Days passed, some slowly, some quickly, as they climbed into the Misty Mountains, and Bilbo was never so glad for a pony as he was for Mabel on that long, slow climb — not that he had ever had occasion to be happy for a pony before he had left the Shire. But still, the trail grew more difficult as they progressed, and Bilbo's little hobbit legs, which had served him well all his life, proved not quite equal to the task of keeping up with the even more sturdy legs of the dwarves, and so he rode his pony as often as he could, though there were parts of the trail too narrow and rocky to trust in anything but his own two hairy feet.
Days there were when they saw the sun not at all, and on those Bilbo was sore and regretful he had ever left Bag-End, but some days were bright and sunny and full of cheer, and on those days, Bilbo's heart was full of excitement and adventure even as he trudged step after weary step up an ever-steeper path. Thinner they all grew, though they had enough to eat, but hours of walking will trim away the fat on even the jolliest of hobbits, and it must be said that even Bombur found it necessary to tighten his belt, to his great dismay and his brother's amusement, and Bofur even wrote a little song about it that quickly became a favorite among all the Company.
One cloudy afternoon, not so very long after they had finished with their lunch, they came upon a wet and treacherous slope, and try as they might, they could not climb it without slipping and sliding backwards, and in a very short while Oín and Gloín and Nori and Ori were covered in mud — Dori, somehow, had escaped this great calamity unscathed, his intricate braids still perfectly intact — and Thorin called an early halt. "For the sun is peeking through the clouds," he said, "and the mud will dry overnight, if we but wait," and so they settled in for the afternoon, making camp as best they could in the flattest area they could find, and Oín and Gloín and Nori and Ori all went off to find some water for washing, for they were truly covered in mud from head to toe to the tips of their beards.
Kili disappeared immediately to tend to the ponies, but as they had been walking for but half a day, there was no great need of tending, and even after he had brushed them all down quite thoroughly and fed them all, there were still hours before dinner. And so Thorin set him to finding wood for the evening's fire, and though this was not so simple a task for there were very few trees upon the mountain, Bilbo volunteered to help and the two of them spent a pleasant enough hour under increasingly sunny skies, scrounging what they could find. And then there was truly not a single task to which Kili could be set, for the elves had repaired all their packs and clothes and sharpened their weapons, and Bombur would allow no one to help with dinner, not even Thorin, and certainly not Kili.
Oh, if Bilbo had but known this was to be their last pleasant afternoon for quite some time, he would have enjoyed it more thoroughly! But of course he had no way of knowing such a thing, and it is true too that if had known what was to come, he would have not had enjoyed the lazy day as much as he did, for he would have spent it fretting. But the sun crept indolently across the sky while Bombur fussed with the dinner pot and the rest of the dwarves gathered together talking of nothing in particular, and Gandalf napped, his great gray hat perched precariously over his face to shield it from the sun. Bilbo felt that for a brief moment, all was as peaceful as it could be.
But then he saw Kili sitting by himself, staring with great concentration at an odd-looking instrument in his hands, and it seemed the sun grew a little less warm on Bilbo's face, for it was very sad to see the twelve dwarves in a cluster, smiling and laughing and singing, and the thirteenth dwarf excluded as always.
So Bilbo approached Kili and sat down right beside him, and Kili by this point was used enough to it that he did move away at all, but instead just nodded politely. "What is that you have in your hands?" Bilbo asked, genuinely curious, for now that he was close enough to see, the contraption looked very clever indeed, carved wood and engraved metal and even some sort of string. It looked somewhat like a puzzle box, folded up around gleaming silver hinges.
"It is a bow," Kili said. "Gifted to me by the elves, and crafted, they say, by Rergin himself."
Bilbo frowned. "Who is Rergin?"
"A dwarf craftsman of old," Kili said. "I thought he was a legend. They say he crafted the only weapons Durin would accept."
"Then that is quite a gift," Bilbo said in some astonishment. "Though it does not look so very much like a bow to me."
"It folds for travel," Kili said, sounding full of admiration. "It is quite ingeniously designed." But his brow furrowed as he said it, and he made no move to unfold the bow, but rather turned it around and around in his hands.
"Well," Bilbo said, "there were a few spots where we gathered wood that might serve as a practice range, if you are of a mind to test it out. We have some time before dinner."
"Yes," Kili said, but he still made no move to rise, and instead fell back to staring at the bow, as if it possessed some great secret he could divine by simply staring at it.
"I would not mind another lesson myself," Bilbo suggested, though he spoke tentatively, for something was surely wrong, though he knew not what. "The day has become so pleasant, I feel quite confident I could even manage to loose an arrow without injuring myself too badly."
Kili smiled at that, which Bilbo took to be a great victory, for the lad rarely smiled, nor hardly even grinned, and Bilbo had set for himself a mission to one day make him laugh, but such things took time, he knew. "Then let us set up a range, Mr. Baggins," Kili said. He rose to his feet, but he tucked the folded contraption back into his pack, and reached instead for his regular bow.
"Will you not try it, then?" Bilbo asked curiously. "It appears quite wondrously compact. I can scarcely credit that it unfolds to a bow."
"I can assure you, it does," Kili said. "I have seen it with my own eyes, back in Rivendell." But he left it there nonetheless, and began making his way up the side of the mountain, towards a small clearing they had discovered earlier in the day.
"Then why do you leave it behind?" Bilbo asked, scrambling a bit to keep up, for he was not nearly so agile as the young dwarf, and had quite often to resort to using his hands to keep his balance.
Kili turned, frowning when he saw Bilbo flailing on the uneven ground, and hesitantly reaching a hand out, as if he was not sure the contact would be welcome. And perhaps it would not have been, had Bilbo been a stubborn dwarf, but he was a very sensible hobbit and would not turn down a hand offered in friendship. He gripped Kili's hand firmly and held it firmly until he was able to stand steadily on his own two feet.
"It was crafted for Durin," Kili said in a very low voice, though there was no one near to overhear them. "And meant only for his heirs. The elves kept it in safekeeping until an archer of Durin's line arose to claim it."
"And they gifted it to you," Bilbo said. "Well, that's quite a pickle, and no mistake." He allowed himself a moment of irritation at the elves, though he was certainly sympathetic to their distaste for the traditions of khazd khuv. But placing such a weapon in Kili's hands could only lead to heartache for all involved.
"I am of Durin's blood," Kili said uncertainly. "No circumstance of my birth can change that. But I am no heir to anyone."
"Well," Bilbo said, and then he thought for a moment and said, "well" again, for he was not sure at all what else he could say. Kili was silent too, and set to tacking up a target on a large bush, and pacing back a careful distance to draw a line in the dirt at their feet. "What does Thorin say about it?" Bilbo finally asked, for if anyone would understand the complex rules governing Kili's life, it would be his unc — shemor.
"He does not know," Kili said uncomfortably. He would not meet Bilbo's eyes, even as he swung the bow off his back and placed it carefully into Bilbo's hands. "I have not told him. I am afraid he will take it away, and I — " His voice dropped down to a bare whisper. "I do not want him to take it." His eyes flew up to Bilbo's, and they were conflicted and upset. "I know that it's wrong. I am just a khufud. Khazd khuv have no rights to any possessions. Everything belongs to my shemor — to Thorin. But it is a bow — he would have no use for it and the elves — they said it was meant for me."
"Well," Bilbo said again, for lack of anything else. Kili's hands were gently guiding him into the proper form, and though it had been several days, Bilbo began to remember how to hold the bow properly, and how to draw and release the bowstring without doing too much damage to his cheek. "Well," he said presently, "my mother always said that keeping a secret is like holding a live firework in your pocket. Far better to set it free than wait for it to explode while still tucked away in your trousers. Perhaps Thorin will surprise you."
"Perhaps," Kili said, but he looked troubled, and spoke no more of the bow for the remainder of the time they stayed in the little clearing, until Ori's voice came wafting up from below, calling them back for dinner.
And now we deviate just a little farther from canon ...
Thank you as always to everyone who takes the time to review. It really makes my day. I apologize if I don't respond immediately, but I always will respond!
And thanks again to my beta Sapphiremuse, whom I don't thank after every chapter but I really should, because she does a stellar job.
