For Doc,
Merry belated Christmas!
It was dark and Thorin was making the return journey. He had been to see Dain's people, hoping to get some aid. The dwarves of the Iron Hills were stubborn and solid in their firm rejection. Thorin shook his head, continuing his trek. He knew it had been a slim hope to even think that they would accept him.
Dain was his second cousin, but he had a vast people to overlook. Dain was successful. Thorin was not.
Thorin kicked the ground in disgust. Yes, he envied Dain. Thorin was ashamed that, though they were both princes, Dain was able to succeed where he was not.
Reaching the grassy downs of the Shire, Thorin stopped and rested his head against a conveniently located tree. It probably wasn't placed there for that purpose, nor was it used to such treatment, but Thorin didn't care.
Sitting down, Thorin rubbed his head, hoping against hope that Gandalf would pull through for them. Gandalf the Grey was a wizard, and one of the greater Istari in the land.
Even though everyone knew Saruman the White was the greatest and chief of the wizards' order, Gandalf was the one all common folk looked to for help. Whether you wished it or not, Gandalf the Grey would be more than willing to help a bloke in need.
Sighing, Thorin got to his feet and nodded his head decisively. Yes, he would check out this hobbit halfling. If he was half the burglar Thorin cynically allowed himself to hope for, he would take the thing along and pray that Gandalf would travel with them. After all, who had heard of a hobbit, much less a random place called the Shire?
Thorin and company were on the road once again, hobbit in tow. Gandalf lead the company, to everyone's surprise and delight.
But like all wizards, he kept his own agenda and left and returned in his own fashion.
Disgruntled, the dwarves rested once more, bemoaning the loss of Gandalf's company. No one blamed the poor wizard for having to keep an eye out for all Middle-Earth. And certainly no one blamed the hobbit, though the hobbit himself looked a poor little shrimp. The cousins Bifur and Bofur kept filling the hobbit's bowl with food.
Poor little Bilbo was adjusting to the new, harsh environment of living in the big, wide world. Without the Shire's protection, he felt a new kind of courage and thirst for adventure stirring within him.
Bofur stood first watch that night. And that's when he saw it.
A small movement caught his eye. Raising his mattock defensively, Bofur moved away from the fire.
There were two shadows that flickered in the shades of grey light. As the moon moved back and forth from the heavy cloud cover, Bofur could make out a lone figure.
The dancing shadows resolved themselves into one as a girl approached the fire. She was a shivering thing, probably a lost remnant of a band who had been attacked by orcs.
Deciding not to wake up Thorin, Bofur held out his mattock threateningly. "Who are you?" he whispered, voice hostile.
The girl froze mid-stride and brought up her dagger. "Who are you?" she responded in kind.
"I asked you first and we outnumber you." His hand never wavered, but his eyes focused on her clothes and her flushed cheeks.
"I am Jinny. At your service." She curtsied, wobbling a little.
Bofur, being a gentleman, smiled kindly and said, "Bofur, at your service." He bowed gallantly, causing Jinny to flush in embarrassment.
His manners were pristine and all that she could hope for in a rescuer. She had been left to wander the plains on her own. Lacking enough food and water, she had believed that a mirage had overtaken her when she saw the flickering firelight. Not wanting to torture herself any longer, she walked towards it, hoping her release into the next world would be shorter and easier that way.
Now, back in the world of the living, she was hard put to answer the multitude of questions this man - well, dwarf - asked her.
"Where are you from?" Bofur asked, casually, handing her a second serving of food.
"I come from the southfarthing plains, about ten days' distance, as the crow flies. We were driven out by the orcs and goblins. I was with my brother and father about five days ago out up north, towards those mountains." She pointed towards the horizon, where blue twin peaks stood up from the ground, marking the horizon line.
"What happened?" He couldn't help his curious nature.
She bit her lip. Stiffly, she said, "We were attacked" She flinched as he moved, recalling the events in her mind. He withdrew his hand, but she didn't seem to see him. Puzzled by her behaviour, his concern turned to surprise as her emotions overtook her body.
Silent tears streamed down her face as she ate, not looking up to see his reaction.
Bofur looked around uncomfortably. He noticed that several of the company were awake. But being the jerks that they were, they left him on his own. Damn them all for deciding to be gentlemanly now!
Cursing them in his mind, Bofur laid a hand on the sobbing girl's shoulder, hoping it would comfort her.
Instead, she took the gesture as a sign of friendship and embraced him, getting his shirt all wet with her tears.
"There, there," he murmured, hoping she would let go soon so his shirt would dry off. He knew what the proper thing aunts and grandmothers would say. But what was he supposed to do? Wondering if he was doing right, he stayed silent and let her make the first move.
She cried herself out, arms wrapped firmly around his chest. Tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder, she fell asleep. Exhausted emotionally and physically, the girl had reached her limit and passed out in Bofur's arms.
The hoots and catcalls made Bofur blush. Why couldn't they help for once, instead of looking on at their brother's problem? Where was Bombur when he needed something? Sighing in mock exasperation, Bofur made a face at his adopted dwarf family. They smiled and laughed, egging him on without budging an inch.
Bofur cursed his luck and carefully lifted the girl's sleeping form. Cradling her in his arms easily, he carried her to a spare blanket and laid her down. It was a warm night, so he left her as soon as possible, not bothering to tuck her in. Tugging off his shirt, he laid it out on the ground to dry. Exhausted himself, Bofur curled up against a tree.
"Take the next watch, will you?" Bofur called out sleepily. "It's past time someone took over instead of just enjoying the moment."
Thorin growled at Dwalin, who took over the watch. The rest grinned and smirked at the sleeping Bofur. Kili and Fili took bets on what would happen the following day.
Thorin was happy for his loyal friend and follower. If Bofur could find comfort and happiness, might not they all be able to?
It was a thought to ponder on a rainy day. For the moment, they had four more glorious hours of sleep before dawn. They would need their strength for the days' march as the next stop would be at nightfall. They needed to get across the plains unscathed. Hopefully, luck willing, they would make it to the next checkpoint without meeting a single orc.
Unfortunately for Bofur, sleep was shores away. He twisted and he turned. He tried several positions, but the tree always seemed to wake him up.
Finally, exhausted of fighting, he got up and walked over to the fire. Gloin, whose turn it was to watch camp, nodded his head as Bofur smiled faintly. Gloin was a good chap with a steady head. He had a family back home, but he was a loyal bloke who dropped everything to come on this adventure. Bofur admired Gloin's courage. If he had had a family like Gloin, Bofur wasn't sure if he could drop everything for some spur of the moment adventure with no guarantee of survival.
Bofur yawned and Gloin stood by the tree, knowing Bofur would tend the fire if necessary. Despite his weariness, Bofur was an alert chap who wouldn't just stand by idly.
Finally, Bofur decided enough was enough. Creeping over towards the blankets, he laid down on the unoccupied one. It was a grey blanket belonging to Gloin. As brothers in arms, they didn't mind sharing when one had watch. It was unusual as Bofur was used to his leaf green blanket, but he would make the sacrifice tonight. Anything for some sleep.
Unfortunately, Gloin's blanket was right next to Bofur's, where the girl was currently sleeping. As though sensing his presence, the girl scooted closer to Gloin's blanket and, consequently, closer to Bofur.
Bofur gasped when he felt something touch his back. Instinctively, he swung around, arm raised high. His eyes went wide when he saw the sleeping form of the girl. About to yell, he held his tongue and turned over, hoping she would continue sleeping and not move.
No such luck was with poor Bofur that night.
As if in invitation, the girl moved her body so she was touching him, one arm draped over his shoulder. Her legs were wrapped around his own and her breath tickled his neck.
He didn't push her away, but he wasn't quite sure how to approach the problem. Going over various scenarios in his mind, Bofur finally drifted off into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.
Bilbo was the first one awake at dawn. Relieving Gloin of the watch, Bilbo stretched and gazed at Bofur's sleeping form.
Rubbing his eyes in shock, Bilbo thought he had drunk some of Balin's devil's brew. But no, upon further inspection, his eyes were right. Bofur was larger than he had thought possible!
Shaking his head, Bilbo peered carefully and saw two distinct figures, one most certainly belonging to a female. Although whether she was human, elf or dwarf, he could not tell, Bilbo smiled at the sight and hoped Bofur was sleeping soundly. After taking the first three watches, Bofur would need all the sleep he could get. Oin, Bombur, Fili and Balin were slightly hurt and unable to watch the camp. With such a strain on their watches, it was imperative that every member of the company grab as much sleep as possible.
Bilbo kindled the fire to grow into a blaze once more and started to heat some water. Breakfast would be lovely today. Hobbit fashion.
"Wake up!" Bilbo said, happily, prodding the dwarves. "Wake up!"
The dwarves all grumbled in their sleep. Bilbo, having gotten used to this routine, nimbly avoided being kicked and punched by the various temperamental dwarves who had issues with rising earlier than usual.
Reaching Bofur and the girl, Bilbo softened his voice. "Good morning, sunshine! Ready for breakfast?" he asked, voice soft and lilting.
The girl yawned, stretching lazily. Her long arms and body were beautiful in the morning sun. Opening an eye, she sniffed the air approvingly. "What is that wonderful smell?" she asked, voice a bit husky because she had just woken up.
"That, my dear young lady, is breakfast. Would you like some?" Bilbo offered, ever the gentleman.
The girl nodded, fearing her voice would crack. Her throat felt dry and her voice sounded harsh to her own ears.
Bilbo prodded Bofur gently. "Bofur! Breakfast!"
Bofur's eyes snapped open. "Why do you do that?" he barked.
"Because it always gets you up before your usual time," Bilbo reproached the dwarf.
Bofur grumbled, sitting up.
Jinny eyed him uneasily, not sure what to say on the morning after.
The other dwarves, giving Bofur an invisible, 'I know what you did last night' gesture, left Bofur on his own. Again.
Bofur inwardly experienced another fit of anger. Of all times, the others had to pick now, when he needed their help the most, to be on their gentlemanly behaviour? It was ridiculous! Bofur sighed, shaking his head at the situation. How had he, of all dwarves, gotten involved in this mess?
Gulping, Bofur picked up a plate and offered it to Jinny.
Giggling out of embarrassment, Jinny accepted and waited for Bilbo to finish piling food on the plate.
"We're out of plates, so you'll have to share," Bilbo whispered, winking at Jinny.
Jinny blushed, and murmured a hasty, 'Thank you,' hoping that Bilbo was joking. She had been so worried about modesty that she had not even looked at the plate. Upon sitting down at the opposite end of the camp from Bofur, Jinny realized that Bilbo and company had dumped enough food for several people onto her plate.
Feeling like she was about to cry again, Jinny looked around. All the other dwarves, save Bofur, had breakfast.
Sighing, Jinny got up and approached Bofur warily.
"Good morning," Bofur said, deciding to be cheery and carefree.
"It is a good morning," Jinny agreed. "Would you mind sharing? Master Bilbo put too much on this plate. Seeing as how there are no more plates..." Her voice trailed off uncertainly.
Bofur smirked at her mention of Bilbo. 'Master Bilbo'? he thought. What was this girl thinking?
Recovering his composure, Bofur grinned. "Breakfast sounds good, milady."
Jinny blushed. She wasn't good enough for that title! Yes, she was a young lady. But, no, she wasn't anybody of importance. Taking his teasing for the joke it was, she sat comfortably and placed the plate between them.
It was an amusing morning as the dwaves ate and talked, cursing, burping and fighting openly. She admitted that she had missed this. When she had lived with her whole family, her siblings were much like these dwarves - rowdy, childish, spiteful, and playful. They had had food fights, camp watches, singing and cleaning up time. Each person had their own chores and everyone was responsible for something.
She never knew how much she had missed that until today.
Sighing, she did her best not to cry. She forced herself to smile and laugh, trying to enjoy each moment.
The dwarves invited her to journey with them, providing her with an extra pony. Embarrassed again at her lack of things to offer in return, Jinny accepted shyly. If only because she knew they were headed in the direction of her hometown.
She enjoyed the company of the merry band as it set off on its way. She enjoyed the high spirits and the feeling of belonging. She felt good and safe with them. They offered everything she could want. Including family. They didn't ask her for anything beyond what she was willing to give and that suited her just fine.
It wasn't until the nightly camp that she felt uncomfortable.
"Hey, I know something's bothering you," he bluntly said. Bofur inwardly winced at his own social shortcomings. Always a blurt-it-out type, he had no style, no charm. He wasn't Thorin, who was dashing and handsome. He wasn't Fili and Kili, who could charm an orc into thinking he was getting a deal when they killed him. He wasn't crafty Balin who could use references to the stars to get a girl. He was just plain Bofur. Blunt, straight to the point, the truth will hurt Bofur.
Jinny sighed, dreading this moment. Pushing a lock of red hair out of her face, she struggled to look up at him. She didn't want to see pity or comfort on his face.
Bofur sat down next to her, eyes on the fire. "I know it's hard. We're all the same here. Look at us, a wandering vagabond band of dwarves. Look at you."
She gulped nervously, afraid he was going to say everything she feared. 'We don't need you.' 'You're too young to be on your own.' All that nonsense.
Bofur forced himself to look at her. "You're a beautiful girl with a lot to offer this world. You're a survivor and you've made it this far. Pretty soon we'll be near that town you said you came from, if our measurements are right. Balin calculated it for us." Bofur stopped, unsure of how to proceed.
"Look," she said at last, when the silence had stretched on eerily. "If you don't want me, I get it. I'm not productive to your group." She continued to stare at the ground. Hesitantly, she continued, "I know I don't add anything and I haven't brought anything with me..." She bit her lip, worried what his reaction would be. Put like that, it did sound as though she were using them.
"No, that's not what I mean." He grabbed her arm a bit more harshly than he had initially intended. "I meant that you probably want to go back home. We're not home, not to you. We're family. But we're lost. We're making our slow, meandering way back to a home that may or may not be waiting for us. You have a home. And soon, we'll be there."
He couldn't say it. He couldn't say what he would miss if she left for her own home.
She wanted to tell him not to push her away, but her mind went blank at his words. He had let emotion seep into them and it stirred something inside of her.
Grabbing his wrist as he made to get up, she stopped his movement.
"I want to stay," she stated simply, finally looking into his brown-black eyes.
He was mesmerized by her green eyes. Her gaze held him and him alone as her glowing eyes glinted in the firelight.
Before he knew it, she had flung her arms around him. Pressing her lips to his, she kissed him in a possessive way. She was fierce and aggressive, the traits of youth.
His mind reeled, unable to hold onto a single thought.
As he kissed her back, he let his hands tangle in her long hair and allowed her to bury her face in his chest. She smelled like the wildflowers and he inhaled her scent. He was demanding and persuasive; she was willing and obedient as he took control. They fought for control, each giving in a little here and there. They indulged in a contest of wills and each and played hard to get in a teasing way.
She enjoyed feeling his lean form in her arms. His wiry muscles comforted her and although he was taller than her, she didn't mind one bit. She liked her men taller, anyway.
He loved that she was shorter than him. He hoped she had a lively, temperamental disposition. He welcomed the challenge and fun that would bring. He wasn't sure if he loved her, but he basked in the moment for what it was. For now, he was content.
And so was she.
The rest of the dwarves carried on as though nothing strange had happened. It was family, after all.