Much Ado About Nothing: Chapter 9
Title: Much Ado About Nothing
Rating: T (rating subject to change)
Fandom: Tolkien's Hobbit
Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Bilbo Baggins, more to come
Genre: Romance/Adventure/Humor
Summary Belladonna Baggins, child of Bungo Baggins and Belladonna Took, hadn't much taste for Adventure. More's the pity that Adventure had a taste for Belladonna Baggins A what-if fic.
WARNINGS: Liberal application of gender-swap! As in, always-the-other-gender gender-swap! You have been warned! Eventual explicit scenes, liberal application of fibercrafting, comedy of errors
Almost as soon as breakfast was finished, before Balin departed, a shy-looking Ori approached Bilbo.
“Miss Bilbo! Um you said - when you were braiding my hair-” Ori shot a nervous glance at Balin, but rallied her courage. “When we were discussing... cultural differences. You said you’d tell me more about the history of your families.” She finished, clutching her journal to her chest and trying not to look too hopeful. Balin turned towards them, interest piqued. Bilbo smiled broadly.
“Oh yes! I was going to look in at the libraries, so if you come with me perhaps we can go and discuss it!” She said, warm smile on her face. “Mr. Balin, would you like to accompany us?” Bilbo asked quickly at the intrigued look on the old one’s face. He nodded, a small smile blooming on his mouth. Ori smiled brilliantly. Bilbo noticed over Ori’s shoulder that Fíli was looking slightly awkward, like he wanted to ask something but wasn’t quite sure how. As she and Balin rose to accompany Ori to the library, she beckoned him to her side. She dropped slightly behind Ori and Balin as they walked, to better speak with Fíli in relative privacy.
“What is it that has you lost for words, my lad?” She asked softly. To her surprise he blushed shockingly pink, trained his eyes somewhere in the direction of his toes, and mumbled something she couldn’t understand. She jogged his elbow to get him to look up at her, giving him a quietly reassuring smile. He huffed a little, a tiny, sheepish smile spreading across his cheeks.
“...Would you braid my hair? Like you did for Kíli and Ori.” Fíli asked, at a slightly more audible mumble. Bilbo laughed brightly.
“Of course I will, my lad!” She said brightly, tucking her hand into his elbow. “So long as you don’t mind being bored to death by family trees, that is.” She cautioned. He smiled brightly.
“Might take a nap. I didn’t sleep well last night because someone commandeered my snuggly little brother.” Bilbo chuckled; a bright, airy sound. Fíli smiled a pleased, slightly embarrassed little smile.
Soon enough the tall, lovely elf librarian had shown the courteously charming hobbit and the three mistrustful dwarfs to a secluded corner of the library and provided parchment and ink. Balin and Ori were leaning over a hastily-sketched family tree, while Bilbo happily chattered on quietly, braiding the top layer of Fíli’s hair into a simple enough four-strand rope plait. Each name was followed by two sets of dates, one in the hobbit timekeeping tradition, and the other in the tradition of the greater world. She had had to explain that first to them.
Ori frowned suddenly.
“Miss Bilbo, why are the dates all so close together? None of these hobbits have exceeded one hundred and fifty.” She mentioned. Bilbo frowned, confused.
“Well, one hundred and fifty is the outside of elderly. Most hobbits live to be around one hundred and thirty.” She explained. Balin suddenly looked incredibly old and tired, and Ori incredibly young and vulnerable. She looked at them, concerned.
“Miss Bilbo, it seems we differ here as well. Dwarfs live up to two hundred and fifty years. For children of Durin’s line there have been accounts of those that lived up to four hundred.” Balin told her calmly. Bilbo’s eyes grew round as saucers. “How old are you, Miss Bilbo?” Balin asked gently.
“I’m forty. Everyone says I should be married by now, that if I edge any closer to fifty, no one will want to marry me.” She replied blankly. Balin sighed, passing a hand over his eyes.
“To me, that seems no more than a babe. I have seen two hundred and two years, Ori here - seventy-nine?” Ori nodded quickly. Balin sighed heavily. “If we mention this to anyone - well, they would as like leave you here, with the elves. Would you prefer that?” He asked. Bilbo paused, her eyes tracking to Ori’s wide brown ones, and then down to Fíli’s golden head.
“I... no, I believe I will press on.” She said, hesitant, soft. Unsure. Balin nodded.
“Then those of us who have heard this shall not say anything to the others. It will be a trust.” Bilbo gave the oldster a small smile.
“My thanks to you,” she murmured.
Time passed, and Ori and Balin were getting the general gist of how hobbit clans worked. Fíli fell asleep on her knee, as he had warned he would. Ori kept sneaking glances at the young prince, and a faint blush seemed to have permanently stained the tops of her cheekbones. Bilbo could see Thorin lurking in the doorway, casting judgemental glances at the poor librarian. She had the feeling he was attempting to be protective, which was ridiculous. Fíli was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Unless - she hadn’t randomly gained his favor just because she happened to be female, that was just patently ridiculous. Gender didn’t matter, the person did. She put the thought out of her mind.
Kíli popped in presently, ruffled Ori’s hair, gave Balin a cheeky little nod, pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s cheek and another to her sleeping brother’s fair head, and then skipped back out. Bilbo giggled. Balin sighed (a sound that seemed to get a lot of practice with the young princes), and Ori patted her hair down in irritation, trying to make sure none of her braids had been disordered.
~
After her kamikaze visit to the library, Kíli wandered about Rivendell for a while. The meal was not far off, by her reckoning, and she’d never seen an elf-city. She walked until she tired of walking, and then sat.
“Are you one of the dwarfs that’s visiting Adar?” A small voice came from behind, startling Kíli where she sat, legs dangling over one of the many platforms of Rivendell. She turned, and saw a small, dark-haired boy. He had to be young, he was scant inches below Kíli’s own height.
“That I am, young master,” she replied, seeing no harm in being courteous to a child. The boy edged to her side, familiar curiosity shining in grey eyes. He nibbled his lip, opened his mouth to speak and, finding no words there, closed it again. She smiled at him, patiently.
“I - I’ve never seen a dwarf before,” the boy admitted shyly, tucking a loose dark curl behind his ear. His rounded ear.
“Why, you’re no elfling-child!” Kíli exclaimed, playfully grabbing the child around the middle. He shrieked with delight, losing all semblance of shyness as she started to tickle him, squirming so much she was half-afraid he’d fall over the edge. She carefully maneuvered him around so her back was facing the edge and the boy inwards, as he finally called for mercy and she relented. He lay still, head in her lap and errant giggles escaping him as she idly fidgeted with his hair, weaving little bits of braids into it, trying to remember her lessons.
“So tell me, young master, what’s your name? I’m called Kíli, myself.”She said, and grey eyes fixed on her brown ones.
“Kíli? That’s a nice name. Mine is Estel. Does your name mean anything?” He asked, scrambling up to sit cross-legged before her. She turned slightly, so that the edge was less at her back and more to her side (much better, it had preyed on her from behind, that drop) as she considered his question thoughtfully.
“The name Kíli is fair meaningless. I chose it for myself, to honor my brother, Fíli.” She replied. Estel’s small face scrunched up in thought. “And you, little Estel? What does your name mean?” She asked, leaning forward and putting her chin in her hand. She idly scratched her whiskers - damn her facial hair for being so slow to grow in. He made a face that startled a laugh from her.
“It’s horrible,” he said sulkily, drawing up his knees and pressing his face to them. “Mama’s always going on and on about how it represents duty and honor and restoring the lost line of kings so I could scream.” Kíli’s smile dropped, and she was quite sure she looked if not shocked, then startled. Estel peered up at her, looking worried. “Have I said something I shouldn’t again? I seem to keep doing that.” He observed dolefully. Kíli shook off the surprise and smiled gently again.
“Nay, little one. You startled me. You see, my uncle, our leader, is a displaced king as well, of the great mountain city of Erebor. Now I never saw the place myself, but I’ve heard grand stories.” She went on to tell one of those tales, learned at the feet of her king and uncle. They ended up tucked into a less windy alcove on the platform together, Estel tucked to her side with her arm about his thin shoulders. When she concluded her story they lapsed into a companionable silence.
“Hope. That’s what my name means.” Estel finally said. Kíli let out a startled bark of laughter. “What?” Estel’s tone was the very description of petulant.
“No, tis nothing. Remember how I told you my name is meaningless?” He nodded slowly against her shoulder. “You must tell no-one this, it is to be our secret Estel. Do you swear to me?” She asked, tipping her head back so she could see his eyes. He nodded solemnly, and there was a simple kind of honesty in them.
“I swear, Kíli, sister-son to Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, I won’t breathe a word.” He swore. She searched his eyes for moments more before nodding and pressing her forehead to the side of his curly head, so she could breathe secrets betwixt them.
“Dwarfs bear two names. One is their kherumelmurkhaz, their shield-name, the outer-name. We use it among those who are not dwarfs. This is what Kíli is. The other is kherumelkurdaz, their heart-name, the inner-name.” Estel nodded slightly. “We only ever give our kherumelkurdaz to those who are close to our hearts, those we marry, our families, our shieldbrethren if they are close to our hearts. You have grown close to my heart, as I feel we may share a Fate. My kherumelkurdaz is Zirkhinhôfukaz, and it means hope.” Estel gasped, and she chuckled.
“So, as one royal hope to another, I wish you only the best, young Estel.”
They sit in friendly silence, and when next Kíli looked over, Estel was soundly sleeping on her shoulder. She smiled, staring vacantly out at the waterfalls, unconsciously humming the song Uncle had written of the heartbreak of that day long ago when her kin were driven from their home. Presently a familiar shape entered her field of vision - Fíli. He’d woken from his nap at the knee of their perhaps-(if they are lucky)-aunt. She smiled sleepily up at him.
“Meal’s soon, Zirkhinhôfukaz,” he whispered, crouching before her.
“Mmm, ‘kay. Help me up, Sanzigilsanrayad,” she commanded in an equally low tone, before gently rousing Estel. He yawned, opened his eyes, and huddled into her at the sight of Fíli.
“Who-” he gasped, but Kíli placed a quelling hand on his shoulder.
“Easy, Estel, this is my brother, Fíli.” Estel blinked big grey eyes up at him, and bobbed his head in acknowledgement.
“Well met, young Estel,” her brother said gravely, placing his hand over his head and dipping his head. Then he chuckled, and ruffled the boy’s hair before grasping each of them by the forearm and hauling them upright. “Will you be joining us at table, little Estel?” He inquired. Estel shook his head.
“No, I think I’ve been gone too long-” A ringing shout of his name echoed down the hallway, and he winced. “In fact I have to go, I’ll see you around?” He asked hopefully, words rushing out and tripping one over the other. They gave him identical grins and nodded simultaneously. “Good! Bye!” He cried, sprinting down the hallway as an identical pair of dark-haired elves rounded the corner and started scolding.
Fíli and Kíli laughed and left, heading down for the afternoon meal.
Rating: T (rating subject to change)
Fandom: Tolkien's Hobbit
Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Bilbo Baggins, more to come
Genre: Romance/Adventure/Humor
Summary Belladonna Baggins, child of Bungo Baggins and Belladonna Took, hadn't much taste for Adventure. More's the pity that Adventure had a taste for Belladonna Baggins A what-if fic.
WARNINGS: Liberal application of gender-swap! As in, always-the-other-gender gender-swap! You have been warned! Eventual explicit scenes, liberal application of fibercrafting, comedy of errors
Almost as soon as breakfast was finished, before Balin departed, a shy-looking Ori approached Bilbo.
“Miss Bilbo! Um you said - when you were braiding my hair-” Ori shot a nervous glance at Balin, but rallied her courage. “When we were discussing... cultural differences. You said you’d tell me more about the history of your families.” She finished, clutching her journal to her chest and trying not to look too hopeful. Balin turned towards them, interest piqued. Bilbo smiled broadly.
“Oh yes! I was going to look in at the libraries, so if you come with me perhaps we can go and discuss it!” She said, warm smile on her face. “Mr. Balin, would you like to accompany us?” Bilbo asked quickly at the intrigued look on the old one’s face. He nodded, a small smile blooming on his mouth. Ori smiled brilliantly. Bilbo noticed over Ori’s shoulder that Fíli was looking slightly awkward, like he wanted to ask something but wasn’t quite sure how. As she and Balin rose to accompany Ori to the library, she beckoned him to her side. She dropped slightly behind Ori and Balin as they walked, to better speak with Fíli in relative privacy.
“What is it that has you lost for words, my lad?” She asked softly. To her surprise he blushed shockingly pink, trained his eyes somewhere in the direction of his toes, and mumbled something she couldn’t understand. She jogged his elbow to get him to look up at her, giving him a quietly reassuring smile. He huffed a little, a tiny, sheepish smile spreading across his cheeks.
“...Would you braid my hair? Like you did for Kíli and Ori.” Fíli asked, at a slightly more audible mumble. Bilbo laughed brightly.
“Of course I will, my lad!” She said brightly, tucking her hand into his elbow. “So long as you don’t mind being bored to death by family trees, that is.” She cautioned. He smiled brightly.
“Might take a nap. I didn’t sleep well last night because someone commandeered my snuggly little brother.” Bilbo chuckled; a bright, airy sound. Fíli smiled a pleased, slightly embarrassed little smile.
Soon enough the tall, lovely elf librarian had shown the courteously charming hobbit and the three mistrustful dwarfs to a secluded corner of the library and provided parchment and ink. Balin and Ori were leaning over a hastily-sketched family tree, while Bilbo happily chattered on quietly, braiding the top layer of Fíli’s hair into a simple enough four-strand rope plait. Each name was followed by two sets of dates, one in the hobbit timekeeping tradition, and the other in the tradition of the greater world. She had had to explain that first to them.
Ori frowned suddenly.
“Miss Bilbo, why are the dates all so close together? None of these hobbits have exceeded one hundred and fifty.” She mentioned. Bilbo frowned, confused.
“Well, one hundred and fifty is the outside of elderly. Most hobbits live to be around one hundred and thirty.” She explained. Balin suddenly looked incredibly old and tired, and Ori incredibly young and vulnerable. She looked at them, concerned.
“Miss Bilbo, it seems we differ here as well. Dwarfs live up to two hundred and fifty years. For children of Durin’s line there have been accounts of those that lived up to four hundred.” Balin told her calmly. Bilbo’s eyes grew round as saucers. “How old are you, Miss Bilbo?” Balin asked gently.
“I’m forty. Everyone says I should be married by now, that if I edge any closer to fifty, no one will want to marry me.” She replied blankly. Balin sighed, passing a hand over his eyes.
“To me, that seems no more than a babe. I have seen two hundred and two years, Ori here - seventy-nine?” Ori nodded quickly. Balin sighed heavily. “If we mention this to anyone - well, they would as like leave you here, with the elves. Would you prefer that?” He asked. Bilbo paused, her eyes tracking to Ori’s wide brown ones, and then down to Fíli’s golden head.
“I... no, I believe I will press on.” She said, hesitant, soft. Unsure. Balin nodded.
“Then those of us who have heard this shall not say anything to the others. It will be a trust.” Bilbo gave the oldster a small smile.
“My thanks to you,” she murmured.
Time passed, and Ori and Balin were getting the general gist of how hobbit clans worked. Fíli fell asleep on her knee, as he had warned he would. Ori kept sneaking glances at the young prince, and a faint blush seemed to have permanently stained the tops of her cheekbones. Bilbo could see Thorin lurking in the doorway, casting judgemental glances at the poor librarian. She had the feeling he was attempting to be protective, which was ridiculous. Fíli was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Unless - she hadn’t randomly gained his favor just because she happened to be female, that was just patently ridiculous. Gender didn’t matter, the person did. She put the thought out of her mind.
Kíli popped in presently, ruffled Ori’s hair, gave Balin a cheeky little nod, pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s cheek and another to her sleeping brother’s fair head, and then skipped back out. Bilbo giggled. Balin sighed (a sound that seemed to get a lot of practice with the young princes), and Ori patted her hair down in irritation, trying to make sure none of her braids had been disordered.
~
After her kamikaze visit to the library, Kíli wandered about Rivendell for a while. The meal was not far off, by her reckoning, and she’d never seen an elf-city. She walked until she tired of walking, and then sat.
“Are you one of the dwarfs that’s visiting Adar?” A small voice came from behind, startling Kíli where she sat, legs dangling over one of the many platforms of Rivendell. She turned, and saw a small, dark-haired boy. He had to be young, he was scant inches below Kíli’s own height.
“That I am, young master,” she replied, seeing no harm in being courteous to a child. The boy edged to her side, familiar curiosity shining in grey eyes. He nibbled his lip, opened his mouth to speak and, finding no words there, closed it again. She smiled at him, patiently.
“I - I’ve never seen a dwarf before,” the boy admitted shyly, tucking a loose dark curl behind his ear. His rounded ear.
“Why, you’re no elfling-child!” Kíli exclaimed, playfully grabbing the child around the middle. He shrieked with delight, losing all semblance of shyness as she started to tickle him, squirming so much she was half-afraid he’d fall over the edge. She carefully maneuvered him around so her back was facing the edge and the boy inwards, as he finally called for mercy and she relented. He lay still, head in her lap and errant giggles escaping him as she idly fidgeted with his hair, weaving little bits of braids into it, trying to remember her lessons.
“So tell me, young master, what’s your name? I’m called Kíli, myself.”She said, and grey eyes fixed on her brown ones.
“Kíli? That’s a nice name. Mine is Estel. Does your name mean anything?” He asked, scrambling up to sit cross-legged before her. She turned slightly, so that the edge was less at her back and more to her side (much better, it had preyed on her from behind, that drop) as she considered his question thoughtfully.
“The name Kíli is fair meaningless. I chose it for myself, to honor my brother, Fíli.” She replied. Estel’s small face scrunched up in thought. “And you, little Estel? What does your name mean?” She asked, leaning forward and putting her chin in her hand. She idly scratched her whiskers - damn her facial hair for being so slow to grow in. He made a face that startled a laugh from her.
“It’s horrible,” he said sulkily, drawing up his knees and pressing his face to them. “Mama’s always going on and on about how it represents duty and honor and restoring the lost line of kings so I could scream.” Kíli’s smile dropped, and she was quite sure she looked if not shocked, then startled. Estel peered up at her, looking worried. “Have I said something I shouldn’t again? I seem to keep doing that.” He observed dolefully. Kíli shook off the surprise and smiled gently again.
“Nay, little one. You startled me. You see, my uncle, our leader, is a displaced king as well, of the great mountain city of Erebor. Now I never saw the place myself, but I’ve heard grand stories.” She went on to tell one of those tales, learned at the feet of her king and uncle. They ended up tucked into a less windy alcove on the platform together, Estel tucked to her side with her arm about his thin shoulders. When she concluded her story they lapsed into a companionable silence.
“Hope. That’s what my name means.” Estel finally said. Kíli let out a startled bark of laughter. “What?” Estel’s tone was the very description of petulant.
“No, tis nothing. Remember how I told you my name is meaningless?” He nodded slowly against her shoulder. “You must tell no-one this, it is to be our secret Estel. Do you swear to me?” She asked, tipping her head back so she could see his eyes. He nodded solemnly, and there was a simple kind of honesty in them.
“I swear, Kíli, sister-son to Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, I won’t breathe a word.” He swore. She searched his eyes for moments more before nodding and pressing her forehead to the side of his curly head, so she could breathe secrets betwixt them.
“Dwarfs bear two names. One is their kherumelmurkhaz, their shield-name, the outer-name. We use it among those who are not dwarfs. This is what Kíli is. The other is kherumelkurdaz, their heart-name, the inner-name.” Estel nodded slightly. “We only ever give our kherumelkurdaz to those who are close to our hearts, those we marry, our families, our shieldbrethren if they are close to our hearts. You have grown close to my heart, as I feel we may share a Fate. My kherumelkurdaz is Zirkhinhôfukaz, and it means hope.” Estel gasped, and she chuckled.
“So, as one royal hope to another, I wish you only the best, young Estel.”
They sit in friendly silence, and when next Kíli looked over, Estel was soundly sleeping on her shoulder. She smiled, staring vacantly out at the waterfalls, unconsciously humming the song Uncle had written of the heartbreak of that day long ago when her kin were driven from their home. Presently a familiar shape entered her field of vision - Fíli. He’d woken from his nap at the knee of their perhaps-(if they are lucky)-aunt. She smiled sleepily up at him.
“Meal’s soon, Zirkhinhôfukaz,” he whispered, crouching before her.
“Mmm, ‘kay. Help me up, Sanzigilsanrayad,” she commanded in an equally low tone, before gently rousing Estel. He yawned, opened his eyes, and huddled into her at the sight of Fíli.
“Who-” he gasped, but Kíli placed a quelling hand on his shoulder.
“Easy, Estel, this is my brother, Fíli.” Estel blinked big grey eyes up at him, and bobbed his head in acknowledgement.
“Well met, young Estel,” her brother said gravely, placing his hand over his head and dipping his head. Then he chuckled, and ruffled the boy’s hair before grasping each of them by the forearm and hauling them upright. “Will you be joining us at table, little Estel?” He inquired. Estel shook his head.
“No, I think I’ve been gone too long-” A ringing shout of his name echoed down the hallway, and he winced. “In fact I have to go, I’ll see you around?” He asked hopefully, words rushing out and tripping one over the other. They gave him identical grins and nodded simultaneously. “Good! Bye!” He cried, sprinting down the hallway as an identical pair of dark-haired elves rounded the corner and started scolding.
Fíli and Kíli laughed and left, heading down for the afternoon meal.