Differently *Fem!Bilbo/Thorin Oakenshield*

Prologue: My Dear Frodo

Prologue: My Dear Frodo 

Bella's POV

Today was my hundred and eleventh birthday and I knew now I had to tell him before I left. I had to tell him the truth about everything. I began to write a note in my book, I hadn't finished it yet but I knew what I must do. 

'My dear Frodo.

You asked me one once if I had told you everything there was to know about my adventures. Of my escapes to the lonely mountains how I came to carry such great things as an orc helmet or an elven bow. And while I can honestly say I have told you the truth, I may not have told you all of it. I am old now, Frodo. I’m not the same Hobbit I once was. I think it is time for you to know what really happened. It began long ago in a land far away to the east, the likes of which you will not find in the world today. There was the city of Dale. Its markets were known far and wide, full of the bounties of vine and vale.  This city lay before the doors of the greatest kingdom in Middle-earth: Erebor. Stronghold of Thror, King under the Mountain, mightiest of the dwarf lords. He never doubted that his house would endure, for his line lay secure in the lives of his son Thrain and grandson thorin." I began to think about him. The one and only person who would ever hold my heart.  "Ahhh, Frodo, Erebor; built deep within the mountain itself, the beauty of this fortress city was legendary. Its wealth lay in the earth, in precious gems hewed from rock, and in great seams of gold. The skill of the dwarves was unequaled, fashioning objects of great beauty out of diamond, emerald, ruby, and sapphire. They delved deeper, down into the dark. And that is where they found it. The heart of the mountain. The Arkenstone. Thror named it the King’s Jewel. He took it as a sign, a sign that his right to rule was divine. All would pay homage to him, even the great Elvenking, Thranduil.” A flash of the silvery blonde hair of the elven king came into my mind. "But Peace was far beyond anybody's thoughts. The king Thror had grown mad from dragon sickness letting the gold almost suffocate him in fear of anyone, even his loyal subjects and family stealing it. Little did Thorin know that this sickness wouldn't be the only thing to plague his family." I thought of the dragon sickness. It had taken so much away from everyone in those days, even my Thorin.  "One day a great firedrake from the north came as most dragons do determined to keep the gold for themselves.  The dwarf prince and his people were exiled from their home begging  and starving but no help came from their ally the great Elvenking. He feared losing any of his people to that mountain, and he feared what had come down that day. The prince led his people to the blue mountains seeking work where he could find it and he never forgot what had happened that day. That, my dear Frodo, is where I come in. For quite by chance, and the will of a Wizard, fate decided I would become part of this tale. It began, well, it began as you might expect. In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, full of worms and oozy smells; this was a Hobbit-hole, and that means good food, a warm hearth, and all the comforts of home.” Frodo walked in and I fell out of my trance of writing. My nephew handed me my mail. 

“Thank you.” I said and he smiled before looking at a portrait that was drawn of me many years ago by Thorin.

“What’s this?” He asked and I took it back.

“That is private. Keep your sticky paws off. It’s not ready yet.” I said.

“Not ready for what?”

“Reading.”

“What on earth are these?” I asked, looking at the letters.

"Replies to the party invitations.”

“Oh! Good gracious! Is it today?”

“They all said they’re coming. Except for the Sackville-Bagginses; they’re demanding you ask them in person.”

“Are they, indeed? Over my dead body.”
"They’d probably find that quite agreeable! They seem to think you have tunnels overflowing with gold.”

“It was one small chest, hardly overflowing. And it still smells of troll.”I began to pack away various items to keep my cousins from taking them.

“What on earth are you doing?”Frodo asked.

“Taking precautions. You know, I caught her making off with the silverware once.” I replied.

“Who?”

“Lobelia Sackville-Baggins my insufferable cousin, she was always jealous of me even in girlhood I garnered the riches, the adventure and even more love than she did. She had all my spoons stuffed in her pockets. Hah! Dreadful woman; make sure you keep an eye on her after I’m ... when I’m ...  when I’m...” I halted, I still hadn't told him I was leaving. Could I even tell him? Especially with the secrets I was writing in this book?

“When you’re...what?”Frodo asked.

“It’s nothing. Nothing.”I replied walking off.

“You know, some people are beginning to wonder about you, Aunt. They think you’re becoming odd.”

“Odd? Hmm.”

“Unsociable.”

“Unsociable? Me? Nonsense. Be a good lad and put that on the gate.” I handed him a sign that gave no admittance to the house except for business for the party. We both walked outside.

“You think he’ll come?” Frodo asked.

“Who?”I asked in reply.

“Gandalf.”

“Ahhh. He wouldn’t miss a chance to lit up his whiz-poppers! He’ll give us quite a show, you’ll see.”

“Alright then, I’m off.”

“Off to where?”

“East Farthing woods. I’m going to surprise him.”

“Well, go on then! You don’t want to be late.” I said and frodo ran off. I was sad to see him go for I knew I would still have to tell him the truth. I sat on my bench with my pipe. It wasn't very polite for young ladies of the shire to smoke but I had done it for years.
“He doesn’t approve of being late. Not that I ever was." I thought to myself, smiling. "In those days, I was always on time. I was entirely respectable. And nothing unexpected ever happened.”