Chapter Eleven:

The (almost) All Welcome Inn

"I'm sorry about your pony," I muster eventually as we trudge on down the sodden road, "if I hadn't turned up and freaked her maybe none of this would have happened."

"Don't be ridiculous," Kíli says dryly, "I shouldn't have been riding so close to the edge."

"You are safe, brother, and that's all that matters," Fíli says.

"We can't just go home," Kíli says. "The embarrassment of it is enough reason not to. Mother will be ashamed... and Gimli and the others, can you imagine what they'll think?"

"Mother will be relieved to see you back home safe," Fíli says. "Regardless, we are not going back to Ered Luin."

"We're not?"

"Of course not. We two were raised on tales of Erebor. I'll be damned if either of us are going to miss out on reclaiming our home. But uncle was right, brother, at least in part; you're not fit to travel."

"I told you, I'm fine-!"

"You're not fit to travel at the moment. We spend the night somewhere, a place where you can have a proper meal and sleep in a real bed. You will catch your death if you do not get warm and dry; and then in the morning, if you are well enough, we shall take up after them."

Kíli slumps a little lower on the back of the beast. "We should go now," he says. "I feel fine, really, and if we go after them now we might still catch them up in time."

"You do not look fine. Besides, we are skilled trackers, the both of us; we'll make our own way to the mountain. Uncle can hardly turn us away once we're at Erebor's door."

Kíli nods at the proposition, shivering. I lean back against him in an attempt to warm both of us a little, and this time he does not shrug me off. He trembles against the cold, sucking air in through his teeth; it becomes ever more apparent as we journey down the path that we need to get him somewhere dry as soon as possible. We come across a small inn on the road with a swinging sign which reads 'The All-Welcome Inn'. As the Elven palace is still so far and neither brother is overly keen on the idea of meeting up with the Elves again, we decide it will be the perfect place to spend the night. Fíli hammers his fist against the door while I stay back with the equines. After a few minutes the eye of the Innkeeper appears through a slit in the wood, and he searches left and right, unable to see his new guests.

"Here, good sir," Fíli says in a choked voice; the Innkeeper looks down, locks eyes with the three of us and shakes his head.

"Not today, thank you."

He goes to pull the grate shut, but Fíli demands,

"What do you mean, not today? The sign says you have vacancies!"

The Innkeeper frowns. I'm starting to feel a little like Mary here.

"We don't accommodate your kind here," the Innkeeper barks through the peephole. I glance back up at the name of the pub and roll my eyes. So much for All-Welcome.

"Well, we have money," Kíli snaps, teeth chattering with both frustration and cold, "do you accommodate that?"

"We are cold, we are tired, and we are hungry," Fíli says sharply to the difficult man. "Give us a bed for the night and we will pay handsomely, I can assure you."

The Innkeeper looks unconvinced, but the smell of gold seems to have caught a thread of his interest all the same. He squints again and grumbles,

"What is your name, little friend?"

"What does that matter?!" Kíli barks, worked up by his indignant tone; Fíli holds out an authoritative arm to silence him.

"Dàgar," the cooler brother says calmly, "son of Ràgan, of the mines of Old Moria."

Wow. Smooth lying skills. I wonder if he has been practising for a situation like this; he seems the type to be prepared for everything.

The Innkeeper narrows his eyes. "What business do you have in these parts, Dàgar, son of Ràgan?"

"No business of yours," Kíli growls, and Fíli throws him another warning glare.

"Pardon my brother. We are here to discuss trade with the nearby towns."

"And your trade?"

"What is this," I mumble under my breath, "twenty questions?"

"Softly now, sister," Fíli instructs me, before answering the man politely. "Forgive them, they are tired. Our family are three generations of Blacksmiths."

"How many are you?"

"Just we three; my brother, Ràgar, and my sister, Roaàne."

I feel the man's eyes on me specifically now, and do not halt my stare. "You brought your sister along on business of trade?"

"She is simple-minded," Fíli says quietly, as though this will do me some kindness of muffling my hearing. "We could hardly leave her in the mountains with no one to care for her; we are the last of our line, you see."

He's definitely been practising this, which means he's had me lined up as the 'simple-minded' one for quite some time now.

"You'll pay up front," the innkeeper demands. "And in full. I'll have none of this 'we're-half-the-size-so-we'll-pay-half-the-price' rubbish I get from the Fallowhides and the half-folk who journey near here, neither."

"Yes, yes," Fíli dismisses, searching his pockets for coinage. He rummages with a frown for a few seconds before turning to Kíli and whispering,

"Oh, Mahal... my money was in my satchel, and the satchel was on your pony, the one we lost to the river. Your gold, quickly."

"I haven't got any left," Kíli tells him, "the only gold I had which wasn't with the pony paid for Lavender's dresses."

Fíli lowers his head into his hands. "Well, then..."

I clutch the fabric of the white velvet dress, drenched through the rain and say, "we'll pay you with this!"

The inn-keeper narrows his eyes. "What would I want with that old rag?"

"This isn't an old rag," I tell him confidently, smoothing down the spoiled white velvet, "this is Elvish, spun with gold thread and blessed with old magic."

"Yes, and when I blow off it smells like summer wine."

"…Okay, maybe there's no magic to it, but it is Elvish. You can sell it for a pretty penny at the market, or you can keep it for yourself for all I care. Maybe it'll suit you better than it does me. Do we have a deal, mister?"

"I'll have that necklace of yours, Missy."

"No way," I bark back, perhaps too quickly. The man goes quiet for a long moment.

"Then hows'about that filly of yours? She's a pretty thing."

I clutch at Asfaloth's soaked mane. "She's not for sale."

"Best-looking horse I've seen around these parts. Healthy-like. She'll have all the best bed and board-" he chuckles- "better than what I can offer you inside, I wouldn't wager. Fresh hay, places to run, all that like."

"Don't you want the pony instead?"

The answer to that is clear on the mans face. Reluctantly I agree to his proposal, on the condition that we are given free food and drink, as much as we like, and plenty for both mounts, too. He shows me to the barn and I lead Asfaloth around, who comes obediently.

"Sorry about this, girl," I tell her as I enclose her in the warm paddock, next to Fíli's pony. "Looks like I won't be returning you home as promised."

I find the moonstone in my pocket and push it back into its hold; knowing I've traded her rather than the trinket around my neck makes me feel worse than it probably should. I set about justifying it to myself. "Still, things look good here. And believe me, we need all the magical help we can get. Maybe the Elves will care enough to come looking for you. Until then-" I reach into my satchel and pull out the juiciest apple I have- "have one on me."

She clips her teeth happily around the apple as I find another for Fíli's pony and leave the two in the warmth of the stables. Inside the inn there is a fire burning and a run-down looking barmaid sloshing drinks left and right between drunken merry men huddled in corners, singing away their blues. The barmaid, with a mane of curly bronze hair and a voluptuous figure, smacks away a groping hand as she tries to take an order.

"Vessa!" the innkeeper calls to her, "come and see to our little guests!"

She saunters over, tucks her frizzy copper hair behind her ear and purrs, "what can I get for you, then, my little dears? Look at you all soaked through!"

"Food, good lady," Fíli beams up at her with a smile, "lots of it, and three stiff ales if it's not too much trouble."

"As you like it," she smiles, pink cheeks full. "Folk like you are a long way from home... ooh, this one's a beauty, isn't she? Your little lady wife?"

"My sister," Fíli answers, a little too quickly.

"Ooh, of course, I should have known by all that sunny hair!" The woman sashays to the kitchens, giggling a little as she goes. Fíli's eyes linger after her, and I flick one of his moustache braids to get his attention.

"Something distracting you, my Lord?"

"As a man who's spent most of his years battling with Orcs a pretty face is a sweet relief," Fíli says, and catches my wrist on the table. He brings it to his mouth and kisses its underside. "Hence why your presence on our journey has been so much appreciated, dear lady."

Kíli coughs uncomfortably from beside the fireplace. His brother rolls his eyes at him and lets go of my hand.

"Though I do think you would have been safer staying with the Elves. There are far worse things out there than Orcs. Once things have calmed we shall have you escorted to Erebor; we'll clothe you in the finest furs and dance through the halls, and dine every night upon dragon hide!"

"As tempting as that sounds, I don't think the Elves and I are on good terms anymore. I stole one of their horses, remember, then sold it for a night in this stuffy old inn."

Plus I need to sleep with- wrong choice of words- your handsome brother so that I don't have a comatose body to deal with back home.

Fíli nods. "As I say, it is up to you. We would dearly miss your company. However, if you are to continue with us, you shall have to learn to protect yourself."

"And which one of you is going to teach me how to hack of Orc-heads?"

"We both will, if you can handle the two of us at once. You will need to learn how to properly use a sword. How to handle one, how to put it to good use." I imagine how Josie would laugh at those words. "You have that sword at your side but no idea how to use it. We two were trained in such things from an early age. It is perhaps unladylike to expect such a thing of you, but it is necessary."

As the three of us talk of training Fíli slips from the table and over to the counter where the barmaid is preparing the drinks. Soon she is laughing wildly, one had twirling through her brassy ringlets.

"I think your brother might be working the old Dwarvish charm," I suggest. and

"I think you might be right," Kíli grimaces. "Perhaps one day it will work for him."

Kíli says seems brighter now that he's warming up, a little less off-colour.

"Are you alright?" I ask, "truly?"

He clears his throat. "I did almost die today. I'm a little shaken." He says it as though it's something to be ashamed of. "But I'm okay. I don't fancy your chances against an Orcish army though, Lavender. Not with those weedy arms."

He pokes at me teasingly and I laugh him off. "Hey, this is life and death here- my life and death. It'd be nice if you didn't treat it so lightly."

The two of us smile at each other.

"That necklace is very becoming on you," he says, and reaches out to touch the moonstone. The firelight catches on his face and for a moment all I can think is God, he's so beautiful. For a moment it looks as though he is readying himself to say something, but then we hear the barmaid's tremulous laughter and all eyes are back on the pair.

Fíli helps the barmaid carry the mugs over as she giggles, batting her long eyelashes sweetly; Fíli is just as dizzy over her attentions, scattering compliments her way. I can't help but wonder how Thorin would feel about this inter-species flirting. We thank her as she deposits the goods, and I'm about to start teasing Fíli before he reaches over and attempts to stuff half of a pie into my mouth.

"Eat," he coaxes, "get your strength up. That Elven mulch we had forced upon us last night hardly qualified as food."

I chew on the dry meat with a frown.

"What is this?" I ask, struggling to swallow it down.

"Horse meat," the barmaid answers as she slips away, and suddenly I'm wishing I hadn't managed to.

The conversation goes the way of weapons and training, and Kíli makes some off-handed comment about my current skills being about as useful as Ori's slingshot.

"Leave Ori alone, you pair," I scald them, "just because he doesn't have the blood of the all-mighty Durin flowing through his veins. I bet there are areas neither of you could hold a candle to him in-"

"Such as looks?" Fíli jokes.

"Brute strength?" Kíli teases.

"I was thinking more along the lines of Literacy," I answer, and both of them say something in Dwarvish which seems to be the equivalent of, 'what a load of pish-posh!'

"Ori carries a diary and wears little purple ribbons in his hair that his mother plaited," Kíli barks, "he's hardly adventurer material."

"You are scarcely better on the mother front," Fíli teases him, flecks of heavily oiled pastry spraying as he speaks, "carrying that rock around. You may be audacious and skilled with a bow, little brother, but you are still a babe at heart."

"And we all know you're a picture of independence, Sunshine."

The smirk on Fíli's face melts away as his cheeks singe to a dark rouge. He hides his face behind his tankard, clearing his throat loudly.

I smirk. "'Sunshine?'"

"It's nothing," Fíli says quickly.

"Oh, it's nothing," Kíli grins, beaming with sardonic success, "only Fíli's nickname."

"'Sunshine?'" I smile, trying not to laugh, "who calls you that?"

Fili scowls. "Only our mother, and very rarely, too. Not since I was a child."

"If by a child you mean the last time we saw her, then yes. It's because of his beautiful golden hair. Mummy's little Lion, aren't you, FíFí?"

Fíli slaps his brother in the arm, so hard Kíli cries out, then slips back behind his mug of mead. I laugh for longer than I know I should before offering to fetch more drinks from the bar. It's still early afternoon, but the public house is surprisingly full, and its inhabitants are already surprisingly drunk.

I have a few choice words with a man at the bar who offers me a seat on his lap, and when I sit back down, Kíli's face is set into a scowl.

"Was he bothering you?"

"Not as much as the smell of his breath was. It's nothing," I say reassuringly, patting his hand briefly. He looks up at me, clearly not convinced, so I repeat my statement again and squeeze his palm. "It's nothing, Kí."

As the day steadily turns to night I have to fight to steer Kíli away from alcohol, reasoning that it's the last thing he needs after all most dying- on the contrary, my lady, is his answer, and soon enough both brothers are tipsy. The barmaid's time working comes to an end, and with his muse for the day vanished, Fíli declares,

"To bed, now, for all of us. We might be young but the night grows old. Besides, we have a long journey ahead, we shall have to leave early... and I, for one, have drank quite enough more than my share of the Innkeeper's booze. To sleep now, all of us."

Apparently 'too sleep now, all of us' translates from Khuzdul as 'we'll just have a couple more drinks and a pork pie and of, go on then, one more ale won't hurt', because that's exactly what happens. Fíli and Kíli can barely slur their words by the end of their final drink, and even I have succumbed to a beer or two by the night's end, the heavy press of alcohol at my brain as we navigate our way upstairs to our rooms. I wish the brother's goodnight as they take to their twin room and collapse on the bedsheets, not even bothering to pull back the covers. Kíli sneaks into my room shortly after, leaving Fíli abed.

"He won't even notice I'm gone," he whispers, falling on the bed beside me, "he's already asleep, snoring like a pig."

"I refuse to believe that Fíli snores," I smile into my pillow, "I imagine even in sleep he looks as majestic as a Lion."

"In which case he must be sharing his bed with a sow... or that barmaid, perhaps."

"Cheeky." I throw out a hand to smack him, and he catches it in his own. He presses it to his lips and wishes me goodnight. That's how we fall asleep, our fingers laced together, smiling and aching and very much alive.

~oOo~

I wake back home feeling well-rested and content. I nearly jump out of my skin as Josie springs out from behind the counter, scaring me intentionally and giggling. When she calms down she says,

"Jeez louise, Ally, you look dreadful."

"Thank you, Josie. I'm glad the beauty sleep has been working for me."

"So at what point were you going to tell me that you and Dwarf-boy have been exploring the bat-cave?"

"I… do not know what that means. Am I supposed to know what that means?"

"I think you do; the pair of you have been rolling in the hay, lighting the firework- but hey, don't get all embarrassed, it's perfectly natural. I don't blame you, he's as fine as a balding man's hair, but you should have told me!"

"Josie, we're friends."

"Oh, come of it. The cat's out of the bag, he told me when he woke up!"

I sigh in disbelief, shaking my head. "You must have got it wrong. Why would he... where is he, anyway?"

"Out in the garden again hunting for pigeons. So you're telling me there's nothing going on between you two?"

I shake my head; she looks disappointed. "Soon."

She quickly tires of her teasing and goes to change out of her pyjamas. Not long after Kíli comes back, and to my relief, he hasn't brought a pigeon with him. He sits beside me on the sofa, munching on what looks to be a handful of wild blackberries. He offers me one.

"You should have washed those first."

"No need, they're not poisonous. We have these back home..."

He stops short and I realise that he is staring transfixed at my chest. I bring my arms up self-consciously, trying to form some sort of a reaction before he says,

"Lavender... look."

I reach up to my throat to find a metal chain tied about it; looking down I see the moonstone pendant.

A sense of shock titillates through me. I curse under my breath.

"This is from your world. How is that possible?"

He narrows his eyes at it. "You were wearing that at the inn, I remember it. What is it?"

I push out the moonstone and show him what's left. "A ring made by the Elves. I found it in the Troll cave."

He reaches out to touch it and I tuck it away.

"The Elf woman told me it might have some magic left in it. I think it helped with the horse."

"With... the horse?"

"Like I said, it has some power."

"Enough to bring itself here," he notes. "Then again, Elves know a deeper magic than most."

I stare at the necklace for a long time, rubbing the ring between my fingers and trying to understand how this could be possible. Kíli soon loses interest, more accustomed to magical anomalies than I could ever be, and reaches for the television remote, quickly becoming engrossed in whatever show is on. The television has quickly become his favourite thing; he struggles even to turn away from the adverts. I muster up the courage to ask,

"Did you tell Jos that we're sleeping together?"

"Yes," He says blandly. When he picks up on my horrified expression he quickly elaborates. "We are sleeping together. Here, every night, on the soda."

"Sofa. I don't think you understand what she means by 'sleeping together.' Here it means... well, you know... doing it."

Kíli frowns. "...Doing what?"

"Doing- uh, I mean having- sex."

For half a second I think I'll have to explain what that is too; Kíli's eyes widen at first, and then he laughs.

"How obscene! You are far too young to be married. Dwarven women do not marry until they are at least sixty, if at all, and even then it's frowned upon."

I can almost hear Josie rolling her eyes from the bedroom as she listens in. "What a surprise, no sex before marriage. No fun, either. So you're a virgin, Kíli? Don't let him near the black candle!"

Kíli is a luminous shade of red that I never knew humans- well, Dwarves- could turn. "I am still unmarried, and only seventy-eight at that-!"

"Seventy-eight! Ha!"

I throw a cushion at her, knocking her off the side of the sofa; she falls to the ground with a thud and no more is heard about virginity and black candles for a few minutes. Josie has college today, leaving Kíli and in peace for a few precious hours. The rest of the day slips away quickly, lost to college work, several rounds of Jenga and two viewings of Hocus Pocus, a movie which so enthrals Kíli that he puts it on again for a third viewing.

"No no no," I tell him, turning away from my phone for a moment, "twice is more than enough."

"But perhaps this time the Witches will win-!"

"No, that's not how it works. Besides, it's about time we got some sleep."

"Gamut nanun," he mutters, lacing his fingers with my own.

"Yeah, yeah... something Dwarfy. Same to you."

As he settles down I reach back to undo the clasp at my neck, inspecting the Elven ring in the dim light. Its creamy-cold colour is especially beautiful, perhaps even more beautiful than the moonstone it held. I slip it from the chain and try it on for size, finding that it fits particularly well on my index finger. I admire it a while longer before I'm distracted by a notification lighting up the screen on my phone; I pull the blanket over Kíli and myself and grab at his hand as I scroll endlessly through my social media, consuming what I know to be mostly vapid content, wasting another hour of my life before finally beginning to drift off to sleep...

~oOo~

When I awake back in Middle Earth, it is to the sound of banging on the door of my room; Kíli is barely awake himself, murmuring with his head still under the covers.

"Rise and shine," Fíli calls through the door, "Lavender, are you decent?"

"Uh... no?"

"Well hurry then, we need to leave. I'll be waiting in the lobby, Kíli is down there already."

He certainly is not, I think as the golden Dwarf's footsteps disintegrate.

"Time to wake up," I hiss to Kíli, crouching beside him on the rumpled bed. "That was too close. What conclusion do you think he'd have drawn if he found the two of us in bed together?"

Kíli blinks at me innocently, still half-drunk and half-asleep. Once realisation hits him, his eyes widen, he jets forwards, and within two minutes he has pulled on his overshirt, his undercoat, his overcoat, the other ten-thousand layers he seems to own and is kitted out with full gauntlets, vambraces, knee guards and all manner of armour and weaponry. How he manages to haul all of that around with him all day every day is beyond me.

He begins to make the bed as I attempt to rake my fingers through my hair at the vanity table, tugging out knot after knot.

"You have to tell the Wizard about the ring," he says unexpectedly.

"Oh... yeah, maybe. We'll see how things go."

Not wanting to talk about the matter any longer, I slip the ring onto my finger and we head downstairs. When Kíli and I get there we find that there is still a group of drunken men in the bar, half of them asleep, the other half singing merrily:

'Yo, ho! to the bottle I go,

To heal my heart and drown my woe.

Rain may fall and wind may blow,

And many miles be still to go,

But under a tall tree I will lie,

And let the clouds go sailing by!'

"We need to leave soon if we are ever to catch up with the others before they reach the mountain," Fíli tells the two of us as we sit down to breakfast.

"And what do you plan on saying to Thorin when we catch up to them?"

"He'll see that Kíli is strong and well-rested, and we shall... well, we'll find a way of convincing him."

I'm not really in the mood for another mouthful of horse pie so I make my way to the stables to collect Fíli's pony. I'd much rather take Asfaloth with us, and I tell her as such, feeding her the last of my apples and kissing her nose before leading the pony out to meet the two Dwarves. Kíli and I climb atop her back and Fíli leads her along, feet squishing in the damp mud beneath us; still, the weather has brightened, sun smiling and the rains settled to only a light drizzle, sweeping a pale streak of rainbow up in the sky.

"So," the older brother says eventually, "which of you would care to tell me why you two were sharing a room last night?"

"We weren't," Kíli says, staring at me wide-eyed. I stare back.

"Well there was no sign of you when I awoke, brother, and you weren't in the lobby. Did you decide to sleep in the stables and keep the pony company?"

I laugh nervously, flushing the colour of a ripe strawberry. A trotting of hooves from the other side of the river interrupts the conversation, and we turn to see a parade of elegant, long-haired waifs mirroring our path on the other side of the water.

"Elves," Kíli murmurs. He notes the copper in their hair. "From Rivendell, by the looks of them."

"Rivendelves," I decide, smiling at my own wit. "They probably want their horse back."

The Elves, who are all children, catch sight of us and begin giggling. A few seconds later they begin singing, each and every one of them with clear voices which are unattainably beautiful. lean my head in their direction to hear better as they call out,

'Oh, where are you going? Your pony needs shoeing!

O! Where are you going with beards all a-wagging?

Your pony is straying! Come! Come back to the valley!'

"We're not coming back. Leave us alone," Kíli yells.

"Why do they want us to go back?" I murmur; Fíli shakes his head.

"They are jesting, I think."

"What, you mean, like... taking the piss?"

Fíli nods. The singing becomes louder, and I hear the young Elves laughing; not the tinkling-of-bells laughter that we heard ringing through the halls of Rivendell, but a mean-spirited, 'haha, you just fell over a banana skin!' kind of laugh.

'To fly would be folly, To stay would be jolly!

Here grass is still growing, The white water flowing,

And elves are yet singing, 'Come! Come back to the valley!''

"Just ignore them," Kíli says quietly, in the way a person might try to avoid a salesman in a shopping centre. "Perhaps they'll go away."

And so we do, riding on with awkward conversation to mask the trolly-lolling of the young Elves. It doesn't work.

'The stars are far brighter than gems without measure,

The moon is far whiter than silver in treasure:

The fire is more shining on hearth in the gloaming

Than gold won by mining, so why go a-roaming?

O! Where are you going, so late in returning?

The river is flowing, the stars are all burning!

O! Whither so laden, so sad and so dreary?

Here Elf and Elf-maiden now welcome the weary,

'Come! Come back to the valley!''

The mocking laughter gets louder.

"Well, now I see why you don't like Elves. I'd expected Elf-children to be more courteous."

They begin pulling faces across at us and yip what can only be insults in their silky tongue. After another five minutes of this incessant nonsense, I can feel the rage coming off of the two Dwarven brothers; then the Elves take up their song again, this time in a high-pitched mocking tone.

"Right, I've had enough." I lean up in the saddle and cry across the river,

"Listen here, you pampered little fairies! You can take your stinking valley, and you can shove it up your polished, hairless-"

"Yes!" Kíli cries, masking my profanity, "your mothers would surely think badly of you for this!"

I raise an eyebrow at him. He tries again, racking his brain for a better insult.

"You... wenches! Trollops! You buck-toothed, mop-riding fireflies from hell!"

"Gelek menu caragu rukhs!" Fíli cries, the already angry-sounding tone of the old Dwarvish language sounding ever angrier, "metun menu rukhas!"

The Elves go quiet, stunned, and so do we.

"Yeah!" I shout, "whatever he said!"

The young Elves stop riding opposite us, scared off, and disappear into the mist as we ride on. We are left to journey in peace for some time, riding along for a couple of hours with barely a word exchanged; a thick rain fills the sky once again and we huddle beneath the brothers' cloaks as the path winds on. The pony begins to huff impatiently.

My teeth chattering against the cold and Kíli's arms securing me upright, I close my eyes and hope to fall asleep.

"Wake me up when we get there," I yawn, and Kíli allows my head to fall back into the groove of his neck. Just as I am on the verge of falling asleep once more, a rough voice like gravel being churned disrupts my slumber.

"Did I not warn you about straying from the path?"

I open my eyes to find a familiar face before me, a most welcome sight.

Gandalf.

His robes are dank and sodden with the heavy rainfall, turned from warm grey to a sticky black. The old Wizard smiles, and the rain finally begins to let up.