Ten

Estel eyed his brothers nervously as they approached, dressed identically as usual, down to their boots. Not that Estel had any trouble telling them apart, but it certainly baffled the dwarves when they saw what was apparently two of the same elf. Elrohir was walking in step with his brother as they made their way down the path, stopped in front of Fili and Kili, then bowed in unison.

"You are, by far, the most worthy adversaries we have yet encountered," Elrohir said with a haughty smile, then winked jovially down at them. "Not bad for dwarves."

Fili, who had been regarding them just as warily as the grey-eyed boy beside him, relaxed when their smiles became less identical.

"Not too bad yourselves, considering you're Elves," he replied with a smirk. "Might want to work on your aim, though." He snickered. Looking back on it, pranking Billa's bed had been hilarious. Just, not so much the part where they'd nearly been sent home.

Gandalf nodded gravely to Elrond, standing side-by-side with his old friend as they watched the dwarves assemble with their assorted gear and weapons. Billa was the last to arrive, and the wizard spared her an appraising glance before turning back to his elven companion.

"Even if Thorin is too stiff-necked to say so, we are very grateful for your hospitality. I'll be seeing you again soon, I think." He was still deeply troubled about this so-called Necromancer the White Council had met to discuss, and it would behoove him to seek aid from Elrond and his kin, if the portents were to be heeded. Saruman might not think this a matter worth investigating, but Gandalf had a much deeper interest in the people of the land than was generally accepted among the Wizards.

Billa leaned heavily on a short ash staff Elrond had gifted to her that morning (along with strict instructions to keep using it until the moon was full in the sky again). She had insisted on carrying her own pack, but Ori, who was her escort today, seemed incredibly distressed.

"But your hair, Miss Baggins!" he fretted, his eyes large and dark in his innocent face. The hobbit sighed and ran a hand through her short curls. Until now, her hair had been a wild mess of brown curls, hanging to her elbows on the days she could wrestle a brush through them. Most days she didn't bother, since it all came more or less undone when she washed anyway. Now, at her own request, her long brown locks had been cut to a more manageable length, a fact that bothered Ori to no end.

"It's fine, Ori. I'm not bleeding, it's not burned off, and it'll grow back. Now stop acting like it's the end of the world."

"I could have braided it for you if it bothered you that much."

"I don't wear braids."

"But-"

"Ori, just leave it. It's a haircut, not a disease."

Gandalf lifted his head to look down the path. Thorin was deep in conversation with Balin, and looked more restless than ever. After a moment, the wizard cleared his throat pointedly and addressed Elrond in a louder tone than necessary, his eyes on Thorin. "Your assistance with the map was invaluable, my friend. I'll not forget this service soon." His blue gaze remained on Thorin, and his meaning was clear enough.

Thorin resented Gandalf's manipulative tactics, but nonetheless thought some expression of gratitude would be fitting. He bowed slightly to the elf lord, and seeing his gesture, the other dwarves followed suit.

"My Company is grateful for the hospitality you have rendered us, Lord Elrond," he said, and left it at that.

Elrond bowed in return. "I was glad to offer it, Thorin Oakenshield. The blessing of my house goes with you; may it see you safely wherever fate wills."

With that, Thorin nodded, and turned to the arched causeway leading over the river. The Company followed, and after a brief hike up a series of switchbacks, set their face to the Misty Mountains.

Once they were well on their way into the foothills, Kili fell back and joined Billa and Ori.

"So," he said, crestfallen, "why'd you cut your hair?"

Billa sighed and ran her free hand through the short curls. They were barely long enough to cover the tips of her pointed ears. "I cut it because short hair is easier to take care of. I don't want to slow anyone down any more than I already am." Tilting her head to look up into his face as she limped beside him, the hobbit offered him a smile. "Why?"

Fili fell in on her other side as Ori slipped away, muttering something about being outnumbered. "Because long hair looks so pretty on you." He was grinning, but when she aimed a frown at him, he blushed. "Sorry."

"Isn't she a bit old for you, Fili?" Kili jibed, patting his brother's head. "Besides, Uncle would be furious to know you've been flirting with his burglar." He grinned, absently, playing with one the straps on his pack as they went.

"I'm only… fifty…" Billa started defensively, then trailed off as she remembered that she was solidly middle aged. An old maid. With a sigh, she looked away.

Fili seemed mildly alarmed. "See?" he said, his jaunty tone slightly forced. "She's only fifty. A good decade younger than me. Plenty young." He put an arm around her shoulders and grinned.

Billa shrugged him off, but she was smiling. "You two act like you're in your tweens," she scolded fondly.

By dusk, they'd made it a good ten miles up into the pass, and Gloin started a fire in short order while Bombur prepared the evening meal and the others sat about moaning and nursing blisters. Thorin and Gandalf studied the map, discussing just how much progress they'd have to make each day in order to reach the Mountain by Durin's Day, when the keyhole in the secret door would be revealed.

Kili collapsed on a semi-flat stone beside Billa, exhaling heavily, stretching his legs.

"So how are you holding up? Ready to head back to Rivendell yet?"

Billa was on the ground because she was too tired to bother looking for a real place to sit. Her leg ached like crazy and she wasn't sure she had the energy even to eat, but she forced a smile for Kili.

"Back to Rivendell? Too far to walk today. Might as well keep going forward." The hobbit chuckled and let her head rest on the ground.

"You alright, Billa?" Fili nudged his brother and handed him a canteen.

"I'm fine." She flapped a hand at them, but didn't bother sitting up, or even opening her eyes.

Kili leaned over the halfling. "Uncle's looking at you," he said in a singsong voice, grinning down at her.

It was true. Thorin had turned away from the map, evidently at some word from Gandalf, and was staring at Billa with what might have been mild concern.

"Good for him," Billa chuckled, wiggling her hairy toes and ignoring the heat in her cheeks. With an effort, she pushed herself upright, then, reluctantly, used her staff to heave herself to her feet. She didn't want Thorin to think she was useless. She wasn't going to give him an excuse to leave her behind. Leaning heavily on her stick, she limped over to the fire, ignoring Thorin's gaze and Fili's giggles.

"Can I help, Bombur?"

The fat dwarf glanced at her and smiled, his eyes almost disappearing amid cheerful crinkles. "Of course, Miss Baggins. You're always welcome. Come, sit, and tell me what it is you'd do with two pheasants and a hare."

Thorin turned back to the wizard. "How does she look?" His voice was little more than a low rumble. "I fear she may not fare well in the High Pass on that leg." It was a legitimate concern. A weak link could cost them all dearly, in time, and possibly more.

Gandalf looked at the halfling for a long moment before answering. "Your fears are not unfounded, but I imagine there is more to Miss Baggins than you presume. Should she fall behind or slow you down more than you can cope with, you will be justified in leaving her behind." The wizard seemed, somehow, to know certain details he was withholding from the dwarf as he turned his piercing gaze back to him. "I am not gifted with foresight, as Lord Elrond is, but I can tell you... without the hobbit, you will not succeed."

"So you've told me on numerous occasions," Thorin sighed, somewhat irritated. He folded the map and tucked it into his tunic. "And I'll respond as I always have... I hope you know what you're doing."

Billa was helping Bombur pluck a pheasant now, and she seemed to know far more about the process than the portly cook did. Her fingers moved quicker than sight, while his stubby, short ones fumbled with the delicate little feathers, pulling out a few here and there but mostly slipping off with nothing to show for it. Billa kept offering him pointers and he'd nod in appreciation, trying to model his efforts more closely upon hers.

Thorin nodded to himself. She seemed to have enough wits about her still to be of use, but he wasn't sure how she'd fare as time went on. He still didn't know quite what to make of her outlandish haircut. She looked... strange now without her long ringlets. Bare. He could see the tips of her ears now, the back of her neck. He felt awkward even thinking about it, and he turned away, pacing toward his nephews.

"Fili," he whispered, "I saw you speaking with Miss Baggins earlier. What did she say? How much grief is her injury giving her?"

Fili looked up from oiling his leather belt, startled to find his uncle leaning over him. After a moment's pause to consider the question, he answered in an undertone. "Tired, but not in pain. Dunno how many days she'll be able to keep up." He hesitated, studying his uncle with mild surprise. "I don't think she means to turn back, though. Are you worried, Uncle?" Aware of the weight of responsibility that rested on Thorin's shoulders, Fili shifted slightly, wishing he knew what to do to ease the burden. "We can keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn't fall behind."

Thorin nodded, thoughtfully. "You've already been doing that. Don't coddle her too much. The rigors of the way will only increase; you'll be doing her a disservice when the time comes that you'll no longer be able to ease her trouble."

He turned away, hands clasped behind him. What was the use of bringing along someone who had to be protected, comforted, accommodated? She'd not last an instant on her own, with no way of defending herself. Then Thorin remembered. That little sword Gandalf had given her. An elf dagger, really. He turned back to Fili, nodding toward Billa. "When she's done with the meal, give her a lesson. You and Kili. Teach her the basics of defense, and at the least, where to strike for a killing blow. I'll not have anyone in this Company be completely helpless."

Fili glanced at the hobbit, then at his brother, and nodded. "Yes, sir." The idea of teaching anyone anything was a little intimidating, to be honest, but he would do his best, because Thorin had entrusted the task to him. His point about not being able to help her in the future was a sharp one, and Fili wished it weren't true.

Dinner was delicious, as usual, and Billa, though she ate fairly little, was still fiddling with her bowl when Fili and Kili approached. Her short curls were sticking up in places where she'd run her fingers through them, and though she smiled, there was little energy in the expression.

"Up you get, Billa," Fili urged with a grin, taking her bowl and pressing her dagger into her hands. "It's time for your first lesson."

"Lesson?" Billa looked down at the weapon, then up at the brothers. "You're joking, right? It's nearly dark!"

"Well, we had better get moving then, hadn't we?"

Kili had a stout, hardwood branch he'd borrowed from the kindling pile, and he tossed it to his brother.

"Too dangerous to spar with sharps, especially with a novice," he said. "Her 'letter opener' there hasn't been sharpened in a while, so you're probably safe."

He grinned at Fili, and the blonde took a stance a few feet away from the bewildered-looking halfling while Kili moved behind her. "Now, we're going to start with blocking. If you don't mind, I think the easiest way to do this would be to show you... like this." He reached down and took the wrist of her sword hand in his fingers, wrapping his other hand around her waist.

"Come at her, Fili," he said, and when the blonde complied, he moved Billa's sword to block the (rather restrained) blow before it landed. "Keep your eye on his weapon at all times. It should practically be a reflex. Your sword becomes a part of your hand; you won't need to look at it at all. Make sense, Billa?"

Billa's arms, shoulders and back were nearly rigid with tension. A glance at her face told Fili she wasn't frightened, she was angry. In a way, that was good. Anger would make her reflexes quicker. On the other hand, it also made her more dangerous, because she had a real weapon, and he didn't.

A heartbeat passed, then two, and the halfling relaxed again, her anger draining away. "Yes, it makes sense." She rolled her shoulders and adjusted her stance to more closely match Kili's, fixing her gaze on Fili's branch.

Thorin watched from the other side of the fire; his nephews, his burglar, and the dull clattering of steel against wood. His burglar? There he was doing it again. Well, she was contractually bound to perform a service, he reminded himself. That gave him some claim on her. But this was the last thing he'd planned for upon leaving the Blue Mountains- allowing this tiny female who wasn't even a dwarf to influence his future, the future of his people.

As he watched her, the flames reflecting orange in his blue eyes, like fire burning on water, he felt a peculiar stirring, something he'd experienced before but couldn't place. She seemed so small, so helpless. Was it concern for her safety? Was that the feeling? Thorin wasn't sure he knew, or even wanted to know.