A/N: Surprise early update~! I hope you all enjoy~!
Thorin had hoped to leave Rivendell come morning, but the chaos of the previous day left everyone sore and wanting nothing more than to continue resting. The day after that, the company still wished to rest and even Thorin admitted that it felt nice to get some sleep in a relatively safe environment. And so, they stayed yet another night.
On the fourth day of their stay, Baylee found herself wandering the halls of Rivendell; unlike the previous days when Bilbo had accompanied her, she was alone. She was a bit glad for this, as she hadn't had much time by herself. Though she considered the dwarves friends by this point, they could, admittedly, get on her nerves at time.
Especially when they decided to burn one of the tables in their room just so they could roast some sausages.
'I understand that they're not the fondest of elves,' she thought, running her fingers along one of the railings, 'but that doesn't give them the right to be rude to our hosts like that. Even when they came to Bag End, they didn't break or burn anything—and they cleaned up after themselves!'
Shaking her head, she let out a soft sigh and paused in her steps. Turning towards the railing, she stood on her tiptoes and rested her arms on it, looking out over the area. Directly below her was a waterfall that fed down into a pool of clear water. If she either stood on her tiptoes or ducked down to look between the balusters, she could see that a set of stairs led down into the pool.
'I wonder if they use it for swimming or for bathing? Or maybe for clothes washing?' she wondered. On the second day of their stay, she had been shown to a private bathing room where an elegant copper tub had been half-filled with warm, citrus-scented water. While she bathed, her clothes had been taken away to be washed and mended and she had been given an elven gown to wear—one that had most definitely belonged to a child at some point. 'From here, it doesn't look like the water's moving around very much, so I can't imagine it'd be good any sort of washing…'
"Then again," she murmured aloud, "with this one eye, it's hard to tell if it's moving or not…"
She stepped away from the railing and continued to walk. In the distance, she could hear the dwarves' raucous laughter and she hoped beyond hope that they weren't being destructive in some fashion again. Slipping her hands into her pockets, she glanced down past her like-new dress at the floor. The tiles, like everything else about the place, were made of organic shapes, though the grout between them was a deep, almost metallic, bronze in color.
'I wonder how hard it'll be to learn archery like this?' she thought. 'It shouldn't be too hard, given that, whenever I've seen Kili shoot, he keeps one eye shut. But I also know that you need a fair bit of strength to draw back some bows—Mister Lightfoot goes hunting sometimes and always complains about how much his arm hurts the next day from using his bow. Or maybe he's just not using it right…?'
As she walked further and further away from the waterfall, her ears began to detect a newer, softer sound: A harp. Unlike the dwarves, she had rather enjoyed the music that had been played for them the first night of their stay and, because of this, she walked off to try and find the source of the music.
'It's very pretty,' she told herself. 'It's such a shame the others didn't like hearing it as much the other day. I wouldn't have minded if the music had continued through dinner…'
It took her nearly ten minutes of following the music before she finally rounded a corner and found its source. However, it was not an elf at the harp. To her great surprise, it was Thorin.
'He…he plays the harp?' Her brows furrowed in confusion. The harp was the last instrument she had expected a dwarf to play. Drums, fiddles, flutes…those, she could see a dwarf playing. But a harp?
Curiously, she moved closer to him, her head tilted ever so slightly. His eyes were shut as his fingers moved over the strings expertly, telling her that this was an instrument he knew well. Just as she was about to make her presence known to him, he took her by surprise once again by beginning to sing.
"The world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
No words were laid on stream or stone
When Durin woke and walked alone.
He named the nameless hills and dells;
He drank from yet untasted wells;
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
And saw a crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a silver thread,
Above the shadows of his head.
The world was fair, the mountains tall,
In Elder Days before the fall
Of mighty kings in Nargothrond
And Gondolin, who now beyond
The Western Seas have passed away:
The world was fair in Durin's day.
A king he was on carven throne
In many-pillared halls of stone
With golden roof and silver floor,
And runes of power upon the door.
The light of sun and star and moon
In shining lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
There shone for ever fair and bright.
There hammer on the anvil smote,
There chisel clove, and graver wrote;
There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;
The delver mined, the mason built.
There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,
And metal wrought like fishes' mail,
Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
And shining spears were laid in hoard.
Unwearied then were Durin's folk;
Beneath the mountains music woke:
The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,
And at the gates the trumpets rang.
The world is grey, the mountains old,
The forge's fire is ashen-cold;
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;
The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere;
There lies his crown in water deep,
Till Durin wakes again from sleep."
While he sang, Baylee's eyes drifted shut only to find herself looking upon a foreign land. Thick forests of evergreen trees lined the sides of snowcapped mountains and rivers shimmered in the midday sun. The scene changed; now she was looking down at a massive lake where a lone figured peered down into the waters. Behind him were the same mountains, though there was now a massive gate in the side of one them.
"What did I tell you about sneaking up on people, Mouse-Lass?"
She gasped, her eyes flitting open in shock. Thorin was looking right at her, his brow raised, but his face emotionless. "I-I'm sorry, I was going to let you know I was here, but you started singing," she quickly explained. Her cheeks grew darker and darker with her every word. "I-I didn't want to interrupt…"
To her relief, he chuckled. "No harm done, I suppose," he said, stepping away from the harp.
Her head tilted slightly again. "I didn't know you played the harp."
He let out another soft laugh, looking back at the instrument with some fondness. "Aye, I do…Not the most dwarvish of instruments, is it? But I find it relaxing. It forces you to think about the placement of your hands and the strength with which you pluck the strings, which makes you forget about almost everything else in the world—for a little while, at least." Looking back at the hobbit, he then crossed his arms over his chest. "And what brings a Mouse-Lass so far away from everyone else?"
She bit her lower lip slightly and glanced away guiltily. "Well, the lads are off bathing…and, to be honest, I wanted to get away from da' for a while," she admitted.
It was his turn for his head to tilt somewhat. "And why is that?"
Her smile turned a bit guilty. "Well, he won't stop talking about how lovely he finds Rivendell and how, someday, he should like to retire to a place like this."
"You don't agree with him?" He beckoned her to start walking alongside him.
"Oh, for the most part I do," she replied. "Rivendell is beautiful and wonderfully peaceful, but…at the same time, everything makes me feel like I'm a child again. I can barely see overtop the railings, the statues are twice as tall as me, even the eating utensils are a bit difficult to use due to their size."
Nodding in understanding, he clasped his hands behind his back. "While I also have the same frustration," he said, "I can only imagine it's even worse for you." He tilted his head back slightly, looking up at one of the murals painted on the wall. "One of the many downsides to staying with elves, I'm afraid."
She frowned slightly. "I know you're not the fondest of elves, but I think you and the others should try to be a little more polite to Lord Elrond and his people. It's because of them we're safe from those warg riders, after all. Not to mention, they also gave us room and food without hesitation or reservation." Turning her gaze back to the path ahead, she let out a soft sigh and tucked some hair behind her ear; it quickly fell back out of place, though. "They even treated our injuries and mended our clothes."
Thorin was silent for a long moment as he contemplated her words; she was right, of course. The elves had invited them into their home and given them all the comforts they could want…and, in return, he had said nothing as the others outright destroyed bits of furniture and bathed in decorative fountains. It would definitely seem that the elves of Rivendell had more kindness (and patience) in their hearts than the elves of Mirkwood…
He wouldn't admit it, however—at least, not for the time being. Instead, he looked over at the hobbit lass to see the bandages wrapped around her head. "How is your eye?" he asked after some minutes. "I haven't had the chance t' speak with you about since I first saw it."
"I'll have bad scarring on my eyelid and cheek," she answered, knowing he was trying to avoid the topic of elves. She thought it best to humor him, however. "Lord Elrond said I will be able to keep my eye, though there is still a strong chance I'll go completely blind in it."
He nodded slowly in understanding once more. "I'm sorry you've gotten such an injury so soon in the journey. I don't think any of us could have anticipated running into both trolls and warg riders in the same day."
"It could have been worse, I suppose." Unconsciously grabbing a lock of hair, she started to finger-comb it. "We could have all been eaten by the trolls or ambushed by the wargs sooner."
A soft laugh left his mouth and his brow rose once more. "Yes, that is quite true," he agreed. "But, we have you and your father to thank for ensuring we didn't get eaten."
At that, she shook her head. "No. That was all da'. He was the one who was buying for time by keeping the trolls distracted. I was just stumbling about in the woods, looking for ponies and getting ready to give up." She sighed, remembering how hopeless she had felt when she couldn't find any of the ponies while knowing how close to death the rest of the company had been.
She hoped she would never feel that hopeless again.
"That's not true. You were the one who guided Gandalf to us…and if you hadn't done that, then some of us, at least, would have been killed." He glanced over in time to see her attempt, yet again, to put the now-combed hair behind her ear and fail.
"…I guess that is true."
They walked in silence for a while, occasionally hearing the distant sound of laughter from the rest of the company. For the most part, however, what they heard were the sounds of either rushing water or birds singing. As they came upon an overlook where they could gaze out over the majority of Rivendell, they took a break from walking.
Watching as Baylee stood on her tiptoes to peer over the railing, Thorin could barely hold back a laugh. "If you'd like, I could set you on the railing," he jokingly offered.
Her brow rose, though she let out a small chuckle. "No, thank you. I'm quite fine down here." And with that, she sat down, her dress and petticoats fanned out around her like a flower. The view wasn't much different from there; the biggest difference was that she could lean forward slightly and see straight down.
Shaking his head, Thorin laughed quietly. He rested his arms on the railing and leaned forward slightly to look out over the area. He would never admit it, but he did find this place to be peaceful…and comfortable. Though the décor wasn't to his liking, it was nice enough.
"In Erebor, things will be more suited to people of our heights," he said after a moment.
She glanced up at him. "That would be nice," she replied with a chuckle, "though, I daresay I'll still be too short for some areas." Turning her gaze back out to the buildings below, she thought she could see her father on one of the balconies.
"Perhaps, but you are about the size of a dwarrowling, so it shouldn't be too difficult for you to reach things. Though, we have a while yet before we reach the Lonely Mountain." Stealing another look down at her, he then let out a quiet sigh. "That is, if you wish to continue the journey."
Baylee's brows furrowed. "Why wouldn't I want to continue the journey?" she asked, looking up at him again.
"Your eye. No one would fault you for wanting to break your contract and return to your beloved Shire."
She pursed her lips in a somewhat defiant manner. "I signed a contract, Oakenshield," she stated, "and I have no intention of breaking said contract. I may not be able to do much—possibly even less so now—but I'm still going to do my best to help you and the others reclaim Erebor."
A soft sigh left her mouth and she looked down at her lap, where her hands sat, folded overtop one another. "I know I'm just a small hobbit lass, but you lot have become good friends to da' and me over the past few weeks. I want to help you. Even if it means doing something as unimportant as foraging for herbs to make a meal taste better or scouting out a good place to sleep."
"You do more than that, Mouse-Lass." He sat down as well, one leg outstretched while the other was bent; he draped an arm over his knee while the other held his weight when he leaned back slightly. "I must admit, I originally thought you and your father wouldn't have much use on this quest—in fact, I had expected the two of you to turn around and go home after the second week. After all, I had always heard that hobbits prefer the warmth and safety of their homes to the unknown wilds outside their beloved Shire."
"Well, you certainly hadn't heard wrong."
He chuckled, nodding. "Aye, I hadn't—but, the two of you have still managed to prove me wrong. You constantly take us all by surprise with your foraging trips and Fili frequently tells me how easily you seem to disappear into thin air. Your father managed to keep a level head when we were all tied up in sacks…You both pushed past your fear when we were being chased by the warg riders…" He shook his head. "The two of you are constantly making me question how much courage hobbits keep hidden away in those small bodies of yours."
She let out a soft laugh. "Is it courage or is it actually just the drive to stay alive?" she joked.
"Many times, the two are often one and the same. I've heard they can also be confused with sheer dumb luck." He glanced over at her, an amused smile on his lips.
"Sheer dumb luck? Now that would be the best way to describe it for us hobbits." It was interesting, how different he could be when the others weren't around. He seemed calmer and more relaxed. 'Probably because he doesn't have to act like a king when they're not around,' she thought. Smiling, she tried to tuck the lock of hair away again, but yet again, it failed.
Thorin frowned ever so slightly as he watched her struggle with her hair; part of him wanted to offer her his assistance by braiding it back for her. He knew better, however: Fili and Kili had quickly taught both her and Bilbo about how sacred hair was to dwarves and how either offering to style it or simply styling it without being related to the person was a sign of flirtation.
"I won't lie to you and say that journey is going to be any easier from here on out," he said, turning his gaze back out past the railing balusters. "If anything, things will become more perilous…We're being pursued by an unknown enemy. The tamed lands are far behind us and will only grow wilder. Even in the mountain paths, where we dwarves are at home, there are more dangers than just the cold. I plan on us staying here for a few more days…in that time, I would like you think carefully about your decision to continue on with us, Mouse-Lass."
Baylee was silent for many minutes, her eyes closed as she thought over the last few days. That night and day had been the most terrifying ones in her life and knowing that even worse lay ahead of them…Of course it scared her.
But so had stepping out of Bag End to come on this journey. So had those first orc cries they had heard just over a week ago.
'Has it really been that short of time?' she thought. 'It feels like weeks ago when we heard them…' She tried to tuck the same lock of hair behind her ear, but still, it was to no avail.
Without thinking, Thorin got to his feet.
Unaware of the king's movements, Baylee remained within her thoughts. 'Regardless, I know what lies ahead is going to be worse—I've known from the very start just how dangerous this journey would be. There is, quite possibly, a dragon of all monsters sitting in our destination. And yet…here I am. Here da' is.'
Her eyes suddenly flicked open and she stiffened slightly when she felt a pair of hands on her hair. Realizing it was Thorin, she felt her cheeks grow dark.
"My apologies, Mouse-Lass, but you've been fighting your hair for the last hour," he told her, carefully coaxing the locks to shift around under the bandages. "I'm sure it must be annoying you quite a bit."
"I-I can take the-the bandages off if need be," she offered. While part of her wondered if this was an attempt at flirting, the more logical part of her mind quickly shut that down—this was Thorin. He would never flirt with a hobbit, let alone her. 'He's probably just annoyed by the fact that I can't seem to take care of my own hair,' she told herself.
"…That would be useful," he said after a brief pause.
Biting her lower lip, she reached up and, finding the spot where the bandages had been tied, she undid the knot. She stuck her fingers under the cloth strips, loosening them up enough that she could pull them all off at once. As her injured eye was exposed to the daylight, she winced slightly. "There…I hope that helps."
"It does, thank you." He started to comb his fingers through her hair, a look of concentration on his face. Though he had seen her and her father braid her hair often enough, he was a bit surprised by length of it—it reached nearly to the middle of her back. At first, he thought about doing a simple three-strand braid. Before he realized it, however, he was separating her hair into four strands at the crown of her head.
The two were quiet for a few moments, the only sounds around them being the singing of birds and the distant sounds of the waterfalls. Baylee remained still as Thorin braided her hair; she had tried to guess what style of braid he was doing, but had quickly given up when she realized he was using more than three strands. Soon enough, she closed her eyes and started to ponder his words over once more.
"Oakenshield?" she said after a moment.
"Hm?" He was somewhat startled by her voice, having been quite absorbed in his braiding.
"What were Dale and Erebor like? Before Smaug, I mean." She tried to subtly glance over her shoulder at him, but it was in vain. "You and Balin have spoken about the vast treasuries the two cities had, but that's about it…"
A soft chuckle left his mouth and his brow rose. "Aye…that's because most people only ever care about the treasure that they hope lies at the end of their adventures," he told her. "It's our way of making sure the others stay at least somewhat focused on our task. Am I making your hair too tight, by the way?"
"Not at all. And I can see why you would do that." As her left eyelid started to itch, she scrunched her nose up slightly and resisted the urge to scratch it. "But it'd be nice to know what other reasons you wish to reclaim it for."
"For one, the sheer beauty," he began. "From the outside, Erebor appears as any other mountain: Massive, grey, and capped with snow. But inside, everything has been carved from green marble; the roads, the pillars, the homes…everything." While he spoke, she could hear the wistfulness in his voice as he recalled the happy days of his youth. "And the marble wasn't just plain green. It had veins of gold and white quartz running through it that once shimmered and shone under the light of massive hanging lanterns. Not to mention, it also had gold foil that had been applied in places to accent the beauty of the city."
"I didn't know marble could be green." She had seen white and black marble in the bakery; the stone was good for when the bakers needed to keep dough cold.
"That's because Erebor is the only place in Middle Earth where you can find it." Finally reaching the nape of her neck with the braid, his plaiting got much faster. "And because it was carved from the mountain itself, whenever music was played for a celebration, you could hear it in even the furthest reaches. From the deepest mines to the topmost lookout point, you could hear the fiddles, the harps, the flutes…"
He let out a melancholic sigh, his eyes closing for a moment; there was a time when he had been able to recall images of his home in perfect detail. But it had been so long since he last walked those halls, the images were beginning to become mere blurs. The only thing that remained as clear as ever was a single jewel that had been embedded above his grandfather's throne: The Arkenstone.
"It sounds like it was a beautiful place to live," Baylee commented after he was silent for a moment. "Once you're on the throne, I'm sure it'll return to such."
Her words brought a small smile to his lips. "You hold a far more optimistic view of this journey than most, Mouse-Lass." Tying off her hair, he took a small step back to admire his handiwork.
"I try to be positive about most things," she told him. Feeling that he had finished braiding, she brought it over her shoulder. "I don't think I've ever seen a braid like this before."
"Really? It's just a four-strand braid. Do hobbits only use three-strand braids?" He chuckled; being that they found hair to be sacred, dwarves had invented many styles of plaits that weren't known outside their kingdoms.
"As far as I know; though, there could be those outside of Hobbiton that know different sorts of braids." She glanced over her shoulder at him, a small smile on her lips.
"Perhaps by the time you return to the Shire, you'll be able to teach others some new braids," he told her. He then paused, having caught sight of her injury. Her pupil and the majority of her iris were no longer visible, replaced by a large, milky-white spot. The very edges of her iris, however, were still visible, giving the spot a sort of pale green halo. Parts of her upper eyelid and her cheek were covered by thin scabs and dark bruising, though it seemed they were healing nicely.
Knowing he was staring at her eye, she let out a half-hearted chuckle. "It's hideous, isn't it?" She sighed and glanced down at the bandages in her lap. "Before I saw it in the mirror, I was wondering why everyone had been giving me such vague answers whenever I asked how bad it looked. Now I know why…"
He shook his head, moving to side beside her once more, though he unconsciously sat closer to her this time. "I've seen far uglier wounds in my lifetime, Mouse-Lass," he said. "Most of them on myself. With this elvish medicine you're using, I'm sure the resulting scars won't be nearly as bad as you think."
She chuckled softly, glancing over at him. "Now you're being the optimistic one."
"I try to be positive about some things," he told her with a small shrug and smile. "But I'm also being serious. I may not be fond of elves, but even I have to admit their medicine is better than that of any other race. Given how quickly Lord Elrond was able to get the white of your eye cleared up, I'm sure the scarring won't be too bad."
"I can only hope," she sighed. "Hobbits…well, being that we're not warriors, scars aren't necessarily considered attractive among the general population. In fact, they're often thought to be quite the opposite—especially on hobbit lasses." Running her fingers along the braid, a halfhearted smile came to her lips as she thought about Halfast. What kind of reaction would he have to seeing her scar? And what if she ended up getting even more of them? Would he reject her at first sight? Or would he try his best to look past them? "We're supposed to be prim, proper, and dainty, so having a scar like this would tell other hobbits that I'm not those things."
His brow rose at her words. "Well, then, clearly they judge too fast, because if I recall, you're constantly reminding your father to be proper by not slurping his soup and to make sure he has a handkerchief in his lap in place of a napkin. Just this morning, you smacked his hand away from the bowl of sliced fruit and told him to use a spoon to serve himself." He smiled as he heard her let out a small laugh and, looking at her, he saw that her cheeks were rosy. For some reason, the sight made his chest feel oddly warm. "As for being dainty…well, I do call you 'Mouse-Lass' for a reason."
"Here I thought it was because I kept sneaking up on you," she chuckled. She glanced over at him and found him smiling at her.
"Well…that, too."
"And just what are the two of you giggling about?"
Baylee let out a quiet squeak in surprise and turned her head the other direction only to find her father walking towards them. "Hello, da'," she said, smiling at him. His presence made her wonder if it had actually been him she saw down on the balcony or if, perhaps, she and Thorin had been up here longer than she thought. "Out exploring some more?"
He shook his head. "I've been on the hunt for the two of you. So are Fili and Kili, actually."
Thorin's brow rose in slight confusion. "Why is that, Master Burglar?"
Bilbo cocked his brow in return. "Because it's nearly supper and no one has seen either of you since breakfast—Baylee, dear, why is your bandage off?" It was then he took notice of her braided hair, though he said nothing; for now, he assumed that she had done it herself. Though, it didn't quite look like a hobbit braid…
"I was letting the wounds breathe a bit," she half-lied. She had, in truth, meant to put them back on earlier, but had gotten distracted by conversation. "Is it really near supper already?" When her father nodded, she let out a small sigh. "Feels like I ate lunch only an hour ago."
"It doesn't help that it's nearing the summer months," Thorin told her. "With the days growing longer, it gets harder and harder to keep track of time." He watched as Bilbo walked over to them.
"Hand me those and I'll put them back on for you," he said to Baylee. "You don't want them staying uncovered too long since they're still healing, after all." As he was handed the strips of cloth, he started to carefully wrap them around her head; naturally, he took the greatest care around her eye.
"Thank you, da'," she smiled, holding still for him.
"It's no trouble, dear." As he wound them about her head, he noticed that her braid, indeed, wasn't a hobbit braid. In fact, he was certain he had seen Nori use this same pattern when he was re-braiding his beard. "What've you been doing all day?"
"I've just been exploring," she told him. "I ran into Oakenshield a while ago and we've been talking ever since."
"You didn't 'run into me'—you snuck up on me, as usual," he corrected with a small laugh. He then looked at Bilbo. "Other than that detail, though, the Mouse-Lass speaks the truth."
Bilbo nodded slowly. "And how did she sneak up on you?" he asked with a chuckle. He always found it amusing when she startled one of the dwarves; she never tried to sneak up on them, yet it happened quite frequently.
"I had found a harp and was lost in my thoughts while playing it," Thorin answered.
His brow rose. "A…harp?" He carefully tied off the bandages. "How does that feel, dear?"
"Fine, da'. Thank you." She smiled up at him; though it was a happy one, he couldn't help but feel a bit heartbroken thanks to her injury.
"Yes, a harp," Thorin then said with a small nod. "It's a relaxing instrument to play, though it certainly isn't the first instrument one would think of when they think of dwarven music."
Bilbo chuckled, nodding in agreed. "I'd have to agree with that. Especially since you lot were criticizing the elven harpists the other day."
"They were playing a boring tune," he said with a small shrug. Standing up, he stretched slightly and felt one of his vertebrae pop back into place. He was about to offer Baylee a hand up, but Bilbo beat him to it.
"I thought it was actually a rather nice song," Bilbo chuckled as he helped his daughter to her feet. "But then again, my taste in music is quite different from yours…I also hold a bit more appreciation for elven culture than you as well."
Thorin nodded in agreement. "Elvish culture…is not to my taste," he admitted. "I will say this, however: Rivendell has managed to change my mind about some of their people." He glanced down at Baylee, seeing a knowing smile on her lips as she smoothed the skirt of her dress into place. "Aye, Mouse-Lass, this means I will be telling the others to improve their behavior towards the elven folk."
"Good," she chirped as the three of them began to walk. Seeing her father's confused expression, she explained, "I scolded him earlier about his and the others' behavior towards the elves. I'm glad to hear he's taken it to heart."
Bilbo closed his eyes and let out a quiet groan. "Baylee…what have I told you about getting mouthy with authority figures?"
"I assure you, Master Burglar, she wasn't 'mouthy'," Thorin laughed. "Aye, she scolded me, but it was the first—and probably only—time I've ever been put in my place so courteously."
"Well…at least she was polite about it…"