Boy, has it been a while. A few months probably. I have been busy for some of it but honestly I did give up this story for dead for a while. I 100% write for myself so when I lost inspiration, I just stopped.
Bad form, I know. But I've found my moxy again so I decided to write some more chapters. I might have kept it to myself but there are a few follows out there for this so I'm doing my due diligence by reviving this.
Here's a nice long chapter for you guys, minimal picky editing and everything.
I woke up sweltering under my mess of blankets with my face firmly pressed into the dirt and not my bedroll. This was why I hated camping. I spluttered, rolling away from the dirt and wiping at the side of my face furiously with my cardigan sleeve.
The day was already sunny and warm, odd for spring, and the dwarves were still sitting on their own bedrolls, slurping away at what I could only describe as gruel. It was probably porridge but I wasn't getting my hopes up this early in the morning.
I turned to the nearest, which happened to be Bombur, and then had to pause to think how to communicate normally. I hadn't been the most eager conversationalist the past few days, not when it didn't include insults or complaining. It made me wonder why on earth I'd gotten a job that involved customer service back home.
"Mornin'," I grunted. Good start, me. Slow progress. Bombur lifted his bowl of porridge in acknowledgement and then passed me another. It looked a little like ground up weetabix and a lot like it could use a healthy dose of sugar. I tried it anyway - it wasn't bad.
It was strangely quiet now that everyone had seemed to settle down after two days travel - the burst of excitement and energy had worn off, evidently. There were murmurs of conversation, slow going and sleepy. The majority of focus seemed to be on Bilbo who seemed rather cheery and awake - what a disgusting morning person.
"I believe we must be getting close to Frogmorton, now, at least within a day or so. I took a lovely long walking holiday over there once; it's a very nice village for the East Farthing. There's an inn I must recommend we stop in, tends to get a bit busy but the second breakfast is marvellous," He was saying to Gandalf and then the tips of his big ears turned bright red when he noticed everyone else had been listening in, too.
"What's the name of this here inn, then?" Bofur asked, voicing all our curiosities.
"The Floating Log," Bilbo replied hesitantly.
"Well, you best hope they got room for sixteen." The hatted dwarf nodded, like he'd decided for us right then and there where our next stop would be. Thorin made no effort to contradict the announcement either way.
When we were about to set off on the road once again, I made sure to linger near the hobbit as he packed up his pack.
"So, you seem to know your way around this place," I tried to approach him as nonchalantly as possible.
"I should hope so, I've lived here my whole life," Bilbo said amiably.
"Do you think there's any streams around here?" After the failed attempt at being a conversationalist, I decided to get to the point.
"The Water is due north but I shan't think we'll go near that until we reach Frogmorton - not unless you want to take a quick hike up there by yourself." The hobbit was annoyingly light-humoured this early in the morning. It really wasn't what I wanted to hear. I groaned loudly. "Why?"
"I really, really need some personal hygiene right now," I complained. Wearing the same clothes for about three days straight and not showering didn't do wonders for your smell. Nor did the lack of proper toothpaste make my teeth feel like pearls.
"You could use my waterskin but we'll be at the village soon, and then you can wash up."
"I guess so." I took the latter part as meaning that I wasn't supposed to ask for his waterskin anyway. I could do that, I was brave, I'd already gone days without a wash anyway.
Five hours later and I was beginning to feel like my constant "Are we there yet?"s were putting a strain on the company. A tenuous, murderous strain. Every time I opened my mouth, those closest to me flinched and I could hear Baldy's teeth grinding away at nothing a few ponies ahead. The dwarf with an axe in his head was clenching his reins so tightly the leather could probably crease permanently.
It was a very fun game.
"If this village don't appear in the next hour, I'm going to tie her to a tree and leave her there." I could hear in front of me, in that distinct scottish growl.
"Why, Master Dwalin, is it getting on your nerves?" Another, more jovial voice asked, one of the younger ones I knew but I all I could see of him was the fingers he'd jammed into his ears. But it didn't matter because now I'd finally remembered Baldy's name! It's not important that it took four days and someone else to say it.
"That's an understatement," Dwalin replied.
Lucky for Dwalin - and probably for me and my wellbeing too - as we crested a hill we saw a sprawling collection of buildings between the East Road and The Water below us. There were a collection of cheers and sighs of relief and everyone spurred their ponies on down the hill.
The village of Frogmorton was devoid of the hobbit-holes and meadows of Hobbiton, and the tightly packed bustle of Bywater. The houses were spread evenly across the road and I could see that the small cobblestone paths towards the water lead through a small market. Hobbits meandered around the buildings, casting us odd looks as we approached.
It was obvious why, though. If you were a quaint, west country folk enjoying an afternoon walk, you'd be shocked to see some sixteen ponies pulling up into your village. Especially when thirteen of them are heavily armoured dwarves, one's a wizard, one's supposed to be a highly respectable Hobbit, and the last is some strange girl with pink hair. Now that I'd thought about it, I wasn't so sure that that inn was going to serve us.
We dismounted our ponies - and when I say we, yes, I do mean everyone else hopped off theirs and I fell off Shortstack sideways - and lead them through the village, pretending not to notice the long looks. Bilbo was at least somewhat amiable, casting nervous and incredibly awkward greetings to other hobbits as he went. The ponies were left round the back of The Floating Log, where the inn's stable was far too small and made the ponies look like a pen of animals at a farming market. Kind of went with the whole country feel to the place.
The inn itself was large, though filled to the brim with tiny tables and chairs and a low bar manned by only one hobbit. The patrons themselves were few and far between, probably because it was early afternoon still, and seemed to scare themselves half to death when they saw our impressive entourage storm the place. And when I said our, I meant the tall one with the pointy hat and the ones with weapons - Bilbo and I were quite normal in comparison.
"Excuse me, Miss, do you have room to house sixteen for a night?" Balin approached the bar first, addressing the hobbit lady who had all but forgotten that she was wiping down the counter.
"Only if you don't mind doubling up," she said quickly enough, recovering from staring at Gandalf to address the dwarf in front of her.
Balin cast the rest of us a quick look, long enough for some non-committal shrugs to be given, and agreed to pay out for the rooms. Our rooms were, straightforwardly, two through to nine and we were given a set of keys - though none of them were labelled so how we were to tell the differences I didn't know.
"You can go get settled in now, if you want. We start serving afternoon tea soon, and then dinner is at six. I'll bring you all some fresh linens in a jiffy." The girl smiled congenially, counting her coin with admiring eyes.
With that, there was a hustle and bustle that I was caught up in - one I didn't understand at all, only that we were outside with the ponies and my arms were being laden with packs and bags. Through the inn I was herded and up the stairs, where our troop drew to a halt on the cramped landing and the arguments about who roomed with who began.
"I would like to room with Mister Gandalf!"
"Nonsense, Ori. The wizard chooses whatever he pleases, you'll share with me."
"And then who will I room with?"
"Bombur."
"He snores!"
"Aye, and so do you but we didn't want to tell you, in case you got your knickers in a twist."
"Can you just decide already, my arms are way tired," I grouched loudly from behind my armful of bags and listened as the rest of them went quiet before breaking out into furious whispers. Try as I might, I could only hear snatches of "improper"s and "wouldn't do"s behind the towers of saddlebacks. Didn't sound like a resolution to me. "Yeah, that didn't mean argue more quietly."
Balin rose his head from their cuddle huddle to tell me to "hush" before they went back to their quiet squabbling. What was this? The Hallway of No Girls Allowed? Sounded like something James would have made up about his house years ago - before we barged in anyway. And that sounded like a good plan right now.
I shoved at the nearest door with my foot, glared when I realised I didn't have the key, and tried to muscle my way into their discussion with the force of my height and the bags in my arms to grab said key from Balin.
"Oi!"
"What d'you think yer doin', lass?!"
"That was my foot!"
"I wasn't kidding," I grunted as I shoved Bofur out the way with a well-aimed swing of a pack, "I'm going to put these bags down and it'll either be in a room or on your heads." There was more shouting as I continued to barge through the group down the narrow corridor to Balin who covered his face with a gloved hand like he wanted to be anywhere but this shouting mess of dwarves and saddlebags.
"Oh for heaven's sake, what on earth is going on up there?" called Gandalf from the bottom of the stairs behind us - to which the dwarves' voices grew in an attempt to tattle on me as I crushed more toes with my heeled boots.
"Just take the forsaken key, lass, and get out of our hair. I've had quite enough of you for one day," Balin said sharply and thrust the keys at me, giving me a rough shove on my way towards a door. I only kept the bags from falling because of the convenient door in my face. I juggled the pile until I could unlock the door and stumble inside, where I threw everything on the closest bed without care.
Finally. My arms were free.
The dwarves were still arguing and complaining outside - and probably hadn't made any progress on their rooming situation because I still had the whole ring of keys. I should give them back - or collapse on the other bed, bedsheets or not. I then remembered that with the state of affairs being what they had been, I'd probably rub off layers of dirt onto the mattress if I didn't have a bath first. And wasn't that an attractive thought?
When I waddled back out of the room, the dwarves had mostly split off into groups down the hallway, although I could see Thorin at the end glaring standoffishly at Bilbo and Balin. I didn't even get a breath out to annoy anyone before Dwalin plucked the keys from my hand and sauntered off down the hallway towards them. Fine. I'd go have my bath without my room key, then.
Downstairs, passing a disgruntled looking Gandalf on the stairs whose poor pointy hat was crushed against the ceiling, I found that the inn was slowly filling with more hobbits for afternoon tea. The hobbit lady was furiously ferrying out scones and tea cakes to those sat round the bar when I approached. She, and the other hobbits there, looked up in surprise.
"Can I help you, miss?" She asked, eyes straying to my hair and nose ring before snapping back to mine.
"Do you have any baths?" I replied - and wondered if I'd worded that correctly. I knew this was more like the renaissance but I really hoped she didn't stick me in a public bath like the Romans had.
"I…" The lady frowned, obviously thinking.
In her silence I felt myself twitching under the stares on my strange appearance. Suddenly, my bright ideas of rebellion against my estranged mother didn't seem too bright now.
"I could draw one up for you in the evening?" She phrased it like a question, obviously unsure but I nodded quickly anyway. I really didn't want a bath so late but… I wasn't about to argue with curious looks pressing into my back - appearing ungrateful and starting an argument would hardly make my face more forgettable.
"Good. Yeah, great. I'll just uh… back to my room," I babbled uselessly and then scrambled back up the stairs towards the dwarves.
Surprisingly, I found the hallway empty except for Gandalf and Thorin who were talking quietly at the end, bereft of the packs and bags and bedrolls that had plagued the rest of us. Gandalf's hat had yet to recover from Hobbit ceilings. It looked like a serious conversation. I didn't care.
"Can I have my room key back now?" I hollered down at them, cupping my hands like it'd help me be more loud.
The immediate response was their glares and various groans and "shut up"s from doorways. Gandalf held out the last key on the ring towards me - which was for an awkwardly long time when I had to walk all the way down the hall to get to it.
"Will you not be staying here, tonight?" Thorin looked up at the wizard, frowning.
"I have business to attend to," Gandalf replied evenly and didn't bother to elaborate. Thorin obviously wasn't supposed to ask for an explanation but he was about to anyway from the way his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
While their stilted conversation might have been entertaining - I had a bed to rub dirt into with my face.
"She's asleep…"
"Don't worry yer head 'bout it - a swift kick'll wake her right up!"
"Excuse me?"
"Go on, works like a charm every time."
"I don't think it does."
"Whozzit…" I drooled into my bed, distantly wondering why it was so short and bereft of covers.
"Would you look at that, works so well you only had to think 'bout kickin' her."
"Funny."
I opened my eyes at the other, vaguely familiar voices to see a weird, plain room that was the size of something out of Alice in Wonderland. There were even short people in the doorway.
Wait.
"Oh. Dwarves…" I grumbled, eyeing Bofur's stupid hat with a venomous glare.
"And a hobbit," he added cheerfully, patting the air above the small woman next to him. I blinked at her twice. Curly hair, red cheeks, arms full of linen sheets.
"Oh! You!" I cried, sitting up and pointing at her. "You're! You're… I never got your name."
"Hilda," she smiled tightly at me and eyed the dwarf next to her.
"Right, the bed stuff." I scrambled off the bed and wiped it down like it would cover the fact that three days worth of dirt and makeup had just been smudged over it - and it wasn't like they had Fairy Liquid on hand to get rid of it.
"And your bath," Hilda added, bustling past me and folding the sheets expertly over the bed. I frowned and glanced out the small window where twilight was settling over the village outside.
"A bath, ey? I suppose you'll be adding that to our tab?" Bofur asked in amusement from the doorway. I froze. Did… bathing cost money?
"Yes?" I squeaked out, not turning to face him.
"It was already on your tab." I heard Hilda mutter under her breath as she straightened up from the bed. She turned a winning smile on me. "Shall we go fix up your bath now?"
I blinked and nodded slowly and like that I'd been hustled past Bofur, down the stairs and into the private quarters at the back of the inn before I'd really had a chance to take in anything.
"I feel like I'm being carted around a lot today," I frowned and glanced around the small room stocked well with barrels and other preserves. There was a tin-looking bath in the middle and a bright fireplace at the back.
"Hmm, because of those dwarves?" Hilda asked, grabbing a pot of water from above the fire and tipping it into the half full bath.
"You don't sound too fond."
"Five minutes at my bar and one of them managed to pour a whole pint of ale all over it." She sounded amused, at least. If we'd all gotten kicked out because of their rowdy behaviour, I'd be dumping all of their clothes in the Water.
"Yeah, that's them alright. Heathens, lot of 'em." I smirked at her and she chuckled back.
"You missed dinner, you know - and afternoon tea. If you wanted to catch up on all of that, I'd add that to their tab, as well," Hilda said with an innocent air, looking up at me as she finished filling the tin bath up.
"Sounds like a plan."
"Your bath's done, dear. I left you some lavender oil and a cloth." She cracked her back as she stood and passed by me, "I'll go stand guard outside - gives me a chance to not do any work for once."
I watched as she closed the tiny door behind her and left me alone in the warm, dim room, dazed by the first real conversation I'd had with anyone - a genuine conversation without any snarkiness. It felt weird.
What felt weirder was undressing and getting into a small metal bath in a room that had obviously been fashioned into a pantry of some sort when out front there were dwarves and hobbits getting raucously drunk. It didn't feel all that private. Either way, it still felt good to sink into warm water and scrub away at layers of dirt and sweat.
I was carefully kneeling in the tub and dunking my face and hair in to scrub away at them when there was a knock at the door and Hilda came back in.
"You Men take an awful long time to bathe," She raised an eyebrow at me even as I scrambled to hide myself.
"What? Men?" I furrowed my brow at her over the rim of the bath.
"Well, you're a bit tall for a dwarf, aren't you?"
"Oh, yeah, totally. I'm Men." Whatever that meant.
"Don't mind me, your dwarf friends need another barrel of ale, apparently." Hilda tutted to herself and strode over to one of the shelves and hefted one onto her shoulder. Forgetting myself, I sat upright in the tub and gaped openly at her.
"No… not friends, just… travelling companions."
"If you're of Man, why is your hair pink?" She asked abruptly.
"I- I'm from the south. The really, really south south." I babbled uselessly, still staring at her while she evenly met my gaze.
"Really? I heard Men from those lands were…" Her eyes darted over to me and she stopped, rosy cheeks turning even redder, "Nevermind, Rufus needs the barrel of ale before he comes in 'ere himself."
Her sudden departure spurred me into action - frantically spilling out of the bath and more reluctantly piecing together my previous outfit. It was only at the last second I remembered to remove my septum and earrings and furiously rub them clean under the water.
Outside, Hilda was leaning against a wall watching a few other hobbits fuss around with the kitchen and ferry what looked to be supper and far too much alcohol out to the front. She losely held a pint of beer and a plate of fish and… potato?
"Your supper awaits." She smiled sweetly and passed them over, though I could see her eyes darting curiously over my face still and, if I read it right, even a little stiffly. "Now, I really should go back on the bar."
"Right…" I frowned as she wandered off and awkwardly made my way out of the kitchen as well. The well-lit inn was filled with customers now, huddled around the bar and tables and fireplace, laughing raucously and drunkenly. Even then, it didn't take me long to spot the rowdy group of dwarves making headway through an alarming amount of flagons of questionable substance.
"Well! If it isn't Wee Miss Priss!" Bofur called me over as I awkwardly waded through chest-height hobbits. The rest of them turned at once and grinned with tipsy lopsidedness, obviously delighting in the fact that I was being such a prude.
"How long did it take you to come up with that name?" I asked, settling myself on their table with a little rough elbowing and stealing of one unfortunate hobbit's stool.
"Thought of it just now, in fact. I'm clever like that, you see." He tapped his pipe against his ale with a conspiratorial smirk.
"Huh, could've fooled me." I snorted. There was a round of louder laughter that continued to be their trend well into the night as I fended off thieving hands from my precious dinner and lonesome pint.
Somehow, despite the genial conversation I had had with Hilda - the only other, seemingly like-minded woman I had seen let alone talked to here - it felt nothing like the relaxation of settling into the dwarves' crude banter. I didn't even mind being the butt of the jokes. It reminded me of home.
I totally lied at the beginning of this chapter. I'm going to edit the balls out of all of these pre-established chapters now I'm back in the swing of things.
I've decided to match the pace of the story to the pace of the Company, so it'll speed up after the Shire. If anyone wants to complain and ask me to change things up specifically, please do.
Thanks!
