A/N: Once again, I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter up. I've been a bit uninspired again lately, but I think the inspiration is starting to return. Only time will tell...So, a big thank you to all of my readers who keep coming back, even when I haven't updated in nearly a month.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Dawn of the next morning brought grey clouds and threatened a strong chance for rain later in the day. The sudden change in weather from warm to cold did no good for the group of injured travelers, especially those who had wounds in the bone. Lovisa felt stiff and much too achy to do much -Bifur had to help her sit up and absolutely refused to let her help with the food preparations; Ori could hardly move his arm without bringing about some small bolt of pain streaking up to his shoulder; and Warren had to carry Baylee to the wagon because her leg hurt so bad.

"I really hope the rain holds off 'til we at least get a little ways further from the river," Warren sighed, staring a rather flattened seed cake that Galiene had sent with him. Breaking it in half, he offered the larger piece to his son.

"Why's that?" Ori asked, glancing up from his porridge.

Bard set down his flask and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "If it were to storm, the river could possibly flood," he explained to the dwarf. "It would wash us away if we weren't far enough from its shores. A flooded river on ground such as this has no care 'bout where it's bed it; it goes where it wants."

Ori cringed, not enjoying the idea of that at all. "How far away from it are we going to get?"

"With luck, we'll be at least five miles from it –for the time being, at least. We will need to head west again once we reach Dale."

"We should cross now." An elven man came towards the group and their fire, bringing with him two steaming mugs. Kneeling beside Ori, he set the smaller mug on the ground beside him. "Drink this," he instructed, "but slowly. It will help with the ache in your arm."

Glancing down at the mug, Ori raised a brow, not entirely sure if he wanted to drink the elvish concoction. "Thank you," he murmured.

The elf held out his arm, offering the other mug to Warren. "And this will help you with that cough you've had," he told him.

Will frowned and looked at his father as he chewed on the seedcake. "You've had a cough?"

Warren waved his hand dismissively as he took a mug. "It's my normal summer cough," he told him. "Don't worry 'bout it, lad." He gave him a reassuring smile before taking a drink of the liquid; he cringed slightly and stuck out his tongue.

Ori, who had been taking a drink at the same moment, pursed his lips and clenched his eyes shut.

"I never said it tasted good," the elf laughed, seeing Warren and Ori's expressions. "I only said that it will help.

Warren scrunched his nose up and took a second drink before hastily putting the cup back on the ground. "I think that's worse than the stuff Richard was havin' me drink, Rhovathor," he told him. "But it is already helpin'. My throat's not as scratchy."

Rhovathor chuckled. "See? While it may taste quite bad, it does help." He turned back to Ori. "It'll take more than one drink for your medicine to take effect, master dwarf. I suggest saving the rest of your breakfast for when you finish the medicine; it'll help wash away the taste faster."

Nodding slowly, Ori did his best to chug the rest of the drink; it was a hard task thanks to it still being quite hot and how bitter it tasted. The liquid dribbling down the corners of his mouth, he winced and pulled the mug from his face, wiping his chin clean with his sleeve.

Will cocked a brow as he chewed a bit of bacon. "I'm suddenly findin' myself even more glad that I don't have any sort o' problems with my insides right now," he murmured.

The elf looked at him, smirking. "Oh, do not count yourself out in the clear just yet, William. Your uncle is preparing some salves for your injuries as I speak –and they are quite potent."

"Smell wise or medicinal strength wise?"

"Yes."

As Will groaned, Warren chuckled, lightly patting him on the back. "Don't worry, lad. You're almost healed as is. Ya won't take long t' finish."

"He should be looking over Baylee's leg, not worrying over me," Will sighed. "She can hardly walk an' it's been two weeks!"

Bard glanced up. "What sort of wounds did she receive?" he inquired.

"A warg chomped on her hip," Ori answered. "And she got stuck with some arrows. Before all that, though, the queen o' the raiders chopped off the third finger on each o' her hands." He forced himself to swallow the last of his medicine.

Rhovathor scratched his chin, thinking. "Such wounds do take time, but the Braddock family is comprised of fast healers…" He stood up and straightened his tunic out. "Regardless, I will see to her; no doubt her uncle already has, but a second opinion is always helpful with medicine."

As the elf left, Bard glanced over at Will and Warren; the former was attempting to finish his medicine without recoiling while his son was brushing the crumbs from his shirt. He knew full well that these two men were some of Dale's best warriors, and not just because of their sheer size. They were both intelligent when it came to battles, something that Bard was sure wasn't mere intuition. He had often wondered if it had anything to do with Warren's life before Lake Town and Dale.

When Ori had wandered off to go clean up and pack for the day, Bard spoke. "Warren, William…Why aren't either of you in the army? With your strength and intelligence, you could quickly rise through the ranks to be captains or generals."

"I was in an army once," Warren told him, "but it was a life I didn't want, so I left."

"You abandoned the army?"

"No. I asked for leave an' it was granted. As such, I came t' Lake Town, where I found my purpose in life –t' be a good husband an' father." He smiled as he glanced at his son. "A role Will here will soon be learning."

Bard nodded slowly in understanding. "And what of you, William?"

Will shrugged, patting his injured. "I'm not o' much use anymore. I'm almost lame in my arm an' I wear out too easily now. After Five Armies…" He shook his head. "I'm better suited for carpentry and mug-filling."

"And yet, by all accounts, you fought bravely when it came to fighting against the warg riders," Bard mused. "I merely inquire because men like the two of you don't come along every day and any king would be thankful to have you in his army."

"Thank you, milord," Warren replied with a small nod of his head. "We're honored that ya think of us at such a high caliber, but we're just not made for fightin'."

A reassuring smile came to Bard's face. "I understand," he told him. "Just know that if ever you change your mind, there are spots open for the both of you."

"If ever you need an ambassador to Erebor, I'm your man," Warren joked. "Until then…"

"You never know," Bard mused, "I may have need of one someday."

Warren chuckled, brushing the crumbs out of his beard. He glanced up as Rhovathor returned; he wasn't brought much comfort when he saw the elf rubbing his brow. "What is it?" he demanded, frowning.

"The reason she's still in pain is because there's still a bit of tooth stuck in the wound," the elf replied. "It's small and almost undetectable thanks to being stained with blood, but it's in there."

Will's eyes widened. "Can you get it out? Is she going to be alright?"

Rhovathor rubbed his brow again. "I'll have to do a bit of surgery while we're on the move today," he explained, crouching down and gathering up the still-full tea kettle. "Caranonel can feel a storm fast approaching. It will be unwise to linger here any longer. I will be in the wagon with Baylee; if you need anything, seek out my sister."

Warren got to his feet and excused himself from the group, moving to follow Rhovathor. "Is it infected?" he quietly asked, coming alongside the elf.

Rhovathor nodded. "And there are signs of the infection beginning to spread," he replied. "If we had met any later, I am positive we would have to remove her leg. As it stands, though, I will be able to help her."

"Good, good…Do ya know if she'll be able t' walk normally again after this?"

He sighed. "That I cannot tell you. The wound is rather traumatic for a person of her size; she could end up walking normally after it's healed or she could forever have to use crutches. It's still too early yet to tell."

For a moment, Warren closed his eyes, sending a silent prayer to Estë for a quick recovery for his daughter. "I trust your work, Rhovathor," he told him. "You've proved more than once that you're a capable healer. Baylee will be fine in your hands."

"I'm glad that you have so much faith in me," Rhovathor chuckled. "Even though I'm an elf, not many would put their daughter's life in my hands."

Warren rolled his eyes. "I've known ya since I was a lad, Rhovathor. I've seen you save countless lives over the years." He glanced at the elf; he looked nothing like the elves that came from Mirkwood, for his hair was black and his skin as white as snow. "Though, I must admit tha' something's been on my mind."

"My presence on this side of the Misty Mountains?"

"Aye."

For a moment, Rhovathor was silent. As they approached the wagon where Baylee was resting, he set his hand on the wood, but paused before he could hop in. "You humans call it intuition," he finally replied. "The world is changing, Warren, and I believe it will start here, in the eastern shadow of the mountains. Your father sent me to watch over you and your family."

Warren rubbed his forehead. "So he's still alive, is he?" The elf nodded. "His mantle must be greyer than ash by now. Does he send any tidings?"

"No more than usual. Arnor is still held fast against its enemies, but every year, more and more come into our lands."

"And I suppose he still wishes that I hadn't left."

Rhovathor nodded. "He still laments how the greatest protector of the Shire had forsaken his duty-"

"I didn't forsake my duty. I wanted a family and I knew I couldn't have one when I was with the Dúnedain!"

Rhovathor held up his hands in a gesture of defense. "I am only telling you the words he spoke. I understand your need for a family; I long for one myself." He glanced over his shoulder, into the wagon, as he heard a hiss of pain. "I need to tend to Baylee," he sighed. "You should pack up and make ready to leave."

Warren nodded. "Just…just be careful with her, alright? She's a wee lil' thing an'-"

"I know, Warren, I know." Hopping into the wagon, he made his way past the few barrels to the corner where Baylee was lying. A lantern had been hung from the top of the wagon, bathing her in a soft glow. He was more than a little surprised to find her sitting up, since he had left her lying down. She was spooning some porridge into her mouth as he approached and she gave him a small wave.

"I see you've been brought some food," he chuckled as he knelt down beside her.

"And I've the feelin' I'm not goin' t' be finishing it," she replied. "You're goin' t' work on it right away, then?"

"You have enough time for a few more bites," he smiled. "I still have to make the potion that will send you into sleep."

She cringed slightly. "Are ya positive ya can't just do it while I'm awake?"

His brow rose as he went through his satchel. "I could, but I'm confident it will leave you in massive amounts of agony." He pulled out a small bottle containing a green liquid as well as a few leaves of a strange herb. "I've tended to you enough times, little one. Do you not trust me after all this time?"

"I trust ya, Rhovathor, I just don't like the idea o' bein' asleep while someone's pokin' an' proddin' around in my skin. What if I don't wake up?" She looked down into her bowl, biting her tongue.

He set his hand on her shoulder. "I can tell you that you will wake up," he assured her, "and when you do, your side will still ache, but not nearly as much as it has been."

"Promise?"

He smiled. "I promise."

Caranonel had her eyes shut as she listened to the sounds around her. Nearest to her were the noises of men and dwarves hastily throwing their gear into packs and saddlebags while their horses snorted impatiently; they were eager to get going. A bit farther off, she could hear the rushing of the river as followed its course south before turning abruptly to the east and towards Dorwinion. A ways away from that, the cawing of low-flying birds could be heard as they stayed close to the forest and to the hills.

Farthest away, but getting nearer every minute, was the storm.

It was a large storm and it would bring with it howling winds and great cracks of thunder. As of yet, she couldn't hear the rain, but when she opened her eyes and stared far-off into the north, she could see the great, black clouds swollen with water. They would be riding into the storm, meeting it head-on with only the low hills for cover. It would be dangerous, but it was their only choice; they had no way of crossing the river and, even if they did, they could not get everyone across in time.

"What do you see?" Bard had come to stand alongside her, his eyes also fixed on the horizon. His human sight only allowed him to see the flat plains and the unthreatening grey clouds.

"A massive storm is coming," she warned him, not taking her earthy eyes off the distance. "We will be riding into it and will have no shelter. From the river we'll be safe, but from the wind…" She lightly shook her head and looked at the human king. "We need to get into the hills before it reaches us; there we will have some cover from the wind."

He nodded in understanding. "Thank you, Caranonel," he told her. "Your sight, now more than ever, has proven to be of a great use."

She nodded. "I also suggest convincing some of the injured dwarves to ride in the wagon."

"Why is that? So they won't be tussled about as much?"

A slight grin came to her lips. "To weigh it down." Before Bard could reply, she excused herself, going to find her horse.

Bard shook his head, muttering to himself about the 'friendship' between dwarves and elves and how it seemed almost akin to the one between humans and goblins.

Bifur did not like storms. He never had. Something about the mixture of rain, wind, thunder, and lightning had always unnerved him, as if the Dark One was sending forth their first wave of destruction into the world. Of course, that hadn't been the case for many, many centuries –not since the downfall of Mordor.

Yet, he could never quite get it out of his mind that there was some sort of evil force driving the storms. He had heard the tales of how the day of Smaug's coming had started out beautifully only to turn into utter chaos as the dragon swooped in. But this was no dragon-brought storm; he had talked to the elven woman. Caranonel had assured him that it was a storm created by nature and had no taint of evil to it. It did little to ease him.

She was strange, he thought, even for an elf. Then again, he hadn't met many elves in his lifetime, but those that he had had the 'pleasure' of meeting were certainly far different from what he had been expecting. Caranonel, however, had fit his exact image of an elf before he and the rest of Thorin's Company had entered Mirkwood. She was observant, though she spoke little and tended to stare past a person rather than at them. Despite being siblings, she was not often near Rhovathor, preferring to instead stay by Warren, Will, or Baylee.

But she had warned them that they would be facing the storm, head-on, and he was thankful for that.

As such, Bard had ordered everyone to partner up and tie their horses to one another so that, should it become hard to see or a horse tried to bolt off, they could have some help remaining with the group. Ori, Nori, and Zori had been put into the wagon with Baylee; he had tried to convince Lovisa to go into the wagon as well and let him steer, but she adamantly refused. So now he sat beside her on the front bench of the wagon, his cloak huddled around himself as bitterly cold winds blew down on them.

He glanced over at Lovisa, watching as she adjusted herself on the seat, lightly tugging on the reins to bring the horses closer to the riders. She winced as a gust of wind blasted past them, forcing her to shield her face with her free hand while the other continued to grip the reins. Bifur mentally sighed; she was a stubborn woman and he was praying that her stubbornness would not be her downfall.

When she had lowered her hand, Bifur signed at her. 'Positive not want lay down?'

She nodded. 'Am fine. Wind just pain. Cold! Thought was summer, not winter.' A playful smirk came to her lips, earning a bit of relief from Bifur. She held up her hand as another gust of wind assaulted their faces.

'If start getting tired, let know. Will take over if need.'

Lovisa dismissively waved her hand. 'Am fine. Half dwarrow, remember? Can handle anything storm throws at me.' She looked ahead of them, at the dark clouds and she grinned slightly. 'Have faced worse than little storm.'

Bifur's brow rose. 'This storm not little.'

'For north, is little. Have been here five years, not gone through bad storm?'

He shrugged. 'Hard to know when live in mountain. Weather not really felt there.'

She nodded in understanding. 'May be half dwarrow, but not understand need to live in mountains. Air must get stale. Is always fresh out in the open.'

'Too fresh right now.' He grumbled and pulled his cloak closer around him. 'Hate storms.' Bifur closed his eyes and shook his head. His eye cracked open slightly as he felt an arm slip around his upper back. Lovisa lightly pulled him closer to her, giving him a comforting squeeze.

'Will pass,' she assured him. 'Will pass then get warm again. Almost home! Think of warm tea, good soup. Will be good homecoming. Friends, family, food. What more could look forward to?'

With a small sigh, Bifur unclasped his cloak and wrapped it around the both of them. He gave her a small, defeated smile. "Not much," he verbally replied before kissing her cheek.

It was the thunder that finally woke Baylee up. Her side ached something fierce, but it wasn't the same, heated throbbing that she had felt that morning. Something was also lying on her stomach; what it was, she wasn't able to tell at the moment. She quietly groaned and opened her eyes just in time to witness the wagon lighting up as lightning streaked across the sky. Wincing, she started to push herself upright when a hand lightly pushed her back down.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now." It was Nori's voice. "Ori's usin' your leg as a pillow an' Zori's taken up residence on your stomach. He's not asleep, but he's a bit calmer now that he's got a soft bed."

She nodded slowly. "How long have I been out?"

"Since morning, as far as I know."

"An' what time is it now?"

"I haven't got an idea. It could be afternoon, could be dark…Storm's been goin' for hours. I can't keep track o' time in here. Sorry 'bout Zori."

She raised her hand up and lightly stroked Zori's head. "It's alright. He's probably terrified o' the storm. Not everyone can like 'em."

Lightning cracked overhead and Nori winced. "You like storms?"

A tired, yet cheeky, grin went unseen in the darkness that followed. "I love storms. I wish I could see this one instead o' lying here." She winced as she shifted slightly, thunder booming overhead. "How're the others?"

"No telling. They're outside, all roped together." He fumbled around with something before suddenly producing a warm glow. Baylee blinked against the lantern's light, holding her hand up to shield her eyes. "Sorry, but I thought it'd be better than the lightnin'."

"Understandable. Just don't drop it…could light everythin' on fire."

He nodded, leaning back against one of the barrels. "How d'you feel? I heard you had a bit of surgery this morning."

"Sore, but I think that's also because I've been asleep most o' the day on this horrid bed." She watched as Nori reached into one of the smaller barrels only to pull out some jerky. He had searched out the softest bits and offered them to Baylee.

"Here. You could use some food," he told her. "It's not as good as soup or stew, but it'll do for now."

"Thank you." Taking the jerky, she took a bite and started to slowly chew it. "I could really go for some potato an' leek stew soon," she murmured. "Galiene makes a wonderful potato an' leek stew…she sometimes adds in some roasted chicken an' carrots, too. I know it sounds it odd, but it's good."

Nori chuckled. "I remember. She made it a few months ago when your brother just returned from the east."

"Aye…an' how delicious it was." She looked down as Zori whimpered, a particularly loud boom of thunder shaking the wagon. Barely a second later, lightning shot across the sky. A second after that, more earth-shaking thunder and even more lightning. "Storm's right over us," she uselessly told Nori; her voice was drowned out by the thunder.

Ori sat up, startled by the noise around them. Through the candlelight, the other two could see his mouth moving, but couldn't hear him. As a result, he frowned and started signing at them. 'Storm getting bad!'

'Storm right over us,' Baylee signed. She watched as Nori lifted Zori from her stomach, doing his best to shield the baby's ears from the loud noise. 'Will pass soon. Things get quiet when get out of it.'

The two dwarves nodded, Nori unable to reply. Baylee winced as she forced herself to sit up and lean against the side of the wagon. Taking her blanket, she painfully leaned forward and wrapped it around Zori and Nori, doing her best to pad the child's ears against the loud thunder. She held her hand against the wound on her stomach as she rested back again.

'Will must be having the time of his life out there, riding through this storm,' she thought. 'Second storm this year I missed getting to watch.' Looking down at her wound, she sighed. 'Not either of our faults, though…and I suppose this one is for the best. I just wish I could see it.'

When the storm finally passed, it was morning and the riders were absolutely soaked. Since they had been tied to one another, most had chosen to sleep in the saddle, no matter how loud and fearsome the storm had been; their exhaustion was far greater. Now, however, the sun was out and the air quite warm. Wet clothing was removed from bodies and laid out on rocks to dry while tired men and dwarves either did their best to sleep or made hot pots of stew and soup.

Warren, though, was sitting with his children in the wagon. Will and Baylee were leaning against one side while he sat atop a barrel. All three of them were eating bowls of soup.

"How is everyone else?" Baylee asked them, trying to fish a carrot out of the broth. "I can't imagine that they're doin' too well after bein' in the saddle all night through such a storm."

Warren shook his head. "No, they're not. Even Bard's exhausted. They all look like a bunch o' sopping wet dogs an' rats." He covered his mouth with the back of his hand as he yawned. "Bofur's pigtails nearly got themselves tangled up in big ol' knot."

"Poor thing…Looks like I'll have t' help him get his hair straightened out later," Baylee chuckled. "What about his hat? Did it manage t' stay on his head?"

"Aye, it did," Will chuckled. "He's sleepin' right now, but I'll be sure t' tell him to visit when he gets up."

Raising his brow, Warren glanced between his children. He had the odd feeling that they knew something he didn't, but ignored it for now; they had always had their secrets and he was in no place to question them. They would, in time, tell him –that much he knew. "So, how're you feelin' today, Baylee? Did Rhovathor's bit o' surgery help?"

She let out a laugh. "Aye, it did, but I'm still sore –but not the same sort o' sore that I had been feelin'. I don't think I'll be doin' much walking for the next few days, though."

Will reached over and ruffled her hair. "You need the rest, though."

"I'm tired o' sittin' around an' being useless, though! I can't stand sittin' still this long."

Warren moved his bowl closer to Baylee's, scooping some carrots from his bowl and into hers. "'Lee, I know you were never one t' sit still –you were always the more energetic o' you two- but ya must rest. If you go about, running around an' helping everyone in the camp, you'll never heal." Glancing up at her, he gave her a rather fatherly look. "Anyway, look at the weight you're gainin'! You've always been too skinny; now you're gettin' nice an' plump."

"I'm not a chicken, papa! I don't need t' be fattened up." She pouted and ate some of the carrots her father had given her.

Warren ruffled her hair. "Of course you're not a chicken…Not after what you've been through. I'd be surprised if anyone considered ya less than a wolf."

Rolling her eyes, she let out a quiet laugh. "I'm not a wolf, either. I'm just a girl."

"Who has lost two fingers and nearly her leg." The three humans looked up as Bofur appeared at the back of the wagon. He gave the three of them a cheeky grin, a look that earned a giggle from Baylee thanks to his incredibly messy hair. Like the rest of the males, he had taken off his tunic, shirt, and boots, leaving him in just his trousers with his hat tucked into his belt. "An' she's also a pretty good fighter, if I may say. I think that makes her at least a wolf pup. Or maybe just a very feisty sheep."

"A feisty sheep!?" Baylee giggled.

"Aye, a feisty sheep!"

Warren's brow rose for the second time that day. "Oy, I thought you were sleeping, lad?"

"I was, but the sun's far too warm t' sleep for long," he replied. "Anyway, it's been awhile since I visited Baylee, so I thought I'd stop by. Though, I see the wagon's a bit full right now, so I think I'll stand out here."

"Actually," spoke Will, "I was just gettin' ready to leave. I need more soup." He nodded to his sister and father before getting up and leaving the wagon.

"Come on in," Warren said, motioning for Bofur to climb in. "You're startin' to turn pink from the sun."

Bofur smirked. "I managed t' avoid Lovisa and her sun ointment," he boasted. Crawling into the wagon, he plopped down on the floorboards at the foot of Baylee's makeshift bed.

Baylee laughed. "It's helped us this far, Bofur."

"I know, lass, but I think if I had t' smell that stuff on my skin for one more day, I'd go insane."

Warren snorted. "As if you're not already."

Bofur grinned. "Only slightly." He blinked as Baylee leaned over and started to untie his spectacularly messy braids.

"This is goin' to take quite a while," Baylee sighed, trying to be gentle as she untangled the leather cord from his locks. "That storm really did a number on ya, lad."

"Eh, my hair has been through worse, I assure you."

Leaning back, Warren watched as his daughter continued to struggle against Bofur's hair. All the while, he wondered if she knew that doing such was a sign of flirtation amongst dwarves. If she did know, he thought, she was doing a rather good job of hiding her affections –and Bofur was doing quite a job hiding any sort of emotion besides his joyfulness at the storm being over.

'Then again, she probably doesn't know,' he thought to himself. 'She hasn't been exposed to the dwarves as much as me; she doesn't know their culture too well. Anyway, Bofur's going to age slower than her and she knows it. She'll more than likely pick a nice human lad…'

"Papa? Are ya feeling alright?"

He glanced up, seeing both Baylee and Bofur looking at him with concern. "Sorry, 'Lee. What was that?"

"I asked if ya were feelin' alright…" She frowned. "You hadn't been answerin' my questions; you were just sort o' starin' past me at the canvas."

Giving her a reassuring smile, Warren stood up and ruffled her hair. "Everything's fine, 'Lee. Don't you worry about me; I'm still just a wee bit tired from last night. Hand me your bowl."

She held up her now-empty soup bowl, watching as her father took it. "Thank ya, papa."

Warren knelt down and kissed her forehead. "You get some rest. I know ya don't want to, but it'll help." And then he hopped out of the wagon, walking off.

Bofur quietly laughed. "I take it you've been protestin' against nappin' again?"

Her cheeks turned pink as she went back to finger-combing the third of his hair. "Aye. I can't help that I feel so cooped up an' useless in this bed."

He gave her a bit of a scolding look. "You've been anythin' but useless, love." He watched her fingers delicately work through the many knots and tangles in his hair. "An' you had t' go under the knife yesterday. I'm surprised you're even able t' sit up today after that."

"This bed isn't comfortable," she sighed. "Nor am I one for lying down all day. After all, I normally run around an inn, tryin' to feed patrons an' keep the rooms clean."

"Think of this as a holiday," he told her. "Aye, you're injured, but at least it's keepin' you off your feet for a while." A mischievous grin came to his features. "Means I can sit an' talk with you for longer periods o' time as well."

Rolling her eyes, Baylee quietly laughed and nuzzled her nose against his cheek. "Aye, that it does. Though ah…when do ya think we should tell papa about 'us'? Otherwise, it's goin' t' be a wee bit hard for the two o' us to keep 'this' secret."

"Give him a bit o' time. After all, I'm sure he's still reelin' a bit from findin' out about Adela's pregnancy." He turned a bit so that Baylee could start on the second braid in his hair. "I can't imagine the sort o' shock he had to have gone through when that happened. I mean, the day after he found out about Will an' Adela courtin', he was as white as a ghost. Every time he saw the two o' them together, he'd mumble something an' shake his head…" He shook his own head. "But he got over it. Only to find out Adela's pregnant! Boy, that must o' been a hard time for him…"

Baylee let out a quiet sigh. "Aye, it does sound like we should give him a wee bit o' time then. No doubt he'll be glad I found a lad, but he didn't seem entirely….enthusiastic at the idea o' me courtin' a dwarf."

"What d'ya mean, love?"

"Before we left for Lake Town, papa had a little chat with me…about how I needed t' start lookin' for a husband."

Bofur frowned. "He never seemed the type t' worry about that sort o' thing."

"I know, so he left me a wee bit confused there. But he was tellin' me that he wanted me t' find a lad that I loved an' that I shouldn't rush into anythin', but when I asked how he'd feel if I fell for a dwarven male…He was relatively hesitant."

With another grin, Bofur looked over his shoulder at Baylee. "Ah, so even before I helped rescue you, ya had a fondness for me?" he teased.

Her cheeks turning deep red, Baylee giggled and lightly smacked his shoulder. "Oh, shush you!"

He teasingly wiggled his eyebrows. "It's the braids, isn't it? The ladies can't resist them."

Her brow rose and she smirked as she kissed his cheek. "No. It was the smile under that mustache o' yours."

"Oh, well that's a relief," he chuckled, nuzzling his nose against hers. "Because I fell for your smile, too."

Caranonel had her arms crossed over her chest as she stood at the edge of the resting group. Facing north-west, she peered across the hilly plains, a bit of a smile on her features. In the vast distance (at least, to human eyes), she could see the city of Dale perched atop the enormous, rocky hill. The city appeared to be no more than a pebble, safeguarded by the Lonely Mountain's encompassing roots. In the afternoon sunlight, the mountain glistened, its slopes still wet from the previous day's rain.

"I see we are nearer to Dale than we had anticipated." Rhovathor came to stand beside her, his hands clasped behind his back. "I guess the fear of the storm was enough of a slave driver to push them an extra ten miles last night."

"Do not forget about their sheer will to see their homes again," Caranonel added. "Especially those who have gone to Rhûn and back. They long for their own beds and their families." She turned her head, looking at her brother. "How is Baylee?"

"She will live. In fact, she is already sitting up and enjoying merry conversation," he answered. "But whether she will walk again is another story. That wound was bad; what I had thought to be a fragment of a tooth was actually a fragment of her own bone. It will take longer to heal than what she wants, that is certain. And when she is healed…" He lightly shook his head. "She may require those crutches for the rest of her life. But her will is strong; I sense she will fight past the crutches."

A smile graced his sister's lips. "Good. She and the beardless dwarf –Ori, was his name?- have been through much. He told me their tale in its entirety the night before last. He is rather polite for a dwarf."

"He is, isn't he?" He smiled as well. "These dwarves are different from most we've met. Despite their hardships they seem…happier than those in Ered Luin or the Iron Hills."

"And yet, I can see in their eyes that they all bear a great sorrow deep within their souls. No dwarf we have met prior to them has born this grief."

Rhovathor glanced at his sister, watching as a few strands of her hair was plucked up by the light, warm breeze. It gaily danced about her neck and shoulders, reminding him of how she had come by her name. "I wonder what could have brought about such feelings in them? It is an unusual thing to see in their kind these days."

She lightly shrugged. "I do not know and I do not care to guess, brother. What grief they hold is their own; though we may ponder what makes them unhappy, it is not our place to pry." Turning from the sight of Dale and Erebor, she looked over their encampment. "It is, however, my place to inform Bard and Warren that we're only two days from their home." She started to walk away.

"I think you are just looking for an excuse to speak with Warren."

Caranonel stopped in her tracks. Her brow raised, she turned to look at her brother. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing, sister. Enjoy your chat with the men. I think I will go hunt out some herbs for dinner…" Before his sister could reply, he began walking away. When he had gone some yards and Caranonel had continued, he suddenly turned around. "By the way, Caranonel –don't gawk at his muscles for too long. He may get suspicious." A laugh left his mouth as he ducked, his face narrowly avoiding collision with a small rock.