Hello, everyone! Thanks for checking this fic out! It's my first one for The Hobbit-I was just really interested in the dynamic a female amongst the company could bring. Please let me know what you think if you get a moment! Also, I wrote fem!Bilbo's name as being "Bilba," but I have seen "Bella" and "Billa" as well, among others. Not sure if I'll change it or not, but I'm curious to know what all of you prefer? Anyway, please enjoy!

Bilba had just settled down to enjoy her cup of tea, embroidery in one hand and a seed-cake in the other. She was comfortable enough and had plumb forgotten the unsettling event of yesterday. But once she heard a sudden rap upon her door, the memory of Gandalf's visit and her promise to tea with him this day jolted to the front of her mind. Bilba hurriedly placed another cup and saucer upon the table and set out an extra seed-cake or two. She was very annoyed with herself for having forgotten the invitation she offered, but since she hadn't written it down after their shocking encounter she couldn't have been that prone to remember it in the first place.

Bilba rushed towards the door, and prepared to apologize for making Gandalf wait on the doorstep for this long, but she cut her apology short for it was not Gandalf standing before her. It was a dwarf. She had never seen a dwarf before, but knew enough about them to know that this bearded, bulky fellow was indeed a dwarf.

The dwarf looked just as surprised to see Bilba as Bilba was to see him. She watched as he jerked his head to look at the front door, as if double-checking something, and then turned back to face her.

"…Can…can I help you?" Bilba finally mustered to ask.

The dwarf regained his bearings and offered a curt bow. "Dwalin, at your service."

Bilba was taken aback, and somehow found herself uttering the standard, proper reply. "Bilba Baggins at yours."

As if that settled things, Dwalin saw himself inside and hung his traveling hood about a wooden peg among many; there were plenty of pegs for hanging coats since Bilba was fond of visitors, but she naturally was only fond of them when she knew who they were and when they were visiting.

Bilba blinked at him. She had half a mind to send this audacious dwarf on his way. What would her neighbors say, a well-to-do hobbit like her having dealings with dwarves? But for some reason when she opened her mouth, what came out was, "It's high tea time—let me show you to the kitchen."

Dwalin was stiff and stoic, and mumbled a hasty thanks before following Bilba. She was in a daze watching a dwarf, in her very own kitchen, slurp from her very own tea cup with his soiled boots staining her very own heirloom rug. This had to be a dream, she allowed herself to think. She was woken to reality when there was yet another knock at the door.

Gandalf for sure this time, Bilba thought. He can help clear this whole mess up.

But lo and behold it was not Gandalf, and you can imagine how befuddled poor Bilba was to see that it was another dwarf.

She was met again with a surprised expression, similar to her own. This dwarf glanced her up and down before collecting himself, bowing, and saying "Balin, at your service."

Bilba quite forgot her manners this time and said, "Thank you," which is not at all the polite way to respond.

Balin shuffled his feet before deciding to enter, then up went a hood on a peg next to the other. Bilba was feeling faint from all the excitement. Two dwarves? This had to be Gandalf's doing she was sure of it, what with his talk of adventures the other day. If he ever decided to show up she would give him a piece of her mind about what she thought of his poor taste in jokes. Dwalin called out, and she motioned to Balin the direction he should follow to reach the kitchen. Once his bobbing beard turned the corner, she rested her head against the wall of her hole and closed her eyes. There's no way the dwarves came all this way without another hobbit noticing. She was sure she provided enough fuel for the Shire grapevine for weeks to come. Hobbits love to gossip, though they wouldn't ever admit to it in those terms; to them it was "keeping up with current happenings."

Another knock came at the door, but Bilba had come to expect it and half-expected it to be another dwarf. She was wrong; it was another two dwarves.

These two dwarves were similarly surprised, but offered their greeting nonetheless. "Fili and Kili at your service!"

She had had enough time to gather her wits to give an appropriate reply. "And Bilba Baggins at yours!"

"Well this is astonishing," the one named Kili grinned. "I never knew there were women in your trade."

What trade he assumed she was in, Bilba hadn't the slightest idea. But before she had a chance to ask or feel insulted, Fili and Kili popped their hoods on pegs and made their way to the commotion in the kitchen.

This was ridiculous and borderline absurd. But Bilba somehow found herself following Fili and Kili and taking orders for drinks and snacks. Between all of her dashing from her pantries to the kitchen, there had been several more knocks upon the door. Each time it was more dwarves. Now Ori, Dori, Nori, Oin, and Gloin were here to join the throng, all of them at her service and her at theirs. She bustled about arranging their comfort as the dwarves babbled amongst themselves like old friends. Bilba was tired of their shrewd glances, terrible table manners, and lack of "please and thank you," so at the next knock she felt her temper rise.

Her shock was beginning to give way to indignant anger, and she marched to her door with a flushing face and fisted hands, and jolted it open with a harsh tug. Perhaps it was a little too harsh, because the unsuspecting dwarves on the other side all toppled and landed in a heap. Gandalf stepped around them, looking quite pleased with himself. She never thought she'd be as relieved to see a wizard in her home as she was now.

"Gandalf, just what do you think…what are all…why are—"

"I know you must be busy hosting guests, Bilba, but it is rude to leave fresh visitors unwelcomed," Gandalf interjected.

He was right, of course, so she helped the dwarves up, each one pledging their services to her in turn, Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur.

The final dwarf she helped looked agitated, and rightly so for being at the bottom and underneath Bombur, who was rather large. This was a very important dwarf, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King of the Mountain, and he did not appreciate being squashed and was feeling rather haughty and not in the mood to offer a lowly hobbit his service.

"Bilba Baggins, at your service," Bilba offered. She received another look of surprise that she hardly took notice of, being conditioned to them by now. However she did notice how displeased Thorin was concerning his less than ideal entry, and she began to apologize profusely. She looked so worried and concerned that Thorin couldn't help but grumble, "Pray don't mention it," and his frown dissipated.

One of the dwarves cleared his throat. "Ms. Baggins, if you don't mind me asking, how did a lady such as yourself end up in your line of work?"

This was the second time a dwarf had referenced her nonexistent profession, so Bilba had a retort at the ready.

"I'll have you know, master dwarf—Bofur, was it?—that I bear the respected name of 'Baggins,' and am therefore under no occupation of any sort, other than being the sole titleholder and resident of Bag End."

The four dwarves exchanged questioning murmurs, and Thorin stepped forward with a mighty air, casting an accusatory glare at Gandalf. "Do you mean to say that you are not a burglar then?"

Bilba's cheeks pinched and pinked, why, a burglar! She had never felt so affronted in all her life! And she trembled trying to find words to say, but her mouth merely wagged and babbled out nonsense. All the excitement of the day was getting to her. "I think I need to sit for a bit," Bilba said before politely retiring to the parlor in her armchair.

At this point the dwarves that had been clustered in the kitchen all bounded into the hall to pay their cents on the matter. Talk broke out all at once about the dangers of the quest, it being no place for a lady, and besides they needed a professional burglar not some unknown novice. They thought their voices low and secretive, but dwarves are always louder than they mean to be and Bilba heard every word. She sunk deep into the cushions and did not pretend to understand any of what they were saying about "quests." She also tried not to worry about her mangled doilies, trampled carpets, and emptying pantries. Confound those dwarves and confusticate their dwarvish business! Bilba was all the more flustered by it. Burglar, indeed! Although part of her, perhaps the Took side, wanted to join them and their adventures and treasure hunts.

"I think she'll just be a distraction, in more ways than one if you feel me," Dwalin said.

"Now how can that be a distraction? It's a contribution in my book," Kili confessed with a wink.

"This could be one of the most venerated journeys in all of dwarvish history! We shouldn't take any unnecessary risks with our path already being perilous enough!" said Dori.

"Beggars can't be choosers—we need a burglar, lady or not," Balin reasoned.

"She looks more like a housewife than a burglar," said Gloin. The other dwarves laughed aloud and nodded in agreement.

Bilba puffed at this remark, for it made her sound old and dowdy. She might have reached fifty years, but for hobbits fifty was a perfectly normal age to just begin familial proceedings, certainly not old enough to be designated as a "housewife." Bilba was still at her prime, though slightly matured from her more mischievous tween ages between twenty and thirty-three. It was needless to say that she did not appreciate what these dwarvish men were implying. Her Tookish side would not have this, and perhaps this is what led her to put her foot in.

She heaved herself out of her armchair and did one of the most Tookish things she had done in a long while—interrupt a conversation without excusing herself.

"I don't catch your intention with all this 'burgling' business, but I am right in believing that you think I am no good. Well, I was skeptical when you all appeared on my doorstep, but I treated you with hospitality and let you into my home, when no dwarf has stepped foot in here before. What I'm getting at is I'm willing to adapt, so tell me what you want done and I will try it. Why, my great-great-great-grand-uncle Bullroarer Took once fought in the—"

Gloin waved this aside, "Yes, yes, but that was long ago! We're talking about you and now. I can't imagine this lass traipsing about in a dragon horde, skipping past flames and wielding daggers."

To be honest, Bilba couldn't imagine this either, but she already picked her stance and wasn't about to back down now. Before she could say anything though, Gandalf frowned at her till she shut her mouth with a snap. He had been silent throughout this and let the dwarves have their say, but he didn't think he could bear their stubbornness any longer.

"Did you or did you not ask me to find the fourteenth member of your company? I say that it's Bilba, but if you don't want her, go off on your venture with thirteen and face all the bad luck you like." He scowled at all the dwarves, daring them to argue, but they all remained silent. "Then it's settled. Bilba is your burglar, or a burglar she will be when the time comes. She has a great deal more to offer than any of you (even herself) might guess."

Before anyone could press Gandalf to explain himself further, he exclaimed that he was hungry from traveling and would love a good supper and a glass of red wine if you'd please, Bilba. The dwarves chimed in with similar sentiments, even the ones that had been snacking, and they shooed Bilba off to prepare something, venison if she had any.

Still feeling slightly out of sorts with the burgling matter, Bilba blinked around at her pantry, not exactly sure what she had gotten herself into. All she knew was that these dwarves were strumming her last nerve with their rude behavior, and she muttered under her breath while cutting carrots for a stew. She definitely wasn't going to waste one of her best recipes on them, so a simple fish soup would have to suffice. Some rosemary rolls and apple slices would complement the meal nicely, she mused.

Bilba had just finished braising the fish to add to the pot when raucous laughter erupted from her parlor, and she just shook her head. It wasn't that she wanted to join those ruffians, but they were completely excluding her! The hostess! And were not making a single effort to assist her in any shape or form! Dropping a bag of potatoes and sending them sprawling every which way was the straw that broke her composure.

"Curse and bebother those dwarves! Why don't they lend me a hand?" Bilba slapped a hand across her mouth, ashamed and hoping that none of them had heard. Apparently they had, for Balin and Dwalin swiftly appeared and began picking up potatoes and dicing them crudely. Bilba squeaked out a "thank you," getting grunts in return. It was uncomfortable working together, and nothing was said other than directions, but with two extra pairs of hands dinner was ready in no time flat. The smell of the fish soup wafted through the air, coaxing drool out of the dwarves' mouths—just because it wasn't one of Bilba's best recipes doesn't mean that it wasn't worthy of a red ribbon or two.

"Alright everyone, line up here to serve yourselves and gather at the dining table!" Bilba called out. She needn't have said it twice, for in a flash the dwarves were all jumbled together, elbowing each other out of the way. Of course Thorin went first without question, but the others were performing small feats of sabotage to be a dwarf ahead in the procession. Bilba laughed behind her hand at this and assured them that there was enough for all. There was nothing that could put a hobbit in a better mood than seeing enthusiasm for their cooking.

Bilba waited for the dwarves before serving a bowl of stew for herself and Gandalf, then carried them both to her dining room. She was intrigued to see that all the dwarves were waiting for her (albeit anxiously) to start eating. The gesture touched her, but with the multitude of furtive glares that were being cast at Gandalf she knew that it must have been a firm recommendation of his. She thanked them sincerely nonetheless, and took a seat between Bofur and Dori. Everyone began to reach for spoons and to toss around the basket of rosemary rolls, but something about the table setting seemed off to Bilba…and she just couldn't place her finger on what. Then it hit her. She had guests over and no flowers on the table! Oh, how obtuse of her!

"Wait, wait!"

Everyone panicked—soup was sputtered, curses were thrown, daggers were reached for. Bilba didn't catch the rest of the commotion though, for she had already dashed out the front door to her garden and furiously began picking mayflowers. Luckily she had just pruned them that morning! The flowers held a special meaning of welcome, and it was her signature to have a bouquet of them for when she had guests over to dine. To not would be an insult for all! She had only enough for a modest vase-full, but the vase was a crystal one of her grandmother's so she deemed that it added character. Bilba primly returned, mayflowers in hand, and almost dropped them all when she saw the scene before her.

The dwarves were all in a tizzy. Thorin was barking orders, others were coughing and hacking while yelling about being poisoned, and weapons were at the ready as they all shouted "what happened to that dratted hobbit?" During all this, Gandalf was quietly sipping on soup and smiling as he looked on. She gave him an incredulous stare before hitching up her skirt and making a loud show of plopping the vase onto the center of the table. All noise ceased at once and everyone's eyes snapped to her. Startled, Bilba was now very conscious of the soil on her hands and tried to rub it away.

"I…I brought in some flowers from my garden. Now that the table is in order you can return to your dinners," she said weakly.

Bombur was happy to oblige, but stopped short when no one else followed suit.

Thorin looked moderately enraged, but he leveled his voice the best he could. "You shriek about halting the meal, leading us all to believe there must be a plot of poison afoot, then you vanish without another word and reappear with…daisies?"

"Mayflowers," Bilba unwittingly corrected.

Thorin closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. "Fine, mayflowers then." He took a deep breath before continuing in a severe tone. "You do recognize the alarm caused by your unnecessary outburst, do you not?"

Heat pricked Bilba's cheeks. A company of hobbits would understand her "outburst," and in fact join her with a few choice exclamations of their own. It would seem that this was not so with a company of dwarves; they are much more on their guard and have greater things to fear than an absent bouquet.

"I…I apologize. I wanted to make you feel properly welcomed." Bilba was hoping that this would soften their glares, but it did nothing of the sort.

"How are we to expect a burglar to burgle when she has episodes like this?!" challenged Dwalin. He was of course directing this to Gandalf.

"Nonsense, Master Dwalin. Bilba is merely excited, that is all."

"What if she is to get 'excited' while right under the dragon's nose? Her girlish squeals would awaken the beast and send us all to fiery graves!" Oin piped up.

Bilba was feeling her knees give way, what with the mention of a "dragon" and a terrible demise. Just what sort of adventure is this? And had she really agreed to it?

Gandalf sighed. "We'll set this straight. Bilba, will you do any screaming of any sort around the dragon?"

Bilba, wide-eyed, shook her head, curls flicking across her face as she did so.

Gandalf stared them all down to ensure no one questioned her. "There, see? Now let's put this behind us and enjoy the delightful meal Bilba has prepared."

Most of the dwarves were not convinced, but they begrudgingly sat down and had their moods greatly lightened once they tasted the stew.

"It's especially good when you crumble the rolls in it!" Ori guaranteed.

"Na, I prefer to dip," Nori said, drowning his bread in the creamy broth.

Though they all enjoyed the meal, Bilba did not enjoy their manners. She was absolutely disgusted and downright repulsed by the all the smacking, slurping, chugging, and elbows-on-the-table resting. And not even a napkin in the lap! She pretended to not mind in the slightest, but when a stray piece of half-chewed trout landed on her hand, she visibly shuddered.

Her patience was tested all the more even after dinner was finished. Not a dredge of soup remained (though the apples were untouched) and only crumbs littered the table. It was then that she mentioned "washing up," and the dwarves all shared mischievous grins.

"Oh don't fret, lass! We'll take care of that for ya!" Bofur said, stifling giggles.

Silverware soaring through the sky, bowls balancing on heads, plates cascading from the rafters to land in expectant hands—it was enough to put Bilba over the edge! She fretted and pleaded at them to be more careful, but they all just burst into song, the nasty little buggers. They actually carried a catchy tune, but Bilba was far too distressed to care to join in, for the words dealt with smashing her bottles, chipping her plates, and a bunch of other horrid vandalisms.

They finished, with clean dishes piled high and nary a scratch in sight. Bilba had tugged her hair into knots and was relieved to see they hadn't carried out the horrible deeds they sang of. The dwarves were all laughing heartily and admiring their handiwork, but Bilba simply sniffed at them.

"Ah, come now Missus Boggins! Think of this as repayment for the fright you gave us earlier," Kili teased.

Bilba flushed at this and mumbled that she supposed it was fair if you took that into consideration. Still, she wasn't quite ready to forgive their unsightly table manners.

Thorin cleared his throat to call everyone at attention. He stood tall and proud, and Bilba shrunk under his steeled gaze. "We have dark business to attend to. Gandalf gathered us all here at the hafling's for a reason, so let's hear what he has to say."

Gandalf bowed his head reverently. "Bilba, if you could fetch a light for us please. I have something I need to show you all."

There we go, chapter one! Thanks for reading! Based on feedback, I might actually continue writing this. The thought of having Bilbo be female always interested me ever since I first read the book seven years ago, and now I'm finally writing down some thoughts, haha. Who'da thunk I'd still be just as obsessed?