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ladylouoflothlorien · 3 years

Text

One of the boys

summary: Hobbits are terribly sexist and have incredibly traditional views on gender roles. Bilba Baggins is a female Hobbit – who by normal standards should have married 10 years ago – and she’s just about done with The Shire and everyone in it. Gandalf gives her an out, and it’s an out she was never going to refuse, no matter how dangerous it may prove to be. Alternatively: my excuse to make Bilbo and Thorin lesbians.

pairing: fem!bilbo x fem!thorin

warnings: I just want to give a little warning for themes like sexism, misogyny etc. I also just want to say that there is unintentional misgendering on the part of the female dwarves. I want to clarify that in this fic, the gender-swapped dwarves are all cisgender, and the dwarves perpetuate the idea that they’re all male when they’re in the company of outsiders (but I still thought it worth mentioning just in case this could trigger someone ❤️)

word count: 3135

Bilba Baggins shifted uncomfortably on her pony. She still wasn’t used to riding Myrtle, and she certainly wasn’t used to life on the road. The Company had only been travelling for a week and a half, but the female Hobbit already found herself missing her bed and her armchair and her bookshelf and her pantry. Despite her sore behind and empty stomach, Bilba was glad to be with Thorin and his company of dwarves, and the Hobbit was proud to join them on their quest to reclaim their homeland.

When Bilba looked ahead to the horizon she noticed with some surprise that the sky was getting dark. Well, that explained the relative quiet – the dwarves were always less rowdy when they were hungry and ready to rest for the night, though she highly doubted that any of them ever felt as bone-shatteringly exhausted at the end of the day as she did. Her gaze shifted from the skyline to the two dwarves riding in front of her, and Bilba smiled to herself as she thought back to when the dwarves had first tumbled into her Smial.

Bilba collapsed against the inside of her front door as soon as she’d shut it. A sigh escaped her as she dropped the heavy basket she’d been carrying on the floor. The only thing that had given her enough strength to stay at the market long enough to complete all her shopping had been Gandalf’s promise of strange guests to her Smial that night. Gandalf. She’d hardly recognised him at first, but she knew he’d been her mother’s close friend, and it was nice to see him again after such a long time. Even if her memories of him were a little faded.

A groan left her lips as she pushed herself off the door and bent down to pick up her basket once again, and despite her best efforts to keep her mind blank she began to replay the interactions she’d had at the market that day.

“My dearest Bilba-”

“I’ve already asked you not to call me that.”

They continued, unperturbed.

“My dearest Bilba, you haven’t invited me to dinner yet, and I-”

“Please, call me Mistress Baggins.”

“- I would be most disappointed if you didn’t.”

There was a short silence, and Bilba, desperate to be left alone with her shopping, had decided to swallow her pride for the sake of peace.

“Y-yes, well… I’m sorry, I’ve been busy.”

He seemed – regrettably – highly encouraged by her lack of scathing denial, and seemed to think her reply somehow invited further conversation.

“Ah, my dear, I understand. You must have so much to do without a man about Bag End, but never you fear! I am sure the situation will be sorted soon.”

Bilba blinked owlishly at him. He apparently thought he was being charming. She clutched her basket tighter, knuckles whitening, and could not help but feel repulsed.

“Right… well, forgive me, but I must be getting on. My pantry is rather bare.”

“Of course! It is admirable that you take your womanly duties so seriously. Good day, Bilba!”

An invitation to a private meal; the first stage in Hobbit courting where the one being courted reciprocated the attentions they were being shown. Apparently, a long time ago, the courting hadn’t been gender-specific, but now the cooking of the private meal was entirely the domain of female hobbits.

“Disgraceful, is what it is.” Bilba muttered to herself as she shuffled to her pantry to put away her purchases.

Bilba had been approached by no less than three male Hobbits at the market asking when they would be invited over to Bag End of an evening. A fourth had approached in an attempt to present her with a frankly gaudy bouquet of flowers that she’d artfully dodged. As if that hadn’t been enough, she’d also received near countless comments from older, married Hobbits – both male and female alike – telling her how lucky she was at her time of life to have so many suitors, but that she’d better not wait too long to finally accept one. The biological clock was ticking, and all that.

Those were the comments that really got under her skin. Bilba was no fool. She knew that most eligible female Hobbits were married by the time they reached forty. Bilba had already reached fifty. Still, she didn’t think that gave anyone the right to comment on the apparent lack of use she was making of her womb. Just because having children was the done thing didn’t mean that she had any intention of doing it. Still, it was safer to let them think what they would, and say what they wanted with no corrections. The longer they all believed she actually wanted to mother children, the longer they’d believe she actually had any interest in marrying – which she did not. In fact, Bilba Baggins had no interest in men at all.

Bilba reached the pantry, and she scowled as she set the food out on the correct shelves. There was another reason, she knew, as to why at 50 she still had so many eager suitors – other than the love they all professed to feel. Bilba was a Baggins. The Baggins of Bag End, and that came with reputation, social status, and wealth, which no doubt all of her suitors couldn’t wait to get their grubby little hands on.

Yes, Bilba thought, hands on hips, I think I should like an adventure very much. Anything to get away from The Shire for a time.

Four hours later, her first guest arrived. A dwarf? Gandalf hadn’t mentioned anything about dwarves. Still, she welcomed this ‘Dwalin’ as politely as she could. He was eyeing her up, like he wasn’t sure what to make of her, but when she led him through to the dining room – where the table was laden with a spread fit for a Hobbit feast – his standoffish aura had completely melted away.

Eleven more showed up in quick succession, and when Gandalf greeted her she’d jokingly told him he was lucky his companions were arriving under the cover of darkness.

“I’m not sure I’d be quite able to explain away the scandal if my neighbours caught sight of twelve male dwarves turning up on my doorstep.”

Some of the dwarves exchanged looks at that, which she caught but didn’t understand. Perhaps dwarven culture was so different that they didn’t understand why there would possibly be a scandal.

Bilba hung back a little as the dwarves in her home ate, drank, and talked rather boisterously. She didn’t begrudge them their merriment, in fact she enjoyed watching so many people so happy all together, but it was a little too much for her to take when she’d essentially been living in self-imposed isolation since her parents had passed.

Rather lost in her thoughts, Bilba didn’t immediately register that there had been yet another knock on her door. The sudden, startling silence of her present company dragged her back to reality, and when Gandalf helpfully – albeit rather dramatically – announced ‘he is here’ she was able to infer that there was someone at the door and she went to open it.

The door swung open and oh, but if that wasn’t the most glorious mane of dark and silver hair she’d ever set eyes upon. Bilba could hardly be surprised by the more than slightly disappointed twist in her stomach when one of the younger-looking dwarves yelled ‘uncle’ from behind her.

So this is also a male dwarf. She was disappointed, but made sure to keep her expression clear. It wouldn’t do to accidentally offend her guest just because she’d hoped he might actually be a female dwarf.

As Bilba stepped aside to allow her newest guest to enter, she remembered what she’d been told about female dwarves - that for other races they were sometimes considered indistinguishable from men, as both men and women grew facial hair. It occurred to the Hobbit that she should not have assumed all her guests were male, but then again none of them had corrected her, and she had also overheard them all calling each other ‘he’ and ‘brother’. It seemed she’d been spared the embarrassment of mistaking their gender, for which she silently sent a prayer of thanks to her Lady Yavanna.

This new dwarf ignored the call of what must be his nephew and passed through the doorway into Bag End, addressing Gandalf first before anyone – which Bilba found rather rude, as she was the host, and therefore was owed an introduction.

“Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn’t’ve found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.”

Bilba was struck by his words, and instantly rose to the defence of her home as any self-respecting Hobbit would.

“Ma- There’s no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!”

“There is a mark, I put it there myself.”

She turned to look at Gandalf, mouth hanging open for a moment. In her stunned silence, Gandalf snatched the opportunity to introduce her to her guest, the sneak, for he knew she would not risk being impolite to a stranger. Still, she would definitely be having words with Gandalf when she got the chance, very strong words in fact, about why you should never deface the door of a Hobbit Hole… or any door for that matter! A wizard should certainly know better!

“Bilba Baggins. Allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“So, this is the Hobbit.”

Dear lord, Bilba thanked the stars this dwarf was male, for she would surely otherwise have swooned under the intensity of that gaze… and he called her ‘Hobbit’! She was used to hearing tell of outsiders only knowing to use the word ‘Halfling’, unaware of quite how rude they were being. She was rather glad she wouldn’t have to correct him.

Then, unfortunately, the dwarf had to go and ruin her first impression by thoroughly intimidating and interrogating her, even going as far as walking around her in a slow circle – the nerve – and then he and his company completely ignored her! They were in her home. She had prepared a feast for them, the least she deserved was the typical respect shown to a hostess. Honestly, if she wasn’t so desperate to leave The Shire, and if they didn’t come with Gandalf’s personal recommendation, she would’ve been seriously reconsidering accompanying them on whatever little adventure they were going on.

Bilba avoided them for a little while, allowing their apparent leader to settle in and eat his fill. She finally re-joined them when they started talking about their quest, although she stayed hovering behind Gandalf and not actually sitting down with them at the table. Not that there were any free seats left for her, had she decided she wanted to.

It was all very dramatic, especially when Gandalf somehow pulled an old key from who knows where. She knew she should’ve been paying more attention to what exactly was being said, but it was a little difficult when she felt so thoroughly excluded from the conversation. Still, one sentence stuck out to her more than most, and she found herself answering it without thinking.

“That’s why we need a burglar.”

“Hmm. A good one, too. An expert, I’d imagine.”

“And are you?”

Bilba physically turned to look behind her at that, because this dwarf couldn’t possibly be implying that she, Bilba Baggins, was a burglar.

“Am I what?” She asked, giving this ungrateful guest a chance to explain himself, for she was nothing but civil and she was determined to remain so.

Unfortunately, another dwarf who – bless him – had an ear trumpet and therefore could not be blamed for his confusion, cried out in gladness.

“She said she’s an expert!”

Bilba had to set things straight.

“Me? N-no, no no no no, I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life!”

Unless you counted the conkers she’d taken from someone else’s garden at age 18 and never been blamed for, or the last cookie from her mother’s plate when she was 20 – which her father had been blamed for, at least initially – or the poor flowers that Lobelia had planted in her front garden in entirely the wrong place. The sweet things were never going to survive like that, Bilba was merely rescuing them…. well, perhaps she had stolen a few things, but never anything substantial, and she certainly wanted these strangers to know it. What fantastical lies had Gandalf been feeding them about her?

Balin – she remembered his name because he had been one of the more polite members of the party - seemed disappointed.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Miss Baggins, she’s hardly burglar material.”

Well now, that should have been a compliment… so why did it sound like the reverse?

Another dwarf, Dwalin, spoke next. She remembered his name only because he had been the first to show up at her door.

“Ay, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.”

Bilba felt suddenly cold. Was her place on their adventure only secure if she was to be their burglar? Would they leave her behind now they knew she wasn’t? The dwarves around the table started bickering amongst themselves, and Bilba could not catch a word any of them were saying. She had no idea what to do, but it seemed that Gandalf did. The room darkened suddenly and Gandalf – already so much taller than everyone present – seemed to grow taller still.

“Enough! If I say Bilba Baggins is a Burglar, then a Burglar she is!”

Whatever strange power he had called upon melted away once he had everyone’s attention, but still he continued, and Bilba had to admit his reasoning did make sense as to why a Hobbit would be a good choice, which meant his reasoning for choosing her was also sensible, as she very much doubted that Gandalf would easily find another Hobbit who would even consider going on an adventure.

“Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most, if they choose. And while the Dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of Hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Miss Baggins. There is a lot more to her than appearances suggest.”

Once again that evening what should have been a compliment felt like an insult, and Bilba was rather beginning to dislike the manners of her present company, Gandalf included. She was still seething about the mark on her freshly painted door.

“And she’s got a great deal more to offer than any of you know!”

Well, that was more like a true compliment. Perhaps Bilba could endeavour to forgive the wizard. In time.

“Including herself.”

No, he had once again disgraced himself. How dare he? He had no idea the strength she had to possess to get through even a single day in The Shire whilst trying to be true to who she was. Bilba Baggins knew her own worth, thank you very much.

“You must trust me on this.”

Bilba looked from Gandalf to Thorin, who seemed to be weighing the wizard’s words carefully. After a pause, he leant back in his chair and shook his head once.

“No Gandalf. I will not be responsible for Miss Baggins in the wild. She has no experience, no skill with a blade or with burglary. I do not want her death on my hands, for die she surely will. She will be of no use to us, we must find some other burglar for our quest.”

Bilba’s mouth hung open, and she stared at the back of Thorin’s head in stunned silence for just long enough that he had settled his position in his chair again and seemed to be preparing to move on to another topic when she finally found her voice.

“How dare you?”

Her first words were barely louder than a whisper, but the outrage they bore carried across the room. Every dwarf turned to look at her.

“Did you not hear everything Gandalf has said? You need a Hobbit, and you won’t find another willing to go with you, that I can guarantee.”

Bilba’s eyes glanced to Gandalf, who was looking at her with an amused twinkle in his eyes, which only served to irritate her further. He shouldn’t find amusement in her distress, the nerve of it.

“I could be of great use to you, not that you’ve bothered to find out anything about me other than that I have a well-stocked pantry!”

Some of the dwarves already looked vaguely chastised as she stared them down, hands moving to her hips, but she was by no means done. Bilba finally had an outlet for all of the aggravation she’d built up over the course of the day, and by golly she was going to let them have it all.

“I have taught myself many things here with my father’s books! I can speak and read Sindarin, I can heal many different ailments, I am a very learned Hobbit! But perhaps this will make you want to take me even less! I have heard it all, had all the old quotes used against me by family members who expected me to have mothered at least 4 young Hobbits by now; ‘when a woman has scholarly inclinations there is usually something wrong with her sexual organs.’ I’ve caught aunts trying to smuggle away some of my father’s books to prevent my learning!”

(side note, that’s a quote from Friedrich Nietzsche. I’m serious.)

She paused to catch her breath, which had quickened both from her anger and from her rapidity of speech.

“I refuse to stay in The Shire to suffer more and more unwanted offers of marriage from Hobbit men I have no intention of accepting. I refuse to limit my experiences as I am expected simply because I am in possession of a womb. If you will not accept me as one of you, I shall be coming along anyway, for I’m sure Gandalf will be accompanying you, and I shall be accompanying Gandalf!”

Her eye’s met Thorin’s, and her anger threatened to crumble and give way to embarrassment at her own outburst, but she held her ground. After a moment of silence, Thorin seemed to smile very slightly, which confused her somewhat.

“Give her a contract.” Forever Tags: @sweeticedtea @cd1242 @strongandfreedc @pixierox101 @jotink78 @luna-xial @underthemoon-n Thorin Tags: @dark-angel-is-back

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