Chapter Text
A shadow fell across Bella’s book and she looked up, ready to tell off whoever was blocking the light, only to see a Man standing just past her gate. He was dressed in a plain grey cloak, with a blue hat that only added to his already-annoying height, and a wooden staff that seemed familiar somehow. He was peering at her in a way that irked her, although she wasn't sure why. Best to be rid of him quickly. “Good morning.”
“What do you mean?” He countered immediately, putting Bella in mind of some of her Took cousins, the clever ones. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”
He was still looking at her oddly, but the banter I missed this was beginning to put her at ease regardless. “All of them at once, and a very fine morning for reading out of doors, into the bargain!”
“Very fine, I'm sure, but I have no time for reading this morning. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure, and it's very difficult to find anyone.” Heart jumping into her throat, Bella’s eyes widened.
“I should think so, in these parts! We are quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty things! Make you late for dinner!” And for so many other things. With that, Bella turned back to her book and resolved to ignore the strange Man. For nearly a minute, she did. The man was still there, watching her silently and Bella grew very irritated. “Good morning! We don't want any adventures here. You might try over The Hill.” With that, she stood and stepped toward her door, her honey-gold curls swinging as she did. Let Saradoc deal with him, if he wants an adventure.
“What a lot of things you do use good morning for! Now you mean that you want to get rid of me. To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took's daughter, as if I were selling buttons at the door.”
Bella froze. It had been years since she’d heard her mother's name from anyone but her aunts and uncles, those who remembered her mother before she settled down. “Beg your pardon?”
“You've changed, and not entirely for the better, Belladonna Baggins.” Even after so long, Bella still winced from the effort not to look around for her mother.
Slowly, she turned to look up at him, realizing as she did that she barely came above his waist; tall as she was, he must have been six feet, at least! “I'm sorry, do I know you?”
“Well, you know my name, although you don't remember I belong to it. I'm Gandalf! And Gandalf means me.”
Bella's eyes widened and she took a few quick steps towards him without quite intending to, her grip on her book loosening. “Gandalf! Not the fellow who used to tell wonderful tales at parties, about dragons and goblins and giants?” And that was why his staff was familiar; she used to watch it while he spoke, convinced that it shot sparks when she wasn't looking. “Not the man who used to make such excellent fireworks! I remember those! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve!” The last Eve with those delights had been nearly thirty years earlier, when Bella was a mere fauntling, only eleven years old. “Dear me, not the Gandalf who was responsible for so many quiet lads and lasses going off into the blue for mad adventures. Life used to be quite inter— I mean,” She flushed as she backtracked, “you used to upset things badly once upon a time. I'm sorry, I had no idea you were still in business.” And he had another name, what was it?
“And where else should I be? All the same, I am pleased to find you remember something about me, if only my fireworks and stories, and that is not without hope. Indeed, for your old grandfather Took's sake, and for the sake of poor Belladonna, I will give you what you asked for.” What was he called?
The old man was looking at her impishly, and Bella drew herself up to her full three-foot-eleven, trying to appear imperious. “I beg your pardon! I haven't asked for anything!” Not from you, not ever. Wait, why do I dislike him?
“Yes, you have,” he nodded gravely. “Twice now. Well, that's decided. It will be very good for you, and most amusing for me.” Another name, one that Mother and Father used, the… the Grey One.
“Sorry, I don't want any adventures, thank you. Good morning!” Bella darted inside, heart pounding, before he could respond. After she closed the door, she realized she had dropped her book outside and groaned. There was no question of retrieving it now. She would simply read something else until she could be sure that the wizard wasn't lurking outside. Having decided, she nodded to herself and trotted off to her favorite library. When she peeked outside later and saw no Gandalf, she grinned, retrieved her book, and began reading where she'd left off before she even went back inside. In fact, she didn't even look at her door when she closed it.
That night, she had managed to put the peculiar encounter entirely out of her mind when she heard a loud ring from her doorbell. Glancing at the food on her counter, she grabbed a dressing gown and went to the door as she tied it tightly around her. I do hope that isn't Primula; the rest of the food won't be ready for an hour, at least. Or worse, Lobelia. If she smells any of it I'll have to give her some. Hoping for really anyone but her cousins, Bella opened the door and saw a Dwarf. Not what I meant. He was bald on the top of his head, covered in tattoos, and by far the most imposing person she'd seen in years. He pushed the door open slightly, pushed past Bella with a quick 'pardon me' to hang his cloak on her coat rack, and bowed to her.
“Dwalin, at your service.”
“Belladonna Baggins, at yours.” The Dwarf nodded and headed down the hall to the kitchen. Oh dear, it's a bit cold, isn't it? Tea. Tea, and then figure out how to tell the giant Dwarf to leave. As she neared the kitchen, the Dwarf, Dwalin, he’d said, came out carrying an armful of food and took it down the hall to the dining room. The Hobbit leaned against the doorframe for a moment and closed her eyes. At the sound of her… guest digging into his food, she opened her eyes, tightened her dressing gown, and proceeded to make herself some much needed tea. The doorbell rang, jolting her out of the numb stupor she’d found herself in.
“That’ll be the door,” called Dwalin. Leaving her tea on the counter where she’d been stirring it, she hurried to open the door, hoping to see Gandalf so she could give him a rather large piece of her mind. Instead, she saw another Dwarf, this one apparently older than the other, as his hair was completely white, even if he did have all of it.
“Balin, at your service.” His voice was modulated carefully in a way that would earn him the respect of half of the Shire, but all Bella could think to say was “Thank you!” She flushed again, knowing that it was not the correct response, but dazedly stepped aside so that he could hang his cloak beside Dwalin’s. “Is there cake, by any chance?” Bella nodded and scurried to the kitchen. I may not have expected them, but I’ll not be a bad host because of that. When she emerged, cakes in hand, it was just in time to see the two Dwarves exclaim ‘brother!’ and thud their foreheads together. Ah, Balin and Dwalin. I wonder if Dwarves always do that with their names. As she set the cakes down on the table, the doorbell sounded again, twice.
Two Dwarves stood before her, both young. The darker of the two looked almost worried, while the other was smiling at Bella in a way that made her blush. Neither had any real beard to speak of, although the blond one did have braids in his mustache, which jangled as he spoke: “Fíli!”
“And Kíli!” Added the brunet. The two bowed and finished in unison, “At your service!” When he straightened, Kíli, the dark one, smiled more innocently than Fíli, but the genuine expression still made Bella’s blush deepen.
“At yours and your family’s!” The both of them looked relieved at her response and came into the house, hanging their cloaks with Balin and Dwalin’s.
Dwalin’s voice came from the dining room, “Fíli, Kíli, come on, give us a hand.” The Dwarves hurried in, Bella following, only to see them readying to move her dining table.
“Let’s shove this in the hallway, otherwise we’ll never get everyone in.” Balin directed the others to their positions around the table, but the doorbell rang again, loud and long, before they began. Feeling rather wobbly, Bella made her way to the door, only to see a crowd of Dwarves, and Gandalf behind them. She said nothing, only opened the door to let them in and counted heads as they entered and gave their names: Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur.
Once they were all in, Bella rounded on the Grey One with a glare, though she felt so odd that she wasn't at all sure how effective it was. “Eight Dwarves, Gandalf? No, how could I forget the others; twelve Dwarves! With no warning, no time to prepare!” The wizard, though clearly uncomfortable stooping as he was, only chuckled at her expression and made to join the party. While she was distracted, they had managed to move all of the food in the kitchen and most of what was in her pantry into the dining room, which fit all of them after all. Bella stood and watched them eat for a few moments, but found herself so nauseated by their table manners that she retreated to the kitchen to drink the tea that was, miraculously, still sitting on the counter where she left it. Despite the uproar coming from her ‘guests’, she was left in peace for long enough to finish her tea and start another cup.
“Belladonna?” The wizard entered the room carefully, although he didn't seem to have noticed her flinch at her mother's name. “Why are you in here when the party is out there?” He chuckled. “And why were you so annoyed at not having notice when you were able to provide food for your guests regardless?”
“For your information,” she seethed, “That food was a wedding gift for my cousin, Primula. Or it was meant to be, anyway.” Feeling suddenly claustrophobic as a Dwarf entered the room, she ducked under Gandalf and past Kíli, who was standing just outside the doorway, and headed to her study, but stopped, horrified, at the sight of her dining room. She wasn't sure how some of the splatters had occurred, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know. At the sight of two of the Dwarves, Bofur, with the funny hat, and one of the something-ri’s playing tug-of-war over a chain of sausages, she had to hold onto the wall as her knees wobbled.
“Excuse me.” She looked up to see another something-ri, the little one, holding an empty plate and looking lost. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?”
Fíli came up from behind her and motioned to the little one, “Here you go, Ori, give it to me.” Taking it, he tossed it casually past Gandalf to Kíli, who spun and flung it into the kitchen. As if some signal had sounded, more of the Dwarves began throwing dishes to Fíli, and the process continued.
“Excuse me, that’s my mother’s West Farthing crockery,” Anger gave Bella the strength to step forward, although she flinched back from the dishes sailing just past her face. “It’s over a hundred years old!” A rhythmic thumping caught her attention, and she saw that most of the Dwarves who were still at the table were playing with her cutlery, and now began to swipe the knives across each other. “And can you not do that? You’ll blunt them!” She added when it seemed they were going to ignore her.
“Oooh, d’hear that lads?” Bofur said mockingly. “She says we’ll blunt the knives.”
The sound of Kíli’s voice a moment later sent shivers down her spine. She hadn't expected them to be musical. “Blunt the knives, bend the forks,”
Fíli chimed in, although his voice was closer to a Hobbit-y range, “Smash the bottles and burn the corks,” The rest of them joined in gleefully, but the sound of faint knocking at the door distracted Bella from their words. Opening the door as a new verse began, her only thought was please, no more Dwarves. When she saw Primula there, though, her heart sank.
“Bella?” Her cousin’s shocked, pale face sent pangs of guilt through Bella’s chest. Primula’s amber eyes, a little darker than Bella’s, as was her hair, were huge, terrified. “Is that the Grey One? Are— are those Dwarves?!”
The key-change made Bella flinch, but she managed to respond evenly. “Unfortunately, yes. I had a bit of a home invasion tonight, and they ate all of your food.”
Primula shook her head at Bella’s apologetic expression. “No, that doesn’t matter. Are you all right? Do you want me to call the Watch?” Her voice wavered on the last word, and for good reason. The Watch was made up primarily of passionate but inexperienced Hobbit-lads, most, like Primula, barely past their thirty-third year.
Bella shook her head. Even if the Watch fetched the Rangers, it would only cause more trouble than it was worth. “No, they're a nuisance, but harmless.” A yell of ‘that’s what Bella Baggins hates!’ came from the inside, followed by raucous laughter. Apparently they were finished with their song. Bella smiled consolingly down at her cousin, as she was more than six inches taller than her Brandybuck relative. “I’ll tell you all about it in the morning, all right? You and Drogo.”
Primula’s worried expression faded at the mention of her fiancé, and she nodded. “Goodnight, Bella. Good luck.”