Mahal's Blessing

Chapter 2: The Rolling Hills of the Shire

Hi! I hope you're enjoying Mahal's Blessing!  I imagine Amita Suman as Razia Kaur, I included a GIF of her above! I'll add little GIFs here and there for context as well!

When Razia awoke, the sight of a young child staring intently at her startled her into a yelp, inadvertently scaring the poor child in the process. It took her a moment to register the unfamiliar surroundings, and when the realization hit that it wasn't a dream, she slapped her cheeks again in disbelief. The child, taking a step back, darted off down the green hill, leaving Razia to mutter, "No no no no! Great. What do I do?"

Caught in the mystifying musings of the Shire, Razia felt a wave of uncertainty. Other than Bilbo, she knew nothing about this world, not even the existence of other characters. Stopping in her tracks, she suddenly remembered—Bilbo! With newfound determination, she stumbled down the pathway, nearly slipping twice, until she encountered a hobbit pushing a cart.

"Excuse me, can you tell me where to find Bilbo Baggins?" she asked, prompting the hobbit to give her an odd look before pointing up the hill. "Bilbo's up there. He lives just round the bend and then first hobbit hole on the left. You can't miss the door, it's old and peeling at the edges," he snickered. Razia bowed slightly, thanking the hobbit, who hurriedly did the same before darting off again.

With a sense of anticipation, she arrived at Bilbo's hobbit hole and gave two sharp knocks on the door. As it swung open, she was taken aback to see a boy, perhaps 12 years old, struggling to open the door. "Bilbo Baggins?" Razia whispered. The boy's eyes sparkled with curiosity as he responded, "Mhm! I'm Bilbo! Pleasure to meet ya!" With a theatrical bow, he kept both hands on the doorknob. "Who are ya?"

"Uhh, I, uh..." she mumbled, before gaining a bit of composure. "I'm a friend. May I come in?"

Bilbo's smile widened as he called out, "Ma! There's a friend here!" The door swung open further, and Razia entered their cozy hobbit home with a graceful smile. From the kitchen emerged a homely hobbit, her golden brown curls pinned up, and a dress adorned with a dirty apron tied around her waist. She quizzically looked at Razia and asked, "And whose friend are ya?" Caught off guard, Razia fumbled for words before explaining, "Pardon me. I thought a friend of mine was staying here. I'm lost, you see, and thought he could help me." She glanced down at Bilbo, who stared at her with wonder. "I was mistaken," she finished.

The hobbit, identified as Belladonna Took, burst into laughter. "In for a surprise, were ya! You probably thought some magic shrunk yer little friend when you saw my little Bilbo." Razia nervously chuckled, admitting, "Yes, I was."

"Well, I'm Belladonna Took, pleased to meet ya! Now, I don't know about any friend of yours, but perhaps you would like to stay for supper? You don't look like yer from around here..." Belladonna trailed off. Razia blinked before responding, "Razia. Razia Kaur." Belladonna mused, "Pretty name," before gesturing at Razia's outfit. "And we best get you some new clothes, dearie. I'll wash those for you when I get a chance."

Razia finally took a moment to look at herself in the small mirror. She gasped. Her hair was down, wavy and wild, with mud caking her body. What was surprising, however, was her clothes and stature. A human-sized person would need to bend to fit in a hobbit hole, but Razia fit almost too perfectly inside, meaning she had shrunk. Standing at 5 feet 8 inches, she couldn't be more than 5 feet right now. Dressed in a dark blue tunic and tight cotton pants, a gold bead hung from her hair with strange carvings. What in the world was going on?

Belladonna's steps brought her out of her reverie as she held out a gown for Razia to change into. "Thank you," Razia said gracefully. "Of course, dearie. Go ahead into the room in the back. You can take a bath and get changed." Razia bowed once more before walking into the hobbit's home.

As Razia fumbled with the layers of the gown, her mind buzzed with the realization that Belladonna Took had passed away around 80. The details of her eventual fate eluded Razia, leaving her with a weighty decision. Should she tell Belladonna about the impending future she knew awaited her? The words, however, felt awkward and unsolicited. 'Girl, be careful, you might die in 30 years?' hardly seemed like comforting advice from a passing stranger. She sighed, wrestling with the complexities of her newfound knowledge.

"Need help, dearie!" Belladonna called from the kitchen. "No, I'm fine!" Razia quickly responded, pulling on the gown and wrapping her clothes. Glaring at her reflection in the mirror, she muttered, "I look ridiculous."

Stepping out of the bathroom, Razia was greeted by a delightful aroma wafting from the kitchen. The scent led her to a warm and inviting dinner table where Belladonna and Bilbo eagerly awaited her. The hobbit family graciously invited her to join them, and soon they were engaged in a hearty meal. Belladonna, ever the hospitable host, struck up a conversation with Razia.

"Where are you from, dearie?" Belladonna inquired, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. Razia hesitated for a moment before offering vague answers. "Oh, far away." The words hung in the air, and she masked her discomfort with a polite smile. The simplicity of her responses concealed the complexities of her true origins and the mysterious journey that had brought her to this quaint hobbit home. As the conversation continued, Razia immersed herself in the warmth of their company, trying to find solace in the simple pleasures of a shared meal.

As the meal progressed, Belladonna shared more about their daily life in the Shire. "My husband will be busy with the fields for a while," she mentioned, "but you're more than welcome to stay the night if you need to, dearie." Razia, grateful for the hospitality, accepted the kind offer with a warm smile.

After the hearty dinner, Razia insisted on clearing the table, a task that Belladonna was initially reluctant to let her do. "No, no, dearie, you're our guest. You don't need to trouble yourself," Belladonna protested, but Razia's insistence was met with a polite refusal.

"I insist, Belladonna. It's the least I can do to repay your kindness," Razia smiled, and with that, she began to clear the table. The simple act of helping felt grounding to Razia, a reminder of familiar customs even in this unfamiliar land. As she moved about the hobbit home, the warmth of the hearth and the comforting presence of her hosts enveloped her. The unspoken connection forged through shared moments and simple gestures provided a temporary respite from the mysteries that still lingered in the corners of her mind.

After the dinner table was cleared, Razia expressed her gratitude once again and retired to the cozy guest room that Belladonna had prepared for her. The room emanated a comforting warmth, adorned with earthy colors and the soft glow of a lamp. As she settled in, Razia found herself with much to think about.

Fiddling with the gold bead in her hair, she tried to recall the events of the book at this point in the story. The weight of the bead brought a sense of connection to the tales of Middle Earth, but her thoughts were scattered. She pondered the implications of her unexpected journey, grappling with the enigmatic voice, the shrinking, and the uncertainties that lay ahead.

With a deep breath, Razia attempted to make sense of her situation. She mentally retraced the steps of the characters in the story, searching for clues and crafting a plan. The Shire, Bilbo, the unfolding events—all these elements wove together in a tapestry of possibilities. Her gaze fixed on the bead in her hand, she whispered to herself, "Stay close to the events of the book. Perhaps there's a reason I'm here, a role to play."

As she contemplated the unfolding narrative and her role within it, Razia drifted into a realm of possibilities and uncertainties. The gentle glow of the lamp cast a soft ambiance in the room, creating a haven for introspection and contemplation.