They soon settle down in some really obscure little village, in the very last house - the very last wherever you count from.
She doesn't care. It is infinitely better than living on the road. Bill doesn't sell the pony and doesn't let the van to fall into disrepair, so the danger isn't past, yet.
But days go by. Nothing happens except that she would wake up in the morning thinking of what they could buy, how she should haggle, and what they would make themselves. And then she would realise how far she has gone from the helpless girl she's been.
When they buy a cow, it's a milestone.
But days go by. Billy grows fast - she sews mostly for him - and it seems to be forever autumn. Maybe it's because Elves are leaving Middle-Earth or whatever. A bit tiring, at times. She's got a few grey hairs but she leaves them be, there's nobody here to be vain for.
Bill does leer at a young widow, Bessy, who's well-to-do enough to not remarry, but she doesn't make a fuss about that. She knows this world doesn't really accept her, and she shouldn't take risks. Bill and her have important matters to argue about, like how to raise the kid.

And then bang!, and Billy's fourth birthday is upon them.
She is proud of him and sad for him. He's smart and laughs easily, a little sun with rapsberry juice in his hair and not a care in his head. Billy has lots of friends - other children, most of the adults (even Bill himself), beasts, stones, and flowers. He is the best thing that's ever happened to her.
She puts the cake on the table and wipes her hands on her apron. She did her best - it should be good. Billy squeals in delight and dances - jumps and waves his arms around, and then flies to the door to welcome Dad home.
'Hi, little one,' says Bill. 'I've got a present for you.'
'Give it to me! Please! Please! Please!'
Bill reaches into his pocket and takes out a knife, but holds it up yet. It's all new and small and he had to have been hiding it since the peddlar last came by.
Billy whoops and cries and tries to tug Dad's arm down.
'Wait, wait, I'll tell ye how to work with it!' Bill says laughing and catches a glimpse of her face. 'It's not sharp,' he says in passing.
'I know,' she says, and her legs fold under her.

The next day, she stays in bed.
She's unwell, and Bill takes the cow out himself, and Billy sits by her and brings her water and stuff, but he gets bored and cranky and she makes an effort and they go out into the yard for a picnic.
It's much better in the yard. The sky is clouded, but it's warm outside and lots of flowers are still in bloom. When was the last time she went out like this?
Billy grins at her, and the leaden feeling in her chest lessens.
They eat and joke, and count crumbles. A dog bays nearby (they are getting Billy a dog for his Five Years), and two men appear on the road from the woods.
No, not two Men. One is an Elf.
She doesn't have time to say anything before Billy is running to them - he's absolutely headless when it comes to strange people and things. She levers herself up and limps forward... oh please don't let them do him harm...
They greet Billy as an equal and don't touch him until she's near enough to brain them for it, and that is a very good sign.
'Mom, Mom, let them eat with us!'
She sighs, clutching at her side. The Elf takes a long look at her and says, 'We would like very much to share food with you, Madam.'
And it's silly and dangerous, but the two have been hunting, successfully, and unsheduled meat is something she can't ignore. Billy is growing fast.
They don't look like ruffians. Perhaps the Firstborn can't pull it off. Just two travellers, weary and dirty from walking... or riding, she corrects herself. She's no Sherlock Holmes at this kind of thing, but don't Elves prefer to ride than to walk?
Oh yikes. A real Elf. Fair-haired, grey-eyed, merry and wise and ageless.
'Welcome,' she says curtly, knowing she'll hear from Bill everything she's told herself about why it's a bad idea, and it's enough to make her son happy.

The two are polite and let her watch how they work. They teach Billy how to cook meat so that it can be divided into more dishes - the Man does, and she learns quite a few things herself - and how to offer an arm to a lady - this is the Elf's doing.
And she tries to hide her sickness, and they don't mention it, but things get done before she can ask for them. She doesn't know whether to be flattered or offended, but this just feels so natural, this is simply -
Mercy.
And a wave of resentment rises up in her heart, because she knows this dark-haired, grey-eyed wagrant of a King and his lightfooted, twinkle-eyed Fellow of the Ring.
Why haven't they found her before?
When she lived in her own world, she would have given - well she was stupid - an ar... a finger to meet them. It would have been a miracle!
When she's just fallen into Middle-Earth, it would still have been a miracle. A part of the Pattern, of Destiny.
Now... it's only an implausible thing that happened to happen, and she doesn't really need their help, even though it's nice to have it.
('I am Strider.'
'And I am Leaper.'
So they introduced themselves, and she lets them be. Her boy saves her from having to invent a surname by stating grandly, 'I am Billy and this is Mom.')
She sets down two more plates and doesn't show that she knows them for who they are, because this might be Aragorn's kingdom, but it is her home.

After the dinner proper they have tea. (Strider thought he could smoke, the poor bloke.)
They talk about the last War (Aragorn), and what grasses horses and cows like best (Legolas), and how a single pebble (Billy) thrown in the wrong moment (she) made the awful Mrs. Cramm howl and run around the market-place with eggs in her hair (Billy).
('Eggs in her hair?'
'It's a long story, Mom.')
And because there's 'a living Elf' sitting at his side, Billy asks about magic.
They wait for her to answer first, mischief and mirth dancing in their eyes.
Oh cripes. What do you say to your kid about magic if you know for a fact that Rings of Power weren't just a bleeding plot device?
'Well you know, Billy,' she begins carefully. 'Magic can be very different. It is not simply something that helps you do things.'
He looks at her like he hasn't got an inkling what she means.
'See, if you want to be good at smithing - very-very good, you should really be...'
'A Dwarf,' says the Elf with surprising equanimity. Only Billy isn't surprised because he doesn't know History yet, and she isn't surprised because, duh, it's Legolas.
'And if you want to breathe fire, you should be...'
'A dragon!' Billy guesses at once.
'I saw a man do it,' Aragorn says mildly. 'And he could swallow knives and juggle nine balls at once.'
'Wow!' says the kid, wide-eyed, and shows that he can catch a cookie with his mouth.
'Wow!' says the Prince of Mirkwood, wide-eyed, and shows that he can't.
Men. Even if they are Elves.
'And if you want to be kind, you just have to be...'
Silence. Billy knows the answer, but he's suddenly shy, and she doesn't let her disappointment show.
'Well, you'll figure it out someday,' Aragorn says and ruffles his hair just like Bill did the day before.
And soon, the two go on their way. Just how it has to be.

Bill comes home, tired and in a dark mood, because the cow refused to carry the firewood he had been cutting all day.
She doesn't want to tell him about their guests, but when he sniffs the stew, he forgives her everything.
The sun sets, the stars go out. She is hit by sudden exhaustion. Billy comes to kiss her goodnight.
'Billy?' she asks, holding him close.
'What, Mom?'
'Promise me... that whatever happens... wherever you are... you will be able to wonder.'
'Mom?'
'That you will believe in miracles.'
'Sure!' says Billy. He's four. It's literally the least thing he can do for her. 'I'll do better, Mom, I promise!'
Oh well, he'll understand it someday.