17 The Free Peoples (I)

One does not simply walk into a hole in the ground.

Not if they're not a hobbit and expect to come out with any sort of decorum, as Nori, son of Bori, got to learn first-hand on the late eve of 27 April, year 2941 of the Third Age under the Sun.

Yes, Nori the dwarf could rightly claim to have become the most experienced of his peers in matters such as this. The half-dozen mini-hobbits made for an only mildly-bemusing sight as they scurried out of the Great Smials of Tookland through one of the many exits, never mind that it was the middle of the night or that most of them could more rightly be said to have torn, trotted, tumbled, trampled, tripped or tussled as they ran like Bauglir himself was on their heels. But the same could not be said about a dwarf tearing out the round door after them and trying to lunge for small, round and scraggly-haired only to stub his toe on the threshold, lose his footing when the welcome mat slipped from under his feet, stagger sideways with a muffled curse, trip on the porch lantern while swearing in Khuzdul, trip again on the knee-high fence just to the right of the porch and fall beard-arseways in the flower garden, ending his ill-fated dash from the bowels of the Great Smials by most ingloriously faceplanting into a forsythia bush.

Forsythia. A yellow-blossomed shrub meaning anticipation.

He had drunk entirely too much.

As he groaned and rolled to his back onto the footpath bordering the various flowerbeds, Nori had to take a moment to mentally gawk at the fact that he could actually recognize the plant by sight, and apply meaning to it to boot. He supposed that's what he got for letting himself be roped into having a (very) late supper with the Shire ruling family. As if he didn't already feel terribly out of place as the only dwarf among over a dozen hobbits (and those were only the ones in the room with him), this just had to turn out to be one of those dinners where people (specifically Bilbo Baggins and Isumbras Took) had a conversation within another conversation, making him feel even more out of place than normal, even as he tried to puzzle out whatever pieces would be useful to Thorin (and Ori) later. Hobbits sure were a garrulous bunch. And then, Mahal curse him, he just had to try and find something to distract himself with from the passive-aggressive conversation regarding some Hobbit prince-related "matter" between Bilbo Baggins and his ki-er, Thain-uncle (and, maybe, prevent him from trying to filch something of significance without noticing). That only let him open to being figuratively pounced on by the Thain's wife who proceeded to "make it all better for him, you'll see, never you worry dear," once Nori made the mistake of telling her he didn't know anything about agriculture, gardening and the meaning of flowers.

A discussion that somehow segued into talking about hobbit genealogies. Mahal, did they like their genealogies. Almost as much as they liked their pipeweed, although considering that they'd spent hundreds of years refining their various strains, they at least were entitled to that particular taste. Nori felt like he could recite half the Took family tree from memory, and even point out the more important parts, like how the forsythia bush he'd faceplanted in had been, well, planted by Mirabella took, sister of the current Thain and youngest daughter of Gerontius "The Old" (here the conversation wandered into details about the Old Took's 12 children and their various fathers, mothers, spouses and siblings-in-law) from seeds sent over from the Grey Havens by Isengar Took, the Old Took's youngest child who'd run off west at Gandalf's prompting some time ago and never returned. Last they'd heard of him, a long, long time ago, he was, apparently, too busy trying (and failing in most embarrassing fashion, seemed like) to catch up on the several thousand years' worth of shipbuilding knowledge possessed by Círdan the Shipwright, and even working on designing some ships himself, if it could even be called that. "He was complaining about how hard it was to find wood that doesn't float, my brother-in-law, can you imagine?" Dilwen Took nee Proudfoot (the Thain-esse, or whatever the term was?) had told Nori as she handed him his fourth scone while fanning herself absently. "Sometimes I wonder if everything worthwhile in that head of his was blown out through his ears. Wood that doesn't float indeed! What use is a ship that doesn't stay afloat? Tooks! They can't manage without traveling so far from the Shire that they lose all their good hobbit sense! Dreadfully sad business and no mistake."

"(Hey, you think he's dead?)"

"(Course not! He's a dwarf! Dwarf heads're hard! Everyone says so!)"

"(Yeah!)"

"(But what if he is?)"

"(He ain't!)"

"(But what if he is!?)"

"(Quiet! You wan'im ter hear us?)"

"(Won't hear nothin' if he's dead-)"

"He's NOT dea-AAAAYYE!"

The little nugget squealed in shock as Nori jumped him – served the little bugger right for wandering so close! – but that little fright was not enough to soothe the thief's pride.

"NOOOOO!" Adelard Took wailed dramatically. "Help! HELP! He's got me! Kidnapper! Hobbit-snatcher! I've been caught by a big, bad, hairy, ugly-"

"Who're you calling ugly, you little sockpuppet!" Nori roared and rolled over the mini-hobbit and poked him in the ribs.

"Gya!" The confirmation received that hobbits were as ticklish as any dwarf, Nori proceeded to tickle him with as much leniency as he'd been shown by the scamp and his co-conspirators when they made off with his left boot. Which was to say, none at all. "Nnngi-hihihihi!" Thus did Tiny Hobbit the Little, First of His Name, break into giggles precisely as helpless as the dwarf had expected.

"U-un-unhand him, b-beastie!" Cried Paladin Took the Even Littler. "F-Fie!" The little tyke – less than 10 summers old if Nori was any judge – started whacking him with a little, frail stick. "F-Fie! Fie! Fie!"

"Ow! Aye, aye aye!" Nori yelled, because why not? The brats were asking for it! "Oh woe! I've been sniffed out by a bunch of wet-nosed pups!"

"Who's'e calling wet-nosed!?"

"Fie! Foes! Fire!"

"Fie! Foes! Fire! Awake!"

"Oy! Lay off with that!"

"Don't shout that, are you nuts?"

"You want everyone to think the Horn of Buckland's been called? What are you, stupid?"

"I'll show you stupid!" An impromptu wrestling match ensued.

Just as planned of course. Now if only the rest of these little buggers-

"Casualties of treachery!" Short and pudgy yelled, whacking at him with yet another stick. "Get the evildoer! Get'im! Hit'im again!"

"Oh for… You're both dumb as a doornail!" Cried out plump and sleepy at the two that had rolled over each other and crushed the nearby row of narcissus in their ongoing wrestling bout. "And we ain't dogs!" Pause. "Are we?"

"Some hunters have dogs…I guess?" Scraggly-hair wondered dubiously.

"What hunters? I though' we was playing knights'n'beasties?"

"We 'were playing'-"

"'Was' playin,' 'cos we're s'posed t'be from old days when people didn't know how ter talk proppa."

"Knights did know how to talk proppa, you-"

Seeing the general state of distraction in his foes, Nori decided it was a perfect time to escape.

…

Nah.

He tickled his prisoner even harder

"Nu-huhuhuhhihi-stop-s-stop hiiii-hihihihim!"

"Egad! We forgot about the fearsome were-worm!"

Were-worm?

"Ack! It's gone berserk it has!"

"Gasp!" Floppy-cheeks 'gasped.'

"Get'im!" Whack.

"Down with the beast!" Crash.

"For the Shire!" Five hobbits dogpiled him at once.

Nori groaned and 'collapsed' on top of little Adelard.

"Awk!" the 'prisoner' groaned. "Stop! 'E's crushin' me!"

"Yes, I'm crushing him," Nori rattled tragically from where he was 'trapped' by the valorous knights of old. "At it's all your fault! Seriously, what is wrong with you people?"

"Don' listen to'im! Bring'im down before it's too late!"

"WHAT!?" Adelard squeaked, gaping up at Nori in disbelief.

"But'e's already down!" Some sanity, finally.

"They're both down."

"They've been down all this time, geez!"

"Men! Honestly!"

"Frogbaskets! What'll we do? What'll we DO!?" Finally the right question. Why, Adelard might even survive long enough to-

"We dig a hole!"

What.

"We dig a hole!"

"Not just a hole! We dig a tunnel!

"A tunnel that goes right under the begonias!"

"A tunnel that goes all the way to the pantry!"

"A tunnel that goes all the way to the pantry so we can eat and build up our strength for the epic final battle!"

"Only we'll have to build it from the other end to take'im by surprise!"

"Then we build another one!"

"We can build a whole new smial! Then when we rescue the distressed prince, we can hide'im too!"

"Brilliant!

"Capital idea!"

What in Mahal's ever-flaming beard?

"Start digging!"

"Yeah!"

"Dig!"

"Yeah!"

"Onwards!"

"Where!?"

"To dig, duh!"

"With what?"

"A trowel!

"A spade!"

"A shovel!"

"A pick!"

"A pickaxe!"

"No!" A hobbit lad held up Nori's boot triumphantly. "We use this!"

Stunned silence descended upon the garden and the gang, for a moment.

But only a moment.

"Genius!"

"We use the beast's own weapon against it!"

"We'll dig!"

"We'll drill!"

"Dredge!"

"Gouge!"

"Scoop!"

"Search!"

"Shovel!"

"Sift!

"BURROW!" The mass of fauntlings all together howled, and the poor night owl roosting on top of the lamp post flew away in fright, hooting off into the night.

The night fell still and silent after that, as the youngsters gave a deep, satisfied sigh under the moonlight.

Then…

"TO THE PANTRY!"

With that last, unified warcry, the mini-hobbits promptly disappeared back into the hole from whence they came.

And from their place on the ground, Nori and Adelard Took stared after the disappearing throng, aghast.

What.

What?

"What in Mahal's forge just happened?"

"Um-"

Nori's heart almost stopped and he spun his head to the right.

Paladin Took stood there, hunched on himself and clutching his stick for dear life. "Can… can I be the distressed prince next time?"

The thought came and went that the far, far too quiet Paladin Took owed his life to the fact that Nori's hands were already full with another hobbit, but then the Dwarf saw those large, shiny doe eyes and felt rather like he should be having a flashback of a totally different type.

Then he all but collapsed next to Adelard Took as his deep-bellied, uncontrollable laughter took him.

Days of trudging amidst beady stares and wrinkled noses. Days of not realizing there were always at least twice as many eyes about. Days under scrutiny by those big, wide, child-like eyes. A feast fit for kings he didn't remember with a hobbit he will never be able to not remember. An attempt to spy that he remembered even less, and what may as well have been a one-night stand with one or however many pigs before being dragged across the neighborhood and tucked into bed like an addled child, only to wake up and feel half-way between trapped and addled after that. Six parts unruffled and half a dozen parts uneasy, for hours upon hours upon hours. Hours upon hours of gawking, sneaking, walking, following, watching and listening to the subtle sounds of life inside an underground grove of light. Hours upon hours of gawking, sneaking, walking, following, watching and listening to hobbits talking without talking while talking without talking, making him feel as if there were several conversations going on at once while neither was taking place at all. Because the one who'd dragged him half-way across the Shire couldn't be bothered to go through whatever social motions were obviously expected and instead dryly chided the king of the Shire over the latter's pigheadedness involving some capital-M Matter Nori still had no idea about. Hours upon hours of following, gawking, watching and listening and trying, trying, trying and failing to figure out what the hell he was supposed to make of these hobbits.

And it took getting unintentionally embroiled in a children's game to make him realize that there wasn't any point to trying to make anything of hobbits at all.

Nori, son of Bori, laughed himself sick and collapsed to the side, tired and drained even as his laughter came unceasing, and he snatched Paladin Took and hugged him before the lad's quivering lip had the chance to boil the rest of the way into the Runaway Ori Special. All the while, he laughed. Even as Paladin half-heartedly squirmed in his hug, even as Adelard tackled him and nearly brained himself on his elbow, the dwarf just laughed.

"There lad!" He gasped some time later. "You're the distressed prince and you're in my grasp." The dwarf rolled onto his back and held the giggling tyke up, silhouetted against the moon. "Now how would you like to commit treason?"

"Yeah!" Two high-pitched voices crowed with glee in the night.

Then Nori couldn't help it and just broke down again and laughed. Laughed and laughed.

And laughed

Little wonder he couldn't figure out what to make of these earthnuts.

Hobbits one and all were just plain, completely nuts!