A/N: Sorry about how long this chapter took to get out. I had most of it finished a couple of weeks ago, but then...Well, let's just say to a combination of some hate on tumblr, a busy life, and general lack of good feelings on my part, I didn't get this done until this morning. Anyway. This chapter is something like 15 pages long, so I hope that makes up for the lateness. Hope you guys enjoy~
Chapter Thirty-Four
When Baylee awoke, she found that someone had moved her to her bed. Looking out her window, she judged it to early morning; the sun was just barely in the sky. For a moment, she thought that it had all been a bad dream, but as she looked around her room and found her tea still sitting on the floor by her door, she bit her tongue; it had all been real. She slid out of bed, finding herself still in yesterday's clothes, and shivered as the cool air met her warm skin.
'This is all just a mess,' she thought, going to her washbasin. 'I can't believe Mannus wanted my hand or Thúnor's horn!' Splashing cold water onto her face, she shivered again and cursed quietly under her breath. 'Where in Middle Earth am I even going to start?! I haven't the slightest idea about where Thúnor lived, let alone how to go about getting that horn of his…'
Giving her face a second splash, she turned away from the basin and began changing her clothes. 'I know he lived west of the Misty Mountains; the tale said he lived near a forest and the only forests this side of the mountains are dangerous to everyone but elves. Maybe he lived near the Shire?'
She left her room, finger-combing her hair as she walked. As she got nearer to the door, her brow rose; there was quite a bit of noise coming from the common room. Wondering if a fight had broken out, she quickened her pace and hurried down the hall only to receive a pleasant surprise.
The common room was packed.
Every table was full and the benches near the door had to be brought to the bar so that people could eat there. Wenna, Lovisa, and Peter were hurrying about, their arms filled by trays laden with food. Even more to Baylee's surprise was the sight of Bard, Dori, and Ori also running around with trays of food. In all the hustle and bustle, she went unnoticed by most, though Dori happened to pass by and, spotting her, gave her a sympathetic smile.
"Good morning, Miss Baylee!" he chirped.
"D-Dori, what's going on?" she asked, her eyes wide as she looked around. From what she could see, even the two private dining rooms had been filled with patrons.
He chuckled, putting his hands on his hips. "It seems half of Dale heard about your family's predicament and they came to show their support," he explained.
"But…we didn't…No one said…" She swallowed hard, unsure whether she should laugh or cry.
A small twinkle came to his eye as he glanced across the room at Bard, who was trying to pair up plates of food to those who had ordered them. "Well, let's just say your family's got friends in high places. Now, you should go and get yourself some breakfast –though I warn you! The kitchen's a bit…crowded." Patting her shoulder, he went off to go see how the folk in the private dining rooms were faring.
Rubbing the back of her neck, Baylee headed towards the kitchen. Poking her head in, she quickly pulled it back out and leaned against the wall, her hand covering her mouth. After taking a moment to regain her composure, she took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen. Galiene was manning the stove while Adela was pulling loaf after loaf of bread from the oven. Gawen was butchering cuts of meat to be used during lunch and dinner while, standing on stools across the kitchen, Berez and Bombur (of all people!) were whisking away at various mystery dishes. Baraz and Biriz were there, too, making quick work of washing a stack of dishes.
Baylee didn't notice the tears beginning to stream down her cheeks, nor did she care much when Wenna and Bard came bursting into the kitchen, each toting a tray absolutely filled with dirtied dishes, and knocked into her. Wenna didn't seem to notice her as she hurried to the sink, but Bard reached out and grabbed her before she could fall.
"How are you doing?" he asked, giving her a look that was a mix of concern and joy.
"…Half o' Dale's crammed into our inn," she spluttered. "Why is half o' Dale crammed into our inn?"
He gave her an amused smile. "The Full Tankard has many fans; they're here t' show support for your family. After all, word does spread rather quickly…"
She motioned to Bombur, Baraz, Berez, and Biriz. "How did they hear!? They were in Erebor! News doesn't travel that fast unless someone sent a rider, shoutin' through the streets!" She heard one of them –probably Baraz- laugh at her statement.
Bard set his hand on her shoulder. "You have more important things to think about," he told her, his tone both kind and serious. "Things that aren't why you suddenly have an increase o' help. After ya eat breakfast, you need t' visit the archives and find out any information you can about Thúnor from them."
At that Baylee, balked. "Th-the archives?" she repeated.
He nodded. "There are still plenty of old texts left from when Dale was first built," he explained. "You may find something there, even if it's just a small clue."
She nervously bit her tongue and nodded. "Alright," she murmured. She knew well enough the archives were one of the few buildings that hadn't been destroyed by Smaug when he ravaged Dale and Erebor –but only because it was located underground, beneath Bard's palace.
Before she knew it, she was tucked away a corner of the kitchen –there wasn't the slightest bit of room left for her in the common room- with a bowl of porridge and some biscuits. It was hard for her to eat it all, since she didn't have much of an appetite, but with Galiene and Bombur constantly telling her to eat up, she managed to finish every last crumb. When she was done, she tossed her dishes over to Biriz, who narrowly avoided getting a face full of soap suds as Baraz dunked a rather large pot.
It was as she was walking to the palace, bundled up in a heavy cloak with the hood drawn up for some privacy, that the shock of that morning finally started to wear off. A heavy sigh left her mouth and she pulled the cloak closer around her small frame, her gaze drifting down to the ground.
'I hope there's something about Thúnor in the archives,' she thought, biting her tongue. 'I know he was a real person and all, but…who's to say that the story of his drinking horn is true?'
She suddenly yelped as someone grabbed her arm and, spinning around, she reached for her dagger. It remained sheathed, however, when she found Bofur standing behind her, looking all too concerned. He was wrapped up in his heavy brown coat and the flaps of his hat were, for once, drawn down around his ears and cheeks.
"I'm sorry for scarin' you, love," he told her, his tone apologetic, "I thought ya heard me, though; I called out for you three times." He lightly set his hand on her arm a second time and gave it a small squeeze.
Baylee rubbed the back of her neck and wearily smiled at him. "I'm sorry. I was lost in my thoughts." Leaning over, she kissed the tip of his nose. "What're ya doin' out on a cold day like today?"
"I was goin' to go t' the Tankard t' check on you," he admitted. "I went there last night t' see how you were doin' but I found ya asleep by your door."
Her cheeks turned red. "Ah, so you were the one who put me t' bed." He nodded. "Thank you. I don't suppose sleepin' on the floor would have been very warm or comfortable."
Reaching under her cloak, Bofur found her hand and lightly held it. "How're you doing?" he quietly asked as they started to walk. "Are ya alright?"
Another sigh left her mouth. "No, I'm not," she softly admitted, "an' I don't think I will be. Not until Papa an' Will are out o' jail."
Bofur nodded in understanding. "When Bard told me the news, I wanted t' go out an' punch the son o' a wench myself," he told her. "Almost did, too, but then I started thinkin' about how the inn would be doin' an' how shorthanded things would be there for a while. Ended up goin' an' getting' Bombur an' some o' my nephews instead –though, I think you may have already noticed that." He smiled tiredly as she kissed his cheek.
"Half o' Dale is at the inn right now, so their help was most definitely needed."
His eyes lit up. "What? What d'ya mean, half o' Dale's at the inn?"
"It's beyond capacity right now," she chuckled. "Apparently, there's a lot o' folk wanting to show us their support. It's a nice slap in the face t' Mannus, too. I bet he thought this would ruin us…"
A sigh of relief left his mouth. "Good! I thought ya had meant they were angry at you or somethin'. I'm glad that's not the case." As they rounded a corner, he looked up at the palace at the top of the hill. "Aye! Your inn should always be packed. Good food, good drink…what's not t' like? I mean, I even hear the owner's daughter is quite the beauty." He gave her a playful wink, more than a little happy to hear her laugh.
Kissing his cheek again, she also lightly nuzzled him. "Strange, because I hear she's a wreck right now," she chuckled.
"Wreck or not, I'm here for her." Pulling her close, he wrapped his arm around her waist. "So why're you goin' to the palace?"
"I need t' dig through the archives," she sighed. "See if I can find anything on Thúnor."
His brow rose. "Thúnor? Who's he?"
"He's a king from the ancient days," she replied. "That's 'bout all I know 'bout him, save for the story o' him an' a troll."
"Oh? He get eaten?"
She shook her head. "No. He ended up defeatin' the troll thanks t' a magical drinkin' horn."
"Huh. Sounds interestin'. So, why do ya need to look him up if ya already know that much about him?"
As they approached the palace guards, Baylee was more than a little surprised when they ushered the two of them through without hesitation. Figuring that Bard had warned them of her coming, she lowered the hood of her cloak. "Because I need t' find his drinkin' horn t' get papa an' Will out o' prison."
Bofur gave her a confused look. "Wait, what? You said that it was a story, though."
"It's…it's a bit hard t' explain," she murmured. "Did Bard tell ya about what happened?"
"Aside from Mannus havin' your brother an' father arrested, no."
As they walked down at a hall, Baylee stopped a servant and asked how to get down to the archives. Knowing it was a confusing path, he started to lead them down the hall.
"Mannus had them arrested for theft," she quietly explained. "He claimed tha' Will stole his property –Adela- since he didn't ask for her hand in marriage or pay the bride price. He said he'd let 'em stay married if one o' two things happened: Either he gets Thúnor's horn or…or I marry him."
"He isn't getting' anywhere near you!" Bofur cried, startling both Baylee and the butler. "Sorry," he grumbled, "but it's true. That rat shouldn't even be thinkin' 'bout marrying you! The only one who's allowed t' think about marryin' you is me –not some…some…beardless, greed-filled, dirt bag!"
If she hadn't been so stressed, Baylee would have better noticed Bofur's words about marriage. As it was, however, she was thinking more about Mannus and his demands. "Which is why I need t' see if the story 'bout him an' his horn is real or just a story," she gently soothed him. "I wouldn't ever marry him –not even if it meant gettin' Papa an' Will out o' jail."
Despite her words, Bofur had the feeling that, if worse came to worst, she would go to such lengths to free her father and brother. He didn't voice this concern, though, and instead followed her and the butler down a flight of spiraling stairs. "So…what happens if it is just a story?" he asked.
She glanced at him from over her shoulder. "Then it's within Mannus' right t' take the Tankard from us."
Bard let out a weary sigh as he sat down. He, along with the others, had been busting their hindquarters making sure everyone who came in got plenty to eat and drink. Thankfully, after lunch had passed, things began to slow down due to people needing to do chores and tend to their families. Many, though, promised to come again at dinner. Regardless, he was thankful for the small respite.
Rubbing his face, he rested his chin in his hand and stirred his chicken stew slowly, watching as wisps of steam rose into the air. Across from him, Wenna was almost falling asleep in her food; it took Galiene lightly nudging her in the ribs to keep her awake. Peter and Gawen also sat at their table, though they seemed to have more energy than Wenna and Bard –and twice the appetites. They had already eaten two bowls of stew.
"So how bad do you think it'll be at dinner?" he asked, trying to strike up conversation. "The same amount of people or even more?"
"Oh, I'm hopin' less," Galiene sighed. "As much as I appreciate everyone's support, it was just…too much. I'm glad we had help, though." She smiled and glanced over at the table of dwarves, who seemed to still have excess amounts of energy. "Who knew that Baylee's friendship with 'em would turn out t' be a bigger blessin' than we thought?"
Peter nodded in agreement. "They're quick learners, that's for sure," he concurred. "And they're quick cooks."
"Ya should have seen how fast Bombur an' -Berez? I think it was Berez- butchered a whole pig!" Gawen chimed in. "An' it wasn't a small yearling, either –it was huge! An' they had it done in about ten minutes' time."
Bard smiled. "I'm glad t' hear that the help's been welcomed," he spoke. "I'll have to thank Bofur again for convincing them to come here."
"From the sounds o' it, it didn't take much convincin'," Galiene chuckled, stirring some pepper into her stew. "Bombur and his lads were apparently more than willing to help. Methinks the lads just wanted to get out of Erebor, though." Taking a bite of her stew, she let out a sigh of content and leaned back in her chair, slouching slightly. "This is some mighty tasty stew I make," she grinned.
"That it is," Bard laughed. "I'm glad you shared the recipe with your cousin; my girls love it when she makes the chicken stew." He, too, ate a bite of his stew before dipping a biscuit into the thick liquid. "Now if only they'd eat their vegetables when there's no stew around…"
Peter and Gawen snickered at the comment, but Wenna perked slightly. "That's when ya make a vegetable pie or sneak 'em into desserts," she told him, taking everyone by surprise.
Galiene cocked her brow and gave her an odd look. "What?"
Wenna nodded heartily. "Aye! It's what me mam does for my brothers. They refuse t' eat their vegetables, so she cuts them up real small and throws them into cakes or just makes a vegetable pot pie. Sometimes, she'll even sneak them into their breakfasts by throwin' them in with the potatoes or eggs. They don't even know they're eating vegetables!" She lightly shrugged and fished a bit of stew-soaked biscuit out of her bowl. "It worked for me, too, when I was little. I guess my family just doesn't like their veggies."
"I'll discuss it with Mallory then," Bard smiled. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind; thank-you for the suggestions, Wenna." He glanced over at the dwarf-filled table as they burst out in a round of laughter. "I wish I could have as much energy as they do right now."
"It certainly would be nice," Galiene smiled. She looked over at Gawen and Peter; Gawen was scraping the last bits of stew from his bowl with his finger while Peter was drinking the rest of his straight from the bowl. Her brow rose as she watched them. "Are the two o' you finally done eatin', or are you gettin' another batch?"
Gawen smiled cheekily. "I'm done," he told his aunt. "I was just going t' go take this to the washbasin." He blinked as Peter stood up, taking his bowl from him.
"I'll do it," he told him. "Does anyone need anythin' while I'm in there?"
Bard glanced up. "Are there any pies?" he asked. "Or cakes or anything sweet, really?"
"I think there's an apple pie," Galiene answered, scratching her nose. "We don't have much in the way o' desserts right now; Baylee an' Adela are normally in charge o' those. An' with Baylee off at the archives an' Adela visitin' Warren an' William…" She let out a heavy sigh as Peter walked off.
Wenna slouched back in her chair, staring at her soup. The small perk of enthusiasm she boasted just minutes ago had faded. "Bard…?"
"Hm?"
"D'ya think Baylee has a chance o' findin' the horn?" she asked, her voice quiet and unsure.
He was silent for a long moment, pondering over his answer as he stirred his stew. "I don't know, Wenna," he admitted. "I always thought Thúnor and his horn was just a story, but most stories come from some shred of truth."
"What happens if it doesn't exist? Mannus wanted either the horn or Baylee's hand…" Her frown grew. "An' if he doesn't get either o' those…he gets the inn, leavin' us jobless an' the Braddocks homeless. How can tha' be fair?"
He ran a hand through his hair, pushing aside any stray strands or locks. "I'm going to hold a council meeting in a few days to discuss this very subject," he told her. "This is probably the only time I'll wish that I had more power like the king of Rohan or the ancient kings of Gondor. As it is, I'm more like a governor who has to listen to the council for most things…"
Galiene nodded slowly. "I don't have a single doubt that Mannus bribed 'em," she declared. "There's no way all ten o' the council members would have agreed t' do this otherwise. I know well enough that none o' them had t' pay a bride price when they married their wives!"
Gawen scrunched his nose up. "Why should ya have t' pay for a bride in the first place? It doesn't make sense."
"In the old days," Bard sighed, "women were thought of as property –not living, breathing creatures. It was ingrained into a lot o' people's minds that men owned women an' that women were weak. Many people still think that, unfortunately, but times are changin'. No one's had to pay a bride price in at least a hundred years, save for those who are both wealthy an' greedy."
Shaking his head, the lad leaned back in his chair. "People in the old days were strange. O' course women are strong! They give birth, they haul around heavy baskets from the market, an' they have t' deal with all the whinin' we men do when we're sick!"
Galiene and Wenna both laughed. "Finally! A male admits that they're a total baby when sick!" Wenna cackled.
"Never thought I'd live t' see that happen," Galiene chuckled.
Bofur let out a quiet sigh as he flipped through the pages of an ancient book, his eyes scanning each page for any mentions of someone named Thúnor, a drinking horn, or a conflict with a troll. It had been at least four hours since they began their search, stopping only for a quick lunch or to use the privy. Out of the piles of books and scrolls around them, both he and Baylee had managed to find a total of three paragraphs about the ancient king.
He hated to admit it, but he felt like he was doing most of the searching. In the time it took him to finish skimming one book, Baylee had only managed to look through a quarter of a different tome. He scolded himself when he started to resent her slowness, having to tell himself that she was more than likely still exhausted from the previous day –on top of having an immense weight on her shoulders.
Letting out a sigh, he rubbed his face and closed his eyes for a moment, giving them a small rest. Staring at page after page of small, fine script for hours on end was beginning to give him a headache; the dusty air of the archives did little to relieve the growing pain. He heard some papers shuffling around and, opening one eye, watched as Baylee unfurled a scroll and started to read it.
Closing his eye again, he covered his mouth as he yawned. He was in the middle of stretching his arms and back when Baylee took him by surprise by throwing the scroll across the room, cursing at it before getting up and storming up the stairs. His jaw hanging slack, he stared at her retreating back in total surprise. Never before had he witnessed Baylee having such a reaction to something.
Bofur cautiously got to his feet and followed after her. When he caught up to her, he found her pacing on a balcony and cursing to herself under her breath. He noticed that she was also chewing on a bit of one of her braids. Standing in the doorway, Bofur wasn't entirely sure about what to do.
"Âzying?" he quietly asked after some minutes had passed. "Are…are ya alright, love? Ya gave me a bit o' a fright down there."
The braid fell from her mouth, though she didn't look up at him. "I can't do it anymore," she told him. "I can't keep pourin' through those scrolls an' books."
"Is it givin' ya a headache? I know I'm gettin' one. Maybe we should take a break for-"
"It's not a headache. It's…it's the damned words!"
His brow rose and he looked at her with confusion written all over his features. "The…words?"
"Aye, the words," she groaned. Finally standing still, she gave him a hopeless look. "They're too big! I don't know how the letters work together; I can figure it out for smaller words, but not the big, stupid ones. What in Manwë's name is a mage-is-tray-tea? Or what's a guh-way-th-low? I don't bloody well know!" Grabbing the braid again, she once more started to gnaw on the strands.
Suddenly, Bofur understood why she had taken so long to get through a scroll or book. He watched as she started to pace again and his confusion turned to gentle understanding. Going over to her, he stopped her and lightly clasped her shoulders.
"Ya didn't tell me you couldn't read, love," he softly told her.
Still, she did not look at him. "I can read…but only the small words. Once they start gettin' longer than ten letters, though, I get confused. I know my letters well enough, but…some o' those fancy words"
He gave her a reassuring smile. "There are plenty o' people in Middle Earth who can't read," he told her, "so you knowin' even that much is an accomplishment."
"But everyone else at the inn can read perfectly," she muttered. "Will has a lot o' books an' Galiene's constantly writin' down her recipes so Gawen can read 'em and learn 'em. Then there's me; everyone knows when I had t' write someone's name down in the ledger because I misspell people's names or whenever someone sends me a letter, I have t' have Papa or Will read it t' me…" A heavy sigh left her mouth and she hung her head in shame. "I'm an idiot when it comes t' readin'."
Bofur frowned, lifting her chin. "Now that's no way t' talk 'bout yourself, âzying," he lightly scolded. "You're a smart lass about plenty o' things in the world. Just because you're not good at readin' doesn't make you an idiot at it. Reading's a hard thing t' learn for anyone, so no one's goin' t' blame you for not recognizin' a few hard words." He lightly rubbed the tip of his nose against the tip of her nose, earning a small smile from the human.
"How do ya do that?" she asked, brushing her fingertips against his cheek.
He cocked his head. "Do what?"
"Always know just what t' say." She gave him a lingering kiss. "I was ready t' burn down that whole archive out o' frustration and there ya go, sayin' stuff that manages t' cheer me up."
A cheeky grin came to his features. "Don't know how I do it, but at least I didn't end up ramblin' on an' on about how amazin' a person you are. Though, if ya want me t' do that, I can. I can probably spend all day talkin' about ya, t' be honest. Not sure you'd appreciate hearin' my voice for that long, though –not many can. I don't blame 'em, though, I mean, I really need t' learn t' sh-" He was abruptly silenced as she kissed him.
"I have heard ya ramble on before," she chuckled when they parted. "An' right now happens to be one of those times."
An apologetic smile came to his lips. "Sorry, âzying."
She kissed the tip of his nose. "Don't be. It's cute –most o' the time. But, right now, we can't have ya rambling. Not unless it's about Thúnor. Did ya manage t' find anything else about him?"
He shook his head. "Not yet."
She sighed. "So, so far we only know that he was a real bloke an' that he lived somewhere in a place called Ee-need-wa-ith."
"Enedwaith," he gently corrected. "Ya were close, though."
Her cheeks turned pink. "Aye…in that place."
Bofur lightly rubbed her arms. "C'mon, let's go back down there an' see if we can find some sort o' map. We can narrow down the cities from there, eh? Since we know he lived near a forest."
"Good idea," Baylee sighed. "We'll worry 'bout the horn in a little while. After all, if we can't find anythin' on it, I'll have t' actually go to the place where he lived…"
Frowning, Bofur looked up at her. "What? Ya didn't say anythin' 'bout havin' t' travel!"
She sighed. "I swore t' Mahal that, if the horn exists, I'd give it t' Mannus. So if we find nothin' here, I have no choice but t' go t' wherever it is that he lived."
He nodded slowly before rubbing his beard. "Well, then, I'll just have t' come with you. Someone's get t' keep ya safe, after all."
"We'll see," she replied, bringing a look of concern to his features. "Let's just worry 'bout finding this Enedwaith place, aye?" Kissing his forehead, she wrapped her arm around his shoulders and guided him back into the palace. "Were there any turnovers leftover from lunch?"
"There're three, I think," he answered, his arm sliding around her waist.
"Good…I'm starvin'."
"Well, ya didn't each much o' your stew before givin' the rest to me."
"I wanted t' get back t' readin'. Or, at least, tryin' t' read." Tucking the spit-dampened braid over her shoulder, she let out a quiet sigh. "At least I'm good with the pictures –when there are pictures, that is."
He chuckled. "Aye, you're good at tellin' what those are. I would have never guessed that that dragon was a dragon an' not some deformed dog. It certainly looked like a dog."
"Well, it was near a pile o' gold. That, an' its wings were those green curls. Why they made a yellow dragon have green wings, I'll never know…"
As they descended the spiraling staircase into the archives once more, Bofur rested his head against Baylee's shoulder. After spending most of the night gathering parts of his family to come help out at the inn and then rushing back to Dale so that they would be there in time for the dinner rush, he had been left rather exhausted. It didn't help that he hadn't slept well, knowing that his lover and her family were going through such a crisis. As per usual, he was doing his best to liven everyone's moods –he had even brought over some toys for Folki that would help him better discover the many uses hands and feet could provide- but his jokes and songs had only helped so much.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he glanced at Baylee, able to see the dark circles under her eyes; she hadn't slept well, either, and probably wouldn't for some days to come. Her face revealed little else, but he knew, past her calm exterior, she had to be a raging storm of anger, sorrow, and confusion. Pulling her closer to him, he kissed her shoulder and lightly stroked her waist. He wished he could do more to help her, but that would involve either magically producing Thúnor's horn or…
'No,' he thought. 'As much as I hate Mannus, I can't kill him –not over this. Now, if he tried to actually hurt Baylee, Will, or Warren, I'd have an excuse but…killing him outright would just get me thrown in jail. That's not what anyone needs right now.' Rubbing the back of his neck, he started to shuffle through some of the scrolls they had set aside, knowing he had seen a map furled up in one of them. 'But if I can help by keeping her safe on this search for this damned horn, then that should be good enough, right? Maybe that'll help stop me from worrying too much…But what if the horn doesn't end up being real? Then we have to worry about Mannus taking the Tankard! That's a whole new set of problems right there.'
"Bofur?"
"Hm?" He looked up at Baylee as he was pulled from his thoughts. Her brow was raised as she stared at him.
"Are ya alright? I've been offerin' ya a bite o' this turnover for five minutes an' you've been ignorin' me."
"Sorry, love. I was thinkin'." He gave her a reassuring smile before leaning over and taking the offered bite.
"Thinking about what?" She watched as he grabbed a scroll and started to unfurl it. When it wasn't the scroll he wanted, he let it snap back into a cylinder before grabbing another one.
Unrolling this second one, he grinned slightly –it was the map he was looking for. "Thinking about how I'm goin' t' do my best t' help you an' your family out an' how I'm goin' t' protect ya from Mannus if he tries anythin' else." He knew the map had to be old: Forests covered parts of the world where he knew they no longer existed; the Shire was nowhere to be found; and Iron Hills were nameless, as they remained until the refugees from Smaug's initial attack came to them.
A warm smile came to her lips. "You sap." Leaning over, she kissed his cheek before helping him hold down the map's corners with some heavy books.
"Ah, but I'm your sap," he chuckled. "Now. Enedwaith…that's somewhere west o' the mountains…" He started to scour the map with his eyes, looking all over the western regions of Middle Earth.
"Here!" Baylee pointed to a section of the southwest where it was heavily forested. "Enedwaith. It's a small realm…"
"On paper, at least." He went and fetched one of the lanterns, bringing it over so they could better see the fine script labeling the cities and towns. "Well, there are a lot of cities an' towns," he frowned, "but the capital o' the area seems t' be Lond Daer."
Baylee leaned over, looking at the area he was pointing to. "That's really close to the sea," she murmured.
"My guess is that it's a harbor o' some sort. Probably pretty important, too. See this river? The Gwathló? It goes all the way up t' Rivendell!"
"Look here." She pointed at a fork in the river. "This part –the Gla…Glan…Glanduin?" Bofur nodded in approval, "the Glanduin goes up t' Moria. So, aye; it must've been an important place. It had t' supply elves an' dwarves!"
"Along with other humans." He tapped a city near the river's fork, labeled 'Tharbad'. "An' since we found out he was a real bloke –a real king- then he must've lived in this place. Kings live in important places, after all. An' it's the only one really near a forest. All the other cities an' towns are in open plains."
She nodded. "Makes sense," she agreed. "It's in Enedwaith, it's near a forest, an', accordin' t' this map, it was around during the time he was supposedly alive."
"How do ya figure that?" Bofur inquired, his brow rising.
Baylee pointed to the bottom right of the map, where it read 'Realms of the mid-second age'. "That's how," she told him with a small laugh, watching his cheeks turn pink.
"Ah. Well…I was figurin' it had t' be old because o' all o' these forests all over the place," he murmured.
She nodded. "Aye. When the Númenórians came here, they did kind o'…cut down all o' the trees. All because they wanted more an' more ships. Like they couldn't explore on foot or anythin'; nooo…they had t' sail everywhere."
Bofur cracked up as he heard her mini rant. "Âzying, ya do realize tha' your ancestors were Númenórian, aye?" he grinned. "An' that you grew up in a place where sailin' was commonplace?"
"O' course I do!" she smiled. "But that doesn't stop me from admittin' that the Númenórians were greedy as all get when it came t' makin' boats." She motioned to the map. "Look at all these forests, Bofur. Think o' all the deer an' birds an' elk that roamed through the lands back then! Not t' mention all the edible roots an' berries that had t' have flourished."
He chuckled again and lightly patted her back. "Don't worry, âzying. There may not be as many forests in the world, but there are still some. Mirkwood, Fangorn, an' not t' mention, plenty o' nameless forests in the shire an' around Ered Luin."
"And up north, in Forochel," she added. "Dori told me that there are a lot o' forests up there."
"Really? I knew he's been north once, but didn't think he had been that far." Moving the books off of the corners of the map, he started to roll it back up.
"What're you doing?"
Wrapping a leather cord around its center a few times, he tied it shut. "Well, we found out that Thúnor was a real person an' that he lived in a real place. After goin' through most o' this place, we haven't found out anythin' else. Safe t' say that this is the most important part o' our search for his horn so far. We'll need t' look at a modern map in order t' plot a course down there."
A tender smile softened her scarred features. "You're really comin' with me then?"
"O' course I am," he assured her. "I'd be a poor sort o' lover if I was t' just let ya go off on your lonesome. I mean, you're clearly a capable warrior an' all, but…after that last trip ya took…" Taking her hand, he gently placed a kiss on her knuckles. "I'm not lettin' that happen again."
Kissing his forehead, she wrapped her arms around him. "I know ya won't," she told him, nuzzling into him. She paused, a startled look coming to her face as her stomach rumbled loudly. "I…guess that turnover wasn't enough for my stomach."
He grinned cheekily. "You're startin' t' get a dwarvish appetite," he told her. "Keep it up an' you'll be as plump as me an' Bifur soon enough!"
Her cheeks flushed red and she lightly shoved his shoulder. "You shush. Our lunch was tiny is all."
Bofur still wore the cheeky grin, not believing her in the least.
Warren let out a quiet sigh, pulling a blanket closer about his shoulders. Despite the four fires burning along the hallway, the jail was still frightfully cold. Bard had told him that it was a constant battle for the jailors; it always seemed that the cells were too cold in the winter and too hot in the summer. Warren had always thought it was a battle that didn't need to be fought –criminals were sent to jail to be punished, after all, and the temperatures were part of that punishment. Now that he was sitting in a cell, trying to keep warm, he thought differently.
Looking across the hall, he could see Will slowly chewing on a piece of potato bread, his eyes examining the stone walls of his cell for seemingly the millionth time that day. He felt that Will was worse off in this situation: He was away from his young family, he couldn't work on anything to occupy his mind, and the cold was making his entire left arm, from shoulder to fingertip, ache. Warren, at least, could come up with ways to escape –not that he would try any of those plans.
"Ya doin' alright, lad?" he asked, his voice echoing through the still air.
"I'm fine. You?" Will glanced over at his father, a tired look on his face.
"Cold as all get, but alive. Why do ya keep starin' at the walls like that?"
Shrugging, Will leaned back and inspected the last half of his roll. "Gives me somethin' t' do, I guess. I keep thinkin' 'bout how I could make timber frames an' walls for these cells an' stuff the space between 'em and the walls with straw so the heat would stay in better."
Warren nodded in understanding. "Good idea. Too bad we don't have the means t' make it happen. Though, admittedly, I've been lookin' over the bars t' the cells an' thinking about how much I'd like t' heat 'em up in a toasty forge an' make a nice, big fireplace out o' 'em."
"Oh, that'd be nice…" Will agreed.
Chuckling, Warren tilted his head back and closed his eyes. "Think 'bout it…ya could even fry an egg on it when it got hot enough."
"An' some bacon an' sausage."
"Or a nice, big, juicy steak." He laughed as he heard Will grunt in agreement. "I could really go for one o' those 'bout right now. One o' Galiene's pepper-crusted ones."
Will laughed, shaking his head. "I'd rather a nice, heart bowl of her fish stew. It warms up your whole body, what with that strange, red pepper she uses. Give me a nice, big loaf o' Baylee's sourdough bread an' one o' Adela's fruit pies an' I'd be set for life."
Warren snorted. "Or at least set for one meal." He shifted again, trying to shrink himself down into a small ball so the blankets would better cover him.
"You two are makin' the rest o' us hungry," another prisoner, a young woman named Camilla, called from three cells away. She was in prison for three months on charges of petty theft. "An' doin' all that talkin' 'bout warm food ain't doin' much t' keep us warm."
"She's right," yet another prisoner, an older man in his early seventies, chuckled. His crime had been adultery and had three weeks left his sentence. "Unless we get the real thing, all the talk is just makin' us homesick."
"Maybe next time my wife comes in, I can convince her t' bring our cook an' a big pot o' stew with her," Will suggested. "After all, there are only four o' us in this place. It can't be that much trouble, right?"
"Bound t' be better than the gruel they feed us," the old man commented.
Camilla pressed her cheek against the bars of her cell and peered down the hallway. "Oh, come off it, Geoffrey –ol' Bard makes sure we get edible food. The porridge ain't bad at all! Better 'n the crap I'd use t' eat back home. Me mum couldn't cook worth shite."
"Nor can my wife!" Geoffrey cackled. "That's why I was always at her sister's!"
"Oh, cock's arse it was. The whole city knows 'bout your lil' fling, Geoff." Warren could see her cheeky grin from his spot; he had felt bad for her the second he saw her –she couldn't have been more than fifteen. "But I'd be mighty thankful if'n younger Mister Braddock here talked his wife into such a thing. Haven't had me a decent bowl o' stew since I got a bowl from the Henny Pig!"
"Hen and Pig," Geoffrey corrected with a sigh.
Warren quietly chuckled. "Ol' Matilda does make good venison stew," he agreed with Camilla, "but I'm quite partial t' Galiene's stews."
"From what I hear, she's got some o' the best grub in town," Camilla sighed. "Sometimes, I'd walk by just t' get a smell o' it. Made my mouth water, it did."
A small frown came to both Will and Warren's faces. They knew full well that not everyone in Dale had the means to eat a good, filling meal every day. What didn't help them feel any better about listening to Camilla lament about good food was that she was barely fifteen years old.
"What sort o' work did you do before you got put in here?" Warren asked after some minutes.
She shrugged, though he couldn't see it. "I'd run errands for the older folks in town. Didn't make me much, but I got a few pennies. An' them folks got food for the day. I even did a few errands for ol' Geoff here an' his lady. Well, his ex-lady."
Geoff grunted. "She always needed t' have the finest teas around, didn't she? An' then she went an' was frugal with everythin' else. Didn't let me get a new pair o' trousers 'til me old ones were worn bare in the knees an' bum!"
"If she was so unpleasant, then why did ya marry her in the first place?" Will asked, frowning. "Doesn't make much sense to me t' go off an' marry someone ya can't stand."
"She was the only one who'd have me!" he replied, his voice gruff. "I was a tanner back in my day an' after a hard day's work, I'd smell awful. Even after two baths, I'd have a smell 'bout me. She was the only woman who could put up with that." He shrugged and fell silent for a while, looking over his dirty fingernails. "Guess we used t' love one another," he continued, "in some fashion. But it died away after our munchkins grew up an' got families o' their own. Things fell apart after Smaug destroyed Lake Town an' we found out our two youngest had perished in the fire."
Will frowned again. "I'm sorry t' hear that, sir."
He watched as Geoffrey shrugged. "Heard somewhere that it's better t' have love an' lost than t' never have loved at all. Whoever said that is right." Shifting his position, he stretched his legs out. "So, how much work do you think it'd take t' convince the guards t' place those braziers in our cells with us instead o' out there in the hall?" he questioned, trying to change the subject.
"I could flash 'em an ankle, see if that does any good," Will joked. He was quite relieved when he heard a round of laughter come from the others.
"Don't forget t' add a pretty smile t' the ankle flashin'," Camilla giggled. "That'll surely convince 'em." She closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the wall. "Nah. They're nice enough lads. They'll help us when they come t' check on us again, I'm sure o' it."
Warren sighed, closing his eyes as well. "We can only hope…"
Dinner, unlike breakfast, was relatively quiet. There was still a large crowd of people filling the common room, but the inn wasn't overly packed and the patrons were more engrossed with the food than with conversation. Bard found this to be a major relief, as it didn't require him to sprint around tables while carrying heavy trays of food. Instead, he was manning the bar with Peter as well as tending to a plate of fried fish.
He was filling a mug with porter for someone when, from the corner of his eye, he saw the door to the inn open up. Turning fully towards the door, he watched as Baylee came in, a roll of parchment and her cloak clutched to her breast as she shook the snow off her shoulders.
"There you are!" he called, looking back at the mug in time to watch the foam begin to slip over the edge. Righting the mug, he lessened his pull on the tap until a perfectly round mound of beer foam balanced precariously atop the mug's rim before handing it to its owner. "I was wonderin' if you were going to spend the night in the archives or not."
She shivered as she walked over to the bar, hopping up on one of the tall stools. "Peter, some tea, please," she chattered, her whole body shaking. Laying the map on the table, she pushed it towards Bard as Peter hurried off. "An' almost did spend the night in the archives," she told the king, "but Bofur an' I realized we had got the most useful information hours ago."
"Bofur went with you? That's good; it wouldn't have been an easy task to do by yourself." He sat back down on his own stool, offering her his still-warm biscuit, but she declined. "So what did you find?" he questioned, unfurling the map.
"Thúnor was a real man," she informed, "an' he was a king o' some sort. He lived in Enedwaith." She tapped the city she and Bofur had found on the map. "We think he lived there, since it's the biggest city in the area; it'd make sense for a king t' live there."
He glanced up at her. "Anything about the horn?" he quietly asked.
She shook her head as she rubbed her arms, trying to will away the cold that still clung to her. "Nothing, which means-"
"-You're goin' to have to travel there to see if you can find anything." He frowned and straightened up. "I don't like the sound of that, Baylee, especially since winter's here."
"I know," she sighed, "but somethin' needs t' be done t' get my brother an' da' out of jail, Bard, an' I'm not about t' give up the Tankard to do that. Not when we worked so hard t' rebuild it." Peter returned with her tea and she thanked him, wrapping her hands around the cup. "How have things been around here?"
"Mighty busy until now," Peter answered. "Ya saw breakfast; it was crazy. Lunch was a little less so. Don't know why dinner's so mild, but it's relaxin'. I think all o' us managed t' run almost ten miles from how many people we served today."
She smiled. "That's good. If I weren't so tired, it'd be a bit more obvious how happy I am t' see that the city's on our side." She took a small sip from her tea, a shiver running down her back as the hot liquid warmed her from the inside out.
"Your family's got a lot of friends," Bard chuckled. He spun the map around, getting a better look at the Enedwaith area. "It's no surprise they flocked here when the word spread. This is a vast distance, Baylee –further than from here to Dorwinion."
"I'm sure I'll survive."
Peter frowned. "What? You're leavin'?"
"I have t' make preparations for it, but aye, eventually," she replied. She pointed at Lond Daer, showing him the spot. "That's where we think Thúnor lived. If we're right, there's got t' be something there that can help me get papa an' Will out o' jail."
He shook his head. "That's quite a ways…I don't like the idea of you goin' all that way just for probably nothin'. Who're you goin' t' take with you?"
"Bofur said he'd come with me an' I'm sure I can find at least one other person to come with. Maybe Dwalin." She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I only just found out two hours ago that I'd be havin' t' travel. My main concern right now is findin' someone t' put in temporary ownership o' the inn."
"Why's that?" Peter asked, filling himself a mug of porter.
"Because if she just up and leaves, it'll be all too easy for Mannus t' say she abandoned the inn," Bard answered. "And if she leaves the Tankard in Adela's custody, he can claim ownership o' it through her, since he'd get the inn should Baylee be unable t' pay his price."
Baylee nodded. "I was thinkin' Galiene, but she's already got so much on her plate…" With a sigh, she slid her arms forward on the bar, letting her chin come to a rest on the tabletop. "If only Auntie an' Uncle were here…I could easily leave it t' them an' not have t' worry. Then again, I've the feelin' Auntie would be tryin' t' force me t' stay here instead o' goin' t' Lond Daer."
"With good reason!" Peter reminded her. "It's winter an' things are dangerous out there. What if you come across a pack o' wolves? Or worse –wargs. I hear they roam the borders o' Rohan."
She cocked her brow. "There hasn't been a warg pack in Rohan for over a century," she told him. The door opened and she glanced over her shoulder, seeing Bifur holding it open for Bofur, who came in with a makeshift crutch under his arm and a bad limp in his left leg. Her eyes widening in horror, she rushed over to him. "Bofur, what in Mahal's name happened!?"
He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it faded when he mistakenly put his resting weight on his left leg. "Ice is a tricky thing," he told her. Baylee and Bifur helped him over to a chair, where he sat down. Baylee fetched him a second chair so he could prop his foot up.
"How, exactly, did ya hurt your leg?" Baylee demanded, being as gentle as possible as she tucked her folded cloak under his foot.
"I was goin' up the back steps t' the shop an' I slipped," he told her. "Landed hard on me leg. Don't think anything's broken, though." He cringed as he shifted. "Haven't been t' the doctor yet, though."
"You haven't been to the doctor!?" she cried, drawing some attention. Her cheeks flushing red, she raised a hand to her forehead. "Ya should have gone straight there, Bofur! What if somethin' is seriously hurt?"
Bofur gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm a dwarf, âzying. One small spill isn't goin' t' hurt me that bad. I'll just…have t' stay off o' my feet for a while."
She shook her head, sighing heavily. "Bofur…" She looked down as Bifur set his hand on her shoulder.
"Is true," he told her. "Dwarves tough. One fall not bad. Will see doctor morning. Promise."
Knowing that it would be useless to argue, she nodded in defeat. "Alright. But if I find out ya didn't get him t' a doctor, I'll…I'll…well, I don't know what I'll do, but I'll do somethin'!"
The cousins nodded. "Promise," Bifur repeated, crossing his arms over his heart –Iglishmêk for 'oath'. He walked off to get Bofur something to eat and drink while Baylee crouched down beside him.
"Are ya sure you're goin' t' be alright?" she asked him, worry written all over her features. "I mean, you're cringin' with every little movement."
Bofur nodded, kissing her forehead. "Stop frettin', love. I've had worse, I promise. The thing that hurts most is the bruise I've got growin' on my backside –it's why I'm wincin' so much. Hard t' get comfy when your bum is half black an' half blue," he chuckled.
Her brow rose. "Half your bum, eh? I thought you landed on your leg, not your bum?"
He shrugged before grinning mischievously at her. "Sure feels like half o' it's bruised. You could check later, if ya want. I could check your bum –not for bruises, though. Just t' look at it." Giving her a small wink, he stole a kiss from her reddening cheek.
"You are such a twit! Here ya are, lamed up for who knows how long, an' you're—" She suddenly stopped short, the humor leaving her face. "Ya won't be able t' come with me."
His brows furrowed. "What?"
"You won't be able t' come with me," she repeated. "Not if you're injured like that. Even if it's not a break you've got, it'll be some weeks before you can sit right, let alone walk right. Trust me, I know."
"When were you thinkin' o' leaving?"
"I don't know; sometime soon, hopefully."
Scratching his beard, he frowned. He knew she was right, but he couldn't let her go by herself, not after last time. He wanted to be at her side in case anything happened –especially if she ran into trouble.. "I know there's no way t' persuade ya t' wait until I'm healed up, but you need someone t' go with you."
"I know!" she sighed. "I know. I just…Ugh." She rubbed her face in frustration and cursed under her breath. "Alright. Tonight, I'm goin' t' focus on makin' sure you don't further hurt yourself, alright? Ya can even stay here; we're closer t' the doctor's, anyway, an' you can be sure t' get the proper care while here, since I know Bifur's been helpin' with the shoppin' an' tryin' t' make more toys for the shop. How does that sound?"
"Âzying, you don't need t' do that! You've already got so much on your plate, it's overflowing."
"I'd feel better, knowin' you were here," she told him. "I can keep an eye on ya an' you…you can keep me sane." She gave him an exhausted smile, her hand rising to stroke her cheek.
He cupped her face in his hand and returned the look. "If it helps ya from goin' barmy, fine. But I don't want t' be addin' t' your stress, love."
"It's too late for that, you ninny." She sighed, nuzzling into his palm. "You can stay in papa's room."
He slightly pouted. "Why not yours?"
She lightly poked his nose as she stood up. "Because we're not married an' Adela would hit us both with her wooden spoon," she informed. "I'm goin' t' go get his room ready for ya. I'll be back soon." As he grabbed her hand, she glanced back at him.
"Âzying, please," he gave her a pleading look, "don't wear yourself out. I know you're stressed an' you want t' help your family, but if ya do too much, it'll do more harm than good."
Leaning over, she pulled his hat off and kissed the top of his head. "I'll be fine." Replacing his hat, she patted his shoulder before walking off.
Bofur watched her, a worried frown on his face. 'No, you're not.'