Chapter Text
After a long and tiresome winter, spring came to the Shire at last. Thick drifts of snow melted, allowing the grass to appear and turn lush and green once more. Flower blossoms of all colours imaginable were blooming, adorning every garden with their delicate beauty. The Shire in spring was a paradise. For Bilbo it meant that after dull months spent mostly holed inside their family smial, she could once more enjoy her long walks to East-farthing woods with some good book or fuss about the garden with her mother.
That of course applied to all inhabitants of Hobbiton and the Shire generally. Gardening of course, not running off for a whole day. It was a generally acknowledged fact that hobbits were creatures of comfort and so leaving home for an adventure was among most considered a nasty disturbing business. Respectable hobbits tended to their gardens, cared to eat all proper seven meals a day and only left their houses to visit some of their numerous relatives a few smials down the street or to do some shopping at the town market. But the truth was, that the family of Bungo and Belladonna Baggins was not considered that much respectable for many years now.
When Bungo married Belladonna, wild and adventurous daughter of the Shire Thain Gerontius Took, everybody expected the young woman to settle down and give Bungo a surplus of curly-haired fauntlings. After the complicated birth of their firstborn however, Belladonna was, much to their chagrin, said not to be able to bear any more children. Bungo and Belladonna accepted that, taking consolation in little Bilbo, but fate had different plans for them.
One day, when Bilbo was six years old, a letter came to Bag End. It was sad news. Belladonna’s old friend from her adventures before marriage, dwarf lady Lori, went down with winter illness and unfortunately passed away, leaving behind two dwarflings. Being her closest friends and having no other known kin, she asked in her will if Belladonna and Bungo could become their guardians and look after the unfortunate orphans. Of course Belladonna didn’t hesitate a second and Bungo, who would do anything for her, caved under her pleas. And so eight years old Ori and only one year old Dori became part of the Baggins family.
Several years later Bombur and Bofur moved to Bag End from Ered Luin as well, as their older cousin Bifur wasn’t able to look after them anymore. Earning his living as a warrior, he ended up being out of home for prolonged periods of time and when he was during one of skirmishes with orcs badly injured, leaving an axe stuck into his forehead, he had to give the gals up. Mutual friend of Bifur and Belladonna, a wizard, suggested that the hobbits could adopt two more children and with a smial as big as Bag End, built by Bungo to accommodate many little feet, they accepted readily.
And so it came, that Bungo had five lively daughters, four of them dwarven kind. Not that it mattered to him or his wife; they loved all of their children immensely. Other inhabitants of the Shire however weren’t so willing to accept dwarves amongst them, for hobbits were naturally suspicious towards other races and tried to associate with outsiders as little as possible. After some time though, they of course got used to four girls who stubbornly wore boots and caused many mischiefs around Hobbiton. Bungo on the other hand was no longer deemed fully respectable much to his wife’s delight.
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To celebrate the return of the spring, hobbits were every year throwing an annual Spring party under their Party tree. Winter months were dull and uneventful for not just Bilbo, so naturally, the excitement spread like a wildfire once the date of the fête was set. Every inhabitant of Hobbiton was eager to show off their cooking and baking skills and in every smial there was a great deal of commotion.
It was no different in Bag End. Bilbo, Bombur and Dori especially shared their love for cooking and so they helped their mother around the kitchen in every way they could. The chaos that was now occurring in Bag End was a little too much for Bungo, who would often vanish, grumbling under his breath that he was becoming too old for that much hubbub, only to be found in their neighbour’s smial helping Mr. Holman brewing (and sampling) his famous moonshine. However, the general excitement had yet to be fuelled.
Three days before the festival, Belladonna returned home with Bofur from the market, both of them bouncing with exhilaration. ‘Green Lady be praised, everybody to the kitchen!’ Belladonna shouted across the whole smial as soon as she crossed the threshold. When Bilbo trailed there with a book in her hands, other members of the Baggins family were already sitting around the table, Bombur munching happily on a cookie, Ori getting busy with a pair of knitting needles and Dori sipping on her usual afternoon cup of chamomile. Arching her brows expectantly, Bilbo glanced at her father who, to her amusement, just shrugged wordlessly and rolled his eyes.
‘Listen carefully, my dear daughters. We spoke to my sister Mirabella, you know she knows every gossip there is’ - at that point it was Bilbo’s turn to roll her eyes - ‘and a rumour has it that a dwarven party was invited to join us for the festivities!’
Bofur, who was fidgeting in her place, cut in and yelped: ‘And said party apparently consists of several single well-to-do dwarves. There was even gossip about royalty included!’ She then grabbed Bombur’s sleeve and the couple started whispering animatedly. Bilbo exchanged slightly terrified looks with Ori. They both knew what that meant.
With two daughters of age this was of course quite a bit of information for Belladonna, for her wish was that the girls married well. ‘Bilbo, stop making those faces! You and Ori are old enough to marry and start families of your own.’ Belladonna scolded. ‘This may be a great opportunity for you! Of course me and your father would never push you to marry just for money and a comfortable life if you want to marry for love, but well… Who said one of the dwarves would not take some interest in any of you, my precious girls?’ Bilbo swallowed any retorts. She knew there was no point arguing with their mother. A sheepish look from Ori and at least a neutral expression on Bilbo’s face satisfied her well enough.
What Belladonna found infuriating though was the total lack of interest in such news from her husband. ‘Bungo, don’t you care at all about our daughters’ fates?’ She was ready to scold him properly about that when he finally spoke.
‘My dearest blossom, I have already spoken to your father yesterday so this is hardly fresh news for me. As you may remember, he happens to be a Thain and he is the one who invited them. You can rest assured we will be introduced to the dwarven company among the first.’ He responded placidly. The collective shriek of delight his wife and younger daughters produced was a deafening one so he tactically retreated to the back garden to enjoy his afternoon pipe in peace and left his girls to their antics.
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Three days passed in a blink and the Baggins family was running frantic preparations for the feast. Belladonna fretted about her daughters more than usual, making them wear their best dresses and according to hobbit fashion, she intended to braid some flowers into their hair. There she got crossed with Bilbo, who rejected the idea of intricate hairstyles swiftly but after some persuading, Bilbo accepted to have at least two little braids in her wild mane of honey coloured curls.
Her other sisters succumbed to Bella’s plans without putting up such a fuss, even though Bombur was too interested in blueberry cake Bilbo baked that morning to really pay attention to what Belladonna did to her hair. Dori, as per usual, announced she hated parties and didn’t want to come.
After almost four long hours of pampering them, Belladonna finally proclaimed her family respectable enough. Bilbo was dressed in a brown skirt long to her calves, white blouse and ruby red bodice embroidered with green and golden leaves. Ori was wearing a long wine red skirt, white blouse, auburn vest which complimented her hair nicely and a set of knitted dark brown scarf over her shoulders and fingerless gloves. Dori chose to wear a long dark purple skirt, lavender blouse and plum bodice with silver embroidery. Bofur was clothed in a long olive green skirt, cream blouse and apple green vest, sporting her ridiculous fur hat, much to her mother’s despair. Finally for Bombur, Belladonna chose a long charcoal grey skirt, white blouse and tangerine vest matching her fiery hair. All of her dwarven daughters were of course wearing soft leather shoes fit for dancing.
They arrived at the party meadow among the first, placed a huge amount of food of their making on the tables and helped with some last minute decorating. As Thain’s close kin they were seated near his table which he would share with the awaited dwarven company.
The party was in a full swing when said dwarves finally made their appearance. Even the musicians and couples dancing under one of the elevated tents paused and stunned silence reigned over the meadow. Everyone regarded their dwarven guests with awe and whispered with their friends. Bilbo found that much fuss about a few dwarves quite ridiculous. The company consisted of seven dwarves, six of which appeared to be males. The last one was apparently a female, although that would have been tricky to distinguish, were the lady not wearing a dress.
Bilbo watched her grandpa Gerontius stand up to formally greet the newest addition and they went about exchanging some pleasantries. She was at the moment talking with Ori - who looked exceptionally beautiful that night in her opinion - when their cousin Lobelia, a great gossiper, joined them, barely containing her thrill. She apparently managed to sneak upon the conversation between Thain and the dwarves and eavesdropped on some information.
‘Good gracious, the rumours were true!’ She hastily whispered to Bilbo and Ori. ‘See that tall one dressed in a furred blue cloak with long black hair?’ Lobelia pointed not so subtly at the dwarf who regarded the assorted hobbits with a badly concealed disdain while the rest of his companions did the talking.
‘You mean that grim person with quizzical brows?’ Bilbo quipped.
Lobelia suppressed a giggle and nodded. ‘That is apparently dwarven prince Thorin, son of Thrain. He is to become King under the Mountain one day. And he’s single! Imagine that, all the wealth and comforts of being his queen!’ She squeaked.
Bilbo had to shush her to keep her voice low. She eyed the prince from head to toe again and shrugged. She didn’t care very much about her future husband’s money. What she was much more interested in was his kind nature, brightness of mind and love for reading. In her heart Bilbo knew she couldn’t settle for someone who would make her miserable. For that, Lobelia often called her teasingly a hopeless daydreamer who consciously doomed herself to remain unmarried forever and ever.
‘Do you happen to know who the others are?’ The gentle voice of Ori chided in. Bilbo noticed she was sending swift glances towards the bald, tattooed and overall intimidating dwarf who had two giant axes striped on his back. Very unusual to bring weapons to a party!
Ori’s sideways glances apparently didn’t go unnoticed even by Lobelia. ‘Oh. The bald brute in furs and leather is Mr. Dwalin, son of Fundin, prince’s cousin and personal guard. The white-haired one clothed in red is his older brother Mr. Balin and the only lady dressed in dark green is their younger sister, Lady Farinne. The grey haired fellow with trumpet in his ear happens to be Prince’s personal healer and the other two dressed in armour are their guards.’ Lobelia spilled her cunningly obtained knowledge with a victorious smirk.
Meanwhile, most of the hobbits grew tired of gaping at dwarves who were talking to their Thain and so they happily continued enjoying the festivities. Bilbo had to laugh loudly when Bofur dragged Bombur to the dance floor, Bombur still holding a piece of pie in one hand and several biscuits in the other. The pair was moving clumsily, stumbling into other dancers and throwing them off, Bombur trailing crumbs everywhere while overly enthusiastic Bofur swirled and bounced around her. It was truly a sight to behold.
Approximately at the same point, Belladonna finally lost her patience with her father’s eloquent ways of talking and decided to step in. Not heeding their protest, she ushered her husband, Bilbo, Ori and Dori to Gerontius. While being herded like a sheep for slaughter, Bilbo suddenly wished she was on the dancefloor along with her other sisters. She winced when Bella stomped her father’s foot with a wide but thoroughly scary smile. At least poor Gerontius finally got the clue and he proceeded to introduce his offspring to the esteemed guests.
‘Your Majesty, allow me to introduce one of my daughters, Mrs Belladonna Baggins. This is her husband Mr Bungo Baggins and my lovely granddaughters, Miss Ori, Miss Bilbo and Miss Dori’. Grandfather pointed at each of them respectively. Bungo bowed politely and girls with their mother made curtsies. The prince nodded slightly in acknowledgement but said nothing.
‘We are delighted to make your acquaintance Your Majesty. We have two other daughters, but they are already dancing.’ Belladonna said with a wide smile.
Bilbo then noticed that Ori had a slight blush on her cheeks. The cause of her embarrassment probably was that Mr Dwalin regarded her with some interest. Quickly forming a plan of action in her head, she gathered her courage to speak up. ‘Do you dance, gentlemen?’ Bilbo asked with a smile.
‘Not if I can help it.’ Were the first few words she heard from the prince. His voice was very deep and rough. As he rudely brushed her off, he was sporting a huge frown and looked downright irritated that she dared to bother him with such trivialities. Bilbo decided on the spot she didn’t like him at all.
After several seconds of awkward silence, Mr Balin salvaged the situation. ‘His Majesty is tired after our long journey, but surely he wouldn’t object if me and my brother asked these lovely ladies for a dance?’ The pointed look he gave Prince Thorin spoke volumes of what he thought of his rudeness. Prince Thorin frowned even more but nodded in affirmation and turned his back to them.
‘Allow me to oblige, Miss Baggins.’ Mr Balin offered her his hand, smiling warmly, and Bilbo gladly took it, if only to get away from the unpleasant prince. At least her plot worked out in her favour because Mr Dwalin asked Ori for a dance a bit gruffly but with a small smile. Bilbo found out that Mr Balin was prince’s advisor and he was a very pleasant company capable of engaging conversation. She also watched Ori from time to time and was content to find her engaged in another dance with Mr Dwalin, who held her like she was made of glass. Positively adorable.
After a while, Bilbo noticed from her observations that while at first everyone was in awe with the dwarven Prince, no one except his own company cared about him at the moment. He was swiftly labelled as arrogant, rude and thoroughly unpleasant fellow and not even his Mountain could have saved his reputation amongst hobbits. She couldn’t quite disagree.
She enjoyed two dances with Mr Balin before he excused himself, lamenting his aching joints. After that, Bilbo danced with some of her hobbit cousins. When she started to feel a little tired herself, she was ensnared by flushed Lobelia and the two of them headed out of the crowd to get some fresh air. As they walked together in the darkness of the night, covered by shadows of the trees surrounding the party meadow, they caught a few words of a discussion between prince Thorin and his personal guard.
‘So how do you like local lasses, Thorin?’ Dwalin said with a rough chuckle. That picked Bilbo’s interest and Lobelia’s as well. They exchanged a look and hid behind a tree to stay out of view.
‘The only one who looks quite amiable apparently caught your attention.’ Prince Thorin replied a bit sternly.
‘Aye, I find it quite surprising to find dwarven lasses in the land of the halflings and four in one family too.’ Dwalin shrugged. ‘What about her sister, the honey-haired one, though? I know she’s a hobbit but Balin said she seems to be a bright woman and you know his opinion means something.’ Dwalin countered.
Lobelia started giggling and Bilbo had to nip her arm so she would not give them away. ‘Barely tolerable I would say, but not handsome enough to tempt me. She looks like a grocer.’ The prince growled with irritation noticeable in his voice. Bilbo froze and felt a sting of hurt. Not that she cared about his opinion but that was a rather rude remark!
‘But you should return to your partner and stop wasting your time with me. Rogi and Faern are capable enough to guard me from those vicious hobbits by themselves.’ Prince Thorin seemingly ended the conversation and they both headed back to the illuminated meadow.
‘What an unsavory person, prince or not, he almost deserves to be smacked with my umbrella!’ Lobelia fumed on her behalf. ‘On the other hand, if he liked you, you would have to talk to him.’ She mused sagely.
‘Now that would be a real tragedy.’ Bilbo remarked. Both of them snickering, they too decided to get back and snatch some more wine.
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When the night grew late and most of the hobbits were too drunk to dance without stomping their partner’s feet or hold a comprehensible conversation, Bilbo decided it was just about the right time to drag tipsy Lobelia to bed. It wasn’t anything new, Lobelia spending night in their smial, so Bilbo’s parents gathered their remaining offspring - much to Bofur’s vocal protests - and headed towards home.
Bilbo dragged Lobelia into one of the spare rooms she often used when invited overnight, bid everybody good night and disappeared into her own bedroom. When she wiggled out of her fancy clothes and changed to her nightgown, there was a knock on the bedroom door. She opened to find Ori standing there with a sheepish smile.
‘Well come on, come in, you know very well that you don’t have to knock, silly!’ Bilbo moved from the door to let Ori inside. She suspected her sister would like to talk about the events of the night. Ori settled on her bed and hugged a pillow. She sat down next to her and smiled expectantly but Ori was just staring at her hands and remained silent. Bilbo decided to start the conversation instead. ‘You seemed to be enjoying yourself tonight.’ She smirked knowingly.
On that account, Ori’s cheeks went as red as prized tomatoes. ‘Y-yes, it was a pleasant evening, I dare say.’ She almost whispered. After another long pause Bilbo decided she had to push a little if she wanted to get some sleep tonight.
‘Any thoughts of the dwarven company? It’s not an everyday opportunity to meet some of your own kin.’ Bilbo noted casually, gauging her reaction.
‘Don’t be silly Bilbo, I may be born a dwarf but in heart I’m more of a hobbit. Even when I can’t walk around barefooted like you, mama and papa.’ Ori said hastily. ‘The dwarves seemed pleasant enough I think.’ She added.
‘Well, Mr Balin seems to be a proper gentleman and his brother seems to be nice too, if you look past that scary appearance.’ Bilbo agreed. ‘But their prince did not ensnare many admirers with that attitude of his. Glaring and frowning on anyone who even glanced in the direction of his majestic self hardly won him any favour with locals.’
‘Yes, he appears to be a rather gloomy person. But after all, he’s a prince; perhaps his mind was just troubled with some… You know, ruling business. What he said about you anyway…’ Ori trailed off.
‘So Lobelia told you? Scandalmonger, that girl! Not that it surprises me though.’ Bilbo exclaimed with a little scowl. ‘Yes, he happened to express his opinion through a snide remark or two about me. But don't worry your pretty head about that; it won’t cause me sleepless nights.’ Bilbo snorted dryly.
‘Are you sure?’ Ori asked hesitantly, squeezing the pillow unconsciously. ‘Yes, don’t worry about me and go get some beauty sleep. What if you happen to meet Mr Dwalin in town? You need to look fresh and cute.’ Bilbo teased.
‘Oh shush!’ Ori huffed and hit her with the pillow, blushing heavily. Then she hugged her good night tightly and slipped out of the room, leaving Bilbo alone.
She burrowed herself under the blankets. Snuggled in comfortably, Bilbo replayed the events of the evening again. She enjoyed talking to Mr Balin and was pleased to see his brother quite smitten with Ori. About their sister, Lady Farinne, there wasn’t much to say because they only exchanged a few polite phrases, but she seemed to be a bit stuck-up and not that pleasant like her older siblings.
And Prince Thorin… Bilbo sighed to herself. Well, he was quite handsome for a dwarf, with his tall muscular figure and long mane of shiny black hair. He had undoubtedly beautiful blue eyes which reminded Bilbo of forget-me-nots. But that attitude of his! Bilbo wouldn’t say it out loud but to herself, she had to admit that the prince did hurt her pride. In the end, she shrugged it off. 'Whatever. It’s not that I will be meeting him regularly. No, we probably won't even talk to each other again.' And with that resolution she finally drifted to sleep.