A passion for Mushrooms

Friendly Confessions

The first time Bilbo Baggins remembered meeting Lady Dis, he thought she was a nurse. To be fair, he opened his eyes in a clean sickroom with white linen sheets. He knew he was in Dale because the morning sun was shining on a bell tower clearly visible from his window. It was a little cloudy, but otherwise a nice enough day. The mystery was why Bilbo would be in a sickroom in Dale at all.

Bustling quietly about the room was a dwarven woman in a light blue dress. Rolling bandages, folding blankets, straightening bottles on the end table, and doing a number of other small tasks, she paced around the outer edge of the room, never glancing at Bilbo. After a few minutes of this, he gave a polite cough.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a cup of tea?”

She looked up at him in surprise. “Master Baggins, you’re awake.”

“Indeed, my good woman, and incidentally quite ravenous. Did I miss breakfast?”

Cocking her head to one side she said, “I’m sure something could be arranged.”

“Excellent, excellent,” he said, just remembering to call a thank you after her as she went to fetch him something.

In a few minutes he had a lovely hot cup of tea and a bowl of porridge with chopped mushrooms and cream. Once again he thanked her kindly before tucking in. “Do feel free to sit down and have a little something yourself,” he added with a friendly wink. “I shan’t tell anyone.”

Her mouth quirked a little in amusement beneath her intricately braided beard, but she did take a seat and a cup of tea. Very politely, she let him enjoy his porridge in quiet for several minutes, only sipping at her own tea as they both took in the sunshine and the fresh air from the window. “Master Baggins, I must ask,” she said eventually, “do you know where you are?”

“Dale, of course,” he said. “The bell towers are a bit of a giveaway. I suppose I was injured and couldn’t be moved, but Thorin wouldn’t trust a human healer.”

Arching a thick black eyebrow, the dwarrowdam said, “An accurate supposition.”

“I have a bit of an advantage when it comes to guessing,” he confided. “My head feels like it was hit by a boulder.”

“Not a boulder,” she said. “You took a blow to the skull yesterday afternoon, and it was determined that you should convalesce in the closest available bed, which was here in Dale.”

“Yesterday! It must have been some blow.”

“It was.” Her mouth set in a firm, thin line. Without knowing her well, Bilbo couldn’t be sure, but he thought she looked upset.

“You must be quite the healer, if Oin entrusted my care to you,” he said, trying to cheer her. “I am terribly sorry for not asking sooner, but I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”

“Dis,” she said.

Bilbo started from the bed as though a troop of goblins had broken through the door, but she caught him about the shoulders and pressed him back with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” she demanded in alarm.

“I was attempting to bow,” he said uncertainly.

“Do not.” Her voice was a low growl, and her hands upon Bilbo’s shoulders seemed very strong to the little hobbit. Once he relaxed obediently back into the bed she released him.

“I am the biggest fool in the world.” Bilbo sighed, staring up at the ceiling after her face vanished from his view.

“You have moved more and suffered few ill effects,” she admitted grudgingly. “But it would be best to lie still. You must not get up without reason.”