Authors' Note: Welcome! We hope that you enjoy our romp through Tolkien's world. If you recognize it, it's probably from Tolkien or Peter Jackson. If it's an non-Tolkienian idea you've seen before in fanfiction, feel free to assume it's a (most likely) subconscious allusion/tribute to the original author. Happy reading! Elle and Rhi
Baggage
The hobbit's requested two days passed without any trouble; Dori and Bofur reported that while their appearance at the market produced more than a few stares, their hostess's explanations were heard happily enough, without any shocked gasps or malicious whisperings. The halfling did disappear to her solicitor after luncheon the first day, while the Company was still in a lethargic state of awe over the abundance and frequency of hobbit meals, and returned to report her work done, save for needing to return the next day to sign some paperwork. She gathered Dori and Bofur again to visit her cellar, but any irritation Thorin felt at his subjects being commandeered without his permission was quickly forgotten when they reemerged with enough ale and wine to satisfy a hundred dwarves, and the promise of more remaining beneath if needed. The merriment lasted long through the night, and more than one dwarf slept at his spot around Miss Baggins' dining table. Needless to say, first breakfast the next morning was a subdued affair. Still, Thorin felt anxious and irritable every second wasted in that sleepy place.
The hobbit lass unnerved him, if he was honest with himself. Her smooth face was childlike to his mind, though her dark eyes were disturbingly old. Her form was slender at the waist and shoulder and yet curvy around the hips and breasts, like many of the females he saw pass by her front gate, an odd mix of adolescent and mature shapes of a proper dwarrowdam. Her ears were distressingly elfish, though she seemed to have sense enough, at least as the keeper of her home, to manage a dwarrow company. She laughed easily with Bofur and Fili and Kili, but she rarely spoke more than necessary - her sharp words to him at her door notwithstanding, and he admitted he had mostly deserved those. As a hostess, she had actually impressed him; he was comfortable in her home, a sadly unfamiliar feeling. Still, he doubted very much she could be of any help on the road, or at the Mountain, and another stone of dread was added to the weight on his heart.
Not a moment too soon, the two days were past, and Thorin was able to give the order to depart. Their ponies had been kept in a fallow field apparently under the hobbit's supervision, and the company had found her there, pack on back and walking stick in hand, chatting with a rather grizzled hobbit who looked at the dwarrow with open suspicion. The lass rested her hand on his arm, and his attention returned to her.
At least she was dressed practically enough. Her blouse, though white, was loosely cut for comfort and modesty, but not so billowing as to be caught on every passing briar. She wore a heavy skirt, but with slits on both sides going up to mid-thigh, and beneath that was a pair of sensible-looking breeches. Her small, furry feet, however, were naked - he'd see how her bare soles handled stirrups.
Feeling a hot gaze fixed on him, Thorin returned his attention to the male hobbit at Miss Baggins' side. His face was hilariously angry as he glared at Thorin; Dwalin shifted at Thorin's side, hands resting upon his wide belt to prevent their reaching for his axe handles. The wizard's arrival broke the stand-off.
"Gandalf!" the pudgy male demanded upon seeing the Grey Pilgrim, hands going to his hips as if scolding a naughty child. "What do you think yer doing?!"
The Wizard looked honestly perplexed, as did the halfling lass.
"Holman…" she pleaded.
"Dragging off Master Bungo's little girl like this, and with dwarves, no less!" Holman made a truncated gesture at the dwarven company, his seamed face wrought with grandfatherly concern.
"Holman!" The hobbit lass looked shocked at her gardener's sudden protests.
"Mistress Belladonna would have boxed your ears, Master Wizard!"
"And her daughter is likely to do the same to you, Master Gardener, if you don't hold your tongue!" the Wizard bit back - and indeed, the hobbit lass looked fiercer than Thorin would have thought her able - "Furthermore, I cannot imagine what objections you could possibly have to my friends here, nor my taking Miss Biliana with us, unless you think her incapable?"
"Incapable…!" Holman sputtered indignantly, outrageously offended by the suggestion. "Ms. Belladonna's child, incapable! That ain't the matter here, and you know it!"
"Holman." This time Miss Baggins spoke in a tone not to be ignored. The gardener turned, face miserable, to look at her.
"Holman… my dear, dear Holman. I know you're worried; any of us would be a fool to assume this journey's going to be easy."
"Too far.. It's too far, Miss Biliana! And with…" His gestured awkwardly towards the Company; Thorin bristled, and Dwalin growled.
"Perfectly honorable dwarves?" The lass interjected with a raised eyebrow, almost daring him to disagree, even as she took his dirty, calloused hands in hers. "Better they, I think, than elves or men, who might misplace me on the way, for want of seeing me!"
Kili snickered; Fili elbowed him, though his face looked dangerously close to a smile of his own.
Agéd hobbit and hobbit lass stared at each other a long moment, before the older sighed, surrendering. As the younger made her way over to the ponies, he turned back to Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin, pointing his finger energetically at them.
"You keep her well, you hear me? She's a special lass; don't you go letting her get hurt!"
Thorin took a deep breath, but Balin spoke first, raising one hand placatingly.
"We intend not to let any of our companions be harmed during this journey, Master… Holman, was it? I assure you, we fifteen will take very good care of each other."
The hobbit still looked upset, but nodded firmly and stomped away, pausing only to briefly embrace Biliana where she stood. Then he left, quickly.
The Company began mounting their ponies. Out of the corner of his eye, Thorin spotted Gandalf assisting the halfling, who was clumsy, to say the least. He sneered and met Glóin's eye.
"As if we didn't have enough baggage," Glóin grumbled, perhaps a touch too loudly, judging by Balin's rebuking look.
"Mafarrakh d'afrukh," Thorin agreed, keeping his eyes on their supposed burglar.
The halfling was no more at ease sitting upon her pony than mounting it. Against his will, Thorin pitied her, and the soreness he knew she would feel later. He approved, then, when Nori rode up to her and began murmuring, gesturing to her various parts as he corrected her seating and posture. Thorin was less pleased, however, when the discussion became filled with laughter, and clearly no longer about her riding skills. By the time Bofur joined in, Thorin was downright glowering.
So it continued for three days. The halfling, though moving stiffly, was helpful enough in the mornings and evenings, assisting Bombur in cooking and serving the meals, always careful to serve Thorin first and quickly learning the proper order for serving the rest of the Company. She kept her bedroll a bit apart from the others, but within clear sight of the fire, and, aside from the first day, was never the last one to secure her things onto her pony.
The third night, Balin suggested they assign Miss Baggins the last watch, to test her before the road became too perilous. Thorin grumblingly agreed, though Dwalin said nothing. The dwarf king gave his eldest nephew the first watch, and took the second himself.
When the time came, Thorin quietly made his way to the halfling's bedroll and firmly shook her by the shoulder to wake her. She started upright with a gasp, but she quickly silenced herself and stood, making her way to the sentry post designated by Dwalin before he went to sleep. Thorin made his way to his own bedroll, and laid down, giving the appearance of sleep, but his eyes remained slits, open and watching.
The halfling seemed surprisingly comfortable in the assigned role, and kept her eyes scanning the clearing around them and glancing often towards the road. Her ears positively twitched at times, a bizarre sight, but Thorin took it to mean she was listening for possible danger, as well as looking, though he heard little to pay attention to.
Suddenly, their burglar was on her feet, staring deep into the dark. Just as suddenly, she relaxed, and hissed in a whisper both amused and annoyed -
"Where have you been off to all night?"
The thief strolled into the camp, his hands in his pockets.
"Just walkin'. Nice area, few folks around here!"
Strain as he might, Thorin could not hear the remainder of their brief conversation, but he did note the soft smile the hobbit gave the rascal before she resumed her sentry duties, nor the wink the dwarf sent her before heading to his bedroll. Then the night was quiet again, until foredawn, when the burglar woke their cook to start on breakfast.
Mostly satisfactory sentry keeping aside, the hobbit's presence still proved a distraction for many in the Company. Nori once went so far as to juggle knives from his saddle to amuse her, though Dori put an end to that foolishness before Thorin had to. Bofur and his kin remained near the lass, and quickly Kili and Fili were pulled into her presence, as well; Thorin turned more than once to see a smiling hobbit gently chide Kili for something or other - by the words he could hear, and the mix of happiness and irritation on Fili's face, he would surmise it was for teasing his elder brother about Svitha Rathévidatter, Fili's betrothed, a topic about which Kili never tired of crowing. So they rode, until they stopped and unpacked, then slept, and then repacked and rode again.
The new-found routine was altered the morning before they entered Bree. That morning the hobbit lingered amongst her bedding and pack as the others began to crowd around Bombur's cookpot.
Thorin glared the back of her auburn head. If she wished to loiter, so be it, but he would not delay their journey on her account; let her join them soon, or let her be hungry until the midday meal.
Nori and Glóin returned from scouting ahead as Bombur stirred the mixture with as satisfied sigh. Glóin rushed on ahead, but Nori paused as he passed the hobbit lass.
"What's that ye've got there, Billa?"
She lifted her head with a wry smile, holding up a … mass of leather? It appeared to be a number of smallish pieces of leather, which she was fastening together with leather cords.
"It's Bounder's armor. We keep it in pieces, so it takes less space in a pack. It can be a pain to put together, but I'll not enter Bree unarmed and unarmored."
The talk of armor drew Dwalin and Fili to her side, and the others listened intently. Dwalin peered intently down at her, and then huffed.
"You call this armor?"
She smiled. "It's nothing to your metal, to be sure, but it can - and has - stopped an arrow or two." She pulled the completed jerkin over her head and began to tighten the laces along her sides, until the two pieces were flush against each other, with not enough space between for a needle to pass through, and flaps hung neatly over her shoulders, hips, rear, and groin. The effect was … interesting.
The image of a soft hobbit, if not gone, was complicated by the leather-work; it was quite well done, to Thorin's eye, and Nori seemed to approve as well, if his low whistle was anything to go by. There was a touch or two of decoration: some of the leather had been cut into a pattern (it recalled scales to Thorin's eyes, but he suspected that the artisan had been thinking of leaves), and here and there some black thread curled like ivy along the edges of leather pieces. But the overall effect was quite martial.
The hobbit simply, suddenly, looked like a warrior. She also looked older, more mature: the leather hugged her curves far more than her flowing travel shirts had, and emphasized her form even more than her Shire-dresses. To his horror, Thorin felt his ears warm, and he turned sharply away as she began securing bracers to her forearms.
"Stopped an arrow?" Fili repeated, impressed. "Where'd you get this from?"
"Uncle Isembold made it." Billa rolled the cloth bags that had held the leather pieces tightly and placed them in her pack. "He does all the leather work for the Bounders, along with my cousin Ruby, but she's still learning."
"You mean it's yours? You mean you've been shot at before?!" Kili jumped up from his spot watching Bombur's cookpot, eyes wide, but she shook her head at him.
"No. I wanted to take my turn serving in the Bounders, but after Mother's death, Father couldn't bear me being gone so long, nor entering such danger. The armor was my mother's, in her time, and it served her well as she journeyed to Rivendell, Ered Luin, and back." She turned to her pack again and pulled out a bundle of dark cloth. Unwrapping it, she revealed two leather sheaths holding daggers with exquisite hilts. Made of green jade, they were carved to look like two green buds, still tightly closed, resting one on top of the other. She held them up for Fili's inspection.
"These were hers, as well. My mother was gifted these in Ered Luin, before she wed my father."
Fili took one of the sheaths, and, with an acquiescing nod from Billa, pulled the blade free. The dagger itself was slightly curved, grooved down the middle, and clearly deadly. Fili looked impressed, and glanced up at the burglar questioningly. "These have seen some use. Recently, from the looks of it."
"I thought ye said ye had no skill with weapons?" Nori accused. His eyes were alight with mischief, his fingers dancing on the hilt of his closest throwing knife.
Billa wagged a finger at the tone. "I said I had no skill with axe or sword, and I haven't. But I know the basics of dagger-play, at least." Billa reclaimed her dagger and sheathed it, strapping both to her waist, one on either side. Nori gave a disappointed sigh as the blades disappeared, and Billa gave Glóin a sly smile. "I suppose that makes me one step above the baggage, no?"
Glóin blushed deeply as Nori and the boys broke into a quickly stifled crack of laughter. A silence fell upon the camp as the dwarves took in this new information. A curse from Bombur broke the spell - breakfast, it seems, had begun to burn, and soon everyone was fed and packed, and the ponies were mounted and pointed along the path to Bree.
Miss Baggins had told Bofur that she intended to ride with Dwalin and Balin that day, to take the opportunity to know her new "kin" better, but one glance at the stiff back and darting eyes of the bald dwarf discouraged her completely, and again she rode between the merry dwarf and Nori. Fili and Kili rode up beside them, but a few quick words of Dwalin's, spoken in their rough native tongue, had them riding with Dwalin, his brother, and Thorin. The sons of Fundin flanked the others as they entered the mannish town. Everyone was visibly on alert, and even Bofur managed to stay silent.
They made their way to the Prancing Pony, which Bofur would later learn was an old favorite haunt of Bungo Baggins'. Balin, speaking for the Company, reserved five rooms, one with a man-sized bed with a child's cot for Gandalf and Miss Baggins to share, three rooms of three, and one room of four, which Dwalin, Thorin, and the lads were to share. Bofur and his kin quickly cared for their ponies in the stable, deposited their things in their room, and hurried to the bar, the Ri brothers close ebbed and flowed, and the tavern filled almost to bursting with patrons. Dwalin and Glóin had claimed a table near the rear door, with one side along the wall. Thorin sat near one end, with only Dwalin between him and the door; his nephews were seated on his other side, with Glóin next to them. Gandalf sat in front of Thorin, but their conversation soon turned to a quarrel, though the noise of the bar concealed the topic. Miss Baggins, Bofur noted, had not yet appeared.
Not inclined to worry over the arguments of his betters, or to fret that a lady was taking her time, Bofur downed three pints and was well into his fourth when their hobbit lass emerged, dressed in her leathers and a flowing skirt. Her auburn hair hung free in tight curls past her shoulders, a first in the dwarves' company, making her face seem less bare, and the merry miner forgot his words as he looked upon her. He dimly heard a "thunk!" as Ori's tankard fell from his fingers.
"Miss Baggins!" Dori jumped up as she neared them, and rushed to pull out the free chair for her. "Oh, don't you look lovely… did you find the washroom to your liking?"
"Yes… oh, thank you!... of course I did. The Pony is always lovely, even with grumpy patrons," she smirked as she glanced down the table, watching Gandalf and Thorin argue as Dwalin glowered on.
"You've been here before?" Bofur's voice did not crack, an accomplishment of which he was inordinately proud. He sent a charitable kick in Ori's direction, and the scribe jolted in his seat before blushing deeply.
"Billa!" The merry voice of the barkeep answered the question, and the large man swept the petite hobbit up from her seat into his arms with a boisterous laugh, her curls dancing wildly behind her. "Lass! Look how've you grown! As bonnie as your mother!" His countenance fell. "Sorry to hear, my lass, 'bout your father, and sorry we couldn't come. You've been alright? You look well."
She smiled sadly, patting his meaty arm as he set her down. "Thank you. I am… as well as I suppose I could be. Gandalf has been a gladdening presence, and my new friends make sorrow hard to hold!" She gestured to the dwarves, her smile now tightly impish.
"Good, lass, good. Do you think you could share that gladness with a song? Been a long time…"
Gandalf winced, but asked calmly enough, "Have you heard her sing, Butterbeer?"
The fat man laughed at the wizard's face. "Ah, she ain't Belladonna's only, Greyhame, and well you know it! She had to get something from her fine father! Regular songbird, she is; and plays almost as well as he did! Speaking of..." He hurried away into a closet and came back holding a wooden stringed instrument. "Dunno if you remember this, lass, you were so little, but your father left this cittern behind once after a visit with you and your ma. Couldn't find it the next time you all stopped by, and he said never to fret about it! Found it this last spring, when Betsy was doing a spot of cleaning in the cellar."
She took the instrument lovingly, almost reverently. She held it in her left hand as she pulled her chair out with her right, settling herself in with space between both the table and her companions. She hummed a note as she plucked each string, quietly and efficiently tuning it. Strumming them all when she was satisfied, she looked up. "Requests?"
Dwalin, surprisingly, spoke first. "Play us a Shire tune, lass. It's a night for gentle songs."
She smiled, returning her gaze to her strings. She played a soft but happy tune, and, best of all, soon joined her voice to the music. Her clear, high voice dance around words of dewy mornings and calm sunsets, laughing breezes and tinkling brooks. She sang of good earth and fertile seed that would grow to provide life and comfort. She thanked the land as if it were her father, and honored the sun as if her mother. Bofur felt a joy, quieter than his normal merriment, settle in his breast, and, judging by the softening of their set shoulders, his companions felt much the same.
Her song ended, and she looked up, appearing startled to find she had an audience. She blushed, quiet prettily.
"That was wonderful!" Dori cried out, clapping his hands together. The rest of the Company, and many of the tavern's patrons besides, were quick to agree. She blushed again, deeper than before, and demurred, until Thorin spoke.
"Well said; you play and sing quite well, Miss Baggins."
Her eyes widened, and Bofur couldn't blame the lass. That might have been the first time the king spoke to her since leaving the Shire, and surely the first in such a gentle tone.
"T-thank you." She glanced down before returning her gaze to his. "My father… he loved music. And loved teaching me."
"A task well completed, it seems." The Longbeard king's mouth twitched into was almost could be called a smirk - would be called a smirk, if Bofur had seen it on anyone else's face. The behatted dwarf looked over at his cousin Bifur, who was wearing a rather satisfied smirk of his own.
Kili broke the moment with a rather boisterous demand for another song. Miss Baggins smiled, indulgent, and soon her fingers were racing upon the strings, playing a song more obviously associated with drinking and good company than her previous. It apparently was well known in Bree, for the assembled men and hobbits quickly joined in, making a raucous of sound in which her own soft voice was lost. Bofur caught sight of Nori singing lustily one moment, and the next ducking beneath a Man's arm and vanishing into the night. One song turned into two, then three, before she was able to relinquish her instrument and another took the lead, and the songs continued.
Soon the night was spent, and slowly the crowd dispersed, until even Bofur departed for bed. They did not long linger in Bree, but departed the next day, much to Dwalin's relief, Bungo Baggins's cittern wrapped tightly in oiled skins and secured on Myrtle's back.
Once safely out of the mannish town, the royal lads made their way back to the back of the troupe, to joke and chat with Bofur and Miss Baggins. Prince Kili soon grew bored, however, and made to snatch at the golden locket Prince Fili always seemed to have at hand. Miss Baggins reacted before the elder prince could, firmly smacking the mischievous lad's hand away.
"Enough of that!" she scolded. "Must you always be plaguing him?"
The princeling only laughed. "What else is there to do on the road?"
The hobbit sighed dramatically at the prince, making him laugh harder. She turned to his brother, a soft look on her face,
"I do admit myself curious, however," she said. "What is your betrothed like?"
Bofur was curious himself. He knew the lady, of course, if only by reputation. She had a fine one, having the lucky combination of a fair face, quick mind, and skillful hands. Still, he wondered which of her charms first drew a royal eye.
Prince Fili smiled down at his locket. "Calm."
The halfling looked surprised. "Calm?"
"Completely unflappable. She faces down wary mothers, drunk dwarrow, and charging orcs with the same... I don't even really know how to describe it. It's a mix of a laugh and sigh." He laughed himself. "And I have learned to fear it more than Amad shouting."
"Aye, that's as it should be," Bofur put in, his laughter prompting the princes to join in and their hobbit to smile.
"How did you meet?"
"We've known each other most of our lives," the blond dwarf told Miss Baggins. "Her kin joined us in Thorin's Halls when Kili was only a wee bairn." he sent a smirk at his younger brother, who only rolled his eyes. "The Blacklocks - her Clan - have always been on rather good terms with the Longbeards, and the Line of Durin.
"I first noticed her, really noticed, three years ago. She went along on an inspection of one of the more distant ore veins, one of the few that require actually leaving our Halls. They were late returning home." Though he was only recounting a tale that ended well, Fili frowned, remembering that concern. "Just when we were about to send out a search party, they returned, Svitha in front. She was covered in orc blood but asked, calm as could be, to speak to the captain on duty. She then processed to eviscerate him without even raising her voice or wavering in her comportment an inch." Fili smiled then, as Kili behind him mouthed the next part of the story.
"I made her first courting gift that night."
Bofur grinned, having heard many times of that incident himself. He thought he rather approved of it making as much an impression on a prince as on everyone else.
Miss Baggins beamed, and as the day continued, she kept Fili in great spirits, asking of the virtues of Lady Svitha.
Two nights more had them staying at an inn, at the edge of the Lonelands, much quieter than the Pony, everyone there having a fatigued wariness about them. Miss Baggins was not asked, and did not volunteer, to sing. That night, it began to rain.
The rain continued in the morning, fell harder in the afternoon, and harder still in the evening. The next morning found the dwarves, who had been denied a hot meal three times in a row and were enduring wet blankets and bedrolls, cloaks, and saddles, irritable and grumbling.
"Oye, Mister Gandalf, sir!" Dori shouted up the line in a tone somehow both rude and deferential, "can't you do something about this deluge?"
"It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to do so until it has stopped," the wizard huffed. "If you wish for command over the weather, find yourself another wizard."
Bofur chuckled at the wizard's irritation, but Miss Baggins seemed intrigued.
"Are there any? Other wizards, I mean?"
"There are five of us," Gandalf told her, taking the posture of a schoolmaster. "First is Saruman, the White, the head of my Order and a great master of lore and craft. Then there are – or were, we have not had word of them in many a year – the two Blue… what were their names? Alatar and Pallando, was it? Or were they called Morinehtar and Rómestámo? Ah, the years have been long, and even their faces have faded from my memory. They journeyed into the East, to succor the men of the East, long burdened by the tyranny of the Enemy. And the last is Radagast, the Brown."
Bofur forgot the rain for a moment when he saw the twinkle in their hobbit's eyes.
"And is he a great wizard?" she asked. "Or is he more like you?"
Bofur glanced beside him when he heard a snort, but all he saw was Thorin staring at the landscape before them.
"I think he is a very great wizard!" The wizard huffed, "in his own way. He is the friend of all birds and beasts, speaking their tongues and protecting them against the encroaching darkness. Still, he is an odd sort."
"Well," the hobbit lass allowed. "A great wizard, I suppose, is allowed his particularities."
Another snort, and this time Bofur thought he detected a quick tug on Thorin's lip. An old branch cracked then, falling limp like a bent elbow, dumping the water collected in its thick leaves upon Kili's head. A series of loud oaths followed, and the conversation between halfling and wizard was abandoned in the din of the Company's laughter.
The rain finally stopped the next morning, but the journey did not much improve. Three further days of riding through rather bleak lands passed, until they approached a river and a bridge of distressingly elfish character, before which the dwarves halted to refill their water skins. Kili and Fili were first off their ponies, and the youngest prince was in the river, thanks to a well-executed grapple by his brother, even before the remaining Company had fetched their waterskins.
Miss Baggins paused after dismounting, still a ways away from the riverbed, before turning to the Northeast, defiance in her stance and speaking in a tongue Bofur didn't know -but whatever she said in that low, but not quiet voice, it wasn't kind.
"What was that?" Kili asked, looking up at her with damp locks, and a quick glance showed that Fili's hair was wet now, too.
The hobbit pointed back to the northeast.
"That way is Mount Gram. Two hundred years ago, the goblins there invaded the Shire, and made war upon us. My many-times great uncle, the Bullroarer, drove them back to their mountain pits, but neither we nor they have ever forgotten. In harsh winters, sometimes, they skulk back towards our lands, but the Bounders and Rangers have kept them in check, mostly." She looked up from carefully filling her waterskin to gesture towards the bridge. "This place is called the Last Bridge, and so far as any hobbit within memory has gone, it is. It has been custom since Bullroarer's time, whensoever a halfling of the Shire stops here, to note that Mount Gram still stands and then curse it, that it might collapse upon itself."
Fili looked impressed, and Bifur pleased, but Bofur noted many of the Company looking at her in surprise, either on account of her narrative or because it was more than those who did not ride with her had heard her say at once.
Then Kili piped in, confused. "What's a goblin?"
Miss Baggins looked down again at the river - Bofur could see the smile she was trying to hide - and Fili rolled his eyes.
"It's another word for orc," Balin told the younger dwarf prince. "I've heard the men around Bree use it, but few besides. Is it of Shire-origin?"
Their halfling shrugged. "Perhaps. Even our most official records use goblin instead of orc."
"It is a Shire-word," Gandalf remarked from where he sat by the riverside, smoking his pipe. "And a fine word, I think. 'Orc' has a sort of mystique about it, while 'goblin' robs the creatures of the grandeur that fear brings." He rose, putting out his pipe. "But I think our noble leader is eager to depart."
Bofur looked at Thorin, who was standing by Minty and, indeed, looked impatient to be off. They crossed over the bridge - made of good stone, but of ridiculous design in Bofur's opinion - and entered into a much greener land than they had left. They rode for some time more, but stopped earlier in the evening than they had in the Lonelands, as the light coming through the trees was dimmed, and some light was needed to prepare the camp. A suitable spot was quickly found, and they all took a long moment to relax upon their bedrolls and stretch out any aches caused by the day's ride.
Thorin was glad, though he would never admit it, to order the early stop. Wanting some time away from the wizard, and his nagging insistence that they needed to visit the elves of Rivendell, he had ridden behind most of the Company that afternoon, and had watched as the melekinh - her riding improving but by no means good - bounced in her saddle. Besides, the early stop left Dwalin with a chance to put Fili and Kili through their paces; it wasn't good for young warriors to spend too much time without holding the blade in their hands. A quick series of hand gestures had Dwalin rounding up a grumbling Kili and a resigned Fili, but he surprised his king by pausing besides the smallest of the bedrolls.
"Alright, lass, on your feet."
The halfling looked up at Dwalin, blinking. He gestured firmly.
"Ye showed off those pretty daggers; now I want to see if yeh know how to use 'em."
"I think your standard of 'using them' might differ from mine," Miss Baggins admitted with a grimace, very carefully not looking at Thorin's face. "But very well." With that, she stood and followed Dwalin away from the campsite towards the rough clearing he had chosen for running Fili and Kili through their drills.
The wizard had apparently decided, much to Thorin's chagrin, that his respite was over and came up to him, once again prattling on again about Rivendell, and its loremaster Lord.
"I will not visit that den of elves!" Thorin interrupted the wizard. "As I have told you, I learned long ago not to trust in elven goodwill. Even if this Elrond can discover more of this map than its rightful owner, I see no reason to assume he would."
"And as I have told you, Elrond Peredhel is as noble a lord as lives in Middle Earth today, and is as wise as those with twice his years." Gandalf huffed as he leaned on his staff. "You would find no enemy in Rivendell, nor any ill-will, save that which you brought yourself."
"Which is none, as I shall not step foot in that place." Thorin turned away, thinking maybe to assist Dwalin in the training of his sister-sons.
"I did not give you that map and key for you to hold onto the past like some petulant child!"
The dwarven king rounded back on the wizard. "I did not know they were yours to keep!" he bit back in a tone that caused many of his Company to flinch and edge away. "Or has a member of the White Counsel descended to tomb robbing and filching?"
Gandalf's face was thunderous, but he did not respond, instead storming off into the woods, his horse following faithfully behind, muttering about the stubbornness of dwarves. Thorin looked about, but none dared to meet his eye, and he settled down on a log near the fire in a foul humor, ignoring the muted noises of the camp preparing for the night ahead as he waited for his supper.
He was let be for some time, until his mood began to soften; then Dwalin and his students returned, Fili and Kili groaning and collapsing on their bedrolls; the hobbit –whose braid had completely fallen apart-sported a few marks that would clearly become bruises, and moved stiffly, but she took her usual spot by Bombur and began to assist the large dwarf in making dinner.
"She's not terrible," Dwalin began without preamble as he took his seat beside his king, his brother quickly joining them. "No bad habits I need to break, from what she showed today. Fili scored most of the hits, but the lass never made the same mistake twice in a row, and kept up the whole time." He paused to accept his waterskin from Balin and took a swig. "She'll have to rely more on cunning and swiftness than strength, but give me some time with her, and she'll keep herself alive in any rumble we get into, least long enough for us to handle it."
Thorin raised an eyebrow and inclined his head, encouraging Dwalin to continue.
"She doesn't have much killing instinct, mind; she'll never be a warrior. But she knows more about fighting than Ori or the Ur brothers - though Bifur's getting his cousins up to snuff quickly enough," he shrugged. "Still, she had good teachers when it came to form. Never once dropped a blade, even when Kili knocked her into a tree."
Kili glanced over at that, blushing fiercely.
"She didn't complain, either," Dwalin finished.
"She might tomorrow, when the soreness sinks in," Thorin warned.
"We'll have to see," Balin smiled, gesturing behind them in warning. Bombur, apparently, was satisfied with the dinner and had ladled it into bowls for the hobbit to pass around. As always, she handed Thorin his meal first, then Balin, racing back to grab Dwalin's before continuing on to hand everyone their bowls and settling down with her own food. She paused then, looking around in confusion.
"Where's Gandalf?"
The Company groaned and Thorin glowered; Nori quickly filled their burglar in. Her face paled slightly, and she seemed to eye the shadows more warily than before. Foul humor returned, Thorin was silent - and the Company quiet - as the meal was finished and cleaned up, and the nightly watch rotation set up. Before they went to bed, however, Dwalin surprised his king yet again.
"Lass, come o'er here. I'll fix your braids before you go to sleep."
The hobbit looked bemused, and several members of the Company gave him wide eyes, but she came to him with her brush and her ties without comment, and Dwalin quickly had her hair tucked into a strong braid that would withstand sleep, travel, and training better than her own handiwork had. He patted her shoulder once done, and she went to her bedroll, Dwalin quickly following her lead himself, as did all except Balin, who had the first watch.
The next morning showed no sign of the Wizard, nor did he meet them upon the road. The weather did not help any fraying temperaments; rain came again, somehow more abundantly than before. Thick, cold raindrops splattered over the road, the ponies, and them. The wind picked up, sweeping the rain under their hoods and onto their faces. Pretty soon, they were all thoroughly miserable, and, unable to see even a few paces in front of them, Thorin called for a halt.
Not even Óin or Glóin could get a fire going, and thus dinner was only a hard biscuit (which several held out in the rain to moisten), a strip of jerky, and an apple - the last of the fresh fruit. Eying their stores, Thorin sent out Dwalin, Fili, and Kili to forage. Kili, of course, was to stay with his brother, for while his eye was improving, he still brought inedible things back from his foragings around Ered Luin one time out of three. He debated sending out the halfling, too, if only to test her own skills in the wilderness, but decided against the idea; it would just be that day's luck that she would get lost and they would have to rescue her.
The rain eased, and then stopped, about half an hour after Thorin had sent the foragers off. He looked at the sky with a mix of relief and irritation; while he was grateful their sleep would not be a wet one, couldn't the skies have dammed up their waters in time for a warm dinner? Not twenty minutes later, Dwalin was back, less prizes than might have been expected, but with a serious face.
"There's a fire, not ten minutes' walk from where we are," he told the Company in his gruff voice, pointing to the northwest.
"Who is it? Did you see? Are they friend or foe? Did they see you?" Dori asked without taking a breath. His thieving brother rolled his eyes.
"Of course I didn't look, bund'thurkûn!" Dwalin growled, gesturing to himself. "Wearing and carrying all this? They'd have heard me before I got halfway to the camp." He turned to Thorin. "I'll head over once I've had a chance to -"
"Don't be silly." The halfling, of all people, interrupted. "I'll go."
Every head snapped to her. She blushed, but did not look down or step away.
"You hired me to burgle a dragon," she reminded them. "Surely, seeing what sorts of neighbors we've got is a simple enough task, compared to that."
The dwarrow all looked at Thorin. His brow furrowed, but after a few minutes he spoke: "Go. Be careful - but don't expect us to risk all our lives for you if you're caught." He suddenly added, surprising himself.
Balin and Dwalin looked at him in disappointment bordering on anger, and the rest of the Company froze, but the burglar just huffed.
"I won't be caught." She said it almost as if it were funny. Without letting him speak another word, she faded into the woods in the direction Dwalin had indicated.
Whatever the unknown person or persons were, they smelled terrible. Billa smelled them almost as soon as she left the camp (had it really taken Dwalin almost an hour to notice?). So not Rangers, then - while they frequented this part of the Trollshaws, they held themselves and their equipment to a high standard of cleanliness. Willing herself invisible, she creeped closer and closer to the visible fire, breathing out of her mouth so she wouldn't gag. Eventually, she even had to wrap a handkerchief around her nose and mouth to blunt the odor. But onward she pressed, until she reached the edge of the camp.
Well, they're certainly not friendly neighbors, Billa thought as she stared up at the three monstrous trolls. She had never seen a troll in person before, and for a long moment she merely looked up upon their hideous faces with a fascinated abhorrence. But then her good hobbit sense awoke, and she made to sneak back to her Company's camp, to warn them that, for all their sakes, it was best not to linger.
She was moving silently away when disaster struck. Kili, laughing so hard he was silent, bounded straight into the clearing, a locket on a chain dangling from his fist. He skidded to a stop, eyes going wide at the sight of the three monstrous creatures in front of him. He slowly began to step back, but the trolls started, and eyes began to move towards his location. Billa threw herself forward, willing herself fully visible.
"Hello there!"
Translations:
Amad: mother
Bund'thurkûn: rock-head
Mafarrakh d'afrukh: a burden to carry
Melekinh: hobbit lass
