Eight

"How old are you, Estel?" Billa asked curiously. Did elf-children age like Men, or like Hobbits, or like Dwarves?

"Ten," he said proudly, no longer troubled by thoughts of the future. The future, it seemed, had wafted out the window with the breeze. "Ada says that I'm old enough to start training with a real sword now."

"Indeed?" said Elrond, stepping into the open doorway. "I seem to recall saying that your training with real weapons was to be delayed another six months because of that stunt you pulled last week." His hands emerged from his ample sleeves, and he leaned over Billa's bedside again. "Let's have a look at your leg, shall we?"

Kili's eyes brightened with curiosity. "So," he whispered in Estel's ear, "just what kind of stunt did you pull? A good one, I hope."

Estel looked rather grumpy. "I didn't do anything," he told Kili with a pout. "It was Elrohir. I keep telling him, but he won't listen."

Billa eyed the newcomer nervously. He seemed very... there was a word for it, but it wasn't coming to mind. Important. Dignified. Majestic. Whatever. He seemed to be in charge of something. He reminded her of Thorin, in some ways. "How long have I been here?" she asked softly, looking worried at the thought. Thorin. If they were delayed, then Thorin would be upset. And it would be her fault. They might even leave her behind. Then what?

"Two days, Miss Baggins," said Elrond, carefully feeling along the halfling's bound leg. It seemed to be responding well to his ministrations.

Billa winced, though not because of any physical pain. "And... how long will it be before I can walk again?" She didn't like the expression on his face. The same expression that Healer Mags had when she told Hamwise that he'd not be able to work in the garden until after his arm healed. Poor fellow had been down in the mouth for the whole two weeks of his recovery.

"No more than a week," said Elrond, "if you continue to rest as ordered and don't try to walk on it before then." He unwound several layers of the binding and refreshed the dried herbs from a special pouch he kept in a cupboard in the nearby wall. "Athelas," he said, holding up a faded green sprig. "We who practice medicine still have yet to find anything that works so well as the 'healing leaf.' "

"Athelas," Billa repeated quietly, taking the leaf between her fingers. Billa, like all hobbits, had a deep love of green and growing things. If there was more she could learn from Elrond about the herbs and things he used for healing, she would learn it- if he was willing to teach her.

The elf lord finished with what he was doing, urged Fili to ensure she was drinking often of the tea in the bedside carafe he'd brought that morning, and turned to leave.

"Don't let my son pester you overly much," he said, nodding at Estel from the doorway. "He's unceasingly curious about the outside world, and would likely never tire of hearing stories of the lands beyond our borders." Smiling faintly, the elf lord departed.

Murmuring her thanks, Billa watched him go, still holding the leaf gently. The way it smelled, tasted, felt, and looked- she would make sure she remembered.

"So," said Kili, feeling at ease again now that Elrond had gone, "what did Elrohir do that he blamed you for? Because Fili and me... we're experts in this area. We might be able to help you get him back." He winked at his brother.

Estel seemed surprised that this dwarf was actually choosing to believe him. "Well... he and Elladan sort of... they took some berries and made a lot of dye, and drew some stuff on one of the walkways. Ada was really angry about it. Said it was a childish thing to do, and his sons knew better."

"Berries, eh?" Kili was intrigued. "Well, Fili and I will show them a thing or two." Anticipating protest, he held up a hand. "Don't worry; we'll take all the blame for it. We're not staying here long. How much trouble can we get into?" He leaned toward Fili, grinning roguishly. "What say we pay those fiendish twins a visit?"

Estel relaxed slightly, and even smiled, bouncing gently on the bed. "Really? You'd do that?"

Fili poured Billa some tea and pressed it into her hands before returning to his brother's bed with a grin. "For plaguing our poor young friend? Indubitably." The blond winked at Estel. "We've been dying to try out a couple things that would have gotten us beheaded in Ered Luin anyway. And what our dear mother doesn't know can't get us killed."

Kili slid off the bed, supporting himself with a staff of twisted pine the elves had given him earlier. He glanced at Billa semi-apologetically. "Sorry you can't tag along to see the fun. Healer's orders and all. Besides," he grinned, "could be dangerous. We'll come back later and tell you all about it."

As the three went, laughing, out the door, they quite literally ran into Thorin. The dwarf wasn't very amused by their clumsiness, and as he scanned their sorry faces, he knew at once something was up.

"What's the meaning of this? Fili? Where are you off to in such a rush?"

Fili glanced into his uncle's face, looking distinctly guilty. "We were just going to explore the valley," he lied, shooting a look at his brother. "Since there are such nice paths, you know... and Estel here was going to show us around, weren't you?" He clapped the boy on the shoulder, and the elfling grinned brightly.

"Yes sir! And they were gonna tell me all about orcs and wargs and goblins!" He sounded a bit too excited about those.

"Is that so?" Thorin asked, raising his dark eyebrows. He'd known the brothers long enough to recognize when they were trying to hoodwink him. "Well, young Estel," he said, shifting his gaze to the nervous, grey-eyed boy, "take care the company you keep. These two are as dangerous as orcs. And twice as annoying."

He smiled faintly, brushing past them. Whatever they were up to, it was likely nothing that would be of any consequence to him.

Fili traded a glance with Kili, then looked down at Estel.

"As dangerous as orcs?" the boy asked, regarding them with a new sort of respect. Fili giggled, letting off a bit of tension as he stepped hastily away from the infirmary.

"Trust Uncle to insult us with a compliment. Come on." Keeping his pace at least somewhat moderated for Kili's sake, the blond hooked his thumbs around his leather belt. "So... what sort of revenge shall we make for our little friend, hm?"

"I was thinking something nasty, something really unpleasant," said Kili, making a great show of rubbing his hands together. "Tonight after an exhausting day of strutting around with their noses in the air, those twins'll trudge into their chambers, half-asleep, and tuck in. That's when it'll hit them. Earlier, we'll have dumped a bucket of honey at the foot of their beds, beneath the sheets. And then their feet will be all sticky and they'll jump out of bed screaming and we'll be there to witness it." He hesitated a moment. "I'm not entirely sure how we'll be there, but we will be. Fool-proof, eh, Fili?"

Fili chewed the end of one of his braids thoughtfully. "Honey might be a bit hard to get ahold of without folk noticing." A moment's silence passed between them, and then he grinned, glancing down at Estel. "How clean are the ponds around here?" At first, the boy looked confused, then a look of malicious glee crossed his face.

"Ooh! Elladan will hate this. Mud in their beds?"

"You're on the right track, kiddo. Why don't you fetch us a couple buckets, and we'll look for a good scummy puddle somewhere?" Fili watched Estel bounce away and grinned at his brother. "This'll be fun."

He returned with two buckets he'd filched from the garden shed and the trio headed to the pond, where they collected some of the cleanest mud the two brothers had ever seen. Ah, well. Mud was mud. Estel led them to a wizened-looking oak beneath the verandah of the Twins' chambers, assuring Fili and Kili that they wouldn't be in there, as they generally spent their days training or riding about the valley.

"Fili, you and Estel go up first," Kili whispered. "Then lower the rope down and I'll send the buckets up."

Fili scrambled up the gnarled trunk, eagerness lending him strength where he lacked skill. Estel didn't climb so much as he ran up the tree, pulling himself up hand over hand as though he were some sort of furless squirrel. Long before Fili reached the verandah, the boy was dancing impatiently on the wide stone rail.

"Come on," he called, bouncing on the spot.

Finally, Fili stood on the smooth stone, leaning against the rail as he braced himself against the weight of the buckets. It was the work of a moment to bring them up, though Fili had to admit that hauling Kili up the same way would be considerably harder.

"Lookout duty for you today, brother mine," he called with a grin.

"Hey!" Kili whisper-shouted. When he saw that his brother had no intention of bringing him up, he crossed his arms grumpily. Lookout duty wasn't nearly as interesting. Curses on his ankle. He leaned against the bole of the tree, scanning left and right. No one close enough to mark them as disguised as they were behind the thick foliage of the oak. He huffed to himself, imagining what terribly entertaining mischief he was missing out on inside.

Fili and Estel were snickering delightedly to each other as they scrambled back down the tree to join Kili.

"Estel had the idea to put an extra layer over the foot of the beds so the mud wouldn't soak through." The blond was near to bursting out in delighted giggles. "They won't know what's coming to 'em 'til it's too late!"


Entering the infirmary, Thorin nodded to the halfling sitting propped up against her pillows, approaching with hands clasped behind his back. He was still wearing his brigandine armor, despite their inarguably safe location, though he'd left his coat and fur mantle behind in the guest chambers. It was clear he'd washed, and his dark hair had been combed, the two four-stranded braids redone. "How do you find yourself, Miss Baggins?" The tone rested somewhere between familiar and business-like.

"Well, I generally start by opening my eyes. If that doesn't work, my hands are often very useful." Billa's dry tone was accompanied by a merry smile. Perhaps it was Fili and Kili rubbing off on her, but Thorin's formality struck her as amusing. Still holding that Athelas leaf, she rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger as she suppressed the anxiety gnawing at her gut. Were they going to leave her behind? Did Thorin know how long it would be before she could travel?

"You look well. Being clean suits you."

Thorin nodded again, his gaze now firmly fixed on one of the carven bedposts. "One week? Is that what the elf lord told you? After that, you'll be ready to depart?" He didn't mean to sound so impersonal, but he certainly hadn't come here to chat about his hygiene habits.

Billa cleared her throat, smile fading into nonexistence. "Yes... that's what he said." She hesitated a moment, inspecting the withered leaf in her hand. "I'm sorry to have delayed you." If she were the betting sort, she wouldn't have put her wager on Thorin waiting around in Rivendell for her to recover.

Thorin shrugged a little. "These things happen." It was his way of accepting the apology. He looked at her, finally, and his gaze was neither hard, nor gentle. It just... was. "I will be plain in saying I did not initially wish to stay here the week it will require for you to heal. Even now, I do so begrudgingly. But the wizard has insisted time and again that if I leave you behind, this venture will fail. I don't understand the confidence he places in you, but it's been said he's gifted with prescience, so I'll not dare go against him. Not on this point."

Billa thought about saying something about the confidence Gandalf put in her, but decided that there was nothing she could tell this bright-eyed dwarf that he hadn't already thought of. She met his blue gaze and, after a moment, nodded. "I'll do my best not to slow you any more than necessary." Thorin was a hard man, a distant and unfeeling leader, focused on his Quest and nothing more. There was a part of her that wanted to see him smile. That wanted to see him behave like a real person, instead of this stone-faced carving he put up in his place.

"When was the last time you laughed?" The question was asked on a whim. Billa wasn't really sure what made her say it out loud. Looking at Thorin as he was now, standing with boots planted in an infirmary, by a hobbit's sickbed, she felt sorry for him, and didn't know why.

Thorin tilted his head a little, caught off guard. What could she be getting at with that?

"I'm not overly prone to levity," he said, at last, "while my kingdom is yet unwon and a dragon defiles the halls of my ancestors. I will not indulge myself in mirth while the massacre of my people remains unavenged, Miss Baggins." His blue eyes were deep now, his gaze heavy, as if he could still see the destruction of Erebor vividly before him, playing out again and again. Laughter was not his way; the weight of an entire people's sorrow was ever present on his mind and heart.

There was unconcealed pity in Billa's gaze now. "I'm sorry." Though, whether she was sorry for his lack of levity or for the deaths of his people was a little vague. She truly did feel very sorry for him. What must life be like under that kind of weight? What could it be like to live a life where smiles and laughter were no more permissible than using a crowbar for mending socks? She wished there was something she could do, but had the distinct impression that any attempt to lighten his mood would go very much unappreciated.

Thorin stepped a little closer to the edge of the bed, putting his hand on the bedpost. As simple words as they were, the genuine sentiment behind them stirred him a little. He sighed, looking away again.

"I don't need your pity, Miss Baggins, as well meant as I'm sure it is. I need only for you to prepare yourself for what is to come." He lowered his gaze once more, thoughtfully. "I've been impressed by the way you've conducted yourself, barring that foolish incident with the trolls. I certainly never predicted you'd make it as far as you have.

"But in future, when we move into greater and greater danger, increasingly harried on all sides by those forces seeking to stop us, you will need to be stronger than ever. You'll need to keep up with the rest of my Company, fit in, become one of us, for all intents and purposes. We will not be able to make any special allowances for you as this journey wears on, however much my nephews may try through it all to ease your way. I want to make that clear. This Company is a chain, only as strong as its weakest link. I need you to be strong, Miss Baggins."

"Understood." There was nothing more to be said. Billa knew, deep in the secretest parts of her hobbitish insides, that Thorin wasn't warning her. He was putting his faith in her. This was no longer just his Quest- it was hers, too. And he knew it. It was gratifying to know that he acknowledged it.