And thus exam season is over and I haven't updated in over a month - I am the best, most reliable, talented writer ever. Note sarcasm.

I present you with more fluff disguised as *plot*. Props to you for reading this far, yo.


The day drew to a steady close, the sun turning the sky purple beyond the trees. There was an easy flow of conversation between the dwarves, the air relaxed and slowly cooling. Bilbo and Gandalf talked quietly between themselves, sounding wistful about long gone fireworks. I slumped forward against Shortstack's mane, abandoning her reins to hug her neck and entertain the idea of falling asleep on her and not falling off somehow.

Riding a pony for an entire day with little pause and nothing but sightseeing a bunch of the same trees was possibly the most boring day I've had. And I'd done an eight hour shift at the bookshop on a Monday. I was sorely missing my phone, the flat, the pub, any sort of timepiece, my toilet… hell, even my job. I hadn't seen my friends and god knows if the world was moving on without me or not. Maybe it had just stopped, pausing for me to get back to it… but probably not.

Bubbling up around me was the talk of making camp in a clearing off the East Road somewhere for the night. Try as I might, I couldn't even muster up the enthusiasm to get off this pony and get some shut-eye, not even to put my two cents in. The train of ponies ended up trailing off into a clump of trees picked out by the young, blonde dwarf - why I don't know, it looked the same as any other clump of trees.

"You going to get off your pony tonight, lass, or are you going to sleep there?" I turned my head where it rested between Shortstack's ears to glare at the hatted dwarf next to me. He looked at me expectantly and that's when it hit me that everyone else had already dismounted and leashed their ponies to the trees for the night. Bofur held out a hand for Shortstack's reins which I let him have with a flex of my stiff fingers.

"Just… give me a minute, a'right?" I mumbled. I proceeded the lengthy process of removing my feet from the peg things and leaning sideways until I could put one foot down. For the next five minutes, I was stuck until I could lift my other leg over, all the while trying to look casual about the fact I still had it hooked over the saddle like it was a pose I took up all the time. It wasn't. It hurt. I never did gymnastics as a child.

When I could finally trundle over to the fire they'd set up, it was with a stiff, bow-legged waddle, some ungainly grunting and some manoeuvring around sticks and wet patches like they were a particularly difficult obstacle course. Only Gandalf looked on in amusement from where he sat on a rock, eyebrows raised - the dwarves and Bilbo were too busy slurping at bowls of stew to make fun of my predicament, thank god.

"You look rather contrite, my dear. I couldn't begin to fathom why," Gandalf spoke as I reached him, his beguiling smile betrayed by that mischievous twinkle in his eye. He leaned on his staff and looked at me expectantly, as if I could even indulge his humour while struggling out of the pack on my back.

"Don't be cute, old man. Happy campers ain't exactly my favourite pastime." I grunted, shoving the bag down and setting out my bedroll.

"And why ever not? It's a very good evening, after all." He seemed intent on making small talk. I was intent on going to bed.

"Because." Grunt. Open bag. "There are bugs." Proceed to tug blankets out of bag. "There is damp grass. There is no civilization." Lay out bed. Groan internally when you realise you did not think to buy a pillow at Bywater. "No modern technology, no friends. Oh, and yes, this time it's indefinite." Throw your bag aside with a grunt worthy of an ox. "Why. Ever. Not." I mocked.

"Civilization will be reached, Miss Elliot. You will be in the company of the council, soon enough," Gandalf murmured, voice lower as the dwarves finished up their dinner and began moving around.

"That's not the kind of civilization I meant. I mean one with cars and electricity, one with proper sanitation and road networks," I grouched. I had dumped myself cross-legged on my pile of blankets after my inward fit over a pillow and was now attempting to pull the ankle boots off my sore feet.

"This sounds most peculiar, and I won't pretend to even know half of what you speak." He was angling for something, I was figuring that much out. But I was far too tired to have a little word dance with a wizard.

"That's because your civilization," I added air quotes for effect, "is about five hundred years behind us. This whole schtick with the horses and the swords and the grand adventures into unknown territory? That's old hat for my world. We get to play in our big boy sandpit with guns and space and selfies."

After I had finished ranting, I realised the clearing was quieter and there were a few more eyes in our direction than before. A few of the dwarves were giving me curious stares from their perches around the fire, a large ginger one holding up two bowls in our direction, seemingly frozen in observation.

"Ah, thank you, Bombur. A fine end to a first day," Gandalf announced, taking the bowls from the dwarf. It seemed he had broken the spell the conversation had over them as they all went back to their own conversations.

"Cheers," I replied, as sarcastically as I could while willing the heat in my cheeks to go down through the power of thought alone. I took my bowl and knocked it against Gandalf's then downed it. I didn't much fancy pausing to taste what passed for stew in such a crude place. The wizard himself ate his stew with a much more refined style - probably as wizards are wont to do, eating like a dwarf wouldn't preserve their enigmas for long.

By the time we had finished our own supper, most dwarves had moved away from the fire and began going about their duties - whatever those were, I didn't care to give it much thought as long as they didn't expect me to partake. I shuffled under my blankets, too tired to care about sleeping in my clothes as they were. The fire itself dwindled, leaving the clearing darker and that much cooler. Bilbo sat closest to it, wrapped in his own blanket and staring into its embers. Probably feeling as fed up as I already was.

"This was a most enlightening conversation, Miss Elliot. I hope to look forward to more insight into your world, good night." Gandalf rose from his seat, passing his bowl off to a dwarf and wandering off to do mysterious wizard things. I, meanwhile, realised finally what he had been after the whole time. Information. Hindsight is 20/20, after all.


The morning after was a quick start, even more aggressive hustle and bustle than there had been the day before. The dwarves hurried about, repackaging their things and rushing off to perform chores. I myself had been awoken violently by the amount of them stepping over me until one tripped over my legs. He was lucky I was in such a stupor because I still had no idea who the culprit was. I could catch snippets of conversation as I unsteadily rolled my bedding back up and laced my boots: directions this, map that, timing there.

And then it was back in the saddle again, without so much as being allowed to wash my face or brush my teeth. I don't know where I would have found the water but that's not the point, really. The point was that morning breath was foul and I was still wearing make-up from the day before - my hygiene was ruined.

We made our way back onto the east road. Well, they called it road and I called it a dirt path, laughed at them with all the venom of a non-morning person and promptly got told to shut up. So there I sulked, arms crossed and arse aching with every jostle of Shortstack's back. It was becoming an unfortunate trend.

"Can we take a break soon?" I called out, after maybe three solid hours of pouting. Our little entourage was passing through another sunny field of grass and the next tree line beyond looked like a blessing of shelter and privacy.

"Why ever for?" Asked the dwarf next to me. One of the 'ri brothers, I believed; the older, doting one though I still had no idea as to the prefix of his name. I really needed to get to work on knowing their names - it didn't seem all that hard when I was a kid.

"The pony riding is doing wonders for my bladder," I replied dryly. I'd been keenly feeling the urge since about three miles back (or there about, my sense of distance was purely determined by Google maps).

"Ah, yes," He looked mildly uncomfortable, "That would be a problem. Don't mind the matter, this meadow would make for a lovely spot of lunch anyhow. I'll go see what I can do." With that, he put his pony into a brisker pace towards the front where the Important Persons were allowed to ride (see: Thorin).

We did turn out to have some sort of picnic in the shade of the tree line, as of the old dwarf's strangely kind intervention on my behalf. While the dwarves sat cross-legged next to their mounts, eating dry bread and cheeses and ruminating on hunting for a fresh dinner, I slunk off into the forest. But saying that makes it seem as though it were a difficulty to escape their presence - when in all actuality, it seemed you could just announce that you're taking a piss and stroll into the trees and be done with it. The wonders of communication.

The piss itself deserved special mention just for how annoying it is not to have a porta-potty on hand.

I returned in time to not have to bother with the packing away of the food supplies, thank god, but luckily I was there to receive some heckling before we made way.

"Did you have a nice, long lavatory break, lass?" Baldy called as he saw me emerge, a shit-eating grin just visible.

"Oh, yes, the trees and dirt were lovely," I quipped back, feeling brave enough to look him in the eye, "I shouldn't be surprised none of you took the liberty, I guess you heathens just go down your leg when you feel like it."

"I can't say the same for dwarves, but I sure don't!" Bilbo's reply came from somewhere behind a pony at the back.

"Aye, that we do. And then we ring our trousers out over people while they sleep." I stared in disbelief at Bofur's entirely serious face for a moment after he announced this, before he cracked a mischievous smile and hopped up onto his pony.

"Remind me never to sleep near you," I muttered, clambering onto Shortstack with all the grace of a beached whale. It took so long that I, again, was left at the back of the party with my unlikely ally in pissing: the older 'ri brother. I'll learn his name someday.


We ended up pulling to a stop early in the afternoon, in a small clearing next to the road. The dwarves cited something about hunting for fresh meat and that fourteen miles wasn't that bad of a distance, honestly. I just reckoned that those earlier comments about my bladder were coming back to bite them and they all needed to empty a trouser leg.

I would be proud to announce that my final dismount of the second day did not take as long as the day before. In a staggering two and a half minutes, I was on flat ground with both legs on one side of my pony. Only this time, the dwarves definitely noticed and stood around, making large and obvious bets on my falling off. Thorin made grumpy sounds and reeled off their duties, then looked at me while they all ran off with their tails between their legs like he wanted to make me do ten years hard labour.

"You know, I'm not sure our king is too fond of you," the elder dwarf from earlier told me conversationally, appearing at my side with a blackened, old teapot and a stack of cups.

"Should I be shocked? I'm pretty sure the impression I made predicted this like a brick to the face," I muttered - and then instantly regretted it. I was, yet again, mouthing off in the face of someone not jeering or glaring at me.

"Yes, yes, it did," He confirmed for me, with no small measure of bluntness. "but I'm sure the concern for our quest was rather touching." Was that… condescension?

"Dori, get that tea on the fire," Someone shouted to the left of us and then he ambled off with his stack of cups waving precariously in the air. Oh. Dori. That seemed… obvious, in retrospect of course.

I trailed after him, having nothing to do myself, and sat down near the fire. If I wasn't too proud to do grunt work in a realm that all but kidnapped me, I'd be asking for some chores just to not be the one sitting around doing nothing. But I was too proud, and I would always be bitter about these circumstances so sitting and staring at nothing was still the better alternative.

Until the hunting party came back in a wild flurry of noises and fussing and dumped a dead-eyed doe right in front of me, next to the fire.

"Oh my god!" I shouted, shoving my fists into my eyes as if I could remove the image of a dead deer scant meters away from me forever. "Warn a girl before you pull this kind of crap!"

"Oh, don't whine so much." I could hear Baldy snapping somewhere behind me, "you act like ye've never seen an animal before it goes in yer stew before."

"In my world, we don't usually parade around the dead animals we eat," I gritted out between firmly clamped teeth. I felt sick.

"And where else do you suppose we ought to prepare it?" He mocked.

"Not in front of me! I have a weak stomach!" At that, I heard someone sharpen a knife and immediately retched. Eyes still closed, I scrambled up and away from the campfire blindly. I didn't stop my wild stumbling around until the sounds of the knife couldn't reach me.

When I looked up, I was a good distance away from the fire and everyone else and had put the group of ponies between me and them. Good. I didn't want to be around those barbarians anyway. I was going to go vegan if I got back home. When I got back home.

I decided it was as good as any a place to sit down, put my head between my knees and dry cough my way through my gag reflex, eyes watering as I continued to heave up nothing.

"You alright, lass?" The voice sounded distinctly like Balin. I knocked my head back against the tree I'd leaned up against and turned to face him where he hovered by the ponies.

"I'm fine."

"You had us all convinced you'd run off in a fit of tears or sickness," He just replied evenly though I was trying my hardest to be curt and unapproachable.

"Sickness maybe, tears never." I snorted derisively.

"Oh aye? Fancy yerself a tough lass?" He smiled, taking my increased sentence length as permission to join me on the forest floor.

"Yeah, I'm a real hard man when I'm not confronted with a dead deer," I muttered, trying to find the same humour in this that he was.

"A curious thing."

"What?" I asked, when he didn't elaborate.

"Your world. For all you claim that this is old hat, you say you've never seen a dead animal." Balin mused.

"Yes… everyone wants to know about my world." I grumped, crossing my arms. But I continued anyway. "It's true. All I've seen of dead animals is Watership Down and that was a cartoon. It scared me so bad, I used to refuse to look out car windows in case I saw any roadkill. Does the dog die dot com was, like, my best friend... what?"

"You're speaking in riddles, lass." He raised an eyebrow at me, pointedly.

"Right, yeah. Watership down was a… story… about rabbits who go on a quest to find a new home... oh my god, I just realised something." It was like The Hobbit - but rabbits, and way less kid friendly. "Anyway! The rabbits die. Horribly. But you get to see it in graphic detail because our stories are told in… moving images?" I stumbled over the words, trying to explain the multitude of technology I was used to to the equivalent of a man from the dark ages wasn't the easiest thing.

"Go on." At least he sounded interested even if he couldn't understand.

"Er… cars are like mechanical carts? Except way faster… and not wooden. They sometimes run over animals-"

"You mean, like war chariots?" Balin interrupted, brow furrowed.

"No, those are way ancient. Just, think of the most technologically advanced thing you know, put it in a peaceful setting and then multiply it and add electricity and motors and such and such. I don't know how cars work, actually. I just sit in them." I frowned. Wait, did cars have electricity? Andrew had once told me that his car's battery had run flat but I didn't know if he was messing with me or not.

Balin looked at me consideringly for a second, still deep in thought, obviously.

"And the comb thing?" He asked eventually.

"You mean com. Stands for… I don't know. Does the dog die was a website… a er, information sharing… thing that told you what moving image thing showed animals dying."

Yeah. Nailed it.

"Do you, perhaps, mean a book?" Or not.

"No! Books are old, man. Websites are like the cars I mentioned." I then made a brum brum noise. It felt appropriate. Balin just frowned at me and opened his mouth to reply.

"Dinner's ready, ladies and gentlemen! If you think you can handle it," Bofur called from beyond the ponies, Baldy's booming laughter following it.

"Perhaps… the others would be more amenable to you, if you weren't so brash," Balin murmured, staring out across the forest at the campfire.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped, twisting to look at him as he pushed to his feet.

"I mean that you can be perfectly pleasant to talk to when you aren't being rude." He replied bluntly, levelling me with A Look and then extending a hand to help me up.

I followed Balin back to the fire where, thankfully, there were just roasted meats and vegetables and not any signs of the carcass. I avoided the other side of the fire, anyway, knowing I'd lose my appetite if I caught a glimpse of any blood over there. All sixteen of us had gathered around the fire tonight and the chatter was loud between mouthfuls of deer. I really did try not to think about what I was eating that night, either.


And endeth the chapter where everyone has an angle about our world - I don't know what everyone else thinks of those parts or how slow this is going but I'm... probably going to change it. Yeah. Interactions consisting of explaining modern things to dwarves are not the most exciting, ha ha...

So, er, lemme know what you guys think or I could work it out for myself eventually, ether either.

Thanks!