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To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 25

Get a load of my dumbass taking almost a year to update.

Summary: When two girls fell into Middle Earth, excited at the prospects of living through their all time favourite novel, they find things are not as they seem. Something is watching them, as if they're being dared to reveal their secrets. How will they survive the challenges of the journey, dealing with the darkness that follows them, alongside certain two princes who are fascinated at everything they do, and a brooding, grumpy king who begins to suspect that they aren't telling the whole truth.

Where were they from, really? They did take the rabbit hole down, after all.

Tags: Kili x oc/reader - Fili x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 7671

Warnings: Swearing.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

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Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

Part 3: Chapter 25 -

I’d much rather be out in the woods looking for tall sticks.

Eutony (Definition): The pleasantness of a word’s sound.

(Noun / Origin: Greek / yoo·ton·ee)

Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. Tuesday, 26th April 2941 of the Third Age (Trewsday, 6th Thrimidge, 1341 in Shire-reckoning)

Despite having frozen with nerves, I had almost burst out laughing at the face Bilbo pulled when the chime of the doorbell echoed through the hallways of the house. His smile becoming a flat line as his brows dropped his eyes into a shadowy glare - an all too familiar sight to someone who had excessively spent the last ten years watching the movies, and actually spent almost over a year and a half living with the guy.

Glancing over at Kay, I confirmed that she had also frozen, if the smear of ink and the snapped quill in her hand was anything to go by. She flitted her eyes over to me, the ink covered feather dropping from her fingers as she twisted in her chair, copper waves falling over her shoulder as she stared with vigorous intent through the doorway.

“Who on Earth considers now an appropriate time to come knocking??” Bilbo hissed, practically throwing down his cutlery and ripping the napkin from his collar, chucking it on his chair as he furiously pushed himself up.

Turning my head, I watched as he rounded the table and made his way into the parlour. “Do you not remember inviting Gandalf for tea? Literally yesterday morning?” I called out to him, resting my arm over the back of the chair.

Almost stumbling, he swivelled on his spot in the middle of the parlour, pointing his finger up as a flurry of emotions flashed across his face. “I –” He stuttered. “Yes, but preferably beforehand, at an acceptable time??” He then turned back around, striding towards the door with a newfound determination.

Realising what was about to happen, chairs scraped along stone tiles and clattered against the table as Kay and I scrambled to our feet. We chased after the hobbit, pointedly ignoring that I violently headbutted the archway into the parlour as we half-jogged across the room, before skidding to a stop just before the doorway.

Whilst attempting to rub away the painful throb where my forehead had connected with the wooden beam, I leant over to peek around at Bilbo, who was currently fiddling with the locks, before he grasped the now-unlocked handle with an infuriated look. Kay had just slotted her head over my shoulder when the hobbit hauled the door open, and his tensed up pose immediately faltered at the sight before him.

The moon cast a white light on the broad silhouette, that despite having a smaller stature than myself, oozed a foreboding energy that made the electric excitement up my spine turn to downright nervousness.

At the click and creak of the door opening, the silhouette looked over its shoulder, before slowly turning the rest of its body, revealing an all too familiar face in the candlelight.

Dwalin son of Fundin stood stout in the circular doorway, looking as stark and as gruff as the first time I saw him on screen over a decade ago.

“Dwalin.” He declared, sending chills of nostalgia through me, his voice as gritty as his appearance. With the moonlight over his shoulder and the warmth of Bag End on his face, Dwalin eyed up a now-very anxious Bilbo, before slowly bowing, keeping fierce and unwavering eye-contact with the hobbit.

“At your service.” He finished, and my breath practically hitched in my throat as I stared at the first very real dwarf I had ever seen in my life. And I spent every moment taking in every detail I could that the television denied me as my eyes darted over his form.

Bilbo’s muted whimper broke me out of my second long trance, and I watched as the hobbit rushed to cover the front of his night clothes with his dressing gown. “B-Bilbo Baggins, at yours.” He stuttered, hurriedly tying and pulling the straps of his gown taut with a sharp tug.

A moment passed when nobody moved, the only noises being the crickets in the distance, and I felt Kay hold her breath as she strained her neck to observe the exchange with wide eyes. Though that was quickly broken when Dwalin made the first move, striding forward with a guttural grunt.

This sent Bilbo into a slight panic, startling back a step as he blinked profusely in an attempt to comprehend the broad dwarf lumbering towards him.

“Do we know each other??” He blurted, beginning to raise his arm as if he could stop what was practically a home invasion.

This caused Dwalin to pause as he reached the hobbits side, turning towards him with an incredulous and almost offended look. “No?” He grunted bluntly, before carrying on down the hallway, failing to notice us in the doorway next to him as we felt his heavy footsteps thud through the floorboards, and I wondered if there would ever be a point in my life where I was strong enough to lift the boulder of a dwarf in front of me.

“Which way, laddie?” He called out as he shrugged off his large, heavy brown cloak with a rustle of fabric and the clack of metal buckles knocking together, not even bothering to turn to poor Bilbo, whose mouth was hanging open in shock as he stared after the dwarf. “Is it down here?” He questioned whilst folding the thick piece of clothing up.

Bilbo frowned, looking more confused than the time we had tried to explain modern bank accounts to him. “I-I-Is what down where???” He questioned back, all the while attempting to keep his voice steady. At this point it was like Kay and I were watching a tennis match, wide eyes flicking from side-to-side as the conversation continued.

Dwalin turned towards Bilbo at his question, and the hobbit perked up ever so slightly, the hope to find an answer flickering in his eyes. Though that was all squashed under foot – or a concerningly large boot in Dwalin’s case – when the dwarf practically chucked his cloak at him, causing Bilbo to stumble in both shock and at the sudden weight thrust onto his chest.

“Supper.” He stated expectantly, taking a curve to march towards the parlour.

Right towards where Kay and I stood.

His montage came to an immediate halt when he finally turned and his eyes landed on us, and I had to resist the urge to not simply scream out loud on the spot in nervous excitement.

Unfortunately, however, the thrill of tonight came to a crashing halt when Dwalin’s brows furrowed. “What is this?” He demanded slowly, an almost hostile edge lining his tone. Looking us up and down, he turned his head to the hobbit. “You have children?” He regarded more as a statement than a question as he jabbed a stocky thumb at us. I blinked, wondering if he was aware that there was a slight issue regarding that we couldn’t be his children because we weren’t hobbits. Bilbo, on the other hand, immediately exploded into a spluttering mess, face glowing bright red whilst trying to convince the dwarf that was very pointedly ignoring him that ‘we were not his children, but in fact his charges’.

Glancing back at us, Dwalin leaned forward ever so slightly with an intimidating air, examining us closely whilst we began to lean back nervously to avoid the intense gaze of the dwarf who barely just reached my shoulder. Nevertheless, he eventually returned to standing straight, hooking his thumbs into his heavily detailed belt.

“Dwalin, at your service.” He repeated the greeting he gave Bilbo with a short bow to us, despite the clear suspicion practically oozing out of him.

A beat passed where the two of us simply stared, though I swiftly brought my head down, bending slightly at the waist. “Kate.” I introduced politely, using every bit of energy I had in my body to try and not make my voice tremble. Waiting a moment, I watched as Dwalin furrowed his brows again, this time at Kay, and I glanced over to see that she was yet to move an inch, her eyes wide as she gawked at him. In a panic, I shot my hand out, still bowing as I slapped her on the arm.

Kay jumped with a start, before looking over to see me staring expectantly. Her eyes widening somehow even further, she quickly dropped slightly into a bow, cheeks reddening under the candlelight. “And Kay, at yours?” She all but stammered out.

Eyes narrowing a margin, he scanned the both of us, and we waited with apprehension.

He huffed. “He never said anything about children.” Was all that he muttered, before swivelling around and marching the rest of the way through the parlour and into the kitchen. “Anyway.” He declared. “He said there would be food.” He explained cryptically – to Bilbo anyway – as he strode through the doorway, “And lots of it.”

Meanwhile, the two of us let out breaths we hardly realised we were holding, practically slumping against the wall behind us, relieved that our first dwarf encounter didn’t end up in a brawl we would certainly end up losing.

…Unless I hexed him??

…Maybe.

Bilbo stumbled in front of us, oblivious to our silent collective meltdown via our first dwarf encounter, with brows furrowed as he stared flabbergasted after the disappearing dwarf. “He said??” He called out, scrunching his face in confusion as he looked up at us as if in hope that we had the answer. “Who said??”

The moment Bilbo scurried after Dwalin, Kay and I had vanished into the hallway, trying to ignore the heinous chewing noises coming from the dwarf, who was now sat comfortably at the kitchen table, chowing down on the poor hobbits fish.

Peeking around the corner, I made sure the two of them were as occupied as they could be, and judging by the thunderous look on Bilbo’s face as he sat a foot away behind his unexpected guest, and the crunching of the fish’s bones between Dwalin’s teeth, they were going to be there a while. Turning back around, I half-jogged, half-tiptoed down the hallway, the fluffy socks on my feet muffling any noises as I bounded up to Kay, a wide eyed ‘what the hell just happened’ on my face.

“Okayyy.” I breathed, hardly containing my giddiness as I rhythmically tapped my fingers together to stimulate my overflowing mind. “So, that didn’t go as bad as we thought it would?” I suggested, reaching up to distractedly picking at the dead skin on my lips as my eyes scanned Kay’s face for her reaction.

“Thank. God. It didn’t.” Kay sighed in relief, rolling her eyes in exasperation as she leant on the curved wall beside her. “I think I would’ve thrown myself off of the nearest cliff if we fucked up our first ever dwarf meeting.”

I had to muffle the huff of laughter that threatened to escape through my nose, silently clapping a hand over my mouth. Glancing over my shoulder, I made sure that the crunching of fish bones still echoed through the hallways, before turning back to Kay.

“Unfortunately, on a more serious note,” I began apprehensively, watching Kay slump even further against the wall with a low groan at the subject change. “Now we need to work our arses off trying to give the best sales pitch this side of Eriador - as to exactly why we need to be on this journey.”

Kay nodded in thought, determination in her eyes. “You know we could just say they’re all gonna die?”

“I guess?” I half agreed, my face scrunching in uncertainty at the very risky idea of being straight up blunt. “There is definitely the option of saying that we do actually know the future and the insanely stupid fact that some of, if not, the most important people on this quest are gonna get what shouldn’t be handed to them? And that we know the scene by scene timeline of exactly how it happens?” I considered, brown eyes darting around before I hissed when I pulled to hard at the skin of my lip. “Though, that does increase the chance that all thirteen of them are going to think we’re batshit insane and probably build Middle Earth’s first mental asylum just so they can stick us in it.”

“Yea, that’s very possible.” Kay agreed, amused. She remained silent for a moment, eyes hardening as her mind seemed deep in thought. Then, as if a lightbulb went off, her eyes lit up, glittering as she looked up at me. “What if we used Gandalf as a reason?”

I cocked my head slightly, silently signalling for her to elaborate. She straightened up from her place against the wall, considering her words for a moment. “What if… I mean, if Gandalf hasn’t already come up with an excuse, we could say that we’re under his mentorship? His apprentices? Honorary… Miairs? In training? And have to travel with him in order to further our knowledge?”

My eyes darted around in thought. “… And from what I’ve read and watched, what Gandalf says, goes” I said slowly, a lightbulb in my head becoming brighter by the second. “We could go the apprentices route? And he’ll just scare them into agreeing like he did with Bilbo’s case?”

Kay hummed, nodding her head in agreement. And then a voice reverberated through the hall.

“Very good, this.” Came Dwalin’s voice, slightly muffled by the copious amount of food I just knew was stuffed in his gob. “Any more?”

I suppressed a smile as Kay gave me an exaggerated eye roll at Dwalin’s request, then in response I jerked my head in the direction of the kitchen as a signal to follow, and we both tip-toed in our socks down the candlelit hall to peer around the corner.

The sight was certainly one to behold, as we had arrived just in time to witness as Bilbo hesitantly picked up the plate of scones he had meticulously baked earlier that day in response to Dwalin asking for even more food, a furious glint in his eye as he glared between them and the dwarf sat still half clad in his medieval-looking hiking gear at our kitchen table. And he was clearly far too busy stuffing his large fingers in his mouth to clean them of any remains of fish that he had all but devoured to the bone to acknowledge Mount Bilbo five seconds away from erupting next to him.

Despite his internal debate, Bilbo grabbed a scone from the pile, glancing rapidly between the plate and Dwalin to make sure the dwarf didn’t notice. During his tiny heist, he glanced up further, startling only slightly as his eyes landed on us peering around the doorway, and he quickly snatched two more off the pile, shoving them behind his back as he stretched his hand holding the plate out whilst simultaneously leaning back, his posture mimicking someone slightly aloof offering food to a feral, wild animal.

And to be honest, he wasn’t far from it. As soon as Dwalin spotted the plate out of the corner of his eye, his hand shot out, grappling at the scones like a starved man as he practically dumped them all on his plate albeit one, that he swiftly began to stuff in his mouth, and a cascade of crumbs proceeded to follow, speckled along his beard like concerningly large pieces of dandruff.

Kay and I turned to glance at each other, the looks on our faces clear as we both realised one thing: Dwarves certainly had awful manners.

By the time we turned back, Bilbo was already half way through his silent, tip-toeing journey to us, glancing behind him with a furious huff, and I could see his jaw clench as he swatted his hand as a signal for us to move back into the hallway. We did so, and he followed us out, before bringing the scones out from behind his back, handing us one each and keeping the third for himself.

“Unbelievable!!” He hissed under his breath, storming over to the pantry. “He’s eaten all three of our plates! All. Three!!” He all but seethed under his breath, stuffing a jam jar under his arm and a butter knife between his teeth whilst he reached for the clotted cream. Prying off the lids, he quickly sawed his scone in half like someone auditioning to be the murderer for a Scream movie, before shoving the knife in one of the jars and scooping out a large wad of cream and dunking it on the halves of the scone. “That was our dinner, for Yavanna’s sake!” He practically turned his scone into a crime scene, the red jam he was chucking on splattering around his plate like blood, before he handed me the knife so I could do my own, not even bothering to care about his knife policy (One knife for each jar – he goes on several tangents about cross contamination and the unsightliness of jam getting in the cream) as he watched me make my own with a faraway but clearly still furious look before I passed the knife to Kay.

Shoving the scone in his mouth to take a bite, he glared at the wall behind Kay and I in thought. “When he’s gone.” He fumed lowly, though it was slightly hilarious as his words were muffled by the copious amounts of dense scone stuffed in his check like a squirrel. “I am taking several slices of that lemon and pistachio cake you both made, and a glass of milk, and I will not be leaving my room unless the entire house is on fire.”

Swallowing my mouthful of scone, I glanced at Kay nervously out of the corner of my eye, to see she was doing the same. We knew for a fact that despite his rantings, poor Bilbo definitely wasn’t going to bed anytime soon.

Marching back into the kitchen, Bilbo put his hands on his hips with a huff, looping his thumbs into the belt of his dressing gown as he pretended to have a nosey out the window. Glancing behind him at Dwalin who was still rather crudely stuffing scones into his mouth without even considering to ask for jam or cream, he seemed to hype himself up ever so slightly before awkwardly turning and taking a step towards the dwarf. Heel – pause – then toe, then awkward lurching and bending of the body? This hobbit couldn’t define awkwardness more than he could right now. And Dwalin hadn’t noticed a thing.

Though at this point I could be convinced he was ignoring the prancing hobbit on purpose.

“Mmmm.” Hummed Bilbo the moment he watched a cascade of crumbs tumble from the dwarf’s beard. “It’s just that, um-” He idled, taking a moment turning to briefly glance out the small circular window in an attempt to look casually busy. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

And as if his silent prayers for a peaceful evening couldn’t be trampled on even more, the jingling chime of the doorbell echoed gently through the house.

Bilbo’s head shot up, looking down into the parlour, swallowing nervously at the thought of further disturbance. Dwalin, clearly one for the dramatics, turned his head slowly to glower up at the hobbit, eyes shadowed by his thick prominent brows as he uttered his line.

“That’ll be the door.”

---

It was like the front door was a magnet, the way Kay and I slowly wandered into the parlour to stare at it as it loomed in the entrance hall, too nervous to walk over and open it despite knowing exactly who was on the other side.

Though, thankfully we didn’t get far considering Bilbo had gone storming past in a flash, furiously muttering a “Wait there.” under his breath at us.

And wait there we did. Though, on the edge of the table near the window instead of the armchairs in an attempt to avoid Dwalin who had slowly migrated from the table to the parlour, where he was now hovering by the mantlepiece, prominently ignoring us as he spotted and opened a jar of cookies I had made a few days ago, and was now struggling to shove his armoured hand in. I would’ve suggested he removed his knuckle dusters, but valued my life and dignity more.

The circular front door emitted a creak here and there as Bilbo hauled it open, and whilst we couldn’t quite see, the warm, good-natured voice of Balin greeted the exasperated hobbit with his own name.

“Balin.” He declared, and I could hear the friendly smile in his voice. “At your service.”

Bilbo simply stared, expressionless and clearly done with life, not a twitch on his face.

“Good evening.” He deadpanned, voice flatter than Lincolnshire county.

There was a pause, and I could practically envision the way Balin took a polite glance at the night sky above him.

“Yes, yes it is!” Balin replied politely, before stepping into Bag End, finally coming into view. “Though I think it might rain later.” He added with a bit of a solemn nod, coming to a stop in front of Bilbo and clasping his hands together in front of himself. “Am I late?” He questioned cryptically with a glance of eye up and down.

All Bilbo could do was squint, leaning forward ever so slightly as if he couldn’t help himself. “…Late for what?”

As if on cue, I glanced to see Dwalin making a rather large rattle with the cookie jar, only to jump slightly as a loud “OOOOHHHH!!” reverberated through the hobbit hole because Balin had finally turned his head and spotted his brother.

Dwalin almost immediately ceased his squabble with the jar, turning at the sound of his brother’s call. Though I couldn’t help but notice, amused, that the dwarf had failed to tug the jar off his hand.

“Evening, brother.” Balin proclaimed slyly with an impish grin as he slowly strutted towards his sibling with an exaggerated swing of his arms, low cackles escaping him.

Dwalin let out his own grunting chortle, and Kay and I silently watched as the brothers reunited.

“Hoh hohhh.” Dwalin replied, amused with an equally sly grin on his face as he finally managed the jar off his hand and placed it on the floor to stalk towards Balin. “By my beard, you’re shorter and wider than last we met.” He commented, his Scottish accent as prominent as ever.

“Wider, not shorter.” Balin replied, coming to a stop in front of his brother and giving him a once over. “Sharp enough for both of us.” He added, and the two of them chuckled lowly again as he gave a sly wink.

Turning my head, I watched as Bilbo took a few seconds to hurriedly check out the still open front door, clearly searching for the next inevitable lot, and I faced back around only to see Dwalin and Balin having grasped each other by the shoulders or biceps, pausing a moment before pulling back and then forwards to smash their foreheads together. The sound of their skulls colliding with such force caused me to flinch and visibly recoil as I could practically imagine the force of it on my own head with a grimace.

To my right, Bilbo let out a slight guffaw as he witnessed the brothers’ rather violent greeting, before gingerly raising his hand as if he wanted to grab their attention.

“Ah, excuse me, sorry.” Bilbo stammered, words coming out his mouth in staccato bursts as if each syllable was a conscious effort whilst he tried to find a way to politely tell these dwarves to get the hell out of his house. “I hate to interrupt – uh – but the thing is, I’m not entirely sure –” he raised his hand further before swinging it around to point at the door. “– you’re in the right house.” He glanced to where his hand was pointing before turning to them fully.

Dwalin didn’t even bother to glance his way, still speaking lowly to his older brother as Bilbo tried to ever so politely get their attention. And it seemed the quiet talking had covered the subject of our existence, as Balin turned to finally look our way for the first time. He paused a moment, seemingly giving a bit of a vibe check, but testament to his character, he remained friendly as ever.

“Ah!” He gently exclaimed, turning to Bilbo and very clearly ignoring everything the poor hobbit had just tried to say. “Your daughters I presume?” He questioned with a cheeky glint before facing us and greeting with a bow and a “Balin, at your service.”, not even bothering to acknowledge the way Bilbo stood there, mouth gaping slightly as he tried to get even a word out to explain once again that we weren’t his children. But to no avail, as Dwalin clapped his hand on his brother’s shoulder, taking his attention back.

“Have you eaten?” He queried, striding back into the kitchen with Balin following, making a beeline for the adjacent pantry across the atrium hall.

“Aye, but only this morning.” Balin replied, their voices echoing slightly as they vanished round the corner, and all Kay and I could do was look back at Bilbo, who stared at the corner they had just disappeared around, before throwing his arms up and regarding us with a rather frustrated, wide eyed ‘Can you believe this???’ look before marching after them.

Rather than following him through, Kay and I quietly moved to sit at the table in the dining room on the other side of the atrium, prominently trying to avoid the crumbs and pieces of fish haphazardly strewn and smeared across the wooden surface of the table in the kitchen by Dwalin’s attempt at eating dinner. I thought back rather forlornly to my own plate, now sat in the other room empty apart from a hastily stripped fish skeleton, and my stomach growled as if agreeing, clearly unsatisfied by the scone Bilbo managed to snag us.

“Oh-u-i-it’s not that I don’t like visitors,” Bilbo tried to casually explain, and I turned my head to watch the poor guy struggle as both dwarves continued to ignore him, too busy inspecting the pantry and deciding to – quite on character – snag wooden tankards from one of the shelves and begin helping themselves to some ale. “I-I like visitors as much as the next hobbit.” Bilbo continued in an attempt to get a word over the chatter, putting his hands on his hips as he tried to seem at least a little stern. “But I do like to know them before they come-” he jabbed a finger at the ground in emphasis. “-visiting.”

“What is this?” Dwalin grimaced, and Bilbo perked up for barely a second before deflating again when he realised the dwarf had completely disregarded anything he had just said and was instead showing his brother a block of blue cheese of which its existence he was quite confused by. He gave it a sniff before recoiling with a disgusted scoff as his brother replied.

“I don’t know.” Answered Balin, equally confused and almost mournful at its condition. “I think it’s cheese. Gone blue.”

Dwalin turned it in his hand. “It’s riddled with mould.” He concluded before chucking it over his shoulder and proceeding to ignore Bilbo’s next attempt at getting through to them.

“– the thing is, I don’t – I don’t know either of you.” He stuttered, turning to watch the block of blue cheese fly in an arc past him with a‘well fuck me’ expression. “…Not in the slightest.”

I grimaced as the mouldy cheese landed near my feet, and I discreetly slipped my wand out my sleeve and gave it a flick with a whisper of a spell under my breath, and the cursed thing was silently flung out one of the little circular windows into the night and probably into Bilbo’s flower bushes. The half of the framed glass swung shut with a barely audible squeak before I quickly composed myself, catching Bilbo’s deadpan expression as he side eyed me, and I ducked my head to fight a grin.

Thankfully, both dwarves were too busy with the miracle that was a stocked pantry, and the sound of Bilbo continuing his polite tirade in an attempt to kick them out.

“I don’t mean to be blunt,” He continued, nodding slightly as if psyching himself up. “But I uh – But I had to speak my mind.” He raised both hands with palms forward in polite surrender. “I’m sorry.”

“– you think –?” Balin started before promptly cutting himself off, both him and his brother turning simultaneously to stare silently at the hobbit.

Though I couldn’t see his face, it was pretty clear Bilbo hadn’t expected the sudden attention, his whole demeanour faltering slightly under their gaze. Another beat passed, and then Balin’s face quickly shifted to something more warm and polite once again.

“Apology accepted.” He responded for the first time in a few minutes, an easy going little smile on his face before turning back to Dwalin to hand back his tankard. “Go’on now, fill it up, brother, don’t stint.”

Dwalin grumbled something incomprehensible before turning back to the barrel. Bilbo on the other hand was another kind of deflated, letting out a huff before shuffling over to us, clearly defeated.

And for the third time that evening, the doorbell chimed.

Our heads had never whipped around so fast, Kay and I frozen staring at each other, eyes wide and full of panic. My hand hovering frozen over a plate I was about to clear away and Kay with a teacup halfway up to her lips.

And we just kept staring.

And staring.

Eyes eventually darted slightly around in thought, and we barely noticed the huff Bilbo let out before he gave up on our indecisive panicking asses and stormed back into the hallway.

I broke through my frozen state, whipping my head around as if I could X-ray through the walls like Superman to see if it was who I thought it to be. Obviously unsuccessful, I jerked my head back around.

“Is it them??” I mouthed, jerking a thumb over my shoulder.

Kay haphazardly threw her hands up. “I think so???” She mouthed back. “Probably???”.

“Do we–?”

“I don’t know?!?!”

Only then did I clock the empty space where Bilbo once stood, and I twisted my spine almost painfully in panic to see him skulking through the doorway into the pantry looking like he had half given up on life but also ready to rip someone a new one if they tested him.

“Wait! Bilbo – maybe let’s just – !” I called, shoving back my chair, I flinched and cringed at the squeal it made and half tripped when Kay grabbed my wrist, already stood and trying to drag me back into the kitchen and the pantry once again.

To my right, I glanced out the window, seeing nothing but darkness, and panic overwhelmed my nerves once again.

“Noooo, no, no.” I breathed, tugging my wrist out of Kay’s hand and stumbling back to glue myself against the wall just before I was dragged into the entrance hall. Swallowing heavily, I took a breath, staring at the entrance Bilbo had wandered ahead into as if it had grown teeth and I was its next meal.

Kay had immediately stopped at the feeling of my arm leaving her grip, and she turned to see me attempting to weld myself into the foundations. “Kate?!” She hissed. “What are you - ?”

“I dunno?? Maybe I should stay here?” I whispered, leaning forward to peek through the doorway, before returning back to the wall as if it could hide me forever. “Just – you know – camouflage?? Becoming one with the wallpaper?? Girl I don’t know I’m freaking outtt.” I groaned, the reality of the actual plot coming into play looming over my head as I dropped my face into my hands.

“Honestly, same. Maybe we should just go hide in the wardrobe.” Kay agreed, and I parted my hands to see her shifting to hide next to me.

“I – WHAT –?” My head twisted between her and the doorway. “KAY?? You’re supposed to punch me in the arm and drag me along, not agree with me!”

She gave me an incredulous wide-eyed look. “Well you suggested it!!” She exclaimed, gesturing a pointed finger at me.

I went to retaliate, but movement caught my eye and I looked up to spot Dwalin eyeing us with a rather incredulous look, raising a rather bushy brow at our slightly stupid argument.

I shut up immediately, giving the most awkward half-wave with a rather forced smile in an attempt to convince him that yes, we were perfectly normal people. Totally not having a meltdown over the reality of people being at the door.

All he did was grunt, unimpressed, before silently grabbing two of the chairs from the kitchen table and disappearing through the doorway in the corner of the kitchen that led to the dining room. Clearly they had already began putting together the huge makeshift table to accommodate everyone to come.

Kay whipped back around at me as I took her wrist and lead her into the entrance hall and into the oak hall further back. “If this is how emotionally unprepared we are with only two inside and another two out there, I swear to God I –”

“What are you two doing??”

We both sprung almost a foot in the air, my own forehead coming into contact with the low ceiling for what felt like the fifth time that evening with a painful thud as I hissed out an “OW??”. I rubbed the sore spot, looking down to find Bilbo leaning through the doorway with a clear ‘what the hell is going on’ look on his face.

Kay glanced away silently, then back at him. “Stealth mission?” She suggested, voice two times higher in pitch.

Bilbo would have replied, if it weren’t for the doorbell chiming again, causing him to aggressively roll his eyes.

“Could you please go keep an eye on the other two whilst I deal with this?” He pleaded, gesturing in the direction of the shuffling and clattering of what was two dwarves very clearly helping themselves to the furniture around the house. He didn’t bother to make sure we agreed before stomping up to the door and swinging it open with a creak.

To be completely honest, I had always known what Kíli and Fíli would look like. I mean, of course I knew what they looked like from the films, photos online, like one would know the Mona Lisa – you would recognise it anywhere, but most have never really seen it up close and in person. And this was very much my case, and memory had to play a part when you’ve had to live in a different world with ZERO modern technology, meaning my laptop and phone had been the equivalent of metal bricks since they died within a matter of days - I haven’t exactly got a way to look up any images to remind oneself.

And yet there they were, standing in the doorway, giving both the biggest sense of déjà vu, but also that odd feeling where you knew something was… off. Like reality was refusing to line up with memory. Maybe it was the different angle I was observing from, or the smell of fish and vegetables wafting through from the kitchen from when Bilbo had cooked earlier that evening. All I knew was that everything was the same, but also just as different.

The main thing that stood out to me, as it probably would stand out to anyone in my position, was the heights. And yes, whilst that’s the most generic thing anyone would say, it was true. They were small. I would guess Kíli was 4’10, at best, Fíli just a tad shorter. And I’ll say now, four-foot-ten is different in person than it is on a screen. These were no longer men between 5’8 and 5’10 CGI-ed to look short, these were to-scale, short as fuck, real, living, breathing, dwarves. With large noses and honestly, the biggest ears I’ve ever seen on a person. And it was jarring enough that my brain decided to provide the thought that they were perfectly sized for me to bend ever so slightly and rest my chin on top of their heads.

Not like I would actually do that. For obvious, potential, punch-to-the-face reasons.

My biggest focus was their faces. What should have been prosthetics were now actual flesh and bone. No make-up seams, or CGI. Just seamless skin with actual pores, actual hair with braids that would leave my arms screaming with aches if I ever dared to attempt the tedious process. Well, braids on Fíli, anyway. Kíli was lacking in that department aside from the silver rectangular clasp holding up his hair in an effortless half-up-half-down style.

His eyes, brown and wide in a way that was the definition of young and bright, were now 3D and ridiculously real, and I knew that I would certainly never be happy with the 2D version again.

Though, nothing could have prepared me for the snort that threatened to leave my throat when I focused in on their expressions.

Kíli, clearly the type of person who’d brag about nailing a first introduction then end up panicking at the last second, was staring poor Bilbo down with the biggest, constipated ‘DON’T. FUCK. THIS. UP.’ look on his face. I took a glance at Fíli, who was quite the opposite, chill as a cucumber and genuinely looking like he’d happily smoke a joint with a goat right about now.

All Bilbo could do was let out a low whimper, subtly stepping from one foot to the other as if he didn’t know whether to run or slam the door. Kay and I remained in the Oak hall further back, taking a peek to observe the two dwarves over Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Fíli.” Fíli greeted with a polite small smile and nod.

Kíli, on the other hand, still looked slightly frown-y and constipated, gave Bilbo a quick once over, almost like an attempt to look just a little intimidating. “And Kíli.”

“At your service.” They both said in unison whilst taking a deep simultaneous bow.

“…Kay.” I murmured, not taking my eyes off the view in front of me from where I was peeking round the corner. She quietly hummed in reply. “Tell Bilbo that a bunch of rats broke in because I’m about to gnaw on the walls.”

Kay turned her head to look up at me with a slight grin. “What, cuz they’re fit?”

I struck her lightly on the shoulder. “Because I’m stressed!!” I hissed, feeling like I was about to vibrate through the floor and run a 5k at the same time.

Kay signalled with a glance to the front door then back at me. “Well, go say hi then.” She suggested quietly.

My head jerked to look at her, mildly offended, and I aggressively poked her shoulder. “YOU go say hi.”

“What?!?” She spluttered, eyes wide. “Are you crazy? No!”

“Then don’t act like you’re the calmest one here!” I cried under my breath.

“You must be Mr Boggins!”

The two of us fell as quiet as a mouse, apprehensive to the miniature bomb that was Bilbo about to go off in front of a calm looking Fíli and an adorably grinning Kíli.

“NOPE!” exclaimed Bilbo, dipping his knees like some weird half hop in place to make a point as he began to shut the door. “You can’t come in, you’ve come to the wrong house.”

And within a moment Kíli’s hand had flung out. “What?!” He exclaimed, worry coating his face as he pushed the door back open effortlessly whilst Bilbo let out a muffled guffaw at the force. “Has it been cancelled?”

Fíli stepped up beside him, face serious with equal confusion. “No one told us?”

Bilbo just scrunched his face, equally confused. “C-canc–? No, nothing’s been cancelled?!”

Kíli’s grin came back twice as bright. “Well, that’s a relief.” He breathed, still beaming before practically shoving his way through the door, Fíli following, almost strutting his way in and giving the hallway a curious flicker of his eyes. All poor Bilbo could do was turn on the spot and watch yet another pair of dwarves invade his once-peaceful home.

Though I always wonder whether he’s had any peace since we came along.

Turning to Bilbo, Fíli began unloading his weapons. “Careful w’these.” He stated, with a suave edge to his tone as he piled them up in the bewildered hobbit’s arms. “I just had ‘em sharpened.”

I let out a quiet ‘oof’ as an elbow collided just under my ribs, looking down to see Kay pointing aggressively down the hall whilst gently shoving me backwards.

Understanding her point, I stumbled backwards before turning round, the two of us keeping light on our feet as we snuck down the hall, both of us hilariously too anxious to start making introductions, almost on the verge of digging a hole and never coming back out.

Slipping into the pantry, I barely skimmed Balin with a polite ‘Sorry!’, before using my height to my advantage to reach the shelves higher up, distracting myself by picking out stuff at random whilst listening to the chatter going on down the hall. Kay did the same, kneeling to faff with some cupboards.

“It’s nice, this place.” I heard Kíli compliment to Bilbo, voice an octave higher as I pictured him taking in the winding but warm, circular halls of Bag End. “Did you do it yourself?” He questioned.

“Wha-I-uhhh no it’s been in the family for years.” I heard Bilbo reply, voice rambling and strained slightly since he was still currently dealing with Fíli unloading everything but the kitchen sink into his arms. My ears picked up the sudden scraping of shoes against something wooden and – “THAT’S MY MOTHER’S GLORY BOX, can you please not DO that?!?” – there it was, right on time.

Biting my lip to hide the grin building on my face, my eyes lit up as I spotted a wooden cake stand near the back, a still-semi-fresh Victoria sponge cake sitting expectantly underneath the thick glass dome lid.

Reaching out, I slid the heavy stand towards myself as silently as I could, eager to get this cake stashed and hidden with the hopes that it would cheer up poor Bilbo later that night once everyone was asleep. I only paid half a mind to the footsteps that passed the pantry.

“Fíli, Kíli, c’mon, give us a hand.” I heard Dwalin call assertively, no doubt he was swinging his arm over Kíli’s shoulder and hauling him down the hall to the dining room opposite where Kay and I were.

“Mister Dwalin.” Kíli enunciated, giddiness lining his tone.

Turning my head, I watched between the dried plants hanging from the pantry ceiling to see Dwalin entering the dining area, Kíli in tow as he clapped Balin on the shoulder in greeting with Fíli following close behind and –

“FUCKIN’ELL.” I yowled, pain shooting up my right foot as I fumbled to keep the cake stand in my arms balanced.

Craning my neck, I looked down to see Kay silently panicking and whispering sorry over and over under her breath as she dragged what was possibly the heaviest ceramic mixing bowl in the existence of ever off my now throbbing foot.

Lifting said foot, I stared, expecting blood or possibly even a bone to pop out from beneath my sock. Thankfully, nothing did, but it didn’t stop the pulsing agony as I tried to keep my weight on my left foot that had the luck of avoiding the absolute boulder that was the bowl now being hauled back into the cupboard by a very apologetic looking Kay.

Arms still latched around the cake stand, I remained silent, glaring with wide eyes from beneath deadpan brows as Kay stood with a box that she had been looking for in her hands. All she did was take one look at my expression, and proceeded to let out a rather indignant snort, shielding her smile with a hand over her mouth.

“I’m sorry!” She breathed, unable to withhold her giggles as she made her way into the wine cellar at the back of the pantry. “At least it didn’t break anything?”

Striding after her – though it was more of an indignant hobble – I stared, dumbfounded. “Tell that to my 2D foot?” I blurted, following her through the passage that led from the wine cellar around to the back room near my bedroom. “I’m surprised you haven’t already tried fashioning it into an A4 sheet of paper! Let alone the fact that the first thing they heard come from my mouth was crude enough to curse their ancestors because you tried flattening my foot until it became one with the floorboards!?”

All Kay could do was laugh, pushing open the door to my bedroom.

All Kíli could do, on the other hand, was turn at the sound of a thud that was then proceeded by a yell of something he couldn’t quite make out. He stared, watching the two retreating figures as they vanished through a doorway from what he assumed was the hobbit’s pantry. Clearly women, but not hobbits, if their long skirts and taller heights were anything to go by, but he had failed to get a good look at anything above their shoulders, their faces partially obscured by the hanging dry plants and the fact that they were facing away, the taller one blocking most of the view of the other.

Brows furrowing, he turned to Balin.

“Who’re they?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Sorry I haven't updated for so long! University amongst other fandom related distractions have meant my hobbit fixation has taken a while to return. But I'm back now and the next chapter is in the works so see you all soon! :)

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