Morlia woke up with a bleary eye and chapped lips.
The cave was damp. And it smelt of rain. A thundering clap overhead sounded and lightning flashed, cracking the sky into pieces and flickering light across the wet rock outside.
Morlia breathed in... and eventually breathed out, brushing a hand over her growing beard. Her fingers then moved their way down and tenderly pushed against the red, burnt skin on her leg, her mouth twitching slightly as she brushed over the worse of it, nearer the edges of her singed trousers.
Yesterday was decidedly not a good day- not in Morlia's book, nor in any of the rest of the Company's.
She withdrew her hands, and plonked them in her lap. Morlia blinked, and stared at the rest of the sleeping Company for a moment longer, before riffling through her pockets and producing a stout black pipe and a small pouch, tied together with leather drawstrings.
A moment passed and she found herself a nice wet rock to sit on, near the entrance of the cave. After striking a match, she brought a hand up to cover the flame from the wind, and lit the pipe, puffing at the smoke as she did so.
She wasn't surprised that Bofur has fallen asleep, as she gave a glance to him on the other wall.
Two smoke rings drifted upwards, one passing through the other, and they merged into one another as they reached the ceiling of the cave, which dripped and shone from the light that was just peering over the tops of the mountains surrounding them.
The iron tip of Morlia's boots clacked against the steep stone steps, splashing water all over the place.
"Can I borrow a match?"
"Used all mine up," replied Morlia, patting her pockets, and giving a wry smile.
"You sure on that?" asked Bofur, raising an eyebrow.
Morlia held out her hands in surrender and Bofur rolled his eyes, reaching up to refit his hat and dipping the sides of it to rid it of the rainwater that had gathered there.
Still limping down the mountain, Thorin led the Company. And they followed him slowly, but surely, furthering the distance from the top of the Carrock. Unfortunately, by having several damaged members of the Company, their journey was slowed mightily, hence it taking too long and the Company endin up soaked to the bone.
Looking ahead, Morlia could see nothing but rocks and rubble from the mountains that surrounded them. And she was sick of it, all of the Company were sick of it, yet they continued nonetheless. The wind was sharp and quick, and it bit at Morlia's face; scratching at the tops of her ears and gnawing at her nose. Her hair was matted and damp, water kept dripping into her eye and her fingers grew bitterly cold.
Dwalin offered a grim smile to her miserable face. She told him he could bugger off.
Bifur laughed at them.
Ori suggested for the Company to sing a song. Nori suggested that Ori could do everyone a favour and shut up, much to the horror of his brother. However, it was Morlia who kindly took up the offer.
"A thousand leagues from home are we...
A thousand leagues to ride,
A thousand leagues from thee I be,
'til once more by your side.
A thousand leagues I'd ride to thee,
And a thousand leagues again.
A small band of you and I,
Answered the rising out.
In Durin's Hall we took the vow,
The rukhs foe to rout.
A thousand leagues I'd ride to thee,
And a thousand leagues again.
A thousand leagues from home are we...
A thousand leagues to ride,
A thousand leagues from thee I be,
'til once more by your side."
The song, all rough in tone, put a grin on the Company's faces. And with all fairness it was so tongue in cheek that if it didn't crack a smile, something might've been wrong with you.
"You haven't forgotten that that song was made in my honour, have you?" called Thorin, from the front.
"Of course not," Morlia replied, with all seriousness.
Dreary weather often creates dreary people. However, in spite of the rain, the Company's mood lifted impressively and soon everyone was singing their own silly songs and sniggering and giggling and snorting, as if they had suddenly become 90 years younger.
Bombur graced them with his 'Supper Song', which reminded everyone of their rather empty stomachs. Fili and Kili did a joint performance of 'That old milkman'. Bofur sang 'Some bees sting', with some help from Bifur, who used crude hand gestures to make the song more interesting.
And the rain eventually stopped, and the sun peered it's way over the hills and trees, letting light and heat seep into their clothes. And at the bottom of the Carrock, their campfire burned in the comfort of their laughs.
Having a rainy day gives people the chance to create their own happiness without the need for the sun to instruct it. And being honest, sometimes that is what is needed; a heartfelt joy, created from nothing but the connection between those few genuine people with a good sense of humour.
The Company were absolutely outraged when they found the hip flask in Morlia's jacket, with thanks to the thieving hands of Nori. However, they soon found themselves welcoming it. And with the tiniest amount of drink, just one sip each, they decided to sing a song.
"Ho! Ho! Ho! to the bottle I go,
To heal my heart and drown my woe!
Rain may fall and wind may blow,
And many miles be still to go,
But under a tall tree I will lie,
And let the clouds go sailing by!
Ho! Ho! Ho! to the bottle I go,
To heal my heart and drown my woe!"
Gandalf heartily enjoyed it.
And as the sun set and the rabbit turned on it's spit, the Company settled down and they lit their pipes with sticks from the fire. It smelt of smoke, from the wood and their pipes - and of damp grass.
Ori took up the challenge of story telling, and got Bifur to join in on it; cries of outrage sounded, as Fili and Kili threw damp ticks at each other; Thorin chuckled lowly as Dwalin muttered to him.
The fire crackled.
"So, Bilbo," began Morlia, as she watched the two brothers, "are you enjoying dwarrows and their good hospitality?"
Bofur wheezed with laughter; Balin chortled and clapped his hands together at Ori's story.
The fire popped.
"They seem to let me make myself at home," Bilbo murmured, as he took a puff from Morlia's pipe.
Morlia's eye twinkled in the dim light.
After a moment of thought, she spoke again, "You know, my dear old mum always used to say to me: 'Biriz hudukh ma ka bagl! Asta brzudl luknu. Zûrimumul, nî mê zud igjij bâhul dush, mê ganarsi niskh bagl.'"
Bilbo turned his head round to look at her. The borrowed pipe felt worn between his fingers.
"'Pure gold cannot rust!'" she said, in a low voice, jabbing a finger at the air, "'You may have golden dreams, but if you go in the company of wicked people, you have what it means to rust at any time.'"
Bilbo gave a soft laugh, "Very wise, your mother."
Morlia chuckled, "Very wise, Bilbo. That saying has never failed me."
Bilbo handed back Morlia's pipe into her outstretched hands, and adjusted his position on the ground. And two of them sat in a comfortable silence for a while, birds cooing, pipe smoke pummelling upwards, bugs zipping in and out of sight.
"My mother taught me about you, the Dwarves- and the Elves," spoke Bilbo, quietly. He wiggled his toes in the warmth of the fire. "And I am not sure I imagined this."
Morlia gave him a smile and relaxed back on the log, taking a long drag from her pipe. The sky was dark and full of stars; stretched out in a ceiling of ever expanding sea, just out of arms reach.
She released a ring of smoke up into the atmosphere, then mumbled, "There are more things in Mahal and Earth, Bilbo, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." She took a deep breath in, "There's a story behind everything... how a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face."
Bilbo nodded slowly and watched more stars blink into existence above him.
And with that, they sank into silence.
Eventually, Bilbo bid Morlia a goodnight and retired to his place on the floor. The fire died to embers; ash flicking up with the cool wind. The dirt beneath Morlia's fingers grew cold and damp. She blew one last plume of smoke out and dragged her fingers through the straggly bits of her beard, before she drifted into a sleep; dreaming of the eyes that rested above Bilbo's fireplace.