Dori leaned back in his chair as he took in a long breath of mint-flavored smoke from his pipe. With his eyes closed, he could not see the flickering of the flames before him, but he could certainly feel them. The warmth felt good against his skin, reminding him of his own hearth back in Erebor. Just a couple more days, he thought, and he could be sitting in front of it again with a nice cup of tea while listening to Nori and Ori bickering…
Wait, that last bit wasn't right…
Opening his eyes, he turned round to see his brothers motioning angrily at two sets of stone dice on the table. "Your dice are weighted, Nori! That isn't far!" Ori said, trying to sound as stern as possible. Being the youngest of the three, however, made him sound anything but authoritative –at least to Nori.
"They are not weighted! Why would I cheat at a game of dice with me own brother when I know full well he hasn't anythin' o' value to offer?" Nori snapped, throwing one of the dice. It hit Ori square in the forehead, making him scrunch his nose up and rub the spot.
'Durin's beard, they're at it again…' Dori thought, his eyes closing again. This time, however, it was not in peace.
Ori snatched up the die that had been thrown at him. "This is too one o' your weighted dice!" he argued. "I see the bits of granite you've stuck in the numbers!" He angrily pointed at the minute, white flecks inside the die's rune markings.
"You couldn't tell granite from gabbros," Nori growled, snatching it back from him. "You've never even worked in a mine! Mum made sure of that!"
"That's because mum saw my potential as a transcriber," Ori grumbled, looking away with a small, indignant pout.
Nori rolled his eyes, gathering up the rest of his dice. "No, she knew you wouldn't last three days in one of those nâshtagûl-"
"Language," Dori idly warned. "And stop your bickering. Nori, use your unweighted dice. You're not trying to swindle money out o' people here –least of all, your brother." He shook his head and sighed, smoking slowly billowing from his mouth and nose. "Why, if dear ol' mum were alive and hearing the way you two fight…She'd knock you both upside the head an' make you scrub the floors."
"The floors could use a good scrubbin', but we don't make guests do that." They looked up as the blonde waitress, who they found out was named Demelza, brought over a platter of food for them. "Here you lads are," she said. "Sorry it took a bit; we've just got a couple o' wagons of supplies here from Dorwinion, so the kitchen an' store room are in a bit of a tizzy."
Dori got up from his chair and dragged it back over to the table. "It's quite alright, miss," he replied, smiling reassuringly. "This should do us quite well for now."
"Alright then," she said. "Just give us a holler if'n you're needin' anything." With a twirl of her skirts, she walked off into the kitchen once more, leaving the dwarves as the room's only occupants. From what they had gathered, this was a rare thing to happen.
"Bifur and Bofur are missing out," Ori spoke, trying to change subject with his brothers. "Where are they at?" He started to cut the loaf of crusty bread so he could dunk some into his soup.
Nori shrugged, still feeling a bit sour towards him and Dori. "Probably in that run-down shack they're goin' to call a store." He slid his dice into a pouch on his belt, his brows furrowed slightly.
"It's a strong building," Dori interjected, throwing him a look. "Once they get it cleaned up, I'm sure it'll suit their needs." He sliced a chunk of cheese from the large wedge they had been given and dropped it into his soup bowl. "It's adds a bit more of a salty flavor," he told his brothers when they looked at him oddly.
Nori shook his head. "It's a gamble I wouldn't have made an' that's sayin' something," he told the other two. He merely ripped a chunk of bread from the loaf and split that in half. Between the pieces, he spooned a bit of soup before placing some cheese atop it. On top of that, he placed a wedge of meat and smashed it all together between the two pieces of bread before taking a large bite. "They're toymakers, not miracle workers," he somehow managed to say through the mouthful of food.
Dori rolled his eyes. "Let's not discuss your habits at the lunch table, shall we?" he dryly suggested. "Ori, have you been keepin' a record of our goings-on over the last few days?"
"Yes, I have," he replied, fumbling with something on his belt. He held up a small, leather-bound book. "All of it is in here, includin' the meetings we had just this morning." Flicking the book open, he flipped through it until he found the most recent pages. "See? It's all here." He handed it over to Dori.
Nori leaned over, looking it over as well. "It seems that we'll be doin' most of our dealings with that Ivsgard fellow," he murmured. Straightening up, he took another bite of his food before spooning some soup into his mouth.
"Indeed it does," Dori agreed. "As well as that Lady Guthwine…"
Ori, having heard most of what they were talking about earlier, paid them no mind as he ate his lunch. He did his best to not slurp the soup from his spoon, not wanting to disrupt the general quiet of the room at the moment. Truthfully, the work his brothers did bored him. He had only come with them because he would be able to see how the humans of Dale lived (much different from the small villages near the Blue Mountains). Maybe even see an elf or two again (alas, that had yet to happen). There was another book on his person, a slightly larger one than the notebook Dori was looking over, that he had been filling with sketches of people, animals, and buildings during his stay. It had been empty when they arrived; by then, it was nearly full.
Hearing the kitchen door creak open, he glanced up in time to see Warren backing his way out of the kitchen, holding up one end of a massive oak barrel. As the other half of the barrel came through, he could see that a young man held the other end. He was similar to Warren in size and height, but the color of his eyes matched the bright, green of Baylee's and dark, blonde hair. Though, there was one notable feature about this young fellow that kept Ori from noticing the rest: Almost the entirety of the left side of his face looked like something big had tried to make a snack out of him.
"More t' the left," the man told Warren as they carried the barrel behind the bar. The two of them grunted loudly as they started to crouch down. "Watch your fingers!"
"You, too," Warren answered as they set the barrel down. Seeing that it was in its proper place and had no intent of rolling away, they grinned and stood up straight again. "Now, how many did ya say were left out there?" he jokingly asked.
The young man smirked as Warren set a large hand on his shoulder. "Eight. You told me to refill our alcohol supplies an' that's just what I did."
"And not a day too soon. We were going to be out of ale by the end o' the week an' out o' wine by tomorrow."
He feigned a look of hurt. "Now, father, when have I ever let ya down?" he asked, unscarred brow rising.
"I think Miss Baylee got the short-stick in her family," Ori quietly told the other two, interrupting their chat about what virgin ore would be best to give to which of their potential business partners.
Dori raised his spoon from his soup, a long, thin string of cheese rising with it. "Hm? Why's that, laddie?"
Ori motioned to the two men, who were ducking back into the kitchen. "That younger bloke is her brother."
"I'd like t' know what they eat," Nori said, half joking. "Maybe I could get taller than Dwalin." He spooned more soup into his mouth before ripping off another hunk of bread. This one he put into the middle of his soup, using his spoon to mash it up.
At that, Dori and Ori snorted into their bowls. "You already are," Ori grinned. "But only because of your hair!" He grinned cheekily as Nori shot him a small glare, though he was able to see that his middle brother also wore a small grin on his lips.
The kitchen door was opened yet again as Warren and his son came hauling in another barrel. The dwarves could see that it was taking them some effort; as strong as Warren looked (and was), his cheeks were red and there were beads of sweat forming along his brow. Dori frowned; didn't they have others to help?
"Lads, would you like some help with those barrels?" he called over when they had set this second barrel down.
Warren panted slightly as he looked back at the dwarf. "I couldn't ask tha' o' you, Master Dori. You're a guest here!"
He smiled reassuringly. "You're not askin'; I'm offerin'. Now, with that said, would you like some help?"
With a small laugh, Warren nodded in defeat. "Aye, some help would much appreciated. We've got six more of these heavy blighters t' haul in."
"Should be easy enough," he said, standing. "Nori, Ori –let's go. Lunch will still be here when we get back."
Just as a reassurance, both Ori and Nori shoved a last bite of cheese into their mouths, chewing it as they followed Warren and his son through the kitchen and into the inn yard. They were more than a little surprised to find three wagons packed neatly into the area. The largest of them was facing the door of the kitchen and the three dwarves could see why: It was filled with nothing but barrels of varying sizes, though none of them could be called small.
"In you go, Ori," Nori said, hefting his brother into the back of the cart. "Roll us one of those big ones, aye?"
Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Warren glanced over at his son. "Are they goin' to be alright, carrying one of those blighters?" he asked quietly, concern written on his face.
"Aye, don't worry, Will. Dwarves are much stronger than they look. How else d'ya think they hollowed out mountains?" He smiled confidently as he watched Ori spin one of the larger barrels around and slowly begin to ease it off the wagon. "How many horses drew that one?"
"Six," he replied. "An' all of them get t' go back Ivsgard when we're done here." His eyes widened as he watched Dori and Nori easily carry the barrel up the steps and into the kitchen. What he didn't notice was that, as the strongest of the three brothers, Dori held most of its weight. "Where's Baylee at, by the way?" He and his father walked over to the cart, having regained their breath.
Pointing out a barrel to Ori, he shrugged. "She's probably off at the seamstress, makin' sure her new clothes fit."
Will thanked Ori as he rolled the first end of the barrel to him. "She's finally giving up that overdress of hers?" Despite his brows being furrowed in concentration, his eyes were wide in surprise.
"Not too willingly, I don't think." He grunted, catching the other end of the barrel. The two of them could feel the liquid within slosh slightly; it was very full. "But there are a few lads in town who're gettin' in the marryin' frame o' mind and I thought it best for her to look a bit more…you know. Proper."
Raising his brow as they entered the common room for the third time, Will gave his father a small glare over the top of the barrel. "She looks proper enough. If she has t' get dolled up for some bloke to take a fancy t' her, then he isn't worth her time," he gruffed. They set the barrel down and he leaned backwards, feeling something in his back pop. "But she does need a new overdress –that I will say." He pointed an accusing finger at his father. "An' not because she needs t' find a lad."
Warren cocked his brow. "…Gone all this time an' ya still weren't able t' find yourself a sense o' humor," he chuckled, reaching over and mussing up Will's hair. "I had been joking, son. You know I wouldn't put your sister into anythin' she didn't want. Ah, that one goes over there, masters." He pointed at a lineup of smaller barrels as Dori and Nori came in, each carrying a medium-sized barrel.
Will's cheeks flushed a deep crimson at his father's words. "Er…Well then."
Laughing, Warren hooked his arm around his shoulders and led him back outside. "Ya need to liven up a bit. If ya weren't so young, people would think you're Baylee's dad –not her younger twin!" He pulled back from his son as he spotted something behind him, a wary look on his face. "Oh dear…" he murmured, feigning concern
"What? What is it?" Will turned around just in time to be knocked backwards by a blur of bright green and yellow. He grunted as he landed hard on the ground, but laughed, hugging his assailant. "Baylee!"
"When in the world did ya get back?!" she laughed, clinging onto her brother. "I didn't see hide nor hair o' ya blokes while I was out!"
He grinned, sitting up and finding that the dwarves were chuckling at the sight of them. "That's because we snuck in through the eastern gate." Getting to his knees, he hoisted his sister up and over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. She squealed, kicking her legs as she playfully hit him in a futile attempt to get him to put her down. "Huh. You've lost weight, 'Lee!" he teased, giving her a small toss just to tease her. "Inn's been crowded, has it?"
"Put me down, ya big lout!" she laughed, cheeks flushed.
"This is what you get for bein' short an' as light as a feather. I mean, you're so much easier t' carry than those barrels of mead an' beer."
Nori and Dori, who had heard the word 'mead', lifted their brows and looked at the barrel they were carrying. Wide grins spread across their faces and they hurried their now-precious cargo into the inn. They knew what they were having with dinner…
Pouting, Baylee reached up and grabbed a hold of the edge of the last barrel in the wagon before pulling herself up and away from her brother. Ori blinked in surprise as her head suddenly appeared overtop it. "Hello, Ori," she chirped before hauling herself up to sit on the lid of the barrel. "Can't get me up here, can ya?" she grinned down at her brother. That grin instantly faded as Will reached over, grabbing her ankles.
"So that's your new overdress?" Warren said as he clamored into the wagon. "Thank you, Master Ori. We should be good t' go for now. You can go finish up your lunch." Will quickly released his sister's ankles, trying to look innocent as he turned away.
"It was no trouble, sir," Ori chirped before making his way out of the wagon.
Warren lifted Baylee away from her brother's reach, setting her so she stood on top of the barrel. "Yellow again? Hm. But I see ya got some green, too." He grabbed the hem of the overdress and pulled it out so he could better see the circular designs the green fabric created. "Hm. This sort o' design is new for you though. Don't think I've ever seen a piece o' your clothing without some sort o' flower on it…"
"Well, I didn't want it all green…an' I didn't want t' trouble the seamstress too much with silly flowers," she said, cheeks turning red again. "Papa, you can set me back on the ground…" She shifted uncomfortably.
He smiled apologetically and set her on the floor of the wagon. "Sorry, 'Lee. I just wanted a better look an' with how short you are…"
"You an' William are just giants!"
"I think the dress suits her." Demelza poked her head out from the other side of the second wagon, her blonde hair falling out of the loose bun it had been in. "Too much green would have made her look sickly."
Baylee smiled, cheeks still red. "Thank ya, auntie." She hopped out of the wagon as her father lifted up the final barrel. Walking to the wall of the inn, she stooped and plucked up the box she had dropped upon seeing her brother. "Do ya need any help haulin' stuff in?"
"Me 'n Wenna have gotten most of it already," Demelza told her, "but, here-" She lifted a wooden crate from the wagon and handed it down to her, "-take this in. It's our dried berries."
Her eyes lit up. "I can finally make some bread again!" she grinned. "Now Abbot can stop harkin' me 'bout never havin' any these days."
"He's just a silly, crotchety old man anyway," her aunt told her as she walked off.
Going into the kitchen, Baylee could see that many boxes had been stacked in the corner, near the cellar door. She set the crate atop the pile, tucking her own, smaller box under her arm before grabbing a piece of cheese and leaving the kitchen. Across the common room, she saw the three brothers eating quite merrily; Ori's feet dangled off of his stool and he was lightly kicking them back and forth as a child would. A smile came to her lips and she turned down the hallway, making for the private quarters.
'Cute little fellow, he is,' she thought.
Her room was in the back corner of the inn, and was the only one in the private quarters that had windows facing both north and east. It did not have much in the way of furniture –just her bed, a small desk, and a trunk at the foot of her bed- but her walls were decorated with bright, green and white hangings of running horses and intricate knot work. One wall, though, was covered in various maps detailing the lands east of the Misty Mountains. This things had come from Rohan, having once belonged to her mother and aunt, who had grown up in the Westfold.
But she paid these no heed as she came into the room. Taking the last bite of her cheese, she knelt before the old trunk –this had belonged to her father's mother- and gently set the box inside of it, having to nudge over some of her older, more worn dresses.
"I'll save you for somethin' special," she murmured to herself, smiling. Inside the box, she knew there was a sky-blue dress embroidered with white flowers around its hems. Too pretty, she knew, to be worn in the inn every day, but there would come a time she could pull it out…
Her eyes drifted past the small pile of folded clothes to the worn wooden handle of some sort of tool. She was about to reach for it, but stopped herself and shook her head. Letting the trunk's lid fall shut, she quietly sighed.
'No need to be looking at that,' she mentally scolded herself. 'You'll just stir up bad memories…'
"Your two favorite patrons are here." She jumped and looked up, her eyes wide. When she saw her brother leaning against the doorframe, eating an apple, she eased. "Sorry. Didn't mean to give ya a fright." He smiled apologetically and wandered over, offering his hand to her.
"It's fine," she reassured him, standing up with his help. She brushed a bit of dust from her new dress. "William 'n Abbot, huh? Best get started on that bread for Abbot, then."
Will quietly laughed, offering her a bite of the fruit. "What? He's bein' that impatient?" He held onto the apple as she took a bite, not wanting her to steal it.
Chewing the bite, she followed him out of the room and down the hallway. "Not terribly. We've only been out o' dried fruits for a week, but it's still a bit o' a downer on him. An' me." She reached past him, opening the door into the main hall before he could and grinned cheekily when he raised his brow at her. "I miss havin' it in the mornin'."
Will hooked his arm around her shoulders, starting to lead her back out into the common room. "Ya know, for being my older sister-"
"Don't you even finish tha' sentence, lad," she warned, her voice stern, but a joking smile on her lips. "Ya had twenty minutes more t' bake 'n me. That's why you're so big."
He grinned, plucking up a clean mug with his free hand. "Well, you were startin' t' get burnt, apparently." He flicked her brunette braid over her shoulder and jumped back just in the nick of time to avoid getting his gut smacked. "Gone two months an' my own twin tries t' hit me! What is this world comin' to?" Feigning a look of hurt, he flicked open the tap on a barrel of ale, filling his mug.
"You're lucky I got customers t' tend to, Will," she grinned, managing to lightly smack his arm. She went over to the table where the elder William and Abbot sat, both of them drinking some ale. "Good-day t' ya, sirs," she smiled. "I take it the two o' ya want the usual for your lunches?"
"Aye, that'll be good," said William, his wrinkled face scrunching up as he smiled. "And maybe a side of some o' those sweet sausages?"
She nodded in understanding. "I can do tha' for you if that's what ya want." Turning to Abbot, she pointed at him, grinning. "Guess what we just got in this afternoon?"
The old man blinked, his somewhat sour expression brightening. "Ah, so the tradin' lads are back?" he said. "When's the soonest you'll have some o' that bread made?"
"Tomorrow morning at the latest," she told him. "We've still got a lot yet to put away."
He slowly nodded. "Aye, then I'll take some o' that sour bread you've got. It goes good with stew."
"Alright then. Anythin' else for you then?" When they shook their heads, she excused herself from their table and went to check on the dwarves. "You lads needin' anythin'?" she asked, approaching the table. She could see that their bowls were empty and that Ori was nibbling on some bread while Nori ate some cheese. Dori, on the other hand, was blowing smoke rings into the air above their table.
Ori looked up at her, smiling shyly. "Can I have another bowl o' soup, please?" he asked.
"Make that two bowls," Nori said, shoving his bowl towards her.
"Three, rather," Dori chuckled. He set his bowl inside Nori's and those inside of Ori's. "And, could you perhaps fill them all the way t' the top, Miss Baylee?"
"That I can do," she said, taking the bowls from Ori. Leaning over, she peeked into Ori's mug. Only enough for a small drink was left in the bottom of his mug. "An' it looks like you three need some more ale. Can't have you eatin' lunch with nothin' t' drink!"
"Further proof that this establishment has been given the perfect name," Dori chuckled, lightly patting his stomach. He watched as she scooped up the three mugs by their handles and walked off. Leaning forward, he saw Nori pulling a set of three dice from the pouch at his side and raised his brow. "If you two are goin' to go at it again, those best be your normal dice."
Nori rolled his eyes. "Of course they are. See for yourself." He rolled one over to his brother, who inspected it carefully. "Those are entirely shale, I swear."
"They better be," Ori murmured. "I don't like it when you cheat, especially if it's against your own family."
As Dori handed the die back to him, Nori allowed a small smirk to come to his lips. "How do you think I learned t' be a good cheater? Playin' against you two 'n dad is what got me started."
"What do you mean by that?" Dori questioned, his brow rising.
He cocked his own brow as he looked at his brother. "I never stood a chance against the two of you. I had to think of a way to win somehow, didn't I?" he grinned, starting to shake his dice.
Ori looked at his own dice, which had been carved from petrified wood many years ago. "I just don't think it's terribly nice that you try an' cheat against your brother," he said simply. A foaming mug of ale was set beside him and he started to say 'Thank you, Miss Baylee' but, thankfully, he only got out the 'Thank you' when he saw that it had not been Baylee who set the ale next to him, but Will.
"No trouble, little masters," he said, smiling at them. Now that he was so close to them, Ori was finding it hard to not stare at the scars gashed into his skin. "Is there anything else I can get ya or does my sister have you taken care of?" he asked, putting his hands on his hips.
"O' course I have." Baylee appeared from behind him, her platter held above her head as she leaned over. A bowl was set before Dori; Will could see that it was filled almost to the point of overflowing. "Can't let our customers starve or get thirsty now, can we?" she mused, giving Nori his soup.
"No. That'd be the Empty Tankard across town," Will joked, moving to add more fuel to the fire behind the dwarves. The sun may have been out during the day, but night was starting to fall and, with the flames dying, a chill was rising in the air.
Looking at Ori, Baylee saw that he was still staring at her brother; she knew his gaze was directed at the scars. As she set his soup in front of him, she leaned over a bit more than needed. "He fought in the War," she quietly told him.
He looked down at his bowl, cheeks turning a deep red. "I wasn't meaning to stare," he mumbled. "I'm sorry."
She lightly patted the back of his shoulder. "He's used t' it," she told him. "He'll even tell ya the story if you ask nicely," she chuckled.
Will glanced over his shoulder at the group. "Hm?"
"Nothin'. Go back to your fire feedin'."
"Careful, 'Lee," he grinned, "or I'll have t' set you on the lamp there." He nodded towards the iron chandelier that hung from the center of the ceiling.
"Oh, you wouldn't dare!"
Will got up and moved towards the table, grinning determinedly. "You think?" The dwarves smiled as they watched the two of them; they could hear Abbot and William laughing behind them.
"Get 'er, Willie!" the elder William called. The younger grinned, starting to stalk towards his sister.
Her eyes widened and she backed up. "Oh no you don't –I've got customers t' tend to an' you've got a fire t' build!" She held her serving tray in front of her almost like a shield, her other hand reaching for a chair.
It was then Warren entered the room, holding a bloodied cloth to his forearm. His brow rose as he saw his son and daughter and he shook his head. "Will! Stop terrorizin' your sister!" he ordered. "An' Baylee, your aunt needs help in the kitchen." Pulling back the cloth, he could see his fresh wound was bleeding quite nicely. "And maybe boil me up some water. I'm goin' t' have t' stitch this shut."
She frowned, taking his arm and inspecting it as they walked towards the kitchen. "How'd you get that?"
"Nail sticking out of the wagon. It's nothing. Just boil me up some water." He followed her into the kitchen. Will, meanwhile, went back to building a fire, able to hear the two elders chuckling.
"Baylee indeed got the short stick," Nori murmured quietly. He let his dice roll across the table. "Eighteen and four. Your roll." He shoved a spoonful of soup in his mouth.
Ori let his spoon hang out of his mouth as he shook up his dice with both hands. Letting them go, he and Nori watched as they rolled across the table, coming to rest near the bread board. "Ten and three," he sighed, pulling the spoon from his mouth.
Dori shook his head, watching as his brothers played their silly dice game. He was halfway through his soup when the door to the common room opened. In came Bofur and Bifur, both looking rather tired. As they trudged over to the table, Dori saw that they were covered from head to foot in various types of dust and both had bits of wood sticking out of their hair.
"You lads look like you had a rough day," he said, frowning.
Bifur nodded, too tired to talk at the moment. Instead, he made various signs with his hands before climbing into his chair. He let his head fall back against the backrest.
"Well, you got t' get the place clean before you can do anythin' else I suppose," Nori said, rolling his dice again. "Ha! Twenty-four an' five! I'm up to thirty-four and nine so far." He plucked up his ale and took a long drink as Ori shook up his dice. "Ori, go order them some lunch," he ordered after they tallied up the younger's points.
"Why me?" he frowned.
"Consider it revenge for wakin' me up and makin' me go with you to the privy last night."
His cheeks turning pink, Ori got up from his spot and hurried towards the kitchen.
"It's comin' along nicely, though," Bofur said, smiling tiredly. His mustache looked grey from all the dust. "We've got all the fallen debris off of the floors an' we've already taken the measurements for the new window. We just need t' find ourselves a carpenter or decent enough woodworker t' help us with that…an' the floors an' doors."
At that, Will cocked his head, unable to help but listen in as he placed some kindling in the coals of the fire.
Bifur raised his hands again, making a few gestures without looking at his companions.
"Aye, an' someone who can make a big enough sheet o' glass. Maybe Master Braddock will know someone…But first comes the wood work. That's the most important bit. Can't have a shop with a door that don't like stayin' shut. An' some o' the second floor floorboards need replacin'." He smiled sheepishly; his foot had fallen through the floor earlier that day.
Dori nodded in agreement. "Aye, you don't want thieves t' get in with ease," he told him, pointing the stem of his pipe at him. "I suggest some nice, heavy oak doors. Maybe even maple."
"I don't meant t' pry, little masters," Will interrupted, "but you said you needed a carpenter?" He stood up, brushing the soot and slivers of wood from his trousers.
Bofur blinked; how had he not seen that giant of a man behind Dori? "You must eat your greens…" he thought aloud, gawking up at Will. Ori came back, returning to his seat. He and Nori resumed eating and their game of dice.
Will laughed, setting his hands on his hips. "Ah, it's just a trait I get from dad," he explained. "So…about this carpenter business…?" He smiled down at them before dragging over a chair. He twirled it around so that it was backwards before sitting down, large forearms resting on the backrest.
Bifur nodded, using his hands to speak. "There's a lot o' work to be done," Bofur translated. "As you probably heard, doors need fixed an' an entire floor should be replaced. Not t' mention, we'll need a new window frame, work tables, display shelves…The lot."
Setting his chin in his palm, he tilted his head curiously. "Just what sort of place did ya buy? If you don't mind me askin', that is."
"They purchased a three story building in the main market district," Dori answered; Bofur and Bifur's lunch had arrived via Demelza. "Their intent is to turn it into a toy shop."
"Oh, a toy shop!" Demelza chirped. "That'll be a lovely addition t' the town." As she spoke, the dwarves noticed that her accent seemed different than Will's and her voice was much richer and deeper than Baylee's. "I know my grandchildren are already in need o' some new toys and they're barely five!" She looked down at Bifur and Bofur, her brow rising slightly as she saw how filthy they were. "Would ya two like me to ready you a bath for after your meal?" she asked.
"That would be lovely," Bofur answered with a tired grin. As she walked off, he looked back at Will. "So. What proof do you have o' your skills, lad?" Leaning forward, he huddled himself around his soup bowl and started to eat almost greedily.
"Well, you're eatin' on one example," the human replied, patting the tabletop. "Parts o' this place are other examples…Let's see…I built the doors," he nodded towards the kitchen, "and those stairs. Also did most o' the framework for the windows and doors on the upper floors. That's about it, really. The rest o' the stuff I've done is sunk with Smaug at the bottom of the Long Lake or having been burnt t' a crisp by that demon, sadly."
Dori cocked his head. "You haven't done any work around the city?" he questioned. He lightly smacked Bifur's hand as the dwarf was trying to eat his soup and his cheese at the same time –a rather difficult task. "Slow down or you'll get a stomachache!" Bifur half-glared at him, but did slow down his eating.
Shaking his head, Will let out a small sigh. "I wish I could say I have, but ever since I got these beauties-" he motioned at his face, "-folk have been a little scared of me. Some friends o' the family hire me once in awhile, but only for minor repairs like a wobbly chair or squeaky door. I've mostly been traveling with the trading caravans of late."
The three nodded in unison as they listened to him. Bofur thought over his words as he ate, letting his eyes wander about. He had already noticed when they arrived that the tables seemed to be of better quality than most inns and that the windows in his and Bifur's room did not rattle or let in the chilly night air –a sign that the building was well-cared for.
"Well then," he declared at long last, looking at Will. He grinned, standing up and leaning over the table as he held out his hand, nearly knocking over his soup. "It'll be a pleasure workin' with you, lad." He could see a glint of excitement come to Will's eyes as he eagerly shook his hand. "I'm Bofur an' this is my cousin, Bifur. I'm afraid he doesn't speak Westron, so if you've any questions, you'll have t' come to me. We'll discuss wages 'n things after Bifur and I have had our bath."
Less than an hour later found the cousins in the male bathing room of the inn. It was nestled behind the kitchen and alongside the female bathing room. Curtains hung around the eight tubs, giving them plenty of privacy. Not that the two of them cared; they had bathed often enough around one another. So, they had the curtain separating their tubs thrown back, making for easier conversation.
"The lad seems skilled enough," Bofur was saying as he had his head bent over the water, scrubbing soap into it. He learned a long time ago that it was vital to wash one's hair first, lest the water get too dirty. "After all, our rooms aren't cold at night, even when the fire goes out. Anyway, we both know the only use I can find for wood is for makin' toys. I'm lost on actual carpentry as I'm sure you are, too."
"Gholiz hi hadhidh agrîf atrêv mâ aruk. Zu lûndíz ûrû âcur îzit furkh uzu," Bifur chortled, also scrubbing his hair. His was proving to be a bit more difficult, as he also had a large beard to clean. Unbraiding his beard and mustache proved to be the easiest part; he had a rather wiry beard, so it was no easy task to finger-comb the bits of wood and plaster from it. "Mahih'ala lù ashurtuluk mâ arukh."
Unable to see thanks to the curtain of brunette hair in his face, Bofur blindly reached over the edge of the tub, his hand groping along the floor for the bucket of warm water meant for rinsing. "Seems that way, doesn't it? I guess we just got lucky when Dwalin told us t' come here." He found the rope for the bucket and grabbed it, dragging it over. It was a harder task than one would think; the tubs were human-sized, not dwarven, so he had to reach over quite far. "Dori, Nori, an' Ori asked for help an' they got it. We ask for help an' we get it." He poured the water over his head, but didn't use all of it –he still had to scrub his beard and mustache.
"Mâ furkh yadi agúluk mezer zehe gândadír," Bofur said, grabbing his own bucket and rinsing himself off.
Bofur thought over his words as he leaned against the back of the tub. They would have to stay quite a bit longer than Dori, Nori, and Ori…after all, they were here to make and open a shop, not to meet potential business partners and discuss fair trading amounts. Hard work took time, no matter how many helpers one had. For now, it seemed, they would have to live in the inn.
Of course, they had a home back in Erebor –they had quite the elaborate mansion thanks to their share of the reward for helping reclaim the mountain. It would be such a hassle to walk an hour every morning to come to Dale and work in the shop only to finish a long day of labor and have to walk an hour to get back home. Looking at Bifur, he could tell that his cousin was going through the same thought process; he was muttering under his breath about travel.
"We may just have t' end up livin' here for a few months," he blurted out, starting to rub some soap into his mustache. "Maybe shorter if we could talk some o' our friends into comin' and helpin'…"
Bifur, at this point, was scrubbing between his toes. "Zu dolzhik?" he mumbled. He took a mental note to take the time that evening to trim his toenails; they were getting uncomfortably long. "Fûna achùsho; Bomburme baruf shur hya u'zahar."
"Aye, Bombur will take care of things," he agreed, rinsing his mustache, "but one of us will still have t' go back and let him know what all is goin' on." Though, he was afraid about the amount of food his brother and his family (a beautiful wife and seven children, none of which are over the age of thirty, and an eighth in the oven) would consume from their pantry.
He had spent three days stocking that pantry.
Bombur better not have emptied it yet.
He probably had.
"Tada mak usk," Bifur stated, not noticing the small frown that had come to his cousin's face.
Bofur shook his head, clearing it of thoughts of his brother. "Aye, it makes sense. No one here would be able t' make heads nor tales of what you were sayin'," he laughed. Grabbing a cloth, he started to scrub at the dirt on his arms and legs. His brows furrowed slightly as he looked at his left leg, inspecting the geometric bands of blue ink that encircled his calf. It had once been a rich, deep indigo in color; now it was about the color of a summer sky. "Goin' t' have to get this touched up sometime soon," he muttered to himself.
"Kulhu?"
He held up his leg for his cousin to see, pointing at the faded blue design. "It's faded. I'll need a touch-up on it before it gets any lighter."
Bifur squinted, scrutinizing the tattoo. He knew full well that all male dwarves (and some females) had them; they symbolized what clan they came from, what their jobs were, and even their prowess in battle. Quite a number of them covered his own body, many of them thanks to his forehead accessory, though his favorite was an intricately-patterned star inked around his belly button –it represented the day he found and killed the owner of the axe. "Dwalin ughlekh khi," he replied at last. "Hi ghelekh tázakur."
"Of course he's good at doin' tattoos –he's done most o' his own!" he snorted. "Except the ones on that thick skull o' his. He had t' get Balin to do those ones." He now had his arms raised, inspecting the bands around his upper and lower arms. The inked skin, he saw, was still rather dark –a good thing, too, since those were relatively fresh markings.
"Fi hi burkíl zu, hi khu tazéke zu," mused Bifur. By now, he was scrubbing at his arms, the water around him turning a grayish white in color. He tried to not notice it; the color disturbed him. Of course, he had been dirtier during baths before, but, at least during those, he had been bathing in a river or stream so the water flowed away…not remained around him.
Bofur snickered. "Then it's a good thing he isn't here t' bash my skull in. Don't think he could catch me, though…I'm faster than him." He grinned cheekily at his cousin.
He wore a small smirk as he stole a quick look at the younger dwarf. "Hi nalrîz zu ghebetúl."
The cheeky grin disappeared and he rolled his eyes. "Oh shush, you."