Hey guys! So, I've noticed that the there was hardly any reviews for the last chapter and I guess it's because it was shitty and stuff but ah, well.

Onwards with the next chapter!

*edited May 2017

Chapter Five: Miss Piggy

I wake up once during the night and it's due to the rumbling snore that's shattering the pregnant silence. I bolt up, my eyes bleary as I push my hair out of my mouth and I notice there's a dribble of drool that escaped the corner of my mouth. My cheek is oddly warm and I press my fingers to it, feeling the impressions of a material on it.

I frown as I squint around the room, barely being able to see due to the fuzziness clinging to the corners of my eyes; I had somehow flipped down onto the seat, lying on my side with my cheek on something that was very warm and slightly uncomfortable. Due to the moon - light, I can make out the shapes of all the Dwarves that are dotted oddly around the floor and some have taken the armchairs. I can see Ori using his journal as a cushion while hugging his quill to his chest.

Aw!

Pulling my sleeve over my hands I wipe away the drool and stretch with my arms over my head. When hearing a satisfying pop, I slump back into the seat, trying to ignore the taste of sleep in my mouth.

That's when I hear very heavy breathing right next to my ear. With a silent yelp, I jump back as I try to make out the person next to me. With a sliver of moon - light, I can make out the dark long hair of -

Well.

Fuck me gentle with a chainsaw.

Kili has his cheek against the back of the couch, mouth slightly parted with his legs stretched out in front of him with his ankles crossed. I realise, with sudden horror, that what I had been lying on was his knee and I had, of course, managed to drooled on him. I slap a hand over my mouth as I try to ignore the embarrassed blush that creeps up on me. Maybe he'd never notice. . . I try to comfort myself as I try to fight a giggle. How did I even managed to flip a total one eighty on the couch, was beyond me. I look out the window, marvelling in the light from the moon that casts over The Shire in an undeniable beauty that I would never see back home.

With a huff I slump further into the seat so my neck rests just below my collar bone, making it awkward to breath. I wonder what time it is. . .

My eyes widen as I shoot up so suddenly I think I got whiplash. I carefully slip off the comfortable couch and onto the floor, feeling for my shoes and slipping them on without bothering to retire the laces before my hands dart to where I'm about one hundred percent positive I left my bag, only my fingers brush against the empty floorboards. I swear it was here. . .

I come into contact with something and I'm about to tug on it when I realise that that is most definitely not my bag. It's a nose. With an inward disgusted groan, I yank my hand back, not even wanting to know who it was. Wiping the hand on my shirt, I use the other to feel around for the soft, worn leather of the bag. When I feel the handle I almost want to start dancing with joy when I realise two things:

1: I can't dance. I'll probably fall and die.

2: someone is lying on it.

With an inward groan I shuffle myself closer as I squint at the bastard who decided it'd be a good idea to use my bag as a pillow.

Of course, it's Fili.

Stupid, good - looking jerk.

I sit back on my legs as I scratch my head, trying to think of how I was going to slip this from underneath his head. Pursing my lips, I move to slip my fingers underneath his mass of blonde hair, ignoring with slight envy how it was so much softer than my own rat's nest, as I grab a handful of the material of my bag. How on earth did he manage to sleep on this?! All the jumbled mess inside of the bag made it one of the last things someone should consider resting their heads on. With a huff, I inch the bag ever so carefully towards me, screwing my face up at every breath he takes. God, it's going to be so awkward if he wakes up. . . or worse, if he wakes everyone else up.

As I pull the bag from underneath him, I smile in triumph before Fili rolls over and onto my hand. The action is so immediate that I let out a shocked gasp as I'm yanked slightly towards the ground.

Are you fucking kidding me? I glare at the Dwarf as I try to wiggle my fingers from underneath him, flopping my arm like a dead fish. I continue this until I manage to pull my hand free. I smile happily before Fili's head makes quite a loud thump against the floor.

I stare wide- eyed at him but the Dwarf doesn't even mumble in his sleep; just twitches his nose.

I let out a breath of relief as I get to my feet, trying to make sure I didn't step on any of part of a Dwarf. I twist and turn, squinting at the floor; I think I stepped on Bombur's beard once but the poor guy was too out of it to even register the pain of his facial hair - braid - thing being tugged beneath my foot. Making my way through the maze of unconscious Dwarves, I finally make my way into the hall, clasping my bag to my chest. My heart is hammering in my chest as I give myself a mental clap on the back; maybe I earned some grace from being sent back in time or what - ever happened.

As I go to take a step, I fall over my opened and loose laces, making me tumble onto the floor painfully.

I think I maybe spoke a bit too soon of being graceful.

As I turn my face with my cheek on the cool floor boards, I notice that none of the Dwarves even moved at the amount of noise I was currently making. I scoff at them before getting to my feet, walking carefully so that I don't trip again. Honestly, and I thought I was bad for being a heavy sleeper. A mischievous thought creeps up on me as multiple ideas for pranks begin to flit through my mind. Oh, the endless possibilities!

When in the kitchen, I can feel the heat that lingers, the embers of the fire clinging to the burnt wood that's shrivelled up and turned black. I step in front of the dying fire and sit down in front of it, my legs crossed.

With a shaky breath, I place the bag in front of me as I try to soothe my shaking hands. The orange hue from the fire stretches its fingers out so that I will be able to see the contents of my bag. This is it; this is what will prove how realistic everything is, this will prove whether I'm dead or dreaming or whatnot. At least, I hope it does. Or maybe it will give me an anchor to my life. I count to ten quietly as I try to stop myself from delving into the bag. Slowly, after some time, I grab the zipper and pull it back.

Slowly, I tip the contents of the bag onto the stone floor, hearing with a wince the sharp taps of the metal bits clang against the stone; I really hope that these guys are able to sleep through all the excessive noise I'm making. I give the under - side of the bag a shake before placing the empty leather beside my knee.

The first thing I pick up is a little flash light with a red laser pointer; it's been at the bottom of my bag for ages and I'm surprised the batteries actually still work. Placing it in my mouth and using my lips to press down in the light button, I continue to flit through the contents, separating them for examination.

There is my nearly out of battery iPod with my headphones tangled around it, a spare pair of striped socks rolled up in one another and a pair of scrunched up, creased underwear - which, you can guess, would be one of the first things to go into my bag. My hand finds a black ball point pen and through the clear plastic casing, I can see that there is quite a lot of ink left in it. With a shrug I toss it in before turning back to my treasure trove. Other objects include a pair tweezers - oh, thank my lucky stars! If there's one thing I love more than food, it's keeping my eyebrows from going all wild and untamed. Never again will I have a uni brow!

Along with that is a Winnie The Pooh brush that flips up and has a little mirror, hiding like a compact make - up kit though it's cracked straight down the middle. I toss it in without bothering to look at my reflection; a battered tooth brush with the bristles bent (quite ew, I must say) goes in next along with the toothpaste, followed by my box of tampons (that also have three unopened pads in it); four scrunched up and used tissues are pushed to one side while a pink razor head with a blue plastic handle is placed in. I actually like having smooth legs and armpits, thank you very much. Besides, who knows? Maybe I will grow a beard; a pack of gum with four strips left - well, three now after placing one in my mouth for a wave of freshness. A still full chap - stick that smells like vanilla is thrown into my bag after placing some on my lips and I stare at the remainder of loose objects; my purse that had only a few coins, a few photos and my I.D; my Irish book (how ironic is it that I didn't do my homework and I no longer need to learn the language?) and, finally, my phone.

I pick up my phone and I press the button but, unfortunately, it stays blank. I bite my lip and, deciding that I love it too much, throw it into the bag. It'd probably get smashed to pieces on the journey but I don't want to leave it here. Turning back, I stare at what is on the ground, trying to decide what to bring and what not to bring. With a scrunched up nose, I decide to place the hardly used tissues back into my bag; I don't want to leave them lying around for Bilbo to clean.

The photos I have are staring up at me, remnants of a past life. They're small things, fuzzy and saturated with smiling faces beaming back at me. The barely palm sized photo of my dear old kitten Mittens is what I see first, the small thing's eyes staring out at me almost accusingly, asking where I am and why am I not home. The next is a photo my father and I, me placed at his hip with pink feather scrunchies in my hair, pulling the soft blonde tresses into pigtails. My eyes are staring back at my own ones now; my face is fat and round, as is nearly every three year old's, and I'm not smiling. My father is laughing at something, probably my all too serious face, and his eyes are on me, shining brightly.

Finally, it's a rather old family photo; I squint at it, staring at my face from three years ago; my face hasn't changed much, although my cheeks aren't as round as before. My hair is just below my shoulders and my fringe is swept back, allowing me to see how rather awkward and uncomfortable I am. My mother sits beside me, brown hair and green eyes, my eyes, and my father, blonde hair and grey eyes, standing between our shoulders, each hand on the other. The entire photo screams stiffness and rigidness, all of us forcing an unnatural smile while wearing the ridiculous clothes. It was my mother's idea to get one, since we never did have a proper family photo. The only reason I decided to keep this one rather than the rest, was because in this one I didn't look as uncomfortable.

I stare at it numbly for a brief moment, my hand reaching out to brush along the curve of my father's forehead as he smiled back at me. Without another thought, I folded the sides of the photos, containing my mother and I, inwards so I was only left with the image of my father before I place it in the bag.

I once again survey the contents; the razor head, the tweezers, socks, underwear, hair brush, tampon box (obviously, duh!), my black pen (just in case I want to ever make a mental note like, I don't know, 'don't die today'), toothbrush, toothpaste, the pack of gum and my chap - stick. I grab the iPod and, with a fretful good - bye, I turn it off for the last time before grabbing the Irish book and my bag. I jump to my feet as I place the both of them on the table; pulling a chair back, I settle myself in with the flash - light clutched in my hand while the other opens up the cover of the Irish book.

The tip of my toes just about grazes the stone as I grab the Irish book; it still smells of the class room. The pages are smudged with pen and coffee rings; reminding me of my old student life.

I sigh sadly as I try to keep myself from thinking of home. Just one day at a time Libby. You will go home. You are going home.

I start to skim over the introduction as I feel my eyes start to become heavy. Fighting a yawn, I skip through halfway towards the middle as I read the Irish words that, even though spending all my school life and my college life learning it, make no sense to me. In one ear and out the other, as my Gran used to say.

I rest my cheek on my palm as my eyes start to droop, the flash - light going out due to the fact my hand had gone limp.

Next thing I know, I'm asleep.

"Miss Libby?"

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT NUGGETS!"

I bolt up, the stiffness in my back and my neck and arms and, basically, everywhere making me wince. Shit, I fell asleep on the table. I've done that enough times while studying back home, I thought I wouldn't have to here. I go to glare at who dared to even wake me from my slumber when I meet the shocked eyes of Ori, Bombur, Oin, Bofur (who, with a pipe in the corner of his mouth, looked to be the only one amused at my 'foul language') and Dori as the they gape at me.

"Oops," I grin sheepishly as I rub the stiff part of my back as I stretched my arms above me, a yawn escape me. "Forgot I'm supposed to be all lady like and all that shiz - nizzle."

"I really doubt that's going to happen, lass," Bofur chortles as he lets out a puff of smoke. I raise my eyebrows at him as I lean back in my chair.

"For your information I can be very lady - like when I want to," I backlash slyly, "it's just I would rather not. There's no fun in that."

The others, having gotten over the initial shock of my swearing, go back to whatever they were doing. Bombur went back to cooking; Oin went back to leaning into his chair as he drank some tea that Dori was continuing to top up.

Ori, on the other hand, curiously eyes the Irish book that was hidden underneath my folded arms. He's seated next to me with his journal held tightly in his hand as he holds the quill.

"Miss Libby," he pipes, "what's that strange book you have?"

I look down to see that he is eyeing the clichéd picture of the Spire in Dublin with a bright blue as the sky. "Oh, it's my Irish book."

"What is a 'Irish'?" the youngest Dwarf asks, enthralled by how realistic the pictures are. Poor guy, there's no way I would be able to explain to him how cameras worked.

"It's a language where I'm from," I explain as I slide the book over to him,; I try to ignore the little twinge of pain in my heart at the fact I've given one of the things from home away. I held the language rather close to my heart, being one of the few things I connected to my cultural identity and yet, here I was, handing it over without a second thought. Oh, gosh, I was over reacting. It wasn't as if I couldn't get it back. "You can read it; it's not like I'm going to need it here."

The youngest Dwarf's eyes instantly light up as he flicks through the pages, using one of his other arms to hold the thick journal that I notice he's always carrying around. I stand up with a yawn, cracking my stiff neck as I twist it side to side. As I go to stretch my back I notice the little pang in my bladder and I instantly cross my legs as I feel the need to tinkle increase.

"S'cuse me," I squeak, as I shift awkwardly, jamming my thumb over my shoulder, "I need to just . . . um . . . yeah. . ."

Keeping my legs crossed and my arms over my chest I hobble away from the group of Dwarves as I try to find the bathroom. I start to bob in and out around the home, trying to ignore the fact the need to piddle was growing. I can do this; I once held my pee in for the whole of The Hunger Games movie. With a bated breath, I open a closed door, hoping to see a loo, but instead I see only jackets and coats. Mumbling under my breath, I close the door quietly.

"What are you doing?"

With a yelp, I turn around with the need to tinkle suddenly disappear. I place a hand over my heart as I slam my back up against the closed door. There, looking very amused at my reaction is Kili; hands behind his back and rocking slightly on the back of his feet, he gives a sense of faux innocence. I take a deep breath as I crouch over with my hands on my knees.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God," I gasp, "what is wrong with you?"

"I only was curious as to what you were doing standing funnily whilst looking into Mr Bilbo's coat closet," Kili answers simply as I continue to glare at him.

"Well gosh, you didn't have to bloody well sneak up on me," I scold with a frown, "I could have collapsed in a pool of my own pee."

Kili raises his eyebrows as I see a faint redness on his cheeks. "I didn't mean to startle you so."

I wave a hand at him as I, once again, cross my legs as I glance around the little home with my eyes squinted. "Yeah, so do you know where the bathroom is? I gotta tinkle, like, super badly."

Instantly, Kili's eyes went to the ceiling as he shook his head. "There are things that I do not wish for you to share with me."

"Don't be such a prude," I snigger slyly, "I just wanna pee. It's not like I said that I wanted to take a sh - "

"I do not want to hear!" Kili splutters as he made a motion with his hand that I can only describe as 'please - shut - the - frick - up'. "Come, I will show you." With a grunt, I hobble awkwardly after him. Gosh, look at me; talking to boys and having them show me to the bathroom to shut me up about my need to pee. My flirting experience just went through the roof.

"So . . ." I begin as he leads me down another hall. Bloody Hell, how big is this place? "How's it hangin'?"

Kili casts me an odd look from the corner of his eyes. "Pardon?"

"Any craic? What's up? Any news? Y'know, tell me what's going on in your life at the moment Kili, old buddy, old pal," I tease sarcastically as I playfully punch his arm slightly.

"You are by far the oddest Dwarf I have ever met," Kili bemuses. I noisily blow a wisp of hair from my mouth as I roll my eyes at his words; for one thing, I actually am not a Dwarf and second thing, I know I'm odd - who isn't odd by other peoples standards? This is like the second time he's told me that. I let out a 'pfft' noise.

"Oh, stop it Kili you big flirt, you're making me blush," I snort as Kili looks down at me (Yes, you heard right; Kili, a Dwarf, looked down at me, a human). I saw a blush become prominent on his cheeks.

"Please do not misunderstand me, Libby," he stutters, "I hope you haven't thought of me in a different way; I didn't mean it as a flirt I was just - "

I let out a chortle, snorting twice in a very unladylike manner; I always hated my laugh. It was weird and funny and it would embarrass me to no end. Plus I was called 'Miss Piggy' for two years of school. Unpleasant memories. Once again, I punch Kili's arm in a playful demeanour as I continue to snigger.

"Oh, God, Kili," I giggle, "I was only messing around. I know you didn't mean it like that. But your face! Oh my Lord, ha! I'm sorry but is flirting with me such a repulsive idea?"

"No!" Kili bites out quickly. "No, it isn't a bad idea. I think you're a very pretty girl, Libby, and I would very much like to flirt - I mean, I wouldn't I was just. . ."

"Oh."

At how he reacts to my question, his answer makes me blush scarlet. I've start to become aware of how awkward it's become; he said, twice in the last 24 hours, that I was pretty. And he said he wanted to flirt. Oh my, I think I'm going to swoon.

"What are you two doing?"

The voice makes me snap to the side where a very amused Fili stood, with his eyebrows raised. I start to blush even more at how intensely he stares at the space, or rather lack of space between Kili and I. Stepping away, I start to come up with an excuse.

"I need to pee." Or, you know, just tell the truth and be forever known as the girl who doesn't understand what TMI stands for.

Fili's bright blue eyes turn to me with his eyebrows still raised. "The door is right there."

Huh, well, who would've thunk it?

I scratch my neck awkwardly as I pass a glance between the two. "Well. . ." I turn to Kili with a blush still fresh on my cheeks, "thanks for, y'know, showing me the bathroom. Um, wish me good luck."

Wish me good luck? Really, Libby?

Giving both of the brothers a nod, I turn on my heel and bolt inside the door to relieve myself.

Holy shit, that was intense.

"Excuse me?"

Looking up from my bag that, I had placed on the table. While in the bathroom, I had secretly borrowed some of Bilbo's toiletries. I added a towel, three bars of soap and a face towel. While I was in there, I had hesitantly ripped up a towel into six pieces of square pieces of cloth to use in favour of toilet paper and in case I ran out of my girly essentials. Hey, it was either that or nothing. This is a judge Libby free zone. Sure, I felt bad but then I remembered that I could die on this quest and I quickly shed myself of my guilt.

Ori stood before me, looking abashed and shy, as he held his hands behind his back. Flipping the flap of my bag close and tightening the button, I swerve in my seat so that I'm on the edge facing Ori.

"Hey, Ori," I grin, "what's up?"

Ori's eyebrows furrow together at the unfamiliar sentence but shook his head, as though getting rid of the questions that came up. Shyly, he fumbled with something behind his back as he just about shoved a thick, leather bound journal in my face. I blink widely as I stare at the designs on the cover; it is quite beautiful.

"T- This is for you," Ori stumbles over his words as he casts his gaze downwards; "in exchange for the book you gave to me earlier."

"Oh, Ori," I say softly as I carefully trace the patterns on the leather. I feel cheerful at the gift as I stare up at the Dwarf. "It's beautiful."

Ori doesn't answer only just continues to stare at his shoes. Getting to my feet, I sling my bag over my shoulder while clutching the journal. Without thinking, I press my lips to Ori's cheek while trying to fight a smile. "Thank you."

I quickly run out of the room leaving Ori, who currently resembles a cherry, alone. Stuffing the journal into my bag, I make my way outside where the rest of the Dwarves were. I stretch my arms over my head as I breathe in the fresh air, closing my eyes as I listen to the birds chirp a song in the trees. I wonder when's the next time I'll be at peace like I am right now.

The Dwarves are saddling up the small ponies and I instantly blanch at the fact I have to sit on them. It's not that I hate them; after many incidents with falling off, my legs cramped and not being able to walk properly, the thought of sitting on one for a whole day was enough to put anyone off. Keeping a straight face I walk over to join the Dwarves with my hands interlinked behind my back.

"So... horses, huh?" I ask casually, as I stand between Fili and Kili as the saddled up their horses. The two brothers turn to look at me.

"Well, yes," Fili answers as he tugs at something underneath the pony's belly; probably to tighten the saddle. "We need to cover as much ground as possible."

"So, I guess walking is out of the question?" I purse my lips as I stare at the 'innocent' enough looking pony that neighed a Kili lets out a bark of laughter as he tightens the leather seat under the beasts' belly.

"I would very much guess so," he sniggers, sending a wink my way. Scoffing, I turn away from him (not wanting him to see the faint redness in my cheeks) as I face the blonde haired brother. Fili shakes his head, all too amused, as he meets my eyes with his bright blue ones.

"You will have to share with one of us," Fili tells me and I feel my shoulders slump at the news. There's no way I would survive on the saddle by myself, so with another person? I think absolutely not.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'd rather not," I scoff as I turn away from the two Dwarves, making my way back to the little home in the ground. As I made my way past Kili's horse's flank, it suddenly flicked its tail and I ended up with a mouthful of horse hair. Making a scene by spitting out the hair I backed away from the horse, landing on my ass.

"I think I'll take your offer up on the ride," I squeak to Fili. He lets out a throaty laugh as I struggle to my feet with a grunt, disgruntled at the fact I had dirtied the pants already. Brushing the dirt off of my ass I sent Kili's pony a glare and I also sent one to the rider that stood near the horse's head with a hand patting it firmly.

"What did I do?" Kili asks frowning at the cold look I was giving him.

"I don't like your horse so therefore I will not be speaking to you," I sniff, turning my head up as I turn to Fili who, somehow without me noticing, sat proudly on the horse, staring down at me with his eyebrows raised. I shuffle on my feet as I link my hands. Back home, I had no problem at all getting on a horse but there is a problem with what this horse is a lot bigger than the ones I used to ride back home.

"Uh, a little help?" I blush as I smile cheekily at Fili. The said Dwarf lets out a low chuckle as he sends a twinkling look over my shoulder. Before I can protest a pair of strong, large hands are on my waist, lifting me up as though I weighed nothing more than a ball of fluff. I let out a girlish squeal as my legs are put either side of the horse with my muscles tense.

"What the bloody Hell?!" I curse as I stare down at the twat who dared to do such an act; standing there with a smirk on his face, Kili sends me a heart melting smile that makes me feel gooey but I scowl at him, quickly doing 'fuck you' in sign language. But he already turns around so the obscene gesture goes unnoticed. I feel Fili shaking silently as he tries to contain his laughter.

I slap his shoulder as hard as I could but I'm pretty sure it was next to nothing to him. In fact, I was the one who ended up with my palm stinging from the impact. "Jerk," I mutter under my breath.

Sighing, I take one last look of The Shire, hoping to imprint the image of the beautiful place in my mind. I have a feeling that this would be the last time I would ever feel this safe.

"What about Bilbo?" I question in a low voice to Fili.

"We do not know," Fili admits almost sheepishly, "we have all taken bets on whether he is going to show up before entering Bree or not at all."

I roll my eyes at this; of course, only they would come up with something like that. As I wiggle about trying to get used to the feel of sitting down on the horse I realise: I have no idea where to put my hands. Without making myself known, I start to move my arms around, briefly grazing my fingers his shoulder, waist and arms but my hands fall limply to my side as I scratch my head.

Without a word, Fili reaches behind, grabs my arms and pulls them around his waist. My face is blazing as, because of his action, I'm pulled a lot closer to him with my chest all but flush against his back.

"Wouldn't want you to fall off now, would we?" Fili sneers playfully. I roll my eyes again as I interlink my fingers on his stomach. "Also, next time we're asleep can you be so kind as to not smack my head so carelessly off of the ground?"

So, he had woken when I accidentally let go of his head!

"Shut up," I mumbled back as I place my blazing cheek against his back.

When I feel the horse moving I realise: there's no going back now.

Thanks for reading!