Disclaimer: I do not own or claim any connection to the literary or film franchises of either The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings. I am not receiving any monetary or material payment or compensation from publishing this story. I am merely writing it for my own personal pleasure.
Where now the horse and the rider? © bangbangbangitybang
Chapter 1: A hole in the ground
Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?
J.R.R Tolkien, The Two Towers
It was a truth universally acknowledged that if a hobbit bore the name Baggins of Bag End they were a respectable folk. Now what does it mean to the hobbits to be respectable? Well, one never did anything unexpected. One would wake at the same time every morning, routinely care for their garden and check for their mail and, of course, enjoy a few puffs of Old Toby at the closure of a long, expected day. However, this was only common knowledge to those who inhabited the Shire, creatures quite unused to visitors from beyond their borders.
Hence it stood to reason why the solitary rider sat upon her mount at the edge of the wood, glancing uncertainly up and down the path she had come. The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon long ago, the full moon heavy and bright in the sky however the sounds of thunder rumbled in the distance. Pushing the hood of her dark wine colored cloak away from her bright hair, she turned her attention to the fourteen shorter, snuffling equines loosely gathered around her own horse. The ponies had traveled hard and true throughout their long journey, and her skilled eyes easily detected their exhaustion. Sighing heavily, uncharacteristically feeling self-conscious, she clucked encouragingly at the herd and urged her ride forward toward the slumbering Hobbiton.
That crafty old wizard, she thought without bitterness as she led her herd as quietly as one could fifteen equines. He said it would be easily found! I should have known…
Eventually her eyes fixated on the small, glowing blue sign carved toward the bottom of the round door. Dismounting and murmuring a command to her tall, broad dapple grey horse – obviously the leader of the herd, who lowly nickered at the ponies to still them – she curiously observed the hobbit hole for a long moment. Quite intrigued by the home's design, she was surprised by the homely cleanliness that surrounded the hobbit hole. However her innocent curiosity vanished as her ears picked up the rumbling, rambunctious sound of reveling dwarves. Brother, I will have words with you when I return. An Eorling in a Company of Dwarves?!
Debating the merits of propriety of either knocking or ringing the bell, she eventually jangled the small string dangling from the bell near the door, noticing how the rumblings within had quieted. Minutes passed and, frowning as the equines behind her shuffled anxiously to be put to bed, she rang again. The door slowly creaked open to reveal a hobbit, the first she had seen, whose head barely reached above her waistline. He had a kind face and a mop of curly, unruly hair. Blinking up at her, she attempted a smile to dispel his obvious nervousness.
"Hello," She greeted politely. To many her air of manner, tone of voice, and expression were genteel however it was hollow, despite its authenticity. "You must be our Master Hobbit?"
The hobbit breathed low and long through his nose in an attempt to remain placid. "I suppose," He muttered, resignedly stepping aside to open the door further for her.
"Before I enter, where I may I stable them?" She gestured behind her, a grin of amusement twisting her lips as her host's eyes widened.
"No, no!" He shook his head, gesticulating wildly with his hands. "I have my house full of dwarves; my poor garden cannot handle a herd of ponies!"
"Nonsense Bilbo!" Gandalf, stooped and full of good humor, shuffled behind the hobbit to smile at her, ducking suddenly to avoid banging his head into the chandelier hanging from the low ceiling. "Éofara can bully anything with hooves to do her bidding, isn't that right my dear?"
"I have not quite tried that, but I will do my best."
Beaming, Gandalf pointedly ignored Bilbo's subdued and desponded protests as the wizard instructed her to stable the animals behind the hobbit hole, away from the vegetables, knowing she would keep them from wandering off. Once she had settled them, girths loosened and bits removed, Éofara slipped through the front door and was overcome with appreciation for the simple, rustic comforts within. Toeing off her boots and placing them neatly by the door, she removed her cloak before following the loud, rumbling voices of the dwarves to the dining area where Gandalf's seated form towered over the other occupants.
"Ah, the final member of our company has arrived at last!" He sighed happily, puffing on his pipe. Despite his age, the wizard's eyes were bright with youth as he teased her. "You're usually so punctual; I quite expected you'd beat the others! Especially with your skills."
"It should concern you that your directions managed to confuse even me, Mithrandir." Éofara replied, her derision without heat. "Henceforth let us agree that I will defer to you for all aspects of wizarding and you shall do the same to me in regards to map reading."
During her conversation with Gandalf, Éofara politely ignored the scrutinizing looks the now silent dwarves cast upon her. Many of their glances were dark with suspicion. Judging by her attire and appearance, the blood of the Rohirrim ran strongly in her veins. She possessed the bright, wavy hair of the Horse-Lords along with their lean, tall frames. Her fair skin was covered in red blotches from the biting chill of the night, and her homely, rough spun gown was spattered with mud and vegetation from the woods. However the most striking aspect of her appearance was her eyes. The people of Rohan were known to have blue eyes. While her right eye was that shade, her left was a dark brown color it appeared black in the flickering candle light. The contrasting colors unnerved many of the Company as they had never seen such a thing.
In the ensuing silence, Éofara turned to Bilbo, who had returned to his seat at the table squashed between two of the dwarves. He looked sullen and put upon, obviously exhausted with the dwarves' antics. Titling her head slightly, she caught his eye and smiled. "Thank you for your hospitality, Master Hobbit. I imagine hosting a gathering such as this is quite taxing."
Some of the dwarves grumbled at her words, sensing a hidden insult, but Bilbo blinked hugely at her for a long moment. None of the others had outright thanked him and he thought that, as of now, this woman was by far his favorite visitor out of the group.
"You're quite welcome." He responded, cheeks tingeing a slight pink. With her strange eyes framed by her loose, bright hair she was quite pretty. And while her expression was kind, there was something barren about her. Bilbo believed it was similar to what one felt perhaps glancing at mountains (he had often imagined gazing at those snow capped peaks that he had only the words in books to see). It was a faraway, sad look when staring at something so out of reach but beautiful nonetheless.
Internally steeling herself, the Eorling gazed at the wizard, a brow quirked. Clearing his throat, Gandalf turned his entire body toward one dwarf in particular. He was seated at the head of the table, his back to a corner to allow him a view of the entire room. Arms crossed over his chest, he seemed to be brooding quite intensely as their eyes glanced off one another.
"May I present Thorin Oakenshield, leader of our Company." Gandalf gathered whatever respectability and tact he had hidden underneath his layers of eccentricity as he introduced the dwarf prince. When the wizard had first approached her with this scheme, he had informed her exactly whose order she would be following however this was the first time she was meeting the displaced King under the Mountain face-to-face. "Éofara, Tamer of Horses and my friend for many years." While the other dwarves remained scowling at her, none could hope to match the poisonous glare Thorin was able to muster. If she were a lesser woman, she would have withered away where she stood.
"Most times I am your keeper," She muttered teasingly at the wizard before returning her attention to the dwarf. She inclined her head in deference. "Humbly met, Master Oakenshield."
His only response was a rough grunt, the deep sound relaying his evident displeasure with her existence. Éofara merely huffed a quiet, amused sound and allowed her lips to quirk sharply. The whims and sensibilities of royalty, whether they were Men or Dwarves, was an endless source of ridiculous hilarity.
"What tricks are you weaving, wizard?" Thorin growled at Gandalf. "First you promise me a burglar and deliver me a grocer!"
"I am not a grocer," Bilbo groused, his statement unheard.
"And now you bring me a woman of The Mark!" The dwarf prince made a scoffed sound of disgust in the back of his throat. "The Mark!" He exclaimed again.
"Now Thorin," Gandalf rebuked gently. "I have asked that you trust my judgment in small matters of this quest, Éofara is one such matter."
"This is not a small matter, Gandalf." Thorin retorted hotly. "You should have spoken to me about this much sooner!"
Bilbo, along with the remaining dwarves, watched the exchange in silence, knowing better than to interrupt their leader. Some of the elder dwarves also examined Éofara's reaction to the discussion, but she merely blinked lazily and appeared unruffled by Thorin's firm refusals.
"It is no bother." She finally interrupted, starling the dwarves. Many could not believe she dared cut off Thorin of all people. Aforementioned dwarf turned to narrow his eyes at her while Gandalf seemed slightly surprised by her interjection as well. "I can very easily return to my home, for I have many comfortable ponies to carry me. I assume you all have wonderful walking shoes then, for it is a long way you are traveling, yes?"
If at all possible, Thorin's eyes narrowed even more.
Lifting one shoulder in an easy shrug, Éofara made to turn away and head toward the door, quietly murmuring a final gratitude to Bilbo just as Balin rose to his feet. "Ah- Wait a moment?"
Perhaps it was age or experience, but Balin was by far the most level headed dwarf. Frequently he served to cool their prince's hot temper and rash actions, tempering him with much needed sense. Stilling, she inclined her head slightly in answer to the white haired dwarf's plea, and he turned to his prince.
"'Tis a long walk." He pointed out, a self-deprecating grin on his weathered face.
Staring for a long moment, Thorin exhaled in exasperation through his nose before nodding shallowly. "Very well, the woman may stay."
Oh my, thank you, gracious one. Éofara rolled her eyes. I imagine he strained something just then.
Gandalf, smiling genteelly as the argument was halted before it could truly begin, beckoned Éofara to the table to rest from her long journey and partake in the delicious stew Bombur prepared for the Company. Fili and Kili, seeing her heterochromic eyes scanning the table for a space, began shoving each other as they nearly scrambled for the chance to sit beside her. The two dwarf brothers were still young enough to not care about a woman's origin as long as she was pretty enough, even if she was from The Mark. The scuffle drew the attention of their grave faced uncle, whose dark look was not enough to quell their actions.
Finally, the brothers shoved the dwarves on either side of them further down to create a suitable seat for Éofara in between them. "Here!" They both called happily, pointing to the now empty space. Gandalf watched intently as Éofara's mismatched gaze settled on the two dwarf brothers, her face remaining neutral but he could see her struggling not to grin in amusement. The mirth in her expression warmed his heart; he had not seen any joy in her since… Well, it wouldn't do to spoil the mood by thinking on that now.
"Many thanks," She cordially replied and carefully tiptoed around those seated at the table to her space. Fili and Kili shared a conspiratorial smile before beaming at her. Quietly squeezing between the two, Éofara nodded silently as Bofur slid a bowl toward her. It was a simple concoction, but the heady smell of whatever herbs and spices Bombur had used to season the broth smelled wonderful. Kili shyly offered her a fluffy piece of bread that he had hidden away from the others and his gesture was rewarded with a smile that dimpled one of her cheeks. Fili glared at his brother behind her back in response to his flirtation.
"Well," She offered once she had eaten half of her portion to find many of the dwarves still watched her while they had returned to their own conversations. "As you know my name, what shall I call the rest of you?"
"I'm Fili!" The blond dwarf at her side gestured to himself.
"And I'm Kili!" The dark haired one on the other greeted.
"At your service!" The two finished in unison. What interesting ones these two are…
"Ah, where are my manners!" Gandalf chuckled. Lost in your cup and pipe, probably. Pointing round the table, the wizard rattled off each name punctuated with a point of his pipe at the dwarf he was referring to. "Oin, Gloin, Dwalin, Balin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, and Ori."
Éofara blinked, hard. "Erm…"
They all laughed at her mildly bewildered expression, even Bilbo managed a weak chuckle. "It's alright, lass. We don't expect you to remember 'em all right away." She was able to recall the white haired, more level headed dwarf's name. Balin winked conspiratorially and grinned in a grandfatherly fashion.
Releasing a quiet, grateful breath Éofara dropped her eyes to her soup. It had not escaped her senses that Thorin had been staring at her throughout the entire exchange. Beneath her lashes, her eyes glanced to the two cheerful dwarves flanking her. All three resemble one another. They must be kin. Stomach twisting, the horsewoman suddenly did not feel so hungry. She thought of her own brother, and missed his company sorely at this particular moment.
Whilst one of the heroines of this tale – for there are many – became lost in her own thoughts she rather forgot that she'd been holding the brooding attentions of a dwarf prince. Thorin observed her looks and movements with keenness. Aside from procuring a burglar – to call Bilbo Baggins such was a laughable prospect – Gandalf in addition had convinced Thorin to allow him to find a horseflesh provider and guide for their journey. While he had not relished telling yet another individual of their quest, Thorin had to begrudgingly recognize the necessity of such a thing. He had not expected a woman.
Women had their place in the world, the wilds and battlefields were not it. Thorin already had many depending upon the success of this quest, his people; he did not need a vulnerable, weak kneed woman looking to him as well. However, if Gandalf so strongly defended her abilities, well, what was he to say in response? That was how the dwarf prince found himself observing her, analyzing her abilities and usefulness.
Her posture was almost elflike in its grace, her back was spear shaft straight and her shoulders squared. He had not appreciated her interjection when he had previously been arguing with Gandalf, her words were delivered coolly but they were just shy of insolent. However now she was almost demurred as she kept her eyes downcast. What caught his gaze though, after long moments, were her hands.
The nails were bit roughly down to the quick, resembling those of warriors more than maidens. Calluses were easily visible on both palms and along the insides of her fingers. What was most interesting to Thorin was that they were stained dark. Splotches in various shades of black and grey mottled the skin well past the hems of her long sleeves. He recognized it immediately, for he had seen it on his own hands when he had worked long hours before a blacksmith's fire.
"Well, now that we have our guide and mounts," Gandalf's gaze rested on Éofara, his voice causing her to raise her eyes automatically. Quite by accident, her mismatched eyes locked with Thorin's at the action, both parties scowling at the other before focusing elsewhere.
Rohirrim! Thorin thought with scorn.
Dwarves! Éofara scoffed inwardly.
"Let us now focus on our burglar." Gandalf's eyes brightened with mischief as he turned to Bilbo. The hobbit paled as the room's collective attention was suddenly upon him.
"Very well," Thorin sighed, resigned. Éofara supposed her arrival had interrupted a discussion about this very subject. "Give him the contract."
Balin cleared his throat, riffling around a pocket in his tunic for a folded piece of paper. "It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses," Bilbo's eyes bulged after taking the proffered paper as it unfurled into a list nearly as long as he was tall. "Time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth."
"Funeral arrangements?" Bilbo sputtered, face looking a tad grey.
He does seem quite terrified. Éofara shook her head and nibbled on the biscuit Kili had given her. Poor thing.
"I cannot guarantee his safety." Thorin murmured to Gandalf, voice dark with solemnity.
"Understood." Gandalf replied just as somberly.
"Nor will I be responsible for his fate." Thorin added with a hiss.
Gandalf hesitated for a handful of seconds. "Agreed."
"The woman is also your burden, not mine or my kin's."
The old wizard chuckled, coughing as he inhaled some smoke sharply from his pipe. If only Thorin knew the hilarity of that statement!
"'Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any.' Hmm. Seems fair." Bilbo continued to read the contract aloud, much to Éofara and her tablemates' amusement. "'The present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations ... evisceration…" The hobbit squinted in incredulity. "… Incineration?" Swallowing audibly, Bilbo peeked to the heavens for assistance. "I feel a bit faint."
"Think a furnace," Bofur offered helpfully around a mouthful of food, gesturing in the air. "With wings!"
Breathing heavily, Bilbo took a moment to compose himself and stared at the floor as if it held the answers to all life's questions before looking up with a shake of his head. "No," The Master Burglar and Host of the evening unceremoniously pitched backwards and fainted. Éofara's bowl shook slightly at the impact of his limp body hitting the floor.
The remaining members of the quest stared in silence for a long moment.
"Well," Éofara pushed her food away. "I will be heading to bed. It seems I will need the entire night to recover from my overwhelming faith in the success of this endeavor."
Thorin nearly growled but the sound was lost amidst the snickers of some of the others. Lightly stepping around them, Éofara shook her head with a small smile as she walked around Bilbo's prostrate form. "There, there, Master Baggins," Bending at the waist as she passed, she lightly pat the unconscious hobbit's shoulder in comfort as she drifted back outside.
"I like her!" Kili declared boldly once he heard the door shut behind the bright haired woman.
"As do I!" Fili agreed wholeheartedly with his brother.
"She is not present as a means of amusement for you two." Thorin chastised his two nephews with a stern look and harsh tone.
"Oh come now, laddie." Balin rested a hand on his prince's stiff shoulder. "Master Gandalf has vouched for her, have some faith. People will surprise you!"
"Hm," The dwarf prince grunted. That's what concerns me…
AN: Well, what is the consensus on this? I have not been active in the LOTR fandom for many years, let alone the Hobbit fandom. (But they are kind of the same fandom, aren't they? Right?) Despite the fact that I shouldn't have even started this until I finished this darkness light, I couldn't help myself because A) I am seeing Battle of the Five Armies tomorrow (EEEEK! GAIS I AM GONNA CRY A BUTTLOAD) and B) I have discovered a great selection of works on this site that have just reignited my muse with a passion.
In particular warning this story is going to get dark because, hey, that's my thing. Also prepare for so much equestrian everything because that's almost my signature. I need something horse-y in every story I write, I just can't help it. You know that joke about being in elementary school and there's the one girl obsessed with horses? I was that child so freaking hard.