Note: Ohhhh geez I've been forgetting to update this here as well. Merry Tuesday, y'all get 4 chapters

Riding a pony had not been the most unpleasant thing Bilbo had ever done. It was fairly near the most undignified, but at least no one from Hobbiton was around to see him. He clung to the sides of Bofur's jacket as the six of them made their way east and then north around the Old Forest. It was the long way around, but with the pace they were making, they should be able to arrive by nightfall and meet the rest of this mysterious Company the others kept talking around (never about).

Only Dwalin was forthcoming on this point, and then not particularly much. He spoke of a noble quest and a letter from his brother Balin among other things. From what Bilbo could glean, there would be thirteen of them in total (an unlucky number), plus some kind of wizard called 'Tharkûn' who would be aiding them. It all sounded a bit like a fireside tale, but Dwalin didn't seem the sort to put stock in fiction.

Frodo, however, was having the time of his life. He alternated between the ponies during stops as their riders would have him. Only once could he not have the mount of his choice, and that was when Bifur was having some sort of headache and they all let him be for a spell. Frodo rode happily and without complaint. Bilbo, on the other hand, was beside himself.

He tried to stay in the moment and listen to the things Bofur and the others were saying but he kept drifting. They would arrive in Bree soon enough, and after an evening, he'd have to try and hunt down a Ranger to explain his predicament to. He'd have to arrange travel back to Buckland and see if… and see about… Bilbo truly did not want to think about it. He wished more than ever that this hadn't happened, least of all not to Frodo, and that everything would be alright. Logically, he knew there was a chance everything would be just fine and that his panic could be for naught.

Bilbo shuddered every time he thought of that dark water. They'd not seen the Withywindle at all this far east, only the roll of the hills and the flat of the Greenway as they worked their way more north than east. His companions had the good sense to avoid the Barrow Downs entirely. But the foggy hills had him shivering anew. Like he had told Frodo, there were many strange things out in the world. As curious as he was about some of them, others were best left alone.

It was only a matter of time before Frodo started to tire. They'd taken a short rest to try and see if it was travel weariness, but Bilbo could see his nephew was exhausted. With Bombur's help, he fashioned a sort of sling out of a blanket and his cardigan so Frodo could sleep on his back as they rode. The rocking motion of the pony soothed Frodo to sleep, and Bilbo was hard-pressed to stay awake himself. He tried counting the varieties of flower on either side of the road, but to little avail.

This trip to Bree and Buckland and back to Bree had not been kind to him. Frodo's sling dug into his good shoulder and he couldn't move it to the other one. Bilbo was sure he'd looked a state when the dwarves fished him out of the river, and he must look worse now. Hopefully all the Breeland Hobbits would have retired respectably to their beds by the time they arrived. He once again thanked his lucky stars he hadn't had such an incident in Hobbiton.

The hour was late when they finally spotted the walls of Bree. Torches blazed at the watch stations, and a handful of flags flew in the breeze. Bree, for all the Big Folk around, was at least safe. There were walls and buildings and hearths within that could repel the troubles without. Had it not been for the distance and the incident on his way back, Bilbo would have described his first trip to Bree as having been enjoyable and educational. At the very least, neither trip had been dull.

Dwalin headed the party as they approached the west gate from the Greenway. There was a guard posted, and they all stopped well enough away as bidden.

"Ho, travelers. What business have you in Bree at this hour?" The words were likely the script of ordinance but they comforted Bilbo. The man's face was not stern, nor did his voice sound suspicious. A guard doing his duty, protecting the good folk inside.

In turn Dwalin answered. "I am Dwalin, son of Fundin, traveling with my companions to meet some of my kin here. Know you if Oin, son of Groin, has arrived before us?"

Bilbo could see the guard's smile in the torchlight and he decided he was glad they had met this particular Man that night. "Indeed! His company arrived ereyesterday with a few others, and I believe another son of Fundin arrived when last I was on watch. They are all staying at the Inn of the Prancing Pony. It is straight up this road," he pointed up the cobblestone street, "past a smaller gate up on the north hill of the city. If it grows too dark, other guards will be making their rounds and can point out the way."

"My thanks, sir." Dwalin grunted politely. "Let's go and join them."

The ponies began the single-file march through the gate, with Dwalin at the head and Bilbo and Bofur bringing up the rear. As they passed, the guard finally caught sight of the hobbits and bid Bofur halt a moment.

"I do not wish to cause you delay, but I knew not that Halflings were in your party."

"Aye!" Bofur said cheerily enough. "They're joining us for this leg o' the journey." As Bilbo's mouth had not yet opened he continued, "I don't speak for their plans, but I think they mean to see kin as well."

Finally, Bilbo found his voice. "Yes, yes, he's quite right. But not this evening, goodness no, it's been a full day of travel and we are quite exhausted." The top of Frodo's curly head was no-doubt visible over Bilbo's shoulder and the guard regarded them with a smile.

"Of course, sirs. Perhaps ol' Rob will be up at the Pony, he'll know better than anyone else where the Halflings of Bree are to be found."

Bilbo appreciated the man's assistance more than his tired mind could express at the moment. "Thank you, sir. I shall look for him. I wish you a very pleasant evening."

Safely inside the walls of Bree, Bilbo nearly fell asleep atop dear Betina despite the noise of her hooves on the cobbles. He was fighting to keep awake at least to see to their accommodations. Last time he was in Bree he had stayed elsewhere, but the Prancing Pony had a very good reputation. If it was good enough for Dwalin's great quest, it would be good enough for him. The fact that there were other Hobbits to be found here put his mind at ease. Bree-land and Bree-town were much different, and he would be glad for some familiarity.

The Prancing Pony itself was a large structure of wood and stone with a sign that bore its namesake. It was rather reminiscent of Bifur's steed, and Bilbo supposed he could ask Frodo about all their mounts' names in the morning. Dwalin led the group and their ponies to the Inn's stables. Bofur had cottoned on to Bilbo's exhaustion and helped him and Frodo out of the saddle. Frodo stirred slightly at the change in elevation but otherwise stayed asleep.

"Didn't make bad time." Dwalin commented. "Bilbo, we'll make introductions quick and you can turn in. The rest of us will have business to discuss."

Bilbo wasn't sure if that was a polite way to excuse him or an order to stay up later than he'd planned, but he wasn't about to argue yet. The Dwarves had been more than kind to them. Bilbo had no compunctions doing as they asked in this. In fact, for all the good they'd done him so far he was unlikely to question much of anything. They would have to part ways soon enough, and Bilbo preferred to do it on the most agreeable terms possible. It wasn't as if they'd think of him much, really, after they departed. Still as a respectable hobbit he liked to make a good impression on guests and strangers. He shifted Frodo's sling to the front and followed behind Dwalin into the Inn.

The tavern portion of the Prancing Pony was something like the Green Dragon, in Bilbo's mind. There were the usual furnishings, a keg or two, carpet in some places and wood floor in others— It was the atmosphere that was different. After dark, the Pony was a less cheery place than the Dragon. A few Men were seated at tables, some in groups but most alone. There was little talk, and the conversations that did reach his ears sounded low and somber.

In stark contrast to everything else in view, the barman marked their entrance with a wide grin. "Good evening, sirs! Welcome to the Prancing Pony. You wouldn't happen to be with Master Balin's party, would you?"

"Balin's here already!" Dwalin grunted, sounding more pleased than he'd been at the gate. Louder, he replied to the barman. "That we are. We'll need beds for four more, and Halfling accommodations if you've got them."

The barman, like the guard before him, hadn't noticed Bilbo and Frodo until now. His eyebrows rose. "Of course! We've got fine rooms for Hobbit-folk." He turned his head and called back towards what could be the kitchen. "Rob! Could you come up here a moment?"

The barman introduced himself as Barney Butterbur and made the transaction with Dwalin. Frodo was still fast asleep, and for that Bilbo was grateful. He would love to answer his nephew's questions, just not when he was so tired he could barely keep his feet. Luckily, another pair of properly-sized feet rounded the corner from the bar to help them.

"Goodness me!" A hobbit, Rob presumably, hurried up to the group, "Let me take some of those bags, sirs! You've got your hands full-" he lowered his voice quickly, "-I can see that. Follow me to the rooms. We've got you down next to the rest of your party; they said they'd been expecting you but weren't sure how many would come now."

Bilbo bowed as a quick thanks and followed Rob. Whispered introductions were made as they journeyed through the ridiculously large hallways. In between looming doorways, Bilbo found out Rob was some kind of Took and they were able to make hushed small-talk about the superior breads of Tuckborough.

"There's a whole host of Grubbs here, for a great big birthday in Staddle I think. We'll have to set up a cot for you with your traveling companions, if you don't mind?" When Bilbo agreed he nodded. "Else, they're all mid-sized beds in your room. Will you be needing something rigged up separate for the faunt?"

"Oh, no, I'm sure he'd find his way to me in the middle of the night regardless." Bilbo ran a hand through Frodo's curls. "It's been… it's been a difficult day."

Politely Rob said nothing more on the subject. "Well, here you all are. Should you be needing anything, come find me. I've got Cousin Dob taking over for me in the morning. He'll take care of you too."

There were four beds already in the room, and Rob was quick to retrieve a cot from a nearby closet. It folded out to a decent size and with the addition of a pad appeared awfully near to a real bed. It was more than agreeable after the day he'd had. After the day they'd both had.

Bifur tossed his pack on the ground near the door and eyed the cot. He caught Bilbo's eye and started to speak, pointing first to the cot, then to one of the beds, then to himself, then back to the cot. Bilbo took the meaning quite plainly even with the language barrier.

"Dear me, Master Bifur, I couldn't possibly. You have been on the road so much longer than I and, well, frankly the bed is much too tall. I couldn't manage it! I'd have to climb in and out… Really, it's for the best." He bumbled his way through the excuses. Truly, Bilbo would love little more than to sleep in the real bed. It looked far more comfortable, even for something that size. But the Dwarves had done so much for them already. No, he was accustomed to a certain level of comfort but he was a gentlehobbit to the last. He could no more deny Bifur his bed than he could deny houseguests tea.

Bilbo looked back and forth between Bifur and Bofur, who was peering over with a question in his gaze. "You must all have your rest." he said after a moment, "You have done so much for us already. Frodo and I will sleep just as well as we do at home. Better, perhaps, after such a day of travel."

He could barely stand to think of his own bed anyway. His own empty smial… It might be emptier than ever after yesterday. No, he really did not want to think about that.

Bifur gave him a warm smile and had a quick conversation with Bofur. After a moment, his cousin addressed Bilbo. "Well, you've talked him down on this one, Bilbo. But, Bif's for settling in, if you'd like someone to watch the lad while you meet the others…?"

Bilbo deflated slightly with relief. "That would be wonderful, Master Bifur, thank you. I won't be long. I will make my introductions, of course, but I'm sure we won't linger…" He went about settling Frodo on the cot and resolved to be no more than ten more minutes on his feet. It had been an exhausting day, more draining than any he'd had in a long time. One everything was arranged, Bilbo followed Dwalin, Bofur, and Bombur out into the hall-

-only to be set upon just outside the door.

"Dwalin! It's been an age, it has! We've been waiting for you for days!"

A young, boisterous dwarf was blocking their path and grinning up at Dwalin. He had dark hair and a shorter beard than Bilbo had ever seen on a Dwarf. The lack of facial hair did nothing to diminish his energy, and Bilbo suddenly worried for Frodo's slumber.

"Kili." Dwalin grunted. "Don't give me that. You only just got here." If Bilbo didn't know better, he'd say the burly dwarf seemed more amused than actually irritated. "Now where's my good for nothing brother, and why didn't he meet us?"

The young dwarf, Kili, tut-tutted and had to dodge a swat. "He's been strictly business this whole time while we're waiting for Uncle. Hasn't said a word that wasn't about planning-"

Bilbo wasn't quite sure what it was about bigger folk and not being able to see him, but for the first time in the whole conversation, Kili noticed his presence. His eyes widened just a little before his face split into a grin.

"Dwalin! You didn't tell me you'd picked up a hobbit!" He made a quick bow. "Kili, at your service, Master Hobbit."

"Ah." Bilbo found himself wilting slightly under the enthusiasm. "Er- Bilbo Baggins, it's a pleasure to meet you, Master Kili." He straightened his waistcoat and tried to appear more respectable than he felt. It was one thing to look ruffled around the people who fished you out of the river. It was quite another thing to look less than presentable before strangers. Oddly enough, the motion only sparked a gleam in Kili's eye that Bilbo couldn't quite wrap his head around in the moment. He was struck by a wave of caution, the kind one used when navigating mischievous faunts.

Dwalin elbowed the lad lightly. "Don't crowd him, Kili. We're going to meet the others. I take it Balin's there, and Fili?"

Kili nodded. "Yes, yes. They've been talking all evening with Oin and Gloin. They arrived yesterday with an old friend of yours, I believe… Nori, Dori, and Ori have joined us for the night."

Dwalin's brow furrowed at the mention of these last dwarves but said nothing. Bilbo glanced over at Bofur and Bombur but their expressions weren't illuminating either. Kili chattered on down the hall and filled Dwalin in on the latest. Bilbo was nearly dead on his feet and didn't take much notice. All he could really appreciate in the moment was how nice some of the carpets were. Very fine work.

The party re-entered the tavern portion of the Pony. Nothing had changed in the meantime. The atmosphere was still dreary, but at least a fire was roaring on one side of the room. Kili was leading them towards the back of the main room, to a side parlor of sorts. 'Parlor' was a very nice and respectable word for the seating area by one of the side doors. It backed up to the fireplace wall on one side, and was fenced in by the hall out to the door. There were several footstools and a bench, and on these sat several dwarves. And each of them were giving poor Rob an earful.

"A beer for me, and seed cake if you have any."

"An ale, a porter, and a coffee for us. More cakes, any sort."

"Scones all around!"

Poor Rob was muttering something about a whole jug of coffee, and Bilbo was struck by the great variety of facial hair before him. He'd supposed it was to do with Dwarvish custom or tradition, but he hadn't expected such a range! With the addition of his companions there were beards of all colors and all styles, hair on their heads or no hair or some with styles that would make jaws drop in Hobbiton. Beads and braids adorned most of them in some manner, and while some held similar elements no two styles were exactly alike.

Dwalin brushed past the retreating Rob to knock heads with an older dwarf. This one's beard was white and gleaming in the light of a wall sconce. The rest of the party stood at their arrival. It looked like introductions were to be made all around.

"Balin." Dwalin said to the old dwarf, his brother Bilbo assumed. "It is good to see you again."

"It does me good to see you as well, brother." Balin replied. He eyed the rest of the group and his gaze lingered noticeably on Bilbo. Perhaps he was not wholly unnoteworthy. "You've come a long way."

"Aye." Dwalin's reply was more gruff than Bilbo expected. "But we're here. I take it we're the last to arrive?"

"Next to last." Another young dwarf spoke up. Bilbo's head tilted slightly as he pondered this one. Though different in coloring, he looked remarkably like Kili. Cousins, perhaps? No, Kili immediately gravitated closer and a nonverbal conversation happened right before Bilbo's eyes. It was a quick exchange he might've missed had he not been looking. With little more than their eyebrows, Kili managed to signal some sort of mischief was afoot, which was met with the resounding disapproval of the other dwarf. These were brothers if Bilbo was inclined to make any bets. And the blond one older no doubt!

The conversation had moved right along without him. Bofur and Bombur had stepped forward and made their introductions to the others. A light of recognition sparked in Balin's eyes when they mentioned Bifur, and of course the reason for their cousin's absence brought him back to Bilbo.

"Ah, yes." He started, trying to bottle his nerves. "Bilbo Baggins, ah, at your service." He executed a quick bow and was rewarded with a bow in kind.

"Balin, son of Fundin, at yours and your family's." There was a knowing look in his eye as Balin studied Bilbo. "I know there are hobbits in Bree, Master Baggins, but your arrival begs a story."

"Yes, Master Boggins, do tell!" Kili's grin might've been endearing at an earlier hour on a shorter day. Bilbo was very tired, and this was a story he did not want to tell. The other dwarves realized this, to an extent. Bofur and Bombur were giving the rest warning looks.

Another old dwarf with an ear trumpet stepped forward before any more mischief could spark. "Oin, son of Groin at your service. What's your name, lad, speak up?"

Bilbo had to repeat himself and ultimately opened up the door to introductions from Oin's brother Gloin, another set of brothers called Dori, Nori, and Ori, and lastly to Kili's brother Fili. He'd been right about the relation and Bilbo felt a little proud of himself.

"So, Master Baggins, what brings you to Bree in my brother's company?" Balin gestured to one of the empty footstools and Bilbo was relieved to have a seat. It would be easier to keep his posture seated, exhausted as he was. Ever the storyteller, he should be able to manage something to satiate the dwarves' curiosity. He so loved entertaining guests in his smial, and it pained him anew to be far from kith and kin. It would be a short tale.

The rest of them sat and leaned forward with curious attention. Faces flickered warmly in the light of the wall sconce, and oddly Bilbo felt a sense of ease. They knew naught about him save what his rescuers knew. No doubt they would jump in if they were needed, gallant as they had been so far. The rest were a set of new ears.

"I'm afraid it isn't much of a tale, really." Bilbo began somewhat nervously. "I was on… on a picnic with my cousins in Buckland. They were- and their son Frodo, who is with me. My nephew, we call him and... We had- well, there was no warning really. It was a lovely spring day without any rain. The marsh marigolds were lovely… And hardly… hardly a cloud in the sky…" He had already bungled the introduction, but it was getting even more difficult. This was the part he did not want to tell, the part he would prefer not to think about. He'd worried about it, of course. Worrying didn't make it better, nor did it make his terror less real. The unease had only grown throughout the day. As much as he had tried to ignore it, it was there. Ever-present and stalking his steps.

Bilbo swallowed and collected himself. Bofur placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and for that he was grateful. "The Brandywine River… rose. It rose quickly and Frodo and I had to get into the boat." The story was falling apart on him. "Drogo and Primula escaped into a tree, but after that, I don't know. I don't truly know what became of them, or what happened before we were rescued…"

The words seemed impossible now. It was a rather poor story from the outside. Bilbo had left holes and room for far too many questions. Still, he had to tie it up somehow. Change the subject, get the eyes off of him and onto someone else. It had been a valuable party trick when he wanted to slip away, and now he would need to use it once more.

"It was... quite a daring rescue, so I hear. Dwalin, Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur fished us from the river and kept us from harm. If they had not been riding by making for the Ford when they did, we may have ended up anywhere. Maybe even Minhiriath, perish the thought!"

It wasn't the smoothest of diversions, but it got Bofur telling his end of the story. More smoothly than Bilbo might've given him credit for, he wove the tale of a perilous rescue and conversations with a curious faunt. The other dwarves were distracted enough, except for Dwalin and Balin. To Bilbo's surprise, they were eyeing him rather than tracking Bofur's account. Dwalin said something softly, and Balin nodded. They were considering something.

Bofur was recounting Bilbo's daring- but rather muddled- escape for the river when the side door creaked open. Twelve heads swiveled towards the motion. A Man was standing in the doorway, his eyebrows climbing as his eyes flicked across the room. He was carrying a rucksack over one shoulder and looked very much as if he'd expected this entrance to be deserted. But his arrival banished Bilbo's exhaustion in an instant.

"A Ranger!" he cried, delighted, "Do come in, sir, if I might bother you for just a moment. Are you headed towards the Shire?"

He did not appear pleased at being put on the spot. But, the Ranger didn't turn and leave. With almost a begrudging expression he shut the door behind him. He looked as if he had been on the road, and Bilbo could only hope his path turned towards the Shire and not to the north. The Rangers were a taciturn bunch and reclusive. What they got up to back home- or where back home was for that matter- was as much a mystery to him as the homes and crafts of the elves. Still, this man and his kin were appreciated in the Shire and more so by Bilbo who was far from it.

With what sounded suspiciously like a sigh, he addressed Bilbo. "Nay, Master Hobbit, not at present. I have just come from Buckland. There was a terrible flood, and they have need of my kinsmen's aid. We are assisting in the… search… for the missing…" He realized belatedly the faces around him grew more somber. The atmosphere was quickly becoming uncomfortable, and to him context did not seem forthcoming.

Luckily, not all present were blessed with incredible tact. "Your family, Mister Boggins! That's where they are!" Kili realized, before his brother elbowed him sharply.

"Kili!"

The Ranger's frown deepened as he mouthed 'Boggins?' to himself. Bilbo spoke over his hammering heart, recapturing the man's attention before he would become too irritated to stay.

"Baggins, Bilbo Baggins, sir. I am afraid I can be counted among the missing of Buckland. I have come a long way to Bree, with my cousin Frodo. It is his parents we were separated from, and we know not what became of them."

The Ranger's face only darkened before something changed in his eyes. "Baggins… Ah. I did hear of your kin, ere I left. I… I am afraid they may have been mentioned among the… recovered… Two are missing among their own still, you and your cousin I assume. But we recovered a drowned pair, a mother and a father south of Brandy Hall-"

"No…" Bilbo felt— he didn't know how to feel. Burning, but so very cold. Alight with fear, disbelief, anger even, yet icy with dread. He was deaf to all but his heart's pounding, and numb to all but the frigid flame overtaking him. Bilbo hardly registered standing.

"I am truly sorry, Master B-"

"Excuse me." Bilbo had never been so rude in all his life, and yet manners were the furthest thing from his mind. He pushed past the Ranger to the door and hardly felt it when the cold air hit him.