It was barely sunrise when Ori woke up. Sitting up in his bed, he peered through the darkness, able to see the outlines of his brothers as they slept. Unlike them, he had had trouble sleeping; they would be leaving Dale the next day to go back to Erebor, but he did not want to go. Not yet. Not when he had only seen a small portion of the market and parts of the Full Tankard. There was still so much left to see, left to do…
Slipping out of bed, he did his best to be quiet while getting dressed. Not that he needed to be quiet; when his brothers were in a safe environment, they slept quite heavily. It was as he was scrubbing his face and beard in the water basin, however, that Nori let out a particularly loud snore, startling him and making him knock over the pitcher of water. His eyes widening, he lunged forward, catching it just before it could hit the floor. Looking up, he watched as Nori rolled over, pulling the covers closer to his head. Dori, also, was still asleep.
He put the pitcher back on the table before moving to pull his boots on. After those, he fastened his belt around his waist and crept out of the room. Across the hall, he could hear Bifur's snoring and he chuckled; Bofur was probably having a hard time sleeping. He started to make his way down the hall, his nose picking up the smell of warmed alcohol. Making his way down the stairs, he sniffed the air again, smelling burning wood as well.
Much to Ori's surprise, Bofur was sitting in the common room, a large mug of tea in his hand and his feet propped up on the hearth. His hat was sitting on the table behind. He turned as the last two floorboards creaked under Ori's weight, a smile coming to his lips as he saw the younger dwarf.
"Wouldn't have expected you t' be up yet, lad," he said.
"I wasn't expecting you to be up, either," he admitted. Bofur motioned for him to sit on the chair beside him and he moved to do such. "Was it Bifur's snoring?"
He grinned behind his mug as he took a drink of tea. "You could hear it, could you?" Ori nodded. "No, it wasn't his snorin', though that's what kept me from goin' back to sleep. I had just gone t' bed so early last night, I guess it was time for me t' wake up."
Nodding in understanding, Ori shifted slightly. He hadn't ever really talked to Bofur without his brothers around; he knew he was a nice dwarf, it was just….his brothers normally did all the talking for him. Staring into the fire, he wondered if any of the staff was up yet, only to remember that Bofur was drinking tea, which either meant they were or he had broken into the kitchen.
"What about you, lad?"
"Hm?" He looked up, a slightly startled look on his face.
"Why are you up so early?" Another drink of tea. It wasn't a drink normally on a dwarf's menu, but it was good first thing in the morning.
"Oh…" he turned back towards the fire. "Well…I was hopin' to get some breakfast and go explore the city without my brothers."
Bofur tilted his head curiously. "Why's that?"
Ori shifted again. "Well…All this week, I've been havin' to follow them around and take their notes for them. It's quite boring, really."
He nodded. "Sounds like it. I was never really fond of all that tradin' business." Leaning back in the chair, he tilted his head back, feeling the muscles in his neck and shoulders stretch a bit. "Too much stuff t' keep track of."
"That's why I want t' get out of here before they wake up," Ori sighed. "I'm not interested in all that stuff. I mean, mum and dad had always tried to get me interested in it, t' keep up with the family business, but it was always Dori who was good at it. I'm just good at taking the notes…"
Bofur pointed at the larger of the two books hanging from Ori's belt. "So, I take it you'll plan on addin' a few more drawings to your collection then?" he asked, grinning slightly. He watched Ori's cheeks turn a light shade of pink.
"Maybe," he said, glancing away. His hands unconsciously held onto the book, thumbs running over the parchment pages. "It's fun drawin' things that aren't made by dwarrows. They've got so many different shapes to them. Kind of like drawin' people."
He quietly laughed before taking another drink of tea. "Anythin' else you'll do besides sit 'n draw?"
"Just explore," he replied, starting to lightly kick his feet. "Dale's interestin', especially with its layers."
"Hm? What d'ya mean, layers?" He looked at him curiously, a brow raised.
Ori continued to stare at the fire. "Well, you've got the first layer o' Dale –that's the layer of when it was first built. You see it mostly in the first floors o' the buildings; the white walls, the plaster, the red tiles…Then you've got the second layer. That's the layer that Smaug made when he terrorized the place. Half-destroyed buildings. Ruined pathways. Burnt things. Then there's the last layer, which is everythin' that's been rebuilt."
"Like our shop," Bofur stated before he could stop himself. "Or the Full Tankard."
"Or the market," Ori nodded. "Lots o' parts of the city are still in ruins because of how many lives were lost durin' the War. Not enough people t' fill them."
Bofur looked over at him, studying his face. The lad still stared at the fire, but his head was tilted and he had a sort of dazed look about him. He knew the look. The same look would come to Bifur's face when he was making toys; it also used to come to Thorin's face when he had been imagining their victory in reclaiming Erebor for the dwarves. He smiled fondly at Ori.
"You really enjoy bein' around this different place, don't you?" he asked.
As if realizing that he had been daydreaming, Ori looked down at his feet, his cheeks pink once again. "It's interestin' is all. I mean, we're dwarrows. We grew up with other dwarrows and we learned dwarrow culture. Learnin' about how other races live is jus'…interesting," he muttered.
"I don't blame you," he yawned. He made to take another drink of his tea only to find it gone. Frowning, he sat up. "You hungry, lad?"
"A little bit…"
Bofur stood and motioned for Ori to follow him. The two dwarves walked across the empty common room, towards the kitchen door. Pushing it open, Bofur stuck his head, Ori shoving his head in beneath his chin, and looked around. There were all sorts of shelves and counters in the kitchen, the former being filled to the brim with various sorts of food. Copper pots and iron pans hung from hooks in the ceiling while the larger, more-used pans hung above the hearth. In the center of the kitchen was a long, heavy table. It was at this table Baylee stood, kneading some sort of dough.
"Miss Baylee?" Bofur called. She looked up, some hair falling into her face. "Is it alright if I make myself more tea?"
"Feel free," she smiled. Bofur walked into the kitchen, Ori shyly trailing along behind him. "G'morning, Master Ori! Would you like anythin'?" She paused her kneading and flattened the dough out before spooning some dried fruit into it. Ori walked over and she glanced up, watching as he stood on tiptoe to peek over the jars and bowls in front of her work area.
"What are you makin'?" His head was tilted curiously as he watched her start to knead again.
"Fruit bread," she replied. She plucked up the spoon again and pressed it against the fruit in the bowl. Warm mead filled the spoon and she sprinkled it over the dough as her other hand continued to work. "It's the specialty here."
"It smells good," he told her, "though that could just be the mead." He smiled shyly as he glanced up at her.
She let out a small laugh. "Aye, it does smell good, doesn't it?"
Bofur grabbed a cloth and used it to lift the kettle from the coals. "This whole room smells delicious," he remarked. "If my brother, Bombur, were here, we'd have t' tie him up with chains t' keep him from eatin' everything in here." He poured the hot water into his mug, watching as the tea leaves floated to the top.
"Bombur's always hungry," Ori explained to Baylee.
"He's also about the size o' three of us put together," Bofur chuckled. "Widthwise, that is."
Plucking up the dough, she moved to set it in a clay pan that she had buttered. "He sounds like a fellow who certainly appreciates his food," she joked. Wiping her hands on her apron, she stepped off to the side of a large, metal door. "Lads may want t' back up a few paces; this oven's hot," she gently warned. As they did so, she threw open the door and quickly stepped back just as a wave of heat billowed out. The two dwarves watched as, for just a moment, the hot air made the area in front of the oven dance about.
"Huh. Not many human homes back near the Blue Mountains had ovens," Bofur mumbled.
"Not many here do, either," she answered, putting in two pans of bread. She had six more to put in. "Onl' us inn owners an' the king have them."
"Why the king?" Ori asked. "Does he do a lot of baking?"
Bofur stifled a laugh. "Because he has the money for it," he answered, patting Ori on the shoulder.
"Oh…Well, I'd imagine he does at least some baking of his own. I mean, the oven would go to waste then."
Baylee giggled as she put in the last two pans of bread. "No, Master Ori, he has servants who cook for him. Sort o' like how we cook your food here, only…more kingly, I guess." She closed the oven up, flinching as a part of her arm brushed against the hot metal. 'First burn of the day,' she thought. 'Hope it's the only one…' Turning, she looked down at the two dwarves who were watching her with interest. "So, you lads are hungry an' I'm free t' cook. What do ya want t' eat?"
The two dwarves began listing off the components they wanted in their meal, barely pausing to breathe. The trouble for Baylee, though, was that they were both speaking at the same time, making it more than a little difficult to decipher what they were saying besides the occasional 'Ooh, I'll have one o' that, too!' Chuckling, she held out her hands, bringing an end to their rambling.
"Calm down, lads, calm down," she laughed. "I can barely hear a word either o' you are sayin'. Now, Bofur, you first." Pulling over a stool, she sat down and crossed her arms on her knees, listening.
"I'll have three fried eggs, some bacon, some potatoes, maybe a couple o' biscuits…" he scratched his chin thoughtfully, "and to top it all off, how about a seed cake?"
She nodded slowly, looking at Ori. "And you?"
"A bowl o' porridge, two fried eggs, four sausages, and I'll have a seed cake as well, please." He smiled shyly.
Baylee nodded again and stood up, brushing her apron off. "Alright, though I warn ya –it may take me a bit o' time. Galiene, our cook, normally doesn't get in until the sun's nice 'n fully risen."
Bofur tilted his head, suddenly grinning; Baylee did not know whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. "Oh? Well, in that case, we'll help you!"
She blinked. "Y-you don't have to," she said. "I mean, you're guests here an' it's my job t' cook-"
"Nonsense!" He had already set his tea down and Ori was making for the pans above the fireplace. "You're the only one up, we want a lot o' food; it's the least we could do." He headed over to the pantry door and opened it. He was met by rows of shelves filled with cured, smoked, and salted meats as well as other such items that were needed in a kitchen. "Oh…I think I just found the mother lode." A silly grin was coming to his face.
"Don't stay in there too long!" Ori called, grabbing a coal scraper and using it to bring some red-hot coals under an iron grate. He set a frying pan atop the grate, letting it heat up. "You'll end up like Bombur!"
Baylee heard a laugh from the depths of the pantry and Bofur soon emerged, his arms laden with bacon, ham, potatoes, and ropes of sausage. "No, no –I know how t' treat a pantry!" he was saying as he carried his bounty over to the counter.
"Careful you don't drop the potatoes!" Baylee gently warned. She moved to get a knife so she could peel said spuds, but before she had the chance to go very far, Ori hurried past her, excusing himself. "Do you need me to grab you a pot for the porridge?" she asked, opening a drawer and pulling out a small knife.
"Don't worry, Miss Baylee," Ori smiled. "We've got it."
Bofur crouched down, his hands clasped in front of him, palms up. With a small hop, Ori leapt up (with surprising nimbleness for a dwarf) and, as his foot landed in Bofur's palms, the older dwarf gave him a toss into the air. As he reached the apex of his toss, he smacked the bottom of the largest pot, sending it flying off its hook. Bofur caught him before he could hit the ground and, holding out his hands, Ori grinned as the pot landed neatly in his arms.
"Nice one," is all Baylee could find herself saying. As Ori hurried back across the kitchen, she plucked up a bucket and sat down, intent on peeling the potatoes.
"Knives in this drawer?" Bofur asked, pointing at the drawer she had just opened.
"Aye," she said, starting to peel. She glanced up in time to see him grab their largest knife –a meat cleaver. "O-oh, that may be a bit too big, Bofur."
He shook his head, still wearing a grin. "It's just the right size." He made quick work of separating out four links of sausages and started to cut them into small rounds. "Ori!"
The younger dwarf quickly used the end of his tunic to grab the handle of the frying pan. He turned around just in time to catch all but two of the sausage rounds; they sizzled loudly as they hit the hot metal. The other two pieces landed on the floor at his feet and he picked them up after putting the pan back on the grate. Seeing that they had only the tiniest bit of dirt on them, he blew the specks off and added them back in. He grabbed a second pan, setting it over the grate as well.
"Is this how dwarves normally cook?" Baylee asked, working on her second potato.
"Hm?" Bofur glanced up at her. "What do you mean?"
She motioned at the two of them. "Hurrying about, tossing things through the air an' catchin' them. That sort of thing. Is that how you always do it?" Looking back down, she carved out a brown spot on the potato's surface.
He shrugged, slicing himself up some bacon. "Aye, I guess so," he chuckled. "I guess it helps get things done quicker. Ori, bacon!" He slid the slices of bacon onto the flat of the cleaver before flinging them across the room.
"I need a spatula, too!" He held up the second pan, catching the wad of bacon. Setting it back down, he used his fingers to separate out the pieces.
Bofur stood on his tiptoes, reaching over and sorting through various utensils that were in a jar. "Wood work?"
"Yes."
"Catch!" He tossed over a wooden spatula and Ori caught it, stirring the meats.
Laughing, Baylee stood up and set the potatoes on the counter. "See, there ya go with tossing things again!"
He beamed up at her. "A lot faster than walkin' it over to him, isn't it?" he joked. He watched as a bit of color came to her cheeks when she smiled back; probably from the heat of the kitchen, he supposed. It was getting rather warm. "I'll cut up the potatoes. Why don't you start on the porridge?" Before she could refuse his offer, he took the potatoes from her and shooed her off.
It was the sight of Bofur tossing eggs over to Ori while Baylee stirred a bubbling pot of porridge that Will walked in on. He blinked, having to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things; he wasn't. Baylee turned and, spotting him, gave him a small wave.
"Morning, Will," she chirped. "You hungry?"
He watched as Ori slid some pieces of crispy sausage onto a plate before pouring cubs of potato into the same pan. "Er…Yes, I am," he said. "Baylee, quick question."
"There are dwarves in our kitchen because they're helpin' me cook," she answered, as if reading his mind. "Let me guess, you want yourself a nice big bowl o' porridge an' three fried eggs on top?"
Will frowned. "How did you know?"
"One, you're my brother an' I know what you like. Two, you're starin' at the eggs Ori's fryin' up." Ori glanced up, his cheeks red from the heat of the fire. He gave Will a shy wave before moving to carefully put the finished eggs on a different plate.
"Have you even eaten?" He sniffed the air and wandered over to the oven. Opening the latch, he peeked in. "These are almost done, 'Lee."
She sprinted over, shoving a wooden spoon in his hand before pushing him towards the porridge. Opening the oven door, she ducked as a wave of heat came out. William shook his head, moving to stir the porridge.
"That'll be a no then," he murmured. He tilted his head; the porridge seemed to be missing something, but he wasn't sure what. Looking up at Ori, he smiled tiredly. "So, what brings you two lil' masters into our humble kitchen this early in the morning?"
"Well," began Ori, "we like a lot o' food with our breakfast and since Miss Baylee is only one person, we decided to help her out." He cracked a few extra eggs into the pan as Bofur came over. "That one there," he quietly told him, pointing at the empty pan.
"How much bacon do you think she likes?" he asked, his voice also quiet.
Ori glanced over his shoulder at the young woman. "Hmm…Five? She's always runnin' around this place; she could use the extra food."
Bofur nodded in agreement, laying the slices of bacon in the bottom of the pan. "Egg's ready to flip," he murmured, pointing.
"Oh, thank you." He moved to flip the eggs, being careful to not break the yolk.
William raised his brow as he watched the two. While he couldn't hear them, he knew they were up to something. Just what, though, he couldn't tell. Through the racket going on, the sound of a key in a lock went unheard, so when the back door opened and Galiene and her nephew, Gawen, stepped in, everyone was more than a little surprised –including the two walking in.
"What's all this goin' on in my kitchen?" she demanded, hands moving to her hips.
Almost instantly, Will pointed accusingly at Baylee, earning an 'Oi!' in protest. "All her! Not me! I'm just stirrin' the porridge!"
Baylee rolled her eyes. "We're not ten anymore, fish brains." She smiled apologetically at the cook as she pulled the last two loaves of bread out of the oven. "I got some help makin' breakfast is all. Don't worry; we're almost done."
"Actually, we are done," Ori beamed.
Turning around, she saw the two dwarves setting their food onto platters. They had even cleaned up their work area, leaving her rather surprised. Galiene, too, seemed impressed that none of the cooking implements had been damaged.
"And we also made up your and Will's breakfast," Bofur said, walking over a plate of eggs, bacon, and seed cake to her. "Don't want you two goin' hungry, after all. Especially if he's-" he pointed his thumb at William, "-is goin' to be helping me an' Bifur all day."
Once more, Baylee's cheeks darkened as she took the plate from him. "Th-thank you," she smiled.
"You're welcome, Miss Baylee," he said with a grin before following Ori out of the kitchen, making sure to grab his tea.
It was noon and the sky was overcast, with the clouds threatening to release the rain they had built up. Ignoring this, Ori was sitting on a bit of rubble in one of the unrepaired districts of the city, his sketchbook propped open on his legs. He glanced up, checking the angle on the half-destroyed well in front of him. Translating it onto the page, he grinned, adding in a few more small details. Leaning back, he looked between his drawing and the well many times before deciding that he had added enough details to make it recognizable. Smiling proudly, he tucked his pencil into the crease of the book and closed it, wrapping it tightly before once more tucking it into his belt.
'That was a good warm up,' he thought to himself. Sliding off of the short wall, he looked around. There was no one around, leaving him quite alone. 'This is rather nice,' he thought. 'No Nori or Dori around to boss me about or to tell me to pull my hood up…' He started down the street, feeling rather independent and proud of himself.
As he walked, he reached out, letting his hand trail against the walls of buildings. The white stone was long faded to yellow and light brown. In some places, huge clouds of black marred their surface, their doors and windows charred. He frowned, knowing full well that the marks had been the work of Smaug years and years ago. Pulling his hand back, he looked at his fingertips, finding them light grey with soot.
'Still dirty after all the years of rain and sun?' he thought, rubbing his fingers together. He brushed them off on his jacket. 'Curious. When folk come to live here again, they'll need to scrub the walls before painting them…'
After walking down a few streets, he found himself in the main square of Dale. Here was a wide, open area filled with people. Children were running about, playing, while their parents or older siblings sat around the large fountain in the center of the square. Ori had seen this fountain a few times over the last couple of days, but he had never gotten the chance to see it up close. A small grin came to his face and he started to make his way through the crowds of people, doing his best to be polite when needing to push past someone.
At last, he came to the fountain. He stared up in wonder; he could tell it was most definitely crafted by dwarves. Humans, he knew, could make fountains, but nothing of this sort. For one, this fountain had no seams, meaning it was carved out of a single piece of marble. Secondly, it had been fashioned into the shape of a great warrior, his cloak wafting behind him. So perfect was the craftsmanship, Ori thought that the warrior would spring to life at any second.
He sat down on its edge, pulling out his sketchbook.
Ori did not know how long he sat there, but by the time his back started to ache, it was well into the afternoon and he had drawn the entirety of the fountain. He looked around, his cheeks red as he realized that a few humans –both adult and children- and some fellow dwarves were watching him, intrigued by how absorbed he had gotten in the drawing.
"That's good drawing you've got there, little master," an older man complimented. "You've got an eye for detail, though I suppose most dwarves do."
His cheeks still red, Ori managed a shy smile. "Thank you, sir," he said. He glanced down at his hand, finding the side of his left hand covered in grey dust; one of the problems of being left handed.
"Have ya gone to the old bell tower?" he asked. "I'm sure you'd enjoy the view. Y'can see the whole city from up there, as well as Erebor. Quite pretty, really, even with all the ruins."
Ori curiously tilted his head. "Where is the bell tower?" he asked, closing the sketchbook up and putting it away.
The old man used a walking staff to point towards the western part of town. "That tall tower there, near the gate. It's a bit o' a climb, but very much worth it."
He nodded in understanding. "I think I'll go there after I have a spot o' lunch. Thank you." The old man
nodded, wishing him a good day before the dwarf wandered off. As he came near the edge of the square, he saw the building that Bifur and Bofur had bought and, for a moment, wondered if he should go in. However, a loud crash of wood followed by something being called in Khuzdul made him change his mind.
'They've got that big lad in there helping them,' he thought, hurrying past. Coming into the market, he was met by all sorts of different sights and smells. His stomach grumbled loudly, startling him. 'I guess I should buy something to eat…'
After some exploration, he found himself munching on a meat pie with three more tucked away in his pocket. He had found it curious that the human markets had people wandering about, offering free samples of food from various vendors. In dwarvish custom, people only gave out free food if they were extremely rich and had uneaten food ready to spoil. The food he also found curious; the meat pies he had bought would normally be found in the pockets of miners, not ordinary folk.
He was in rather good spirits as he came to the edge of town, finding the bell tower before him. It was different from the rest of Dale, in that it was circular and had stairs carved into its outer wall. The bell, from what he saw, was supported by a landing at the very top of the building. No wall hid the bell or the landing above it, allowing its tolling to be heard for miles around should the need arise.
'That's a lot of stairs,' he thought, looking up. 'Nothing I can't handle.' Pulling out his second pie, he started to both eat and climb. By the time he reached the top, all his pies were gone and he felt a bit breathless; the steps were steep, making it hard to eat and walk at the same time. But he felt truly breathless when he walked to one of the wooden railings and, standing on his tiptoes, peered over the edge.
"Now that's a sight for sore eyes," he mumbled to himself, his eyes wide in awe.
The old man had been right –he could see the entire city and the lands surrounding it, including his hard-won home of Erebor. The clouds above parted, letting sun bathe the land in its warm light and giving everything a cheery, yellow glow. He was just about to pull out his sketchbook and start drawing for the third time that day, but something nearing the wall of the city caught his eye. Hoisting himself up a bit more, he peered down at the road and squinted. There was a large group of people coming up to the western gate –at least fifty of them, more than half on horses.
"Elves," he murmured, somewhat distastefully.
He knew full well that the elves were friendly –for the most part. But little love was shared between dwarves and elves and even now, Ori felt wary about the elves coming in to Dale, despite their help during the War. Though, he had to admit one thing –they were decent enough folk.
Elrond had put up with their shenanigans in Rivendell.
Thranduil had laid Orcrist on Thorin's breast when he was laid to rest.
A small frown came to his features as he turned his gaze towards the mountain. It stood tall and mighty, an impenetrable fortress that took centuries to carve –and yet, it still held fast, even with the havoc Smaug had wrecked inside. But over the last five years, it had been cleaned up and made livable. Dwarves had returned to their ancestral homes and, for them, it was a comfortable place to live.
Shaking his head to clearing it of any thoughts, he finally pulled out his sketchbook and started to draw.
The Full Tankard was crowded.
A group of fifteen elves, remembering the good food and drink of the inn from before the War had stopped in to pay their patronage for the night. As such, many humans had flocked to the inn's common room so that they could eat, drink, and be merry with the fair folk. And eating and drinking they were: Galiene had to pull Warren and Gawen in from the stables while Wenna, Baylee, Demelza, and Peter (another lad who normally worked in the stables) hurried about, delivering food and refilling drinks.
"This is crazy," Galiene said as Baylee and Wenna came in, trays laden with dirty dishes. She was chopping up an onion. "I don't remember the last time our inn was this full!" Scooping the diced onion up, she carried it over to a heated pan and dumped it in. Even with the doors closed, the music and loud laughter from the common room was able to fill the kitchen up.
"It's like they don't have an end to their stomachs," Wenna panted, leaning against the counter. This was her first time having experienced such a crowd; she had only been hired a year ago. "They keep orderin' more 'n more!"
Baylee grabbed some freshly-washed bowls from Gawen. The poor lad was doing his best to keep up. "So long as they don't throw up on us, that's just fine by me." She blew her bangs out of her face before filling the bowls with rabbit stew. "How're the chickens comin'?"
"Almost ready," Warren replied. "An' the sucklin' pig is just about done, too. Its skin needs t' crisp up a bit more."
Wenna raised her brow. "Who ordered the pig?"
"The dwarf lads," Baylee answered, putting the stew bowls on her platter. "The elves have the four chickens an' two plates o' sausages."
Wenna nodded, moving to fill a bowl with salad greens. "An' eight potatoes, three loaves o' bread, stewed vegetables, two blocks o' cheese, an', to top it all off, biscuits!" she added. "I thought elves were supposed to be delicate?"
At her comment, the other four let out loud laughs.
"These elves are from the court o' King Thranduil," Warren grinned. He looked somewhat menacing as he spoke, for he was holding the meat cleaver and butchering some steaks to be cooked.
"They're anythin' but delicate," Baylee told her.
She frowned, looking at the two of them in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"They love their drink and fun." Galiene took the bowl from her and sprinkled some sliced celery root into it. "Imagine the dwarves, only…cleaner."
Baylee pouted. "The lads are fairly clean! Aye, they make a mess while eatin', but they clean it up." She grabbed a loaf of bread from the shelf only to find that it was still piping. She winced, but ignored the pain as she added it to her platter along with a block of cheese and a small knife. Plucking the platter up, she hurried out of the door and back into the loud common room.
Weaving her way around the tables and half-intoxicated men and women, she was finally able to deliver the bread to a table where some young women were sitting –right next to the table of elves. They were giggling flirtatiously as a few of the elven men spoke with them. As Baylee put the bread and cheese down, one of the elves –a female who wore a captain's crest around her neck- set her hand on her shoulder.
She smiled apologetically. "Lady Baylee, I'm in need of a refill," she said, having to raise her voice to be heard over the music. She held up an empty wine chalice.
Baylee smiled, taking the cup from her. "Alright. I'll have it t' ya in just a moment." Tucking the platter under her arm, she wormed her way back through the crowd to the bar. There was Peter, doing his best to fill up mugs so that they wouldn't be half-full of foam.
"Tilt the mug jus' a wee bit more," she told him, moving towards a wine barrel. As the wine started to flow from the tap, Demelza appeared, more empty mugs and goblets in her arms. "Let me guess…the elves?"
She nodded. "An' more are comin'. The whole table was out."
A hand going to her hip, Baylee shoved some hair from her face and let out a heavy sigh. "Alright. Get me another platter."
Peter frowned, glancing back at her and watching as she twisted her braid around the top of her head. "What? What d'you mean, get you another platter?"
"Just that," she told him. "As crazy as this place is right now, I can't waste time goin' back 'n forth two or three times t' just one table." She started to fill the mugs -some with wine, others with mead, and still more with beer. Peter ran off with his single mug before returning to help her fill up the rest.
Demelza shook her head. "You'll spill 'em all, 'Lee," she murmured, moving to find a third platter. By the time she got back, Baylee was filling her last mug with some beer. She didn't have time to stop long, though, because Warren shouted for someone to come 'get these chickens before I eat 'em all!'.
Baylee lined up the three platters, doing her best to evenly distribute the fifteen drinking vessels amongst them. Peter lifted the lightest platter, carefully balancing it atop her head as she stood up as straight as she could.
"Are you sure about this?" He nervously placed the other two trays on her palms.
"I've done it before."
"With bread 'n cheese, not full glasses o' drink."
She managed a confident grin. "What, you don't have faith in me?"
His brow rose. "Not entirely."
Smirking, she started to walk. The tray atop her head wobbled, but was kept in place by her braid. She bit her tongue, her eyes glancing up at it as took a few more steps forward.
It was as she came out from behind the bar that Bofur saw her. He could barely see her through the crowd (after all, they were both shorter than most everyone there), but her yellow and green dress stuck out through all the darker, earthier colors that the human patrons wore. His head cocked to the side, amazed that she could do such a feat. Her path, he saw, was blocked by some man tilting his chair back for no apparent reason and another bloke scooting his chair back for more leg room. He frowned; didn't they see Baylee?
Scrambling onto his chair and drawing confused looks from his companions and the nearby humans, Bofur cupped his hands over his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he shouted above the roar of the crowd:
"GET OUT O' HER WAY!"
The music faltered for a minute, the musicians startled by how loud a single dwarf could be. Those who had stood in Baylee's path suddenly took notice of her and apologized, quickly clearing off and letting her pass by. As she made it to the elven group, a loud cheer went up and the music started again; she hadn't spilled a drop of alcohol. Sorting out the drinks for the elves, she tiredly smiled as they congratulated her on her balancing skills and thanked her for the drinks. She could only nod in reply.
Pulling away from the elves, she went to the dwarves, finding that their roast pig and other food had arrived. Ori, she saw, was still missing, but the rest did not seem terribly worried over his whereabouts. Setting her hand on Bofur's shoulder, she leaned down next to him so he could hear her.
"What's your favorite breakfast?" she asked. She could see bits of wood and plaster in his hair and beard, but he was not nearly as dirty has he had been two days ago.
He looked at her, a bit taken aback. "Pardon me?" he asked, his hand half-way between his place and the pig's left hind leg.
"What's your favorite breakfast, lad?" she asked again, smiling. "After what ya did, I'm goin' t' make sure ya get it in the mornin'."
He blinked, a large grin slowly coming across his lips. "Well, one can't argue with food…" he joked. "Toast, ham, some fried eggs, bacon, biscuits with sausage gravy, 'n some blackberry jam."
She nodded, committing it to memory. "Got it. Whenever ya get up in the mornin', I'll be sure t' get it whipped up for you." She stood upright again. "Anythin' else you lads are needin'?"
Dori shook his head, smiling up at her. Past the smile, though, she could tell he was a little nervous; probably Ori's whereabouts. "We're good for now, Miss Baylee," he told her. He glanced past her, the smile failing slightly at the elves. "Though, if you happen to spot Ori, you may want to tell him that he'll be in for the scoldin' of his life."
She let out a small, somewhat nervous, laugh, nodding in understanding. "Aye, I'll be sure t' warn him." She headed back into the kitchen, her three trays tucked under her arm. "How're things back here?"
"Finally at a slower pace," her father answered. He wiped some sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt, leaning against the counter. "They're startin' t' get full."
"Good," she yawned. "D'ya think it's slow enough for me t' get a few minutes o' fresh air?"
Warren glanced over at Galiene, who had started helping Gawen with the dishes. She nodded. "She's been workin' since this morning," Galiene told him. "Give her a break. Actually, give them all a break. If anyone needs anythin', they know where the kitchen is."
He grinned, nodding. "You heard her, 'Lee. Go get some fresh air."
Thanking the two of them, she went out the back door and was greeted by cool night air. Goosebumps covered her skin as she shivered, but the cold was welcomed; it was starting to become stuffy inside. Sighing, she crossed the yard and leaned against the forge wall.
"I told you! I don't have any money! Even if I did, I wouldn't be givin' it to nasty people like you!"
"Here that, blokes? 'E called us nasty!"
Baylee frowned, hearing two or three different laughs. 'What in the world?' she thought. As quietly as she could, she crept around the side of the building, her body pressed against the wall.. Peeking around the corner, she could see three boys, all in their mid teens, huddled around Ori, who was pinned to the ground against the wall by the oldest boy.
"What's this, eh?" The boy snatched a book from Ori's hands and haphazardly opened it. "Looks like this fella fancies himself a bit o' an artist, 'e does!" He snickered, tossing the book to one of his friends, ignoring Ori's plea to give it back.
"Frederick Potts!" Baylee came out from behind the corner, startling the group of boys. Storming over to them, she grabbed their leader by the ear, painfully twisting it. The others started to run, but she grabbed the back of one of their shirts. She did not care that both were taller than her; they were as skinny as twigs, leaving her with some advantage over them. "Bartholomew Twain…why, when your parents hear that you've been harassin' our customers again –an' a noble dwarf for tha' matter!- they are goin' t' give you the whallopin' o' your lives!" she snapped, her eyes narrowed.
The two struggled against her, cursing and trying to smack her away from them. "We was only havin' some fun!" Frederick cried. "We didn't mean no harm!"
"Fun for you maybe!" Ori argued. He crawled forward, grabbing his fallen sketchbook. "And you did too mean to harm me. You had told that one to get ready for a fight!"
Bartholomew grunted, squirming still. "We wasn't really going to fight you!"
"A likely story," Baylee snapped. "Y'know, both your fathers are in that common room an' they're feelin' mighty spirited tonight!" She shoved them to the ground, glaring at them. "So you best get runnin' home before I tell them what just happened. Oh, it'll be hell for the two o' you when they hear!" She smirked as the two teens took off at a dead run down the street.
Ori clutched his sketchbook to his chest, his cheeks red from embarrassment. "Th-thank you, Miss Baylee," he told her, looking at the ground. He felt silly for being unable to defend himself against three boys; after all, he could have probably taken them out rather easily. He probably weighed as much as the three of them put together.
She knelt down, her hand on his shoulder. "Are you hurt?" she quietly asked, a look of concern on her face. He shook his head. "Pride just dented a wee bit?" He nodded and she smiled reassuringly. "Don't you worry about it. I catch those idiots at least twice a month tryin' to harass our customers, so you're by far not the first an' certainly aren't the last, even with the trouble they'll be in."
He managed a smile as he glanced up at her. "Still…thank you."
"It's no trouble," she assured him. She tilted her head, able to see black smudges all over his nose and cheeks. "What's that you've got all over your face?" Out of habit, she plucked up the hem of her skirt and started trying to wipe it away.
"Oh…it's probably just lead," he answered. "I was drawing all day. It gets all over my hand because I'm a leftie."
She nodded in understanding, finding it futile to try wiping it away in the dark. "Well then, let's get you inside an' cleaned up." As she stood, she offered him a hand up. "Though, I warn ya: From what I hear, you're t' be expectin' quite a scoldin' from your brothers for bein' gone so long." She led him into the inn yard.
"I don't doubt it," he sighed. "They don't like it when I go off on my own, but hearing them talk business for four days straight just got so boring." He tilted his head, able to hear the music inside. "It sounds busy in there."
"Oh, it has been. A group o' elves came in and ever since then, we've been at maximum capacity, I'm sure."
He paused. "Elves?"
She looked back at him. "Aye, elves. They like t' visit us sometimes; we get their favorite wine."
He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Have my brothers caused any…trouble with them at all?" Peeking back at her, he bit his lower lip.
Baylee shook her hair. "No, they haven't. An' if they tried, well…Papa an' Will would stop 'em, I'm sure."
He nodded, starting to follow her again. "Good. We're supposed to be at peace with them, even if we don't like 'em much…wouldn't be good to stir up trouble."
She led him over to the well, pulling up a bucket of water. "If anythin', it's the humans stirrin' trouble. They keep drinkin' more 'n more, tryin' t' keep up with the elves an' failing. Of course, your brothers an' Bifur an' Bofur have already surpassed the elves with their drinkin'." She sat him down on the edge of the well and started to properly clean off his face, once more using the hem of her skirt.
"Humans can't really hold their liquor. No offense, Miss Baylee."
A laugh left her mouth. "None taken. I can onl' have two mugs o' beer before I start wobbling about." She was surprised at how easily the lead came off of his skin; she barely had to rub the cloth to get it off.
"I don't suppose you do much drinking, though. You're always running around, serving others." He scrunched his nose up slightly as she cleaned off the tip of his nose. "That doesn't leave you much time t' relax."
She nodded, wringing the bit of her skirt out and letting it fall back to the ground. "That is true. It'd be nice t' have more help on nights like this; we had to pull in our stable hands to help. But, most nights we're not terribly busy. Twenty, thirty people at the most…"
He cocked his head, watching as she sent the bucket of water back down into the well. "How often do you have nights this crowded?"
"Oh, maybe two, three times a month? Rarely this crowded, though. This many people only come when we've elves as our guests." They both jumped as a roar erupted inside the inn. "Uh oh…best go see what's going on…"
Ori followed just a few steps behind her as she hurried into the kitchen. As they came out into the common room, they found some men and elves pushing tables off to the sides of the room. Poking his head from behind her, Ori could see his companions and brothers near the fire, Bifur with a clarinet in hand while Nori and Dori had flutes; Bofur was chatting happily with them as he drank from a mug. Ori could also see the elves grinning, a few of them producing harps and flutes of their own.
"You best go eat somethin' before that table is cleared off," Baylee told him, pointing at the dwarf's table. "Looks like they left ya a nice helpin' o' food." She smiled as Ori hurried off, dashing across the common room so he wouldn't get trapped. Someone set their hand on her shoulder and she looked up, seeing her brother. "There ya are. Where've you been all night?"
"Bathin'," he chuckled. "Looks like I got out just in time, though. I love a good party."
She shook her head, laughing. "O' course you do. You're one o' the best dancers in the city."
"Well, mum an' dad did teach us well," he grinned, leaning on her shoulder.
"Us?" she asked, cocking a brow. "No, no –you got all o' the dancin' skills, lad."
"You're a rather fair dancer yourself," he grinned. He gaze returned to the crowd.
The dwarves started stamping their feet on the floor rhythmically. There was a light drumming noise, like cutlery on plates, and the three dwarves began playing a fast, lighthearted tune. The elves soon joined in, their music beckoning people to start dancing.
Grinning, Will scooped up his sister and, with a small yelp from her, pulled her onto the dance floor. It was an amusing sight, since Baylee was so small compared to him, but as the two of them twirled about the room, more folk joined in. Soon enough, almost everyone in the inn was dancing about, switching their partners or twirling them around when the songs called for it. It would be a night that many would remember for quite some time.
That is, if they were sober enough to remember it.