Bilba doesn't speak to Fíli for two days after their confrontation and that is not for lack of trying on Fíli's part. He had known he had gone too far and touched on something the hobbit wasn't ready to admit had happened to her as soon as the words had left his mouth. It does her no good to bury it or ignore it as she does, but Thor always taught him that it was better to acknowledge and find ways to live with such things than to hide from them. Dwarrow are built for battle, however, raised to it and no dwarf leaves their parents home unable to use at least two weapons with some measure of proficiency. Hobbits are not made for war, they are made to love and nurture all things growing and green. They are a gentle people from a gentle place, and they know nothing of the world beyond their borders should they not seek to learn it.
Few do.
At least Adra and Ori are still talking to him, though neither of them has been quiet in their disapproval of the verbal jabs he had taken at Bilba. Those jabs have had more than one consequence. The first being that Dwalin, Nori and his uncle have decided that Fíli has been allowed to be lax in his own practice for too long. They have all sparred with him over the last two days, holding nothing back, and he has found himself on his back gasping for air more than once. Fíli is good, Dwalin and Thorin have trained him to be, but they have decades of experience on him and they are making certain that he knows it. The second, of course, is that Adra has insisted Bilba learn to properly use the little sword Gandalf had given her, much to the hobbit's obvious displeasure. Fíli suspects that part of the reason Adra chooses to ride with him each day is to get away from Bilba's increasingly sharp tongue. Bofur bears up under it better than any of them and so he spends most of the day riding with her, when she isn't sulking near Legolas that is.
Ultimately Bilba starts talking to Fíli again when he lands with a hard crack on a stone as Nori tosses him. The lithe dwarf is stronger than he looks and light on his feet. He also seems to have picked up a few tricks from Legolas, who he will goad into a fight most evenings once he has finished bouncing Fíli on his head a few times.
"That looks like it hurt," she comments, a little too gleefully for his tastes. He grunts. "Good."
"Maybe you should give it a try," he gets awkwardly to his feet, aware that Nori is watching him with an arched brow and if this were a battle he would be dead already, "see how long you last." She laughs.
"I wouldn't manage more than a second," she says, almost loftily and he has no idea why she thinks that is a good thing, "and I haven't fallen so low as to try, either. You should keep at it, though. You never know, once Nori has broken a few more rocks with your thick skull he might have finally knocked your brain hard enough to make it actually work."
She smiles that barbed little smirk at him and limps closer to the fire. She isn't faring so well in her training either, he thinks with a grin, but Adra certainly goes easier on her than Nori, Dwalin and Thorin do on him. Her glee at the thorough thrashing he is given on a nightly basis, however, is the signal that while she may not have forgotten what he said, she has become willing to move past it. It doesn't mean that the others ease up on him at all, in fact over the six days that it takes them to reach the foot of the Misty Mountains they push him harder than ever.
On the seventh day, however, things change. They have only been on the road for an hour, the sun still low in the early summer sky, when Gandalf reins in his horse and halts. The younger members of the party don't notice to start with, Adra is deep into a spirited description of the great throne room of Durin that only serves to make Fíli more desirous of seeing it one day. If the look on Ori's face is anything to go by, he feels the same way and Fíli feels an odd pang of gratitude towards Bilba for all her questions about Khazad-dûm. He's been reluctant to ask, reluctant to remind Adra that he was raised so far from the stone that has protected his ancestors and that, if not for this quest, he and Thorin may never have left Bree.
"Mithrandir?" The elf's voice startles them all into silence. Legolas has rarely spoken since they left Rivendell and he clearly feels out of place among them. Not that Fíli blames him, he's become very familiar with the sensation since leaving Bree and for a time he had the discomfort of being among his own kind and still feeling isolated. At least in Rivendell Elladan and Elrohir had already decided to take him in hand. Fíli has made a half-hearted attempt to be more welcoming but Thorin's eyes are always hard when he tries, and Legolas doesn't seem to welcome his company either. The only ones he really speaks to are Gandalf and, surprisingly, Bilba. So naturally, while Bilba is with Fíli, Adra and Ori, Legolas has withdrawn to the wizard's company. The wizard, who now stares ahead unseeing with his staff gripped tightly in one hand and his reins loose in the other. The group halts to look at the wizard, utterly still but for the breeze that ruffles his long hair and the billowing sleeves of his robes.
"We go north," Gandalf says after a moment, "it seems our destination may well be Dol Guldur after all." Some emotion Fíli doesn't understand flickers across Legolas' face, but he doesn't have time to examine it because as quickly as it comes it has gone again.
"He passed this way?" Thorin demands, his eyes and face oddly intent.
"Yes, although we are still some distance behind him and not within a day of our position. Simply close enough that I can feel the Jewel's passing."
"Then we need to increase our pace," Thorin snarls. Fíli isn't sure why he expects Gandalf to disagree, but he is disappointed that, after a brief pause, the wizard does little more than nod. They nudge their mounts a little faster, urging them into a pace that does little to encourage conversation and yet doesn't seem to make the mountains come any closer any faster. The peaks have loomed over them for days and Fíli begins to wonder, as four more days pass after their slight shift in direction, whether they will ever reach the Mahal damned things.
Fíli is surprised, then, when half way through that fourth day they find themselves part way up a mountain and at the mouth of a pass that seems barely wide enough for two horses to walk next to each other unburdened. Thorin glances at the sky, judging the position of the sun, and then looks down the narrow pass which has already fallen into shadow. A scowl crosses his features, but then he is ordering them all to dismount and make camp.
"Should we not push on?" Legolas demands. "Since our task is of some urgency it seems foolish to waste three hours or more of sunlight."
"The most treacherous sections of this pass are on this side of the mountains," Nori replies blandly before Thorin can growl his response. "We'd rather not lose our ponies, or ourselves, over the edge of a ledge if we can help it." The elf tilts his head in acknowledgement, then lets the matter drop although Fíli has no idea whether it is out of graciousness or simply that he has no desire to continue the conversation.
Legolas is not the easiest of travelling companions, even for Bilba who he seems inclined to think well of. Fíli isn't even entirely sure he understands Legolas' objections to coming with them or getting to know them. Elladan and Elrohir have proven the dwarrow and elves can get along and even have some fun together. Perhaps the twins are the exception, however, and while he knows that it is impossible to get along with everyone you meet, he still finds himself hoping Legolas might make a little bit of effort, for his own sake as much as for the rest of the group. Legolas' comments, however, often make it clear that he has only ever worked with other elves and that seems to be true across all of the other races as well. Fíli has noticed, since leaving Bree, that everyone very much seems to keep themselves to themselves, something he had thought unique to the Shirefolk. Bree, it would seem, is more unusual than he had imagined.
They may have stopped several hours early, but Thorin does not allow them to sit idle. All of their equipment is to be inspected, from their socks to the tents and cooking gear. Once they have crossed the mountains it will be some time until they are likely to have a chance to make such repairs again. The shoes of both horses and all of the ponies are checked more than once by various members of their party, Fíli included, their weapons are cleaned and sharpened and while they train Thorin orders that it be limited and light. The next two days will be difficult, and he wants them well rested.
In the midst of it all Fíli finds himself watching Bilba. He has no real idea why, simply suspects that it is a habit long formed from looking out for first Kíli, then Ori and finally having been ordered to watch over Bilba as they all travelled to Rivendell. He always has half an eye on her, he realises, but she is very likely to be the most vulnerable member of their company and someone has to look out for her. Technically, that job falls to Adra and her uncles, as it would have had their collection of her gone to plan although they probably would have had a contingent of warriors with them as well. He may only have known Bilba for a few weeks longer than Adra has, however, but Fíli has a far clearer idea of how she feels about this trip than his cousin does. He's only surprised that she hasn't tried to slip away at least once already.
His need to watch her, whatever the reason may be, means that he spots her lifting some of the dried stores and slipping them into her pack. He could, and probably should, draw his uncle's attention to the whole thing and let Thorin deal with it. He chooses not to. His reasons aren't really all that complicated. Firstly, he knows that if he tells Thorin his uncle will want to know why Adra didn't spot it. Fíli suspects that Adra's instructions and Thorin's expectations of her role don't even come close to matching. Adra's job is to protect Bilba, her person and her innocence. This isn't something that his people are usually concerned about, and the hobbits who live in Bree tend to be more lenient in the matter as well. There are strict protocols in the Shire, from what he remembers of Rosie Chubb's half-drunk lecture on the subject one evening, and so Bilba must always have another female with her. Fíli suspects that his uncle, and everyone else, expects there to be more to it than that. The second reason is that if Thorin decides to handle it the situation will likely end badly. Bilba is not a dwarrowdam. She has fire, certainly, but she lacks the stone-headed conviction that all dwarrow possess in large quantities. She is much easier to intimidate than any dwarf, even if she is more stubborn than any hobbit Fíli has ever come across.
"Don't even consider it," Fíli breathes as he crouches near her on the pretence of examining her little sword. It's in perfect shape, of course, but it never hurts to check.
"Consider what?" She asks, eyes wide with false innocence and Fíli checks to make sure no one is looking before he flips back the flap of her pack to expose the food she has slipped in there. It is gratifying to see her flush under his gaze.
"Running," he hisses. "The passes are safe enough usually, but uncle says that they are difficult to navigate and there are hidden Goblin doors everywhere. It didn't go well for you last time, Bilba, and there won't be anyone to save you if you get into trouble this time." She glares at him and for a moment Fíli wonders if she will deny everything and go running to the others. Then she smiles a brittle little grin and turns away to continue packing. Fíli has no idea whether she has taken in what he said or not, and he cannot quite bring himself to care either, he has said what he came to and the rest is up to her.
He is startled to catch his uncle's eye when he looks away from the hobbit, her lips pursed in a thin line and her cheeks flushed. Thorin's gaze is hard and he gestures firmly to Fíli to approach. It makes the young dwarf tense, makes him wonder if he has, in fact, done the wrong thing by approaching Bilba himself, even if Thorin has better things to do than watch over Bilba Baggins in her stubborn refusal to do as she must.
"She was planning on running?" Thorin asks, his voice too low to hear or carry. Fíli still glances uneasily at Bilba, better aware than the others that she hears almost as well as elves do. By the time they reach their seventeenth decade most dwarrow have begun to notice a loss of hearing, even among the loud voices of their own kind. Mines, forges and training rings are loud places after all.
She was, he gestures. Thorin arches a brow. She hears almost as well as the elf. Iglishmêk lacks the subtleties of both Westron and Khuzdul, which can both be used to different effect (although the language gifted to them by Mahal is sometimes the only one they can use to make a point sufficiently), but the gestures will get across his meaning well enough. She's guarded with me, you will need to watch her closely. Internally he flinches at the thought that he has just dared to give his uncle something which is near enough an order. He hopes it doesn't show on his face as he meets Thorin's eyes. Far from anger, or even a dressing down for his presumption, his uncle smiles warmly and touches his shoulder.
It shall be done, he signs back. "You handled it well," he says then. "I will speak to those in need of it."
"What was that about?" Ori asks as Thorin marches away, his face set and his hands already moving in Bifur and Bofur's direction. He will risk the language of their hands in front of the elf but has forbidden them all from allowing Legolas to hear Khuzdul. It is an open secret that dwarrow have a language of their own as well as a way of communicating without words, enough outsiders will have come across it over the years after all. Doubtless there are even still a few elves who remember the days of peace and friendship between the two peoples who will have seen and heard it. Trying to hide it all strikes him as a little bit foolish in the grand scheme of things.
"Bilba," Fíli mumbles, coming back to the conversation.
"Ah," Ori scratches at his cheek, leaving a smear of ink behind that would drive Dori to distraction if he were here to see it. "I had wondered how long it would take her," he adds. "Hobbits don't really take part in great deeds."
"No," Fíli grumbles, "they're more stubborn than old Cralto's mules." Beasts which rarely did as their master ordered, let alone the thieves who so often seemed to target the old man's wares.
"Do you blame her?" Ori asks, his normally soft hazel eyes are sharp in a way that makes Fíli think of Nori. "You wouldn't like having the choice taken from you much either," he points out and Fíli feels a twinge of regret for that drunken night in Bree when he had told Ori that one day he would leave to find his One and win them through some great and marvellous deed. Every now and then Ori will remind him of it, and, in this case, Fíli can recognise his point, he definitely wouldn't like being told he had no choice.
"Mahal would never allow it to happen if they weren't designed for one another," Fíli mutters.
"We know that, He's our Maker. She has no such reassurances," Ori reminds him and Fíli nods.
"Lads!" Bofur calls them over to the cook fire for dinner and the subject is set aside for another time, if it ever comes up again at all, and Fíli resolves to keep a closer eye on Bilba. It can't hurt to have someone else watching her, after all.
A.N: This one was only reworked a little bit, Fili is such a clueless doofus sometimes.
I may also have started another story, because seem to have an inability to focus on just one tale at a time.
