Chapter Text
Billa Baggins, daughter of the great adventurer Belladonna Baggins, chided the book in her hand as she walked up to the bookcase where it was supposed to be.
“Young man, I shall not have you wandering around anymore! Why is it that I always find you in the Mythology and Lore section Mister Lectures on Invertebrate Palaeontology?”
She rose on the balls of her feet to put in the right place but found herself unable to reach the distance. Still, it was only a few scant inches away and so without any further thought, she found a foothold on the lower shelves and reached up to put it in. It was something she did often, given that she was a Baggins her feet were always immaculate and she always made sure they never touched a single book. She’d done this a million times but unlike the other times she was a bit distressed at that moment having just received a particularly depressing letter and consequently shoved the book in with a bit too much force and leaned against it more than she should have.
And as if her day could not have possibly gotten any better, the bookshelf toppled over, taking her along with it and the other two in that row. It made a loud racket, so loud in fact that the curator, Mr Elrond came rushing in, worried.
“Miss Baggins!” He said in much the same tone she had used on the book just a few seconds ago. “What is the meaning of this?!”
“Umm-I-uh.”
“Straighten up this mess immediately!” Elrond said, his eyes flashing and he swept out. Billa’s head fell down and she began to rebuke herself by hitting her head over and over again on the book that had begun this whole problem. Unfortunately the title was written in tiny stones and it wasn’t long before she stopped those actions, an imprint of ‘Palaeo’ stamped into her forehead.
A good few hours later (half her work day in fact) she found herself standing like a child being dressed down in front of a pacing Elrond.
“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” Billa said, prostrating herself before Elrond could say anything. She was sure she looked rather pathetic, her usually neatly tied copper curls were in disarray and there were cobwebs in it, the glass of her spectacles almost matching the burnished gold of the frame under the thick layer of dust and askew on her nose which was red from sneezing and her hands had more paper cuts than she even believed humanly possible and her clothes had more folds and creases than the most complex pieces of origami. Yes, she must have looked quite pathetic indeed. But it must have been even worse than she thought because instead of the reprimand she was expecting Elrond sighed instead.
“Is something the matter Billa?”
“Oh I wouldn’t say it’s a problem as much as it is a bit...distressing.” She pouted for a brief moment before squaring her jaw determinedly. “But I promise it won’t distract me from my work anymore.”
“That’s not what I asked. When I took you on as the librarian here, I was well aware that you might not be the adventurer that Belladonna was-“ Elrond spoke so kindly but that feeling of inadequacy that often reared its head when her mother was mentioned had Billa wilting, “but you weren’t inefficient in the least. Now why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
“I got a letter regarding my application from Arda University.” She answered reluctantly, keeping her eyes on the balcony above. If they were blinking furiously and a bit shiny then it was only because of the dust, truly.
“And?”
“And Saruman says that there is no place for me in any capacity in any current or planned expeditions and to try again later.”
“I see. Well you know no matter what there will always be a place for you here.”
“I know. Thank you for that.” She smiled before shaking herself out of it. “I’m just going to go sort out and label the new shipment of artefacts.”
A model of the Vingilote crafted from Mithril complete with little oars was taking up most of her time. It had to be dissembled, every component noted and then put back together again. She was just through oar number four fifty three when a clatter caught her attention. Billa looked up suspiciously but also a bit scared. The storeroom was filled with boxes, all of different sizes and stacked in ways that created a labyrinth where all noises were amplified and resounded. She put the ship down packing it in the box, separating the counted items and uncounted into sections and on silent feet began investigating. In the dark of the room, only barely illuminated by candles, everything seemed eerie and even the shadows had shadows.
“Mister Elrond? Lindir, is that you?” No answer came and she relaxed figuring that whoever it was, had gone away. She turned to return to her work and shrieked when a tall figure smoking a pipe appeared a few millimetres away from her face. “Oh my God, Gandalf! What are you doing?!”
“No good morning this time, dear?”
Billa rolled her eyes, ignoring Gandalf’s teasing. “Haha very funny, unfortunately it is not a good morning, it is not a morning to be good on and I don’t really care if you have a good morning!”
“My dear, whatever is the matter?” Her adopted brother asked as she sat down at her work table and sulked. She began removing the parts of the ship from the box and resumed with the job only keeping half her eyes on Gandalf.
She tried to maintain her silence but it wasn’t long before everything came tumbling out.
“The Arda scholars rejected my application, they said I don’t have enough experience in the field to be going with them on field expeditions and guess how I’m supposed to get more field experience?”
“By going on field expeditions?”
“Yes, by going on the very same expeditions that I can’t go on because I don’t have any experience in them.” Her lower lip jutted out and her eyes were becoming curiously shiny but with a twist of her nose and a bit of frowning she returned her face to its usual blankness.
“Well. At least you’ll always have me.” Gandalf said, a wide grin on his too young yet too old face and she cracked a grin at that.
“Oh, and that’s such a consolation, is it?”
“Well if that isn’t then perhaps you’ll prefer what I’ve gotten for you instead.”
“A present? You know I don’t like those little trinkets you’re bringing in, honestly what am I supposed to do with-“She trailed off as, instead of a trinket, he presented her with a little box of gold with ancient Khuzdul runes etched into it in mithril. The hats he brought her from the far off lands he visited were lovely if useless in the pleasant mild of Rivendell and the earrings although pretty meant nothing to her unpierced ears but in this one little thing, Gandalf had just made up for years of terrible presents
The instructions were clear to her, well versed in ancient Khuzdul as she was and she twisted the little thing gently at the almost invisible seams to reveal an old piece of parchment. Billa put away the box to the side and opened the folds of the map delicately and with trembling hands. Shaking fingers came to her mouth to suppress the little cry of joy as she read the words written on it.
‘Here lies the Lonely Mountain.’
Erebor.