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So, for the purposes of my story, I've taken some creative liberties with Dwarven culture. It is purely for the benefit of my storytelling, and not in any way an attempt to rewrite Tolkein's work. I imagined that their culture was more like medieval Britain, than the Vikings in regard to unequal gender rules. It made sense to me that, the reason Dwarrowdams are so precious, is because there are fewer of them.

I own nothing but Rosalyn and my original storyline for her. The Hobbit and LOTR are works belonging to Tolkien and his estate. All creative output by Peter Jackson, Philippa Boyens and Fran Walsh, and their interpretation belong to them and all the relevant parties.

Updated (edited) 12/11/21

Chapter 9

After Balin had settled the matter of the ponies, there was an audible relief from the rest of the Dwarves; another pony would be ready to join us in the morning. As it turned out, they had journeyed to Hobbiton separately, hence their staggered arrival times to Bag End. Each Dwarf had not known what preparations had been made for them in Bree, as each one had assumed someone else had made preparations. Luckily, Thorin and Balin had sent messages ahead to procure the animals and provisions. Though, there was a short discussion about buying more ponies for load carrying. The issue raised was that the animals would tire quicker if they carried larger loads. The opposing argument to this was whether or not the company could afford to purchase more ponies.

Thorin sent us off to buy provisions in town before I heard the decision. Although, the overwhelming feeling was that the company could not afford to purchase more ponies. Thorin and Balin stayed behind to converse with the pub landlord for a few rooms for the night, urging the rest of us out into the streets. Gandalf and Thorin had decided we should rest for the night and begin early the next morning. Their choice was met with very little resistance. In fact, many of the Dwarves were relieved to spend another night beneath a roof, rather than 'roughing it', as Bofur explained to me.

Meanwhile, Gandalf left without a sound. Off to do whatever it was Wizards do in a town, I imagined.

Bilbo and I led the way into town, arm in arm, enjoying the sights and smells while he showed the Dwarves several shops. Ori perked up at the sight of a book binders and scuttled over with Dori fussing behind him.

"Before we do anything, we need to buy you some shoes, lass," Nori said, to the agreement of the rest.

"There's a cobblers shop on the main road that should suit our goal," Bilbo informed us all.

Wide-eyed, I watched as a group of ladies strolled down the street, all towering above us. The rest of Bilbo's instructions lost as I listened to their chatter. Their voices were pleasant, and as I listened I learned they were discussing the butcher's son and his talent for wood carving. Not unlike the topics of conversation I'd heard in Hobbiton.

Bilbo tapped my arm.

"What was that, Bilbo?"

He laughed at me, not seeming to find I'd not listened to him.

"Follow me," he chuckled. "You don't want to get lost here."

I took his words to heart and moved to his side, grabbing hold of his wrist as a large cart came towards us. There was a Man steering it, but the giant wheels wobbled and it looked only a moment away from running out of his control. A tug on my elbow brought my attention back to where I was walking. I had been veering off to the far side of the street towards a group of Men chatting. Bilbo's lips were thin when I looked up at him sheepishly.

"A tour," he announced with a wry grin, much to my embarrassment. "Before we loose you to your wandering eyes."

The Dwarves chuckled and grouped into a huddle around us. I wasn't sure it was that funny, but they seemed to think so.

"If it's good enough for Rosie, it's good enough for us!" Kíli exclaimed.

Bilbo ignored their chortling, pointing at various shopfronts as we passed them. He seemed to be ignoring our company and their hemming and hawing at everything around us. I wondered if they would be this way the entire way to Erebor. I hoped not. Judging by the tense set of Bilbo's jaw, he wouldn't survive much more of this.

"The drapery, the bakery, a very fine apothecary," he listed as we walked, sounding like he had when he'd first shown me the market at Hobbiton.

Bombur tool particular interest in the bakery, sniffing the air and licking his lips. He muttered something about inspecting the wares before trotting away, following his nose. Bofur laughed at his brother and called out the he shouldn't spend all of his money on bread.

To which Bombur replied: "I won't. They've got pastries too!"

He vanished into the clutches of the shop, his hair bright amongst the dun haired Men and Women waiting in line.

We carried on until Bilbo brought us to a halt.

"Here we are, the cobblers."

The shop front had buckled under the weight of the above floors, creasing with furrows not unlike Gandalf's wisened brow. Beneath the fallen timber fronting, glass windows glinted in the sun.

Our expedition into the shop took far longer than I had imagined. First, the Dwarves argued over what sort of shoe would suit me best for our travels. It had been a toss up between a sturdy boot and shoes that would allow my ankle to move with more dexterity. According to them, our path would be over many different terrains, flat, rocky, wet. Then, they were concerned over the material the cobbler offered them to examine. Finally, after shooing most of the Dwarves outside to wait, Bilbo found a pair of brown leather boots lined with grey fur intended for a child. The cobbler, a man of advancing years with brown teeth from smoking and a chesty cough to match, explained he could mould the boots for my feet in a few hours. When Dwalin had produced a pouch of coins, the cobbler had taken the boots and begun the work immediately.

Now, I wiggled my toes, which were at last free of the boots, and bit my lip.

"I'm sorry, Bilbo," I apologised for the third time. "They feel strange, I can't explain it any better than that."

I'd put the boots on and Dwalin had taken it upon himself to check they fit me correctly, pressing the toes for my own, and watching me walk in the shoes the length and breadth of the shop. With each step, I knew the shoes would fit my needs, but they had felt wrong. Confining, restricting, an alien texture on my soles and around my ankle. Even with the added barrier of the socks Bofur had produced from his pocket —"Just in case," he'd quipped when I'd asked why he'd had them to hand — the shoes had not favoured themselves to me and I'd taken them off as soon as Bilbo had turned to pay the cobbler.

"You have the feet of a Dwarf and yet you prefer to run about shoeless like a Hobbit?" Bilbo shook his head, a fond smile on his face. "Why did I expect anything less?"

"I am sorry, Bilbo, truly. Thank you, I will wear them, I promise."

He waved a hand, brushing away my words.

"Don't be sorry, dear," he assured me. "Think of them as an investment. But you will have to wear them for the time being. It might be best to get used to them now, in town."

Sighing, I tugged them back on and laced them up, ignoring the strange texture.

"I know," I replied. "Don't worry I'm not going to walk the entire way barefoot."

When we left the cobblers, Kíli announced he was in need of a seamstress. He told all who could hear that there was a rip in his trousers that needed mending. I offered to mend it for him, but he waved me off.

"I'm sure there'll be plenty of stitching in need of doing on the trip if you want to mend trousers," he said. "And besides, we need to get a couple more needles."

"What happened to the last ones?"

"Dwalin tried mending his jacket," he chuckled. "But he ended up blunting the needles on his hands!"

Dwalin grunted, but didn't contradict him. Several of the others began teasing him, but it was all in good humour.

"Well, you'll need to visit the drapery. Back down the street." Bilbo took the lead again. "I've only been to Bree once over the last year, but not a lot has changed."

"I thought you'd only got as far as Frogmorton?" Bofur joked.

"On a walking holiday," Bilbo corrected him. "I take the ferry to Bree, like we did."

They all parted ways at the door of the drapery, items taking their individual attention almost at once. I smiled as I watched them. Bofur immediately began bartering over the price of a length of mustard yellow cloth. For what reason, I could not hear, but he was very insistent on having it for a much lower price than advertised.

I made my own way around the shop, taking in the fabrics and items of clothing for sale at my leisure. A bright flash of colour caught my attention as I reached the far corner. There was a coat hanging off to the side. It was the colour of cranberries, rich and bright. Little golden brass buttons down the front and pale brown fur trim about the neck and wrists. It was beautiful.

It wasn't until I was beside it did I realise the garment was intended for a Hobbit. Shorter than for a human to wear, full for the form of female maturity, it matched my height and figure. Almost in a trance, my fingertips found the fur at the collar, and it was softer than I'd imagined. Yet, there was a burrowing sense of guilt in the pit of my stomach. Bilbo had given me his own mother's cloak. Which was practical and lovely in its own right, even if it wasn't as thick as the coat. Yet here I was, pining for a luxurious coat I could't even pay for.

Unfortunately, the seller noticed my preoccupation and come forward, smiling.

"Can I help you, miss?" He asked.

I shook my head, not wanting to tell him I hadn't any money to purchase anything in his shop. Let alone what was clearly one of the more expensive items.

"No, thank you. I was looking around and the coat caught my eye."

"Very well," he smiled still. "If you need assistance, don't hesitate to come and find me."

"Of course, thank you."

He left, still grinning.

I turned, sighing, back to the coat. It had a hood, lined with fur so soft and dense it felt as if my fingers were buried in a cloud.

"You have good taste," Fíli complimented.

I gave a start and yanked my hand from the hood, feeling like a child caught touching something she ought not to be.

Blushing, I tried to retain some dignity. "Thank you."

But Fíli didn't seem to notice, he was looking at the coat.

"Aren't you going to buy it?" He asked. "You'll need all the layers you can get on the trip."

I shook my head, again feeling shame for longing for something I could not buy.

"Why not?"

"I haven't any money," I whispered, shamefaced.

Fíli observed the coat for a moment, before taking a sleeve in hand. He hummed to himself as he observed the garment.

"The wool is closely woven, the fur is rabbit so will hold heat well. A decent length," he paused. "Here."

He pulled it from its hanger and held it out to me, open. I stared at him, mouth agape.

He smiled, a crooked thing that lifted one of his moustache braids higher than the other. I could see the similarity between him and Kíli far clearer now.

"Try it on, please?"

"But why? I cannot purchase it, so what is the sense in trying it on?"

He continued to smile. "For me?" He teased.

Sighing, I did as asked and stepped into the coat. How he managed to look so earnest with such a lopsided grin was beyond me. I had a feeling Fíli used his smile to get his way often, and knew full well the effect it had.

Fíli wrapped it around me, even buttoning it closed. The words to protest were on the end of my tongue, but when I felt the warmth of the coat I couldn't remember them. The entire coat was fur lined and I could feel its plushness through my clothing. Closing my eyes, I savoured the feeling, knowing it wouldn't last long. The fit was almost perfect, but a little big around my upper arms, middle and chest. I wondered if I would grow anymore as I aged. Surely then, I'd fill the coat out better? It seemed a shame to not fit a coat as perfect as this. Nimble fingers pulled the hood over my head and I turned my face to rub my cheek in the fur.

Fíli chuckled in front of me and I blinked up at him, having forgot his presence.

He'd finished buttoning me up and was now standing very close. One of his hands came up to my face. Instead of brushing my cheek, as I thought he intended, his hands dipped into the hood and brought forward a handful of my hair with care. He smoothed it down around my neck before repeating the same action on the other side. In doing so, I could feel less of the cool air of the shop against my neck. The memory of being tucked into bed dimly lit in the back of my mind, a half forgotten thing.

He was tucking me into the coat.

I couldn't control the heat that flushed my face and I dipped my head down to feel the soft fur against my lips.

"What do you think?" He asked once he finished, voice quiet and low.

Shy, I spared a glance up and saw those blue eyes of his were half lidded and sleepy looking. I felt warmth in the pit of my stomach.

"I love it," I admitted, equally as quiet.

"Good. Does it fit all right?"

I wriggled my hands and felt the fur at my wrists. Looking down, I noticed the hem reached to the bottom of my knees, an inch or two above the hem of my dress.

"It does."

"Good," he said again before beckoning me to follow him.

I knew I should take the coat off beforehand, but I was enjoying the luxury far too much. So followed him while brushing the cuffs with my fingertips. Reasoning that I could wear it while he looked around the shop for his own purchases. As we walked I looked around for the rest of our company and saw we were the only ones left in the shop. They must have moved on.

Then, instead of going to ponder the other wares on offer, Fíli led me to the seller I'd spoken with earlier. He grinned when he saw me wearing the coat.

"Change your mind, did you lass?" He asked.

Fíli stepped forward. "How much are you asking for the coat?"

"Twenty-five silver pieces."

Fíli nodded as his eyes cast over the selection of scarves, gloves, mittens and woollen hats next to the seller. He reached forward and picked up a pair of brown mittens, a red stocking cap and an evergreen scarf.

With patience, he wound the scarf around my neck, tucked the cap over my head before replacing the hood, and even put the mittens on my hands. All while ignoring my weak protests. The mittens were half gloves, the fingers cut to expose the tops of my fingers. With a folded pouch attached to the back of the hand and Fíli unhooked these to pull over my fingers. I had to marvel at the dexterity of his large hands. How he unbuttoned the fastening, and how reverently he handled my own hands as he did so.

I watched his movements, letting my eyes linger on the freckles on the backs of his hands. The small white and pink scars on his fingers. Did he get them fighting? Or through harmless means? One of his fingernails that had a crease to it, like something heavy had fallen on it a while ago. I wondered if it hurt him.

When he was done he turned back to the seller, who was watching us with a softness to his face not there before.

"Thirty silver pieces for the lot," Fíli offered.

The seller nodded without pause. "You have yourself a deal, my boy."

"But, Fíli," I began to protest.

He chuckled, freezing any retort I had, and his tone was deep with an emotion I couldn't name as he said, "Let me spoil you, Rose."

My gasp of surprise at the use of Bilbo's nickname was muffled by the thick scarf, but I was sure he'd heard me when he winked.

The seller chuckled.

"Aye, I'd let your love take care of you lass. He's a good'un, treats you right. It warms my heart to see a young couple like you, it does."

Dumbfounded, I opened my mouth to contradict him as he counted the coins Fíli had given him, but a hand on my forearm stopped me. Fíli caught my eye and shook his head, tucking my hand into the crook of his elbow like Bilbo did. Though the way Fíli stepped closer to me, and placed his own hand atop mine was unlike Bilbo in every way. At the same time, it felt familiar, and strange to have him so close to me.

There was someone else in the shop with us, a Man to Fíli's left who had stopped walking with a jolt. I hadn't realised he was watching us until Fíli used his body to tilt us away from him. The movement rocked me into Fíli until I was tucked more into the curve of his shoulder and chest. For a moment his motivation baffled me. The fluttering in my gut tricked me to thinking he was feeling the same lightheadedness as I was. Then, I saw the Man. He was moving closer, and his eyes were boring straight into Fíli's skull. Taking Fíli's lead, I lent into him, allowing my cheek to brush against his shoulder, my head dipped low but my eyes remained watching the Man.

He was very tall, with large shoulders rolling over a gaunt, sunken in chest. His clothes lead me to believe he had little money, but the pretty, yellow, and clearly expensive shawl in his hands belayed this. He was waiting to be served, but his eyes were fixed upon Fíli and myself.

"Thirty coins," the seller announced, cheerful. "Thank you lad, miss. Anything else for you today?"

Fíli was already moving us away from the silent figure beside us.

"No, that's everything we need. Thank you."

"You're welcome, do come again."

Fíli nodded and I spared the seller a quick thank you before he led us out the door. The Man behind us stepped up to the counter, but his face turned to watch us.

Fíli, still holding my hand on his arm, set a leisurely pace back towards The Prancing Pony. I realised that the others had left the shop long before us, and were now nowhere to be seen. There was this stillness between us that I was loath to break, because I knew he was silent for a reason. It was only when we turned onto the main street that he finally spoke.

"I apologise for taking liberties in the shop Rosalyn," Fíli began to explain. He kept his voice low and our pace slow enough that we appeared to be browsing the shop fronts around us. "But it would be best if no one knew you were a Dam here without a family escort."

"What do you mean?" I questioned, beginning to feel uneasy. "I don't understand what happened back there, is something wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," he assured me, patting my mittened hand while avoiding my gaze. "If you had been in any danger, I would not have waited to get you out of there."

Though the sentiment was reassuring, his reluctance to meet my eyes or answer me directly was not.

"Then what is it? Something has you on edge."

Outside, the sun beat down on us with unflinching heat. It might not be the height of summer, but the bite of winter had yet to come into the wind, and now I was beginning to feel hot.

He sighed, looking uncomfortable.

"Did you notice the Man?"

"Yes, he was watching us."

"No," Fíli grumbled, eyes darkening and face tightening. "He was watching you."

"He was?"

"Yes."

I swallowed. "Oh." It took me a moment to gather my frantic, feathered thoughts. "W—why?"

Fíli led me down a side alley and then around in a circle until we came out, once again, onto the main lane in town.

"I do not know for sure," he answered.

I eyed him. "But you have a theory?"

He nodded.

"What is it?" I asked, impatient.

"I don't wish to upset you—" he began, leading us to the far side of the street as he cast a look back over his shoulder.

"Too late, now spit it out," I ordered. Feeling for the first time, the frustration that was, as Hilda told me, characteristic of a Hobbit.

Fíli huffed out an amused snort. I wondered if I sounded like Bilbo at all, but Fíli didn't comment on my tone. He was trying to lose someone who was following us. But when I turned to look I could not see anyone who stood out to me as watching us. The fur lined boot and coat were beginning to make my upper lip damp.

"Very well," he acquiesced, glancing at me as I surveyed the street. "I believe he correctly identified you as a Dam."

I didn't understand the point he was trying to make.

"And?" I questioned. "Fíli, I don't understand what the matter is with people seeing me as I am. I understand, being a HalfBlood is not—"

He was quick to cut me off. "It's nothing to do with that Rose, trust me." He heaved a great sigh. "You don't remember what it is to be a Dam in this day and age."

"Well, then, tell me."

He grinned, a fledging thing that started from the pursed rose of his lips and blossomed to curl the corners.

"Your wish is my command," he joked. "You know, you might have been royalty yourself, you certainly order people around like a royal."

I knew he was joking but something about that sentence irked me.

"No, I get frustrated when information is being withheld from me that I should know. Particularly when smart-aleck Dwarves try to only drip feed me information."

His grin transformed into a smile.

"Very well," he acquiesced. "I know that this is an archaic and outdated viewpoint, but it is still a widely held belief that for an unmarried Dwarrowdam, it is unsuitable to be out in public."

I frowned. "I don't understand."

"There is the notion," he began, looking hesitant. "Backed by years of hardship, that, within the Dwarven community, an unmarried Dwarrowdam should be chaperoned."

"What? Why?"

"Without a chaperone, they are vulnerable. Many were once tricked by folk with evil intentions. Many clans now bar their Dams from leaving the safety of their homes, their villages. The few who travel, do so disguised as male Dwarves."

"They aren't allowed to leave their homes?" I asked, my voice very thin.

"I wouldn't say exactly that, but…no, for some of the Dams they stay with their clan," he answered. "I know of a few clans who deem it too risky to allow their Dams outside."

I shivered.

Bilbo had taught me all he knew of Dwarven culture and history. I knew that many clans lived underground, preferring to be nearer to stone and gems than to the grass and wind.

"What is it?" He asked.

"I could never remained trapped like that," I admitted. "I would sooner die."

Fíli turned to face me head on, stopping us in our tracks.

"What? Rose, you don't mean that."

"I do," I was fierce, staring at him, daring him to defy me. If this journey was going to be full of rules and restrictions because of my sex, then I was going to set them all right. Starting with him. "If anyone ever contained me like that, never allowing me to see the sun again I would already be dead."

I'd spent what I could remember of my life outside, gardening with Hamfast and Bilbo, running after Daisy through the hills, and savouring the mellow sunsets and rises that painted green grass purple and blue. How could I ever be expected to turn away from such beauty?

His face was grave, skin ashen beneath his golden beard. I knew he was fighting the instinct to protect me as a Dam, and no doubt years of ingrained teachings. And now, I was demanding for him to put those aside and see me as separate to what he knew. I had to make him see that a life such as that was imprisonment for me.

"Well, then," he finally spoke, voice quiet as his eyes held mine. "I will have to do everything in my power to make sure that never happens."

I wanted to move on from this topic of conversation and so I tugged on his arm to get us moving again. Fíli followed my lead, but there was an air of solemness around us now.

I thought back to Dwalin's comment.

"Do Dwarrowdams get married very young? Is that why lone ones are rare?"

He hesitated long enough for me to already know the answer.

"It depends on the family," he finally admitted. "For my mother, she was allowed to wait until she met my father. My uncle was pressured to look for a match from the age of sixty."

The word 'allowed' echoed in my ears. She had been allowed to marry. Someone had allowed her to be happy.

"Turning sixty seems to be a landmark age for Dwarrow," I commented, feeling as if I were balancing between a world I knew and a world that knew me. "It is the same no matter your gender?"

Fíli nodded. "Yes, in fact, Dwarrowdams mature far faster than Dwarrrow. Unfortunately, now there are far too few Dwarrowdams in the world. Partnerships are few and far between, marriages even less so. I was twenty-seven when I last attended a wedding."

"So, what does this have to do with me?"

He sighed again. "Once we have reclaimed Erebor and you have become known to the Dwarven world, there are seven clans who will try to claim you as their own."

"Claim me?" The words felt heavy on my tongue. "You said before that they would be honoured to have me as a part of the clan?"

He nodded. "I did. It would be a great honour to have a Dam as beautiful as you as part of their clan. We might be a race of the earth, but we have a fondness for beauty."

My tongue felt thick in my mouth. His flattery fell empty when I realised what he was saying. I would be a pretty gem to decorate their clan with.

"If you don't remember your past, your family, or," he hesitated. "If your family are gone there will be a fight for you to return to your birth clan."

I swallowed, uncomfortable at the thought of being so alone in the world.

"But, if I must be with Dwarves, can I not stay with you?"

Fíli startled at my words, pulling up to an abrupt stop in the middle of the cobbled street.

"You—you would want to stay with us?"

I shrugged, uncomfortable under his wide-eyed stare.

"Yes, I might not have known you all for very long, but you are now, aside from Bilbo, the only family I have ever known. In a sense. If no one would…claim me, as you say, then why can't I claim you?"

His cheeks were growing rosey beneath his beard, his eyes wide and unblinking. I had a feeling I was stepping over the line of Dwarven propriety.

"I mean—"

My apology was cut off by the approaching group of Dwarves, and Bilbo, their arms full of purchases. Bilbo, however, carried nothing.

"Well, don't you look a sight?" Nori whistled when he came to a stop in front of us. "All dressed up for us? You shouldn't have."

"What did you do, lad?" Glóin questioned, both chuckling and sounding stern. "Buy her the entire shop?"

Fíli had shaken from his stupor. "No Glóin, just what she needed."

"You look really pretty, Rosie," Kíli complimented, grinning.

"Thank you, Kíli."

He cocked his head to the side. "Aren't you warm?"

"A little," I admitted, reaching to take off the stocking cap.

Fíli stopped me, earning curious looks from the others.

"Fíli?" I tried to catch his attention, but his eyes stayed fixed down the lane as he lowered our arms and put my hand in the crook of his elbow again.

At the end of the street, a dark shape disappeared behind a house.

"Everything all right, lad?" Came a rumbling question from Dwalin.

Fíli nodded, eyes trained at where the shape had vanished. He lowered his voice to answer Dwalin.

"A Man watched us in the drapery, a man recognised Rose for what she is."

Dwalin became a watchman, surveying our surroundings. He moved so his back was facing me. Kíli came up beside me and stood by my side. He seemed taller. He too watched the area around us like a hawk. Unlike the others, his vision scoured the rooftops and windows above us. Bofur, ever the comedian, had lost his jolly smile. He was frowning, the line of his eyebrows harsh beneath the brow of his hat.

"It might be best if we get you indoors, lass."

Glóin stepped up beside Dwalin. "I agree."

They herded me along the street, forming a circle around me. We walked to The Prancing Pony as one, and I was sure we earned curious looks, but no one approached or stopped us.

"Is this necessary?" I asked.

"We have to keep you safe, Rosie," Kíli answered.

I wondered how long their protectiveness would last once we were on our way to Erebor. Surely they couldn't keep this up the entire way?

Thorin met us inside at the bar, where he was sat with Balin. They both frowned when they saw the protective bubble the rest had made around me. Bilbo had been squeezed to walk beside me, also within the safety of the huddle.

"What's wrong?" Thorin questioned when he saw Dwalin watching the other patrons.

"Someone watched Fíli and Rosalyn in the drapery," Dwalin supplied, keeping his voice low.

Bilbo and I were moved towards the bench set against the back wall. I took a seat, grateful to rest my feet and at last shed the layers of winter wear. Balin watched me with quirked lips, and even asked whether Ori had been knitting for me.

"Who?"

I looked up to see that Fíli was watching those sat at the bar. He hadn't relaxed with our change of location, and his unease was reflected in the others faces.

"A Man," he reported, eyes still elsewhere. "Dark hair, gaunt, wide shoulders, he limped on his left leg."

They all turned to watch those about us. Even Bilbo craned his neck to see into the crowd. Gandalf was still missing, I assumed he was either in town or in his room.

"I can't see him" Fíli at last admitted. "I'm hoping we lost him in the town."

Thorin moved and gestured that the rest all take a seat at the table.

"We will keep watch while we're here," he reassured them.

Everyone sat, but were still on edge. Packages and parcels were placed either at their feet or onto the table.

"We all have rooms for the night," Balin informed us all. "We'll get something to eat for now, and then we can rest."

After a while, the tense silence eased into quiet chatter, and then loud conversation as our food arrived. Beef and ale stew, hearty and filling, served with thick, crusty loaves of bread, and many mugs of frothy ale. I sipped some ale from Bilbo's mug, but didn't like the bitter tang to it. Balin flagged down a barmaid and she came back with a watered down mead which was much more to my taste. Conversation soon flowed with ease, the incident in town forgot for now, and eventually I found myself nodding off in the cosy warmth of the room.

Standing, I bundled my new clothing into my arms.

"I'm going to retire for the night, good night everyone."

Fíli jumped to his feet at my announcement, his half drunk mug abandoned.

"I'll walk you to your room."

"That won't be necessary," I said, watching as Kíli reached over and pilfered his brother's mug.

"I insist."

"Rose," Bilbo called to me over the clamour of the pub. His cheeks were rosy from the ale. "Please let him. We can't be too careful."

I sighed, worn out from the day's excitement and worn down by the tension my phantom tracker had caused, and nodded.

"Very well."

Fíli rose and held out his arm for me to take, a wicked grin on his lips. It seemed the ale had done more than make Bilbo's eyes droop with sleep.

"My lady," Fíli invited.

Cheerful hoots and whoops came from the group, goodnatured ribbing and teasing as I took his arm.

"Goodnight everyone," I bade them again, fighting a flush.

They chorused back the same, some louder than others.

Fíli walked beside me up the creaking stairs and to the room numbered seven in silence. It was in the middle of a corridor of rooms likewise set up for smaller folk. The others had the rest of the rooms, but I was the only one not sharing. When Balin had told me at dinner, I'd asked why and received a brief explanation about upholding proper sleeping arrangements for as long as possible. I suppose camping out with only sleeping bags for protection, propriety was going to be long forgotten in a weeks time.

"Thank you Fíli." I let go of his arm and brushed the fur of the coat again.

"What for?"

"The coat, I know it wasn't cheap and I want you to know that I will pay you back as soon as I have the money to do so."

"Rose," he sighed, but looked amused. "I did not buy you this coat with the aim of being repaid. I bought it because you needed it, and because it makes you happy."

"But—" I tried to argue but he wouldn't hear it.

He shook his head and backed up away from me.

"You do not need to pay me back."

"But I want to," I insisted.

"Then, you can do so by wearing it as much as you can."

"That hardly pays you back the thirty coins you paid!"

"It will," he assured me over his shoulder as he walked down the hallway. "Trust me."

Just a note for people confused as to why I've had them leave with ponies from Bree rather than Hobbiton like in the book. I needed Rose to have shoes! It was one of those major points of her character development and building on her relationship with Bilbo and the company. So please forgive this small change.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review and let me know what you thought.