Standing on her tiptoes, Baylee took a sip of soup from the wood spoon, letting the flavors linger in her mouth for a moment. "Hmm…still needs more salt. And could do with a bit more ham, too." She set the spoon over the top of the pot before turning around to face the table. There, she had a plate with a pile of ham cubes sitting on it; before picking up the plate, she took one of the cubes and popped it into her mouth. "Mmm…yes, this is going to make the soup even better. There should be no harm in adding the rest of it…"
As she poured the entire plate's worth of ham into the pot, she could hear the sound of chairs scraping against the floor. Her brow rose slightly and she wondered if the dwarves were finally done eating or if they simply needed their drinks refilled again. Grabbing her salt box, she added a large pinch of the seasoning to the pot as well before giving it a good stir.
"Now to let that cook a few minutes before tasting it again…"
"Oh my, does it ever smell wonderful in here!" She stiffened slightly as she heard the dwarvish voice. Daring to look over her shoulder, she saw Balin stepping in through the doorway. "What is it you're making, Miss Baggins?"
Part of her wanted to stay quiet in case he and the others wanted some of the soup. But, the Baggins part of her told her to not be rude and to answer him. "Ham and potato soup," she politely answered.
"Ahh, I knew there had to be ham involved," he chuckled. "No worries about sharing it with any o' us, by the way—we've eaten our fill. Though, the final member of our group will be quite hungry when he arrives—he's traveled a great distance, after all. Do you think you'd be able to spare any for him, lassie?"
She glanced at the pot; it was one of her bigger soup pots, so there was more than enough for two hobbits—but two hobbits and a dwarf? "There should be, yes," she replied. "I added extra ham into it, so hopefully he'll find it quite hearty." Giving the pot a good stir, she took another sip from the spoon. "Oh, now that's perfect…" she murmured to herself.
"Your father is quite an excitable little fellow, isn't he?" Balin then asked. "Or is that a trait most hobbits share?"
"A fair few hobbits are excitable, though da' is a bit more so than most," she chuckled. "He's lived a quiet life—no offense, but you lads showing up has practically thrown his world upside down."
At that, the old dwarf laughed. "Ah, yes, I could tell that much from the moment I arrived. You don't seem to be quite as anxious as he is, however. In fact, you've seemed rather calm all evening. Save for that little scare you and Kili gave one another."
Her cheeks turned a bit pink. "I promise you, I only seem calm because of how utterly overwhelmed I am," she laughed. "Though, to be honest, this isn't terribly out of the ordinary for me—I work at the local inn, so I'm used to large gatherings."
"Is that so? Well, that certainly explains your excellent service with the drinks," he chuckled. "Which, by the way, we may need to call upon again once our final member is here."
"Al-alright," she said, rubbing the side of her neck. "So long as no one asks for wine a—" But as she looked back at the doorway, Balin was gone. A sigh left her mouth; she had been hoping to sit down and eat soon…but she was quickly learning that, when one had a house full of dwarves, plans weren't likely to go right.
"Excuse me!" she heard her father called from the hallway. "That is a doily! Not a dishcloth!"
Biting her lower lip, she crept over to the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. The dining table, she saw, was absolutely covered by cutlery, dishware, and puddles of ale. From the looks of it, there was hardly any food left—and the what was left was only small chunks. The majority of the dwarves were still seated, content grins on their faces as they started to pull out their pipes.
She shook her head and turned around only to jump in surprise as she saw Bifur coming into the kitchen. He headed over to the little corner window, where the sink was located. Before he could begin pumping the water, however, a plate came soaring through the air towards the back of his head. Baylee would have called out a warning, but he reached behind him and caught the dish before she could even think of something to say. As a second plate came flying in, he grabbed that, too.
And then, more dishes came flying in.
Her brow rose slightly as, in the dining room, she could hear the other dwarves beginning to stamp out a playful rhythm on both the floor and the table top. Turning, she could see them beginning to use the utensils to add an extra 'note' to the rhythm they were drumming out.
"Excuse me!" her father cried, sounding very distressed now. "That's my mother's West Farthing crockery! It's over a hundred years old! Can—can you not do that?! You'll blunt them!"
"Ooh, d'ya hear that, lads?" Bofur grinned. His voice had a mischievous musicality to it. "He says we'll blunt the knives!"
Eyes widening as she realized what was about to happen, Baylee pressed herself against a cabinet and crouched down. A grin came to her lips as she watched even more dishes go flying.
From the hallway, she heard Kili beginning to sing, the other dwarves soon joining in.
"Blunt the knives, bend the forks
Smash the bottles and burn the corks!
Chip the glasses and crack the plates!
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"
Leaving her spot, Baylee crept over to the hallway. Ori was standing beside her father, a stack of plates and bowls accumulating in his hands. Part of the hobbit lass was horrified to see the dishes being kicked about and bounced off foreheads, but another part of her was utterly amazed.
"Cut the cloth and tread on the fat
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat
Pour the milk on the pantry floor
Splash the wine on every door!"
Making her way back to the dining room, she found that, from somewhere, Dwalin had acquired a fiddle and Bofur a tin whistle. Fili was on the table once more, kicking the plates around while Bombur sat at the end of the table, wiping the remaining bits of food from the dishware and into his mouth.
"Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl
Pound them up with a thumping pole
When you've finish, if any are whole
Send them down the hall to roll!"
As her father suddenly burst into the kitchen, they finished the song off with a final line of "That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" followed by a hearty bout of laughter.
Standing up, Baylee turned around only to gasp in amazement: Their entire collection of dishware was neatly stacked on the kitchen table. As she stepped close, she saw that they were all as clean as could be. Bifur, meanwhile, was drying his hands off with dishcloth.
"How in the—" she started to asked, but she was quickly interrupted by three loud knocks coming from the door.
Everyone suddenly fell silent, their gazes turning towards the entrance hall.
"He is here," Gandalf said, his tone serious.
As he and the dwarves started to make their way out of the kitchen, Baylee felt someone grab her wrist and pull her aside. Looking over, she saw Bilbo beside her. Once the dwarves had left the room, he led her out into the hall.
"I don't like how quiet they all just got," he murmured to her. "If this is supposedly one of their companions, shouldn't they still be acting all rowdy and such?"
"Whoever he is, he sounds important." Before they could round the corner to the entrance hall, he stopped her again.
"You can peek, Baylee," he told her, holding up a stern finger, "but I don't want whoever this person is to see you. Not yet, anyway. Do you understand?"
She nodded. "Yes, da'." And, following his directions, she pressed herself against the wall before peeking around the corner.
As Gandalf opened the door, yet another dwarf was revealed. He wore a heavy cloak as well as a fur-lined jacket. Even if the others hadn't referred to him with reverence, Baylee would have been able to tell that this dwarf was an important person.
"Gandalf," he said, stepping inside as he unclasped his cloak. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find?" As he removed his cloak, he gave a nod of acknowledgement to the dwarves around him, some of whom bowed. "I lost my way. Twice. Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."
"Mark!?" Bilbo spluttered in disbelief. "There's no mark on that door—It was painted a week ago!"
Gandalf cleared his throat. "There is a mark; I put it there myself," he quickly explained. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company: Thorin Oakenshield."
Baylee watched Thorin's brow rise as he looked her father over. He didn't seem very impressed by what he saw.
"So, this is the hobbit?" Thorin said, amusement in his voice. He passed his cloak off to Kili, who took it obediently. "Tell me, Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?"
Baylee frowned; why would he ask her father such a thing? He was a hobbit and hobbits had ceased being warriors centuries ago.
"P-Pardon me?" Bilbo stammered.
"Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?" Thorin then asked.
Bilbo cleared his throat. "We-well, I have some skill at conkers, if you must know," he stated. Then, seeing the unamused looks the others gave him, he quickly added, "But I fail to see why that's relevant…"
"Thought as much." Thorin turned to the others. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."
Baylee's frown grew in size. "Burglar?" she murmured. "Why in the world would he think da' a burglar…?" Shaking her head, she turned and made her way back to the kitchen.
'So far he seems to be a bit of a grump,' she thought. She stood on her tiptoes, grabbing one of the wooden soup bowls. 'But that could just be because he's hungry…Balin did say he traveled rather far…' Picking up a ladle, she began to fill the bowl with the soup, making sure to not skimp on the meat. Then, after grabbing a spoon, she set the bowl on a tray and carried it into the pantry.
She was more than a little surprised to find that there had been food leftover from the abrupt feast earlier—quite a bit had been returned to the shelves, actually. As such, she grabbed a small loaf of bread, a bit of cheese, and filled a tankard with ale. All she put on the tray before lifting it and carrying it out towards the dining room. She took the long way around, not wanting to have to scooch her way past all the dwarves with hot soup and a full tankard of ale.
"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" Balin asked as she neared the room. "Did they all come?"
"Aye," Thorin replied. "Envoys from all seven kingdoms." At this, the room was filled with an optimistic murmur.
Dwalin spoke now. "What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?"
"They will not come." This was followed by a disappointed murmur. "They say this quest is ours and ours alone."
Baylee came up alongside Thorin, setting the bowl of soup down on the table for him. She picked up the plate of bread and cheese next, but as she set it down, her wrist was suddenly grabbed and she squeaked. Looking up in fright, she saw Thorin half-glaring at her.
"Who are you?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"B-Baylee Baggins…at your service, sir," she replied. From the corner of her eye, she could see a few of the others biting back snickers. "I'm Bilbo's daughter."
Thorin's brow rose and he released her wrist. "His daughter? More like his pet mouse," he commented. "Don't you know better than to sneak up on people?"
"I-I'm sorry. I thought you had seen me walk up." She set the ale down before looking at the others. "Would anyone like a refill?" It didn't surprise her when twelve tankards were slid down the table towards her. She was able to fit most of them on the tray, but the rest she had to carry in her other hand.
As she walked to the pantry, she heard her father hesitantly ask. "You're going on a quest?"
"Bilbo, my dear fellow," Gandalf said, "let us have a little more light."
While filling the tankards up once more, she could hear the dwarves quietly talking amongst themselves as they waited for her father to come back with a lamp. She was on the fifth mug when Gandalf spoke again.
"Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single, solitary peak."
"The…Lonely Mountain," Bilbo said. It sounded like he was reading off of something—a map, no doubt.
"Aye," spoke Gloin. "Oin has read the portents an' the portents say it is time." As he spoke, Baylee noticed that he seemed to roll his letters a bit more than the others.
"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold," Oin then said. He, too, seemed to roll his letters. "When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end."
Setting the final mug down on the trays, she lifted them and left the pantry.
"Uh, what beast?" her father asked, no small amount of nervousness in his voice.
"Well that would be a reference t' Smaug the Terrible," Bofur explained. "Chiefest an' greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks…Extremely fond of precious metals."
"Yes, I know what a dragon is," Bilbo replied, a bit of irritation in his voice. He glanced over as Baylee entered his peripheral.
"I'm not afraid!" Ori suddenly cried. As Baylee neared the dining room, she saw that he had stood up. "I'm up for it! I'll give him a taste of the dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!"
She watched Dori yank his younger brother back into his seat. "Sit down!" he hissed scoldingly.
"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us," Balin sighed. "But we number just thirteen—and not thirteen of the best…nor the brightest."
At that, the group burst out into a cacophony of objections and insults towards one another. Baylee swallowed hard, finding herself glad that she hadn't passed around the drinks just yet—she was afraid that, if she had, they would have gotten knocked over or thrown in someone's face. She looked over at Bilbo as he backed up a bit, placing himself between her and the throng of upset dwarves.
Fili's voice suddenly rang out over the din. "We may be few in number," he cried, "but we're fighters! All of us, to the last dwarf!"
"And you forget," Kili added as the arguments quieted down., "we have a wizard in our company! Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!"
Gandalf looked up, a bit startled that he was brought into this. "Oh, well now, I-I wouldn't say that—"
"How many then?!" Dori demanded.
"What was that?" the wizard asked.
"Well, how many dragons have you killed?" Dori elaborated. "Go on then! Give us a number!"
Rather than giving an answer, Gandalf instead started to cough on his pipe smoke; his cheeks had turned quite red by now. Once more, the dwarves started to argue and shout, some of them even jumping to their feet in an attempt to intimidate the others. Bilbo turned, gently pushing his daughter back another foot or so. She wanted to protest against this—the trays were beginning to feel quite heavy.
"SHAZARA!"
Baylee nearly dropped the trays in fright as Thorin jumped to his feet and shouted. Everyone else quickly sat back down, utterly silent.
"If we had read these signs, do you not think others will have read them, too?" he told them, his voice bearing the full weight of whatever authority it was that he held. "Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon, Smaug, has not been seen for over sixty years."
As Thorin spoke, both Baylee and Bilbo found themselves envisioning a mountain far, far from their home, its halls paved with all manner of gold and jewels. But while Bilbo also pictured himself standing atop a pile of gold, Baylee saw herself walking through the foreign halls, looking over the unfamiliar dwarven architecture.
"Eyes look east to the Mountain…assessing, wondering, weighing the risk." Thorin's voice drew the two hobbits from their thoughts, cementing them back in reality. "Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected? Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor!?" The dwarves let out a triumphant cheer. "Du bekâr! Du bekâr!"
Taking the opportunity, Baylee darted forward and handed off the trays to Gandalf and Bofur. She then stepped off to the side, partially hiding herself behind the dwarf.
Amidst the cheering, Balin suddenly spoke up. "You forget: The front gate is sealed," he reminded them, his tone an almost grandfatherly sort of scolding. "There is no way into the mountain."
"That, my dear Balin," Gandalf smiled, "is not entirely true." Baylee's eyes widened as, seemingly from nowhere, he produced a strange, angular key. Thorin, too, stared at it in awe.
"How came you by this?" he quietly demanded.
"It was given to me by your father—by Thrain—for safekeeping." He held it out towards the dwarf. "It is yours now."
As the key was passed off, Baylee noticed something laying on the tabletop: An old, weathered map. She moved a bit closer to the table, looking it over with interest; like her father, she had a love for maps and it was always a treat to see one of distant lands. From where she stood, she could see that it was aligned differently than maps she was used to—it seemed that, on this map, it was aligned so that east lay at the top of the page rather than north.
She blinked as the stem of Gandalf's pipe suddenly hovered over the page, near a drawing of a hand on the left side. "These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls," he explained.
"There's another way in!" Kili gasped, a grin on his lips.
"Well, if we can find it," Gandalf gently corrected. "But dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But…there are others in Middle Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage." Baylee noticed that, as he spoke, he glanced at her father from the corner of his eye; she swallowed hard. All of a sudden, she realized why Thorin had been asking her father about his preferred weapon. "But…if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."
"That's why we need a burglar!" Ori chirped.
Bilbo nodded in agreement. "Hm, yes. A good one, too. An expert, I'd imagine," he said. He hadn't quite caught on yet, so when he glanced over at his daughter and saw her wide eyes fixed on him, he grew a bit concerned.
Gloin leaned forward. "And are you?"
He frowned. "Am I what…?"
Oin suddenly let out a laugh. "He said he's an expert!"
"Wh-what?!" Baylee piped up, startling both Bofur and Thorin. Neither had realized until then that she had been standing there. "No, no, no—my da' is no burglar. He's not stolen a thing in his life!"
"What did I say about sneaking up on people, mouse-lass?" Thorin grumbled.
Before Baylee could inform him that she had, in fact, been standing there for a good ten minutes now and it was his own fault he hadn't seen her, Balin spoke up. "I'm afraid I have to agree with Miss Baggins. Mister Baggins is hardly burglar material."
Both Bilbo and Dwalin nodded in agreement. "Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," the latter said.
Once more, an argument broke out among the dwarves. Baylee made a mental note to serve them all tea or water the next time they wanted their tankards refilled. It was strange to her how, before Thorin arrived, they had seemed so friendly with one another and there had been no arguments of any sort.
'I suppose that's what happens when heavy subjects are being discussed in a stranger's house,' she thought, rubbing her temple. What didn't help matters was that the dining room was beginning to grow quite warm—how the dwarves weren't sweating buckets yet in all their layers, she hadn't a clue.
"Enough!" Gandalf suddenly snapped, drawing everyone's attention. His voice sounded too big for his body and the lights seemed to grow dim. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is." A few seconds passed and, as the light level returned to normal, he let out a sigh. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, as Miss Baggins keeps demonstrating this evening, they can pass unseen by most of they so choose."
"I'm not choosing," she muttered under her breath, cheeks growing bright pink. "They're just not looking." She heard Bofur somewhat fail at restraining a snort.
"And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf," he continued, either not hearing her or plain ignoring her, "the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage." He looked around at the dwarves, a knowing look on his face. "You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company and I have chosen Mister Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest—and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself and his daughter. You must trust me on this."
All was silent for a few minutes. Baylee glanced over at her father to find that he had grown pale again. He had rarely liked being the center of attention and now that he was both the center of attention in addition to hosting a troupe of strange, treasure-seeking dwarves…She let out a soft sigh. He was going to need quite a few puffs of Longbottom Leaf before bed that night.
With a sigh, Thorin finally spoke. "Very well. We will do it your way, Gandalf."
"N-No, no, no!" Bilbo protested, eyes widening to the size of saucers.
"Give him the contract," the dwarf continued, ignoring him. "And have one drawn up for Miss Baggins as well."
Her eyes shot open. "M-m-me? Why?!" she squeaked.
"N-No! Absolutely not! You are not taking my daughter on a quest across Middle Earth!" Bilbo stated, doing his best to sound more firm and less distressed. He blinked as he was suddenly handed a neatly folded length of paper by Balin.
"It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth," he explained. "Miss Baggins can take a look as well; hers will be nearly the same."
"Funeral arrangements!?" both Bagginses squeaked.
Biting her lower lip, Baylee went over to Bilbo as he stepped back into the brighter light of the entrance hall. Untying the green silk ribbon keeping it all together, he unfolded the contract only to watch it unfold nearly all the way to the ground. He held it a bit lower so Baylee could read it as well.
"Terms: Cash on delivery, up to, but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any," she read aloud. "Seems decently fair…"
Bilbo glanced over the rest of the contract while he made his way to the bottom. "Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence," Bilbo read, brows furrowing, "thereof including but not limited to lacerations…evisceration…incineration!?" His eyes practically bulged out of his head as he looked up. He suddenly felt quite woozy.
"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink o' an eye," Bofur told him, leaning forward in his seat.
"Oh dear," Baylee murmured, seeing her father grow even paler. Reaching over, she plucked the contract from his hands and folded it back up.
"You alright, laddie?" Balin questioned, genuine concern on his face.
Swallowing hard, Bilbo half nodded and bent over, resting his hands on his upper thighs. "U-Uh, yeah…Feel a bit faint." He closed his eyes as Baylee started to fan him with the contract.
"Think furnace with wings!" Bofur added, a bit of mirth in his voice.
"A-air. I—I need air," Bilbo wheezed and Baylee started to fan him a bit faster. He stood upright in the hopes that the wooziness would go away.
"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash!"
"Yes, Bofur, we can imagine quite well what incineration by dragon would be—" Baylee let out a rather unladylike curse as her father suddenly fell unconscious and collapsed to the floor in a heap.
Gandalf gave Bofur a scolding look. "Very helpful, Bofur," he grumbled.
After getting help with moving her father to his favorite chair in the parlor—which, thankfully, had been left untouched—Baylee found herself finally getting a moment to breathe. As such, she served herself a small bowl of soup (her appetite had mostly disappeared, but she knew she had to get at least one proper meal in her) and went to sit in the dining room. It was practically empty now, with most of the dwarves wandering around Bag End or stepping outside to get a breath of fresh air in the garden. Only Balin and Thorin were left, the former working on the beginnings of a new contract while the latter was scraping the bottom of his bowl.
She walked past them, doing her best to not sneak up on either of them; she even made sure to set her bowl down with a small 'thud'. Though, she didn't sit quite yet—she had noticed how Thorin was trying to get every drop of soup that he could. "Would you like more soup?" she asked him.
"Please," he said, holding the bowl to her. "Extra meat this time. That ham is very good."
Nodding, she took his bowl and went back into the kitchen. Using her foot, she lightly kicked a stepstool over to the grate and stepped onto it. Able to see into the pot better now, she sank the ladle all the way to the bottom, getting two and a half large scoops of mostly ham before filling the bowl the rest of the way with broth.
She returned to the dining room with the full bowl of soup and set it down in front of Thorin. Brushing some hair from her face, she went to sit in front of her own bowl a few spots down from him. All was quiet, save for the occasional laughter of a dwarf from another part of the house.
'I do hope they're not in mine or da's rooms,' she thought, her eyes focused on her soup. 'The last thing I need is for them to go snooping through our treasured things…'
"What title are we to give her?" Balin questioned after a few minutes.
Thorin looked at him, a brow raised; Baylee glanced at him, though tried her best to not be obvious. "Hm?" questioned the former.
"Miss Baggins. What's her title going to be? Or is she to simply be our spare burglar?"
"Hm." He was silent for a moment as he chewed a mouthful of ham. Then, swallowing, he looked at the hobbit and smirked in amusement. "Her title will be 'Mouse-Lass'," he finally answered.
Her brows furrowed in slight confusion and she looked at him; was he really so certain that she and Bilbo would agree to go on such a mission…? Especially after hearing about the dragon and the high chance of being incinerated! No fourteenth-share of any treasure could be worth their lives.
Despite the dangers, though, she had to admit it did sound tempting. Though a Baggins she may have been, she had always wanted to go out and see at least a little bit of the world before settling down to start a family. And when would she ever get the chance to leave the Shire and see the world like this again?
'Never,' she told herself. 'An opportunity like this is a once in a lifetime occurrence…and the fact it's happening for me is purely coincidental, given that Gandalf had no idea I even existed.'
"What will her duties be?" Balin's voice drew her from her thoughts once more.
"That is a good question." Thorin looked at Baylee once more. "Mouse-lass, what skills do you have aside from sneaking around?"
Her cheeks grew a bit warm. "…I-I'm fairly decent at foraging for herbs and wild edibles," she told him, "and cooking, but any hobbit worth their salt is good at cooking." She looked back into her bowl, biting her lower lip as she thought. "I…also have a good memory."
"I don't suppose you have a weapon of choice?" Both he and Balin nearly laughed at the very mention of a weapon.
"No, but I'd be willing to learn."
That made them pause and Balin looked up from his writing. "You'd be willing to learn?" he repeated. He hadn't expected that sort of response from a hobbit of all creatures.
She nodded, having taken a bite of soup. After swallowing, she said, "This quest sounds dangerous. If da' and I agree to go, it'd make sense for us to learn how to defend ourselves, right?"
"Lassie, I'm not sure there's a weapon in Middle Earth small enough for you to handle," Balin chuckled, "but you are talking sense and that's good to hear. Perhaps we'll find something small enough to make do for you to learn while we're on our journey."
Her cheeks turned a bit pinker as she nodded again.
"Put her duties down as foraging, sneaking, and spying," Thorin told Balin. "No doubt, we'll have a need for gathering information on this journey." He ate a bit more soup and listened to the scratching of Balin's quill as it quickly scrawled across the paper. "How did you get to be so good at not being seen?"
She was quiet for a long moment as she tried to formulate some sort of answer. She could recall many instances in her life where she had accidentally snuck up on someone without even trying—many of them being when she was within their range of sight and walking right towards them. "I really can't tell you," she finally answered, "because I don't even know myself."
"Perhaps it's your size. You are, after all, no bigger than a field mouse," Thorin chuckled.
Her lips pursed in a small pout. "I'm not that small," she murmured. "I'm just an inch or two shorter than the average adult hobbit."
Both dwarves quietly snickered at that comment.
"And what of her share of the treasure?" Balin asked, a bit of laughter in his voice.
Thorin opened his mouth to speak, but Baylee spoke first. "I don't need a share," she said. "If da' agrees to this, then his share would be more than enough for the both of us." Glancing over, she saw them giving her a strange look. "By hobbit standards, we're already quite wealthy. People are already convinced that we've got treasure hidden away in some secret room—which we don't, mind you—and if we suddenly acquired two shares of a dragon's hoard…" She shook her head. "I don't want to think of how impossible it'd be to get Lobelia and Otho to stop harassing da'."
"Miss Baggins?" Gandalf suddenly appeared in the archway behind Thorin. "Your father has finally awoken. Would you mind fetching him a spot of tea?"
Nodding, Baylee rose from her seat. 'At least I got half my soup eaten,' she thought to herself. As she went into the kitchen, she grabbed a clay mug from the cabinet as well as a teapot. 'Something's telling me that da' isn't going to want anything more to do with the dwarves' quest. But…while it sounds dangerous, it also sounds so interesting…'
She shook her head and sighed, putting some tea leaves into the teapot. "That's your Took talking again, Baylee," she quietly scolded herself. She grabbed the kettle, intending to fill the teapot. "Yes, a chance like this will never come up again, but you're a Baggins of Bag End." Setting the kettle down, she bit her lower lip and closed her eyes for a moment. "We Bagginses are very well thought of." It was a phrase her father had often told her when she was a child and had earned a scolding for misbehaving.
Opening her eyes again, she finished filling the pot with hot water. Setting it, the empty mug, a tea strainer, and a small container of sugar onto a tray, she carried it all to the parlor.
"…When did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you?" Gandalf was saying as she walked in. "I remember a young hobbit who always was running off in search of elves in the woods; who'd stay out late and come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs and fireflies." He glanced over at the younger hobbit as she set the tray down, pouring her father some tea. "A young hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. The world is not in your books and maps—it's out there."
"I can't just go running off into the blue," Bilbo argued. He looked up as Baylee handed him the mug. "Thank you, dear." He gratefully took the mug from her, letting its warmth seep into his palms. "You seem to be holding up well."
"Looks are deceiving," she replied with a small chuckle. "How's your head? Do I need to fetch you some medicine?"
He shook his head. "No, no…I'll be fine. I just need a moment of peace."
"There is one more thing I must ask of you, though, Miss Baggins," Gandalf said. "Would you make sure there are enough beds for the fourteen of us? We'll be wanting an early start, so we'll be turning in soon."
She nodded. "Yes, I can do that." She then looked at Bilbo. "If you need anything, da', just holler." Leaning over, she kissed the top of his head before leaving the room.
"You've had enough peace, Bilbo," Gandalf said as she walked away.
"I am a Baggins of Bag End and I am a father…"
Baylee made her way through the house, inspecting all of the guest rooms. While they had many—ten, in fact—there were still too many guests for the number of beds. She made many trips to the linen closet, using every spare pillow and blanket they owned to make up an extra four beds. On one of her trips to the closet, she was just in time to see Bilbo hurry into his bedroom and close the door.
By the time she had finished, the dwarves had all gathered in the parlor. Many of them had their pipes out, their smoke filling the small space with a variety of different scents. She approached the archway, having fully intended to let them know their rooms were ready.
Instead, though, she paused in her steps; the dwarves were humming. She watched as Thorin moved to stand near the fireplace, his eyes fixed on the flames. Then, to her great surprise, he started to sing.
"Far over the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day
To seek our pale enchanted gold
The dwarves of yore made mighty spells
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep
In hollow halls beneath the fells"
His voice was deep and melodic; she had never heard a voice so deep. The combination of the humming, Thorin's voice, and the spicy scents of the dwarves' tobacco made her head start feeling light for some reason; she found herself having to lean against the wall to stay upright. As she closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, Bofur's voice joined Thorin's in perfect harmony.
"For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword
On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, on twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun
Far over the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day
To claim our long-forgotten gold
Goblet they carved there for themselves
And harps of gold, where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sun unheard by men or elves
The pines were roaring on the height
The winds were moaning in the night
The fire was red, it flaming spread
The trees like torches blazed with light
The bells were ringing in the dale
And men looked up with faces pale
The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire
Laid low their towers and houses frail
The mountain smoked beneath the moon
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom
They fled the hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon
Far over the Misty Mountains grim
To dungeons deep and caverns dim
We must away, ere break of day
To win our harps and gold from him!"
Gradually, the others had begun to sing as well, their voices also almost in perfect harmony with Thorin's. Their song filled Baylee with a want—no, a need—to see the mountains and the forests of the wider world. Her heart ached at the thought of getting to explore deep, dark caves; of getting to experience the cultures of different peoples. She needed to see what kind of world there was outside of the Shire.
Even if it was just this once.
As she opened her eyes, she found that the dwarves were still focused on the hearth, watching the flames dancing about. Standing upright once more, she cleared her throat so as to not disturb the group too much.
"M-Master Balin, sir?" After hearing their song, her voice sounded small and quiet and it didn't help when all thirteen dwarves turned to look at her.
Though Balin gave her a kind smile, she could see defeat and sorrow in his eyes. "What is it, Miss Baggins?" he questioned.
"…Is that contract ready to sign?"