Much Ado About Nothing: Chapter 5
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
Bilbo hesitated before entering the feasting-hall. She really wasn’t actually all that sure how the dwarfs would react to seeing her without her affected nature. Cellin had left after helping her with her hair and clothes, telling her that she would be in the hall for moral support. Bilbo thought privately that part of her decision had also been because she had wanted to see the dwarfs’ faces, but she did not begrudge the elf’s maiden’s mischievousness.
Bilbo drew in a deep breath and, heart pounding like a rabbit’s, entered. The disgruntled murmuring of the dwarfs ceased immediately, leaving the elvish music ringing loudly in the airy space, as Bilbo trotted carefully to the seat that had been retained for her between Balin on her left and Kíli to her right, head held high. She refused to actually look at the dwarfs, or indeed at Gandalf; stealing a glance towards Cellin, who smiled with her eyes as her flute trilled a beautiful, dizzying descant above the low sweet sounds of the harp. Bilbo got the feeling that Cellin was trying to bolster her courage or cheer her on.
She settled herself into her chair, carefully arranging her dark steel-blue skirt like her mother had taught her, in order to avoid wrinkling. Then and only then did she turn to Kíli.
“Pass the butter lettuce and spinach, would you, Kíli?” She asked, consciously dropping the lower register she affected to speak with her more natural, slightly higher, low alto. Kíli was staring at her rather blankly, a strange mix of emotion buried deep in his dark eyes. Something like regret and longing, and Bilbo felt slightly startled at its intensity. “Kíli, are you quite well?” He started slightly and nodded mutely, casting about for the requested greens.
“What are they?” Kíli asked tentatively, voice oddly husky. Bilbo smiled indulgently, pointing them out for the young dwarf. Bilbo quickly prepared a salad, adding nuts, bilberries and sweet vinegar before crossing her arms and surveying the table with a stern look she’d inherited from her mother.
“Out with it, then.” She said crossly. “I can’t eat with everyone staring at me as if I’ve grown a second head.” She knew exactly why they were staring, and wanted to get the whole business out of the way so she could eat in peace. She hadn’t even been taking all the precautions that she would have at home, how had they not guessed that she was actually female?
“...Is this a strange custom of hobbits?” One of them ventured. Bilbo imagined that the sudden sweet trill of Cellin’s flute was like a giggle at that moment. Bilbo’s brow furrowed into a puzzled frown, and Ori of all dwarfs, hurried to clarify.
“He means, is it a custom for male hobbits to dress as females?” The poor boy was flushed bright red and having difficulty meeting her eyes, though there was a strange half-excited expression in his eyes. A giggle managed to bubble out of Bilbo’s throat, but she quickly coughed it away.
“I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to, but I will inform you that a boy-hobbit dressing as a girl-hobbit is quite unheard-of. Girl-hobbits dressing as boy-hobbits is equally unheard-of.” She paused, looking towards Gandalf, who seemed to be quietly choking on pipe-smoke. “Unheard-of, perhaps, but not nonexistent.” Gandalf gave a great laugh then, eyes twinkling at her, and she felt more secure.
“Well, I have always said that hobbits are full of surprises. Tell me then, dear lass. What’s your name, if I may? It cannot actually be Bilbo.” Gandalf asked, leaning forward in interest. Several shocked looks were directed to him from the dwarfs, though Bilbo did not really know why. He’d only asked for her name, a perfectly reasonable request.
“My father named me Belladonna, much to my mother’s protest. She called me her Bellbo, which I could not say as a child, therefore it became Bilbo.”
Now all the dwarfs looked quite startled, as if she had done something she wasn’t supposed to have done. She returned their surprise with a look of mild confusion. Balin’s face had taken on a thundery countenance. Bilbo risked a glance further up the table to where Thorin sat, and he was carefully not looking at her, glaring at Gandalf as well. She glanced beseechingly at Kíli, who was staring industriously at the table twiddling his thumbs. The boy looked up briefly, caught her eye and subtly shook his head. Bilbo huffed. Balin stood from his chair, outright glaring at Gandalf now.
“Gandalf, how dare you coerce this young-” here he faltered briefly, visibly. “Young hobbit into giving up h-er name to you?” He had paused again, adding a funny hiccup to the gender identifier. All the dwarfs were angrily nodding. Bilbo reached up and rested a hand lightly on Balin’s arm, attempting to get him to calm down.
“Here now, Balin. All’s well. There’s no secret to names, the only reason I don’t use it is because I find it more convenient to appear male.” She said. Now all the dwarfs looked rather confounded, but stopped glaring, at least. Balin sat down, turning a puzzled look to her. She smiled back easily. “So, shall we return to eating, then?” She asked, pulling her plate back towards her. Everyone slowly did so, though several kept shooting her very puzzled glances, and Ori in particular was acting as if he was sitting on a hot coal.
(There was also a very amusing argument between Dori and Ori, wherein Ori declared quite vehemently that he didn’t like green food. Bilbo sent a plate with a variety of fruits and nuts on it further down the table by way of Kíli and Nori, which Ori set to quite happily.)
Bilbo mostly watched. The dwarfs were clearly uncomfortable in the setting, and Dwalin kept mumbling mutinously about the lack of meat. Bifur seemed completely oblivious to everything, including everything that had happened earlier. He was happily chewing away at some pale golden flowers - were those honeysuckle? Good choice. She passed him a dish of lightly sauteed squash blossoms, and he presumably thanked her, though really it kind of sounded like he was rolling a mouthful of rocks around. She smiled anyway.
“Quite welcome. Those are quite tasty. A little spicy.” She told him, leaning forward. Bifur nodded solemnly, speared a flower on his fork, and turned to offer it to Bofur.
She saw Cellin moving around the table, dipping towards Óin, playing sweetly. Bilbo noticed that Óin seemed the least pleased about the music. The old dwarf looked disgruntled and stuffed his napkin into his ear-trumpet. Bilbo giggled, catching Cellin’s eye, which was twinkling bright with mischief.
Everything had gone so much better than she was dreading! Bilbo felt much more at ease now.
~
Thorin was becoming increasingly uneasy.
First their burglar was apparently a female - what had Gandalf been thinking - except that wasn’t quite fair, as Gandalf had apparently not known either.
Then Gandalf had had the gall to ask for the hobbit’s name. In mixed company! (Thorin eyed the flute-playing elf suspiciously. She and the hobbit seemed to have some sort of rapport, which Thorin didn’t like for more than one reason.) More than just Gandalf’s nerve, the little hobbit had answered! And then told Balin some nonsense about names not being secret. Thorin was going to have to send Kíli to her to have a talk about the sanctity of names.
Although.
Belladonna. It suited her, as pretty as she was currently turned out. Pretty hiding a deadliness he’d only briefly glimpsed, quick wit when apparently concussed. Thorin frowned, letting himself really look. The softness he’s mistaken for comfort was now resolved to a very different picture. A small bust accentuated by that damnable bodice down to a gentle waist swelling out to generous hips.
Mahal’s blessings, she was even wearing his colors. Her skirts were steel-blue, with a hint of rather provocative white lace peeking out the bottom. The straight, square-cut bodice was also steel blue, inset with a pale rosy panel. Her blouse was also square-cut suggesting the tiniest hint of the pale, rosy flesh beneath, pale grey with a slightly ruffled neckline, sleeves gathered at the elbows.
Thorin jerked himself firmly out of those thoughts, retraining his eye to her face. What had been a rather plump male face was now a pleasingly rosy-cheeked female face. Bronze curls had been swept up, braided into a crown on the back of her skull in a distinctly elvish manner that made him rankle. It was threaded through with tiny pink flowers in a way that ought to have been quite comely, had the elvish braids not marred the image so distractingly. His eyes trailed down, and he finally averted his gaze to his plate when she turned towards Kíli and he saw the pale, delicate, rosy skin of her neck. He refused to look at the hobbit for the rest of the 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
Bilbo hesitated before entering the feasting-hall. She really wasn’t actually all that sure how the dwarfs would react to seeing her without her affected nature. Cellin had left after helping her with her hair and clothes, telling her that she would be in the hall for moral support. Bilbo thought privately that part of her decision had also been because she had wanted to see the dwarfs’ faces, but she did not begrudge the elf’s maiden’s mischievousness.
Bilbo drew in a deep breath and, heart pounding like a rabbit’s, entered. The disgruntled murmuring of the dwarfs ceased immediately, leaving the elvish music ringing loudly in the airy space, as Bilbo trotted carefully to the seat that had been retained for her between Balin on her left and Kíli to her right, head held high. She refused to actually look at the dwarfs, or indeed at Gandalf; stealing a glance towards Cellin, who smiled with her eyes as her flute trilled a beautiful, dizzying descant above the low sweet sounds of the harp. Bilbo got the feeling that Cellin was trying to bolster her courage or cheer her on.
She settled herself into her chair, carefully arranging her dark steel-blue skirt like her mother had taught her, in order to avoid wrinkling. Then and only then did she turn to Kíli.
“Pass the butter lettuce and spinach, would you, Kíli?” She asked, consciously dropping the lower register she affected to speak with her more natural, slightly higher, low alto. Kíli was staring at her rather blankly, a strange mix of emotion buried deep in his dark eyes. Something like regret and longing, and Bilbo felt slightly startled at its intensity. “Kíli, are you quite well?” He started slightly and nodded mutely, casting about for the requested greens.
“What are they?” Kíli asked tentatively, voice oddly husky. Bilbo smiled indulgently, pointing them out for the young dwarf. Bilbo quickly prepared a salad, adding nuts, bilberries and sweet vinegar before crossing her arms and surveying the table with a stern look she’d inherited from her mother.
“Out with it, then.” She said crossly. “I can’t eat with everyone staring at me as if I’ve grown a second head.” She knew exactly why they were staring, and wanted to get the whole business out of the way so she could eat in peace. She hadn’t even been taking all the precautions that she would have at home, how had they not guessed that she was actually female?
“...Is this a strange custom of hobbits?” One of them ventured. Bilbo imagined that the sudden sweet trill of Cellin’s flute was like a giggle at that moment. Bilbo’s brow furrowed into a puzzled frown, and Ori of all dwarfs, hurried to clarify.
“He means, is it a custom for male hobbits to dress as females?” The poor boy was flushed bright red and having difficulty meeting her eyes, though there was a strange half-excited expression in his eyes. A giggle managed to bubble out of Bilbo’s throat, but she quickly coughed it away.
“I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to, but I will inform you that a boy-hobbit dressing as a girl-hobbit is quite unheard-of. Girl-hobbits dressing as boy-hobbits is equally unheard-of.” She paused, looking towards Gandalf, who seemed to be quietly choking on pipe-smoke. “Unheard-of, perhaps, but not nonexistent.” Gandalf gave a great laugh then, eyes twinkling at her, and she felt more secure.
“Well, I have always said that hobbits are full of surprises. Tell me then, dear lass. What’s your name, if I may? It cannot actually be Bilbo.” Gandalf asked, leaning forward in interest. Several shocked looks were directed to him from the dwarfs, though Bilbo did not really know why. He’d only asked for her name, a perfectly reasonable request.
“My father named me Belladonna, much to my mother’s protest. She called me her Bellbo, which I could not say as a child, therefore it became Bilbo.”
Now all the dwarfs looked quite startled, as if she had done something she wasn’t supposed to have done. She returned their surprise with a look of mild confusion. Balin’s face had taken on a thundery countenance. Bilbo risked a glance further up the table to where Thorin sat, and he was carefully not looking at her, glaring at Gandalf as well. She glanced beseechingly at Kíli, who was staring industriously at the table twiddling his thumbs. The boy looked up briefly, caught her eye and subtly shook his head. Bilbo huffed. Balin stood from his chair, outright glaring at Gandalf now.
“Gandalf, how dare you coerce this young-” here he faltered briefly, visibly. “Young hobbit into giving up h-er name to you?” He had paused again, adding a funny hiccup to the gender identifier. All the dwarfs were angrily nodding. Bilbo reached up and rested a hand lightly on Balin’s arm, attempting to get him to calm down.
“Here now, Balin. All’s well. There’s no secret to names, the only reason I don’t use it is because I find it more convenient to appear male.” She said. Now all the dwarfs looked rather confounded, but stopped glaring, at least. Balin sat down, turning a puzzled look to her. She smiled back easily. “So, shall we return to eating, then?” She asked, pulling her plate back towards her. Everyone slowly did so, though several kept shooting her very puzzled glances, and Ori in particular was acting as if he was sitting on a hot coal.
(There was also a very amusing argument between Dori and Ori, wherein Ori declared quite vehemently that he didn’t like green food. Bilbo sent a plate with a variety of fruits and nuts on it further down the table by way of Kíli and Nori, which Ori set to quite happily.)
Bilbo mostly watched. The dwarfs were clearly uncomfortable in the setting, and Dwalin kept mumbling mutinously about the lack of meat. Bifur seemed completely oblivious to everything, including everything that had happened earlier. He was happily chewing away at some pale golden flowers - were those honeysuckle? Good choice. She passed him a dish of lightly sauteed squash blossoms, and he presumably thanked her, though really it kind of sounded like he was rolling a mouthful of rocks around. She smiled anyway.
“Quite welcome. Those are quite tasty. A little spicy.” She told him, leaning forward. Bifur nodded solemnly, speared a flower on his fork, and turned to offer it to Bofur.
She saw Cellin moving around the table, dipping towards Óin, playing sweetly. Bilbo noticed that Óin seemed the least pleased about the music. The old dwarf looked disgruntled and stuffed his napkin into his ear-trumpet. Bilbo giggled, catching Cellin’s eye, which was twinkling bright with mischief.
Everything had gone so much better than she was dreading! Bilbo felt much more at ease now.
~
Thorin was becoming increasingly uneasy.
First their burglar was apparently a female - what had Gandalf been thinking - except that wasn’t quite fair, as Gandalf had apparently not known either.
Then Gandalf had had the gall to ask for the hobbit’s name. In mixed company! (Thorin eyed the flute-playing elf suspiciously. She and the hobbit seemed to have some sort of rapport, which Thorin didn’t like for more than one reason.) More than just Gandalf’s nerve, the little hobbit had answered! And then told Balin some nonsense about names not being secret. Thorin was going to have to send Kíli to her to have a talk about the sanctity of names.
Although.
Belladonna. It suited her, as pretty as she was currently turned out. Pretty hiding a deadliness he’d only briefly glimpsed, quick wit when apparently concussed. Thorin frowned, letting himself really look. The softness he’s mistaken for comfort was now resolved to a very different picture. A small bust accentuated by that damnable bodice down to a gentle waist swelling out to generous hips.
Mahal’s blessings, she was even wearing his colors. Her skirts were steel-blue, with a hint of rather provocative white lace peeking out the bottom. The straight, square-cut bodice was also steel blue, inset with a pale rosy panel. Her blouse was also square-cut suggesting the tiniest hint of the pale, rosy flesh beneath, pale grey with a slightly ruffled neckline, sleeves gathered at the elbows.
Thorin jerked himself firmly out of those thoughts, retraining his eye to her face. What had been a rather plump male face was now a pleasingly rosy-cheeked female face. Bronze curls had been swept up, braided into a crown on the back of her skull in a distinctly elvish manner that made him rankle. It was threaded through with tiny pink flowers in a way that ought to have been quite comely, had the elvish braids not marred the image so distractingly. His eyes trailed down, and he finally averted his gaze to his plate when she turned towards Kíli and he saw the pale, delicate, rosy skin of her neck. He refused to look at the hobbit for the rest of the meal.