Bilbo Baggins walked slowly next to the cart that carried her mother, Belladona, down the road from Bree, every so often glancing at the flowers that grew sporadically on the side of the road. She took after her mother in looks, especially with the long curly brown hair that she usually wore in braided bun to keep it out of the way. Though she was never without a multitude of rebellious strands that fought to tickle her cheeks no matter how many pins she tried to tame them with.

"Bilbo," her father, Bungo, called quietly to get her attention and Bilbo turned to look at him with the pale, green-gray eyes that he often compared to his own mother's, never mind his own.

"You should pick some for your mother," her father told her quietly from the box of the carriage, "They might make her feel better." Bilbo grinned at the idea and race off, acting more like a fauntling than a hobbit merely two years from her majority. The small family had traveled to Bree to get various metal tools fixed by the blacksmith, as Hobbiton's had died when Bilbo was around ten and no one else had shown an interest in the trade. Unfortunately the trip had proven to be too much for Belladona, who had just recently overcome a rather nasty illness that had kept the normally active hobbit confined to her room. She gathered a small bunch of the small white flowers from the edge of the road before venturing towards the tree line.

"Don't go too far Bilbo," Bungo called.

"I'll walk along side," Bilbo said with a wave and wandered just behind the first group of trees where flowers grew more prominently, away from the dangers of the crushing wheels of passing carts. She was so distracted by finding the most beautiful flowers for her mother that she almost missed the crashing of footsteps coming from deeper in the forest, the ones that seemed to be heading right for her. Seconds before she could cry out for her father, a young dwarf stumbled into the small clearing she'd found for herself. At least Bilbo thought it was a dwarf, she was relying mostly on the knowledge she'd pulled from books to help her identify the creature that was staring at her with a dumbfounded expression. From what Bilbo could tell, which wasn't much, he looked to be the dwarven equivalent of her own age and Bilbo wasn't sure which of them was more surprised at the sudden appearance of the other, but from the way the dwarf was fearfully clutching the small bundle of cloth to his chest, Bilbo assumed he was. He had copper hair that had been artfully braided away from his face until there were three plaits leading from the edge of his face that gathered into one long seven strand braid and just the beginnings of a beard coming in.

A sudden cry from within the bundle startled both of them and the dwarf actually jumped back a few feet, before he scrambled forward again.

"You're a hobbit," he stated distracting Bilbo from her curiosity toward the contents of the bundle, and though Bilbo knew she should probably be much more afraid than she was, she nodded and curtsied.

"Bilbo Baggins," she told him politely, proud that her voice barely waivered, "at your service."

"I've been told your people would never turn away one in need. Is that true?" He looked so desperate that Bilbo couldn't answer for a moment, and wasn't even put off by him refusing to give her his name in return, collecting herself only when she saw his hopeful expression start to fall.

"It certainly is for the Baggins family," she told him primly, secretly delighting in the wide beaming smile she got in return before his face became solemn once again.

"I must ask a great deal of you Mistress Baggins," he told her gravely, and though he hadn't drawn the weapon Bilbo felt her heart speed up at the very real possibility of danger. However, the young dwarf didn't draw his weapon like she expected and instead peeled away the top layer of the bundle. Bilbo gasped and cooed when a tiny infant dwarf with ginger hair was revealed, "I need a safe place to hide him." Bilbo looked up in confusion, unsure as to what could possibly be a danger to such a small and unthreatening thing.

"Whatever for?" She asked him and the dwarf sighed, suddenly looking much older than Bilbo suspected his age to be.

"My Uncle is the eldest son of his line," he told her, "and as such is entitled to inherit a title and sizable fortune after his father's death. My father is the younger son and will receive a mere pittance, which he was content with at first as my uncle had no children placing my father second in succession. I firmly believe now that my father has always planned to orchestrate an accident for his brother, but a few years ago my uncle married and only a few months ago my aunt and uncle were blessed with this little one." He looked down at the baby with such adoration and love that Bilbo might have thought they were at least brothers at the least had she not heard the truth already, but instead she felt her stomach turn at the implication his words had.

"Something happened to his parents, didn't it," she asked hesitantly. She wasn't positive that the child was a boy, but she refused to call a baby it, even in her mind. The dwarf nodded grimly and opened his mouth to continue his tale, only to snap his jaws shut and lower himself into a protective crouch at Bungo's concerned call.

"Bilbo!"

"It's alright," she hurried to assure the dwarf, who only relaxed moderately, "It's only my father. I swear he wouldn't do anything to harm either of you." At the dwarf's hesitant nod, she answered her near panicking father.

"Over here papa," she called, waiting for the moment Bungo would break through the thin underbrush. When he did, he immediately stiffened upon seeing the unknown, and armed, dwarf so close to his daughter. Bilbo could see Bungo's eyes darting around for the nearest escape route he could drag her too and hurried to assure him, "He needs our help." Bungo moved closer, hesitantly, and calmed a little when his eyes lit upon the now squirming infant in the dwarf's arms. At the gentlehobbit's encouraging nod , the dwarf resumed his tale.

"I failed to save my aunt and uncle," he told her, pain evident in his eyes, "my father made it appear as if our party was set upon by Orcs, but told me to take him away since an Orc would never pass on a feast of newborn flesh. There's no way to conceal him for the final leg of our journey, and even if there was, my father would only find some way to murder him in his cradle. " The bitterness and hate in his voice made the two hobbits wince, and sympathy to grow in their hearts. Without thinking to confer with her father, Bilbo stepped forward and held out her arms for the tearing dwarf. He just stared at her for a moment, looking very much like a lost little boy, before his crumpled into her arms and wept. Bilbo shushed him as best she could and glanced at her father, who headed back to the cart with a decisive nod.

"If he needs a safe home," he whispered to the sobbing dwarf, "he's found it with us." The dwarf pulled away to look at her with shining eyes and quickly dropped his eyes, humbled by the pure kindness he saw there. Bungo appeared a moment later carrying a fresh blanket.

"We certainly have the room," he told the dwarf, "and your mother's already in a tizzy about having her first grandbaby." Bilbo giggled at the idea of her mother in a tizzy, but her father's words certainly had an impact on the dwarf. His breath audibly caught and he placed a lingering kiss on the child's forehead before he reluctantly placed him in Bilbo's waiting arms. The boy, a fact that was made abundantly clear when he decided that releasing his bladder was a good way to greet his new mother, looked up at Bilbo with large, lovely brown eyes and smiled. Bilbo was instantly smitten with her new son and only vaguely heard what the dwarf was telling her father.

"I saved this," he said, handing Bungo a large silver pendant and chain, "It belonged to his mother, so he can find the rest of his family should he ever choose."

"We'll make sure he knows where he came from," Bungo swore as he tucked the exquisite piece of jewelry safely into his pocket.

"What's his name?" Bilbo whispered without taking her eyes away from the child in her arms, smiling softly when he reached for the flyaway curls surrounding her face. The dwarf smiled at the sight.

"Ori," he told her, "Son of Ri."