A/N: Hello my lovely readers~! I just wanted to say thank you for all your lovely comments. Even if I don't respond to them, I do read all of them and I've got them saved so I can read them when I'm offline and need a little morale boost. ❤️ (Since when can we have emojis in our stories?)

I also want to let you guys know that, sometime next month, I'll be posting a new fanfiction! It'll be for Pirates of the Caribbean and it's going to be quite different from my two Hobbit fics in that it's going to be a first-person POV. So if you like PotC and are interested, keep an eye out for it~

Exhausted, filthy, and aching, the group had made camp at the base of the pillar of rock—which Gandalf had told them was called 'the Carrock'. They had voted to stay the day and night there, seeking shelter inside the tunnel that wound its way up to the top. The spot they were in was located in the spit of land between a river's fork, offering them some protection from any possible enemy attacks.

A shiver ran through Baylee's body and she let out a squeak of surprise as she stepped into one of the rivers; though she had anticipated on it being cold, she hadn't expected it to be this cold. Not wanting to stay in too long, she found a flat rock to sit on and started to wash herself. She didn't like seeing how red the water turned when she started to wash the blood from her ankle and from her arm, nor did she like how much both stung.

'I suppose it'll be even worse once I wash my dress,' she thought. Glancing over her shoulder at the shore, she frowned at the garment. Just two days ago, it had been a nice, buttery yellow in color. Now, however, it had large splotches of black on it from the goblins as well as smaller patches of blackish-brown from her slide down the rock wall. There were even a few red splotches from her own blood. The skirt had a large tear out of the back of it and the hem was frayed in many spots. 'I don't want to go around smelling like stale goblin blood, so I have no choice but to wash it. But that means walking around in my underthings while it dries…'

Shaking her head, she let out a heavy sigh and continued to wash herself. Once she had all the dirt and blood off her skin, she debated on dunking her head in the water to wash her hair. She had almost decided against it until she pulled one of the braids over her shoulder and found that the ash-brown locks also had bits of orc blood on them.

By the time she walked out of the water, she was shivering and her teeth were chattering from the cold. She wrung out her hair before pulling on her bloomers and her shirt. Looking up, she found the sun to be still fairly low in the sky, denoting it to be only midmorning. 'Back home, I'd be making da' and me some second breakfast about now,' she thought, pulling her stays on over her head. She was glad to find that it, at least, was still in good shape. 'Then in a couple of hours, I'd visit the market and pick us up some odds and ends. Maybe some goodies from the bakery or visit Halfast for some meat for dinner…'

As she tightened the laces of her corset and tied them into place, she felt her stomach drop at the thought of Halfast. 'I know he wanted to hear about my adventures,' she said to herself, 'but will he still want to hear about them once he sees how scarred I've become? Once he sees that I'm not the same lass who left Hobbiton back in spring…?' Biting her lower lip, she grabbed her dress and walked back to the river's edge.

She knelt on a rock and looked into the water; though it was moving, its surface was fairly still, allowing her to see her reflection. "No hobbit lad in their right mind would ever want to court me now that I have these," she sighed, her fingers brushing against the scar on her face.

This was her first time seeing the injury since it had fully healed. To her, it didn't look any less bad than it did when the wound was fresh. It was unevenly discolored and, thanks to the way her eyelid had been injured, the eye could no longer open all the way. The eye itself was eerie to look at, being just a milky, light green halo floating in a sea of white.

"I'd be lucky if any lads even looked my way," she murmured, "let alone one as handsome as Halfast."

Closing her eyes for a moment, she allowed a single tear to slip down her cheek. After quickly wiping it away, she let out a heavy sigh and dunked her dress into the water.

When she was finished washing her dress—or, at least, trying to wash it, as it was a difficult task to do without any soap—Baylee pulled her petticoats on over her bloomers. As she tied them into place, she started to pace back and forth in an effort to warm up. Though she had earlier decided to just return to camp in her underthings, she was beginning to have second thoughts.

Primrose's voice filled her mind. "Baylee Baggins, don't you dare! A proper hobbit lass would never do such an outrageous thing!"

'But am I really a 'proper' lass anymore?' she asked herself. 'Proper lasses don't go on adventures, nor do they take up sword fighting or go about killing goblins…'

She wrung her dress out one more time and started to walk back to camp. Her pace was quick and she badly wanted to hug herself or rub her arms in an effort to warm up more. But both actions were near impossible since she was carrying her dress.

"After bathing in that cold water, the lads are definitely going to feel far more awake than they did half an hour ago," she murmured. While she was normally the last one to bathe, this time, the lads had offered to let her bathe first so that they could get a fire going and, possibly, track down some food.

Coming around a large set of boulders, she could see the spot where the company had made camp, but she couldn't see any dwarves. Her brows furrowing, she continued to walk, though she now glanced about, trying to see if—maybe—they had been ambushed while she was gone. But, surely, she would have heard some sort of commotion? She hadn't been too far from camp, after all.

Drawing nearer, she could see that there was a fire going, though there was no food to be seen. She also spotted piles of clothes lying about on the ground, telling her that the lads had, most likely, run off to bathe in a different spot. This was a bit of a relief for her, as it meant she could look for Bilbo's jacket and wear it until her dress dried.

And it was then she remembered that her father never left his clothes at camp—he always undressed at the river.

"Oh, bollocks," she mumbled. Seeing Bofur's pile of clothes nearby—save for his hat, oddly enough—she momentarily thought about stealing his jacket and wearing it. "No, no, that'd be rude…" Teeth still chattering, she carried her dress over to a large rock and spread it out over the surface so that the sun could dry it.

Once she had her dress laid out, she hurried back to the fire and sat down as close as she could without burning herself. The fire was small, being only large enough to rest a small cooking pot over, but it was better than nothing. She closed her eyes and sighed in relief; though she still shivered thanks to her damp hair, the front of her body was getting warm.

"Mouse-Lass?"

She squeaked and looked up in surprise to find Thorin stepping out of the cave. "Th-Tho—Oakenshield!" she stammered. "I th-thought you had been off bathing with the others."

His brow rose as he saw her huddled up next to the fire. "I'll bathe later," he told her. "Someone had to watch the fire and wait for you to come back." Realizing that she wasn't wearing her dress, he frowned. "Why are you in just your underclothes?"

Biting her lower lip, she felt her cheeks grow warm and she quickly looked back into the fire. "I-I had to wash my dress," she explained. "It was covered in goblin and orc blood."

"As well as your own." Shrugging off his overcoat, he lightly shook his head and chuckled. "Here. This will keep you warmer than that small fire," he told her, setting the garment partially on the ground.

Her cheeks still red, Baylee nodded and scooted back until she felt her hands come into contact with the leather. She wasn't going to argue against such a gesture when she was as cold as she was. A small gasp of surprise left her mouth as Thorin draped the rest of it over her body; it was much heavier than she was expecting. But, as he had said, it was warmer than the fire and she gladly pulled it around herself. Part of her was surprised by how soft the fur lining its outer edges was.

An amused smile came to the king's lips as he watched her. She had practically been swallowed up by the overcoat; only her head remained visible. Even then, her hair somewhat blended in with the fur surrounding her. "Is that better?" he asked, moving to sit down beside her.

"Very much so," she replied, a grateful smile on her lips. "Thank you."

He chuckled, turning to watch the flames as they danced about. "It's me who should be thanking you…What you did last night—what you and your father did—was nothing short of heroic, regardless of what you both say."

"We couldn't just let you die like that." There was a small frown on her lips as the scene from last night started to play out in her mind. "You're our friend…and the leader of this quest. Without you, we'd just be a—be a—uh—a gaggle of guideless geese." She smiled as Thorin let out a hearty laugh.

"I hate to say it, Mouse-Lass, but you're right about that," he agreed. He looked at her, the amusement remaining on his face. "I also need to thank you for grabbing my shield. I fear it would have remained on that cliff until the end of time if you hadn't grabbed it."

"It's important to you. I'd like to think that, if I dropped something important to me, someone would make sure to retrieve it…" A small sigh then left her mouth and she closed her eyes, trying to comb her hair with her fingers. "As it turns out, though, the only important thing I have left at the moment happens to be drying over on that rock."

"You also have your sword," he reminded her. He watched her nose scrunch up as she struggled to get her fingers through a particularly stubborn knot. "Which, by the way, you wielded quite well for that being your first real fight."

"I don't think I did very well," she murmured. "It was hard to keep up with the goblins—especially when there was more than one. My only saving grace was that I was so much smaller than them, I could get some of them before they even saw me."

"You're alive, aren't you?" he chuckled. "You wielded your sword well enough that you came out of that mess with minimal injuries. That's a far cry from when Fili first started to teach you."

A shy smile came to her lips and a bit of color returned to her cheeks. "That is true." She flinched slightly as she tugged her fingers through another persistent knot.

"Would you like some help, Mouse-Lass?"

Her face got a bit warmer. "…Some help would be lovely, thank you," she admitted. Hearing Thorin shift around, she soon felt him gather up her hair and pull it out from under the overcoat.

From under his tunic, he drew out a comb much like Bofur's. He started working from the ends of her hair, as it would be less painful and would get the knots out quicker. What didn't help much was that her hair was still damp; if her hair had been dry, the strands would have been easier to coax free of one another.

"Do hobbits have any traditions or taboos involving hair like us dwarves?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

"There aren't any taboos that I'm aware of, but if I recall, some parts of the Shire have the tradition of married women wearing their hair in a bun while unmarried lasses have their hair either braided or loose." She opened her eyes, her gaze falling to the dancing flames of the fire. "In Hobbiton, us unmarried lasses tend to wear bright, colorful ribbons in our hair while those who are married wear more muted colors."

Though he knew she couldn't see it, he nodded in understanding. "And what of the male hobbits? Do they have any sort of traditions?"

"Not really. Married or not, men tend to keep their hair about ear-length. Some have shoulder-length hair, though that tends to be a trend more for the older generations." She winced slightly as Thorin accidentally tugged a bit of hair.

"I'm sorry," he quickly told her, frowning as he saw her flinch.

"It's alright," she assured him. Then, with a soft chuckle, she added, "By now, da' would have made me wince four or five times."

He shook his head. "You should return the favor if ever you comb his hair."

A laugh left her mouth and her brow rose. "That would just earn me an ear flick, so I don't think I will." Keeping her head still, she looked away from the fire, taking in the appearance of the area instead.

"It's a good thing he's not a dwarf, then."

"Oh?"

"When a dwarf tugs that much at another dwarf's hair, it shows that they're careless or don't have much regard for the person whose hair they're doing." Getting the ends of her hair untangled, he started to work on the knots higher up. "There are even some dwarven parents who test their child's betrothed by having them do their hair. If they tug more than four times, they know not to allow the marriage."

"That's…actually a really clever thing to do," she chuckled.

He nodded in agreement. "Aye, it is…It's how my grandfather tested my mother, actually."

"Really?"

"Mhm. Understandably, my family has to be a bit picky when it comes to finding spouses, given that they may end up on the throne or give birth to the royal heirs."

"That makes sense…Were there other tests your mother had to go through?"

"To be honest, I can't remember. But I do know that my late brother-in-law had to prove that he was strong enough to defend my sister should the need ever arise. Though…That test was set by me." He quietly chuckled at the memory. "By that point, she and I had been living in Ered Luin for a few decades."

She somewhat nodded in understanding, not wanting to move her head too much. "What was the challenge you gave him?"

"He had to spar against me…and then Dwalin."

"Ooh…Yes, I can easily see how that would be a good way to test someone," she softly laughed. "I take it he beat the challenge, though, given that Fili and Kili are around?"

"Actually, he didn't. But the fact that he accepted the challenge and fought as hard as he could proved himself worthy of my sister's hand." He smiled, remembering how happy Dis had been on her wedding day. He hoped that she would, one day, be that happy when they returned to their home in Erebor.

A small smile came to Baylee's lips. "I would hope. Going against either you or Dwalin would be scary enough. But having to go against both of you?"

"Then consider yourself lucky that you'll never have a need to fight against either of us, Mouse-Lass," he replied, humor in his voice. With her hair now tangle-free, he started to separate it into sections.

She laughed, though her brow rose when felt him sectioning off her hair. She had been under the assumption that he was just going to comb her hair; not comb and braid it… "I consider myself enormously lucky that that's the case."

Taking one of the sections of hair, he further split it into three locks before beginning to braid it. "Other than finding the perfect ring and having to occasionally do a nearly-impossible task, I take it hobbits don't have any sort of challenges they give their children's potential spouses?"

"Not really, no. But da' used to say that he'd make my future husband go to each farthing and, from each, collect the biggest acorn, the smallest walnut, and the most perfect chestnut he could find."

His brows rose in surprise. "That…sounds quite difficult. Given how many of each tree the Shire has."

"It really would be, especially since the South Farthing has chestnut orchards and the North Farthing has walnut orchards."

"Has he ever given that challenge to someone?"

"Oh, heavens no," she chuckled, though her cheeks darkened a bit. Biting her lower lip, she looked back down at the fire. "There's only ever been one lad who's been genuinely interested in me and vice versa, but…" Her voice drifted off.

"But…? Does Bilbo not approve of him?" His brows furrowed slightly; for some reason, he didn't like the thought of there being a lad back in the Shire who fancied her.

She started to fiddle with the topmost layer of her petticoat. "It's not that; da' actually thinks the two of us would be a good match. But…I'm not so sure he's still going to want to pursue anything once I return to the Shire." Her stomach twisted slightly; it was strange, discussing her love life (or rather, lack of one) with Thorin, but, oddly, not the embarrassing sort of strange.

'I feel almost guilty about telling him about Halfast,' she thought, her brows furrowing slightly. 'But…why? It's not as if I'm courting Thorin—we're just friends.'

"Why do you think he won't want to pursue anything?" he asked, starting on a second braid.

Shrugging, she let out a small sigh. "I'm…not exactly the type of lass a respectable hobbit like him would want to court. At least, not anymore."

"Why? Because you've fought goblins and orcs?"

"Well…that's part of it," she admitted. "But there's also the fact that I've got large, visible scars now—and I'm bound to get more as our journey continues." For some reason, while she hadn't felt comfortable admitting such a thing to Bilbo and Bofur, she felt quite at ease confessing it to Thorin.

"And hobbits have little love for the appearance of scars," he stated, remembering their conversation back in Rivendell.

"Exactly." She let out a heavy sigh. While part of her had a feeling that Halfast wasn't the type of hobbit who would care about her scars, a larger part of her was already beginning to accept that there was an even stronger chance that he was that type of hobbit.

Thorin shook his head. "If he's going to base your worth solely on your appearance, then he is a fool. You've many wonderful qualities about you and the only one that can be determined in the slightest by those scars is your courage…or your sheer, dumb luck."

She felt her cheeks grow hot at his words, but she laughed, also remembering the conversation in Rivendell. "I've heard the two can often be confused for one another," she replied quietly.

"Well, for what it's worth, I believe it was your courage that got you those scars," he said, his voice also softer. "And while I know hobbits would frown upon them, if you were to walk into a dwarven city, they would be seen as marks of that courage. As a matter of fact, if you were a dwarf, there's a chance that you would keep the scar when you get reborn, showing everyone that you had earned such a mark in a fierce battle during your first life."

Her brow rose slightly. "First life? Do dwarves get to live more than once like elves…?"

At that, he frowned. "Do…hobbits not get reborn after they die?" He placed three braids over her shoulder so that they would be kept out of his way for now.

"As far as I know, we just go to the Halls of Mandos when we die."

"Interesting…Then again, I suppose hobbits are children of Eru and not Mahal. It would make sense that their fates are different than ours."

She turned her head slightly, trying to look at him. "So, then, dwarves do get reborn? How often? And is it all dwarves?"

He quietly chuckled; he should have known this subject would have piqued her interest. "At the moment, very few dwarves get to be reborn—it all depends on when Mahal deems it appropriate for us to return. As far as I know, there has only been one dwarf who has been reborn multiple times, though the time of his rebirth is never known. That dwarf happens to be Durin, the very first of the dwarves to awaken and one of my ancestors."

"He's the one you were singing the song about back in Rivendell."

A smile came to his lips. "You've a good memory, Mouse-Lass. Yes, that would be him." He placed another set of braids over her opposite shoulder.

She shifted slightly, stretching her legs out; she didn't mind when they poked out from the overcoat due to them being closer to the fire. "But why is he the only one who gets reborn so often? Surely other dwarves have been reborn more than once?"

"I'm afraid I don't know the answer as to why Durin is the one who gets reborn multiple times. But I can say that most—if not all—dwarves will get to be reborn at least twice. Once before Dagor Dagorath and then once more after Dagor Dagorath—perhaps even more after that time."

Her brows furrowed. "…What's Dagor Dagorath?"

"The end of the world." He wasn't terribly surprised to hear that she didn't know what Dagor Dagorath was; with how much hobbits loved peace, knowledge of such a destructive event would be hidden away and forgotten. "When Morgoth escapes his prison and musters all evil to him before launching an all-out war on the Valar and those who dwell in Valinor."

Baylee scrunched her nose up slightly. "I don't like the sound of that," she murmured.

He quietly laughed. "Then be glad you will be long gone before it takes place. After the battle, it will leave Middle Earth torn asunder and it will have to be remade. It's then that we dwarves will be called forth by Mahal to help reshape and rebuild the world. And then, we'll all gradually be reborn, just as Durin is."

"That's…really interesting. Do you know if any other races will be reborn? Or is it just dwarves?"

"I would imagine the elves get reborn as well, given how they were the First children of Eru." He glanced up, giving the area a cursory look around to make sure all was still well. "As for humans and hobbits…Our texts don't say anything about them, I'm afraid."

A disappointed hum left her mouth. "That's too bad. I don't think there's much information at all pertaining to what happens to us hobbits after we die. If there was, though, I would love to read it so I could find out if we get reborn as well."

"Do you know anything about what happens?"

She shook her head, able to feel multiple braids being moved around. "Just that we go to the Halls of Mandos, nothing more."

"A pity…but, then again, it could be because hobbits are of Eru. Mahal created us dwarves, and so he shapes parts of our lives as well as our afterlives. He even crafted a special hall within Mandos for us dwarves to dwell in until the Time of Remaking."

A small smile came to her lips. "That sounds nice…but also a bit lonely. What if there were people of other races you had become friends with? Would you be able to go see them in the main hall after they've passed on or do you have to stay within Mahal's halls?"

"Now that, I do not know," he admitted. "I would like to think it was possible, though part of me also knows there are not many dwarves who would have a good enough friend in a non-dwarf that they would leave the halls."

"Well…I hope those that do have good, non-dwarven friends are able to visit them," she said, hearing another small laugh leave Thorin's mouth. "I don't know about you, but when I pass on, I'd like to be able to see my friends and family who've passed on before me, whether they're a hobbit or not."

"Do you even know any non-hobbits aside from us and Lord Elrond, Mouse-Lass?" he asked in amusement.

Her cheeks turned a bit red. "No, but that doesn't matter. Because I'm sure, after this journey, I'm going to want to see some of you over there someday."

His brow rose slightly; her words had made a small bit of warmth come to his chest—but why? He didn't have long to think about it, however, as movement caught his attention and he glanced over top her head in time to see Bilbo, Fili, Bofur, and Dwalin coming towards them. "It looks like the others have finished bathing."

She bit her lower lip; she had rather been enjoying the peaceful atmosphere and quiet conversation. And given that the dwarves had left their clothes behind, she had expected them to be naked. So, when she saw that they were wearing their long underwear, she felt rather relieved. "And it looks like I'm not the only one wandering around in my undergarments."

"I wouldn't necessarily say you're 'wandering around', Mouse-Lass," he chuckled.

"I'll have to wander around eventually, Oakenshield," she chuckled, playfully rolling her eyes even though she knew he couldn't see it. "Even if I'm comfortable like this, I can't just sit here all day." Her smile faded, however, when she remembered that he was braiding her hair and what the others could easily mistake it for. "A-are you almost done, by the way?"

His brow rose at her sudden tone shift. "Why do you ask?"

"W-well…when the others see you braiding my hair, they might start wondering what your intentions are—da' especially."

His response was simple; though, it took even him by surprise and made Baylee's stomach flutter a bit. "Then let them wonder."