A/N: Hello everyone! I just wanted to thank everyone for the lovely comments they've been leaving; they're highly appreciated and greatly motivating ❤️ However, I might have to take a break from posting soon, as I'm quickly using up my buffer thanks to a bout of writer's block. Hopefully, this won't be the case, but I thought I would warn you just in case it does happen.
All was quiet while the barge floated through the water, surrounded on all sides by thick, unyielding fog. The air here was even colder, though the dwarves didn't seem to notice the change in temperature. The hobbits, however, very much did notice; father and daughter were currently huddled up together near the stern of the barge, doing their best to keep each other warm.
"H-how much longer is it go-go-going to be until we reach Laketown?" Bilbo asked, looking up at Bard.
"An hour at the least," he replied. "As well as I know this lake, I need to be cautious with this fog."
Bilbo nodded, letting out a small sigh as he turned his gaze back out towards the waters.
Baylee, who had her legs pulled up to her chest and tucked under both Bilbo's jacket and her dress, let out a small sigh. "Is it always this co-cold here? It's only the beginning of September…"
"The cold of winter comes fast to these northern lands," he replied with a chuckle. "Though it's only autumn, we'll have snow by the time November comes around. Worry not, though, little mistress. Once this fog burns away, the sun will come out and warm your chilled bones."
"Go-good," she said. "Now if only I could finish drying off…I feel as if I mi-might freeze solid…"
Bard's brow rose in amusement as he watched Bilbo scoot closer to Baylee and wrap his arm around her. "I take it, then, that your homeland doesn't get very cold?"
"Oh, it ca-can," Bilbo answered. "We like to st-stay inside when it's cold, especially if we're so-soaking wet. But when we do have t-t-to go out, we bundle ourselves up quite nicely!"
"I notice neither of you wear shoes. Do you even go barefoot come winter?"
Nodding, Baylee glanced up at him. "Yes, though if we're go-going to be out in the snow for quite s-s-some time, then we'll wrap some cloth around the-them or put on boots."
Her father's nose scrunched up. "Mostly the cl-cloth, though. Not many hobbits can st-stand to wear boots. They're just s-so constricting…not much room to wiggle your toes a-about." He lightly shook his head, earning another chuckle from Bard.
"I suppose that makes sense," he said. "I couldn't imagine walking around barefoot all of the time. Then again, we humans don't have nearly as tough of feet as you halflings."
Bilbo lifted one of his legs slightly, letting him look down at his fuzzy foot without leaning forward. "It's nice, feeling the earth under yo-your feet. In my opinion, it helps you keep your ba-balance better, since your foot can feel the dips and rises of the ground. Wearing shoes makes that a ha-hard task to accomplish."
"Th-the one upside to shoes is you never have t-to worry about mud getting between your toes," Baylee added. "No need t-to worry about that disgust-ti-ting squidgy feeling or having to wonder if yo-you actually stepped in mud or p-poo or both."
"Baylee!" Bilbo scolded, his brows furrowing.
"Wh-what? It's true and you know it, da'," she pouted. She glanced up at Bard, who was snickering at her comment. "Why do you think fa-farmers with livestock wear sh-shoes? So they know they're not getting p-poo between their toes!"
A heavy sigh left Bilbo's mouth and he raised a hand to his forehead. "You're th-thirty-th-three, dear—not th-thirteen. You don't need to be complaining about having poo be-between your toes."
"I would imagine it's a valid worry when one does not wear shoes," Bard said, doing his best to quell his laughter. Though he knew they were adults, he couldn't help but see them as little more than bickering children at the moment. "You will not have that problem once you're in Laketown, however. At most, the only thing you'll have to worry about is acquiring a splinter or two."
"I'd like t' see a splinter get through a hobbit's foot." The hobbits looked up to find Bofur walking towards them. Sitting beside Bilbo, he wrapped his arm around the hobbit, who immediately let out a sigh of content at the increase in warmth. "The skin on their feet is tough like leather…it'd have t' be a mighty sharp splinter t' get through it." He then glanced over his shoulder at the bargeman. "About how much longer until we reach the city?" he asked.
Bard raised his brow, knowing that the way Bofur was holding Bilbo was a bit more intimate than a normal hold to help keep him warm. As such, he was left suspecting that they were more than just friends. "An hour at the least," he replied.
"The fog is m-ma-making it slow going," Baylee added, knowing Bofur would want to know why it would take them that long.
"That's understandable. Don't want t' be crashing into any logs or rocks," Bofur chuckled.
"Logs or rocks?" he chuckled. "No, master dwarf, I have no concern for logs or rocks. It's the ruins of ancient Esgaroth that I must keep an eye out for." While he spoke, he turned the rudder of the barge a bit and the vessel turned slightly to the right.
A few seconds later, the trio gawked as a large, stone pillar was unveiled from the fog. As they passed by it, they could see that there was only a foot or two between the pillar and the side of the barge.
"As you can see," Bard said, amused by their awe, "the ruins can be practically invisible if you're not looking for them."
Bilbo frowned. "W-wouldn't it be easier to sail d-d-down the middle of the lake, then?"
"We are in the middle of the lake, little master." He turned the rudder again, letting the boat turn to the left a few degrees. "The ancient city was nearly three times as large as Laketown is today…and that was just the portion in the lake."
Baylee cocked her head and turned slightly. "S-so, part of Esgaroth was on l-land?" she asked. "Wh-what about Laketown? Is it entirely in the w-wa-water or partly on land, too?"
"B-Baylee, you shouldn't ask him s-such questions when he's trying to concentrate," Bilbo scolded. "We don't n-need to be crashing into any ruins because you wanted t-to know about the placement of a city that's long-gone."
Slightly shaking his head, Bard quietly laughed. "It's quite alright, little master. I can use my eyes and my mouth at the same time." He glanced down at them, finding that Baylee's cheeks had gone red with embarrassment from her father's scolding. "Ancient Esgaroth sat on both the land and the lake," he explained. "The lake acted as a divider between the two halves of the city: On land was where everyone worked and traded while, out in the water, was where everyone lived. This way, should any sort of attack happen, they could raise the draw bridge and keep out the invading army."
She nodded in understanding. "Th-that makes sense…what happened to the city, th-then? Something must have happened to make pe-people abandon it in favor of Laketown's location?"
"During the second age, there was a great cataclysm that changed the very foundations of the earth. Almost a third of Middle Earth disappeared beneath the waves of the ocean, but to the east and south, new lands rose up from the depths as the world was turned from flat to rounded." Seeing the outline of another ruin approaching, he turned the barge to the starboard. "This event sent powerful earthquakes throughout all the lands and it was these earthquakes that rocked the city so hard, it became too dangerous for people to continue living out on the lake. At least, while the foundations were made of stone."
"Huh…Wonder what made all o' that happen?" Bofur murmured.
"The greed of men," Bard answered. "I do not know the specifics, but an ancient people called the Númenóreans tried to attack and take control of the Undying Lands. Understandably, this angered Eru and, not only did he destroy their armies, but he made it so no mortal will ever be able to reach the Undying Lands—only elves." He glanced down at the hobbit lass to find her staring at him in awe.
"Wow," she murmured. "How di-did you come to learn all this?"
"It was taught to me by my father, and to him by his father and so on and so forth for tens of generations. You see, there was a group of Númenóreans who hadn't succumbed to the same greed and lust for power. It was they who came to Middle Earth and founded the realms of Arnor—where your beloved Shire is—and Gondor in the south…"
Bilbo quietly laughed, shaking his head as he heard Bard continue to give Baylee a little history lesson. "I wasn't aware she had become such a scholar during our journey," he mumbled, resting his head against Bofur's shoulder.
"The whole reason your wee lassie wanted t' come on this journey was t' see new lands an' learn about new people," Bofur chuckled, his eyes closing as he rested his head atop Bilbo's. "It shouldn't surprise you that she's tryin' t' glean information from everyone we meet."
"That is true…Originally, that was my reasoning for coming along, too."
His brow rose, but his eyes remained shut. "What do you mean, 'originally'? What new reason would you have for continuin' this journey?"
A soft laugh left his mouth. "I have a few reasons. One being that I promised to see the end of this with you all."
"An' the others?"
"To watch over my daughter for as long as possible. And the third reason happens to be holding me right now."
Bofur felt his cheeks grow red and a tender smile came to his lips. "Well, now you're just bein' sappy," he quietly teased. "I'm surprised that fifteenth share o' treasure isn't on your list."
"No, it's not very high up, admittedly. I don't have much use for even more wealth, after all. Anyway, with Baylee and I each getting a share, that's more than enough to last us three—" He then paused. "Oh. Wait. That's right."
"…You forgot that she won't be comin' back t' the Shire with us, didn't you?" His voice was even quieter now.
Bilbo nodded and let out a sigh. "Yes…you would think I'd be used to the thought by now."
His brow rose. "Why's that? It's only been—what, a month? A month and a half?—since you found out that your wee lassie is Thorin's One, let alone that meanin' she'd be stayin' in Erebor." He gave Bilbo a gentle squeeze, feeling the hobbit lean in closer to him. "Mahal's beard, it took me nigh five years just t' come t' terms with the fact that me own brother got married an' moved into her family's mansion. I can only imagine how much worse it'd be if he had moved acr—" He suddenly paused, his eyes widening as a distant shape rose out of the fog.
The Lonely Mountain.
He wasn't the only one to have noticed; the rest of the dwarves had also fallen silent and were standing in awe as they beheld the sight. Even the hobbits had fallen quiet and were staring at the distant peak.
"Th-that…is a very big mountain," Baylee said. She knew they were still nearly fifty miles from the mountain and yet, it looked just as big here as the Misty Mountains looked from just a mile away.
Bard's brows furrowed as he saw his passengers' reactions. He, of course, knew how the mountain had once been a sacred stronghold of the dwarves. Like other citizens of Laketown, however, he had come to think that, thanks to the mountain being defiled by Smaug, the mountain would be considered a cursed and wretched place now.
"Baylee." Though he had spoken softly, it almost sounded like Thorin's voice had been at full volume thanks to how quiet everything now was.
Getting to her feel, Baylee made her way to the front of the barge. As she came to stand beside Thorin, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"Erebor…Our home. Isn't it beautiful?" he murmured, holding her close to him. "Its snowcapped peaks still glisten in the sunlight, just like I remember."
"It is lovely," she agreed, a small smile on her lips. Though she did find the sight of the mountain to be quite lovely, she couldn't help but feel intimidated by it as well. It was far bigger than she thought it would be, which made her feel smaller than ever. She could only imagine how much more intimidating it would be at its front gates.
He looked down at her, smiling tenderly. "One day soon, you and I will sit beneath that mountain as king and queen," he told her, watching a blush begin to creep its way across her face. "I daresay you'll be the smallest queen the mountain's ever seen."
Her cheeks growing a bit darker, she gently nudged him. "V-very funny," she told him, brow raised.
Chuckling, he gazed back up at the mountain only to frown as the fog hid it from sight once more. A soft sigh left his mouth and he moved to sit down with his back against the railing before motioning for her to sit with him. When she sat down beside him, he once more wrapped his arm around her, holding her close; he did his best to ignore the snickering he could hear coming from Fili and Kili.
"How're you doing?" he asked, his voice a little louder now. "You still look like you're freezing…"
"I am," she admitted, snuggling in close to him. "B-but I was assured th-that once the sun burns away the f-fog, it'll get warmer." She looked up at him, a reassuring smile on her lips. "N-not to mention, you're quite warm, so I sh-should be warming up soon."
"That's good to hear…I don't want my future queen to turn into an ice sculpture, even if she would make an extremely lovely one." Closing his eyes, he let his head tilt back to rest against the wood. "What were you and Bard talking about?"
"He was telling m-me about the history of Laketown and E-Es-Esgaroth," she answered, "and how the ruins we're sa-sailing through were once part of the original city."
His brow rose. "There was a city here before Laketown? I was unaware of that."
She nodded, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the bit of extra warmth he brought her. "During the second age, th-there was a large, sprawling city. But there was a m-ma-massive earthquake that all but destroyed it. S-so they rebuilt on the southern end of the lake and used w-wood instead since it seemed to handle earthquakes b-better."
"Interesting…I'm surprised he would know such history. Most times, among the humans, it's the rich who are educated in such matters. But with him being a bargeman…"
"M-maybe Laketown educates everyone, n-no matter their social status?" She shrugged. "It's what we do in the Sh-Shire."
"And what we dwarves do. But the race of Men has always been peculiar when it comes to social status. They're not allowed to marry outside of it, the poor remain uneducated while the rich have only the best tutors…" He shook his head and let out a quiet sigh. "I wonder how the bargeman will sneak us into the city…"
"He has a na-name, you know," she chuckled, her brow rising. "I know I told you it's B-Bard."
While part of him wanted to tease her about 'bargeman' being his title and how he liked to call people by such, he managed to refrain. Instead, as he started to stroke her shoulder, and looked around at the others. "I suppose it slipped my mind, as I haven't been the one talking to him," he told her. "In all seriousness, though, did he tell you how he plans to smuggle us in?"
"No. I'm afraid it d-didn't come up in our conversation…I do hope that what he has planned, though, wo-won't be too dangerous."
"I also hope he isn't about to betray us," Thorin sighed. "We paid him good money to get us into the city…the last thing we need is to get thrown into jail again. Something tells me that, if we did get caught here, your father won't be of much help."
"Why is that?"
"Thranduil's dungeons were in a remote part of his palace. It was easy for you and your father to sneak around, unnoticed—especially your father, given that he has that ring of his. Laketown, on the other hand, will more than likely have its dungeon close to the heart of the city so that it can be under surveillance all of the time." He looked at Bard, finding that he was now talking with Bilbo and Bofur. "Even with your father's ring, it'd be far too dangerous for him to try and break us out if we were to get caught."
She nodded slowly in understanding. "I su-suppose that makes sense," she murmured before covering her mouth as she yawned. Despite having been unconscious for who-knows-how-long earlier, she didn't feel at all rested.
"You should try and get a small nap in, Mouse-Lass," Thorin told her. "I'll keep you warm."
She nuzzled in a bit closer to him, turning slightly so that her arms were tucked between the two of them. Normally, she would argue against taking a nap, as she didn't want to be caught off guard if something were to happen. This time, however, she put up no argument. "Al-alright," she said, "that sounds quite agreeable to me." Opening an eye, she glanced up at him to find a small, content smile on his lips. A content smile of her own came to her lips when she closed her eye again.
When she next opened her eyes, it was because Bofur was gently shaking her. She covered her mouth as she yawned and looked up at him blearily. "What is it?" she questioned. She found that he was kneeling in front of her, a look of mild worry on his face.
"We've nearly reached the city," he told her. "Bard needs us t' hide in the barrels." As she yawned again, he gently picked her up and set her on her feet before standing himself. Looking over his shoulder, he could see the others beginning to climb into the various barrels; one dwarf to each barrel.
"The-there are only fourteen barrels," Baylee commented, her brows furrowing slightly. Glancing around, she couldn't see her father and figured that he had already climbed into a barrel. "I take it da' a-and I will be sharing one?" Thorin, she saw, was getting help from Dwalin as he scrambled into a barrel.
Bofur nodded. "Aye. The two o' you are small enough, you should still have plenty of room." A small smile came to his lips as he looked down at her. "Come on; I'll help you get in." He led her over to the barrels that were closest to the stern, peeking down into them to see which one Bilbo was hiding in.
"I'm over here." Looking to his left, Bofur saw Bilbo peeking out from his barrel. "Lift her up and I'll help her in."
Despite knowing it was coming, a quiet squeak managed to leave Baylee's mouth as she was lifted up. A few seconds later, she was released and a short drop left her standing in the barrel alongside her father.
Bofur snorted at the sight; almost the entirety of Bilbo's head was visible above the rim of the barrel, but only the top inch or so of Baylee's head could be seen. "Now sit down, you two," he told them. "We don't need the top inch o' Baylee's head givin' us away."
Pouting, she rose up on her tiptoes and peeked over the rim at him. "You're not fu-funny," she jokingly scolded, wagging a finger at him. She could see the cheeky grin on Bofur's face as he started to walk away.
"Come on, dear. Let's get ourselves situated," Bilbo chuckled. As he moved to sit, he gently grabbed her forearm and pulled her down with him.
"Is th-the plan to just hide in the ba-barrels, then?" she quietly asked, pulling both her dress and the coat over her knees when she got in a relatively comfortable position. As small as she and Bilbo were, it was still a bit difficult for them both to fit in the bottom of the barrel while sitting, where it was narrower than the middle.
He shrugged. "I'm not sure," he replied. "Bard only told us to climb into the barrels and for us to trust him." He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close in hopes of sharing some body heat again. Now that they were in a relatively enclosed space without any breezes, they would hopefully be able to warm up a bit more. "How was your nap?"
"Sh-short." She closed her eyes, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I'll be fine, though. I've go-gone for longer on less."
He nodded in agreement and opened his mouth to speak when Bard's voice quietly called out to them, "Hush now! There are guards ahead."
All fell silent; they were so quiet, in fact, that it was almost eerie. Baylee's brows furrowed; she could hear the gentle lapping of the lake against the barge's hull as well as the quiet creaking of the barge as it was pushed forward through the water. In the distance, she could hear laughter and, after barely a minute, she could hear cursing as well.
Evidently, Bilbo had heard the cursing as well because he pursed his lips and, shifting slightly, he covered Baylee's ears. The action almost made her burst into a fit of giggles; she was used to hearing people curse, whether it was the dwarves or the drunken patrons of the Green Dragon. She had even said a handful of words herself that were far worse than the ones currently being said by the humans.
There was one good thing about his parental actions, however, and that was his hands, being quite warm, nicely defrosted the tips of her ears.
After a few moments, the barge came to a halt. Both hobbits frowned; the noises outside the barrels didn't sound nearly plentiful enough to be inside a city. Shifting once more, Bilbo poked the cork out of the barrel's bunghole and, pressing his eye against the hole, was able to see that they were temporarily moored at a floating dock.
"Can anyone see anythin'?" he heard Nori loudly whisper.
"He's talking to some men," he replied, also in a loud whisper. His eye then widened in shock. "And now he's pointing right at us!"
Baylee's eyes shot wide open and her heart began to race. Bard was betraying them!? But he had seemed so trustworthy!
"Now he's shaking their hands," Bilbo continued, fear now filling his voice.
"What?!" Thorin hissed.
"That villain! He's sellin' us out!" Dwalin growled.
Bilbo swallowed hard, returning to his sitting position. He looked down at Baylee, his worry all too evident on his face. When he saw her turn to look at him, instead of fear on her face, he saw confusion—and that she was looking above them. His brows furrowing, he turned his head and looked up in time to see a net full of fish dangling over them.
The two hobbits just barely had enough time to cover their heads as hundreds of small, dead fish were dropped down into their barrel. Baylee let out a small yelp that was, thankfully drowned out by the wet smacking sounds of the fish as they piled atop one another.
'Ew, ew, ew, ew!' she thought, her eyes clenched shut. While part of her had to admit that this was a bit of an ingenious plan on Bard's part, most of her wished that he had found a different way to conceal them—one that didn't involve oodles of fish. 'Oh, they're all cold and damp, too! Ugh, at least they're fresh…we won't smell too bad that way.' A shudder still ran through her body.
What felt like ages passed by when, in fact, it had only been ten minutes. The barge came to a halt again and, this time, a friendly voice could be heard (though it was rather muffled thanks to all fish).
"Halt! Goods inspection!" the man sounded like he was an older fellow. "Ah, Bard, it's you. Papers, please."
"Morning, Percy," Bard said in reply, his tone warmer than it had been towards the dwarves.
"Anything to declare, lad?"
"Nothing, but I am cold and tired and ready for home."
"You and me both," Percy laughed. There was a dull thudding sound before he spoke again. "Here you go. All in order."
A third voice suddenly joined in. "Ah, ah, ah…Not so fast." This voice sounded far less friendly than either Bard or Percy. "Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm. Only…they're not empty, are they, Bard? If I recall correctly, you're licensed as a bargeman. Not a fisherman."
"That's none of your business," Bard replied, his voice having a good deal of coolness to it now.
"Wrong. It's the Master's business," the third voice said, "which makes it my business."
"Oh, come on, Alfrid. Have a heart—people need to eat!" Bard argued.
"These fish are illegal!" Baylee heard a small splash and wondered if this Alfrid fellow had tossed one of the fish back into the lake. "Empty the barrels over the side."
A fourth voice said, "You heard him. Into the canal. Come on—get a move on." By the authoritative tone he used, Baylee guessed he was some sort of soldier.
"Folk in this town are struggling," Bard said, his voice colder and just the slightest bit desperate. "Times are hard and food is scarce."
"That's not my problem, now is it?" Alfrid sneered.
'Ooh, how I want to take one of these fish and hit that—that arsemunch right across the face with it!' Baylee thought, her lips pursing in a small pout.
"And when the people hear the Master is dumping fish back into the lake?" Bard then countered. "When the rioting starts, will it be your problem then?"
There was a momentary pause. Then, in a very begrudging tone, Alfrid ordered, "Stop."
The living occupants of the barrels all let out quiet sighs of relief.
"Ever the people's champion, eh, Bard?" Alfrid hissed. "Protector of the common folk? You might have their favor now, bargeman, but it won't last."
A few seconds later, they heard Percy call for the gate to be raised and the sound of squeaking metal filled their ears. Much to everyone's joy, the barge started to move once more.
"The Master has his eye on you!" Alfrid called, trying to make himself sound threatening. "You'd do well to remember, that bargeman! We know where you live!"
In quite the exasperated tone, Bard called back, "It's a small town, Alfrid. Everyone knows where everyone lives."
It was nearly ten minutes before the barge was halted once again—this time, for good. The hobbits could hear the sounds of Bard beginning to knock over the barrels. As the combination of fish and dwarves came rolling out onto the deck of the barge, quiet cursing was heard. A squeak and a yelp then left Baylee and Bilbo's mouths as their barrel was tipped onto its side and they were sent spilling out with the fish.
"Gross," Baylee murmured, her nose scrunched up. She managed to get to her feet without much problem, but it was a different story for the dwarves.
Thanks to the sheer amount of fish littering the deck of the barge, the dwarves were having a hard time finding places to put their feet that wouldn't result in stepping on and crushing the fish. A few of them—namely Dwalin, Nori, and Bombur—didn't much care, however, and stepped wherever they pleased.
"Follow me," Bard told them, his voice a bit quiet, but commanding nonetheless. "Try to be as quiet as you can and stay together."
Normally, the group would have been loath to take orders from a human, but they knew they couldn't risk being found out now. Because of this, they remained quiet and did their best to stay together as Bard led them through back alleys and side streets. When they were almost home. They were almost to his home when a boy in his teens came running up to them.
"Da'! Da', the house is being watched," he said, his voice a bit breathless. Hearing this, Dwalin and Thorin quietly cursed, which drew the lad's attention to the group of dwarves. "…Da'…why are you leading a troupe of dwarves through town?"
"It's a long story, Bain," Bard sighed, looking over his shoulder at the group. "We need to get them to the house without the Master's spies catching them."
"And how do you intend to do that?" Thorin demanded, his voice quiet. The last thing he wanted was for his irritation to get them caught.
Shaking his head, Bard let out a sigh. "I'm not sure yet. Bain, where's the house being watched from?"
"The front," he replied. "I'm not sure how many there are, but I know there's at least Mr. Thompson and Mr. Colbert."
Bard slowly nodded, his eyes closing and a look of concentration coming to his face. He was quiet for many minutes as he thought their dilemma over, his brows seeming to furrow deeper and deeper as the minutes passed by. Just when the group was beginning to wonder if all hope was lost, he opened his eyes.
"I know a way to get you into my house," he told them, "but you're not going to like it."
Little over fifteen minutes later found the dwarves and hobbits climbing up and out of the toilet of Bard's home (that, luckily, was free of any excrement thanks to the water having washed it away). One by one, they popped out of the toilet while Bain stood nearby to help if any of them needed it and to direct them around the corner and up the stairs. Being small enough, the Bagginses came up as a pair and, out of the whole group, were the only ones who needed assistance—and not just because of their heights. The water was nearly freezing, making them shiver quite badly.
"Th-th-there b-b-b-better b-b-be a fi-fi-fire up-p th-th-there," Bilbo grumbled, his whole body shaking. He urged Baylee up the stairs, both of them moving as quick as they could.
"Da'…why are there dwarves climbing out of our toilet?" a girl in her mid-teens questioned.
"Will they bring us luck?" asked another girl, this one being around the age of ten or so.
"No, they won't bring us luck, Tilda," Bard answered quickly. Seeing their blue-tinged lips, he ushered the hobbits over towards the fireplace; it wasn't very big, but it was warm. "We'll need as many blankets as you can find. Once they're all up here, I'll explain everything."
Baylee and Bilbo stood on either side of the fire, their hands held out towards the flames. Neither of them said a word, though the chattering of their teeth could be heard. A moment later, Baylee undid the buttons of Bilbo's coat and peeled it off of her body, dropping it onto the floor; that was one less layer the heat had to fight past.
Soon, all thirteen dwarves were gathered in the house, leaving the space quite crowded. Some sat on chairs, some sat on benches by the table, while others remained standing off to one side so they wouldn't be in the way. As Sigrid and Tilda passed out blankets, they thanked the girls before wrapping themselves up.
Rather than pass out blankets like his sisters, Bain instead grabbed a large cooking pot and, filling it partway with water and the rest of the way with wine, he went to hang it over the fire from a chain. He went into a side room—the pantry—for a few minutes only to return with a handful of spices and seasonings. Dumping these into the water and wine mixture, he fetched a spoon from the kitchen and gave the concoction a good stir.
"Here you go, miss," Tilda said, holding out a blanket to Baylee.
Gladly taking it, Baylee gave her a small smile. "Th-thank you," she said, quickly wrapping herself up.
Tilting her head slightly, Tilda looked her over. While Baylee was nearly a head shorter than her, she very much looked like an adult rather than a child. On top of that, she didn't wear any shoes! "…I don't mean to pry, miss, but where are your shoes?"
Baylee blinked, a bit taken aback by the question. She managed a laugh, however, and smile. "I'm a ho-hobbit," she explained, doing her best to not stutter. "We don't wea-wear shoes." She watched as the girl's eyes widened in astonishment.
"I thought hobbits were nothing more than fairytale creatures," she gawked.
"I do-don't blame you," Baylee chuckled. "Most ho-hobbits don't ever leave the Sh-Sh-Shire, so we're a bit of an oddity on this side of the Mi-Misty Mou-Mountains." The combination of the fire and the blanket was slowly beginning to warm her up.
Tilda frowned slightly as she looked Baylee over once more. "Hmm…It might be a bit big on you, but I've a dry dress you could wear," she offered.
Her eyes widening slightly, Baylee smiled. "Y-yes, please. Th-that would b-b-be wonderful," she replied. She started to follow the young girl across the house, the two of them having to weave their way through the crowd of dwarves before heading up a flight of stairs.
"So…why is there a group of dwarves and two hobbits hiding out in our house?" Tilda asked when they reached the top landing.
"It's a bit com-complicated. But we were traveling to the Iron Hills," she explained, remembering to use the cover story Balin had come up with. "W-we were making our w-way through Mirkwood when…a bit of a misunderstanding took place. N-Now the elf king wants to throw us in h-his dungeons."
To her surprise, Tilda's expression changed to one of excitement. "You mean you're fugitives?" she chirped. "How exciting! We've never housed fugitives before!"
Feeling both confused and amused by her words, Baylee laughed. "Well, I cer-certainly hope not! And I ho-hope it doesn't become a ha-habit for your family, either." She pulled the blanket closer to her body, watching the girl as she searched through a trunk at the foot of a bed.
"I suppose it'd depend on the fugitive," she said. "If da' trusts you enough to smuggle you in, then you mustn't be bad people."
'Or that we paid him a good amount of silver,' Baylee thought. "I would li-like to think we are. We've co-committed no crimes, after all."
Tilda nodded in understanding, though she continued to search through the chest; she was looking for one of her older, warmer dresses. "Why are two hobbits traveling with all those dwarves?" she then asked. "You said that hobbits aren't keen on leaving the Shire and the stories da' used to tell us said they were quiet folk who frowned upon going on adventures and the like."
"M-my father and I are…well, we're considered oddballs b-by hobbit standards. There's a fam-family of hobbits called the Tooks who are known for being advent-venturous. We both have Took blood in us."
Standing upright, Tilda held out a small pile of clothes towards her. "Has it been scary? Traveling this far away from the Shire?" She motioned to a changing curtain in the corner before taking the blanket from Baylee.
"At times, it's be-been extremely scary," she admitted, carrying the clothes behind the curtain. "We've run into tr-trolls, goblins, and wargs along the way." There was a stool behind the curtain and she set the clothes atop it before beginning to remove her sword belt.
"Ooh, I don't think I'd like that! That's why you have a sword, then? To fight them off?"
"Mo-more like, I try to fight them off. I'm neither the best n-nor the strongest fighter in the gr-group." Leaning her sword against the wall, she started to unlace the front of her dress.
"But you do know how to fight?"
"Essentially, y-yes. The dwarves taught me and da' ho-how to fight along the way." As she pulled her dress off, Tilda remained quiet; Baylee knew what she was thinking, though. "B-before you ask, no, my eye did not get like this from fighting."
"…How then? If you don't mind me asking, that is…"
A quiet sigh left her mouth—not from the question, but from the relief of removing her dress. She hadn't realized just how heavy it had grown while wet and now she felt rather light. "I g-got it when one of the trolls threw me through so-some brambles," she explained. Pulling the first piece of clothing from the pile, she found that it was a set of petticoats—ones that were surprisingly short for a girl Tilda's size. "These petti-petticoats are quite short for a lass your height…" she commented.
"That's because they're from when I was smaller." Tilda sounded quite pleased with herself for divulging this information. "We always save the clothes we grow out of so we can repurpose them in some way or give them to someone who needs them more than us."
"We-well, they're just about the per-perfect length for me," she chuckled, tying the petticoats around her waist. They were heavier than her original petticoats, but they were also made of thicker, warmer material. "I suppose these are from wh-when you were hobbit sized."
Tilda giggled. "They might be. I don't quite remember how old I was when I gave them up." She paused again before asking, "Do you mind if I ask how old you are?"
At that, Baylee chuckled. "How old d-do you think I am?" Next came an underdress with long sleeves; this was a bit too big for her, so she rolled the sleeves up to the elbow. The hem of the dress reached almost to her ankles.
"…Well, you're small like a child, but you look like you could be an adult…So…maybe twenty? Twenty-one?"
"Add twelve years." She quietly laughed when, after a few seconds, she heard the girl gasp in shock.
"You're almost as old as my da'!"
Pulling on the overdress, she found that it, too, was too big for her, but not by much. Not that she minded, however—she was already feeling much warmer. Grabbing her sword, she belted it into place around her waist before gathering up the raggedy heap that was her dress. She stepped out from behind the curtain. "How old is your da', then?" she questioned. "And thank you, by the way. I feel so much warmer already."
Tilda grinned and nodded. "I'm glad! You looked really cold, huddled up next to the fire in that torn up dress." She tucked a golden curl behind her ear before digging around in the chest again. "And my da's just turned forty-two this year."
"He's not much younger than my da'." Her head tilted as Tilda straightened up once more; this time, she was holding a small belt.
"Here," she said, holding it out to her. "To keep everything gathered around your waist, since your sword belt is a bit too loose for that. How much older is your da', then?"
Doing as instructed with the belt, she fastened it around her waist. She was pleased to find that it made the dress and underdress look like they fit her much better. "He'll be fifty-one on September fifteenth."
"Oh! That's in just a couple of days!"
Her eyes widened. "R-really? It's already halfway through September already?" It felt like just a day or two ago, Bilbo had told her that it was early September… "Yavanna's grace, the time certainly has passed quite quickly…" Shaking her head, she let out a sigh. "What should I do with this, by the way?" she asked, holding up her wadded-up dress.
"Hmm…" Tilda tilted her head as she looked at the wadded-up fabric. "Probably just throw it away. It doesn't look to be in good enough condition to use as scrap material and it's far too ripped up for you to keep wearing it. And it's got all those black stains…Did you roll around in soot?"
Feeling that it would be better to not tell the young girl that the stains were, in fact, from orc blood, Baylee shrugged slightly. "It's more than likely mud," she said instead, following the girl out of the room and towards the stairs. "I've done my fair share of slipping and falling into mud over the course of this trip."
Upon reaching the stairs, she put one hand on the wall before taking the steps a bit slowly; not only were the they steep, but these new clothes hid the steps from her sight. The lack of handrail didn't help either and, as she descended the stairs, she bit her lower lip and hoped that her foot would come into contact with the proper step.
Thankfully, she reached the bottom without issue. Breathing a sigh of relief, she let Tilda take the crumpled dress from her before going over to stand beside her father. He gave her a small smile when he saw that she was in warmer clothes.
"I'm surprised she was able to find you something to wear," he said. Baylee was glad to both hear and see that he was no longer shivering. "I wouldn't think humans would have something hobbit sized in their wardrobe."
"They keep clothes from when they were younger in case they find a way to repurpose them." She glanced across the room, spotting Thorin standing near a window. A small sigh left her mouth and she turned back towards her father. "Have the dwarves been polite so far?" she then asked, her voice quieter.
"They have, yes. A bit grumbly, but still polite. I think once they warm up and get a bit of food in their bellies, they'll be less grumbly."
Her brow rose as she quietly chuckled. "They're dwarves, da'. They're always grumbly, whether it's in attitude or in their stomachs."
Bilbo snorted loudly, drawing the attention of Nori, Gloin, and Bifur who were closest to them. He gave them a quick apology, an attempt at an innocent smile on his lips; it was evidently good enough that the three dwarves turned back around. "You nearly got us in trouble there, dear," he murmured, his brow rising as he looked down at Baylee.
A small pout came to her lips and she lightly nudged him. "Me? You were the one who snorted loudly."
"Because of something you said, dear." Mischief was slowly coming to his face and his voice. "So, it is, indeed, your fault."
She stuck her tongue out at him before turning her attention to the cauldron over the fire. It was just barely steaming and the scent of warm wine, anise, and cinnamon started to fill her nose. Pushing her skirts and petticoats back, she leaned over the hearth and took in a deep breath of the steam. "Oh, that smells like wintertime back home," she murmured.
While the mulled wine smelled good, she couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. Cinnamon and anise could be quite expensive even to those who were well off and, given that Bard and his family seemed to not be well off, she wondered if there wasn't some better way that they could have put the spices to use.
'Perhaps when this is all over, I'll send them a gift for their hospitality,' she thought, 'A very nice gift that is worth all the trouble they're going through to help us.'
Her brows furrowed somewhat as she heard a hiss of pain. Turning, she could see Kili sitting on a chair across the room, his knuckles white as he gripped his knee. Oin was kneeling beside him, looking over the hastily-tended to arrow wound in his thigh, while Fili stood behind Oin, observing the damage. Biting her lip, she went over to see if she could be of any use or if she could provide any moral support.
"It's wedged in there fairly well, lad," Oin was telling the younger prince as she approached. "An' the way it broke off makes it hard for me t' get a good grip on it without makin' the hole bigger."
Kili had his eyes screwed shut in pain. "Don't we have a pair o' tongs or something we could use?" he grunted out. "We have to have something that can help get it out!"
"Tongs are even bigger than Oin's fingers," Fili told him, voice dry. Seeing movement in the corner of his eye, he looked over in time to see Baylee walking up to them.
"How's his leg?" she asked, concern on her face.
Fili shook his head. "Oin can't get the arrow out. His fingers are too big."
Her eyes widened in a mixture of shock and horror. "Th-the arrow is still in his leg?" she squeaked. Rising up onto her tiptoes slightly, she peeked over Oin's shoulder only to wince. Kili's wound was a dark, bleeding mess—it was the first bad wound she had seen on their journey thus far. She was thankful her stomach was empty, otherwise the nausea she felt would have been far worse.
"That…doesn't look good," she mumbled, her face growing a bit pale.
Despite the dreary situation, Oin seemed to perk slightly. "You've got tiny hands, lass!" he chirped. Baylee immediately knew what he was going to say next and dreaded it. "See if you can't reach in there an' get the arrow out for us," he continued.
"O-Oh, n-no, I don't think that'd be a very good idea, Oin," she stammered, her skin paling more now. "I-I might just make things worse." But her words came too late. Oin had already gotten to his feet and had gently nudged her forward.
"It'll be simple," he told her. "Just reach in, grab it, an' pull it straight out—Like bonin' a fish fillet!"
Kili managed to open an eye and he looked at the hobbit lass only to find her quite pale. "We-we can get someone else, Baylee," he said through clenched teeth.
She swallowed hard; his voice was strained thanks to the amount of pain he was in. "I-I'll try," she heard herself say. "It's the least I could do…" Walking closer to Kili, she pushed the sleeve of the dress up a bit more before leaning over slightly. Her nose scrunched up when she reached forward, but she paused when her hand was halfway to his thigh. "I-I'm about to reach in, so brace yourself," she warned.
Kili stiffly nodded.
Gathering up her courage, Baylee did her best to be careful as she started to feel around inside the wound for the broken bit of arrow. She closed her eyes and told herself to think of it as if she were trying to push some cloves of garlic into a roast, but it was of little use. It was when she started to breathe through her nose to keep herself from gagging that her fingertips brushed against pointed bits of wood.
"Found it," she mumbled. She pushed her fingers in a bit further, hearing Kili hiss and curse in pain. It was hard to get a good hold on the arrow thanks to the blood soaking both it and her fingers, but, when she dug her nails into the wood, she found that she was able to finally grip it. "Alright, I have got it…Do I pull it out slowly? Or quickly?" She wasn't even certain if she'd be able to pull it out at all, given how deeply it was embedded.
"Try an' pull it out in one swift tug," Fili instructed. "It'll cause the least amount of pain."
"You're jokin', right? It'll still hurt like he—" Kili was silenced as his brother abruptly forced a belt into his mouth; the leather had been doubled over to provide extra cushion for his teeth when he bit down.
Baylee glanced up at Kili's face. "On the count of three, then," she told him. "One—Two—" Without waiting for 'three', she yanked as hard and as fast as she could on the bit of arrow. She toppled backwards onto her bum and Kili let out a howl of pain that, thankfully, was muted by the belt.
"Aha! The wee lassie got it!" Oin declared, a grin spreading across his face. "I knew you could do it, lassie!" He would have given her a hearty thump on the back if she had been standing, but he instead hurried over to Kili to tend to the bleeding, but now empty, wound.
Baylee stared at the arrow and her hand in a mixture of horror and confusion; while both were covered in fresh, bright red blood, there were also streaks of a thick, black substance. "U-Um, Oin…? Wh-what is this black stuff?" she squeaked, keeping her arm held out at a distance.
Oin, though, couldn't hear her; and even if he could, he was too distracted with flushing the wound out so he could sew it up.
Fili came over and helped her onto her feet. "It looks like globs of coagulated blood if you ask me," he told her, a bit of disgust on his face. "Sometimes, if a wound like that isn't treated right away, the blood can—" He blinked, falling quiet as Baylee reached up and put a clean finger against his lips, silencing him.
"While I appreciate your wound knowledge," she told him, her face having gone quite pale now, "my disposition is not quite iron enough to handle both the gory sight of my hand and hear about how there are blood clots on it as well."
"Sorry," he said with a small chuckle. "I forget that you're not really used t' this sort o' situation." He looked around, trying to see if he could find one of the humans so that Baylee could get her hand cleaned off. "To be honest, I'm not entirely used to this specific situation, but I am used to gore more than you…"
Before he could spot any of the humans, Bard came from around a corner. "You look ready to faint, little mistress," he told Baylee, setting a rag over her hand. With a barrier between their hands, he took the arrow from her before gently wiping away whatever blood remained on her skin.
"Th-thank you," she said, managing to muster up a thankful smile. "For a few minutes, I thought I was about to faint…Thank Yavanna I didn't, though. Otherwise that arrow would still be in Kili's leg." She watched as Bard used the cloth to clean off the broken arrow, his brow rising slightly.
"This is an orcish arrow," he murmured, more to himself than to her.
She nodded. "They got him when we were fleeing downriver," she explained. "I'm just glad it didn't stick into his bone or anything…I don't think I would have been able to get it out then." Rubbing the side of her neck, she then glanced around. "…Is there anything you and your children need help with, by the way? I know there probably isn't much I could do, given my size, but if it would help lessen the burden of having us all here…"
Bard glanced around; for the most part, the dwarves all seemed to be content and quiet as they stayed in their spots, warming up. Sigrid and Tilda were off to one side, quietly talking with each other while Bain was stirring the mulling wine, which was just steaming a bit more now. "For now, no. Please rest, little mistress. Perhaps when it's closer to supper, we could use your assistance, though." He gave her a tired smile. "I've heard that hobbits know how to stretch food out so that even the most meager rations can feed a crowd."
"Oh, yes, we can," she chuckled. "So many of us have large families, it's a skill that we're practically born with."
"That's good to hear, because I'm afraid we may be in need of such a skill tonight," he admitted.
She nodded in understanding. "I'm sure I'll be able to come up with something," she assured him. "If I'm allowed to help, that is."
"Oh, I'm sure you will be," he chuckled, glad to see that the color was returning to her face. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there are a few things downstairs I need to attend to."
As Bard walked off, Baylee headed over to the window where Thorin was standing. When she approached, he glanced down at her and a small smile came to his lips.
"I was wondering when you would come over, Mouse-Lass," he said. Reaching over, he slipped his arm around her shoulders and brought her close to him. "How is Kili doing? I saw you helping with his leg. I would have gone over myself, but I'm afraid I would have just gotten in the way, especially when he started cursing."
Her nose scrunched up slightly. "He should be doing better now that the arrow is out." Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against him. "I'm surprised he was able to walk and swim with it having been in his leg for so long. I guess it just helps to prove how hardy dwarves are, though." She smiled when she felt Thorin gently rub her shoulder.
"And it has also proven how hardy you've become as well," he gently teased. "I saw what Oin had you do. I don't think you would have been able to stomach that sort of thing at the beginning of our journey."
She quietly laughed. "I hardly stomached it just now. That…is the first truly gory wound I've seen. My eye was bad, yes, but I only saw it once and even then, it wasn't close up, nor was I poking my fingers into it." A shudder ran through her body at the thought of how she had dug around in Kili's thigh. "I'm afraid I wouldn't make for a very good healer."
"For simple cuts and bruises, you would make for a fantastic healer. But, yes, we'll be leaving more serious injuries to Oin." A soft sigh left his mouth and he looked out of the window once more. Poking out above the rooves of the city, the top half of the Lonely Mountain could be seen against the blue-grey sky. "We're so close…"
She opened her eyes and looked out of the window. The sight of the mountain was both awe-inspiring and fear-inducing. That mountain had featured prominently in so many of her nightmares over the last few months that her insides started to feel jittery with anxiousness. Even more so due to it being identical to the mountain in her nightmares.
She quickly closed her eyes again, turning her head and nuzzling into Thorin. "We'll be there before you know it," she told him, her voice a bit muffled.
"And with luck, that vile dragon will be nothing more than a pile of bones." Tearing his gaze away from Erebor, he looked down at his future queen. "Are you warm enough, by the way? We could go stand beside the fire if you'd like."
A smile came to her lips. "I'm fine," she answered. "The clothes Tilda gave me are quite comfortable and warm."
"Tilda?"
"The youngest girl."
"Ah, yes, her—I saw her leading you away upstairs. I'm surprised she was able to find something that would fit you."
"The people here keep clothes they grow out of just in case they can pass them along to someone else or repurpose them."
He nodded in understanding, shifting his weight to his other leg. "Well, regardless, I'm thankful they were able to find something for you. Your dress wasn't exactly in the best of conditions."
She quietly laughed, her brow rising as she glanced up at him. "That's putting it mildly, Oakenshield. It was so stained and worn, it was ready to fall apart if someone so much as looked at it wrong. It wouldn't have even made for good rags." She watched as the slightest hint of a mischievous smile came to his lips.
"Well, if I had known that, I would have given it a wrong look ages ago," he quietly teased. His smile broadened when he saw her cheeks grow dark red and he let out a small laugh as she lightly smacked his chest.
"Makes me wonder if I wasn't the only one who hit my head in those barrels," she chuckled, her brow raised as she shook her head.