very old, with long white beard and a mane of silver hair. His voice was a bit creaky, but he smiled at them kindly. “I remember writing an invitation for Belladorn, a gentle hobbit from the Shire, and certainly not for any ladies. Thank you, lassie, you may return to the gate,” he said, waving at Birgrid, who bowed silently and quickly left. “Now tell me, ladies, who are you and what have you done with master Belladorn?”
“There is no Belladorn, and never has been,” assured Belladonna, and started to explain her situation from the beginning, gesticulating wildly. Yes, it was she who answered the advertisement, it was her own machinery design which she submitted, she was a capable engineer and really wanted to settle down here and start modernisation works in the Mine as soon as possible. Today would be perfect; she was ready to work just after a quick brunch. Which she can well eat underway, if need be.
“Well, in this case I consider the matter settled,” said lord Balin, stroking his long beard pensively. “But you must forgive me my doubts, madam. After all these horrid things we hear about Westerners and their unkind practices towards women, meeting a well-educated lady, an engineer at that, seems unbelievable.”
Bluebell certainly wanted to deny these accusations, which in mouth of a savage from the East were not only insults, but an absurd as well, she however decided not to voice any protests. Making an enemy of him by pointing out his errors in the very first meeting wouldn’t probably be forgiven so easily as in case of Birgrid. Bowing her head to hide a scowl, she followed quietly behind her mother and the lord. Balin decided to inform the King under the Mountain personally that the new chief engineer had just arrived and show hobbits the entrance to the Mine. As he assured Belladonna, His Majesty was very impressed by her designs and is almost as eager to start the modernisation works as she is. Belladonna showered the dwarf lord with her plans and projects, talking so quickly that it was hard to follow even for a person as accustomed to it as Bluebell was. But lord Balin expressed a genuine interest and spoke to Belladonna reverently, so there was hope that her mum will be as appreciated here as she definitely deserved.
“And here we are – it is the main entrance to the Royal Mine of Erebor.” Balin gestured proudly towards a gate beautifully carved in greenish stone. Behind it Bluebell could see a long vestibule and numerous staircases leading down, into the deeps of the mine. Many torches lighted the place and if she squinted, she could see a delicate, warm glow of gold veins in the stone walls. The immensity of the place was overwhelming, but it was beautiful too, in a strange, exotic way. The constant drumming, however, was terrifying.
“Elevators,” Belladonna murmured to herself, casting quick looks to each bend in the stone walls, each staircase and each dwarf climbing the stairs or rushing down them. Bluebell could but smile – her mother was in her element again. “We could start with that.”
“That certainly would be…” started Balin, but there was an unexpected commotion in the further part of the vestibule.
Low, angry shouts echoed through the room, which suddenly became much quieter. Dwarves slowed down and shoved themselves towards the walls, making the way for a tall, richly dressed dwarf who dragged another one, clearly a miner, behind him, cursing him to bits. All colour vanished from lord Balin’s face as he rushed towards the shouting dwarf. Bluebell and Belladonna followed him, scared and confused.
“May the Creator send a sudden death upon you and your kin!” The dwarf cursed furiously, throwing the miner on the floor. Then, to Bluebell’s horror, he kicked the trembling, howling creature in the belly. And again, and again. “You will not enter the Mine again. You are banished from Erebor, Gunnir, son of Wundir! Out with you!” He punctuated each sentence with a series of brutal kicks. The poor creature on the floor, bleeding and shuddering, and begging for mercy, crawled away from the hits, but it didn’t stop the dwarf. Lord Balin approached him, keeping a safe distance, and tried to say something in a calming voice, but it didn’t help either.
“Please,” cried the miner in the most heart-breaking voice. “I won’t… I won’t ever…!”
“Out!” The following hit was so strong that the miner uttered a terrifying, wild howl of pain.
Bluebell, until now petrified from horror, woke up from her stupor. Without any thought she run towards the miner and stood between him and his maddened tormentor.
“Stop!” she shouted, shielding the miner with her own body. Her vision was blurred from rage and tears she didn’t know she had shed, but she could see that the dwarf took a step back, shocked with her presence. “Don’t you dare touch him…!”
“Who are you?!” the dwarf demanded, bending towards her, his face was distorted with anger like an orc’s mug. “Do you know who you are standing up to?!”
She raised her chin and looked straight in these mad, glaring eyes of his.
“I am Bluebell Baggins from the Shire. And you are a monster.”