A/N: Juno (Eleanor) again. This will be the last chapter for today. Chapter 30 is scheduled for the end of this week or the beginning of next week. I'll be back then to post again. I look forward to hearing from you all once you get a chance to wade through the slough of new chapters. :) I hope you enjoy them all.
Until next time, keep calm and stay awesome.
Twenty Nine
Billa took a sip of her tea, savoring the sweet, warm steam as it swirled around her face. For the first time in ages, she didn't hurt or feel like the world was trying to buck her off. It was wonderful. But there was still one thing that disturbed her delicious rest.
Thorin.
He wasn't anywhere, and as ever when they were separated, Billa was sure the dwarf was off getting himself into terrible trouble. At least he had her ring. With it, he could get out of any number of messes. Hopefully.
The door opened to admit Kíli, who seemed perpetually worried, in spite of his smiles. She didn't blame him.
"How're you feeling, Billa?"
If she'd been asked that question once, she'd been asked a thousand times. Still, Kíli meant well, and she wasn't about to take her own anxieties out on him. She shrugged, watching her tea to make sure she didn't upset it. Hot tea soaking one's lap was never pleasant.
"Feeling a little more myself. Any news on Thorin?"
"Nothing." Deeper concern sobered the young dwarf's otherwise cheerful face. Billa still couldn't believe the change in him. He was almost nothing like the joking, fun-loving prankster she'd met long ago at her door in Bag End. Then again, the others probably thought much the same of her.
She felt a faint stirring in his chest for a long-forgotten armchair next to a long-forgotten hearth, then chided herself for a nostalgic fool. Despite these latest misadventures, and the ones that had come before, she wouldn't trade this life for a comfortable, Shire-bound one. She'd come too far. Seen too much. One thing in particular, though, she wished she needn't have seen.
"Kíli." She sighed, her stomach fluttering slightly. "I told Lord Elrond what happened. It's only fair I tell you."
Kíli sat down hesitantly, and from his worried expression, it wasn't hard to tell she was wearing her grief out on her sleeve. Slowly, hating to relive it and unable to hold it in, Billa told the story of Gandalf's last stand. The confrontation with Saruman, their flight, the fireball, his last words, his last attack.
The halfling might have stopped there, but at Kíli's prompting, she reluctantly told him what happened after that, the argument with Saruman, the searching of Gandalf's body, dropping the ring... the knife. Falling. With a shudder, she stopped, taking a long drink of her tea.
"After that, everything's fuzzy. It's... hard to remember."
Kíli was momentarily at a loss. He shook his head slowly, face set in a frown. "Gandalf... would be happy to know you made it out of that alive, I think," he said finally, looking very sad. They'd known Gandalf was dead for quite some time, or missing, presumed dead (according to Elrond). It was clear finally hearing the full account of what had happened made the whole thing feel much more real. More final.
Billa leaned back in her chair slightly, setting her cup on the nightstand beside her. The elves, she decided, really knew how to brew a good pot of tea. Or perhaps it was simply the fact that it was the first proper tea she'd had since... she could hardly remember. Anyway, that was her mind, veering off into distraction rather than facing the harsh realities of her life where it stood.
"I think you're right," she said softly, not without the faintest quaver to the words. "It was partly for him I kept going. Mostly for Thorin, though, and..." She glanced downward, patting her burgeoning belly gently. "Well, you know." She smiled suddenly, thinking of something.
"Tauriel... she was here, wasn't she? I remember her voice. How is she?"
Some of the gloom left Kíli's face and he smiled again, despite the nervous tension in his arms and shoulders.
"Taur's doing fine. Worried about you, of course, and ready to not be pregnant anymore." Saying the word made Kíli blush, which Billa found endearing. She and Thorin hadn't spoken of her condition. She wondered if Thorin would be just as embarrassed about it. In a private corner of her mind, she hoped so.
Under different circumstances, she might have chuckled at the thought. "Shouldn't you be with her , then?"
Kíli looked doubly uncomfortable. "She's being looked over. To make sure everything's alright. She told me to check on you."
Billa shrugged. "Well, I'm fine. Whatever Lord Elrond did, he did a good job. It's not me we should concerned about."
Kíli seemed uncertain, but a pointed look brought recognition and shame to his face.
"There's not much we can do about Uncle," he murmured, bowing his head. "I would have gone with him, but I needed to stay with Tauriel."
His tone was one of deep regret, and Billa felt her heart twist in sympathy. As much as he'd changed, this much hadn't. He hated being left behind, and this time couldn't be any easier to bear than his time in Laketown.
"It's hard," she acknowledged, wishing she could say something more productive, "not being able to do anything. Do you know if Elrond has... made any plans yet?" She had only been awake for a couple days, but she had a feeling there was a great deal of expectant tension hovering just outside her room, out of sight.
There was a moment of silence, wherein Kíli shifted a little in his seat, and the chair squeaked under his weight. From his discomfort, she gathered that there was a plan, but he wasn't satisfied with it.
"He intends to send a messenger," the dwarf began, but was interrupted by a ruckus outside. Elves were calling to one another, horses neighing, and cries of "Mithrandir" were echoing from stone to water to window.
Billa sat up, eyes wide. It couldn't be. Had they found his body? But they sounded happy - joyful, even. She traded a look with Kíli, then glanced at the window. Her legs felt a little too weak, yet, to make it all the way there, but even as Kíli stood and moved toward the window, the clamor faded, muffled by walls and doors.
"You don't think-?" Billa's throat was constricted, almost cutting off the words. Kíli shook his dark head, leaning out the window to see what was going on below. By his troubled expression, she could only assume he'd seen nothing as he straightened again.
"They wouldn't have been so excited if-"
"If Miss Baggins is here, then let me see her at once." Pause. A soft voice murmuring in protest. "If this wasn't a matter of life and death, I don't think I would be here."
If the voice hadn't been enough, the door opened and in strode Gandalf, his hair a white nimbus about his head, his beard wild and yet somehow crisp. Billa was so distracted by the Wizard's bleached appearance that it took her a moment to notice anything else - like his clothes. He wore a long silver-grey cloak, but the narrow opening between the two front panels, hanging from the crest of his left shoulder, revealed nothing underneath by pale, bare skin.
"Gandalf!" Another figure entered the room, which was beginning to feel quite crowded. Billa watched as Lord Elrond swept toward his old friend, face alight with too many emotions to name, and embraced the old man as she'd seen him do on several other occasions. These two had been friends longer than most folk had been alive, and seemed to exchange life debts like hobbits exchange party favors. To her surprise, Gandalf's expression didn't change. He was looking intensely at Billa, and brushed Elrond off impatiently.
"Not now," he said brusquely. "We haven't time."
Billa detected momentary disappointment on the face of the elf lord, but it passed quickly, leaving only traces of it to be glimpsed beneath layers of wonder and relief. After such a slap in the face, the hobbit knew she would've been wounded beyond words. If Elrond was, he was hiding it well. How she noticed such things at all in a time like this was anyone's guess.
"Gandalf..." She shook her curly head, at a loss. "I- I saw..."
"No time to explain!" the Wizard said, his manner not so much grumpy as incredibly urgent. "I've cost us enough as it is. We must leave immediately." He waved a hand brusquely, as though to cut off any other protests. "Get what you'll need for the journey, quickly!"
"Journey? Gandalf, what are you talking about?" Billa sat up as well as she could, and shouldn't have been at all surprised when Kíli put a hand on her arm.
The Wizard opened his mouth, probably to say that he didn't have time to explain, but Lord Elrond interrupted. There was a flurry of movement near the door as the elf lord turned toward his miraculously resurrected guest, holding a folded stack of white cloth.
"Gandalf, my friend, you're not dressed for a journey. Tell us your need and your plan after you are dressed." Elrond's deep voice was smooth, though his brow was wrinkled with concern.
This seemed to distract Gandalf for a moment, and he looked at the folded cloth with a distant frown on his face. "White..." he murmured, as though confused by the color.
"Saruman is no longer worthy of the robes he wears. You, my friend, are the new head of the White Council."
"I thought maybe his robes were always white, he just never washed 'em," muttered Kíli, and Billa had to stifle a laugh. It had been a highly inappropriate joke, but it had struck her funny bone, and it was hard not to let it show.
Gandalf either ignored the comment, or was too distracted to notice. The honor was not lost upon him, even if it was obvious from his physical transformation that he was meant to have it. He seemed to relax a little, accepting the garment with a nod. "I will return shortly, Billa. Meanwhile, make yourself ready to travel." Elrond's look became once again one of protest, though a sharp glance from Gandalf quickly cut off any verbal reproach the elf lord may have intended.
When the Wizard had disappeared to dress himself, Billa looked at Elrond, then at Kíli. "He was dead. I saw him die." As though Gandalf's presence had been a cork in a bottle, and now that he was gone the contents were spilling out, Billa felt herself beginning to shake. Had she gone mad? Was that it? "I was right there, I saw it."
"Calm yourself, Billa." Elrond put a calming hand on her shoulder, and the halfling forced herself to breathe deeply. The elf lord continued in a soothing tone. "I don't pretend to know the depth of a Wizard's power, but Gandalf has returned, and I have no doubt that he means the best for us all. Master Kíli, could you go to the tailor downstairs and collect the things I had made for Miss Baggins?"
Kíli returned quickly, dark velvet and wool swinging over his arm, a small bag hanging over his shoulder. "Looks like a coat."
"It is," Elrond confirmed. "The one you wore when you were found was tattered beyond any hope of repair. It was patched and mended many times, however, which led me to believe it was precious to you." The elf lord smiled, reaching for the garment and holding it up by its sleeves.
Billa gasped. "How did you-? It's... it's my coat." More precisely, it was how her coat might have looked had it been new, fitted, and made by elves, rather than old, oversized, and made by the Lake Men. It was truly a sight to behold, and delighted Billa to no end. "How many surprises do you think I can handle in one day?"
"As many as you need to." Elrond's tone was sober, but a faint smile lit his dark eyes from within as he gave Billa her new coat. "Master Kíli, please tell your companions what happened, as much as we know. This concerns all of Oakenshield's Company. Billa, I'll send a servant in to help you pack and dress. I don't think Gandalf will be persuaded to wait."
Billa tested her limbs, standing cautiously. She felt weak and tired, like she was recovering from a bad cold, but nothing hurt. She hoped that wouldn't change when she mounted a pony. "I think I'll be alright, as long as he doesn't expect me to cross the High Pass on foot." A nervous smile flickered across her face, and she pressed on. "But what about my baby? I won't put him in danger if I can help it."
As Kíli reluctantly left the room, Elrond produced a somewhat strained-looking smile. "I have to trust that Gandalf knows what he's doing. He has returned at the behest of the Valar. They will guide his decisions, and I pray, protect your child."
Billa nodded, swallowing nervously. She could tell Elrond was releasing her against his better judgement. "I suppose so. All the same, I'll try not to overdo it if I can."
It seemed a very short time later when Billa was standing in the afternoon sunlight with Balin at one shoulder and a messy but determined-looking Dwalin at the other. Dori fussed over her and her new coat, and an unfamiliar red-bearded dwarf stood by Kíli, looking on with interest.
A group of elves made their way down the stairs toward them, and among them were Elrond and Gandalf, speaking in low tones and with serious expressions. Billa looked at Gandalf, alien in his white robe and neatly-trimmed beard, and wondered if she trusted this new Gandalf as much as she'd trusted the old one.
"I see. We have little choice, then." Elrond looked grave, but stepped back with a nod as Gandalf turned to the dwarves.
"We have little time. Miss Baggins, if there were any other way, I would leave you here in the safety of Rivendell, but I fear without your influence, Thorin may do something even more stubborn and disastrous than usual."
Billa thought to herself that it wasn't Thorin's fault that he was repeatedly placed in situations where all he had to choose from were stupid and disastrous things. She had no chance to comment on it, though, because Gandalf was already moving on with the next pertinent piece of information.
"I'll need one of you good dwarves to ride to Ered Luin with all speed. They need to be warned."
"Warned about which part?" grunted Dwalin.
"Saruman has long been the patron of the dwarves. He has betrayed the Free Peoples, and has far more in mind than hoarding gold at the cost of dwarven lives." The implied reference was plain enough for Dwalin, whose expression turned stony. "Where's Kíli?" Gandalf's question was met with silence at first, and Balin glanced back toward the door.
"Inside, with Tauriel. He won't leave her to ride to Ered Luin. Not when she's this close to her time." There were lines around his old eyes that Billa didn't remember seeing there before.
"I'll go." Dori stepped forward, though reluctantly. "The Blue Mountains are my home. They'll listen to me."
"Excellent. Another will need to ride to Erebor. Billa and I will take a roundabout route to get there, but the faster they're prepared against Saruman's trickery, the better." Gandalf's eyes swept over the group, and the unfamiliar red-haired dwarf stepped forward.
"I'll go. I can ride long and hard."
"Ride well, ride fast." With that settled, Gandalf extended a hand to Billa. "It's time to go." Billa could see there would be no arguing with him. This new Gandalf was twice as adamant as the old one. The horse, Billa noticed, was already saddled and waiting, a tall grey gelding with a dark muzzle and white stockings.
Oh, no. Here we are again. It felt a little surreal, Billa decided. All of this. She didn't have time to contemplate it long. Distracted as she was, Billa was surprised to be unceremoniously (though fairly gently) scooped up by the Wizard and put astride the horse, and her stomach was only just able to settle before Gandalf slid into the saddle behind her.
Billa tensed a little, automatically squeezing the horse's shoulders between her legs. As soon as the muscles between hip and knee began to clench, they screamed in protest, and Billa shuddered, whimpering in spite of herself.
Gandalf flanked her with his strong arms, holding her in place. He knew she was in pain, of that Billa had no doubt, but this was bigger than her - bigger than him. Nothing would stop them.
"Run like the wind," he whispered to the horse, gathering the reins into his long, pale hands.
The gelding snorted and leapt forward. Billa clutched at Gandalf's arms, then hunched over the gelding's neck, closing her eyes and concentrating fiercely on Thorin. They were going to Thorin.
