Chapter Text
The sun was shining brightly on the Shire when Dwalin pulled off his cloak to cool down. He paused his journey for a moment, breathing in the fresh air that was so different and sweeter from the dank air he had grown used to. A family of hobbits was walking down the lane towards him – father, mother, and Mahal preserve him, eight wee hobbits skipping and laughing behind them. Dwalin tried to work his face into something pleasant; he knew hobbits were gentler than dwarves, and he didn’t want to frighten them.
Though looking a bit wary, the father bowed as he led the way past Dwalin. The mother curtseyed and the children all stopped and stared in a cluster around him, until their mother called for them to come along.
There was just something about hobbits; Dwalin couldn’t quite figure it out what it was. It was something warm and homey and comforting; all of them had it, even the little ones. There were so many little ones Dwalin could scarcely believe it. They all had bright, open faces, unfilled with mistrust and struggle like so many of his kind. Their often curly hair, homespun frocks, and cheery smiles warmed Dwalin’s heart. This whole lovely place made Dwalin long for something that he hadn’t thought of in ages – a family of his own or at least companionship.
What would it be like – to travel with a partner on their journey, instead a whole passel of dwarves, gruff, dirty, often selfish, though brave and stalwart? Dwalin knew Gandalf already had a hobbit-burglar ready to go with them, which would be interesting in itself, but he found himself wishing he could have one of his own. What an intriguing idea to take a sweet, little bride with him to take care of and be cared for by as well.
Though, he thought watching a giggling group of blushing hobbit lasses chasing a gaggle of geese, perhaps a groom would be preferable – someone bit hardier and steadier for the rough journey ahead. He hoped Gandalf knew what he was about; these hobbits hardly looked the type for a hike let alone a dangerous journey. (Never mind the seeming impossibility of one of the creatures living a life of crime.)
As Dwalin continued on his way, the thought stuck with him. He began to notice the various hobbits all about, and, hardly without meaning to, began considering them as prospects for future companionship.
A sturdy-looking hobbit male was pounding in a fence post down the lane a bit. Now there was one who looked more suited for a long journey – and was that just a bit of stubbly beard down his cheeks? It was nothing compared to even the youngest dwarves (here Dwalin gave his own regal beard a stroke), but for a hobbit, it was quite impressive. While he was considering the almost-bearded hobbit, Dwalin didn’t notice the wee hobbit lass jumping on the hobbit’s back, until she started squealing, “Daddy, Daddy, Mama wants you!” Dwalin laughed under his breath – he was married then.
Farther down the lane, he passed a group of youngish hobbits, male and female. When Dwalin passed them, some stared and some smiled, but they all were dressed in foppish lace or delicate fabric. Dwalin bowed, deciding that they were all too fancy for his taste.
The next candidate was a taller hobbit female, almost reaching Dwalin’s shoulder. She smiled broadly at Dwalin, obviously not afraid.
Dwalin grinned, leaning towards the lady. “Mornin,’ ma’am.”
“Mornin,’ Mister Dwarf,” she said with a coy bat of her eyes.
Feeling emboldened, Dwalin went on, “Nice day for marryin.’”
A hobbit boy that Dwalin had not noticed lurking near the girl, popped up and said, “That’s a right good idea.”
The girl spun towards him and threw her arms around him, “Oh, Lem! I thought you’d never ask me!”
The two kissed, and Dwalin frowned, but he was not at all deterred.
Next came a lovely hobbit male with golden curls, bright green eyes, and the sweetest blush across his cheeks that came when he smiled at Dwalin. But Dwalin kept walking; he was indeed lovely, but too slim and delicate. Shortly after him came a hobbit lass; she was a bit older, but no taller than Dwalin’s belt. Not the right size, thought Dwalin, he’s got to be just right for me.
A thunking sound caught Dwalin’s attention. Across the lane was a male hobbit chopping wood. A bit nicer dressed than one should be when chopping wood, the hobbit was working up a good sweat, his motions more enthusiastic than accurate. The hobbit was older than the others Dwalin had considered, but not too old. He was of average height for a hobbit (so quite a bit shorter than Dwalin), with sandy hair, and a determined look on his face.
While Dwalin was watching a young hobbit female, very nicely dressed, came up to the hobbit. Dwalin sighed, another married one or maybe these two were only courting and Dwalin could accidentally push them into an engagement. However, when the woman came up to the hobbit, she started scolding him. Dwalin wasn’t entirely sure what she was going on about, something to do with unsuitable work and inappropriate acquaintances and lowering oneself.
However, the hobbit’s response was clear, “Shame on you, Lobelia. There’s nothing improper about helping out a friend when they need it, even if you yourself wouldn’t invite them over for tea. Hamfast and Bell will be back tomorrow, so you only have until then to whine about it.”
Lobelia crossed her arms and sniffed, “It simply isn’t proper.”
The hobbit, waved his arms shooing her away. “Be off with you!” Lobelia glared for a bit longer, tugged her braid, and then strode away. The hobbit shook his head and chuckled, wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, and continued splitting the last bit of wood. Dwalin watched him stack most of it in a semi-neat pile, before grabbing a few logs and leaving the yard, walking down the lane.
Now that was a hobbit – kind, generous, hard-working, full of integrity, and with quite a bit of sass. Dwalin smiled. Before this moment, Dwalin had only been playing a game, amusing himself with thoughts of finding the right partner, but now that he found one, so seemingly perfect, his mad idea seemed perfect.
Now if only the hobbit hadn’t wandered off while Dwalin was pondering.
Where had his perfect hobbit gone to?