Short Stories and Drabbles

Little Swan Lost

Note: Currently being written as a Modern AU with the same name. This is the original one.

"You did what?"

Bilba Baggins could only stare at her grandfather in shock, her mind struggling to comprehend what he'd just said.

Gerontius Took's expression never changed. "You will pack your bags and prepare to leave immediately. The escort will be here within the hour."

He looked down to the desk in front of him, dismissing her.

Bilba pushed out of her seat and approached him, standing before his desk. A feeling of cold rushed over her in spite of the spring temperatures and fear gripped her, so badly she started shaking. She clasped her hands in front of her, raising them in supplication. "Grandfather, you can't do this! Please!"

He ignored her, a fact she'd gotten used to in her almost thirty years of life, particularly in the last fifteen. Her mother, Belladonna, had been the light of her father's eye. She'd died in childbirth right after Bilba was born and her grandfather had blamed her for it. It had been little problem when she'd lived in Bag End with her father. Bungo had not blamed her, rather, he'd showered her with love and affection in an attempt to make up for the love her mother was unable to give her. She'd had plenty of friends and, for years, hadn't even realized she HAD other relatives, much less that they didn't much like her thanks to her grandfather.

Then the Fell Winter came and went, taking her father with it.

Still underage she'd had no choice but to go to her grandfather until she reached maturity.

"I'm thirty years old," she insisted, "I only have three more years until I reach maturity and can inherit Bag End!"

Gerontius looked at her then, his eyes cold. "And what money will you use to support yourself? All the money left to you was used in your care and upkeep, there is nothing left."

Bilba jerked as though physically slapped. Her mind went to the small, dark room she'd called home the last fifteen years, the threadbare clothing she wore even now, the housework she was forced to do to 'earn her keep'. It wasn't unusual for her to fall into bed in the early hours of the morning only to be woken up a mere two or three hours later to start breakfast.

"I have more than earned my keep," she whispered, "you cannot deny me my inheritance."

Except he could and they both knew it. He was the Thain and her legal guardian. His word was law until she reached maturity and would remain so after unless she left the Shire all together.

"I can sell Bag End..." she started to say but he cut her off.

"Bag End was a gift to your parents from me," Gerontius snapped, "and as such returned to my control after they passed. I have decided to give it to a nephew of mine, he has a large family and will see that it is put to good use." He glowered at her. "One would think you would be a little less selfish after all this time. What would you do all alone in a home so large?"

Bilba flinched, stung. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, the nails digging into her palms. Her breath came in harsh pants as her mind struggled to decide if she wanted to weep with despair or scream in rage.

She'd put up with the treatment for so long all with the belief that it would be worth it one day. That one day she'd be free to return to Bag End and live in peace without the constant judgment of her grandfather and her relatives hanging over her.

Now, in one minute, he'd stripped all of that away from her...and done far worse. And for what? Spite? Judgment? What had she done the last fifteen years but kept quiet, patiently put up with the ill treatment and caused no problems?