Chapter Six
Bifur woke up with a headache, but that was nothing new.
It was thanks to the axe lodged in his skull that he got the blasted things in the first place. A hundred and thirty-three years without ever getting a headache and then, bam! He gets an axe in his head and he wakes up every other day for the next forty-two years (and counting) with one.
Of course, he could live with the headaches –obviously, as he was still quite alive and kicking. It was the inability to speak Westron and the strange dreams that he had sometimes that drove him insane. Khuzdul was not a bad language; rather fun, in fact, but only when around other dwarves. Iglishmek, too, was a completely fun language –but, again, only around other dwarves.
He missed being able to freely converse with humans…and, if ever chance allowed for it again, hobbits. Elves…well, it was best that he kept to his Khuzdul. Especially after being shoved in a barrel of dead fish (even though that was mostly Bilbo's doing, Bifur still pinned the blame on the elves. They had locked him and his companions up, after all).
With a sigh, he rolled himself over in the bed and kept his eyes firmly shut, determined to will his head to stop hurting. Some days, he was able to achieve such a feat; others…not so well. As he lay there, half awake, half asleep and thoroughly unaware of the waking world, he began to feel relieved as it turned out that, today, he would be able to will the pain away. He was just starting to fall back into the realm of sleep when Bofur let out a loud yawn.
"Psst…Bifur…You up yet?" he hissed through the dimly lit room.
Bifur frowned, his brows furrowing. He was half tempted to merely pretend he was asleep, but his younger cousin would figure it out it was just a charade. "Kulhu zu zirikh…?" he gruffed.
"Ah, good! You are up!" He heard Bofur crawl out of bed and cross the room. "So, I was thinkin'-"
"Líz atûk?" Opening his eyes, he let out a small, surprised grunt as he found Bofur kneeling next to the bed, his chin resting on its edge. "Kulhu brahas zu utada?" he asked.
"Oh, very funny, cousin." A slight pout came to his lips. "I was thinkin' that you could go to Erebor today and get us some glass. And tell Bombur what's goin' on. After all, we haven't really had the chance to tell him that we've found a shop yet."
"Kulhu, zu arnâk tada mâ kundim uBofurme akar ufunm zesul?" he snorted. "Naraglavammazâm azgharab mâ!"
Bofur gave his cousin a look. "Oh, c'mon, Bifur! I know full well that you don't mind visitin' Bombur's part of the mansion. You love gettin' attacked by those wee dwarrowlings o' his." He fell backwards onto his rump as Bifur shoved his pillow in his face. Letting the cushion fall onto his lap, he glanced up to see Bifur sitting up. "So you'll do it then?"
His brow rising, Bifur looked down at his cousin. "Unâ," he grinned.
It was halfway between breakfast and midday when Bifur arrived at the gates of Erebor. On either side of him, a mixture of humans and dwarves were coming and going into the great city, many with empty carts that, upon leaving, would be full to the brim with goods. A grin came to his lips as he looked way up at the black stone ceilings and closed his eyes for a moment.
"Fine silks! Fine silks for sale!"
"These are the strongest hammers in the whole of Erebor; they're forged from only the strongest of iron."
"Bah, I can get a better pair of boots for five silver less at Narûkaz's shop down the street."
Here, in Erebor, he could finally speak to others and be understood. He grinned, starting to walk once more. Occasionally, he was greeted by a fellow dwarf, who called out and waved at him. As he got further and further from the market area, however, things quieted down. He found himself walking along a smooth, black street inlaid with golden geometric figures that crisscrossed over one another in intricate patterns. It was familiar to him; he had walked this path almost every day for five years. Just ahead, he knew, it rounded a corner. He would continue straight for a little while longer before making a left down a side street. And when he came to the end of that…
A warm smile came to his lips as he looked at the large wooden door ahead of him. It had been stained with a dark finish, but gold and silver wire ran across its surface, mimicking the figures on the street. It was set into a flat, black wall –to anyone who was not a dwarf, it seemed pointless to have a door in a plain, unimpressive wall.
But to Bifur, this was home. A real home where he could see his family and prop his feet up on a cushion and eat good, home-cooked food.
Opening the door, he stepped inside. Straight away, he was able to smell Gerdi and Bombur's cooking; they always had something cooking. In the distance, he could hear the shouts and yells of their four youngest children as they wrestled while their elder brothers tried to get them to calm down slightly.
Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called out (in Khuzdul), "I'm home!"
Everything fell silent for a moment. And then he heard the shuffle of eight feet and their owners crying shouts of 'Cousin Bifur! Cousin Bifur's home!' (also in Khuzdul) and he braced himself for the impact that was soon to come. Soon enough, for dwarrowlings came bolting down the hall. Almost at the same time, they jumped and clung onto the older dwarf, who was laughing heartily as he saw them.
"Ah, there are my lil' badgers," he laughed, doing his best to hold all four of them. "You didn't knock me down this time; that's two for me an' eight for you!"
"We're still ahead o' you by a whole lot o' knock-downs, Cousin Bifur," the eldest of the group, Boroz, grinned.
The youngest, a little girl by the name of Sanna, climbed up on one of Bifur's shoulders. "Where Uncle Bof?" she asked, looking behind him for any sign of her uncle.
"Still in Dale, my little lass," he replied, scooping the other girl, Grid, onto his other shoulder. The two boys (the younger being named Buruz), he scooped under his arms as he started for the kitchen. "Is your daddy home?"
"He's off in the market," said an older, female voice. Bifur looked up, spotting his cousin-in-law, Gerdi. She was a beautiful dwarf woman with extremely long, deep red hair and a fine, ruby-red beard lining her jaw. Seeing Bifur, she smiled happily at him. "So, why is that silly old coot still in Dale?" she asked, resting one arm on the doorframe while the other rested over her rather pregnant belly.
Finally setting down the children, he shooed them off. "We've found a shop."
Her eyes widened. "Are you serious? You and Bofur were actually able to find one?!"
"Well, sort of. That's why I'm back –and it's only for the day. We bought a building-"
"You took that much gold with you!?"
"-And we're fixing it up," he said, ignoring her comment for now. "We've got a human lad –bloody good carpenter- helping us. We're staying at his family's inn."
Gerdi sighed, rubbing her temple. "I knew I should have checked Bofur's pockets before the two of you left…" She shook her head. "Well, too late for that." Turning, she waddled back into the kitchen, motioning for him to follow. "So, then, what brings you home? I know it can't be just to tell us you've bought a shop."
He went to sit down at the table. "I need to get panes of glass for the window we'll be putting in," he explained. "Bofur thought it best I do that task, since…well, I don't speak Westron anymore." His eyes lit up and he smiled as Gerdi placed a large bowl of vegetable soup before him.
"You'll learn it again, I'm sure," she said, sitting herself down on a stool. "So. You've found a shop…and you're fixing it. Was the building not in good condition?"
"The building's sturdy. It'll last a couple more decades at the least," he told her. "We're changing the layout a little bit to make it more…well, shop and dwarrow friendly." He paused to eat some of the soup. It was strange to him that he liked it; it had absolutely no meat and yet, it tasted meaty. He wondered if it was all the different mushrooms Gerdi put into it. "Like I said, we've got ourselves a fine young carpenter who's been helping us the last few days. I thought Bofur and I were getting a lot done –well, I had thought wrong."
A young dwarf lad, his beard just starting to fill in around his jaw, poked his head into the room. "Aha! So the little ones were telling the truth," he grinned, coming into the room. Two more dwarves followed him, both older and significantly more bearded than he.
"Well, who else could I be?" Bifur asked with a small grin.
"You sounded like Uncle Bofur when we first heard you," the middle brother, Berez, said as he sat down.
The eldest, Baraz, rolled his eyes teasingly as he filled himself a mug of ale. "You just have bad hearing, Berez."
"Biriz thought he was Bofur too!" Berez argued.
"Boys," their mother said, her tone firm. She gave them a highly motherly look, her brow raised.
The three winced slightly while Bifur chuckled. "Sorry, mother."
She shook her head, looking at Bifur. "So, you're back for glass but then you'll be off to Dale again?" she asked him. He nodded, the spoon in his mouth. "Shame…The little ones miss their Cousin Bifur and Uncle Bofur."
"What?" Baraz asked, brows furrowed. "That's why Uncle Bofur isn't back?"
Bifur leaned back in his seat slightly. "We've got a shop," he said for the second time. "Maybe when we get it up an' running, we'll have one or two of you lads up there helping us." He then gave them a teasing wink. "I think you'll find the females to your liking."
Gerdi lightly swatted his shoulder as her sons grinned broadly. "Bofur! They're still lads yet!" she gently scolded. "Anyway, Berez here already has his eyes on a lass." She smirked as Berez turned as red as his hair.
"Mum! I do not!" he argued, clearly flustered. "I've just been helpin' her learn how to tell good gems from bad ones, since her da' is off in the Iron Hills for a few months…"
Bifur and Gerdi gave one another matching looks of unconvinced amusement. Then, as Bifur's head was lightly snapped back, Gerdi's eyes shot open, for Sanna had snuck into the kitchen and was climbing her way up Bifur's back.
"Sanna! What did I tell you-Oh, you naughty little dwarrowling, don't climb on Cousin Bifur!"
Despite her scolding, Bifur reached back and tugged the little girl over his shoulder, earning a shriek of laughter. "Ah, no harm done, Gerdi," he grinned, tickling the youngsters sides. "At least she doesn't grab onto the ax like Grid used to." He shot a look at Biriz. "Or Biriz. Oh, that lad was notorious for trying to yank it out."
Biriz shifted and glanced away innocently. "I haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about."
Getting the young girl properly situated on his lap, Bifur chuckled. "Ah, if ever I'm blessed with dwarrowlings of my own, I just know one of them will try to pull this thing out," he chuckled. He dipped his spoon into the stew, starting to lift it towards his mouth, but Sanna grabbed a hold of his hand and tugged it towards her. "You little thief," he chuckled as she ate the bite. "Have you been around Nori lately, missy?"
She tilted her head back, giving him a wide, cheeky grin. "Nooo," she giggled, wiggling her feet together.
"It's what she does whenever she's sittin' on someone's lap and they have food," Baraz smiled. "Uncle Bofur taught her that. He thinks it's hilarious that she steals their food."
Gerdi raised her brow. "Well then, it's no wonder he's the skinniest of you three!" she laughed. "He never gets any food because little miss there is eating all of it!"
Sanna looked up at her mother. "Yummy," she chirped, stealing another spoonful of Bifur's lunch. She tried to take a third, but Bifur grabbed the bowl and held it above her head. She whined, trying to reach it, but her mother scooped her up.
"It's your nap time, missy," she told her, earning a very big pout from such a little girl. "You'll get your lunch after you nap. You know your tummy gets upset if you eat before naptime."
Sanna opened her mouth to argue, but a bellowing call of 'Daddy's home!' from the hallway changed her mind. Squirming out of her mother's grip, she dashed into the hallway, meeting up with siblings. Bifur raised his brow, chuckling as he continued to eat his stew. As his cousin, Bombur, came into the kitchen, Baraz, Berez, and Biriz scooted out of the way, for their father was quite rotund and took up a lot of space –especially when carrying an armful of dwarrowlings and an enormous piece of cured ham.
"Bifur!" he grinned, seeing the other dwarf. "I was beginning to wonder what was taking you and Bofur so long to come home. Did he find himself a free tap of beer to live under?" He held the ham away from him as Grid and Boroz tried to reach over and steal some chunks from it.
"They've bought a shop and are fixing it up," Gerdi told him, getting up and taking the ham from him. The two of them had to lean over in order to give the other a kiss thanks to their bellies. "Bifur's here just for a short visit before he heads back." She moved to set the ham on the counter before moving to pick up Sanna, who pouted. "Now it's you nap time, my little dwarrowling."
"No wan' seep!"
The two left the room, the little girl continuing to vocalize her protests.
Bombur looked at Bifur, amazed. "So, you two are really going to do it then? Open up a toyshop in a city of men?"
Nodding, Bifur chewed some of the vegetables in his stew; he had figured out that it was the mushrooms that made it taste so meaty. "A lot o' the folk have voiced their approval. Apparently, Dale doesn't have a toymaker right now. Think of all the bored children." Another bite.
Bombur sat himself down, finally releasing his children. Grid, however, still hung off of his arm, swinging her feet happily. "Well, it's a good thing you and Bofur love children then," he chuckled, scratching his chin. "I'm sure you two will have plenty of customers. Just remember, though, that if ever you get bored, the mines are always in need of more strong backs. Boroz, don't you dare touch that ham!"
The lad looked up, eyes wide and hand merely a hairsbreadth away from stealing a nibble from the meat. Baraz laughed, ruffling his hair as he plucked up the leg and carried it into the pantry. "But I'm hungry."
"There's a whole pot of stew that Berez made, you lil' whiner," Biriz grinned, getting him in a headlock and rubbing his knuckles over his scalp.
Bifur looked at his bowl, amazed. "Berez made this?" He glanced up, seeing the second-oldest glance away shyly, his cheeks red under his beard.
"Mum's been needing help, what with how she's nearly ready to burst," he said, rubbing his neck. "So, she tells me what to do and I do it. Dad will sometimes help me."
"It's good," Bifur reassured him. 'I think I'll have to visit this part of the mansion more often,' he thought, holding his bowl to his lips so he could get every last drop of stew in his mouth.
Humans would consider dwarf mansions to be castles rather than actual mansions. For one thing, one mansion alone could hold at least four 'parts' of a dwarf clan –that is, to say a set of grandparents, a set of parents, their children, and their children's families. After that, it was up to the youngest generation to go out and found their own mansions for the clan…unless vacancies in the original home came to be. Most, though, preferred to put some distance between them and their relatives, for sanity's sake.
"So, this shop of yours and Bofur's," Bombur said, resting his hands on his stomach once Grid had released him. "Is it in a good part of Dale? How large is it?"
"Aye, it's in a good part of the city," Bifur told him. He plucked up Buruz as the young one walked by and started to tickle him, grinning. "It's on the edge of the market; the building is two stories tall with a nice little terrace on the roof. It's about twice the size of our old shop."
Bombur nodded in understanding. "I heard that Ori's been allowed to stay a bit longer in Dale. Has he been helping you two?"
"Today he's helpin', but he's mostly there to explore. We've got a human lad doing the carpentry for us." At that, Bombur's brows rose. "Aye, we hired a human. He's a big lad –almost six and a half feet tall. Quite useful to have around since we can't reach the ceilings."
Wriggling out of his grip, Buruz looked up at him. "Are you 'n Uncle Bof going to sell your toys there?" he asked, moving to sit on the table.
He nodded. "We are."
"Will you still make toys for us?" Grid asked, plopping her chin on his knee. She gave him a sort of kicked-puppy look; it was a look that normally earned her extra helping of dessert if it wasn't her parents serving her.
"Of course we will!" he laughed. "Why wouldn't we want to make fun things for our little badgers to play with?" He ruffled her hair.
Boroz grinned, hopping up and wrapping his arms around Bifur's neck from behind, hanging off of the older dwarf. "Good! Because you two make the best toys in the whole of Middle Earth! Especially that fall-apart man you made me a few months ago." He wore a cheeky grin as he continued to cling onto Bifur.
Shaking his head, Bombur quietly laughed. "Where have you been staying through all this?"
"At an inn called the Full Tankard. If ever you're in Dale, I highly recommend it. Baraz, bring an old dwarf some ale, will you please?" He watched the eldest son nod, moving to fill the mug up. "The owner was apparently a blacksmith once, apprenticed to one of the last dwarves in Lake Town. Ah, thank you, lad." Taking the foaming mug, he took a long drink. "It's his son who's helping us. He daughter is rather helpful too; she's brings us lunch as well as makes sure we never have empty mugs."
"Sounds like an establishment I will have to pay a visit to," Bombur grinned, "though, is the food any good?"
'I shouldn't have told him…now, if he goes there, poor Baylee's pantry will be emptied!' he thought. "Quite good," he allowed himself to admit to his cousin. "It's not fancy, like you'd find at other inns. Though, I've yet to taste a stew as good as yours or Gerdi's."
Bombur nodded, scratching his chin again. "Well, so long as you three are getting along well enough. Maybe when you're shop is open for business, we'll drop in for a visit. Is the carpenter lad going to be helping you make toys or sell them?"
"Well, Bofur offered him a job should he prove handy enough, though we're not sure if he'll do much of the selling."
"Why's that?" Berez asked, his head tilting.
"He not nice or something?" Biriz inquired.
Bifur shook his head. "Oh no, he's a very friendly bugger. It's just…Well, he's got some nasty scars on his face that scare other humans." He took another drink of his ale. "Of course, we dwarrows don't give two coppers about them –after all, we pride ourselves on our battle scars- but you know how humans can be." He gave a small shrug. "But, a few of the younger human lasses seem to not mind the scars." He grinned, giving the older lads a wink.
"Humans are weird," Grid said. "They don't have much hair and they're too tall! The must hit their heads on everything."
"Grid, that's silly," Boroz told her. "They're humans; they make things human sized!"
She pouted slightly. "But what about the hair, then? Why don't their women have beards like us? They should have beards!"
"They must shave a lot," Buruz wondered aloud. "Probably three times a day."
The three of them thought for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, that must be it," they agreed, earning a round of laughter from their family.
For the better part of the day, Ori had been sitting against a wall in the shop, his sketchbook propped open on his knees. Sometimes, he was pulled out of his trance when Bofur and Will needed help hauling something, but, for the most part, the two let him be. When lunch was delivered by Warren (Baylee was too busy with laundry), they left some food at his side and quietly laughed as he unconsciously ate or drank with his right hand, he left hand continuously moving across the pages.
It was around three in the afternoon when he finally finished what he was working on. Grinning, he hopped to his feet and bolted into the back room, where Bofur and Will were sawing wood down to size for a window frame.
"I've finished it!" he chirped, hurrying over to Bofur. "I've finished the design you wanted!"
"Did you now, lad?" Bofur grinned, thankful for the break from sawing. Setting the tool down, he leaned against the sawhorse and motioned for Ori to show him.
Will, curious, wandered over, peering over Bofur's head as the young dwarf opened the sketchbook. There, sprawled across two pages, was a rather intricate drawing of a sign advertising 'Bifur and Bofur's Toyshoppe'. The writing was along the top and bottom of the sign, leaving the middle full of little drawings of toys that Ori knew his friends had made over the years.
"I quite like this," Bofur grinned, still looking the drawing over. "You've gotten a lot better since I last saw some o' your stuff, lad."
His cheeks flushed with pride. "I tried to put everything you and Bifur wanted in it, but 'Toymakers Extraordinaire' wouldn't fit."
"Ah, that's alright. It sounded a bit excessive anyway," he smiled. He looked up at Will. "That look doable to you, lad?" He handed the sketchbook up to the human, letting him get a better look.
After a few minutes, Will nodded. "Aye, I can do this. It'll take me some time though; a week at the least." He handed the book back to Ori, whose cheeks were still red. "After that, maybe I'll have Master Ori help me paint it. Not too good with painting anymore."
Bofur tilted his head. "Why's that?"
Will held up his left hand and the two dwarves could see that it was shaking slightly –not enough to hinder wood working, but enough to mess up a delicate job like painting. "The warg that got me tore some muscles or something, making my hand shake if I don't have it completely relaxed. I can keep it pretty steady if I'm holding a chisel or hammer, but a paintbrush?" He shook his head. "Anyway, this one here," he ruffled Ori's hair, "is an artist. I'm sure he'll make it look bright and colorful."
"I'm glad you two like it," Ori shyly mumbled, smiling as he clutched the sketchbook to his chest.
All three looked up as the door to the shop opened. Poking his head into the main room, Bofur grinned broadly. "Bifur! How was the trip?"
"Ghelekh!" Bifur replied. "Gang ku hôfukel. Khulûd urudthador, irmish umah geren."
"Ah, that's good," Bofur grinned. "Ori, show him your sign sketch while Will and I get the glass, will you, lad?" As Ori nodded, he led Will outside; the clouds had grown quite dark that morning and it was threatening to rain. He was sure that Bifur was glad he had returned before the skies opened up. "I think we'll get a storm tonight," he said, his hands on his hips as he looked up at the sky. "Too dark for just rain, though there isn't much wind about."
Will narrowed his eyes as he, too, looked skyward. "Oh, it'll come. The wind always comes when there's a storm. It can sometimes just take a—ouch!" He flinched, looking down at his palms.
Bofur frowned. "What's wrong, lad? Did you cut yourself an' not know it?" He glanced over.
"No….there's nothing wrong with my hands," he murmured, inspecting them closely. "Well, I got a sliver, but I barely notice those anymore. It feels like they're burning."
Taking his hands, Bofur looked them over, his brows knit together in concentration. He flipped them over, inspecting the backs of them too. "That's odd, lad. I don't see anythin' that looks like a burn on them. Don't know how you would have burned 'em, either. We don't have any fire in there. If we did, then I'd be a bit concerned because I sure as Mahal knows didn't start any fire…"
"I know. It's weird," he said, shaking his hands when the dwarf released them. They still tingled a bit, but the pain was gone. "It's gone now, though…" Frowning, he went over to the cart to pick up one of the stacks of glass panes. His brow rose, seeing that there was also two medium-sized baskets of mushrooms, four chests –two large, two small-, and two rolls of leather along with the three small stacks of glass. "What's all this?" His head tilted curiously.
Poking his head alongside Will's arm, Bofur shrugged. "Not sure, really. Oh! Wait, these are our tools," he said, patting the rolls of leather. "Includin', but not limited to our own chisels, hammers, scissors, and files for toy making," he grinned. "And those are mushrooms. Not…entirely sure why he brought mushrooms, t' be honest…I mean, mushrooms are quite delicious, but why he would get them when he was supposed to get glass…"
"Khajima u-azGaliene," Bifur said, stepping outside. "Ubuk dhi gabilêkh udhi ublugâl." He walked over, grabbing one of the glass stacks.
"Ahhh." Bofur looked up at Will. "They're a gift to Galiene," he told him, "because she's a good cook."
Will smiled. "Ah, well, I'm sure she'll appreciate that then. It's not often someone gives her a gift for her skills," he grinned. The pain in his hands forgotten for now, he carried the panes inside, taking them upstairs when Bofur instructed him.
That night, the three of them returned to the inn just as the wind and rain started. Peter raced out of the stables, leading Bofur, Bifur, and their pony into the large building so that could get the animal in a warm stall and their belongings out of the cart in dryness. Will and Ori followed, knowing that they would need some help with the larger chests. By the time they had gotten everything settled in for the night, the wind was howling outside and slamming the rain against the walls and windows.
The dwarves were very thankful that they were inside at the moment.
It was as the four of them were coming down the stairs that they noticed something seemed off about the common room. It wasn't terribly crowded tonight and it seemed that the elves had left. They were halfway down when Ori spotted it.
"Huh. There's people at our table," he said.
Will glanced up. "That's my uncle an' Baylee," he said, frowning. Hopping over the edge of the railing, he hurried over, not noticing that the dwarves were close behind. His sister's back was to him, but he could see that his uncle's brows were furrowed in concentration. "What happened?" he demanded, leaning over to look. Seeing what his uncle was doing, his eyes widened. "Oh merciful Yavanna…Baylee, what did you do?"
She looked up at him, tears soaking her cheeks. "I didn't do anythin' but laundry all day," she told him, her voice shaking slightly.
'This must be why it felt like my hands were burning earlier,' he thought with a frown. Kneeling down, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
"Ooh, that's mighty nasty," Bofur murmured. He, Bifur, and Ori stood at the end of the table, watching as her hands were continuously coated with cool water. "Looks like you got yourself too near t' dragon fire, lass."
"This can happen when someone doesn't make soap correctly," Richard, their uncle, spoke. His voice was quiet as he dipped a clean cloth into the bowl of water before squeezing it over her palms. "Most o' the time, the reaction is mild, but I guess Baylee didn't notice it right away."
"I just thought they were red from all the scrubbin' I've done," she told him. She flinched as he took her hands, gently turning them over. Just the water dripping onto her skin hurt, but whatever her uncle had put into the water would leave her skin feeling cool for a few seconds.
Will gave her a comforting smile. "Hate to say, but it's a good thing you were on linen duty and not Wenna," he quietly told her. "She'd be wailin' her head off." Kissing the top of her head, he gave her a small squeeze before going off into the kitchen, knowing he'd have to take her place that night for serving.
She managed a small laugh. "Aye, she would. But I don't blame her. This hurts!"
Ori frowned. "How can you make soap wrong?" he asked, not noticing Bofur disappearing from his side. "I thought it was just soap…"
"Hukûr aruk u-ûrud kata," Bifur told him. "Zuzna ikuz tanak zatatanak."
"Oohh," he murmured. He sniffed the air; something smelled a little odd. "Do you have anything in that water?" he asked Richard.
Richard glanced up at him, smiling tiredly. "It's a mixture o' lavender an' rose water. Normally I keep them on hand for Galiene, but exceptions are always made."
"He's a healer," Baylee told Ori. She flinched again. "Can't I just rest my hands in the water?"
He shook his head, giving her an apologetic look. "There's not enough for that. I'm afraid this is the last of my store I'm using." His words seemed to make her perk slightly. "Yes," he chuckled, "that means we'll be going to Esgaroth sometime in the near future."
This caught Ori's attention. "Esgaroth's still around?"
"O' course it is," Richard quietly laughed. "It's got a smaller population now, though. A lot of the folk didn't feel safe living in a wooden village anymore –especially with Smaug's remains rotting under them. So, we came here and rebuilt." He sighed, leaning back in his chair and rolling his head on his shoulders. "But, Esgaroth is better capable of growing lavender than we are," he continued. "So, every few months I take Baylee with me t' restock my medicine stores."
Ori nodded in understanding, his eyes a bit wide. He remembered what Esgaroth –Lake Town, as most folk knew it- had been like when he and the rest of Thorin's Company had traveled there five years ago. For the most part, they had been welcomed into the city…he tried to remember what places they had visited while there; had he unknowingly seen Baylee and her family when they were there…?
Richard sighed. "That's all I can do for you, love," he told Baylee. "Until I get more medicine, I'm afraid you'll just have t' tough it out."
"No she won't!" Bofur had reappeared, carrying with him a wooden pot. "Good thing Bifur brought our trunks today," he grinned, pulling a stool up next to Baylee, "otherwise her hands would be like this for days. Almost forgot I had this stuff with me; it's been awhile since I last got burnt, so I haven't used it lately…"
Richard's brows furrowed as he watched the dwarf unscrew the cap. "What is it?" he asked. "May I see?"
He handed the pot over and watched as the man took out a small about, rubbing it between his fingers. "I'm not sure what all is in it, but we dwarrows use it when we get burnt; it heals the burn within a few hours," he told him. "Sort o' like plant magic, but I don't know if the healers who make it say any funny sort o' spells over it or if they just mash a bunch o' herbs together in animal fat. I do know that lavender is in it –mostly t' keep it smellin' nice." He took it back as Richard handed it to him. "Of course, we use it only for minor burns. The smiths have their own concoctions for worse things." He tugged off his knitted mittens and scooped some of the stuff on his fingers. "Your hand, please, Miss Baylee," he said.
She hesitated. "Is it goin' to hurt?"
"A lil', but only at first," he told her. "Once I start rubbin' it in, it'll make your hand go cold."
She glanced at her uncle; he nodded. "My fingertips feel rather chilled and I'm not burnt," he told her. "It's safe, sweetie. I need to go clean this up." As he stood up and walked off, Baylee held her hand out to Bofur.
Being as gentle as he could, he started to spread the salve across the back of her hand. Regardless, she flinched and he quietly cooed to her, knowing that she was in pain. "Should start feelin' your skin coolin' down within a few seconds, lass," he softly reassured her. His hands were much bigger than her own, and yet he was being surprisingly delicate as he carefully massaged the mixture into her cracked skin.
She didn't really know why, but Baylee felt her cheeks turning pink.
"Had t' use a lot o' this stuff when I was still a miner," he told her. He reached over, getting more of the salve on his fingers before continuing to massage it into her hand. "We had these helmets that had little boxes for candles on 'em. Most o' the time, you forget about the candles and go t' push the helmet back an' end up burning your fingers or wrist. This was a lifesaver down there. Think there's still a stack o' empty pots lying around my old house somewhere in the Blue Mountains."
Bifur lightly nudged Ori and leaned over as they watched the two of them. "Khi yulz jâl tûrz darûn khalekâmaduz," he whispered to the younger dwarf. "Sakh uthrukh hi zatâz mâd dhi ruthuk…"
Ori did as he was told, his eyes peeking down at Bofur's hands. Now that Bifur had mentioned it, Ori could see that he was being far more careful than normal; surely it had to be because Baylee was human and not as tough as a dwarf? But if that were the case, why did they both seem to be blushing? And why was Bofur's voice so soft…?
He glanced at Bifur, using Iglishmek. 'You don't think…?' he signed.
Bifur merely shrugged. The two of them looked up as Will walked over, carrying four mugs of ale.
"Galiene thanks you for the mushrooms, Bifur," he told him, setting the mugs down. "She said she'll be putting them to good use tomorrow."
"Tada ghelekh," Bifur grinned.
Baylee leaned over, peeking around Bofur. "Ya got Galiene some mushrooms?" she asked. He nodded. "That's nice o' you," she smiled, looking back down at her hand. It wasn't nearly as red anymore and from about her elbow down felt pleasantly cool.
"Other hand, lass," Bofur told her, getting more of the salve. He gave her a small smile. "How's it feelin'?"
"Much better, thank you," she said, her cheeks still pink.
Will glanced over. "Dwarvish healing medicine?" he asked Ori and Bifur.
Ori nodded. "It helps with burns."
"Will, uncle said I can go with him t' Esgaroth," Baylee grinned, despite flinching as Bofur once more began to massage her hand. "You think papa will let me go?"
He raised his brow, watching as she gingerly picked up her mug of ale and took a drink. "You're no girl anymore, Baylee. I'm sure dad will let you go so long as you ask nicely. Though…" He suddenly wore a highly mischievous grin. "You can get a for-sure yes out o' him if you put on some wet works an' show him your hands."
She rolled her eyes. "No! I'm not usin' 'the look' on papa. I'm too old for that, anyway." She licked away the foam that covered her upper lip.
"But you can guarantee yourself a yes if you use it!"
"I'm just goin' to ask him like a normal person!"
Bifur cocked his brow. "Kulhu hadhidh?" he questioned, looking between the siblings.
"Aye, I'm a bit curious myself," Bofur chuckled. "What's this 'look' you two are arguin' about?" By now, he was using his thumbs to work the salve into Baylee's palm.
"Baylee used to be able to this really pathetic expression," Will grinned. Baylee rolled her eyes again as she took another drink of ale; she was trying to keep herself from giggling because Bofur's touch somewhat tickled. "It looked like a mix between a kicked puppy and an unloved child; it just tore out your heart. She can still do it to a point; she's used it on Aunt Demelza a time or two…"
"I mostly used it when you were gettin' me in trouble for the havoc you caused," she said, setting her mug down. She nodded at the door as three, rain-soaked figures came in. "Customers."
He thanked her before walking off to tend to them.
Bofur glanced up at her. "So, do we get t' see this look o' yours?" he asked, grinning. "or are we left sitting here in curiosity?"
"Yeah, I want to see it!" Ori grinned. He always delighted in seeing new expressions on people; it gave him more ideas about how the face worked for when he was drawing. "Don't you want to see it, Bifur?" The older dwarf made some sort of grunt behind his ale mug –which he was quickly draining.
At that, her cheeks turned deep red. She glanced away, setting her mug down/ "I don't know if I could still do it. I haven't had t' use it for so long…"
"I'm sure you can," Ori told her. "Try thinking of something you really, really want. That could help."
Sighing quietly, Baylee closed her eyes as she thought. Images of her childhood home flooded her mind; she did wish to go back and see her cousins and the few friends who had remained. "Think I've got it," she murmured. Opening her eyes, she put on a rather endearing pout, going so far as to even give her lip a small wobble.
"Dhi hadhidh zurkur Sanna!" Bifur chortled. "Izaruk! Arnâkzu, Bofur?"
"Aye, she does resemble Sanna a wee bit," Bofur smiled. "Sanna's one o' my nieces," he told Baylee. "She's what –three? Four?"
"Gem ra melek," Bifur answered.
"Ah. Three 'n a half. Can't keep track o' all them sometimes. I mean, this next one makes eight lil' rascals. Well…Baraz, Berez, and Biriz aren't too little anymore, but keepin' an eye on all of them is a tough job."
She smiled. "I take it you've had to watch over them a time or two?" He nodded. "I've managed t' luck out o' that. The only folk I know with children know I'm too busy to watch them."
"I've never had to watch dwarrowlings," Ori chirped. "That's the fun thing about being the youngest." He winced slightly as he felt something in his back twinge. Leaning back on his stool, he found himself having to hold onto the table's edge to keep himself from falling. A satisfied 'ahh!' left his mouth as he felt his spine crack a couple of times.
"Aye, but you've been overly mothered by a certain older brother of yours," Bofur told him. "I'm still surprised Dori let you stay down here. Did Nori have to hit him upside the head with his mace?"
He sat up straight once more. "No. Just acting like a chicken did the trick." He finished his ale. "Miss Baylee, when does your uncle normally go down to Esgaroth?"
"Usually in the middle of spring, when the roses and lavender are freshly bloomed," she answered. "He says that's when their oils are at their strongest."
Ori nodded slowly in understanding. Dwarves didn't use many plants when it came to healing; they preferred to keep plants in their food. For healing, they preferred special sorts of clay and pastes that used minerals from the earth. Oin, he knew, liked to use plants when he tended to injures, mostly because they didn't make as big of a mess –but he had also had far more dealings with men than most of the rest of the Company.
"There," Bofur spoke up, bringing Ori out of his thoughts. "That should do it. Just give it a couple o' hours and your hands should be as good as new."
Baylee looked them over; already the redness was beginning to subside and the cracks in her skin didn't seem nearly as bad. "Thank you," she told him, giving him an appreciative smile. "They're already feelin' ten times better." She glanced up, seeing Will, Demelza, and Wenna wandering about the common room, bringing food and drink to various customers and she started to feel a little guilty for not helping. "Well, lads, I think I should go help the others now," she told them as she stood up. "As such, what'll be for your dinners?"
"Thought you'd never ask," Bofur teased.