Chapter Eight
Something was off.
He couldn't say what, exactly, was off. He just knew that something was off.
Bofur opened his eyes and just lay still in his bed. The dim, white light in the room let him know that it was both just barely past sunrise and a cloudless morning. Across from his bed, Bifur was snoring into his pillow and Ori was quietly mumbling in his sleep. Downstairs, he could scarcely hear someone singing as they started breakfast.
'Baylee or Will. Possibly both,' he thought with a yawn. 'Too early for Galiene yet.'
Sitting up, he glanced around the room. Everything was exactly where it had been left the night before, letting him know that Nori hadn't suddenly turned on them and stolen everything. That was always a good thing. He stroked the right side of his long mustache, trying to figure out why he felt odd.
'I should go see Bombur.' The thought had come quite out of the blue; it had nearly startled him, in fact. His brows furrowed, for he only got thoughts like that when something big was about to happen.
Being as quiet as he could, he slid out of bed and walked over to the washbasin. Filling it about an inch deep with water, he went about washing his face and hands before looking up and out of the window. His reflection told him that it was past time to redo his braids. When he bathed two days ago, he had left them in, having been too tired to deal with properly washing his hair. Now, it was really beginning to show.
'I'll do it while grabbing a bite,' he thought, tugging on his trousers with one hand. The other untied the leather thongs that bound his hair, letting the two braids unravel about his shoulders as he shook his head. 'I think it'll be just porridge this morning…'
Soon enough, he was making his way down the stairs, having left a note for the others to find when they woke up. A sweet scent filled the air; he recognized it as Baylee's berry bread and he smiled. If he waited long enough, he could ask her if he could buy a loaf and take it home with him. He was sure the family would appreciate the little gift. Nearing the kitchen, he could hear voices from within –but only one was Baylee's.
"You are improvin', I'll give you that, 'Lee." That was most definitely Warren's voice. "An' look at your arms!" He laughed. "They'll be as big as Will's soon enough. Maybe we should start trainin' you with his mace? That'll get 'em to grow mighty fast."
Bofur poked his head into the kitchen, seeing that Warren was sitting still as Baylee braided half of his beard for him.
"I just want 'em to stop aching. Just when I think I'm gettin' used to one weapon, Aunt Demelza will make me use the other," she sighed, her voice slightly muffled by the length of cord between her teeth.
"Well, it's good for you. Swords aren't always available; you got t' know how to use an axe or two as well. I'd let you use my hammer, but I doubt you'd be able t' lift it."
She rolled her eyes, setting down her brush and pulling the cord from betwixt her teeth, using it to tie off the braid. "Oh, shush. I probably could…" She let out a sigh as she finished tying the strip of leather around the braid she had put in her father's beard. "Not that I'd want to, mind you. That thing would tire me out quicker 'n the no-good sword I've got." Stepping back, she brushed a lock of hair out of her face and glanced up to see Bofur entering the kitchen. "Ah, good mornin', Bofur!" she smiled.
Warren turned on his stool, a long pipe held in his hand as he looked at the dwarf. "Let me guess –lots o' ham an' biscuits for ya this morning?" he joked, some smoke coming out of his mouth and nose. "Or perhaps some bacon an' eggs?"
Baylee tilted her head slightly, noticing that Bofur's hair hung loosely about his shoulders. 'He looks quite handsome with it down,' she found herself thinking.
"Ah, on a normal morning, that'd be quite lovely," the dwarf chuckled, "but I've business in Erebor today, so it'll just be some porridge. I'd like t' get an early start."
Warren tilted his head. "Mind me askin' what sort of business?"
He shrugged as he sat down on a stool, Baylee moving to get him a bowl of porridge. Taking off his hat, he began the process of trying to comb through his hair. "Don't know quite yet, t' be honest. Somethin' in my gut is just tellin' me to go there today. As such, I may be gone a couple o' days, especially if it's anything big."
Warren nodded slowly; it had been nearly two months since the dwarf had left Dale. "Would you like us t' keep your room for you?" he inquired.
"Oh, that'll be lovely," he smiled. "Well, that is if Bifur and Ori don't come in later. I know Ori's in need o' some minerals for his paints an' Bifur likes to tag along since he can't really speak Westron…Ah, thank you, Baylee!" He grinned as she set a bowl of porridge before him. She also set a wooden mug in front of him. He opened his mouth to ask her what it was, but she spoke before he got the chance.
"Some cider t' help wake you up." She smiled at him before going to sit down on her stool again.
Warren leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. Picking up a spoon, he started to mix some fried vegetables together with a bit of gravy before taking a large bite. "So, you don't know what sort o' business is takin' you t' Erebor; just that y'need to go there?" he inquired.
Nodding, Bofur took a bite of his porridge, his other hand still attempting to comb through his hair. "Well, I know there're three possibilities. One bein' that my brother's wife finally gave birth; two bein' that one o' my old friends has turned up; an' three bein' that there's free beer somewhere." At his last suggestion, father and daughter cracked up. "What? I'm serious! Free beer is always a good thing –unless it's green beer. Then that's just cheating folk out o' a good thing."
Shaking his head, Warren leaned back and dumped the contents of his pipe into the waste bucket; normally, he'd do it in the hearth, but the bucket was half full of water this morning. "Aye, it would be," he agreed, "but at least it wouldn't be rancid beer. When I was a lad, one of the old innkeepers back in Lake Town –oh, he was a horribly greedy bastard!- tried serving beer that had gone bad t' his customers. When they complained, he just laughed at them and told them that they paid for it."
Bofur stuck his tongue out –both because of what the old innkeeper had done and because he had gotten his hand caught in his hair, making eating a bit difficult. "Surely someone must've given the bloke his due…?"
"Oh, aye. He was shoved over the pier into the lake an' made to swim t' shore. He wasn't welcomed back into town after that," he explained. "Lucky for me, the place went up for sale for dirt cheap an' I was able to fix it up. It became the first Tankard." He watched as his daughter got up and walked over to the dwarf. He looked back down at his food, more concerned about filling his empty stomach.
"Here," she quietly laughed, helping Bofur untangle his fingers. "You eat; I'll take care o' this." As she stood behind him, she was unable to see that Bofur's cheeks had grown to be quite red and his eyes widened slightly. Reaching over, she snatched up her brush and started to work the locks free of their tangles. She was careful to not tug on the strange tooth he had tied into his hair.
"Th-thank you, Baylee." He managed to make the words sound quite casual, despite his sudden bout of nervousness. It only slightly helped that Warren was too busy eating to see the dwarf's change in behavior. 'Keep it together, Bofur,' he told himself as he shoved a spoonful of porridge into his mouth. 'She's a human lass; she doesn't know that this is a sign of flirtation amongst us dwarrows. Warren however…' He cautiously eyed her father. 'He may know. Mahal, please don't let him mention anything if he does know!'
Mahal must have been on his side that day.
She freed his hair of a rather large snarl. "It's no trouble," she told him. She was surprised at how soft his hair was –and thick. Her brush was hardly able to get through it all. "Papa an' Will normally have me braid their hair all the time, so I'm used t' it."
He glanced over his shoulder at her, his brow raised in amusement. "But Warren hasn't got any hair…" he thought aloud. As Baylee snorted and turned away, caught in a giggle fit, he grinned innocently at the innkeeper, whose brow had risen at the comment.
Warren finished chewing his bite of food and swallowed. "It all moved," he said matter-of-factly. He stroked one of his beard's braids. "The top o' my head must have been too warm, because around the time I lost all that, I got this beard here."
"Well, I must say, it's quite a fine beard. I'm quite envious of it, to be honest." He glanced at Baylee from the corner of his eye as she started to braid his hair. "I can only seem to grow mine in patches." He lifted his mug and took a drink of the cider. A pleased noise left his throat as he found that it had been warmed with some spices added to it.
Nodding in understanding, Warren reached across the table to a seemingly forgotten plate of food. "Though, that's a fine mustache you've got-" He let out a small curse as his daughter suddenly leaned over and smacked the back of his hand with her brush. "Ow! What was that for, 'Lee?!"
"That's my breakfast an' you know it, papa!" Baylee scolded, pouting at her father.
Bofur snorted into porridge; he had never seen such a large man look so scared of someone so small. "Now tha' is a look a pure terror right there!" he laughed.
"I was goin' for the honey pot!" Warren lied –and none too skillfully.
Baylee rolled her eyes, going back to braiding Bofur's hair. "Am I supposed t' believe that when I've got a nice, large slab o' bacon sittin' atop o' my plate, untouched?" She shook her head, sighing. "By the Master's fair town! At least I now know where Will gets it!"
"Master's fair town?" Bofur repeated, tilting his head curiously. "Don't think I've heard that phrase before…"
Rubbing the back of his hand, Warren got up to make himself some bacon. "It comes from Lake Town. They don't have a king; they have a master they elect from a council of wise elders," he explained.
"Oh!" He suddenly nodded. "Aye, I remember. We met the bloke when the Company passed through on our way t' the Lonely Mountain five years ago." Baylee tied off the right braid and moved to start on the left.
Warren glanced over his shoulder at him. "You…were a part of Thorin Oakenshield's Company?" he asked, sounding a bit dazed.
Bofur nodded as he ate some more of his porridge. Reaching over, he added a bit of honey to sweeten it. Baylee let out a quiet giggle as he accidentally dropped the honey dipper into his bowl and fumbled about, trying to get the porridge off of the dipper. He finally succeeded at the expense of getting honey on his fingers.
Clearing his throat, Warren turned back to the shelf. "You may not want t' be telling that to everyone here in Dale," he gently warned. "Not everyone 'round here appreciates the fact that you lot woke the dragon."
He winced as he licked the honey off of his fingers. "Er…aye, I know," he murmured. After all, Lake Town had been destroyed because of the Company; Smaug thought that their Burglar, Bilbo Baggins, had been working for the men of Lake Town and flew down to destroy the city. Not to mention, most of the Company had gotten a mild case of the Gold Fever and had not been entirely kind to the people of Lake Town or Mirkwood before the War…
But in the end they had come round –even Thorin, who had been taken hardest by the Fever. He may have been lying on his deathbed, but he had come around and apologized for his actions.
"We were all more than a little upset 'bout the news of the town's destruction, but at the time we just…Well, there was so much gold, we let it get to our heads." He rubbed the back of his neck, ashamed. "We came to in the end…"
"Everythin' got sorted out, though," Warren continued. "And you're still more than welcomed here. Me 'n my family are some o' the few who are thankful for your coming." He smiled in a friendly manner as he plopped a large slab of bacon into a frying pan; it started to sizzle right away. "If you hadn't gone back t' Erebor, the dragon wouldn't be gone an' we wouldn't have reclaimed Dale. Truth be told, we wouldn't be rid o' the old Master, either." He scratched his chin through his beard. "That man was about t' drive us into the ground because he kept raising taxes…" Reaching into the pan, he quickly flipped the bacon over with his bare hand. "Even though we went through such hardship, our lives are better now."
"Aye, they are. An' the humans aren't the only ones who had great loss…So I know your pain." Taking another drink for his cider, Bofur looked up at Baylee as she finished braiding; she was frowning. "Somethin' wrong, lass?" he asked.
"I don't understand it," she said, lifting the braid. "Your braids normally curl upwards. But now they're just…hangin' limply." Letting go of the braid, it plopped against his shoulder.
He laughed. "That would be a dwarven secret, lass," he said, his cheeks still a bit red. Scraping the last of the porridge from the bowl, he practically shoveled it into his mouth before standing up. "Maybe when I get back I'll teach ya," he grinned, giving her a small, playful wink. Grabbing his hat, he pulled it down over his head. "Oh, have you any o' that fruit bread o' yours out o' the oven yet?"
"Aye, I've a few loaves cooling," she answered, taking a bite of her breakfast before Warren could try to steal any more of it. She had found that he had managed to steal two of her eggs when she wasn't looking. "Would ya like me t' pack one up for you?" She glanced up at her father as he returned to his seat, setting bacon his plate. Reaching over, she stole one of his gravy-slathered biscuits.
"Oi!" he protested, frowning.
"You stole me eggs; I steal your biscuit."
Chuckling, Bofur shook his head at their antics. "Aye, that'd be lovely," he replied. "How much would it cost for the whole loaf?"
Wiping her fingers on her apron, she moved to a shelf near the pantry. "Eh, consider it a small gift," she told him, grabbing a clean cloth. Laying the cloth out, Baylee searched the loaves out for the biggest one –which, with her luck, was resting on the very back of the shelf.
Warren's brow rose as he watched Bofur slip some coins onto the table near her plate and he chuckled quietly, shaking his head.
Nearly two and a half hours later found Bofur opening the door to the mansion he shared with his family. Everything seemed oddly quiet. Too quiet for Bombur's family. Normally, the little ones would be running around, laughing and shrieking as they chased one another while Gerdi would be calling for Baraz or Berez to help with the morning's cooking. Bombur would be getting fruitlessly scolded by Biriz for trying to steal bits and pieces from breakfast.
But none of that was happening.
Someone was most definitely cooking; the air was filled with delicious scents. Bofur could smell ham roasting as well as the earthy scent of root vegetables baking. There were some sweeter notes to the air as well; baked desserts, perhaps? Despite his watering mouth and the quiet growl of his stomach –he was still rather hungry, after all- Bofur knew he had to find the source of all the quiet.
"Hello?" he called out. "Anyone home?"
His voice echoed down the passageways as he unraveled his scarf from around his neck and set it on a hook on the wall. His hat and jacket soon joined it and that was when he heard the hurried footsteps racing down the stairs. The whole while, he was careful to not cause any harm to the still-warm loaf of bread tucked into the nook of his arm.
"Bofur! Oh thank Mahal you're home!" Bombur cried as his immense girth burst into the hallway. Grabbing his brother's arm, he started to tug him back up the stairs. "Gerdi's in labor!"
Bofur let out a loud laugh and slapped his knee. "Ah, so that's where everyone is! I was wonderin' why it was so quiet! I was startin' to think you all had gone out or somethin'!"
He shook his head, his great braided ring of a beard swaying back and forth over his large gut. "No, no…Biriz took the little ones over to Dori's for their lessons –you know, to keep things less chaotic. Berez has been in the kitchen and Baraz has been off at his apprenticeship since before dawn. The midwife is with Gerdi now, but I don't know how things are going."
He cocked his brow. "Why not?"
"I'm not allowed in the room."
"What!? Why not? You're the father o' the babe, aren't you? You should be allowed inside!"
Bombur patted his stomach, giving Bofur a small, sad smile. "I get in the way."
Bofur pursed his lips in distaste. "A dwarrow should be with his wife when she's givin' birth. But, I understand the problem. Isn't there anyone in there for Gerdi t' squeeze the hand o' when it comes time?"
Shaking his head again, Bombur sighed. "Everyone is too busy, except me. I think I've nearly worn a track in the hallway from all the pacing I've done this morning." He blinked as Bofur suddenly handed him the wrapped loaf of bread.
"Don't you worry anymore, Bombur; I'll go take care o' her," Bofur reassured his brother. "She needs someone there." He started up the stairs only to stop halfway. Rushing back down, he pointed an accusing finger at Bombur, who was just starting to unwrap the bread. "Take that straight t' Berez an' no stopping for nibbles! I'll know!" And then he darted back up the stairs just as a strangled cry came from down the upstairs hall. He winced slightly; it wouldn't be the first time he had been present for the birth of one of his nieces or nephews.
Nearing the door, he could hear the midwife gently telling Gerdi that it was almost time to start pushing. He knocked on the door before opening it a crack, poking his head in. The midwife looked up, almost ready to remove his head from his shoulders, but the look softened slightly as she found that it was not Bombur like she had been expecting.
"Bofur! Get in here!" Gerdi ordered, her teeth clenched in pain. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the sheets and she flung her head back, eyes screwed shut as she went through another contraction.
He raced to her side, quickly managing to pry her hand from the sheet in favor of gripping his hand. She had an awfully painful grip, but he wouldn't complain. After all, this was the miracle of life taking place –and, with dwarves, it certainly was a miracle. Not many dwarves ended up getting married, let alone having children. Most males were simply too focused on perfecting their craft. Females, who made up barely a third of their population, could be just as distracted, if not more so. So, for Bombur and Gerdi to soon have eight children was a small, albeit needed, boost to their population.
But Bofur didn't care much about population. He only thought about how he was getting another niece or nephew to spoil.
"Where's Bifur?" Gerdi panted, the contraction having passed.
"He's still in Dale," he answered. "He may be out here later, he may not."
She stared at him, horrified. "You left him in Dale!? He cannae speak Westron, Bofur!"
"Don't you worry, Gerdi –Nori 'n Ori are with him." He smiled reassuringly at his sister in law, cringing as she tightly gripped his hand again with the onset of another contraction.
The midwife glanced up at her. "Gerdi, it's time to start pushing," she told her. "I think you know the steps by now."
She winced and nodded. "On the contractions." Glancing up at Bofur, she swallowed hard. "Is Bombur in the hall?"
"More than likely. He's probably eatin' the bread I brought out of nervousness."
An apologetic look came to her features. "Oh, you brought bread?" She clenched her eyes shut again as yet another contraction came and she started to push. Bofur didn't know whether she was putting more force into delivering the baby or into crushing his fingers. "What kind?" she managed to ask through the pain.
"It's a fruity sort o' bread. The innkeeper's daughter makes it," he explained. He knew full well that this was her way of pushing through pain; having others talk to her. It gave her something to focus on. "It's really quite good. I think she uses mead in it, but it's hard t' say. I've never seen her make it; just kneadin' the dough and tossin' it into the oven."
"Bifur said it's a nice inn."
"You're doing good, Gerdi. I can see the baby's head."
Bofur was just barely able to keep himself from leaning over and looking. The first time he had helped Gerdi through childbirth, he had made that mistake –purely because he hadn't been sure just where the baby would come out or even how it would come out. His parents had died long before it had been time to explain such things to their sons. So, when he had leaned over that first –and only- time, he had been left somewhat disturbed and his head aching from both a hard smack and a scolding from the midwife.
"Aye, it's a nice inn," he told her as she started to push again. "Nice 'n clean, good food, tankards are never empty…The family that owns it is very nice, indeed. Very welcoming folk, they are." He held out his other hand, letting Gerdi squeeze it as well. "Will, the innkeeper's son, has been helpin' me 'n Bifur, but I'm sure he's told you about that." She nodded somewhat. "He's a good lad. Strong as an ox, but as gentle as a lamb…Poor bloke doesn't get enough work though; seems a warg decided to make a snack out o' him during the War an' the scars scare most o' the people. I'm goin' to see how he is with makin' toys; maybe Bifur and me can help get him some steady work."
"Seems like a family we'd have to meet," she panted, her eyes shut tightly.
"How're things going?" Bombur called through the door.
Bofur turned slightly. "Everything's goin' well, Bombur! Don't you worry your head! Ah!" He flinched, positive that at least one of his fingers had become dislocated as Gerdi let out a small scream. The pain in his hand was instantly forgotten as he heard the small, ear-piercing wail of a newly born child.
The midwife smiled as she cradled the infant in her arms, wiping away the bodily fluids of childbirth. "It's a wee lil' girl, Miss Gerdi," she called over the child's crying.
"A girl?!" they heard Bombur called through the door. "You hear that, Berez? You've another sister! We need to pull out our finest mead for this!" For Bombur to have three daughters was something just short of a real miracle. He was more than thankful to Mahal.
Gerdi smiled in relief, finally letting go of Bofur's hands. He looked down at his fingers, more than a little surprised to find that there had been no dislocations, though they were quite white from having all the blood squeezed out of them. "Oh, let me see her," she panted, her head resting against her pillow.
"You'll have to wait a few moments, miss," the midwife said. She motioned for Bofur to draw near and he suddenly found himself cradling the infant as the midwife went about cutting the cord connecting mother and child. He smiled down at the baby girl, finding her both cute and a bit odd at the same time –only her face had really been cleaned off, leaving the rest of her body still coated by blood and…other yuck.
Eventually, when she was swaddled up nice and snuggly in a soft blanket, Bofur's niece ceased her crying and looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. For now, they were blue like her mother's, but he was sure they'd grow darker over time; it was not a common thing for dwarves to have light eyes. However, with her thick, red hair, he hoped they would stay blue. It was a pretty combination.
"She's a wee lil' cutie she is," he said, carrying her up so that her mother could have a turn at holding her. "Just like the rest o' your children."
"Look at all that hair!" Gerdi gasped, taking her from him. She smiled tiredly as she looked down at her daughter, eyes full of nothing but adoration for the infant. "Oh, that's the most hair I've seen on a dwarrowling!" She gently ran her fingers through the thick, gingery curls.
The midwife chuckled. "Well, you and your husband do have quite a bit of hair; it's no wonder she's got such a fine head of it! No doubt, when her beard starts coming in, she'll be the envy of her sisters."
Carefully reaching over, Bofur tickled the infant's cheek. She looked at him and toothlessly smiled. Unlike human and elven children, dwarrowlings (and Halflings, but Bofur didn't know that) were born able to smile right away.
"Oh, you did it again!" Gerdi chuckled, giving Bofur a look that was both teasing and scolding. "You stole another first smile, you old codger!"
He grinned cheekily. "I can't help that my nieces an' nephews adore me right from the start."
Gerdi tiredly look at him, her brow raised, though she chuckled. "The next child born in this mansion is going to be yours, do you hear?"
A small, somewhat sad smile came to his lips. "I've lost that chance a long time ago, Gerdi." Patting her on the shoulder, he stood up and looked back down at his niece, any sorrow on his features disappearing almost instantly. "Aw, she is such a cutie…Her papa should see her. Should I fetch Bombur for you?"
She nodded, also gazing back down at her daughter. "Yes, please," she smiled, nuzzling the baby.
Bofur went to the door and opened it. "She's the cutest lil' thing I've seen in a long while," he told his brother. "Now go take a look at your daughter, eh?"
Bombur didn't need telling twice. He practically bowled his older brother over as he hurried into the room, tears of joy rolling down his chubby cheeks and soaking his beard. Bofur smiled at his nephew, who was leaning against the wall, nervously biting at his nails.
"Another sister for you, lad," he chirped, clapping him on the shoulder. He started to lead him off. "You look exhausted. How long have you been up?"
"Since before either o' them," Berez answered, following alongside him. "I was makin' breakfast with mum when she went into labor. Dad sent me off to the midwife as he carried her upstairs."
He nodded in understanding as they walked down the stairs. "Let me guess –you made breakfast for Baraz?"
Berez sighed and nodded. "That dwarrow needs to learn how to do his own cooking instead of getting me up." He yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth. "Oh…dad didn't eat the bread you brought. I made sure o' it. Where'd you get it from?"
"The inn I've been stayin' at," he answered. They came into the hall just as the front door opened, Bifur poking his head in.
"Did I miss anything?" he asked, stepping into the hall. He started to shed his coat.
"A wee lil' girl," Bofur proudly declared. "Barely ten minutes old."
Bifur's face softened at the news and he smiled fondly. "Another girl? That must be some sort of record for our kind." He hung up his jacket and glanced at Berez. "Lad, haven't you slept?"
"Not much," he chuckled. "Baraz makes sure of that."
"I was just about to make him a spot o' tea," Bofur told his cousin. "Care to join us?"
Baylee sighed, her arms laden with two heavy baskets filled past the brim with bricks of soap. As she came into the inn yard, she could see someone bent over at the well as they drew up the bucket of water. When they straightened, she saw a mess of brown curls and knew it had to be Wenna. A sigh of relief left her mouth.
"Wenna, could ya help me out?" she asked, her shoulders aching from the weight. It did not help that one of her shoulders bore a rather large bruise from yesterday's sparring. If she moved just right, her entire back ached.
Wenna glanced up, her eyes wide. "Baylee! I was lookin' all over for you!" She raced over to the other girl, a large grin on her lips as she gripped her shoulders. "Oh, Baylee –wait 'til ya get inside, lass! We got a group of new customers from Dorwinion today an'-"
Baylee's brow rose and she chuckled. She knew well enough that Wenna only got this excited over handsome men and fresh apple pie. Being that apple pie was out of season…"Uh-oh. How handsome are they?" she asked, some sarcasm in her tone.
Biting her lower lip, Wenna glanced around to make sure no one would overhear her. "They are the most handsome lads I've ever set my eyes on, Baylee," she loudly whispered. Taking one of the baskets from Baylee, she grunted quietly and started to lead her over towards the well. "Since they're from Dorwinion, they've got that rich, golden skin an' that dark hair." She let out a dreamy sigh. "Though, the most handsome of the group –I think he's their leader? He's been doin' all the talkin'- has this deep, red hair." She giggled and bit her lower lip again.
Baylee laughed. "I'll believe ya when I see 'em," she mused, doubting the extent of the men's looks. Wenna had a tendency to over exaggerate, especially when it came to males. "For now, help me get this soap into the storage room, aye? My arms are killin' me."
Pulling a key from around her neck, she walked to the very back of the yard and up a small flight of steps to a heavy wooden door that was partially covered by ivy. Unlocking the door, she let Wenna step in first before also entering and locking the door again behind her. Distantly, she could hear the laughter of men and women as they drank and ate.
"When I was in the market, I heard talk that two caravans came in today," she said, setting her basket on a low shelf before beginning to stack the soap. "One of them was attacked by raiders. D'ya know if these blokes are from that caravan or not?" She was careful to separate the linen soap from the bathing soap; she had made the mistake more than once in her youth of grabbing the wrong soap for her bath.
She nodded. "Aye, they are. Your uncle's tended t' a couple of them, but they were able to mostly avoid gettin' hurt. From what they've said, they were attacked just barely a day out from the city."
"That isn't good," she murmured, knowing that this could affect whether or not she would get to go to Lake Town. "Those raiders are gettin' real vicious lately, aren't they?"
Wenna glanced at her as Baylee, too, started to stack soap. "Well, wouldn't you? They live in Manwë knows where and the caravans that travel between Dorwinion, Dale, an' Esgaroth are full o' goods and money. Taking those goods an' gold is their way o' surviving," she chuckled. "It almost sounds like fun."
"They're leeches who attack innocent people out o' greed, Wenna," Baylee told her, her tone stern. "They're no better 'n goblins. You've seen the damage they can do –they don't care if you're man or woman or child; if you're in the way o' the goods they want, they could kill ya without a second thought. Just ask Will. They're no one t' be pitied."
Her cheeks reddening in embarrassment, Wenna glanced away. "I didn't mean it like that," she murmured, though she knew it would be useless to lie. "I just…"
"You just wish that someday a handsome man whisks ya away on the back o' his horse and takes you on an adventure," Baylee sighed. She shook her head and let out a quiet laugh.
She pouted slightly and turned, facing her friend. "Well, don't you ever have dreams of handsome men and a life of adventure?" She leaned against the shelf, watching Baylee. "Don't you ever just wish you could give this boring inn life up? Serving customers all day gets so…so repetitive after three years! Why not go out into the wild world to find treasure an' huntin' orcs an' goblins and marrying a handsome bloke?"
Baylee glanced at her from the corner of her eye. Grabbing Wenna's half-full basket and starting to stack her soap, she let out a quiet sigh. "It's nothin' like the stories, Wenna. You can't be properly prepared for it –especially when they're runnin' at you, shoutin' 'Death! Death!' or 'Feast upon man flesh!'."
Wenna swallowed hard; there was no laughter in Baylee's tone –in fact, it was positively grim. She had never heard her speak in such a manner. "I'm sorry, "she quietly told her, looking away. "I forgot about…yeah…"
She shook her head and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, which was partially covered by a winding cuff shaped into a flower. Wenna knew it had been fashioned in such a way to hide a part of Baylee's ear that had been ripped off during the War. "The person I want t' marry someday is goin' to be sweet an' lovin' an' funny," she told her, changing the subject. "I don't care if he's handsome; it'd be nice, but he doesn't have t' be. So long as he loves me an' treats me well, I'll be content."
At that, Wenna managed a small giggle. "An' what if he were a dwarf?"
"A dwarf?" she laughed. "Fine by me. They've got handsome beards." She put the smaller of the two baskets inside the other before setting them on the floor. "C'mon. From the sound of it, we're goin' to be busy tonight." Leading Wenna out of the storage room and down the hallway, she was stopped just short of entering the common room as Wenna tugged her into the kitchen. "Wenna, what're you-"
She pointed at a table in the corner of the room where a group of men and women sat; all were dressed like rangers. "That's him!" she hissed, motioning towards the man in the middle. He was laughing at one of his companion's jokes.
"Oh…" Baylee murmured, her eyes widening.
For once, Wenna had not lied. The entire group was made up of handsome people –she was sure the fact that they were foreign helped with that- but their leader seemed especially so. Baylee couldn't tell if it was because of his golden eyes, his auburn hair, or his warm smile, but there was just something about that man that managed to make him more attractive than the rest.
"He is handsome…" she mumbled.
"Isn't he?" Wenna sighed. "Give him a crown an' he could be a king, here to take me away to his kingdom in the east…"
Baylee shook her head and looked down at the younger woman, seeing a dreamy look on her face. Shoving the thought from her mind, she brushed some hair from her face. "It's just because he's from Dorwinion," she firmly told her. "Give 'im paler skin like us and I'm sure we wouldn't look twice at him."
"Oh, I would. Maybe even thrice. Now if he'd just stand up so I can see his ar-"
"Wenna!"
The younger girl bolted upright as Demelza came up behind them. "Y-yes, Miss Demelza?" she asked, turning. Her cheeks were bright red as she looked at the blonde woman.
Demelza raised her brow, handing her an empty basket. "Galiene's almost out of rosemary, sage, an' oregano," she told her. "Off you go! No dawdling, either. She needs them for dinner!"
Wenna looked rather heartbroken as she was ushered out of the kitchen door. Baylee was unable to keep herself from giggling as she went to put on an apron. Sometimes, that girl was just a little too boy crazy.
"Good move, auntie," she told her aunt. "I take it she's been tryin' t' flirt since the lads got here?"
Galiene chuckled. "You know her. We don't know if any have flirted back, but I can tell you that she's too young for them. She's only twenty; that whole group must be in their early thirties at the least."
Demelza shrugged. "A few of the women seem to be in their twenties still."
"Strange seein' female rangers," Baylee commented. "I thought Lovisa was the only one this side o' the mountains."
Her aunt gave her a look. "Excuse me? There are plenty o' female fighters out there in the world –an' yes, on this side of the Misty Mountains. They're just not as common because, for some odd reason, the men don't want us fighting alongside them."
Baylee smiled innocently at her aunt. "An' you're one of the best warriors I know, auntie," she sweetly told her. Galiene snickered, shaking her head while Demelza rolled her eyes.
"Have you eaten yet?" the two women asked in unison.
She blinked, a little taken aback by the suddenness of the question. "Um…not since breakfast?"
"Then here." Galiene grabbed a plate and piled it high with food for Baylee before setting it on a platter filled with soup, roasted vegetables, and some bread. "Take this out to Master Nori and have yourself a spot o' lunch with him before you start servin' others. Poor bloke has been by himself the last two days…"
The platter was thrust into her hands before she could argue. Rolling her eyes, she blew a lock of hair out of her face and went out into the common room, Demelza following behind her with two platters of drinks for the group from Dorwinion. Some of them watched Baylee as she went and set the platter down at Nori's table, but she didn't seem to notice.
"Afternoon, Miss Baylee," Nori smiled, a pipe in his hand.
"Afternoon, lad," she replied, sitting down on the stool normally taken up by Bofur. She set his plates and bowls in front of him. "Hope you haven't felt too lonely while the others have been away." Pulling her own plate towards her, she found that Galiene had given her some roast chicken breast and mashed potatoes covered in thick, brown gravy.
He shrugged, tucking the pipe into a pouch on his belt. "Not terribly. It's been a nice, quiet break, truthfully," he told her. "Mostly because I get t' eat all of my food on my own."
She laughed. "That is true. Though, in their defense, I see you stealing their food just as often as they steal yours."
A sheepish grin came to his lips before he started to eat. "How's your sparrin' coming along?"
A quieter, more embarrassed laugh left her mouth. "Alright, I guess. Aunt Demelza has been pushin' me real hard lately, since we're just two weeks from headin' out."
"As she should," he said with a small nod. He slurped down a few spoonfuls of his soup. "You know, if you wanted, I don't do much while here and those sparring lessons take away two waitresses. I could give you a lesson or two if you an' your aunt wanted. You'd also be learnin' to defend yourself against a totally different fightin' style, since I don't use axes or swords."
She tilted her head, chewing on some of her chicken. "What do you use, then?" she asked when she swallowed the bite.
"Two knives, mostly. Sometimes I use a mace." He tore some bread from the loaf, dipping it into his soup. "Help yourself to the bread, by the way. I'm sure I won't be able t' eat all of it."
Nodding, she reached over for the bread and ripped off a small piece. "Thank-you," she chirped, "for the bread an' the lesson offer. I'll ask Aunt Demelza 'bout it in a little bit. She an' Galiene are kind o' forcing me to eat before I get 'round to serving."
He laughed. "That small plateful isn't much of a meal if they're forcing you to eat," he grinned. "If you were Erebor and being forced to eat, lass, you'd have an entire table of food before you. An' trust me –with how small you are for a human, you'd easily be mistaken for a skinny dwarf. There'd be so many folk tryin' to get you to eat, you'd be sick of food within the hour."
"Well, unlike dwarven women, I don't have myself a beard so it'd be impossible t' mistake me for a dwarf," she chuckled, mixing her gravy with her mashed potatoes. "And I don't think I'd be able to grow much of one, even if I tried."
Nori shrugged. "I'm sure there are a few women who could help you with that. There's bound to be some sort of concoction they've come up with t' help them grow fine, thick beards. Gerdi, Bombur's wife, uses this oil in her hair that made it grow three times as thick…" He wore a teasing grin as he glanced at her. "I could ask her what it is, if you'd like."
She giggled, her cheeks turning pink from mirth. "I'm not so sure I'd look good with facial hair. I'll think I'll just keep what hair I've already got an' call it good."
He used his fingers to pick up some of the roasted vegetables. "I don't know. You may look good with a pair of sideburns or a mustache." He tossed a sprout into his mouth, thinking about how Ori would have made a face if he had been there.
She snorted into her food before wiping her fingers on her apron. Reaching back, she undid her hair and grabbed two, long locks, holding them under her nose. "Like this?" she giggled, her cheeks still red.
"Aye, there ya go!" Nori laughed, lightly smacking his knee. "Just braid 'em together and use a bit of glue to hold 'em in place –no dwarf would be the wiser!"
Again, she snorted, letting her hair fall back onto her shoulders. "I still don't think it'd be the best look for me," she giggled, taking a bite of her potatoes. "Maybe sideburns would look better?"
He shrugged. "I don't know –plenty of male dwarrows would find you rather attractive. Some of them already do, even without the 'mustache' or sideburns," he chuckled. His brow rose as he watched her cheeks grow darker.
"Wh-what do you mean?" she stammered, brows furrowed in confusion. "I only know a few dwarves."
"Exactly." He grinned mischievously. "One o' the lads in our little group fancies you." He let out a small laugh. "I'd tell you…but I am not at liberty t' say who it is. It's his job, after all. Though, it'll be fun seein' you try to guess which one it is. Also, I swear by Durin's long beard that it isn't me."
She poked at her potatoes with her spoon. "Why would a dwarf fancy me, though?" she asked. "I mean, I'm just an ordinary human; there's nothin' special about me."
"I don't know, Baylee…he finds you pretty special." Taking a drink of his ale, he glanced up when the door opened. He slightly choked on the alcohol when he saw who walked in.
"Mister Dwalin!" Baylee chirped, thankful for the distraction. "Long time no see!"
Dwalin's brow rose and a bit of a smile came to his lips as he saw the girl. "Hello, Miss Baylee," he said, coming towards the table. "An' Nori! I was lookin' for yeh, lad. Saw Ori an' he said I may find yeh here."
Nori swallowed hard as the large dwarf heartily patted him on the back. "O-oh, is that so?" He said, coughing slightly from the ale he had inhaled. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Baylee bounced to her feet and hurried behind the bar. "What do you need?" He prayed to Aulë that it didn't involve a certain human's wife…
Sitting down, Dwalin grinned knowingly. "I think yeh know why, laddie."
"No, honestly, Dwalin, I don't." He hid behind his soup bowl, finishing its contents, despite suddenly feeling rather nauseous.
Dwalin laughed a deep, throaty laugh –it unexpectedly brought reassurance to the other dwarf. He knew that laugh was one of pure mirth. "I can't get a decent game o' checkers in any of the taverns back in Erebor," he grinned. "You're the only one who puts up a good enough fight! Ah, thank yeh, Miss Baylee." He took the mug from her as she returned to the table. "I see this place is still gettin' a good amount o' customers."
"Aye, it is," she smiled. Most of her blush had faded by now, though Nori noticed as she pulled her hair back, that a bit of pink still remained. "Just got a group o' Dorwinion folk in today." She nodded towards the corner. "Can I get ya anythin' t' eat?"
He grinned again. "Have yeh any roasted chickens?"
"Aye, we do. Shall I fetch ya one?"
Nodding, he glanced around the common room, glancing at what other people were eating. "An' bring some sides out, too. I'm not too picky, so just make 'em a surprise."
She put her mostly-empty plate onto her tray, also gathering up Nori's empty soup bowl. "Will do. Nori, would ya like some more soup?"
He shook his head. "I'm fine, thanks. But more ale would be nice." He handed her his mug, watching as she walked off. "So you're really just here for checkers?" he inquired.
Dwalin's brow rose. "Why else would I be here?" he chuckled. "Yeh didn't get yourself into trouble, did yeh?"
"No, of course not." He shoved a roasted carrot into his mouth. "I'm just here for a little holiday."
Crossing his arms, he leaned back in the chair. "Mhm…See, Ori told me that yeh were here doin' some business for Dori." Nori paused for the briefest of moments; it would have gone unseen by most, but Dwalin had a well-trained eye. "So, one o' yeh is lyin' to me and I doubt it was Ori. He's too sweet t' lie."
Nori's brow rose slightly; 'sweet' was not normally a word Dwalin used in reference to males. "I've finished up with the business," he said with a shrug. "So now it's a holiday."
"Mhm. I'll believe that when I shave me beard."
They both fell quiet as Baylee returned. She set Nori's mug of ale in front of him before setting her tray down. "Nori, auntie said that it'll be alright if you take over tonight's practice," she told him. "But she requests that you use the knives, not the mace." She set some plates of food in front of the taller dwarf.
Nori nodded in understanding. "Fair enough. Just let me know when you want t' practice an' I'll be ready."
"Practice?" Dwalin asked as Baylee started to walk off. She would have explained, but one of the female rangers was hailing her.
"Miss? Could we get some more ale?" she asked.
"Aye, you can," Baylee smiled. She walked over and set her tray down, taking the empty mugs as they were handed to her. "Was it ale for all o' you or…?"
"I had beer," three of them said while another two told her that they had had cider.
A wine goblet was set in the midst of her tray. "Wine, if you please, miss," said their leader. He gave Baylee a small smile and thankful nod as she lifted the tray.
"I'll be right back," she told them, smiling in return. As she crossed the room, she was positive that, had Wenna been there, she would have been the envy of the younger woman. Not that she cared much at the moment; she was still trying to guess which dwarf fancied her. Nori had roused her curiosity, though she knew full well that she was too shy to ask each dwarf himself. Not to mention, it would be rude…With a sigh, she figured that she would have a very slim chance of ever finding out who it was.
Before she really realized it, she was back at the rangers' table, setting various mugs in front of their owners. Grabbing the goblet, she set it beside the leader and noticed that none of them had any food set before them.
"Are you lot waitin' for food or have ya ordered yet?" she inquired.
"We haven't ordered yet," he replied, "though we'd like to now." As she nodded, he made a small gesture to his companions, who fell quiet so he could speak. "We'll have three plates of sausages, two of roasted vegetables, four chickens, three loaves of bread, some fruit if you've any, those three-" he pointed at two women and a man across the table from him, "-will have soup. Is there anything I'm forgetting?" He leaning over, glancing at each of his companions curiously.
One of the men with lighter hair than the rest leaned forward. "Have you any cakes?" he asked.
She nodded. "We've some seed cakes, some honey cakes, an' some beer cakes."
He looked a little confused. "Beer cakes? Never heard o' those."
"They're more on the savory side; they go pretty good with stews an' fish."
The man nodded in understanding. "Then I'll have two honey cakes."
Baylee nodded slightly. This was a large order to remember…but it wasn't the largest she had been given in her lifetime. "All this will take a bit o' time to get prepared, so I apologize in advance for any delays," she told the leader.
"It's wholly understandable, miss…?" His brow rose slightly and a small grin came to his lips.
"Baylee," she replied.
He held out his hand. "Rán," he told her as she moved to shake his hand, but instead, he raised her hand to his lips and placed a small kiss on the top of her knuckles. "And I thank you for your service."
Her cheeks turned bright red. "Heh, well, it's my job, milord," she chuckled, a bit of shyness coming to her tone. 'Best not tell Wenna about this,' she thought before hurrying off to tell Galiene the order and help prepare it. 'She'll have my head!'