A/N: I didn't think of this thing as more than a one-shot, but flattery is something I just can't ignore, and people kept 'following' it; so here's a continuation. It's going to be a collection of one-shots, updated sporadically (I cannot plot things well, sorry, guys). I know how it will end, the exact words; it isn't a happy story.

(Also, I realize Billy could not really have any of his teeth come out by the night when Bill Ferny would have died, but teething sometimes starts much earlier than that – and the more painful for it.)

Bill doesn't die.

The war ends.

Everybody's happy.

Well, everybody who's known there was a war going on. The people in their street seem rather surprised to learn about it, and not-so-secretly happy that it didn't touch their little downy nest.

Also, there are suddenly jobs available, since the un-blockaded Hobbits sorely need outsiders' help to rebuild their community in preparation for the busy season. (That's what she calls it in her mind. She used to hate winter when she was young and silly.) Still, now that she has a baby to care for, she can't just go and ask for work, that's plainly irresponsible.

That's not what most women here think. A lot of them carry their kids around with ease. She might have tried it, too, but she's still so scared for him – he's so tiny, so needy, and so sickly. It's tough, taking care of him twenty-four seven, and she cries often, but each day she loves him more and more.

Bill sometimes stops to watch them with this weird look in his eyes (he's really not great with facial expressions). Bill is not great with pretty much everything, including baby-sitting, but she's damned if she lets him do anything to their kid that can not be undone. So there.

This is going to be her world; and she plunges into it grim and collected.

Life's a bit dull, is all.

One day, when she makes time to muck out the kitchen, she looks out the window and sees Bill talking to a man she doesn't know. That's not strange; Bill never introduces her to anybody. It's his stance, the hunchline of his shoulders, the lowered head and jerking arms that make her worry.

She's missing something, and it's not the high prices of dairy products (Breelanders aren't all that charitable when Demand kicks Supply in the gut).

Something important.

Could be it is the money. They've been saving the whole time, and he doesn't tell her what he will do with it – he owns the house, and it's not like they will put Billy into a posh college, because (surprise, surprise) there aren't any posh colleges lying around. Maybe he wants to buy a business? But he'd be rubbish at it, he's hardly literate. Maybe he wants to run away? Leave her and the kid and… no. Bill is a fool and a cad, but he's not that bad.

Besides, he owns the house.

Maybe he is older that she thinks (she hasn't actually asked) and already starts going senile? Oh what a laugh; illiterate cad or not, Bill Ferny won't lose clarity of mind until his last breath. He's a real cockroach.

She turns it over in her head the whole day and still draws a blank, but in the end, it's enough to know that trouble is coming. She waits for Bill to harden up and tell her – it doesn't pay to nag at him.

After the dinner, he scowls (it's nice to know she intimidates him) and asks distastefully if she has anything of value.

'Not even a Ring,' she says.

'Good,' he says. 'Gather your things. We're going away.'

'Tomorrow?' she asks stupidly, because it's dark outside and she's been meaning to buy skein and flo –

'Tonight,' he snarls, not loudly. 'Bundle the kid warm, we're goin' to walk to the gate.'

Time's up.

Hobbits have dug up Evidence against him, and the bailiff is out for his blood, which is, thankfully, cheap enough. But not even the bailiff can fool them for long.

Bill doesn't say it in so many words, but she can read his silences as well as his grunts. She doesn't pretend to know why Hobbits, of all people (or is it Peoples?) want to burn him at the stake, and neither does she ask him.

She knows he thinks she can't comprehend it yet, but trouble is, she can, she just can't accept it. They didn't have much…

They will have less…

They are running from justice…

The moon's in the clouds and all sound's muted. Bill carries their bags, and she goes after him holding Billy to herself in a vice-like grip. Billy, oh Billy, you haven't done anything wrong.

Please, Billy, don't wake up, she pleads, stumbling on the dirty cobbles, Mom's here, it'll be alright, sweetheart.

The van is not new, and the pony is not young, but it's the best they could have on a short notice. This must be the first time when Bill doesn't hate a pony on sight, too, 'cause he's just too distracted by getting everything else ready. Somebody walks with them for a while – must be another 'friend' of Bill's, he's always talking to suspicious folks – but when he leaves them alone and it's only the road, the van, and the moon…

The night drags on. She's in the van pretty fast – the baby is her first responsibility – but still she can't settle down for hours, listening and thinking and holding it all in.

Curse that man of hers, couldn't he have lived an honest life!

If only he wasn't so greedy. He simply can't have enough. Well she'll make sure he has enough on his hands from now on – it's time to make the world a better place for women. Yea, she'll have it out with him first thing in the morning.

(After she sees to the kid.)

And curse those Hobbits! Don't they have things to do right now? Like saving their economy by willpower and dedication?

(And burying their dead, and healing their wounded.)

And curse that bailiff! How much does he think he's worth? How much do they have left? It must have been a rip-off, they should have stayed for the court – she'd be their barrister herself!

(And what would she tell to Frodo Baggins? To Meriadoc Brandybuck? To Samwise Gamgee? To Peregrin Took? 'Sorry, I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't change his mind'?)

And curse those guys for whom Bill worked! (Maybe still does.) Couldn't they leave him alone when he became a family man? Was it so hard to find another contact in this hole?

(Only Bill probably begged them to not give the job to someone else.)

And curse her own self, too, for being weak and stupid.

The van bumps on the road, and Billy stirs, and nothing else matters anymore.

It's the third night of their journey. She cannot sleep properly, and the draughts and the lack of privacy and the sheer uncertainty of their future make her ill. Which in turn makes the kid ill, and the man angry.

And Bill isn't pretty when he's angry. Well, he's not pretty period.

And now he stopped the pony, too.

'What is it?' she hisses. She doesn't know where they are going, and it doesn't matter much, at this point.

They need to avoid Rangers coming back to patrol, but for now they would be still occupied hunting down Orcs and such. Departing Elves might take an interest in them, too, if Bill wasn't as low-profile as he liked to pretend. Disturbingly, she has no idea if he ever went out of his way to piss off anyone in Bree (he probably did), but townsfolk are pretty lazy, so that shouldn't be a serious problem.

Unless they all banded together. The Winning Party of Barliman Butterbur, Cirdan the Shipwright and Some Ranger or Another, out to bring one Bill Ferny to a short drop and a sudden stop.

…No, she really must take a hold of herself. What's keeping them so long?

'What are you doing there?' she asks in a low voice, but insistently.

'Hello, sweetie,' says the one who stands beside her very wanted husband. She can't see his face.

'Eh, we're stoppin' here, darlin',' says Bill.

The nerve of him! Can't he see the road is too narrow? What if another van comes – the turn there is too sharp for it to stop in time! The smell – it's like a Troll's hanky! There's no place on the roadside for a decent fire, unless they want to cut some undergrowth, and that would wake the baby! She's been rocking him to sleep for hours – does he want a turn?

'We just need to talk about – '

This is what makes her explode. (Silently.) He never learns! He 'just needs to talk' to all kinds of –colorful characters (here the other one snickers and ducks from under her heavy hand), and look where it got them! No, they will stop further up, and if this man wants anything badly enough, he'll walk.

'Okay,' Bill mumbles. For some reason, he walks beside the pony, too. They speak in low voices; she catches '…good mood today', and decides that she doesn't care for this busybody at all.

Soon, the road widens to her liking, the trees grow rarer, and Billy is again slumbering in her arms. Her golden boy. He would never make such a ruckus about –

'Bill Ferny! What have I told you about smoking?'

'Never do it where the babe can breathe it,' Bill says gloomily, as the other man coughs and sputters. 'It's not me, it's him.'

She explains to the offender the dangers of tobacco to young bodies (dumbing it down for Middle-Agers) until he starts putting in 'yes, ma'am' and 'sorry, ma'am' and even a bit after that. He'll think twice about coming near small children reeking of fumes.

And where did he learn to cook? Look at this hare – food isn't wood, it's not for burning!

'Leave him be,' Bill says at last. 'He's nae got no wife.'

Just then, it's time to feed Billy, and she has to comply. And then she falls asleep, because the fire is warm and the night grows late.

Bill doesn't wake her up, and it's nice to be able to sleep in for once. She takes a moment to stretch and check the kid.

My, hubs looks positively downtrodden.

'Where's that awful man?' she asks, yawning.

'Gone,' Bill says sadly. His eyes are bleary and there are dark circles under them. The lines in his face seem deeper. He's grossly unshaven, too.

But there's no smell of alcohol. There are depths to which he would not sink.

'What was his name again?'

'One-eyed Joe.'

'Ugh.' Whatever sympathy she was feeling towards him quickly evaporates. 'And what did he want of you?'

Bill turns his head to squint at her. It's like he's having trouble thinking straight.

'The fella who met us in the wee hours o' the night… where the road is narrowest?'

'Yes, that one.'

'… an' ye can see just a few yards ahead of ye?'

'Yes.'

'… an' hid 'is face even when we all sat down to eat?'

'Yes.' What's with him? How many men did they meet last night?

'Well I don't know, darlin'.' He blinks heavily. 'Might be he wanted to rob us clean, what with all of 'em lawful people out o' the way.'