Spring, by this point, had undeniably arrived. Despite the dreary and lengthy winter months from the year just passed, this year looked like it would be an improvement; for the fowl had returned unexpectedly early from their winter trek, the daisies were exploding along the hillsides in their masses and the Fallow deer could be seen prancing about just past the Water, disregarding the fact that it was still April.
Through the stained glass window, Morlia looked upon the dozing village below. No light came from the other windows, so it was difficult to see much at all. It was cracked open an inch, and Morlia could feel a slight breeze on her worn fingertips as she leant against the top of the frame.
She withdrew herself and glanced around the room of sleeping dwarrows; all snoring away. And she touched her trouser pocket, which sagged under the weight of her silver coins, and she scanned the clock on the mantle piece. Bilbo's home smelled of books and ink, but it wasn't as cold and distant as the ancient libraries of the Valar; for it kept a cosy air about it, and held morals closer to the heart.
Morlia let out a breath, that rose through the cold morning air like smoke, as she strode out of Bilbo's home, trod down the flagstone steps and out of the little gate and onto the path. The iron at the end of her boots clinking against the rock, rousing a sleeping nest of Starlings from the top of the doorframe, who twittered profusely.
"Going somewhere?"
Morlia tripped a little and whipped her head around to see Thorin, who seemed to have slept outdoor. She could barely spot him- he almost melted into the darkness overhanging Bilbo's home.
She drew the coins from her pocket and waved them at him, "I don't want to walk all the way to Erebor."
Thorin smiled a little, "I am sure you could do it. I don't think it would be much of a task for you, having walked this far from Lake Evendim anyway."
The corners of Morlia's mouth were twitching, "You want to try it? Sure, let me have your pony instead," and she motioned to where the ponies were.
"I would not give you Bungo for all the coins you have there! Go buy you own."
"I am going, I'm going," Morlia waved him down as she continued down the hill, then she turned and called, "How much do you think they are going for?"
"40 pieces," came her reply.
Morlia scoffed and proceeded on, down Bag Shot row.
Wind snaked along the cobble path as it ran to escape the day's full awakening. The glistening deep water of the river ensnared the glow from the Mill, whose wooden waterwheel churned and sprayed droplets; allowing the first light of the sun to catch them before they tumbled back below.
Approaching Bywater, the land sloped downhill and withheld a large pond, coincidently named Bywater Pool. On the right was the little green Post Office and a tall inn, covered in ivy, with a middle-aged Hobbit sitting on its dirty steps. Across from it, laid the Green Dragon pub, which was enveloped between the by Smials for the richer Hobbits and the Pool itself.
Smoke fumbled out from the chimneys and a wren chirped from the rooftop as Morlia stepped out of the morning's cold air and into the warmth of the pub, the dampened smell of ale drifting towards her. There weren't many Hobbits about.
Though there was one, propped up on a stool at the bar, staring at her.
"What's a dwarf doing in these parts?" his posh voice rang out; his pronunciation unusual for West Farthing.
Morlia bowed and greeted him sincerely, "Good morning, sir. I am in need of a pony to continue my journey home, could you be so kind as to point me to where I might find one?"
The Hobbit eyed her for a moment longer, then a smile broke out suddenly from behind his serious demeanour.
The Hobbit puffed on his pipe and pointed out of the door, "South Lane, dear. Leads to the Cotton's farm, I am sure old Holman won't mind you buying one of his." He then invited her over to him, and stuck out his hand, "My name is Fortinbras, Thain of the Shire, from the Grand Tookborough Smials. I look after the land here."
"Morlia, Daughter of Morina, Dwarf of Erebor," she shook his hand, firmly.
The bar-keeper poked his head out from behind a wooden pillar, his eyes widening from behind his spectacles, which were propped up at the very edge of his round nose.
Fortinbras hummed on his pipe, eyes shining in amusement at the bar-keepers nosey antics, then shook his head, "You must excuse me, my dear, for I have not heard of Erebor," he gave a friendly smile, "- though I am sure it is a wonderful place," he reassured her.
"No apologies are needed, good Thain." Morlia smiled briefly, then began to walk to the door, thanking him.
"But do mind along the South bank," Fortinbras called after her, "There is a drunk named Noakes who wanders around the Ivy Bush Inn: you may want to keep an eye out for him."
"Thank you, Thain Fortinbras."
When she got outside, she touched her tattered eye patch tenderly and frowned back through the doorway. Then lumbered on, down South Lane, through an avenue lined with trees.
It was almost mid-day. Hobbiton was awake and Hobbits went about their usual business; tending to their crops, going out to market, washing clothes, doing Hobbity things… but Bilbo Baggins wasn't.
He was sprinting as fast as he could down The Hill, leaping fences and tripping down the grassy banks, absolutely adamant to get to the Company.
"Where are you off to, Mister Bilbo?" Holman Greenhand yelled, standing with one hand on top his floppy hat, the other clenching his trowel.
Bilbo looked back at his rather confused gardener, a smile plastered on his face.
Meanwhile, the Company were well on their way, trotting along with their ponies, accepting that they were a number just fourteen. The sun beamed down at them and the smell of Hobbiton had just about left them.
"I said it. Didn't I say it?" Dori tutted, "Coming here was a waste of time!"
"That's true enough," grunted Gloin.
"Ridiculous notion. Use a Hobbit? A Halfling?"
"Who's idea was it anyway?"
"I bet," Nori muttered, "that he will come."
Dori turned sharply to his brother and frowned, disapprovingly.
"Oi, lad, what was that?" Gloin raised his voice.
"Five pieces, Gloin, you old geezer," Nori called out, "Bilbo will come."
Gloin grumbled and squinted his eyes at him, "Fine then laddie, I might as well make a couple of coins out of this."
Balin shook his head at their stupidity, "Nori, lad, you are making a fools bet."
Silence followed.
"Fifteen pieces that he will come," he concluded.
And all the rest of the dwarrows suddenly started yelling their own bets: the wizard included.
"I'll bet against that, brother," Morlia chuckled beside Balin, "I paid a good fortune for Fortinbras here," she said, patting her pony.
"Leia," shouted Kili, "I don't think you'll be wanting to do that, do you really think Mr. Boggins is just going to hole himself away?"
"Yes."
"Well, I don't think so!"
"Oh, do you now?" she replied.
"Wait!" A small voice cried out behind them.
The entire Company stopped and turned to look, as Bilbo Baggins stumbled out of the blue. Their ponies pulled against their reins and neighed in objection.
"I signed it!"
Morlia's face crumpled.
"Here." Bilbo handed the contract to Balin, smiling, and Balin received it graciously.
After Balin was done scrutinizing it through his small eye glass, his mouth twitched up into a small smile. "Everything appears to be in order," he tilted his head, winked, then chuckled, throwing a glance at Gandalf to his right, and chuckling at Morlia, who was disgruntled on his left, "Welcome, Master Baggins! To the Company of Thorin Oakenshield."
Bilbo smiled, almost nervously, as the rest of the Company chuckled away.
"Give him a pony."
Bilbo held out his hands and waved the suggestion away in horror, "No, no, that won't be necessary," he gushed, "Thank you. I'm sure I can keep up on foot! I've done my fair share of walking holidays, you know? Even got as far as Frogmorton once-" But in a blink of an eye, Fili and Kili had grabbed the back of Bilbo's arms and hefted him up onto the pony, who threw her head back and snorted in protest. Bilbo grabbed the reins so hard that his knuckles turned white. And the Company continued onwards.
"Come on, Gloin. Pay up," Nori boasted. Gloin reluctantly tossed a small sack across to him.
"One more for you there, Nori," Fili signalled, as another sack was thrown to him.
Morlia grumbled as she, Dwalin and Thorin all tossed their own coins into Balin's open hand, who chuckled and slipped them into his pocket, patting it happily.
Bilbo looked back, frowned and turned to Gandalf, opening his mouth, about to say something but he shut it again and furrowed his eyebrows.
"Oh, they took wagers whether or not you'd turn up," Gandalf elaborated, noting Bilbo's confusion, "Most of them bet that you wouldn't."
Bilbo felt quite affronted, "And what did you think?"
Gandalf grumbled, "Well..." Then caught a brown sack of his own, jingling it before stowing it away. "My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second."
They continued over the Brandywine Bridge along the Great East Road, through the Old Forest, over small streams, past the Midgewater Marshes, through Bree, past Weathertop and they could no longer spot the White Downs with its chalk cliffs, for now they were past the East Farthing border and Greenhill country. The fields became plains and the hills became small rock cliffs as they traipsed on. And Bilbo's home drifted further and further away from him.
Home. What a strange familiarity.
Clouds pummelled in overhead, filling the sky with the potential thought of rain. Great lumps of rock that jutted towards the sky tore through the picturesque view of the sun, breaking through the high-heavens, silhouetted in black like the grand shadows of what had passed on this every earth over two ages ago. The ground seeped with the fading golden light above and the bushes rustled with the sound of Starling's wings folding after a long day in the grasslands. The wind was warm enough, but it was quite sharp and quick and bit at Bilbo's feet, which made the hair on his toes waver.
Bilbo felt slightly nostalgic. All his books and adventures he had read, could never begin to re-create the utter beauty of what lay around him. He sniffed, scrunching his nose, then tilted his head a little, his lips pressing into a thin smile.
"Are you well, Mister Baggins?"
Bilbo was brought out of his daze and he turned to the speaker, "Um, yes, very well, thank you, erm, Mister..."
"Bofur," Bofur provided.
"Yes, Mister Bofur, I am quite well," Bilbo nodded.
They rode together in an awkward silence for a while, the hilly grasslands stretching out beneath them, then it dawned on Bilbo, quite unexpectedly, that he really knew nothing of the very people he was travelling with.
He turned to Bofur, who turned and grinned at him, ear to ear. Bilbo briefly smiled back, and they continued a little further.
"Mister Bofur," Bilbo began.
"Now, now- call me Bofur, I am no Mister and I won't claim to be one."
"Bofur," Bilbo continued, "I was wondering-"
"That's good, you know- me mam always said wondering was the key to a closed door," Bofur nodded, impressed with Bilbo. "Though, she also said it was the worst mistake you can do when travelling, could lead you off in any direction," he turned to Bilbo, who was looking rather confused. Then he winked, "No, go on lad, what was it you were wondering about?"
Bilbo rubbed under his nose and shrugged, "Well, I know so little about dwarves," he glanced at Bofur, whose hat bounced a bit with every step the pony took, "and I thought, well maybe, you could tell me about yourself...?" He sniffed.
Bofur threw his head back and laughed a bit, much to Bilbo's dismay, as others turned round to look at them.
"Well, in all seriousness, Mister Baggins, I do not think there is much to tell! I am a simple miner from the Blue Mountains! I am even plainer still when I say I value my cheese and pies over the work I do for a living, though mining isn't too difficult to love when you get used to it. I am simply opting for easy gold and a free beer when I can get one."
Bilbo nodded slowly, raising his eyebrows a tad, "There's nothing wrong with food, I can tell you."
"Oh?"
"Us Hobbits like our food almost as much as our homes," Bilbo explained, fondly, "We tend to have seven meals a day, when we can."
"Seven, by my beard! When I was a young'n, we were lucky to have dinner by the end of the day!"
Bilbo frowned and turned to Bofur, who's eyes glinted in the fading light, "How come? Had you no time?"
Bofur furrowed his brows and pursed his lips, thoughtfully, "For a start, I suppose, we had very little money. As I said, I am a miner, or I was a miner, and so were my family. Mining doesn't tend to give you the best wages, but we scraped by best we could." Then his mouth twitched up in a smile, which should've looked slightly more of a grimace than anything, but he smiled none the less.
Bilbo hummed and smiled back quickly, "Family?"
"Yes, me mam, pa, Bombur," he waved his hand at his brother ahead of them, "and cousin Bifur. We have a small family, but we love each other through and through, even though it can be more tough love than anything else," Bofur let out a small chuckle.
They rode on in silence a little more.
"And the others? What do they do?"
"Well, my brother, cousin and I were miners, but a cook, a toymaker and a musician at heart. The rest of the Company, well, we aren't all gallant warriors, as you may think," Bofur winked, "Yes, well, Gloin's family come from a wealthy background, so he's obviously a treasurer, though Oin is a healer, no idea where that came about. They both share a great-grandfather with Dwalin, Balin and Morlia, and they all come from the line of Durin, like Thorin, Fili and Kili, here. Dwalin is quite obviously a warrior-"
Bilbo hummed quietly, and Bofur grinned.
"-Balin, well he was Thorin's advisor and one of the old captains. Morlia, on the other hand, she was a warrior too, fought alongside Dwalin, though she actually turned to treasure hunting when Erebor fell."
"Treasure hunting?"
"Oh yes! She has found some of the most marvellous places, or so she tells me," Bofur laughed. "Fili and Kili aren't really anything yet, but they have a good enough life; being nephews of the king and all. Dori, Nori and Ori… they come a mixed background," his voice turned to whisper and came closer to Bilbo, "We aren't actually too sure they all had the same father," he then leant back on his pony, "Ori is a scribe, Nori, in my eyes, a well-thought of thief and Dori… I guess he must've been looking after the two."
The sun had now disappeared from view behind the rocks and callouses along the hillside.
"Mister Bilbo, I doubt we are as interesting as you might've imagined, but that's all we have I'm afraid."
"No!" Bilbo shook his head in defiance, "Much more interesting than the Hobbits in the shire, I tell you!"
Bofur adjusted his hat and looked amused.
"And Bofur?"
"Aye?"
"It's just Bilbo."
