A/N: Sorry for delay with this chapter. It took me a couple of days to work up the confidence to work on it thanks to a bout of 'My art and writing sucks weh weh weh'. But, as you can see, I got over that (even if it did take a few days and lots of music). I'd like to thank one of my tumblr followers, iwillbeoldwithamillioncats, for letting me ramble to them and for helping me figure out some upcoming stuffs in the fic. Oh, I can't wait to get to those chapters...mwahaha...
Chapter Eleven
"I honestly have no idea what t' get Baylee for our birthday. I mean, we'll be turnin' twenty-four. What does a twenty-four year old woman want for her birthday?"
"Well, I know when I was tha' age, I was rather fond o' pretty dresses an' shiny trinkets."
Will grinned as he tilted his head back, looking up at Adela. "You still are," he told her.
She smiled tenderly, running her fingers along his scarred cheek. "Most women are, silly," she told him, her other hand brushing some of his blonde hair from his face. "A word of caution, however: A new dress probably wouldn't be the most ideal gift. Speakin' from experience, dresses get ruined mighty fast when ya work in an inn."
"So then jewelry would be best?"
"Leave jewelry for her future lover t' get her." A quiet laugh left her mouth. "You're her twin, sweetheart," she told him. "You, above anyone else, know 'er best. It shouldn't be this hard for ya t' think of something."
"Yeah…but…" He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "I've been gone so much the last two years, we've grown a bit apart. When I came back this last time…that's when I realized she's actually an adult and not just a child anymore."
She gave him a pitying smile. "Sweetheart, she's your older sister. How can ya not think o' her as an adult?"
Cracking open an eye, he softly chuckled. "Have you seen how small she is, Adela?" he laughed. "She's dwarf-sized."
"Oh, she is not!" she giggled.
"She's barely two inches taller than one o' the dwarves stayin' at our inn!" He shook his head, still grinning. "Anyway. The only thing I really know 'bout her anymore is that she loves the color yellow an' that she loves t' make people happy."
Adela nodded in understanding. "An' she has a fondness for sunflowers an' cows."
Will snorted. "I should find a cow, paint it yellow, and make it a crown o' sunflowers. It'd be the perfect gift for her an' Galiene. We'd always have fresh milk an' Baylee would get a pet."
She cracked up, leaning back against the wall. "Somehow, I don't think your da' would agree t' that." As Will continued to cheekily grin at her, she cocked her brow and plopped some blades of grass on his face. "So, what do you want for ya birthday?"
He sat up, brushing the grass from his face. Leaning over, he rubbed his nose against her cheek. "I'll be content if I can steal a few hours t' be with you," he murmured, kissing her cheek.
Her brow rose and she smirked, lightly shoving him away. "You do that all the time," she joked, moving to stand up. "What d'ya really want?" Brushing off her skirt, she watched as small blades of grass fell to the ground.
Will rested his shoulder against the wall, watching as she went over to the dried up fountain that stood in the middle of what had once been a noble's yard. It was their favorite spot to escape to; their fathers would never think to seek them out there and if ever they did, there were plenty of trees for them to hide in. An added bonus was that the trees would be full of fruit come harvest time.
Adela had started to hum and dance, her hair and hips swaying to unheard music. "You know…" he mumbled, transfixed by the movement of her body and the sound of her voice, "the only thing I really want is for our dad's t' not hate each other so we don't have t' hide."
She glanced over her shoulder at him. "That'll be a miracle," she replied sarcastically. "They've hated each other since their younger years."
Standing, he went over and caught her just as she hopped off of the edge of the fountain. He wore a proud grin as he held her against him, spinning them in a small circle. Adela let out a surprised giggle and wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling him affectionately. Setting her on the ground, Will kissed her shoulder and buried his face in her neck.
"How did I managed t' snare a wonderful bloke like you?" she murmured.
"Your cookin' helped," he murmured teasingly. "Though, I should be the one wonderin' how I managed t' get you since I seem t' scare everyone else."
She frowned and leaned back, looking him in the eye. "William Braddock, don't you ever let me hear ya say tha' again!" she scolded. "Just because you've got those scars don't mean that you scare folk!" She gently ran her hand along the scarred flesh.
"Ya got these scars fightin' t' defend our people an' if anyone is afraid o' them an' the way they make you look…why…Irmo haunt their dreams for their stupidity!" Her cheeks had become flushed with anger and her lips were pursed in a pout; Will didn't have the heart to tell her that she looked more adorable than threatening. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed the tip of his nose. "Personally, I think they make ya look like the most handsome man in Middle Earth."
Giving her forehead a peck, he held her close to his form. "Love you too, Adela," he chuckled.
She kissed the tip of his nose. "Now answer me: What do ya want for your birthday?"
Shaking his head, he quietly laughed; he knew she would not give up until he had told her something. "How 'bout one of your cakes? I know it'll be too early yet for raspberries, so…just any sort o' cake. I can share it with Baylee an' dad will never know."
Adela smiled and crossed her arms proudly. "Now there's somethin' I can make happen. I'll see what I can do. Can't guarantee your sister will get any if you see it first, though. I know how much ya like cake." She grinned teasingly, ducking out of the way as he tried to grab her for a hug.
"Maybe if you became a baker, dad wouldn't mind 'us' so much," he grinned, chasing after her. "He's mostly against the fact that your dad has an inn, too."
She playfully tapped her chin, though Will could tell she was seriously contemplating his words. "I do enjoy bakin'," she murmured. "It's a thought." She twirled her skirts, managing to hit her lad in the face with them as she turned away, once more evading capture. "But for now, I'm more inclined t' just make cakes for you."
He grinned, ducking into the shadows of a building; the moon was only a sliver in the sky, leaving him with plenty of cover. "Or we could run off to Lake Town and live happily ever after." His voice drifted around the yard and he watched as Adela spun around, trying to find him.
"Very funny, William," she chuckled, trying to spot him. Even with squinting, however, she couldn't spot him. Will may have been huge and light-haired, but after having spent years as part of Lake Town's guard and army, he knew how to hide himself well. "Now why don't ya come out o' those shadows and give me a kiss?"
Strong arms suddenly embraced her from behind and she let out an amused laugh as Will teasingly kissed up her neck. "It's what you get for smackin' me with your pretty blue dress!" he grinned, nuzzling her.
"William Braddock, you are a pain in the arse!" she giggled, cheeks red.
"Strange…normally I'm called an arsemunch."
Her brow rose. "No, I assure ya –you're just an arse." A cheeky grin came to her lips and she stood on tiptoe, craning her head back to kiss his cheek. "But, you're mine so it makes things a wee bit better."
Bifur stood on his tiptoes, carefully arranging a set of mechanical birds on a shelf. He had spent months perfecting these little winged toys, getting them so that their wing moments perfectly imitated the movements of real birds. It had helped that, during his time as part of Thorin's Company, they had flown atop giant eagles so he was able to get a close-up of the movements. Translating those movements into small, wood-and-metal figurines had been no easy feat, however.
But to see his hard work being arranged on a shelf in a shop due to open the next day filled him with pride. He spent nearly a quarter of an hour trying to come up with the best way for the birds to be arranged, from simply going from smallest bird to largest, or staggering them so that a large bird rested between two smaller ones. Eventually, he had decided that the largest of the toys would sit in the middle of the shelf, with those being on the outside the smallest.
Stepping back, he put his hands on his hips and admired his arrangement. They sat on the topmost shelf, with only the painted blue sky behind them. From his vantage point, the birds looked as if they were soaring. He knew that the children of Dale who were shorter than him would think so as well.
Bofur came into the room, carrying a small chest. He glanced over at his cousin, his brow rising. He was about to ask what he was looking at when he spotted the birds on the top shelf. Both brows now rose and he grinned. "That looks mighty nice there, Bifur," he told him, speaking in Khuzdul. It was just him and Bifur in the shop so far that morning. "I'm sure they'll be some o' the first things to be sold."
Bifur glanced over his shoulder at the younger dwarf. "You think so?" he asked, sounding a little unsure.
He nodded, moving to stand alongside his cousin. "Oh, aye, I'm certain. I mean, once the wee ones see how lifelike the birdies are when ya crank the wheel –oh, they'll be wantin' 'em by the dozen, for sure. An' remember –you've already sold one off to that lil' old man at the Tankard this morning."
Looking down at his feet, Bifur smiled fondly. "That is true. And it wasn't even for a child; the man was just so amused by the toy…" He felt Bofur pat him on the back.
"We'll do just fine –your toys 'n mine will sell quite nicely here. An', as Dale expands, we'll get more an' more children t' make toys for. We may even have t' hire our nephews t' help make toys."
At that, Bifur laughed. "I think you know as well as I that Bombur hasn't taught any of those lads a thing about toy making. If anything, we'll have to make William our apprentice."
"Which isn't a bad thing. The lad's a fast learner, and he's a gentle soul. The children seem far less scared o' him than the adults…"
"Don't know why anyone scared of him, to be honest," Bifur commented, moving to open the chest Bofur had brought in. "They're just scars. No one's afraid of the axe sticking out of my head, so why should they be scared of young William?"
Shrugging, Bofur also went over to the chest, pulling out a few rolls of fine, shiny cloth and some small bundles of wooden dowels. "Humans are odd folk like that. They're willing to fight to the death against orcs, but they get scared o' a few scars?" He shook his head. "Meanwhile, t' us dwarrows, scars are a sign o' battle prowess."
"Or sheer stupidity," Bifur added. "Remember when young Jurik splashed molten gold all over his arm?"
The two dwarves shook their heads, sighing at the memory. In the end, Jurik had had his arm amputated due to the severity of the burns -all because he had ran across a forge while holding a bowl of molten gold. It was his price to pay for ignoring one of the most important rules of the forge: Never, ever run –always walk with caution.
"That is one mistake he'll never forget again, that's for sure," Bofur murmured, unfurling one of the rolls of cloth on the floor. As it stretched out, Bifur could see that it was actually a kite in the shape of a silvery fish with long whiskers coming out of its face. Bofur made quick work of inserting the dowels into various places on the cloth before carefully setting it aside. "Do you remember when Will said he'd show up today?" he asked, flicking out the second roll. This time, the kite was shaped like butterfly.
"Sometime after lunch," Bifur replied. "He was going to see about getting a real spear for Baylee and possibly sharpen some of his chisels." He knew full well that Will's tools had been greatly dulled by all the work he had done for the two dwarves, but they were going to pay him handsomely in return. "Have you noticed that he looks a bit tired lately, by the way?"
Bofur looked up, grinning. "Didn't you see him dancin' with that lass the other night?" Bifur shook his head. "He's got himself a lady-friend. No doubt he sneaks out at night t' see her; Warren didn't look too impressed, though. He kept giving the woman dark looks."
"Maybe he just doesn't like the idea of his only son fancying someone?" Bifur chuckled. "Baylee disappeared that night, though…Do you know what happened to her?"
His cheeks turning pink, Bofur looked down at the kite again. "She, er, fell asleep."
Bifur's brow rose. "Fell asleep? With such a din like that being made?"
"It was durin' a ballad. I guess she had had such a long day, she just sort o'…fell asleep while I braided her hair." He kept his back to his cousin as he started to assemble a third kite, a bird.
Crossing his arms, Bifur grinned proudly. "Braidin' her hair, were you?" he asked, his voice teasing. "You best be lucky that Will and Warren don't seem to know what that means to us dwarrows."
"Neither of them was around," he retorted, his cheeks burning, "and I wasn't flirtin'! It kept gettin' stuck in her ear cuff, so I offered to braid it for her. It was nothin' more than polite concern. Just ask Nori; he was there."
"Nori's convinced that you fancy Baylee, so I'm sure he'll say that you were, in fact, flirting."
Bofur stood up in a bit of a huff, going over to the chest. "I don't fancy Baylee. She's a sweet girl and helpful t' boot, but I don't fancy her! An' even if I did, nothin' would come of it. She's more than likely got a flock of young human men chasin' after her. Where did those rolls of kite string go?" He frowned, searching through the chest but not finding the spools he was looking for.
Bifur cocked his brow, amused as he remembered how his cousin had acted about his first love in his youth –very much in the same manner. He wasn't angry –Bofur very rarely got angry- but rather…defiantly embarrassed. Some people would confuse it for anger, but those same people simply didn't know Bofur. "They should have been in that chest, cousin. That's where we always put the string."
"Well, they're not in there."
"Then you'll just have to go buy some, won't you?" His tone betrayed his amusement and he ignored the small scowl Bofur gave him. Bofur wasn't able to scowl very well; it was as if Aulë had designed his face specifically for smiling. Any other dwarf could scowl perfectly well, but Bofur's attempt made it seem more as if he was suffering from a painful bowl movement.
Putting the kites atop the counter, Bofur brushed his knees off. "I'll be back then," he stiffly told his cousin. Walking out the front door, his mood was almost instantly changed. The day was a warm, sunny one with not a cloud in sight. It seemed as if all the flowers in Dale had chosen today to be the day that they burst into life, filling the streets with bursts of violet, red, yellow, and blue. Children ran around, laughing as they chased pets and each other. In the distance, he could see crudely made kites being flown over the city's walls.
He had wandered quite far from the shop when he came to realize something: He had no idea where he could find string for kites. Wood, metal, and bricks –he knew where to find those, but string? Bofur supposed he would find that with the same shops that sold cloth.
But where in Middle Earth were they?
Scratching the back of his neck, he looked around. At the moment, he was nearing the blacksmithing district; he could smell hints of sulfur and smoke in the air. Two streets down, he would be in the wood working district. His brows furrowed and he scratched his chin. The left side of the street seemed to be dedicated to the more masculine guilds and shops…Would the right side be full of things for females and clothes?
It was worth a chance.
Turning right, he headed down a street. He was more than a little surprised to see himself surrounded by various bakeries and butcher shops. The smells in the air were delightful and his stomach growled in protest to him not stopping to fill it.
"You'll get food soon enough, Bofur," he quietly scolded himself. "First an' foremost, you need t' get that string." He continued on his way, turning round into another street. This one was vastly less populated, without a few people here and there; walking through it, he came to realize it was in the shoemakers' district again. "Wrong again," he mumbled. He was beginning to wish that Dale was more like Erebor –where large signs advertised what was sold down each road.
"Bofur?"
He blinked and spun around only to see Baylee and Will walking towards him. He grinned, giving them a small wave. "Hello, you two."
"Lookin' for a new pair of boots, are you?" Will chuckled.
He shook his head. "No, no…I'm tryin' to find a place where I could buy some string. Bifur 'n me want t' hang some kites from the ceilin', but we can't do that without string…or you, actually." He grinned cheekily before noticing the tall spear that Baylee was holding. It was as tall as Will. "Huh…Now that's a spear," he thought aloud. "Nearly twice your height there, lass."
She laughed, her cheeks turning a bit pink. "It is not! Maybe twice your height, but not mine."
Bofur stood on his tiptoes, effectively making him as tall as the human. "You were sayin', lass?" he teased.
Giggling, she poked his nose, sending him back onto his heels. "Nice try, lad."
Will snorted. "Let her have a little glory," he told Bofur. "She's never been taller than someone who isn't a child. Ow!" He laughed as Baylee smacked his shin with the butt of the spear.
Hooking his thumb in his belt, Bofur chuckled. "Ah, it's alright. So…Do either o' you know where I could find some string?"
Baylee nodded. "I'll take ya t' the better shop," she told him. "Will needs t' get home an' change his clothes so he can get them in the wash before papa skins him alive." She looked mildly amused as she glanced at her brother.
"Why? What happened?" the dwarf inquired, his brows furrowing. They rose in amusement as Will turned around, showing him that, from bum to shoulders, Will was covered entirely by red paint. "Ha! How'd ya manage that, lad?" he laughed, lightly smacking his leg.
Will's cheeks flushed the same shade of red. "Well, er…"
"He snuck off for a few minutes with his lady friend while we were supposed t' be lookin' for spears," Baylee tattled. "Neither knew that her father just had the outside o' their inn painted." She glanced up –way up- at her brother, a mixture of amusement and disappointment on her features. "If papa asks, though, I shoved him an' he fell against the inn."
"Ahh, I see," he mused, nodding his head in understanding. "Well lad, you best do as your sister says –dry paint is hard t' get out of clothes; even harder than blood sometimes. I'll see you at the shop later though, right?"
"Aye, you will," Will grinned. "Otherwise you'd never get those kites in time t' open tomorrow." He gave them a wave and started to walk off.
"You're openin' tomorrow?" Baylee chirped, her eyes widening happily. She started to lead Bofur back up the street.
He nodded again. "Aye, we are. Bifur 'n me are setting up the shelves with toys today an' gettin' everything all nice lookin' while Ori makes us a bit o' a sign to let people know we're openin'." As they turned down a street, he blinked. This street was shaded by the sun by lengths of colorful fabric, but thanks to the bright green and yellow fabric, it was still plenty bright. "Weavers or seamstresses?" he asked.
"Both," she told him, "though if Dale were t' get any larger, I think this will become the weavers territory. The shops are large enough for their looms an' those who use the fabric they make don't like arguin' with them, lest they get the less quality stuff."
He nodded. "That's understandable."
"It's actually a bit funny ya needed some string; I was on my way here t' pick up my new cloak an' trousers," she told him. She didn't care that she was earning odd looks from some of the passersby; it was because she held the spear. If she had been a man, they wouldn't have cared. "Rather sure Eidel will have somethin' that'll work for you."
Pushing open the door to a building, they were greeted by the scent of lavender incense. The room they stepped into was brightly lit by a window in the ceiling that illuminated all sorts of looms and spinning wheels. Bofur recalled seeing these same sort of machines in his youth when his mother had taken him to her job once or twice. He had proven to be too mischievous for her to handle around the looms, so he hadn't been back since he had gotten his hair caught in a spinning wheel.
"Ah, Baylee…what can I do for ya today, lass?" The woman seemingly came from nowhere, her silver hair flowing behind her; it was nearly down to her hips. Bofur saw that she was like a young willow tree –tall and thin. Her blue eyes focused on the dwarf and her smile took on a flirtatious look. "Or is Master Dwarf in need of assistance?" she asked.
A shiver ran down Bofur's neck. The woman's voice was as smooth as silk. "I, ah…I was wonderin' if you had any kite string?"
She tapped her chin with a long finger; she reminded Baylee and Bofur of a spider. "I think I may have something tha' would work," she told him. "Let me check in the back." Still wearing the smile, she spun around, her skirts twirling around her ankles, and walked into the back room.
Bofur glanced up at Baylee, watching as she ran her fingers over a tapestry that hung from the wall; it was a thick, white cloth heavily embroidered with intricate, circling knots. Most of the knots were done in black, but the smaller, thinner lines were done in purple thread.
"I wish I could do work like this," she murmured, eyes taking in every detail.
His head cocked to the side. "Why can't you?"
"Never learned. Mum tried to teach me once, when I was but ten. Said I didn't really have the hands for it an' took me out into the inn an' had me helpin' papa 'n Will instead." She gave him a small smile. "Guess I've more o' a knack for rememberin' food orders."
"I'm sure you could do it if ya put your mind to it," he smiled. His attention was drawn away as Eidel returned, holding a few spools of twine in her hands.
"It's been awhile since I've flown a kite," she told him, setting the spools down, "but from what I remember, these three would be the best strings for it. This one-" She held up a spool that even Baylee could tell was made from cotton, "-is simple cotton. Strong, durable, but a bit on the heavy side. Good for just 'bout anything. This one," she set it down and lifted a second spool, "is silk thread. A bit on the pricey side, but it's light, strong, an' downright pretty."
He nodded in understanding as he listened to her. "The silk's a bit too thin an' slippery t' use, I'm afraid," he told her, "An' it may hurt the fingers o' the children when they try t' reel their kites back in."
Baylee continued to look at the tapestries that hung along the walls, though she smiled as she heard him. 'Most folk wouldn't think about fingers getting hurt by kite string,' she thought.
"Then this one may be the one," Eidel told him, plucking up the third spool. "It's a string made of cotton an' silk. It's light, strong, an' durable. Not as slippery as silk an' it doesn't swell as bad as cotton when it gets wet."
Again, Bofur nodded. As Eidel unwound a length of the twine, he took it in his fingers, testing it. It certainly was strong and he was positive that it wouldn't hurt children's fingers as much as the silk string. "How many spools o' this do ya have, miss?"
"Oh, a couple dozen, I suppose. I don't use this very often anymore; not since we first came t' live here."
"What did ya use it for?" he asked, unable to stop himself.
She wound the string back up. "Oh, loads of things…sewing canvas together for tents, sewin' cloth into armor, makin' flags –those sorts o' things. Why, Baylee here once had an over-gown that was laced with some of this same stuff."
Baylee flushed. "That…was a long while ago," she shyly chuckled.
"Ah, but it looked quite lovely on you. That creamy yellow looked so nice with your skin and hair…" She shook her head with a quiet sigh and a small smile. "But, never mind that now. How many spools would ya like, Master Dwarf?"
He thought about the number of kites back at the shop. If he had forgotten to pack the spools they already had, he would need as many as he could get his hands on…then again, if he had only misplaced them, he would have too much. 'Better too much than too little,' he thought. "A dozen an' a half should be good," he told Eidel, wearing a small smile.
She nodded. "Give me just a moment to gather them up. It'll be twenty silver for the lot, by the way." As she once more disappeared into the back room, Bofur started to fish through his coin purse.
"Hm…" he murmured after a moment.
"What's wrong?" Baylee asked, glancing over her shoulder. She had left the white tapestry and was now across the room, looking at one that depicted a scene of a king being crowned with stars. She recalled a story about a king in the realm of Gondor being crowned in such fashion in the days of old…
Bofur's voice brought her out of her thoughts. "I only have eighteen silver," he frowned. "Think she'll have change for a—" He was cut off as Baylee walked over, plopping two silver coins into his palm. Looking up at her with reddening cheeks, he started to protest. "Baylee, you don't have-"
"It's nothin'," she smiled. Before he could further argue, Eidel returned with a sack of the spools.
Exchanging the coins for the spools, Bofur thanked Eidel before he and Baylee left the shop. His cheeks were still red as he glanced up at the human, who was starting to walks further down the street. "Baylee?" He kept pace with her; an easy feat since she was so small.
"Hm?" she asked, glancing down at him.
"You…ah, really didn't have t' do that back there," he stated, his cheeks still red. "I'm sure she would'a had change."
She shrugged. "Let's just call it my good deed for the day," she chuckled. Making sure there were no carts rolling by, she started to cross the street, heading for a rather high-end looking seamstress's shop. "Would ya mind holdin' my spear while I go in here? Weapons aren't allowed."
He nodded, taking the spear and leaning against the wall of the shop. As she disappeared inside the building, he let out a quiet sigh. 'She seems rather distracted today,' he thought. 'Seems happy enough, but her eyes don't quite look happy.' His brow rose and he shook his head. 'Maybe she's just having an off day,' he told himself.
Turning his attention, to the street, he surveyed the people that walked by only to find the crowds to be mostly made up of women and their children. Some younger women –they were about Baylee's age- were sitting around a large, square planter filled with lavender. From the looks of it, they were idly gossiping; about what, he couldn't guess. Probably young men.
"Oi, Master Dwarf!"
Startled, Bofur glanced up as a pair of soldiers came towards him. By their rounded helmets and the veils that hung off their backs, he could tell that they were city watch. They carried spears identical to the one he was holding.
"Why have you a spear an' why are ya loiterin' outside this shop?" the taller of the two demanded. He was a sour-faced young man with a large bump on his nose; it had been broken in the past. His companion rolled his eyes.
"I'm waitin' for Miss Baylee Braddock t' come out o' the shop, lad," Bofur replied, his tone as friendly as ever. "This spear is hers; I'm holdin' it for her."
The shorter and kinder looking lad smiled. "Baylee's spear, eh?" he asked with a chuckle. "Didn't know she had exchanged bakin' bread for throwin' spears! Should we be expectin' her to join the city guard then?"
The sour man elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't be ridiculous; women can't join," he grumbled. He looked back at Bofur. "Don't go causin' any mischief," he warned before continuing on his way.
With an apologetic smile, his companion quickly told Bofur, "Sorry about his attitude. He got rejected by the lass he fancies," before running off after the other man.
"Spring is most definitely in the air then," he murmured with a chuckle. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply through his nose. In most cities, he would have smelled various unpleasant scents, but in Dale, his nose mostly picked up the scents of the blooming flowers and the bakeries one street over. He thought he could detect hints of jasmine, too, but couldn't quite be sure…
"Have a good day, Miss Nadya!"
His eyes snapped open as Baylee closed the door to the seamstress's shop. He could see that her wardrobe had changed: Her yellow over dress, brown shirt, and brown trousers had been replaced by white hose and a knee-length light green dress. Under her arm was a package wrapped up in brown paper and held shut by some butcher's twine; probably the other clothes she had bought. Her other clothes were neatly folded and tucked under the same arm.
"That looks t' be a wee bit more 'n a cloak an' some trousers, lass," he teased.
She innocently glanced away, smiling shyly. "Well…"
"Hey, look! It's Squirrel Face!"
Baylee suddenly tensed and Bofur frowned. He looked past her, seeing the group of gossiping girls. One of them, a tall young woman with honey-colored hair, was grinning as she stared at Baylee's back. She rose from her spot and started for the two of them, followed by two others girls, both having dark brown hair.
Hearing them coming, Baylee started to stiffly usher Bofur forwards, wanting to get away. "Let's go," she mumbled, taking the spear back.
"Where are you going, Squirrel Face?" the blonde called in a singsong voice. "That's a pretty dress you've got; is it t' help ya blend into your tree?"
Bofur's brows furrowed as he frowned. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as the blonde skipped up to them, stopping the two of them in their tracks. He looked up at the woman, crossing his arms. To most people, she would have been pretty, but from his point of view, Bofur thought she looked rather like a snake with her small, thin nose.
"Look, lasses! She's finally found herself a lad," she giggled in mock sweetness. The sound hurt Bofur's ears and he shifted slightly, shielding Baylee from the woman. "An' he's even her height! Aren't they a cute couple?"
"Aren't ya a little old t' be teasin' me like this?" Baylee demanded. Bofur could hear a slight wobble to her voice; she was fighting back tears.
One of the brunettes giggled as she ignored her words, reaching out to pinch Baylee's cheek. "They'll have the tiniest, chubby-cheeked babies, that's for-Hey!"
Bofur wasn't one for using violence against females, but he was fed up with three. He shoved the woman away before she could lay her fingers on Baylee and glared up at her. "Leave us alone," he ordered, no trace of amusement on his features. They had stirred up his rarely-felt anger.
The blonde laughed. "Aw, he's protective of her!" She leaned down, smirking at him. "What're you goin' t' do? Use tha' big ol' spear against us? I wouldn't want ya t' strain something, wee master."
A mock smile came to his features. "I won't use the spear, but if the three o' ya don't apologize t' Miss Baylee, I will throw you three gutter wenches into the nearest pile o' horse shit where ya belong." He continued to wear the mock smile as he watched the three women back up in shock; no one had ever threatened them in such a fashion. "Well? Am I goin' t' have t' carry you lot t' the stables then?" he inquired when they said nothing. "I've lifted loads heavier than you three before; it'd be easy enough."
Baylee stared at him, barely hearing their quick apologies before they ran off. Swallowing hard, she let him take her hand and lead her back into the main square, where he sat her down at the fountain. It was only when he dabbed her cheeks with his handkerchief that she realized she had unconsciously let her tears spill and she curiously raised a hand, feeling her damp cheeks.
He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the ground in embarrassment. "I'm sorry ya had t' hear me talk like that," he told her, "but I had t' get them to shut their gobs somehow…They were makin' you cry an' that isn't the least bit polite. I don't think I would have really tossed 'em in the horse poo, though. Maybe if they had been meaner I would'a…"
She quietly laughed. "I've heard far worse leave my own mouth," she reassured him, "an' I did carry out my threats; broke one o' their fingers when I was younger. But still, thank ya." She gave him a warm smile and tucked some hair behind her ear. Her eyes were still a bit pink, but were now tear-free as she glanced at her lap, her hand fiddling with a bit of her skirt's fabric. "They're an annoyin' lot."
"Oh, aye. Cats, rats, an' snakes always are," he agreed. She looked at him quizzically and he smirked. "Haven't ya noticed? That's what they look like. Nothin' nearly as cute as wee squirrels…not tha' you look like a squirrel! Because ya don't!" He was starting to fumble over his words again. "You look like a pretty young maid. Not a squirrel. Don't know why they think ya look like one…" He glanced away shyly, cheeks burning as he rubbed the back of his neck. "You're an idiot, Bofur," he muttered under his breath.
"It's because o' my teeth."
His brows furrowed and he allowed himself to glance at her. "Your teeth? What 'bout them?" He was utterly baffled.
She rubbed her arm self-consciously. "I never really grew into my front teeth…so they're big an' make me look like a squirrel."
"I haven't ever noticed 'em," he stated matter-of-factly. "An' neither have the lads. Whoever says ya look like squirrel is just an arse."
A small smile came to her lips and she shyly looked at the ground. "Thank you."
He watched her, a tender look coming to his features. Bifur's words about Nori thinking he fancied her and how he had apparently flirted with her the night of the party echoed back into his memory and he shifted slightly. He did not fancy Miss Baylee. She may have been kind, smart, good conversation, a good cook, and rather pretty (at least to him; he didn't know that she was very plain by most everyone else's standard) but that didn't automatically mean he fancied her.
…Did it?
Rán carefully inspected the steel blade that the smith had handed him. It was lighter than most swords its size, yet it was perfectly balanced. The gently curved blade ended at a sharp point and had just enough give in the metal to ensure that it would not break when it came in contact with another blade or some light armor. Stepping away from his companions and making absolutely sure that no one else was around him, he tested the blade by twirling it in his hand a few times. He did a few simple maneuvers with the blade, a grin coming to his lips.
Finally, he sheathed the weapon and met the gaze of the dwarf who had crafted it –and the other weapons his companions held- and gave him a sweeping bow. "Thank you, Master Skári," he said to the dwarf. "These weapons far exceed our expectations and will serve us well in protecting our people."
The dwarf scratched his chin through his thick beard, a pleased smile hiding beneath his mustache. "I am glad that they meet your standards, Ezbad Rán," he replied, also bowing. "It is not often that I get t' make such a unique set o' swords an' bows. It was a welcomed –and fun- challenge for me."
A friendly grin came to Rán's lips and he made a motion to two of his men. "I am sure you will find yourself meeting more of the same challenges in the future, Master Skári, for I will be sure to spread word of your craftsmanship amongst my people."
Girish and Aizik stepped forward, a small, but heavy, chest held between them. They knelt down, setting the chest on the ground and opening it. Polished gold coins and glittering red rubies rested within the metal-and-wood case, causing the dwarf to lean forward on the balls of his feet, his smile turning into a somewhat greedy grin.
"As we agreed," Ashailyn spoke now, "your payment for your work. We hope it pleases you."
"I assure you that no greater pleasure can come of this than what I felt crafting those weapons," Skári told them, though they all know it was a politely elegant lie. Not even the most selfless of dwarves could resist the allure of shiny gold and sparkling gemstones. "Blessings of the ancestors upon you!" he told them as he gave them another bow.
"May your beard never grow thin, Master Skári." They, too, bowed and turned, leaving the workshop. Rán led them out into the carved streets of Erebor; he was still filled with amazement about the city. It was carved entirely out of the mountain's rock and yet, such was the artistry and craftsmanship that buildings appeared to be made of stacked bricks and the streets seemed to be laid with cobblestone.
It was a vastly different sight from what they were used to. Despite the loftiness of the halls and entrance, there was no view of the sky or sun. The others didn't really like this, but it brought an odd sense of comfort to Rán. To live in a place that never had to endure the harsh rains and winds of winter or the fierce sun of summer was a wish that he hoped to someday make real. For now, though, he had his sister to think of –and his rangers.
"Now that we have our weapons," Nakara spoke when they left the dwarven city, "we can leave in the morning. The sooner we return home, the more pleased our Chief will be."
Girish rolled his eyes. "Do you ever not think about Chief and how happy he is with you?" he nagged. "You should be admiring that new sword of yours instead of pondering what in Mandos' name the Chief is going to think about us returning two days earlier than planned!" Aizik, Ashailyn, and Fifika snorted while Seth and Hunil laughed outright. The rest did their best to hide their amusement from Nakara, who looked thoroughly offended.
"Pardon me for actually caring about how our Chief views our group," he huffed. "After Donar was slain two summers ago, our Chief can't help but wonder whether we really deserve the position-"
"Of primary defense. Yes, Nakara, you've mentioned that many times before," Rán told him, rolling his eyes. "In our line of work, death is never far from us. That is why, as rangers, we pray to Estë for health and to Mandos for a quickly dealt death. It is something we cannot avoid."
Nakara narrowed his eyes as he stared down at the shorter, slightly older male. "I see you no longer cringe when his name is mentioned," he replied coolly.
Rán turned sharply, his eyes narrowed in a fierce glare. "What reason do I have to cringe at the name of a dead man?"
Nakara opened his mouth to speak, but Ashailyn shoved her way in front of him. "There will be no arguments –at least, not when we're itching to try our weapons. When we've disarmed, maybe you two can have fisticuffs somewhere, but I will not suffer it in my presence."
Glancing at the woman, Nakara stepped back, his cheeks reddening. "I apologize, Mistress Ashailyn," he murmured, his tone bearing some shame.
Rán gave his sister a thankful look. Taking her hand, he turned and continued to lead the group down the stone-covered road that led back to Dale. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Nakara's eyes focused on his sister and he recognized the longing look of unspoken love in them.
'Why did you have to fall for my sister?' he bitterly thought. 'Of all the women in Middle Earth, you had to fall for my sister…' He shook his head, trying to push the thought from his mind, but was finding it difficult.
To his luck, Kreine started to sing. Of the members of their group, she had the fairest singing voice and she was never afraid to start singing for no reason. The song she had chosen was one that they sang back in their homeland to chase away the bitter winter winds and to welcome the coming warmth of spring. It was one of Rán's favorites, for he had a passionate hatred of winter, having lost his parents to it many years ago.
Be gone ye fowl wolves of winter
Let thy teeth bite no more at my skin
Let thy howl whistle no more in mine ear
Thou hast overstayed thy welcome
In darkness thou hast kept me,
Thy anger hath kept me trapped within in my home
No light I hath seen, no warmth I hath felt
Too long in thy bitter hold I hath dwelt!
Dost thou heareth the trumpets?
Doth thou seeth the heralds
Who proclaims our Lady Spring is back?
Who bring her forth from her long slumber?
Lo! Bow down before her sweet form,
Lady Spring approaches and Old Winter flees
Let us rejoice at our Lady, our Queen
Who will again fill our world with green!
Let the-
She suddenly let out a small yelp as she tripped over an uneven part of the road (it was still being worked on by the dwarves, so it was not entirely smooth just yet). Aizik caught her, offering her an apologetic smile. "I guess Lady Spring wants a nap," he gently teased, setting her upright once more.
"Very funny," she murmured, wiggling her foot slightly in an attempt to chase away the bit of pain she felt in her toes. "Thank you, though." She may have had a good voice, but sometimes, she was a bit accident prone.
He gave her a small nod before putting his hands behind his head. "So…Rán. Will we be leaving early, or are we staying the extra two days?"
Rán glanced over his shoulder. "We'll put it to a vote," he stated. "All in favor of leaving early?" He was more than a little surprised to find that only he, Ashailyn, and Girish did not raise their hands. "There is your answer. When we return to Dale, Aizik, Nakara, and Seth will be in charge of buying food for the journey while Girish and Ashailyn restock our medicinal stores. Kreine and Fifika, you two will tend to laundry. Hunil and I shall see to the horses. Understood?"
"I think I should help with the horses rather than buying food," Nakara stated.
"Nonsense. You're the best haggler in the group," he replied. "With the amount of food we'll need for the return journey, it is necessary-"
Nakara's thick brow rose. "Seth, too, is able to haggle quite well. I would merely like to see how my horse is doing since we discovered the hoof abscess a few days prior," he argued, his arms crossing over his chest.
"Fine. Hunil, you will get food with the others." Normally, he would have switched places with Nakara just so he wouldn't have to deal with him for a while, but after seeing the look he had given Ashailyn…His brotherly instincts had kicked in and were telling him to have a firm chat with the young man. "Any objections to that?"
Nakara remained silent, as did the rest.
"Good. We will return to the Tankard in time for midday. We'll discuss some plans and whether to leave before dawn or later in the day." There was a chorus of agreement and he moved to let his hand idly rest atop the hilt of his new sword.
Ashailyn leaned over. "With any luck, you'll see your Miss Baylee," she quietly teased.
His cheeks reddened. "Shush," he mumbled, glancing away.
"I really wish yeh'd take somethin' other than a slingshot with yeh, Ori. I mean, I know yeh'll be travelin' with a bunch o' soldiers, but what if yeh get separated? What use will a slingshot have for yeh?"
"It's proven to be a good distraction tool from time to time. Remember how I helped Miss Baylee when the two o' you were sparrin' the other day?" A cheeky grin came to his lips as he glanced up at Dwalin, who had climbed up in the ancient plum tree, his feet dangling on either side of a branch.
He shifted and scrunched his nose up. "It did take me by surprise, tha's for sure," he agreed. He cocked his brow, looking down at the sign that Ori was painting. The lad had a brush dipped in yellow paint and his pink held out to steady his hand as he slowly trailed it down a long, straight section of the carving. "It's lookin' good," he commented. "Yellow on green 'n yellow really pops."
"Good," he chuckled, pulling the brush away and dipping it in a bit more paint. "Bofur and Bifur wanted this sign t' be eye-catching, so I'm doin' my best."
Silence fell between them as he continued to trace carved wood in yellow paint. Dwalin closed his eyes, enjoying the peacefulness. Birds were chirping in the yard around them and the hustle-and-bustle of the market was but a murmur to their ears back here. Inside the building, they could just barely hear the sound of Bifur moving crates around as he searched for toys to fill the shelves with.
"I could loan yeh my hammer."
Ori rolled his eyes and shook his head, quietly laughing. "I'll be fine, Dwalin."
Opening an eye, he glanced down at him. "Yeh sure? I mean, yer pretty deadly with tha' thing. Makes me proud t' see yeh bashin' skulls with it."
"I'm sure, Dwalin."
"But what if-"
Setting his brush down, Ori looked up at him reassuringly. "I'm a scribe, not a warrior. As you said, there will be plenty o' armed folk with us –Baylee included."
He didn't seem convinced. "What if yeh get separated, hm? When then? Yeh goin' t' bash a skull in with tha' sketchbook o' yers?"
Laughing, Ori went back to painting. "Yes, Dwalin –I'll do exactly that or I'll kick 'em in the shins and run away."
Dwalin snorted. "The latter more 'n likely."
"Of course. Why would I want t' damage my artwork?" He heard the creak of wood as Dwalin slid out of the tree, but did not look up; he was too focused on getting this sign finished so that it could dry before Will hung it. "Do you know what time it is?" he asked.
Stretching, Dwalin looked at the sky. "Eh…I'd say it's probably few hours after noon," he grunted, holding onto his right shoulder while he slowly rotated his arm. A relieved sigh left his mouth as he felt the joint pop and a bit of a tingle surged down his arm as the flow of blood found itself no longer hindered. "Have yeh had lunch yet?"
"Yes. Miss Baylee brought some by earlier."
He nodded his understanding and started to walk around the yard. He scrunched his nose up slightly as he used his boot to stir a bit of the soil. Just from looking at it, he could see that it was good, rich soil, yet the brown of the grass and plants surrounding him didn't set well with him. As a warrior, Dwalin saw far more of the outside world than what most dwarves would have seen in their lifetimes and, though he would never admit it, he rather liked the sight of things that were green and growing –just don't try to feed him a meal consisting purely of the stuff.
Shaking his head, he went back over to Ori. Leaning over the lad's shoulder, he watched as he finished painting one, last letter on the sign. Standing, Ori plucked the sign up and carried it over to the wall where he leaned it against the stone so it could dry. When he turned back around, he found Dwalin curiously picking up the paintbrush that had been sitting in the bowl of green paint.
"You can't use that stuff for tattoos," he chuckled, walking over.
"Wasn't thinkin' 'bout it," Dwalin murmured. His brow rose and a mischievous grin suddenly came to his lips.
Ori frowned, about to take a step back when Dwalin suddenly dragged the brush down the bridge of his nose. His eyes widened and his jaw fell slack; why in the world would he do that?! He tried to get his vocal chords to work again, but they failed as Dwalin picked up the brush from the yellow paint and started to draw thin, squiggling lines along his cheekbones.
Finally, when he was reaching for the white paint, Ori managed to gain control of his body again. "What do you think you're doin'?" he demanded, trying his best to sound like Dori. "That's good paint you're wastin' on my skin! Not to mention, I bathed just this mornin'!"
Dwalin cheekily grinned, making three diamond-shaped dots on his forehead. "I'm makin' yeh a walkin' piece o' art," he teased.
Huffing, Ori snatched up the green paintbrush and started to decorate Dwalin's face as well. His designs were far steadier than Dwalin's and they ranged from the tiniest of green dots to sharp, white knots. Of course, he had less space to work with –Dwalin's beard was much thicker and took up far more space than Ori's beard ever would.
Bifur opened the back door only to find this sight. Ori and Dwalin looked at him, eyes slightly wide and faces covered in drying paint. For a moment, there was total silence between the three of them.
"Agal uŋùkhudhab?" Bifur asked.
"Er, yes," Ori replied. "It's there, by the wall. It needs a bit longer t' dry, though."
Nodding, Bifur moved to close the door, but paused. "Khulhu dugûzu?" he inquired, his tone a bit amused, a bit exasperated.
Dwalin drew a white line down the center of the green one he had put on Ori's nose. "Wastin' paint," he told him with a simple shrug. He added two dots on the sides of his nostrils.
"Nêzu khidez tada…" Shaking his head, he turned back inside and closed the door behind him. Grabbing the toys he had pulled out, he moved to head into the main part of the shop, where Will was hanging up the kites. Bofur had yet to return from the market, which he didn't find very odd; having heard from Will that he and Baylee had met up with his cousin, he supposed that Bofur was following Baylee all over the market.
And of course, Bifur had found the kite string five minutes after Bofur had left.
It was about Bofur and Baylee that Bifur had wanted to speak with Will about, but alas! Will did not know Khuzdul. What he did know –and Bifur had no idea why the lad knew it- was Iglishmêk. He had discovered this fairly recently when he caught Will signing something to his father the other day at the inn. Had he learned it from Warren? He didn't think so; Warren's signing wasn't nearly as fast or concise as Will's. So…where had he learned it?
Regardless, he gave Will's trousers a small tug. When the human looked down at him, he moved his hands. 'Sign drying. Hang in hour.'
He nodded in understanding. "Alright. That gives me some time t' put the bracket up to hold it," he replied, looking back at the hooks he was putting the kite string through. "Then, everythin' should be ready for you an' Bofur to move in."
Bifur grinned and nodded heartily, going to put his toys on some of the shelves. These ones weren't exactly cute like his birds. Instead, they were somewhat macabre. He and Bofur had agreed that these would be set up on a lower shelf that was off to the side of the shop. Why, he didn't know (he seemed to not know a lot of things today) but he allowed it. He was more proud of the birds, anyway.
"Has Ori finished the sign for tomorrow?" Will asked, glancing at the dwarf.
'Not ask. Not want stay to ask.'
"…Why not?" he dared to inquire.
'Ori, Dwalin painting faces. They flirt.'
His head cocked to the side as he stared at Bifur. "…They're…flirting?" he slowly repeated. Bifur nodded. "Dwalin and Ori. They're really flirting?" Again, Bifur nodded.
'Why surprised?' he signed, his own head tilted.
He shrugged, starting to climb down the step stool. "Just…never really heard of two males…flirting."
Bifur smacked his forehead. Of course he would forget such a thing: flirtation amongst the same genders wasn't common with humans. It wasn't unheard of, but those who preferred their own gender had the tendency to keep quiet about it. With dwarves, on the other hand –well, there were so many males and so few females that no one really cared.
'About flirting…' he casually signed when Will had tucked the stool away. 'Think Bofur flirt Baylee.'
Will's eyes widened and, much to Bifur's surprise, he grinned. "So I'm not the only one noticin' it?" he gasped. "I thought I was the only one; not even dad has noticed it an' he's been tryin' to find Baylee a lad for ages!"
'Try talk Bofur of Baylee.' He felt an odd sense of relief rushing through him. 'Said no interest. Lied.'
He nodded. "I'm not sure 'bout Baylee. I've never known when she's fancied someone; she's never been one to really talk about that sort o' thing, but I know that she feels something for him. I just don't know if it's in a romantic way."
'Comfortable with him. Know that.'
Will sat down on the stood, scratching the side of his neck. "That she is, but she's like that with all o' you. I daresay she gets along better with you lads than she does our human customers." He chuckled, lightly shaking his head. "But, aye, like I said, I'm not able to tell if she actually fancies him."
'Ask?' he signed with a shrug.
He cocked his brow. "Ask her if she's got feelings for Bofur?" he repeated with a small laugh. "Bifur, do you realize how dangerous that is? She may be my twin, but girls never appreciate a male asking them if they fancy someone."
Bifur blinked, about to inquire as to why this was, but the door opened as Bofur returned. He held in his hand a basket filled with an assortment of items ranging from a thin length of jewelry chain, some new woodcarving tools for work on tiny objects, and even some gemstones. In the other hand, he held a large sack. Both of these caused his cousin to raise a curious brow.
"Khulhu tada?" he inquired.
"Oh, kite string!" he chirped, setting the sack on the counter. He looked up at the ceiling, brow rising. "Though I see you've managed t' find our stock. Well, that just means we've got extra now."
"Imiduhk nâtaradukesh."
"Oh…Um…" His cheeks turned a bit pink as he looked inside his basket. "Just some things…you know, toy-making things," he lied. He didn't want to say the truth with Will being there.
Bifur's brow rose; he knew well enough that his cousin was lying. Gently grabbing Bofur's arm, he firmly signed, 'Tell truth,' to him as Will pretended to be adjusting the laces on his boots.
With a small sigh, Bofur set his things down, signing back. 'Make present for Baylee birthday.'
'Present?'
He nodded. 'Bracelet.'
Bifur nodded approvingly as he scratched his chin through his beard. 'Why?'
'Birthday.'
'And?'
He shook his head. 'No why. Birthday.' Grabbing the basket once more, he headed upstairs in a small bit of a huff.
Bifur grinned broadly and turned to Will, who was quietly snickering.
Rán sighed as he and Nakara entered the inn yard of the Full Tankard. Glancing around, he saw no one in the vicinity, which brought some ease to him. He followed Nakara into the stables, from which Peter was missing.
'More than likely, he is inside eating lunch,' he thought, turning left towards their horses.
Nakara had said nothing to him since they entered the city. The two of them had always disliked like one another and not even they could really state why. There was just something about one the other couldn't stand. Regardless, Nakara was loyal to his commander and followed orders with almost never complaining.
This was what irritated Rán. Nakara was a good man; he had proved it time and time again. He was loyal, kind, intelligent, and had fighting skills that were matched only by their Chief. The only reason he wasn't leader of the group was because he wasn't good with decision making. Rán had no reason to keep him from pursuing a romantic relationship with Ashailyn for any reason other than his dislike of the man.
It was so frustrating!
But if there was one thing Rán knew, it was that love was more powerful than the will of a family. That's why he let out a sigh and leaned against the frame of one of the stalls. "I need to speak with you."
Nakara glanced up as he stroked his horse's cheek. "About what?" he replied, moving towards the back of the creature. He gently coaxed the beast to lift its hind leg so that he could remove the cloth bag tied around its hoof and check its wound.
"Ashailyn." He watched as the other man paused for the slightest of moments.
"What of her?"
"I know you've feelings for her."
Again, he paused. Closing his eyes, he quietly sighed and shook his head, looking the hoof over. "And I suppose you are going to tell me that I am forbidden from pursuing such interests in her?"
Turning away, Rán sighed and started to check on his own horse. "No. In fact, I was going to tell you that you have my blessing to do that very thing. If you wish for me to disagree, however, I would be more than happy to, should you provide me with a reason to."
Standing upright, Nakara stared at Rán's back in shock. "You…are giving me your blessing?" he repeated, finding himself more than a little shocked. "Why would you do such a thing when we're at each other's throats most of the time?"
He glanced up as he used his fingers to comb through his horse's mane, a brow raised. "There are a couple of reasons," he answered, looking back down, "the first and foremost being that you are a good man and would be a good match for Ashailyn. You have her wellbeing and interests in mind; after all, you were the one who convinced Chief to let her come with us." He fell silent.
Nakara watched him for a moment before once more inspecting the hoof. As he roughly tapped on it with his knuckle, his horse made no signs of discomfort, letting him know that the wound had healed or mostly healed. With a small smile, he lifted the bag and allowed his horse to stand on all four legs again. He sighed and nuzzled the creature before leaving the stall.
"What are the other reasons?" he quietly asked, moving to check on Girish's horse. By now, Rán was in the stall with Ashailyn's horse.
"Just because we do not get along does not mean I would put you through the pain Donar and I had to endure."
"But…His family had reasons for not letting you two marry I thought?"
He let out a quiet, sarcastic laugh. "They merely claimed it was because I had a beard that they would not let us marry. My family had never slighted theirs."
"Until Bipin attacked the two of you and you slew him in self-defense…"
Rán nodded. "He had no honor left in him, not after he killed his own brother for merely loving a half-dwarf." Sighing, he went into the stall of Fifika's horse. "So, no. I would not wish that pain on anyone aside from my most bitter enemies."
"Understandable," Nakara replied solemnly.
"Her favorite color is blue, by the way."
He glanced up. "What?"
"Blue. Ashailyn's favorite color is blue. Keep that in mind if ever you purchase a gift for her."
Nakara managed a small smile. "Thank you."
"C'mon, lass –move yer feet faster!"
Baylee grunted as she stumbled backwards, having just been knocked in the gut by Dwalin's elbow. It hadn't knocked the wind out of her, but he hadn't been gentle either. She tumbled out of the way as he brought his sword around, aiming for her midsection. With another grunt, she whipped the spear around, smacking the dwarf's back with the butt of the weapon.
As he stumbled forward, she used the momentum of the blow to bring the spear around and knock him upside the head with the tip of the spear (which, like the sword, was wrapped in fabric to prevent bloodshed). Dwalin growled and tried to stab at her stomach, but she hopped backwards. Despite the attack, she saw a grin on his lips.
The grin, though, proved to be a bit of a distraction to her. She didn't see his leg sweeping around until it was too late and she was flat on her back, groaning. Dwalin brought his sword down towards her neck, but she held up the spear, using its shaft to block the blade. In a combination of sheer luck and sheer accident, she slammed the butt of the spear upwards.
Dwalin froze, a pain filling his entire body.
It stemmed from his family jewels.
Dropping sword and clenching crotch, he fell over, a high-pitched squeak leaving his mouth. His head spun and his ears rang with pain; he could only just make out Baylee's quick-spoken apologies and the laughter of his comrades as they watched on. He did his best to keep his eyes from watering, but with the force she had used, it was inevitable.
Nori walked over, grinning as he looked at the incapacitated Dwalin. "Well, lass…Looks like it's four wins for you," he mused, using his boot to roll Dwalin onto his back.
Baylee lightly smacked his foot. "Don't do that!" she scolded. "Mister Dwalin, I am so sorry! I swear, I hadn't known the spear was there!" She looked quite worried as she knelt beside the dwarf, unsure of what to do. They had no ice; winter was long gone. Her uncle was out of his pain-relieving mixtures.
"Yer not the first, lass," he managed to grunt out, his voice a bit squeaky. After a few minutes, he relinquished his hold and shakily sat up. "I jus' normally have armor on when I get hit there…" Seeing Nori's cheeky grin and hearing his chuckles, he reached over and yanked his feet out from under him, causing the star-haired dwarf to topple on his back.
"Wha' was that for?" Nori wheezed. He kicked his foot into Dwalin's back.
"For bein' an arse!"
"It's funny, seein' a big oaf like you cryin' like a wee babe!"
"Oh, shush!" Baylee half-snapped. "Are you sure you're fine, Mister Dwalin? I can run and find some pain-"
He held up his hand, a pained, though reassuring, look on his face. "'M fine, lass. That's actually somethin' yeh want t' keep in mind if ever yer fightin' male. Go for the family jewels an' yeh might get 'em sobbin' on their knees." He stood, though it was bowlegged, and helped pull her to her feet. "An' Nori's right. Yeh've got four wins under yer belt today. Means yeh win the majority." Managing a half-grin that looked more like a grimace, he winced as he went to retrieve his fallen sword.
"Should I have a cool bath drawn up for you?" Baylee asked, still fretting. "It may help…an' it'd get the rest o' the paint off o' your face."
Dwalin cocked his brow, knowing full well that his face was still smudged with bits of green and white from his and Ori's earlier painting escapade. While he had only scrubbed at his face, Ori was currently in the bathing room, using a good bunch of soap and hot water to cleanse his skin of the paint.
"Eh," he at last spoke, "sure, why not? Can't hurt."
As he waddled off towards the kitchen, Baylee crouched down, grabbing her spear and offering a hand to Nori. When she pulled him to his feet, she glanced over her shoulder, seeing some of the rangers entering the inn yard. Most of them walked towards the stable, but Rán broke away from them, speaking to them in their native tongue. Every time she heard it, Baylee liked the sound of it more and more; it rolled off their tongues, sounding almost like music.
Shaking her head, she and Nori started for the kitchen door. After all, she had to let someone know to fill Dwalin's bath and it would be dinner soon; she needed to get cleaned up. She was stopped, however, as Rán called out to her.
"Miss Baylee? May I have a word?"
Stopping, she nodded and waited for him to catch up. She could see the new sword that hung from his hip and she smiled. "I see ya got your new weapons today."
He nodded, also smiling, though it seemed to Baylee that it bore a hint of sorrow. "Indeed we did," he told her, "and because of that, we will be leaving ere the sun rises tomorrow."
"Why so early?" she asked, leaning on the spear slightly. Her leg hurt from when Dwalin had smacked it a little too hard with the flat of his blade; it had been his only win that day. The thought that she had beaten him left her rather perplexed. "If you don't mind me askin', that is."
"Not at all. My rangers are homesick and wish to return to our homeland as soon as possible. While a few of us may wish to stay here, the majority have voted in favor of returning." He glanced over his shoulder as Ashailyn, Kreine, and Hunil left the stables, heading for the front of the inn. Ashailyn gave him a small wink and smirked while his insides twisted themselves into a knot. "As, ah, such…it is customary amongst our people to give parting gifts to those who have shown exceptional hospitality."
She was thankful that her cheeks were still flushed from sparring. "That's somethin' I never heard of," she admitted with a small laugh. "Normally it's the hosts givin' the guests gifts t' make 'em feel welcomed."
He started to search for something in a pouch on his belt. "Shelter, food, drink, and other such services are the gifts the guests receive," he explained, "while the hosts are left acting as if they were servants."
"That's an interestin' way o' lookin' at it," she murmured thoughtfully. "So you even give gifts to—Oh no, that's far too nice, Rán…" Her eyes had widened when Rán had pulled forth a necklace from the pouch.
He shook his head. "It is a simple choker," he told her. "Miss Wenna will be receiving a similar piece of jewelry." Something in her told her that Wenna would receive something far less nice, but she ignored that part of her mind.
"Th-Thank you," she stammered, still in awe. To him it may have been simple, but to her it was queenly. Her family was not poor by any means, but well-crafted jewelry was something bought only for special occasions. She ran her fingers along the main part of the necklace, which consisted of five small rows of silver chain interwoven like chainmail. Every other link had a citrine dangling from it at varying heights. "It's beautiful," she mumbled.
Rán's cheeks were a bit flushed. "I thought the citrine fitting, since I have only seen you not wearing yellow twice," he chuckled. "May I?" He motioned at the necklace, intending to help her put it on. Nodding, Baylee handed the necklace to him and pulled her hair off to the side.
It was the sight of Rán clasping the choker around Bayle's neck that Bofur passed on his way to the inn. He frowned and backed up a few spaces, his brow slowly rising as he watched Baylee release her hair and run her fingers along her neck. Squinting, he was able to make out the sight of the necklace and his brow rose. Something inside of him started to grow envious and he felt his grip tighten around the handle of his basket.
'What in Mahal's name do you think you're doing?' he thought, eyes narrowing. 'You have no business getting her jewelry…'
"Bofur? Everything alright?"
He blinked, coming out of his trance only to find Will standing beside him. The tall lad looked down at him, concern on his features. He forced himself to smile, but it looked genuine on his lips. "I'm fine. Just tired, lad," he managed to lie. "Excitement 'bout the shop openin' has been keepin' me awake at night." That was only a partial lie; he had been kept up by the anticipation, but it hadn't been leaving him drained.
"Well, we'll get some food in you an' then you should be feelin' better," Will chuckled. He glanced up, seeing Baylee with her spear. "Excuse me; I need t' see how well Baylee did with her sparring today." As he walked off, Rán walked out of the yard, his cheeks still a bit pink.
Bofur followed after him, glaring at his back. "Why did you get her the necklace?" he suddenly heard himself ask.
Rán cocked a brow and turned. "It's customary for my people to give parting gifts to generous hosts," he informed. Despite his words, there was a slight smirk on his lips and a hint of cockiness to his voice. "If you'll excuse me, I need to find Miss Wenna and Miss Demelza so I can give their gifts to them as well."
While part of him said that Rán's words were true, another part of Bofur wanted to lurch forward and slam his fist into his face. The tone the ranger had used with him did not sit well with the dwarf and, as he sat down at the usual table, Nori and Bifur already drinking from foaming mugs, he lightly shook his head. Something like this shouldn't have upset him this much. After all, it's not like Rán wished to pursue Baylee romantically…
…Why did that even matter?
There was a small squeal of excitement across the room and he dared to glance over, watching as Rán handed a necklace to each Wenna and Demelza. The younger of the two women bounce excitedly on the balls of her feet, earning a laugh from the ranger. He helped the two of them put the necklaces on –Demelza had gotten long, silver chain with an emerald for a pendant and Wenna a golden choker with three rubies. Simple jewelry, but still rather pricey for someone with a ranger's salary…
"Well, at least he was tellin' the truth then," he muttered under his breath.
Despite this, he still wanted to punch Rán.