Strangers at the Door
Title: Strangers at the Door
Pairings: minor Lobelia/Otho
Word Count: 1870
Disclaimer: If I owned the hobbit no one would die
Summary: Gandalf forgot to remove the mark on Bilbo's door.
Lobelia Sackville-Baggins was feeling quite pleased with herself. It had taken ten long months of legal wrangling after her cousin Bilbo had run out of his door, but she had finally wrested the ownership of Bag End into her hands.
I don't know why they made it so difficult. I mean, yes our laws say that you have to wait a year before declaring someone dead, but Bilbo ran off on an adventure. It was obvious that he'd finally cracked like I always knew he would, that Took blood of his and all.
But dismissing thoughts of her wayward cousin, Lobelia surveyed her handiwork in satisfaction. After she'd gained ownership of the smial for her family it had taken another month of work to make the place liveable again. Bilbo had left it in a terrible state: mud in the carpet, no food in the pantry and something unspeakable stuck in the pipes, but now it was finally ready. Now she and Otho could finally move into the hobbit hole that they had always deserved and their son would grow up as befit his proper station.
The one damper on her enthusiasm was the strange glowing mark drawn on the front door since nothing she had attempted had washed it off, but that was a small price to pay to be Mistress of Bag End. Besides, as soon as Otho returned she would simply have him paint it over, for green was such a common color anyway.
Otho was away, traveling with the cart carrying their belongings up from the house in Southfarthing. Her son Lotho would stay there as well until the hole could be sold since she was hardly going to hire a stranger to do these things and give them the chance to rob her family blind. But yes, Lobelia thought looking around her new domain, Life is good.
Then the doorbell rang.
Who could that be? Lobelia asked herself as she went to answer the door, for it was too early in the day for any sort of respectable caller. Maybe the neighbors, but it's barely past second-breakfast. I hope this isn't how they normally do things here.
Yet when she opened the door it wasn't a hobbit at all. Instead Lobelia saw a scruffy human pedlar standing on her steps, a pack over his shoulder and a donkey by the gate.
"I'm sorry, are you lost?" She asked, for really, why else would he be there?
But at her words he just smiled and gave a little bow. "No, madam. I was simply wondering if you'd be interested in purchasing this fine set of 'hair pins,' perfect for a master of the craft such as yourself. Or if you already have a set that you prefer, perhaps a small flask of oil, good for quieting those difficult hinges."
The pedlar pulled out a small flask and a wrapped bundle of leather, which he unrolled to show off a series of finely shaped metal rods covered with various odd protrusions. When she saw them, Lobelia was incensed.
"You call those hairpins! What do you take me for? Those are the ugliest hairpins that I've ever seen, and my hinges are fine thank you very much. Leave, you charlatan, before I go get my broom!"
At her anger the man bowed and retreated quickly back down the path, grabbing his donkey and striding away. The hobbitess thought that he muttered something about false advertising as she went, but she couldn't imagine why so she just put the odd encounter from her mind.
---
Until, on Thursday, someone pounded heavily against the door, and this time when she opened it there was a dwarf instead. He was large and battle-worn, with a thick beard and a naked axe drawn in his hand. Upon seeing him, Lobelia squeaked in terror and tried to slam the door but he shoved it back open with his fist.
"You the burglar?" He asked gruffly, and at these words her indignation overran her fear.
"Burglar! I beg your pardon. I am a respectable hobbit I'll have you know and you wouldn't find any such scum as that here. How dare you insinuate such things?"
The dwarf seemed confused, looking at the door and then back at her. "Are you sure? I could use the services of a burglar." He hefted the weapon in his hand. "There's a man who needs to be introduced to my axe and there's a few too many locked door between me and my winnings." At Lobelia's shocked stare he added, "I'd pay well for the privilege, you have my word."
"No! No! No! Now get off of my porch!" She snapped, this time successfully slamming the door shut in his face. Lobelia went to the window to watch him walk away and when he was finally gone she collapsed against the wall. Calm, Lobelia, calm. No need to freak out and set the neighbors talking. I'm sure all these weirdos are just lost, very, very, lost.
---
But on the next evening the bell rang again, and when she tentatively opened the door there was yet another dwarf standing before her. This one was younger at least, and polite, for he greeted her with a cheerful smile and a bow.
"Dwifer, madam. At your service. I saw your sign and wondered if perhaps you'd be interested in purchasing the sort of baubles a light-fingered fellow such as myself might have come across."
He pulled a handful of rings from beneath his cloak and spread them for her perusal. Lobelia looked at them in interest for she was never one to pass up a bargain, but then had to shake her head.
"Sorry. I'm afraid you have nothing there that I want tonight. Though if you come across any cufflinks you may have a deal, I do need a gift for my husband."
"I will keep that in mind then. Should I find any you'll be the first to know." Dwifer tipped his hat and walked back down the path. As the dwarf reached the gate, Lobelia remembered something that seemed odd and called out.
"Wait! What did you mean about a sign?"
"Why the mark on your door, madam. That's a dwarven rune there, means nefarious business to be found." And then he was gone, leaving Lobelia aghast.
Nefarious business. Why I never! No wonder these weirdos keep coming by. She quickly ran inside and grabbed a sheet of paper which she used to cover up the mark so it was blocked from sight. Tacky, but it will do until Otho arrives, Lobelia thought and then went to bed well satisfied.
But in the morning, the mark had burned through all the paper and shone brightly in the light.
And on Sunday, when Otho finally arrived and tried to paint over it, it simply was no use. Every coat of paint seemed to make the mark glow stronger, and after the fourth it could be seen from the next hill away. Eventually Lobelia told him to stop wasting paint and that they'd just have to make the best of it instead.
A few odd visitors was worth Bag End, she had fought too long and too hard to be put off by a small setback like this. Lobelia was determined to hold out and she held onto this conviction tightly every time she answered the door to find yet another weird stranger on the steps.
---
On Tuesday she met another pair of dwarves, leaning on each other and smashed out of their minds. They wanted to hire her to retrieve some family heirlooms that they claimed to have misplaced in a loaded game of dice.
On Wednesday it was a ranger, tall and worn and brown, who asked if Lobelia was looking for adventure. An adventure! As though I were as mad as old Bilbo! she thought and she soon put him straight. He hurried away from the hobbit hole with shame on his face and his tail tucked between his legs.
Thursday, Dwifer returned with some fine sets of cufflinks, including some fit for the Thain himself. Indeed, Lobelia thought she recognized a pair from the old hobbit's 87th birthday and used the knowledge to bargain the dwarf down for all that he was worth. There was new respect in his eyes when he left Bag End that night and with her new purchase burning a hole in her pocket, Lobelia thought, Maybe that sign's not so bad at all.
But while no one arrived to pester her on Friday, whispers followed her through the market that day and Laci Bracegirdle dared to laugh as Lobelia walked by. Laci, who was the shame of her mother for leading on two fine hobbits at once before running away with a third, followed the laugh with a mutter just in earshot:
"Look at her, the high and mighty Mistress of Bag End. I wonder what else she's mistress of with the way she's entertaining strangers at all hours of the day."
Lobelia silenced the fool child with a glare, then she turned and stalked furiously back home. I bet Bilbo did this on purpose, left that mark there just to torture me with the ruin of my hard-won reputation. Try to run me out will he? Well I'll show him, I'm not giving in to his conniving little tricks.
She held out for two more weeks through five pedlars, three job offers, another return visit from Dwifer and a very drunk Bryce Proudfoot proclaiming his everlasting love. Though to be fair, the poor boy kept singing about Mabel so the hobbit was probably just lost after all.
---
However, the very last straw occurred when sweet little Juni Brandybuck came over for tea and tried to walk out with all of Lobelia's best spoons in her pockets.
"Just what do you think you are doing?" Lobelia asked icily, hand tight around the young hobbitess' arm, but Juni just smiled brightly.
"Oh, this is fantastic, you caught me after all. Will you be my teacher then?"
"Teacher? Teacher of what?"
"Why burglary of course. Everyone says that you're the one to come to for things like that these days."
"Everyone?" Lobelia asked faintly, feeling her knees get weak.
"Oh yes, you're becoming quite admired by my Took cousins. Doing something so daring and at your age."
At these words, Lobelia's knees finally failed her and she felt the darkness take her down. When she woke Otho was leaning over her worriedly, asking what had happened and if she was okay. Lobelia just shook off his hands and stood shakily.
"Pack up everything we can transport and start selling the rest. We're going home!" She snapped.
"What, but dear, you love this place. It's what you've always wanted."
"Yes, Bag End is what I always wanted, a house as grand as me, and I can deal with the strange dwarves and men and shifty pedlars. I can even deal with the gossiping by other jealous folks. But we are going home to Southfarthing because I will sleep in a pigsty before I allow myself to be admired by Tooks."
End
Pairings: minor Lobelia/Otho
Word Count: 1870
Disclaimer: If I owned the hobbit no one would die
Summary: Gandalf forgot to remove the mark on Bilbo's door.
Lobelia Sackville-Baggins was feeling quite pleased with herself. It had taken ten long months of legal wrangling after her cousin Bilbo had run out of his door, but she had finally wrested the ownership of Bag End into her hands.
I don't know why they made it so difficult. I mean, yes our laws say that you have to wait a year before declaring someone dead, but Bilbo ran off on an adventure. It was obvious that he'd finally cracked like I always knew he would, that Took blood of his and all.
But dismissing thoughts of her wayward cousin, Lobelia surveyed her handiwork in satisfaction. After she'd gained ownership of the smial for her family it had taken another month of work to make the place liveable again. Bilbo had left it in a terrible state: mud in the carpet, no food in the pantry and something unspeakable stuck in the pipes, but now it was finally ready. Now she and Otho could finally move into the hobbit hole that they had always deserved and their son would grow up as befit his proper station.
The one damper on her enthusiasm was the strange glowing mark drawn on the front door since nothing she had attempted had washed it off, but that was a small price to pay to be Mistress of Bag End. Besides, as soon as Otho returned she would simply have him paint it over, for green was such a common color anyway.
Otho was away, traveling with the cart carrying their belongings up from the house in Southfarthing. Her son Lotho would stay there as well until the hole could be sold since she was hardly going to hire a stranger to do these things and give them the chance to rob her family blind. But yes, Lobelia thought looking around her new domain, Life is good.
Then the doorbell rang.
Who could that be? Lobelia asked herself as she went to answer the door, for it was too early in the day for any sort of respectable caller. Maybe the neighbors, but it's barely past second-breakfast. I hope this isn't how they normally do things here.
Yet when she opened the door it wasn't a hobbit at all. Instead Lobelia saw a scruffy human pedlar standing on her steps, a pack over his shoulder and a donkey by the gate.
"I'm sorry, are you lost?" She asked, for really, why else would he be there?
But at her words he just smiled and gave a little bow. "No, madam. I was simply wondering if you'd be interested in purchasing this fine set of 'hair pins,' perfect for a master of the craft such as yourself. Or if you already have a set that you prefer, perhaps a small flask of oil, good for quieting those difficult hinges."
The pedlar pulled out a small flask and a wrapped bundle of leather, which he unrolled to show off a series of finely shaped metal rods covered with various odd protrusions. When she saw them, Lobelia was incensed.
"You call those hairpins! What do you take me for? Those are the ugliest hairpins that I've ever seen, and my hinges are fine thank you very much. Leave, you charlatan, before I go get my broom!"
At her anger the man bowed and retreated quickly back down the path, grabbing his donkey and striding away. The hobbitess thought that he muttered something about false advertising as she went, but she couldn't imagine why so she just put the odd encounter from her mind.
---
Until, on Thursday, someone pounded heavily against the door, and this time when she opened it there was a dwarf instead. He was large and battle-worn, with a thick beard and a naked axe drawn in his hand. Upon seeing him, Lobelia squeaked in terror and tried to slam the door but he shoved it back open with his fist.
"You the burglar?" He asked gruffly, and at these words her indignation overran her fear.
"Burglar! I beg your pardon. I am a respectable hobbit I'll have you know and you wouldn't find any such scum as that here. How dare you insinuate such things?"
The dwarf seemed confused, looking at the door and then back at her. "Are you sure? I could use the services of a burglar." He hefted the weapon in his hand. "There's a man who needs to be introduced to my axe and there's a few too many locked door between me and my winnings." At Lobelia's shocked stare he added, "I'd pay well for the privilege, you have my word."
"No! No! No! Now get off of my porch!" She snapped, this time successfully slamming the door shut in his face. Lobelia went to the window to watch him walk away and when he was finally gone she collapsed against the wall. Calm, Lobelia, calm. No need to freak out and set the neighbors talking. I'm sure all these weirdos are just lost, very, very, lost.
---
But on the next evening the bell rang again, and when she tentatively opened the door there was yet another dwarf standing before her. This one was younger at least, and polite, for he greeted her with a cheerful smile and a bow.
"Dwifer, madam. At your service. I saw your sign and wondered if perhaps you'd be interested in purchasing the sort of baubles a light-fingered fellow such as myself might have come across."
He pulled a handful of rings from beneath his cloak and spread them for her perusal. Lobelia looked at them in interest for she was never one to pass up a bargain, but then had to shake her head.
"Sorry. I'm afraid you have nothing there that I want tonight. Though if you come across any cufflinks you may have a deal, I do need a gift for my husband."
"I will keep that in mind then. Should I find any you'll be the first to know." Dwifer tipped his hat and walked back down the path. As the dwarf reached the gate, Lobelia remembered something that seemed odd and called out.
"Wait! What did you mean about a sign?"
"Why the mark on your door, madam. That's a dwarven rune there, means nefarious business to be found." And then he was gone, leaving Lobelia aghast.
Nefarious business. Why I never! No wonder these weirdos keep coming by. She quickly ran inside and grabbed a sheet of paper which she used to cover up the mark so it was blocked from sight. Tacky, but it will do until Otho arrives, Lobelia thought and then went to bed well satisfied.
But in the morning, the mark had burned through all the paper and shone brightly in the light.
And on Sunday, when Otho finally arrived and tried to paint over it, it simply was no use. Every coat of paint seemed to make the mark glow stronger, and after the fourth it could be seen from the next hill away. Eventually Lobelia told him to stop wasting paint and that they'd just have to make the best of it instead.
A few odd visitors was worth Bag End, she had fought too long and too hard to be put off by a small setback like this. Lobelia was determined to hold out and she held onto this conviction tightly every time she answered the door to find yet another weird stranger on the steps.
---
On Tuesday she met another pair of dwarves, leaning on each other and smashed out of their minds. They wanted to hire her to retrieve some family heirlooms that they claimed to have misplaced in a loaded game of dice.
On Wednesday it was a ranger, tall and worn and brown, who asked if Lobelia was looking for adventure. An adventure! As though I were as mad as old Bilbo! she thought and she soon put him straight. He hurried away from the hobbit hole with shame on his face and his tail tucked between his legs.
Thursday, Dwifer returned with some fine sets of cufflinks, including some fit for the Thain himself. Indeed, Lobelia thought she recognized a pair from the old hobbit's 87th birthday and used the knowledge to bargain the dwarf down for all that he was worth. There was new respect in his eyes when he left Bag End that night and with her new purchase burning a hole in her pocket, Lobelia thought, Maybe that sign's not so bad at all.
But while no one arrived to pester her on Friday, whispers followed her through the market that day and Laci Bracegirdle dared to laugh as Lobelia walked by. Laci, who was the shame of her mother for leading on two fine hobbits at once before running away with a third, followed the laugh with a mutter just in earshot:
"Look at her, the high and mighty Mistress of Bag End. I wonder what else she's mistress of with the way she's entertaining strangers at all hours of the day."
Lobelia silenced the fool child with a glare, then she turned and stalked furiously back home. I bet Bilbo did this on purpose, left that mark there just to torture me with the ruin of my hard-won reputation. Try to run me out will he? Well I'll show him, I'm not giving in to his conniving little tricks.
She held out for two more weeks through five pedlars, three job offers, another return visit from Dwifer and a very drunk Bryce Proudfoot proclaiming his everlasting love. Though to be fair, the poor boy kept singing about Mabel so the hobbit was probably just lost after all.
---
However, the very last straw occurred when sweet little Juni Brandybuck came over for tea and tried to walk out with all of Lobelia's best spoons in her pockets.
"Just what do you think you are doing?" Lobelia asked icily, hand tight around the young hobbitess' arm, but Juni just smiled brightly.
"Oh, this is fantastic, you caught me after all. Will you be my teacher then?"
"Teacher? Teacher of what?"
"Why burglary of course. Everyone says that you're the one to come to for things like that these days."
"Everyone?" Lobelia asked faintly, feeling her knees get weak.
"Oh yes, you're becoming quite admired by my Took cousins. Doing something so daring and at your age."
At these words, Lobelia's knees finally failed her and she felt the darkness take her down. When she woke Otho was leaning over her worriedly, asking what had happened and if she was okay. Lobelia just shook off his hands and stood shakily.
"Pack up everything we can transport and start selling the rest. We're going home!" She snapped.
"What, but dear, you love this place. It's what you've always wanted."
"Yes, Bag End is what I always wanted, a house as grand as me, and I can deal with the strange dwarves and men and shifty pedlars. I can even deal with the gossiping by other jealous folks. But we are going home to Southfarthing because I will sleep in a pigsty before I allow myself to be admired by Tooks."
End