In the Shadow of Mountain Kings

Dinner

"Uncle," Firiel strode into the hobbit hole, thoroughly exhausted, "I'm home."

Wiping the dirt off her lightly-haired feet, she plopped down on the front bench and slumped back against the wall. Within moments of her call, Bilbo had come pitter-pattering into the entryway. He must have seen her face, for he stopped short of reaching her, his expression immediately turning to one of concern.

"Firiel," he seemed puzzled, "Is everything alright?"

"Hm?"

Firiel looked up at her stout yet handsome uncle, giving him the best smile she could manage.

"Oh yes, everything is fine," she said, "I'm just tired is all. Busy day."

One could see on his hardened features that he didn't quite believe her lie, but Bilbo let it slide. If she wanted to talk about it, she would. He trusted that much.

"Alright then," he said, taking up the foot rag she had used from the front mat, "Would you like me to put supper on? I've done nothing but laze about all day."

"Are you sure you're up for grilling that fish?" Firiel asked, her eyes dancing playfully, "Last time you tried, it burnt."

Bilbo turned red as his favourite jacket.

"Well, this time, it won't," he shot back stubbornly, turning on his heel, "And we're having broccoli, squash, and mashed potatoes too."

Firiel chuckled, calling an obnoxious "thank you" after the little man. Then she noticed something. An envelope and letter for Bilbo, open, and discarded in the bin of fire scraps near the front. Bilbo would often bring in unwanted mail and sticks from the garden to use a kindling. She would normally have ignored it, and fully intended to, until she spotted something alarming about it. It was in her mother's handwriting. Firiel wrestled with herself. Did she want this day to get much worse?

She reached over and picked it up, careful not to rustle or disturb too much. It looked as if it had been crumpled and uncrumpled several times over, likely in a rage. It was a short letter, one page. It read:

Bilbo Baggins:

We most certainly have not "sold her off like a common broodmare", no matter what that ridiculous girl has told you! Her fiancé is a polite , well-bred gentlehobbit. Such a plain , willful child should count herself lucky we've found a man who doesn't care about her bizarre habits and hobbies. She is not as intelligent as you claim, and after this childish nonsense , has proven herself utterly incapable of making sound decisions. Her grip on reality has finally slipped , and I see your influence has been no help!

As the mother of that wayward girl, and I am not pained to remind you she is not your child, and you have no right to direct us on matters for her parents. If you'd wanted children, you should have had your own! Dinodas and I will be coming for her by the end of the month, and she will be coming home to marry. That is final . Do not make a scene, or cause a fuss, as you so intend to do. You will get nowhere with the legal proceedings you keep threatening, and my brother-in-law ( the Thane and Master of Buckland, I must remind you! ) will hear of it when Dinodas speaks to him of it.

This is your final warning.

Myrtle

Firiel read it once or twice. This was clearly not the beginning of the conversation. She could only imagine what Bilbo had said to get her mother going like that. It usually took Myrtle a few letters for her real personality to come out. A full colon, after use of a full name, meant she was in a full fit of rage. She had nearly torn through the page on some words, the ink dripping heavy with her wrath. The threats of Firiel's father coming, or using connections to his older brother, Thane Rorimac Brandybuck, were indeed very possible. However, it sounded as if Bilbo had been threatening not to give her up to them without a fight, nor was his previous letter the first time.