Enjoy!
Kill Your Heroes
Chapter 2
Despite her body's exhaustion, Marigold found herself up before dawn. She sat watching the kettle boil, attempting to massage a crick out of her neck from her short doze on the kitchen table last night before Bilbo had forced her up and into a spare room. The parlor had been infested with dwarves, and not even a warm spot by the fire was worth another social faux paus.
She already missed her own kettle. The round shiny one that had a small dent in it that she had caused when she was six, trying to help Belba make tea. The imperfection always brought a smile to her face.
She jolted.
Since when did she consider anything of Belba's to be hers? That was not her kettle. Her kettle was ceramic and decorated with anatomically correct hearts given to her by her brothers when she was accepted into medical school.
She placed her head in her hands. What was wrong with her?
"Are you alright?"
Marigold started and nearly knocked the kettle over. She whipped around to find two of the younger dwarves of the company.
Blonde braids framed the face of the dwarf on the left, the rest of his hair flowing freely down his back. He had a small but full beard. The one on the right had few braids to speak of and only scruffy stubble decorating his jaw, but despite the fact that his hair was dark brown, the resemblance between the two was uncanny. They could be nothing but brothers.
Fili and Kili.
She sucked in a breath.
The brunette nudged the blonde. "Look, Fili, she is so taken with our looks, she is speechless."
"Or perhaps she is horrified by your beardless face."
"I did not see many beards on the hobbits we passed! Hobbit lasses may prefer an unobstructed, handsome face."
"Well, that counts you out then."
Marigold snorted.
Both brothers turned back to her grinning.
"The lady finds us amusing, does she?" Fili teased.
Marigold let a small smile slip onto her face. "You two remind me of my brothers," she told them fondly.
It was Fili's turn to nudge his brother. "Do you see that? The lady can actually smile. I had half believed her face would forever be frozen in the glare she gave Uncle."
She snorted. "I imagine his face has already frozen in that scowl."
"I fear it happened sometime between Kili's and I's fortieth birthdays. He seemed to do nothing but scold us. Though I fear we were not easy dwarflings."
"I can only imagine." She brushed some wayward curls out of her face, wincing as she brushed her cheek.
"That looks as if it hurts," Fili commented, the playfulness of before gone.
She ducked her head and turned back to the boiling kettle.
"It's nothing. For what I said, I deserved much worse."
Fili hummed. "You get that from your mother or father?"
She froze. "That's awful presumptuous of you," she warned, anger lifting her voice. Her disposition turned stony.
The kettle whistled. She moved it stiffly off the fire and onto the counter.
"Our mother was none too happy with our decision to leave, either."
"If Uncle had not stepped in, I imagine we would both be sporting black eyes," Kili added.
She whipped around, a fire in her eyes.
"And with damn good reason! If the quest fails, she's just lost all the family she has left in the world."
A flash of surprise crossed both of their faces. Fili opened his mouth to likely question how she could know that but closed it with a click.
Sensing what she was really getting at, Kili protested. "We are Uncle's heirs. This quest is our responsibility as much as it is his. It is our family's legacy," he insisted.
"You've never even been there! Both of you were born and raised in the Blue Mountains. That is your home."
Fili shook his head. "You do not understand. We have been told stories of Erebor as far back as either of us can remember."
"But Erebor is nothing like that anymore. It is a dead mountain full of shiny rocks. Is that something worth risking your lives for?"
"It is not about the gold. It is about our home," Kili countered.
Marigold's face darkened. "It has always been about the gold. Don't be naïve."
The three of them simply stared at one another at an impasse.
"Fili. Kili." Thorin's baritone interrupted the standoff. He strode heavily into the kitchen, his presence making the space feel too small. He was not as massive as some of the other dwarves or even Gandalf, but his air of importance expanded out from him, filling any space he occupied and leaving Marigold claustrophobic in Bilbo's small kitchen.
He studied them all with a critical eye.
"Go assist Balin with the supplies," he commanded finally.
Kili took off immediately, but Fili lingered, an indescribable look on his face as he studied Marigold.
"Fili," Thorin rumbled, a warning evident.
He broke his stare and followed his brother out. Marigold watched him go, heart plummeting. There would be no way to convince Fili and Kili to return home. The resolution in their eyes was too strong.
Thorin watched his nephews' retreating backs before turning his dark scowl to her. He marched forward, cornering her against the counter as she backpedaled to avoid him.
He glared down at her.
"Do not distract my nephews," he warned, his tone dangerous.
Marigold blinked. "Distract? How am I supposed to distract them?"
Thorin gave a pointed glance down.
It clicked.
"Oh. Oh. Gross!" She cried, crossing her arms over her chest. "Are you out of your mind?" she whispered furiously. "They remind me of my younger brothers! That's just foul on so many levels."
Thorin took a heavy step forward. "I do not care what you think of them, only what they think of you. You will keep your distance, understand?"
"We're going to be in the wilderness together for the next several months. Even if I wanted to humor you, it'd be ridiculous." She shouldered past him, so incredibly done with the conversation. "Regardless, I can promise you that's one thing you definitely don't need to worry about."
She withheld one last shudder as she marched out the kitchen.
She shouldered her pack and followed the herd of dwarves out of the hobbit hole and into the garden. They ambled about, stuffing packs and securing equipment to the saddles of a group of ponies.
None spoke to her. In fact, a great many seemed to pretend she didn't exist.
A spark of disappointment lit in her chest. She promptly stomped it out. Loneliness had been her constant companion the last thirty years. One more year wouldn't make a difference. To be honest, the less she interacted with them the better. She needed to change as little as possible.
She gazed around and counted heads. She had yet to see Bilbo, but she wasn't too concerned. He would sign the contract and join them on the road. Her presence would likely guarantee it'd be sooner rather than later.
A throat cleared behind her. She spun and half-tumbled off the path onto a bed of snapdragons.
Thorin scoffed and sent her a derisive glance as he stalked by.
His acknowledgement seemed to break the invisibility spell as Balin suddenly greeted her. "Fine morning, Miss Bolger. I hope you slept well."
She gave him a hesitant smile. "Same to you, Master Balin. I slept as well as anyone can in a strange bed, though I have no room to complain as I at least had one."
Most of the dwarves had spent the night sleeping on the armchairs, couches, and carpets of Bag End.
"Aye, well us dwarves are not bothered by such things. We're made to weather quite a bit more than a hard bed."
She raised a brow. "Not all of you," she challenged, sending a meaningful glance at a certain blue-clad back. She had not failed to notice that Thorin had taken Bilbo's only other spare room.
Balin's grin dropped, and he cleared his throat to retrieve her attention. "On to matters of finance." He motioned for her to follow him. "Meals will be provided for all out of a common fund that has been taken care of. We have procured a pony for each member of the party, but each will have to pay the cost of the mount."
He stopped beside a speckled gray pony. "She is yours for the journey ahead. Equipment included."
"What if I paid for my own food, and you all pay for my pony?" she asked, recalling that the ponies would only make it as far as the outskirts of Rivendell.
Balin sent her a strange look. "Bombur will be preparing our food. Unless you feel the food will not meet your expectations?"
An impressively rotund dwarf turned at what she could only guess was the sound of his name.
She blanched. "No, no, that's fine," she insisted. "I have full faith in Bombur's cooking. Here, take the coin."
She dug out her coin purse and handed the silver to Balin.
"Good doing business with you, Miss Bolger."
Balin didn't even pause to count the coins she had given him. He simply passed the silver between his hands a few times and then slipped it swiftly into the folds of his coat, such that she couldn't tell in which side the money hid.
Marigold felt as if she had just watched a magic trick. She nearly asked him to show her again, like her brothers had begged their dad whenever he pulled a coin from behind their ears, but Balin sent her a wink and strode away to his brother.
Cheeks coloring, she turned back to her pony before she made more of a fool of herself.
The pony was a pretty thing, she supposed, not that Marigold knew much about horses. The sheen of its grey coat made it look clean and healthy. It's white mane was neatly braided in a complicated plait she had never seen before. Maybe she could try to recreate it on her own mess of curls.
She reached out and ran her hand along the braid. The pony started and threw its head in her direction.
She sprung away. "Sorry!"
"It's quite rude to touch someone's hair before even saying a proper hello."
Marigold's face burned as she glanced over her shoulder to find a grinning Kill and Filli.
"That is certainly one way to introduce yourself."
"Not very good manners though."
"Not at all."
She ignored them. The brothers were not deterred.
"Come now. Have you much experience with ponies?"
Marigold sniffed. "Of course I have." She had not.
Fili and Kili shared a knowing look. "All right, then, show us how it's done."
She had a faint memory of her father—her real one—placing her on the back of a petting zoo pony. She had waved proudly at her jealous brothers who had been too young to ride…But that was a lifetime ago—nearly sixty years.
God, she was about to make a fool of herself.
She grabbed the saddle horn and put her foot in the stirrup. So far, so good. The movies made it look so easy.
She pushed off the foot in the stirrup and tried to throw her other foot over, but her short leg didn't cooperate. She belly flopped onto the pony's back, foot caught somewhere near its butt. She wormed her body forward to get leverage, nearly toppling off in the process.
The pony did not appreciate the dance she was doing on its back and knickered agitatedly, throwing its head. Marigold gripped the horn with white knuckles until it settled. When it did, she scooted forward, hooked her feet in both stirrups, and sat up straight.
"See?" She said down to the brothers, who were clearly fighting hard to not outright laugh at her. "I've had plenty of experience with ponies." She flashed them a smirk. "From a distance."
Marigold gave the pony a light tap of her heel and nearly fell off again when the mare lurched forward. She didn't turn back to see if the brothers had noticed.
Luckily the pony needed no direction and ambled its way over to the rest of the dwarf laden mounts. A blessing if ever there was one—she frankly had no idea how to steer the thing.
"Fili, Kili!" Thorin yelled from the front of the party. "Do not dawdle. Mount your ponies. We are leaving."
Marigold sent the two a smug look over her shoulder. Served them right.
She turned back in time to catch the older dwarves throw each other uneasy looks.
Bofur, the dwarf with the funny hat, spoke up. "Are we not going to be waiting for the hobbit?" He glanced back at her. "The lad, that is," he clarified.
Marigold held back a cringe as Thorin's sharp eyes passed over her before returning to the company. Maybe being ignored wasn't that bad after all.
"The hobbit did not sign the contract. He made it clear he has no place on this quest." He paused, and his eyes found hers once more. "If only all were so wise."
Marigold nearly bared her teeth. That asshole.
"We move out," he declared and turned his pony to the path.
Gandalf urged his horse forward alongside Thorin and spoke, voice carrying over the company. "Now, Thorin Oakenshield, I would not discount our burglar just yet. I believe he will surprise us all before this day is done. Himself, most of all."
Thorin's expression did not change. "We shall see."
The rest of the company fell in line behind him, Marigold at the rear. She sent one last look at Bag End, trying to commit the sight to memory before it was eclipsed behind the bend.
The Shire was behind; home was ahead.
Marigold kept to her thoughts as they traveled south toward the East Road.
She did not like traveling by horseback—or ponyback, she supposed. As laden as they were, the ponies didn't move particularly fast. In fact, she was pretty sure she could keep a faster pace while walking than they did. And at least if she walked, she'd have something to do.
She had relaxed enough on the pony to release her white-knuckle grip on the horn, but her hands were left listless. They fidgeted with the reins until even the pony got fed up with her and began tossing her head and stomping until Marigold stopped.
The dwarves kept to themselves as well. They rode two or three abreast, talking and laughing together, but too far ahead for Marigold to be entertained by it. One of the dwarves whom she had not yet identified had not so subtly placed the pack pony between her and the rest of the company.
She rolled her eyes.
The only entertainment she managed was a small game of her own she fondly called "Name That Dwarf".
She had names to faces for about half the company, but the others had yet to be confirmed.
Fili and Kili rode in the middle of the group with Bofur. Dwalin, Balin, and Thorin rode at the front, just behind Gandalf. The rest of the party were fair game.
The most, ahem, rotund of the group, she guessed to be Bombur. He rode alongside a dwarf with an axehead in his brow, which meant he must be Bifur. Behind them was a group of three, which she supposed to be Ori, Dori, and Nori, but who was who was impossible to tell.
At the back of the party, nearest to her was a redheaded dwarf that she decided without much evidence to be Gloin and a gray haired one that she supposed could be Oin.
She made these guesses based on the assumption that the families were sticking together. It could have just as easily been Nori, Oin, and Gloin in the middle of the pack as anyone else.
She needed a new game.
Or maybe a hobby.
Could one knit on horseback?
It was early afternoon then, and they were passing through a town at the junction of the East Road. Hobbits milling about the streets stopped to watch the company pass. The sight of dwarves was not so remarkable in these parts, but the towering wizard at the lead and the shrinking hobbit girl in the rear changed the flavor of the scene.
Hobbits loved their gossip. Marigold supposed it was because there was not much excitement within their own borders that the smallest events were passed from mouth to mouth for weeks and remembered for even longer.
Luckily though, they had enough manners to keep their mouths shut until the company had passed.
"Is that a girl dwarf, Ma?"
Marigold jumped.
She turned to see a small hobbit boy tug on his mother's apron as they stood in their front garden watching the group pass. Apparently, the boy hadn't yet learned the famous Hobbit Tact.
Marigold glanced up at the company and was relieved to find that no one had seemed to hear the child. She listened as the mother quickly shushed the boy. When she caught Marigold watching, she grabbed his hand and fled into the house, slamming the door.
Marigold winced. She felt like she should be offended to be mistaken for a dwarf, female or not, but she knew the boy was likely the only one to make such a mistake. Dwarrodams were rare and for them to travel even rarer. She ought to know. She had harassed almost every dwarvish caravan that had passed through Budgeford and never once had she met a dwarrodam.
The adults recognized her for what she was: a hobbit traveling with a company of dwarves.
A thought struck her.
She twisted and dug frantically through her saddlebags. She found her cloak and promptly shook it out, whipping it around her shoulders and fastening it at her throat. The sun shone strong, but she flipped the hood up and pulled it down as far as she could to cover her face. Overheating was a small price to pay for anonymity.
For a moment, Marigold had forgotten that just because she had said goodbye to Belba and Rudgar did not mean they had done the same. They were likely searching for her at that very moment, and Marigold had stupidly shown her face to half the countryside.
Her wardrobe change did not go unnoticed by some of the company. The closest dwarves stared at her until she called out, "Can I help you, Master Dwarves?"
The two seemed surprised she had spoken and turned back, whispering to themselves in their own language.
Jerks.
She forgot that there was more to the quest than the excitement of trolls, elves, and skin-changers. Leagues and leagues separated them, and the in-between would likely be filled by the dull monotony of slow plodding.
Her butt ached just considering it.
"Miss Bolger!"
Marigold snapped to attention.
Kili had fallen back beside her pony. His wide grin dazzled her for a moment.
"How has the trip been treating you thus far?" he chatted.
Marigold raised a brow, suspicious of the sudden shift. "Fine."
Kili nodded, pleased. "Yes, well, that is good to hear. Now, about your cousin, Master Boggins-"
"Baggins."
"Huh?"
"His name. It's Baggins"
"Oh, right, of course, Baggins," he corrected with a flap of his hand. "Now, do you think he will be joining us on our quest?"
"Well, of—" she paused when she noticed Kili lean in. Warily, she glanced forward to find a good chunk of the party watching them closely.
She narrowed her eyes and peered back at Kili. "Why do you want to know?"
"Oh, well, just wanting to be prepared, you see. Need to know these sorts of things in order to be ready. The wilds can be unpredictable," Kili rambled, as Marigold's brows climbed.
"And it really would be good for you to have some kin along," a voice to her right piped up. Marigold nearly fell as she whipped around and found Fili's identically bright grin.
"We all have kin with us, you see. I imagine it would be a great comfort to you to have your cousin along."
"Indeed. Far more proper, too. Is it not unusual for female hobbits to travel unaccompanied? It would be unheard of for dwarrodams."
"Most unusual."
She was going to get whiplash looking between the two.
"So," Fili wondered, "will our burglar be joining us?"
"Oh, leave the lass alone," cried Bofur from further ahead. "Either place your bets or don't. Don't bring the lass into it."
"Bets?" Marigold asked.
"Oh, nothing really, just a small wager," Kili dismissed.
"Just a bit of fun," Fili added.
Marigold gave them a dry look. "I do believe what you're trying to do is called cheating."
"No, my lady," Fili corrected with an innocent smile. "We are simply using our resources."
Kili leaned in again to whisper, "But that means you know, do you not?"
Marigold sniffed. "Of course I know whether he will come or not."
Fili and Kili traded looks. "But you will not tell us?" Fili asked.
"No, I will not."
A voice from the front of the party carried back. "She will not say, laddies, likely because she is not so sure in her gifts as she has led us to believe." Dwalin threw her a derisive glance before turning back, satisfied with his piece.
"You think so?" she challenged. Marigold kicked her pony forward until she rode behind the tattooed dwarf next to Bofur.
Dwalin didn't even turn to look at her. "Aye."
Her teeth clenched. "Fine. Bofur, I put all my coin on Bilbo joining us."
Bofur's brows shot up. The whole party was now watching the exchange.
"Now lassie, are you sure you want to—"
"All of it," she snapped. She nodded at his lap. "I'd also like that bit of cloth you have there if I win." He had been using it to wipe his knife, but it'd have to do.
"Of course, of course," Bofur said, hands raised placatingly. "Gloin, mark the bet, please."
The redheaded dwarf in the back nodded.
"Why the cloth?" Bofur asked cautiously.
"For Bilbo, of course," she explained airily. "He'll need a handkerchief."
Bofur's eyes crinkled in delight despite her tone. "You have a bet then, lassie."
"I put all my money on Bilbo coming, too!" Kili called.
Gloin rolled his eyes. "I suppose you'll be wanting to do the same, Fili?"
Fili shook his head. "No, we can't afford to both be penniless all the way to Erebor."
"Don't have faith in the lassie, eh?" Gloin called more loudly than necessary. Marigold refused to take the bait.
"I just prefer to be a little more cautious than my brother," Fili replied.
"Where's the fun in that?" Kili teased.
"Wait! Wait!"
Fifteen heads swiveled. A small hobbit crested the hill they had just climbed, huffing and puffing.
"I've signed it! I've signed the contract!"
The company pulled their ponies to a stop. Marigold's thankfully followed suit.
A smug grin split her lips. "Right on time," she declared to no one in particular.
Bilbo stumbled his way to Balin's pony and handed him the contract. Balin righted the mess and peered at it carefully for a beat.
"All seems to be in order, Master Baggins," Balin said with a smile, tucking the paper away. "Welcome to the company of Thorin Oakenshield."
Bilbo gave them a tight-lipped smile and rocked back on his heels. "Yes, well, I am glad to be here."
"Give him a pony," Thorin declared and turned back to the path.
Bilbo sputtered out refusals but found himself summarily ignored. Moments later, he sat upon his own pony beside Gandalf.
Marigold listened closely to their conversation.
"I am glad you came to your senses, Bilbo Baggins, and emerged from your hole."
"Well, yes, I had to pack rather quickly. I was afraid I would not catch up."
Pouches began flying up and down the column.
"What is all this?" Bilbo asked.
"They placed wagers on whether you would come," Gandalf explained. "Most bet you would not," he added. "Well, they did until your cousin placed her own bet."
Marigold sent Bilbo a small wave when she felt all eyes turn to her again. She was glad for her hood then, despite the heat.
"Oh, well, I see." Bilbo's eyes darted back to Gandalf, clearly still uncomfortable with the subject of her 'skill'. "And you, Gandalf? Did you wager after Marigold?"
Gandalf's hand flashed up and caught a small pouch. "I placed my wager earliest of all, Bilbo." He sent him a wink. "And I never doubted you for a moment."
"Your winnings, Miss Bolger." Gloin appeared at her side and handed her a large bag of coin.
Marigold shook her head. "I cannot accept it."
"It is your winnings," Bofur objected from her other side. "You made a wager and won."
"For me, it was not a bet. It was unfair of me to place it to begin with. I will not take your gold."
The surrounding dwarves murmured, bewildered at her refusal.
Bofur tried to reason with her. "We were the fools to bet against someone such as yourself, lassie. Don't feel bad for us."
Gloin pushed the bag at her. "It would do us shame to not honor a bet placed. You must take it."
"I don't want it!" Marigold snapped.
The two dwarves recoiled.
"Marigold," Gandalf called back with a warning in his voice.
She sighed. "Fine, give it here."
Gloin handed over the nearly bursting purse with a glare.
"Bilbo!"
He turned, surprised, at the sound of his name. A purse sailed through the air, and Bilbo barely managed to catch it before it collided with his face.
"It is yours," she declared, throwing the dwarves a pointed look. "A welcome present from the Company of Thorin Oakenshield to you."
She swore she could hear Dwalin's teeth grind from where she sat.
Bilbo stammered out a refusal. "This is too much, I can't take this, cousin. It is more than—" A loud sneeze interrupted his speech. "One moment," he said, patting himself down. "Horsehair is not agreeing with—" Another sneeze broke him off.
"Bofur," Marigold called and tilted her head towards Bilbo. "The cloth, if you please."
"Oh dear," Bilbo exclaimed. "I have forgotten my handkerchief! We simply must turn back—"
"Here you are, Master Baggins," Bofur grinned, handing over his knife rag.
"What is this?" Bilbo questioned, trying to not let the disgust show on his face. He really was such a proper hobbit.
"Part of your cousin's winnings," Bofur said, delighted by the turn of events. "Seems she knew you were to be needin' it."
Bilbo sent her a nervous glance. "Right, of course, well, thank you." He ducked his head, stuffing the cloth in his pocket and turning decidedly forward.
Marigold grimaced beneath her hood. She supposed it was in his hobbit nature to be wary of her, but a part of her had hoped differently.
She slowed her pony and fell to the rear of the company once again. It was for the best. If Bilbo were to cling to her, the dwarves would be even less friendly to the hobbit than they already were. It didn't really matter. In seven months, she would be returning home, and this journey would be just another memory.
This too shall pass.
Marigold grew more and more tense as they traveled. She had pulled her hood so far down that she could see only her pony's head bob up and down and the path below her feet eaten away by its pace.
She recognized more and more of the area as they rode. She had spent her childhood hiding in these trees and bushes and spying on companies not unlike their own passing by.
She needed to be careful. The hobbits in these parts would recognize her, if not be searching for her outright. Though they would have to pry her dead body off the pony if it came to it. The dwarves would not take kindly to a band of hobbits demanding her return, regardless of her opinion on the matter.
No, she would have to be sure she went unrecognized. She retreated further into her cloak, ignoring the sweat slicking her back.
If the dwarves found her behavior odd, they did not comment.
Her pony suddenly stopped. She looked up to find the company had paused. At the head of the column Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin seemed to be debating something.
She took the moment to look around, and her nerves rocketed to new heights, stomach trying to do some sort of gymnastics routine. She considered for a moment how hard it would be to throw up over the side of a pony.
They were just south of Budgeford, where the Quarry Road met the East Road. Far too close to her home. They could not stop here.
She nudged her pony forward until she drew up next to their wizard.
"Gandalf," she whispered.
Gandalf turned, surprised to find her there. "Yes, my dear?"
"We cannot stop here. We are too near my home. We must continue on. At least to Stock."
Gandalf considered her words carefully. "I suppose you are correct. We should not linger in these parts for your sake."
She sent Thorin a nervous glance, and Gandalf followed her eyes.
"Do not worry. I will speak to our leader." He dipped his hat at her and then pushed forward.
Marigold let out a sigh, happy to have at least Gandalf on her side.
A throat cleared. She found herself unintentionally beside Bilbo and without her wizard human shield. She had been naïve to hope such a conversation could be avoided.
May as well rip of the band aid.
"How are you faring, cousin?" she began.
Bilbo sniffed. "Well, I've taken my fair share of walking holidays, but I have never ridden a pony for quite this long. Its not as, well, comfortable as I imagined."
Marigold chuckled. "My bottom has been numb for the last two hours at least."
Bilbo sent her a scandalous look before his cheeks twitched and a small smile flickered across his face. "It's good to hear I am not alone then."
Marigold's face softened. "No, you are not, Bilbo Baggins."
He opened his mouth to respond, paused, and closed it again. He cleared his throat. "Is it—well, is it true?"
Marigold played dumb. "Is what true?"
Bilbo fought for the right words. "That you're a—a, that you can see the future, I suppose? Is it true?"
Marigold sighed. "Yes, it is true, at least as far as this quest is concerned."
"For how long? I mean, how long have you known?"
"As long as I can remember."
His mouth fell open. "Even as a child? Even when I met you that first time? You knew?"
Marigold nodded. "Yes, even then. When I met you, I knew you would be coming on this quest." She looked away, eyes not seeing the trees but recalling their first meeting. How scared she was. How she nearly burst in tears. "In fact, meeting you actually allowed me to know how much time I had to prepare, you see."
She smiled sadly. "I remember learning I had twenty-five years to prepare for this quest. It seemed like such a long time." She frowned. "It was not long enough."
They sat in silence while Bilbo turned over her words, staring at her thoughtfully. "That must have been lonely," he said quietly.
Marigold did a poor job at hiding the shock on her face. "What?"
"It's just thinking of it, you were only a child. No one would have believed you."
Marigold felt a knot build in her throat. "It was—well, it simply was. There was nothing to be done about it, really." She turned away to hide her watering eyes.
"But still—"
"We move on!" Thorin declared from the head of the column. "We will make camp on the banks of the Brandywine River. These roads are safe. We will be able to travel through the early evening and not fear. We will not be so lucky later."
Gandalf returned to their side. Marigold sent him a grateful nod, which he returned.
She pulled back once again, retreating to the back of the company and avoiding Bilbo's prying gaze.
The sun set on their backs, its last rays of light casting shadows that extended far before them. They marched on with torches lighting their way. Marigold kept her hood up, unwilling to take any chances on the road even in the darkness.
An hour after the sun had set, the Brandywine Bridge rose in the distance. Thorin turned and addressed the company. "Fili, Kili, take a torch and search for a spot to sleep off the road. We will cross the bridge in the morning."
Fili and Kili dutifully dismounted, and Balin and Bofur handed over their torches.
Marigold peered curiously at the surrounding wood. Even in the flickering light of the torches, a familiarity itched her mind.
"The elvish clearing is near here…" she spoke to herself.
"There's a clearing near here?" Fili questioned. He had been passing her pony when she spoke.
All eyes turned to her. "Well, um—" her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. She was supposed to remain invisible. She was supposed to change as little as possible.
"If you know of a place, it would save us time searching," Kili pipped up.
Marigold fumbled for an excuse.
"Let her keep her secrets, Kili," Dwalin grumbled. "They likely would amount to nothing."
Her eye's narrowed. "I do know of a place near here," Marigold bit out. "It's just to the south, ten minutes on foot. A clearing protected on the north by a small cliff. It's sheltered with a good spot for watches."
They all stood silent. Marigold nearly smacked herself. She shouldn't have risen to the bait. So much for changing nothing. Though she was sure if she didn't get out of the saddle soon, she might never feel her butt again.
"The elves use it when they travel west," she added hoping to add credibility to the recommendation. The comment had the opposite effect. Thorin's nose crinkled in distaste. He opened his mouth likely to say something unpleasant, but Gandalf saved her.
"If the elves use it on their road to the Grey Havens, then you can ask for no better location. Lead on, Marigold," the wizard requested.
Marigold expected Thorin to protest, but he kept oddly silent. She nodded and turned her pony into the woods.
Not ten minutes later, she led them round a hill and into the clearing she had promised. A small cliff face carved out of the hill cradled the space, forming a crescent moon with a tree line on the south completing the circle. The perfect amount of cover with a built in vantage point. She smiled happily to herself.
"This will do," Thorin announced, appearing at her side. "We've wasted enough time." He sent her a cold look before barking orders. "Oin, Gloin get the fire going. Fili, Kili mind the ponies. Bombur, we are hungry." The dwarves set into motion.
Marigold was glad for it. She waited until they had all moved into the clearing before attempting what she knew would be disastrous from the beginning: a dismount.
Her muscles had been frozen in place already for many hours. She could barely unhook her foot from the stirrup. When efforts to move her left leg over failed, she ended up using her hands to literally pick it up and ease it over the pony's back. Though the moment her leg was over, she promptly lost what little balance she had and tumbled off. She rolled, narrowly avoiding being stomped on as the pony plodded away to its fellow mounts.
"Traitor," she threw at its back.
She stood and brushed the dirt from her hands and knees. She took a few shaky steps and soon had to grip a nearby tree for support. Walking felt odd. It was like being on a boat for days and returning to land. Her body moved with the sway of phantom waves.
She eyed the dwarves enviously. None of them seemed to be having any problems. Her eyes sought out Bilbo, and she held back a chuckle when she found him. The poor hobbit would have face planted off his pony had it not been for Gandalf grabbing him.
The speed in which the dwarves made camp was impressive. Ten minutes within arrival, a fire roared, bedrolls unfurled, saddlebags removed, and meat cooked.
She shouldered her own pack and looked for a comfortable spot. The dwarves seemed to lay out their belongings around the fire grouped with their nearest kin. Bilbo may be her cousin, but she'd only met the hobbit a handful of times and had never had anything beyond basic pleasantries. They would not be imitating the dwarves.
She found a nice tree on the clearing's edge to make her spot. She was too far from the fire to feel it's warmth, but she felt it best. Her presence added a tension to the air, and the dwarves needed a break as much as she did. She preferred her own company anyway.
"Dinner's ready, lassie!" Bofur called by the fire. He was helping his cousin Bombur hand out cooked meat.
Marigold fished out her bowl and slowly made her way over. Bofur plucked it from her hands and filled it with meat and a tear of bread.
"Hear you go, lassie. We'll put some meat on those bones, yet."
She gave him a tight smile and then glanced around nervously for a spot. It felt like the first day of high school all over again. The awkwardness of looking around the cafeteria for a place to sit—for friends to join.
"Marigold, come join me," Gandalf called patting a spot next to him. Marigold nearly stumbled in her hurry. His knowing look made it clear her panic had not been so subtle.
Marigold ignored him and dug in with a purpose.
"Tell me, how did you come to find out about this place?" he asked after a few beats of silence.
Marigold took a moment to finish chewing. "This was where I met the twins."
Gandalf's eyes twinkled. "Truly? How lucky for us then."
Marigold glanced uneasily at the surrounding dwarves. "Lucky…of course." Not at all planned by some higher power, she thought sardonically.
Gandalf understood she was not willing to speak more of it in the present company and engaged another dwarf in news from the Blue Mountains.
Marigold finished her meal quickly. With a compliment to Bombur and a goodnight, she retreated to her bedroll. The dwarves did not comment on its distance.
She placed her pack under her head and used her cloak as a blanket. Though the ground was hard, her muscles melted when she laid down. The exhaustion of the last two days hit her all at once.
She turned her back on the company and began a ritual she had begun long before she could even speak.
She whispered to the darkness. "Marigold Bolger is thirty years old. She has left her parents behind to go on a quest with thirteen dwarves, a wizard, and her cousin. She rode a pony for the first time today."
"Jude Callaway is twenty-eight years old. She left home at eighteen and never moved back. She lives a state away from her parents and brothers. She has no cousins. The only pony she ever rode was at a petting zoo."
Marigold woke up sometime during the night with the pressing need to pee. She rolled over and regarded the camp. The fire had dimmed, and a chorus of snores mixed with the sounds of its crackling, dying embers. None of the dwarves looked awake. Perhaps they had decided not to set a watch, given they remained within the safety of the Shire?
She rose slowly and slipped quietly behind a tree nonetheless. She went as far as she dared, did her business, and headed back. Just as she caught sight of the glow of the fire, a branch snapped to her left.
Marigold flinched and jumped back, crouching and reaching for her sword. Her hand grasped air, as she locked eyes with, of course, Thorin Oakenshield. He followed her hand, and his lip twitched mockingly at her error. She had left them behind.
Idiot.
"Where did you skulk off to?" he accused.
She stood to full height, but did not relax. "Skulk?" she hissed. "I went to the bathroom. I did not skulk anywhere."
Thorin snorted.
"I was trying to not wake anyone," she spat.
"You failed."
Marigold nearly growled. "Next time shall I inform you of my bowel movements then? Ask permission to pee?"
Had he been less high and mighty, Marigold imagined Thorin would have rolled his eyes.
He instead ignored her and changed the subject. "How did you know of this place?" he demanded.
Marigold recoiled. "Truly? That's what this is about? What? You think I've led you into some elvish trap?"
Thorin's countenance grew dark. He approached, menacing in the dark, forcing her back into a tree to avoid him.
"I do not know you. I do not trust you," he growled. "Now tell me, hobbit."
Marigold glanced over his shoulders to find the rest of the company still fast asleep. No help was coming.
"I was a child, alright? Thirteen winters old. Some hobbits had spotted a party of elves heading west on the East Road. I set off to find them. I found them here."
Thorin's brow rose. "You…found them?"
Marigold let out a small laugh, anxiety bubbling in her stomach. "Well they found me as well. I ended up staying with them here that night." Thorin's eyes narrowed. "It was late," she defended. "Night had fallen. The elves were kind. They wouldn't let a hobbit child leave their care. That is how I know this place."
A long moment stretched out as Thorin studied her face. Marigold was sure he could hear her heart trying to pound its way through her chest.
Finally, he withdrew. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.
"Get to sleep," he ordered and gave her his back.
Marigold gaped. "Excuse me? After all that? That's it?"
He did not deign to reply.
Assholes. The lot of them.
She stomped back to her bedroll. Sleep no longer came easily.
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