Disclaimer: I do not own or claim any connection to the literary or film franchises of either The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings. I am not receiving any monetary or material payment or compensation from publishing this story. I am merely writing it for my own personal pleasure.
Where now the horse and the rider? © bangbangbangitybang
Chapter 2: The world ahead
Our forefathers had civilization inside themselves, the wild outside. We live in the civilization they created, but within us the wilderness still lingers. What they dreamed, we live, and what they lived, we dream.
T.K. Whipple, Study Out the Land
The scent of a dying fire still made her breath hitch, every time.
Éofara awoke with her head pillowed against her steed's curved, warm back. The great, gusting breaths of the broad war stallion gently soothed her stuttering heart beat, the rhythmic inhale and exhale of his side lulling her back into comfort. The stars were beginning to reel back behind the veil of night, dawn's pink and yellow and orange fingers tickling the edges of the sky. Hobbiton was quiet, the hobbits who resided there not due to rise for much longer still. Gazing over the curved line of her horse's stomach, Éofara mentally counted the ponies surrounding her, reassuring herself that the correct amount remained lest she needed to go on a hunt.
Dreams still clear in her mind, the Eorling groaned quietly as she pulled herself upward, wine colored cloak slipping to pool in her lap. Rubbing at her eyes, Éofara yawned hugely into her hand and stretched in a feline fashion, relishing in the sweet pull of her muscles and pops along her spine. Her waist length blonde hair had frayed in the night, and she quickly twisted two small braids of the more forward strands in order to keep her eyes and face clear. Reaching into her saddle bag, the young woman twined two bent horseshoe nails into the braids to pin them in place.
I am absolutely caked in filth. She thought carelessly at the sight of her ruined dress. Glancing around her surroundings, Éofara nudged her horse in the side with the toe of her boot. Sighing heavily, the dappled grey stallion grumbled, one dark eye rolling open to peer at her.
"Get up, you selfish beast." Éofara urged pleasantly, scratching the equine between his flicking ears. Gustily exhaling, Rána smoothly unfolded his powerful legs and heaved to his feet. Her personal mount was a great horse, standing at twenty hands tall he towered over many other equines. His powerful neck and head had the elegant and regal curve that could rival the Mearas, and his chest and sides rippled with muscle.
Leading him to a corner of Bilbo's yard, Éofara huddled behind the large horse's mass and stripped out of her dirty gown. Yanking on a pair of thick black leggings, the woman hastily shrugged into her light grey tunic, the hem falling to her mid-thigh. Her leather jerkin was nearly as long as her tunic, however it was sleeveless and laced up the front, gaping at the center in a long, deep v-shape to allow her legs the ease of riding. Her arm and boot greaves were swiftly tightened and Éofara found herself utterly prepared to start this blasted quest.
The deep snores of the dwarfish company assured her that they would not be departing any time soon. She should not have been so surprised; the amount of ale they consumed would be enough to fell larger creatures. Sighing, the mortal woman sat with her back against a crooked post in the fenceline and drew her knees into her chest. The Shire seems a peaceful, untroubled place. She thought to herself. It was as if the entire area was shielded from the troubles of Middle Earth, a perpetual brightness that she could only recall seeing as a child surrounding its homes and inhabitants. I do not blame Master Baggins in the slightest for not wishing to leave such a haven.
Unconsciously reaching into a hidden pocket in her tunic, Éofara's stained fingers found the softly worn object. It was easily able to fit into the palm of her hand, this thing. It was a deep, glittering black stone – rare in the Mark. However its creator had chanced upon it in the market, this stone that sparkled like captured starlight. With utmost care it had been shaped and carved into the tiny likeness of a horse, a beautiful trinket that had delighted its owner. Her fingers knew its shape well, the curve of the neck and the tiny, carved hooves. It had become her talisman.
Sooner than she expected, Gandalf along with the Company of dwarves emerged from Bag End. Many were rubbing their eyes tiredly and grumbling at the earliness of the hour, the sun had not yet burned away the morning mist. Thorin however, face severe, demanded that they begin. He was anxious, fearing that if he and his kin recognized now was the best time to reclaim the Lonely Mountain, then others would as well.
He did not mention how the ponies were saddled and ready before the dwarves had awoken, that the woman had done so without being asked. Gandalf's own gelding was even prepared to begin their journey, and the wizard had awoken with the rest of them! Pulling herself to her feet, Thorin watched as Éofara tightened the girth of her massive horse and quickly checked to ensure she had all of her belongings.
The dwarf prince glanced along the ground for a stone or log to use as a mounting block. She is tall, but not so much that she could clamber onto that beast-
Éofara trotted by cheerily, astride the dapple grey with not a hair out of place. (Well, her hair was always blowing about, but it was normal. What would you expect with long hair and you're galloping across Middle Earth?) Frowning – he had not even heard a harsh crunch of grass under her foot when she vaulted – Thorin turned away and selected his own mount.
Meanwhile the Eorling watched in wry amusement as the dwarves eyed the ponies as if they were Orcs approaching to devour their hearts. She had heard that Durin's folk were not fond of equines, preferring to walk on their own feet then be mounted. Finally Fili and Kili – by far the two dwarves with the rashest bravery – noticed her staring and steeled their courage. It would not do for their reputation if she saw them afraid! Scrambling into the saddles, once the two brothers shakily slipped their booted feet into the large stirrups the others followed suit.
"Very good form, Master Dwarves." Éofara complimented the brothers. While their form had indeed not been very good, she wished to encourage their initiative. Both beamed and blushed at her praise.
"If you all are quite finished putting on a show for the lady," Gandalf grumbled, already astride his own gelding. "I suggest we begin our journey, for it is a long way."
"Agreed," Thorin was relieved that Gandalf was apparently acting like a respectable wizard and urging the others forward. Both he and Éofara deferred to Thorin, reining in their mounts to allow the dwarf prince to ride point. Well, at least she has some manners. Her bearing was that of a commoner – an insolent one, at that – but perhaps Éofara possessed more etiquette than Thorin originally believed. If that is the case, his frown deepened. It means she possesses them but actively chooses not to employ them when it suits her.
As the Company made their way through the hard packed, twining paths of the Shire toward the forest Gandalf suddenly addressed their leader. "Might I suggest we stop briefly at Bree? We will not encounter another place to purchase supplies for a long time after."
"I agree," Éofara added placidly. "It would also do well to ask about the state of the roads, Master Oakenshield."
"As our guide, I assumed you were well versed on those roads." Thorin replied testily.
Éofara did not even allow herself to blink and responded in a calm, reasonable tone. "I am, but weather and circumstances change quickly with travel. Those who have come from that direction will have the most recent news and therefore allow us to make the best preparations."
Both the wizard and woman, Thorin realized with a sigh, were excellent at persuasion in a non-aggressive way that could not be taught. "Very well,"
Éofara released a tight breath that had lodged in her chest at his acquiescence. While her statements had been truthful, she had another, personal motivation for spending an hour or two in Bree. Her Brother believed he was dead, many told her that nursing her private hopes would only lead to heartache. I have known heartache. She thought with some acrimony. However she needed to see him once more.
The Company had fallen relatively quiet. The dwarves spoke in muted, short tones while she, Gandalf and Thorin remained silent. Éofara's eyes unconsciously scanned their surroundings, focusing on her senses. Suddenly, Rána lifted his head and his ears pricked backward. Turning in her saddle, Éofara glimpsed a bobbing head of curls running toward them.
"Wait!" Bilbo called. "Wait!"
Reining their mounts into a halt the dwarves turned to watch the hobbit, panting slightly, grin and pass the wrinkled contract to Balin. "I signed it!"
Smacking his lips in thought, the white haired dwarf held the contract out at arm's length and squinted at it via pocket-glass. He smiled at Bilbo. "Everything appears to be in order. Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield." The dwarves cheered, spirits uplifted now that their Burglar had come back to them. Balin winked encouragingly at the hobbit, who returned the gesture with a breathless smile. Éofara noticed Thorin was anything but impressed.
"Give him a pony!" The prince ordered, easily urging his own back toward the path.
Bilbo, good mood evaporating at Thorin's words, protested feebly if not firmly. However he was ignored as two of the dwarves easily lifted him off the ground and deposited him on the back of the last pony. Éofara chanced glancing over her shoulder to see Bilbo staring down at the horse's head, terrified, and holding the reins at arm's length as if they were venomous snakes.
Chuckling quietly, Éofara fell back until her large horse matched the smaller stride of Bilbo's pony. "Have you ever ridden before, Master Baggins?"
"Uh, I can't say that I have." Bilbo replied distractedly, flinching as the pony tossed their head. "And please, just call me Bilbo. It seems ridiculous to have all of this 'Master' business on an adventure Lady Éofara."
Lips quirking, she nodded. "Very well, but only if you promise the same. I don't think I've ever been called 'Lady' my entire life until this moment."
Bilbo seemed shocked at that statement, while obviously not royalty Éofara was a polite person and he did not see why others would not refer to her with respect. However he was forced to forget these musings as aforementioned Eorling directed him in soft, cool tones as to the proper form of riding. Soon the hobbit was able to remember to keep his heels down in the stirrups and he no longer feared his pony head butting him.
"You may always ride with me if you would like." Éofara offered kindly. "Rána could easily carry both of us." She affectionately scratched at his withers, causing the horse's ears to swivel at the sound of her voice and his tail to flick at the ministrations and she murmured warm words in a language he did not know. Despite the temptation, Bilbo nicely refused her offer. He could only imagine what the dwarves would have to say about it.
Soon the Company and their mounts wandered into Bree. Éofara left the bullying of the gatekeeper to Gandalf and Thorin. Surely whatever surly look the dwarf prince threw the poor lad's way would be enough to intimidate him. She watched as Gandalf's charm failed and Thorin shouldered the wizard aside, speaking in low, harsh tones to the face visible through the small, portlike hole. The grimy face paled after a long moment and scurried away only for the gate to creak and groan open.
"We meet back in this spot in one hour." Thorin decreed, staring into each of their faces to ensure that they heard. Nodding, the Company began to fraction off as pairs or single dwarves went off on their own. Gandalf had disappeared and Bilbo sat atop his mount for a long, self-conscious moment. He had never left the borders of the Shire before this and he did not want to be left alone lest he get lost and the Company leave him behind. However Gandalf was the only one he felt relatively safe with.
Dismounting, he hastily secured the reins of his pony to a hitching post before scurrying after Éofara, deciding she was the next safest person. He was a handful of strides behind her, and he noticed she seemed intent on some destination. The tall woman froze when she saw a single, mud splattered horse resting in front of one establishment The Prancing Pony. Bilbo frowned at the look of abject emotion on her face before she nearly barreled through the door. Startled, the hobbit followed quietly behind her.
As Gandalf had said, hobbits were notoriously light on their feet. Neither his companion nor the man at the front desk noticed his entrance. Staying pressed against the corner leading into the room, Bilbo watched as Éofara stalked to the bar. She was speaking in hissed tones, a sense of urgency in her voice that he had not heard from her yet. The man's eyes flickered to a spot behind him, and she nodded in thanks. Creeping forward, Bilbo kept his back pressed against the bar, out of sight of its keeper as well as Éofara. Edging closer, Bilbo quieted his breathing and peeked around the corner.
Another man, the only patron for it was still early morning, was slumped over a table, face and head buried in his folded arms. His black traveling cloak and tunic were wrinkled and dirty. He was quietly snoring. Éofara approached the table, staring at the bent form for a long moment before sniffing his forgotten cup and tossing whatever liquid remained inside over the man's head.
He sat up, hair wet and plastered to his face, sputtering. Now this, Bilbo thought, is what I always imagined the wild men from the stories to look like. He was an older man, not elderly but certainly not young. His face was long and thin, it reminded Bilbo of a hawk. However it was tan and weather beaten as if he had been facing a strong wind for most of his life. His brown hair was streaked with grey at the temples and his brown eyes were red rimmed. Peering up into her face, his mouth slackened before grim understanding shuttered his expression.
"I knew you'd be the one." He grumbled, voice still rough with sleep. Uneasily he made to move further down to make room for Éofara at the small table.
"I am not staying." She stilled him, voice weak. "I was merely passing through and decided to see if, on the chance, you were here. Fate it seems has been kind to me today." She spat the last word with bitterness.
Sighing heavily, the man rubbed his face tiredly. "Éofara-"
"Why didn't you come back, Grandfather?" She asked quietly.
Bilbo's mouth hung open, not expecting this strange turn of events. As he looked between the two, he could detect some semblance of relation. Rather than the shape of their faces or eyes, the two shared common mannerisms. It was in the proud tilt of their jaws or the fluidity of their movements. Éofara's dark eye however was the same shade as her grandfather's, Bilbo noticed. However this man did not appear elderly enough to be her grandfather. The hobbit would have to discover more.
"I would have done more harm than good, in the state I'm in." He muttered, calling for the bar keep to bring him something to drink. Looking up into her face, for he was still seated, something softened in his expression. "You look well, I am glad."
"I do not feel it." She replied, voice thick with emotion. "I needed you."
"No, you needed your Brother and his family. My grief would have bogged yours down."
"She was my mother too, not just your daughter. You are not the only one who mourns her!" Éofara whispered accusingly, hands balled into fists at her side. "Do you not think I ached for her presence after I buried them?"
Shaking his head sadly, her grandfather took a long swallow of his drink and stared at her with pity. "Believe me, my darling, if I believed my presence would have eased your grief I would have returned."
Bilbo heard rather than saw Éofara swallow, attempting to compose herself. After a long moment she began to speak, her voice controlled and brittle. "I am on a long journey, I ask a favor of you Grandfather."
"What is it?"
"Holdwulf knows the nature of my journey, but I fear it will be far more perilous than we first imagined. If you hear no word of me after six months, please go home to my Brother."
The air grew tense. "What have you involved yourself in, Éofara?" Gone was the drunkard, now her grandfather's voice was authoritative and hard. Bilbo shivered from his hiding place, wisely deciding he should slip back outside and wait for her. Stepping back out onto the muddy roadway that ran through Bree, the hobbit hummed to himself, leaning back against the building's side to lose himself in contemplation.
He realized, unlike the dwarves, he knew very little about Éofara's motivations. Did she truly join this quest merely on Gandalf's request? And what was the cause of this sadness that seemed to cling to her like a cloak? There was a regret that seemed veiled behind her heterochromic eyes that the hobbit could not label nor discover its source. However, judging from what he had heard, he would hazard a guess that Éofara had lost some people terribly important to her, one of them being her mother.
Bilbo jumped, startled from his musings, when the woman he had been thinking so hard on came crashing through the door of the inn with a stormy expression on her face. Seeing the Halfling, she smoothed her thoughts from her face and smiled softly. "Overwhelmed?"
He stuttered, for a moment terrified that she had discovered his spying. After a second he realized she believed he was merely nervous of his new surroundings. "A little, yes," He admitted truthfully, embarrassed.
"No shame in admitting such. None of us were born perfect travelers. I even imagine our somber leader tripped in a few badger holes in his own time." Éofara muttered wryly. Bilbo could not fathom the image of Thorin Oakenshield in such a predicament.
"Certainly not," Aforementioned dwarf prince suddenly appeared around a corner and came to stand at Bilbo's shoulder. The hobbit blinked hard and shook his head quickly. When had he even come this way?!
"Oh, I'm positive if I got some good wine into Balin he'd have a mortifying story or two to give of your younger days." Éofara replied, undaunted by Thorin's menacing glower. Her grin stretched enough to show a quicksilver flash of teeth. Bilbo slowly inched further away from the dwarf, waiting for the mortal woman to burst into flame from the heat of the glare directed at her.
"I will not-" Thorin began with upright indignation.
"I am merely teasing you, Master Oakenshield." Éofara interrupted smoothly, inclining her head slightly in acquiescence. The movement caused some of her hair to slip over her shoulder so that only Bilbo saw her grin sharpen. "Believe you me; if I intend to insult you it will be easily recognizable."
Thorin only stared at her, torn between crossness and a gruff disarmament at her clever repartee. Settling on displeasure, his blue eyes darkened as he roughly turned from the woman and silent, observing hobbit. "If you intend to do such a thing, believe you me it will end poorly for you."
"Then let us hope that you will do nothing that would deserve my insults!" Éofara replied lightly, mismatched gaze half lidded as her smirk dimpled her cheek. Leaving the dwarf prince in silent incredulity, she placed a guiding hand upon Bilbo's shoulder and steered the hobbit back through the main road of Bree. "Do not linger long, Master Oakenshield, for we depart shortly!"
"I think you overdid it a tad with that last bit." Bilbo muttered after a long moment had passed and he chanced looking over his shoulder. Thorin's potent gaze was burning a hole at the back of Éofara's skull.
"Mm, perhaps," She hummed. "Are you married, Bilbo Baggins?"
"What?!" The hobbit gaped; slack jawed at the sudden, personal question. "W-Why no!"
"Ah well then let me enlighten you to a skill women quite excel at which I just employed on our leader. My mother was fond of saying that men are just in thinking very high of themselves, as long as they possess a wife who is able to show him his own reflection."
Bilbo frowned, adept at riddles but struggling to puzzle out the statement. "I do not understand."
"Our Master Oakenshield is used to answering to no one, and consequently may at times allow his own ego to act in a – how should I say? – unreasonable fashion. I was merely reminding him of himself, his own reflection if you like."
Nodding, Bilbo supposed he comprehended her explanation. He had privately observed that, even only knowing the Company for not even a two full days, Thorin could act quite rashly. Although he believed that this rashness was rooted in emotion rather than arrogance, but the dwarf prince was also quite proud. The hobbit understood a little better than what Éofara was attempting to explain.
"Or, if you would prefer another image, the man is the horse and the woman is the bit of the bridle. She is needed to curb and guide him, in order to allow his full potential to be brought forth."
"So," Bilbo arched an eyebrow and looked up at her as they weaved through the townsfolk. "You will act as Thorin's wife then?"
Éofara jabbed two fingers harshly into the hobbit's shoulder for that. "Why, Bilbo Baggins! What a rapscallion you turned out to be, implying such sordid things!"
Bilbo sputtered. "You began it!"
Chuckling, Éofara lightly cuffed the hobbit good naturedly on the back of the head. "I suppose I did."
The hobbit, though he wanted to ask, sensed that the question burning in his throat was not one to be heard at the moment. If Éofara was so knowledgeable, did that mean she had been married? Was she still? If so, what could her husband think of her gallivanting around Middle Earth with a Company of dwarf men, a wizard, and a hobbit?
Perhaps Gandalf knows, Bilbo thought as he and Éofara rejoined the others where the ponies were hitched. I will have to inquire later.
For now the hobbit had other worries.
Such as how he was going to remount.
AN: As you can see, I have no life by these rapid fire updates. Also I just saw Battle of the Five Armies today and – ack – my heart! I won't spoil it for any of you, but those who have read the book know how it ends.
Anyway I'm planning for this story to closely follow the plot of the movies. I also know I'm teasing you with Éofara's back story, and trust me it's tragic, but I don't want to just vomit it all out at once. I kind of want to pepper it through the story and weave it in to reflect whatever is occurring in the plot. There will also be many allusions and tip-of-the-hats to "Pride and Prejudice" because Thorin is such a classic Mr. Darcy it's not even funny.
If I do not update before then, I hope you all have a merry holiday!
Anywho I will be replying to individual reviews at the end of every author's note from now on, so if you don't feel like reading them nothing of import will be said after this point!
Celebrisilweth: First review of this story! Oh my friend, you have a special place in my writing heart now! Thank you for taking the time to write something, I greatly appreciate it! Haha, well I think it's going to get dark – at least how I plan for things – but depending on your angst-tolerance threshold it may not be as bad as I believe. But I'd rather give everyone fair warning just in case, you know? I hope I will not disappoint you!
gaaralover1989: Yes, a rider from Rohan! I'm an equestrian myself so I always end up incorporating horses into my stories. You know what they say – write what you know! Especially when inserting OCs into a story I try to design one that fulfills a role needed by the story/canon characters that is not otherwise addressed but doesn't overshadow the other characters. In this case I was watching An Unexpected Journey and all I could think was "dwarves don't particularly like ponies, Bilbo is obviously terrified, and Gandalf sure isn't taking care of them. How are these poor creatures surviving" and viola! Stay tuned and I shall try my hardest to fulfill your expectations!
Thank you to all who review. You make my life.
