"What were you thinking?" Thor demands the following morning. Fíli looks up from the steaming cup of vile tea Gandalf has him drinking. His head aches and there is still a chill in his bones even after a night by the fire wrapped in Bilba's warm, if slightly small, bedroll.
"That pony had most of our supplies," he says, "our food, most of our water skins, the tents and cooking gear."
"All of which can be replaced," Thor responds and it's clear he's angry. Fíli flinches. "We cannot replace you. We've lost Kíli, I could not take losing you as well."
Fíli sighs. His uncle rarely talks about Kíli, in fact, sometimes it is like Thor has forgotten his brother ever existed at all. Fíli knows that this is not the case, Thor mourns for Kíli as he does, but his uncle has never really been one for showing emotion.
"I'm sorry, Uncle," he says, "I thought I was doing the right thing." Thor sighs.
"At least you are alive to learn from your mistake. We will stay here for the day, it is still raining and the last thing you need is another soaking." Fíli feels guilt flood him at the fact that they are losing time due to him and Thor must see the shame on his face because he huffs. "It is not your fault, lad, though my heart could have done without you diving in after the pony, we would have had to stop to search for it in any case. Dwalin and Nori are to head down river to see if they can find anything to salvage from it, tents and stew pots can be replaced, but it is easier if we do not have to."
He leaves Fíli alone then and the young dwarf stares into the murky tea the wizard has brewed for him, sipping and grimacing every now and again. The cave smells vaguely damp, a result of the quantity of wet clothes and bodies that have been in residence overnight. Almost everything is dry now, though the stock of firewood has been severely depleted by the need to keep the fire burning throughout the night, which is something that Balin and Ori have gone to remedy. He is almost glad of Gandalf's orders to keep him out of the rain, otherwise Balin would be here in the warm and dry and Fíli would be getting wet.
"How are you feeling?" Bilba asks as she sits next to him, her arms full of their freshly dried clothing.
"Better, thank you," he replies, surprised at the question, "and I thank you for this." He gestures to the bedroll that is still draped around his shoulders even though he has dry clothes on. To his surprise Bilba flushes.
"I'm not as selfish as all that," she tells him softly, "no matter what some may think." Her words are not directed at him and he is certain, without knowing how, that she is not referring to any of their travelling companions. He watches as she lifts a tunic, fine fingers and sharp eyes examining the fabric meticulously. It is one of Thor's, Fíli realises, and he sees that tear on the hem at the same moment Bilba does. He glances back at the pile of clothes and realises that she is making herself useful by doing their mending. None of them would have asked it of her, the same as they would never have asked her to give up her bedding for Fíli and Thor's sake, but she notices his gaze and her blush deepens. "I have to do something," she tells him.
"No complaints will pass these lips," he smiles. "I wasn't looking forward to having to do it with any anticipation."
"I don't think anyone does," Bilba mutters. "We all take turns at the Great Smial, there's enough there to keep us busy every day of the week." Her breath catches and Fíli realises that he has never spoken to her about her family. He hasn't really spoken to her all that much at all apart from the occasional argument and curt instructions.
"The Great Smial?" He asks, because now he's curious, he doesn't have anything else that he's supposed to be doing and he doesn't have the energy for an argument. "Do you live there with your parents?"
"No," her voice wavers and he has the sinking feeling he has stepped into something delicate. "My mother's family live there. I can't go home until I'm of age in a little over a year. My parents are dead, the Fell Winter took them." Her eyes grow distant. "And you?" She asks abruptly before Fíli can reply to her last statement. "You travel with your uncle, but have you left parents and siblings behind? I think Dwalin mentioned you have a brother."
"My parents died not long after my brother was born," Fíli replies. It doesn't sting to like it once did to tell her that he is an orphan. Bilba will understand that at least. "I was too young to remember them. Until the Fell Winter it was me, Kíli and Thor. Now it's just Thor and I." She makes a soft noise.
"You must miss him," she whispers, her voice carrying sympathy and he does not see pity on her face when he looks at her. Her needle flashes in the firelight as she works, and it occurs to Fíli that they have been travelling together for twelve days and he still knows almost nothing about her.
"I do," he stares back at the fire, not wanting her to see the tears that prickle at his eyes. "He would have loved this. He always talked about leaving Bree and seeing the world, I wanted it as well, but he was so passionate about it. When he- I vowed I would do it for him, in his memory." He and Thor don't talk about Kíli much, his loss is a painful subject for both of them and their friends seem to understand enough to only bring him up on the rare occasion. It comes as a surprise, then, to find that talking about his brother doesn't hurt as much as he had thought it would. It's not easy, as such, but even this small mention is less agonising than he had feared it would be.
"I would have liked a sibling," Bilba says, her voice wistful. "You would think my parents would have had more than one child, mother being one of twelve and father one of six." Fíli nearly chokes on his tea when he hears that. He grew up in Bree so he knows that hobbits carry and birth with much greater ease than dwarrow, but even aware of that the figure seems high. "I might have stayed if I had a sibling."
"Why did you leave?" Fíli asks. He can feel Thor's eyes on them, his uncle is watching with almost hawk-like intensity and Fíli wouldn't be at all surprised if he is listening as well.
"It's complicated," she mutters, picking up a third tunic and frowning at the number of tears. It's one of his, he realises. "And starting to look more than a little bit silly now that I think about it." He waits, he knows he can ask what she means, but part of him fears that asking will put an end to this open moment between them and he has been enjoying the conversation, even with the painful topics that they have touched on. "There's a treaty between the dwarves and hobbits, or the dwarves ruled by the line of Durin anyway."
"Longbeards, mostly," Fíli tells her, "quite a few Broadbeams and Firebeards too." She flashes him a quick smile.
"Anyway, this treaty says that if we call for aid the dwarves have to come." Which makes sense, Fíli knows that the Shire trades regularly with both the Blue Mountains and Khazad-dûm, vast quantities of preserved meats, pipe weed, and other foodstuffs Fíli can't identify from a distance regularly fills wagons destined for those settlements. Sometimes they are hauled by one of the more adventurous families, but more often than not Men take the job since they are better suited for travel. The dwarves could find these supplies elsewhere, of course, but the hobbit's prices are more reasonable than those of Men as they value food, drink and comfort far above gold and gems. "In exchange, however," she continues, "a daughter of the Thain's line must present herself before the throne of Durin on the day she comes of age and offer herself as a bride to cement the alliance." No one has sat on Durin's throne in nearly a thousand years, Fíli knows. "My grandfather is the Thain." She adds.
"But if it's your duty," Fíli begins and stops when she glares at him.
"If my parents had survived the Winter I wouldn't be expected to go," she snaps. "Bagginses don't leave the Shire, Bagginses don't go on adventures." Fíli gives her an amused grin. "Oh, hush," she hisses when the irony of her words hits her. He shakes his head but doesn't stop smiling and after a moment she returns it almost reluctantly.
Dwalin and Nori return several hours before sunset, the rain has finally stopped and given way to the promised warmth of summer. They're both a little damp, but not as wet as they could have been.
"Most of the food was ruined," Dwalin says as soon as they've settled. "We managed to salvage the pots, but the tents and spare gear were gone, probably torn loose and washed further down river."
"We knew that was a possibility," Thor replies. "We've got supplies enough in our packs for a few days and gold enough between us. If we detour to the nearest town, we can resupply."
"That'll be a problem," Nori says. Thor looks askance at him. "Nearest place we might be able to resupply is Rivendell."
Fíli's uncle swears viciously.
