A/N: A warning: The scene in italics depicts a battle and the injuries that comes along with it. If you're irked by gore, I suggest scrolling past it. Also, there are descriptions of battle scars following this scene. If you're irked by that as well, the descriptions are in the second paragraph after Baylee first looks into her mirror.
The sounds of battle surrounded her.
Baylee swallowed hard and raised her shield in time to block an orcish axe. Using the shield, she shoved the orc off balance and thrust her sword forward. The blade pushed through leather and flesh before it was stopped by bone. As she yanked the sword out of the orc's lower abdomen—one of the few weak points she could reach at her height—the orc fell to its knees, holler in pain. With its neck now within reach, she stabbed the blade through its throat.
She glanced around; the bodies of orcs littered the ground around them. She wasn't couldn't tell how many there were, but she knew it had to be over fifty. Maybe even seventy-five. None of them, she saw, were human or half-dwarf—that's what mattered most.
"Baylee! How're you holding up?" she heard someone call. Glancing over, she saw that it was the other of her cousins, Eira.
"I don't know," she called back. Seeing an orc running towards her, she spun out of the way.
Having been in mid-sword swing, the orc stumbled past her. With its unarmored backside exposed to her, she brought her sword down on the back of its neck.
She swore as she was suddenly tackled to the ground. As her side hit the hard stone, a sharp, fiery pain filled the right side of her head. She cried out and shoved herself away from the orc. She forced herself to get back to her feet; she could feel blood running down the side of her head and along her neck.
Across from her, the orc smirked as it spat out part of her ear. She felt her stomach churn; if there had been any food in it, she was certain she would have thrown up. The orc charged forward, a pair of axes in its hands. Though she was used to fighting against her aunt, this orc's movements were far different—they were more wild, more untamed. She couldn't predict which side was going to strike next, making it extremely difficult to block and parry.
At last, she got an opportunity as one of the axes got stuck in her shield. Trying to yank the axe free, it instead pulled her closer to it and she swung her sword into its exposed thigh. The blade sunk through the mottled flesh until it hit bone, at which point she pulled back and swung again. She aimed lower this time, wanting to get the back of its knee.
The orc fell to the side as she cut through its tendons. Quickly, she brought the blade across its throat, using her shield to block the black blood that sprayed out.
She looked around again. The side of her head felt like it was on fire and her limbs felt as heavy as lead. But as more and more orcs came charging into courtyard, she knew she had to push on. She had to protect the people hiding in the building behind her.
"Lady Nienna, please keep my courage burning," she said under her breath.
Swallowing hard, she darted forward to engage another orc. Soon, it joined the rest of the orc and goblin corpses littering the ground, as did two more after that.
Baylee was just pulling her sword out of the side of an orc when something slammed into her stomach. The force was great enough that she was sent flying backwards, the air knocked from her lungs. When she hit the ground, she rolled a couple of feet before coming to a stop on her side. She gasped for air and gripped her stomach; the leather cuirass she wore had puncture marks in it.
An enormous orc walked towards her, holding a spiked mace at its side; the mace's head had to have been two feet long. It was covered in dozens of metal spikes that were now covered in fresh blood. Her blood.
It was then Baylee realized that her sword was missing—she must have dropped it when she had gotten hit.
Pushing herself backwards across the ground, she glanced around for a weapon. Before she could find one within reach, however, the orc swung the mace. A small cry left her mouth as she raised her shield; the force of the blow had been great enough to drive the shield back into her face.
"Baylee!"
Her mother's voice seemed to echo in her ears before being drowned out by the sound of the mace once more impacting with the wood. The orc brought its arm back for a third swing, but the hit never came. Peeking out from behind her shield, Baylee saw a snarl on her mother's face as her sword cut through the orc's arm and then its neck.
Éolynna reached down, grabbing Baylee by the shoulder and pulling her to her feet. "Up, my filly. You must stay up," she told her, her words breathless.
"I-I know, mama," she said. She managed a smile, though the pain was evident in her eyes.
Horror suddenly came to her mother's face as she saw the bloody mess that was once her ear and the blood beginning to stain the leather on her stomach. "Oh, Baylee…"
"Don't think about them," Baylee told her. Another pained smile came to her lips as she walked past her, crouching down to pick up her sword. A hiss of pain left her mouth as she stood upright.
"I'm staying with you, my filly," Éolynna told her. "Your wounds are going t' slow you down. But you need to last just a little bit longer—do you understand? You must keep fighting."
She nodded. "I'll last as long as I need to, mama. I promise." Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Swearing, she turned just in time to block an oncoming orc.
Éolynna ducked behind the creature, bringing her sword down across its back. Her blade had severed the buckles and belts holding its breastplate and the metal slipped out of place. Baylee drove her sword forward into its chest from the front while her mother drove her sword in through the back.
Together, mother and daughter continued to fight, bringing down orc after orc.
Finally, the orcish numbers began to dwindle until just a few of them were left in the courtyard. But these orcs were just as big—if not bigger—than the one that had hit Baylee with its mace. The only saving grace was that these orcs wore less armor.
Éolynna and Baylee were trying to bring down one of the massive orcs, both of them darting around it and trying to slash at it with their swords in an attempt to confuse it. It was working somewhat; the orc twisted and turned as it tried to keep track of them. Growing frustrated, it started to watch only one of them, though neither woman noticed.
A choking sound left Baylee's throat as a large hand suddenly grabbed her throat. The orc lifted her into the air, a wicked sneer on its face. Not having enough room to swing her sword, Baylee instead summoned as much strength as she could and, bringing her legs up, slammed her feet into the orc's face. As it stumbled back, it let go of her.
Éolynna watched as her daughter managed to land on her feet, but staggered as she regained her balance. Bringing her sword across the orc's back as it tried to find its footing, she then pushed her blade through its torso. As she withdrew the blade, she yanked it upwards, making sure to do as much damage as possible on the way out. The orc fell to its knees and then forward, onto the ground. There it lay, unmoving.
As she looked around, she found the other orcs dead, but this was no time for celebration. In front of her, Baylee was doubled over in pain, her hand pressed against her stomach. "We need t' get you t' a healer," she said, worry filling her voice.
"They're all in the great hall," Baylee reminded her. "They're blocked off from us." She looked up at her mother, tears streaming down her face. "I'll—I'll be fine, mama. It's not deep. It just hurts." She managed a small smile as she looked up at her mother. With no more orcs around, she realized that she couldn't hear the sounds of battle anymore.
All was quiet.
"Listen. It's silent," she then said, forcing herself to stand upright despite the pain. "I think—I think we might've won the war, mama."
Éolynna cupped her face in her hands, a smile on her lips, though there was still worry in her eyes. "I think you're right, my filly. I think we finally won." She saw something move behind her mother, but didn't have time to see what it was before Demelza's voice broke through the peaceful air.
"ÉOLYNNA!"
But Éolynna had no time to react. Her brows had just knitted themselves together when there was a glint of metal and the sickening sound of a blade chopping through bone. Baylee felt hot liquid splash across her face as Éolynna's head started to tilt to the side and—
Baylee's eyes shot wide open. Darkness surrounded her, as well as her soft, down-filled blanket. Save for the sound of her own, hurried breathing, all was silent.
"I'm in my bed," she whispered, feeling her heart racing. Clenching her eyes shut, she covered her face with her hands in a mixture of frustration and fear. "I'm in my bed. Not on the battlefield."
After a few moments, she sat up and threw back the blanket; her body protested this, as it was sore from a week's worth of sparring practices. Doing her best to ignore the stiffness in her body, she leaned over to fiddle with the oil lamp and box of matches on her bedside table. Within a minute or two, the lamp was lit and had bathed the area immediately around it in warm, welcoming light. Picking the lamp up, she carried it across her room and set it on her dresser.
'I really need that dreamless sleep tea uncle makes,' she thought, pouring a bit of water into her washbasin. 'But I can't get it until he restocks the rest of his supplies in Laketown…' She splashed the cold water on her face, not caring if she got any on her nightgown. 'At least I can still wake myself up before I scream.'
She used the bottom of her nightgown to dry off her face. Then, going over to her east-facing window, she pushed the curtain back as she sniffled; she used the inside of her collar to wipe her nose. Outside, the world was still dark, but in the distance, the sun was beginning to poke its head over the horizon. The sky, she saw, was free of any clouds.
"Still fairly early," she murmured, "but I know I won't be able t' get back t' sleep. At least it looks like it's going t' be a proper spring day today." Shaking her head, she let the curtain fall shut and returned to her dresser. She opened the drawers and pulled out a fresh set of clothes for the day. Removing her nightgown, she shivered slightly; while it was no longer freezing in the mornings, her room was still a bit chilly.
While she gathered up the legs of her hose to make pulling them on easier, she caught sight of herself in her mirror. She set her hose aside before turning the wick of the oil lamp up a bit, making it glow brighter. Going to stand in front of the mirror, she bit her lower lip as she looked herself over.
First her eyes saw the multitude of freckles covering her body, and then her buck teeth. Next came the shape of her body; while her hips and hindquarters were still the only noticeable curves she had, she was glad to see that she had managed to put on a bit of weight up top.
Demelza and Galiene were always complaining that she was too skinny.
Finally, came the scars. While she didn't have many of them, the scars she did have weren't pleasant to look at. She ran her fingers along the puncture marks left by the mace; they were spread across the width of her stomach, some deeper than others, but all of them dark thanks to having gotten infected while she was healing. Along the outside of her right thigh was a set of deep claw marks. She could remember that she hadn't even noticed receiving those—it was only when she was being treated by a healer that she learned of their presence. It was same for the large scar that wrapped around the left side of her waist to her lower back. She had no idea what had caused it, but it, too, had gotten infected, leaving the scar bigger and worse than the actual wound. And, of course, there was the remnants of her ear.
For a split second, the image of the orc spitting out her ear filled her vision.
Gasping, she quickly shook the image from her head and grabbed her hose, pulling them on. Then came a sleeveless cream-colored underdress; overtop it went an olive-green surcoat with short, somewhat puffy sleeves, and flowers that were embroidered with golden thread.
'Let's see…first I'll need to bring in some buckets of water,' she thought as she carried the lamp back over to her bedside table. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out her comb. 'Then I'll get the stovetop fire built up. Once those coals are going, I'll steal some and get the oven fire going.' Her nose scrunched up as she started to untangle her hair. 'After that, I'll get started on the fruit bread. I should also wash some potatoes and get them cubed up. I remember Galiene mentioning she wanted to use the leftover corned beef and turn it into hash for breakfast this morning…'
Once her hair was combed through, she sectioned off the top half and made quick work of braiding it. She tied it off with a thin piece of ribbon before moving to pull on her boots. Then, blowing out the oil lamp, she left her room.
It was no surprise to her that the short hallway was nearly pitch black; there were no windows in it, nor were there any windows in the family room. That didn't bother her, however, as she had walked the path thousands of times and was able to easily navigate it. Before leaving the family quarters, she pulled a length of cord from a hook on the wall; hanging from it was a small key. There were three more hanging from the hook—they were the keys that would unlock the door to the family quarters, as they usually kept it locked.
After leaving the family area and making sure she had locked the door, she headed for the kitchen and began the tasks she had lined out for herself. She had fetched the water, rebuilt the fires, and washed the potatoes. By the time she started cutting the potatoes, there was enough light coming in through the window that she could see around the room with relative ease.
It was when she was cutting up her fifth potato that she heard a small knock on the door. Looking up, she saw Bofur poking his head in. "Morning, Bofur," she said, a smile coming to her lips as she saw him. "The kettle's on the stove—though it's not quite ready yet. I only put it on just a few minutes ago."
"That's alright. I'm patient," he chuckled. "You're up a bit earlier than normal." Fetching a stool, he carried it over to the counter, where he used it to reach the shelf of mugs.
"As are you. Bifur's snorin' keep you from goin' back t' sleep again?"
He shook his head. "Nah, not this time. I went t' bed earlier last night is all." Grabbing what had become his favorite mug (because it held the most tea), he hopped down onto the floor. "What about you?"
"Hm? Oh. I had a nightmare is all."
His brows furrowed. "A nightmare?"
She nodded, scooping up a handful of potato cubes only to drop them into a large, wooden bowl. "Aye, a nightmare. I get them once in a while." Plucking up another potato from the pile, she cut it in half. "I couldn't get back t' sleep after this one, so I thought I'd just get up an' do something productive." The mental image of the massive orc's face flashed before her eyes, making her flinch slightly.
His frown grew when he saw her wince and, as he scooted the stool down a few paces so he could pick out a tea, he said, "Must've been a bad one if you couldn't get back t' sleep, especially given how exhausted you were last night." Not only had it been a busy day for the inn, as someone held their birthday celebration there, but Demelza had increased their sparring session to five rounds instead of three.
She tried to think of a way to phrase her words so Bofur wouldn't grow more concerned, but after a moment, she realized she was unable to do such. "Aye, it was bad," she admitted with a sigh. "You can blame that on my memory. It wasn't so much a nightmare as it was me relivin' a bad memory."
He nodded slowly in understanding. While he was curious as to what the memory was, he knew better than to ask about it. If she needed to talk about it, she would initiate that conversation on her own. "Do you need a hug?" he asked instead after a moment had passed.
She blinked, pausing in her potato cutting to look up at him. "Pardon?"
"Do you need a hug?" he repeated. "Sometimes, somethin' as simple as a hug is what's needed t' help a person feel better after nightmares like that." He wore a friendly smile as he shrugged.
A quiet laugh left her mouth and she set the knife down; he was right. Hugs usually did help her feel better after such dreams and since she hadn't wanted to bother Will or her father, Bofur's offer was a welcomed surprise. "You know…I think a hug would help," she told him. "It certainly wouldn't make things worse."
"Exactly!" he chirped. Hopping off the stool a second time, he set his chosen tea tin down on the counter before walking around the island and over to Baylee. As he wrapped his arms around her, he felt his cheeks grow warm and he suddenly felt a bit shy—but why? He was helping cheer her up. There was nothing to get bashful about…
Little did he know, but Baylee's cheeks had also grown hot as she returned the hug. She was pleasantly surprised by how nice it felt; usually, the hugs she received involved her having to stand on her tiptoes or her being hoisted up like a doll. But with this one, neither happened.
In fact, Bofur holding her like this made her feel strangely…safe? She wasn't sure why it made her feel this way; there was no danger around and there hadn't been for years. But it was a pleasant feeling…and what made it even better was that he smelled of cherry tobacco. It was a scent she would have never associated with a dwarf, and yet, it seemed to suit him perfectly.
"Thank you," she said after a moment. Reluctantly, she pulled back and smiled down at him. "It did help."
"Any time, lass," he told her, smiling up at her. He was thankful that, while it there was light in the room, it wasn't enough to reveal how red his cheeks had become. "I'm glad it helped. An' speakin' o' help, do you need any with the food?" It was an offer he made every morning, though she almost always gave him the same answer.
Today, however, was a bit different. "Actually…if you wouldn't mind, could you fetch the corned beef from the pantry an' cut it into small cubes?" Picking up her knife, she returned to cutting up the potatoes.
"O' course, lass!" He started to walk towards sink in the corner, pulling his gloves off as he did so. "I take it this means that it'll be hash for breakfast?" Using the ladle, he got his hands wet before standing on his tiptoes and grabbing the bar of soap so he could lather up.
"Aye," she chuckled, glancing over at him as he washed his hands. It was a bit adorable, seeing him have to stand on his tiptoes like a child (though she had to do the same thing). "I'm not sure what else Galiene is goin' to want to throw in it, but I do know she wanted at least potatoes an' corned beef."
"I'm sure that it'll end up tasty no matter what," he chuckled. Once he had his hands good and soapy, he grabbed the ladle and used it to scoop water out to rinse his hands. Then, drying his hands off, he headed towards the pantry.
Glancing over her shoulder, Baylee said, "It'll be on your right, third shelf up. It's the lump wrapped in brown paper." Her brows then rose slightly as she heard another knock on the kitchen door. "The door's open," she called over. She was expecting Ori or Bifur to poke their head in, but when it turned out to be Rán's face she saw, Baylee was more than a little surprised. "Good morning, Rán," she said with a smile.
"Good morning, Lady Baylee," he said, returning the smile. "I hope I am not intruding."
"Not at all," she assured him. "Do you need somethin'?"
"I was wondering if—" He was cut off as Bofur came out of the pantry carrying something wrapped in brown paper.
"Took me a wee bit t' find it, but I finally got the corned beef!" he grinned, setting it down on the counter. He then paused, his brow rising ever so slightly as he saw Rán in the doorway. "Mornin', Rán. Fancy seein' you up this early," he said with a small chuckle. Inside, however, he felt a bit cautious.
"Likewise, Master Bofur," Rán replied, his voice as casual as always. "As I was about to say, Lady Baylee: I was wondering if I could make myself a bit of tea?" He had done such a few times since coming to the inn—usually on mornings when Bofur slept in a bit.
"O' course; help yourself. The water should be ready by about now," she chirped before looking back down at the potato she was cutting.
Rán stepped into the kitchen and headed over to the shelf of mugs. Unlike Baylee and Bofur, he had no need for the stool; he was tall enough that he could just reach over and grab one. While he walked over to the tea shelf, he glanced at Bofur from the corner of his eye and frowned slightly when he saw the dwarf pulling a knife from the drawer. "…May I ask what are you doing?" he asked, a bit of caution to his voice.
"Helpin' Miss Baylee by cuttin' up this corned beef," Bofur answered. He then looked over at her. "How big would you like the cubes, lass?" He caught a cube of potato as she tossed it over.
"About that big," she replied. Her brow rose as she saw him inspect the cube before popping it into his mouth. "Bofur!" she laughed.
He grinned. "What? That wasn't supposed t' double as a snack?" he joked.
Rán's brow rose ever so slightly as he pulled out a tea strainer. "Potatoes and corned beef…? What sort of dish will they be used in?" Looking back down at the tin of tea, he opened it and started to fill the strainer.
"It's going t' be hash," Baylee answered as she scooped the last cubes into the bowl. Then, grabbing the bucket of fresh water, she filled the bowl until the potatoes were covered by at least an inch of water.
"Hash?"
"Mhm. It's a common dish up here. We usually make it with leftover meat, but only if there's not enough t' go around. We add in vegetables t' stretch it out an' feed more people," she explained, wiping her hands on her apron. "It can also be made with more vegetables other than potatoes. We like t' add in cabbage, but we don't have any at the moment."
"Interesting…I may have to try some then." He looked up, giving her a kind smile. "I have been quite enjoying the different foods Dale has to offer. They are vastly different from what we would eat in Dorwinion."
She glanced over at him, her cheeks growing a touch warm; his smile was very handsome… "I remember you mentionin' that mint is a staple down there. What other sorts o' spices are used?" Using a clean dishtowel, she wiped down the counter; any remaining bits of potato she swept into her hand and dumped in the garbage bucket.
"Oh, plenty. Cardamom, caraway, cinnamon, cloves, cumin, bay leaves, sumac, nutmeg…We also use many of the same herbs that are found up here. Rosemary, thyme, basil, garlic, and tarragon for example." As he spoke, he carried his mug over to the stove, where he used a dishcloth to retrieve the kettle. "Many of them we get from Gondor and North Harad, though some come from the eastern shores of Middle Earth."
"That explains why I haven't heard o' some of them," Baylee said. "Just like I hadn't heard o' chocolate until you told me about it last week."
Still cutting up the corned beef, Bofur glanced at her. "Maybe I'll have to get some for the Tankard then," he grinned. "Dori's got a lot of different spices in his shop as well as chocolate."
"I remember Ori telling me about the chocolate—he says it's really good when it hasn't been sweetened much and is paired with tart fruits and berries."
Rán nodded. "Master Ori would be correct. We call that type of chocolate 'dark' chocolate, since it has little to no sugar. If you were to melt the chocolate, add sugar, and cream, that is how you get hot chocolate." He stirred his tea strainer around in his mug, watching Baylee climb onto the counter in order to reach the mixing bowls. "As I have mentioned, I like to add mint to mine, though my sister prefers to add orange zest to hers. There are even some who like to—"
"Lass, could you toss me a bowl for this beef?" Bofur interjected. "Sorry, Rán." He flashed the ranger a quick, apologetic smile before looking at Baylee as she tossed over a metal bowl. "Thanks, lass," he said, catching the bowl. As he used his hand to sweep the corned beef into the bowl, he glanced back at Rán. "Again, sorry 'bout that. Please, continue."
"I was just going to add that some people enjoy adding red pepper to their hot chocolate," he finished. He kept an eye on Baylee as she grabbed a second, larger bowl before sliding off the counter. "Is there anything else you would like assistance with, Lady Baylee?" he then asked.
Seeing that Bofur's mug and tea strainer sat empty, she set the bowl down in favor of preparing the drink. "Ah, well…unless you'd like t' chop up some nuts for me, I don't think there really is."
"I would be more than happy to do that," he assured her, the handsome smile on his lips once more.
Looking up from filling the mug with hot water, she felt her cheeks grow warm and her gaze quickly returned to the mug. "Al-alright. Let me fetch them for you." Setting the kettle down, she walked towards the pantry, pausing to put Bofur's tea beside him. "Here you go, lad."
A thankful smile came to his lips. "Thanks, lass. I wholly forgot I had meant t' make that." Seeing that Rán had made her cheeks pink, he felt that strange lurch in his stomach again. 'Why do I keep having this weird feeling?' he thought, sweeping more cubes of meat into his bowl. As Rán walked over to the sink to wash his hands, he subtly kept his eye on him. 'Any time that Rán is around Miss Baylee, my stomach gets like this. But why?'
Both males heard the small 'thunk' of the trapdoor coming to rest against the wall as Baylee headed down into the cellar. Frowning slightly, Rán poked his head into the pantry to make sure she wasn't hurt only to find that she had disappeared down the hole. He told himself that everything was alright and stepped away so he could dry his hands.
"Do you often help Lady Baylee in her morning cooking?" he asked Bofur, still keeping his voice casual.
"Not often, no. I always offer, though she usually declines. We usually just chat while I watch her make bread."
He nodded slowly, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his tea. "Conversation with her is quite pleasant. I daresay speaking with her can be more entertaining that speaking with my own men."
"That's because she's a genuine sweetheart," Bofur replied, his brow rising. "An' she's got herself a good sense o' humor."
Rán's brow rose in return. "She is also quite knowledgeable in a few obscure topics." Taking another sip of his tea, he discreetly observed the dwarf. "I am rather surprised a woman such as her does not yet have a husband."
'What is he trying to get at?' Bofur thought. Peeking at him from the corner of his eye, he caught the ranger watching him. "Aye. She'd be a fine catch for someone," he agreed, though there was a bit of wariness in his voice. "But they'd have to be a right special someone t' win her heart."
"They would indeed." The slightest hint of a smirk was hidden behind his mug as he took another drink of tea. "And that someone special may be closer than she realizes."
His brows furrowing, a frown appeared on Bofur's lips; he knew Rán had just subtly issued him a challenge—and it was a challenge for Baylee's heart of all things. But…why him? A lass as pretty and as sweet her would never fall for a simple dwarven toymaker like him.
…Would she?
Ori yawned as he shuffled into the kitchen at the Ri mansion. He had come home for a couple of days to get some more pocket money as well as some different clothes and, as he had promised Baylee, some chocolate. Looking around the room, he was a little surprised to find it lacking Dori's presence—usually, his eldest brother had some sort of tea brewing and a pot of stew or porridge staying warm by the fire. He shrugged and went over to the stove, where he lightly tapped the side of the kettle; he supposed Dori had already left for the shop. Finding it hot, he moved to get himself a mug.
"It's about time you woke up, sleepyhead!"
Yelping in surprise, Ori dropped his cup. Before it could hit the ground, however, the cup landed on the toe of a familiar boot. He picked it back up as he smiled apologetically at his brother. "Sorry. You startled me." Being home, he spoke in Khuzdul—which, after spending so long in Dale, almost felt foreign on his tongue.
Dori's brow rose as he looked at him and he chuckled. "Then I should be the sorry one, lad." He watched as Ori went back to making his tea before moving to get himself a bit of a snack. "So, how did it feel to sleep in your own bed again for the first time in nearly three months?" He disappeared into the pantry for a moment.
Ori's eyes widened and he looked at Dori in shock. "It's already been that long?" he squeaked. "Wow…I didn't even really notice. But…it was a bit nice to be in my own bed again. I didn't have to listen to Bifur's snoring, at least."
"That's always a positive. But be glad his snoring isn't nearly as bad at Bombur's!" As he came out of the pantry, Ori saw that he was holding a large ham.
"I thank Mahal for that every night," he smiled, pouring a bit of cream into his mug before stirring it around with the tea strainer. "Oh, I was wondering if I could take a chocolate bar or two from the shop? Miss Baylee's never had chocolate, so I told her I'd try and get her some."
Dori's brow rose again as he sliced himself some ham. "Now, Ori, you know chocolate is one of the most expensive imports I've got. It's not something I can just part with willy-nilly."
"I know, but she's been taking awful good care of me." Sniffing the tea, he then added just a tiny bit of honey. "She's been taking good care of all of us, actually…Always making sure we've got enough to eat or enough to drink; always checking in to see if we've any need for more bedding…" Inwardly, he grinned. He knew that telling his brother that Baylee was taking care of him so well, it'd appeal to Dori's inner mother hen.
"Is that so…?" he murmured, his voice a bit contemplative. "Well, she is a kind lass…I suppose I can part with two bars of chocolate." He then pointed a stern finger at Ori. "But no more than that! I'll know if you've taken one for yourself as well."
He smiled innocently. "I know better than to try and nick anything from the shop," he assured him. "I have to go to the market this afternoon, so I'll stop by when I'm done there."
"That sounds good." Grabbing a plate, he carefully laid the slices of ham onto it before also cutting himself some cheese. "Have you eaten yet, by the way?" He then shook his head. "What am I saying? Of course you haven't. Would you like me to make you something?"
"No, thank you. I was going to make myself a couple of eggs and sausages before heading out." Seeing the small frown on Dori's lips, he gave him a reassuring smile. "It's fine, Dori. I plan on getting more food while I'm in the market. Especially if Miss Hilde has her bakery open today."
Nodding in understanding, Dori chuckled quietly. "She should—it is Wednesday, after all." He picked up the ham and carried it back into the pantry. "So, other than being hired by Bofur and Bifur to do some painting, what else have you been up to in Dale?" he called.
"Well, I've been doing a lot of drawing." He crouched down, looking for their small frying pan. "And I've helped Miss Baylee and Miss Wenna with a few of their errands in the market. Last week, I helped Miss Baylee and Master Richard gather medicinal flowers." Finding the pan, he carefully pulled it out from underneath a couple of larger pans. "Mostly, though, I've just been exploring the city."
Returning from the pantry with three sausages in hand, he walked over to his little brother, setting the meat on the counter beside him. "Have you been enjoying yourself, at least?" He wore a bit of a stiff smile.
"Thank you for grabbing those." Ori could tell that Dori was trying his hardest to not start bombarding him with other question pertaining to his health and his wellbeing. "Oh, yes—I've been quite enjoying myself! It's so different from Erebor, even though the cities are so close to one another." He flicked one of his braids out of his face as he set the pan over the stove grate. "Oh! I also witnessed a miracle a few weeks ago."
Dori's brows knitted together. "A miracle…? How so?"
A cheeky grin came to his lips. "I saw Bard laughing and smiling."
His eyes widened; Bard was well known for rarely ever smiling, let alone laughing. "Wh-what?! How much did he have to drink?"
"None." Plopping a spoonful of butter into the pan, he watched as it slid across the hot metal as it started to melt. "He brought his children over to the Full Tankard to visit the Braddocks; he's apparently good friends with their family. So much so, his wee ones consider Will and Miss Baylee their aunt and uncle."
"Well, that's good to hear. I was beginning to think that he was just born unable to show signs of happiness." He lightly shook his head, wrapping a piece of ham around a bit of cheese. "Speaking of Bard, though, isn't Fili's meeting with him coming up soon?"
"The week after next, I believe," Ori answered with a small nod. He used a spatula to spread the butter around before setting the sausages around the perimeter of the pan. "I…was actually wondering something about that, to be honest."
Cocking his head as he chewed a bit of his snack, Dori looked at his brother with curiosity.
He cleared his throat. "Well, one of the things they're going to be talking about is sending a merchant caravan down to Laketown. Bofur mentioned that Fili and Dwalin will be going with the caravan, so I was wondering if—"
"If you could go down with them?" There was a knowing look on his face and he sighed when Ori nodded. "If there's one thing these past few weeks have taught me, it's that I can't keep you here within my sight forever, lad," he told him. "So, aye, you can go. Just…just be careful, alright? Balin's told me that there's been some trouble with raiders closer to Laketown of late."
Rolling the sausages over, he nodded again before once more giving him a reassuring smile. "I'll be careful, I promise."
Almost two hours later found Ori taking the final bite of a meat pie as he walked, not through the market, but up a long, winding staircase. He had made this trek many, many times over the last eight years, so the climb wasn't too tiring for him. It led him up through the mountain, where it would then open up to a wide balcony that looked westwards towards Dale; it was tucked so far out of the way, barely anyone knew of its existence. In fact, he was fairly certain only four people knew about it: Thorin, Dis, himself, and—
"Dwalin!"
As he stepped onto the landing, he watched the larger dwarf turn around, a mixture of surprise and joy on his face. "There you are, love!" A broad grin came to his lips when he saw Ori hurrying over to him and he scooped the smaller dwarf up into his arms only to kiss him deeply. A moment later, he leaned back, a goofy grin on his lips. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."
His brow rising, Ori laughed. "Now why wouldn't I show up to a meeting I arranged?" he teased. He kissed Dwalin a second time, his arms wrapping around his neck. "Aulë's beard, I've missed you," he murmured. Nuzzling his cheek with his nose, he sighed in content; one of his favorite spots to be was wrapped up in Dwalin's arms like this.
"I've missed you, too." He rested his forehead against Ori's, a surprisingly tender smile on his lips. "Damn the fact that I've been so busy lately…Arranging things for Fili's trip the week after next has been surprisingly taxing."
"I bet. He's the crown prince, after all. I'm sure Thorin and Dis want to make sure he stays as safe as possible."
"Bah—Fili's as good a fighter as any of us," he scoffed. "He doesn't need bodyguards to keep him safe." Stealing a third kiss, he finally set Ori back down on the ground. "I've heard you've been having quite the holiday over in Dale."
His cheeks turned a bit pink and he smiled sheepishly. "Yes, I have…I still can't believe that I managed to convince Dori to let me stay behind." Shaking his head, he chuckled and walked over to the railing so he could look out at the lands to the west of Erebor.
"To be honest, when Nori first told me that he had allowed it, I thought he was trying to pull my leg." Walking up behind him, he wrapped his arms around Ori and buried his face in the crook of his neck. "But it's good for you, not being under Dori's watch all of the time. You're very much a grown dwarrow—you don't need all that mothering."
Relaxing against him, he let out a sigh of content. "Even if it meant I was further away from you," he murmured. He turned his head, nuzzling the side of Dwalin's face. "How long will you and Fili be staying in Dale?"
"About five days. Then we'll go home for another two days to gather up our traveling supplies. On the third day, we'll leave early with the dwarven merchants and meet up with the humans at Dale's southern gates."
"Humans and dwarf," he corrected.
Dwalin's brow rose and he looked at him curiously. "What do you mean by that?"
A cheeky grin came to his lips. "Dori said I can go down to Laketown with you all."
His eyes widened and a broad grin spread across his lips once more. "Are you serious?! How did you convince him to allow that?"
"I didn't need to convince him at all, actually. I just…I just asked and he said so long as I promise to be careful, I could go." He laughed as Dwalin nuzzled his cheek, his coarse beard tickling his skin.
"Means I'll get to steal plenty of alone time with you," he murmured, his tone mischievous.
Biting his lower lip, Ori glanced up at him. "But…isn't Nori going on the trip, too?"
"No. He's been given an assignment from Thorin that he has to work on."
"Oh, yes…he mentioned that. He also said that it was top secret, so he couldn't tell me what it was." A coy grin came to his lips. "But maybe you could tell me…?" he asked sweetly.
"Mmm…even if I did know what his mission was, you know I wouldn't be able to tell you, love." He chuckled as a pout came to his lover's lips. "Don't pout like that, love. You know as well as I that the only other person who knows what your brother's tasks are is Thorin himself."
Ori left out a defeated sigh. "I suppose you're right…after all, he's a spymaster. If everyone knew what he was up to, then he wouldn't be a very good one." Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back to rest against Dwalin's shoulder, a smile on his lips as he felt the larger dwarf bring him closer to him.
Dwalin quietly chuckled, his eyes closing as well. The pair stood in silence for many minutes, simply enjoying the other's presence. It wasn't often they could steal moments like this, especially with how watchful Dori—and, to a lesser and less observed extent, Nori—could be. Though couples consisting of two males or two females were accepted as perfectly normal among dwarrowkind, Dwalin and Ori were still a bit hesitant to make their courtship known to their friends and families due to their age differences. Having turned one hundred just that year, Ori was a good fifty years younger than Dwalin.
A soft chuckle left his mouth, making Dwalin's brow rise. "What's got you laughing, hmm?" he murmured.
"I'm just thinking back to a few years ago," Ori answered, voice just as quiet. "To when I was trying my damnedest to win you over."
Rolling his eyes, he snorted. "You didn't need to win me over and you know it."
"Well, you certainly made me work hard to get you to realize I was serious about wanting to be with you." He lightly shook his head and quietly laughed again. "Three years it took me to get you to understand that I was truly in love with you and that it wasn't a simple crush on my idol."
"To be fair, love, I needed to be sure—especially when it came to potentially stirring up Dori's wrath." He knew well enough that, despite Dori's relatively calm and easy-going exterior, the dwarf could have quite the temper. Combined with his enormous amount of strength, Dori was very much not a person Dwalin wanted to get upset. "And…there was also the fact that I couldn't believe that someone like you could fall for a brute like me."
A pout came to his lips and he opened his eyes to look up at him. "You're not a brute. You may look like a brute at times, but you're a gentledwarrow of surprising sophistication."
Dwalin let out a hearty laugh. "A gentledwarrow of surprising sophistication?" he repeated, his brow rising. "That's the first time I've been called either a gentledwarrow or sophisticated. Even my own brother says I'm a ruffian with no manners!"
"Well, I'm sorry, but I have yet to meet any other dwarrow who can create as intricate and delicate tattoo designs as you. Nor have I met any other dwarrow who's so picky when it comes to choosing what furs are going to be used to make his clothes…" A playful grin came to his lips as he turned his gaze out to the fields once more. "You're just a different sort of sophisticated."
"I'll take your word for it, then." He buried his face in the crook of Ori's neck again, sighing in content. "I hear Bofur and Bifur bought a shop and have hired a human lad to help them."
"You heard correct. Will's a really nice person and gets along extremely well with them."
"You know the lad's name?"
"Mhm. He's the son of the Full Tankard's innkeeper. Him and his daughter, Baylee, have also become good friends to us."
A small smile came to Dwalin's lips. "Is that so? Well, I'm glad to hear that you're making new friends." He knew Ori had a bit of a hard time meeting new people thanks to his shyness, so to hear that he had made three new friends was refreshing. "Nori mentioned that the inn lives up to its name."
"Oh, does it ever! And what's even better is that they have the good stuff." A cheeky grin came to his lips. "Not to mention, their food is really good, too. Of course, it's nothing compared to Gerdi's cooking, but only Yavanna herself could produce better food than Gerdi." He watched as a pale speck moved across the fields. 'I wonder if that's Baylee out for a ride?' he thought.
"Right you are about that…There's a reason she's the royal kitchen mistress." Looking down, he kissed the top of Ori's head. "Though, I did hear Fili and Thorin raving about some sort of fruit bread Bofur brought back with him from that inn."
"Is that so? I know Bofur said the two of them enjoyed it, but he didn't say they were raving about it." He chuckled and lightly shook his head. "How has Fili been, by the way? Is he at all nervous about his upcoming trip?"
"He's well. He's been thinking about looking for a craftsman to commission a new leg from. Doesn't seem too nervous about his trip, though, which is good. If anything, he seems more excited than anything." He took a step back from his lover, his hands moving to start combing through his hair.
A pleased hum left his throat as he felt the fingers in his hair. "It has been a number of years since he got that prosthetic. I'm surprised he didn't get a new one sooner…" He then chuckled. "I wonder if Will knows how to make fake limbs…? He's an excellent woodworker; he might be able to help."
Gathering up a small section of his hair, Dwalin further sectioned it out so he could begin braiding. "That's if he wants it made of wood. He's not really sure what kind of material he'd like his new leg to be made out of."
"Understandable. I would say he should go with metal, but I can only imagine how heavy that would get after a time. At least with the wood, it's not too heavy."
"Kili suggested he get one made of glass. Apparently, there's a smith here who can make glass as strong as steel."
Ori's brow rose and he glanced over his shoulder at him only to have Dwalin gently force him to look ahead once more. "You're joking, right? Glass is fragile. It'd shatter the moment he bumped into a corner."
"I'm not joking," he chuckled. "But, being that it's so hard to do, it's also extremely expensive. I'm not sure what all goes into it, but it's a lot of ingredients from the Red and Yellow Mountains."
"I don't think Fili's the type who'd want a glass leg, anyway. Kili wanting a glass eye, on the other hand…"
Dwalin grinned, his brow rising somewhat. "He's actually commissioned a prosthetic eye recently," he explained. "But it's not glass."
He tried to look over his shoulder again. "Don't tell me it's silver."
"Nope."
"Gold?"
"Guess again."
Ori was quiet for a long moment as he thought over different materials that could be used for such a thing. Gold, silver, and glass had already been ruled out, so he started thinking about other metals. Copper would turn the area green, as would brass and bronze. Mithril was most definitely out of the question, as it was so rare and lead would be much too soft. Wood could work, though he would imagine the wood may begin to rot after a few years…
"Alright, I give up. What's it going to be made out of?"
"Most of it is going to be onyx, but for the iris and pupil, it's going to be a fire opal." He snickered as he heard Ori let out an exasperated sigh.
"Of course, it would be Kili who went with such dramatic flair for his prosthetic."
Dwalin shrugged, though he knew his lover couldn't see it. "You have to admit, though: It's going to look really interesting. Especially with his dark hair."
"I just hope poor Tauriel doesn't get startled by it every time she sees it. As interesting a combination as those two stones are, it's going to be unnerving to see for a while."
"Luckily, he won't be wearing it all the time—just like Fili doesn't always wear his leg."
He frowned. "Wait, you mean he'll be able to remove it whenever he wants?"
"Yes? Did you not know that, love?" Leaning over, he watched as Ori's cheeks turned a dark shade of red.
"I…thought fake eyes stayed in permanently," he mumbled, clearly embarrassed. A small pout came to his lips as Dwalin kissed his cheek.
"A common misconception, love," he assured him. "Kili thought the same."
Though he didn't quite believe him, Ori nodded slowly. "At least I wasn't the only one, then…"