The next morning, as the company woke, it had begun to drizzle. They had to make due with some dried meats and fruits for breakfast since the fire had died out with the rain. They never heard the end of it from Bombur. As the day continued, so did the rain, and the slight drizzle turned into a torrential downpour and continued all through lunch, leaving the company soggy and sullen. Still they trudged on, relatively silently, until Dori spoke, sounding something like a disgruntled old lady.
"Wizard!" he called to Gandalf, who was about four or five ponies ahead of him, "is there any way you can stop this abhorrent storm?" Gandalf replied almost instantly.
"It is raining, master dwarf," he began as if speaking to a small child, "and it will continue raining whether you wish it to or not. If you'd like to change matters of the weather, then you should have brought along a different wizard."
"Are there?" Bilbo asked suddenly, pushing Myrtle to move a tad faster so she could catch up to Gandalf, "Other wizards, I mean."
"Oh, certainly, Bilbo," the wizard replied with a smile, "we total five in number. The most powerful of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are two blue wizards—whose names I never am able to remember."
"Who's the fifth?" Montie chimed in from a little farther back. She had been engaged in a conversation with Ori and Nori but had excused herself as soon as she heard the words "more" and "wizards" in more-or-less the same sentence.
"Well," Gandalf chuckled a little, "that would be Radagast, the Brown."
"Is he a great wizard? Or is he more like you?" Bilbo asked, completely serious. The gray wizard frowned a bit, but quickly composed himself.
"Radagast is a great wizard in his own sort of way," he mused, "He's a gentle soul; he keeps watch over the great forests of the East, since he prefers the company of animals to that of others." Montie smiled at that.
"I think I'd like this wizard," she said, "I'd hope to meet him someday."
Montie had conversations with almost every member of the company by the time the rain stopped in the late afternoon. Everyone except the ever-majestic King Under the Mountain and his faithful guard. Both Thorin and Dwalin seemed in their own world when it came to traveling, speaking quietly among themselves, and occasionally including some of the older dwarves, like Balin or Gloin. Montie was stuck in an…interesting conversation with Dori and Bilbo about the merits of hand-knitted tea cozies when she heard the sound of boisterous laughter from up ahead, and quickly excused herself. Fili and Kili, she noted, were the culprits. They were throwing stones they had collected along the road and testing their arms in a competition of how many pinecones they could knock from the trees in one throw. By the looks on their faces, Kili seemed to be winning.
"It's because you're an archer," Fili grumbled, scowling at the back of his pony's head, "you're required to have good aim."
"Admit it, brother dear," Kili grinned at his older sibling, "you just can't aim worth a…"
"Mind if I give it a whirl, lads?" Montie interrupted, guiding her pony, Daffodil, between the two brothers, "I've been told I've got the best conkers pitching arm in the Shire." Both dwarves seemed surprised by her sudden entrance, but they both quickly smiled.
"It would be our honor," Fili gave her a small bow and handed her a couple of stones.
"Take a few of mine, too!" Kili said, handing over some of his own stones, "Some of my good aim likely rubbed off on them, though I'm sure you'd do better than Fi regardless." Fili frowned when Montie giggled and stuck his tongue out at his younger brother.
"I assure you, Kili," she furrowed her brow as she focused on an upcoming cluster of pinecones, "I've got all the luck I need." Before either dwarf could blink, Montie hummed one of her rocks at the pinecones, knocking all seven of them from their spot on the branch and directly onto Dwalin's head. Montie and the princes cringed. Dwalin stiffened, immediately ceasing his conversation with Gloin, and glanced back towards the trio.
"Oh my, Master Dwalin!" Montie put her hands up to her mouth in her most convincing shocked expression, "You should've seen the size of the squirrel that knocked down those pinecones! It looked more like a house cat if you ask me!" Fili tried to hold back his face-splitting grin and Kili coughed in an attempt to hide his laughter.
"Huge squirrel, Dwalin. Simply enormous," was all Fili could choke out. The older dwarf narrowed his eyes a bit and slowly turned back around. Immediately, the hobbit and the dwarven princes burst into hysterical laughter.
"I—I can't believe he fell for that!" Kili wheezed, clutching his sides as he rocked back and forth on his pony's saddle. Montie lost herself in her heartfelt laughter, but was quickly brought back to reality when she snorted. Rather loudly, in fact. And more than once. Immediately her chortles ceased, and her face turned bright red with embarrassment. Kili only laughed harder when he noticed that most of the company had turned to face them; apparently, Montie's unwonted snort was louder than she had thought. Fili's laughter died to a light chuckle when he noticed Montie's mortified expression. Soon, it had stopped completely, and he simply smiled at her. He reached out to tap her on the arm. She turned to face him, the bits of a blush still present on her pale, freckly cheeks, and Fili's smile grew. He wanted to tell her she had a cute laugh. More than that, she wanted to say she was cute all the time. But, given his track record with the opposite sex, he refrained. No sense putting his foot in his mouth when he'd only known the girl for a total of three days.
"I haven't laughed that hard in months," Fili opted to say instead, "not since we left Ered Luin." Montie gave him a cheerful smile and unconsciously pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
"I don't know, Fili," Kili smiled at his brother, "I always get a good laugh looking at you." The younger prince winked at Montie when she glanced his way, and she giggled.
"Come on now, Kili," she said, "Fili is rather handsome, if you squint really hard in the right lighting." Montie and Kili began to laugh again, and Fili pouted.
"Oh, lighten up, Mr. Grumpy Beard! You're starting to look like Uncle," Kili teased, tossing one of his smaller stones and hitting his brother's ear. "Bullseye!" he cheered. Montie noticed how miffed Fili looked and sighed.
"Hey…Fili?" she asked, leaning towards the elder prince, "If it's any consolation, I happen to think you're quite a looker, even if the lighting isn't that great out here. And, see, look at me," Montie gestured to her eyes when Fili turned his full attention to her, "I'm not squinting." The both of them were blushing now. Fili racked his brain for something charming to say, to return the compliment, something, but all he could do was stare at her in awkward appreciation. She frowned a little when he didn't respond.
"Oy, wee lass!" came Bofur's voice as he galloped his pony up to the other side of Fili, "Me an' some o' the lads were hopin' tha' you could tell us one o' yer adventure stories. We're bored out o' our minds jus' ridin' in the quiet." Montie smiled and looked around when she heard a chorus of agreement; Ori, Gandalf, Bifur, and even Balin had maneuvered their ponies closer to her and Daffodil, all with eager smiles on their faces. The young hobbit cracked her knuckles.
"Well, all that talk of oversized squirrels does remind me of one of my favorite stories…"
"…And that's how the elven servant and his squirrel companions defeated the troll invasion of Rivendell," Montie's statement was punctuated by a round of applause from her audience. She bowed as best she could from atop her pony. Up ahead, she noticed that Thorin had stopped, and was surveying the area. The field was relatively open, but the ruins of a barn and a modest home stood menacingly off to the side.
"We'll camp here for the night," he stated, leaving no room for argument, "Fili, Kili, you two are in charge of the ponies," he glanced at the two princes, narrowing his eyes, "and make sure to focus on your task. No lolly-gagging." Fili put his hand atop his heart.
"Oh, Uncle, your lack of faith wounds me," he stated while Kili, who'd already hopped off his pony, put his hand to his forehead and flopped onto the grass. Thorin rolled his eyes. Gandalf was farther away from the company, examining the splintered wood that was once a barn door.
"A family lived here once," he murmured. Thorin was still giving orders near the center of their camp. By the time Gandalf returned to the group, Oin and Gloin were off to gather firewood, the rest of the company had dismounted, and Fili and Kili were tethering the ponies to the remains of a fence.
"I do not think it wise to stay here," Gandalf told the dwarven king, "if we make haste, we could reach the hidden valley—"
"I have told you already," Thorin responded, "I will not go near that place."
"Come now, Thorin, the elves could give us a safe place to rest, provide a decent meal, and Lord Elrond could assist us in deciphering the map."
"The elves have never been ones for offering 'assistance,'" Thorin spat angrily, "when Smaug attacked Erebor, where was the elves' "assistance?" When the orc armies laid waste to Moria, desecrating our sacred halls, the elves sat back in the safety of their palaces and watched. How could I ever ask the help of the race that betrayed my father? Who caused my grandfather's demise?"
"Are you your father? Your grandfather?" Gandalf asked, crossly, "I did not give you that key and map so that you could continue to live in the past." With that, Gandalf stormed off, his gray cloak trailing behind him. Bilbo noticed the wizard first, and called after him.
"Gandalf, are you all right? Where are you going?" Bilbo felt fear grip her heart.
"I am going to seek the company of the only soul here who has an ounce of common sense," Gandalf replied.
"And who might that be?" Bilbo's face had morphed to a panicked frown when she saw Gandalf mount his horse. The wizard gave an angry "harrumph."
"Myself, Miss Baggins! I cannot stand to be around dwarves for a moment longer." With that, Gandalf galloped away, and was soon nothing but a shadow in the setting sun. Montie walked up behind her sister and hugged her arm. The younger hobbit looked to Balin.
"Is he coming back?" she asked. Balin noted that some of the panic on her sister's face had leaked into Montie's normally cheerful expression. Before he could answer, Thorin gave another command.
"Everyone begin setting up for the evening. Bombur, get started on dinner; we're hungry," he said, pent-up rage still present in his voice. The company knew better than to question an angry Thorin, and did as they were told.
When the meal had been prepared and the company served, Montie scarfed hers down quickly and excused herself to the forest. She embarrassedly swatted away Bilbo's hand when she asked if she needed assistance.
"I'm just going to get a quick look at some flowers we passed on our way in. I thought they'd look lovely in Daffodil's mane," Montie replied quickly as she dashed away. When she was out of sight of the company, she sighed in relief, pulling a shining red apple out of her skirt pocket. She crept over to where Daffodil was situated, far away from the prying eyes of the two princes.
"Here you are, girl," she whispered, offering the apple to her four-legged friend, "All you have to do is promise to keep it a secret." Daffodil's response was simply to take a large chomp of apple, fuzzy lips grazing Montie's hand and causing her to give a soft laugh. Yards away, Fili and Kili were locked in conversation, completely oblivious to the young hobbit.
"I never thought a halfling lass could have such good aim, did you, Fi?" Kili asked his brother, who was busy sharpening one of his swords with the special stone he'd brought from home. Fili paused for a moment, and sighed in exasperation.
"Ki, why have all of our conversations led back to Montie? I think we've more important things to talk about," Fili looked up at his brother's confused expression, "like…the way Uncle can't seem to take his eyes off the other Miss Baggins." This time it was Fili who did the eyebrow waggling, and Kili let out a short laugh.
"So you've noticed it, too," Kili smiled, "I'm tellin' ya, Fi, this is exactly what Uncle needs. A good, sensible woman to keep him happy. He certainly didn't have many of those when he was our age, especially with the likes of mother for a sister…" Fili rolled his eyes at that, but the smile never left his face.
"Is that the plan, then?" Fili asked a little wary, "Are we playing matchmaker for Bilbo and Uncle? You know quite well how that went the last few times we tried it." They both shuddered.
"I think my ears are still ringing from mother's yelling," Kili mused, "and the back of my head still hurts from the back of Thorin's hand." This time Fili laughed.
"And once we've got a new aunt," the look Kili gave his brother put Fili immediately on edge, "we can get to work on my new sister. Or—if you never figure out how to talk to women—my new wife." Even though he knew his brother was kidding, Fili didn't find it funny in the least.
"You wouldn't," the older prince stated, his voice low and dangerous.
"Well…" Kili drawled, tapping his chin, "it would be improper 'adventure story etiquette' if I, a devilishly handsome dwarfish prince, were to ignore the fair—and eligible—heroine of our quest." That did it. Without thinking, Fili dropped his sword and lunged at his younger brother, tackling him off of the rock he'd been sitting on. Kili was laughing the whole time, taunting his brother between dodging his punches.
Montie could hear some sort of commotion coming from where Fili and Kili were keeping watch, but she chose to ignore it in favor of brushing Daffodil's mane. She was chattering away with Daffodil and a few of the other ponies, when she heard angry whispers coming from behind her. She froze, not recognizing any of the voices of the company members. Before she could hide herself or even turn to look at what was coming, something large and sweaty covered her completely and lifted her off the ground. From the sounds of a few fearful whinnies, whatever it was grabbed some of the ponies as well. She felt motion sickness creeping up on her as her large assailant began to walk back from whence it came.
"Put me down!" she yelled, and immediately regretted the decision. All she got for her troubles was a mouthful of that disgusting sweaty smell, and a tight squeeze from the hand holding her, making her feel like her eyes were going to pop out of her skull.
"Oy! Quiet you!" one of the voices said. It was clearly male. Montie racked her brain for all the information she'd ever read in her mother's books. Large, smelly, loud…either ogres, giants, or trolls, Montie thought. One of them farted. She tried to hold her breath. Definitely trolls, she decided. A thousand questions buzzed through her head, making her almost forget about the darkness around her. Almost being the key word. She was thankful or the minuscule gaps between the troll's fingers that let just a smidgen of moonlight in.
Finally, the combination stomping/swinging motion came to a stop. Montie didn't know whether to be relieved that she'd managed not to have her supper come back a second time—despite how hungry she was—or to be horrified by the thought of her uncertain fate.
"C'mon now, William," came one of the voices, "put them nags down 'n th' pen. 'N Tom," the hand holding Montie made a sudden jerk upward, "bring whatever morsel it is ya've grabbed up 'n bring it here." The troll carrying Montie—Tom, apparently—began to walk again. When he stopped, he abruptly opened his occupied hand, and for a moment, Montie was in free fall. She felt terrified and helpless as she plummeted, so it came as quite a painful shock when she met Tom's other palm with the left side of her body.
"Look a' it, Bert!" Tom cheered, sounded like a child, "it's a wee squirmy thin'! It's kinda cute! Bet it's extra tasty!" Montie had to admit, she'd felt a little hopeful when he'd said she was cute, but the word tasty shattered any good spirits she'd had. But, if there was one thing she was good at, it was talking her way out of trouble.
"I'm actually rather bland," she stated simply, trying to balance on the slightly damp surface of Tom's palm, "and, after all this traveling, I'm sure I smell a fright. Not to mention, I haven't been eating properly since I left home, so I'd assume I'm not up to weight standards." She tried to sound as casual as possible. Trolls weren't the smartest of creatures, she knew, so she appealed to the one thing they did like: food.
"S'never bothered me before," the third troll came back, "I'd just be gla' ta have somenthin' that doesn't taste like chicken. Again." He sent a sidelong glance at Bert, who looked affronted.
"Gimme some credit, ya great lump," Bert grumped back at the one Montie concluded had to be William, "I'm th' one tha' does th' cookin' 'round here. Be grateful for what ya have," William snorted, "Plus, I'll probably be marinatin' the wee…lass? Yer a lass, ain't ya, beastie?" From her position, all the young hobbit could do was give an offended gasp and glare daggers at Bert.
"I can't wait for th' boiled nags," Tom said. Suddenly he began to take sharp inhalations, his shoulders slowly hitching backwards. Montie knew what that meant, it was the universal sign of a—
Before she could complete her thought, Tom sneezed, both his arms shooting out to his sides and flinging Montie along with them. For the second time that night, Montie felt herself in open air, and any thoughts of making a possible escape were silenced when she collided with a large boulder. She was unconscious before she hit the ground.
Author's Note: Hi there, everyone! I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Sorry about leaving this one on a cliffhanger, but I figured shorter chapters would make things a tad more interesting. If you have any comments or questions, please don't hesitate to post them! I'll get back to you with the next chapter as soon as I can. Best wishes, M.