Bilba regrets ever leaving the Shire. The journey had started well enough, she supposes. At least the part between Tuckborough and Bree had all gone according to plan. Everything after that, however, had been a disaster. Far from avoiding her scheduled trip to Moria it would now seem that she has fallen into the kind of company which will ensure that she goes to that cursed mine. She aches in places and ways she had, until now, been unaware it was possible to ache, and this whole endeavour has given her a great dislike for ponies and riding in general. Especially this pony. He seems to take some perverse amount of pleasure in dumping her onto the ground periodically, if the regularity of it and the hideous beast's cheerful snorts when he succeeds are anything to go by. She finds herself very pleased that she didn't bother buying one in Bree.

Then there is Fíli. He had seemed so sweet and caring the night the dwarves had found her, gentle in a way that she had never expected dwarves to be with his smooth, deep voice and kind face. It had all changed the next day with silent indifference first thing in the morning and sullen irritation by the time they stopped for the night. There had been little improvement in their interactions over the following days. Fíli is young for a dwarf, she knows, she has overheard enough conversations to know that, like her, he is not of age and, like her, this is the first time he has left home. He doesn't speak to her much at all, and when he does, he shows much the same impatience as his uncle, who apparently decided that having Fíli watch over her was a good idea.

For the most part Fíli is a quiet, grumpy shadow.

Ori would be no better, he's at least as inexperienced as Fíli and he blushes and stammers every time he talks to her. That, at least, draws his friend out of his silent brooding enough to put a crooked smile on his face. She's even found herself returning it a time or two, though she feels guilty for finding amusement in Ori's discomfort. Were it not for the similarity of their names and the genuinely fond way they behave together Bilba would have trouble believing that Ori and Nori are brothers. Although she will admit that Ori still makes more effort to make her feel welcome than Fíli, Thor or Balin. Gandalf watches in amused silence half the time or lost in his own thoughts for the rest, and Dwalin and Nori, when not playfully bickering with one another, will sometimes tell her stories of Fíli and Ori when they were young. They refuse, however, to tell her what happened to the Man she stabbed when she asks, though it's obvious that Thor and Gandalf know. She suspects that means he didn't survive and she feels guilty when she thinks of the fact that she hurt him, even though he was aiming to do, and have done, worse to her. Bilba has never had any violent impulses, beyond the occasional childhood temper tantrum and games with her more adventurous Took cousins so her own actions that night had come as a horrible surprise. She would rather not know, come to think of it, and so she determines that she will allow them to protect her and simply not ask again.

Her companions and her mode of transport are not her only source of discomfort. As the days go on she begins to pick up the knack of guiding her pony and staying seated, in that Fíli is helpful even though his patience only lasts for so long. The more comfortable she gets, however, the more they pick up the pace and she wakes almost as sore as she was when she went to sleep. That leaves her peevish and quick to anger, and leads to more than one argument with Fíli when his lack of patience hits the wrong nerve. Her mood is not helped by the weather, overcast days with a cool breeze that only briefly give way to blue skies before the sun is blocked by heavy rain clouds. The resulting deluge leads them to stop early on the first day in an inn which allows her to enjoy a hot bath and a warm bed, and she finds herself hoping that they will remain until the rain ends. Instead they push onwards the following day and they spend a miserably wet night in hastily erected tents, which they had purchased before they left town, under the thickest tree cover they can find and continue the next day. It is still raining, with no sign that it is going to stop and by the time they arrive at the bridge tempers on all sides have run short. The river is running high and Bilba eyes the wooden structure warily.

"Do we cross?" Nori asks, raising his voice to be heard over the roar of the water. "Or do we find somewhere to wait for the rain to slow?"

"We cross," Thor replies, and she stares at him. Bilba has seen what happens when rivers rise in downpours such as this. She has seen bridges washed away and hobbits injured or killed by wood and water.

"I don't like the look of that bridge," Dwalin replies, unknowingly expressing her own sentiments.

"The nearest town is a day and a half behind us," Thor replies, urging his nervous pony forwards. "We do not have the time to go back. Fíli, keep an eye on the girl." Bilba pulls a face and brushes a soaked curl out of her eyes so that she can look at Fíli. He looks at least as miserable as she feels, and no less apprehensive.

"You coming?" He calls and nudges the pony with a smirk, obviously pushing his concerns to the side in favour of getting a rise out of her.

It is that smile, more than anything, which gets her to follow and though the bridge creaks under them they are on the other side before she has a chance to think about her nerves. They are quickly joined by Gandalf and the others, leaving only Balin and the pack pony to follow. The wizard looks down at her from under the dripping brim of his pointed and faded blue hat, his lips twisted in an amused grin. She has no idea what, exactly, he finds so amusing about the whole situation and she turns away from him with a huff, her eyes once again seeking out Fíli as they often seem to without her thinking about it. It seems like they are going to get across without incident when the bridge groans and shifts, collapsing as Balin's pony makes it to the other side but dragging the pack pony in.

Dwalin moves instantly, pulling his brother's mount forward and the attention is so focused on the white-haired dwarf that no one notices Fíli moving until Ori screams his name. Bilba's heart leaps into her throat when she realises that he has gone into the water after the pony, though how it could have survived is anyone's guess. She can't see Fíli and from the noise the other dwarves are making they can't either and time seems to stand still as she searches for him until, finally, she spots him clinging to one of the remaining struts near the bank but too far away to make it back. The pony is gone, Bliba knows it will be found down river in a couple of days, and she feels a pang of sorrow even as she reaches for the rope coiled on top of her belongings where Dwalin places it every morning.

"Thor!" She shouts, pointing to Fíli and throwing the rope to the young dwarf's uncle. It only takes a minute for the older dwarf to tie the rope about his waist and the end to his saddle. Dwalin and Nori come forward without prompting to help. Then Thor has followed his nephew into the river, swimming with powerful strokes until he is able to grab Fíli. As soon as they are certain that Thor has his nephew, Dwalin and Nori urge the pony backwards, pulling Thor and Fíli back out of the river. Both dwarves are soaked through and Fíli is shivering with the cold, his lips beginning to turn blue as she shudders in his uncle's tight grip.

"We need to get him dry," Dwalin says. "Nori, do you know anywhere?"

"Aye, I know a place," is the reply, "about half an hour ride away if we can get the lad on a pony."

"Thieves den?" Dwalin asks and Nori laughs.

"No, it's a cave the rangers use when they travel the road towards Rivendell, they won't turn us away if any are there and it's large enough for us and the ponies."

"Lead the way," Thor orders, helping Fíli onto his pony and mounting behind him.

The ride feels like it takes far longer than a mere half hour to Bilba, though they push their ponies as hard as they dare. Nori finds the cave easily, the entrance hidden between two large boulders but Bilba misses it entirely even with her sharper vision. They lead their ponies in and she is relieved to see that the cave is deserted, though the supply of dry firewood suggests that the cave is visited regularly and restocked every time. Further exploration reveals a cooking stand, several pots and a small kettle, and Balin is quick to start a fire in the pit set near enough to the entrance for the smoke to be drawn out but not so near that it is on the earth made wet by the water that runs down the rockface above. Dwalin and Nori begin to help Thor and Fíli which leaves Bilba, Ori and Gandalf with the care of the ponies. Gandalf abandons them to their task quickly, lifting the kettle from the shelf and filling it from one of the water skins before throwing in a pinch of something from a pouch in his bag and setting the kettle over the fire. Ori and Bilba do the best they can with the ponies, but most of their supplies were on the one that went into the river.

"Everything's soaked," she hears Dwalin say. "Nori's blanket, one of my tunics and one of Balin's are dry enough but that won't do a whole lot of good getting you and Fíli warm, Thor."

Bilba looks over and almost immediately wishes she hadn't. Thor and Fíli are huddled near the fire, Fíli in a tunic that is obviously too large, legs and feet unclad, and when the young dwarf shifts she glimpses enough to know that he is completely bare beneath the garment. A flush paints her cheeks at the realisation and she turns her eyes down to her own belongings, the only ones that Dwalin has not seen fit to search through. It makes sense, of course, she's easily the smallest member of their little group. Her bedroll, however, should be dry. It had been used by her mother and aunts, made especially for their trips to Moria, and it rolls into an oilskin bag designed to prevent it from getting too wet during exactly this kind of downpour.

"They can use mine," she pipes up, looking carefully at Dwalin's face. "It's dry, and I'll be well enough for the night."

"We can't ask that of you, lass," he replies, but she can see the relief on his face at her offer, as though he knows she is going to insist on it.

"Well then, it's a good thing I'm offering it. You have to take it, we can't let one of them become ill," she presses. Dwalin does not object again and Bilba resigns herself to a cold night. It is worth it, however, when Ori sweeps her into a bone-crushing embrace in his gratitude and she finds herself sandwiched between Ori and Nori, their bodies radiating heat. She should feel uncomfortable, she thinks, but instead she feels accepted.

It's a surprisingly nice feeling.