Short Stories and Drabbles

Once Upon a Hobbit (OUAT/Hobbit Drabble)

Bilba padded through the corridor, nodding in greeting at various people as they passed by. She kept her head up and her back straight. Her dress, a deep silver with purple embroidered, jeweled panels, was impeccable. She'd tamed the wild curls her hair was prone to as best she could, tying them back with a purple satin ribbon and draping the entire mass over one shoulder.

For all intents and purposes she looked flawless.

She looked like a Princess.

Looked.

That was the word.

She looked like a Princess.

She turned a corner and found herself in an empty stretch of hall. Almost immediately her shoulders slumped and she leaned against the wall, one hand and her forehead against the cold stone. She wrapped her other arm around the ever increasing swell of her stomach. No one could tell her exactly how long a half hobbit, half dwarven pregnancy might last but she had still had two months to go before she was full term for a hobbit, let alone a dwarf who was usually pregnant much longer. She sincerely hoped it wouldn't go much past the nine month mark. She wasn't sure how much bigger she could handle getting without literally bursting.

"Bilba?" a familiar, concerned voice spoke just behind her. "Are you alright?"

Bilba grit her teeth and straightened. Why was it that every time she faltered, even for an instant, there was someone right there to witness it? She took a deep breath, turned and put on what she hoped was a convincing smile. "I'm fine, Fili. Just resting a moment."

He didn't look convinced. He stepped forward and held an arm out. "Why don't you sit down for a moment?"

Bilba's shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. She quietly took his arm and allowed him to guide her to one of the ornate benches that dotted the various corridors of Erebor. She sat down awkwardly, one hand on the small of her back as it protested.

Fili sat next to her, still looking worried. "Are you sure you're alright? I can call Oin."

"I'm pregnant, Fili," Bilba said dryly. "Not dying."

"I know," He settled back, clearly ready to sit beside her until he was convinced she wasn't going to spontaneously go into early labor in the hall. He was dressed in the robes and clothing befitting his rank complete with a circlet on his brow.

He didn't just look like a Prince.

He was one in every aspect.

If he'd shown up at Bag End dressed like that, along with Thorin and Kili in their regalia, complete with crowns and honor guard...would she still have treated them the same? Agreed to go with them?

She wasn't sure.

It had all been so...abstract. The Shire had no royalty. Status was based on reputation and character, followed closely by wealth. The closest thing they had to royalty were the Tooks, her own family, but none of them had ever viewed themselves, or been treated, as such. She had always had a sterling reputation, been considered above reproach and had known many others in like regard. So when the Durins had arrived she'd reacted to them as she would to a fellow Hobbit of her station and class.