Chamber Pots and Healing Herbs

I must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing I knew I was jerked awake by the sounds of birds singing. I groaned and opened my eyes, squinting against the morning light. My back ached from lying on the hard ground. There was a time when it wouldn't have bothered me as much, but I had gotten soft since the war had ended. Still, there would be plenty of opportunities for me to get used to sleeping outdoors again on the road ahead. I rolled to my side and pushed myself into a sitting position, rubbing my eyes in the process.

The dwarves were still asleep and snoring loudly. It's a wonder they don't wake each other up. The wizard was nowhere to be seen.

Collecting my short sword, I silently got to my feet and went hunting for the bathroom, carefully stepping over the unconscious bodies sprawled all over the floor. Looking out of the window, I saw that the sky was still tainted with pink. It must have been very early in the morning. I couldn't have gotten more than five hours sleep.

After trying out a few doors at random I finally found the bathroom, and just as well – I was dying for a pee. Inside I found a chamber pot at my disposal. I had never used one before, and it was an interesting experience to say in the least. When I'd finished, I went to take a look in the mirror, kneeling so that I was at hobbit-height in order to see myself.

I groaned when I caught sight of my reflection for the first time since arriving in Middle-earth. I was an absolute mess. My cheeks were covered with dirt and my dark hair was a tangled mass. I fished out a twig that had probably gotten caught inside during my hike through the forest the day before, and winced as I considered what everyone must have thought of my appearance.

I was pleased to find a basin of water and a bar of soap in the corner of the room and I scrubbed at my hands and face until I was positive that no dirt remained. The next few minutes were devoted to untangling the birds nest on my head, a task which reviled to be futile. After couple more attempts of fruitless tugging, I finally admitted to myself that there was nothing to be done. I fingered a clump of hair thoughtfully, wondering what to do about it. In the long journey ahead we would constantly be on the move and I was pretty sure bathrooms would be scarce - and hair products more so. All in all, long hair would only get in the way.

It's a good thing I never really liked my hair, I thought as I pulled my knife from its sheath, or this would defiantly be a pain in the ass. Being careful not to scalp myself, I slowly sliced through my dark mane again and again, black streaks cascading onto the bathroom floor.

I examined the end result critically, running my fingers through my shortened hair. Not bad. Sure, it was a little scruffy and I couldn't see what it looked like from behind, but at least it wasn't tangled anymore. I praised myself on being practical before anything else.

I sheathed the dagger, bent down to sweep the long strands of hair off the floor and turned to face the chamber pot. What should I do with it? I couldn't exactly leave it there for the next person to find, could I? I hunted about the room to see if there was a way of disposing of my waste, but found none.

Oh, well. I'll just have to empty it outside then.

I exited the bathroom slowly, carrying the chamber pot at arm's length. If only I could levitate it, then at least I'd have my hands free, I thought as I struggled to open the front door.

Finally, I was outside on the front step.

In the time I'd spent cleaning up, the sun had fully risen, bathing the shire in its early morning light. I hadn't been able to see much when I had arrived at nightfall the previous day, but I now noticed that Bilbo had a very nice view indeed. Pleasant green slopes rolled out as far as the eye could see, little doors producing here and there amongst the hills. The air smelled of freshly cut grass and flowers in bloom. If I didn't know any better I would say that I was still in the English countryside. I closed my eyes, marveling at the peaceful landscape.

Someone cleared their throat loudly, startling me out of my retrieve. I spun in the direction of the sound - chamber pot tipping dangerously - and saw that Thorin Oakenshield was sitting by the door, smoking from a long wooden pipe. I had walked straight past him without giving him a second glance. Carrying a pot full of my own pee. Sweet Merlin.

Thorin's dark eyes were traveling over my person, from my newly shortened hair, to the chamber pot in my hands.

"Um, hi," I stammered, blotches of red appearing in my cheeks "I - er, didn't see you there." I fished around desperately for something to say. "Nice day," I finished lamely.

He didn't answer right away, taking a deep puff from his pipe before speaking. "Why are you here?"

"Well," I glanced pointedly at the pot, "I was just going to, you know…" I trailed off, hoping he wouldn't need any farther explanation. He said nothing.

Just I as was about turn away, he spoke again: "I meant, why are you here? Why would a woman - even one as unusual as yourself – be willing to travel so far to free a land that she has never heard of?"

I hesitated. "Gandalf said –"

"I know what the wizard said. Now I want to hear what you have to say." He blew out a puff of smoke. "Why have you taken such a keen interest in our quest?"

Crap, crap, crap. Whatever brief understanding we had shared the previous night had long gone and the king was suspicious again. Find something to say, quickly. "Gandalf is a good friend of mine," I lied smoothly. "We go way back. So when our paths crossed and he told me about what you were going to attempt, I offered to help."

Thorin raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? And how do you two know each other, if I may ask?"

"Oh, that's a long story," I said airily. I lifted the chamber pot. "Now, if you'll excuse me…?"

He seemed less than satisfied with my answer but nodded all the same. I scurried down the little path and pushed open the gate. As soon as I was out of the king's line of vision, I breathed a sigh of relief. That was a close one. Now I have to tell Gandalf that we're old chums. Way to go, Cass. Shaking my head, I tipped the inside of the chamber pot out on the grass, trying to avoid the plants.

Not particularly desperate to face Thorin's questioning gaze again I paused, taking the time to admire Bilbo's front garden. As I examined the multiple flowers in bloom, my attention was caught by a cluster of pretty little white blossoms. I lent closer and picked one, bringing it up at eye level for closer inspection. I recognized the little flower; Mr. Mulpepper cultivated them in the greenhouse behind the apothecary. I remembered selling the dried herbs to potioneers. What was the flower's name again? I racked my brains, trying to remember. Feverfew? Yes, that was it! The Feverfew plant. I glanced up at the hobbit-hole, wondering if Bilbo would mind me taking a few of the flowers. I shrugged. Might as well take this whole medic cover seriously seeing as I'm no use at all in a fight.

By the time I pushed open the little gate and strolled up the path again, I had collected a nice little bunch of the white flowers. Thorin raised his eyebrows as I approached, his gaze zooming in on the blooms.

I spoke before he could make a sarcastic remark. "No, these are not for decoration. I don't do flower arrangements." I pointed to the plants. "This is a feverfew plant. It reduces pains such as headaches and helps lower fever. It's also good in tea as a relaxant." I smiled thinly at the dwarf. "You hired me because I know this kind of thing. So I'd appreciate it if you cut me a little slack and let me do my job. Please," I added after a thought, remembering my manners.

The king slowly got to his feet. Was it just me or was there an approving glint in his eyes as he held open the door for me? "By all means. Make yourself useful, my Lady"

Huh. Well that was easy.

I ducked under the low doorframe and went to place the chamber pot back inside the bathroom. Inside the hobbit-hole the dwarves were slowly stirring. There was the distinct sent of fried sausage in the air and my stomach rumbled loudly. Dwalin and Balin were already up and gathering their belongings as I entered the living room.

Dwalin grunted when he saw me. "I see that you've gotten rid of that tangled mass on your head, lass. Good. It would only have gotten in the way."

"Good morning to you too," I muttered. "When are we leaving?"

"Just as soon as we've all had breakfast," Balin replied. "We won't get many chances to enjoy a nice hot meal every morning once we depart from Mister Baggins' home, so we're making the most of it."

Tell me about it. "Where is Bilbo anyway? Is he going to see us off?"

"I doubt it, lass. After last night, he's probably waiting for us to leave before venturing out of his bedroom. We gave him quite a fright." Balin pointed at the feverfew plant, changing the subject. "What have you got there?"

The old dwarf nodded approvingly when I'd finished explaining once again what the flowers were for. "Good thinking, Miss Cassie. Why don't you go and help Ori prepare breakfast in the kitchen? We can finish up here." He waved me away.

I found Ori up to his neck in bacon and sausages, pilling them up high on plates with eggs as the dwarves trooped in one by one to be served.

He raised his eyebrows at me when I entered the kitchen. "Good morning, Miss," he greeted. "What happened to your hair?"

"I got tired of it," I said, grabbing a frying pan and cracking an egg. It started sizzling as soon as it was on the stove. "It was starting to look like a hay stack. And how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me Miss? I could be married for all you know. I'm not, though," I added hastily when he looked surprised. "Merlin, I'm far too young to be thinking about that."

Ori chose not to comment. Smart guy. We worked in silence and my mind turned back to the flowers I'd collected. How should I dry them? In the apothecary we would tie the plants in a bundle at their stems with some twine and hang them upside down in a dark and airy room for two weeks. After that they would be perfectly dry and ready for sale (some potioneers preferred to buy the whole plant, not just the leaves). But I didn't have the luxury of a dry, ventilated room or two weeks' time on my hands. So what did I have? Well, we'd probably light a fire at night – maybe I could find a way to dry the herbs close to the flames. Sure, they'd turn out a little more brittle than I'd like but it might work.

"Pardon me, Miss? Cassie?" Ori said, pulling me from my thoughts. He handed me a plate full of bacon, sausages and eggs. "Everyone has finished eating. We're the last ones and I think Thorin is getting impatient."

"Well, he'd better not complain about it. He was happy to get breakfast cooked for him wasn't he? Now the cooks need to eat." I sat down at the counter (which barely rose above my knees) and dug into the food. I stifled a groan as I swallowed my first bite of sausage. Heavenly. All too soon I was hunting around the kitchen for a piece of bread to lick the remnants of grease from my plate. Savor good food while you still can, Cass, I thought glumly, you won't be eating anything better than beans and dried meat for the next few months.

"Gandalf!" Ori exclaimed suddenly. I looked up to see that the wizard was standing in the doorway, stooping slightly to avoid hitting his head on the low ceiling. I grinned at the sight of him and the old man hair smiled back.

"Good morning, Ori. Cassie." He bowed his head to each of us in turn. "We are making the last preparations for our departure. I believe we shall be leaving shortly now that we are all fed and watered. We have a long road ahead of us and we would do well to take advantage of an early start."

I jumped to my feet. "Right. Leaving soon. Gotcha."

Half an hour later I stepped outside and was surprised to find several ponies lined up along the hobbit's front gate. More than several, in fact. Fourteen ponies and a horse; one for each of us. That must have been where Gandalf was this morning when we were all still asleep; finding mounts for us to ride. The dwarves were loading heavy looking packs onto the ponies' backs. I caught sight of the wizard talking to Balin near the front of the line and remembered something I needed to tell him.

"Gandalf!" I hailed. The old man looked up and I waved him over. He excused himself from the conversation and followed as I led him away from the group.

"Just a heads up," I said when we were out of earshot. "I was talking to Thorin earlier and I think he's still suspicious about me."

This didn't seem to surprise him. "I would consider him a fool if he wasn't."

I shot him a withering look. "No kidding, gramps. Anyway, he was asking me about how we knew each other, so I told him that we've been friends for a long time. I didn't go into the details and he left it at that. Just thought you should know in case he asked you about it."

Gandalf leant on his stick, looking thoughtful. "Yes, Thorin mentioned your little run-in with him when I returned from Bywater with our mounts. He seemed to think you were being deliberately evasive."

"Really? What did you say?" It occurred to me that we really should have had this conversation yesterday, when the dwarves were full up on beer and too drunk to question the wisdom of welcoming a complete stranger into their mists.

The old man smiled reassuringly. "Only that I was on good terms with your father. I also said that it was on his request that you had ventured from your homeland to discover the world."

I thought about this. My father, huh? "I told Fili and Kili that I was from an island in the north. I mentioned the war. Do you think we could work with that?"

"I don't see why not. I did not specify the exact location of your village to Thorin, so I believe we can work our two separate tales together. Although we shall have to tell him the truth sooner or later. He has a right to know who he is trusting with his life."

The truth. Right. How can I tell him the truth when I'm not even sure of it myself?

My dejection must have shown on my face because Gandalf patted me on the back and said: "Don't look so glum! I am certain that once you have proven your use, Thorin will be more that glad to have brought you along. Now come! We must not keep the company waiting." He started to leave.

"Hey, Gandalf!" I called as he walked away.

"Yes, my dear?"

I fidgeted, unsure how to express what I wanted to say. "You know what Thorin said yesterday…about witches?" The old man nodded. "Do you believe it? That they're evil?"

He gazed at me without saying anything for a long while. When he spoke at last his voice was serious. "Most folk would say that. You must understand that our world has known times of great evil, during which many sorceresses chose to support the wrong side. This has affected their reputation significantly amongst the people of Middle-earth - who have long since learnt to regard witches and their magic with suspicion, even hostility."

I swallowed. "But what do you think?" He had to suspect that there was more to my question than mere curiosity.

The old man studied me carefully with his piercing blue eyes, searching my gaze, and I thought I saw something flash across his face. Compassion? The next second it was gone, replaced by an enigmatic smile. "Me?" he chuckled softly. "I am not most folk, Cassie. You would do well to remember that." And with a swish of his cloak he strode back up the path towards the hobbit-hole, whistling an unfamiliar tune and leaving me completely baffled in his wake.

Despite both Gandalf and Thorin's desire to make an early start it was another twenty minutes before we were finally set to leave. At long last all the bags were packed and slung onto the ponies' backs and we were ready for departure. My short sword hung limply at my side, the small bundle of feverfew flowers safely tucked away in an old leather bag that Balin had given me. Those three items and the clothes on my back were the only possessions I had to my name.

"Say, Gandalf!" Gloin called as he heaved himself upon his mount. "Where did you come by these fine ponies?"

Gandalf had already mounted his horse. "I purchased them for a good price from a farmer in Bywater this morning," he replied.

"You bought fourteen ponies from one farmer?" I asked incredulously.

"Do not be foolish, Miss Morgan. I bought six ponies and a horse. Thorin, Dwalin, Balin, Fili and Kili all came with ponies of their own and three additional mounts to help carry their load." He gestured to a fat little pony at the end of the line. "This one is yours for now."

I approached the pony cautiously as it grazed on a clump of grass, anxiety twisting my gut. Broomsticks I could handle. At Hogwarts I'd been a damn good flier and would have made the Slytherin quidditch team if Malfoy hadn't bought his way in. I used to spend all of my free time soaring above the school grounds on my old Cleansweep 5. In the air I was completely at ease. On a pony, however…

I could feel the dwarves' gazes boring into my back as I neared the animal. Everyone had mounted already and I was the only one still on the ground. I took a deep, steadying breath and stepped forwards. Come on Cass, don't be such a wuss; it's just a pony. At that moment the pony gave a loud snort and I nearly jumped a foot out of my skin in alarm. I glared as the dwarves closest started snickering. Glancing over my shoulder I saw that most of the company was doing their best to conceal smirks. Assholes. Thorin was the only one who did not look amused, but then again I was beginning to think that his face was permanently set in that irritated frown. I had yet to see the king crack a joke or even smile since we had been introduced. He certainly wasn't smiling now.

"Is there a problem Miss Morgan?"

I gritted my teeth. "Nope, no problem at all." I stepped forwards a second time and laid a hand on the animal's back, trying not to show my discomfort. The pony snorted again and swished its tail indifferently. Okay, let's get this over with. Seizing its mane, I hoisted myself clumsily onto the saddle and slid my feet into the stirrups, aware of how ridiculous I must look precariously balanced on the tiny pony's back. I gripped the reigns gingerly and tried not to slide off as Thorin urged his mount forwards. The company followed suit and I felt a brief surge of panic. How do I get it to move? I needn't have worried; the pony seemed quite content to simply tail the others.

I gripped the front of the saddle tightly with both hands, bouncing uncomfortable as the little pony trotted along. It didn't seem to be in any need of directions from my part, which was just as well seeing that I would have been totally at a loss at what to do. I was perfectly happy to let it do its thing while I concentrated on my balance.

Gandalf slowed his horse and fell in step besides me. He eyed me critically. "You are sitting far too stiffly. Try to relax your posture or you will fall off. Have you never ridden on horseback before?"

"No," I replied through gritted teeth. Merlin, my buttocks were already sore and we hadn't been ridding for ten minutes yet. How much more of this would I have to endure before we stopped for the night? Eight hours? Nine? "In my world we don't travel by horse anymore."

"Indeed?" He sounded curious. "How do you travel long distances?"

I suddenly realized that I had hardly told the old man anything about the civilization that I'd left behind. Damn, he's far more patient than I gave him credit for. If our roles had been reversed I would have pressed him for details about his life and world, far too curious to let a little thing like shock or emotional trauma get in the way. "Well," I answered, "our technology is a lot more developed where I'm from. We use different modes of transportation that don't involve animals." Muggles did anyway, but I wasn't going to bring broomsticks and thestral-drawn carriages into to conversation. "They're a hell of a lot more comfortable than this." No sooner had the words left my mouth that the pony gave a huge lurch and I was thrown of its back, landing heavily onto the ground. "Ow!"

Gandalf stopped his horse, looking amused. "Perhaps our means of transportation do not meet your standards Miss Morgan, but rest assured that horseback it by far the fastest way to travel in this land. I apologize in advance for your lack of comfort." He raised an eyebrow. "However, it would be in your best interest not to voice you complaints quite so loudly. The terms of your contract stated quite clearly that you would be left behind at the slightest sign of slowing the company down. The dwarves will not be saddled with an ungrateful young lady who objects at every turn."

I spluttered angrily but had the sense to keep my mouth shut. Luckily, being last in line meant that the old man had been the only one to witness my fall. I quickly scrambled to my feet, brushing the dust from my cloths. Ungrateful young lady? I glared at the pony, who had taken the opportunity to start grazing at the grass, unperturbed by the whole event. The pony returned my gaze lazily. Stupid animal.

I hastily pulled myself back into the saddle before anyone noticed my little mishap. The last thing I needed was to give Thorin another reason to doubt my competence with the outdoors. Gandalf urged his horse forwards and the little pony followed.

"What did you mean when you said that I could ride this pony for now?" I winced, feeling a bruise beginning to blossom. "Why can't I ride it all the time?"

"Once Mister Baggins decides to join us we will be a mound short and we shall have to find a way to make do. I would have bought another pony along, but the famer did not have any more to spare."

There was a short silence as I processed this. "Wait a minute; I thought Bilbo said he didn't want to come? Has he changed his mind?"

"No, but I am confident that he soon will. It's in his blood after all."

I remembered the expression on Bilbo's face when he'd opened his door to us the previous night. "I wouldn't bet on it."

"What's this about a wager?" Bofur called, having heard the last part of our conversation. The dwarf pulled on his reigns, slowing his pony to trot besides mine.

"Gandalf thinks that Bilbo is going to change his mind about not joining us," I explained.

"Truly?" Bofur cast a questioning glance at the old man, who merely smiled knowingly. The dwarf suddenly grinned. "In that case I shall have to take you up on that, Miss Morgan. Who am I to question the judgment of our wizard?" He twisted in his saddle to face me. "How much are you willing to bet that our good friend Mister Baggins will remain tucked away in his hobbit-hole? Three silver pennies?"

I snorted and was about to answer that I didn't have any money to bet away when I stopped myself.

What were the chances of the hobbit actually turning up? We had barged into his home uninvited, raided his pantry and practically forced him into a quest that would almost defiantly have gotten him killed. He's probably left his bedroom by now and is eating breakfast, congratulating himself on having weaseled his way out. I, on the other hand, could use the money. Who knew how long this journey to the Lonely Mountain was going to last?

"Sure, why not? Three pennies it is!"

"Excellent!" Bofur raised his voice for the whole company to here. "Anyone else prepared to wager on the hobbit's sense of adventure? How about you Dwalin?"

Everyone placed their bets. Some thought we'd never hear from Bilbo again, some (like Bofur) said that if Gandalf believed Mister Baggins was on his way then he most certainly was. Hell, even the wizard joined in, gambling away a small sack of coins against Fili (who shared my conviction that the hobbit was relieved to see us gone). Thorin, unsurprisingly, was the only dwarf not to partake in the wagers and friendly banter that followed.