A/N: Hey guys, look! Three updates in one month! Also, I recently discovered I can put illustrations into chapters over on Archive Of Our Own, so guess what? Chapters 5 and 29 have illustrations over there (same username, same story title if you get curious). Anyway, enjoy~!

Chapter Twenty-Nine

When Dís awoke, she found herself lying in a feather bed. Her cloak and boots had been removed and were resting some feet away. Brows furrowed, she began to sit up only to have her spine protest. Having spent most of the night asleep on a cold, stone floor had made her stiff and sore. Slowly, she pushed herself to sit upright and felt parts of her back pop back into place, bringing about some relief.

She did not recognize this place.

Judging by the size of the room and the richly colored silk bedding, she was in the home of a wealthy dwarf. The room was sparsely decorated, with a washbasin resting atop a dresser and her belongings sitting on the table. A doorway that led into a separate, private bathing chamber was covered by an elegantly beaded curtain.

She was just tossing the blankets back when there was a knock on the door. "Enter," she called, though the caution was all-too evident in her tone.

The door opened and Dwalin stepped into the room. He wore a small, sad smile as he looked upon her. "I'm glad to that you're awake, my lady."

"Dwalin…It has been a while." She returned the smile, though it faltered when she saw that he was missing an eye. "What happened to you? When you came to Ered Luin, you bore no such scars…"

"There…was a small incident involving Ori and a friend o' ours," he replied.

"I would not think that an incident involving the loss of one's eye qualified as 'small'," she dryly told him. Standing, she walked over to him and cupped his face in her hands, lightly pulling him down to her level so she could better inspect the injury. "These were left by a warg," she murmured, more to herself than to Dwalin.

He nodded, freeing himself of her grip. "It's a long story," he told her, "one that's best told over an ale or two. You, however, have a story that I need to know. Why are you here, Dís?"

She turned away from him, her hands lightly gripping the edge of her sleeve. "There was nothing left for me in Ered Luin," she softly explained. "My friends had gone and my family was slain. When you came to me five years ago and told me of all that had transpired, I knew that I had to return to my homeland. But there was still so much I had to do…" Closing her eyes, she let out a quiet sigh. "It was only recently that I was finally released from my duties as Stewardess of Ered Luin."

"Was there anyone else with you?"

Shaking her head, she turned around to face him once more. "No. I would not allow anyone to come with me."

"My lady, forgive my bluntness, but that was a foolish idea. The mountain passes are dangerous an' you could have been attacked by bandits or goblins or-"

"I've done many foolish things in my life, Dwalin, son of Fundin, and traveling alone is the least of them!" she tersely interrupted. For a moment, she wore a look of defiance, but it quickly faded into one of shame and hurt. "Forgive me, my old friend. The journey was…long." Turning away from him, she raised a hand to her forehead.

Dwalin looked at the woman with respect and with pity. He had known Dís since birth; she had always wanted to tag along with Thorin, Frerin, and him when they went to go play in the fields outside of Erebor. Her brothers, of course, had always refused to allow her to join –they were going to fight and hunt bugs and other such things that females would find 'nasty'- and it had always been he who had coaxed the others into letting her join. Because of this, he had watched her grow into a capable woman who was not afraid to swing her fist –or blade- should the need arise.

To now see her standing before him, left so utterly helpless by the loss of her family, broke Dwalin's heart.

Going to her, he set his hands on her shoulders. "You don't need to hold back here, Dís. Balin an' I are your friends. We won't judge you for sheddin' a tear or ten."

A small smile graced Dís' lips. "Thank you, Dwalin."

He returned the look. "If I were in your place, I know you'd do the same for me."

She nodded. "That I would. But now I must ask you something –How came you by me?"

At that, Dwalin rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away. "Truth be told, my lady, I followed you. I was comin' into Erebor from Dale and I spotted Thorin's cloak…"

As he spoke, Dís went over to the table where her cloak was neatly folded. Unfolding it, she ran the worn material through her fingers. "I'm surprised that anyone remembers what his cloak looked like," she admitted.

"I traveled with him long enough t' recognize his footfalls, my lady." He set his hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "Are you hungry? Balin's not awake yet, but I can make some eggs an' bacon if you'd like."

Dís cocked her head. "Not awake yet? What time is it?"

"Not quite dawn," he answered.

"Then I did not sleep for long…"

"Actually, my lady –you slept for two days." He chuckled as he saw her cheeks turn bright red. "You traveled over two thousand miles; you clearly needed the rest."

She shook her head. "I have been a burden-"

"Oh no you haven't! If anything, it's an honor t' have you in our home," he firmly told her. "Truth be told, we'd much rather have you here than Dain."

Her brows furrowed. "And why is that? It should be an honor to host a king in one's home."

Dwalin glanced away, his voice falling quiet as if he were afraid of being heard. "He's not our king."

He streaked through the sky, his bejeweled scales lit brilliantly by the raging fires of Lake Town. So elegant he weaved his way through the air that he looked to be a kite –until he opened his maw and fire spewed forth, destroying more of the town. Smoke of pine and of cedar and of oak stung her eyes and filled her lungs, making her cough while the fire raged around her.

People dove into the icy waters of the Long Lake in their attempts to flee the chaos and she nearly joined them if it hadn't been for the quick tug on her arm of someone dragging her into a boat. She looked up only to see the ash streaked face of—

Now she was trekking alongside a mule, her body tired and aching as she marched along with the small coalition of men who traveled with Bard and the Elvenking to the foothills of the mountain. Behind them lay the smoldering ruins of Lake Town, where many of the people remained in hopes of salvaging together some form of winter shelter. Many times she stumbled, for her weariness had left her mind in a haze.

Someone grabbed her shoulders and pulled her against their side. "Keep goin', sweet one," a gentle voice told her. "We'll soon stop and you can rest then. But for now, you must keep going. Can you do that for me, sweet one?"

She nodded, forcing one foot in front of the other and doing her best to keep pace with the woman. "What's going t' happen to us?"

"I don't know, sweet one. I honestly don't know."

Battle suddenly sprang into life around her. Orcs were everywhere, their shouts and the metallic ring of their weapons hitting against other weapons were all that she could hear. Panic filled her when she realized that she was alone. Her right ear was aflame with pain and she could taste blood in her mouth…and yet, something inside her told her to keep fighting –that if she held out for just a bit longer, everything would be alright.

An orc charged at her and she raised her shield arm, deflecting his blow and giving her the chance to strike at his stomach. Right behind him, however, another orc dashed forward, wildly swinging a club. She hadn't enough time to block the blow-

A shield blocked the club and a sword took off the orc's head. "Remind me t' have you work on your footwork later, sweet one. Now, keep your back t' me! The battle is almost won."

Doing as she was told, she continued to fight. Exhaustion made her limbs heavy and pain seemed to come from every part of her body, but she continued to fight until there was only a single orc before her. She shouted something –she could never recall what, exactly- and lunged forward, stabbing her sword at an angle up through its ribs, watching as it stumbled back, the blade still lodged in its chest.

Something slammed into her back and she toppled forward. For a moment, she was unable to move, though she could feel a flood of hot liquid soaking into her hair and trickling down the skin of her face and neck. At first, she thought nothing of it and forced the thing on her back off of her as she got to her knees. Rubbing her face, she didn't care when she smeared the liquid over her cheeks –after all, it couldn't be any worse than orc blood.

And then she saw the pair of lifeless, green eyes staring at her. The mouth slightly agape in shock. The severed, blonde braid unfurling on the grass where a body should have been, its ends bloodstained. It was then she realized that what had fallen on her was a headless body and the liquid that had covered her was blood –not orc, but human. And the face that was staring at her…

Baylee was thrashing about in her bed when Bofur ran in and her skin pale, coated by a thick, cold sweat. He raced to her side and grabbed her shoulders, trying to wake her from the nightmare and bring an end to her screaming. After a third, hard shake her eyes shot open and she pulled away from Bofur to look around, bewildered.

It wasn't the first time he had witnessed one of her nightmare fits; she had four on the return journey from Rhûn. It was, however, his first time seeing her have such a bad one –the previous fits, she had merely tossed and turned while whimpering in her sleep. He watched as she covered her face, her whole body shaking as she quietly sobbed into her palms.

Cautiously, he reached a hand out, setting it on her shoulder. "Baylee?" he quietly asked. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know," she whimpered. She pulled her face from her hands, looking at him. Her eyes were full of fear from the nightmares.

Bofur crawled onto the bed and gently brought her into his arms. "Everything's alright, lass," he softly told her. He started to stroke her hair as he felt her grip his shirt. "Everyone's safe an' sound. There's nothin' t' be scared of."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I-I can't stop 'em. I'm sorry."

He frowned, looking down at her. "Why are ya sorry, love? O' course you can't stop 'em; they're nightmares."

Baylee shook her head. "For wakin' you. Sometimes I can wake myself up before she—before they end, but I couldn't this time." She buried her face in his chest, her knuckles white as she still held onto his shirt.

Bofur nuzzled her affectionately; he had taken note of how she had quickly corrected herself, but he knew better than to question it. Instead, he let his fingers of one hand run through her hair while the other lightly rubbed her back in slow circles. Kissing her temple, he shifted himself slightly so that his head wasn't pressed against the edge of the headboard.

After a while, she sniffed and whipped her nose on the sleeve of her nightgown. "I supposed Bifur an' Lovisa have left then," she murmured.

"Why do you say that?"

"Elsewise, they'd be the ones in here."

Lightly tilting her head up, he stole a soft kiss from her. "I'd be in here, even if they were here," he quietly assured her. "Don't you doubt that." He gave her a loving smile and brushed some hair from her face. "Are you feelin' better?"

She nodded, kissing his lower lip. "A little," she replied, letting her head rest against his chest. "…Will ya stay the rest o' the night with me?"

He felt his cheeks turn a bit red. "Aye, I will. But only because you asked so nicely," he teased.

Baylee smiled, letting her eyes close. "We won't tell Will or papa, though," she joked in return. "Wouldn't want them turnin' you into a new bag or somethin'."

At that, he outright laughed. "Don't go scarin' me now, lass! It was terrifyin' enough havin' your da' half-glare at me over the dinner table even after I made sure tha' he was fine with us courtin'!"

She quietly giggled and nuzzled into him. "Oh, don't worry…He wouldn't actually do tha'. You make me happy an' he won't take that from me."

He kissed her temple again before once again shifting his position; now he was properly laying down, Baylee held in the crook of his arm with her head atop his shoulder. "Good," he murmured, resting his free arm behind his head. "Now let's get some shut-eye an' only have good dreams, aye?" He smiled down at her.

She glanced up at him. "…Can ya sing me a song?" she shyly asked.

"Anythin' for ya," he chuckled. "What song?"

"Any song, so long as it's happy."

Nodding slowly, Bofur mentally went through all of the songs he knew. He knew plenty of happy songs –it was mostly a question of how lewd the lyrics could get that made him think. After a few moments, however, he thought he had found the perfect lyrics; they came from an old song that he remembered his father singing to his mother.

Come live with me an' be my love,

And we will all the pleasures prove

That hill an' valley, dale an' field,

And all the craggy mountains yield.

There we will sit upon the rocks,

An' see the shepherds feed their flocks,

By shallow rivers t' whose falls

Melodious birds sing madrigals.

There I will make thee beds of roses

An' a thousand fragrant posies,

A cap of flowers, and a kirtle

Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made o' the finest wool

Which from our pretty lambs we pull;

Fair lined slippers for the cold,

With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds,

With coral clasps and amber studs:

And if these pleasures may thee move,

Come live with me and be my love.

Thy silver dishes for thy meat,

As precious as the gods do eat,

Shall on an ivory table be

Prepared each day for thee an' me.

The shepherds' swains shall dance an' sing

For thy delight each May morning:

If these delights thy mind may move,

Then live with me an' be my love.

Looking down at Baylee, he smiled; she was fast asleep with a smile on her lips.

By the time the sun had risen, Lovisa and Bifur were far from the Lonely Mountain and its foothills. They had left well before sunrise, knowing that it would be best to reach the eaves of Mirkwood before dark so that they could scout out possible boar trails. Currently, though, they were somewhere between the forest and the mountain and beginning to feel the toll of having left so early.

Bifur covered his mouth as he let out a large yawn. Beside him, he heard Lovisa chuckle. "What's so funny?" he asked, amused as he looked up at her.

She grinned, glancing down at him. 'Sun only just rose; tired already!' she teased, letting the reins drape over the pommel of her saddle.

He let out a laugh. "Oh, ha, ha," he chuckled. "I just need a bit to eat –then, I'll be right as rain." Turning, he reached back into his saddlebag and pulled out some jerky and a hard biscuit.

'Am sure of it,' she smiled. Pulling a flask from her hip, she flicked it open and took a small drink of the liquid inside. As it slid down into her stomach, it filled her whole body with pleasant warmth –a good thing, for the mornings were beginning to turn crisp as autumn settled in. She offered the flask to Bifur who cocked his brow at it.

"What's in it?" he asked, taking it from her.

She shrugged and gazed back out at the lands ahead of them. A grin spread across her lips when she heard Bifur chuckle in surprise.

"I must admit, I wasn't expecting dwarvish whisky," he told her, offering the flask back.

'Need something to keep awake!' She wore a cheeky grin as she signed to him. 'Will need tonight when tracking.'

He nodded in agreement. "So…how big do the boars around here get? The ones in the hills of Ered Luin were seldom taller than my elbows."

'Biggest one that have seen was taller than me. Biggest one killed was tall as you.'

"You're lying!" he gaped.

'No,' she signed, shaking her head. 'Have plenty food here. Everything big in Mirkwood. Big trees, big deer, big boars…big egos.'

At that, Bifur burst out laughing. "I'll second tha'!" he cackled. "Their dungeons aren't so big, though."

She cocked her head. 'Have been in Mirkwood dungeons?'

"Aye –when Thorin's Company was on our way to Erebor. We had been followin' the Old Forest Road, but…well, shenanigans ensued and we ended up half starved. Three times we tried to politely ask the elves –who were off having parties- if we could have food, but they would have none o' it. They tossed us in jail. I don't remember quite how long we were in there, but we were eventually broken out by our burglar."

'Nori?'

He shook his head. "No, our burglar was a hobbit."

Her eyes brightened. 'Little fellow, big feet?' Bifur nodded as he took a bite out of a piece of jerky. 'Remember him! Polite little thing; was sick.' She glanced down at Bifur, who was still chewing. 'Why Nori not burglar?'

"Why, I don't know what you're talking about," Bifur innocently lied. He didn't want to betray his friend's criminal past, after all.

She gave him a dry look. 'Know he was thief once. Have seen him use thief cant; remember him stealing clothes for us.'

Bifur let out a defeated sigh; he had never been a good liar. "Nori used to be a bit of a thief, yes, but not anymore. He's trying t' make an honest living with his brothers –especially now that he's got Zori to watch over."

Lovisa's brow rose, a small, knowing smile. Even though she had known Nori for just a few months, she could easily tell that he had been more than 'a bit' of a thief in his past. It didn't bother her much, however –probably partially due to her mother having been a thief as well. She knew quite well that, sometimes, good people made poor decisions and she was rather sure that that was the case for Nori.

"Is the any other game besides boar and elk in the forest?" Bifur asked after a few moments of silence had passed.

'Not really. Are rabbits, pheasants, turkeys…that it. If hunt rabbits, only hunt northern rabbits. Southern rabbits could be of Rhosgobel. Too fast!'

Bifur scratched his beard; the name sounded familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place it. Shrugging it off, he took a bite out of his biscuit. Truthfully, he was much more tired than he was letting on, but he wasn't about to let Lovisa know. After all, he had once been a hunter; a few early mornings wouldn't do him any harm. If anything, they would do him good –he had been a bit lazy of late, idling his days playing with Bombur's children or carving little toys for them.

Lovisa, on the other hand, had been as busy as ever. On top of taking care of Baylee, she spent time helping Gerdi cook meals and clean dishes, as well as did much of the shopping. He had asked her once why she did so much work when she was also there to relax and finish healing; she had only given him a coy smile and set a bowl of soup in front of him before hurrying off to go get Baylee. She never seemed to take a break…

"So you mean to tell me that you have spent more time in the city of men than in the city of dwarrows?"

Dwalin leaned over, filling Dís' mug to the top with steaming tea. "Well…up until last spring, I spent all my time in Erebor." He set the kettle back atop the metal cooking rack before lightly prodding a skillet full of scrambled eggs. Dís had always preferred her eggs scrambled for some reason. "I paid Dale a visit for a few days an'…well, haven't left it much lately."

"Other than that unexpected trip to Rhûn?" She caught a plate as Dwalin tossed it to her, setting it down on the table just in time to catch a second dish. Setting this one down as well, she reached over and added a bit of honey to her tea.

"Aye, other than that," he told her. Grabbing the skillet, he brought it over to the table and filled Dís' plate with eggs; a hearty serving of crispy bacon soon join them. "It's been a bit…odd the last few months, to say the least."

She watched as he grabbed an egg and, with surprising delicacy, tapped it on the edge of the pan. "It certainly seems like it has been. You had never been the sort to remain amongst humans for any length of time; hearing that you now spend the majority of your time with them is quite a surprise." She blew on the top of her tea before risking a small sip –it wasn't quite sweet enough, so she added another dollop of honey. "Why don't you tell me how you lost your eye? We may not have ale, but a mug of tea can be just as good to drink during tales of adventure."

Dwalin cracked four more eggs into the pan, being quite careful to not let their yolks break. "I guess that is true," he mused. "Ori and a friend o' ours had gotten kidnapped by a band of raiders."

"Was this friend human?"

He nodded. "Aye, she's human –a dwarrow sized human, though."

There was mild surprise on Dís features. "Not only a human, but a female human?" she chuckled. "And this coming from the dwarrow who proclaimed that humans –especially females- were weak and shouldn't be bothered with!"

"Well, Baylee's proved me wrong," he admitted. He sat down with his plate of eggs and bacon. "She kept Ori safe while they were kidnapped; cost her two fingers an' almost her life, though." Cutting up some of the eggs, he smeared the yolks on a few pieces of bacon. "Anyway, Bofur, Bifur, Nori, Baylee's brother, Will, a half-dwarrow named Lovisa, an' I set out after them. We met up with some Dorwinion rangers an', thanks to Lovisa an' the rangers, found the city the raiders lived in."

"Raiders, living in a city?" She plucked up a piece of bacon and folded it in half before taking a large bite out of the middle.

He nodded. "Whole city full o' them. They were all female, too –any males were slaves or concubines."

"Sounds like a wonderful place."

Dwalin frowned until he saw the smile on her lips. "Anyway, thanks t' the rangers and a stroke of luck on Baylee and Ori's part, we managed t' get them out of the city. We didn't get too far, though –the raiders came after us with all their pet wargs." He shook his head at the memory. "Durin's beard, was that a battle…None o' us got out unscathed, save for Nori's adopted son…"

At that, Dís frowned. "Nori? As in Nori of the Northern Mountain, one of Ered Luin's greatest thieves?"

Rubbing the top of his tattooed head, Dwalin glanced away. "Well, he's not so much a thief anymore…"

Dís suddenly stood up, slamming her hands on the table. "Thorin took him on the quest!?" she cried.

"To his credit, he was a great asset-"

"But it was foolish of Thorin! You of all dwarrows should have prevented him from joining the Company!" She sat back down in a huff. "Surely he's been arrested?"

Dwalin shook his head. "He earned a full pardon –I've kept my eye on him, I swear that t' you, my lady. I swear upon the beards o' my ancestors that he's changed for the better."

"He had better, otherwise I will have your beard shaved off and turned into a belt," she threatened.

"As I said, he adopted a wee bairn, so that's most definitely an improvement."

She shook her head, sighing. "Durin help that poor child…" she murmured before eating some of her eggs. "So tell me of this human woman –Baylee, did you say her name was? How did you come to know her?"

"Well, her an' her family owns a wonderful inn in Dale," he explained. "The Full Tankard –an' they certainly live up t' the name. Don't think I ever had an empty mug there." He quietly laughed, shaking his head again. "Good food, too. Wonderful people, all o' them. Warren and Will are twice my size; they're the size o' small trees. Baylee's small, though –scarcely taller than me. Sweet as a wildflower, but she's a fighter, that's for sure." Not caring how hot his tea was, he guzzled down half of it.

"I am glad to hear that you have lost some of your prejudices against humans," she told him. "There are many in this world who a worthy of being friends with our kind." She moved to take a drink of her tea.

"Oh, Baylee's certainly more 'n a friend to Bofur," Dwalin muttered. He thought (and hoped) Dís hadn't heard him, but when she spluttered in her tea, he froze in embarrassment.

"This woman is courting a dwarrow?" she gaped.

Again, Dwalin rubbed the top of his head. "Aye…Bofur, as a matter of fact."

Her features softened into a tender smile. "He found love again? That's wonderful!" She dabbed at her chin and beard with a napkin, sopping up the tea that had spilt. "After his fiancée was killed, I feared he wouldn't find happiness again. Does he still make toys?"

"Aye. He an' Bifur have a toyshop in Dale as a matter of fact." He shoved the last bite of egg and bacon into his mouth, chewing it slowly.

"Oh, good! I will have to pay them a visit…I remember the toys they had made for the boys. Fíli and Kíli would spend hours-" She suddenly fell quiet, casting her gaze away from the dwarf across from her. She barely acknowledged it when Dwalin gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

With a small sigh, he stood up and took the empty plate from her. "They'll be delighted t' see you, my lady," he told her as he walked across the kitchen. "Especially Bombur. I'm sure he an' Gerdi will prepare you a feast o' all your favorite foods." He was trying his best to take her mind off her fallen sons, though he knew it would be almost impossible. "Why, Balin was saying just at dinner that he'll have to bring out his best mead."

"Correction, brother –I've already brought it out."

The two dwarves turned around, seeing Balin in the doorway. He wore a smile as he looked at Dís before bowing low. "My lady, I am glad to see you've awakened. I'm sorry for the unattractive accommodations, but Dwalin an' I don't get visitors very often."

"They're fine, I assure you." Dís rose to her feet and went over to her old tutor, giving him a large hug. "It is good to see you again, Balin!" Leaning back, she looked over the elderly dwarf, a smile on her lips. "Your beard has gotten quite a bit longer since I last saw you."

"And yours is as beautiful as it ever was, my lady," he smiled. "I see Dwalin's managed to cook some food; I hope it wasn't too horrible." They laughed as Dwalin shot him a not-so-polite retort.

"It was delicious, I assure you," she told him. "He's gotten much better over the years; he no longer burns the eggs. At least, none of my eggs seemed to be burnt." She cast a small smile towards Dwalin, a rare twinkle of playfulness in her eyes.

Balin chuckled and went over to the counter, grabbing a large knife. He used its point to pry the cork from the bottle of mead and, without needing to look, caught three clay cups as his brother tossed them over. "I'm sorry I wasn't awake sooner; these past few years of peace have made me a bit lazy, it seems." He filled each cup halfway with the mead; since it was still morning, he didn't want to indulge too much.

"Your hospitality is most welcomed, old friend," Dís told him as he handed a cup to her, "and certainly has not cooled over the years."

Balin smiled broadly. "Of course not, my lady –least of all for you, though I must say it was quite the surprise when Dwalin returned with you slumbering in his arms."

Her brow rose in amusement. "You make it sound as if I were some princess from a child's tale, Balin." She took a sip of the mead. "Mm, this is a fine vintage! Dorwinion mead, is it? About ten years?"

"It is!" he chirped. "You've always had a knack for guessing a drink's age." He tossed his mead back in a single, celebratory shot. Dwalin did the same, both males letting the alcohol fill their stomachs and warm their bodies.

Dís, however, continued to sip hers. She was still a bit tired and did not want to over-indulge, especially when she only had a bit of eggs and bacon in her stomach. "Is there anything I can do to repay the kindness the two of you have shown me –and, no doubt, will continue to show me?"

Balin shook his head. "No, my lady Dís," he told her, a hand resting on her shoulder. "The only thing you need do is rest. At long last, you have come home."

Sanna wandered through the mansion, trying to find someone who would play with her. Buruz and Grid were off at their lessons for the day with Balin and Edda was still much too small to play –let alone talk. She was the most boring sister in the world, thought Sanna, and her crying was annoying. But, babies cried a lot because they couldn't talk; they could get away with more things because of that. If she cried, she'd either get a scolding or a small kiss on whatever minor injury she had gotten and sent on her way.

She headed for the kitchen, where she knew she could get a snack if her father was cooking. Bombur, however, was out and her mother nowhere to be found. There was someone in the kitchen, though the young dwarrowlings hadn't expected to see her in there. Baylee stood at the sink, propped up on her crutches as she washed a few dishes. Sanna knew quite well that she wasn't supposed to be doing such work; she was hurt and was supposed to rest.

"Mama said no do that," she told the human, her tone scolding.

Baylee turned and smiled down at her. "Don't worry, little one –I'm just wiping the crumbs off of them."

"Mama said no do dishes," she repeated, plopping her hands on her hips in a mimicry of her mother. "Are hurt."

Baylee couldn't help but laugh at the child's firmness. Plucking up a towel, she dried the last dish and set it aside to properly dry. "There, no more dishes. Am I still in trouble?"

For a moment, Sanna was quiet and Baylee knew that, inside her little seven year-old mind, the pulleys and gears were turning. "No trouble if get seed cake," she proudly declared. She wore a smug look, as if she had managed to back the human into a corner.

"A seed cake, hmm?" Baylee giggled. "Have you had your lunch just yet?" She knew full well that Sanna hadn't had lunch; none of them had due to all the cooks being out and about.

The little girl looked crestfallen; she knew she couldn't lie her way out of this one. But, then, she remembered a meal that her father had taught her about…It was a meal he had learned about while he was away, being a hero. "Is elevensies!" she proudly proclaimed.

"Elevensies, is it? And just what is elevensies?"

"Elevensies is…Elevensies is –is hobbit food. Yes. Elevensies is hobbit food."

Baylee glanced past the girl; Berez had come into the kitchen, though his little sister had yet to see him. "Well, if elevensies is hobbit food, I'm afraid there's no elevensies here," she told the little girl, watching as Berez tried to not laugh. "There's only dwarrow food here!"

Pouting, Sanna crossed her arms over her chest. "Noo! Hobbits eat elevensies." She suddenly let out a shriek and giggled as Berez snatched her up and tossed her into the air. "Ganagif! Ganagif, Berez!" she squealed as he tossed her again.

"Is this little badger trying to get a snack before lunch again?" he asked, tossing his sister a third time. This time, he caught her by the ankles and dangled her upside down.

"Aye," Baylee told him. "If I didn't give her a seed cake, she'd run off an' tell your mother that I was doing some dishes."

"Was she now?" he laughed. Looking down at Sanna, who was grinning innocently, he shook his head. "Learnin' how to blackmail people now? Who's been teaching you that o' all things? Mr. Nori?"

"What blackmail?" she asked, her brows furrowing.

Berez righted her, but didn't set her on the ground just yet. "Something you don't need t' know about, missy." He glanced back at Baylee. "She wasn't bein' any trouble, was she?"

Baylee shook her head with a smile. "None at all, I promise."

"Berez, play with me," Sanna pouted. "Am bored."

He gave her a pitying look. "Sorry, little one –I've got to get lunch started. Why don't you go see if Biriz wants to play?"

She shook her head, braids flying left and right. "He never play. Only want fight!"

"I'll take her," Baylee told Berez as he set his sister on the ground. "Maybe I can amuse her with a story or somethin' until l-"

Sanna started hopping in excitement. "Story! Wanna hear story!" she cried, clapping her hands.

Berez snorted. "Oh dear, I don't think she likes that idea at all…" he joked.

"Oh, not in the least," Baylee giggled. "Come along, little one. Let's go out t' the garden, alright?"

"Thanks, Baylee," Berez chuckled as the two females started to leave the kitchen. "I hope she doesn't ask you too many questions," he called after them, but it was too late –they were out in the garden.

Baylee hobbled her way along behind Sanna, who skipped ahead. "Why don't ya find us a nice mossy spot t' sit?" she suggested. "Somewhere nicely lit."

"Not hard," giggled Sanna. "Good place under big, green crystal. Just around corner!" She bolted some paces ahead only to stop nearly a large, glowing stalagmite. Dancing in place, she waiting for Baylee to catch up to her. "When can walk again?"

"Probably not for a few more weeks," Baylee answered. "It was a big injury I had."

"Uncle Bof say warg bite."

She nodded, catching up. "Aye, a warg tried to take a bite out o' me," she explained, "but I didn't taste good, so it spat me back out."

Sanna scrunched her nose up and scratched her fuzzy chin. "Because human. Humans icky tasting."

Baylee cocked her brow, amused. "Have you ever tasted a human?"

"Ew! No!" she giggled.

"Then how do you know we're icky tasting?" She cracked up as the little girl stared at her, baffled. "I'm teasin', little one. I've never tasted human –an' I don't plan on it, either."

She nodded affirmatively. "Me neither. Icky." Walking forward a ways, she plopped down atop a mound of glowing moss, waiting for Baylee to ease herself down as well. "Baylee?"

"Hmm?" Baylee did her best to hide a wince when her side twitched in protest.

Sanna tilted her head in a curious fashion as she watched the human sit and adjust her skirt to make sure everything was proper. "Are married to Uncle Bof?"

Even in the dim light, the darkening of her cheeks was evident. "No, little one, Uncle Bofur an' me aren't married," she answered.

She didn't seem pleased by her response. "Oh…but…kiss."

"Just because we kiss doesn't mean we're married," Baylee gently explained. "It means we're in love, though."

"Going to marry Uncle Bof?"

Baylee didn't really know how to respond to such a question; she also cursed the innocence of children. "I…I don't know, little one. We haven't really courted long enough t' know if we want t' marry each other." She shifted slightly and, before Sanna could question her further, she asked, "So what sort o' story do you want me to tell you?"

Her eyes brightened. "One with trolls!"

"With trolls?" she laughed. "Alright, alright…let me think. I know a fair few with those nasty things in 'em." She playfully tapped her chin as she thought, glad to be off the subject of marriage. Too many people were bringing that up with her of late; she didn't need a child wondering about her love life to top it off. "Hm. I think I know just the one. Have ya ever been told the story o' Thúnor?"

Sanna shook her head. "No."

"Well then, I'll have t' fix that, won't I?" She motioned for Sanna to sit in front of her and, when she had done so, she began to finger-comb the child's fiery hair.

'Long ago, when realm o' Eriador was still young, there was a large farming village near the eaves o' an ancient forest an' for many years, they lived in peace. The village was well known for their delicious drinks that they would serve once a year for their fall harvest. Its chief at the time, a man by the name o' Thúnor, was known t' be especially gracious an' would throw a large feast at the end o' every harvest so that his people could taste the fruits o' their labors.

One year, durin' a particularly bountiful harvest, trouble arose. On the eve o' the feast, a troll came out o' the forest an' demanded t' speak with Thúnor. The people, fearing that the troll would eat them should they disobey, brought him before their chief. ('Not turn stone?' 'Guess it was nighttime!')

"What business does a troll have in my village?" asked Thúnor. (Sanna giggled at Baylee's 'man voice'.)

"Every year, you hold a bloody great feast," said the troll. "I can smell the food that is made from my cave an' it makes my stomach growl, for I eat only squeaky birds an' bony rats. I can smell the beer flowin' an' it makes my mouth water, for I drink only dirty water an' rancid ale. I can hear the singing o' the people an' it makes my ears ring, for I listen only t' the screams o' terror an' the cries o' pain."

"So what reason have you t' be in my village?" repeated Thúnor, for he knew that trolls were slow an' dull-witted.

"I want t' attend your harvest feast!" demanded the troll.

Thúnor knew that a feast amongst humans was no place for a human-eating troll, let alone a human-eating troll who had ringing ears an' an aching head. "That is not possible, for you are a troll an' not only do terrify my people, but you would eat them the moment I turned my back," he told the troll.

"Then I would have you bring me a drink so delicious an' so strong, that it would let me sleep through the feast so that my ears will not ring an' my head will not ache!" roared the troll.

"And if I cannot do that?" Thúnor asked.

"I will come t' your feast an' devour your village before you so that you may watch them suffer," the troll threatened. "In two night's time, you will bring me that drink ere you start your feast so that I will not suffer."

Before Thúnor could respond, the troll turned an' left the king in his hall. Thúnor was a master at the art o' brewing, so he knew there was no drink known t' man or elf that was potent enough t' render a troll unconscious. As he paced in his hall, he pondered over the possibility o' poisoning the drink –but trolls were immune t' most potions an' poisons.

Knowing that this was not a problem he could solve on his own, Thúnor left his hall an' went t' the edge o' the village. It was here, in a small, lonely home, that the village's wise-woman lived with her pet bull an' her pet ram.

('Rams mean…butt people. Rude animals…')

"What brings you, o chief Thúnor, t' my home so late at night an' with so grim a face?" asked the wise-woman.

"A troll has made a threat upon our beloved village," he told her, "an' unless I make for him a brew so delicious an' so strong that he is left in a slumber durin' our feast, he will eat us all."

The wise-woman shook her head, not liking this news. "There is no such brew made by humans or by elves that can make a troll drunk."

"Then I need a way t' make it stronger than any ale or beer that I can brew. Please, o wise-woman, tell me that there is a way that this can be done."

For many long minutes, the wise-woman was silent. She thought an' she thought, going through all the potions an' chants an' spells that she knew, but nothing she could think o' would work t' put a troll t' sleep. There was, however, a way t' enhance a brew's potency.

"You must take a horn from my goat an' a horn from my bull," she ordered Thúnor. "Boil the ram's horn for a day an' a night in pure, clean water. Boil the bull's horn for a day an' a night in the strongest ale you have. Take heed! When you put the horns in their cauldrons, you must not any liquid at all, no matter how empty the pots may seem!

"When a day an' a night have passed, rub the inside o' the ram's horn with the roots o' fresh yarrow an' the inside o' the bull's horn with the petals o' a blackened rose. When you have done this, slide the bull's horn into the ram's horn an' put them into the red coals o' a fire for half a day. This you may replenish as needed."

"Won't the horns burn if left in the fire that long?" asked Thúnor.

The wise-woman shook her head. "When you pull them from the fire, they will have fused into a drinking vessel that becomes whosoever holds it. Should the drinker be a good man, he will consume a drink that tastes delightful an' refreshes his spirit. Should the drinker be a bad man, he will consume a drink that tastes foul an' dampens his spirit. If he proves t' be o' dark enough heart, the drink may even bring harm upon him."

Thanking the wise-woman, Thúnor went into her yard an' took a horn from her ram an' a horn from her bull. He returned t' his hall, where, when the sun rose, he boiled the horns in water an' in ale. Many times he was tempted t' refill the cauldrons, but the liquid within them never disappeared entirely until the sun rose the next morning, when there was nothing but the horns in the pots.

He then rubbed the inside o' the ram's horn with yarrow root an' the bull's horn with the petals o' a blackened rose. An' then, taking the bull's horn, he made t' put it inside o' the ram's horn. At first, he believed the deed impossible –the bull's horn was long an' straight while the ram's horn was short an' curled in on itself. But lo! Softened by their long boiling, the two horns merged into one another almost perfectly. Into the red coals o' a fire he set the fused horns an' he tended t' this fire for half a day, forsaking his meals so that he could make-

Baylee laughed as the girl spun around and stared at her in horror. "Not eat meal!?"

"Nope."

"Not right in head!"

Into the red coals o' a fire he set the fused horns an' he tended t' this for half a day, forsaking his meals so that he could make sure that no one disturbed them until the time was right.

When it at last came t' be time for him t' present his strongest ale t' the troll, he brought with him one o' his knights, for he knew that if the horn's magic did not work, he would be forced t' fight the troll t' death.

"Have you brought me the brew that will make me sleep through your noisy feast?" demanded the troll, his big arms cross over his big chest.

"I have," replied Thúnor an' he held aloft the drinking horn full o' ale. "Here is your ale –it is one o' my oldest an' strongest vintages an' certainly my most delicious."

But the troll did not take it. "I want proof that this ale is as tasty as you claim. Have your knight take a drink so that I may know if I have been fooled or not!"

Thúnor gave a nod t' his knight an' his night took from him the horn. Taking a sip from the horn, the knight's eyes opened wide –it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. Licking the foam from his mustache, he held the horn t' the troll.

"This is the most delicious drink that I have ever tasted," he told the troll, "and I have tasted ales from the northern lands an' from the southern lands. None can compare t' what this horn now holds!"

The troll needed no second opinion. Swiping the horn from the man, he downed the ale in just two gulps ('Could do it in one!' 'I'm sure you could.'). He let out a howl o' anguish, for the drink was not delicious, but fouler than the foulest water an' more rancid than the most rancid ale he had ever drunk.

"You wretched, lying man!" he retched, his hands over his great belly. He began t' swoon, his vision swirling an' his head spinning. Over onto the ground he toppled an', with that, the troll moved no more.

Thúnor took back the drinking horn an' he an' his knight returned t' the village, where they feasted t' celebrate a bountiful harvest an' the death o' the troll. It is said that the horn became an heirloom t' Thúnor's family, passed down through the generations until the west became unsettled once more.

Sanna clapped happily. "Thank you for story, Baylee," she chirped. Turning around, she gave the human a big hug, being careful to not accidentally knee her in the side or elbow her in the face (which she had a habit of doing when flinging herself onto people). "Was good story."

"I'm glad you liked it, little one," she told her. She sniffed the air, able to smell roasting meat. "It smells like Berez should have lunch ready soon. Why don't ya go check on him an' see if he needs help settin' the table?"

She nodded quickly. "Alright! Are coming?"

"In a little bit. You go ahead." She watched as Sanna skipped off before letting out a quiet sigh and flopping backwards. Rubbing her hip, she let out a quiet curse; it had started to ache in the middle of the story thanks to the uneven ground she sat on.

"You alright, âzying?"

Tilting her head up, she sat Bofur walking down the path, a basket of freshly picked mushrooms tucked under his arm. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his hat was missing; Baylee could also just barely make out some dirt streaked across his face.

"I'm fine," she replied. "My side's just protestin' a wee bit. I guess I sat too long while tellin' Sanna a story."

Bofur crouched down and, as she started to sit up, stole a kiss from her. He smelled of a mix of freshly turned earth and cherry tobacco. "Sorry t' hear that," he told her, kissing her cheek. "Anythin' I can do t' help you feel better?"

A cheeky grin came to her lips as she draped her arms around his neck. "A few more kisses wouldn't hurt," she teased, rubbing her nose against his.

Setting his basket down, Bofur complied and gave her a second kiss. He snaked his arms around her waist, drawing her closer to him. She quietly giggled against his lips when he almost lost his balance and fell forward onto his knees.

"Whoops," he chuckled. Scooping her up, he brought her onto his lap and lightly nuzzled his nose into her cheek. "So ya told Sanna a story, eh?"

"Mhm." She nestled her head in the crook of his neck, her eyes closing. "She was bored without Buruz an' Grid around t' amuse her, so I thought I'd take her off o' Berez's hands for a wee bit."

Kissing the top of her head, he let out a quiet, content sigh. "Those three have taken quite a likin' to ya…Sanna especially. I'm sure she's going t' be quite sad when you an' Lovisa have t' go back t' Dale."

"I'll miss her, too," she admitted, "but I'll be sure to visit. As for Lovisa…Well, I don't think she'll be goin' anywhere if Bifur's not there."

His brow rose. "Then I'm not the only one who notices how they've taken a shine t' one another?"

She shook her head. "Oh, no. Gerdi an' I were just discussin' them the other day an', when papa was here, he told me he was positive tha' they'd be married by spring. It's all too obvious tha' Bifur's in love with her an' vice versa." She lightly toyed with the end of one of his braids. "They'd be cute together; Lovisa deserves a family o' her own. Valar know she'd be a wonderful mother."

Bofur nodded in agreement. "Aye, an' Bifur would be just as good o' a father. After all, he was suddenly forced t' raise me an' Bombur an' we turned out just fine. A bit on the rough side at times, but we're good enough dwarrows."

Kissing his cheek, Baylee smiled. "If by 'rough' ya mean 'cuddly', then aye, you're right," she lightly teased.

He grinned broadly. "Cuddly, eh? Clearly ya don't know me well enough then, âzying." He placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek, bringing about a fit of laughter.

Wiping the bit of spittle from her cheek, she looked at him. "What does 'âzying' mean?" she asked, head cocked.

"Flower o' my heart," he answered, reaching a hand up and brushing some hair out of her face. "It was the only thing I could think o' that suits ya."

Her cheeks reddened again. "An' here I can only come up with 'love' for you," she murmured, though she wore a tender smile.

He gave her a third kiss, his hand cupping her face and his thumb stroking the freckled skin. "I'm fine with that," he breathed against her lips. He dared to lightly nip her lower lip, unknowingly sending a shiver down her spine. Kissing it 'better', his other hand began to lightly stroke the small of her back.

Snaking her arms around his neck, Baylee slid her fingers into his hair and gently gripped the thick locks. A soft groan left her mouth as she held him against her, having no intention of letting him pull away from the kiss. She copied him and nipped his lower lip, but instead of kissing it better, she timidly flicked her tongue against the 'wound'. Bofur didn't recoil like she had expected him to; instead, he grinned and ran his tongue against her lips as well.

The sun hung low in the western sky as Bifur was building a fire. Having dug a medium-sized hole in the ground, he piled dry twigs, moss, and long-browned grass in the bottom of it before putting larger sticks around it like a tower. He pulled out his tinderbox and, freeing the chunk of flint from within, started to strike it against the steal to make sparks fall onto a bit of reserved moss.

Behind him, Lovisa was tying her horse and Bifur's pony to a tree, her eyes darting about. There weren't many dangerous creatures in the northern part of Mirkwood Forest, but that didn't stop her from being cautious; wolves and bears roamed about and they most certainly were not afraid of a dwarf and a half dwarf. Not to mention, swarms of bats would occasionally fly out of the forest so that they could do their nocturnal hunting.

"So, did you want to start tracking tonight?" Bifur asked, glancing up at her. Some of his sparks caught in the moss and he gently blew on them, urging them to become minute embers. "Or would you rather wait until tomorrow?"

She pulled a bit of jerky from her saddlebags and sat down across from him. 'Tonight,' she replied. 'Not want risk losing good game.'

He nodded in agreement as he blew on the embers again. He gently lowered the moss into the bottom of the pit, fanning it with his free hand. A triumphant grin spread across his lips as he watched tiny flames beginning to dance. Soon, he had quite a pleasant fire going.

"Good idea," he finally replied. "Look around for a few hours and then come back before midnight?" He glanced up at her as he brushed some dirt from the end of his beard.

'Aye. Should find something. Is good time for boar hunting.' She tore the piece of jerky in half and offered the large part to Bifur.

He accepted the offer and leaned back on his haunches. "I'm sure we'll find a good one for Bombur an' Gerdi."

At that, Lovisa smirked. 'Of course will find good one! Am not called White Huntress for no reason.'

Bifur couldn't help but laugh. "You're really called that?"

She nodded, wearing a proud smile. 'Have hunted lands for many, many years.'

"I can believe it," he smiled. "After all, you're the one who did most o' the tracking on the way t' Rhûn."

At that, she sighed. 'Hardest trail have ever followed. Hope never do that again.'

"I'm sure you won't," he assured her. "Everyone's good an' safe now."

She didn't seem entirely too convinced by his words, but managed a smile regardless. It wasn't because she didn't believe him –it was simply because she had known the Braddock family far longer than he and knew just how much trouble they could get into. Of course, the amount of mischief they could come up with had lessened over the years –mostly thanks to the war dampening their adventurous spirit.

'Know…Warren was hunter once,' she told him after a little while.

"Is that so? He doesn't really seem the type."

Lovisa nodded, popping the last bit of jerky into her mouth. 'Before came to Lake Town, lived east of Misty Mountains. Was hunter there. Much skinnier then! Less beard, too.' She chuckled and shook her head. 'Was so long ago.'

He cocked his head. "How long? Warren can't be more than forty-five, after all."

There was a knowing twinkle in her eye. 'Has been in Lake Town since I thirty-five. Am eighty seven.'

Bifur quickly did the math, having to use his fingers just a bit. "Fifty-two years!?" he gawked when he had figured it out. Lovisa nodded. "How in Mahal's name can he be that old? Is he part elf or somethin'?"

She shook her head and shrugged. 'Don't know. If he live that long, Baylee, Will live long, too.'

"Well, I guess that's good on Bofur's part –but if they do end up with long lifespans, I pity Adela. She'll have t' watch her love stay young while she grows older an' older."

Lovisa gave him a sorrowful smile. 'Know that well. Mother was human. Father never stopped loving her; was always his jewel.'

"Love does have a habit of makin' people forget about appearances," he chuckled. He glanced over at her, finding her eyes fixed on the fire; the mournful smile was still on her lips. Bifur watched as a single tear slowly trickled its way down the curve of her cheek. He began to lean over with the intention of wiping it away, but twigs broke in the distance. His brows furrowing, he turned his head as dried leaves crunched and crackled underfoot of something heavy.

Lovisa rose up slightly and crawled to the base of the nearest tree. She peered in the direction of the rustling and narrowed her eyes, trying to make out what sort of creature was making the noise. Through the dim light, she could only make out its silhouette –but it was a very distinctive shape.

'Boar!' she signed, a grin on her lips.

'How big?' Bifur signed back, not wanting to disturb the creature, even if it was some distance away. He crawled over to their saddlebags, grabbing their hunting weapons.

For a moment, she signed nothing as she tried to judge the creature's size. 'Not tell,' she finally signed as Bifur moved beside her. 'Too far away.' Taking her quiver and bow from him, she strapped the former to her back, making sure to pull the belt tight across her chest. Doing this pressed her right breast down, making it easier for her to aim the bow. She also drew an arrow, knock it.

Beside her, Bifur gripped his spear. Without a word, he started to stalk forward, doing his best to keep to the darker shadows beneath the trees. He also made sure to stay behind the trunks of the trees, knowing that they would give him cover should the boar charge at him.

Lovisa followed after him, though she stood upright and kept her movements slow. She was especially careful of how she stepped; with every stride, she slowly eased her weight onto her foot so that she would make the least amount of noise possible.

'If we managed to get a boar tonight,' she thought, 'it'll be one of my fastest hunts yet…Maybe we could even get some elk and pheasant to make it a true feast.'

Minutes later, she was crouching behind a holly bush, the boar no more than ten feet from her. Where Bifur had gotten to, she didn't know; with their lack of verbal communication and attention focused almost solely on the boar, they had gone separate directions. Gingerly, she pushed back a bit of the bush only to silently gasp: The boar was enormous. He was almost as tall as her –being up to her chin- and had thick, sharp tusks nearly a span and a half in length.

The boar didn't notice her. Instead, he grunted quietly as it used its nose to forage for roots and nuts in the earth of the forest floor. He used one of his great hooves to break through harder dirt and break up some of the roots before gobbling them down.

Ever so slowly, she raised her bow and took aim at its throat. It was a hard shot; the boar had his snout pressed into the ground and kept moving about, which hid his neck from view every few seconds. After what seemed like ages, the boar turned, allowing her a decent view. She was just about to release the arrow when the boar let out an ear-piercing bellow of pain.

The boar suddenly spun around. Lovisa watched in horror as Bifur was flung through the air like a sack of flour, landing some yards away. He had managed to bury his spear deep in the animal's side, but despite the mortal blow, the boar was still able to put up quite a fight.

She let out a hoarse cry and stood up, firing an arrow into the boar's hide, hoping to distract him. The boar, however, didn't care about the arrow: His sight was set on the dwarf in front of him, who was only just starting to stir. He let out another thunderous bellow and lowered its head, wanting to kill the creature that had mortally wounded it.

Bifur quietly cursed and shook his head as he came to; he could feel blood trickling down his forehead. As he started to push himself up, he glanced up only to gasp in horror: The boar was charging at him. There wasn't enough time for him to roll out of the way. He was staring death in the face.

There was a flurry of buckskin and Lovisa was suddenly in front of him. He couldn't see the wild fury on her features as the boar slammed into her, but he could see the dirt being forced out of the way as soles of her boots dug into the earth. Blood cascaded like a waterfall from the boar's head and throat as Lovisa dragged her knife through its flesh, slicing it wide open. With a loud grunt, she grabbed hold of both tusks and wrenched the creature onto its side.

All this had happened just inches from where Bifur lay.

Bifur stared at her in complete and utter awe.

"H-how in M-Mahal's name…?" he stammered.

She didn't answer him at first. Going to Bifur's spear, she yanked it out of layers of flesh, muscle, and bone, not even caring about the disgusting squelching noise it made. She gave it a quick flick, most of the blood siphoning off of it thanks to the small channels carved into the metal, and offered Bifur a hand up. Taking her hand, Bifur shakily got to his feet.

'Are alright?' she signed, the worry still on her features.

He nodded. "I think so…just a couple of scratches. You?"

Lovisa's lower lip wobbled slightly before she grabbed him by the neck of his tunic and pulled him onto his tiptoes, kissing him deeply. Bifur's eyes shot open and he froze, unsure of how to respond to such a sudden act of affection. He thought for sure she would be upset that he didn't kiss her in return –tears were beginning to pour from her eyes- but he soon found that that wasn't the case.

'Don't ever scare like that again!' she scolded when she pulled back. A hoarse sob left her throat. 'Ever! Thought were going to die!'

"I promise," he gently told her, managing a reassuring smile.

She leaned down and kissed him a second time –this time, he kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her waist. The second kiss led to a third and that to a fourth…then a fifth…