Skin Changer : A Hobbit FanFiction (Discontinued)

Kiss a Pumpkin Pasty

Ilma sat on a protruding tree root, her hands folded neatly in her lap, as she waited for Radagast to finish his conversation with Gandalf the Grey. She was carefully avoiding the curious gazes of the dwarves, her own eyes focused on a small grub squirming in the dirt below. She frowned; never in all her years had she seen the forest so ill at ease. Sickness itself was not uncommon, especially with the trees, but not something that affected plants and animals alike.

A pair of hairy toes entered her field of vision, and she followed them up to the hobbit’s nervous face. “You said your name was Ilma, correct?”

She nodded slowly, “Yes, I did.”

He stuck his hand out before him, his weight shifting anxiously. “Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Ilma smiled, some of her confidence returning. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

They clasped hands, and Bilbo seemed to have a conversation with himself before speaking, something Ilma filed away for future reference. “I’ve never seen an elf before, are they all...like you? You know,” he made an indiscernible gesture with his hands. “So white?’

She raised a brow, resisting the urge to laugh as he became even more flustered. Then she scoffed. “No, I should think not.”

He cocked his head in confusion, his mouth opening before he closed it again. “You think?”

She smiled, leaning in as if sharing a secret. “I’ve never met an elf, either.”

The poor hobbit looked even more befuddled, and Ilma had to resist the urge to laugh. “But, you are one.”

She winked, finally allowing herself a giggle. The halfling snorted, his lips twitching into an almost smile, but he cast a glance at the dwarves and it fell.

“So tell me, friend hobbit,” she continued in the hopes of lifting both his spirit and hers. “What brings you to the Greenwood?”

“Well, that’s-.”

“That is none of your business, elf.” The dwarf leader spat from where he stood leaning against a moss laden tree. He turned his icy gaze to Bilbo, “Members of this company should not be fraternizing with the enemy.”

Ilma’s eyes widened, “I am not your enemy, Master dwarf. Although,” she lowered her brows into a scowl. “You can make me one. Personally, I’d rather kiss a warg.”

A couple of the younger dwarves guffawed, but were silenced by an odd, barking call.

“Wolves?” Bilbo asked, obviously frightened. “Are there wolves in this forest?”

“Yes, there are,” Ilma answered, standing. “But that was no wolf.”

A large black warg leapt from the outcropping above them, only to be killed by a single swing of the leader’s sword. Another came at him from behind, but it was shot down. Ilma stared at their corpses for a moment, her hands at her throat, before looking to the sky.

“I’d rather kiss a pumpkin pasty!” The dwarves exchanged glances as she looked around expectantly. She sighed in resignation. “Oh well, it was worth a try.”

The two wizards came rushing over just as the dwarf leader pulled his blade from his kill. “Warg scouts,” he shouted. “Which means an orc pack is not far behind.”

“Orcs?” Ilma looked to Gandalf in accusation. “You brought orcs into my forest?”

The grey robed man did not reply, instead addressing the dwarf. “Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?”

“No one.”

“Who did you tell?”

“No one, I swear! What in Durin’s name is going on?”

Gandalf looked to all the dwarves around him. “You are being hunted.”

“We have to get out of here,” a big dwarf said.

“Yes,” Ilma agreed. “Please do, and take your orcs with you.” They glared at her, but she wasn’t overly concerned with their impression of her.

“We can’t!” A young one shouted from the outcropping. “We have no ponies, they’ve bolted.”

Well, that was just fantastic.

“I’ll draw them off,” Radagast suggested in the tone she knew meant he was seriously considering it.

“No,” she shouted, crossing the way and placing a hand on his arm. “If they catch you they’ll kill you.”

“These are Rustabell rabbits, as you well know.” A mischievous twinkle entered his eyes. “I’d like to see them try.” And with that he turned and mounted his rabbit drawn sled, clucking his tongue to wake them up. “You’d best go with Gandalf, Ilma. These parts aren’t safe anymore.”

“What?” she exclaimed, indignant. “I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“Do it for me if not for yourself,” he adjusted his mangled hat. “I’ll feel more at ease if you’re with warriors who can protect you.”

She looked over her shoulder at the dwarves who looked anxious to be leaving. She sighed heavily before turning back to the eccentric old wizard. “Alright.”

He smiled widely. “That’s my girl.” And then he was off.