Gandalf was hard-pressed to convince the Company that while Billa and Thorin needed to go on this journey, the rest of them couldn't. Fili and Kili looked morose and spent a good deal of the following morning pouting as they waited in the courtyard to say farewell to their king and queen. Bombur was hiding in his kitchen, "salting the sauces" (with tears, Billa suspected) and refusing to come out to say goodbye. Bifur and Bofur imparted small gifts to their monarchs and left quickly, looking disappointed and upset, as did Dori, Ori, and Oin. Nori and Gloin were near the door, looking fierce, and Dwalin had his arms crossed over his brawny chest, standing impassively near the ponies. There was a third pony bearing heavy-looking bags, and, as Dwalin shifted slightly, a fourth, slightly larger beast with weapons and- a saddle.

"You're going with them?!" Kili exploded from where he was standing against Billa's side. The hobbit winced away from him, but he didn't seem to notice. Balin put a hand on Kili's shoulder to calm him, but the younger dwarf was too busy pointing accusingly at the third saddle-pony to notice. "He's going! How come Dwalin can go and we can't?" Gandalf rumbled with laughter, tightening the girth-strap around his horse's barrel.

"Can you stop him, Kili?" The Wizard bent down to look the prince in the eye, and Kili did his very best imitation of his uncle on a particularly bad morning. "Your courage is admirable, and your will is strong. But this kingdom cannot lose the entirety of its royal line and continue to function. Your place is here, with your people. Your monarchs will return all the sooner if their party is small." The Wizard straightened, and though Kili looked resentful, he kept his protests at the level of a low grumble.

Billa looked up at Gandalf and wondered, not for the first time, how the Wizard always seemed to know exactly what to say. She caught his twinkling blue gaze and quickly looked away. Underneath the amusement of the moment, there was a much more serious, much darker look; it was the look of one who has seen the end and doesn't like what's coming. Once they were mounted, the huge front gates opened, nearly soundless except for a small, piercing squeak. Thorin winced and glanced at Fili. The Regent Under the Mountain nodded slightly. He would see to it. Even though it would probably be squeaking again by the time they returned, it comforted Thorin to know his nephews were here to oversee the kingdom in his absence. With luck, Dis would arrive before anything went too terribly awry.

The four ponies and the horse moved through the gates in a ragged line. At the base of the curved bridge, there were four more horses waiting for them. Three had riders, the fourth carried more packs. Thorin frowned.

"You didn't say we were going to have any more company," he growled, and the Wizard glanced at him with an expression that might have been surprise.

"You didn't think I was going to send you halfway across Middle-Earth with only two companions, did you?" Gandalf chuckled. "No, this sort of quest will take a great deal more help than your courageous friends can offer." As they got closer, Thorin's frown became a scowl. Two of the riders were clearly elves, mounted on elvish horses and wearing light, elvish armor. The third was a man, clad in a rough-looking green cloak that concealed anything else he may have been wearing.

"Are we going to Rivendell?" Billa asked, shooting a concerned glanced at their new companions. Gandalf shook his head.

"No, not to Rivendell. Though before our journey's end, you will wish we were." The three riders nodded to Gandalf as the party approached. "May I introduce Billa Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield, King and Queen Under the Mountain, and their companion Dwalin, son of Fundin." The man nodded, and the elves bowed. "This is Halfir, of the Rangers of the North." The man nodded again, and Billa frowned slightly as she looked at him. He seemed familiar, somehow. "Faithor of Rivendell, and Eldir of the Woodland Realm." The two elves smiled, though the one wearing Woodland green seemed a little less comfortable than his companion.

"The road south is being watched," murmured the Ranger, his strange grey eyes glimmering in the sunlight. Billa noted that they were the same color as fresh steel, and couldn't suppress a shiver as he glanced her way. "Dol Guldur is in shadow, and reaches out farther each passing day."

"We will put a stop to that, but not by the road." Gandalf turned his horse toward the Lake and nudged the animal forward. "You will follow Long Lake to its southern end, and from there you will-"

"You?" Billa looked up at him, and there was fear in her brown eyes. "You're not coming with us?" Gandalf gave her a kind smile.

"No. There are things I must prepare for you in order for this venture to succeed. Now, as I was saying, you will follow the River Celduín, and turn south at the meeting of Celduín and Carnen. From there you will cross the plains to Ered Lithui, the Ash Mountains. I will meet you there." Thorin's scowl was so deep it might become permanent.

"And you think I-"

"-will lead this expedition admirably." Gandalf interrupted him smoothly, still smiling. "Halfir will help you when you are in need, and Faithor and Eldir are both skilled in the art of healing, should the need arise." There was something about the way he spoke that told Billa he thought the need would arise. It didn't make her feel any better about this. With a final farewell and a warning glance at Thorin, the Wizard turned his steed away from them, and spurred the horse on.

Long after Gandalf had dwindled to a dark smudge in the distance, Billa continued to look over her shoulder. The Wizard was riding hard toward Mirkwood, and she wondered what it was he was preparing for them. Thorin, riding beside her, gazed at the Lake ahead.

"You don't think…" Billa hesitated, not sure she wanted to finish the question. "You don't think we'll actually be going into Mordor, do you?" Even though she'd had no history learning like what Thorin had, she knew that Mordor was a bad place, full of bad things. The idea of going in, and possibly never coming back out, was as terrifying as leaving her sons behind in the arms of their nursemaids. Thorin glanced at her, and as though he could see her heart aching in her chest, he reached across the gap between them to touch her knee.

"Your Wizard, may his beard grow ever longer," he was clearly trying to be polite, and the effort made Billa smile, "knows what he's doing. I can only pray he's not 'delayed' again."

"A Wizard is never late," said the elf in blue, Faithor, "nor is he early." He chuckled, and the sound was like water over stones. Billa smiled.

"He arrives precisely when he means to," she finished. The halfling knew the old man's excuses by heart, and it made her feel better to know that she wasn't alone. Their gazes met for a moment, and Billa knew she would like Faithor much more than Thorin would approve of. Of course, he disapproved of her liking the trees in Rivendell, never mind the folk that lived there. The elf in green remained silent, but there was a slight twitch to his lips that suggested he might be trying not to smile.

Thorin let out a low, growling sigh and turned forward again. "We can reach the tip of Long Lake by evening and set up camp there." Because Thorin's fallback was always giving orders. Billa smiled and rode beside him, thinking that perhaps this journey wouldn't be quite so unpleasant as her last one.