Leaving Rivendell they made for the Misty Mountains. The venture through the High Pass was a familiar one for Gandalf and Rusc, so the wizard and his clever red horse led the way up into the vast mountain range. Regardless of how many times one traversed the High Pass to cross the Misty Mountains it was still perilous. They moved slowly and took to negotiating the steep slopes carefully. But the jutting cliff sides and narrow paths were not to be counted alone as things to fear in the High Pass. Gandalf and Bilbo refused to be caught at unawares again by goblins or any other fell creatures inhabiting the mountain. They kept a vigilant watch, but hour after hour and day after day all that was to be seen were high cliff walls and the occasional sparrow.
There were times when Bilbo and Gandalf had to dismount and lead their charge, but for the most part Rusc and Rochaewen were well-served in picking safe paths. In the quieter moments of their trek the two riders would allow themselves a look at the scenery. The mountains were spectacular. They towered as stoic giants and seemed to have existed since the earliest time fathomable. It was unfortunate that Bilbo's first encounter with the Misty Mountains had been so unsavory, for it besmeared his view on his return visit. Now, however, Bilbo found that he quite enjoyed the trip through the mountain pass. The cool air was pleasantly refreshing and the view of the lays about them could not be bested anywhere else.
At length, they found themselves safely on the other side of the mountain. With no incidents to speak of, they made for the house of Beorn. When they arrived, the skin-changer looked upon the familiar faces gladly and upon their horses even more so. As before he was a most gracious host -though seldom seen- and fed the pair amply. Rusc and Rochaewen did not go without either, for they were fed all the rich haylage that they could desire. The companionship of Beorn was enjoyed for a scant two days before the hobbit and wizard carried on. They were pressed for time, albeit without knowledge of why it was that they were to make haste. Bilbo was uncertain as to whether they were making good time or not.
They left Beorn's lodgings as if a fire were at their heels; make haste indeed! Bilbo learned that Rochaewen's name was aptly given, for when she galloped the hobbit felt like he was soaring through the air. Her footfalls were so quiet that the wind at his face was the only sound to be heard by her rider. Her breathing remained even in spite of the blistering speed she maintained. She was taller than Bilbo was accustomed to, but he felt comfortable on her. Rusc had at least two hands height on her, but the challenge was set to him to keep pace with the little bay mare.
Mirkwood was no more welcoming now than it had been when Bilbo first encountered the dreary forest. The same arch of trees ominously stood watch over the woods that were dense, dark, and deep. Although the forest itself was not too keen on visitors, their trek was facilitated somewhat by the amiable relations they had with King Thranduil. This hardly placated the hobbit as he shivered on Rochaewen's back, going by unseen beasts and insects in the night. They passed huge sticky cables slung through the trees by Giant Spiders, and the memory of their great escape from the enormous arachnids sent a shudder through Bilbo.
Trees covered with dark moss and black ooze loomed all around them. The hobbit thought that Mirkwood must have been very beautiful when it was known as Greenwood the Great, and it saddened him that he would not see it so. Gandalf, being nearly old as time itself, did remember Greenwood the Great. It had been a glorious place, where trees did not loom but stood proudly! The trees had their own songs and tales that whispered happily throughout, carried by the wind or by the mouths of the Wood elves. Streams flowed crystal clear and brought refreshing hydration to weary travellers. It was now quite the opposite, and if one were to drink from any of the jet black streams a deep sleep would befall them.
Long they followed the Old Forrest Road until they reached Celduin, the River Running. Bilbo was relieved to be out of the forest, even though this trip provided an easy passage. North they travelled from there until they reached Laketown, and eventually the city of Dale. Night had fallen by the time they reached the city at the foot of the mountain. Gandalf insisted they stay there for the evening. Much to Bilbo's chagrin, he agreed. The sleepy hobbit yawned as he noted that the sun's yellow face had descended many hours ago. From what Bilbo could gather in the dim moonlight, Dale was slowly taking shape once more and looked infinitely better than the last time he had seen it. Bard did well by his people and they worked tirelessly to restore the city to its former height. Great houses and farms were sprung up about them, though Bilbo barely noticed. In the shadow of Erebor all he could think of was Thorin.
Gandalf and Bilbo sought out Bard and soon found him in a quaint home he had built for himself and his growing family. The bowman was glad to see them, but perhaps a bit peeved at the lateness of their calling. He offered his abode to the pair for the night and even had room for their two horses. A small stable had been built at the rear of the home for his own horse and there was plenty of room for Rusc and Rochaewen. Bard was kind to his beasts and this kindness extended to the visiting horses. The stalls were smaller than those found in Beorn's barn, but still very ample and more than adequate for one night's lodging. Once their horses were settled, Bilbo and Gandalf joined Bard in conversation by candlelight.
"What brings you back to the east, so far from your home?" Bard asked Bilbo.
"I was sent for by Balin, son of Fundin," the hobbit replied. "What news have you of Erebor?"
"Very little, I am afraid," answered Bard. "You see, the dwarves are incredibly private. But word gets around. There have been some mutterings that perhaps not all were lost whom we thought had succumbed in battle."
Bilbo's tired heart sprang to life in his chest. "Really?" He asked brightly. "Any word on who or how many?"
Bard shook his head. "That is all that I know. As I said, the dwarves are very private. Perhaps you may tell me more since you were sent by the dwarves."
Bilbo frowned slightly. "Nay, we know less than you, it seems. Gandalf and I are to make for the mountain in the morning, then I suppose we shall see."
"Very good," said Bard. "I will send messengers out before you to Erebor to alert the dwarves of your visit. But come! It is late and it seems our friend the wizard has already made peace with sleep." Bard gestured at Gandalf who was nodding in his chair, already slumbering.
Bard roused Gandalf and showed them to their rooms. Bilbo slept very little and what sleep he got was restless. He was more on edge than ever now that there were rumors of more survivors. That coupled with the letter from Balin practically affirmed the hope that Thorin was still alive. Yet something still nagged in Bilbo's chest. Thoughts of the great dwarf king plagued him all through the night, teasing each one of his emotions. He tossed and turned, stared into the darkness, and finally fell asleep.
Come morning Bilbo and Gandalf wakened and ate a light breakfast. As Bard promised, earlier that morning messengers had been sent to Erebor. The pair thanked Bard heartily and collected Rochaewen and Rusc before setting off up the mountain. It was a rather long hike from Dale to Erebor, but a little after an hour's ride they came upon a stout rider atop a short pony. The closer the rider drew the more familiar he seemed, until Bilbo placed him at last: Balin! The white haired dwarf was astride a fat little pony that trotted gaily down to meet them. Bilbo's heart gave a happy start when he laid eyes upon his former companion and friend.
"Hullo!" Balin greeted when at length they met.
"Greetings, Master Dwarf," Gandalf answered.
"It warms my heart to see you once again, Master Baggins," Balin said, addressing Bilbo.
"You as well, Master Balin," Bilbo responded.
"Come! I had sent for you some moons ago and I am glad you made haste as you did, but the matter still presses." Balin said, a kind smile on his face.
"And what matter is that?" Bilbo asked.
The hobbit hardly heard the answer, for the rush of his pulse dimmed his hearing, but he was certain he heard Balin say this: "King Thorin wishes to see you".
Author's note: only one more chapter to go! I have finished writing it, so all that remains is to edit. I will likely have it posted within a week of this chapter.