"No. Absolutely not."
"But why not? I'm nearly seventy; I'm old enough to go out on my own!"
"Oh, no you're not! Do you know how dangerous it is out there? You can't go until you're eighty at the least!"
"But Nori went out an' started adventuring when he was forty! I'm just goin' to be stayin' here in Dale! How dangerous can that possibly be?"
"Plenty, if you're not street smart."
"And how am I supposed t' get street smart if I'm never left alone to learn?"
Nori looked between his brothers as they argued. Across from him, Dori was fuming as he stared at Ori, who had a surprisingly defiant look on his face. "I'm on Ori's side," he said at last, going back to eating his eggs.
Dori looked at him, aghast. "Bu-but he's too young, Nori!" he cried. "The lad hardly remembers to grab his hood before he heads outside, let alone knows how to take care of himself!"
Nori rolled his eyes, sighing. "Like he said, he's nearly seventy. He's not a young whelp anymore. The lad can handle his own."
"You're only saying that because you went out when you were just forty. Why your father let you do that, I'll never know, because mine certainly wouldn't have…"
Nori sighed, shoving a piece of toast into Dori's mouth, both startling him and quieting him up. "Ori was a part of Thorin's company, just like you 'n me. Not only that, but he fought valiantly against our enemies in the War. All of those, in my eyes, make him an adult." He took a drink of his ale, noticing the somewhat defeated look coming to Dori's face as he ate the toast. "Give him a chance, Dori. Bifur and Bofur are here anyway. They can help keep an eye on him."
"See?" Ori chirped. "If'n Nori of all people thinks I'm ready, then I'm ready!"
Rubbing his forehead, Dori stabbed at his gravy-slathered biscuits. "Why couldn't you have brought this up sooner?" he grumbled. "Then we could have made some sort of arrangement so you at least have a place to stay!"
"I can stay here still, in Bifur and Bofur's room," Ori replied. "They've got three beds; I'm sure they wouldn't mind if'n I asked."
"You'll need more money."
"I've only spent two silvers out o' the bag you gave me." He wore a smug grin. "If I spend it wisely, I'll have more than enough t' last me the two weeks I want to stay here." He tossed some fried potatoes into his mouth.
Dori shook his head, cursing under his breath. "Fine," he said after many minutes. "Fine! But you best be on your best behavior. And make sure to wear your hood when you go out; it's still early spring. And if we hear from Bifur or Bofur that you've been up to anything unpleasant-"
"Dori…" Nori gave him a long look as he chewed a piece of toast.
"What?"
He took another bite, this time out of a sausage. "You're doing it again."
The eldest brother frowned, paying no heed as Ori reached over, stealing some of his gravy for his potatoes. "Doing what again?"
"Mothering him."
"I am not mothering him."
"You are too mothering him."
"I am not!"
Nori smirked and started to make a clucking noise like a chicken. Tucking his hands into his arm pits, he waved his arms about as if they were wings and bobbed his head, 'bocking' now. With his rather pointed hair, the chicken-like effect was rather comical. "Ori! Don't do this! Ori! Don't do that!" he 'squawked'. "Ori, put your hood up!"
Dori rolled his eyes and thwacked him over the head; Ori was doing his best to not choke on his food as he laughed. "Oh, stop it! You're making yourself look like an idiot." Nori was, in fact, drawing some looks from the other patrons –namely, the elves who had spent the night. "I already said he could stay. End of discussion."
Ori was beaming as he took a rather victorious gulp from his beer. Of course, the broad smile led to a bit of alcohol dribbling down his chin. Dori instinctively grabbed his napkin and moved to wipe it away, but, seeing the smirk on Nori's lips, he quickly sat back down, pouting at his biscuits and wondering why he had less gravy than three minutes ago.
Meanwhile, Bofur was sitting in the kitchen, watching as Baylee cooked his breakfast. It had been an early morning for him once again; the sun was only just barely peeking over the horizon. After the party the previous night, it was a wonder he was awake at all; he was sure he had at least four mugs of ale. Then again, it was a wonder anyone was awake at this time –except the elves. They never really needed rest.
He took a sip of his tea, his head tilted as he watched Baylee disappear into the pantry for a few minutes. When she came out, she had an uncut leg of smoked ham and a large brick of bacon in her arms. The ham was so large, he was sure the pig it had come from had been big enough to ride into battle.
"Are you positive you don't need any help?" he asked.
"I'm sure," she replied, shoving some hair out of her face. "But if it makes ya feel better, the gravy could use stirrin'." She held a hand to her mouth as she yawned, shaking her head slightly afterwards. "Did ya enjoy the spur-of-the-moment party last night?" she asked, glancing at him as he went over to the fireplace.
He grinned, nodding heartily. "Of course! Can't say I was expecting it; I didn't know elves could be so playful." He had noticed that her eyes were rather red, like she had been crying…yet, she had been all smiles just like every other morning this week. 'Maybe she had gotten smoke in her eyes is all,' he thought. 'After all, making fires means getting smoke in the eyes…'
"Oh, there's almost always some sort o' party happenin' when they come into town." She fetched herself a knife from the drawer.
His head tilted curiously. "Really?" When she wasn't looking, he lifted the spoon and swiped his finger through the gravy, tasting it. Hm. It needed pepper. "I knew they liked t' drink a lot, but not party…"
Laughing, she lightly shrugged. "Normally, drinking an' partying go hand'n'hand." She held up about four thick slices of meat. "Is this good?"
"Aye," he grinned. It was probably more than enough, but what did it matter? Bifur or Nori would steal some anyway. "So, is that three-platter trick o' yours reserved for party nights only?" he asked jokingly.
Her cheeks turned pink and she started to slice the bacon. "No, I do it sometimes when Wenna or Demelza are out sick. Normally, it's with light loads, though –bread, cheese, a salad here or there. Last night was the first time I've tried it with drinks."
Bofur slowly nodded, taking another drink of his mug. He noticed that the table came up to about her waist; on other humans, it'd be at their hips. 'Then again,' he told himself, 'she is kind of small for a human. But strong. Wonder if she's got dwarf in her?' That he doubted; there were only a handful of dwarf-human relationships recorded throughout dwarvish history. Human women simply weren't hardy enough for the tastes of most males.
"So there was a high chance of disaster last night if I hadn't gotten the path t' clear for you?" he asked, grinning. She nodded, walking over with the slabs of meat. "Does that make me a bit o' a hero, then?"
His words earned another giggle as she set a skillet over the coals, next to his pot of gravy. "Aye, I guess it does." Laying out the slices of bacon, she was forced to use another pan for the ham, having to scrape more coals out of the fire and under the grate. "Sir Bofur o' the Full Tankard," she teased, "Clearer o' Floors."
"Ooh, catchy title!" he grinned. "May have t' use that somewhere in the sign for our shop." He stirred the gravy again. "Do you think this needs pepper?"
She ran her finger over the back of the spoon as he held it up. Tasting it, she raised her brow. "Aye, it does, but it should get that pepper when the sausage is added. Speakin' of which…" Hurrying across the kitchen, she grabbed a set of two bowls, one of which held the sausage she had cooked earlier.
"That's an interesting device," Bofur commented, watching as she lifted the smaller bowl and dumped the meat into the gravy. The smaller bowl had many little holes poked through it while the larger one held all the grease and fat that the sausage had cooked in. "Who came up with that?" He stirred the gravy around, making sure to get the sausage well incorporated.
Pouring the liquid fat into the waste bucket, she shrugged. "I'm not sure, honestly. I know papa made it, but he says it wasn't his idea. Mighty handy, though." They paused, hearing a clucking noise coming from the common room. Her brow rose as she poked at the meat. "Did…someone let a chicken loose…?"
Bofur shook his head, knowing the sound well enough. "That'll be Nori. He does that when Dori tries t' mother Ori," he explained, leaning against the bricks. "I'm guessin' Ori finally told them he wants to stay here," he thought aloud.
"Ori wants to stay here?" she repeated. "Why's that?"
"He likes Dale. Says it's a lot more interesting than Erebor. Can't blame him much for thinkin' so; the lad's never been around so many humans for so long. He has Dori to thank for that." He finished his tea.
She nodded in understanding. 'He didn't tell them about last night then,' she thought. 'Or else they would have never let him stay…' Stepping away from the fire, sigh fanned herself off with her hand. "Well, he's not too young, is he? I mean, he can't be younger 'n sixty?"
"I think he's about sixty-seven or thereabouts," he nodded. "He was the youngest in the company, too. Don't know how Dori let him come with us; probably thought Ori's dad wasn't able to take good enough care of him…"
She gave him a curious look. "Company?"
"Oh, aye, we all were part o' the Company o' Thorin Oakenshield," he explained. He didn't seem to mind the shocked look she was giving him. "Thirteen o' us there were. Well, fourteen includin' Mr. Baggins, our burglar, but he wasn't a dwarf. Nope. He was a hobbit." A fond, reminiscent smile came to his lips as he remembered all of his companions. Some of them returned to the Blue Mountains after the war had been won and it had been a long while since he had seen them.
Baylee watched him for a moment as he spaced out into his thoughts. She flipped over the bacon and ham, moving to grab a plate and some eggs. "I never expected t' be servin' some of Thorin's companions," she said at last.
"Hm?" He shook his head, braids and mustache bouncing slightly. "Why's that?"
"Well, I always thought you lot were high rankin' nobles an' knights or somethin'. After all, no one ever imagines ordinary folk being able t' reclaim entire kingdoms."
He smiled at her as she plated the meat. "But it's those folk who make the best stories, isn't it?" A quiet laugh left his mouth and he stirred the gravy before tasting it again. "Ah, there we go. Perfect amount o' pepper now." He offered her the spoon.
As she ran her finger through the gravy again, Will stepped in. His brow rose as he saw the two by the hearth and he quietly moved to get himself some tea. "Y'know, Baylee," he suddenly said, making her jump, "we're supposed t' cater to the customers, not let them help."
"Oh, like you tend t' the customers anyway," she lightly teased, cracking an egg into the hot bacon fat. "Bofur's just providin' me with some company while I make him breakfast. Be a lad an' get me some blackberry jam from the cellar, will you?" She cracked two more eggs into the pan.
"Company, huh? Dori, Nori, an' Ori too busy eating to talk to you?" he joked, kneeling down. He grabbed a metal ring in the floor and lifted a trapdoor.
"Ori had some business t' discuss with his brothers," Bofur answered as Will started down the stairs. "How're you feelin'? Ready t' knock down a wall?"
Will snorted. "After last night, I only want to go back to bed!" he called up. "What kind of jam did you say, 'Lee?"
"Blackberry." She carefully flipped the eggs over, doing her best to not break the yolk. She frowned; two of the three broke. "Sorry, Bofur…" she murmured, cheeks turning pink.
He waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, it's no trouble. I could never flip them right either," he assured her. "And look, you've got one that didn't break!" He beamed up at her, making her smile.
"Aha!" they heard Will cry…before there came a loud thunk as he hit his head on a low beam. "Ow. I'm fine." He came crawling back up the ladder, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand, a jar clutched in his fingers. His brow rose slightly as he saw the pinkness of his sister's cheeks, though his grin turned into a small frown as he saw her red eyes. "Baylee, can I talk to ya a moment?"
"Can it wait?" she asked. "I'm almost done here." She set the eggs on the plate before going to grab three, still-warm biscuits she had made that morning.
"Aye, it can," he said, setting the jam down and grabbing the tea kettle. By the time his tea had finished steeping, Bofur was walking out of the kitchen with an extremely full plate of food and a fresh mug of tea. "Now are you free to talk?"
She nodded, looking up at him innocently as she cleaned up the mess she had made. "What is it?"
"Why are your eyes red?" he asked, adding some honey into his mug. He watched as she looked away, cheeks darkening. "Baylee…"
Wiping some flour from the table and into her hand, she let out a heavy sigh. "I had another nightmare."
"I didn't hear you-"
"That's because I've learned t' wake myself up before…the end o' them." Dumping the flour into the waste bucket, she shook her head. "I'm fine. Just a little tired. Ya don't need t' worry."
He set his hand on her shoulder. "I always worry 'bout you –especially when you have those damned things. Your memory is so good, it's always in perfect detail. It can't be healthy, 'Lee."
"Healthy or not, I can't keep myself from havin' them," she grumbled, rubbing her temple. Letting out another sigh, she looked up at his scarred face and smiled reassuringly. "I'm fine, I promise. I'll just go t' bed early tonight."
He lightly pressed his fist into her shoulder, grinning. "Good. We don't need you—"
"Mahalu-me turg!" Bifur's voice suddenly interrupted. Will cocked a brow, looking at the far door of the kitchen.
"Er, you don't happen to speak dwarvish, do you?" he asked.
"Not a word of it."
"What about dad?"
"He knows 'hammer' and 'forge'. Maybe some curses, but that's all."
He sighed, shaking his head. "Damn."
"Orûk yom!"
"I'm tryin' Bifur, but this thing weighs more 'n you and me combined!"
Will hurried over to the two dwarves as they carried in the new beam that would support the ceiling in the kitchen area. He wrapped his arms around the back of it, grunting as he lifted it out of Bifur's hands. "Of course it weighs a lot; it's solid oak!"
Bifur sighed, rubbing his shoulder. "Khi arukhu mez…lîkî mez," he grunted, following the other two through the shop. With William's help, the work had gone surprisingly fast. As he had said, the lad was quite a good carpenter –and he worked fast, able to keep up with the two of them. Another good thing about him was his height –he could easily reach the ceiling for them. "Khulu zu kanur sul meze?" he asked.
"He wants t' know if you can handle all this work," Bofur grunted, heaving his end of the beam onto a pair of sawhorses. Will set his down, being careful to not smash his fingers.
"I've handled all that you've thrown at me so far, haven't I?" Will replied with a breathless laugh.
A grin cam to Bifur's lips, making him look slightly crazy (which, in all honesty, he was). "Ghelekh usùgul," he told him, patting him on the back. He then looked at the wall that they had yet to tear down. "Gur mâ tashfab rânuk nîd?" he asked, looking at Bofur.
"What did he say?" Will asked, wiping his hands on his trousers; he had gotten a small cut from a rough part of the beam.
"Askin' how we're going to bring the wall down," Bofur chirped. "I've already got the solution." He walked into the next room for a moment before returning with his mattock and a large hammer that looked better suited to crushing skulls, not walls.
"Îz tada Dwalinme bakhuz?" he asked, his brow rising.
"Of course it's not," Bofur reassured him. He still wore a grin as he tossed the hammer to Will. "Dwalin would rip my beard out if I took his hammer. This is just one I found hiding away in the mansion before we left. I thought I'd bring it just in case."
Will raised his brow and lifted the hammer up so he could inspect it. For its size (large for a dwarf, medium for a human), it was rather heavy. The shaft of the handle was inlaid with iron for strength while the top portion was entirely encased by metal. He quite liked it.
Frowning, Bifur looked between the two younger males. "Halek mâ igedûburak nîdë?" he asked, almost pouting.
"Let the lad have a few swings first, then you can take over," Bofur told him. He then nodded at the ceiling. "He can reach up there, which we can't. Unless you were wantin' t' stand on me shoulders."
Bifur and William laughed, the former shaking his head. He motioned for them to go ahead and start their demolition, backing up a few paces. Bofur grinned, lifting his mattock.
"Alright, lad. Where do you suggest we start?" he asked, looking up at the human.
Will looked at the wall, his eyes narrowed as he tried to judge where the supports would be. "I know for a fact that there's a beam here," he said, his hand resting on the doorway. "There will be at least two more between here and the outer wall –at least, there should be. It's an old house, so there could be just one more, right about here." He knocked about halfway between the door and the far wall, hearing a hollow noise. Raising his brow, he continued to know until he heard a rather solid sound a little to the left of where he had guessed. "There we go. The beam is here."
Bofur walked over, using the flat of his mattock to carve a big 'X' into the plaster. "So we know not t' hit it," he explained.
"Why don't you start on that side," Will told him, motioning to the side nearest the door, "and I'll take this one?"
"Sounds good t' me!" He beamed; he was finally getting to destroy something. Moving to take his position, he wrapped his hands around the wooden handle. It had been so long since he had used the tool for its true purpose –mining- and yet, he could still wield it with deadly accuracy; many goblins, orcs, and wargs had learned this over time. Raising it up and over his shoulder, much like a sword, he glanced up to make sure the flat hammer end would hit the wall before swinging it. As it slammed into the wall, smashing through plaster and wood, he grunted and grinned before pulled it back out. Flipping it over, he swung again, letting the blade tear into the wall; as he pulled it out, wood and plaster was ripped down.
William chuckled to himself, impressed by Bofur's enthusiasm and strength. He lifted the hammer and aimed his blows closer to the ceiling. The weight of the tool made it easy to swing; it slammed nicely into the wall, leaving a large dent. Another swing and he had torn through to the other side. A third blow sent a large chunk of wall soaring into the next room. Still, he had not made nearly as much damage as Bofur, who was currently standing in front of a dwarf-sized hole in the wall.
Bifur watched the two work, his brow rising. The two lads were having quite a bit of fun their destruction, not really caring about the mess they were making. Of course they'd clean it up later, but he knew there would be some tired protest from the two of them. His ear twitched slightly as he thought he heard the door open in the other room. He went to check, just to be safe.
"Uz-Ori! Az-Baylee! Kulhu rânuk yadi?" he happily called upon seeing them.
"We come bearing food," Ori answered. He was grinning broadly as he held a large basket in his arms. Baylee, Bifur saw, was also carrying a basket, though hers was slightly smaller.
Two simultaneous smashing noises came from the back, making the two of them jump. "I take it the wall's being torn down?" Baylee asked. She heard a somewhat maniacal laugh from the other room; definitely from her brother. A second laugh, Bofur's, followed along with a hearty 'That hit the other wall, lad!'.
"Gholiz. Bofur ra'William kulhu yalaz darû furkuz ramim yom," he chuckled, ruffling Ori's hair. He was glad the young dwarf had been allowed to stay in Dale; Dori mothered him far too much. He needed to get out and do some exploring of his own. Peeking down into the basket, he could see some small wheels of cheese and items wrapped up in cheesecloth. "Kulhu yalaz mâ yadi?" He made to grab one of the cheeses, but Ori held the basket above his head.
"You've got to wait for the others, Mr. Greedy-Trousers!" Ori scolded. Bifur laughed.
Baylee was unable to keep herself from laughing at his boldness. "Bifur, could ya get the lads for us? I'd do it, but if me brother's destroyin' something, I don't want t' be anywhere near him."
He nodded, understanding her fear. "Gholiz, gholiz –zu háda izd," he said before going into the other room.
"If they're destroying something, then I think we brought food at the time," Ori said, looking up at her. He still held the basket above his head, as if someone would take it from him.
"Oh, aye. Knockin' walls down brings about one's appetite, that's for sure," she agreed. Most of the hammering in the next room stopped and Will and Bofur, both covered in dust and sweat, came in. They wore matching grins as they panted.
"Bifur said you two had food for us," Will said, sitting down against the wall. Another smash from the other room.
Ori and Baylee set their baskets down in front of the two. "It was partially Ori's idea, partially papa's," Baylee told them. "Ori here said you three would probably be starvin' about now an' papa wanted us girls out o' the inn for a bit, so here we are."
Bofur cocked his brow as he pulled one of the baskets onto his lap. "Why'd he want you out of the inn?" he asked, quickly laying out the basket's contents around him.
"The elves are bathing," Ori answered. Will snorted; Bofur scrunched his nose up. "He didn't want Miss Baylee or Miss Wenna tryin' to peep."
Her cheeks flushed red. "Like I'd peep anyway," she muttered, glancing away. "I had been busy makin' Dori an' Nori some pies t' take home with them, but next thing I know, papa's shovin' me out the door, tellin' me not to look behind him."
Will laughed. "I take it the elves were walkin' around half-naked?" She nodded. "Ah, remember what happened last time, though?"
"'Course I do," she said, brow rising. "Half the girls in Lake Town had come runnin' and were trying to peep at them."
Bofur shook his head. "Never learned what was so appealin' about elves. Why do they even need to bathe? Look at 'em! Dirt falls right off of them! If anything, they leave the tubs cleaner 'n when they got in."
Baylee and Ori snorted as Bifur came in. He brushed some dust off of himself before sitting down across from Will and Bofur. "Kulhu ghel ablug mâ grîf yadi?"
"Lots of it," Bofur answered, offering one of them a brick of cheese. "Cheese, meat pies, fruit pies, bread, ale, fruits…" He grinned, snatching up an apple and looking up at the two. "Thank-you," he told Ori and Baylee. "You brought us a miniature feast."
Bifur, his mouth full of food, made some gestures with his hands, which he held aloft as a sign of gratitude. Judging by his expression, Baylee could tell he was quite pleased as well.
"You're welcome," she chuckled. "By the way, since you lot are covered in dust an' grime…Tomorrow's linen day at the inn. If ya have anythin' ya want washed, just leave it on your beds along with a silver piece an' it'll get wash for ya."
Will glanced up at her pityingly. "You're on linen duty tomorrow, huh?" he asked, taking a large bite out of a meat pie. Finding that it was still rather warm, he started to fan his mouth and cursed. Bofur couldn't help but laugh and handed him a bottle of ale.
Her brow raised, she rolled her eyes at her brother's silliness. "Aye an' I'm not lookin' forward to it. Almost all the beds have been slept in thanks t' the elves. I'm hopin' Aunt Demelza will managed t' help me out for a while."
"Oh, good luck ropin' her in to help," he mused, finally having been able to finish his bite. "Good luck getting anyone to help you. You know what linen day is like. Anyway, I need t' get goin' back to the inn. I'll see you lads later." She smiled at them and gave them a small wave before turning and leaving. Ori followed close behind her, also waving at them.
"I take it that it's not the most fun job to have…?" Bofur asked.
"Nope," Will said through a mouthful of pie. "It's horrible. One person gets t' go t' all the rooms collecting the bedding and whatever clothes need washed while the other does all the washing. While the washing is goin' on, the first person has the easy job o' goin' round and remaking the beds with sheets that have already been cleaned. But the washing –that's the hardest part. You're bent over a tub for the better part of the day, scrubbing at all these sheets an' clothes…then you have to put 'em up to dry. That takes a long while, so we build a fire so the clothing at least gets dry reasonably fast…" He shook his head, tearing into another pie.
Bofur tilted his head. "How do you keep track o' whose clothes go where?" he asked before taking a long drink of ale.
"If it's Baylee who does the removal," he answered, "she just remembers. Everyone else, though –we have to write 'em down and label the piles."
Bifur's brow rose and he glanced up at Will. "Zûr zu azlâl sul utada?" he questioned. "Tada yothuru nukûd uazlâl."
He shoved some cheese into his mouth as Bofur translated for him. "She…has a strange memory," he shrugged. "I don't know any other way to explain it."
"Everyone's got a strange memory," Bofur thought aloud. "Like Bifur. He understands Westron; even used to speak it fluently. Now he just can't remember how."
Rolling his eyes, Bifur made some gestures with his hands and pointed at his axe.
"Aye, I know it has t' do with your axe. That axe made you forget!"
He made some more gestures –some of them not so nice and universal amongst the different races.
*
That night, the three tired, but proud, males returned to the inn. Bofur had his mattock slung over his shoulder while Will had the hammer resting over his shoulders. Drawing nearer to the inn, they could hear the sharp, metallic twang of hot metal being hammered. Bifur and Bofur furrowed their brows, looking for the source of the noise, but saw no sign of a smithy.
"Kun tada kalat?" Bifur murmured, cocking his head to try and listen for the source of the noise. "Mâ kat yom dohyarâl satf uyadi…"
"He askin' about the smithing noises?" Will asked.
"Aye," Bofur replied, also trying to find the source.
Will chuckled, shaking his head. 'Their brains must've gotten a bit rattled from smashing down that wall,' he thought. He remembered how, when there were just a few, weak pieces of wood left sticking out of the wall, the two dwarves made a wager against one another involving the removal of said wood with their heads. Bifur had won. "My dad used to be a blacksmith," he told them, leading them towards the inn yard. The hammering got louder before suddenly stopping. "He still dabbles in it to make horseshoes or some new cookware."
"Why'd he stop?" Bofur asked.
"My mum wouldn't marry him unless he stopped. He apparently always smelled horrible," he explained, laughing. Walking over to a heavy wooden door, he knocked loudly on it. "Ya in there, dad?" He didn't jump as it suddenly swung open, but the two dwarves were startled.
Warren stood in the doorway, panting slightly. He was covered in sweat and soot. "Who else would it be, lad?" he laughed breathlessly. "Your Uncle Richard sure as the wind doesn't come in here."
The dwarves poked their heads past him, looking into the smithy. "Decent set up," Bofur murmured, seeing a large oven filled with red-hot coals. In the middle of them sat a length of metal, its ends cherry-red.
"Gholiz," Bifur agreed. "Ghelekh ezùhyesh khebab…Dohyar ghelekh râzus." Before either human could stop him, he walked into the forge and started looking over Warren's tools. "Bakhuz'ala rudur; ghelekh kurdû kirikh." As he spoke, Warren had his eyes shut and was muttering to himself.
"Father?" Will asked, slightly worried.
"Sorry," Warren apologized, opening his eyes. "My Khuzdul is extremely rusty…not that I ever had a firm grasp on it in the first place." He laughed, noticing as Bofur looked at him, confused. "When I was a lad, I was apprenticed t' a dwarven smith," he explained. "But the most I remember is 'athhôrat bakhuz'. I had to fetch many hammers in my youth…"
Will raised his brow, looking at his father. "You also know nâshta-" He suddenly found his father's hand clamped over his mouth and a very stern look on his face.
"We don't say that in front of dwarven guests," he muttered, cheeks red as he glanced back at Bifur and Bofur. The two dwarves were doing their best to not snicker, though were somewhat failing. Removing his hand, he tried to look as if nothing had happened. "Now you three should get inside. Demelza an' Wenna should have your baths ready by now and-"
Bofur tilted his head, brows furrowed. "How did they know we'd be needin' baths?" he asked.
"Baylee told 'em, o' course," he answered.
"Odd. Why didn't she draw the baths?" Will asked, his brows furrowing.
"She's takin' a nap." He walked past the two dwarves, picking up a set of metal tongs. "Could you wake her after you're done, lad? She wanted t' be up before dinner."
He nodded. "Aye, I can do that. Anything else ya need done while I'm in there?"
"Make sure Wenna isn't flirtin' with the elves," he chuckled.
As the three of them walked off, Warren was positive he could hear Bofur muttering, 'Women an' elves…'
~*~
"Baylee, do you remember what I taught you about sword fighting?" A helmet, much too large for her small head, was slid over her face and fastened into place.
She looked down at the meat cleaver she held in her right hand. It had been the only weapon they could find for her. "A-a little…but this isn't even close to a sword…"
"No, it's not, love, but it's the best you've got for now. Treat it like a hatchet –quick blows, tryin' to disable the limbs. And this…" she was handed a small, wooden shield that had a large chunk missing from its edge, "this is your shield. It's not in the best condition, but it'll have to do." Her mother smiled reassuringly at her, but there was fear in her eyes. She, too, was clad in armor that was too big for her; armor that had been taken from injured or dead men that had been brought to be healed.
A piercing shriek came from the near distance, earning cries of fear from those in the healer's tents. She shivered in fear, her knife shaking in her hand.
"The goblins will be here any second," Éolynna continued. Outwardly, she appeared calm and collected, just as all Rohirrim shieldmaidens were trained to be. "The men that lie in those beds are there because they've protected us. It's our turn to protect them. Do you understand, Baylee?" She moved to stand beside her daughter, a short sword and bloodstained-shield in hand as she took a defensive position, the shield raised.
She nodded, staring at the path ahead; her jaw was quivering in fear. "I do…" she murmured, shifting her stance to mimic that of her mother. A shape appeared at her right -it was Demelza sprinting out of a tent, two axes in hand. She had no shield, but had taken the armor from a soldier; his blood still covered the chainmail
"It's alright to be afraid, love," Éolynna told her daughter, her gaze fixed on the goblins as they came into sight. "Fear is natural. And when you fight against fear, such as now…that's the true courage in your heart."
Baylee threw quick glances at her aunt and mother; tall, proud Rohirrim shieldmaidens.
"Nú til reiði," said her mother, speaking in her native tongue.
Two women and a girl against fifty goblins.
"Nú fyrir tortímingu og," continued Demelza.
The rabble was drawing ever closer.
"RAUðUR NÓTT DÖGUN! GJALD!"
The three women charged forward.
"Baylee, it's nearly dinner." Will held the candle up, trying to see his sister in the darkness. Hearing a whimper, he frowned and quickly closed the door behind him before crossing the room. As he drew near to the bed, he could see his sister lying face-down on her bed, her hands gripping her pillow. Tears were streaming down her face and every few seconds she would twitch.
"Baylee, wake up!" He shook her roughly, trying to rouse her. "Baylee!"
Her eyes suddenly shot open and she gasped. Seeing her brother, she bolted upright and clung to him, still whimpering. Will held her close, stroking her hair and gently rocking her. He could feel her body shaking and he sighed. The worst part about her nightmares, he knew, was that they had actually taken place.
Whenever they got her to speak about them, she would never say much. She would only tell them that she dreamt of the War. Once, Will had managed get his sister to tell him more and he shuddered when she told him about how their mother died.
"Everything's alright now, Baylee," he murmured, continuing to rock her. "The War's long over…Things are fine. Dad 'n me are fine." He glanced down at her, a reassuring smile on his face. "You won't have to go through that again." Using the pad of his thumb, he wiped away some of her tears.
"I…I just hate it," she choked out. "I hate bein' able to remember it perfectly. Mum's words, Demelza's battle cry, even the stench o' the goblins…" She shuddered and clung to her brother, knuckles white. "I don't even know what triggered the damn thing this time!" She sniffled, futilely trying to not get her snot on his shirt.
"Shh…" he rubbed her back. "It's over. You're awake now." He kissed the top of her head before resting his chin atop her shoulder. "And it's nearly dinner time. Galiene made your favorite."
She sniffled again, trying to wipe away her tears. "Roast duck?" she murmured. Will nodded and a small, wibbling smile came to her lips. "I hope there'll be some left by the time we finish servin' the guests…"
"Oh, there will be," he promised, pulling back and ruffling her hair. "Thank you, by the way."
Baylee cocked her head as she moved to climb out of bed. "For what?" Grabbing her boots, she started to tug them on.
"For lunch an' for telling the others to ready us baths."
She shook her head, buckling the straps. "It was nothin'. I know you would have done the same if I took up a messy job somewhere."
"Shouldn't be too much more mess now that we have the wall down." He picked up her brush and started to sort out her messy hair. "Just need to take out the other beams and shore the roof up with the new one. Then we wait for glass…"
Her brow rose. "But don't ya have t' work your magic on that big block o' oak you've got?"
"How'd you know it was oak?"
"I heard you 'n Bofur discussing it this morning."
"Eavesdropper."
"Worrywart."
"Tiny."
"Was that really unnecessary?"
"Of course." He tilted her head back to face him, showing her his wide grin. "You're my tiny big sister."
Her brow rose. "Arsemunch," she mumbled.
He feigned an appalled look. "Baylee Braddock! You watch your tongue in this inn!" he scolded teasingly. "Why, if dad heard ya usin' such foul language…" He straightened her head again as he separated her hair into two even halves. Putting the handle of the brush in his mouth, he started to braid her hair.
"Papa giggles like a little boy whenever I call you arsemunch," she smirked. "Are you doin' that fancy braid Lorelei taught you?"
"Uh-huh," he said, brows furrowed in concentration. "Geh muh a wibbon webby."
Trying to keep her head still, Baylee reached forward. She was just barely able to grab a ribbon from the table and she handed it back to Will. "I think you're the only lad I know who knows how t' braid."
"Dwaffs wrade. Evs wrade."
"Well, I meant human lads."
"I'm sure there are ovvers." Finishing the braid, he pulled the brush from his mouth and brushed out the end of it before tying it securely with the ribbon. "It's a useful skill that can be used with a lot o' other things that aren't hair." He let the braid flop onto her back. "There. Now let's go; I bet everyone's wonderin' what's taking so long for me t' wake you up."
Her brow rose as she watched him stand up. "When they see that you've brushed an' braided my hair, they'll know why." She squeaked as he picked her up and slung her across his shoulders. "What are ya doing?!"
"You weren't moving fast enough." He wore a broad, playful grin as he carried her out of her room and down the dark hallway. Despite the darkness, the two of them had come to know the layout well enough to navigate without light. "Can you walk on your own now?" he teased as they entered the parlor of their private quarters.
"Of course I can; now will ya put me down? Your hair is still soakin' wet an' it's making my stomach cold."
Grinning, Will set her down before moving to wring his hair out. "It's not that wet," he told her when only a few drops fell to the floor.
She rolled her eyes, though smiled. "I know –most o' it went into my clothes."
They left the private quarters and went into the common room. Baylee was rather surprised to find it relatively calm; the elves were talking quietly amongst themselves while Bofur and Bifur dried their hair out by the fire, discussing their day with Ori. A dozen or so humans were scattered across the room in small groups, drinking their ale or eating their supper.
"There you are, lass." She turned, finding Demelza coming up behind them, a bag of flour over her shoulder. "The elves put in a request for some more o' your fruit bread. We've been out since noon, though. Will, that means you get t' help me an' Wenna until she's done." She handed the bag of flour to Baylee, who carried it into the kitchen. "The dwarves haven't been tended to yet," she instructed, "they just came out from their baths."
Will nodded and, as his aunt walked off, he went to the bar. Grabbing three mugs, he filled them up with beer before taking them over to the dwarves. "Evenin', masters," he said as he set the drinks down. The three thanked him, large smiles coming to their faces as they snatched the vessels up. "Do you three know what you'll be wantin' for dinner?"
"Ori sanuaglâbuz zâramzundush mahblung," Bifur said from behind his mug. With his hair still wet and hanging limp about his shoulders, he did not appear as wild as he normally did. "Tada aklât ghelekh-"
Bofur looked at him while he spoke and nodded. "Aye, the duck does sound good. I'll have some o' that, too," he interrupted. He grinned somewhat apologetically as Bifur gave him a small glare.
"-Uhmûnd danukkhûlb, humund, u-chelekh," he finished. He sucked the foam out of his mustache before using his fingers to comb through the wiry hair.
"Duck, vegetables, bread, an' cheese," Bofur translated. "I'll have the duck an' some vegetables. An' beer, of course." He grinned sheepishly; he had already finishing his drink.
Brow rising, Will checked his mug. Every bit of liquid gone. "You an' your drinking! You finished off all our ale at lunch; are you always thirsty?" he joked.
Bofur let out a content belch. "Where there is drink, I am thirsty."
Shaking his head, Will looked at Ori. "What about you, Master Ori? What'll you eat tonight?"
Ori was swinging his legs under the chair again. "Is there any roast chicken?" he asked, his head tilted.
"There can be if you wish it," Will replied. "So, roast chicken. Anythin' else?"
"I'll have some biscuits an' chips as well."
His brows rose and he grinned. "It's been awhile since anyone's ordered chips. Galiene will be pleased about that."
His cheeks flushing pink, Ori looked at him curiously. "Why's that?"
"Means she can make extra for herself," he grinned before walking off.
Bifur grunted as he untangled a particularly nasty snarl from his beard. "Mabarîn fushták mil'ala."
Bofur nodded, glancing around the room as he started to comb through his own hair. "Aye, it is," he agreed. "Not that it's a bad thing though; a little quiet is always nice." He looked up as Will returned with his drink. "Thanks, lad," he said, taking the mug happily. "Where's Miss Baylee at?" He promptly took a drink from the foaming mug.
"She's baking at the moment," he replied, using his head to motion towards the kitchen, "but she should be out soon enough."
"I didn't know she cooks other meals." Ori tilted his head as he watched Bifur.
Will brushed some hair from his eyes. "Ah, she normally doesn't do much cooking at all; just baking. She's taken over the daily bread making from our aunt." He winked at the dwarves. "She just likes you three, so she's always makin' your breakfasts."
"Maher dûr jimuh umâ san," Bifur said with a small nod. "Berûkh nazelâ ghelekh. Ori, tanak fak yadi zerkûnastikh."
Obediently, Ori turned his chair and started to help Bifur braid his beard. "He says that Miss Baylee gives us the right amount o' food at breakfast," he translated.
"Oh, aye –she piles our plates nice 'n high with food," Bofur agreed, nodding. "That's not t' say Miss Galiene doesn't –because she does a very good job keepin' us all fed, but Baylee just adds a touch more."
Will laughed. "Aye, that she does. She gets that from our mum. She was always making sure we got more than enough t' eat." He glanced at the floor, a sad smile on his lips. "I'll, ah…have your food for ya as soon as possible. Just give a holler if you need any more beer."
Bofur's brows furrowed slightly as Will walked off. "Huh…Wonder what happened to their mum…?" He looked at Ori and Bifur, who shrugged.
"Kûnak yalaz hurkâza," Bifur murmured, braiding his beard. "Ranak za'budúkh mâranâk, taghelekhur."
Ori frowned slightly. "It's not our place to ask," he mumbled. Both he and Bifur gave Bofur a stern look, knowing full well that he was prone to blurting things out without thinking.
"Bofur, brahas zûrâ izd nughîrz khi," Bifur quietly ordered, his tone stern.
He frowned, looking down into the foam of his beer. "You know I know better 'n to ask people about that sort of thing," he replied, his voice also soft. His smile had gone, replaced with an unfamiliar melancholic appearance that somewhat disturbed Ori. Closing his eyes, he took a long drink from his beer.
Bifur reached over, patting his shoulder though he said nothing. Ori, finishing Bifur's first braid and starting on the second, decided it best to not question it.
It was quiet between the three for nearly a quarter of an hour. Out of nowhere, there was a small crash from the kitchen followed by a yelp, some thuds, and hearty dose of laughter.
"Sounds like a part y in there," Bofur chuckled.
One of the elves rose from her seat and crossed the room, poking her head into the kitchen to see what had happened. Shaking her head, she returned to her seat, telling her companions what had happened in Sindarian.
"I hope everthing's alright," Ori murmured, brows knitted together as he tried to figure out where he had messed up on the braid.
"Sounded like someone dropped a few things," Bofur suggested. He leaned back, the grin having returning to his face. Ori thought it suited him more than the sober expression. "Hope none of our food went t' waste!"
As he tucked his arm behind his head, Baylee emerged from the kitchen, absolutely coated in flour. Despite this, she was carrying two platters of food and was still laughing as Will, also flour-coated and food-toting, left the kitchen. He did not seem as amused as his sister about their situation; he was a bit upset about it, truthfully, since it meant a second bath for him. Both had left a trail of white footprints from the kitchen.
"That's what ya get for tryin' t' mess around in there," Baylee told him as she brought food to the dwarves. Will merely grumbled under his breath, taking some food over to a group of humans. "Here ya are, lads. Sorry it took a bit; the vegetables were bein' stubborn."
"Looks like the flour was bein' a bit stubborn as well," Bofur chuckled, flicking his hair over his shoulder as he scooted his chair closer to the table.
She laughed, nodding as she put the various plates and bowls on the table. To the dwarves' quiet relief, the food had not been touched by the wheat. "Will was tryin' t' be a stinker while I was cleaning up my bakin' mess an' ended up knocking the flour onto my head instead."
Bifur snorted into his mug as he went to take a drink, beer dribbling into his beard. "Nâ ranak khi aklat emùrag uyom," he chuckled.
"Well it sounded less like a party an' more like an avalanche to me," Ori chuckled.
"No," she smiled, setting down the final plate of biscuits. "Just a big oaf bein' clumsy."
"I heard that!" Will called.
"Good for you!" she called back, grinning as she went to go check on the Elves.
Bofur looked at the other two dwarves. "It's a right shame she doesn't get along with her brother," he joked.
"Taban," Bifur agreed, nodding slowly. "Mahmazar zurkur ze ûn Bombur." He started to carve up his duck, grinning as the skin crunched under his knife.
"I'm allowed t' tease my brother every now 'n then," Bofur defended, also starting to carve his duck. He glanced over at Ori, who was separating out some roasted greens from the rest of his vegetables. "What're you doin' there, Ori?"
Ori looked up. "I don't like green food," he said before returning his gaze to his plate. "I'm not a rabbit."
Bifur shrugged, reaching over with his knife and taking the greens for himself. This earned a bit of protest from Bofur, who had been moving to do the same; both of them rather enjoyed green food –so long as there was plenty of meat served with it. Their argument ended when Bofur offered some of his roasted potatoes in return for the greens.
Ori shook his head. 'Strange ones they are,' he thought, 'liking rabbit food so much…'